Ordinary World

by PaulAsaran

Noon

Golden’s house was small and quaint, situated on the southern edge of Ponyville. It was the only house on its side of the street, though this was easily explained by how short the street was and the large amount of space the carrot field took up behind and to either side of the house. It was a single-story building, its thatched roof set at a low angle and the wooden walls looking about as old as Ponyville itself. It had some nice flowerbeds, but generally speaking it looked very plain.

Applejack had always known where Golden lived, but had never seen the house up close before. She had to grudgingly acknowledge that she was impressed; though the carrot field wasn’t large, it looked like a lot for just one pony. Applejack had been sorely tempted to criticize the bland appearance of the house… but now she understood that Golden probably spent so much time trying to keep up with the carrots that she couldn’t have time to work on gussying up her home.

However did she find time to spend with Rarity?

Applejack glanced about the street and sighed with relief when she saw it was empty.

Then she whacked herself on the head; why was she acting like she was about to commit a crime? She was just here to wait for Golden, who was almost certain to come running up at any minute in Applejack’s body! Nothing to be nervous about, nothing to feel guilty for.

So why did she have the urgent need to run to her parents’ graves begging forgiveness?

No, she was just trying to keep things quiet, that was all. It had nothing to do with her bitterness towards Golden or… or wanting to spend more time with Rarity.

She just needed to lay low for a bit.

Sucking in a deep breath and steeling herself, Applejack walked up to the front door and pulled on the knob. The door didn’t budge.

She hesitated before reaching into Golden’s pack and pulling out the key. She stared at it for several seconds, noting its aged metal. It had a circular handle and a thin, round neck, the kind of design that hadn’t been used since Granny Smith had been a filly. The key itself had to be as old as the house – and considering how long the Harvests had been around, that was old. If Applejack recalled correctly, Golden had inherited the place from her parents.

It suddenly struck Applejack as strange. She and Golden had grown up in the same town, gone to the same school and probably enjoyed many of the same things. Applejack wasn’t but four years or so older than her.

So why had they been like complete strangers all their lives?

With this curious thought in her head, Applejack inserted the key in the lock and turned it. She was rewarded with the sound of an aged bolt grinding back and the door opening with a creak of hinges.

Applejack couldn’t resist one more look around before she crept in at a slow pace, her head dropped low and fretful thoughts passing through her mind. Why did she feel so… guilty?

She closed the door behind her and peered about. She was in what appeared to be a combination between a dining room and kitchen, with a small wood-fire stove in one corner and creaky floors. Pictures and what Applejack guessed were family heirlooms lined the walls of the small room. Just off-center was a small, round table surrounded by three ancient wooden chairs.

So… this was Golden’s home. It was so much more… ‘modest’ than Rarity’s. Even Applejack’s home looked bright and new compared to this. Only one thought came to mind as Applejack studied her rustic surroundings: what did Rarity see in this pony?

At first a wave of shame filled Applejack at the nature of the question… but as she thought on it, she realized that it was actually a very legitimate question when taken in context. What did Golden – a relatively poor pony living all alone in this tiny home with nothing to do but grow and sell carrots – have that appealed to Rarity? What made her more interesting than Applejack?

Though Applejack hated herself for thinking in such low terms, she couldn’t help wondering if the Bearer of Generosity wasn’t taking her Element a bit too far.

“She’s got nothin’.” Applejack looked about with a frown and no small amount of bitterness. “Not even a legacy when it comes down to it. What in tarnation does she see in this girl?”

She approached the table, pressed a hoof on it. It was surprisingly sturdy for its tiny frame. She eyed the empty vase, noted the barely visible remnants of whatever flowers had last graced it. The water inside was green with algae. Couldn’t Golden even bother to empty it?

Applejack went to a door in the corner, walking past the stack of wood that was lined against a wall. She peered into the next room and found what appeared to be a storage space, old toys and the like resting on top of a worn and threadbare mattress. There were stacks of yellow books, some moth-eaten clothes that didn’t appear to belong to Golden at all and a trio of rusty bicycles in the corner.

Was Golden also some kind of pack-rat? Rarity would never approve if she saw something like this.

Turning her nose up, Applejack turned back to the kitchen and went to the next room. It appeared to be Golden’s bedroom. Unlike the other rooms, it was very neat and clean. Curious, Applejack stepped in and glanced around.

The bed was a little large for just one pony. A few presses revealed it to be rather lumpy. Applejack frowned and thought of her nice soft bed at home. Surely Golden could at least afford to replace this thing? She stepped back and noted the night stand. It was bare save for two picture frames.

Applejack lifted the first… and for the first time since arriving she felt sympathy. There was Golden, not even a teenager yet and riding on the back of a yellow, bearded stallion who – if the shape of his face was anything to go by – had to be her father. Her mother, a heavy-looking silver mare, was posing in a way suggesting that she was holding the camera. They all looked so happy…

Sighing, Applejack sat on the bed and picked up the other picture.

Her sympathy disappeared, replaced by an injection of anger at the sight of Golden smiling nervously in a bright orange dress befitting the Grand Galloping Gala. She had an anxious smile aimed at her partner in the photo: a heart-stoppingly beautiful Rarity in a bedazzling red dress. Rarity looked so very pleased with herself… as if she’d just found the catch of a lifetime.

Applejack’s stare gradually shifted to a glare, the pictures shaking in her yellow hooves and her jaw tensing. Her eyes were locked on Golden, on her dopey smile and her uncertain posture. And that dress… that stupid dress that Rarity had to have made just for her!

With a huff, Applejack tossed the picture on the bed and glared at the other one. Suddenly she didn’t see a nice, happy family; she saw a group of yokels that made her family look like country gentry. She tossed that photo aside, too.

She was coming to hate that pony. What had she ever done to deserve Rarity, what? Had she gone on adventures with her, shared in the glory of saving the world? Did she hold an Element of Harmony? No! She was just a regular, ordinary pony with absolutely nothing special.

Applejack jerked to her hooves and began pacing the tiny bedroom, steam blowing out her nostrils with every snort. She had fought alongside Rarity, she had been at the pony’s side, she had a well-known family legacy. There was no reason for Rarity not to pay attention to her! Why did she have to get passed up for this? If only she’d made a move first...

She turned to the small dresser in the corner. Golden’s face glared back at her, livid and eyes bright like a fire. It was all Applejack could do not to smash the mirror to pieces. If she was going to be stuck in this dumb body, she would make the most of it! Let Golden remain stuck in her body for a few weeks; Applejack would go to Prance and get the attention she deserved.

She grinned at the dark thought and bowed her head. It would be so easy, all she’d have to do is lay low and hide from Golden for a while. Rarity wouldn’t even know.

She noted the bottles on the dresser, the brushes and combs. She lifted one up to read the label and saw it was some kind of hair product.

…she recognized it from Rarity’s bathroom.

Applejack looked in the mirror again, this time eyeing Golden’s orange mane. Well, she had to give the pony credit; she had some nice hair. Far nicer than Applejack’s ever was.

One more reason to hate her.

She turned, eyes roaming the small room. Was this it? Just three rooms in the whole house? Rarity was so out of Golden’s league! Not like Applejack, oh no… and she’d prove it!

---

Golden had been keeping count, and the tally wasn’t good. Her day so far had been three parts ‘amazing,’ twelve parts ‘annoying,’ and she’d stopped counting the ‘downright bads.’

Every flash in her face was being counted towards that last one now. If she heard that insufferable photographer in her ugly dress and tacky sunglasses go “No! …nice.” one more time…

As a filly, Golden had longed to escape the farm life and live as a princess. It had been a silly, foolish dream, one that Rarity had granted her for a single tender night. Yet Golden had never dreamed of being a fashion model, and now more than ever she wished she could run screaming all the way back to Ponyville and dive into her carrot field!

At first Golden had been nervous, perhaps even a bit excited. There was a lot of fear – what if she really bucked things up for Fleur de Lis? – but she also recognized an opportunity to see how the ‘other half’ lived, as her friend Nye liked to put it. Yet in her mind she’d always imagined the life of a supermodel involving throwing on a dress, striking some pointless pose for a few shots in front of the camera and then heading off for cocktails.

The reality was so very different. She had spent hours in the dressing room just waiting for the bucking photographer to decide if the dress needed two feathers or three! Not to mention the application of makeup, which on its own was an hour-long ordeal, and the entire time she had to listen to those two snob-muzzled assistants griping about how the dress needed extra stitching in the sleeves or should have been a different shade of Red Orchid Lavender-combination Rose or whatever random color they seemed to make up off the top of their heads.

Was that kind of pointless criticism the kind of thing Rarity always had to deal with? How in the name of Celestia was she able to put up with it? For a living?

Now – after two hours of posing – Golden's lips were starting to ache. She had developed a very healthy appreciation for how hard it must be for Fleur to keep doing this day in and day out. She was also just a few flashes away from taking that insufferable camera and smashing it against the bricks!

“Enough!”

The photographer raised a hoof and turned away, the camera almost instantly collapsing into a briefcase that snapped shut.

Golden blinked, surprised at how suddenly the photo shoot had ended. She looked around the massive gardens and saw that already those two assistants were packing away their things and getting ready to leave. “You mean we’re done?”

“That was a good shoot,” the photographer declared, though she set a hoof to her chin with a frown. She turned back to Golden and studied her from behind those ugly glasses. “Not up to your usual standards today, but it shall suffice. The marvelous Fleur de Lis always comes through, ya?”

Golden barely managed to crack a smile, her hoof just itching to smash those sunglasses.

“I shall arrange for another shoot in a few weeks. Usual channels.”

Golden winced at the thought of going through this hell again. She opened her mouth to—

“I go!”

The photographer and her assistants were gone before Golden could think of anything to say. She looked down at the dress she was still wearing. “They don’t want this back?”

“They never do.” Fleur’s assistant – who Golden now knew was named Fine Line – stepped up beside her. “Photo Finish always lets you keep the dress, remember? You’re one of her favorite models, after all.”

Golden set a hoof to her temple. “Of course… how silly of me to forget.”

“I-I didn’t mean it like—”

Golden shot Fine Line a reassuring smile. “I wasn’t being critical, Line.”

Fine Line sank a little. “I prefer Fine… ma’am.”

“Fine.” Golden let out a deep sigh and bowed her head. “I thought that would never end.”

“You and me both, my dear.”

Golden’s mood rose quickly at that vaguely familiar voice. She turned around to find the one and only Fancy Pants watching from a spot between two tall azaleas, a warm smile beneath his charming blue mustache. Seeing him again counted towards the three ‘amazings.’ Granted she’d only met him once before, but considering that without his help Rarity would have never been able to give Golden that magical first date she was more than happy to see him again.

“You have no idea how good it is to see you,” Golden admitted.

“Likewise.” Fancy rubbed his mustache with a charming smile. “It’s been so long since your last visit that I was beginning to think this old soldier had lost his appeal.”

Golden had to stop and think on that statement; exactly what was Fleur to him? Were they friends? Something more?

Suddenly she wasn’t so comfortable, but even so she managed to crack a smile and come up with a retort: “Never! I’ve just been busy, that’s all.”

“Yes, well duty does tend to call at the most inopportune times.” He turned and gestured with his head down the brick path. “You must be famished. I’ve arranged a small lunch for us at the gazebo, if you’d feel inclined to join me.”

“Yes, that would be nice.” Golden had said it, but in the back of her mind she was suddenly trying to find some kind of evidence – a passing phrase from Rarity, a memory from that first date, anything – that would tell her that Fancy and Fleur weren’t an item. Goddess, would that be awkward! Unfortunately, the one thing she remembered wasn’t very soothing: Fleur had been Fancy’s date at that party in Canterlot.

Oh Goddess…

To her relief, Fancy made no attempt to offer her his hoof or some other gentlepony kind of thing. They walked side by side, and she was pleased to note his respectable distance. Maybe she was fretting over nothing?

Fine Line appeared at Fleur’s side, a notebook hovering before her in a light blue glow to match her eyes. “We don’t have anything else planned for the day, so you can relax. If it pleases you, Miss de Lis, I can go ahead and work with Photo Finish to set your next shoot with her into your schedule.”

Golden had to fight to hold back a sneer. “That’ll do fine… er… Fine.”

As Fine Line took her leave, Golden noted Fancy’s eyes examining her dress. The scrutiny made her blush, even though he had nothing but a pleasant smile on his face.

“I do say, another grand design. You must have so many! It’s no wonder you always manage to make me appear underdressed in comparison.”

Golden blinked, eyeing his crisp tuxedo. “I think you look just fine.”

He let out a bark of a laugh. “Says the pony paid to wear the dresses!”

Up ahead, towering over the gardens like a stocky behemoth, was Fancy’s mansion – the second thing to count towards the ‘amazing’ category. It was squat, made entirely of red brick and had an aged look to it. Golden had seen many mansions in the carriage ride from Fleur’s place to his, and though the mansion was undeniably magnificent it seemed curiously modest compared to the veritable palaces surrounding it.

The gazebo was a tall structure of bright redwood standing apart from the brick path. It was surrounded by tall, uneven trees and flowering bushes, such that once inside Golden felt as if she might be in a dense forest rather than a perfectly-maintained garden. She was tempted to ask what made him choose such a ‘wild’ setting for the location, but kept her lips sealed; odds were Fleur should already know.

There was a small table for two set in the middle of the gazebo. Golden had anticipated silk linens and silverware made from actual silver, along with some tiny treat that undoubtedly cost a ridiculous price. What she got instead were no linens, two simple wooden bowls and a large silver pot with steam rising from the lid. She glanced around as she sat, looking for a maid or butler to come by and begin serving the meal… but they were alone.

“Seapetal stew.” Fancy offered his pleasant smile as he lifted the lid with his hoof and set it unceremoniously on the gazebo’s guardrail. Golden looked into the pot to find a curious brown mixture with dark green leaves and purple flower petals whose colors were worn from having been cooked. She sniffed and detected hints of lettuce, oats, thyme and basil.

How curious; this hardly seemed like the gourmet delicacy that would be served to the Most Important Pony in Canterlot. It struck her as a poor pony’s dish…

Fancy took note of her confused expression as he sat opposite her. “I thought you’d appreciate a little taste of home,” he admitted with a grin, using his magic to ladle the contents into her bowl. “I know you sometimes miss food from the isles.”

Golden managed a smile even as she marveled that he was bothering to serve the meal himself. That didn’t seem at all like something a stallion of his status would do, even for a friend. “Thank you, Fancy. You’re a true gentlepony.”

He chuckled as he set her bowl down and began serving himself. “And I have the raging fans to prove it. I know I’ve bored you with this before, but sometimes I wish I could go back and see what’s become of the old fort.”

Golden suddenly wished she’d taken more interest in Fancy’s history, because she was finding herself woefully unprepared for this conversation. She found herself thinking about the letter she’d read and wished whoever had promised to help would show up and save her from making Fleur look like a foal.

The letter.

Golden had been so focused on trying to make the photo shoot not be a disaster that she’d completely neglected the entire reason she’d decided not to cancel it. Even so… could she tell Fancy what was really going on? Would he believe her?

Her thoughts were distracted by the site of the Most Important Pony in Canterlot lifting his bowl in his hooves and drinking the stew straight. She gaped at the sight; if Rarity were here she’d have fainted at his lack of etiquette! Fancy Pants wasn’t anything like she’d imagined. He had the elite voice, the wealth and dashing good looks, but his actions were threatening to break the already strained gears in her brain.

He set the bowl down with a bright smile, using a spotless white towel to wipe the stew from his chin. “Perfectly divine! I’ll have to complement Deep Dish on being able to accurately recreate this.”

Golden moved a little too quickly to take a sip of the stew. She was pleasantly surprised; it was flavorful and thick. One of those strange flowerpetals hit her lips and assaulted her taste buds with an unfamiliar flavor that made her wince… but after a few seconds of sucking on it she realized it was actually quite good.

“I see you approve,” Fancy noted with a smirk as she sucked down a larger amount of the stew.

She nodded with a blush. “It’s very good, Fancy. My compliments to the chef.” That was something elites liked to say, right?

It abruptly dawned upon her that this was probably meant to be a special moment. Not just for Fancy, but for Fleur. He was acting so… ‘normal.’ Maybe she was meant to do the same thing. The thought left her with many questions, not least of which being what Fancy and Fleur meant to one another.

Despite all her observations, however, Golden could see no solid evidence that they were a couple. She was certain that they were old friends, but did it extend any farther than that? What was it about Fleur that kept Fancy interested? It couldn’t be her beauty, he wasn’t acting the right way for it to be something so basic. What did Fleur bring to the table in this relationship between them? For that matter, what did Fleur enjoy from him?

That was when the terrifying thought struck Golden; she had no idea what she brought to the table in comparison to Rarity in their relationship.

“I say, are you quite alright?”

“What?” Golden looked up to find Fancy peering at her with a concerned frown.

“You look as if somepony just told you your modeling career was over,” he relied.

Her cheeks went red. “I’m sorry. I was just… thinking.” She grabbed her bowl and look a long drink, if only to hide her face.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She set the bowl down a little too quickly, the loud thunk making her wince. “No, I’m fine. Honest.”

He leaned back with a raised eyebrow, the scrutiny in his eyes making her shift. After a couple seconds he leaned forward once more.

“Fleur… I know you don’t like opening up about certain things, even to me. Even so, if you think I can’t see when something is bothering you I’d suggest you remember who I am.”

He sat up straight and gestured back towards the brick path. “I was watching your shoot today and I could see that something was crawling under your coat; you didn’t have the usual bounce to your step. If something is making you uncomfortable enough to even interfere with your love of the job, it must be bad indeed.”

Golden fidgeted. He must know Fleur very well…

Fancy stood and moved about the table, a motion that set Golden’s mind to panicking. Goddess, what was he about to do?

He sat next to her and took her unsuspecting hoof in his own, making her jump. His big blue eyes locked with hers.

“You know I will not press you to talk. I have too much respect for your privacy. But I want to remind you that you can talk, if you want to.”

"You know how much you mean to me. I am here, Fleur, my little surrogate sister.”

The wind burst from Golden’s lungs at that last line. Thank Goddess, he finally clarified things!

Oh, he was waiting for a response, wasn’t he? Golden scoured her brain in desperation. What to say, what to say?

“Fancy… I…” She winced and glanced away, for once wishing she had Rarity’s quick tongue. “Y-you’re right, there’s something wrong. I wish I could tell you, I really do, but it’s a very personal matter. It’s something I need to work out for myself.”

His shoulders sagged, yet a weak smile came to his lips. “I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you?”

Golden couldn’t resist a smile of her own; he’d said it as if it were one of Fleur’s favorite lines. “You might could say that.”

He sighed and patted her hoof. “So be it, Fleur. I won’t pry any further. Just try to relax, yes? A big brother’s request.”

“I’ll do my best.” Golden held his hoof, surprised at how genuinely appreciative she was of his consideration. “No promises, though.”

Fancy chuckled at the line. “That’s more like it.”

So they were akin to siblings, were they? Golden studied him as he went back to his seat. She was really going to have to completely rethink her image of him after today. She wondered if Rarity was aware of this side of her idol?

Rarity. The terrible thought was back as quick as lightning: what did Golden have that made Rarity like her? Did she have anything? Golden wasn’t wealthy, or smart, or delicate or refined or any of those things.

The thought left a feeling like a knife tearing into her heart, and now that the question was out Golden felt almost desperate to know the answer. Maybe there was nothing. Maybe that was why Rarity kept claiming she was so busy this past month.

Maybe she really was getting tired of Golden.

If she weren’t so desperate to put on a good show for Fancy, Golden might have broken down right then and there.

---

Applejack was brimming with unwholesome curiosity. She knew there had to be more to Golden’s home than met the eye. Perhaps there was some dark family secret or a little quirk that Rarity was unaware of. Being in the pony’s hooves for a vacation would be nice, but if she could find something to incriminate Golden, then she would have a chance to steal away Rarity for herself... for good

She’s been searching the house, examining every nook and cranny. Deep down a voice was screaming at Applejack to stop this nonsense; was she not a decent pony? Yet Applejack feverishly shoved the thought down; this wasn’t about decent ponies. If Golden was decent then she’d have recognized that being with Rarity was wrong and never would have dated her in the first place. She’d have understood that it would never work and quit early to save Rarity the pain.

Over and over again, Applejack reminded herself of her motivations. This was for Rarity’s sake. She was protecting Rarity’s heart, and if that wasn’t a decent thing to do, what was?

Yet, after three hours of scouring, Applejack was coming up empty-hooved. She found herself back in the bedroom, which she’d managed to turn upside down without finding so much as a scrap of evidence towards Golden’s intentions. She’d even scoured the carrot fields, though she made no attempt to ruin the fields themselves; as a farmer, Applejack couldn’t bring herself to undo so much hard work. In that, at least, she could respect Golden.

Was this it? Were these three insignificant rooms all Golden had? And there was nothing. No clues towards any great goals, no showing of overwhelming love, no display of hidden guilt. Really, there was nothing that would even be called Golden’s; it was all heirlooms and trash. Did the pony have anything that was truly hers?

Appleajck grabbed the two pictures on the bed, once again glaring at Golden’s visage. Were these the only things that Golden had added to the place in her whole life? Perhaps the family photo didn’t count; Golden clearly hadn’t taken it. The picture of her and Rarity, then, was the only evidence that this house truly belonged to Golden.

And that filled Applejack with venom. She wasn't finding anything! If she didn't...

No, she couldn't doubt. Surely there was something to show that her suspicions had merit! She wasn't just chomping at the bit for no reason... was she?

Her eyes went to the closet. It was the one place in the house she’d not yet checked. Not expecting to find anything, she tossed the picture aside and made for the half-opened door.

She examined Golden’s practically nonexistent collection of clothes. There was nothing interesting there. Most of it was just winter-weather attire. If Applejack had some kind of criticism for this, she couldn’t find it. Perhaps there was no room for criticism here – after all, Applejack’s closet wasn’t exactly overflowing with fashion collections either.

Her eyes scoured the small space, thoroughly exploring just as they had the rest of the building. They landed upon a curtain on the right side of the tiny room. Curious, she’d not noticed it a second ago. Why would Golden want to keep something separated and out of sight?

Was she hiding something?

A moment of wicked glee came over Applejack as she instinctually snatched the curtain and pulled it open.

Her jaw dropped and she fell to her haunches. There, neatly set on a mannequin atop a small stand, was one of the most astounding dresses Applejack had ever laid eyes on.

A brilliant orange dress, highlighted by gold silk in the skirt, sleeves and linings of the waist. A magnificent orange collar flared like the great tail of a peacock, glimmering with ambers and diamonds that sparkled like stars in the dim light. More gems studded the rest of the dress, which was completed with a set of tall orange boots and a worn amber necklace.

For several long seconds Applejack could only gape at the thing, her mind struggling to process how Golden could have acquired something so magnificent. Even Applejack, who had very little interest in fashion, couldn’t help but be moved by the masterpiece that sat before her.

This had to be a gift from Rarity.

Come to think of it…

Applejack quickly retreated to the bedroom and snatched the picture off bed, the one of Golden and Rarity together. She came back and raised the frame up so she could see the picture next to the dress.

Sure enough, this was the dress Golden was wearing in the image.

But one thing was different: the necklace. The one in the picture looked new and just as magnificent as the dress, but the one on the dress itself, while still polished and shining, was of a much simpler design.

A thought occurred to Applejack. She returned to set the picture on the bed and pulled off Golden’s saddlebags. She searched through them, carefully moving every item she found aside…

There it was. She raised the necklace in her hoof and studied it, mesmerized by amber carrots and emerald leaves. There were even small diamonds to imitate morning dew on the leaves. The whole glorious piece was set to a thin, golden chain.

Applejack returned to the closet, moving slowly for fear of dropping the priceless item. She very carefully returned the necklace to the mannequin and stepped back, taking in the dress in all its splendor.

Rarity had made this.

For Golden.

All the anger that had been simmering within Applejack was gone, replaced by complete uncertainty. She found herself studying the dress very closely, looking for some sort of flaw or loose stitch. She found nothing; the outfit was perfectly preserved. She eyed the walls and the floor; they were spotless. Applejack looked back at the rest of the closet and saw dust and dirt.

Golden was protecting it. She was protecting Rarity’s gift.

This was it. This was the one piece of evidence she’d spent all these hours searching for... but it wasn’t the kind of evidence Applejack had been after.

Applejack realized that she had stumbled upon something of incredible importance, something she’d never even paused to consider in all her bitterness and jealousy: Golden cared about Rarity. All this time Applejack had fretted over what Rarity’s feelings in the relationship might be, but not once had she questioned why Golden was interested in Rarity.

She stepped out of the closet, head low and eyes wide as she thought on the implications of taking this away from Golden. She turned to the bed and lifted up the picture of Rarity and Golden, and this time she looked much closer at Golden. The awkwardness she had seen before wasn't there. No… now she recognized the amazement in Golden’s expression, the glow in her eyes, the wonder of recognizing that Rarity was with her.

Guilt swelled within Applejack’s chest. She set the picture aside with a weak sigh and lifted the other one.

Golden and her family. Her parents had died a long time ago. Applejack thought on the heirlooms on the walls of the kitchen, of the clutter in that other bedroom. It was all she had left of them, wasn’t it? Was Golden preserving what was left of a family long gone? It was no secret that she was the only Harvest left in Ponyville.

She was living in this old, creaky, lonesome house.

She went to stare in the mirror, at Golden’s face that was now set with a deep, sorrowful frown and big, uncertain eyes. Golden had nothing… nothing but Rarity, who had clearly become so phenomenally important in her life. What would happen if she lost something so special?

Golden didn’t have a grandmother to comfort her and tell her happy stories when things become too much to bear. She didn’t have a big brother to talk sense into her when she needed it, or a little sister to play with when she was feeling down. If she lost Rarity…

…she’d be all alone.

Alone with nothing but her mementos.

“Ah’m sorry.” Applejack pressed a hoof against the glass as she gazed into Golden’s shame-filled eyes. “Ah’m so sorry. Ah don’t know what came over me. Ah mean, Ah was jealous, yeah, but Ah didn’t even think about your feelin’s…”

She set the pictures back in place, then went to close the protective curtain over the dress. Applejack wasn’t so judging when she stepped into the kitchen and observed its lackluster appearance. Why hadn’t she seen it before? Golden was such a hard worker with her carrots and her stand, and then she was trying to spend time with Rarity…

She just didn’t have enough time to do everything.

An idea hit Applejack, and she immediately set to work. She cleaned the kitchen, did dishes, even went out to get some flowers for that vase – after washing it, of course. She returned to the other bedroom and set everything back exactly as she’d found it, cleaning up all the dust and grime of years of inactivity. Even if Golden was unaware of Applejack’s harsh thoughts towards her, something had to be done to right the wrong. Applejack was determined to make things up to Golden, and made a solemn vow to befriend the pony and learn more about her.

She gradually became more and more pleased with herself as she worked. She realized that all the anger and jealousy had been poisonous to her mind. If she would just have been decent and tried to learn a little more, to find out the truth – to be honest in her intentions – she’d have never descended to such depths.

But by the time Applejack was finished with the house it was well into the afternoon… and Golden still hadn’t arrived. She’d thought for certain the pony would have come in by now. Was something holding her up? Maybe something had gone wrong?

Applejack had been thinking carefully about their odd situation. In the end she’d concluded that there was only one thing to do, the same thing that always made sense when something undoubtedly magical had occurred: go see Twilight.

But Applejack couldn’t do that until Golden showed up… and she was taking far too long to do so.

Applejack made the only decision that made sense in her mind: she would go home. If Golden was on her way, they’d probably bump into one another between locations. If not… well, Applejack would hopefully find out why.

And so she left for Sweet Apple Acres, pausing only to grab Golden’s pack and lock the door behind her.

---

Golden was miserable. No matter how much she tried not to think on it, she couldn’t get her questions regarding Rarity out of her head. She knew she was putting on a poor show for Fancy Pants and that he was growing more and more worried by the minute.

They were strolling through the gardens by now, close to the looming mansion. Fancy was clearly trying his best to cheer her up with conversation. It wasn’t working, but at least Golden could keep up and feign interest. By now it was clear that he knew her well enough to not be fooled, but it was the thought that counted, right?

Her ears perked; he’d mentioned Rarity. It was an off-hoof comment, yes, but it was enough to really catch her attention.

Suddenly Golden realized she might have an opportunity, and she felt foolish for missing it.

“Tell me,” she said as soon as she found the chance, “how is Rarity? I’ve not seen her in a little while.”

“Busy,” Fancy declared with a chuckle. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the mare had no concept of ‘free time.’”

That was a little reassuring; at the very least it showed that Rarity was honest about not having time to spend with her in this past month. But now Golden was genuinely curious; Rarity idolized Fancy. What did he think of her?

“So I guess you’ve not had the opportunity to chat with her recently.”

“On the contrary, she came to me not long ago for assistance.” Fancy removed his monocle to examine it for dust, eyebrows lowered. He blew on it a couple times and rubbed it with a handkerchief from his coat pocket. “The mare foalishly seems to think that I am the best pony to talk to regarding relationships.”

Two thoughts cracked against Golden’s borrowed skull in tandem: that she clearly had underestimated Rarity’s relationship with Fancy, and that she may have unintentionally stumbled upon a gold mine.

She offered a weak smile. “Y-you don’t say? Something to do with that pony she’s with, no doubt?”

She silently pleaded for an affirmation…

He nodded. “Indeed. I honestly have no idea why she thinks I would have all the answers to her little social problems, but she is a friend and I tried to be helpful.”

Social problems? Golden wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. “So… what kind of problems was she having?”

He blushed and averted his eyes. “Oh, she just wanted to… how did she put it? Spice things up? Not exactly a topic I’m skilled at, as you know.”

Golden blushed, her smile going lopsided. Rarity wanted to add spice to their relationship? What exactly was she planning? This was… good news, wasn’t it? Then again, maybe it was a sign that Golden wasn’t doing the things she was supposed to?

“What did you recommend?”

“A vacation,” he muttered, fiddling with his tie as his cheeks grew an extra shade of red. “I suggested she take her mare-friend to Prance. I… well, it was the only thing I could think of.”

“Oh.” Golden’s eyes went wide as she considered the implications of this. “Did she take your advice?”

“That’s why she’s so busy.”

To pay for the trip.

Golden’s heart hammered in her throat; Rarity really did have a good excuse! Suddenly she wasn’t so sure she liked having the surprise ruined. Then again, as she thought on her conversation with Rarity the other day before the auction, had she not hinted at a surprise?

Had Rarity intended to drop the news on her that evening?

All of this was wonderful news, but it didn’t do anything to answer Golden’s most troublesome mental query of why Rarity was putting up with her. Yes, ‘putting up.’ By now her self-doubt was forming into pessimism and a genuine fear that her relationship with Rarity wasn’t as perfect as she’d hoped, at least from Rarity’s side. What if this vacation – this need to ‘spice things up’ – was a desperate move on Rarity’s part to find a reason to keep up the relationship?

All of a sudden Golden had just one desire: to go home and do everything she could to keep her mare-friend.

“Well, if we’re done talking about my friends,” Fancy said with a relieved sigh and a bump against Golden’s shoulder, “why don’t we move on to yours? Tell me, is there any chance I’ll be meeting him soon?”

Golden blinked, her fretful train of thought derailed. “…him?”

He raised a thick eyebrow. “Yes, him. You know, that Fine Crime fellow? I still haven’t had a chance to thank him for his part in properly introducing me to Princess Luna. You do remember telling me you’d arrange a meeting, yes?”

Fine Crime? Golden knew of him. Rumor had it he lived in a mansion in the Everfree Forest, but she had never met him personally. Wasn’t he friends with Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie?

Realizing Fancy was waiting for a response, Golden’s mind worked frantically, but it was caught in a wave of combined astonishments. Fancy knew Fine Crime? And Fleur was friends with Fine Crime?

If Fine helped Fancy meet the Princess Luna… that had to mean Fine knew Luna, too.

Suddenly Fine Crime – a pony Golden hardly knew, certainly never thought about and hadn’t appeared at all important to the situation at hoof – seemed to be a very important pony.

…

FC.

Golden’s eyes went wide in understanding.

“My ears are burning.”

Golden and Fancy let out simultaneous shouts and turned to the source of the new voice.

The stallion was tall, albeit shorter than Fancy, and thin. He wore a very nice black vest with red trim and was smirking from beneath his black mane. He lifted a dapple brown hoof to rub his chest with a grin.

“I love when I get that kind of reaction.”

Fancy took a moment to straighten his monocle before shooting the newcomer a critical frown. “I say, when did you arrive?”

“Just now.” The pony stepped up to them and shot Golden a charming grin. “Fleur invited me, and for that I am very appreciative. My apologies for being late.”

Oh… Golden managed a weak smile and nodded to her host. “Of course! You don’t mind, do you Fancy?”

“Not particularly,” he replied, though his frown didn’t waver. “I am simply not appreciative of ponies sneaking up on me in my own home.”

“Then I apologize again.” Fine Crime’s voice abruptly became very formal. “I didn’t mean to cause a stir. Stealth is my special talent; sometimes I end up sneaking upon ponies without realizing what I’m doing. Please understand.”

At that Fancy’s frown finally broke. He stood up properly and nodded with a smile. “Stealth! I thought I remembered the name, and now I see the face it all comes back. I must say I’d forgotten your special talent, but that’s what happens when two old soldiers have been apart for so long.”

“Oh, so you do remember me from the isles.” Fine raised a hoof, which Fancy accepted. "I don't think I formally introduced myself even back then. Fine Crime, at your service."

“I didn’t remember at first, but a few days after the Week of Nightmares I recalled.” Fancy beamed, his eyes shining with a distant memory. “Fleur and I probably owe you our lives. I wish I had known the two of you had stayed in touch all these years.”

Fine gained a wicked smile and turned his attention to Golden, who straightened up at the sudden attention..

“Yes, why didn’t you tell him about our work together, Fleur?”

Her jaw dropped, her pupils shrank. How to counter this? She fumbled with her words for a few seconds, noting that Fancy’s eyes were also on her. “Y-you… I mean… Umm… You… could have told him yourself at any time! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Fine waved a dismissive hoof. “I’m always so busy, I guess it just slipped my mind. Sorry, Fancy, even the Most Important Pony in Canterlot gets overlooked every now and then.”

Fancy chuckled. “That actually makes me feel a little more comfortable, so thank you.”

“In that case, you’re welcome.” Fine sat and turned to offer his full, smirking attention on Fancy. “So tell me, how’d the date with Luna go?”

Date? Golden eyed Fancy with wide eyes; had he actually landed a romantic rendezvous with a princess? He really was the most Important Pony in Canterlot, wasn’t he?

Fancy rubbed his mustache, his cheeks turning pink as he averted his eyes. “If you are hoping I will claim to have become Luna’s partner, I’ll have to disappoint you. We have become very good friends in the past few months, if it makes you feel better.”

Fine shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting you two to become romantic, anyway. I’m not sure there’s a pony that ever lived – or will – who could win her heart, but it is nice to see her making some friends for a change.”

Feeling left out of the conversation and knowing she needed to speak up, Golden fought for something to add.

“I’m not sure you told me how you met the princess.”

Fine’s lips curled up in a wicked smile. “Oh, you mean I never told you that story?”

He looked to Golden’s blank face, then to Fancy’s curious one. After a few seconds he stood tall and declared, “I swatted Celestia and Cadance each on the rump! Luna was pissed because I overlooked her fine flank, so she found me in my dreams and made me do it with a huge bucking paddle! And a whip. And an alligator.”

Golden gaped at him, her jaw loose. Fancy’s shoulder’s sagged as he attained a bemused frown.

Fine looked to each of them before sighing. “What, not even chuckle? Fine; she hired me for a project a few years ago.”

Golden glowered at him. “Rarity had told me you were a chronic liar, but I didn’t realize just how blatant the lies were.” She winced; why did she have to mentioned Rarity?

Fancy raised an eyebrow her way. “Rarity knows him as well?”

Fine pointed a hoof at Fancy. “And on that note—” he turned the hoof to Fleur, “—this is a golden opportunity to talk to you about something very important for the both of us. Fancy, do you mind if I take Fleur off your hooves?”

Golden stared at Fine’s hoof, then at Fine himself. He had a wry smile and a playful glint in his eye.

She thought she knew exactly what he wanted to talk about.

“But you only just arrived. I was rather hoping we could finish our—”

“No, Fancy.” Golden gave him an apologetic frown and set a hoof to his shoulder. “I’m sorry, but something tells me this is not something that can wait. Do forgive me.”

Fancy sagged a little, but recovered quickly. “If you insist, but do come back soon. I miss our talks.”

She smiled as his momentary showing of weakness. “As do I. I promise to try and make my visits more frequent.”

Fine offered an apology to the elite stallion before leading Golden down the brick path. He was moving away from the mansion at a leisurely pace as she caught up.

She eyed him, a combination of relief and worry filling her. “You know, don’t you?”

He nodded. “Indeed I do. Tell me… did I get the name right?”

She chewed her lip. “How did you know I’m Golden? How do you know about any of this?”

He frowned and shook his head. “Actually I took a guess; I figured I had a one-in-three chance of getting the right name. Regarding—”

“One in three?” She stopped him with a hoof to his shoulder. “You mean Fleur and I aren’t the only ones who switched?”

He raised an eyebrow. “If I read the reports correctly, you two weren’t the only ones caught in the shockwave.”

She blinked… then began to think on the events of last night. The chase, the alleyway, wrestling with that Caballeron guy…

Her eyebrows rose. “Trixie and Applejack.”

“Bingo.” Fine turned off the path and into a hedge maze. “From what I’m told, all four of you were within range of the anklet’s effects, so that means all four of your were affected.”

“Anklet?” Golden searched her brain for something to make sense of his words. “What anklet?”

He sighed and turned to set his hooves on her shoulders – at which point she noted he was actually shorter than her – and looked her directly in the eye. “Listen, you don’t have time for a debriefing. If the four of you can’t go back to your normal bodies within twenty-four hours of the switch, you’ll be stuck as Fleur for good.”

The air flew from Golden’s lungs as she took this in. She spent several seconds just staring at him. “But… b-but I can’t be Fleur forever!” She grabbed his legs. “You know how to fix this, don’t you? Tell me you know how to fix this!”

He offered a reassuring smile. “I know how to fix this.”

Golden sagged. “Thank Goddess! So go ahead, fix it.”

“As if it were that simple.” He tugged, encouraging her to follow as he resumed walking through the maze. “There’s an artifact called the Ring of Mudarra. Some old unicorn whose name you don’t need to know made it to maintain his immortality by trading bodies with fresh young ponies. You need to find the pieces and the other ponies with switched bodies, then put the ring – it’s actually an anklet – back together.”

Golden’s struggled to lodge the burst of information into her brain. “How do you know all this? Where are the pieces? And how the buck am I supposed to get back to Ponyville before—”

Her words caught in her throat as they rounded a corner and entered a clearing. There stood two dark sapphire chariots, each with a team of darkly-armored royal guards.

“Are those… Princess Luna’s royal chariots?”

“Borrowed,” Fine replied. “With permission, of course. This way you can get to the town in no time.”

Golden sat and gaped at the two chariots, then turned her eyes on Fine. All this time she’d thought he was just some hermit! “Fine… how did you…”

Fine rolled his eyes. “You have got to stop asking so many questions! You don’t have time. I know it doesn’t make much sense, but if you want to go back to being Golden Harvest you need to trust me. I promise to explain everything once this little disaster has been righted. Go, find the ponies in Applejack’s and your bodies. Everything will work out.”

“But how can you be—”

“Go!”

He shoved her towards the nearest chariot and she leapt in without thinking. The four-pegasi team immediately launched, toppling her to the floor. By the time she was able to right herself the mansion was already far below… and her stomach turned upside down.

She sank down in her seat and held her midsection with a groan; there was a reason she’d never liked the idea of flying! Her mind worked frantically, struggling to piece together what Fine Crime had told her. She had so many questions! How could he just send her off like this with so little to go on?

Then again… perhaps it wasn’t important. Perhaps he’d told her enough. Golden understood enough to realize that Trixie was probably responsible for this, and if Fine knew Fleur was involved then she might know about the Ring, too. If so, then it was a guarantee that one of the ponies she needed to find would know what he was talking about and what to do.

Golden raised her trembling hooves, taking in their pale colors and soft appearance. She couldn’t stay in this body. She had to get back to Rarity, to fix this so they could go to Prance together. To think, all this time she’d thought the mare was growing disinterested!

Then again, maybe she was.

Golden was almost desperate to see her marefriend again… but no, not until she was back in her own body. It would feel wrong otherwise.

What if she couldn’t find all the pieces of this ring? How was she even supposed to know where to look? And she only had until tonight to find them!

One more thing slipped through her mind, something Fine had said. He wanted her to find her own body and Applejack’s.

…what about Trixie?

---

Trixie was sweating more than the pigs, she was covered in grit and dirt and twigs, and all in all she’d performed more physical labor in one morning than she’d managed in the last year entirely.

The strangest thing about all this?

She was enjoying herself.

“Come on, you can move faster than that!” She bucked a pair of rotten apples, one aimed high and the other low. Apple Bloom, huffing but grinning all the same, had to move fast to catch them in her bucket.

“Nnope!” Big Mac, situated opposite Apple Bloom, tossed a few more and the filly scrambled to keep up.

Trixie was laughing, and she didn’t even know why. “I’ll make you drop one eventually!” Whack, whack, two more rotten apples flew, but the filly proved remarkably fast and the apples ended up in her bucket.

Trixie offered a mock scowl at the filly, who smirked in response even as she moved to catch another pair of apples. A cursory glance revealed that she was down to just two left.

Big Mac lifted his hooves to show that he too was low on ammo. He winked and signaled, and Trixie understood his intention.

“What’s the matter, ya’ll?” Apple Bloom turned a circle, the bucket shifting about on her head as she eyed her siblings. “Come on, fire them last ones. Unless ya’ll’r chicken!”

“Nnope!”

“Try this!”

Trixie and Big Mac lobbed their weapons in unison, and the filly’s eyes went wide. “Oh, horseapples.”

Apple Bloom made a valiant show of it; she leaned left to catch one of Trixie’s apples, kicked her leg up to knock one of Big Mac’s straight up, then retreated back to catch it and his other one.

The fourth whacked her right on the cheek.

Apple Bloom toppled, but even as she did she somehow managed to keep the basket from spilling its contents. She landed with an oomph on her belly, face smeared with bad apple juices.

For an instant Trixie felt a surge of guilt and worry… but then Apple Bloom was on her hooves and giggling. Once again her resilience astounded.

“Ah’m getting’ real good at that,” Apple Bloom remarked. “Ah’m lots better than I was a year ago, right big brother?”

“Eeyup!” Big Mac was already carrying the basket to the pig pen, pausing only to let his kid sister toss the last apple in.

Trixie approached, eyeing the nauseating gunk on her ‘sister’s’ face. “Wow, Ah don’t think that makeup suits you, AB.” She was still struggling with the accent.

Apple Bloom took on a haughty pose and imitated strutting down a catwalk. “Why, Ah think ya’ll just don’t share my fine taste in fashion.” She could hold the pose for only a few seconds before she and Trixie both broke out into raucous laughter.

“But really, let me go wash this off,” the filly remarked once she’d recovered. “It smells almost as bad as you do.”

They made for the water hose and were met there by Granny Smith and Big Mac. The ancient mare patted Apple Bloom on the head with a chuckle at the sight of her messy cheek. “Ah was gonna invite ya’ll ta take a break and have some apple fritters ta get yer energy up, but Ah can see one of ya already had somethin’.”

Apple Bloom smirked, opened her mouth to speak… and was hosed. Trixie and Granny Smith laughed as Big Mac, nozzle set in his teeth, chased the filly around the yard for several seconds. Before long he turned the water on Trixie, who fled amidst her laughter before catching her ‘sister’ and using her as a shield.

“Hey!” Apple Bloom squirmed in her hooves as she was drenched. “No fair!”

Granny Smith patted Big Mac on the shoulder. “Get ‘em! Make ‘em nice an—” She sputtered as he shot a stream of water in her face.

The farm went silent as Granny Smith’s eyelids lowered and her jaw went rigid. Big Mac dropped the hose and took a step back, Apple Bloom and Trixie shared wide eyed looks. Granny’s hooves rose to tighten her hair knot before she dropped to an aggressive pose.

“Sonny… ya’ll have no idea who yer messin’ with.”

She promptly grabbed the hose off the ground and turned it on Big McIntosh.

“Nnope!”

He attempted to flee, but was already pinned between the barn and the pig pen. With nowhere to run, he stood his ground and took his liquid beatings like a big colt.

They were all soaked to the bone and giggling by the time they made their way into the house. Trixie didn’t even think about drying off; by now she was more than accustomed to her ‘family’s’ ways. She nudged Apple Bloom with an elbow and winked.

“So, how’d I do for my first day, huh?”

Apple Bloom paused to examine her with a judging, haughty eye before turning her head away with a hmmph. “Ah dunno… yer not bad. Fer a rookie. Maybe in ten years Ah’ll have ya beaten inta shape.”

Trixie grinned with a hoof over her heart. “Oh, thank you, boss! That means so much to me, really.”

Apple Bloom maintained the act as she waved a dismissive hoof. “Ah, don’t get used ta it.”

She held the pose for about two seconds before her smile cracked and she started to giggle, and Trixie followed suit.

“C’mon, you two,” Granny Smith called from the kitchen. “Quit yer gabbin’ and start yer gobblin’! These fritters ain’t gonna stay hot forever.”

“Eeyup.”

Apple Bloom ran ahead, disappearing into the kitchen. “Come on, Applejack!”

Trixie watched her go, an unfamiliar feeling swelling within her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d ever felt so… warm. From Apple Bloom’s playful instruction, Big Mac’s sturdy and quiet kindness to Granny Smith’s occasional ramblings, everything felt so good about this place. Sure, she’d worked her tail off doing mundane and difficult farm chores…

…but with them around, the work didn’t seem as mundane and difficult as Trixie had expected.

She joined them at the table, delighting in the taste of the family’s apple fritters. Flakey and crunchy on the outside, warm and soft on the inside. Trixie’s never had a fritter before – of any flavor variety – but she hoped she could get her hooves on some more in the future.

“Is it okay if Ah head out after this?” Apple Bloom was directing the question at Trixie. “Ah’m supposed ta meet the girls at the clubhouse. Scootaloo says she has an ‘awesome’ idea fer a new crusade.”

Why was she asking Trixie? Wouldn’t this be a question for Big McIntosh or Granny Smith? But it was aimed at her, and it was clear neither of the others would be making a decision.

Trixie had no idea what a ‘crusade’ was, but it was clearly meant to be something fun. Perhaps Apple Bloom had done enough for today? But if she left, then who would Trixie turn to for help with learning the rest of the chores? Then again, she could always focus on apple bucking; Applejack’s physically superb body made that an easy task and – if the orchard was anything to go by – it was clearly in need of doing.

“You go have fun,” Trixie replied at last. A ‘crusade’ didn’t sound particularly safe, so she added, “And be careful.”

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes as she vacuumed down the last of her apple fritters. “Don’t worry, we will.”

A quick gulp of apple juice later and she was out the door.

Seeking to dodge any extra responsibilities early, Trixie turned to Big McIntosh. “Ah think I’ll get back to apple buckin’ when we’re done here. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

“Eeyup.” He chugged his own, much larger glass of juice. “Ah can handle the other chores fer today.”

Well, that was surprisingly easy. The rest of her day was set, so she could—

“AJ, you’ve got a visitor!”

Trixie blinked, her ears perking. A guest? Who would be…

Her heart abruptly sank: Applejack. Who else? She knew she should be rejoicing at this news… but as she cast her slow gaze around at the kitchen and her ‘family,’ she couldn’t help feeling disappointed.

“Yeah… I’m coming.”

But the pony Trixie found at the front door was not who she expected: it was a yellow mare with an orange mane. Trixie vaguely recognized her as being Rarity's date at the auction, but she’d never learned the pony’s name.

Great… she was going to be expected to know who this is. She glanced over the pony’s shoulder to see Apple Bloom already galloping off into the orchard.

Sighing, she turned her attention back to her visitor, who was watching her with a firm frown. “Umm… hello.”

“We need ta talk.” The pony gestured with her head. “In private. In the barn.”

Trixie blinked; she wasn’t sure she liked her tone. “We do?”

“Yes. Right now.” She stepped back and waited, her solemn face brooking no argument.

Trixie hesitated, casting a glance back towards the kitchens. The others were nowhere to be seen. “What’s this about?”

“You know what it’s about,” the pony hissed. “You. Me. Last night. Auction. Now come on.”

Trixie’s eyebrows rose; she knew? How? “Uh… yeah… in the barn.” She turned her head back to the kitchen. “Be back in a jiffy, ya’ll!” She winced at how bad her accent was just then. “Gotta… uh… take care of something important.”

She followed the pony towards the barn, but she wasn’t led inside; instead the pony opened up the cellar door and brought her downstairs. The cellar was larger than it looked and filled with large barrels. It was dark and quiet and clearly a safe place to hide.

Once they were situated in a corner, Trixie shot the newcomer a worried look. “Now how do you know about the auction?”

“Don’t give me that, Golden,” the pony snapped. “Drop the act, already. We need ta figure out how ta get our bodies back, an’ Ah mean now!”

“Golden?” Trixie raised an eyebrow. “Whose Golden?”

The pony paused, her eyes going wide. For several seconds she could only gape at Trixie. “Golden… Ah mean… you’re Golden… aren’t you?”

“I’m Applejack,” Trixie corrected, her mind running in circles. “At least that’s what the ponies on this farm call me. Wait—” she pointed with both hooves at her companion, “—is this… body of yours… is that supposed to be this ‘Golden’ pony?”

Golden patted her own chest demonstrably. “You mean ya don’t recognize yourself?”

“That’s not me,” Trixie corrected with a frown. “What makes you think—”

Golden let out an aggravated shout and tapped Trixie’s head. “But yer Golden, in here! Aren’t ya?”

“No!” Trixie pushed the leg away. “I’m Trixie.”

The pony’s jaw dropped and her eyes became saucers. “T… Trixie? Yer… Trixie?”

“Yes!” A wave of relief came over Trixie; finally, something was making sense! “Who are you?”

“Ah’m…” The pony’s hooves moved mechanically, pointing first at Trixie, then herself, then Trixie again. “Ah’m… Ah’m you.”

Trixie raised an eyebrow, considered this answer… then felt her chest tighten. She looked down at her unfamiliar orange body, then at the pony.

“Applejack?”

Applejack nodded her yellow head, lips working soundlessly.

Trixie fell to her haunches, her mind once again running in circles. “B-but… that can’t be right! I was certain. If you’re in Golden’s body, and I’m in yours… where’s my body?”

Applejack shook her head. “Ah… Ah have no idea. But… does this mean Golden is in yer body?”

Trixie scratched her aching head. “Maybe? …hopefully.”

“So…” Applejack sat and tapped her forehooves together as she chewed her lip. “G-give me a second. Ah gotta think…”

“A second. Right.” Trixie covered her face in her hooves and exhaled slowly. Okay… so Applejack wasn’t in her body. No big deal, they’d just have to find it. Find her body and they’d find Golden. That made sense, right? So what happened to her body?

Goddess… after what she did at the auction, Golden might be in a lot of trouble. She could even be in a dungeon somewhere. Trixie had no interest in spending the rest of her days a prisoner, but she wasn’t about to let another pony do the time in her place!

No, that was pessimistic thinking. Trixie needed to be positive! That wasn’t her strong suite, lately…

Trixie’s thought were interrupted by a hoof pressing against her chest. She looked up to find Applejack glaring daggers and promptly shrank away. “W-what?”

“Is this yer fault?”

Trixie winced. “I… I don’t know. It might be. But it was an accident, I swear.”

“An accident, huh?” Applejack rubbed her yellow hoof against her chin, green eyes critical. “So do ya know how ta fix it?”

Trixie’s lip trembled as she realized her situation. Her record was already so bad… but she wasn’t about to lie to the Bearer of Honesty, so she slowly shook her head.

Applejack threw up her hooves with a shout. “Of course ya don’t! Yer on real thin ice with me already, Trixie. Ah better not be stuck like this forever.”

“Trixie’s sorry, okay?” Trixie turned away with head bowed and shame in her heart. “I don’t even know what I did to make this happen. I want to make things right. Don’t condemn Trixie without even giving me a trial!”

She sat and glowered at her orange hooves. For the billionth time she cursed her reputation.

She felt a hoof on her shoulder. “Ah’m sorry… yer right. Here Ah am, jumpin’ ta conclusions when Ah’m sure yer day has been about as bad as mine, if not worse.”

Trixie couldn’t resist a small chuckle. “Actually… this has been a great day.” She looked up to offer a weak smile. “You have a wonderful family. I… I wish I could spend more time with them.”

She turned away once more, tears welling unbidden to her eyes. “It felt so good to be welcomed for a change.”

Applejack stood before her with head cocked and a concerned frown on her lips. “What about yer own family?”

Trixie eyed her, ears laid back and heart low. “I don’t have a family. Never did.”

“Oh…” Applejack stepped back, raising a hoof as she stared down at Trixie. “Ah… uh… sorry. Ah didn’t know.”

“It’s okay.” Trixie sagged. “Nopony ever bothers to ask.”

Applejack made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan.

Memories of the day drifted through Trixie’s mind; Apple Bloom teaching her how to buck the trees with the right pose, Big McIntosh galloping halfway across the orchard with the filly on his back, replacing the old hay in the barn and leaping out the loft onto haystacks.

The sweat. The toil.

The companionship.

“Do you…” Trixie sniffed and tried to recover her emotions. She looked up at Applejack with imploring eyes. “Do you think, when this is all over…. I might stop by to visit sometime? Every now and then? I c-can help around the farm.”

Applejack gazed upon her. Her eyes were wide. “Really?”

Trixie bowed her head once more and said nothing. She waited, hoping that she wouldn’t completely lose what she’d found today. She prayed to Luna that Applejack would be as nice a pony as the rumors claimed…

“Sure.”

“Really?” Trixie’s head and ears popped up.

Applejack smiled nervously and rubbed the back of her head. “Yeah, really. Hard ta say ‘no’ ta a face like—”

Trixie embraced her with shaking hooves and a bursting heart. “Thank you! You have no idea what this means to me.”

“Whoa, there, calm down.” Applejack patted her on the back with a small chuckle. “If Rarity sees this she might get jealous.”

A grin slowly came upon Trixie’s face and she only tightened her hold. “I will make this up to you. I promise, I’ll make it all up. I don’t know how, I don’t know when… but it will happen. Thank you so much, Applejack.”

“Alright, already.” Applejack pulled away from her with cheeks burning. “Ah get it, yer thrilled!” She offered a crooked grin. “Sorry, Ah just… It feels real awkward being hugged by myself.”

Trixie giggled. “I understand. So…” She sat and gestured to herself and Applejack. “What do we do about this?”

“Well… Ah dunno.” Applejack rubbed her chin once more. “Ah guess there’s only one thing ta do: talk ta an expert. Come on.”

Trixie raised an eyebrow, but did as she was told.

---

Depression hung over Fleur’s head like an ugly black cloud. She’d given up trying to catch the attention of her two agents some time ago, realizing that they were intent on keeping her here. The pegasus in the other cell never woke up, leaving Fleur alone to her thoughts. That proved quite the roller coaster ride.

First came horror, a terrible idea that they actually wanted her to remain stuck as Trixie for the rest of her life. She was above begging, but that was a very long hour of shivering in the corner and wishing she could be anywhere else.

Then came rage. How could they do this to her? She was a Lieutenant of the Dark Archons of Equestria, one of the favorite agents of the Mane Archon himself! She’d captured psychopaths, evaded the clutches of lecherous lords, even survived dragon’s fire! She had screamed her fury and raged about the cell, the lack of objects to take her anger out on only making it worse.

Then there was the calm introspection; what had she done to deserve this? Was it because she’d failed to acquire the Ring of Mudarra? Had her coldness towards Trixie rubbed somepony the wrong way? When it all came down to it, was she just a stuck up city pony undeserving of the great responsibilities set before her? Perhaps she should have stayed on her little island off the Bay of Trotaloosa.

Fine had to be so disappointed in her.

That understanding brought the fear back to her; what if Fine himself had ordered this? What if he was trying to teach her a lesson? Perhaps he intended to trap her in the body of Trixie so that she could live the rest of her days facing ridicule and shame. Then again, Trixie might be set to go to prison after this. Was Fleur’s punishment to carry out that sentence in her place?

The more she thought on it, the more Fleur feared that was the case. The thought left her miserable, but as she watched the angle of the light shift in the window down the hall she grew more and more convinced. If they didn’t let her out soon she would never make it to Ponyville in time.

Now Fleur was sitting in the middle of the cell, her horn – Trixie’s horn? – glowing brightly. Before her were the water and food bowls, which rotated in the air along as many paths as she could think up. Part of the practice was to alleviate her boredom, another part to distract from her depressed state.

In the back of her mind, she knew she was also preparing herself; if she was going to be stuck in this body, she might as well learn its limitations.

There was just one catch: she couldn’t find those limitations. The more Fleur worked with Trixie’s horn, the more she realized that their files grossly misjudged Trixie’s magical power. That pegasus in the other cell had been sleeping for hours on a spell that was supposed to last only thirty minutes!

The bowls were moving in a blur, one shimmering red and the other followed by a crackling, electric blue wake. The ceiling was covered in black clouds, the rain pouring down but leaving Fleur and the room bone dry. Ghost ponies, their black bodies nondescript and anonymous, wandered aimlessly in her cell and the hall beyond. Fleur’s tail was invisible to the naked eye, her legs shimmered like diamonds, and a calm classical piece could be heard from her slumbering neighbor’s cell.

So many illusions, all working in tandem, all under her continuous control… and she could cast more. It was mind-boggling; on her own Fleur was limited to four spells at best, but some of these were high-level spells that normally would have required all her concentration! She couldn’t imagine what this level of magical capacity would lead to in a pony with dark intentions.

So why was Trixie considered below subpar by even the Archon files?

Fleur wanted her body back – she loved who she was and what she did – but she had to acknowledge that there were worse trades.

“Having fun?”

Fleur’s heart rocketed into her throat and the aura above her horn disappeared with an audible crack. In an instant the illusions were gone and the two bowls dropped to the floor with a pair of noisy clangs. Her eyes were wide and her throat unusable as she turned to find her boss, Fine Crime, staring solemnly at her from behind the cell bars.

“F-Fine…” Fleur set a hoof to her chest and sucked down a calming breath. “You have no idea how good it is to see you. Do you… do you know what happened?”

“Oh yes,” he grumbled, his rosewood eyes peering, “I know exactly what happened, Fleur.”

Her entire body slumped as a long breath escaped her lips. “Oh, thank Luna! Now I can get out of here and fix this. When this is over I have an agent I’d like to report for insubordination.”

She walked to the cell door… but it didn’t open. She blinked and glanced at Fine, who hadn’t moved. “Fine?”

He sat and adjusted his vest, his expression hard. “Which one?”

“Which one?”

He looked away from her with head held high. “Which agent?”

She stared at him for several seconds, then started scouring her memory. Indeed, which one? The older one for certain, but…

Fine peered at her with one eye. “You don’t even know his name, do you?”

She scowled. “It wasn’t important to know who he was, just that he would do the job.”

“Really?” Fine matched her expression… but when Fine scowled, ponies paid attention.

Fleur felt her heart sinking at the smoldering fire in his eyes. “I… well…”

“I am very disappointed in you, Fleur.”

She winced and bowed her head. “But… but why? Because I failed to get the Ring of Mudarra?”

He shook his head with a sigh. “That has nothing to do with it. The fact that you don’t know that is only more disappointing. Deep Depths was right, you need an attitude adjustment.”

Fleur’s head jerked up, her jaw dropped. “An attitude adjustment? I don’t know what this is all about, but he was there! If he thought I was doing something wrong he should have said something!”

“Double-D has been with the Archons longer than I have,” Fine noted, his voice lecturing. “He did exactly what he should have done. He was in a live mission with assets and targets in motion. One does not question one’s superiors when seconds can make the difference between victory or defeat. He kept his yap shut, obeyed his senior officer to the letter and relayed his complaints to me after the fact.”

Understanding hit her like a hammer. She gazed at her boss – one of the very few ponies in Equestria she trusted – and felt only shame. “You gave him permission to leave me here, didn’t you?”

He scrutinized her as if she were a bug in need of squashing. “So tell me, how does it feel to know your life is over?”

“Over?” She set her forehooves on the bars to gape at him. “What do you mean, over?”

He sneered and turned away from her. “You were planning on putting Trixie – an innocent pony – in prison, possibly for the rest of her life. Well, now you’re Trixie. In the world of literature that’s called poetic justice.”

Fleur thought an ice pick had been jabbed into her chest. “Y-you… you’re not actually considering leaving me here… are you?”

Seconds ticked by. Long, nerve-wracking, terrible seconds.

Fine didn’t budge.

Fleur whimpered and pressed against the bars, looking at the back of his head with pleading eyes. “Y-you can’t! I’m your best lieutenant, you said so yourself! Who would replace me?”

“Deep Depths will probably do nicely,” he answered without any hesitation.

“You can’t be serious!”

“Funny.” He glanced over his shoulder with a gaze as cold as ice. “I would have said the same thing about you.”

Good Goddess, he was serious. Fleur’s heart pounded against her chest as she realized that everything she’d worked towards for the past ten years was about to collapse around her.

Now was not the time for half measures.

“Please!” She dropped to her lowest bow, body trembling and mind frantic. “Fine, the Archons are my life! I’m sorry, I should have been more considerate, I get it—”

“Do you?” She looked up to find her boss glaring down upon her, his teeth bared and his horn shining red with his anger. “All those years prancing around with the Canterlot elites has turned you into a real witch. You don’t have the slightest idea why what you’ve done is wrong, you’re just saying what you think I want to hear.”

“That’s not true!”

Fleur jumped back as he slammed his forehooves against the bars, steam billowing from his nostrils. She couldn’t help but feel a real fear at his anger; this was a pony who’d slain dragons, who’d spent more than half his life surviving off murder, who’d devoted the majority of his career as the single deadliest assassin of the world’s deadliest organization.

He was the last pony Fleur wanted to anger.

For several seconds she stood in the center of the cell, shivering and wishing she could be anywhere else. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his vicious gaze, nor could she think of anything she might say to sooth him. But after a few seconds Fine stepped back from the bars, and Fleur relaxed. A little.

Fine reached into his vest and pulled out a file. He waved it at her with a sneer. “This is Trixie’s file. Did you even read it? Let me tell you exactly what you’ve done.” He retrieved a pair of glasses from his vest and put them on before opening the file.

“Trixie Lulamoon. Born in Hoofington, twenty years old, not even a gradeschool education.” He flipped some pages, reading in silence for a few seconds. Fleur could do nothing but wait and listen, shame and confusion filling her. She had read the file… well, most of it. The important parts.

“She’s already committed crimes,” Fleur ventured hopefully. “She even shut down Ponyville for re… reven…” Her words died in her throat as he peered at her from over the file. She turned her head away and chewed her lip, obediently waiting for him to continue.

“Yes,” Fine finally went on. “Trixie has made some mistakes. She lost a lot because of those mistakes; her wagon, which was custom made and irreplaceable, was destroyed by the Ursa Minor. Her reputation is in shambles, her career ruined. Things keep getting worse and worse for the mare, don’t they? She’s got a healthy respect for Twilight Sparkle now and has been without a job for over a year. Her record since the Alicorn Amulet incident is spotless. She submitted her resume to over a thousand places of business and been rejected by all of them – which is incredible in its own right. She’s living with an old friend, but that friend can’t afford to house her for free anymore, so if Trixie doesn’t pay her rent by tomorrow she’s going to be on the streets.”

The folder closed with a loud slap that made Fleur wince. “You read that and decided she was worth throwing away?”

Fleur couldn’t meet his eye. So maybe she’d not read everything…

“So what is it about any of this that tells you she’s a villain who needs to be locked up? ‘Cause that must be what you saw.”

“I…” Fleur fought for some kind of defense, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Let me tell you what I see.” He patted the file against the bars. “I see a mare who is down in the dumps. I see that Trixie made a lot of poor decisions, but is working hard to make up for them. I see a pony who is struggling to repair her life against all odds and failing because nopony’s willing to give her a chance.”

He replaced the file in his vest with a scowl. “And you were going to punish her even further.”

Fleur gazed up at him, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Fine. I was so eager to get the Ring… I just wanted to impress you.”

“Impress me?” He rolled his eyes. “You impressed me on the day I met you. You impressed me on countless missions over the past ten years. You don’t need to impress me with actions anymore; you need to impress me with intentions, and yours are anything but impressive. All you had to do was offer to take the damn anklet off her hooves for a fair price; instead you conjured up this massive scheme over several months that resulted in her accidentally assaulting an innocent bystander.”

Fleur threw up her hooves. “You come up with convoluted plans all the time. It’s your MO, for Luna’s sake! You’ve manipulated the innocent plenty of times, I’ve seen you do it. I was just trying to take a page from your book to show I was learning.”

Fine sat and rubbed his forehead with both hooves, a groan rising up from his throat. “I only involve innocents when I’m reasonably certain no harm will come to them! I don’t implicate them in crimes against their will. Your mission did not call for a complex scheme. You want to learn? Learn when to be direct.”

She bowed her head once more. She wished she would stop feeling so ashamed of herself…

“I… I guess I’m not as good as I thought I was.” She gave him her most imploring gaze. “I’m sorry, Fine. I was caught in the heat of the moment. I admit it, I didn’t even consider Trixie’s situation. Maybe… maybe I have been living amongst the Canterlot elite for too long. Maybe their superior attitudes have started to rub off on me.”

“It goes beyond that,” he told her. He pointed a hoof towards the window. “I don’t have to ask, but surely you remember when Fancy saved you from the flames all those years ago?”

She shivered at the memory; she could almost feel the heat against her coat. “Of course I remember.”

Fine’s voice grew hard once more. “If he’d looked upon you in the same way you looked upon Trixie yesterday, he would have left you to burn.”

A small gasp escaped her lips. She gaped at Fine; suddenly his meaning was painfully clear. She could still remember the screams, and the nightmares where they came from her lips. She turned away from him, trembling as she closed her eyes tight against the memory.

“You didn’t just ignore the purpose of the Archons, Fleur,” Fine pressed mercilessly. “You betrayed the philosophies of the very pony you revere as a role model.”

Fleur could see Fancy’s face in her mind’s eye, the sorrow and disappointment.

That face hurt worse than any flame.

“I’m sorry.” She turned to Fine, tears in her eyes and heart in her throat. “I’m so sorry. I’ll fix it so that it never happens again. Please, Fine… let me fix it.”

“Fix it?” He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “How?”

She hesitated, her mind churning over possibilities. What could she possibly offer? Her eyes roamed the cell for inspiration… and landed on the bowls lying haphazardly where they’d fallen.

A small smile reached her lips.

“We really need to adjust what that file says about her magical prowess,” she whispered. She stood and walked to the bars, leveling Fine with a solid smile. “The file says Trixie has no formal education. That must include magic. Fine, Trixie holds incredible power in this little horn. If she can learn to use it, she’d never have to worry about finding a job. I could turn her life around and – if she really has turned a new leaf – then the whole of Equestria might be better for it.”

She held the bars and leaned close so their muzzles were almost touching. “That’s how I’ll fix it: I’ll give her the tools she needs to not only survive, but thrive.”

Fine considered this with a thoughtful, ominous frown. His eyes remained locked with hers and his hoof rubbed his chin.

Fleur said nothing. She would let her conviction be known in her determined expression and focus. He would surely see that she was devoted to this new goal. She’d screwed up, and until she’d righted her wrong she didn’t think she’d ever be able to face Fancy again. That thought alone was enough grant her the drive she would need.

At last Fine stepped back. “It’ll do.”

His horn flashed and there was a loud clang; the cell door rolled open.

Fleur heaved a deep sigh and stepped out. “Thank you, Fine. From the bottom of my heart.”

“Don’t thank me just yet.” He poked her painfully in the chest. “You buck up like this one more time and I’m demoting you to Field Commander. If you’re really going to improve, you need to show it to me through your actions. You really are my favorite agent, Fleur, and that’s the only thing that saved your rump this time around. Do not test me again.”

“I won’t, I promise.” She gave a small bow in appreciation. “I’ll be a lot more respectful of the civilians from here on in, especially those like Trixie.”

“See that you do.” Fine’s serious manner faded almost instantly, traded for a charming smile as he turned for the doors and beckoned her to follow. “Now come on, we’ve got to get you out of that body.”

“Oh…” She glanced at the window, noting the angle of the sunlight. Her ears drooped. “I’m not sure we can get to Ponyville in time.”

“If we were using the trains, you’d be right, but I’ve arranged a special mode of transportation. Speaking of which—” He paused to lean in close and whisper with a wry smile, “—I didn’t tell Luna we’re borrowing her chariots. Do keep quiet; the fewer ponies who know, the less likely I’ll have to explain things to my boss.”

Fleur blinked, worry suddenly rising within her. “You’re stealing Princess Luna’s chariots? What if she needs them?”

“Borrowing,” he corrected. “Don’t worry, we’ll have them back in no time. …probably.”

She could only hope he was right. Fleur was certainly afraid of her boss’s anger, but Fine’s boss was capable of producing nightmares.

Literally.

Author's Note:

I drop a lot of material regarding the stories linked to this one in the conversations with Fancy Pants, particularly The Challenge of Fleur. Just trying to make some pertinent connections for plot continuity's sake. I also alluded a lot to my plans for the story Reddux the Tyrant in referencing Fleur's, Fancy's and Fine's past together. This is me doing a little advertising, as Reddux the Tyrant is one of the stories I intend to start on very soon.

Applejack's situation was one of the most fun to write about, at least at this point in the story. The poor girl doesn't get enough attention, including from me, and I feel rather guilty about that. I always saw her as one of the least flawed of the Mane 6, and knocking her down a moral peg was a big goal here. My major interest for her part of the story was to see if I could not only realistically have her go bad for a little while, but also have her somewhat realistically recover from that. Her inherent goodness – even in comparison to the rest of the Mane 6 – made this a serious challenge I was happy to tackle.

Fine Crime was an issue for this story. I had to find a way to make him constantly present even when he wasn't physically there, otherwise his abrupt appearance in this chapter would be exactly that: abrupt. More importantly, I had to introduce my new readers to him without making it awkward. Fine is my most recurring OC, especially for the Fleur series, but I of course needed to act like I was introducing him for the first time for those readers who had never found him. It seems I'm having to manage this balancing act with every story I write featuring him. I'm never really sure if I've pulled it off.

Comments

[RTStephens]

I liked all the different encounters each character had, particularly Applejack and Trixie's. It gives me warm and fuzzy feelings to see a little friendship crawl into their hearts.

Once again, Fine Crime tends to steal the show. Fleur's lucky this isn't the Trixie Vs Equestria universe...

Heh, cute interactions with Golden here. She's doing surprisingly well for being in a complete 180 to what she normally has to live through.

I go!

[PaulAsaran]

4621898
I feel the Trixie/Applejack interaction is one of the better parts of this whole story, if only because they're a pair that don't interact much at all. I mean really, how many stories out there feature these two in the same scene together, much less talking?

I suppose Fine does have a tendency to steal the thunder from others. Wait 'till you see how he does so in Chapter 4.

Regarding Golden... there's a reason she can handle herself fairly well in these situations. It's a subtle nod that, when taken in context, can have some interesting implications.

[PresentPerfect]

Likewise, Fine Crime didn't leave much an impression on me in Challenge, but here I find I'm liking him. Initially, I said I was going to be pissed if it turned out he'd set Fleur up, but the moment that was revealed, I instantly realized the misjudgment I'd made of both of them. Meanwhile, seeing everyone learning about themselves as well as each other -- Trixie bonding with the Apple Family? Adorable -- is keeping this a really engrossing read. :D

[Revan]

Fine Crime For The Win!

[BirdsBooksBrownies]

Trixie was my favorite part of this story hooves down.

I'm still somewhat cross with AJ, but I will give her credit for prying her head from out of her rump.

I was glad to see Fleur taken down a peg or ten.

Golden has perseverance and is something of a "diamond in the rough". I wish her and Rarity well for the future.