Chapter 21 - The Promise.
The sky was shifting into shades of orange and gold, the scent of apples rich in the warm evening breeze. It wrapped around Amelia like a familiar embrace, rustling through her blue-and-white mane.
We bleed blue.
That was the mantra. A phrase worn like a badge of honour by Evertonians—by Toffees, as they proudly called themselves. Amelia had grown up with those words, had lived them, breathed them, even in the darkest seasons. Back on Earth, Everton had been below-average, a club desperately fighting relegation, scraping by against the likes of Nottingham Forest, Luton Town, and Wolves. It had been painful to watch, embarrassing even, especially with Liverpool soaring high, their history and legacy staining the city red.
And yet, despite everything, Everton fans never wavered. They were a club of tradition, of grit, of fight. Their history, though overshadowed by their red neighbours, was nothing to scoff at. They had pride—stubborn pride. And for Amelia, there was no shame in being a Toffee. She loved being a Toffee.
Just like Redsica.
Her brother—sister now—had been the same way. The same unshakable spirit, the same unwavering devotion to his—no, her—club. Redsica had been red through and through, a Liverpool fan down to her bones. No matter how much Amelia teased her for it, no matter how fiercely they clashed over Merseyside derbies, Redsica never budged.
She had bled red just as fiercely as Amelia bled blue.
And now, as Amelia sat on a hill in Sweet Apple Acres, staring at the city of Canterlot in the distance, she couldn’t help but see the reflection of home.
Canterlot. Towering, prestigious, powerful. The Liverpool of this world. Its clubs had the best players, the best facilities, the best opportunities. Ponyville, by contrast, was the underdog. Humble, often overlooked, scrapping for respect.
Just like Everton.
Amelia exhaled, gripping a handful of grass between her fingers. Earth and Equis weren’t so different, were they?
It was almost funny—like Earth had whispered to Equis, “Copy my homework, but make it look different.”
She might not be on Earth anymore, but some things never changed. The fight, the passion, the rivalry. Pride.
And just like Redsica refused to let her red fade, Amelia wasn’t about to let go of her blue.
She still bled it.
And she always would.
Almost absentmindedly, she began humming a tune—one older than herself, yet etched into her memory like it had always been there.
Her father used to sing it. Every derby day, without fail. Whether Everton won or lost, whether the sky was blue or stormy, that song always rang through their home, through the pubs, through the stands.
A voice beside her pulled her from her thoughts.
“What’s that you’re hummin’?”
Amelia blinked, turning her head. She had completely forgotten Apple Bloom was there, lying on her back with her hands folded behind her head, staring up at the fading sky.
Amelia hesitated. “Oh. Uh, just a hoofball song. My dad used to sing it.”
Apple Bloom propped herself up on her elbows, intrigued. “A hoofball song, huh? Never heard it before. Go on, sing it.”
Amelia immediately tensed. “What? No way.”
“C’mon.” Apple Bloom urged, grinning. “Ain’t like I’m askin’ ya to perform in front of a crowd. Just me. Ain’t got nothin’ to be shy about.”
Amelia frowned, glancing away. It was just Apple Bloom, but still, singing out loud felt embarrassing, especially a song as bold as this one. But Apple Bloom wasn’t letting up.
“Oh, come on now.” Apple Bloom teased, nudging Amelia’s arm. “What’s the worst that could happen? Ain’t like ya got a bad voice or nothin’.”
Amelia groaned, rubbing her face before finally giving in. “Alright, alright, fine. Just don’t laugh.”
Apple Bloom held up her hands. “Promise.”
With a deep breath, Amelia let the words come naturally, as if she had sung them a thousand times before—because, in a way, she had.
“It’s a grand old team to play for,
It’s a grand old team to support!
And if you know your history,
It’s enough to make your heart go—”
She pounded her chest twice.
“Whoa-oh-oh!
We don’t care what the Redshite say,
What the hell do we care?
For we only know that there’s gonna be a show
When the Toffees are there!”
Her voice trailed off as she finished, and she suddenly felt hyper-aware of how much she had let herself get into it. Her cheeks warmed slightly as she glanced at Apple Bloom, expecting some teasing or maybe a laugh.
But Apple Bloom just tilted her head, a bemused smirk on her face. “Huh. Ain’t never heard that one before.”
Amelia quickly shrugged, trying to keep her expression neutral. “Yeah, uh, it’s… my dad’s song.”
Apple Bloom didn’t seem to question it. Instead, she tapped her chin, thinking. “You know… that might be a good chant for our fans. A real shameless one to throw at the Reds.”
Amelia blinked, then let out a short laugh. “You reckon?”
“Darn right I do. It’s simple, got a good rhythm, and, let’s be real, everypony loves a good dig at their rivals.”
Amelia smirked. “Yeah… yeah, that’d actually be pretty good.”
They fell into a comfortable silence after that, letting the evening settle around them, the distant sounds of Ponyville drifting through the orchard. Amelia stretched out her legs, leaning back on her elbows, and Apple Bloom returned to lying on her back, arms folded behind her head once more.
No words were needed now. Just the quiet companionship of two ponies sharing a moment, the orchard around them calm and still, as if the world had slowed just for them.
The warmth of the evening breeze carried the scent of apples through the orchard, mingling with the quiet rustling of the leaves.
Apple Bloom shifted slightly, leaning against Amelia’s shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed as she let out a soft hum. Amelia didn’t move, letting the weight settle against her, offering silent comfort in the stillness.
After a few moments, Apple Bloom spoke, her voice quieter than usual. “Ya know… I don’t really have any friends.”
Amelia blinked, tilting her head slightly to glance at her. “What do you mean? You’ve got ponies, right?”
Apple Bloom let out a small sigh, her cheek pressing against Amelia’s shoulder. “I had friends. Once. But we all went our separate ways. One of ‘em became a big-time singer, travelin’ the world now, playin’ shows in all sorts of places. Another? She’s playin’ at an academy far away, trainin’ for somethin’ big. And the other…” Apple Bloom hesitated, then shook her head. “Just… didn’t work out.”
Amelia frowned. “What about the Toffees? The team? They’re your friends, right?”
Apple Bloom shook her head again, the motion faint against Amelia’s shoulder. “I don’t feel a connection with ‘em. They don’t treat me like a friend. I feel like I’m just… staff. Just the fitness coach. They respect me, sure, but I don’t think any of ‘em actually see me. Ain’t their fault, I guess. I’m still just a filly. Vinyl, Octavia, Thunderlane—they’re all in their mid-twenties. Ponies like them don’t wanna hang around some sixteen-year-old.”
The admission made Amelia’s chest tighten.
“What about Scootaloo?” she asked. “You two are around the same age.”
Another shake of the head. “Scootaloo don’t care about makin’ friends.” Apple Bloom muttered. “She just wants to play hoofball. That’s it. And if I’m bein’ honest…” She hesitated, then exhaled through her nose. “I think she’s just usin’ the club as a steppin’ stone. She’s waitin’ for a big club to come in with an offer. And when that happens? She’ll be gone. I’d bet on it. If The Reds, Mare City, or even The Hammers come knockin’? She’ll pack her bags and leave.” Apple Bloom’s voice grew softer, as if she was only just admitting it to herself. “It’s only a matter of time.”
Amelia frowned. That… hurt to hear.
Without a word, she wrapped an arm around Apple Bloom and, instinctively, her wing followed, curling over the younger filly’s frame. Amelia pressed her head lightly against Apple Bloom’s, letting her warmth seep into the quiet.
She knew how this felt.
She’d been blessed with friends all her life. But there was one night—one—where she had never felt more alone.
The first night she was summoned into Equestria.
Walking through the dark, the trees looming overhead, the bushes scratching at her legs. Wet, cold, hurt. Banging on the doors of Fluttershy’s cottage to no reply. The silence stretching, the stars above offering no comfort.
That night was one of the worst she had ever had.
Maybe that’s how Apple Bloom was feeling now.
Alone.
Amelia tightened her hold slightly, pressing her forehead gently against Apple Bloom’s. And in a whisper, she murmured, “You’re not alone anymore. I’m here.”
Apple Bloom didn’t respond right away. But after a moment, her shoulders eased, and she let herself rest fully against Amelia.
Apple Bloom shifted against Amelia’s side, her hands gripping the fabric of her hoodie lightly. There was a pause, just the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze, the distant chirping of crickets. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, Apple Bloom spoke.
“Promise me you ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
Amelia blinked, glancing down at her. “Huh?”
Apple Bloom tightened her grip slightly, as if afraid Amelia might disappear if she didn’t hold on. “Not to another club. Not yet. I know ya probably wanna play for some big team one day, but… just not yet. Not now.”
There was something raw in the way she said it, something small beneath all her usual confidence. It caught Amelia off guard.
For a moment, Amelia just stared down at her, watching the way Apple Bloom avoided her gaze, like she was afraid of the answer.
Then, Amelia exhaled softly and nodded.
“I promise.” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Apple Bloom finally looked up at her, and in the dim evening light, Amelia could see the hope in her amber eyes. She was blushing, just a little, her freckles standing out more than usual. It was almost adorable—if Amelia wasn’t so caught up in the weight of the moment.
Then, without warning, Apple Bloom lunged forward and squeezed her.
“Tartarus, Apple Bloom—!” Amelia wheezed as the smaller but shockingly strong earth pony nearly crushed the air out of her lungs.
Apple Bloom beamed, oblivious to the fact that she was slowly squeezing the life out of her friend. “Good!”
Amelia, meanwhile, was flailing slightly, her wing twitching in protest. “Bloom—seriously—can’t breathe—”
“Oh, whoops.” Apple Bloom finally let go, grinning sheepishly. “Forgot my own strength.”
Amelia sucked in a sharp breath, rubbing her ribs. “No kidding.” she muttered, shooting her a half-hearted glare before shaking her head with a smirk. “Damn, Bloom, you trying to make sure I can’t go anywhere?”
Apple Bloom smirked, winking. “Maybe.”
The emotional weight of the moment had shifted, replaced by something lighter, something easier. Amelia rolled her eyes but smiled, leaning back against the tree again.
Apple Bloom settled beside her once more, arms folded, looking satisfied. “Still. I meant what I said. I’m glad you’re here.”
Amelia let her eyes drift up to the orange sky, the warmth of Apple Bloom’s presence beside her strangely comforting, more than usual.
“Yeah.” she murmured. “Me too.”
It was nice.
It’s nice to have a girl as a friend.
She hadn’t really thought about it before, but now that she did, it hit her how rare this was for her.
Back on Earth, all her friends had been boys. That was just how it worked out. She wasn’t like other girls—not in the way most people expected. She never dressed up in a princess costume, never played with dolls, never giggled about makeup or fashion. While the other girls in school sat in tight-knit circles talking about crushes and celebrities, she was outside, playing football with the lads.
Football and video games. That was her thing. Always had been.
She fit in better with the boys because they got it. They didn’t care if her knees were scraped from a rough match, or if she spent hours arguing about formations and tactics. They didn’t look at her funny when she’d rather talk about the weekend’s fixtures than some teen drama show.
But it also meant she never really had a girl friend.
Apple Bloom was tough, but kind. Mature, but still fun. She didn’t treat Amelia like she was weird for being into hoofball—if anything, she respected it.
And for once, Amelia didn’t feel like she had to prove anything.
This is nice.
Amelia let out a long, deep sigh, stretching her arms high above her head, her wings fluffing slightly as she arched her back. A satisfied hum escaped her lips as she stood abruptly, shaking off the cool evening air that had settled over her.
“Welp.” she said, rolling her shoulders, “I dunno about you, but I say we head back before it gets too cold. No way I’m sitting out here and freezing my tail off.”
She turned, holding out a hand toward Apple Bloom, her palm open and waiting.
Apple Bloom blinked up at her, then smiled softly, nodding. She placed her smaller, slightly calloused hand in Amelia’s, and with a gentle tug, Amelia pulled her up effortlessly.
Apple Bloom stumbled slightly as she got to her feet, and for a second, their hands lingered together. Amelia didn’t let go immediately, steadying Apple Bloom with a firm but easy grip.
“Gotcha.” Amelia murmured with a smirk.
Apple Bloom rolled her eyes but smiled, squeezing Amelia’s hand just a little before finally letting go. “I ain’t that clumsy, ya know.”
“Uh-huh.” Amelia chuckled, nudging her shoulder as they began walking back toward the farmhouse, side by side.
The evening air was crisp, the orchard around them bathed in warm twilight, fireflies beginning to blink lazily among the trees. It was quiet, peaceful. And despite the chill creeping in, there was a warmth between them, a silent understanding, as they made their way home.
The moment Amelia and Apple Bloom burst through the front door, they slammed it shut behind them with a loud thud, their breathless giggles filling the cozy farmhouse.
Water dripped from their clothes, pooling onto the wooden floor beneath them. Amelia’s two-toned mane clung to her face, her hoodie completely soaked through, while Apple Bloom shook her head like a dog, flicking droplets everywhere. Neither of them cared—they were still caught in the giddy excitement of the unexpected downpour, their laughter echoing between them.
But then—silence.
That’s when they noticed the three pairs of eyes staring at them.
Applejack, Big Mac, and Derpy were sitting comfortably in the living room, each holding a drink, watching the two soaked ponies with bemused expressions.
Applejack sat with a jug of apple cider in one hand, a small smirk tugging at her lips. Big Mac, ever the silent observer, sipped his apple juice, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing. Meanwhile, Derpy held a bottle of apple-flavored water, blinking owlishly at them like they had just crashed in from another dimension.
For a moment, Amelia and Apple Bloom just stood there, water dripping onto the floor in an awkward plink, plink, plink.
Applejack was the first to break. She let out a quiet chuckle, setting her jug down and standing up, shaking her head in amusement. “Well, y’all look like a pair of drowned rats.”
Apple Bloom wiped at her soaked bangs with a huff. “Woulda been nice if ya warned us about the rain.”
Applejack smirked. “Woulda been nice if y’all came in before it started.”
Amelia rubbed the back of her head, water flicking off her hoodie. “In our defense, it wasn’t rainin’ when we left.”
Derpy took a slow sip of her apple water. “It was scheduled.”
Apple Bloom deadpanned. “I don’t check the weather schedule, Derpy.”
Applejack just shook her head with a fond sigh before placing her hands on their backs and steering them toward the stairs. “Alright, alright. Get on upstairs and change before y’all catch a cold.”
Still giggling, Amelia and Apple Bloom let themselves be herded away, their socks squelching slightly with each step.
Big Mac, watching them go, simply hummed, lifting his glass to his lips. “Eeyup.”
Amelia sat on the edge of Apple Bloom’s bed, the fabric of her borrowed clothes still settling on her after swapping out of her soaked ones. The room was warm and cozy, a mix of rustic charm and teenage practicality. The wooden walls were decorated with a few hoofball posters—one of the Toffees team, another of the Equestrian national squad. There were trophies on a small shelf, nothing too grand, mostly for youth competitions or fitness achievements.
But what caught Amelia’s eye the most was the study desk. It was cluttered but organized, stacks of schoolwork neatly arranged, a few open books on anatomy and sports science scattered among them. However, one paper stood out. Pinned to the corkboard above the desk was a Nutrient Diet Routine.
Amelia got up, stepping closer to examine it. The paper was filled with meticulously written notes, each day of the week broken down into specific meals, all color-coded and balanced. There were slight scribbles here and there, crossings-out and rewritten sections, as if Apple Bloom was still fine-tuning it.
It wasn’t something Amelia expected to find, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Apple Bloom wasn’t just a fitness coach in title—she lived it. She wasn’t just some filly tagging along in the world of professional hoofball; she was dedicated, studying it, learning it, trying to perfect it.
Her eyes skimmed over the plan.
Apple Bloom’s Nutrient Diet Routine (Work in Progress)
Monday – Recovery & Hydration Focus
• Breakfast: Oatmeal with banana & flaxseed, fresh apple juice
• Lunch: Hay salad with walnuts & cranberries, whole grain bread, carrot smoothie
• Dinner: Lentil soup, steamed spinach, grilled mushroom steak
• Snacks: Almonds, dried pears, peanut butter on rye crackers
• Hydration Goal: 2.5 liters of water
Tuesday – Strength Training Fuel
• Breakfast: Scrambled eggs with cottage cheese, oat pancakes with honey
• Lunch: Roasted chickpea wrap, quinoa salad, coconut water
• Dinner: Baked sweet potatoes, tofu stir-fry, steamed broccoli
• Snacks: Sunflower seeds, yogurt with berries, protein hay bars
• Hydration Goal: 3 liters of water
Wednesday – Endurance Boost
• Breakfast: Chia seed pudding with apple slices, almond milk
• Lunch: Barley & vegetable stew, whole grain toast, herbal tea
• Dinner: Beetroot and carrot soup, grilled asparagus, brown rice
• Snacks: Cashews, peanut butter apple slices, boiled eggs
• Hydration Goal: 2.8 liters of water
Thursday – Light Training Recovery
• Breakfast: Porridge with chia and blueberries, chamomile tea
• Lunch: Lentil and quinoa bowl, avocado, fresh tomato juice
• Dinner: Grilled eggplant and zucchini, mashed pumpkin, kale salad
• Snacks: Rice cakes with hummus, dried apricots, apple chips
• Hydration Goal: 2.5 liters of water
Friday – Power & Muscle Repair
• Breakfast: Peanut butter oat smoothie, scrambled eggs with mushrooms
• Lunch: Grilled seitan wrap, roasted brussels sprouts, green tea
• Dinner: Quinoa with roasted chickpeas, baked carrots, steamed greens
• Snacks: Almond butter with crackers, celery sticks with hummus, protein shakes
• Hydration Goal: 3 liters of water
Saturday – Pre-Game Prep (Focus on Carbs & Protein)
• Breakfast: Whole wheat toast with peanut butter & banana, honey lemon tea
• Lunch: Pasta with spinach and nuts, boiled potatoes, carrot juice
• Dinner: Stir-fried tofu, buckwheat pancakes, side of mixed greens
• Snacks: Rice pudding, yogurt, granola bars
• Hydration Goal: 3.2 liters of water
Sunday – Game Day Fuel (Light but Energy-Packed Meals)
• Breakfast: Fruit smoothie with oats and flaxseed, scrambled egg whites
• Lunch: Light veggie sandwich on whole wheat, fresh fruit juice
• Dinner: Grilled mushrooms, sweet potato mash, high-fiber bread
• Snacks: Trail mix, banana with peanut butter, protein smoothie
• Hydration Goal: 3.5 liters of water
Amelia raised an eyebrow, impressed. This is… legit.
She reached out to adjust the paper slightly, reading over more of the finer details, when she heard the sound of footsteps against the wooden floor behind her. Apple Bloom froze mid-step, towel still draped around her shoulders, when she saw Amelia standing by her desk, reading through her Nutrient Diet Routine.
Her ears twitched. “H-hey now, don’t go snoopin’ through my stuff.” she muttered, cheeks immediately flushing pink as she marched over, reaching to snatch the paper off the corkboard.
Amelia smirked, stepping back just enough to keep it out of Apple Bloom’s reach. “Relax, I was just looking. Didn’t think you were a full-on nutritionist.”
Apple Bloom huffed, crossing her arms, her tail flicking behind her in a flustered manner. “I ain’t a nutritionist.” she mumbled. “Just… been doin’ research is all.”
Amelia turned the paper toward her. “This is pretty detailed for just ‘research.’ You got full breakdowns, color-coded sections, hydration goals—” She shot Apple Bloom a teasing grin. “Neeeeerd.”
Apple Bloom’s blush deepened, her freckled cheeks practically glowing now. “I—I ain’t no nerd!” she sputtered, snatching the paper from Amelia’s hands this time and pressing it against her chest like it was a deep, personal secret. “It’s just—y’know—I gotta know this stuff if I wanna be a proper fitness coach. Can’t be tellin’ ponies how to train if I don’t even know how to fuel ‘em right.”
Amelia chuckled, plopping herself onto the bed. “Relax, I think it’s cool. You care about this stuff, that’s not nerdy—that’s dedicated.”
Apple Bloom hesitated, then glanced at the paper in her hands, rubbing her thumb over the edges. “…Ya think so?”
“Yeah.” Amelia stretched, leaning back onto her elbows. “Besides, if it makes you feel better, I’ll be your test subject.”
Apple Bloom blinked. “…Huh?”
Amelia grinned. “Lemme try the diet. I’ll follow your routine, see how it works. If something needs adjusting, you’ll know. I’ll be your little guinea pig.”
Apple Bloom’s ears perked slightly, her blush still lingering, but now there was a flicker of excitement behind her eyes. “Ya really wanna try it?”
“Why not?” Amelia shrugged. “I could use a proper diet plan anyway if I wanna take this hoofball thing seriously. Might as well let you use me as a test run.”
Apple Bloom’s fingers tightened around the paper, her expression shifting between flustered embarrassment and genuine happiness. Then, with a small smirk, she nodded. “Alright then. You’re officially my first client.”
“Sweet.” Amelia grinned. “Just don’t expect me to give up hay fries without a fight.”
Apple Bloom giggled, finally relaxing as she set the paper back onto the desk. “No promises. But if ya start cryin’ over broccoli, I’ll be sure to write it down in my notes.”
Amelia rolled her eyes playfully, while Apple Bloom, still a little pink-faced, took a seat at her desk, already thinking about adjustments she could make.
Amelia stretched, arms over her head, letting out a satisfied hum as she gazed out the window. Rain continued to hammer against the glass in thick sheets, the orchard outside fading into a blur of dark greens and browns. She sighed, rolling her shoulders.
“When’s this supposed to stop?” she muttered absently.
From the desk across the room, Apple Bloom barely looked up from her notebook as she grabbed her phone and tapped the screen. “Lemme check the schedule.”
Amelia blinked. “The… schedule?”
Apple Bloom hummed in confirmation, still flipping through her screen. “Yeah, the weather schedule. Let’s see…” Her amber eyes scanned the screen, her expression completely casual. “Ah. Looks like it’s gonna rain all night.”
Amelia frowned, straightening. “Wait. Hold on. Schedule? You mean forecast, right?”
Apple Bloom finally looked up, eyebrows furrowing slightly as she turned in her chair. “What?”
“The forecast.” Amelia repeated, gesturing vaguely toward the rain outside. “Like, the thing that predicts the weather?”
Apple Bloom gave her a long, slow blink. Then another.
Then, she tilted her head, resting an elbow on her desk. “…Are ya livin’ under a rock or somethin’?”
Amelia stiffened. “Excuse me?”
Apple Bloom set her phone down, turning fully toward Amelia now, her expression somewhere between amusement and mild disbelief. “Pegasus ponies control the weather. Ain’t no forecast. Ain’t no guessin’. It’s planned.”
Amelia stared. “…You’re joking.”
Apple Bloom squinted. “Aurora, where have you been?”
Amelia opened her mouth, then shut it. If only you knew.
Apple Bloom shook her head, exhaling sharply. “Okay, but seriously. Have ya never noticed how the rain, snow, or even sunny days just… happen when they’re supposed to?”
Amelia folded her arms, frowning. “I mean, yeah, but—”
“But what?” Apple Bloom leaned forward slightly. “How else did ya think the seasons worked?”
“I dunno! I figured they just… happened!”
Apple Bloom’s mouth opened slightly, then closed, her ears twitching as she processed that answer.
“…Aurora.” she said finally, her voice quiet, almost pitying. “That’s not how anything works.”
Amelia groaned, rubbing her temples. “This place makes no sense.”
Apple Bloom let out a small giggle, shaking her head. “Pegasus ponies got whole schedules for this stuff. They plan it all out, make sure we get the right amount of rain, sunshine, clouds—whatever we need.” She smirked slightly, her tone turning playful. “Seriously, what kinda rock ya been hidin’ under?”
Amelia shot her a glare. “I don’t like your tone.”
Apple Bloom grinned, resting her chin in her palm. “I don’t like that ya don’t know basic weather, but here we are.”
Amelia groaned again, throwing her hands up. “Apparently under a rock, according to you!”
Apple Bloom just shook her head, clearly entertained, before stretching her arms with a content sigh. “Well, either way.” she said, tilting her chair back, “ya ain’t goin’ home in this mess.”
Amelia scoffed. “It’s just rain.”
Apple Bloom’s ears perked, and suddenly, her eyes lit up.
“Ohhh, ya know what?”
Amelia immediately narrowed her eyes. “…What?”
Apple Bloom sat up straighter, her feet lightly tapping against the floor as excitement bubbled beneath her voice. “Ya should sleep over!”
Amelia blinked. “Wait. What?”
“Yeah! It’s rainin’ like crazy, it’s late, and I ain’t lettin’ ya walk back to Ponyville in all that mud.” Apple Bloom leaned forward, her hands clasped together in front of her. “Stay!”
Amelia hesitated, glancing toward the window again. The rain was getting worse…
Apple Bloom suddenly gasped, gripping the desk edge as she sat up even straighter. “Oh! We could make cocoa, maybe play some games, or—” Her voice pitched slightly higher, her tail flicking excitedly. “I finally get to have a proper sleepover with a friend!”
Amelia blinked.
Apple Bloom stared at her, her face open, hopeful.
Amelia exhaled sharply, shaking her head with a smirk. “You are way too excited about this.”
Apple Bloom huffed, crossing her arms with a small pout. “W-well, I don’t get a lotta chances to do this, alright?” Her ears flicked back slightly, her blush creeping up as she quickly turned away, pretending to be interested in a loose paper on her desk.
Amelia sighed through her nose, running a hand through her mane before shaking her head.
“Fine. I’ll stay.”
Apple Bloom froze for a second.
Then, her entire face lit up.
Her tail flicked happily behind her as she bounced up from her chair, her freckles standing out more against her flushed cheeks. “Yes!”
Before Amelia could react, Apple Bloom grabbed her wrist and bolted for the hallway.
“C’mon! We gotta get everythin’ ready!”
Amelia barely had time to register being dragged out of the room, but she was grinning under her breath the whole way.
Yeah. She was in for the night.
Before the sleepover was officially set in stone, Applejack made a quick call to Fluttershy to make sure it was okay for Amelia to stay the night. It didn’t take much convincing—Fluttershy, as expected, was more than fine with it, even sounding relieved that Amelia wouldn’t have to trek home through the downpour.
And just like that, it was official.
Dinner was simple but filling—fresh apple stew with warm cornbread, something that made Amelia wonder if every single meal in this house had apples in it. Not that she was complaining. It was good, comforting even, perfect for a cozy night in.
After dinner, they retreated to Apple Bloom’s room, flipping open her laptop to binge-watch hoofball content. Laying on their bellies side by side, they had a whole line-up: match highlights, player breakdowns, and, of course, clips of the best of the best.
The Six Prodigies. Jet Fuel. Zion. Mudd Bludd. Karma.
They watched as legends performed impossible feats—outrageous goals, unreal saves, pinpoint passes that made defenders look like training cones. Every now and then, Amelia would comment on a player’s style, and Apple Bloom would eagerly chime in with her own analysis, her tail flicking every time they watched something impressive.
At one point, Apple Bloom nudged Amelia’s side, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Y’know, I reckon ya could pull off some of these saves if ya train hard enough.”
Amelia snorted. “Yeah, let me just casually stop shots like Karma in my spare time. The pony is a freak of nature with his reflexes.”
Apple Bloom giggled, leaning in just a little closer. “Betcha could, though.”
Amelia shook her head, amused, but didn’t argue.
Once the videos started blending into each other, and both of them began to feel the weight of the long day, they decided to change into something more comfortable.
Apple Bloom rummaged through her drawers before tossing a pair of her pajamas to Amelia—soft, plaid sleep shorts and a loose tee with ‘Sweet Apple Acres’ printed on it.
Amelia raised an eyebrow. “Y’all got custom shirts for your farm?”
Apple Bloom, now tugging on her own sleep shirt, puffed her cheeks. “It’s promotional.”
“Uh-huh.” Amelia smirked but went ahead and changed anyway.
The two of them made their way downstairs, the farmhouse quiet except for the occasional creak of the wooden floors under their steps. Derpy was already gone, and oddly enough, so was Big Mac—Applejack had mentioned something about him meeting somepony, but she didn’t elaborate.
With nothing else to do, Amelia and Apple Bloom decided to make a warm, comforting dessert—Apple Crumble. Of course, neither of them were exactly professional bakers, so they asked Applejack for some help.
Just as they were about to start gathering ingredients, Amelia noticed two small figures peeking from the kitchen doorway. Marble and Stonehoof, their eyes big and curious, stood hesitantly at the entrance, half-hidden behind the wooden frame.
Applejack, noticing them too, smiled warmly. “Well, y’all just gonna stand there, or ya wanna help us make somethin’ sweet?”
Marble’s ears perked slightly, but she hesitated, glancing at Stonehoof. Stonehoof, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to step forward but wasn’t sure if he was allowed.
Apple Bloom, ever the welcoming one, waved them over. “C’mon! It’s real fun, promise!”
Still cautious but clearly intrigued, the twins finally padded into the kitchen, standing near Applejack as she started walking them through the steps. Amelia watched as the two foals carefully listened to each instruction, their small hands fumbling with measuring cups and flour bags.
Marble, despite her shyness, giggled when she accidentally got flour on Stonehoof’s nose. Stonehoof huffed dramatically and wiped it off, but instead of getting mad, he retaliated by booping her cheek with a light dusting of flour.
Marble gasped, eyes wide, before puffing out her cheeks in mock offense. She grabbed a tiny handful of flour and booped his forehead with it.
Apple Bloom giggled. “Now, now, don’t start a flour war in here.”
Marble and Stonehoof both nodded quickly, but their sneaky grins told Amelia that a flour war was already being silently declared.
Things got even messier when Amelia and Apple Bloom began mixing ingredients, sugar and butter sticking to their hands and fingers as they tried to work everything into a crumble topping.
That’s when Scootaloo walked in.
She stood in the doorway, blinking at the chaotic sight of her younger siblings with sticky hands and flour-covered noses. Dressed in Apple Bloom’s pajamas—an oversized sleep shirt and plaid shorts—she crossed her arms.
“What are you two doing?” she asked flatly.
“Making Apple Crumble!” Stonehoof chirped, his navy eyes shining.
Scootaloo raised an eyebrow at the state of them. “You sure? Looks like you’re making a mess.”
Marble, determined to prove her point, held up a carefully measured bowl of sugar with both hands. “We’re helping!”
Scootaloo sighed, running a hand through her mane. “Alright, alright…” She turned to Applejack. “They’re not bothering you, are they?”
Applejack smirked. “Not at all. In fact, why don’t ya join us?”
Scootaloo’s ears twitched backward. “I—nah, I’m good.”
“Pleaseeeeee?” Marble and Stonehoof whined in perfect unison, their eyes huge and pleading.
Scootaloo tensed like she was physically resisting their cuteness. “Ugh, you guys are so unfair.”
Stonehoof grabbed the sleeve of her borrowed pajama shirt. “You have to help! We don’t know what we’re doing!”
Scootaloo looked at them, then at the half-made crumble on the counter. Her expression was reluctant at best. But when Marble tugged at her arm and mumbled, “It’s really fun…”, she groaned.
“Fine, but if I get flour in my mane, I’m blaming all of you.”
Marble and Stonehoof cheered like she had just agreed to buy them a puppy.
As the baking continued, Amelia noticed something—Scootaloo was hesitant. She followed every instruction with careful movements, pausing slightly before adding ingredients as if afraid of messing up.
She’s never done this before.
For somepony as fiercely independent as Scootaloo, that was kind of surprising.
So, without making a big deal of it, Amelia stepped beside her. “Here, lemme show ya.” she murmured, reaching out to demonstrate how to properly mix the crumble topping without overworking it.
Scootaloo stiffened slightly but—surprisingly—didn’t pull away or snap at her. She simply watched, nodding before copying the motion.
Progress.
After the crumble was safely in the oven, the group washed up and settled in for a movie.
Marble and Stonehoof picked a comedy—something about a stallion who magically couldn’t lie because of a wish his son made. It was lighthearted, full of exaggerated reactions and awkward truths spilling out at the worst possible moments.
Apple Bloom, already comfortable, curled up beside Amelia, resting her head against her shoulder with a tired hum.
Amelia sighed, shaking her head with a smirk. “Y’know, you’ve been using me as a pillow a lot lately.”
Apple Bloom, barely lifting her head, peeked up at her with sleep-heavy eyes. “…Ya don’t seem to mind.”
Amelia snorted softly. “That’s not the point.”
Apple Bloom let out a slow, content sigh, nuzzling further into Amelia’s side. “M’comfy…”
Amelia groaned, but it had no weight behind it. With a resigned shake of her head, she wrapped an arm and a wing around Apple Bloom, pulling her close.
“Alright, alright, get comfy, ya little barnacle.”
Apple Bloom giggled sleepily, nuzzling in just a little more.
Meanwhile, Marble and Stonehoof had taken their own positions beside Scootaloo—Marble holding onto Scootaloo’s arm while Stonehoof half-laid across her lap.
Scootaloo, despite her usual tough exterior, didn’t push them away. Instead, she let out a quiet sigh, lightly patting Marble’s head while Stonehoof snuggled into her side.
For a while, there was nothing but the sound of the movie playing, the occasional chuckle from one of them, and the soft tapping of rain against the window.
For one night, everything felt peaceful.
The film was reaching its climax, but Amelia barely paid attention. The warm weight against her side had grown heavier over the past hour, and a quick glance down confirmed what she already suspected—Apple Bloom was out cold.
Her cheek was squished against Amelia’s shoulder, her lips parted slightly as soft little breaths escaped. She had curled into Amelia sometime during the film, her legs tucked close, one hand loosely gripping Amelia’s sleeve like she didn’t want her to move.
Across from them, Marble and Stonehoof had fallen asleep on Scootaloo just as comfortably, their small bodies completely relaxed.
Marble was curled up against Scootaloo’s side, her tiny hands holding onto the fabric of Scootaloo’s pajama shirt like it was a lifeline. She had a thumb in her mouth, her ears twitching ever so slightly as she mumbled something incoherent in her sleep.
Stonehoof had claimed Scootaloo’s lap as his personal pillow, his head resting comfortably there while Scootaloo absentmindedly stroked his mane, her fingers lightly brushing over his soft navy strands. Every now and then, she moved some of his mane out of his face, her expression softer than Amelia had ever seen it.
Scootaloo sighed quietly, still watching the movie, but her focus had clearly shifted. She huffed, rubbing her thumb gently over Marble’s cheek.
“Figures.” she muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “Guess I better get these two to bed before they drool all over me.”
But she didn’t move.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to—more like she couldn’t. Marble was clinging to her like a baby koala, and Stonehoof’s weight made it impossible to shift without waking him up.
Amelia smirked. “Need a hand?”
Scootaloo shot her a look, skeptical, before glancing at the foals wrapped around her. She hesitated, then huffed again. “Not like I have much of a choice.”
Amelia carefully shifted, trying to lift Apple Bloom off her shoulder without disturbing her too much. But just as she started to move—
Apple Bloom let out a small, drowsy whine.
Amelia froze.
Apple Bloom shifted, burrowing deeper against Amelia’s side, squeezing her sleeve tighter. “Mmm… warm…” she mumbled, nuzzling her face into Amelia’s shoulder.
Amelia bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from reacting too loudly.
“Apple Bloom.” she whispered.
Apple Bloom just mumbled again, her tail flicking lazily behind her. “Mmm… don’t leave yet… comfy…”
Scootaloo snorted.
Amelia shot her a glare. “Shut up.”
Scootaloo smirked but didn’t say anything, watching as Amelia carefully—carefully—lowered Apple Bloom’s head onto the couch where she had been sitting. The filly mumbled something again, her nose scrunching up slightly before she sighed in contentment, curling up like a cat.
With Apple Bloom settled, Amelia turned her attention to Stonehoof. Gently, she slid her arms under him, lifting him with the kind of ease that only came from experience. His small body was surprisingly warm, his little face completely relaxed despite the slight furrow in his brow.
Scootaloo, meanwhile, carefully peeled Marble off her side. Marble stirred, mumbling something unintelligible before she latched onto Scootaloo’s arm like she was still half-aware in her sleep.
Scootaloo sighed softly, running a thumb across Marble’s cheek to soothe her. “Shh, it’s okay… we’re just going to bed, Mabs.”
Marble let out a tiny hum, still clutching her arm as Scootaloo adjusted her grip, holding her securely against her chest.
As they made their way upstairs, Amelia glanced at Scootaloo, who was carrying Marble with the same care and ease that she had handled Stonehoof.
It was… strange. Seeing Scootaloo like this.
So much of her usual sharpness was gone. There was no cocky smirk, no challenging glare—just quiet protectiveness, her body moving automatically to keep Marble comfortable, her hands adjusting her hold every few steps.
Amelia didn’t say anything. She just observed.
They reached the twins’ room, and Amelia gently lowered Stonehoof into bed, carefully tucking the blankets around him. His face twitched slightly, and suddenly, he mumbled something in his sleep.
“Don’t let the bad ponies take me… please…”
Scootaloo froze.
Her grip on Marble tightened, and Amelia—who had just finished making sure Stonehoof was snug—immediately turned to look at her.
Scootaloo’s eyes were locked on her little brother, a flicker of something—worry, frustration, guilt—passing over her face.
Marble stirred slightly in her arms, and Scootaloo, as if snapping out of it, adjusted her grip and placed Marble down beside Stonehoof.
She tucked them both in, running her fingers through Marble’s mane before brushing a few stray strands away from Stonehoof’s forehead.
Amelia, watching quietly, finally broke the silence.
“You’re good with them.”
Scootaloo hesitated, then snorted softly, shaking her head. “You sound surprised.”
“A little.” Amelia admitted.
Scootaloo just huffed, but there was no bite to it. She looked back down at the sleeping foals, her fingers still lingering in Marble’s mane. “They need somepony.”
There was something heavy in her voice.
Amelia didn’t push.
Instead, she knelt beside the bed, glancing back at Stonehoof. “You looked surprised earlier. What—never seen somepony hold a foal before?”
Scootaloo’s ear flicked. “Just didn’t expect you to know what you’re doing.”
Amelia smirked. “My mom used to run a daycare. She made me help out all the time.”
Scootaloo blinked, looking at her like that was the last thing she expected to hear.
“…Huh.”
“Yeah. So, y’know, I’ve handled a fair share of foals before.” Amelia smirked, shrugging. “Not that useless.”
Scootaloo rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. She just sighed, rubbing the back of her head. “Whatever.”
They both turned to look at the foals again, the quiet sounds of their soft breathing filling the room.
Amelia reached over and pulled the blanket up a little more, making sure Stonehoof was warm.
Scootaloo lingered for just a second longer, then ran her thumb across Marble’s cheek one last time before standing.
She flicked off the light, and they both stepped out, gently closing the door behind them.
For a few moments, neither of them spoke.
Then, Scootaloo, without looking at Amelia, muttered, “Thanks.”
Amelia raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. “For what?”
Scootaloo shrugged, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “Just… for help.”
Amelia smirked. “Huh. Didn’t know you were capable of saying ‘thanks.’”
Scootaloo shot her a flat look. “Forget I said anything.”
Amelia chuckled but said nothing else as they walked back downstairs.
Amelia sighed as she stepped into the kitchen, stretching her arms before grabbing a glass from the cupboard. The house was quiet now, only the faint sound of rain tapping against the windows. She turned on the tap, letting the cool water fill the glass as Scootaloo leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes distant.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, Amelia, casually taking a sip, asked, “So… where are your parents?”
Scootaloo’s shoulders stiffened.
Amelia watched her over the rim of her glass. “I mean, it’s just… kinda weird, isn’t it? All this stuff happened, and they’re not here looking after you or your siblings.”
Scootaloo’s expression turned stony in an instant.
“…None of your business.”
Amelia lowered her glass. “I dunno, kinda feels like my business, considering I was the one taking care of your little brother and sister while you were in the hospital.”
Scootaloo shot her a glare. “Yeah? Well, I didn’t ask you to do that, did I?”
Amelia leaned against the counter, not backing down. “No, you didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that they’re alone a lot, and you’re—” She gestured vaguely at her. “You. Running around, acting like you don’t have anypony but yourself to rely on. I get it, you’re tough, you don’t need help—but that’s not how it’s supposed to be, Scootaloo.”
Scootaloo’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know anything about how it’s supposed to be.”
Amelia scoffed. “Yeah? So enlighten me.”
Scootaloo’s wings bristled. “Why do you even care?”
“Because it doesn’t make sense!” Amelia set her glass down with a quiet clink. “You live in Ponyville, where everypony sticks their nose in everypony else’s business, but somehow, somehow, nopony knows where you live, where your parents are, or why they’re not here!” She gestured toward the ceiling, where Marble and Stonehoof were sleeping peacefully. “They’re just foals, Scootaloo! They shouldn’t have to worry about stuff like this!”
Scootaloo’s hands balled into fists. “And you think I don’t know that?!”
Amelia stared at her, surprised by the sudden outburst.
Scootaloo took a sharp breath, turning away, gripping the edge of the counter. Her wings twitched, tension rolling off her in waves.
Amelia softened slightly. “Look, I’m not tryna pick a fight, alright? I just—” She exhaled through her nose. “I wanna understand.”
Scootaloo shook her head, her voice lower now, but colder. “You won’t.”
Amelia frowned. “Why not?”
Scootaloo turned to face her, and for the first time, Amelia saw something raw underneath the anger—something deeper, heavier.
“You just won’t!”
The words were sharp, cutting through the space between them.
Amelia opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Scootaloo stared her down, eyes hardened, but there was something else there. Something guarded.
Then, before Amelia could even think of what to say next—
“Stop it!”
Both of them turned.
Apple Bloom stood in the doorway, ears pinned back, tail flicking anxiously. Her eyes darted between them, worry swimming in her expression.
“Please.” she pleaded, her voice softer now. “Just… just stop. Go to bed. Both of ya.”
Scootaloo clenched her jaw, then pushed away from the counter, storming past Apple Bloom without another word.
She went upstairs, the door to the guest room shut with a quiet but firm click.
Amelia let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of her neck.
Apple Bloom frowned up at her. “Why’d ya have to push her?”
Amelia exhaled, shaking her head. “Because… somepony has to.”
Apple Bloom’s ears twitched, uncertain, but she didn’t say anything else.
With a tired sigh, Amelia grabbed her glass, finished the rest of her water, and muttered, “Come on. Let’s just go to bed.”
The weight of the argument with Scootaloo still lingered in Amelia’s mind, pressing at the edges of her thoughts even as she lay in bed. She couldn’t shake it—the look in Scootaloo’s eyes, the bitterness in her voice. She wanted to understand, she really did, but it felt like Scootaloo had built a wall so thick that nothing could break through.
But here, in the quiet warmth of Apple Bloom’s room, things felt… softer.
By the time they were both ready for bed, Apple Bloom flopped onto the mattress beside her with a deep sigh, stretching her limbs out like she had spent the whole day working—well, she had, but Amelia still found the dramatic display amusing.
She lay there for a moment, blinking lazily up at the ceiling, then rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow. Her mane, still slightly damp from her shower, fell over her shoulder, her golden eyes watching Amelia with something quiet and unreadable.
Then, without warning, she scooted closer, pressing her forehead lightly against Amelia’s shoulder.
Amelia froze for a second, caught off guard. “…Uh?”
Apple Bloom hummed sleepily. “Ya smell nice.”
Amelia blinked. “What?”
Apple Bloom let out a little sigh, her voice thick with sleep. “Like fresh air n’ apples.”
Amelia’s ears flicked, feeling an unexpected warmth rise in her cheeks. “That’s just ‘cause I’ve been workin’ in the orchard all day.”
Apple Bloom let out a soft giggle, her tail flicking against the sheets. “Maybe.”
She nestled in a little closer, clearly getting comfortable, and Amelia, still a little unsure what to do with the sudden closeness, hesitantly patted her head.
“You’re real… clingy when you’re tired, huh?”
Apple Bloom didn’t even try to deny it. “Mmmhmm.”
Amelia sighed through her nose, shaking her head fondly.
She was starting to get it now.
She remembered when she was younger, when she would crawl into bed with Jason—no, Redsica—after a bad dream, or on nights when she just needed to feel safe. She used to cling to him, wrapping herself around his arm, nuzzling into his side, and he’d always sigh like she was the biggest inconvenience in the world.
She used to think he was just being dramatic.
But now, with Apple Bloom all but curled into her side, using her as a pillow, Amelia finally understood what he had meant.
Apple Bloom let out a sleepy mumble. “Yer my pillow from now on.”
Amelia smirked. “Really? Is that all I am now?”
Apple Bloom, without hesitation: “Eeyup.”
Amelia huffed out a quiet chuckle, rolling onto her side to face her properly.
Apple Bloom’s eyes fluttered open slightly, watching her curiously—then widening when Amelia draped a wing over her, pulling her just a little closer.
Apple Bloom stiffened. “W-wait, what’re ya doin’?” she stammered, her cheeks dusted pink.
Amelia smirked. “You’ve been using me as a pillow all day. Thought I’d return the favor.”
Apple Bloom made a sound that was somewhere between a protest and a flustered squeak, her ears twitching. “That’s—”
But Amelia just got comfortable, resting her arm gently around Apple Bloom’s waist, making it impossible for her to escape even if she wanted to.
For a moment, Apple Bloom seemed too stunned to move.
Then, with a small, reluctant huff, she tucked herself against Amelia’s chest, her blush still lingering.
“…Guess it ain’t so bad…” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Amelia chuckled, her wing shifting slightly to tuck around Apple Bloom more securely. “Told ya.”
Apple Bloom hesitated, then, after a brief moment of thought, nuzzled into the crook of Amelia’s neck.
Amelia blinked, surprised at the bold move, but didn’t pull away.
Instead, she exhaled softly, resting her chin lightly on top of Apple Bloom’s head.
The rain tapped gently against the window, filling the room with a rhythmic lull. The warmth of Apple Bloom’s small frame curled into hers, the steady sound of her breathing—everything felt… peaceful.
And, for the first time that night, Amelia let her mind rest.
The sky stretched endlessly above Cloudsdale, the city of clouds glowing under the moonlight. Though the night was still, the cold breeze carried the crisp scent of the high-altitude air, making Fluttershy tug her scarf tighter around her neck. She exhaled, watching her breath curl into the sky before fading away.
She was supposed to bring Aurora along tonight. Show her Cloudsdale, let her walk its streets, maybe—hopefully—see if anything sparked a memory. But with the sudden shift in the weather, she had decided against it. It was better for Aurora to stay warm and safe at Sweet Apple Acres.
So, instead, it was just her and Rainbow Dash.
The two of them stood outside a humble little cloud house, its soft, rounded edges glowing warmly from the light inside. It wasn’t extravagant, not like the towering cloud mansions of some pegasi, but it was home.
Rainbow Dash stretched her arms over her head, her breath coming out in puffs of steam. “Y’know, I was the one who suggested this visit.” she said, casting Fluttershy a sidelong glance. “But I still don’t know how I managed to drag you here.”
Fluttershy shifted on her feet. “I-I know… It’s been a while.”
Rainbow’s expression softened. “They’ve been talking about you a lot. Asking how you’ve been.”
That made Fluttershy pause.
“They… they have?”
“Duh.” Rainbow smirked, nudging her lightly. “They miss you. Mom’s always asking how you’re doing in Ponyville, Dad keeps saying he hopes you’re taking care of yourself.” She rolled her eyes, but there was an underlying fondness in her tone. “They’re proud of you, y’know?”
Fluttershy swallowed, guilt creeping into her chest. “I should’ve visited sooner…”
Rainbow, catching the flicker of anxiety on her face, immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Hey. Don’t sweat it.” she said, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “I’ve been keeping them updated. Told them all about how great you’ve been doing—helping animals, looking after Aurora, being all responsible and stuff.”
Fluttershy hesitated, her ears twitching, before allowing herself a small smile. “You… you really told them all that?”
“Yeah.” Rainbow grinned. “And I might’ve exaggerated a little to make you sound even cooler.”
Fluttershy let out a small giggle despite herself.
Rainbow gave her one last nudge. “C’mon, Flutters. It’s just Mom and Dad. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Fluttershy inhaled deeply, then slowly let it out.
It had been a long time.
Rainbow knocked on the soft cloud door, the sound barely making a dent in the quiet night air. There was a brief pause, then the sound of footsteps padding toward the entrance. The door creaked open, and a familiar face peeked out—Windy Whistles, their mom.
At first, her expression was puzzled, blinking sleepily as if wondering who would visit so late. But the moment her eyes landed on Rainbow Dash, and then Fluttershy standing beside her, her face lit up with pure, unfiltered joy.
“Oh my stars—!”
Before Fluttershy could react, Windy launched forward, wings flapping in a blur as she closed the distance in an instant.
“Fluttershy!”
Fluttershy barely had time to squeak before she was enveloped in a whirlwind of motherly affection.
Windy cupped her cheeks, tilting her face from side to side, scanning her as if checking for any signs of distress. “Oh, sweetie, look at you! You’re still as lovely as ever! Have you been eating well? Sleeping enough? Staying warm? Oh, you must be freezing—why didn’t you bring a thicker scarf?”
Fluttershy tried to answer, but Windy didn’t give her the chance.
Instead, she peppered Fluttershy’s face with a rapid series of tiny kisses, mumbling between each one—“Oh, we’ve missed you so much! You don’t visit enough! You must come more often!”
Fluttershy, completely overwhelmed, turned bright pink. “O-oh! Um—”
Windy, oblivious to Fluttershy’s flustered state, pulled her into the warmest, tightest hug imaginable, swaying her side to side. “Oh, it’s been way too long, sweetheart! I was just telling Bow the other day, ‘I wonder how Fluttershy’s doing!’ And here you are! Oh, this is just wonderful!”
Fluttershy, now resembling a very surprised baby chick, peeked over Windy’s shoulder at Rainbow Dash, eyes silently pleading for help.
Rainbow, standing off to the side with her hands in her pockets, smirked knowingly. “Nope. You’re on your own, Flutters.”
Windy finally pulled back, still grinning ear to ear. “Oh, come inside! It’s way too cold to be standing out here! What were you two doing out in the night air? Oh, never mind that, come in, come in!”
She ushered them inside with the energy of a foal on Hearth’s Warming morning, practically bouncing as she led them in.
As Fluttershy stepped through the doorway, she instinctively rubbed her arm, still feeling the warmth of the hug lingering around her.
It had been a long time since she’d been here.
The moment Fluttershy stepped inside, she was wrapped in the immediate warmth of her childhood home. The scent of lavender, melted candle wax, and fresh cloud fabric filled the air, making her chest tighten with nostalgia. Everything looked just as she remembered—neat but cozy, with family photos still hanging in their usual spots and a soft, familiar hum of wind shifting through the house.
Windy Whistles fluttered ahead, practically bouncing with excitement. “Oh, you girls have no idea how perfect your timing is!” she gushed, her wings flapping as she gestured dramatically. “Your father and I were just having a lovely, romantic night together—dinner, wine, a little snuggling on the couch—and, well, let’s just say it probably would’ve led to us doing the deed in bed if you hadn’t shown up!”
Rainbow Dash froze, mid-step, her feathers ruffling in sheer horror. “MOM!”
Fluttershy immediately turned the color of a ripe apple, ears folding back as she let out a small, mortified squeak. “O-oh my…”
Windy just laughed, completely unbothered. “What? I’m just being honest! It’s healthy for a couple to keep the spark alive, you know!”
Rainbow groaned, dragging her hand down her face. “I hate that you have no filter.”
Fluttershy, still recovering, awkwardly cleared her throat. “Um, w-well, if we’re interrupting anything important, we can always come another—”
“Nonsense!” Windy waved a hand dismissively. “You are never an interruption, sweetheart! You’re our daughter! Your father is going to be thrilled to see you!”
Still slightly flustered, Fluttershy followed her mother through the house, her footsteps barely making a sound against the soft cloud flooring. Rainbow trailed behind, grumbling something under her breath about “permanent emotional damage.”
The living room was dimly lit, but not because it was dark—it was because the atmosphere was set.
The curtains were drawn, the main lights were off, and instead, several soft-glowing candles flickered warmly on the coffee table and windowsills. Two half-full glasses of wine sat beside a small bowl of chocolates. The couch had a thick, cozy blanket draped over it, and one side was flipped back, where Windy must have been sitting curled up next to—
Bow Hothoof.
He was sitting comfortably under the blanket, his large frame snug against the cushions. His ears twitched slightly at the sound of footsteps, but he didn’t look up right away, still watching the candlelight flicker.
Then he did.
And the second his eyes landed on Fluttershy, his entire face lit up with pure joy.
“Whi—oh, Fluttershy!”
In an instant, the blanket was discarded, and he was up and moving. Fluttershy barely had time to react before she was suddenly scooped up into a hug so tight and warm that she was momentarily weightless.
She let out a tiny oof as Bow wrapped his wings around her, holding her close like she was still a little filly. His embrace was as strong as ever, but it wasn’t overwhelming—just secure, safe, home.
“My little filly.” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s been way too long!”
Fluttershy, still caught in the overwhelming warmth of it all, blinked rapidly before relaxing into the hug, her wings trembling slightly as she hugged him back.
“Hi, Daddy.” she whispered, voice softer than usual.
Bow pulled back just enough to look at her properly, his mustache twitching with delight. Then, he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, just like he used to when she was small.
Windy giggled from behind them. “She’s been taking care of a filly of her own now, dear.”
Bow gasped dramatically, eyes widening. “That’s right! The filly—Aurora!” He squeezed Fluttershy’s shoulders gently before straightening up. “Oh, sweetheart, you have to tell us everything! How is she? Is she behaving? Do I need to have a talk with her?”
Fluttershy giggled softly, shaking her head. “She’s… a bit of a handful sometimes, but she’s wonderful, Daddy. You’d like her.”
Bow puffed out his chest. “Well, she’s got to be wonderful if my little filly is looking after her!”
Fluttershy felt something warm settle in her heart at that.
Windy clapped her hands together. “I cannot wait to hear all about it! But first, let’s get cozy! You two must be freezing from that awful weather!”
Rainbow, who had been standing at the doorway with an expression that screamed please stop talking about parenting in front of me, finally groaned. “Can we not talk about the Aurora thing yet? I came here for a nice visit, not a lecture.”
Windy and Bow turned to her with identical, knowing smiles.
Rainbow squinted. “…Why are you looking at me like that?”
Windy grinned. “No reason, sweetie.”
Bow chuckled. “We’re just proud of you, too, is all.”
Rainbow’s ears flicked, a faint pink dusting her cheeks. “Ugh.”
Fluttershy giggled softly, wrapping her wings around herself, letting the warmth of the moment sink in.
It had been far too long since she’d come home.
But standing here, in the soft glow of candlelight, her father still holding her close, her mother fussing over her, and even Rainbow being embarrassed in the background—
It was like she had never left.
The warmth of the house had melted away any lingering chill from outside, and soon, both Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash had shed their winter gear. Now, they sat comfortably on the couch, wrapped in a thick, soft blanket that smelled faintly of cloud fabric and their mother’s familiar lavender perfume.
Fluttershy was nestled between Windy Whistles’ hands, her mother hugging her close from behind, resting her chin atop Fluttershy’s head like she used to when Fluttershy was just a filly. The warmth of her mother’s embrace was something she had missed more than she realised. It felt safe. Comforting.
Meanwhile, Bow Hothoof had pulled Rainbow Dash into an identical hug, his strong arms wrapped securely around her. Unlike Fluttershy, however, Rainbow was visibly suffering.
“Ughhh, this is why Fluttershy doesn’t visit often! You smother her to death!” Rainbow groaned, shifting uncomfortably as her father only tightened his hold.
Windy chuckled, nuzzling into Fluttershy’s mane affectionately. “Oh, nonsense! Our little butterfly loves it, don’t you, sweetheart?”
Fluttershy, flustered but unable to stop a small, shy smile from forming, nodded softly. “I… I don’t mind.”
Rainbow gawked at her. “Seriously?! How?! You’re just letting her squeeze you to death!”
Fluttershy giggled, her wings twitching slightly. “It’s nice…”
Rainbow muttered something under her breath, clearly annoyed that she was the only one protesting.
Bow laughed heartily. “Shhh, Dashie. Just let it happen.”
Rainbow groaned dramatically, but deep down, she didn’t really mind. It was just how their parents were—overly affectionate, but in a way that made everything feel warm and right.
Windy, still holding Fluttershy, pulled back slightly and placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders, tilting her head as she gave Fluttershy a more scrutinising look.
“My, my…” she hummed, eyes sparkling. “Fluttershy, I swear, you’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you!”
Fluttershy blinked. “Oh… um… have I?”
Windy nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, absolutely! Just look at you! Your figure, your posture—your mane is longer too! And your coat is so glossy—oh, and your wings!” She reached out to gently stroke Fluttershy’s folded wing. “So soft! Are you using a new conditioner, sweetheart?”
Fluttershy’s face turned rosy at the attention. “O-oh, um… I just, um, started using a honey-infused one… It helps keep my feathers smooth.”
Windy beamed. “It certainly does! I swear, if I didn’t know any better, I’d mistake you for a model!”
Fluttershy squeaked, her blush deepening. “M-Mom!”
Windy giggled, pulling her back into a snug embrace. “I mean it, sweetheart! You’re absolutely stunning! And, well… any stallion would be lucky to have you as their marefriend.”
Fluttershy froze, her entire body tensing as steam practically erupted from her ears. “W-what?! I-I—!”
Bow perked up, his mustache twitching as he gave her a curious look. “Oh! Speaking of which—do you have a special somepony yet?”
Fluttershy’s brain short-circuited. “I—w-wha—NO! I mean—I—”
Rainbow, who had been waiting for this exact moment, smirked devilishly. “Yeah, Flutters, any stallion would be lucky to have you.”
Fluttershy whipped her head to glare at Rainbow, her entire face burning with embarrassment. “You are not helping!”
Bow chuckled, clearly amused. “Oh, come on now, sweetheart! Not even one pony has caught your eye?”
Windy gasped dramatically. “Not one?!”
Fluttershy buried her face in her hands. “I—I’m just… not really looking right now…”
Windy and Bow exchanged a knowing glance before grinning at each other.
“Well.” Windy mused, “I suppose we’ll just have to find somepony for you!”
Fluttershy whimpered in protest, covering her face with her wings.
Rainbow cackled, leaning back against Bow. “Oh, this is golden.”
Fluttershy sighed heavily, shaking her head as her parents chuckled lovingly beside her.
An hour had passed, filled with soft chatter, laughter, and the occasional embarrassing story that made her cheeks burn. Windy had wasted no time in fetching two extra glasses, pouring her daughters a taste of the wine she and Bow had been sharing.
Rainbow, always the teasing younger sister, had leaned in with a smirk, nudging her playfully. “Careful, Flutters. Don’t go drinking too much, unless you want a repeat of last time when I had to pry the bottle from your hands.”
Fluttershy had rolled her eyes at the time, mumbling something about how it wasn’t that bad. But as the night stretched on, and the wine flowed a little more freely, she could feel her cheeks growing warm, her body loosening, her mind drifting into a light, pleasant haze.
Now, standing in the kitchen beside her mother, sleeves rolled up as she gently washed the dishes, she let out a slow, contented sigh. The quiet hum of home surrounded her—the occasional clink of glasses, the distant sound of Rainbow and Bow still talking in the other room, the gentle patter of water against porcelain as she scrubbed away the remnants of dinner.
This was something she hadn’t realised she had missed. The simple, unspoken bond of helping in the kitchen, working side by side with her mother, the same way she used to when she was younger. Back then, she was smaller, standing on a stool to reach the sink, eager to help but too shy to say much. Her mother would always hum softly, sometimes telling her little stories, sometimes just letting the quiet be enough.
Now, years later, here they were again. Fluttershy wasn’t a little filly anymore, yet something about this moment made her feel safe. Like she had never left.
The soapy water was warm against her hands as she handed off a clean dish for her mother to dry. The rhythm was slow, easy, familiar. It was a nice contrast to how hectic her life had been lately—managing the sanctuary, caring for Aurora, navigating all the challenges that came with looking after a filly
Her mind drifted back to Aurora for a moment, wondering what she was doing at Applejack’s farm. Probably asleep by now, curled up under a thick blanket, her wings tucked in, her expression soft and peaceful. The thought made Fluttershy’s heart ache just a little. She was growing so fast—adapting, learning, finding her own place in Equestria.
And Fluttershy… she wasn’t sure if she was doing everything right, but she was trying.
She reached for another dish, her hands moving on autopilot as her mind swirled in a gentle haze of nostalgia, warmth, and quiet contentment.
Being here, with her mother, in the home she grew up in, felt like pressing pause on everything outside of this moment. And for the first time in a while, Fluttershy allowed herself to just be.
Then—bump!
Windy Whistles playfully nudged Fluttershy’s side with her rump, jolting her from her thoughts.
Fluttershy let out a small squeak, almost dropping the plate she had been washing. She turned her head, blinking in surprise as her mother gave her a knowing smile.
“You’re daydreaming, sweetheart.” Windy hummed as she dried a dish with a cloth, her tone light, but her eyes gentle. “What’s on your mind?”
Fluttershy hesitated, unsure how to put it into words, but before she could speak, Windy glanced down at her daughter’s legs, her expression softening. “How’s your knee, honey?”
Fluttershy’s ears drooped slightly, her hands briefly pausing under the running water. “…It’s okay.”
Windy’s smile faltered, just for a moment. She knew Fluttershy well enough to hear what she wasn’t saying. But she didn’t press—Fluttershy had always been like this. Holding things close to her heart, keeping her worries tucked away where no one could see.
Instead, Windy switched gears. “So, tell me about Aurora.”
Fluttershy glanced up, her expression shifting slightly. “Aurora?”
Windy nodded, her wings fluttering slightly as she placed another dry plate onto the rack. “Mmhmm. Rainbow had mentioned her a few times, but I want to know everything. How did you two meet? What’s she like? How do you two get along?”
Fluttershy felt her heart soften at the thought of Aurora, and she smiled a little as she rinsed another dish. “I… I found her on a cold, rainy night. She was lost. Alone. I felt so sorry for her… she looked so small out there in the storm. Without thinking, I took her to the Ponyville hospital. The poor thing had amnesia. She didn’t remember anything about herself. So… I swore to look after her until she got her memories back.”
Windy nodded, her eyes warm with understanding. “And what’s she like?”
Fluttershy let out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head slightly. “She’s… energetic. Friendly. But she’s also not afraid to stand up for herself. Or others.” Her voice softened. “She’s brave. And I think we have a good relationship. She trusts me.”
Windy watched her daughter carefully, sensing there was more. “And?”
Fluttershy sighed, placing the last dish into the drying rack before looking down at the sink. “…She wants to be a hoofball player.”
Windy blinked. “Oh?”
“She wants to play for The Toffees.” Fluttershy wiped her hands on a towel. “Applejack already gave her a contract, but… because of her age, she needs a guardian’s signature.”
Windy tilted her head slightly. “And that would be… you.”
Fluttershy nodded slowly. “Yes. But…” She hesitated, gripping the towel a little tighter. “After everything that happened… after Ottar… after everything I went through… I just… I feel like hoofball will ruin her life.”
Silence settled between them for a moment, the only sound being the distant hum of Rainbow and Bow talking in the living room.
Then, Windy set the dish towel down and turned to face Fluttershy fully, her expression suddenly much more serious.
“Fluttershy.” she said gently but firmly. “That’s not the right thing to do.”
Fluttershy flinched slightly, caught off guard by the shift in her mother’s tone. “But I—”
Windy placed a hand on her shoulder, her touch warm and steady. “Sweetheart… when I first laid eyes on you as a newborn, I promised myself that I would always protect you. From everything. I wanted nothing in the world to hurt you.”
Fluttershy swallowed thickly, feeling a lump rise in her throat.
Windy sighed softly, brushing a loose strand of pink mane behind her daughter’s ear. “But as you grew up… I started restricting you. Telling you what you could and couldn’t do. I thought I was keeping you safe… but all I was doing was suffocating you.” She let out a small, sad chuckle. “You were such a bright, energetic little filly. But because of me… you became more tentative. More afraid. More shy. You weren’t you anymore.”
Fluttershy looked down, ears pressed against her head. “Mom…”
Windy squeezed her shoulder gently. “I blamed myself for that, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have been so protective to the point of being selfish.” She glanced toward the doorway leading to the living room, where they could still hear Rainbow Dash’s voice faintly. “Then… came Rainbow Dash. And I vowed to never make the same mistake.”
Fluttershy’s chest tightened.
Windy continued, her voice filled with quiet conviction. “I let her be free. To explore. To make mistakes. To fall and get back up. I didn’t try to keep her locked away from the world, and because of that… she grew into who she was meant to be.”
She looked back at Fluttershy, her eyes full of love. “She got into hoofball at a young age. And you followed her.”
Fluttershy’s breath hitched slightly.
Windy smiled. “And I let you.”
Fluttershy closed her eyes, feeling her chest ache with something indescribable.
Windy sighed softly, rubbing small circles on her daughter’s back. “I don’t know how Rainbow Dash’s career will end, sweetheart. None of us do. But I do know that because I let her go, because I let her chase her dreams… she’s one of the greatest hoofball players this world has ever seen.” Her voice wavered slightly. “And I couldn’t be any prouder.”
Fluttershy inhaled shakily, her eyes stinging.
Windy pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “And I know you, sweetheart. I know that deep down, you already know the right choice.”
Fluttershy swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the counter.
Windy’s voice softened again, motherly and full of warmth. “Just… think about it, honey.”
Fluttershy nodded slowly, feeling her mother’s hands wrap around her once more, hugging her close.
And this time, she leaned into it.
As Fluttershy pressed her forehead against her mother’s shoulder, her eyes shut tight, thoughts swirled inside her head—thoughts she didn’t dare speak aloud.
Her mother’s words echoed in her mind, striking deep in a place she had tried to bury for years. I thought I was keeping you safe… but all I was doing was smothering you.
She had never thought of it that way before. Had never once blamed her mother for the way she had turned out. She had always told herself it was just who she was—shy, timid, fearful of standing out. But now, hearing Windy admit it, own it… Fluttershy wasn’t sure what to feel.
She had always looked up to Rainbow Dash, had admired her courage, her boldness, the way she could take risks without hesitation. The way she could be free. And yet, growing up, Fluttershy had convinced herself that she was just different. She wasn’t meant for that kind of life. She had accepted it.
But now, her mother was telling her that maybe—just maybe—it hadn’t been her after all.
Maybe it had been the limits placed around her. Maybe it had been fear. Not her own, but the fear her mother had placed in her, out of love.
Would I have been different? If I had been given the same freedom as Rainbow… would I have been more like her?
The thought was unsettling. She had always loved who she was—her gentle nature, her kindness, the way she cared for others. But had she truly chosen that? Or had she just adapted to what she was allowed to be?
Her chest tightened, her mother’s warmth grounding her.
And then came Aurora.
Aurora, no memories, no identity, no certainty of who she was supposed to be—yet she walked through life with confidence. She was brash, bold, and unafraid to speak her mind. She fought for herself. And despite all the challenges she faced, despite having no past to cling to, Aurora didn’t hesitate to carve her own path.
And now, she wanted hoofball.
She wanted freedom.
And Fluttershy… was taking that away from her.
Her stomach twisted.
She had told herself it was for Aurora’s own good. That hoofball would ruin her. That it would hurt her the same way it had hurt Fluttershy.
But was that really the truth?
Or was it just fear?
Was she doing to Aurora what her mother had done to her?
The realisation sent a shiver through her body.
Windy’s embrace was warm, steady. Loving.
She had made mistakes, just as Fluttershy was making them now. But she had learned. She had grown. She had let go.
Could Fluttershy do the same?
Her grip tightened around her mother.
The answer was there, sitting heavy in her heart, unspoken but undeniable.
She just didn’t know if her heart could handle what came with the fear of letting go.
Amelia’s eyes blinked open, greeted by the soft morning light seeping through the curtains. For a moment, she wasn’t entirely sure where she was—until she shifted slightly and felt a weight sprawled across her side.
She glanced down.
Apple Bloom was everywhere.
The filly had somehow managed to completely take over the bed, one leg thrown over Amelia’s stomach, the other dangling off the side of the mattress. Her face was smushed against the pillow, her mouth hanging open slightly as a thin trail of drool leaked onto the fabric. Every few seconds, she let out a tiny snore—soft, almost kitten-like, but entirely ungraceful.
Amelia stared at her for a long moment.
“…Huh.”
It wasn’t like Amelia had never shared a bed before. Back on Earth, sleepovers with friends often ended in messy, chaotic piles of blankets and limbs. But Apple Bloom? She slept like she fought—all in and unapologetically aggressive.
With a sigh, Amelia carefully shifted Apple Bloom’s arm off her stomach and stretched, feeling her muscles loosen up from the previous day’s work. The apple orchard had done a number on her, but nothing a good hot shower wouldn’t fix.
Slipping out of bed without waking Apple Bloom (a small victory in itself), she grabbed a towel and headed to the bathroom, letting the warm water wash away any stiffness and lingering sleep.
Afterward, she stared at her damp clothes from yesterday, still smelling like rain and sweat, and wrinkled her nose. No way was she putting those back on.
Luckily, Apple Bloom had lent her some clothes for the night, so she pulled on a simple t-shirt and a pair of shorts that fit… well enough.
When she returned to the room, Apple Bloom was still dead to the world, starfished across the bed. Amelia smirked slightly to herself before getting an idea.
She approached the bed quietly, positioned herself just right, then pinched Apple Bloom’s nose shut.
A few seconds passed.
Then—
“MMFPH—!”
Apple Bloom’s eyes shot open as she jolted upright, gasping for breath like she had just surfaced from the ocean.
“What in tarnation—?!” she sputtered, clutching at her nose before turning to glare at Amelia, who stood there, completely unfazed.
“Rise and shine, princess.” Amelia said dryly.
Apple Bloom squinted at her. “Ah hate you.”
“Breakfast?”
“…Jokin’. Ah love you.”
Downstairs, the smell of fresh apples and warm oatmeal filled the air as Amelia and Apple Bloom entered the kitchen.
Scootaloo was already at the table, sitting with her arms resting on the surface, staring down at her untouched bowl. She didn’t look particularly angry—which, honestly, was what Amelia had expected—but she also didn’t look like she was entirely here, either.
Lost in thought.
That was new.
Amelia hesitated, glancing at her as she sat down, but Scootaloo didn’t even acknowledge her presence. Just continued staring at her breakfast, absentmindedly shifting a spoon through it without taking a bite.
What’s going through your head, huh?
Marble and Stonehoof, meanwhile, were completely oblivious to whatever storm was brewing in Scootaloo’s mind. The two of them had settled in surprisingly well after last night, no longer hesitant around Amelia or Apple Bloom.
Marble, ever the little shadow, had scooted herself as close as physically possible to Apple Bloom without actually climbing onto her lap, absently swinging her legs under the chair as she hummed to herself. Stonehoof, meanwhile, was focused on absolutely destroying his oatmeal, shovelling it into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in days.
Adorable little gremlins, both of them.
Amelia exhaled through her nose, shaking her head as she grabbed a bowl for herself.
It was far too early for deep thoughts or mysteries.
For now, she’d focus on breakfast.
Once breakfast was done and dishes were cleaned, Amelia pushed her chair back, stretching with a satisfied sigh. She was about to follow Apple Bloom and the others out when—
“Aurora.”
She turned, spotting Applejack standing by the kitchen entrance, arms crossed.
There was something unreadable in her expression.
“Before you go.” Applejack said evenly, “come with me for a second.”
Amelia blinked, then nodded, following as Applejack led her out onto the porch. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of apples and damp earth from last night’s rain.
Applejack stopped a few steps ahead, looking over the orchard before glancing back at Amelia.
“Before ya leave, come find me.” Her voice was calm, steady. “I got somethin’ for ya—yer earnings from yesterday.”
Amelia straightened slightly. Right. She had worked for that.
But before she could say anything, Applejack added, “And… I wanna have a little talk with ya.”
A talk.
That could mean anything.
Amelia nodded slowly.
Applejack gave her one last look before heading back toward the barn, leaving Amelia standing there, the weight of those words settling in her chest.
She exhaled through her nose, rubbing the back of her neck.
Something told her this wasn’t just about money.
The barn smelled of fresh hay, aged wood, and the lingering scent of apples. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, caught in the beams of sunlight that filtered through the gaps in the walls. It was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of hay and the distant caw of crows outside.
Amelia stepped inside, her bag slung over her shoulder, an apple in her hand. She found Applejack exactly where she expected—working, as always. The earth pony was stacking crates, her muscles flexing with every movement, her hat tilted slightly over her eyes.
Hearing Amelia’s approach, Applejack glanced up and nodded. “Take a seat.” she said, motioning toward a hay bale.
Amelia hesitated for a moment before plopping down, feeling the scratchy texture of the hay against her shorts. Applejack wiped her hands on a cloth before turning to face her fully.
Without a word, Applejack reached into her pocket and pulled out three gold bits. One by one, she flicked them toward Amelia, each coin landing neatly in her hands.
Amelia stared at them.
“…This is it?” she blurted before she could stop herself.
Applejack raised an eyebrow, clearly having expected that reaction.
“That’s your payment for yesterday.” she said simply.
Amelia turned the coins over in her palm. Three. That was all? She had worked in that orchard all day, breaking a sweat, aching all over, and this was the payout? Was this even fair?
Applejack must have read her expression because she leaned against the wooden beam beside her, arms crossed. “Something wrong?”
Amelia hesitated. “…I just thought it’d be more.”
Applejack nodded slowly, as if confirming something to herself. “Yeah. I figured.”
Before Amelia could ask what that meant, Applejack straightened up and fixed her with a steady gaze.
“Now.” she said, her voice calm but firm, “I wanna talk.”
Amelia sat up slightly, her grip tightening around the apple in her hand.
Applejack’s eyes didn’t waver as she spoke. “Tell me your name, your age, your date of birth, where you were born, where you live, how you got here, and the names of your relatives.”
Amelia’s heartbeat picked up, but she forced herself to stay still.
She already had her script ready.
“My name is Aurora Breeze, I’m 15, born in 18th July 2010, I live with Fluttershy and I don’t know much else.” she said, her voice even. “Because of my amnesia.”
Silence.
Then—
“Stop lyin’ to me.”
Amelia went rigid.
Applejack’s tone hadn’t changed. It wasn’t sharp or accusatory. But it was final.
Amelia’s fingers curled slightly around the coins.
“I don’t tolerate lyin’ in my team.” Applejack continued, stepping closer, her presence heavier now. “So before you say another word, think real carefully about what comes next.”
The air in the barn felt thicker.
Amelia swallowed, her throat dry.
She knew Applejack was sharp. Knew she was observant. But she didn’t think she’d be this direct about it.
She had two options.
Lie again.
Or tell the truth.
And right now… neither felt safe.
The silence in the barn stretched for a beat, heavy and charged. Amelia could feel Applejack’s expectant gaze drilling into her, waiting.
Then—
“Applejack, quit puttin’ that poor filly on the spot like that!”
The scolding voice cut through the tension like a whip, making both Amelia and Applejack snap their heads toward the barn entrance.
Standing there, leaning on her cane with a look of mild disappointment—the kind only a grandmother could perfect—was Granny Smith.
The moment Applejack saw her, her entire demeanor shifted. The seriousness, the sharpness—it all melted away into something warmer, softer.
“Granny!” Applejack beamed, striding forward and wrapping the old mare in a firm hug, careful but strong. “Yer back!”
Granny Smith let out a light chuckle, patting Applejack’s arm. “’Course I’m back, sugarcube. Ain’t like I was gone forever. Just a lil’ vacation.”
Amelia, meanwhile, just stared.
Her brain had completely halted.
Granny Smith.
The Granny Smith.
The Toffees’ managerial legend.
The mare who had built the foundation of everything the club stood for. The one who had coached generations of Equestria’s greatest players. The one who had developed legends—Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Whisper Wings, Pinkie Pie, Grind Duster, Rarity, and Twilight Sparkle—some of the best talents the Toffees had ever produced.
And she was standing right there.
Amelia had been surrounded by hoofball professionals since she came to Equestria—had trained with them, spoken with them, competed against them. But this?
This was different.
This was like standing in front of a living monument.
She was too stunned to move.
Too stunned to breathe.
Applejack, completely unaware of Amelia’s internal meltdown, was still catching up with her grandmother.
“How was yer trip?” Applejack asked, her eyes full of warmth. “Didja finally take a break fer once?”
Granny waved a hand. “Oh, it was nice, real nice. Spent some time out in Vanhoover, ate some fancy food, met some interestin’ ponies. But y’know me—I can’t sit still too long. Gotta keep movin’, keep watchin’, keep teachin’.” She smirked slightly. “Didn’t take long ‘fore I was givin’ pointers to a bunch’a colts kickin’ a ball in the park.”
Applejack chuckled. “Figures.”
Then, finally, Granny turned her attention to Amelia.
And just like that, Amelia felt her entire body lock up.
Those old but sharp eyes scanned her up and down, not in a way that felt judgmental, but in a way that made her feel seen.
Applejack stepped back, letting her grandmother approach.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, young’un.” Granny said, her voice warm but firm. “Applejack’s been tellin’ me all about this ‘Amelia’, or should I say ‘Aurora Breeze’?”
Amelia swallowed.
Granny’s eyes twinkled knowingly. “Says you’re an excitin’ goalkeeper. Got the reflexes, got the potential.”
There was a pause before her smile faded, replaced by something much more serious.
“But y’see, sugarcube, in this team—we need honesty.”
The words hit.
Granny’s voice wasn’t harsh, wasn’t accusatory. But there was a weight to them, a finality.
“Without honesty.” she continued, “the integrity within the team would be lost. If a team can’t trust its players… then it ain’t much of a team at all.”
Amelia felt her throat tighten.
She wanted to tell them.
Tell them everything.
Tell them how her name wasn’t Aurora Breeze. Tell them how she had been teleported to this world. Tell them how she wasn’t a pegasus, how she wasn’t even a pony—how she was human by birth.
But…
She clenched her jaw, gripping the fabric of her shorts.
She didn’t know what to do.
Didn’t know if she could.
Because once she told the truth—once she let it all out—there would be no going back.
The weight of silence pressed down on Amelia, thick and suffocating.
She could feel the way Applejack and Granny Smith were watching her—waiting. Expecting.
Her mind screamed at her to say something, anything, but her throat had locked up. Her heart was hammering so loud she was sure they could hear it.
Then—
“Applejack.” Granny Smith said suddenly, her tone gentle but firm. “Introduce yerself.”
Amelia blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift.
Applejack, too, looked confused for a second, but after a glance at her grandmother, she gave a small nod and straightened up.
“Well.” she started, adjusting her hat, “My name’s Applejack. I’m 26 years old. Born and raised in Ponyville, grew up right here on Sweet Apple Acres. Lived my whole life workin’ this farm with my big brother, Big Mac, my little sister, Apple Bloom, and Granny Smith.”
She gestured slightly to her grandmother, who nodded approvingly before turning to Amelia.
“My turn, then.” Granny said with a knowing smile.
Amelia swallowed, feeling something shift in the air.
“My name’s Granny Smith.” the old mare continued. “But that ain’t the name I was born with.”
Amelia furrowed her brows slightly. What?
Granny let out a chuckle. “I wasn’t born n’ raised in Equestria either, sugarcube.”
That made Amelia sit up straighter.
“I reckon I stopped countin’ a long time ago, but I’m roundabout two hundred years old.”
Amelia froze.
Her pulse spiked.
Granny just kept going, her tone casual—like she wasn’t about to drop the biggest bombshell of Amelia’s life.
“I was born in a place called Texas.”
The world around Amelia felt like it had stopped.
The old mare’s next words landed like a hammer:
“And my real name ain’t Granny Smith. It’s Isabella Smith.”
Amelia stared.
Her brain could not process what she had just heard.
Granny Smith—the Granny Smith—wasn’t from Equestria.
She was human.
She had been human.
Just like her.
The air in Amelia’s lungs felt trapped. Her thoughts spiraled.
Texas. Isabella Smith. Two hundred years old.
It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.
Her mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out.
She couldn’t believe it.
But as she looked into Granny Smith’s eyes—those old, wise, knowing eyes—she realized something.
She wasn’t lying.
She wasn’t lying.
Amelia sat frozen, her mind spiraling, her breath shallow. The weight of Granny Smith’s—Isabella Smith’s—words pressed down on her like a mountain. She wanted to respond, wanted to demand answers, but her throat felt locked, her thoughts too tangled to make sense of.
Then, without a word, Granny Smith reached into the folds of her coat and pulled something out. It was small, rectangular, and well-worn from time and handling. She held it out to Amelia with a knowing look.
“Here. Take a look.”
Amelia hesitated before carefully taking the object. It was an old photograph—black and white, the edges curled and yellowed with age. She turned it over in her hands before focusing on the image itself.
Her breath caught.
It was a military photo.
A line of soldiers stood in uniform, rigid and disciplined, staring straight ahead. And there, among them, was a young woman. Tall. Strong. Sharp features, piercing eyes. She wore the same uniform as the rest, her stance formal, yet there was something distinct about her. A presence. A sense of quiet authority.
Amelia’s pulse spiked.
It was her.
Granny Smith.
As a human.
She nearly dropped the photograph. Her fingers curled tighter around it as if confirming its reality, as if making sure this wasn’t some illusion. But it wasn’t. This was real.
“I take it ya know about the war between Equestria and Discord?” Granny asked, her voice softer now.
Amelia forced herself to nod, her throat too dry to speak.
Granny inhaled deeply, her expression shifting, old memories reflecting in her aged eyes. “Then let me tell ya somethin’, sugarcube. I wasn’t born into this world. I was brought here. Just like you.”
A chill ran down Amelia’s spine.
Granny looked at the photograph in Amelia’s hands before continuing. “I was one of many that Discord pulled from Earth. One of many he brought back to life… only to throw us into another war.”
The weight of those words settled deep in Amelia’s chest. Brought back to life? Another war? She gripped the photo tighter, unable to process what that truly meant. Wait… does she mean… thee war?
“I fought in it.” Granny said. “I watched my brothers and sisters fight in it. And when it all came to a head—when everything seemed lost—I was the one who sang that song.”
Amelia’s stomach twisted.
The song about Christmas.
The song that stopped a war for a moment.
The Match of Truce.
“The first hoofball game.” Granny continued. “That was me, too.” She let out a small, tired chuckle. “Didn’t expect it to catch on the way it did. Didn’t think it’d turn into a whole culture. A whole world of its own.”
Amelia’s head spun.
The Match of Truce was legendary. A moment in history that had changed everything.
And now, sitting right in front of her, was the pony—no, the woman—who had started it.
Granny Smith—Isabella Smith—wasn’t just a part of history.
She had made it.
Her heart pounded, her hands trembling slightly as she stared at the photograph. She wanted to say something, to react, to do something. But all she could do was sit there, stunned, her world tilting on its axis.
She had spent so long feeling alone. Feeling like a stranger in this world, the only one of her kind.
But now, staring at the proof in her hands, she realised something.
She wasn’t alone.
Not anymore.
Amelia let out a long breath, finally finding her voice as she carefully set the photograph on her lap. The weight on her chest felt different now—less suffocating, more… manageable. She had spent so long hiding, pretending, dodging questions that should have had easy answers. But now that the truth was out, there was something oddly relieving about it.
She glanced between Granny Smith and Applejack before asking the obvious.
“How did you know?”
Applejack crossed her arms, leaning back slightly with a smirk that told Amelia she had figured it out a while ago. “Few things, really. Some small, some bigger. Yer amnesia excuse never quite sat right with me—couldn’t remember anythin’, yet ya knew yer way around hoofball, knew what ya liked and didn’t like, could speak perfect Prench, and had instincts that didn’t match a filly who’d just appeared outta nowhere.”
Amelia winced. Yeah, she had been a little inconsistent with her ‘selective memory loss.’
Granny Smith, sitting nearby, tapped her cane against the wooden floor, her old but sharp eyes locking onto Amelia’s.
“Then there was the matter of yer name,” she added, her voice carrying that old wisdom that made it impossible to argue. “When Applejack told me ‘bout ya, mentioned ya called yerself Amelia? Well, that ain’t an Equestrian name. Not a lick of it. But it’s a name I have heard before—back on Earth.”
Figures. Amelia should’ve realised it too. Of course her name would stand out. She had spent so much time worrying about slipping up in her story, about making sure her lies lined up, that she hadn’t even thought about the first thing she ever told anypony.
Amelia.
She had chosen it too late.
Her real name was already out there.
As if that wasn’t enough, Applejack tilted her head slightly, her smirk softening, but her expression still serious.
“And if that weren’t enough proof,” she went on, her voice calm but firm, “there’s yer date of birth.”
Amelia blinked, caught off guard. “My… what?”
Applejack exhaled sharply through her nose, amused. “Yeah, yer birthday. The one ya gave me when I asked.”
Granny Smith chuckled, shaking her head. “Sugarcube, if ya were born in 2010 like ya claim…” She leaned forward slightly, tapping Amelia’s arm lightly with the back of her hoof. “That’d make ya over a hundred years old.”
Amelia felt her heart drop, her breath catching in her throat.
Her date of birth—the year she was born—was a century ago?
“W-What year is it?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.
Applejack raised a brow before answering. “2110.”
Silence.
Amelia’s mind reeled, trying to process that information.
She felt like she had been hit with a ton of bricks.
She wasn’t just from another world—she was from another time. She knew this thanks to Redsica’s two year bounce in her age but, she never took that inconsiderate to how that might of affected the time between Earth and Equis.
Amelia opened her mouth to argue, but Granny Smith cut in.
“Bet ya don’t even know what that’s worth, do ya?” Granny asked, her voice calm but knowing.
Amelia frowned. “Uh… it’s just three gold coins.”
Granny let out a short chuckle. “Sugarcube, them three gold bits? That’s the equivalent of three hundred dollars back on Earth.”
Amelia stared at the bits in her palm, suddenly feeling like she was holding a fortune.
Amelia rubbed the back of her neck, letting out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. “Guess I wasn’t as sneaky as I thought.”
Applejack smirked. “Not even close.”
For the first time in what felt like forever, Amelia relaxed. The tension she had been carrying around for weeks—maybe even months—seemed to loosen, just a little.
They knew.
And nothing bad had happened.
No accusations. No fear. No betrayal.
Just… understanding.
And, strangely, relief.
Amelia took a deep breath, the kind that felt like it reached into her soul and untangled every knot she’d been carrying. She looked between Applejack and Granny Smith, their expectant eyes waiting patiently, no judgment or pressure—just an unspoken invitation to be honest.
Her lips curved into a small, almost shy smile as she straightened her back.
“My name is Amelia.” she began, her voice steady but soft. “I’m from Liverpool, back on Earth. I’m… an Evertonian. Always have been. And I was a goalkeeper.”
Saying it out loud felt strange, almost surreal—but it also felt right.
Granny Smith nodded, a warm, knowing smile tugging at her lips. Applejack gave her a firm, approving nod, her eyes bright with something close to pride.
“Well then.” Granny said, her tone gentle yet purposeful, “it’s mighty nice to meetcha, Amelia.”
For the first time in a long while, Amelia felt like she wasn’t just telling the truth—she was finally herself.
After that, the conversation shifted into something lighter. It was surreal—talking so openly, so casually—like this was just a normal discussion between two humans and maybe a half-human with Applejack.
They wanted to know more about Earth. Granny Smith, especially, was curious about how much had changed since she left, since she died. Amelia found herself happy to answer, explaining as best as she could. She spoke about technology—how the world had become interconnected, how information was at every human’s fingertips with the internet, how transportation had evolved beyond what Granny could’ve ever imagined. She described towering skyscrapers, sprawling metropolises, and the advancements in medicine that could extend lives far beyond what was possible in Granny’s time.
Social progress came next. How the world had shifted, for better and worse. How cultures had blended, how people had fought for rights and equality, how even though things were still far from perfect, humanity had taken steps forward. She even touched on space exploration, how humans had sent probes beyond their own solar system, how rovers crawled across Mars, and how they dreamed of reaching even further.
Granny Smith listened with a knowing expression, nodding along. She wasn’t surprised by humanity’s progress—just proud. She always knew humans would push forward, adapt, and strive for new heights.
Then the conversation drifted into something more familiar—something both Amelia and Granny could be excited about.
Football.
They compared leagues, clubs, and players—both from Earth and Equestria. Granny Smith, having introduced the game to this world, was fascinated by how it had evolved. Amelia explained the rise of global tournaments, legendary clubs, rivalries, and the stars who became household names. They debated the differences in playstyles, the way Earth’s version had years of recorded history while Equestria’s was still shaping its own legacy.
Applejack, though more of a listener in this part of the conversation, clearly enjoyed watching them nerd out over the sport. It was like watching two generations of football fanatics connect across time.
Eventually, the conversation wound down, and Amelia knew it was time to head back.
She said her goodbyes, still feeling the warmth of understanding that had been built between them. No more lies. No more hiding. Just acceptance.
With that, she turned and started her journey home to the cottage, the weight on her shoulders feeling just a little lighter than before.
By the time Amelia reached the cottage, the morning air had cooled, leaving behind the crisp scent of damp earth and fresh greenery. The warmth of the sunrise bathed the small home in golden light, making it look even cozier than usual.
She knocked on the door, shifting her bag on her shoulder. A few seconds later, the door creaked open, revealing Rainbow Dash, still in her pajamas, a toothbrush hanging lazily from her mouth.
The pegasus groaned, squinting at Amelia like she was trying to remember how doors worked. Her mane was an absolute mess—sticking out in every direction, frizzled from what Amelia could only guess was either a rough night or just Rainbow being Rainbow.
With an unimpressed look, she muttered around the toothbrush, “Mornin’, squirt.”
The minty foam dribbled slightly from the corner of her mouth as she spoke, making the whole greeting feel extra unenthusiastic.
Amelia snorted but said nothing, stepping inside as Rainbow dragged herself back toward the bathroom, still half-asleep.
Almost immediately, Pooch came bounding toward her, his tiny wooden paws skidding against the floor as he let out an excited yap. His bark was sharp and high-pitched, his tail wagging so hard that his whole body wobbled.
He jumped up, resting his little wooden paws against her legs, his ears perked up with pure excitement. His eyes, glowing with an almost mystical hue, practically begged for attention.
“Alright, alright.” Amelia murmured, scooping him up with ease. The timberwolf pup wasn’t heavy, just sturdier than a normal dog, his barky exterior warm against her arms.
Pooch immediately rewarded her with a rough, scratchy lick across her cheek, his wooden tongue like sandpaper against her skin. Amelia winced but laughed softly, rubbing behind his ears as he whined happily, nuzzling into her.
“Where’s Fluttershy?” she asked, glancing back toward the bathroom where Rainbow was now leaning over the sink, scrubbing her face like she was trying to erase last night’s exhaustion.
Rainbow barely glanced up, waving a lazy hand. “Upstairs. Probably still in her room.”
Amelia nodded, shifting Pooch in her arms as she made her way up the stairs.
The timberwolf pup curled into her hold as they ascended, his little tail flicking occasionally, content in her embrace. Amelia pressed her lips together, exhaling through her nose as she reached the top of the steps.
Amelia knocked softly on the wooden door, shifting Pooch in her arms as she waited for a response. The little timberwolf pup let out a small whine, his tail flicking impatiently.
From the other side, Fluttershy’s voice, soft and sleepy, called out, “Come in.”
Amelia pushed the door open and stepped inside, immediately taking in the sight before her.
Fluttershy was still in bed, nestled beneath a thick, cozy blanket, her silky pink mane spilling over the pillows in loose waves. Her pyjamas—an oversized, sky-blue top with tiny clouds patterned across it—were slightly crumpled from sleep, and she looked as though she hadn’t been awake for long.
Her aqua eyes, still heavy with drowsiness, blinked slowly, adjusting to the morning light that peeked through the curtains. She rubbed one of them lazily with the back of her hand, suppressing a yawn before tilting her head toward Amelia.
Despite looking half-dead, she still managed a small, warm smile.
Amelia smirked, raising a brow. “Rough night?”
Fluttershy let out a quiet hum, her expression making it very clear that she was nowhere near ready to be functioning.
Pooch, however, had no interest in waiting. His small wooden paws twitched in excitement, and with a sudden burst of movement, he leapt from Amelia’s hold onto the bed, landing with a soft ‘plop’ right on Fluttershy’s stomach.
Fluttershy let out a small “Oof!” but giggled as Pooch immediately began nuzzling her, his bark-like tail wagging wildly. She lifted a hand, gently scratching behind his ears, making the pup melt into her touch.
Amelia took that as her cue to climb up onto the bed herself, sitting cross-legged beside Fluttershy, setting her bag down near the edge.
“So.” she started, running a hand through her messy mane, “last night was… interesting.”
Fluttershy, though still looking half-asleep, listened attentively as Amelia began recounting her evening—the rainstorm, the sleepover at Sweet Apple Acres, the Apple Crumble baking disaster, and most importantly, meeting Granny Smith.
She left out the part about herself and Granny being human—for obvious reasons.
Fluttershy’s eyes remained on her, her expression gentle as she absorbed every word, nodding occasionally. The warm, quiet atmosphere of the room made Amelia feel strangely at ease as she spoke, as if she were talking to an older sister.
However, Fluttershy’s gaze soon flickered toward Amelia’s wings, her sleepy expression shifting into mild concern.
Her delicate brows furrowed. “Amelia…” she mumbled, tilting her head slightly, “When’s the last time you preened your feathers?”
Amelia blinked. “Uh… when’s the last time I what?”
Fluttershy let out a small, tired huff. She reached forward, gently brushing her slender fingers against the edges of Amelia’s wings, making her stiffen slightly at the unexpected touch.
Amelia followed Fluttershy’s gaze and finally took a good look at her own wings. The feathers were ruffled, uneven, and in some places, slightly bent the wrong way.
Nothing she had noticed before—or cared about, honestly.
Fluttershy sighed through her nose, shaking her head softly before adjusting herself under the blanket. “Turn around.” she instructed lightly. “I’ll do it for you.”
Amelia hesitated, looking at her wings again.
This… was apparently a thing pegasi did?
She hadn’t exactly read a manual on how to be a pegasus when she got here.
Still, Fluttershy’s tone was gentle yet firm, the same way a mother might scold a foal for forgetting to comb their mane.
With a small sigh of defeat, Amelia adjusted herself on the bed, turning her back to Fluttershy and folding her legs comfortably, preparing for… whatever preening entailed.
Pooch, still curled against Fluttershy, let out a soft, content huff, as if he approved of Amelia finally taking care of her wings.
The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of feathers being gently smoothed and straightened. Amelia sat still, feeling Fluttershy’s delicate fingers glide through her wings, her touch careful and precise. There was something oddly soothing about it—something she hadn’t expected.
She let herself relax, eyes drifting half-closed as the sensation of Fluttershy’s careful work lulled her into a strange calmness. It wasn’t something she would have ever thought about before—taking care of her wings. Yet, this—this quiet, methodical attention—felt… nice. Familiar, even.
Then, without warning, Fluttershy’s voice softly broke the silence.
“What’s your dream?”
Amelia blinked, momentarily startled by the question. Her first instinct was to brush it off, to deflect it with some sarcastic remark—but instead, she answered straightforwardly, the words leaving her before she even thought about them.
“I want to be the best goalkeeper.”
Fluttershy hummed thoughtfully, her fingers still moving through Amelia’s feathers, adjusting them carefully.
“That’s ambitious.” she murmured. “There are a lot of talented goalkeepers out there.”
Amelia barely hesitated. “I don’t care about the others.” she said, her voice steady, unwavering. “I just need to focus on myself.”
Fluttershy hummed again, but this time, there was something amused in the sound, almost like a quiet laugh.
“You remind me of Rainbow Dash.” she mused, her touch never faltering. “She was the same way—never let another player distract her, no matter how hard-working or talented they were.”
Silence settled between them again, but it was a comfortable one.
Then, after a moment, Fluttershy spoke up again—her tone softer, more distant.
“When I played hoofball.” she admitted, “I didn’t dream of being the best.”
Amelia frowned slightly. She hadn’t expected that.
Fluttershy’s fingers worked through another section of her feathers, her movements slower now, almost nostalgic.
“That’s not who I was.” she continued, almost like she was speaking more to herself than to Amelia. “Instead, I dreamed that Rainbow Dash was the best. So I helped her, with every pass and every assist I gave.”
Amelia turned slightly, looking over her shoulder, her brows furrowed in surprise.
“You really played with Rainbow Dash?”
Fluttershy nodded, a small smile touching her lips.
Amelia stared at her for a moment before scoffing lightly, shaking her head.
“If you played with Rainbow Dash, then you must’ve been amazing.”
Fluttershy let out a soft, breathy chuckle, but shook her head. “I was good.” she admitted, “but I wasn’t amazing.”
Amelia huffed, crossing her arms. “Well, you must have done a good enough job.” she pointed out, her tone firm. “Because look at Rainbow now.”
Fluttershy stilled for a moment before she shook her head again, this time with something gentler, more knowing in her expression.
“She did all that by herself.” she murmured.
Amelia frowned, but didn’t argue.
Instead, she just sat there, letting the moment settle between them, feeling the warmth of Fluttershy’s presence as she continued tending to her wings with quiet, practiced care.
Fluttershy’s hands slowed, her fingers lingering against Amelia’s wings, no longer precise, but hesitant—uncertain.
She was frowning slightly, her eyes distant, as if caught in a thought she couldn’t quite grasp. Then, with a deep, tired sigh, she finished her work and, without warning, wrapped her arms around Amelia from behind.
Amelia stiffened, caught off guard by the sudden warmth, the way Fluttershy pressed her cheek lightly against her shoulder, her hold gentle yet firm, as if she was afraid to let go.
“I care about you, Aurora.” Fluttershy murmured softly, her voice gentle, but heavy with something deeper—something painful. “I admire your spirit, your dedication… but I really, really don’t want you playing hoofball.”
Amelia’s body locked up, her breath caught in her throat.
It was like a slow, crushing weight pressing into her chest, the words sinking deep, deeper than she wanted them to. She had felt it coming, had noticed the way Fluttershy always hesitated whenever hoofball was brought up. But hearing it out loud, so clearly, so certainly—it felt like a knife twisting in her ribs.
Her fingers curled into fists in her lap.
Of course.
Of course, it had to be this way.
She swallowed, staring at the blanket pooled in her lap, the warmth of Fluttershy’s embrace now feeling like a chain holding her down.
She knew what she had to do now.
She had to leave.
Not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But soon. If Fluttershy—the pony who had taken her in, given her a home, treated her like family—didn’t want her playing, then she couldn’t stay here.
She would have to find a way to sign the contract herself. Find somewhere else to live. Figure things out alone.
The thought made her chest feel tight, suffocating, but there was no other way.
Before she could sink further into her thoughts, Fluttershy moved away, breaking the silence.
Amelia barely noticed at first, still trying to process everything, until she heard the quiet creak of a drawer opening. She blinked, glancing up just as Fluttershy pulled out a folded piece of paper from her nightstand and held it out to her.
Amelia hesitated, confused, but reached out and took it, unfolding it carefully.
The second she saw what it was, her breath hitched.
Her heart stopped.
It was the contract.
Her hoofball contract.
Her eyes darted to the bottom of the page, where her guardian’s signature was required.
And there, written in elegant, flowing script, was Fluttershy’s signature.
Amelia’s head snapped up, her eyes wide, her heart hammering against her ribs.
“I…” she started, her voice barely above a whisper. “You… you signed it?”
Fluttershy nodded slowly, her expression soft, but unreadable.
“It would be wrong to stand in the way of what you love.” she said, her voice steady but carrying an edge of vulnerability. “No matter how much hoofball affected me in the past… that shouldn’t be an excuse to tell you what you can and can’t do.”
Amelia couldn’t breathe.
Her fingers tightened around the contract, gripping it like it might disappear if she let go.
This… this was real.
She had expected a fight—expected to argue, to plead, to try and convince Fluttershy to see her side. But instead, she had already given her permission.
Amelia didn’t think.
She turned around and threw her arms around Fluttershy, hugging her tightly, burying her face into her shoulder.
“Thank you.” she whispered, voice thick with emotion, her throat burning.
Fluttershy didn’t speak right away.
She simply held her, running her fingers through Amelia’s mane, calming, steady, warm.
After a long moment, she finally whispered, “Just promise me, Aurora… be careful.”
Amelia squeezed her tighter, nodding against her shoulder.
“I promise.”
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