I. They Made Me To Care for the Earth
I. They Made Me to Care for the Earth
Applejack wiped the sweat from her brow and grinned in the waning sunlight. Even as it left, the sun was a hard master and the air as humid as it had been in the summer since she was a foal, riding on her father’s back. Walking through the lanes of towering apple trees, she thought that it was like swimming through the heavy evening air.
The work for the day was done and not a moment too soon. Her legs ached from hours of bucking, and her back complained of the abuses of a long harvest. But that was a small price to pay, really. It had been a wonderful year. The blight she’d feared would spread up from the south hadn’t taken hold of her orchards, Twilight had managed to rid her wheat in the north fields of disease and pests with magical ease, and with some old-fashioned Apple family work ethic, she had no doubt it would prove to be the bountiful year her family needed.
Twilight. She could see her out there, down the lane, pausing for a rest. Her smile remained, but it changed. It grew softer, perhaps. Twilight had been such a help. When she could get away from the library and the work the princess sent her, she was around as much as she could be. It was easy to forget, as the sun went down on another day of work, the days when Twilight couldn’t help and the weeks where she rushed from shelf to desk feverishly working on things Applejack did not understand and had no time to learn about.
Applejack let out a long sigh and set off down the lane. She passed her brother as he paused for a moment to catch his breath. Caramel, a hired hoof from the town, doused his mane and face in the last of his water. She lived for this, the activity and the work of a farming mare. She lived for the land, for working it and knowing it. She knew the names of the trees she passed, and she loved each and every one of them. As much as the girls thought naming the transplanted tree in Appeloosa was ridiculous, it was only the tip of the iceberg. There were trees, much nearer to home, that she had been playing in and on since she was young and knew like she knew the faces of her siblings and the touch of Twilight.
She met Applejack halfway, a weary but satisfied smile on her face. Applejack, with an evil grin, wrapped her in a tight, sweaty hug.
“Get off, silly,” she giggled, wriggling in Applejack’s forelegs. “You’re gross.”
“So are you!”
“Not as bad as you are, applebutt.” Twilight giggled, and Applejack released her.
“That’s a right terrible nickname, and you know it. Ain’t decent and it’s all beneath ya,” Applejack replied.
“I suppose. Are we done for the day?”
“Mhm. This orchard’s done with, too. I was worried we’d be behind, but we’re right on schedule. No little thanks to you,” she said, bumping Twilight.
“Yeah… glad to help,” Twilight said. She sighed.
Applejack’s smile, warm and seemingly constant, wavered, but did not fall. Tomorrow seemed far-off, and she liked it that way. She would not let it come an inch closer—not yet. “An’ I’m awful glad to have you. Part of the family,” she said, suddenly feeling shy. She and Twilight shared a smile.
“Think I’m gonna call it a day, head up and ring the bell, pay the hired hooves. Join me?” Applejack raised an eyebrow.
“Of course.”
They walked side by side, Twilight chattering away. Applejack loved how her voice went on, rising and falling, full of earnest interest and curiosity. It was all new, to her. Eternally new, and there was always more to consider. Twilight found something to wonder at in the simple mechanics of applebucking, in the organization of the workload, and Applejack listened and explained when she needed to. Mostly, she just enjoyed the sound of Twilight’s voice—savored it like a last meal.
There was a lull in the conversation, and Applejack began to hum an old tune.
Twilight glanced over but did not say anything, simply listening. Applejack tried to remember the lyrics, but they slipped away and would not be pieced together. Something about a town, and a young stallion.
“What is that?”
Applejack chuckled. “Funny you should ask. Can’t rightly remember. I’ve been tryin’ to figure out the words.”
“I like it. It sounds like an old country song, like those records you have.” She rolled her eyes. “Records, really?” She smiled. “Silly, why not move on? I’m sure they’re releasing the music you like on eight-track by now.”
“Well, yeah, but there ain’t no reason to invest in it. I guess they are, but I don’t like some of this new stuff. Ain’t authentic, doesn’t have the same soul. It’s… I dunno. It isn’t fake, exactly.”
Twilight shrugged. “I guess there’s something romantic about the old record player too. Tell me when you remember the words! I recognize it.”
Applejack continued humming it as they came to the bell. It hung from a pole that had been there since she was a foal, and its silver shine in the evening light was enticing. She rang it, and it sang out the closing of the day.
The hired hooves came in from the orchard in twos and threes, chatting, mostly grinning. Macintosh brought up the rear, stoic and quiet, hauling the last load of apples back to the barn. Applejack smiled at him as he passed. He grinned back, and then continued. Applejack talked to the hired ponies, doling out the daily pay, saying goodbyes. They drifted off towards town or the bunkhouse. Twilight stood beside her, and when she was done, Applejack looked back to find her smiling.
“Sorry ‘bout that. Always takes too long,” Applejack said.
“It’s fine,” Twilight said, and something in her voice perked Applejack’s ears up.
They walked back towards the house, flank to flank. The promise of dinner and company as the sun left kept her legs feeling light and her aches and pains seemed less important as she walked side by side with Twilight.
❧
They had been dating for years while Applejack shied around the question of rings. She had pondered and stalled and convinced herself that the season was not quite right. An illness in the family, last year’s rotten harvest. It had been Twilight who had broached the subject, to Applejack’s everlasting surprise.
She thought about it, sometimes, the way in which it had been done, the roundabout way in which Twilight had come to the question. As she savored the bite of the hard cider, Applejack watched Twilight descended the stairs, her mane hanging loose and damp around her shoulders. Applejack imagined she could catch the faint scent of lavender in the air. She grinned and poured out some cider for her fiance. Not a lot though. Over the years, she’d learned the ins and outs of Twilight.
“Want some?” Applejack asked, holding her mug up.
Twilight chuckled. “Sure. Just a little. We need to be getting to bed soon,” she said as she passed the table, and Applejack took her opportunity to nuzzle under chin. Twilight paused a moment and let out a soft, shaky sigh before coming around to sit.
Looks just as fine, work aside, Applejack thought, taking another swig. Mighty fine. Still can’t cook, but you can’t win every battle.
“Almost done,” Twilight said softly, sipping. She always did this, testing around the edge of the pool before diving in. Applejack knew she was no lightweight—knew it perhaps a little too well—but Twilight knew her own proclivities. Moderation, she’d say to Applejack. She chuckled.
“Hm?”
“Nothin’, hon,” Applejack said and finished off the mug. “But yeah, almost done. I was worried for a while when we couldn’t get enough hooves…” She edged closer, feeling warm. The tight, uncomfortable knots in her neck and back still bothered her, but they seemed less important. Twilight was with her, and so the focus of the room shifted.
“I’m just glad I could help. I was worried, you know. Timing.”
Applejack sighed; it was like a draft in the room. “Yeah.”
“But,” Twilight quickly continued, “it wasn’t a problem. I was here! It all worked out in the end, with a bit of creative scheduling.”
Applejack coughed. “Yeah. Could I ask you a favor?”
“Your back?”
“Yeah, actin’ up on me,” Applejack admitted, and she felt warm again. The conversation had shifted, carrying them away from the rock in the midst of rapids.
“I’m sorry… Sure, I’d love to.”
Twilight finished and stood. She smiled and headed back towards the stairs. She shot a mischievous glance over her shoulder, and Applejack followed with an expectant smile. The world was as it should be.
The creaking stairs gave way to hard wooden floor and the doorway to their bedroom. She thought of it that way, now. As theirs. Nothing was official, of course. Not yet. Not for a while yet, but in Applejack’s mind, it was comforting to think of it as already sealed. She thought about it as she placed her hat on the rack on the door.
As she lay on the soft bed, face down and legs sprawled, she felt and heard Twilight climbing on. It never failed to make her heart start, the way the bed sunk slightly to admit a new presence, how the pull of gravity shifted her, the knowledge that she was no longer alone. She couldn’t put it into words. Twilight was good for that—categorizing and naming things; giving Applejack handles for them.
She felt Twilight’s familiar warmth beside her.Her heart rate dropped like a boat motor easing off, and she drifted like a craft in still water as Twilight worked. She surrendered to the sensations that the massage conjured up, sighing with each push as Twilight’s hooves worked meticulously.
They were silent for a while as Twilight worked in the dim light, and Applejack closed her eyes. She felt warm again, and her mind went fuzzy.
Of course, it was Twilight who broke the comfortable silence that lay on them. “I’m pretty excited,” she said, and her voice bounced. Applejack’s happy buzz dissipated.
“Yeah?” she replied, her voice muffled by the pillow.
“Of course! It’s taken us quite a while, you know, getting the Griffon Lords to meet with the Emperor at all…” Twilight continued to knead, oblivious. “Oh, you have a knot. You worked hard today, AJ. I was really impressed.”
“Thankya.”
“But, yes, it’s taken a lot of groundwork and running around. I’ve been writing a lot of letters and doing a lot of research for the princesses into the history between these two…” Her voice droned on, and Applejack’s mouth—thankfully hidden—tightened into a thin line as slowly, reluctantly, she pushed the sound away. It was too much.
“...and oh! I almost forgot. I’m sorry about missing the last part of applebucking and harvest, Applejack. I know you understand though, right? It’s really important, you know. Like, really important, I just can’t blow it off.”
Really important. The words were like burrs that dug in and hung on. They’d been repeated many times before, always with that earnest look and those insistent tones. Serious words, and Twilight didn’t use them lightly. Applejack didn’t doubt that at all. But every time she disappeared into the library or to Canterlot or away on some quest, Applejack was left behind, still and silent. She was always waiting and far away. Applejack realized that for the first time in her life, she was dead weight.
It wasn’t true, of course. They cared for one another. They relied on each other, didn’t they? Applejack knew it was true. It was how it was supposed to be: a give and take, equal yokes.
She stirred.
Twilight scooted back. “Hm? You done?”
Applejack didn’t answer right away. She felt sick. It was an odd feeling, like being hung over the bed for too long. Like vertigo, only in my chest.
“Yeah… yeah, I think I am, sugarcube,” she mumbled. She yawned and stretched.
The bed moved again, and her heart leapt. A warm presence against her back,a kiss on her neck, and she shivered. She wanted to squirm, move away from the problem. But, more than that, she wanted to stay. She saw herself leaning back until she was flat against the bed.
Feelings warring inside her, Applejack remained still. Twilight continued her ministrations, precise hooves running along Applejack’s strong back. Kisses walked down Applejack’s spine, and she shivered. Her mouth fell open. Hot breath mixed with the cool nighttime air. She felt the stirrings, deep stirrings, familiar ones that called softly.
She leaned back, sighing, as Twilight nibbled.
“I know you’re stressed, AJ,” Twilight said. “I do wish I was here to help.”
“Ain’t a problem,” she said softly, but far too fast.
“Maybe. I still wish I could help you. Harvest is a big deal.”
“Very.” It was a murmur; perhaps not even that. Another nibble, and she sighed again as Twilight took her mane down with quiet reverence. It melted her resistance completely—shattered it. It was an old gesture. One that meant things. She smiled and looked into Twilight’s eyes when the mare came up for breath. They shared a look.
It was hard to escape love, and Applejack knew this as Twilight leaned down, and she surrendered to it. Because she needed it, and she was comforted.
❧
Applejack took a long shower in the morning.
She rested her head against the stone tile and let warm water cascade over her worn, toned back. Wet mane formed a canopy around her, the blond curtain cutting off the world for a moment so she could think. Or rather, so she could not think at all.
Thoughts swirled in her head. Responsibilities banged on the gate and tried to scale the walls. No matter how she tried to escape them, they were insistent. There was work to do. There were apples out there, waiting to be freed from their branches.
Mac’s got it covered. He can keep ‘em in line long enough for me to send off Twi. She sighed. The sensation of the water on her back was exquisite, but she couldn’t enjoy it. Her mind refused to be still. If it didn’t worry over the continuing harvest, it would think about Twilight. That was a knot she wasn’t prepared to untangle quite yet. She wanted to take her time with it—figure it out.
Water rolled down her chin, pooling on the tile below, and she knew it was time to get out. She’d stalled too long as it was.
So Applejack turned the water off and instantly regretted it. The cold air rushed back into her tiny shower sanctuary, and she shivered. A curse and a vigorous toweling later, she was searching for her hair ties and donning her trademark hat.
When she came downstairs, Twilight was sitting at the table in the kitchen, smiling at something. Applejack swept in, hat pulled up, and gave her a kiss. “You ready?”
“As ready as I can be! Thank you for seeing me off, AJ.”
“Of course, silly. Whatcha think I was gonna do?” She chuckled. “Anyhow, Twi, you know when these fancy ponies are showin’ up to collect ya?”
“Oh, any moment now. The Princess said she might be late, so I didn’t stress as much as usual,” she said, and Applejack raised an eyebrow. “Okay. I may have paced a little.”
“You’re adorable, y’know that?”
Twilight stuck her tongue out. “Am not.”
Applejack chuckled and craved coffee. Damn, Mac’s done drunk it all again. He knows I like more than a cup in the morning, big lump. She yawned and stretched.
“So, any time now?”
“Yep. Any moment.”
Applejack sighed. The odd mood of the day before had changed into something smaller and weaker. But how could she apologize for something Twilight had obliviously glossed over? She wanted to say that she understood. Lying in their bed, staring at the ceiling as Twilight softly snored beside her, she had thought it all over. Sometimes, a pony had to do things, and that was that. Sometimes, she couldn’t do things with Apple Bloom, no matter how much she wanted to. There were things on the farm that couldn’t be delayed.
So, as best she could, she understood. Applejack was a smart pony, but a specialized one. She dealt with numbers and trees, apples and weights. The way Twilight managed letters and proposals was foreign. But she could understand duty.
All of that did not translate into liking how things turned out.
“Shall we wait for them outside?” Twilight said, coming close and nuzzling against her cheek. Applejack smiled and returned the gesture. It was comforting, and her thoughts slowed.
“Sure, hon. I got all mornin’.”
“Are you sure? I know how important it is for you to be here.”
Do you? She shoved the thought down. Twilight had no way of knowing Apple family traditions. She wasn’t an Apple—not yet—and beyond that she was a unicorn. Different worlds. It really wasn’t her fault. “You’re right. It is important. But so are you, Twi.”
Twilight blushed a little, and any lingering annoyance in Applejack’s heart vanished. “That’s sweet of you,” she said, playful.
“I do try, y’know.”
❧
So they found themselves sitting at the gate, waiting with Twilight’s bags and books. Applejack found herself wondering about the time, but tried to push the need to know away. There was world enough and time for harvest. They had days left, and Macintosh could do a field by himself. She could afford to sacrifice a few hours of work and tradition for Twilight—she’d sacrifice more if it came to it. It was a small price to pay.
Twilight laid her head on Applejack’s shoulder.
It felt like she was already gone. It felt inevitable, like trying to stop gravity. Twilight was there already, in her mind. Family and farm were probably far away.
But of course, Twilight had no way of knowing. Applejack hadn’t explained her dreams. It just hadn’t occurred to her. She thought she would have time.
But there was no time. A shine in the sky announced the carriage’s arrival, and as it grew bigger, Twilight seemed farther away. The unicorn stirred against her, alert now. Alive.
The rest of it happened in a blur. The gilded carriage landed before the gate, with pegasus guards there to open the door and take Twilight’s bags. Twilight herself stood almost helpless for a moment, looking like she wanted to help. Applejack took her chance.
She kissed Twilight. “You come back soon, you hear? Y’all do what needs to be done, and you come back to me.”
“You know I will!”
“Of course. There ain’t any harm in remindin’ you though. You might forget, somewhere along the way. You do tend to get distracted. Tunnel vision, you know.”
Twilight rolled her eyes. “A few times where I got caught up in a book… I’ll miss you, AJ.”
“I’ll miss you too, Twi.”
Twilight’s earlier excitement faltered. She paused, looking down. “I am sorry about this, Applejack. I’d stay if I could.”
“I know you would. And it really is fine. Now go! Shoo. You got your stuff to do, an’ I got mine. I’ll see you soon, alright?” She wrapped Twilight up in a hug that lasted a long moment, and then Twilight was gone. She was in the carriage, waving as it carried her off, leaving Applejack alone at the gate.
Applejack stared up into the sky, watching Twilight get smaller and smaller. She was loathe to go back to work, but she did. A mare did what she had to.