//------------------------------// // Assumptions // Story: Homecoming // by Antiquarian //------------------------------// I knew it, I knew it, I bucking well knew it! Just when everything seems to be going fine, some catastrophe comes along and bucks your life right in the teeth! ‘Oh, Rarity, Applejack is just peachy, no need to worry, Rarity. Don’t get so worked up, Rarity. Don’t freak out, Rarity.’ Well, buck you all, because she’s not fine, I’m not overreacting, and ponies should listen to me when I tell them something’s wrong! Why don’t these blasted guards move any faster? Honestly, I know I’m not the athletic type, but I could have run to the Acreage and back by now! At the pace we’re moving, I feel like Rainbow Dash could fly to Canterlot to summon Celestia and still get there before Shoddy and I! As it is, she’s only got her husband to collect, so she’s surely there by now! Oh, yes. Rainbow left us to fetch Thunderlane. Did I mention that? She gets to fly off at full speed while Shoddy and I mosey through the town like we’re on the way to a flipping cotillion. Sorry, I’m just… I’m having some feelings about this. Between Applejack’s mysterious hospital visit, her family’s evasive behavior, and now this – King’s Own Guards from Zebrica showing up to ‘invite’ Applejack’s intimates to the Acreage? I’m so worried that I haven’t even taken the time to examine the King’s Own uniforms, with their crimson color, ornate gold brocade, and intricate multi-colored patterns woven in swirling designs whose meaning I can only guess at but which complement the zebras’ black-and-white in a way that most ponies couldn’t manage— Okay, so maybe I examined them a little… but that in no way diminishes my fears for Applejack! “Miss Rarity, are you okay?” asks Shoddy as we trot down the road to the Acres. “Am I ok—” With a self-control born of many years as an older sister, I choke down my rather, ahem, snippy reply. “No, Shoddy. I am not okay. I am worried for Applejack.” “Why?” I actually trip there, almost face-planting into the dirt before I recover. “Why?” I repeat, incredulous at the blithe expression on his face. “Shoddy, can you honestly tell me that all this,” I gesture to the silent guards, “doesn’t have you the slightest bit worried for her health?” “Yup,” he says bluntly. “And what’s more, I’ll tell ya why.” That’s a wise choice on his part. If he hadn’t told me, I might have throttled him. “I saw Arinze just the other day, and he looked as happy as I’ve ever seen him.” Shoddy winks. “If something was wrong with Applejack, His Royal Stripy-ness would be crawlin’ the walls.” It’s a fair point to consider, but before I can, the younger of the two zebra guards snaps into place in front of Shoddy, barring the stallion’s path and glaring at him. “You will refrain from calling Prince Arinze ‘His Royal Stripy-ness!’” Shoddy blinks, surprised by the guard’s ire, then smiles, unconcerned. “No disrespect, buddy. I shared a trench with the stallion and we used to call him that to his face. He thought it was funny. Just ask him.” “It is not proper to address a prince that way!” “Look, pal, I got nothing but respect for the guy. Not just anypony gets ta marry the Gunny.” The guard looks like he’s about to give Shoddy an earful, but the older zebra addresses him in his own tongue. I don’t speak a word of Zwahili, but I know a rebuke when I hear one. The younger guard gives Shoddy one final glare before backing off. The argument averted (or at least ended), we resume walking. The older guard smiles at Shoddy and I, saying, “Please forgive my young compatriot’s enthusiasm. He did not have the privilege of serving the Prince in our homeland, and he is unused to how familiar he can be with commoners. To those who have not served the young lord before, his behavior may seem… odd.” “Eh,” shrugs Shoddy. “No worries. If I were in your shoes, I would think it odd that Arinze was buddy-buddy with a guy like me too.” “He is a magnanimous stallion, our prince,” says the guard proudly. “I am glad he has chosen to make his home with as fine a mare as Lady Applejack.” Shoddy chuckles. “You’d best get used ta callin’ her plain ‘Applejack.’ I don’t think Gunny’d take well to bein’ called ‘Her Ladyship.’” With a glance at his compatriot, the guard replies. “I imagine there will be an adjustment period for us all. Ah, but where are our manners.” Without slowing his pace, he dips his head to myself and Shoddy in a slight bow. “We know your names, but have not given ours. I am Kafil. This is Mwamba. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” I mentally kick myself. Worried out of my mind or not, there’s no excuse for being discourteous. “The pleasure is ours, good sirs,” I say, making a little bow of my own. More pointedly I add, “I only wish I understood the circumstances behind our meeting.” Kafil gives an enigmatic look that’s so like the one favored by Zecora, Arinze, and Nkea that I wonder if perhaps it’s just a Zebrican trait. “All will be revealed in due time, I assure you.” Typical. Shoddy picks that moment to strike up a conversation with Kafil about his sidearm, leading to a spirited discussion about the merits of Equestrian and Zebrican service revolvers. After a while, Mwamba is grudgingly drawn into the conversation. Ordinarily, I’d be celebrating that Shoddy seems to be making connections without prompting or direction, but as much as I’d like to pay attention, I can’t. My mind is too busy reviewing all that I know about Applejack. Firstly, it’s certainly nothing life-threatening. Shoddy is correct in noting that Arinze wouldn’t be so cheerful if it was. Secondly, the Apples are equally content, suggesting that they think that whatever is happening is good for Applejack. Thirdly, Applejack herself seems happy (which, upon reflection, is probably genuine rather than simply her putting on a brave face), yet she seems nervous and evasive as well, indicating that perhaps she fears telling the rest of us what is happening. Fourthly, zebras from the King’s Own are here, which is rather… abrupt. From what Applejack has told me, Arinze is far enough down the line of succession that he is permitted to reduce his personal guard to only three soldiers. Nkea is the first and, through some rather complicated backroom legal maneuverings, Applejack and Big MacIntosh are (on paper) retired reservists of the Zebrican military personally asked by King Ammon to assume the duties of honorary members of the King’s Own attached to the personal retinue of Arinze while holding no further duties to the Zebrican Crown— Honestly, the explanation went over my head. I’m fairly certain Twilight is the only one of us to understand. The point is, it’s odd that these guards are here. Something has to have changed. As I wrack my brain to figure out what it might be, my attention is drawn back to the conversation. “… thought about visiting Zebrica after the war,” Shoddy is saying. “Was too broke to afford it, though. Not because o’ the tickets, ya see, but the doctor’s visits.” Suddenly, he has my full attention. “I had no idea customs would be so picky,” he’s lamenting. “Who knew you’d have to get so much medical clearance just to change countries? They wanted to stick me so full o’ needles I woulda looked like a pincushion.” Medical clearance to change countries… that would explain… Kafil shrugs. “One cannot be too careful when travelling.” Travelling… or moving! Shoddy snorts. “Shoot, I was in Buzzard-land for years an’ the only shots I got were lead, know what I mean?” I don’t hear the rest of what he says, because I’m too busy telling myself that I have to be wrong. Arinze loves it at Sweet Apple Acres. Applejack said so the other day. But then, she also said that he loves his homeland, and it could be that he’s been called back. No, Rarity, they could just be travelling. That’s probably all there is to it. But if so, why are all the Apples so seemingly happy about it? Happy like something has changed. That’s ridiculous! They’d be devastated if she left! Then again… Big Mac may well be proposing to Twilight soon, and there’d be more than one Royal in the family. Perhaps he’d appreciate having a friend amongst the Zebrican Court… and he is fiercely proud of his sister. He might consider it her due. Grannie Smith certainly would, and for all I know she’d accompany them. As for Applebloom, well, she’s always had a bad case of hero worship where her sister is concerned, and she’s leaving for OCS soon, so she’ll be bidding farewell anyway. At least this way Applebloom sees her sister becoming the Great Lady she always thought she was. B-but what of the rest of us? What of her friends? She wouldn’t just… … she’s been so evasive, so afraid to talk to us… … she left for all those years, she wouldn’t just… she couldn’t just leave us to… ‘Make his home with as fine a mare as Lady Applejack.’ That was what Kafil said. Which means that she, she— I break into a gallop. This can’t happen! Not again! Behind me, Shoddy cries in alarm. “Miss Rarity, where are you going?” “Rarity, where are you going?” I turn to see Applejack standing there, resplendent in her Equestrian Marine Corps uniform. Behind her the sending off party rages on, alight with pride, passion, and patriotism – three things that fill me with self-loathing because I can’t feel them tonight. “I’m just… stepping away for some quiet, Applejack,” I reply. “No need to fuss.” “Yer steppin’ out on a sendoff party fer all the Ponyville ponies who’re enlisting,” says Applejack, unconvinced. “Ah think maybe a little fussin’ is called for.” “Tch!” I snort. “Yes, heaven forbid I take a little breather from a party for all my friends who are going off to war because it might be a tad overwhelming! Might feel a little sick after Twilight was sh—” I shudder, unable to finish the word. “I just need some quiet. Is that so wrong?” Applejack cocks an eyebrow. “So yer leaving?” “You’re the one who’s leaving, Applejack!” I snap before I can stop myself. “You and the other girls, running off to fight your cacked-up war, leaving me here with—” Tears choke off the rest of my rant and I look away, ashamed. Behind me, Applejack sighs. She plods over and throws a hoof over my withers, pulling me into a hug that’s both gruff and gentle. “It ain’t like we wanna leave, sugarcube,” she says. “Just thinkin’ about leavin’ you an’ Spike an’ Applebloom an’ Grannie…” her voice breaks a little, “…and Twilight… well… Ah don’t rightly know how Ah’m gonna manage.” I sit down so I can wipe at my tears. “I’m sorry, darling, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I just… I just wish you didn’t have to go.” Applejack sits next to me and strokes my back. “Me too, sugarcube. Me too.” We sit wordlessly for a moment, listening to the wake-like revelry behind us. “Celestia!” I exclaim, half-shout, half-sob. “I feel like such a coward.” “Hey!” chides Applejack prodding me gently. “None o’ that! We asked you ta stay, remember? Ain’t nopony else can take care o’ our families and Twilight by her lonesome! Spike may be mature for his age, but he’s still a kid. Twilight needs you here more than we need another trigger-puller.” ‘Trigger-puller,’ eh? Already she speaks a different tongue. “Besides,” she continues, her tone somber, “If anypony’s the coward here, it’s me.” “What?! Applejack, you’re joining the Marines, not a sewing circle! I fail to see how you could possibly be a coward!” She gives me a wan smile. “Gettin’ shot at don’t scare me none, Rarity. Danger never has. But being here with Twilight? Seeing her like this? Ah’ll be honest with you, Rares,” tears well in her eyes, “that terrifies me.” I don’t know what to say to that. The idea of Applejack being scared of anything is just, well, ridiculous. Maddening even. But then, the world has gone mad, by all accounts. Perhaps this is the new normal. What else will change before this blasted war is over? “Applejack,” I swallow the bile rising in my throat, “you will come back, won’t you? You and the girls? I… I can’t imagine Ponyville without you.” She gives me one of her patented Big Sister Applejack smiles. “Course Ah will, sugarcube. We’ll all come back ta Ponyville, safe and sound. And don’t you worry – when we get here, Ah don’t plan on leavin’ ever again.” She can’t be leaving! She promised! “Miss Rarity, slow down!” shouts Shoddy, galloping up next to me, the zebras flanking us. In spite of the exertion, I somehow manage to snarl, “You’re all fit young military stallions! Keep up!” Shoddy looks helplessly at the guards. Kafil chuckles, “The female of the species, my friend.” “Darn right!” I pant. The last couple miles to Sweet Apple Acres pass in a blur. I barely register my straining muscles, or the lather I’ve worked up, or the bemused looks of the pair of King’s Own lingering at the entrance. All I can think about is finding Applejack and hearing her tell me that it isn’t true – that I won’t have to say goodbye again. Following the sound of voices, I rush to the living room. Bursting through the doorway, I see Applejack and Arinze sharing their favorite loveseat. Arrayed around them are the Apple family, along with Nkea, Spike, Bud, Thunderlane, and the girls. Not surprisingly, Shoddy and I are the last to arrive. Those present were conversing when I entered, but they stop abruptly upon seeing me. Applejack gives a surprised laugh. “Rarity, are you okay, girl? You look like you sprinted the whole way here.” My attempt to reply is impeded by the fact that I am panting too hard to speak. In my defense, it’s been a few years since we adventured regularly. Shoddy makes himself ‘helpful’ by remarking, “Yeah, she just sorta took off and sprinted the whole last leg o’ the journey. Ain’t sure what got into her. Is that a lady problem thing?” If I weren’t so out of breath, I would slap the crap out of him for that. Fortunately for him, I’m too busy sucking down air to kill him, and most of the other ponies in the room either react with laughter or exclamations of concern for his health when I recover. Blinking, he tilts his head and asks, “What’d I say?” While a bewildered Shoddy receives a brief lesson in etiquette from the husbands in the room, Fluttershy quietly passes me a glass of water. “Thank you, darling,” I manage before guzzling the refreshingly cool contents. As I rehydrate, I keep watching Applejack over the top of the glass. My embarrassing entrance and Shoddy’s subsequent blunder served to distract me briefly, but now that I’ve had a moment to catch my breath and quench my thirst, my thirst for answers has returned. Apparently sensing my scrutiny, Applejack addresses me with a half-smile. “Rares, why’d ya sprint all this way?” Her brow furrows in concern. “And why d’ya look so worried?” I choke on the water, half-gagging myself to avoid spraying it everywhere. Ignoring the pain, I croak, “Why do I look so worried?” Massaging my throat with a hoof, I indicate the zebras with a tilt of my head. “These stallions show up out of nowhere, your family says nothing about what’s going on, you refuse to say a thing about your doctor’s visit… Applejack, why wouldn’t I be worried?!” The farm mare recoils slightly, a guilty look on her face. There – she knows what she has to say will hurt! Oh, Celestia, how I hate being right! The others are staring – her family with the same guilty look as Applejack; our friends with horror. They’ll be more horrified yet when they hear the inevitable news! “Just get it over with, Applejack!” I cry. “You can’t spare us the news, so out with it! However much it hurts!” Total silence greets me as everypony and dragon stares at me open-mouthed. Applejack and Arinze in particular seem dumbfounded. They share a long look, and I bite my lip, dreading what their response will be when they eventually reply. … Roaring gales of laughter were not what I expected. Now it’s my turn to be dumbfounded as the couple practically fall off their loveseat. Perhaps the others are reacting in some way as well, but I’m too caught up watching the pair to notice. Eventually, Applejack regains enough control of herself to speak. “Rarity, Ah don’t know where you got the idea that we had bad news,” she chortles through tears of mirth, “and Ah’m mighty sorry if’n we got ya worked up fer nothin’, but there ain’t no great catastrophe to tell ya’ll about.” I taste copper in the back of my throat. “There… isn’t?” “No, silly filly,” the farmer laughs. More soberly she adds, “In fact,” Arinze loops a foreleg over her shoulders and the two share a soulful look, “it’s somethin’ real beautiful we’ve got to share.” Some distant part of me is aware of Pinkie making a giddy ‘eeee!’ sound like she’s about to burst, and that Applebloom is practically prancing in place, but my mind is so adrift that whatever else is happening in the room barely registers. “Oh?” I breathe. “Yup,” smiles Applejack, her smile the warmest I’ve ever seen it. She and Arinze share a kiss, then turn to us and chorus, “We’re pregnant.” To say that Applejack and Arinze’s announcement was greeted with much excitement would be something of an understatement. Between Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, myself, Pinkie Pie, Applebloom, Twilight, and Pinkie Pie, I’m frankly surprised we didn’t shatter any windows with our collective ‘squee.’ Big Mac is still rubbing his ears when he thinks no one else is watching. Poor boy always had sharp ears. On the upside, we confirmed that old Winona isn’t entirely deaf, as she began yelping when we hit top pitch. Not to be outdone, Shoddy and Thunderlane gave war whoops while Bud rattled off something that sounded like it was part of the Marine’s Creed. The Apples already knew, of course. Grannie Smith looked like the cat that ate the canary, Applebloom was bouncing around like a puppy, and Big Mac… well… the big softie was bawling his eyes out. Nkea who, like the Apples, had already known, was grinning ear-to-ear – the first such smile I’ve ever seen on his face. It’s frankly a miracle Applejack and Arinze didn’t get smothered beneath all the hugs. They themselves started crying pretty quick after the happy news was out. Then Pinkie Pie started in, Big Mac was already well underway, and pretty soon there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Not even Nkea’s. I’d try to repeat all the beautiful things that were said – all the many ways we told them how proud we are, how thrilled we are, what a marvelous blessing this is – but, in truth, I couldn’t do it justice. Mere words, even direct quotes, do not convey the depth of what was said. Just as what we said could never capture the beauty of the miracle in our midst. Applejack and Arinze are parents. How magnificent that is! No artistry in the world can compare to what love creates! Once the tears have been (mostly) dried and the excitement has (relatively) quieted, we get a bit of an explanation about the extra guards. “It’s Zebrican law,” admits Applejack sourly, though Arinze just looks amused. “Before Ah was pregnant, some loopholes let me call myself one o’ Arinze’s bodyguards. Once Ah became pregnant, though, Ah became part o’ the Royal Bloodline, meanin’ that not only does he get another guard, but Ah need three for me, and the baby needs another three.” Arinze nuzzles her. “It is well that we were already planning on additional construction around the farm. We shall need more room.” She rests her head against his barrel. “And room ta grow.” “That is also why we could not tell any of you sooner,” explains Arinze. “Until enough members of the King’s Own were present, we were not permitted to tell any outside the immediate family. I apologize for any distress this may have caused.” “May have caused?” laughs Rainbow, pointing at me. “Uh, dude? I think you mean did cause.” I flush red. “Yeah,” chimes in Applebloom. “What was all that about anyway?” Clearing my throat nervously, I attempt to explain. “In my defense, darlings, I had a lot of circumstantial evidence…” One rather embarrassing explanation later, I am greeted with a mixture of sympathy and amusement. To the credit of the latter, they at least try to smother their laughter. Applejack and Arinze chuckled here and there, but for the most part they just looked sorry for me. Applejack in particular. “Oh, Rarity,” she says gently, “we’d never make a big decision like that without telling ya’ll about it long before deciding anything. Ah’m mighty sorry you were so worried.” I wave her off, hoping I look convincing. “It’s perfectly all right, Applejack. Not your fault I worked myself into a tizzy over nothing.” Twilight gives a weak laugh and scratches the back of her neck. “Yeah, that might be my fault.” In response to my quizzical look, she explains, “You lived with me for six years, Rarity. I think you might have picked up some bad habits from me.” The suggestion sends a chill down my spine because, while she’s right, she’s also wrong. Unable to say as much aloud, I force an amused smile. Spike flies up to perch on the back of Twilight’s chair, his deepening voice amused as he quips, “At least she hasn’t started singing freakout arias yet.” “Hah!” guffaws Pinkie Pie. “Imagine Twilight and Rarity both Twilighting at the same time! They’d break into a duet that’d put Bridleway to shame!” Everypony laughs at that; even I manage a weak chuckle. Twilight laughs with them until the statement registers. “Hahaha, that’s… wait, ‘Twilighting?’ You made me a verb?” “Of course, silly filly,” says Pinkie, poinking Twilight on the nose. “Did the rest of you know about this?” Ponies suddenly find fascinating parts of the rustic decor to contemplate. “How long have you all been doing this?!” While the others attempt to explain the origin of ‘Twilighting’ and its companion term ‘Twilinanas’ to the mare herself, I excuse myself to the kitchen, ostensibly to get a drink. In truth, I just need a moment to compose myself. I flip on the tap and watch the water flow. Twilight is right; I did come to my present capacity for panic thanks to her, but not in the way she thinks. I can trace the exact moment it started. I can still see her blood spray when I close my eyes. “You alright, Miss Rarity?” I nearly jump out of my skin. “Shoddy!” I shout, wheeling to see him standing in the doorway. “I didn’t hear you come in!” The retired Marine stares intently. “Miss Rarity, if you don’t mind my saying, I didn’t expect you ta be the sort ta lose yer cool.” Oh wonderful. Now the stallion who’s come to me for stability is realizing that I have issues of my own, though nothing so dramatic as to be unmanageable. “It’s nothing, darling,” I lie. Realizing I’ve left the water running, I shut it off with a twist of my magic. “I just have a tendency to assume the worst these days.” Shoddy nods, sympathetic. “I can understand that. ‘cept I’ve always been that way. Likely ’cause that’s usually been my lot in life, I s’pose. But you shouldn’t feel that way, Miss Rarity.” He gives a rueful smile. “Unlike an ol’ plodder like me, you’ve actually got something going for ya. Don’t go throwin’ away all the good things ya got just because some things ’ave gone wrong for ya.” His statement leaves me wordless. It would seem there are hidden depths to the stallion; it’s a pity he doesn’t seem to see his own qualities. “You’ve got something of the sage in you, Shoddy,” I remark. “You’re right, of course.” Glancing out the window, I take in the Acreage beyond; or, more accurately, I stare past it, off in the direction of the way things used to be. “There was a time I was an optimist, you know. I suppose, somewhere along the line, that started to slip away.” I turn back to him with a smile. “I guess I’ll just have to start counting my blessings more often.” Reaching up to prod him once in the chest, I add, “As for you thinking you’ve got nothing going for you, I think you’ll find there’s more to you than you think. We’ll just have to bring it to the foreground.” At first, he doesn’t seem sold on the idea, and he glances away like he always does whenever somepony says something complimentary of him. This time, though, inspiration seems to brighten his eyes, and he turns back to me, saying, “Well, if’n you can help me, maybe it’ll help you too.” I can’t help but smile. “Indeed.” In fact, I’d say we’ve already started. “We should probably get back before they miss us,” he suggests, tilting his head to the doorway. “Quite right. Lead on, my good sir.” We re-enter to see the explanation of ‘Twilinanas’ and ‘Twilighting’ winding down. Fluttershy is comfortingly rubbing Twilight’s back while the alicorn buries her face in Big Mac’s fur to hide her embarrassment. I must say, her blush matches his coat rather nicely. Then Pinkie, changing conversational gears without prelude, zips over to Arinze and presses a box containing jars of pickles and honey into his hooves, charging him, in no uncertain terms, to open them for Applejack in precisely three months, twenty-one days, and forty-seven minutes. At first the zebra laughs, but the laughter swiftly dies under Pinkie’s piercing gaze, and he humbly promises to follow her directions. Bud remarks that this is a wise course of action. Applejack watches with a chuckle, then turns to me with a kindly gaze and winks. I smile as her message comes through loud and clear: Don’t worry. Everything’s gonna be okay.