Faithfully Yours

Braeburn

1st October

Dear AJ

Howdy! Sure hope this is the right address; it was no easy feat getting hold of it.

"How was the wedding?" I hear you cry, despite not one letter for nearly two months! (Dare I say it? Shame on you!) If I've been a little flighty in my own correspondence with my fellow Apples, it's just because the past month has damn near taken it out of me. I'm sure you know that after putting it off for as long as equinely possible, Rarity has finally moved up to Appleloosa. I think it was the new stirrings in agriculture that convinced her in the end; there's big money in this Flimflam chain, and with a little work we'll have gained their investment well in time for Hearth's Warming Eve. Celestia knows the move's been hard for the poor filly, what with her being so darn classy, but she's a strong girl, and of course it came with a catch: we had to have our wedding in the same month as the royals. It's good luck, apparently.

I don't know what trigged this urgency of hers to get hitched, but luckily every Appleloosan pulled their weight to give Rarity her perfect day and make Trixie and Blueblood's look like a street party (not that my girl couldn't outshine Her Highness on looks alone anyway). The late notice ruled out some of the more extravagant services; some renowned cellist by the name of Octavia wasn't contactable, which disappointed Rarity. But heck, if that was her only complaint I knew we'd done her proud.

But then, I guess it wasn't her only complaint, as I'm sure you realise. Toffee's renowned lemon drizzle tarts and Silverstring's beautiful harp solos didn't solve the problem of the guests. Sure, every Apple this side of Equestria showed - they were all asking after you by the way - but I ain't gonna lie; Rarity was more than a little disappointed that so few of her Ponyville friends could make it. I mean Rainbow Dash was there, strutting about with that flash Wonderbolt fella of hers, (he, at least, seemed to remember the square dancing lessons you gave them at Mac's wedding!) But as far as everyone else was concerned, I guess it was just damn rotten timing. Twilight Sparkle had been called back to Canterlot on royal business, something to do with "the redistribution of authority in light of Blueblood's marriage", and heck only knows what was keeping that crazy little filly Pinkie Pie. But AJ, it was your absence that was the icing on the cake. After your performance at Big Mac's wedding I'll bet you had every lusty young Apple jealous of you for being a free agent, so you can imagine my surprise when Big Mac steps off the train alone a week before ours, telling me that Fluttershy can't make it because they're too busy to both take time off, and Applebloom's chosen to take care of Granny Smith who's sick, and all on account of my wholesome cousin Applejack skipping town with some business stallion!

Now I won't sugar-coat it; Big Mac sure didn't seem happy about the arrangement - he refused to talk about it anyway. But AJ, much as I'm inclined to lecture you about the Apple family values, I know you haven't had a lot of luck in love, and if you've gone and found yourself a prize colt, then Gosh darn it, I'm happy for you. But don't go leaving us high and dry now, you hear? Whoever the lucky stallion is, I want to know all about him in your letter back, and I want a written guarantee that you'll be coming up to Appleloosa in the near future so that I can personally shake his hoof. I'm assuming wedding bells will be ringing in due time? Get in there soon, and you might still get a slice of that royal good luck, if that offer's still valid that is. I'll consult the expert over supper.

For now, all the best Cuz, and don't leave me hanging!

Much love

Braeburn xxx

Applejack finished the letter, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Inclining her head to the ashtray of the bistro table, she took up her cigarette and gazed out over the balcony. It was a typical Manehatten morning, with an edge of autumn unfurling leisurely as it waited to be run into the dust by galloping hooves. It was barely past six, but the bedroom smelled of the dregs of the night, and she'd needed fresh air - whereupon she had remembered the letter she'd concealed the morning before, when likewise, she'd risen early. With a quick glance through the french doors of the elegant penthouse apartment, she slid the letter towards her, swallowed, and tore it carefully down the middle. She tore the pieces several more times, before gently conveying them to the ashtray and dropping her lit cigarette on top. They smoked feebly, the scrawny grey tendrils climbing the flat air, while the remains swiftly curled black. Then she felt her husband's breath on her neck, and looked up into the white sky.

"Come back to bed, Jacqueline."

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