> Lullabies Unsung
>  by Seether00
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1: A Barren Orchard
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Lullabies Unsung



Chapter 1: A Barren Orchard




Twilight groaned as she woke up, an incessant knock hammering its way into her skull .

“Spike!” she called, rising from her desk. Her mane lay flat on one side, another case of ‘deskhead.’ She’d fallen asleep on an open book, allowing the candle to drip wax onto her hair.

Again.

She winced as the heavy raps at the door continued.

“Spike! Where is that lazy dragon?” No doubt he was fast asleep. It would take more than Twilight yelling to wake him up at—she glanced at the wall clock.

“Two-thirty in the morning!” Not bothering to remove the congealed lumps of wax stuck in her mane, Twilight lumbered towards the door, cursing under her breath. She’d slept awkwardly; her left wing was all pins and needles. She intended to give whoever was knocking a piece of her mind. “Somepony better have died. If it’s Pinkie Pie or Rainbow Dash with another prank, so help me...”

She flung open the door.

“What?!” Twilight blinked. “Big Macintosh?” Applejack’s level-headed brother was the last pony Twilight expected to see on her doorstep in the middle of the night. “What are you doing here? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

He kept his eyes to ground, shifting from hoof to hoof. “Sorry to disturb ya, Princess.”

“Oh, ‘Twilight’ is fine, Big Mac.”

“Twilight, my sister came home tonight, drunk as a skunk on New Year’s Eve. Normally that don’t mean nothin’, but she went straight to the bathroom and locked herself inside. I just reckoned the liquor had caught up with her is all. At least, till I heard her start cryin’. That was a couple of hours ago. Got the rest of the family real worried. We tried talkin’ to her, but she just keeps cryin’ and won’t tell us what’s got her so upset.

“I won’t lie to ya. I haven’t heard AJ this broken up since our folks died. It hurts me somethin’ awful she won’t confide in me, so I was hopin’, you being one of her best friends and all, you could come by and talk to her.”

“Absolutely, Big Mac. Let me round up the girls, and we’ll meet you at the farm.” Twilight began plotting the most efficient sequence to wake each pony.

Big Macintosh bowed. “Much obliged, Princ—I mean Twilight. It’s a load off my mind, knowin’ you gals have AJ’s back.”





The girls, in different states of nightdress, stood outside the Apple family’s upstairs bathroom listening to the faint sobs coming from inside. Big Macintosh paced the hall while Apple Bloom peeked out of her room. 

“Applejack!” Rainbow Dash banged on the bathroom door. “Applejack, get out of there! Other ponies in this house need to pee!”

“Rainbow Dash!” Rarity scolded. “That’s not helping. Show some decorum.”

Rainbow took a break from pounding on the bathroom door to scowl at Rarity. “Well excuse me, but I just got grabbed and teleported in the middle of the night without so much as a ‘Hey there, Rainbow’. So, yeah. I gotta pee like a racehorse.”

“There’s another bathroom downstairs, young’un,” Granny Smith called from down the hall.

“Oh, thank Celestia.” Dash zipped away, hooves held between her legs.

Rarity, still dressed in a pink nightgown and slippers, took Rainbow’s place. She leaned against the door to hear more sobbing. “Applejack, darling. Why don’t you come out and we can discuss whatever is distressing you over a nice cup of tea, hmm?”

More sobbing.

“Let me try,” Twilight offered, moving Rarity aside. “AJ, it’s Twilight. Just talk to us. The girls and I are here for you. You don’t have to open the door, okay?”

“I’ll give you a cupcake!” Pinkie said, producing one out from beneath her nightcap. “It’s chocolate-chocolate. Chocolate will make you feel better.”

“Pinkie, this is hardly the time to be tempting her with empty calories,” Rarity said. “It will go straight to her flanks, a situation not likely to make anypony happy."

“Actually, the anandamide in chocolate is a natural mood enhancer,” Twilight supplied.

Rarity simply raised an eyebrow. “Twilight, really? I don’t believe—given our friend is falling to pieces mere steps away—that this is the appropriate time for such trivia.”

While the three were occupied, Fluttershy shuffled up to the door. “Applejack, if you could just open the door, pretty please. Um, if it’s not too much trouble. It’s just that, well, Winona here is really sad because you’re sad.” The family’s collie whined and pawed at the door.

“I ain’t comin’ out. Y’all just leave me be, ya hear? I wanna be alone.”

“Oh for buck’s sake!” Rainbow darted up the stairs and pushed past the others. “You girls tried it the easy way. Now we do it the hard way.” She shouldered Fluttershy aside and resumed banging on the door. “Applejack! You got to the count of three to open up, or I’m bucking this door down!”

“Rainbow, that seems like a gross overreaction,” Rarity said primly.

“One—”

“Rainbow,” said Twilight. “I know you’re really worried right now but—”

“Look, Twi, our friend’s in there crying her eyes out, and I want to know why. We’ve been yapping at the door for twenty minutes. I’m done standing around. It’s time for action.” Rainbow Dash turned around and raised her rear legs, resuming the count. “Two. You better step away from the door, AJ.”

The lock clicked and the door creaked open. “Gosh darn it, RD!” Applejack stepped out, shooting a bloodshot glare at the pegasus. “Fine. I’m out. Ya don’t need to knock my house down. I hope y’all are happy.”

Rarity gasped at her appearance. The farmer’s prized Stetson was jammed down on top of her in a vain attempt to cover the gnarled messed left by her missing ties, which lay around her neck, equally tangled.

Fluttershy jumped as something small brushed her legs. Apple Bloom emerged from the forest of legs to wrap her sister in a warm hug.

“Applejack, what’s the matter? Why’re ya cryin’?” Apple Bloom asked.

Applejack kept her voice level as she wrapped her own forearm around her little sister. “Sorry ’bout that, sugarcube. Big sis just needed a good cry. That’s all.” She lowered herself to Apple Bloom’s level and gave her a pat on the head. “Now dontcha fret. You just go on back to bed. I just need to discuss some grown-up troubles with the girls.”

Apple Bloom frowned. “But, Sis—”

“Now, Apple Bloom, mind yer business.” As Big Macintosh lifted Apple Bloom onto his back, she squirmed and kicked, but he held her firmly in his teeth. “Let your sister and her friends have their privacy. I’m sure Applejack will tell us all about it in the morning.” He shot a glance towards Applejack, and she nodded.

Granny Smith shook her head and slowly made her way downstairs. “I’ll just go put on some coffee then.” 

The old mare was as good as her word, and the girls soon found themselves seated in the Apples’ living room. After serving coffee, Granny Smith left a tray of sugar and cream, and excused herself back to bed.

Just like the Apple family, no two mugs were alike. Some were old, chipped in many places and stained nearly coal-black from decades of use while a few were only lightly touched by time. Rarity, of course, picked one of the least personalized mugs. There was an unspoken air of gratitude among the uncomfortable friends that Rarity had withheld her usual round of commentary on the absolute necessity of owning at least one set of fine china.

A heavy silence stretched as everypony waited for Applejack to explain. It wasn’t until she was pouring her second cup of coffee that she felt ready to speak. Of course, there was one pony whose patience had long since run out.

“So, AJ. What’s with the waterworks?” Dash ignored the pointed glares directed at her from multiple directions. “You’ve always been a happy drunk.”

“Tact, Rainbow Dash! Really. Tact, please.” Rarity levitated the pot of cream and poured herself a generous amount. “Now, Applejack, sweetie, take your time. No one is going to rush you,” she said as she stirred her cup, floating the cream around to everyone else. “We understand this must be a very sensitive matter to elicit such a—erm—reaction out of you.”

Twilight politely waved off the offered pot of cream. Like Applejack, she took her coffee black, and preferably just one notch above solid.

Fluttershy accepted a modest amount of cream. From the sugar bowl, she added one spoonful before passing it to Pinkie, who poured the rest of the contents into her cup.

Eyes lowered, Applejack hunched forward in her chair and let out a deep sigh. “Y’see girls, it all started this morning.”





Applejack wasn’t one to see a doctor for every little scratch, but a couple of weeks back, she’d gotten a pretty deep gash while sharpening an axe. Big Macintosh had insisted, even in the face of her stubbornness, that she get it fixed up properly. While stitching her up, the doctor had mentioned she was long overdue for a physical.

Just as expected, she was in peak physical condition, so it came as a surprise when a letter arrived a week later calling her back. It was something about an anomaly in her ‘thaum count,’ whatever that was.

“Howdy, doc.” Applejack tipped her hat and took a seat opposite the physician.

After the formalities of conversation had been taken care of, Doctor Stable pushed up his glasses and frowned. “Miss Apple, there is no easy way to say this, so I’ll be blunt.”

Applejack sat up attentively, focusing on what the doctor was about to say.

“You’re infertile.”

Applejack sat in silence, blinked several times, then let loose a loud gaffaw. “Ha! That’s a good ’un there, doc.” She wiped away a tear. “For a second, it sounded like you said I can’t have kids. I’ll admit you had me goin’ there for a bit, but that there’s plumb ridiculous.” After a couple more chuckles she said, “Now let me tell you something, doc. No Apple, and I mean no Apple, in the history of the Apple family has ever failed to bear fruit.”

She shook her head firmly and waved a hoof in the air. “Just don’t happen. Reckon most branches have at least two to four foals apiece. For Celestia’s sake, cousin Ambrosia already got five and another on the way! So why don’t you get on with why I’m really here.”

The doctor remained seated with hooves steepled. A lump formed in Applejack’s throat as she realized he wasn’t joking. He sighed again and slid an open medical chart across the desk.

“We’ve found an extremely high thaum count in your blood. Thaums are what we use to measure magic use and exposure. Your count is well beyond what is considered normal for an earth pony. Unfortunately, its effects are not very well understood in the medical community. All we can theorize is that an intense amount of magic can damage sensitive tissue, such as the reproductive organs.” He let out a sigh and took off his glasses. “In your case, I’m afraid it means the inability to bear children. I’m truly sorry, Miss Apple.”

She scanned the chart from the top, but was ill-equipped to make sense of it. Medical terms, rows upon rows of numbers, and a long list of acronyms rendered her body down to its most basic level with cold clinical detachment. She did, however, understand the final line.

Applejack tore her eyes away from the evidence of her body’s betrayal. Her mouth worked to form words.

None came.

A heavy sob found its way past her lips as she cradled her head in her hooves.

It took more than a few shuddering breaths for Applejack to find her voice again, though the feeling of nausea remained. “This don’t make a lick of sense to me, doc,” she said, taking the glass of ice water he offered. A shiver went through her as the cold water flowed down her throat in two gulps, only adding to the chill pooling in the pit of her gut. “You told me I was one of the healthiest mares you’ve ever seen. Heck, you wished more of your patients were like us Apples. Now you’re telling me what? That my insides are as rotten as an apple left at the bottom of the barrel?”

“I assure you there's nothing at all rotten inside you, Miss Apple, and your condition is, I confess, a puzzle, but the results are conclusive.” The doctor rubbed his chin. “Indeed, you’re in otherwise excellent health.” He leaned over and flipped to a page displaying Applejack’s bodyscan. “I consulted a former classmate—an excellent reproductive specialist in Canterlot. In her fifteen years of practice, she’s never seen test results like this in an earth pony. In her expert opinion, what has occurred shouldn't even be possible. Here—” he indicated the abdominal area “—is where the problem resides, in the ovaries. According to the results, while your estrus cycle remains unaffected, we’ve concluded that your eggs are no longer viable.”

Applejack rubbed her temple, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “Why wouldn’t my eggs be active? Apple family seeds have always been strong.”

Replacing his spectacles, the doctor leaned forward again and frowned. “Again, I’m sorry that we don’t have much of an explanation for you, Miss Apple, but let me ask you a question. Have you ever, to the best of your knowledge, been exposed to an extremely high dose of magic?”

Applejack swallowed hard. “H-how high we talkin’?”





“And that pretty much sums it up.” Applejack sniffled and tilted her face back towards the ceiling.

It came as no surprise that Fluttershy was the first to rush over and envelop her in a warm hug, whispering condolences.

Forelegs crossed, Pinkie piped up, “I still don’t get it. My Grammy Pie always said, ‘You get two earth ponies in a room and you’ll likely have four in a couple of months.’ We earth ponies multiply faster than rocks in a field.”

“The diagnosis was quite clear, Pinkie,” Rarity said. “I do share your puzzlement at the root cause, however.”

“I have my suspicions.” Applejack pushed Fluttershy away and pulled a piece of paper out from under her hat. “Twilight, here’s a summary the doc was kind enough to provide. Go ahead read the last paragraph. Out loud, if you’d be so kind.”

“Erhm… Causation: A massive single dose exposure to unknown magic in excess of…” Twilight’s eyes widened. “This says one million thaums. A million!” She dropped the paper, her mouth agape. “Applejack, how… I mean when in the world were you exposed to so much… Oh no.”

“I see you’re thinkin’ the same thing.”

“No.” Purple wings fluttered as Twilight jumped out of her seat. Feathers rapidly littered the floor. “It can’t be... Impossible!”

“Umm, guys?” Rainbow Dash asked, her eyes following Twilight as the alicorn began pacing around the crowded room. “Somepony want to fill rest of us in on whatever you’re talking about?”

“It can’t be,” Twilight repeated. “The Elements are the ultimate good. There’s no evidence suggesting that the bearers would be adversely affected.”

“And how many bearers besides the princesses have there been, Twi? None. We all know you’d have found ’em by now if’n they ever existed. We can’t know what unnatural things the Elements did to us. If ya got a better explanation, go right ahead.”

“Now see here, Applejack,” Rarity said, raising a forearm. “The Elements being responsible for your—” a hoof twirled in air as if rummaging around for the proper term “—unfortunate condition is pure speculation at this point, wouldn’t you say? Why, if your assertion is correct, all six of us would be similarly affected. Isn’t that right, Twilight?”

She received no answer as Twilight had stopped pacing at some point and returned to her chair. She remained there, fidgeting as few more loose feathers dropped to the floor.

“Twilight?” The unicorn’s voice grew higher in pitch as she asked again. “Twilight, answer the question. Please.”

Twilight tilted her head back while tapping her chin for moment. “...It’s possible, I guess,” she finally admitted to Rarity.
        
“What what what?!”

“But,” Twilight quickly amended. “Again, there is no evidence—”

“And you are certain?” Rarity leaned closer. “One-hundred percent, absolutely certain?”

“Rarity. Twilight,” Fluttershy spoke up. “Why don’t we each get a checkup? That sounds like the best solution.”

“I’m with Fluttershy.” Rainbow yawned. “Let’s all get some shut-eye. It not like there’s a way to find out tonight. Right, Twilight?”

“Actually… I do know of a way we can find out tonight.”





The girls shuffled about while they waited for Twilight to return from the library's basement.

Half an hour had passed since Twilight had cast what she called a crude bodyscan spell and drawn a small sample of blood from each them. Every pony, save one, sat quietly, fidgeting away. 

Rainbow Dash flitted from one side of the library to other, grumbling at the lateness of the hour. "When's she gonna be done down there, huh? Some of us have to wake up for work tomorrow, you know?" 

Before anypony could snap at her, the basement door swung open and the bleary-eyed alicorn emerged trailing a few more feathers from her tattered wings. 

“Well, Twilight, what's the verdict?”

Twilight purposefully ignored Rainbow’s question and instead kept her eyes to the floor as she stalked into the kitchen. Cabinets being flung open followed by the sound of clinking glass could be heard.

She returned with a tumbler and a full bottle of Scotch held aloft in her magic, and slammed the tumbler onto the center table with a bang that made all of her friends jump despite themselves. Not a word was spoken as she unsealed the bottle and poured a generous measure, then downed the whole glass in one single gulp. A brief spluttering cough broke the nervous silence, followed by the glugging sound of more Scotch flowing into the glass, although Twilight stood looking at the second drink for an extended period instead of sending it where the last one went.

        It raised eyebrows. Her friends watched, expressions ranging from surprise to worry. Twilight had never drank hard liquor in their presence before. She was more of a light cocktail type of pony.  

Finally, she pushed the glass away and resealed the bottle before addressing her friends. “The tests were positive, girls.” She reconsidered the glass. “We're all sterile.”

Silence reigned for but a minute.

Rarity jumped from her cushion. “I absolutely refuse to accept it, Twilight! How could this happen?”

“Look! Just calm down and give me a minute to explain, alright?”

Her horn lit up as Twilight conjured up a grid. On one side, she drew six colored silhouettes symbolizing themselves and, on the other side, a pair of larger figures representing the princesses.

“The world is saturated with ambient low-level magic. Ponies have evolved to thrive and use it in our bodies. Thaumantic energy: unicorns channel it through our horns, pegasi through their wings. In earth ponies, magic permeates their bodies, expressing itself in physical strength, longevity, and connection to the land.”

Despite the tension in the room, Twilight fell into the familiar rhythm of a lecture.

“However, channeling too much magic can have adverse effects. Normally, this doesn’t occur as the amount everypony can channel is limited by several factors: natural ability, how much work they put into their talent, et cetera.” Six gems orbited the princesses with a beam of energy firing towards a snake-like figure.

“As you all know, the Elements of Harmony were originally wielded by the princesses to turn Discord to stone. They are technically known as magical foci. Everypony with me so far?"

Fluttershy raised a hoof. “Actually, I have a question. We’ve all been exposed to a lot of magic, if I’m not mistaken. I mean, when she had the Alicorn Amulet, Trixie cast all sorts of spells on other ponies. Why weren’t they affected?”

"An excellent question, Fluttershy. The big difference is that we weren’t just exposed to the Elements. We channeled them. As I stated earlier, there is a natural limit on how much magic an individual pony can use. Alicorns, however, are on a level beyond all the other ponies.”

The gems moved over to the six silhouettes and fired a rainbow-colored beam towards the figure of a tall dark pony.

“When we wielded the Elements, we acted as a conduit for the same level of magic usually reserved for the princesses, artificially bypassing our natural limits, thus experiencing what's technically called a thaumantic overdose.

“Thaumantic overdoses are incredibly rare, so there isn’t much information, but the consensus is that the effects are harmful.” Twilight shook her head and looked down at the floor as she dispelled the illusion. “In our case: sterility.”

“So that’s it then?” Rarity asked, her voice shaky. “We are to remain unable to bear children for the rest of our lives?”

Twilight sighed and nodded. “I’m afraid so, Rarity.”

Rarity trembled for a moment and let her head droop. “Injustice,” she whispered under her breath then lifted her head to glare at Twilight. “Injustice, I say!” she cried, thrusting a hoof in her direction. “Is this fair? Is this just? We stand stripped of the very essence of what makes us mares while you gain wings and a crown?” Her eyes narrowed as she stalked closer. Twilight backed away. “Tell me, Your Highness. How can it be that you, the most studious of scholars, remained ignorant of the Elements’ consequences until now?”

Twilight’s own eyes narrowed at the underlying accusation. “What exactly are you saying, Rarity?”

“I am saying you knew what would happen, Twilight Sparkle. You knew, and you kept it from us.” Rarity turned her back.

“That’s not true!”

Rarity spun back around. “Why? Why should we believe you?”

“Because I already knew I was sterile!” Twilight blurted out. She immediately clapped both hooves over her mouth while everypony else gaped at her.

Applejack looked ready to ask a question, but Rainbow Dash beat her to the punch.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on for a sec, Twilight. You knew you couldn’t have kids all this time? Why didn’t you ever tell us?”

“How long have you known, Twi?” Applejack sat in front of the empty glass case, tracing the indentations left in the velvet where their Elements had once rested. Fluttershy sat next to her, gently stroking the farmer’s mane.

Twilight tilted her head back, tapping her chin. “Years ago. After my entrance exam where I earned my cutie mark.”

“WHAT?” the others cried in unison.

“And you felt it appropriate to keep it a secret from us?” Rarity asked. “How dare you, Twilight Sparkle? How dare you?”

“It was nopony’s business but my own, Rarity. It’s never been a subject I’ve felt comfortable discussing. Nopony had ever seen such a large magic surge in a child before. The Princess had me undergo a full examination by the best doctors and mages in Canterlot. My thaum count was off the charts, more than enough to wipe out all my eggs.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I came to terms with it years ago, made the required changes to my list of life goals, and moved on.” Twilight shrugged. “I’ll leave it up to Shining Armor to continue our branch of House Twilight.”

“Fine!” Applejack spat. “Then at least fix it, Twi.” 

Twilight sighed with a shake of her head. “If only it were so simple, Applejack.”

Applejack spun around; the impact of her flying ponytail sent Fluttershy tumbling with a squeak. “Don’t give me that manure!” she shouted. “Yer supposed to be Little Miss Magic. Well, magic did this to us! Magic can darn well make us whole again! Light up that horn o’ yours and make with the hocus-pocus, darn it!”

“Applejack, please”—Fluttershy tried and failed to pull her into a hug—“it’s not so bad.”

“Not so bad? Not so bad?” Rarity’s voice rose to a screech. “Don’t you understand? Twilight has ruined us! Ruined me! No stallion of any peerage will enter into a marriage without the prospect of producing an heir! What is a mare if she cannot bear children? Nothing, I tell you, nothing! You’ve condemned us all to a life of lonely spinsterhood, Twilight!”

“Oh, please. Will you both stop being such drama queens?” Rainbow Dash said. “So our eggs got scrambled. Big deal.” She continued despite Rarity and Applejack’s collective glares. “You raise your tail for some stallion. Then, BAM! Baby. Who wants that hassle?” She flipped into the air and hovered on her back, casually drifting above their heads. “You’re with me, right, Pinks?” It took a moment for Rainbow to notice Pinkie wasn’t saying anything. “Pinkie?”

Pinkie Pie lay on her back with her legs waving listlessly in the air. Drained of all her normal exuberance, she dully gazed at the ceiling. She held a hoof over her heart.

A nudge from Fluttershy got no response. “Pinkie, come on. It’ll be all right. Don’t cry.”

Pinkie shook her head. “No it’s not. I’m… I’m never gonna have a bun in the oven. Never ever! I always… I always wanted to know, wanted to feel…” She sniffled. “Sometimes, when I throw a little filly or colt a birthday or a cuteceañera... I watch. I watch their parents, and they look so happy… so proud. They’re having fun because their foal is happy.” She buried her face into Fluttershy's chest, dampening the yellow fur with each sob. “I want to feel that happiness! Now I’ll never get to. Ever!”

“What? Seriously? I’m the only one who sees how awesome this is?” Rainbow asked. “Don’t you guys get it? This is liberation! Every week, I get a letter from my folks. It’s always ‘Rainbow, have you met a nice stallion yet?’ this or ‘When are you going to settle down and give us some grandkids?’ that. Lame.”

A barely audible growl came from Applejack, but Dash didn’t appear to notice.

“Imagine me. A mom. Babies and the Dash don’t mix. Babies smell. They throw up on your stuff. They poop. Not to mention they cry. All. Night. Long. Don’t know about you guys, but a world-class athlete needs her Z’s. Plus, think about it. Now, we can all ride without a saddle! You should all be happy.”

“Happy?” Applejack’s furious visage filled Dash’s view. She jabbed a hoof into Rainbow’s belly. “Like you know the first thing about what it means to raise kids, RD!”
 
“ENOUGH!” Fluttershy stormed between the two, tears running down her face and her body trembling. “Stop fighting! You should both be ashamed of yourselves!” She gave each of her squabbling friends a fierce glare. “You’re both acting like foals. Rainbow Dash, we all know how important family is to Applejack what you’re saying is quite hurtful. Apologize.”

Rainbow Dash stood firm at first, then relented under Fluttershy’s continued glower. “Fine. Sorry, AJ.”

“Applejack, I know you’re hurt right now, and Rainbow can be… well… difficult, but she has the right to her own life choices. And if she doesn’t want a foal, that’s her decision and we should respect it.” Fluttershy smiled as she turned to everypony. “I think we’re all missing an obvious solution to our problem.”

“We are?” Pinkie asked through a sniffle.

Fluttershy nodded. “Yes. Just because we can’t have foals of our own doesn’t mean we can’t adopt. Well, I can’t have a foal living in my house because of all my animal friends—Miss Caresalot from the adoption agency was very clear—but it doesn’t mean you can’t.”

Her suggestion met a wall of silence. Then a laugh drew her attention.

It wasn’t a pleasant laugh. No, it was harsh and full of condescension.

“Applejack?” Fluttershy asked.

“Whoo-whee, adoption. That’s a good ’un, Flutters.” Applejack wiped away a tear. “But you can’t love a foal that ain’t yours by blood the same as one that is. Fact.” Fluttershy frowned at that. “’Sides, ain’t never been an Apple who was adopted. Against tradition.”

“There is no way you can be sure of that, Applejack,” Twilight pointed out.

“Umm… I adopted a foal,” Fluttershy whispered.

“But, Fluttershy,” Rarity said, “didn’t you just finish explaining how you couldn’t adopt?”

“Well... I… Umm…” Fluttershy stammered. “I wouldn’t say adopted. Really, more like sponsored. I signed up to sponsor a foal through the Equestrian Children’s Fund. My donations go to a needy filly living in a remote village in Zebrica. Her name is Zuri. We send each other letters every couple of weeks.”

“Sugarcube,” Applejack sighed, shaking her head. “I’m afraid you’re being snookered.”

“What?”

“Those type o’ ‘charities’ just take hard-earned money from kindhearted ponyfolk, such as yourself—sending ya fake letters to make ya think there’s a foal in need when there really ain’t.”

“That’s-that’s not true!” Fluttershy withdrew behind her mane. “I’m very careful. I even asked Zecora. That’s a horrible thing to say, Applejack. You’re horrible!”

“Just callin’ it like I see it, sugarcube.”

“Hey, leave Fluttershy alone!” Rainbow was quick to wrap a protective wing around her childhood friend.

Applejack snorted and rolled her eyes. “What’s the matter, RD? Am I suddenly bein’ too honest for ya? My point still stands. You can’t love a stranger the same way you can your kin. Just the way it is.”

 “I don’t believe that for a second, Applejack,” Twilight said with a frown. “And, may I remind you, you’ve called us honorary Apple family members before.”

“Yeah, what gives? We’re only family when you need apples bucked or cider pressed?” Rainbow Dash added.

“Honorary members means just that, aside from Pinkie o’ course. The Apple family’s as old as Equestria. We got traditions, and one of them is that you only become an Apple by birth or marriage.”

Forelegs crossed over her chest, Dash snorted. “Well that’s just dumb.” Once again, she got a face full of Applejack.

“Don’t you call my family dumb, ya flea-ridden buzzard!”

Twilight moved to intervene before a fight broke out. “Girls, please!”

“Well, at least I’m not crying over somepony who doesn’t even exist. Maybe you forgot, but we saved the bucking world! More than once too.” Dash pointed at the case which once held the Elements. “So we can’t have kids. I say it was worth it!”

“As callous as it sounds, I agree with Rainbow Dash.” Twilight put herself between the two ponies. “The average family has two foals. Measured against the fate of Equestria, twelve ponies never being born is a negligible price.”

“It could’ve been somepony else!” Applejack retorted.

Twilight shook her head. “We needed you, Applejack. Equestria needed the Element of Honesty.”
 
“Oh horseapples, Twi!” Applejack threw her hat on the ground as she shouted, tears forming again. “You can’t tell me there weren’t another honest pony in the whole town ya could’ve made friends with. Heck, the whole of Equestria. Just me, really?”

Backing away, Twilight tried to explain, “It was your destiny. Our destiny. We all received our cutie marks as a direct result of Rainbow’s Sonic Rainboom. That’s proof we were meant to be friends and wield the Elements.”

Picking up her hat, Applejack advanced on the alicorn. “Twilight, I saw RD’s rainbow fart—”
        
“Hey!”

“—damn all the way from Manehattan. It reached all the way there from Cloudsdale, hitting Canterlot and wherever the hay Rarity and Pinkie Pie were as well. You expect me to believe, given all the miles it must’ve spread, out of hundreds, maybe even thousands of ponies, only the six of us got our cutie marks? Now I may not be a fancy mathematician, but that there sounds like what they call a bucket of horse manure.”

Twilight bit her lower lip. Applejack’s statement made absolute logical sense. It had never occurred to her to actually look into the possibility of the Rainboom linking other ponies together. It was something to research, but the fact remained there was still only one Element of Honesty and Applejack needed to accept it. “I am sorry, AJ. You’ve every right to be upset, and if you want to lash out and blame me, I’m fine with it. But by whatever mechanism guided the Elements, they chose you to be Honesty.” She shrugged her wings. “It was fate.”

Applejack gave a mirthless laugh. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks, staining both her coat and the carpet as she marched over and opened the front door.

“Honesty? What a laugh. How ’bout this for honesty?” Turning around, she pointed back at Twilight.

Twilight grimaced as she braced for Applejack’s parting shot.

“I wish I’d never met you, Twilight Sparkle!” 




> Chapter 2: Frayed Thread
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Lullabies Unsung



Chapter 2 : Frayed Thread



Honeysuckle perfume saturated everything. Carried in by the gentle breeze, it wafted through every nook and cranny of Sweet Apple Acres.

Apple blossoms lay in full bloom.

Spring was Applejack’s favorite season.

Usually.

Atop a grass covered hill overlooking the southern orchard, Applejack sat under Buford.

Few if any fruit fell from Buford’s branches anymore. The tree had been a victim of a particularly nasty blight which had swept through the southern orchard one season long ago. Still, Applejack always opposed cutting him down, and for good reason.

Buford was Pa’s favorite tree. As he once told her on a cool summer evening, just the two of them hot and sweating from chores, “Sometimes after a long day of apple bucking, you just gotta sit back and look at the big picture. I reckon Buford’s a nice enough chair. At least that’s what my Pa told me.”

He called Buford a thinking tree. Comfortable enough for sitting against, but with a trunk speckled with enough bumps and lumps to keep a pony from dozing off. Besides, Marygold was the napping tree of the farm. Buford weren’t so rude as to take her job.

Best of all, Buford didn’t judge. He never offered any opinions or made a pony feel ashamed. Not like the patch of red ambling up the hill she spotted from under the rim of her hat.

A firm believer in farm, family, and literacy—especially how they came together—Applejack had the worst poker face in Equestrian history, and she knew it. But she still took small pride in her ability to read others; such as Apple Bloom swearing that the vase was broken before she arrived, or the times Big Mac was being… more Big Mac than usual. Like today.

The stalk of grass hanging from his square jaw was an open window into Big Mac’s mind. Most of the time it was a single blade of bluestem, just for thinking and general contemplating; although on occasion, he would explore new and different vistas of thought, which required new and different fuel for those thoughts. Wheat meant plans forming around exactly how to handle the year’s harvest, while a truncated stem of foxtail warned of a stubborn streak where the big lug would work himself into the darkness without a break unless a little sisterly tongue-lashing was applied. And the less said about the rare occasion when Big Mac was chewing on a stem of wild oats the better.

Today it was a fresh stem of mint; no leaves, just the scraggly ragged marks that indicated all of the thoughts had been chewed out of one end and been frugally reversed for a second round of serious thinking.

Her brother fancied himself the silent sage of the family who blessed his baby sisters with pearls of wisdom. It was comforting, in way, to know he was always there as a solid support; though it got under her skin the times he forgot she was a grown mare, not the little filly riding piggyback from years gone by.

Simpler times.

She wasn’t really sure which she wanted right now.

“You been layin’ under Buford all morning?” Mint rolled to one side somewhere between apprehension and annoyance.

“Eeyup,” she replied from under her hat.

“It’s been five days, AJ. How you feelin’?”

Applejack didn’t raise her eyes beyond the tip of the stalk of mint. It wobbled in the soft breeze. “...Still angry, I guess,” she finally said after taking a moment to consider.

She was robbed of that small advantage, however, as her brother moved out of sight, and she felt the thud of his rear hitting the grass as he mirrored her pose on the opposite side of the trunk. Surprising really. Big Macintosh never did like Buford much. Many a switch had come from his branches to meet a misbehaving colt’s backside to turn it an even brighter shade of red.

She heard him draw in a deep breath of the crisp spring air. “She didn’t ask you girls to come with her, you know?”

Wise old sage it was then. Lucky her.

She let out her own sigh and tilted her head back to look amongst the branches. There was a woodpecker resting not too far up. “I reckon I know. Considerin’ I was there and all.” She could almost see in her mind’s eye the stalk of mint making another circuit. Likely counterclockwise as he parsed his next words.

The woodpecker fluttered to the trunk. Three raps sounded.

“You know it weren’t Twilight’s fault then?”

“I know,” she sighed. “I’m right ashamed, big brother. I said some downright rotten things to her. Unforgivable things. Not sure I can face her.”

“Eeyup, ya did. Yer lucky you’re too old for Granny to tan your hide.” Just as expected, he didn’t mince words. “Don’t matter none though. I doubt there’s any such thing as unforgivable when comes to you gals. Not with all the craziness ya’ll have been through.”

Another sigh. “Can’t say I even know what to tell her,” she muttered, shaking her head.

Four raps.

“Welp, you’ve got bit more time to think on it,” he said. “Spike stopped by. Little guy’s worried ’bout all’a you gals. Turns out Twilight’s goin’ on up to Canterlot for a while.” Applejack heard him shift, getting back on his hooves. “You should probably head on down to Fluttershy’s in the mean time to apologize to her.” 

A sick feeling formed in the pit of her stomach. “And how am I gonna look her in the eye, Mac? Can’t unchop that tree,” Applejack said, getting back to her hooves. “Even if I say I’m sorry, it don’t change how I feel ’bout this adoption business.”

Big Macintosh sidled up next her and let out a snort. The stalk of mint pointed south in disapproval. “That there’s just Pa talkin’, AJ.”

“Yeah, it is. Pa never steered me wrong when he was alive.” She ignored his snort. “Even if you two didn’t always get along.”

A rare scowl appeared on his features. “Can’t love a stranger’s foal the way you can your own? Now that’s just a load of manure and you know it.”

“But what if it ain’t?” she snapped.

“And what if the sun burned out tomorrow? Ya can’t live your life by what ifs, AJ!”

“Can’t I?” she shot back. “Say I adopted some kid, and I don’t feel what I oughtta? Is that fair to ’em? Wake up, serve ’em breakfast and send ’em off school with a fake ‘I love you’ every mornin’?” She shook her head sadly, tears forming, and bolted down the hill as fast as she could, her brother watching her all the while. “It’s wrong, Mac. I can’t take that chance. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”

She was halfway down the hill when he called out after her, “Pa weren’t always right!”




“I want to thank ya again for comin’ round, Miss Fluttershy,” said Granny Smith, sitting a plate of fresh apple fritters down on the crowded table. Company was time for sharing the best, and from the sweating pitcher of fresh lemonade to the empty glasses waiting to be filled, every vessel wore bright shiny red apples normally only seen peeking from behind the glass door of the family china cabinet.

“I’d ’ve dropped by your house m’self, but with my hip and all...”

Fluttershy turned a gentle smile as she served them both. Icecubes tinkled and popped as she poured the lemonade, the warm summer sun drawing out the invigorating aroma of fresh citrus. No box mix could hope to compare. The flavor was so bright, so alive, bringing back memories of summers long-passed and lemons picked at the peak of ripeness, hoof-squeezed with just a touch of sugar. It didn’t matter they weren't Apple family lemons. They were Apple family neighbor lemons, and the taste of friendship was only sweeter when shared.

“It’s no trouble at all, Mrs Smith.” Her soft smile faltered a smidge. “Will Applejack be joining us?”

“Just call me Granny, child.” Pops and creaks marked the protests of old joints as she eased herself into her rocking chair. “And no, she won’t.” She sighed deeply. “That’s the reason I called ya over, dearie. I wanted to apologize to ya. Once the liquor wore off, Applejack felt right ’shamed over what she said, as right she should,” said Granny, shaking her head. “Not excusin’ her behavior. No Siree! Talkin’ nonsense like it’s gospel! Tch! Like my Ma always told us, ‘Ya gotta cherish the fruit no matter what tree it falls outta.’ Like what you’re doin’. It’s right big-hearted of ya, payin’ for a child all the way on the other side of the world. Makes me wish I had some extra bits to spare.”

“Oh yes, it’s wonderful,” Fluttershy said, opening up her saddlebags and removing a stack of pamphlets that all covered different topics related to sponsorship or adoption. Paperclipped to one was a photograph of a little zebra filly with a big smile Her blue eyes were looking directly at the camera and a pink butterfly clip was affixed to her braid, making her look as if she were ready to step right out of the picture. “I wish I could meet Zuri someday.” Fluttershy shook her head sadly. “But the sponsorship rules are rather strict about the kind of contact we’re allowed to have.”

She took another sip, an almost inaudible sigh escaping her lips. “I’m not angry with Applejack, Granny. I mean… I mean what right do I have? I’m sure she didn’t mean those terrible, mean things she said… Not that I think she’s terrible! I’d never think that! She was just upset.

“Oh, I know she doesn’t think I’m stupid, or careless, or…” The glass trembled and Fluttershy found it best to rest it back on the table. “I mean we did go and bother when she wanted to be left alone and…” she slumped into the chair despite the discomfort to her wings. Another sigh, this one louder by one degree. “I just-I just… I wish she’d just talk to me again, Granny Smith.” Fluttershy sniffled, hugging herself and rocking.

“And she will, sugarcube. Trust me, she will. In her own time. You just gotta give her some time is all. AJ may act like a tough ol’ scrape o’ leather most of the time, but I know my granddaughter. She knows she’s done you wrong and should apologize. Scared and ashamed is all.”

“Scared? Of me?”

“Mmmhmm.” Granny nodded. “Scared of what you’ll say. Scared she ruined y'all's friendship. As for why she said what she said, it’s a bit a tale.” Eyes closed as she eased deeper into her chair. “Now my husband was a good stallion. Hay, I wouldn’t a married him ifin he weren’t. But he weren’t perfect. Had some odd notions now and again. One o’ those was you can’t love a stranger’s child the same as your own blood. A load of pig slop I told ‘em, but he had that Apple stubbornness. As it turned out he passed on those same notions to our son, nevermind my best efforts to contrary.

“Big Mac, he took after his mother. Strong, silent type of mare. She didn’t go in for that nonsense, but Applejack, she was always Daddy’s Little Rodeo Princess. Hung on his every word. Not sayin’ all he taught her was wrong. All in all, he brought her up right. She wouldn’t be the mare she is today t’weren’t for his lessons, but… Dagnabit. I don’t know. Maybe if I’d spoken up, things would’ve turned out different.”

Fluttershy started to reply, but they both turned as the door creaked open.





“Granny I’m…” Catching sight of Fluttershy, she stopped. “Oh… I didn’t realize we had company,” Applejack said, averting eyes, her hat a refuge, a thin one at that, as Granny fixed her with a sharp glare that dragged her forward into the room even as her mind wanted to flee. The old mare rose to her hooves with a few popping sounds, never once breaking eye contact until she turned away with the words Applejack least wanted to hear.

“I’ll just leave you two to it then.”

Applejack watched as Granny left. She stared around the room, anywhere but at her friend. At least until she felt a soft touch on shoulder.

“Applejack, I—” 
“Fluttershy, I—”

An embarrassed pause as Fluttershy scratched the floor. Applejack rubbed her neck.

“Why don’t you go first?” she offered.

“No, no. You first. I insist,” Fluttershy prompted

“Fluttershy, I…” It felt more comfortable to follow the grain along the floorboards. “Horseapples, I don’t know why this is so hard, so I’ll just say it! Fluttershy, I’m–I hurt your feelings! I feel plumb awful ’bout it.”

Fluttershy found herself pulled into hug filled with all of Applejack’s strength, strength she returned without hesitation to whisper, “Don’t worry. I forgive you.”

Neither wanted to pull away as those few moments of warmth and touch were equivalent to an entire hour’s worth of cheap words. Applejack wiped away a tear. “I was upset. I didn’t think about how what I was saying would affect you gals.”

“It’s okay, Applejack.” Fluttershy passed her a tissue. “We were all under a lot of stress that night. I guess… I know we all said things we regret.”

Applejack took the offered tissue with a grateful nod and blew her nose. “And I thank you for that, Flutters.”

And she truly, truly did. The sickness from the morning. The ball of tension in her belly that had wound and wound itself tighter and tighter all week long, finally loosened. All it took was one glance at the pure forgiveness in Fluttershy’s eyes. She chuckled quietly, feeling a mite foolish for expecting anything less from the kindly pegasus.

“It’s more than I deserve, I know,” she said with a sniffle. Clearing her throat, Applejack straightened her hat. “Now, knowing you, Fluttershy, you’ll say we’re square, but I still feels I owe you. So how ’bout I make you some lunch for starters?”

The offer of an Applejack prepared meal. Tempting, but, taking a glance at the clock, “Oh no.” Fluttershy replied, shaking of her head. “Thank you for offering though. But it’s getting into the afternoon, and today’s the day I buy fresh birdseed and I’m almost out.”

“How about a raincheck then?”

“Oh absolutely. I look forward to it.” Fluttershy smiled as she walked towards to the door. “By the way, I left some pamphlets about adoption on the table… in case you change your mind, that is. Not that I’m trying to push you or anything,” she tacked on.

“I know. I know. Mighty kind of ya. Have a safe walk home.”

A wave, and once Fluttershy disappeared passed the front gate, Applejack turned her attention to cleaning up, returning pitcher, plates, and glass back to the kitchen. She collected the pamphlets into a bundle, and after pausing briefly by the trash can, stuffed them into a kitchen drawer with the rest of the junk mail.





Burning hair.

Burning hair mixed with leaves.

The stench was heavy enough to make passersby retch in disgust. Rarity didn’t mind the smell. She’d grown accustomed to it, in fact. 

Opening another window was a such a bother, especially after all the trouble she’d gone through lighting the fireplace.

The sign was flipped to ‘Closed.’

Rarity hadn’t left Carousel Boutique in two days.

She stared at the blank page. It mocked her.

Only a few days previous, she had started work on her latest and most ambitious line. What she had expected without a doubt to be the talk of the season.

Spring - Life's Renewal

Only a single dress of the six she had created survived the fireplace. Two days of work had added nothing to her collection but charred ashes. To dispose of the remaining dress would have been an admission of guilt, a confession that she was bothered by her newfound knowledge. As long as it remained, she was merely changing a few middling details in the line. Nothing serious, of course.

Rarity hadn’t left Carousel Boutique in three days.

The plan was to just do ‘whatever came to mind.’ It had not turned out as well as she hoped.

An entire bolt of chenille was cut into tiny rectangles in a frenzy of activity.

The wastebasket overflowed.

The sign remained ‘Closed.’

Rarity hadn’t left Carousel Boutique in four days

There was a mess on the floor.

Or rather more of a mess than Rarity's usual controlled chaos. The Inspiration Room lay in tatters, drawers pulled open, fabric criss-crossed across the floor.

Yet…

Yet she still could see no pattern.

The door to the Inspiration Room gained a padlock.

The sign remained ‘Closed.’

Rarity hadn’t left Carousel Boutique in five days.
         
The sign was marked ‘Open’ and a merry sunshine streamed through the windows.

Her calendar informed her of a visitor today and only three hours to prepare. Not that Rarity had forgotten, mind you. Goodness no! That would be unheard of. She was of sound mind after all. In any case, today she was not just Rarity. Today she was also The Proprietress.

The Proprietress had taken a two hour bath. A teensy bit excessive even for her, but two hours turned out to be the time required to wash away the stench of failure. The expected perfumes, powders, and hair products were deftly applied, the curling iron was put to proper use, and only one artificial beauty enhancement was left: the perfect smile.

The mask was complete.

One didn’t stay in her chosen industry long without one, and Rarity had perfected many over the years.

There was no time for regrets. It was time for work.

All leavings were swept into back rooms and closets. The windows opened wide to allow the refreshing spring breeze to whisk away the incriminating odor of soot and fire. Rarity made sure no visible evidence remained.

Not a moment too soon, as the bell above the entrance chimed. Rarity made note to have it removed. It was far too merry.

“Bonjour, Miss Rarity!” Fleur di Lis waltzed into to the showroom with all the grace and poise Rarity had come to expect from the professional model. “How good to see you. I trust you are well n’est-ce pas?” she asked, embracing and kissing Rarity on each cheek.

“Moi?” The mask remained firmly in place. “Why, I am wonderful, darling. Perfectly wonderful!” the Proprietress said with the extra cheer expected of her, returning the gesture. “How are affairs with yourself?”

“Oh, I cannot complain for work,” Fleur replied as Rarity lead her to an already set tea table. “Photo Finish, she keeps me so very busy. Even with new blood joining the company.” A frown marred her delicate features. “But these new models. Merde!” she swore, an event Rarity was one of the few ponies besides her husband privileged enough to witness. Coarse words delivered in such an elegant language. Rather like wiping one’s bottom with fine silk.

“They are… how you say, ‘the female dogs’? Always with the snide remarks,” Fleur spat. “The backstabbing! Not like my generation at all,” she complained, shaking her head in dismay. “It grows so, so tiresome. You are lucky to live in the quiet countryside, Rarity. Free of the clucking hens. Free of troubles.”

“Yes, free of troubles.” Rarity repeated as they sat down.

As they chatted, it felt odd; Rarity, for the life of her, couldn’t quite fathom why. In many ways, Fleur was the type of friend she always dreamt of: charming, well-mannered, gifted with an impeccable sense of fashion, plus a vivacious spirit—a stark contrast to her more down-to-earth husband.

And yet she was a giving soul. Rarity had first spoken to her at length during one of the many charity balls thrown all over Canterlot. They’d become fast friends over shared interests: the latest high society gossip, what was in this season, even tales of Rarity’s past adventures surprisingly enough. It turned out Fleur was a bit of an adventurer herself, having traveled to far and remote places of the world as a goodwill ambassador.

In fact, the tea set was a gift from the couple. An antique found during a trip to the Shetland Isles, it was a bone china affair done in the style favored by the post-unification unicorn nobility. Rarity especially delighted in the raised leaves of ivy which chased bouquets of purple violets. Fine gold decorated the edges.

The teapot gently floated in a field of blue and she poured tea—strong black tea, spiced with clove, imported straight from Chenneigh. Very expensive.

Normally, Fleur’s visits were the highlight of her month. Tea and dainty cucumber sandwiches were served alongside a generous helping of juicy gossip.

Yet, now, the travails of the Canterlot Elite, complete with its affairs and scandals— news once certain to elicit at least a coo of delight—left Rarity unsatisfied. The once tasty morsels flavorless. Shallow and meaningless, she found herself unable to absorb any of it.

Rarity suspected why… But, of course, no. Everything was quite normal. 
        
“Ma chère, n'êtes-vous pas tout a fait d'accord?”
        
The inquiry came as a surprise. Had not the mask offered the expected cursory nods? Titters at proper intervals? She was certain it had.

“It’s nothing, dear. Nothing at all,” Rarity said. Fleur tilted her head to one side, and Rarity quickly changed the subject. “I was just imagining how stunning you shall look in my new spring line.”

To her relief the promise of a sneak peek at something new grabbed Fleur’s attention, who clapped with glee.

“Wonderful! Wonderful! You will let me try it on, oui?”

For all her melancholy over the mysterious disappearance of her muse these last few days, Rarity did admit Fleur’s slender frame made her one surviving design look fantastic.

One of her admittedly simpler pieces, designed for both looks and wearablity. A loose fitting shortsleeve top stitched from breathable linen, dyed a light shade of pink, the top cinched at the waist by a belt one shade darker. A rose-colored miniskirt composed of faux-leather completed the outfit. A rather daring hemline stopped just above mid-thigh, but Fleur was one the few ponies she knew gifted with the legs to pull it off.

She was so caught up in examining the model from every angle that Rarity failed to catch Fleur speaking.

“...It’s a shame about Lord Bottle Brush, oui?”

“I’m sorry, dear. What was that?” The left shoulder drooped slightly. It could do with a little straightening.

“Lord Bottle Brush. His title is to be passed to his younger brother.” Fleur tutted as pin, scissors, and measuring tape orbited the stage. “Such a shame. All because the poor stallion cannot produce an heir. How unfortunate. They say that where he tills the soil, nothing grows. Ouch! Rarity, ma chère! Please, careful with the pins s'il vous plaît!”

“So sorry!” The Proprietress scrambled to cover the web of tiny cracks forming in her mask. Just slivers really. She just needed a moment. “But surely,” she said, having moved behind her client to fiddle with skirt’s hem, “he is still welcome in our circle? He is still a stallion of peerage, after all.”

Fleur’s giggle sounded like tinkling glass. It reminded Rarity of the wine glass she’d dropped on the kitchen floor that morning.

Why she hadn’t gotten around sweeping the shards into the trash, she couldn’t say.

“Oh, Rarity. This is why I love visiting you. You are one of us, but still maintain that air of delightful country town innocence about you,” Fleur tittered, a hoof over her mouth. “But non. The rules, unsaid as they may be, they make this quite impossible. Once you are out, you are out. Et c'est tout. Such a sad tale. Luckily, not something either of us need worry about, n’est-ce pas?”

“No,” Rarity replied, still making a show of fixing the skirt. “Nothing to worry about at all.”

“Oh, Je suis désolé, Rarity.” Fleur pouted as she turned to glance over her shoulder. “I have upset you with this depressing news. Zut alors! I speak without thinking. You forgive me, non?” She gave a playful twirl on the dias. “This outfit is simply darling. I’ll recommended it to all my friends.”

Rarity returned a small smile. “And when have you not loved one my creations, my dear?”

“Hmm…” Fleur made a show of thinking by lifting a hoof to cradle her chin. “I cannot think of any moments. Oh!” she exclaimed. “Before I forget, Fancy and I shall be vacationing in Haywaii next week.”

“So early in the year?” asked Rarity. “It’s hardly summer, dear.”

Fleur waved her question away. “It was a last minute whim of his. My poor husband has been working himself to the bone lately. A getaway will do him a world of good. I was hoping to pick up a bathing suit while I was here.”

“A bit early in the season, but I may have something.” A number of drawers were pulled open and a train of swimwear soon floated through the air. Rarity sent Fleur into a nearby changing room after selecting a tasteful, but high-cut seablue one piece and matching sarong.

She was putting away the remaining swimwear when the same sickeningly cheerful bell marked another visitor.

“Rarity, I’ve been worried sick! As soon as I saw the boutique was open again, I ran right over! It’s been almost a week!”

Spike…

He wrapped his little arms around her neck, pulling her into a warm hug. She didn’t reciprocate. Her eyes darted to the drawn curtain of the changing booth.

“Spike, sweetie.” Rarity weaved a glowing smile and turned, tossing her curls just the way she knew he liked. “Whatever do you mean? I am quite sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, drawing a frown out of the dragon. As gently as she could manage, Rarity began ushering him back towards the entrance. “Perhaps we can chat later. I’m afraid I am quite, quite busy at the moment.”

“Rarity, stop!” Spike planted his feet firmly in the ground and frowned up at her. “You don’t have to pretend nothing’s wrong. Twilight told me everything.”

Her eyes widened, mask cracking. She hesitated a glance back again towards the curtain. “Don’t be silly, Spike.” Her nervous laugh failed to deter him. He wrapped his little arms around her neck once again. She tried to pull away, but it was no use.

Why did he have to be so infuriatingly supportive?

“I know what you’re doing, Rarity. I’ve read about this. You’re in denial.”

“I am not in denial about anything, Spike!” Her voice rose as he finally released her. “And I certainly do not have a problem,” she huffed. “I’ve simply been busy. The muse is fickle. Now, it’s been wonderful seeing you, but I think it’s best if you take your leave.”

Much to her frustration, he simply crossed his arms. “No way. I’m not leaving so you can lock yourself away from everyone again.” He shook his head sadly. “You really hurt Twilight, Rarity. You and Applejack. She’s leaving tonight to stay in Canterlot for a few weeks. I was hoping you girls could patch things up.” He clearly wasn’t prepared for the look of pure loathing which erupted on her features.

“Patch things up?!” she hissed, forcing him back a step. “How would you say I patch things up, Spike?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Oh be quiet, Spike!” The mask shattered into tiny fragments as she flung it across the room. “What do think? Do you truly believe the situation can be fixed so easily? I will never bear children, Spike! This isn’t something that can simply be glued back together like some… some cheap, mass-produced plastic figurine!”

“Rarity,” Spike whimpered. “Please. I was just trying to—”

“Trying to what?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. A wave of emotions crested and she rode them. “You truly are a child, Spike,” she told him. The fire in her heart went out, turning into arctic frost: cold, cutting, emotionless. How dare he presume. This boy. This whelp. How could he possibly understand her pain? “Let me ask you a question. Do you believe me blind?”

He flinched as if cut. “Of course not, Rarity! I would never think that!”

She cut again, unheedful as he shrank before her. “Then do you truly believe I don’t know about your little... ‘infatuation’?”

Spike settled for staring down at his twiddling fingers. He couldn’t even look at her. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Did you really come to comfort me, or did you see this as an opportunity? Perhaps you thought, ‘Now that no stallion will have her, I can swoop in like some fairytale knight to rescue his maiden? She should be thrilled! With children no longer a concern, we, a dragon and a pony, can finally be together! Is that what ran through your mind as you dashed across town to see me, Spike? Well? Speak up!”

His silence told her everything she needed to know.

“Spike,” she said with finality. “I believe you should leave.”

“But—”

“Leave, Spike.” She held the door open. “Now.”

As Rarity watched him run away, his sobs fading into the distance, all energy drained out of her. Despondence measured her heart for drapes and rugs, and proceeded to bring all of its furniture along. Guilt soon followed, nailing pictures to the wall and stomping around in hobnailed boots. Spike hadn’t deserved the tongue lashing she’d inflicted on him. 

Rarity made to take a step forward, to gallop after him, to catch him. It wouldn’t be difficult. Four legs outdistanced two. She could apologize, explain herself. He would accept it, she knew. Softhearted Spike, always so forgiving, especially to her, the least deserving. 

But she hesitated. She just felt too tired. Not sad. Not angry. Just tired.

“Rarity?”

Fleur. She’d forgotten. Of course. But what did it matter now?

“I assume you heard everything, dear.” Rarity lacked even the energy to turn around. Spike was out of eyesight now, but she could still see every falling teardrop in her mind’s eye. A heavy sighed trailed into a small laugh. “I suppose I’m uninvited from your next soirée. Please give Fancy my regards, won’t you?”

An unexpected, yet gentle hoof came to rest on her shoulder. “Ma pauvre, pauvre amie.” Rarity found herself pulled into a warm embrace with taller placing her head on top of hers. “You believe truly we would abandon you, now, when you need us most? Vous êtes une imbécile. You think so little of us, n'est-ce pas?”

“What about ‘When you are out, you are out’?”

“I can’t deny that, I’m afraid,” Fleur admitted with reluctance. “But, you are not Lord Bottle Brush. We barely knew him. Where you, you are our dear, dear friend. You don’t have to worry about us keeping your confidence.” She withdrew her foreleg and reached down to cup Rarity’s face, lifting their gaze level. Rarity’s makeup drew a map, thin black lines marking her cheeks for one to navigate her regret. Fleur cleaned them away with gentle wipes of a silk handkerchief. “You know what you must do now,” she said after the cloth had become saturated, now no longer white. “Ce pauvre enfant. You must go after him, oui?”

Rarity sniffed, wiping her eyes clean. “Yes, you are right, Fleur. I’ve hurt my poor Spiky-Wiky dearly. My apologies for all this… drama, but I must cut our visit short.”

Fleur offered a dainty wave. “Don’t worry so. Go. I can look after the shop for you,” she offered as Rarity returned a nuzzle of her own.

Rarity pulled herself together “Thank you, dear. I’m off—”

“Rarity!”

A white blur knocked the wind out of her as Sweetie Belle cannonballed into the shop. The first thing she noticed was the growing patch of moisture matting her coat as Sweetie sobbed into her chest, tears and unmentionable mucus pouring out in an unstoppable torrent.

Rarity ignored the patch of snot left on her chest which, in other circumstances, would have sent her screaming to the shower tout de suite. “Sweetie Belle! Whatever is the matter, dear?”





> Chapter 3: Bare Branches
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Lullabies Unsung



Chapter 3: Bare Branches



The Cutie Mark Crusader clubhouse was normally buzzing with activity as the three little ponies engrossed themselves in energetic plans to seize the day and strike out into the sleepy town in search of excitement. And cutie marks, of course.

Not today. Today it was very quiet, much like a volcano before the eruption that destroys the village at the bottom of the slope.

Three little ponies sat around a scarred  table, each delaying the coming topic in their own way. Scootaloo idly blew upwards, making her forelock flap. Sweetie Belle kept looking at the curtains, trying to figure out if there were any scraps of cloth in Rarity’s recycling bin that would look better than the curtains they had just pieced together last week. And Apple Bloom stared at the floor.

Finally Sweetie Belle said what was on her and Scootaloo’s mind. “I don’t understand why you don’t just tell us. I mean we’re friends!”

Scootaloo added, “Yeah! What she said. Friends share; isn’t that what we always say?”

“But this is family,” moaned Apple Bloom. “I can’t tell you. Applejack made me promise. It’s got her all tied up into knots.”

“Well, Rarity’s knots are tied up in knots,” said Sweetie Belle. “She just mopes around the shop with all the curtains closed and does stuff. Weird stuff. What about Rainbow Dash, Scootaloo?”

Scootaloo shook her. “Nope! Dash seems perfectly normal. As a matter of fact, she’s even more dashical than usual! Dashical’s a word I made up by the way. It’s ten points above awesome. So, anyways, after we got done with my flying lesson, I stuck around to watch her practice, and its gotten even more awesome! I’m talking at least ten times as awesome!” She gestured for them to lean closer. “Because, now don’t tell anypony, but Rainbow’s been practicing some banned stunts. Banned!” she squealed, wings abuzz. 

“Crazy dangerous stuff! Stunts even the Wonderbolts won’t do like the Dead Mare’s Drop and the Suicide Spiral! Sure, her stunt completion percentages are way way down and her crashes are way way up. But Rainbow Dash doesn’t let a few cuts and bruises slow her down.”

Sweetie Belle looked up. “I didn’t know you could calculate percentages.”

“Of course I can't. That's math junk. Sport statistics are completely different. I mean, one deals with numbers, and the other is awesome flying. Duhhh.”

“Will you two stop yammering if I tell y’all what’s going on?” They both quieted down and Apple Bloom, in stops and starts, spilled the beans. About Applejack, the Elements, everything.

After she’d finished, nopony appeared to know what to say, and they sat, quiet. A bluejay landed on a branch near the window, returning to her nest with food for her young. Their chirps marked the passage of time in place of the clubhouse clock. Apple Bloom still hadn’t replaced the battery.

Sweetie was the first to break her silence. “Oh my gosh! No wonder Rarity’s locked herself away! I wish I knew how to cheer her up,” she said in a glum voice.

“Yeah, can’t say I know how to help AJ neither,” added Apple Bloom in the same tone.

Looking at the two droopy faces, Scootaloo shot up. “Buck up, girls! I’ve got just the thing to turn those frowns upside down. Be back in a flash.” And she was back in a flash, dragging a sack from which she emptied out a...

“Tada! Our very own Official Cutie Mark Crusaders Sewing Machine Mark I!” Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle peered at it. It was far older than any of the models at the boutique. Constructed of brass and powered by a pedal assembly, it looked like it belonged back in what Granny Smith called “The Good Ol’ Days before all that new fangled electricity made everypony lazy good for nothing.”

“Now we don’t have to bother Rarity when our capes get messed up.” Scootaloo pointed out.

With a touch of unease, Applebloom squinted at the sewing machine. The hoofwheel was rusted for one, and who knew where the needle had been. “I sure hope you got all yer shots before touching this hunk of junk, Scoots.”

Rolling her eyes, Scootaloo took out a cloth and wiped at the rust stains leaving a relatively clean exterior. “C’mon, it’s just a little surface rust. No big deal. It’s fine. Trust me. I fixed it up myself.”

The other Crusaders shared a dubious expression. “And where exactly did you buy this?” Sweetie Belle asked. “Didn’t you spend all your allowance last week on milkshakes?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault Rumble challenged me to a milkshake drinking contest. What did you expect me to do, say no? Besides, I found this beauty at the junkyard.”

Sweetie Belle immediately scooted away from the machine. “You mean this is somepony’s garbage? Ewww!”

“Hey, you know what they say: one mare’s trash is another mare’s treasure. And will you stop wiping your hooves on the curtains, Sweetie! I cleaned all the parts before I put it back together. Don’t you girls trust me?”

“I don’t know.” Sweetie still hesitated. “Are you sure it won’t explode or anything?”

Throwing her hooves in the air, Scootaloo let out a frustrated groan and pushed on the pedal.

And the sewing machine didn’t explode, or fall apart, or somehow cover them in tree sap.

Unexpected

Two fillies sat with their mouths hanging open while the third had a smarmy grin plastered on her face.

In fact, Scootaloo looked quite proud of herself as the needle slid up and down in smooth, fluid motions.

“Well butter me up and call me a biscuit! It actually works!”

“Well duh! That’s what I’ve been saying all along,” said Scootaloo. “Now how about a test run?”

It didn’t take long to load up the sewing machine with supplies ‘borrowed’ from Rarity’s supply closet. On Sweetie’s suggestion, a quick patch job of the clubhouse’s frayed curtains was chosen as the first test subject.

The machine ran smoothly, punching holes and lopping thread in a straight, tight line of stitches. Apple Bloom operated the pedals while Sweetie feed the curtains. They were almost a quarter of the way finished when Scootaloo piped up with a problem.

“Ugh! This is going soooo slow!”

“I’m pushing as fast as I can!” Apple Bloom panted and ceased pumping the pedal to wipe away the sweat from her brow. “I’d like to see you do any better. Not like this doohickey has a motor or we could just power it with somethin’.”

“Hmm… Power it, eh?” Scootaloo hummed, tapping her chin for a second. “I got it!”

A quick rummage and a small mess later, she presented a small pale-blue crystal mounted on a base with a length of wire running from the bottom. “Twilight told me about this once. A lot of old machines had special ports built in so unicorns could power them with their magic if they used a focusing crystal,” Scootaloo explained as she inserted the plug into a socket near the rear of the sewing machine.

Applebloom narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “And where did you pick up that there crystal from, Scoots?”

        “I may have forgotten to put it back last time we were in Twilight’s lab,” she replied without missing a beat as she fiddled with the hookup.

“Scootaloo! You can’t just take Twilight's stuff like that!” Sweetie Belle scolded. “You’ll get us all in trouble.”

“Will you girls chill? I’ll give it back the next time we visit. No harm, no foul. Now let’s crank this baby up. Apple Bloom, you feed in the curtains. Sweetie, tap your horn to the crystal and give it some magic.” As she watched, Sweetie’s horn glowed, humming softly as the crystal blushed green in sympathy. The needle moved. Slowly, but it moved, faster with each passing second. “Yes! You’re doing it!” Scootaloo cheered as she danced around. “Maybe we can get techno-magic cutie marks for this! Give it some more juice!”





Applejack was sweeping the porch when she heard a distant crack of lightning that roared into a earth-shaking explosion. A cloud of smoke billowed into the air from the direction of the clubhouse, followed by a series of blue and green sparks that drifted up with the breeze. “What in tarnation?” Dropping her broom, Applejack went straight into a frantic gallop. “Apple Bloom!”





Her ears were ringing, her eyes were burning, but all the rest of her body parts seemed intact. Apple Bloom rolled on her stomach and coughed, trying to resist a groan when she saw the results of their experiment. The clubhouse was a mess… well more of a mess. A blackened scorch mark on the floor outlined the last location of the sewing machine, a charred trail strewn with fragments of twisted metal indicated its path. The jagged hole in the clubhouse wall—somewhat smaller than she expected to be fair—was all that marked the tragic passing of the Official Cutie Mark Crusader Sewing Machine Mark I. Just great. No way those burn marks were buffing out. She’d have to replace the floor boards.

She checked her rump out of reflex, sighing when the Rorschach test cutie mark—which she admitted wouldn’t have made a lick of sense when she actually thought about it—turned out to be patch of soot. She flinched as she rubbed off the stain. “Ouch, Dang it!” Looking again, no cutie mark, but she had earned a nasty cut along the inner thigh of her rear-left leg. “...And I’m bleeding. Wonderful.” She didn’t pay it much mind. Not the first time she’d been busted up and wouldn’t be the last. “You girls alright?”

“Yeah.” Scootaloo picked herself up from the corner where she’d been thrown before hobbling over to help up Sweetie Belle. “Just my ankle. You okay?”

“Yes. I think so,” Sweetie groaned as she wiped away a thin layer of soot from her horn. “But I don’t think Twilight is getting back her crystal.”

They all looked down at the tiny mound of pale-blue sand. A fresh breeze blew through their newly ventilated clubhouse, and, as they watched, carried the particles around the maze of sewing machine parts embedded in the floor, ending in merry dance out the still smoldering rip in the wall.

“Apple Bloom!” They turned as Applejack barged in. She took one look at her sister’s bleeding leg before grabbing the first aid kit off the wall and running over to check on Apple Bloom. “What the Sam Hill happened here?!”

The girls took that as a cue to speak all at once.

“Woah, woah, woah.” She gestured for them to stop. “You’re tellin’ me you blew up a sewing machine while my sister was sitting right in front of it?” she asked, voice growing shrill as she stared down at the little unicorn.

“It was all Scootaloo’s idea!” Sweetie protested.

“Hey!” protested Scootaloo, “Don’t throw me under the wagon!”

“I don’t care who’s idea it was!” Applejack stamped the floor, freezing them in place. “The fact is you used magic when ought notta!” she shouted, ignoring the tears starting to trickle from Sweetie. “What if Apple Bloom got more than cut, huh? What if she got hurt real bad, or even killed!”

“It was just an accident, sis,” insisted Apple Bloom, tugging at her sister’s leg. “Ain’t you being a little harsh?”

“Harsh? Apple Bloom, just take a gander at yer leg and tell if I’m bein’ too harsh! Nope. I ain’t taken’ no more chances!” she replied, and turned on Sweetie Belle. “Get out!”

“What?” Sweetie Belle sniffled, a river of tears starting to trail down her cheeks.

“Get out of the treehouse and off my farm! Apple Bloom can’t see you nomore, on account of I don’t want her hurt none. Grab your stuff and get out!”

“But this is our clubhouse!,” said Scootaloo.

“Yeah! You can’t do this, AJ!” Apple Bloom yelled at her. “You ain’t got the right!”

“I can so. It’s mah farm, mah land, so I get to say who gets to stay on it, an right now, I want you off my property, Sweetie Belle. And don’t come back, ya hear? Not ever!”

“But, AJ!”

“Hush up, Apple Bloom! It’s for your own good!”

“No it ain’t!” Apple Bloom shouted, stomping her own hoof. “I’m gonna tell Granny on you! Sweetie, don’t you listen to her. I’ll fix this… Sweetie?”

But Sweetie Belle didn’t appear to be listening. Sitting in a pool of tears, she stumbled to her hooves and bolted out the door.

“Sweetie, wait!” Scootaloo made to go after her before her ankle gave out and she fell on her face.

It didn’t matter how much her leg hurt, Apple Bloom lunged after her friend, kicking, screaming, shouting Sweetie’s name, begging her to come back. But Applejack’s grip was too strong, holding her back, corded steel tendons trembling, limbs conditioned to buck apples all day. Apple Bloom felt none of the usual warmth in her elder sister’s touch, just a cold, crushing grip, her lips drawn in a thin line and jaw firmly set. She couldn’t recognize who this pony was at that moment.

Apple Bloom glared, hurt, angry, disappointed, a boiling cauldron of negative emotions she’d never felt before. All focused on somepony she loved, that she respected so much. To have her faith betrayed like that…It just made her feel…feel...

“I hate you, AJ! I hate you!”





Spike didn’t know how much time he had spent sobbing on a park bench. He’d have likely stayed there the rest of the day if Fluttershy hadn’t come along. After taking one look at him, the pegasus had bundled him off to Panini’s Cafe, Ponyville’s outdoor restaurant.

Thankfully, it wasn’t Sugarcube Corner. He really didn’t feel up to dealing with Pinkie Pie right now.

Neither had said a word since placing their orders. Fluttershy remained with a kind smile, apparently content to let Spike take all the time he needed. It wasn’t until their food arrived, a pickled beet salad for her and a grilled cheese sandwich dusted with crushed sapphires for him, that what happened at the boutique spilled out of him.

The sandwich tasted like dirt. He barely finished half as Fluttershy watched, taking small bites of her salad while offering careful nods and comfort here and there.

“It’s very hard for Rarity right now, Spike. Hard for all us,” she said, after he finished. “We both know she gets… rather emotional. I’m sure she didn’t mean any of it.”

Spike drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. “I don’t know, Fluttershy.” He trembled. “You weren’t there. I’m not blind. I know Rarity can be a bit…” He spun a claw as he searched for the right term. “Theatrical? But this wasn’t one of those times. This was real. I’ve never seen her so upset. So, so angry. And do you want to know the worst part?” he asked, looking up. “I think she was right.”

“Oh, Spike, you know that’s not true.”

“No, Fluttershy. Rarity was right. When I walked over there today, a part of me was hoping this was it. She’d finally give up chasing those Canterlot stallions, and I’d have a chance.” A disappointed chuckle escaped. “I’m no knight in shining armor, Fluttershy. All I am is a selfish, greedy little dragon who only thinks about himself.”

Reaching across the table, Fluttershy cradled his claws warmly. “Spike, look at me. Look at me,” she repeated and waited for him to look up. “You are a wonderful, kind, and generous little dragon. We all think so. We don’t say it enough, but we all love you. Just because we are all having a tough time right now doesn’t mean we love you any less.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He wicked away a tear. “How come you seem okay with not being able to have kids? No offense, but I expected you to be the most broken up, Fluttershy.”
        
She returned a soft smile. “Oh, I accepted not having children a long time ago. My animals friends are enough,” said, patting her saddlebag. “Besides, I have my letters to Zuri. What about Twilight, Spike? I stopped by a few times but she doesn’t answer the door.”

“Honestly, I’m really worried about her, Fluttershy.” He shook his head and sighed heavily. “She’s turned the library upside looking for someway to reverse what the Elements did to you guys. Believe me, it’s a mess. I just had to get out of there. It’s gonna take me hours to clean it all anyway after she’s left for Canterlot tonight.”

“Canterlot?”

“Yeah, the Palace library is humongous. Twilight practically lived there before we moved to Ponyville. Who knows, maybe the princesses can help her out. I don’t know. What stinks is that I can’t help at all.”

Fluttershy blinked. “What makes you say that, Spike?”

“I’m a guy. I guess I don’t know how you girls feel,” he tilted his head back and stared at the sky, “so I don’t know how to help.”

“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, Spike. Twilight needs you. She’s your… sister? Mom? Oh my, come to think of it. I’m not sure…”

“Mom? No, no. Twilight’s my….” He tapped a claw against his chin. “...kinda my part-time sister, part-time boss, full-time best friend. It’s complicated.”

“What about your parents? Oh, I’m sorry, Spike. I forgot,” Fluttershy backpedalled only for Spike to wave away her concern.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got no idea where my egg came from. I’m kinda adopted. On paper I’m a “Ward of the Crown”.” He shrugged. “Twilight was way too young to take care of me when I was hatched. First couple of years, I was raised by the Princess herself. There was a nursemaid who took care of me whenever the Princess was busy.”

His smile grew warm at the memory and Spike closed his eyes.

“I called her Nana. Don’t remember her real name, but she was one of the Princess’s oldest hoofmaidens and the only one who wasn’t scared of me. Rumors of a dangerous dragon living in the castle kinda raised a big stink back then. A lot of the staff, the nobles too, had a problem with it. Not Nana. She believed, ‘A child’s a child. Doesn’t matter. Be they pony, griffon, or dragon. A child’s like a changeling. They need love to grow right.’ When I was old enough, I moved in with Twilight’s family. Twilight's mom didn’t mind if I called her mom.” His smile faltered. “You know, I haven’t visited them in a long time...”

Fluttershy nodded. “I think they would be thrilled to see you.”

Spike opened his mouth to agree, but was interrupted by the clearing of a throat.

“Bonjour, may I sit,  s'il vous plaît?” Hearing no objections, Fleur took a chair and turned to the pegasus who’d taken to refuge behind her mane. “Pardonnez-moi, but I had to speak to Monsieur le Dragon. A private word with him, s'il vous plaît, Mademoiselle Fluttershy?”

“You-you know who I am?” Fluttershy squeaked, recognizing the famous fashion model. It was hard not to. The magazines at the spa sported covers with her likeness all the time. She squeaked again as Fleur parted her mane, exposing her to the elegant unicorn’s perfect smile.

“Of course I recognize you. Photo, she speaks often of you, the one who got away. A shame,” she tutted, cupping Fluttershy’s face. “Such lovely features, non? A natural beauty. Je suis très jalouse,” she grumbled with a playful air. “So much time I require under the makeup artist’s brush.” She let Fluttershy go, and the pegasus quickly tossed bits on the table as she hurried to to leave.

“I’ll just leave you two alone, then. Remember what we spoke about, Spike.”

He nodded, watching her scamper away before turning his attention to the remaining pony at the table. “Sorry. I’ve seen you around Canterlot, but I can’t remember your name.”

“Fleur di Lis,” she replied and offered her hoof which, remembering his lessons on etiquette, he gently kissed.

“Honoré de faire votre connaissance, ma dame.”

“You speak Prench? Très impressionnant.”

He shrugged off the compliment. “Not a big deal, really. You’re kinda expected to pick up these things when you’re an assistant to royalty, you know. Languages, etiquette, protocol, what fork to use. Basic stuff.”

“So modest. You are a much stronger and older dragon than many give you credit for, mon petite, but even the strongest diamonds have their cracks. I witnessed what happened earlier. I came to apologize to you, Monsieur le Dragon.”

“What? Why? You didn’t do anything.”

Fleur simply shook her head. “Our Rarity, she has been struck a rather vicious blow where she is most vulnerable; and, I must confess, I did little to help her in this time of need, but instead struck that same wound with my foolish words. So in a way, the injury done to her most loyal friend was my fault, so I must beg your forgiveness.”

“Most loyal friend?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Why of course,” she continued. “I must confess a bit of jealousy when she speaks of you. My Fancy, he is a magnificent stallion whose passions burn with fire, but compared to what Rarity speaks of you? Mere embers.”

“Fire, huh?” Spike asked, perking up then drooped just as quickly. “I don't feel very much like fire right now.”

“Non, mon petit chou. Love is the inferno which cannot be quenched.” She leaned over and gave him a peck on the forehead. “Like a phoenix, it is reborn from the ashes every time, stronger and more vibrant than ever.”

“Really? I got to go talk to her!” he said and hopped out of his chair, only to halt as he saw her hoof was raised.

“Non, Monsieur Le Dragon. Not now. Mademoiselle Rarity, sa sœur, she is plus désemparé. Sweetie Belle, the poor sweet filly, she sheds many tears,” she tutted. “Cette angish. Si triste… That is why I came to find you. If you return now, Rarity would be torn between sa petite soeur and yourself. Such a choice would hurt her even more at this time, it is true.”

Spike’s expression fell. “Oh. Bummer. Do you know what happened to her?”

“Non. It sounded very personal, but quite serious. I did not wish intrude.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Taking care of Sweetie is more important. There’s got to be a way I can help, but what?” Arms folded again while his head tilted back to glare at the clouds.

A flock of ducks passed overhead...

“Ugh! I got nothing! I’d ask Twilight, but she’s leaving for Canterlot to look for an answer to their…. problem.” His eyes lit up. “But maybe…”

Fleur sent him a moue of disapproval, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Your Twilight is leaving for Canterlot? Alone? Without her indispensable assistant? Surely this is not so?”

“Not anymore. If anypony can find a solution to this problem, it’s Twilight.” Spike made to run, yet paused, looking over his shoulder. “Tell Rarity where I went, and I tell her…” He shook his head. “No. I’ll tell her myself when we get back. Merci, ma dame!”

“Bonne chance à vous, Monsieur Le Dragon!” Fleur called as she watched him rush off in the direction of the library. “Bonne chance!”





She jumped as the door slammed and Big Macintosh stomped in. He wore a frown, and it grew more severe, catching sight of the amber bottle cradled in her hoof.

Applejack made a poor show of hiding the bottle behind her back. “I wasn’t gonna drink it.” He didn’t need to see the shifty eyes, or the way her mouth scrunched up to know it was a terrible lie.

Those heavy eyebrows lowered and his green eyes narrowed into slits. “Where’s Apple Bloom?”

She waved a nonchalant hoof towards the stairs. “In her room, sulkin’.”

“Granny?”

“Sleepin’.”

“Kitchen. We need to talk.” Without another word, Big Mac snatched the bottle away. Head lowered, Applejack followed, tail tucked between her legs.

As Applejack settled down at the kitchen table, she lacked the will to look up, but stubbornly remained studying a knot in the floor. It was a good knot. An interesting knot. Far more interesting than the sounds of Big Mac moving around the kitchen. The clatter of opened cabinets, the click and rattle of several jars being shifted around—ancient pickled beets from the sound. The clunk of the jug lifted out of its hiding spot and placed on the table. The metallic chiming of good mugs, followed by the laconic glub of a thick fluid filling them. The gurgle went on long past normal and well into disaster territory. A large chipped mug invaded her vision, redolent with the spicy smell of sassafras, filled nearly to the brim with Sweet Apple Acres Special Hard Cider, and Applejack pondered how much of a liver she’d have left come morning.

It seemed a fair trade.
        
She tilted her mug back, taking slow, measured gulps, her eyes staying glued to its lip. It did a great job blocking her view of the sprig of wheatgrass hanging out the left side of her brother’s mouth. Pa always used to chew on a sprig of wheatgrass when his dander got up, no matter how much Ma used to glare in disapproval at what she called a disgusting habit. The barest twitch warned her she was in for an argument, and she took another draft.

The old family recipe made for a dry, crisp taste with a very pleasant tart flavor to temper the sweetness. Award winning and sought-after the land over.

It might as well have been warm tapwater as far as her tastebuds were concerned. She watched him take small measured sips.

“Miss Rarity stopped by the stall today. Was looking for you. Wanted to have a little chat. Mare was madder than a snake married to a garden hose on honeymoon.” He held up one large hoof, forestalling her response. “Don’t worry. I talked her outta marchin’ over here.” He grunted. “She was ’bout ready to poke ya full o’ holes. Had a saddle full of needles… probably.”

“Nah. Knowing Rarity, she’d more likely scold me to death,” she replied with wry amusement.

A smile tugged at his lips for a moment, “Eeyup,” and disappeared quick. “Reckon, I only bought you a day. You’re gonna have to tussle with her sometime. She’s got all the right in the world to be upset, AJ. You got no business runnin’ her sister off the farm the way you did.”

The cider jug wobbled violently as Applejack banged the table. “The hay I don’t! It’s my job as her big sis to protect Apple Bloom!”

The wheatgrass shifted left. “Protect her from what? That filly’s been banged up way worse before.”

“What? You sayin’ I should just let her alone to bleed?”

“Ponyfeathers, AJ. You know that ain’t what I’m sayin’. Those fillies get into all sorts of crazy shenanigans. What’s so different this time that ya blew your stack at a little filly so bad you sent off her bawling like her heart was about to burst?”

“Sweetie Belle was using magic, darn it! Right next to her!”

He stared at her with an incredulous expression. “So what? Sweetie Belle’s a unicorn. These things happen. It’s not a big deal.”

“You bet your biscuits it’s a big deal, Mac! You want what happened to me to happen to Apple Bloom? I can’t risk it! I can’t!”

“That’s what this is about?” He sighed, rubbing his temple and took a deeper pull. “AJ, that filly can barely float a broom for less than a minute. You told us what the doctor said. What happened to you was a one in a million thing that takes more power than well nigh any unicorn in Equestria could ever use. It ain’t gonna happen to Apple Bloom.”

She shook her head. He didn’t understand. How could he? It hadn’t happened to him. “You don’t know that for sure? What if you’re wrong? I can’t take that chance.”

“You know how close she is with those two. What are you gonna do? Keep her from school? Follow her around everyday ’til she has her own family?”

Applejack held firm. “I’ll just have ta hold my ground. Explain it’s for her own good.”

He couldn’t help the chuckle, earning a stormy look. “Them three might as well be sisters. You tell Apple Bloom she can’t see ’em and she’s just gonna ignore you. Probably climb out her bedroom window if she has ta. What you gonna do then?”

“Well maybe I’ll just mosey on down and cut a switch from Buford,” she spat. “Fixed you whenever you gave Pa any lip!”

As soon as those words left her lips, she wished she could take them back. His face lost all humor, turning hard as stone. The same blank mask she’d always seen him don when Pa’s switch came down.

Old wounds.

“Look, Mac… I—”

He loomed over her with a single, “Eenope.” The stalk of wheatgrass quivered with indignation barely constrained, and she shrank in her seat. Big Mac had never, never hit her, even when she’d deserved it. If it happened here and now, she wouldn’t blame him. She’d never deserved it more.

Instead, Applejack felt a sudden conspicuous rush of cool air at the top of her head. She looked up to find him marching out the kitchen door with nary a backwards glance. After a moment, Applejack gave chase.

“Mac, wait. C’mon stop! And give me back my hat!”

He did stop at that, slowly turning around with the same flat look. “Nope. I don’t know who you are, stranger, but this here’s my sister’s hat. Perhaps you’ve met her. Good head on her shoulders. Nice to everypony, especially foals. Doesn’t have her head rammed up her plot.”

Applejack sighed, fighting to keep the exasperation bubbling up inside from spilling out. “Mac, I’m sayin’ I’m sorry, okay? Now stop acting like a foal and give me my hat.” He held the Stetson up and out of range as she reached for it. “Dang it, Mac! I said I ain’t playin’. Now give it here!”

“Eenope. My sister’s lost outside somewhere right now. I’m just gonna hold on to this for safe keepin’ ’til she finds her way home again. Don’t matter to me how long. I’ve been told I’m a right patient stallion.”

Applejack grit her teeth as she watched him plod up the stairs and vanish into his bedroom. She spun round with a snort. It didn’t matter. Joke was on him. They had an entire closet-full of hats.

She walked on over and yanked the knob.

Locked.