//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 - Dinner With the Rich Family // Story: A World Without Princesses // by PonyTom //------------------------------// "Well, the good news is that it's a relatively minor spraining of the hoof. No torn ligaments that I could see, mostly just a poor stretch. It is my professional opinion that, given a week or so, your hoof should be as good as new." Macintosh sat on the observation table, hoof held out as the grey, elder stallion changed his bandaging and gave him a better casting. "This should allow you to continue walking about without putting too much stress on the injury. Come back to me in a week so that I can check up on it again, and until then, try not to put too much stress on that hoof if you can manage it." Macintosh responded with a simple nod, and the doctor smiled. "And how is your throat? Any changes since our last checkup? Have you been trying to talk more?" Macintosh responded with a simple shake of his head. "Nnope." The doctor sighed and shrugged. "Ah. Well, no change is better than it gettin' worse." The stallion gave a soft nod. "Well, unless there's anything else ya want me to check out, I think we're all done here." Macintosh nodded and hopped from the table, grabbing his coat and putting his hooves into the arms and making sure it was nice and settled. He waved goodbye as he stepped out of the doctor's home, and out into the streets. The trip back to Ponyville had been less eventful than the trip from it, thankfully, although he wasn't too pleased about having to cross the bridge again (or having fainted once more in the process) but thankfully, that seemed to be behind him at the moment. He casually walked down the street, intent on returning home. "Hey Big Mac!" Macintosh turned about to see Zecora and Braeburn approach him. "Y'alright cuz? Doc give ya good news?" "Eeyup" Big Mac nodded simply, waving his hoof around. "Just a sprain. Any luck?" Braeburn simply sighed. "None whatsoever. Took th' dang thing to Cheerilee, an' she said the only foreign language she knew was Prench. Old Equestrian is way above her head." Big Mac sighed. 'Guess it was too much to hope for.' "We might have to talk to Granny, see if anypony in th' family has connections or Old Equestrian reading skills." Macintosh hummed. He really didn't like the idea of having to rove about looking for a relative who had such skills, especially if they lived too far away. Still, he supposed as long as he didn't have to go back into the Everfree Forest, it wasn't so bad. With his sprain, he might not even be able to buck apples for a few days anyway. "I shall return to my hut in the Everfree. You know where to find me if you need me." Zecora nodded, then pointed to the bag on Braeburn's back. "Keep the tome and guard it with your life. I feel that with you, it is safer from strife." Macintosh and Braeburn offered a simple nod, and then Zecora turned and took off with a brisk trot. Braeburn sighed. "I hate to see 'er leave, but I love to watch 'er go." Big Mac swatted him in the foreleg with his good hoof. "Ow! Dangit, Big Mac..." Braeburn rubbed his leg, pouting a bit. "Guess we should head back home, huh? Granny'll likely be preppin' dinner by now..." "Eeyup" said Macintosh with a nod. The walk home was fairly uneventful. Nopony stopped them to say hi. Nothing weird or unusual happened. Braeburn didn't even stop to flirt with any girls; likely having had all the excitement he needed for one day. Macintosh himself felt more tired than he had ever felt before; a day's hard work often left him exhausted, but this was not just a physical sort of tired. It was the kind of tired that pierced through one's being. He felt as though once he found an appropriate place to lay down, he might close his eyes and not open them again for days. It wasn't too long before that familiar, beloved sign stood out marking their home, and they crossed that threshold, trotting down a dirt path. Macintosh could already see that familiar red house; it was simple in its design, but in his own mind it was the best place in the world, the only place he ever wanted to be. It was his little slice of heaven, and he wouldn't trade it for any mansion. Big Mac and Braeburn stepped onto the front porch, and he pulled the door open, stepping inside. As soon as he did, however, his eyes bulged wide at what he saw. "Oh! Hi Big Mac! You're home! This is my new friend, Scootaloo, and-Oh my goodness, did you hurt yourself!?" Macintosh stared at a pair of fillies; one his beloved sister, yellow coat, red mane with a cute little pink bow in it, wearing a green dress that their grandmother had made herself. Next to her, however, was a familiar, small orange filly in the Newspaper Colt Cap, brown vest, and white shirt. She looked back at him, her purple eyes dilating. He let out a snort, and growled loudly. "You!" "Uh-oh! Uhh..." Scootaloo looked around, gulped, and turned to Apple Bloom. "Apple Bloom, I-I think I better run..." The filly ran to the door, grabbing a scooter that was nearby, and rushed past Big Mac who, due to his injured hoof, was not able to stop her. Before he could turn around, she was already too far away for him to hope to catch up to in his current condition. The stallion let out a snort and turned to Apple Bloom. "What was she doin' here!?" "She's my new friend!" Apple Bloom nodded, smiling. "I met her this mornin' in the park! She was bein' bullied by Silver Spoon, jus' like I get bullied, an' we talked an' hung out an' I brought her home ta eat dinner with us!" "I reckon she already has all the dinner she needs for a few days at least!" said Big Mac, snorting, ignoring the scratching that was entering his voice. "She stole an entire basket of apples from our stand!" Braeburn bit his lip, reaching a hoof forward and tapping Macintosh's shoulder. "Big Mac, yer voice is-" "I don't care!" Macintosh winced, admittedly feeling a bit sore from the overexertion. He scowled a bit, glaring at Apple Bloom. "We'll talk later." "Why!?" Apple Bloom shouted. "So she stole a buncha apples! It ain't like we don't got plenty more! We got an entire orchard full'a them!" The small filly stomped her hoof, as if it drove her point home. "Why get so mad about those apples!?" "Later!" Macintosh growled, making his way past his sister towards the kitchen. "An' what if I wanna talk about it now, huh!? What if later ain't good 'nuff!" Apple Bloom stomped after him, her face red from anger. "I never do anythin' wrong, I always do my homework, an' I never cuss or spit, so why can't I have a friend!?" Macintosh didn't respond, however, and she felt her anger reach the boiling point. "Fine! You don't have ta talk, cause I'll talk, an' there ain't much you can say t' stop me cause, unlike some ponies in here, my throat isn't all messed up!" The moment the words left her mouth, Apple Bloom slammed her hooves over her muzzle, staring wide-eyed at her brother. Braeburn's own eyes had grown into discs, his jaw hanging a bit. Everything fell in silence, the only sound one could hear being a nearby grandfather clock. Macintosh turned to his sister, his eyes a familiar mix of emotions; anger, disappointment, and more hurt than he was willing to let on. Apple Bloom didn't move her hooves, staring at her brother with horrified eyes. "I... I didn't mean-" "Quiet" he said quietly, though even in that quiet there was some sense of power that both the filly and their cousin could almost feel. Big Mac turned from them and made his way into the kitchen without another word to finish the task he had set out to do. Apple Bloom's mouth moved wordlessly, and she stepped forward. "Big Mac, I-" A hoof on her shoulder brought the filly's plea to a halt. She turned her gaze to see her cousin staring down at her with sad, sympathetic eyes, though there was a hint of disappointment she knew well enough as he shook his head. "But... but I didn't mean ta..." "I know..." said Braeburn quietly. "But th' damage is done..." Mac made a cup of tea, filling it with sugar and honey to make sure it tasted sweet. He hated tea - it was just too bland for his tastes, and he never understood how rich ponies could drink the stuff like fish. Still, this particular brew was good for his throat, so that helped him stomach the taste. Drinking the liquid, he resisted the urge to gag at the taste as the ache in his throat did not vanish, but grew weaker. He waited until he had finished the drink to turn and head back into the living room, where Apple Bloom and Braeburn still waited. He did not look at the filly, so he did not see the tears in her eyes, and he paid no attention to his cousin whom was torn on who he pitied more between him or his sister. He silently made his way up the stairs, not letting any of that bother him. He put his hoof on the door to his room and pressed it open, stepping inside and closing the door back behind him. Macintosh sighed a bit, planting his haunches on the floor and staring at his simple room space. A bed, a nightstand, a desk, and a closet. He never needed much to be happy, so this was just fine for him. He sighed, standing up and making his way towards the bed, laying down in favor of his injured hoof. It was rare he took naps, but Big Mac felt he sorely needed one right about now. "Ya know, Big Mac, I think ya really need to talk to Apple Bloom." Macintosh did not respond as he and Braeburn trotted the path to the market, their hooves clomping against the cobblestone road as Macintosh pulled their cart behind them, a second cart hitched to it. "I mean... you haven't said a word to 'er since yesterday. I know what she said was wrong, but she's jus' a filly, you can't stay mad at 'er forever." "Not forever" Macintosh said without breaking his stride. "Jus' long enough so she understands." "I think she understands now. She was cryin' for a bit when you went upstairs, and was lookin' pretty sad the rest of the night." Macintosh didn't like the idea of Apple Bloom crying, but what she said had cut him deep. From any other pony, those words would have hurt; from his own beloved baby sister, they hurt so much more. "She knew what she was sayin'." Macintosh stopped, unhitching himself from his cargo and setting their stall up. "Watch this stall while I get this to Carrot Top." "No no, let me." Braeburn unhitched the secondary stall. "I can do this. You just sit here an' tend to customers, I'll do the rest. Okay?" Macintosh looked at his cousin, raising his brow. Braeburn simply smiled. "Fine." Braeburn nodded, hitching himself to the second stall. "You jus' sit here an' hold down th' fort until I get back, Big Mac. I promise I won't take too long." Braeburn trotted off, and Macintosh watched him make his way down the road to Carrot Top's place. Left to his own devices, Macintosh let loose a casual sigh, turning his attention back to the ponies milling about. Thoughts of yesterday came up, and he began to wonder what their zebra friend was up to. 'She had us keep that book, but why?' He began to ponder if even she knew what she should do next? It was then his eyes widened and he slapped his (good) hoof against his head. 'Dangit! I forgot to ask Granny if we knew any translators! Macintosh grumbled to himself. 'I musta been so tired and frustrated that it slipped my mind...' It was then that Macintosh noticed several ponies stopping and parting, two ponies headed his way. 'Whats this?' One of the ponies seemed like a pony servant; an older stallion, who seemed to be missing most of his mane, though he retained a dignified posture and gait as he walked, a black tux keeping him dapper. Next to him, however, was a mare that Macintosh didn't know; she was a tall, slender mare, her coat a pale blue, a darker blue, wavy mane adorning her, with the back of it braided and hanging over her shoulder. Her dress was a dark blueish purple, and her eyes a blue green. He could only stare in awe at her as she approached, his mouth moving wordlessly to his thoughts. '... She's.... she's beautiful...' The mare, much to his surprise, stopped at his stall, smiling a charming smile as her servant stepped forward. "Presenting her ladyship, Lady Nightingale Rich." That last name struck him. 'Rich? She's related to Filthy? But I thought he only had the one daughter...?' "Thank you, Teacup" said the mare, stepping past her butler as he stepped aside for her and making eye contact with Macintosh. The moment their eyes met, he felt entranced. "Hello, dear Macintosh Apple, and may I say that it is a pleasure to meet you. My uncle has said good things about you." "You too" Macintosh said. The mare held a hoof forward, and he took hold of it; she seemed somewhat surprised when he offered it a kind shake. "Oh" she said, seemingly unsure of how to respond to the greeting, though she smiled nonetheless. "Not at all what I'm used to." "Oh" Macintosh put a hoof behind his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm sorry." "Oh no!" The mare giggled. "Don't be! 'Tis quite refreshing, to be honest. A little something new can do wonders when you're so used to routine, wouldn't you agree?" Macintosh was ready to disagree, but he thought better of it. "Maybe." The mare smiled and nodded. "Macintosh Apple, I hope this is not a bad time, but I was made aware that you are the current manager of Sweet Apple Acres, are you not?" Macintosh offered a simple nod. "Eeyup." "Excellent!" She clopped her hooves together, smiling. "Then I have come to the right pony! Macintosh, I was wondering if perhaps you would be interested in having dinner with my family and I over a business proposal?" That peaked his curiosity. "Business proposal? What kind?" "Ah ah" she said, waving a hoof and tutting him playfully. "If I told you here, there wouldn't be much point in a business dinner, would there?" Macintosh nodded, accepting her argument. "You needn't worry about any expenses. We will have our chefs cook the entire meal. You need only bring yourself and your family. It's quite professional, I assure you." 'A free meal does sound pretty good... but what would Granny think...?' Immediately, Big Mac saw a vision of his grandmother giving him an angry glare. "Ya better do it! She's a pretty mare an' you ain't gettin' any younger, sow some wild apple seeds, boy!" Macintosh frowned. 'Well, she'd definitely want to do it... but what about Braeburn?' Once more, an image of his cousin, staring at him, jaw hanging, then grabbing him by his shoulders and shaking him. "You gotta do it! She's a pretty mare an' I ain't gettin' any younger! I gotta sow some wild apple seeds!" He sighed internally. 'Apple Bloom? I know I'm mad at ya right now, but back me up here...' In his imagination, his sister stared at him with innocent, confused eyes. "Big Mac, what does 'sow wild apple seeds' mean?" Macintosh grimaced internally. 'So much for that.' "Isn't tonight kinda... sudden?" Macintosh queried, bringing a hoof to the back of his neck and rubbing it. Already he felt his throat getting sore from talking too much, and he stroked it gently to ease it. The butler seemed to notice this, and withdrew a flask from his pocket, handing it to Macintosh. "To sooth your pain. Lord Rich was quite thorough in preparing her Ladyship for this venture." Macintosh raised a brow, but the butler held up a hoof. "Non-alcoholic, so you need not worry of intoxication." Macintosh took the flask, pulling the stopper open and sniffing it, deciding it didn't smell bad, and took a drink. The taste was sweet, not at all bitter as he had expected, and it did indeed make some of the pain in his throat disappear, almost miraculously. "Better?" "Eeyup" he said with a nod, closing it and handing it back, though the butler held up a hoof. "Consider it a gift." Macintosh didn't know if he should feel pleased at being given a gift or offended at the possibility that it had just been given to him because his lips had touched it. Deciding not to pick at a pleasantry, even if it was possibly non-genuine, he simply nodded and stuffed it into one of his own pockets. "If you wish, we can always postpone for a later date..." the mare's smile almost seemed sad. "Tonight would simply be better for me, what with my schedule." Macintosh looked into her eyes for a few moments. Those orbs stared into him, piercing his soul with their beauty. 'I am the head of the house hold... I don't normally make decisions without consultin' th' family first but... well....' Macintosh sighed a bit, but smiled. 'Why not? I doubt anypony would mind.' "Alright." "Excellent!" Nightingale smiled brightly. "Does Seven o' clock sound alright for you?" "Eeyup" he said, nodding. "Splendid! Thank you Macintosh. We shall be expecting you, and we will be happy to have you." Nightingale nodded, then turned her attention to her butler. "Teacup, let us away." The Butler offered Macintosh a friendly nod, a 'good day', and turned after his lady, both trotting down the street. Macintosh found himself, in a rare moment of weakness, watching the mare as she left. "Whoa... are you, Big Macintosh, the biggest prude I know, checking a mare out!?" Big Mac shook his head, waking up from his stupor. "Wha-nope! Nope!" He turned to Braeburn, blinking a few times. "How long you been here?" "Long enough to hear ya get accept an invite to dinner." Braeburn stepped beside Macintosh, a grin on his face. "An' holy horse-apples, you got yourself a winner. Rich and beautiful? What luck!" "Not like that..." Macintosh frowned. "Hey, if that's true then lemme have her." Braeburn grinned. "Holy crap! Was that the shut-in that's been living with the Riches for the past few months!?" Both ponies nearly jumped, turning to see Pinkie Pie standing behind them, staring wide-eyed. "I heard the rumors, but I didn't know they were true!" "Pinkie," said Big Mac, putting a hoof to his chest. "Don't scare us like that." "Sorry Macky!" Pinkie plopped on her haunches, smiling wide. "I just saw you talkin' to a pretty mare I'd never seen before, and I had to be sure that she was good enough for my cousin!" "Pinkie-" "I mean, I couldn't get much from that little conversation, but I suppose she seems nice enough! Pretty too! I wonder where she got that dress? It looked custom made! Not that I know anything about dresses, it just doesn't look like any dress I've ever seen-" "Pinkie Pie!" Macintosh shouted. Pinkie stopped, grinning sheepishly. Macintosh sighed, already feeling a bit of soreness in his throat. 'This week's been harsh on me.' He decided it wasn't bad enough to warrant a drink from his newly received flask, so he let it be. "Not like that." "Oh..." Pinkie hummed. "But you were staring at her bu-" "Nope!" Macintosh shouted, wide-eyed. Braeburn snickered a bit like a school colt at his cousin's frustration. "Jus' a business dinner invite." "Oooh" said Pinkie, nodding. "Sounds super serious!" She hummed a bit, then smiled big. "Can I come?" "Nope," Macintosh shook his head. He looked to Pinkie Pie to see her giving him big, sad eyes. 'She's puttin' tears in it! Damage control!' Macintosh smiled. "Ain't yer kinda shindig, Pinkie. Too serious fer a fun nut like you." Pinkie seemed to consider this, and a smile told Macintosh he had convinced her. "Oh, okay. But you really need to go to more parties!" Pinkie giggled. "I've never seen you have fun! I want Macky to have fun!" Big Mac frowned. "I have fun..." "Not much!" Pinkie giggle-snorted. "Well, I've gotta run! Bye bye!" With that, the pink mare was bouncing away, humming a song to herself. Macintosh sighed, shaking his head and turning to his cousin, who stared at him with a smirk on his face. "What?" "Told ya you love a boring life." "Shut up." Big Mac sighed, taking the flask from his jacket and drinking some of the fluid inside, before putting it back. It really did help a lot. Now, he had to consider going about telling Granny that he had set up a business dinner without telling her; even if she would have agreed (too readily) for him to do it, he knew that sometimes she would get indignant about not telling her first when making decisions on behalf of their family. A few hours passed, several ponies bought their apples, some in singles, some in dozens, but eventually the time came to close shop. Macintosh didn't worry about retrieving their backup cart; Carrot Top was going to keep that until they could repair hers (which, to his own shame, he had yet to even begin repairing), so all there was really to do was to hitch up their present cart and haul it back to the acres. The trip home was quiet; something Big Mac was happy for, as he knew when he told Granny of their dinner plans, she would likely badger him about preparing for it like it was his wedding. Perhaps that's why Braeburn wasn't teasing him anymore? He stepped hoof on the porch, pushing the door open. The moment it opened, he noticed an unpleasant smell filling the house. A smell he hadn't smelled for a long time, but knew all too well. "Someone burn an apple pie...?" Big Mac and Braeburn made their way through the living room (Braeburn shutting the door with his back hoof on the way in) and towards the kitchen, but he stopped when hearing voices. "Aww Apple Bloom, it's alright. Nopony's first Apple Pie turns out t' be a winner." "But I bet nopony's first apple pie burns either..." "Aww shucks, I'm sure it... uh... tastes lovely... it's just a bit soggy. An' burnt. Some ponies probably like that!" To Big Mac's surprise, his sister's voice sounded like she might cry. "Now Big Mac's gonna hate me forever... " He could hear the filly sob somewhat, and though he was still angry, he began to feel the guilt slowly growing in power. "Ohh sweety... he won't hate ya forever..." Granny Smith's voice was comforting, gentle. "Big Mac's jus' a sensative boy. Always has been. He'll be angry fer a bit, but he'll get over it. This'n might not be good fer eatin', but I'm sure Winona'll love it. Jus' next time you try to bake, be sure t' get my help first. Wouldn't want yer big brother comin' home to his house burnin' down, would we?" Big Mac turned to look behind him, seeing Braeburn giving him a surprisingly sad look almost as pleading as Apple Bloom's, though with none of the associated adorableness. He sighed, turning his head, taking a breath, and stepping into the kitchen. He turned to see Granny hugging little Apple Bloom, who still seemed to be sobbing. The elder mare looked up to him, her eyes widening upon seeing him. When she noticed the look on his face, she smiled a bit. "Well Apple Bloom... look who's here." Apple Bloom turned from her grandmother to see Big Mac, and a blush crawled into her cheeks. Macintosh couldn't help but smile. 'She and Applejack are so alike. Never likes to be caught cryin'...' Big Mac stepped forward and sighed, smiling at Apple Bloom. "I don't hate ya, 'Bloom..." The filly sniffled a bit, doing a terrible job of holding back any tears. "... I was mad... but I could never stay mad at you. Yer my lil' sister. I love ya." Apple Bloom sniffled a bit more, a smile on her face, her tears flowing more readily. She rushed forward and hugged Big Mac, wrapping her hooves around his neck. "Oh Big Mac," she whimpered, "I'm so sorry! I-I was... I was jus' so mad, a-a-an' I wasn't thinkin'-" "It's okay," Big Mac patted her back a few times, chuckling as he lowered his head so she could let go without falling on her rump. "Jus'... be more thoughtful next time... alright?" Apple Bloom sniffled a bit, nodding. Big Mac smiled again, to show her he meant it. Apple Bloom hugged him once more, then dashed out of the room. He hated to admit it, but Big Mac knew he could never stay mad at his sister; those sweet little eyes would always win him over. "Sorry t' interrupt, but Big Mac has other news!" Braeburn stepped forward, grinning. Big Mac threw a glare at him. "What? You been talkin' all day, I figured you'd want me to say somethin'. 'Cause the Apple Family has been invited to a business dinner by Filthy Rich's niece!" "Oh?" Granny Smith blinked a few times. "Huh! I knew he had family, but I never noticed anypony livin' with 'em!" Granny blinked, then grinned. "Wait, did you say niece?" Big Mac frowned. 'Here we go...' "Yessir!" Braeburn grinned wide. "And, might I say, said niece is quite the looker!" "Oh? She got child barin' hips!" "Oh yes!" 'I work on a farm, Braeburn. I have no shortage of places to hide a body.' "Well, that settles it!" Granny grinned wide, clopping her hooves together. "We'll get ready soon as possible! When's the dinner?" "Seven!" Big Mac glared at Braeburn, wishing his gaze could burn a hole in the stallion's head. "Well, Big Mac, we gotta make sure you an' Braeburn are nice n' presentable!" Granny chuckled. "Oh, we can also get Apple Bloom t' wear that cute lil' dress I made fer her when Applejack graduated!" The elder mare hurried up stairs fast as her old legs would take her, and Big Mac glared once more at his cousin. Braeburn blinked, looking at Big Mac as if he was confused. "What?" "Couldn't let me talk?" The yellow stallion simply chuckled. "Mac, let's be honest. You likely wouldn'ta said a thing until Granny said she was gonna prepare dinner. Yer predictable like that." That made Big Mac scowl, not just because he hated being called predictable, but also because he couldn't deny the accuracy of the statement. "Granny likes t' prepare for this stuff. If you're draggin' her on an unexpected dinner trip, should at least give 'er a few hours of advance notice t' prepare." It was a rare occasion that Braeburn was right, so Big Mac knew that he should let him have his win. He simply nodded, accepting his cousin's argument. "Great! So... how ya gonna woo 'er?" "Braeburn..." Big Mac groaned as his cousin laughed. The hours passed rather quickly. Big Mac had decided to busy himself until time to go by repairing Carrot Top's cart. He found some sort of serenity in fixing things; a sort of zen that few others seemed to understand. Even Braeburn looked at such tasks as chores, and would look for any excuse not to do them, but for Big Mac, it was when his hooves were busy that he thought his clearest. It allowed him to be productive, to be alone, and to vent any frustrations he may or may not have on pieces of wood. As he set a new top into place, he began to take notes of other little flaws in it. 'Beyond the damage I did to it, th' wheels seem kinda old, little worn. One looks uneven. The cart itself looks like it's probably older 'n Carrot Top herself is. I might be doin' her a favor to just outright build 'er a new one. Big Mac plotted and planned, considering all the ways he could improve upon the current cart, before he was interrupted by Braeburn. "Hey, Big Mac! Granny wants us t' get ready fer dinner!" "Already?" Big Mac raised a brow, looking out a nearby window. The sun was already setting. 'Time flies...' Macintosh sighed, stepping away from the tools and making his way towards the door. "Granny says you should get yourself washed up. She don't want us goin' there an' you smellin' like you've been out in the fields." Macintosh grunted in response, figuring it was enough to let Braeburn know he acknowledged his statement. Once inside, he made his way towards the bathroom and turned the faucet. As he waited for the water to get warm enough for him to bathe, he removed his jacket, then his shirt, and finally his bandanna. He opened a nearby closet, setting his clothes in a basket, and his bandanna on one of the towels before shutting the door back, and stepping into the shower. Once he was clean, Macintosh grabbed a towel from the closet, and dried himself as best he could. He took a towel, hanging it over his back, and grabbed his bandanna, wrapping it around his neck once more, before stepping out and into the hall, making his way to his room. After stepping out, he was wearing one of his best dress shirts, along with a waistcoat, with a dark green jacket hanging from his back. 'Ain't worn this since Applejack's graduation,' he thought, smiling. 'Not much a fancy pony, but this suit carries its own sense of pride.' Big Mac stepped from his room, almost immediately running into his granny, who was wearing an orange dress. "There ya are Big Mac! Oh don't you look handsome?" The elder nag giggled. "Oh! Hold on... yer mane's a mess..." The mare spat on her hooves, then placed it on his head and began pushing his hairs back, trying to slick it. Macintosh silently accepted it as she tried to tame his mane. "There ya go!" She smiled proudly as Big Mac's hair was now pressed back against his head. Maybe it was a twitch, or not thinking happy thoughts long enough, but all at once, the entire thing came undone, and the hair sprung back to its original shape. "Ah, good enough. I'll go make sure Apple Bloom an' Brae are ready." Granny trotted towards Apple Bloom's room, allowing Big Mac to step past her and make his way down the stairs. Eventually, the other Apples arrived; Apple Bloom, dressed in a pink dress that very much matched her bow, seemed less than ecstatic; despite the partnership between the Apples and the Riches, and what had been a relatively positive relationship, the Rich daughter, Diamond Tiara, did not get along with Apple Bloom too well. 'They are jus' kids' he thought with a smirk. 'Give it a few years, they'll probably be best of friends.' Braeburn was wearing a suit much like Big Mac's, though his jacket was brown, and an ascot tie. 'I think he tries to pretend he's a noble.' As Granny descended the stairs, the Apples set out to their destination. Upon arriving to their destination, the Apple Family stopped to look up at the manor before them; it was a rather large, beautiful house, made from rare and particularly sturdy materials as far as Big Mac could tell. In the front yard was a fountain, on which a mare stood on one hoof, spitting the fountain water into the air, which fell into the fountain itself. That fountain was surrounded by a bed of beautiful flowers. The cobblestone path circled around it, as if asking its visitors to do the same; to which they naturally obliged. Approaching the door, Big Mac sat on his haunches and held up his uninjured hoof to give it a light rapping. When the door opened, a familiar butler stood there. "Ah, Sir Macintosh. You're here. Just in time too. Do come in." The stallion opened the door wider, stepping to the side to allow the Apples in. Once everypony had stepped inside, he shut the door behind them and stepped forward. "Please, follow me. I shall take you to the dining hall." The butler began walking forward, and the family, as instructed, followed. Macintosh had been in the Rich home many times before; as a colt, his family often spent a lot of time with the Riches. He and Applejack would often pretend the mansion was haunted, and look in the various rooms for ghosts and mythical creatures. He smiled a bit at the memories; once, they found a ghost and ran screaming into one of the butlers, only for him to tell them they had just managed to find Filthy Rich's grandmother (who, to everypony's dismay, passed away a few weeks later of illness). It wasn't really until the loss of their mother that their visits became only occasional, and the passing of their father that they stopped altogether. Big Mac sighed, shaking his head. As he looked forward, however, something caught his eye; a mare heading their way, though she was dressed rather strangely. She wore a blue coat, whose tails seemed to hang over her flank, yet still exposed her cutie mark, which looked like some kind of pink starburst with several smaller stars surrounding it. A book seemed to be hanging from one side of her on a belt; if anything was on the other end, he could not tell. She seemed to have some sort of bandaging or something wrapped around the fetlocks of her front hooves, though if they were function or fashion he could not say, and she had a big hat on her head that, somehow, seemed off to him, though Macintosh couldn't tell why. "Ah. Good evening, Lady Twilight." 'Twilight', as the butler had called her, wordlessly passed them, though Macintosh noticed her cast a glance at him for but a moment; a cold, careless look in her eye, the mare not breaking her motions as she turned her attention back to the path before her and continued along her way. "Ah... mare of few words... Shall we continue?" Macintosh continued to linger there for but a moment, staring back at the mare as she made her way out the door, and it was closed behind her by yet another servant. '... Somethin' about that mare seemed... different...' He dared not linger too long, so Macintosh turned and continued his pace, earning a nudge from Braeburn (and giving him a slightly harder one in turn). A short time passed before the family was lead into an impressive room with a long table; chairs had been set up, and their hosts were already at the table, waiting. At the long end of the table was none other than Filthy Rich, who smiled, holding his hooves together. "Ah! Apple family! Welcome! Please, take a seat." The Apples stepped forward, with Big Mac taking the seat closest to Filthy himself, and he noticed that Nightingale herself had sat across from him. The mare smiled and waved a hoof, to which he responded by waving back, a somewhat bashful smile on his face. Granny had sat to his side, Braeburn to hers, and Apple Bloom next to his. Next to Nightingale sat Rich's daughter, Diamond Tiara; it took literally no time at all for her and Apple Bloom to begin exchanging dirty looks. "Thank you for coming, Macintosh" said Filthy, still smiling. "I must admit, I'm surprised you took up our offer. It has been a while since we've done more than just barter for goods." "Eeyup" said Big Mac with a nod. "And are you well?" "Well as can be expected," said Big Mac, smiling a bit. "Well then... before we eat, I would like to make my proposal..." Rich leaned forward, and to Big Mac that was a sign he was putting on his business face. "The reason I invited you here, Apples, is that I have a proposal for you." Everypony turned to face him, their ears perking as a sign they were paying more attention. "Our families have been loyal business partners for a long time. The Apples and the Riches are names that go hoof and hoof; it is as if you cannot mention one without thinking of the other, when it comes to the sales market." He sighed, looking down some. "I know... that we've all lost loved ones... and that with these losses, has come difficult times..." Everypony bowed their head in respect. "... and that with these losses, we've found ourselves becoming distant from each other, unlike our predecessors who were often like family..." Filthy grinned his winning grin. "And I think, for too long, the Riches have been benefiting more from that bond than the Apples." Macintosh quirked a brow, having an off feeling about where Filthy was headed with this. "We started Ponyville together. I think it is time that the Apples finally be rewarded for their troubles. That our families finally stand as equals." He paused a moment, to allow this to sink in. "What I propose is simple. I wish for the Apples and the Riches to gain equal shares in the profits from Sweet Apple Acres apples sales; all sales, including apples, jams, pies, fritters, etc. In return, the Riches would own half the rights to Sweet Apple Acres. We would be able to hire better farm-hooves, buy top-of-the-line equipment, expand your land..." Rich smiled at the Apples once more, making sure he caught each of their eyes. "Sweet Apple Acres will become several times more efficient than it is now." Macintosh frowned. "Now hold on, Rich... that there farm is our home. It's been in our family for generations! We can't jus' sell it to ya!" His throat was a bit sore from the exertion, but he felt it warranted. Filthy chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, Macintosh, you misunderstand. We aren't buying Sweet Apple Acres from you. We're asking to be made co-owners!" He looked towards his own family. "I know how important family and tradition are, believe me..." Once more, he turned his attention to the Apples, holding his hooves out. "... The farm would simply be owned by two parties rather than the Apple Family alone. If you like, you could even keep the house." Big Mac frowned. "I'm sorry... but, that's our land..." his voice was beginning to crack, much to his chagrin. "We've put a lot of love, sweat, and blood into it. My pa was born on that farm, an' he had hoped to-" Big Mac stopped and winced. Everypony thought he might have gotten emotional from the mention of his father, though the truth was that he was simply pushing his throat too hard; a fact that Filthy was quick to catch on to. "Teacup?" A butler stepped next to Big Mac, carrying a glass on a tray. Big Mac took it and drank it down, feeling most of the pain ebb away, sighing in relief. "Thanks..." He turned his attention back to Filthy. "... An' he had hoped to die there in his ripe old age." He sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't jus' hand that farm over to ya..." Filthy nodded. "I understand... but please, at least hear me out? You will not just be paid a small sum, my friends. You will receive half of all the profits Sweet Apple Acres makes." Filthy held a hoof towards his family. "Your family could be given the best care money can buy, education that most ponies would give up limbs for. You wouldn't have to worry every night about thieves assaulting your property, or live in fear that one day you'll push yourself too hard... you'll never want for anything again." Big Mac sighed. "Rich... I really can't..." Filthy Rich simply frowned somewhat at Macintosh, nodding, his expression still tempered by a strong business acumen. "Alright. What if I made an offer? Everything else stands, unchanged... but if you agree, you will receive payment to honor our deal." Filthy pulled a piece of paper from seemingly nowhere, and a quill, and began writing. "Rich" said Big Mac, frowning, "I appreciate what you're doin', but-" Filthy passed the note to Big Mac, who looked at it, and his eyes shot wide open. "Whoa..." Granny leaned in to peak at the paper, her eyes bugging out. "Oh... my poor heart..." She froze for a few seconds, before Big Mac gave her chest a little strike. She blinked a few times, then smiled. "Okay, I'm back." "What is it? I want to see!" Braeburn tried to lean in, and Big Mac passed the note to him. He looked at it, and his eyes shot open. "That is a lot of zeroes..." "Indeed..." Filthy Rich smiled, clearly confident in himself. "And that is just the initial investment on my part. Afterwards, you'll receive 50% of all the money your farm makes. Your farm will be upgraded to increase production several fold. This business move will benefit both of our families, giving you the reward your family deserves for all its hard work, and giving the Riches a chance to better invest in the products we've been selling, rather than idly buying it and selling it second hoof." Macintosh turned to his family, lost. "I... I don't know..." He looked to Granny Smith, who looked at him with uncertainty in her eyes. 'Granny practically built that farm... heck, she practically built Ponyville. Could I really do that to 'er...?' Big Mac stared at the note. 'But... that is a lot of money... We could repair all the damages to the house... heck, we could add to the house, make it bigger... I could get Granny that new hip she needs so badly... Apple Bloom could go to college.... I could... I could...' Big Mac placed a hoof over his throat, stroking it gently. '... I might even be able to fix this...' At the sight of him rubbing his throat, Granny's gaze softened, and she smiled. "Big Mac... if you really want to...." Macintosh looked to her, and then to Rich. 'We could live much better lives... longer even...' He looked down at the note once more. 'But we'd lose the only home we've ever known... the only home my pa ever knew... everything our family worked for would be commercial... the soul would be gone...' Big Mac frowned, setting the piece of paper on the table. "Rich... I..... I think I need some time to consider this... this is all too much too soon..." His voice was scratching up once more, so he was quick to get a sip from the glass he had been given earlier. Filthy smiled and nodded. "Of course. Take all the time you need." He sat back in his chair some, chuckling. "As a business stallion, I entirely understand your uncertainty. The offer will remain on the table for the foreseeable future, so please, take your time." Macintosh sighed a bit, feeling that statement relieve a lot of his fears. 'At least that gives me time to talk with Applejack about all this before I make any decisions...' "Until then," said Filthy, holding his hooves in the air and clopping them together twice in rapid succession. "Let us eat!" A door nearby immediately swung open, with several stallions stepping into the dining hall pushing tray tables and carrying platters. Several platters were set on the tables before them, and as their tops were removed, the Apples' eyes nearly bulged at the banquet before them. There were various foods that seemed like fancier cousins of foods they already knew; daisy sandwiches with little tooth picks sticking from them, salads with nearly any vegetable you could want in them... there were even other foods that Big Mac had never seen before, but seemed delicious nonetheless. Everypony had a bowl of soup set before them, and each was given a bib, who then placed it in their shirts to hang and protect their clothes from filth-based harm. Apple Bloom stared at hers a moment. "You put it on your chest to protect your cloths," said Diamond Tiara, with no attempt to hide the annoyance in her voice. Apple Bloom fumed, glaring across the table at the other filly. "I knew that!" She humphed, sticking the bib in the neck of her dress and letting it hang, though it still looked a bit sloppy. Big Mac chuckled. 'Guess I never did teach Apple Bloom proper dinin' etiquette. Gotta work on that... never know if, worse comes to worse, she'll have to take over...' The servants gathered various foods, setting them on the plates before the Apple Family, making sure everypony got to sample a little of everything. After they finished their work and stepped aside, waiting for further orders, Filthy smiled, clopping his hooves together once more. "Alright everypony... dig in!" Big Mac picked up half of a daisy sandwich and hummed; it seemed like something else was on it, though he couldn't tell what. 'What's a daisy sandwich if you put stuff other than the daisy?' He gave it a sniff, noting that it definitely didn't smell bad. He took a tentative bite, and his eyes widened. 'Wow! That's delicious!' He continued eating, remembering his manners and not making a pig of himself. Braeburn was showing no such courtesy; he was quick to begin stuffing food into his face, probably not even having the time to truly savor it. He stopped with a swat from Granny, slowing his pace and eating in a manner considerably less disturbing. They sampled all the meals, and ate their soup; some of it was not so good, but others were amazing. Eventually, they had finished their food, and Big Mac patted his stomach. "That was delicious..." "I do hope you saved room for desert!" Filthy grinned, clopping his hooves together. More trays were brought in; one had a big, delicious cake on it. Another was like a huge gravy boat, but filled with ice cream of all flavors with chocolate all over it, as well as a few cakes and cookies. Apple Bloom's eyes widened, her mouth watering, as did Braeburn's. "Excuse me?" Everypony turned to Nightingale, who blushed at the sudden attention, but retained her composure. "If I could, I would like a moment to speak with Macintosh?" Big Mac blinked a few times, clearly confused. Granny gave him a slight nudge with her forehoof, and he sighed. "Alright." Big Mac stood from his seat, nodding to everypony, before heading to the other end of the table where he met up with Nightingale, who offered him a smile. Ever the courteous stallion, he smiled back, and the two made their way out into the hall. They walked in silence for a while. Big Mac tried to remain professional, though he would occasionally glance at a random painting or a statue or an antique suit of armor. "Macintosh, I wish to start by saying that I thank you for coming. It means a lot to my uncle." "Of course" said Big Mac with a nod. "We're like family, the Apples and the Riches." "Indeed..." said the mare, coming to a stop to look out a nearby window. Macintosh himself stopped next to her, looking out into what seemed to be a garden. "If it weren't for the Apples, the Riches likely wouldn't be where they are today. We owe a lot of our fortune to you; more even than what my uncle has offered you." Macintosh didn't know if he would agree to that, but he chose instead to let her continue talking. "This entire proposal was my idea, you see. It was I who convinced Uncle this was a good idea, although he took very little convincing..." She smiled and giggled a bit. "If anything, he seemed like he'd wished he'd thought of it years ago." "It's a mighty generous proposal..." Big Mac frowned a bit. 'Please don't try to make me choose now. I was really countin' on that extra time...' "Indeed," Nightingale nodded and sighed. "... You know... my Uncle speaks well of you. He's told me about a lot of things... about your family... about... well..." She frowned a bit. "... Please forgive me for saying... but even about the loss of your parents..." Macintosh retained his stoic expression, but opted not to respond either. "... But he's also told me about how fair you are, and how sensible you are when it comes to not just work, but your family. He hides it well... but I want you to know, this is not just a business venture for my Uncle. He truly cares about your family." Macintosh lowered his gaze, feeling a little guilt in him; he had to admit, he rarely considered the Rich family. To hear that he might actually care about them? It made him feel as if he had not truly appreciated what they had. "... I can see it in your eyes... you're a strong, brave pony..." She smiled a bit, and Macintosh turned to face her, her eyes gazing into his. "I can tell, just by looking at you... you'd do anything for love. And that is why I know this is a difficult decision we ask you to make... because either way... you feel you will sacrifice that love." She gently placed a hoof on his cheek, her eyes never leaving his. "... I will not ask you to take his offer... I will only ask that you at least consider it..." Macintosh simply stared into her eyes, entranced. He wanted to respond, to say something. He didn't know how. Any word he might say disappeared as soon as it came to him. The two ponies continued to gaze into each others' eyes for what felt like an eternity. 'She's so beautiful. So lovely. I don't think I've ever seen a prettier mare.' Slowly, both ponies began to lean forward. 'What am I doing? This isn't me. I've never done this before.' Their lips trembled, drawing closer. He could feel the warmth of her body radiating. 'Why can't I stop myself? Why don't I want to?' Trembling lips pressed together. Big Mac closed his eyes. 'They're so soft...' It was as if the entire world stopped mattering to him. All he could focus on was her. She gently put her forelegs up over his shoulders and around his neck, and pressed into the kiss. 'She's so warm...' Lips parted, and he felt urged to let his tongue mingle with hers. 'When's the last time I kissed somepony like this...? Has it been that long...?' He wrapped his own forelegs around her waist, placing his hooves on her back, gently stroking it. 'She smells like strawberries.' The two ponies broke the kiss, and Big Mac stared at the mare in a daze, his eyes blinking lazily. Nightingale was blushing madly, but smiling nonetheless. She gave his hoof a tug, and he let her lead him through the hall again, but this time taking him up some stairs. He followed numbly. 'Am I really doing this? I don't think I've ever been so... what's the word? Entranced? Captured maybe? I've never been so captured by a mare before...' They reached the top, and she continued to lead him down the hall, up to the third door. She gently opened it, and he stepped inside with her; it was a bedroom. There was a closet, likely filled with only the best dress for a mare, a vanity with a large mirror, but of anything else in there, the only thing that stood out at the moment was where she was leading him next. To a large bed. Once more, their lips met, and his tongue readily danced with hers. She fell backwards, pulling him with her, her legs wrapped around his hips. She pulled him against her, enough that he could feel every contour of her body pressed against his. He was lost, kissing deeper as she hastily undid the buttons to his waistcoat and shirt, throwing them open and letting her hooves caress his barrel and his back. 'Is this... is this love?' She tugged on his bandanna, and he felt it fall from him. '... NOPE!' Big Mac suddenly jumped back, grabbing his bandanna mid-drop, tumbling off the bed and rolling over until he could stand upright. He panted and heaved, holding the green cloth up against his neck, staring at the mare, clearly confused, with a few traces of other emotions (and needs) rushing through him. Nightingale panted a bit herself, staring at him, wide-eyed. "I-I'm sorry, d-did I do somethin wrong?" "N-no... nope..." Big Mac shook his head, feeling his heart beating like it might break out of his chest. "I... I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me..." 'N-no.. no, it's... it's quite alright..." The mare coughed a bit, shaking her head and working herself off the bed. She sat upright and used her hooves to try to straighten out her somewhat ruffled gown. "I got carried away too. I'm afraid we're both a little guilty on this one..." Big Mac sighed, feeling a little guilt taken from him. "I'm sorry... I-I've never... I'm not usually so impulsive..." Nightingale simply giggled and blushed. "Thanks... I take that as a compliment..." She gulped a bit, nervously rubbing a hoof against her foreleg. "... M... Macintosh, I guess I should be straight forward... but ever since my Uncle first told me about you... you sounded like a knight in shining armor to me... and ever since I first met you, I admit I find you... well..." She stopped, blushing more. "... Quite attractive. And... I... I hope I'm not being too forward... but..." She gulped again, looking as if she was working up her courage. "P... Please... lay with me tonight?" Once more, Macintosh was conflicted. His heart knew that he had just met her, and that he barely knew her; it was entirely possible that, in a few days' time, he'd hate her. But she seemed so nice. His brain knew that given her quickness, there was that slight chance she was in heat, and that if he did give in, the Riches and the Apples would become closer than Filthy likely intended (or would, in fact, appreciate), though it'd certainly make Granny happy. Then other parts of him started throwing in their two bits, and while he knew better, they were very persuasive. He took a deep breath to calm himself, and sighed. "I-I can't..." Nightingale frowned. "... Why not...? Am... am I not pretty enough...?" "Nope!" Big Mac frowned, then fumbled over his words. "I-I mean eeyup! I mean..." He winced a bit, feeling the ache in his throat as well as hearing some of his voice disappearing. "... Y... You're very beautiful... Possibly the single most beautiful mare I've ever seen... but I... I just met you, an' I don't think it'd be right... or smart..." Nightingale stared at him a few moments, seeming as though she were trying to process just what he was saying. She sighed a bit. "Yes... yes, I understand. Don't worry, I really do understand." She smiled at him, shaking her head and using her hooves to straighten out her mane. "My apologies... I've... I don't think I've ever been so attracted to a stallion before..." She blushed. "You're... quite handsome." Macintosh blushed a bit himself, smiling some. "Thanks..." he said, though his voice was quite raspy by this point. Nightingale stepped close to him. "Do you... think we could... maybe... court?" Macintosh blinked a few times, somewhat surprised by the idea of actually going on a date. He didn't know what to say. 'On one hand, she's cute as a button and seems friendly enough. On the other, she seems sexually aggressive...' He stopped with that second thought, frowning a bit at himself. 'Wait... is... is that a bad thing?' Macintosh noticed her looking at him with hopeful, expecting eyes. He frowned a bit. "N-not right now..." He shook his head, looking aside a bit, feeling somewhat ashamed of how quiet his voice had gotten. 'I need a drink or I won't be able to say a word...' Nightingale, however, simply smiled, though she seemed sad. "... I see...." She stepped closer, looking up into his eyes, and him back at hers. He hoped she wouldn't try again, because he didn't know how much strength he had to resist a second time. She leaned forward, and pressed her lips against his. It lingered, but then she pulled back. "... You're a very strong stallion. Perhaps I was too hasty. But... much like my Uncle's offer, mine remains on the table." She smiled. "Mayhaps I'll try again at a later date. Who knows." She turned towards the door, trotting to it and putting a hoof on the knob, opening it, but stopped and turned to face Big Mac. "Also... I hope not to sound rude... but can we keep this encounter a secret?" Once more, Nightingale blushed. "Not that I am ashamed of you... it's simply that if word spreads around, ponies might think... poorly of me." Big Mac simply smiled and nodded. Lacking a voice momentarily, he placed a hoof over his lips and made a slow 'zipping' motion, and nodded to her. After fixing his clothes and putting his bandanna back on, Macintosh and Nightingale made their way back downstairs, and down the hall to the dining hall. Once they opened the doors, both ponies were surprised to find that bits of various foods were scattered throughout the room, and that the ponies inside were currently locked in a food fight, hiding behind the table and tossing food at each other. Braeburn, Granny, and Filthy Rich were all laughing, though Apple Bloom and Diamond Tiara seemed to be venting a lot of frustration. The butlers, ever dutiful, stood nearby, in their usual dignified postures, holding platters and treys to block the food debris. "What in the world...!?" shouted Nightingale, though she had a big smile on her face and seemed to be trying not to laugh. Immediately, everypony stopped. "Oh! Nighty! Macintosh! Welcome back!" Filthy Rich laughed, wiping some cake from his face, though smearing some more on it in turn. "Long story short, somepony threw a biscuit, and it all went to Tartarus from there!" "Only cause I was rainin' it down on yer head!" Granny grinned wide. "I'm still th' food fightin' champion!" Big Mac smirked, exchanging glances with Nightingale, both laughing a bit at their families. The stillness of the area was always something of comfort. The birds flew about, gathering food for themselves and their young, keeping an eye out for potential predators or competitors for food. Bees buzzed, collecting pollen from even the more unusual flowers in the area. The wind blew, waving branches and leaves about carelessly. And the water was still. Zecora sat, balancing on a bamboo pole on one hoof, her eyes closed. 'The universe in perfect harmony.' She focused on herself. On the world around her. On all things. She was one with everything, and everything was one with her. In the greater picture, she was but a spec; an inconsequential spec of dust in the winds of time and reality. This did not bother her; this was as it should be. For in accepting this, she found peace. In that peace, she found wisdom. And in that wisdom, she found happiness. Then, the bamboo pole snapped. Zecora fell, but gracefully landed on her hooves, staring wide-eyed at her bamboo pole. It did not just break; the middle was splintered, as if it had been broken by great force. She stared, wide-eyed at the image before her, taking a step back, her mouth hanging. "Oh woe is me... is this an ill omen I see...?" The zebra took a few cautious steps forward, prodding the broken pole with a forehoof carefully. Nothing out of the ordinary seemed to happen, though her eyes remained focused on it as if it had started talking to her. She backed away once more, then turned about and, in a brisk trot, made her way towards the path to Ponyville. "We may all be in grave danger! There's dark magic a-hoof! Can things get stranger? TO BE CONTINUED...