Icon: Remnants of the North

by Vixavior

Epilogue

Epilogue
Proofread by TehSporkBandit

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The western winds whisk over the far western hills, sweeping up the curls of snow into frothy peaks and building up grand drifts that cover the fences around the orchard. Those trees look like clouds now, laden branches bending under the impressive weight as a few last sparkles dance in the setting sun. The golden rays touch every surface as the last moments of the day draw to a close. It’s picturesque, staring down into the shallow valleys and listening to the crackle of the hearth downstairs. The rocking chair creaks and groans as the excitable din of hooves hurtling up the stairs is met with a reproachful yowl to curb the youthful enthusiasm. All feels right with the world as you stare out the window.

A honey-coated mare in a wide brimmed hat and candy-striped scarf winds her way down the country road. The buckle on her saddlebags glimmers in the sunlight as she gets closer, like a star in the daytime, alerting you to her return. Applejack had been a speck on the horizon for a few minutes, but now you make out a slight hesitation at every hoofstep as she nears the farmhouse. It was about time to haul yourself up and help a friend.

You gather the hem of your robe and rub the life back into your legs before lumbering towards the door. Winter was supposed to be a time when everything slowed down, minus Apple Bloom and the Crusaders of course, but there always seemed to be something to do on a farm. Stepping out into the hall and down the flight of stairs, it was more by habit than anything else that you greeted Granny Smith as she lounges in her rocking chair, and head to the kitchen.

A kettle was left on the stove, still piping hot if the heat from the stove and the scent of fresh rolls were any indication. You place a turnover in a frying pan with a tab of butter, then finish making up the drink: a good tablespoon of molasses and a smidge of cream is all it needs. With that done, there's little left to do but wait for the mare.

“Evenin', y'all." The door quickly opens for a moment before being shut almost as swiftly. The country mare shivers and unwinds the scarf from around her neck.

“I'd ask if you're cold but winter is just like that, right?”

Applejack sighs, “Pretty much."

“Here."

Prompted with the hot drink, she smiles thankfully, shoulders drooping in relief. “Thanks, ya' ain't got any idea how cold it is unless yer out in it." She grasps the oversized handle and makes her way towards the kitchen. “Apple tart sure smells good."

“I was working outside with Big Mac earlier, so I know. I think he’s taking a bath, he stayed out for a while after I came in. Oh that?" You gesture towards the kitchen, still following her inside. "Actually, it’s just a turnover."

“Yer fryin’ already baked goods now, huh?" Applejack lofts a brow. “Oh!" Almost as an afterthought, she draws out a letter from her pack. “Ah nearly forgot."

The paper is neatly rolled with a faint purple and bleached white watermark on its outside. It was once sealed by a bright red seal emblazon with the Canterlot royal signet, but that was broken in half. “Let me guess, something big and scary and official that Twilight gave you to give me?”

“Heh,” she smirks and nods, “yeah. Princess Luna could have just sent it by the mailmare otherwise, right?”

“Well, you do have a point." The letter didn't have any folds or wrinkles, but it had been opened:

To Our faithful subject, Twilight Sparkle and her ward,

While the ordeals of this past winter have left Us most depleted, We believe that the conditions can be met to return your ward to his homeland. Though it could take some additional effort, and no small amount of preparation, We can return him within the week. Any and all recompense shall be bestowed-

You don't bother finishing the letter. There was nothing in it that you didn't know: the time had come, and you had a decision to make.

“So, Princess Luna said she can get you back home now, right?" Applejack quirks a brow and waits, sipping her Blackstrap Special noisily but patiently.

“Twilight already told you?”

She shakes her head, “Not exactly, but it wasn't hard to tell. She was a might bit bothered by it."

You simply fold the letter and nip the inside of your lip, “She was, was she? Well-” you unceremoniously fold the parchment again and rip it lengthwise before opening the stove and tossing it in the ember bed. The letter swiftly bursts into flames and turns to ash, all before the wide-eyed mare. “There’s no reason for her to be."

“That wasn't particularly diplomatic of ya."

It coaxes a smile to your lips, “It is when that won't be necessary. Back home, people might be starting to come to terms with all this. I could probably go back and try to explain this, but I doubt anyone would beleive me. And I might very well regret not making the best of the situation. I'd rather stay. If the Princesses will allow it, that is."

Your golden-maned friend seemed flummoxed, bewildered, and yet a smile creases her muzzle. “Ya' don't say... Well, I sure wouldn't mind. It ain't easy comin' ta' terms with losin' a good friend. But are ya' sure? Ah mean, Twilight might be able ta' find a way back for you ta' visit every now and then."

You mull it over quickly and shake your head. “I think I'd like to stay here."

Several seconds pass before Applejack musters up a response. Placing the mug down on the countertop, she smiles and crosses over to grasp your hand. “Well then, ah guess ah'll be the first ta' welcome ya' to Equestria right and proper like!”

The heartfelt welcome and continuous shaking of your hand finally wanes. You laugh and take a breath, “Assuming that the royal sisters don't have a sudden change of heart-” Applejack's sharp snort says that isn't likely, “then I suppose that's exactly what this means. Though, I still don't think I'll take a trip out to Vanhoover any time soon."

"You don't have ta' be as smart as Twilight ta’ know that’s a good idea." Applejack nods. A wry smirk sneaks across her muzzle, "But, ah reckon' it wouldn’t harm nopony ta’ remind Rainbow.”

"Probably. Still, now that everything can calm down… AJ, there's something I'd sort of like to ask you."

The hoofshake dies quite suddenly after that. Those bright emerald eyes blink once in confusion, before it dawns on her. Applejack smiles, “Go for it."

☘

The ragged old church still thrummed with the sound of worshipers and pilgrims in its nave. The tightly packed hall was getting more and more crowded by the day as bright linens from Constantinople melded with the rougher homespun of the thronging masses from across Europe. Off in an alcove, set among a rough slab adorned with etchings of gold and all but obscured by a layer of hard wax from a hundred candle stubs, lay a simple cross-like pattern carved in the floor.

Two pilgrims stand by it, separate from the crowd as the first rays of light stream through the cracks in the church's roof. A blond haired man, cloaked in humble sackcloth and linen, hums and touches a finger from his forehead before offering a sign of reverence to the shrine. “There's more pilgrims every day, the locals aren't happy about it."

The thus silent figure, far shorter than the pale giant, nodded sagaciously. “Worldly needs obscure otherworldly ideals here. It is as it always has been."

“War is coming, isn't it?”

The hunched figure ponders for a few long moments. The choir continues, but a call to prayer is heard in the distance, spoken in a far-different tongued then that which is uttered in the cramped cathedral. “Almost certainly."

“Even here, to the Holy Sepulcher itself. Hmmph, some City of Peace this is." The man sighed and rubbed his eyes in exasperation. He was older now, each line on his face told a different tale and his eyes no longer shone with the fires of violence like they had long ago.

“What is built of stone will last for a time, what is built from an idea can last for an eternity, Olaf. We just have to work towards it. Do you regret not reclaiming your crown?" The figure tossed his head back, a sharp horn protruding from his equine face. Clover turned to look at the Northman as if his sightless eyes could truly see every single twisting expression on the man's face.

“Yes, and no. I regret what I could have done, not what I did, Clover. If they truly need me, then I will be there for them." He settled back a step, bowing to pay homage to the holy site.

The sudden clamour and calls of a commotion erupted through the hall again. It seemed to come as no shock to neither Man nor Unicorn. “Come,” Clover smiled, “I think we've lingered long enough. I'll tell you a story about a land of Peace and Plenty, but for now, there is someone that I would like you to meet. She's an old friend of mine that lives east of here. I have a feeling you will like her."