“I win!”
Rainbow Dash’s declaration barely preceded her. The pegasus slammed the front door open so hard that the little bell above the doorway fell off. Applejack’s jaw hung open, the next words she meant to say now caught in her throat.
“No—no fair!” came Spike’s voice not two seconds later, the little dragon breathing heavily as he zipped over the threshold only to collapse on the floor trying to catch his breath. “That’s—huff—that’s cheating. If Twilight teleported us, we’d win!”
“Hey, if it’s a no wings contest, you say that before we start.” Dash grinned, hopping over the fallen dragon to collect the silver bell, hovering up to reattach it.
“And you’ll leave me out of it, thank you very much,” Twilight said as she trotted inside. “Oh. Hey guys. Sorry we’re early.”
“Hi! Welcome!” Pinkie replied. She finally let go of Applejack, who had almost forgotten they were entangled until she felt the rush of cold air in Pinkie’s absence. She shook her head. Of course it would be cold. The door was wide open, after all. She was just about to ask them to close it when Fluttershy and Rarity entered as well.
“Hullo girls,” Rarity said, lifting her chin up and setting her magic to work freeing herself from her scarf and hat.
“Hello,” Fluttershy echoed, the final entrant pulling the door shut in her wake.
“Yeah, hi,” Applejack finally managed, biting the inside of her cheek. Already Pinkie Pie trotted over to meet, greet and hug her guests—or was it their guests? Rarity sought Applejack’s eyes and offered a brief smile.
“Wow. Did you do all of this? This looks great,” Spike said, the first to work his way free of the group to trot inside the main room proper. At his words, the chatter from the others died down in favor of little oohs and aahs. Rainbow Dash took wing again, flying up among the rafters.
It wasn’t exactly the same sense of pride that came with applebuck season done and over with, but Applejack smiled and moved closer as the others took in Pinkie, Applejack and the Cakes’ handiwork. Snow-white spray decorated the goods displays along the walls, white and midnight-blue balloons strained against their bonds, and decorative stars hung from the ceiling to give the room a winter’s night theme. In one corner, Pinkie had set up a seating area with seven comfortable cushions around a low table, a firefly lantern in the middle serving as a campfire.
Pinkie nodded vigorously. “That was all me, and all Applejack, and Mr. and Mrs. Cake! Isn’t it great? It’s all winter-y and cozy, and you can even eat the shiny blue stars if you want!”
Applejack blinked, as this was certainly news to her. Rainbow Dash leaned close to one of the glossy ornaments and sniffed it, poking it with a hoof.
“Uh. No you can’t,” Applejack said. “I brought those. They’re from our Hearth’s Warming ornament box. They go on the tree.”
“Oh. Oops. I already ate two.” Pinkie giggled and hopped from the group over to the snack table. “Well, there’s plenty of other things to eat! Crisps, cake, cupcakes, chocolate rolls—”
“And what appears to be a large bowl of assorted kitchen utensils.” Rarity leaned a little closer. “Is this some new thing from Prance?”
“No, that’s Applejack’s idea. I have no idea why, but I think it looks really pretty right there.” Pinkie beamed. “Like a vase without flowers, but pizza cutters and spoons instead!”
“Right. Had my head in the clouds for a bit,” Applejack muttered. “Hey, why don’t we get this party started, huh?”
Pinkie wasted exactly no time in darting over to the gramophone, squinting with ferocious concentration while she adjusted the volume up. Then, after a glance up at the stairs that led to the second floor, turned it down again just a little bit. She bounced on the spot and turned around, grinning wide.
“Come on, let’s shake it!” she declared. Spike zipped over to the snack table right away, and Rainbow Dash tried to be subtle about the way she gave the hanging ornaments just the tiniest of licks. Applejack held her breath and waited for the others to spread out, praying they would act normal. It was too late now, and she found herself hoping they’d keep her betrayal.
“What’s wrong?”
Applejack stiffened up and nearly swallowed her tongue. If she felt any relief when she noticed it wasn’t her being addressed by Pinkie, it was gone when she spotted Pinkie advancing on Fluttershy over by the door. Twilight and Rarity were over by the low table, but Fluttershy hadn’t moved an inch. Applejack stared in abject horror.
“I—um. Nothing,” Fluttershy stammered.
“Nuh-uh!” Pinkie said, frowning. “You usually always go for half a muffin, and then you head to sit for a little bit before you join us in dancing or whatever else we do. I mean, not that I watch you all the time every party. Well. Okay, maybe I do.” She giggled and tilted her head. “You okay, Fluttershy?”
“Oh, yes,” Fluttershy said, scuffing the ground. “I am okay, but—”
Applejack trotted over, putting a leg around Pinkie’s neck whilst grinning as broad as she could. It felt like her face would split in two. “Ah, don’t mind her. She’s probably just brewing on a little cold on account of all the snow and all, and the poor thing doesn’t want to be a bother. You know Fluttershy!” Applejack nudged Pinkie in the ribs. Fluttershy didn’t even have time to react before Pinkie was upon her.
“Oh my gosh! We have to get you warm and well enough so you can have snowball fights with us this weekend!” Pinkie gasped, galloping straight across the room to root around in a cupboard and returning inside of a second. She tossed a blanket over Fluttershy’s back, and then another, ushering the softly protesting pony towards the seating area.
“Come! We should go sit around the campfire to warm up! Well, it’s not really a fire, but you know that. The only fire we have here is in the kitchen, and that’s only when I forget—”
Applejack wiped her brow and let out a sigh of relief. It was a quarter to four. The party hadn’t even started, and already she could feel her hairs graying.
“I think I’ll be okay. Really,” Fluttershy said, trying for the fourth time to wiggle out from under her blankets. It was made a little more difficult by the cramped space around the low table, and practically impossible by Pinkie Pie’s ministrations.
“Nuh-uh!” Pinkie said, leaning over to bite down on the blankets, pulling them back up until they were snug around the pegasus’ form again, ending it with a nuzzle. “We need you back to one-hundred and ten percent by the weekend!”
“You shouldn’t say that,” Spike said, shooting a glance Twilight’s way while munching on a donut. “Last time I said something was over a hundred percent, I got a long lecture on how that’s impossible.”
“Oh please. I understand exaggerating for effect just fine, and it’s not always impossible, but you said that you wanted over one hundred percent rubies in your gemstone cereal.” Twilight rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Sure it does, it just means he wants more gems,” Dash shrugged.
“Fhee’?” Spike said, mouth full of donut. Rarity winced and scooted a little closer to Pinkie Pie to escape the spray.
“Percentages are so last year anyway,” Pinkie giggled. “I think this party has been at least nine eighths fantastic!”
Twilight’s left eye twitched.
“It’s been lovely,” Fluttershy agreed. “You did a wonderful job with the decorations.” She smiled at Pinkie Pie and Applejack both in turn.
“Aw. You always say that,” Pinkie said, bouncing in her seat.
“Perhaps because it’s always true?” Rarity replied matter-of-factly. “Regardless, I must agree, even for you, you’ve really outdone yourself on the theme this time.”
“That’s just because I wanted this to be the best party yet,” Pinkie replied. She bit her lower lip and cast her eyes skywards—or ceilingward, as was the case.
“You say that every time too,” Dash said.
“Well, that’s because this time, it’s really true!” Pinkie said, perking up again.
“You say that every—ah, forget it.” Dash’s snort triggered a burst of laughter, and Applejack grinned when she saw Fluttershy take advantage of Pinkie Pie being distracted to slip out of her covers. The pegasus sighed in relief and wiped her brow.
At some point, she’d stopped worrying. Sure enough, there had been a few hiccups along the road; Twilight kept asking Pinkie Pie how she was, and Rarity looked like she really wanted to say or ask something, but those things had passed from concerns to background noise. Somewhere along the line, Applejack had ceased worrying about all of her friends, about Pinkie Pie’s reactions, and about trying to watch everything that had happened. She’d wandered from her post at the snack table into the thick of it, and time had disappeared.
There had been dancing, laughter, and more than one round of pin the tail of the pony, the crowning moment being when Rainbow Dash quietly opened the front door and pointed Pinkie straight towards it, ending with a very snowy Pinkie Pie and a lot of giggles. Now, they all sat crowded around the small table, and with the lights dimmed, it truly looked like they were outside—so long as you didn’t look too closely, or questioned the presence of the snack table.
“Hey, anypony for another round of games?” Pinkie asked.
“I don’t know, I should probably go grab a nap or something,” Dash said, leaning back to try to grab a peek out a window. There was precious little to see except darkness. “I’m getting kinda tired.”
“That, or you’re just mighty sore you got beat last round of Mistress of the Mountain,” Applejack said. She didn’t even try to hold back the grin.
Dash scowled. “Hey, next time we’re playing, we’re having a bet, and when I win, I want one of the cider bottles I know you’re hiding.”
“I ain’t hiding them, they’re private reserves for the Apple family. Besides, what d’you have that I want?” Applejack rolled her eyes, rising to stand and stretch her legs. All around the table, the others did the same. As sad as it was to say goodbye, Rainbow Dash had a point. It was getting late.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not losing again.”
“Right.” Applejack snickered, trotting alongside the others towards the door. Spike must’ve fallen asleep at some point, judging by the way Twilight had put him face down on her back, and back over by the table, Applejack spotted Pinkie Pie trying to put a blanket around Fluttershy by way of an impromptu cloak. Fluttershy shook her head, speaking too softly for Applejack to hear, but Pinkie Pie would hear none of it, unceremoniously pushing Fluttershy towards the door wearing a polka-dotted cover.
“Thank you guys so much for coming!” Pinkie Pie said. “I had a great time. I guess I’ll see you all at Rainbow Dash’s picnic party winter snowball fight thing?”
“Well, I do hope we will speak before then, but certainly,” Rarity said, leaning over for a quick hug. “Until then!”
“Take care, Pinkie Pie,” Twilight said, nuzzling the earth mare before trotting off.
“Later!” Dash called, soon after followed by Fluttershy’s ‘good night.’
Applejack said nothing, herself. Beyond the door, her friends trotted in the same general direction, but rather than follow, she stayed put with Pinkie Pie. She knew she should offer to stay and clean up. Now that she’d helped set up the mess in the first place, she felt responsible. Besides, it would provide the perfect opportunity to tell the truth. It was just terribly hard to decide whether that was an argument for or against staying.
“So, d’you wanna help me clean stuff up?” asked Pinkie Pie as if she could read her mind. It was a question Applejack couldn’t ever remember being asked before.
“Yeah. Sure,” Applejack said. The second she’d spoken, she knew it had been the right thing to do. Reluctance warred with relief, but it was infinitely preferable to accepting she could live with a lie.
Pinkie was already over by the snack table. A single cupcake was left, along with one or two of each of the other treats, rounded off by a half-eaten doughnut on the corner table. Pinkie Pie meticulously slid the snacks from each plate onto the biggest one. It was almost absurd to see Pinkie doing something so mundane by hoof and snout alone when she’d always thought perhaps the pink mare hid a horn in her mane with which to cast her party-cleanup spell.
“I told’em.”
It really was that simple. Something came loose, and Applejack breathed a sigh of relief. For how long had she been carrying that tension in her neck?
Pinkie Pie said nothing. She glanced over at Applejack, tilted her head quizzically, and reapplied herself. All the remaining food gathered on one tray, she hopped up to land on the table almost without a sound. Applejack waited for a reply, watching Pinkie stretch up on two hooves to pluck down one of the ornamental stars. She looked so very different in the faint light, the music long since silent. There were a million things that were just so exquisitely Pinkie Pie, and the way she balanced up to reach the rafters like it was nothing, that was one of those things.
One of many things about her friend she hardly deserved until she made her understand. “I told them what the party was for. What it was really for. Fluttershy, Twilight, Rarity and Rainbow Dash. I’m sorry.” Applejack held her breath. Waited for something to fill the void of her release.
Again, Pinkie Pie gave her a look that said nothing. A glance and a smile. When she’d plucked a few of the stars from the sky, she hopped down from the table and bit down on the snack tray. Applejack chewed her tongue and waited, watched while she trotted over to corner table. Pinkie placed the near-empty crisp bowl onto the tray with the snacks and left it there. The fireflies of her lamp were nearly all asleep, and the light was faint.
“Oh,” she finally said. In her high-pitched voice lacked none of the usual mirth and lilt. “I guess that explains why Fluttershy kept saying she was sorry and then apologising for nothing at all when I asked what she meant, huh?”
“Yeah, probably,” Applejack said. One of her knees itched. She scratched it back.
“And it’s why Twilight grabbed me when I was heading to the little fillies room and told me that one story about the time her grandfather passed away!”
“Uh, I guess.”
“And that totally explains why Dash was even more dasharrific than usual, but kept looking at me when she didn’t think I was looking, and Rarity, why—”
Applejack hung her head. “Right. I get it. You knew, huh?”
“I kinda noticed,” Pinkie giggled. She nosed a few of the cushions together, and after a moment’s deliberation, put them atop one another, perching on top of a tower of cushions. “Hey, I don’t know about you, but I could totally go for another cupcake! You want one?”
Applejack gave a weak chuckle and looked away, but there wasn’t a whole lot else to see. The other lamps were dark, and the windows reported nothing but black. The world was reduced to Pinkie Pie with her island of sugary goods, and Applejack in shadow. “I don’t think so. I best get going, you know?”
Pinkie pouted and sank down on her little throne, stretching one foreleg as far as it would go but failing to reach the tray she’d put at the centre of the table. “Aw, but you have to help. I really want a cupcake! The one in the middle with the blue cream!”
She meant to protest. She really did. Applejack thought up variations on no, a comment on how silly Pinkie was being, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to speak any of them. Few were the moments when the staunch earth mare lacked in confidence, but being caught out so completely sure helped.
“Alrighty then,” Applejack muttered, but try as though she might, a smile lurked at the corner of her muzzle. There was something delightful about the ridiculousness of the whole situation. Pinkie Pie kept wriggling and stretching, making a big show of failing to reach the pastry tray, all until Applejack finally sat down at her side. When Applejack pulled the tray closer, Pinkie Pie merely clopped her hooves together and waited.
“What now?” Applejack asked.
“Can’t reach!” Pinkie said, somehow managing to sit on her forehooves without falling off the stacked cushions. She opened her muzzle wide and grinned.
“Sometimes, I think you’re a few apples short of a bushel,” Applejack laughed. Making a big show of rolling her eyes, she held the single remaining cupcake up on a hoof. Pinkie Pie struck like a snapping turtle, and the cupcake was gone. Applejack wiped her now drool-covered hoof on her flank.
“Charming as ever.”
Pinkie stuck her tongue out, steadying herself and her wobbling tower. “You know, you can leave if you really want to. I can probably eat by myself. Besides, there’s not a lot to clean up. The Cakes liked the snow spray on their displays, and I can come by tomorrow with the Hearth’s Warming stuff you brought.”
Applejack shifted a bit so she could lean back against the wall. She didn’t need to look at Pinkie to know her expression was unchanged. She could hear in her voice that she was smiling, and that it was a sincere sort of smile to boot. No comment on what Applejack had done. Pinkie brushed it under the carpet, but it brought no relief. Rather, it made her angry. It wasn’t how stuff worked.
“I don’t get it. You oughta be mad at me. You should be spittin’ fire,” Applejack said. The itch only grew, and the air tasted sour.
“Silly, I’m not—”
“I know you ain’t a dragon or a lizard or whatever, so quit it!” Applejack groaned. She was back up on all fours before she knew it herself, rounding on the pink pony who still wouldn’t let go of her smile. “This ain’t funny. Not now, please.”
Applejack stood still as can be, breathing loudly as she stared Pinkie down. Finally, Pinkie’s lips quivered the tiniest bit. She’d made a dent in her mood, made her react, and Applejack instantly wished she could take back all she’d said. All she’d ever done.
“Are you angry with me?” Pinkie asked. Her voice was as thin as it had never been before. “Did I make you angry for real?”
Applejack sat and clenched her eyes shut. “No. No I ain’t. Not now at least.” She let out a sigh. “You got it all backwards. You’re the one s’posed to be angry with me. I spilled your secret. I told everypony.”
A rustle. Four hooves impacted on the floorboards, and Applejack felt Pinkie Pie move a little closer without touching.
“Why would I be mad? Everything turned out fine. Everypony looked like they had a really great time, and I’m sure Granny Pie would be super happy with it. She loved winter!”
“I’m glad to hear that, I really am, but I had one thing to do, and I couldn’t do even that right because I thought I knew better.” Applejack bit back a bitter chuckle. “I figured ‘cause we’re all friends that they deserved to know, but it weren’t my call to make at all. Never was.”
Applejack leaned back until her head made a satisfying thunk against the wall behind her. How stupid she’d been. “Way back when I didn’t know you as well as I do now, I used to think you were all inconsiderate. That you never think about anypony but yourself. Heck, for a second, I thought you just wanted to shirk your duties to your family just yesterday. Fact of the matter is, you just wanted to do this your own way.”
Pinkie Pie made a small noise of protest, but Applejack pressed on. “I admire that. Just as much as I feel a fool now for doubting you. Now I’m the one who’s bein’ an inconsiderate buffoon.”
The silence held for a few seconds. Applejack felt a hoof on her withers.
“Um, well. You did have a point—” Pinkie began.
“It wasn’t my call to make!” Applejack said. It came out a little louder than she’d meant, but still she fixed Pinkie Pie with a glare.
A look Pinkie Pie, apparently, was happy to return. Pinkie’s eyes narrowed, and she moved her hoof from Applejack’s withers up to her forehead. Applejack was so surprised, she didn’t know what to do except follow it with her own eyes—until Pinkie gave a very light push. Applejack toppled onto her side with a yelp.
“Wha—”
“No!” Pinkie said, hopping onto the table to glare down at her. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to be angry with yourself. I forbid it!”
Applejack barely had the presence of mind to breathe. If anypony had ever before tried to tell her Pinkie Pie could be scary, she would’ve laughed them straight in the face. Right now, the portion of her that felt like laughing shriveled up and hid while Pinkie Pie leaned in.
“You said it yourself, if anypony here is supposed to be angry, it’s me! Yeah, I told you not to tell, but guess what? Sometimes, ponies slip up. Sometimes ponies do silly things, and I should know, because I do that a lot. I was a little bit sad, but you had a point. It wasn’t a teensy-weensy point, it was a big huge point—” Pinkie paused her glare to scratch her muzzle as she thought, but to her credit, she picked right up where she left off. “—actually, lots of good points, and you were right. You’re all my friends, and it was silly not to tell, and maybe I should have.”
Applejack nodded as slowly as she could, clutching her hat to her belly. “And I am sorry. I ain’t got no excuse.”
Pinkie shrugged off her angry look like a dusting of snow and hopped down to land at Applejack’s side, nuzzling her. “S’okay! Apology accepted. If you’re really really super sorry, you can come help me next week when I’m baking three hundred muffins for Ponyville Hospital. I would love some help!”
Finally, with those two magical words—apology accepted— came the relief she had been craving. Applejack let out a slow sigh, deflating with it until she imagined what was left of her could be hung to dry on a rack. She picked herself up off the ground and gave a shuddering nod. “Right. You can count on me for that. You say the time and place and I’m your mare for the day.”
“Good! Aw, thanks!” Pinkie said, grinning wide. She leaned over to finish off a half-eaten treat and give the firefly lantern a nudge that barely helped. “You know you don’t really have to.”
“I ain’t doing it as penitence or what-have-you. I’m doing it ‘cause I want to,” Applejack said, and once her brain caught up to her mouth she realised how true it was. Spending an evening with Pinkie didn’t feel like much of a punishment.
“I tried asking Rainbow Dash too, but she said she didn’t know how to bake muffins. I told her it’s super easy, but then she told me the story of what happened the last time she tried to bake something that needed an oven, and I thought we’d hang out some other day instead.”
“Yeah. Some ponies just ain’t meant to bake,” Applejack chuckled. “Same goes twice for Twilight.”
“I thought that was why Princess Celestia sent Spike with her,” Pinkie said. She giggled and reached for the last of the turnovers. “Aw. I’m sure we could teach her to bake. Maybe.”
“Wouldn’t count on that.” Applejack shook her head. “So. Uh. You think I was right?”
“Yeah!” Pinkie said, halting mid-nod a second later with her tongue sticking out of her mouth. “Wait, actually, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Right about what? Probably!”
“Tellin’ people,” Applejack said. “D’you think you’ll tell the Cakes?”
Pinkie Pie shrugged. “Oh! Sure? Maybe before the party next year? I don’t think there’s a lot to tell right now. I’m okay, thanks to you.” She leaned in for a hug which Applejack happily returned. “Do you think I should? There’s not a whole lot to tell when I’m over it, it’s like inviting ponies to a party that’s already happened.”
Applejack shrugged. “I don’t know. I always thought they were your second family, if you don’t mind me sayin’, and I know it’d be odd for me to tell something to my friends and not to my family. If you’re through with this, if you’re feelin’ better now—” she shook her head and tried to keep her face blank. “—then a’course I’m happy for you.”
“Sarsaparilla?”
Applejack must’ve blinked. From where Pinkie had pulled the two still-cold bottles, she couldn’t really tell, but she accepted it all the same. Applejack put her teeth to work on the bottle cap, and Pinkie hugged her own bottle close, head turned skywards while she thought.
“Sure, I’ll tell them, then! I guess they worried a lot, huh?”
“Lettin’ them know you’re okay at least is a nice idea,” Applejack agreed.
“Why is it less okay if I don’t tell the Cakes, though? I don’t think it matters a whole lot that they’re Mr. and Mrs. Cake. I think it would be just as important or unimportant if they were called Carrot Pie and Pumpkin Pie, or Mr. Tumblebottom and Mrs. Warblesnout. I should’ve told everypony who’s important to me, really!”
Applejack swilled the drink around in her mouth before swallowing. “Right. Just mean to say I heard you saying they’re kind of like family to you.”
Pinkie Pie tilted her head sideways. “Sure, but they’re not Pies, they’re Cakes, but that doesn’t matter ever anyway! How’s that any different from when you said that we—you know, me and Fluttershy and all of us—were honorary Apple family members? You remember that, don’t you? You did!”
Applejack went for a second swig. It wasn’t that she disagreed. She just didn’t have a whole lot to say to that. All of her friends, they were kin to her, and she couldn’t imagine life without any one of them.
“And besides,” Pinkie said. “I don’t know who said it, but I think somepony or maybe lots of ponies said that friends are just the family you choose, and I love my mom and dad lots, but I love you and all the friends I’ve made here in Ponyville just as much, so it doesn’t matter.”
“‘Course,” Applejack muttered. She couldn’t tell which way the words rubbed her, but still she found herself unable to agree quite so simply. “S’just different. Some things are different.”
“Nuh-uh. Everything is different! Some families are the kinds of families you’re born with, some families are the kind of families you decide on, and there’re even more kinds of families just waiting to be discovered, just like how there’re a bunch of different friendships, too!”
“Family is family,” Applejack said. A pointless repeat of her own words, and she didn’t really know what she wanted to say. She’d meant it when she named her friends kin, but making it more complicated than that, it opened the word family up to so many other things. Trying to add to it made her own little family on the farm smaller by comparison, and she didn’t need the core tenets of her life muddied right now. Not when she already felt a nagging twinge of guilt over how simply she could take any opportunity to leave the farm. Usually she’d have to check twice that everything was in order before she left, but this morning she’d been out the door with nary a backwards glance.
For a second she feared Pinkie might protest, watching her friend’s face transition from frown to squint to she didn’t even know what, but she said nothing. Pinkie Pie poked the tableside firefly lamp. When her hoof-prod yielded no response, she leaned in close with her snout to pout. “Aw. I guess they’re all going to sleep now,” she said. One lone firefly flitted around inside the glassy confines, and Applejack made to stand.
“Um, before you go? One teensy little thing?” Pinkie said. “I really thought you were going to laugh when I said I wanted to throw a party for Granny Pie. You didn’t. Thanks.”
Applejack lifted a leg to roll her shoulder, shifting on the spot. “Yeah, well, don’t thank me too much. It was clear it was important to you, so I don’t see why I’d laugh anyway, but still I almost did.”
“But you didn’t.” Pinkie nuzzled her cheek, leaving a smudge of pink warmth that lingered.