Where the Fields Are

by Cynewulf

Rating: everyone
Tags: Applejack, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rarity, Romance
Length: 5068

Rarity moves to Canterlot to pursue the oppurtunity of a lifetime, while Applejack longs for home.

Applejack was happy for Rarity, she really was. Moving to Canterlot to pursue a rather unique oppurtunity made sense... but it didn't help her feel any less homesick. As Rarity works on special dresses for the biggest fashion show of the season, Applejack dreams of where the fields are, where the summers are wet and the winters clear.

Happy is she who knows the causes of things--and as Rarity begins to understand the underlying problems with Applejack's discontent, perhaps she can find the right words to say.

Published 2012-10-17 14:20:02 UTC
Last updated 2012-10-17 14:20:02 UTC

O Ubi Campi

Where the Fields Are

As the fields passed by and gave way to hills and mountains, Applejack remembered an old pearl of wisdom her Granny used to tell her: Look with favor upon a bold beginning!

I don’t feel very bold. She grimaced at the window, seeing the faint reflection grimace back. To her eye, it seemed petty, and she sighed and sneaked a peak over at Rarity, who was fast asleep. Applejack snorted in amusement—where’d she even keep that frilly little eye mask thing? Whatever it was, Rarity never seemed to be without little extravagances like this: little accessories and pillows and objects that could only be described with words like “frou-frou.”

Applejack had to admit that she did kind of get the mask, though. With the morning sun pouring through the windows, it was kind of hard to catch your beauty sleep. She sure wished she could. Rarity’s amazing talent for being able to comfortably sleep just about anywhere had been one of those strange, idiosyncratic things that Applejack had learned when she had started spending more nights at the Boutique. Of course, Rarity whined afterwards about her makeshift bedding—no, complaining, she corrected.

Idly, she smiled at the white mare lightly snoring beside her (another secret she’d only learned of after she’d begun to spend nights in the Boutique). All of her gloominess aside, she was happy for Rarity, and awfully proud of her. She still recalled how excited her marefriend had been, two months ago when Fancy Pants had sent that letter inviting her to exhibit her work with the Canterlot Salon. Recalling the blissful, giddy excitement of that late night talk almost made the passing, retreating farms of the valley seem like they weren’t important to her. She could almost forget what lay behind, thinking about how deliriously happy Rarity had been, how alive she had seemed at the opportunity to move to Canterlot.

So she’d grit her teeth—not always metaphorically—and she’d borne it all with Rarity in mind. She’d tried to be enthusiastic as they’d searched for a nice apartment in the middle ring of the city. She’d helped Rarity arrange her studio, and had pecked her on the cheek and said hosts of encouraging things all whilst carrying about a dozen ponniequins. She hadn’t lied—she hadn’t had to. She was excited for Rarity. She did believe in her. Applejack only spoke truth.

But not all of it. She kept the parts of the truth that didn’t need to be dragged into the light hidden.

Applejack’s gaze drifted back out the window. She no longer had to police her facial expressions with Rarity asleep. “Ah miss it already,” she spoke to no one in particular, and removed her prized hat. Placing it beside her, she laid her head against the clear surface and closed her eyes.

She didn’t want to see the scenery. For perhaps the first time in her life, Applejack didn’t care at all about it. It wasn’t Ponyville, and it wasn’t her farm.

By the time they had arrived, Applejack’s demeanor had brightened considerably. Rarity, of course, had noticed no real change, but Applejack had, and now she was determined to at least try and like Canterlot. Twilight had spoken of the city with some fondness before, and Rarity practically treated the place like it was paradise. Surely there was something here she could appreciate.

They’d packed light on this final journey—she hated the sound of that word, final—and the walk to their apartment was a rather short one. Rarity, humming a happy tune, freshened up in the bathroom while Applejack wandered around, getting a feel for the apartment. Yes, she had been here twice before to move things in, but she’d not yet gotten used to it being her home.

By all accounts, it was a good place. As a pony of hard work, she could appreciate the fine craftsponyship of the wood floors and the altogether harmonious design. It wasn’t the Apple family home, but perhaps it wasn’t such a bad place.

“Applejack, darling, are you sure you don’t wish to dress up a bit? Canterlot is quite different from Ponyville.” Rarity’s cultured voice drifted across the wood paneling she’d been admiring.

Applejack grimaced like she had on the train. “Took the words right out of mah mouth,” she muttered.

“Come again?”

“Nothin’, Rares.” She smiled. “Sure, I’ll dress up a bit if it’ll make ya happy.” . It wasn’t that she disliked such things, despite what the others thought. They simply weren’t practical. Above all, Applejack strove to be pragmatic.

She laid her hat on their bed and looked for something to wear, lost in thought as she did so. She didn’t hear Rarity as she silently entered the bedroom, and didn’t notice her until the fashionista had kissed and nipped at her ear and right below it—Rarity had learned things about Applejack just as Applejack and had learned things about her. She shivered. “Slow down there a bit, partner,” she managed with a chuckle.

“You flatter yourself,” Rarity chuckled. “Just keeping you alert! Anyhow, I suppose it is time to go. Have you found something for tonight?”

“Nah… I haven’t. Help me?” It was both a true request and a calculated one to make Rarity’s eyes light up.

And light up they did. Rarity flicked her long mane out of her eyes with a confidant and authoritative air. “Of course, I’d love to help!” And help she did.

**

Of course, Applejack had prepared for the move as much as Rarity had. Sweet Apple Acres had done well over the years through hard work and her acumen, and they now had a small network of shops in the central province of Equestria, serving mostly Canterlot, Ponyville, and Manehattan. They weren’t the biggest chain in Equestria, but they were surprisingly strong for all that. Sweet Apple Goods, as the larger company was named, had an office in the city, and she’d taken up command of the branch.

Business went well. Applejack believed in stability and practicality—there were no risky leaps unless she had weighed the costs thoroughly. Growth was slow, but when others put up one too many eateries in the lower tier and lost a chunk of their profits in it, the Apples met the demand and waited for the sun to shine before they moved.

This was the closest she’d come to home, and here was where she felt the most like her old self. She kept judicious watch over the books, talked with her city sales managers every few days, kept in touch with the branch heads back home and northwards towards Manehattan. She checked in on the Sweet Apple Acres Goods in the lower city and was welcomed warmly—they reminded her a little bit of herself on the day she’d first met Twilight with their eagerness to impress her. Work had been good.

Perhaps it was unfair to say it was where she was happiest. She loved Rarity. She was happy at home. They took walks in the upper city and took in the night air together, and she loved every moment of it. Even when Rarity was frazzled and stressed from work, they managed to live in a kind of quiet peace. In that, things were just as they’d been since they’d started dating.

“So ya say that you’ve been learnin’ a lot of stuff from these folks, then?” she asked as she did the dishes. It had been a week and a half in Canterlot and Rarity was hard at work, doing commissions on top of the special dresses that needed to be finalized for the show for the Salon. Applejack figured doing a few of the chores while Rarity worked was the least she could do.

“Oh, yes! Canterlot has such an elegantly artistic flare! There is a real sense of community with the designers here, you know, and I’ve met at least half of them.”

“You’re chummy with yer competition?”

Rarity chuckled from her place in the center room. It was the only space big enough for Rarity to work in, but with the rest of the living space clean, Applejack had compromised on this one untamed room.

“Applejack, we’re not only competitors. Well, I suppose we are, but not in quite the same way. It’s… hm.” She paused and turned from her alterations. Applejack peered outside of the kitchen when the silence stretched. Rarity seemed thoughtful as she continued.

“It’s not like Manehattan. The fashion industry and community there is rather cutthroat. I think the difference lies in the oldness of Canterlot. We’re all trying to be our best, but we’re not trying to actively do each other in. Designers have come and gone, and the artistic community has begun to learn that things come in time. At least, that’s how I think about it.”

“Ah… guess that makes sense, actually. Well, for what y’all do.” She chuckled, returning to finish the last of her chores.

No, she was happy with Rarity. Their home was a welcome place. Even if it was not quite as orderly as she’d like it to be… but one had to work with what one had.

Finished with the dishes, she left the kitchen behind and came into the main room, where Rarity was busy inspecting some minor detail of the dress before her. Applejack rested on the couch, a few feet removed from the creative center of the chaotic room and sighed. It had been a long day—long week, in fact. She’d been riding the good feelings of her warm welcome as far as they’d carry her, but that happy feeling was losing momentum.

Frustrated, Rarity grunted and muttered something about proportions. Applejack watched, not really understanding totally but still fascinated. The basics she could grasp—you didn’t live on a farm without knowing something about fixing things, and that included clothing. Yes, the Apples were not ones for fancy clothes, but it had been a useful skill. In fact, it was that rudimentary knowledge that had helped her begin to understand her marefriend.

“What’s off?” she asked. This was almost routine for them: Rarity would want to think out loud, and Applejack would give her a perfect excuse to do so. She was rarely disappointed.

“It’s just… too big. See here?” She indicated a spot along the front of the dress. “Big is perhaps not the best word to use. Rather, I think the design is simply too busy, and the parts that should be subordinated in the overall design are simply too flashy…”

She tried her best to explain, and Applejack listened intently. She was intelligent enough to catch onto the gist of what went over her head, and the shop talk of the trade she’d gathered simply from living with Ponyville’s resident fashionista.

Not Ponyville’s, anymore.

She banished that thought from her mind and it went without a fight. She would not mope. Nopony was going to say that Applejack was a whiner or a complainer. Her homesickness was a passing thing.

She nodded commenting when it seemed appropriate. When Rarity asked, she did provide an opinion, but mostly she stayed out of the way. Applejack understood the desire to be able to do things as one pleased.

Instead, when Rarity had returned to adjusting things, she laid her head down and closed her eyes. Why am I so tired? It was a long day, but I’ve done more on the farm and felt less tired than I do tonight. Applejack simply lacked energy. It was right unnatural, she surmised, and for a moment she suspected sickness. She thought about mentioning this to Rarity, but she didn’t want to burden her or interrupt her, and she simply let herself drift off into half-sleep on Rarity’s divinely comfortable couch. I’m so glad she brought this thing with us. It would’ve been positively wasted on Sweetie Belle. We know how to nap on this proper-like.

In the weirdness of half-sleep, she thought she heard Applebloom calling and she remembered applebucking. Somehow, with the certainty of a dreamer, she knew that Big Mac was farther out than she, and that it was lunch time on the farm. The extra hooves they’d hired for Applebucking season since the farm expanded were closer to home, and she watched them pause their work and head back towards the big house on the hill. The sun beat down, and she removed her wide brimmed hat, wiping the sweat drenched hair from her eyes. Hard work, Applebucking, but honest work. The feel of the trees under her hooves, the sense of tangible progress and achievement as the tell-tale sounds of apples falling neatly into yet another waiting basket: there was nothing like a good applebucking day—

“Applejack? Dear, you needn’t sleep on the couch just because I’m up.”

“Hm?” Applejack, torn from her dreaming, tried to answer but found her throat dry. She coughed and tried again. “Gimme that one again?”

“It’s midnight, dear. I’ve just finished for the night.” Rarity kissed her lightly on the head and rested her chin on Applejack’s supple shoulders. The former-farmerpony smiled, and Rarity continued, “I knew you seemed a little tired, but when I looked back from working after a few minutes you’d quite left the world of the waking. Come to bed?”

Applejack stretched, her stiff limbs complaining about her choice of sleeping arrangements. Yes, the couch was absolutely wonderful for cuddling—Celestia, but she was too tired to be thinking about this couch like that—but it was just a bit too hard for good, hard sleep. Rarity let her stand and they walked back to their room together.

“Did ya actually finish it, or just closin’ up shop for the night?” Applejack asked as she climbed into bed. All of her talk of “frou-frou” things aside, she was happy Rarity had brought her pillows from the boutique.

“Finished. Yes, quite done with it,” Rarity answered as she joined her, with a bit of an indifferent air. Applejack recognized that tone—Rarity had gotten sick of it, but it was really good enough to go as it was.

“Looked good to me,” she said, closing the gap between them and nuzzling her.

Rarity gave a rather unladylike snort of derision. “Bah! Not my best at all.”

“Nah, but it ain’t so bad as all that. It’s a mighty fine dress you’ve got in that room, Rares.” Honest to the last.

Rarity accepted it, grudgingly. “Perhaps.” She turned to face Applejack. “I’m sorry about this whole week, Applejack.”

“What about it?” Applejack asked. Her mind went over the events of the week, searching for times that Rarity might have wronged her. “You’re fine, sugarcube.”

“No, I have not. I’ve neglected you. It’s been so busy, and I’ve just been so excited… I’m sorry, dear, I am. With this last order done, I think my schedule will calm down some…”

Applejack shook her head and kissed Rarity, cutting off the worried explanations. “Nah, that ain’t a problem. Ah know about business and bein’ focused. Ya haven’t done wrong by me, and we’re square, alright?” Her words were firm, but her tone was soft. Rarity awarded her with a timid smile.

“I’m glad,” she said simply, and they were quiet. Applejack was back in the hooves of sleep in mere moments. She dreamed of the orchards stretching for miles in the spring, bright in the prime of young growth and life. She dreamed of the bliss of walking between the trees laden with apples that were almost ready for harvesting with Rarity, talking about the coming season. In her dreams, the hills and countryside of Ponyville were all before her in summer splendor—the concrete of her days replaced with grass and the streets with quiet brooks, caves, and back roads she knew by heart. The backroads and streets of Ponyville weren’t full. She could name everypony, within reason, in an eight mile radius. This was home, where the fields were.

When she awoke, it was early. She didn’t try to sleep again. In the hour before Rarity woke, she cried silently and realized that she’d feared moving more than she had let herself believe.

Rarity was in love with Canterlot. She was jubilant, recounting the events of her day when Applejack came home from the branch office. She painted pictures of a new shop here in Canterlot with her words, and Applejack felt torn.

The farmpony’s dreams were always of Ponyville and her birthplace. Her days were full of the city, with the myriads that walked its labyrinth streets and the noise of thousands of hooves. True, it wasn’t all bad. Canterlot was definitely a nicer town than Manehattan had been in her youth. It wasn’t nearly as noisy as Manehattan, and not nearly as tough. But it wasn’t home. Two and a half months had only soured her towards it--pretty spires and towers and all. She just couldn’t enjoy them as she had when she had been visiting.

Applejack knew that, despite her best efforts, her unhappiness with this new living arrangement showed. Rarity’s generosity shone through—the apartment became a brighter, more colorful place the week after she’d lain in bed with tears. And it did help a little. Then had come the plants and the little window garden, and Applejack’s heart had swelled. Rarity was trying, and Applejack loved her for it.

There were no commissions now, only work on dresses for the Salon. The first, small exhibition had gone well. Applejack had gone, though it had not exactly been her cup of tea. But the big one, the one that her designs had to impress in, was in a week. Applejack honestly thought that her marefriend was ready, but the frantic fashionista was still panicking.

It was that time after midnight when sleepiness begins to fall away, and Applejack had no idea why she was still up. She had daily duties to perform up in the branch office, and she needed sleep to go about them. But Rarity needed her.

Nah. That ain’t true....not completely. Rarity had almost forgotten that she was there in her focus. It was always amazing to Applejack just how focused Rarity could be—it impressed her.

So she was Rarity’s moral support, in a way. She lay on the couch, drank coffee, and waited. This was the beginning of what had become a ritual of their relationship—the all-nighter. Of course, during harvest time Rarity had to go these alone, but while they were here… They did fine without me. They can handle a day where I call in sick for the morning.

This was only the middle of the ritual of the all-nighter: the focused work. Before this had been a lot of fuss and not a lot of real tangible work. What came next was special.

It was a strange thing they did, but a precious one. The deepening of their friendship had begun on one of these long walks, the only two girls at one of Pinkie’s get togethers who couldn’t sleep. They’d strolled the streets of Ponyville, insomniacs, and talked about everything that came to mind. That was when it had really clicked for Applejack how hard Rarity truly worked, honing her craft like the more athletic mare honed her body. She knew that, in turn, she’d shocked Rarity with how thoughtful she could be.

So when Rarity’s movement finally slowed, Applejack was ready. Copious coffee helped, but the body got its second wind right about this time of day and Applejack felt fine.

“I think it’s done,” Rarity announced quietly. Her horn’s magic dimmed, and she sat, looking at the dresses before her.

“Done for the night?”

“No...yes—I mean, I am done for the night. It’s just… I think that it’s accomplished. I can do no more.”

“Sure?” Applejack asked as Rarity turned. She seemed surprised.

“I… I think so. I don’t know. I just feel like this may be it. I may have done it. I won’t know until I can let Fancy Pants see them, of course. As you well know, a trained eye outside the creation of the thing is what creative effort needs—but between us, just mares, I think this is the best I can do.”

Applejack wasn’t sure about that phrasing. “The best I can do” sounded more like defeat to her than it did victory. She let it go for now.

Rarity had pulled all-nighters during their stay, but not Applejack-Rarity all-nighters. They’d gone on walks, but it had been awhile since they’d really gone for one of their long walks. Applejack felt inexplicably awkward about it, unsure as to whether Rarity would want to. Maybe Applejack had made more of it than she should have. It’s not like we do it all the time. I mean, I call it a ritual, but that maybe just be my Apple way of thinking. It’s a new place, and it means new habits. I won’t say—

“Applejack, I need to clear my head and it’s too late to sleep. I need to deliver these to Fancy Pants early in the morning, so…” She trailed off, giving Applejack a small smile.

And of course, the earth pony smiled back. She was relieved, and left the couch and met Rarity halfway, nuzzling under her chin. “Sure, sugarcube. Ah’d love to.”

Rarity sighed and laid her head on Applejack’s for a moment before she kissed her ear and headed towards the door. Her companion made sure to retrieve her trusted hat from the table beside the couch, and the two of them walked out into the hall and down the stairs.

Two ponies, side by side, walked out into the pre-dawn light of the Canterlot streets. The sky ahead of them promised a sunrise and the town itself waited for a new day to start in earnest. Oil lamps illuminated streets and quaint cafes and Applejack was struck with an odd emotion: affection. They’d eaten at this family-run restaurant, had coffee and a quick breakfast at this café. Didn’t think I had it in me, but I guess I did.

They talked, as they always did on these walks in the hour before the rest of the world woke. Rarity began, as she almost always did:

“It’s what I live for, but I think I’ll be glad when this is all over. Making dresses for the Salon exhibition, I mean. It’s quite a burden, the idea that one is having to prove oneself with every stitch and addition. Love for it keeps me staying the course, darling, but it is still hard work.”

“Ah still think you thrive under pressure, though,” Applejack replied. They walked close and took the city at a slow pace. It was different from their walks among the orchard lanes, but it was not worse. Just different.

For that matter, she rather liked the play of the light across Rarity’s face, and how her eyes shone in the lamplight. Rarity’s reply came softly, as if she was weighing her words out. “True as that may be, Applejack—and I suppose you are right—I’m simply used to different kinds of pressure. I’m used to pleasing one or two ponies at a time, or failing one or two at a time. At the risk of ‘tooting my own horn’ as it were, generosity is easier to call upon when you’re helping clothe a single pony.”

“So it ain’t the same? If it’s any consolation, I think you’ve been mighty generous to me,” Applejack said. It was hard to tell, but she imagined the mare beside her blushed.

“Thank you, dear. Yes…and no. Make no mistake, generosity has not fled me. But when I work, I’m making things for others, yes? But for these dresses, they’re more for myself… but only in that they benefit only me. It’s odd, making things for only your own benefit to the tastes of others.”

“Only yours? Don’t think nobody’ll want ‘em?”

“Oh, Applejack, I think someone will want them. Absolutely. They’ll be wanting the designs displayed at the biggest show in the city.”

“… But they won’t be wantin’ somethin’ because they actually want it, you mean? They’ll just want it because it’s in that show.”

“I wonder if it’s true. I’m not really sure.” She laughed quietly, and leaned on Applejack. “It is rather early in the morning, and I am not a morning person, dear.”

“Always known it.” They came into a wide, colorful plaza. Across it, Applejack could see the lights from inside a small bakery and imagined she could almost smell the sweet aroma of fresh bread leaving the oven.

Rarity nudged at her. “May we go this way? I always go down this road, and I want to try a new area of the city.”

Applejack shrugged. Why not? She’d never been down the street in question either. They turned and headed into unknown territory.

“Applejack, love,” Rarity began again, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Ah. I’d reckon now’d be a good time, then. Walks were made for talkin’, as Ah know y’know.”

Rarity chuckled a little nervously. “Yes. It’s just…” She paused and moved her mouth, but no sound came out, as if she knew what to say but wasn’t sure if she really should.

Applejack wanted to sigh, but didn’t. She knew what was coming. Rarity would ask to stay here, whether she’d be willing. What would she say? That she hated this town that could potentially be the fulfillment of Rarity’s earliest dreams? Could she really tell this mare she loved that, selfishly, she wanted them to return to Ponyville? She’d have to go along with it. Rarity had a dream, and she loved this city—

“Are you still happy?”

Applejack was thrown and almost stopped walking. She was off her guard; she’d not expected the conversation to begin. Aw, but this is just ain’t right, Rares. I can’t tell you a lie, now can I? I could, I guess… but I won’t. Not to you.

“No,” she said after a moment, quickly adding more before Rarity could misinterpret and begin her theatrics. “Not because of you. I just… I miss home.”

A few more steps in silence.

“I think I do too.”

Applejack thought that Rarity had flanked her before, but now she truly was left with nothing to say. She’d assumed Rarity loved this city—

“Once again—please don’t mistake what I mean. I love Canterlot. It is a beautiful city, full of wonderful ponies. I love our apartment. I love the little cafes and the color and the happy… oh, but I could go on. I love it here, Applejack. I really do. But I do miss the rustic quiet of Ponyville. I never hated my little town. I loved being so close to my friends and feeling like I knew most everypony I met.

“I still want to move here, Applejack. But not yet. I’m not ready, for one thing. I need more capital to set up a shop here, and I’ve not made a name for myself to justify moving.”

Her companion finally mustered words. “Ah’m… is it alright if I’m glad to hear that, hon?”

“Yes.” That earned her a kiss and a light chuckle. “I know you’ve been unhappy with moving. I was worried that you were unhappy with moi as well.”

“Nah. Ah’d never be mad at you for this. Ah was more put out with myself, to tell ya the truth. Ah miss Ponyville a lot. Ah miss trees. Canterlot’s not all stone, but Ah miss hills and forests and trees. Ah don’t wanna move, Rares—but ah will.” Aw, this kind of thing just ain’t what I’m good at. She mustered a bit of courage and hoped that what she had to say didn’t sound to cheesy.

“Ah think you’re worth it. Ah love ya.”

Apparently Rarity approved, for she kissed Applejack in the middle of an intersection—much to the latter’s surprise and consternation. When they pulled away, Applejack straightened her hat with a flustered motion.

“Well then. I take it tha feelin’s are mutual. Gosh, Rares, that was a bit…,” She struggled for a word.

“Forward?”

“Ah think so.” They laughed in the pre-dawn glow. Rarity grinned in a knowing way.

“I have something to show you. It’s a surprise! I thought you might like it.”

She led the curious Applejack down another street, heading uphill. Rarity’s nervousness was gone, replaced by playful elation. Whatever this surprise was, it had to be good. The leading became chasing after Rarity flicked her tail at Applejack and laughed, and the two mares covered the last bit of the hill like schoolfillies at play.

And when they got to the top, Applejack was for the third time speechless.

Below her was a sight out of her dreams: the hill sloped down, covered with terraces brimming with trees, down into a valley bathed in the gold of the rising sun. The dawn bestowed the land with a warm blessing, and Applejack felt like she was back home, greeting a new day. But this was different. From her vantage point in the city, she could see for miles how the trees—something told her they were apple trees without even looking too closely—met tiny farms below and another small village so similar to her own, and she was struck with awe for Celestia and her glorious sun. It was beyond words that Applejack could form—she’d seen the sun rising, but she’d never stopped and really paid attention, never seen it from such a vantage point. She’d never really thought about it very closely at all, and now here it was, in all of it’s majesty.

“Do you like it, Applejack?” Rarity inquired. When she nodded, the unicorn continued in a hushed voice, “It’s the Terrace of the Sun. Fancy Pants mentioned in passing that this place had a wonderful view. I’m glad he was right.”

“It’s beautiful,” Applejack said, and she coughed. She rather hoped that she wouldn’t tear up. But what better place than in front of Rarity where no one else could see?

“It is. Applejack, I wouldn’t tear you away from what you love. I won’t move until we’re both ready to. I want you to be happy.”

“Ah think I am,” Applejack replied, leaning against her and taking in the rising sun. And she was.