The negation, a subtle shadow gliding through the depths of the mind, was an act of resistance against the reality that surrounded them. It was the barricade erected by the soul to shield itself from uncomfortable truths, a dance between illusion and truth. Although often seen as an evasion strategy, negation could also be a temporary balm that cushioned the impact of harsh reality. However, this act of self-protection came at a cost: the distancing from authenticity and complicity with self-imposed lies. But, like waves crashing against the shore, negation eventually faded away, leaving behind fragments of shining truth that demanded recognition. It was a game of mirrors in which the mind, fearful of what it might uncover, chose to close its eyes to unwanted signs and realities.
Twilight chose to follow the same path. For her, closing her eyelids and plunging into darkness was preferable to facing the reality unfolding before her eyes. It was the first time in her intense life that she found herself without answers, unable to explain an event that, to her sharp intellect, completely lacked sense. She lost track of how many hours she spent engaged in recalling every book on realities and alternate worlds she had ever read, only to discover in the end that none offered a clue or explanation for what she was experiencing.
The tangle of memories that struck her upon her initial awakening was like gaps unknown to her memory. Thinking about it induced the worst headache any pony had ever felt. Nevertheless, when she managed to calm down, those flashes offered her a small hint that she was reliving a moment she remembered perfectly; however, the reality unfolding was completely different from what she believed had happened.
She remembered that old fragment with precision; on that day, she had forgotten to adhere to her sleep schedule to complete the drafting of her timetables. At that point in time, a disheveled and hurt version of herself emerged out of nowhere to warn her about an incident that would take place on a Tuesday. She always felt embarrassed recalling that event, as it turned out to be a mix-up between file searches and the vertigo of going crazy, only to discover that, in reality, there was no disaster.
The experience should have concluded in that way, but the new memories she now possessed completely disrupted that assumption. In them, she had stumbled upon a book of forbidden spells, one that promised glimpses into the future. Consumed by anxiety about what would happen the next Tuesday, she attempted to perform the spell, triggering a serious accident that nearly cost her life. It was a hard fact to digest, a truth that tied a knot in her stomach and defied all logic. That accident couldn't have led to a coma state making her believe she had lived an entirely different life, full of improbable events. So, the idea emerged in her that she was immersed in a false reality, created by someone with the intention of making her suffer. She began to suspect that her surroundings and all the ponies around her were mere replicas, distortions of what she once knew. Her initial instinct was to distrust, even going so far as to avoid eating for fear that something harmful had been added to her food.
But, days later, that choice ended up making her feel ridiculous. Reality was surprisingly vivid, and she found no anomalies; in fact, the days and months before the failed spell incident continued according to her old memories. In her "present," she didn't identify anyone with the ability to weave such a convincing reality, and thus her theories were dismissed. In that moment, she deeply regretted saying four foolish words when Princess Celestia visited her. She had the perfect opportunity to inquire more about what was happening, but she chose to ask the princess to leave her alone, as she didn't want to engage in conversation with anyone.
Her eyelids contracted for a second, as if her brain were throwing sarcastic words at her lack of cleverness in missing such an opportunity. It was ironic, considering she always boasted about thinking before acting, or at least trying her best. However, in that chaotic disorder, her mind was so deteriorated and confused that it was difficult for her to reflect thoroughly on each of her actions. Anyone spending several days with only four walls as reliable company would end up losing their sanity; even she was amazed at having retained some semblance of sanity throughout the time she was in the hospital room, facing chaotic and inexplicable events. Although she knew that more than sanity, what kept her going was a mixture of fear and curiosity.
As her body sank again onto the soft hospital mattress, she couldn't help but notice that fear was the only force that had confined every corner of her body and mind in the past few days. Despite the persistent migraine pounding her head like drills, nothing compared to the feeling of being lost and alone at that precise moment. A brief wave of emptiness flooded her chest as she recalled it; unconsciously, she pulled her hooves from under the sheets and placed them on herself, still feeling cold for some reason.
She had never experienced this feeling before, or perhaps, she had too many distractions in her life that prevented her from noticing it. She never stopped to think about what would happen if she had no one to trust, if she ever found herself alone with nothing and no certainty of receiving a genuine hug. She never considered that possibility because she had everything: friends, family, books, purposes, knowledge, commitment, and responsibilities. That was her true reality, one that did not require questioning. However, here she was, waking up and discovering that everything she ever believed to be real seemed to be just a dream, a product of her recklessness with a spell that plunged her into a coma.
Accepting that truth was like watching her most beloved books burn. It meant ceasing to be Twilight Sparkle to become a pathetic and neglected pony, covered in bandages, a unicorn without a horn and without magic. Contemplating this thought, her body shuddered, and her teeth clenched tightly around her lower lip, already bruised from the times she had bitten it while ignoring such a fact. She resisted accepting it. It couldn't be real. She couldn't have lost her magic or her horn, let alone find herself in a hospital with heartbreaking memories of such irresponsibility. It was unheard of, illogical, and absurd to think about. She couldn't have lost the one thing that defined her essence, the fundamental part of her life, and what connected her to her true self. Who was Twilight without magic? How could she be the connection to harmony if there were no magical traces in her?
No, definitely not. Twilight couldn't believe in such quick deductions. Perhaps, just maybe, someone had been lurking in the shadows all this time, planning to make her suffer and teleport her into a false reality, one that felt eerily real. Yes, that must be the true reason behind all this madness; otherwise, she would prefer to sleep for several more hours to avoid facing the miserable walls and curtains so inert in the hospital that caused her an intimidating sinking feeling.
She needed to find a way to escape the hospital and get answers to all this. The idea of going to Canterlot to talk to Celestia lingered in her mind, but she couldn't prevent her teeth from yielding to pressure, releasing her lower lip. It trembled, marked by nervous imprints, and she could feel the sharp pain in each mark left by her teeth, a tangible manifestation of the anxiety overwhelming her. The urgency to find answers intertwined with the palpable fear that made her hesitate.
A soft click echoed in the room, abruptly interrupting her thoughts. The creak of the door sliding across the hard floor tensed her entire body, every strand of her hair standing on end. Almost instinctively, her eyelids opened, allowing her eyes to once again meet the presence of the wall, unable to direct her gaze toward the door.
"Twi?"
The southern accent permeated the atmosphere, causing the unicorn's muscles to relax. Despite this, a part of herself resisted allowing her head to turn, perhaps because she had not yet grown accustomed to conversing with what she felt were exact reproductions of her true friends.
The brief silence, instead of bringing the solitude the unicorn expected, ended up being interrupted by the rhythmic sound of trotting. Each step resonated in the air, disrupting the stillness and marking a presence that challenged her sought-after tranquility. With the echo of the trot still reverberating, Applejack's voice emerged again in the scene, but this time tinged with a nuance of consideration.
"Ah reckon ya might not be in the mood for a good ol' chat or hangin' 'round folks right now. Ah understand that, but we're plum worried 'bout ya. Ya been actin' kinda peculiar lately, sugarcube." The farmer's voice, recognizable by her distinctive modulation, abruptly stopped, revealing a hesitation that puzzled her friend. "Well, I reckon I gotta let ya know that you've been discharged, and they let me be the one to look after ya. So, whatever's goin' on in that head of yours, you don't have to tackle it solo. But I need ya to say somethin', anything really, so it doesn't feel like a hitch in our understanding."
Twilight remained silent, carefully processing and analyzing the words. Her ears stood erect, picking up the soft and decipherable murmurs of the mare. Throughout her life, she had never employed the cold shoulder, as she was not that kind of disrespectful pony. However, unease overtook her as she realized her theory of clones was starting to crumble. The orange mare sounded surprisingly similar to the Applejack she knew, even felt familiar; in fact, she could sense a pleasant atmosphere solely with her presence. That unique feeling that only the real Applejack could evoke was impossible to replicate. Nervous at this revelation, she felt a heavy weight crushing her stomach, causing a slight dizziness to add to the persistent headache.
Feeling the intense gaze of the farmer did nothing to help her mental crisis. Immediately, a strong need to get up and draw the curtain to avoid being observed surged within her; however, she maintained composure and crossed both front hooves, attempting in vain to provide her own comfort. Aware that sooner or later, she had to face the situation, she understood that staying curled up in bed and ignoring the visits would not resolve anything amid this strange madness. She needed to find a coherent answer that wouldn't plunge her back into hyperventilation.
With the little strength left in her, she turned her head and met a penetrating green gaze. Unable to explain what she was experiencing, she could perceive how the air around her became dense as she meticulously examined the earth pony; her green pupils reflected fatigue and concern, while dark circles were evident under her eyes, and a few barely visible scratches decorated her loin. At that precise moment, all reflection and fear vanished from her mind; however, a moral slap hit her like a stab as she remembered that she had overlooked a crucial detail: this Applejack was the one who risked herself to rescue her in the midst of the fire. An intense wave of shame engulfed her, evident in the subtle blush on both of her cheeks. She couldn't afford to act ungrateful, even without being sure if this was the authentic Applejack.
Maintaining her gaze on the farmer, Twilight swallowed with difficulty, eliminating any trace of doubt. Then, she cleared her throat weakly and allowed her lips to move to speak:
"There's no need to worry, AJ," she began, taking a brief pause to carefully choose her words, avoiding revealing the full complexity of her thoughts. The expectant look from her supposed friend seemed to invite her to continue, so, after analyzing her response in more detail, she went on. "I'm just... you know, trying to process all of this. I didn't want to talk to you all because I tend to appear very neglectful when I'm in my low moments, so I just needed some time to reflect, nothing more. As for the other thing, I have no issue at all; on the contrary, I'm grateful to know it's you offering to take care of me. I wouldn't find another pony who gives me the same sense of security that you achieve."
Despite the sincerity in her response, Twilight felt uneasy about the lack of emotional richness in her words. Not that she could complain. The scenario she was in still felt unreal to her, even though it seemed so real that her common sense scolded her for not accepting it. Therefore, it was better to be cautious and avoid upsetting others' emotions. When several agonizing minutes passed, and a gentle smile formed on Applejack's lips, it was a signal of relief for her, who was still struggling to control her nerves.
"Well shoot, Twi! Ya don't gotta be all sentimental and soft like applesauce," exclaimed the orange mare with a genuine smile, relaxing and adopting a posture that marked a stark contrast with the concerned expression she had shown earlier. "Knowin' that ya trust me that way makes me feel honored. Ah'm here for ya, always. 'Bout yer low moments, we all have 'em. We ain't perfect, but that don't make us any less valuable to our friends. Ah understand that everyone deals with things in their own way. Ah've always believed that we're here to support each other, even when things get tough. Even though ya lost yer horn and magic, yer still the same Twilight Sparkle to us."
The tremor in Twilight's lip was visible, though she tried to conceal it behind a half-smile. She felt a growing unease as she increasingly sensed the authentic essence of Applejack in that mare. "I..." she hesitated, struggling to avoid any hint of stuttering as her words sought the right path. "I wanted to thank you."
The orange mare remained watching her, a faint glimmer of confusion appearing in her eyes. "What in tarnation are ya thankin' me for, sugarcube?" she asked candidly, trying to understand what was going through her friend's mind. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, and her relaxed posture now showed hints of genuine concern. "Ah ain't exactly reckonin' what yer gettin' at. Did Ah overlook somethin'?"
Twilight shook her head. "No. I just wanted to thank you for rescuing me. I've been very unfair to you in these past few days. I shouldn't have ignored you when you risked your life to save me from a fire I caused myself," she admitted with regret in her voice, as her gaze shifted slightly, revealing a hint of remorse.
Applejack, upon hearing the words, lowered her gaze for a moment, taking in the sincerity of the unicorn. Then, she brought one of her hoofs to her hat, tilting it a bit on her forehead, while a friendly smile illuminated her face.
"Twilight, ya don't gotta go 'round thankin' or dancin' 'round the issue. Ain't no need to be so tough on yerself. We're here to back each other up, ya hear?" she said with reassuring warmth. Lowering her hat, she showed a compassionate expression. "Ya see, sometimes things jest slip through our hooves, but that don't change what really matters: that we're here for our friends when they need us. Ah know that when the sun sets and the day winds down, you'd do the same for me."
Like a restless worm, Twilight shifted uncomfortably in her place. Unable to find a position that brought her comfort, she allowed her body to rise from the bed until she ended up sitting. The familiarity emanating from this Applejack plunged her into a sensation that she found difficult to handle.
"You're right, Aj. Very right," she responded, letting out a nervous laugh before clumsily meeting the gaze of the earth pony. "If it's not too much trouble to interrupt you, I'd like to know when we're leaving. This place gives me the creeps," she expressed. She wasn't entirely wrong; spending too much time in the hospital was affecting her sanity, and she truly longed to get out of that site.
The gaze she received from her supposed friend was like an emotional scanner, making it challenging for Twilight to stay calm. The farmer approached with a short and calm trot; her eyes retained that friendly gleam that had always characterized Applejack, a detail that couldn't dispel the unicorn's unease.
"Sugarcube, don't you worry none. Ah understand ya wanna skedaddle from here." she said with a gentle voice, delicately placing a hoof on her friend's shoulder as a gesture of support. In response, the downcast Sparkle let out a faint sigh. "We're headin' out now. Just hold yer pigs for a sec. Ah'll fetch a couple o' things and come back 'round to pick ya up, ya hear?" she said, without waiting for a response, spun around, heading towards the door. Before leaving, she exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Twilight. "But don'tcha worry, Ah'll be back in a jiffy. And when Ah mosey on back, we'll get outta this here dump at Apple speed. Y'all'll see!"
In spite of her attempts to formulate a response or at least react, Twilight remained motionless until the figure of the orange mare faded behind the door. A welcoming silence filled the space for several minutes, and at that moment, she wished for a book on relaxation techniques, feeling that her emotions were intensifying. Finally, she decided to sink back onto the bed; the impact of her back against the soft mattress caused slight discomfort, which she chose to ignore. Her eyes remained fixed on the wall, although she didn't really see anything. The tsunami of uncertainty collapsing her mind prevented her from staying grounded. She considered that perhaps in the upcoming events, she would find answers and it would be easier to control her reality crisis.
Although she had expectations, Applejack's return did not provide the calmness Twilight hoped for. Instead of being greeted with the desired comfort, Twilight found herself wrapped in a blanket as she was uncomfortably escorted out of the hospital. The sensation of the blanket was not comforting but rather a tangible reminder of her situation. The long and silent journey to Sweet Apple Acres only intensified this discomfort. Not only was she facing the physical challenge of recovery, but she also dealt with the emotional discomfort of being handled with extreme care, as if she were fragile and brittle. This perception did not align with her own inner strength, and the overly cautious treatment was unpleasant.
However, none of these feelings reached the intensity of the disturbing sensation that filtered through her spine as her eyes began to explore the surrounding landscape. From the heart of Ponyville, with its vibrant and varied Central Square, to the road leading to Sweet Apple Acres, every quaint shop, colorful house, and iconic location were perfectly intact. Not a single detail was missing; everything resonated with an almost eerie familiarity. This was the pure essence of Ponyville, a vivid reproduction of her memories. She couldn't find any point of failure in the representation, but that certainty didn't eliminate the slight shiver running through her body. Despite the temptation to succumb to restlessness, she held back the force and allowed her hooves to move forward, although the contact with the ground did not provide the desired reassurance. Her silence persisted throughout the journey, even in the face of Applejack's intense gaze and the fear echoing in her gut.
Finally, after a wait that extended beyond what Twilight would have wished for, they arrived at Sweet Apple Acres. Anxiety surged in her throat like an uncomfortable mass, and she struggled to swallow the knot of nerves closing her pharynx. The farm manifested before her with unsettling clarity; every detail, from the majestic apple trees to the penetrating smell of fresh earth, came to life before her eyes. A disturbing sense of realism took hold of her, choking her dwindling sanity. Her trots through the estate were an unsteady dance, the constant and irregular beat of her heart threatening to make her lose her composure, plunging her into a kind of emotional turmoil.
Upon reaching the door of the Apple family's home, Applejack carefully placed a hoof on her disoriented friend's back, a gesture that immediately tensed the muscles of the latter. The cold surface of the farmer's hoof clashed against Twilight's fur, who, despite being covered with a blanket, experienced another shiver that raced swiftly down her spine.
"Sugar cube, take it easy now. We done made it safe and sound to Sweet Apple Acres. Ain't no need to be chewin' on them lips like that; I reckon from my own experience that it don't do much for easin' worries. Let me handle things 'round here. You're in good hooves."
Upon hearing those words, Twilight's features tightened, and her nose wrinkled in a gesture of confusion. The revelation that she was biting her lips caught her off guard; in the sway of emotions, she didn't even know when her teeth sank into her lips. As she slowly released the pressure from her lower lip, she looked up at Applejack's understanding expression. Somehow, she struggled to accept that this pony, with her solid presence, could convey security amid her own turbulence.
A faint and gentle smile appeared on Twilight's lips, a fragile yet genuine response to the offered understanding. Gathering the strength she needed, she whispered, "Can we go inside?"
"Shucks, Twi! Ain't no need to be in such a dern hurry," Applejack said with a laugh, placing her hoof carefully on the door before pressing the thin wood, causing it to open with a soft creak. "Git on in. Today was the Apple family's day off; Ah reckon everyone's snoozin' like bears in hibernation."
"Well... thanks for the information, I guess," sighed Twilight as the earth pony entered the rustic dwelling. A subtle shiver accompanied her exhale. Unease persisted in her chest as she felt this mare could be the real Applejack. Slowly shaking her head, she tried to dispel that intrusive thought. Even if the world were falling apart around her, she couldn't afford to lose the last anchor keeping her sane. She moved toward the doorway, each step feeling like a dance on hot coals. Despite the pain reverberating through her body, she chose to silence the complaints. Comfort remained elusive in the midst of the strange situation.
"Ya gotta watch yer step, sugarcube. Don't go gallopin' too quick."
There was a hint of sweetness and trust in Applejack's voice that urged Twilight to moderate the pace of her trot as she entered the house. Immediately, Twilight's ears flattened, barely grazing the bandage wrapped around her head. If the scent of apples and wood was faintly perceptible before, it now overflowed with intensity, completely filling her nostrils. A slight irritation brushed her lashes as her eyes began to explore every corner of Applejack's home; the walls, photos, sturdy furniture, and decorations. The place emanated a warm glow, illuminated by the soft moonlight filtered through red curtains adorned with checkered patterns. Solid wooden furniture and rustic details were arranged with order and purpose, with paintings and farm tools hanging proudly on the cream-colored, worn walls. While the round orange-toned carpet where Applejack stood seemed to capture attention, the staircase on the left gained importance, extending upward correctly.
While Twilight was familiar with Applejack's house, she had never stopped to observe the details closely. However, at that moment, she couldn't help but recognize how the essence of the farm and apples, so characteristic of the orange mare, permeated every corner of the place. Unconsciously, her hooves moved toward the kitchen, causing a soft creak of the wood beneath her. It was not surprising that most ponies described Sweet Apple Acres as a familiar and welcoming space. Even she was beginning to feel the sweet atmosphere of peace that only the Apple family's home could offer, making her forget the concerns that had haunted her earlier, if only for a few brief minutes.
"Take a seat, Twi. Ah'm gonna rustle up somethin' for ya to munch on," echoed Applejack's determined voice, accompanied by the characteristic drag of a chair against the floor.
Twilight halted her exploration of the books near the countertop and shot a quick glance at the orange mare, blinking at the suggestion. Two seconds were enough for an expression of indifference to form on her face. "I'm not hungry, but thanks anyway."
Applejack furrowed her brow, leaning against the countertop with her legs crossed. "Twilight, don't go feedin' me that malarkey. Ah know you've been cooped up in that hospital for days on end, neglectin' yer stomach like a critter in a dry pasture. Ya gotta fill up that belly and get yer strength back."
The unicorn sighed, vulnerable. "I haven't had much of an appetite lately. I've been worried about several things."
"Sugarcube, ah reckon ah get that ya been through some rough patches, but that don't mean ya gotta go ignorin' yer health. Ya gotta put some vittles in yer belly, ya hear?" insisted Applejack, turning to open the cupboard above her, ready to take out the materials and ingredients needed for cooking.
Biting the inside of her cheek, Twilight hesitated. She couldn't find the will to eat; hunger had faded since she woke up to face her new reality. "I appreciate it, Applejack, but I'm just not hungry. I'm fine."
Applejack, with a hint of barely noticeable frustration, turned her head toward Twilight, still with her hoof in the cupboard. "Twilight Sparkle," she uttered in a firm tone that made her friend shudder. "I tell ya straight. Ya ain't been eatin' right, and that's a fact. Ah'm fixin' ya somethin' light, but ya gotta put somethin' in that belly of yours. Ain't no room for arguin' 'round. So come on, plop yourself down, and wait for the vittles to be ready."
An intense warmth invaded Twilight's cheeks, tinting them with a vibrant crimson hue. Although she felt a strong inclination to protest, especially being treated like a newborn foal throwing a tantrum, she decided to hold back her lips and let it slide. Despite having the right to complain after everything she had experienced in such a short time, she knew it wasn't the right moment to make a scene. Applejack seemed determined to achieve her goal, and she didn't have the energy to prolong the discussion. Without much thought, she tried to suppress her emotions and made her way to the table, ignoring the slight pain in her hooves. Midway, the blanket wrapped around her slid down slowly, but she didn't pay much attention to it. While Applejack returned to the cooking task, the unicorn managed to sit awkwardly in the first chair she found, maintaining a prudent distance from the farmer.
"Applejack? Ya back? Heard some ruckus comin' from 'round these parts."
In an unexpected echo, a deep and masculine voice filled the room, catching both mares by surprise. Twilight, lost in her thoughts, jolted instantly. The unexpected sound resonated within her, and her eyes widened. The blanket that enveloped her, a silent witness to her attempt to contain her emotions, slid from the top of her hooves down to the floor. Surprise reflected in her pupils as, guided by a sudden instinct, she turned her head, facing the source of that new Southern tone. There, near the stairs, stood a tall red stallion, with a disheveled mane and a weary expression that revealed his recent rest. Big Macintosh's sudden appearance triggered another uncomfortable wave in Twilight, who, swallowing hard, lowered her gaze to the ground. Surprises were piling up, and her fatigued mind couldn't handle more elements in her quest for answers.
Applejack directed her gaze to her brother with a friendly smile, releasing a warm laugh. "Ah just got back a few minutes ago, Big Mac. Twi's gonna stay here 'til she can fully recover," she said with assurance, hoping to dispel any concerns that might cross her brother's mind. "Well, Ah sure hope that's mighty fine with ya. We just wanna make dang sure she gets back on her hooves all the way."
"No problem, AJ. Ah'm okay with it."" Big Macintosh replied in a calm tone. Then, his eyes, filled with curiosity, focused on the tense unicorn, who shrank slightly under the gaze. "I hope ya feel comfy and can bounce back soon, Miss Sparkle. Mah sister's a stubborn one, but she's got good intentions." he added, revealing a mix of humor and support in his voice.
Immediately, Twilight's eyelids tightened, although her head remained lowered. Nevertheless, she managed a half-smile. "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," she murmured, releasing a nervous laugh afterward. The irony of feeling anything but comfortable made that laughter more for herself than a response to the present nerves.
"Well now, Big Mac, ya gotta excuse Twilight's silence. After all that hullabaloo, she's plum worn out. Exhaustion's got her actin' all shy, like Fluttershy in the middle of a lightning storm." Applejack let out a friendly laugh, trying to lighten the mood with her characteristic playful touch.
The stallion looked at his sister and chuckled, his laugh deep but with a slight touch of humor. "Eeyup. Ah may not talk much, but Ah can recognize when someone's more worn out than a tractor in harvest season."
Both of Twilight's eyebrows raised as her face took on an offended and incredulous expression. She longed to respond with the irritation that invaded her for not understanding the wordplay with a rural twist, but she restrained herself. The comparison with Fluttershy took her by surprise; the pegasus was entirely the opposite of her. She imagined Fluttershy in her place, facing the madness she had experienced upon waking up, and a faint smile escaped her at the thought of the shy pegasus hiding in her pink mane. Interestingly, she found it somewhat pleasant to witness the conversational dynamic between the two siblings. It wasn't a new detail, but it was something she had stopped witnessing since ascending to the throne. Nostalgia flattened her ears as she reflected on the moments that had faded from her routine or simply been lost in occupying the position of monarch. Although she didn't know if these ponies were the same ones she knew or if this reality was genuine, she couldn't help but feel a longing for those little details.
Letting out a yawn, Big Macintosh stretched slightly before commenting, "Speak'n of busted tractors, I'm plum tuckered out. Reckon it's time to hit the hay. Wishin' ya a good night." With a nod in farewell, he turned around and started ascending the stairs, marking the end of his participation in the conversation.
Applejack, busy placing toast on a plate, replied, "Rest, Big Mac."
The red stallion disappeared from the scene, but that didn't calm Twilight's heightened emotions. Dozens of unanswered questions accumulated in her weary mind, while the persistent migraine attempted to disturb her peace. Confusion reigned, along with a myriad of inscrutable feelings, creating an impulse for her to get up from the chair and escape. She didn't see herself as a pony of bad manners, except for moments of frustration with failed spells or when she tried to advise Flurry Heart during her rebellious curiosity phase. Excluding those episodes, she didn't consider herself an alicorn with inappropriate behavior. However, waking up with her horn removed and facing a reality where everything she experienced seemed like a dream generated increasing anxiety. She was even starting to become scared of feeling both well and uncomfortable at the same time. Not an encouraging sign. She needed to find a way out and talk to the supposed Celestia, or perhaps Spike. The only certainty she had was that, in her fragile state and devoid of magic, her options were limited. In fact, the mere thought caused an itch that she had to ignore due to the bandage.
Before embarking on the task of devising an escape plan, a plate suddenly appeared before her, cutting off her thoughts. Her hind legs straightened automatically, but her expression twisted in a frown loaded with confusion and bewilderment as she discovered a fried egg next to two toasts spread with apple butter.
"Well, sugarcube, ah reckon it's an Apple-style dish! A mighty fine fried egg and some apple butter spread on them toasts, that's just what'll get yer strength back. Don'tcha reckon so?"
Twilight examined the peculiar dish in front of her; a dubious gleam reflected the confusion in her eyes as she processed the unusual combination. After a few seconds, she looked up at Applejack, her expression clearly conveying that the idea of savoring that mixture was unappealing to her.
"I appreciate your gesture, but I really don't have an appetite right now."
Noticing the lack of enthusiasm in her friend, Applejack's initial smile faded, and she let out a sigh, revealing her disappointment. "Sugarcube, ah understand ya're in a tough spot, but ya need energy to face whatever's ahead. Please, at least give it a try." she pleaded with a gentle tone, a nuance that sounded more like a desperate plea.
Twilight parted her lips but quickly sealed them shut. In the brief silence that ensued, she took the time to reflect before releasing with resignation, "...Alright, I guess," she said, placing one of her hooves on the table. Then, she huffed determinedly. "But first, I need to talk to Princess Celestia or Spike."
Applejack remained incredulous at Twilight's request. "Ah, Twi, it just ain't possible. Princess Celestia's all caught up in them Canterlot matters, and shoot, it's way too late to be goin' lookin' for Spike now." she explained with a realistic tone, then furrowed her brows in a mix of suspicion and confusion. "Why didn't ya have a chat with Celestia when she swung by the hospital to see ya? Seems like it would've been the perfect moment to tackle this matter, don't ya reckon?"
Fear was evident in Twilight's eyes, yet she attempted to conceal it by awkwardly shifting her gaze. She knew that any misstep or half-truth would be detected by Applejack. Uncertain if this pony was the real Applejack, she decided not to take the risk.
Without hesitation, she cleared her throat and uttered the first words that came to mind. "I wasn't fully aware of myself, but now I am. I remembered that there's an issue I need to clarify. So, please, if I can't reach Celestia right now, at least inform Spike that I need to talk to him."
"Uh... What?" The farmer's eyebrows furrowed, and the incredulous spark continued to flicker in her green eyes. "Ah, sugarcube, this here situation's already feelin' like a run against the clock, but truth be told, it's done gone too late. Spike's probably snoozin' over at Rarity's by now. Don't rightly know what's got ya in such a tizzy, but you best put it outta your mind for a spell and grab a bite. You need some vittles to fuel up." she said with her characteristic frankness, attempting to dissuade her from her insistence.
Twilight pressed her lips together, her gaze returning to the earth pony, this time with a gleam that conveyed urgency. "I understand, Applejack, but I really need to clarify that matter. I want to talk to Spike, regardless of the hour. If he's sleeping, I'll wake him up. But please, help me get in touch with him."
Applejack remained silent, her eyes fixed on the unicorn, assessing the urgency in her eyes. Finally, she sighed resignedly. "Well, let's strike a deal. Chow down yer grub right now, and I promise on my hoof mornin' I'll rustle up Spike and bring him over so y'all can have a good ol' chat."
With a pensive gesture, Twilight dropped her gaze to the hoof resting on the table. There were no tremors or abrupt movements, just a silence that lingered briefly before her expression softened. Almost under her breath but with undisturbed kindness in her voice, she muttered, "Alright, alright." This act brought a smile to Applejack's face. "I'll eat."
"Ya want me to lend help, or reckon you'd rather handle it on yer own?"
"No, no. I can handle it on my own," she responded firmly; however, a shadow of doubt settled in her eyes as she looked at the plate. The idea of using her hooves to grab something was unfamiliar to her, as her horn's magic had always been sufficient and more practical. But in that moment, lacking magic, she felt like a foal taking its first steps. With determination, she gathered courage and brought her two front hooves to the edges of the plate, ready to bring it closer to demonstrate her ability. Nevertheless, in just two seconds, her gripping attempt ended in failure, and her hooves slid. She persisted, trying several times, but the same result confronted her over and over.
Applejack observed with growing concern all of her friend's attempts. Noticing her obvious weakness, she couldn't contain her worry. "Shucks, Twilight! Ah reckon I get yer need to tackle things solo, but ya ain't exactly in top-notch condition, and sans yer magic, snatchin' stuff is gonna be a bit of a hurdle. Why don'tcha let me lend a hoof? Ain't no shame in askin' for help, and the last thing I aim for is watchin' ya wrestlin' unnecessarily."
"Applejack, you've already done more than enough. Let me handle this. I know I can," she insisted, trying once again, albeit in vain, to bring the plate closer. As the ruler of Equestria, she couldn't afford to give up on such a simple task. She understood that by resolving this quickly, she could go to bed earlier, and morning would come sooner. With that, she could talk to Spike and find the answers she sought more promptly.
"Twi...".
"Trust me."
After half an hour had passed, the simple task of holding the plate and proving to the supposed Applejack that she could manage on her own turned into a complete source of frustration. Each of the countless attempts to hold the fragile porcelain plate resulted in a resounding failure. She felt exhausted, helpless, and deeply embarrassed. Finally, she succumbed to defeat and chose to take a piece of toast in her mouth, place it on her hoof, and eat it, ignoring the repeated offers of help from the farmer. In a corner of her consciousness, Twilight experienced profound self-criticism for her behavior; she even felt a knot in her stomach when she noticed the sad and guilty look on the orange mare's face. Nevertheless, there wasn't much she could do. The days since she woke up had disrupted her and brought her to a point where she no longer knew what to hold onto.
She faced that same self-criticism as Applejack silently guided her, assisting her in climbing the stairs to her room. Her heart weighed so heavily that the headaches and body pains faded into the background. It was inevitable to acknowledge the overwhelming guilt, especially when the mare, without argument and only to ensure her well-being, gave up her bed, choosing to sleep in a sleeping bag. Applejack seemed not to mind, breaking the silence only to wish her good night before turning in the opposite direction to sleep. Instead of instilling calmness, this fueled a small voice in Twilight's head, reproaching her for not acting like herself. She had never shown such coldness, not even in her darkest days. It wasn't fair. It was an unknown reality for her. A reality that had to be a sham. Those ponies couldn't be real. She couldn't accept the situation, and yet she remained awake, staring at the ceiling, immersed in regret for her actions and for dismissing the possibility that this pony could be the real Applejack.