//------------------------------// // Part 2 // Story: True Love's Kiss // by bats //------------------------------// Applejack rubbed her eyes again and was struck by another dizzy spell. She staggered and kept herself on all fours, then took a deep breath and tried to focus on the castle door in front of her. She rested her hoof on the handle and winced, weighing options in her head. She shook her head to clear it, drew herself up straight, and knocked. A moment later, it popped open a crack, and Spike poked out around the frame, digging his claws into the crystal. “Oh!” He let out a breath and relaxed. “It’s you. Hi, Applejack.” “Uh, hi?” “Sorry, Twilight just … I don’t know, I thought maybe a monster was coming or something.” He glanced back over his shoulder with a frown. “Did something happen?” Applejack sighed and looked down. “Yeah, somethin’ happened. I gotta talk to Twilight about it.” Spike opened the door further, then stopped and narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute, you’re not a rogue changeling pretending to be Applejack, are you?” Applejack gave him a flat look. “It’s a reasonable question! Tell me something only the real Applejack would know.” She frowned and cocked her head to the side. “Uh … one time you thought I saved your life, and ‘cause of the dragon code or somethin’ you tried to be my butler.” “That’s not something only Applejack would know, everypony knows about that.” He frowned. “And I wasn’t being your butler, I was being an assistant!” Applejack rubbed her forehead and sighed. “Spike, I got a headache.” “You certainly sound grumpy like a changeling.” She muttered under her breath and straightened up. She knew the song and dance, no matter what she said would probably be open to doubt, and the easiest thing to do would be to get Twilight to confirm who she was, but she suspected it would be better to talk things out with Twilight one on one before anything else happened. She racked her brain trying to remember something personal and quiet enough that it would dispel any doubt from Spike’s mind. The words came out of her mouth without her thinking about them. “Back when you were real young, like when you were first learnin’ to talk, one night there was a real bad thunderstorm. You got scared, and Twilight ended up readin’ you all of Burnferno, Warrior from Within ‘til you fell asleep.” Spike’s eyebrows shot up and dots of pink rose on his cheeks. The door swung open the rest of the way. “But … how did …” He knit his brow and crossed his arms over his chest. “Ugh, Twilight, not cool.” Applejack grimaced and stepped inside the castle, past Spike and weaving back towards Twilight’s room. “Don’t worry,” she murmured, “Nopony’s spreadin’ gossip about you. Twilight didn’t tell me about that happenin’ …” She sped up her walk, leaving Spike standing at the door in a fog of confusion. “You ain’t the only one,” she said to herself. At the end of the hall, she raised her hoof and hesitated again, just in front of the door. She could hear rustling and groans through the crystal, faint but constant. She chewed her lip, then steeled herself and knocked. “I’m okay, Spike,” Twilight said with creaky misery through the door. “Just give me some time to myself.” “Twilight?” The rustling stopped and silence emanated from the door, so stifling Applejack found herself holding her breath. The clack of hoofsteps on the stone floor filtered through, slow and steady, and the door opened. “… Hi,” Twilight said. “Uh, hi.” Applejack swallowed the lump in her throat and shuffled back and forth on her hooves. “Can, uh … we talk?” Twilight had bags under her bloodshot eyes, and her mane was kinked and messy, but she kept her gaze level and steady on Applejack. She stepped back from the door and let it swing open, then turned around and clacked back across the floor, climbed into bed, and disappeared under a pile of pillows. Applejack stood at the threshold blinking for a few moments, then entered the room and clicked the door shut behind her. She stood at the doorway, watching the mass of pillows rise and fall with Twilight’s breaths. She cleared her throat. “So, uh …” “Sorry,” Twilight said, muffled through her cocoon. “I shouldn’t have just … run. That wasn’t fair after … it … happened.” “That’s alright.” Applejack shuffled her hooves on the floor. “What, uh … was the ‘it’ that happened?” The steady rise and fall stopped, and Twilight’s head emerged from the pile, with a yellow paisley-patterned throw pillow still drooping on her head. “You mean … you don’t know?” “Should I know?” Applejack frowned in concern, then sat down on her haunches. “I mean … we were there in the park, and then it was like … somethin’ picked us up and, like, started fillin’ up my head with stuff.” She shook her head as another bout of dizziness pinched her between the eyes. “A whole lotta stuff. I can barely think straight.” Twilight gave her a guarded look and didn’t say anything for a few moments. She brushed the pillow off her head and looked away at the wall. “It was a, uh … rare involuntary thaumaturgical reaction.” Applejack stared at her. Twilight glanced sidelong, then back at the wall. She chewed her lip. “You really don’t know what it was?” “Not unless all that gobbledygook you said stands for somethin’ else.” Twilight flattened her ears and sighed. “The real name for it is an attunement. It’s the byproduct of something called individual magical field affinity …” She sunk down until she was up to her chin in pillows. “It has the nickname with school fillies of … True Love’s Kiss.” She closed her eyes in a grimace and sunk her muzzle into the pillows. Applejack crinkled her snout and raised an eyebrow. “True Love’s Kiss?” she stuck her tongue out. “Sounds like somethin’ out of a book’a fairy tales.” Twilight rose back up. “So you really don’t know?” “Twilight,” Applejack said with a sigh, “I ain’t got one dang clue about whatever the heck you’re talkin’ about. All I know is I’m tired, my head hurts, and it feels like somepony else’s been running around in my memories and shovin’ in a bunch of stuff ‘til it feels like my skull’s gonna crack open. Is that goofy name s’posed to be a joke, like when ya meet a body-builder pony named ‘Tiny’?” Twilight shifted back and forth on the bed, and pillows tumbled away around her until her top half was uncovered, and she trained the guarded look back on Applejack. “Maybe it’s just something unicorn fillies talk about. I’m not sure how common it is with other tribes. It certainly isn’t common for unicorns …” Applejack huffed, and opened her mouth, but Twilight raised a hoof. “Okay, okay, I’ll explain it to you.” Twilight straightened up and the rest of the pillows fell away from around her. “Okay, so, let’s start with individual magical field affinity.” She took a breath and patted her mane down flat, her voice strengthening and evening out into what Applejack thought of as Twilight’s lecture voice. “Hold on, I know that tone,” Applejack interrupted. She stood back up, grabbed a chair from Twilight’s desk, and dragged it over to the bed. She sat down and leaned against the backrest. “Okay, that’s better.” The corner of Twilight’s mouth curved up in a smile and she shook her head. “Do you want something to drink first?” Applejack chuckled and shook her head. “Anyway, individual magical field affinity is a rare phenomenon between ponies, where their magical fields …” Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized Applejack, then she waved her hooves in explanation. “Basically, a pony’s personal magic. It’s more or less the part of us that Lord Tirek stole.” “I’m followin’.” Twilight nodded. “Sometimes two ponies have magical fields that are very similar.” She shuffled her hooves on the bed. “Very, very similar. Almost identical.” “Alright,” Applejack said. “When ya say ‘sometimes,’ how often’re we talkin’?” Twilight sighed. “Honestly? Very, very rarely. There have been five confirmed cases of individual magical field affinity.” She chewed her lip. “In two thousand years.” Applejack blinked. “There are lot of stories about it happening more often, but it’s hard to know how many of those are true, and how many are, well … fairy tales.” She shrugged. “Magical fields vary a lot from pony to pony, and they change over the course of a pony’s life. The odds of it happening, and two ponies finding out about it are incredibly unlikely.” Applejack rubbed her chin and frowned. “And the way they’d find out about it is that attunement thing?” Twilight nodded. “Attunement is a spontaneous involuntary thaumaturgical reaction …” she smiled guiltily at Applejack’s flat look. “A random magical event that occurs when two ponies with magical field affinity share a moment of … emotional vulnerability.” Trying her best not to glare, Applejack took a steadying breath. “Ya mean they kiss?” She sighed and raised her hooves up helplessly. “Yes, a kiss would count, but it doesn’t have to be a kiss, just something like a kiss, when they both have their guards down together.” “In them five cases you were talking about, any of ‘em not a kiss?” “… No.” Applejack grinned. “But theoretically they could—this doesn’t matter.” She rubbed her forehead. Applejack struggled to keep from chuckling. Twilight cracked first and covered her face to muffle her giggles, and Applejack joined in. After they both reined themselves back in, Applejack said, “Sorry.” “No, no, that was good.” She patted her mane down again. “Anyway, attunement happens when the two ponies with affinity kiss—” “Or somethin’ like it,” Applejack offered with a crooked smile. “Don’t you start.” She grinned. “So they kiss, and because of the closeness and vulnerability, and because their magical fields are so similar, their fields sort of … merge.” She gestured for emphasis, bringing her hooves together. “They combine into one field for a few moments and … share some things, then separate again.” Applejack smile drifted away and she touched the side of her throbbing temple. “Sharin’ things. Like what sorta things?” Twilight hesitated. She pawed at her bedspread and looked to and from Applejack for a few moments, before shrinking down and into her neck. “Memories, for one.” “Memories.” Applejack raised her eyebrows. “These’re your memories in my head?” “Some of them.” She shifted her weight back and forth. “Can’t, uh … can’t you tell?” Applejack grimaced and leaned back in the chair. “I can’t make heads’r tails of any of it.” She squeezed her eyes shut and a muddy wash of images, sounds, and smells flooded her head. She gripped the edge of the chair to keep from tumbling over sideways. “Urgh. It’s all just a bunch of noise.” “Hmm.” Twilight frowned and tapped her chin. “Interesting …” “Can you make any sense of it?” Twilight blinked, then lowered her gaze away from Applejack, her cheeks turning red. “… Yes,” she said, her voice small. “I’m sorry.” Raising a brow, Applejack shrugged and shook her head. “How come I can’t?” “I’m … not sure,” Twilight said, sitting back up and regaining strength in her tone. “It might have to do with you being an earth pony. All of the confirmed attunements were between two unicorns. There hasn’t been one between a unicorn and a different tribe before. Or an alicorn and a different tribe, anyway.” Her wings twitched, then she rubbed her cheek and looked at Applejack in thought. “If I’m understanding right, you have new memories in your head, I think, but you aren’t able to sort them out all the way. Does that sound like what’s happening?” “I guess so.” Applejack closed her eyes and concentrated again, then winced. “It’s like … my head’s tryin’ to be a movie, and everything’s playin’ all at once.” “Is there anything specific you can remember?” Her grimace deepened as she thought. “Lotta things. I can sorta watch Shining Armor grow up all at once. And Spike.” She opened her eyes and frowned. “Spike asked me a question before I came in, and you readin’ him a book when he was little ‘n scared of the lightin’ popped into my head.” Twilight nodded vaguely, still rubbing her mouth. “I think it might just be a lack of familiarity. Memorizing and using spells with unicorn magic makes you compartmentalize your head, because it’s impossible to forget a spell. It just stays active inside your head at all times, kind of like you’re always casting it.” Applejack looked at her with an eyebrow raised and scratched her neck. “Sorry, I’m sure that didn’t help explain anything.” She huffed and shifted side to side with her brow knit. “What I mean is that for unicorns, it’s like several things are happening all at once inside their heads, but they can put everything in order and have it make sense. It’s a little overwhelming at first.” “Tell me about it.” Twilight smiled faintly. “You should start adapting to it soon, I think. You received a lot of my memories all at once, but those memories have an order to them, they happened one after another after all. When something comes clear and lets you focus on it, you’ll probably know when it happened and it won’t be part of the things that are playing all at once anymore, and once you’ve had a chance to rest and sleep, your mind should start putting everything else in order automatically. But I can help you work through it with some meditation exercises if you still have trouble.” Applejack grimaced as a wave of dizziness hit her. “Anything quick you could walk me through right now?” Twilight frowned for a moment, then sat up straight. “Close your eyes.” Applejack heard Twilight clear her throat. “Umm … try to think about when you were really young, back to some of your first memories. Something clear, I mean, something that you tend to think about from that time.” “Mmkay,” Applejack said. The clotted ball of new memories felt like it took up all of her mind’s eye, and it was a monumental effort of willpower just to pull away from it. She forced herself to focus, back to when she was three or four, to the time when she’d fallen off a tire swing and skinned her leg up really badly. The memory had stayed sharp with her for years. It was the first time she’d really felt something that hurt, and after Big Mac had given her a kiss on the forehead, cleaned up her cut, and stuck a band aid on it, it was the first time she’d really appreciated how kind he was. She’d known he was kind before but had taken it for granted as just a law of the universe. Until after it happened, she didn’t understand that he didn’t have to act that way, but chose to anyway because he was her big brother and he loved her. Twilight’s voice floated over the memory as she held it in her mind. “Got one?” She nodded. “Okay, now …” Twilight’s tone grew uncomfortable and hinted with embarrassment. “… Remember the time Shining Armor gave me a bath, and made himself a bubble beard?” The image shot to the forefront of Applejack’s mind, and the powerful wave of delight from the memory forced a smile on her face. She … Twilight was laughing to the point of crying as Shining smeared the bubbles on his face into a thick, old stallion’s beard, and dotted on some bushy, sudsy eyebrows. “Shiny!” Twilight shouted in her memory, “Stop it!” Applejack chuckled and cleared her throat. “Earliest thing you think of’s got your brother in it, too, I guess.” “Big brothers are like that.” The embarrassment left her voice. “Now, that memory should feel like it happened right around the same time as yours, right?” Applejack nodded vaguely. She took a mental step back and saw how it fit into a half-formed timeline in her head. “Feels like … maybe a li’l bit after mine.” She knit her brow. “But … only sorta like it happened to me. Like it’s a dream or somethin’. Or … side by side with the things that happened to me.” “Perfect,” Twilight said. “That’s a great way to think about it, side by side memories. Now, on that side, on my side, there are going to be things that happen one after another, the same way as on your side, right? Try thinking about what happened after that. Not in any real detail, just what the next important thing that happened after that would be.” Applejack frowned and another memory popped into place, looking through Twilight’s eyes at the big, thick book mom had plopped down in front of her. She remembered the awe and delight at how big and heavy it was, and a cascade of time passing as she read her way through it. Followed by a visit to the park with Shining and her parents, and then more and more as she watched Shining Armor grow up in front of her, and then Spike after her childhood home switched to Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. In the flash of a few moments, she felt her headache recede to a dull throb as the side by side timeline filled itself in. It wasn’t complete by any stretch, and she still had a big, angry wad of eye-searing memories pushing for her attention, but when she looked back at Twilight, she let out a breath of relief. “Better?” Twilight asked. “A lot. Ain’t done, but I can think again, I think.” Twilight smiled and nodded. “You’ll probably keep sorting things out without trying now. And getting some sleep should help, too. Focusing on specific events or objects, and making connections to other, related things will help trigger you to think about anything that’s left after that.” Applejack nodded and rubbed her temple. She shifted on her seat, staring off at the wall. “There’s … other stuff, too, stuff that can’t be memories.” She looked back at Twilight, feeling warmth rise in her face. “’Less, uh, you remember bein’ in a weddin’ dress and cryin’.” Twilight let out a slow breath and shook her head. “That’s the other thing that happens during an attunement.” She rubbed her shoulder. “They say that attunement gives you a look into the future. You share memories of your time together, even if that time hasn’t happened yet. Years of it. Decades.” Applejack watched her jaw flex as she stared out the window. Applejack knit her brow. “They say?” “School fillies, mostly.” She sighed and crossed her hooves over her stomach. “The unicorns who’ve studied attunement and field affinity don’t have a lot to say about it. There isn’t enough material to study.” She turned back to Applejack, drawing herself up straight again. “It’d be almost impossible to go looking for two ponies who have an affinity, even if you had a way to compare magical fields against each other, which nopony has been able to do well enough to be useful. You can’t make an attunement happen. It just … happens. About five times in every two thousand years.” Her voice lowered and softened. “… Six.” “… So that was really our weddin’?” “You had your mane in a Prench braid. It looked nice.” Twilight pawed at the blankets. “But no. It wasn’t our wedding.” Applejack cocked her head to the side. “But—” “It can’t be our wedding, because we’ve seen it. In the memory, do you remember remembering it now and expecting it? Was that look on your face when I lifted the veil just you acting, because you knew you were supposed to look that way?” As Twilight talked, the cacophony in her head quieted, and she could picture the wedding again, clear and strong, like it had happened the day before. She could smell autumn on the air, a musky dryness of fallen leaves and hickory. The murmur of the crowd hummed around her as the music drifted through the field, but she couldn’t pay it any mind if she’d tried, she only had eyes for Twilight, shining in the sunlight, glowing in white. And Twilight raised her veil. And Applejack’s breath had been taken away. Applejack let out a shaky sigh and shook her head. “No. I wasn’t fakin’.” “How is it supposed to happen that way, if you can see it now?” A creaking quality invaded Twilight’s voice, something weighty and tired, colored by bitterness. “Maybe the attunement shows a future, but it can’t be the future, because that future changes after we’ve seen it. This, this conversation we’re having right now, it isn’t in those memories. And I remember what happened after our first kiss.” Applejack straightened up in her chair and stared off into space. “… Yeah. I walked ya back home. You had your wing over my back.” “I said thank you for lunch.” “And I said thank you for the ice cream.” Applejack smiled for a moment, then shook her head. “And you said we’d see each other for dinner tomorrow …” “… And I kissed you again.” They sat in silence for a while, staring off in different directions. Twilight breathed in slowly and let out a long, belabored breath. “And none of that happened. I ran away instead.” Applejack studied Twilight for several moments. “You, uh … wanna talk about that?” Twilight shied back and grimaced, then lowered herself closer to the bed and started piling pillows back up around herself. Cracking a smile, Applejack shook her head. “Twi, you know I ain’t angry or nothin’, I didn’t know what any of this was ‘til you told me about it. Look at me.” Twilight raised her head, her expression a mix of worry and shame. “Is there anything in all them memories that makes ya think I’m gonna be cross?” “… No,” Twilight forced out. Her jaw flexed a few times and she screwed her eyes shut, slapping her hoof on a pillow. “I’m the one who’s angry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This is what those other fillies wanted, why did it happen to me!?” She smacked the bed again and turned away from Applejack, hunched down and huffing. “It isn’t fair …” Applejack felt confusion and concern argue over control, and she stood up from the chair. She slid onto the bed and hugged Twilight around the shoulders. Twilight relaxed into the embrace, resting her head in the hollow of Applejack’s neck. A wave of nostalgia and vertigo fell over Applejack. She had dozens, hundreds of memories holding Twilight in the exact same way, through moments of loss and sadness, and moments of comfort and relaxation. She’d memorized every curve of Twilight pressed into her, the way her hoof settled against Twilight’s chest, the way Twilight stroked her fetlock absentmindedly. And she’d never held Twilight like that before. Twilight nuzzled her neck. “… This isn’t about you, AJ. Everypo … Every unicorn filly grows up hearing about True Love’s Kiss and daydreaming about meeting their ‘prince’ and having a ‘happily ever after,’ just like it’s a fairy tale. Every filly except me.” Applejack nodded, feeling Twilight stroke her hoof, just on cue. “They all thought it sounded so romantic. I thought it sounded … perverse. Obscene. You and this other pony share your first real moment together, and suddenly you’ve taken all their memories, and they’ve taken yours, and neither of you get to say no. It’s like reading someone’s private diary and finding out they’ve read yours, all at once, and nopony has a choice.” Her voice turned to a whisper. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have looked at your memories if I could help it.” “I wouldn’t have looked at yours,” Applejack said. Twilight nodded in the embrace and squeezed Applejack’s hoof. She took a deep breath, her voice getting stronger and bitter again. “And then there’s the great, storybook future.” She snorted. “The future that’s a lie. A lie.” Applejack could hear Twilight’s teeth grinding. “It has to be a lie, because otherwise … how does …” She squeezed Applejack’s hoof again, her voice breaking. “How does anypony make a choice?” Applejack frowned. “What choice?” “Ponies have to make choices for themselves. They have to choose what they do with their lives, how they live them, and …” she turned her head and caught Applejack’s eye. “And who they love.” Applejack blinked as an image floated across her mind of her pushing a swing in the park. Twilight slipped forward, out of the embrace, and turned around on the bed until she sat face to face with Applejack. “And if in the flash of one little kiss, the future is already set, how can anypony choose what they do?” Her frown deepening, Applejack rubbed her neck and looked away. “I still ain’t got a clear look at all of those memories in my head, but what I can see …” She closed her eyes. The image Twilight had brought to mind jumped forward in the hazy mass of new memories, and Applejack remembered the summer sun baking her back as she pushed Twilight in the stupid swing for foals, both of them laughing together, her heart racing like she was having the most fun in all of Equestria. She remembered catching Twilight, holding her, whispering into her ear what she knew in her heart. Applejack opened her eyes again. “What I can see … if them things were happening … I wouldn’t make a different choice.” She glanced away from Twilight. “Maybe not with everythin’, but with all the important things.” Twilight sat quiet for a few minutes, gradually drawing in closer around herself, hugging her middle and looking down. “… Maybe you’re right. Maybe it is a future we saw. A future. One that was possible for us to have, with us choosing to make all the same choices, because those were the choices we wanted to pick. And if that’s the truth … then it was robbed from us.” Applejack cocked her head to the side. “Robbed from us?” “It’s already different.” Twilight let out a long breath and shrunk down, bowing her head. “The date didn’t end the same way. And even if we went outside right now, agreed on dinner tomorrow, and kissed each other good night, that future will never happen. It can’t. We’ve already seen it happen.” Twilight’s frown deepened and she gave Applejack a guarded, wary look. “Do you remember … the night when you propose to me?” Applejack sucked in a breath. She could smell the earthy warmth of the orchard. “Yes.” “It was a Sunday. We were having a picnic.” “I picked it ‘cause the lightnin’ bugs were gonna be out. Thought my head was gonna explode waitin’ for just the right moment to ask.” “I knew something was on your mind, but you still caught me by surprise. It took me a long time to stop crying enough to kiss you.” The hint of nostalgia faded from her expression. “Do you think it would happen the same way now?” Applejack shuffled her hooves on the bed. “The, uh … surprise is kinda ruined.” Twilight didn’t say anything. Applejack lifted her head and shrugged. “So … it ain’t real. Maybe it might’a been real. But it ain’t.” Twilight nodded. “That’s … kinda cruel a trick for magic to be playin’ on ponies, but … they’re awful nice memories.” She shrugged and smiled wanly. “S’pose I can get used to ‘em bein’ there. Maybe even think of ‘em as a present.” Knitting her brow, Twilight hunched forward. “A present? What do you mean?” “Not everypony’s got a chance to see a whole ‘nother life they could’a had. Heck, did have, in a way.” She winced and rubbed her forehead. “Still all jumbled up for me, but it sure feels like there’s a lot of ‘em there, and to be honest, I’m rememberin’ them clearer than a lotta my own memories from when I was a filly. Maybe that’s ‘cause they’re all so new for me. Either which way, it’s like I’m startin’ over again right now, and can live my life another time.” Twilight’s frown deepened, and she played with her bedspread in thought. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but … aren’t you … worried that it won’t turn out the same as the first time?” Her cheeks colored. “They are awfully nice memories.” “It won’t turn out the same, but I’m still the same pony I was this mornin’.” She frowned and glared. “Would’a hoped I’d feel a bit older’n wiser with couple more decades a’memories in my head, but I guess I’m too bullheaded ‘n stubborn for that.” Twilight giggled lightly. “I’m not sure it works that way.” She shrugged. “If it don’t, then maybe all’a that future stuff we saw is s’posed to fade away after a while, ‘n we go on with our lives without it. Those other ponies that got attuned have anythin’ to say about that?” “Not really.” She frowned in thought and rubbed her chin. “It’s happened so rarely, there hasn’t been any major research work done on the phenomenon. Most of the interviews are from right after it happened. One couple was checked up on a few years later, but all the research was about their individual magical fields.” “They were together, though.” “I suppose they were.” Applejack shrugged. “I’m sure anypony goin’ though this would’a noticed real quick that they were livin’ the same life over again, except without no surprises. If they didn’t go bonkers from it, it must not be all that bad movin’ on from the future vision stuff.” Sighing, Twilight rubbed her neck. “I don’t know. Maybe it is easy to move past.” Her tone lowered. “Maybe it’s inevitable.” Applejack studied Twilight’s expression. “What’s wrong?” “Maybe it’s inevitable,” she repeated, her face reddening, “that we end up together.” Applejack’s pulse rocketed up into her throat. She carefully controlled her breathing, keeping her tone of voice light and neutral. “…Do you not wanna end up together?” “… I don’t know.” Applejack shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “Th-that isn’t a no,” Twilight added, pawing at the blankets. “It’s complicated.” “Yeah,” Applejack said, not sure where to look. “This stuff’s always pretty dang complicated …” “I’ve liked you for a really long time. I’ve thought about it … y … you probably already know how long I’ve thought about it.” A flurry of memories passed through Applejack’s head, recounting a hundred little moments she’d had with Twilight over years, from a different angle than she remembered and tinged with a hint of desire and nerves. She cracked a smile despite herself. “I hope I ain’t that scary, Twi.” Twilight chuckled low. “You aren’t, I just always thought about it but didn’t act. Do you know why I asked you out today?” Applejack rubbed her cheek as she looked away. “You told me already, you got that letter from that filly.” “That’s what prompted me to do it, but do you know why in general? Did I ever tell you in the, uh, future?” Applejack frowned and closed her eyes. The mass of memories stayed murky and painful to imagine. She flinched and shook her head. “Nothin’s comin’ to mind.” “It was because of Queen Chrysalis.” Applejack knit her brow and looked back at Twilight in confusion. “Well, it was a lot of things, really, but she was what I’ve been focused on.” Twilight sighed and shifted back and forth, wrapping herself up again in a defensive huddle. “She’d won. She beat us, trapped us. If it wasn’t for Starlight, Trixie, or Discord we would’ve …” She sighed again. “They were there, and we did get out just like always, but this keeps happening to us, and no matter how many times we pull through, there’s always the chance that next time …” Swallowing the lump in her throat, Applejack nodded. “I know, Twi. Trust me.” Twilight let the silence hang over them for a moment, then continued, turning away and hugging herself tighter. “Since then, all I’ve been able to think about is if that next time came, and I never said anything to you. If I never even tried. If that was it, and things would end, and I wouldn’t have even tried to have anything as normal as a date in my life.” She looked sideways at Applejack. “It, uh … still took a while to work up the courage to say anything after that.” “Ain’t gonna begrudge you that.” The corner of her mouth twitched up. “Though if what I heard about it was right, Starlight dang near destroyed the world between now ‘n then messin’ with the princesses’ cutie marks.” Twilight huffed and covered her eyes. “Don’t remind me.” “And Spike might’a started a war between Thorax ‘n Ember …” Twilight giggled and shook her head. “You understand why I wanted something normal for once, right?” She straightened up again. “This was supposed to be a date. We’d go out, have a good time together, or a bad time together, or a whatever time together, then decide if we wanted to do it again, and just … go from there. Like normal ponies do. Instead …” She raised her hooves in the air and dropped them lifelessly into her lap. “Instead it’s just like everything else that happens to us.” “Crazy, full’a magic, and more complicated than it has any right to be?” “Right!?” Twilight cracked a smile, then started giggling. Applejack joined in. They trailed off and looked at each other, still smiling and with part of the tension broken. Twilight shrugged. “It isn’t that I don’t want to end up with you, I just wanted to find out if we did. Not be told by a magic kiss that it was fate.” Applejack nodded and scooted back on the bed, until she bumped up against a post and could lean against it. “I see what you’re sayin’. When I said yes, it wasn’t like I was plannin’ on buyin’ curtains that match your eyes. I ain’t even been holdin’ onto a bunch’a feelin’s the way you’ve been, neither. Seein’ how it goes and goin’ from there was all I was thinkin’ about, too.” Twilight smiled faintly, then stared off in the distance for a moment, her gaze unfocused. The smile turned to the ghost of a frown. “… Why did you say yes?” Applejack regarded Twilight for a moment, then snorted and shook her head. “I said yes, ‘cause I like you, and I reckoned goin’ on a date and seein’ how it goes and goin’ from there sounded like a good idea. But I’m guessin’ that’s not what you meant.” Her smile widened. “Tryin’ to remember when I first got feelin’s for you?” A look of guilt crossed Twilight’s expression. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be looking through your memories …” Applejack waved her off with a hoof. “I’m just jokin’, Twi, it ain’t a big deal.” She leaned against the bedpost and stretched out her back. “Truth is, I’ve always thought you were dang cute.” Twilight’s cheeks colored and she rolled her eyes. “No lyin’, Twi, the moment you stepped on the farm, checkin’ on the food for the Summer Sun Celebration, first thought through my head was, ‘Now ain’t that the cutest dang mare you ever did see?’” She grinned as Twilight’s blush deepened. “Kept that thought to myself, seein’ as you were doin’ your job and all. Did try and get on your good side with my cookin’.” Twilight laughed lightly. “It worked, I just ate too much.” “Never fails. But then Nightmare Moon came back, and I got to know you for real, and you moved here and everything just started happenin’.” She shrugged. “I ain’t sayin’ I stopped thinkin’ you were cute, or when I got to know ya I didn’t think I’d like datin’ you or nothin’. You’d just … moved into a place in my life where I wasn’t thinkin’ about that stuff, if that makes sense.” “It does, I think.” “’Course, when ya asked me this mornin’, and I said yes ‘cause I like you and I reckoned goin’ on a date would be somethin’ worth doin’, I found out I was awful happy about you askin’ me. And when I kissed you and this whole mess happened, there were a whole lotta nice feelin’s going through my head.” Pink returned to Twilight’s cheeks. “And if we’re usin’ them future memories, I was just about head over hooves for you after the fifth date.” Twilight shuffled uncomfortably. “I’m not sure we should count that. We know those things aren’t going to happen the way we remember them.” “Well, then, if it don’t count, then that kiss sure as heck wasn’t fate tellin’ us nothin’. If it ain’t real, then it’s no better’n daydreaming about what could happen.” Twilight’s mouth smoothed out to a thin line as she stared at the wall, before turning to look at Applejack. “…I guess it isn’t.” She kneaded her bed and lowered her head. “ I guess they could be something like … a vision of a different life. It just feels so … cruel. That’s the word you used, and it’s the right one. It’s cruel.” Applejack watched Twilight pull and smooth the blanket for a moment, then slid across the bed, turning sideways until she jutted her shoulder up against Twilight’s. “Y’know … it’s only cruel if’n the lives we have afterwards ain’t as good as the memories. And it ain’t up to anypony else what sorta lives we have. Just us.” Twilight pressed into Applejack’s shoulder until they rested their heads against each other. “Unless the next thing that rises up out of the shadows to try and destroy Equestria actually manages it. We can’t control that.” Applejack frowned, then shrugged against Twilight. “Nah, guess we can’t, but that don’t happen far as I remember. I can’t picture somethin’ even tryin’.” She chuckled. “Guess that’s how ya know for sure them memories are full’a bull.” Twilight snorted, then giggled against her, pressing in closer. “It’s very upsetting how right you are.” As Twilight leaned in, she felt a hoof encircle hers, and a wing spread over her back. The little chuckles died away and Twilight’s head turned towards her. She followed the gaze and their muzzles touched. Their lips met again. A lack of fireworks wasn’t the only thing different between their first two kisses. The first had been prim and uncertain, a probe for confirmation on shaky ground. The second came with a wealth of familiarity and comfort, an entire life’s worth bundled together, sure-footed, confident, and totally natural. They broke apart with their foreheads pressed together. Applejack steadied her breathing as she rested against Twilight, her eyes closed and heart pounding. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and whispered. “Whatever you wanna do, whatever you want this to be, I’ll trust it, Twilight. We made some pretty good choices in that pretend other life. I bet we’ll make some good ones another time around, too.” Twilight’s breath hitched. She slipped to the side and pressed into Applejack’s neck, burying her face. Applejack hugged her as she started crying, in silence but with heaving shudders. She wrapped her hooves around Applejack and squeezed tight. Applejack nuzzled the top of her mane and rubbed her back in circles. “It’s not fair,” Twilight mumbled into her neck. “Why did this have to happen? Why couldn’t I have just not known, gone out with you a few more times, and end up falling in love with you in the end? Why couldn’t I have that?” She pulled back and searched Applejack’s face, her eyes red and cheeks matted. “Why did it take that away from us?” Applejack’s heart thundered and she pinned her ears flat to her head. She pressed their foreheads together again and closed her eyes. “…Would’a been nice if I could’a told you on that swing, huh?” She felt Twilight run a hoof through her mane. “You’re feelin’ it, too, I guess.” Twilight nodded against her. “I don’t know how I couldn’t. I feel like I’ve spent fifty years of my life feeling that way. It’s nice to say that it’s all just a daydream, but daydreams can’t do this.” She let out a shivering sigh and kissed Applejack’s forehead. “It’s all just … too much. I want to trust our choices, too, I want to just … go from here, the same as we would before, but part of me misses our bed in our farmhouse that doesn’t exist.” Applejack gave a half smile. “The barn does.” Grinning for a moment, Twilight sighed again. “This isn’t even real. I’ve ‘felt’ this way over a lifetime that never happened, and now the things that happened that made me feel it won’t happen again, because I already feel it. Is this just part of the attunement? How can we really choose what we want if it’s done this to us?” Applejack straightened up gradually as Twilight talked, frowning in thought. She found herself going back again and again to her memories, to the squirming pile of unfocused and unsorted life that her brain hadn’t made sense of yet. She shook her head. “I dunno that it was anythin’ in that make-believe life made me feel like this, Twilight.” Twilight wiped her face off and gave Applejack a questioning look. “Things a pony does ain’t what makes ya fall in love with ‘em, I don’t think. It’s who they are on the inside, and how those parts match up to the parts inside’a you. I didn’t fall for you ‘cause you gigglin’ like a filly on a swing pushed me over the edge’a somethin’. It was ‘cause I saw enough of you on the inside to know we fit together.” Applejack studied Twilight’s face. In it Applejack saw the same worry for what the future held as when she sat down on the first day of class in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. The same bittersweet sadness and loss she felt when she realized her brother was getting married, but she didn’t even know to whom. The same implicit trust that settled over her as Applejack held her at the edge of the cliff and told her it was okay to let go. “…This time I got to know them parts without you needin’ to show me.” Twilight’s lips twitched up haltingly, then she looked away. “… I don’t mind that you have my memories, but I’m really sorry I took yours without your permission.” “I would’a told ‘em all to you anyway.” “I’m still sorry.” She caught Twilight’s chin and brought their gazes together again. “Why’s it okay for you to not mind if I got yours, but I ain’t allowed to not mind that you got mine?” Twilight huffed through her snout and shook her head, slipping away from Applejack’s hoof. “It just feels so wrong, I feel like a voyeur peeking in on your life. I can think back and watch your brother grow up, or remember private conversations that I wasn’t there for and have no right to hear. It makes me feel like a creep intruding in on things like your mother introducing you to Apple Bloom for the first time, or—” “T-twilight,” Applejack blurted out. She felt her face grow slack and she grabbed Twilight’s shoulder. “Y-you remember that?” “Well … yes.” Applejack’s vision blurred through the moisture in her eyes and she felt all the air get sucked out of her lungs. “Y…you can see her? My mom?” she whispered. “Yes. Can … do you not remember?” Twilight frowned and touched the hoof on her shoulder. “I …” Applejack swallowed the lump in her throat and forced in a breath of air. “It’s all so fuzzy now …” she looked away. “I know what she looks like from all the photos Granny’s still got of her. When I think back, it’s like I got one’a them pictures tacked on over a blur. I ain’t so sure what her voice sounds like anymore …” Twilight stared at her in silence for a few moments. Her voice came out confused. “I don’t understand. I don’t know how I can remember something that you don’t remember.” “The memory’s still there,” Applejack mumbled. “But it’s been an awful long time, and it’s still … it’s all wrapped up with losin’ her and dad, and that’s still nice ‘n raw.” She swallowed again and closed her eyes. “I remember Apple Bloom layin’ in her hooves, smilin’ and wavin’ a li’l hoof out of the blankets at me. I remember knowin’ the second I laid my eyes on her that I loved her more’n anything and I’d spend the rest of my life workin’ at bein’ the best big sister I could.” Twilight smiled faintly, then looked away. “What’d she say to me?” “Huh?” “My mom. She told me somethin’. I … I don’t remember what she said, just the feelin’ behind the words. Do you know?” She turned to face Twilight and grabbed her other shoulder. “Do you know what she said?” Twilight hesitated, shifting back and forth in Applejack’s grasp, then shut her eyes. “She said … ‘AJ, don’t be scared, come meet your little sister … I know you two are going to get along like pigs and mud … but right now just remember she’s awful tiny, and awful new to this big world, and she’s going to need lots of patience and lots of love … There’s that wonderful smile of yours, you like her already, don’t you? Just remember …” Twilight’s cheeks turned pink, and she stumbled, saying, “L-little Apple D-Dumpling.” Twilight coughed and cleared her throat. Applejack’s cheeks felt warm and she chuckled. “Forgot she used to call me that,” she mumbled. Twilight cracked an eye and smiled at Applejack, then took another breath. “Just remember, Little Apple Dumpling, babies can be loud and get awful cross with you for no reason, and that might make you feel a little sore sometimes. When that happens, just remember that she’s family … and …” Twilight’s brow knit. “… And you’ll always love family with all of your heart …” she opened her eyes and locked her gaze with Applejack, whispering the rest of the sentence, “… no matter how much they might hurt you.” Applejack vision blurred again. She blinked and felt moisture run down her cheeks, burning hot. “… I get who she was really talkin’ about now …” she whispered. “I wouldn’t’a … without you … oh, Twi …” she threw her hooves around Twilight and pulled her in, crushing their chests together and squeezing her eyes shut. She buried her face in Twilight’s mane and held tight. “Don’t … don’t think havin’ my memories is somethin’ wrong no more, Twilight. Please don’t. It’s a present. The best present I’ve ever gotten.” Twilight hugged her back. After a while, she whispered, “I’m glad I could give it to you.” Eventually, reluctantly, Applejack pulled back. She wiped her cheeks with a hoof and sniffed. “Sorry.” “Don’t be sorry. Really.” Twilight smiled and nuzzled her cheek. “If … whenever you want me to do that, if the memories are still fresh …” Applejack nuzzled back, smelling Twilight’s mane as she took a steadying breath. “Same offer for you, Twi.” She straightened up. “Least once everythin’s sorted out all the way in my head. It’s clearin’ up here and there, but it’s still pretty gunked up.” Twilight nodded. “That meditation offer’s still open if you need it.” “I’ll take ya up on that if I’m still outta sorts after sleepin’ on it. It is gettin’ better …” She closed her eyes. The confused mess still lurked behind her eyelids, but pieces of it had fallen away and smoothed themselves out in the rest of her mind. Bright spots littered the tapestry of her past, letting her watch Shining Armor grow up in front of her alongside Big Mac, and then Spike with Apple Bloom. A new timeline trailed off in the other direction, still patchwork and empty, but filling in and growing stronger and more vibrant with each passing minute, letting her watch Twilight grow alongside her, becoming more constant, more welcome, more cherished. She frowned when she got to the end of the pattern, then prodded at the mass of memories with her thoughts. “… I don’t remember how the vision ends. Last thing there’s just a normal sorta day. Do you remember?” Twilight’s eyes flicked off and on Applejack for a moment. “… One day about fifty years from now, we spend the afternoon making apple butter.” She shuffled her hooves on the bed. “Neither one of us could move that quickly anymore, and it took a lot longer than it normally took us. After we were done, you laughed and said that you spent all that time making apple butter, only to end up too tired to eat it.” Applejack grinned. “I remember that.” “We went to bed that night, and the next day …” Twilight lowered her head. “You didn’t wake up.” A silence fell over the room for a few moments. “… Of ways to go, nopony could ask for something more peaceful.” Applejack sat in place, frowning, feeling more memories fall into place in her head in bits and pieces. “… If’n all that future didn’t happen, fades away, and all we got left is you givin’ me back a piece of my mom, I’ll treasure it for the rest of my life. And maybe it’s s’posed to fade, and that’s why the other ponies who’ve gone through this didn’t go nuts ‘n tear each other apart ‘cause it can’t go the same way twice. I dunno. Don’t seem like nopony knows how this stuff works.” With a nod, Twilight cocked her head to the side and studied Applejack back. Applejack turned from Twilight’s gaze and looked at the wall. “Or maybe … maybe we’re thinkin’ of this wrong, and nothin’ got stolen from us at all. Maybe we got our first time really gettin’ to know each other before in that other life, and it’s somethin’ we’re always gonna have and always gonna remember. And maybe this time isn’t s’posed to be about us tryin’ it over, makin’ new decisions and tryin’ to live up to a life that ain’t real.” She returned her eyes to Twilight and studied her face. “… Maybe instead it’s a chance for us to have another fifty years together.” Twilight’s eyes widened, and her lip trembled. She leaned closer and touched Applejack’s cheek. “… Do you really think …?” she whispered. Applejack touched her hoof and smiled, then shrugged. “I ain’t sure what to think. Them memories are good, and, uh …” She frowned and shifted her weight from one hoof to another. “They’re awful good, they ain’t got no monsters or big fights, nopony tries to destroy the world, and nothin’ tries to kill us. Maybe it’s not real, and it’s all just a fairy tale’s worth’a magic that’s just tryin’ to give us a push. I dunno. Do you?” Twilight searched Applejack’s face, then bit her lip and shook her head. Applejack touched Twilight’s cheek, then kissed her forehead. “Yeah, ain’t so sure that anypony could tell us how any’a this stuff works, and we gotta just figure it out together. We’ll know a bit more tomorrow, after spendin’ more time not doin’ what we did in them memories. Right now, I feel like I must’a been home for a while, gettin’ the last of my chores squared away after our first date or somethin’, but I hardly remember any’a that.” “… Yeah …” Twilight closed her eyes. “I think I spent this time reading through all those letters again, probably trying to convince myself not to write back to that filly and tell her she had to go for it yet, but …” She frowned. “It’s a little foggy.” “And I know that tomorrow mornin’ I got up and got my work done extra quick ‘cause I was in a good mood, but it ain’t gonna happen that way no more.” She looked down and smiled. “I’ll be runnin’ a little late with my chores ‘cause I gotta go spend some time with Grand Pear ‘fore it gets too late.” Twilight smiled, and it wasn’t tinged with tiredness nor worry, it had no hint of bittersweetness, just a warm, genuine smile of happiness. “I’m glad.” “Me, too.” Applejack looked down and pawed the blanket. “I meant it. Gettin’ that bit’a mom again’s worth the whole dang headache.” Twilight sighed and leaned in, nuzzling Applejack’s cheek. “I’m sorry for putting you through all of this today.” Chuckling, Applejack nuzzled back. “Hey, can’t go blamin’ you for all the fireworks.” “I still could have handled it more … gracefully. You didn’t deserve being left in the park like that. I was just overwhelmed.” She sat up straight and shook her head. “I’m still overwhelmed.” “Yeah, that’s goin’ around.” Applejack rubbed her face. “I ain’t cross about you runnin’, I might’a run away and hid under the bed, too, if I could make heads or tails of it. Feel like I’m still tryin’ to make heads or tails of it.” She shook her head to clear it. “But I think thing’s’ll start gettin’ easier to figure out soon. And we’ll have plenty’a time to go from there.” She gave Twilight a half smile. “After all, this was only the first date.” Twilight snorted, then giggled against her hoof. “You’re right. I don’t know how I forgot.” She grinned and chuckled. “Still on for that second date tomorrow, right?” “Of course.” A comfortable silence fell over them for a moment, then Applejack rubbed her shoulder. “So, uh …” Twilight caught her gaze and held it for several moments. She pushed the last few remnants of the pillow fort off the bed with a kick. “… You can stay if you’d like. With me.” “… I’d like to. But maybe I oughtta not.” She scooted to the side of the bed and stepped down. “Maybe we oughtta sleep on things ‘n give our heads a chance to take all this in ‘fore we make up our minds on somethin’ so big.” Twilight shuffled to the bed’s edge and held Applejack’s gaze. “That might be for the best. Although …” She looked down and held out a hoof. Applejack took it. “I’ve … already made up my mind. Maybe not with everything, but with the important thing.” Applejack squeezed Twilight’s hoof. “Me, too. See you tomorrow?” “Definitely.” She smiled. “And I’m still paying.”