• Published 25th Dec 2013
  • 1,084 Views, 87 Comments

Where Night Meets Day - _Medicshy



Civil war has torn Equestria in two, and the warring nations fight for their very existence. Yet, on the personal level, what is lost? Who is to blame? And how long can the line go uncrossed? The final story of the Newsworthy saga.

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In Harmony

The Manehattan Weather Riots were the single most destructive social uprising in Equestrian history since the warring of the three tribes. While they didn't have any massive magical fallout like Tirek's appearance or Discord's days of freedom, the sheer scale of the property damage caused solely by pony hooves was truly terrifying. It would take tens of billions of bits to fix all of the damages, with entire skyscrapers left as nothing more than towering hulks of broken glass.

The reason for their riots was simple: there had been no winter for them. There was some cold, and news came of snow in Canterlot, but in Manehattan the skies were clear and dry. Far, far too dry, and this was the straw that broke the pony's back. There were haunting images of pieces of Central Park looking like a desiccated wasteland, of the hundreds of water towers littering the skyline completely empty, even the normally beautiful river that made the city an island riding low, the muddy bottom nearly within standing distance, and only that deep thanks to the sea's intervention.

The desperate situation had caused more than on council to be called with the princesses in Canterlot, who maintained to the delegates of Manehattan that they could spare no weather for their suffering city. Nearly every city in the country, they claimed, was having to cope with rain shortages as well, as they had ever since the Weather Factory had fallen. But these words did nothing to soothe Manehattan's parched throats, nor did they bring life to the dead plants or the ponies lost once the violence broke out. Words spoken from the well watered gardens of Canterlot Castle, they said, may help the Princesses sleep better, but each one came at the price of lives, and the price was already far too high.

Taking pity on the delegates, Princess Celestia promised aid, and she delivered in the form of order in a chaotic land. Hundreds of royal guards descended upon the rioting population, arresting those they could and subduing those who resisted, until, finally, the streets were silent, the violence stopped. Or so they thought.

Not two months later another council was called, with Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, and Princess Twilight once more hearing the issues of their most populated city. “The ponies are more riled up than ever, Your Highness. Many of the captured have been freed from their cells, while the streets and even the sky are more filled than ever with ponies in revolt. We cannot last without fresh water, and try as the pegasi might, the sky holds no clouds. The ponies demand you do something about it.” The aged silver-maned mare pleaded to Princess Celestia from behind her black cat eye glasses, the Mayor of Manehattan on her knees before her leader.

Twilight was touched by the mayor's plea, and though she wasn't sure how to make it happen, she was already trying to figure out a way to redistribute the nation's rain in her head, or to create an emergency supply even without the cloud machines that once flew in Cloudsdale. However, it was not her decision to make, as Celestia spoke her words clearly. “I have done all that I can for your city, Mayor Bloomberg, but I am afraid suppressing the ponies once more shall only cause more harm than good.”

The Mayor nodded tentatively, fixing her glasses with her magic before swallowing nervously. “Perhaps, instead of guard, if you could supply aid, we-”

Celestia shoved off the comment with a wing, causing the Mayor to cower lower to the ground. “I have already told you, the nation cannot spare water for your city, it would cause more drought somewhere else.” This brought a critical look from Princess Luna, but she remained silent. Her attempts to speak in the last few meetings had been silenced, and it appeared she had taken this to heart as she watched the events unfold.

“But Highness! It has been months since we have had rain, and even the deepest reserves have long run dry. The ponies no longer fight among themselves, and their destruction is not nearly so widespread or wild, but I fear for the city's safety.” The Mayor looked to the ground, ashamed to be relaying her fears as such. “They now target the government buildings, and I have never felt such a tension throughout them. It is as though they are organized, and I fear what they may do. I have even heard muttered calls for your overthrow... If you could just lend us whatever aid you could, even if it were to inconvenience another city for a few days, perhaps you could stop whatever storm is coming.”

Princess Celestia's face grew grim. “What you are speaking of is not a revolt, Mayor, it is a rebellion. If what you say is true, I will have no choice but to cut this uprising at the roots.” The Mayor started to look horrified, babbling as she struggled to find the words to react to what she had just heard.

Twilight stood up at that point, sure she could come up with a nonviolent solution.“Princess Celestia, if you would just give me a few days to look over the rainfall of Equestria and gather some data, I might be able to-”

Celestia shook her head. “No, Twilight, no other members of our nation will suffer at the hooves of a few rebellious ponies. In ancient times, the tribes often tried to disband in times of hardship, and it was not always kindness that held them together.” She looked to the guard standing just inside the door. “Captain, I want you to gather the troops and prepare them for a full march on Manehattan. We will crush this rebellion before it begins.”

“Sister, that is enough!” Princess Luna flew from her throne then, breaking her silence and touching down at the Mayor's side. “The ponies of your nation refuse to be ignored in their requests for such a basic need! In times of hardship, it is each and every citizens duty to give what they can for the betterment of us all, even if that means a little discomfort along the line.”

Celestia's grim face settled on Luna. “Sister, you know as well as I that-”

Luna raised her voice, matching her sister's gaze determinedly. “I know that the world changed greatly in the thousand years I spent on the moon. I know that actions taken against the pony tribes are not actions to be repeated against a united Equestria. I know that your embarrassment over the old factory has clouded your judgment in the requests for a new one-”

Celestia's voice was louder, echoing through the chamber. “Luna, there is a time and place for-”

But Luna did not stop talking, her voice reverberating in the Royal Canterlot Voice. “-and I know that it has rained in Canterlot three days in the last two weeks, as per your orders!” As her words silenced every other sound in the room, leaving nothing but the whisper of their fading echo, Luna continued. “We rule this land together, sister, but I cannot condone what you have decided should be done with it any more than I seem able to alter its path. But if you think I will stand idly by while the nation crumbles beneath you, you are deeply mistaken.”

“Luna, you know what happened the last time you betrayed me.” Celestia's voice was dark, cold, and hollow.

Luna nodded. “I do. But without the Elements of Harmony, your threat is an empty one. I do not wish to claim ownership of this land. I am not the sole princess of Equestria, I am one of two who embody the will of our populace. If you have decided that your ponies mean less to you than your power, then it is Our duty to remind you otherwise.”

Celestia barely reacted to the comment.“Your duty? Then consider it done and return to your seat.”

Luna shook her head, her face determined and sad. “Not my duty. Ours.” She took a step back from the throne, separating herself from the mayor that cowered before it. “If we cannot rule this nation together, then we shall rule this nation separately.” Standing in the center of the throne room, Luna stood tall, declaring her intention for all to hear. “In the name of the ponies you have abandoned in Manehattan and elsewhere, We hereby secede from Equestria, and no longer recognize your power as Our ruler.”

Celestia's face remained blank, as though she had suspected this all along. “Then to kill a snake, I shall remove the head. Captain! Arrest Princess Luna.” The guard captain at the door took a few steps towards the princess of the night, then hesitated, looking towards the throne at the end of the hall. “Now!” shouted the Princess.

“Now!” shouted a voice from the rafters, diving down into the center of the room at lightning speed, a rainbow contrail following in her wake. She flipped into a solid landing, poised and ready to fight as she faced the throne, her cyan wings spread wide, though her body was in a form fitting black suit, a silver pin in the shape of a winged crescent moon with a star in the center gleaming proudly on her chest.

Twilight recognized the pin immediately, having seen it both on pictures from the Manehattan uprising and as trophies collected by the guards after they had quelled it last. It was a symbol spreading throughout the city, a call to arms from the Weather Riot sympathizers, or so Twilight had thought. But after Princess Luna's declaration, its true intention was suddenly made clear, though seeing it on Rainbow Dash's chest made her wonder just how far it had spread.

She didn't have long to wonder, though, as two more pegasi dropped from the ceiling, dressed like Rainbow, with the pins gleaming on their chests too. Then, rappelling down from on high, a bright pink curly mane, instantly recognized, in a sneaking suit Twilight had seen her in more than once, joined the three pegasi. Last, but not least, the Captain stepped forward, removing her helmet to reveal her orange fur and purple mane, as well as the pin clipped to her hair. She tossed the helmet to the side, then took a position between Princess Luna and the rest of the guards in the chamber, her shield raised defensively, ready for any assault.

The guards hesitated, the order from Princess Celestia going unfollowed as they waited to see what the surrounded group did. Twilight, more than anypony else, was stunned, unable to act at all at the sight of two of her friends and a young filly she knew so well actively joining this rebellion.

Princess Luna, from the center of her sudden honor guard, nodded to Celestia. “Farewell, sister. May our paths someday cross on happier terms.” She then turned and began to walk from the throne room, her guard remaining in formation around her.

This was when the spell of their sudden entrance was broken, Princess Celestia's order booming out again. “Get them! Arrest those traitors before they leave this room!” The guards lining the walls started to move, but seeing Scootaloo fully armored and ready for them, they slowed down. Nopony wanted to be the first to reach that shield. Far too many of them had personally had their mettle tested against it, and there was a very good reason why the young mare was already Captain.

That hesitation was all the group needed to reach the door, exiting the room calmly, still in their defensive formation. As the door slid closed, Celestia fumed on her throne. However, instead of calling out orders, she turned to Twilight. “Princess Twilight, it is up to you to stop them. Make sure that those ponies do not leave the castle walls, by any means necessary.”

Twilight snapped out of her trance, nodding quickly, though she was immediately confused. “Why am I in charge of this? Shouldn't you be the one to order the guards in your own castle?”

Celestia's eyes were filled with sadness as she looked at Twilight. “It is you because you are a Crown Princess of Equestria, and thus you have the authority needed. I cannot order my own sister's death... Understand?” Twilight nodded slowly again, suddenly feeling the weight of the task she was given. “See it done.”

Attempting to explain what had happened to her the day of the road trip had Flora's brain tied in knots, particularly after she'd walked in the front door just a few hours before dawn. Unfortunately, Celestia's sun still had perfect aim, and she was awake and moving far earlier than she wanted to be. To make matters worse, Rosewater was closed today, which meant Rose was all ears when it came to the trip.

Explaining the late hour of her return and the uneventful trip home was infinitely easier than trying to explain “the mark on my neck was from a rope that had been used to try to abduct me, and I'd be Celestia knows where had Silver and Jazz not been there” in such a way that Rose didn't seize up from guilt and lock Flora in the house for another month, particularly with the zap apple harvest only two days away. Still, the half asleep young mare somehow managed it, ending the conversation with only minor feelings of guilt and constant worried looks from her mother for the next week each time she left the house.

And she had to leave quite often for long periods of time. Not only did she have her own greenhouse to attend to, including a moment of excitement when she found her crystal bush had grown a couple inches overnight, but quite soon the zap apple harvest was upon Sweet Apple Acres, and it was all hooves on deck to get as many apples picked as possible. Considering 'all hooves on deck' was sixteen, with Big Mac and Silver both coming out to help Jazz and Flora get as many apples off the trees as possible, they managed a pretty good haul, and the jam from that was a much needed boost of sales for the farm. Flora wasn't much help when it came to the jamming process, but she did at least manage to snag one apple for herself, with a plan to plant the seeds come spring and see what grew.

After the harvest came cider season, which Flora was more than happy to help out with, even though she spent almost as much time 'taste testing' as she did running the apple crushing wheel. The Apple Family Traditional Cider Preparation Method might not have been the fastest, but it had at least let her and Jazz spend a lot of time together, crushing apples and brewing the perfect cider—both hard and soft—then cuddling in the barn as muscles unwound with a nice cup of their work. Sure, she'd been helping out with the cider for years, but this year's batch was just that much sweeter for the process.

During the downtime of cider season, when Jazz and Flora weren't feeling sappy enough to be rubbing noses cutely on a hay bale, Jazz would pull out his instruments, giving impromptu shows for his lucky mare. They weren't as moving or as somber as his performance in the bar, and he seemed to avoid his trombone for most of the shows, but still the music was inspiring and Flora applauded every performance. After one such performance, she mentioned something about wishing she could be a musician like him, and the smile on his face was like a light being turned on.

He shot into the farmhouse, coming back a while later with two different instrument cases, offering both of them to Flora. “Here Sugar, pick your fav'rite. I was lookin' through my collection, an' I think I got ya down ta the two that'd best fit.” He opened the smaller rectangle one, revealing a flute in three parts, the silver plating on it aged with a well worn patina, while the other case contained a violin, a little scratched up, but still of excellent make and in good condition.

Flora looked at the two instruments, not prepared to put her bits in her bridle just yet. “I wasn't expecting you to take me so seriously. I should let you know, I did take lessons when I was younger, and I showed absolutely no talent then.”

Jazz looked intrigued. “I'm sure yer lyin', but who'd ya take lessons from? It weren't Miss Heartstrings, was it?”

Flora looked surprised. “How'd you know?”

Jazz smirked. “She was the only pony teachin' music 'round these parts when I was learnin' the piano. Barely helped me a lick when I picked up the trumpet at a family reunion, but it made Granny happy, an' that's what mattered.” His smirk became a friendlier smile as he paused, remembering Granny Smith, the wonderful old mare. Flora had always loved her too. It had been a blow to all of Ponyville when she passed...

After a few moments, Jazz returned to the topic at hoof. “So what'd she try ta teach ya that you weren't so good at?”

Flora rolled her eyes, putting her head in her hooves at the memory. “The lyre. I had no inclination going in, and mom didn't really care what I was learning, she'd just gotten it into her head that a filly should know how to play an instrument.” She balanced on her back legs then, moving her hooves into the dreaded pose, one holding the imaginary lyre at her side, while the other sought out the strings. “But Heartstrings was a unicorn, and I was but a filly with clumsy hooves.”

She closed her eyes, suddenly much smaller, much younger, at her first recital, just a little thing held in Heartstrings' home for her few students, their families, and some of the kinder ponies around town. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she looked at the audience, her mother and father in the front row, with Newsprint watching and little Wind Key sitting on his back. Flora swallowed nervously, brought her hoof to the strings...

It was a terrible din, barely in time and with so many wrong notes that it was completely unrecognizable as 'Pop Goes the Weasel.' By the time she was done, her face was bright red, tears in her eyes as she looked at the floor, not even watching the audience as she put down the instrument. The room was dead silent, the only sound a halfhearted clap coming from her parents. Of course, that was better than the laughing, which some colt had started in the back before being shushed. She sidled off the stage, sitting with her family and watching foal after foal, filly and colt alike, having the whole room burst out in cheering for their performances. Even for the young colt that wet himself...

Flora opened her eyes, shuddering. “I stopped after a few months. There was no teaching me.”

Jazz's smile was comforting. “Nonsense! Ya just need the right instrument an' the right teacher. So, would ya rather the fiddle or the flute? I will warn ya, they both can be a might tricky, an' the flute's another one of those instruments more for a unicorn or a pegasus, but I promise ya, though you've got the strength for a tuba, only these two've got a sound pretty enough ta come close ta ya.”

Flora smiled a little, looking at him fondly. “Flattering, but I bet you'll change your tune after you hear me play.” She started off by picking up the flute, her memories of the lyre creating an aversion to stringed anythings. However, after a minute of trying to figure out how to hold the thing, and another getting it right once she was instructed, she couldn't even make a sound. Try as she might, she couldn't get her lips in the right shape to make it work, not even after Jazz proved it was possible with his own quick flourish of notes. It was probably just as well, since she had no idea how she was going to cover all those holes with her hooves.

With one option down, she picked up the violin... or was it a fiddle? Jazz had called it a fiddle, but was there a difference? It looked like a violin to her, so she decided that they must be the same thing. Mental deliberation done, she placed the violin in the position she remembered seeing somepony play one from, getting only minor adjustments from Jazz as to where her left hoof and chin went. Then, in her right hoof, she grabbed the bow, having that quickly adjusted by Jazz as well. When finally everything was in place, she looked at Jazz, shrugged, and put bow to string.

The violin shrieked in her hooves, crying out in agony from the pressure she put on it and the way she held the strings all wrong, and immediately she put it down, shaking like she had all those years ago. She put a hoof to her chest, feeling the bandanna hanging down from her neck as she did. It was a comforting presence, one she wish she'd had at that first recital, looking back. It made this one much easier.

Jazz walked over to her, putting a hoof over her shoulder and hugging her to him. “Hey, that was great for a first time!”

Flora looked at him flatly, her embarrassment fading slightly. “Really?”

Jazz nodded. “Ya only sounded like one dyin' cat. Most first timers sound like a whole litter of 'em.”

Flora's eyebrow raised, feeling a little flustered after the failed attempt with the instrument and the very strange complement. “Thanks...? Are we done with that? Can I go back to listening to you?”

Jazz smiled warmly, kissing Flora on the cheek. “Sure, Sugar. But I ain't givin' up on ya. Why, I bet ya'll be playin' like cousin Fiddlesticks by the end of cider season.” With that dubious promise set forth, he walked over to his trumpet, laying where it had been abandoned earlier, finishing the show he'd been putting on for Flora. She did improve by the end of cider season, arguably, in that she could actually play notes without Windsor howling from the house, but she didn't have too high an opinion of her playing, even if Jazz still hadn't given up on her.

Normally the season culminated with the Running of the Leaves, getting rid of fall and getting the trees prepared for winter and, eventually, spring, but this year things went a little differently. There just weren't enough ponies to make the run, those remaining in town either too elderly or not motivated enough to sign up for the race. So instead it had fallen to Silver to plan, and her plan had definitely grown since she had talked about it on the trip through Whitetail Woods.

Built on the edge of the woods was what looked like a huge wooden mixer, drawing the attention of just about every pony in Ponyville. When asked about it, Silver assured the town that the wooden monstrosity was, in fact, a wind tunnel, and that it would be perfectly safe so long as everypony stood back. She then donned her goggles and flew inside of the thing, whipping the air into a frenzy, then into a whirlwind, before slamming out of a hatch built into the side and letting the whole thing loose.

The twister she created did a fantastic job of picking up the leaves. At first. But whether it was an errant breeze or a trick of fate, it soon picked up strength and speed, veering away from the forest and careening towards Town Hall while picking up bushes, rocks, boulders, and pieces of roofing as it moved. Silver shot ahead of the tornado in a burst of speed not seen in Ponyville since Rainbow Dash was a resident, putting herself in front of the hurtling death spiral as it bore down on her. Not a moment later, it had her swept up as well, continuing on its rampage of destruction.

However, after a few tense moments of worry from the crowd, the twister began changing course, barely passing by Town Hall and squeezing narrowly down a street, debris coming within inches of the buildings around it. From there it was funneled into the lake, the air pulling at the water immediately, sending it skyward. The wind speed couldn't keep the water afloat, however, and the tornado lost energy trying to send it away. Soon enough the destructive force dissipated, debris falling into the lake while a soaked Silver flew circles in midair, still trying to stop the defeated twister.

She apologized profusely to everypony for losing control like that, even patching up the damaged roofs, though the cost came out of the town treasury for damages. There had, luckily enough, been some preparation in case her crazy plan had gone wrong, and the money set aside in case of emergency was far more than was needed. And, even though she lost control, she had managed to get the leaves off the trees, so she was quite happy with herself once the repairs were complete.

The member of the Royal Guard that appeared that evening wasn't nearly so pleased. The incident of a rogue wind cell was not something to be ignored in Canterlot, and Silver was taken to a secure site in Ponyville for questioning about the incident, much to both Silver and Cheerilee's distress. She was not seen again until the following morning, when a grey and purple blur streaked over Flora's greenhouse towards Sweet Apple Acres.

Flora followed the blur and found Silver cowering in the clubhouse, a cushion pulled over her head and her wings flared with tension. It had taken two hours for Flora to coax Silver from her hiding spot, and another one to calm her down and assure her that things would be okay. Luckily, according to the guard, the town had a high opinion of its resident pegasus, or it would have been more than her job on the line. But, no matter what happened, Flora assured Silver that she had the support of her fellow Crusaders and best friends, no matter how much trouble she got into. Even so, Silver decided to lay as low as possible after that whole incident.

Despite the incident with the tornado and Town Hall, the last day of autumn, as always, was the Fall Flower Festival, a usually vibrant display of harvest, growth, and agricultural prowess held in the town square. In years past, there would be food stands lining the streets, while the contestant's area, and quite often the decorations, would display flowers in every color of the rainbow, putting the trees' own leafy displays to shame.

This year, as it was for the last few years, it was a dismal display. Where there used to be dozens of entries and excited faces running around the square there was hardly a flower in sight, and what few ponies came to see the modest display did so with somber expressions and the slow gait of age. There were only four contestants to compete this year, the worst turnout in festival history.

First was Lily, with a beautiful batch of the flower she was named for, continuing to show that her flower shop lived on even with her absent partner. Rose was next, with a small but healthy iris plant that she had been growing all season, refusing tips from Flora. Third was Bittersweet, a young filly with a single, giant sunflower and a huge beaming smile on her face. On her back was tied a cape, the Cutie Mark Crusaders crest sewed to it proudly, which brought a smile to Flora's face. She was happy to know that, though the Crusaders she had passed her cape to had grown up, the tradition still lived on. Flora, of course, was the final contestant, coming to defend her title with a surprise project she'd been working on all year: a dazzling display of tulips grown completely out of season. They didn't show a hint of weakness, looking just as vibrant and joyful in this last day of fall as they would in the middle of spring.

With the most difficult and most dazzling flowers of the show, Flora defended her title and took home first prize in the Fall Flower Festival once more, but that victory didn't stop her from waiting with bated breath for the other two spots. Rose had been out of the competition for a few years now, but she had been in her garden nearly daily for the past few months. If she could place, maybe it would be a little more of that confidence boost she needed.

Second place went to Lily, the florist taking the prize with ease and grace, as she had for quite a while. She would probably say some slightly passive aggressive things to Flora as she went to the greenhouse for the next few days, then it would blow over, like it always did. Still, it did have to sting to be outdone by the pony you taught, working secretly in her garden in your back yard... But even if there was a hint of jealousy from the older mare, Flora felt nothing but love for her mentor.

Third place, however, was a definite fight. Bittersweet, while not having the best display of flowers, did have one rather impressive sunflower that showed promise in the young filly. However, while Rose's irises didn't have the same vibrancy as the sunflower, they made up for it in number and in heart. The care that went into the plants Rose had presented was clear, while the young filly's flower had the definite look of a happy accident, not the norm. And, while it did tear at Flora to root against a fellow Crusader, she had to hope that the show of care would end with the ribbon going to her mother. Lily's lilies were beautiful, and Flora of course wished for the best for her mentor, but though Rose's iris didn't have the same vibrancy, it made up for it in heart, and Flora hoped that would be enough to get the ribbon for her mom.

Eventually, after Mayor Mare held a lengthy pause for dramatic effect, the yellow ribbon was awarded to Rose's iris flower, bringing a cheer from Flora as she ran over and hugged her mom. It was a bit of a display in front of the young filly, but just as Flora was about to apologize, she saw Bittersweet and two other fillies running off to do something else. It was nice to know that, even in war, some things never changed. Her guilt set aside, she went back to congratulating her mother on her good showing in the competition. Maybe third place wasn't that impressive in a field of four to some, but to Flora, seeing that beaming smile return to her mother's face and feeling the warmth of it radiate out as they celebrated... The yellow ribbon might as well have been pure gold.

The next morning was crisp and cool, the perfect day for the scheduled start of winter. The night before had been full of games and laughter, but today Rose decided that she and Flora deserved a little feast to celebrate their awards. Flora would have liked to have helped her, but there was one important piece of preparation needing to be done at Sweet Apple Acres, and she set off first thing in the morning to get it done.

Winter, well known to be the season where nothing grew and farmers generally got to rest, had a small hitch in that plan right at the fence between Sweet Apple Acres and the Grape Family Vineyards. One year, after the zap apples had come and gone, a few strange little vine began to grow along the fence. Nopony knew what to make of the unassuming turquoise tendrils that rose from the ground, only their strange coloration marking them as anything other than a weed. At one point, the Grape family had even tried to cut them down, but when the shears were dulled from use trying to keep the near-instant regrowth in check, the vines were left alone to grow for years. It wasn't until a young Jazz was sitting in the field, practicing the trumpet he'd received at the family reunion earlier that year, that anypony found out the secret of the vines.

As the young colt improvised on his horn, the vines reacted, growing rapidly and seeming to connect together with five thinner tendrils. As he played on, little flashes of light brought his attention to the fence, causing him to investigate in wonder. It took him a little while to figure out what he was seeing, but as he finished the song and watched the magic happen, suddenly it became clear. Amazed by his discovery, he ran inside to tell his mother about what had happened.

Now, while Applejack and Granny Smith were both flummoxed by the idea of apple blossoms growing on a vine, especially when snow was already starting to hit the ground, Granny knew that magic was as magic does, and she encouraged Jazz to keep playing for the vines every day to see what happened. It took him most of the winter, and sometimes he'd walk out bundled head to hoof in warm clothes and still be unable to feel his lips, and many of the small, green and red dappled apples were destroyed by the snow and the frost, but in the end, the jazz apples had been tamed, and Jazz had a cutie mark to show for it to boot.

However, due to the destructive effects of winter's chill on the fruits, Jazz had taken a page from Flora and decided that they needed a greenhouse to keep them warm and safe. She'd offered to help out with it even all the way back then, and even as the years passed, she was still the best mare for the job. Big Mac, for all his ability with building and repairs, could never seem to get a knack for the plastic building, and with Jazz's clumsiness with building tools, Flora had gladly taken over the reins.

Initially they'd tried keeping the greenhouse up the entire year, but that had quickly turned out to be a mistake. All through the year they had to keep scaring off the fruit bats that had decided they could nest in the nice, warm building, leaving behind a horrifying mess and causing more work than taking down and putting up the temporary building would have been. However, that wasn't what had shown it to be a mistake. Whether it was because they were separated from the zap apples that year or some other magical mechanic nopony could pin, the jazz apple vines only provided very few, sickly, mostly bitter fruits when finally winter came. After that, per the magic vine's inclinations, the Apple family removed the greenhouse each spring and put it up again each winter. It was like the painting of polka dots when making zap apple jam: it didn't seem to make sense, but magic is as magic does, and that was just something to factor in.

It was late in the afternoon when finally the greenhouse was put together, the long, clear plastic building a rather impressive eyesore against the wooden fence and the hills behind. When the first snow came in a few days it wouldn't stick out so much, but it was a jarringly modern building on the charming little farm and one thing she really hated about the whole process. Still, with a feeling of accomplishment sitting lightly on her heart, she walked back towards the farmhouse, wiping her brow at a job well done.

Before she had gone more than a few steps, Jazz called out to her, the smile clear in his voice even with her back turned. “Hey! Where do you think yer goin'? You didn't think I'd let ya go without thankin' ya, didya?”

Flora turned around, smiling as well. “No, but I figured my reward would be back at the farmhouse. A bottle of cider and one of your amazing pies would really hit the spot about now.”

Jazz smirked at her, pulling a bottle out from behind a stump near the completed building. “Well, I ain't got a pie on me, but I was one step ahead a ya on the cider.” He left that sitting on the flat top of the tree's remains as he reached behind it again, fetching a trumpet case. “Now come on in, you get ta sit in on my first playin' for the vines.” He took his case inside the building, leaving Flora to grab the bottle offered to her, pop the cap off with her hoof, and follow him inside.

It was a little cramped in there thanks to the fence running through the middle of it, but the tight quarters and already overheated air were made infinitely more tolerable by the cider in Flora's hoof, as well as the show that began as soon as Jazz started warming up his trumpet. The vines behind him came alive with the first few notes he played, stretching up to the top of the fence and standing completely straight. As he continued, a treble clef appeared at the highest part of the leftmost vine, its leaves vibrant and shimmering, while small white flowers shaped like bells appeared around it, pointing towards the source of the sound and waiting for the coming performance.

As was Flora, who watched with fascination as Jazz warmed up, slowly finding herself more focused on him than the plant she'd never seen before. He really was a handsome stallion, lost as he was on his music with a gentle smile pulling at his lips. He could also move the valves on his trumpet incredibly well with his hooves, a feat that astounded her considering her own difficulty with the strings on the violin. Maybe he was just more flexible or nimble than her, she didn't know, but the music he made even during warmup made her wonder if he'd have stayed on the farm if the war hadn't started. Had it been a different time, she could easily see him in old Manehattan, a billboard proclaiming his sold out show. And she'd just be somepony cheering him on from Ponyville... Imagining the life he missed, and knowing the joy she gained for him missing it... it wasn't a pleasant thought, no matter how she looked at it.

But the thought was cast away as Jazz stopped his warmup, took a swig from his own bottle of cider, smiled deeply at her, and began to play in earnest. Music exploded from his horn, filling the room up immediately and completely, though it was muddied by the lousy acoustics in the cramped plastic building. Even so, his quick flourishes and syncopated rhythms were a stunning thing to hear, with a tempo so fast and a tone so upbeat it was hard to believe this was the same pony whose instrument had cried in the tavern in Jennydale.

Amazing as it was, the sight of the red furred stallion so lost in his performance was soon dwarfed by the show behind him. Within moments of him starting to play, a time signature grew out of the vine behind him, followed by five smaller vines, shooting from the leftmost vine and linking up all of the ones along the fence. Small apple blossoms winked into existence on the newly grown staff following his every melodic line, with small vines drooping down to separate measures and leaves appearing to denote the few rests he took and needed incidentals. Very soon, the first line of the staff was full, and so a second set of vines grew beneath it, shooting across the greenhouse to keep up with the music, the flowers on it seeming to glow and dance as he played.

A third line grew after the second was filled, but as it reached the end, no more filed in under it. Although Jazz continued to play for a while longer, the vines were at maximum capacity, nearly touching the ground, stretched taut and laden with flowers as they were. The flowers continued to glow until Jazz finally put his trumpet down, but the scene no longer changed, allowing Flora to take it in in its entirety.

Behind Jazz was a living piece of sheet music, marked with leaves and vines, with flowers for notes and accurate to a sharp. Flora had never seen Jazz perform for the vines, or even seen the inside of the greenhouse when she'd come to do repairs in previous years. It had been a secret from her, just like her greenhouse was a secret from him. A private place where only he could go... and he'd invited her in. That warmed her heart even more than the sight of Jazz standing before his glowing work, a warm smile on his face as he looked it over.

It took her a few moments for her to register that he'd stopped playing, the sight of the process unfolding before her enough to make her lose herself in its beauty. But she quickly regained her senses, applauding the musician's work, though she almost swore she saw the flowers bowing behind him. “That was amazing! Is this what you do every year?”

Jazz nodded. “Eeyup. Sometimes it's my trombone, sometimes I pick another instrument, an' one year I convinced Big Mac ta drag the piano out here... It was a good harvest, but he said he'd never do it again and he's stuck to it.” He took another sip from his cider, then smiled at Flora. “Yer the first pony ta see me play for 'em that weren't family, an' the first pony at all in eight years.” His smile faded a little after that. “Granny Smith always loved ta hear me play...”

“I'm sure she'd still enjoy it now. I know I did.” She smiled warmly, walking up to him and kissing him on the cheek. “Thanks for sharing it with me.”

Jazz pulled her into a hug. “Of course, Sugar. You've been makin' this happen for years. If anythin', yer overdue for the show.” He looked at the music growing on the vine, a slight frown on his face. “Was that really all that grew? Huh... Shoulda put the fancy bits in a few bars earlier.”

Flora, now getting to see the jazz apple vine in action, had a few questions she had always wanted to know about the little fruits she'd get at the end of the year. “So, how do the jazz apples work? Do you just have to play that song every day? Do they grow on their own?”

Jazz looked at her for a moment, a bit of puzzlement on his face. “You mean I never told ya before?” Flora shook her head, causing his frown to deepen before continuing. “Well, growin' jazz apples is pretty simple really. For the first few days you just come out here 'n play for 'em, whatever you like, an' they fill in the music until ya find a balance or a tune that ya like. After a week, ya gotta narrow it down to a song you can play every day, an' the notes not in it fall off 'a the vines. Flourishes can be added in still, but the main piece has ta be set by the end of the first month. Then it's just daily practice of the music 'til the fruit is beggin' ta be picked, an' the job's done.”

Flora looked at the small white flowers that had sprouted, picturing the tiny, bite sized apples they grew into by winter's end. “What are the apples best used for? I can never seem to remember what you sell from them at the end...”

Jazz shrugged. “That's 'cause we don't sell a lot. Until we can get more vines ta grow, we ain't got production enough ta make much of a profit, an' since gettin' more parts to expand the greenhouse is such a hassle right now, we ain't plantin' more 'til the war's off an' we can plan it. These vines are just the ones that grew nat'rally, plus one or two I planted when I was younger, an' they're still goin' strong.” He took a moment of pride in that, sipping his cider before going on. “Anyway, jazz apples are best for jammin', though they make very sweet desserts and salad toppers if ya don't eat 'em all as snacks.”

Flora's first thought was to ask for a seed from one of these, too, to see if she could make it grow, but once she remembered the musical component, and the fact that she'd been being taught an instrument, she looked over at Jazz slyly. “You weren't thinking I'd play with you to get more apples, were you?”

Jazz looked sheepish, kicking at the dirt aimlessly. “Th' thought had crossed my mind...”

She looked at him flatly, but there was an inner curiosity that demanded to be sated. Still... “I don't think I'd be much help. The violin screeching along behind will only bring you down.”

Jazz looked her in the eyes, his face going completely serious. “Flora, for years now you've made my life be nothin' but up when everythin' else is draggin ' down. An' after everythin' ya've done just this year, a duet with ya would be the sweetest icin' on the cake.” He pulled her into a kiss then, and the motion surprised her. In all their months dating, they'd had pecks on the cheek and plenty of cuddling, but this was the first real kiss they'd shared... In fact, for both of them, it was the first 'real' kiss they'd ever had.

And yet, even though she was surprised, she didn't resist it, and she was oh so glad of that. The love she could feel in the gesture, the caring passing from his lips to hers, made her whole body spark with warmth. She was a little sad when it ended moments later, with him looking dreamily into her eyes. “I love ya, Flora, an' it's taken me much too long ta say it. Nothin' you could do could bring me down. So would ya be willin' ta practice a duet with me this winter?”

Flora still had doubts about her ability with the violin, and she knew she would normally be voicing them, but in the warm haze filling her heart, she couldn't find the words even if she tried. “I'd love to, Jazz, just like I love you, too.” She blushed a little at what she said, realizing how sappy it was, but put that thought away as she nuzzled his cheek, warmed as it was by the orange light of sunset through the greenhouse wall.

Her eyes shot open as she realized the color of the light, her body jumping to her hooves as moving quickly towards the door. “Horseapples! Is it that late? I need to go. Mom's waiting for me and I can't-”

Jazz waved a hoof at her worried face. “It's alright, Sugar, no offense taken. You deserve the celebration after winnin' the festival. Just make sure to swing by the barn an' grab the fiddle on your way out.”

Flora stopped at the door, looking back in at him with a bit of surprise. “You're going to let me take it home?”

Jazz smirked. “Well, ya can't always be practicin' here, can ya? An' I trust ya not ta break it.”

Flora smiled back, nodding. “I'll do my best. See you tomorrow, Jazzy!” With that she ran from the greenhouse, Jazz watching her go until she disappeared among the trees in the orchard. With a warm smile, he picked up his trumpet again, inspiration striking and giving the jazz apples a little bonus show.

The next day Flora made her way to the Acres, finding Jazz waiting for her in the barn, ready for a small bit of practice and planning in the barn before they played for the apples that afternoon. Initially, Flora was nervous, her violin squeaking in pain and the notes coming from it filled with trepidation. Despite that, Jazz was nothing but supportive, encouraging her through and telling her that she was doing great. At the end of an hour, though, she was just as scared of her instrument as she'd been when she came in, as she'd been when he first had her play it at the beginning of fall, and after all these months, that was something Jazz couldn't let continue. “Flora, ya need ta relax. The fiddle ain't gonna bite.”

Flora dropped down from her playing stance, anxiety clear on her face. “I know that, and I know you said I wouldn't drag you down, but I just can't play as well as you can, and if the jazz apples don't like it then you'll get a weird harvest and-”

Jazz tapped her on the nose, stopping her thought in her tracks, then smiled warmly. “If ya worry that much 'bout what yer playin', ya'll lose the joy of playin'. Ya know the notes, you were hittin' them just fine before ya worried and let yer bow slip. Ya just gotta breathe.”

Flora gave Jazz weak glare. “You're just saying that. There's no way I'm gonna be good enough to match you when the time comes.”

Jazz looked hurt, taking a step back from Flora. “Flora, that's cold. I wouldn't lie to ya. I'm an Apple, 't ain't in our nature. But I didn't ask ya ta play with me because I wanted ya ta be good.” Flora had her mouth open to comment when she was swept into a hug, her words caught in her throat as she looked into his hazel eyes containing nothing but truth and warmth for her. “I asked ya because we work so well together.”

In another moment he had moved behind her, coaxing her up to her back legs and bringing the violin back into its place. “We're gonna be playin' a duet, an' whether we're playin' it for the jazz apples, for a tavern, or just for ourselves, the way it works is the same. Ya gotta trust yer partner and ya gotta trust yerself.”

Flora was held almost spellbound as Jazz continued to guide the bow to the string, his hoof on hers to help pick the notes. “We're gonna be playin' music together, a song I wrote for us, a song only we can discover... We ain't gonna find it if we ain't walkin' the road together. If ya spend the whole time worryin' that yer draggin' me back, ya'll end up doin' it. What ya gotta do, what we need ta do, is close our eyes, listen to the breath, the beat, everythin', until we're practic'ly the same pony. Then the music will flow.”

Flora did as he said, closing her eyes, slowing her breathing to match his brushing by her cheek. She could feel his warmth around her, not cautious like it had been that first night they were together, not self conscious like when they'd cuddle in the barn, but sure and comfortable in a way she'd never felt him before. And, as she continued to match his breathing, she relaxed into his presence a little more, and it was as though whole new sense came to her. She could sense the smile beside her neck, could feel the intention in his hooves, the notes he wanted her to play without his guidance in the least. But, most of all, she could feel his heartbeat, a constant pulse of everything that was him coursing through his body. She took another deep breath, time passing ever by, until, soon enough, their heartbeats matched. Then, at that moment, she began to play.

Her clumsy hooves were gone, and though it was no sonata, the notes flowed quickly from her violin, moving along the melody he had written for them. She could hear his part in her mind, harmonies and counter melodies that she couldn't pick out if she was asked, but which flowed from the music to her and back as she pulled her bow and made her instrument sing.

A moment later, she felt Jazz slowly pull away, and she nearly stuttered, moments from losing that connection they had shared. However, she fought her worry, continuing to keep her eyes closed and let the music go, refusing to tense up as, smoothly, his trumpet joined her strings. She was most of the way through the piece he'd given her, but she kept playing it to the end, feeling the connection to her duet partner, her special somepony, and trusting him through and through.

Just as they reached the end, she hesitated, hearing him moving where she knew silence should follow. She wanted to open her eyes, to start to question, but she fought against that instinct, her music quieting as she tried to find the path. Moments later it showed itself to her as he played the first few notes of their song: a simple repeat, nothing more. She started up again, this time letting the music flow in its twin rivers, wrapping around the two of them and filling the barn completely. They never once lost the beat, and though she couldn't follow him through his flourishes and embellishments, she trusted herself to keep steady, her violin continuing to sing.

They reached the end of the song together, slowing down to the last note, which hung in the air between them even once they both had placed their instrument down and opened their eyes. The world hadn't changed, it was still the same barn, still the same winter day, and yet, she was not the same pony. She had seen him play many times, she had played herself to little effect, but to have finally made that connection with him... She walked forward, leaning up and kissing him, much like he had the day before, and again, for a moment, their heartbeats aligned. Then she pulled away, smiling all the while with her half-lidded eyes. “I think we're ready Jazzy.”

Jazz smiled back. “I know we are, Sugar. The vines are waiting.”

“They can wait a little longer.” She kissed him again and they moved in unison, slowly going backwards until they fell into the pile of hay, the instruments falling to the wayside, their hearts still beating in perfect unison.