“Applejack! Hey Applejack!”
The Ponyville marketplace was crowded, but Fiddlesticks still saw Applejack’s ears perk up over the gaggle of celebrating ponies. Fiddle pushed through, ignoring the others in her urgency. She hadn’t quite expected Applejack to be back to the grind so quickly after her ordeal, but it made sense. It was who she was, after all.
“Well, howdy, cousin,” Applejack tipped her hat as Fiddle finally pushed her way through the ponies dancing, cheering, and drinking in the marketplace. “Good day for it, don’t ya think?”
“Sure,” Fiddle muttered. She didn’t feel like celebrating, but she could see why all the others were. It was a great day for Equestria, after all.
“What can I do for ya?” Applejack’s green eyes narrowed just slightly. Of course she’d pick up on Fiddlestick’s mood.
“Um, do you have a second? To talk? I’ll buy you dinner. Or a drink.” Honestly she hoped Applejack would pick the second. She could use a bit of hard cider in her gut for what was coming.
“Alrighty,” Applejack nodded slowly. “Just lemme let Mac know what’s going on.”
“You’re gonna stay open?”
“Sure we are,” Applejack nodded. “We’re gonna be sellin’ apples as long as the townsfolk are celebrating. Good for business.”
“I thought you’d be resting,” Fiddlesticks shrugged.
“Yeah, well,” Applejack blushed slightly. “Celebration like this is good for business. Seemed like a fine time to make some bits.”
Fiddlesticks couldn’t help but grin. “Always the businessmare, huh?”
“Right. And where’s your fiddle? I thought you’d be joining in the merrymaking for sure.”
Fiddlesticks looked down at her hooves, rubbing one against the other. “It’s in my saddlebag. I… didn’t feel much like celebratin’.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Maybe someplace that ain’t so crowded?” Fiddle offered, and Applejack nodded.
“Got ya. Hey Mac?” She glanced over to her brother, standing next to her at the apple cart. “Gotta take care of somethin’ with Fiddle here. You good to hold down the fort?”
“Eeyup,” Big Mac’s smile was confident, and he waved at Fiddlesticks. She felt a sudden stab of guilt. She surely didn’t deserve this easy, unearned affection.
“Mighty grateful, brother,” Applejack nodded to him, and wrapped a hoof around Fiddle’s shoulders. “C’mon, cousin. Let’s find someplace to get some cold cider. You look like you could use some liquid comfort.”
Wasn’t that the truth? The hoof around her back was supposed to be comforting. Instead, Fiddle felt as if it was burning.
Fiddlesticks thought they’d head to a bar, or maybe even one of Ponyville’s restaurants. Instead they made their way straight to Sweet Apple Acres. The sun was going down, sending a painted splash of orange, pink and red over the orchard. Applejack sighed with pleasure at the sight. Fiddlesticks had to keep from shivering.
“We’re not going to the bar?”
“Nah,” Applejack shook her head. “Got a fresh cask I haven’t tapped in the cold cellar, under the bar. Fresher than the stuff we sell to the bar. You okay with that?”
“I guess,” Fiddle mumbled.
“If it’s not, you can speak up,” Applejack said. “Really. Whatever’s eatin’ you, sugarcube, you can tell me.”
“I plan on it,” Fiddle whispered, but when she opened her mouth to confess, nothing came out. “O-once I’ve got some cider in me, of course.”
“Whatever you say, sugarcube.”
The farm was peaceful and still, even though they could both still hear the sounds of celebrating from Ponyville. It should have been comforting, and relaxing. Not heavy and oppressive. Fiddlesticks followed Applejack into the barn, and watched silently as she fetched a wooden cask out of the basement, along with two small glasses.
“This ain’t cider, mind you. It’s my own namesake. So take it slow, unless you really got something y’all wanna forget.”
“It’s possible,” Fiddle said. She watched as Applejack poured the amber liquid into the glasses, and took hers. She didn’t hesitate for a moment, throwing the glass back and pouring the liquor into her throat, only to cough as the alcohol burn hit the back of her throat.
“Consarn it, cousin, I told y’all to take it slow.” Applejack thumped her back as she coughed, her voice thick with amusement. “Now, care to tell me what’s got you so worked up and rarin’ to drink?”
“Can you…” Fiddlesticks whispered. “Can you tell me about it?”
Applejack immediately sobered, glancing at her own glass and taking a strong pull herself.
“I can,” she started slowly. “You’ve probably heard it all, though.”
“I want to hear from you,” Fiddlesticks pushed.
“If ya want,” Applejack sounded unenthusiastic. “Have a seat on one of the bales, cousin. It’s not a long tale, but it’s a hard one.”
As Applejack spoke, she told the story. Of how a pony looking just like Twilight had come to talk to her in the barn. Of the horror and betrayal as her friend had exploded in green fire, replaced by a monster. How a swarm of them had captured her, dragging her down and binding her in a gooey pod.
She spoke about how helpless she felt as they were all carted off to the hive. How there was nothing she could do as her friends, one after another, were plopped down next to her. Then the princesses. Then Shining Armor and his family. Then all of Equestria’s protectors, locked together, trapped in place, haunted by the alien eyes of the mocking swarm.
“I guess I get why you’re so rustled up about the whole thing,” Applejack said. “To be honest, I’m glad it’s over, but it’s gonna bug me for a long time, the way there was nothing we could do.”
“But it ended well, right?” Fiddlesticks needed to hear this. “Tell me about the next part!”
“The next part’s pretty good, I guess,” Applejack shrugged as she poured herself another cup. She glanced over, holding out her hoof for Fiddlestick’s glass, and gave her a refill, too. “Starlight and her friends showed up. Thorax made a speech in front of the rest of the bugs, telling ‘em they didn’t have to work for that awful queen any longer. That they could be friends, or some such. And then they changed.”
“What was it like?” Dread and awe filled her voice, and she didn’t even bother to hide it.
“Honestly?” Applejack smirked. “Weird. But kinda pretty. They’re all rainbowy now. Not scary at all.” She laughed. “They kinda remind me of those little candies, now. The ones that say to taste the rainbow, or some such.”
“R-really?”
“Eeyup,” Applejack shook her head, amused. “They may be odd, but they’re a good kinda odd now. I gotta say I like it. It’s better for them. More honest, ya know?”
“Okay.” Fiddlesticks breathed. It was harder than it should have been. She took another breath. Then a third. She counted to ten. It wasn’t working.
“You okay, sugarcube? I know things were a mite scary, but things ended well. Ya don’t have to be frightened.”
“If only you knew,” Fiddlesticks felt her hooves shaking. She set down the empty glass before she could drop it, and before she could think twice about what she was doing, she dropped onto the dirt floor of the barn, belly first.
“What are y’all…” Applejack began, but then Fiddle changed. A burst of green fire, a flash of light, and suddenly there was a very different creature huddling on her belly before Applejack. Fiddlesticks’ blue insectoid eyes were clenched shut, but she knew from earlier experience that her chitin was now yellow, just like the fur of her disguise.
“Okay.” Applejack’s voice was hard and cold. “You’re gonna wanna start explaining yerself right now. You can start with where my cousin is.”
“I-I’m your cousin, Applejack. I’m Fiddlesticks. I can…”
“I’m pretty sure I’d know if my own cousin was a bug!” Applejack shouted, jerking to her hooves, shaking one threateningly at her. Fiddle looked up to see the strong mare standing over her, dark fire in her eyes. “Start talkin’.”
“F-Fiddlesticks, that is, the first one, died when she was a f-foal,” Fiddle admitted, whimpering as she watched Applejack’s eyes narrow with fury.
“You mean your kind killed a little filly?”
“N-no!” Fiddlesticks yelped. “It was an accident! She and her parents, at the same time! It was a f-fire. I was barely a n-nymph. The Queen thought it’d be a great opportunity to s-sneak some infiltrators into one of the largest families in Equestria. My ‘parents’ were changelings too, after the accident, until they passed a few years back.”
“Uh huh. And how do I know you’re not just lying? Making up some horseapples so I’ll trust you? Maybe you’re still working for the Queen.”
“I’m not, I swear!” Fiddle squeaked. “I’ve s-spent most of my life impersonating Fiddlesticks. Every reunion, every conversation, it’s been m-me. I’m your c-cousin, AJ!”
“Right,” Applejack snorted. Her hoof moved, and Fiddle flinched, clenching her eyes shut for the blow she was sure was coming. Instead, she heard Applejacks’ hooves impacting against the dirt as she walked around to where Fiddle had dropped her saddlebags. She heard Applejack rustling around, but didn’t dare look up until she saw/heard something dropping to the floor in front of her face. She knew it was her fiddle case.
“D-don’t drop it!” she protested, jerking her eyes open and snatching the case lovingly with her hooves. “It’s beat up enough as it is!”
“Whatever,” Applejack said dismissively. “Play something.”
“W-what?”
“Y’all heard me. Play somethin’. I wanna see if it’s really you.”
“What do you want to hear?”
“Dealer’s choice.” The look in Applejack’s eyes was terrifying, and Fiddle’s heart pounded as she gulped, nodding silently
Her hooves trembled as she popped open the latches on the case, and her eyes poured over the fiddle, searching for any new dent or scratch after Applejack’s rough treatment. It was her oldest possession, and it carried the years. She knew every mark, every stain, every imperfection in the wood. It still had one broken string, the one that she always meant to replace, but never quite got around to. She took one long, strong deep breath, willing her hooves to stop shaking to pick up the instrument.
She took a moment to run her hooves across the surface before picking up the bow. Fortunately, it too had been spared from any damage. She slowly rose so she was sitting and slipped the fiddle under her chin. She tried to meet Applejack’s eyes, but she could only see the cold fire of fury, so she glanced at the floor.
She raised the bow to the strings, carefully running it across the fiddle before adjusting the tuning keys. Her heart pounded as Applejack began to tap one hoof impatiently, but there was no way she was playing anything without tuning her fiddle first. Once she was satisfied, she rested the bow on the strings again, trying to come up with something to play.
Nothing. She drew a complete blank.
“Can’t play nothing, can ya?” There was something dark and disgusted in Applejack’s voice. “I should have realized.”
Fiddlesticks opened her mouth to respond, to argue, to plead, to say anything. But there were no words. The hurt, the betrayal, the lack of trust she saw in Applejack’s eyes stabbed deep in her heart, twisting at the guilt and shame she felt. If she’d only known sooner there was a better way than the Queen’s way.
Unbidden, memories flooded her mind. Reunions as foals, coming to Sweet Apple Acres, meeting her ‘family’. Playing tag through the orchards with a young Applejack and Big Mac. Helping to babysit Apple Bloom. Her first family talent show, to stand up on a wooden stage surrounded by smiling Apples. She remembered coming here as a teenager, sharing stories about cute stallions with her cousins. The Apples were her family, just as much as the hive was. And she was going to lose both of them forever.
A soft, moaning sound filled the barn, echoing off the wood walls. With a start, Fiddlesticks realized it was from her, slowly drawing her bow across the strings in a minor chord. Her eyes met Applejack’s, and she saw surprise twisting the otherwise angry look on her face. She changed the bow’s direction, progressing through a song she’d learned years ago. A song about memory and loss, about regrets and shame. The barn filled with the sounds of her mourning, of what she’d lost.
Wordlessly she played, her bow dancing across the strings in what she was sure would be her final performance for her family. She thought of all the cousins, all the aunts and uncles, and tears trickled down her cheeks. She clenched her eyes shut; Apple family members were stoic, enduring. Strong. The backbone of Equestria. Apples weren’t supposed to cry on the outside. She was practiced at keeping it all inside. But her practice was failing her.
When she was done, and the last, weeping note dissipated into the air, she dared to wrench her tear-soaked eyes again. Applejack was standing there, staring at her, just where she’d been before. Only now, the expression in her eyes had shifted. No longer was she angry; instead an unreadable, distant look filled her damp eyes.
“S-so, I guess you’ll be moving back in with the hive, then?” Applejack said, and Fiddlesticks stared at her, nonplussed. It wasn’t the reaction she’d been expecting.
“I-I guess so,” Fiddlesticks whispered. Her throat was raw. She burned with grief, already missing the farm, the family, the friendships.
“Good. At least I’ll know where to send the invitation.”
“Invitation?” Fiddlesticks blinked her insectoid eyes, cocking her head to the side in confusion.
“For the next reunion,” Applejack explained, reaching up with one hoof to brush at her eyes. “No imposter could have played like that, Fiddle. Yer an Apple, after all.”
“I…” her fiddle dropped out of suddenly numb hooves, and Applejack gave a yelp, reaching out to catch it before it could crash to the floor. The bow did fall, bouncing on the dirt. Carefully AJ replaced it in the case, before looking up at Fiddlesticks. Their eyes met, and Applejack held out a hoof, blushing with embarrassment.
“Guess I shouldn’t have doubted you. Friends, cousin?”
Fiddlesticks laughed, shook her head at the hoof, and pulled her cousin into the first hug of her new life. It felt right. It felt comfortable. It felt like family.