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Ruined for Pun

by TheMessenger

Chapter 1: A Million Bits

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A Million Bits

Mornings do not begin universally. For some, they begin the minute the horizon is painted red and orange by Celestia's rising sun. For others, mornings do not begin until that large yellow sphere is high in the sky, and no amount of curtains or eyelid-squeezing can keep that pestering light from interrupting one's dreams. Some mornings don't start until the first cup of coffee is drained, some don't start until the blares of an alarm clock or the croaks of a rooster become unbearable, and for some, mornings don't begin without a nice, warm shower.

For the Apple family, mornings began when the time for chores starts, and chore time usually starts nice and early, sometimes early enough to catch Celestia's sun paint the horizon red, orange, and yellow. There were exceptions, of course; everypony understood how unrealistic it'd be for the venerable matriarch Granny Smith to rise at the crack of dawn every single day, especially considering the number of naps the old mare required during the day proper. Young Apple Bloom was occasionally excused from this rising ritual as education was just important to the Apple family as chores, and neither Applejack nor Big Macintosh really wanted another meeting with the school teacher to discuss their younger sibling's habit of snoring through Cheerilee's lectures.

The two older siblings, however, had few excuses for sleeping in, especially when there was plenty of farm work to be done. Barring illness or the presence of a threat endangering all of Equestria, the two Apples were often the earliest risers in all of Ponyville. Thus, you would not be entirely surprised to find either an orange mare wearing a wide-brimmed hat or a large red stallion with a dusty plow wandering about in the fields of Sweet Apple Acres before most ponies had finished brewing their coffee even after the harvesting and planting seasons; a far more interesting question would be why you're there so early. Ponies are, after all, like many beings, creatures of habits.

Big Macintosh was normally no exception. He usually suffered from a conversation-crippling case of shyness, almost always wore that old dusty plow, even after that certain chore was finished, and normally woke up earlier than his sister so he could drink a cup of coffee without his sister nagging and complaining about the bitter taste.

Understandably, Applejack was more than a little perplexed to find the kitchen completely deserted one morning.

"Big Mac?" Applejack called out into the dark kitchen. "You in here?"

No answer. The mare found the light switch and illuminated the room. Still no big brother. Applejack walked to the counter and found the large coffee pot surprisingly empty and the bean grinder untouched. She looked over her shoulder at the clock hanging on the wall, then peaked outside though the window above the sink.

"Where is that pony?" Applejack muttered to herself as she absentmindedly combed her blond mane under her hat with a hoof. "He knows we've gotta finishin' the harvest by today. There ain't any time for lollygaggin' today."

"What's that 'bout lollies?" came a soft voice from behind her, which was quickly followed by a loud unrestrained yawn. Applejack turned to the young filly rubbing the sand from her eyes that had unknowingly snuck up on her. Her red bow sat crookedly on her head, holding down the wild mess of red hair she called a mane.

Apple Bloom yawned widely again. "Do you really need me up this early?" she grumbled. "I mean, sure it's a weekend and everythin', but it's just finishin' up the last of the harvest, it's not like you and Big Mac can't handle that."

"Aw, these big pony chores too much for my little sis?" Applejack teased, rubbing Apple Bloom's head affectionately, ignoring the young fillies exhausted attempts of escape. "We work together, we can finish everything sooner, and the sooner we finish all our chores, the sooner you'll get to play with your friends. Any crusades planned for today?"

Apple Bloom shook her head. "Just hangin' around today, I'll probably be too tired for any real Cutie Mark Crusadin' any--" She released another yawn. "--ways. Whew, that was a big one. Hey, you think I'm old enough for coffee yet?" the young pony asked eagerly, eyeing the coffee pot and the bag of beans next to it.

"Ask your brother, that muck's his business," Applejack answered with a roll of her green eyes. "Speakin' of which, you seen Big Mac on your way down here?"

Apple Bloom shook her head. "No, why? He not up yet?"

"Dunno, but it don't seem like it."

"You don't think he's sick, do you?" asked Apple Bloom, her voice slightly pitched with worry.

"I hope not. Figures, that stallion decides to get sick on the last day of harvest," Applejack groaned with a sigh. "I'll get breakfast started," she said, crouching down and removing a large sack of oats from the cupboard. She carried it toward the stove and grabbed a simple cooking pot from the cabinet. "You go see how Big Mac's doin'."

"You think I could try makin' breakfast today?" Apple Bloom asked, making her way next to her elder sister. "You know I know how and everythin'."

"You sure?" Applejack questioned as she filled the pot with oats and water. "I don't really want you 'round the stove."

"Don't worry 'bout it, sis," the filly assured, taking the heavy container out of Applejack's hooves. "Gotta prove I'm a big pony now, don't I?"

Applejack shrugged. "Don't really matters who gets breakfast done, so long as we all get to eat," she conceded. "Alright, I'll go check up on Big Macintosh, see what's keepin' him, you make sure the oatmeal doesn't burn. Oh, and keep your hooves off the coffee grinder," the farm mare added, throwing a fierce glare at the appliance in question. "Darn thing won't work for any pony 'sides Granny or Big Mac."

And with that final warning and an understanding nod from Apple Bloom, Applejack exited the kitchen and heading to the stairs. As she carefully climbed the creaking steps upstairs, her eyes adjusted to the darkness. By now, the sun had already finished its colorful display, and light was beginning to seep through the curtains, but there was about half an hour or so before the hallway would be properly brightened.

Still, regardless of the shadows, this house was Applejack's home, and she knew its layout like the back of her hoof. Finding the door Big Macintosh's room even in the dark wouldn't be much of a challenge, especially considering how she would often sneak into her older brother's room in the middle of the night when she was younger.

"Big Mac," Applejack called after knocking on the sturdy door. "There'd better be a good explanation why Apple Bloom's up earlier than you."

There was a muffled reply from the other side. Applejack raised a brow.

"Come again?" she said, leaning her ear against the door.

The second reply was just as obscured. Applejack shook her head.

"Alright, I'm comin' in." She turned the door nob and pushed forward. "You'd better be decent."

"Wait!"

This time, Applejack heard the response nice and clearly, but the door was already opened, and Applejack was already inside, blinking as the red stallion in front of her struggled to hide an easel behind his large frame. A few paintbrushes had been scattered to the floor, along with a few empty tubes of paint. Applejack turned around and stared at the canvases plopped on his bed.

"Big Macintosh," Applejack began slowly, sending her older brother into a cringe, "I know this is gonna sound like a lot, but I need you to start talking."

Big Macintosh opened his mouth. "I--"

"You know what, forget it," Applejack cut in, shaking her head. "You ain't sick, so you ain't got an excuse. Big Mac, you remember what's planned for today, right?"

Big Macintosh hung his head. "Eeyup," he said softly.

"And despite knowin' perfectly well how busy we were gonna be this mornin', you thought it be a good idea to...to...do whatever this is instead of chores?" Applejack gestured toward the discarded canvases. She took a step forward as her brother took a nervous step back. "I'd expect this kind of thing from Apple Bloom," she growled, "but from you, oh you--"

"Um, Applejack?"

"Not now, Apple Bloom." Applejack blinked and sniffed. "Why do I smell smoke?"

"I touched the coffee grinder," the filly explained sheepishly. "Sorry."

*

The two ponies worked in relative silence; the only noises they made were the thuds of their powerful hooves hitting against the thick trucks of the apple trees and the dull sounds of the fruits falling into baskets.

Applejack took a moment to wipe the sweat off her brow with her hat. The sun was now properly up in the sky but had mercifully decided to hide behind some clouds for the time being. She looked back down at the baskets filled with bright juicy apples around her. She nodded after a long scan of the trees.

"Whelp, that looks like the last of them," she said, turning to her brother, who was already balancing a few baskets on his back. He gave her a quick nod and started toward the barn. Applejack hurried to catch up.

"Hey, er, Big Mac," she said hesitantly. "Listen, I've been thinkin', and I guess I owe you an apology too."

"Don't--"

"Listen, I know you think I don't need to apologize or nothin', but I do."

"But--"

"Sure, we both know it weren't right for you to neglect your chores like that," Applejack said, "but I was too harsh then. Heck, I didn't even let you explain yourself. The very least I could have done was hear your part."

"Well--"

"Anyways, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for actin' that way this mornin'," she continued. "I was overreactin'. In the end, everythin' we wanted to get done got done, and now, we've got the entire day off. So, we good?" she asked, extending a hoof.

Big Macintosh waited for moment, simply staring at his sister's hoof. He opened his mouth.

"We're good," he said, shaking the limb. "No hard feelin's here."

"Heh, that good." Applejack shut the barn door behind her. "Y'know, this sounds like a great friendship letter for Princess Celestia, like losin' your head over somethin' can cause you to hurt your friends, and it's better to try and calm down instead of overreacting. Ooh, that sounds good, I'm headin' to the library while it's still fresh in my head," Applejack announced as she started walking in the direction of Ponyville. "You need anythin' from town? I can pick it up for you."

"How--"

"And before you ask, I'm not pickin' up another heavy sack of bitter beans," she said, making a face. "You're the only pony in the house that drinks coffee, carry it yourself."

"What--"

"Apple Bloom doesn't count. Her tongue's still young and impressionable."

Big Macintosh scratch his chin, then shook his head. "Nope," he said. "Nothin' I need."

"Alright," Applejack called, waving. "Listen, you and Granny can start lunch without us. Apple Bloom's eatin' with the rest of the Crusaders and I'll eat with Twilight and Spike."

The farm mare didn't bother waiting for a reply before kicking up a cloud of dust as she galloped away. Big Macintosh stared at the shrinking figure of his sister before it disappeared from his sight. Slowly, he headed toward the farmhouse.

*

"Applejack," Twilight Sparkle said cheerfully as her young draconic assistant led her guest inside. Her smile disappeared at the sight of her winded friend. "Are you alright?" the unicorn asked in concern, rushing forward in case Applejack needed support. "You look like you sprinted all the way here. Did something happen at Sweet Apple Acres? Is there an emergency?"

"Emergency?" Applejack parroted. She took a deep breath. "Nah, just thought of a friendship report, and I wanted it done while it was still fresh in my head. Speak of which..." She turned to the dragon who was in the middle of bending over to pick up a broom. "Spike, take a letter. Dear Princess Celestia, I'm writin' to you because...because, uh..."

"Because?" Spike prompted, taping his pen against the parchment.

"Give me a second here," Applejack mumbled. "Because...something 'bout overreacting and being calm and not hurting your friends..."

"...and not hurting your friends."

"Wait, don't write that down! Ngh," Applejack groaned. "Consarn it, okay, tryin' again. Dear Princess Celestia, I'm writin' to you today 'cause I learned a little somethin' about stayin' calm and not panickin'. Sometimes, things get so hectic that you can't help but lash out, only gettin' angry doesn't help anypony, and sometimes you'll end up hurtin' those you're close to. It's better for everypony if you just try to stay calm instead of overreacting. Your subject, Applejack. So, how was that?" Applejack asked with a grin.

"It's a great lesson," Twilight said, nodding in approval.

"Why does it feel like I've written this before?" Spike muttered. The dragon shrugged. "Whatever, you want me to send it now?"

"Go right ahead," Applejack answered. "Say, you two free for lunch?" she asked as she watched the letter pass through green flames and disappear in the smoke.

Twilight shook her head. "Not today, sorry," she said. "This week's been so busy, I've fallen behind in my reading." The unicorn gestured to the stack of books next to her. "Maybe tomorrow, if you're free then," Twilight proposed. "I should be caught up by then."

"If you say so," Applejack chuckled, eyeing the large pillar of tomes. "What 'bout you, Spike, wanna grab a bit to eat?"

"Sorry, but someone's got to make sure Twilight takes a break for lunch," Spike said from the kitchen. "I mean, I guess you stay, but we're just having leftover sandwiches."

"Nah, s'all right," Applejack assured with a quiet sigh. "Wonder if anypony else is free today." She shrugged. "Well, best be headin' off now, don't wanna take too much of your readin' time, 'specially if we're meeting together tomorrow."

"Oh, before you leave, here, take this." Twilight placed a small scroll into Applejack's hooves. "Sorry it's a little late, but the fee processing system is kind of archaic." She rolled her eyes. "I understand it's tradition and all, but--"

"Hold on, sugar cube," Applejack jumped in. The scroll had been unsealed and stretched open. "...is proof of payment...please present...this autumn, on the twenty fourth of..." she read slowly. She squinted suddenly. "The annual Canterlot Harvest Amateur Art Gallery, Auction, and Charity?" Applejack lowered the scroll and gave her friend a bewildered stare. "Umm, Twilight, as much as I know harvests and whatnot, I'm not the artsy kinda gal. You sure this ain't for Rarity?"

Twilight returned Applejack's look of confusion. "What do you mean? Big Macintosh didn't tell you?"

"Didn't tell me what?" asked Applejack, her eyes slowly narrowing.

"That he was taking part in the Harvest Amateur Art Gallery. He overheard me discussing it with Rarity about a week ago and asked a few questions," Twilight explained. "I told him how anypony with any degree of talent for any subject could enter after paying a fee and how this year all proceeding from the auction were going to supporting drought victims in the west, and he seemed very interested in entering. I didn't know Big Macintosh was an artist."

"He ain't, 'least as far as I know," Applejack said, frowning. Her glower quickly vanished. "Ah well, nice to know he's got a hobby, and if it's for charity, then all the better. Still, wish he bothered tellin' me about it." Applejack tucked the paper into her hat and set it back onto her head. "I'll be sure to get it to Big Macintosh later. See you two 'round."

Spike and Twilight waved as the apple farmer left the library. She looked up into the sky, noting that the sun had reappeared from behind the clouds. "Still got plenty of time for lunch," Applejack said to herself. "Wonder if Rarity's busy right now." Applejack gently nudged her hat back into place. She felt the scroll shift. "Might as well find out what this art gallery thing is all about."

*

"Could you be a dear and grab me some cerise fabric?" the unicorn seamstress asked. "It's over there." Without looking up from the dress in front of her, she pointed at a shelf full of colorful textiles in the corner.

Applejack held up a roll of red fabric. "This one?"

"That's scarlet, dear."

"This one?"

"No, that one's vermilion. To your left, that's it."

Applejack rolled her eyes and dropped the cloth on Rarity's desk. "Too busy for lunch then?"

"I'm ever so sorry," Rarity said, pushing her glasses back up on her nose, "but if I'm going to finish this in time for the Canterlot Harvest Amateur Art Gallery, I'll have to work all this week."

The farmer glanced over the dress Rarity was working on. "Isn't this a little much for something amateur?" she asked, pointing at the complex frills and laces that graced the gown's train and collar.

"Amateur?" Rarity laughed. "Dear Applejack, remember that this the Canterlot Harvest Art Gallery, Auction, and Charity. The few actual amateurs that will be participating will be art school graduates trying to win the hearts of potential patrons or aspiring entrepreneurs like myself hoping to expose the Canterlot elite to our wares." The white unicorn lifted the dress with her magic to inspect it in the light. "I was quite surprised to see your brother display such interest, I wasn't aware he had an artistic side."

"Me neither," Applejack grumbled.

"Well, I always assumed your brother hid something behind that mysteriously shy facade," Rarity said with a smile. "I look forward to his entry. Oh, don't tell me what it is, I'd prefer it to be a surprise."

"Yeah, sure," Applejack said, distracted. "I'll, uh, see you around, Rarity."

The unicorn waved inattentively, her attention completely monopolized by her dress. The sharp thrusts of the sewing machine echoed through the boutique as Applejack slipped out.

*

"...so that's why Scootaloo's not allowed to be within fifty feet of a construction site," Apple Bloom was saying with her mouthful of carrots.

"Uh huh."

"Anyways, since the harvest's all done, do you think tomorrow's gonna be a free day?" the bowed filly asked. "Cause we're gonna try skiin' cutie marks."

"Skiin' eh?" Granny Smith said. The old mare chuckled. "Oh, now doesn't that sound fun? What do you think, Applejack?"

"Uh huh."

"Applejack?"

Applejack lifted her head suddenly. "Oh, uh, sorry," she said. "Sorry, you were sayin' somethin', Granny?"

The Apple matriarch frowned. "You alright, child?" she asked. "You've barely touched your plate, and I've made fritters, your favorite."

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," Applejack assured. "I'm, uh, just a bit distracted, that's all." She looked across the table and at the empty seat on the other side. "Say, where'd Big Macintosh run off to?"

"Your brother? He excused himself a little earlier and went up to his room," Granny Smith explained.

"Hey, Applejack," Apple Bloom piped in. "If you're not hungry, can I have your fritters?"

Both she and her grandmother watched in shock as Applejack picked up her plate and deposited the cold pastries onto the younger sister's. They watched her excuse herself, place the plate into sink, and head upstairs.

"Granny, I'm scared," Applejack heard Apple Bloom say as she left. She ignored it and marched straight to Big Macintosh's room. Taking a deep breath, Applejack lifted a hoof and knocked.

"Hmm?" came the deep voice from the other side of the door.

"It's me," Applejack answered, taking off her hat. "I, uh, got somethin' for you. Got it from Twilight."

"Oh."

"You mind if I come in?" Applejack asked a little uncertainly.

"Nope. Go ahead."

Applejack pushed open the door and walked inside. She stared at the large red stallion standing in front of a large canvas. Sitting next to him were several pencils of varying lengths, a few paint brushes, and a small tray of red paint.

"Here," she said, holding out the scroll she had received from Twilight. "So, when were you gonna tell me about the Canterlot Harvest Art thing?"

"Tell--"

"Sure, I ain't gettin' all excited over some fancy gallery in Canterlot, but knowin' that my own brother's gonna try and be part of it would have been nice," Applejack said crossly. "I can't believe you tried to hide somethin' like this from your own sister."

"I--"

"What next? You gettin' married, and the way I find out is through an invitation?" Applejack sat down and crossed her forelegs across her chest. "And how long have you been hiding this hobby of yours from me anyways and anyhow?"

Big Macintosh rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed. "I, uh, picked it up when Pa was, you know, still around," he said, looking down toward the floor. "I stopped drawin' and paintin' after he left, and Granny needed more help around the farm."

Applejack slowly closed her mouth.

"Now that Apple Bloom's old enough to help around here, I thought I could try it again." Big Macintosh smiled guiltily. "I know it's a waste of time and everythin', but it's still a lot of fun. It ain't nothin' really, just somethin' to fill free time with."

"Ain't nothing wrong with havin' a hobby to enjoy," Applejack said quietly. "But why try for the Canterlot Harvest Gallery? For somethin' that's just a hobby, you sure seem to aim high."

Big Macintosh was silent for a moment. "It's...just an old dream of mine," he said, fighting back a blush. "When Pa was teachin' me the basics, I kinda told him that one day, even ponies from Canterlot would come see my stuff. I was just a colt then, but I guess a promise is a promise, and I figured this was my chance to fulfill it for Pa," he said, growing ever more flustered. He sighed and shook his head. "Anyways, I didn't tell you 'cause of how busy we were with the harvest, and I didn't want to distract you, that's all." Big Macintosh gave his sister a small sad smile. "Sorry."

Applejack quickly pulled her leg away from her blinking eyes and shook her head fiercely. "A-ain't nothin' to apologize for, Big Mac," she said in a shaky voice. She took a breath to calm herself. "I think that's wonderful, what you're tryin' to do. Guess you'll be headed to Canterlot this weekend then? You finished yet?"

"Almost," Big Macintosh said. "You, uh, wanna see it?"

"Sure."

Big Mac stepped away from the canvas, and Applejack stepped forward. She blinked twice before squinting.

"Is that...the orchard?" she guessed.

"Eeyup."

"That's, uh, there's an awful lot of red, don't you think?" Applejack said, her eyes still focused on the blurred, painted shapes.

"There was a discount on reds, and I didn't really have many bits to spare," Big Macintosh admitted. "So, you like it?"

Applejack bit her lip. "Well," she began, "to be honest, I--"

"Applejack? Big Mac?" Apple Bloom called from the doorway of the room. "Granny needs some help with the--" The filly gasped. "Wow! Big Mac, did you draw that?" Apple Bloom leapt into the room and wiggled between her older siblings to get in front of the painting. "Wow," she said again. "I didn't you could draw."

Big Macintosh blushed. The tips of his lips lifted into an embarrassed smile. "Uh, well--"

"That's the orchard, ain't it? That's so cool! Hey, you think you could teach me and the rest of the Crusaders?" Apple Bloom asked. "We'd get paintin' and drawin' cutie marks in no time!"

"I guess I--"

"Apple Bloom!" hollered Granny Smith from the floor below. "Move your caboose and put your plate away already! And somepony feed Winona, she's givin' me that look again!"

"Oops. Comin' Granny!" Apple Bloom shouted back. She immediately dashed out of the room as Applejack and Big Macintosh watched.

Applejack shook her head and sighed. "I'd better go help out too. It looks great, the paintin' I mean."

Big Macintosh looked up and beamed. "Y-you mean it?"

"Yeah," Applejack said, turning her back toward her brother and his creation. She shut her eyes. "Honest."

*

"Applejack, darling, as much as I appreciate your assistance," Rarity began, fussing with her needles, "a little responsiveness would not hurt."

"Huh? Oh, sorry 'bout that," Applejack said. As she turned, the trains of the elegant gown she wore fluttered and swished. "What do you need me to do?"

"Just walk this way, toward me please," Rarity instructed. She pushed her glasses back up on her nose and nodded. "Yes, just like that, oh yes, that looks good," the unicorn muttered as she quickly jotted down a few words into her notepad. "Hmm, but I suppose a bolder color would look far better in the light, scarlet perhaps."

"Huh, oh, sure." Applejack brought a hoof to her mouth as she suppressed a yawn. "Whatever works."

"Yes, yes, so it does." Rarity looked over to the clock on her desk before removing her glasses and setting them aside. "Why don't we take a break?" she offered. "Perhaps some tea and biscuits, as a token of my appreciation?"

"I'm havin' lunch with Twilight later, but I won't say no to some tea. Could use somethin' warm." Applejack carefully wiggled out of the dress and draped it over a nearby mannequin. "Uh, listen, got a question I've been meaning to ask you," she said as she approached the seamstress. "You, uh, remember our Gala dresses?"

Rarity nodded as she pour tea from a small porcelain teapot into a matching pair of teacups. "Ah yes, what a pity that night turned out to be."

"Yeah, but I was talkin' about our original dresses. You know, the ones we made you make us?"

"Oh." The teapot shook, spilling a few drops onto the tablecloth. "Yes, those, what of them?"

"I was wonderin', how do you tell somepony the truth 'bout somethin' like that?"

"Tell somepony the truth?" Rarity repeated, confused. "Darling, I'd assume you'd be the expert here, not I. What do you mean, about something like this?"

"Like when somepony's done somethin' they're really proud of, only you're not too sure it's somethin' to be proud of," Applejack tried to explain. "Like, say for the first designs of our dresses, how'd you keep from tellin' all of us how ugly our dresses were gonna look? What do you call it, a pale lie?"

"A white lie?" Rarity motioned Applejack toward the table and waited for her to take a sip of tea before tending to her own cup. "I suppose it was a misplaced desire to avoid hurting feelings as well as a foolish need to please all of my friends."

"Yeah, but tellin' us the truth would have prevented a bunch of problems," Applejack said suddenly, leaning over the table. "We could've avoided that whole disaster of a fashion show."

Rarity frowned as she set her cup back onto the saucer. "I am aware of this, yes," she said coolly. "What exactly are you trying to say? Act surprised if you must, but I much prefer how straightforward you normally are to this timid roundabout of a conversation."

"It's..." Applejack groaned and planted her face into the table. "You know that art thing at Canterlot?"

"The Canterlot Harvest Amateur Art Gallery, Auction, and Charity?" Rarity said. "Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, you know Big Mac's takin' part in it, and, well..." Applejack sighed. "I just think it's a really bad idea."

"A bad idea? Why would you say that?" Rarity questioned.

"I saw some of his drawin's. They're not great. Not saying they're bad or somethin' like that, but they ain't anything to be proud of. He loves paintin' though, and there's a whole lot of history behind it, but I remembered what you told me the other day, how Canterlot the Canterlot Art Gallery is, how it ain't 'actly for amateurs." Applejack covered her face with one hoof and slammed the table with the other. "I don't want to see my brother laughed at by a bunch of snobby high class ponies, but I can't just tell him he's got no place being there, it'd break that stallion's heart."

"Truly dear?" Rarity asked. "Perhaps you're overreacting, a little constructive criticism never killed a pony before."

"You don't know my brother. The big in his name stands for big heart, and he's a lot more sensitive than you think," said Applejack, lifting her head. "I don't know what to do right now."

"So, allow me see if I am understanding all this, and fill free to correct me," Rarity said. She had gotten up and had begun pacing. "On the one hoof, you do not wish to see Big Macintosh embarrass himself, but on the other, you do not want to stop him from doing what he loves. Is that the gist?"

"That's 'bout right."

"And is entering the Canterlot Harvest Amateur Art Gallery, Auction, and Charity absolutely necessary?"

"You have no idea how important this is to him," Applejack answered fiercely.

"Very well," Rarity said, returning to her seat. "I have a bit of a confession to make. I may have made a slightly exaggeration," she admitted. "While it is true that a large proportion of the gallery is composed of artists of or pursuing profession levels, there are still many entries made by ponies whose cutie marks demonstrate nothing related to artistic ability whatsoever. The presence of professionally done pieces does justify my desire to present the greatest work I possible can, but it should by no means deter your brother from entering as well."

"Still, if his stuff is gonna stand right next to some fancy artist's stuff--" Applejack began.

"Then the difference in quality will be apparent, yes," Rarity finished, "which, in itself, might prove quite embarrassing. But if Big Macintosh truly loves painting, and if being part of this gallery is so important, then the comparisons between his work and a professional's shouldn't bother him. Miff maybe, motivate to improve perhaps, but devastate?" Rarity shook her head. "Then again, like you said, I do not know your brother very well. This is something you should discuss with him."

"You really think I should talk to him 'bout this?" Applejack asked.

Rarity nodded. "Most definitely. At least he'll know what to expect. Honesty is the best policy, is it not?" she added with a wink.

Applejack chuckled. "Yeah, I suppose." The farm pony got up and stretched. "Thanks Rarity, it was nice gettin' all that out in the open."

"Anytime darling," Rarity said, waving her hoof. "Now you'd best be off if you're to be in time for lunch with Twilight. Heaven help you should you be late."

"Aw shoot," Applejack groaned. She quickly headed toward the boutique's exit.

"Oh, and Applejack?"

Applejack paused with one hoof out the door. She turned.

"Pride is a fickle thing for artists, especially toward their own pieces. The ones who are most proud are those closest to them. At least, that's what I like to believe." Rarity's glasses were already back on the rim of her nose. The dress Applejack had worn sat in front of the seamstress as she considered it besides a large roll of bright red cloth. "Be sure to tell Big Macintosh I wish him the best of luck and that I look forward to his presentation,"

*

Applejack's heavy steps echoed against the hard wooden stairs. They followed her down the hall until she stopped in front of a closed door. Her saddlebags shifted as she raised a hoof.

"Like this?" she heard Apple Bloom say from inside the room. There was a muffled answer in reply, too long for a simple 'eeyup' or 'nope'. Applejack allowed a small smile light her features before knocking.

Big Macintosh was the one to open the door. "I--" he began.

"Hey Applejack!" Apple Bloom said happily as she bounced beside the red stallion. Her cheeks were blushed with paint that matched her hair, and she wore a small stained apron that had once been green. "Welcome back, sis. I thought you were havin' lunch with Twilight."

"It was a short lunch," Applejack answered. "She was kinda busy so I didn't really stay and chat. So, what are you two workin' on?" she asked, stepping into the room. "Does Granny know you're wearin' her apron?"

"Uh, well--"

"Look what Big Mac helped me make!" Apple Bloom dragged Applejack further inside, toward an easel surrounded by cans of paint and several wet brushes. Their hooves made crinkling sounds against the floor of newspapers.

Applejack stared at the picture on the easel. Four basic figures of ponies of varying heights and sizes stood together in front of the outline of a box. The second largest pony had something on the top of its head, a unicorn perhaps?

"It's us!" Apple Bloom declared excitedly. "See, that's you, that's me, I had a lot of trouble drawin' Granny's walker so that's her standin', and that's Big Mac, and we're all in front of the barn."

"How come Big Macintosh's the only one with his colors right?" Applejack joked, swinging her foreleg around her little sister. "Pretty sure Granny and me ain't that red, though maybe you're just fine." Applejack gently pressed Apple Bloom's painted nose.

"Hmph." Apple Bloom struggled out of Applejack's grasp and stuck her tongue out.

Applejack laughed. "Clean yourself off 'fore Granny finds you and thinks you got to our jams," she said.

"Aw, a bath now? It's still early," Apple Bloom complained. "We didn't even finish our lesson," the filly added with a pout, turning her quivering eyes toward her older brother.

Big Macintosh shook his head and look away. "You--"

"You can finish later," Applejack said, giving Apple Bloom a small nudge toward the door. "Better try and get that apron cleaned before supper, else Granny really will have a fit."

"Fine," Apple Bloom groaned, rolling her eyes as she left. The older Apple siblings watch her leave a trail of red hoof prints.

"I'll, uh, clean that," Big Macintosh assured.

"That's fine, but later." Applejack sat herself on Big Macintosh's bed. "I wanna see that picture you've been paintin' for the Canterlot art thing again first."

Big Macintosh opened his mouth as if to argue, then shut it as he picked up the canvas that was leaning in the corner and placed it on the easel.

Applejack stared for a moment, then sighed.

"Somethin' wrong, Sis?"

Applejack produced a book from her saddlebags and opened it to a page marked by a ribbon. "I borrowed this from Twilight," she said, pushing it toward her brother. "It's some of the stuff from previous Canterlot Harvest Art Galleries."

She waited to give Big Macintosh time to glance over the pictures. "Listen Big Mac, I know this gallery's pretty important. I know how much it means to you to be part of it, but I don't want to see you hurt either." Applejack leaned forward and pointed at one of the photos in the book. It was of a gorgeous depiction of Princess Celestia sitting with her head raised high as she guided the ascending sun. "This is what your picture's gonna be up against, stuff like this."

Big Macintosh kept his eyes glued on book. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I need to make sure you won't be hurt. You're my brother, and we Apples look after our kin." Applejack wrapped her hoof around Big Mac's and squeezed, hard. "I have to make sure that when you see your paintin' next to something like this, when you hear those snooty uptight high class ponies say what they want, when whatever happens happens, you'll be fine. I need to make sure you can handle being rejected.

"I need to be honest, I love your picture, I really do." She gave Big Macintosh a sad smile. "But I just don't know if it's that great. You get that, right?"

Big Macintosh stared at the picture in the book, then at his painting in the center of the room. "Yep."

"I mean, why does it have to be this year? You could spend a year brushin' up on your skills, save a few bits for some extra colors and some better brushes, then try again next harvest," Applejack suggested. "You can still keep your promise to Pa. There'll always be more chances, right?"

"Applejack," Big Macintosh began slowly, "we're farmers. We don't 'actly have the luxury of spending time on a hobby when there're chores to do. This year was an easier harvest; everythin' was just as planned and went without a hitch. But next year, who knows? I might not have any time at all to touch a brush." He shook his head. "Not to mention how each year entry fees get more expensive. I was lucky this time, but I can't always rely on luck. I don't know when the next chance will come, and when it does, it might be too late." Big Macintosh lifted his head and his eyes met her. "I don't wanna risk it, I've gotta try now."

"And you'll be fine?" Applejack asked, refusing to break eye contact.

Big Mac nodded. "It ain't about doing well or lookin' good in front a bunch of Canterlot ponies," he said. "I don't care 'bout that, knowin' you and Apple Bloom like my drawin's is enough. What matters is simply bein' there and sharin' my work with others like I told Pa, even if they don't appreciate it as much as I do, as much as you do."

"You sure 'bout all this? I don't want you hurt."

Big Macintosh pressed Applejack close to him and shut his eyes. His forelegs went around her shoulders as hers wrapped around his trunk.

"Eeyup."

*

"Good morning, Miss Applejack," the uniformed stallion greeted as he took his position on the edge of the station platform. "You're awfully early, aren't you? Heading to Canterlot today?"

Applejack shook her head. "Just pickin' up my brother," she said, covering her yawn with a hoof. "He said he'd be on the first train back to Ponyville soon as the gallery finished."

"Oh, is he not staying awhile longer, perhaps to see the sights?" the station porter asked. "It's not every day a stallion like him gets to see Canterlot."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing," the stallion said hurriedly, holding up his hooves. "It's just he always seems so busy, that's all."

"Hmm." Applejack sat back down. "When's the train arriving?" she asked, glancing over at the clock above the ticket vendor.

"Well, you're still pretty early, it could be a few minutes before the first trains start coming in, and those aren't for or from Canterlot." The porter stretched and started to leave. "I've got time to grab some coffee, you want a cup?"

Applejack nodded. "Black, no sugar or cream," she said, looking back at the station clock. She watched as the long thin second hand slowly spun. In her mind, she made short ticking sounds as time passed. Thirty ticks, sixty ticks, two hundred ticks. The long thick minute hand had nudged forward twice.

"Miss Applejack?"

The porter had returned with her coffee. Applejack thanked him and accepted the paper cup, careful to avoid spilling the hot murky liquid. The heat radiating from the cup warmed her hooves that had been chilled by the cool autumn air. Applejack took a deep breath, taking in the the coffee's fragrance. She smiled and set the cup to the side. More minutes had passed.

More ponies had appeared, several carrying pieces of luggage. Some brushed by her on the way to the ticket counter. The first train stopped, the conductor gave a shout, and the station came alive. Applejack gave no hint of noticing the noise as ponies rushed past her with their luggage behind them. She ignored the shrill whistles and the final call for passengers.

The train to Trottingham did not concern her. She ignored the gaggle of tourists from the Crystal Empire.

"The train from Canterlot will be arriving shortly," the announcer cried. "Please maintain a safe distance from the edge of the platform, thank you."

Applejack tossed the cup of cold coffee in a nearby trash bin and approached the platform's end. A small crowd had already begun to form. Even as she made her way, she could hear the screeches of the train's metal wheels against the tracks. There was a sharp blare from the whistle as the locomotive came into sight, dragging its passenger cars with it. It grew larger as it it grew closer

The train began to slow, then it stopped completely before the platform. Station workers urged the crowd back, and once room had been cleared, the doors opened. Applejack watched the first few passengers exit, her interest in them disappearing once she realized who they weren't.

At last Applejack saw a red stallion leave the train, listening somewhat awkwardly as the white unicorn beside him spoke rapidly. She paused, much to Big Macintosh's evident relief, at the sight of the elder Apple sister.

"Applejack, darling!" Rarity called, waving toward her. All three ponies pushed forward through the small crowd. "Oh, how I wish you could have been there. Why, I was just telling Big Macintosh about the little get-together I had with one of ladies I met at the auction. A Manehattan mare, quite remarkable, very charming, you need to meet her."

"Yeah, I'm sure I would have enjoyed it," Applejack said, rolling her eyes. "The rest of the girls couldn't make it. Pinkie Pie's been preparin' a surprise party for your return."

"Well, then I must do my best to appear surprised, won't I?" Rarity said with a smirk.

Applejack turned to her brother. "So, uh," she began cautiously, "how was it?"

"It--"

"Where's your picture?" she interrupted, looking around. The wrapped canvas he had taken with him to Canterlot was absent.

"Left it behind," Big Mac answered shortly.

"Oh." Applejack swallowed. She placed a hoof on Big Macintosh's shoulder. "Listen, I'm sorry, but you should be proud 'bout what you did. Pa sure would have. You shouldn't have thrown that picture away."

Rarity gasped. "Thrown it away? Applejack, what are you saying?" She stared at Big Macintosh as he rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "Big Macintosh sold it at the auction."

Applejack's mouth fell open. "H-he sold it? Some pony from Canterlot actually bought it?"

"But of course," Rarity said. "Why are you so surprised? I certainly was impressed by his decision of using a single color. How did Photo Finish describe it? Oh yes." She cleared her throat and lifted her hoof dramatically. "Minimalistic, but oh so bold, ze very expression of soul, of ze spirit. Ze shades of reds, zey scream at me! I see it in ze strokes, I see it, ze magics!" Rarity began to giggle. "Or something along those lines. Isn't that right, Big Macintosh?"

The red stallion was practically glowing. "Shucks," he mumbled to the floor.

"Oh no need to be so modest my dear," Rarity laughed. "Why, your brother's item was auctioned off at a recording breaking price."

"Record breaking?" Applejack repeated. "How much?"

Big Macintosh lifted his head and gave his sister a little smile.

"A vermillion bits."

*

Next Chapter: Life's a Drag On Estimated time remaining: 2 Hours, 38 Minutes
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