//------------------------------// // The Eldest // Story: Legend of the Shotgun // by SleepIsforTheWeak //------------------------------// His hoofs trembled. The bag that he was holding onto trembled. His heart palpitated. Taking step after apprehensive step, he let out a ragged sigh as he meandered past potholes and open drains. A paper advertisement lay on the black dirt-covered ground beside him, informing him of the location of ‘Hot Pink Night’. He shuffled to his left to avoid a rather large puddle in a pothole, only to clench his jaw when he realized that he was right next to a moss covered stone wall. His eyes widened slightly and he pursed his lips. He was not averse to dirt, or nature. He was just unfamiliar, and the nervousness and anticipation that he was feeling was taking a toll on him. He unconsciously yelped and jerked away when a frog suddenly jumped out from an opening of someone’s rusty green-painted gate. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he only knew the clean wide alleyways of Canterlot. He only knew of polished floors and wiped crystal clear windows. Wherever he went, nothing larger than an ant scurried around. Whether it rained or snowed or shined, the roads were always the same, always smooth, always clean, and never littered. If something fell and wrecked the road, it would be repaired before sundown. Never had he ever had to walk to anywhere. He was always driven right up to the entrance of his destination. Riches filled his world; only the best of the best appeared before him. And just a year ago, the best of mares appeared before him and within eight months of constant wooing from him, became his. She was perfect, except for everything that surrounded her and made her, her. He bit his lower lip, eyes wandering around, searching for the number 12, amongst all the 2, 7, 26, 9, 15, and 10. He gulped, wondering if he had lost his way among the maze of buildings. Every turn he took seemed the same to him and every house he saw seemed like a clone of the last. He knitted his eyebrows as his nervousness doubled. His breath came marginally faster. He clenched his jaw so tightly that his maxillary muscles ached. So, this was Ponyville? Harmph. He contemplated calling his driver for directions when he spotted her waving at him just a short walk away. “Silverplate. Over here.” Relief washed over him like a rush of hot water on a cold wintry day as his eyes sparkled and a smile lit up his face. Running towards her without a thought about potholes and frogs, he rushed head-first into her and wrapped his forelegs around her, clinging onto her like a survivor gripping a piece of driftwood from a shipwreck out at sea. “Topaz,” he gasped as she steadied herself from the impact that almost knocked her off her hoofs. “I’m so glad to see you.” They stood there for a little more than a moment, during which his heartbeat returned to normal as she patted his back. With her around, everything that was unfamiliar and different became understandable and, maybe, even a bit homely. “Why? Is this your first time walking through the alleyways of a commoner’s neighborhood?” she joked while smoothing his fringe as they broke apart. “Was our widdle Silver scared?” “Tsk, was not,” he lied, rolling his eyes. She shot him a look of disbelief and he returned it with one of indignation. She fixed the lapels of his suit and let her hoof sweep down its front, like she always did whenever she saw him, except with more care now. “Ready to go?” she asked. “I’m scared,” he admitted even as he nodded. She put a reassuring foreleg around his shoulders. She was notably taller than him, and while it used to annoy him, now he gladly snuggled into her even if it made walking kind of awkward. “Come on.” She guided him through the many identical alleyways of Ponyville with a surety that said she could have done it in her sleep. “My parents won’t eat you.” “’Paz, do you think they’ll be okay with my gift?” he whispered as they emerged from the maze of the Ponyville residential area and took up a narrow dirt road. In the distance, a sign welcomed them to Sweet Apple Acres. “I told you, you don’t have ta bring anything,” she huffed, but her smile stayed in place. Seeing the apprehensive look on his face, she hugged him closer. “Yes, Silver, they’ll be fine with whatever.” They passed under the sign ahead and suddenly were surrounded by apple trees. “They’re just glad to see me bring somepony home after all these years.” “You mean, I’m not the first?” he asked, his pitch a little higher and his tone marked with jealousy. Beside him, he felt her stiffen just the slightest bit. “No, it’s… it’s not that,” she said, her tone unusually quiet. More trees passed them, and the path they were walking on moved up into a hill. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and his breathing became shallow as they began climbing. A gentlepony like him was not accustomed to such physical tasks as climbing a hill. Silence fell between them, punctuated by his gasping breaths, for the rest of the climb. Finally, they made it up the hill and the ground began to level again. A short walk ahead of them stood a red barn house, old but proud atop it’s hill surrounded by apple trees. A sharp bark broke the melody of the summer birds and crickets that occupied the air, and Silver jumped. “D-dog?” he squealed. “Eyup. He’s my sister’s little mutt,” Topaz explained, and a small brown dog trotted up to them. Topaz leaned down and rubbed the dog’s head. “She named him Warrance,” she informed her coltfriend, who cringed away from the melogouros beast. Ugh. He hated dogs. “Oh, hello,” a new voice greeted him as he glared at the dog. He looked up from the sight of his marefriend still scratching the beast, and met pale harlequin eyes. “Oh, hey, Jasper,” Topaz said, looking up also. She rose from her squatted position and turned to Silverplate. “Silver, this is my baby brother Jasper. Jas, this is Silverplate.” The unicorn stallion extended a hoof and a million-dollar smile. “Charmed,” he greeted, the way most Canterlinians do when introduced. Yet his voice carried a warmth that simply could not be found among the Canterlot nobility. He actually sounded like he was pleased to meet Silver instead of following through the motions of social etiquette. “The same,” Silver said quietly, shaking the hoof offered to him and taking a moment for a once-over. Jasper was, quite easily, the most aesthetically pleasing pony Silver had ever laid eyes on. He had the natural grace and unsurpassed perfection of somepony who belonged on a catwalk, and yet the light blanket of sweat on his pristine white coat told Silver that this young stallion not only lived on a farm but also worked on it. His eyes had the same sparkle of kindness found in Topaz’s, and the coiffure of his crimson mane was a little behind on the times; frankly, he supported a manestyle that was mainly popular in Canterlot some twenty years ago, but, oh, how he pulled it off. He wore nothing but a peculiar neckerchief around his neck. It was old; very, very old, but spoke of tender caring. It was orange with a white trimming, and depicting red apples. “Was my Granny’s,” Jasper informed him, clearly catching his stare. There was a note of some emotion that Silver could not recognize in his voice. “I see,” Silver said carefully, but Jasper didn’t seem offended at all. In fact, the other stallion smiled cheekily at him, displaying dimples that could be found in his sister. “C’mon, lets go inside,” he suggested. “Everypony else wants to meet you, too.” The inside of the barn house smelt absolutely wonderful, that was the first thing Silverplate noted when Jasper opened the old screened door. The smell of food was thick in the air, so thick that it could practically be tasted. “Mother? Ma?” Topaz called out into the house. “In here, darlings!” came a chiming reply in an accent that was familiar to Silver’s ears. What was a member of the Canterlot nobility doing living on a farm? Topaz led through the house and he followed her. His ears perked as the screen door slammed shut behind him and moments later Jasper appeared beside him, walking just a hair closer than was necessarily allowed by social etiquette in Canterlot. Silver decided he liked it. The inside of the house was decorated nicely, but humbly. The front door led into a modest living room with a light lavender couch, loveseat, and armchair. An old, thoroughly holed area rug acted as the only padding from the hard, creaky wooden floorboards. Pictures absolutely crowded nearly every inch of the walls and every other surface where pictures would fit. There was an old fireplace, unused because of summer, and some three windows with dark blue, hoof-sewn curtains. An old rocking chair sat abandoned beside the stairs that led to the upper part of the house, and yet somehow, it seemed to be the most important part of the room. Topaz led into the kitchen, which was past the small dining room, and the smell of food became stronger. Inside, two mares stood around the various appliances preparing what looked like a mountain of food. “Hey, there they are!” An orange mare with a blond mane exclaimed warmly when she caught sight of them. She paused her preparation of the salad and trotted over. “Name’s Applejack,” she informed Silver, shaking his hoof firmly with a nearly bone crushing grip. “You must be Silverplate.” “You can call me Silver,” he muttered back, liking the kind twinkle in Applejack’s sap green eyes. They were different from her son’s eyes－brighter in color－but lacked none of the warmth. “Silver it is,” Applejack agreed, and stepped aside as the other mare came closer to them. “Rarity. Pleasure, darling, I’m Topaz’s mother,” the other mare greeted in the accent that Silver had heard previously. Indeed, this mare looked like she did belong on the streets of Canterlot. She had bright, sparkling blue eyes, just like Topaz. She was not grand and stately like Silver’s own mother, nor was she sickly thin and plastic-looking like the other mares in Canterlot. Her skin was not tight and taut but instead was made more beautiful by lines that had formed through years of laughter, sadness, worry. It made her look wise, and gave her face character. She had the aesthetic perfection found in her son and the celebrity mothers that he had seen both in posters and around his neighborhood, but she looked more familiar and approachable. And just like with every character presented to him under the name of Apple, he liked her immediately. “Charmed,” he replied, meaning it for the first time in his life. “How long until dinner’s ready, Ma?” Topaz asked Applejack. “I wanna introduce him to Opal.” Silver’s ears perked at the new name. There was more? “‘Bout ten minutes, ‘Paz,” Applejack replied as she trotted back to her previous station and picked up the large knife that she had been using to cut vegetables. “I’ll ring the triangle when it’s ready.” “Thanks, Ma. Actually, do you know where she is?” “Out in the fields,” Jasper replied. His brow creased. “I kind of left her out there when I saw you guys.” “I cannot believe you, Jasper Jackson!” a unicorn whom Silver guessed was Opal snapped when she caught sight of them wandering through what the Apple siblings had dubbed the ‘western field’. Jasper winced, smiling apologetically. “Sorry, sis,” “Jasper Jackson?” Silver whispered to Topaz. What an odd name. “Jasper Jackson Rara-Avis Magnum Jonathan Apple,” Topaz replied with a nod while Jasper continued to apologize to his sister in the background. “He’s named after both of my mothers and grandfathers.” “Oh,” Silver deadpanned. “Mouthful, ain’t it?” “Quite.” “－Look, I went to deposit the apples in the cellar and I just saw ‘Paz with her coltfriend. I’m sorry, I got preoccupied,” Jasper pled. “Fine, fine,” Opal said with a haughty sniff. “But after dinner, I’m not coming out with you.” “But Opaaaal. I hate night buckin'. It’s creepy out here.” “Well maybe you should have thought of that before you abandoned your sister after she was so generous to help you. And please quit whining like a little foal; you are nearly sixteen years old,” Opal said with finality, and then trotted closer to where Silver and Topaz stood observing the exchange. “My apologies for that,” she said pleasantly. “You must be Silverplate.” “Just Silver is fine,” Silver said, shaking the hoof she offered him. “You’re Opal, I take it.” “Indeed, darling. Charmed.” Her voice carried hints of her mother’s accent, and her face hints of her mother’s beauty, but not in the ‘drop-dead gorgeous’ way that Jasper’s did. Nevertheless, she was very beautiful. Her coat was a pale yellow, and her mane a platinum blond that didn’t exist in either of her mothers. Her eyes were a brilliant orange color with long, seductive lashes. “Yes, charmed,” he replied. A melodious sound rang through the air then, followed by the happy barking of Warrance and Silver internally cringed at the reminder of a dog on the land. “That’d be dinner,” Topaz announced. “Let's start heading back.” “So, what did you think o’ him?” Rarity rolled her eyes at her wife’s muffled voice coming from their bathroom. “Spit your toothpaste out, darling, then ask.” “What did you think of him?” a much clearer voice came a second later, and Applejack ducked from the bathroom, turning the light off. Rarity watched her through her mirror as she climbed up onto the bed. “I thought he was a fine individual,” she admitted, swiping at the back of her left eyelid with a moist towelette. “Yeah,” Applejack sighed, frowning. “Problem, dear?” Rarity asked curiously, switching towelettes and eyelids. “Naw, just…” Applejack leaned back into the pillows and fidgeted, staring up at the ceiling, where a bamboo fan rotated slowly. “You don’t think she’s just… I don’ know… trying to kill time?” “What do you mean by that?” Rarity asked, peeling away one false eyelash, and then the other. “You know damn well what I mean, Rare. She’s just… tryin’ to distract herself. From him.” Rarity sighed deeply and scooted out of the vanity seat. “She may very well be, yes, but what are the chances of them being together? That colt has less interest in romance than his mother did at his age.” Rarity slid carefully under the duvet. “I honestly don’t see him ever falling in love.” “I suppose so,” Applejack admitted. “But she’s hurting. Did you see the way she barely said anything to Silver during dinner? Heck, Opal flirted with him more than she did.” “Sadly, yes,” Rarity sighed. “He’s just like the last one. And it’s a shame, I actually really like Silver. He’s the best one yet.” “Best one yet, maybe, but he’s no Lightning Dash.” “Yes. He’s is no Lightning Dash.”