Things May Come And Things May Go
The Golden Oaks had burned bright and long. Even after Tirek had been taken to Tartarus again and magic had been returned to his victims, the old tree cast a baleful light throughout the town. By morning, at least, it had been extinguished to smoldering embers.
Spike had done much of the recovery work. While Twilight had worried for him, there was no denying he was the best choice. Fireproof, light, strong for his size, and possessing dexterous claws few ponies could even try to match, he was the perfect one to sort through the wreckage and recover the scant few things that remained.
And it was scant.
Almost none of the books survived - even those that did were scorched or sodden from the aftermath. The only intact survivor was a copy of Cadance and Shining Armor's wedding album that had been enchanted for durability.
The cast iron pot in the kitchen had bravely sacrificed itself, sheltering a fork, two spoons, and one saucer under itself. It took the brunt of the blast - warping terribly - but it saved the smaller items from complete destruction.
Nearly everything in the basement was crushed; all the linens and clothing were burnt away; ink evaporated; quills incinerated.
In the end, the entirety of Twilight and Spike's surviving possessions were contained in a single cardboard moving box.
It was a sobering moment to see their lives reduced to so little. Thankfully, there was help to recover. From Rarity swearing to replace every missing piece of clothing to Princess Celestia opening up the treasury to replace Twilight's books, all of their friends came together.
The greatest of the gifts was the chandelier that now hung in the Map Room - made from the Golden Oaks' roots and covered with the crystalized memories of the Bearers' time together. What had been lost couldn't be returned, but they could build anew from the rubble.
That evening, Spike slept in a proper bed for the first time while Twilight put away one last box of replacement books. It was silent in the new castle - too big for just the two of them and still far too empty.
The emptiness made it easy to hear the knock on the front doors, the echo going on for leagues. Twilight was fortunately fairly close and it only took her two minutes of trotting to get there, each step loudly clacking on the crystal floors.
Arriving at the doors, she opened them to find Big Mac on the other side - up far past farmer's hours. She raised her eyebrows in questioning surprise.
He bowed his head. "Princess Twilight."
And she rolled her eyes. "Mac, of all ponies you should know I'm just Twilight."
He raised his head with a little smirk. "That was 'fore you had a castle."
Wryly smiling back, she waved him onwards with a wing. "Please, come in."
Entering, Big Mac only made it one step before stopping. He looked down with consternation before taking another step - and frowning more at the loud, echoing strike of steel-shod hooves on crystal. Twilight watched as he took a third step with slow, deliberate care and managed to make only minimal noise.
"I'm planning on ordering some carpet," she noted with a strained smirk.
It was enough to break the tension and make them both laugh. His was far more nervous.
Another careful, nearly silent step and Twilight took pity on him. Rather than going deeper into the castle, she closed the front door and took Mac to the nearest room. Which turned out to be a substantial coat closet turned workshop - Rarity had left it cluttered with raw materials and half-completed projects. Most of the deep purple fabric was likely to be the drapes, but even with that focus Rarity had left the beginnings of a sun dress laying on the table as well. (The sight made Twilight smile a little more and mentally leave a reminder to look surprised when Rarity eventually gave it to her.)
The room lacked chairs, but a low storage chest was close enough to a bench for Twilight. She sat - then patted the space next to her with a wing when Mac stoically stood. It took another few seconds of hesitation before he reluctantly joined her.
An eerie, awkward quiet sank down on them for more than a minute.
"...So," Twilight said, just to break the silence.
Big Mac took a deep breath, then let it out in an echoing sigh. "Ah heard 'bout what your friends did for you. The roots and all that." He glanced to Twilight. She nodded and he continued. "Made me think a lot about it. What happened, Ah mean." His eyes focused on the floor between his hooves. "Losing everything you had like that… it's tough. Can't imagine what it'd be like to not have…" The normally silent stallion had to pause, lips dry and throat tight. "Not to have those reminders."
The way he stressed the word sent Twilight's memory to the Apple farmhouse and the things inside it. Heirlooms and mementos and most importantly pictures. Old portraits, some from when the family was fuller. Her own body tensed up at the momentary thought of what such a loss would do to the family.
In the moment of that thought, Twilight missed Big Mac moving. He shifted, reaching down to his saddlebags. "Legacy's important, Ah figure. Keepin' the bits of your past anchors your future, Granny says. You lost a lot of that." He held out his hoof to her. "But not all."
Smarty Pants.
The raggedy gray doll sat in Mac's oversized hoof. He usually moved with care, but this was different - there was a sag in him, like the little doll was too heavy for him to lift. She took it in her magic, giving it a slow spin so she could inspect all the angles.
There was new wear here and there. Some dust. Also a few repairs, done by a hoof that was more used to heavy work than fine details but doing its best. In all, used but maintained. And perfect to hold. Twilight didn't even realize that she'd been bringing the doll closer until it floated into her chest and she reflexively hugged it.
Mac watched in silence, smiling and teary-eyed at the same time.
After basking in the familiar softness, Twilight looked up again. "You kept her?"
"Eyup."
"And took care of her."
"Eyup."
"Why?"
That couldn't be summed up in a single word, and took Mac a few moments to organize his thoughts. "When the whole pile broke up and Ah ended up with it, Ah didn't know who's it was. But it wasn't hard to tell that it was important to somepony. There's love there, and that deserved respect. So Ah took it home until somepony could claim it." He shifted uneasily. "Plus Ah really liked it."
Twilight couldn't quite hold back her giggle.
Cheeks redder than normal, Mac continued. "Since then… not sure what to say. It felt right to have. Bein' around it made things a little brighter."
"She's a good listener, too," Twilight softly added.
This time, Big Mac was the one to chuckle. "It is." A pause. "She is," he corrected. "And soft. Not like a blanket soft, like a–"
"Like a pet," Twilight suggested from experience. "One that lets you hug it. Something to hold on to and cry into when you're sad."
Mac nodded slowly. "Comforting. Which is why Ah figure you need her more than me right now."
Twilight looked down at the worn gray doll. "...Right now." She turned her head to look at him - even as he didn't look at her. "Thank you, Big Mac. I promise I'll return her."
"If you want to. When you're ready. Don't rush on my account."
The Princess of Friendship leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I Pinkie Promise."
He went home with a blush in his cheeks and a warmth in his heart.
She slept soundly, curled under the sheets with her oldest friend.
The newborn colt was a near perfect melding of his parents. His father's mane, his mother's eyes, and rich purple coat halfway between theirs. Unsurprisingly he was a huge foal, but Sugar Belle had soldiered through the birth with grace. Now he lay in his mother's embrace with his father in a chair at the bedside.
The day had been a procession of friends and family for the parents had quite the network. And even when you eliminated the Apple family from the equation, there were still dozens and dozens. Some simply provided their well-wishes, like Double Diamond or Rainbow Dash. Others like Rarity or Party Favor brought gifts. A few - well, mostly just Discord - had to be discouraged from gifts for everypony's safety. (He had reluctantly agreed, at least until the newborn was out of the hospital.)
One of the last was the Princess of Friendship herself, fresh from Canterlot. By the time she arrived it was well after sundown and visiting hours were technically over - but to a Princess, 'technically' was irrelevant.
She entered and immediately motioned them to stillness with her wings, pre-empting any attempt for the mare just out of childbirth to try bowing. Mac - years more comfortable - simply gave the most powerful pony in Equestria a pleasant nod.
Twilight approached, looking at the newborn with a sunlit smile. "He's beautiful."
"Thank you." Sugar Belle smiled back - hers less bright, but only from the exhaustion. "And thank you for coming."
"I had to." Twilight's eyes slipped to Big Mac's face. "I have a promise to fulfill, after all." Her magic reached back and pulled out a little doll - gray cloth, patched and sewn up a hundred times. Cared for with love, it hovered in the air so both parents could see.
Big Mac's wide eyes watched it, and his voice was barely a whisper. "You remembered."
"I remembered." Twilight set the doll in Sugar Belle's arms, snuggled against the colt. "Her name is Smarty Pants," she told the mother. "She was mine when I was a foal and was my best friend." Leaning down, she kissed the child's forehead. "Hopefully, she'll be his, too."