The Last Hearth's Warming Gift
The palace was quiet this night before Hearth's Warming Eve. Every servant had left to take advantage of the small snowless window the pegasi weather teams had left in the schedule and make it home before the roads became impassable. What few guards remained were polishing their purple and gold armor, humming along with the sound of distant carolers. The animals that lived in the gardens year-round had retreated into the warmed stables built long, long ago by the famed Fluttershy herself.
Yes, this Hearth's Warming would be cozy indeed. Which bothered one earth stallion mightily as he raced alone through the palace halls.
Sir Honest Apple, of the great Apple family, Applelachia branch, Permanent Secretary to the Ministry of Quills and Offices, and Bearer of the Element of Honesty, was in no mood to play around today. His grey suit, usually pressed and clean, showed the wear and tear of two days of bureaucratic wrangling as his office had been trying to push through everything before the holiday. His shiny yellow coat glistened with sweat (why did he become a bureaucrat if not to avoid this exact sort of thing?) and his golden mane had lost some of its usual pomp and volume.
Oh yes, Sir Apple was not pleased. He’d been in a serious and important last-second meeting with the other civil servants when the Princess’s letter arrived. He truly loved his wise and eternal monarch (after all, who loved bureaucracy as much as her!), but he sometimes wondered if she understood what constituted an emergency requiring the Bearers to assemble. Or if she understood how expensive a drink he’d had to leave behind at the ~~party~~ serious and important meeting.
The interior of the palace had been done up marvelously, Honest would say had he not been in such a hurry. Garland and bells and wreaths covered every wall and pillar. Little bowls of candy, foal-height of course, had been set out in the public corridors while in the halls the hurried stallion raced through, presents addressed to individual guards had been left, at least those whose recipients were still waiting for the shift change.
No, Sir Apple would not be delayed by sightseeing. If he could just get through this quickly, he might be able to head back to the… meeting and ~~get giddy on hot cider~~ some work done before the holiday.
He rushed around a final corner, and nearly ran headlong into the Royal Advisor himself.
“Whoa, whoa!” Spike said, stopping the rushing stallion with a single, huge dragon-claw, “Where’s the fire?”
Finally at rest, Honest took a deep breath and began to straighten his suit jacket. He made sure to check his tongue while he was at it. “Do you mean to say that there is a fire?” he said in a clipped, proper Canterlot accent. “Is that the disaster looming before us?”
Spike raised a single eyebrow, “What? No, there’s no actual… Honest, they’re all waiting on you.” The dragon pulled a comb out and began dragging it across Honest’s mane, much to the officepony’s dismay.
“Please, Sir Spike,” he pleaded, “Stop, please. There’s no need… I have a stylist that… Dagnabbit stop!”
Spike released his friend, a crooked smile on his draconic lips. Watching Honest Apple slip back into a real Apple accent was too much fun. As he watched the stiff paperpony check his mane, Spike couldn’t help but chuckle lightly to himself. Sometimes Honest seemed more like one of Rarity’s relatives than Applejack’s. “Sorry about that, Honest. You just had a lick in the back, and I know how you think presentation matters.”
Honest gave the dragon an incredulous look. He adjusted his spectacles as he said, “Sir, presentation is key in my line of work. A civil servant must be clean, cool, and efficient.”
“Uh huh,” Spike crossed his arms and gave a toothy grin, “And what part of that includes being stuck-up?”
“Just the fun bits,” Honest smiled back, momentarily forgetting he had somewhere to be and reason to be upset about it. “So, what is this supposed disaster? Did the Cutie Map call us? Did Discord do something again?”
Spike laughed, “No, nothing like that.”
Honest tapped his chin. “Grogar?”
The large purple dragon placed a claw on Honest’s withers and drew him to the large golden doors that led to the throne room. “Twilight just had something to show all of you.”
Oh swell, Honest thought. A friendship lesson, no doubt. He clearly wasn’t opposed to friendship or anything like that, else he wouldn’t be a Bearer of Harmony. It was only that, as an Apple, he’d heard all these lessons since foalhood. He could still remember Granny Applebloom sitting him down on her knee and regaling him with stories of…
Well. Old stories. Not particularly relevant to the modern era.
Honest Apple entered the throne room with Spike, and couldn’t help but admire the décor. Hearth's Warming bunting and garlands had been strung throughout the great hall, and even the stain glass windows bore more than a few wintry decorations. Even the most recent, depicting himself and the current Bearers of Harmony defeating the real Grogar (and boy, was that a surprising day) had bells and paper ribbons dangling.
The other Bearers were there assembled. Flurry Heart, the Element of Generosity, stood by the (somewhat elderly for a Changeling) Ocellus, Element of Kindness. They were joined by Crunch the Dragon, Element of Loyalty, and Madeline “Mad” Oreo Pie, the natural Element of Laughter. They all stood around the final element, Princess Twilight Sparkle herself, who stood with them below the raised dais upon which her throne sat.
Honest spared a glance to the other creatures in the room, all of whom stood just off to one side. He recognized Discord, the Lord of Chaos, wearing the tackiest Hearth's Warming sweater imaginable, bright red and covered in pink butterflies. He seemed to be chatting up the Princesses Luna and Celestia, who were wearing equally horrific sweaters, though at least Celestia seemed to know hers was a fashion travesty. A third Princess, Cadence, was engaged in conversation with the Archmage Celeste Lulamoon.
If anycreature were missing, Honest couldn’t think of them.
“Welcome Sir Honest!” Twilight stood head and shoulders above her little ponies, and her voice carried through the hall appropriately, “We can finally begin.”
“Apologies, your Highness,” he bowed low, “I was catching up with paperwork.”
Spike shrugged at this, and the Princess tittered behind a hoof. “There’s no need for the ‘Highnesses’ and bowing, Honest. You’re practically family here.”
All the guests in attendance began to drift together at this. Twilight Sparkle, the alicorn Princess of Friendship, stepped right up to Honest Apple as Spike ran to the back of the throne room and began pulling out a covered cart.
“Honest,” Twilight’s eyes met the stallion’s own, “Could you tell me about the last time you met your Great Granny Applejack?”
Sir Apple paused, the thoughts in his head tripping over themselves. Great Granny? What was this about?
“Ah,” he stalled, “why do you ask?”
She smiled, almost sadly. “Humor me.”
“Well,” he began, “I’m not certain why you’re asking, since I do seem to recall you were there… but it was Hearth's Warming, if I remember correctly. I couldn’t have been more than a foal, so forgive me if my recollection is a bit hazy.”
“Take your time. It will make sense soon.”
Honest began retelling the scene. It had been a picturesque winter morning at Sweet Apple Acres. His parents had taken him and his sisters to visit during the holiday, the first since… well, the first without the presence of the great Rainbow Dash. Pinkie Pie hadn’t been to one of the Apple parties in a long while before Honest’s time, but Auntie Cheese Pie was still spry enough to make the traditional visit from her side of the family… assuming the Pies were Apples as everypony seemed to believe.
Honest, at first retelling the memory with his usual, direct style, paused… remembering the way the house smelled that morning. Hot haycakes and apple fritters were baked by the bushel, literally, and hot cider flowed freely. Dozens of Apples were attending, knowing that the next Reunion wouldn’t be for a long time… something that the family’s great and famous matriarch may not have much left of.
Honest removed his glasses.
“I remember,” he said quietly, “Granny brought me into the barn while everypony else was getting cart rides in the east field. She hadn’t… she wasn’t as quick as she used to be, everyone said. But she brought me in and wanted to show me something special.
‘“Honest,’ she said to me,” Honest smiled at the memory, and let his accent slip just a touch to resemble his Granny’s, ‘“You’re gonna make us Apples proud one day, I can feel it in my bones. But I figured now’s as good a time as any to let you in on an Apple family tradition.”’
The memory seemed to play on its own.
Applejack went around to the back of the barn and pulled up a hidden latch on the floor. Honest watched his Great Granny head down into the Barn’s cellar, and then come up a minute later with a hefty barrel balanced atop her back. The old mare carried it well, despite the arthritis and her hip being the way it was. Honest could see an old, old and faded apple marker on the barrel’s lid, but he wasn’t a very good reader at the time, so the date meant little to him.
She rolled the barrel over to a rack on the wall that held it up and at an angle so she could easily pour it, and she pulled out a mug she’d obviously placed earlier. And with a final, expert ease, she slammed a metal bit into the barrel’s top. With a twist of the new spigot with one hoof, and the mug held in her (still original!) teeth, Granny filled up the mug with a splash of cider.
She held out the mug and began telling her own tale. “When I was just a filly, not much older than yerself, ma Pa took me and Big Mac aside and showed us this barrel. It was the very first Apple family cider he’d made after marrying Ma. An’ he told us he wanted every generation of Apple from then on to save a barrel, so we could savor them with the next.”
Applejack gave her great grandnephew the mug and had him taste it.
“It was the sweetest cider I’ve ever had,” Honest recounted, his voice grown warm and full as he reached this part of the tale. “It was a barrel of 987… a perfect harvest, Granny said. She told me that, ‘Family was the memories you left behind’, or something like that.”
Sir Honest Apple coughed once, clearing his throat. “And that was the last time I ever saw her. I’m… not ungrateful to be reminded of the day, but I still don’t understand what you wanted to know.”
Princess Twilight placed a wing atop Honest’s withers and began to gently lead him towards the covered cart Spike had dragged into the room. “You wouldn’t know this,” she said in a voice that sounded as fragile as crystal glass, “But Applejack gave me a very similar gift that same year.”
With that, the cover came off, and the assembled creatures could see the cart contained on its top level a whole set of mugs. Not glass, nor porcelain. Simple wooden mugs. And on the bottom level there sat, like a swollen pig, a barrel. A barrel with a faded apple painted on its lid.
The barrel began to glow with a purple light, the Princess’s own aura, and it lifted up into the air, just at Honest’s eye level.
“Do you recognize this?” Twilight asked, knowing the answer already.
Honest adjusted his glasses, staring at the slightly crooked label. He shook his head, stared again. His jaw began to work silently.
Finally, he said, “This is a 1101.”
“Indeed,” the Princess smiled.
“But that would mean…” Honest didn’t know how to say it. He was looking at the gold standard of old, preserved cider. He truly hoped this had been a gift, for the Treasury’s sake.
Twilight, to her credit, did know how to answer. “This is the very last barrel of cider that my dear friend Applejack made herself.”
The silence that followed would have drowned out any audible gasp from the assembled. The mortal Bearers of Harmony, minus Honest himself, were awed by their Princess’s words. The immortal alicorns and Draconequus, by contrast, allowed the briefest shadow to cross their features, the passing of memories long ago, both happy and sorrowful.
Twilight took the silence as a cue to continue. “She gave me ten barrels on that last Hearth's Warming, and I made sure to squirrel them away. For… a very long time, I’ve occasionally snuck a mug here and there whenever I was feeling sorry for myself,” she sighed, an ancient wind blowing through a wintry night, “Or whenever I wanted to remember my old friend and the adventures we used to have.”
For just a moment, Honest Apple could have sworn the Princess was about to shed a tear. It wasn’t that he thought her incapable… but the idea held its own existential dread, like watching a sturdy ship overtaken by a swell. But then she turned to look at him, and she gave Honest the most genuine, encompassing smile he had ever seen, bar none.
“But when I came down to the final barrel,” her voice held strong and true, “I knew that I had to uphold those old Apple values. I knew that I had to share this last Hearth's Warming gift with all of you, from one generation of family to another.”
Her voice cracked, ever so slightly on the last word. Even so, Princess Twilight took the barrel in her magical grip and began to pour its contents into the mugs. Within seconds, the mugs were filled, the barrel empty. The mugs lit up with her magic and passed themselves around the room, to every hoof, claw, paw, or unicorn aura.
There was, again, silence in the throne room. Everycreature looked about, clearly happy to be here, honored even, but unsure if they should drink such a rare and valuable thing, or if somecreature should say a few words.
Into the silence, a single, melodious voice spoke up, like a well-tuned fiddle humming to life. It started off as little more than a sigh before slowly gaining in volume and spirit:
“When family cannot be here,
Havin' journeyed far and wide,
We sing a song to honor them,
To remember days gone by.
Our paths will cross again one day,
In time to reunite,
For family is always near,
Even when the seas are wide.”
Sir Honest Apple, of the great Apple family, Applelachia branch, Permanent Secretary to the Ministry of Quills and Offices, and Bearer of the Element of Honesty, allowed his voice to fade… only for his ears to lift as all those around him took up the Apple Family toast.
“So take your cup and raise it high,
Just as surely I'll do mine,
And make a toast for family,
And the tales of days gone by.
By the end of the songful toast, the harmony of five alicorns, a draconequus, a changeling, two dragons, and the many assembled ponies, both in the hall and amidst the guards outside, vibrated off the stain glass windows and the vaulted ceiling. And within the palace that night, there was not one set of eyes that did not glisten, nor one heart that did not sing along.
Those who came to the Princess’s toast slowly made their way from the throne room. The Twin Sisters returned to their rooms to retire for the night, while Cadence and Flurry Heart left to sit beneath the Hearth's Warming tree set up in the front of the palace. Ocellus, Oreo, and Crunch were spending the holiday with the School of Friendship, and went off arm in arm in hoof together. Lulamoon had vanished without a trace during the party, the only sign of her passing being a faint waft of stage-smoke after she had gone.
Discord said nothing. Not a word left his lips the entire time Honest had seen him that night. He simply finished his mug of cider, gave the Princess of Friendship a long, warm hug, and then left.
Honest had waited behind, and with the last of the others now gone, he approached his eternal sovereign. Spike had long since fallen asleep in his Royal Advisor’s seat, and Twilight appeared content to watch her little brother sleep from her own throne.
“Your high…” he saw her eyes flick over to him, and for just the span of a breath, he could feel a weight in his chest, like Eternity had just noticed his presence. “… Miss Twilight,” he finally managed.
She returned a warm, if tired, smile. “Yes, Honest? What’s on your mind?”
A lot, this particular night, he thought. His mouth was dry, and Honest took a moment to remember what he’d wanted to say. “Ma’am,” his accent slipped again, but he didn’t let it slow him down, “I was just thinking of some things, and I wanted to get your opinion on somethin’.”
She gave a half-hearted snort, the closest thing to a chuckle she could manage perhaps, “Of course. Fire away.”
“Well, in the first place, Princess, I’d like to ask for an immediate emergency three-day unscheduled vacation.”
Her ears perked up. “Oh? Is something wrong?”
He shook his head, “Nah… er, no. But it will take me some time to reach Sweet Apple Acres this time of year, with the trains so crowded. I thought spending Hearth's Warming back on the farm might…” he blinked away something in his eye, “It might help me remember some things I… may have forgotten.”
The Princess tip-hoofed away from the sleeping Spike to approach Honest. “Well, that seems like a great idea. I’m sure your cousins would love to see you again.”
“I don’t doubt in the Apples’ hospitality,” he went to tip a hat he’d forgotten wasn’t there, then blushing, he continued, “But there was one other thing.”
He waited, but the Princess appeared to be entirely without hurry for him to finish.
“You see… I happen to recall that I have a few small kegs of the 1102 harvest stashed away in my cellar.”
Twilight’s eyebrows rose.
“And… well, it’s not a particularly famous year. Nor is it the best by any measure. But my grandma Applebloom was still running the farm then, and it was her first batch without… well, alone…”
He quickly wiped away the errant tears before they caused any more trouble for his drycleaner. “If you weren’t too busy next year, I could see to bring them over for Hearth's Warming,” he said quickly, then, “You know… to carry on the family tradition. Because… because you’re my fa…”
Honest Apple didn’t finish the thought. He felt the huge, feathery wings wrap around and pull him straight into the Princess’s embrace. With the clear size difference between them, he couldn’t help but feel like a little foal receiving a warm, loving hug from his mother.
As he returned the hug, he could feel Twilight’s soft coat, her warmth both in body and in spirit. He could even feel her lightly nuzzle the top of his head.
“We’re family,” she whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheek, for her friends and family gone, and those still with her now, “…and so much more.”
And in the streets of Canterlot, a final carol could be heard just above the tolling of the evening bells.
“For family not here, my dears,
Havin' journeyed far and wide,
For loyalty and kindness both,
Take joy at days gone by,
For loyalty and kindness both,
We smile at days gone by.”
Author's Note
I'll admit, if that song ran at the end of the actual finale, I'd cry my eyes out.
