Chapters Chapter 1: Bound by Ties and Lies
Chapter 1: Bound by Ties and Lies
The echo of the judge’s gavel resounded through the courtroom, a solitary note of finality that seemed to linger in the thick air. "Not guilty."
Chaos erupted like a storm, an angry symphony of screams and curses filling the room. The gallery, packed with ponies, broke into a cacophony of outrage. Cries of "murderer" and "the death of justice" rang out, a chorus of the damned condemning the verdict. Royal Guards struggled to contain the surging tide of fury, their hooves pressed against the swell of bodies desperate to breach the barrier between spectator and defendant.
Bad Apple, dressed in a sharp black suit with a crimson tie that contrasted against his dark coat, stood beside his client with an air of unshakable confidence. The mare beside him—Blood Diamond, a pampered scion of Canterlot's elite—exhaled a breath she must have been holding for days. Relief washed over her face, but it was the smug smile that caught Bad Apple's attention. It was the same arrogant curve of the lips he'd seen countless times before, the hallmark of those who believe they are untouchable. Today, that belief had been reaffirmed. She had gotten away with murder, and his bank account was several thousand bits heavier for it.
The enchanted gavel came down again, its sound magical in its ability to silence the room. The angry cries died instantly, leaving only the heart-wrenching sobs of the victim’s mother. Bad Apple’s eyes flicked to her briefly—Short Sprint, a mare broken by grief, her spirit crushed beneath the weight of her loss. He quickly dismissed her from his thoughts. Her sorrow was inconsequential to him, a mere footnote in the grander scheme of things.
The judge’s gaze—a mix of sadness and barely restrained fury—fixed on Bad Apple and Blood Diamond. But Bad Apple was used to that look. It was the price of being the best at what he did. The judge’s eyes flicked upward, seeking something, or someone. There, in the upper seats, sat Princess Celestia. The judge’s look was almost desperate, pleading for intervention. But the Princess, with her millennia of practiced poise, remained as unmoving as a statue. She was the embodiment of blind justice today, though Bad Apple suspected she was well aware of the irony. After a moment, the judge sighed, realizing no divine intervention was forthcoming.
"Mrs. Blood Diamond, you have been found not guilty by a jury of your peers." The words were forced, heavy with the judge's disapproval. "However, it is clear that you were intoxicated while operating your carriage and speeding in a residential area. By the power vested in me by Princess Celestia, you are hereby ordered to pay 1,000 bits to the family of the deceased, Long Strider. Additionally, you are mandated to attend rehabilitation. If you cannot afford it, the state will assign one for you."
The final strike of the gavel punctuated the judge's statement, officially ending the trial. Bad Apple could already see the post-trial motions brewing in the minds of the prosecution. Good. More chances to drag this out, more chances to bill his client’s obscenely wealthy parents.
As the courtroom began to empty, everyone stood as Princess Celestia rose to leave, the courtroom protocol demanding respect even from those who felt none. Bad Apple, ever the rebel, sat down before she exited, a small act of defiance he knew would go unnoticed by most but not all. It was one of the reasons he was called arrogant. But arrogance was relative, and in Canterlot, it was a currency he traded in daily.
Blood Diamond, oblivious to his thoughts, wrapped her hooves around him in a hug, her relief palpable, her gratitude irritating. “Thank you, thank you. I thought I was going to have to spend the rest of my life with the…” She shuddered, the word 'lower class' hanging unspoken in the air, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “…in the dungeons.”
Bad Apple smiled, but it was a smile devoid of warmth, more a calculated gesture to keep her under his influence. “No problem,” he responded smoothly, the words automatic, rehearsed. He began to gather his things, his mind already on the next step. “I can escort you to my office, and we can discuss your final payment.”
Blood Diamond beamed, her joy as irritating as her hug. “Yes, and thank you. Those vultures out there will be waiting for me. I don’t understand why Celestia hasn’t banned the paparazzi and those reporters out of Canterlot yet. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”
Bad Apple chuckled, extending his hoof to her. “Then let's get going.”
As they stepped out of the courtroom, they were met by the inevitable swarm of reporters. Their questions were as sharp and probing as ever, but Bad Apple had dealt with them enough times to parry their words with practiced indifference. Blood Diamond walked like a queen among peasants, her nose high, ignoring their jabs and accusations of bribery. Bad Apple mirrored her, offering only the most generic of responses. "The prosecution's case was strong, but ours was stronger."
They almost made it through unscathed, but just as they reached the stairs, Blood Diamond halted abruptly. Bad Apple, caught off guard, looked ahead and saw her obstacle: a mare, gaunt and broken, her eyes dead and filled with nothing but pain. It took Bad Apple a moment to remember her—Short Sprint, Sky Kicker’s mother.
She was a wreck, her body a shadow of what it had once been, and yet the hatred in her eyes burned with a life that was terrifying in its intensity. Blood Diamond froze, her arrogance melting away under the older mare's gaze.
“Why did you kill my daughter?” The question was a whisper, yet it struck like a thunderclap.
Blood Diamond was speechless, her mouth opening and closing as she struggled to find words. Finally, she managed to stammer out, “I did not kill your daughter. It was a tragic—”
The crack of hoof against stone cut her off, a sound so violent that it echoed through the now silent courtyard. Short Sprint had stomped down with such force that the stone beneath her hoof split. Bad Apple’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the dark tendrils of magic beginning to swirl around the mare. The air crackled with energy, and the look in her eyes left no doubt about her intentions—this was a pony pushed to the edge, driven by a grief so profound it had corrupted her very essence.
Blood Diamond’s eyes went wide, her fear rendering her silent as the crowd watched in stunned silence. The dark magic coiled around Short Sprint, her body trembling with the effort to contain it. The guards hesitated, uncertain of how to approach a situation so charged with raw, unstable power.
But Bad Apple was not one to hesitate. He saw the danger, assessed the risk, and acted. With a swift, decisive motion, he surged forward, his hoof connecting with Short Sprint’s chin with a force that dropped her instantly. The dark magic dissipated, leaving her unconscious and vulnerable on the cold stone steps.
For a moment, everything was still. Then, as if a spell had been broken, the courtyard erupted into chaos. Reporters fled, the guards rushed forward, and Bad Apple was left standing over the unconscious mare, the taste of adrenaline sharp in his mouth. Blood Diamond clung to him, her tears soaking into his coat.
“No, I stopped her before she could finish the spell,” Bad Apple explained to the guards, who were now assessing the situation with the detached professionalism of those used to cleaning up messes.
It took the guards thirty minutes to process everything, and in that time, Bad Apple remained calm, though his answers were vague, his demeanor clearly indicating that he was uninterested in the proceedings. He simply wanted to get it over with. Blood Diamond, on the other hoof, played her part dramatically—tears streaming down her face as she recounted how terrified she had been, how close she had come to death. Her performance was convincing, if a bit overdone.
Finally, the guards let them go, having no reason to detain them further. As Bad Apple walked away, leading the trembling Blood Diamond to safety, his mind was already turning over the events of the day. The incident with Short Sprint was unfortunate, but it was also an opportunity—a chance to further exploit the situation to his advantage. His mind worked quickly, calculating the best way to spin this, the best way to ensure that Blood Diamond’s gratitude translated into more bits.
Later that night, Bad Apple sat at his desk, the soft sound of Blood Diamond’s breathing drifting from the bedroom. The corners of his mouth twitched in a faint smile as he shook his head, muttering to himself, “Annoying, but useful. At least she’s good for something.” His eyes drifted over the mountain of paperwork before him, most of it the tedious aftermath of his latest case. He sighed, reaching for another case file—another politician tangled in yet another scandal. It was all so predictable, but predictability had its uses.
As he sorted through his mail, a letter caught his attention. The seal—a familiar family crest—stopped him cold. He paused, staring at it for a long moment before finally opening it. The contents were simple: an invitation to an Apple family reunion. He read the name at the bottom twice, trying to place it. “Apple bloom… Do I know an Applebloom?” The name tugged at a distant memory, a connection to a life he had left behind long ago. Then it clicked, and his smile returned—this time tinged with bitterness. “Ah, my baby sister. It’s been a long time.”
His smile turned cold as memories he had buried deep resurfaced. He placed the letter on the table, but another slipped out, unnoticed at first. Curious, he picked it up and began to read it aloud.
"Dear Bad Apple,
I hope this letter finds ya well. Mah name's Applebloom. I found an old photo album with yer picture in it, and when I asked 'bout ya, everypony pretended not to know who ya are. But I kept lookin' long enough to figure out who ya were, and I saw yer name in the papers. So, I decided to send ya this letter so we can get to know each other.
I know we ain't never met, but I'd love to change that. I hope ya can come to the get-together we're havin' soon.
Sincerely,
The handwriting was crude but earnest, each letter pressed into the paper with the force of somepony who truly cared about what they were writing. Bad Apple sneered at the innocence it conveyed. He could almost hear the naive excitement in Applebloom’s voice, the joy of discovering a long-lost sibling. The laugh that escaped him was dark, full of contempt.
“Oh, the innocence of youth,” he muttered, the smile never reaching his eyes. The Apple family had always been a stubborn lot, clinging to their old ways, working the land when they could have made a fortune by selling it off. But maybe this Applebloom could be different. Maybe she could be convinced to see the world through his eyes—once she realized the power that lay in ambition, in greed.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hooves behind him. Blood Diamond, now awake, sauntered over and wrapped her hooves around his shoulders, leaning in close. “Still working? Why don’t you come back to bed?” she purred, her voice thick with seduction.
Bad Apple smiled, but it was the smile of a predator. He turned to her, his eyes softening in a way he knew she found irresistible. “I’d love to, my dear, but some family business just came up. However, we do have a little more time…” His voice trailed off, suggestive and inviting, a calculated move to keep her wrapped around his hoof just a little longer.
Blood Diamond’s eyes lit up at the attention, but before she could respond, three sharp knocks echoed through the room, sending a chill down Bad Apple’s spine. Blood Diamond frowned, confused. “I thought you said no one knew about this place.”
Bad Apple’s expression darkened, his playful demeanor vanishing as he grabbed a scrunchie from his drawer and tied it around his foreleg—a small, old habit that reminded him of who he really was, beneath the layers of charm and deceit. “I did.”
He moved to the door, peering through the peephole before letting out a frustrated sigh. Unlatching the door, he revealed two Praetorian Guards. They stepped inside, their presence making way for the towering figures of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.
Blood Diamond immediately dropped to her knees, her arrogance evaporating in the presence of royalty. Bad Apple, however, remained standing, his expression a blend of irritation and defiance. “You could have at least waited until I gave you permission to enter,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Celestia’s face remained serene, but Luna’s eyes flashed with barely restrained anger. The guards, seasoned veterans, took their positions—one by the door, the other strategically close to Bad Apple, ready to act if necessary.
Bad Apple’s mind raced, calculating the situation. Was this the day Celestia would finally rid Equestria of him? He doubted it, but the tension in the room was thick enough to cut. As he turned his back on the princesses and walked back to his desk, he knew he was pushing his luck. But that was part of the game, wasn’t it?
“Blood Diamond, you can go,” he said over his shoulder, dismissing her as casually as one would a servant. “We’ll have to reschedule our meeting.” The mare hesitated, her eyes flicking nervously between the princesses and Bad Apple. Luna’s sharp glare was enough to send her running from the room, her earlier confidence shattered.
Bad Apple took his seat, leaning back with a self-satisfied smirk as he folded his hooves. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” he drawled, his voice smooth, almost mocking.
The guard near his desk remained still, his presence a silent reminder of the power imbalance in the room. Yet Bad Apple couldn’t help but feel a perverse satisfaction at the sight of the two most powerful ponies in Equestria standing in his office, forced to negotiate with him.
“Sister, it appears the ponies have grown rather bold in my absence,” Luna remarked, her voice laced with disdain.
Bad Apple’s smirk widened. “A thousand years on the moon would leave anyone out of touch with the way things have evolved.”
Luna’s eyes narrowed, her magic sparking at the edges of her horn, but she maintained her composure. “And yet, some things remain disappointingly unchanged. The penchant for certain ponies to mistake insolence for wit, for instance.”
Celestia, ever the diplomat, stepped forward, her tone even and measured. “Forgive our intrusion at this late hour, but we wished to inquire about the incident outside the courthouse and ensure that our citizens are unharmed.”
Bad Apple’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Do you really expect me to believe that you both traveled all this way just to check on me after a little scuffle with a unicorn?”
Luna’s irritation was palpable, but Celestia remained composed. “No, Bad Apple. We came to ensure that justice is served and to discuss the broader implications of such public incidents.”
Bad Apple chuckled, leaning his chin on his hoof, his gaze flicking between the sisters. “Ah, straight to the point then. I doubt you’re here to offer me a cushy position as a prosecutor or a royal justiciar, are you?”
Celestia’s gaze remained steady, though there was a subtle shift in her expression—just enough to suggest a hint of frustration. “Indeed, straight to the point. While your skills are undeniable, your lack of certain virtues makes such positions unsuitable for you. We are here to request that you do not press charges against Short Sprint.”
Bad Apple’s laughter was cold, devoid of any real humor. “Press charges? I had no intention of doing so. It’s irrelevant. She assaulted my client in broad daylight, in front of the courthouse, with paparazzi and guards watching. Pressing charges would be redundant.”
He paused, letting the moment hang in the air as he watched the princesses carefully. This wasn’t about him; it was about Blood Diamond. The princesses weren’t here to protect him—they were here to protect Short Sprint from Blood Diamond’s wrath. The irony was delicious.
Bad Apple’s smile grew, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “I see now. You’re not trying to convince me not to press charges—you’re trying to convince my client, Blood Diamond.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. “It’s rare when I have something over a princess. Not uncommon, but rare.”
He could see the flicker of recognition in Celestia’s eyes, the unspoken understanding that he held the cards in this game. Luna, however, was less restrained. Her eyes blazed with fury, the temperature in the room dropping as her magic flared in response to her barely contained rage.
Without warning, Luna stepped closer to Bad Apple, her horn igniting with a dark blue light. “You dare mock the crown, insolent wretch?” Her voice was low, dangerous.
Bad Apple didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, every word dripping with venomous intent. “Do you remember the Night Guard, Luna? The loyal ponies who served you without question, who followed you even after you betrayed them and all of Equestria? They stayed loyal like good dogs, even as you became the monster they feared.”
Luna’s magic flared, her fury igniting fully now. She lashed out, a blast of magic aimed directly at him, meant to send him crashing back. But Bad Apple was quicker than she anticipated. He twisted his body at the last second, using the momentum of her strike to roll with the impact, driving his own
hoof into her chest plate as he was knocked into the wall.
The collision was brutal, the sound of metal against stone echoing through the room. Luna staggered back, her chest plate dented where his hoof had struck, and for a moment, she stared at him in shock. No earth pony should have had the strength to damage enchanted armor—yet here he was, standing with a cold smile on his lips, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
Bad Apple spat onto the floor, his defiance blazing in his eyes. “You thought you could intimidate me? You’re just as deluded as ever, Princess.”
Celestia, who had been watching with mounting concern, quickly stepped between them, her presence a calming but firm barrier. “Luna, enough!” she commanded, her voice carrying the weight of centuries of authority.
Luna’s magic receded, but the tension in the room remained thick, almost suffocating. Bad Apple watched as Luna struggled to regain her composure, her breaths coming in shallow, controlled bursts.
Celestia turned to Bad Apple, her expression unreadable. “What is it you want?” she asked, her voice steady but edged with irritation.
Bad Apple leaned back in his chair, feigning contemplation. In truth, he already knew what he wanted. “Ten thousand bits, delivered to my account within the next 24 hours. And I want a favor from the Crown—something I can call in whenever I choose.”
Luna’s eyes burned with fury, but Celestia remained impassive. After a moment, she nodded. “Agreed. But know this, Bad Apple—there are limits to what even you can get away with.”
Bad Apple smiled, a wolfish grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m well aware, Your Highness.”
As the princesses turned to leave, Luna shot him a final, withering glare. The temperature began to rise again as her magic receded, leaving behind an uneasy silence.
Once they were gone, Bad Apple let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He looked down at the letter from Applebloom, his thoughts drifting to the family he’d left behind.
“Yeah,” he muttered to himself. “Getting out of the city for a while should be nice, even if I have to spend it with those hicks.”
He began cleaning up the mess the princesses had made, his mind already working on the next step. As he sorted through the scattered papers, he picked up a quill and began drafting letters—one to Blood Diamond, instructing her to drop any thoughts of pressing charges, and another to his assistant, putting his current cases on hold.
His thoughts drifted back to his encounter with Luna, and a dark chuckle escaped his lips. “Who knew that lunar bitch still had that kind of hit. But at least I got to see Celestia’s heavenly cake. That view was worth a couple of bruises.”
As the chuckle turned into a full, echoing laugh, Bad Apple leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. For now, the game was in his favor, but in Equestria, the rules were always changing. And that was exactly how he liked it.
The grand doors to Canterlot Castle's hall burst open with a thunderous crack, echoing through the empty corridors. Luna stormed in, her mane a turbulent wave of stars and shadow, reflecting her barely contained fury. Her eyes glinted with the sharp intensity of the moon at its zenith, each step she took resonating with the force of her anger. The Praetorian Guards followed her, their expressions unreadable but their tension palpable.
Celestia entered moments later, her calm demeanor masking the concern she felt for her sister. She had seen this side of Luna before—rare, but unmistakable. It was a storm that could shake the foundations of even the most steadfast structures.
“Luna,” Celestia called softly, yet her voice carried the authority of centuries. But Luna continued her march, her fury propelling her down the corridor until she reached one of her private chambers. Without hesitation, she threw the doors open and stormed inside.
Celestia paused at the threshold, turning to the guards with a gentle nod. “Thank you. You may rest now.”
The guards exchanged a brief glance before bowing and retreating down the hallway, their hoofsteps fading into the distance.
Celestia stepped into the chamber and quietly closed the door behind her. The room, usually a haven of peace, now seemed to pulse with the energy of Luna’s wrath. Luna stood in the center, her chest heaving as she struggled to contain her emotions. Her eyes were still blazing, but beneath the anger, there was something else—something deeper.
“Sister,” Luna began, her voice trembling with the force of her feelings, “how could you bring those guards instead of my own? How could you stand there and let him insult us, insult me?”
Celestia approached her slowly, her own expression serious. “Luna, please listen. I chose the Praetorian Guards for a reason. Your Lunar Guards are fiercely loyal—loyal to a fault. If they had been there, they might have acted without thinking, driven by their devotion to you. Bad Apple is dangerous, and any impulsive action could have led to disaster.”
Luna’s gaze dropped to the deep dent in her chestplate, her hoof tracing the damage. “This armor is enchanted, forged to withstand the mightiest of blows. Yet he… he did this. How can a mere earth pony possess such strength? Such audacity?”
Celestia sighed, her voice softening. “It’s not just physical strength, Luna. Bad Apple’s power lies in his cunning, his ability to manipulate the law and turn it to his advantage. He’s part of the Lawyer Guild, a group that serves the law above all else—often twisting it to suit their needs. They are neither good nor evil, but they are a force to be reckoned with.”
Luna looked up, her anger momentarily giving way to confusion. “And we allow this? We let them undermine our authority?”
Celestia nodded slowly. “We do. Because as frustrating as it is, they maintain a certain balance in Canterlot. They ensure that the law is upheld, even when it opposes us. It is a delicate dance, one we must engage in if we are to keep the peace.”
“But I cannot shake this feeling,” Luna continued, her voice quieter now, “that he is more dangerous than we realize.”
Celestia hesitated, her mind flashing back to memories she had long tried to bury. She saw a figure in the darkness, his eyes like burning embers—golden, yet tainted with the poison of betrayal. Those eyes had once looked upon her with warmth, but now they seethed with hatred, with a desire to dominate and destroy everything she held dear.
“There is more to this, Luna,” Celestia admitted, her voice tinged with an unfamiliar weariness. “Bad Apple is not the true threat. He is but a pawn in a greater game. There is someone—something—behind him. A force I have sensed but cannot fully grasp.”
Luna’s eyes widened, her anger cooling as concern took its place. “Who? Who could command such power?”
Celestia looked away, her expression troubled. “I cannot say, not yet. The truth… it could endanger us both if revealed too soon. I need you to trust me, Luna. Trust that I will tell you when the time is right.”
Luna was silent for a long moment, her mind racing with possibilities. But finally, she nodded, though her expression remained grim. “I trust you, sister. But this is not easy. Short Sprint’s family has been loyal to me for centuries, even through my banishment. To see them suffer so unjustly—”
“It pains me as well,” Celestia interrupted gently, stepping closer to place a wing around Luna. “But we must be careful. Bad Apple is a master of his craft, and if we move too hastily, we could play directly into his hooves. Justice must be served, but it must be done wisely.”
Luna took a deep breath, the tension in her muscles slowly easing. “I understand, Celestia. But the injustice of it burns. I cannot forget what Blood Diamond has done.”
“And you won’t have to,” Celestia replied, her voice steady. “But we must be patient. We will watch Bad Apple closely, and when the time comes, we will act. Together.”
Luna’s resolve hardened, her anger replaced by a steely determination. “Yes. We will act, sister. And we will be ready.”
Celestia offered a soft, comforting smile as the weight of the moment began to lift. She moved toward the balcony, where the first light of dawn was beginning to break. “Come, Luna. Let us raise the sun and greet a new day.”
Luna joined her sister, the cool morning air calming the last remnants of her anger. As Celestia’s horn glowed with golden light, Luna watched the sun rise, feeling its warmth chase away the shadows that had lingered in her heart.
“We are stronger together,” Celestia said softly as the sun’s rays spread across the land. “No darkness can prevail as long as we stand united.”
Luna nodded, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Yes, sister. Together, we will protect Equestria. And together, we will ensure that justice is served.”
As the sun climbed higher into the sky, the two sisters stood side by side, ready to face whatever challenges the new day would bring. And in that moment, as the light of dawn bathed the land, Luna knew that no matter how dark the night might become, she and Celestia would always find a way to bring the dawn.
The sun had fully risen over Canterlot, casting long, warm rays across the land. The golden spires of the city gleamed in the morning light, a beacon of Equestria’s supposed purity and grandeur. But Bad Apple saw the city for what it truly was: a glittering stage where everypony played their part in an elaborate game of power, posturing, and deceit. The false compliments, the carefully crafted façades, the endless jockeying for position—he loved every moment of it. Canterlot was a place where those with ambition could rise, and where the weak were left to flounder. It was a city that rewarded those willing to play the game, and Bad Apple was one of the best.
In the bustling Canterlot train station, Bad Apple stood on the platform of the Canterlot Express, waiting for his train to Ponyville. The station was alive with the sounds of ponies going about their morning routines, but Bad Apple paid little attention to the noise around him. His mind was elsewhere, turning over the events of the past few days and contemplating his future plans.
He was dressed sharply as always, his black suit immaculate, the crimson tie a stark contrast against his dark coat. To the casual observer, he appeared calm, collected—perhaps even content. But beneath that polished exterior, his thoughts were as sharp as ever, always seeking the next opportunity, the next move in the endless game he played.
The recent encounters with Princesses Celestia and Luna had been calculated risks. He had tested their limits, pushed the boundaries of their patience, and he had emerged unscathed. Physically, at least. The bruises would fade, and the advantages he had gained far outweighed them. Emotional scars? He cared nothing for those. Emotions were merely tools to be manipulated, whether in himself or others.
As he stood there, waiting for the train, Bad Apple reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a worn scrunchie. The scrunchie had long since lost its original color, now stained with a dark blotch of blood. His expression hardened as he looked at the stain, a mixture of irritation and something deeper flickering in his eyes. The scrunchie had belonged to his mother, Pear Butter—a relic of a past he rarely allowed himself to dwell on.
But today, the memories surfaced unbidden, like ghosts from the shadows of his mind.
He saw flashes of that dark, damp cave—a place that had once been the site of an unimaginable fortune. He remembered standing in the middle of it as a young colt, the air thick with fear and tension. His parents, Pear Butter and Bright Mac, were there, their faces twisted in anguish as chains were fastened around their necks. The clinking of metal echoed in his mind, the sound of their hooves scraping against the rocky ground as they were dragged away.
Bad Apple had told them not to follow him, to stay back and let him handle it. But they hadn’t listened. In the dim light of the cave, a small bag of jewels lay forgotten on the floor, the gems glistening faintly. Those jewels had been the cause of it all—the lure that had led to betrayal and captivity. Young Bad Apple had stood frozen, his heart pounding as he watched his parents disappear into the shadows. Then, like a whisper in his ear, the jewels called out to him. They promised power, wealth—everything he had ever desired, and things he hadn’t even known he wanted. The greed within him surged, an insatiable hunger that demanded to be fed.
He remembered how, after the echoes of his parents’ struggles had faded, he had darted forward and grabbed the bag of jewels. The weight of it had felt strange in his small hooves, both exhilarating and terrifying. The jewels were cold, their sharp edges digging into his skin, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was the promise they held—the power they would bring him. He had run from that cave, clutching the jewels to his chest, the memory of his parents being dragged away fueling his ambitions. Wealth, power—those were what mattered now.
The whistle of the approaching train pulled Bad Apple from his reverie. He shook his head slightly, as if to clear away the memories, and slipped the scrunchie back into his saddlebag. There was no time for nostalgia. The future awaited, and it was one he intended to shape with his own hooves, just as he had always done.
The Canterlot Express came to a halt before him, its doors sliding open with a hiss. Bad Apple adjusted his suit, his expression hardening once more into the calculating mask he wore so well. As he stepped onto the train, he glanced back at the station, at the city of Canterlot bathed in morning light.
To most, Canterlot was a shining beacon of hope, a city of light and harmony. But to Bad Apple, it was a city of masks, where power was traded in whispers and smiles, where every interaction was a move in a larger, more dangerous game. He thrived in it, loved the manipulation, the posturing, the false compliments that hid daggers behind every smile. Canterlot was a city where the strong rose to the top, and where the weak were left behind, and he had every intention of staying on top.
His thoughts turned once more to his future plans—how to leverage his recent encounters, how to manipulate the pieces on the chessboard to his advantage. The game was far from over, and he was determined to win, no matter the cost.
As the train began to move, carrying him away from the city and toward the rural outskirts where Sweet Apple Acres awaited, the memory of that cave lingered in the back of his mind. The sound of chains, the glint of jewels, the look in his parents’ eyes—these were the things that had shaped him, for better or worse.
Bad Apple stared out the window as the cityscape gave way to rolling hills and orchards. His hooves rested on the bag that held the scrunchie, his thoughts a tumultuous mix of greed, ambition, and a sadness he could never quite shake.
For now, the future was his to mold, but the past had a way of leaving its mark, no matter how much wealth or power he accumulated. And as the train sped toward its destination, Bad Apple couldn’t help but wonder if there would ever come a day when the jewels would no longer glisten quite so brightly, and when the echoes of that cave would finally fade into silence.
Reaching into his saddlebag once more, Bad Apple pulled out a small set of headphones. He placed them over his ears, the familiar strains of "Left Behind" beginning to play. The haunting melody filled his mind as he leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. The game was far from over, and the pieces were still moving. But for now, he allowed himself a moment of reflection—just a moment—before the train carried him into whatever lay ahead.
And as the song played, Bad Apple couldn’t help but smirk. In the end, everyone was left behind—except for those smart enough to keep moving forward.
Chapter 2: Homecoming with a Price
Chapter 2: Homecoming with a Price
Bad Apple slouched in his seat aboard the Friendship Express, his eyes half-lidded as he absently watched the countryside blur by outside the window. The steady clatter of the train provided a rhythm that meshed with the music thumping in his ears, a welcome distraction from the obnoxiously cheery atmosphere around him. Even with his headphones on, he couldn’t completely ignore the pastel walls, the overly enthusiastic decor, and the saccharine name—Friendship Express.
It was almost laughable. Everywhere he turned, Equestria seemed determined to shove the idea of harmony and friendship down everypony’s throat, as if chanting the words enough times would make them real. Bad Apple’s lips curled into a sneer. Friendship, he thought, was nothing more than a marketing gimmick, a pretty lie for a nation too naive to see its own fragility.
He adjusted the volume on his headphones, trying to let the pounding bass drown out the cloying positivity that permeated the train car. For a moment, he succeeded, the music pulsing through his veins and blocking out the world.
But his brief respite was shattered when a flicker of movement caught his eye. Across the aisle, an older stallion had unfolded a newspaper, the front page headline boldly proclaiming:
Bad Apple’s mood darkened instantly. He tugged his headphones down around his neck, his irritation flaring. Elements of Harmony, he thought with a bitter chuckle. The idea that Equestria’s security rested on the friendship of six naive mares was beyond ridiculous. Leaning forward slightly, he muttered under his breath, voice dripping with sarcasm, “Yeah, because that’s a stable foundation for national security—let’s just hope they don’t argue over who gets the last slice of cake.”
Bad Apple leaned back in his seat, his sneer deepening as the image of the six mares on the newspaper continued to taunt him. Six mares and their magical bond, he thought with a mixture of contempt and disbelief. Equestria’s so-called protectors, relying on the flimsiest of alliances.
The notion that an entire kingdom would stake its future on the friendship of six ponies was beyond absurd to him. One minor disagreement, one moment of doubt, and the entire delicate structure could come crashing down, leaving Equestria defenseless. It was a joke—a dangerous, reckless joke that the entire nation seemed all too willing to believe in.
He stared at the newspaper, the headline and the smiling faces mocking him with their naive optimism. How could anypony take this seriously? These six mares, who had somehow been elevated to the status of heroes, were just as flawed and fallible as anypony else. But the kingdom had chosen to ignore that reality, instead building them up as the cornerstone of its security.
Bad Apple shook his head, his disdain palpable. This is what passes for security these days? he thought bitterly. A kingdom putting its trust in something as fragile as a friendship was not a kingdom prepared for the real world. And when—*not if,* but when—that trust shattered, Equestria would be left in ruins, clinging to the remnants of its broken ideals.
Bad Apple’s thoughts drifted from the newspaper to the larger issue at hand: Equestria’s leadership, or rather, the slow unraveling of it. And then there’s Celestia, he thought with a scowl. The ancient alicorn, revered by so many, seemed less like the infallible ruler ponies worshipped and more like a god who had grown bored with her own creation. What else could explain it? After centuries of unchallenged power, perhaps Celestia was no longer the careful, wise leader she pretended to be. Maybe she was simply toying with her subjects for her own amusement, throwing caution to the wind just to see what chaos might unfold.
In his mind, Bad Apple envisioned Celestia not as the serene goddess of the sun, but as a demented old mare trapped in a forever youthful body, her mind fraying under the weight of endless centuries. Or perhaps, he mused with a dark chuckle, she’s like a god who’s grown tired of her toys, pushing the boundaries just to stave off the boredom. The idea was grimly amusing: an all-powerful being, so detached from reality, indulging in whims that could reshape the kingdom, simply because she could.
And what better example of this than her decision to bring back her long-banished sister, Luna? If Celestia was a god dabbling in chaos, then Luna was her reckless, untested counterpart—a leader frozen in time, still clinging to outdated ideas. The so-called Princess of the Night had returned with all the grace of a storm, intent on imposing her archaic vision on a world that had moved on without her.
Luna’s return had thrown Canterlot into disarray. The moment she had set hoof in the capital, she began tearing down old laws, introducing reforms that sent shockwaves through the social hierarchy. One of her most controversial moves was the integration of bat ponies into mainstream Equestrian society—ponies who had been ostracized and isolated for centuries.
The deep-seated racism in Canterlot’s elite, and even among ordinary Equestrians, was laid bare as Luna’s efforts met with fierce resistance. The bat ponies, with their dark coats, leathery wings, and nocturnal habits, were seen as outsiders, different in every way from the rest of ponykind. Luna’s insistence on their inclusion was seen as a direct threat to the established order, an affront to the deep-rooted prejudices that had been allowed to fester over centuries of separation.
The nobles—those self-assured ponies who had long believed their positions unassailable—found themselves scrambling to maintain their grip on power. Their private salons and dinner parties became breeding grounds for whispered dissent, their thinly veiled racism bubbling to the surface as they railed against the “invasion” of their society by these so-called creatures of the night. They had come to Bad Apple in droves, paying exorbitant fees for reassurances that their way of life wouldn’t be destroyed, even as Luna bulldozed through their resistance with her old-world determination.
Granny Smith would’ve found the whole thing hilarious, he thought with a dark grin. The old mare, with her blunt humor and sharp wit, would have had a field day watching the nobles grovel. *That old mare’s been around so long, she probably remembers when Star Swirl was just a young stallion, he mused, the joke bringing a fleeting moment of amusement.
But as amusing as it was to see the nobles scramble, Bad Apple knew that Luna’s recklessness was more than just a source of chaos—it was a sign of the old ways clashing violently with the new. Equestria was teetering on the edge, and the once unshakeable power structure was cracking under the weight of these new pressures.
Bad Apple’s sneer deepened as the train rattled along the tracks, his thoughts drifting from the broader issues plaguing Equestria to the more personal matters awaiting him in Ponyville. The small town was just ahead, along with the family he had left behind years ago.
Granny Smith, he thought, his lips curling in disdain. The old mare had outlived her usefulness long ago, yet she clung to life and the outdated traditions of the Apple family. She was stubborn, resistant to change, likely spending her years barking orders and keeping Sweet Apple Acres running through sheer force of will. But to Bad Apple, she was just another relic of a bygone era, standing in the way of progress.
Then there was Applejack, the so-called Element of Honesty. She had somehow become one of Equestria’s most celebrated heroes, and the thought made him want to laugh out loud. Applejack’s unwavering belief in honesty and hard work made her predictable, easy to manipulate if you knew which buttons to push. To Bad Apple, she was too naive, too trusting—a weakness he could exploit if he played his cards right.
And Big Mac—the silent giant of the family. Strong, dependable, and frustratingly stoic. But in Bad Apple’s eyes, that made him nothing more than a pawn, easily swayed by the will of the family. Sure, Big Mac might be a bit more cautious than the others, but he’d always follow the family’s lead, no matter what. That made him a perfect target. If Bad Apple could gain the trust of the Apple family, Big Mac would fall in line without question.
They’re all too wrapped up in their bonds, in their precious family values, he mused, his mind already calculating the best ways to exploit those very bonds. They think that makes them strong, but it only makes them predictable. Predictable enough for me to outsmart them.
Bad Apple leaned back in his seat, the steady rhythm of the train serving as a backdrop to his thoughts. This wasn’t just a trip down memory lane—it was an opportunity. If he could play the part of the long-lost relative, use their sentimentality against them, he could position himself exactly where he wanted to be. The Apple family’s unwavering trust in one another would be their downfall.
He let out a small, almost imperceptible chuckle, amused by the thought. They’ll never see it coming, he thought. They’re too blinded by their own ideals to realize when they’re being played. The pieces were already moving on the board, and Bad Apple was confident he could outmaneuver anyone who stood in his way—even his own kin.
Just as he was getting comfortable in his own scheming, his thoughts were interrupted by a soft, hesitant voice from the aisle.
Bad Apple’s thoughts were interrupted by a soft, refined voice from the aisle. With mild annoyance, he turned his head slightly, his gaze settling on a mare standing beside his seat. She was well into the start of her golden years, perhaps in her late fifties, but still carried herself with the grace and poise of somepony who had once been accustomed to the finer things in life. Her pale lavender coat was well-groomed, and her mane, a silver-streaked blonde, was elegantly styled, hinting at a time when she had likely been the belle of many a ball. Her eyes, a striking shade of blue, still held a spark of dignity and warmth, though tempered by the weariness of experience.
Beside her stood a young colt, perhaps just past the age of earning his Cutie Mark. He was a lively little thing, his coat a light chestnut brown, and his mane a tousled mix of dark curls. His wide, green eyes were filled with wonder as he looked up at Bad Apple, then back to the window, clearly eager to take in the passing scenery.
“Excuse me, sir,” the mare began, her tone polite yet firm, the kind of voice that spoke of a lifetime of giving orders that were seldom questioned. “Would you mind if we took your seat? My grandson here really wants to look out the window.”
Bad Apple arched an eyebrow, his lips curling into a slow, calculating smile. He took a moment to study her—her well-maintained appearance, the subtle signs of wealth and status in the fine stitching of her saddlebag and the delicate brooch pinned to her scarf. A noble, or at least one with noble ties, he thought, his mind already weighing the potential profit of the situation.
Then, with a voice dripping with false kindness, he leaned forward slightly, as if to offer some kind of concession. “I’d be happy to give up my seat,” he said smoothly, the corners of his mouth curling into a grin, “for 100 bits.”
The mare’s poised demeanor faltered, replaced by a look of shock and disbelief. Her refined features tensed slightly as she glanced down at her grandson, who remained blissfully unaware of the tension, his gaze locked on the window. She hesitated, her composure slipping just enough for Bad Apple to notice. Her hand moved toward her saddlebag, a finely crafted piece of leather that hinted at her wealth, but it was clear she wasn’t accustomed to being asked to pay for simple courtesies.
Bad Apple watched her with a smirk, enjoying the power he held in that moment. Even the nobles have their limits, he thought with satisfaction. And some are just easier to squeeze than others.
Before the mare could retrieve the bits from her finely crafted saddlebag, a voice cut through the air, clear and unmistakable. “Ma’am, you and your grandson can take my seat, free of charge.”
Bad Apple’s smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he recognized the voice. Of course, he thought, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. It had to be her.
Twilight Sparkle, the ever-vigilant do-gooder, stood in the aisle with her characteristic blend of warmth and firmness. She offered the mare a gentle smile, her purple eyes radiating the kind of earnestness that made Bad Apple’s stomach churn.
The noble mare looked up at Twilight with obvious relief, the tension in her shoulders easing. “Thank you, Miss…?”
“Twilight Sparkle,” the purple mare replied with modesty, as if her name wasn’t already known across Equestria. “Please, it’s no trouble at all.”
Bad Apple turned his gaze back to the window, clenching his jaw. Celestia’s little protégé, he thought with a scowl. Always has to swoop in and play the hero, doesn’t she?* He had no patience for Twilight’s incessant need to be the savior, to smooth over every rough edge with her naive belief in friendship and harmony. The whole act was exhausting, and worse, it interfered with his plans.
But Twilight, predictably, wasn’t finished with him. After ensuring the noble mare and her grandson had settled into her seat, Twilight took the one directly across from Bad Apple, her expression shifting from kind to stern. “Really, Bad Apple? Charging an elderly mare for your seat? That’s low, even for you.”
He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat with a dismissive wave. “Can we skip the lecture, Sparkle? I’ve heard it all before. You’ll yammer on about the ‘power of friendship,’ I’ll pretend to care, and then you’ll trot off feeling like you’ve saved the day.”
Twilight’s frown deepened, her eyes narrowing in disapproval. “You could be so much more than this, Bad Apple. But instead, you choose to wallow in your own selfishness.”
Bad Apple let out a hearty laugh, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Better to wallow in reality than to stick my nose so far up Celestia’s flanks that everything starts smelling like daisies.”
Twilight’s expression hardened, but she held her ground. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? But all this deceit, all this selfishness—it’s going to leave you with nothing in the end. No friends, no family, just you and your bits.”
Bad Apple’s laughter echoed in the small train car, his grin widening at Twilight’s words. “Sounds peaceful, actually,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “No clingy friends, no annoying family, just me and my well-earned bits.”
Twilight’s irritation was clear, but she kept her voice steady. “At least I’m not hiding behind a glamour, pretending to be something I’m not. How long can you keep up the charade, Bad Apple? Doesn’t it ever get exhausting, fooling everypony around you?”
Bad Apple’s grin tightened, sharp as a blade. “At least I’m not fooling myself, Sparkle. I know exactly who I am. Can you say the same?”
Twilight’s eyes flashed with anger, but she quickly regained control, her voice firm. “You’re the one living a lie, Bad Apple. You think you’re in control, but all you’re doing is running from yourself.”
Bad Apple chuckled, the sound dark and hollow. “Running? Nah, Sparkle. I’m chasing bits. And let me tell you, it’s a lot more fun than playing pretend with a bunch of naive ponies.”
Twilight’s gaze softened, a hint of sadness entering her eyes. “You’re wrong, Bad Apple. Friendship isn’t a fantasy. It’s what gives life meaning. But I guess that’s something you’ll never understand.”
He leaned back in his seat, casually draping one hoof over the backrest, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. “You’re right, I probably won’t. But I’m fine with that. Now, how about we call a truce? You go back to saving the world, and I’ll go back to making my bits.”
Twilight frowned, clearly unsatisfied but recognizing that the conversation was going nowhere. She nodded reluctantly. “Fine. A truce, for now.”
Bad Apple was about to slip his headphones back on when she spoke again, her voice tinged with curiosity. “So, what brings you to Ponyville?”
He sighed, clearly exasperated. “I guess I forgot to ask for silence in our peace treaty,” he muttered. Twilight gave him a pointed look, and he relented with a smirk. “Alright, alright. Family reunion. Thought I’d drop by, see if the old place is still standing.”
Twilight blinked, surprise flickering across her face. “Family reunion? But the only reunion happening in Ponyville right now is… the Apple family reunion.” Her eyes widened as the realization hit her. “Wait, you’re—”
Bad Apple leaned in, his smirk turning wicked. “Surprised, Sparkle? Or did you finally put two and two together?”
Twilight stared at him, her mind racing. “But… Applejack never mentioned having another brother… especially not one like you.”
Bad Apple let out a short, bitter laugh. “I’m not surprised they never mentioned me. After all, who likes to talk about the rotten apple in the bunch?” He leaned back, his smirk growing more arrogant. “Applejack and Big Mac might be the golden foals of the family, but every orchard has its share of bad fruit.”
Twilight’s brows furrowed as she tried to process this new information. “But… I just don’t understand. You and Applejack… you’re so different. How did things get this way?”
Bad Apple’s expression turned cold, a hint of something darker flashing in his eyes. “That’s the thing about families, Sparkle. They’re not always what they seem. But that’s a story for another time.”
Twilight hesitated, a mix of concern and curiosity swirling in her gaze. “Whatever you’re planning, Bad Apple, just… remember they’re your family.”
Bad Apple didn’t respond immediately, his smirk fading slightly as he looked back out the window. The passing landscape blurred by, but his thoughts were sharp and clear. Family, he thought, the word leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He knew better than to be swayed by sentimentalities, but he also knew how to use them to his advantage. If his family was as predictable as he suspected, then gaining their trust would be a simple matter of playing the part they wanted him to play.
Finally, he looked back at Twilight, his expression unreadable. “I’m here for a family reunion, Sparkle. That’s all.” He slipped his headphones back on, effectively ending the conversation.
The intercom crackled to life, snapping Bad Apple from his thoughts. “We will be arriving in Ponyville in approximately twenty minutes,” the conductor’s voice announced.
Bad Apple glanced out the window, the brief moment of civility between him and Twilight clearly over. He had already shifted back to his usual, guarded self, the conversation with Twilight now behind him.
Twilight turned her attention to the approaching town, finding some comfort in the familiar sight of Ponyville. The train pressed on, drawing them closer to their destination and whatever awaited them there.
The train came to a smooth halt at Ponyville Station, the familiar hiss of steam filling the air as the doors slid open. Bad Apple and Twilight stepped off the train, greeted by the warmth of the late morning sun. The light was bright, almost annoyingly cheerful, as it bathed the station in a golden hue.
Bad Apple took a moment to glance around, his sharp eyes taking in the town that he had once called home. The scent of fresh apples wafted through the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the dirt roads. Some things were just as he remembered—the rustic charm, the ever-present smiles of the ponies going about their day—but other things had changed. New buildings had sprung up, and there were more ponies milling about than he recalled. Yet, the core of Ponyville remained the same: quaint, welcoming, and, in his opinion, naïve.
Twilight, already turning to head toward town, paused when she noticed Bad Apple lingering behind. He seemed to be drinking in the sight, but with an expression that was hard to read—half detachment, half something else she couldn’t quite place. She hesitated, sensing the tension beneath his calm exterior, then asked, “Are you staying somewhere in particular?”
Bad Apple shifted his gaze to her, his expression still unreadable as he took in the changes around him. “Haven’t decided yet,” he replied, his voice smooth but distant. “Got any suggestions?”
Twilight nodded, trying to push past the unease that his guarded demeanor sparked in her. “The Golden Horseshoe Hotel is the nicest place in town. It’s on the main street, just a short walk from here. It’s comfortable, and I’m sure you’ll find it… adequate.”
Bad Apple gave a slight nod, his eyes flicking down the street where the hotel was located. “Adequate, huh? Sounds about right.” He smirked, as if the word amused him for reasons she couldn’t understand.
As they stepped off the platform, Twilight began to turn toward town, but Bad Apple lingered for a moment longer, his gaze sweeping over the town with a blend of nostalgia and disdain. He let out a small, calculated sigh, just enough for Twilight to notice.
“Are you staying somewhere in particular?” Twilight asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and concern.
Bad Apple shrugged, letting a touch of vulnerability slip into his usually guarded expression. “Haven’t decided yet,” he said, almost absentmindedly. “It’s been a while since I’ve been back. Hard to believe it’s changed so much… and so little.”
Twilight, sensing the tension beneath his words, offered a reassuring smile. “Ponyville’s grown a bit, but it’s still the same at its core.”
Bad Apple gave a slow nod, his eyes narrowing slightly as they settled on the street ahead. “The Golden Horseshoe Hotel, you said? Might be worth checking out… but,” he hesitated, his tone shifting to something almost conspiratorial, “how about you show me around first? Help me get reacquainted with this charming little hamlet. I’ve been away so long, I might get lost in all the excitement.”
Twilight blinked at the unexpected request. “You want me to show you around?”
Bad Apple offered a small, disarming smile, the kind that hinted at shared secrets. “Why not? It’s not every day I get a personal tour from somepony who knows this place as well as you do. Besides,” his eyes took on a calculating gleam, “I might have a few questions before I head over to Sweet Apple Acres. Could use a bit of insider knowledge to make the reunion less… eventful.”
Twilight hesitated, her concern deepening, but the idea of easing any potential tension between Bad Apple and his family made her agree. “Alright,” she said, though with some reluctance. “I’ll walk with you.”
With that, they set off through Ponyville. The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting long shadows as the town bustled with activity. To any outsider, it would seem like an idyllic, peaceful place, but to Bad Apple, it was just another quaint stage for the drama he was about to set in motion.
As they walked, Twilight pointed out various landmarks, her voice bright with a mix of pride and nostalgia. “This is Carousel Boutique,” she said, gesturing toward a pristine, elegant building. “It’s owned by Rarity, one of my friends. She’s a talented designer and makes some of the finest dresses in Equestria.”
Bad Apple gave the boutique a long, critical look. “Ah, the old dressmaker’s shop,” he mused, his tone dripping with mock surprise. “Only in a place like Ponyville could a building that pretentious actually get away with calling itself a ‘boutique.’ I suppose ‘fancy dress shack’ doesn’t have the same ring to it. Must be exhausting, though, trying to convince ponies in this backwater that they need something ‘fabulous’ just to trot down the dirt road to the market.”
Twilight frowned at the comment but chose not to engage, instead continuing to walk. Soon, they arrived at Sugarcube Corner, its candy-colored exterior standing out against the more muted tones of the other buildings.
“This is Sugarcube Corner,” Twilight explained, her tone slightly more guarded now. “It’s where Pinkie Pie works, along with the Cakes. They make some of the best pastries in Ponyville.”
Bad Apple paused, arching an eyebrow as he studied the building. “Sugarcube Corner, huh? Used to be the place where everypony’s business was aired out with the morning coffee. I suppose not much has changed, except the decor is even louder than I remember.” He glanced at Twilight, a smirk playing on his lips. “And the Cakes are still in business? Well, I’ll be. Back in the day, I’d have bet good money that Cup Cake would’ve eloped with half the town before sticking it out with old Carrot. Guess she got tired of being so… promiscuous. Who would’ve thought, huh?”
Twilight’s irritation deepened, but she chose to stay focused on the task at hand. “They’re a happy family now, and their business is one of the most beloved in town.”
Bad Apple nodded slowly, though his tone suggested more curiosity than admiration. “Good for them,” he said lightly, as if the notion of a happy family was more a curiosity than a reality to him.
As they continued their walk, Bad Apple didn’t hold back his sardonic commentary. Passing by the local schoolhouse, he scoffed. “Still the same one-room schoolhouse? I see the curriculum’s probably still focused on such essentials as ‘How to Buck an Apple’ and ‘Basic Wagon Repair.’ You’d think with all the changes, they’d at least try to push education past the frontier days.”
Twilight sighed but didn’t respond, though her patience was visibly wearing thin. She was now more eager than ever to get him to Sweet Apple Acres and be done with this uncomfortable walk.
Next, they walked by the town’s small marketplace, bustling with vendors selling fresh produce and homemade goods. Bad Apple glanced at the stands and shook his head. “Same old faces, same old stalls. It’s like stepping back in time, only with fewer teeth. I guess innovation’s not exactly a priority when you’ve got tradition to cling to. Must be comforting, living in a place where change comes slower than Granny Smith on cider.”
Twilight’s patience was now almost completely frayed, but she kept walking, her pace quickening slightly as Sweet Apple Acres came into view in the distance.
As they continued their walk through Ponyville, the atmosphere grew quieter. The bustling marketplace and lively town square gradually gave way to the outskirts of town, where the hustle and bustle of daily life softened into the peaceful, open fields that stretched toward Sweet Apple Acres.
The familiar sights of his old home began to take shape in the distance—endless rows of apple trees, their branches heavy with ripe fruit, and the iconic red barn that stood proudly amidst the orchards. Bad Apple’s pace slowed slightly, his eyes narrowing as he took in the unchanged landscape. It was all so familiar, yet so distant, like a memory that had long since lost its warmth.
Twilight noticed his hesitation and glanced over at him, her curiosity piqued. “It must feel strange, coming back after all this time,” she ventured carefully, trying to gauge his mood.
Bad Apple smirked, though there was a hardness behind it. “Strange? Not really. It’s more like walking into a picture you’ve seen a thousand times. Everything’s where it’s supposed to be, just… frozen.”
Twilight nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure she understood what he meant. “Well, some things never change. Sweet Apple Acres has always been the heart of Ponyville. The Apples are practically the town’s foundation.”
Bad Apple’s smirk faded into a more thoughtful expression as he looked toward the farmhouse in the distance. “Foundation, huh? Funny. I always saw it more like a weight around the town’s neck. Something that keeps Ponyville stuck in the past, clinging to old traditions while the rest of the world moves on.”
Twilight frowned slightly, her defenses rising again. “I don’t think that’s fair. Tradition can be a good thing—it’s what gives a place like Ponyville its character, its sense of community.”
“Sure,” Bad Apple replied, his tone laced with sarcasm. “But it’s also what keeps it from evolving. You keep doing the same things over and over because that’s how it’s always been done, and before you know it, the world’s passed you by. But I suppose that’s comforting for some ponies. They don’t have to think, don’t have to change. They just keep plodding along, like old Granny Smith.”
Twilight couldn’t help but bristle at the jab toward Granny Smith, but she chose to let it slide. Instead, she tried to steer the conversation toward something less contentious. “So, do you have any fond memories of the farm?”
Bad Apple glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “Fond memories?” He let the question hang in the air for a moment before shrugging. “Depends on what you mean by ‘fond.’ I remember working those orchards with Big Mac until our hooves were sore, listening to Granny Smith’s endless stories about the good old days. The old treehouse is probably still tucked away back there somewhere, unless it finally gave up and collapsed.”
Twilight’s curiosity deepened as she listened. “Applejack mentioned a treehouse before, but I didn’t realize it was that old.”
Bad Apple allowed himself a small, genuine smile. “Yeah, it’s seen better days. We used to call it the ‘Apple Clubhouse’—though it was more of a splinter collection than a clubhouse. Still, it was our little corner of the world.”
As they neared the farmhouse, the signs of preparation for the reunion became more apparent. Banners were being hung up, tables were being set out, and the area was neatly organized in anticipation of the event, but no ponies were around yet. The whole place had the calm before the storm, a kind of pregnant silence that hung in the air, waiting to be filled with laughter, chatter, and the noise of family.
“Looks like they’re pulling out all the stops,” Bad Apple commented, nodding toward the preparations around the farm. “Typical Apple family. Never do anything halfway.”
Twilight smiled, feeling a warmth in her heart at the sight of the setup. “They really go all out for these reunions, don’t they?”
“Always have,” Bad Apple replied, his tone more neutral now. “It’s all about tradition with them. Keeping things the way they’ve always been.”
As they approached the farmhouse, Bad Apple slowed his pace further, almost as if he were stalling for time. He pointed out a few more familiar spots—the barn where they stored the cider barrels, the old well that had been there since before he was born. Twilight noticed his subtle delay but said nothing, allowing him to take his time.
Finally, they reached the front door of the farmhouse. Bad Apple turned to Twilight, his expression inscrutable. “Well, I guess this is it,” he said, though he made no move to knock just yet.
Twilight stood beside him, her earlier annoyance replaced by a mix of curiosity and concern. “Are you ready?” she asked gently.
Bad Apple gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
With that, he raised a hoof and knocked on the door, the sound echoing through the farmhouse. Twilight stayed by his side, her presence a quiet reassurance, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more going on beneath his calm exterior than he let on.
Bad Apple finally turned his gaze to Twilight, his expression unreadable. “Family,” he mused, almost tasting the word. “That’s the thing about family, Twilight. They always have expectations, always think they know who you are—or who you should be. And when you don’t fit into that neat little box they’ve made for you, well… things get interesting.”
Twilight’s brow furrowed with concern. “But isn’t that what makes family important? That they’re there for you, no matter what?”
Bad Apple chuckled, a dark sound that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s the pretty version they put in storybooks. But in reality? Family can be just another obligation, another set of rules you didn’t agree to but are expected to follow.”
Before Twilight could respond to Bad Apple’s chilling remark, the door creaked open, cutting through the tension like a knife. The heavy wooden door swung wide, revealing Big Mac’s imposing figure in the doorway. His usually calm and composed eyes were dark, filled with an intensity that sent a clear message.
Bad Apple barely had time to register the look on his brother’s face before Big Mac’s powerful hind legs shot out, delivering a buck with a force that sent Bad Apple flying through the air. The impact was sudden, brutal, and definitive.
Twilight gasped, her heart leaping into her throat as she watched Bad Apple crash through a section of the barn. The wooden wall splintered under the force, debris scattering as Bad Apple disappeared into the wreckage.
Dust settled slowly, the silence that followed almost deafening. For a moment, there was no movement, no sound, save for the faint groan that finally escaped from the ruins of the barn.
A moment later, the barn doors were kicked open from the inside, clattering to the ground with a resounding thud. Bad Apple emerged from the wreckage, brushing off the splinters and dust clinging to his suit. Despite the obvious irritation on his face, there was a playful glint in his eye. He looked up at Big Mac with a smirk. “Well, well, little brother, looks like you finally learned how to do a proper buck.”
Big Mac didn’t respond immediately. His usual calm demeanor was replaced with a steely intensity, his muscles visibly tensed as he glared at Bad Apple. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and firm, carrying an edge that left no room for argument. “Leave. You ain't welcome here.”
Bad Apple’s smirk widened, the challenge in Big Mac’s tone only fueling his defiance. “This is my home too, Big Mac. I’ve got every right to be here, and if you want me gone, you’re gonna have to force the issue.”
Big Mac’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. The tension between the two brothers grew thicker by the second, as if the very air around them was holding its breath.
Bad Apple took a step closer to Big Mac, his tone dripping with mockery. “Oh, I see how it is. Just because you’ve finally got some meat on those bones, you think you’re big enough to take me down? You’re feeling like a real stallion now, huh? Ready to step up and try your luck against your older brother?”
Big Mac didn’t flinch, but his stance grew more rigid, his eyes burning with anger. The tension between the two brothers was as thick as the humidity in the summer air, their hooves grinding into the dirt as they squared off.
Twilight, standing off to the side, watched the situation spiral out of control with growing concern. She had never seen Big Mac so close to losing his temper, and Bad Apple’s taunting was pushing him right to the edge.
Bad Apple’s sneer widened as he took in his brother’s anger. “So this is the warm welcome I get after all these years? What happened to that famous Apple family hospitality? Did it rot away while I was gone?”
Big Mac’s voice was low and harsh, each word laced with barely contained rage. “You walked out on this family a long time ago, monster. Don’t you dare come back here and talk about family.”
Bad Apple’s eyes flashed with irritation, though he quickly buried it under a smirk. “Watch your mouth, Little Mac. You don’t know a damn thing about what really happened. And by Apple family tradition, I’m still the oldest, which makes me the head of this family. Just because you, Applejack, and that old hag Granny Smith found a loophole doesn’t mean I don’t have a claim to this land. Or did you forget how we Apples used to settle things before we got all ‘civilized’?”
Big Mac slammed his hoof into the ground with a force that sent a tremor through the earth, his muscles tensing as if ready to explode. “You want to go back to the old ways? Fine. Make my day.”
Bad Apple grinned wickedly, his eyes alight with the thrill of the challenge. “Oh, so you think you’ve grown a pair now? Think you can take on the big bad brother? Let’s see what you’ve got, Little Mac.”
As the words left Bad Apple’s mouth, the tension between the brothers reached a boiling point. Without a second thought, Big Mac lowered his head, ready to charge. Bad Apple mirrored the movement, his smirk widening as the thrill of the impending clash surged through him.
But just as they were about to collide, a sudden burst of purple magic flared between them, forming a shimmering barrier that pushed them apart with force. The two brothers skidded to a stop, each glaring at the other through the glowing wall of magic.
“Enough!” Twilight’s voice rang out, firm and commanding, as she stepped forward, her horn glowing brightly as she maintained the barrier. “This has to stop!”
Both Bad Apple and Big Mac stared at each other over the barrier, neither willing to back down. The tension still crackled in the air, as if the barrier was the only thing holding them back from tearing into each other.
Big Mac, nostrils flaring, turned his attention to Twilight, his voice low and rough with barely restrained anger. “This here’s family business, Twilight. You best step aside.”
Twilight, her heart pounding but her resolve firm, shook her head. “No, I’m not going to let you two tear each other apart. You’re family!”
Big Mac’s eyes flashed with anger as he shot back, “Don’t call that snake part of my family!” His voice, usually so calm and steady, was now filled with venom.
Before Twilight could respond, another voice, sharp and no-nonsense, cut through the tension.
“What in tarnation is goin’ on here?” Applejack’s voice rang out as she approached, her eyes wide with shock as she took in the scene—the broken barn, the furious glares, and Twilight standing between her brothers.
For a moment, she almost didn’t recognize Bad Apple. His coat, a darker shade of their father’s, Bright Mac, and his mane, which bore the same color as their mother’s, Pear Butter, but with a shadowed edge, made him look more like a specter from their past than a long-lost sibling.
Bad Apple turned to face her, his smirk returning, though it lacked some of its earlier confidence. “Long time no see, sis. Still got that warm, Apple family welcome, I see. Or should I say, lack of it?”
Applejack’s eyes narrowed, the recognition sparking a surge of anger that she hadn’t felt in years. The flames of fury ignited in her chest as she spat, “What’s a no-good varmint like you doin’ back here?”
Before the situation could escalate further, another voice, older but no less commanding, broke through the rising tension.
“That’s enough, all of ya!” Granny Smith’s voice rang out as she finally caught up to the group, her sharp eyes taking in the scene. “Ain’t no way to be carryin’ on, not with company comin’. Now, Bad Apple, what in tarnation brings you back here?”
Bad Apple’s smirk remained as he reached into his coat and pulled out a carefully folded letter, holding it up for Granny Smith to see. “Believe it or not, Granny, I was invited. By none other than little Apple Bloom. Seems she’s got a soft spot for her long-lost brother. Guess she hasn’t heard all the horror stories about me yet.”
Granny Smith squinted at the letter, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized it. She let out a low, disapproving hum. “Apple Bloom, huh? That filly’s got a heart too big for her own good. But if she really sent this, then I reckon you can stay—for now.”
Bad Apple chuckled, his tone laced with faux charm. “Why, Granny, I always knew you had a soft spot for me. Still, it’s good to know I can rely on family… when it’s convenient.”
Granny Smith’s glare was as sharp as a knife. “Don’t get too comfortable, Bad Apple. You might’ve slithered your way back here, but you ain’t foolin’ me. I know a bad seed when I see one, and I’ve seen enough of ‘em to fill a whole orchard. Now get inside before I change my mind.”
Bad Apple gave her a mock salute, his smirk deepening. “As you wish, Granny. Lead on. Always a pleasure doing business with you.”
Granny Smith turned with a huff and headed toward the house, her steps slow but determined. Bad Apple followed, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he crossed the threshold. Big Mac, still bristling with anger, shot Bad Apple a look that could curdle milk before stomping inside, letting the door slam shut behind him.
Applejack, who had been stewing in her own anger, was caught off guard when she realized Twilight was still there. Her frustration flared, and she snapped before she could stop herself. “What the hay were you doin’ with him, Twilight?”
Twilight blinked, taken aback by the sudden hostility. “Applejack, I—”
Applejack cut her off, her voice harsher than she intended. “You got no idea what kinda snake you’ve been tanglin’ with. That fella’s nothin’ but trouble, and if you think he’s changed one bit, you’re foolin’ yourself.”
Twilight flinched at the sharpness in Applejack’s tone, her own expression hardening slightly. “Applejack, I was just—”
Applejack caught herself, the realization of her words hitting her like a ton of bricks. She sighed, rubbing her temples as the anger gave way to exhaustion. “I’m sorry, Twi. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just… seein’ him again, after all these years… It ain’t easy. He’s always had a way of stirrin’ up trouble.”
Twilight softened her stance, concern returning to her eyes. “It’s okay, Applejack. I understand. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”
Applejack let out a bitter laugh. “Alright? Not by a long shot. But I’ll deal with it. I’ve dealt with worse.”
Twilight hesitated, glancing back at the farmhouse where Bad Apple had disappeared. “If you ever want to talk about it… I’m here.”
Applejack nodded, her expression still tense. “I appreciate that, Twi. But this ain’t somethin’ I can talk about easy. It’s a long story, and not a pretty one.”
Twilight offered a small, reassuring smile. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Applejack didn’t return the smile, but she nodded again, her jaw set with determination. “Thanks, Twi. I’ll keep that in mind.”
As Twilight turned to leave, the unease in her gut deepened. She knew this was far from over, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that Bad Apple’s return was the start of something that could tear the Apple family apart
Twilight trotted through the familiar streets of Ponyville, her hooves moving automatically as her mind churned with the day’s events. The warmth of the late morning sun did little to chase away the unease that clung to her, and despite the bustling, cheerful activity around her, she couldn’t shake the encounter with Bad Apple from her thoughts.
The Golden Oak Library came into view in the distance, its familiar, tree-like structure offering a sense of comfort. But before she could reach it, a flash of pink caught her eye.
“Twilight!” Pinkie Pie’s voice rang out, high-pitched and full of energy as always. The pink mare was bouncing down the street, her mane as poofy and vibrant as ever, seemingly without a care in the world. A basket balanced precariously on her head, filled with what looked like an assortment of cupcakes, streamers, and... was that a rubber chicken?
Pinkie skidded to a stop in front of Twilight, her wide blue eyes immediately narrowing in on the unicorn’s downcast expression. “Twilight, what’s wrong? You look like somepony just told you that the library’s out of books!”
Twilight offered a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s... nothing, Pinkie. Just a lot on my mind.”
Pinkie wasn’t having it. “Nope! Nuh-uh! You don’t get to be all ‘it’s nothing’ when you’ve got that gloomy-woomy look on your face! Spill the beans! Or, actually, don’t spill them—beans are really hard to clean up! But you know what I mean!”
Twilight chuckled despite herself, Pinkie’s infectious energy chipping away at her worry. “It’s just... I ran into somepony today. Somepony who... isn’t exactly a good influence.”
Pinkie’s ears perked up, and she tilted her head curiously. “Ooo, who? Did somepony new come to town? I didn’t feel my ‘new pony’ sense go off! It’s usually super-duper reliable, like, I always know when somepony new is coming into Ponyville, even before they do!”
Twilight shook her head, still a bit amazed by Pinkie’s unique abilities, though she knew better than to question them at this point. “It’s somepony from Applejack’s past. Her older brother, Bad Apple.”
Pinkie’s eyes widened, and she gasped dramatically, dropping the basket from her head without even noticing. “Bad Apple? That’s a doozy of a name! He must be a real meanie-pants if he made you all frowny-faced!”
Twilight nodded, her expression growing more serious. “He’s... not a nice pony, Pinkie. He’s manipulative, and he has a way of getting under everypony’s skin. Applejack and Big Mac were so angry when they saw him, and honestly, I’m worried about what he might do now that he’s back.”
Pinkie’s usual bubbly demeanor dimmed for a moment as she absorbed Twilight’s words. “Well, that sounds like a big ol’ batch of not-fun.” But then, as if flipping a switch, her smile returned, and she bounced back to her usual self. “But you know what? You’re here in Ponyville, Twilight! And Ponyville is all about turning that frown upside down! We’ve got lots of friends who’ll make sure everything turns out A-okay!”
Twilight couldn’t help but smile a little wider at Pinkie’s optimism. “Thanks, Pinkie. You always know how to cheer me up.”
Pinkie beamed, pleased with herself. “That’s what friends are for! And hey, maybe this Bad Apple just needs a good dose of friendship! I bet he’s never had a Pinkie Pie party! That would fix him right up!”
Twilight’s smile wavered slightly, but she didn’t want to dampen Pinkie’s spirits. “Maybe... though I think he might be a tougher nut to crack than most.”
Pinkie nodded sagely, then suddenly froze mid-bounce, her eyes narrowing in confusion. “Wait a second... How come my ‘new pony’ sense didn’t go off when Bad Apple came into town? I usually get a tingling in my hooves when somepony new shows up, even if they’re not super nice!”
Twilight frowned, the question gnawing at her as well. “That is strange... Maybe it’s because he’s Applejack’s brother? Maybe you only sense ponies who are new-new to Ponyville?”
Pinkie tapped her chin thoughtfully, her head tilting from side to side as she considered it. “Hmmm, maybe! Or maybe he’s just really sneaky! But if he’s sneaky, that just means I have to work extra hard to make him smile!”
Twilight chuckled, shaking her head. “Only you, Pinkie. Only you.”
Pinkie grinned widely. “Yup! And don’t you forget it! Now, go on and get some rest, Twilight! I’ll be here if you need me for anything super-duper fun! Or if you need some cupcakes to cheer you up—because I have a whole batch right here!”
Twilight smiled, feeling a bit lighter as she waved goodbye to Pinkie and continued her walk to the Golden Oak Library. As she approached the treehouse, the comforting familiarity of it began to soothe her frayed nerves, but Pinkie’s words still lingered in her mind.
It was strange that Pinkie’s sense hadn’t gone off when Bad Apple came into town. It was one of those oddities about Pinkie that Twilight had come to trust, even if she didn’t fully understand it. And if Pinkie didn’t sense Bad Apple... what did that mean?
As Twilight pushed open the door to her library, she couldn’t help but feel that Bad Apple’s return was more than just a family matter. There was something deeper, something unsettling about his presence that she couldn’t quite put her hoof on. But for now, all she could do was wait and see what happened next.
Chapter 3: Branches Broken, Roots Intact
Chapter 3: Branches Broken, Roots Intact
Bad Apple sat in the familiar yet unwelcoming embrace of an old wooden chair, its creaks echoing faintly, a reminder of all the moments that had passed in this room without him. The dining room of the Apple family farmhouse hadn’t changed much since he’d last been here, and that fact gnawed at him. The same sturdy oak table dominated the space, its surface worn smooth by years of family meals and late-night conversations. The walls still bore the marks of a lifetime of living—scratches, dents, and memories etched into the wood.
His eyes drifted to the doorframe, where the faded marks of the Apple siblings’ heights had been carefully recorded over the years. His name, once scratched into the wood with childish pride, had been methodically removed, sanded down until it was barely a whisper of what had been. But there was a new name added below it—Apple Bloom. Her growth over the years had been documented with the same care, a fresh set of marks that told a story he hadn’t been a part of.
The more he looked, the more it became clear: this house, this family, had moved on without him. His gaze continued its journey around the room, taking in the familiar quirks that made this place home, even if it no longer felt like his own. The doorboard near the kitchen still bore the mark from the time Applejack had kicked it in frustration when they were younger, a crack that had never quite healed. The old faucet by the sink dripped steadily, a rhythmic *plink* that echoed through the room—a problem that hadn’t been fixed since the days when Granny Smith and her husband, Oak Barrel, had built the place together. The old stallion had passed before Bad Apple was even born, but his handiwork and legacy remained in every beam and board.
But despite these familiarities, the atmosphere had changed, hardened in his absence. Finally, Bad Apple turned his attention to the three ponies sitting at the table with him. Applejack, her eyes blazing with barely suppressed anger, looked like she was one wrong word away from exploding. Big Mac, usually the picture of stoic calm, had a fire in his eyes that was rare to see, his jaw clenched so tightly that Bad Apple could almost hear his teeth grinding. Only Granny Smith seemed unbothered, sipping her tea with the slow, deliberate movements of someone who had seen too much to be rattled by anything.
The teapot in front of him let out a small, high-pitched whistle as steam rose from its spout, curling lazily in the air. Bad Apple watched as Granny Smith took another measured sip from her cup, her sharp eyes peeking over the rim to meet his gaze.
Bad Apple let out a dry chuckle, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “I think we’re going to need something a little stronger than this if we’re going to have this conversation, Granny.”
Granny Smith set her cup down with a soft clink, her eyes never leaving his. “Might be so, might be so,” she said in that slow, measured drawl of hers, the one that had always made it impossible to tell if she was about to scold you or let you off the hook. “But we don’t take kindly to snakes slitherin’ into the barn. And we sure as sugar don’t pour cider for ‘em. ‘Less you’ve got somethin’ real important to say.”
Bad Apple leaned back in his chair, his eyes glinting with a mixture of resentment and amusement as he surveyed the faces around him. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. “So, we’re really doin’ this, huh? Alright then, let’s drop the niceties. Y’all wanna know why I’m here? It’s none of your business. But since you’re so keen on knowin’, let’s just say I had some time on my hooves and figured I’d check in on things. What’s it been—ten, eleven years now?”
His words dripped with sarcasm as he looked each of them in the eye. “But don’t think for a second that I came back to beg for forgiveness or fix any so-called mistakes. And I sure as Tartarus didn’t come here to be judged by a bunch of ponies who left their own kin to rot in a dungeon.”
Applejack’s eyes narrowed, anger simmering just beneath the surface. Before she could speak, Bad Apple’s gaze locked onto her, his voice sharp and biting. “And you, Applejack… Element of Honesty, right? Well, you sure got that down pat, because honesty’s the only thing you could manage. But loyalty? Ha! We’re just lucky you didn’t get stuck with that one, because you sure as hay wouldn’t know what to do with it.”
Big Mac’s deep voice rumbled from across the table, his tone as steady as a mountain but with an edge that hadn’t been there before. “Don’t you go talkin’ to her like that, Bad Apple.”
Bad Apple slowly turned his head toward Big Mac, a mocking grin tugging at his lips. “Well, look who finally found his voice. Stickin’ up for one sister now, huh? Where was that fire when I needed it?”
Granny Smith’s voice cut through the tension like a hot knife through butter. “You mind your tongue, colt. Ain’t no place here for your venom.”
Bad Apple’s smirk faded slightly, but he held onto the edge in his voice as he focused solely on Granny Smith. “Venom? Maybe. But don’t act like you didn’t have a hand in brewin’ it, Granny. Where were y’all when I was rottin’ in that Canterlot dungeon? Where were you when the accusations were flyin’, and everypony was ready to lynch me? You were all so quick to believe the worst, weren’t ya? Threw me to the wolves and never looked back.”
Applejack’s voice shook with a mix of anger and hurt, her hooves trembling as she spoke. “What were we supposed to believe, Bad Apple? You came back here with a sack full of bloodstained jewels and no Ma and Pa! We begged you to tell us what happened, but you wouldn’t say a word. Then you up and left in the middle of the night like a coward, and come mornin’, the town’s in ruins and you’re bein’ hauled off in chains.”
Applejack looked Bad Apple dead in the eyes, her gaze as hard as steel and twice as sharp. It was like she was trying to see right through him, to find the brother she once knew somewhere deep inside, but all she saw now was a stranger. The anger on her face was so fierce, so consuming, that it seemed to choke her, leaving her almost unable to speak. When she finally did, her voice was low, trembling with the weight of everything she’d kept bottled up for so long.
“I could’ve forgiven all that, ya know,” she began, her voice quivering like a leaf in the wind. “Whatever happened in that cave, the sneakin’ around behind our backs—I could’ve let it all go. But what I can’t forgive is how you threw Ma and Pa under the bus to save your own sorry hide. They couldn’t even defend themselves, and you… you might as well have walked right up to their graves and spit on ‘em.”
Her words hung in the air, thick with the bitterness of betrayal. Applejack’s voice softened, the fire in her eyes flickering as the rage gave way to a deep, old sorrow. “Do you even know what happened after that? After you left us all behind? No, you don’t—you never bothered to come back and find out.”
As Applejack spoke, Big Mac’s jaw tightened, his usually stoic face etched with a rare, visible pain. His eyes, usually calm and steady, flashed with the memory of what they had all endured. Granny Smith, meanwhile, sat quietly, her hands resting on the table. Her sharp eyes, usually full of a mischievous twinkle, were clouded with a sadness that went back generations. She didn’t say a word, but the lines on her face deepened as if the weight of Applejack’s words were adding years to her life right before their eyes.
Applejack’s gaze dropped to the floor, her voice growing even softer as she continued. “First murder case in seventy years,” she muttered, her words laced with the kind of hurt that only time can dull but never fully erase. “Folks in town looked at us like we were monsters, like we’d turn on ‘em at any moment. They said such awful things ‘bout Ma and Pa… things nopony should ever hear about their kin. It got so bad I couldn’t stay on the farm no more. I had to get away from all the whisperin’, the sideways glances…”
She reached up and took off her hat, that old, familiar Stetson that had been her constant companion through thick and thin. She set it down gently on the table, her fingers lingering on the brim. Her voice dropped to a near whisper, as if she were talking more to herself than to him. “This here… this is all
we got left of Pa,” she said, staring at the hat like it held all the memories of a happier time. “Just this old hat… and the memories. We didn’t even get any bodies to bury.”
The room was heavy with silence, the only sound the slow, deliberate ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner, marking time as if to remind them of all the years that had passed since that night. Big Mac shifted slightly, the creak of the old floorboards barely audible but enough to convey the weight of his thoughts. His eyes were focused on the table, his hands clenched into fists as if trying to hold back the tide of emotions that threatened to break through his usual calm exterior.
Granny Smith, still as a statue, finally let out a long, slow breath. The hurt in her eyes was plain to see, but she kept her silence, knowing that sometimes, words weren’t enough to convey the depths of what they’d all lost.
Bad Apple, for once, didn’t have a quick retort or a cutting remark. Applejack’s words had struck deeper than he’d expected, pulling back the curtain on wounds he’d long since buried. He leaned back in his chair, his usual smirk nowhere to be found, replaced by something that might have been regret, or maybe just the realization of how far he’d pushed them all away.
The tension in the room was thick, the air heavy with the weight of the past. The silence that followed was almost suffocating, each tick of the clock stretching out the moment as if time itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.
Bad Apple slowly reached into his pocket and placed a worn, frayed scrunchie on the table. Despite its age and the faint stain of dried blood marring its once vibrant color, every Apple in the room recognized it immediately. The once square shape had softened with time, but its significance had not. The room fell into an even deeper silence as the weight of the object settled between them.
Before anyone could react, Bad Apple spoke, his voice low and thick with a mixture of emotions. "I was scared… and angry," he began, his eyes never leaving the scrunchie as though it anchored him to the moment. "I was bein’ accused of triple homicide, parricide, and a list of other crimes those Canterlot investigators could throw at me." His tone hardened as he spat out the words, each one dripping with venom. "They told me I’d likely be sent to Tartarus, that I’d never see the sun again."
He paused, his expression darkening as a memory surfaced, unbidden. In his mind’s eye, he saw a pair of emerald green eyes staring at him, a devious smile playing on lips that had whispered poisonous words into his ear. He could almost feel the sensation of a hoof trailing down his leg, a touch that had promised freedom at the cost of his soul. A chill ran down his spine as he remembered her, that voice that had lured him into making the worst decision of his life.
"I listened to somepony," he continued, his voice faltering for a moment. "Somepony who offered me a way out. Do I want to live the rest of my days with my head up in Tartarus, or walk free with a little dirt on my hooves? I was trapped in a no-win situation, and I made my choice."
He swallowed hard, forcing himself to look directly at Applejack, who was staring at him with a mixture of disbelief and anger. "I did what I had to do," he said, the words coming out with a confidence he didn’t truly feel. "And one day, when I finally face Ma and Pa again, I know I’m gonna have to explain all of it to them."
The tension in the room was almost unbearable as Bad Apple let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His eyes softened as he continued, his voice tinged with regret. "I did come back, two years later. I thought if I let things cool down, maybe I could explain, maybe I could tell y’all what really happened. But when I got here… I saw you’d all moved on. You had Apple Bloom, and it was like you’d erased me from the house, like I’d never even existed."
His gaze drifted to the wall where the height marks still stood, each sibling’s growth documented over the years. His own name, once etched there with pride, had been scraped away, leaving only a faint scar on the wood. "After I saw that," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, "I figured maybe it was better if I stayed gone. Better to be an unpleasant memory than to come back and stir up old wounds."
The room was quiet as their grievances lay bare between them. The house, which had once held so many memories, both good and bad, seemed to absorb their collective pain. Each of them, in their own way, was lost in thought, grappling with the ghosts of their past.
Big Mac stared at the scrunchie on the table, his usually stoic face betraying the storm of emotions brewing inside him. He remembered the anger, the frustration, and the helplessness he’d felt back then, scrubbing away every trace of Bad Apple’s presence in a desperate attempt to erase the pain. He’d torn down the height marks, thrown out old belongings—anything that reminded him of his brother. But the memories were not so easily scrubbed away.
Applejack, her eyes still fixed on the hat she’d placed on the table, felt the weight of the years pressing down on her. She remembered how she had shut down after Bad Apple’s departure, moving through the halls like a ghost, avoiding every memory that might trigger the flood of emotions she wasn’t ready to face. She had buried herself in work, trying to forget, but it had never truly gone away. Eventually, it had become too much, and she’d left the farm, searching for something she couldn’t even name.
Granny Smith, still holding her teacup with steady hands, felt a deep weariness in her bones. She had done her best to hold the family together after everything fell apart, bearing the weight of it all in silence. She had cried only once over the loss of her son and daughter, at their funeral, and had pushed everything else deep down, focusing only on keeping the farm running. Now, sitting at this table with her grandchildren, the years of heartache and loss seemed to catch up with her all at once.
And Bad Apple, still staring at the wall, saw not just the faded marks of a lost childhood, but the cold stone walls of the Canterlot dungeons. He remembered the storm that had raged inside him during those dark days, the anger, the helplessness, and the betrayal he had felt. He could still feel the chill of the iron bars, the rough texture of the stone, and the seething fury that had consumed him, driving him to make choices he would regret for the rest of his life.
The room was steeped in silence, the weight of their shared past pressing down on them all, as they each confronted the scars that had never truly healed.
As time seemed to stretch in the heavy silence of their conversation, the steady ticking of the old grandfather clock suddenly grew louder, its chime echoing through the room and breaking everyone out of their contemplation.
Applejack’s eyes widened with sudden realization. "Shoot! We forgot about Apple Bloom. We should’ve been pickin’ her up by now."
Big Mac glanced at the clock, his expression shifting from intense to mildly panicked as he remembered his own obligations. "An’ I still gotta head out to get some last-minute supplies for the family get-together," he added, already halfway out of his seat.
The two of them quickly got up, their chairs scraping loudly against the wooden floor. But then, as if suddenly reminded of Bad Apple’s presence, they both hesitated, caught between leaving and staying.
Granny Smith, ever the pragmatic matriarch, let out a long, weary sigh. "You two young’uns go on and get everythin’ ready. I’ll keep an eye on Bad Apple."
Applejack and Big Mac exchanged concerned looks, clearly uneasy about leaving their brother alone with Granny. Sensing the tension, Bad Apple couldn’t resist a smirk as he quipped, "Looks like not much has changed around here—Granny still knows how to crack the whip on you two."
Applejack shot him a narrow-eyed glare, but before she could retort, Granny Smith cut in with a sharp glance that brooked no argument. With that unspoken command, both Applejack and Big Mac reluctantly turned and headed out, though not without a final wary glance back at Bad Apple.
Once they were out of the room, the tension didn’t exactly lift, but it shifted. Bad Apple, never one to dwell too long on awkward moments, simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a box of Lucky Stallion cigarettes. Granny Smith’s eyes narrowed slightly as she recognized the brand—an old favorite of her late husband, Oak Barrel. She had thought Bad Apple might’ve outgrown the habit, but seeing that familiar pack brought back memories she hadn’t expected to resurface.
Bad Apple, completely unfazed by the scrutiny, popped a cigarette into his mouth and was just about to light it when he caught sight of Granny’s disapproving look. For a moment, their eyes locked—his defiant, hers unyielding—and it was clear that old habits died hard on both sides. With a sigh of reluctant acknowledgment, Bad Apple pulled the unlit cigarette from his lips and pocketed it again. "I guess I haven’t gotten over it either," he admitted, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly.
As he stood up, ready to walk out to the porch, he noticed Granny Smith rising from her chair as well, following him with a purposeful stride. He cast a sideways glance at her, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "So, you’re gonna keep an eye on me everywhere I go, huh?"
Granny Smith gave him a look that was equal parts irritation and amusement. "Nope," she replied, her tone as dry as ever. "I’m goin’ out for a smoke, same as you."
Bad Apple stopped in his tracks, genuinely surprised. He had thought Granny Smith had given up smoking after her husband, Oak Barrel, passed away. The idea of her still indulging in the habit seemed so out of place, yet somehow fitting at the same time.
The two of them stepped out onto the porch, the weight of the house’s memories trailing behind them like a shadow. The sun was still shining brightly, but the air felt cooler, more forgiving. Granny Smith settled into her old rocking chair, pulling out a pipe instead of a cigarette and lighting it with practiced ease. Bad Apple leaned against the porch railing, finally lighting his own cigarette and taking a long drag, the smoke curling up into the air between them.
For a moment, neither of them spoke, the only sound being the creak of the rocking chair and the occasional puff of smoke. It was a strange, almost peaceful interlude after the storm of emotions inside.
Granny Smith broke the silence first, her voice softer now, tinged with the weight of the years. "You know, some things don’t change, no matter how much time passes."
Bad Apple nodded slowly, taking another drag and letting the smoke fill his lungs. "Yeah," he replied, his voice quieter than before. "Some things don’t change."
Granny Smith took a slow, deliberate puff from her pipe, letting the smoke swirl lazily in the air before she spoke again. "We got ourselves at least a good 60 minutes 'fore either one of 'em gets back. Why don't you go ahead and tell me what really happened that night."
Bad Apple mirrored her actions, exhaling a thin stream of smoke as he leaned back against the porch railing. "You already know most of it, Granny. It’s clear you didn’t spill the beans to Applejack or Big Mac."
Granny Smith rocked gently in her chair, the wooden creak filling the quiet space between them. She didn’t offer any confirmation, just kept her gaze steady on him, waiting.
Bad Apple sighed, rubbing a hoof over his face. "Alright then, where do you want me to start?"
Granny Smith let the rocking chair still as she took a moment to consider her next words. "Why in tarnation did you get mixed up with them Diamond Dogs and that fightin' pit?"
Bad Apple couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory, though it quickly turned into a rough cough as he accidentally inhaled some smoke. He took a few seconds to compose himself before speaking. "Really, Granny? That’s where you want to start?"
Granny Smith’s stare remained unyielding, her lips pressed into a thin line of determination. She was a mare who’d seen it all, and she wasn’t about to back down now.
Bad Apple sighed again, his usual bravado slipping just a bit. "Fine, fine. I’ll give it to you straight. Me and Big Mac overheard your conversation with Ma and Pa after that whole mess with the fruit bats. Ma wasn’t ready to start bucking apples again, you were gettin’ up there in age, and Big Mac… well, he was still green as spring grass when it came to the trade. And Apple Bloom was just a baby. We knew there was no way the four of us were gonna get all them trees bucked before harvest. Not by ourselves."
Granny Smith’s eyes narrowed slightly in surprise, though she didn’t say anything just yet. She hadn’t realized the young ones had overheard that particular conversation. It had been less of a discussion and more of a brewing argument, the kind that could’ve easily boiled over if left unchecked. She’d thought for sure they’d been asleep, tucked away in their beds while the adults handled the business.
"So," Bad Apple continued, tapping the ash off his cigarette and watching it fall to the porch floor, "I figured I’d take it upon myself to find a way to make ends meet. The farm’s always been hangin' by a thread, you know that better than anyone. Then there were the taxes that year—jumped up by a good bit, didn’t they? I did some quick math in my head: we had close to a hundred acres of farmland, with about sixty of that bein’ apple orchards. Then there was the pig farm, the few cattle we kept, and, of course, the zap apple jam production. But even with all that, the numbers just didn’t add up. We were barely scrapin’ by."
Granny Smith’s expression softened for just a moment, a flicker of understanding passing through her sharp eyes. She’d known the farm was in trouble, but she hadn’t realized just how much the young’uns had picked up on.
"Ya coulda come to me," Granny Smith finally said, her voice softer now, almost sad. "We woulda found a way, together."
Bad Apple shook his head, his voice tinged with regret. "I didn’t want to burden you, Granny. I thought I could handle it. Figured if I took care of the problem on my own, you wouldn’t have to worry about it. But I was young and stupid. I thought I could play with fire and not get burned. The Diamond Dogs were offerin' good money for certain… services. And that fightin' pit… well, it seemed like easy bits at the time."
Granny Smith sighed, her rocking chair creaking back to life as she shook her head slowly. "You always did think you could take the weight of the world on them shoulders of yours. But some weights ain’t meant to be carried alone, Bad Apple."
Bad Apple took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling lazily into the air as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked out over the farm, the land he’d once been willing to do anything to save. “You know, Granny, everypony gets up in the mornin’ for the same reason—bits. Ain’t no shame in that. I did what I did because I figured layin’ in the mud wasn’t gonna get me dirty. Thought I could play their game and come out clean on the other side.”
He paused, flicking the ash from his cigarette onto the porch floor. “But here’s the thing, Granny… I don’t regret it. Not one bit. The last thing I ever did for Ma and Pa was pay off that huge debt that was hangin’ over this place. They weren’t here to see it.
Granny Smith watched him closely, her sharp eyes searching his face. After a moment, she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “I knew it was you,” she said quietly, her voice steady but carrying the weight of years of suspicion confirmed. “Always figured there was more to that story than what we heard. Deep down, I knew you had a hoof in payin' off that debt.”
Bad Apple met her gaze, his expression unreadable. “You’re right, Granny. I did what needed doin’. And I’d do it again if it meant keepin’ this place above water.”
Granny Smith sighed, leaning back in her chair and taking a slow, deliberate puff from her pipe. “You always were as stubborn as a mule in a mud hole, thinkin’ you could haul the whole world on your back just ‘cause you were born with a stronger body than most. But listen here, Bad Apple, it ain’t just about what you do for the family—it’s how you go about doin’ it. And the way you went about it… well, it’s like leavin’ a pie half-baked—still a mess that needs fixin’.”
Bad Apple’s eyes flickered with a mixture of defiance and something else, something deeper. “Maybe so, Granny. But I ain’t apologizin’ for keepin’ this place goin'. I did what I had to do.”
Granny Smith nodded slowly, as if she’d expected nothing less. “I reckon that’s the truth. And I reckon that’s why you’re sittin' here now, smokin' on this porch, instead of off somewhere else, outta sight and outta mind.”
Bad Apple looked down at the cigarette in his hoof, a small, bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, Granny… reckon you’re right.”
Bad Apple leaned forward, flicking ash from his cigarette, his eyes narrowing as he looked out over the fields. "Let’s cut to the chase, Granny. How in Equestria are you keepin’ this place goin’ with just two ponies doin’ all the heavy liftin'? Applejack and Big Mac might be tough, but they’re just two ponies. What happens if one of 'em gets hurt or sick? What if the wagon breaks down in the middle of harvest season? Who’s left to pick up the slack?”
He snorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You know, I’ve been hearin' some rumors about your dealings with Filthy Rich, too. Word around town is he’s squeezin’ you harder than ever, cuttin’ your margins down to the bone. You sell him your best cider And jam for dirt cheap, and he turns around and sells it at three times the price. And from what I hear, you’re still locked in that old contract from when Grandpappy signed it. A deal that was good back then but is killin’ you now. Why haven’t you renegotiated?”
Granny Smith’s expression tightened, but she remained silent, her eyes never leaving Bad Apple’s.
He continued, “You’ve got what, three acres of apple orchards? Maybe more if you’ve been replantin'. You’re sellin’ cider like it’s gold, but the production costs are eatin' you alive. Each acre gives you around 183 barrels of cider if you’re lucky. You sell a couple of barrels a week to the local bars, but that ain’t
much. Most of it goes to that snake, Filthy Rich. And then there’s the cider festival—sure, it brings in some bits, but it’s not enough to make up for the loss you’re takin' on those contracts.”
Bad Apple took another drag, exhaling smoke through his nostrils. “You’re keepin' an acre set aside for them vampire fruit bats. That’s a third of your yield gone right there, for who knows how long until those new trees are ready to produce. That’s a big chunk of income you’re missin'. Unless you’re gettin' some compensation from the Princesses, that’s a dead loss. You’re replacin’ trees every year, cuttin' down another hundred for firewood. All the while, you’re tryin’ to juggle corn, grapes, carrots, and a bunch of livestock that need feedin’ and care.”
He shook his head, a mixture of disbelief and frustration in his voice. “You’re stretchin' yourselves too thin, and it’s gonna bite you. The farm’s gotta be at least 200-300 acres, with half of that bein' pasture for cows and sheep. You’re runnin’ a whole damn ranch with barely any help, and for what? A few bits of profit here and there, if you’re lucky.”
Granny Smith's face was tight, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—pride, maybe, or stubbornness. “We’ve been doin’ this for generations, Bad Apple. We know what we’re doin'. This land’s been in our family, and we ain’t about to let it go just because times are tough.”
Bad Apple’s lip curled, his tone hardening. “This ain't about lettin' go, Granny. This is about adaptin'. You think heart and tradition are gonna keep this place afloat? It ain't. You gotta be smart about it, and right now, it looks like you're lettin' sentiment blind you to the reality. Filthy Rich is bleedin' you dry, and you're lettin' him because of some old deal that's outlived its time.”
He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing, “I get it, Granny. This place is home. But home ain't worth a damn if it's draggin' you under. You gotta start thinkin' like a business pony or you're gonna lose everything, and that ain't just numbers talkin'—that's the hard truth.”
Granny Smith narrowed her eyes, the lines on her face deepening with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. “And just how in tarnation do you know all this, huh? You ain’t been around, so where you gettin’ your information from?”
Bad Apple let out a chuckle, a wry grin spreading across his face. “Granny, the one thing I’ll give Canterlot credit for—they sure know how to keep their records straight. Public ledgers, business filings, court documents… all right there for anypony with half a brain to look up. You’d be surprised what you can find out if you know where to dig.”
He leaned back against the porch railing, taking another drag from his cigarette, clearly enjoying the moment. “You might say I’ve kept a close eye on things. Figured it’s always good to know what’s goin’ on back home. And I’ve gotta admit, I got a real knack for numbers these days—comes with the territory of bein’ the second most hated thing in Equestria… a lawyer.”
Granny Smith snorted, unimpressed but not entirely surprised. “So you’ve been spyin' on us from the comfort of them fancy Canterlot offices, huh? And here I thought you were too busy chasin' bits to care.”
Bad Apple shrugged, his grin never faltering. “A pony's gotta have a hobby, Granny. And keepin’ up with the family drama? Turns out that’s more entertainin' than I thought.”
Granny Smith gave a short, dry laugh, shaking her head. “Well, we ain’t the only ones with drama to our name. Seems like every other time I pick up the newspaper, there’s your name poppin’ up—defending another snake or some lowlife up in Canterlot. You sure know how to keep yerself in the thick of things, don’t ya?”
Bad Apple’s grin widened. “What can I say, Granny? Snakes know their own kind. Keeps life interestin’. And besides, there’s good money in defending the so-called ‘undesirables.’ Everypony deserves a fair shake, don’t they?”
Granny Smith huffed, her eyes narrowing. “Fair shake, huh? Or just a fat purse for doin’ what nopony else would touch with a ten-foot pole? Ain’t like you to go gettin’ all righteous on us now.”
Bad Apple shrugged again, looking amused. “Oh, I ain’t righteous. Not by a long shot. But a bit’s a bit, and I never could resist an opportunity to make some easy ones. Just funny how ponies will pay through the nose when they’re backed into a corner.”
Granny Smith gave a snort, her eyes crinkling with a mix of frustration and amusement. “Looks like age didn’t make ya any wiser, Colt.”
Bad Apple chuckled, finishing up his cigarette and flicking the butt off the porch. “Maybe not wiser, but it sure as hay made me smarter.” He exhaled the last of the smoke, a sly grin creeping across his face. “Guess we should finish up the smoke break. Applejack’s liable to raise Tartarus if she catches you puffin’ away again.”
Granny Smith smirked, a glint in her eyes. “Why would she be mad at me? I could just as easy blame it on you, y’know. Wouldn’t be the first time you took the heat.”
Bad Apple let out a genuine laugh, the sound echoing across the porch. “Didn’t know you still had jokes in ya, Granny. Maybe age did make you a little sharper after all.” He leaned back, the tension in his posture easing just a bit.
Granny Smith took a final, thoughtful drag from her pipe, her sharp eyes still fixed on Bad Apple. "So, where ya plannin' on layin' your head while you’re in town? And how long ya reckon you'll be stayin’ here?"
Bad Apple hesitated, glancing out over the fields before answering. "Haven’t decided yet, Granny. Might stick around for a bit, see how things go."
Before Granny Smith could press him further, the sound of approaching voices caught their attention. As Applejack and Apple Bloom made their way down the road, Apple Bloom's excited chatter filled the air. The young filly was practically bouncing as they got closer, her eyes widening when she saw the unfamiliar stallion standing next to Granny Smith.
Apple Bloom's face lit up with recognition. "I knew you got my letter!" she exclaimed, rushing up to Bad Apple with a wide grin. "Why were ya gone so long? How come nopony ever told me 'bout ya? And why didn’t ya write back sooner?"
Bad Apple chuckled, holding up a hoof to pause her flood of questions. "Hold on, kiddo," he teased gently, "One question at a time. I’ll tell ya what I can… but some things might be a story for when you're a bit older. Or maybe Granny or Applejack here will fill you in."
Apple Bloom huffed, her face scrunching up in a pout. "I am older! Old enough to know everything!" She tilted her head, curiosity practically bursting from her. "What’s it like bein’ a lawyer? Do ya live in a big house in Canterlot? Can ya teach me how to argue and win, like ya do?"
Bad Apple grinned, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "You’ve already got some fire in ya, Apple Bloom. Arguin' might come naturally for you," he said warmly. "But yeah, I reckon I could teach ya a few things, if you don’t mind learnin’ from someone with a bit of a… reputation."
Applejack kept her distance, her expression wary and her eyes watchful. "That reputation is exactly what worries me," she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. Her voice carried a mix of suspicion and restraint. "Good to see you bein' decent to Apple Bloom, at least."
Bad Apple gave her a knowing look, his grin softening just a bit. "Well, it ain't her fault she wrote to a brother she didn't know she had," he replied evenly. "Just figured she deserved some answers."
Applejack's eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded. "Fair enough. But don’t think for a second you’re off the hook just 'cause you're bein' nice."
Bad Apple shrugged, his smile fading into something more sincere. "I ain’t here to cause trouble, Applejack," he said quietly. "I came in three days early to take care of some things, and I figured it was about time I met the little sister who reached out to me."
Granny Smith watched them both, a knowing glint in her eye. "Three days early, huh? Seems like you’ve been keepin' busy," she remarked, her tone still carrying a hint of suspicion.
Bad Apple glanced over at her with a casual shrug. "Had some business to settle. Things don’t always go as planned."
Apple Bloom, ever the eager one, piped up again. "So, are ya gonna stay for a while? Will ya be here for the family reunion?"
Bad Apple looked down at her with a soft smile. "Yeah, I reckon I will. Seems like there’s a lot to catch up on."
Applejack kept her gaze steady, her expression still guarded but not quite as hard as before. "We’ll see how things go," she said, her tone cautious. "Reckon we got a lot to sort through."
Apple Bloom, unable to contain her excitement, beamed at Bad Apple. "I’m glad ya came! I wanna hear all the stories and learn all the things!"
Bad Apple chuckled again, his smile genuine. "Well, I better get ready for a lot of questions then," he replied, looking between Applejack and Apple Bloom.
Applejack crossed her hooves over her chest, still watching him closely. "Just remember," she warned, "We ain't lookin' for any more trouble."
Bad Apple nodded, his expression serious. "I hear ya, AJ. No trouble… just tryin’ to do right by the family this time."
Granny Smith, sensing the tension beginning to ease just a bit, gave a small nod. "We’ll hold ya to that, Bad Apple. Let’s see if you mean what ya say."
The air between them remained thick with uncertainty, the weight of years apart pressing down on their shoulders. Applejack stood still, her eyes never leaving Bad Apple, trying to read the intentions behind his calm demeanor. Bad Apple, for his part, seemed to sense the tension but kept his focus on Apple Bloom, whose enthusiasm was as infectious as ever.
Without warning, Apple Bloom grabbed Bad Apple's hoof with surprising strength and tugged him toward the door. "C'mon, Bad Apple! You gotta see my clubhouse! And I’ve got a million questions about bein' a lawyer! Oh, and wait ‘til you see the new apple pie recipe I came up with!"
Bad Apple chuckled, letting himself be pulled along. "Alright, alright, slow down, kiddo," he laughed, trying to keep up with her rapid-fire excitement. "I’m here, ain’t I? You’ll have plenty of time to show me everythin'."
As they disappeared into the house, Apple Bloom's voice continued to chatter away, her questions flying faster than Bad Apple could answer. The door swung shut behind them, the old wood groaning under the movement, leaving Applejack and Granny Smith alone on the porch.
Granny Smith turned her gaze from the door to Applejack, a knowing look in her eyes. "Well, that went better than I thought it would," she drawled, leaning back in her chair, the creak of the wood the only sound for a moment.
Applejack sighed deeply, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she watched the door. "Maybe, Granny, but I still don’t trust him. Not yet, at least. Ain't exactly easy forgettin' all he put us through."
Granny Smith nodded slowly. "Might be he’s lookin’ for a chance, whether he knows it or not. Ain’t easy bein’ a big brother again after all this time."
Applejack's gaze hardened, though not without a touch of softness. "Chance, huh? I just don’t want Apple Bloom to get hurt. She’s so excited to have a big brother… I don’t want her disappointed."
Granny Smith smiled, a gentle, almost sad smile. "She’s tougher than she looks, that one. Got the same fire in her as the rest of us. But… maybe havin' Bad Apple around will be good for her, and for him, too. Might be they can teach each other a thing or two."
Applejack gave a short nod, her expression contemplative. "Maybe. But I’m gonna be watchin’. One wrong step, and he’ll have to answer to me."
Granny Smith chuckled softly. "Wouldn’t expect nothin' less from ya, Applejack."
Applejack allowed a small smile to creep onto her face. "I’ll give him a chance, Granny… but only one."
Granny Smith patted her on the back gently. "That’s all anypony can ask for, sugarcube."
Inside, Apple Bloom’s excited chatter filled the air, her laughter ringing out, followed by Bad Apple's amused responses. The sound drifted through the open window, filling the porch with a warmth that seemed almost foreign after so many years of silence.
After a moment, Applejack turned back toward the door, her mind still spinning with thoughts. She opened it, but just as quickly stepped back out, her eyes narrowing at the faint scent of smoke that still lingered on the porch.
"Granny…" Applejack’s voice was sharp, almost accusing. "Are you smokin' again?"
Granny Smith hesitated, then let out an awkward laugh, the kind that comes from being caught with a hoof in the cookie jar. "Well now, sugarcube, I ain’t exactly been smokin’…" She shot a sideways glance at the old pipe beside her, then tilted her head toward where Bad Apple had been standing. "But I reckon he’s been smokin' more than his fair share."
Applejack crossed her hooves and sighed, half-amused, half-exasperated. "Figures. Can't leave y’all alone for five minutes without somethin' like this."
Granny Smith gave a small shrug, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Ain't my fault he's got his old habits, now, is it?"
Applejack rolled her eyes but couldn't help a slight grin. "No, Granny, guess it ain't." She looked toward the door again, the sound of Apple Bloom’s laughter still ringing in her ears. "Just hope he's here for the right reasons this time."
Granny Smith nodded slowly, watching Applejack carefully. "We’ll find out soon enough, I reckon."
Applejack took a deep breath, then gave Granny a knowing look. "Yeah… we will."
As the sun hung high in the midday sky, casting soft light over Sweet Apple Acres, Granny Smith rocked gently in her chair, a twinkle in her eye. "Ain't nothin' ever easy with family. But it’s always worth tryin'."
Applejack glanced back inside, her smile growing just a bit more genuine. "Yeah, Granny… reckon you’re right."
With that, she stepped back inside, leaving Granny Smith alone on the porch. The old mare chuckled softly to herself, shaking her head as she settled back in her chair, the quiet creak of the wood keeping time with the soft rustle of the leaves in the afternoon breeze.
And for the first time in a long while, the farm felt just a little bit fuller.
Chapter 4: Missing Pages and Hidden Secrets
Chapter 4: Missing Pages and Hidden Secrets
Twilight Sparkle and Spike were seated in the Golden Oaks Library, surrounded by stacks of books and scrolls. The once orderly library was now a chaotic mess of papers, evidence of their exhaustive search for information. Twilight, her brow furrowed in frustration, flipped through another book and sighed.
"This doesn't make any sense, Spike! There should be something here about Bad Apple—anything! But it’s like he never existed," Twilight exclaimed, her voice tinged with irritation.
Spike, perched on a stack of books with a newspaper in hand, looked up thoughtfully. "Yeah, it’s really strange, Twilight. You’d think with a big case like that, there would be at least a few records or mentions in the library. But it's like somepony went out of their way to erase him."
Twilight nodded, her eyes scanning the shelves as if hoping for a hidden clue. "Exactly! But why? What would be the point of covering up something like this? And who would even have the power to do it?"
Spike scratched his head, his face contorted in confusion. "Maybe somepony really didn’t want anypony else to know about what happened. But… who could do something like that?"
Twilight frowned, deep in thought. "I don’t know, Spike. But this is more than just frustrating—it’s suspicious. I’ve never had this much trouble finding information on anything, not even ancient magic."
As Spike flipped through another newspaper, something caught his eye. "Twilight, look at this!" He hurried over, holding the newspaper up to her.
Twilight took the newspaper, her eyes widening as she read the headline: "Smuggling Ring Uncovered Near Ponyville: Dead Bodies Found, Mysterious Attack Linked to Young Stallion." Her heart skipped a beat as she scanned the article.
"Spike, this is it! This is about Bad Apple!" Twilight exclaimed, her voice a mix of excitement and concern.
Spike peered over her shoulder. "It says here that an illegal smuggling ring was busted near Ponyville—something to do with Diamond Dogs. But it sounds like they got tipped off before the guards could get there. They found some… bodies and other illegal stuff, but it doesn’t say much more."
Twilight nodded, reading further. "And the only pony they arrested was Bad Apple… He was just sixteen. But it doesn’t explain why he was involved or what happened after. The story just… ends."
Spike frowned. "That’s so weird. Why wouldn’t they explain what happened next? You’d think there’d be more follow-up on something like this."
Twilight folded the newspaper, her mind racing. "Exactly, Spike. Something about this whole thing feels off. We need to dig deeper, but the records here are either missing or incomplete. Maybe Mayor Mare or some of the older ponies in town remember something."
Spike raised an eyebrow. "You really think they’ll want to talk about it? I mean, this sounds like something everypony’s been trying to forget."
Twilight sighed, standing up and putting the newspaper into her saddlebag. "I hope so, Spike. But it’s the only lead we have right now. We have to try."
Spike hopped off his stack of books, ready to follow her out. "Okay, but don’t you think it’s a little strange that there’s hardly anything about this in the library? What if somepony’s hiding something? Like, maybe a dark secret?"
Twilight rolled her eyes with a small smile. "Spike, you’ve been reading too many comic books. But… maybe you’re right. There’s definitely something strange going on, and I intend to find out what it is."
As they stepped outside into the warm afternoon sun, Twilight glanced around at the familiar streets of Ponyville. But today, something felt different. The town, usually so welcoming and open, seemed almost… distant. Twilight couldn’t quite place the feeling, but it lingered at the edge of her awareness, gnawing at her curiosity.
"Come on, Spike," Twilight said, shaking off the unsettling feeling. "Let’s start with Mayor Mare. If anypony knows about what happened back then, it’s her."
Spike nodded, falling in step beside her. "Yeah, and if she doesn’t, maybe we can ask some of the older ponies. Somepony’s gotta know something."
Twilight took a deep breath, determination settling in. "Let’s hope so, Spike. Let’s hope so."
Twilight and Spike made their way to the Town Hall, the quiet murmur of administrative work filling the air as they entered the building. They approached Mayor Mare’s office, and Twilight knocked politely on the door.
A moment later, the mayor’s assistant opened the door, nodding in greeting. "Twilight, Spike. The mayor will see you now."
Mayor Mare looked up from her desk with a warm smile as they entered. "Well, if it isn’t Twilight Sparkle and Spike! What can I do for Ponyville’s favorite problem solvers today?"
Twilight returned the smile as she stepped closer. "Mayor Mare, we’ve been doing some research on an old case involving Bad Apple, and we’ve hit a few... snags. We thought you might be able to help us find more information."
At the mention of Bad Apple, Mayor Mare’s smile froze, her eyes widening in surprise. "Bad Apple?" she repeated, her voice carrying a note of unease. "That’s a name I didn’t expect to hear again. Why the sudden interest?"
Twilight hesitated for a moment, then continued, "Actually, Mayor, he’s back in Ponyville."
Mayor Mare’s eyes widened even more, and she visibly stiffened. "Back? As in... back in Ponyville?" Her usually composed demeanor faltered, replaced with a flicker of fear. She quickly recovered, trying to maintain her calm. "I... I wasn’t aware of that."
Twilight picked up on the shift in Mayor Mare’s tone but pressed on gently. "Yes, he is. I’ve been looking through some records related to his case, but it seems like some of them have been... misplaced or removed."
Mayor Mare’s surprise morphed into a look of concern as she stared at her desk. "Removed? That’s... unusual, Twilight. I don’t know why that would be." Her voice carried a tone of feigned surprise that didn’t escape Twilight’s notice.
Spike, picking up on the tension but keeping the mood light, quipped, "Smells like a mystery to me! Maybe somepony’s hiding something!"
Mayor Mare forced a smile, clearly trying to downplay the situation. "Oh, Spike, always the detective. I’m sure there’s a simple explanation for this."
Twilight, her voice calm but firm, leaned in a bit. "Mayor, I was hoping you could direct me to some of the older residents who might remember what happened. Maybe they could help fill in the gaps where the records are missing."
Mayor Mare hesitated, her eyes darting slightly before she answered. "Well, Twilight, it’s just that... a lot of ponies who were here back then prefer not to talk about it. It was a dark chapter for Ponyville, and most have tried to put it behind them."
Twilight frowned, understanding the mayor’s reluctance but not willing to give up. "I understand, Mayor Mare, but this is important. I need to know what really happened."
Mayor Mare sighed, the weight of the past clearly pressing on her. "Twilight, I’m not sure how much help I can be. The ponies who lived through that time... well, they don’t like to revisit it. But if you’re set on finding out, I suppose you could try asking a few of the older residents. Just... be gentle, okay? Some wounds haven’t fully healed."
Twilight nodded, sensing that the mayor was holding something back but not wanting to push her too hard. "Thank you, Mayor. We’ll be careful."
As Twilight and Spike turned to leave, Mayor Mare’s voice softened as she called after them, "Twilight, some things are better left in the past. Please... be careful."
Twilight glanced back, offering the mayor a reassuring nod before stepping out of the office. Once they were outside, she sighed, the weight of the mystery settling on her.
"Spike, I think we’ve stumbled onto something bigger than we thought," Twilight said, her tone serious.
Spike, ever the optimist, grinned and rubbed his claws together. "Well, if there’s a mystery, we’re the perfect team to solve it! Let’s get to work, one pony at a time!"
Twilight smiled at Spike’s enthusiasm, but deep down, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that this investigation was leading them into deeper, darker waters than either of them had anticipated.
Twilight and Spike ventured out of Town Hall with a determined purpose, but as they made their way to speak with the local ponies, they quickly realized that getting information about Bad Apple wasn’t going to be easy.
They approached several ponies in the market square and even a few older residents they recognized, but the responses were frustratingly vague. Some ponies avoided the topic entirely, brushing off Twilight’s questions with excuses or claiming they didn’t remember much. Others gave conflicting accounts that only added to the confusion.
One older stallion insisted, “I heard he was involved with smuggling Diamond Dogs into the town!”
But another mare shook her head and whispered, “No, no, he was hiding out in the Everfree Forest, practicing dark magic. That’s what I heard.”
Spike frowned, clearly puzzled. “Dark magic? Smuggling? This is all over the place, Twilight.”
Twilight sighed, nodding in agreement. “I know, Spike. It’s like trying to solve a puzzle with all the pieces mixed up.”
Another pony, one of the few who would talk to Twilight at all, insisted that Bad Apple had been wrongly accused, his voice wavering as if he wasn't sure whether he believed it himself.
Twilight’s patience was wearing thin. Every story she heard seemed to contradict the last, and no one was willing to give her a straight answer. As she continued her inquiries, Twilight began to notice something strange. Ponies were giving her looks—sideways glances and whispered conversations that trailed off whenever she approached. The warmth and friendliness she had always felt in Ponyville seemed to evaporate, replaced by an uncomfortable tension.
“Twilight,” Spike whispered, his voice low as they walked away from yet another unhelpful conversation, “is it just me, or are ponies acting weird around us?”
Twilight nodded, her brow furrowed. “You’re right, Spike. It feels like they don’t want to talk about Bad Apple at all, almost like they’re afraid. I’ve never felt like this in Ponyville, not even when I first arrived.”
Spike looked up at her, concern written on his face. “You don’t think... maybe there’s something they’re trying to hide?”
Twilight gave him a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t know, Spike. It feels strange, but I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. Maybe it’s just that whatever happened was so bad that they’d rather not remember.”
As they reached the edge of the marketplace, Twilight spotted Rarity and Fluttershy walking together, chatting quietly. Relief washed over her, and she hurried over to them, Spike following close behind.
“Rarity! Fluttershy!” Twilight called out, her voice tinged with the strain of her fruitless search.
Rarity turned, her expression brightening when she saw Twilight. “Oh, Twilight, darling! You look like you’ve been through the wringer. Whatever is the matter?”
Fluttershy gave her a concerned look, her gentle voice full of worry. “Twilight, are you alright? You seem... troubled.”
Twilight sighed, running a hoof through her mane. “I’ve been trying to find out more about Bad Apple, but it’s been nothing but dead ends and rumors. Nopony seems to want to talk about it, and the few who do have completely different stories. It’s like everypony in town has a different version of what happened.”
Spike chimed in, “Yeah, and they’re all totally different! One pony said he was smuggling Diamond Dogs, and another said he was practicing dark magic. It’s like nopony knows what really happened.”
Rarity frowned, her brow furrowing delicately. “Bad Apple? Oh, I’ve heard that name before, but I wasn’t even in Ponyville when all that happened. I only know that I managed to buy my boutique for a pittance after whatever... incident... took place, but I had to rebuild it myself.”
Fluttershy nodded, her eyes wide as she remembered. “I wasn’t in town either when it all started, but I came in afterward. I saw him... Bad Apple, I mean. He was being dragged away by the royal guards. At first, I thought he was some sort of wild animal in distress, the way he was struggling and fighting against them. But then... I saw his eyes.”
Fluttershy shuddered at the memory, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. “He looked at me with such... such anger. It wasn’t just anger—it was like he hated everything, everyone. It scared me so much that I ran all the way back to my cottage.”
Spike’s eyes widened. “Whoa, that sounds intense.”
Rarity laid a comforting hoof on Fluttershy’s shoulder, her expression softening. “That sounds absolutely dreadful, darling. No wonder you were frightened.”
Twilight frowned, processing this new information. “So you both weren’t here for the start of everything, but you were around for the aftermath. Do either of you remember anything else? Maybe something that could help me understand what really happened?”
Fluttershy shook her head slowly. “I’m sorry, Twilight. I just remember that one moment... But, you know who might know more? Pinkie Pie. She was around back then, wasn’t she, Rarity?”
Rarity nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, Pinkie’s been here longer than I have. If anypony knows what happened, it’s her. And you know how she is—always in the middle of everything, whether she means to be or not.”
Spike perked up at the suggestion. “Yeah, Pinkie’s bound to know something. She’s got a nose for secrets!”
Twilight sighed in relief, feeling a glimmer of hope. “Thanks, girls. I’ll go talk to Pinkie. Maybe she can help me piece this together.”
Rarity smiled, though her expression was still tinged with concern. “Good luck, Twilight. And do be careful. It sounds like you’re poking at a beehive with all this.”
Fluttershy nodded, her eyes soft with worry. “Yes, please be careful. We don’t want you to get hurt.”
Twilight smiled at her friends, appreciating their concern. “I will, don’t worry. I just want to get to the bottom of this.”
With that, Twilight and Spike set off toward Sugarcube Corner, the weight of the mystery still heavy on their minds, but now with a renewed determination to uncover the truth.
Twilight Sparkle and Spike made their way through the streets of Ponyville, the warm afternoon sun casting long shadows as they approached Sugarcube Corner. The quaint bakery was buzzing with the usual activity, the sweet scent of freshly baked goods wafting through the air. As they stepped inside, the bell above the door chimed, and Pinkie Pie, ever the embodiment of energy, bounced out from behind the counter.
“Hi, Twilight! Hi, Spike! What’s up? Are you here for some super-duper, extra-frosted, double-chocolate cupcakes? They’re fresh out of the oven!” Pinkie beamed, her curly mane bouncing with every word.
Twilight managed a small smile, though her mind was clearly focused on the task at hand. “Hey, Pinkie. Actually, we need to talk to you about something… important.”
Pinkie’s energetic demeanor softened slightly as she noticed Twilight’s serious tone. “Oh, important? Like, super-secret-party-planning important? Or maybe top-secret-mission important?”
Spike rolled his eyes playfully. “More like ‘we’re digging into a mysterious past’ kind of important.”
Pinkie’s ears perked up, curiosity shining in her eyes. “Mysterious past? Ooh, sounds like a real doozy! Who’s the mystery pony?”
Twilight took a deep breath before responding. “We’re trying to find out more about Bad Apple, and we’ve been hitting a lot of dead ends. We were hoping you might know something, especially about what happened with him years ago.”
At the mention of Bad Apple, Pinkie’s usual bounce seemed to deflate a bit, her expression becoming more thoughtful. “Isn’t that the pony you were talking about who used to live here? The one named Apple?”
Twilight gently levitated a newspaper out of her saddlebag and unfolded it in front of Pinkie Pie. “Take a look at this, Pinkie. This is an old news article about Bad Apple.”
Pinkie’s eyes widened as she focused on the picture in the article. “Wait… this looks just like Apple! The pony I met when I first came to Ponyville.”
Twilight’s eyes widened in surprise. “Apple? He went by the name Apple when you met him?”
Pinkie nodded quickly, still processing the revelation. “Yeah, he just called himself Apple. He never mentioned anything about being called Bad Apple. I had no idea they were the same pony! I knew him for only about a week, but he seemed pretty nice. He even helped me get a job with the Cakes. But now that I think about it, he did ask me a lot of questions about my rock farm and how we broke rocks. It was kinda odd…”
Twilight shook her head in disbelief. “I didn’t realize he had changed his name like that… or maybe he was hiding his true identity. It makes sense now why you didn’t recognize him when I first mentioned Bad Apple.”
Pinkie blinked a few times, her mind racing as she connected the dots. “I had no clue! He was just Apple to me… How could I have known?”
Pinkie then added thoughtfully, “I always thought he was a little weird. He’s the only other pony that’s ever asked me about my rock farm and how we broke rocks. Nopony else ever found that interesting!”
Twilight placed a comforting hoof on Pinkie’s shoulder. “You couldn’t have known, Pinkie. Without the picture, it would have been impossible to connect the two.”
Twilight leaned in, her attention fully on Pinkie now. “Anything you can tell us would be helpful, Pinkie. We’ve been hearing a lot of conflicting stories, and we’re trying to piece together what really happened.”
Pinkie Pie nodded, her blue eyes taking on a rare seriousness. “Alright, but I gotta warn you, Twilight, it’s not a fun story. It all started when two strangers came into town…”
Spike, ever curious, piped up. “Strangers? What did they want?”
Pinkie tapped her chin, recalling the events. “They came into town saying all these awful things about Bad Apple. They told everypony that he was doing really bad stuff in the woods—things like smuggling and hurting others. They even said they had proof, but I never saw it myself. Whatever they said, it got everypony really scared.”
Twilight’s brow furrowed. “Scared enough to form a mob?”
Pinkie nodded, her mane seeming to lose a bit of its usual bounce. “Yeah, a mob. Everypony was so scared and angry… They wanted to find Bad Apple and make sure he didn’t hurt anypony else. But when they found him, he was with the royal guards. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, just walking with them.”
Spike tilted his head, puzzled. “So what went wrong?”
Pinkie sighed, the memory clearly weighing on her. “One of the guards said something really mean about his family. Bad Apple just… snapped. He hit the guard so hard that he flew into a building! After that, the other guards tried to take him down, but he fought back. He was covered in all these scars, like he’d been through a lot, and seeing him so angry… it was scary, Twilight. Really scary.”
Twilight listened intently, her mind racing as she tried to connect the dots. “And what did the townsponies do when they saw this?”
Pinkie’s expression darkened further. “They didn’t help. They started throwing things at him, trying to stop him, but that only made him angrier. He went on a rampage and destroyed a lot of buildings. It was like he was a different pony—so full of anger and hurt.”
Spike shuddered. “That must have been terrifying.”
Pinkie nodded slowly. “It was. And after everything happened, those two strangers who started it all just… disappeared. Nopony saw them again. It was like they were never here.”
Twilight shook her head, still slightly irritated but also grateful for the new information. “I’m going to write a letter to Princess Celestia to get copies of the information from that time. If the records were removed, there has to be a reason, and I’m going to find out what it is.”
Spike, ever the loyal assistant, nodded eagerly. “I’ll get the parchment and quill ready.”
As Spike began preparing to write, Twilight looked back at Pinkie Pie, her expression softening. “Thanks, Pinkie. I know this wasn’t easy to talk about, but it’s really important that we figure this out.”
Pinkie smiled, her usual cheer returning. “You’re welcome, Twilight! And hey, if you need help, I’m your mare. Just say the word!”
Twilight nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. “I think it’s time we gathered the girls and talked to Applejack. She needs to know what we’ve found out so far.”
With that, the three of them left Sugarcube Corner, each step taking them closer to uncovering the truth about Bad Apple.
Chapter 5: Echoes of the Orchard
Chapter 5: Echoes of the Orchard
Bad Apple followed Apple Bloom up the creaky, worn wooden steps to the old treehouse. Each step groaned under their combined weight, and for a moment, Bad Apple half-expected the whole structure to give way. The treehouse had always been a bit rickety, a hideout for him, Applejack, and Big Mac back when they were foals. It was a place filled with secrets, plans, and the kind of mischief only siblings could cook up together. But to his surprise, the treehouse held firm, its weathered boards still sturdy after all these years. As he stepped inside, he was met with a rush of memories—memories he’d tried to bury, yet ones that surfaced as soon as he crossed the threshold.
The interior of the treehouse was a mix of old and new. The wooden walls, once rough and bare, were now decorated with drawings, posters, and keepsakes from the Cutie Mark Crusaders' many adventures. A patched-up rug covered the floor, and a small table in the corner was cluttered with art supplies and bits of half-finished projects. The place had a warm, lived-in feel, but there were still traces of the old clubhouse he remembered from his youth.
“This old thing hasn’t fallen apart yet?” Bad Apple mused, a hint of disbelief in his voice as he scanned the room. His eyes lingered on a few of the familiar spots—the corner where they’d once hidden secret plans, the rickety chair Big Mac had always insisted on using despite its wobble.
Apple Bloom grinned, clearly proud of what she and her friends had accomplished. “Nope! We fixed it up a while back. Me and the Crusaders—we spent a whole summer gettin’ it back in shape. It’s our clubhouse now!”
Bad Apple nodded, impressed despite himself. “Y’all did a fine job. Looks better than it did when we were foals.” His eyes drifted to the ceiling, where faint chalk marks still lingered, remnants of old games and plans they’d scrawled out in their youth.
As Apple Bloom led him around, pointing out the little improvements they’d made—a new window here, a reinforced beam there—Bad Apple couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of nostalgia and unease. He could almost see the faint echoes of the past in the room, memories from the edge of his mind, almost forgotten, now surfacing as he took in the familiar surroundings.
In one corner, he could almost make out a younger Applejack, her mane tied back with a makeshift ribbon, daring Big Mac to jump from the highest point of the treehouse. He hadn’t thought about that day in years, but now the memory was vivid, filling his mind as he scanned the room.
But it wasn’t just Applejack and Big Mac he saw. There was another figure, a bit smaller, a bit more distant. It tugged at his memory, but he couldn’t quite pull it into focus. He frowned slightly, pushing the thought aside as Apple Bloom continued talking.
“This place sure has seen a lot of livin’,” he muttered, more to himself than to Apple Bloom, as his eyes traced the familiar yet changed surroundings. But even as he spoke, more memories—ghost-like in their clarity—flitted around the edges of his vision.
There, by the old window, was the memory of his mother, Buttercup, carefully sewing patches on a blanket while humming a soft tune. She’d often join them in the treehouse after their father had called it a day, her presence making the space feel even warmer, more like home. Bad Apple could almost hear her voice, soothing and kind, telling them stories of how she and Bright Mac had built a life on the farm, brick by brick, seed by seed.
And by the doorway, the faint image of Bright Mac himself, standing tall and steady, his eyes filled with pride as he watched his children play. He’d always been a man of few words, but his love and strength were clear in every glance, every action. Bad Apple blinked, and the images faded, leaving behind only the familiar sight of the treehouse and Apple Bloom’s eager face.
Apple Bloom’s eyes sparkled with excitement, oblivious to the memories stirring in her brother. “We use it for all kinds of things—our meetin’s, plannin’ our crusades, and just hangin’ out. It’s where we come up with our best ideas for gettin’ our cutie marks!”
At the mention of cutie marks, Bad Apple let out a low chuckle, slipping briefly into his old country drawl. “Always chasin’ after those marks, huh? Some things never change. Granny and Ma used to say they’d come when they’re ready, no need to rush.”
Apple Bloom nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, Granny says the same thing to us! But me and my friends, we ain’t the patient type.”
Bad Apple’s lips curled into a half-smile, a bit of warmth creeping into his usually guarded expression. “Guess that runs in the family.”
As Apple Bloom continued to show him around, pointing out all the little improvements they had made, Bad Apple’s attention was caught by something carved into the wood, partially hidden behind some old crates. He moved closer, brushing away the dust and grime to reveal a set of initials carved into the wooden wall: A.J., B.M., and B.A., along with a fourth set, F.R., faint but unmistakable.
The sight of the carvings brought another rush of memories, and for a moment, he could see them all again—Applejack and Big Mac laughing as they took turns carving their initials, and that smaller figure, F.R., quietly working alongside them, more serious and focused. He remembered how proud they’d all been to leave their mark, a permanent reminder of their bond.
Apple Bloom noticed his interest and leaned in to get a better look. “That’s you, Applejack, and Big Mac, right? But… who’s F.R.?”
Bad Apple hesitated, his mind flashing back to long-forgotten memories. He knew exactly who F.R. was, but he wasn’t ready to share that part of the story just yet. Instead, he slipped back into his more polished, Canterlot-acquired tone. “Could be a friend from back in the day. It’s been so long, I can’t quite recall.”
Apple Bloom, ever curious, pulled out a small knife she had stashed away. “Well, if it’s a secret spot, we should add our initials too! Me, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle—we’re part of the history of this treehouse now!”
Bad Apple arched an eyebrow at the sight of the knife but didn’t seem overly concerned. “You supposed to have that, kid?” he asked, though his tone was more amused than stern.
Apple Bloom shrugged with a grin. “Granny says as long as I’m careful, it’s alright. Besides, it’s for important things like this!” She moved to carve their initials next to the old ones, her face scrunched up in concentration.
Bad Apple watched her, a mix of nostalgia and something else stirring in his chest. After a moment, he spoke, his voice softer. “Just be careful with that. You don’t want to carve too deep or too shallow—make sure it lasts, but don’t ruin the wood.”
Apple Bloom nodded seriously, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she worked. “I will! I want this to be here forever, just like yours.”
As Apple Bloom finished carving the initials into the wood, she stepped back to admire her work. The new initials—A.B., S.B., and S.L.—sat proudly beside the older, more weathered ones, blending the past and the present in a way that made the treehouse feel even more special.
Bad Apple nodded approvingly. “Good job. You’ve got a steady hoof.”
Apple Bloom beamed at the praise, then turned to him, her eyes shining with curiosity. “Bad Apple, can I ask you somethin’?”
“Sure, what’s on your mind?”
Apple Bloom hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Granny always tells us that cutie marks and talents will come when they come, and that we shouldn’t rush. But what about things like wantin’ stuff? Like, is it okay to want more than what you have?”
Bad Apple thought for a moment before answering, carefully choosing his words. “Wantin’ things ain’t a bad thing, kid. Wantin’ more, bein’ greedy even, can push you to do better, to work harder. Greed can be a powerful motivator, somethin’ that drives you to succeed.”
Apple Bloom frowned, crossing her hooves. “But Granny and Applejack always say that wantin’ too much can make a pony selfish, like when Diamond Tiara used to brag about her money and stuff. How’s it okay to be greedy then?”
Bad Apple considered her words, realizing he’d need to go a bit deeper. “It’s true that greed can make some ponies selfish, but it’s not the greed itself that’s the problem—it’s how you use it. Greed is like a tool; it can help you build somethin’ good if you use it right, or it can destroy everything if you let it control you.”
Apple Bloom still looked unconvinced, so Bad Apple decided to give her an example. “Alright, think of it this way magine you’ve got a pie, and you want the biggest
slice because you’re hungry. That’s a kinda greed, right? But if you take the biggest slice every time, and don’t leave enough for your friends, then you’re lettin’ your greed hurt others.”
He paused, letting that sink in before continuing. “But what if you use that same greed to make more pies, so there’s plenty for everyone? Now, your greed pushed you to work harder and do better, and everypony benefits from it.”
Apple Bloom tilted her head, thinking it over. “So, it’s okay to want more, as long as you’re careful about how it affects other ponies?”
“Exactly,” Bad Apple said with a nod. “It’s all about balance. Just like how givin’ away everything you have can leave you with nothin’, wantin’ too much, or lettin’ greed control you, can end up destroyin’ you. Greed can push you forward, but if you ain’t careful, it can also lead you down a dark path.”
Apple Bloom nodded slowly, finally understanding. “So it’s not just about wantin’ stuff—it’s about how you use that want to help yourself and others?”
Bad Apple smiled slightly, slipping back into his more polished tone. “You got it, kid. Use your desires to push you forward, but don’t let them blind you to what’s really important.”
Apple Bloom smiled, clearly satisfied with his answer. “I’ll remember that. Thanks, Bad Apple.”
He nodded, appreciating the moment of connection between them. For a moment, he almost felt like a real big brother again, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. But the feeling was bittersweet, tinged with the knowledge of how much he’d lost.
As they sat in the treehouse, the late afternoon sun filtering through the leaves, Apple Bloom looked around, her expression thoughtful. “You know, Bad Apple, I’m glad you came back. It’s different havin’ you around. Feels like I’m gettin’ to know a part of the family I never really had before.”
Bad Apple chuckled, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I’m here now. Guess we’ll see how it goes.”
Unbeknownst to Apple Bloom, Applejack was nearby, trying to be as sneaky as possible while eavesdropping on their conversation. She wasn’t exactly subtle, though—peeking her head out from behind the tree, almost in clear view. Bad Apple noticed her immediately, but didn’t let on that he had seen her. Instead, he allowed her to follow them, just like in the old days when they played hide and seek.
“Still terrible at hidin’,” Bad Apple thought to himself with a wry smile. “But she always did have a knack for findin’ folks.”
Turning his attention back to Apple Bloom, he decided to teach her something useful. “So, have they started lettin’ you buck apples yet?” he asked casually.
Apple Bloom nodded eagerly. “Yeah! They let me help out, but they don’t let me do the big trees yet. Just the smaller ones.”
“Good,” Bad Apple said, slipping back into his old accent for a moment before catching himself and switching back to his Canterlot tone. “That’s good practice. Learn to pace yourself. But remember, it ain’t just about the strength—it’s about the technique. I’ll show you a few tricks.”
Apple Bloom’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Really? That’d be awesome!”
Bad Apple chuckled, feeling a strange mix of pride and awkwardness. He wasn’t used to dealing with kids, but for Apple Bloom, he was willing to make an exception. As they continued talking, he couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite everything, he might have a chance to reconnect with his family after all.
And as for Applejack, still hiding not-so-sneakily behind the tree, Bad Apple just smiled to himself, letting her think she was going undetected, just like old times.
Bad Apple watched Apple Bloom square up to the tree, her small frame tense with determination. She took a deep breath and bucked the trunk with all her might, but instead of the satisfying thud of apples raining down, there was… nothing. The tree barely shook, and not a single apple budged from its branch.
Bad Apple couldn’t help it—he let out a small, amused snort. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to draw Apple Bloom’s attention. She spun around, glaring at him, her face flushed with embarrassment and frustration.
“What’re you laughin’ at?” she demanded, crossing her hooves and pouting.
Bad Apple held up his hooves defensively, though the smirk didn’t quite leave his face. “Sorry, kid. Just didn’t expect that. It was a good effort, really.”
Apple Bloom huffed, turning her back to him. “You think you know so much about buckin’ apples? You haven’t worked on the farm in years! What do you know about it anyway?”
Bad Apple’s smirk softened, and a thoughtful look crossed his face. “Alright, fair enough,” he said. “But let me ask you this: what do you know about Earth pony magic?”
Apple Bloom turned back to him, her curiosity piqued. “Magic? What does that have to do with buckin’ apples?”
Bad Apple leaned against the tree, his tone calm as he began to explain. “Everything, actually. See, you’re right—I haven’t worked on the farm in a long time. But that doesn’t mean I forgot what I learned. Magic is all around us, and every creature can pull it in. That’s somethin’ most ponies don’t realize. It’s not just unicorns that can use active magic. Any creature can, with enough practice and focus.”
Apple Bloom’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? I thought only unicorns could do that fancy spell stuff.”
Bad Apple nodded. “That’s what most ponies believe, but it ain’t true. Why do you think the apples fall when we buck the tree a certain way? Sure, part of it is our strength, but it’s more than that. Earth ponies have a natural connection to the land and its magic. Most of us use that magic passively without even knowin’ it.”
Apple Bloom frowned, still unsure. “But if it’s magic, why can’t we just, I dunno, think about it and make it happen? Why do we have to buck the tree?”
Bad Apple smiled, impressed by her question. “Good point, kid. It’s because our magic works differently. It’s tied to the earth, and it flows through us into what we touch. When you buck the tree, you’re sendin’ a pulse of magic through your body and into the tree. That pulse creates a shockwave that forces the tree to release its apples.”
Apple Bloom’s frown turned into a thoughtful expression as she absorbed his words. “So… it’s not just about buckin’ hard?”
“Exactly,” Bad Apple said with a nod. “It’s about connectin’ with the tree, with the land. You’re not just hittin’ it—you’re lettin’ the magic flow through you and into the tree. That’s why some Earth ponies are so good at growin’ things or workin’ the land. They’ve learned how to use their magic, even if they don’t realize it.”
Apple Bloom’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Can you show me? Can you show me how to do that magic?”
Bad Apple grinned, stepping back to give her room. “Sure thing, kid. But let’s start simple. Close your eyes and focus on the tree. Can you feel anything?”
Apple Bloom closed her eyes, concentrating hard. She felt the earth beneath her hooves, the warmth of the sun on her back, and then… something else. It was subtle, but there was a tingling sensation in her legs, almost like a gentle current of energy flowing up from the ground.
“Yeah, I can feel it,” she said, her voice filled with wonder.
“Good,” Bad Apple said, his tone encouraging. “Now, when you feel that magic, pull it into your hooves from the ground. Gather it up like a ball, and when you’re ready, let it flow through you and buck.”
Apple Bloom focused on the sensation, gathering the magic just like he said. When she felt ready, she opened her eyes, reared back, and bucked the tree with all her might.
There was a loud *thud* as her hooves connected with the trunk. The tree shook violently, and almost every apple fell to the ground in a cascade of red and green. But more than that, there was an echoing crack, and Apple Bloom’s hoof was momentarily stuck in the small dent she had created in the bark.
“I did it! I did it!” Apple Bloom cried, hopping up and down on her free hoof, her face glowing with excitement.
Bad Apple’s eyes widened in surprise at the force of her buck. “Well, I’ll be… You’re a natural, kid. That’s some serious magic you got there.”
Apple Bloom beamed, pulling her hoof free from the bark with a bit of effort. But before she could continue her celebration, Bad Apple added with a smirk, “But... Applejack’s probably gonna be a little pissed about that dent in the tree.”
Apple Bloom gasped and quickly corrected him, her voice indignant. “You can’t say words like that! That’s a bad word!”
Bad Apple laughed, shaking his head. “Ah, come on, kid. I’m an adult—I can say what I want.”
Before Apple Bloom could retort, Applejack stepped
out from her hiding spot behind the tree, her voice firm but playful. “You might be an adult, Bad Apple, but that doesn’t mean you can go around sayin’ things like that, especially in front of Apple Bloom!”
Apple Bloom crossed her hooves, nodding in agreement. “Yeah! What she said!”
Bad Apple chuckled, holding up his hooves in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll watch my mouth.”
Applejack walked over, giving him a playful nudge. “You better. We might have to start washin’ it out with soap again if you don’t.”
Both sisters burst out laughing as Bad Apple rolled his eyes, grinning despite himself. “Fine, fine. But let me show y’all somethin’ else.”
He walked over to another tree, this time taking a more measured approach. “There’s another way to get the apples down without buckin’ the tree too hard. It’s all about findin’ the weak spot, the place where the magic flows easiest. If you can find that, you don’t need to buck as hard.”
Apple Bloom and Applejack watched curiously as Bad Apple lightly tapped his hoof against the tree. The moment was charged with tension as if the entire orchard held its breath. To their amazement, a single apple dropped neatly from its branch, landing perfectly in his hoof.
Bad Apple held the apple up with a satisfied smile, taking a slow bite as the juice dripped down his chin. “See? It’s all about control and precision. Everything has a weak spot, and if you can find it, you can knock down just one apple or a whole bunch—all with one precise strike.”
Applejack’s eyes widened in surprise, clearly impressed. “That’s some serious skill, Bad Apple.”
Apple Bloom’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Can you teach me how to do that too?”
Bad Apple chuckled. “Sure thing, kid. With practice, you’ll be just as good.”
As they stood together, the sun beginning its descent in the sky, Bad Apple couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of contentment. Despite the years of distance and the shadows of the past, this moment—being here with his sisters—felt right. It was as if, for just a brief moment, the wounds of the past had started to heal.
As they walked back toward the farmhouse, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long, golden rays over the orchard. Bad Apple’s eyes swept over the familiar landscape, memories flooding back with each step. He could almost see the ghosts of the past in the fields—the faint image of Applejack and Big Mac racing through the trees as foals, their laughter echoing through the years. Sometimes, he’d catch a glimpse of their father, strong and steady, guiding them with that quiet, knowing smile. And there was their mother, her gentle voice carried on the wind, calling them in for supper.
He blinked, shaking off the visions. They weren’t haunting him; they were simply there, lingering at the edges of his mind, reminders of a time when things were simpler. He didn’t see them often, but being back on the farm had brought the memories closer, almost like the land itself was nudging him to remember.
Apple Bloom, oblivious to the images that danced in Bad Apple’s mind, trotted beside him, her earlier excitement mellowed into a thoughtful quietness. After a while, she looked up at him with curious eyes. “Bad Apple, you said before that Pa taught you some tricks with magic. Was it the same one you showed me? The one that makes just one apple fall?”
Bad Apple nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. “Yeah, kid. It’s the same technique. Pa—Bright Mac—was real particular about how things were done, especially when it came to the land. He taught me and Applejack how to find the weak spots in a tree, how to make the most out of our magic without wastin’ any of it.”
He paused, glancing at Applejack, who was walking a few paces ahead. “I guess Pa never got to fully teach you the finer points, AJ,” he added, his voice softening as the weight of those words settled between them.
An awkward silence fell over the group, the air thick with unspoken emotions. Applejack didn’t turn around, but Bad Apple could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her steps slowed just a bit. He knew he’d touched on a sore spot, and the regret was immediate.
Apple Bloom, who had been quietly absorbing the conversation, broke the silence with a question that had been bubbling up inside her for as long as she could remember. Her voice was soft, tinged with sadness. “Bad Apple… what were Ma and Pa like? I mean, I’ve heard stories from Granny, Big Mac, and Applejack, but… I never really got to know them.”
Bad Apple’s steps faltered for a moment, the question catching him off guard. He hadn’t expected to talk about their parents so openly, not now. But he looked down at Apple Bloom, her wide eyes filled with genuine curiosity and a hint of sorrow, and he couldn’t deny her.
“They were… they were good ponies,” Bad Apple began, his voice tinged with a bittersweet tone. “Pa—Bright Mac—was strong, but not just in the way you might think. He had this way of knowin’ exactly what needed to be done, whether it was on the farm or with us kids. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, you listened. And he taught me a lot, even when I didn’t think I needed to learn.”
Apple Bloom listened intently, her gaze never leaving his face. This was the first time she’d ever heard him speak like this, so openly, and it made her realize just how much he’d kept inside since he returned.
“Ma—Buttercup—she was somethin’ else,” Bad Apple continued, his voice softening even more. “She had this warmth about her, like she was the heart of the farm. She was always singin’ when she worked, always smilin’. But she was tough too, in her own way. She had to be, raisin’ all of us. She could make you feel better just by bein’ around, and she was always there when you needed her.”
He paused, swallowing back the lump that had formed in his throat. “I remember them bein’ so proud of us, no matter what we did. And they loved this place, this farm… it was everything to them. They worked hard to make it what it is, and they wanted us to do the same.”
Apple Bloom’s eyes were wide, absorbing every word. She had never heard Bad Apple speak this way before, and it struck her how much he must have kept inside all these years.
“It wasn’t always easy, though,” Bad Apple continued, his voice dropping a bit. “There were hard times, times when it felt like the world was against us. But they never gave up. And even when I left… I never forgot what they taught me. It’s what brought me back here, I guess.”
The silence that followed was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was filled with the shared weight of memories, of loss, and of the ties that bound them together.
Finally, Apple Bloom spoke up, her voice small but determined, despite the sadness lingering in her tone. “I wish I could’ve known them. But… I’m glad I know more about them now. Thanks, Bad Apple.”
Bad Apple nodded, a faint, melancholic smile on his face. “You’re welcome, kid. I think they’d be real proud of you.”
Chapter 6: Bruised Apples
Chapter 6: Bruised Apples
As Applejack, Bad Apple, and Apple Bloom stepped through the front door of the farmhouse, the warmth of home wrapped around them. The smell of fresh apple fritters and stew filled the air, welcoming them back after a long day.
Apple Bloom, her energy still bubbling, immediately ran ahead, her hooves clattering against the wooden floor. Big Mac barely had time to turn around before she barreled into him, wrapping her small hooves around his neck in a tight hug.
“Big Mac! You won’t believe it—I bucked a tree today! All by myself!” she squealed, bouncing in place. “Bad Apple showed me how! I got nearly all the apples down, just like he said!”
Big Mac smiled softly, returning her hug. “That so?” His gaze flicked over to Bad Apple, a hint of wariness in his eyes. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”
Bad Apple gave a small nod, smirking. “She’s a fast learner. Just needed a little technique.”
Applejack stepped in behind them, giving Big Mac a nod as well. “I was there too, Big Mac. Saw the whole thing. Kid’s got a knack for it.”
Before Big Mac could ask any questions, Granny Smith’s voice cut through from the kitchen. “Dinner’s on the table, y’all! Get in here before it gets cold!”
The family began moving toward the dining room. Apple Bloom, full of excitement, bounced ahead with Big Mac and Applejack trailing behind. But just as she reached the table, Apple Bloom noticed something. She looked over her shoulder, realizing that Bad Apple hadn’t followed. Instead, he was standing near the door, his hoof on the handle, about to leave.
“Bad Apple, where’re you goin’? You leavin’ already?” Apple Bloom’s voice carried a note of disappointment.
Bad Apple paused, looking back at her with a small, apologetic smile. “Figured I’d head to the hotel. Didn’t wanna overstay.”
Apple Bloom frowned, stepping closer. “Why don’t you stay for dinner? You’re family, ain’t ya?”
For a moment, Bad Apple seemed to consider it, then his smile grew. “Well, how can I say no to you, princess?”
Apple Bloom’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Quit callin’ me that!” she huffed, though her eyes sparkled with delight.
Chuckling softly, Bad Apple let go of the door and turned to join them at the table. “Alright, alright. Guess I can stay for one meal.”
As he sat down, Big Mac and Applejack exchanged surprised glances. Neither had expected him to agree so easily, but neither said anything. Granny Smith, ever neutral, didn’t react beyond a small smile, simply passing out the plates. “Y’all get settled. Ain’t no reason to let good food go to waste.”
With that, the family settled in for dinner, the atmosphere momentarily lighter as they prepared to eat together.
The sounds of silverware and plates filled the farmhouse as the Apple family gathered around the table. The smell of Granny Smith’s famous apple fritters and stew added a comforting warmth to the room.
Apple Bloom, still buzzing from the day, couldn’t hold back her excitement. “Big Mac! Guess what? I bucked a tree today! Bad Apple showed me how, and I got almost every apple down!”
Big Mac smiled, his eyes warm with pride. “That’s great, Apple Bloom! Yer gettin’ stronger every day.”
Apple Bloom hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing with a bit of embarrassment. “Well... I might’ve left a little dent in the tree…”
Big Mac chuckled, giving her a reassuring nod. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. Ya did good.”
Apple Bloom’s face brightened again as she sat back in her chair. Applejack, already digging into her food, added with a playful grin, “Just make sure ya don’t go leavin’ dents in all the trees now. We’d like to keep ‘em in one piece.”
Apple Bloom giggled. “I’ll try not to!”
She went on, her excitement bubbling over. “And before we even got to the orchard, me and the Crusaders were tryin’ to earn our cutie marks in pottery today. It didn’t go too well, though. Scootaloo ended up with a pot stuck on her head!” She laughed, remembering the chaos.
Granny Smith let out a chuckle. “Sounds like one heck of a mess, sugarcube.”
Apple Bloom’s tone shifted a little as she continued. “But then, after school, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon started pickin’ on me again. Callin’ me a ‘blank flank’ like always.”
The room quieted down a bit. Applejack frowned, her eyes narrowing. “Those two still givin’ ya a hard time?”
Apple Bloom nodded, looking down at her plate. “Yeah... they won’t quit.”
Bad Apple, who had been quietly eating, leaned back in his chair and glanced at Apple Bloom. “Ya wanna know how to handle ponies like that?”
Apple Bloom looked up, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “How?”
Bad Apple gave her a small, knowing grin. “Don’t make yourself an easy target. They keep pickin’ on ya because they think you won’t do nothin’ about it. Ya gotta find somethin’ they’re not confident about—maybe their looks, or their family—and give it right back to ‘em. They’ll think twice ‘fore messin’ with ya again.”
Applejack shot him a stern look. “That ain’t how we do things ‘round here, Bad Apple.”
Big Mac nodded in agreement, his voice low but firm. “Ya don’t gotta lower yourself to their level, Apple Bloom. Fightin’ back like that just makes things worse.”
Bad Apple shrugged, unbothered by their disapproval. “Ain’t sayin’ ya gotta start a fight. Just don’t let ‘em walk all over ya. Show ‘em they can’t get to ya, and they’ll back off. Simple.”
Apple Bloom looked unsure, glancing between her siblings. Granny Smith, who had been quiet, finally spoke up with her usual calm wisdom. “Sometimes the best thing ya can do is lift yer head up and keep walkin’. Them words don’t mean nothin’ if ya don’t let ‘em.”
She smirked, adding with a playful twinkle in her eye, “But a couple good comebacks don’t hurt now and then. Just don’t go stirrin’ up trouble if ya don’t have to.”
Apple Bloom nodded, her mind swirling with the advice from her family. She wasn’t sure what to do, but at least she knew she had options.
Apple Bloom’s ears perked up. “What do you mean?”
Bad Apple smirked. “Oh, your big sis didn’t tell you about the time she stuffed Rose in a locker?”
Apple Bloom gasped, looking at Applejack in disbelief. “Applejack, you did that?”
Applejack’s cheeks flushed. “We were kids, Apple Bloom. Things were different.”
Bad Apple continued, “And Big Mac? You were smaller than Berry Punch, but you didn’t think twice about knockin’ her down when she wouldn’t leave you alone.”
Apple Bloom’s jaw dropped. “Big Mac, you fought Berry Punch?”
Big Mac sighed. “Yeah, but I wasn’t proud of it. Even if she was bigger, what I did wasn’t right.”
Apple Bloom blinked, taking it all in. “How come y’all never told me any of this?”
Applejack, still uneasy, explained, “Because we learned there’s better ways to handle things.”
Big Mac nodded. “Standin’ tall means more than bein’ bigger or tougher.”
Bad Apple leaned in, clearly enjoying himself. “Sure didn’t seem to matter back then. You stood up for yourselves, and they didn’t mess with you again, did they?”
Applejack shot him a look. “That doesn’t mean we handled it right.”
Apple Bloom giggled. “I can’t believe y’all used to fight like that!”
Granny Smith finally chimed in. “A good comeback here and there works, but it’s better to keep your head high and let the trouble slide off ya.”
Bad Apple’s grin grew sharper. “Seems like you two were just fine with standin’ up for yourselves when it suited you.”
Big Mac’s jaw tightened as he met Bad Apple’s gaze. “You got somethin’ you wanna say?”
Bad Apple leaned forward, his smirk still in place. “Just wonderin’ why you’ve got such a problem with the advice I’m givin’ Apple Bloom. It worked for you, didn’t it?”
Big Mac’s eyes darkened. “What worked for me ain’t what’s best for her.”
Bad Apple raised an eyebrow, his grin not fading. “Really? You sure it’s not just ‘cause you don’t want her to know how things really were?”
Big Mac’s voice dropped, steady but firm. “No. It’s ‘cause she deserves better than that.”
Bad Apple’s smirk faltered just slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Better, huh? Funny how that works now.”
As the family ate, Bad Apple leaned back, his grin teasing as he glanced between Applejack and Big Mac. “Funny how y’all turned into pacifists. I remember when you didn’t mind standin’ up to bullies.”
Apple Bloom’s ears perked up. “What do you mean?”
Bad Apple smirked. “Oh, your big sis didn’t tell you about the time she stuffed Rose in a locker?”
Apple Bloom gasped, looking at Applejack in disbelief. “Applejack, you did that?”
Applejack’s cheeks flushed. “We were kids, Apple Bloom. Things were different.”
Bad Apple continued, “And Big Mac? You were smaller than Berry Punch, but you didn’t think twice about knockin’ her down when she wouldn’t leave you alone.”
Apple Bloom’s jaw dropped. “Big Mac, you fought Berry Punch?”
Big Mac sighed. “Yeah, but I wasn’t proud of it. Even if she was bigger, what I did wasn’t right.”
Apple Bloom blinked, taking it all in. “How come y’all never told me any of this?”
Applejack, still uneasy, explained, “Because we learned there’s better ways to handle things.”
Big Mac nodded. “Standin’ tall means more than bein’ bigger or tougher.”
Bad Apple leaned in, clearly enjoying himself. “Sure didn’t seem to matter back then. You stood up for yourselves, and they didn’t mess with you again, did they?”
Applejack shot him a look. “That doesn’t mean we handled it right.”
Apple Bloom giggled. “I can’t believe y’all used to fight like that!”
Granny Smith finally chimed in. “A good comeback here and there works, but it’s better to keep your head high and let the trouble slide off ya.”
Bad Apple’s grin grew sharper. “Seems like you two were just fine with standin’ up for yourselves when it suited you.”
Big Mac’s jaw tightened as he met Bad Apple’s gaze. “You got somethin’ you wanna say?”
Bad Apple leaned forward, his smirk still in place. “Just wonderin’ why you’ve got such a problem with the advice I’m givin’ Apple Bloom. It worked for you, didn’t it?”
Big Mac’s eyes darkened. “What worked for me ain’t what’s best for her.”
Bad Apple raised an eyebrow, his grin not fading. “Really? You sure it’s not just ‘cause you don’t want her to know how things really were?”
Big Mac’s voice dropped, steady but firm. “No. It’s ‘cause she deserves better than that.”
Bad Apple’s smirk faltered just slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Better, huh? Funny how that works now.”
The tension around the table thickened as Big Mac stared across at Bad Apple, his voice low and firm. “What you’re tellin’ Apple Bloom… it ain’t right. Teachin’ her to hit back like that—”
Bad Apple leaned in, unfazed. “What’s wrong with it? Worked fine for you when you were her age.”
Big Mac shook his head, his tone growing sharper. “That don’t mean it was right. Fightin’ back like that, hurtin’ other ponies—that’s not the kind of pony she needs to be.”
Bad Apple scoffed. “You think she’s better off lettin’ ponies walk all over her? ‘Cause that’s what’ll happen if she don’t stand up for herself.”
Apple Bloom, confused by the shift in tone, looked between her brothers, her brow furrowing. “What are y’all talkin’ about?”
Applejack, feeling the unease growing, cut in. “It’s not somethin’ for young fillies, Apple Bloom.”
Bad Apple smirked, glancing over at Applejack. “Oh, come on. We can talk about things that happen in the world without gettin’ into the messy details, can’t we? Not everythin’ has to be sugarcoated.”
Granny Smith, who had been quietly observing, seemed to let the conversation slide with a nod. The atmosphere remained tense, but it was clear she wasn’t going to step in just yet.
Big Mac’s jaw tightened, and then he finally said it. “Like that case in Canterlot, huh? Defendin’ that pony after what she did? You call that standin’ tall?”
Apple Bloom blinked, looking up at her brother. “What case?”
Bad Apple’s smile faded into something more calculated. “The case he’s talkin’ about was when I defended a pony who tragically took the life of a young filly in an accident. Something that couldn’t have been prevented.”
Applejack’s face twisted into a frown, her voice thick with tension. “Didn’t seem much like an accident to me.”
Big Mac nodded in agreement. “Ponies don’t just ‘accidentally’ do somethin’ like that.”
Bad Apple’s eyes narrowed slightly, but his voice remained steady as he defended his position. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see the evidence. It was a terrible accident, but accidents happen, and the pony wasn’t at fault. That’s why I defended her. That’s why I won.”
Applejack’s eyes narrowed, but not because of what he said—she could feel that Bad Apple wasn’t being entirely truthful. He wasn’t exactly lying, but there was more to what he wasn’t saying, and that only made her more uneasy. “You’re twistin’ things around. You know there’s more to it than that.”
Bad Apple met her gaze, calm but unyielding. “I gave the truth as it was. The law’s meant to give everypony a chance, no matter what. That’s how it works. You think just because somethin’ terrible happened, that pony didn’t deserve to be defended?”
Big Mac’s voice was heavier now, filled with frustration. “She should’ve been punished for what she did. What you did was wrong.”
Bad Apple’s expression hardened. “Everypony deserves a defense. Even the guilty. What kind of kingdom would we have if we just threw ponies away without givin’ them a chance to defend themselves? Or would you rather we start turnin’ everypony to stone just because they cause a little inconvenience?”
Applejack’s face flushed red with anger at the comment, her voice rising. “So that’s what this is about? You think we’re just runnin’ around ‘blessin’ ponies with rainbow lasers like it’s nothin’? That’s what you’re diggin’ at?”
Bad Apple shrugged, his tone sharp but casual. “I’m just sayin’. Y’all don’t seem too fond of second chances when it don’t suit ya.”
Applejack’s hooves clenched against the table, her eyes narrowing. “We don’t turn ponies to stone for ‘inconveniences.’ We’ve done it when there was no other choice. And don’t act like what you did was just about doin’ what’s right. You love stirrin’ up trouble.”
Bad Apple’s grin returned, though colder than before. “Trouble’s only there when ponies don’t like the truth. Ain’t my fault if it stirs the pot.”
The room was tense, and Apple Bloom, still unsure of what was happening, shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I don’t get it… why would defendin’ somepony be bad?”
Granny Smith, watching carefully, finally stepped in. “It’s a complicated thing, Apple Bloom. Sometimes, even when the law’s followed, it don’t sit right with everypony. But Bad Apple’s right ‘bout one thing—everypony deserves their say.”
Big Mac shook his head, the frustration still plain in his eyes. “Deserves their say… sure. But defendin’ somepony who’s hurt others? That’s where I draw the line.”
Bad Apple crossed his forelegs, unbothered by the weight of the accusations. “And that’s where you’re wrong, Big Mac. If we start pickin’ and choosin’ who gets a defense based on how we feel, then we ain’t no better than tyrants.”
The tension from the earlier conversation hung in the air, but Apple Bloom, ever curious, spoke up. “Why would ya defend a bad pony, Bad Apple? Ain’t that wrong?”
Bad Apple chuckled lightly. “Well, for starters? It pays real good.”
At that, Applejack, Big Mac, and Granny Smith all shot him frowns across the table. Their disapproval was clear.
Seeing their reactions, Bad Apple smirked, but his tone shifted, becoming more serious. “But here’s the real reason, Apple Bloom. Everypony deserves a chance to defend themselves. Doesn’t matter if they’re right or wrong. If we didn’t give everypony that chance, then there wouldn’t be any real justice. Ponies would start actin’ outside the law, thinkin’ it’s the only way they’ll get a fair shot. Sure, maybe some bad ponies slip through the cracks, but it keeps the rest in line, knowin’ they’ll get a fair chance—and might still get punished.”
Apple Bloom tilted her head, trying to understand. “So, it’s not about helpin’ the bad ponies, then?”
Bad Apple shook his head. “Not exactly. When I look at ponies who commit crimes, I see three types: the misguided, the vicious, and the necessary. The misguided? They can be turned around. The vicious? Well, they’ll get what’s comin’ to ‘em eventually. And the necessary ones? They’re the ones who do bad because they think there ain’t any other way.”
Applejack and Big Mac stayed silent, but the frowns on their faces deepened as they processed his explanation.
Just then, Granny Smith let out a yawn and looked over at Apple Bloom. “Well, it’s about that time, sugarcube. You’ve got school in the mornin’, and you’ll need your rest.”
Apple Bloom’s face fell slightly, her excitement from the earlier conversations fading. “Aww… but I wanna hear more.”
Bad Apple chuckled, ruffling her mane. “There’ll be time for more stories, princess. Go on, now.”
Apple Bloom, smiling up at him, hopped out of her seat and hugged him tightly before giving Big Mac, Applejack, and Granny Smith quick hugs as well. As she headed upstairs, Applejack called after her, “And don’t forget to wash up tonight, or I’ll be wakin’ you up early to do it in the mornin’!”
Apple Bloom groaned but nodded before disappearing down the hall. The room fell quiet again, the only sound being the clink of dishes as Big Mac picked up his plate and took it to the sink.
Without a word, Big Mac headed toward the door, stepping outside. Applejack, after a glance at Bad Apple, quickly followed him, leaving Granny Smith and Bad Apple alone at the table.
Granny Smith eyed Bad Apple for a moment, her gaze soft but knowing. “You don’t have to antagonize ‘em, ya know.”
Bad Apple leaned back in his chair, giving her a wry grin. “They make it too easy.”
Granny Smith chuckled, shaking her head. “Still. You should apologize.”
Bad Apple’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a more thoughtful expression. “They’re too sensitive. I question their worldview a little, and they’re ready to tear me apart. I’m pretty sure they were holdin’ back because Apple Bloom was sittin’ there.”
Granny Smith gave him a sharp look. “I raised ‘em right. They can think for themselves, just like you. It’s up to them how they live.”
Bad Apple raised his hooves in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, you’re right. We all make our own choices. Guess I’ll play peacemaker tonight. Let me guess—they’re in the same spot as usual?”
Granny Smith smirked knowingly as she stood up from the table. “Of course. Some things don’t change.”
With that, she headed upstairs, leaving Bad Apple to his thoughts. He sat there for a moment, finishing the last of his cider before standing up and making his way outside.
The cool night air greeted him as he made his way past the orchards, the familiar path leading him toward the old fourth farmstead, nestled between the third orchard and the fourth, close to the Everfree Forest. It didn’t take long for him to spot them in the distance—the faint flicker of lantern light and the sound of clinking bottles.
As he drew closer, he could see Big Mac and Applejack already drinking from bottles of hard cider, the tension from earlier still clinging to them as they sat together.
Bad Apple smirked to himself. “Well, look who got started without me.”
Bad Apple strolled through the orchard, the lantern light from the old fourth farmstead guiding him to where Big Mac and Applejack sat, bottles of hard cider between them. He grinned as he approached, ready to stir things up.
“Well, well,” Bad Apple called out, settling himself beside them, “looks like I found where the party’s at.”
Big Mac grunted, setting his bottle down with a little more force than necessary. “You weren’t invited.”
Bad Apple feigned offense, clutching his chest dramatically. “Ouch, Big Mac. Family don’t need an invite.” With a smirk, he grabbed a bottle from their stash and twisted the cap off.
Applejack, rolling her eyes but smiling slightly, chimed in. “Just let him drink, Big Mac. He ain’t goin’ anywhere, and we ain’t got the patience to deal with him and the cider.”
Grinning, Bad Apple leaned back, taking a long gulp of cider. As the familiar taste filled his mouth, he couldn’t help but comment. “Still ain’t got enough kick, though. You ever think about uppin’ the alcohol in this stuff?”
Applejack frowned. “You know why we can’t. Equestrian Agricultural Regulations don’t allow us to raise it higher. If we did, we’d be violatin’ the law, and those regulators would come down on us faster than a zap apple harvest.”
Big Mac nodded, setting his bottle down. “We’ve got rules to follow. We can’t mess with the process just to make it stronger.”
Bad Apple scoffed. “You’re sittin’ on a product that could be even better. If you upped the alcohol content, you’d have more ponies comin’ back for it. Ponies love a good hard cider, but this? It’s barely got a bite.”
Applejack shot him a look. “This ain’t about makin’ it stronger for the sake of it. Ponies love it because it’s the best cider in Equestria. We make it the way Great-Great Granny Applebark taught us. Stickin’ to tradition is what keeps us goin’.”
Big Mac chimed in. “And besides, we ain’t even usin’ the original recipe anymore. Back in the day, they made it in bathtubs during the prohibition, and if we did that now, we’d have ponies goin’ blind.”
Applejack snorted. “Yeah, you try brewin’ it like we used to, and the Equestrian Agricultural Regulations—or EAR, as you love to call ‘em—would finally have somethin’ to complain about. That’s why we keep the cider regulated.”
Bad Apple chuckled, clearly enjoying the pushback but not backing down. “Maybe here in Equestria, but what about outside? Dragon Lands or Griffonstone? They’re not so picky about alcohol content. You’re sittin’ on a market that’s waitin’ for a good, strong cider.”
Applejack blinked, caught off guard by the idea. “Griffonstone? Dragon Lands? We’ve never sold that far.”
Big Mac frowned, his voice steady but uncertain. “That’s a lot of territory. Not to mention, we’ve got the deal with Filthy Rich’s family to consider.”
Bad Apple’s grin faded slightly as he leaned back, crossing his hooves. “Ah, yes. The deal with the Rich family. Always keepin’ you from expandin’, aren’t they?”
Applejack smirked, pointing her hoof at Bad Apple. “You said it before, and I’ll say it again: don’t push your luck, Bad Apple.”
Bad Apple’s grin widened as Applejack defended Filthy Rich a little too quickly.
“Filthy’s respectable, huh?” he said, his voice teasing. “Applejack, do you still have a crush on him or somethin’? Didn’t know you were into married stallions.”
Applejack’s cheeks flushed red, her voice rising as she snapped back. “I ain’t, and I never was!”
Bad Apple chuckled, leaning forward. “Come on, sis. You were always hangin’ around us just to be near him. You followed him so much, everypony thought you were one of the colts. It was obvious to everypony.”
Applejack scowled, her face burning with embarrassment. “That was a long time ago! And anyway, it’s his wife that’s the real piece of work. You know I wouldn’t ruin a marriage, not even if it’s with her.”
Bad Apple raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Ah, now we’re talkin’ about her. Didn’t realize that’s what was keepin’ you from Filthy.”
“Shut up, Bad Apple!” Applejack shot back, the venom in her voice barely contained.
Big Mac, not the least bit surprised by the exchange, simply smirked, taking another sip of cider and staying out of the line of fire.
Bad Apple leaned back, his grin spreading wide as he watched her squirm. “All I’m sayin’ is, everypony knew about your little crush back then.”
Applejack huffed, grabbing her bottle and taking a long drink, trying to wash away the embarrassment that was clear as day on her flushed face.
The laughter from Bad Apple hung in the cool night air, but the tension was thickening. Applejack, cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger, was standing firm, but her patience was wearing thin. Bad Apple’s teasing had gone on long enough.
“Y’know, Applejack,” Bad Apple continued, his voice dripping with mockery, “I don’t know why you’re gettin’ so riled up. Maybe you’ve got somethin’ to hide after all.”
Applejack’s hoof stomped hard into the dirt, her eyes blazing. “I said shut up, Bad Apple!” Her voice echoed through the trees, sharp and fierce.
Big Mac, who had been sitting on a nearby log, shifted his weight, his usually calm expression now clouded with frustration. He turned his gaze toward Bad Apple, his jaw set. “You’re pushin’ it, Bad Apple. You always gotta stir things up.”
Bad Apple chuckled, completely unfazed. “Oh, come on, Big Mac. Don’t act like you don’t remember. She used to get all worked up over Filthy Rich. Ain’t no harm in a little reminiscin’.”
Applejack stepped forward, her muscles tight with barely restrained anger. “This ain’t the ‘old days,’ Bad Apple, and if you don’t keep that mouth shut, you’re gonna regret it.”
Big Mac stood up beside her, his large frame towering in the dim light of the lantern. His voice, usually calm, had an edge to it now. “You’re crossin’ a line.”
Bad Apple didn’t flinch, his grin turning sharp, his tone mocking. “Oh, I didn’t realize y’all were so sensitive these days. What’s the matter? Can’t handle the truth?”
Applejack’s nostrils flared as she took another step toward him, her hooves digging into the dirt. “I’m warnin’ you.”
Bad Apple straightened, his smirk never leaving his face as he locked eyes with her. “Or what?”
The tension between the three of them crackled like a live wire. Big Mac’s hooves dug into the ground, his muscles tight as he stood next to Applejack, ready for whatever might happen next. The cool night air felt heavier now, the orchard around them quiet, as if waiting for the storm to break.
Hooves slammed into flesh. Grunts of pain, the dull thud of hits landing, and the sound of bodies crashing into the dirt filled the night air. The fight had devolved into an all-out brawl, fists swinging with no restraint.
There was no more holding back—no calculated moves or careful dodges. Applejack, Big Mac, and Bad Apple were tangled in a whirlwind of punches, kicks, and headbutts. Every hit landed with the weight of years of frustration, anger, and sibling rivalry.
They grappled, crashed into trees, and tumbled to the ground only to get back up and swing again. The moon hung high overhead, watching silently as the hours dragged on and none of them were willing to give in.
Time blurred. There were no words, just the sound of hooves connecting with flesh, the occasional grunt of pain, and the shuffling of dirt and grass beneath their hooves. Exhaustion set in, but neither side was willing to back down. Sweat poured from them, mixing with dirt and blood as they traded blow after blow.
At some point, the fighting slowed. Breaths came in heavy gasps, limbs aching with fatigue. All three of them were bruised, battered, and barely standing. Applejack landed a final weak punch against Bad Apple’s chest, and he stumbled back, but not with the same strength he’d had hours ago.
Finally, they collapsed.
Applejack lay on the ground, her chest heaving, one eye swollen into a nasty black bruise. Big Mac sat nearby, wiping blood from his busted lip with the back of his hoof, his broad shoulders rising and falling with every breath. And Bad Apple—his suit now ripped in multiple places, his once-pristine coat smeared with dirt and his body covered in bruises—leaned back against a tree, wincing as he breathed in.
For a moment, there was silence. The only sound was their labored breathing, each of them too sore and too exhausted to move.
Then, out of nowhere, Applejack let out a weak chuckle. Big Mac followed, a low laugh rumbling in his chest despite the blood on his lip. Within seconds, all three of them were laughing—really laughing, like they used to when they were kids. The kind of laughter that came after they’d beaten each other senseless over something silly.
Bad Apple wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth, his grin wide. “Y’all feel better now that you got to beat on your big brother?”
Without hesitation, both Applejack and Big Mac answered in unison. “Yes.”
“Absolutely,” Applejack added, her voice breathless but full of satisfaction. “Your mouth’s always gotten you into trouble.”
Big Mac nodded, a grin spreading despite the pain. “Yup. Never knew when to shut up.”
Bad Apple laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, wasn’t the only reason I got into trouble.”
The laughter died down, and for a moment, they just sat there in the quiet of the orchard, breathing heavily and staring up at the night sky. The fight had drained them, but there was a sense of release in the air—like some old wound had finally been given the chance to heal, even if it left bruises behind.
Bad Apple groaned, wincing as he shifted against the tree. “Granny Smith’s gonna kill us all when she sees our faces. Ain’t no way we’re getting back into the house without her noticing.”
Applejack laughed again, though it was softer this time. “Yeah… she’ll tan our hides for sure. Ain’t no hidin’ these bruises.”
They shared another brief moment of laughter, their battered bodies aching with every breath, but the tension between them had finally started to ease.
Then, just as the laughter began to die down, Applejack straightened up, the humor fading from her face as her eyes turned serious. She glanced over at Bad Apple, her swollen eye narrowing as she caught her breath.
“Bad Apple,” she said, her voice quieter now, but firm, “what really happened? In the cave, I mean. Not what we were told, not what the lawyers said… what really happened? How did Mom and Dad die?”
The question cut through the quiet night like a knife. The orchard went dead silent.
Big Mac’s grin faded immediately, his eyes shifting from Applejack to Bad Apple. The lightness of their laughter vanished, replaced by the weight of something that had hung over them all for years.
Bad Apple’s smirk dropped, his expression hardening as he stared at the ground, the bruises on his body now seeming a lot heavier. For a long moment, none of them said a word.
The truth, the one they hadn’t heard, was waiting to be spoken.
Bad Apple sat there, bruised and beaten, but still managing to wear that same cocky smirk. Only now, something shifted behind his eyes. He looked at Applejack and Big Mac, and for the first time, they couldn’t recognize the look on his face. It wasn’t defiance or arrogance—it was something much deeper, something they weren’t sure they wanted to see.
Without a word, Bad Apple reached into his pocket, his hoof coming out with a crushed pack of cigarettes. He glanced down at it, then sighed, shaking his head. The pack was crumpled, but not entirely ruined. He pulled one out, stuck it between his lips, and flicked his lighter. The soft click-click of the flame ignited the tip, and he took a long drag, exhaling a cloud of multicolored smoke that lingered in the air.
The silence stretched on before Bad Apple finally spoke, his voice quiet, almost tired. “Why do you really wanna know?” He took another drag, the smoke curling out around him. “It ain’t gonna make anything better, bein’ honest. In fact, I’m pretty damn sure it’ll make things worse. Y’all spent years not knowin’ the truth. What good’s it gonna do now?”
Applejack’s face hardened, her voice firm but heavy with the weight of her words. “Because you owe us that. And I can’t forgive you without knowin’ what happened. Even if you did somethin’ wrong, I’d rather hate you for what you did than spend the rest of my life wonderin’ if it was you, or Mom, or Dad that messed up.” Her voice cracked a little, but she pushed through. “I haven’t slept right in years, Bad Apple. Not knowin’... it’s eatin’ me alive.”
The words hung in the air, and Big Mac, always the quieter one, nodded. His jaw was tight, his eyes full of that same unspoken need to know the truth.
Bad Apple took another long drag from his cigarette, the multicolored smoke swirling around him, then let out a slow sigh. When he finally spoke again, his usual cocky drawl was gone, replaced by the thick, raw sound of his true country accent. The accent he hadn’t used in years. “Alright, AJ. Alright, Mac. I’ll tell ya what happened. No lies. No trickery.”
He took one last deep drag from his cigarette, the smoke leaving his lungs in a slow, deliberate stream. “You know I was fightin’ in the diamond dog pits for cash.”
His hoof went to his jacket, and with slow, deliberate movements, Bad Apple began unbuttoning it. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he slid out of the suit he wore like armor. The leather, once pristine, now hung loose, battered from years of use and abuse. As the jacket fell to the ground, both Applejack and Big Mac could finally see what had been hidden beneath it.
Scars.
The glamour that had been woven into the jacket faded away, and what lay beneath was a patchwork of old wounds, crisscrossing his body like a roadmap of pain. Deep gashes lined his torso and legs, faded but unmistakable. His once-shiny black coat was marred with rough, jagged lines—evidence of countless battles fought and survived. The scars ran down the length of his body, wrapping around his ribs, his sides, and even across his flank.
The most shocking scar was the one that cut through his cutie mark, a deep gash slashed across the black apple that marked his destiny.
Applejack and Big Mac stared in stunned silence, their eyes wide as they took in the sight of him. This was the first time they had ever seen him like this, stripped down, vulnerable in a way they had never imagined.
Bad Apple took another drag from his cigarette, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. “Before you ask… yeah. I knew about the smugglin’. Knew about all of it. I just didn’t care, ‘cause I was too busy makin’ bits.”
He flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette, staring up at the stars for a moment before exhaling slowly. “Y’all ready for this?”
The orchard was dead quiet. No wind, no rustling leaves—just the heavy silence that comes before something that can’t be undone. Applejack and Big Mac said nothing, but their eyes told him everything he needed to know.
Bad Apple nodded, letting the cigarette dangle from his lips as he blew out another slow stream of smoke. “Alright then.”
He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the tree, and when he opened them again, he wasn’t in the orchard anymore. He was back in the past—back in the dark, smoky pits where blood was spilled for sport and bits.
The memory flooded back in like a wave, pulling him under.
Bad Apple stood over a griffon, his chest heaving, his hooves slick with blood. His breath was ragged, sharp gasps that echoed in his ears, mixing with the roaring cheers of the crowd. The diamond dogs howled, their voices rough and full of greed as they threw their paws into the air, bits exchanging claws in the stands.
He looked down at the griffon beneath him, beaten and bloodied, barely conscious. His hooves hurt—aching from the repeated blows he had thrown—but he didn’t feel anything. Not anymore. This was just how it went.
The crowd screamed for more.
Another fight, another round of blood spilled for coin. The smell of sweat and iron filled the air, thick and suffocating, as Bad Apple stood victorious in the center of the pit. He felt the adrenaline coursing through his veins, making his heart pound like thunder in his chest.
And yet, something about this fight felt different.
Chapter 7: A Glimpse of Fire
Chapter 7: A Glimpse of Fire
Bad Apple lay sprawled on the dingy cot, his body aching with every shallow breath. The room smelled of sweat, blood, and damp stone, the underground air heavy with humidity. His wounds, sluggishly closing on their own, left faint trails of steam as his magic worked to mend his battered flesh. He coughed hard, spitting blood onto the floor—it hissed as if boiling on impact.
"Celestia," he muttered, voice rough as gravel. "Almost overdid it." His tongue swiped over a split lip. "That bastard Griffin. Damn near went for my eyes." He exhaled sharply, wincing as his ribs protested. "Hope they ain't dead. Nah, they were still breathin'... reckon their wings ain’t busted neither."
He shifted, staring at the stained curtain separating him from the rest of the makeshift infirmary. Movement beyond it caught his eye, subtle but unmistakable. He wasn’t alone. Someone had been lingering there for a while, waiting—watching. He narrowed his eyes.
Could be three options, he thought grimly. A slave, the doc... or—
"Ahhh, what a fight! " a voice interrupted, slick and oily, dripping with mockery. "The blood, the tears, the crunch of hooves on Griffin beak! What a show, pony. What a soul you’ve got there!"
The curtain swished aside to reveal a Diamond Dog bedecked in gaudy finery. His golden fangs gleamed as he grinned wide, his fur patchy but well-groomed. Every inch of him sparkled—rings on his clawed fingers, jewels inlaid into his leather vest, a gold chain dangling loosely around his neck.
"Bling," Bad Apple grumbled, slowly pushing himself upright despite the protests of his healing body. "Where’s my damn bits?"
Bling’s grin faltered momentarily, but only long enough to shift into something more calculated. He sauntered closer, his claws clicking against the stone floor. "Ah, yes, yes, pony’s bits. Always so impatient." His voice carried the telltale Diamond Dog accent, but it was smoother, almost serpentine. He produced a small bag from somewhere within his ornate vest and tossed it casually onto the cot.
Bad Apple eyed the bag with suspicion. "Looks light."
Bling’s smile grew sharper, and he reached into his vest again, producing a second, equally full bag. This one he lobbed with a bit more flair, causing it to land with a satisfying thud . "Happy now? Pony has sharp eyes! Are you sure you’re not half Diamond Dog? Maybe half of a half?"
Bad Apple snorted, his expression unamused. "If I was, I wouldn’t be a half. I’d be a quarter or a third." He gave the Diamond Dog a flat look. "And no, I ain’t got a drop of that mud blood in me. Not somethin’ I’m losin’ sleep over neither."
Bling cackled, slapping his thigh as though it were the funniest thing he’d ever heard. "Ah, but what a shame, pony! If more of you had a little Diamond Dog in you, maybe you'd dig holes better, hmm? Might make your kind more useful."
Bad Apple’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling slightly. "Don’t know why y’all even need ponies diggin’. Thought y’all were supposed to be the best at it. Seems... counterproductive. "
Bling wagged a finger, his grin unwavering. "Ah, but you ponies! You have soft hooves, soft backs. Ponies complain so much about little digging. Makes it entertaining for us. And maybe, just maybe, you dig better when you’re desperate."
The room fell into a tense silence, Bling’s chuckle filling the space. Bad Apple didn’t respond immediately, just leveled him with a hard, unblinking glare. The Diamond Dog scratched at one of his golden fangs, finally breaking the moment. "Well, pony," he said with a mock bow, "your bits are paid. Your wounds are healing, yes? My business here is done."
Bling turned on his heel, the glitter of his back catching the dim lantern light. But as he reached the doorway, he cast a sly look over his shoulder. "But do let me know when you’re ready for your next fight, hmm? You make such a... spectacular mess."
Bad Apple didn’t answer, watching silently as Bling disappeared. He spat another glob of blood onto the floor, listening to it hiss.
"One o’ these days," he muttered to himself, voice low, "that mutt’s gonna bite off more than he can chew."
Bad Apple leaned back on the cot, his legs stretched out as his muscles loosened with each creak of the worn Stone beneath him. The two heavy sacks of bits sat within reach, their presence a strange comfort. He slid them closer with a forehoof, his lips pulling into a contemplative line.
How’m I gonna explain this one? he thought, his eyes narrowing. "Did some extra work for the Rich family" was the first excuse that crossed his mind, but he discarded it just as fast. His dad’d talk to Filthy Rich’s dad at the market, and that lie’d fall apart in no time.
Ma wouldn’t buy it either. She’d already been askin’ too many questions about where he disappeared to on the weekends and how he’d been squirrelin’ away so much money. He groaned softly, the ache in his chest unrelated to his wounds.
Could just say I took on some city work, he mused. But even that meant he’d have to leave Ponyville for real—spend a weekend or two outta sight to make it stick. His mind drifted to the smugglers, the memory surfacing uninvited. The thought of working with them again made his stomach twist. The last job had been profitable—too profitable. But it had also been wrong, the kind of wrong that left a stain he couldn’t wash off.
His jaw tightened, teeth pressing together as the images resurfaced unbidden. The last delivery—a cart of ponies. He’d promised himself never again, no matter how big the payday. He remembered that mare with the blonde mane and familiar green eyes. Applejack’s eyes. His chest twisted with guilt, his teeth grinding until he tasted a faint copper tang.
No. Not that. Never again.
He let out a sharp breath, shaking off the thought as he stared at the worn ceiling. He barely noticed the faint click of nails on stone until a new voice broke the silence.
“Well, well. Champ’s awake,” the voice crooned, raspy but unmistakably feminine, carrying a mocking edge. “Not lookin’ for tender care, are ya? You want that, best stick with yer pony doctors. Not some unlicensed bitch workin’ the pits.”
Bad Apple turned his head and smirked at the silhouette of the Diamond Dog stepping into view. She was smaller than most of her kind, wiry rather than bulky, her patched fur a light sandy color. Her features, though marred with a few faint scars, had a sharper elegance than the usual rough-hewn appearance of her kin.
“Don’t sell yerself short, Tova. Whatever you rubbed on me did the trick,” he drawled, his accent thick with lazy sarcasm.
Tova huffed, crossing her lean forearms with claws idly tapping against her elbows. “Don’t waste flattery on me, pony. I ain’t one o’ those soft mares you chat up in your little village. We both know you’re healin’ fast ‘cause o’ that dragon blood in yer veins, not my care.”
Bad Apple chuckled low, wincing slightly as the motion tugged at his side. “Ain’t as special as you think. Wouldn’t work so good if you hadn’t sprinkled somethin’ fancy on me.” He sniffed the faintly lingering scent of the salve on his coat. “Could smell the sapphire in it.”
Tova’s lips curled into a smirk as she walked closer, her claws clicking lightly. “Don’t thank me. Thank Bling. He told me to fix ya up good. Wouldn’t waste our best stuff on just any fighter.”
“Guess it’s good to be the champ then,” Bad Apple quipped, his smirk sharpening.
Tova let out a dry chuckle as she invaded his space, her sharp yellow eyes scanning his wounds. She leaned close, tilting her head. “Most of it’s healed,” she murmured, her voice softening slightly as she tapped a claw near his split lip without touching it. “That one? That’ll take a bit longer. Any normal pony’d be stitched up by now, but you...” She trailed off, a note of curiosity coloring her tone.
“Weird, ain’t it?” Bad Apple muttered, watching her expression.
Tova smirked, her gaze meeting his as she tilted his chin slightly. “Gonna tell me which fool pony got themselves under a dragon to make you?”
He jerked his head back, scowling. “Not how it happened.”
“Touchy,” she teased, holding up a paw in mock surrender. “Just jokin’, pony.”
“No, you weren’t,” he shot back before calming himself with a long exhale. He rested his head against the cot, closing his eyes. “Like I said before. Mad doc tampered with ponies, spiked ‘em with dragon blood. Most of ‘em didn’t make it. The ones that did...” His voice trailed off, eyes opening to meet hers. “Well, here I am. Guessin’ the success rate wasn’t great.”
Tova snorted, retreating to her cluttered workbench. “Ha! If that was real, your doc’d be a hero. A genius. Pity experiments like that ain’t legal, huh?”
“Yeah, pity,” Bad Apple murmured with bitter sarcasm, shifting until his back popped. “And the only one outta the litter that got these ‘abilities’? Me. If that tells ya anythin’.”
Tova paused, her claws idly rolling a small vial of sparkling liquid. “Fair point. Though maybe you’ve been hangin’ with us too long. You’re startin’ to sound like a Diamond Dog.”
Bad Apple chuckled low, watching her lithe frame from where he rested. Her build was compact but well-formed, her movements efficient and quick. There weren’t many scars on her, not for a pit medic—maybe she was smarter than most of her kind. His blood stirred faintly, a familiar heat boiling beneath his skin. He forced himself to calm, swallowing the urge down as he muttered, “So, no scars?”
Tova glanced over her shoulder, her voice matter-of-fact. “None. That bird didn’t get through that ridiculous hide o’ yours. Split lip’s about it.”
“Guess I should be grateful.”
“Guess so,” Tova replied, returning to her workbench with a faint smirk lingering on her lips.
Bad Apple couldn’t help himself. His eyes trailed over Tova’s toned form, from the subtle flex of her lean legs to the idle wag of her sword-like tail. She moved with precision, her every action sharp and deliberate, a stark contrast to the bulky, clumsy Diamond Dogs he’d grown used to. When she flicked her bloodstained doctor’s coat aside to reach for something, it gave him the briefest glimpse of her tight, glistening—
“Whoa there, whoa there!” Applejack’s voice cut in, loud and sharp. Her freckled face was already turning as red as one of Granny’s prized apples. “Ain’t no reason to go that deep, Bad Apple! Celestia’s sake, we don’t need ta know what you’re into!”
Her expression twisted as though she’d just bitten into a rotten apple. “Diamond Dogs, though? Really? Don’t know how ya even find ‘em attractive. They remind me too much o’ Winona when she’s all muddy and matted!”
Big Mac, who’d been quietly sitting off to the side, hid his amusement behind a hoof, his green eyes twinkling as he threw Applejack a sly look.
Bad Apple rolled his eyes, leaning back lazily. His polished tone carried just a hint of his old accent, like a ghost of Sweet Apple Acres haunting his words. “You’re still squeamish about sex talk, AJ? Seriously, how old are you now?”
Applejack fidgeted, glancing away as she muttered, “Ain’t got nothin’ ta do with age, you ornery—”
Bad Apple’s smirk widened, cutting her off. “Hold up a minute,” he drawled, letting his voice slip into an exaggerated parody of their childhood twang. “Don’t tell me you’re still a virgin, Applejack.”
Applejack’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, her whole body stiffening like she’d been caught buckin’ the wrong tree. “I—no! Course I ain’t!” she blurted, her voice cracking slightly as she forced a nervous grin. “Had plenty o’ stallion dick!”
The awkwardness of her delivery hit like a buck to the ribs. Bad Apple raised an eyebrow, utterly unconvinced. Her terrible lying had always been her undoing.
“Oh really?” he said smoothly, glancing toward Big Mac with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Hey, Big Mac. You ever seen Applejack with any stallions? Or mares, for that matter?”
Applejack’s face turned an even deeper shade of crimson, her jaw dropping. The scandalized look on her face made Big Mac’s lips twitch as he fought to suppress a laugh. After a moment’s pause, he deadpanned, “Nope.”
And that was all it took. Bad Apple broke into laughter, the sound rich and full, while Big Mac chuckled low and slow, clearly enjoying his sister’s mortified silence.
Applejack’s patience snapped like a twig under pressure. She lunged forward and smacked Bad Apple’s shoulder with enough force to rock him slightly. “Ow!” he barked, though the grin never left his face.
“That’s what ya get fer bein’ a jerk,” Applejack huffed, crossing her hooves indignantly.
“Alright, alright,” Bad Apple said, waving a hoof as his laughter finally started to die down. “But next time, don’t interrupt me, and maybe you won’t have to deal with my colorful commentary.” He winked, and Applejack grumbled under her breath, her ears still burning.
Big Mac leaned back, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips as Applejack muttered, “Jus’ finish your stupid story already.”
Bad Apple stretched his legs out, the pop of his joints audible as he settled back into his storytelling mode. He closed his eyes briefly, letting his mind drift back to the memory he’d been recounting.
Tova’s sharp, raspy voice and the flick of her tail filled his senses again, the faint scent of sapphire in the air grounding him as the flashback surged forward like a wave.
“Still here, pony?” Tova teased, her voice lilting with amusement. She turned from her workstation, a deviant smirk curling across her muzzle. “You finally ready to roll in the hay with me?”
Bad Apple felt his cheeks warm despite himself. He stood quickly, brushing off his embarrassment with a shake of his mane. “Maybe another time,” he replied coolly, trying to sound nonchalant as he made his way toward the exit, a curtain marking the cage’s entrance.
Behind him, Tova giggled, the sound soft and raspy. She barked sharply, catching his attention just before he pushed the curtain aside. “Oh! Don’t head to the third cave—it collapsed earlier. You’ll need to go around. The path’ll take you closer to the Everfree entrance.”
Bad Apple let out a heavy sigh, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “At least tell me there’s someone guardin’ the entrance outside. Don’t wanna deal with those wooden mutts again, or worse, end up with more rumors about me sneakin’ around the Everfree. Last time, ponies started talkin’ ‘bout rituals and dark magic after I had to fight through a pack of Timberwolves.”
Tova chuckled darkly, her teeth flashing as she leaned casually against the table. “Cryin’ about a few wooden wolves? It’s not like their teeth can even pierce your skin, champ.”
Bad Apple rolled his eyes, his tone dry. “True, but that sticky sap they call blood gets everywhere. Try scrubbin’ it off after—it’s worse than pitch. Besides, I don’t even know why they have it, seein’ as they reform themselves anyway.”
Tova smirked, a low chuckle rumbling in her throat. “You’ll live. But, yes, there’re a couple of the new recruits guarding the entrance. They’ve got a fire goin’ to keep the wolves away. Quit yer whining.”
Before he could respond, she slapped his flank with her paw, the sharp smack ringing out in the cavern. “Now get moving, pony,” she said, already turning back to her lab without a second glance.
Bad Apple shot her a sideways smirk as he adjusted his posture. “Tell ya what—next time I come down here, let’s grab a drink together.”
Tova didn’t even turn around, her voice clipped and teasing. “Win your next fight first. I don’t drink with losers.”
He barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he pushed through the curtain.
The path ahead was dimly lit by torches spaced unevenly along the walls, casting jagged shadows that danced across the rough stone. Bad Apple walked with a confident gait, his smirk lingering until a sudden sound shattered the stillness—a crack of a whip, followed by a sharp cry.
His steps faltered, and he turned his head just enough to catch sight of the collapsed tunnel. Two ponies—exhausted, dirt-streaked, and trembling—were digging at the rubble with their bare hooves. Their frantic movements were painfully ineffective, a pitiful attempt to clear the debris.
Bad Apple clenched his jaw, forcing his gaze forward. He quickened his pace, trying to ignore the burning stares he could feel on his back, the quiet accusation in their eyes.
It’s just bits, he told himself. Don’t think about it. Just get out.
But the image of their bloodied hooves and hollow stares stuck in his mind, trailing after him like ghosts as he made his way toward the exit.
The cavern widened as he neared the mouth of the tunnel. A faint glow from the fire outside spilled inward, casting long, flickering shadows. Before he could step out, two Diamond Dogs blocked his path, their spears crossed in front of him.
The first, a hulking brute with thick, patchy armor, growled low and deep, his yellow eyes glaring down at the pony. The second was slightly smaller, wiry but still intimidating, his mismatched armor clinking as he shifted.
“Where do you think you’re goin’, pony?” the larger one rumbled, his voice rough and menacing.
Bad Apple stopped, snapping out of his thoughts as he looked up at them both. “Out,” he replied simply, his tone steady but laced with just enough Canterlot refinement to remind them he wasn’t fazed.
The smaller dog sneered, his grip tightening on his spear. “Not so fast. You think we just let you walk outta here?”
Bad Apple simply grunted, his patience hanging by a thread. He lifted his head, his emerald eyes shifting into sharp, slitted dragon pupils. He fixed the two Diamond Dogs with a glare that seemed to cut through the cold night air. “Less you want to be fertilizer for this forest,” he growled, his tone low and dangerous, “move outta my way.”
Both Diamond Dogs immediately recognized him and stumbled back, ears flattening against their heads.
“Oh! Sorry, champ!” the larger one barked, lowering his spear with a nervous gulp. “Didn’t mean to disturb ya! Have a good night!”
“Yeah, yeah,” the smaller one added, stepping aside hurriedly.
Bad Apple wasn’t in the mood for more conflict. He closed his eyes, letting his breath even out as he calmed himself. The fiery tension simmering in his veins ebbed slightly, though he couldn’t help but notice his sharper fangs as his tongue brushed against them. Breathing out into the cold night air, he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke-like vapor, momentarily shrouding his face.
“Not a big deal,” he muttered to himself as he resumed his walk, glancing up at the night sky. The stars twinkled brightly against the inky black canvas, and the moon hung heavy and luminous, casting silvery light across the forest. Bad Apple let a small smile curl at the edges of his lips. “Good to see the sky again,” he murmured.
The thought of the mare in the moon flickered in his mind, but he shook it off and focused on the path ahead. His trek brought him closer to home—closer to the west orchard, which he could use to sneak back unnoticed. He broke into a gallop, his hooves pounding softly against the dirt.
fifteen minutes minutes later, Bad Apple slowed to a cautious pace, moving silently through the familiar rows of trees. The rich scent of apples and earth filled the crisp night air as he guessed the time—probably around midnight. His gaze landed on the farmhouse, dark and quiet, its lights out, a clear sign everyone was asleep.
His ears twitched as he listened intently, ensuring the coast was clear. Satisfied, he moved toward the house, slipping around to the back. His heart lightened slightly when he spotted his bedroom window still open. Good, he thought. Means no one’s been in there. I can just say I’ve been in my room all night.
Bad Apple scanned the yard one last time before crouching low. With a small bounce to test his spring, he leapt straight up, his hooves catching the edge of the window frame. He pulled himself up with practiced ease, a cocky smile crossing his face—until he saw her.
His mother, Pear Butter, was sitting in the shadows of his room, her face lit only faintly by the moonlight streaming in. She was staring at him with a frown that could make even Big Mac think twice about talking back.
Bad Apple froze for a moment, then quickly recovered with his usual bravado. He flashed a sheepish grin and chuckled nervously. “Well, what brings you ‘round these parts at this hour, young lady?” he quipped, tipping an imaginary hat.
Pear Butter didn’t laugh. She didn’t even smile. Her piercing gaze swept over him, catching every detail—the split lip, the faint scratches on his coat, the lingering scent of blood and sweat clinging him.
Her silence was deafening. Bad Apple fidgeted, hoisting himself the rest of the way through the window and onto the creaky wooden floor. His eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of his pa, Bright Mac. But there was none. Either he was still asleep, or he was waiting just outside the door, ready to lay into him the second he stepped out.
Pear Butter’s glare remained unyielding, her lips pressed into a thin line. She glanced out the window, taking note of the late hour, and let out a slow sigh. Finally, she moved to sit on the edge of his bed, her expression softening slightly—but only slightly. She didn’t say a word, but her gesture made her intention clear.
Bad Apple swallowed hard, the usual swagger draining from him. He sat down beside her, the bed creaking under their weight. The silence between them stretched uncomfortably, thick as molasses.
Pear Butter’s gaze lingered on her son, her soft green eyes full of concern. Her frown deepened as she took in the sight of his split lip and the faint scratches marking his coat. Then her attention dropped to the two bulging pouches he’d brought with him, their weight unmistakable—they were either full of bits or something equally valuable.
Her ears flicked slightly as she spoke, her voice firm but tinged with worry. “Are you gonna finally tell me where you’ve been sneakin’ off to?”
Bad Apple’s eyes darted away, avoiding her piercing stare. He’d always been a good liar, but something about his ma made it impossible to lie outright. So instead, he didn’t respond, letting the silence hang heavy in the room.
Pear Butter’s ears tilted back slightly, a subtle tell of her frustration. She let out a slow breath, nodding to herself as though coming to a decision. “Wait right here,” she said simply, turning and trotting out of the room.
As soon as she was gone, Bad Apple released the heavy breath he’d been holding. He took a moment to collect himself before leaning down and sliding the pouches under his bed. The familiar pile of gold and jewels greeted him, barely fitting into the cramped space anymore. Gonna have to start buryin’ this stuff out in the orchard again, he thought grimly.
His parents knew about the stash under his bed—how could they not? They’d asked about it before, but he’d always refused to explain. Just as stubbornly, they’d refused to take the bits, no matter how much the family could’ve used them.
Still, he’d found ways around their refusal. Two years ago, he realized he didn’t need their permission to pay for things—repairs to the barn, new equipment for the orchard, even an extension on the house. He’d slip the bits where they were needed and let the tax ponies handle the rest. Sure, his parents had argued about it with the local officials once or twice, but the nobles and tax collectors didn’t care where the money came from, so long as it came.
Sliding the last pouch into place, Bad Apple climbed back onto the bed, ready to collapse into much-needed rest. But before his head could hit the pillow, the door creaked open again. His ma stepped back inside, balancing a well-worn first aid kit on her back.
“You can’t go to sleep with open wounds,” she said matter-of-factly as she made her way to his bedside. “Even if most of ‘em will heal by mornin’.”
She sat down beside the bed, deftly pulling the kit open with her muzzle and retrieving a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. Bad Apple flinched as she dabbed it against the first cut, the sting biting deep into his nerves.
“Don’t squirm,” Pear Butter said with a smirk, her tone teasing. “You’re big enough to get these cuts and bruises, but not big enough to take care of ‘em yourself, huh?”
Bad Apple rolled his eyes, muttering, “I was doin’ just fine.”
His ma chuckled softly, her smirk growing wider. “Sure ya were, sugarcube.” She worked methodically, cleaning each wound with care, even as Bad Apple hissed through clenched teeth at the sting of the alcohol.
Her hooves moved with practiced ease, steady and sure, as though she’d done this a hundred times before—which, of course, she had. But there was a tenderness in her movements, a quiet understanding that said she wasn’t just tending to her son’s injuries—she was grounding him, pulling him back to the home he seemed so determined to keep slipping away from.
As she continued, Pear Butter’s gaze flicked briefly to his split lip. She dabbed at it gently, her voice softening. “You know, I used to clean up your pa after his scraps, too. Stubborn stallions, both of ya.”
Bad Apple let out a faint snort, leaning back against the headboard as he watched her work. For a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased, the weight of the night fading under the careful touch of his mother’s hooves.
Pear Butter let out a long, quiet sigh, her green eyes softening as they lingered on her wayward colt. Bad Apple sat still, watching her carefully, but he could see her gaze drifting—not at him, but through the window, out into the dark expanse of the orchard. Her expression seemed distant, like she was reaching for something far away, something secret and untouchable.
A small, bittersweet smile crept across her muzzle before she spoke. “Have I ever told you about when you were born?”
Bad Apple shifted slightly on the bed. He’d heard this story more times than he could count, but he didn’t interrupt her. She’d been telling it more and more lately, as though clinging to it, and he didn’t have the heart to stop her.
When he didn’t respond, Pear Butter continued, her voice gentle and steady. “When you were born, I could tell right away you were a fighter. You fought when the doctors told me you weren’t gonna make it. Sixteen months later, I had you anyway. You fought through all the complications, all the problems. You fought the day you came into this world…”
She paused, her smile faltering slightly as her eyes glistened with something deeper. “Even when we didn’t believe you’d make it, you fought. You were born with four strong hooves and one stubborn muzzle.” She let out a soft chuckle, though the sadness lingered in her gaze. “Even when you had that fever—so high, we thought a dragon was cookin’ you from the inside out—you fought through it all.”
Bad Apple remained quiet, his ears tilted back slightly as he listened.
“I prayed,” Pear Butter said softly, her voice growing quieter. “I prayed to Celestia. I prayed to Harmony. I prayed to the Great Mother herself. I would’ve prayed to Discord, too, if I thought it’d save you.”
Her voice hitched briefly, but she pushed through. “Your pops… he ran out of the house, galloped who-knows-where. Two days later, he came back with a doctor—one I’d never seen before. For two whole days, it was just you fightin’. You fought harder than any foal I’ve ever seen.”
Her smile returned, warm and proud, though her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “That doctor saved your life. At the time, I didn’t care where he’d come from or why—I was just so relieved you were alive. But, I’ll admit, I almost bucked your pops’ teeth in for leavin’ us like that. Granny Smith’s tongue-lashin’ was worse than any hoof I could’ve swung, though.”
Pear Butter chuckled softly, shaking her head at the memory before her expression grew serious again. “I didn’t learn the truth about that doctor until later. He called you ‘perfect,’ cried about you bein’ a ‘success.’ I didn’t understand it back then. But when Celestia came sniffin’ around and the whole hullabaloo started, I learned more than I ever wanted to.”
She paused, her voice turning thoughtful. “Your father told me the doctor was a good pony… but one willin’ to make bad decisions. At the time, I couldn’t see it. I was angry. But now? Now I think I understand what he was thinkin’. Even if I’m not happy about it, I’m grateful. You’re here, and that’s what matters.”
Her eyes softened as she leaned closer, brushing a hoof gently against Bad Apple’s mane. “From the moment you were born, you’ve been a fighter. You fight when somepony badmouths the farm, the family, or your brother and sister. You fight about nothin’ and everythin’. And while I admire your fire, sometimes… sometimes fightin’ ain’t the answer.”
Bad Apple blinked, his ears perking up slightly as his mother’s words sank in.
Pear Butter’s tone grew firmer but never lost its warmth. “Sometimes, sugarcube, you gotta stand tall without swingin’ a hoof. Show ‘em your strength by not fightin’. Show ‘em your values mean more than winnin’ a scrap. Sometimes you gotta talk. Sometimes…” She hesitated, her lips pressing into a small line before continuing. “Sometimes you gotta admit you were wrong. Maybe even grovel a little, if it comes to it.”
Her hoof cupped his cheek gently, her green eyes meeting his with a look so full of love it made his chest ache. “It’s strong to fight for what you believe in. But it’s even stronger to know when not to fight. I hope you’ll remember that.”
Before Bad Apple could reply, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, her lips lingering for just a moment. Then she straightened, smoothing out her mane as she turned toward the door.
Pear Butter stopped briefly in the doorway, glancing back at her son. Her expression was softer now, almost wistful. “Goodnight, sugarcube,” she said quietly before stepping out and closing the door behind her.
Bad Apple stared at the closed door for a long moment, his mother’s words swirling in his mind. He let out a deep breath, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he processed the weight of what she’d said.
Bright Mac sat in bed with a book resting against his forelegs, the flickering light of the lantern casting soft shadows across the room. His eyes moved lazily over the page, but his ears perked up at the sound of the door creaking open. He looked up as Pear Butter stepped in, her mane slightly disheveled but her smile warm as ever.
“Evenin’, darlin’,” he drawled, setting the book aside as she trotted over.
“Evenin’,” she replied, slipping under the covers and snuggling up next to him. She nuzzled his neck affectionately, and he leaned into her touch, though his smile faltered slightly.
He tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “Reckon you were talkin’ with him again?”
Pear Butter’s smile didn’t fade as she looked up into his eyes. “I was,” she said simply.
Bright Mac exhaled through his nose, a faint huff of steam puffing into the cool air. “Am I gonna have to sit him down myself?” he asked, his tone caught somewhere between frustration and concern.
Pear Butter let out a soft chuckle, her voice light with teasing warmth. “No, you’re not. You know how that’d go. You’d try to have words, but by the time y’all finished hollerin’, Applejack’d come rushin’ in with tears in her eyes. You’d feel lower than a rattler in a gopher hole and end up givin’ her whatever she wanted just to calm her down.”
Bright Mac’s ears flicked back, and he looked away with a sheepish grunt. “You don’t think I can put a firm hoof on that colt?”
Pear Butter giggled softly, shaking her head. “You ain’t your paw or your ma, Mac. You’ve never raised a hoof to any o’ these foals, and you know it.”
Bright Mac sighed, his voice growing quieter. “Back when he was just a little thing, all I had to do was raise my voice or give him a glare, and he’d straighten right up. Now, though…” He paused, his tone firming. “I might need to change my approach—at least with that one.”
Pear Butter reached out with her hooves, gently tilting his chin so he had to look her in the eye. “Mac, we both know Bad Apple’s different. Always has been. Tryin’ to control a pony’s nature… that ain’t what the Great Mother intended. You go against what’s in a pony’s heart, and you’re askin’ for trouble.”
Bright Mac frowned, his green eyes dark with thought. “I hear ya,” he said finally, though his tone still carried a note of hesitation. “I just don’t want him turnin’ into somethin’ he ain’t. Fightin’ all the time for no reason. That colt’s got a temper, Butter. And if he don’t find a better way to use it, it’ll burn him out faster’n a bonfire in a dry season.”
Pear Butter stayed silent, her calm gaze encouraging him to continue.
“Rebellion ain’t the problem,” he went on, leaning back against the headboard. “He’s too grown for his own good, actin’ like he’s the only thing holdin’ this farm together. Another bill gets paid, another harvest’s good, and he still works like there’s Ursa Minors breathin’ down our necks. Ponyville wouldn’t let this farm fall if it meant losin’ their own homes, but he can’t see that.”
Bright Mac let out another sigh, his frustration clear. “Maybe it’s time he sees it for himself. We send him away. Somewhere beyond the farm, beyond this small little town. Let him learn the farm’ll survive just fine without him hangin’ onto it like a colt clutchin’ his favorite toy.”
Pear Butter tilted her head, her ears perking slightly. “Hmm,” she murmured, considering his words. “You think my daddy’s cooled off enough to let Bad Apple come stay for a bit?”
Bright Mac chuckled softly, though there was a faint edge to it. “That old coot should’ve dropped his grudge by now. If not, he’s just bein’ stubborn, and he’ll regret it if he don’t come ‘round.”
Pear Butter snorted, giving him a playful tap on the nose with her hoof. “Don’t call my daddy an old coot,” she chided, though her tone was light and affectionate.
Bright Mac grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Sorry, dear. But I think you’re right. We can talk to Granny in the mornin’—see what she thinks ‘bout sendin’ him off to visit family for a spell.”
Pear Butter nodded, resting her head against his shoulder as the two settled into a comfortable silence. Outside, the wind whispered through the orchard, and the farmhouse creaked gently with the weight of the night.
Three figures stood in the shadows of the Everfree Forest, their gazes fixed on a distant barn illuminated faintly by the moonlight. The first voice broke the silence, a strange, dual-toned murmur that seemed to echo within itself.
“He’s here.”
A second voice, light and airy with a hint of mockery, chimed in. “Really? In this dump?”
“Of course he’s here,” the third voice answered, softer and more melodic, though laced with venom. “Look at this tacky little farm. It reeks of desperation and dirt. A fitting place for him to hide.”
The third figure, larger and more imposing than the others, let out a low, menacing growl. Its voice was deep and guttural, carrying the weight of authority. “It doesn’t matter where he is. The amulet says he’s the one. Our Lord’s words are law, and we are bound to them.”
The dual-toned voice laughed, the sound grating and dissonant. “If he’s destined to join us, why are we wasting our time? They always come to us in the end.”
The melodic voice giggled in agreement, its tone syrupy sweet. “You’re not wrong. They all do. Eventually.”
The third figure turned its head sharply, its gaze piercing through the dense forest. It growled low and long, silencing the others. “Do not be so arrogant. Harmony’s design is unknowable, always twisting and shifting. But our Lord will not be denied—by it or by anything else.”
A solemn pause followed before all three figures spoke in unison, their voices weaving together in a sinister chant.
“For the Lord.”
“For the Lord.”
“For the Lord.”
Author's Note
So friends and people who choose to read my stuff been a little busy with holidays and all of that but don't worry this will be three to two chapters left they should be finished up maybe in the month or the next week 2 months but life is random big sometimes can go back and forth so thanks for reading.
