When you have so little, and another has so much, it’s easy to justify theft. The more precious the commodity, the easier it is to tell yourself you need it more than they do. And what is more precious than time?
When you have so little, and another has so much, it’s easy to justify theft. The more precious the commodity, the easier it is to tell yourself you need it more than they do. And what is more precious than time?
The front door of the Golden Oaks Library swung open, letting the light from the setting sun spill inside. It moved quietly, on well-oiled hinges, and for a moment, the candle carved into its outside face caught the sunlight such that its flame seemed to shine. Applejack’s hoof wavered in the air, where it had pushed on the handle. After a moment, Applejack lowered it, though she did not go inside. She wasn’t sure why she had expected the door to be locked. Perhaps, she briefly thought, it was simple optimism—a locked door might have served as a pretext to leave.
“Hello?” she called out, but there was no answer. She leaned her head forward and looked around, and after a moment, took a hesitant step into the doorway. The library looked just as she remembered it, with its oddly shaped shelves and windows and little nooks in the wall for reading. She stopped there for a moment, to consider all the changes that had occurred over the last two years. There were doors between the main room and living spaces now, so that the library could be made more open to the public. There were more tables, a book drop in one of the inner doors, and a rolling cart in the corner dedicated to foals’ books.
The main table in the center was still there, though the pegasus bust that had once decorated it had been replaced by a carving of Princess Luna. At the moment, it held a small book, a pen, and a sign made from folded paper, on which were written big, friendly characters. “Hello!” the sign read. “I will be in Canterlot on royal business until Friday. After-school classes are canceled until I return, but feel free to use the library in the meantime. Be neat, and if you check anything out, please note it in the log next to the sign. I would really appreciate it if you could be respectful of the library, and also, if you aren’t, I’ll vaporize you with my princess powers.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Applejack’s face as she read the note, but it didn’t extend to the rest of her face. If anything, it made the lines there show more—the crease along her temple, the tired sag under her eyes. The bottom of the page was dedicated to a lighthearted cartoon of a pony with a book-theft cutie mark being sucked into a vortex and letting out a comic “Oh noooo!” as he vanished. Applejack opened the log and found it full, every page covered in scribbles and the margins filled as well. That made her glance at the book drop, and on a second inspection, she found it so full that it was jammed, books left in neat stacks beside it.
Applejack let out a quiet breath, and after a few moments’ contemplation, decided that seemed as good a place to start as any.
She retrieved the spare key from behind the main shelf and opened the door to the back of the library, an avalanche of books spilling out around her hooves. After taking a moment to consider the pile, she made her way to the basement, and from there retrieved a number of boxes. She didn’t know how a proper library organized its collection, but decided that boxing them up was probably sufficient for now.
The main room of the library went quickly enough—she put away the new books and the rolling shelf, returned the extra tables to the basement, and replaced the statue of Luna with the old pegasus bust. She did the kitchen next, throwing away all the food that had gone bad and boxing up all the new, fancy cutlery. Not much of the old stuff was left, but she decided she could bring some things by from the farm later.
The other common rooms of the library went quickly. The den was pretty much the same. The basement looked totally different, but Applejack didn’t feel it would be a good idea for her to tamper with equipment she didn’t understand, and so she left it be. She entered the bedroom last of all, a strange sense of foreboding making her limbs go stiff—but it was the same room it always was, bright and friendly, full of flowering plants and reference guides and Twilight’s private book collection. It had a lower area with shelves and a desk, and a higher loft that held the bed, accessible by a long stair that twisted around the edge of the room.
Applejack knew that a lot had changed here, but she hesitated in the doorway. She didn’t clearly remember what was new and what was old, and beyond that, the room felt like a private space—like she was intruding simply by being here. It made her skin crawl—left her a constant need to look over her shoulder, as though Twilight might jump out at any moment. After a moment though, she forced herself to walk into the room, slowly looking over the items inside.
The books, she was sure, were old. Some of the volumes might be new, but Twilight had always kept a few references here. The glass cabinet full of little mechanical devices was new—too modern a thing compared to the old, classical decorations. The telescope belonged here, even if its position had changed. The phonograph she was less certain about—it seemed familiar, but she was sure that it had not always had its prominent position by the head of the bed.
It was the dresser that gave her the most trouble, covered in pictures and little personal items. Some of the photographs were clearly old—Twilight and Shining Armor as foals, or her and her parents. Others were clearly new, like the photo of the six of them in Saddle Arabia, all posing in front of the Great White Palace. Most of them, though, she could not place. Which one of their trips to Canterlot had that picture of them and the Princess come from? Or the one with her and Twilight at Sweet Apple Acres?
One picture caught her attention particularly, and she picked it up from where it rested. She knew exactly when this one was taken, shot by Pinkie Pie in a moment of ambush photography. It showed Twilight and Rainbow Dash, curled up together by the watering hole. They’d been asleep, tucked in against each other in a moment too perfect for Pinkie Pie to resist. The picture made it seem so peaceful and delicate, but Applejack remembered them stumbling away from the flash, rapidly disentangling themselves and swearing they’d just nodded off. Rainbow Dash had been so embarrassed she couldn't look Applejack in the eye for a week.
As Applejack stared at the picture, she neither smiled nor frowned, her expression flat. That was wrong, she supposed—there were so many feelings that picture should have evoked. None of them would come to her however, leaving her with a strange dull sensation, and a sense of hollowness.
Behind her, Applejack heard a distinctive bang—the library window crashing open. Quickly, she turned in place, holding the picture flat against her chest. Rainbow Dash was there, standing in the open window frame above the bed, her face tight and strained. “Hey there, RD,” Applejack said, trying to keep her voice casual and quickly realizing she was not succeeding. “Didn’t think you’d be here today.”
“I’m here to get my stuff. What are you doing here?” Rainbow Dash demanded, sharp and abrasive. She leaned forward, wings spread slightly to her side as tight expression quickly turned into an open frown and then into a glare.
“Ah’m jus’... cleanin’ up. I thought it would be better if things were just the way Twilight left ’em. You know—so she don’t feel like a stranger,” Applejack said, trying to lift the mood with a positive tone and a smile. Rainbow Dash showed no response, continuing to glare into the silence. “This is all gonna be hard enough on her as it is.”
“Yeah, sure,” Rainbow Dash answered sharply, turning without another word to go rummage through the closet. She soon found her saddlebags, haphazardly stuffing loose items into them. Applejack said nothing, but she bit her lower lip and discreetly looked down at the picture before putting it back on the dresser.
“So, uh... how you holdin’ up?” Applejack finally spoke, after what felt to her like an eternity. Rainbow Dash did not turn around, continuing her task. If she showed any reaction, it was to pick up her pace, grabbing items by the heap and shoving them into her pack. They were mostly little things, though Applejack winced when she saw Rainbow’s gala dress get jammed in like it was a pile of rags. “Not great then, I take it.”
“I’m fine,” Rainbow Dash snapped, apparently done, moving to clasp her saddlebags closed. Applejack wasn’t sure if she was leaving early to avoid the conversation, or if all of Rainbow Dash’s possessions could fit into one set of saddlebags—she traveled light enough that both seemed likely.
“Now, Ah know that ain't true,” Applejack said, stepping up towards Rainbow Dash. She didn’t reply, closing her saddlebag’s second clasp and taking off, hovering over the floor. “This has been a real shock fer all of us, Rainbow. Ya don’t need to deal with it on your own. Why don’t we—”
Rainbow Dash turned in the air and lashed out with her hind legs, delivering a powerful kick to the cabinet behind her. The blow hit the case’s wooden sides, smashing them in, shattering the glass, and sending the entire cabinet flying off the bedroom’s landing and down to the floor below. Applejack didn’t see it hit, but she heard the thunderous sound—felt the weight of the impact as the cabinet shattered and took all the delicate mechanisms inside with it. Metal and crystal and wood and glass flew in all directions, forming a glittering mess on the floor below.
Rainbow Dash drew three quick breaths—her muzzle twisted back like a snarling animal. She screamed at the top of her lungs, driving another kick back into the closet door and smashing it nearly in half, a sharp swipe of her forehoof knocking over the end table by the bed off the ledge and sending the phonograph atop it to a similar demise.
“Rainbow!” Applejack shouted, rushing towards her. “Get a...” Before Applejack could finish, Rainbow Dash bolted out the open window and fled into the sky. Applejack rushed to the window after her, but could chase her no further, and it was only after she was long gone that Applejack finished. “...hold of yerself.”
Applejack sighed, but shook her head and returned to her work. She removed the damaged closet door, and resolved to bring a new set along with the plates and cutlery from the farm. She sorted the mess Rainbow had left in the closet as best she could and boxed those things she thought didn’t belong. She threw away the broken phonograph and dragged the cabinet out to the street. She swept up the broken glass.
Eventually, all that was left was to see to the dresser and the pictures there. Try as she might, though, she could not sort all of them in her mind. After some hesitation, she decided it was better that a few be missing than any get improperly sorted, and she boxed away all those of which she was uncertain.
Finally, she opened the dresser itself, halfheartedly rummaging through the contents. Clothes, pens, ink bottles, nothing for her to bother with. She almost missed the journal entirely, hidden away as it was under two layers of towels. She felt it first as a strange obstruction, something that thumped against the corner of the drawer when she touched it. She quickly uncovered it, pushing the towels away and lifting it up out of its hiding place.
It looked like an old book—heavy cover, thick bindings, yellowing paper—though Applejack wasn’t sure if it was actually ancient or simply made in the traditional way. It didn’t smell old—no scent of dust or drying paper—but it was certainly well worn, cracks visible at the edges of the cover and along the binding. When Applejack flipped through it, she found the pages filled with lines of elegant calligraphy, as well as beautiful illustrations of ponies, animals, and mechanical devices. Each entry had a date at the top that advanced like a flipbook as the pages turned.
For a moment, she considered putting it back—even if she knew she had the right, it was not in her nature to snoop into other ponies’ private affairs. That moment passed however, and she hesitantly opened it to the first entry. The date there was more than fifty years past, the paper fragile and stiff.
April 3, 953
Flash Dance gave me this journal today. It’s an amazing book. She said she made it for me herself as a birthday gift, since she would be at school in Canterlot during my actual birthday, but I think she wanted to show off how much she’s learned. When she first gave it to me, it appeared to be a single page nestled between the covers. I thought it was some kind of prank, but she marked the corner with a pen, and suddenly there was a second page behind it.
Applejack glanced at the upper right corner of the first page, and found that there was an odd slash of ink there that she had previously overlooked.
I marked the second page immediately, and a third appeared. This persisted up until at least the fifteenth page, after which Flash Dance laughed and told me I could stop. She says that the book will keep generating new pages as long as I keep writing in it. Of course, I had a thousand questions as to just how that worked, which Flash Dance answered with only three points. First, there is no upper limit. As long as I keep writing, the book will generate pages forever. Second, that no matter how many pages the book has, it will never become thicker or heavier than a mid-length novel. Third, every entry must start with a date—any page that does not have a date at the top will vanish when the book is closed. She also said that the book may have other properties, but that I’d have to find those on my own.
Naturally, my next question was how such a thing is possible, but she only laughed again and told me to figure it out. Mother was quite cross at that and told her it wasn’t fair to tease me for being an earth pony, but I don’t think she meant it that way at all. She’s not teasing me for being an earth pony, she’s teasing me for being her little brother. Besides, she knows I like puzzles, and it would hardly be the first time I have shown an interest in her schoolwork despite not being able to use it myself.
Still, I do think that Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns has left her slightly too full of herself, and have decided to make good on her challenge. I expect she thinks I will just tinker around with it for a few weeks and discover whatever little features she’s left for me, but I intend to one-up her. I am going to figure out how this works, and next she visits home, present her with a superior version of the same gift—let her figure out how I did it. I’ll have to get a unicorn to do the actual enchanting of course, but I’m sure I can persuade somepony when the time comes.
The first step will be figuring out where to look. Flash Dance’s cutie mark is not related to enchanting, so I suspect that this book was made only with techniques that are considered a matter of general study, possibly even as a class project. However, I’ve never heard of a book like this before, and they would surely be available in quantity if they were easy to produce. That suggests that she’s utilized some resource available at the school which is not commonly accessible.
I see three possibilities: that the book is made from rare and expensive materials, that it was made in some kind of specialized workshop, or that she exaggerated when she said she made it herself and has received direct help from one of her teachers. Examination of the book under a magnifying glass does not reveal any uncommon materials, but I have made a list of every substance used in its creation, as well as taking a sample of the paper. Finding a reference guide will be—
Applejack flipped through the next several pages in the hope of finding something more relevant, but there was only further analysis of the book, talk of libraries, and a list of all the unicorns in town. What town she was not sure—the journal didn’t say. She was not sure what she’d been looking for, but that was not it. Her head hung, her shoulder slumped, and again she turned to leave.
And again she hesitated.
Back and forth she went like that, four times stepping towards the book, and then away from it. She stared at it each time, steeling herself and resisting the urge to take it—only for that urge to tug on her all the harder as she tried to step away. On the fourth time, she bit her lower lip, and after a long moment, surrendered to temptation, taking it in her teeth.
She locked the front door to the library on her way out.
Applejack sat at the kitchen table, the flickering light from her candle casting long shadows over the farmhouse. It was late—late enough that all the other members of the Apple family had long since gone to bed. The entire farm rose before first light, and so as a family, they were not partial to the wee hours. Tonight though, Applejack couldn't sleep. Instead, she read by firelight, the old journal held open on the table in front of her.
December 15, 965
Father’s condition continues to degrade. His lucid moments are becoming less frequent, and on any given visit to the hospital, it is not certain he will be conscious. The doctors insist that surgery will only burn the time he has left, and that we should focus on making him comfortable, but I have refused them. They think I am being selfish—ignoring his pain because I cannot stand the thought of his passing—but they are incorrect. I know this is what he would want. Pain never troubled him, and he knows mother needs him.
And she does need him, badly. I return home every weekend, and Flash Dance visits as often as she can, but it is clear that the house is not being cared for in our absence. It is often a mess, and Flash Dance informed me that when last she arrived, she found Mother still in bed well past noon, and that she was not in a fit state. She always was a fragile creature. Kind and caring, but weak. I do not know what will become of her if Father passes, but I have asked the university if I may have time off to visit her mid-week. She will need somepony to take care of her, and I know Flash Dance is struggling to make the time as it is.
I remain unsure what to think of it all. My father is dying, and I’d be within my rights to be paralyzed with fear or grief, but I feel flat. He was always there for me. I suppose I can’t imagine a world without him in it. I am not writing him off yet though. He is stubborn, and determined to be there for his family. At times he seems more earth pony than I am. If there is a way he might survive, he will find it.
I worry for Flash Dance, but while I am certain she is in pain, she hides it. She takes after Father that way. I should be lucky—
A creak of wood made Applejack jump, and she shot to her hooves, a burst of adrenaline rushing through her. She soon realized it was only Big Mac however, his distinctive outline coming into view as he stepped off the rear stairs into the kitchen. Applejack sighed when she recognized him, and she slid her rear back to the floor, although her body remained stiff and tense. “Hey there, Big Mac.”
“Applejack,” he greeted her in turn, with his usual calm, slow tones. “You’re up late.”
“Yeah,” Applejack said, glancing at the book and candle. Her hoof actually left the ground, moving to cover the book and hide what she was doing, before she suppressed the urge and returned it to the floor. “Couldn't sleep,” she added, when the resulting silence grew too long.
“What’s that you’re reading?” he asked, nodding at the table, his eyes flicking to the book and then back to his sister.
“It’s, uh...” Applejack glanced at the book as well, hesitating before she answered. “It’s Tick Tock’s journal. Ah found it when Ah was cleanin’ up the library.”
“About what happened with Twilight?” Big Mac asked, showing no reaction to the news, his face as flat and stoic as ever.
“No. Ah mean, maybe that’s later, but Ah’m startin’ at the beginnin’,” she said, glancing down at her hooves. She felt pinned to the spot, guilty like a foal caught with her muzzle in the cookie jar, and her ears folded back. “Right now it’s mostly just personal stuff: how he got his artificer’s cutie mark, his first job at Canterlot University, that sort of thing. His dad’s sick, right now. Cancer.”
“Mmm,” Big Mac said, a sound between a murmur and a grunt. “Sounds like an interestin’ book.”
“Not really,” Applejack said, shrugging, though her eyes remained on the floor. “It’s mostly day-to-day stuff. Job, family, projects. He draws little mechanisms a lot.”
For a time, nopony spoke. To Applejack, it seemed an eternity—she just stared at her hooves, feeling her brother’s gaze, wishing, willing him to say something. Big Mac only stood there however, looking at her with an impassive expression. “Applejack,” he finally spoke. “Why are you reading that?”
“Ah jus’...” She paused to swallow, struggling to find the words. “Ah need to understand why.”
“There ain’t no why to these things, AJ, ‘cept that some ponies are sick in the head,” Big Mac answered, firmly shaking his head. “There ain’t gotta be a reason behind it.”
“Ah knew that, Big Mac, but Ah... Ah jus’...” Applejack opened and closed her mouth a few times without a sound. “Ponies are startin’ to ask where Twilight is, and... and we’re gonna have to tell them somethin’. And when we do, there’ll be questions. Ah’m not sure the girls will be able to deal with it. Rainbow Dash is barely holding together; Fluttershy’s even worse. Ah know they won’t be ready when the time comes, and I’m gonna have to explain to everypony what happened and...” She drew a breath, finding her throat so tight the air would barely come. “Ah’m not really sure myself.”
Big Mac stepped forward, and the two embraced quietly, understanding each other perfectly without a word. “Ah’ll be up soon, Big Mac,” she said, her voice rough and choked. “Ah jus’...”
“You want some company?” he asked, and Applejack laughed, a joyless sound closer to tears than humor.
“Yes,” she said, squeezing him tight as they hugged. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”
Eventually, they disentangled themselves. Big Mac got a cloth to wipe away the tears that dotted Applejack’s face, and they lit a lantern to replace the sputtering and dying candle. She tried to resume her reading, but her eyes would not focus on the page. She wasn’t sure if it was the tears or the conversation or Big Mac sitting next to her, but the text simply could not hold her gaze. After several failed attempts to force her way through, she took the pages in hoof, and let them flip ahead. The dates marched forward before her eyes—forty years ago, thirty years ago, ten, five, four, three, two.
One.
It was a drawing that stopped her.
It was an ink drawing—Rainbow Dash in flight. Applejack had seen Rainbow fly many times, but this picture was not like any of them. It did not show her diving or climbing or turning, but floating, making her way through the air on the gentlest currents. It was an intensely detailed illustration, and Applejack could see every gust of wind in the way Rainbow Dash’s body relaxed and tensed to catch it. It was like she was twisting herself through the air, as a swimmer in the water. It showed her smiling, but the smile was again not like any Applejack had seen her wear before. It was gentle, but extended all the way up to her eyes—contentment.
Applejack studied the drawing in silence for some time. She doubted it was made from life—she couldn't imagine Rainbow Dash ever assuming such a pose. Despite that, there was something about it: a certain familiarity. It felt like her friend.
She turned the page.
May 9, 1005
I do believe that mare has stolen my heart.
At first, I thought I was just physically attracted to her. She is quite beautiful, and it’s not hard to interpret the way I’d get tongue-tied around her, but I thought that the extent of things. I knew that our friendship was more important than some passing infatuation, so I made a point of trying to hide my feelings. She did catch me staring at her once or twice, to my great embarrassment, but I pretended it had never happened, and she did the same. Lately though, I can’t keep her out of my head. There’s something about her that makes the world brighter when she’s near—that makes me happy just to be around her.
I’ve been trying to ignore those feelings—I’m not sure if she’d be interested, and even if she is, she is not a mare who gives herself by parts. If she agreed to be with me and my feelings turned out to just be a passing crush, I do think it would break her heart. I couldn’t bear that. Such thoughts have been enough to keep me from pursuing the matter. But now...
I saw her today.
She was in the market near Sugarcube Corner. I was running errands when I noticed her. She seemed upset, and I asked her what was wrong. Of course, she wouldn't say, but I didn’t expect her to. She hates crowds when she’s brooding, so I knew there had to be a reason she was in the market instead of in the sky. With her so close to Sugarcube Corner, it was not hard to figure out she’d had a fight with Pinkie Pie and was trying to work up the nerve to admit she was wrong. I thought I’d cheer her up, and for a while, we talked about nothing: how her Wonderbolt trials were doing, life in Canterlot, that new stallion Rarity fancies. I thought that after a while, she’d work up the nerve to move and talk to Pinkie Pie. But she didn’t. She told me what was bothering her.
She’s afraid.
She said that Pinkie Pie made a joke about staying in Ponyville forever, and that that was enough to set her off shouting until the Cakes told her to go. She said that she’s scared—that she can see her friends starting to settle down: Rarity with her career, Pinkie Pie with her cake shop, me. She said that she can see all her friends turning into these responsible adults while she stays just where she is. I was about to tell her that she was being ridiculous—that she’s the winter wrapup team leader, and a future Wonderbolt, and of course she’s growing up. Then she looked rightat me.
I have never wanted to shield a living creature so much as I did her at that moment. She was on the verge of tears, but couldn't tell me why, and I longed to wrap her up and tell her it would all be okay. She wasn’t afraid of her friends moving on; she was afraid that a time was coming when we could move on—when we wouldn't need her anymore, and she wouldn't need us. She was afraid that one of us would leave her, or worse, that she would go, and we wouldn't care.
I was instantly struck mute, of course, my jaw frozen as I mentally screamed at myself to say something—
Applejack paused, rereading the previous paragraph. Her eyes focused on a few words. We. Us. Me. Her stomach started to turn, and she felt bile rising in her throat. She flinched away, like the words themselves caused her feelings simply by proximity, and she quickly flipped the pages forward. The entry went on for pages and pages, more writing in that single entry than in the last week combined. Finally, she reached the next day.
May 10, 1005
She said yes.
“Oh...” Applejack said, the churning in her stomach turning to full nausea. “Oh, ponyfeathers.” She slammed the book shut, shoving it away and forcing herself to draw slow, even breaths. Big Mac departed for a moment to find a bucket, and then laid it to rest in front of Applejack before returning to her side. There he sat next to her, holding her shoulder with a hoof as she struggled to calm herself.
“What was it?” he asked, when the tremors in her gut had subsided. She leaned down to spit into the bucket, wiping away the traces of water at the edge of the mouth.
“Ah don’t want to say,” Applejack answered, trying to swallow the taste of bile away. She drew a sharp breath after that, then a deep one, hanging her head low. “What are we gonna do, Big Mac?” she asked, her voice trembling faintly. “What are Rainbow Dash and Twilight gonna do?”
“Move on,” he said, with a faint shrug.
“What? That’s it!?” she snapped, turning her head up to glare at him. He showed no reaction, which only made her shout louder. “That’s all you got to say!? You can’t just shrug and—and pretend it never happened! You can’t just tell me to move on. It ain't that easy!”
“Nope,” Big Mac answered her shouting, like a rock in a storm. “But it’s what’s next.”
“Ah don’t... Ah...” Applejack started, but Big Mac gestured with a hoof for silence. Their ears twitched and turned at one to face the stairs, and they both heard the sound of little hooves on the wood—the creak of the old beams. “Come on out, Apple Bloom,” Applejack said after a moment, forcing herself to stand up straight.
Apple Bloom slunk down the steps, silently making her way into the kitchen. She wasn’t a foal any longer—her awkwardly long legs, uneven voice, and the trio of stars upon her flank all spoke to that. But when she entered the kitchen, she looked like a foal, ears folded back and head lowered. “I heard shouting,” she said quietly, like that were somehow her fault.
“Sorry,” Applejack said, sighing quietly. “We were uh... your big brother and Ah were jus’—”
“About to call it a night,” Big Mac supplied, and Applejack nodded and forced her expression into something like neutral, commanding her voice to steady.
“That’s right. It’s late,” Applejack said with a firm nod. “You go on back up, Apple Bloom. We’ll be right after you.”
Apple Bloom nodded back gently, but she didn’t move, standing her ground and looking at the floor. She flicked her tail this way and that, and after a long silence asked, “Applejack? Why is Twilight gone?”
“She’s in Canterlot on—”
“On Princess buisness, you said.” Apple Bloom sighed. “But... Ah mean. Ah’m not blind, Applejack. Ponies are starting to wonder.” She scraped over the floor with a hoof, letting it catch the knots in the wood. “Is she okay?”
“She’ll be back the day after tomorrow, Apple Bloom,” Applejack answered, drawing a breath and letting it out. “The girls and I are all taking the train to Canterlot to get her, remember? Now go to bed.”
“Y-yeah, Ah know,” Apple Bloom said, raising her head. “But, is she okay? I mean, was she hurt, or—”
“Go to bed, Apple Bloom,” Applejack repeated, her voice growing tenser as the stiffness in her jaw grew. Apple Bloom didn’t react, save to lower her gaze back to the floor.
When Apple Bloom didn’t move, Big Mac stepped up to her, nudging her back towards the stairs. “You heard your sister. Go on up,” he said, emphasizing the words with a little push. She turned, slowly trotting back up the stairs. After she was gone, Bic Mac turned his attention to Applejack again, “Ah should go have a word with her. Ah’ll be right back, and—”
“No.” Applejack shook her head, rising. “You were right. Ah’ll... be up in a bit. Should get to bed.” Big Mac nodded, and climbed the stairs after Apple Bloom. Not long later, Applejack went upstairs as well.
“Canterlot! All aboard for Canterlot!” cried the conductor. Applejack was already in the train car, seated on one of the long benches. She raised her head and looked around for her friends, but still saw no sign of them. A quick glance at the station clock determined that they had only a few minutes before the train left without them, and it had already been sitting in the station for nearly a quarter hour.
Quietly, she sighed, and turned back to her book.
November 27, 965
It was only when I stopped to write in the date that I realized it has been more than a month since I picked up this journal. I used to write here every day, but lately, I’m so tired it is all I can do to fall into bed at the end of each day. I am ill suited to my job on the apple farm—I lack either strength or endurance, and I must often stay late to finish the work I have been assigned. By the end of each day, my legs and back are in agony, and I struggle to return my tools to the barn. I know that Autumn Gold has noticed, and she would be within her rights to fire me, but she has said nothing. I am an earth pony, and I do not complain. She understands.
Despite this though, I prefer the farm to home. Mother’s condition shows no signs of improvement. Many days she is unresponsive, and when she does wake, it is only to scream obscenities at me.She calls me the disappointment of the family, spits vitriol over every detail of how the house is kept, and accuses me of envying and resenting my sister for her horn. She has even blamed me for Father’s death—accusing me of poisoning him. When she does, I say nothing and wait for it to pass. There’s nothing to do but bear it.
My savings have long since run out, but my job on the apple farm keeps the house, and Flash Dance is able to pay for Mother’s medication, though I have long since given up hope that the psychiatrists will be able to cure her. Father was her anchor to the world, and without him, it is clear she has retreated into madness. Flash Dance has raised the possibility of having her committed, but I know that’s not what Father would have wanted. He trusted me to take care of her when he was gone. I can’t go. I can’t.
It has been so long since I had the chance to design something that I’m starting to forget what my cutie mark is for. Many times the local tinkerer has refused me work, but I think I may ask if I can take some of his jobs for free. I need to work with gears again, with magic and metal and gemstones. Just to remember what it feels like.
Looking at the window, I realize it’s after ten, and the house is still quiet. I should get up and make sure Mother has—
“Applejack!” Rarity’s voice very nearly made Applejack leap from her seat, all her muscles going momentarily stiff. She turned her head sharply, just in time to see Rarity and Rainbow Dash enter the train. Rarity was obviously out of breath, her sides heaving under her saddlebags as she panted for air. Rainbow Dash was quieter, her face impassive as she floated in through the train’s open door. She said nothing, taking her bench and watching Rarity stumble up to Applejack. “Oh, goodness, Applejack. I’m glad we made it.”
“Ya almost didn’t,” Applejack said, shutting her book. “What kept ya? Where are Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie?”
“Fluttershy isn’t coming,” Rarity said breathlessly, taking a moment to recover before she continued. As she focused on even breaths and let her heart slow, the doors to the train shut behind her. Outside, the conductor made his way across the platform, calling out for last boarding. “We stayed as late as we dared to try and convince her, but the poor dear won’t even leave her cottage. She was in such a state that Pinkie Pie thought it best to stay behind and watch over her.”
“Did she now,” Applejack said, her voice flat. Rarity frowned, peering at Applejack’s face, searching for her expression. Rainbow Dash said nothing, just turning to look out the window as the train jolted into motion. “Sorry,” Applejack finally said, looking back down at her bench. “You think Fluttershy will be okay?”
“I... hope so,” Rarity said, after a pause, making her way to her own bench opposite Rainbow Dash. “This has been very trying on her. On all of us, of course, but... well.”
“Ah know,” Applejack nodded wearily. “Well, maybe Pinkie Pie can help her. How are you holdin’ up, RD?” Rainbow Dash gave her no answer, silently watching the terrain go by. Rarity and Applejack exchanged a long, silent glance, looking at each other and then back to her in the hope that she would respond. Still though, she said nothing, and eventually Applejack spoke: “So uh... have we figured out what we’re tellin’ everypony in Ponyville?”
“The truth, I suppose,” Rarity said, with a gentle shrug. “We’ll have to tell Twilight first, of course. I think it might be best if she had a few days to adjust before the rest of the town knew. But in the end, I don’t see what’s to be gained by trying to hide it any longer.”
“Ah suppose...” Applejack agreed, her tail twitching back and forth as she spoke. “Ah jus’ don’t... I mean...” Applejack refocused her gaze on Rarity, her ears coming up and to attention. “Ah jus’ don’t understand. How do ya sound so normal? Listenin’ to you, it’s like nothin’ happened.”
“Many things happened, Applejack,” Rarity said, and though she forced her head to stay level, Applejack could see her body growing tense, her voice strained. “But I refuse to allow that monster to harm me any further than it already has. What’s done is done. We will move on and... and recover, in time. That’s all there is to it.”
“Heh...” Applejack let out a humorless laugh, her ears folding back as she looked at the floor. “‘It’?”
“It can call itself whatever it likes,” Rarity answered, and though she kept her voice even, her words were noticeably quicker and sharper. “It’s a stain on my hoof as far as I’m...” Rarity paused, realizing she’d become carried away, and quickly she looked at Rainbow Dash. Applejack followed her lead, but Rainbow showed no reaction. “Well... as far as I’m concerned,” Rarity finished, considerably more subdued.
“Ah guess that’s—”
“What’s in the book?” Rainbow Dash asked, her intrusion so sudden that Applejack needed a moment to realize anything had been said. By the time she recovered, Rainbow Dash was already looking back at her with a flat expression and an empty stare.
“Nothing,” Applejack said, dismissively waving her hoof. “It’s just somethin’ Ah brought for the—”
“I’m not stupid, AJ,” Rainbow Dash said, and though her face was flat, the next breath she drew was so tense Applejack could hear her chest shake with the motion. “I’ve seen it before. It was sitting on the dresser in the library. What’s in it?”
“It’s... a journal,” Applejack said cautiously, moving a hoof to cover it. Rarity looked between them, uncertain. “Sorry. Ah shouldn't have had it out.”
“Read it out loud then,” Rainbow Dash said, glancing down at the book, and then at Applejack. “I want to know what it says.”
“No, you really don’t,” Applejack insisted, pulling the book away from Rainbow Dash. “Rainbow, it’s some pretty messed up stuff. Ah don’t think—”
“You don’t think I have a right to know what’s in there!?” Rainbow Dash yelled, her shout echoing around the cramped train car. Her wings flared out a few inches from her body as she spoke, the feathers splaying out as Rainbow’s tail lashed. “You don’t think I deserve to... to know... what he...” Rarity reached out to her, the energy seeming to flow out of Rainbow Dash. Rarity held her shoulder as she lowered her head, and murmured, “Just read something, Applejack.”
For a moment, Applejack considered refusing her, looking to Rarity for direction. Before she could probe the other pony’s face though, Rainbow Dash spoke again, a quiet: “Please.”
Applejack turned back to the book, flipping to a random entry and drawing a breath. “January 4, 968,” she read. “As of today, I am no longer—” A quiet choking sound emerged from her throat, and she quickly covered the entry with a hoof. “Uh, let’s find a different one,” she said, moving to flip through the pages.
“Read that one,” Rainbow Dash ordered, with a sharp shake of her head.
“Rainbow Dash, I really don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Applejack said, looking across at her friend. “There’s a lot of entries here, we can just pick another one.”
Rainbow Dash said nothing, but she looked at Applejack. A long, quiet stare. Applejack bore it for a moment, then pulled away, shifting her hind legs uncomfortably. As the silence continued, she bit her lip, looking down at the floor. Finally, after what seemed to Applejack an eternity, Rainbow Dash spoke again, “Read that one.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Applejack moved her hoof.
January 4, 968
As of today, I am no longer a virgin. I suppose it was past time—twenty-eight is not exactly my blushing youth—but I admit to having mixed feelings about the experience. It was with Row Crop, one of the mares on the farm. She approached me after work, and said that she had often seen me about town. I did not know her well, and was unsure what she was getting at, so I simply responded that that was true. I think that surprised her, because she paused for a moment before more forcefully adding that she had never seen me with a mare. At that point, I began to suspect her meaning, but I did not wish to offend her by being too forward, and so I again answered plainly, telling her that I did not have a mare in my life. That made her laugh, though I am uncertain what about it she found amusing, and she asked if I would like to go for a walk after work.
We talked a bit, on our way through the apple trees. She asked if I was the one who makes all those new devices in the tinkerer’s shop—the knives that never need sharpening and the pots that heat themselves without a stove. I told her that I was, and we talked about my career for a while. She asked if I would go back to Canterlot when Mother dies, and I told her that I would. I suppose it’s no secret around town how rapidly her health has started to degrade.
Still, I am uncomfortable with the subject, and I took the chance to ask about her instead. I had assumed she was a farm pony, perhaps even part of the Apple family, but her special talent is organization. She took her job here for much the same reason I did—family she couldn’t leave. She made no secret of her desire to leave, and I could hear the yearning in her voice. Whenever possible, she would try to shift the conversation back to me, and in the end, we found a comfortable balance in my telling her tales of the university, and her of her life here.
At her urging, we stopped before a grove of old trees off the edge of the farm, beyond where the Apples now harvest. She put a leg around me, and led me amongst the leaves and bushes, and it was there that we consummated our affections. Of the act itself, I have little to say, save that I believe I neither disappointed nor awed her. She seemed contented afterwards, and we lay side by side for a time, enjoying each other's presence.
Yet, I still wonder what she hoped to gain. I suppose she could have just been interested in the pleasure of the act—though there are certainly more physically impressive stallions than I on the farm, I am not wholly unattractive. Her manner afterwards, though, leads me to believe she is interested in a more serious relationship. I do not understand why, for we have rarely spoken before now, and while I found her agreeable, I have no special feelings for her. Perhaps she simply wants me because I am different than the others? Then again, perhaps I am seeing what I wish to see, and she thinks nothing more of me than a passing fling.
Either way, I don’t see the harm. I will ask if she is free tomorrow. Perhaps we could spend some time in town.
Applejack finished the entry and closed the book. The only sound to be heard in the train car was the steady click and clack of its wheels on the rails, the car gently shaking back and forth. She did not continue, waiting for Rainbow Dash to speak.
“So that’s it?” Rainbow finally asked, after perhaps ten seconds of silence. “It’s just... a bunch of stuff about old marefriends and things?”
“Yup. That’s it,” Applejack nodded, quick to put the book away before Rainbow Dash could ask her to read from it again. Rarity shut her eyes and sighed silently when the book vanished back into Applejack’s saddlebags, her shoulders slumping just so. “Nothin’ important. Just been skippin’ around.”
“So, what happens with him and her then?” Rainbow asked, gently raising her head. “Is she in there later?”
“Uh... yeah,” Applejack said, letting out a stiff breath. “Yeah. They uh... they end up gettin’ married after about a year.”
“Oh...” Rainbow Dash said, her ears perking up slightly. “So when did she die?”
Applejack bit her lower lip, looking down at the floor as she slowly shook her head. To Applejack, the silence seemed to hang forever, before Rainbow finally asked: “Divorced?”
Again, Applejack shook her head.
“I’m...” Rainbow said, her voice croaking as she tried to finish. She swallowed, but still could not find the words, and quickly sat up. “I’m going to fly to Canterlot. I’ll catch up with you at the palace.”
“Rainbow, no!” Rarity said, reaching a hoof over to Rainbow to try to stop her. Rainbow Dash ignored her, though, and shoved open the carriage window. “Please, we can talk about this. Rainbow!” Her pleas fell on deaf ears, and as soon as the window was open, Rainbow launched herself out into the air, her wings catching the breeze and hurling her off and away. Wind whipped and whistled through the train car from the open window, making Rarity’s and Applejack’s manes lash this way and that. “Why didn’t you stop her!?” Rarity demanded, turning on the spot to face Applejack.
“Just let her go, Rarity,” Applejack said, watching the blue speck fade off into the sky above. “It’s for the best.”
Rainbow Dash seemed to grow smaller and smaller in the train window, and eventually, was lost to sight.
Nothing works. The clones generated by the mirror pool are idiot savants, incapable of carrying on in my stead, and their blood and organs are tainted by the pool’s magic and unsuitable for transfer. I have eliminated the unneeded copies, and with them die two more of my ideas for how my flesh might be restored. I am now enroute back to Canterlot to resume my experiments on changeling magic, but I am not hopeful. If a means to apply their regenerative powers to ponies even exists, I am unlikely to find it in the few weeks I have left.
It’s not fair. Have I not done everything a pony should do? Everything a pony CAN do!? I am a genius. I could have been the most famous artificer in Equestria. I could have been wealthy and lauded! I could have been the first earth pony to teach at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns! And I gave it all up to do the right thing! I gave it all up, for my sister’s career and my mother’s health and my wife’s peace of mind. I could have done whatever I wanted in life, and I gave it up for the ponies who needed me. And what do I get for it!?
Cancer.
Is this what my father felt? Was this his life? Did he sacrifice everything he had for Mother, Flash Dance, and me, only for the universe to spite him? I have done everything that a pony is supposed to do! And what do I have to show? A dead family. No children. No friends. A wife who I do not and never have loved. An unremarkable professorship at the University of Canterlot.
I was born to greatness—I know I was. I was the earth pony who understood magic without a horn. I was the pony who could spin wonders out of wood and iron that all the wizards of Canterlot couldn't make with gold and gems. When Celestia herself needed an enchanter, she called upon me! I had the potential for greatness in me, and I pissed it away because I thought I was supposed to.
My every waking hour is consumed by the hope that there may be some cure, but I know it is a fantasy. How many great artificers and wizards have died over the course of history? If magic had the power to heal all afflictions, one of them would have found the means. My nights are spent wondering if I will leave any mark on the world when I’m gone. Not my family, certainly not my wife. My work, perhaps, but only for whoever takes my place.
I have turned to Princess Celestia and Princess Sparkle for some small comfort. They are immortal, and their memory will not dull with age. Princess Celestia will always remember asking me to tutor her student in enchanting, and in some small way, I will always be Twilight Sparkle’s teacher. That brief memory will be all that is left of me.
Unless. Twilight wasn’t always immortal.
If I could get the Elements to work for me, that might provide a solution. She is immune to the ravages of time and form, as are Celestia and Luna! But the Elements only work that way for her. I would need a means of triggering them.
I think I have an idea.
Canterlot Castle was beautiful above ground, but underground, a dungeon is a dungeon, no matter how nice the building above may be. Narrow corridors, weak illumination, steel doors, and bars. Applejack made her way down the main corridor to the deepest, most secure cell in the whole of the palace. It didn’t even look like a cell—just a solid wall with half a dozen unicorn guards standing before it. She spoke to the guards there, they opened the cell door for her. It slid apart with a rumble like a rolling boulder, finally coming to rest with a loud thud. The door was just wide enough for a single pony to pass, and Applejack walked through it and inside.
There, she saw something she did not understand. She saw a pony in chains—a purple alicorn, with stars for a cutie mark and with a streak of color in her mane. Her legs were bound in irons, her wings held to her side by thick steel straps, her horn wrapped in a sheath of copper and rowan wood that left it unable to conjure so much as a spark. She saw a pony crying, saw tears running down her face, heard her sniffling and trying to hold it all in. She saw Twilight, her friend, in pain.
“Hello, Tick Tock,” Applejack said, her voice flat and her face still.
“Applejack? Is that you?” Tick Tock asked with Twilight’s voice, peering up and squinting, though Applejack was not three feet away. “What’s happening? Nopony tells me anything, and I think I’m starting to go blind. It’s getting so dark.”
“That would be the magic bindin’ you to Twilight’s body wearin’ off,” Applejack said, plainly and directly. “Took Princess Celestia a while to figure out how ya did it with the Element of Magic and what, but she got it in the end. Says it’ll take about another hour to wear it down completely. First you go blind, than deaf, then numb, then you fall asleep, and then Twilight wakes up again and we all go home.”
“You’re... you’re killing me?” Tick Tock asked weakly, Twilight’s wings twisting and straining in their bonds.
At first, Applejack had no answer, her jaw opening and shutting silently. “Yeah,” she finally said. That did not seem like enough to her, so she let out a breath, trying to think of what else to say. Nothing would come though, and so she simply repeated, “Yeah. I suppose we are.”
“No... no, you can’t!” Tick Tock said, her tone pleading, but Applejack remained stony-faced. “Applejack, please, this isn’t you. You’re not a killer—you won’t even spray bugs! Please don’t let the Princess do this to me.”
“Tick Tock...”
“Please, I’m sorry, I know I need to be punished, but I don’t have to die!” she pleaded, trying to reach out to Applejack until the chains went taut around her legs. “We can find another way to get Twilight back. We can... we can think of something, or—”
“Tick Tock—”
“—or, or find somepony else! Or the Elements of Harmony. Maybe they can set things right. Twilight has eternity, Applejack, this is my only life! Can’t we wait just a bit to see if there’s a way to save us both? Please, you know I—”
“Tick Tock!” Applejack shouted, her words clipped and curt. Her expression never shifted from that stony stillness, and Tick Tock pulled back as though stung, the chains around her clinking as she settled back. After the quiet in the room had stayed too long, Applejack broke it with a quiet, “I already asked. The Princess, she’s... well. She’s pretty set on this.”
“She...” Tick Tock sniffled, staring at Applejack, her mouth faintly open. After a moment though, she understood, sitting up as best she could in the heavy chains around her. “Where’s... where’s Rainbow Dash?” she asked. “Can I see her?”
“She don’t want to see you,” Applejack said quietly, shaking her head gently.
“I’m...” Tick Tock choked, unable to finish the words. She forced the sound down though, sitting as straight as the chains would allow and raising her head high. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Applejack, but please. I’m going to die. I need to tell her I love her.” Though Tick Tock could barely see Applejack, she looked her in the eye as best she could. “I need to say goodbye.”
Applejack sat quietly, lowing her rear to the floor. She didn’t answer right away, instead taking a moment to adjust her hat, shifting it this way and that. “What you need... well. Don’t matter so much anymore.” She let out a long breath, and then gently shook her head. “And I don’t think it’s what she needs right now.”
“I ah... I understand,” Tick Tock said, and though her voice was strained, she nodded. “Do you think later, when she’s ready, you could tell her? Let her know I was thinking of her?”
“Yeah,” Applejack said, drawing a deep breath and glancing at the floor. “Yeah, when she’s able to handle it, I’ll tell her.”
“Thank you, Applejack,” Tick Tock said. The cell fell into a silence, interrupted only briefly by Tick Tock’s attempt to hold her composure, her chest still rising and falling unsteadily, her throat tight and her voice rough. To Applejack, the moment seemed to drag on forever, and she looked down and away at the floor. Finally, Tick Tock asked, “So, why are you here then?” her voice revealing only the faintest tremble.
“Found your journal,” Applejack said, briefly looking back at her saddlebags. “Spent the last few days readin’ it just about cover to cover. Ah guess Ah was... lookin’ for where it all went strange. Where you talked about dreams of burning your parents, or enslaving the earth or... Ah don’t know. Evil stuff. But it was just boring. Everyday things.”
“A-and?” Tick Tock asked, her ears folding back as she looked slightly away and down.
“Ah guess what Ah’m askin’ is...” Applejack said, needing a moment to find the words. “Why? You were dying, Ah know—Twilight, immortality, ritual circle, Element of Magic, killing yourself, we put all that together. But you could have just... done that and laid low. Run off with her body. But ya stuck around in her life for two years. What makes a...” She swallowed, taking a moment to think. “A normal stallion decide he’s goin’ to go posses a nineteen-year-old mare and then date one of her friends?”
“I dated Rainbow Dash because I love her, Applejack,” Tick Tock insisted, sitting up in her chains and narrowing her eyes, her tone turning defensive as she raised her voice.
“You slept with her when she thought you were Twilight,” Applejack said, that queasy, twisting feeling in her gut returning. “She thought her best friend loved her, and then she finds out she’s been cuddling up with some sixty-year old stallion in a mare’s body. She hasn’t been comin’ to work, she won’t talk to anypony, Ah don’t think she’s been eatin’—”
“Don’t you—”
“You basically...” Applejack found her throat tightening, refusing to let out the words. She forced them out though, steeling herself and blurting out: “You raped her, Tick Tock.”
“Don’t you dare!” Tick Tock screamed, trying to leap up at Applejack. The chains around her went taut and slammed her back down to the floor, the metal ringing under her with the force of her impact. For a moment, she lay dazed, but soon she rose again. “I’d never hurt her! Never! I love her, and I wanted to be with her forever.” Tick Tock said, glaring out at Applejack. “Twilight was only ever her friend. I was the one who was close to her. I was the one who was always there when she needed me!”
Applejack looked at Tick Tock and slowly followed her gaze out to a point a few inches to the left of her head. Quietly, she leaned over, waving her leg up and down through the air there. Tick Tock continued to glare straight ahead, her eyes not moving. “I’d never hurt her!” Tick Tock yelled again into the silence, though now her voice had a strong tremble. Applejack continued to say nothing, leaning back to her old position. Still, the silence persisted, Tick Tock’s glare slowly softening, as she head tilted to the floor. “Is she really not eating? Can Fluttershy check on her, or...”
“Fluttershy’s worse off than RD is. She’s so afraid that all the ponies around her are impostors, she can’t trust anypony or anything. Won’t even leave her cottage,” Applejack said, watching Tick Tock’s ears fold back, her tail slump, her head sink to the ground. “Some of the pegasi are making sure RD’s okay though. Check in on her every day.”
“Oh. Good,” Tick Tock said, adding, “About them checking in on her, I mean. Not Fluttershy.” After another brief pause, she added a quicker “Fluttershy’ll be fine. She’s a lot stronger than she thinks.”
“I suppose she is,” Applejack said, letting the silence once again return. This time, though, she was more collected, raising her head and asking: “So is that why you stayed then? Rainbow Dash?”
“No,” Tick Tock said, shaking her head. “No. I wasn’t seriously interested in her until we’d known each other for a while.”
“Then... tell me?” Applejack asked wearily, just looking at the floor. “Would help me make some sense of all this.”
“You mares—the six of you, I mean—you don’t know how charmed your lives are,” Tick Tock said. “I know it doesn’t seem that way to you, but... you remember when Big Mac sprained his leg, and I had to help you take care of the farm?”
“Yup,” Applejack nodded gently. “Ah guess it should have struck me as odd that you knew your way around a farm so well. Read about that in your journal.”
“It should have struck you as odd,” Tick Tock agreed. “I should have been caught, then and there. The whole time I was pulling that plow, I was screaming to myself that this was a terrible plan—that Twilight would never do this. But it was... it was just so important to you.” Tick Tock swallowed, shaking her head as though to clear it. “And then at the end, you thanked me, and you gave me a hug, and I felt like it had all been worth it.”
“That’s why you did all this?” Applejack asked, “For a hug?”
“I want to do the right thing, Applejack,” Tick Tock said, blindly staring down at the metal floor. “I’ve spent my whole life doing the right thing—doing what a pony is supposed to do. All it did was waste my life. With you six... you do the right thing and it all ends well. That’s not how it works with other ponies. You give away everything you have for other ponies and all it means is you’ve got nothing left. I wanted it all to work out. I wanted to be a good pony and then get my happy ending.”
Her voice cracked, her eyes starting to glisten with tears. “Wasn’t I a good friend to you, Applejack?” she asked, lifting her head, though now the spot on which she focused was a good foot to Applejack’s right. “When you needed me, wasn’t I always there? Didn’t I prove I’d go to the ends of the earth for you? I did what Twilight would have done.” Applejack said nothing, watching as Tick Tock’s tears rolled down Twilight’s face. “I care about you all. I do.”
“Ah...” Applejack said, drawing the word out until there was nothing left. “Ah suppose Ah believe that, Tick Tock. You mean well. Maybe even got a good heart. If things had been different...” Her gut started to churn and twist, and she forced herself to go on. “But you’ve done somethin’ Ah can’t forgive. Even without RD, even without what you stole from Twilight, honesty is part of friendship too, and you were never honest with me.”
“I told you in the end, didn’t I?” Tick Tock asked, her voice cracking. “Isn’t that why I’m here? Because I was an idiot and confessed to Rainbow Dash? I wanted the mare I was going to spend eternity with to love me for who I really was. I knew you’d... I knew I’d need to be punished, but...” For a moment, she lost the power to speak, only a quiet whine emerging from her throat.
“If I’d just kept quiet, I’d still be in Ponyville,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut a moment to force the tears out. “I told you because I was tired of lying to you! Because you meant so much to me and I wanted to mean the same to you. Isn’t that worth something!?” she yelled up at Applejack, the words coming out hot and harsh.
Applejack didn’t respond for some time, her tail flicking this way and that as she fiddled with her hat. “It is,” she finally said. “It is worth something, Tick Tock. Just not enough.”
The oppressive silence of the cell was quick to return in the wake of Applejack’s words. The metal around them, far from amplifying sound or creating an echo, seemed to actively absorb noise, creating a stifling quiet. To Applejack, it seemed to stretch on forever, but no matter how uncomfortable it became, she could not bring herself to speak again. In the end, it was Tick Tock who spoke next.
“We... we had some good times though, right?” she asked, her voice weak and pleading. “I mean... good memories?”
“Yeah, some good memories,” Applejack agreed, raising her head to look at Tick Tock straight on. “Like that time you tried to pass ‘Changelings are bad news’ off as a friendship lesson.”
“But that’s what we learned,” Tick Tock said, laughing as she did, though the laugh was as strained and weak as her voice. “Remember that time Fluttershy drank expired cold medicine? Wanted to see if you tasted like apples and started chewing on your mane? That was pretty funny.”
“Up until she threw up on me, yeah,” Applejack agreed, with a weak smile.
“Actually, I thought that part was funny too,” Tick Tock said, laughing again—a quiet little chuckle. The sound ended abruptly, though, cut off by a loud sniffle. “I’m sorry, Applejack. I’m sorry for everything.”
“Ah know, Tick Tock,” Applejack said. After a moment, she rose, walking over to where Tick Tock was chained to the floor. She sat next to her, both of them sliding down to the metal side by side, the chains running under Applejack’s barrel. “Hey, you remember that time you forgot Twilight can’t cook, and tried to convince us all you had magic princess cooking powers?”
There they sat for some time, swapping stories of the last two years. Eventually, Tick Tock grew quiet, and lowered her head down to the ground, the conversation lapsing as she lay there in silence.
“Applejack?” she asked, one of her ears tilting up.
“Yeah, Tick Tock?” Applejack replied quietly.
“Applejack?” Tick Tock repeated, lifting her head sharply. “Applejack!?” she shouted, starting to sit up, the chains under Applejack going taut and biting into her ribs.
“Whoa, whoa! I’m here.” Applejack said, but Tick Tock continued to struggle and shout. “Hey, hey! Calm down!” she shouted, but Tick Tock’s ears did not move, her head blindly jerking back and forth. Applejack reached out with a leg, touching her side. She jumped as though shocked at the contact, but slowly settled down.
“Applejack, I... I can’t hear you,” she said, her voice louder than it should have been. She started to sniffle, though she did not cry, tucking her head in against Applejack’s side. “Please, Applejack. Please don’t let the Princess do this to me.”
“Shh. It’s okay,” Applejack whispered, her own voice wavering, vision blurring as the world became watery. She put her legs around Tick Tock’s shoulders, pulling her in close and holding her in a tight hug.
“I don’t want to die, Applejack—not here in this cell,” Tick Tock pleaded. “I want to see Ponyville again. I want to see Spike and all the students in the library. I want to fly again just to feel the wind. Please, Applejack. I’m sorry, but I have so much to live for. Please don’t let her do this!” Applejack said nothing, and in time, Tick Tock’s struggling slowed.
“Please don’t tell Row Crop,” Tick Tock whispered, “It would hurt her so much to know I cheated on her. Let her think I died, please.”
“Okay, Tick Tock,” Applejack whispered, “I promise.” She held Tick Tock’s head up with a leg, gently supporting her, and that way they stayed, as Tick Tock’s head grew heavier and heavier.
She knew at once that something was wrong. She was dizzy, disoriented, her throat felt raw, and when she tried to stretch her wings, she found them bound. She had no idea where she was or how she came to be there, but as her senses slowly cleared, she became aware of another pony. There were legs around her, holding her, somepony gently supporting her head and keeping her close. She flicked her eyes open, and saw a tan coat, three apples adorning the pony’s flank.
“Applejack?” she asked weakly, lifting her head. Applejack’s face was streaked with tears, her eyes red, and Twilight reflexively reached up to her friend. “Applejack, what’s—” Abruptly, her motion came to a stop, the chains around Twilight’s ankle going taut. She looked down sharply, quickly taking in her restraints. “Applejack? What’s happening?” she asked, the tension building in her voice.
“Don’t you worry none, sugarcube,” Applejack said, her voice rough and scratchy. “Ah called for the others and Princess Celestia. They’ll be down here in a jiffy ta get you out of those chains. But uh...” She sniffed loudly, reaching up to rub her eyes clear. “Would you mind answering a question for me real quick first?”
“Uh... okay,” Twilight agreed, but her voice remained stiff. “But what’s happening? Did I do something wrong? I didn’t lose control of my powers, did I? Is the Princess—”
“No, Twilight. Calm down,” Applejack said, “Jus’... tell me. What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Uh... I was in Canterlot, on my way to see an old teacher, Tick Tock. He taught me enchanting,” she said, peering closely at Applejack. “Then I was here. Applejack, have you been crying?”
“Nah,” Applejack said, sniffling and shaking her head. “Just glad to have ya back, sugarcube.”
