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Hearth's Warming Eve2,841 words
The Ghost of Hearth's Warming Past3,216 words
The Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Present4,936 words
The Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Future2,813 words
Hearth's Warming2,584 words

The Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Future

The Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Future

The sound and smell of cooking hit her before she could see anything. The misty nothing resolved into the kitchen of Golden Oaks Library, and Twilight’s worries fled to the back of her mind. Spike, several feet taller than she’d seen him last and sporting a little pair of wings, hummed as he worked at the stove. Her eyes roved the room, unsure where to focus as she took it all in.

Her modest table had been replaced by a long family-style one, stretching through the archway into the main room of the library. The seats were lined with a sea of faces: her friends so much the same, but so different, too. Fluttershy’s mane hung longer than she’d ever seen it, but running back from her face, no longer a shield from the world. Rainbow Dash and Rarity were dead ringers for themselves, if sporting a few extra lines around the eyes, and thinner cheeks. Pinkie Pie held no surprise, looking just like the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Present as they headed for the farm later in the day.

Next to each of them sat special someponies, and the only familiar face between them was Thunderlane holding hooves with Rarity. Twilight flitted from one to the next, catching snippets of conversation, bits of laughter. She grinned at them. They were all so happy, and curiosity about the ponies that brought her friends such happiness bubbled in her belly. She couldn’t wait to get to know these stallions and mares that would grow this close to her friends, and she couldn’t wait to make them friends of her own.

So many stories she wanted to know. She warred between puzzling out what she could from the conversation, or preserving the surprise for when she lived alongside those stories unfolding.

Her excitement lessened as she turned from face to face. She didn’t see herself or Applejack at the table. Five spots sat empty: one for Spike, one for herself, and three others. Applejack always struck her as the family type, and her curiosity burned brighter. She peered around the archway into the main library.

There she was, around a decade older, and perhaps a few inches taller still from her transformation to an alicorn, sitting by the fireplace with a book in front of her muzzle. Twilight smiled at herself and rolled her eyes, but the uneasiness didn’t leave. She walked through the table and over to her future self.

For several minutes, she heard conversation trickle over from her guests, while watching herself devour a book. Images of herself as a filly, surrounded by family but isolated in her own little world, sprung to mind, and she fought them off.

“I’m jumping to conclusions,” she muttered, pacing around her future form. “I like reading now and I don’t feel guilty doing it sometimes. Everypony’s allowed some time to themselves. I’m not…”

Twilight shook her head. “I’m reading too much into this. I’ve zoned out reading lots of times.” She circled her older self and scanned the pages. “Light adventure. I get pulled into those a lot, and it looks like I’m just getting to a good stopping point. Maybe when I finish the chapter…”

She watched herself finish and turn the page, launching into the next part. She groaned, looping around and casting an irritated glare back and forth from the table to herself. “I must be really zoned out. Somepony’ll have to snap me out of it, or—”

Laughter erupted from Rainbow Dash, tantalizingly familiar, but with a raspier quality. The reading Twilight’s ear flicked, and a crease formed in her brow, drawing the book closer, blocking out the dinner conversation.

Twilight gaped at herself. “…No. Stop it. Stop it!” Her horn lit up as she tried to wrest the book from her future self, but she grabbed nothing. She swung her hooves through the air, and through the book itself, trying to stomp it down. She sprawled on the floor.

“You’re missing it! You’re missing it again, stop it, stop it!” she screamed at herself. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in her hooves, twisting away from her future, from her betrayal. She lay on the floor, cringing at the laughter she was missing.

A hoof rubbed her shoulder. She sniffled and wiped her muzzle, looking up at the ghost. Dragging herself to her haunches, she cleared her throat, cast a bitter glare at herself, and turned back to the spirit. “Where is Applejack?”

The spirit smiled at her, and turned towards the door. As the ghost passed through, heading out into the snowy day, Twilight looked around the room again, at the faces of her friends, and herself off to the side, ignoring them. “…I’m not going back to that,” she promised. “Never again.”

Twilight turned, and followed the spirit out into the quiet evening of Ponyville.

The sun had set, and light poured into the street from homes full of other family dinners. They drifted past the occasional group, still wandering about the growing cold, singing songs and laughing together. Some buildings Twilight expected to see were gone, and empty lots had new homes and shops. The ten years or so of time showed growth in Ponyville, but much remained the same. It made her think about what else had changed, aside from herself. She pushed the discomfort away as they walked.

“I wonder why Applejack was running late,” she mused to the spirit, partly to fill the silence. “I saw the extra seats. Maybe she found somepony else, and he or she held them up? Maybe she has a foal?”

The ghost walked forward, offering Twilight no response. As they entered the orchard, the sky lightened as the sun moved backwards. Twilight tapped her chin. “You’re showing me something from earlier? Did something bad happen?”

Twilight sped to a trot, moving through snowcapped trees towards the farmhouse. A decade gone, the building looked much the same: new coat of paint here, replaced siding there, but a soothing constant she could rely on.

Twilight stepped through the door to her friend’s home. For all the same, a stark difference struck her immediately as her eyes fell upon the empty rocker by the fireplace. She shook her head, thinking it better to explore than assume, and wandered through the home. Big Macintosh was cleaning the kitchen counters, sliding a rag across the surface, while staring out the window. The years had been kind, and if Twilight didn’t know that years had passed since the last memory, she would’ve thought it could have been the same day. She climbed the stairs, and stared at the closed door to Applejack’s room. She went to the opposite side of the hall and looked in on the youngest Apple.

Apple Bloom’s room was a frozen image of foalhood: everything put neatly away, bed made up and barren, everything far too orderly. “Looks like she moved out,” Twilight muttered to herself. “Not that surprising; Apple Bloom would be about my age now.” She grinned to herself. “I wonder what she’s made of herself? I hope she’s still best friends with Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle.”

She skipped Big Mac’s room, and hesitated at Granny Smith’s. “…Do I want to know?” She took a deep breath and plunged through the wood. Plastic sheets covered the furniture, and Twilight bowed her head. “Ten years is a long time,” she told herself. “She was a great pony, and she lived a great life. I wonder how Applejack took it; family’s so important to her. I hope she had somepony to lean against. Whoever she ended up with would need to be strong for her when she needed it.”

She took a deep breath, and turned from the room, staring at Applejack’s door. “…Sure is quiet in this house now.”

As she took a tentative step forward, the knob to Big Macintosh’s room turned and the door flew open. Cheerilee stepped out, and Twilight’s jaw fell open. “…Cheerilee? That sly colt. I thought I’d seen the two of them around town together!” She giggled, grinning at Big Macintosh’s…girlfriend? Wife?

Cheerilee knocked on Applejack’s door. “It’s getting close to sundown, Applejack.”

“Right ya are, sis,” Applejack said through the door. Wife then, Twilight reasoned. “Thanks.”

Twilight shook her head forcefully as Cheerilee descended to the kitchen. “Guess it’s not that quiet.”

The door opened, Applejack stepped out, and Twilight couldn’t help smiling wider. The years had been kind to Applejack, too: her mane still bright and full, her face lineless. She sported some extra freckles on her cheeks and shoulders, and her already solid frame was a little bit thicker with muscle. Twilight cast a quick glance into Applejack’s room, then followed close as her friend went downstairs.

“Howdy, Mac, Cheer,” she called, and Twilight’s smile faltered. For all she looked the same, there was a vulnerability and sense of exhaustion to her voice. “I’m headin’ out to the supper in a few; you sure you’re gonna stay home?”

“Eeyup.” He tossed the washcloth in the sink, and turned to his sister. “Ya know what crowds’re like for me.”

“They ain’t crowds if’n ya know everypony. They set a place for ya both every year, ya know.”

“I know.” He sighed and took a seat by the table, slinging a hoof around Cheerilee, who leaned into the embrace. “An’ you know I don’t talk so fast. Ain’t nopony gonna mind me stayin’ home again.” He frowned. “An’ you know you’re welcome to stay if’n ya want: have a family supper again. I see how them things tire ya.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, waving a hoof. “You lovebirds earned your alone time tonight, and it ain’t that tirin’ for me.” Twilight’s brow knit. She could hear a bitterness in her friend’s voice: Applejack wanted out of the house, yet she was lying. The night would exhaust her and she knew it, but she needed to leave the two of them anyway.

“Is’at why you leave so early for ‘em?” He cast a piercing look at her, and Twilight watched her friend’s throat bob.

“I just like takin’ my time through the trees is all. Don’t you worry a lick about me.”

His frown deepened, but Cheerilee poked him in the side, whispering, “Leave her be.” He let out a breath and nodded.

“Anyway, I’m off; don’t y’all be waitin’ up for me.” She offered a half-hearted smile, and headed through the door.

Twilight followed, her mind racing. “Applejack’s room wasn’t set up for two ponies,” she muttered. “Applejack’s alone.” Her brow knit as her friend wandered off the path and into the orchards. “And she likes Cheerilee just fine, but I don’t think she likes living with them. Where’s she going?”

The meandering journey led Twilight away from the house and barns, out of sight and eventually out of earshot from anypony around. Applejack stopped and sat down.

Twilight was struck with the same sense of invasiveness she felt back at Applejack’s room in the previous memory. The desire to flee pulled at her, but she pressed forward, step after step to bring her friend’s face into view.

“Just gotta hold it together,” Applejack told herself. “Just gotta be all smiles, ‘cause they’re expectin’ me…” Twilight fell to her haunches, watching tears run down Applejack’s face.

Time fell away for a moment as Twilight tried to piece everything together, watching Applejack cry, having no way to comfort her, knowing it was her fault. When Twilight at last looked up through the dimness of the setting sun, the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Future stared back at her.

“She’s heartbroken,” Twilight breathed. “She…she never found anypony else, and just…held onto me from a distance…”

She turned to the shadow of Applejack, the vision of a far off Hearth’s Warming where she sat reading instead of seeing her friends, and Applejack sat in a field to cry before being around her. “Why?” she asked. “Why this?”

Anger boiled in her stomach, and she jumped to her hooves, snarling at the spirit. “I know the nature of these spells; they show one future out of many: one choice from dozens, but this…” She looked at Applejack. “This can’t be real. This can’t actually happen. Applejack’s too strong, too sure. She’s proud and stubborn, not…not this…”

She shook her head, denying the sight. “She’d find somepony else if she knew it wouldn’t work with me. She wouldn’t hide in her own house, hide from me.” She grit her teeth. “This can’t be what happens.”

As the words poured from her mouth, doubt nagged at her. She grimaced, unable to keep from voicing the idea. “…Unless she was so sure it was me she wanted she refused to move on, and her pride kept her from ever acting on it and risk being hurt.”

The scenario played through her head, and she cringed, hating the vision, fearful of the notion. Twilight was repulsed by the thought of Applejack cloistered away, nursing a broken heart, denying the pain and refusing to find an outlet where she could be hurt and vulnerable for once, instead of the pony everypony else depended upon.

Twilight fell back to her haunches in front of Applejack, pleading, demanding, “Why me, Applejack? What do you see in me, somepony who hurts you this much and doesn’t even notice?” Her eyes stung as she shouted, and she wiped them roughly. She burned with shame, with self-hate, and she slammed her hooves to the ground. “And when I didn’t get it all those years ago, why didn’t you just ask me? Don’t you know I’d say…that I’d say…”

Twilight fell back as if struck. Her eyes flew wide, trailing tears. “That I’d say yes!” she yelled. “I’d say yes, Applejack! I wouldn’t tell you no, that I wouldn’t give it a chance!”

She leapt back to all fours. “I’d say yes because I can always rely on you! You’re always there, when I need help, or somepony to work out a plan with, or just to talk to, or even just be an ear when I need somepony to listen. You’re just like me, Applejack, and you’ve always been by my side for everything. You’ve been a partner so many times for everything else, if you wanted to be partners in romance, I’d at least try, because you’ve never let me down before.”

A breathless giggle escaped her lips as she sunk back to sitting. “And…and that’s why me, because you see the same things. Because we want the same things, from ourselves, and from the world. You…you see me the same way I see you, but you’re not a silly fool like I am. Oh, Applejack…”

Twilight flung her hooves around Applejack’s neck, passing through her friend’s form, hugging nothing. She recoiled, and her heart quaked to see Applejack sit there by herself, away from her friends and family, gathering strength to face a night and a reality she hated. Twilight bowed her head again, and were she really there, her forehead would have pressed to Applejack’s. She didn’t feel anything, but she gathered her own strength anyway. Eventually she stood, turned away from the memory, and looked to the ghost.

“…I think I have all my questions answered, spirit.”

The Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Future nodded. Twilight followed as she walked back through the trees.

“…I know you’re not actually Clover the Clever, but do you know if Clover ever had a lover? Most of the stories talk about rumors between her and Starswirl, her mentor, but they’re largely discounted. Her later life isn’t covered in any real detail…just that she kept in touch with her new friends…and was especially close to Smart Cookie.”

The ghost cast a sidelong glance at Twilight, with a mysterious smile on her muzzle.

“I guess there are some questions nopony can get answered.” She grinned. “Like if the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Past really did make that howl.”

The trees shimmered, twisting into a vortex. Twilight stepped through without hesitation.

She knew what she was doing in the morning.