Seasons

by I_Regret_Nothing

Chapter One.

Author's Note:

This is my first fanfic I've published in about a decade so please be patient with me! As I said in the story bio, this is a low-stakes slice of life Rarijack shipfic. I hope that you enjoy it.

1004 A.D., Summer

Her jaunt had taken most of the morning, but the ivory-coated mare grinned in triumph as the farm’s sign drew near. Absentmindedly adjusting her mane with a flick of her neck, Rarity tried to ignore the cloying dust and dirt that clung to her hooves. The old sign declaring Sweet Apple Acres’ name to visitors gently swung in a breeze that Rarity Belle knew would make her violet mane look divine.

It could use a touch of paint, she thought idly, but those vines climbing the archway are attractive. Some plants could really freshen up the boutique in time for my spring line release.

Rarity sighed and shook her head a little more deliberately than before. She wasn’t here to admire the rustic beauty of pastoral life, pleasant as it may be.

No, Rarity grumbled to herself, this is hardly a visit for pleasure. She continued on her way through the welcoming arch, carefully stepped around the chicken coop and the filthy, clucking hens, and trudged past the tall barn that crowned Sweet Apple Acres’ home front. This visit is purely for business.

---

The day had begun as normally as any other. Rarity’s parents were enjoying their retirement and had taken off on another airship cruise out of Baltimare, leaving Sweetie Belle in her older sister’s care. The little filly had been helping Rarity crack eggs for breakfast when her still-developing grasp of magic caused an egg to burst too soon, scattering shell fragments and messy yolks onto the kitchen counter and into their omelets-to-be.

By itself, that was just an annoyance. Accidents happen, and for Sweetie this was one of her less-destructive cooking mishaps. How the young unicorn reacted to it went far beyond her usually-impish tendencies.

“Horseapples,” Sweetie Belle swore explosively, her angelic face contorted into a grimace, “I broke the consarned egg!”

Of course Rarity was taken aback. Her immediate response had been to contain and clean the mess, then reprimand her little sister for her foul language. Of course it could not have been so simple.

Sweetie had retreated to Rarity’s charming kitchen table, but she was still flustered. “I’m just so peeved! Land sakes, how am I going to get stronger if I can’t crack an egg?” Face buried behind her hooves, Sweetie had no warning for what her sister was about to do.

“Darling, look at me.” Sweetie opened one eye to survey the disaster and immediately shut it. “Sweetie Belle,” Rarity continued, “I’m not upset with you, but we need to talk.”

That got her younger sister’s attention. She huffed, lifted her head, and opened her mouth to speak when Rarity levitated a bright pink bar of soap in front of her. Sweetie squeaked in alarm and tried to back away, but found her back against a wall.

Rarity glared down at the frightened filly, trying to ignore the irony of Sweetie’s coat matching the color of the broken eggshells. She willed the bar of soap a little closer to her sister’s mouth.

“Cleaning up your messes in the kitchen is work enough, Sweetie,” she said sternly, “but nopony should have to tolerate that kind of language in her own home.” The soap inched nearer. “Where did you learn such horrid words?”

Sweetie cringed and sunk closer to the floor, eyes darting left and right in hope of an exit. None presented themselves. She opened her mouth to apologize but Rarity cut her off.

“I should clean your mouth out with this soap for that outburst,” but then Rarity’s voice turned pensive. “Or maybe keep you in your room until mother and father return from Baltimare. I am quite sure they would prefer to discipline you.” Her eyes narrowed at the threat, but Sweetie was still resilient. Time to try a different tactic.

“Your little friend Scootaloo told you those words, didn’t she? I imagine Rainbow Dash, brash as she is, has filled her protege’s head with all sorts of dreadful oaths.”

“No, it wasn’t Scoots! Honest! I mean, she knows bad words, but we didn’t learn them from Rainbow.” The filly eyed the still-looming bar of soap warily, then sighed in defeat. “Apple Bloom told me, and I told Scoots,” she grumbled. Sweetie’s ears perked up at the admission and she rushed to continue: “But please don’t tell anypony! If her family finds out she’s been telling swears, her tan is hide!”

“I believe the countryponies threaten to ‘tan your hide’, darling,” Rarity mused.

“Whatever! If Apple Bloom gets in trouble we can’t go crusading, and then none of us can get our cutie marks!”

Rarity sniffed in derision and turned away from her little sister. “You should have considered that before using such base and crass language. I will be leaving to speak with Big McIntosh. As I recall, he handles discipline at Sweet Apple Acres.”

Sweetie looked like she was about to cry. Rarity’s glare softened, but she knew she could not let up just yet. “As for you, you will wait in the guest room until I return and think about what you have done.”

A look of relief washed over Sweetie’s face as the threat of her own demise receded, but concern for her friend quickly replaced it. “I don’t want to even think about what they’ll do to Apple Bloom. She’s gonna hate me.” Sweetie’s head fell behind her hooves again and into the kitchen table.

Rarity kept up a steely exterior despite the voices in her head screaming to console the worried filly. She exhaled deeply to maintain her calming - but resolute - facade, then levitated the now-cooled (and eggshell-free) plated omelets onto the table.

“Darling, Sweetie, right now all you need to worry about is eating this breakfast you helped me make.” Sweetie looked up again but didn’t smile. She knew this wasn’t over. Rarity nodded in approval and added, “clear the table and wash the dishes when you are done. After that, you are to remain in your room until I return.”

The prospect of washing dishes had no appeal to Sweetie, but it was better than chewing soap. Still, she had to ask. “I don’t have to have my mouth washed out?”

It was Rarity’s turn to withhold a smile. “Consider that discussion atop our agenda once I am back. We are not finished here.” Sweetie winced, but knew that was the most she could expect out of her big sister.

Rarity made short work of her own omelet and headed for the door, leaving the plate and tableware for Sweetie to attend to as part of her punishment. The young unicorn made no grunt or groan in protest, which pleased her older sister. Stepping outside, Rarity turned onto the long trot towards Sweet Apple Acres with a huff.

It was time to - how did Applejack put it? - nip this in the bud.

---

It took some time, but Rarity finally found one of the eponymous Apples of Sweet Apple Acres. A strong-limbed earth pony, orange fur slick with sweat, cursed and swore at the end of a harness and chain. At the other end was a tree stump wider than a wagon-wheel.

Rarity had heard her friend fighting the stump from back at the farmhouse, so took it upon herself to collect two glasses of crushed ice and a pitcher of lemonade from the icebox in the kitchen. Carrying the refreshments with a few handy dishcloths, Rarity returned to the field. She waited patiently for Applejack to finish pulling the dead stump from the ground, roots and all.

It happened sooner than she expected. One moment, Applejack was straining against an immovable force, hooves digging into the ground and her breathing haggard with effort. A heartbeat later and the stump was ripped from its place in the field, traced a graceful arc through the air, and fell crashing to the earth.

Rarity was impressed with the display of strength in spite of herself. Feats like this were hardly polite and proper, but it’s not every day you would get to see something like a great tree stump catapulted into the sky by force of muscle alone.

Applejack had been fighting that stump all morning. Big Mac had accompanied Granny Smith to market at the break of dawn, and Apple Bloom had taken off for the Crusaders’ clubhouse to “make some improvements” and patch a leaky roof. Applejack suspected carpentry was in her younger sister’s destiny, but she wasn’t a betting type.

Still breathing hard from the exertion, she didn’t notice the alabaster seamstress until Rarity was nearly at her shoulder.

“Applejack Apple-Smith”, Rarity gently chided, “what have I told you about working the fields like this on your own?”

Applejack smiled wryly and shrugged, letting the heavy harness slide off of her shoulders. “Was Ah on my own? Ain’t ya been standin’ there watchin’ all this time?”

Rarity huffed. “Supervising, darling.”

“Ain’t so, ya was over there in the shade like a bump on a log.” Applejack lifted her hat and made to run a foreleg across her greasy forehead, but Rarity intercepted with a kerchief held in her magic.

Before Applejack could thank her, Rarity gestured back at where she had been ‘supervising’ from, a low knoll in the orchard that was fortunate to catch the breeze while sitting in the shade of a nearby apple tree. Grateful, Applejack followed her friend and tried to control her descent, but went weak at the knees and collapsed.

Rarity talked as she poured the lemonade. “You work too hard, darling. Big McIntosh couldn’t have helped you pull that,” her eyes tracked the thick chain back to the freed stump, which was still tied off, “debris?”

Applejack shook her head, controlling a derisive snort. “Naw, Big Mac has been at Granny’s beck and call all week.” She paused to sip her lemonade, careful not to gulp it, then continued, “he’s been havin’ mare problems again. Miss Cheerilee stopped by th’other day, askin’ after him and wantin’ another date.” Applejack chucked, “So he’s asked Granny to bake’em an apple crumble, and he owes her one.”

Rarity smiled but said nothing. Applejack knew how she loved gossip, but pushing for too much too quickly could put the cart before the ponies.

Her patience was rewarded; “ o‘course, that’s just one o’the mares,” Applejack said coyly, taking another sip of lemondate, “there’s this little yellah pegasus outside o’town that mah big galoot of a brother fancies. He’s been takin’ apple fritters across town once a week now, an’ Granny’s got herself a whole heap of favors ta call in.”

Now that was news worth knowing. Stoic, broad-shouldered Big McIntosh - Ponyville’s most-eligible bachelor, and heir to the Apple family farm - had embroiled himself in his own love triangle? The tawdry romance novels Rarity borrowed from Twilight’s library couldn’t match it.

Sensing her friend’s interest, Applejack looked at Rarity from the corner of her eye. “This stays between us, sugarcube.”

“Of course, darling,” Rarity purred, flicking her ears idly, “though I find myself anticipating my spa day with Fluttershy next week from an entirely fresh perspective.”

“Just don’t go an' embarrass her,” Applejack replied mildly.

“Perish the thought.”

The pair sat in silence, letting the wind caress their manes and cool Applejack’s sweat-stained flanks. Noticing an irritated red spot not far up the earth pony’s foreleg, Rarity tut-tutted and began cleaning it with a clean kerchief.

“Reckon Ah sprung a leak,” Applejack apologized, grinning sheepishly. Rarity did not respond, focused on tying the protective cloth tightly around it. Part of her admired the dense, luxurious fur that grew protectively over Applejack’s fetlocks, but she would never admit it. She knew models and nobleponies in Canterlot who got extensions to mimic the distinctive tufts characteristic of draft-ponies like the Apple family.

Minutes passed with just the low hum of the wind passing them by. The comfort both ponies felt in each other’s company did not need to be expressed in words.

Applejack was readying to stand and haul the big stump to a burn-pile when Rarity spoke up. “I caught Sweetie Belle swearing today.”

Applejack shifted her weight and stayed put, a bad feeling about this developing. “She pick it up at school?”

“Nope.” Rarity daintily sipped her own lemonade.

“Scootaloo,” Applejack guessed, then quickly added, “from Rainbow Dash.”

“No, and no.”

Applejack plucked a stray strand of tall grass and began chewing it, brow clenched in thought. “Zecora? Celestia knows what kind’a words she’s picked up.”

Rarity scoffed. “Apple Bloom taught her the words.”

Applejack grunted. “Well, they’re fillies. We’ve been foalish ‘fore too, y’know?” She peered at Rarity, who was looking away pointedly. “Ain’t ya?”

Rarity rolled her eyes dismissively back towards the earth pony. “Hardly. I did not get caught. You Apples swear like sailors. Sweetie is being disciplined already, but I wanted you to be aware so you can deal with Apple Bloom as you so choose.”

“Thanks for th’permission,” Applejack drawled, but at a cross look from Rarity replied, “Really, thanks. Ah’ll talk with Big Mac when he gets home an’ figure out somethin’.”

Rarity gave a small, satisfied grin in response. “I trust your judgment.”

"Tried a swear jar? We did, got Big Mac to watch out 'round Bloom when she was little. Ain't worked much for Granny, though." Rarity barked a decisively un-ladylike laugh, but managed to regain her composure.

Another minute passed, and Rarity stood to stretch. Applejack tilted her broad-brimmed hat back and sprawled onto the grass, flexing and stretching her aching joints.

Rarity looked down at her and asked, “May I help move that stump to the,” she paused and thought in recollection, “burn-pile?”

“Naw,” Applejack replied easily, “hard part’s over. Just touch up th’kitchen on your way back t’town.” She chewed the grass held between her teeth. “Two jars o’apple preserves, one jar o’fig preserves in th’back o’the ice box.”

Rarity smiled a little more broadly. “I will be sure to account for them.” She collected the glasses, pitcher, and dirty kerchiefs with her magic.

Applejack came to her feet and rolled her shoulders in preparation for lugging the big stump to a bonfire-in-waiting. “Ya go on an’tend t’yer sister. Y’all comin’ to th’bonfire in three nights?”

“We’ll be there,” Rarity promised, standing just outside her friend’s reach. They stood there quietly for a moment, taking in the view. Manicured clouds dotted a blue sky as bright as Rarity’s eyes. Verdant green summer grass and apple-tree leaves echoed Applejack’s own eyes. The friends hugged briefly with their forelegs, neither sure of which initiated it. Rarity told herself that, between the breeze and breather in the grass, Applejack had shed her sweat and grime. She had to believe it.

They lingered in each other's embrace, then broke off and said their goodbyes. Applejack went back to work into the field, and Rarity trotted up the path to the farmhouse.

The unicorn smiled to herself again, bigger and broader than she had all day. Maybe this visit had some pleasure in it after all.

Comments

[Zaid ValRoa]

Well, I liked it.

The opening felt a bit purpley to me, and you may want to give it a few roudns of editing to smooth out some POV issues, but this was otherwise a quite enjoyable SoL vignette.

I hope you keep going, and we get to see what develops.

[394VikingPinkiePie]

This was so nice to read! It's been a while since I read a good rarijack fic and although this chapter wasn't particularly focused on romance, their friendship felt strong and real. It feels right to see them interact peacefully, without any nonsense arguments over nothing. I really enjoyed how you wrote their conversation, particularly when rarity spoke up about sweetie swearing. You didn't need many words to let rarity's disposition shine through and it was very in character in my opinion, quite funny actually. Overall, nicely done!