Year One: Metal Crown, Brass Fork
Year One: Metal Crown, Brass Fork
Applejack always rose with the dawn.
Applejack swam up from the depths of her dreams at the rooster’s summon. Breaching the surface, she yawned and rose from her bed, stretching out the kinks in all four of her aching hooves. Yesterday had been a busy workday. The frosts were well on their way, king of autumn soon to be overthrown by the relentless reign of winter’s command.
Big Macintosh (and Babs Seed, to a much lesser extent) harvested the fields yesterday, freeing the last of the carrots, potatoes, and turnips imprisoned in their soil. Applejack busied herself with assisting Granny Smith in the kitchen, the elder and the younger canning the yields of their labor in preparation for the lean times to come. Apple Bloom tided up the shelves in the basement once canning had been completed—with her big sister's help, of course.
For the most part, the two foals had been spared too much hard work on their little day off from school. It was Tuesday now, however, back to the grindstone, and for two slumbering fillies, back to Cheerilee’s lesson plan.
After running a brush a few quick seconds through her mane and securing her trusty Stetson to her head, satisfied that she was more than ready to greet the day, Applejack trotted slowly to Apple Bloom and Babs Seed’s room, dodging creaking floorboards underhoof. She reached the door and pressed an ear to the oak, the sound of gentle snores—octaves away from each other—made her smile.
Two nights it had been. Two nights without nightmares from Babs, no shrieks or cries in the dark. Her sleep had been easy. Applejack sighed with relief and creaked the bedroom door open.
“Heh, heh, y’all are so cute,” she whispered. She caught herself taking a hoof-step back, unwilling to interrupt their angelic sleep. Orange and yellow foals intertwined in each other’s forehooves, lost to the world, free and wild in dreams.
Regardless, Cheerilee would be waiting, parchment and pencil in hoof. Tuesdays were school days, and Applejack had no tolerance for truants. She strode over to the bed and poked each foal in the shoulder with a rough forehoof. “Wake up, y’all. Time fer school.”
Babs Seed and Apple Bloom continued to snore.
Rolling her eyes, Applejack mumbled, “Fine. We’ll do this the hard way.” The mare grasped their blankets tight in her teeth and yanked, tugging the covers to the floor.
“Huh?! Wha?!” Little sister sat bolt upright, scanning for the source of her interruption. Catching Applejack’s narrowed gaze, Apple Bloom said with a grin, “Oh! It’s jus’ you, Applejack! Ah was worried there fer a second!”
“It’s time fer school, Apple Bloom. C’mon! Get yer cousin up, too. Ah’ll be downstairs, makin’ breakfast. Hurry up!” she called, exiting the fillies’ room in pursuit of her next morning chore.
Wiping sleep from her eyes, Apple Bloom mumbled, “Get Babs up…. right… got it.”
Babs Seed sprawled herself all over their shared bed, forehooves digging at the sheets in search of a now-absent companion. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Babs Seed snored a lazy rhythm, blowing the one strand of red-and-pink mane in front of her vision back in forth in time with her breath.
Apple Bloom leaned down and whispered into her intact right ear, “Psst! Hey! Babs! It’s time ta get up!”
“… Nngh… no...” Babs muttered, smacking her lips, snoozing still.
Groaning, the bloom played her best cards against the seed, raising her volume, muttering absurd phrases, but no success. Minutes dragged on, spent and useless.
Suddenly, a revelation graced the awakener's mind: perhaps Babs Seed was just being plain ol' lazy.
“Hey! Wait a minute! Ya can hear me, can’t ya?!” Apple Bloom snapped.
Her cousin didn’t respond, merely tugging at the bed’s fitted sheet, grasping it between her forehooves.
Apple Bloom sighed. “Ya know, you are pretty cute when ya sleep, but, if ya don’t wake up soon, Applejack’s gonna be—“
“BLOOM! BABS!”
“—Mad.”
Impatient, tapping a hindhoof on the kitchen floorboards, Applejack called up the stairs again,“C’MON, Y’ALL! BREAKFAST IS READY!”
Turning towards the door, Apple Bloom yelled, “IN A MINUTE, SIS!”
She leaned down and nudged the Babs's neck, shoulders, and ribs. Nothing. Whatever dreams that enthralled Babs Seed embraced her with an iron grasp. Apple Bloom was unable to rouse her through gentle means. That, or she was an excellent actress, of the highest Canterlot caliber. “Sheesh, Babs, Ah wish Ah could sleep this good..."
Four hooves stomped up the stairs, bellowing THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!
“Uh-oh.” Apple Bloom groaned as she caught sight of her sibling’s scowl from her peripherals. Applejack trudged right back in where she began, quick breakfast hot and ready on the table, one lazy foal still sound asleep.
Scowling, Applejack scolded, “Apple Bloom! Ah told ya ta get her up!”
“She won’t get up, Applejack!”
“Ponyfeathers! Yer jus’ bein’ too easy on her, that’s all.” Applejack nudged the snoozing foal in the ribs, poking her repeatedly. “C’mon, Babs, get up!”
“… Nngh… no…” came the response.
Gesturing wildly with her forehooves, Apple Bloom huffed, “Now do ya believe me?! She is out, Applejack! Out! Like a light!”
A freckled face met an orange hoof. “Ah don’t have time fo’ this right now! Ugh… desperate times call fer desperate measures!” Nipping its strands in between her jaws, Applejack tugged on the short red-and-pink tail, eliciting a YIP! of surprise from its owner. Babs Seed was jolted into the land of the real at last.
“'Ey! What gives?!” she grumbled, shielding her muzzle from the burning dawn. Too... damn... early...
“Rise an’ shine, sleepyhead!” Applejack taunted with a grin. “It’s time fer yer first day o’ school in Ponyville! Hurry up an’ come down here, Ah’ve got breakfast waitin’. Oh, an’ Ah need ta change yer bandages again, Babs.”
O’ course. How much longer fo’ dis thing? Babs fidgeted with her left ear, testing its temperament. The injury hissed no more, pain fading in the warm rays of the morning star. Good. Still, where the nick began to scab, new cells replacing their deceased companions, it itched and burned, seeking oxygen and relief. Yeesh. Hopefully not much longer.
Babs stretched in the rays of Celestia’s dawn, sunlight pouring in from the bedroom window. Yawning, she relented, “Okay, Applejack, jus’… give me a minute…”
“One. Minute,” Applejack warned, sharing a knowing glance with her sibling. Elder and younger Apple giggled to themselves, a confused foal merely blinking in response. The older of her two cousins departed, leaving the bloom and the seed to their own devices.
“Sorry ‘bout that, Babs. But, Ah couldn’t wake ya up!” Apple Bloom explained. “What were ya dreamin’ ‘bout, anyway?” she added teasingly, fluttering her eyelids.
“Oh, heh, heh, youze know, um, jus’, stuff,” Babs answered with a blush.
Giggling, Apple Bloom asked further, “What kinda stuff?”
“Actually, I was dreamin’ ‘bout Turner.”
“Turner?”
Jumping from the bed, working out the knots in her own muscles, Babs explained, “Youze know, the bartender. From Manehatten. The one who helped me?”
Joining her cousin on the floorboards, Apple Bloom stood in a thinking spot beyond the four walls of the Cutie Mark Crusaders clubhouse. “Oh! That’s right!” She grinned. “He’s sounds like an awesome stallion! Maybe Ah can meet him someday.”
Her stomach rumbling in its emptiness, Babs Seed strode towards the door, cousin in tow. “Dat would be pretty cool. I’m kinda disappointed dat I didn’t get ta see him ‘gain.” Babs glanced at her shoulders, anticipating the apparition of her savior’s spirit, conscience and guidance made manifest in phantasmal form.
The Turner-angel did not appear.
Maybe he'll come 'round, again. Maybe I have ta do summat first.
Apple Bloom tapped her chin with a forehoof, contemplative. They heeded Applejack’s command, trotting down the stairs, scent of warm oatmeal below quickening their pace.
As they reached the lower level of the farmhouse and pivoted towards the kitchen, Apple Bloom surmised, “Well, sometimes goodbyes ain’t fer forever, Babs. Ah’m sure ya’ll see him someday. Maybe me, too,” she added with a smile.
Grinning, Babs nodded. “I think he woulda liked youze.”
Applejack gestured to the kitchen table. “C’mon, sis, cuz, eat up. Cinnamon oatmeal. Yer favorite, Apple Bloom.”
Two foals scampered to their meal, forgetting their reluctant, morning haze. Younger sister clapped her forehooves together and bothered not with the lazy spoon next to her bowl, slurping down her breakfast. Babs Seed merely blinked.
Hmm. Not pancakes, nothin' fancy, but... it looks good. The first bite of her simple breakfast chucked all Babs's manners carelessly aside. Applejack proved to be a fine chef, rivaling Allspice with her creation. Apple pie first, and, now, oatmeal. What other tricks did she possess under her Stetson?
Sneaking behind Babs Seed, her cousin devouring her bowl down to its ceramic, Applejack began to unroll the bandages around her ear. “Almost healed, Babs,” she said. “Jus’ a few mo’ days, an’ ya should be fine.”
Staccato between greedy bites, Babs replied, “Good. It. Itches!”
“Heh heh, that’s right. That’s what new skin does. Now, jus’ sit tight an’ Ah’ll fix ya right up.”
Within a few minutes, no discomfort following her touch this time, older cousin cared for the younger’s wound, the significance of that injury not lost on her. This would be a permanent disfigurement, prompting questions and stares from many ponies in the foal’s future. Yet, it was not something to mourn. It was a blessing in a way, perhaps even in the same manner as the cutiemarks on the same hero’s flanks.
Applejack retracted from her ward and announced, “All done! Feel better?”
Finished with her absolute destruction of the breakfast bowl, Babs Seed grinned a happy grin. “Much betta! I didn’t feel anythin’!”
A forehoof ruffled a short mane. “That’s what Ah like ta hear! Now, befo’ ya girls take off, Ah have a surprise fer ya, Babs. Close yer eyes.” Apple Bloom met her sister’s gaze, stifling a gleeful giggle, privy to the secret.
A surprise?! But it isn't Hearth's Warming Eve yet... “Okay, Applejack,” Babs complied, burying her muzzle in her forehooves.
She waited, then waited, then waited some more, two ponies poorly hiding their humor, hooves trotting away and then towards her. Unsure of her own expectation, Babs hemmed and hawed within her consciousness, wondering. Maybe it's summat from Manehatten! Maybe Ma, Da', o' Citrus wrote me already...
Somewhere behind her, Applejack said, “Okay, you can open yer eyes now.”
Complying, Babs Seed couldn't suppress a gasp.
There, on the kitchen table, was the crimson Cutie Mark Crusaders cape, awaiting its bearer, expectant. Clean, no red stains other than those of its original fabric. Her most prized possession.
“Ah know it got a lil’… mangled… a few nights ago, so Ah thought Ah’d clean it up fer ya.” Applejack beamed proudly, wrapping a forehoof around the brave little filly. “It’s the least Ah could do, Babs," she soothed, embracing the hero at her hooves.
Nuzzling the mare’s chest, blinking away tears of joy, Babs Seed muttered, “Thank youze, Applejack.”
Apple Bloom joined their hug, completing the circle. The foals would have to canter to the town schoolhouse, a mere trot unable to bridge their lost time, but it would be worth it. Truancy was a charge all would gladly accept, if it were due to this delay.
Soon, Applejack proudly waved a forehoof after two rushing fillies, eager hooves kicking up a cloud of dust in their wake, the first of many wonderful school days beckoning impatiently.
~
A cold gust of wind caressed Ponyville’s morning mist, whispering of winter’s approach. Hearth’s Warming Eve justified the final season's arrival, the holiday of holidays only six weeks away. Through the sleepy town and towards the schoolhouse cantered Babs Seed and Apple Bloom, exchanging excitement for Babs's first day in Cherilee’s classroom. They continued in their haste, ticking of the clock threatening them with delinquency.
“Don’t worry, Babs,” Apple Bloom said. “Miss Cheerilee is jus’ gonna love havin’ ya here, Ah know it!”
Babs asked, “Youze really think so, Apple Bloom?”
“O’ course! Why wouldn’t she? An’ all the other foals, too. Big city filly wit’ the best cutiemark ever?” Giggling, Apple Bloom nudged her playfully, nearly pushing her into a pegasus colt trotting alongside them. “Oops! Sorry, Featherweight!”
Featherweight shrugged and merely continued in his journey. Behind them, eight eager hooves galloped on their path, a pegasus and unicorn meeting them with glee.
“Hey Babs! Hey Bloom!” Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo greeted in unison.
“Good mornin’, Sweetie, Scoots. Ready fo’ ma first day o’ school, too?”
“You bet!” Scootaloo chipped, fluttering her wings with excitement. “I can’t wait to see the look on Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon’s faces when they see you here, Babs!”
Concerned, Babs Seed asked, “Dey have been leavin’ youze alone still, right? All o’ youze?”
Sweetie rolled her eyes. “More than that. They’ve actually been kind of nice.” Dodging a quizzical look from the others, Sweetie clarified, “Okay, okay, I guess they haven’t been nice. They haven't said anything, yet, but... they haven’t been mean, either.”
“Hmm. Well, I guess dat works. But if dey do start up,” Babs warned, “I’ll jus’ have ta show ‘em how we take care o’ things, Manehatten style!”
Ringing of the school bell dismissing their idle chat, the four fillies continued to their destination, saddlebags filled with parchment, texts, quills and ink pounding against their backs. Up the stairs they trotted, then broke into a gallop and aimed towards Miss Cheerilee’s classroom. Thankfully, they calculated the sands in their hourglass precisely, beating the final warning bell and slipping inside the classroom door.
A burgundy mare with a pink two-tone mane stood beside her desk, shaking her muzzle in disapproval. “Girls! You were almost late! No more chit-chat next time!”
“Sorry, Miss Cheerliee…” three apologized weakly. The fourth scanned her new classroom.
Cheerilee’s class was far smaller in student size than Manehatten, barely half as full as a typical classroom in the heart of the city. She recognized two scowling fillies in the front row—“Metal Crown" and "Brass Fork," as Citrus Blossom renamed them. Their maws fell agape when their wretched eyes discovered her. The other students followed suit, staring at the newcomer, skepticism surpassing that of Canterlot's finest scientists.
“And who might you be, little filly? Are you visiting?” Cheerilee asked with a kind smile towards her stranger.
“I’m Babs Seed! Nice ta meet youze, Cheerilee,” she said, thick accent igniting a wave of murmurs amongst her newfound classmates. What, youze neva heard Manehatten words befo’? She offered a forehoof to the mare, who gladly accepted the formality, shaking hooves.
“Very nice to meet you too, Babs. Are you a new student? I don’t believe I’ve met your parents.”
Before an excuse could be summoned from the depths of her nimble thoughts, Apple Bloom explained proudly, “Yes, she is a new student, Miss Cheerilee! She's ma cousin, an' she jus’ moved ta Ponyville, an’ she’s gonna be learnin’ wit’ us!”
“Oh, that explains everything, Apple Bloom! But, I am a little concerned that Applejack didn’t tell me about this yesterday. In fact, nopony came yesterday for your conference…”
“We were busy wit’ harvestin’ time,” Apple Bloom deflected, thanking the Most High that neither her siblings nor grandmother attended one of the teacher’s infamous “guardian-teacher meetings." Both Sweetie and Scoots flinched at the word conference, their own scoldings coming to mind. Crusading would be briefly disregarded (at least for a few torturous weeks) in the opposition of new chores and extra-repentant study sessions.
Shrugging, Cheerilee dropped the subject, though she scrolled deep upon her own mental parchment to pay Sweet Apple Acres a special visit when her student least expected it. Three elder farmers were obliged to know just how bright their littlest laborer was. Praise would come in time. “Ah, that explains it. Well, class, let’s all welcome our new student, Babs Seed!” cheered the teacher, gesturing to her.
Clopping of a room full of forehooves rose to a crescendo, sending a blush and proud grin blaring across Babs Seed's countenance. She scraped the floorboards in her gentle embarrassment, smile returning the sea of all (minus two) before her. Welcomed into the fold, Babs Seed chose a seat in the back row, in between Scootaloo and Apple Bloom.
The stern mare at the front of the classroom steadied a piece of chalk between her forehooves and began to scrawl the day’s lesson upon the chalkboard with looping letters. “Alright, my little ponies!” she began, commanding attention. “Today, we shall be discussing the basic foundations of biology. Biology is the study of living things, like plants, animals, and, yes, even ponies like yourselves. Let us start with the origin of life. Canterlot scientists have theorized that, billions of years ago, long before Equestria, the Earth was…”
Filling an entire leaf of parchment with hasty notes, her new instructor droning on and on about abiogenesis and the basic components of a unicellular organism, Babs Seed barely noticed the parchment dropped on her desk. The student in front of her tossed her a nudge at the creased piece of paper, left to wilt on the corner of Babs Seed's desk.
First checking to ensure that Cheerilee was occupied fully by her own wild gesticulations—“Now, I don’t think your parents would like me talking about this, but I think it's fine, class!”—Babs unfolded the message.
In deliberate, careful hoofwriting, the note read:
“What are you doing here in this loser town? You’re too good for this city. My father knows your father. Orange Enterprises, right?
—Diamond Tiara”
Babs Seed sought and found the offender: a pink filly acting nonchalant a few desks ahead of her. Scowling, she scribbled back a reply to Metal Crown. The pen trembled in her forehooves, ink threatening to stain oak and parchment as she replied:
“That’s not your business. Any of it. Stay away from my friends or I’ll show you how ‘big-city’ I am.”
No need ta sign it. Youze know who I am.
A tapping of a forehoof sent the note barreling back towards its sender. Ahead, Crown read the reply over and over, incredulous. There would be no unity from their family ties. Failing to ignore a second crumpled sheet of parchment, Babs verified once more that Cheerilee was oblivious before opening the latest note.
The letters were quite differently penned—delicate, yet devoid of exaggeration or fanfare—akin to the imprints of sparrows' talon in fresh mud:
“I told you it would be okay.”
~
One lengthy debate later, foals questioning teacher in all of her scientific ignorance, the biology lesson ceased for recess. A gaggle of fillies and colts rushed to the playground, some leaping upon the swing-sets and play-structures, others revealing smuggled cards or dice for quick games of Fate and choice. Still others drummed up hoof-ball teams, squaring off in contests of speed and precision, nimble hooves and acute angles.
What it lacked in perimeter and area, Ponyville's playground more than sufficed in atmosphere, and here, connected to the dew-kissed grass and the source of her strength, Babs Seed couldn’t help but smile. It’s nice not ta be worried ‘bout bullies anymo'.
The Cutie Mark Crusaders trotted into the crisp afternoon and onto a vacant hoof-ball field, mercury dipping and stealing their breath, transforming fur into reptilian scales. “Look! I’m Spike!” Sweetie Belle squealed, creating a cloud of steam. Hoisting her forehooves in mimic of menacing claws, the unicorn growled, “I’m a big, scary dragon! Rawr!”
Three others stumbled in a torrent of laughter. “Aw, Sweetie Belle, Spike ain’t no big, scary dragon! He’s harmless!” Apple Bloom cackled, steadying herself on her hooves.
“Youze all have dragons ‘round heeya, too?” Babs asked.
Her cousin nodded. “But he’s real nice. Everypony ‘round here is. You have a lot o’ meetin’ ta do, Babs. Ah’ll have ta show ya ‘round town sometime!” Two other fillies chimed their agreement.
Excitedly, three Crusaders wove majestic tales to their newest counterpart, four foals huddled in a circle of reminiscence. From their very founding, drawn together by a sneering filly’s cute-cenera and a shared difference, to their latest crusades in Babs Seed's absence, they shared it all. Babs Seed listened intently laughing when appropriate, swept up in the forehooves of a past she’d never been privy to know.
“Oh! And there was this one time that Apple Bloom made a potion and—“
“Sweetie Belle!!” A forehoof silenced Sweetie's muzzle, its owner turning to Babs Seed, fumbling, “Uh, Ah’ll tell ya ‘bout that one later. Heh..."
Before Babs could inquire further—Potion? Dis place jus’ gets stranga!—the sound of chalk squealing its misery against a black writing surface sent waves of pain proliferating through both her ears. The injured one suffered the most, throbbing at the noise.
“Hello, Babs,” squealed the chalk. Its name was Metal Crown.
Beside Metal Crown, Brass Fork chipped, “Yes, hello there, Miss Manehatten. Nice cutiemark, by the way.”
Four sets of irises spun to face their visitors. One of them, emeralds shining through the mist, narrowed their lids, unafraid. Youze are nothin’ compared ta a true city an' its demons. Bring it on. “What do youze want?!” Babs Seed challenged. Strength pulsed through her hooves, wrought by virtue of her own magic, adrenaline a stimulant and weapon in her veins.
“Oh, we want no trouble with you, Miss Manehatten,” Crown mocked. She gestured with a wide forehoof to the three blank-flanked foals before her, their muzzles angry and confused. “But why are you still with these losers? You have your cutiemark now. Come on, join us. We’ll give you a second chance.”
Brass whined to her best (and only) friend and de-facto leader, “But, Diamond Tiara, it took almost this entire week to get all of the mud out of your—“
“Not now, Silver Spoon!”
Standing firm, Babs Seed trotted one powerful step forward and hissed, “Neva. Neva would I betray ma own friends ta stand aside the likes o’ youze. It’s ponies like youze dat I won’t miss, bits an’ marks mean all ta youze, huh?!” She inched closer, steam of her nostrils creating a powerful, hissing smoke.
Metal Crown countered with hoof-steps of her own, unwavering. “So what if that’s true? What would the orange tycoon’s daughter know about bits and marks, other than, oh, I dunno, everything?!” she huffed.
Brass Fork friend did not falter, planting her hooves beside her and staring down their adversary. Brass threw in an insult of her own, braying, "You're not any better than us, Babs!"
Fire within threatening to unleash a blaze of fury onto the playground, Babs Seed clenched every muscle. She held back against her primal instincts; she did not resort to violence. After all, a colt older, stronger, and bigger than Crown knew more than anypony the extent of her ability. Crown was a nuisance and a bully, but not a beast. Not yet.
Knowing that jabs about mothers and bad attitudes wouldn’t suffice, Babs rolled her dice on a new tactic. She asked, “So, who's youze bully, Diamond Tiara? Huh? Who hurt youze so much youze have ta act like dis?"
The three Cutie Mark Crusaders, silent already, devolved to a new level of mute. Brass Fork looked to her metallic counterpart. That counterpart became as unmoving as her namesake, a mere object at Babs Seed’s mercy. Thought so.
“Youze see, I know what dat’s like. But dat’s no excuse ta be treatin’ anypony the way youze do ta dem. I did dat befo’, but I don’t do it now. I’m betta than dat.” Surprising herself, Babs added, “Maybe someday youze can be, too. Maybe. But, fo’ now, leave me an’ ma friends alone.”
Metal Crown and Brass Fork remained steadfast. Then, with a sudden flick of her tail and the spinning of her hooves, one filly of rich heritage dismissed another, her muzzle emotionless in her retreat. Her only friend and assistant sidled alongside her, muttering comfort, only to be disregarded again. “Not now, Silver Spoon!"
Triumphant, blowing a strand of red-and-pink mane away from her eyes, Babs Seed returned to her friends and remarked with a wink, “Iffa dey come back ‘gain… jus’ leave ‘em ta me, okay?”
The recess bell, sounding its siren call on the first day of her new school, couldn’t outshine three exclamations of joy and affirmation. Nor could it silence the grumbling of another foal in her own scheming.
~
Under the glow of the parish lantern, Apple Bloom weaved her private tale, a cutie pox and a stolen potion her recounted transgressions. Imagery of a stern, suspicious zebra, the most ridiculous of tasks performed by phantoms in her hooves, and the relief of being a blankflank once more danced before two sets of pupils.
Babs Seed laughed. “So… youze had ta eat a whole flower, huh? Did it… taste good? Ke..ke…kekeke!” Unsuccessfully holding back her most embarrassing breed of laughter—a combination of a snort and a giggle—Babs threw back her mane, nearly crying from the sure ridiculousness of it all.
Smacking her playfully on the shoulder, Apple Bloom said, “Ya know, it sure beat havin’ ta do a bunch o' things at once! Be blank any day over that! It’s... how does Sweetie Belle say it? Ironic.”
“’Ironic,’ huh? Sweetie Belle sure is smart.”
“When she wants ta be, Babs.”
Staring up at Apple Bloom’s ceiling—no, at her ceiling, their ceiling—Babs Seed replied, “Well, dat’s true fo’ everypony, I think.” Leaning over to catch her attention, she whispered, “I hope it is.”
“Why? What are ya worryin’ ‘bout, silly filly?”
Babs Seed sighed. “I jus’… I jus' miss Ma an’ Citrus. An’ Da’, too.” I wonda how Ma an’ Da’ reacted ta Citrus lettin’ me come heeya… I hope she’s okay. I hope she's... happy.
Apple Bloom embraced her in the dark. “If ya need ta talk, Ah’m here ta listen, Babs. Always.”
“I know youze are,” came the reply, returning the gesture. “I guess I should jus’ be patient. Hearth’s Warming is comin’ up soon, less than two months. Maybe dey’ll come an’ visit.”
Apple Bloom soothed, “Ah’m sure they will.” Drawing the covers over the both of them, nuzzling her savior, she whispered with a smile, “Don’t worry. Nopony could forget somepony like you.”
In the dark, crimson could hide, but the brilliance of Babs Seed's smile could not.
Outside, the alicorn of the night alighted upon her atmosphere with violet wings, warden of dreams chasing her summons. However, neither of the fillies on the second story of Sweet Apple Acres’ farmhouse required her assistance.
Bullies vanquished, demons conquered, they were safe and sound on this Tuesday night. Metal Crown and Brass Fork seemed to heed the words of the fourth Crusader... for now. If they dared to disobey, and raise hooves or more pointed words, the nick in the foal's ear proved she would stand firm, and strong, and victorious.
The walls soon dissolved and called them both into the comforting black. In dreams, bloom and seed galloped, free and wild, into the horizon. Apples met Oranges there, beyond the stars.
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Cute. Dawwwww!
\
Update: Also, FIRST!!!
I LIKE IT!
MOAR!
Still I have a feeling that on a certain holidays Babs is going to be disappointed.
I have no comment. so how about a 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
also Applebloom is mad at Babs for some reason.
t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSZN9RzqwbCSxX77PKcrR9hsh_yrTeU_5CR1YX6jAcwdituBWUZow
We're not too different, you and I.
With all are similarities,
You'd be surprised.
What do I mean? Well, lets see:
Are fathers are
Practically kings,
I guess that makes us royal, in a way.
Except you stayed with the crown.
I ran away.
And somehow, I see,
You've been hurt too,
You've suffered just like me,
I feel we are the same soul,
In two bodies.
The mirror of one foal
Oh yes, are pasts are almost the same.
The very same road
In life's twisted game.
You're a lot like me, this is true,
But I hope I don't end up
anything like you.
2003105 2003336 2003337
Thanks guys!
Cold_Spike, we'll just have to see, I suppose...
2004595 2004610
Lawl. Apple Bloom does look kind of mad at Babs in that pic.
Love the Apple Family Reunion pic!
2005464
s3.amazonaws.com/kym-assets/photos/images/original/000/132/581/130722158329.jpg?1307742085
2005558 thanks
. I'm really happy with this poem, I feel like its probably one of the best I've made so far.
2005768 fantastic poem! Very impressive, I hate to say it but I can't help but admit that you've always made the better poems.
Ohhh I see going south quickly... the second I read that Diamond Tiara's father was friends with Madhoof..... yeah that I do not see going well at all
Excellent as always muh friend.
2005983 I try to put emotion in my poems, but you seem to have a better way with words.
As for spelling errors, well, I try to write these poems before they escape me, and I usually don't have my computer at my disposal...
....I am forced to use my phone.
Let it be known poems should never be written on one.
2005768 2006093
Philosopher, in spite of you typing on your phone, I thoroughly enjoy your poems. Though, I do agree, they aren't the best mediums for poetry.
Wayword, you also deserve a clapping gif for your poem:
i0.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/original/000/132/573/15968-animated-artist-mihaaaa-clapping-clopplauding-gif-Octavia-reaction_image-reaction_ponies.gif
You two have your own unique styles, but I enjoy them all the same.
It definitely is a delight reading them in the comments!
2006014
Thanks, Drizzle!
Indeed, Filthy Rich knowing Bernie Madhoof is not a good thought... 
2006154
Will do, my friend!
2006139 yeah.... Rhyming poetry never was my speciality.... I always felt like whenever I try to make it rhyme my poems would go from colorful to *ahem* Dr. Seuss. Not fun.
D'aaw! Babs got her Crusader cloak back, all cleaned up! That was sweet.
my, my this is feeling very good on my feels. keep it up and never look back (unless you're checking for contradictions.)
So, yeah. I've read it, and I liked it, and I'll read the rest of it, but still... Did this really need a sequel?
Ah well. At least it's nice seeing Babs going about her life after all that crap happened to her. She really has changed for the better, and if nothing else, I like the way this story is highlighting that fact really well. I'd actually kinda like to see Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon flushed into slightly more full characters now. Something you hinted at this chapter.
2006884
2008469
Glad you're enjoying it, my friend!
2007006 2009649
It sounds strange, but the only comparison I can think of to illustrate my point regarding the sequel(s) is Dean Koontz's book, "Odd Thomas". (It's a great book if you are into supernatural thrillers, by the way.) I'm not in no way or shape comparing my stories to his of course, but here is what I mean. "Odd Thomas" stands on its own, yet it has two sequels to it as well ("Forever Odd" and "Brother Odd" for anyone interested). Technically, Koontz's protagonist's story can end at the first book...or the reader can follow him into the second and/or third. That's what I intend to do here. You can leave Babs at Chapter 24, or the Epilogue, or follow her into this sequel and/or the next one to come.
I had inspiration for a lot of side-stories following TR, so I decided to compile them into this sequel and anthology, rather than publishing them as individual stories.
y1fellas, I'm glad you are enjoying this so far. We'll have to see what becomes of Metal Crown and Rusty Fork. 
2011519
It's not that I have anything in particular against sequels, but to me in this case the story felt completed. I just don't see the need for more of it, and I was actually really interested to see what you did next. You're obviously a good writer, and I was kinda hoping I'd get to see how you'd handle yourself in a different genre or tone for your next story.
For me, it's like how Theycallmejub keeps doing spin offs to Eyes Without A Face (A great story if you can enjoy grimdark and raging insanity. If you don't have the stomach for that sort of thing though, give it a miss. It's like the darkest thing on this site) or reusing idea's from that story. Sure, I like that fic a lot, but isn't it time to show me something else? Yeah, you can do noir really well, but what else you got?
That's kinda how I feel here. Sure, you wrote Babs heaps well, and the drama, poetic prose and tension from tangled roots all worked great, but... got anything new? Do you have any plans to surpass yourself or try something new? Or are you kinda just happy with what you've got?
Whatever. That's just my view. I'm the sort of writer who has enough trouble finishing the one story, before I move onto the next 'big idea' (see 'shiny object') that catches my attention. I always had trouble understanding authors that kept sticking around for sequels and spin offs when there's so many new shiny things they can bring to the table.
2011610
Ahh, I think I understand your perspective now. (Forgive me if I mix something up here.) No, I definitely want to try different genres, characters, ideas, etc. I particularly want to try writing something with the Mane Six, some comedy/crossover fics, etc. Trust me, I'm not *just* going to write this Babs Seed alternate universe/timeline into eternity. I want to write this story and its third installment, and let it be once those are done. (There will be two extra one-shot stories accompanying this series also, but those are entirely optional and just me trying my hand at something different.) She may be best pony in my eyes, but there's a whole show full of characters I love I can write about (not to mention OC's of course).
I am happy with Tangled Roots in the sense that, "Holy crap, I actually wrote a story all the way to the end and I learned a lot about myself from writing it." I'm not happy in the sense that that's all I want to write or be known for. I do have a list of ideas that I want to examine once I am finished with Anthology and the final story--those are much more light-hearted so far. Noir is great, but there are a lot more styles I'd like to try.
2011660
It's funny, I actually really liked Babs when I saw that episode, but for some reason there just aren't a lot of Babs fics. I mean, this and Tangled Roota are the only ones I've read that I think are actually good, which I think is a shame because I really want to see more good Babs Seed fics. That's also part of my motivation in wanting to write a Babs fic of my own, just wanting to populate the site with some more of them.
Also, OC stories have a well deserved reputation for being terrible, but a lot of people forget how great some of them can be. Fallout Equestria is a downright classic of this fandom, and everyone forgets that the moment they see that little blue tag. Not entirely relevant, but just a little rant I felt like making.
Anyway, glad to hear you plan on writing other fics in the future. Comedy/Cross over fics weren't exactly what I was expecting, but a step in the right direction is always a good one. I'm kinda more looking forward to your next big 'serious' story, whatever that story may be.
Also, there's no reason not to use Babs again, just maybe a different sort of Babs. She's a minor character in the show, so there's a lot of room for interpretation. I know it sounds against the grain of my previous comment, but honestly you can use the same character and have them be completely different if you want. Here you have her portrayed as bigger and stronger, because in the show she is bigger, but someone could just as easily make the interpretation that she has issues with her weight. Or, maybe she has a rough Manehattan accent because she comes from one of the rougher parts of Manehattan, rather than just that being a blanket voice for everyone in that city. I know in the show they portrayed the upper crust of Manehattan with a much fancier accent. You say that that's been put on, but if I were to write it, I could easily turn it into a class wars thing. That's why I like writing the background and minor characters so much more than I like writing the mane six, there's a lot more wiggle room and space for interpretation. Anyway, the point is there's no reason not to use Babs again, just saying you don't have to use her the same way.
2011792
You know, I've seen a few good Babs fics on this site, but they were mostly one-shots. If you do write a Babs Seed fic, I will definitely have to catch it out. I also want more fics about my fav pony.
Thanks! I'm sure I'll write a serious story again, and hopefully you'll enjoy whatever I come up with.
That's very true. There are a lot of ways to interpret the minor/supporting characters, including Babs. I just meant, from my own perspective, I'd like to try writing other characters once this series is completed. Challenging myself and whatnot. Those ways you listened to interpret the fourth Crusader are very interesting, and I hope someone (maybe you?) explores those ideas at some point.
2011884
Uh... not really. The accent one was something I was planning on using, but the overweight one was just made up on the spot to prove my point. My idea is about an adult Babs dealing with some scary dark magic stuff that's way above the paygrade of a Manehattan P.D. detective. And that's pretty much all I'm willing to give away at this point. Look for it in coming months if that last sentence intrigues you at all. There will be shipping!
Oh, you just know how to hook me, don't you?
The adult Babs dealing with black magic stuff just makes it that much better! 
I will definitely keep an eye out for it. I must follow you now!
2012000
I'll admit I took a look at your user page, and deduced with my incredible detective skills that may just be one particular area you have a soft spot for.
Shipping is the industry that keeps this fandom booming! Long live Octyscratch, Fluttermac, BraeburnStrongheart, Appldash, Rarijack, Flutterdash, Twilestia, BraeburnSoarin, Raridash and every other pairing any writer can manage to pull off. I never thought I'd say Trixie Gilda can be adorable, or someone could seriously make Vinyl Trixie work. But someone did, and I loved it. So in other words, 'omfgshipping4lyf'. I mean, there's a slightly questionable prevalence of lesbian pairings over guy on guy, or just straight pairings, but whatever. If it works, it works.
Anyway, thanks for the watch.
2012087
I agree...if it works, it works, and I will enjoy it! Me, even though I have my own personal preferences, I'll read any good ship, regardless of gender. Now I gotta find a Gilda/Trixie fic...I'm intrigued...
You're welcome!
2012108
Hey, a reader is a reader, is a reader is a reader. Dignity ain't got nothing to do with it. If I can think of a way to get one, I'll get one.
Gilda Trixie isn't very common, but I've read a couple of good ones. Deuces Wild is worthy of note, it's cute but not brilliant. Also, I must confess I've co-written a Trixie/Gilda story, and I think it turned out pretty well. The shipping only starts at chapter ten though, but the story is written to completion and updating weekly. And if you read the comments you'll have the added pleasure of seeing two grown men bicker like children. Yes, I am self promoting. No, I am not ashamed of myself. A reader is a reader is a reader.
2012220
A reader is a reader, this is very true. Thanks for both of the links...I'll have to check those stories out.
I LOVE your writing style. I can't really pinpoint it exactly, but it tickles my fancy in various places.
The one thing that I CAN pick out is your refraining from using names too often. But even more, the use of phrases like "bobtail filly" AS a name, rather than a descriptive phrase, really makes it unique and powerful. It sort of gives your work a slight feel of a Greek epic, for similar reasons.
I look forward to more.
1. Love seeing some of the reoccurring people in the comments (especially the poets)
2. Ah yes of course Diamond Tiara is also getting bullied. Well, actually I'm gonna say (hazard a guess more like) that she gets little to no attention at home from her parents and acts out at school for it instead and Silver Spoon truly is her only friend because she's the only one who knows... anywho,really enjoying this sequel so far.
opa manehatten style!
I LIKE IT!
Babs is just like me every morning. Yes Babs is settling in quite nicely.
Oh Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon.
Metal Crown and Brass Fork. That's probably the nicest thing you can call them. I nicknamed them Tweedle B and Tweedle C@%t in my review of "Flight to the Finish".
Babs has hearts as strong as horses!
Wherever that mud was, she deserves it!
Considering some of the stuff that happened in the last story I'd be a bit nervous if I was Metal Crown and Brass Fork.