Killing All the Right Ponies

by ObabScribbler

Rating: teen
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash, Romance, Braeburn, Tragedy, Pinkie Pie
Length: 15781

An Apple family member comes to Ponyville to make angry demands of Princess Twilight in the middle of a personal crisis.

“I heard you two mention the sickness. Nasty business, that.”

Applejack set her jaw. “Yeah. It is. Lotta good ponies who did nuthin’ wrong sufferin’ from it.”

“Good? Seriously? Those degenerate colt-cuddlers?” Spoiled Rich chuckled. “Well as far as I’m concerned, it has only one thing going for it – it’s killing all the right ponies.”

An Apple family member makes angry demands of Princess Twilight in the middle of a personal crisis.

Trigger warnings for HIV, the AIDs Crisis, homophobia and death.

I started writing this back in early 2018. It took me three years to finish because of the subject matter and the fact it's a non-linear narrative. All I ask is that you give it a chance to make sense and it will.

Many thanks to my pre-readers who looked at this in its various stages over the past three years: Clever Hooves, Suni, TheLostNarrator and Neighrator Pony

[EDIT] Wow, this stayed in the feature box from June 29th 2021 to July 3rd 2021! Thank you all!

Published 2021-06-29 21:40:04 UTC
Last updated 2021-06-29 21:40:04 UTC

“Sure, you’re the Princess of Friendship but what else do you do?”

As the door clicked shut, Twilight retained her stoic expression for a full ten seconds. Then she collapsed like a marionette with all its strings cut and sobbed into her wings until the noise brought Starlight running.

Applejack wiped sweat from her brow. The midday sun beat down mercilessly. She should have gone inside a while ago but she couldn’t bear to leave a chore half-finished. Now the shiny new cart wheel stood as testament to her labours. She spent a minute fanning her face with her hat, allowing herself to admire her own work.

Hoofsteps made her look up. She squinted through heat-shimmer, down the long path to the road. A pony coalesced out of the haze.

“What the …?”

Rainbow Dash flexed her wings to catch an updraft. All the lower clouds were too thin for a good nap; she’d fall right through and land on her butt in town square – again. She wished she hadn’t had to give up her tree. Trees were awesome for naps.

She angled upward, waving absently to Pinkie, who hung out of her bedroom window at the top of Sugarcube Corner, one forehoof a blur. A crowd of ponies had gathered not far from the store. Dash wondered idly what was going on. She was too far away to hear Pinkie squeak when she overbalanced and tumbled over her windowsill. Luckily, she was more than fast enough to make the save before the pink mare hit the ground.

“Seriously, Pinks, that’s the third time this week. Get a harness or something, will ya? I won’t always be around to save you.”

“Oh Dashie.” Pinkie’s smile was pure sugar. “Of course you will!”

Dash rolled her eyes and sighed. She all but threw Pinkie back into her bedroom – something that didn’t seem to bother Pinkie in the slightest. She landed nimbly on the bed, bouncing up and down like that had been the plan all along.

“I wanted to tell you that I made blueberry scones with fresh cream!”

“Huh?”

“That’s why I was waving. You want some?”

“Uh … sure, I guess. But don’t you usually sell what you bake?”

“I made extra.” Pinkie leapt off the bed and landed nose-to-nose with her. “’Cause I knew you’d be along and you’d be totally hungry. I had crunchy knees and a flicky ear this morning.”

“Your Pinkie Sense told you I’d be hungry?” Dash deadpanned.

“Well sure it did,” Pinkie beamed. “That’s not –”

“Pinkie! Dear! Could you, uh, come down here please?” Mrs. Cake’s voice quavered up the stairs from the café below.

Pinkie blinked. “Uh-oh.” Without warning, her hind leg kicked out spasmodically, briefly turned backward and then righted itself. A spasm rolled up her body, ending in her stomach with a loud gurgle. Her eyes widened. “Oh no…”

“Pinks?” Dash asked. “What did your Pinkie Sense tell you now?”

Pinkie said nothing. Instead, tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

“Twilight, what is it?” Starlight begged for what felt like the thousandth time. “Twilight, please, talk to me.”

Twilight continued to shake her head and sob.

Big Mac trotted down the farmhouse steps in what passed for a snit. Granny was a stickler for eating together and nothing would change her mind once she had decided something. He scanned the farmyard for his sister, blowing air from his nostrils when she was nowhere to be found.

A familiar blue form in the crook of a tree gave him pause. He approached, seeing it was indeed Rainbow Dash, no doubt napping like she always used to before she started spending half her life at Wonderbolt HQ. He nudged the tree with one soup-plate hoof. By her reaction, one might think Dash had been caught in a hurricane. She dangled, forelegs hooked over a branch and hind legs pedaling empty air, glaring down at him.

“Sweet Celestia, big guy, you trying to buck down the tree with me in it?”

“Nope.”

“It’s not even apple bucking season!” She hauled herself back into place and puffed mane from her eyes. “What’s the big idea?”

“You seen AJ?”

She seemed perplexed by the question. “Uh, sure. She’s working right over-” She pointed at the newly fixed cart, sentence dying on her lips. “Oh. Well she was right there. I guess she left.”

Mac frowned. If she had left but hadn’t come in to eat, he wasn’t sure where she could be. He cast up and down but the empty farmyard gave no answers. He even trotted back and forth for a few minutes, as if that would help.

“Are … you going to keep doing that? No offence, but you’re really loud and I’m trying to catch some zees.”

Mac snorted.

“Fine. Whatever.” Dash flapped from her perch. “I guess I’ll find a cloud to nap on or something. Yeesh. You Apples. It’s all work-work-work with you.”

As she left, he heard her stomach give an audible growl.

Once upon a time there was a barn dance. It was dumb and hokey and all the teenagers who went to it secretly wanted to grab some salt lick and share it behind the barn instead. Yet none of them were brave enough to defy their parents, so they danced and danced and danced instead.

Near the end of the evening, when everypony was getting footsore but the barley beer had well and truly kicked in, ‘dancing’ was only a loose term for what they were doing. Stallions staggered forwards and backward, swigging tankards and laughing at jokes that weren’t even funny. Mares twirled with no partners for the sheer joy of feeling the room spin before collapsing dizzily into soft straw bales. The atmosphere was thick with camaraderie and the teenagers began to think that maybe, just maybe, there was something to this barn dance stuff after all.

Nevertheless, they still met behind the building with a couple of stolen salt licks, giggling and passing around the diminishing white spires. When there were only a few licks left, many hooves fumbled to grab the stubs and they fell about, a laughing tangle of limbs and youth and the desperate joy of being alive.

The first kiss wasn’t even a kiss, to be honest. The salt lick dissolved at the right moment and their mouths were suddenly together, which turned out to not be too bad after the initial surprise. It was brief and when they broke apart they pretended it had been an accident – which it had, honest, truly, you gotta believe us.

The look at the end of the night was not an accident though.

Nor the next kiss, stolen in his family’s orchard. That was not an accident either. Neither was the one in the hayloft. Nor the one on the lonely walk home from school. Nor the one under the bridge while they were skipping stones.

In fact, none of the hundreds of kisses that came after were accidents.

Winona whined and tried to follow them.

“No, girl. You go on home. I’ll be right along. Just got some business to take care of.”

“That’s what you’re calling it?”

“Well what else would you have me call it?” Applejack demanded.

The answer came without hesitation. “A matter of life and death.”

The hoof on the sheet was painfully thin and nearly bald. Tiny patches of silver fur and pale skin were punctuated by ugly red welts and lesions that wept pus and blood.

He held onto the hoof anyway.

“Spike, could you get the door?”

Twilight’s shout echoed down the corridor. There was, however, no helpful answering call.

“Spike?”

Still nothing. The booming knock came again.

Sighing, Twilight pushed herself up from her desk and teleported to the front entrance of the castle. She hoped the blowback from the spell did not wreck the filing she had been doing.

“Now who on earth could that be?” she murmured as she pulled open the amethyst-lined door and looked outside. “Oh!”

Pinkie entered Sugarcube Corner’s kitchen via the private staircase up to her bedroom. She did not bounce. She crept, slower than anyone who knew her could have guessed she was even able. Rainbow Dash gawped to see it.

Mrs. Cake’s pleading eyes brought them both to the counter. Pinkie saw the problem immediately.

“I’ll talk to him.”

Twilight jerked backward at the hoof smacking on her desk.

“You’re the Princess of Friendship! Doesn’t that mean anything?”

“I … I … “

“You defeated Nightmare Moon, repelled the changelings – you even sent Tirek back to Tartarus an’ restored everypony in the whole damn country’s magic! This should be simple compared with that!”

“It’s … it’s not …”

“Don’t your crown mean nuthin’?”

She swallowed. “Reacting to an external threat is one thing but … what you’re asking is … it’s so much more complicated.”

“Why?”

“I … well, for one, I don’t have jurisdiction over –”

“So who does? Princess Cadence? Do I gotta take a train to the Crystal Empire for this? Because I will.”

“No, you don’t –”

“Princess Celestia? Well get me an audience with her then.”

“You don’t understand!”

“No, you don’t understand, princess.”

She flinched at the unaccustomed acid tone. “Changing the law isn’t something I can do on my own,” Twilight tried to explain. “It’s not a unilateral decision. Um, it … it has to be petitioned in writing and reviewed by the relevant council, presented to pony parliament, debated, amended and then presented again, before it even reaches one of the princesses – the whole process takes months, if not years.”

“I. Don’t. Got. Years.”

“I … I’m so sorry but … what you’re asking is … is …”

“I am askin’ for fairness, Princess. I am askin’ for justice.”

“And I totally understand that,” she hurried to say. “And I agree with what you’re saying but … the best I could do is write the petition for you and take it to the relevant council myself instead of through a proxy pony.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried that sorta thing already?”

“I-I can try to push the legislation through faster so it gets reviewed sooner.”

“However soon that is won’t be soon enough.”

He got on the train without looking back. If he looked back, he knew he wouldn’t be able to go. So he looked straight ahead the whole journey, neck vibrating with the urge to turn and catch a glimpse of the skyscraper city disappearing behind the horizon.

Pinkie slid into the booth. She could see Dashie from the corner of her eye, watching her, wings all stiff at her sides like they got when she was ready for a fight.

But there was nothing to fight here. Nothing except a sad pony salting a sundae with tears.

“Hi. Haven’t seen you around here in a while.”

Spike smoothed Twilight’s mane. It had been a long time since she needed him to do that. She remained rigid in his embrace, her whole body convulsing with silent sobs.

“Is she going to be okay?” Starlight asked worriedly.

He tried to shrug. “We have to figure out what’s wrong first.”

“M’aterrbulprnsis,” Twilight mumbled.

“What?” Spike turned his attention back to her.

“I’m a terrible princess,” she hiccoughed.

“What?” Starlight cried. “No, you’re not!”

“Yes, I am,” Twilight insisted. “What good am I if I can’t … can’t stop…” She dissolved into tears again.

Hospitals were terrible places, even when they tried not to be so terrible. No amount of friezes or potted [n1] plants or air fresheners could disguise the astringent smell and sterile walls. It wasn’t a place you could live in.

“How are we doing today?” asked the nurse. She was a jovial, rotund blue mare whose horn listed ever so slightly to one side, as if she had been too squashed in the womb and come out crooked. “Anything I can get you, hun?”

“Coffee would be good, thanks.”

“You and your coffee.”

“With a –”

“A salt lick on the side, I know.” She chuckled to herself. “How you can make nasty bitter coffee taste even worse and still drink it down like you do is beyond me.”

He smiled wanly. “It does its job.”

“Mmm, keeping sleep at bay.” She gave him a serious look. “That isn’t good for you, hun. You don’t sleep nearly enough.”

“I’ve got a lot to stay awake for.” He focused on the tiny occupant in the bed, made even tinier by all the machines, wires and tubes tunneling into veins like leeches growing fat. “I can’t afford to miss a single second.”

Through her breathing mask and visor, the nurse gave him a sad look. “I’ll get you your coffee, hun.”

“What do you mean ‘give you my badge’?”

Sherriff Silverstar sighed. “Don’t make me say it again.”

“I ain’t done nuthin’ to warrant givin’ in my badge, sir.”

“You know why I have to ask, son.”

“I’ve been a deputy less than three months. I’ve got a glowin’ report. Latest opinion polls are good. So why in Equestria are you firin’ me?”

“You know why.” Sherriff Silverstar leaned heavily on the words, injecting the silent plea not to be asked to explain them in more detail. “I don’t agree with it, son, but … the law is the law. We have to uphold it, not break it.”

“That’s a stupid law an’ you know it.”

“I don’t matter what I think of it, son. My job is to uphold it. I don’t make the laws but I am paid to keep them.”

There was a beat of silence, broken when the badge landed on the desk with a heavy clang.

“The hat’s my own. My uncle gave me this hat before he died.”

“I ain’t gonna ask for your hat, son –”

“I ain’t your son.”

The door crashed shut on that final bitter word.

Rainbow Dash watched as Pinkie chatted quietly. Sugarcube Corner was practically empty but she still had trouble hearing her. Mrs. Cake eyed Dash warily, clearly not happy about her being behind the counter but too tense to say anything about it.

“How come you needed Pinkie?” Dash asked in a whisper.

“She’s better at these sorts of things,” Mrs. Cake replied, still wringing her hooves. “Making ponies feel better when they’re … sad.”

“Um, I guess.” Dash returned her gaze to the booth.

Apple Bloom ran to Applejack as she plodded up the path to the farmhouse.

“Applejack! Where the heck you been? Granny’s plumb ornery at you for missin’ lunch an’ …” Apple Bloom paused. “Applejack? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Apple Bloom,” Applejack replied in a monotone.

“But you got a black eye!”

“I said I’m fine. I just had to break up a fight in town, is all. Nuthin’ big.” She limped up to the door. “Granny leave a plate for me?”

“Uh, sure. It’s in the oven keepin’ warm. But –”

Applejack went inside before she could finish, leaving her little sister alone and confused on the porch.

“There’s precious little research,” the doctor said flatly, as if he had said this so many times that the words had lost all meaning to him. “We can offer palliative care or, if you’d be willing, some experimental treatments that would involve a stay in Manehattan General as part of a test group.”

“That’s it?” The silver hoof in his clenched tight but he kept talking anyway. “That’s all you can offer? Some stuff in Manehattan that might not even work or, what, a pillow to get comfy on while he waits to die!?”

The doctor’s face stayed blank. “It’s not ideal –”

“You’re damn right it ain’t ideal!”

“But these are the circumstances in which we find ourselves. You’re not the only ponies in this position, you know. You’re not even the only ponies with whom I’ve had this conversation this week.”

He seethed in his chair until the hoof in his squeezed tight again and then let go entirely. “I want to try the experimental treatment. I’m not ready to just give up and die yet.”

He blew out a sigh, tipped his head back and then fixed a less aggressive gaze on the doctor. “What would the Manehatten treatment involve?”

Starlight pressed a cup of hot, sweet tea into Twilight’s trembling hooves. It wasn’t much but it was the best she could think to do. Spike artfully rearranged the blanket he had placed around the alicorn’s shoulders. Then the pair stood back, waiting for an explanation that did not come.

He hated Manehatten. It was big and anonymous and a pony could get lost two blocks from his own home. The sun shining down on it was still the same sun but it felt like a different world to the wild plains and sand-drenched streets he was used to.

“If you hate it so much then why do you keep staring at it?”

He turned away from the window. “How’d you know that’s what I was thinkin’?”

“It’s what you’re always thinking when you look like that.”

“Look like what?”

“Like you’d like to go down, dig up the sidewalk and plant apple trees in the dirt underneath.”

“You been spyin’ in my head?”

“Heh, you know I don’t do that, love.”

He returned to the couch, snuggling up and kissing the available horn-tip, straining so he could reach. “How’re you feelin’ today?”

“Tired. As always. Have you seen this article?” A silver hoof tapped the full-page spread of colour pictures. Bits of fur were starting to fall out. He found himself staring at the tiniest of bald patches for longer than was comfortable. “Gaudy or what? If I ever get to design one of those parades for Princess Twilight, you know I’d do it better than that. So gauche.”

“You’re changin’ the subject.”

“Yes, because I don’t like always talking about being sick.” The magazine snapped shut. “Let’s go out.”

“What? But the doctor said –”

“I’m fully aware what the doctor said. I won’t overdo it. Besides you’ll be there to catch me if I swoon, right?”

“Stop battin’ your eyes at me!”

“Come on, we can have brunch at that little bistro I saw on the way home from my appointment yesterday. It looked so cute that if I hadn’t been yacking my guts up I would have demanded we go in right then. We should rectify that now.”

“But –”

“Rectify!”

“Hang on –”

“REC. TI. FY!”

They laughed their way out into the concrete streets and total lack of cacti.

Applejack stepped in front of Twilight’s desk. “Shoutin’ ain’t helpin’ anypony,” she said quietly.

“It’s makin’ me feel better!” he yelled.

“Is it?” The look she levelled at him could have curdled milk. “Is it really?”

He dropped his head. “I’m tired of feelin’ so gosh darn helpless, AJ. I figured … since you knew the princess all personal-like … but she’s just as bad as the rest of ‘em. It’s all paperwork an’ form-filling an’ shovin’ you out the door with these ponies. I tried, AJ. I tried. Don’t think I didn’t try! I went to the offices of everypony I was told to go to. I spoke to all the ponies I was supposed to speak to. I went through all the official channels an’ it didn’t do a lick of good. I’m right back where I started. Somethin’ has gotta be done!”

“Way I hear it, somethin’ is bein’ done over in Van Hoofer.”

“The Administration For Public Health Investigations?” he spat. “They just look pretty while doin’ as little as possible.”

Twilight frowned. “Hey, that research group is –”

“Movin’ slower than molasses on a tree in winter, princess. By the time they find a cure – if they’re even really lookin’ for one – it’ll be too late.”

Applejack’s eyes widened. “Are … are you saying that you…?”

“No, I’m not sick.”

She looked puzzled for a moment but realization dawned quickly. “How long does he have?”

The machine’s everlasting beep got into his dreams. It followed him back to their rental apartment. It followed him to the Registration Office. It followed him onto the train, off the train, through the sandy streets he had missed so much and through his own front door.

He set the urn on the mantlepiece. The ceramic clinked. He could hear birds outside and ponies going about their daily lives. Sherriff Silverstar’s recognizable voice boomed from some distance away. Foals laughed, accompanied by elderly chuckles from the schoolhouse.

Oh. Yeah. It was Family Appreciation Day wasn’t it?

The mechanical beep continued to ring in his head.

“No time at all. He died last week.”

Applejack’s mouth fell open. “No …”

“Yes.”

“But … he only just got diagnosed –”

“That’s how fast it works, AJ. As soon as they tell you you’ve got it, it’s already too late. By the time those researchers find a cure it’ll be too dang late for everypony who’s got it.”

Twilight looked between them, frowning. “What … what’s going on? Who died?”

“I’m movin’ to Appleloosa.”

“Appleloosa? But there’s no such place.”

“Gonna help build it. Brand new town, brand new orchard, brand new everythin’.” He beamed. “I want you to come with me.”

“You’re kidding right?”

He deflated. “N-no.”

“You want me to move to the middle of nowhere, just like that?”

“I ... uh …”

“Where I’ll know nopony, have no friends, no lovely little bistros, no nothing?”

“Uh …”

“Of course, if this is, in fact, you finally asking me to move in with you, well then I might be persuaded.”

He recovered as quickly as he was able and cleared his throat. “Will you move in with me?”

“Oh love, I thought you’d never ask!”

Big Mac brought the medical box up the stairs with him. He knocked and waited for a response, as was his wont. When none came he knocked again.

“You’re gonna knock the durn door down if you carry on like that!” Granny shouted from downstairs.

“Sorry Granny.” He gave as light a tap as he could.

Shuffling from within heralded Applejack pulling the door open. “What?”

Mac held up the medical box.

“I’m fine.”

“Nope.”

“Big Mac, I ain’t in the mood for this.”

“Eyup.”

“It’s been a bad day, Mac.”

He shrugged. Jiggled the medical box again. Waited for her response.

She resisted for a while longer but eventually deflated and let him in. She had attempted to bathe and dress the cut on her foreleg herself but she had always been terrible at that sort of thing.

“Sit,” Mac instructed.

She sank wordlessly onto her mattress. He got to work. Despite his clumsiness in other areas, he could dress a wound well and set about disinfecting and wrapping his sister’s cut. She winced and instinctively tried to pull away from the iodine.

“Gotta,” Mac said. “Stops infection.”

She winced but this time he could tell it was at his words, not his ministrations. He raised an eyebrow.

“Mac … Crescent died.”

His hooves stilled. “When?”

“Last week.”

His eyes widened. “But –”

“He didn’t want nopony to know.”

Mac paused. “Why?”

“’Cause Crescent died of … the sickness. PIV. He’s still grievin’. I … I figured it’d be best to follow his wishes with Granny an’ Apple Bloom but …” She bit her lower lip. “He looked … broken, Mac. An’ I couldn’t help him. I tried. I took him to see Twilight like he asked but …” She blinked. Her eyes were glittery wet. “It didn’t go well. He wouldn’t come back to the house with me. I told him he needed family right now an’ he said … he said …”

“Crescent? What’s wrong? I heard you throwin’ up.”

“Nothing, love. Go back to sleep.”

“It didn’t sound like nuthin’.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t fuss. It’s probably just a touch of food poisoning.”

“Yeah right, Mr. Epic Hygiene got food poisonin’ from his own cookin’ done on his own spotlessly clean stove in his spotlessly clean house. Oh look, flyin’ pigs!”

“Stop, love. I don’t have the energy for your witty repartee tonight. Just … hold me a while, would you? I’ll be fine by morning.”

“Sure, sweetie. Get under the covers with me. I’ll keep you warm.”

“Heh, I’m sure you will.”

“But Crescent, if you ain’t right by sunup, you’re going to the doctor.”

“Don’t fuss so –”

“Crescent!”

“Mrrf. Fine. I’ll go to the doctor and he’ll tell me it’s food poisoning and then you’ll feel better it’s nothing more serious and also so guilty that you made me go when you know I hate doctors that you feel compelled to wait on me while I recline on the couch and read magazines until I feel better. Happy?”

“Heh. Sure. Now c’mere.”

“My family is in a pot on a mantlepiece, AJ!”

Twilight recoiled from Braeburn’s shout, even though it had not been directed at her. “Could we all please just calm down? Raised voices aren’t going to help anything.”

“Maybe not – but stayin’ quiet didn’t never do me no good neither, princess.”

“Braeburn,” Applejack snapped. “Quit doin’ that. You know her name. Use it.”

He tossed his head. It was empty defiance but something in him was fraying shorter and shorter with every passing minute. “She’s a princess. She should start actin’ like it. An’ I don’t mean fightin’ monsters an’ beatin’ down creatures tryin’ to hurt Equestria. I mean lookin’ at what the ponies she’s supposed to be in charge of actually need.” He stamped his hoof. “Beyond just friendship lessons.”

“B-but … I’m the Princess of … Friendship …” Twilight’s voice dimmed like a flashlight with a dying battery.

“Celestia’s the Princess of the Sun but that ain’t all she does. Luna rules the night but she still attends parliament. Cadence is Princess of Love but she rules all the Crystal Empire. You’re the Princess of Friendship, yeah, but in the day to day what else do you do?”

“I … I’m p-planning to open a … s-school …”

His eyes narrowed. “Whoop de buckin’ doo.”

“You’re home early, love.”

“Mrrf.”

“What’s that look for? Did something happen at work?”

“You might say that. You’re our sole income now.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sherriff Silverstar fired me.”

“But … what in Equestria for? You’re the best deputy he’s ever had, he told you so himself! I thought you were tipped to be his replacement when he retires.”

“I was until the new mayor got voted in.”

“What does that have to do with it?”

“Mayor Button-Down has been real strict about enforcin’ laws around town.”

“But that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Mrrf.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Some laws … are older ‘n dirt. Older n’ the dirt Appleloosa’s built on. Older n’ the dirt our grandpappies an’ grandmammies walked on, too. So old that most everypony don’t even realise they exist, nor care to enforce ‘em if they do.”

“And you … did something to break one of those old laws?”

“More like I am somethin’ that breaks one of those old laws. We both are.”

“Oh? Oh. Oh!”

“Yeah.”

“Oh love, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. If I had to pick between you an’ my job, I’d pick you every time. Silverstar just … made it so I didn’t have to pick, I guess.”

“But it’s not right! It’s not fair! You love that job!”

“But I love you more.”

“Do you even like sundaes? I can get you a muffin if you’d prefer. Or a cupcake. Everypony likes cupcakes.” Pinkie searched her mental folder, pulling out the relevant file. “Ooh! Your favourite party food is cheese and pineapple pizza bites, right? I can whip you up some of those, quick as a flash, no problem.”

The pony beside her turned his head so slowly she imagined she could hear it creaking like a rusty door. He blinked at her. He had very green eyes, she noticed distantly. Not pale and sickly like most eyes that colour but GREEN, like if she wrote it down she would have to print the capital letters so hard she would scratch right through the parchment.

His eyes were very shiny too – and getting shinier. Pinkie fumbled in her mane and pulled out a clean hankie.

“Here.”

He stared at it. Accepted it hesitantly, as though it might bite him. Held it to his face.

And bawled like his head might break open and let all his poisonous thoughts ooze out onto the table in front of her.

“What in Equestria-?”

“Tadaaaaa! I cooked dinner for you.”

“But you’re meant to be restin’!”

“Pish posh, they’re only pizza bites – hardly any effort at all. Cheese and pineapple – your favourite! Even though I’m almost certain that’s just because it’s the only way you could work the word ‘apple’ into your pizza topping.”

“But –”

“Sit, sit, sit.”

“But you’re supposed to be –”

“Love, I am the best baker in all of Appleoosa. You think I can’t whip up some pizza bites without falling over from the strain?”

“I…”

“I’m sighing. See me sighing? Are you going to spend the whole meal telling me I shouldn’t have made it because it doesn’t fit in with the idea of being an invalid or are you going to come and taste my delicious cooking?”

“Crescent … I love you.”

“Well, you love my cooking.”

“Crescent!”

“Kidding! I love you too, you big idiot.”

The little filly sat on the swing Pa had made for her and cried. She used to care if ponies saw her cry but right now the need to sob out her pain was greater than the need to look like a big girl.

“AJ?”

She whipped around, startled. The little colt had snuck up on her on hooves as quiet as cat paws. She scrubbed hastily at her face.

“Go ‘way.”

“Granny Smith says to come on in now.”

“Tell Granny to …” The words evaporated before she could even say them. Not even in her deepest grief did she want to sass Granny Smith. The old green mare was family, after all, and right now family was more important than anything else.

The colt still staring at her wasn’t even supposed to be here. Up in the farmhouse his parents were probably still unpacking their luggage and talking about how sad it all was. A tiny piece of her hated them for that imagined conversation.

“Just go away.” She turned away and hugged one side of the ropes Pa had used to hang the swing. He used to push her so high she felt like a pegasus and Ma cried out in fear that she might fall.

She would never hear Ma call like that again. Pa would never push her on this swing again.

Fresh tears welled in her eyes. She choked down a sob.

Someone wrapped forelegs around her from behind in a tight hug. She froze, nearly toppling backwards off the swing before one hoof caught the other rope to steady her. The little colt had raised himself onto his spindly hind legs and balanced on tip-hoof to reach.

“I won’t say I’m sorry.”

Her protest died in her throat. “What?”

“I won’t say it because it don’t need sayin’. You don’t need my sympathy. You don’t need me to pretend I know what you’re goin’ through. I can’t.”

The sob she had choked down burbled back up her throat. She could not speak for fear of letting it loose.

“What I can do is tell you that you’re loved,” he went on. “That you got ponies who care about you an’ who want to help you while you go through it. Your family love you, Applejack. Ain’t nuthin’ ever gonna change that.”

Her eyes stung with the pressure of trying to hold in her grief.

“I’m here for you. I know you probably don’t want me around right now but … I’ll still be here, ready for if you do need me.”

She tilted her head back, fixing her gaze on the empty blue sky, and finally let her heartbreak out. Her hooves spasmed, releasing the swing, and she tumbled back into the colt’s embrace, wheezing and crying into his chest fur all the pain she could not put into words even when she saw the twin caskets lowered into the ground. She had told herself she had to be strong for her baby sister who would never know their parents, for her big brother who had even more memories of them than her to mourn, for her grandmother who had lived a mother’s worse nightmare and outlived her children.

“I’m here,” he said, over and over. “I’m here.”

“Mrs. Loaf gave the mayor a piece of her mind today.”

“She did?’

“Mmm. Apparently, he came to see her at home last night, mouthing off about her ‘setting the right example’ as an elder of the town. You’re not looking up at my perfect visage but I am completely rolling my eyes right now.”

“Hm? Oh, sorry sweetie. I was just checkin’ the job section in today’s paper.”

“Why bother? You know you’re going to go back to bucking apples.”

“Maybe.”

“Certainly.”

“I wanna help build up Appleloosa but there’s more than one way to support a town than just by growin’ produce. Now what’s this about Mayor Button-Down an’ Mrs. Loaf?”

“He wanted her to fire me from the bakery the way he got Silverstar to fire you. Seems our good mayor would be quite happy to run ‘our type’ right out of town if he could, but since he can’t he’s trying to be all sneaky about it. Mrs. Loaf saw right through his charade and gave him a piece of her mind and the sharp side of her tongue.”

“That must’ve been entertainin’ to watch.”

“I wish I could’ve been a fly on the wall. She really gave him what for! Told him to shove his bigotry where the sun doesn’t shine and that if he tries to twist folks into hating each other for stupid reasons, she’ll take a petition to Princess Celestia herself to get the law changed – or get him deposed or whatever and replaced with somepony who isn’t a heinous buttface.”

“Did you seriously just say ‘buttface’?”

“I considered other insults but have you seen that stallion’s puffy cheeks? Total buttface. His little pursed mouth looks exactly like an anus.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I’m admirable. Mrs. Loaf said so. And she’s not the only ally we have in town, love. Ponies who actually know us are on our side, antiquated law or not. Mrs. Loaf said point blank that I’m the best baker since Mr. Loaf and who I go home to each night is no reason to get rid of me.”

“Wow.”

“Wow indeed.”

“I … I love you, Crescent.”

“I know you do. I’m very loveable.”

“Crescent!”

“Kidding, kidding! Well, somewhat. I am very loveable. But I love you too. With my whole heart.”

“That’s better.”

“Cheeky buttface!”

“What … ideally … would you have me do?” Twilight said in as calm a voice as she could manage when faced with the wild eyes and trembling hooves of a pony on the edge.

Apparently, it was the right thing to ask because the answer she got sounded calmer. “Repeal the Procreant Matrimonial Act.”

“The what?” Applejack blinked, nonplussed.

“The Breeder Law, AJ. The one that says ponies can only get officially married if they’re able to bear foals together.”

Twilight’s mouth fell open.

“He’s dying!”

The council pony winced but shook his head. “What you’re asking is beyond my remit –”

“Damn it, make it your remit!”

It wasn’t the poor disheveled stallion’s fault but he still bore the brunt of all his rage – and bore it better than most would. “It doesn’t work that way. It’s not a city policy. It’s a law passed by the princess … well, centuries ago. Better ponies than me have tried and failed to get it overturned. Half the time their petitions don’t even make it past the governmental submission stage.”

“So what do I gotta do to be able to marry him?”

The stallion blinked. He heard the unspoken words. They hung in the air like a gas cloud.

Be a mare.

“So you’re sayin’ there ain’t nuthin’ I can do? I just gotta watch him die an’ … an’ …”

“I’m so sorry,” the council pony murmured. It was clear that he meant it. He wished he could do what had been asked of him and bearing helpless witness to all this pain was cutting into him as well. “Nopony short of the princesses themselves could –”

His head snapped up. “A princess?” His eyes narrowed. “I know a princess.”

Applejack trotted after the angry stallion, careful not to look too much like she was chasing him.

“Whoa there,” she hummed, so soft only he could hear. “Don’t go off all stiff-legged like that.”

“Why? Embarrassed that someone might notice you with me?”

“I couldn’t give two hoots of a hollerin’ buckrabbit about that. I’m just worried you’ll trip over an’ break your dang face. This part of the road to the castle ain’t been repaired since the last time some monster tried to knock the place down.”

He did not slow. “This is bull, AJ, and you know it.”

“What I know is that you’re angry an’ hurtin’ and I wanna be there for you right now.” She drew up alongside him. “Why didn’t you tell us – me – about all this sooner?”

“It weren’t anypony else’s business.”

“Horseapples. We’re family.”

He looked away. “I ... guess. Just kinda ... got used to keepin’ quiet about that sorta thing. Been dealin’ with some ... stuff in Appleloosa the past few months. We got a new mayor an’ ...” He trailed off. “It was just easier to keep quiet.”

“Oh ...” Grief squeezed her heart. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah.” He stared at the ground as he walked. “Whatever.”

He arrived back at the hospital from his conversation with the disheveled stallion at the city council office to find his way barred. He stared up at the languid blue stallion and washed out silver mare who scowled at him from in front of a door that had never been closed to him before.

“You need to leave our son alone,” the silver mare said acidly. “This is all your fault.”

“Wh-what?”

“He’s sick because of you,” the stallion replied with a glare that could strip chrome off steel. “You gave him this disease. How dare you –”

“I didn’t –”

“Save it. Until he met you he was healthy and happy and normal. It’s your fault he’s sick. It’s your fault he’s dy-” The stallion’s voice cracked. His knees wobbled. His glower became watery against sudden tears that he turned his head to hide. “It’s ... it’s your f-fault.”

“No–” he protested, but they would not hear him.

“Leave our family alone.” The mare pushed up against her husband, allowing him to conceal his grief in her white mane. She looked so much like her son it was unsettling; all except her eyes. Where Crescent’s were pools of liquid gold, hers were like chips of blue ice. She fixed these forward and flicked her tail with barely restrained fury. “You’ve done enough damage.”

“He’s my family too!”

“No, he’s not. And we’ve instructed the staff here not to let you in under that excuse anymore. You’re not his family. You’re just some ... some deviant who took advantage of our son and hurt him. Well not anymore! You’re done here. You’re done with him. Leave. Now.”

“No!” Desperation added husk to his voice, his throat closing around the terrible realisation of what was happening. “No, you can’t do this! He’s my family too! I love him! He’s my –”

“He’s our baby boy and you killed him. We will never, ever forgive you for this you … you murderer!”

His head rocketed back as if he had been slapped. Without further words, Crescent’s parents went back into his hospital room and closed the door behind them. He was just able to catch sight of thin, hairless limbs studded all over with IV lines and the wide, surprised gold eyes of the stallion with whom he had thought he would spend the rest of his life.

“Lov-“

Then it was all over. The door clicked, shutting him out. One of the nurses approached with sad determination.

“I didn’t …” he sobbed as he was herded away. “This w-wasn’t ...”

“Crescent’s family have the right to completely ignore his will because of the Procreant Matrimonial Act. I don’t get any rights to enforce what he wanted after he died.”

“What?” Applejack’s eyes widened. “They can’t do that. That ... that can’t be legal.”

“It is. They made it real clear to me how legal it is. Crescent listed me as his life partner on account of that’s all he could list me as. An’ ‘life partner’ ain’t a legally recognised term. They remain his next of kin so they get to make all the decisions on account of they say he was ‘not in his right mind’ when he died. They’re sayin’ the sickness made his brain all screwy an’ there’s so little research into it at all that nopony can countermand their claim.”

Twilight quailed under the force of his stare.

“They took everythin’. All his things. All our photos. Every scrap. They got a court order to basically raid our home an’ take what they wanted. Then they banned me from his funeral. I got stopped at the door an’ escorted out when I went anyhow. He wanted to be cremated an’ for me to have his ashes so’s we could stay together. His parents interred his body in the family mausoleum an’ gave my description to the guard at the gate to keep me out so I can’t even visit his buckin’ grave. They erased everythin’ about me an’ him an’ our relationship. It’s like it – us – like we never even existed. Like they got a monopoly on grievin’ for him. All I got’s an empty urn on my mantelpiece that he picked out for himself because he didn’t want to spend the rest of forever in sumthin’ unfashionable.”

Twilight tried to become one with her chair. The hard, bitter-bright smile he aimed at her was even worse than his stare.

Applejack looked up when the door to Sugarcube Corner opened. She had been instructed very vociferously to go away. Naturally she had ignored that. It was not, however, her cousin who emerged but Rainbow Dash.

“Hey AJ. He, uh, said you’d be out here waiting for him. Pinkie says to bring you into the kitchen through the back so Mrs. Cake can give you first aid.”

“I don’t need –”

“Even I can see you’ve got a shiner coming. Don’t be an idiot.”

She swallowed and followed her friend.

“Did …” Applejack bit her lip. “How much did he tell you?”

“Enough. I know why he’s here in town. And what Twilight said.” Rainbow’s gait was stiff. “I get that I shouldn’t be angry with Twilight but … I’m still mad.”

“She’s headed to Canterlot as soon as she’s able.”

“Yeah. For whatever good it’ll do.” Dash pushed open the back door, allowing a cloud of heavenly smells to billow out. The two mares trotted inside to where Mrs. Cake waited with a First Aid Kit already open.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Cake gasped when she saw Applejack’s face.

“Yeah. Clocked myself good,” Applejack said self-consciously. “Guess I’m gettin’ slow in my old age. I fell over while walkin’ an’ talkin’. Just an accident. Nuthin’ more.”

She could feel Rainbow Dash’s sidelong look at the lie.

“It attacks a unicorn’s immunities,” the Manehattan doctor said somberly. “Unicorns already have a mutated immune system to compensate for the need to store magic in the body’s cellular structure. In effect, this disease reduces those fragile immunities to almost zero, which allows diseases that the body would normally fight off to take a firmer hold and do more damage. The disease piggybacks on the Y chromosome so mares literally cannot carry or catch it. It’s a purely male disease passed from one stallion to another, favouring earth ponies as carriers since they have the least magic. Pegasi have minor mutations to their immune system but not as much as unicorns are. They are affected but not as critically or quickly.”

“So you’re saying that I hit the jackpot on the worst combination of things making me likely to catch this disease?”

He stared. “So Crescent … he caught this … from me?”

“We won’t know unless we test you too. Earth ponies are vectors: they carry an inert version of the disease but it only activates when it comes into contact with large amounts of cellular magic in a host. Lots of earth ponies go their whole lives never knowing they’re carrying it –”

“Because they settle down with mares,” he finished flatly.

“We’re not here to judge. We’re actually grateful to you both for agreeing to this experimental treatment. If this works, it could save a whole lot of stallions’ lives.” The doctor patted the object on his desk. “These will help to boost your immunities. They’re each infused with an individual spell matrix that will act in tandem with the invocations. It’s a cutting-edge blend of medical and magical sciences that should raise your immune system to the level of the toughest earth pony mare you can imagine.”

They both stared at the gigantic bottle of pills.

“I have to take five of these every day? They’re practically as big as my hoof!”

“Yes. You’ll need the smaller ones to deal with the constipation side effect from these. You only need to take one of those a day though. We’ll need to see you three times a week for invocation insertions.”

Their gazes switched to the diamond shape sitting beneath silver chest fur. It looked odd and alien, pushing up at the skin it had been inserted beneath.

“I guess I’m not sleeping on my front anymore. You’ll have to be big spoon until my treatment is over, love.” A barely controlled tremor clung to the flippant words.

The doctor’s eyes were serious. “I have to warn you, after the invocations there will be some … further side-effects. We’ve been trying to reduce them based on data from previous trials but it would be unprofessional of me not to let you know now.”

“What kind of side effects?”

The doctor tried to smile reassuringly around the information but it looked more like a grimace. “Weight reduction. Hair loss. Vomiting. Diarrhea. Night sweats. Elasticity decrease in the skin.”

As the list went on, the grip between their hooves tightened.

“Peachy keen. I’m going to look, sound and smell an absolute delight.”

He leaned across to plant a forehead kiss. “If it keeps you alive, Crescent, it’ll be worth it.”

Yet inwardly, his stomach clenched at what they had learned.

I did this to you.

The words echoed like they had been shouted in a cavern far back in his brain. He tried to concentrate on what the doctor was saying next but the accusation rang louder than what went into his ears.

I did this to you.

I did this to you.

I did this to you.

This is my fault …

The train from Ponyville to Appleloosa was late. It was mostly empty but those ponies who were on board whispered to each other at the delay. What was going on? Was there a problem with the engine? Why had they not yet left the station? A few passengers consulted watches and frowned out the window at the encroaching evening.

The door to one carriage opened and one of the enormous stallions who pulled the train entered. The passengers’ whispering increased. Engine stallions never came on board. Never. He looked around, gaze settling on one pony alone in the corner.

“Sir, can you get off the train, please?”

Even more whispers.

“Why?”

“Sir, please get off the train.”

The bathroom reeked of bile and misery.

“Crescent?”

“In here.”

He trotted through to the bedroom and the tangle of limbs sprawled across the still made bed.

“Sorry, love. I … missed.”

“It’s okay. I can clean that up,”

“But you shouldn’t have to. Not again.” Never before had he heard a cough so wet and gloopy. “I hate this. You’re my boyfriend, not my carer[n2] . I’m an adult. I shouldn’t be so … so … helpless.”

“Small term sacrifices for long term gains.”

“You sound like a textbook. Do shut up.”

“Would you like some water?”

“Yes. Water, please. A gallon jug with ice in it. Then do shut up.”

“How about a hug?”

“Um. Yes. Water. Ice. Hug. Then do shut up.”

“I love you.”

“Mrrf.”

He smiled.

“Twilight? What are you doing? Twilight!”

The hallway lit up in a burst of magic so bright that Starlight and Spike had to shield their eyes. When they opened them again, it was to find the blanket they had wrapped around Twilight fluttering, empty, to the floor.

Applejack walked shoulder to shoulder with him. He stared at the ground as he walked and muttered over again, “Whatever.”

“Family ain’t a ‘whatever’. We’re here for each other through thick an’ thin. I … I wish you’d told us what was goin’ on. Crescent is … was family too.”

His footsteps hitched in the dirt. She noticed but did not comment.

“He would’ve been mighty happy to hear you say that.”

“S’true,” she insisted. “You love him. He’s important to you. That makes him our kin, marriage or not.”

He stopped in his tracks in the middle of the street. She halted too, noting how his lower lip trembled. She cast around, glancing at the other ponies around. Everyone seemed more concerned with their own activities to notice two Apple ponies having a quiet conversation. She chose not to hustle him to somewhere more private, especially when he started speaking again. Gone were the furious tone and flashing eyes. Instead, he seemed drained, as if anger had been the only thing keeping him buoyant at all.

“It was … fast, AJ. So dang fast. Not even a month from … from findin’ out to … to …” He closed his eyes. “I weren’t there when he died. An’ I … I feel so guilty about that. He must’ve been so scared. I promised I’d be there for him an’ I … I broke my promise.”

“That weren’t your fault, sugarcube.”

“It was though. They kept me out for a reason.”

“A stupid reason. Still don’t make it your fault. They hurt their own son to ease their poisonous brains.” She snorted. “Dang cruel idiots.”

“They … they loved him too, AJ. He was their son.” He sucked in a heavy breath, as if the air was made of soup. “I’ve always said I am who I am an’ hang the consequences. I ain’t gonna apologise for bein’ the way I am, I always said. Not even when Momma and Pappy … said they didn’t wanna see me no more. But … who I am got me into this mess. It don’t matter the science or whatever. Rumours an’ gossip about the sickness, that’s what ponies listen to. That’s what Crescent’s folks listened to. An’ it made them cut me out of … of …” Another shuddering breath. “If he’d never met me … if we’d never been together, then maybe he’d still be alive …”

“You stop right there, mister.” Applejack’s words were sharp enough to cut across his eyelids and fling them open at her. “If you think like that for one single second I’m gonna kick your flank from here to Appleloosa an’ back myself. You two boys love – loved each other. Do you know how many ponies would kill for a love like what you had? Most of us go our whole lives never knowin’ what it’s like to have a soulmate. But you two … well, I can honestly say y’all made me jealous as a bald cat in a groomin’ parlour every time I saw you. You are never to regret that. Never ever. I mean it. You made Crescent happy an’ he did the same for you. Ain’t nopony can say that’s bad - an’ if they do I’ll … I’ll punch ‘em in their dang fool face!”

He smiled. It was tiny and hung at the very bottom of his face as if struggling to cling on but it was there. “I wish I could’ve married him, AJ. I wanted it so bad. Big white weddin’, just a date at the courthouse or an officiant standin’ at the end of his dang hospital bed – didn’t matter a whit to me. I just wanted to be able to call him my husband before he died.”

“Your husband?” screeched a voice, making Applejack whirl around. Her face fell into a scowl at sight of the pink mare with an upturned nose held even higher in the air than usual. Instinctively, she moved in front of her cousin, interposing herself between him and Spoiled Rich.

There was blood in Crescent’s vomit and in his tears when he cried from the pain of throwing up. The ambulance was there within fifteen minutes. Strong paramedics manoeuvred the weeping unicorn onto a stretcher, not even batting an eyelid when he climbed in after them.

Crescent did not let go of his hoof the entire journey to Manehattan General.

“I’m going to die,” he whispered in a small, frightened voice.

“You ain’t gonna die.”

“I am, love. I can … I can feel it …”

“Hush your fool mouth. You just had a bad reaction to all that medicine. Them pills would give anypony a hell of a tummy ache.”

Crescent’s eyes were so wide that his pupils were pinpricks. He reached over with his other hoof, jostling the IV in his foreleg. “Love … promise me …”

“Promise you what?”

“Promise you won’t leave my side. I couldn’t … I couldn’t face the end without you there with me. Please. Oh Celestia, I’m … I’m so scared. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to – mrrf!”

The kiss was short and bumpy from the road beneath the ambulance wheels but still burningly heartfelt.

“Of course I promise.”

Pinkie stared up at the night sky. She leaned sideways, resting more of her weight against Rainbow Dash.

“Life isn’t fair, is it?” she asked so softly that even she wasn’t sure whether she had spoken out loud or just thought the words.

She felt Dash shift to look at her. “Don’t say that,” she replied after a long moment. “You’re Pinkie Pie. You’re not supposed to say stuff like that.”

“It’s been a rough day, Dashie. I’m not feeling much like myself right now.”

Dash allowed another long pause to pool between them before leaning down to nuzzle the crown of Pinkie’s mane. “You’re right,” she murmured. “Sometimes it’s not fair. And sometimes it is. It’s life.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

Pinkie watched as the stars flickered into being above them. Luna was hard at work, just like every night. Things carried on no matter what. On the ground, everything could go wrong but the stars would still come out, the moon would still rise and life would continue whether you liked it or not. There was a comfort and a sadness to that which Pinkie Pie struggled to reconcile within herself. She kept picturing Braeburn Apple’s face as he cried into his dessert like somepony had told him nothing good would ever happen to him ever again.

“I think I’m going to go home to the rock farm for a few days,” she said suddenly.

“You are?”

“Yeah. I think … I need to spend some time with my folks. I don’t want them not to … know the new me, y’know?”

Rainbow Dash’s forehooves rubbed against each other awkwardly. “Do you want … should I … can I come with you?”

Pinkie blinked. “Actually … I’d really like that.”

“Spoiled Rich, I’ll thank you not to eavesdrop on other ponies’ conversations.”

“You’re standing in the middle of the street.”

“That ain’t an invitation for you to listen in an’ it certainly ain’t permission for you to speak your two bits’ worth.”

Applejack glared at Spoiled, who seemed not to notice. The older mare sniffed and raised a foreleg protectively over her chest.

“I don’t think you should take that tone with me, young lady. Not if you want my husband’s continued business.”

“Don’t you hold that kind of threat over me,” Applejack growled, yet her posture weakened. Filthy Rich adored his wife and daughter beyond reason. It was possible Spoiled really could make life difficult for Sweet Apple Acres – and she was petty enough to do it. Even so, the way she strutted towards them and spoke so dismissively made Applejack’s blood boil.

“Oh, it’s not a threat. It’s a promise. Barnyard Bargains doesn’t trade with uppity ponies who can’t hold a civil tongue in their head. Our reputation demands that we associate only with those who can sustain the decorum necessary to operate with due courtesy. I would have thought your grandmother had taught you that. Then again…” She paused, coming to a stop and eyeing them both up and down in the same fluid motion. “After what I just heard, maybe Apple family parenting is lacking across the board.”

“Just what are you implyin’, ma’am?” he gritted. Applejack was close enough to see the fur poking over his collar start to stand on end.

“I don’t imply.” Spoiled leaned into the word. “I always say exactly what I mean and I always mean exactly what I say.”

She clearly did not care that she did not know him, the situation or the context into which she had stumbled. She never did. Spoiled Rich thought she ran Ponyville and acted like it every time she stepped out of her house. Very few ponies had ever seriously sought to disabuse her of this notion, thus it had been left to twist around her heart like a choking vine until the leaves of her own self-importance obscured what anyone else’s survival instinct would have noticed.

Like her current target’s rekindling anger, Applejack thought, glancing between the two ponies. She interposed herself more fully between them before either could continue speaking, presenting her sides to both ponies but addressing Spoiled.

“Mrs Rich, I think now would be a good time for you to, ah, absent yourself from this conversation.”

“Oh that’s what you think, is it?” Spoiled’s smile could have stripped chrome from steel.

“I do. I think you goin’ on home would be what’s best for everypony right now. I can call around later and, ah, explain the situation properly to you if you’d like.”

“I think I understand the situation perfectly well, actually.” Spoiled pointed a manicured hooftip. “This stallion is a colt-cuddler and you’re lowering the tone of our town by harbouring him – not to mention jeopardising the future of your relationship with Barnyard Bargains.”

Applejack’s mouth fell open. “A what?” The words tumbled out of her like grains of rice from a torn open sack: spilling and scattering before she could stop them. “You do realise that’s a slur for a paedophile, right? An’ I’m absolutely hopin’ you didn’t just call my kin one of those.”

Spoiled shrugged. “They’re the same thing, aren’t they?”

Applejack’s veins ran molten. Her eyeballs pulsed with sudden heat behind them. If she could have burst into flames to let her anger out the way Twilight used to, she would have. When she spoke, it was a struggle to keep the tremor from her voice.

“I suggest … you take that back … or leave.”

Spoiled sniffed imperiously. “Oh, come now, Miss Apple. If you’re going to play at being the kind of suitable pony with whom my husband will continue to do business, you’ll have to do better than that. Barnyard Bargains is founded on good old-fashioned family values.”

“The Apple family has more values than …” Applejack bit off the rest of her sentence: Than you could ever hope to have, you egotistical nag.

“That’s as may be, but are they commensurate with our own?” Her smirk twisted her lips at the corners. “That means do they match, my dear.”

“I know what it means. I ain’t stupid.”

The smirk curled tighter. Spoiled somehow managed to look down on Applejack despite being an inch shorter than her. “Yes. Well. That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”

The obituary was a lavish affair. Crescent’s parents must have spent a bundle on it. A large image of him dominated half a page of the newspaper, ringed by tiny moons like his cutie mark in a makeshift border. Braeburn recognised the photo. It was one half of the original. In it, Crescent smiled, one hoof thrown up like he was tossing invisible glitter into the air. The full photo used to sit in a frame on their mantelpiece. They had taken it along with everything else the court order allowed them to take. He wondered whether Crescent’s parents had cut it in half themselves with scissors or just instructed the newspaper ponies to use this part. Either way, the result was the same: the total and complete exorcism of himself from Crescent’s life and death combined.

The little house in Appleloosa felt too empty and not just because of the missing photos and keepsakes. They had left him the empty urn. There was something especially cruel about that.

The knock on the door startled him. He thought about pretending he wasn’t home but quickly realised how stupid that was. Everypony in town knew he was here and why. Gossip spread fast in a small place like Appleloosa.

Mrs. Loaf stood on the doorstep. True to her name, she looked like what would happen if someone enchanted bread into a pony. Her dappled tan fur, grey-brown mane and sharp russet eyes were all pulled tightly together from waiting but melted like the curl of butter from her cutie mark when he opened the door and she saw his swollen eyes and the newspaper in his hoof.

“Oh … honey …” She immersed him in a hug he had not asked for. He stiffened, unable to return it. She smelled of baking and sugar; the way Crescent used to small before he got sick. “I’m so sorry, honey. I’m so, so sorry.”

He did not cry. He couldn’t. His eyes seemed to have forgotten how to form tears.

“He was the best of us all,” Mrs Loaf said throatily. “We’re all going to miss him so very, very much.”

He nodded.

“It’s downright evil what his folks have done. Nopony should ever be able to do such a thing to another pony just because they don’t have a silly piece of paper. You and Crescent were in love. That should have been all that mattered. Their son’s happiness should have been more important to them than their own prejudices.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, trying not to inhale her scent. “It should’ve.”

“I can’t believe modern ponies can still have such backwards thinking. Why, I’m nearly eighty and I’m apparently more modern than them.”

Abruptly, his cousin’s face flashed through his mind; smiling with her friends when he saw them at the last family reunion.

Her friends …

Or at least, one of them.

“Nopony short of the princesses themselves could –”

“A princess? I know a princess.”

He pushed away from Mrs Loaf, who dropped to all-fours, rubbing at her eyes.

“Could you watch our – my place for a few days, Mrs Loaf?”

“Why of course, honey. Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah.” Ironclad resolve settled into his gut: resolve that nopony else should ever have to go through what he had. “Ponyville.”

Celestia was holding court when the room detonated in purple-white light. At first, she thought they were under attack, yet as the backwash of magic cleared, she saw her former star student standing in front of the pony who had been at the head of the line. Twilight looked awful, her mane a mess and her face streaked with tears. Her legs trembled, possibly with exhaustion. She had clearly teleported here from far away.

“Prin … Princess …” Twilight panted.

Celestia stood and gestured. “Guards, please escort Lord Popplewell back to the waiting area. I am taking a short break from court to speak to my … to Princess Twilight. Furnish those ponies who are waiting outside with food and drink if they choose to remain until such time as our business here is concluded, though inform them I am as yet unsure when that will be.”

The guards bowed in perfect unison. “It shall be done, your highness.”

They led the flummoxed lord out and closed the door behind them. Only then did Celestia let her princessly mask slip. She opened her wings and launched herself from her throne, landing before Twilight with quite a different expression than her usual calm serenity.

“Twilight, what’s wrong?”

To her surprise, Twilight glowered up at her.

The engine stallion escorted him off the train and onto Ponyville platform. He kept his head low, shoulders hunched so tense his body looked like it could snap in two at any moment. He did not want to look up at who he knew was behind this.

“Sorry to do that but … it were the only way I could think to get you off the train without you refusin’ to come.”

His neck arched in surprise. He had been convinced Applejack had extended her Element of Harmony influence or whatever to stop the train leaving with him on it. Instead …

“Big Mac?”

The enormous red stallion was not prone to outpourings of emotion. Ever since they were teenagers practising bucking trees together, sweating in the noonday sun and hauling their crops back to the barn many summers ago, he knew his cousin to be a taciturn pony more likely to wander into the orchard than engage in public displays. It was for that reason he had found himself nervously confessing to Big Mac of his crush on a unicorn classmate – and his anxiety because that unicorn was a stallion. Big Mac had treated the confession with the same tranquil acceptance as he did everything and that reaction had somehow heartened him that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out okay after all when the rest of his family found out.

So it was with a rush of surprise that he abruptly found himself swept into Big Mac’s embrace and held tight against his cousin’s barrel chest.

“AJ told me.”

“She shouldn’t have –”

“I won’t say I’m sorry.”

The protest died in his throat. “What?”

“I won’t say it because it don’t need sayin’. You don’t need my sympathy. You don’t need me to pretend I know what you’re goin’ through. I can’t. What I can do is tell you that you’re loved, that you got ponies who care about you an’ who want to help you while you go through it. Your family love you, Braeburn. Ain’t nuthin’ ever gonna change that.”

Emotion burbled inside him. He swallowed it back down. “AJ got hurt when she tried to help me.” He swallowed again. “I … I hurt her.”

“Did you mean to?”

“No.”

“She knows that. She don’t hold no bad feelin’ towards you.”

“I … I can’t s-stay. Spoiled Rich said her husband –”

“You just let me deal with Filthy Rich.”

“If I stay you’ll lose business.”

“We’ll manage. You’re more important.”

“You can’t afford to –”

“You’re. More. Important.”

Those words felt solid. They carried weight behind them. Big Mac never said anything he did not mean.

It’s my fault … it’s all my fault …

He crumpled. The bubble burst, sending a single sob up his throat, out of his mouth and into the air around them. The was the only noise he made as his strength left him. He would have hit the wooden boards of the platform if Big Mac had not been ready and waiting to hold him up.

“I killed him.”

Pinkie braced for a hug that she could not give. The melting ice-cream became salty with tears, his forehooves braced either side of it like if he did not keep the limbs straight he would fall into it face first.

“I … I killed him. He’s dead. An’ it’s my fault. An’ … an’ AJ got hurt … ‘cause of me. Everypony I love … they all get hurt ‘cause of me. I tried so hard to make it all work … spent practically all the money we had on that Manehattan treatment … but he died anyhow. He died not knowin’ where I was, maybe thinkin’ I stayed away on purpose. He died with no-one there but ponies who never accepted him for who he was an’ I ain’t never gonna be able to set that right. I ain’t never gonna hold him ever again. Ain’t never gonna see him when I open my front door. I ain’t never gonna k-kiss …” His voice broke on that word. “I don’t wanna live without him …”

“Back off, Spoiled.”

“Or what?”

“Or you don’t wanna know.”

Spoiled Rich sniffed airily. “Is that a threat, Applejack?”

“No, I’m beggin’ you to go home right now. Please.” The words caught in the back of Applejack’s throat but she said them anyway. Ponies were starting to look over, the argument pulling their attention from their own daily grind. “Spoiled, please, go home an’ we can discuss all this later in private.”

“Discuss what?” Spoiled asked, faux-sweetly. She had noticed the other ponies too. “Discuss how your cousin is a deviant whose degeneracy you’re shielding because even you admit he shouldn’t be in a lovely little town like ours alongside good, wholesome ponies?”

“I said no such thing!” Applejack protested, louder than she intended. She felt another body step forward to draw alongside her and dropped her voice, nudging his shoulder with her own. “No. Go back to Sweet Apple Acres. I’ll be along in a minute. Spoiled Rich an’ I need to have a lil’ chat.”

For a moment she wasn’t sure he would comply. Her lips were forming the word ‘please’ when he sighed and started walking away.

He was just past Spoiled when she smirked. Applejack did not understand nor like that smirk. It portended bad things.

“Keep walkin’,” she warned him.

“I heard you two mention the sickness,” Spoiled mused, raising one foreleg to melodramatically inspect her hooficure, as if they were doing nothing more than discussing the weather. “You meant PIV didn’t you? Nasty business, that.”

Applejack set her jaw. “Yeah. It is. Lotta good ponies who did nuthin’ wrong sufferin’ from it.”

“Good? Seriously? Those degenerate colt-cuddlers?” Spoiled chuckled. “Well as far as I’m concerned, it has only one thing going for it – it’s killing all the right ponies.”

Applejack saw him freeze, saw his shoulders bunch the way her own did in the familiar pose she adopted before bucking down a tree. His hind hooves were already off the floor before she could yell and throw herself forward, shoving Spoiled to the ground.

“No–!”

Pain. She saw stars. Then the world went black.

“Princess Celestia.” Twilight barely kept the tremble from her voice and legs. She hoped Celestia thought it was from fury and the strain of long-distance teleportation, not fear. She was indeed angry and exhausted but the fear of talking this way to her former mentor far outweighed it. Even so, this needed to be done.

“You’re the Princess of Friendship, yeah, but in the day to day what else do you do?”

Twilight drew herself up and took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”

“But Momma … Pappy … please, you can’t mean it!”

He beat his balled-up hooves against the door but it would not budge. Pappy had built that door. It was as good and strong as he was – or so it had always seemed.

A hoof laid on his shoulder, stopping him from beating the door down or breaking his legs against it by trying. He whirled in surprise.

“Grammy Apple Rose?”

She wasn’t his grandmother, in actuality some great-great-aunt, but everypony in the whole Apple Family called her Grammy Apple Rose. She usually had a smile for everyone she saw but right now she just looked sad.

“They ain’t gonna open the door, sweetheart.”

“But … but …”

“C’mon into my place. It’s rainin’ an’ your wet through.”

He sniffled. “My … my things are still up in my room.”

“I’ll take care of that,” she said in a soft but grim way that left no room for doubt that she would, indeed, take care of it. “And of you.”

“Huh?”

“You’re near enough full-grown now, sweetheart. Lots of stallions your age strike out on their own around this age.”

“Not Apples.”

She tilted her head. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

“What?”

“C’mon inside. I got some water boilin’ in a kettle on the fire. I’ll make you a nice cup of tea an’ tell you about this new town some of the family are fixin’ to head out an’ build.”

He allowed himself to be led away from the sturdy door. Though he did not know it now, it was the last time he would ever see it or the familiar house it was attached to. “A new town?”

“Mmmhmm. We’re callin’ it Appleloosa…”

Crescent held his hoof tight as the casket was lowered into the grave. She had chosen to be buried beneath her favourite apple tree, the first she had planted when she and the other elders first decided to settle out here and make a new town for their families to inherit.

“You okay to speak, love?”

He nodded.

“I love you. You can do this.”

“I love you too.”

He stepped forward, all the eyes of those gathered for the funeral upon him. He coughed and looked into the deep hole, down at the pony who had rescued him and brought him out here to a place where he could finally, openly be who he really was. He remembered her wink when he had brought Crescent with him, as if she had known all along that he would ask and Crescent would agree. She always seemed to know more than she let on.

He cleared his throat. “Grammy Apple Rose was the dearest pony I ever had the privilege to call my family …”

Applejack came to slowly in the middle of a circle of ponies. Vaguely, she heard galloping hooves and a door slamming, though it was hard to tell past the ringing in her ears. She blinked and tried to sit up.

“Mrrf, what happened?”

“You got bucked in the face is what happened!” Carrot Top informed her. “Lay back down.”

“I’m fine,” Applejack lied. She pushed herself upright and looked around. “Where’s – ooorgh.” Her head protested loudly at the altitude change.

“That pony in the hat and vest you were with?” Strawberry Dreams threw a hoof over her shoulder. “He ran into Sugarcube Corner the moment you started to wake up.”

Applejack struggled to her feet. She swayed for a moment. “Oooorgguuh.”

“Miss Apple.” A deep voice sliced through the rest and someone buttressed her against the gravity very insistently trying to pull her back to the ground. “I would advise against hurrying after him.”

She blinked into the face of the dun brown pony at her side. “Fil- ourgh.”

Filthy Rich puffed out a breath. “He had an apple cutie mark. Family of yours, I assume.”

“M’cuzzin.”

“Of course he is.” He sighed and looked over to a spot in the crowd. Applejack raised her woozy gaze[n3] to where Spoiled Rich was glaring at her husband, though her expression contained threads of unease and … regret? Or was that just because Applejack could only see her out of one eye? “Miss Apple, I apologise wholeheartedly for this … wholly unnecessary unpleasantness.”

Applejack focussed on making her mouth not sound like she was drunk. “Is he okay? My cousin, I mean.”

“He seemed distressed.”

“After the nasty stuff your vicious nag of a wife said? No wonder!” chimed a voice. It sounded an awful lot like Strawberry Dreams but that couldn’t be right. Applejack tried to find her in the crowd but the pegasus mare had blended into it too well. It seemed like every seller in the market had abandoned their stall or shop to come circle around her. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“I better go talk to him.” Applejack took a step and nearly fell over. “Dangit – oof!”

“You might have a concussion,” Carrot Top opined.

“Gee. Y’think?” sniped Daisy.

“She took a full buck to the face!” Lily shrieked. “From an Apple pony!”

“That would kill someone of a more delicate constitution like us!” Rose’s voice lifted in a whine.

“Sometimes I hate you three more than I hate bad fruit.” Strawberry Dreams again. Where the heck was that ornery pony?

Applejack squinted, hoping the flash of blue and pink overhead was just some passing pegasi and not a heretofore unknown side effect of concussion. Her head pounded in time with her pulse. Probably not a good sign. Even so, she needed to see Braeburn and check he was okay. He was probably beating himself up over accidentally kicking her and he did not need that right now on top of everything else.

“He went into Sugarcube Corner, you say?” she gritted.

“Let me help you.” Filthy Rich walked alongside her, allowing her to rest her weight against him.

Applejack was not sure what Filthy Rich’s kindness meant. Her thoughts were too scrambled to fully process anything beyond the immediate need to find her cousin and make sure he was okay.

“Steady now. Easy,” Filthy Rich murmured, as if she was Diamond Tiara after a nightmare. “Take it slow.” He turned to face the rest of the crowd. “Nothing more to see here. I’d appreciate it if y’all could disperse and go back to your regular activities.”

Grumbling, some of them did so. A few rubberneckers remained, though they kept their distance at his ironclad stare. One of those was Spoiled Rich. She watched them slowly make their way over to the café and stumble to a halt at the closed door. Applejack’s ankle had rolled and she spent a few moments reorienting herself.

“I really am sorry, Applejack.”

She was shocked at the more casual use of her name. For as long as she could remember, she had always been ‘miss Apple’ to Filthy Rich. She looked up and was even more surprised to see his face crumpled in distress.

“What Spoiled said … that was unconscionable. I want to make it completely clear that her words hold absolutely no truth to them. The business relationship between Sweet Apple Acres and Barnyard Bargains is as strong as ever and will remain so.”

Applejack realised her mouth was open. She hastily flapped it shut and coughed. “Thank you.”

“Please don’t thank me. I’m so beyond embarrassed. You Apples are good ponies. All you Apples,” he added meaningfully.

Applejack nodded, gaze sliding back to Sugarcube Corner. “Darn right.”

Pinkie eased over to the other side of the booth. She didn’t need her Pinkie Sense to tell her to reach out and enfold the crying stallion in a hug. He froze up for a second, then began to melt into the embrace, as if grateful for it. She was about to speak when his whole body went stiff once more.

“Let go of me Pinkie Pie.”

She released him. Some ponies thought she was nothing but a bubblehead but Pinkie Pie could recognise a situation for what it was when she needed to. She slid back to the other side of the booth.

“It’s not your fault,” she said simply. “You’re not to blame.”

If anything, that just made him freeze up more. He got stiffly to his hooves, reached into the pocket of his vest and threw down some coins. It was more than enough for the food he had not eaten.

“I gotta go.”

“Wait –”

“No. I … I can’t stay here. Tell AJ I’m … sorry. She’s probably outside waitin’ for me but … I don’t wanna see her.”

Pinkie knew without looking that Rainbow Dash was behind the counter watching everything. “Dashie? Can you bring Applejack into the kitchen through the back so Mrs. Cake can give her some first aid?”

“Uh … sure, Pinks,” Dash replied uncertainly. Her hoofsteps trotted across the café to the front door, which closed behind her. They heard two voices outside. One was Dash’s, the other had a familiar drawl. After a few moments, two sets of hooves trotted away to the back door.

“Thank you, Pinkie Pie.”

With that, he bolted. Pinkie Pie did not stop him.

“What troubles you, sister?” Luna lurked in the doorway. “It is unlike you not to be abed at this late hour.”

Celestia’s study was lit by candlelight. It illuminated the stacks of scrolls and books with which she had surrounded herself. She looked up, her face wreathed in shadows that made it difficult to tell her expression. “The Procreant Matrimonial Act. Do you know what that is, Luna?”

Luna frowned. “I do not.”

“Nine centuries ago … Equestria’s birth rates changed mysteriously. Scientists, mages, sorcerers, hedge witches – every authority of the age tried to explain it but nopony could come up for a rational reason why the numbers of new births dropped to dangerously low numbers and suddenly the majority of those births were to female foals. Infant mortality rates skyrocketed, so even those born often did not survive childhood. It was … an awful time. So many small graves dug every day in cemeteries …”

“This was during my time imprisoned in the moon,” Luna surmised.

Celestia nodded. “It was. I began to wonder whether your absence was the reason for the unnatural events. I upset the balance of magic and natural order of our world when I …” Her throat bobbed. “When I … banished you and rendered the Elements of Harmony inert and the Tree of Harmony unresponsive. I couldn’t check if that was the case until your prophesied return and the Elements’ renewal in the hooves of new Bearers. All I could do was … try to find a way to help our ponies survive as a species in the meantime.”

“Things were truly so dire?”

“They were, Luna. Equestria … nearly ceased to exist, not from invasion or war, but from simple lack of new ponies. Ponies’ lifespans then were much shorter and with each old pony’s passing, there were fewer and fewer foals to take their place. For decades I tried to fix it magically but nothing worked. So I met with my council of that era and we took … a different approach to safeguard our nation’s future.” Celestia gestured at the scroll unfurled on her desk. “This was one thing we did: The Procreant Matrimonial Act. It forbade marriage for anypony unable to bear foals. At the time, birth outside of marriage was unthinkable for our ponies. That has changed now, thankfully, but in that dark time prohibiting marriage for anything but procreation seemed a sensible decision.”

Luna’s frown deepened. “I do not understand. Why is this ancient law, of all things, keeping you awake at night? Does this have something to do with Twilight Sparkle’s recent visit? I heard her voice from the throne room but by the time I arrived she had departed.”

Celestia winced. “It … does.” She sighed. “Luna … I never repealed the Procreant Matrimonial Act. It still exists to this day in Equestrian High Law.”

“But … Equestria’s birth rates are the highest they have ever been and I have seen many stallions and colts of all ages every day since my return.”

“I know. I should have repealed it. I should have done so long ago, when the birth rates picked up and the ratio of male to female ponies began reaching a better balance. It took hundreds of years but even when things were so much better I … balked at repealing the act. I felt that if I did, I would be allowing prior events to happen again. I was distrustful of the apparent good fortune we were receiving without the aid of your presence nor that of the Elements and Tree of Harmony. It seemed … too good to be true that things were improving on their own.”

“So your theory that my return would also bring back balance to Equestria’s natural order?”

Celestia was silent.

“Sister?”

“I don’t know, Luna. You’ve been back for such a short time … and what if I was wrong?”

“And so you still did not repeal the Act.”

She shook her head.

“And this is what prompted Twilight Sparkle’s visit?”

“She … didn’t know about the current status of the Procreant Matrimonial Act. It never affected her or anyone she knew before. It was just some historical fact thrown up from her studies of life nine hundred years ago. She didn’t think it still existed.”

“And she hence discovered that it does?”

Celestia’s nod was jerky, her voice rough. “She called me cruel. Amongst other things. She was … so angry. She told me of a stallion who came to see her today and demanded to know why I would ever let such a malicious law stand in modern Equestria. And I … didn’t know how to answer her.”

“Why not?” Luna asked softly. It was rare to see her older sister so upset.

“Because I didn’t know how to tell her I was too scared to stop being as cruel as she said. And I didn’t know how to say she was right and admit I was wrong … for so long … and all the ponies like that stallion whose lives I affected by being too scared to repeal a piece of paper I wrote with ponies who have been dead for nine hundred years and do not have to live with the consequences of our decisions.”

Luna approached cautiously. Celestia did not stop her. Neither did she stop her when Luna took hold of the quill in her magic and placed it down on the desk so she could pull her into an embrace.

“You do not rule alone anymore, my dear sister,” Luna said into Celestia’s shoulder. “I am here to help ease your burdens.”

“I’m sorry, Luna.” Celestia’s chest hitched. “I’m sorry …”

Big Mac led the way up the path to Sweet Apple Acres farmhouse, every so often stopping to make sure he was being followed.

“I ain’t gonna run away again.”

“Hope not.”

“I was just …”

Big Mac nodded. The rest of the sentence did not need to be said aloud: he had been scared at losing his temper and, as he saw it, accidentally hurting someone else he loved. It wasn’t the same as Crescent but it had chimed too hard in his memory for the emotions it rang to stop reverberating in his mind or his heart.

The farmhouse loomed.

Braeburn’s hoofsteps slowed – even more when he saw the orange pony on the porch. Applejack had a shiner he could see even from here. He all but turned and ran. In fact he probably would have, had Big Mac’s comforting presence not spurred him on.

Applejack stood when he got close. She waited for him to reach the bottom of the steps, not saying a word. He licked his lips, not sure what to say either.

“AJ … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have –”

His words were lost in the sudden embrace as she vaulted down the steps and wrapped him in a tight hug.

“You’re loved,” she whispered fiercely.

Memories of a sad little filly on a swingset rose in his mind. The sob he had choked down burbled back up his throat. He could not speak for fear of letting it loose.

“You don’t need my forgiveness or my sympathy. You don’t need me to pretend I know what you’re goin’ through. I can’t. I’ve lost ponies but my grief ain’t the same as yours an’ I ain’t arrogant enough to pretend all grief is the same or all ponies mourn the same way.” She held onto him as he began to tremble. “But I can tell you that you got ponies who care about you an’ who want to help you while you go through it. Your family love you, Braeburn Apple. Ain’t nuthin’ ever gonna change that.”

His eyes stung with the pressure of trying to hold in the emotions suddenly boiling to the surface.

“We’re all here for you. I’m here for you. I know you probably don’t want me around right now but … I’ll still be here, ready for if you do need me.”

“We all will,” Big Mac added in his sonorous voice, so placid and confident that there was no way to disagree with the simple statement.

The door was open. Granny Smith was there, nodding, with Apple Bloom by her side. The little filly looked up, as if checking she was not about to be stopped, and then hopped down the steps, yelling.

“We love you, Cousin Braeburn! You gotta know that!”

Maybe it was that stupidly simplistic statement from a child who could not possibly know the complexity of the situation. Maybe it was the tightness of AJ’s hug and the slight scent of antiseptic coming off her. Maybe it was the warmth of the soil under his hooves and the warmth of family around him. It could have been all of these things or none at all, but his legs suddenly were boneless. His hooves spasmed and he tumbled fully into Applejack’s embrace, wheezing and crying into her chest fur all the pain he could not put into words. He held his cousin close and finally let loose the heartbreak that had started to leak out in Sugarcube Corner.

“I’m here,” she said, over and over. “I’m here.”

REFERENCES

“They just look pretty while doin’ as little as possible.”
-- In early 1985, the Centre for Disease Control developed America’s first AIDS prevention plan, led by renowned epidemiologist Dr. Donald Francis. Ronald Reagan’s government was quick to reject it on February 4th 1985. In August 2012 Dr. Francis recounted in an article in the Journal of Public Health Policy that Dr. John Bennett, the CDC's central coordinator for AIDS and the AIDS Task Force chairman, told him: "Don, they rejected the plan. They said, 'Look pretty and do as little as you can.'" I came across this quote in a Lindsay Ellis video about Rent back in 2018 and it spurred me to do more research and thus was one of the reasons this story was even written in the first place.
(https://www.history.com/news/aids-epidemic-ronald-reagan)

Crescent listed me as his life partner on account of that’s all he could list me as. An’ ‘life partner’ ain’t a legally recognised term
-- Side-fling to a line from the movie ‘Longtime Companion’, which was probably the most harrowing look at HIV’s impact on the gay community in the 80s that I ever saw until It’s a Sin premiered in 2021.
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s2IRTKGHYvA)

In effect, this disease reduces those fragile immunities to almost zero, which allows diseases that the body would normally fight off to take a firmer hold and do more damage.
-- A very, very simplified version of what HIV and AIDs do to the human body.

Spoiled shrugged. “They’re the same thing, aren’t they?”
-- One of the more horrific mistruths about gay men that was circulated during the AIDs epidemic and was used to justify not funding research was that paedophilia was rife within the gay community. When I was a little kid in primary school with no frame of reference to understand the adult conversations around me, I overheard a pair of mothers waiting to pick their kids up at the end of the day, talking about our ex-headmaster who had been fired after he was outed against his will, which these mothers heartily approved of because, as a gay man, he was ‘unsafe to have around children’. That kind of attitude was horribly common and still persists today in some places.

“Well as far as I’m concerned, it has only one thing going for it – it’s killing all the right ponies.”
-- This is almost word for word the title of an episode of Designing Women from 1987 ( Season 2, Ep 4) entitled ‘Killing all the Right People’. In it, a young man dying of AIDS asks the main characters to help design his funeral, as his family have disowned him for being gay and he has no-one else to ask for help. Series creator Linda Bloodworth-Thomason's mother died of AIDS from a blood transfusion and her experience with her mother's disease and the prejudice associated with it inspired the episode. In a single 22 minute episode, Designing Women gave more education about AIDs to the American public than the Reagan government did in the entire epidemic. I saw Matt Baume’s video on this around the same time as I watched the Lindsay Ellis video about Rent I mentioned above (I think it might even have been a recommended video, so the YouTube algorithm was finally useful for something) and for once I started with the title of a story and built the rest of the narrative from there.
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9hthJmbDQWY)