And that was how Applejack returned to prison once more. By then the house of criminals had lost all its novelty to her and trotting the dull grey corridors did little to uplift her spirits.
As she entered through the heavily reinforced iron door, she saw the cell’s previous three occupants sitting in a circle on the floor, playing cards. A small pile of bits sat next to the two stallions, with merely two coins on the mare’s side. As the players laid down their cards, Blind slowly hung her head and tossed her remaining bits over as well.
Her sombreness immediately dissolved, however, as she spotted Applejack. The farmpony ignored her cheerful wave and instead chose to collapse on the bed, turning towards the wall.
“Ah just don’t get it,” she grumbled at the flaky cold wall. “I try only my best but everything keeps goin’ wrong. An’ the trees at home might get sick any day now too.”
“Sister, have faith,” said Blind, as she got up from the floor. “Our Radiant Princess watches over us even at this very moment.”
“Well, she better,” agreed Applejack with a sigh. She turned away from the wall, eyeing the three others in the room with a tired gaze. “You know, I think things are this close to bein’ fine, but there are just a few too many troublemakers and no-goods out there messin’ with stuff. I bet everypony will be put to their place darn soon enough though.”
“Including you,” interjected one of the brothers. Which one, Applejack was too angry to tell.
Applejack shot him a puncturing gaze. “Be as nasty as ya want, I did mean that including myself.” She then turned to the mare. “So what’s for lunch today?”
A series of secretive knocks later, the expression on Blind’s face changed from deep concentration to bright joy. “By Her blessed Sun! We’re having potato salad!”
Applejack licked her lips upon hearing the name of such a much more favourable food. She felt her good mood slowly return, especially now that she was at least a little vindicated in her beliefs. “See,”—she said triumphantly—“things really are improving after all.”
And yet, in a cruel twist of Harmony, she didn’t remain long enough in prison to enjoy her meal, instead spending her lunchtime once again at the Colonel’s.
As soon as they entered Pinkie’s workroom, Applejack felt like it was now or never. “Miss Pie, I beg ya kindly, enough with these experiments of yours,” she desperately pleaded.
Pinkie watched her with a silent little frown and sighed. Wordlessly, she disappeared into her kitchen, then returned with a fancy apple cake. She gently placed the dish in front of Applejack, before collapsing into a chair. Her mane hung limply, obscuring her face.
“This is triple-super-unfun,” she muttered to herself. “The intercreatural situation is still intensifying and I’m tired, so-so very tired, Applejack.”
Applejack felt her conviction crack a little as she beheld the pony who seemed to be such an inexhaustible source of energy suddenly so glum. Yet she could not stop now. “You’ve had your fun, but I don’t wanna be yanked around no more. My trees are hurtin’ at home! Please let me home to tend to them. I cannot expect Bloomie and Mac to take care of them alone!”
“You think I’m doing this for ‘fun’?” Pinkie asked, as she slowly moved her mane out of her face and stared at Applejack with lifeless, tired eyes. “Do you know how many nights I’ve spent sleepless to turn this sorry country into the happiest stable on this side of the globe?” She scoffed. “Even I can’t recall!”
Applejack scratched her head, trying to come up with something to reassure her. “I’spose I feel ya on that front. We do all have many sleepless nights nowadays,” she said sympathetically, before realisation suddenly shone on her face. “I know! Why not try some more apple cider? After just a few mugs you’ll sleep so soundly, they could drop a mountain next to you an’ ya wouldn’t even care!”
Pinkie, however, wasn’t listening. She merely averted her eyes and sighed wistfully. “It’s no use. The enemy is already among us,” she whispered.
Applejack stared in horror. “You mean—”
“I mean, we will ask something of you very-very soon,” Pinkie snapped back.
“Look, if it means we won’t need to bother each other again, then please, just ask already. I’ll do anything!”
“Nope, you still gotta learn to be more patient.” Pinkie suddenly regained her trademark smile and sprang out of the chair, landing next to Applejack. The farmer stared at her wide-eyed, her gaze retracing the surprisingly long flight during which she somehow managed to not hit anything in the chaos of the room. “Until then, I’m putting you to new use!” she said in a chipper tone, now from up-close.
“Miss Pie, are you even listening to me?” Desperation and frustration fought each other for the prime spot in her voice. “I’ve told you. I’m really not the right pony for your tasks.”
“Bah, nonsense. Tell me, do you love…”
“Our Great Princess?” Applejack asked expectantly.
“Pffft, no silly,” Pinkie replied, hardly being able to contain her giggles. “This time I meant tomatoes.”
“I’m sure I do,” Applejack conceded after a second. She hung her head, understanding her defeat. “I haven’t eaten any in a decade.”
And that is how she became the director of the Equestrian Lunar Tomato Society.
Despite her unwillingness at first, this time she found herself in her element. Sure, tomatoes weren’t exactly apples, but they were red and round and at the end of the day they were still plants that required care and attention to grow. This was work she was more than familiar with.
She had large swathes of land plowed, taking much of the work into her very own hooves, and gratuitously seeded with tomatoes. The work also brought with itself industry. New home after new home was built for the families of the ever growing group of tomato-researchers—each more eager than the last to help with the cause—along with brand new schools, kindergartens, and even a whole new park. By the end of the year a prestigious little district grew in place of what used to be barren mountainside.
However, while property values soared, in terms of yield things didn’t seem nearly as impressive, at least at the moment. Through all the hectares upon hectares of frail green plants, there was only a single pale-orange orb to be found. Applejack, crested by her little army, spent all day and all night measuring the little pioneer’s growth, watering its plant’s soil, protecting it from wind and cold, all in eager anticipation for the day of the harvest—a momentous occasion, during which the first Lunar tomato would be cut in the presence of Her Majesty herself, followed by the ceremonial gifting of various accolades and awards.
It was the day before the celebrations and Applejack made one last round to check if everything was in order. She made sure the dais was prepared and that the great signpost hanging above it—with the words “Ahead for the Lunar Tomato!” written on it—was taut enough. She had already sent the rest of the team home, allowing them to make themselves ready for the big event. Once everything seemed to be to her satisfaction, she took the time to trot out into the fields at the last light of the Sun and take one last cherished look at the still slightly struggling, but at least finally decently red bulb. Its cheerful hue and shiny surface reassured Applejack.
Finally, she thought, exhaling a content sigh as she turned to go home. Finally something went well.
The night came and passed quickly, and it was time to celebrate. The dais groaned from all the nobleponies sitting on it, especially from the alicorn Princess, who took the first seat. The air was filled by the sound of music and the excited gasps of the audience standing a bit further behind as the recently rechristened Shadowbolts made their way through their sky in daring feats of dangerous acrobatics clad in skintight latex suits.
Applejack wasn’t quite able to enjoy the attractions as the others with the twisting knot in her stomach. She excused herself from the crowd and took the opportunity to sneak backstage and take one last look at the star of the show: The one and only Lunar Tomato, hidden under a crystal lid covered by the Lunar flag. Before she could have raised the cloth, however, a voice called out from behind her.
“Mm. Oph, phey Siphs.”
She turned around to find Apple Bloom standing behind her, munching on something in great delight. Applejack slowly felt the blood freeze in her, despite the warm Summer day. She stumbled back a little, then forwards, unsure if she really wanted to know for sure what her little sister was so eagerly chewing on.
“Apple Bloom,” Applejack asked slowly, her eyes unfocused and tone flat. “What in Tartarus are you eating exactly?”
“Dunno,” came the nonchalant answer. “I found it on tha’ desk, it’s tasty stuff.” She swallowed and licked her lips. “Yum! Some round red thingy, looked a bit like a tiny weird apple. Y’know what I mean?”
Suddenly the very sky seemed to darken in front of Applejack’s eyes. She buried her face in a hoof, just to make sure she wasn’t having a nightmare. Sadly, she wasn’t. “Apple Bloom.” She did not raise her voice. It took her all of her concentration to find the words she wanted to say. “Did you eat the tomato that was on the desk behind me?” she asked, chasing that faint, fickle hope that this was all a big misunderstanding and through some miracle there was some other round, red object on the desk.
“A to-may-to, huh?” Apple Bloom nodded. “Fancy name!"
“Did you eat it?” Applejack wasn’t as much saying them, as the words were simply tumbling out of her mouth.
"Yup, I did. It was really tasty!” Bloom added eagerly. “When can we get some more?”
Applejack didn’t reply.
“What’s the matter, Sis?” the filly asked with an innocent blink after sensing that something was wrong. As her sister continued to stand there like some grotesque ornament nobles often placed on the edges of their castle walls to scare off unruly pegasi foals, Apple Bloom’s little mind did its best to come up with an explanation. After a few seconds the pieces of the most likely answer finally clicked in her mind. Her eyes went wide and she looked to the side, blushing in embarrassment. “Oh no. I didn’t know you liked them that much. I’m real sorry, I should have left you some.”
“Ah’m so screwed.”
Applejack continued to stand there in a daze. Then she found herself rushing out towards the dais in a panic. Forcing a little calmness on herself, she looked over the crowd for any hope of fixing this unfixable situation.
Her eyes suddenly came to a halt on Pinkie Pie, who sat on the side, kicking her hooves around. Applejack snuck up to her, doing her best to not raise attention and whispered into Pinkie’s ear. “Miss Pie, it’s all over. My little sister ate the tomato.”
Pinkie remained unfazed by the unexpected turn of events, she merely reached under her seat, pulling out and passing Applejack a big red apple.
“B-but this is an apple.” Decades’ worth of agricultural experience gathered in this one statement.
“It’s a tomato,” came the resolute answer.
“It is clearly an apple,” Applejack tried again, but Pinkie placed a hoof on her mouth.
“It is a tomato and I’m not arguing it.” And that was that.
Once the flight show was over, the big band redoubled its efforts and, as the Equestrian anthem blared over the audience, Applejack presented Her Majesty the platter containing the apple.
With royal elegance, the Princess levitated the fruit off the plate and raised it to her mouth. A tiny bite later her eyes suddenly contracted and she shrunk back, looking with hardly-suppressed rage at the pony in front of her.
“What is this?” she hissed.
“A tomato,” Applejack replied after a second, glancing over to Pinkie Pie for strength, who had since procured a sign saying ‘Go get her, AJ!’ from somewhere. Applejack’s words gained momentum. “It is the new Lunar Tomato. It might be a bit sweeter and a bit whiter on the inside, but it is all ours!”
The Princess’s pupils narrowed paper-thin and she raised an accusatory eyebrow. Applejack gulped and suddenly felt very cold despite the hot summer day. With a silent prayer towards Granny and all the Apple ancestors, she forced her lips into a wide, shining smile.
A second later the spell broke and Nightmare Moon nodded graciously. Amid loud cheering, especially from one particular pink pony, she continued to eat the new Lunar tomato with only the slightest hint of unease and suspicion on her face.
Applejack meanwhile stepped away and, once she was finally out of the limelight, exhaled a breath that her lungs had compressed into diamonds.
The rest of the day was smooth sailing from then on. Surrounded by the near-deafening sound of congratulatory stomping, the awards and accolades were finally distributed.
Another victory for Equestria! Another victory for the Lunars!
Applejack herself received a badge and not without reason. The mare was caught up in the jubilation, as she looked with satisfaction and a bit of pride at the small crescent moon hanging from her chest. Finally, she thought. Finally something really went well. Though there was a little niggling sensation in the back of her mind that not everything was that well after all.
In the afternoon celebrations continued in the Royal Theatre, where the evergreen classic recounting the events of Equestria’s founding was being played. A pony sang about how the four tribes used to be separated and how the wretched Sun Tyrant forbid the fiery globe from rising, causing the world to gradually freeze over, bringing suffering and misery to all ponykind. Applejack and her family watched the play from a private box, courtesy of being the project’s director.
Suddenly the door to the box clicked and then clicked again.
Before Applejack could have turned around to check who intruded upon her family scene, her vision was completely filled by pink mane. She politely moved the overwhelming pink ocean out of her eyes and came face to face with an extremely widely smiling Pinkie Pie.
“We’ve done it!” she said with unmasked triumph. “See, AJ, wasn’t it worth it?” Her hoof swept over the theatre in front of them. “Now this is a real party!” She finally took half a step back, allowing some breathing room for the poor mare.
“I suppose,” Applejack agreed, though her voice didn’t match her enthusiasm nor the joy she felt previously. “Look, Miss Pie… It’s not that I’m not happy y’all are happy, but I’ve had some time to think an’ I kinda feel rotten about this whole tomato thing.” She glanced around and lowered her voice to a whisper. “We’ve done this by lyin’ to folks after all.”
“Pffft, come now Jackie, don’t joke around.” Pinkie struggled to keep quiet as she burst out laughing, causing a few other boxes to shush them in frustration. “Who did we really lie to?” Her laughter tamed into a knowing smile and she too lowered her voice. "Ourselves? We know full well what happened.
"Your crew? You and I both know they never really cared much about tomatoes anyways and most of the real work was done by you. Your toiling really brought tears to one’s eye, y’know? The rest just enjoyed being part of an exciting but easy project and the clout of getting an award from Her Majesty. For the rest of their lives they will smile if they hear the name ‘Applejack’.
“Maybe then Equestria? Let’s not kid ourselves. There hasn’t been enough sunlight to grow tomatoes for decades now anyways. Our ponies don’t even remember what they’re missing out on, but they’re happy and proud anyways because we’ve succeeded and they feel this success rightfully their own too.”
Pinkie paused for a second for emphasis.
“Now the world at large?” She giggled into her hoof. “Oh yes! We’ve fooled them through and through. I wouldn’t like to be in their horseshoes right now!” Another little giggle, followed by her giving Applejack one of her trademark hugs. Pinkie whispered into her ear from up-close in quiet ecstasy, “The order was given: Let there be a Lunar tomato… and there was. We don’t just make empty promises.” Another little laugh shook the mare, before her tail twitched. She glanced back and the smile fell from her face. “Hmm, it seems I must take my leave,” she said quietly. “You just enjoy the show. We’ll see each other very-very soon,” she added with a sudden hint of edge in her voice.
Before Applejack could have even acknowledged her words, Pinkie quickly stepped back and disappeared through the door once more.
Applejack wondered for a little while what could have caused the sudden shift in Pinkie’s mood, but soon her focus shifted to the play. At that moment it reached its crescendo. The four ponies of each tribe sang a heartfelt song about how ponykind must put aside its differences and unite if it wants to thrive—except for those who chose the Solars’ side. Those ponies instead had to be chased out and persecuted wherever they were found. The song was so beautiful no eyes were left dry. Applejack herself struggled not to bawl out, while her sister and brother had no such reservations.
And so, hours later, when night fell and Applejack was ushered into a carriage instead of being allowed to go home with her family, she was still sniffling a little from all those pent up emotions, to the great surprise of the two grim unicorn guards she sat between, as their ride flew across the sky towards the Colonel’s home.