Hearth’s Warming
Twilight’s eyes flew open, and she flailed herself awake, tumbling off the side of the bed and onto the floor. She wrestled her way out of the twisted sheets and jumped to her hooves. For a moment she was disoriented, and spread her wings to keep from falling over.
“Woah,” she groaned, shaking the sleep from her head. She stumbled to her vanity and lifted a brush to her mane, fighting it back into a semblance of order. She still felt half caught in the memory magic, and the tangibility of the real world threw her off. As she worked the snags from her tail, her gaze drifted to the clock.
It was two in the afternoon. Twilight nearly fell over again.
“How in Equestria did I sleep that long?!” she shouted, tugging her tail straight and wincing at the brushstrokes. “Stupid spell! Wonderful spell! Stupid, wonderful spell! I need to write Luna a thank you letter!” She leapt up from the vanity and flew down to her desk. “Wait, no! No time!”
She jumped up again, flapping her wings, and flew down the stairs. She grabbed a scarf off a peg, flung it around her neck, and pulled the door open.
Rarity stumbled back from the threshold, one hoof raised to knock. “Oh, Twilight, you must have heard us coming.”
For a moment, Twilight hovered in the air staring at the gathered carolers. She shook her head and folded her wings to her sides, landing on the ground hard enough to make her teeth click. “Actually, I was just about to head out.”
Pinkie flashed a pair of wide, pleading eyes at her, and guilt squirmed in her belly. “I, uh, changed my mind and was going to go to Applejack’s. How about I join you singing at the next house before I go?”
Pinkie grinned and dragged her out of the library. “C’mon, Twilight, it’s—”
“Hearth’s Warming, I know.” She giggled at her friend, and pulled away just long enough to close and lock the door behind her. They set off together back towards town, and she exchanged grins with the others. “How has your morning been?”
“Oh my gosh, it’s been so much fun!” Pinkie ran a circle around the group. “We started a little late, thanks to grumpy foals, but everypony loves carols! I got three caramel apples!”
“Me, too!” Sweetie Belle chimed.
Rarity cringed. “Yes, but you’re only eating one today, Sweetie.”
“Yeah, yeah, one right now, the others later.”
“Much later,” Rarity whispered. She turned to Twilight. “So what made you decide to take up Applejack’s invitation?”
“Oh, well…” Twilight looked away, chewing her lip. “When I woke up today, my mind was made up.” She caught Rarity’s raised brow from the corner of her eye, and turned to Mr. and Mrs. Cake. “I hardly ever see the two of you outside of Sugarcube Corner; are you enjoying your day off?”
The couple shared a beleaguered look for a moment. Mrs. Cake smiled at Twilight and said, “Yes, it’s been very nice to be out and about for a change. Carrot and I were talking about that earlier. The shop’s just too much of a hoofful to take very much time off.”
Twilight tried to hide her wry smile. “You know, I’ve been looking for some excuses to get out of the library every now and then. If you’re interested, I wouldn’t mind helping out around Sugarcube Corner once in a while and give you two a break. Say, by helping Pinkie with cleaning two or three times a month?”
The two blinked in surprise, exchanged a look, and turned back to Twilight. “We couldn’t ask a princess to clean our bakery,” Mr. Cake insisted.
“You’re not asking; I’m offering. Really, you’d be doing me a favor by giving me the excuse. Plus, I’d like to see you two get out on your own more.” She looked forward, hoping to hide her blush. “Beats sneaking long lunches.”
Mr. and Mrs. Cake exchanged yet another look, and grinned at each other. Mrs. Cake stuck a hoof out to Twilight, who shook it. “You drive a hard bargain, Twilight, but if you’re dead-set on working at the bakery for free, who’re we to stop you?”
They exchanged a giggle, which turned into a belly laugh when Pinkie leapt behind the group and shoveled everypony towards an awaiting doorstep.
Twilight wrapped her hooves around Pinkie’s and Rarity’s necks while they belted out Carol of the Bells together, and on the chorus, she lifted Sweetie Belle onto her back. They gave Sweetie the second chorus to sing by herself, and Twilight agreed with the Rarity from her dream: divine was the perfect description.
When they finished, and the ponies inside asked for an encore, they switched to The Fire of Friendship, and Twilight’s eyes drifted to the sky. She hadn’t seen a clock in her memory, but based on the sun, supper at Sweet Apple Acres was growing close. She tried to push her nerves away and focus on singing.
After earning another caramel apple a piece for Sweetie and Pinkie, as well as a worsening eye-twitch for Rarity, Twilight bid them farewell. She set off at a canter, which increased to a gallop.
Twilight eyed the sky as she turned down the dirt road through the orchard. She knew she’d missed Applejack coming in with firewood, and a twinge of regret clenched her throat at the thought that Applejack had been talking to her photograph while she sang, but she picked up her pace, hoping, wishing to make it there before they sat down to eat.
As the house came into view, Twilight opened her wings and flew the rest of the distance. On the porch, she peered in through the window, and released a heavy breath: Applejack was helping set the table. In a few moments, her friend would sit down, and turn to the door, waiting for her. Twilight settled on the porch. She patted her mane into order, stood up straight, and thumped her hoof against the door.
She heard a chair scuff across the floor as Applejack stood up again inside. She held her breath, listening to hoofsteps, and watched the door open in front of her.
“Twilight! I thought that might be you!” Applejack said, grinning at her. Twilight’s stomach somersaulted, and she returned the smile.
“Is that invitation still open?”
“Course it is, sugarcube! C’mon in; everypony was just sittin’ down to tuck in!” Applejack walked back to the table with a bounce in her step, and pulled a chair out for Twilight.
Stepping inside the farmhouse, Twilight grinned around the table and took the offered seat. She inhaled the aroma wafting from the dishes. “Oh, it smells so good. I meant to come a little earlier and help out, but I woke up late and ended up going to carol at a house with Pinkie and Rarity.”
Applejack took her seat next to Twilight. “Shucks, Twi, house guests ain’t gotta help with the cookin’; alls we want is your company. ‘Sides, Mac an’ me had a helper in the kitchen, didn’t we, Mac?”
“Eeyup.” He grinned at Apple Bloom, who beamed back at him.
“I do like cookin’, though I ain’t got a cutie mark from it.” She glared over her shoulder.
Twilight giggled. “Well, I bet it still tastes delicious, with or without a cutie mark. Those sweet potatoes look amazing; family recipe?”
Applejack puffed out her chest, and dolloped a serving of them onto Twilight’s plate. “That they are: my momma’s secret, an’ Apple Bloom did ‘em perfect the first time.”
“Now hold your horses, Applejack,” Granny teased. “Can’t go servin’ up food ‘til we done said somethin’ over the meal. Anypony got a toast?”
Twilight lifted a glass of water in a glow of magic. “How about to families?”
Applejack lifted her own glass. “I’ll drink to that; it’s right fittin’ for Hearth’s Warmin’.” The others raised their glasses. “To families.” They clinked together in the center of the table. “By blood or not.”
“That’s better,” Granny said with a nod. “Now hurry up an’ load my plate; I’m starvin’!”
Sadness pinched Twilight’s heart as she watched the eldest Apple lift her dentures off the table and slap them into her mouth. She leaned closer to Granny. “Applejack’s shared some of your stories about what it was like when your family first started the farm, but I’d love to hear them from you.” She grinned at Applejack. “I might love history almost as much as Applejack.”
“Is’at so? She done tell ya the one about the first Hearth’s Warmin’ on the farm?”
“No, but even if she did, I’d bet you’d tell it better.” She shot Applejack a teasing smile, whose glare back at her was ruined by the rumbling of contained laughter.
“Applejack, I like this friend a’ yours, she’s a keeper.”
Applejack lost the reins on her mirth, and her siblings and Twilight soon joined in. Granny Smith took the opportunity to grab a second helping of sweet potatoes.
Twilight’s face hurt from grinning all through dinner, listening to Granny Smith’s stories, hearing Apple Bloom’s excited recounts of ‘almost’ finding her special talent, and even a wry and clever anecdote from Big Mac, and she wondered how she could ever had said ‘no’ to the invitation. The food was as good as it smelled, and she ate with gusto: not as fast as the practiced speed of farmers, but quantities reminiscent of her first meeting with Applejack. As dinner wound down, Twilight was feeling full: full of food, full of stories, full of laughter, and full of resolution.
“Can I help with the dishes?” she asked.
Applejack scoffed, leaping up to gather plates. “Ain’t no guest on the farm’s gotta do no dishes. You sit yourself right in that chair and not move an inch, ya hear?”
“Actually, Applejack, I thought I’d go outside and stargaze.” Applejack stopped and raised an eyebrow at Twilight. “Winter’s the best time to do it, and they’re brighter when you’re not surrounded by the town. Meet me out there after the dishes?”
Applejack smiled and nodded. “Sure thing, sugarcube.”
Twilight stood, and cantered to the door. She almost walked face first into the wood out of habit and distraction, but she remembered to open it. She went to the edge of the porch, away from the window and the light pouring out from the cozy home, and stared up at the sky, watching her breath puff in front of her, spotting constellations. She listened to the clink of china and rush of water inside, and tried to pin her focus to the noise of dishes and sight of stars.
Nerves jangled up her spine, and she sat on her haunches to keep from trembling. She could feel her heart thunder in her chest as the time stretched out, but through all of it, the image of Applejack’s grinning face, peering through the door to greet her, kept her still, kept her breaths steady.
The door to the house opened, and Applejack came to sit next to Twilight. For a moment, neither of them said anything, staring upwards.
“…I never really look up at the stars ‘round the farm. Gets dark early enough this time a’ year I could, but I don’t remember last time I did. They are brighter, ain’t they?”
“It’s called light pollution. The brightness of the stars has to compete with the light from homes and shops. It’s not too bad in Ponyville, but in Canterlot, some nights you can hardly see any stars at all. Out here, though…”
Grinning, Applejack took in the skyscape. “Hard to believe there ever was a time Princess Luna got jealous nopony saw how beautiful her night was.”
“I always had trouble believing it, too.”
“Well, she sure ain’t lazy tonight. I’ll have to remember to say thanks next time I see her.”
“…Me, too.”
Applejack took a deep breath of the crisp air, and sighed in contentment. “I sure am glad ya changed your mind an’ decided to come, Twi.”
“Me, too.”
“Really means a lot to me ya did. You were pretty against it last night, though. What changed your mind?”
Twilight swallowed the lump in her throat. She willed the tremor from her voice as she turned away from the stars to look at her friend. “I had…a revelation last night. Applejack…?”
Glancing down from the sky, Applejack started, and gave Twilight her full attention. “What’s botherin’ ya, sugarcube?”
“I’m…I’m sorry.”
Applejack’s brow knit, and she frowned.
“I’m sorry I didn’t notice.” Twilight leaned closer, and she could smell roasted vegetables, apple pie, and dish soap on Applejack. “I should have known what you meant.”
“I…I ain’t followin’ ya, Twi.”
“I should have realized that all this time I’ve had a pony by my side. Somepony who’s always been there for me, who’s only been trying to get my attention in her own way, but I’ve been too short-sighted to notice.”
Twilight watched the blooming realization on Applejack’s face, delighted in it, reveled in the smile spreading across the beautiful mare’s muzzle. “I want to fix my mistake now. Because the future’s wide open, and I know that whatever happens, wherever life takes me…I know I want the pony who’s always been next to me in it.”
“Twilight…are you—?” Applejack’s voice died in her throat as Twilight’s hoof stroked her cheek. She let out a breath, watching it turn to fog in front of her eyes and vanish against Twilight’s face.
“Can I kiss you, Applejack?”
Closing her eyes, Applejack collapsed the distance that separated them. In an instant, Twilight felt strong hooves wrap around her back, and a tantalizing warmth press to her chest. The strength and warmth, and the softness of Applejack’s lips against her own underlined everything she knew about her friend: the steadiness, the constant dependability, the gentleness, the sweetness. In that moment, Twilight’s resolve strengthened, and she sensed the memories of a Hearth’s Warming yet to come lose their substance and fade to a bad dream. The reality of the spell fell apart, and the knowledge of what years ahead would hold turned from fact to fanciful guesswork.
Twilight’s future lay before her, holding her close as another Hearth’s Warming came to pass and dissolved into snowflakes.
But she remembered what the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Present had promised: every new year would bring a new Hearth’s Warming, and Twilight knew she would always remember this one.
Dear Princess Luna,
I’ve rewritten this letter so many times I’ve lost count. I just don’t know what to say. I can never thank you enough for what you’ve shown me. Thank you, Luna. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Thank you.
With the spirit of Hearth’s Warming always remembered,
—Twilight Sparkle