Country Wedding (Pt. II)
Mingling, a part of all social gatherings.
Ponies were everywhere, the farm was absolutely infested with them. Ponies of every type and sort littered the farm grounds, some were dressed up and looking their best, others put in an effort to look better than usual, but most treated it like any other day. The music was a soft quartet of string instruments that Pinkie had procured, a lone cellist with three violins offering a soothing and delightful atmosphere to the back ground. The perfect background music for mingling.
Macintosh hated mingling.
He'd already received a million congratulations on his accomplishment. He was graceful and polite about accepting, of course, but he couldn't get a moments peace! Introversion was not his friend this day.
But still, he fought the urge to run off into the western orchard and hide away until they sent the search parties to remind him that it was his own wedding. After another bout of "thank ya kindly" for some well wishers, he looked for some more familiar faces in his life to ease the stress.
Spike was speaking with Applebloom and Scootaloo, laughing about something or another. Shining Armor was with Twilight, Rarity and Fluttershy, all of them speaking in quiet whispers and looking back at town, Granny was busy chatting it up with a black maned, charcoal grey earth pony mare as she sat on a chair with a cello in her hooves, and Blade...
Blade was busy following around Pinkie Pie, carrying refreshments upon his back and helping the mare to restock on all the consumed punch and virgin champeign. Pinkie payed him little attention, which made Mac feel a twinge of sympathy, but he seemed happy enough to help the party pony out.
Mac couldn't tell where the pony got all the energy she needed for this. Every time he saw her, she was doing something other than enjoying the festivities. Though, to be fair, the most fun that happened in this part of the farm was a rather lewd joke followed by impolite levels of laughter. Not exactly her style.
One pony he did notice not being present was his sister. Mac furrowed his brow and looked around to see if she was just out of view, but no matter where he looked, he couldn't find her.
'Don't worry, Mac. She'll be here.'
The pony hoped so, he didn't want her to miss one of the most important days of his life because of such foolishness.
"Hey Macintosh!" Called a pony he vaguely remembered but only met once. The mare was a deep orange, jovial, and appeared almost drunkenly happy. She placed an unassuming foreleg around his neck and stood beside him, forcing Mac to summon the remainder of his patience. "Good on ya for tying Annabelle down."
"Umm, thanks." Mac frowned, looking down at the mare. "Sorreh, Ah don't recall yer name."
"Yes sirree! Anna sure is somethin' else." His antagonist said wistfully. "You're a lucky stallion, ya know that? I mean, with all the ponies she's been with, she choose you! Not surprising really, she never really cared for circus life, especially with how awkward things got after she slept with Red Rover."
"Slept with who?" He asked, a small bit of curiosity growing in his gut.
The orange pegasus nodded. "Uh-huh! You see that stallion over there?" She pointed to a large, really large crimson unicorn." Spent the night with him a few times, same with that stallion over there, that's Fletch. Real heart throb, if you know what I mean. They used to date a while ago."
A sense of frustration and fear began welling in Mac's chest as the mare beside him continued to point and list off stallions in the crowd who she claimed Annabelle had sexual relations with. He kept silent both out of a want to not start trouble between the families and a vage, sick sense of curiosity.
The number, it just kept climbing. First two, then three then five, seven, eight, ten, twelve, and she didn't look anywhere close to done.
The stallion suddenly felt very sick as the revelation washed over him like a sickly tidle wave. Fifteen? Annabelle had sex with fifteen stallions? No, not Annabelle, not the love of his life, there must be some kind of mistake here. She was a loving and extroverted sort, sure, but to give of herself so freely? He couldn't believe that, he wouldn't believe that.
"But hey, I gotta go, it was good talking to you." The mare said, patting his back. "Congratulations again, by the way. Hey Fixer, don't drink all the punch!" She scolded a young colt and walked off, leaving Mac to struggle against her words.
Was it true? Annabelle had said she'd been with another stallion before him, but that many? Fifteen? Why hadn't she told him about this?
'I don't think that she was telling the truth.'
Yea, me neither.
Mac wanted to believe he didn't believe it, but there was a small and nagging doubt in the back of his mind that pushed his thoughts to cynicism. What if she had been, though? The buttermilk earth pony didn't speak much of her old love life, aside from telling Macintosh about that one coltfriend she had. Matter of fact, she never much talked about any of her relationships with the carnival ponies. Whenever the two would talk, it was usually about his family, doings, or farm work.
Why was that?
'Did you ever ask?'
He did, and he remembered her either giving short winded answers or just dismissing the questions outright. Was that the reason why? Because she felt guilty about sleeping with so many ponies? Was that the reason she left the circus all together? The apple pony always believed it was because of Annabelle's dislike of her father that she left, and that she wanted to be with Macintosh himself, but was that true? Or was her reason for leaving more to do with her relationships with the rest of the carnies?
'Mac, Mac! You're reading too much into this.'
Was he?
Macintosh wasn't the most worldly of ponies in Equestria, but during his travels around the country, he did come to find that his values were, what some considered, very traditional. Sex was a sacred act, an act committed between two ponies who loved each other, who knew each other and both respected and admired one another enough to share such an intimate act.
To him, one who gave their body away so freely was immoral and of low self respect. Sin and he had debated a little on the subject, but not really, since the Federalist was somewhere along the same mind, his only concern was that the government shouldn't try to legislate such morality in to law. Not that it really mattered if somepony disagreed with his beliefs or not. They were his.
If Annabelle was a floozy before, why would she stop now? What if she wasn't the kind of mare who could be faithful? What if she was seeing another stallion behind his back... What if the foal in her belly wasn't even his?
'Okay, you're done thinking about that. Annabelle isn't like that, you know this, Macintosh.'
But what about what that mare said?
'Here's a thought, maybe she was lying?'
Lying? Why would she do that?
'Because she thinks Annabelle is prettier than her and she did it out of spite? I don't know, mares are weird like that, but I do know that Annabelle would never cheat on you. She loves you, dude. She was willing to fight Shade to protect you, she chose you over her own brother, if you remember correctly. What more proof do you need?'
Relief began to trickle out the tension, there was no way Mac could argue that point. Even his most suspicious and cynical mind had no retort to that. Still, the fact that his mind would automatically go such a dark place in pertinence to Annabelle's past did show the pony just how little he really knew her.
Had this not been a pregnant wedding, he'd have never considered such a large step in their relationship.
"You look like you could use a drink." Spike said as he walked up to the stallion, holding a pair of cups in his clawed hands.
Macintosh gave the drake a grateful smile and took the offered beverage. "Ehe, thanks."
"Feeling nervous, buddy?" Spike asked, taking a sip. Mac nodded.
How could he not be nervous? Even if what the mare said wasn't true, he was about to enter a most sacred of institutions and bonds. He was also surrounded by at least sixty ponies all around with only half being his family, a dragon out in the west field, a sister who wasn't present at his big day, a foal who was having doubts about his parenting skills, and another foal on the way who would be stuck with him no matter what... yea, nervous was a good word for it.
A small groan was heard as Blade slumped up to the two. The green earth pony looked absolutely exhausted and miserable, small beads of sweat dripping from his mane.
"Blade? Y'all righ' pardner?"
"She doesn't stop, Mac." Blade wheezed, looking back at Pinkie, who was bouncing and pronking around happily without a care in the world. Blade reached up and grabbed the apple pony by his blazer and pulled him uncomfortably close. "The apple fritters, the apple fritters cannot be this important... Pinkie, she acts like the world will end if even one platter has one too many things missing from it!"
Mac felt his nervousness shift to mild discomfort as the green stallion pressed his forehead against Macintosh's own, his eyes growing wide and desperate over the arbitrary and almost insane demands of one Pinkamena Diane Pie. The punch glasses had to be, at least, in ten by ten rows with an ideal of ten by twenty. Anything less was a "party emergency". A colt or filly didn't have a smile on their face? Nope, that wouldn't do, gotta find a way to make them smile! Party favors, a ripped streamer, a popped balloon, depleting reserves of cups, a misplaced blade of grass! It never bucking ended!
"And worst of all-" Blade paused, looking back at her again, "-she hasn't even broken a sweat! Look at her! This ain't natural, man. She's on something, she's on something and if I keep this up, I'm going to need it too. I thought wedding organizers had easy jobs, dude, I'll take the mill any day of the week over this shit!"
Finding himself leaning back in a feeble and fruitless attempt to gain some space, Macintosh's eyes looked any where but the twitching face of his newest friend as he bore down over him.
Luckily, Spike came to his rescue and politely pride the stressed pony off, leading him away and recommending he sit down for a while.
'Well... that happened.'
Macintosh straightened out his coat. The interaction may have been a little disturbing, but it did manage to distract him for a little bit.
"So, Twily, how are things working out with the new City Council Arbiter? Princess Celestia wanted me to ask about that." Cadance said, looking down at the Unicorn.
The librarian and Spike shared a look, both pressing their lips. "Umm, well, she's..."
"A total pain in the plot?" Spike suggested, earning a a few curious stares
"Spike!" Twilight wined. The dragon turned to her and gave her a flat look, daring her to argue his words. He'd observed how she operated, using emotional logic and lobbying for her own brand of laws to the city council because she couldn't pass any herself. The drake had set in on a few City Council meetings and assisted Justice on more than one occasion looking over some of the most unnecessarily long winded, but minuscule consequence legislation, his opinion on the matter being some kind of minority voice in her mind.
"You're working as her assistant?" Cadance asked, looking at Spike. "I didn't know that."
"Well, it's not exactly something I brag about."
"You think she's doing a poor job?"
Spike took a sip of his punch and nodded. She was a tribalist and a sexist against unicorns and mare, she claimed that she wasn't because: since Equestria was a matriarchy, mares couldn't be discriminated against, because sexism is prejudice plus power, same with her tribalism with unicorns, believing that their magic made them of a "higher class" to pegasi and earth ponies.
Spike didn't know how many times he tried to point out the hypocrisy of Justice's own racism and bigotry to her, since she claimed to hate both, but it was like talking to a brick wall. A brick wall reinforced with concrete and enchanted to be the ultimate immovable object.
He recounted their experience with the mayor that very morning about the proposed legislation banning public magical practice. Shining questioned why such a thing would need to be done, prompting Twilight to explain her transfiguration mis hap a week ago. Apparently somepony made a complaint about the matter to city hall and prompted a discussion about the dangers of magical usage in public areas and the threats and risks associated.
"I guess I can kinda see the logic in that." Shining admitted, rubbing his chin. "Still, banning it out right seems a little extreme."
"The justification is the mental trauma that it could cause foals and other ponies." Twilight said, blushing with embarrassment. "I changed the bird back, so no real damage was done."
Spike nodded in agreement, it was just a little power grab by city council to make themselves feel important. He'd likely get Justice to veto the legislation before the mayor had to sign off on it.
Mac sat in his room for a few moments of peace and quiet. He felt his muscles growing tense and the small pit in his stomach gaining weight, adding to his already insurmountable feeling of sickness.
He had fifteen minutes until he needed to be at the alter and wait for Annabelle. Such a span of time felt like too long and not long enough at the same time some how. He was nervous, hot yet cold, his mind was a buzz with too many things to keep track of. Annabelle, Applejack, Scootaloo, Granny, Spike, Applebloom, the new foal, Blade, Brute, The dark orange mare... all of them swirling around in his mind as he tried to collect himself for his part to play.
It was so bad he couldn't even hear his inner voice begging him to calm down.
He took a deep breath tried to relax. It helped a little and the stallion repeated the process a few more times, feeling the tension in his body leave with each exhale.
At least until a knock at the door boomed through his ear, the voice outside bringing back every last bit of stress he'd just expelled.
"Mac? Can Ah come in?"
It was Applejack. He took a moment and called out to her to enter.
The mare looked stunning, wearing a simple and elegant green gown. "Hey pardner, ya doin' alrigh'?" She asked
Silently, Macintosh nodded, feeling a great deal of both comfort and relief at his sister's presence. She pushed the door open all the way and wandered in.
Applejack stopped a few feet away and sighed. "Look, brother, Ah'm gonna come righ' out n' say it. Ah'm not happy withcha." She said seriously, making Macintosh internally cringe. "Ya broke yer word tah me. Ya straight looked me in the eye n' told me that y'all weren't gone do no more big things like that, n' ya did."
The stallion pressed his lips and nodded. Part of him wanted her to hold off the plot chewing until after the wedding was over, but another part of him was happy and relieved to get this matter settled here and now.
"It hurt, Macintosh. It hurt to know that ya lied like that. It makes me wonder if'n ya changed fer the better or fer the worst when ya left home... N' right now, Ah don't know if Ah can trust ya er not."
Mac felt his heart leap into his chest, that hurt. It hurt and the stallion felt anger follow the pain. After everything he'd done for her, how could she dare not trust him? Yea, he'd made a mistake, but he did look after her during that deal with Soarin. He protected her and held her as she cried over what that bastard did, where did she get off acting like he was untrustworthy?
'Because that has nothing to do with this and you know it.'
He felt a hoof on his shoulder and looked up into the emerald robes of Applejack. "As angry as Ah am wicha, yer still mah brother n' Ah love ya. Ah know ya did it fer the right reasons, n'... well, it'll take time fer me tah trust ya again, but Ah jest want ya ta know that Ah fergive ya."
Mac released a breath he didn't realize he was holding, keeping himself turned away as his sister continued to speak.
"Ah spent the night with Annabelle n' her ma after she found me in town. We was talkin' 'bout things, farm life n' whatnot, her influence on ya n' yer decision tah take in Scootaloo. N' then she told me what happened to Scootaloo's parents..." She paused, her hoof trembling with emotion. "Ah understand why ya did what ya did, Big Macintosh. Part o' me is a little proud that yer willin' ta take responsibility of a foal that ain't yers, but next time, can ya just talk to us? Ya know Ah wouldn't have said no."
"Ah know." Mac replied, finally finding his voice. "Ah jest... when Ah found out 'bout that... Ah felt like... Ah don't know. Ah jest wasn't thinkin'."
Applejack walked around the bed and Macintosh got a proper look at her. She made a movement that made him cringe but soon found his fear unjustified as his sister hugged him.
"Ah know, ya were just tryin'a do good. N' despite yer lyin', ya did." She whispered.
Macintosh slowly returned the embrace, gently hugging his sister and finding both comfort and strength from her. He knew she was still angry, but it felt good to know that she still loved him, that she was still here when he needed her the most.
Applejack pulled back and looked him in the eye, giving a gentle smile. "Yer my brother, n' fer better or fer worse, Ah love ya, Mac."
"Ah love ya too, AJ."
The two hugged again, cherishing the moment as their bond reconnected in a way Macintosh didn't even notice was severed. He missed Applejack, he hadn't realized it until then, but he barely spoke with her outside of doing farm work or at dinner. She'd become less of his sibling and more of a room mate who he seldom interacted with unless necessity called for it. The same with Applebloom and his Granny...
He resolved to fix that once the wedding was over.
"Ahem." Both turned to find Spike standing the door way, looking guilty for interupting the moment. "Sorry guys, but Mac... it's time."
Sitting on a pasture about three fourths of a mile from the festivities, Sin observed the wedding take place from afar.
The Federalist had stopped by every day for the past month to check the grounds out and see if the wedding would happen that day or not, part of him feared that Macintosh might hold the wedding elsewhere, but most of him was confident that, as farm folk, he'd have it on Sweet Apple Acres.
'Looks like you were right.'
Sad thing is that, even if he wasn't on the run from the law, Sin would still be a good distance away from the festivities. He felt bad for Mac, the apple pony hated crowds just as much as he did, but this was the fate of all who decided they wanted to enter wedlock.
'Kid's glad you came, says he wishes we could be closer though.'
And I wish I could go back to the Federation and stop my brother and father from whatever they're planning instead of venturing to some town to start a new life. Ain't life a bitch?
It wasn't just him being a smart ass either, Sin felt a small resentment for the fact that he would no longer be able to return home and, despite everything that happened to him, save his home from his family's company. That was, of course, assuming what he'd been told by Mandylion and Ace was true. Though, even if it wasn't, there was revenge to consider. Revenge for Zell for his unjust murder, revenge for all the members of the senate who'd been blackmailed and threatened into complacency by Triple M. activity. Hell, he could probably kill them both six times over and find enough evidence of wrong doing to justify a seventh.
'Innocent until proven guilty becoming too inconvenient for you?'
He couldn't objectively prove that it was Triple M.'s work on Zell's death anymore, the physical evidence for that was long gone, and assasination records wouldn't be found, but Malich's word was proof enough for him.
Not that it mattered anyway, since he was all but a slave to his emotions at the threat of a mind parasite infecting his thoughts and afflicting his dreams and memories should he disobey, the idea was rendered moot. It pained him to say, but Sin was stuck in the old world whether he liked it or not.
'Aw, come on. It's not that bad, is it? I get that you want to get revenge and all, but you'd literally be throwing your life away. Is it really so bad to try to find a life of happiness here?'
At the threat of coercion from my own head that I have no means of protecting myself against?
'Yea, well, you don't really have a good track record of acting in your own best interests, emotionally speaking.'
That's what I thought.
'Well... technically speaking, it is still "you" who's holding yourself up to this standard, so it's not aggression so much as a vice?'
Sin had considered this on a philosophical level but abandoned it half way through. He didn't have the answer and honestly, he kinda didn't want one.
Instead, he busied himself by studying the farm down below and decerned who all was present. Even as far away as he was, he could still make out most of the ponies present, he recognized Twilight and a few of her friends, Macintosh and Spike of course, Blade was present surprisingly, helping Pinkie keep up with the festivities. Rainbow Dash was chatting with someone he didn't recognize, Rarity, a pony he didn't see often was there and there with Fluttershy. No Discord, though, which was a good thing; the draconequus, somehow or another, would have likely found him out and exposed his presence.
'Hey, where's Mac's sister?'
That was another mare missing, Sin frowned thoughtfully as he considered where she may have been. He didn't know her that well, but he understood the Apple family to be very traditional and found her lack of presence an oddity. Not that he could do much about that, though.
Something began happening down at the farm, and Sin turned his attention to it. Ponies began to quiet down and Macintosh and Cadance made way to the Alter, with Annabelle taking her place down at the opposite end of the isle, accompanied by, who he assumed to be, her mother.
Sin watched with a smile as a few violins began to play, beginning the bride's march down the isle. Though subtle movement once again drew his attention away from the scene. He found a most peculiar sight to his left, a lone, camoflauge cloaked mare was sneaking in through the western orchard.
Now, initially, Sin would have thought the mare a straggler from the wedding who'd have gotten lost and wore some unconventional clothing, something he was in no position to criticize, though what put him on edge was the small crossbow that he saw dangling from her cloak.
'Well, well. What do we have here?'
Well, my good Critic, I would say that is a mare on a mission to ruin my good friend's wedding.
'By Jove, Sin, I think you might be onto something. I say, if I'm not mistaken, that crossbow makers her look suspiciously like an assassin.'
Indeed sir, now death and chaos may have been prevalent at the last wedding in which I've attended, so I could be wrong here, but I don't think it's customary in Equestria for matrimony to include such things.
'No sir, I do not believe it is.'
Well then, by logical follow through, what we are currently observing is an afront to the festivities, it's rude enough that she's crashing a wedding, but then she intends to kill someone present? Such attrocious behavior is simply intolerable and requires immediate rectification, sir.
'Good show, old bean, quite right.'
Creeping low, his own crossbow slipped and pulled, with a makeshift trigger mechanism, Sin began to gain ground on the camo cloaked mare, ready to aim and fire if he needed to. She was obviously no trained assassin, her movements far to jerky, sudden stop and go, sudden stop and go. The kind of movement that attracted peripheral attention, instead of moving gracefully and fluidly. Her attention was in tunnel vision, looking straight ahead and taking in no notice of her surrounding, or his silent approach.
Just as she was about to go over a roving hill, the would be assassin crouched low and pulled off her crossbow, Sin taking care to silence his hoofsteps with an even slower approach, paying close attention to his shadow's position.
He was a foot behind her when she began limning up her shot, the pony a little too close to the event for Sin's liking. "Chancellor Puddinghead sends his regards, you bucking traitor."
Sin smirked as realization hit and leapt forward, his left hoof gripping her muzzle to silence her yelp of surprise, and his right smacking the crossbow down, the discharge of the bolt being sent harmlessly to the ground below.
"Puddinghead, you say?" He whispered sadistically, "What a coincidence, let's chat." He declared, pulling the struggling failed-hitpony down the bluff.