July 1st, 993 Domina Solaria

Applejack stirs in the master bedroom of the Apple farmhouse, the sky dark outside. Giddy anticipation of the upcoming Summer Sun Celebration leaves tingles of excitement coursing through her body. Especially the back part of her body. She fumbles around for that special somepony she wants to share that excitement with, but there’s nothing there. Just Rainbow Dash’s comatose form, lightly snoring. She groans at the prospect of leaving her comfy bed, the chore getting harder with every passing day. But the cool night air wafting over her exposed back only highlights the absence of arm around her. She grits her teeth against the chill. That furnace of a stallion must have secluded himself in his office again.

She huffs as she hops out of bed, not bothering to muffle her hoofsteps as she trots to her old room. She wants him to hear her coming, to prepare his flimsy excuses for why he doesn’t see fit to greet her proper-like in the morning, even if all she wants is a cuddle session and ear scratches. She doesn’t bother to knock, just pushes the door open and sticks her head inside.

Her bedroom has never been a place Applejack particularly enjoys spending her time - well, until Doug came along. She vastly prefers the outdoors, specifically the orchards, and the sparse furnishings reflect that. Just a few pictures on the wall, pegs for her hat and rope, and a small reading nook complete with pillow that only sees real use in the winter.

But Doug brought more than a few changes when he commandeered the room as his new office. The unused bed rests on the opposite wall, as far from the window as possible, and in its place is an aged, many-drawered desk he bartered from Burnt Oak. Moonlight illuminates a blown-up map of the farms surrounding Fillydelphia, crease lines breaking the otherwise smooth surface. A solitary green folder sits upright on the edge of the desk with an obvious empty space for many more to eventually join. Its tan sister lays open like a naked, murdered mare, given how clinically Doug pores over the contents.

He doesn’t even look up, though his lips purse at the intrusion. He taps the back end of a blue and yellow pencil against the table with no particular rhythm, then flicks it with a bit more force.

“Hey,” Applejack greets with a tired sigh, her heavy hoofsteps loud in the silent room. Even though she feels mad at him for being out of bed, it’s hard to fault him for doing something productive. She glances over the scattered papers, none of it interesting or pertaining to the farm, and returns to his weary face. “Trouble sleepin’?”

A finger pushes down one of the creases, an annoyed grunt not really directed at her. “Something like that,” Doug says with a touch of resignation, unabashedly studying the paper even as his lead mare again finds him out of bed. “I just… I just can’t find a way.”

“A way to what?” Applejack says as she pulls next to him, offering her head as a sacrifice for his frustrations.

Doug takes the bait, his hand running through the thick, tangled mane. It helps perk up his mood at least and he stares out the window at the clear, starry night. “There has to be a better way to get rid of all the excess water than a storm.”

“Why’zat?” Applejack struggles to get out, the fingers digging into the back of her neck as distracting as they are wonderful.

Doug drops his pencil and leans back in his chair, inviting Applejack to join him. Well, as much as she is able; the chairs are built to support Big Mac, and the two of them almost equal his weight. But it’s not exactly comfortable, so Applejack just props her forelegs on his other side and drapes herself across his lap. He stares at the ceiling as he mulls over how to explain, both hands running over her rough coat.

“Ya wanna move to the bed?” Applejack asks guilelessly. Even though she enjoys the position - really, any contact with her stallion - she would rather be someplace they both find more comfortable.

A light push is all the prompting Applejack needs to hop down and slowly walk to the bed. She lets Doug lead, and a thin smile crosses her muzzle as he lays down and guides her to on top. He’s not hard, not yet, and she leans down to plant a soft kiss on his chest. Her hind legs nestle outside of his hips, her forelegs hook under his arms and lightly pet at his shoulders.

“It comes down to water in the air,” Doug explains as his fingers again run along her coat, part of him wishing he could brush out the minor tangles and get Applejack’s coat sleek and satiny. Alas - though he isn’t really sorry - his bare hands will have to do. “The water cycle… to put it succinctly, doesn’t circulate like I was used to. It tends to just hang out in one spot instead of shift around, or form clouds, unless it just condenses on a random surface.”

“Right,” Applejack says as he pauses. Her body slowly and rhythmically pushes against his, then pulls back down, and even though she knows it’s distracting keeps the tantalizing motion going. Serves him right for leaving her wanting when she woke up!

A pleased moan rumbles in Doug’s throat as Applejack’s belly presses against his, a little harder than the day before, and a little harder than the day before that. The reason why fills him with pride, his hands cupping her belly and kneading at the life growing inside. His moan grows a little more audible as he presses harder, shifting lower until he’s stroking at her mostly-the-same-size teats. He offhandedly asks, “...Where was I again?”

“Somethin’ ‘bout water,” Applejack mumbles against his chest. Her tail lashes against the quilt, his raised knees, not quite to the point where she’ll use it to prop him up and inside her.

“Right.” Doug slows, content to keep her teats cupped and gently squeeze each in turn. “As the air gets colder it can’t hold as much water. Which means the humidity goes up and nopony likes high humidity. Like, you’d rather work in a hundred degrees and zero humidity than eighty and a hundred.”

“A hundred?” Applejack asks, raising an eyebrow. “It ain’t boilin’ outside.”

“Derp,” Doug says, rolling his eyes. “You use Celcius, not Fahrenheit.”

“Celecius,” Applejack corrects, a quick peck just under his neck.

Doug mostly ignores her besides tweaking her teat, yet Applejack just snickers at getting to him. “You’d rather work outside at thirty five degrees and dry than twenty five with a hundred percent humidity.”

“It don’t get that hot,” Applejack objects, smirking to herself as she snuggles against her stallion.

“My point remains,” Doug says, his voice straining a little. Applejack accedes, settling down and content to plant soft kisses wherever her muzzle lands. “For some reason, normal rain doesn’t really clear that water vapor away. It has to be a big, dumb storm complete with thunder and lightning and whatnot. And, because you have a radical climate shift after each of the season changes, a storm is almost necessary after Summer Wrap Up, and periodically during the fall.” He sighs, sinking down against the bed. “Problem is, these storms are really wasteful, and muck everything up. If there was another way, it’d be great, but I don’t see it.”

“Ya know what Ah think would help?” Applejack asks, sitting up a little to look her stallion in the eyes.

“What’s that?” Doug says, meeting her steady gaze.

“Relax,” Applejack commands, her tail slinking back to stroke his semi-hard member, “and enjoy the Summer Sun Celebration.” She pushes forward to kiss him on the lips as she slips him inside her. “There’ll be plenty of time for worryin’ ‘bout that tomorrow.”

*

“Ain’t that a beaut?” Applejack asks from the eastern slope of the tall hill north of the Apple farmhouse. She spoons in Doug’s lap, tail curling across her full belly. They had to cajole Rarity the day before to make the trek before dawn but she’s there, Rainbow Dash on the opposite side of Doug and each cuddling next to a leg. Fluttershy rests her head on Rainbow’s flank and against Doug’s side, happily humming to herself.

Doug rests one of the slimmer, more specialized weather manuals against the back of Applejack’s head, drawing an irritated grumble from the mare.

“It helps if you actually look at the sky,” Applejack grunts out.

Doug sighs as he looks up, only to be entranced by the shifting sky. One at a time the ten thousand stars above wink out, starting in the east and working their way overhead and behind. A slowly rolling wave of deep purple replaces the black, then steadily lightening into dark blues, yellows, oranges, reds, until finally the golden corona appears, the sun itself blocked by the Canterhorn. Canterlot is backlit by the sunrise, an entire city of gold and pearls shining like a beacon to Princess Celestia’s majesty.

“Amazing,” Fluttershy mutters from his side, the ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ of the other ponies joining in.

“I like it more when you can see the Princess on her balcony,” Rainbow Dash says, spoiling the mood slightly. Doug laughs as Applejack leans over and cuffs the pegasus on the back of the head. Rainbow Dash chuckles but takes the hint, settling back down.

If Doug was to be honest, it looks a lot like all the other sunrises he’s had the pleasure of seeing. Majestic, serene, and surreal. That last one because the thought that one pony is not only that powerful, but also a potential linchpin should something happen to her. And the ponies’ reaction to this is to throw her a party once a year. Oh, and make her their Princess. Maybe that counts for something.

“Alright, y’all,” Applejack says as she rolls over and gives her stallion a wet smooch. She pulls back, frowning at the manual in his hand as Rarity leans back for a kiss. “You best not be thinkin’ ‘bout bringin’ that.”

“I’ll put it away when ponies talk to me,” Doug gets out before Rainbow Dash smothers him.

A half minute later and Doug wrenches the mare off him, her disappointment at being denied more Doug time that morning - even if it’s just watching and cuddling after - quite apparent. Fluttershy, on the other hoof, waits patiently for her turn, a chaste kiss before they all head to Ponyville.

“This seems like all the other parties in Ponyville,” Doug remarks as they enter the town, “except for the ‘sun’ theme. Is it because Pinkie Pie runs the parties?”

“Just wait until Nightmare Night!” Rainbow Dash exclaims as they weave between various games like the Sun Toss with bean bags decorated like suns and booths with sun-shaped desserts and pastries. “That’s the best one!”

“Hi, Doug!” Pinkie Pie greets as she pronks towards them, somehow balancing two platters of food on her head and not spilling. “And Applejack! And Rarity! And Rainbow Dash! And Fluttershy! A warm Summer Sun Celebration to you!”

“Hi, Pinkie Pie!” the five chorus back. Each catches the orange and yellow cupcake she tosses them.

“And for you,” Pinkie Pie says, sliding the now empty platter underneath the other, “something special for your very first Summer Sun Celebration!”

“You... must have gone all out,” Doug says, eyeing the three heaping dishes. “A sundae. Sunflower seeds; shelled, thank you. And… eggs sunny side up?”

“Yuppers!” Pinkie Pie exclaims happily, sliding a single platter to him. The other one disappeared somewhere. “When you finish them, I’ll have more!”

Doug gulps nervously. She probably used a dozen eggs, and a pound of seeds, and the sundae will have melted even if he starts with it. He looks around for the other mares, but they’ve all disappeared. “I already ate breakfast, so-”

“Nice try!” Pinkie Pie says with a chuckle. She winks at Doug. “You have all day!”

“I… do?” Doug says, trying to hide his sigh and mostly failing. It seems like a waste, and he only brought the one book.

“Mmhmm!” Pinkie Pie nods fervently. “So, pace yourself! And if you eat everything, you get a prize!”

“Is it a good prize?” Doug asks as he looks around for someplace to sit. Hopefully in the shade, if he’s going to be here all day.

“You’ll like it!” Pinkie Pie says with a wink, then pronks off to find some five month old foals to give the same challenge.

Doug shrugs to himself, spotting a single human style chair at one of the nearby cafes. For some reason. He chooses to blame Pinkie Pie as he sits down, and immediately laments the lack of silverware. Maybe he could get a stick or something, or-

“Hello!” a mare pleasantly greets as she takes a spot at the table opposite Doug.

It surprises him, especially with the eggs a style most ponies avoid. She’s average height for an earth pony, lustrous silver coat, glasses, perky and cute.

“My name’s Silver Set,” she says with a smile. “Mind if I join you?”

Next Chapter: Ch. 98 - Razor of the Seventh Sun Estimated time remaining: 2 Hours, 26 Minutes