God and My Right
The night breeze stealthily crept through the open window and entered Applejack’s room.
“Oh, nuts.” The rustling of the silken curtains caught the farm pony’s ear, abruptly breaking her train of thought. The orange mare moved quickly to correct the error. This was a delicate moment, and not one where nature would be allowed to intervene.
Applejack sunk back into her chair, putting her front hooves together in a meditative pose. Her eyes stared at the desk in front of her, unusually cleared of the ledgers, the booklets, the reports.
Into that empty space Applejack had placed two things: a map of the Outer Lands, and a freshly-baked apple pie.
Choose.
The farm pony continued to stare sullenly at these two objects. Choice was never something she dealt much with back in the old place. Farming was about regularities and tradition, about knowing the right times, the right places, the right people. Zap apples always appeared for five days. The best apples for cider came from the southwest plot. Big Mac plowed the fields.
Problems at Sweet Apple Acres had ‘right’ answers. And you’d have to be a foal to choose a suboptimal outcome.
Applejack couldn’t help but reminisce at this point. Of course, there was that one time she had chosen: that time when she decided the Manehattan life just wasn’t for her. It was a good choice, as far as she was concerned, and Applejack doubted she would have done otherwise, given a second shot. But was it the right choice? After all, was it not that choice that led to this? Was it not that choice that led to all this disappointment and failure and betrayal?
If she had stayed, perhaps she would have been better off; perhaps she would now be dancing with the Prince of Connemara, twirling and twirling without a care under the starry sky…
A crack from the nearby fireplace brought the farm mare back to earth. All this fancy thinkin’. The fact remained: there was a choice in front of her, and there would be no ‘right’ answer, insofar as there was no way of choosing again. The map, or the apple pie: choose.
Applejack’s green pupils turned towards the map. With the exception of Fluttershy, the same names were still there - Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Twilight Sparkle, Rarity, Applejack. Previously, those names denoted security: a solemn pact to defend against Equestria’s enemies. Now they denoted that Applejack was alone, cowering before a pack of ravenous timberwolves. They were hungrily eying her every move, begging Celestia for the orange mare to lose her footing, waiting for the precise moment for that surgical strike - as timberwolves were wont to do - that would end the country pony's pitiful struggle.
County Applejack now only bordered two counties. Rainbow Dash was openly hostile. Pinkie Pie had unfriendly intentions. ‘Dashie’...
Applejack’s furrows deepened. The timberwolves were closing in. Nopony, she was certain, was going to lift a finger to help her. But if Applejack could just land that first blow, she would have her shot at breaking out of this encirclement. Rainbow Dash’s plans would crumble into dust. But of course, that means Pinkie Pie would have to-
The orange pony shifted her gaze to the apple pie. Fancy magics had preserved the temperature, and with every second that passed, another fresh waft of exquisite Zap Apple reached her nostrils. It was almost unbearable. Every muscle in Applejack’s body yearned to just stretch out, grab the pie, and tip the whole thing into her salivating mouth. After all, it was Zap Apple Pie - the best pie as far as she was concerned - and it would be such a minor transgression, considering the grand scheme of things. Surely a bite wouldn’t hurt? Just a tiny, tiny bite?
“No!” the farm pony knocked herself on the head. The orange mare had spent the past week drawing up her comprehensive plan, one that would deliver the blow needed to keep Rainbow Dash permanently on her hindquarters. Everything had been planned to a fault - the exact location of the meeting with Pinkie Pie, the precise terms of the ultimatum, the specific positioning of the assassin squad. The plan would work like clockwork, one thing leading into another - that is, if Applejack followed the steps fully. And the instructions were simple today: no food for her.
So, either the map, or the pie. Either life, or death.
Applejack let out a long sigh as she looked through the window. The rays of the Moon, fighting their way through layers of thick cloud, barely illuminated the night. Perhaps this was Luna’s intention: Applejack, time to make another choice. Don’t look to the divines for inspiration.
“Life or death. Choose,” the farm pony repeated slowly, savoring every word.
Death really wasn’t that bad, was it? Fluttershy had chosen death, and it wasn’t so bad. The pegasus was now free of obligations, free from the poisonous atmosphere, free from all this lying, backstabbing and betrayal. Everypony loved her. Oh, sure, everypony was also using her name to play politics, but none of this really hurt Fluttershy. Honored, but kept away from real power. Hardly disgraceful, for a pony with the right presence of mind.
And yet -
Rainbow Dash’s victorious army marched unopposed through the county city, heading straight for the citadel. Applejack stood at the head of the drawbridge, Stetson in hand, awaiting her pre-negotiated fate.
The cyan pegasus, clad in the classic Pegasopolis armor, finally appeared. Gone from her face were the expressions of past hatreds and bitterness. It was just like the old times: the pegasus was laughing, self-ridiculing, exchanging all kinds of jokes, reminiscing about the times back in the old place…
The official handover ceremony finally begins. Rainbow Dash lands gracefully in front of Applejack. “Applejack, I’m sorry that you have to do this,” she says, a genuine look of remorse on her face.
“Countess Applejack! Are you willing to surrender your title, your subordinate baronies, your land, and swear to Countess Rainbow Dash, to be her liege and serve her loyally for as long as time endures?” the refined Manehattan tones of the announcer echo around the courtyard.
For a moment, the orange pony flinches, as if she suddenly realized what she was doing. For a moment, a look of utter disbelief, and perhaps even anger, flashes across Rainbow Dash’s face. The farm pony remains standing, seemingly unable to say those all-important words.
But then, Countess Applejack gives in. “I am,” she declares in an emotionless voice. She closes her eyes, just fast enough to catch her tears of regret. And then, the forelegs of the orange pony buckle. Applejack - a descendant of the founder of Ponyville, a bearer of the Elements of Harmony, a savior of Princess Celestia herself - once-mighty Applejack lowers her head. The touch of cold soil on her jaw sends shivers down her spine.
“All hail to the conqueror, my liege-lady, Countess Rainbow Dash... ”
Another crack from the fire place tossed Applejack out from her nightmare. Hastily regaining her composure, the farm pony regarded the desk again. The map and the pie.
So much time over such a simple choice.
Applejack let out a dry laugh as she opened the window, and tipped the Zap Apple pie out into the cold night air.
*
“Hey, Applejack, what’s up?” Pinkie Pie said, trotting over to her orange friend, who was standing, alone, in a forest clearing.
Here goes. “Hey, Pinkie Pie!” the farm pony greeted the party pony, faking a big smile.
The party pony was unconvinced. “What’s the matter, Applejack? Something wrong?”
Darn it! “Uh, no, not really,” Come on, make up somethin’! “Er… if I recall, you mentioned somethin’ about border negotiations. ‘Fourth wall’ or some such.”
Pinkie Pie giggled. “Oh, did I? Oh, I must have totally forgot! All this ruling is making my head so small! I can barely remember anything at all!”
Applejack was in no mood to tolerate Pinkie Pie’s behavior for long. “Of course, Pinkie Pie. Now before we begin I’d just like to say a few things to you. Just as a friend. That’s all.”
Final furlong. Don’t foul this up.
“Sure!” laughed Pinkie Pie, oblivious to impending doom.
The farm pony took a deep breath. “Alright, Pinks. You and I are both Earth Ponies. We share a common bond to the ground. We were both born to care for the earth and to ensure that the good things grow. And, as rulers of our respective lands, we have to make sure that the lives of our subjects are good and -”
“Oh! Oh! Subjects?” interjected Pinkie Pie. “Aw, I loved subjects! Well, certain subjects anyway. Did I tell you that at school, I used to love geometry and Equestrian literature? How weird was that! I lived on a rock farm, so everypony thought I would like chemistry or geography but no, I liked all this stuff that was completely useless! And then -”
The farm pony’s furrows deepened. “Pinkie,” she said, betraying a menacing tone.
“Oh, sorry!” the pink mare grinned.
“Ahem. As I was sayin’, our duty is to ensure that the farmers live good lives.” Applejack looked straight into Pinkie Pie’s eyes, causing the latter to back off slightly. “But it’s a dangerous world out there. Ponies are always under attack from all sorts of things. Ponies need protection and safety: both from nature, and from each other -”
“Yep, I couldn’t agree more!” Pinkie suddenly interrupted. “You know, I had this dream last night -” the party pony sat on the ground and began to gesture, “- and I was being chased by an evil group of muffins! Oh, they were so evil they had wings and everything! And they had teeth made out of jelly babies! And I screamed and ran and ran, but because they had wings, they were so much faster than I was, and I couldn’t escape them, so I tried to run in the other direction, but -”
“Pinkie Pie,” Applejack quietly snarled. The orange pony’s fuse was very short indeed.
Pinkie stood back up. “Sorry again!” she apologized in her cutest voice.
Applejack sighed in frustration. Get this done, and you can have all the pies you want. “Pinkie Pie, the worst thing any pony can do is to send subjects, whose only crime was to be born in the wrong place, to their death in battle. So you know as much as I do, that I have always wanted peace amongst all ponyfolk. Just peace and quiet -”
Pinkie Pie suddenly put her hooves against her cheeks, “Oh, it’s so true! But now I want piece too! In fact, I want a piece of pie! Just a nice lovely Zap Apple Pie, the taste is so tangy and zany and yummy and - oh, it’s just so mmmmm! I really, really want apple pie now! Oh, please, Applejack, tell me- ”
“PINKIE PIE!” Applejack had finally lost her patience with the party pony.
The pink mare’s hair deflated in shock. She sank back to the ground. “Sorry, Applejack.”
Applejack stared at Pinkie Pie. All that earlier food deprivation had had the intended effect - the farm pony, starved into savagery, had finally revealed her true colors to her erstwhile friend. “If you want it this way, then fine: Pinkie Pie, I want your county. No ifs, ands, or buts. Hand it over.”
The farm pony placed a hoof on the brim of her Stetson. Pinkie Pie, should she refuse or flee, would soon realize that the forest was not as empty as it appeared. “Make your choice. Now,” she menaced.
For a moment, Pinkie Pie’s apologetic face displayed nothing but utter surprise and bewilderment, as if she had never expected one of her friends - a friend whom she thought she had reconciled with Rainbow Dash - to turn so abruptly on her. But that was only temporary. In a flash, Pinkie Pie’s hair bounced back up, the sparkle fast returning to her eyes.
The party pony jumped up and hugged Applejack, who had no time to evade. “Oh, Applejack, why didn’t you say so? I was getting kinda bored with all this ruling already; oh, you’ve made me so happy!”
W-what the- ?!
“But only if you say the magic word!” Pinkie teased.
“What, ‘please’?”
“That’s it! But what are you saying ‘please’ for?”
Applejack’s, still recovering from shock, closed her eyes in a sudden pang of guilt.
“P-Pinkie Pie, can you please give me your county?” the orange mare mumbled.
“Oh, of course! Applejack! You’re the best ruler among us! I’m sure you would do so much better than I did!”
No. No. This is wrong. I shouldn’t have…
The party pony finally broke her embrace, staring back at Applejack with large, trusting eyes. Applejack tried to avert her gaze. “Aww, don’t cry, Applejack, I’m sure you’ll do an amazing job! Come on, we gotta go back to the castle to sign the things!”
Pinkie Pie turned and began trotting out of the clearing.
Keeping her distance, Applejack put a hoof back on the brink of her Stetson. This was the plan. Wave the Stetson, let the squad do their job. Produce the forged Pinkie Pie will that leaves everything to Applejack. Legitimately take over the county - no loose ends, no potential leaks, no sleepless nights. The perfect plan.
It was simple. Yet the Stetson remained on Applejack’s head.
How ‘bout you, Pinkie? What’cha doin’?... Oh, letting Twilight secretly follow me all day, without me knowing…
Picklebarrel, kumquat, picklebarrel, kumquat, chimicherrychanga…
I had to, I just had to. I couldn’t leave my friends, I just couldn’t…
Applejack lowered her head. She took the hoof off her Stetson, using it to wipe her bleary eyes. Oh, by Celestia, what have I become?
“I had to do it," the farm pony comforted herself mirthlessly.
The voice of Pinkie Pie suddenly rang out through the clearing. “Hey, Applejack, you’re really slow today!”
“I’m coming, Pinkie, I’m coming!” Applejack broke into a gallop, taking great care to keep her Stetson on her head.
