True Love's Kiss

by bats

Rating: teen
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, Slice of Life, Applejack, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance
Length: 18707

After psyching herself up, Twilight asks Applejack out on a date. Everything's going well until an obscure form of unicorn magic interrupts and makes things really awkward.

It took Twilight a long time to build up the courage to ask Applejack out, but she finally did it. What she hadn't prepared for was the two of them triggering an Attunement, an incredibly rare magical reaction that unicorn fillies call 'True Love's Kiss.'

And the date was going so well, too.

(Takes place in late season 7, after Once Upon a Zeppelin but before Shadow Play)

Editing by Formerly Committed and JetstreamGW.

Published 2019-05-29 21:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-05-29 21:00:01 UTC

Part 1

Applejack stooped halfway down towards the barrel of apples and froze. She shot back up straight and a smile crossed her face, then she flinched and dug back into the apples. “Sure, Twi.”

Twilight shrunk back a half step from the side of the fruit stand as Applejack loaded up the counter with apples. “Yeah?”

Dropping the last apple on the pile, Applejack said, “Eeyup.” She turned and smiled at Mrs. Cake, who had lost all interest in the apples and stared back and forth between her and Twilight with slack surprise. “That’ll be eight bits, and thank ya kindly.” She swept the coins into her drawer as Mrs. Cake wandered off in a daze. “When ya wanna go, Saturday? If ya like, I’m all about sold out here, we can go after I close up.” She glanced up and smiled wide. “Howdy there, Ms. Cheerilee, what can I do ya for today?”

Cheerilee jumped and stopped staring at Twilight. “I’m sorry, what?”

Twilight rubbed her shoulder as spots of pink grew brighter on her cheeks. “So that was a yes?”

Applejack blinked, glanced between Twilight and the twisting line of gawking customer ponies, then pulled her hat down over her eyes. She cleared her throat and said to Cheerilee, “‘Scuse me just a moment, sugarcube,” then turned to face Twilight directly. “Sorry, Twi, lemme try that again.”

Twilight laid her ears flat. “Huh?”

“What I was meanin’ to say was that I’d love to go on a date with you.” She smiled and put her hoof on Twilight’s shoulder.

“Oh. Oh!” Twilight’s ears shot up and she grinned. “Okay. Great!”

Applejack returned the smile, then winced as a small chorus of cheers and cat-calls erupted from the line. She eyed them, then started loading apples onto the counter. “Sorry I didn’t say it that way the first time, I’m just …” She glared at Cheerilee, who was beaming at the both of them.

Cheerilee started. “Oh, um. A half dozen, please?”

“Sure thing.” She looked sidelong at Twilight. “I’m just sayin’ you picked a funny time to ask is all.”

Twilight blinked herself out of a reverie and looked down sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry. I just … wasn’t sure how long my courage would last.”

“Well, that’s all right. And that’s five bits.” She raised her voice. “I said, five bits.”

Cheerilee eeped, and dropped some coins on the table, then skittered away backwards with her apples, still watching them.

Applejack sighed, gave Bon Bon a warning stare, then turned back to Twilight. “I’m glad ya asked any which way, what’cha have in mind?” She glared out of the corner of her eye when someone whistled.

Twilight cleared her throat and muttered, “I didn’t know I would cause a scene, sorry.” She swiveled around until she was mostly putting her back to the line and leaned in, keeping her voice low. “Do you want to grab lunch after you’ve sold out?”

“That sounds great. I’ll get everything closed up and put away, then I’ll swing by for ya. Sound good, Twi?”

“Sounds perfect.” Twilight nuzzled her cheek, igniting another round of whistles, which made her spring back. She gave Applejack a tiny, embarrassed wave, and hurried off out of the market.

Applejack looked up at the sea of grinning faces. “Y’all better cut that out right now or ain’t nobody buyin’ no more apples today!”

Bon Bon withered in her gaze and held her front hooves up in surrender. “I’ll be good! I just want to buy things!”

Chuffing in satisfaction, Applejack nodded sharply. “That’s more like it. What’cha having?”

“Ten, please.”

Applejack nodded again and filled Bon Bon’s order on the counter. “And lemme beg your forgiveness, I don’t mean to be sour with you.”

“No, no, I understand. That was just very … sweet.”

“Uh huh,” Applejack said flatly. “Seven bits.” She stored Bon Bon’s money and glared at the barrel. Normally she’d look on the bright side of things and say it was half full, but at the moment she’d prefer it to be half empty. She returned to the line and her expression softened. “Well, howdy there, Mr. Rich.”

“Hello to you, too, Ms. Applejack,” Filthy Rich said, giving her a warm grin. “I was—”

Diamond Tiara stood up on her hind legs and squirmed in front of her dad to look at Applejack with stars in her eyes. “That’s amazing! You’re going out with a princess!”

Applejack’s teeth clacked shut and she shrunk back from Diamond Tiara.

“Aren’t you excited? That makes you royalty, too!”

Flithy’s tone turned chiding, but indulgent. “Diamond, honey, leave the poor mare alone, you know what I always say about gossip?”

Diamond glared and recited, “Other ponies’ business isn’t any of our business,” in a flat monotone at the same time as Filthy.

“Right you are!” He winked at Applejack. “I just need an apple for the apple of my eye, though I’m half tempted to buy the rest of your barrel so you can get out of here.”

Applejack chuckled and fetched an apple for Diamond Tiara. “’Preciate the thought, but you ain’t gotta do that, I’ll manage fine.”

He slapped down a bit. “I suspect you will. Tell the salespony ‘thank you,’ Diamond.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled around a bite of apple, then followed Filthy back out into the marketplace. Applejack heard her say, “What’s the big deal? Everypony who is anypony would be excited to date a princess!”

Applejack let out a long breath, then put on her best smile for the next in line. She filled orders one after another, emptying the barrel and filling her money drawer, her mind wandering. She frowned to herself. She didn’t agree to go on a date because Twilight was a princess, she agreed to go on a date because Twilight was Twilight. She didn’t much think about the princess part, it didn’t come up all that often. And it certainly didn’t make Applejack royalty, it was just a date.

She sold the last of her apples to Mayor Mare, packed up her cart, and headed for home at a quick pace. The sun was nearing midday, she could feel her stomach growling all ready, and she wanted to have a little bit of extra time to get ready.

“Might just be a date, but it’s still a date,” she said to herself. Her trot slowly turned into a prance and her smile grew as she went.

Applejack stopped short of the castle door and hesitated. She took a deep breath and patted down her mane, which was already down flat, brushed, and still slightly damp from a bath, then raised a hoof to knock. She thought the better of it and just grabbed the handle. The door swung open silently and she stepped into the antechamber.

“Twilight?” she trilled, winced, cleared her throat, and called out again in a real voice, “You, uh, ready for lunch?”

Twilight’s voice floated back through the halls. “Be there in a minute!”

Applejack crossed her legs and stood there, feeling somewhere between relaxed and awkward, and waited a few moments until the echoes of hoofsteps drew her attention. A door opened and Twilight poked her head out. “Hi.”

“Well, hi, yourself.” She smiled at Twilight. Twilight smiled back with color rising in her cheeks. Not that Applejack could talk, she felt heat warming up her own face. “You ready?”

“Um, almost. Maybe.” She shied back from the door she was peeking around. “You’re not wearing your hat.”

Applejack rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah, seemed … I dunno.” She shrugged. “Hat’s for workin’. Didn’t feel right wearin’ it on a date. I kinda thought about wearin’ …” She fidgeted and rubbed her shoulder. “Truth be told, I didn’t know what to wear and tore through the dozen big, flashy dresses Rarity’s made me over the years, before decidin’ that it was a lunch date and I oughta just come all normal like, if that makes sense.”

“It does,” she said with a hint of worry in her voice. “Um. Is this too much?” She stepped out from behind the door.

Applejack’s eyebrows shot up. The dress Twilight wore wouldn’t have looked out of place at the Grand Galloping Gala, with a long, flowing skirt in royal purple and her shoulders wrapped in a matching shawl, pinned in front with a large, six pointed star brooch on her chest. A fine filigree of silver thread made stars and moons flash over the whole surface as light caught the stitching.

“Wow,” Applejack eventually said.

“It’s too much.” Twilight sat down and pulled the whole dress off over her head in a single motion. “I knew it was too much.” She sighed and forced a smile. “Let me just … put this away.” She lifted the dress up in her magic and straightened it out.

“I-it’s a real nice dress.”

“Thank you. Rarity made it for me.”

“You can wear it if you want. I could go put on somethin’ … I was gonna say more fancy, but seein’ as I’m wearin’ nothin’ right now …”

Twilight giggled, and some of the rigidity left her tone. “No, no, you’re right, this is better for lunch, I was just worried that—” she cut herself and sighed, then giggled again. “I was overthinking things. I’m sure you’re surprised.”

Applejack laughed and sat down on the floor. “Don’t worry none, I ain’t doin’ much better.” As she said it, she felt most of her tension melt away.

Twilight let out a long breath and turned around. “Okay, I’m going to put this away, and then we can go to the café and have a normal lunch date like a couple of sane ponies. Does that sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.” She shared a grin with Twilight, who then stomped off down the hall. She let out her own breath and rubbed her face. She was regretting not wearing her hat.

The door opened again, and Twilight crossed the antechamber to join her at the door. “The café is okay, right?”

“Oh, yeah, ‘course.” She stood up and pushed open the door for Twilight, then followed out into the sunshine. “We always like that place.”

Twilight fell into pace next to Applejack and drew her brow together. “I know, that’s why I’m … overthinking things again.” She chuckled. “We’ve been there for lunch so many times without it being a date that it seems like maybe it’s not the right place to go.”

“Only difference between those lunches and a date is us sayin’ it’s a date or not, sugarcube.”

“I suppose that’s true.” A comfortable lull fell over them as they passed through the outskirts of the market and made their way towards the town square. Twilight snickered and looked sideways at Applejack. “So, uh, I hope you had an easy time selling the rest of your apples this morning.”

Applejack snorted and lowered her head. “Hoo, boy.”

“I’m sorry,” Twilight said through laughter. “I really didn’t mean to do that to you.”

“Wouldn’t imagine so, but you at least got to leave afterwards.” She bumped Twilight’s shoulder playfully. “But nah, it wasn’t nothing too bad. Just had to give ‘em the stink-eye for long enough, and they all piped down.”

Twilight smiled and shook her head. “I really don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking, really, it just felt sort of like a now-or-never thing, even though that’s silly.”

Shrugging, Applejack nodded. “I get that, I think. And if that’s what was goin’ on, and my choice was either you asked me then or never, I’m glad ya asked me.”

“Yeah?”

Applejack smiled. Twilight smiled back. They got to the café and Twilight sat on the haybale she always took, at the table they always ended up sitting at outside, and Applejack sat across from her. “Hoo-ee, I’m starvin’. Whatcha think, Twi, plate‘a hayfries? I ain’t gonna get through a whole one by myself.”

“I’ll have some.” She lifted a menu off the table and started reading. “Though that means I shouldn’t get something that comes with fries …”

“You mean you ain’t gettin’ the same salad you always get?”

“I didn’t say that at all, seeing as it doesn’t come with fries. But really, that isn’t fair, I know how to be adventurous with food.” She looked up at the waiter as he stepped over to the table. “Hi.”

“Afternoon, fillies. Lemme guess, water with lemon for the princess?”

Applejack snorted.

Twilight pouted. “I’m not that predictable,” she muttered low, then sighed and told him, “I was actually thinking of trying … okay, no, you’re right, water with lemon.”

Applejack grinned at Twilight.

“And an apple juice, extra pulp?”

Applejack stopped smiling. She sighed and gave the waiter a reluctant nod. “Yeah, that’ll do me.”

Twilight giggled. “I think he has us figured out.”

Leaning back on her haybale, Applejack nodded. “Yeah, reckon so. Care to try ‘n guess our food order, too?”

He drew himself up and frowned in thought. “Well, now, that’s harder to pin down. I suppose it really depends on whether or not you want an order of hayfries for the table.”

Applejack snorted and buried her face in her hooves. “Ah, heck, we’re done for, Twi.”

Stifling giggles, Twilight floated the menus off the table. “We give up, you win.”

The waiter took the menus and grinned. He said, “A glazed almond salad, an eggplant parm hero, and a plate of fries it is, then,” and walked back into the restaurant.

“Rats,” Applejack muttered, “I was still hopin’ he’d get it wrong.”

Twilight leaned forward and rested her chin on a hoof in thought. “That seems a little counter-productive to me. You’d end up getting something to eat that you didn’t want.”

“It’d be the best tastin’ wrong thing I’d ever eat.”

Chuckling, Twilight shook her head and leaned back. “I suppose it would be nicely seasoned with vindictiveness.”

“I’d probably miss my dang parm, though, so I reckon this is probably better.” She rubbed her cheek and frowned. “What were we talkin’ about before all this food stuff?”

“… Um …” Twilight knit her brow. “Had we moved on from me leaving you with a bunch of prying customers?”

Applejack crinkled her muzzle, then shrugged. “I guess that’s what it was. Eh, don’t matter. You know how my day went, anyway, how’s yours been?”

“Oh. I don’t know, mostly normal. I’ve been answering so many letters if feels like my horn’s going to fall off.”

“This just ponies lookin’ for advice?”

“Yeah.” She rubbed an eye and gave Applejack a tired smile. “Most of them foals, too. And a lot of the problems are the same. It’s funny how often I can answer a question by just relating a story about something the six of us have been through.”

“I bet that wears ya down after a while.”

“Oh, I’m okay.” She sat up straight. “I like doing it, really. And it can’t be more tiring than bucking trees all day.”

“Different sorta tirin’.” Applejack shrugged. “And I’m sure them letters keep comin’ no matter what ya do. If you ever need a break, I wouldn’t mind writing back a few for ya. Bet the girls’d be happy to do that, too.”

“Thanks.” The waiter stopped off with their drinks, and Twilight floated the lemon wedge out of her glass. She rubbed it along the rim, then squeezed the juice out over the water. “I’m okay, but I will keep that in mind. And really, you’re welcome to read and answer letters whenever you want. I think you’ve all got just as much of a right to them as I do.”

“Hm. Maybe I’ll take a gander at ‘em soon.” She took a sip of her juice and enjoyed the fact that she could chew it. “So ya spent the mornin’ writin’ letters, then up and decided to ask me out?”

“Oh, is that why you asked about my day? I thought you actually wanted to know how it was going.”

Applejack raised her eyebrows. “Nah, I mean—”

Twilight giggled. “I’m just kidding, don’t worry.”

“I would’a let it be if you said you were havin’ a rough day.”

“I know. I’m also stalling.” Twilight took a long drink of her water, keeping her eyes trained on the table. She set the glass down and cleared her throat. “The last letter I read was from a filly in Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.”

Applejack nodded. “Made ya think back over your days there?”

She sighed and shook her head. “Not really. She was writing because of a problem she was having with her best friend. The problem was she has feelings for her best friend, and doesn’t know how to tell her.”

“Ah.” Applejack nodded firmly. “I’m seein’ it now.”

“Yeah.” She sipped her water, and her lips puckered from the lemon and she wrinkled her nose for a bare second. Applejack pretended not to notice. “That’s a pretty common type of letter for me to get that I don’t have an easy go-to story to share for.” She straightened up. “But most of them are from colts writing about fillies. Or fillies writing about colts.”

Applejack nodded again. “And this’n made you think about you a li’l faster.”

“It wasn’t even that, really.” Twilight frowned and rubbed her cheek in thought. “It was everything she said in the letter. She was scared about what her friend might say, and what it might do to the friendship they already have. She said that if she was risking losing that friendship, she’d much rather say nothing at all.”

Applejack frowned and fidgeted in her seat on the haybale. “You ain’t—weren’t—worried ‘bout what I might’a said like that, were you?”

“No.” Twilight smiled sheepishly. “The first thing I wrote down in the reply was that from everything she’d said to me about their friendship, nothing in Equestria would ever have the chance of breaking that friendship apart.” She took a long drink of her lemon-water and puckered up again. “I then threw that reply out, because I realized I was projecting, and maybe I didn’t know enough about her to say that.”

Applejack chuckled and stared at her juice. “Yeah, I was gonna say.”

“It did make me articulate the thought, and realize that any anxieties I had about asking you weren’t founded on anything real. Plus I could relate to a lot of what she was talking about, so it got me thinking about … things.”

Applejack grinned and chewed her juice. “Whatcha end up sayin’ to her after all’a that?”

“Oh.” She sighed. “I haven’t written back yet. I threw out my first draft and went to talk to you.” She smiled and rubbed her shoulder. “And after that, I thought it probably wasn’t a good idea to just write, ‘you should tell her, she’ll say yes and you’ll feel like you got a perfect score on a surprise quiz for the next few hours,’ so I decided I should wait to answer her until I have a bit more level of a perspective.”

Applejack laughed, then covered her mouth as their lunch arrived. A small curl of steam rose up from her eggplant, and she smashed the top bun down over it, glad he hadn’t gotten the order wrong after all. “Now we’re talkin’!”

“Can I get you ladies anything else?”

Twilight and Applejack exchanged a look, then turned to him and said in unison, “You tell us.”

He smiled and gave them a little bow. “Peace and quiet it is, then. Let me know if you need anything, I’ll be back with fresh drinks just before you’re about to run out.” He winked, then turned and walked away.

“I dunno if that’s real good service, or kinda spooky.” Applejack took a bite of her sandwich.

“I’m going with both. How’s the sandwich?”

“Just what I wanted.” She took a bigger bite and smiled around it. “’N ‘r s’l’d?”

Twilight giggled and covered her face. “My old Ponish is a little rusty, but the salad is good if that’s what you asked, thank you.”

Clearing her mouth with some juice, Applejack said, “Welcome. So other’n letters from lovesick fillies, how’s other stuff goin’?”

“Oh, you know.” She shrugged and floated her napkin to her mouth. “Nothing too exciting. The map hasn’t sent anypony off anywhere lately. The last pony—err, creature, I guess—that it called was Spike, and that was kind of a strange one, honestly. It kind of seemed to make everything worse than it would have been if Spike had just dealt with Ember and Thorax on his own. Why are you laughing?”

Applejack picked up her own napkin and hid her chuckles. “Sorry. When I was askin’ how stuff’s goin’, I wasn’t tryin’ to make you talk about work. I’m sure you get enough’a that when you’re workin.’”

Twilight blinked, then giggled. “I guess I’m sorry for bringing work up again. That’s something normal ponies try to relax and unwind from, isn’t it?” She rubbed an eye.

“Ain’t no reason to do the ‘normal’ thing if you don’t wanna. Plus, there’re plenty’a ponies out there wrapped up in their jobs.”

“I can see both sides of it, honestly.” She speared several hunks of lettuce and a grape tomato on a fork and shoved them in her mouth. “After … everything,” she fluttered her wings for emphasis, “I spent a long time feeling at loose ends, and it’s felt really good to have something to do since then. It’s a little hard to turn that off.”

Applejack glanced up from her sandwich with her mouth full and nodded.

“On the other hoof, it’s a little hard to turn off. Sometimes it feels like all I am anymore is the work.” She hovered her fork over her salad and rested her chin on a hoof. “There’s always something else to do, and somepony else who really needs me.” She sighed. “And I can’t forget that the only vacation I’ve had ended up turning into work, too.” She looked up, then forced a smile. “Sorry. I’m complaining about silly things.”

Applejack swallowed and wiped her mouth off. “Nah, I get what you’re talkin’ about. I ain’t gonna pretend a farm needs the same sorta stuff as ponies in trouble, or that it’s the same sorta important, but there’s still always somethin’ to do, and it ain’t something I can turn off too easy myself. And feelin’ that way don’t mean I don’t love it any more than it means you don’t.”

Twilight’s smile warmed up and she nodded. “I guess that’s true.” She took another bite of salad. “So how are things going for you?”

“Oh, y’know, gettin’ about time for cider season.” She winked, sparking a laugh. “Nah, things’re good. Nothin’ too excitin’ or different, just the usual sorta day to day stuff, but between all the savin’ the world troubles, I’ve grown to really like the day to day stuff.” She looked over what was left of her hero and took a big bite, chewing slowly. “… Been … nice gettin’ to know Grand Pear.”

Twilight looked down at her salad. “I’d bet that is nice.”

“It’s hard. But still nice. He knows stories I don’t, and he’s givin’ Apple Bloom a bit of mom she ain’t had. Me and Mac, too, but that don’t matter so much to me as Apple Bloom. But … part’a me … still remembers mom, and what he did, and wants to be angry at him for it.” Applejack winced and set her sandwich down. “Sorry, this got kinda heavier’n I meant it to.”

“That’s okay.” Twilight smiled and slid her hoof across the table, resting it on Applejack’s. “I understand. And it’s good to talk about. If you want to.”

Applejack sighed and nodded. “I dunno. Whatever the story then and whatever he did and said, he’s a sweet ol’ gramps of a pony now, and I know deep down in my heart that I can’t really be mad at him. All he wants is a bit of that family he let go of. Took him some time to get there, but he still got there.” She stared at the few bites left of her sandwich and pushed the plate away. “I guess I’m just still sore ‘n raw about mom and dad. And that ain’t fair to him.”

“I don’t know that it has to be fair to him, really. I don’t know that life works that way.”

“It oughtta.” She looked up and gave Twilight a crooked smile. “But yeah. I reckon it’ll get easier here ‘n there. And givin’ that to Apple Bloom makes it all worth it, anyway.”

Twilight nodded. “Just don’t … bury those emotions, okay? It’s okay to not feel perfectly happy about all of this, you’re coming from an honest place. Pushing that away for the sake of others might be the noble thing to do, but it doesn’t help anypony if it eats you up inside.”

Applejack closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. “Yeah …” She patted Twilight’s hoof fondly, then took hers back and rubbed her face. “That’s the right call, I think. We all mended the bridge there with him ‘n Granny, and the dinners and stories with him’re nice, but I been feelin’ a wall there between him and me, and it’s been growin’ thicker. I really should talk to him about all’a this. I’ve just been scared that if I did, it’d drive somethin’ between him and AB, and it’d be my fault.” She grimaced and ran her hoof over her mouth. “And it would be my fault, ‘cause who he is now is what oughtta matter.”

“Your feelings matter, too.” Twilight frowned and sat back on her hay bale. “As much as it feels like it, other pony’s feelings aren’t your responsibility, and you can’t take all of that on your shoulders just to try and protect them.”

“I know that in my head,” Applejack said. “But knowin’ it in my head and feelin’ it in my heart ain’t the same thing.”

Twilight let out a long breath and nodded. “Believe me, I understand that.” She smiled wanly. “Still. You said that Grand Pear already gave up part of his family once, and spent years of his life regretting it. I don’t think he’d make the same mistake again, just because one of the ponies he’s trying to get back hasn’t had a chance to heal yet.”

Applejack stared off, away from the table. “Yeah.” She sighed. “It’d be a lot easier if ma and pa were still here. I can see what mom would’a been like if she’d been there when he came back, in my head. She wouldn’t have been raw like me. She couldn’t hold a grudge in her body for a second.” She turned back to Twilight with a small smile fighting its way through. “Dad’s a bit harder to guess, but he loved seein’ ma happy, he’d probably hold onto that with all four hooves as tight as he could.”

“Well … maybe that’s worth keeping in mind. If you know that no matter what he did and how it hurt your parents in the past, your mom would still have welcomed him back …”

“Yeah, I been tryin’ to think of it that way.” Her smile drifted away. “Then again, I was awful little when we lost ‘em. Can’t say I even know ‘em well enough to guess how they’d be.” Applejack felt a wave of melancholy crash over her, and she closed her eyes for a moment. She took a deep breath and shook her head. “I wish I had more of ‘em, or remembered ‘em better, so I could really know what they’d say ‘n what they’d want. I think that’s a big part’a why I’m so angry at him.” She clenched her jaw and looked down at her scraps of food. “If he hadn’t left, maybe things’d be different. Maybe I wouldn’t’a lost ‘em.”

Twilight didn’t say anything. She looked down at her salad and loaded up her fork with what was left.

“I know playin’ that game ain’t gonna get me nowhere. What’s done is done. Nopony can change that. I just gotta try’n … let it all go. I don’t want to be angry at him, I wanna forgive him if I can, and have somethin’ with him the same as AB’s gettin’. I wanna know him better, try and get some piece of mom back, even if she’s gone. I want a grandpa.” Applejack let out a long sigh and sat up straight. “I am feelin’ better now, havin’ talked it out. Thank you, Twi.”

“Of course.” Twilight smiled, though a hint of sadness colored her expression. “You’re welcome.”

“Maybe I needed it, but I’m still sorry for bringin’ down the mood.” Applejack rubbed her cheek and looked down at the table. “… And for orderin’ fries, we didn’t even touch ‘em.”

Twilight blinked, looked at the heaping plate of hayfries, then snickered. “Technically we didn’t order them, though, did we?”

They shared a look, then both started laughing. “Next thing you know, he’s gonna bring—”

“A to go box,” said the waiter as he set a small carton down on the table. “And your check, unless I can get you anything else?”

Applejack grumbled and started loading the hayfries into be box.

“No, I think that’s it, thank you.” Twilight took the bill’s folder in her magic, then had it snatched out of the air in Applejack’s teeth. “Hey—"

“I got it, Twi,” Applejack said around the folder as she closed up the box.

“You don’t have to do that, I’m happy to—”

“And so am I.”

Twilight muttered something under her breath, then gave the waipony a polite smile, who took the hint and slipped back towards the restaurant. “I invited you out, it’s tradition that I pay.”

Applejack spat out the billfold, then pinned it down to the table when magic surrounded it. “And I’m payin’ anyways.”

“Ugh, fine, but I get the next one.”

“Fair.” A small lull fell over them while Applejack counted out some bits and stacked them up on the check.

Twilight cleared her throat. “… I mean, i-if you’d like there to be a next one …” Her voice came out shaky and a little hollow, with a false lack of concern.

Applejack paused halfway through tallying and smiled. “You free tomorrow night?” She counted out a tip, then shut the folder and jumbled all the coins up together.

“Yes, I’m free,” she said with the same fake carefree tone, this time obviously covering up an opposite array of emotions.

“That’s settled then.” She grinned wider and stood up from the table. “Though before we’re worryin’ too much about the next date, let’s finish this’n. Fancy a walk in the park?”

Twilight followed Applejack away from the café and they walked together in comfortable silence. They crossed the town square in the opposite direction they came, out past the fountain and into the paths winding through the park just south of town. Twilight felt the sun beating down on her mane and warming her wings, and the air was filled with the rich, earthy smell of summer.

“This is nice,” she muttered. “I don’t come out here often enough.”

“Eeyup, I hear ya. Amazin’ how many bugs ya can hear when you’re not haulin’ a cart.”

She smiled and swiveled her ears, picking up the ebb and flow buzzing of a cicada, mixed in with the constant hum of the bees flying through the flowerbeds. “I don’t remember it being this peaceful here.”

“That’s ‘cause we usually got all the pets with us.”

Twilight giggled and nodded. “Yeah, and that’s sort of the definitional opposite of peaceful.”

The path forked and they came across a cart vender selling ice cream. Twilight flashed Applejack a warning look and stepped up to the cart first. “What would you like, Applejack?”

Applejack smiled mischievously and fell into place behind her. “Okay, but this means I’m payin’ for dinner tomorrow.”

“I’ll fight you for the bill. Now come on, what would you like.”

“Always been partial to rocky road.”

Twilight nodded in victory and got Applejack’s ice cream and a scoop of mint pistachio for herself. She floated her cone in front of her face and continued down the path. She stopped and looked back when Applejack didn’t follow.

Applejack held her cone precariously in the crook of a foreleg and inched along the path, looking back and forth from her footing to the ice cream threatening to splat to the ground. Twilight bit her lip.

“Umm, how about we sit for a while,” she offered, and crossed over to a park bench.

Applejack gave her a grateful look, then maneuvered carefully to sit down. She held her ice cream between both hooves and let out a breath of relief. “That’s better. Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Twilight giggled. She took a slurp of her ice cream and sat down on the bench. “I forget about things like that sometimes.”

Applejack flashed a smile and dug into her cone. “Must be nice forgettin’ that.”

“It has its tradeoffs. I’d bet you five bits that if I tried to hold an ice cream cone in one hoof, it would end up with the ice cream on the ground and the cone on my horn.”

Applejack laughed. “Yeah, right.”

“It’s happened before.” She hid her face with a gulp of ice cream and looked out across the park. A group of foals off in the distance ran back and forth in a spirited game of tag, while a small filly threw a frisbee for her dog. The shouts and barks carried across the park just loud enough for Twilight to hear them, adding a pleasant, bouncy melody to the rhythm of the bug buzzing. She let out a sigh of contentment and settled back against the bench.

Applejack’s hoof slid over her fetlock. She rolled her leg around and held Applejack’s back.

“Mm.” Applejack crunched into the cone. “Thanks for the ice cream, Twi.”

“Thanks for lunch, AJ.”

Applejack chuckled and scooted back into the bench, bringing them shoulder to shoulder. Twilight hesitated for a moment, then leaned into it, resting her head against Applejack’s. Applejack took her hoof back and wrapped it around Twilight’s shoulders.

Twilight felt her heart racing. Nothing in the day had gone quite like she’d expected it would, and there was a delirious, giddy sense of freedom and unknown wrapped up in it. They hadn’t even done anything that special, and yet her hooves were shaky. She felt Applejack’s head turn, and she matched the movement, sharing a smile, feeling Applejack’s breath on her muzzle, smelling a hint of chocolate. She closed her eyes. Their lips met.

A searing flash of light exploded in front of her eyelids.

Energy rushed out around her, enveloping her, making the hairs of her coat stand on end. The muscles in her legs seized up, and she felt Applejack flinch against her. The crackle of magic drowned out the sounds of the park, and the warmth of the wooden bench planks vanished as she and Applejack lifted up off the ground, floating in the air, the whine of magic growing louder and stronger.

Twilight opened her eyes into the blinding light. In the haze, a flurry of images rushed past her mind, faster than she could process, but clear and sharp. Dozens, hundreds, thousands, all playing out at once, the sights and sounds and smells melding together one on top of the other, all vying for attention, and all burning themselves into Twilight’s mind at the same time.

She saw Big Macintosh, smaller and lankier than she’d ever seen him before, putting a bandage over a cut on her gaskin. Her orange gaskin. She could see freckles on her muzzle in the corner of her eye. She brushed her blonde mane out of her face and sniffed. “Thanks, big bro, it feels better already,” she said.

She saw Applejack smiling with her mane done up in a Prench braid, a dark, satin sport coat picking glints of the setting sun, with her hoof raised up, holding Twilight’s. Applejack said, “I do.”

She saw her mom holding Apple Bloom in her arms, swaddled in a blanket. “AJ, don’t be scared, come meet your little sister …”

She saw an old barn, set back and away from Sweet Apple Acre’s main buildings, transformed into a farmhouse, first in bits and pieces fueled by blood and sweat, then shiny and new, then warm with age and use, the garden around the front porch growing stronger and wild with year after passing year.

She saw Applejack’s shy coquettish expression as Twilight led her down the hall of her castle, past the thrones and kitchens, back to her bedroom.

She saw the apple orchard sprawling out in front of her in the dying light of the evening, lit up in tiny flashes by thousands of fireflies, until her attention was stolen by Applejack taking her hoof, bending down, and opening a small box. The rush of happiness blurred the image around the edges until all she could make out from it was her own voice, shouting “Yes!”

She saw the orchard come into view closer and closer as she ran, following the rainbow through the sky as it guided her home, felt her lungs burn from the effort. Granny and Big Mac were waiting for her. She jumped into their hooves.

She saw her hoof hanging off the side of a rocking chair, with Applejack’s own hoof holding tight, rocking in unison with her. Applejack’s face was lined with wrinkles. Her own hoof was knobby and weakened by time.

She felt herself pushed in a swing, a swing somewhere off in the same park they were in, catching Applejack in glimpses as she was caught and pushed again, giggling at the novelty. Applejack caught hold of the swing and didn’t let go. Twilight raised an eyebrow then felt herself hugged around the middle from behind. “I love you,” Applejack whispered. She turned halfway on the swing and returned the embrace.

She saw Twilight Sparkle at the end of her hooves, dangling off the side of a cliff, with Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy hovering in the air. She said, “Trust me.” Twilight opened her eyes. Then she let go.

She saw more, so much more. She saw fights and warmth, sadness, and joy, boredom and comfort, as years and years of images etched themselves into her memory. The blinding shine of magic faded around her and the blurry shape of Applejack swam back into her vision as their hooves touched down on the soft ground of the path. Her horn spat a series of hissing sparks as they fell apart, panting and shaky.

Applejack shook her head and rubbed her face. “Twilight, what was—?”

Twilight didn’t hear the rest of the question. She turned around and ran.

Part 2

Applejack rubbed her eyes again and was struck by another dizzy spell. She staggered and kept herself on all fours, then took a deep breath and tried to focus on the castle door in front of her.

She rested her hoof on the handle and winced, weighing options in her head. She shook her head to clear it, drew herself up straight, and knocked.

A moment later, it popped open a crack, and Spike poked out around the frame, digging his claws into the crystal. “Oh!” He let out a breath and relaxed. “It’s you. Hi, Applejack.”

“Uh, hi?”

“Sorry, Twilight just … I don’t know, I thought maybe a monster was coming or something.” He glanced back over his shoulder with a frown. “Did something happen?”

Applejack sighed and looked down. “Yeah, somethin’ happened. I gotta talk to Twilight about it.”

Spike opened the door further, then stopped and narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute, you’re not a rogue changeling pretending to be Applejack, are you?”

Applejack gave him a flat look.

“It’s a reasonable question! Tell me something only the real Applejack would know.”

She frowned and cocked her head to the side. “Uh … one time you thought I saved your life, and ‘cause of the dragon code or somethin’ you tried to be my butler.”

“That’s not something only Applejack would know, everypony knows about that.” He frowned. “And I wasn’t being your butler, I was being an assistant!”

Applejack rubbed her forehead and sighed. “Spike, I got a headache.”

“You certainly sound grumpy like a changeling.”

She muttered under her breath and straightened up. She knew the song and dance, no matter what she said would probably be open to doubt, and the easiest thing to do would be to get Twilight to confirm who she was, but she suspected it would be better to talk things out with Twilight one on one before anything else happened. She racked her brain trying to remember something personal and quiet enough that it would dispel any doubt from Spike’s mind.

The words came out of her mouth without her thinking about them. “Back when you were real young, like when you were first learnin’ to talk, one night there was a real bad thunderstorm. You got scared, and Twilight ended up readin’ you all of Burnferno, Warrior from Within ‘til you fell asleep.”

Spike’s eyebrows shot up and dots of pink rose on his cheeks. The door swung open the rest of the way. “But … how did …” He knit his brow and crossed his arms over his chest. “Ugh, Twilight, not cool.”

Applejack grimaced and stepped inside the castle, past Spike and weaving back towards Twilight’s room. “Don’t worry,” she murmured, “Nopony’s spreadin’ gossip about you. Twilight didn’t tell me about that happenin’ …” She sped up her walk, leaving Spike standing at the door in a fog of confusion. “You ain’t the only one,” she said to herself.

At the end of the hall, she raised her hoof and hesitated again, just in front of the door. She could hear rustling and groans through the crystal, faint but constant. She chewed her lip, then steeled herself and knocked.

“I’m okay, Spike,” Twilight said with creaky misery through the door. “Just give me some time to myself.”

“Twilight?”

The rustling stopped and silence emanated from the door, so stifling Applejack found herself holding her breath. The clack of hoofsteps on the stone floor filtered through, slow and steady, and the door opened.

“… Hi,” Twilight said.

“Uh, hi.” Applejack swallowed the lump in her throat and shuffled back and forth on her hooves. “Can, uh … we talk?”

Twilight had bags under her bloodshot eyes, and her mane was kinked and messy, but she kept her gaze level and steady on Applejack. She stepped back from the door and let it swing open, then turned around and clacked back across the floor, climbed into bed, and disappeared under a pile of pillows.

Applejack stood at the threshold blinking for a few moments, then entered the room and clicked the door shut behind her. She stood at the doorway, watching the mass of pillows rise and fall with Twilight’s breaths. She cleared her throat. “So, uh …”

“Sorry,” Twilight said, muffled through her cocoon. “I shouldn’t have just … run. That wasn’t fair after … it … happened.”

“That’s alright.” Applejack shuffled her hooves on the floor. “What, uh … was the ‘it’ that happened?”

The steady rise and fall stopped, and Twilight’s head emerged from the pile, with a yellow paisley-patterned throw pillow still drooping on her head. “You mean … you don’t know?”

“Should I know?” Applejack frowned in concern, then sat down on her haunches. “I mean … we were there in the park, and then it was like … somethin’ picked us up and, like, started fillin’ up my head with stuff.” She shook her head as another bout of dizziness pinched her between the eyes. “A whole lotta stuff. I can barely think straight.”

Twilight gave her a guarded look and didn’t say anything for a few moments. She brushed the pillow off her head and looked away at the wall. “It was a, uh … rare involuntary thaumaturgical reaction.”

Applejack stared at her.

Twilight glanced sidelong, then back at the wall. She chewed her lip. “You really don’t know what it was?”

“Not unless all that gobbledygook you said stands for somethin’ else.”

Twilight flattened her ears and sighed. “The real name for it is an attunement. It’s the byproduct of something called individual magical field affinity …” She sunk down until she was up to her chin in pillows. “It has the nickname with school fillies of … True Love’s Kiss.” She closed her eyes in a grimace and sunk her muzzle into the pillows.

Applejack crinkled her snout and raised an eyebrow. “True Love’s Kiss?” she stuck her tongue out. “Sounds like somethin’ out of a book’a fairy tales.”

Twilight rose back up. “So you really don’t know?”

“Twilight,” Applejack said with a sigh, “I ain’t got one dang clue about whatever the heck you’re talkin’ about. All I know is I’m tired, my head hurts, and it feels like somepony else’s been running around in my memories and shovin’ in a bunch of stuff ‘til it feels like my skull’s gonna crack open. Is that goofy name s’posed to be a joke, like when ya meet a body-builder pony named ‘Tiny’?”

Twilight shifted back and forth on the bed, and pillows tumbled away around her until her top half was uncovered, and she trained the guarded look back on Applejack. “Maybe it’s just something unicorn fillies talk about. I’m not sure how common it is with other tribes. It certainly isn’t common for unicorns …” Applejack huffed, and opened her mouth, but Twilight raised a hoof. “Okay, okay, I’ll explain it to you.”

Twilight straightened up and the rest of the pillows fell away from around her. “Okay, so, let’s start with individual magical field affinity.” She took a breath and patted her mane down flat, her voice strengthening and evening out into what Applejack thought of as Twilight’s lecture voice.

“Hold on, I know that tone,” Applejack interrupted. She stood back up, grabbed a chair from Twilight’s desk, and dragged it over to the bed. She sat down and leaned against the backrest. “Okay, that’s better.”

The corner of Twilight’s mouth curved up in a smile and she shook her head. “Do you want something to drink first?” Applejack chuckled and shook her head. “Anyway, individual magical field affinity is a rare phenomenon between ponies, where their magical fields …” Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized Applejack, then she waved her hooves in explanation. “Basically, a pony’s personal magic. It’s more or less the part of us that Lord Tirek stole.”

“I’m followin’.”

Twilight nodded. “Sometimes two ponies have magical fields that are very similar.” She shuffled her hooves on the bed. “Very, very similar. Almost identical.”

“Alright,” Applejack said. “When ya say ‘sometimes,’ how often’re we talkin’?”

Twilight sighed. “Honestly? Very, very rarely. There have been five confirmed cases of individual magical field affinity.” She chewed her lip. “In two thousand years.”

Applejack blinked.

“There are lot of stories about it happening more often, but it’s hard to know how many of those are true, and how many are, well … fairy tales.” She shrugged. “Magical fields vary a lot from pony to pony, and they change over the course of a pony’s life. The odds of it happening, and two ponies finding out about it are incredibly unlikely.”

Applejack rubbed her chin and frowned. “And the way they’d find out about it is that attunement thing?”

Twilight nodded. “Attunement is a spontaneous involuntary thaumaturgical reaction …” she smiled guiltily at Applejack’s flat look. “A random magical event that occurs when two ponies with magical field affinity share a moment of … emotional vulnerability.”

Trying her best not to glare, Applejack took a steadying breath. “Ya mean they kiss?”

She sighed and raised her hooves up helplessly. “Yes, a kiss would count, but it doesn’t have to be a kiss, just something like a kiss, when they both have their guards down together.”

“In them five cases you were talking about, any of ‘em not a kiss?”

“… No.”

Applejack grinned.

“But theoretically they could—this doesn’t matter.” She rubbed her forehead.

Applejack struggled to keep from chuckling. Twilight cracked first and covered her face to muffle her giggles, and Applejack joined in. After they both reined themselves back in, Applejack said, “Sorry.”

“No, no, that was good.” She patted her mane down again. “Anyway, attunement happens when the two ponies with affinity kiss—”

“Or somethin’ like it,” Applejack offered with a crooked smile.

“Don’t you start.” She grinned. “So they kiss, and because of the closeness and vulnerability, and because their magical fields are so similar, their fields sort of … merge.” She gestured for emphasis, bringing her hooves together. “They combine into one field for a few moments and … share some things, then separate again.”

Applejack smile drifted away and she touched the side of her throbbing temple. “Sharin’ things. Like what sorta things?”

Twilight hesitated. She pawed at her bedspread and looked to and from Applejack for a few moments, before shrinking down and into her neck. “Memories, for one.”

“Memories.” Applejack raised her eyebrows. “These’re your memories in my head?”

“Some of them.” She shifted her weight back and forth. “Can’t, uh … can’t you tell?”

Applejack grimaced and leaned back in the chair. “I can’t make heads’r tails of any of it.” She squeezed her eyes shut and a muddy wash of images, sounds, and smells flooded her head. She gripped the edge of the chair to keep from tumbling over sideways. “Urgh. It’s all just a bunch of noise.”

“Hmm.” Twilight frowned and tapped her chin. “Interesting …”

“Can you make any sense of it?”

Twilight blinked, then lowered her gaze away from Applejack, her cheeks turning red. “… Yes,” she said, her voice small. “I’m sorry.”

Raising a brow, Applejack shrugged and shook her head. “How come I can’t?”

“I’m … not sure,” Twilight said, sitting back up and regaining strength in her tone. “It might have to do with you being an earth pony. All of the confirmed attunements were between two unicorns. There hasn’t been one between a unicorn and a different tribe before. Or an alicorn and a different tribe, anyway.” Her wings twitched, then she rubbed her cheek and looked at Applejack in thought. “If I’m understanding right, you have new memories in your head, I think, but you aren’t able to sort them out all the way. Does that sound like what’s happening?”

“I guess so.” Applejack closed her eyes and concentrated again, then winced. “It’s like … my head’s tryin’ to be a movie, and everything’s playin’ all at once.”

“Is there anything specific you can remember?”

Her grimace deepened as she thought. “Lotta things. I can sorta watch Shining Armor grow up all at once. And Spike.” She opened her eyes and frowned. “Spike asked me a question before I came in, and you readin’ him a book when he was little ‘n scared of the lightin’ popped into my head.”

Twilight nodded vaguely, still rubbing her mouth. “I think it might just be a lack of familiarity. Memorizing and using spells with unicorn magic makes you compartmentalize your head, because it’s impossible to forget a spell. It just stays active inside your head at all times, kind of like you’re always casting it.”

Applejack looked at her with an eyebrow raised and scratched her neck.

“Sorry, I’m sure that didn’t help explain anything.” She huffed and shifted side to side with her brow knit. “What I mean is that for unicorns, it’s like several things are happening all at once inside their heads, but they can put everything in order and have it make sense. It’s a little overwhelming at first.”

“Tell me about it.”

Twilight smiled faintly. “You should start adapting to it soon, I think. You received a lot of my memories all at once, but those memories have an order to them, they happened one after another after all. When something comes clear and lets you focus on it, you’ll probably know when it happened and it won’t be part of the things that are playing all at once anymore, and once you’ve had a chance to rest and sleep, your mind should start putting everything else in order automatically. But I can help you work through it with some meditation exercises if you still have trouble.”

Applejack grimaced as a wave of dizziness hit her. “Anything quick you could walk me through right now?”

Twilight frowned for a moment, then sat up straight. “Close your eyes.” Applejack heard Twilight clear her throat. “Umm … try to think about when you were really young, back to some of your first memories. Something clear, I mean, something that you tend to think about from that time.”

“Mmkay,” Applejack said. The clotted ball of new memories felt like it took up all of her mind’s eye, and it was a monumental effort of willpower just to pull away from it. She forced herself to focus, back to when she was three or four, to the time when she’d fallen off a tire swing and skinned her leg up really badly. The memory had stayed sharp with her for years.

It was the first time she’d really felt something that hurt, and after Big Mac had given her a kiss on the forehead, cleaned up her cut, and stuck a band aid on it, it was the first time she’d really appreciated how kind he was. She’d known he was kind before but had taken it for granted as just a law of the universe. Until after it happened, she didn’t understand that he didn’t have to act that way, but chose to anyway because he was her big brother and he loved her.

Twilight’s voice floated over the memory as she held it in her mind. “Got one?” She nodded. “Okay, now …” Twilight’s tone grew uncomfortable and hinted with embarrassment. “… Remember the time Shining Armor gave me a bath, and made himself a bubble beard?”

The image shot to the forefront of Applejack’s mind, and the powerful wave of delight from the memory forced a smile on her face. She … Twilight was laughing to the point of crying as Shining smeared the bubbles on his face into a thick, old stallion’s beard, and dotted on some bushy, sudsy eyebrows. “Shiny!” Twilight shouted in her memory, “Stop it!”

Applejack chuckled and cleared her throat. “Earliest thing you think of’s got your brother in it, too, I guess.”

“Big brothers are like that.” The embarrassment left her voice. “Now, that memory should feel like it happened right around the same time as yours, right?”

Applejack nodded vaguely. She took a mental step back and saw how it fit into a half-formed timeline in her head. “Feels like … maybe a li’l bit after mine.” She knit her brow. “But … only sorta like it happened to me. Like it’s a dream or somethin’. Or … side by side with the things that happened to me.”

“Perfect,” Twilight said. “That’s a great way to think about it, side by side memories. Now, on that side, on my side, there are going to be things that happen one after another, the same way as on your side, right? Try thinking about what happened after that. Not in any real detail, just what the next important thing that happened after that would be.”

Applejack frowned and another memory popped into place, looking through Twilight’s eyes at the big, thick book mom had plopped down in front of her. She remembered the awe and delight at how big and heavy it was, and a cascade of time passing as she read her way through it. Followed by a visit to the park with Shining and her parents, and then more and more as she watched Shining Armor grow up in front of her, and then Spike after her childhood home switched to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. In the flash of a few moments, she felt her headache recede to a dull throb as the side by side timeline filled itself in. It wasn’t complete by any stretch, and she still had a big, angry wad of eye-searing memories pushing for her attention, but when she looked back at Twilight, she let out a breath of relief.

“Better?” Twilight asked.

“A lot. Ain’t done, but I can think again, I think.”

Twilight smiled and nodded. “You’ll probably keep sorting things out without trying now. And getting some sleep should help, too. Focusing on specific events or objects, and making connections to other, related things will help trigger you to think about anything that’s left after that.”

Applejack nodded and rubbed her temple. She shifted on her seat, staring off at the wall. “There’s … other stuff, too, stuff that can’t be memories.” She looked back at Twilight, feeling warmth rise in her face. “’Less, uh, you remember bein’ in a weddin’ dress and cryin’.”

Twilight let out a slow breath and shook her head. “That’s the other thing that happens during an attunement.” She rubbed her shoulder. “They say that attunement gives you a look into the future. You share memories of your time together, even if that time hasn’t happened yet. Years of it. Decades.” Applejack watched her jaw flex as she stared out the window.

Applejack knit her brow. “They say?”

“School fillies, mostly.” She sighed and crossed her hooves over her stomach. “The unicorns who’ve studied attunement and field affinity don’t have a lot to say about it. There isn’t enough material to study.” She turned back to Applejack, drawing herself up straight again. “It’d be almost impossible to go looking for two ponies who have an affinity, even if you had a way to compare magical fields against each other, which nopony has been able to do well enough to be useful. You can’t make an attunement happen. It just … happens. About five times in every two thousand years.” Her voice lowered and softened. “… Six.”

“… So that was really our weddin’?”

“You had your mane in a Prench braid. It looked nice.” Twilight pawed at the blankets. “But no. It wasn’t our wedding.”

Applejack cocked her head to the side. “But—”

“It can’t be our wedding, because we’ve seen it. In the memory, do you remember remembering it now and expecting it? Was that look on your face when I lifted the veil just you acting, because you knew you were supposed to look that way?”

As Twilight talked, the cacophony in her head quieted, and she could picture the wedding again, clear and strong, like it had happened the day before. She could smell autumn on the air, a musky dryness of fallen leaves and hickory. The murmur of the crowd hummed around her as the music drifted through the field, but she couldn’t pay it any mind if she’d tried, she only had eyes for Twilight, shining in the sunlight, glowing in white.

And Twilight raised her veil. And Applejack’s breath had been taken away.

Applejack let out a shaky sigh and shook her head. “No. I wasn’t fakin’.”

“How is it supposed to happen that way, if you can see it now?” A creaking quality invaded Twilight’s voice, something weighty and tired, colored by bitterness. “Maybe the attunement shows a future, but it can’t be the future, because that future changes after we’ve seen it. This, this conversation we’re having right now, it isn’t in those memories. And I remember what happened after our first kiss.”

Applejack straightened up in her chair and stared off into space. “… Yeah. I walked ya back home. You had your wing over my back.”

“I said thank you for lunch.”

“And I said thank you for the ice cream.” Applejack smiled for a moment, then shook her head. “And you said we’d see each other for dinner tomorrow …”

“… And I kissed you again.” They sat in silence for a while, staring off in different directions. Twilight breathed in slowly and let out a long, belabored breath. “And none of that happened. I ran away instead.”

Applejack studied Twilight for several moments. “You, uh … wanna talk about that?”

Twilight shied back and grimaced, then lowered herself closer to the bed and started piling pillows back up around herself.

Cracking a smile, Applejack shook her head. “Twi, you know I ain’t angry or nothin’, I didn’t know what any of this was ‘til you told me about it. Look at me.”

Twilight raised her head, her expression a mix of worry and shame.

“Is there anything in all them memories that makes ya think I’m gonna be cross?”

“… No,” Twilight forced out. Her jaw flexed a few times and she screwed her eyes shut, slapping her hoof on a pillow. “I’m the one who’s angry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This is what those other fillies wanted, why did it happen to me!?” She smacked the bed again and turned away from Applejack, hunched down and huffing. “It isn’t fair …”

Applejack felt confusion and concern argue over control, and she stood up from the chair. She slid onto the bed and hugged Twilight around the shoulders. Twilight relaxed into the embrace, resting her head in the hollow of Applejack’s neck.

A wave of nostalgia and vertigo fell over Applejack. She had dozens, hundreds of memories holding Twilight in the exact same way, through moments of loss and sadness, and moments of comfort and relaxation. She’d memorized every curve of Twilight pressed into her, the way her hoof settled against Twilight’s chest, the way Twilight stroked her fetlock absentmindedly.

And she’d never held Twilight like that before.

Twilight nuzzled her neck. “… This isn’t about you, AJ. Everypo … Every unicorn filly grows up hearing about True Love’s Kiss and daydreaming about meeting their ‘prince’ and having a ‘happily ever after,’ just like it’s a fairy tale. Every filly except me.”

Applejack nodded, feeling Twilight stroke her hoof, just on cue.

“They all thought it sounded so romantic. I thought it sounded … perverse. Obscene. You and this other pony share your first real moment together, and suddenly you’ve taken all their memories, and they’ve taken yours, and neither of you get to say no. It’s like reading someone’s private diary and finding out they’ve read yours, all at once, and nopony has a choice.” Her voice turned to a whisper. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have looked at your memories if I could help it.”

“I wouldn’t have looked at yours,” Applejack said.

Twilight nodded in the embrace and squeezed Applejack’s hoof. She took a deep breath, her voice getting stronger and bitter again. “And then there’s the great, storybook future.” She snorted. “The future that’s a lie. A lie.” Applejack could hear Twilight’s teeth grinding. “It has to be a lie, because otherwise … how does …” She squeezed Applejack’s hoof again, her voice breaking. “How does anypony make a choice?”

Applejack frowned. “What choice?”

“Ponies have to make choices for themselves. They have to choose what they do with their lives, how they live them, and …” she turned her head and caught Applejack’s eye. “And who they love.” Applejack blinked as an image floated across her mind of her pushing a swing in the park. Twilight slipped forward, out of the embrace, and turned around on the bed until she sat face to face with Applejack. “And if in the flash of one little kiss, the future is already set, how can anypony choose what they do?”

Her frown deepening, Applejack rubbed her neck and looked away. “I still ain’t got a clear look at all of those memories in my head, but what I can see …” She closed her eyes. The image Twilight had brought to mind jumped forward in the hazy mass of new memories, and Applejack remembered the summer sun baking her back as she pushed Twilight in the stupid swing for foals, both of them laughing together, her heart racing like she was having the most fun in all of Equestria. She remembered catching Twilight, holding her, whispering into her ear what she knew in her heart.

Applejack opened her eyes again. “What I can see … if them things were happening … I wouldn’t make a different choice.” She glanced away from Twilight. “Maybe not with everythin’, but with all the important things.”

Twilight sat quiet for a few minutes, gradually drawing in closer around herself, hugging her middle and looking down. “… Maybe you’re right. Maybe it is a future we saw. A future. One that was possible for us to have, with us choosing to make all the same choices, because those were the choices we wanted to pick. And if that’s the truth … then it was robbed from us.”

Applejack cocked her head to the side. “Robbed from us?”

“It’s already different.” Twilight let out a long breath and shrunk down, bowing her head. “The date didn’t end the same way. And even if we went outside right now, agreed on dinner tomorrow, and kissed each other good night, that future will never happen. It can’t. We’ve already seen it happen.” Twilight’s frown deepened and she gave Applejack a guarded, wary look. “Do you remember … the night when you propose to me?”

Applejack sucked in a breath. She could smell the earthy warmth of the orchard. “Yes.”

“It was a Sunday. We were having a picnic.”

“I picked it ‘cause the lightnin’ bugs were gonna be out. Thought my head was gonna explode waitin’ for just the right moment to ask.”

“I knew something was on your mind, but you still caught me by surprise. It took me a long time to stop crying enough to kiss you.” The hint of nostalgia faded from her expression. “Do you think it would happen the same way now?”

Applejack shuffled her hooves on the bed. “The, uh … surprise is kinda ruined.”

Twilight didn’t say anything.

Applejack lifted her head and shrugged. “So … it ain’t real. Maybe it might’a been real. But it ain’t.”

Twilight nodded.

“That’s … kinda cruel a trick for magic to be playin’ on ponies, but … they’re awful nice memories.” She shrugged and smiled wanly. “S’pose I can get used to ‘em bein’ there. Maybe even think of ‘em as a present.”

Knitting her brow, Twilight hunched forward. “A present? What do you mean?”

“Not everypony’s got a chance to see a whole ‘nother life they could’a had. Heck, did have, in a way.” She winced and rubbed her forehead. “Still all jumbled up for me, but it sure feels like there’s a lot of ‘em there, and to be honest, I’m rememberin’ them clearer than a lotta my own memories from when I was a filly. Maybe that’s ‘cause they’re all so new for me. Either which way, it’s like I’m startin’ over again right now, and can live my life another time.”

Twilight’s frown deepened, and she played with her bedspread in thought. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but … aren’t you … worried that it won’t turn out the same as the first time?” Her cheeks colored. “They are awfully nice memories.”

“It won’t turn out the same, but I’m still the same pony I was this mornin’.” She frowned and glared. “Would’a hoped I’d feel a bit older’n wiser with couple more decades a’memories in my head, but I guess I’m too bullheaded ‘n stubborn for that.”

Twilight giggled lightly. “I’m not sure it works that way.”

She shrugged. “If it don’t, then maybe all’a that future stuff we saw is s’posed to fade away after a while, ‘n we go on with our lives without it. Those other ponies that got attuned have anythin’ to say about that?”

“Not really.” She frowned in thought and rubbed her chin. “It’s happened so rarely, there hasn’t been any major research work done on the phenomenon. Most of the interviews are from right after it happened. One couple was checked up on a few years later, but all the research was about their individual magical fields.”

“They were together, though.”

“I suppose they were.”

Applejack shrugged. “I’m sure anypony goin’ though this would’a noticed real quick that they were livin’ the same life over again, except without no surprises. If they didn’t go bonkers from it, it must not be all that bad movin’ on from the future vision stuff.”

Sighing, Twilight rubbed her neck. “I don’t know. Maybe it is easy to move past.” Her tone lowered. “Maybe it’s inevitable.”

Applejack studied Twilight’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Maybe it’s inevitable,” she repeated, her face reddening, “that we end up together.”

Applejack’s pulse rocketed up into her throat. She carefully controlled her breathing, keeping her tone of voice light and neutral. “…Do you not wanna end up together?”

“… I don’t know.”

Applejack shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

“Th-that isn’t a no,” Twilight added, pawing at the blankets. “It’s complicated.”

“Yeah,” Applejack said, not sure where to look. “This stuff’s always pretty dang complicated …”

“I’ve liked you for a really long time. I’ve thought about it … y … you probably already know how long I’ve thought about it.”

A flurry of memories passed through Applejack’s head, recounting a hundred little moments she’d had with Twilight over years, from a different angle than she remembered and tinged with a hint of desire and nerves. She cracked a smile despite herself. “I hope I ain’t that scary, Twi.”

Twilight chuckled low. “You aren’t, I just always thought about it but didn’t act. Do you know why I asked you out today?”

Applejack rubbed her cheek as she looked away. “You told me already, you got that letter from that filly.”

“That’s what prompted me to do it, but do you know why in general? Did I ever tell you in the, uh, future?”

Applejack frowned and closed her eyes. The mass of memories stayed murky and painful to imagine. She flinched and shook her head. “Nothin’s comin’ to mind.”

“It was because of Queen Chrysalis.”

Applejack knit her brow and looked back at Twilight in confusion.

“Well, it was a lot of things, really, but she was what I’ve been focused on.” Twilight sighed and shifted back and forth, wrapping herself up again in a defensive huddle. “She’d won. She beat us, trapped us. If it wasn’t for Starlight, Trixie, or Discord we would’ve …” She sighed again. “They were there, and we did get out just like always, but this keeps happening to us, and no matter how many times we pull through, there’s always the chance that next time …”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Applejack nodded. “I know, Twi. Trust me.”

Twilight let the silence hang over them for a moment, then continued, turning away and hugging herself tighter. “Since then, all I’ve been able to think about is if that next time came, and I never said anything to you. If I never even tried. If that was it, and things would end, and I wouldn’t have even tried to have anything as normal as a date in my life.” She looked sideways at Applejack. “It, uh … still took a while to work up the courage to say anything after that.”

“Ain’t gonna begrudge you that.” The corner of her mouth twitched up. “Though if what I heard about it was right, Starlight dang near destroyed the world between now ‘n then messin’ with the princesses’ cutie marks.”

Twilight huffed and covered her eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

“And Spike might’a started a war between Thorax ‘n Ember …”

Twilight giggled and shook her head. “You understand why I wanted something normal for once, right?” She straightened up again. “This was supposed to be a date. We’d go out, have a good time together, or a bad time together, or a whatever time together, then decide if we wanted to do it again, and just … go from there. Like normal ponies do. Instead …” She raised her hooves in the air and dropped them lifelessly into her lap. “Instead it’s just like everything else that happens to us.”

“Crazy, full’a magic, and more complicated than it has any right to be?”

“Right!?” Twilight cracked a smile, then started giggling. Applejack joined in. They trailed off and looked at each other, still smiling and with part of the tension broken. Twilight shrugged. “It isn’t that I don’t want to end up with you, I just wanted to find out if we did. Not be told by a magic kiss that it was fate.”

Applejack nodded and scooted back on the bed, until she bumped up against a post and could lean against it. “I see what you’re sayin’. When I said yes, it wasn’t like I was plannin’ on buyin’ curtains that match your eyes. I ain’t even been holdin’ onto a bunch’a feelin’s the way you’ve been, neither. Seein’ how it goes and goin’ from there was all I was thinkin’ about, too.”

Twilight smiled faintly, then stared off in the distance for a moment, her gaze unfocused. The smile turned to the ghost of a frown. “… Why did you say yes?”

Applejack regarded Twilight for a moment, then snorted and shook her head. “I said yes, ‘cause I like you, and I reckoned goin’ on a date and seein’ how it goes and goin’ from there sounded like a good idea. But I’m guessin’ that’s not what you meant.” Her smile widened. “Tryin’ to remember when I first got feelin’s for you?”

A look of guilt crossed Twilight’s expression. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be looking through your memories …”

Applejack waved her off with a hoof. “I’m just jokin’, Twi, it ain’t a big deal.” She leaned against the bedpost and stretched out her back. “Truth is, I’ve always thought you were dang cute.”

Twilight’s cheeks colored and she rolled her eyes.

“No lyin’, Twi, the moment you stepped on the farm, checkin’ on the food for the Summer Sun Celebration, first thought through my head was, ‘Now ain’t that the cutest dang mare you ever did see?’” She grinned as Twilight’s blush deepened. “Kept that thought to myself, seein’ as you were doin’ your job and all. Did try and get on your good side with my cookin’.”

Twilight laughed lightly. “It worked, I just ate too much.”

“Never fails. But then Nightmare Moon came back, and I got to know you for real, and you moved here and everything just started happenin’.” She shrugged. “I ain’t sayin’ I stopped thinkin’ you were cute, or when I got to know ya I didn’t think I’d like datin’ you or nothin’. You’d just … moved into a place in my life where I wasn’t thinkin’ about that stuff, if that makes sense.”

“It does, I think.”

“’Course, when ya asked me this mornin’, and I said yes ‘cause I like you and I reckoned goin’ on a date would be somethin’ worth doin’, I found out I was awful happy about you askin’ me. And when I kissed you and this whole mess happened, there were a whole lotta nice feelin’s going through my head.” Pink returned to Twilight’s cheeks. “And if we’re usin’ them future memories, I was just about head over hooves for you after the fifth date.”

Twilight shuffled uncomfortably. “I’m not sure we should count that. We know those things aren’t going to happen the way we remember them.”

“Well, then, if it don’t count, then that kiss sure as heck wasn’t fate tellin’ us nothin’. If it ain’t real, then it’s no better’n daydreaming about what could happen.”

Twilight’s mouth smoothed out to a thin line as she stared at the wall, before turning to look at Applejack. “…I guess it isn’t.” She kneaded her bed and lowered her head. “ I guess they could be something like … a vision of a different life. It just feels so … cruel. That’s the word you used, and it’s the right one. It’s cruel.”

Applejack watched Twilight pull and smooth the blanket for a moment, then slid across the bed, turning sideways until she jutted her shoulder up against Twilight’s. “Y’know … it’s only cruel if’n the lives we have afterwards ain’t as good as the memories. And it ain’t up to anypony else what sorta lives we have. Just us.”

Twilight pressed into Applejack’s shoulder until they rested their heads against each other. “Unless the next thing that rises up out of the shadows to try and destroy Equestria actually manages it. We can’t control that.”

Applejack frowned, then shrugged against Twilight. “Nah, guess we can’t, but that don’t happen far as I remember. I can’t picture somethin’ even tryin’.” She chuckled. “Guess that’s how ya know for sure them memories are full’a bull.”

Twilight snorted, then giggled against her, pressing in closer. “It’s very upsetting how right you are.”

As Twilight leaned in, she felt a hoof encircle hers, and a wing spread over her back. The little chuckles died away and Twilight’s head turned towards her. She followed the gaze and their muzzles touched. Their lips met again.

A lack of fireworks wasn’t the only thing different between their first two kisses. The first had been prim and uncertain, a probe for confirmation on shaky ground. The second came with a wealth of familiarity and comfort, an entire life’s worth bundled together, sure-footed, confident, and totally natural. They broke apart with their foreheads pressed together.

Applejack steadied her breathing as she rested against Twilight, her eyes closed and heart pounding. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and whispered. “Whatever you wanna do, whatever you want this to be, I’ll trust it, Twilight. We made some pretty good choices in that pretend other life. I bet we’ll make some good ones another time around, too.”

Twilight’s breath hitched. She slipped to the side and pressed into Applejack’s neck, burying her face. Applejack hugged her as she started crying, in silence but with heaving shudders. She wrapped her hooves around Applejack and squeezed tight.

Applejack nuzzled the top of her mane and rubbed her back in circles.

“It’s not fair,” Twilight mumbled into her neck. “Why did this have to happen? Why couldn’t I have just not known, gone out with you a few more times, and end up falling in love with you in the end? Why couldn’t I have that?” She pulled back and searched Applejack’s face, her eyes red and cheeks matted. “Why did it take that away from us?”

Applejack’s heart thundered and she pinned her ears flat to her head. She pressed their foreheads together again and closed her eyes. “…Would’a been nice if I could’a told you on that swing, huh?” She felt Twilight run a hoof through her mane. “You’re feelin’ it, too, I guess.”

Twilight nodded against her. “I don’t know how I couldn’t. I feel like I’ve spent fifty years of my life feeling that way. It’s nice to say that it’s all just a daydream, but daydreams can’t do this.” She let out a shivering sigh and kissed Applejack’s forehead. “It’s all just … too much. I want to trust our choices, too, I want to just … go from here, the same as we would before, but part of me misses our bed in our farmhouse that doesn’t exist.”

Applejack gave a half smile. “The barn does.”

Grinning for a moment, Twilight sighed again. “This isn’t even real. I’ve ‘felt’ this way over a lifetime that never happened, and now the things that happened that made me feel it won’t happen again, because I already feel it. Is this just part of the attunement? How can we really choose what we want if it’s done this to us?”

Applejack straightened up gradually as Twilight talked, frowning in thought. She found herself going back again and again to her memories, to the squirming pile of unfocused and unsorted life that her brain hadn’t made sense of yet. She shook her head. “I dunno that it was anythin’ in that make-believe life made me feel like this, Twilight.”

Twilight wiped her face off and gave Applejack a questioning look.

“Things a pony does ain’t what makes ya fall in love with ‘em, I don’t think. It’s who they are on the inside, and how those parts match up to the parts inside’a you. I didn’t fall for you ‘cause you gigglin’ like a filly on a swing pushed me over the edge’a somethin’. It was ‘cause I saw enough of you on the inside to know we fit together.” Applejack studied Twilight’s face. In it Applejack saw the same worry for what the future held as when she sat down on the first day of class in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. The same bittersweet sadness and loss she felt when she realized her brother was getting married, but she didn’t even know to whom. The same implicit trust that settled over her as Applejack held her at the edge of the cliff and told her it was okay to let go. “…This time I got to know them parts without you needin’ to show me.”

Twilight’s lips twitched up haltingly, then she looked away. “… I don’t mind that you have my memories, but I’m really sorry I took yours without your permission.”

“I would’a told ‘em all to you anyway.”

“I’m still sorry.”

She caught Twilight’s chin and brought their gazes together again. “Why’s it okay for you to not mind if I got yours, but I ain’t allowed to not mind that you got mine?”

Twilight huffed through her snout and shook her head, slipping away from Applejack’s hoof. “It just feels so wrong, I feel like a voyeur peeking in on your life. I can think back and watch your brother grow up, or remember private conversations that I wasn’t there for and have no right to hear. It makes me feel like a creep intruding in on things like your mother introducing you to Apple Bloom for the first time, or—”

“T-twilight,” Applejack blurted out. She felt her face grow slack and she grabbed Twilight’s shoulder. “Y-you remember that?”

“Well … yes.”

Applejack’s vision blurred through the moisture in her eyes and she felt all the air get sucked out of her lungs. “Y…you can see her? My mom?” she whispered.

“Yes. Can … do you not remember?” Twilight frowned and touched the hoof on her shoulder.

“I …” Applejack swallowed the lump in her throat and forced in a breath of air. “It’s all so fuzzy now …” she looked away. “I know what she looks like from all the photos Granny’s still got of her. When I think back, it’s like I got one’a them pictures tacked on over a blur. I ain’t so sure what her voice sounds like anymore …”

Twilight stared at her in silence for a few moments. Her voice came out confused. “I don’t understand. I don’t know how I can remember something that you don’t remember.”

“The memory’s still there,” Applejack mumbled. “But it’s been an awful long time, and it’s still … it’s all wrapped up with losin’ her and dad, and that’s still nice ‘n raw.” She swallowed again and closed her eyes. “I remember Apple Bloom layin’ in her hooves, smilin’ and wavin’ a li’l hoof out of the blankets at me. I remember knowin’ the second I laid my eyes on her that I loved her more’n anything and I’d spend the rest of my life workin’ at bein’ the best big sister I could.”

Twilight smiled faintly, then looked away.

“What’d she say to me?”

“Huh?”

“My mom. She told me somethin’. I … I don’t remember what she said, just the feelin’ behind the words. Do you know?” She turned to face Twilight and grabbed her other shoulder. “Do you know what she said?”

Twilight hesitated, shifting back and forth in Applejack’s grasp, then shut her eyes. “She said … ‘AJ, don’t be scared, come meet your little sister … I know you two are going to get along like pigs and mud … but right now just remember she’s awful tiny, and awful new to this big world, and she’s going to need lots of patience and lots of love … There’s that wonderful smile of yours, you like her already, don’t you? Just remember …” Twilight’s cheeks turned pink, and she stumbled, saying, “L-little Apple D-Dumpling.” Twilight coughed and cleared her throat.

Applejack’s cheeks felt warm and she chuckled. “Forgot she used to call me that,” she mumbled.

Twilight cracked an eye and smiled at Applejack, then took another breath. “Just remember, Little Apple Dumpling, babies can be loud and get awful cross with you for no reason, and that might make you feel a little sore sometimes. When that happens, just remember that she’s family … and …” Twilight’s brow knit. “… And you’ll always love family with all of your heart …” she opened her eyes and locked her gaze with Applejack, whispering the rest of the sentence, “… no matter how much they might hurt you.”

Applejack vision blurred again. She blinked and felt moisture run down her cheeks, burning hot. “… I get who she was really talkin’ about now …” she whispered. “I wouldn’t’a … without you … oh, Twi …” she threw her hooves around Twilight and pulled her in, crushing their chests together and squeezing her eyes shut. She buried her face in Twilight’s mane and held tight. “Don’t … don’t think havin’ my memories is somethin’ wrong no more, Twilight. Please don’t. It’s a present. The best present I’ve ever gotten.”

Twilight hugged her back. After a while, she whispered, “I’m glad I could give it to you.”

Eventually, reluctantly, Applejack pulled back. She wiped her cheeks with a hoof and sniffed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Really.” Twilight smiled and nuzzled her cheek. “If … whenever you want me to do that, if the memories are still fresh …”

Applejack nuzzled back, smelling Twilight’s mane as she took a steadying breath. “Same offer for you, Twi.” She straightened up. “Least once everythin’s sorted out all the way in my head. It’s clearin’ up here and there, but it’s still pretty gunked up.”

Twilight nodded. “That meditation offer’s still open if you need it.”

“I’ll take ya up on that if I’m still outta sorts after sleepin’ on it. It is gettin’ better …” She closed her eyes. The confused mess still lurked behind her eyelids, but pieces of it had fallen away and smoothed themselves out in the rest of her mind. Bright spots littered the tapestry of her past, letting her watch Shining Armor grow up in front of her alongside Big Mac, and then Spike with Apple Bloom. A new timeline trailed off in the other direction, still patchwork and empty, but filling in and growing stronger and more vibrant with each passing minute, letting her watch Twilight grow alongside her, becoming more constant, more welcome, more cherished. She frowned when she got to the end of the pattern, then prodded at the mass of memories with her thoughts. “… I don’t remember how the vision ends. Last thing there’s just a normal sorta day. Do you remember?”

Twilight’s eyes flicked off and on Applejack for a moment. “… One day about fifty years from now, we spend the afternoon making apple butter.” She shuffled her hooves on the bed. “Neither one of us could move that quickly anymore, and it took a lot longer than it normally took us. After we were done, you laughed and said that you spent all that time making apple butter, only to end up too tired to eat it.”

Applejack grinned. “I remember that.”

“We went to bed that night, and the next day …” Twilight lowered her head. “You didn’t wake up.” A silence fell over the room for a few moments. “… Of ways to go, nopony could ask for something more peaceful.”

Applejack sat in place, frowning, feeling more memories fall into place in her head in bits and pieces. “… If’n all that future didn’t happen, fades away, and all we got left is you givin’ me back a piece of my mom, I’ll treasure it for the rest of my life. And maybe it’s s’posed to fade, and that’s why the other ponies who’ve gone through this didn’t go nuts ‘n tear each other apart ‘cause it can’t go the same way twice. I dunno. Don’t seem like nopony knows how this stuff works.”

With a nod, Twilight cocked her head to the side and studied Applejack back.

Applejack turned from Twilight’s gaze and looked at the wall. “Or maybe … maybe we’re thinkin’ of this wrong, and nothin’ got stolen from us at all. Maybe we got our first time really gettin’ to know each other before in that other life, and it’s somethin’ we’re always gonna have and always gonna remember. And maybe this time isn’t s’posed to be about us tryin’ it over, makin’ new decisions and tryin’ to live up to a life that ain’t real.” She returned her eyes to Twilight and studied her face. “… Maybe instead it’s a chance for us to have another fifty years together.”

Twilight’s eyes widened, and her lip trembled. She leaned closer and touched Applejack’s cheek. “… Do you really think …?” she whispered.

Applejack touched her hoof and smiled, then shrugged. “I ain’t sure what to think. Them memories are good, and, uh …” She frowned and shifted her weight from one hoof to another. “They’re awful good, they ain’t got no monsters or big fights, nopony tries to destroy the world, and nothin’ tries to kill us. Maybe it’s not real, and it’s all just a fairy tale’s worth’a magic that’s just tryin’ to give us a push. I dunno. Do you?”

Twilight searched Applejack’s face, then bit her lip and shook her head.

Applejack touched Twilight’s cheek, then kissed her forehead. “Yeah, ain’t so sure that anypony could tell us how any’a this stuff works, and we gotta just figure it out together. We’ll know a bit more tomorrow, after spendin’ more time not doin’ what we did in them memories. Right now, I feel like I must’a been home for a while, gettin’ the last of my chores squared away after our first date or somethin’, but I hardly remember any’a that.”

“… Yeah …” Twilight closed her eyes. “I think I spent this time reading through all those letters again, probably trying to convince myself not to write back to that filly and tell her she had to go for it yet, but …” She frowned. “It’s a little foggy.”

“And I know that tomorrow mornin’ I got up and got my work done extra quick ‘cause I was in a good mood, but it ain’t gonna happen that way no more.” She looked down and smiled. “I’ll be runnin’ a little late with my chores ‘cause I gotta go spend some time with Grand Pear ‘fore it gets too late.”

Twilight smiled, and it wasn’t tinged with tiredness nor worry, it had no hint of bittersweetness, just a warm, genuine smile of happiness. “I’m glad.”

“Me, too.” Applejack looked down and pawed the blanket. “I meant it. Gettin’ that bit’a mom again’s worth the whole dang headache.”

Twilight sighed and leaned in, nuzzling Applejack’s cheek. “I’m sorry for putting you through all of this today.”

Chuckling, Applejack nuzzled back. “Hey, can’t go blamin’ you for all the fireworks.”

“I still could have handled it more … gracefully. You didn’t deserve being left in the park like that. I was just overwhelmed.” She sat up straight and shook her head. “I’m still overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, that’s goin’ around.” Applejack rubbed her face. “I ain’t cross about you runnin’, I might’a run away and hid under the bed, too, if I could make heads or tails of it. Feel like I’m still tryin’ to make heads or tails of it.” She shook her head to clear it. “But I think thing’s’ll start gettin’ easier to figure out soon. And we’ll have plenty’a time to go from there.” She gave Twilight a half smile. “After all, this was only the first date.”

Twilight snorted, then giggled against her hoof. “You’re right. I don’t know how I forgot.”

She grinned and chuckled. “Still on for that second date tomorrow, right?”

“Of course.”

A comfortable silence fell over them for a moment, then Applejack rubbed her shoulder. “So, uh …”

Twilight caught her gaze and held it for several moments. She pushed the last few remnants of the pillow fort off the bed with a kick. “… You can stay if you’d like. With me.”

“… I’d like to. But maybe I oughtta not.” She scooted to the side of the bed and stepped down. “Maybe we oughtta sleep on things ‘n give our heads a chance to take all this in ‘fore we make up our minds on somethin’ so big.”

Twilight shuffled to the bed’s edge and held Applejack’s gaze. “That might be for the best. Although …” She looked down and held out a hoof. Applejack took it. “I’ve … already made up my mind. Maybe not with everything, but with the important thing.”

Applejack squeezed Twilight’s hoof. “Me, too. See you tomorrow?”

“Definitely.” She smiled. “And I’m still paying.”

Part 3

Twilight read back over the letter once more. She lost herself in thought for a moment, sucking on the end of the quill, before dipping it in the ink pot and floating it down to the waiting sheet of parchment.

Dear Meridian,

Twilight took a deep breath and popped a kink in her neck, looking back over the letter again. “You know,” she muttered under her breath, “yesterday I remembered how I answered you, Meridian. I told you a lot of things in a really nice way, and when you wrote back to me next week, you told me thank you and that it really helped … but you never told me whether you asked Nebula out on a date or not.”

She smiled ruefully at the letter, with its scratchy hornwriting, small and rushed, like Meridian had willed herself to get through writing everything out. “I don’t know if that was because you decided not to ask, or if you asked and she said no. Or if she said yes, and you’re just too private a pony to tell me. If I knew which one it was, I’d know exactly what to write now, because I can’t remember what I told you in my memories anymore.”

Twilight let out a long breath and dipped the feather back in her ink pot. “Maybe it’s better this way.” She sat up straight, rubbed her face, and set her quill to work.

Thank you for writing to me. I know what you’re going through is hard, and I know how lonely it can feel, when you’re holding onto something like that and are worried about bringing it out in the open. I’ve been through something similar. I spent a very long time worrying about how things might change if I ever said anything to

Twilight stared at the paper for a moment with the pen hovering just above the surface. She kept writing.

her, both for the worse, but also for the better. Part of me was ready to never act on it and let things be, and I could just be content with her in my life as a friend. And that was enough for a while.

Not everypony knows this about me, but when I was your age, I didn’t have very many friends. I was that filly who always sat in the front row, always answered all of the questions first, and always walked from class to class with a book in front of my face. The few friends that I had didn’t know me very well, because I never really let them get to know me. It’s something I came to regret about myself later.

The reason I’m telling you about that is so you know how strongly I wanted to hold onto the friends I eventually did make, the ones who are so important to me I’d die for them, and how worried and scared I was about losing them. How scared I am about losing them. And how it was enough for me to just have her in my life, if it meant not risking anything.

But while it might have been enough, it was hurting me inside to hold onto it. As time went on, it seemed to get bigger and scarier, and harder for me to imagine acting upon. And it was joined by a new fear that I might never get around to acting upon it at all before I never had the chance to.

I can’t tell you how Nebula Glow feels. I don’t know how she’d react to you telling her how you feel. I can’t promise you that she’d take it well, or that asking her won’t make things awkward for a while regardless of what she says. What I can tell you is that after holding it inside me for a long time, I felt so much relief to finally say it out loud to her, and regardless of how she reacted, I was better off having done it. Holding it all inside trapped me, keeping me from either growing closer to her, or moving on and growing as a pony. Being trapped felt like it could be “enough.” But the truth is, it wasn’t, and I was slowly withering. I couldn’t see that until afterwards.

I don’t know how things will go if you decide to tell Nebula, too. I don’t have a personal story to relate to you about what could or couldn’t happen, because I’m still living through my story. I hope the best for you regardless of what you decide to do. Nebula is lucky to have a friend who cares for her so deeply.

Yours truly,
Princess Twilight Sparkle

Twilight looked over her writing as the ink dried. Before rolling it up, she dipped the quill one last time.

P.S. If you decide to tell her, try not to do it with a big crowd of ponies watching. Trust me.

She pushed herself away from the desk and stretched out her back, then stepped down from her chair and stretched in the opposite direction. She let out a sigh of relaxation and headed out of her study. Her hoof clacks echoed through the empty castle as she let her mind wander over the letter, then over the day before and the magical memories stretching forward into the future. Most of them were just as clear and sharp as when she’d shared the True Love’s Kiss with Applejack, but almost everything that supposedly had happened between the kiss and that exact moment, feeling the blood pump back into her legs as she walked through the hallways, had turned into a blur, like the faint outlines of pencil erased from a page.

Maybe that meant the rest would start to fade with time, too, and all she’d be left with were Applejack’s memories. She could deal with having Applejack’s memories. She pushed open the door and felt the sun fall over her mane. She took in a deep breath of the fresh air and smiled as she left, taking a stroll just as aimless as her thoughts. She could deal with Applejack’s memories. She wasn’t sure she could deal with the future memories, though, if that meant them staying sharp and fresh until they didn’t happen, only to then be erased, like she was lowering a tapestry inch by inch into a fire. If they’d all just fade at once, she’d be content, left with just an echo of a happy life that didn’t happen. The memory of the memory.

Or maybe the first day had been a blur from the attunement itself, and she’d keep the rest of the memories. Maybe it could really be like an extra fifty years. She could deal with an extra fifty years, too.

“Be nice to know which,” she grumbled to herself. “It’s really hard to try and plan for one thing when the other might—”

A shrill voice carried on the wind cut through her musing. “Yes huh, it totally means that!”

Twilight stopped short and looked around. She’d zigged and zagged through town and ended up back at the park. She smirked at herself, then snapped back to the sound of a scoff. “I does not!” Apple Bloom gave Diamond Tiara a sour look as they walked up the path that led off to the ice cream vendor.

Diamond Tiara perked up when she locked eyes with Twilight, then tapped Apple Bloom on the shoulder. “We can ask Twilight, she’ll know for sure.”

Diamond rushed over and Twilight raised an eyebrow, because Apple Bloom froze in her tracks, looking stricken. She grimaced at Diamond Tiara, and stammered out, “N-no, don’t be askin’ her, it ain’t pol—”

“Tell her,” Diamond Tiara said loudly over Apple Bloom, raising her snout in the air. “That if you marry Applejack, that would make Applejack a princess, too!”

Apple Bloom cringed, and looked at Twilight from the corner of her eye. “Diamond! You ain’t supposed to ask ponies stuff like that!”

“Ugh, what’s the big deal? What, is it embarrassing? It’s not like I’m telling her to marry your sister now, she can marry her when she wants to!”

Apple Bloom’s face reddened, and she mouthed ‘sorry’ at Twilight.

Twilight chuckled and rubbed her face with a hoof. “I deserve this,” she whispered.

“Ya still don’t ask questions like that, Diamond Tiara! It ain’t good manners!”

Diamond Tiara rolled her eyes. “Ugh, good manners. If everypony was always so worried about manners, then nopony would ask anypony anything! What could possibly be bad about asking Twilight what it would mean when she marries your sister?”

Twilight scrunched her eyes tight and fought to keep from laughing. She could hear Apple Bloom’s teeth grinding together.

“If Twilight marries my sister, which she don’t have to, it’d be a long time from now. Ponies who lllllll—” Apple Bloom’s tone wavered in the middle of the held sound, then grew chipper and sped up all at once “—like each other a whole bunch wait and decide to get married after they’ve been together a long while. She don’t wanna be thinkin’ about it right now at all, it’s embarrassin’!”

Twilight cleared her throat sharply before Diamond Tiara could cut in again and made a mental note to compliment Applejack on instilling a good set of manners in her sister. Applejack was definitely the one who deserved credit for it. Twilight remembered her doing it. “It’s okay, Apple Bloom, I don’t mind the question.”

Apple Bloom blinked in surprise and gave Twilight a guarded, skeptical look. “Really?”

“Yes.” She flashed an indulgent smile at her, then turned to Diamond Tiara. “If I were to marry anypony, they would have the choice to take an official title, if they wanted to. Marrying a princess traditionally comes with the title of duke. Or duchess, in this case.”

Diamond Tiara wrinkled her muzzle. “Duchess? Why duchess? Shouldn’t it be prince or princess?”

Twilight shook her head. “Being a prince or princess is hereditary. Or … genetic, anyway.” She unfolded her wings for emphasis. “You’re either born with the title, or receive it through extraordinary circumstances, not through marriage. Any children we might have would be either a prince or princess.” Twilight knit her brow and frowned. “Of course, in this case, the logistics of that might prove complicated.”

She glanced at Apple Bloom, who was staring at her in abject horror. “… You sure you’re okay?”

“Really, I’m fine,” she giggled. “We’re talking in hypotheticals, Apple Bloom.” She kept her self from adding ‘sort of.’

Diamond Tiara let out a chuff through her snout. “Well that’s disappointing, what’s the point of marrying a princess, then?” She blinked and looked sidelong at Twilight. “I mean, no offense.” She looked back at Apple Bloom. “And I guess being a duchess is pretty cool, that’s a type of royalty still! So I was right!”

The preoccupation left Apple Bloom’s expression, and she harrumphed at Diamond. “I guess, but Twilight said you don’t gotta take a title or whatever. I betcha my sister wouldn’t wanna be a duchess’a nothin’ and say no.”

Scoffing, Diamond looked back to Twilight. “What do you think, would Applejack say no?” Apple Bloom twitched like she was on the verge of an aneurysm.

“You know, it never came up.” She glanced back and forth at their bewildered expressions. “Erm, the truth is I don’t know what she’d say. This town is very important to her as it is, and Ponyville would likely be the land her title would be attached to, I’d think she’d be honored to look after it. On the other hoof, she’s very humble and might feel conflicted about taking a title on principle. I could see her making either decision.”

Twilight’s expression slowly slid into a neutral line. She could imagine Applejack making either choice, and despite the years of memories filled with the tiniest details, she couldn’t recall anything related to Duchess Applejack or definitely not Duchess Applejack at any point in time through the whole other life. And it couldn’t have been that it never came up, something like that had to come up.

“… Maybe not with everything, but all the important things …” she muttered to herself.

Diamond’s mouth opened and closed a few times in confusion, then she shook her head and turned to Apple Bloom. “This is a weird conversation, anyway. I just thought it was cool, and that you should be excited.” She huffed. “Ugh, and now I’m late, too.” She looked at Twilight, smiled politely, and said, “Thank you for answering my question, Princess Twilight,” in a rehearsed monotone, then turned and walked back into the park.

Apple Bloom let out a deflating breath and shook her head. “I’m real sorry, Twilight, I kept tellin’ her …”

Twilight giggled and shook her head. “It really is okay.”

“Like … really okay, okay, or okay like how ponies sometimes say when it ain’t okay, but don’t want you to feel bad ‘cause they ain’t blamin’ you for it.”

She laughed harder and sat down on the ground. “You have a lot in common with your sister, you know. You’re both very perceptive. And blunt.”

Apple Bloom perked up and smiled. “Thanks!” She pawed the ground. “Uh … even if it is okay, I’m still awful sorry. It ain’t any’a my business one way or the other, and I don’t wanna be stickin’ my snout in my sister’s lllll—like a lot life.”

Twilight nodded. “I appreciate that.” She cocked her head to the side and smiled at Apple Bloom. “But it is your business a little bit.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, obviously you’re right, but I hope that you don’t mind me dating your sister.”

“Are you kiddin’? ‘Course not!” Apple Bloom blinked and she shrunk into her shoulders with a look of chagrin. “I mean, I don’t see why I wouldn’t …”

Twilight smiled warmly at Apple Bloom, then froze as realization splashed over her. She’d always been perfectly fond of Apple Bloom, but she was looking at her with the eyes of a pony who had watched her grow up into such a well-mannered, thoughtful, self-assured young mare, and was bursting with sisterly pride. A pang of guilt tried to worm its way into her head, but the thought of Applejack hugging her close and whispering thanks into her ear killed that guilt on the spot.

Twilight cleared her throat. “I’m glad. And I hope it stays that way, I wouldn’t want you angry at me.”

Apple Bloom straightened up and rocked her weight back and forth from one set of legs to the other. “I dunno what I’d have to be cross with you over, ‘less you hurt my sister.” She frowned. “And I’d guess if that happened, you’d be hurtin’ an awful lot, too, so I still couldn’t be too mad.” She brightened. “Really, if you and Applejack’re happy, then I’m happy.”

Twilight nodded. “That sounds good.”

A beat of silence filled the air, and Apple Bloom shuffled her hooves. “… Umm …” She straightened, then glanced up at the sky, taking in the position of the sun. “Speakin’a bein’ late, I’m s’posed to meet Applejack soon. We’re havin’ lunch with Grand-père Pear.”

“I know, Applejack told me about that.” Her smile felt strained. “I won’t keep you, have a good time!” She resisted the urge to give Apple Bloom a hug and say how happy she was that Grand Pear was around, and how proud she was of Apple Bloom. She limited herself to a little wave.

“Bye, Twilight!” Apple Bloom grinned and waved, then trotted off into town at a fast clip.

She let out a long sigh, then turned around and started walking back into town, away from the park. Building up a relationship with Apple Bloom that matched the one she already felt in her heart would be something to work on. Big Macintosh and Granny, too. Maybe even Grand Pear. Applejack didn’t have any memories of him to share, but if he had stories about Pear Butter, Twilight was dying to hear them. But at the moment, all she was to them was one of Applejack’s friends. She imagined Applejack would have good advice to give on the subject.

She let her mind wander again as she walked, over plans for building a connection with the ponies she knew so well in her head, over helping Applejack do the same with Shining Armor if she wanted, and over the subject of duchesshoods, taken, not taken, and left undecided. As she pushed open the castle door, she realized none of her thoughts were concerned over how real the future memories were or not, nor how to go about deciding definitively how real they were. While she went back to her study, read over her letter again, and sealed it to be mailed, she decided she didn’t really care if they were real or not, anyway. All she could do was see what the future would bring, and then go from there.

Maybe it was better that way.

Author's Note

Hey folks!

This one took a bit longer a time to get finished than I expected it to, because I kept running into roadblocks along the way. I am happy with how it turned out and am glad I got the chance to write this finally, as it's an old idea I've wanted to write for years now. I hope you enjoyed reading it, and I really appreciate you taking the time to do so. Y'all are the best.

I'm juggling a couple of different projects at the moment, but hopefully the next story won't have as much of a gap between now and then as this one had with the last one. Hope to see y'all again then.