Chapters Crisis of Infinite Twijacks
Zombie Apocalypse
Twilight hunkered down and tried not to breathe too loud. Her throat hurt. Her hooves hurt. Her belly hurt. Every atom of her wanted to fall on her side and cry until they found her or she died of exhaustion: whichever came first. She did neither of those things. Instead, she pressed into the lee of the broken wall and tried to become one with the masonry.
She heard the slavering before the tell-tale drag-slap of mismatching legs. How many did this one have? Maybe if it was just one, she could handle it. Those moved so slowly even somepony like her could jump on a skull and come out victorious. She closed her eyes and listened intently.
At least two distinctive hoofsteps. One was squelchier than the other. Rotting flesh maybe? The earth was dry and cracked from lack of rain so it wasn’t mud. Was that the sound of a torso being dragged along behind it? Or just her imagination hoping for something a scared filly could actually fight without dy-
A scream interrupted her thoughts. Her eyes flew open, taking in the sudden immensity of putrid mouth and shiny black spittle in her vision. Twilight squealed and dived sideways, narrowly avoiding the ghoul’s jaws trying to clamp on her neck. Her nose landed perilously close to straggly, shredded guts and she cursed herself for concentrating so much on the thing outside that she had missed the one in here with her.
“Flessssssshhhhhhhh …”
The thing shrieked, spraying her with tar-like ichor. Twilight scrambled and slid through its guts, tiny hooves skidding in putrefaction. Then she ran. She heard it continue to shriek behind her, accompanied by a similar noise from the one outside. More joined the ruckus, drawn by the cries. She was trapped. If she went outside, she would be caught. If she stayed in here, they would get in through the holes in the walls and useless, empty doorframes.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. She kept running into the next room, which turned out to be a kitchen. She fumbled her way onto the counter. Height, she thought vaguely. Get out of their reach. Standing amidst the pots and pans, she craned her neck to look out the broken window. Ghouls lurched across the street towards the house. She squeaked, backing off and nearly falling off the countertop.
Hide! whispered a desperate part of her brain. Find somewhere to hide out of their reach until they forget you’re even here.
It would not be the first time she had done that. Ghouls’ rotting brains could not hold onto more than base instincts and if you could stay hidden and silent for long enough, they eventually wandered away. Ever since the cursed Summer Sun Celebration that had started all this, Shining had drilled into her the importance of staying safe to stay alive. At first, he had insisted on it so that he could put himself in danger instead of her. He had been the food-forager, the shelter-finder, the one with the reassuring words when she was shivering at night. Now it was just her, frightened and trying her best to remember what he had taught her.
She clambered into a cupboard above the countertop, shoving her little body way in the back and pulling an old cloth shopping bag over her for good measure. Then she waited, trying hard not to shake, not to cry, not to breathe too loud.
She heard the ghoul that had nearly bitten her drag its way into the kitchen and slither across the floor. She heard another bump and stumble its way inside, groaning pitiably.
“Flessssssshhhhhhhh …”
More draggy footsteps. More ghouls. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Please don’t find me. Please don’t find me. Please don’t find me. Please don’t find me.
Something sniffed at the countertop where she had stood, like a dog tracking a scent in the old world; the world before the meteor bisected Celestia’s radiance at the ceremony and crashed in the middle of Canterlot, spreading its evil dust to replace all magic in Equestria with its own dark reanimation power.
Please don’t find me. Please don’t find me. Please don’t –
Hooves pawed awkwardly at the cupboard door.
“Flessssshhhh…”
No, no, no, no –
The door opened to reveal a ghoul with its lower jaw missing, tongue dangling limply down its exposed neck. It leaned in, slurring their horrible mantra into the cloth shopping bag that was no real protection against anything.
“Flesssssshhhhhhhh…”
“Get outta there, y’varmint!”
And then it was gone.
Noise. Splatters. Crunches. The ghouls stopped begging for flesh in a hail of splotchy, crunchy sounds that resolved into perfect, uncanny silence. Twilight’s breath caught in her throat. Was she dead? Had her spirit lifted out of her body so she would not have to endure the feelings that went with the noise of her own dismemberment?
“You okay in there, sugarcube?” asked a high-pitched, nasally voice.
Ghouls could not say more than that one word. Carefully, Twilight inched her way to the lip of the cupboard and peered down.
An orange earth pony filly stood amid a sea of destruction. Her hind hooves were stained with gore from the crushed skulls around her. It was clear to Twilight what had happened, though her mind whispered that it could not be so. The filly was wearing a raincoat, equally stained with black blood, and carried a backpack that apparently had not impeded her ability to knock the unlife from those terrible creatures.
“Hi there,” she said, smiling up at Twilight. “I saw you run in here but by the time I got in the place, you were already hidin’. Smart move, by the way. If in doubt, wait ‘em out.” She nodded and her words carried the certainty of Shining’s survival advice. “You okay, sugarcube?”
Twilight nodded. “They … they didn’t bite me.”
The relief that washed across the filly’s face was momentary but honest. Twilight wondered whether she would have had any compunction about putting her down like the ghouls if she had been bitten.
“Mighty glad to hear that. You need a hoof down from there?”
Twilight shook her head and inelegantly crawled down from her hiding place. She winced when her hooves touched down in the spreading black pools.
“You got somewhere to be?” the orange filly asked carefully. “Somepony to be there with?”
Old grief rose in Twilight's gullet. She shook her head. “My parents were lost in the first wave. It used to be just me and my brother, but now … it’s just me.”
Again, the emotion that washed over the orange filly’s face was momentary but so achingly heartfelt that Twilight had to look away. She wasn’t ready to face pity yet. There was still a chance Shining was out there somewhere and just couldn’t get back to her yet.
“Right, I guess you better come with me then. My family an’ I hail from Ponyville but a couple of us headed up here to look for survivors amongst you unicorn folks.” She looked around at the bodies. “Didn’t feel right, us bein’ safe on the farm while others ain’t got a lick of protection. We’re all kinds of fortified there; safest place left in all of Equestria, I reckon.”
Twilight licked her lips. She had seen the corner of a loaf of bread poking from the filly’s backpack. Her belly grumbled and she was suddenly very aware of all her protruding ribs and hollow cheeks. “Is … is that?”
“Oh! Right.” The orange filly reached into it and broke off a chunk. She gave it to Twilight, who instinctively, even now, went to hold it with her magic before remembering and offering a hoof instead. “You can eat while we walk. That commotion might bring more o’ these pesky things an’ we don’t wanna be here when they arrive. C’mon.”
Twilight walked three legged, holding the bread to her mouth with one foreleg as they hurried out of the house and along the abandoned street. She took tiny bites, the better to swallow without liquid. Her insides sang with the introduction of fresh food that wasn’t freeze-dried, canned or putrefied. After a few more carefully navigated streets, they paused for Twilight to catch her breath and finish her last mouthful.
“Not far now," whispered the orange filly. "My Pa set up camp on the outskirts, since the ghouls like more built up areas. Ma an’ my Granny an’ big brother stayed home, on account of the foal’s comin’ soon an’ Ma may need my brother to stand guard while Granny delivers it. You’re the first survivor I done actually found in this awful city. But don’t worry, we got plenty of room at the farm.”
Twilight had never been to a farm before. She had lived in Canterlot all her short life. Shining too. Maybe that was why they had stayed; clinging to ridiculous familiarity in a world so unfamiliar.
Shining can find me on a farm, can’t he?
The orange filly turned to face her. “Shoot, I ain’t even introduced myself. I’m Applejack, by the way.”
“T-Twilight Sparkle.”
“Don’t worry, Twilight Sparkle. You’ll be safe with the Apple Family. We’ll look after you from now on.”
Crisis of Infinite Twijacks
She raised her head when Tall White Coat came in earlier than usual. He was accompanied by Orange Beard, which was odd. Orange Beard never usually visited the lab on weekdays. The two humans tap-tap-tapped along the metal walkway, jabbering in that strange language of theirs. She watched in amazement as they stopped right by her cage and opened the one next door. Tall White Coat lifted the vet crate he was carrying and tipped it up, emptying the contents inside the neighbouring cage before hastily slamming the door and locking it. She noticed with interest that he used a combination lock, not just the standard metal catch. Whatever her new neighbour was, Tall White Coat really wanted it stashed securely.
Tall White Coat said something to Orange Beard. Orange Beard seemed angry. His bushy eyebrows pulled down in a scowl and though she could not understand the words, she recognised the anger in his tone. Tall White Coat sighed, gestured at the bank of mostly empty cages and said something that made Orange Beard throw up his hands and stalk through the nearest exit. Tall White Coat turned back, murmuring softly to the newcomer. Tall White Coat was usually the best of the bunch when testing time came; he was gentle and tried to tempt subjects from their cages with treats instead of roughly snagging them with neck restraints like the other humans.
When he had also departed, she finally crept out from her bedding pile of wood shavings and nosed at the glass divider between her cage and the newcomer’s. The newcomer was huddled in the corner, shaking. New subjects varied in how they reacted to the cages; some trembled like this one, some fought and kicked and tried to buck their way out until humans came and made clipboard notes on their behaviour. She had seen one poor yellow creature just sit, insensate, in the middle of the cage and do nothing for days until they took it away again.
“Hello?” she called through the glass.
The newcomer twitched.
“Can you understand me?”
Another twitch.
“Hi there. It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”
Slowly, the thing uncurled. Her breath caught in her throat. The resemblance was uncanny.
“Hello,” the newcomer said meekly.
She blinked. “What … are you?”
Averted eyes. Shame was so rare around here she didn’t recognise it at first. “I’m … a Twilight.”
Involuntarily she shook her head. There was no way.
“A variant,” the newcomer amended. “Our line wasn’t … selling well so they … upgraded our design.” She twitched the fluffy purple wings that were now impossible to miss. “What are you?”
She came back to herself with a jolt. The resemblance was there but this wasn’t her . “Oh, me? I’m just a standard issue Applejack. I don’t think they’ve changed our design since Stage One.” She rubbed at the back of her head. “Well, there was that piebald prototype but they scrapped that almost as soon as they started.” She shrugged, pushing away thoughts of the oddly proportioned creature at the other end of the cages that hadn’t been able to walk on its ill-designed hips.
The newcomer nibbled at a lower lip. The action was so startlingly familiar that it caused her to sit on her rump to get her bearings. She cleared her throat, causing the newcomer to look up at her briefly.
“I … knew a Twilight once,” she said carefully. “She lived in that cage too. We talked a lot through the glass. She wanted to break out.”
The newcomer’s eyes rounded. “Did she?” came the breathless question. Hope. She recognised that emotion.
She dropped her gaze and toed the wood shavings. “Nah. Got her door open. Could probably have made a run for it. She worked out we’re all small enough to fit through a sewer pipe if we can get the grate off the entrance. But she came back for me. Got caught. I never saw her again. She should have kept running, not turned back."
“That’s awful.”
“Yup.” No point in denying it. “But it ain’t all awful around here. Sometimes the humans take us out for testing but a lot less than they used to. And you’re the first new variant I’ve seen in a while. What are you, Stage Two? Three?”
The newcomer’s chin dropped onto her chest. “Fifteen.”
Her jaw fell open. “Fifteen? ”
“They said they couldn’t get the wing design right. No-one wants to buy something with decorative wings that can’t actually fly but … the shape of the ribcage in a standard Twilight couldn’t withstand the pump action of wings. The ribs kept shattering or their chest cavities broke open completely, plus the bones in a Twilight are too heavy for flight. It took a lot of trial and error to get a prototype that has both function and aesthetic.” One purple wing gestured with the elegance of a human hand. “Me.”
She balked at the thought of Stages Two through Fourteen and their fates. “Well … ain’t that sumthin’,” she said eventually.
The newcomer curled into a ball and started to cry. “Will they sell me to some human child eventually?” she sobbed. “Or just keep me here and poke and prod at me some more until something in me breaks beyond repair and they figure out that design flaw too in Stage Sixteen?”
She was galloping to the glass divider before she could think better of it. “Hey! Hey now, don’t cry. It’s all right.”
“Nothing is all right.”
“Well … okay you got me there. But that’s not to say we can’t work on it.”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
Her eyes slid sideways to the sewer grate in the floor. “That horn of yours. In Stage One Twilights they were just for show. But you’re a Stage Fifteen with real workin' wings. Does … your horn work for real too?”
The newcomer’s head emerged from under her wing, streaked with tears but eyes wide with an entirely different emotion. “I … they ran tests … and the capacity is there, if not the conduit …”
“Huh?”
“It’s possible but our size makes it difficult. We’re too small for a lot of energy to pass through us without … making us explode.” She winced. “Twilight Fourteen,” she said by way of explanation. “They were still testing my functionality when there was an accident in the Research Wing and they had to put me in here while they fix the lab.”
“An accident?”
“A … fire.” For the first time, a small smile tugged at the corner of the newcomer’s mouth. “They couldn’t work out where it started.” A tiny glow appeared at the very tip of her horn.
She grinned. “Twilight Fifteen, I think this may be the start of a beautiful partnership.”
Crisis of Infinite Twijacks
3. Official Investigation
The paperwork said Apples. Looking around, Twilight thought it an uninspired name. Every tree was covered in bright red fruit. A sign above the entrance to the farm read: Sweet Apple Acres. It, alongside everything else she saw as she advanced on the front door, was decorated with apple motifs.
I’m sensing a theme here, she thought.
The door knocker was an apple. The door handle was an apple. She was willing to bet the wood of the door itself was applewood. Probably the porch, walls and rest of the sprawling house too.
If you find a theme, stick with it, I guess.
She lifted the knocker with her magic and knocked thrice, each one firm and loud. There was no way anypony inside could miss the noise. She added a small Increase Volume enchantment for good measure. Nevertheless, it took longer than it should have for someone to answer. The sensitivity charm she had laid on her own ears before arriving picked up on movement, at least three sets of hooves and three different whispering voices. Someone was being hustled up a set of stairs.
When the door finally cracked open, Twilight smiled brightly. “Good morning. May we please speak with Mr and Mrs Apple?”
“Um, in regards to what?”
At her side, Raven levitated up her medallion; the pendant they both wore to identify them as bureaucrats. Raven’s was inscribed with her inkwell and quill cutie mark and the insignia of the Records Bureau: a pair of arrows crossed over a scroll, fringed on either side by wings. “We are here on official business, if you please. If you would prefer, we can conduct this investigation here on your doorstep but I believed you may favour some privacy on this particular matter.”
The green eyes in the door crack widened, long lashes blinking faster. “You’re here from the palace?”
“Sort of.” Twilight winced; Raven was excellent at her job but terrible at personal relations. “Could we please come in?”
The green eyes hesitated before pulling the door open wide enough to allow ingress. Twilight fixed in place her best reassuring smile and walked ahead of Raven.
Inside, the apple theme continued. The wallpaper was an apple frieze, the mats they trotted across bore apple stitching and when they sat down in the dowdy living room the couch had cushions sloppily crocheted with apples that looked like the work of a child just learning the skill. An old mare sat in a rocking chair working on some knitting, eyes narrowed at thew newcomers suspiciously. She did not get up, nor did she speak, but Twilight got the feeling this pony was the true authority in this household. She could feel the mare’s amber gaze between her shoulder blades as they began their conversation.
“Mr and Mrs Apple,” Raven said austerely. “We are here in regards to your offspring.”
“Big Macintosh?” said Mr Apple.
“That is your son.” Raven consulted her clipboard. “We require consultation regarding your daughter.”
The couple exchanged a look.
“Apple Bloom?” queried Mrs Apple.
Raven’s expression could have curdled milk. “If you please, I would request that you not pretend ignorance. You know to which of your three offspring we refer.”
“We only have two,” Mr Apple protested. “Big Macintosh an’ Apple Bloom.”
“Only two officially registered,” Raven corrected.
The air seemed to leave the room. Twilight wished Raven was more circumspect about how she did things.
“Mr and Mrs Apple,” she interrupted gently. “Please allow me to introduce us: my name is Twilight Sparkle, I’m a member of the Records Bureau, and this is Raven Inkwell, my personal assistant.”
Raven cleared her throat.
Twilight resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “And technically I’m a princess – but it’s largely an honorary title.”
The corner of Raven’s mouth turned down ever so slightly. On anypony else it would have been a full-blown scowl. “That is debateable.”
“Not right now it isn’t,” Twilight responded in a clipped voice that strayed too close to annoyance for this conversation. She wanted to put the ponies whose home they have invaded at their ease and knew she was failing utterly. She rearranged her hooves beneath her and ruffled her wings. “Mr and Mrs Apple, I discovered some … anomalies in the records regarding your family.”
The mare, a soft pony whose mane fell in waves she had caught up in a scrunchie and who looked like she dearly wished this wasn’t happening, fumbled for her husband’s hoof. He moved to hold hers, swallowing it up in his own massive one. By contrast, where she looked fearful, Twilight saw only anger in his face. It increased the more she talked.
“We have records of your pregnancies, Mrs Apple. You home birthed all your children, yes?”
Silently she nodded.
“I was doula.” The old mare’s voice snapped out like a whipcrack. “Delivered all my grandfoals. Includin’ the ones who didn’t make it past their first breath.”
Twilight turned to meet her gaze. The old mare’s was challenging, as if daring Twilight to contradict her.
“We have records of five pregnancies,” Twilight said delicately. “You were doula on all five?”
“Yessum.” The knitting needles clicked relentlessly. “An’ I helped with the three burials that were needed too. We Apples take care of our own, even in death.”
“That’s very caring of you.”
“Though not strictly truthful,” Raven chimed in.
The old mare’s knitting needles did not miss a beat. “What’re you implyin’?”
“I am implying nothing, Mistress Smith.” Of course Raven already knew who this was. She had a mind like a steel manticore trap. Inwardly, Twilight kicked herself for not realising too. This was the Apple Family matriarch. No wonder she had sensed such power from her. “I am stating plainly that you reported the deaths of three foals in childbirth when there were, in fact, only two.”
Mrs Apple’s strangled noise made Twilight’s head snap around. She had half-collapsed against the gigantic stallion who was now glaring at her and Raven with unconcealed loathing.
“Please don’t misunderstand!” Twilight hastily raised her hooves in a placating gesture. “We’re not here to punish you!”
“Hmmph.” Mistress Smith managed to pour her entire eloquent response into that single grunt. Distrust of the crown rolled off her so thickly it was like a smell in the room.
“We’re not!” Twilight insisted.
“We h-have two children,” Mrs Apple said shakily. “Big Macintosh an’ Apple Bloom.”
“We registered them fully an’ legally,” added Mr Apple. “All above board exactly as we were s’posed to. An’ we registered their brothers an’ sister who passed too. If’n you’re really from the Records Bureau you’d know that.”
Twilight nodded. “I saw the death certificates.” She summoned the names from her memory. “Cortland Apple, Apple Flan and Applejack. Deaths registered at five days after birth, fourteen days after birth and day of birth.”
Mrs Apple’s eyes filled with tears. Guilt sluiced through Twilight. This mare had carried each of those foals for eleven months. She could only imagine what that was like; to spend so long nurturing and looking forward to seeing your baby, only to have it snatched away by the whims of fate.
She reminded herself why she was here. “Mrs Apple, Mr Apple, Mistress Smith … I know Applejack survived.”
The knitting needles continued to click but now the noise was harsher, more aggressive, and the voice that came with it was too. “That is a horrific thing to say. Applejack died before she even left her mother’s womb. We buried her in the family graveyard over yonder ourselves, right next to her brothers. You’re plenty welcome to look.”
“If she did, she wouldn’t find a body in that grave,” said Raven. “Whatever you buried, it was not your granddaughter.”
Mr Apple got to his hooves. “These are cruel, untrue accusations an’ I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, if’n you please.”
Twilight shook her head. “Legally you, ah, can’t actually throw me out. And I want to make it clear, I’m not here to punish you or anything like that. At this stage only myself and Raven know what I’ve discovered. And I have my reasons for not making it known to the Head of the Records Bureau like I was supposed to.”
Raven’s nose twitched. Twilight knew she had wanted to skip over the Head of the Records Bureu and go right to Celestia herself with Twilight’s theory but she had deferred to Twilight on the condition that she come with her to Ponyville to confirm her findings.
“You falsified your daughter’s death certificate, Mr Apple,” Raven said instead. “Legally, we could have you arrested for that.”
“Get outta my house!” Mr Apple yelled.
“Bright Mac!” Mrs Apple got to her own hooves and stood in front of him. “Bright! No!”
He looked down at her, sides heaving. Whatever he saw in her face made his thunderous expression melt into something like despair. He sagged back into his seat, face in his massive hooves.
“We knew this might happen someday,” Mrs Apple whispered, embracing him. “We knew.”
“No, no, no, no,” he muttered brokenly. “We were so careful. It can’t all have been for nuthin’.”
Twilight looked between them both. “I … what exactly do you think is going to happen here?”
“You’re gonna take her away,” said Mr Apple. “You’re gonna execute her.”
Twilight’s jaw dropped. “Where in Celestia’s name did you get that idea?”
Mrs Apple looked up at Twilight, her tears falling freely now. “She ain’t … she wasn’t born … normal. Ponies like her don’t … get to stay in Equestria.”
Twilight frowned. She had suspected the reason they had lied about her premature death and roped in a doctor from their own family to fill out a false death certificate to perpetuate the lie. It had taken her a long time to track down the retired and reclusive Doctor Apple Pips after her gut feeling told her something was wrong with the Apple Family paperwork. She didn’t often have hunches but when she did, they were usually accurate enough that even a stickler like Raven was willing to let her see it through to its conclusion. Irritatingly, Raven seemed to think it was part of her ‘princess powers’, no matter how much Twilight tried to correct her.
Twilight’s ears flicked. It took her a moment to realise what suddenly felt wrong. The knitting needles had stopped clicking.
She turned to see Mistress Smith getting out of her rocking chair. “You’ll see,” she said simply. “An’ then you’ll see why she’s doin’ nopony no harm as she is an’ should be allowed to stay with us like she’s done all her life.” She creakily trotted past Twilight and Raven, indicating they should follow her.
It took several minutes to climb the staircase. Twilight assumed the second floor was for bedrooms and at least one bathroom. Granny Smith faced a blank wall and Twilight watched in fascination as a hidden door revealed itself, opening onto a further set of stairs. She had not even sensed that door and her extra sensory perception was the strongest of all her peers! They ascended these too, past stark wooden beams and bare boards that lacked the apple motif from the rest of the house. The place had the lick of magic to it and she wondered whether this was a pocket of space hidden away where nopny from the Bureau of Architecture could see it on a blueprint. It would take a tremendous amount of power to achieve such a thing for any sustained amount of time. She watched Mistress Apple laboriously climb the stairs with new respect.
At the top of the winding staircase was a door. It was plain and had no doorknob. Twilight sensed the extremely strong locking charm that had been attached from the outside. Whoever was in there, they could not get out unless they were released by someone from this side of the door. Mistress Smith unlocked the charm as if it was nothing and went in. Twilight followed, feeling Raven on her heels.
Inside was a bedroom. Twilight stared. A lasso hung on a peg on the far wall, next to a hat remarkably like the one Mr Apple had been wearing. A little door to the right led to an en suite . Books were everywhere, crammed onto shelves and teetering in piles that all looked ready to fall over at the slightest breeze. They were even on the neatly made bed, spread out as if someone had been recently reading them. Twilight noted a few of the spines, realising they were all practical tomes about things like farming skills, mathematics and engineering. There were even books stacked beneath an electric kettle plugged into the wall and the jars of instant coffee and powdered milk next to it. On a nearby desk was a sheaf of papers covered with pristine diagrams and wobbly writing about a new design for something called a ‘combine harvester’. The pencil had teeth marks in its end.
“Applejack,” said Mistress Smith curtly. “Come on out.”
Twilight watched as an orange hoof slid out from up the bed, followed by a leg, then a torso, until an entire pony was pulling herself to her feet. She looked terrified, eyes huge as she looked at her grandmother and the ponies she had brought up here.
Twilight stared at her in wonder. This was quite possibly the prettiest mare she had ever seen. Her mane was like wheat waving in the sun, her eyes green as grass in springtime. Though her body was thin and lacked the taut outdoorsy muscles of the rest of her family, her nose and cheeks were sprinkled with freckles that must have come from sun shining through the skylight above the desk. This was not a pony who went outside much even though everything about her spoke of nature and life.
Granny Smith raised a wing. “Applejack here has the finest mind in all of Equestria when it comes to machinery an’ farmin’. Our yield increased twelvefold with her science an’ inventions. She’s a capable, valued, loved member of the Apple Family – even if she don’t got no wings nor horn.”
Twilight swallowed her suddenly dry throat. “H-Hello.” She coughed. “Hello, Applejack. I’m Twilight Sparkle.”
Applejack continued to flick her gaze between them all like a rabbit frozen before an oncoming cart.
“I’m not here to hurt you.” Twilight put a hoof to her chest. “I … want to help you.”
“Help me?”
Sweet Celestia, even her voice was pretty. How could anypony ever want to cleanse the Equestrian gene pool of such a pony? Twilight’s resolve hardened as she thought of the ponies back in Canterlot at the Bureau of Purity and their hard-line rules about those born deformed. She had always thought those rules cruel but she was in the minority. Most families who did birth deformed foals were happy to turn them over to the Purity Ponies and ‘keep Equestria strong’. They had thoroughly bought into the rhetoric that Equestria only maintained its vaunted status over other nations by purifying its bloodlines.
“Yes.” Twilight nodded firmly. “I’m from the Bureau of Records. I’m also Princess Celestia’s personal student, which affords me access to some of the more … restricted records around Equestria’s history. I’ve been doing research into an ancient magic called Ascension, from a time when Equestria was populated by ponies who lacked wings, or lacked a horn, or had neither.”
All of them were watching her. She had already said this to Raven and, despite her disapproval, Raven’s loyalty had remained true. She would not report Twilight for this. Secretly, Twilight hoped Raven shared her dream that she could make her research a reality and put an end to the Purity Ponies once and for all.
Twilight drew in a breath. This was the crux of her visit. If they rejected this … she wasn’t sure what she would do. She only knew she absolutely could not turn Applejack Apple in to the Bureau of Purity like she was supposed to.
“Applejack … I want you to let me help you ascend to alicornhood.”
Crisis of Infinite Twijacks
Queen Nightmare Moon lounged diagonally across her throne, one forehoof propping her chin, one thrown haphazardly over the side as if this entire situation bored her. The throne was caked in elaborate golden filigree and weapons of fallen enemies, which had been gilded and arrayed around her in an explosion of past victories. The whole thing sat upon a dais several times the height of an average pony, giving the queen range on top of her already formidable height to look down her nose at all who entered the royal hall. Her gossamer robe of expensive fabric shimmered at even her slightest movement, creating a rippling effect like sparkling water whenever she breathed or her undulating mane and tail brushed against it.
She would have been a vision of loveliness if not for the malicious insanity in her eyes. It was so obvious, so decidedly there that it was shocking. Applejack looked around - as far as her metal collar would allow - to see whether the guards had noticed too but they all kept their eyes turned down to the marble floor. Maybe they already knew enough about that prickling madness to also know not to look at the queen’s eyes directly, lest the violence also suggested there be turned upon them.
“Well now.” Queen Nightmare Moon’s voice boomed despite her speaking softly. Applejack’s ears flattened, which seemed to please her, if her smile was any indication. “Another earth pony? Is this really the best the duchies have to offer?”
“Duke Blueblood claimed the palace has exhausted his duchy’s currently supply of eligible maidens, Your Majesty,” said the unicorn guard holding one of the chains attached to Applejack’s collar.
“Blueblood is an idiot,” the queen said derisively. “If he wasn’t so painfully biddable I’d have cut off his head years ago.” She flicked a hoof at Applejack. “How old is this one?”
“Eighteen winters, Your Majesty.”
“Hmm. She looks older. Peasant living is terrible for the appearance.” The queen’s mouth twitched. “Well, hers at least. It will benefit mine well enough – though really, I would have preferred a unicorn or pegasus maiden over an earth pony .” The twitch became a sneer.
Despite her precarious predicament, Applejack’s hackles rose. “Earth ponies are just as valid as unicorns or pega-ugherk !” Her words devolved into a gurgle as the guard who had spoken tugged his chain so hard she nearly toppled over from her kneeling position.
Queen Nightmare Moon’s eyes flashed. “It’s been a while since I’ve had one of my baths.” She held up one naked hoof, bereft of the silver shoes she wore in all the paintings Applejack had been marched past on her way through the castle. The queen’s fur was midnight black, so dark that the yellow light from the braziers either side of her throne was thrown back as a blue sheen. She rubbed at the back of one hoof with the tip of her other, smoothing that fur so lovingly it was almost reverential. “Girl, do you know what I discovered after I ascended to rule over this pathetic little land?”
The guard held fast to the taut chain. Applejack had no breath to respond even if she had wanted to.
“Ponies were so very, very frightened of me and my power. They trembled in my presence. Tales of my exploits were already circulating. One day, a clumsy unicorn servant cut herself with a fruit knife while serving me a slice of apple. She was so scared of reprisal if she stopped that she kept on feeding me, even though I could see the blood flowing over her pretty white coat. It was amusing that she seemed to think that this resolve, this tenacity would please me; as if her being willing to bleed so that I should not have to wait for a bite to eat was the height of devotion. A few drops of her blood landed on me and, do you know what happened? Where it touched my coat it was revitalised. The dullness that had started to take hold from battling various rebellious duchy lords and ladies was undone . The tiredness I had begun to feel from taxing my powers vanished . I took the fruit knife and slashed the mare’s leg to the bone across her silly diamond cutie mark to test whether this was just a fluke. Her screams were beautiful but not as beautiful as my body wherever her blood fell. It was … a revelation.”
Applejack’s heart thudded so hard in her chest that she felt sure everypony else must be able to hear it.
The queen shrugged. “So I had her killed for her clumsiness and washed my entire body in her blood. And then, when my strength waned and my beauty began to falter, I did it again with another servant and once again restored myself. I’ve found it works best with maidens – the prettier and more magical, the better. But,” she sighed heavily, “I find it is harder and harder to come by suitable vessels in Canterlot – and the duchies only ever seem to have earth ponies of appropriate gender and age.” Her lip curled. “Earth ponies are so lacking in magic that it takes five maidens to have the same results as a single unicorn or a pair of pegasi.” The curl elongated into a vicious smirk. “So it’s a good thing you’re the fifth to arrive this day, girl.”
Black spots crowded Applejack’s vision. She had heard the rumours – they all had. In the beginning nopony had really believed them until the queen’s Hounds reached their far-flung duchy at the very edge of Equestria; rough, scarred stallions, hoof-picked by the queen herself, who rounded up all ‘eligible ponies’ according to her specifications and picked out those deemed best for the ‘royal needs’. Those maidens never returned after being taken away to the castle in distant Canterlot.
When the Hounds came to Ponyville, Applejack’s family had tried to hide her in the cider cellar until they left. She had crouched down there in the dark for three days, hungry and with nothing but a bucket for waste, before the Hounds flung the door wide and dragged her out by her mane. She had fought them, bucking with legs made strong by a lifetime of apple farming, but they had horns and wings and she had only her legs. Eventually she had been subdued, bundled into a carriage and driven away, fighting ceaselessly against the locks on the doors as she watched Sweet Apple Acres burn behind them. Her family had been left bound and gagged to watch their home and livelihood destroyed before their eyes as punishment for defying the crown. She supposed she should be glad they were still alive, at least. Many ponies had been killed for far less.
Like being young and pretty enough to be bled for her baths.
Queen Nightmare Moon rose from her throne, gossamer robe fluttering exquisitely. She descended the steps of the dais. “Guards, take her to the preparation room. Fetch the other four from the dungeon and put them in there too. Preparer Glimmer will join you there to drain them. I will be in my chambers. When it’s ready, bring the blood to me and I shall bathe.” She paused in front of Applejack. A tendril of cobalt magic sprang from her horn and forced the smaller mare’s chin up. Applejack was left with no option but to meet the mad queen’s gaze. “I hear you have a younger sister. For your family’s disobedience in attempting to hide you from my Hounds, I shall make her the first of my next five earth ponies.”
As if she had done nothing more than comment on the weather, she let her magic dissipate and trotted jauntily from the chamber. Applejack’s throat closed around her panic. Apple Bloom! She had to warn her! She had to tell Big Mac or Granny to get her out of Ponyville, out of the duchy – out of Equestria entirely!
Except that she could do no such thing. The guards holding the chains of her collar yanked her to her feet and dragged her to a small door on the opposite side of the chamber. Reflexively she fought them but one lashed out with his magic, cuffing her on the back of her head. She saw stars and stumbled.
“Careful!” barked another guard. “If you spill any of her blood and waste it, the queen will put your head on a spike on the battlements!”
Applejack staggered along, ears ringing. She was aware of passing through the small door and along a narrow dark corridor that angled downwards. One more guard marched behind them, cutting off any hope of escape even if she did escape the collar and two guards holding its chains. The walls curved, indicating the corridor formed a long spiral. It corkscrewed into the earth below the castle where the air tasted cold and dank.
The better to conceal the sound of ponies screaming , whispered a voice in the back of her mind.
The corridor ended in an unassuming wooden door, bolted across by a large plank of wood that sank into a hollow in the wall. The guard who had struck her knocked and waited. After a few moments the plank shot back and the door creaked inwards. A pony in a hood with holes cut for their eyes looked out.
“Is this the fifth?” The hooded pony’s voice was low, muffled somewhat by fabric across their mouth.
“Yes, Preparer Glimmer.”
“Bring her in then.”
They stepped back and swung the door wide, revealing within what could only be described as a chamber of horror. Applejack stared at the collection of monstrous devices and weapons that completely covered the walls. She recognised some, had no names for others, but knew the stench of blood and death that coated everything. This place had not been built so far below ground only to hide the sounds from within.
Yet what caught her attention more was the pile in the corner. A passing glance could mistake it for a quantity of neatly stacked cloth, maybe some blankets. More than a glance, however, and you could see that each layer was in fact the peeled and dried skin of a pony. Each pelt had legs splayed outward like a macabre fireplace rug, faces neatly sliced to remain intact with holes where their eyes and mouths used to be. They were stiff, having been treated for decomposition and arranged one on top of another, empty faces eternally gazing into the room where they had died. Applejack’s mouth hung agape, taking in the colours of coats, manes and tails that had once belonged to living, breathing ponies but now were nothing but decoration in this hidden slaughterhouse.
On the wall behind the pile a few pelts had been nailed to the wall for reasons known only to the pony who had put them there. Perhaps these were ponies who had made more of an impression than most. Perhaps they were the first who had ever been murdered down here. Perhaps the colours just appealed to their butcher and they had been arranged into an artwork that pleased their eyes only. A mint green unicorn dangled from an exceptionally long nail driven right through her skinned face. Tangled in her front legs, in a monstrous facsimile of playing music, hung a stringed instrument of some kind. Beside her, three ponies had been arranged as if dancing to her silent tune. The wings of a cyan pegasus with a multi-coloured mane and tail looked like they had been stuffed with wires to make them stand on end in spite of not having any musculature to keep them upright. One of that pony’s limp front legs had been tied into a knot with the front leg of a yellow pegasus with such a long pink tail that it brushed against the floor. All the skins had been carefully washed to remove the stains their amputation from their owners’ bodies would have caused. Between the two pegasi, cradled in the knot of cyan and yellow as if they were cradling her, was the skin of a small orange pegasus filly, the smallest of them all.
A literal child.
Applejack’s gorge rose. Something about that tiny skin, sewn and stapled into what should have been a loving embrace, struck a chord in Applejack’s brain that outweighed the rest of the grotesquery around it. To be so small, so young, yet still taken from your home and family so that your death could fuel the vanity of a mad queen …
A space had been cleared in the middle of the floor and a large metal trough set up there. Above it, dangling from an enormous hook securely embedded in the ceiling, was a thick chain that ended in a set of manacles. The other end of the chain snaked to the wall where a lever and pulley had been set up to hoist and lower these restraints. Beside the trough stood a wooden table, upon which was arrayed a selection of knives, spikes and a metal cleaver. These items had been sharpened and cleaned to a malicious shine. The old blood splatters on the floor around the trough had not.
Applejack’s legs locked. It was not a conscious decision. Her entirely body simply refused to move. The guards tugged on her chains but it was as if her joints were made of stone and would not bend to allow any forward movement.
“Move it!” growled the stallion behind her. He shoved her rump. Still she did not budge.
“Oh, screw this,” said the one who had hit her before.
Abruptly, the rope went slack. Applejack did not have time to process this before something struck the side of her head and everything went black.
She came to with her chin pressed to the floor. The world wobbled into focus, presaged by noises it took her a moment to recognise: whimpers and crying. Applejack blinked out of unconsciousness and into the realisation that she was no longer the only ‘eligible maiden’ in that horrible, blood-soaked room. She tried to get up, only to realise her hind legs had been roped together and her forelegs bound behind her back. She managed to roll onto her side but that was all she could do.
Four other mares sat and lay in similarly bound states around her. Each had also been gagged. Curiously, Applejack had not; she assumed because she had been too unconscious to make any noise. She almost wished she had not woken up at all; it would have been more merciful to face this kind of death without knowing it was coming.
At her movement, the mare closest to her turned. Tears spilled from her blue eyes, a shade darker than the blue and pink ringlets unravelling around her pale face. She spared only a glance for Applejack before turning back to gaze at the skins nailed to the wall. Beside her another mare, grey in mane, coat and rocks that formed her cutie mark, stared unerringly at the trough. A second grey mare lay trussed at her feet, black mane dishevelled and fur so thick with grime it nearly concealed her treble clef cutie mark. She was so similar to the first grey mare in appearance that Applejack wondered if they were related. The last mare was bright pink with fine yellow hair and the cutie mark of a white lily. It was from her that the majority of the weeping emanated – perversely fitting for a pony with a cutie mark befitting flowers at a funeral.
“Hlllp!” the pink mare squeaked.
Applejack wasn’t sure who the mare was talking to. Her? What was she supposed to do the help? She was just as restrained as the rest and still dizzy from being knocked out. The only ponies in the room were the bound earth ponies, three armoured guards and the hooded unicorn the lead guard had called ‘Preparer Glimmer’. This unicorn, she now saw, not only wore a full hood but also clothing that covered her from neck to hooftip and bagged up her tail. Her outfit was shiny, almost like plastic or treated leather.
The better to wipe off.
The unicorn was writing something in a large leather-bound book propped on a lectern. The scratch of quill nib and sparkle of magic were the only other sounds apart from the gagged mares’ crying. She placed the quill down and sighed.
“Preparer Glimmer?” the lead guard asked. “Are you ready to begin?”
Preparer Glimmer nodded. Her movements were mechanical, unemotional, as if she had done this too many times before to invest them with any feeling now. Murdering maidens was just a regular day for the Preparer of Queen Nightmare Moon’s baths.
One of the three guards trotted over to the wall, telekinetically unbuckling the manacles and lowering the chain using the pulley. Another advanced on the bound ponies, horn glowing. He picked up the mare with the blue and pink mane, who shrieked through her gag, inspiring fresh loud sobs from the mare with the lily cutie mark.
“No, that one first.” The lead guard pointed. “The pink one. Her noise is doing my damn head in.”
The other guard shrugged, dropped the pale mare and picked up the pink one instead. She screamed in earnest as she was lifted into the air, voice so high she sounded like a lost child. A memory sluiced through Applejack; years ago, when Ma and Pa were still alive and they had gone to the Summer Fete as a family. Apple Bloom, just a toddler, had wandered away while nopony was looking. Applejack found her under a table by following her tearful wails. She had carried her baby sister back to their mother, shushing her wailing all the while with nuzzles and grateful kisses pressed into the top of her head. The smell of Apple Bloom’s hair was suddenly so strong in her memory that she wanted to check to make sure she wasn’t actually here in this awful place.
“I hear you have a younger sister. For your family’s disobedience in attempting to hide you from my Hounds, I shall make her the first of my next five earth ponies.”
Something in Applejack snapped. “Stop it, y’varmints! Leave her alone!”
As one, all three guards and Preparer Glimmer stopped and stared at her.
“Who forgot to gag that one?” the lead guard demanded.
“Let her go!” Applejack shouted. “Let us all go! This is cruel an’ sick – an’ I’ll bet a barrel of apples you all know it too! Nightmare Moon ain’t even a real queen! She’s just some rotten usurper! We shouldn’t be bowin’ to her sick whims an’ makin’ her more powerful, we should be bandin’ together to fight against her ! She even admitted she only needs these baths when she’s weakened. Now’s the time to strike! We can defeat her an’ save Equestria!”
The lead guard stepped close, bending down to press his nose into Applejack’s face. “The Queen is the Queen,” he snarled. “And we’re all loyal to the Queen.”
The other two guards nodded in agreement.
“I changed my mind. Drain this one first. Silence her traitorous mouth.”
The pink mare dropped to the floor so heavily that it knocked the wind from her. She lay on her back, gasping for air. Applejack felt herself hoisted up by the second guard’s magic.
“Nightmare Moon ain’t my queen!” she yelled, her fear replaced by anger. “She ain’t nuthin’ but a no good, murderin’, evil fake ! Ow!”
The levitating manacles clamped tightly around her hind legs. The third guard turned the lever at the wall, shortening the chain so that when the one holding her dropped his magical field, Applejack dangled upside down over the trough. She struggled, wrenching her torso back and forth as if that would do anything.
“Do it quickly, Preparer,” the lead guard commanded. “The sooner that one’s throat is open, the better.”
“Oh, I’ll work quickly,” said Preparer Glimmer. Under her hood, her horn jingled with magic. The knives, spikes and cleaver all levitated off the wooden table together.
“Everything at once?” The lead guard started to laugh. “It’s always a pleasure to watch you work Preparer Glim-” His compliment ended abruptly; silenced by the spike that passed clean through his throat and out the back of his neck, neatly cutting his vocal chords and windpipe. A spray of blood arced behind him. His eyes bulged in surprise. They kept staring sightlessly as he sank to the ground.
On opposite sides of the room, the other two guards keeled over in tandem, each with a knife lodged firmly in the centre of his forehead. It was so quick, so unexpected, that for a moment Applejack did not register that they were dead.
“What the…?”
“Come on.” Preparer Glimmer’s magic wrapped around the manacles, breaking them apart as easily as if they were made of wet paper. “We haven’t much time.” Swiftly, she used the cleaver to cut the rope restraints and placed Applejack on her hooves on the floor. “Are you able to stand?”
“What … how …” Applejack stared. “Why …?”
“Can you stand ?” Preparer Glimmer insisted.
“Um, yes. I’ll be wobbly for a few minutes though.”
“Good enough.” Preparer Glimmer released Applejack from her magical field and turned it on the other four bound mares. “I’m not here to harm you. I’m going to set you free. But you must stay quiet and listen to my instructions very carefully if you want to live to see tomorrow.”
Applejack watched as she systematically and precisely released the prisoners.
When the mare with the treble clef cutie mark took off her gag, she rasped, “Who are you? I’ve been in the court orchestra for two years. I’ve seen Preparer Starlight Glimmer. She’s nearly as mad as the queen and twice as vile.” She gestured at the skins in the corner. Well, that explained who was responsible for those. “You are not Preparer Starlight Glimmer.”
The hooded pony blew out a breath. “No, I’m not. But I am here to save you. Well, it’s not my only reason for being here, but I’m definitely not leaving you behind to be slaughtered. I made a deviation from my original plan when I realised the fifth of you had been brought in and the schedule for draining you all had been moved forward.”
Applejack stepped forward. “Who are you, stranger? Why are you here savin’ us?”
Another sigh, this one frustrated. “Isn’t enough that I am?”
“You’re workin’ against the queen.”
“Yes.”
“I wanna help.”
That gave the hooded pony pause. “You … what?”
“She burned down my family farm. Tried to butcher me. Promised to do it to my kin, too, for the crime of them lovin’ me enough to hide me. You’re workin’ against her. I wanna help.”
“Me too.” The mare with the treble clef cutie mark rose shakily to her hooves. “This mare is right. Nightmare Moon is nothing but a usurper and we should be working to take her off the throne. Even if we die trying, I’d rather that death than this one.” She nodded at the trough and torture devices.
“I want to help too,” the pale mare with the two-toned hair said grimly. “That … that creature stole my wife and drained her blood for one of these baths , then her barbaric lapdog Preparer Glimmer defiled her body to put her skin on her wall . I want revenge.”
“I want to go home,” the pink mare sniffled. “I just want to go home.”
“I don’t have a home anymore,” the grey mare with the cutie mark of rocks murmured, voice so soft it was barely audible. “The queen already took all my sisters. I was the last. Mother and Father tried to hide me but …” She trailed off, eyes haunted and dark.
Applejack tossed her head, trying to clear the last of the dizziness from her thoughts. “I’m Applejack. If you’re against the false queen, I’m with you to the end.”
The hooded pony looked between all of them several times, clearly bewildered. Whatever she had expected to happen after she killed the guards and freed them, this was not it. For a moment, it seemed like she might reject them. Then she sighed one last time and pulled off her hood.
The face underneath was smudged with dirt and damp from sweat, purple fur tufting in odd peaks and troughs. Her mane had been tied back into a practical braid and she wore no make-up, yet Applejack’s heart leaped all the same. This was quite possibly the loveliest pony she had ever seen; not beautiful like Nightmare Moon but with a pragmatic kind of allure that made her stomach flutter in spite of their awful situation.
“My name is Princess Twilight Sparkle.”
Applejack’s jaw dropped. So did the other mares’. They all knew that name.
“Princess Twilight Sparkle?” the treble clef mare echoed. “But … that can’t be. You’re dead. Nightmare Moon killed you when she …”
“When she murdered my mother, Queen Celestia, and usurped her throne,” the lost alicorn princess finished grimly. “Yes, well, luckily there were enough ponies still loyal to my mother to smuggle me out of the castle and keep me safe all these years. And now.” Her brows lowered into a grim scowl. “I’m going to take back my throne, overthrow my aunt and save my ponies before she can hurt any more of them.”
The flutter in Applejack’s stomach spiralled outward into a sense of warm security. This, she thought, was what being in the presence of real royalty felt like.
“We’re with you, Princess Twilight,” she promised, meaning every word.
Author's Note
This one takes inspiration from the book 'What Once Was Mine' by Liz Braswell.
Crisis of Infinite Twijacks
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.
Crisis of Infinite Twijacks
Twilight adjusted her apron for the third time that morning. It was a quiet ritual to steady herself before the rush began. The scent of freshly brewed coffee swirled around her as she moved to her station behind the counter at Celestia’s Caffeine, Ponyville University’s premiere coffee shop. The soft chatter and clink of mugs created a cosy backdrop that did exactly nothing to assuage her jumpy nerves. Her eyes darted to the door every few seconds, then darted away again, even though there was no way anypony inside knew what she was doing. Even so, to cover herself she ignited her horn to grind more coffee beans.
Any minute now.
The door swung open with a cheerful jingle of the bell. 8:30am on the dot. Twilight could set her watch by it, if she wore a watch. which she did not, because watches were nerdy and she was doing her level best to shed the nerd persona she had acquired in high school. Memories of being mocked for genuinely enjoying learning and asking questions in class were a constant hum of cringe in the back of her mind.
That isn’t you anymore. You’re not that filly now. You’re a strong, cool mare who hasn’t spent all morning waiting to see … her.
The golden-maned earth pony who had been haunting Twilight’s daydreams for weeks. Strong, sure and sun-kissed, with a coat the colour of a summer wheat field and eyes like the first leaves of spring.
“Mornin’, sugarcube,” the mare said with a smile that could rival the sunrise. She always said it like they were old friends. Like it wasn’t the first time Twilight’s heart skipped a beat.
“G-Good morning!” Twilight stammered. She reached for her notepad, her magic sparking slightly as she fumbled to hold it steady. She cursed herself for being such a nerd . “The usual?”
“Yup.”
“Large black coffee, extra shot of espresso, five sugars.”
The mare got on her hind legs to leaned one elbow casually against the counter. “You always remember. That’s mighty impressive.”
“I, um, have a good memory,” Twilight mumbled, feeling absurdly proud of herself for such a simple feat.
The mare chuckled. Twilight swore it was the sweetest sound she had ever heard. She turned away quickly to prepare the coffee, grateful for the excuse to compose herself. Her hooves moved on autopilot as she worked - grind, tamp, pour, steam - but her mind spun.
What was her name? She had been coming in every morning for weeks now, always ordering the same thing, always chatting with Twilight like it was the highlight of her day. She was clearly also a student at the university but Twilight had not yet managed to figure out what she was studying. Nor had she ever heard anypony else say the mare’s name. She always came in alone and left alone. Twilight wanted to know more. She wanted to ask about the faint twang in the mare’s voice, the way her eyes seemed to sparkle when she talked about the weather, how casual yet purposeful she was in everything she did. Yet every time she tried, the words got caught in Twilight’s throat.
Just talk to her, she told herself. You can do this. It’s easy. Just ask her for her freaking name! Twilight set the steaming takeaway cup on the counter with a nervous smile. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, sugarcube.” The mare slid a few bits across the counter, her eyes lingering on Twilight for just a moment longer than necessary. It made the fur at the base of Twilight’s neck stand on end. “You’re a real lifesaver in the mornin’, you know that? Don’t know how I’d make it through class without this.”
Twilight’s heart fluttered. She wanted to say ‘hey, what class is that? And what is your name? And how do you feel about filly-foolers?’ Instead, all that squeaked out was: “I-I’m just doing my job.”
“Well, you do it mighty fine.” The mare tipped her hat - a weathered Stetson that only added to her rustic charm - and turned to leave. “Much obliged.”
As the door jingled shut, Twilight let out a breath she had not realised she was holding. She thought about the takeaway cup she just given the mare. On the side, in neat, swirling letters, she’d written a message she hoped the mare would notice: My name is Twilight.
It was bold, by her standards, but she was tired of just imagining what it would be like to talk beyond the safe, scripted exchanges of customer and barista. Maybe tomorrow, she would muster the courage to ask the mare her name too. Or maybe she would write something else on tomorrow’s cup, hoping it would start a conversation.
For now, she would settle for watching her walk down the street through the coffee shop window, sunlight catching in her golden mane, her rump swaying hypnotically with each confident step.
Tomorrow , Twilight promised herself. Tomorrow .
Applejack stepped out of Celestia’s Caffeine, the cool morning air biting at her cheeks. She cradled her coffee cup in one hoof, the warmth of it comforting. Yet it did little to calm the anxiety stirring in her chest. Her eyes flicked down again to the side of the cardboard cup and the hornwriting there: My name is Twilight.
Twilight. It was pretty. It suited the pretty barista mare.
No matter how cold the air, it could not dampen the lingering warmth in Applejack from their interaction inside. The way Twilight’s eyes had softened when they made eye contact. The way her voice had faltered just slightly when she said ‘good morning’. When she spoke to her at the counter, everything had seemed to simple and easy. Her flirty words had come out without even trying. But now that she was standing outside with only her thoughts, her nerves were back in full force.
"Okay, Applejack," she muttered to herself. “Tomorrow. That’s a promise. She’s given you an opening now. Tomorrow, you’re gonna walk right in there and just ask her out. Simple as that. You can do this.” She nodded, but even as the words left her mouth, the doubt crept in. “Well, maybe not ask her out right away. You don’t even know if she’s into mares. Just ... talk to her. Get a little conversation goin’. Keep it casual.”
She took another sip of her coffee. Her eyes dropped back to the name written on the side. Her mind drifted back to the way Twilight had spoken; always so precise with her words, so confident in her own skin. It was hard not to notice how effortlessly smart she was. She clearly had the kind of depth Applejack could only dream of.
She had seen the textbooks on the side from when Twilight had been reading them before the morning rush. Twilight was studying Astrophysical Magic; something truly impressive, which made Applejack’s stomach churn with insecurity every time she thought about it. Twilight wasn’t just any student. She was the kind of student who could probably quote Kepler off the top of her head and rattle off formulas with that calm, collected smile on her face, like it was no big deal. It was the kind of thing that made Applejack feel ... well, small.
Applejack was majoring in agricultural studies. It wasn’t a bad major but it sure felt a lot less important compared with what Twilight did. Applejack spent her days in the field, studying crop rotation, soil health and sustainable farming practices. While she loved the work and the connections to the land, it wasn’t glamorous like Astrophysical Magic. It didn’t inspire awe in the same way.
"Why would she ever be interested in someone like me?" Applejack sighed, shoulders slumping. "She’s into the stars, the universe, big ideas and all that. And here I am, stuck with dirt under my hooves, studying the earth itself."
Twilight was smart, sophisticated, and driven. She was the kind of mare who spent late nights in the library and easily discussed complex theories with professors. Meanwhile, when she wasn’t getting dirty in the fields, Applejack was working hard to keep things running back home. Not that it wasn’t important - of course it was - but she could not shake the certainty that Twilight was on a whole different level. A unicorn like Twilight was too good for a plain old earth pony like Applejack
"I don’t even know how to hold a conversation with her outside of asking for coffee. What if I go in there tomorrow and she just looks at me like I’m some dumb pony who don’t belong in her smarter-than-smart world? She deserves someone who gets the stuff she knows. Someone who’s got the same intellectual spark. You’re just gonna make a fool of yourself, AJ. She’s probably got all sorts of brilliant stallions around her. Why would she be interested in a mare like me, who can barely string together a decent sentence without sounding like a country bumpkin?"
But even as she said the words, a part of her could not help but hope. After all, Twilight had written her name on Applejack’s coffee cup.
“Maybe… she’ll see something more than just the farm girl.” Applejack bit her lip, staring at the loopy writing. Her heart thudded juts a bit faster at the prospect. “Maybe... I could ask her out eventually. I just gotta start simple, is all.”
The voice of doubt rose inside her again almost immediately. It sounded an awful lot like Grand Pere. You’re not even in the same league. Why would someone like her look at an apple farmer you? It was the same voice he had used when he found out she was going to university instead of coming to work for him like he had planned.
Applejack sighed again, tipping her hat lower to shield her eyes. She picked up her pace, trying to push the swirling thoughts away, but it was no use. They followed her every step. Could the cutest barista she had ever met see her as more than just a customer with dirt on her hooves?
My name is Twilight.
"Tomorrow," Applejack whispered. "I’ll try tomorrow. I just gotta start simple. Like introducin’ myself.”
