Knock In The Night...
It was quiet at Sweet Apple Acres. The chirp of crickets and the rustling of the orchards leaves by breeze were the only things heard on the cool summer night.
The Apple Family barn stood, as it had for generations. It's red and white paint standing out starkly from the sea of green that surrounded it. It's occupants were sound asleep, resting to prepare for the day's work ahead. Their workload had increased since the declaration, and they worked hard to meet their quotas. Which, thus far, they had succeeded in. They understood just how important their work was. Big Mac had friends who were in desperate need of the supplies that their farm produced. Apple Bloom was constantly being inspired and reminded of what their nations Guard were fighting for. Granny Smith, who had lived long enough to have been through this once before, desperately worked to ensure that this war didn't last as long as the one she had lived through.
But the most affected of the family was Applejack. She worked not for the whole of their nations troops, not for pride, and not for the securing of their nations liberties. Instead, she worked for a more personal reason.
One special stallion. Her special somepony. And, as of two years ago, her husband.
When war had broken out, she had begged him to stay. And he had, until the tide had started to take a turn for the worst. He, like so many others, had accepted the call to arms to defend their nation. He had done this for pride, for honor, and for country. She had understood, and had supported his decision. After all how could he, an able and fit stallion, stay home while every other stallion he knew had already joined the Royal Guard to defend their families.
She supported it, but it didn't mean she had to like it. Day after day, she worked vigorously to keep the worries from her mind. But night after night, she slept restlessly. Her mind in torment of what was happening to him, where he was, whether or not he was okay.
Day after day, her ears went without the familiar sound of her lovers voice. Day after day, the comforting noise of his blacksmithing forge, or the sound of his hoofsteps on the gravel, or the dust, or the grass remained silent. Day after day, his spot remained empty at the dinner table. Night after night, she missed the comfort of his forelegs wrapping around her in their bed. Night after night, she lay awake restlessly as she felt the empty outline of his body in the mattress, desperately wishing for his warm embrace.
But tonight, she slept. Not from happiness or peace of mind, but from exhaustion. The due date for their next quota was soon, and they were a little behind.
In fact, so deep was her exhausted sleep she didn't hear the crunching of gravel, as two sets of hooves made their way up the road to the barn. She didn't hear the slight coughs, or the clearing of a throat as the pair of stallions prepared to do the most unpleasant of task in the whole royal guard. She didn't hear their synchronized steps as they marched onto the front porch.
But she heard the knock...
Her eyes fluttered open and she laid in her bed. Her mind still swimming in the partial unconsciousness of sleep. Had her ears fooled her? Surely no one would come knocking on her door at this hour.
The knock came again.
She sat up in bed. Who could that be at this hour?
The knock came again.
Her eyes shot open as her mind finally jarred awake and remembered what was going on. Dread hit her like a blow to the stomach, and she got to her hooves shakily.
"Oh Celestia," she said in a desperate voice, "please no."
She walked out into the hall and down the stairs. As she made her way to the barn doors, time seemed to warp. She felt that she was walking agonizingly slowly, as if in a dream sequence.
She stood at the door, unsure and unwilling to open it.
Again the knock came, and she opened the door.
Her greatest fear stood in front of her, and she felt her heart break.
Two stallions, clad in military dress uniforms, stood to attention and slowly saluted.
"No," she whispered. Her voice weak and trembling "No, no, no..."
One of the stallions, the one on the right, stepped forward and handed her a letter.
Applejack took it. Her hooves trembling and her vision clouding. With weak legs, she opened it.
She read.
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Department of The Equestrian Royal Guard
Headquarters, Equestrian Royal Guard Support Command
Royal Palace, Canterlot
Mrs. Applejack Apple
12 Apple Road
Ponyville
Dear Mrs. Applejack,
I extend my most profound condolences to inform you of the loss of your husband, Corporal Ironworker, 22nd Infantry Company, who died on 15 March 1002 ALB as a result of wounds received in action against the enemy on the 11 March 1002 ALB.
News of your husbands death comes as a great shock to all who knew him, and his loss will be felt keenly by this organization. I sincerely hope the knowledge that Ironworker was an exemplary soldier and died while serving his country will comfort you in this hour of great sorrow.
Personally, and for the Officers and stallions of this command, please accept our deepest sympathy.
Sincerely,
Cloudmatter
Commanding Officer
3rd Battalion, 2nd Regiment
Equestrian Royal Guard.
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The two stallions stood perfectly still, looking upon the mare before them. She sat on her haunches, whimpering and shaking, the letter on the ground in front of her already starting to soak with tears.
The pair of stallions had been doing this task for the Royal Guard for a few weeks now, and they both knew what was coming next.
A cry penetrated the still summer night. A cry of sorrow and loss, forever to haunt the orchard of Sweet Apple Acres.