> Twilight's Hearth's Warming Carol
>  by bats
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Hearth's Warming Eve
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Hearth’s Warming Eve


Twilight pulled off her Clover the Clever costume and draped the cloak on a rack. She stretched out her wings, ruffling the feathers before refolding them, and turned to her friends, all in various states of undress from the Hearth’s Warming Eve performance. She sighed in contentment and let her shoulders slump. “Great job, everypony. I think this year’s was even better than last year’s.”

“I’ll say.” Rainbow smirked and puffed out her chest. “I really like being Commander Hurricane. Something about her just speaks to me.”

Applejack stifled a snort and muttered low enough only Twilight could hear, “Ain’t surprised.”

Pinkie bounded away from a trunk with the Chancellor Puddinghead hat still on. “I sorta wish I didn’t have to be such a meanie pants, but it is fun to play somepony so much sillier than me!”

Twilight and Applejack exchanged an amused look, before Rarity, fixing her mane at a vanity, said, “It’s a shame we only got to perform in Canterlot the once; that stage was far more glamorous than Town Hall.”

“Oh, yeah,” Rainbow agreed. “And the crowd was huge!”

Fluttershy cringed and shied back. “It was still pretty big tonight…”

Grinning, Twilight turned back to her costume and straightened it on the rack. “I think I like doing it here better.”

Rarity glanced up from the vanity. “Really? But I remember you saying how much of an honor it was that Princess Celestia had asked us.”

“It was an honor. But…Ponyville is our home.” She looked over her friends, then walked to the window and smiled at the snowcapped shops surrounding town square. “ My home. And Hearth’s Warming is about the friendship and camaraderie you find in the ponies around you and, with those ponies, turning a little bit of land into Equestria together.” Her grin widened. “Canterlot’s beautiful, and I miss it sometimes, but performing here means more.”

“Oh, yuck,” Rainbow chuckled, flying close and ruffling Twilight’s mane. “You’re such a sap, egghead.”

Applejack laughed and snapped her costume’s trunk shut. “Sap or not, I get what she means. Ain’t nothin’ like spendin’ Hearth’s Warmin’ with your kin, blood or not.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a sap, too.”

“I could still lick ya at horseshoes.”

“Likely story.”

As they giggled at Rainbow and Applejack, Spike waddled into the dressing room from backstage, his costume folded up in his claws. “Hey, girls. Everypony else is gone now, and Princess Luna’s here.”

“Is she coming back here?” Rarity gave a fearful once-over to her mane, patting it into shape.

“No, she said to come get you so she could say hello.” Spike packed up his costume, then headed over to Twilight. He looked up at her with a solemn expression. “You sure you’re okay with me going, and you spending Hearth’s Warming alone?”

Smiling, Twilight hugged him. “I’ll be fine, Spike. I know how excited you are that Princess Celestia asked you to light the castle’s hearth in the morning; I don’t want to keep you from doing that.”

He leaned back from the hug. “Only if you’re sure, Twilight. Seems wrong for you to spend Hearth’s Warming all by yourself.”

“I’m sure, Spike. I’m going to sit at home, read, drink hot chocolate, and listen to carolers. It’s going to be perfect.” She let him go and checked that everypony had finished changing and packing. “Shall we go say hello?”

“Just a moment,” Rarity called, running a brush through her mane again.

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Ya look fine; c’mon.” Rarity yelped as Applejack dragged her out of her chair.

Twilight was the last to leave the dressing room, locking up and putting the key in the return drop for the mayor to collect. As she turned to join the others making their way towards the entrance, she found Applejack waiting back for her.

“Hey, sugarcube.”

“Hi, Applejack. You were great tonight; I love your Smart Cookie.”

Applejack smiled, falling into step next to Twilight. “Thank ya kindly. I like your Clover; she reminds me a’ you when everypony’s gone crazy.”

Giggling, Twilight teased, “So she reminds you of me all the time?”

Applejack shared the laugh. “Alright, so it’s pretty dang close to you all the time. Listen…” She stopped halfway up the aisle towards the door. Twilight glanced ahead, seeing Rarity file out behind the others into the snowy street, before turning back to Applejack. “I was wonderin’ if’n ya wanted to come to the farm for Hearth’s Warmin’ supper tomorrow, seein’ as you’re all on your lonesome.”

Twilight waved a hoof. “It’s like I said to Spike; I’ll be fine, Applejack. I don’t want to impose.”

“Ya wouldn’t be; I’d love ya to come.” Her eyes darted side to side. “I mean, uh…ya’d fit right in, an’ we’ll have plenty a’ food. No imposin’ at all.”

Twilight turned towards the door. “Thank you, but I’m sure you’d rather spend it with your family.”

As Twilight walked forward, Applejack said, “Yeah, family’s nice…” She sighed and dropped her voice, looking down at her hooves as she followed. “Blood or not.”

Twilight shut the door to Town Hall behind Applejack and smiled at the princess as she talked with the others. “It’s good to see you, Princess Luna!”

“And I you, Princess Twilight.” Luna smirked and winked. “I trust you have had a fine holiday so far?”

“Yes; the performance went over well.” The others nodded in agreement. “I’m looking forward to some peace and quiet tomorrow, too.”

Luna lowered down to let Spike up on her back, and paused, frowning at Twilight. “You are spending the day alone?”

Twilight waved her hoof again. “I keep telling everypony I’ll be fine; I was planning on reading The Gift of the Magi.”

Luna nodded, and her eyes met with Applejack’s, who turned away. “If you are quite certain, I shan’t discuss it more now, but the season is one of togetherness.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Rarity said, turning to Twilight. “Feel free to stop by tomorrow; Sweetie Belle, Pinkie Pie, the Cakes, and I will be caroling, and you’re welcome to join us.”

“I’m going to watch a Hearth’s Warming pageant performed by the critters, if you’d like to come see that, too, Twilight,” Fluttershy offered.

“And I’m leading the big bonfire in town; you should totally come to that, egghead.”

“Thanks, everypony,” Twilight giggled. “I appreciate it, but I don’t want to impose.” She cut off their protests, saying, “I look forward to hearing your carols when you stop by, but I’m happy to have a lazy day. Everypony should spend time with their families.”

Luna gave her a piercing look, before smiling. She turned to the others, then looked over her shoulder at Spike. “Well, Spike and I should be going if he hopes to be rested for the morning’s festivities.”

Twilight stepped forward and gave Spike a quick hug goodbye. “Thank you for coming and getting him tonight, so he could be in the performance.”

“You are most welcome. It was nice to see all of you again, and I shall see you soon. Some perhaps sooner than others.” As Twilight raised an eyebrow, she spread her wings and leapt into the air. They waved the two off as they sailed towards the sparkling glow of Canterlot Castle in the distance.

Rainbow left first towards her cloud home, calling, “See ya!” over her shoulder. Pinkie, Rarity, and Fluttershy sped off towards their own sources of warmth, while Twilight locked up Town Hall.

Applejack’s hoof settled on her shoulder. Twilight noticed a small tremor in the touch and frowned; it wasn’t like Applejack to get cold easily. “Ya sure ya won’t come to supper? I would like ya to be there.”

Twilight smiled and hugged Applejack around the neck. Her friend stiffened at the touch, but returned the affection before she thought anything of it. “Thank you, but really, I’ll be fine. If I get lonely, I‘ll remember your door’s open, but I’ll do my best to leave you be.”

Applejack nuzzled her cheek as she stepped back from the hug. “…Okay, sugarcube, if’n you’re sure. I’ll, uh…I’ll see ya, Twilight.” She waved and cantered off towards the farm as Twilight headed home.

As Twilight walked, a bounce entered her step and she found herself humming a carol. Her smile widened as she went, replaying the night’s performance in her head and enjoying the bite of winter on the tips of her ears. The wind rustled sleigh bells hung over doors, and she delighted in the holiday spirit, almost skipping the last few blocks back to the tree.

In the library, she stoked the fireplace to life in a glow of magic, and headed to the kitchen. Too excited to wait until morning, she made a mug of hot chocolate, grabbed a book, and curled up on the rug in front of the fireplace. She sipped her steaming cup, and cracked open the book, reading by the light of the burning logs.

The embers burned low before Twilight put her book down and dragged herself to her hooves. She put out the remains of the fire and shook out her legs, then walked to the window and gazed out into the night, watching fresh snow fall across the rooftops, grinning, feeling connected to the ponies of her town. Windigos would never reach Ponyville, not that Hearth’s Warming, not ever.

“Goodnight, home,” she whispered, and made her way upstairs, getting ready for bed and laying down with happy thoughts still filling her mind. She drifted off to sleep humming The Fire of Friendship.





Twilight’s ear twitched, and she sat up in bed. The bell in her wall clock chimed over and over, and she huffed, flinging back the covers. She tromped to the wall, assuming it had wound down, or the hands had gotten stuck at a bad time. She frowned and took a step back when she got close, watching the minute and hour hands whirl around the dial fast enough to rattle the clock against the tree.

The clock downstairs started clanging, and the bell over the door outside chimed to life.

Twilight flung her wings wide in surprise, stumbling back and falling to her haunches, searching the room for something that would cause all the bells in her house to ring. As fast as it started, the tree went quiet again, and she shook her head, wondering if she imagined the whole thing. She walked back to the wall clock.

“Eleven fifty-nine,” she read off the face. The minute hand jumped forward and the bell tinkled again. A dragging clatter echoed up from downstairs.

Twilight swallowed the lump in her throat and lit up her horn to cast light around the room. “Is…is somepony there?” The sound grew louder, punctuated by the thunk of metal on wood, as something lurched up the stairs. “Hello?”

The door burst open, and Luna fell forward onto the floor, wrapped up in heavy chains. “Oh, for the sake of the moon,” she growled, kicking off the chains as best she could. “Why would you associate ghostly visitations with chains, Twilight Sparkle? That’s not even old fashioned, it’s just strange.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Princess Luna?” she deadpanned, descending to the lower loft. “What are you doing back in Ponyville so soon?”

With one last buck, the chain wrapped around Luna’s flanks sailed to a bookshelf with a thundering crash, knocking half the books onto the floor. As Twilight rushed to pick them up, Luna chuckled at her. “Do not bother yourself, for I am not actually here; you’re in a dream, Twilight.”

Twilight stopped and sat down. “Ohhh, I heard that you could visit ponies in their dreams! That does make more sense. Wait.” She jumped to her hooves. “Is everything okay? Nothing bad happened to Spike and you needed to get in touch with me right away, did it?” She pranced in place.

“No, no, calm yourself; we arrived safely and Spike is sleeping in your old suite.” She quirked an eyebrow and looked off in the distance. “…He seems to be dreaming of eating more buckets of ice cream than his body weight.”

Twilight let out a breath and giggled. “He loves that dream.” She straightened up. “So then, if everything’s okay…?”

“Oh, but everything is not okay, Twilight. For you see…” Luna pointed an accusatory hoof at her. “You have forgotten the spirit of Hearth’s Warming.”

Twilight blinked. She sat down heavily and let out a groan. “Is this about me being alone tomorrow? Ugh. I said I’m fine, and it’s not like I forgot about friendship.” She flapped her wings at Luna. “Princess of Friendship, remember?”

Luna cleared her throat and looked away. “Well, perhaps it is an overstatement to say you’ve forgotten.” She grumbled to herself and tapped her hooves together. She let out a sheepish, “My apologies,” before straightening. “But you have missed something important, something intrinsic to ponies everywhere, that is at least tangentially related to the spirit of Hearth’s Warming.”

“Really? What is it?”

Luna blanched, and tapped her hooves together again. “…I am afraid I cannot say.”

Twilight rubbed the bridge of her muzzle with a hoof and tried to keep the exasperation out of her voice. “Why not?”

“I made a unique and powerfully magical promise named after your pink friend, and I fear the repercussions of breaking such an oath.” A shiver ran up her spine.

Twilight nodded and let out a sigh. “Yes, don’t break a Pinkie Promise.” She gave Luna a forlorn look. “So, if you can’t tell me what it is, why are you telling me at all?”

“Ah!” Luna jumped to her hooves. “But I do not need to tell you directly, so much as show you truths, from your past, from the present, and from the future, too.” She swung out a hoof as if commanding a battalion. “Tonight, you shall be visited by three spirits.”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

Luna winced, dropping her hoof and giving Twilight an irritated glare. “Dream, Twilight.”

“Oh, right.”

“Anyway,” she snorted, “these three spirits shall take you on a journey of memory, of things that have happened and things yet to come.”

“Fascinating. I’ve read about memory magic containing ways to view possible futures, but it was all so complicated and subtle I didn’t think I’d ever see it in action.” She clacked her hooves together. “This is exciting!”

“Yes, well, please try to pay attention to what the spirits are showing you; they’re bound by this same oath and won’t be able to talk about it until it’s no longer a secret kept from you.” Luna offered Twilight a knowing grin, before turning towards the stairs.

Twilight grabbed her shoulder. “Um…Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this, Princess Luna? You’re purposefully circumventing a Pinkie Promise by having me get visited by ghosts?” She shrugged at Luna.

Chuckling, Luna sat down and crossed her forelegs. “Just a moment ago you were excited to see the subtleties of memory magic.”

Twilight cleared her throat. “Yes, well…”

Luna laughed again. “Oh, do not worry yourself, Twilight. You see, this specific spell has a long history tied to Hearth’s Warming, going back before the days of me and my sister. I am doing this because I wish to help. I am helping in this manner because tradition dictates as such.”

Slumping her wings, Twilight sighed. “You know I hate silly traditions that don’t have a reason, right?”

“Oh, fret not,” she teased. “Just remember how ‘fascinating’ this frivolity is. Enjoy yourself, Twilight; this is not an everyday experience.”

“Alright…thanks, I guess.”

“You are most welcome. I shall go about casting the necessary enchantments, and bid you a fond evening, Twilight. The first spirit shall arrive at the stroke of one. Until we see each other again, farewell!” As she waved over her shoulder, her hoof caught on the chains and sent them tumbling down the stairs. She laid her ears flat against the sound. “…And do consider dispelling your associations between ghosts and chains, please?”

Twilight chuckled as Luna descended the staircase, watching the princess of night’s body grow translucent and insubstantial. On the fourth riser down, she was gone. Twilight turned and climbed back to her loft, sitting on the bed and waiting for the first visitor to appear. After a few minutes, she lay down and closed her eyes.




> The Ghost of Hearth's Warming Past
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Past


Twilight’s eyes snapped open as the clock chimed. She sat up and looked around her dark bedroom, ears swiveling, searching for the rattle of chains.

“Look out below!” Twilight flinched and flipped around to her picture window just as it exploded, shards of glass tinkling to the floor. She let out a bark of air as something slammed into her belly, flinging her off the bed to tumble across the floor.

The quivering little body she had instinctually wrapped herself around as protection leapt off of her. “That….was awesome!”

Twilight rubbed her face and sat up, coming snout to snout with a glowing filly, hovering off the floor on excited wingbeats. The filly flipped her colorful mane away from her eyes and crossed her forelegs across her chest.

Twilight rubbed her face again. “R…Rainbow Dash?”

“Nope! I’m the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Past, and you’re the egghead I’m supposed to talk some sense into.” The filly Dash doppelganger settled on the floor and puffed out her chest.

Twilight shook her head and looked the ghost over. She appeared to be eight or nine; the same age as her friends’ sisters, and although Twilight had never seen any photos of Rainbow Dash as a filly, the likeness was undeniable: her rainbow mane a mess, complete with glittering bits of glass, a challenging smirk on her lips, and blank flank just waiting to win a race and discover her true calling. The only out of place feature was the white light that emanated from her coat, lighting up the room and giving the ghost a commanding presence perfectly at home with her appearance.

“…You’re Rainbow Dash.”

The ghost snorted and prodded Twilight in the forehead. “I’m the spirit of Hearth’s Warming nostalgia; the excitement, fun, joy, and—and awesomeness of what Hearth’s Warming is like when you’re a foal. Of course I look like Rainbow Dash as a filly.”

Twilight couldn’t help but grin. “Alright, you make an excellent point, spirit.”

“Course I do!” She leapt in the air in a backflip, raining shards of glass on the floor, and landed at a strut. “So are you ready to go?” She turned to the broken window and spread her wings. “Follow me, Princess Egghead.”

Giggling, Twilight unfurled her wings and chased the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Past out of her room and into the sky. Ponyville, dark in the early morning with curls of smoke rising from a few chimneys, rushed beneath them as they soared away, over the town square, across the river, and off into the Everfree Forest. As they flew, a ball of light spread in front of them.

“Is that where we’re going? What is that?”

“The past! C’mon, last one there’s a cockatrice egg!” She zoomed ahead, and Twilight beat her wings to keep up.

The light expanded across the sky as Twilight flew, engulfing her in whiteness. She blinked to clear her vision, and found herself circling high above Canterlot, with the ghost right in front of her. Her grin widened. “There’s my parents’ house! Is that where we’re going?”

“Gotta start somewhere.” With a wink, the ghost grabbed Twilight around the neck and pulled her into a dive at breakneck speeds.

Twilight yelped and clapped her hooves over her eyes as the roof of her house came closer with alarming quickness. She braced for a crash, but found herself set gently on all fours. She sunk to the floor and let out a shaky breath.

The Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Past clapped her hooves over her muzzle, straining to hold back laughter. It was an exercise in futility, and she fell to the floor, kicking her legs and howling. “Oh, man, you should’a seen your face!”

Twilight sighed and got to her hooves, offering the ghost a glare that was diminished by the smile on her face, and looking around the room.

She stood in the kitchen where she grew up. A rush of smells hit her snout as she watched her mother, a decade and a half younger, bustle about the room preparing dinner, and the memories tied to the scents staggered her. Her grin widened and she inhaled, remembering meals and packed lunches, midnight snacks under the covers with a flashlight and a book, foalsitting days with Cadence, all in a hazy blur.

“Mmm, it smells good,” was all she could say.

“Your mom can’t—”

“Hear me, yes I know; this is a memory. We’re observers seeing shadows of the past, correct?”

The ghost huffed and glared. “Well aren’t you little miss Princess Smarty-pants.”

Twilight turned to the sound of hoofsteps entering the room, and her eyes widened. “Smarty-pants!” She watched a little filly enter the room, and was struck with vertigo; it was impossible that she herself was ever that small. Yet there she was, fresh-faced with her snout in a book, cradling her favorite doll in the crook of a leg, which drew her attention. She didn’t remember Smarty ever looking so clean and neat.

The ghost groaned and rubbed the bridge of her muzzle. “For the love of—you named your doll Smarty-pants? You’re the eggheadiest egghead ever.”

Twilight stuck her tongue out at the ghost, and watched her little self sit at the table and devour the book. Her smile faded as she glanced around the room, watching it slowly fill with others: first her father, joining in with the cooking, then her brother and Cadence sitting at the table next to her. She tried to place the year, but none of the conversation triggered any memories.

“Oh wow,” the little Twilight exclaimed, slapping her book down, “teleporting magic sounds amazing! I can’t wait to learn how!” Her horn flicked sparks, but she stayed firmly in place, pouting out her lip. She picked her book back up and scrutinized the page.

“I remember now,” Twilight said to herself. “…I would’ve remembered earlier if I looked at the book.” She sat down in the middle of the room and watched her family put together dinner, singing half-remembered carols, setting the table, talking and laughing, while the tiny filly stayed buried in knowledge. She listened to the conversations in earnest, building a new memory from the shadows.

Twilight turned to the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Past. “Spirit, I understand what I missed as a filly already. I spent most of my life without friends, without seeing the point in having them, but I learned that lesson already.” She took a step towards the glowing Rainbow Dash. “When you and the others—I mean…when my friends came to find me in the ancient castle of the Royal Pony Sisters, when Nightmare Moon almost won and I was at my lowest…I realized it then. That spark, that meaning of friendship: the spirit of Hearth’s Warming. I felt it in my heart then, and I’ve lived every day of my life afterwards keeping that spark alive.”

She turned back to the scene before her. Cadence and Shining were holding hooves under the table, but she thought they needn’t have bothered; she was engrossed in a book, hardly noticing what she ate, while her parents were engrossed in each other. Twilight Velvet and Night Light had a boisterous, vivacious marriage, that earned plenty of ‘ewws’ over the years from both herself and her brother, and it was no surprise to see them so close.

Twilight blinked, and the room changed. The food was different, the ponies around the table a little older: Twilight an inch or three taller, Shining sporting acne at the temple, a wisp more gray in her mother’s mane, but for everything different, nothing had changed.

“…I’ve learned this lesson already, spirit. I know what I’ve missed, and it’s a mistake I’ll never make again.”

“You’re still missing something, Princess Egghead.” The spirit bounded forward and circled the table.

Twilight frowned and looked again. Her brow knit. Shining and Cadence playing hoofsies under the table, her parents talking in grins, giggles, and batted eyelashes, and herself with eyes glued to a different book. The scene changed again, and again, a flurry of years forward in moments, first as a school filly, then as the Princess’ personal student home for the holidays, she watched cutie marks bloom on her brother, her foalsitter, and last on herself as the time rushed away like sand through an hourglass. So many missed memories, so much lost time. She folded her ears back and sighed.

“…I swear to you, I swear on Celestia, I will never make these mistakes again.” She straightened and glared at the ghost, as the little copy of Rainbow flew around the room in bored loops. “But one day letting others be with their families is not me backsliding! I won’t ever be that recluse I used to be again! I’ve already changed and that life is behind me.”

The spirit groaned and clattered to the floor. “Ugh! For such a know-it-all egghead, you’re dumb as a box of pony feathers! It’s obvious; don’t you see the—” The ghost’s tongue stretched out of her mouth and she clapped her lips shut, breathing gibberish out her snout. She glared daggers at Twilight and plopped onto her haunches. “I can’t even explain it thanks to this stupid promise! Alright, featherhead, if you’re not getting it here, c’mon, let’s jump ahead a ways.”

The spirit extended a wing and snapped her feathers together. The room vanished in blinding white, and Twilight lurched to the side, feeling like she’d been lassoed around the middle and dragged through space. A rush of sights, sounds, and smells spun in a dizzying cascade around her, until they resolved as the interior of Canterlot Castle.

Twilight grinned again. She stood in the dressing room after the Hearth’s Warming Eve performance they had put on for the capital, and she giggled at her friends all bickering over the open window. “I remember this! How could I forget my second Hearth’s Warming Eve after moving to Ponyville? I still remember how thrilled I was Princess Celestia asked us to perform in Canterlot. Oh, and we’re still fighting!” She laughed louder.

“You think that’s funny, watch this!” The spirit dove through the window, inhaled a gulp of air, and let out a tremendous howl. Twilight’s eyes widened as she looked around the room, the ephemeral sound piercing through, as if in the distance. The argument stopped.

“You know what? I got it.” The full grown Rainbow Dash flew to the open windows and snapped them shut, to the amusement of the others. Rainbow flew back, laughing with the rest of them, and the conversation shifted to complimenting each other’s performances.

Twilight turned to the spirit as she floated back through the closed window. “That was you? You made the windigo sound?”

“Maybe, or maybe I just knew what was gonna happen and wanted to howl; you’ll never know for sure.” She grinned wickedly at Twilight, landing with a clatter. “But maybe I’ll tell you if you pay really close attention to this, miss Brainy-dumb-dumb.”

Twilight rolled her eyes and turned back to her friends, reliving their conversation, overlaying the one from a few hours previously, delighting in her own demeanor: engaged with others, talking and laughing, her true self, with the shadow of her lonely past behind her and forgotten.

Fluttershy yawned, covering her mouth with a hoof. “Oh, excuse me, sorry.” She rubbed at her eye. “I’m not used to being up this late, and…” She took a deep breath, and released it, slumping her shoulders. “Seeing all those ponies took a lot out of me.”

“Perfectly understandable, dear.” Rarity patted her shoulder. “You were splendid anyway, but it is rather late. Shall we go find our rooms?”

“Psh, I’m not tired,” Rainbow boasted, flying back to the windows. “But I heard flying at night around the mountain is really awesome. I’ll catch you guys later.”

“Have fun!” Pinkie called through a yawn as Rainbow blasted out into the night air, her wake pulling the window shut behind her. “I’m a sleepyhead, too.”

Twilight smiled at them, lifting the fallen bits of costume up in a glow of magic. “You girls go ahead. I’ll finish putting things away; I’m used to late nights. I’ll see everypony in the morning!”

A chorus of ‘goodnights’ was marred by Applejack interjecting an, “I’ll help ya get packed up.” The others filed out while she approached Twilight.

“Oh, it’s okay, Applejack. I know you’re used to really early mornings, not late nights.”

“Don’t worry none, sugarcube.” Applejack grabbed the latch of a trunk in her teeth and pulled it open. “I’m so fired up from the play I’m fit to toss an’ turn, anyway; might as well burn some of it off lendin’ a hoof.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” Twilight lowered the scraps of clothing into the trunk, and Applejack snapped it shut. “I’m pretty excited still, too. I’m probably gonna be up reading for a while.”

“I always like hearin’ that story again. I was kinda sad Ponyville didn’t have one last year, but everythin’ got so crazy after Princess Luna came back it was a wonder we got winter started on time.”

Twilight smirked, sliding the full trunk back to the wall and an empty one into its place with magic. “That was a busy year, wasn’t it? I love the story, too, though. It was such an interesting part of history, especially for Clover the Clever and her life after studying under Starswirl the Bearded.” She floated the next set of garments into the trunk, her smile falling as Applejack snapped it shut. “I’m probably boring you.”

“Are you kiddin’?” Applejack sent the trunk to the wall with a kick. “I always loved hearin’ about history; it was my favorite subject as a filly. Plus, well, you know a bit about how my family helped get Ponyville started; I don’t think you can rightly be an Apple without likin’ it.” She chuckled, circling the room to pick up the odds and ends strewn about.

“Really? That’s great! I never get to talk to anypony about history. Even in school, all my classmates hated it and just wanted to learn practical application magic.”

“Any time ya wanna talk about it, I’m your mare. I read so dang much about Smart Cookie, but I ain’t heard nothin’ about Clover, ‘sides from her bein’ a close friend a’ Cookie’s.”

Twilight helped put everything else into place, and turned towards the door. “We’ll have to talk about it sometime; I know a lot about Clover, but not very much about Cookie.” She trotted forward before a hoof caught her shoulder.

“We should. Ya wanna grab dinner with me back in Ponyville?”

“That sounds great! We’ll have to keep it to ourselves so we don’t bore everypony else.”

“Everypony else?”

The ghost prodded the real Twilight in the shoulder, and she knit her brow looking over the scene. She remembered the conversation, and the dinner afterwards in a café back in Ponyville, swapping history stories with Applejack while the others rolled their eyes and talked about other things she didn’t pay attention to. Her frown deepened and she scrutinized the two.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun! There’s that new restaurant that just opened up, and I’m sure the girls would love it after all this Canterlot lifestyle stuff.”

“That…that sounds great, sugarcube. I’m sure everypony’s gonna love it, too.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow, watching Applejack talk with her past self. “That’s funny. Applejack seems…sad. She’s smiling, and I remember having a good time later, but she’s sad about something.”

“Well,” her former self said, “it looks like we’re all set in here, you ready to get to sleep?”

“Sure thing, Twilight. Lead the way; I get all turned around when I ain’t outside.”

As the two left, Twilight could see Applejack smile, but knew it wasn’t genuine. The lanterns around the room snuffed as the door shut behind them, leaving the only source of light the glowing body of the spirit. She turned to the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Past. “…I don’t get it.”

“Ugh.” The ghost clapped a hoof to her forehead and sunk to her haunches. “Use that big, stupid brain of yours, will ya?”

Twilight rubbed her chin. “…I assume you’re trying to show me something about Applejack, and why she seemed sad just then…” She looked to the spirit for assurance, but the little copy of Rainbow was looking pointedly away and biting her lip. “You’re not allowed to say anything about it at all until I get it, huh?”

“Not one word. Stupid promise.”

Twilight found herself nodding in agreement, and sighed. “Did I offend Applejack somehow? She didn’t look angry, and we had such a good time at dinner back in Ponyville…that was a great conversation; I’ll have to remember to talk history with her again soon.” She shook her head, refocusing on the task. “…I don’t know what I’m missing here. Is there another memory you can show?”

The spirit let out a heavy breath and glared at her. “Sorry, this is the end of the line for me. You should hope the next ghost has more luck, Princess Rocks-for-brains.”

Twilight crossed her hooves and lifted her snout. “Excuse me for not figuring out whatever secret message you, Princess Luna, and two other ghosts are trying to tell me without telling me anything!”

“Yeah, yeah. I shouldn’t be surprised, ‘cause you would’a figured this out without ghosts if you were looking for it. Just…think about stuff. The stuff I showed you, and other stuff you remember from the past couple years.”

Twilight smirked, lowering her snout. “Is Rainbow Dash really telling me to think?”

The ghost offered a challenging glare, lowering down into a fighting crouch. “I’m not Rainbow Dash.” She opened a wing and snapped her feathers together.

Twilight sat up in bed. She looked around the room, noting the window was intact in its frame. She pushed off the covers and walked to her clock.

“Eleven-fifteen,” she read, raising an eyebrow. She walked to the edge of the loft and peered down to the floor below. The books Luna had knocked down were back in place, and she had a passing twinge of discomfort, unsure if she was asleep or awake. She shook her head and fluffed out her feathers, turning back to the bed.

“One spirit down, no answers, two more to go.” She let out a breath and climbed under the covers. She closed her eyes, thinking of the hidden hurt in Applejack’s expression.




> The Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Present
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Present


The clock rang, and Twilight heard a crash downstairs. She tossed back the blankets and sighed. “Luna?” she called, opening her wings and gliding down to the lower loft. “Did you get caught up in some chains again?”

A clatter of movement sounded again, followed by a bubbly voice crying back, “Don’t you have any cupcakes?!”

Twilight smiled to herself and headed down into the main room of the library and towards the kitchen. “Pinkie Pie? What’re you doing here in the middle of the…”

As she rounded the doorway, Pinkie Pie filled her vision. Her friend took up the whole room, stooping her head with her shoulders pressed to the ceiling, knocking over the table and chairs as she turned to Twilight. “C’mon in, so we can be friends!” she said, grinning at Twilight. “I’m the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Present! C’mon in; I wanna be your friend!” She giggled lyrically, and the smile returned to Twilight’s face.

“You look just like my friend, Pinkie, spirit. You’re much bigger, though.”

“Oh, yeah, probably too big, huh? I’m such a silly filly.” As she spoke, the spirit shrank in size, stopping a few inches taller than Twilight. The extra height gave her a more robust build than the real Pinkie, but she exuded a sense of warmth and bounty to match the real thing. As Twilight looked her over, she thought this Pinkie was a few years younger than the first time she had met her friend. Not a filly, but in the dawning years of adulthood: cutie mark still new, with boundless possibilities at her hooves.

“I just get so excited, Twilight! It’s Hearth’s Warming Day right now! Carols, and jingle bells, and cakes, and hot apple cider! It’s so wonderful, and magical, and when I think about it I just start to—” She shot up another foot in height, giggling and dancing on her hooves.

Twilight joined the laughter, stepping into the kitchen. “I can see why you took the form of Pinkie Pie. She really is Hearth’s Warming come to life.”

“Well that’s just perfect then, because I’m the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Present! Or did I tell you that already?” She frowned and tapped her chin, looking up at the ceiling as she shrunk back down to her smaller size. “I get so mixed up sometimes, because I’m so busy with what’s going on right now!” She scrutinized Twilight and grinned. “Hi! C’mon in, so we can be friends!”

Twilight laughed again. “I think we already are friends, spirit, but it’s nice to meet you pony to pony. Hearth’s Warming is one of my favorite holidays already.”

Laughing and dancing in place, the ghost nodded. “I know you love it, but you’re such a spacey casey that you still missed something important!”

Twilight let out an exasperated huff. “And you can’t just tell me what it is, either, can you?”

“Nope!” The spirit bounded past Twilight into the main room of the library. “So let’s get started! It’s already Hearth’s Warming Day!”

Twilight followed with a grin on her face. “But it’s the middle of the night, spirit, nopony’s awake—” The ghost flung open the front door and sunlight poured into the room. Twilight could hear the rustling of sleigh bells in the wind, and the excited chatter of ponies talking while crunching through the packed snow. “—Yet.”

“C’mon, let’s go see what everypony’s doing!”

Frowning, Twilight turned around and looked over at the fireplace. The logs crackled and cast warmth into the room, and there she was herself, curled up by the fire with a book floating in front of her muzzle and a hot chocolate steaming by her foreleg. She smiled at herself, but a squirming sense of discomfort entered her belly. “…I’m not blocking everypony out; I’m just having a quiet day to myself. I love my friends, and I’d never disappear into books forever. Everypony’s allowed time to themselves.”

The Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Present grabbed her around the neck and pulled her outside. “Come on, silly, there’s stuff to do! Ponies to see! It’s Hearth’s Warming!”

Twilight grinned as the spirit let go and bounded off through the street. She followed behind, catching bits of carols and pieces of conversation as the citizens of Ponyville swarmed the streets, tossing snowballs and sharing news, exchanging last minute gifts, and taking joy in the holiday. A bounce entered her step as she went, and she hummed along with songs as they passed groups singing at doorways. Her stomach grumbled at the smell of chocolate, and she thought she might postpone her planned reading for the day when she woke up by going into town, finding a shop that was open, and getting a thick slice of fudge.

A call broke her reverie. “We’re almost to the first stop! Hurry up, slow-poke!”

Twilight giggled and sped around a corner to meet the ghost. “I was just enjoying the day; I love Hearth’s Warming and—”

“Rarity!” the spirit called out, running past Twilight towards Carousel Boutique. “I’m here, so get your lazy bones up!”

Twilight blinked in surprise, and a second Pinkie Pie walked up giggling at her. “I do look like her, huh?”

Chuckling at herself, Twilight watched the real Pinkie bang on the door to her friend’s home. “You do. You look more like her now than you did earlier.”

“I’m coming, Pinkie Pie, calm down!” Rarity called from inside.

“But it’s Hearth’s Warming right now!”

Twilight laughed louder. “Oh, Pinkie Pie.” She turned to the spirit and smirked. “So are we watching them carol? Are you trying to guilt me because I said I wouldn’t go with them?”

“If I told you, I’d be chea~ting!” the spirit sing-songed, leaping forward as Rarity opened the door. She and Sweetie Belle stepped into the street in matching scarves.

“Honestly, Pinkie dear, nopony is going anywhere, and we’ll have plenty of time to carol.”

“I know, I know,” she said, bouncing in place, “but I wanna sing!”

Rarity giggled at her friend. “Well, where are the Cakes, then? We can’t get started without them.”

“Pumpkin and Pound were being grouchy-pantses. I said I’d dump a bag of flour on my head to get ‘em happy, but Mrs. Cake said they’d catch up in a minute.” She danced on her hooves. “But it’s been a minute now, and they’re not here yet, and I wanna sing!”

Sweetie Belle stared at Pinkie like she was about to catch on fire. Both Twilight and Rarity caught the look and stifled snorts at the same time.

Rarity cleared her throat primly, covering the unladylike noise. She looked out into the bustling streets and smiled. “Well, there’s no need to panic, that’s them coming now.”

Twilight turned to watch Mr. and Mrs. Cake approach together, bundled up against the cold and each carrying a twin fast asleep in a sling around their necks. They grinned at Pinkie’s constant bouncing, and waved at Rarity.

“Sorry for the delay,” Mrs. Cake said, casting an amused glance at her employee. “These two can be a hoofful.”

“Quite alright, Mrs. Cake. I know all about hooffuls.” She smirked and prodded Sweetie Belle in the shoulder.

“Hey!” Sweetie protested, sticking her tongue out at her older sister. “You’re the pain in the flank, not me!”

Rarity giggled. “I’m kidding, Sweetie dear; you are an absolute angel.” As Sweetie smiled brightly, she muttered under her breath, “Or demonic force; it depends on the day.” She turned back to the Cakes. “Will you be alright caroling with them sleeping like that, or will we wake them up?”

“Oh, they’re gonna be down for a while,” Mr. Cake assured, wriggling the sling. Pound jostled back and forth, the barest hint of a creased brow the only sign that anything happened at all. “Cup and I put them through the routine.”

Pinkie gasped. “I missed it?! I love the routine!”

Mr. Cake offered her an amused glare. “Yes, well, when you’re there it takes twice as long because you won’t stop laughing.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “The routine?”

Pinkie started giggling again, and Mrs. Cake sighed. “The best way to get the twins down is to laugh them to sleep, and they both enjoy slapstick, so Carrot and I came up with the routine to get them down quickly and thoroughly.”

As she spoke, Mr. Cake winced and rubbed a sore spot on his flank.

Trying to stifle her snorts, Pinkie said, “It’s so funny!”

Mr. Cake pointed an accusatory hoof and teased, “But if you’re the one laughing, the twins look at you like something terrible’s happened and won’t sleep!”

Tittering, Rarity locked up the boutique. “Shall we go singing, then? Poor Pinkie was ready to explode a moment ago.”

“Oh my gosh, I almost forgot; it’s Hearth’s Warming, let’s go singing, let’s go singing!” She bounded away, squealing in delight.

Rarity giggled and tapped her sister’s shoulder. “Are you ready to grace the town with your divine singing?”

Pink dots colored her cheeks, and she fiddled with her hooves. “…Thanks, sis.”

“No need to thank me; it’s absolutely true. Let’s go, before Pinkie notices we’re not following and starts dragging us by force.”

Twilight grinned as the group turned to follow Pinkie, watching Sweetie walk beside Rarity a little closer than normal while she shadowed them.

Mr. Cake’s hoof caught on a rock, and he stumbled sideways into his wife. A whine escaped from Pound while Mrs. Cake steadied him and they froze, holding their breath. He smacked his lips and nestled back into the sling. “Whew, that was close.”

“You just need to watch where you’re going, dear,” Mrs. Cake teased, bumping her flank against his.

Mr. Cake laughed and bumped her back. “I’m disoriented; there aren’t any rocks inside a bakery.”

Giggling, his wife kissed him on the cheek and pressed her side into him. “We do work too much, Carrot. Pinkie’s getting more reliable by the day…maybe we should consider giving her more time by herself in the shop and taking some time for us.”

Mr. Cake shivered. “I have faith in her baking, and she always has strong sales, but her cleaning leaves something to be desired. Did you know that after our last date night, I found a pancake cooked to the ceiling?”

Her steps faltered, and he pulled ahead. She rushed to catch back up. “What do you mean cooked to the ceiling?”

“It wasn’t just stuck; it was burned onto the stucco. I had to scrape it off. No, don’t ask me how, I don’t know.”

Mrs. Cake giggled and shook her head. “Maybe we can find somepony to help some days.” Her husband sighed, and she continued, “I know; wages don’t grow on trees.” She nuzzled his neck. “Getting out of the shop during the day sounds so nice, though.” She nuzzled again, strong enough to push him off-balance.

Mr. Cake grinned at her, and leaned in close. The whisper carried to Twilight, though she suspected it was a trick of the memory more than the wind. “Maybe we’ll just take longer lunches.”

His tone of voice, combined with Mrs. Cake’s knowing chuckle, brought a blush to Twilight’s cheeks. She stepped closer to Rarity and Sweetie Belle, thinking the couple deserved their privacy even if she wasn’t actually there.

“Hey, Rarity?”

“Yes, Sweetie dear?”

“Can I ride on your back?”

Rarity paused, and a hint of distaste wrinkled her muzzle. “You’re not tired already, are you?”

“No…” She looked down at her hooves. “I just…nevermind.”

As she looked over her little sister, a small smile spread on her lips. She held out a hoof to stop Sweetie, and lowered herself towards the ground. Sweetie squeaked and climbed up on Rarity’s back, hugging her around the neck. Rarity’s grin widened and she sped her pace to catch up with Mr. and Mrs. Cake. She could see Pinkie ahead at their first house, practically vibrating as she beckoned them closer.

Twilight turned to talk to the spirit, but the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Present wasn’t following them. Creasing her brow, she scanned the street, and spotted the ghost standing at a vendor’s booth, smelling candied almonds. She chuckled and went back for her.

The ghost grabbed a hoofful of nuts and tossed them in her mouth. “Figure it out yet?” she asked between chomps.

Twilight paused in her step and frowned. “…Two families out and about, being together…how is this different from reminding me that Hearth’s Warming is about togetherness? And if I joined them, I’d be welcome like Pinkie, but it wouldn’t change anything for them. So…no, no I haven’t.”

The ghost swallowed her mouthful and let out a huff, pinning her ears down and giving Twilight an exasperated glare. For reasons Twilight couldn’t put her hoof on, the look reminded her less of her friend, and more of her mother.

Twilight glared back, and let out a heavy sigh. “What’s next? Watching Fluttershy watch her animals put on a Hearth’s Warming pageant, and seeing how close she is to all of them? Joining Rainbow Dash at the bonfire, and see all the families in attendance be close? Then close out the night by going to see the dinner I could be at by imposing on Applejack’s invitation?”

As the words left her mouth, Twilight straightened. “Or should we stop dancing around the issue and just go see Applejack first, since I know whatever this is about has more to do with her than anypony else.”

The spirit’s face paled, and she cast a nervous eye around. “I didn’t say anything about Applejack, no sirree.”

“No, but the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Past wanted me to pay attention to Applejack, and when I mentioned her again just now, your ear flicked. This is about Applejack, isn’t it?”

The spirit’s eye twitched. Twilight watched a coat button form on her upper lip, and her lower lip stretch up to fasten her mouth shut. Twilight huffed. “Okay, you can’t tell me if I’m right, which means I’m right. So let’s just skip the other parts and go see Applejack.”

The spirit’s eyes darted fitfully up and down the street, and she took a step back. Twilight scrutinized her, brow knitting and a thoughtful frown growing stronger on her face. “…We weren’t going to see Applejack at all, were we?”

Beads of sweat formed on the ghost’s brow.

“…Because if I see her…whatever secret she made Princess Luna Pinkie Promise to keep will be spoiled, and you’re worried that just showing me is tantamount to breaking the promise, correct?”

A whimper escaped the ghost’s muzzle. In a flash, she went stock-still and her face vanished from her head, leaving a blank field of pink in its place. Twilight gasped, then started giggling. “You have a terrific poker face. Well, I’m going to Sweet Apple Acres to see Applejack and get to the bottom of this. You aren’t taking me there, and if you follow me, it’s only because it’s where I’m going. Logically, then, you’re not the one who is spoiling the promise: I am.”

Pinkie’s face gradually faded back onto the spirit in a considering grimace. Twilight watched the laugh lines crinkle the corners of the ghost’s eyes as she rubbed her chin. The spirit nodded. “Alright, Twilight, lead the way.”

Smiling in satisfaction, Twilight turned around and set off through the street at a trot, the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Present close behind her. As they weaved through town, Twilight’s cheerful mood returned, and she watched the ponies around her having fun. She considered changing her plans for the following day and joining Pinkie and the others for caroling after they stopped at the library, but she held off making the mental check mark until she got to the root of the dream. They crossed the stream, and headed down the road towards her friend’s farm.

Making their way through the groves, the leaves and fruit of all the trees replaced with snow, uneasiness tugged at Twilight. The look of sadness bubbling beneath the surface from the memory played through her head, and dark thoughts nagged at her. She let out a groan, fearing she had offended one of her best friends. If she had, Applejack had shown no sign to her since then, either at the dinner back in Ponyville, or any day since. She replayed every time she had seen Applejack in recent memory.

Applejack was nothing if not dependable. Twilight recalled countless times her friend had been there to help out around the library or when any of the others needed a sturdy pair of shoulders or no-nonsense plan of action, regardless of the season and chore load on the farm. When Applebuck Season arrived, Applejack came to them, asking for help, ‘but only if ya ain’t busy,’ and she had gladly returned countless favors over the course of weeks, clearing the heavy crop with Applejack, sometimes with the others, sometimes just the two of them.

Applejack always had a smile for her. In a city beset by constant dramatics, there was always one pony she could turn to who could help. Applejack planned the same way she did, with a different knowledge base, and stubborn where she could be panicky. They made a great team.

The fear that she had upset Applejack made her coat stand on end. She hurried her pace as the farmhouse came into view, and she passed through the door like it wasn’t there.

Twilight snorted, and she clapped a hoof over her face. Big Macintosh had a frilly pink apron tied around his neck as he moved with purpose through the kitchen, minding a variety of dishes as they cooked. Apple Bloom bounced next to him, helping where she could by chopping and cleaning up, glancing over her shoulder to check her flank after each task.

Granny Smith sat at her rocker, directing the work flow of the kitchen. Twilight grinned and watched them operate like an oiled machine, lifting a casserole from the oven and leaving it to finish setting, replacing it with a latticed pie, stirring stew pots, dicing veggies. Could she interact, Twilight would have jumped in to take orders, though she thought she’d probably just get in the way.

The door opened behind her, and Applejack stomped the snow from her hooves, carrying a load of wood on her back. “Howdy, y’all; I got the firewood all chopped.”

“Hi, sis! Big Mac’s teachin’ me how ta…jewel…julienne zucchini…” She turned to her brother, eyebrow raised, seeking confirmation. At a grave nod, she turned back to Applejack.

“Is that so?” She grinned, and dropped her load next to the fireplace. “Just so long as I get ta teach ya momma’s sweet potatoes.”

“You bet!” Apple Bloom beamed.

“I’ll be down ta lend a hoof in a few; lemme get some a’ these twigs outta my mane.” She headed upstairs. Twilight gave a quick glance around, and followed after her friend.

Applejack’s door sat open at the top of the stairs, and Twilight hesitated at the threshold. For a moment, she felt voyeuristic, peering in while her friend brushed out her mane in the vanity mirror, and she considered going back to the kitchen and waiting with the rest of the Apples for Applejack to return. As she turned towards the stairs, a sigh caught her attention.

Applejack leaned against the dresser, fiddling with something just out of Twilight’s view. She stepped into the room, rounding her friend to stand at the other side of the vanity. Applejack was looking at a photograph, tapping against the frame, making it tip back and forth on its stand. The photo was of the six of them, crowded around in front of a picnic on a summer day, grinning together, a group of friends to stand the test of time. Twilight smiled, but it fell as she looked Applejack over.

Her friend looked stricken, pained. Another sigh escaped Applejack’s muzzle, and she pulled the photo closer, running a hoof across the glass.

“Oh, Twilight,” Applejack muttered to the picture. “When’re ya gonna notice me?”

Twilight blinked.

“I know I ain’t the most excitin’ pony in town. I don’t know nothin’ about Canterlot, or royalty, but…” Applejack sighed and shook her head. She did up the ribbon in her mane, and slapped her Stetson back into place. As she stood, she cast a look at the photograph, and slid it back into place. Her hoof lingered on the frame for a moment, and she set off for the staircase.

For a while, Twilight stared at the empty spot in front of the simple vanity. She realized her mouth was hanging open, and she shut her jaw with a click. Head whirling, she walked back to the kitchen in a fog, sitting away from the table and not taking in the conversation around her. She stared at Applejack.

“Notice you?” she mumbled to herself. “Why would you think I haven’t noticed you? You’re one of my best friends. I don’t go a full week without seeing you, and we spend so much time together…just being friends. You’re…you are my best friend, Applejack. The first one I ever made. Why would you think I haven’t noticed you?”

Twilight stared at her friend. As cooking wound down, Applejack helped carry the dishes to the table, pushed Granny in her rocker to the head of the table, and took her own seat. Big Macintosh sat at the foot, Apple Bloom on the side facing the door, and Applejack facing the back wall. An empty chair was next to her, and she cast a glance at the door before turning to the food and conversation.

Twilight looked at the empty chair. “…That’s for me.”

Her thoughts a storm of confusion and images, puzzles and ideas, she grabbed snippets of the meal’s discourse: memories of the previous year, hopes and dreams for the next, triumphs and good times, failures and hardships. Throughout the meal, Applejack’s eyes drifted to the empty chair, then back to her family.

A hoof settled on Twilight’s shoulder. “Figure it out yet?”

“No!” Twilight jumped to her hooves. “Why would Applejack think I don’t notice her? Why was she so sad in Canterlot? What does this have to do with Hearth’s Warming?!”

Twilight screwed her eyes shut. She pushed the haze away from her mind and focused on everything she’d seen, looking for a pattern, looking for an answer. She had many jigsaw pieces, but didn’t know the overall image they would form. “Okay,” she rambled to herself, “first was home with my family, then the pageant, but that was to highlight something else, so I’ll discount it for now. Then I saw Rarity and her sister, and the Cake family…” Twilight opened her eyes, and glared in thought. “Family. It’s all been scenes of families.”

Her frown deepened, and she looked around the table. “This is a family, too, but I don’t see what that would have to do with me, unless Applejack wants me to…”

Her eyes widened. For several moments, she sat completely still, cut off from the dinner, putting the puzzle pieces together in her head. “…Hearth’s Warming isn’t just about the friends and family you already have…it’s forging new friends…and making new families…”

Twilight staggered, struggling to keep from falling to her belly. She gaped at the back of Applejack’s head. A flurry of memories from the previous months, recently analyzed to look for signs of insult, played back through her head, overlaid with new understanding: every stutter in Applejack’s cadence, every odd shift of her eyes, every bit of hidden vulnerability, tiny blush, or little smile.

“Ya wanna grab dinner with me back in Ponyville?”

“She…she was asking me on a date,” Twilight breathed. “She…”

Twilight bolted up, and fled the house, charging through the intangible door and galloping through the orchard. The snow didn’t crunch under her hooves, and the wind didn’t bite at her, but her lungs burned and her eyes watered. She ran with no purpose or direction, weaving between trees, plowing straight through them, racing from her discovery, from the knowledge that the look of sadness on her friend’s face came from a wounded heart.

She collapsed to her belly in a clearing, far off in the northern orchard. The sun had marched across the sky, and as she panted ragged breaths, the last of its light vanished behind the horizon, leaving her in darkness broken by snow glittering in the moonlight. She pulled herself back up to her haunches as the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Present wandered into the clearing.

Twilight shook her head and looked at the spirit again. Laugh lines had been joined by a network of wrinkles, and Pinkie’s dark mane had bleached white, brighter than the snow. Her voice came out creaky with age. “Now you figured it out. You’re such a silly filly.”

“Yes.”

“I’d talk to you about it, but…” The spirit sighed, a wistful and somber sound, and sunk down to her haunches, rubbing at her back. “My time’s almost up.”

Twilight’s brow knit, and she stepped closer. “Are you going to die?”

The spirit smiled at Twilight. “Hearth’s Warming’s only a day long. But every new year has a new Hearth’s Warming, and ones that are gone are always remembered.”

Twilight nodded, and looked at her hooves. “What do I do, spirit? I know why Luna did this now, but…what do I do?”

The spirit laughed, and the age fled her voice, just a bright and bubbly Pinkie Pie laugh. “You’ll figure out what you want to do. You’re silly, but you’re sharp, too. And even though my time is up, you have a whole ‘nother ghost to meet.”

“I’m so confused, spirit. Applejack’s…in love with me? Why me? What do I do? What am I supposed to say? How do I—?”

The spirit’s hoof settled over her mouth. “You don’t have to know what to do or say at all, Twilight. You’ve got all the way ‘til morning to figure it out, and even if you don’t know then, nopony can tell you when you need to know what you’re gonna do. Maybe seeing a Hearth’s Warming that hasn’t happened yet will help.”

Twilight sat back and took a deep breath, drawing her hoof to her chest, and pushing it out as she exhaled. “You’re right. Thank you, spirit.”

The ghost grinned at her. “I’m glad we could be friends.” The white of her mane flashed, and Twilight watched as her body broke apart, scattering into motes of snow twinkling in the moonlight. A breeze rushed through, and Hearth’s Warming Present scattered to the winds.

Twilight closed her eyes and took another breath. A bubble of panic rose in her belly, but she shoved it away, sitting still, waiting for the final ghost to show her memories of a Hearth’s Warming yet to come.

Twilight opened her eyes to find a cloaked pony sitting in front of her. The face peering out from the hood was like looking into a mirror, with bangs cutting across the mare’s forehead broken only by a horn. In the low light of the moon, the mare’s coat could almost be mistaken for purple, but as Twilight looked her visitor over, she saw it was a dusky green.

“You’re…you’re Clover the Clever, aren’t you?”

The spirit gave her a wry smile.

“Okay, fine, you’re the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Future. But you look like Clover the Clever.” The ghost nodded and stood. Twilight got to her own hooves. “Will you not speak to me?”

The spirit shook her head, the smirk growing.

“Well, that’s sort of a downer.” Twilight took a steadying breath and straightened up. “Okay, spirit, I’m ready to see whatever you have to show me, and try to learn from it.”

At a nod, the ghost turned around and walked into the trees. As Twilight followed, the trees blended together to a swirl of darkness. The Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Future disappeared into the blanket of emptiness, and Twilight paused at the threshold, glancing back towards the farmhouse, new thoughts and fears plaguing her. She quieted her troubled mind and stepped into the portal.




> The Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Future
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


The Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Future


The sound and smell of cooking hit her before she could see anything. The misty nothing resolved into the kitchen of Golden Oaks Library, and Twilight’s worries fled to the back of her mind. Spike, several feet taller than she’d seen him last and sporting a little pair of wings, hummed as he worked at the stove. Her eyes roved the room, unsure where to focus as she took it all in.

Her modest table had been replaced by a long family-style one, stretching through the archway into the main room of the library. The seats were lined with a sea of faces: her friends so much the same, but so different, too. Fluttershy’s mane hung longer than she’d ever seen it, but running back from her face, no longer a shield from the world. Rainbow Dash and Rarity were dead ringers for themselves, if sporting a few extra lines around the eyes, and thinner cheeks. Pinkie Pie held no surprise, looking just like the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Present as they headed for the farm later in the day.

Next to each of them sat special someponies, and the only familiar face between them was Thunderlane holding hooves with Rarity. Twilight flitted from one to the next, catching snippets of conversation, bits of laughter. She grinned at them. They were all so happy, and curiosity about the ponies that brought her friends such happiness bubbled in her belly. She couldn’t wait to get to know these stallions and mares that would grow this close to her friends, and she couldn’t wait to make them friends of her own.

So many stories she wanted to know. She warred between puzzling out what she could from the conversation, or preserving the surprise for when she lived alongside those stories unfolding.

Her excitement lessened as she turned from face to face. She didn’t see herself or Applejack at the table. Five spots sat empty: one for Spike, one for herself, and three others. Applejack always struck her as the family type, and her curiosity burned brighter. She peered around the archway into the main library.

There she was, around a decade older, and perhaps a few inches taller still from her transformation to an alicorn, sitting by the fireplace with a book in front of her muzzle. Twilight smiled at herself and rolled her eyes, but the uneasiness didn’t leave. She walked through the table and over to her future self.

For several minutes, she heard conversation trickle over from her guests, while watching herself devour a book. Images of herself as a filly, surrounded by family but isolated in her own little world, sprung to mind, and she fought them off.

“I’m jumping to conclusions,” she muttered, pacing around her future form. “I like reading now and I don’t feel guilty doing it sometimes. Everypony’s allowed some time to themselves. I’m not…”

Twilight shook her head. “I’m reading too much into this. I’ve zoned out reading lots of times.” She circled her older self and scanned the pages. “Light adventure. I get pulled into those a lot, and it looks like I’m just getting to a good stopping point. Maybe when I finish the chapter…”

She watched herself finish and turn the page, launching into the next part. She groaned, looping around and casting an irritated glare back and forth from the table to herself. “I must be really zoned out. Somepony’ll have to snap me out of it, or—”

Laughter erupted from Rainbow Dash, tantalizingly familiar, but with a raspier quality. The reading Twilight’s ear flicked, and a crease formed in her brow, drawing the book closer, blocking out the dinner conversation.

Twilight gaped at herself. “…No. Stop it. Stop it!” Her horn lit up as she tried to wrest the book from her future self, but she grabbed nothing. She swung her hooves through the air, and through the book itself, trying to stomp it down. She sprawled on the floor.

“You’re missing it! You’re missing it again, stop it, stop it!” she screamed at herself. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in her hooves, twisting away from her future, from her betrayal. She lay on the floor, cringing at the laughter she was missing.

A hoof rubbed her shoulder. She sniffled and wiped her muzzle, looking up at the ghost. Dragging herself to her haunches, she cleared her throat, cast a bitter glare at herself, and turned back to the spirit. “Where is Applejack?”

The spirit smiled at her, and turned towards the door. As the ghost passed through, heading out into the snowy day, Twilight looked around the room again, at the faces of her friends, and herself off to the side, ignoring them. “…I’m not going back to that,” she promised. “Never again.”

Twilight turned, and followed the spirit out into the quiet evening of Ponyville.

The sun had set, and light poured into the street from homes full of other family dinners. They drifted past the occasional group, still wandering about the growing cold, singing songs and laughing together. Some buildings Twilight expected to see were gone, and empty lots had new homes and shops. The ten years or so of time showed growth in Ponyville, but much remained the same. It made her think about what else had changed, aside from herself. She pushed the discomfort away as they walked.

“I wonder why Applejack was running late,” she mused to the spirit, partly to fill the silence. “I saw the extra seats. Maybe she found somepony else, and he or she held them up? Maybe she has a foal?”

The ghost walked forward, offering Twilight no response. As they entered the orchard, the sky lightened as the sun moved backwards. Twilight tapped her chin. “You’re showing me something from earlier? Did something bad happen?”

Twilight sped to a trot, moving through snowcapped trees towards the farmhouse. A decade gone, the building looked much the same: new coat of paint here, replaced siding there, but a soothing constant she could rely on.

Twilight stepped through the door to her friend’s home. For all the same, a stark difference struck her immediately as her eyes fell upon the empty rocker by the fireplace. She shook her head, thinking it better to explore than assume, and wandered through the home. Big Macintosh was cleaning the kitchen counters, sliding a rag across the surface, while staring out the window. The years had been kind, and if Twilight didn’t know that years had passed since the last memory, she would’ve thought it could have been the same day. She climbed the stairs, and stared at the closed door to Applejack’s room. She went to the opposite side of the hall and looked in on the youngest Apple.

Apple Bloom’s room was a frozen image of foalhood: everything put neatly away, bed made up and barren, everything far too orderly. “Looks like she moved out,” Twilight muttered to herself. “Not that surprising; Apple Bloom would be about my age now.” She grinned to herself. “I wonder what she’s made of herself? I hope she’s still best friends with Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle.”

She skipped Big Mac’s room, and hesitated at Granny Smith’s. “…Do I want to know?” She took a deep breath and plunged through the wood. Plastic sheets covered the furniture, and Twilight bowed her head. “Ten years is a long time,” she told herself. “She was a great pony, and she lived a great life. I wonder how Applejack took it; family’s so important to her. I hope she had somepony to lean against. Whoever she ended up with would need to be strong for her when she needed it.”

She took a deep breath, and turned from the room, staring at Applejack’s door. “…Sure is quiet in this house now.”

As she took a tentative step forward, the knob to Big Macintosh’s room turned and the door flew open. Cheerilee stepped out, and Twilight’s jaw fell open. “…Cheerilee? That sly colt. I thought I’d seen the two of them around town together!” She giggled, grinning at Big Macintosh’s…girlfriend? Wife?

Cheerilee knocked on Applejack’s door. “It’s getting close to sundown, Applejack.”

“Right ya are, sis,” Applejack said through the door. Wife then, Twilight reasoned. “Thanks.”

Twilight shook her head forcefully as Cheerilee descended to the kitchen. “Guess it’s not that quiet.”

The door opened, Applejack stepped out, and Twilight couldn’t help smiling wider. The years had been kind to Applejack, too: her mane still bright and full, her face lineless. She sported some extra freckles on her cheeks and shoulders, and her already solid frame was a little bit thicker with muscle. Twilight cast a quick glance into Applejack’s room, then followed close as her friend went downstairs.

“Howdy, Mac, Cheer,” she called, and Twilight’s smile faltered. For all she looked the same, there was a vulnerability and sense of exhaustion to her voice. “I’m headin’ out to the supper in a few; you sure you’re gonna stay home?”

“Eeyup.” He tossed the washcloth in the sink, and turned to his sister. “Ya know what crowds’re like for me.”

“They ain’t crowds if’n ya know everypony. They set a place for ya both every year, ya know.”

“I know.” He sighed and took a seat by the table, slinging a hoof around Cheerilee, who leaned into the embrace. “An’ you know I don’t talk so fast. Ain’t nopony gonna mind me stayin’ home again.” He frowned. “An’ you know you’re welcome to stay if’n ya want: have a family supper again. I see how them things tire ya.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, waving a hoof. “You lovebirds earned your alone time tonight, and it ain’t that tirin’ for me.” Twilight’s brow knit. She could hear a bitterness in her friend’s voice: Applejack wanted out of the house, yet she was lying. The night would exhaust her and she knew it, but she needed to leave the two of them anyway.

“Is’at why you leave so early for ‘em?” He cast a piercing look at her, and Twilight watched her friend’s throat bob.

“I just like takin’ my time through the trees is all. Don’t you worry a lick about me.”

His frown deepened, but Cheerilee poked him in the side, whispering, “Leave her be.” He let out a breath and nodded.

“Anyway, I’m off; don’t y’all be waitin’ up for me.” She offered a half-hearted smile, and headed through the door.

Twilight followed, her mind racing. “Applejack’s room wasn’t set up for two ponies,” she muttered. “Applejack’s alone.” Her brow knit as her friend wandered off the path and into the orchards. “And she likes Cheerilee just fine, but I don’t think she likes living with them. Where’s she going?”

The meandering journey led Twilight away from the house and barns, out of sight and eventually out of earshot from anypony around. Applejack stopped and sat down.

Twilight was struck with the same sense of invasiveness she felt back at Applejack’s room in the previous memory. The desire to flee pulled at her, but she pressed forward, step after step to bring her friend’s face into view.

“Just gotta hold it together,” Applejack told herself. “Just gotta be all smiles, ‘cause they’re expectin’ me…” Twilight fell to her haunches, watching tears run down Applejack’s face.

Time fell away for a moment as Twilight tried to piece everything together, watching Applejack cry, having no way to comfort her, knowing it was her fault. When Twilight at last looked up through the dimness of the setting sun, the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Future stared back at her.

“She’s heartbroken,” Twilight breathed. “She…she never found anypony else, and just…held onto me from a distance…”

She turned to the shadow of Applejack, the vision of a far off Hearth’s Warming where she sat reading instead of seeing her friends, and Applejack sat in a field to cry before being around her. “Why?” she asked. “Why this?”

Anger boiled in her stomach, and she jumped to her hooves, snarling at the spirit. “I know the nature of these spells; they show one future out of many: one choice from dozens, but this…” She looked at Applejack. “This can’t be real. This can’t actually happen. Applejack’s too strong, too sure. She’s proud and stubborn, not…not this…”

She shook her head, denying the sight. “She’d find somepony else if she knew it wouldn’t work with me. She wouldn’t hide in her own house, hide from me.” She grit her teeth. “This can’t be what happens.”

As the words poured from her mouth, doubt nagged at her. She grimaced, unable to keep from voicing the idea. “…Unless she was so sure it was me she wanted she refused to move on, and her pride kept her from ever acting on it and risk being hurt.”

The scenario played through her head, and she cringed, hating the vision, fearful of the notion. Twilight was repulsed by the thought of Applejack cloistered away, nursing a broken heart, denying the pain and refusing to find an outlet where she could be hurt and vulnerable for once, instead of the pony everypony else depended upon.

Twilight fell back to her haunches in front of Applejack, pleading, demanding, “Why me, Applejack? What do you see in me, somepony who hurts you this much and doesn’t even notice?” Her eyes stung as she shouted, and she wiped them roughly. She burned with shame, with self-hate, and she slammed her hooves to the ground. “And when I didn’t get it all those years ago, why didn’t you just ask me? Don’t you know I’d say…that I’d say…”

Twilight fell back as if struck. Her eyes flew wide, trailing tears. “That I’d say yes!” she yelled. “I’d say yes, Applejack! I wouldn’t tell you no, that I wouldn’t give it a chance!”

She leapt back to all fours. “I’d say yes because I can always rely on you! You’re always there, when I need help, or somepony to work out a plan with, or just to talk to, or even just be an ear when I need somepony to listen. You’re just like me, Applejack, and you’ve always been by my side for everything. You’ve been a partner so many times for everything else, if you wanted to be partners in romance, I’d at least try, because you’ve never let me down before.”

A breathless giggle escaped her lips as she sunk back to sitting. “And…and that’s why me, because you see the same things. Because we want the same things, from ourselves, and from the world. You…you see me the same way I see you, but you’re not a silly fool like I am. Oh, Applejack…”

Twilight flung her hooves around Applejack’s neck, passing through her friend’s form, hugging nothing. She recoiled, and her heart quaked to see Applejack sit there by herself, away from her friends and family, gathering strength to face a night and a reality she hated. Twilight bowed her head again, and were she really there, her forehead would have pressed to Applejack’s. She didn’t feel anything, but she gathered her own strength anyway. Eventually she stood, turned away from the memory, and looked to the ghost.

“…I think I have all my questions answered, spirit.”

The Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Future nodded. Twilight followed as she walked back through the trees.

“…I know you’re not actually Clover the Clever, but do you know if Clover ever had a lover? Most of the stories talk about rumors between her and Starswirl, her mentor, but they’re largely discounted. Her later life isn’t covered in any real detail…just that she kept in touch with her new friends…and was especially close to Smart Cookie.”

The ghost cast a sidelong glance at Twilight, with a mysterious smile on her muzzle.

“I guess there are some questions nopony can get answered.” She grinned. “Like if the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Past really did make that howl.”

The trees shimmered, twisting into a vortex. Twilight stepped through without hesitation.

She knew what she was doing in the morning.




> Hearth's Warming
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Hearth’s Warming


Twilight’s eyes flew open, and she flailed herself awake, tumbling off the side of the bed and onto the floor. She wrestled her way out of the twisted sheets and jumped to her hooves. For a moment she was disoriented, and spread her wings to keep from falling over.

“Woah,” she groaned, shaking the sleep from her head. She stumbled to her vanity and lifted a brush to her mane, fighting it back into a semblance of order. She still felt half caught in the memory magic, and the tangibility of the real world threw her off. As she worked the snags from her tail, her gaze drifted to the clock.

It was two in the afternoon. Twilight nearly fell over again.

“How in Equestria did I sleep that long?!” she shouted, tugging her tail straight and wincing at the brushstrokes. “Stupid spell! Wonderful spell! Stupid, wonderful spell! I need to write Luna a thank you letter!” She leapt up from the vanity and flew down to her desk. “Wait, no! No time!”

She jumped up again, flapping her wings, and flew down the stairs. She grabbed a scarf off a peg, flung it around her neck, and pulled the door open.

Rarity stumbled back from the threshold, one hoof raised to knock. “Oh, Twilight, you must have heard us coming.”

For a moment, Twilight hovered in the air staring at the gathered carolers. She shook her head and folded her wings to her sides, landing on the ground hard enough to make her teeth click. “Actually, I was just about to head out.”

Pinkie flashed a pair of wide, pleading eyes at her, and guilt squirmed in her belly. “I, uh, changed my mind and was going to go to Applejack’s. How about I join you singing at the next house before I go?”

Pinkie grinned and dragged her out of the library. “C’mon, Twilight, it’s—”

“Hearth’s Warming, I know.” She giggled at her friend, and pulled away just long enough to close and lock the door behind her. They set off together back towards town, and she exchanged grins with the others. “How has your morning been?”

“Oh my gosh, it’s been so much fun!” Pinkie ran a circle around the group. “We started a little late, thanks to grumpy foals, but everypony loves carols! I got three caramel apples!”

“Me, too!” Sweetie Belle chimed.

Rarity cringed. “Yes, but you’re only eating one today, Sweetie.”

“Yeah, yeah, one right now, the others later.”

“Much later,” Rarity whispered. She turned to Twilight. “So what made you decide to take up Applejack’s invitation?”

“Oh, well…” Twilight looked away, chewing her lip. “When I woke up today, my mind was made up.” She caught Rarity’s raised brow from the corner of her eye, and turned to Mr. and Mrs. Cake. “I hardly ever see the two of you outside of Sugarcube Corner; are you enjoying your day off?”

The couple shared a beleaguered look for a moment. Mrs. Cake smiled at Twilight and said, “Yes, it’s been very nice to be out and about for a change. Carrot and I were talking about that earlier. The shop’s just too much of a hoofful to take very much time off.”

Twilight tried to hide her wry smile. “You know, I’ve been looking for some excuses to get out of the library every now and then. If you’re interested, I wouldn’t mind helping out around Sugarcube Corner once in a while and give you two a break. Say, by helping Pinkie with cleaning two or three times a month?”

The two blinked in surprise, exchanged a look, and turned back to Twilight. “We couldn’t ask a princess to clean our bakery,” Mr. Cake insisted.

“You’re not asking; I’m offering. Really, you’d be doing me a favor by giving me the excuse. Plus, I’d like to see you two get out on your own more.” She looked forward, hoping to hide her blush. “Beats sneaking long lunches.”

Mr. and Mrs. Cake exchanged yet another look, and grinned at each other. Mrs. Cake stuck a hoof out to Twilight, who shook it. “You drive a hard bargain, Twilight, but if you’re dead-set on working at the bakery for free, who’re we to stop you?”

They exchanged a giggle, which turned into a belly laugh when Pinkie leapt behind the group and shoveled everypony towards an awaiting doorstep.

Twilight wrapped her hooves around Pinkie’s and Rarity’s necks while they belted out Carol of the Bells together, and on the chorus, she lifted Sweetie Belle onto her back. They gave Sweetie the second chorus to sing by herself, and Twilight agreed with the Rarity from her dream: divine was the perfect description.

When they finished, and the ponies inside asked for an encore, they switched to The Fire of Friendship, and Twilight’s eyes drifted to the sky. She hadn’t seen a clock in her memory, but based on the sun, supper at Sweet Apple Acres was growing close. She tried to push her nerves away and focus on singing.

After earning another caramel apple a piece for Sweetie and Pinkie, as well as a worsening eye-twitch for Rarity, Twilight bid them farewell. She set off at a canter, which increased to a gallop.

Twilight eyed the sky as she turned down the dirt road through the orchard. She knew she’d missed Applejack coming in with firewood, and a twinge of regret clenched her throat at the thought that Applejack had been talking to her photograph while she sang, but she picked up her pace, hoping, wishing to make it there before they sat down to eat.

As the house came into view, Twilight opened her wings and flew the rest of the distance. On the porch, she peered in through the window, and released a heavy breath: Applejack was helping set the table. In a few moments, her friend would sit down, and turn to the door, waiting for her. Twilight settled on the porch. She patted her mane into order, stood up straight, and thumped her hoof against the door.

She heard a chair scuff across the floor as Applejack stood up again inside. She held her breath, listening to hoofsteps, and watched the door open in front of her.

“Twilight! I thought that might be you!” Applejack said, grinning at her. Twilight’s stomach somersaulted, and she returned the smile.

“Is that invitation still open?”

“Course it is, sugarcube! C’mon in; everypony was just sittin’ down to tuck in!” Applejack walked back to the table with a bounce in her step, and pulled a chair out for Twilight.

Stepping inside the farmhouse, Twilight grinned around the table and took the offered seat. She inhaled the aroma wafting from the dishes. “Oh, it smells so good. I meant to come a little earlier and help out, but I woke up late and ended up going to carol at a house with Pinkie and Rarity.”

Applejack took her seat next to Twilight. “Shucks, Twi, house guests ain’t gotta help with the cookin’; alls we want is your company. ‘Sides, Mac an’ me had a helper in the kitchen, didn’t we, Mac?”

“Eeyup.” He grinned at Apple Bloom, who beamed back at him.

“I do like cookin’, though I ain’t got a cutie mark from it.” She glared over her shoulder.

Twilight giggled. “Well, I bet it still tastes delicious, with or without a cutie mark. Those sweet potatoes look amazing; family recipe?”

Applejack puffed out her chest, and dolloped a serving of them onto Twilight’s plate. “That they are: my momma’s secret, an’ Apple Bloom did ‘em perfect the first time.”

“Now hold your horses, Applejack,” Granny teased. “Can’t go servin’ up food ‘til we done said somethin’ over the meal. Anypony got a toast?”

Twilight lifted a glass of water in a glow of magic. “How about to families?”

Applejack lifted her own glass. “I’ll drink to that; it’s right fittin’ for Hearth’s Warmin’.” The others raised their glasses. “To families.” They clinked together in the center of the table. “By blood or not.”

“That’s better,” Granny said with a nod. “Now hurry up an’ load my plate; I’m starvin’!”

Sadness pinched Twilight’s heart as she watched the eldest Apple lift her dentures off the table and slap them into her mouth. She leaned closer to Granny. “Applejack’s shared some of your stories about what it was like when your family first started the farm, but I’d love to hear them from you.” She grinned at Applejack. “I might love history almost as much as Applejack.”

“Is’at so? She done tell ya the one about the first Hearth’s Warmin’ on the farm?”

“No, but even if she did, I’d bet you’d tell it better.” She shot Applejack a teasing smile, whose glare back at her was ruined by the rumbling of contained laughter.

“Applejack, I like this friend a’ yours, she’s a keeper.”

Applejack lost the reins on her mirth, and her siblings and Twilight soon joined in. Granny Smith took the opportunity to grab a second helping of sweet potatoes.

Twilight’s face hurt from grinning all through dinner, listening to Granny Smith’s stories, hearing Apple Bloom’s excited recounts of ‘almost’ finding her special talent, and even a wry and clever anecdote from Big Mac, and she wondered how she could ever had said ‘no’ to the invitation. The food was as good as it smelled, and she ate with gusto: not as fast as the practiced speed of farmers, but quantities reminiscent of her first meeting with Applejack. As dinner wound down, Twilight was feeling full: full of food, full of stories, full of laughter, and full of resolution.

“Can I help with the dishes?” she asked.

Applejack scoffed, leaping up to gather plates. “Ain’t no guest on the farm’s gotta do no dishes. You sit yourself right in that chair and not move an inch, ya hear?”

“Actually, Applejack, I thought I’d go outside and stargaze.” Applejack stopped and raised an eyebrow at Twilight. “Winter’s the best time to do it, and they’re brighter when you’re not surrounded by the town. Meet me out there after the dishes?”

Applejack smiled and nodded. “Sure thing, sugarcube.”

Twilight stood, and cantered to the door. She almost walked face first into the wood out of habit and distraction, but she remembered to open it. She went to the edge of the porch, away from the window and the light pouring out from the cozy home, and stared up at the sky, watching her breath puff in front of her, spotting constellations. She listened to the clink of china and rush of water inside, and tried to pin her focus to the noise of dishes and sight of stars.

Nerves jangled up her spine, and she sat on her haunches to keep from trembling. She could feel her heart thunder in her chest as the time stretched out, but through all of it, the image of Applejack’s grinning face, peering through the door to greet her, kept her still, kept her breaths steady.

The door to the house opened, and Applejack came to sit next to Twilight. For a moment, neither of them said anything, staring upwards.

“…I never really look up at the stars ‘round the farm. Gets dark early enough this time a’ year I could, but I don’t remember last time I did. They are brighter, ain’t they?”

“It’s called light pollution. The brightness of the stars has to compete with the light from homes and shops. It’s not too bad in Ponyville, but in Canterlot, some nights you can hardly see any stars at all. Out here, though…”

Grinning, Applejack took in the skyscape. “Hard to believe there ever was a time Princess Luna got jealous nopony saw how beautiful her night was.”

“I always had trouble believing it, too.”

“Well, she sure ain’t lazy tonight. I’ll have to remember to say thanks next time I see her.”

“…Me, too.”

Applejack took a deep breath of the crisp air, and sighed in contentment. “I sure am glad ya changed your mind an’ decided to come, Twi.”

“Me, too.”

“Really means a lot to me ya did. You were pretty against it last night, though. What changed your mind?”

Twilight swallowed the lump in her throat. She willed the tremor from her voice as she turned away from the stars to look at her friend. “I had…a revelation last night. Applejack…?”

Glancing down from the sky, Applejack started, and gave Twilight her full attention. “What’s botherin’ ya, sugarcube?”

“I’m…I’m sorry.”

Applejack’s brow knit, and she frowned.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice.” Twilight leaned closer, and she could smell roasted vegetables, apple pie, and dish soap on Applejack. “I should have known what you meant.”

“I…I ain’t followin’ ya, Twi.”

“I should have realized that all this time I’ve had a pony by my side. Somepony who’s always been there for me, who’s only been trying to get my attention in her own way, but I’ve been too short-sighted to notice.”

Twilight watched the blooming realization on Applejack’s face, delighted in it, reveled in the smile spreading across the beautiful mare’s muzzle. “I want to fix my mistake now. Because the future’s wide open, and I know that whatever happens, wherever life takes me…I know I want the pony who’s always been next to me in it.”

“Twilight…are you—?” Applejack’s voice died in her throat as Twilight’s hoof stroked her cheek. She let out a breath, watching it turn to fog in front of her eyes and vanish against Twilight’s face.

“Can I kiss you, Applejack?”

Closing her eyes, Applejack collapsed the distance that separated them. In an instant, Twilight felt strong hooves wrap around her back, and a tantalizing warmth press to her chest. The strength and warmth, and the softness of Applejack’s lips against her own underlined everything she knew about her friend: the steadiness, the constant dependability, the gentleness, the sweetness. In that moment, Twilight’s resolve strengthened, and she sensed the memories of a Hearth’s Warming yet to come lose their substance and fade to a bad dream. The reality of the spell fell apart, and the knowledge of what years ahead would hold turned from fact to fanciful guesswork.

Twilight’s future lay before her, holding her close as another Hearth’s Warming came to pass and dissolved into snowflakes.

But she remembered what the Ghost of Hearth’s Warming Present had promised: every new year would bring a new Hearth’s Warming, and Twilight knew she would always remember this one.





Dear Princess Luna,

I’ve rewritten this letter so many times I’ve lost count. I just don’t know what to say. I can never thank you enough for what you’ve shown me. Thank you, Luna. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you.

With the spirit of Hearth’s Warming always remembered,

—Twilight Sparkle