The morning sun above was weak, white and watery as it filtered through the thick clouds of lingering winter mist. The breeze was cool and damp, throwing motes of fog and frost about in tiny whirlwinds as it whistled through the empty rockfields. Little crests and outcrops of light grey poked through the dull grit, sparkling as the pale light shone on scatterings of exposed crystals and gemstones.
A gentle metallic tolling echoed across the open field, like a muted clock lazily counting the seconds and minutes with the occasional skip or chime. The faintest of sighs carried in the quiet air as a slate-grey mare worked, delivering precise strikes to the small rock in front of her with the rusty pick in her jaws. Beads of sweat lined her fur as she toiled, her mane trailing like a stony banner as she reared up and brought her tool down in a neat rhythm, slowly but surely exposing a sizable gemstone from the dim rock. Crystalline dust and splintered scree patched her coat as the well-trained muscles in her shoulders and hips tensed and rippled on each swing.
With one last hit, the rock shattered into a pile of gravel, leaving behind a large, rough stone the size of her hoof. She dropped her pick and stooped to pick up her treasure, biting down on the tiniest corner. There was a muffled crunching as she worked her jaw, then her eyes flashed wide and a pleased sigh escaped her lips in a plume of vapour.
“Marble!” A loud shout split the lonely tranquillity and jerked her attention away from her find. A tiny murky figure, little more than a smudge on the misty horizon, was gesturing wildly and irately for her to come. She smiled inwardly as she ignored it and turned her pick on another rock, tossing the previous stone into one of her saddle-packs. The first few quiet pings rang out as she checked for any structural weaknesses.
“Marrrble! Hurry up!” The tone grew sharper and louder as the little annoyed speck of dull colour resolved into a similar mare stomping towards her. Her eyes were narrowed and angry; her curt, spiked mane carried the faintest hint of green, and her coat was a cold blue-grey. “Hey, Marble! You deaf or something? Come on! Pinkie’s gonna be here any minute!”
It was awfully rude of her to ignore the summon, Marble mused as she struck away, but, a warmer and more selfish part of her heart chimed in, it also let her draw her feisty sister out into the one place she felt confident enough to speak. Her solitary job was so isolated out on the farthest fields she could say whatever she wanted, with no-one but the rocks and crows to hear her. They would never share the secrets she whispered, or judge her for her foolish thoughts.
“Hey! I’m talking to you!” A grey hoof grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her around a little too roughly.
“Um, I’m sorry, Limestone. I, um, didn’t hear you.” She answered timidly, trying to look anywhere but toward her sister’s beautiful, angry eyes.
Limestone grunted and let out a loud, obnoxious sigh, “Yeah, whatever. Just finish up and get in soon- Ma wants us all in to welcome her back.” She marched off, her stomping dampened slightly by the damp earth and grit. “Stupid ‘Hearth’s-Warming-Spirit’ ponyfeathers taking up all my time.” She muttered, her complaints quickly vanishing into the fog.
Marble stared after her, following the dull shadow as it grey fainter and smaller. A familiar heat was working its way into her chest, and up into her cheeks. She felt almost breathless, though she knew full well she hadn’t done anything to warrant such a feeling. Her face was torn between a small smile and a bemused frown.
Did she like Limestone? Of course; she was family. She had a rather abrasive personality, and at times could be downright mean, but she was just doing what she thought was best for the family- trade, and profits had increased since she took over the rock farm’s dealings, after all. But there was something else too, and Marble blanched at the slightest hint of a thought of it. Something terrible.
Family love was expected, but to what degree? Every sibling ever hugged and fought, at least, that was what her rare moments off the farm and Pinkie’s tales had told her. How many siblings hugged, fought, and kissed? Not that she did- though she felt she wanted to, and therein lay her problem: sisters and brothers could not love each other romantically. Old Granny Pie hadn’t been sure of much, but that, along with her Zebra prejudices, was one of the few things she had been adamant on. Of course, there were tales of incestuous relations in every level of society, from the lowliest farmers to the Royal Guard, to the princesses themselves, but they were just that: Tales. Nothing like that happened, because it would be wrong.
She kicked out at the sudden feeling of injustice that stole away her happy warmth. Her hoof met a chunk of granite, and with a sharp nip of pain, the rock shattered. Her reinforced shoe had a new nick in it too.
Once upon a time, nobles and commoners had been put in prison for loving each other; mares and stallions who loved their own sort had been bullied and shunned- they were perfectly acceptable now, in fact, a large percentage of Equestria’s population were in same-sex relationships, married or no, and the class division was non-existent in all but the most stagnant of Canterlot nobility.
Why couldn’t Celestia take the next obvious step and make it just as okay to feel for a sibling?
The mist rolled in thickly on a chilling breeze which snapped her from her internal rant. She sighed and dusted through the remnants of the rock she had smashed, collecting a small ruby from the shards and slipping it into her bag before turning in the direction of home. With one last reluctant look around, she left her little lonely sanctuary and trotted off.
At least Pinkie was coming home. She could distract anyone from anything with her silliness and stories.
A few minutes of walking through the thickening fog later, Marble came into view of the old, rickety cottage she and her family called home. Though it was little more than a dark shape in the mist, the crooked chimneys and jagged roof stood out like fireflies at midnight. She could already see the faintest of yellow glows from the windows as she drew nearer; a little shudder ran down her spine and she perked up a bit at the lovely scent of wood smoke from the fireplace- maybe, she thought, her romantic crisis could wait until she had a mug of hot cocoa and a pillow by the fire.
With a hopeful hum in her chest, she opened the door and was almost stunned by the wonderful feeling of heat. She had forgotten what it felt like to not be cold- Pinkie must already have arrived then, there was no way Mother would have used the sparse few logs they had left for heating for anyone but her or royalty. Though given Pinkie’s latest few tales, having a princess over for Hearth’s Warming didn’t seem that unlikely anymore.
“There you are, Marble. Took your time.” Limestone glowered at her. To be fair, she had been walking rather slowly.
“I’m sorry, it, um, shan’t happen again?” She answered meekly.
Limestone seemed satisfied with her apology and strutted off. She was always such a busy, hard-working pony. It was just another thing to admire about her. She had a whole farm to manage, and she did so perfectly, it was just a shame it left with little-to-no time to relax, and for Marble to get a little closer to her. It was just too bad- their livelihood was more important than a silly crush which was probably pointless anyway.
Her melancholy must have shown on her face, because a second later a pink hoof had grabbed her by the chin and hoisted her face-to-face with a pair of wide, gleaming cyan eyes. “Oh! H-hello, Pinkie Pie.”
Pinkie regarded her suspiciously as she tried to fake a smile. She would stop at nothing to make sure everyone was happy, but there were some things she wasn’t to know. Crushing on a sibling was one of those things.
“Heya, Marbs! You can stop wandering round like a mopey-Mc-Mopeyface now, your big sister Pinkie is here to make everything better!” Her smile and energy was infectious, and before she knew it, Marble’s façade had turned into genuine grin.
A sudden flicker of darkness flashed across her sister’s eyes for a split-second and a frown appeared on her ever-smiling lips. “There’s something wrong…”
Marble was sure she could feel Pinkie’s eyes boring into her mind and rattling through her secrets. She was sure to figure something out sooner or later- she had to get away before she confessed just to get out from under that wilting look.
“Pinkie.” Came a monotone voice from upstairs. Maud had taken mercy on her, it seemed. “Come and help me lay the beds, please.”
“Okie-dokie-lokie!” Every trace of that piercing horror vanished into oblivion as the pink pony hopped up, her familiar smile back in place, and literally bounced up the stairs and out of view.
She let out a relieved sigh and her rump hit the floor. Was she really related to such a strange, joyful, and terrifying pony?
“Marble, dear, these potatoes will not peel themselves!” Her mother’s shrill voice called from the kitchen. There went any hope of a rest in front of the fire. She shook a bit of moisture from her coat and blew the few strands of damp mane from her face then trotted in with a resigned sigh.
After all, Hearth’s Warming preparations waited for nopony.
-
That evening, as the weak daylight gave way to the velvety purples of dusk, and the dark clouds began to glow a ghostly silver with the moon’s light, Marble found herself alone in the fields once more.
She hadn’t meant to come all the way out to the furthest field again, but her hooves had taken her wherever they had wanted, and she had given in, exhausted from the non-stop rush of cooking, washing, cleaning and the other two-dozen jobs that only seemed to surface when she needed a rest. At least things had quietened down a little now.
Around her neck, a small glass bottle of purple-red liquid bounced against her chest on each step across the unsteady ground. As she wandered, she flicked the stopper with her teeth and took a delicate sip. It was warm, beautifully warm, and it warded off the creeping winter chills perfectly. A lovely heat blossomed in her belly and worked its way through her cold limbs until she felt almost as if she had never left the steamy kitchen. Tiny bubbles fizzled out on her tongue as she licked the neck of the bottle clean and resealed it; the wonderful spices tingled on her lips and she began to hum happily, a skip working its way into her step. She had no idea what went into making Pinkie's 'Winterspice Warm-Up', only that it involved a lot of chocolate powder and sugar, and more herbs than she could name.
A chilly breeze stirred, ruffling her mane. She sought shelter in the lee of a particularly large pillar of crooked rocks and settled down on a patch of coarse, scrubby grass poking through the gravel-strewn earth. She nipped at a few thin leaves, but then spat them out with a grimace as the dusty taste filled her mouth, deciding instead to chew on a small, smooth pebble. Apparently ponies elsewhere didn't often eat stones, according to Pinkie and Maud, but it couldn't just be a Pie-Family thing, could it? After all, why would ponies need rock farms if they didn't- Gemstones only made up around half of their business; A lot of builder and gardener ponies bought rocks of all sorts by the bagful.
"Mmh, it's cold..." She muttered, wincing at how small and pathetic her voice sounded against the vast dark skies. Her hooves had snaked around her own body, hugging her barrel tightly as she supped at her drink. Her fur was cool and soft, and slightly gritty from her day's work. She could do with a nice warm bath, maybe with some of those lovely bubbly soaps that Pinkie always used. It was a shame she'd probably missed the chance to have a warm bath today- she'd been run off of her hooves without a spare second to herself when her sisters had been cleaning up. Maybe she could pop in with Pinkie like they always used to, but that would probably turn into some sort of strange interrogation again.
She shivered despite the pleasurable warmth inside her. A pale frost was already descending on the fields, and it had only just turned to night. She should really have gone inside, or not have come out in the first place, but inside was so frantic and rushed compared with the leisurely, pondering pace of the rock fields. And inside there were ponies she would rather not face: Pinkie was determined to figure out her deepest, darkest secrets; Maud would do the same, just with less bouncing and smiles, and a lot more silent staring until she broke and spilled everything; and Limestone was busy being both the best and worst pony in Equestria at once.
Limestone was so pretty and confident, feisty and strong, but every second she spent being perfect near Marble was like some sort of perverse torture, tempting her so very much to just take up those beautiful hooves and wrap them around her neck to hold her close whilst kissing her sweet lips and-
She was panting and her cheeks were burning red. The thumping of her racing heart was filling her ears, and a great yawning pit was opening in her stomach. She felt so hot and high, but a single black thought was pouring the bitterest of arctic snows onto her fires:
What sort of disgusting pony got so worked up about loving their own dear sister?
A horrible, stark sobriety pressed down on her, everything that felt good evaporating in an instant.
Supposedly, when a pony was in love, they knew it, that was one thing she had learned from the few story books scattered around the house. Maybe it would be a lightness of breath when they spoke, or a fluttering heart when they walked by. The infatuated also often dream passionately of the object of their desires. Limestone elicited all of these signs in her, though the dreams were new and strange- she was torn between welcoming them as a few heavenly moments with the pony she couldn't possibly have, and the reminder that there was something so wrong with her that even Celestia's wise laws forbade her. There was one comforting thought that slipped through the scary, confusing mess of feelings and thoughts though: It was more than just some silly crush. What she felt was real and serious, and though the world may have stood against her, her thoughts and feelings were her own, and Limestone Pie was the beautiful pony she wished to love and embrace.
There was an old saying in Equestria, 'Love always finds its way.' Maybe it was true, maybe not. Marble would believe, no matter what. Her will and heart stood against the laws of the land, but perhaps, on the slimmest of hopes, her story could end happily.
A cloud cleared as she hardened her resolve, throwing white moonlight across her fur. Through that blurry hole in the foggy sky, the stars twinkled and shone. Maybe they were listening, just as the rocks did? A crow called as it lazily glided across the moon like a shifting shadow. It may as well have been the world's affirmation.
She tossed back the last scraps of the bottle's contents and balked as the sharp tang of sugary grit hit her throat. The smoothly-blended flavours had all gone, leaving only sickly sweetness and a faint alcoholic twang. How was Pinkie to know she'd take so long to drink it anyway? It wasn't her fault it had settled out a little more than was pleasant.
Soon, she had decided, soon she would throw herself to the mercy of her loved ones. Marble Pie would make her feelings known to her sweet, oblivious love. When was a matter for another time, maybe when things weren't so hectic? Perhaps after Hearth's Warming- or maybe a little after, when Pinkie and Maud had left so there were fewer ponies about. Surely Heart's and Hooves wasn't all too long away, but they were awfully busy around then with all of the gemstone orders, and poor Limestone would be run ragged. She wouldn't want to stress her out any further. The first day of spring was-
She let out a long, tired yawn. Maybe those panicked thoughts of timings could wait a little, it was getting awfully late, after all. She could do with just a few minutes' rest before she could think properly of such serious things. It would all seem much clearer when her eyes stopped wanting to close.
She slumped down in her makeshift perch of rough grass. As long as she just had a short nap, she could get inside before she got cold. Just a couple of minutes so her body would listen to her again.
Just a minute or two...