The Rustic and The Romantic

by TheLastBrunnenG

Rating: teen
Tags: Cutie Mark Crusaders, Rarity, Romance, Sex, Big Macintosh, Slice of Life, Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 22167

The Farmer and The Fashionista, The Orange and the White, The Barn and The Boutique

What brought Rarity and Applejack together, nopony knows, but you can bet your last barrel of cider that nothing this side of Discord could separate them.

An ongoing series of slice-of-life snapshots. This barn here'll be clop-free, y'all got it?

These stories are in continuity with Luna's Librarian and If the Flight Suit Fits.

All chapters originally written as separate entries for flash-fic blog Thirty Minute Ponies (TMP). Many thanks to TMP for inspiring me to write!

Lift Carefully - Applejack and Rarity hatch a plan to 'help' Twilight by stealing her journal. What they discover is more than they bargained for.

Among the Hills a Winding Way - Confused about her feelings for Rarity, Applejack seeks comfort from her apple trees, who are eager to listen.

Torn - Rarity finds a philosophical Applejack irresistible and finally makes her move. Will an old hat be the only thing torn by night's end?

Drama-Induced Audience Apathy - Rarity thinks angsty drama will spice up their love life. Applejack is a bit more practical.

Ejection - Twilight and friends are determined to see Applejack and Rarity separated. How will the lovers cope?

Not Again - Applejack isn't feeling like herself. Can her marefriend Rarity help straighten her out?

The Honorable Thing - One more disappointment for Applejack might be one too many.

The Best and the Worst - Rarity's having problems with her work and her magic - nothing that an attentive and perceptive marefriend can't help with.

Crossed in the Mail - Letters bearing bad news can make a mare say things she might regret. Sometimes it's hard to remember that we don't have to endure life's troubles alone.

Tickets - With Mac gone to Appleloosa and Granny needing ever more care, the pressure mounts as AJ is left to fend for herself. A certain dressmaker's attention to detail may come handy.

Calendar - Some dates are more worth remembering than others.

Suddenly There Came A Tapping - The Cutie Mark Crusaders are on the run, forced to flee, and about to learn something that hopefully won't earn them cutie marks.

A Meditation Upon the Day's Toils, or, 'Bark' - Who's a good little dog? You're a good dog, Winona! Yes you are!

Slow and Steady - Big Mac notices a whole lot more than he lets on.

Tailoring the Conversation - Oh, what wisdom from the mouths of fillies! Especially the ones who've been peeking in the barn at really inconvenient times.

The Quiet Revelations - Applejack has a nice quiet sit on the front porch to think a few things over. Maybe a little too quiet - or maybe it's just right after all.

Answers Above - Rarity has something to ask; for other ponies this would be a formality, but for her, it will be out of this world.

Happily Ever After, Checklist Never Ending, Part 1 and Part 2 - With Twilight Sparkle as your wedding planner, you're in good hooves. Right?

Winter by the Pond - There's something Applejack hasn't been able to ask, and isn't sure if any living pony can make it easier for her.

Diminished Distance - Headed for their honeymoon, Rarity and Applejack find there are still things to learn about each other - things they'll wish they could forget.

Facing Worlds - Rarity said some things she shouldn't have at the latest Apple family reunion.

Subtle Like a Hurricane - A lady never begs, especially when public displays of affection are at stake.

Published 2012-11-16 14:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2014-02-24 20:32:25 UTC

Among the Hills a Winding Way

Midnight moonlight filtered through full and rustling branches to cast scattered shadows like broken glass over the outskirts of Sweet Apple acres. Under the twinkling stars sat an orange earth pony, blonde mane splayed against the bark of a barrel-thick tree.

“Howdy, Stockton. I know I ain’t been back here to the North Forty lately. And I know you miss ol’ Bloomberg – we all do. But I gotta talk, and you were always a dang good listener, so here goes. Me an’ my unicorn friend, we’re tryin’ to help out this other pony, and it was goin’ fine. Had ourselves a sleepover, all kinds a’ fun. We weren’t exactly bein’ honest, ‘cause we were really there to sneak a peek at this pony’s journal. Took it back to the barn, had ourselves a read, and – hoo boy, this is where things got interestin’.”

“The whole dadgum thing was page after page about how much she thought Rarity was sweet on me! I couldn’t believe a word of it. Ain’t no pony ever looked at me like that. I said so, and Rares, she, uh… kinda surprised me. This durn fool unicorn just leans over and plants a big ol’ kiss on me. Not even friendly-like, this was marefriend-like. Shut me right up, I tell ya. After that, it got a little… awkward. Told Rares I didn’t know what I thought, asked her to give me some time.”

Gentle breezes rustled the leaves above and the moonlit shadows shifted a kaleidoscope of patterns below. Applejack furrowed her brown and peered up into the overarching branches. “Stockton, are you outta yer ever-lovin’ mind? I cain’t just go for it! Whisper sweet nothin’s to her, ask her for a midnight stroll? Good listener, maybe, but you ain’t got a serious branch on ya.”

Cantering a few trees over, the orange mare ran a hoof down the shadowed bark of a thin but towering apple tree, its high branches leaving her illuminated in pale, ghostly light. “Hey there, Rufus. We ain’t ever had a chance to talk, but Bloomberg always said you knew yer way around the ladies. Truth is, I ain’t been on a date, a real honest to Celestia date, since – well, never. Just a couple a’ school-filly crushes, and my senior dance, an’ that didn’t end so well. But I made a pony a promise tonight. Told her I’d let her know in the mornin’, and that ain’t but a couple o’ hours away. I just cain’t do it, Rufus! It don’t have nothin’ to do with her an’ me bein’ mares, I swear. I never seen that as a problem. But this is Rarity!”

Applejack sank to her haunches, her weatherworn Stetson knocked askew against the flaking bark. “She’s practically Canterlot’s darlin’. All fancy, all highfalutin’, all proper, all the time. Just a hoof this side o’ too snooty and, boy oh boy Rufus, my friend, does she set new levels o’ dramatic! Ever seen her magic up a faintin’ couch?” She chuckled, straightened her hat, and continued, “Now ain't this here a kicker? Here I am, tryin’ to talk myself out o’ this. Rarity’s the single most generous mare I ever knew. Hard workin', in her own way, dedicated, and she’s… Rufus, she’s plain beautiful. That mare’s beyond gorgeous, an’ she’s tellin’ me the same, and I know I should take her word for it, but… It’s just too much, too soon, I can’t make myself…”

From swaying branches above a single apple fell onto a single Apple below, knocking the Stetson lazily to the ground. The earth mare rubbed her head, picked up the offending fruit, and glared at the great wooden tower beside her. “What the hay’d ya do that for? Ain’t no pony bucked ya!" She stared down at the apple for long moments, turning it over in her hooves as it glistened in the moonlight. "Shoot, I guess ya got a point. What’s gonna happen is gonna happen, even if I ain’t the one to start it. Even if I just sit here, mindin' my own business, the thing I always wanted can just drop right outta' the ever-lovin' sky. Kinda' like it did in the barn tonight, huh? So you think I might as well give it a shot, that what you’re gettin’ at, Rufus?”

Lying down beneath the tree, tail curled around her, apple nestled in her hat like a mother bird guarding her nest, Applejack closed her eyes under the stars and swaying branches. “Gotta get some sleep, Rufus, so keep an eye out for me, okay, pardner? I got a promise to keep tomorrow. I owe a mare an answer, and I hope to Celestia she’ll forgive me for smellin' like applewood an' topsoil. G’night, Rufus. You too, Stockton.”

Torn

In the skies over Canterlot, fireworks still added their glory to Princess Luna’s already-impressive night sky long after the Royal carriage bearing Shining Armor and Princess Cadance departed for their hard-earned honeymoon. Among the myriad blossoms of Celestia’s personal garden a snow-furred unicorn wandered slowly, aimlessly, eyes nearly closed as she inhaled a hundred floral scents in the gentle midnight breeze. Stopping to sample one of Luna’s moonflowers, the sight of golden-braid trim glinting in the moonlight caught her eye and she rounded a tall hedge to investigate.

“Applejack, what brings you to the gardens?” Rarity’s singsong voice tinkled like a bell choir as she continued, “Why aren’t you back at the party with the rest of the girls?”

The earth pony was staring up at the near-cloudless sky, away from the lights of the castle. “Well,” she drawled, “Twi an’ Fluttershy went to talk to the Princesses, Pinkie was hangin’ out with her friend DJ Three-Pone or whoever she was, an’ Dash was off flyin’ circles around them fireworks, last I saw. I think Spike ran off with them flowergirls. I been to this here garden before, an’ it’s the closest to Sweet Apple Acres I can get here in Canterlot. Smell o’ growin’ greens on the breeze, fresh soil under my hooves, clear view o’ the sky without all them bright lights blindin’ me…”

Rarity stood transfixed by the moonlight bathing Applejack. “Why, Applejack that… that’s actually quite poetic. It is indeed quite peaceful down here.” It took a few long moments before she noticed the orange mare’s signature hat had reappeared.

Applejack shook her head a bit, as if just waking, and turned to face the unicorn. “That’s my story. What brings you all the way down here? Didn’t I see you trottin’ around with that Fancypants feller? I thought you was, well... sweet on him.”

“Oh, that was just a photo opportunity. Fancypants is quite the dapper stallion, I admit, but he is quite devoted to his young Fleur. They may not be married but they may as well be - they’re positively inseparable. He was just doing me a favor - being seen with a high society gentlecolt like himself can do wonders for my Boutique, you know.” She craned her neck a bit and stared intently at the weatherworn Stetson hat. “My dear, I don’t mind that you left your garland behind, but did you know your hat is torn?”

Removing her hat in a hoof with practiced ease, the earth mare stared down at her ripped headgear with wistful eyes. “Yeah, I saw it. One o’ them changelin’ critters got a fang in it. I bucked him clear into next week but he tore my hat up in the process. Shame, this’n was a hand-me-down.”

“Bring it by the Boutique when we return to Ponyville and I’ll see what I can do.” Anticipating the response with a raised hoof, she offered, “No need to thank me, it’s the least I can do.” She put a hoof of her own on the hat and paused for a pregnant minute. Quietly she said, “Applejack, do you think… ” For a moment words seemed to fail her when suddenly her eyes twinkled and she levitated the hat in a glowing magical grip. “Applejack, dear, I do believe I know how your hat can be greatly improved this very night, and no need to wait for a return trip to Ponyville.” With a spark from her horn and a girlish giggle she flipped the hat upwards, timing its end-over-end tumble to land perfectly atop her head, the beaten hat canted jauntily to one side. She smiled from under the brim, “Does this not look better already?”

This got a chuckle from the orange pony, “Sure does, Rares! Now, you know as sure as sugar, that there’s a special hat, so if you’d kindly return it, I’d be much obliged.” She reached out a hoof and stood back, bewildered a little, as the grinning white unicorn took a step backwards. “Playin’ keepaway? I’d expect that out a’ Rainbow Dash, but from you, Rarity?”

Her face half covered by the Stetson, the purple-maned mare smiled. “Then perhaps, dear Applejack, you weren’t expecting this either.”

Applejack’s eyes grow wide and time froze for a moment as white lips met her own, briefly, firmly, warmly, and departed just as quickly. Rarity took several steps backward and whispered, smiling, “Want your hat back? Well… come and get it!” Turning quickly on her hooves she bounded into the maze of flowers, bouncing and prancing and giggling her silver-bell laugh.

Through camellias and around terraced moonflowers Rarity hopped, sweet verbena and precious carnations narrowly avoiding being trampled under dainty white hooves. Realizing she had not been followed, she lost her smile and looked around, silence and absence greeting her. “Applejack? ” Nopony answered, and she called again, louder, “Applejack?” Worry creased her brow as she cantered in place, muttering, “Too forward, Rarity! You could have talked to her, wooed her, asked her out like any other pony, but no, you had to steal her beloved hat and kiss her, bold as you please, unannounced and -“

Her thoughts were lost in a jumble of blossoms and gold-braid trim as a great orange thunderbolt shot out of a nearby rhododendron and tackled her. She saw the fateful hat spiraling up into the starlit sky, and she saw scraps of pink and aqua from her dress floating on the breeze, mixed with shreds of red and green. Then she saw nothing, her eyes closed as a powerful embrace and a burning kiss sank her into a floral bed.

~~~~~

Applejack stroked the purple mane draped across her chest as the two mares stared up at Luna’s celestial artwork. “Sorry about our dresses, Rares. They, uh, mighta’ gotten a little torn up here.”

Rarity sighed contentedly, her hoof caressing the blonde mane ticking her muzzle. “Fixing a few rips and cuts is simple work, love. Even if my masterwork dresses cannot be salvaged, this,” and she planted a gentle kiss on the earth mare’s neck, “this was worth a few tears.”

Drama-Induced Audience Apathy

“I’m hideous! Even the Diamond Dogs said so, and those filthy brutes are the very nadir of cleanliness and fashion. Truly, I was cursed from birth, else why would my distant, unloving parents have shut me away from the world, except to spare the public from the torment of observing the vile creature who is moi. Had I even a modicum of beauty, even the plainest of muzzles, I would not have been forced to endure the dungeons of my despair. I am unworthy of my lover’s gaze!”

“Rarity?”

“And I am certainly no seamstress, no costumer, no designer. My creations are worthless, beneath the scorn of the lowliest of fashion foes! Had I the merest inkling of style, I would be able to earn some meager income, to feed my crumbling body. Yet here I starve, for nopony understands my work. My very heart and soul, weak and pathetic as they are, I pour into every skirt, every ensemble, every scarf and stitch, yet I go unrecognized and unheralded. It is as I deserve, I fear. No, fair Applejack, do not waste your honeyed words on my insignificant creations, they are unfit even to wipe the sweat from your glistening brow.”

“Rares?”

”Abandoned! My family shuns me, and certainly I deserve their scorn. I was ever their disappointment, their… mistake. I was but an error in their grand plan, unloved and discarded. My sister, lovely, beautiful, perfect Sweetie Belle - she was their ultimate creation, their muse, their everything. Oh, how content would I have been to but walk in her shadow! Yet even then she fled from me. Mother distant, father abusive, and my sister, the one light in my young life, taken from me in that unspeakable accident. If only some kind soul would take pity on my lonely heart…”

“Okay Rarity, y’all can -“

“Broken and helpless, now even my own body rebels against me. The best doctors had no cure, and the sickness ravaged my frail frame. I feel faint, my vision hazy. The cough returned last night, and - and I think that means my time here grows short. My heart falters and my limbs tremble more each morn. My hearing is going - what’s that? I thought I heard distant bells, as if from a funeral procession… Surely my time draws near, and certainly I shall die alone, forgotten, disowned, and discarded. I dreamt of spending my final moments in my lover’s arms, her breath hot against my cold skin, yet ‘twas only a dream, for here I lie, unloved…”

“RARITY.”

“Hmm? Oh, one moment, Applejack, I’m almost done. Where was I? Oh, yes. Ruined! Destitute, I was forced to panhandle in the dusty streets of a cruel city, only to - “

“Okay, sugarcube, that there’s enough. You know, most couples, if’n they wanted to add a little bedroom spice, they’d find ‘em a bullwhip, or some marmalade jam. Or if’n they’s into playin’ roles, maybe they’d go fer somethin’ normal, like ‘Wonderbolt Captain and her new recruit’ or ‘Librarian and the Quill Store owner’. But this here just ain’t workin’ fer me.”

“But dear Applejack, does my dramatic turn not stoke a fire in your loins? Are you not inspired to ravish me and thereby put an end to my bleak existential crises?”

“Ah’m inspired to remind you that it’s darn near midnight, and Ah gotta buck the whole East Orchard by mahself in right about five hours. If y’all want some ravishin’ Ah’m all fer it. But if Ah gotta set through another o’ them monologues, y’all are gonna have to do the ravishin’ yerself, and yer probably gonna have to wake me when it’s over.”

“Applejack Apple, you have no sense of theatre whatsoever.”

“Set yer sexy flank down over by this fireplace with me, an’ Ah’ll show ya what Ah got a sense fer.”

Ejection

Twilight whispered conspiratorially to the pink plotter hopping excitedly by her side. “Pinkie, we can’t afford to leave them together! Applejack and Rarity are planning something, I just know it. If we don’t break them up, they could ruin everything - our whole group of friends is at stake.”

“Aw, but Twiley-wiley, they’re soooo cute together! They make each other smile,” said Pinkie as she grinned ear to ear in a toothy demonstration, “and smiles are happy, and happy is fun, and what did Mama Celestia teach us? That’s right, conspiratorial-pants! Funship is Magicallyish!”

“Friendship, Pinkie! Friendship is Magic! Not… oh, forget it!” She banged her forehead against the wooden wall a few times before adding with a sigh, “Friendship is exactly why we have to separate those two.”

Bouncing even more energetically, the pink mare continued, “But they’ll have such cutesy wittle white and orange foals! Or maybe pale orange, like orange sherbet! Or like those little tangelos that get white spots after you leave them out in the sun too long, or…”

~~~~~

Rainbow huddled low with a pink-maned Pegasus, the ruffling of their wings masking her gravelly mutters. “Okay, hear me out, Shy, ‘cause we gotta stick together on this one. We gotta drive a wedge between AJ and Rarity. They’ve been plotting against us the whole time, and now it’s our turn to get one over on them. They’re vulnerable now, so we have to strike while the branding iron is hot!”

“Strike? Wedge? Plotting? Oh, Dash,” mewled the shrinking yellow mare, “that all sounds so violent and, um, well, unpleasant. Can’t we just ask one of them nicely if they’d like to leave for tea for just a little while?”

Dash took Fluttershy’s head in her hooves and stared into her watery eyes. “Focus, Shy! We do this now, and we’re all safe. We don’t, we let them get away together, and next time, you better believe they’ll do it to us!”

Barely above a whisper, Fluttershy replied, “I just don’t know, Rainbow… They’re both such nice ponies. They wouldn’t send us away, would they? I just don’t know if I can do the same to one of them.”

~~~~~

Sitting in a corner by himself, arms crossed and head resting on a tapping claw, Spike snorted. “Don’t look at me! Twilight was right, all you ponies are crazy! Count me out. Nothing doing, I was never here.” He tapped a scaly tail impatiently against the dusty floor. “Oh, for cryin’ out loud Rarity, don’t look at me like that, you know I can’t resist those eyes. And that pout. And the… The… Oh, all right, I’m in. Twilight will never let me live this down. That’s the last ice cream I’ll see for a month.”

~~~~~

“Y’all know they got it in fer us, right, Rares?” The farm pony shook her head beneath a wide-brimmed and weatherworn hat. “They ain’t gonna let us be together, Ah just know it.”

The white-coated unicorn ran a hoof through her partner’s yellow mane. “There, there, dear Applejack. No matter what they decide, we will always be together in our hearts. They cannot separate us forever! I will return for you, my love, I…”

Applejack cut her off with a hoof to the lips. “Aw, shucks, save it fer yer faintin’ couch, Rares. This ain’t forever, sugarcube.”

From across the room four mares approached, side by side, a baby dragon in tow. Twilight looked at each of her associates, nodding before clearing her throat and stepping forward. “Applejack, Rarity, you both know why you’re here. The discussion was heated and our decision was anything but easy. Well, the tribe has spoken. Rarity, you’re safe for another week. You may sit down. Applejack, I’m sorry. You have been voted off the island. You must leave immediately.”

“Well, thank Celestia that there’s over! But…” The orange mare rubbed her temple with a tired hoof. “Ya’ll know this here is mah own barn, right? Ah ain’t leavin’ mah barn, no matter what yall’re callin’ it. Island, my left hoof! How’d I let mahself get talked into this here crazy game?”

Rarity leaned over to grace Applejack’s check with a quick kiss. “Don’t be a sore loser, my sweet. You’re the one who lost a bet with Twilight, and you knew the terms. It was either agree to let us use the barn for our weekly re-enactment of ‘Survivor: Equestria’, or let her use your West Orchard for her Diamond Dog Fertilizer experiment. Honestly, dear AJ, I think you chose the lesser of two evils. Of course, I would think that, as the tribe did see fit to keep me on the island for another week.” She leaned in to whisper harshly, “Don’t worry, love. Next week I shall avenge you by forming a cunning alliance!”

Not Again

A meandering line of chattering, nattering ponies snaked through the sun-dappled morning streets of Ponyville. Onward trudged Applejack Apple, the harness of her apple cart barely hiding her from the endless glances, glares, and stares of the gathering crowd. As usual, the glut of pony traffic and the plodding farmer headed to the same spot. A rough lot of packed earth and nighttime litter awaited them all. Finally she arrived at her familiar home-away-from-home and unpacked her stall, the crowding audience unleashing a chorus of “Oooohs” and “Aaahhhs” as the orange mare unloaded crate after crate of Sweet Apple Acres’ finest wares. This was her routine, morning in and evening out, and more often than not every hour in between. Long minutes of avoiding the press of ponies ended as she opened her stall for business.

She prepared for this moment every day, the long trot from her farm allowing precious few minutes to review the same spiel, the same lines, the same boilerplate greetings and good-byes, the same drudgery that made her every waking second a dreary chore. “Cain’t put it off no longer,” she muttered under her weatherworn hat, “so Ah guess Ah better get this over with. Another day, another couple o’ bits…” Tipping her hat back and forcing a tired too-wide grin, she began this day the same way she began every other.

“Howdy, Carrot Top! Here’s your usual batch o’ fritters. No, Ah ain’t goin’ out with you.”

“No, Lyra, Ah ain’t gonna make you an’ Bon-Bon mah personal herd. Enjoy the pie.”

“Fine weather we’re havin’, Mayor! Now you an’ Ah both know there ain’t no such thing as a Love Tax, an’ if’n there was, Ah’d be evadin’ it something fierce. Twelve bits fer the bushel.”

“Raindrops, Cloudkicker, Dizzy, how y’all doin? Nope, Ah still don’t need a harem. Try the strudel, it’s delicious!”

“Roseluck, don’t y’all have a stall o’ your own to watch? No, Ah ain’t gonna ‘watch yer stall’ for you, and Ah’m not runnin’ your store, either.”

“Zecora! Ah’m glad ya’ll came, now it’s time ya’ll depart. This here’ll keep your belly full, but Ah ain’t gonna fill yer heart.”

One by one the mares of Ponyville came, and one by one they left with scrumptious fresh apples but without that one most prized and delectable of Apples. Then she saw it - no, she saw him! Applejack’s banter became hollow background noise and tunnel vision overtook her as she lost sight of all but that beautiful hunk of stunning stallionhood patiently awaiting his turn. Her heart fluttered in her throat as he neared the counter, its low wooden walls thankfully hiding her shaking knees. He smiled and her cheeks flushed, he winked and her tail twitched, he waved and her troubles melted away. Finally he stood before her, chestnut mane perfectly coiffed, azure eyes shining like the endless sky.

She stammered out what few words her parched tongue could manage. “H.. Howdy, Caramel. C… Can Ah interest a fine stallion like yourself in some… some…”

“Applejack Apple, I came here for one thing only,” he purred, his voice firm and smooth like polished walnut, “I came here for you.”

Gulping and trembling, she set aside her hat and tossed off her hairband, loose strands of cornsilk-blonde mane blowing gently in the breeze. “Fer me? Ah… Ah don’t rightly know what to say, Caramel, Ah…”

His hooves touched hers as hers as he leaned across the stall, hot breath and tension mingling in the narrowing space between their muzzles. “There’s a question I’ve always wanted to ask you, AJ, but I never could make myself. The time’s come, though. I can’t put it off, I can’t resist a day longer. I need to know, AJ.”

Anticipation welled like tears behind her fluttering eyelids. “Anything, Caramel. Ask me anything!”

“Applejack - is Big Mac seeing anyone? I really want to ask him out, but every time I see that gorgeous green-appled flank, it’s like my mouth dries up and I can’t think of a thing to say, so I was hoping…”

~~~~~

“GAH!” Applejack shot up in bed, sheets flying across the room like panicked ghosts. Passing minutes felt like hours as she gasped for air, quaking and shivering.

A gentle hoof began to stroke her tousled mane. The alabaster unicorn put her head on the earth mare’s shaking shoulder and sleepily mumbled, “AJ, you poor darling! Same nightmare again?”

Panting and exhausted, the farmer turned suddenly and threw her arms around the snow-furred mare in her bed, burying her muzzle in a silken violet mane. “Yeah. Yeah it was, sugarcube. Same dang nightmare as always.”

Rarity sighed into her marefriend’s qivering ear. “The one where you’re straight?”

“Yeah, that there’s the one. Tarnation, Ah wish Ah could shake this dadgum thing. In th’ dream, it’s… it’s like Ah ain’t mahself, you know?”

“I can assure you from great personal experience, dearest Applejack, that it is in fact a dream. Nothing more. Now, come back to bed, darling. You’ve got a long day at the market stall tomorrow.”

The Honorable Thing

Ponies young and old began to filter away from the town square with sticky lips and sticky hooves. A thick scent of cake, cobbler, and icing turned the clear afternoon breeze into a cloying vapor of sugar and too-rich sweets. Pegasi unhooked and furled a worn “Annual Ponyville Bake-Off” banner while teams of ponies swept the streets, collected stray plates and wrappers, and recycled everything not nailed down with Librarian-led efficiency.

From behind an empty table a couple with matching Sugarcube Corner aprons packed away a few empty boxes. “Oh, Carrot, hon, the new Springtime Surprise cake was a hit, dontcha know! We put enough time into it, and look at what we got - cakes flying off the table, not a sample left in sight, and orders backed up into next week.”

“Cup Cake, sweetie, it was your double-butter, double-cream icing that sealed the deal!” Lifting a gleaming golden trophy, the yellow stallion leaned across to drop a kiss on his wife’s cheek. “Second place is fine by me! If we’d won first, we’d never have been able to keep up with orders anyway.” They quickly filled a small cart and cantered across the square, smiling, hoof in hoof.

Across the street a mountain of discarded cupcake wrappers exploded in a flash of crumbs and blinding pinkness, sending a small golden plaque tumbling into the sky. “Wheeeee!” Grabbing an unsuspecting and somewhat mortified passing pony, Pinkie Pie erupted into a frantic jig. “Oh, third place is the bestest place for me, for me! Chocolate Coated Chocolate Bombs whoopee, whoopee!” Pausing mid-air, she put a hoof to her chin while her unwilling song-and-dance partner scrambled madly to escape the scene. “But how will I fill all the orders I got for the Chocolate Coated Chocolate Bombs? The Cakes will be using all their ovens full-time for their own super-duper-riffic new Springtime Surprise cakes, and that never made sense, I mean, how do they keep from turning into cannibals? Wouldn’t it be all like, ‘Cake, put the Cake into the oven,’ said Cake, ‘while I go check to see if our little Cakes got into the Cakes’?” Dropping to the ground to the sound of applause from Physics, the pink baker’s eyes popped wide. “I know! I can’t install more ovens, so I can just install more Cakes!” Skipping off down the lane toward Golden Oaks Library, she grinned merrily and continued, “Now, if I can get Twilight to unseal the Mirror Pool and convince Carrot Cake and Cup Cake to clone themselves, then all our problems will be solved! Noting bad could possibly come from more Cakes, right?”

A few stalls away an orange pony sat alone, staring at an overflowing table. Stacks of apple pies and piles of apple cobbler competed for space with trays of caramel apples and plate after plate of apple fritters. Confections once steaming hot and flaky now sat lukewarm and drooping under a cloud-covered afternoon sun. Under a small glass dome sat the centerpiece, an apple-and-cheese tart, whole save for a few tiny samples taken. It looked diminutive and lonely under the wavy distortions of the glass. A small blue ribbon was taped to the dome and fluttered gently in a passing breeze.

Applejack sat frozen, staring into the wavy depths of the glass, or perhaps beyond it, as if willing the tart to come to life and speak its piece. Her eyes turned glassy and unfocused, strands of straw-blonde mane cascading unnoticed across her muzzle. Many agonizing and silent minutes later a glow of magic began to lift plates and trays, boxes and crates, packing them away expertly and noiselessly. The table was folded and packed, banners and canopy tucked away, and all that remained was the orange mare sitting on her haunches, drooping and defeated.

Rarity lay a hoof across the farmer’s shoulder. “Applejack, my dear, there were over forty bakers in attendance here today. Achieving an Honorable Mention is certainly no small feat.”

“Guess I better get used to it, sugar.” Applejack’s ears wilted and her eyes stared down at her dusty hooves. “This ain’t the first time, an’ it’s gettin’ to be a right regular showin’ for me.”

The seamstress snorted daintily. “Nonsense! You are a superb baker, absolutely the finest apple connoisseur in Ponyville, and you should not denigrate yourself so.”

Slowly the orange pony shook her head, her voice low. “When Discord had his way with all o’ us, which one o’ the girls was first to lose her marbles? Good ol’ honest AJ, that’s who. And when Ponyville needed bits, who’d they trust to win the Rodeo? Same pony who lost out an’ brought home nothin’ - me. An’ did the toughest, strongest mare in Ponyville win the Iron Pony competition or the Runnin’ o’ the Leaves?” She pulled her hat low, its brim now stained with more than sweat. “I cain’t go home with some stinkin’ ribbon, Rares. What’ll everypony think?”

“They’ll think what I do, love.” Rarity lay her head on Applejack’s mane, closing her eyes to whisper. “Among many things, many wonderful things, my Applejack, you are a superb baker. And you’re the best thing that has ever happened to this foolish and over-dramatic dressmaker. In my humble estimation, that makes you the best, my dear baker AJ.” She sighed and pulled the farmer closer. “Whether or not you are the best baker in Ponyville, Applejack, you will always be the best baker for me.”

Author's Note

TMP Prompt # 197.

The Best and the Worst

The snow-furred unicorn tossed and turned on a bed far plainer than her own, falling strands of violet mane failing to hide her red-streaked and puffy eyes. Sleepless and restless, she surveyed her surroundings. The room in which she found herself was utilitarian in all respects, its furnishings and décor almost spartan. Fading whitewash peeled from cracking plaster while simple, hospital-white sheets adorned an aging but firm mattress. A hoof-made wooden bedframe complemented a simple nightstand and a rickety-looking but surprisingly sturdy desk.

Rarity sighed, rubbing her eyes as she sat up slowly. A glance at the darkness visible behind the single window’s plain linen curtain told her she’d missed the Apple family’s likely superb dinner. Her ears perked up at the sound of familiar hoofsteps coming up the stairs. “Applejack?” she called, and the door creaked open in answer.

An earth pony entered, dust and grime darkening her orange coat. “Hey, Rares. Sorry ya missed dinner, Ah thought you’d enjoy yer rest. Granny Smith saved a plate if’n yer hungry.” She stretched four taut-muscled legs and turned her head sharply, pops and cracks echoing off the walls. “Ah’m sorry Ah couldn’t get back earlier. With the goin’s on this afternoon, Ah just got behind, an’, well…”

“Say no more, Applejack, and please, no more apologies. Thank you again for putting me up for the night. I was a fool for thinking I could complete eighteen dresses in seven days, but my professional pride got the better of me. And what do I have to show for it?” The alabaster unicorn fell back on the bed, a hoof across her forehead as she continued, “Seventeen dresses finished, the order incomplete, and my magic has abandoned me! What did Twilight call it? Over-exertion based magical depletion?”

“Givin’a ya the guest room weren’t no problem, sugarcube. Ah ain’t seen ya that upset in ages an’ Ah couldn’t stomach leavin’ ya alone in yer condition.” Applejack chuckled as she shook dust off her weatherworn hat. “Now go ahead, sweetheart, Ah know you wanna say it.”

Rarity bolted upright, indignation plain on her face. “What, now you laugh at my distress? Without my magic I can barely brush my own luxurious mane! If ever a situation was so dreadful as to be described as the worst possible thing, certainly this is it!” She crossed her forelegs and pointed her muzzle to the ceiling. After holding the pose for long seconds, she put her head in her hooves and fell back on her haunches. “You’re right, my dear Applejack. I feel quite lost. I sank everything into filling this order, and now it’s due and I can’t even begin to complete it. I won’t get paid for less than perfection and I can’t sell custom pieces to recoup my losses.”

The farm pony extended a hoof to her diamond-flanked companion, a gentle smile gracing her tired face. “Take a walk with me, Rare. Ah got a couple things Ah need to show you.”

Confusion creased the unicorn’s brow as she accepted the offered hoof and rose from her bed. Downstairs she found all rooms of the Apple family’s house deserted, though the warm tartness of half a dozen cooked apple scents still wafted though the air. Applejack led her to the kitchen and motioned for her to wait as she rounded a corner down a narrow hallway.

“Well, here ya go, sugar. Ah hope y’all ain’t gonna hate me fer this.” The earth mare reached into a closet and pulled out a sparkling dress, gemstones and thread-of-gold trim gleaming in the dim, flickering lantern-light. She hung her head and muttered to her hooves, “Please don’t be mad at me, Rares. Ah hope y’all like it. Ah.. Ah couldn’t think o’ what else to do.”

Rarity gasped, eyes wide and her hooves trembling. “Applejack, that – that’s my design for the final dress! Where did you get this? How did you manage this?

“Ah didn’t. Ah knew what this order meant to ya, an’ Ah remembered what ya said about Fluttershy havin’ some kinda freaky sewin’ skills, so I asked her if she could finish it while Ah let ya get yer rest. She took yer designs an’ drawin’s an’, well… here it is. You sure ain’t sore with me?”

It took Rarity only seconds to examine every stitch, every thread, and every jewel. “It’s perfect, AJ! Thank you!” She threw her arms around the flustered orange mare, burying her muzzle in a sweat-soaked and dust-laden blonde mane. “I don’t deserve you, you wonderful filly!”

Extracting herself from the hug, the elder Apple sister replaced the dress in the closet and blushed enough to show even in the low firelight. “Shucks, Rarity, Ah just gave ya what ya deserved. Now, follow me outside. Ah know Twi said it’d be a few days afore yer magic came back, so I got a little present for ya.”

The two mares walked side by side across the farmyard to the largest of Sweet Apple Acres’ several barns, dim light shining behind its weathered shutters. Inside the earth pony walked over to a large, tarp-covered object situated in the middle of the barn’s freshly-swept floor. She glanced back at Rarity, grinning, and yanked the tarp aside. “Now do ya wanna say it, sweetheart?”

Rarity suppressed her tears but couldn’t hide a growing smile. Underneath the tarp was a one-ended sofa, its patched fabric long out of fashion but its hardwood frame shining and richly polished. “A fainting couch? Oh, Applejack, you are a true romantic!”

Blushing more deeply, Applejack scratched a hoof at stray piece of hay on the floor. “Tweren’t nothin’. Granny Smith kept this old settee in the guest room for years. Mac an’ Applebloom helped me fix it up an’ get it converted to a faintin’ couch. Ah was gonna save it fer Hearts an' Hooves Day, but Ah thought you could use it right about now.”

“Oh, I can use it, certainly, but not alone. Applejack Apple,” smiled Rarity, planting a kiss on the mare’s red-blushing orange cheek, “you, my love, are indeed the best thing ever.”

Crossed in the Mail

Dear Mister / Mrs / Miss [Apple, Applejack],

Thank you for bringing the needs of patient [Apple, G. Smith] to our attention. We appreciate the opportunity to earn your trust and your business. We here at Ponyville General Hospital take great pride in both our facilities and our legacy, as well as in our professional and courteous staff. We have dutifully and thoroughly evaluated your request regarding the patient’s need for [hip replacement, right rear and left rear, total / long-term care facility placement]. Below please find the notes and / or comments specific to this case.

[Evaluated “Granny” for double rear hip replacement. Age of subject indeterminate; claims to have helped settle Ponyville. Currently relies on walker and family assistance. Subject’s health not conducive to multiple invasive surgeries. Likelihood of complications and prosthesis / artificial hip rejection high. Mental state questionable; may not be able to consent to surgery, likely does not understand risks and long recovery time required. Board recommendation: deny. Advised subject and caretaker to reduce subject’s activity levels as needed, treat pain symptomatically, and continue to rely on family support.

Evaluated for placement in Ponyville Pines Elder Care. Subject combative at prospect of leaving home and family. Mental state questionable, high probability of dementia / Alzheimare’s. Mobility impaired by deterioration of both rear hip joints (see previous note). Board recommendation: deny. Advised subject and caretaker to plan for long-term at-home care provided by live-in family members. Subject will require constant supervision.]

We trust that you will find this report comprehensive and satisfactory. If you have any further questions please do not hesitate to contact us.

Sincerely,

Medical Consulting Board
Ponyville General Hospital / Inpatient Surgery

CC: Ponyville Pines Elder Care Facilities

~~~~~

Dearest Rarity,

Many thanks for gracing our Canterlot operation with your recent visit. As you saw, we run an integrated operation here. All aspects of fashion, from design, marketing, and sales, to production and warehousing, are centralized in a single location. This allows us an unprecedented level of control over quality and distribution. It is critical that we maintain this edge over competitors both foreign and domestic.

Unfortunately it will not be possible to bring you on staff without relocating you to Canterlot. As we discussed, ours is an agile industry and mere hours can mean the difference between bringing a cutting-edge design to market and losing rack space to competing fashion houses. The time and expense of constant travel to Ponyville and back on both our parts would not be sustainable long-term.

Certainly your skill and dedication to your art are considerable. The door is open if you wish to reconsider. I will continue to send custom orders to your attention whenever possible. No hard feelings between professionals, I trust.

Yours,

Fancy Pants

~~~~~

Mac,

Howdy cousin! Hope Granny and little Bloom are doing well. I heard Sweet Apple Acres had a bad year or two lately – whole south orchard lost to Root Rot, that right? Thank the Princess we’ve been okay here. Little dry lately but the Buffalo have been great. Ever since we hammered things out with their stampede grounds, they’ve been mighty fine neighbors.

Can’t wait for you to get here to APPLELOOSA! I fixed up the guest room for you – not much to it, but it’ll get you by while you look for a place of your own. I know you said cousin AJ won’t be joining you, and I understand completely – your coming here means she has to stay behind. Somebody’s gotta take care of the old homestead, and she’ll do a bang-up job.

There’s so much for you to do here, Mac. You’re exactly what we need to get our operations back on track. Most of our workers aren’t the kind of lifelong farm ponies you and I grew up as. They need a real pro to teach them apple buckin’, irrigation, fertilization, transplant technique, cultivar selection – the whole works. I’d do it but I stay busy keeping APPLELOOSA running smooth and keeping the tourists rolling in. With you here on-site, we’ll be dock-deep in apples before you know it.

Hurry on over, cousin!

Braeburn

~~~~~

Rarity,

I ain’t no good with words. I ain’t a poet or a writer, so I hope this here will do.

I don’t want you to see me no more. You were meant for better’n this. I can’t be the one to keep you tied down here when you could be so much more. Canterlot’s calling you, sugarcube. Take it, run with it, and Equestria’ll be at your hooves in no time. You deserve it, but I don’t deserve you. I don’t want to be no anchor to you. I can’t leave Sweet Apple Acres, now or probably ever.

I love you, Rares. More than the smell of apples on the breeze at dawn, the sweat of hard work, and my hat combined. Just please don’t come around no more. Forget about one dumb old farmer who’ll be stuck out here in the orchard ‘till she’s old and grey.

I’m so sorry, sugar. I wish things coulda' turned out different. Please forgive me.

AJ

~~~~~

Applejack,

My love, enclosed please find the remains of a most curious letter of yours which I only this morning received. I tried reading it but the majority of its words made little sense, and I seem to have burned the dreadful thing to ashes – purely accidentally, I assure you. As such I remember nothing whatsoever of its contents.

We have always had our traditional weekend meal at your home at precisely seven o’clock. I trust that is still our little “family meal”. I will bring a casserole and a most delicious appetizer – the canapé recipe I received from mother is simply marvelous!

After dinner we shall discuss the hiring of an in-home nurse for you dear grandmother’s care. She deserves it, as do you, and I will help locate the additional funds required. Also, as I do have some experience with the hiring and vetting of temporary workers (as even my vaunted skills are occasionally overtaxed during the busy season), I shall be delighted to assist you in locating additional seasonal help after your dear brother departs for quaint Appleloosa.

I shall see you tonight for dinner, dearest, and Celestia willing, every day thereafter.

All my love forever,

Rarity

Tickets

“Sis, this here math homework Miss Cheerilee gave us don’t make no sense. Can you give me a hoof?”

“In a minute, Applebloom. Ah gotta fix Granny’s walker first. Won’t take but a second.” Cursing under her breath, Applejack picked up a rusty wrench in her teeth, wrapped her forelegs through the rickety walker, and fought a losing battle against a stubborn bolt. “Just a little more, Ah almost got it…”

A violent crash followed by a sickening snap echoed from outside, sending the wrench twirling out of the farmer’s grip. “Ow! Ow! Dang it, mah teeth cain’t take much more o’ this.”

From an adjoining room came the sounds of a nap interrupted. “Huh? Wuzzat? Sprites comin’ fer the zap apples again? Applejack! Applejack, where’s mah walker? We got sprites attackin’!”

Trotting to the door with a hoof held to her aching jaw, Applejack called behind her, “It ain’t parasprites, Granny. It’s just Caramel bein’ Caramel.” Shaking her head, she flung open the creaking porch door. “Caramel! What the hay’s goin’ on out here? You manage to demolish the whole barn this time?”

“N… No,” stammered a tan stallion as he stood withers-deep in crushed apples and shattered wood, “it’s the cart. I loaded it up like you said, four barrels deep, and it just collapsed on me!”

The orange mare’s hoofstomp thundered off the porch timbers. “Consarn it, Caramel! Ah said, four bushels, not four barrels! Now look what you gone an’ done. Cart’s old as the hills, it cain’t take that kinda weight. Mah best cart ruined, four good barrels smashed, and a whole afternoon’s apple buckin’ gone to waste.” He began to protest but her raised hoof cut him off. “This ain’t like losin’ some grass seed at Winter Wrap Up, Caramel. This here’s a load o’ bits Ah cain’t get back. Now go home. Go on, get! A’fore Ah say somethin’ Ah’ll regret. Don’t come back tomorrow, neither.”

A red-bowed filly's head peeked out from the kitchen door. “Sis! What about mah homework? An’ Ah’m gettin’ hungry, too. You said we’d eat soon, an’ that was an hour ago.”

Applejack spun on her hooves and shouted, “Ah said Ah’d be right there, AB! If you’re hungry, try eatin’ a gol-dang apple! If’n you can find a whole one.”

The tiny yellow filly shrank back inside, pausing to grab a stack of books and paper before galloping up the stairs, the sound of a slamming door reverberating down the stairwell. A shaking white-haired mare tottered in the kitchen doorway. “Applejack! What kinda commotion you been stirrin’ up now? Sounds like some durn manty-korn got loose in here! And what’s that there smell?” The elderly green-coated pony sniffed the air and held a hoof to her wrinkled nose as a thin wisp of smoke wafted across the cramped room. “Ain’t been an apple burned in mah oven in goin’ on fifty years, an’ there ain’t gonna start bein’ one today! Don’t you worry none, Ah’ll get it…” She took a few steps on wobbling hooves before her eyes grew wide and her gnarled hoof lost its purchase on the doorframe.

“Granny Smith, no!” The blonde-maned pony shot across the room, leaping the table to catch her grandmother mid-fall. Pausing to catch her breath, she slowly escorted the lime-green matron to a moth-eaten rocking chair in a sparse den. “Ah told ya to stay put, Gran! Ah’ll get the walker fixed up, and Ah’ll take care o’ supper, an’ everything else. Now sit yer stubborn flank back in that rocker, and don’t let me catch you wanderin’ off like that again.”

Panting heavily, she followed the trail of smoke back to the oven where a tray of fritters lay hard and blackened. She reached for the ruined tray and instantly recoiled in pain. “Mother bucker! Dangit, AJ, try a potholder next time, ya worthless horse…”

“Applejack Apple!” The condemning cry came from the still-open door to the porch, now occupied by a mare whose icy gaze was matched only by her snowy-white fur. “There is absolutely no cause for language like that, and certainly not when your little sister and your dear grandmother are in the house.”

“Rarity, now ain’t the time. Ah got mah hooves full here.” The earth pony tossed the stinking tray into the sink with a great clatter, burned fritters sliding down its bent surface.

“Did you not learn your lesson from last Applebuck Season, dear?” Cantering over to the orange mare’s side, she removed her companion’s weatherworn hat and set it aside, gently stroking the unkempt mane it revealed. “You know I’m here for you, darling. All the girls are. You only need ask.”

“Rares, Applebuck Season is once a year, over an’ done with. But this here… this ain’t somethin’ the girls can help with. This here’s been every day since Mac left for Appleloosa. Every dang day, Rare!" Slumping against the sink, the weary farmer's head fell to her hooves. "Ah cain’t do it, sugar. It’s just too much. Too much AB, too much Granny, too much Sweet Apple Acres… Ah feel like the sorriest sack o’ rocks sayin’ that, but Ah cain’t help it. Ah miss Mac, too.” She nuzzled the perfumed violet mane beside her and stifled a sob. “Ah love ya, Rares, Ah do. Promise. But Mac was my rock, an’ it don’t feel like family here without the big galoot. The chair at the head o' that table weren't meant to be empty.”

Leading her tired partner to the table, Rarity took a seat and motioned for Applejack to do the same. She opened her saddlebag with a flare of magic and revealed a sheaf of documents. “AJ, I have some paperwork for you. First is a contact for Granny’s medical help. The girls and I pooled our bits and convinced Nurse Tenderheart from Ponyville General to attend to your dear Granny’s needs. She will stop by each day after her shift ends and check her health, assist with physical therapy, and help out as needed with baths and light meals. She is not a live-in helper but it should suffice.”

"Y'all all went together an' did this? Rares, the Apple family ain't a charity case, Ah can..." A piercing glare from across the table silenced her instantly. Applejack hung her head and held the papers in trembling hooves. “Ah don’t know what ta say, sugarcube. Ah…”

“Then say ‘thank you’ when you see the girls again. Even when they can’t come to help, they're still with you in spirit." The alabaster mare lay a flawless hoof on Applejack's own. "The next two documents are work agreements for field hands. I spoke with Blueberry - yes, I know he’s a former suitor of mine, but those days are long past, I assure you - and he recommended two experienced seasonal workers from his staff. He owns the vineyard across town and his operation runs like clockwork. Unlike poor Caramel, who takes directions as well as Pinkie takes sedatives, these are experienced farm hands who know the work quite well. It’s up to you to find the bits to pay them, but I assure you, they will be worth every bit paid in reduced frustration and increased productivity.”

She smiled and placed a tender kiss on Applejack’s tear-streaked muzzle. “The last item you hold is a round trip train ticket to Appleloosa. A room at the inn awaits you there. Go and see Macintosh, dear. He misses you as much as you miss him, and the trip will do you good. I’ve closed the Boutique for the next two days. Sweetie and I will stay here to take care of AB and Granny Smith while you’re away.”

“Rares,” she gulped, “Ah don't deserve a mare like you. What do Ah say to all this?”

“Just kiss me, AJ, and say ‘I love you and I’ll be back soon’. I’ll be here for you when you return, dearest. I always will.”

Calendar

Applejack lay in her bed, hooves still stained earth-brown and dull ache throbbing through every muscle. Her mane tangled and unkempt, she breathed deeply, inhaling familiar scents of dusty and sweat-stained sheets, the tartness of apples in the evening’s meal, and crackling pine in the downstairs fireplace. Floral scents also invaded her nose, too sweet and out-of season to be anything other than a certain snow-white mare busying herself about the room with a feather duster.

Eyes closed, Applejack mumbled, her muzzle half-buried in her pillow. “Rares, y’all can save the dustin’ till tomorrow. I ain’t even had a shower yet, and I ain’t plannin’ on one tonight. Just let me get some sleep and y’all can come over in the mornin’ and we’ll clean up together.”

Rarity sniffed, a cloud of dust erupting from atop a high wardrobe as she ran the duster down its length in a magical grip. “Nonsense, my dear! I’m almost finished dusting, and after a little more tidying, we’ll have your quaint little abode positively sparkling. Well, presentable, at least.” Pausing to admire her work, she continued, “Besides, it’s something of a New Year’s Eve tradition in my family. Sweeping out the old year, cleaning to make room for the new year, and so forth. A bit passé, but charming in its own way.”

The farmer snorted and turned to face her nightstand and the wall beyond. “Call it off, sugar. It’s been a long day. Long month, if’n you want the truth. Mac bein’ gone to Appleloosa, all the trouble we had gettin’ good hired help for the Autumn harvest, and the late winter weather them featherbrained pegasus-types sprung on us, mean I ain’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks.” She yawned into a hoof and licked her parched lips. “Just cause it’s New Year’s Eve don’t mean I cain’t rest a little. I earned it now, if’n I ever did. Go on home, Rare. Come by for breakfast and we’ll sweep in the new year or whatever y’all want.”

The seamstress’ nose twitched at the annoyance creeping into Applejack’s voice, and she sighed. “As you wish, love.” She crossed the few steps to the bed and leaned down to kiss an orange ear when a rough hoof stopped her inches away.

Applejack’s jaw was hard set and her eyes shot open, focusing on an empty spot on her nightstand, a rough rectangle clear of dust. “Where’s my calendar, Rarity?”

The unicorn stepped back, nonplussed by the question, confusion in her tone. “This is New Year’s eve, my dear AJ. The calendar ends tonight. I can bring you another tomorrow, it’s certainly no trouble.”

Sitting up abruptly, her forehooves on the nightstand, Applejack turned to Rarity and glared sharp holes through her. “That calendar weren’t yours to throw away. You mean to tell me you just in an’ rifled through all my stuff, and threw it out?”

“N.. No, AJ, just the calendar. I have it right here, in fact.” With a flash of magic she rummaged through a trash can, extracted the tattered calendar and shook off the dust, and levitated it softly onto the bed. “It was open to this month, and I admit, I did look through it. Only the calendar, I promise I haven’t been snooping.”

Applejack held the calendar gingerly in her hooves. “How much did you see?”

“Nothing. Really, Applejack, there wasn’t much to see.”

The farmer flipped a few pages and furrowed her brow. “Weren’t much, huh? Then you ain’t been lookin’ too close, I gather.”

Rarity stood back and raised an eyebrow. “I examined the entire calender, I’ll have you know. From ‘Greasy Gert’s Grub-N-Go,’ I believe. All I found were random marks on a smattering of peculiar dates. In fact, the calendar was empty for the past several weeks - the last marking of any kind was a checkmark of some sort immediately after Nightmare Night. It must not be particularly critical to you if you haven’t marked anything at all in eight weeks.”

The orange mare stood to her hooves, her eyes steely and her voice harsh. “Not critical? You sure, Miss Prissy?”

Taking another step backwards, Rarity stammered, “You hadn’t even marked the important dates, AJ. Not Hearth’s Warming or the Summer Sun Celebration, no harvest or Apple Buck dates, not even the opening day of market season.”

Applejack stamped a hoof against the bare floorboards, the echo ringing like a thunderclap. “An’ you didn’t see nothin’ important about that, Rarity? You didn’t see all them marks before an’ after Applebuck Season, or the ones in the summer after Mac left? Nothin’ stood out to you ‘bout them dates at all, Rare?”

“No! Nothing important, AJ, not that I saw. Now, sweetie, let’s -“

Eyes flashing and muscles tensed, Applejack hurled the calendar across the room, its weathered pages striking the unicorn full in the chest before fluttering to the floor. “Then take the darned thing and trash it! Whatever y’all want, just get out, an’ take that thing with you.” She shook her head and fell heavily back into bed, drawing the covers up to her muzzle. As she blew out the last lantern lighting the spartan room, she added, “Y’all heard me. If you ain’t figured that calendar out yet, then don’t come back ‘till you do, you hear?”

Seconds passed into minutes in the darkened room as both ponies remained still, their silence broken only by heavy breathing and tiny splashes against the bare floor.

Finally Rarity managed a whisper. “Nightmare Night. That was when we spotted Twilight and Luna heading back to the Library. And we told ourselves it would be a shame if they… outdid us. And we - “

“We didn’t make it back to my barn until after midnight,” Applejack added softly from her pillow, “which is why - “

“The mark was on the day after.” Rarity swallowed hard and continued, “That was the last time we spent the night together, wasn’t it?”

“And all them other marks? Y’all figurin’ it out now?”

“Those were all the other days - nights, mostly - we slept together. Oh, Applejack, you marked every time?”

“Rares, I remember holidays and market days and all the rest without no calendar. But when things get rough, and life don’t seen fair, I look back at every day I marked for me, for us, an’ it all seems so much easier. Them’s the days the world melts away an’ I got nothin’ to worry ‘bout except makin’ you happy. Holidays an’ such, they ain’t so big. But the days I marked - those are the important ones.”

“AJ, has it really been two months? All the way since last Nightmare Night?”

” ‘Fraid so, sugarcube. ‘Course, now that I got my calendar back, we do have a couple ‘o hours left in the year, and…” Her sentence was cut off by the press of something warm and white, something which handed her a marker and a tattered calendar.

Author's Note

TMP Prompt # 205

A Meditation Upon the Day's Toils, or, 'Bark'

“Ooh, a stick! I can retrieve it for you! Please let me? Please please please? Stick retrieving, my favorite! Yay!” barked the little puppy, dashing madly across the grassy fields beside the latest barn raised over Sweet Apple Acres.

“Blarga blarga shucks,” chuckled the dusty and sweat-drenched farmer, “blarga blarga good dog, Winona!” Tipping her hat back, she wiped a hoof across her dripping brow and knelt down on the lush green carpet. “Winona, blarga blarga blarga - tarnation! Blarga saddlebags blarga back where they go?”

Winona grinned and yapped as an orange hoof tousled the rusty fur between her ears. “Ooh, head rubs, my favorite! Yay!” Looking down at the rumpled and half-empty saddlebags, she nodded her head, tongue slapping her nose with every bob. “Ooh, delivery service, my favorite! Yay!”

She scooped up the bags with her muzzle, leaving a dusty trail as she trotted off down the lane. The bags were only slightly bigger than the dog dragging them and gave the impression of three brownish lumps hopping merrily through wheel ruts and mud puddles. Winona paused at the gate to Sweet Apple Acres, looking back at the rustic farmhouse only briefly before bouncing away toward Ponyville.

Through busy streets and alleys she roamed, past trees and bakeries, sniffing trashcans and marking mailbox posts and fertilizing flowerbeds along the way. Now trailworn and caked with mud and not-quite-mud, the saddlebags followed her every perky step. Now and then a pony would point or wave and say, “Awww, lurga murga cute little puppy!” Ahead she spied her destination, sparkling and resplendent in the afternoon sun like a sacred golden fire hydrant.

Patiently she sat by the door to Carousel Boutique, panting raggedly with the saddlebag strap still clenched tightly in her teeth. Long minutes passed before a magenta mare opened the door, waving to somepony inside as she departed carrying a long, flowing dress. Winona leapt to her feet and darted inside, weaving between the dress and the pony’s legs as the door clicked shut behind her.

Inside a white pony was humming and smiling from her kitchen as she fretted and fussed over a table full of vegetables and breads, wines and cheeses, and more. Thoughtfully dropping the saddlebags on the softest and sparkliest pile of material she could find, Winona crept into the kitchen, the scents wafting off the table filling her nose. Curled up across the room lay a corpulent snow-white ball of fur, napping peacefully on a gilt settee.

“Ooh, cat, my favorite! Yay!” whimpered the diminutive dog, “I haven’t seen that one in two or three days – I’d better sniff her butt.” Crouching onto her haunches, she dove upward onto the gilded sofa to bury her ice-cold and dripping-wet nose a full muzzle’s length into the fastidious feline’s fancy fanny. Opalescence’s eyes flew open and she shot a pony’s height straight up, howling and hissing and clawing madly at anything and everything in reach. “Yep, same cat!” yipped the canine.

Turning to face the table and the screeching pony behind it, Winona woofed, “Ooh, cheese, my favorite! Yay!” Bounding off the couch with a crazed cat in hot pursuit, she vaulted into the midst of Rarity’s culinary masterwork and scarfed up half a dozen squares of Equestria’s finest cheeses as hooves and claws raked the table after her.

“Warga warga Applejack warga mangy cur!” yelled the flailing alabaster pony behind her as Winona rocketed off the table. “Warga my imported silk brocade! My gourmet warga warga! Warga warga detestable beast!” Tearing through the Boutique, she spotted an open window and sprung through it to freedom.

After racing back to Sweet Apple Acres, Winona lay on the farmhouse’s sprawling porch and watched the clouds roll by. “Ooh, a dog cloud! Ooh, another dog cloud! Ooh, a dog cloud!” she mused. As the sun dipped behind endless rows of apple trees, the white pony stomped down the lane and began barking at the orange pony, throwing the saddlebags at her hooves. “Warga warga my cat, my drapes, my warga cuisine! Warga barking blight!” she stammered. The orange pony put a hoof around the white one, which seemed to calm her down, and offered, “Blarga blarga too frou-frou anyway. How’s about y’all blarga blarga supper here tonight?” As the ponies stepped into the house, the orange one turned to Winona and winked, whispering, “Blarga cat deserved it, if’n y’all ask me. And, uh, blarga fer them saddlebags, Winona. Real blarga of ya.”

After waiting patiently for the inevitable table scraps, Winona trudged her tired paws up the creaky farmhouse stairs and into the orange one’s room. “Ooh, naptime! My favorite! Yay!” yawned the pup, curling up on a pile of towels by a sturdy bedroom nightstand. From her place at Applejack’s bedside she saw two ponies scurry into the room and quickly shut the door behind them. The creak of a bedspring barely registered to Winona as she lazily lifted one eyelid. “Wow,” thought the groggy puppy as she closed her deep brown eyes, “I guess they haven’t seen each other in two or three days.”

Author's Note

TMP Prompt # 245. The Prompt: Ponies being adorably cute with their pets.

Scene of a cat sitting on a “gilt settee” and describing a dog as a "barking blight” are from Henry Beard’s Poetry for Cats. Dialogue inspired by a Far Side cartoon and the Cat Diary / Dog Diary joke.

Slow and Steady

“Your sister don’t think ol’ Mac knows what’s what, but I got my eyes open. I ain’t no fool, I see what’s goin’ on. If Applejack an’ Rarity think they can pull one over on Macintosh Apple, they got another thin’ comin’, right, AB?”

“Eeeyup.”

“Now that I’m livin’ in Appleoosa helpin’ cousin Braeburn, they probably think I got no idea what they’re up to. Take last week when I visited, for instance. AJ says to me, ‘Confound that mare! Got herself a fancy hooficure an’ don’t wanna mess it up. Says she’ll faint if she gets it chipped on all them rocks an’ roots walkin’ on the path home, so I just had to let her stay the night.’ Uh huh, right. So if’n Rarity was so all-fired worried ‘bout her fancy hooficure, then how’d she get here in the first place? What you think, AB? Think she flew, or floated, or just popped in like Miss Twilight might?”

“Eeenope.”

“Right on, Applebloom! See, they think Big Mac’s a little slow, think he don’t notice nothin’. But you bet your pretty red bow that I heard ‘bout them two after their little incident under y’all’s clubhouse. Monster chasin’ after ‘em, my left hoof! Them two was gettin’ friendlier’ a frog an’ a fly, know what I mean, AB?”

“Eeeyup.”

“An’ I seen what AJ’s been doin’ with her bits, too. The farm ain’t been doin’ so swell these last couple o’ seasons, what with Root Rot in the South Orchard, crazy weather, an Applejack havin’ to take off all the time to Luna-knows-where savin’ the world an’ what have you. So whenever I come by she has me look at the ledger to see if I can squeeze a few more bits outta the purse, an’ what do I find? All the bills paid, the cupboard stocked, your schoolin’ taken care of, and yet there’s missin’ bits. Know what I found, little sis?”

“Eeenope.”

“A receipt to Sparklin’ Stone’s jewelry store for matchin’ rings! Custom fittin’s, fine chains, an’ everythin’. Yep, your big sis’s plannin’ on makin’ an honest mare outta Miss Rarity. Addin’ another seat at the Apple family table, as it were. Cain’t put one over on Mac, can y’all?”

“Eeenope.”

“Seat at the table, an’ more, I bet. I don’t snore none, an’ I don’t thrash around none when I knock out for the night, so I sleep real peaceful an’ real quiet, right? So when I drop by to stay the weekend, like last month, she forgets I’m in my old bedroom. Them walls in the old family home ain’t exactly millstone-think, you know? So she thinks I don’t hear what’s goin’ on next door. All that gigglin’ an carryin’ on, and what not. You follow, ‘Bloom?”

“Eeey … uh, eeenope.”

“Them two think I’m some kinda big gullible galoot! Just yesterday I was in town visitin’ friends an’ ran across Miss Rarity an’ Miss Fluttershy at the market. Miss Rarity’s explainin’ how she couldn’t go home the night before ‘cause it was pourin’ rain, an’ so she had to stay with Applejack. ‘Cept it was barely drizzlin’ an’ it ain’t poured rain in weeks, an’ not two minutes later Rarity open her saddlebag an’ shows off her fancy new frou-frou rain poncho. Don’t that beat all, AB?”

“Eeeyup. Say, big brother, are you mad at AJ an’ Miss Rarity for keepin’ all this from you? Or at least tryin’ to?”

“Eeenope. Why would I be upset, ‘Bloom?”

“Well, you been talkin’ my ears off ‘bout all the times they’re tryin’ to fool you an’ trick you an’ pull the wool over your eyes, an’ it kinda sounded like you was a little sore ‘bout it all.”

“Applebloom, sis, don’t pay no attention to me. I’m just ramblin’ on, you know? Long as AJ lets me give her away at the weddin’, or at least makes me Best Stallion, then they got my blessin’. All that matters is that them two’re made for each other, an’ that they stay happy together ‘till the sun don’t shine no more. Everythin’ else is just cider in the glass, AB. Know what I mean?”

“Eeeyup!”

Author's Note

TMP Prompt # 238. The Prompt: “Do you all think I’m a silly gullible fool?”

There are callbacks here to several other chapters of The Rustic and the Romantic, plus Cider in the Glass = Metallica song.

Tailoring the Conversation

The little yellow filly wiped two dripping-wet hooves on her oversized red bow, sliding the last clean supper dish into the drain. “Sure was nice o’ Miss Rarity to help fix dinner tonight, weren’t it, big sis?”

Applejack patiently removed the dish, dried it, and slid it into an overhead cabinet, smiling all the while. “Sure was, AB! Mighty nice o’ her.”

“Miss Rarity’s been havin’ dinner with us almost every night, ain’t she?” Applebloom asked, glancing at her sister.

“Yep. That ain’t a problem, is it, AB?”

“Nope!” The filly added as a massive grin took over her muzzle, “And you been smilin’ a lot more, too. Ever since Miss Rarity started comin’ over all the time by herself, not just with all your other friends, you been happier’n a pig on clean-out-the-cupboard day! Is that ‘cause she’s gonna have yer foals, sis?”

Though the evening meal had long since ended, Applejack’s craw found something somewhere deep down to dredge up and choke on. “W… What? AB, that ain’t how it works!”

“How what works, sis?”

“Foals, ya little… foal! It – you just don’t – oh, sweet Celestia, I gotta sit down fer this one.” The orange mare sank back into a chair at the unadorned wooden kitchen table, panting heavily and eyes wide.

Applebloom pulled a chair up next her sister, perched like a vulture who’d spied her next meal. “Is it time for the birds an’ bees talk, Applejack? ‘Cause Alula asked ‘bout where foals come from in class last week an’ Miss Cheerilee said we should ask our parents about havin’ the birds an’ bees talk.” Her bow and her eyes drooped a little as she continued, “I asked Mac but he got all quiet an’ stopped movin’ for like an hour, then he mumbled somethin’ and it sounded like ‘Ah’m gonna have to owe ya one, AJ’. I tried askin’ Granny too but she thought I was askin’ bout chickens an’ bugs. You’re my big sister, Applejack, but you’re the closest thing I got to a momma, so – can I ask you?”

Sweat trickled down the farmer’s temples. “You sure ‘bout this, AB? ‘Cause I can put it off ‘till another day, if’n you like.”

“Nope! Chores’re done and so is my homework, and Granny’s done settled in fer her evenin’ nap, so this here’s the best time I got. Is Miss Rarity gonna be in our family too, sis? Am I gonna get a new big sister? Or is she gonna be my new momma? Does that mean she’s gonna be your momma an’ Mac’s too?”

“Hoo-wee,” Applejack sighed as she wiped her brow, “is it a dang sight hotter in here, Applebloom? I cain’t quite think straight.”

Red bow flailing as she shook her head, the filly responded, “Breeze feels fine to me, sis! Now are you gonna tell me ‘bout where foals come from, an’ what Miss Rarity has to do with it?”

Applejack started slowly, voice low and eyes glazed as she stared off into the distance. “Well, you see AB, when a mare and a stallion really love each other, they kinda - well , they, uh…”

“They do a special hug, right? And then a lotta months later a foal or two comes outta the mare.”

The elder sister seemed to perk up and she started to bolt from the creaking chair. “Well, AB, sounds like you sure know yer stuff! Guess we’re done here, okay?”

“No way, sis! I wanna know about that there special hug! ‘Cause I hug lotsa ponies I love, and ain’t none of ‘em ever had a new foal afterwards. So what’s so special about that hug? If that’s where foals come from, does it work if there ain’t a stallion, just two mares? Is it like the hugs you been givin’ Miss Rarity in the barn? Applejack, is Miss Rarity really gonna have yer foals in a couple o’ months?”

A twitch began to develop in Applejack’s eye, a peculiar facial tic she’d only ever seen on a certain white unicorn when the Cutie Mark Crusaders offered to help her with dressmaking. Her drawl slowed to a crawl and she turned to look at her diminutive sibling as if she were a coiled viper. “Okay, let’s take this real slow and real easy, AB. Yep, it takes a stallion and a mare to make foals, and it does involve that, uh, special hug. It ain’t the kinda hug you’re givin’ to folks at the family reunion, or to them Crusaders – at least, I dang sure hope not. No, two mares cain’t make foals. Don’t go askin’ Miss Twilight ‘bout that, ‘cause she’ll probably say magic can do some funny stuff, but normally, the answer’s no.”

Drawing in a sharp breath, she put her forehooves on the table and leaned in a little closer to the rapt filly. “So that means no matter what kinda hugs you think you saw me tradin’ with Miss Rarity in the barn, she ain’t gonna have my foals, you got that?” Getting a slow and deliberate nod from the yellow pony, she exhaled for what felt like the first time in hours. “Now, just ‘cause two mares cain’t have foals o’ their own, don’t mean they cain’t fall in love, or get married, or none o’ that.”

Applebloom furrowed her brow and stared at the time-worn tabletop for a few seconds before looking up expectantly. “So, um, sis? Are you an’ Miss Rarity marefriends, like… like all romantic an’ stuff? Like havin’ a coltfriend, but… but she just ain’t a colt?” It was the orange mare’s turn to deliver a slow and deliberate nod of her own. “Are you in love with Miss Rarity, Applejack?”

Applejack’s eyes grew wet for a moment and a grin wider than the North Orchard graced her muzzle. “Sure am, AB! Sure as sunshine.”

The little filly took Applejack’s hooves in her own and began to bounce in her seat. “So are you an’ Miss Rarity gonna get married? Is she gonna be my sister too? Can I be in the weddin’? Can we invite Sweetie an Scootaloo an’ Babs? Can - ”

“Whoa, there, filly! Slow down. Yep, one day, ‘fore too long, I’m gonna make Miss Rarity into Miss Rarity Apple. She don’t know it yet, an’ I gotta pick just the right time, ‘cause I wanna do it real proper-like. An’ when we do, we’ll find a place in the weddin’ for everypony , don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

She drew the hopping filly into a warm embrace and kissed her forehead. “Now if I’m like a momma to you, AB, then that’s how I want you treatin’ Miss Rarity, hear? An’ if I catch you callin’ her Momma Rarity ‘fore I’m ready, I’ll toss yer hide in the creek, got it?”

Author's Note

TMP Prompt # 212. Based on and expanded from the first 225 words of my submission for TMP prompt #194, “Not Making Progress”.

The Quiet Revelations

Mac’s gone to Appleloosa. Gone to stay, Ah hear. Braeburn got him set up real nice! Colt’s got a good job makin’ a load o’ bits, plenty o’ responsibility, an’ everypony in town lookin’ up to him, so Ah don’t blame him. When he heard about Granny, he started sendin’ bits back home - well, mah home, now, Ah guess - but that’s the most Ah hear from Mac these days.

Granny herself ain’t what she used to be. Ah thought when her hips went bad an’ she got confined to her rockin’ chair, she’d go stir crazy. But she’s… Ah don’t know, tired, Ah guess. Always seems tired now, like losin’ her get-up-n-go just took the fire right outta them old bones. Some days she naps so long an’ so hard, Ah gotta poke her to make sure Mac an’ I shouldn’t be performin’ last rites.

AB’s off with her cousin from Manehattan. Her and her Crusader friends took off a while back an’ I ain’t seen the lot of ‘em since. Ah guess they’re havin’ a right nice time, ‘cause they ain’t come to me for help or to borrow nothin’. Usually that’d make me a mite suspicious, ‘cause that there’s a passel o’ ponies ya’ll don’t ever wanna lose track of.

Ah guess it’s all just… quiet now. Too quiet, like eerie-quiet. Ah cain’t remember it ever bein’ this quiet on Sweet Apple Acres. Even after dark, after the last crickets done tucked in fer the night, Ah could always hear Mac snorin’, or AB sneakin’ to the kitchen, or Granny talkin’ to pictures of Momma an’ Daddy like she used to.

Ah asked Shy about it a while back, when it first started botherin’ me. Anything louder’n a mouse fart’ll scare that filly half to death, so Ah thought she’d be right at home when everything’s quiet. Turns out she’s ‘bout the same as me. If’n a pony every loved her animals more’n life itself, Fluttershy’s the one. Some o’ her critters are nocturnal , and all that skitterin’ and flappin’ and clatterin’ around is what gets her to sleep at night. She said one night she woke up in a screamin’ panic, not ‘cause some ruckus woke her up, but because she didn’t hear nothin’. No raccoons, no possums, no mice, nothin’ at all, an’ all she could think of was that somethin’ awful snuck in and snatched away her little friends. Turns out it was Princess Luna herself standin’ in Flutters’ garden, just as calm as you please, as if everypony should expect a midnight visit from royalty every now an’ again. Luna was askin’ Shy’s advice on courtin’ Twilight, if’n Ah remember.

Mah point was, as quiet as Shy is, she don’t like it too quiet around her. Unnervin’ and unnatural, she said, but somehow she always got by. Ah asked her how she could sleep wonderin’ if every quiet moment was somethin’ goin wrong, somethin’ just plain not right. Ah musta’ been shakin’ like a leaf, ‘cause she gave me a big ol’ hug and told me somethin’ that Ah ain’t never gonna forget. She whispered, “Applejack, there are things everypony needs to hear. They’re always there, if we only remember how and what to listen for.”

Well, shoot. That there’s a piece o’ wisdom Ah’ll carry to mah grave. It makes me wanna scoop Applebloom up in mah arms, take ‘er outside one quiet night, an’ just let ‘er listen. That ain’t the way to show her, o’ course, so Ah hope one day she’ll come to me an’ Ah can teach her what Shy taught me, the right way, ‘cause Ah’m hopin’ them few little words might just get me through these quiet nights.

You see, Ah been courtin’ a mare o’ my own. More’n that, Ah guess. We been together a good while now, an’ everypony in Ponyville knows about us, so it ain’t exactly a secret. We ain’t tied the knot yet, but Ah cain’t wait too long. Holy mercy, she’s beautiful! An if she’s perfection walkin’ on the outside, that ain’t nothin’ compared to her heart. Ah guarantee this place’d have collapsed if Ah hadn’t lucked up an’ found Rarity. Ah don’t deserve that mare. Ah told her so, told her to leave this here farmer behind an’ forget it all. Dang if she didn’t show up the next day, set me right, and went on like nothin’ happened.

Rarity don’t stay here every night, o’ course - she’s got a business to run, and them fancy dresses ain’t gonna sew themselves. Sometimes she does, though, and I wouldn’t trade them nights for every barrel o’ cider in Equestria. Most nights she comes over, we have dinner, talk a little, an’ head to bed. More often than not Ah’m so plum tuckered from workin’ that Ah’m asleep afore she’s even in bed. Not every night, mind ya. But when she’s over, she’s over to stay, and when Ah fall asleep next to her, Ah ain’t never once woke up without her. It’s like even in mah sleep, Ah can feel the bed get warmer, feel that snow-white coat in mah hooves, smell her mane, like vanilla an’ lavender, an’ hear her heartbeat. She’s at her place tonight, but’ it’s like she never left - Ah can still smell her on mah sheets, Ah can hear that heartbeat…

Sweet Celestia’s glory, that’s it, ain’t it? That’s what Shy was talkin’ about - the thing Ah need to hear, if only Ah’d remembered what to listen for.

That there’s the one thing Ah been missin’, thinkin’ mah nights’re too quiet. All this time, Ah been frettin’ and fussin’ about not hearin’ the ponies Ah grew up with anymore, and right here’s a pony who don’t want nothin’ more than to grow old with me. An’ no matter what’s goin’ on, if Ah’m buckin’ trees or sittin’ on this here porch like Ah been doin’ all night, over all the quiet or all the din, Ah can still hear that heartbeat.

Ah do remember, Ah told Rarity that if Ah asked her to give me her hoof, Ah’d do it real proper-like. Guess Ah better head into Ponyville tomorrow. Figure Ah’m gonna be needin’ a couple o’ rings.

Answers Above

A snow-furred pony stood under towering trees and swaying branches, the night sky cloudless and sparkling above. Though the evening air blew cool and dry, she shivered visibly. Clearing her throat she lifted her head with unsteady pride, squared her jaw, and spoke aloud.

“Good Sir, Good Madam, I do apologize for the late hour of my visit. I hope you shall forgive me this little oversight. And doubly so, for I do realize that this is our first visit. Oh, the impropriety! I am quite embarrassed at this turn of events, for it was my fondest wish to meet you before today. My thanks as well for allowing me the convenience of a visit at this late hour. Perhaps at some other date we can discuss pleasantries and the small things of the world, but tonight I have a most pressing and quite personal matter to discuss.

“Your hospitality know no bounds, and it shows in your family. To a pony they are kind, generous, and loving, each and every one a hard worker and a fast friend. None of them have ever met a stranger, and from the most rambunctious and precocious filly to the quietest and strongest stallion they are the finest ponies I have had the pleasure of meeting. All that is certainly a reflection on yourselves. I have heard tales around the dinner table and the bonfire about their years with you. However difficult their lives may have been, however rough or hardscrabble their upbringing, your children are quite wonderful and I am blessed to know them. All this too is a reflection of you - your teaching, your upbringing, and the values you gave these ponies in their youth. For that I thank you most humbly, for the ponies you raised are like a family to me.

“It is the subject of family, you see, that brings me here tonight. Sir, Ma’am, I confess, I have fallen in love with your eldest daughter. We met some years ago and became close friends. I believe at the time she found me too proper, too wedded to a love of high society and what she so quaintly called the ‘highfalutin’ life’ to see in a romantic light. And I as well found her perhaps too rustic, too rough, for what I thought were my oh-so-refined tastes. Oh, how wonderfully wrong I was!

“Through mutual friends we shared many adventures and with each one we became closer. I saw in her a vibrant natural beauty and unparalleled strength of both body and character. I was taken, heart and soul. I am head over hooves in love with her and I cannot imagine my life without her.

“Therefore I come before you tonight to request your elder daughter’s hoof in marriage. Please forgive my nerves, my dears – I have never been so sure of anything in my life, yet here I stand, shaking before such fine and kindly ponies. We two are mares, I realize, and I hope you can find it in your heart to bless our union. I can think of no higher honor than to take a place within your family. Whatever you may decide, I thank you both for entertaining my request tonight. Good day, Ma’am, Sir, and thank you again.”

From somewhere beyond the heavens two brilliant lights winked into view and streaked across the sky, flaring bright and briefly, Luna’s stars bowing dim and deferential before them,

The alabaster mare still stood rooted to the spot, her eyes skyward and her muzzle wet.

Minutes or perhaps hours later she found an orange hoof around her shoulder. “Sorry to put y’all through that, Rares. I know y’all probably think that was silly an’ sentimental, my folks bein’ gone an’all, but… Well, I appreciate that you went through with it, sugarcube.”

Rarity sighed deeply and smiled. “Not silly at all, Applejack, dearest. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Scratching a hoof in the dusty orchard path, Applejack stared downward, her voice low and quavering. “So, did, uh… did y’all get an answer?”

Turning and gently lifting the farmer’s muzzle to meet her own, Rarity whispered, “How shall I put it, my dear?” Pausing, she lay a tender kiss on top of Applejack’s muzzle and asked, “My love, how does a winter wedding sound to you?”

Happily Ever After, Checklist Never Ending, Part 1

Wedding Planner’s Journal, Volume 1, Phases I, II, and III

HRH/PC T. Sparkle, coordinator.

Phase I, T minus 9 months

BUDGET. The budget for this event is to be flexible. Traditionally the bride’s father pays for the wedding, while the groom’s family handles the reception plus attire for the groom and groomscolts. In this case the bride’s father is of modest means while Rarity herself is somewhat wealthy though highly (and quietly) generous with her funds. The main complicating factor is the fact that there are two brides and no groom, although the Applejack’s Mare of Honor insists that “we all know Applejack is the husband here.”

DATE AND VENUE. Applejack has volunteered Sweet Apple Acres as a venue and Rarity has agreed, though the ceremony will take place in the open field surrounding the South Orchard and not within the orchard itself; AJ insists that her family would not be tempted to skip the ceremony and start Applebuck Season early but Rarity disagreed. AJ relented. Date is to be two weeks prior to Hearth's Warming Eve to coincide with other family gatherings.

GUEST LIST. A preliminary guest list has been submitted to both parties. The Apple side has notably more members in its extended family; Rarity has invited a number of Canterlot and Manehattan colleagues and business associates to balance the list. Note to self: certain of her invitees may attract paparazzi; post security at the orchard gates.

OFFICIANT. Luna has volunteered to officiate. Celestia also volunteered, given that the wedding will feature all six bearers of the Elements of Harmony in one place. However, she deferred to Luna in the end, noting that the experience would help reacquaint her sister with certain Royal duties. Privately she confided to me, “Luna hasn’t done this in about three thousand years. This should be fun!”

WEDDING PARTY. Applejack’s Mare of Honor (she demands I call her “Best Mare”) will be Rainbow Dash. Her bridesmare will be Applebloom. Rarity’s Mare of Honor will be Fluttershy and her bridesmare will be Sweetie Belle. Both of the brides declined to select additional bridesmaids. Rarity’s father will give her away and Big Mac will do the same for Applejack. Scootaloo and Babs Seed will serve as flowergirls. Pinkie Pie will probably be tapped for catering and party planning while Fluttershy will handle the music arrangements. Shining Armor and Cadance were invited but could not attend because of prior commitments in the Crystal Empire. They sent their sincerest regrets; Shining promised that their wedding gift would be “out of this world.”

CO-ORDINATOR. That would be me! This was my suggestion, actually. Rarity and AJ each invited me to be a bridesmare, but as Luna would otherwise be occupied, and because rationally there was no pony better suited to the job, I volunteered to direct the event instead. With my expertise in planning and list-making, what could possibly go wrong?

Phase II, T minus 6 months

ATTIRE. Rarity has volunteered to make all the bridal wear. She says she’s had her own dress made since she was twelve.

GIFT REGISTRY. I expect many guests will bring presents, especially those from out of town, but Rarity and Applejack requested that donations be made to charity in lieu of gifts. Fancy Pants heard about the wedding third-hand and has already contacted me about his gift plans; his donation alone will probably set records, though he asked that I arrange the transfer anonymously. “It’s what Rarity would do in my place,” he told me, and he’s absolutely correct.

TRANSPORTATION. As Celestia will not be attending, she offered the use of a Royal carriage with a team of her personal guards. They will also serve as gate guards at the reception and ceremony. Luna offered the use of a squad of Night Guards and her personal carriage, which was last seen in Ponyville on Nightmare Night. I declined on the couple’s behalf, as “bat-winged terrors” didn’t seem to match the decor. Luna seemed genuinely insulted and it was all I could do to calm her down; I apologized but I suspect it’ll take more than kind words to wring forgiveness out of her. Could be painful. Could be fun. Hopefully both.

HONEYMOON PLAN. We’ve already had offers from both princesses to use various Royal properties, as well as from Cadance and Shining. Speaking of Fancy Pants, though, his “companion” Fleur offered Rarity and AJ use of her chateau for a week. She barely knows them, except distantly through Fancy, so I wonder what drove the offer? In any event, Rarity accepted; AJ relented despite the word ‘chateau’ alone sounding too frou-frou for her tastes, though I suspect she’ll change her mind when she sees the wine country hills of Prance in the late Autumn.

ENTERTAINMENT AND SERVICES. Fluttershy will co-ordinate the music and will provide her usual superb avian chorus. Pinkie volunteered Vinyl Scratch for DJ duties but AJ and Rarity politely declined. Vinyl offered to “hook us up” with Octavia Philharmonica instead, assuming Octavia has forgiven us for the Grand Galloping Gala incident(s). Several of Applejack’s relatives have volunteered to play as well, and Rarity reluctantly agreed, on the condition that fiddles and banjos not be allowed to play during the ceremony.

CATERING. Pinkie Pie accepted the couple’s invitation to be party planner and co-caterer, backed by the Cakes. Catering duties will be shared with the Apple clan. The Apples will handle the reception and the sit-down meal while Pinkie and the Cakes will supply the cake, desserts, and appetizers. Pinkie says she’s already done planning since she’s been expecting this wedding for at least three years. Can ‘Pinkie Sense’ even do that?

Phase III, T minus 4 months

GUEST LIST. The Apples from Manehattan have all RSVP’d positively but the Oranges haven’t replied at all. I sent letters, invitations, I even couriered a package to them, and still there’s no response. They’re there, it’s just… Applejack specifically asked me to get them to attend, and if I can’t, she’ll be crushed.

INVITATION SELECTION. Rarity demanded lace inserts and hoof-written calligraphy. AJ relented only after several mugs of hard cider.

MEET WITH OFFICIANT. This could have gone worse. AJ and Rarity are more nervous now than ever! I do credit my wife a great deal, however. Luna has been dutifully studying modern Equestrian customs, and I’m so proud of how far she’s come. I only wish she’d read a little about performing mare-mare weddings, which is odd given that she’s married to a mare. I don’t blame her; our ceremony was a blur to me too. Still, Celestia’s probably laughing her flank off at the thought of Luna handling pre-marital counseling!

Phase IV, T minus 2 months – see Wedding Planner’s Journal, Volume 2.

Author's Note

TMP Prompt # 206.

Yes, there's a Volume 2.

"HRH/PC T. Sparkle" stands for "Her Royal Highness, the Princess Consort Twilight Sparkle"; as we saw in "Trembling Joyful Whispers", Twilight and Luna were married before AJ and Rarity got engaged.

Happily Ever After, Checklist Never Ending, Part 2

Wedding Planner’s Journal, Volume 2, Phases IV, V, VI, VII

HRH/PC T. Sparkle, coordinator.

Phase IV, T minus 6 weeks

INVITATIONS. All invitations have been mailed, couriered, or dragonfired. Still no response from the Oranges in Manehattan, however. I love our resident Ponyville mailmare Derpy dearly, and it will take a months’ stipend with of muffins to explain why I shipped all the invitations to Canterlot and Cloudsdale and had them re-mailed from elsewhere. Rainbow asked why Derpy was even invited to the wedding; I promised her there wouldn’t be anything tall, heavy, and breakable nearby.

RINGS. With unicorns it’s easier; we can always get a ring horn-fitted, which is what Luna and I did. With Pegasi and Earth ponies, the usual options are to get matching hoof-bands or have smaller rings set as pendants for necklaces. In truth it’s really just a formality for the ceremony, as married ponies don’t typically wear their rings full-time (again, Luna and I are an exception). This will be the case for AJ and Rarity, as their work lives would make wearing rings or necklaces cumbersome and even dangerous. Still, they wanted matching rings, so Rarity agreed to forego the usual horn-ring and agreed to necklaces instead. They picked gold bands with platinum filigree, and they’re gorgeous. Rarity declined to have a jewel set on hers – when you can find a bucket of diamonds just by concentrating on a patch of dirt, the gesture means more than the stone,

CAKE. The Cakes will supply the cake as their gift to AJ and Rarity, with Pinkie’s help. I trust them to moderate her choices a bit; there’ll be enough fireworks at the wedding without cakes that explode into smaller cakes, which in turn explode into cupcakes, which was coincidentally how Pinkie described her first design.

MARRIAGE LICENSE. This went surprisingly painlessly. My compliments to the Mayor on the smoothness of this process. Oh, how I do love filling out a good, well-organized form!

MAKEUP AND MANE STYLISTS. I let Rarity handle this one, and Applejack was about as thrilled as I expected. Rarity noticed AJ’s distress and promised her that she’d keep the “frou-frou nonsense” to a minimum. I know Rarity’s been dreaming of her wedding day for years, and having to tell Aloe and Lotus to keep their hooves off her fiancée left her face twitching for days.

Phase V, T minus 4 weeks

MENU. Applejack’s family will supply a cornucopia of apple-related desserts, treats, and main dishes. Few ponies know that Sweet Apple Acres also grows a vast variety of vegetables (even carrots! Don’t tell Carrot Top.), herbs, and other fruits, so the menu won’t be all Apple apples.

FLOWERS. Fluttershy knows all the flower vendors in town and has a fantastic garden of her own, and has agreed to coordinate the floral arrangements. Apparently Roseluck, Daisy, and several other florists in Ponyville owe her major favors. For what, I didn’t ask.

Phase VI, T minus 2 weeks

SEATING. Most of this wedding and the attendant reception will be standing room only, and the meal will be buffet-style, so there’s no assigned seating. For the wedding itself, Rarity asked for traditional Bride’s Side and Groom’s Side (or in this case, Other Bride’s Side) seating. Applejack suggested we eliminate the “sides” and seat close family in the front and allow friends and extended family to mingle as they arrive. Rarity’s developing a facial tic, I think, but she agreed.

DRESS FITTINGS. This is Rarity’s moment to shine, and it seems to have disappointed her that everything went perfectly. Her designs were so flawless that not a single pony needed even the first stitch altered. Fluttershy offered to make up a complaint; it was a touching if slightly absurd gesture.

VOWS. Luna is the officiant and must approve all alterations to the traditional Royal Canterlot wedding script. That’s the official position. Behind the scenes, I’ve managed to convince her that culture, society, and yes, even the sacraments have moved on in the last thousand years. Our own ceremony was highly non-traditional because of the lack of precedent for Princesses getting married, so she doesn’t have much to go on. Rarity and AJ can thank me later for eliminating the “wife is chattel” and “second through fifth wives’ approval not required” passages.

Phase VII, T minus 1 week

LAST MINUTE. The individual tasks at this point are multiple and relatively minor thanks to thorough pre-planning. Arrival times for all parties have been confirmed. Hotels have been reserved for those out-of-town guests not staying with local friends or relatives. I scoured the wedding grounds for hidden Party Cannons, just in case; I’m not sure Granny Smith’s heart can take another point-blank confetti blast like the one at the rehearsal.

Addendum, T minus 1 day

SUPPLEMENTAL. It’s the night before the wedding. All checklists are completed and all plans have unfolded without a hitch. Everything is as ready as it can get for AJ and Rarity’s big day.

Except that I can’t find Applejack.

Author's Note

TMP Prompt # 208.

Never fear! Resolution to the cliffhanger is already written.

Winter by the Pond

Beyond Sweet Apple Acres’ East Orchard lay a clear pond whose still waters reflected both the myriad midnight stars above and the trembling image of an orange mare sitting on her haunches at its bank. One hoof holding a weatherworn hat against her heaving chest, she wept openly, falling tears the only disturbance on the placid pond.

She shivered in the chill night air while winter cold cut her to the bone. Something warm and white and entirely out of place in the rough and uncut shrublands of the Acres’ outlying fields sat down beside her. Rarity lifted a hoof to wrap around the wailing farmer, paused, and withdrew it slowly. Instead she sidled closer to the shaking pony, haunch to haunch, and leaned a little to rest side by side against her fiancée.

Long minutes passed as the sobs and wails died away. Applejack wiped her muzzle with a shivering hoof and took a great sharp breath. “How’d you know I’d be here, Rares?”

Ripples in the water showed a tired smile cross the unicorn’s face. “You always come here to think, dearest.” She paused, her breath shallow and measured. “We missed you after the rehearsal dinner, love. I convinced the families you were just being workaholic and ran off to be sure your trees would be okay without you.” She chuckled lightly in her tinkling way and added, “They’ve seen you talking to Bloomberg enough that they believed me.”

Still clutching her hat for dear life, Applejack choked, “I’m sorry, sugar. I… It’s all happenin’ so fast. Weddin’ day’s here, ain’t it? Moment o’ truth, right? So why’d I run like a scared filly out here to the middle o’ nowhere?

“Because there’s a question you haven’t asked, Applejack. You haven’t asked it because you can’t, and because you know there’s no answer to be had.” The earth pony next to her swallowed hard and started to speak but no words came out. “You wonder what your parents would think of you. What they’d think of me, of us. And they’re not here to ask or answer.”

Applejack nodded, her jaw set and her eyes glazed. “I don't wonder, Rares. I know. You know Granny already loves you like a daughter, sugar. But Grandpa Baldwin - he was a mean cuss, ornery an' set in his ways. He'd have disowned me, run me outta town, an' carved my name right outta the family tree afore he'd admit to havin' a..." She fell silent for a moment and nudged a pebble into the calming pond, starting a new wave of ripples. "...A fillyfooler in his house. Anypony 'cept an Earth Pony'd get the same treatment, I'm 'fraid. These days we're past all that, but just a generation or two ago - you've been as welcome as Root Rot, hon. Great Grandpa and his pappy were the same way too, if'n Granny's stories are true."

"But my parents, my real Ma and Pa - they’d love you, sugarcube. For all their problems, them an' Granny were like shelter in a storm when Mac an' I were growin' up. I know they'd adore you, you’re as hardworkin’ and dedicated and generous as any Apple that’s ever been. Mare or not, unicorn or not, they’d love you like I do, Rare. I just never thought they wouldn’t be around to say it to me. And to you.” She shook her head and lowered her eyes to the rippling waters. “This here’d all be so much easier if we were already hitched, Rarity. I just…”

“Then let me make this easier on you, my dear.” Rarity cleared her throat, held her head high and took a muddy orange hoof in her own. “Rarity Belle, do you take Applejack Apple to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or worse, so long as love shall last?” She leveled her gaze, azure eyes locking with the emerald green orbs across from her own, and said in a voice ringing clear and strong, “I do.”

A single tear traced a damp path down her alabaster muzzle as she smiled. “Now, AJ, my love, our wedding day is tomorrow and Hearth’s Warming Eve is in two short weeks.” She lit her horn and from a branch high above, snapped off a twig laden with oval leaves and berries whiter than her own elegant coat. Levitating the mistletoe over their heads, she whispered, “Ask yourself, do you want to be a married mare come Hearth’s Warming? Do you want to spend the rest of our lives together, Applejack?”

Applejack’s voice was as strong as applewood and all trace of hesitation evaporated like breaths that mingled together in the winter night. “I do.” She smiled, gratefully, finally, and said, “Can I kiss the bride now?”

“Not yet, Applejack. Tonight, kiss your Rarity,” she grinned. “Tomorrow, you can kiss your bride.”

Author's Note

TMP Prompt # 209.

Diminished Distance

“Mighty kind o’ Princess Celestia to lend us her personal carriage for our honeymoon trip!” Applejack clinked her glass against Rarity’s, its champagne long since drained and refilled with Apple Acres’ finest cider. “One o’ many, I guess, but still a right nice weddin’ present. And them pegasus guards looked mighty fine, too! Gold armor gleamin’ in the sun an’ all. Sure was nice of ‘em to watch over the ceremony, too.”

Rarity smiled and arched an eyebrow. “Developing an eye for fine stallions now, my dear?” She traced a hoof across the gold ring dangling from her new bride’s necklace. “A little late for that, I believe.”

“Nah, I ain’t got eyes for nopony except over-dramatic small-town seamstress types.” Applejack reached down to kiss the flawless white hoof and set her glass aside. “Especially that hot one in Ponyville with the diamonds on ‘er flank.”

She began to kiss her way up the hoof, hot breath from her muzzle warming the soft fur of the perfect foreleg in her hooves, pausing only to ascend the alabaster neck whose every curve and contour she knew so well. A low moan from the unicorn was followed by a hoof to her own chest, pushing her slowly but firmly away. “Now, now, AJ, my love, be patient!” Rarity took a deep and shuddering breath while holding the farmer at arm’s length. “It’s but a twenty minute ride to the skyship port, you know. It’s a six hour flight to Prance for the honeymoon, and we’ll have a private cabin for the trip. We’ll have plenty of time for this,“ she said as she leapt into a brief but fiery and wine-tingled kiss, “later.”

Near breathless, the orange mare bit her lip and sat back, grinning. “That a promise, sugarcube? I’ll dang sure be holdin’ you to it, then.” She reached for her glass, lifting it in toast and added, “In the meantime, hon, if I ain’t said it before – welcome to the Apple family!”

“To family, then!” Rarity drained the little remaining in her own glass and lay back against the carriage’s gilded seats. A distant and wistful look shone in her eyes. “I’m glad the Apple clan could make it to the wedding. I was afraid asking them to gather again so soon after the last family reunion would appear too great a burden.”

“Naw, they’s all family, and that’s what we do. The Apples’re a close family, if a little spread out.”

“I am glad we could tie the knot while your dear Granny is still with us, AJ.” Rarity sighed and stared out the carriage’s half-shuttered window. “My own grandmother passed away some years ago. I doubt Grandma Finery would have approved of our union, though. She was a city mare through and through. Detested the ‘country life’ and earth ponies in general, I’m quite sorry to say. Now, Great Grandmother Filigree was a different story – wise and honest, no-nonsense yet always kindly. She lived in Manhattan almost all her life but I remember her telling stories about her father. We came from a line of miners, did I ever tell you that?”

“Miners, Rare? Seriously? That would explain part of the gem-findin’ skill, I guess. All farmers on my side. Granddad Baldwin died before Mac and I came along, but Granny Smith’ll tell the family story to any pony unlucky enough to ask. Lessee, how’d it go? Great Granddad Stayman and his dad Newton were ornery cusses, all mean streak and no give. Newton hisself was a bandit, they say, doin’ more robbin’ than farmin’. And his poppa Foxwhelp weren’t no prize, neither – a real pushover and gullible as a blind goat, if’n Granny told the stories right.”

Lights of passing stars above and passing towns below reflected in Rarity’s azure eyes as she continued staring out the window. She put a hoof to her chin and squinted a little as she said, “Well, I can’t recall tales of banditry from my own ancestors, or anything else exciting, for that matter. Great-Great Grandfather Steelton was one of the miners, you see. Great Grandmother Filigree was one of almost a dozen foals of his, and they saw him only infrequently. His own father, Cobalt Scratch, was a miner as well. Neither were well off, so I’m told, though they managed. They lost track of many of the uncles and aunts and the family tree is a bit muddy before that point.”

Easing an arm around the unicorn, Applejack chucked gently. “Funny you should mention muddied-up family trees, Rare. I do remember Granny tellin’ stories ‘bout the family line before Great-great-great Grandpa Foxwhelp. See, the way the old story goes, Foxwhelp’s daddy weren’t no Apple at all. What was the fella’s name? Spartan, that was it, and his poppa Redstreak. I heard long years ago that Spartan and Redstreak were from some other clan entirely, but their momma had a fallin’ out with her folk, and changed all their names to Apple. That’s where the Apple family began – kicked outta some other family for Celestia-knows-what, some seven or eight generations back.”

From ahead of them a strong voice called out, “Touchdown at skyship port in five minutes, repeat, ETA at port is five minutes.”

Rarity started to speak, stopped abruptly, then spoke slowly. “That’s odd. Aunt Demiglace once told me a similar story. Before Great-great-great Grandfather Cobalt, the line sprung out of nowhere because the family name was invented out of whole cloth. Before him came a stallion named Carbon or Graphite or something, and before him was a mare named Jacinth… something. Jacinth Clutter, maybe? Mother was Topaz, if I remember, and it’s the same story. Had family problems and left to start her own branch. Dreadful development, but so long ago, no pony alive remembers what the issue could have been.”

Applejack turned to face Rarity and furrowed her brow. “Rarity – how’d you know about Topaz?”

Confusion showed on Rarity’s face as her gaze left the window and locked on her wife. “How did I know what, dear?”

“About Topaz Clutter. That’s the mare Granny said started the whole Apple clan, when she left her old family and…” Applejack’s eyes grew wide and her voice dropped to a loud whisper. “Rare – did Jacinth Clutter’s momma come from a small town past th’ Appleloosan Hills, a village by the name o’…”

Their voices echoed in chorus, “Windy Pass.”

The rushing of air past the windows and the steady flap of pegasus wings fell away as an eerie, palpable silence overtook the carriage. Seconds dragged by like hours before the orange mare gulped audibly. “Rares, please say you ain’t thinkin’ what I’m thinkin.”

A twitch began in the unicorn’s eye. “That we may have just un-forked our family trees? I’m afraid I am thinking exactly that, dearest Applejack.”

“So that makes us, what, exactly?” Applejack reached for her near-empty glass but found it snatched away by a flash of magic.

Rarity drained it in a single shuddering swallow. “Eighth cousins, by marriage, twice removed. Twilight could check my math but I believe that’s the essence of it.”

“But no blood relations, right, sugar?”

“None. Though let us promise never to see this mapped out, shall we?”

With a gentle rumble the carriage alit in a wide, flat plain, where a large skyship could be seen lowering a boarding ramp in the distance. “Departure in sixty seconds,” called the pegasus drivers as the Royal Carriage began rolling to a stop.

“Done. Like I said, sugarcube – welcome to the Apple family! Or, uh, welcome back, anyway.”

Author's Note

TMP Prompt # 210.

Facing Worlds

White coat glowing eerie and ghostlike in the moonlight, a pony lay facing an uncurtained window. Her bed was warm and familiar yet not her own. Miles away and inches from her another pony lay staring at bare plankwood walls and the shadows of passing clouds.

The snow-furred unicorn shifted, tossing, turning, her mouth opening and closing in silence, searching for lost words. She broke the silence, clearing her throat, and said, “Applejack, I - “

“Don’t start, Rares,” came the reply from across the bed, harsh and overloud in the midnight dark. “Whatever you’re about to say, I ain’t in a mood to hear it.”

Rarity shrank a bit under the sheets, her eyes still sparkling under the pale half-moon which crept across the windowpane. She lifted herself on an elbow and shifted, pausing when an icy chill shot up her spine despite the balmy summer night just outside the walls.

“And don’t turn ‘round, neither.” Rarity went rigid at the interruption, legs trembling and sheets quivering as long seconds ticked by. Applejack twisted her neck with a deafening pop and said, “You keep talkin’, Rarity, and I’m gonna have to answer, and I’ll regret every dang word of it come sunup.” The farmer’s heavy inhalation cut through the room like a dragon’s roar. “And if you face me, Rarity, so help me Celestia, I’m gonna regret what I say a durn sight longer than mornin’.”

Minutes masqueraded as hours in the room’s oppressive quiet. Rarity swallowed, eyes shut against the moonlight and the evening’s memories. Slowly, between thick tears and heavy heartbeats, she whispered, “Applejack, love, I did it for you.” No reproach stopped her, no admonishment from across the gulf, and she continued, “You know that, right darling? I knew how long you’d been trying, how much it meant to you, and I thought - ” She choked back something more than words and less than an apology. “I thought - “

Applejack sighed and what may once have been a whisper came out as a hiss. “No, you weren’t thinkin’ at all, Rare. You knew how long I’d been plannin’ the family reunion. This here shindig’s been in the works since afore I ever set eyes on your accursed fool hide. Yeah, we’d been tryin’ to get the Oranges here from Manehattan for years. Not we, really, just me. I’m the only one’s been anglin’ to bring ‘em to Ponyville. I ain’t seen ‘em since I was a foal, and come Tartarus or high water, I was determined to show ‘em what we Apples were all about.”

She ran a hoof through her mane, the slow movement exaggerated in shadows on the unadorned wall which held her gaze. “An’ you went an’ brought ‘em here, just like that. Like it weren’t no more trouble’n knittin’ a scarf.”

Rarity’s brow furrowed in the moonlight and she eased her eyes open. “I thought that’s what you wanted, dear, I - “

“That ain’t it, sugar. This here family - the Apple side, at least - we’re tighter’n the first dozen apples in the cider press. You think we don’t hear nothin’? I thought you were the rumor expert, Rarity. You honestly think we ain’t caught a word you said to Aunt an’ Uncle Orange?”

Rarity shook, eyes wide and watering, jaw working, and waited.

Applejack growled, “Let me refresh your memory, Rare. ‘Not exactly intellectual giants.’ ‘Half of the lot wastrels.’ ‘Less charming rustics than simple bumpkins.’ That ring a bell? I knew just as well as the next pony that them two didn’t want hide nor hair to do with the Apple clan. They came ‘cause a highfalutin’ pony like Rarity Belle invited ‘em and they wanted to see the grand ol’ spectacle. Hayseeds an’ hillbillies, rednecks an’ wetbacks. That’s what them Oranges came to see! They didn’t want the first fritter nor family photo. They wanted to look down their muzzles at the whole backwoods lot o’ us. An’ you were right there every hoofstep o’ the way, nose in the air and all.”

The moon inched past one pane then another before either pony spoke again. Rarity mumbled into the sheets, “I’m sorry, Applejack. I never meant to… ” She looked up at the window and glanced over her shoulder at the orange pony behind her, a hoof’s length away and a mile out of reach. “I should go.” She rose carefully and deliberately, sitting on the edge of the bed and silhouetted in the moonlight when the silence broke.

“Please don’t leave, Rare.” Rarity looked back again and saw the farmer’s chest heaving deeply. “I know you were just tryin’ to keep ‘em talkin, tryin’ to make conversation. That you got ‘em to show up at all when I’d been tryin’ for years was its own little miracle. I never said thanks for that, Sugar." Applejack turned her head a little and the moonlight caught something steely and hard behind her emerald eyes. "But don’t never badmouth us again, hon. Not behind our backs. I know you ain’t meant a word of it, but that ain’t no excuse.” She paused to wipe her muzzle and said, “So please, for me, lay back down. I still need you here, Rares. That ain’t changed. In the mornin’ I’ll be over this, but for now, I still need you close. A hoof’s length away ain’t so far for one night, is it, Sugarcube?”

Author's Note

TMP Prompt # 269. The Prompt: Why were we there back to back?

This story should take place right after Apple Family Reunion, but more likely it would happen after the following reunion, not the one from the show.

Title is a reference to the legendary Unreal Tournament map, not to Minecraft. There's a connection somewhere here about sniping.

Subtle Like A Hurricane

A teeming throng of ponies milled about the Ponyville Market, shoulder to shoulder as vendors called out from every store and stall. Rarity’s voice rang out above the din as she draped herself across half a dozen barrels of apples, artfully arranged before the stall of an orange mare, red now leaching from her wares and onto her cheeks.

"Treat me like you treat your orchard, dearest Applejack. Watch over me day and night, caress me with gentle hooves and work me with rough tools, and oh! What wonders I shall produce for you!" Rarity moaned. "Let me shade you when you sweat, bucking, grunting, straining as the sun sets, and when it rises again, wake to me, dewy and beckoning." She twirled an apple in her hooves, pausing to watch her breath fade from it as the pony behind the counter stood reflected in its glistening skin. "Plough my fertile valleys, till me, tend me, and when I have swelled beyond bursting, shake me like you need me and my succulent fruits shall be yours and yours alone."

A hundred ponies stood still and staring and silent. Applejack pulled her hat low and mumbled, “I swear, y’all, I don’t know this here mare. Ain’t never seen her before. I left my barn this mornin’ an’ she followed me all the way here to market. So y’all can move along, ain’t a dang thing to see here.”

Rarity rolled off the barrels and landed on solid hooves. She scratched eagerly at the dusty ground, snorting, “An athlete, sweet Applejack - that’s what you are. Powerful, swift, enduring. Let me be the wilderness you tread! Attend the running of my leaves, let me leave you winded, panting, euphoric. Scale my peaks and follow my course, pushing, striving for the sweet release at my finish line.” She dropped low to a runner’s stance, white coat gleaming in the morning sun as she whispered harshly and overloudly, “I can be the trails you hike, the hills you climb, inviting, daunting, unyielding ‘till you swear you’ll conquer me or die trying. Make me yield beneath your hooves as you crest my summit!”

"Anypony want a unicorn? Got one I’ll give up," Applejack said as she shrank behind her suddenly too-small counter board, "real reasonable-like. Sews, knits, real generous, darn useful if’n you’re into frou-frou dresses an’ such. Any takers? Please?"

Stalking behind the counter, Rarity snaked her way next to Applejack and cooed, “I know you’ve always dreamed of the ocean, my love - living life landlocked on that farm, how could you not? Then let me be your ship, and you my sea! Toss me, turn me, crash me, lash me, push me where you want me.” Half the town stood rapt, wide-eyed and slack-jawed as she continued, “Wash over me, drown me as I fight to stay upright! Leave me little choice but to furl sails and turn toward you, waiting for the building wave that will crash over me and leave me wet and gasping, soaked and helpless.”

Applejack tipped her hat back and rubbed her temple. “Rares, please, Sugarcube,” she pleaded, “I’ll do anything. You’re drawin’ a crowd, hon, an’ they ain’t starin’ at the baked goods. Just simmer down, hush up, an’ sure as sarsaparilla, we’ll - “

Eyes narrowing and locked on the weatherworn hat, Rarity smiled and ran a hoof along its trembling rim. “Ah, that’s it, my farmer, my dear! It’s that hat you’re attached to, isn’t it? I’ve seen you in more, at the wedding and at the Gala, too - and in less. Oh, how I long to be that hat! Picked up gently, lovingly, dearly each morning, spending all day in the sun atop you, growing sweatier with each passing hour, then thrown down dirty every night.” She took Applejack’s head in her hooves and turned it to face her, now muzzle to muzzle. “If you want to dress up, Applejack, then by all means, you can wear me. Wear me like a glove, lace me like a dress, and strap me like a harness.”

Shoulders slumping and eyes downcast, Applejack muttered, “Rarity, for the love o’… Oh, consarn it, fine! I give up. You win, Sugar.”

Rarity stood back and grinned at her handiwork. “So you’ll do it, then? Right here in your stall, at the height of Market Day, in front of the entire town?”

"If’n that’s what it’ll take to quiet y’all down," Applejack growled, "then I suppose I ain’t got no choice. Git over here, dangit!" To the cheers and groans of a hundred onlookers she threw her hooves around the unicorn and met her lips for long seconds, parting so suddenly her hat twirled off into the dust.

Rarity giggled her sweet, tinkling, silver-bell laugh and licked her lips. “There, now, Applejack! One simple kiss in public - that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

"Guess not, Rares," Applejack said as she shook her head and reached for her lost Stetson. "But there weren’t no need for all o’ this dramatic carryin’ on. Y’all do know I woulda done that half an hour ago if’n y’all had just asked ‘please’ the first time, right?"

"Oh, Applejack, dearest, ‘please’? You still haven’t learned, have you?" Rarity smiled as she headed off into the milling crowd, then turned and winked. "A lady never begs.”

Author's Note

TMP Prompt # 292. The prompt: Public displays of affection.

Quite possibly my most-liked submission for TMP, ever. There's a half-written NSFW version of this chapter on my hard drive, which I may eventually get around to finishing. If so, I'll post it as a separate side story to preserve this collection's Teen rating. I was going to post them simultaneously, but I'm an impatient sort.

Shout out to Haywind! Sorry it took so long to get this posted.

Lift Carefully

“Oh girls, I’m so happy you wanted another sleepover! After the first one, I was afraid it would be my last.” Twilight held Applejack and Rarity in a warm, mudmask-encrusted hug.

“Twilight, dear, don’t forget the cucumber slices,” chimed Rarity in her dulcet singsong voice. “Our little beauty treatment won’t be complete if we let our eyes get puffy.”

Applejack handed her two moist green disks and added,“Yeah, Twi, then yer sleepover checklist just wouldn’t be complete, an’ ya cain’t have that, right?”

“Completely right, AJ! Oh, can I call you AJ?” The lavender unicorn’s horn glowed as a shimmering field took hold of the slices and deposited them gently on her closed eyelids. “My book said sleepovers are the perfect time to give each other cutesy secret nicknames!”

“Ah, sure Twi. Ah’ll call ya Twi, how ‘bout that? You ready, uh… Rares?” Applejack sat back, quietly munching on her cucumber slices, giving Rarity a silent nod.

“Mm-hmm.” The white-furred unicorn slid closer to Twilight’s bed, her horn levitating a small box out from under it. The sparkling magical field opened the box gingerly and begin to rifle through the papers and thin, well-bound volumes inside it.

The orange earth pony piped up suspiciously loudly. “So, Twilight – er, Twi – what’s next on our checklist? Ghost stories? Campfire? Spin the bottle?”

“Ooooh, I feel kind of daring tonight! Maybe we’ll reverse the checklist order and complete task 47 before task 46!” She giggled a little, the dried mudmask cracking over her widening smile. “I’d feel like such a rebel! Rarity, is it time to end the beauty treatment yet?”

Rarity’s magic lifted a small, worn notebook from the box and stealthily slid it into her own diamond-marked saddlebag. She nodded to Applejack, who took a similar volume from her own bag nearby and passed it carefully to her accomplice, who quickly replaced it and scooted the box back to its underbed hideout.

The violet-maned unicorn cleared her throat. “Okay, time to wash off these masks. Ghost stories, anyone?”

~~~~~~

A single flickering lantern fought the darkness of a tightly locked and shuttered barn on the outskirts of Sweet Apple Acres. “Ah don’t like this one bit, Rares. I know Twi’s been hidin’ somethin’ from us, but stealin’ her journal? Don’t seem right.”

“It’s for the best, AJ. This is the only way to help poor Twilight with whatever’s been on her mind lately. The poor dear won’t open up to us about sensitive matters, as you well know. Now, let’s have a look at this journal.”

“Day 34: The Fashionista lured the Farmer and friends to her Boutique, where she convinced them to model dresses. Alabaster Fashionista spent inordinate amount of time fitting Farmer’s dress. Spent far too long admiring Farmer’s orange flank.”

“Uh, Rarity, I know sometimes Twi talks in code or somethin’ when she’s bein’ all evasive, but does this look like what Ah think it looks like?”

“Day 41: Fashionista consoles earth pony Farmer after Farmer fails to place first in local rodeo. All friends help but unicorn Fashonista’s hugs last twice as long and end with kisses too lingering to be merely friendly.”

“Applejack, you can’t seriously think Twilight meant me? I mean, you are certainly honest, hardworking, and athletic, and the best friend a mare could have, but I would never…”

"Never what, Rares? Ah know you ain't opposed to, you know... bein' with another mare. So what, then? It's me, ain't it?"

Rarity recoiled as if stung by the words, and stammered, "Applejack, dear, I... I meant everything I said! You're a kinder pony than I, by far, and - "

The earth mare fought back welling tears. “So Ah’m all those things but you’d never see me as marefriend material? So mah personality’s alright, but Ah… Ah guess Ah’m just not purty enough.”

“AJ, don’t say that! You’re gorgeous! Anypony can see that!”

Applejack lay back on a loose pile of hay, eyes closed and hat askew. “But ain’t nopony goin’ to say it to mah face. Ain’t no pony sees old Applejack Apple that way. Ah guess ah just…” Her words were cut off by the press of white lips, and her fears faded as she embraced the flawless unicorn now sharing her barn.

~~~~~~

“Fluttershy, what do you mean it isn’t the right notebook?” Twilight looked askance at the yellow Pegasus in her library foyer. “It certainly looks like the one you gave me to edit. Sorry I hadn’t had time to check it yet, though.”

“Well, um, I know for certain that the notebook I left for you to proofread was at least half full.” The canary-furred mare hid behind a wall of pink mane. “Oh, my publisher will be so unhappy! I was supposed to mail them my outline and notes for ‘White on Orange 2: The Barn and the Boutique’ tomorrow, and now I’ll have to start over. I don't even remember most of my notes! Maybe Angel will have some more good ideas like last time.”

Suddenly There Came A Tapping

Far from the streetlamps and crowded homes of Ponyville, Sweet Apple Acres was plunged into darkness as banks of thick grey clouds hid what pale light shone from the moon’s last thin crescent. Off in a disused corner of the farm lay a clubhouse, a single lantern within illuminating three fillies with dim flickers.

“Well, that was a total loss.” Scootaloo scowled, hooves crossed. “A whole night blown and blank flanks all around.”

“Hey!” protested Sweetie belle, pointing an accusing hoof at the orange filly. “My sister says time with friends is never time wasted!”

Applebloom nodded, her overlarge bow bouncing in time, “Applejack says the same thing, an’ ain’t never wrong ‘bout friendship. Though I do wish we coulda spent our time doin’ stuff besides pickin’ briars outta our tails. Who ever heard of Cutie Mark Crusader Snipe Hunters anyway?”

Scootaloo snorted and twitched an ear. “Blame Rainbow Dash for suggesting that one, I guess. AB, you sure we’re alone out here? We’re not exactly in bed like we said we’d be.”

The yellow pony shook her head as she worked a briar free from the lilac stripe in Sweetie’s mane. “Just us an’ the orchard, Scoots. Mac’s away in Appleoosa an’ Granny’d sleep through a tornado. I saw AJ earlier. She said she was plum tuckered and hit the bed right after we did, or after we said we did, anyway.”

The pegasus squinted her eyes and perked both ears upright, tilting her head slowly to each side. “You certain, AB? I swear I heard something out there.”

“Maybe y’all got briars in yer ears, Scoot! I told y’all, there ain’t nopony else … “

A thundering crash shook the little clubhouse, shuddering it and dropping the three fillies inside to their haunches. The lantern flickered, rocked, and tilted crazily before righting itself. Somewhere below, close enough to hear the scrape of hooves on hardwood, a muffled cry again broke the midnight silence.

“Y’all … Y’all hear that?” whispered Applebloom. “That ain’t a timberwolf, is it?”

“I don’t think so, AB.” Sweetie Belle cast nervous looks around the clubhouse, its open but pitch-dark windows offering neither help nor clue. “Whatever it is, though, it sounds like it got somepony already!”

Heavy blows rained against the clubhouse ladder, each thud shivering its walls. Finally a gasp escaped below as something weighty fell with a wet and gurgling squelch against the ramp.

Scootaloo shot to her hooves and flared her undersized wings. “That’s it, we gotta get outta here! Ramp’s out of the question, we’ll take the window.”

“Are y’all nuts? I cain’t jump that far!” hissed Applebloom.

Sweetie threw a hoof around the yellow filly as Scootaloo did the same. “No worries, AB! Scoot can hover a little and I can levitate a little. We’ll carry you down. On three!”

Ignoring the wide eyes and desperate flailing of the youngest Apple, they leapt through the largest of the treehouse’s windows. Tumbling and cartwheeling and careening to the ground, the trio landed in a tangle of bruises and limbs and dust. Spitting out a mouthful of leaves, Applebloom yelled, “Back to the house, Crusaders! We gotta get AJ!”

They sprinted the familiar path back to the looming Apple homestead, panting as they hurdled over roots and rocks they knew by memory alone. Behind them a great thrashing and grunting sound erupted from the bushes ringing the clubhouse tree, followed by thundering hooves hot on the three fillies’ trail.

“What is that? The Headless Horse?” panted Sweetie, “The Marsh Mare?”

“Whatever it is, it’s after us, girls! Faster!” cried Scootaloo as she galloped, ears flat and wings buzzing helplessly. “Oh, I’m never gonna learn to fly, never gonna fly with Dash, never gonna … “

Shapes in the darkness plunged headlong after the girls, and between moans and grunts they could make out snarls of “clubhouse … fillies … ” The three diminutive ponies screamed and crossed the last few bounds to the Apple family household in seconds, bolting through the door of the unlit kitchen and slamming it shut behind them. Before they could ascend the stairs, the rickety door exploded and screams filled the silent Apple night.

Suddenly a flare of magic lit the little kitchen, three cowering fillies bathed in its pallid glow. Two dirt-smudged and leaf-covered mares stood opposite them.

One of the grim shapes spoke, her voice harsh and accusing. “AB? What in tarnation’re y’all doin’ awake? Y’all was supposed to be havin’ a sleepover, and long since been ta bed!”

Exchanging confused glances with her fellow crusaders, Applebloom tilted her head and asked, “Applejack, we thought there was a monster, an’ … an’ … What’re y’all doin’ up at midnight yerself? An ‘why’re y’all all covered in twigs an’ dirt? An’ why is yer lasso all tangled around ya like that?” Looking at the source of the magical light, she squinted and continued, “An’ why is Miss Rarity wearin’ yer hat?”

The show-white mare cleared her throat and began, “Well, girls, Applejack and I were … “

“Yep, AB,” interrupted Applejack, “a monster! That was it. Almost ate us, right, Rares?”

“Yes, darling. Ate us. The beast nearly ravished and devoured me. Us. Correct, my dear?”

“Darn tootin'! I almost had that ornery ol’ critter licked! Then I, uh … What’re y’all all starin’ at? Was it somethin' I said?”

Author's Note

TMP Prompt # 235. The Prompt: It came from beneath! Title is from Poe's "The Raven". Cutie Mark Crusaders Snipe Hunters... see here.