Hearth's Warming in Blueby TwigaiChaptersKnitting's Poorer CousinBelieveWe Three CrusadersBlue Without YouKnitting's Poorer CousinLate afternoon brought no respite from the cold. Silent through their journey, the three ponies tugged their scarves tighter around their necks and trotted single-file, each of them swiveling their ears and attention intermittently between their goal and the distant caroling from the center of town. The Carousel Boutique was no less chic a locale than ever, but the wreath upon its door was without adornment, and not a single light intended for purposes other than utility burned from within. The round building sat as silent as a forgotten lighthouse on a barren cliff. Apple Bloom came out from her place in line and rapped her hoof on the door, “Sweetie Belle? Rarity? Y’all home?” When no response was forthcoming, Applejack stepped up behind her sister, reached over her, and gave the door a more proper throttling. “Rarity!” She called out, purposefully deepening her pitch to make her voice carry further, “You here?” “—moment!” A muffled, yet unmistakable adult voice called, “One moment, please!” A smattering of clacking hooves was accompanied by the click of the knob and eventual departure of the front door from its frame. Rarity, much of her body hidden under a surprisingly scraggly cyan bathrobe, stood in the doorway with her red cheaters resting pensively on her muzzle. Her hoof still on the door, she regarded the group with a disinfected glare. “I’m sorry but we’re closed right now—oh,” She blinked, batting her curled eyelashes twice, “Applejack? What, is something the matter?” Applejack cleared her throat and indicated the fillies merely by moving her eyeballs up and down several times. Rarity followed the gesture and did her best to keep her smile alive. “I…I thought you were…” Applejack sighed. “I thought so too. But here we are now.” “Please don’t be upset Rarity,” Scootaloo emerged from the line to make her presence known, batting her wings without thought, “We were having a really nice day. We made Applejack bring us here.” “Yeah,” Apple Bloom chimed in, suddenly feeling the need to avert her eyes to the frozen grass, “It wasn’t her fault. We kinda insisted.” Rarity’s elegant brows turned up. “Oh, darlings,” she offered melodiously, “Of course I’m not upset.” She stood aside and waved her foreleg into the room proper, “Come in, come in, I insist! You must be freezing out there, and it simply will not do for you to spend one moment longer bereft of a nice cup of cocoa.” As the troupe marched by, Applejack dipped her head in a gesture of silent apology to their host. Rarity shook her own head dismissively and pranced after them into the expansive showroom area of the boutique. “Well then!” She announced, stamping one hoof pointedly, “I have dark chocolate cocoa, some lovely pumpkin spice mix, and oh—a virgin Prench vanilla eggnog that’s simply divine! Why you must try it with a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg!” “Well gee Rarity,” Applejack sought to keep the mood light, “All those sound like they’d really hit the spot right about now.” She turned to the fillies, who were inspecting with interest a number of mannequins that had been gathered in one corner of the room. “How ‘bout y’all, girls? Which one sounds the best?” The Crusader’s attention was not on the conversation. Both of them were staring up at the heads of the taller mannequins. Apple Bloom spoke first, and as usual her inquiry lacked any sense of tact. “Rarity, what’s all this here?” Rarity shifted her weight uncomfortably several times, but kept her lips turned up in a forced smile. “Why…whatever do you mean, dear? Any good designer relies on the tireless assistance of her runway of canvas models.” “Uh, I think she means these,” Scootaloo clarified. She beat her wings furiously, gaining about two inches from the floor, and utilized the few seconds she could maintain it to point derisively at the head of the closest mannequin. Each of the dozen or so models that were arranged in the corner was wearing a thick earflap beanie winter cap, complete with tassels for securing it under the chin. Each cap was constructed from wool dyed in hues from every color of the spectrum, most garishly bright and cheery. They were colorful, but also bulky and haphazard, lacking any refined sense of style. “A-ah, yes well…” Rarity raised her hoof to smooth out a collection of frizzy locks that had seceded from her mane, and began to trip over her words as if she had four left hooves. “Those are…I-I suppose you could call them…winter…boho-chic?” Applejack stepped far enough to the side of the conversation to get a good look at her friend without making it obvious she was staring. The satin robe Rarity wore looked as though it had once been worthy of her caviar tastes, but even Applejack’s untrained eye for fashion could detect signs of pilling and even a small tear at the neckline. The damage was so insignificant that anypony else might have continued to employ it, but considering the garment’s owner, the flaws were downright shocking. There was a hint of puffy grayness lingering upon Rarity’s porcelain cheeks, just under her eyes. Her mane was tied up in a frazzled bun that even Applejack herself would have no use for beyond keeping hair out of her face while she slept. “Winter…boho-chic…?” Apple Bloom tasted the odd phrase, “Is that a thing?” Scootaloo shrugged, “Don’t look at me. I never heard of it before, but fashion stuff isn’t my thing.” Both fillies looked at Rarity expectantly. The elder unicorn’s grin broadened to the point that Applejack couldn’t tell where Rarity’s gleaming white teeth ended and her snowy cheeks began. “O-of course it’s a ‘thing’, darlings!” Rarity announced with a great sweep of her foreleg. “Why, It’s all the rage in Whinneapolis this season! They’ll be flying off the shelves so fast that I might just have to set up a new branch of Rarity For You in the great white north!” Balancing on her hind legs, she held her hooves aloft and peered through them as if adjusting the lens of a camera, “Form, function, and fashion! It’ll be on the cover of Snowponies Weekly for six weeks running, and it will be simply fabulous!” Applejack couldn’t take it anymore. She stepped directly in front of her frazzled friend and eyed the fillies as patiently as she could. “Girls, didn’t y’all have a reason for coming here today?” The fillies glanced at one another - both had to make a conscious effort to quell their feelings of excitement over finally being reunited with their friend. It had only been a month since they had been left with no convenient reason to stop by, but every day had felt like a small eternity in its own right. Nevertheless, they beat down the twittering in their hearts and approached Rarity solemnly, as though they were street urchins asking for a handout. Applejack stepped politely out of the way. “Rarity,” Scootaloo began, ears pinned down, “…can we please see Sweetie Belle?” A flash of dismay marred Rarity’s countenance, but she recovered so quickly it was difficult to notice. Her new smile came on the heels of a calming breath which made it easier to maintain this time. “B-but of course, my dears!” She exclaimed, her mirth brighter than the candles that blazed in every Ponyville window but her own, “Whyever would you assume otherwise? You’re all such good friends, after all.” She waved at the stairs more times than was necessary, “I believe you know where her room is. Applejack and I will be right here if you need anything!” Again the fillies shared a glance. They said nothing, but the silent looks they traded suggested neither of them were prepared for such a response. Apple Bloom looked away, set upon suddenly by a wash of shame for her earlier assumption that Rarity was the one behind keeping the Cutie Mark Crusaders apart. Scootaloo cleared her throat, reminding her partner of their goal. With a nod and words of appreciation to the mistress of the boutique, both fillies took the stairs at a gallop and were quickly out of sight. Rarity touched her shoulder with the opposite foreleg. She bowed her head, took another deep breath, and was back to her company, addressing Applejack with only a slightly less patronizing smile. “So! You’re fond of eggnog, are you not? While we wait, we can adjourn to the kitchen and talk of our plans for the holiday over a nice warm drink. It’ll be nice to catch up.” Applejack couldn’t look her friend in the eye. Instead, she cast her gaze over the showroom - it was orderly for a workspace that was in active use, but Applejack’s eye was drawn immediately to the empty round rug in the center of the room. Adorned with holiday imagery and expertly woven in all the right colors, it was still as naked as a plucked phoenix. Without turning to look at Rarity, Applejack spoke- “No tree this year?” Rarity’s eyes darted back and forth as though they were levers with which she could crank the wheels of her brain to life. “I…haven’t really had time this year, dear,” She finally offered. “Holiday crunch time and all that. I have three locations in three different cities now, you know.” “It’s only a couple days ‘till Hearth’s Warming,” Applejack replied, now appraising the room solely for its lack of holiday décor. “You usually close for the holidays around now, as I recall.” “…high fashion waits for nopony, Dear.” “Maybe,” Applejack responded simply. She walked slowly over to the mannequins, as if picking her way through a mire of thorny brambles, and touched the closest cap. It was a bright, neon green, and the wool was rough under her hoof. “You gonna tell me what all these caps are really for?” Rarity’s tone was slightly annoyed. “I believe I explained that already. You just wait. In a month, every mare in town will want one just like them.” Applejack examined the cap further, removed her hoof, and turned just enough to catch a glimpse at her haggard friend out of the corner of her eye. “They’re all sized for fillies, Rarity.” “That’s…that’s what I meant!” Rarity haughtily insisted, “In a month, every filly in town will want one just like them!” Applejack felt a spike of indignity. She knew exactly what the matron of the house was doing, but even so, she didn’t care for the song and dance. “Yer a bad liar, Rarity.” “I-I’m not lying!” Rarity practically spat, “H-how could you accuse me of something like that?” Applejack sighed, but finally met Rarity’s gaze. “Rarity, I’m gonna say somethin’ that I feel bad fer saying at all, and so I’m gonna apologize to you before I even say it.” She paused. Gathered her strength. Spoke- “My fashion sense ain’t worth a plugged bit, especially not compared to yours. But I don’t believe for one minute that there’s a such thing as ‘winter boho-chic’, though I barely know what those sorts of words are even s’posed to mean.” She yanked the nearest cap off it’s perch and draped it over her hoof, holding it up. “This here’s a passable cap. It’ll keep the snow off a pony’s head and you ain’t gonna freeze wearin’ it. That’s what somepony like me would be lookin’ for when buying a cap like this. But I’m gonna say it plain – these caps are ugly.” Applejack paused. Let the words sink in. Continued. “You can’t stand there and tell me for one solitary second that you, of all ponies, would choose function over form so much that you would make scraggly hats that are so bright they’ll burn the red right off an apple. You’d sooner close up shop and move to the diamond dog mines forever before tryin’ to pass this off as a fashion line.” “Well, I never!” Rarity let out an audible, snooty huff. “Perhaps you don’t really know me as well as you think you do, Applejack! Don’t you think I would know what’s trending in the fashion world somewhat better than you? Maybe you’d do better to simply stick to apple farming!” Applejack let the jabs chink harmlessly off her metal armor. She remembered what Dash had said about stress. If her own nerves were running this hot, Rarity’s condition must have been incalcuable. She took a breath and waited until Rarity had her back turned and her attention on obsessively adjusting the caps on the mannequin’s heads before speaking again. “These here caps are crocheted, Rarity.” Rarity didn’t turn around, “No they’re no—” “Yes they are,” Applejack cut her off. “I can’t sew any better than I can turn rocks into apples with my tail, but I seen granny do knittin’ and crochetin’ enough times to know which is which.” She swallowed, “And I know fer a fact that you ain’t got no respect for crochet.” Rarity froze. For a long moment, the only sound in the room came from the distant carolers, who had apparently moved down a closer side street. Her back still to her friend, Rarity finally offered a small, soft reply. “…I…I once told her that crochet is knitting’s poorer cousin.” Applejack didn’t have to ask who Rarity was speaking of. “But you still showed her how to do it.” “Of course I did,” Rarity responded somberly. “I was happy that she was trying something related to fashion. Something I felt I could relate to.” She paused, her her voice softened all the more. “Do you…think that makes me a bad sister?” Applejack looked exasperated, “How in tarnation do you figure that showing Sweetie Belle how to do something new makes you a bad big sister?” Rarity finally stepped away from the mannequins. With a heavy gait she walked over to the empty tree skirt-rug and nudged it with the tip of her hoof, looking down at it. “Because I did it as much for me as I did for her. I thought she might…follow in her big sister’s hoofsteps.” “That ain’t no crime, Rarity.” Rarity ignored the comment. “One time, when she burned breakfast, I stuck my muzzle up at it. I suffered through the meal, yes, and I could have just smiled and nodded, but oh no,” She gritted her teeth, “I just had to put a subtle little jab in there. And then, at the Sisterhooves Social that one year, I made so much of a stink over getting my hooves dirty that I nearly lost her. Hooves wash. It would have been fine. But I still had to be that way.” “You were eventually there for her,” Applejack ventured. Rarity’s nudging of the tree-skirt became a kicking that crumpled up one edge of it, destroying its perfect symmetrical roundness on the floor. “And the Applewood Derby. That was supposed to be for the fillies to enjoy, from start to finish. But I ruined it for her.” Applejack grinned sheepishly, “That wasn’t just your fault. I sure had a say in messin’ things up too. But we both worked it out them eventually.” “Eventually,” Rarity spat out the word as if it were a wad of nutritionally valueless straw in her mouth. “Eventually. It’s always eventually! Eventually does nothing but cause unnecessary heartache, and yet all I can do is come back later to make it eventually okay!” “But it did eventually work out,” Applejack replied. “It’s okay, Rarity. Ain’t nopony’s perfect. None of us are ever finished learnin’ how to be.” “That’s not good enough!” Rarity was shouting now, and her gaze lanced a white hot hole directly through the farmpony mare. “I can do better! I can be perfect, and she will always be happy!” “Rarity, calm d—“ “NO!” Sapphire flames crackled in Rarity’s eyes, licking so high that even Applejack winced. “You can’t possibly understand! I’m going to LOSE her, Applejack! Not just to a fight or an argument, or even as a sister – I’m going to lose her forever, and the only thing I can do about it is this!” Rarity caught a cap of hot pink in the glow of her magic. She gritted her teeth, and with a mighty grunt, she put so much pressure into the spell that the very wool itself tore through cleanly, cleaving the hat into two useless scraps. “All I can do is make clothes! It’s all I’m good at! I can’t help her, and I’m so Celestia-be-damned stuck up that apparently it would kill me to not display even the slightest hint of my snooty opinion on everything! It would be better me up there in that room than her!” She repeated her tirade, obliterating two additional caps before Applejack finally found herself close enough to slam her hoof down over one before the raging unicorn could rip it from its roost. “Rarity stop!” Applejack cried, adding a second hoof as she battled against adrenaline-fueled spellcasting. “Yer doin’ the best you can! You ain’t no doctor!!” “I’m not doing anything!” Rarity shouted, gritting her teeth hard, determined to eviscerate the royal purple cap that Applejack was protecting. “All my skills, and the best I can do is give Sweetie Belle a couture funeral and a chic shroud to die in!!” She grunted, blasting steam from her nostrils, “Let go! I don’t deserve to make pretty things and when I’m done here, there won’t be any more!” Applejack sprang into action. She lifted her hooves from the head of the mannequin, but just as quickly gave it a stern kick, knocking it over and throwing off the focus of Rarity’s magic. She then stepped up to her dear friend, and slapped her right across the cheek. “KNOCK IT OFF!” Rarity rolled with the blow, recovering quickly. She came up frozen, wide-eyed with shock. Only her lower lip continued to quiver. “Is this what you want Sweetie Belle to hear!?” Applejack scolded, her accent thickening, “You screamin’ and hollerin’ about how nothin’ you ever went through with her was good enough to show her how much you love her, and then spoutin’ off about her dying?” “B-but…” Rarity’s voice was just above a whisper. Applejack saw dykes in Rarity’s beautiful eyes that were swollen with pressure from a raging river. “…but she’s going to die…” “No she ain’t!” Applejack insisted, “At least, you don’t know that! Talkin’ like that don’t do nopony any good. It’s like stoppin’ before you even start.” Rarity cradled the reddening welt on her cheek. The pure misery in her wilted ears and the trickle of moisture from the fissures under her eyes was infectious, and Applejack found that the longer she stared at her, the more she felt a pool of Rarity’s tears inflating behind her eyes too. Rather than show them off, Applejack roughly grabbed the fashionable unicorn in a tight bear hug, pressing Rarity’s muzzle into her harvest-orange shoulder. Rarity’s dam cracked. She bawled like a baby, wetting Applejack’s shoulder with her tears while muffling her miserable cries by burying her face into the farmpony’s shoulder. Applejack tightened her grip, holding on for dear life as she stroked Rarity’s back, seeking to soothe her while sinking both of them to the floor. “Shhh, shhh…” Applejack cooed, “…it’s alright…I’m right here and I ain’t goin’ nowhere…” Rarity jerked several times, one such motion enough to knock Applejack’s hat off before she finally settled down and allowed her sobs to steal her strength. Her muscles relaxed. Her voice was tangled with sharp inhalations of breath. “I-I…I’m sorry…” She sniffed, “…I didn’t mean…I just haven’t been sleeping well and…and there’s so much stress, and I just don’t know what to do…” Applejack’s stroking hoof became a gentle pet at the back of Rarity’s neck. “Forget it,” She assured, “It’s rotten apples under the trough. But Rarity, yer shufflin’ around here like my old granny, and you got your hair up tighter’n hers.” Rarity sat up and tried in vain to look at the top of her own head. “I…I do?” “And those reading glasses,” Applejack went on. “You only use those for detail sewing work, but you got ‘em on all the time now, like your eyes just got two years older for each day gone by this month.” Rarity went cross-eyed staring at the red cheaters on her muzzle. She ensorcelled them and slipped them off her face to get a better look. “I…I didn’t even realize…” “And that,” Applejack pointed plainly at one of the tears in Rarity’s robe. When the unicorn saw it, she yelped, sprang to her hooves, and tossed the garment to the floor, stomping on it like a spider. “Eek! Wh-what in the name of all that is fashionable am I doing!?” Applejack smiled ruefully. “I been wonderin’ that myself.” Despite her snorts and the flow of her tears, Rarity managed a dry, rattling laugh. Her magic caught the tie that was holding her hair in a bun and set it free, great curly waves of violet breaking over her neck. “…dear me, I must look like I’ve been shopping at a five and ten all my life…” Applejack built upon the foundation of levity by tacking on a careful application of her own laughter. “I reckon I look like that every day. Feelin’ better?” Rarity sat on her haunches. She reached up to her face and dried one tear with the back of her hoof, but another quickly fell to take it’s place. “T-to be honest dear, I…don’t believe I am,” She bowed her head slightly, “I can’t seem to turn it off lately…every time I try to put my attention on something, all I can think about is…is what’s happening to my poor little…” She trailed off. Rising to her hooves, she trotted over to the window and gazed out of it, her ears swiveling in reception of the merry sounds outside. “There should be candles in these windows, shouldn’t there?” She said rhetorically as she ran her hoof over the sill. Applejack took a few steps towards the window as well, her eye tracing the late-day path of the sun. “I can’t answer that. What do you think?” “I always put candles in the windows,” Rarity glanced down, and saw a spattering of tears that broke up the light layer of untended dust on the sill. She wiped them away, shaking her head. “Look at me. I’m still crying. I…there should be a tree, and garland, and some lovely decorations…she would want that…” Applejack fanned the fires of the calming dialogue, “When was the last time you saw her?” “Oh, every day,” Rarity shrugged her shoulders uselessly, “I see her every day. Somepony has to take her meals to her. She…doesn’t come downstairs anymore. Not unless we’re going to the hospital for her treatments.” Applejack retrieved her Stetson from the floor. “That can’t be good for her. Did you try to—” She let the question die, realizing she already knew the answer. Rarity replied anyway. “Yes, many times. She never wants to go anywhere else while we’re out, and when we get home, she just goes right back to her room. She’s in too much pain to go traipsing around. That’s what she says, at any rate.” Applejack paused. Instead of placing her hat on her head, she held it against her chest with her foreleg. Somehow, it didn’t feel right to wear it. “She really told you she didn’t want to see her best friends?” Rarity nodded. “And before you ask dear, I’m not upset that you brought them here. If anything I’m…hoping maybe with them standing right outside her door, she might change her mind…” Applejack watched faint pinpricks of light gather in the heavens. “Rarity…why don’t the two of you come on over to the farm for Hearth’ s Warming this year? We got presents, games, a big old beautiful tree, and the best seven-layer bean dip you ever tasted. You know Apple Bloom would be happy, and you’d be more than welcome.” She tried to find a more tactful way to continue, failed, and defaulted to blunt honesty. “It’s gotta beat just holing up here by yourself, with Sweetie Belle locked up in her room. You won’t even have to lift a hoof. You got my word on that.” Rarity’s smile was distant. “Thank you darling, but Fluttershy already invited us to…whatever she does this time of year with all of her woodland friends. Twilight did too, and she went as far as to offer us rooms in the palace indefinitely. Spike comes over all the time, and though he’s being a dear, I have to turn him away occasionally just to have some time to myself.” She chuckled again, the sound like apple seeds rattling in a tin can, and glanced at Applejack’s reflection in the window. Somehow, the image was easier to talk to than the real thing. “A party…well, maybe, but…I’m not really feeling the spirit very much this year, and I don’t believe Sweetie Belle is either. And as much as I appreciate Twilight’s offer, it…feels too much like hospitalization. I don’t want Sweetie Belle to be away from the things that comfort her.” She paused, “I’m…not certain I feel that differently about your offer. Thank you very much darling, but…you understand.” Applejack nodded her assent. She was about to change the subject, but a heavy pattering of hooves turned her attention to the stairwell. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were plodding down the steps single file, their ears pinned down so flat to their scalps and their heads down so far that they looked to be in mourning. Neither of them paid any attention to the fallen mannequin, the ruined caps, or their own cold-weather accessories, which they had casually discarded before bounding up the stairs on their mission. “So, uh…” Applejack ventured a small smile, “How’d it go?” Scootaloo stopped and offered Applejack a stare so empty, it answered her question without words. Apple Bloom completely bypassed her sister, not stopping her march until she found herself in front of Rarity. Even the bow in the filly’s mane seemed to have seen fit to droop. “I owe you an apology,” Apple Bloom said soberly. “Before we got here, my sister told me that Sweetie Belle said she didn’t wanna see us. She said that you told her that, and so I…didn’t believe her. Which means I didn’t believe you, neither. I thought you were keepin’ us away from Sweetie Belle on purpose. But you were right,” She looked up at Rarity, and finally over at Applejack, “Y’all were both right. Sweetie Bell, she…she don’t wanna see us.” Scootaloo opened her mouth, but closed it again. There was simply nothing to say. All eyes watched Apple Bloom as she bent to pick up her scarf in her mouth, and took to securing it back around her neck. She was so bereft of her usual animation that she sucked all the life out of the room, bringing a chill to every spine despite the warm comfort of the boutique. “This was my idea, and I’m real sorry I wasted everypony’s time,” Apple Bloom muttered, heading for the door. “I’ll knock it off now.” “It was our idea,” Scootaloo amended. She watched her friend meander to the door, as though Apple Bloom were preparing to walk right off the edge of the earth. The young pegasus wracked her brain for just the right thing to say. She turned to Rarity. “Rarity? Sweetie Belle told us she’s not a Cutie Mark Crusader anymore. What does she mean?” Rarity closed her eyes, willing her emotions back down into the hidden abyss of her psyche, and replied without answering. “She didn’t open the door for you at all, did she girls.” The statement was not a question. Once again, the fillies glanced at one another in confusion. Both turned their attention to their friend’s elder sister. “Nope,” Apple Bloom replied, “But…how’d you know that?” This time the adults exchanged glances. Applejack took in a breath, but Rarity held up a hoof to silence her, knowing what she was about to say. “It’s alright Applejack,” Rarity announced. “It’s time they knew.” “Knew what?” The girls asked in unison. Rarity ignored the question, summoned up her inner courage again, and began walking. “May I suggest we adjourn to the kitchen,” She instructed, her hooves already pointed in that direction. “I’m certain you could all do with a nice hot cup of cocoa.” Rarity didn’t wait for an answer. BelieveAs the afternoon aged, the shortened days of winter bled from Celestia’s realm into her sister’s. The evening was clear save for a confused peppering of clouds in the sky; uncertain of their purpose, they dusted various portions of Ponyville in intermittent sheets of puffy, light snowflakes. Three ponies sat around a breakfast table in the Carousel Boutique’s modest kitchen. A fourth, the matron of the establishment herself, approached the others alongside a levitated platter of etched silver, with four ceramic mugs balanced perfectly atop it. She slid a beverage before each pony, saving the last for herself as she set the serving tray aside. For a time, the group did nothing but watch a snow squall and allow their chosen drinks to fill them with a lasting warmth. Applejack finally broke the silence. “There ain’t nothin’ quite like being all toasty warm while watchin’ the snow fall.” “Eeeyup,” Scootaloo added in a high-pitched tone that did not suit her word choice. “Except there ain’t no holiday in it anymore,” Apple Bloom moped, her look the most distant of them all. Rarity stood behind her friend and the fillies, watching them as they considered the weather. She took a long drag from her cup, allowing the pleasant heat to permeate her like a poultice. It calmed and centered her, rebuilding the sandbags that had momentarily collapsed and allowed the torrent of her turbulent emotions through. Her cheek still stung a bit, but she was glad for any sensation that could help her cope with reality. “As I was saying, girls,” She spoke, drawing all attention to her, “It’s about time you had the whole story.” The Crusaders were all ears. Rarity continued. “Sweetie Belle is feeling self-conscious right now. I suppose I cannot entirely speak for her on her true feelings, but doubtless part of the reason she does not wish to be seen is that she feels…how shall a put this,” She paused, “…unattractive.” “Huh?” Apple Bloom snorted, drawing several drops of hot cocoa into her muzzle that elicited a choking sneeze. “But she got muddier than our whole pigpen at the Sisterhooves Social a couple months ago!” “Yeah,” Scootaloo added, “And when we were doing that play about the Buckton Tea Party, she had more tar and feathers on her than any of us. And she had a great time!” Rarity wracked her brain, “It’s…more than that, darlings. You see, she’s in a considerable amount of pain lately because the treatment to make her feel better also makes her sick…” Apple Bloom’s expression showed a complete lack of understanding. “Well that’s just plumb silly. Why would she be getting better and feeling even more sick at the same time?” Scootaloo rested her chin on the table and put her attention on her mug, pushing it idly back and forth between her hooves. “When’s Sweetie Belle going to get better?” “She…that is…” Rarity felt her words close around her like gnarled branches from the deepest depths of the Everfree. “She, well…she’s sick, but getting better makes her feel worse, and yet getting better is something that…may or may not…” Applejack slammed her mug down on the table with more force than intended. Garnering attention, she rolled with the faux-pas and blurted out the truth- “Sweetie Belle has cancer, girls.” Incomprehension passed back and forth between the foals like a low-hanging storm cloud. “Y’all don’t know what that is, do ya,” Applejack presumed. Scootaloo scratched her chin, “I remember in school once, Twist said something about her great-grandmare having that. Isn’t it just something old nags get?” Applejack took a deep breath, preparing to craft another response, but her eye caught the image of Rarity, who was standing next to the table twiddling her hooves. Applejack smiled encouragingly in her friend’s direction. “I don’t think it’s my place to go into detail, girls. Why don’tcha let Rarity explain it.” Rarity closed her eyes. Deep inside, she visualized the thorny roots that had taken hold of her heart as they grew up into her mind, coiling around her brain and confusing her thoughts. Visibly gritting her teeth, she let out a grunt and hefted an imaginary machete, coming down on each vine with a well-wetted knife of frustration. “Cancer is a disease, girls,” Rarity stated. “Anypony can get it, at any age.” She swirled her mug with her magic, staring down at the churning froth within as she considered how best to put the concept to the minds of foals. “I am far from a medical professional so forgive me for my laypony explanation, but cancer is when…well, it’s a growth. Inside your body. That’s not supposed to be there.” Scootaloo’s chin-scratching became head-scratching. Apple Bloom squinted. “Somethin’s growin’ in her body?” The earth filly asked. “Like what?” Shock suddenly overwhelmed Scootaloo’s features. “Don’t foals grow inside your body?” “Sweetie Belle’s pregnant!?” Apple Bloom blurted. “B-but wha…how??” Applejack yanked her hat off, tossed it on empty chair, and rested her forehead in one hoof, sighing deeply. “Naw, naw, girls, that ain’t it…” Rarity sought to regain control of the conversation. “What I mean is, Sweetie Belle has something growing inside her. It’s not a foal. It’s not a creature of any kind. It’s a malignant collection of cells that are growing improperly, that are damaging otherwise healthy parts of her from the inside.” Another round of dumbfounded stares cost Applejack a sliver of her patience. “Look, all the details ain’t important. What is important is that Sweetie Belle, she’s…real sick.” Rarity kept up her explanation anyway, “The therapy she’s going through right now is a certain school of magic called chemomancy. It’s designed to target the cells inside her, stunt their growth, and…hopefully destroy them. The trouble is,” She paused, collecting herself again, “It’s a…very aggressive technique, and the magic doesn’t always understand which cells it’s supposed to attack.” “If something bad is growing inside Sweetie Belle,” Scootaloo reasoned, “Can’t Princess Twilight or somepony else just…transport it out of her?” Rarity fought back the emotion and continued to wade through the difficult topic. She drained her mug so quickly that she turned back to the counter for more. “Sometimes they can, dear. But there are certain cancers that are so well embedded in certain parts of the body that removing them simply through teleportation runs a very high risk of…removing the affected body part, as well. Or some portion of it that’s too significant to do without.” Scootaloo hesitated. Apple Bloom didn’t. “What part of her body has it?” Rarity doubled the touch of nutmeg in her second cup of warm eggnog. She paused at the counter, her gaze tracing the wavy patterns of the decorative backsplash. “…it’s in her brain, dear.” When nopony spoke, Rarity continued. Her voice became husky, and as she spoke, Applejack came to understand why her friend refused to turn around. “Brain cancer is…far more common in unicorn ponies,” She touched her head, “because of our horns and our magic. The exact causes are difficult to determine, but one of the theories suggests that since magic is a naturally unpredictable and chaotic thing, overuse of it by a unicorn can potentially result in unexpected effects centering on the area around our heads.” Her tail drooped, “…some say that too much exposure by one unicorn’s magic to another could be as much of a factor…that the clashing magic auras could cause mutations…” Applejack pushed away from the table so quickly that she rent the stillness with a jarring skid-noise from the legs of her chair. She trotted over to Rarity and had a hoof on her withers before either of the Crusaders could so much as absorb the new information. “Rarity, this ain’t your fault,” Applejack insisted. Rarity quickly dispelled a wayward tear with a wipe of her hoof. “I…I want to believe that, but…what…what if…what if I did this to her…just by using magic around her…? If she was somehow more susceptible to the condition—“ “Now yer just speculatin’ ahead of the evidence,” Applejack replied quickly. “I read the paperwork from the hospital too, and ain’t nopony knows if being ‘more susceptible’ means anythin’, or if it’s just another theory. If it were that simple, then every single unicorn in Equestria would end up like this just from bein’ around their own kin long enough. Celestia only knows what would happen to ponies like Twilight, who cast complicated magic spells nearly every day, or to foals in magic kindergarten classes.” Rarity’s voice became ghostly thin, “…b-but what if I did do this to her…? What if this is all my fault…?” Applejack began to stroke her friend’s downy-soft coat with a hoof. “It ain’t your fault,” She repeated. “You can’t think that way. It won’t do you no good, and it won’t do Sweetie Belle no good neither.” “I know, but…but…” Rarity’s lip quivered. Applejack gently slipped her forelegs around her friend and took her in a firm embrace, angling Rarity’s chin onto her shoulder. Rarity’s blubbering matched the shudders Applejack felt under her stroking hoof. “Shh…it’s alright Sugarcube,” Applejack cooed, adding in the nickname she reserved for foals, “It’s gonna be alright…you gotta believe that…” Both Cutie Mark Crusaders politely averted their attention to the remainder of their beverages. Each one busied themselves with a long sip, but the silence, coupled with light sobbing from the room’s only unicorn, quickly became too much for the room’s only Pegasus. “Sweetie Belle’s gonna get better…isn’t she?” “A’course she is,” Applejack insisted. Rarity, still facing away from the Crusaders and lost in her friend’s embrace, shook her head and lightly batted Applejack’s chest with a hoof. “…don’t lie to them dear. Please,” Rarity said weakly, “…we’ve already hidden too much from Sweetie Belle’s best friends.” Applejack berated herself mentally for the deliberately misleading statement. She sighed, and replied again. “…we dunno, girls.” Applejack felt a wetness on her cheeks. She was not a pony given easily to open shows of sorrow, but when her eyes settled on Apple Bloom, she considered what things might be like if she were the afflicted filly. The image sliced through Applejack’s rough exterior like a hot knife through butter, creating a thin wound where visible despair began to leak out. Apple Bloom glanced at her young friend, only to find the Pegasus frozen in shock. Apple Bloom nearly joined her, but a sliver of Apple family tenacity drove her on. “Is that why she told us she ain’t a Cutie Mark Crusader no more?” Applejack wasn’t certain how to reply. Sensing the hesitation, Rarity sniffed sharply and pulled away from her friend’s embrace, patting her gently on the shoulder and favoring her with an appreciative look before turning to the fillies. Her mascara was running, but she didn’t seem the least big ashamed of it. “As I’ve said darlings, I cannot speak for her. However, I doubt her illness alone is the reason she would say such a thing.” She blinked hard several times, beating the feelings back down, and elaborated- “The type of chemomancy Sweetie Belle is receiving is designed to attack the cancerous cells, but one major flaw of it is that it cannot easily differentiate between those cells and the cells that make up the follicles of her hair. I suspect the reason she does not want to see the both of you is because she’s feeling self-conscious about her appearance. “How bad is it…?” Apple Bloom galloped hard against the gravity of the situation and continued her questioning. “Most of her tail is gone,” Rarity explained, “and her mane is…very, very thin. Furthermore, she has bare patches throughout her body where sections of her coat have fallen out.” The Crusaders shared another look. Each of their eyes then slipped down to a view of the other’s cutie mark. Rarity didn’t wait for them to ask the inevitable question. “The magic of your cutie mark is more than skin deep, darlings, but the physical mark is not. If you were to shave your flank completely bare, the mark would still grow back, and what it represents would still be a part of who you are, but visually it would nonetheless be…gone.” The Crusader’s questions ceased. There was no room for misinterpretation of the latest information. The two young ponies simply locked eyes and stared blankly at one another, communicating their feelings wordlessly while each young mind tried to interpret the monumental implications. Their thoughts became so turbulent that even weeping became beyond their ability to process mentally. “I-I’m sorry,” Rarity suddenly pulled away and trotted for the door, “I…I just can’t…talk about this anymore. All of you are welcome to stay as long as you like. Please make yourselves at home. I…I…” She struggled for words. As she vanished from the room, she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind and bowed hastily. “H-Happy Hearth’s Warming.” The three remaining ponies sat in a stunned silence, broken up only by the ticking of a clock and the incessant sounds of caroling from down another street. Applejack returned to the table and retrieved her hat, tugging her scarf tighter around her neck with her teeth. “I guess we better get goin’,” She commented. “I’m sorry girls. But y’all were right. It wasn’t right to try to protect you both from this. And for what it’s worth Apple Bloom,” She turned to her sister, weary bags of puffy red forming under her eyes, “I’d have made the same scene you did out on the street earlier, if I had been in your boots. I’m sorry.” Apple Bloom blinked hard. “Sweetie Belle’s gonna die, ain’t she.” Applejack shook her head, “I’d be lyin’ if I said I could answer that fer sure. But a fifty percent chance of not makin’ it ain’t no more or less a guarantee than a fifty percent chance of makin’ it. Listen—” Somehow, she managed the tiniest hint of a reassuring smile, “The both of you…you gotta believe. If y’all dwell on the worst and let it consume you, then the worst is just what’ll happen.” She thought about it, and then offered a curious quip, “Apple Bloom, did I ever tell you the story of your great uncle Orange Pekoe?” Apple Bloom was thrown off by the odd inquiry. She cradled her mug between her hooves and shook her head, “Don’t think so. Why?” Reunited again with her Stetson, Applejack laid a hoof on the table and watched the light snowfall. “Orange Pekoe was a delivery pony for a grocer in the big city. He used to pull a big covered cart – so big that you could get inside it and walk around. That cart had a special enchantment on it to keep it cold inside, so he could transport perishable foods over longer distances.” She took a breath and continued, “One day, he accidentally got locked inside his own cart. And he froze to death.” Apple Bloom shivered at the grisly story, but offered no comment. She wasn’t sure what value the tale had in the current situation, but her big sister didn’t leave her in the dark for long. “Thing is – it was only about forty-five degrees inside his cart that day. Just enough to keep the vegetables he was carryin’ from one city to the next from spoiling.” “Huh?” Scootaloo raised a brow. “How is that possible? That’s not cold enough to freeze you.” “No it ain’t,” Applejack agreed. “But you see, Orange Pekoe was about the stubbornest pony who was ever kin of ours, and in the Apple family that’s sayin’ something. You’d think that’d mean nothing would ever kill him, but when he convinced himself of somethin’, there just wasn’t ever any way to talk him out of it. And the one thing he used to tell his family that he was afraid of was someday getting locked in his cart and freezing to death.” She finally turned to look at the fillies, her stare grave, “He believed he was gonna die. So he died. The moral is, if you believe strong enough in somethin’ – and I mean so strong you ain’t got even the slightest notion of doubt – then you can usually find a way to make it happen.” She paused. Let the words sink in. Finally, she offered the fillies a smile of appreciation. “I gotta say, I’m real proud of the both of you. Y’all are takin’ this better than anypony could have expected, and if there were any two ponies out there that could believe in something strong enough to change the world, I think it would be you two.” Scootaloo battled through a sharp sniffle, “B-but it doesn’t matter what we believe…Sweetie Belle has to believe in it.” Apple Bloom’s hoof came down on the table so hard she nearly spilled her drink. Emulating her sister, she shoved her way out of the chair to the tune of a loud scraping noise and stood tall on her hooves. “Then there’s only one thing we can do,” She announced. “We gotta get in there to see her.” “What good will that really do, though?” Scootaloo asked, despair gnawing at her thoughts and conjuring up the pessimistic statement. “If she doesn’t wanna see us—“ “Then we gotta make her wanna see us,” Apple Bloom insisted. “We gotta get her to open that door, no matter what it takes. Think about it. If it were you sittin’ in there, all alone and hurting, what would you be thinkin’ about?” Scootaloo shrugged, “I’d…probably be wondering when I’m gonna die.” “Exactly!” Apple Bloom blurted. “And if she keeps thinkin’ that way, then that’s exactly what’s gonna happen. We gotta make her believe that she’s gonna be okay, and I’ll tell ya plain,” Apple Bloom’s confidence set the room on fire, “We’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders! We all go home or nopony goes home, and I ain’t goin’ home until Sweetie Belle knows she’s gonna be okay!” “Woah there,” Applejack cautioned, “It’s good you wanna help, but you two can’t just buck down her door. You gotta respect her space.” “Then how do we get in?” Scootaloo asked. Apple Bloom hooked her foreleg around one of Scootaloo’s and yanked the pegasus abruptly to her hooves. “I know exactly how we’re getting in there. But we gotta do it together. You in?” Scootaloo wiped away a tear and broke into a squirmy smile. “W-wild windigoes and a hungry dragon couldn’t stop me.” “Cutie Mark Crusaders forever!!” Apple Bloom cried, holding out her foreleg, “Hoof bump!” Scootaloo returned the declaration and the gesture, and the two of them were out of the room before Applejack could repeat her warning against doing anything rash. The elder Apple sister sat alone in the kitchen, staring down at her empty mug. She watched as a single tear plopped down into it. She wiped her cheek, but paused as she touched her own lips, turning to a mirror to confirm what she was feeling. A smile sat firmly on her lips. “The last pony in Equestria who’d ever give up at something is you, little sister,” Applejack whispered. “I’d put your spirit before anypony I know. Including myself.” She rose, sat her cup down, and went to find Rarity. We Three CrusadersApplejack’s quest ended the moment she stepped out of the kitchen into the Carousel Boutique’s ample showroom. Despite her relationship with the owner and her familiarity with large barns, Applejack had historically never felt comfortable in the large round chamber that accounted for most of the first floor. The luxurious sangria curtains that cordoned off the fitting areas were as jarring to her as the mauve diamond pattern on the ceiling, and the number of mirrors made her feel as though she was being constantly watched. Regardless of her trepidations, however, Applejack’s appreciation for Rarity’s unique sense of style made her come to see the boutique as a cozy, lavish suite in a five star hotel over time. Rarity had moved eight of the mannequins to the small round stage, half-surrounded by mirrors, that her clients used to model her creations. The crowded assemblage of faux-ponies had no eyes to appreciate Rarity’s work, but the dedicated fashionista toiled away, using the increased perspective from the mirrors to arrange and rearrange the crudely crocheted caps on all of their canvas heads. “No, not like that…” Rarity muttered, adjusting one cap slightly off center while swapping two others with her magic, “…perhaps a little to the left…oh yes that’s quite fetching…” Applejack took note of the fact that there was no trace of the recently destroyed caps. The bare heads of the victim mannequins had already been covered with new caps, in shades so similar to one another that they strayed outside Applejack’s spectrum of color recognition. Rarity was humming a spirited tune as if nothing were amiss. Applejack approached the stage and stopped on the floor beneath it, silently appreciating the mannequins in the mirror before daring to speak. “…you alright?” “You know I’m not alright, dear,” Rarity said bluntly, her eyes never coming off her work. “But this is how I cope. Tell me you wouldn’t be out bucking apple trees right now if you were in my position.” Applejack couldn’t argue the point. Thrown off by the ease with which Rarity admitted her distress, she spoke awkwardly, searching for anything useful to say. “I’m sorry for what I said about all these caps before. I guess they’re not really so—” Rarity held up a foreleg. “No, no. Every single one of them, from a high fashion standpoint, is positively hideous. Everything you said about them is correct, and I won’t have you compromising your honesty now just to save my feelings. Because I know that’s what you’re doing.” Applejack scratched her forehead, adjusted her hat, and began staring uncomfortably around the room. Rarity remained silent for a full minute, shuffling around the caps obsessively, until she finally gave voice to her thoughts- “I suppose I don’t need to explain these hats, do I.” “…I suppose ya don’t.” Applejack put her attention on her friend again. Standing on the slightly elevated platform, Rarity was on her hind legs, with her forelegs planted on the flank of one of the mannequins. Her red cheaters were back on her muzzle, and she had a length of measuring tape loosely wrapped around her neck. Applejack couldn’t quite fathom what use either accessory was at that moment beyond mood-induction, but it was obvious that Rarity’s activity was little more than busy work. Applejack stepped up onto the platform and laid a hoof gently on Rarity’s shoulder from behind. “You’re a great sister,” Applejack stated. “Prolly the most devoted one I ever met. You can say anything you want about feelin’ like you ain’t done enough for Sweetie Belle, but I bet you’ve spent hours and hours this month standing here makin’ ugly hats in colors and styles only a filly would like, using a technique you don’t even like, because you want your sister to feel beautiful again.” Rarity stiffened. Applejack backpeddled, instantly regretting the one extra word. “I…I didn’t mean ‘again’…I mean she’s beautiful now, just…” Rarity spun a levitated orange cap around slowly in the air, examining it. “It’s alright. This is just…all I can do for her. Make her feel comfortable, and try to make her feel pretty.” Applejack made a face, “There’s a lot more to beauty than how your mane or tail looks. Even I know that.” “That may be so,” Rarity nodded, “But it doesn’t make us covet our appearances any less. Some of us are not so narcissistic as others, but that begs the question-” Finally she turned her head, catching Applejack’s face only out of the corner of her eye, “Would it not be easier for you if you simply shaved your mane off? Your head would be a lot cooler while you’re working, and you wouldn’t have all that extra hair getting in your way, no?” Applejack glanced down at her long, lush blonde locks and the single tie that held them. “W-well I…” “But you wouldn’t do that, would you,” Rarity filled in the blanks. “Because one some level, you want to feel pretty. You want to feel like a mare, or at the very least, you want a subtle way to convey your uniqueness to your world of strong-backed stallions that labor in fields. Applejack blushed slightly and looked away. “…somethin’ like that.” Rarity adjusted her glasses and sat the cap back on its perch, turning fully to her friend. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be harsh. You’re absolutely right – beauty is far more than skin deep. I simply meant that even knowing that, some ponies still want to…feel pretty.” She stepped off the platform and moved into the center of the room, her gait and lack of immediacy suggesting she had no destination in mind. Left on the platform and surrounded by mirrors, Applejack favored her attractive mane and tail with a tiny appreciative glance, and again looked for something to say. “Did you see the girls go through here a minute ago?” “Hm?” Rarity replied, “Oh yes, they asked me for some supplies I don’t keep down here. I believe they were headed for my room upstairs.” “Supplies?” Applejack repeated, “What’d they say they were up to? You sure you’re okay with them rooting around in your stuff?” “…if they can her to come out of her room I’d be okay with anything…” Rarity muttered. “Hm? Say again?” “O-oh, nothing dear,” Rarity adopted a more spirited look, “But you’re only half right in what you think you know about the origin of all these caps.” She hesitated, “Would you…like to know the rest?” Applejack nodded dumbly, “Sure?” Rarity found her way over to her fainting couch. Shunning its normal purpose, she sat down comfortably upon it and took a moment to situate herself. “Do you recall the opening of Rarity for You in Manehattan?” Applejack welcomed a chuckle, “Sure do. Hard to forget somethin’ like that. Real humdinger of a party when it all came together though.” “It was quite the soiree, wasn’t it?” Rarity agreed. Her smile vanished as quickly as it came. “A week after that, I took another short trip to Manehattan. It was only for the day, and my goal was merely to make certain everything was well stocked and operating correctly in the short term. It was…” she glanced upwards at nothing, “…around seven in the morning on a Tuesday. Not a particularly productive time for fashion sales, but since I was there anyway, I opened the shop. Only one customer came in - an old Neighponese stallion. He was knobbier in the knees than bent further over than ever I’ve seen an old stallion before, and he had a heavy knit scarf around his neck.” “A scarf?” Applejack interrupted, “Wasn’t that still summertime?” “It was. He claimed, however, that his ‘old bones are always chilly these days’. He was a delightfully friendly fellow with a sharp wit, but it turned out my only customer of the morning wasn’t actually a customer of mine at all - he was looking for a repair service for the scarf, and had wandered into the wrong shop. He said it was something his late wife had knitted for him when they were still dating, which he claimed was ‘long before you were born, young filly’.” Applejack smiled warmly. “That’s sweet. I bet it was pretty rustic lookin’.” “That doesn’t begin to describe it,” Rarity returned the smile. “He was indeed in the wrong place, but he was such a friendly sort - how could I turn him away?” “Generous to a fault,” Applejack chided. “I examined the scarf and knew I could fix it, so I set to the repairs right then and there. He spoke something of its history as I worked - told me tales about it’s travels to nearly every city in Equestria, and some beyond. He and his wife met sixty-seven years ago, though she had been dead for nearly eight.” Applejack whistled, “Whew. If any of us could say we found love fer that long. That’s a fine thing.” Rarity’s smile disappeared again. “He was an…amazing stallion, in my opinion. I never once saw him without a smile on his face, even though three months prior to the day I spoke to him he had lost his daughter also. She succumbed to, of all things…cancer. The same cancer Sweetie Belle has.” Applejack quieted. Rarity went on. “He was saddened by the loss of course, and the fact that he ended up outliving his own child, but he took comfort in the belief that we all return to the stars when our time comes. He was lonely, but he was happy that his loved ones had lived good lives.” Rarity paused for a solid minute, idly examining her hooves. “He had made peace by the time I met him, but he told me how it felt to watch his daughter fade away, when he, her father, was powerless to stop it. He told me of an ancient Neighponese legend. It claims that if a pony can fold one thousand origami paper cranes, that pony will be granted a miracle.” “A miracle?” Applejack looked skeptical, and then snorted. “Well, that ain’t something I would ever be able to prove. I can’t do artsy stuff like that.” Rarity shook her head, “According to him, it’s less a question of the object being created as it is devotion to the task. The idea that anypony who can fold one thousand paper cranes is not only capable of accomplishing anything, but worthy of whatever wish they might make.” Applejack put two and two together, “But, his daughter died, right?” Rarity nodded soberly. “He failed. When she passed away he had only completed eight hundred and forty-seven of them.” “Eight hundred and…paper cranes?” Applejack looked amazed, “Those little things? Was he a unicorn?” “No,” Rarity replied simply, “he was an earth pony.” Applejack glanced at her hooves. They were fine tools for running, bucking, digging, and many other pursuits, but she couldn’t fathom how an earth pony, despite her tribe’s natural tenacity, could fold even one tiny, delicate, origami crane. “I fixed his scarf,” Rarity smiled wanly. “He offered to pay me. I wouldn’t take it of course. He went out into the morning with a tune on his lips and I never saw him again.” “Do you think he really folded eight hundred and forty-seven paper cranes by himself?” Rarity shrugged. “Who knows, darling? Even with my magic and my skill with small details, I doubt I could accomplish a feat like that. I’m not much for working with paper, I’m afraid.” Applejack stood there until a spark flickered to full flame in her mind. Her eyes opened wide, realization setting in. “The caps…” “I’ve made fifty-two so far,” Rarity answered the unasked question. “Minus the few casualties of my outburst earlier.” Her voice began to crack, and her pauses lengthened. When she smiled again, the gesture was helpless, coupled with a peaking of her eyebrows in the center of her forehead. “If one thousand folded pieces of pretty paper can grant a miracle…can you imagine what a thousand garish, fully-functional crocheted caps can accomplish?” Applejack didn’t know what to say. The image of her friend sitting alone, knitting caps in despair while she was out having a good time with thoughts of presents and seven-layer bean dip filled her with pity and shame. Uncertain what do to, she walked over to the couch and clicked her heels, coming to a measure of military attention and puffing out her chest. “I can’t sew,” Applejack admitted, “Or knit. Or crochet. But so help me I’ll try. O-or maybe we could get Twilight to—” “That would be cheating, dear,” Rarity’s wan expression never changed. “Even though I’m unaware of any rules pertaining to the task, I’m sure the powers that be would consider any magic beyond what I would use to hold the yarn and the hooks as a violation of the spirit behind it.” She dipped her head. “I have to do this myself. Much like that old Neighponese stallion, this is...all I can do, for her.” Applejack deflated. She sat lightly on the couch, and for a time, the two friends watched the snow fall under the canopy of Luna’s grace that gave birth to the moon. The carolers were closer, such that Applejack couldn’t help but lightly hum a few bars of ‘It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Hearth’s Warming.’ Rarity took up the melody, and the both of them sat there, softly humming out the song without words. When they emerged from their reverie, Applejack glanced at the nearby clock. She rose, knowing that her attempt had been made - there was nothing she could do at this point but leave. “We’ve been in your way long enough. I’ll go round up the fillies. You…take care, okay? You an’ Sweetie Belle both. If there anything…and I mean anything I can do—” “Rarity?” A small voice descended angelically from above, emitting a single word that solidified all the air in the room until it was nearly tangible. In Rarity’s current state of self-loathing the sound of her name meant nothing, but the voice speaking it shot her up to instant high alert. She stood straight up on the couch and gaped like a minnow drowning in oxygen towards the stairs. There, standing on her own but closely flanked by her two best friends, stood Sweetie Belle. Unfettered by the heavy olive-drab blanket she was always enshrouded in during Rarity’s visits to her room, the elder sibling was finally able to survey the entirety of the damage inflicted by the younger’s ‘treatment’. Sweetie Belle’s lovely tail was little more than a feather duster-sized stump wiggling at her backside. She was not skin and bone, but it was plainly obvious she had lost weight, and her pallor was pale even despite her natural coloring. Her body was marred by blotches of the dark flesh beneath that gave her white coat hairs their natural gray tinge, making her look like she had been rolling in chimney soot. Her left cutie mark had a large gash of missing hair straight through the middle of it, while the right one had been reduced to little more than a collection of unrecognizable colored fuzz. Healthy foals always had a look of blooming towards their ultimate goal of adulthood. This one looked as though she was wilting. Atop Sweetie Belle’s head was one of the raggy winter caps. It matched the primary color of her mane, but there was no mane whatsoever spilling out from underneath it. She smiled weakly, thick bags under her gray-green eyes, and said simply- “I…really like it, Rarity. Thanks for making it for me.” Frozen in place, Rarity held a hoof over her mouth to steel her response. Applejack wasn’t so well prepared. A gasp escaped her lips; the sound intensifying when her eyes trailed over to Sweetie Belle’s companions. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were each wearing one of the sloppy crocheted caps. Apple Bloom’s bow was tied around the base of her tail, and much like their ill companion, neither of the two healthy Crusaders had even a single strand of their beautiful manes poking out from under their headgear. “Sugarcube, what…” Applejack felt a shiver run through her. “What did you do…?” Withholding an immediate answer, the two flanking Crusaders took to helping their companion slowly manage the stairs. Both of the adults were too stunned to react, and could do little but watch the three fillies descend from the heavens, until the last pair of their hooves reached the bottom floor of the boutique. Applejack was now in a position to view Sweetie Belle’s flank. She managed to bite back the gasp this time, but shock wrapped itself around her synapses and climbed back into her brain when the rest of the scene was revealed to her. Where Apple Bloom’s cutie mark should have been, there was nothing but a blotch of completely shaven, slightly pink flesh. Noticing her big sister’s stare, Apple Bloom showed no fear – she spun slowly in place, revealing the matching shaved spot on the other side of her body. Scootaloo did the same, until it was beyond the shadow of a doubt what the crusaders had done to themselves. “B-but…you…I…” Applejack had no words. Her lower lip felt like concrete, and she forced herself to wet her whistle before she dared speak again. “…why? Y’all…cutie marks mean everything to y’all…” Apple Bloom’s smile was soft, honest, and beautiful. She replied easily. “We’re all Cutie Mark Crusaders, or ain’t none of us Cutie Mark Crusaders.” Scootaloo elaborated- “Until Sweetie Belle gets her cutie mark back, neither one of us are going to have ours. We don’t want them if we can’t all have them together.” She went slightly cross-eyed staring up at her own head. “Same with our manes.” “Besides,” Apple Bloom grinned, inclining her head as well, “Washin’ my mane is kind of a pain in the rump anyhow.” Rarity had separated herself from her perch on the couch. She was standing before her little sister, and her lips were moving…but no words emitted from her. She reached out as if to touch Sweetie Belle’s cheek, retracted the limb before making contact, reached instead for her shoulder, and again failed - it was as if she was afraid of breaking the little filly with so much as a touch. Sweetie Belle winced, misinterpreting, “Rarity, uh…I’m…” She swallowed, “…sorry I’m not pretty anymore.” Rarity mouthed the word ‘pretty’ twice. She placed a hoof over her mouth again, trying to still the gyrations of her lips, but the torrent of raw emotion she had kept at bay was smashing against her mind so hard that she could feel it slamming into the back of her eyes. One tear slipped through – it ran down a worn, well-used track in her cheek and pooled where her wrist met her chin. “You…you’re standing up…” Sweetie Belle looked oblivious. “Yeah?” “You’re…out of your room…” Sweetie Belle blinked. “I…I guess so?” “…you smiled at me…” “I-I’m sorry—“ The ill crusader never managed to get the rest of the apology out. Rarity was on her knees, her forelegs wrapped around her sister so tightly that it seemed her life depended on it. Maybe it did. Rarity peppered Sweetie Belle’s beleaguered brow with butterfly kisses. “Oh darling…oh my sister…” She blubbered, “…how could you ever say that…pretty…what’s pretty…” She buried her face in Sweetie Belle’s cap, her shoulders and chest heaving with the sobs that would no longer be denied. “…of course you’re pretty…you’re the most beautiful sight to ever grace my life…I’d burn every scrap of fabric in this building and never touch a sewing needle again in my life, so help me Celestia, just to see you smile like that again…there’s no gemstone that shines like you…no couture that could ever compare…” Sweetie Belle, overcome with sniffles of her own, only stood there. She bowed her head slightly, closing her eyes and smiling a sweet, serene smile as her sister bathed her in tears. Their horns both sprang to life with a soft glow – emerald and sapphire lights that danced affectionately around one another in the still air. “I’m sorry…” Sweetie Belle muttered, “…for almost giving up.” “I-I’m sorry too,” Rarity whimpered, “…for the same.” Applejack motioned to the remaining crusaders. When they were by her side Apple Bloom opened her mouth to address the unicorns, but Applejack held up a silencing hoof. “Shush,” She commanded gently. “They need this. Let ‘em have it.” Applejack walked her two young charges to the window, where the three of them politely watched the snow fall. Applejack wrapped a foreleg around each of their necks and held them close. “…I’m dern proud of y’all,” She said simply. “Both of you.” “You’d never have let me do it if I asked first,” Apple Bloom said, her tone without malice. Applejack shook her head honestly. “Nope. I wouldn’t have.” “...we had to do this,” Apple Bloom commented. “We had to get her out of there. She was drownin’ in there, an’ she needed us. I know you understand, Sis." “Applejack…” Scootaloo meeped, “Don’t be mad at Apple Bloom.” Applejack said nothing. For a time there was silence save for the conversation between the reuniting unicorns, but Apple Bloom jarred back to life when something wet stuck the back of her bare neck. She looked up, and there stood her big sister. The most stoic, steadfast, reliable pony she had ever known. Crying like a foal. Apple Bloom smiled carefully. “I thought you told your friends you only cry on the inside.” Applejack retracted her foreleg and gently nudged her sister’s cheek with the tip of her hoof, her tears flowing without shame. “Heh…dernit…you just shush and gimmie my moment too…” Scootaloo was looking back at her own flank. “I can’t believe we really did this.” “Me either,” Apple Bloom grinned, “I wanted a cutie mark for so long, and I know it ain’t really gone, but…don’t it feel good?” The young Pegasus smiled broadly. “…I think I might feel even better than I did when I got my cutie mark.” Apple Bloom shook her head simply to feel the odd sensation of no mane brushing her neck. “Guess we need to wear our scarves out in the cold even more than ever, huh?” The two Crusaders shared a moment of lighthearted laughter. Applejack stepped back from them to rub her eyes, and nearly trod over Sweetie Belle in the process. The filly’s reflection in the window became evident when Applejack stepped out of the way, and all eyes fell upon her. “I’m really sorry,” Sweetie Belle began again, this time to her friends. Apple Bloom spoke right up, “Y’all don’t have nothing to be sor—” “Maybe not,” Sweetie Bell cut her friend off, “but I’m sorry anyway. Sorry I said that I didn’t want to see any of you. The truth is, I’m…really scared. It hurts, down deep inside me...and I didn’t want you all to see that. But you’re all my friends, and...I can’t do this without you. I know that now.” Applejack gained a measure of control over her emotions and summoned the openly weeping Rarity with one foreleg. The two adults shared an embrace. “Ain’t a pony worth a thing without friends,” Applejack contributed to the Crusaders’ conversation from over Rarity’s shoulder. Sweetie Belle began to look dizzy. Apple Bloom was by her side in the flash of a second, but Sweetie Belle shook her head, waving her friend off. “I…wanna stand up on my own.” Scootaloo approached from Sweetie Belle’s other side. She shared a knowing look with Apple Bloom, and the two fillies gently pinched their friend between their flanks, supporting her in a more passive way. Sweetie Belle favored each of them with a look of appreciation, and continued her confession- “After I told you both to go away the first time, I thought to myself, if I died tomorrow...who would come to my funeral?” Applejack looked grim. She stroked Rarity’s back and wanted to dismiss the pessimistic turn the conversation had taken, but found that she had no stomach for chastising the afflicted little filly. “A-and I realized,” Sweetie Belle turned to Apple Bloom, “That you would be there. And you-” She nodded to Scootaloo, and then turned to the adults. “And you Rarity, and you Applejack…and a bunch of other ponies too. And then I realized how much I’m cared about, and how silly I was being for wanting to keep everything to myself...but I was still scared. I didn’t know what to say to anypony.” “You told us you weren’t a crusader anymore,” Scootaloo said. “But if you’re not, then we’re not either.” “We’re gonna be by your side every single minute till you get better,” Apple Bloom announced. “You’re gonna beat this, ya hear? And then we’ll all be back together, better than ever!” Sweetie Belle held her hoof out. Each crusader laid their own atop it. “Cutie Mark Crusaders FOREVER!!” The trio announced in unison. As the disheveled crusaders made merry, Applejack took Rarity aside. She nodded at the empty tree skirt on the floor. “First thing in the morning I’m bringin’ you the finest evergreen anypony in this town ever saw, cut ‘n ready. And I ain’t takin’ no for an answer so don’t even try.” Rarity, her lenses and measuring tape discarded, wiped her eyes on the back of her hoof and glanced into a mirror, as though she hadn’t seen her own reflection in weeks. “Goodness,” She said through a rattling chuckle, “I look positively dreadful.” “Yep,” Applejack replied bluntly. “Like you’ve been to Tartarus and back.” She stood beside her friend in the mirror. “But ya did come back.” Rarity turned her attention to the fillies, who were still standing by the window, chatting as they marveled at the illustrious blanket of snowy night. “I can’t give in to despair anymore. I won’t.” She sniffed once, “Look at me. I’m not even the one who’s sick. My little sister needs me.” “That’s right, she needs you,” Applejack agreed, touching Rarity’s chest to drive home the point. “Not winter caps, and not miracles. She needs you to be the best you y’ever done been. Rarity’s eyes began to shine the way they did when inspiration was knocking at her door. “If she can smile, so can I.” Applejack looked hopeful, “No more talkin’ about if she might die?” Rarity shook her head defiantly. “From now on, it’s going to be about when she gets better. We’ll strut down every runway when we come to it. Together.” A sudden pounding at the door, followed by a muffled voice, commanded the room’s attention. “Hey! You guys in there?” “We’re havin’ a cup of cheer, Dash!” Applejack called merrily. “Sorry but it ain’t cider!” Rainbow Dash appeared in the doorway, shaking the freshly fallen snow out of her boots. “Huh? How’s every…pony…” She trailed off when she noticed the crusaders, all of the crusaders, fixing her with broad grins. Scootaloo trotted over, bright as a torch...with a cap on her head, no mane, and a blank space where each of her cutie marks used to be. “Hey Rainbow Dash!” She greeted. “Did you get the sleigh ready?” “Sleigh?” Sweetie Belle brightened. “Are we going for a sleigh ride?” “Better’n just a sleigh ride,” Apple Bloom chimed in, “A sleigh ride in the sky!” “Can I go!?” A spring returned to Sweetie Belle’s step, and she managed to close the distance to her sister with renewed vigor. “Please? I’ll bundle up, I promise!” Applejack turned to Rarity. “That alright with you?” Rarity weighed the consequences. Considered the cold. Bit her lip. Finally she looked at Dash. “A short flight, yes?” The crusaders let out a communal whoop - as they frolicked in victory, Dash was left gaping, stupefied at the physical condition of all three. She regarded them with the hard stare of a pony who was on the brink of failing to solve a Rubik’s Cube. “What…happened here?” Rarity’s smile was characteristically suave. “Oh, nothing darling. Just a little impromptu gathering to celebrate that tomorrow’s a brand new day!” Dash ended up ruffling Scootaloo’s cap as the filly sought to scamper by. “Hey little buddy, um…what’s up with your mane? And your cutie mark? Are you okay?” Despite the apparent abnormalities, Scootaloo was beaming with a warmth Dash hadn’t seen in over a month. She reached out and affectionately punched Dash’s shoulder. “I’m better than okay. We all are.” She grinned mischievously, “You wanna shave!?” Dash chuckled nervously and let the filly go. “That’s, eh heh…that’s alright.” As the fillies frolicked, Dash approached the adults with her ears down. Whenever her eyes strayed to Rarity, they immediately diverted away. “Rarity, uh, I’m…sorry I haven’t been around. I just-” Rarity reached out and touched Dash’s lips with a hoof. “Darling, please. It’s Hearth’s Warming. Thank you for coming.” Applejack could see the embarrassment and uncertainly on Rainbow Dash’s face. All her bluster, all her pride...the champion flyer clearly wanted so badly to comfort her friend, but she was uncertain what to say or do, so she had kept her distance. Applejack would not let Dash’s apprehension regress into the fear that was compromising her sense of loyalty. She came up next to the pegasus and slapped her withers gently. “Dash here’s been workin’ on that new sleigh she got for weeks now, and its kept her busy! I hear it’s smoother than six-hour churned applebutter cuttin’ through the sky.” She smiled reassuringly at Dash, “Ain’t that right?” Dash flashed her friend an instantaneous look of appreciation before her grin split into something more daring. “You bet it’s right!” She exclaimed, speaking loud enough for the fillies to hear. “You guys are gonna wanna create an airborne division for the Cutie Mark Crusaders after tonight!” A chorus of yays and excited squealing bled into the sound of voices from outside. Everypony exchanged momentary confused glances, but one by one their trained ears tuned in on the sound, and each face lit up with holiday cheer. Dash made it to the door first. There in the snow stood no less than twenty denizens of Ponyville. Decked out in top hats, holly-bough hair ornaments, and various cozy looking scarves or coats, the group was made up of ponies of all ages, voices raised in constant song as they went between the various homes and businesses to share Hearth’s Warming cheer. Everypony in Ponyville knew of the tradition – for the final week leading up to Hearth’s Warming, the caroling group was as constant as the flame that burned throughout the Equestria Games. Ponies continually joined and left, the whole town pitching in to keep it going. They sang- “O, rest ye, merry gentlecolts Let nothing you dismay, Remember that togetherness Keeps windigos at bay. We’ll save ourselves from icy pow’r, In fertile fields we’ll lay- O-oh tidings of Hearth’s Warming joy Hearth’s Warming joy! O-oh tidings of Hearth’s Warming joy!” The Cutie Mark Crusaders stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the doorway of the boutique, each one backed by her literal or figurative big sister. “I’m dern proud of you,” Applejack squeezed Apple Bloom’s shoulder. “Your friends are luckier than an intact snake after a wagon race just to have you.” Apple Bloom beamed. “I got good role models, that’s all.” Rainbow Dash tapped Scootaloo’s withers to the beat. “I dunno what you did here little buddy, but I’m taking you on a private, one-Wonderbolt-powered flight tomorrow, and I can’t wait for you to tell me all about it!” “Really?” Scootaloo beamed, “Can we go fast?” Dash made a clucking noise with her cheek. “Tch, are you kidding? We’re already there and back, your eyes just haven’t caught up yet!” Scootaloo shut her eyes tightly and giggled, “Awesome!” Rarity was gently stroking the back of Sweetie Belle’s bare neck just above her scarf, in a place she knew used to soothe her sister as an infant. “Things are going to be different, dear. Tomorrow we’re going to make the boutique the most seasonably fashionable locale in the whole town. And then we’re going caroling, and we’re going to buy the biggest, most beautiful carrot cake from Sugarcube Corner that bits can buy.” Sweetie Belle blushed, her voice small. “I’m sorry I tried to push everypony away. I know you care.” “We-I love you, darling,” Rarity replied. “With every piece of my heart. You have a beauty that outshines the stars themselves. You must never forget that, and I will be by your side every day to remind you.” Sweetie Belle leaned back into her elder sister, appreciating her familiar scent and warmth. “…thanks, Sis. I love you too.” Behind the carolers, flickering in the glow of warm lamplight, a streamlined sled with lightning bolts painted on the sides patiently waited. A high moon and starlight sky twinkled down on a Ponyville that was slightly brighter than it had been just hours before. Three friends were whole again. Together they shared the magic of friendship. A magic that can accomplish anything - if only you believe. Blue Without YouThere were six more days until Hearth's Warming. In Ponyville, the bitter winds and barren branches of winter were held at bay by the seasonal tidings of joy that seemed to flow forth from the land itself - infusing every rock, tree, and pony with a glowing warmth that no squall, even that from the ancient windigos, could ever hope to stamp out. The tolling of silver bells rang eagerly in the hearts of anticipating foals, and each evergreen bough glistened with all the pomp and circumstance of rich Equestrian history. Not a single quaint cottage door was bereft of a festive wreath, and boughs of holly lay in neat arrangements over every sleeping flowerbox. On an inconsequential street corner, a quartet of ponies stood under a canopy of lights strung from one roof to another. Wrapped securely in woolen scarves and winter finery, they bade good afternoon to a score of wandering carolers with whom they had just shared an impromptu tune. Applejack turned her muzzle to the sky and drew in a deep breath. She let it out audibly, and on its cusp she emitted a contented sigh. “Hoo-wee!” She exclaimed, stamping her hooves in appreciation, “Y’all smell that? That there’s the pick of the harvest baking in that pie!” Rainbow Dash, her hooves clad in stiff booties bearing her mark, tasted the breeze in turn. She couldn’t help a sigh of her own, but her eyebrow cocked up wryly. “Eh, I dunno. I mean that’s totally the best apple pie I’ve smelled all day, but how do you know those are your apples in it?” Apple Bloom snorted so loudly that she drew all attention to herself. The deep magenta of the large bow that always kept her mane in check was accented nicely by the scarf that was double-wrapped around her neck. “Tch, are you kiddin’? My sister never forgets an apple. If she says it’s one of ours? It’s one of ours. There ain’t no room for argument.” Rounding out the quartet was Scootaloo, who’s cap and scarf also perfectly accented the cerise shock of her mane and tail. Her expression mirrored her mentor’s exactly, and she offered her two bits- “Oh come on Apple Bloom, no she can’t.” Realizing her friend’s elder sister was standing right there, she glanced up at Applejack with a sheepish grin. “I mean, no offense or anything. Just there have to have been what? Hundreds of thousands of apples that you’ve picked in your life? And you can remember all of them?” Applejack huffed, turning her muzzle up in a haughty gesture better suited for the Canterlot elite. “By size, color, texture, and scent. Sure as my old granny can tell you exactly how many jars of jam Stinkin’ Rich bought during the very first zap apple harvest. Knowin’ yer apples is in the family blood!” She placed a hoof on Apple Bloom’s head, ruffling her mane in a parental gesture. “You’ll get there too someday Sugarcube, don’t you fret.” Apple Bloom beamed with pride. Dash settled her rump against a wall and folded her forelegs, grinning slyly. “Alright, fine. How many mugs of apple cider did I have at harvest time two years ago? And which apples were they made from?” Scootaloo rolled her eyes and chuckled, “Rainbow Dash, there’s no way Applejack can possibly know how many--” “Eight,” Applejack replied smugly, matching her friend’s expression. “Three of ‘em came from the back forty stock, and another three from the east field. You preferred the back forty because while they ain’t as good for bakin’, their natural sweetness makes ‘em particularly great for snacking that year.” Dash scrambled or a hole to exploit. “Oh yeah? How about the eighth one?” “That one,” Applejack grinned, “came from Granny Smith’s private stock. You want me to elaborate? I remember every bit of it, and I’ll ask ya Dash,” her grin broadened, “Do you really think I would spin a tale like that? And about apples, of all things?” “Wait, what?” Apple Bloom’s brow clouded, “What private stock? You mean the extra barrel we keep for ourselves?” She scrunched her muzzle in thought, “What’s so special about that?” The petting of Apple Bloom’s head took on a tone of condescension as her elder sister replied. “Dont’cha worry none about that, Sugarcube. I’ll tell ya all about it when you get a little older. Unless, that is-” Applejack’s emerald eyes slid over to the taller pegasus, “Rainbow Dash here wants to call my bluff.” Apple Bloom puffed her cheeks and bounced her legs as though on a pogo stick. “Aw, that’s what you always say! I’m old enough to handle anything!” She brightened at the amendment from her sister, her eyes darting back and forth between the two mares. “Wait, you will? I wanna know!” She stared at Dash while pointing at Applejack, “Tell her I wanna know!” Dash pushed off from the wall with her wings and held her hooves up in a gesture of surrender. “Alriiiiight alright already, geez! I get it, you know your apples. Let’s, um...keep that to ourselves, ‘kay?” “You don’t even remember it yourself, do ya,” Applejack phrased the words as a statement, rather than a question. Dash gritted her teeth, blushed, and made a show of looking away. “...no.” “But I wanna knowwww!” Apple Bloom complained. Scootaloo laid a consoling hoof on her friend’s withers and smiled. “Yeah, I don’t think they’re gonna tell us anything.” “Awwww...” Apple Bloom withered, dipping her head, “Darn.” Applejack’s smile fit the season perfectly. She stepped over to her cyan friend and wrapped a foreleg around her lithe frame. “Aw, buck up. You’re a faster flyer than I am!” Dash looked droll, “...yeah well you don’t even have wings, so...” Abandoning the topic, Applejack trotted out into the street and spun to meet her companions, her thickly tied mane tousling along with her bright red scarf as she moved. Her countenance was brighter than all the colors of the reflected light on the icicles above her head. “Well now, what would you fillies like to do for the rest of the day?” She queried. “There’s plenty of pretty decorations to check out in the market district, or we could go drop in on the palace maybe?” Dash caught Applejack’s enthusiasm and reflected it out upon the fillies from the opposite direction. “Oh yeah! I heard Twilight really outdid herself on the tree this time around. It’s twice as tall as last year’s! I bet it’s awesome, we should totally go and check it out.” The two crusaders let the wave of ardor wash over them. They shared a wordless glance at one another, but Scootaloo spoke first, nudging her friend in the ribs. “...go on, tell them!” Apple Bloom squirmed, “Right, right, just...gimmie a sec here...” Apple Bloom picked her steps in the street as she closed with the mares, careful to avoid wayward patches of ice. Scootaloo followed. With their ears mutually down in a gesture of humility, Apple Bloom took a deep breath, looked her big sister in the eye, and spoke. “We want to go see Sweetie Belle.” Applejack felt a shiver run down her spine that wasn’t brought on by the cold. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Rainbow Dash, who was biting her lip and making furious throat-cutting gestures with one hoof. Applejack rose a brow helplessly, until Dash changed her approach to dramatically sniffing the air while pointing down the street. “Well, that...we could do that, but...” Applejack took Dash’s cue and ran with it, “But hey! I bet that apple pie smell is comin’ from Sugarcube Corner!” She rubbed her stomach and licked her lips, “Mmhmm, huh? I dunno about you, but I sure could go for somethin’ sweet right now!” “So could we Applejack,” Apple Bloom said stubbornly, “But you an’ I aren’t talking about the same ‘sweet’.” Rainbow Dash silently smacked her own forehead over the poor use of words. Applejack felt the eyes of the fillies crushing her like a juicer. Subtly she twitched her tail in Dash’s direction. It was a prepared signal, and instantly the newest Wonderbolt zipped in to run interference. “Hey! I got it!” Dash interceded, now right by Scootaloo’s side, “How about a sleigh ride?” “O-oh yeah!” Applejack followed along, “That’d be just the thing to do on a day like today! The rollin’ hills, pretty blankets of white as far as your eye can see...” “That’s awesome and everything,” Dash added, “but I was thinking of something way cooler,” She held her foreleg up and panned it in an arc through the air. “I could take us all on a sleigh ride in the sky! I just got one of those extra-light, streamlined speed sleighs that they use for air-hauling competitions.” She patted Scootaloo roughly on the withers, “Whattaya say, little buddy? Wouldn’t that be just the totally most awesomest thing ever!?” Scootaloo reached up to gently pat the offered foreleg, somewhere around Dash’s elbow. “That’s...that’s great and all Rainbow Dash, but Apple Bloom and I have been talking about it, and...we really want to go and see Sweetie Belle.” Dash’s expression turned uncharacteristically towards helplessness. She let out a dry chuckle. “But...you really love it when I take you up into the sky for a spin around the clouds...” Scootaloo’s patting became a gentle, single touch. Her smile was apologetic. “Sure I do. It’s just...” Words failed. Apple Bloom picked up the slack. “It’s just that she’s our best friend and we ain’t even seen her in a whole month,” The earth filly explained. She turned to her big sister, offering her a pointed frown. “It ain’t like we don’t appreciate all your neat ideas, but...you understand big sis, dont’cha?” “Heyyyy,” Dash pulled away from the younger pegasus and interposed herself between the two Apple siblings, looming over the younger with an overly friendly grin. “I get what this is. If you’re afraid of heights, don’t worry about it! I’ve tooootally got’cha covered! You’re completely safe with me, so there’s no need to--” Dash felt a hoof on her shoulder. Cut off from her words, she turned just enough to gaze upon the resigned shaking of Applejack’s head. “Game’s up, Dash.” “B-but...” Dash blubbered softly, “...we were supposed to...” “Supposed to what?” Apple Bloom’s expression worked back and forth between curiosity and anger. She fixed her elders with a withering stare in the middle of the semi-crowded street, but kept her voice even. “What were you supposed to do, Applejack?” Applejack glanced at Rainbow Dash. The latter scratched the back of her neck uncomfortably and took a step out of the way of the two Apple siblings. Applejack approached her younger sister, a careful ease in her tone as she explained. “Sugarcube, it’s just...” She swallowed, “Sweetie Belle, she...she don’t really wanna see nopony right now.” “So Rarity asked us to keep the two of you busy with fun stu--” Dash blurted. “Dash!” Applejack scolded. Rainbow Dash flailed her forelegs. “I-I-I-I mean, we thought that maybe the four of us should just, you know...hang out more! There’s so much fun stuff to do this time of the year! Y-you don’t wanna miss out on all the awesome caroling and candy and all that, right?” “Wait a minute,” Scootaloo, who had been content with silently standing behind her more boisterous friend, breached the conversation. “Are you telling us that the two of you were only hanging out with us more often than usual this month because you think Sweetie Belle, our best friend in the whole world, wouldn’t want to see us...?” Applejack heard sirens blazing in her head. She glanced at Dash, but no further assistance was forthcoming - the rattled pegasus had slipped behind the fillies and was making crash and burn gestures with her hooves. Applejack sighed deeply and took in another deep breath of the sharp winter air. “It ain’t like that,” She stated evenly, feeling somewhat indignant over the implied accusation. “Y’all both know that Rainbow Dash and I treasure every moment we get to spend with the both of you.” Apple Bloom, her chest puffing with the stubbornness of her bloodline, ignored the mollifying statement and went right for the throat. “Then why are you both trying to distract us with fun stuff whenever we bring Sweetie Belle up?” “I done explained that already,” Applejack gritted her teeth and dug one hoof into the slushy ground. “You gotta understand. Sweetie Belle, she...well she...” She wracked her brain for the proper words, “...things have been rough for her this past month. She ain’t been well.” “We know she’s not well!” Apple Bloom persisted, her volume drawing a glance or two from passersby. “That’s exactly why we wanna go see her! She’s been ‘unwell’ a lot longer than just a month, so what gives now that makes it any different than before?” “We used to bring her homework to her every day after school,” Scootaloo added, her tone somewhat more chaste given that she was not addressing her own flesh and blood. “Until Rarity started doing it. She would seriously, like, come to our school every day after class to get all the work for the day directly from Miss Cherilee.” She shrugged, “Isn’t Rarity, you know...too busy to do something like that every single day? It was totally no problem at all for us to just take it to Sweetie Belle ourselves.” “And then we could actually see her a little bit every day,” Apple Bloom took over again, determination hard on her brow. “How are we s’posed to make our sick friend feel better if we can’t even go and see her!?” Big sister instinct was beginning to bleed into Applejack’s conscious thoughts. Her stare hardened, matching that of her sibling’s perfectly. “Apple Bloom, you’re makin’ a scene. This ain’t the right time to be talking about this, and the both of you need to show a little respect for your best friend’s wishes--” “Did she say that?” Apple Bloom widened her stance and gazed up at her elder, cutting her off. “Did Sweetie Belle tell you, to your face, that she don’t wanna see us?” “Rarity said it.” Dash’s voice was uncharacteristically small. Worry clear on her features, she approached again, standing by her friend in a show of solidarity. “Sweetie Belle’s really sick guys. Like sicker than she was a month ago. We should leave her alone for now.” She did her best to strike an awe-inspiring pose, tousling the spectrum of her mane with a sharp wave of her neck. “So how about we go on that sleigh ride instead, huh? You have my personal, Wonderbolts-approved seal of awesomeness that it’s going to be cooler than the snow!” She focused mainly on Scootaloo, “How about it little buddy?” Scootaloo grabbed her scarf in her teeth and drew it tighter around her neck, protecting herself from a sudden extra chill in the air. She made eye contact with her mentor again, and once again, her expression was one of apology. “I love hanging out with you, Rainbow Dash,” She said carefully. “So I’m really, really sorry, but...unless Sweetie Belle herself told you she doesn’t want to see us, we want to go over there and see how she’s doing.” Dash groaned audibly and touched her hoof to her forehead in frustration. Applejack cut in, looking stern now. “Rarity told us what her sister said. Ain’t that enough fer you two?” She focused in particular on her sister, “Or are you callin’ me a liar?” Apple Bloom winced a at the perceived accusation, which she knew to be just about the worst possible thing to accuse her big sister of. “N-no! But how would you feel if you weren’t feeling good and your best friends never came to see you? Even if Sweetie Belle said that, she can’t have meant it!” Applejack was beginning to lose her patience. Ponyville vanished, and her world reduced to only herself and her sister. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna be served by you all goin’ over there! It’s the holiday season and fillies like you should be out having fun, not...not--” “Not what?” Apple Bloom fired back, “Not comforting the ponies we care about when they need us most?” Her sneer turned practically feral, and both pegasi backed away from the confrontation. “You’re still trying to protect me, Applejack! If that’s the only reason we’re spending all this time together, then it’s not even worth doing!” Applejack felt a fault line full of rage begin to crack within her. She sputtered, “Wh-what? Is that all you think wantin’ to spend time with you is!? Protectin’ you from stuff? Gosh darnit, yer my little sister, how can you ever think I wouldn’t want to just be with you!?” “If you really care about me, then let me go and see my friend!” “It’s her wishes that she don’t wanna see nopony!” Applejack growled, heedless of onlookers. “Why can’t y’all respect that!?” “I do respect her! She’s my best friend!” “Then knock it off about goin’ over there! Yer ruining the whole day with this here tantrum!” “You wouldn’t be saying that if it was Rarity who was sick! Or Fluttershy! Or Twilight!” “It ain’t like I don’t care!” Applejack exploded, steam blasting from her nostrils, “It’s because I care that I’m respecting their wishes and stayin’ away! Now you listen to me young filly, cause if you keep this here blobberin’ up, so help me I’ll tan yer hide right out here on this street corner!” “You wouldn’t dare,” Apple Bloom scowled. “You just try me, filly,” Applejack rumbled, muzzle to muzzle with her little sister. “Woah woah woah,” Dash forced her way into the conversation and between the muzzles of the rival siblings. “Come on everypony, just calm down! You’re blowing this wayyyyy out of proportion.” “She started it!” Both Apples exclaimed together, turning sharply away from one another with an audible harumph. Dash made a face and came up behind Applejack, turning her back on the foals and softening her voice to something more private. “Hey, AJ,” She began, “This isn’t what we agreed to. We said we were gonna show the foals a good time and take their mind off of stuff.” Applejack’s left ear twitched. “That’s what we’ve been doing. Until my sister decided to get more stubborn than a sleeping ursa in the middle of the road.” “Think about what you just said to her,” Dash hissed under her breath. “Did you really mean that?” Applejack’s shoulders finally slumped. “...a’course I didn’t mean it. I’m just...under a lot of stress lately.” Dash managed a small smile. “You and me both. Everypony’s nerves have been frazzled lately, but just imagine how it is for Rarity.” A few yards away, Apple Bloom’s hackles were up like a timberwolf. Scootaloo reached out, but dared not make contact with her, choosing instead to send her words out on the task. “Apple Bloom...” She began, “I wanna see Sweetie Belle too, but relax...fighting with your sister isn’t the way to do it...” “Fightin’?” Apple Bloom whirled, fire still alight in her amber eyes, “Whose fightin’? I ain’t fightin’!” “You’re totally fighting,” Scootaloo replied dryly. The cold realization cleansed the volcanic ire in the earth filly’s Apple blood. She let out a breath and seemed to deflate. “I...but, I just wanna see Sweetie Belle--” A set of heavy hoof-falls in the snow next to the earth filly cut off her words. She looked up - into the distressed, emerald eyes and familiar freckled cheeks of her elder sister. She made as if to speak, but Applejack held up a silencing hoof. “I’m sorry, Apple Bloom,” She stated frankly. “Y’all know I would never, ever raise my hoof in anger against any of my kin. Or anypony at all, really. I was just...” Applejack trailed off. In her eyes, Apple Bloom could see the same emotions, and new instantly they pertained to the exact same thing. Shamed, she reached out and placed her small hoof on her sister’s chest. “I’m sorry too.” Her eyes went crocodile, “But you...you understand, right? I know you understand.” Applejack nodded haltingly “I do. And I guess...we better get on over to the Boutique while there’s still some light out.” Applejack turned. Before her, Dash was looking pointedly away, grinding her teeth with her eyebrows turned up. Applejack spoke simply and softly. “You comin’?” “I, uh...” Rainbow Dash faltered and began watching the skyline as though she were hoping to become a part of it. “I...I’m not really good in situations like...you know...” Sensing the awkwardness, Scootaloo stepped forward and offered her adopted sister an ‘out’. “Hey Dash,” She smiled, peppering her voice with enthusiasm she hoped would be taken as genuine, “How about that sleigh ride afterwards? We won’t be long, and it totally would be just about the coolest thing ever! You could go and get it ready for us and meet us there later, couldn’t you?” “Huh?” Dash scrunched her muzzle in confusion, but just a quickly caught on. She saluted playfully. “Sure can, little boss-buddy! It’s not every day you can get a personal sleigh-ride from a Wonderbolt anyway, now is it!” “Nope!” Apple Bloom sang, letting Dash have her moment, “Sure ain’t, and it sounds like fun!” “It...sounds great Dash,” Applejack smiled appreciatively at Scootaloo, “Just try to keep it under a hundred miles per--” “See ya lickety-split!” Dash revved her wings like a rocket engine and was off in trail of rainbow colors so fast, she was out of sight before Applejack could finish her sentence. “--hour. Well.” Applejack adjusted her hat, which had been blown slightly off course with the force of the departure. She picked out the correct street and turned towards it, but Apple Bloom touched her foreleg, giving her pause. “...thanks Applejack.” “...sure Sugarcube,” Applejack smiled wanly. “Come on now, let’s git. It ain’t polite to come callin’ after dark.” With a dozen hooves crunching rhythmically in the snow, the trio of somber ponies began their pilgrimage across town.
Knitting's Poorer CousinLate afternoon brought no respite from the cold. Silent through their journey, the three ponies tugged their scarves tighter around their necks and trotted single-file, each of them swiveling their ears and attention intermittently between their goal and the distant caroling from the center of town. The Carousel Boutique was no less chic a locale than ever, but the wreath upon its door was without adornment, and not a single light intended for purposes other than utility burned from within. The round building sat as silent as a forgotten lighthouse on a barren cliff. Apple Bloom came out from her place in line and rapped her hoof on the door, “Sweetie Belle? Rarity? Y’all home?” When no response was forthcoming, Applejack stepped up behind her sister, reached over her, and gave the door a more proper throttling. “Rarity!” She called out, purposefully deepening her pitch to make her voice carry further, “You here?” “—moment!” A muffled, yet unmistakable adult voice called, “One moment, please!” A smattering of clacking hooves was accompanied by the click of the knob and eventual departure of the front door from its frame. Rarity, much of her body hidden under a surprisingly scraggly cyan bathrobe, stood in the doorway with her red cheaters resting pensively on her muzzle. Her hoof still on the door, she regarded the group with a disinfected glare. “I’m sorry but we’re closed right now—oh,” She blinked, batting her curled eyelashes twice, “Applejack? What, is something the matter?” Applejack cleared her throat and indicated the fillies merely by moving her eyeballs up and down several times. Rarity followed the gesture and did her best to keep her smile alive. “I…I thought you were…” Applejack sighed. “I thought so too. But here we are now.” “Please don’t be upset Rarity,” Scootaloo emerged from the line to make her presence known, batting her wings without thought, “We were having a really nice day. We made Applejack bring us here.” “Yeah,” Apple Bloom chimed in, suddenly feeling the need to avert her eyes to the frozen grass, “It wasn’t her fault. We kinda insisted.” Rarity’s elegant brows turned up. “Oh, darlings,” she offered melodiously, “Of course I’m not upset.” She stood aside and waved her foreleg into the room proper, “Come in, come in, I insist! You must be freezing out there, and it simply will not do for you to spend one moment longer bereft of a nice cup of cocoa.” As the troupe marched by, Applejack dipped her head in a gesture of silent apology to their host. Rarity shook her own head dismissively and pranced after them into the expansive showroom area of the boutique. “Well then!” She announced, stamping one hoof pointedly, “I have dark chocolate cocoa, some lovely pumpkin spice mix, and oh—a virgin Prench vanilla eggnog that’s simply divine! Why you must try it with a dash of cinnamon and nutmeg!” “Well gee Rarity,” Applejack sought to keep the mood light, “All those sound like they’d really hit the spot right about now.” She turned to the fillies, who were inspecting with interest a number of mannequins that had been gathered in one corner of the room. “How ‘bout y’all, girls? Which one sounds the best?” The Crusader’s attention was not on the conversation. Both of them were staring up at the heads of the taller mannequins. Apple Bloom spoke first, and as usual her inquiry lacked any sense of tact. “Rarity, what’s all this here?” Rarity shifted her weight uncomfortably several times, but kept her lips turned up in a forced smile. “Why…whatever do you mean, dear? Any good designer relies on the tireless assistance of her runway of canvas models.” “Uh, I think she means these,” Scootaloo clarified. She beat her wings furiously, gaining about two inches from the floor, and utilized the few seconds she could maintain it to point derisively at the head of the closest mannequin. Each of the dozen or so models that were arranged in the corner was wearing a thick earflap beanie winter cap, complete with tassels for securing it under the chin. Each cap was constructed from wool dyed in hues from every color of the spectrum, most garishly bright and cheery. They were colorful, but also bulky and haphazard, lacking any refined sense of style. “A-ah, yes well…” Rarity raised her hoof to smooth out a collection of frizzy locks that had seceded from her mane, and began to trip over her words as if she had four left hooves. “Those are…I-I suppose you could call them…winter…boho-chic?” Applejack stepped far enough to the side of the conversation to get a good look at her friend without making it obvious she was staring. The satin robe Rarity wore looked as though it had once been worthy of her caviar tastes, but even Applejack’s untrained eye for fashion could detect signs of pilling and even a small tear at the neckline. The damage was so insignificant that anypony else might have continued to employ it, but considering the garment’s owner, the flaws were downright shocking. There was a hint of puffy grayness lingering upon Rarity’s porcelain cheeks, just under her eyes. Her mane was tied up in a frazzled bun that even Applejack herself would have no use for beyond keeping hair out of her face while she slept. “Winter…boho-chic…?” Apple Bloom tasted the odd phrase, “Is that a thing?” Scootaloo shrugged, “Don’t look at me. I never heard of it before, but fashion stuff isn’t my thing.” Both fillies looked at Rarity expectantly. The elder unicorn’s grin broadened to the point that Applejack couldn’t tell where Rarity’s gleaming white teeth ended and her snowy cheeks began. “O-of course it’s a ‘thing’, darlings!” Rarity announced with a great sweep of her foreleg. “Why, It’s all the rage in Whinneapolis this season! They’ll be flying off the shelves so fast that I might just have to set up a new branch of Rarity For You in the great white north!” Balancing on her hind legs, she held her hooves aloft and peered through them as if adjusting the lens of a camera, “Form, function, and fashion! It’ll be on the cover of Snowponies Weekly for six weeks running, and it will be simply fabulous!” Applejack couldn’t take it anymore. She stepped directly in front of her frazzled friend and eyed the fillies as patiently as she could. “Girls, didn’t y’all have a reason for coming here today?” The fillies glanced at one another - both had to make a conscious effort to quell their feelings of excitement over finally being reunited with their friend. It had only been a month since they had been left with no convenient reason to stop by, but every day had felt like a small eternity in its own right. Nevertheless, they beat down the twittering in their hearts and approached Rarity solemnly, as though they were street urchins asking for a handout. Applejack stepped politely out of the way. “Rarity,” Scootaloo began, ears pinned down, “…can we please see Sweetie Belle?” A flash of dismay marred Rarity’s countenance, but she recovered so quickly it was difficult to notice. Her new smile came on the heels of a calming breath which made it easier to maintain this time. “B-but of course, my dears!” She exclaimed, her mirth brighter than the candles that blazed in every Ponyville window but her own, “Whyever would you assume otherwise? You’re all such good friends, after all.” She waved at the stairs more times than was necessary, “I believe you know where her room is. Applejack and I will be right here if you need anything!” Again the fillies shared a glance. They said nothing, but the silent looks they traded suggested neither of them were prepared for such a response. Apple Bloom looked away, set upon suddenly by a wash of shame for her earlier assumption that Rarity was the one behind keeping the Cutie Mark Crusaders apart. Scootaloo cleared her throat, reminding her partner of their goal. With a nod and words of appreciation to the mistress of the boutique, both fillies took the stairs at a gallop and were quickly out of sight. Rarity touched her shoulder with the opposite foreleg. She bowed her head, took another deep breath, and was back to her company, addressing Applejack with only a slightly less patronizing smile. “So! You’re fond of eggnog, are you not? While we wait, we can adjourn to the kitchen and talk of our plans for the holiday over a nice warm drink. It’ll be nice to catch up.” Applejack couldn’t look her friend in the eye. Instead, she cast her gaze over the showroom - it was orderly for a workspace that was in active use, but Applejack’s eye was drawn immediately to the empty round rug in the center of the room. Adorned with holiday imagery and expertly woven in all the right colors, it was still as naked as a plucked phoenix. Without turning to look at Rarity, Applejack spoke- “No tree this year?” Rarity’s eyes darted back and forth as though they were levers with which she could crank the wheels of her brain to life. “I…haven’t really had time this year, dear,” She finally offered. “Holiday crunch time and all that. I have three locations in three different cities now, you know.” “It’s only a couple days ‘till Hearth’s Warming,” Applejack replied, now appraising the room solely for its lack of holiday décor. “You usually close for the holidays around now, as I recall.” “…high fashion waits for nopony, Dear.” “Maybe,” Applejack responded simply. She walked slowly over to the mannequins, as if picking her way through a mire of thorny brambles, and touched the closest cap. It was a bright, neon green, and the wool was rough under her hoof. “You gonna tell me what all these caps are really for?” Rarity’s tone was slightly annoyed. “I believe I explained that already. You just wait. In a month, every mare in town will want one just like them.” Applejack examined the cap further, removed her hoof, and turned just enough to catch a glimpse at her haggard friend out of the corner of her eye. “They’re all sized for fillies, Rarity.” “That’s…that’s what I meant!” Rarity haughtily insisted, “In a month, every filly in town will want one just like them!” Applejack felt a spike of indignity. She knew exactly what the matron of the house was doing, but even so, she didn’t care for the song and dance. “Yer a bad liar, Rarity.” “I-I’m not lying!” Rarity practically spat, “H-how could you accuse me of something like that?” Applejack sighed, but finally met Rarity’s gaze. “Rarity, I’m gonna say somethin’ that I feel bad fer saying at all, and so I’m gonna apologize to you before I even say it.” She paused. Gathered her strength. Spoke- “My fashion sense ain’t worth a plugged bit, especially not compared to yours. But I don’t believe for one minute that there’s a such thing as ‘winter boho-chic’, though I barely know what those sorts of words are even s’posed to mean.” She yanked the nearest cap off it’s perch and draped it over her hoof, holding it up. “This here’s a passable cap. It’ll keep the snow off a pony’s head and you ain’t gonna freeze wearin’ it. That’s what somepony like me would be lookin’ for when buying a cap like this. But I’m gonna say it plain – these caps are ugly.” Applejack paused. Let the words sink in. Continued. “You can’t stand there and tell me for one solitary second that you, of all ponies, would choose function over form so much that you would make scraggly hats that are so bright they’ll burn the red right off an apple. You’d sooner close up shop and move to the diamond dog mines forever before tryin’ to pass this off as a fashion line.” “Well, I never!” Rarity let out an audible, snooty huff. “Perhaps you don’t really know me as well as you think you do, Applejack! Don’t you think I would know what’s trending in the fashion world somewhat better than you? Maybe you’d do better to simply stick to apple farming!” Applejack let the jabs chink harmlessly off her metal armor. She remembered what Dash had said about stress. If her own nerves were running this hot, Rarity’s condition must have been incalcuable. She took a breath and waited until Rarity had her back turned and her attention on obsessively adjusting the caps on the mannequin’s heads before speaking again. “These here caps are crocheted, Rarity.” Rarity didn’t turn around, “No they’re no—” “Yes they are,” Applejack cut her off. “I can’t sew any better than I can turn rocks into apples with my tail, but I seen granny do knittin’ and crochetin’ enough times to know which is which.” She swallowed, “And I know fer a fact that you ain’t got no respect for crochet.” Rarity froze. For a long moment, the only sound in the room came from the distant carolers, who had apparently moved down a closer side street. Her back still to her friend, Rarity finally offered a small, soft reply. “…I…I once told her that crochet is knitting’s poorer cousin.” Applejack didn’t have to ask who Rarity was speaking of. “But you still showed her how to do it.” “Of course I did,” Rarity responded somberly. “I was happy that she was trying something related to fashion. Something I felt I could relate to.” She paused, her her voice softened all the more. “Do you…think that makes me a bad sister?” Applejack looked exasperated, “How in tarnation do you figure that showing Sweetie Belle how to do something new makes you a bad big sister?” Rarity finally stepped away from the mannequins. With a heavy gait she walked over to the empty tree skirt-rug and nudged it with the tip of her hoof, looking down at it. “Because I did it as much for me as I did for her. I thought she might…follow in her big sister’s hoofsteps.” “That ain’t no crime, Rarity.” Rarity ignored the comment. “One time, when she burned breakfast, I stuck my muzzle up at it. I suffered through the meal, yes, and I could have just smiled and nodded, but oh no,” She gritted her teeth, “I just had to put a subtle little jab in there. And then, at the Sisterhooves Social that one year, I made so much of a stink over getting my hooves dirty that I nearly lost her. Hooves wash. It would have been fine. But I still had to be that way.” “You were eventually there for her,” Applejack ventured. Rarity’s nudging of the tree-skirt became a kicking that crumpled up one edge of it, destroying its perfect symmetrical roundness on the floor. “And the Applewood Derby. That was supposed to be for the fillies to enjoy, from start to finish. But I ruined it for her.” Applejack grinned sheepishly, “That wasn’t just your fault. I sure had a say in messin’ things up too. But we both worked it out them eventually.” “Eventually,” Rarity spat out the word as if it were a wad of nutritionally valueless straw in her mouth. “Eventually. It’s always eventually! Eventually does nothing but cause unnecessary heartache, and yet all I can do is come back later to make it eventually okay!” “But it did eventually work out,” Applejack replied. “It’s okay, Rarity. Ain’t nopony’s perfect. None of us are ever finished learnin’ how to be.” “That’s not good enough!” Rarity was shouting now, and her gaze lanced a white hot hole directly through the farmpony mare. “I can do better! I can be perfect, and she will always be happy!” “Rarity, calm d—“ “NO!” Sapphire flames crackled in Rarity’s eyes, licking so high that even Applejack winced. “You can’t possibly understand! I’m going to LOSE her, Applejack! Not just to a fight or an argument, or even as a sister – I’m going to lose her forever, and the only thing I can do about it is this!” Rarity caught a cap of hot pink in the glow of her magic. She gritted her teeth, and with a mighty grunt, she put so much pressure into the spell that the very wool itself tore through cleanly, cleaving the hat into two useless scraps. “All I can do is make clothes! It’s all I’m good at! I can’t help her, and I’m so Celestia-be-damned stuck up that apparently it would kill me to not display even the slightest hint of my snooty opinion on everything! It would be better me up there in that room than her!” She repeated her tirade, obliterating two additional caps before Applejack finally found herself close enough to slam her hoof down over one before the raging unicorn could rip it from its roost. “Rarity stop!” Applejack cried, adding a second hoof as she battled against adrenaline-fueled spellcasting. “Yer doin’ the best you can! You ain’t no doctor!!” “I’m not doing anything!” Rarity shouted, gritting her teeth hard, determined to eviscerate the royal purple cap that Applejack was protecting. “All my skills, and the best I can do is give Sweetie Belle a couture funeral and a chic shroud to die in!!” She grunted, blasting steam from her nostrils, “Let go! I don’t deserve to make pretty things and when I’m done here, there won’t be any more!” Applejack sprang into action. She lifted her hooves from the head of the mannequin, but just as quickly gave it a stern kick, knocking it over and throwing off the focus of Rarity’s magic. She then stepped up to her dear friend, and slapped her right across the cheek. “KNOCK IT OFF!” Rarity rolled with the blow, recovering quickly. She came up frozen, wide-eyed with shock. Only her lower lip continued to quiver. “Is this what you want Sweetie Belle to hear!?” Applejack scolded, her accent thickening, “You screamin’ and hollerin’ about how nothin’ you ever went through with her was good enough to show her how much you love her, and then spoutin’ off about her dying?” “B-but…” Rarity’s voice was just above a whisper. Applejack saw dykes in Rarity’s beautiful eyes that were swollen with pressure from a raging river. “…but she’s going to die…” “No she ain’t!” Applejack insisted, “At least, you don’t know that! Talkin’ like that don’t do nopony any good. It’s like stoppin’ before you even start.” Rarity cradled the reddening welt on her cheek. The pure misery in her wilted ears and the trickle of moisture from the fissures under her eyes was infectious, and Applejack found that the longer she stared at her, the more she felt a pool of Rarity’s tears inflating behind her eyes too. Rather than show them off, Applejack roughly grabbed the fashionable unicorn in a tight bear hug, pressing Rarity’s muzzle into her harvest-orange shoulder. Rarity’s dam cracked. She bawled like a baby, wetting Applejack’s shoulder with her tears while muffling her miserable cries by burying her face into the farmpony’s shoulder. Applejack tightened her grip, holding on for dear life as she stroked Rarity’s back, seeking to soothe her while sinking both of them to the floor. “Shhh, shhh…” Applejack cooed, “…it’s alright…I’m right here and I ain’t goin’ nowhere…” Rarity jerked several times, one such motion enough to knock Applejack’s hat off before she finally settled down and allowed her sobs to steal her strength. Her muscles relaxed. Her voice was tangled with sharp inhalations of breath. “I-I…I’m sorry…” She sniffed, “…I didn’t mean…I just haven’t been sleeping well and…and there’s so much stress, and I just don’t know what to do…” Applejack’s stroking hoof became a gentle pet at the back of Rarity’s neck. “Forget it,” She assured, “It’s rotten apples under the trough. But Rarity, yer shufflin’ around here like my old granny, and you got your hair up tighter’n hers.” Rarity sat up and tried in vain to look at the top of her own head. “I…I do?” “And those reading glasses,” Applejack went on. “You only use those for detail sewing work, but you got ‘em on all the time now, like your eyes just got two years older for each day gone by this month.” Rarity went cross-eyed staring at the red cheaters on her muzzle. She ensorcelled them and slipped them off her face to get a better look. “I…I didn’t even realize…” “And that,” Applejack pointed plainly at one of the tears in Rarity’s robe. When the unicorn saw it, she yelped, sprang to her hooves, and tossed the garment to the floor, stomping on it like a spider. “Eek! Wh-what in the name of all that is fashionable am I doing!?” Applejack smiled ruefully. “I been wonderin’ that myself.” Despite her snorts and the flow of her tears, Rarity managed a dry, rattling laugh. Her magic caught the tie that was holding her hair in a bun and set it free, great curly waves of violet breaking over her neck. “…dear me, I must look like I’ve been shopping at a five and ten all my life…” Applejack built upon the foundation of levity by tacking on a careful application of her own laughter. “I reckon I look like that every day. Feelin’ better?” Rarity sat on her haunches. She reached up to her face and dried one tear with the back of her hoof, but another quickly fell to take it’s place. “T-to be honest dear, I…don’t believe I am,” She bowed her head slightly, “I can’t seem to turn it off lately…every time I try to put my attention on something, all I can think about is…is what’s happening to my poor little…” She trailed off. Rising to her hooves, she trotted over to the window and gazed out of it, her ears swiveling in reception of the merry sounds outside. “There should be candles in these windows, shouldn’t there?” She said rhetorically as she ran her hoof over the sill. Applejack took a few steps towards the window as well, her eye tracing the late-day path of the sun. “I can’t answer that. What do you think?” “I always put candles in the windows,” Rarity glanced down, and saw a spattering of tears that broke up the light layer of untended dust on the sill. She wiped them away, shaking her head. “Look at me. I’m still crying. I…there should be a tree, and garland, and some lovely decorations…she would want that…” Applejack fanned the fires of the calming dialogue, “When was the last time you saw her?” “Oh, every day,” Rarity shrugged her shoulders uselessly, “I see her every day. Somepony has to take her meals to her. She…doesn’t come downstairs anymore. Not unless we’re going to the hospital for her treatments.” Applejack retrieved her Stetson from the floor. “That can’t be good for her. Did you try to—” She let the question die, realizing she already knew the answer. Rarity replied anyway. “Yes, many times. She never wants to go anywhere else while we’re out, and when we get home, she just goes right back to her room. She’s in too much pain to go traipsing around. That’s what she says, at any rate.” Applejack paused. Instead of placing her hat on her head, she held it against her chest with her foreleg. Somehow, it didn’t feel right to wear it. “She really told you she didn’t want to see her best friends?” Rarity nodded. “And before you ask dear, I’m not upset that you brought them here. If anything I’m…hoping maybe with them standing right outside her door, she might change her mind…” Applejack watched faint pinpricks of light gather in the heavens. “Rarity…why don’t the two of you come on over to the farm for Hearth’ s Warming this year? We got presents, games, a big old beautiful tree, and the best seven-layer bean dip you ever tasted. You know Apple Bloom would be happy, and you’d be more than welcome.” She tried to find a more tactful way to continue, failed, and defaulted to blunt honesty. “It’s gotta beat just holing up here by yourself, with Sweetie Belle locked up in her room. You won’t even have to lift a hoof. You got my word on that.” Rarity’s smile was distant. “Thank you darling, but Fluttershy already invited us to…whatever she does this time of year with all of her woodland friends. Twilight did too, and she went as far as to offer us rooms in the palace indefinitely. Spike comes over all the time, and though he’s being a dear, I have to turn him away occasionally just to have some time to myself.” She chuckled again, the sound like apple seeds rattling in a tin can, and glanced at Applejack’s reflection in the window. Somehow, the image was easier to talk to than the real thing. “A party…well, maybe, but…I’m not really feeling the spirit very much this year, and I don’t believe Sweetie Belle is either. And as much as I appreciate Twilight’s offer, it…feels too much like hospitalization. I don’t want Sweetie Belle to be away from the things that comfort her.” She paused, “I’m…not certain I feel that differently about your offer. Thank you very much darling, but…you understand.” Applejack nodded her assent. She was about to change the subject, but a heavy pattering of hooves turned her attention to the stairwell. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were plodding down the steps single file, their ears pinned down so flat to their scalps and their heads down so far that they looked to be in mourning. Neither of them paid any attention to the fallen mannequin, the ruined caps, or their own cold-weather accessories, which they had casually discarded before bounding up the stairs on their mission. “So, uh…” Applejack ventured a small smile, “How’d it go?” Scootaloo stopped and offered Applejack a stare so empty, it answered her question without words. Apple Bloom completely bypassed her sister, not stopping her march until she found herself in front of Rarity. Even the bow in the filly’s mane seemed to have seen fit to droop. “I owe you an apology,” Apple Bloom said soberly. “Before we got here, my sister told me that Sweetie Belle said she didn’t wanna see us. She said that you told her that, and so I…didn’t believe her. Which means I didn’t believe you, neither. I thought you were keepin’ us away from Sweetie Belle on purpose. But you were right,” She looked up at Rarity, and finally over at Applejack, “Y’all were both right. Sweetie Bell, she…she don’t wanna see us.” Scootaloo opened her mouth, but closed it again. There was simply nothing to say. All eyes watched Apple Bloom as she bent to pick up her scarf in her mouth, and took to securing it back around her neck. She was so bereft of her usual animation that she sucked all the life out of the room, bringing a chill to every spine despite the warm comfort of the boutique. “This was my idea, and I’m real sorry I wasted everypony’s time,” Apple Bloom muttered, heading for the door. “I’ll knock it off now.” “It was our idea,” Scootaloo amended. She watched her friend meander to the door, as though Apple Bloom were preparing to walk right off the edge of the earth. The young pegasus wracked her brain for just the right thing to say. She turned to Rarity. “Rarity? Sweetie Belle told us she’s not a Cutie Mark Crusader anymore. What does she mean?” Rarity closed her eyes, willing her emotions back down into the hidden abyss of her psyche, and replied without answering. “She didn’t open the door for you at all, did she girls.” The statement was not a question. Once again, the fillies glanced at one another in confusion. Both turned their attention to their friend’s elder sister. “Nope,” Apple Bloom replied, “But…how’d you know that?” This time the adults exchanged glances. Applejack took in a breath, but Rarity held up a hoof to silence her, knowing what she was about to say. “It’s alright Applejack,” Rarity announced. “It’s time they knew.” “Knew what?” The girls asked in unison. Rarity ignored the question, summoned up her inner courage again, and began walking. “May I suggest we adjourn to the kitchen,” She instructed, her hooves already pointed in that direction. “I’m certain you could all do with a nice hot cup of cocoa.” Rarity didn’t wait for an answer.
BelieveAs the afternoon aged, the shortened days of winter bled from Celestia’s realm into her sister’s. The evening was clear save for a confused peppering of clouds in the sky; uncertain of their purpose, they dusted various portions of Ponyville in intermittent sheets of puffy, light snowflakes. Three ponies sat around a breakfast table in the Carousel Boutique’s modest kitchen. A fourth, the matron of the establishment herself, approached the others alongside a levitated platter of etched silver, with four ceramic mugs balanced perfectly atop it. She slid a beverage before each pony, saving the last for herself as she set the serving tray aside. For a time, the group did nothing but watch a snow squall and allow their chosen drinks to fill them with a lasting warmth. Applejack finally broke the silence. “There ain’t nothin’ quite like being all toasty warm while watchin’ the snow fall.” “Eeeyup,” Scootaloo added in a high-pitched tone that did not suit her word choice. “Except there ain’t no holiday in it anymore,” Apple Bloom moped, her look the most distant of them all. Rarity stood behind her friend and the fillies, watching them as they considered the weather. She took a long drag from her cup, allowing the pleasant heat to permeate her like a poultice. It calmed and centered her, rebuilding the sandbags that had momentarily collapsed and allowed the torrent of her turbulent emotions through. Her cheek still stung a bit, but she was glad for any sensation that could help her cope with reality. “As I was saying, girls,” She spoke, drawing all attention to her, “It’s about time you had the whole story.” The Crusaders were all ears. Rarity continued. “Sweetie Belle is feeling self-conscious right now. I suppose I cannot entirely speak for her on her true feelings, but doubtless part of the reason she does not wish to be seen is that she feels…how shall a put this,” She paused, “…unattractive.” “Huh?” Apple Bloom snorted, drawing several drops of hot cocoa into her muzzle that elicited a choking sneeze. “But she got muddier than our whole pigpen at the Sisterhooves Social a couple months ago!” “Yeah,” Scootaloo added, “And when we were doing that play about the Buckton Tea Party, she had more tar and feathers on her than any of us. And she had a great time!” Rarity wracked her brain, “It’s…more than that, darlings. You see, she’s in a considerable amount of pain lately because the treatment to make her feel better also makes her sick…” Apple Bloom’s expression showed a complete lack of understanding. “Well that’s just plumb silly. Why would she be getting better and feeling even more sick at the same time?” Scootaloo rested her chin on the table and put her attention on her mug, pushing it idly back and forth between her hooves. “When’s Sweetie Belle going to get better?” “She…that is…” Rarity felt her words close around her like gnarled branches from the deepest depths of the Everfree. “She, well…she’s sick, but getting better makes her feel worse, and yet getting better is something that…may or may not…” Applejack slammed her mug down on the table with more force than intended. Garnering attention, she rolled with the faux-pas and blurted out the truth- “Sweetie Belle has cancer, girls.” Incomprehension passed back and forth between the foals like a low-hanging storm cloud. “Y’all don’t know what that is, do ya,” Applejack presumed. Scootaloo scratched her chin, “I remember in school once, Twist said something about her great-grandmare having that. Isn’t it just something old nags get?” Applejack took a deep breath, preparing to craft another response, but her eye caught the image of Rarity, who was standing next to the table twiddling her hooves. Applejack smiled encouragingly in her friend’s direction. “I don’t think it’s my place to go into detail, girls. Why don’tcha let Rarity explain it.” Rarity closed her eyes. Deep inside, she visualized the thorny roots that had taken hold of her heart as they grew up into her mind, coiling around her brain and confusing her thoughts. Visibly gritting her teeth, she let out a grunt and hefted an imaginary machete, coming down on each vine with a well-wetted knife of frustration. “Cancer is a disease, girls,” Rarity stated. “Anypony can get it, at any age.” She swirled her mug with her magic, staring down at the churning froth within as she considered how best to put the concept to the minds of foals. “I am far from a medical professional so forgive me for my laypony explanation, but cancer is when…well, it’s a growth. Inside your body. That’s not supposed to be there.” Scootaloo’s chin-scratching became head-scratching. Apple Bloom squinted. “Somethin’s growin’ in her body?” The earth filly asked. “Like what?” Shock suddenly overwhelmed Scootaloo’s features. “Don’t foals grow inside your body?” “Sweetie Belle’s pregnant!?” Apple Bloom blurted. “B-but wha…how??” Applejack yanked her hat off, tossed it on empty chair, and rested her forehead in one hoof, sighing deeply. “Naw, naw, girls, that ain’t it…” Rarity sought to regain control of the conversation. “What I mean is, Sweetie Belle has something growing inside her. It’s not a foal. It’s not a creature of any kind. It’s a malignant collection of cells that are growing improperly, that are damaging otherwise healthy parts of her from the inside.” Another round of dumbfounded stares cost Applejack a sliver of her patience. “Look, all the details ain’t important. What is important is that Sweetie Belle, she’s…real sick.” Rarity kept up her explanation anyway, “The therapy she’s going through right now is a certain school of magic called chemomancy. It’s designed to target the cells inside her, stunt their growth, and…hopefully destroy them. The trouble is,” She paused, collecting herself again, “It’s a…very aggressive technique, and the magic doesn’t always understand which cells it’s supposed to attack.” “If something bad is growing inside Sweetie Belle,” Scootaloo reasoned, “Can’t Princess Twilight or somepony else just…transport it out of her?” Rarity fought back the emotion and continued to wade through the difficult topic. She drained her mug so quickly that she turned back to the counter for more. “Sometimes they can, dear. But there are certain cancers that are so well embedded in certain parts of the body that removing them simply through teleportation runs a very high risk of…removing the affected body part, as well. Or some portion of it that’s too significant to do without.” Scootaloo hesitated. Apple Bloom didn’t. “What part of her body has it?” Rarity doubled the touch of nutmeg in her second cup of warm eggnog. She paused at the counter, her gaze tracing the wavy patterns of the decorative backsplash. “…it’s in her brain, dear.” When nopony spoke, Rarity continued. Her voice became husky, and as she spoke, Applejack came to understand why her friend refused to turn around. “Brain cancer is…far more common in unicorn ponies,” She touched her head, “because of our horns and our magic. The exact causes are difficult to determine, but one of the theories suggests that since magic is a naturally unpredictable and chaotic thing, overuse of it by a unicorn can potentially result in unexpected effects centering on the area around our heads.” Her tail drooped, “…some say that too much exposure by one unicorn’s magic to another could be as much of a factor…that the clashing magic auras could cause mutations…” Applejack pushed away from the table so quickly that she rent the stillness with a jarring skid-noise from the legs of her chair. She trotted over to Rarity and had a hoof on her withers before either of the Crusaders could so much as absorb the new information. “Rarity, this ain’t your fault,” Applejack insisted. Rarity quickly dispelled a wayward tear with a wipe of her hoof. “I…I want to believe that, but…what…what if…what if I did this to her…just by using magic around her…? If she was somehow more susceptible to the condition—“ “Now yer just speculatin’ ahead of the evidence,” Applejack replied quickly. “I read the paperwork from the hospital too, and ain’t nopony knows if being ‘more susceptible’ means anythin’, or if it’s just another theory. If it were that simple, then every single unicorn in Equestria would end up like this just from bein’ around their own kin long enough. Celestia only knows what would happen to ponies like Twilight, who cast complicated magic spells nearly every day, or to foals in magic kindergarten classes.” Rarity’s voice became ghostly thin, “…b-but what if I did do this to her…? What if this is all my fault…?” Applejack began to stroke her friend’s downy-soft coat with a hoof. “It ain’t your fault,” She repeated. “You can’t think that way. It won’t do you no good, and it won’t do Sweetie Belle no good neither.” “I know, but…but…” Rarity’s lip quivered. Applejack gently slipped her forelegs around her friend and took her in a firm embrace, angling Rarity’s chin onto her shoulder. Rarity’s blubbering matched the shudders Applejack felt under her stroking hoof. “Shh…it’s alright Sugarcube,” Applejack cooed, adding in the nickname she reserved for foals, “It’s gonna be alright…you gotta believe that…” Both Cutie Mark Crusaders politely averted their attention to the remainder of their beverages. Each one busied themselves with a long sip, but the silence, coupled with light sobbing from the room’s only unicorn, quickly became too much for the room’s only Pegasus. “Sweetie Belle’s gonna get better…isn’t she?” “A’course she is,” Applejack insisted. Rarity, still facing away from the Crusaders and lost in her friend’s embrace, shook her head and lightly batted Applejack’s chest with a hoof. “…don’t lie to them dear. Please,” Rarity said weakly, “…we’ve already hidden too much from Sweetie Belle’s best friends.” Applejack berated herself mentally for the deliberately misleading statement. She sighed, and replied again. “…we dunno, girls.” Applejack felt a wetness on her cheeks. She was not a pony given easily to open shows of sorrow, but when her eyes settled on Apple Bloom, she considered what things might be like if she were the afflicted filly. The image sliced through Applejack’s rough exterior like a hot knife through butter, creating a thin wound where visible despair began to leak out. Apple Bloom glanced at her young friend, only to find the Pegasus frozen in shock. Apple Bloom nearly joined her, but a sliver of Apple family tenacity drove her on. “Is that why she told us she ain’t a Cutie Mark Crusader no more?” Applejack wasn’t certain how to reply. Sensing the hesitation, Rarity sniffed sharply and pulled away from her friend’s embrace, patting her gently on the shoulder and favoring her with an appreciative look before turning to the fillies. Her mascara was running, but she didn’t seem the least big ashamed of it. “As I’ve said darlings, I cannot speak for her. However, I doubt her illness alone is the reason she would say such a thing.” She blinked hard several times, beating the feelings back down, and elaborated- “The type of chemomancy Sweetie Belle is receiving is designed to attack the cancerous cells, but one major flaw of it is that it cannot easily differentiate between those cells and the cells that make up the follicles of her hair. I suspect the reason she does not want to see the both of you is because she’s feeling self-conscious about her appearance. “How bad is it…?” Apple Bloom galloped hard against the gravity of the situation and continued her questioning. “Most of her tail is gone,” Rarity explained, “and her mane is…very, very thin. Furthermore, she has bare patches throughout her body where sections of her coat have fallen out.” The Crusaders shared another look. Each of their eyes then slipped down to a view of the other’s cutie mark. Rarity didn’t wait for them to ask the inevitable question. “The magic of your cutie mark is more than skin deep, darlings, but the physical mark is not. If you were to shave your flank completely bare, the mark would still grow back, and what it represents would still be a part of who you are, but visually it would nonetheless be…gone.” The Crusader’s questions ceased. There was no room for misinterpretation of the latest information. The two young ponies simply locked eyes and stared blankly at one another, communicating their feelings wordlessly while each young mind tried to interpret the monumental implications. Their thoughts became so turbulent that even weeping became beyond their ability to process mentally. “I-I’m sorry,” Rarity suddenly pulled away and trotted for the door, “I…I just can’t…talk about this anymore. All of you are welcome to stay as long as you like. Please make yourselves at home. I…I…” She struggled for words. As she vanished from the room, she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind and bowed hastily. “H-Happy Hearth’s Warming.” The three remaining ponies sat in a stunned silence, broken up only by the ticking of a clock and the incessant sounds of caroling from down another street. Applejack returned to the table and retrieved her hat, tugging her scarf tighter around her neck with her teeth. “I guess we better get goin’,” She commented. “I’m sorry girls. But y’all were right. It wasn’t right to try to protect you both from this. And for what it’s worth Apple Bloom,” She turned to her sister, weary bags of puffy red forming under her eyes, “I’d have made the same scene you did out on the street earlier, if I had been in your boots. I’m sorry.” Apple Bloom blinked hard. “Sweetie Belle’s gonna die, ain’t she.” Applejack shook her head, “I’d be lyin’ if I said I could answer that fer sure. But a fifty percent chance of not makin’ it ain’t no more or less a guarantee than a fifty percent chance of makin’ it. Listen—” Somehow, she managed the tiniest hint of a reassuring smile, “The both of you…you gotta believe. If y’all dwell on the worst and let it consume you, then the worst is just what’ll happen.” She thought about it, and then offered a curious quip, “Apple Bloom, did I ever tell you the story of your great uncle Orange Pekoe?” Apple Bloom was thrown off by the odd inquiry. She cradled her mug between her hooves and shook her head, “Don’t think so. Why?” Reunited again with her Stetson, Applejack laid a hoof on the table and watched the light snowfall. “Orange Pekoe was a delivery pony for a grocer in the big city. He used to pull a big covered cart – so big that you could get inside it and walk around. That cart had a special enchantment on it to keep it cold inside, so he could transport perishable foods over longer distances.” She took a breath and continued, “One day, he accidentally got locked inside his own cart. And he froze to death.” Apple Bloom shivered at the grisly story, but offered no comment. She wasn’t sure what value the tale had in the current situation, but her big sister didn’t leave her in the dark for long. “Thing is – it was only about forty-five degrees inside his cart that day. Just enough to keep the vegetables he was carryin’ from one city to the next from spoiling.” “Huh?” Scootaloo raised a brow. “How is that possible? That’s not cold enough to freeze you.” “No it ain’t,” Applejack agreed. “But you see, Orange Pekoe was about the stubbornest pony who was ever kin of ours, and in the Apple family that’s sayin’ something. You’d think that’d mean nothing would ever kill him, but when he convinced himself of somethin’, there just wasn’t ever any way to talk him out of it. And the one thing he used to tell his family that he was afraid of was someday getting locked in his cart and freezing to death.” She finally turned to look at the fillies, her stare grave, “He believed he was gonna die. So he died. The moral is, if you believe strong enough in somethin’ – and I mean so strong you ain’t got even the slightest notion of doubt – then you can usually find a way to make it happen.” She paused. Let the words sink in. Finally, she offered the fillies a smile of appreciation. “I gotta say, I’m real proud of the both of you. Y’all are takin’ this better than anypony could have expected, and if there were any two ponies out there that could believe in something strong enough to change the world, I think it would be you two.” Scootaloo battled through a sharp sniffle, “B-but it doesn’t matter what we believe…Sweetie Belle has to believe in it.” Apple Bloom’s hoof came down on the table so hard she nearly spilled her drink. Emulating her sister, she shoved her way out of the chair to the tune of a loud scraping noise and stood tall on her hooves. “Then there’s only one thing we can do,” She announced. “We gotta get in there to see her.” “What good will that really do, though?” Scootaloo asked, despair gnawing at her thoughts and conjuring up the pessimistic statement. “If she doesn’t wanna see us—“ “Then we gotta make her wanna see us,” Apple Bloom insisted. “We gotta get her to open that door, no matter what it takes. Think about it. If it were you sittin’ in there, all alone and hurting, what would you be thinkin’ about?” Scootaloo shrugged, “I’d…probably be wondering when I’m gonna die.” “Exactly!” Apple Bloom blurted. “And if she keeps thinkin’ that way, then that’s exactly what’s gonna happen. We gotta make her believe that she’s gonna be okay, and I’ll tell ya plain,” Apple Bloom’s confidence set the room on fire, “We’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders! We all go home or nopony goes home, and I ain’t goin’ home until Sweetie Belle knows she’s gonna be okay!” “Woah there,” Applejack cautioned, “It’s good you wanna help, but you two can’t just buck down her door. You gotta respect her space.” “Then how do we get in?” Scootaloo asked. Apple Bloom hooked her foreleg around one of Scootaloo’s and yanked the pegasus abruptly to her hooves. “I know exactly how we’re getting in there. But we gotta do it together. You in?” Scootaloo wiped away a tear and broke into a squirmy smile. “W-wild windigoes and a hungry dragon couldn’t stop me.” “Cutie Mark Crusaders forever!!” Apple Bloom cried, holding out her foreleg, “Hoof bump!” Scootaloo returned the declaration and the gesture, and the two of them were out of the room before Applejack could repeat her warning against doing anything rash. The elder Apple sister sat alone in the kitchen, staring down at her empty mug. She watched as a single tear plopped down into it. She wiped her cheek, but paused as she touched her own lips, turning to a mirror to confirm what she was feeling. A smile sat firmly on her lips. “The last pony in Equestria who’d ever give up at something is you, little sister,” Applejack whispered. “I’d put your spirit before anypony I know. Including myself.” She rose, sat her cup down, and went to find Rarity.
We Three CrusadersApplejack’s quest ended the moment she stepped out of the kitchen into the Carousel Boutique’s ample showroom. Despite her relationship with the owner and her familiarity with large barns, Applejack had historically never felt comfortable in the large round chamber that accounted for most of the first floor. The luxurious sangria curtains that cordoned off the fitting areas were as jarring to her as the mauve diamond pattern on the ceiling, and the number of mirrors made her feel as though she was being constantly watched. Regardless of her trepidations, however, Applejack’s appreciation for Rarity’s unique sense of style made her come to see the boutique as a cozy, lavish suite in a five star hotel over time. Rarity had moved eight of the mannequins to the small round stage, half-surrounded by mirrors, that her clients used to model her creations. The crowded assemblage of faux-ponies had no eyes to appreciate Rarity’s work, but the dedicated fashionista toiled away, using the increased perspective from the mirrors to arrange and rearrange the crudely crocheted caps on all of their canvas heads. “No, not like that…” Rarity muttered, adjusting one cap slightly off center while swapping two others with her magic, “…perhaps a little to the left…oh yes that’s quite fetching…” Applejack took note of the fact that there was no trace of the recently destroyed caps. The bare heads of the victim mannequins had already been covered with new caps, in shades so similar to one another that they strayed outside Applejack’s spectrum of color recognition. Rarity was humming a spirited tune as if nothing were amiss. Applejack approached the stage and stopped on the floor beneath it, silently appreciating the mannequins in the mirror before daring to speak. “…you alright?” “You know I’m not alright, dear,” Rarity said bluntly, her eyes never coming off her work. “But this is how I cope. Tell me you wouldn’t be out bucking apple trees right now if you were in my position.” Applejack couldn’t argue the point. Thrown off by the ease with which Rarity admitted her distress, she spoke awkwardly, searching for anything useful to say. “I’m sorry for what I said about all these caps before. I guess they’re not really so—” Rarity held up a foreleg. “No, no. Every single one of them, from a high fashion standpoint, is positively hideous. Everything you said about them is correct, and I won’t have you compromising your honesty now just to save my feelings. Because I know that’s what you’re doing.” Applejack scratched her forehead, adjusted her hat, and began staring uncomfortably around the room. Rarity remained silent for a full minute, shuffling around the caps obsessively, until she finally gave voice to her thoughts- “I suppose I don’t need to explain these hats, do I.” “…I suppose ya don’t.” Applejack put her attention on her friend again. Standing on the slightly elevated platform, Rarity was on her hind legs, with her forelegs planted on the flank of one of the mannequins. Her red cheaters were back on her muzzle, and she had a length of measuring tape loosely wrapped around her neck. Applejack couldn’t quite fathom what use either accessory was at that moment beyond mood-induction, but it was obvious that Rarity’s activity was little more than busy work. Applejack stepped up onto the platform and laid a hoof gently on Rarity’s shoulder from behind. “You’re a great sister,” Applejack stated. “Prolly the most devoted one I ever met. You can say anything you want about feelin’ like you ain’t done enough for Sweetie Belle, but I bet you’ve spent hours and hours this month standing here makin’ ugly hats in colors and styles only a filly would like, using a technique you don’t even like, because you want your sister to feel beautiful again.” Rarity stiffened. Applejack backpeddled, instantly regretting the one extra word. “I…I didn’t mean ‘again’…I mean she’s beautiful now, just…” Rarity spun a levitated orange cap around slowly in the air, examining it. “It’s alright. This is just…all I can do for her. Make her feel comfortable, and try to make her feel pretty.” Applejack made a face, “There’s a lot more to beauty than how your mane or tail looks. Even I know that.” “That may be so,” Rarity nodded, “But it doesn’t make us covet our appearances any less. Some of us are not so narcissistic as others, but that begs the question-” Finally she turned her head, catching Applejack’s face only out of the corner of her eye, “Would it not be easier for you if you simply shaved your mane off? Your head would be a lot cooler while you’re working, and you wouldn’t have all that extra hair getting in your way, no?” Applejack glanced down at her long, lush blonde locks and the single tie that held them. “W-well I…” “But you wouldn’t do that, would you,” Rarity filled in the blanks. “Because one some level, you want to feel pretty. You want to feel like a mare, or at the very least, you want a subtle way to convey your uniqueness to your world of strong-backed stallions that labor in fields. Applejack blushed slightly and looked away. “…somethin’ like that.” Rarity adjusted her glasses and sat the cap back on its perch, turning fully to her friend. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be harsh. You’re absolutely right – beauty is far more than skin deep. I simply meant that even knowing that, some ponies still want to…feel pretty.” She stepped off the platform and moved into the center of the room, her gait and lack of immediacy suggesting she had no destination in mind. Left on the platform and surrounded by mirrors, Applejack favored her attractive mane and tail with a tiny appreciative glance, and again looked for something to say. “Did you see the girls go through here a minute ago?” “Hm?” Rarity replied, “Oh yes, they asked me for some supplies I don’t keep down here. I believe they were headed for my room upstairs.” “Supplies?” Applejack repeated, “What’d they say they were up to? You sure you’re okay with them rooting around in your stuff?” “…if they can her to come out of her room I’d be okay with anything…” Rarity muttered. “Hm? Say again?” “O-oh, nothing dear,” Rarity adopted a more spirited look, “But you’re only half right in what you think you know about the origin of all these caps.” She hesitated, “Would you…like to know the rest?” Applejack nodded dumbly, “Sure?” Rarity found her way over to her fainting couch. Shunning its normal purpose, she sat down comfortably upon it and took a moment to situate herself. “Do you recall the opening of Rarity for You in Manehattan?” Applejack welcomed a chuckle, “Sure do. Hard to forget somethin’ like that. Real humdinger of a party when it all came together though.” “It was quite the soiree, wasn’t it?” Rarity agreed. Her smile vanished as quickly as it came. “A week after that, I took another short trip to Manehattan. It was only for the day, and my goal was merely to make certain everything was well stocked and operating correctly in the short term. It was…” she glanced upwards at nothing, “…around seven in the morning on a Tuesday. Not a particularly productive time for fashion sales, but since I was there anyway, I opened the shop. Only one customer came in - an old Neighponese stallion. He was knobbier in the knees than bent further over than ever I’ve seen an old stallion before, and he had a heavy knit scarf around his neck.” “A scarf?” Applejack interrupted, “Wasn’t that still summertime?” “It was. He claimed, however, that his ‘old bones are always chilly these days’. He was a delightfully friendly fellow with a sharp wit, but it turned out my only customer of the morning wasn’t actually a customer of mine at all - he was looking for a repair service for the scarf, and had wandered into the wrong shop. He said it was something his late wife had knitted for him when they were still dating, which he claimed was ‘long before you were born, young filly’.” Applejack smiled warmly. “That’s sweet. I bet it was pretty rustic lookin’.” “That doesn’t begin to describe it,” Rarity returned the smile. “He was indeed in the wrong place, but he was such a friendly sort - how could I turn him away?” “Generous to a fault,” Applejack chided. “I examined the scarf and knew I could fix it, so I set to the repairs right then and there. He spoke something of its history as I worked - told me tales about it’s travels to nearly every city in Equestria, and some beyond. He and his wife met sixty-seven years ago, though she had been dead for nearly eight.” Applejack whistled, “Whew. If any of us could say we found love fer that long. That’s a fine thing.” Rarity’s smile disappeared again. “He was an…amazing stallion, in my opinion. I never once saw him without a smile on his face, even though three months prior to the day I spoke to him he had lost his daughter also. She succumbed to, of all things…cancer. The same cancer Sweetie Belle has.” Applejack quieted. Rarity went on. “He was saddened by the loss of course, and the fact that he ended up outliving his own child, but he took comfort in the belief that we all return to the stars when our time comes. He was lonely, but he was happy that his loved ones had lived good lives.” Rarity paused for a solid minute, idly examining her hooves. “He had made peace by the time I met him, but he told me how it felt to watch his daughter fade away, when he, her father, was powerless to stop it. He told me of an ancient Neighponese legend. It claims that if a pony can fold one thousand origami paper cranes, that pony will be granted a miracle.” “A miracle?” Applejack looked skeptical, and then snorted. “Well, that ain’t something I would ever be able to prove. I can’t do artsy stuff like that.” Rarity shook her head, “According to him, it’s less a question of the object being created as it is devotion to the task. The idea that anypony who can fold one thousand paper cranes is not only capable of accomplishing anything, but worthy of whatever wish they might make.” Applejack put two and two together, “But, his daughter died, right?” Rarity nodded soberly. “He failed. When she passed away he had only completed eight hundred and forty-seven of them.” “Eight hundred and…paper cranes?” Applejack looked amazed, “Those little things? Was he a unicorn?” “No,” Rarity replied simply, “he was an earth pony.” Applejack glanced at her hooves. They were fine tools for running, bucking, digging, and many other pursuits, but she couldn’t fathom how an earth pony, despite her tribe’s natural tenacity, could fold even one tiny, delicate, origami crane. “I fixed his scarf,” Rarity smiled wanly. “He offered to pay me. I wouldn’t take it of course. He went out into the morning with a tune on his lips and I never saw him again.” “Do you think he really folded eight hundred and forty-seven paper cranes by himself?” Rarity shrugged. “Who knows, darling? Even with my magic and my skill with small details, I doubt I could accomplish a feat like that. I’m not much for working with paper, I’m afraid.” Applejack stood there until a spark flickered to full flame in her mind. Her eyes opened wide, realization setting in. “The caps…” “I’ve made fifty-two so far,” Rarity answered the unasked question. “Minus the few casualties of my outburst earlier.” Her voice began to crack, and her pauses lengthened. When she smiled again, the gesture was helpless, coupled with a peaking of her eyebrows in the center of her forehead. “If one thousand folded pieces of pretty paper can grant a miracle…can you imagine what a thousand garish, fully-functional crocheted caps can accomplish?” Applejack didn’t know what to say. The image of her friend sitting alone, knitting caps in despair while she was out having a good time with thoughts of presents and seven-layer bean dip filled her with pity and shame. Uncertain what do to, she walked over to the couch and clicked her heels, coming to a measure of military attention and puffing out her chest. “I can’t sew,” Applejack admitted, “Or knit. Or crochet. But so help me I’ll try. O-or maybe we could get Twilight to—” “That would be cheating, dear,” Rarity’s wan expression never changed. “Even though I’m unaware of any rules pertaining to the task, I’m sure the powers that be would consider any magic beyond what I would use to hold the yarn and the hooks as a violation of the spirit behind it.” She dipped her head. “I have to do this myself. Much like that old Neighponese stallion, this is...all I can do, for her.” Applejack deflated. She sat lightly on the couch, and for a time, the two friends watched the snow fall under the canopy of Luna’s grace that gave birth to the moon. The carolers were closer, such that Applejack couldn’t help but lightly hum a few bars of ‘It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Hearth’s Warming.’ Rarity took up the melody, and the both of them sat there, softly humming out the song without words. When they emerged from their reverie, Applejack glanced at the nearby clock. She rose, knowing that her attempt had been made - there was nothing she could do at this point but leave. “We’ve been in your way long enough. I’ll go round up the fillies. You…take care, okay? You an’ Sweetie Belle both. If there anything…and I mean anything I can do—” “Rarity?” A small voice descended angelically from above, emitting a single word that solidified all the air in the room until it was nearly tangible. In Rarity’s current state of self-loathing the sound of her name meant nothing, but the voice speaking it shot her up to instant high alert. She stood straight up on the couch and gaped like a minnow drowning in oxygen towards the stairs. There, standing on her own but closely flanked by her two best friends, stood Sweetie Belle. Unfettered by the heavy olive-drab blanket she was always enshrouded in during Rarity’s visits to her room, the elder sibling was finally able to survey the entirety of the damage inflicted by the younger’s ‘treatment’. Sweetie Belle’s lovely tail was little more than a feather duster-sized stump wiggling at her backside. She was not skin and bone, but it was plainly obvious she had lost weight, and her pallor was pale even despite her natural coloring. Her body was marred by blotches of the dark flesh beneath that gave her white coat hairs their natural gray tinge, making her look like she had been rolling in chimney soot. Her left cutie mark had a large gash of missing hair straight through the middle of it, while the right one had been reduced to little more than a collection of unrecognizable colored fuzz. Healthy foals always had a look of blooming towards their ultimate goal of adulthood. This one looked as though she was wilting. Atop Sweetie Belle’s head was one of the raggy winter caps. It matched the primary color of her mane, but there was no mane whatsoever spilling out from underneath it. She smiled weakly, thick bags under her gray-green eyes, and said simply- “I…really like it, Rarity. Thanks for making it for me.” Frozen in place, Rarity held a hoof over her mouth to steel her response. Applejack wasn’t so well prepared. A gasp escaped her lips; the sound intensifying when her eyes trailed over to Sweetie Belle’s companions. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were each wearing one of the sloppy crocheted caps. Apple Bloom’s bow was tied around the base of her tail, and much like their ill companion, neither of the two healthy Crusaders had even a single strand of their beautiful manes poking out from under their headgear. “Sugarcube, what…” Applejack felt a shiver run through her. “What did you do…?” Withholding an immediate answer, the two flanking Crusaders took to helping their companion slowly manage the stairs. Both of the adults were too stunned to react, and could do little but watch the three fillies descend from the heavens, until the last pair of their hooves reached the bottom floor of the boutique. Applejack was now in a position to view Sweetie Belle’s flank. She managed to bite back the gasp this time, but shock wrapped itself around her synapses and climbed back into her brain when the rest of the scene was revealed to her. Where Apple Bloom’s cutie mark should have been, there was nothing but a blotch of completely shaven, slightly pink flesh. Noticing her big sister’s stare, Apple Bloom showed no fear – she spun slowly in place, revealing the matching shaved spot on the other side of her body. Scootaloo did the same, until it was beyond the shadow of a doubt what the crusaders had done to themselves. “B-but…you…I…” Applejack had no words. Her lower lip felt like concrete, and she forced herself to wet her whistle before she dared speak again. “…why? Y’all…cutie marks mean everything to y’all…” Apple Bloom’s smile was soft, honest, and beautiful. She replied easily. “We’re all Cutie Mark Crusaders, or ain’t none of us Cutie Mark Crusaders.” Scootaloo elaborated- “Until Sweetie Belle gets her cutie mark back, neither one of us are going to have ours. We don’t want them if we can’t all have them together.” She went slightly cross-eyed staring up at her own head. “Same with our manes.” “Besides,” Apple Bloom grinned, inclining her head as well, “Washin’ my mane is kind of a pain in the rump anyhow.” Rarity had separated herself from her perch on the couch. She was standing before her little sister, and her lips were moving…but no words emitted from her. She reached out as if to touch Sweetie Belle’s cheek, retracted the limb before making contact, reached instead for her shoulder, and again failed - it was as if she was afraid of breaking the little filly with so much as a touch. Sweetie Belle winced, misinterpreting, “Rarity, uh…I’m…” She swallowed, “…sorry I’m not pretty anymore.” Rarity mouthed the word ‘pretty’ twice. She placed a hoof over her mouth again, trying to still the gyrations of her lips, but the torrent of raw emotion she had kept at bay was smashing against her mind so hard that she could feel it slamming into the back of her eyes. One tear slipped through – it ran down a worn, well-used track in her cheek and pooled where her wrist met her chin. “You…you’re standing up…” Sweetie Belle looked oblivious. “Yeah?” “You’re…out of your room…” Sweetie Belle blinked. “I…I guess so?” “…you smiled at me…” “I-I’m sorry—“ The ill crusader never managed to get the rest of the apology out. Rarity was on her knees, her forelegs wrapped around her sister so tightly that it seemed her life depended on it. Maybe it did. Rarity peppered Sweetie Belle’s beleaguered brow with butterfly kisses. “Oh darling…oh my sister…” She blubbered, “…how could you ever say that…pretty…what’s pretty…” She buried her face in Sweetie Belle’s cap, her shoulders and chest heaving with the sobs that would no longer be denied. “…of course you’re pretty…you’re the most beautiful sight to ever grace my life…I’d burn every scrap of fabric in this building and never touch a sewing needle again in my life, so help me Celestia, just to see you smile like that again…there’s no gemstone that shines like you…no couture that could ever compare…” Sweetie Belle, overcome with sniffles of her own, only stood there. She bowed her head slightly, closing her eyes and smiling a sweet, serene smile as her sister bathed her in tears. Their horns both sprang to life with a soft glow – emerald and sapphire lights that danced affectionately around one another in the still air. “I’m sorry…” Sweetie Belle muttered, “…for almost giving up.” “I-I’m sorry too,” Rarity whimpered, “…for the same.” Applejack motioned to the remaining crusaders. When they were by her side Apple Bloom opened her mouth to address the unicorns, but Applejack held up a silencing hoof. “Shush,” She commanded gently. “They need this. Let ‘em have it.” Applejack walked her two young charges to the window, where the three of them politely watched the snow fall. Applejack wrapped a foreleg around each of their necks and held them close. “…I’m dern proud of y’all,” She said simply. “Both of you.” “You’d never have let me do it if I asked first,” Apple Bloom said, her tone without malice. Applejack shook her head honestly. “Nope. I wouldn’t have.” “...we had to do this,” Apple Bloom commented. “We had to get her out of there. She was drownin’ in there, an’ she needed us. I know you understand, Sis." “Applejack…” Scootaloo meeped, “Don’t be mad at Apple Bloom.” Applejack said nothing. For a time there was silence save for the conversation between the reuniting unicorns, but Apple Bloom jarred back to life when something wet stuck the back of her bare neck. She looked up, and there stood her big sister. The most stoic, steadfast, reliable pony she had ever known. Crying like a foal. Apple Bloom smiled carefully. “I thought you told your friends you only cry on the inside.” Applejack retracted her foreleg and gently nudged her sister’s cheek with the tip of her hoof, her tears flowing without shame. “Heh…dernit…you just shush and gimmie my moment too…” Scootaloo was looking back at her own flank. “I can’t believe we really did this.” “Me either,” Apple Bloom grinned, “I wanted a cutie mark for so long, and I know it ain’t really gone, but…don’t it feel good?” The young Pegasus smiled broadly. “…I think I might feel even better than I did when I got my cutie mark.” Apple Bloom shook her head simply to feel the odd sensation of no mane brushing her neck. “Guess we need to wear our scarves out in the cold even more than ever, huh?” The two Crusaders shared a moment of lighthearted laughter. Applejack stepped back from them to rub her eyes, and nearly trod over Sweetie Belle in the process. The filly’s reflection in the window became evident when Applejack stepped out of the way, and all eyes fell upon her. “I’m really sorry,” Sweetie Belle began again, this time to her friends. Apple Bloom spoke right up, “Y’all don’t have nothing to be sor—” “Maybe not,” Sweetie Bell cut her friend off, “but I’m sorry anyway. Sorry I said that I didn’t want to see any of you. The truth is, I’m…really scared. It hurts, down deep inside me...and I didn’t want you all to see that. But you’re all my friends, and...I can’t do this without you. I know that now.” Applejack gained a measure of control over her emotions and summoned the openly weeping Rarity with one foreleg. The two adults shared an embrace. “Ain’t a pony worth a thing without friends,” Applejack contributed to the Crusaders’ conversation from over Rarity’s shoulder. Sweetie Belle began to look dizzy. Apple Bloom was by her side in the flash of a second, but Sweetie Belle shook her head, waving her friend off. “I…wanna stand up on my own.” Scootaloo approached from Sweetie Belle’s other side. She shared a knowing look with Apple Bloom, and the two fillies gently pinched their friend between their flanks, supporting her in a more passive way. Sweetie Belle favored each of them with a look of appreciation, and continued her confession- “After I told you both to go away the first time, I thought to myself, if I died tomorrow...who would come to my funeral?” Applejack looked grim. She stroked Rarity’s back and wanted to dismiss the pessimistic turn the conversation had taken, but found that she had no stomach for chastising the afflicted little filly. “A-and I realized,” Sweetie Belle turned to Apple Bloom, “That you would be there. And you-” She nodded to Scootaloo, and then turned to the adults. “And you Rarity, and you Applejack…and a bunch of other ponies too. And then I realized how much I’m cared about, and how silly I was being for wanting to keep everything to myself...but I was still scared. I didn’t know what to say to anypony.” “You told us you weren’t a crusader anymore,” Scootaloo said. “But if you’re not, then we’re not either.” “We’re gonna be by your side every single minute till you get better,” Apple Bloom announced. “You’re gonna beat this, ya hear? And then we’ll all be back together, better than ever!” Sweetie Belle held her hoof out. Each crusader laid their own atop it. “Cutie Mark Crusaders FOREVER!!” The trio announced in unison. As the disheveled crusaders made merry, Applejack took Rarity aside. She nodded at the empty tree skirt on the floor. “First thing in the morning I’m bringin’ you the finest evergreen anypony in this town ever saw, cut ‘n ready. And I ain’t takin’ no for an answer so don’t even try.” Rarity, her lenses and measuring tape discarded, wiped her eyes on the back of her hoof and glanced into a mirror, as though she hadn’t seen her own reflection in weeks. “Goodness,” She said through a rattling chuckle, “I look positively dreadful.” “Yep,” Applejack replied bluntly. “Like you’ve been to Tartarus and back.” She stood beside her friend in the mirror. “But ya did come back.” Rarity turned her attention to the fillies, who were still standing by the window, chatting as they marveled at the illustrious blanket of snowy night. “I can’t give in to despair anymore. I won’t.” She sniffed once, “Look at me. I’m not even the one who’s sick. My little sister needs me.” “That’s right, she needs you,” Applejack agreed, touching Rarity’s chest to drive home the point. “Not winter caps, and not miracles. She needs you to be the best you y’ever done been. Rarity’s eyes began to shine the way they did when inspiration was knocking at her door. “If she can smile, so can I.” Applejack looked hopeful, “No more talkin’ about if she might die?” Rarity shook her head defiantly. “From now on, it’s going to be about when she gets better. We’ll strut down every runway when we come to it. Together.” A sudden pounding at the door, followed by a muffled voice, commanded the room’s attention. “Hey! You guys in there?” “We’re havin’ a cup of cheer, Dash!” Applejack called merrily. “Sorry but it ain’t cider!” Rainbow Dash appeared in the doorway, shaking the freshly fallen snow out of her boots. “Huh? How’s every…pony…” She trailed off when she noticed the crusaders, all of the crusaders, fixing her with broad grins. Scootaloo trotted over, bright as a torch...with a cap on her head, no mane, and a blank space where each of her cutie marks used to be. “Hey Rainbow Dash!” She greeted. “Did you get the sleigh ready?” “Sleigh?” Sweetie Belle brightened. “Are we going for a sleigh ride?” “Better’n just a sleigh ride,” Apple Bloom chimed in, “A sleigh ride in the sky!” “Can I go!?” A spring returned to Sweetie Belle’s step, and she managed to close the distance to her sister with renewed vigor. “Please? I’ll bundle up, I promise!” Applejack turned to Rarity. “That alright with you?” Rarity weighed the consequences. Considered the cold. Bit her lip. Finally she looked at Dash. “A short flight, yes?” The crusaders let out a communal whoop - as they frolicked in victory, Dash was left gaping, stupefied at the physical condition of all three. She regarded them with the hard stare of a pony who was on the brink of failing to solve a Rubik’s Cube. “What…happened here?” Rarity’s smile was characteristically suave. “Oh, nothing darling. Just a little impromptu gathering to celebrate that tomorrow’s a brand new day!” Dash ended up ruffling Scootaloo’s cap as the filly sought to scamper by. “Hey little buddy, um…what’s up with your mane? And your cutie mark? Are you okay?” Despite the apparent abnormalities, Scootaloo was beaming with a warmth Dash hadn’t seen in over a month. She reached out and affectionately punched Dash’s shoulder. “I’m better than okay. We all are.” She grinned mischievously, “You wanna shave!?” Dash chuckled nervously and let the filly go. “That’s, eh heh…that’s alright.” As the fillies frolicked, Dash approached the adults with her ears down. Whenever her eyes strayed to Rarity, they immediately diverted away. “Rarity, uh, I’m…sorry I haven’t been around. I just-” Rarity reached out and touched Dash’s lips with a hoof. “Darling, please. It’s Hearth’s Warming. Thank you for coming.” Applejack could see the embarrassment and uncertainly on Rainbow Dash’s face. All her bluster, all her pride...the champion flyer clearly wanted so badly to comfort her friend, but she was uncertain what to say or do, so she had kept her distance. Applejack would not let Dash’s apprehension regress into the fear that was compromising her sense of loyalty. She came up next to the pegasus and slapped her withers gently. “Dash here’s been workin’ on that new sleigh she got for weeks now, and its kept her busy! I hear it’s smoother than six-hour churned applebutter cuttin’ through the sky.” She smiled reassuringly at Dash, “Ain’t that right?” Dash flashed her friend an instantaneous look of appreciation before her grin split into something more daring. “You bet it’s right!” She exclaimed, speaking loud enough for the fillies to hear. “You guys are gonna wanna create an airborne division for the Cutie Mark Crusaders after tonight!” A chorus of yays and excited squealing bled into the sound of voices from outside. Everypony exchanged momentary confused glances, but one by one their trained ears tuned in on the sound, and each face lit up with holiday cheer. Dash made it to the door first. There in the snow stood no less than twenty denizens of Ponyville. Decked out in top hats, holly-bough hair ornaments, and various cozy looking scarves or coats, the group was made up of ponies of all ages, voices raised in constant song as they went between the various homes and businesses to share Hearth’s Warming cheer. Everypony in Ponyville knew of the tradition – for the final week leading up to Hearth’s Warming, the caroling group was as constant as the flame that burned throughout the Equestria Games. Ponies continually joined and left, the whole town pitching in to keep it going. They sang- “O, rest ye, merry gentlecolts Let nothing you dismay, Remember that togetherness Keeps windigos at bay. We’ll save ourselves from icy pow’r, In fertile fields we’ll lay- O-oh tidings of Hearth’s Warming joy Hearth’s Warming joy! O-oh tidings of Hearth’s Warming joy!” The Cutie Mark Crusaders stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the doorway of the boutique, each one backed by her literal or figurative big sister. “I’m dern proud of you,” Applejack squeezed Apple Bloom’s shoulder. “Your friends are luckier than an intact snake after a wagon race just to have you.” Apple Bloom beamed. “I got good role models, that’s all.” Rainbow Dash tapped Scootaloo’s withers to the beat. “I dunno what you did here little buddy, but I’m taking you on a private, one-Wonderbolt-powered flight tomorrow, and I can’t wait for you to tell me all about it!” “Really?” Scootaloo beamed, “Can we go fast?” Dash made a clucking noise with her cheek. “Tch, are you kidding? We’re already there and back, your eyes just haven’t caught up yet!” Scootaloo shut her eyes tightly and giggled, “Awesome!” Rarity was gently stroking the back of Sweetie Belle’s bare neck just above her scarf, in a place she knew used to soothe her sister as an infant. “Things are going to be different, dear. Tomorrow we’re going to make the boutique the most seasonably fashionable locale in the whole town. And then we’re going caroling, and we’re going to buy the biggest, most beautiful carrot cake from Sugarcube Corner that bits can buy.” Sweetie Belle blushed, her voice small. “I’m sorry I tried to push everypony away. I know you care.” “We-I love you, darling,” Rarity replied. “With every piece of my heart. You have a beauty that outshines the stars themselves. You must never forget that, and I will be by your side every day to remind you.” Sweetie Belle leaned back into her elder sister, appreciating her familiar scent and warmth. “…thanks, Sis. I love you too.” Behind the carolers, flickering in the glow of warm lamplight, a streamlined sled with lightning bolts painted on the sides patiently waited. A high moon and starlight sky twinkled down on a Ponyville that was slightly brighter than it had been just hours before. Three friends were whole again. Together they shared the magic of friendship. A magic that can accomplish anything - if only you believe.
Blue Without YouThere were six more days until Hearth's Warming. In Ponyville, the bitter winds and barren branches of winter were held at bay by the seasonal tidings of joy that seemed to flow forth from the land itself - infusing every rock, tree, and pony with a glowing warmth that no squall, even that from the ancient windigos, could ever hope to stamp out. The tolling of silver bells rang eagerly in the hearts of anticipating foals, and each evergreen bough glistened with all the pomp and circumstance of rich Equestrian history. Not a single quaint cottage door was bereft of a festive wreath, and boughs of holly lay in neat arrangements over every sleeping flowerbox. On an inconsequential street corner, a quartet of ponies stood under a canopy of lights strung from one roof to another. Wrapped securely in woolen scarves and winter finery, they bade good afternoon to a score of wandering carolers with whom they had just shared an impromptu tune. Applejack turned her muzzle to the sky and drew in a deep breath. She let it out audibly, and on its cusp she emitted a contented sigh. “Hoo-wee!” She exclaimed, stamping her hooves in appreciation, “Y’all smell that? That there’s the pick of the harvest baking in that pie!” Rainbow Dash, her hooves clad in stiff booties bearing her mark, tasted the breeze in turn. She couldn’t help a sigh of her own, but her eyebrow cocked up wryly. “Eh, I dunno. I mean that’s totally the best apple pie I’ve smelled all day, but how do you know those are your apples in it?” Apple Bloom snorted so loudly that she drew all attention to herself. The deep magenta of the large bow that always kept her mane in check was accented nicely by the scarf that was double-wrapped around her neck. “Tch, are you kiddin’? My sister never forgets an apple. If she says it’s one of ours? It’s one of ours. There ain’t no room for argument.” Rounding out the quartet was Scootaloo, who’s cap and scarf also perfectly accented the cerise shock of her mane and tail. Her expression mirrored her mentor’s exactly, and she offered her two bits- “Oh come on Apple Bloom, no she can’t.” Realizing her friend’s elder sister was standing right there, she glanced up at Applejack with a sheepish grin. “I mean, no offense or anything. Just there have to have been what? Hundreds of thousands of apples that you’ve picked in your life? And you can remember all of them?” Applejack huffed, turning her muzzle up in a haughty gesture better suited for the Canterlot elite. “By size, color, texture, and scent. Sure as my old granny can tell you exactly how many jars of jam Stinkin’ Rich bought during the very first zap apple harvest. Knowin’ yer apples is in the family blood!” She placed a hoof on Apple Bloom’s head, ruffling her mane in a parental gesture. “You’ll get there too someday Sugarcube, don’t you fret.” Apple Bloom beamed with pride. Dash settled her rump against a wall and folded her forelegs, grinning slyly. “Alright, fine. How many mugs of apple cider did I have at harvest time two years ago? And which apples were they made from?” Scootaloo rolled her eyes and chuckled, “Rainbow Dash, there’s no way Applejack can possibly know how many--” “Eight,” Applejack replied smugly, matching her friend’s expression. “Three of ‘em came from the back forty stock, and another three from the east field. You preferred the back forty because while they ain’t as good for bakin’, their natural sweetness makes ‘em particularly great for snacking that year.” Dash scrambled or a hole to exploit. “Oh yeah? How about the eighth one?” “That one,” Applejack grinned, “came from Granny Smith’s private stock. You want me to elaborate? I remember every bit of it, and I’ll ask ya Dash,” her grin broadened, “Do you really think I would spin a tale like that? And about apples, of all things?” “Wait, what?” Apple Bloom’s brow clouded, “What private stock? You mean the extra barrel we keep for ourselves?” She scrunched her muzzle in thought, “What’s so special about that?” The petting of Apple Bloom’s head took on a tone of condescension as her elder sister replied. “Dont’cha worry none about that, Sugarcube. I’ll tell ya all about it when you get a little older. Unless, that is-” Applejack’s emerald eyes slid over to the taller pegasus, “Rainbow Dash here wants to call my bluff.” Apple Bloom puffed her cheeks and bounced her legs as though on a pogo stick. “Aw, that’s what you always say! I’m old enough to handle anything!” She brightened at the amendment from her sister, her eyes darting back and forth between the two mares. “Wait, you will? I wanna know!” She stared at Dash while pointing at Applejack, “Tell her I wanna know!” Dash pushed off from the wall with her wings and held her hooves up in a gesture of surrender. “Alriiiiight alright already, geez! I get it, you know your apples. Let’s, um...keep that to ourselves, ‘kay?” “You don’t even remember it yourself, do ya,” Applejack phrased the words as a statement, rather than a question. Dash gritted her teeth, blushed, and made a show of looking away. “...no.” “But I wanna knowwww!” Apple Bloom complained. Scootaloo laid a consoling hoof on her friend’s withers and smiled. “Yeah, I don’t think they’re gonna tell us anything.” “Awwww...” Apple Bloom withered, dipping her head, “Darn.” Applejack’s smile fit the season perfectly. She stepped over to her cyan friend and wrapped a foreleg around her lithe frame. “Aw, buck up. You’re a faster flyer than I am!” Dash looked droll, “...yeah well you don’t even have wings, so...” Abandoning the topic, Applejack trotted out into the street and spun to meet her companions, her thickly tied mane tousling along with her bright red scarf as she moved. Her countenance was brighter than all the colors of the reflected light on the icicles above her head. “Well now, what would you fillies like to do for the rest of the day?” She queried. “There’s plenty of pretty decorations to check out in the market district, or we could go drop in on the palace maybe?” Dash caught Applejack’s enthusiasm and reflected it out upon the fillies from the opposite direction. “Oh yeah! I heard Twilight really outdid herself on the tree this time around. It’s twice as tall as last year’s! I bet it’s awesome, we should totally go and check it out.” The two crusaders let the wave of ardor wash over them. They shared a wordless glance at one another, but Scootaloo spoke first, nudging her friend in the ribs. “...go on, tell them!” Apple Bloom squirmed, “Right, right, just...gimmie a sec here...” Apple Bloom picked her steps in the street as she closed with the mares, careful to avoid wayward patches of ice. Scootaloo followed. With their ears mutually down in a gesture of humility, Apple Bloom took a deep breath, looked her big sister in the eye, and spoke. “We want to go see Sweetie Belle.” Applejack felt a shiver run down her spine that wasn’t brought on by the cold. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Rainbow Dash, who was biting her lip and making furious throat-cutting gestures with one hoof. Applejack rose a brow helplessly, until Dash changed her approach to dramatically sniffing the air while pointing down the street. “Well, that...we could do that, but...” Applejack took Dash’s cue and ran with it, “But hey! I bet that apple pie smell is comin’ from Sugarcube Corner!” She rubbed her stomach and licked her lips, “Mmhmm, huh? I dunno about you, but I sure could go for somethin’ sweet right now!” “So could we Applejack,” Apple Bloom said stubbornly, “But you an’ I aren’t talking about the same ‘sweet’.” Rainbow Dash silently smacked her own forehead over the poor use of words. Applejack felt the eyes of the fillies crushing her like a juicer. Subtly she twitched her tail in Dash’s direction. It was a prepared signal, and instantly the newest Wonderbolt zipped in to run interference. “Hey! I got it!” Dash interceded, now right by Scootaloo’s side, “How about a sleigh ride?” “O-oh yeah!” Applejack followed along, “That’d be just the thing to do on a day like today! The rollin’ hills, pretty blankets of white as far as your eye can see...” “That’s awesome and everything,” Dash added, “but I was thinking of something way cooler,” She held her foreleg up and panned it in an arc through the air. “I could take us all on a sleigh ride in the sky! I just got one of those extra-light, streamlined speed sleighs that they use for air-hauling competitions.” She patted Scootaloo roughly on the withers, “Whattaya say, little buddy? Wouldn’t that be just the totally most awesomest thing ever!?” Scootaloo reached up to gently pat the offered foreleg, somewhere around Dash’s elbow. “That’s...that’s great and all Rainbow Dash, but Apple Bloom and I have been talking about it, and...we really want to go and see Sweetie Belle.” Dash’s expression turned uncharacteristically towards helplessness. She let out a dry chuckle. “But...you really love it when I take you up into the sky for a spin around the clouds...” Scootaloo’s patting became a gentle, single touch. Her smile was apologetic. “Sure I do. It’s just...” Words failed. Apple Bloom picked up the slack. “It’s just that she’s our best friend and we ain’t even seen her in a whole month,” The earth filly explained. She turned to her big sister, offering her a pointed frown. “It ain’t like we don’t appreciate all your neat ideas, but...you understand big sis, dont’cha?” “Heyyyy,” Dash pulled away from the younger pegasus and interposed herself between the two Apple siblings, looming over the younger with an overly friendly grin. “I get what this is. If you’re afraid of heights, don’t worry about it! I’ve tooootally got’cha covered! You’re completely safe with me, so there’s no need to--” Dash felt a hoof on her shoulder. Cut off from her words, she turned just enough to gaze upon the resigned shaking of Applejack’s head. “Game’s up, Dash.” “B-but...” Dash blubbered softly, “...we were supposed to...” “Supposed to what?” Apple Bloom’s expression worked back and forth between curiosity and anger. She fixed her elders with a withering stare in the middle of the semi-crowded street, but kept her voice even. “What were you supposed to do, Applejack?” Applejack glanced at Rainbow Dash. The latter scratched the back of her neck uncomfortably and took a step out of the way of the two Apple siblings. Applejack approached her younger sister, a careful ease in her tone as she explained. “Sugarcube, it’s just...” She swallowed, “Sweetie Belle, she...she don’t really wanna see nopony right now.” “So Rarity asked us to keep the two of you busy with fun stu--” Dash blurted. “Dash!” Applejack scolded. Rainbow Dash flailed her forelegs. “I-I-I-I mean, we thought that maybe the four of us should just, you know...hang out more! There’s so much fun stuff to do this time of the year! Y-you don’t wanna miss out on all the awesome caroling and candy and all that, right?” “Wait a minute,” Scootaloo, who had been content with silently standing behind her more boisterous friend, breached the conversation. “Are you telling us that the two of you were only hanging out with us more often than usual this month because you think Sweetie Belle, our best friend in the whole world, wouldn’t want to see us...?” Applejack heard sirens blazing in her head. She glanced at Dash, but no further assistance was forthcoming - the rattled pegasus had slipped behind the fillies and was making crash and burn gestures with her hooves. Applejack sighed deeply and took in another deep breath of the sharp winter air. “It ain’t like that,” She stated evenly, feeling somewhat indignant over the implied accusation. “Y’all both know that Rainbow Dash and I treasure every moment we get to spend with the both of you.” Apple Bloom, her chest puffing with the stubbornness of her bloodline, ignored the mollifying statement and went right for the throat. “Then why are you both trying to distract us with fun stuff whenever we bring Sweetie Belle up?” “I done explained that already,” Applejack gritted her teeth and dug one hoof into the slushy ground. “You gotta understand. Sweetie Belle, she...well she...” She wracked her brain for the proper words, “...things have been rough for her this past month. She ain’t been well.” “We know she’s not well!” Apple Bloom persisted, her volume drawing a glance or two from passersby. “That’s exactly why we wanna go see her! She’s been ‘unwell’ a lot longer than just a month, so what gives now that makes it any different than before?” “We used to bring her homework to her every day after school,” Scootaloo added, her tone somewhat more chaste given that she was not addressing her own flesh and blood. “Until Rarity started doing it. She would seriously, like, come to our school every day after class to get all the work for the day directly from Miss Cherilee.” She shrugged, “Isn’t Rarity, you know...too busy to do something like that every single day? It was totally no problem at all for us to just take it to Sweetie Belle ourselves.” “And then we could actually see her a little bit every day,” Apple Bloom took over again, determination hard on her brow. “How are we s’posed to make our sick friend feel better if we can’t even go and see her!?” Big sister instinct was beginning to bleed into Applejack’s conscious thoughts. Her stare hardened, matching that of her sibling’s perfectly. “Apple Bloom, you’re makin’ a scene. This ain’t the right time to be talking about this, and the both of you need to show a little respect for your best friend’s wishes--” “Did she say that?” Apple Bloom widened her stance and gazed up at her elder, cutting her off. “Did Sweetie Belle tell you, to your face, that she don’t wanna see us?” “Rarity said it.” Dash’s voice was uncharacteristically small. Worry clear on her features, she approached again, standing by her friend in a show of solidarity. “Sweetie Belle’s really sick guys. Like sicker than she was a month ago. We should leave her alone for now.” She did her best to strike an awe-inspiring pose, tousling the spectrum of her mane with a sharp wave of her neck. “So how about we go on that sleigh ride instead, huh? You have my personal, Wonderbolts-approved seal of awesomeness that it’s going to be cooler than the snow!” She focused mainly on Scootaloo, “How about it little buddy?” Scootaloo grabbed her scarf in her teeth and drew it tighter around her neck, protecting herself from a sudden extra chill in the air. She made eye contact with her mentor again, and once again, her expression was one of apology. “I love hanging out with you, Rainbow Dash,” She said carefully. “So I’m really, really sorry, but...unless Sweetie Belle herself told you she doesn’t want to see us, we want to go over there and see how she’s doing.” Dash groaned audibly and touched her hoof to her forehead in frustration. Applejack cut in, looking stern now. “Rarity told us what her sister said. Ain’t that enough fer you two?” She focused in particular on her sister, “Or are you callin’ me a liar?” Apple Bloom winced a at the perceived accusation, which she knew to be just about the worst possible thing to accuse her big sister of. “N-no! But how would you feel if you weren’t feeling good and your best friends never came to see you? Even if Sweetie Belle said that, she can’t have meant it!” Applejack was beginning to lose her patience. Ponyville vanished, and her world reduced to only herself and her sister. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna be served by you all goin’ over there! It’s the holiday season and fillies like you should be out having fun, not...not--” “Not what?” Apple Bloom fired back, “Not comforting the ponies we care about when they need us most?” Her sneer turned practically feral, and both pegasi backed away from the confrontation. “You’re still trying to protect me, Applejack! If that’s the only reason we’re spending all this time together, then it’s not even worth doing!” Applejack felt a fault line full of rage begin to crack within her. She sputtered, “Wh-what? Is that all you think wantin’ to spend time with you is!? Protectin’ you from stuff? Gosh darnit, yer my little sister, how can you ever think I wouldn’t want to just be with you!?” “If you really care about me, then let me go and see my friend!” “It’s her wishes that she don’t wanna see nopony!” Applejack growled, heedless of onlookers. “Why can’t y’all respect that!?” “I do respect her! She’s my best friend!” “Then knock it off about goin’ over there! Yer ruining the whole day with this here tantrum!” “You wouldn’t be saying that if it was Rarity who was sick! Or Fluttershy! Or Twilight!” “It ain’t like I don’t care!” Applejack exploded, steam blasting from her nostrils, “It’s because I care that I’m respecting their wishes and stayin’ away! Now you listen to me young filly, cause if you keep this here blobberin’ up, so help me I’ll tan yer hide right out here on this street corner!” “You wouldn’t dare,” Apple Bloom scowled. “You just try me, filly,” Applejack rumbled, muzzle to muzzle with her little sister. “Woah woah woah,” Dash forced her way into the conversation and between the muzzles of the rival siblings. “Come on everypony, just calm down! You’re blowing this wayyyyy out of proportion.” “She started it!” Both Apples exclaimed together, turning sharply away from one another with an audible harumph. Dash made a face and came up behind Applejack, turning her back on the foals and softening her voice to something more private. “Hey, AJ,” She began, “This isn’t what we agreed to. We said we were gonna show the foals a good time and take their mind off of stuff.” Applejack’s left ear twitched. “That’s what we’ve been doing. Until my sister decided to get more stubborn than a sleeping ursa in the middle of the road.” “Think about what you just said to her,” Dash hissed under her breath. “Did you really mean that?” Applejack’s shoulders finally slumped. “...a’course I didn’t mean it. I’m just...under a lot of stress lately.” Dash managed a small smile. “You and me both. Everypony’s nerves have been frazzled lately, but just imagine how it is for Rarity.” A few yards away, Apple Bloom’s hackles were up like a timberwolf. Scootaloo reached out, but dared not make contact with her, choosing instead to send her words out on the task. “Apple Bloom...” She began, “I wanna see Sweetie Belle too, but relax...fighting with your sister isn’t the way to do it...” “Fightin’?” Apple Bloom whirled, fire still alight in her amber eyes, “Whose fightin’? I ain’t fightin’!” “You’re totally fighting,” Scootaloo replied dryly. The cold realization cleansed the volcanic ire in the earth filly’s Apple blood. She let out a breath and seemed to deflate. “I...but, I just wanna see Sweetie Belle--” A set of heavy hoof-falls in the snow next to the earth filly cut off her words. She looked up - into the distressed, emerald eyes and familiar freckled cheeks of her elder sister. She made as if to speak, but Applejack held up a silencing hoof. “I’m sorry, Apple Bloom,” She stated frankly. “Y’all know I would never, ever raise my hoof in anger against any of my kin. Or anypony at all, really. I was just...” Applejack trailed off. In her eyes, Apple Bloom could see the same emotions, and new instantly they pertained to the exact same thing. Shamed, she reached out and placed her small hoof on her sister’s chest. “I’m sorry too.” Her eyes went crocodile, “But you...you understand, right? I know you understand.” Applejack nodded haltingly “I do. And I guess...we better get on over to the Boutique while there’s still some light out.” Applejack turned. Before her, Dash was looking pointedly away, grinding her teeth with her eyebrows turned up. Applejack spoke simply and softly. “You comin’?” “I, uh...” Rainbow Dash faltered and began watching the skyline as though she were hoping to become a part of it. “I...I’m not really good in situations like...you know...” Sensing the awkwardness, Scootaloo stepped forward and offered her adopted sister an ‘out’. “Hey Dash,” She smiled, peppering her voice with enthusiasm she hoped would be taken as genuine, “How about that sleigh ride afterwards? We won’t be long, and it totally would be just about the coolest thing ever! You could go and get it ready for us and meet us there later, couldn’t you?” “Huh?” Dash scrunched her muzzle in confusion, but just a quickly caught on. She saluted playfully. “Sure can, little boss-buddy! It’s not every day you can get a personal sleigh-ride from a Wonderbolt anyway, now is it!” “Nope!” Apple Bloom sang, letting Dash have her moment, “Sure ain’t, and it sounds like fun!” “It...sounds great Dash,” Applejack smiled appreciatively at Scootaloo, “Just try to keep it under a hundred miles per--” “See ya lickety-split!” Dash revved her wings like a rocket engine and was off in trail of rainbow colors so fast, she was out of sight before Applejack could finish her sentence. “--hour. Well.” Applejack adjusted her hat, which had been blown slightly off course with the force of the departure. She picked out the correct street and turned towards it, but Apple Bloom touched her foreleg, giving her pause. “...thanks Applejack.” “...sure Sugarcube,” Applejack smiled wanly. “Come on now, let’s git. It ain’t polite to come callin’ after dark.” With a dozen hooves crunching rhythmically in the snow, the trio of somber ponies began their pilgrimage across town.
