Faithfully Yours

                                                                                                                                                              13th May

Rarity stood on the front porch, fanning herself tiresomely as she eyed the hanging baskets on either side of the door. It had been a beautiful morning in Appleloosa, as usual. Rarity always awoke at sunrise, when the scent of apples leapt from the orchard on the morning breeze and fell like shot birds over the town. But now the infamous midday heat was descending. It suckled sweat from the corners of her dress and peeled the strength from her flowers. It broke the breeze's back.

Trading her decorative hand-held fan for her watering can, she resumed tending to the freshly replaced forget-me-nots. This was the day of the visit, and she wasn't going to waste peace that Sweetie Belle's arrival had granted her. Now that Apple Bloom had someone to play with, Rarity could devote her time to what she did best. After all, she had no desire to welcome the Flims to shoddy peasant dwellings.

"Darling, will you come and tell me if these look okay?" Rarity called to her husband through the open door. The back door was open as well, so that their unending, unspecified back yard gaped at her from the porch. Both doors were always open from early morning to late at night, and the house held noise, wind and sentiments little better than a cracked shell. The flat songs of the wind chime seemed to be the only thing that stayed in this house, rolling in and out of it like a penny waiting to drop.

"If they look anything like the last twelve, sweetness, then yes, they look fine." Was the exasperated response from the kitchen. Rarity sighed. She had thought she was good at gardening, until she moved here, and her green hooves had turned brown like everything in this heat that didn't bear apples.

She was fussing over the right basket when her husband did, in fact, make an appearance.

"Rarity, we got any wine left?"

The sandy stallion was dusted with wood-shavings from the whittling that had become his second nature.

"Oh goodness", Rarity muttered as she brushed him down, "I do hope you got this mess out of the kitchen."

"Kitchen's fine." He replied, casting a look out into the street. "I was, uh, gonna open up a bottle for us all to have over dinner."

Rarity looked up at her husband, and then back down at his waistcoat. "I think there's a bottle tucked away somewhere. I'll fetch it once I'm done out here."

"Well if ya'll just tell me where it is then I'll - "

"They're here!"

The ornate black wagon charging along the dirt road at the hooves of two soberly clad chauffer stallions could belong to nopony else. The spokes churned the Appleloosan dust that shrouded the faces of captivated locals. All had caught wind of the visit.

The wagon came to a halt about five yards from the porch, and with a sinister clank, a miniature flight of steel steps unfolded from the carriage. Flim descended them first, looking dapper as ever in a tweed vest and a quaker hat. His eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the sunlight, and seemed to enjoy a brief period of liberation, before locking into a picture of courteousness. He presently held out a hoof for his wife, and Applejack proceeded to unfurl from the carriage like Rarity's elegant fan. She was clad in a magnificent high-collared burgundy gown and a matching wide-brimmed summer hat. Sunlight was sheathed into her blonde fringe, under which her green eyes glittered like stained glass windows, her pupils having shrunk in the sudden onslaught of light. Then they landed on Rarity, and this animated fashion illustration turned back into her best friend.

"Well howdy-do! You must be Mr Flim! My stars if it isn't good to meet ya after all this time!"

Braeburn was already shaking Flim by the hoof with a vigour that could have shaken off the last year with it.

"The pleasure's all mine I assure you, dear cousin. Why, I'm most contrite we couldn't visit sooner. Alas, circumstances were such that it was impossible. As a fellow farm pony I'm sure you'll understand."

"Say no more about it! We's just gotta make up for lost time by making sure ya'll have a mighty good day! And AJ get your flank over here! Gosh darn it I've missed you girl!"

Applejack and Rarity had meanwhile slid into a tentative embrace, like two kites tied at the same spot. Were it not for Braeburn's demand, they'd have stayed there a good while longer.

--

"To family." Flim raised his glass with his horn. Rarity followed suit, while Applejack and Braeburn made a respectful effort with their hooves.

"To family." They reiterated, before sipping the juniper wine that Rarity had retrieved with little trouble.

Apple Bloom, who sat next to Sweetie Belle and opposite Applejack, had her eyes planted moodily on her plate, and the ample mound of tartiflette that resided there. Despite her lack of green hooves and recent difficulties tracking down the local grocer, Rarity had done the Apples proud.

Apple Bloom had arrived in Appleloosa a few days ago, when Fluttershy had arranged to take three personal days during which, she insisted, she would look after Granny Smith while her young sister-in-law visited her cousins. A month ago Big Mac would have objected passionately, but since their change in circumstances, his duty was now simply to avoid his wife's eyes when she was nursing his grandma in his home.

Apple Bloom had yet to meet the eyes of her sister, whose coy "howdy squirt" had been wholly inadequate after nine months of estrangement. Her husband's greeting hadn't gone down well either; after everything that had happened, the famous Flim had simply regarded Applebloom with a brief "delighted to meet you again, young Filly" and a cold, disinterested eye. She didn't care, she had decided with a heavy heart. She could never have felt anything but anger anyway.

"So Apple Bloom, what's new in Ponyville?" Rarity inquired, after two consecutive glasses of water. "Are the garden farmers faring any better?"

"The flower ponies are gettin' by." Apple Bloom said without looking up. "But nopony can really grow vegetables now. I mean they just get  taxed by the protectioners and raided by the Diamond dogs, so  it ain't worth the cost of keepin' the patches. I'm surprised Carrot Top didn't tell ya all that."

Braeburn wiped his mouth. "Well that filly sure is a tough one to get close to. I've been trying to wheedle it outta her for months. I gave up eventually, didn't want her to think I only help her with her garden to get the inside story on Ponyville."

Rarity blinked. She hadn't been aware that Carrot Top had moved to Appleloosa, although it was no surprise that another had relocated. She smiled pleasantly. "Well, darling, since you're sparing her your time, perhaps she can spare us some vegetables. At this rate, I can't see us having another meal like this for a while."

Braeburn cackled disparagingly. "She ain't been able to grow nothing in this heat! This is by far the hottest spring we've had in Appleloosa."

"Our town too!" Chimed Sweetie Belle. "The pegasi must be getting lazy."

Rarity rose. "Sweetie, help me with the plates."

The white filly dismounted her stool solemnly, and Applejack made an attempt to help too, but Rarity swiftly quelled it.

"Ah ah! Leave it to us, darling. You are a guest."

"Aren't I a guest too?" Sweetie Belle chirped behind a growing stack of crockery.

"You take more than enough liberties, Sweetie. Let the rest of our family have a few."

Flim chuckled and rose lazily, wandering through the wide doorway that divided the dining room from the lounge.

"My my, what fabulous firearms."

Braeburn leaned back in his chair. "I take it you're eyin' up Brenda and Marilyn."

"Are they genuine duelling muskets?"

"I'll be a damned if my Grandpappy used anythin' less. Cigars are in the box on the mantle, by the by."

"Splendid." Flim crooned, lifting the lid of the tinder box with his horn and bringing a cigar into flight. "Are you smoking too?"

"I don't see why not."

Applejack was still sat at the table in silence. She knew the cigars were for guests; Braeburn himself didn't smoke. Apple Bloom at this point had gone into the kitchen to keep Sweetie Belle company, unwilling to sit there alone with her sister and Braeburn.

Flim animated a second cigar and sent it gliding towards Braeburn, who caught it between his teeth. Then the farm stallion heaved himself off the chair and joined Flim in the living room. The business stallion had now removed one of the muskets from its wire holdings by way of his horn, and was examining it on a much closer level. There were some things only a unicorn could get away with, courtesy of their deft magic.

Braeburn retrieved a framed picture from the corner of the room and set it down on the coffee table.

"This here's my Grandpappy." He announced proudly.

Flim turned from the musket, still keeping it air-born, and brought his lit cigar to hover on his other side, as he examined the picture of the Earth stallion. The stocky pony was standing on his back hooves, clad in old-fashioned rural attire. One of the muskets stood at his side, and his left hoof was proudly settled on its muzzle. Applejack came to peer at the photo too, for this was Braeburn's grandfather from his father's side, to whom she was no relation.

"And could he really duel?" Flim inquired, raising his eyebrows.

"Ofcourse! Ya see him there with Marilyn don't ya?"

Flim smiled wryly. "Well, with respect, cousin, it must have been rather difficult." The yellow stallion's eyes strayed and he gave the musket a casual twirl with his magic . He muttered distantly, "One wonders how he aimed the old girl, for starters."

Braeburn laughed hollowly. "He's holding her in the picture, surely that gives ya confidence enough."

Flim cocked his head. "To hold in what sense though? I mean to say, in spite of those delightful pet names you've bestowed on them, holding a gun isn't the same as holding a mare," Flim turned around to face Applejack, putting his hoof to her cheek and sliding it behind her fringe. "Is it, Jacqueline?"

"I thought we'd have desert later on, since the sun's still high and we're all so full-" Rarity had marched into the lounge, stopping when she saw Flim and Applejack, the musket hovering at the stallion's side, and the cigar suspended precariously between them.

Flim turned his head promptly. "Capital suggestion, Rarity." Then he released Applejack and levitated the gun back onto its stand, before summoning his cigar back to his lips, and sitting down in an armchair. "Do you duel, Braeburn?"

Braeburn laughed gratefully, relishing the turn the conversation had taken. "I've had more than enough practise. I'll fancy I'm the best around these parts."

Rarity pursed her lips, making her way to Applejack's side. "Well, if you boys are alright here, I might suggest Applejack and I take a walk through the orchards. The girls have gone out to play and I could do with some fresh air myself."

--

There was something bleak about the artificial wood, this dehydrated Sweet Apple Acres and its trees planted like teeth, each with an apron of white light, and a batch of roots splayed below like a singular webbed foot. The ground was rock-hard and sported a stubble of wiry ginger grass that combed the hems of their dresses as they wandered through the dappled light and shade.

"I must say Rarity, I'm surprised." Applejack said, her parasol waggling as she talked. It was customary for gentlemares to hook the accessory about the collar. "I weren't expectin' no outdoor excursion. I figured you'd have us sittin' in somepony's livin' room for bridge night or embroidery night or whatever the heck."

Rarity smirked cordially. "I'm afraid the activity of the Appleloosan Ladies Society is rather sparse at the moment. What little headway we made at the convention was made by me alone, and Chantilly's been terribly busy setting up her new union." The white mare gave a surreptitious look before adding, "The Asmawm Sumsu."

Applejack raised an eyebrow. "The what now?"

Rarity took a deep breath. "The Appleloosan Settler Mares and Assimilated Working Mares of Small Means Support Union. Their goal, as far as I understand it, is to offer a sympathetic hoof to the struggling masses, and discuss pragmatic, dignified ways of bettering the current situation for unemployed farm 'and other such' ponies."

Applejack snorted. "Sounds like the product of second hand city talk to me. And how's they intend to go about this noble task, besides toastin' to the welfare of the economy over brunch?"

Rarity's eyes glazed over, then her head darted upwards at a familiar sound - an increasingly loud, low, flat whistling. The source met her eyes directly, whereupon, between the canopies, she could make out the regular line of sunny yellow industrial chariots coursing through the sky at the hooves of the muscular work pegasi.

"Oh look! That's the workforce of this orchard. They fly very high, you see, to survey the entire area. Those must be the ones who worked overtime, the rest packed up and went home hours ago. See, they live about six miles out in a town they built very recently. I forget the name of it. Braeburn acts as the foreman, or some kind of equivalent." Rarity narrowed her eyes, and she slipped into abrupt contemplation. "You know, this one time, I was out walking, not so far out as this, and one of the workers approached me and made some...rather lewd advances. When I told Braeburn, he wrote to the central offices of your husband's company, and received a swift response from Flam himself. He fired the worker the very next day." Her tone was unfathomable, until she briskly turned back to her amber friend. "I'm sorry what were we talking about? The union?"

Applejack rolled her eyes in vague despair. The intense heat clearly had a more profound effect on her friend that she'd supposed. "So why ain't yall a member of this quaint li'l pack?"

"Well, I hardly fit the criterion do I? Braeburn and I aren't struggling like their families, and we agreed that it was better if I pursued the issues of the ladies society, given my natural advantage." The last line came out a little too urgently, and Rarity glanced at Applejack, worried she might have touched a nerve, but the former farm pony gracefully changed the subject.

"Here now, ya'll ain't even shown me your new boutique!"

"Oh I would, were it not temporarily out of action. I was renting the shop from Caramel's sister Tofee, you see, she lives on the floor above. But since Caramel moved up here, she's needed the room herself. Ponyville is in a frightful way. In any case, my inspiration is pretty dried up these days. I only really have the last of last season's line, and it would hardly do to sell them."

"I don't see why not. You're the only point of reference for fashion in this town. You can dress 'em up in whatever ya like."

Rarity shook her head. "Oh, they couldn't afford my gowns now anyway."

"Why don't you go do business with the workforce's town?"

Rarity smiled. "That's what Chantilly said, right after I suggested she do the same. I don't think she appreciated me offering a solution to her union's plight before she'd even time to move her podium out of my back yard."

The two mares laughed.

Applejack looked up through the canopies, between the lit up skeletons of the leaves, where the blue sky tumbled outwards, and the trails of the pegasi were quickly petering out. She realised that there was something terrifying about that sky, how every possible thought frayed and ended somewhere on that endless canvas; fell and skidded and died. The orchard might as well have been a field of parasols, where Rarity made a futile effort to shield herself from the hot, wild nothingness that threatened her on all sides.

"Ah, here we are." Rarity puffed.

The trees stepped back to reveal a clearing, where a bulbous cavity had been formed in the ground by a brook. Its path emerged from between the trees, widening to a width of about four yards, and tumbled down into a chasm, where it was pounded back into the earth like a silk quilt caught in a sewing machine. The sun-bleached skeleton of a dead tree oversaw its journey, and cast dramatic stripes of shadow over the patchy ground. This was a somewhat more fertile area, and the bank was encrusted with weeds and gorse bushes alive with the chirping of crickets and hissing of rattle snakes. Dragon flies plunged theatrically and mosquitoes drew elaborate knots in the air, delirious with the flattened scent of desert flowers and animal carcasses. If Rarity knew there was rotting flesh and poisonous reptiles concealed within that wiry garden, she paid the fact no regard as she unfolded the picnic blanket. Applejack wondered with dry mirth, if she had come to terms with it before she'd stopped dragging her chais lounge out with her.

As Rarity lay down the blanket, Applejack surveyed the area aimlessly, clambering over the rocks of the broken, bloated ground where the water was recieved. Here she could see the brook's path out of the clearing, and could make out Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom playing in it about half a mile away, where the trees remained fairly sparse. They appeared to have stopped on a couple of protruding stones within the brook to talk to each other intensely. Then their distant little faces turned, revealing a flurry of marble eyes, before they swiftly turned back to one another. Applejack's own eyes fell to the rocks beneath her, though she couldn't bring herself to move away, or even turn her head when she addressed Rarity.

"Cutie mark crusaders sure are quiet now."

Rarity was rummaging in the folds of her dress for her bug repellent. "Oh, are they playing in the brook again? Well I suppose they would be, Celestia knows that's all Sweetie does when she comes here - "

"She hates me."

"Sweetie Belle? No! Of course she caught wind of you running away, but -"

"No! Apple Bloom."

"Well," The white unicorn had levitated her bug repellent and was guiding it around the blanket, spritzing. "Sweetie Belle has been so excited to tell her all the news from Scootaloo. Apparently that filly has all sorts of juicy secrets as Rainbow's assistant. There's one that Sweetie won't even tell me. No doubt Apple Bloom's mind is just a little preoccupied at the moment."

The orange mare turned to her. "Any more excuses for me?"

Rarity shrugged, and smiled sadly. "She's growing up."

Applejack look back at the ground. "And I missed almost a year of it."

"I'm not going to tell you that what you did was right, Applejack. It was romantic, certainly, but incredibly selfish."

Applejack turned sharply upon hearing the elegant pony deliver such a terse sentiment.

Rarity swallowed and continued. "But I know you, darling. Because you're still the same pony I knew last summer, who put on that wonderful wedding party. You are not selfish ...or romantic." It was clear that Rarity's point had trailed away into pondering, and Applejack ground her teeth, expecting her to start prying. Instead, Rarity turned her attention to the other bottle tucked into her dress. "But, since you're determined to hate yourself, I'll play my part and deny you any of this."

--

"Why don't you just stop buyin' the wine? He'll find it in the end."

The unicorn turned to her friend, narrowing her eyes. "You're  kidding, right? Do you know how lucky I am to get good wine out here ? I manage it through my connections in the textile businesses you know. I'm sure the other Appleloosan mares would struggle terribly." She looked down, settling the bottle between her back hooves.  "And anyway, he can't find it if I drink it. It's not like I can go to the saloon, that's his territory." She added, as if reciting a stale mantra; "Married mares don't go to the saloon."

"Wouldn't stop me."

"Then what does?"

"I don't drink. I'd sooner do my own head in, save the booze the trouble."

Rarity chuckled, relishing Applejack's dry wit. "Be that as it may, I am quite used to it. I live with a perpetual hangover - my husband's."

Applejack smirked, letting her eyes drift shut on the immaculate blue sky.

"Now it's my turn to ask a question."

"Go ahead." Applejack sighed reluctantly.

"Why did you get your hair cut like that?"

The amber mare sat up. "That's all ya wanted to ask me?"

Rarity fiddled with the neck of the bottle. "For now, yes."

Applejack sniggered dryly after a moment. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised, you bein' so passionate about that stuff."

"And how!" The unicorn declared, now noticeably tipsy. "And might I say what a wonderful cut it is, darling. Why, with such volume as you've been blessed with devoted to a fringe instead of a scruffy long ponytail, I find myself quite unable to stop looking at it."

Applejack laughed without smiling. "Is that so."

"So much so," Rarity mused, turning to her friend square on. "That I sometimes forget" - with a flit of her horn, she quickly and gently swept the fringe to the side - "That you're the pony behind it."

Rarity's mouth drifted shut, and she armed her eyes with resilience as her suspicions were confirmed. Rolling like storm clouds over her friend's cheek and clotting around the outer corner of her right eye, was an immense dark bruise, tinged like a magpie with shards of green and blue. Applejack cast her head away hastily, her fringe toppling back down.

"He don't do it much." She said carefully. "I mean, he can't. Only when he's pickled, and even then he's careful. Celestia knows we gotta look good for public appearances."

"Leave him, AJ." Rarity whispered.

"And go where?" Applejack snapped.

"Anywhere! Ponyville, Canterlot, Manehatten - come live here!" She was suddenly immersed  in an imaginary freedom that wasn't even hers.

Applejack's eyes adopted a ferocious sincerity. "I don't think you understand, Rarity. If Appleloosans hate you here - "

"They don't -"

"-Imagine what the elite think of me there. You think they're happy when they see me on the arm of one of the richest business stallions in Equestria? In the times we live in now?"

Rarity bit her lip, and Applejack took a shaky breath, heaving back her emotions.

"But I am, through some crazy twist of fate, and they can't do nothin' but work with it. So long as there's a seat for Lady Jacqueline Flim at the next hoity-toity convention, there's a place for my kind in this world."

Applejack sighed bitterly, feeling Rarity's gaze remain on her as she looked out at the tumbling brook.  "Forget the politics, that ain't neither here nor there. I'm not sorry I married him, Rarity. If he beat me half to death I wouldn't be sorry."

Rarity's hoof hovered about her friend's shoulder, but couldn't resolve a landing before Applejack had stalked away, returning to her position over the chasm. The unicorn cast her head about futilely, taking in how blue the sky was, and how immensely free they weren't. She looked back down at her bottle, thought about drinking it, but instead let it fall from her hooves. It slid down the bank a little as she turned her back on it.

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had now gone, but Applejack was staring at where they had been, when she heard the high pitched grunt of Rarity bucking the bottle, and the ensuing smash as it hit a rock. When she looked back, Rarity was breathing through her mouth, and the brook, on which her eyes danced wildly, was momentarily tinted red.