Sweat slicked against Applejack’s back as she made her way up the long, winding path to the manor house. Around her, the morning air was thick with the scent of baked bread. The baker had started work hours ago. Applejack had passed by on her way to the manor and seen the pink mare hurrying around through the bakery window. Seeing her buoyant neighbour did little to lift her spirits. Nothing did on tithe days.

The manor house spires reached high into the sky, as if to prove that no earth pony could ever hope to match the grandeur of unicorn architecture. Applejack’s chest tightened with every step, but she pushed her resentment aside. She was strong, and strong ponies did their duty. She had her family to support, and that meant paying her tithe to the unicorn lord, no matter how much it stung.

When she was within sight of the gates, she was greeted by the usual sneers and jeers from the pegasi stationed there. They hovered in the air, their wings spread wide, eyes gleaming with condescension.

“Look at what we have here.” The pegasus mare fluttered down to land beside Applejack’s cart. Her bright yellow coat shimmered in the early morning light and her striking red mane bounced with the motion. “Dragging in her sad little wagon full of apples, like anyone with taste actually wants them.” She wrinkled her nose, glancing disdainfully at the baskets piled high with fruit. “Ugh, apples. Honestly, could there be a more boring, awful thing to eat?”

Applejack’s jaw tightened. “They ain’t for you, Strawberry Sunrise,” she said evenly, pulling her cart closer to the manor gates. “They’re part of the tithe.”

Strawberry Sunrise snorted. She gave Applejack a mocking grin. “Tithe or not, it’s a crime against good food. Honestly, I pity the ponies who have to eat these sour little things.” She plucked an apple from the nearest basket with her wing and held it up, gagging as if it was a rotten fish. “You really think these are worth anything? The unicorns probably only tolerate you because you’re so pitiful.”

Applejack bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping back. Strawberry Sunrise had a way of making her lose her cool when she could not afford to. With great effort, she kept her focus on the path ahead, refusing to give Strawberry Sunrise the satisfaction of seeing her flinch.

“I’ve got my tithes, like I’m supposed to,” she said, her voice steady despite the bitterness she felt. “Let me through. Lord Flintheart will want ‘em.”

The pegasus stallion smirked, circling around Applejack like a predator sizing up prey. His teal coat, long legs and tousled golden mane made him look more feminine than most male guards. There was nothing soft or gentle about him though.

“Oh, I’m sure Lord Flintheart will want them,” he drawled, tone dripping with mock sympathy. “But not without a little show of gratitude first, don’t you think?” His smirk widened. “After all, it’s not every day we let your kind waltz up to the manor. You may be useful for something, but don’t go thinking we’ll ever forget your place.”

Strawberry Sunrise snickered. “Zephyr’s right, you know.” She spun the apple she had taken on her wingtip like a toy. “It’s not about the apples - they’re awful, by the way - it’s about remembering who’s in charge. You dirt ponies should be grateful we even tolerate you.”

The sneers from the two pegasi were sharp as daggers. Applejack’s teeth ground together as she tried desperately not to let her anger show on her face.

“Y’all done talkin’?” she muttered, keeping her voice admirably steady.

Zephyr chuckled, stepping closer. “What’s the rush? You in such a hurry to bow to Lord Flintheart? Or do you just like pretending these sad little apples of yours are worth anything?”

“I’d take pity on her if she weren’t so stubborn. But it’s kind of cute, don’t you think, Zeph? Like a stray dog that doesn’t know when to stop barking.” Strawberry Sunrise smirked, rolling the apple across her back and onto her other wing. “Honestly, Applejack, I don’t know how you manage to carry all these without tripping over your own hooves. Must be exhausting, lugging around something so useless.”

She gave the apple a sharp flick, sending it up into the air. Applejack gave a sharp gasp as the round red fruit plummeted to smash against the cobblestones. It burst, splattering pulp and juice in all directions.

Strawberry gasped theatrically. “Oh, no! Look what’s happened! Such a shame. And to think, this was part of your tithe. Now you’ll be short!” She turned to Applejack, a sly grin spreading across her face. “You’d better clean this up. Lord Flintheart doesn’t take kindly to sloppy deliveries—or shortages.” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “I’d hate to see you get into trouble for being careless.”

Zephyr Breeze chuckled from behind her, his wings flaring lazily as he watched. “Yeah. Wouldn’t want to disappoint the good lord. You’d better get scrubbing.” He paused, tapping a hoof to his chin in mock contemplation. “Oh wait! You earth ponies do everything with your mouths, don’t you?” He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping into a mockingly conspiratorial tone. “So, why don’t you lick it up, huh? Show us how useful those dirt pony instincts of yours really are.”

Strawberry Sunrise burst into laughter. She nudged a piece of the crushed apple closer to Applejack with the tip of her hoof. “Oh, Zeph, that’s perfect! It’s only fair she cleans up her own mess. Or, well, what’s left of her sad little tithe.”

Applejack froze, her breath catching in her chest as her anger boiled under the surface. Her ears flattened, her hooves digging into the cobblestones as she fought to keep herself from snapping. Every fibre of her being screamed at her to shove Zephyr Breeze’s smug grin straight into the crushed apple or to wipe that cruel laughter off Strawberry Sunrise’s face with a well-aimed kick. But she couldn’t.

Her family depended on her. On the tithe. On staying in the unicorn lords’ tenuous favour.

So instead, she clenched her teeth so hard it hurt and muttered through gritted teeth, “Y’all’ve had your fun.”

Zephyr Breeze shrugged. “Suit yourself. Just thought I’d offer some helpful advice.” He stepped back with an exaggerated yawn, as though bored by the whole thing.

Applejack bent down to gather the remains of the crushed apple into a basket with her hoof. The humiliation burned, but she forced herself to stay quiet. She could not let them win. Her nostrils flared with the scent of juice. The wasted apple made her want to lash out. Still, she lowered her gaze, swallowing her pride as she cleaned up what she could, her chest burning with frustration and shame.

Applejack’s green eyes burned with frustration, but she refused to react. She couldn’t. Lord Flintheart and his court demanded their tithe, and if she showed weakness now, it would only make things worse.

So she endured. Because that’s what earth ponies did.

Zephyr Breeze lazily waved a hoof toward the gates. “Guess we’ll let you in. Wouldn’t want Lord Flintheart to miss his apples.”

“Even if they’re nothing special,” Strawberry Sunrise sniped. “Go on, dirt pony. Try not to scuff up the place with all that farm grime.”

With a click of the latch and a push, the gates creaked open, revealing the sprawling manor grounds beyond. The manicured lawns and glistening fountains stood in stark contrast to the dusty path Applejack had taken to get here.

She swallowed her pride once again, gripping the wagon’s harness tightly and dragging her cart inside. Her hooves sank slightly into the pristine gravel path, leaving faint traces of dirt behind her. The weight of the apples pulled against her shoulders, but she kept her chin up, refusing to show any sign of struggle. She knew the two guards were watching her and refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her struggle.

As the gates clanged shut behind her, another figure approached from the manor, her steps light and deliberate. A unicorn. Rarity, one of Lord Flintheart’s prized ladies, trotted toward them with an air of grace and beauty. Her white coat gleamed in the sunlight, and her horn shimmered with the faint glow of magic. Her elegant mane flowed in a perfect cascade of curls, a stark contrast to Applejack’s rough, sunburnt appearance.

“Well, well,” Rarity said, her voice sweet but cold. “The farmer’s here. How quaint.” She looked Applejack over with disdain, her gaze lingering on her work-worn body. “Did you remember to wash off the dirt, darling? Or do you plan on dirtying my lord’s manor with your ... presence?”

Applejack resisted the urge to snort in frustration. “I didn’t come to see you, Rarity,” she said flatly. “I’m just here to give Lord Flintheart his tithe.”

Rarity’s horn flickered as she floated one of the apple baskets closer out of the cart and brought it towards her to look inside. “Oh, I’m sure Lord Flintheart will be so pleased,” she cooed, inspecting the apples with exaggerated care. “Though I must say, I do wonder how such a lowly creature as yourself manages to grow anything worthy of my lord’s taste.”

Applejack fought a sigh. She had heard it all before: the sneering, the belittling, the constant reminders of her place in the world. To the unicorns, earth ponies were little more than beasts of burden; tools to be used and discarded. They sneered at pegasi too, considering them brash and crude. Yet at least the pegasi had something to set them apart, a magic tied to their wings that unicorns begrudgingly acknowledged: their ability to fly, walk on clouds, and control weather patterns gave them something worth respecting.

Earth ponies, however, were the lowest of the low. With no wings to soar through the skies and no horns to channel magic, they were deemed unremarkable and inferior. Unicorns viewed their strength and connection to the earth not as gifts, but as the mark of a servant class. To them, farming, building, and providing for others were menial tasks meant for those without the refinement of magic.

Applejack hated the way their eyes always raked over her, filled with disdain, as if she were nothing more than the dirt they compared her with. She hated the condescension in their voices, the way they dismissed her worth without a second thought.

However, what she hated most was the power they held over her family and her farm. This was the price she had to pay to ensure that her family could survive another season.

So she gritted her teeth, swallowed the anger burning in her chest, and let Rarity insult her and her apples just as she had let Strawberry Sunrise and Zephyr Breeze insult her. She would endure it all, just as she always had. For them. for her family.

“You’ve done quite enough, Rarity.”

Applejack and Rarity both looked up at the imperious voice from above.

Lord Flintheart looked down at them from manor’s balcony. His coat was a steely shade of grey that seemed to blend into his black cloak. When he stepped down the marble stairs, his hoofsteps were so soft that Applejack could barely hear them. “Leave the poor creature to her task. She’s a good little servant, after all.”

“Thank you, Lord Flintheart.” Applejack kept her voice flat, though the weight of his condescension was unbearable. “Would you like me to unload my tithe?”

“No need.” Lord Flintheart’s horn lit up and he effortlessly lifted all the baskets of apples from the cart to empty into a bin carried by a pair of earth pony maids Applejack had not noticed until that point. Lord Flintheart deposited the now-empty baskets back into her cart. “There now.”

“Thank you kindly, my lord. I’ll be on my way, then.”

Rarity stepped forward with a haughty expression that was too intense to be real, clearly putting on a show for her lord. “Next time, darling, do be sure to bring something more substantial. Five baskets? Really? We would like to see a more impressive offering for such important ponies as my lord.” Her polished tone was as cutting as the gleam of her horn, the words meant to sting as much as to impress.

Applejack nodded curtly. She had long since grown tired of the way they demanded more and more, but what could she do? She had no choice.

Lord Flintheart watched the exchange with a pensive expression. “That little sister of yours – what’s her name again? Apple Bloom? She’s growing older, isn’t she?” He stroked his chin, voice slow and deliberate as he mused aloud. “Perhaps next year, instead of these meagre baskets, I’ll demand her labour as part of your family’s tithe. A bright young maid might prove far more useful around the manor than a few measly apples.”

Applejack’s breath caught in her throat. She had heard the rumours - horror stories, really – of how Lord Flintheart and the unicorns who lived in the manor treated their maids, especially the young and scared ones. The idea of Apple Bloom being subjected to that …

“That’s—” she started, but quickly snapped her mouth shut. What could she say that wouldn’t risk making things worse? She lowered her gaze, her mind racing as she fought to keep her emotions in check. She would protect Apple Bloom, no matter the cost, but for now, all she could do was endure.

With a polite nod, Applejack turned and made her way back out through the gates and back down the path to town. Her legs were heavy with frustration, but she forced herself to keep walking. She wasn’t going to let their cruelty break her. Not today.

As she trotted back down the long, winding road, her mind turned inward, toward her farm and her family. She would work harder, as always. She’d carry the Apple name with pride, even if the world treated her as nothing more than a tool for their gain. She would make sure there would more than enough apples to meet the term ‘substantial’ and keep Apple Bloom out of the manor altogether.

Sweet Apple Acres was far enough outside town that the nearer she got, the more she felt like she could breathe again. The manor was not even visible behind the horizon anymore, and with its disappearance from view, the tension in Applejack’s body slowly began to ease away. When she got home, she would make breakfast, rouse Apple Bloom for school and then see about –

A flicker of light caught her eye. She glanced up, barely catching a brief, glowing streak in the sky before it vanished. It was so fast that she thought she had imagined it. She shook her head. It was just the glare of the sun or a trick of her weary mind.

A thunderous explosion shattered the quiet. Its force rippled through the ground and nearly knocked Applejack off her hooves. She whipped toward the source of the sound, heart pounding as a plume of smoke rose from her orchard.

“What in tarnation!?”

Something had crashed down in her orchard. And it had crashed hard. Smoke rose up in an expanding plume.

“Oh my gosh, my trees!”

They could not afford to lose any tree to fire! Without thinking, she unhooked the cart and galloped in the direction of the smoke. The closer she got, the more sparks and smoke whipped around her face, but she did not care. There was something besides just smoke in the air. It felt charged, like it was brimming with static electricity.

Her mind raced through every worst-case scenario. Fire! The word repeated like a drumbeat in her brain. The apples - her family’s livelihood - could be gone in an instant if there was a fire and she did not put it out. Her legs ached but she pushed forward, driven by fear and urgency.

Yet when she reached the source of the smoke, she skidded to a halt. There was no fire. Instead, the familiar rows of apple trees had been torn apart, trunks splintered and branches scattered. At the centre of the devastation was something she had never seen before: an enormous crater carved into the earth itself; its edges blackened. Smoke rose in curling tendrils; the air shimmering with heat so intense that it made her eyes water even at a distance.

Applejack stared in disbelief. Her first absurd thought was that this might be some punishment from the manor house. Maybe Lord Flintheart or Rarity had sent something down from their magic towers because the apple Strawberry Sunrise had smashed had left the tithe short –

She shook her head. “Don’t be foolish, Applejack,” she scolded herself. Even unicorn magic couldn’t do this.

Could it?

A low groan made her ears prick. It was the sound of somepony in pain.

And it was coming from inside the crater.

“Hello?”

Applejack took a cautious step closer. The heat radiating from the crater was suffocating. She squinted against the haze, her hooves crunching on the scorched grass as she crept to the edge. The closer she got, the more the heat made her fur prickle and her lungs ache.

Another pained groan pushed her forward.

Peering into the crater, she could hardly believe her eyes. At its centre lay a pony unlike anything she had ever seen before. The creature’s body seemed fragile yet impossibly graceful, a blend of power and elegance. Its wings, splayed out around it, shimmered faintly even in the dim light. Sheathing its body was a magical aura, glow dimming as if the creature was too exhausted to keep casting the protective spell with its horn.

Wings.

And a horn.

Applejack stared, torn between awe and disbelief.

“What in Equestria…?”

Every instinct told her to turn back – but something about the figure drew her forward, like a whisper directly into her brain that she could not ignore.

“Hey there,” Applejack called, her voice barely audible over the crackling of heat from the crater. She took a hesitant step forward, but the searing air forced her back. The closer she got, the more it felt like standing in the heart of a forge; her skin prickled, her throat burned, and she could barely keep her eyes open against the intense temperature. “Can you hear me down there?”

The figure in the crater stirred, drawing a sharp breath from Applejack as it shifted slightly amidst the smouldering earth. She felt a flicker of relief when she saw the faint rise and fall of its chest; proof that it was alive, though barely. Slowly, it lifted its head and opened its eyes.

Applejack froze. Its eyes were a deep, luminous violet. Even through the haze of pain they seemed to pierce and pin her, pulling her in with an intensity she could not explain. They weren’t just beautiful; they were otherworldly. For a moment, she forgot the heat radiating from the crater, forgot the devastation around her, forgot the morning’s humiliation and all her worries. All she could do was stare and let herself be overwhelmed by the unexpected beauty before her. She had never seen anything like this being before; nothing so powerful, so fragile, and so utterly captivating all at once.

Before she could find her voice, a faint glow surrounded the creature’s horn, trembling like a dying flame. Its body, surrounded by the glow, began to lift up. The sight broke Applejack from her trance. The creature was trying to move itself out of the crater.

“Hold on now,” she called. “Don’t overstrain yourself there! You’re hurt!”

The being’s horn flared brighter. Its body floated upward, wings dangling limply behind it. The once-glimmering feathers were charred and tattered, and the joints bent at unnatural angles. Deep slashes crisscrossed the being’s sides, oozing blood that dripped onto the scorched earth below with a hiss.

“Oh my gosh …” Applejack breathed.

The creature managed to levitate itself just past the edge of the crater before the magic faltered and it fell to the ground. Applejack darted forward, her instincts overriding the heat still radiating from the figure. She caught it just before it hit the dirt, her forelegs wrapping around its trembling frame.

“Whoa there, sugarcube!” The being was alarmingly light in her hold, its broken wings limp against her sides. Its head lolled weakly and its breaths were shallow. “You’re hurt bad,” Applejack murmured, her heart aching at the sight.

The being’s eyes fluttered open, locking with hers once more. Those violet eyes, though clouded with pain, held a depth that seemed endless; beautiful, haunting, and burdened by something far greater than she could fathom.

The creature’s cracked lips parted, and it spoke in a husky voice that might have been beautiful once. “I... tried.”

“Tried? What?” Applejack leaned closer, instinctively tightening her hold as if to anchor the being to the moment. “No, wait. Don’t try to talk, sugarcube. You’re hurt real bad –”

“He’s coming.”

“What? Who’s comin’?”

The creature’s eyes fluttered again, struggling to stay open. “We tried to stop him,” it murmured, each word laboured but urgent. “All of us. Celestia... Luna... even Cadence and me...” Its voice cracked and Applejack had the impression of tears. “But we failed. He’s coming. We couldn’t stop him. We were meant to protect this world but we couldn’t stop him.”

The weight of those words pressed down on Applejack, though their meaning eluded her.

“Hush now,” she murmured instead. “It’s okay. I got you. You’re safe now. I’ll get you medical attention. My granny is the best medicine mare this side of anywhere.”

“You don’t understand,” the being murmured, beautiful eyes sliding shut. “You’re mortal. Of course, how could you ever understand?”

“Mortal?” Applejack echoed.

“Silly, well-meaning mortal pony,” the being whispered, head lolling forward against Applejack’s chest. “He’s coming …”

Applejack swallowed. “Who is?”

“ … Discord …”

Applejack froze, the name echoing in her mind like a tolling bell.

Discord.

It was a name she had only ever heard whispered in old stories and half-forgotten sermons. Her Pa had believed in such things once, and she remembered the faded murals in the town’s crumbling chapel - images of radiant creatures locked in a desperate battle against a monstrous figure made of chaos and destruction. Discord, the great corrupter, the bringer of ruin, the enemy of harmony itself.

Her gaze drifted down to the being cradled in her forelegs, its broken wings limp, its body fragile yet somehow imbued with an unearthly grace. Her heart skipped a beat as understanding dawned. She was holding one of them – a fallen angel. Not just any pony, but a creature from the heavens themselves. This was no ordinary being. This was something sacred, divine. And it had fought the world’s greatest evil to protect them, just like the scriptures said.

And it had lost.

Applejack swallowed hard, the weight of it all pressing down on her. For a moment, the farm, the manor house, and even her family felt a world away. She was holding the impossible, and that impossibility had spoken of doom.

“Discord,” she whispered, her voice trembling as the name left her lips, filled with fear and a dawning sense of responsibility.

Author's Note

Been a hot minute since I updated this collection, but I've been in a real Twijack-y mood lately.