The cool winter breeze blew through Applejack’s mane, and, with a deep breath, she turned her head into the gust, her bangs blowing back over the brim of her hat. Little snowflakes caught in her eyelashes, and she laughed as she blinked them away.

Funny how things worked out, she mused to herself as her eyes scanned the orchard. I couldn’t a’picked a better time to get pregnant. I’m at my heaviest when the least amount a’work needs to be done.

She glanced back at the small hill she’d crested, and her smile widened---between her hoofprints was a long line where her belly had dragged through the snow.

She tucked her head down between her forelegs, and chuckled as she patted her bulging abdomen. “Hope y’ain’t gettin’ cold,” she whispered. It had been months since her foal had last used her magic, which, according to the books Twilight had foisted upon her, meant that her tiny horn had long since finished developing. Applejack had some idea of what to expect now that she was in her third trimester; the baby’s body was taking its final shape, and it seemed like she was trying to experiment as many movements as possible. In fact---

“Ugh!”

With a concerted groan, Applejack leaned to her left, hissing hot breath through her teeth as she lifted a hindleg. “Well.... tha... that’s a new one,” she panted, rubbing her knee against the side of her belly where she’d felt the pointed pattering of little hooftips. “Guess you can do cartwheels now.”

Something blunt and conical squeezed against her hide, and with a warm smile, Applejack kneaded her hindleg against the protrusion. It was a game they’d learned to play together: the foal would press her muzzle out, wait til she felt Mama push back in, and then go merrily bouncing around inside. Applejack wasn’t sure how much the little one understood, but she could play that “game” without fail... sometimes even when her cargo ship was trying to sleep.

With a practiced shrug of her shoulders, she unholstered her harness and turned toward her cart. It irked her that she’d been given the “lightweight” chores. Even Apple Bloom was doing more around the place than she was! Big MacIntosh had steadfastly refused to let her even think of doing the pruning, lest one of the branches fall and crush her, and despite her protestations (“That hasn’t happened since I was a filly!”) he had Granny on his side... so she was left trudging around the orchard, feeling like some wet-behind-the-ears farmhand who had to be coddled as much as the trees this time of year.

Applejack sighed as she plucked a cold glass bottle out of the cart. No use fightin’ with him, she figured. Even though that painful day was several months behind her now, just thinking about it still made her cringe. She hadn’t been able to figure out how best to break the news of Flim’s departure to her brother, so she’d ended up blurting it out, along with a flustered squall of tears. It would have been so much better if he’d exploded with anger. His anger she could handle... but seeing him break down crying was more than she could bear. She’d ended up feeding him nearly a full barrel of cider, and while he was sleeping it off she had patiently cleaned up the bales of hay he’d kicked around the barn. Sweet Celestia, she hadn’t seen him sob like that for years.

Uncorking the bottle, she reflected on how gentle the long, stretching months since that night had been. Big MacIntosh had certainly been sour during his hangover, but once he’d recovered they’d spent a surprising amount of time talking it over, his colthood stutter tugging out his sentences. He mumbled about his horror, his shame, his fear, his admitted stupidity, and.... and, of course, he mentioned that damned yew tree, even though he refused to give her the explanation she'd been hoping for. They’d gone out to see a movie together, and ever since then he had dutifully gone out to do any errand she sent him on. Hot peppers, cupcakes, ice packs----anything. He ran like an atoning sinner.

She paused, the bottle of dormant oil in her mouth. Just behind the tree she was about to treat was a snowmare. Applejack dropped the bottle and leaned in closer, peering at the life-sized face. Odd. Her sister still made snowmares from time to time, but they tended to be lumpy and childish. This one was meticulously-sculpted---it almost looked like a real pony.

Just as she was about to tap the snout, it exploded outwards in a flurry of white and pink. “HI!!”

“Gyah!” She skidded backwards and slumped against the tree, gasping and brushing the flecks of snow off her face. Her heart was in her damn throat. “Fer Pete’s sake, Pinkie Pie! One a’these days yer gonna do that and I’m-a drop the foal right on the ground!”

Pinkie giggled as she bounced in place, kicking up snowdrifts around her ankles. “Oh, goodie! I want to be there when li’l AJ Junior’s born!”

With a reluctant smile, Applejack eased herself back to her hooves and adjusted her hat. “Yeah, well, you better start carryin’ a defibrillator on ya, ‘cause that nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Ooh, no! Is the pregnancy putting a strain on your heart?” Before she could dart away, Applejack was covered with swirling pink hooves rubbing around her shoulders and barrel. “Are you having blood pressure problems?” Pinkie went on, a frog on her friend’s jugular. “Dizzy spells? Seeing little black dots? Or little red dots? Or multicoloured ones? Or squares? Or big dots? That would be a lot worse! Have you talked to the doctor about this? Are you---“

“Pinkie!” she said as she swatted her away. “I was jes’ kiddin’!”

Her face brightened. “Well that’s a relief! I came all the way out here to give you a surprise, and I’d just kick myself if I made you sick! Can you imagine?”

Seeing her chest inflate as she drew a breath, Applejack decided to butt in before Pinkie could start another spiel. “A surprise? Fer me? Aw, that’s real sweet!”

“Yup! I got it right here!” She stuck a hoof into her mane and began to dig around, her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. “Hmm... there it is!”

She pulled out an origami crane made out of a gum wrapper, and frowned. “Nope, that’s not it. Just a second!” Another fumble, and this time she pulled out a monkey carved from a coconut. “Nuh-uh. Oh, wait! Maybe it’s in my tail.”

This time when she pulled her hoof free, Applejack took a few quick steps backwards. “That’s weird,” Pinkie said. “I didn’t know I owned a hacksaw!”

“It’s okay if you forgot it, y’know.”

As she was replacing her items, her eyes lit up and she slapped her forehead. “Wait a minute! Silly me---I left it back at Sugarcube Corner!”

“I could swing by after dinner---“

“No way! We’re going right now!”

She glanced back at her cart. “Uh, Pinkie, I appreciate it, but I got a lotta work to---“

“Caramel!”

She’d barely had time to blink when Pinkie suddenly produced a familiar pony, seemingly from behind her back. “Ta-da!”

She shook her head. Damn. Years, now, of knowing Pinkie, and she still couldn’t figure out exactly where she stored all of her ‘surprises’. “Wh...”

“Caramel said he owned you a favour, so he’s going to do your work for a few hours!” she said brightly as she gave him an overly-firm slap on the back.

Applejack twisted her mouth to the side, eyeing the stallion as he gave her a shy wave. “Okay. So whatever this is, yer in on it, too?”

“Just lending a helping hoof,” he said, not quite meeting her stare.

She’d opened her mouth to speak, but Pinkie darted around her and grabbed her by the elbow. “C’mon, ‘cuz! This is kinda time-sensitive!”

“Uh---“ She wasn’t sure how it was possible, but with Pinkie dragging her, they were already halfway across the field. Craning her neck around to face Caramel, she called out “Be sure to get the oil on the pruned spots, and---“

“He knows what he’s doing, AJ! C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!”

“Can ya do me a favour and quit tuggin’ at me like that?”

“Sure thing, so long as you can keep up!”

“Jes’ don’t expect me to bounce,” she said wryly.

“Sooooo....” Pinkie said, drawing the vowel over a few octaves, “Have you thought about what to name li’l AJ Junior?”

“Uh...” Her ears almost folded back, but she managed to keep them straight, not wanting her friend to notice the upset in her emotions. “Flim wanted to name her ‘Loophole’, but---“

“But FUCK that asshole, right? Am I right?” She jumped right up in the pregnant mare’s face. “Or am I right? Right?”

“PINKIE!”

“Ooh! I have some ideas!” Pinkie’s eyes flickering around the scroll she was holding with the cowlick at the front of her fluffy hairdo. “I jotted these down the very moment I heard you were pregnant! The very instant! The insta-mome-second!”

“Uh, I appreciate it, but---“

“Howsabout Honey Crisp?” She flashed a toothy grin. “You said the foal was big for her age---and Honey Crisp Apples were specifically cultivated for having larger-than-average cells! They’re high in hemicellulose!”

The hide around the back of her neck bristled. How in Celestia’s name did Pinkie know more than her about---?! “That... uh... maybe?”

With a quill she’d drawn from somewhere under her armpit, Pinkie made a mark beside the name. “Gold Rush?”

And that’s when her ears did flatten. Her great-uncle had lost his life venturing for gold up North. “No way.”

“Y’know, most ponies don’t have a superiffic name-memory like mine. Keeping track of which of your family is which will get pretty tricky if you keep using apple-based names! Is there an Apple family rule about what you’re allowed to name your foal?”

“N...o,” she said hesitantly. She was already concerned about how to tell her extended family that she was having a unicorn; if she went and named her something strange, they might never cotton on to it. “Why do you ask?”

She tapped the tip of the quill against the scroll, sweeping the feather against her pouting lips. “’Cause there’s this one Twilight thought of.”

“Shoot.”

“Hesperides.”

“Hes-a-what?”

“Hesperides!” she repeated. “The ancient goddesses! The sacred guardians of the Golden Apples!”

Applejack had to move her mouth about a few times, trying the new word out, rolling it around on her tongue. “Hesperides...”

“Doesn’t it sound cool?” she said as she struck a dramatic pose against the horizon. “Think: the mighty Hesperides! It’s like a name from some epic poem!”

“The guardian of the apples...?” It was both so sweet, and so unusual. It seemed fitting for the first Apple-born unicorn, and yet---

“We’re here!”

The squeaking of snow under their hooves had stopped, and in wonderment Applejack squinted the dwindling late afternoon sunlight out of her eyes. The magic of Pinkie had turned what was normally a long walk had turned into a hop, skip and a jump.

A little unnerved, she coughed and said “Say, while we’re here, mind if I pick up a baker’s dozen of those new cookies you came up with?”

“Sure thing!” Pinkie chirped, steadying a hoof on the doorknob. Her grin didn’t look any weirder than normal, but it seemed to tremble around the edges. “Why don’t you come on in?”

Just as Applejack was about to politely thank her for holding the door open, her bangs were blown back by a gust of air as dozens of voices cried out

“SURPRISE!”

The rattling cacophony made her ears ring, and yet it sounded happy and pure. Her joints trembled as she stared at the scene in front of her; from wall to wall, the bakery was filled with ponies---her friends, her neighbours, her family, and some she’d only seen in passing. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Spike clicking his jaw a few times before lighting the candles on a fluffy pink cake; beside him, Zecora accepted an offered party favour, and after a few clumsy attempts, blew it out in a flourish. Rainbow Dash was swooping back and forth in front of a huge banner that read IT’S A FILLY!

“Surprise!” Pinkie squealed as she bounded around the frozen Applejack. “It’s a baby shower! All for you! Do you like it? Huh? Do you like it?”

The poofs in her mane shuddered a little, and then deflated nearly to flat when she saw the look on her friend’s face. “Wh... you... you don’t like it?”

Applejack wiped her fetlocks over her dripping muzzle and tried as hard as she could to snuffle her snot back up.

“D-don’t you like it?” Pinkie whispered as her tresses unwound limply against her neck. “I... I tried my hardest to---“

And then her mane bounced back into place when her sort-of-cousin grabbed her in a tight, tear-stained hug. “Oh! Happy-crying!”

Flim didn’t even look up from his book when he heard the knock at the door. “Do you have free food or booze?”

“No.”

“Then go away.”

He rolled his eyes when he heard the doorknob turning, then rattling. “Don’t even bother, Trixie. I locked it.”

Stretching out his hindlegs, he turned the page and settled down into his pillow. Flam had been pestering him for weeks to ‘get out and enjoy life’---whatever that meant---and now it seemed he’d asked his marefriend to help him with the nagging. Just as well---brushing his own brother off was difficult, but Flim had no trouble doing the same to Trixie.

The doorknob stopped jiggling, and for a few seconds there was silence. His ears pricked up when he heard a disconcerting snick---and jumped right off the couch when she threw the door open with a triumphant smile. “What the---?! How---?”

She snickered, tossing something in his direction. “Trixie jimmied it with her credit card.”

The tendons in his neck tightened when he held it up, brushing a hooftip over the now-broken corner. “Dammit, Trixie, this is MY credit card!”

“Oh, is it?” she said with an exaggerated look of naiveté. “I had no idea! You know, you really should take better care of your belongings, Flim.” Then her mouth curled up in that self-satisfied grin she wore like a second skin. “It would be a shame if you got a massive bill later this month.”

“Trixie, one of these days, I swear to Celesti---AH!”

His shout of surprise came when her aura wrapped around him, head to hoof, and lifted him into the air with a crackle. “There’s no time for sulking, Flimmy,” she said sweetly as she hauled him across the room, not even deigning to look back. “You have to get ready for your date!”

He thrashed around, but she was holding him firmly. He knew from experience it was difficult to disentangle oneself from another unicorn’s magic, especially if they had you by the horn. “My what?”

“Your date,” she repeated, nosing the bathroom door open. Simultaneously sweeping the shower curtain back with a hoof and undoing his buttons with a spare strand of magic, she went on: “Trixie’s cousin is in town for a few weeks, and she’s been looking for a date for some time, now.” She gave him a critical once-over as she popped his shirt open, the corner of his still-bandaged wound peeking from under his elbow. “You’re not exactly her type, but as I said, she is a little desperate.”

“Will you please let me go?! This is ridiculous!” He just barely managed to fumble his clothes off before Trixie turned the water on. “And I’m not going on some stupid date.”

Leaning over the lip of the tub, she pressed her snout up against his and tightened her eyes. “Yes, you are. Flam’s been too polite to say anything, but Trixie has no such compunctions.” She jabbed at his barrel, not breaking eye contact. “Flim, it’s time you moved on. You’ve been sulky and pouty ever since you left Ponyville, and quite frankly, we’re sick of it!”

Flim nudged the tap to the left, heating up the water. As warm as is was, it felt surprisingly cool; his scalp felt all hot and tight with a headache. “Yeah, well, imagine how sick I am of hearing you bitch about it.”

She tossed him the slim bar of hotel soap as she bundled up his clothes. “There’s one way to solve both these problems. You’re going to have a shower, put on some nice clothes---and I mean nice clothes, Flim, not that stupid vest you always wear!---and go enjoy your date.”

“Trixie, I really don’t need your help finding a---“

“Yes you do,” she snapped. “Applejack has moved on, and it’s high time you did, too.” The way he winced at that name didn’t slip by her. “Now, listen. My cousin is a very nice mare, and I think you’ll find you have a lot in common.”

“Like what? The fact we both know a psychotic stage magician?”

Her muzzle pulled up as she scowled, and she yanked the curtain shut. As much as she wanted to scream something at him, she remembered Flam’s advice to use ‘a delicate touch’. “There’s a restaurant two blocks East from here called the Gilded Truffle. She’ll be waiting in there at eight o’clock, wearing a purple rose. You have less than half an hour to get yourself ready, so get a move on!”

With a quiet groan, Flim leaned back against the porcelain, letting the warm water flow over his head. “And if I don’t show up?”

“Then you’ll never see your other credit card again.” She paused to adjust her mane in the mirror. “And don’t forget to shave, Flim. Honestly, there are mares out there with better facial hair than you.”

He snorted. “I know. I’ve met your mother.”

She spun on the spot, flushed the toilet, and slammed the door on his scream.

Applejack waved as the last of the party guests filtered out through the front door, trampled pieces of confetti trailing after them. Scattered about the floor were streamers and popped balloons, ripped wrapping paper and shreds of ribbons---while it had been Apple family tradition to have foal showers at home, she sure was glad somepony else would be taking care of the mess... especially now that bending over without puking into the back of her throat was almost impossible.

With a wide, happy smile, she turned back to the five ponies who had decided to stay. “Thanks, y’all,” she murmured, a hoof on her belly. “This means more t’me than you can ever know.”

Raising her wine, Rarity declared “To Applejack! The best mother-to-be in all of Equestria!”

As Applejack blushed and waved her hoof, tutting in embarrassment, four other glasses raised in the air. Fluttershy’s feeble grip on her drink made it waver to and fro before Twilight could catch her wrist and steady it back to the table. “To Applejack!” they all replied, clinking wine glasses against champagne flutes.

Just like she did every time somepony proposed a toast, Rainbow deliberately leaned as far forward as she could and looked from one friend to the other, still lightly sloshing her glass back and forth. “Remember, everyone: if you don’t make eye contact when you drink to something, you won’t have sex for seven years!”

“Good thing I didn’t partake,” Applejack muttered as she tipped her glass towards her face, peering down at the innocent-looking swirls of apple juice and grenadine. Mrs. Cake--- a mare who definitely knew the irritation of having to spend eleven months without cocktails---had been kind enough to concoct a drink that was both baby-friendly and tasty enough for Mama to enjoy. It even had an apple garnish. “Last thing I need is fer my love life to get any worse.”

Her glass still in the air, Rarity added “And to little baby...” She hesitated, looking at Applejack’s uncertain expression. “Are you sure about this, darling?”

“I damn well better be,” she said. “I already told half the town! I mean, it ain’t the usual kinda name we Apples tend to give our kin, but...” Her eyes fluttered down to her belly. “I guess she ain’t gonna be the usual kinda Apple.”

“Well, some would say middle names are for honouring somepony you love, Applejack. With a family as large as yours, I’m sure you have a great-aunt or two whose legacy you’d like to commemorate in such a way.”

Pinkie vigorously shook her head. “Nuh-uh, Rarity! The foal’s gonna get Flim’s mother’s name!”

“Ach!” The sound rasped in her throat as a look of distaste went across her features. “Applejack, why would you let somepony like him have a say?”

“Because she’s his kid, too,” Applejack replied, glaring at Pinkie.

“If he wanted a say, he should have stuck around,” Rarity said firmly. “I don’t expect him to win Father of the Year, but he ought to stallion up and not run like a coward.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Twilight leaning forward, her lips parted as if about to speak, so she quickly jumped in: “Rarity, I appreciate yer honesty, but can we, uh, maybe not talk about Flim right now? This is supposed to be a happy occasion, right?”

"Of course it is." The terse look softened, and with a much more genuine smile, Rarity concluded the toast: “And to, ahem, Hersperides Loophole Apple.”

Again, they clinked their glasses, giggling as they forced eye contact. “That sure is a mouthful,” Rainbow said as she sipped the head off her cider. “But I guess we can call her Hez for short. Or Desy. Or even Loophole---whichever seems to suit her best.”

“The foal’s got three names, so I guesh we better drink to her two more times!” Fluttershy squealed and giggled, flopping over the armrest. She was flapping her forelegs and waving her wings, as if confused as to which were which, and eventually brought her splayed feathers to rest on Applejack’s abdomen. “Who wantsa refill Aunt Fluttershy’s cup?”

Applejack chuckled and patted her sweaty mane. The poor thing was a lightweight, even for a pegasus; her eyes had begun to cross halfway through her first spritzer, and by the second she was air-dancing. “I think Aunt Fluttershy needs to be cut off,” she said gently.

She pulled the same face Apple Bloom used when she wanted to stay up past her bedtime. “Nooo! C’mon, Abblejack, it’sh a party!”

Luckily she was too drunk to notice the smiles her friends were trying to hide. “Would you like me to go make you another ‘ater-way’?” Twilight said as she rose from her seat.

Her face brightened. She still hadn’t figured out that the cocktail Twilight had ‘invented’ was actually just water with an olive garnish. “Yeah! I love your ater-ways! Ooh, and bring a virgin one for Abblejack!” She turned back to smush her face against Applejack’s stretched hide. “Innit funny? You haveta drink virgin cocktails because you’re not a virgin! Hee hee!”

“Yeah. Hilarious, Fluttershy.”

She startled a bit when another hoof came to rest on her shoulder, and looked up from where Fluttershy was jostling her stomach back and forth to get the baby to move---dammit, why does everypony DO that?---to see Rarity’s kind face smiling down at her. “You miss him, don’t you?”

“I said I don’t wanna talk about him,” she gritted out.

If she noticed the terseness in her words, she didn’t let on. “I know just the thing to take your mind off him!”

“Rarity, if I hear the word ‘spa’ or ‘makeover’---”

“No no no, nothing like that.” She lifted her hoof from Applejack’s shoulder and held it up triumphantly. “We’re going to find you a new stallion!”

Somehow, that was even worse. “What?!”

But it was too late---her eyes were gleaming like a mare possessed. “We’ll find you a new stallion! One who’ll sweep you off your hooves! One who’ll be a gentlecolt! You know, Applejack, my cousin is a renowned matchmaker, and if she can do it, so can I!”

“There’s a fairly significant flaw in that plan, Rarity,” Twilight said as she returned with Fluttershy’s ‘cocktail’.

“What? The fact that she’s still in love with Flim?”

“NO.” Her eyes said more than her words, and Rarity rather sheepishly sat herself back down. “I meant the lack of eligible bachelors around here.”

Rainbow finally managed to pry Fluttershy off Applejack’s belly and guided her back to her chair. “Yeah, this town’s a Muff Mecca, and Applejack is strick’ly dickly.”

Oh Celestia. She felt as flustered as the first time she went into heat in the middle of class. She eagerly took her drink and sipped at it, grateful for the excuse to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. “I, uh, I don’t know if this is a good idea...”

“A Muff Mecca, you say?” Pinkie screwed her eyebrows together, deep in thought. The effort made her look like she was struggling to get the last bit of toothpaste out of the tube. “Hmm... that means most of the mares here are fillyfoolers, which would mean that they’re all dating each other, which must mean...” She jolted upright when the realization hit her. “It must mean that most of the stallions in Ponyville are single! Right?”

“Pinkie, I don’t know if that logically follows---“

She threw her forehooves over her head with a huge smile. “No, Twilight, this is great! Now all we gotta do is go down the list and figure out who’s best for her!”

“Didn’t work out so well when my sister tried it,” Applejack groused.

“Oh, don’t be such a silly-billy! We’re not going to give you any potions!”

“Yeah. We’re just talking one date, AJ.”

“And if it doesn’t work out, there’s no pressure.”

“Think about it darling. When was the last time you had a nice evening out?”

All Fluttershy had to offer was a cheery “Woo!”

Applejack sighed. She was clearly outnumbered. “Okay, fine. But I don’t want any of y’all to get yer hopes up.”

With a light titter, Rarity patted Applejack’s elbow and said “Don’t you worry about a thing. We all understand the difference between a Mister Right and a Mister Right Now.”

Fluttershy was the first to offer a suggestion: “Filthy Rich isn’t married! And he’s rich!”

She rolled her eyes. “Pass.”

“Good call,” Rainbow said. “What about Thunderlane?”

“Been there, done that.”

“Really?” She leaned her chin on her forehooves. “Interesting.”

“Ooh!” Pinkie’s hoof shot up in the air and she began waving it back and forth, reaching with her opposite foreleg around the back of her head to hold her elbow in place. “Ooh! I know! Dance Fever!”

“What, that disco-dancer who looks like he came out of a really bad porno?”

“C’mon, AJ! It wasn’t that bad!” When she saw her friends staring at her, Pinkie blinked a few times. “Did I say that or just think it?”

As if to smooth that over as quickly as possible, Twilight suggested “What about Hughbert Jellius? He’s nice, and not unintelligent, if I recall correctly. I can’t count how many times he’s come in to the library to take out books on fruit preserving---you two might have a lot in common.”

Applejack fixed her a pointed stare. “He’s banned from Zap Apple Jam sales, an’ I’m not sayin’ why in polite company.”

“Jesus Pezuna, maybe?”

From the frying pan to the fire! Just the thought of that mane-net made her shudder. “Not a chance. I’m twenty-six, which means I’m at least fifteen years too old fer his tastes.”

“What about Bulk Biceps?”

Applejack tried as hard as she could not to cringe. “Uh... He’s, uh, nice, but...”

“But it’s true what they say about stallions with itty-bitty wingspans,” Rainbow finished for her.

With an indignant huff, Rarity tossed her mane and swirled her wine around her glass. “That’s incredibly rude of you, Rainbow Dash! I’ll have you know that I’ve dated quite a few pegasi in my time, and I can assure you that wings and---er---sizes in other departments have absolutely no correlation!”

“Size?” She flared her own wings, and smirked. “Who said anything about size? I just meant little wings weren’t great for flying. What were you talking about, Rarity?”

Her mane jimmied as her ears moved back and forth. “I---! Size?! I wasn’t---! Why, how dare you---“

“Bulky’s a real sweet fella,” Applejack interjected, despite the little bit of glee she felt when she saw the flush on Rarity’s face. “But he ain’t too bright. Once I told him he was standing on a cow patty, and he said ‘I’d know if I was standing on a cow, and don’t call me Patty.’”

Suppressing a snicker, Twilight shifted and re-crossed her hindlegs. “Fair enough. Well... there’s always that stallion from the Ponytones.”

“Her own BROTHER?! EW, Twilight, just EW!”

She rubbed her hoof under her bangs. “Pinkie Pie, I was obviously referring to the tenor.”

“Y’know, that ain’t a bad idea.” Applejack allowed herself a small smile as she recalled the lithe, toned form of her brother’s friend. “He’s cute... got a good singin’ voice... friends with Big Mac...”

But she’d seen the look on Rarity’s face---a touch of fear, a touch of distress, mixed with pure blushing embarrassment. “What d’you say, Rares? Is he on the market?”

“He.” She coughed and downed an unladylike gulp of her wine. “Um. Well.”

“It’s a yes or no question, Rarity. Is he single?”

“Hm, how to put this delicately...” A hoof raised to her lips, and she very nearly bit it before remembering her hooficure. “He is single, and... well... he certainly wouldn’t have a problem dating a mare who’s with child, considering he...” Her mouth pulled down in an apologetic grimace. “...Isn’t capable of siring foals.”

“Well, shoot, that ain’t a problem!” she said, brightening up. “I don’t think he’s any less of a stallion jes’ c’ause he’s shootin’ blanks.”

“It’s, um, it’s a bit more complicated than that,” Rarity said, blushing. “He... Applejack, darling, have you ever taken a good look at him? A good, long look? Say, when he’s turned around?”

“What’re you tryna say?”

That’s when Fluttershy said “He doeshn’t have balls!”

Applejack turned her shocked look from the drunk pegasus to Rarity, who let out a dramatic sigh as she wiped the non-existent sweat off her forehead. “It’s true, I’m afraid. I just wish our dear friend over there had found a more tactful way of putting it.”

“Ain’t that jes’ great!” Slumping back in her chair, she flopped her forelegs over her belly and sulked. “The one eligible bachelor in this whole town is a gelding!” She shifted her chin from one hoof to the other. “Then again, I s’pose I shoulda guessed. He’s the only stallion Big Mac introduced me to without sittin’ and glarin’ and carvin’ up an apple with his pocketknife.”

“You could take out a singles ad.”

“I’m sorry,” Rarity said, taking Applejack’s hoof in her own. “I guess the matchmaking gene just doesn’t run on my side of the family.”

Fluttershy squinted at her friend’s downcast eyes. “Guys... guys! She looks really upset!”

The lump pressing against her throat made it difficult to speak. “I been feelin’ lonely fer months now.” She turned her head away, looking at the ‘IT’S A FILLY!’ sign that was now hanging by a few half-torn corners. “I guess I didn’t realize just how alone I was ‘til now.”

With an uneasy, semi-conscious flick of her wings, Twilight ducked her head, keeping her eyes on her pregnant friend. “We shouldn’t have brought this up,” she whispered.

The hindleg Rainbow had draped over the side of her chair stopped its lazy swinging as she sat as close to upright as she could. “C’mon, AJ. You’re not alone! You have us! You have your family! Who needs a stallion anyway?”

When she saw the look on Applejack’s face, she quickly added “And I’m not just saying that because I’m a fillyfooler. Being single isn’t that bad. Look at us!” She unfurled her wings and uncrossed her arms, gesturing around at her friends. “We’re all hot, we’re all smart, we’re all awesome, and only one of us is in a relationship. You don’t need to be dating anypony to be, y’know, whole.”

“It ain’t jes’ that, Rainbow! There are lots of different kinds of alone...” She really wanted to bring her knees up to her barrel and curl into a little ball, but she hadn’t been able to bend her spine that much in ages. “I been single a lot in my life. I know I don’t need someone to ‘complete me’. But... I’m a mare! I have needs! I mean, it’s been, what, four? Four an’ a half months? Maybe five since I last got ta bang the screen door! I think I’m startin’ to forget what a stallion feels like!”

She was just pausing to draw a breath when, from seemingly nowhere and everywhere at once, came a weird, waxy baritone: “My oh my, five whole months? Boo hoo hoo, Applejack! How did you ever survive?”

All six heads swiveled around, trying to follow the sound. Pinkie’s made a few extra rotations. “I wasn’t the only one who heard that, right?”

The voice continued after a familiar chuckle. “Why, I had to go a thousand years without any princum-prancum, and I was... hard as a rock the whole time! Ha ha ha ha!”

Applejack scowled and pulled her forelegs around her tightly. “Okay, Discord,” she called out to the room, “Now we all know yer here---uninvited, might I add---so y’might as well show yerself.”

His words had been echoing off the walls, but they suddenly focused on the worst possible location. A stab of horror went into her throat when she felt the hide on her pregnant paunch ripple with vibrations... from the inside. “Show myself? Well, that would be hard, considering I’m just getting acquainted with little AJ junior!” Oh, Celestia. She could swear that she felt an antler poke at her. “Quite cozy in here, isn’t it?”

She slammed both her forehooves down on her belly and screamed “Discord, if yer in my womb, I swear on my parents’ graves I’m-a cut a switch the size of---“

“Oh, do relax, would you? All that stress is bad for the baby.” He materialized to her left, just a little too close. For some reason, he was wearing a vintage-looking tuxedo that appeared to be in greyscale. “I was merely throwing my voice. Speaking of which---!”

He reached behind his back, and from under one of his wings, he pulled out something that looked like a crude representation of a pony. It was wearing a matching suit with a slit up the back, into which Discord inserted his talon, and the dummy’s glazed eyes came to life, looking around the room and blinking in a hideous, soulless kind of way. “Why don’t you say hello, dummy?”

’Hello, dummy!’ it replied, its loose jaw clacking.

Discord gasped and slapped his paw against his cheek. “That wasn’t very polite! Haven’t you learned anything in your etiquette classes?”

’Sure did! I got an A+!’

“Goodness, that’s a nice grade.”

’Goodness had nothin’ to do with it, Discord!’ With a flick of his wrist, he made the dummy turn its head around the room. ’Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk!’

“Okaaaay,” Applejack said as she inched away from him. From them. “If yer done scarin’ the crap outta me, care to tell us why y’brought that thing here?”

“Why, to give you your foal shower gift, of course!” And he plunked the damn thing down on her knee. “See, there are little levers inside. One controls the eyes, the other controls the mouth. All you have to do is put your talon in the back to make them move. I designed it myself!”

“One problem, there,” she said, moving her leg away. “Uh, two, actually. One, it’s scary beyond all belief, and two, the foal ain’t gonna have a talon.”

He held his finger and thumb an inch apart, ready to snap. “That can be arranged.”

The shriek he let out when Applejack grabbed his goatee sent the windows rattling, and the rest of her friends clapped their hooves over their ears. Yanking him down so his eyes were level with hers, Applejack growled “Discord, if you lay one slimy finger on my baby, I’ll shove that dummy so far up yer ass that it’ll be talkin’ outta you.”

In the time it took her to blink, his eyes were gone, and when she looked down at her hoof she found a piece of sequined string twisted around it instead of his beard. “No need to go all Mama Bear on me,” he said as he popped up behind her opposite shoulder. “If you don’t like it, all you had to do was say so!”

With that, he wrapped his paw around the dummy’s neck and snapped it in two.

“Jeez, Discord!” she hollered as she sharply drew her hoof away from the cracked head. “What’d’ya do that for?!”

He placed his palm on her shoulder, and with his paw, he motioned for her to look at the broken toy. “Quite simple, really. Just give it a minute... Wait for it...”

The glass eye that was hanging by a spring began to glow in soft, crackling colours, which spread down to the socket and around the head. Applejack’s lips parted in surprise as the swirling colours enveloped the entire thing, lifting it into the air and changing its shape from the silhouette of the dummy to an amorphous blob. When the aura dissipated, what was left underneath was a stuffed animal.

“You see?” he explained, handing the plushie over to an astonished Applejack. “It turns into a new toy every time it breaks. I know that babies love banging things around, and it can be such a chore to have to keep replacing their things, not to mention that hideous screeching sound they make...”

She was tuning him out, staring in amazement at the gift. Part of her wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to have something imbued with chaos magic so close to her foal, but the gesture had been so sweet and unexpected that she couldn’t turn it down. She propped the bunny on her belly, and a happy jostle inside her sealed the deal.

“...So, what do you think?”

It took her a second to realize she was being addressed. “I... I never thought I’d say this---or do this, but...”

It was hard to startle Discord, but she managed to do it when she leaned over and kissed what she hoped was his cheek. “Thank ya kindly. This is a real thoughtful gift.”

Fluttershy whooped like she was in a hoofball stadium. “Oooooh! AJ kissed Discord!”

“I think she likes it, too,” Applejack added as she let the kicking inside her bounce the toy around.

“Well.” Discord coughed, and adjusted his bowtie, which made the rest of his tuxedo disappear. “Several millennia old, and I still got it!”

“You don’t look a day over nine hundred,” Rainbow snickered. “Say, were you around when we were talking about setting Applejack up on a date?”

She had been fully expecting a snarky response. They all had. So his lack of a smile came as much of a shock as what he said next: “Not on your very, very short life, Rainbow Dash. I’ve outlived enough of my children already, thank you very much.”

“Hey!” Fluttershy made swirling motions in front of her belly. “Wanna know something cool? Sand tiger sharks have this thing called embyr... embryolo... canniba... shark fetuses eat each other in the womb!”

Discord picked her up under her wings and slung her over his shoulder. “And on that charming note, I’m taking her home.”

“Be sure to turn her on her side when you put her to bed!” Twilight called after them.

“But of course,” he replied, bowing backwards. “We wouldn’t want a repeat of the time someone, whom I will not name, had to spend an hour combing vomit out of her hair---would we, Princess?”

He opened the door if only to slam it, teleporting himself and his charge from the bakery to the dirt trail leading up to her cottage. Once he was sure they were safely out of sight, he switched Fluttershy from a Firemare’s Carry to a more considerate hold, her hocks over his talon and the back of her head resting against the pads on his paw. “You just tell me if you need to piss or vomit, and I’ll get out my hazmat suit.”

“Discord,” she said, as all the happiness from the party began to drain off her face, “What if Applejack never finds the right stallion?”

“Fluttershy, my dear, there are far worse things than being an old maid.”

She was starting to get that wistful look that sometimes misted her eyes when she was reading romance novels. “But what if Flim was the right one for her? What if he never comes back?”

“The ‘what-ifs’ are fun to play with, so long as you don’t let them run your life.” He deftly turned her head away as she let out a tiny burp. “Now, I’m only going to tell you this because you’re too drunk to remember it tomorrow...” Without bending down, he brought his lips down to her floppy ear. “Applejack has friends in high places. And some low ones, come to think of it. Do you really think Little Miss Sunshine and Moon Unit are clueless as to what’s been going on?”

“I dunno.”

“Far be it from me to peek into someone else’s personal mail, of course, but there’s been quite the flurry of letters going back and forth from one castle to another. Just between you and me, I think the Princesses are far more invested in this whole pregnancy brouhaha than they’re letting on. And... oh dear, it seems I’ve bored you to sleep.”

The animals all began to squawk and chitter in surprise when one of Fluttershy’s bedposts shimmied, bubbling and twisting until Discord finally took form. He wrapped the snoring pegasus in her favourite quilt, and gently patted her head. “Good night. Sleep tight. Don’t let Luna bite.”

“So did it work?” Flam asked when he saw Trixie come breezing through the door.

“Success!” she said with a twirl of her foreleg. “As we speak, Flim’s getting himself ready for a date with Trixie’s cousin!”

“With your... cousin?” He folded the newspaper and set it on the couch beside him. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Of course it is! Why wouldn’t it be?”

Whoops. He realized, too late, that he’d just backed himself into a corner. Tell her that the few cousins of hers he’d met were a few flakes short of a croissant, and there’d be a tantrum. Remind her that she was on very shaky ground with the other side of her family, and he’d re-open that still-healing wound. Either way, she’d end up in tears. He could feel sweat beading on his temples.

“Why wouldn’t it be a good idea, Flam?” Now there was a sharp edge in her voice.

“It’s not...” He sincerely hoped his eyes weren’t giving too much away as he racked his brain for the name of the one cousin he knew Trixie disliked. “It’s not the one who wouldn’t stop taking pictures at the, er, wedding rehearsal, is it?”

“I haven’t spoken to that bitch in years,” she sniffed. “Do you know she actually offered me those photos? Even the ones of you beating Flim up? She thought it was funny.”

He winced. He’d only been dimly aware of the flashbulbs going off at the time, and the thought of that low moment in his life being caught on celluloid was even more unnerving than a certain other set of incriminating photos he’d recently been exposed to. “I didn’t mean to---“

“I set him up with someone nice. They’ll be fine.”

“Trixie...” He moved the newspaper off the couch and patted the cushion beside him. “Come here.”

She sat down stiffly, but when he pulled her up against his chest she let out a little squeak. Flam carefully ran his hooftip up from her elbow to her shoulder, and brushed a lock of her hair back into place. Sweeping his lips across her ear, he whispered “We’ve come a long way since then, haven’t we, sugarplum?”

“Mm.” Closing her eyes, she nuzzled up against him until she could feel his whiskers on her horn. “We certainly have.”

“You’ve grown so much, Trixie.” Her breath became light when he felt her warm haunch press against his cutie mark. “Every day, you just get stronger and stronger. But you’re still the same sweet, smooth-talking sorceress I fell in love with,” he went on, clutching her tighter as she giggled. “I don’t know what kind of spell you used, but you actually managed to get my brother out of his funk!”

“Well, he was still sulking when Trixie left him, but if he plays his cards right, his date will have a happy ending. Lower Case practically goes into heat after her second glass of wine.”

“A little too much information there, Trixie.” He glanced at the clock. “But if you’re right... that means we have a few hours on our own.”

She turned her head up and batted her eyelashes at him. “Oh? Did you have something in mind?”

Just a hint of a smile peeked out from under his moustache. “I thought we could have a picnic.”

The coy look disappeared as her not-so-inner diva came out. “A picnic? Flam, it has to be twenty below out there! I’m not going to freeze my ass off just for---”

He was already tugging her elbow, guiding her off the couch. “Trust me!”

Before she could respond, he pushed the bedroom door open and paused by the corner of the bed, grinning. Trixie gasped and clapped a hoof over her mouth. Instead of the lumpy hotel duvet, the bed was covered in a checkered picnic blanket, upon which was propped a basket, a bottle, and two plastic wine glasses. “Flam! When did you---?!”

He eased himself onto the mattress, being careful not to knock anything over. “I set it all up when you went to talk to Flim.”

“But he could’ve said no! That would’ve ruined your plans!”

He shrugged. “You said you could do it, and I believed in you.”

She stepped forward, but paused, her hoof in the air, when something on the ground caught her eye. “Did you---sweet Celestia, did you draw ants on post-it notes and put them on the floor?”

He blushed and ducked his head, just like he had the first time he asked her on a date. “Er, it seemed funny at the time...”

He barely had time to catch the wine bottle when she leapt onto the bed, sending the basket bouncing. “Oh, pookie!” she laughed, throwing her arms around him. “You’re such a goofball! I love you!”

Pressing little kisses against her cheeks, he magicked the bottle to the bedside table and uncorked it. “I love you, too.”

“I really mean it, Flam,” she said as she moved her head around to rest her chin on his barrel, staring up at him with her wide, shining eyes. “These past few months, we... I... I’ve never been happier.”

When he began to reach to his side, she assumed he was going for the bottle, but he seemed to be aiming for his pocket instead. “I’m so glad you said that.”

“Why?”

“Because...” He cleared his throat, coughed, and tried to clear it again. The nervousness on his face was quite different than she’d seen before---it almost looked like the shivers she could feel going through his body had made it up to his ears. There was a quaver in his voice when he said “I wanted to... I need to ask you something.”

Gently, he pushed her back on the bed so that he had enough room between them to pull the little velvet box out of his pocket. All that came out of her throat was a strangled eeping noise.
Still trembling a bit, he shakily lifted the lid and held the ring out to her. “Trixie, my beloved, will you marry m---“

“YES!” In a flash he was on his back, his forelegs trapped at his sides in a bone-crushing bear hug. “YES! YES! YES! A thousand times yes!”

“Mmph!”

She smothered him with kisses, not even caring when her pouted lips hit his nostril or his eyelid. “Yes! Oh, Flam, yes yes yes! I, I didn’t think I could ever be happier, but you just proved me wrong!” When she finally pried herself off him, they were both pink-faced and beaming. “Oh, Flam! Pookie! I’m going to get married!!”

“So am I!”

“For real this time,” she said as she yanked him up by his collar. Although her smile was gone, the intense look of joy was still on her features. “I promise you, Flam, it’s for real. Nothing’s going to wrong this time.”

“I---“

Still clutching his shirt, she tightened her forelegs until their muzzles were touching. “I know I was a real diva last time,” she said with a surprising quietness. “Everything had to be my way or the highway. Well, this time, we do it together. It’ll be our day, not just mine.”

Once she’d let go of his collar, he nodded towards the wine. “Shall I propose a toast?”

“No! Not yet.” She ducked her head down, her mane splashing about her shoulders. “Put the ring on me first!”

She gasped at the cool, slightly staticky feeling of the metal sliding down her horn, and when she looked back up and locked eyes with her lover, something inside her clicked: this was it. Things had changed---she could just feel it in her heart. This was real. She could even see her reflection in his eyes, complete with a little added sparkle at the base of her horn.

“Let’s seal it with a kiss.”

“Your bride wants more than a kiss,” she purred, grabbing his hoof and tugging him off the bed. “Leave the picnic for later.”

“Should I move the blanket, or---?”

“No, pookie. You did such a wonderful job setting it up, I wouldn’t want to ruin it.” Backing out the bedroom door, she dropped the hoof she was holding and flopped down on the rug, as if she was about to make a snow angel. “Here!”

He straddled her prone form and knelt down, nuzzling her all around. “A shag carpet... how appropriate.”

She playfully shoved him. “Have you been watching naughty movies?”

“Those tarty actresses don’t hold a candle to your beauty. Why would I want to look at pencil sketches when I can admire a beautiful masterpiece like you?”

“Oh, you’re getting good at knowing but the right answer is!” she said as she pulled him closer. “But, come on, Flam. We’ve looked at porn together.”

“My point still stands!” Using his hindlegs, he softly rubbed his belly against hers, nickering into the crook of her neck. “I’m so lucky to have found such a smart, lovely, amazing mare. You are a masterpiece.”

“And I’m all yours.” She giggled and kissed his forehead. “My knight in shining armour.”

He bowed his head even further, tickling kisses down her belly. “How may I serve you, milady?”

With a twist of her spine, she clamped her thighs on his cheeks and rolled to her left, sighing as the waxed tips of his moustache grazed over her nipples, causing them to stiffen. “Start slow,” she breathed. “We have all night.”

There had always been a deep, frantic kind of urgency to their lovemaking, especially after years of being apart; but over the past few months, after many tears and many hugs and many long nights spent just quietly talking all tangled up in the sheets, they’d begun to learn how to take their time. Although he could feel her slippery clit winking against his chin, he didn’t rush; using lips and tongue and teeth, he simply explored her with the kind of finesse he wished he’d had when they first met.

Trixie groaned as she leaned her cheek against the pile, and brought a hoof up to touch her new ring. The hot, rushing strokes of his tongue were soothing, but her heart was still lashing against her ribs, pumping her full of giddy energy. Married! I’m really getting married!

The spiral of his horn was moving in graceful waves along her belly, his mane dragging between her teats. Grinning, she tilted her leg up so she could get a better look at him. Flam was normally so prim and well-groomed; how many ponies would have the privilege of seeing him like this, his eyelashes sticking together and his cheeks blooming with blush and sweat? How could she describe the sweetness of the sex-scented kisses he’d give her after pulling up from between her stifles? How so very few had been so very lucky?

“Oh, Flam,” she whispered as she stroked his head, the gelled waves of his mane spilling into red-and-white curls. “My sweet pookie.”

The frilly piece of flesh he’d been suckling popped out of his mouth, and he pushed her leg off of his ear. “What was that?!”

“I just said---“

His shrunken pupils were on the door, his ears folding back in alarm. “No, not you! I thought I heard someth---“

There was a slam, and the doorknob rattled back and forth in the socket. “Open up, Trixie!”

“Shit!”

A few seconds was all it took for them to scramble apart, even though they were both two fumbling messes of clumsy hooves. The lock made a grinding metal-on-metal sound, and in a panic Trixie started wiping every part of her body that felt even remotely sticky. “He’s not coming in, is he?” she hissed.

Flam was hectically trying to smooth his disheveled hair back in place---his moustache was so frazzled it looked like he’d bitten on a firecracker. “Knowing him? Yeah, probably!”

Hopping nervously from one hoof to another, she tried to decide whether it would be faster to magically dry the wet spot or just flip the rug over. “Didn’t you lock the door?!” She threw a pillow over it instead.

“Yes, but---but I gave him the spare key!”

A hot, wet drop hit her gaskin, and with a shrill shriek she plunked her ass down on the pillow. “Dammit, Flam, why would you do something like that?!”

“I said it was for emergencies! I didn’t think he’d---“

The lock finally snicked into place, and Trixie shot Flam a horrified look. “Flam, quick!” she said, pointing at his erection. He yelped, grabbed a magazine, and tossed it over his lap just as Flim threw the door open.

“F-Flim!” his brother stuttered with a fake smile. “I thought you were, ah, eating out!”

Ignoring him, he stomped over to Trixie, blinking away the rancid liquid that was dripping into his eyes. “Trixie, don’t you ever. EVER! Set me up on a date again! Do you hear me?”

She feebly gestured at his mane. “Uh, you have a little something on your---“

“Everypony in your family is INSANE! Do you know what this is?” he barked as he wiped his face with his fetlocks. “Onion wine. Yes, you heard that right! Onion wine! Who makes wine out of onions? Your cousin brought her own wine to the restaurant, and I thought, okay, she’s frugal, I can respect that. But the first thing she said---the very first thing, Trixie!---wasn’t ‘Hello’ or ‘How do you do’, it was ‘You’re going to pay the corkage fee, right?’ Who does that?!”

When he realized his brother wasn’t looking at him, Flam quickly turned the magazine right side up. “She was probably just nervous.”

“Nervous? Well, I suppose she must have been, because she’d downed three huge glasses of liquid courage before I even got there! I mean, I knew she wasn’t going to try to pick up the cheque, but I had no idea she’d try to pick up the fucking maitre d’! Oh, and this is where it gets good.” He lunged forward and grabbed Trixie by her shoulders; when her rump lifted off the pillow, she squeezed her back legs together and brought her tail over her sex. He didn’t seem to notice, still too caught up in his rant. “She told me that you told her I’d be... how did she put it again?... Oh, yes! ‘Up for anything’. That I’d go for ‘anything with a heartbeat’. Would you care to clarify?”

She cautiously looked down at his clenched teeth, and then back up to his eyes. “Well. Ahem. Trixie may have exaggerated your, ah, sexual prowess in order to capture her cousin’s attention---“

“You captured something, alright! She spends the whole time sticking her hoof in her mouth, and when I say one wrong thing I end up wearing her drink! And, yes, before you ask, I left her with the bill! She called me a tease and all sorts of unrepeatable names before the damn appetizers came, and she ordered an entree and a soup and a salad and a dessert! No way was I going to be pa...”

He trailed off as his nostrils flared. Still gripping Trixie by the shoulders, he looked from her red face to his brother’s, and noticed the awkward, protective way Flam was holding the magazine. “Did I interrupt something?”

They said “Yes!” and “No!” at the same time.

“Oh,” he said, releasing her. “So that’s why you were so eager to get rid of me.”

“Flim, it’s not---“

“So much for ‘you have to move on with your life’, eh, Trixie? If you two wanted to thump the headboards, all you needed to do was buy me a pair of earplugs. Honestly, I---“

Again, his voice dimmed before the end of his sentence, and his eyes narrowed; but this time, they weren’t meeting hers. He was staring at her horn. “Trixie. What. Are. You. Wearing?”

“It’s an engagement ring!” she said brightly. “Do you like it?”

After a moment of silence, he picked up the side table and threw it against the wall. “NO!!”

Flam screamed when he saw one of the legs snap off. “Dammit, Flim! There goes the deposit!”

His peeled-back lips rippled as he seethed in pain. “NO!” he shouted as he turned on his heel to go stomping out of the room. “No! No! No! I am not going through this bullshit again! You’re both crazy!”

They both watched in silence as he slammed the door, and then slowly turned to face each other. Flam folded the magazine and put it back on the couch. By this point, he had nothing left to hide.

“We’ll say the maid did it,” Trixie said as she picked up the table.

“Something’s wrong.”

She tried, and failed, to jimmy the leg back in place, and settled for leaning the table against the wall with the broken side hidden. “Of course something’s wrong! He had a bad date.”

“No, something’s really wrong. Did you see the way he flinched?”

“It’s because he throws like a filly.” She leaned in for a kiss, but was surprised when he offered his cheek instead of his lips. Her shock turned indignant when he rose to his hooves and headed toward the door. “Where do you think you’re going?!”

“I’m going to see what’s wrong with him, Trixie. He doesn’t normally act like this. And, quite frankly, I thought I smelled something a little... off.”

“He had onion juice in his mane! Flam, you---“

“I’ll be back in a minute, sugarplum,” he said firmly, and closed the door behind him.

She sat back down on the pillow, folded her arms, and huffed. “...Fine.”

Since his brother hadn’t extended them the courtesy, Flam decided to forego knocking. Flim was standing on his hindlegs, his head drooped over the sink, staring aimlessly down the drain as a trickle of water circled it.

“Brother?”

Although Flim didn’t look back, he did at least acknowledge his presence: “Why, Flam? Why?”

“We can talk about that later,” he said as he took a cautious step toward him. “I’m worried about you.”

The untrimmed hairs at the back of his mane ruffled. “I’m fine! Why wouldn’t I be fine?!”

Okay, so you want to be petulant. I can deal with that. Now that he’d narrowed the gap between them, Flam decided to risk putting his hoof on Flim’s shoulder. “Brother. You’re sick.”

Predictably enough, he slapped it away. “Well you’re the one who proposed to Trixie! TWICE! What does that say about you?!”

“I mean you’re physically sick.” He gingerly put his frog against his twin’s forehead. “Look at you. You’re all flushed and sweaty, and it feels like you’re running a fever.”

“Flam, I’m fine.”

“And you smell.”

“I have onion wine in---“

He sighed, pinning Flim’s lips shut with a hooftip. “I don’t mean that. You don’t smell like onions---if I didn’t know better, brother, I’d say you smell like an infected wound.” He let his hoof drop from Flim’s mouth, but kept it in the air in case he needed to shut him up again. “Be honest with me. When was the last time you changed your dressing?”

He just huffed and looked away, but Flam noticed the weird angle he was holding his foreleg against his body.

“Come on, now,” he said, reaching towards his elbow. “Let me take a look at it.”

“Not now, Flam. Just... not now.” The put-on anger on his face was wavering, as if he barely had the energy to hold an expression for longer than a short argument. “I’ve had a hard day, and I have a lot to process right now. I just need time to think.” He looked at his hooves with eyes like slits. “Alone.”

“Flim---“

“I need to be alone,” he said in a tiny voice. “Please, brother. Just give me a night to myself.”

Flam took a long time to respond, but they’d known each other so well and for so long that Flim didn’t bother to repeat himself. Like many twins, they understood that sometimes the words that weren’t said were more important.

“Go to bed,” Flam finally said. His body was turned towards the door, but he was still peeking over his shoulder. “I’ll come check on you in a few hours. Okay?”

“Okay.”

He paused in the doorway and looked across the hall at the door to the room he and his fiancée shared. “Remember to drink lots of water.”

“Flam?”

“Yes?”

“When you do get married, let me help you with your cummerbund. You wore it upside down last time.”

Although it wasn’t enough to completely break the tension, it cracked it enough so that they could chuckle a bit and give each other a side-hug before Flam left his brother to his own devices. Weary and drained as he was, the only thing he felt he had the power to do was shuffle to the bathroom.

He stared at his reflection as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Maybe Flam was right---he did look awful, and that headache that had been festering all day wasn’t showing any signs of letting up. He tossed his shirt over the rusted shower rail and turned, wincing, to look at the hot, puffy area on his side. Picking the medical tape away was easy, but prying the gauze away was trickier since it was now sticking to the matted coat underneath, so he gave up halfway through; that was enough to show the top part of the wound, and the stitch he’d popped a week ago but hadn’t bothered to get re-done. Now there was another broken link in the thread, presumably from when he’d thrown the table. Outpatient visits and medical supplies were starting to eat away at the dwindling income they’d been bringing in, so instead of replacing the dressing, he used a square of toilet paper to wipe of the greenish goo and taped everything back in place. What was the point in going to the clinic all the time? He could take care of it himself, even if the wound kept re-opening.

His legs felt both bulky and wobbly as he made his way to bed, and he used his teeth instead of his magic to pull the duvet off before crawling under the sheets. Before he turned off the lamp, he picked the sonogram picture up off the bedside table, and gave it a kiss, and whispered “Good night.”

When he opened his eyes again, the first thing he noticed was that the ceiling looked different. The hotel room was almost cubical, but its proportions looked stretched, as if the whole structure had been built differently. “Wha...?”

He sat up, yawning, and brought a hoof up to rub his eyes. The cool fabric of his pyjamas brushed over his injured side, but... he couldn’t feel the pinch of stitches. Flim grabbed at his ribs, feeling around, but under the cotton was just smooth, unbroken skin.

“I... didn’t go to bed in pyjamas,” he said out loud. Plucking the hem between his hooves, he held it out to examine. It was a pale blue, covered in little stars and comets, the kind of pyjamas he wore as a colt. They even had that purple stain on the front from the time he’d dropped a popsicle, but that had been years ago. There was no way they should still fit, unless---

“I’m dreaming.”

He sat up straighter and looked around; yes, this was a bedroom he recognized. This was the place they’d lived in when Connie had that Manehatten gig. It was dark, but he could make out Flam’s matching, unoccupied bed on the other side of the room.

“Wait. If I know I’m asleep, that means this is a lucid dream, right?” He looked over his shoulder. “I should be able to alter things. Hm... can I grow wings and fly?”

“You can’t fly until you die.”

He squawked in surprise, his head whipping around. Bunched up under the covers right next to him was another pony, only her ears sticking out. Had she been there a minute ago? “Who are you?”

“Don’t you recognize me?” she said as she pulled the covers down to show her face.

“A-Applejack?!”

Without opening her eyes, she nodded and whispered "I'm cold."

This was weird. Despite the sick feeling in the back of his chest that something was amiss, Flim closed the space between them and pulled her into an embrace. He was immediately shocked---not only did she feel ice-cold, but the heavy bump in her belly was gone.

"Applejack? Are you alright? You don’t sound like yourself."

"I'm cold," she repeated. She hadn't moved.

He leaned in to give her a kiss, but had to pull back. "Er, I hate to tell you this, but you... smell a little off."

A strange smile crept up her face, and for some reason, none of her other facial features moved. It was as if her mouth was being pulled by marionette strings.

"Are you quite alright, sweetheart?"

"No," she said, and opened her eyes. Or, at least, she opened where her eyes used to be. With a choked scream, Flim jumped backwards when he found himself staring into empty sockets.

"Oh, Celestia!" he said hoarsely.

"Celestia's not with us right now," came the breathy voice through her unmoving mouth.

His voice had shriveled up. "What's h-happening?"

"Don'tcha get it, Flim?" Applejack sing-songed. "I'm dead!"

Author's Notes:

Looks like somepony's fucking with Flim's dream... I WONDER WHO THAT COULD BE

Anyway, phew! Sorry for the absurdly long chapter, but the story's moving faster now, and a lot of stuff is happening all at once. I promise to space things out more evenly from here on in!

Also: Please feel free to edit and/or add to the TvTropes page for this story! And remember to give thanks to The Literary Lord for starting it!

I have a sketch of AJ kissing Discord somewhere... I'll see if I can dig it up :3