Bivalent Connections

by equestrian.sen

6. Freedom

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across Sweet Apple Acres as Sunset Shimmer trotted along the winding path between the orchard rows, her fiery mane catching the golden light. It had been three years since her return from the mirror portal, and though she had made peace with Princess Celestia and found her place back in Equestria, there were days when a strange restlessness settled in her chest. Today was such a day—she'd spent hours studying ancient spellcraft in Twilight's library, only to find herself increasingly frustrated with the rigid formulas and precise incantations.

Sunset paused beneath an apple tree, watching its branches sway in the gentle breeze. With a flick of her horn, she lifted a fallen leaf and guided it through the air, altering the traditional levitation spell with subtle variations of her own design. The leaf danced and spiraled in patterns impossible to achieve with textbook magic alone. With a sigh, she settled onto the soft grass and opened the journal she carried—a gift from Twilight Sparkle—where she'd begun documenting her experimental spellwork, the margins filled with questions about why certain magical boundaries existed at all.

"Penny for your thoughts?" came Applejack's warm voice as she approached, carrying a basket of freshly picked apples. "You've been starin' at that journal for a good twenty minutes now."

Sunset looked up, slightly startled. "Is it that obvious?"

"Just a bit," Applejack replied with a gentle smile, setting down her basket and settling beside Sunset on the grass. "You've got that same look Twilight gets when she's puzzlin' over somethin' that don't quite fit in her books."

Sunset laughed softly. "That's surprisingly accurate. I've been thinking about magic—specifically, why we do it the way we do."

"How do you mean?" Applejack asked, selecting an apple and polishing it against her coat.

Instead of answering immediately, Sunset demonstrated by lifting several fallen apples with her magic. Rather than the typical unicorn levitation—precise and controlled—she guided the apples through a fluid, dancing pattern that seemed to follow the natural air currents.

"Standard magical training teaches specific forms and formulas," Sunset explained. "But during my time away, I discovered that magic can be much more... natural. Less constrained. It's refreshing."

Applejack watched the dancing apples with interest. "Reminds me of when I was first learnin' to buck apples," she said thoughtfully. "Big Mac showed me his technique—same stance, same kick, same everything. But I kept gettin' sore and frustrated."

"What changed?" Sunset asked, genuinely curious.

"I stopped tryin' to buck exactly like him," Applejack said simply. "My legs are different, my balance too. Once I found my own rhythm, everything changed. Now I can clear a whole orchard without gettin' tired."

Applejack stood and led Sunset toward a nearby hill overlooking a section of the orchard. There, an intricate system of pipes, levers, and small channels stretched out across the landscape.

"See that?" Applejack said with quiet pride. "My irrigation system. Took five seasons to perfect, but now it practically runs itself."

Sunset examined the ingenious network with newfound appreciation. "You designed this yourself?"

"Sure did. Used to spend half my mornings just gettin' water to the east orchard. Now that time's mine to use however I please."

Sunset looked across the orchard with newfound appreciation. "So now instead of spending all morning moving water around, you get to choose what to do with that time."

"Exactly," Applejack confirmed, adjusting a small valve that redirected water flow to a different section of trees. "Not just time neither. Used to worry myself sick every dry spell. Now I can focus on other things—helping Granny with her hip exercises, teaching Apple Bloom new harvesting techniques, even had time to mediate that property dispute between Filthy Rich and the Flower Sisters last month."

"I heard about that," Sunset said. "Everyone expected they'd have to take it to the Mayor and the town council."

"Sometimes folks just need somepony who can speak plain and listen well," Applejack said, adjusting her hat. "Took three meetings and a lot of cider, but we got 'em to see each other's side."

Sunset's eyes widened slightly. "That's remarkable, Applejack. I'm not sure I could have managed that kind of conversation."

"Course you could," Applejack replied confidently. "You just need practice. First time I tried sortin' out a neighbor dispute, I made such a mess of it that both parties ended up madder than wet hens in a thunderstorm. But you learn."

They walked back toward the apple tree where Sunset had left her journal. As they settled again in the cooling afternoon shade, Sunset found herself thinking about the young unicorns she was scheduled to teach the next day in Canterlot.

"I've been planning to take my unicorn students outside for tomorrow's lesson instead of using the practice halls," she said, sketching a quick diagram in her journal. "Princess Celestia seemed skeptical when I proposed it."

"But she didn't say no," Applejack observed with a knowing smile.

"No, she didn't," Sunset agreed. "I think the students need to see magic respond to unexpected variables—wind, light, natural movement. In the practice halls, everything is controlled, but out in the gardens..."

"They'll have to adapt," Applejack finished for her. "Just like I had to with my apple buckin', and you did with your magic."

Sunset nodded, watching as Applejack expertly sorted her harvested apples with practiced efficiency—a motion so fluid and natural it barely registered as work.

"It's funny," Sunset said after a moment. "When I was younger, all I wanted was to become an alicorn, to have the power to do whatever I wanted. I thought that was what freedom meant."

"And now?" Applejack asked.

Sunset considered the question, watching a leaf spiral down from the tree above them. With the gentlest touch of magic, she altered its descent into a graceful dance.

"Now I think it's something else entirely," she said softly. "Something more like... room to breathe."

As twilight settled over Sweet Apple Acres, Sunset closed her journal and watched the stars emerge in the darkening sky. Her horn glowed softly as she cast one final spell—an array of dancing lights that spiraled upward through the branches of the apple tree, illuminating its leaves from within. The magic felt different somehow—more like breathing than casting. With a smile, she gathered her things and rose to her hooves, her mind already racing with ideas for her morning session with the young unicorns she'd promised to mentor. Some things, after all, couldn't be learned within four walls, no matter how grand they might be.