• Published 6th Feb 2013
  • 7,194 Views, 247 Comments

And The Stars Shine Forth - archonix



Before her fall, Luna lived entire lifetimes as a mortal pony. She now wishes to do so again, and elects to spend some time with Twilight Sparkle and her friends. She never expected to fall madly in love.

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14. Upon the Mount

Applejack eyed the milky-white sky before turning her attention back to the yard, where the remnants of lunch lay scattered and crumbling beneath two empty tables. The sun was hot and bright, pleasingly so, but any shadows it might have cast were stolen away by a haze that had drifted across the sky some time after the dawn, leaving the whole world to look flat and motionless, and just a little less than real.

She stepped back to the verandah, where Spritzer and Big Mac both stood stoic, in their own different ways, and waited. Beyond them, Granny snoozed in her customary chair.

"Weather's turned," said Spritzer. This earned a short harumph from Big Mac.

"We knew it would," Applejack replied. She plucked a lonesome fritter from the table and bit into it, taking a good half, which she only barely chewed before swallowing. "Though I'd kinda hoped somehow it'd steer clear."

She finished her fritter with another two bites and leaned against the verandah fence.

"How'd the south groves look."

"Bountiful," said Spritzer. "But late. Ain't a thing ready for t'harvest nigh a week or more."

"Nothing?" She looked at Mac, but he just shook his head. "Shoot. And the lower hunnert that way is all shallow roots, too. We'll have to tie and net the whole thing."

"If tha can make the time for it, aye, but Jack–" Spritzer glanced over her shoulder at the sound of Granny easing from her chair, accompanied as it was by a litany of muttered swearing and grunting "–we're already late on t'goldens. We can't spare from that. We'll lose half t'crop."

"Better apples than trees," Granny Smith groused. She wobbled across the verandah to the trio and fixed a steely glare on Applejack. "Those goldens are sturdy critters, ain't no storm can break 'em down, even if they're loaded like old Filthy on his way to the bank!"

"Aye, I s'pose," said Spritzer. She sniffed and rubbed her nose. "Just seems a waste."

"Y'all can go eat your fill after sundown," Granny snapped. "An' spend your lunch tomorrow there too, unless y'all are fixin' to eat the food I poured ma heart and soul into for a change!"

"I eat em nat'ral!"

"Hah! Natural, she says! Ain't nothin' more natural than home-cooked fare!"

"Granny..." Applejack shook her head and turned from Granny Smith's withering gaze. The old mare seemed intent on staring a whole in her head. "Spritzer, you and Mac go find Elstar and Zestar an' do what you can. I'll take a stroll round the southern groves and see what I can't tie down today. We'll swing back to the goldens if we've got time later."

"Aye, Jack," Spritzer said. She nodded at Big Mac. "Come on lad, let's gather up t'flock."

Applejack turned to watch the pair as they ambled away toward the tree line. Then she slowly settled down on her haunches, raised her gaze to the sky and closed her eyes.

The gentle creak of wood told her Granny had finally decided to move her attention elsewhere. Applejack waited a moment, then let out a long sigh. "What I wouldn't give for a few sturdy colts about now," she muttered. "Or even just one more set of hooves."

"Sounds like you're regrettin' lettin' that pretty little thing run off back to Ponyville!"

Applejack cracked her eyes open and peered sideways at Granny, who had settled beside her and was gnawing at the crust of an apple tart. So far, the crust seemed to be winning.

"We could use the help," she admitted, more as a way to tear her attention from the spectacle than anything else. "But I ain't about to make her leave Twilight alone again. I made a promise. Or she did, I guess."

"Promises is made for ponies, not the other way 'round."

"I'd make a liar of one of us if I went back on it," Applejack replied. She tipped her hat back and peered up at the milky sky. "Worst part is, I almost want to do it, but that ain't a thing I want on my conscience."

"Maybe she wants it on your conscience," Granny muttered. "Y'all ever think of that? No, 'course ya din't. Fillies today cain't see a sure thing right in front of their own faces."

"Granny, I don't need convincin' she's a hard worker!"

"I suppose ya don't at that." Granny left off battling with her pie and grinned up at Applejack. "Don't you worry none, little apple, it'll all work out. You'll see."

Applejack bowed her head and then nodded. If her family had a motto, that'd be it. "I just wish it would work out easier is all."

"Ain't easier than a sure thing throwin' itself cross your withers!"

Applejack twitched herself away from the rail, and from Granny, if she had to admit it. "I'd better go rustle up some rope."

Haze hung across the sky well into the evening, long past the time when the stars would peer down on the world. That flat darkness overhead gave the world an enclosed, oppressive character as Applejack, lathered in sweat, slouched east through the humid night toward the elder orchards and their promise of isolation and calm.

They had abandoned the goldens at sundown, with half the orchard still unharvested. Weighted baskets had been left around to catch what the wind would tear free, though what little they could expect to salvage from that would only be good for compost or cider anyhow.

Thinking spot. She slowed a mite at the thought of its name, as if that would could, and looked up at the distant rise, which climbed free of the orchards surrounding it. What could she call it? Why did it even matter?

The stars were visible beyond it, barely. Applejack upped her pace, ignoring the deep ache in her shoulders and the burn of her exhausted legs.

She found herself at a respectable canter when she burst from the boundary of the orchard, but she slowed again as she climbed the shallow slope. A gentle breeze blew from the east, cool and refreshing after the stifling stillness of the orchards, carrying the bitter tang of cool rains and lightning.

Applejack slumped at the brow of the rise, overlooking the valley below and all the marches of her domain. The breeze, whatever its source, seemed to be tearing back the haze as it blew, peeling away the curtain that had hidden the night sky in a single, swift moment, until the whole of it was ablaze from one horizon to the other.

The moon stood east, bright and full, beneath the twin lights of Erato and Pistis. Remembering the names brought a short smile to Applejack's face and she let out a quiet sigh. By her reckoning they'd be three in a line the next night, which she supposed was when Twilight would want to do their astronomy lesson.

Twilight. Applejack rolled onto her side and stretched out her neck to rest, letting her hat flop onto the grass. The girl had been angry, no two ways about it, but angry at her. Why? She rolled onto her back as she pondered the problem, whilst the dry brush soaked away the cloying dampness in her coat.

Erato and Pistis. Honesty and the poet, wasn't that what Sable had said? And then the moon sliding right in between them – it was almost poetry by itself. There was probably a story in that, though it was not, thought Applejack, as if she could come up with it in her current state.

The trees sighed in the breeze; but no, it wasn't the breeze that moved them this time. Applejack flicked her ears about and then rolled onto her belly, listening intently, but she heard little, save for the quiet creak of heaving branches. She looked over her shoulder, back along the path to the farm, just as she heard the soft beat of hooves on the grassy way, and found Sable walking slowly toward the rise, bearing a slim shoulder bag across her withers. The trees nearest to her shook their heavy manes as she passed by; if Applejack hadn't known better, she might have believed they were bowing.

Sable halted at the foot of the little hill and bowed her head to Applejack. Then she turned, circling to her right and the south, until she stood at the edge of a steep slope into the valley and faced the rising moon head on. She stared at it, wide-eyed and silent, then bowed her head briefly to it, before turning to face Applejack again.

"Forgive my intrusion, fair Applejack," she said as she mounted the slope. "I should have expected that you would be here at this hour."

"Darn tootin'," Applejack replied. She waited as Sable settled herself a short distance away. "But you're always welcome here, Sable, you know that."

"For which I am eternal grateful. In truth I had hoped you might be here, but I was content also to spend some small time by myself were you not." Sable bowed her head again and a smile touched her lips for just a moment. "Twilight shall soon come, whence we intend to look upon the toing and froing of our dear friends aloft." She frowned. "That is–"

"I get the picture, princess," said Applejack. She tugged at her hat, thinking to put it on again, but then left it aside. "You want me to mosey along and leave you to it?"

Sable shook her head. "Nay, fair Applejack. There is room enough for the both of us 'pon this mount, and your company is, likewise, welcome."

To that, Applejack could only smile. She looked up again at the stars, noting only a moment later that the tension across her shoulders had almost entirely faded at some point. With ginger movements she stretched her neck left and right, until the quiet clink of thick glass caught her attention.

Sable held up a pair of bottles, before extending one to Applejack.

"Barley water," she said, to Applejack's questioning look. She pushed the bottle forward again until Applejack was compelled to take it, then set her own on the grass by her hooves. "It is no applesnap, but it is quite the restorative."

"Yeah, I guess it is, 'specially after a day like this." Applejack levered back the bottle's cap and snuffed at the rich aroma of honeyed barley that erupted from the drink. "Just like pappy used to make."

She took a deep swig and let out a sigh as the drink tingled deep down into her stomach, bubbling up childhood memories of brewing and bottling all sorts of things that hadn't been apples.

"So what's the deal," she said, "with those two? Y'all seemed set to explain the other night, until– well, yeah."

Sable looked up at the trio, frowning. She set her drink to one side and shuffled a little closer to Applejack's side.

"I told you they are important to pegasus myth, did I not?"

"You mentioned that. Rainbow ain't never said nothin' about em before, though."

"She might well not, for the myth was ancient even a thousand years ago, and the gods by which they are named are more ancient still, from a time deeper than time, if some are to be believed." Sable lowered her eyes and took a long draft from her drink. She shuffled closer to Applejack again, leaving barely more than a hoof's width between them. "Erato is the poet of the lovers, the romantics, and those that seek clarity of thought. She writes truth upon the hearts of ponies, the truth of their feelings each toward the other. Her influence spreads far and wide within pegasus and unicorn cultures."

"So far, so mythical," Applejack replied. She looked up toward the trio of lights. "And that Pistis, what's her deal?"

"Faith. Honesty. Reliability. She is all that is seen as good in a companion." Sable had her eyes closed as she spoke, while her hoof had strayed to her chest. "For the pegasi especially, the meeting of the two was auspicious, though common. Couplings performed on the night of their conjunction were thought to produce noble and steadfast guardians of society."

"Couplings?"

"Pegasi of that era did not marry, but that is not to say that they did not maintain close relationships," said Sable. She smiled a small, distant smile. "They were different times."

"No doubt."

Applejack shuffled against the grass. The cool breeze that had comforted her earlier had turned chill against her coat, and the ground was fast losing what remnants of the sun's warmth it had held up to now. Without really thinking, she moved closer to Sable's side, soaking up what heat she could find there.

"What about the moon in all this?" Applejack swigged the last of her drink and tossed the bottle a short distance, in case it got in the way. Nothing worse than rolling onto a great hunk of glass and wire when you were least expecting it.

"Ah, the moon..." Sable lurched as half a laugh escaped her. She shook her head. "The moon is an outsider, an interloper, who meets with the pair but rarely, and rarely in the same aspect. There is a great divination of her intent in whom she faces, but suffice to say that the moon's presence twixt the pair is a great and powerful omen. Dynasties have risen and fallen on the timing of her journey to meet these two. The day of her departure, likewise, was held momentous, and was marked by great feasts, or by great mourning."

Applejack frowned up at the stars, then at Sable. For a moment she thought she saw the twinkling of a tear at the corner of Sable's eye, but it disappeared before she could be sure.

"Sounds a mite fanciful to me," she said. "Makes for one heck of a tale, though."

"A tale?" Sable's brow lowered, though she kept her gaze fixed on the sky.

"Sure! Ain't no more than a gussied up story for foals, just it's writ in an old language and told with fancy words." Applejack bopped a hoof against Sable's shoulder. "Y'all tell it well enough, even if it's a mite bare. Kinda sad though, when you think about it."

Sable's ears twisted toward Applejack. "Pray, explain."

"Just those two spend longer'n my lifetime wandering out across the sky, you see?" Applejack waved her hoof across the sky as she spoke. "Far as any pony would know, they'd always been on their own, so they wouldn't know any different from lonely or not. Then one day this new girl brings them together, and now they've got friends. Family, even. That'd be a whole new world for them. Then they gotta split up again."

"And you believe that their parting would then impart a sense of loss and loneliness upon them, now that they had tasted a companionship that was previously unknown?"

Applejack nodded once. "That's about the length of it."

Sable was staring at Applejack, but her attention seemed elsewhere. She tipped her head a fraction, as if listening to some distance voice, and when she spoke again it was as if she had not spoken for a great many years. "It is the nature of all ponies to meet and then part again. In time the sense of loss will fade, but surely they must treasure the times they spent together?"

Applejack raised her hoof, then lowered it gently to the grass.She could feel her own ears turning back; she forced tem forward and took a sharp breath. "I guess I don't rightly know," she said. "But it ain't something I could enjoy, bein' alone, after meetin' someone special enough to change the way I looked at my whole life."

"Indeed not," said Sable. She was smiling again, but it was a faint smile, and weak, that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"If I had a choice–" Applejack tumped her hooves against the hollow soil. She could feel her jaw clenching, and forced it wide before it could start to hurt. "If I'd found somepony that important and then had to see them taken away agin, I don't rightly know if I'd be able to let it happen. It'd be like tearing out a part of my own heart and then expectin' not to bleed."

Silence fell. Somehow, Applejack had expected a clever jibe from Sable, or some little pearl of innocent wisdom that would have lightened the mood. She seemed to be that sort of mare, always ready with something smart and soothing. Instead she was staring at the ground between her hooves, unmoving and silent.

Sable shifted; her shoulder brushed against Applejack's for a moment as she shuffled to settle herself. Then her side pressed against Applejack as she took a deep breath.

"It is natural to wish to hold on to something so meaningful for as long as you can," she said, "when another touches your heart so deeply. Still, pain is but temporary, and in truth, all things must end, as surely as they must begin."

With that, Sable rolled away, leaving a cold space at Applejack's side when she had just gotten used to the warmth. Sable set her empty bottle down and closed it firm, whilst her magic retrieved the other and slid it back into her pack. "Listen to me ramble," she muttered. "I impose upon you so."

"I ain't complainin'," said Applejack, who found herself wishing for a little more imposition now that the air had chilled so completely. The cold, humid air felt clammy against her skin. Storm weather, she guessed. But that would mean–

The rattle and squeak of cart wheels silenced Applejack's thought before it could finish forming. She sat up, looking back over her shoulder toward the orchard, where she spotted the shadowy silhouette of Twilight, hauling a laden truck toward the rise. There were far fewer instruments this time, she noted, but they seemed more focused than the last visit.

Even despite the smaller load, Twilight was huffing up a storm as she mounted the hill.

Sable leaped to her hooves, twisting in the air to wave. "Haloo friend Twilight," she called, as magic rose to her horn and enveloped the truck, contents and all. She lifted it away from Twilight's back and thrust it upon the crest of the hill with a quiet crump and the squeal of overworked springs.

"Oh, goodness, thank you Sable," Twilight panted as she made the final few paces to their side. She fell in a heap at Applejack's hooves and let out a long sigh. "That was a lot steeper than I remember."

"T'is Spike's novel means to break our fast that added to your burden!" Sable poked at Twilight's belly and giggled at the sour look she received in return. "I apologise for leaving you to bear it alone, Twilight, but I promise I shall carry my fair share on our return."

Twilight raised her head to peer at Sable. "Downhill."

"It presents its own difficulties," Sable replied. She pouted until Twilight stuck out her tongue and rolled away to her side.

Applejack shuffled her hooves, then reached for her hat. "S'pose that's my sign to mosey along," she said, before flopping the old thing on her head. She touched the brim and nodded to the pair. "Good night to you both."

She turned, but then paused as a hoof touched her side. When she looked back she found Twilight watching her with an odd, distant expression. "Twi?"

"You can stay if you like," Twilight said. "I–I mean, it's your hill! We can't make you leave, and maybe you'd enjoy– enjoy it."

"Well that's mighty generous of you, Twilight, but I'm beat. I was about to turn in anyhow." She patted Twilight's hoof and smiled at her. "You two girls enjoy your stargazin'."

She waited until Twilight had dropped her hoof, then set off down the hill, but she'd only made it a few paces before she heard the trop of hooves on the grass. Twilight hove around her, almost but not quite blocking Applejack's path. They stood that way a moment, Applejack not quite shivering in the breeze, Twilight alternately raising and lowering her left hoof without purpose.

"I'm sorry, Applejack," she said, finally, lowering her gaze. "You– I was jealous over Sable's friendship with you. I shouldn't have treated you the way I did before."

"Twilight, I ain't mad. You–"

"Am. Was." Twilight shook her head. She looked at Applejack with wide eyes and a small, nervous smile. "Friends?"

Applejack laughed and reached out to haul Twilight into a hug. "Always, Twi," she said. Twilight melted into her embrace with a sigh that was almost a sob, but then just as quickly drew herself away again.

"Thank you, Applejack," she murmured. She took a step back. "Are you sure you won't stay? We've got a big night planned."

"And a veritable midnight feast," Sable added, raising an over-filled picnic basket above her head.

Applejack found herself grinning along at the thought, but she shook her head even so.

"Like I said, I gotta turn in. There's a heap of work to do tomorrow." She tipped her hat to Twilight and smiled, then nodded to Sable. "Goodnight to the both of you."

She waited a moment for Twilight to return to Sable, who had already begun unpacking the complex tangle of instruments and equipment that Twilight had hauled up to the hill. With a final wave, Applejack turned to trot down the hill.

At the foot, by the tree line, she paused to look over her shoulder at the pair. Twilight was already immersed in her work, one eye pressed against the eyepiece of a squat telescope, while what looked to be a whole ream of paper flittered and spun about her. At her side, Sable was staring up at the stars, yet as soon as Applejack looked at her, she turned her gaze to meet Applejack's own, and for just that moment, she seemed ready to leap from the hill, to chase Applejack into the deep woods. Instead she raised her hoof and bowed her head to Applejack, before turning her attention back to the papery tornado by her side.

For a moment, Applejack found herself drawn to the glittering horizon beyond the pair, to the beauty she'd always known was held within it, but that now shone all the brighter. Closing her eyes, she turned and stumbled beneath the shade of the orchards, and on to the long, silent path back to her home.

Author's Note:

Written with my eyes closed.