I wake up to the glow of daylight from the windowsill. The pecks and kisses of the sun’s warm rays on my eyelids beckon me to rise.

I open my eyes to find myself alone in the room. It is the same room where I had slept, yet somehow all too different. The ominous shadows of last night are gone, the morning has returned the bright vibrant purple colors of the bed sheets and curtains.

As I try to rise, I catch a whiff of the fragrant blanket draped over me. It is one of those new blankets that carry the scent of summer, fresh from the laundry, nullifying the smell of perspiration from the still-warm bed.

Over the drawer from the bedside table I see a brown Stetson hanging over the lampshade; and with it follows the memories of last night: the agrestic rhythmic motions, the heat from another mare’s body, the brush of her wet, smooth coat against mine, the sound of ecstatic moaning, the pornographic surrender to temptation, wallowing in the conglomeration of guilt and pleasure.

In one swift motion my hoof snaps and flings the hat aside as though it is a lethal object. I wrap my hooves around my shoulders.

My first time… My first time!?

With Applejack!

The sound of a knob turning makes me grab the blanket and cover my exposed breast. Applejack strides out from the bathroom.

“M-Mornin’…” she says.

I try to respond, but no words come out of my mouth. I nod instead.

She dries her wet mane with a towel, in a motion that seems too slow, too polite, than her usual demeanor.

“I… uh… used yer shower if ya don’t mind,” she says. “In case ya… Ah mean… just in case ya want me out... or somethin’.”

“...It’s fine,” I squeak out.

Applejack finishes with her mane and proceeds to dry her coat. She pauses for a second, looking back to the bathroom door from where she came. She turns her head to me, to the bathroom door again, hesitating whether she should return to the privacy of the shower in drying herself, but decides against it, staying in place. The silence returns and Applejack finds her hat on the floor. She looks at it for a moment and picks it up with her mouth. She considers putting the Stetson back on the lampshade where she had left it–and where I flung it away, but settles the hat on the coat hanger instead.

We both look around the room, to everything but each other, looking for some chore to do.

The silence becomes too heavy to bear for the both of us.

“Can ah–”

“May I–”

We both say at the same time. A long pause follows. We avert our eyes from one another and the silence grows heavier.

“W-What is it?” I ask.

“Nah… you… ya go first.”

“Well, May... may I use the lady’s room... for a minute... to... to wash my face?”

“Sure, sure… Of course.” She fumbles and stands aside. “Go right ahead.”

“Thank you.”

Once inside the bathroom, I lock the door close, quietly enough so she cannot hear.

Breathe… breathe…

I take long deep breaths as though I had resurfaced from quicksand. I rush to the sink and splash water all over my face.

“Breathe…” I tell the mare in the mirror. She has an untarnished complexion, the kind that flourishes most in the pinnacle of health and youth. Her wide and prismatic eyes indicate she had a good night’s sleep. Her stress is not physical, if any, and only her unkempt mane would arouse suspicion otherwise.

She dries her face with a towel and takes several more deep breaths. “Just relax...” I tell her, “just talk to her... She’s one of your best friends... the most dependable and...”

I return to the bedchamber feeling fresher than when I left, more confident at least.

But still not enough.

Applejack stands abruptly from the bed when she sees me. I must have done the same. Something falls behind her and a cheap 2-bit comb rolls onto the floor. We both look at it until it stops just under the bed. By instinct I look at Applejack’s mane and see a few loose ends still entangled with the morning daze and the remnants of tense sleep.

“Do you mind if I... brush your mane?” I ask.

Applejack blinks twice. She looks around her, as though searching for somepony to give her the answer she can’t. Finding no such ally, she turns to me and makes a quiet nod.

She sits to my small vanity, still as uncomfortable as I in the unnatural acceptance of what should just be a casual offer between friends. My horn glows and I levitate my brush through her mane. It takes a little more time than I had expected; the interwoven strands untangle loosely but some recalcitrant lock of hair forces the brush to a halt.

Twice or thrice our eyes meet in the mirror, and the both of us immediately turn away.

I open my mouth to say something, but hesitate. The pause grows heavier with every wasted second and the pregnant silence looms overhead, eating away at every thought and every awkward mumble.

Finally, the more courageous pony speaks first.

“Last night wasn’t a dream…” she says. “was it?”

“N-No,” I reply, taking my hooves from her mane. “It wasn’t.”

Applejack lowers her gaze. “You know ah–”

“Applejack, I’m sorry!” I blurt out, unable to control it any longer. I fall to my knees beside and below her. “I’m incredibly sorry for last night. The things I’ve said and done and–”

“Ah don’t–” she tries to say, but I cannot hear it amidst my outburst.

“What I made you do. It wasn’t right. I took advantage of your lo–…” the word was lost to me, caught at the back of my throat. I fear to say the word. Not because I do not know whether it’s true or not, but because I do.

Applejack is already beside me, her hooves around my neck in a friendly embrace.

“Ya don’t have to push me away,” she says. “Just tell me to leave and ah’ll go. Ah told you ah’ll protect ya. Even from mahself… especially from mahself. Say it, Rare. Tell me to go away, and ah will.”

I respond to her embrace with my own. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s awright… ah mean… We’re gonna talk this out, just like last time. But first ya need to calm down.”

“O-Okay.”

“We pulled through it then, we’re gonna do it again.”

She pulls herself away from me and backs off a few steps.

“But first, ah want to make something clear. I… uh…” she bites her lower lips and scratches her head. “Ah don’t want ya to get the wrong impression... ah don’t regret what happened last night… Ah mean… not as much as ah thought ah would.”

My hoof comes to my mouth in time to cover my gasp.

“The things ya said last night… ‘bout me... well, ah wouldn’t say they’re right but it ain’t all lies.” She prods on the floor with her hoof. “What ah’m tryin’ to say here is that… what you said and what ah said… ah mean… when ah told you that ah l-love ya… ah meant it.”

Applejack’s eye is downcast. She stomps on the floor.

“Consarn it! Ah meant it then and ah mean it now. Rarity, ah… ah love ya…” she immediately grabs her hat and covers her face. “There, ah said it… Ah couldn’t go with the rest of day knowin’ that ah didn’t tell you what ah should.”

“A-Applejack, I… I didn’t know.”

She peeks from her hat for a second. “But you said ya knew, right?”

“It was just my assumption. I was being conceited. I just… assumed… Believe me, if I only knew what you truly felt for me then I wouldn’t have forced you…”

“Ah believe ya, sugarcube. But now, ya know how ah really feel about ya and… if ya want to keep yer distance from me then ah don’t blame ya.”

Applejack places her hat back on her head and trots to the door.

“Wait!” I say, louder than I meant to. “I didn’t… say such a thing.”

Applejack stops almost immediately. She turns to me, a spark of hope brightening her eyes. For the first time this morning, Applejack smiles. “Well, that’s... Ah’m mighty glad to hear it.”

“Yes, we are on a… recluse to try to make up for our mistakes. Perhaps this would be a part of it. If I could… change the past–”

“Ah woudn’t,” Applejack admits. “Not this time.”

“You… You wouldn’t?”

“Call it shameful, but ah won’t. Ah wish it could’ve been better but… it was our… first time… If ya could call it that. Guess it was special… for me. With me, lovin’ ya and all.”

“Applejack, I–” I clear my throat. “I still haven’t told you how I felt about you.”

“Last night ya whispered ya love me…”

My eyes widen. “I did.”

“Ya. But I reckon ya weren’t yerself then so… y’know…” she shrugs, “doesn’t count.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was… uh… sweet to hear… and it made me happy to hear ya say it. Ah almost believed it mahself and… it felt good. Even for a moment.”

“Do you want me to… tell you how I feel?”

There is small movement inside Applejack’s mouth, as though she bites her tongue in preparation for the worst. “Ah wouldn’t force ya…’

“I won’t force myself either. But… to be fair to you.” I pause for a moment and take long deep breaths. “Applejack, I’m confused. I don’t know… I’m just… You’re a very dear friend of mine, one of the greatest mares I know. And… I never saw you as anything other than a friend… but after last night… I just don’t know what to feel any more. I’m very happy that you feel that way for me, I really do, but I can’t say I feel the same. I don’t know if I love you or not, I don’t even know if I want to or not.”

Applejack’s eyes remains fix to me, observant and forever patient, as though she is impervious to whatever I have to say, and my words would ricochet from off unyielding confidence back to sting the cowardice of my confused heart.

She knows what I feel about her, I realize, even when I don’t.

“But… considering what we have, I don’t think it is all impossible…” I try to assure her. “Perhaps, given time, it could work, the two of us. There’s a chance and maybe, just maybe, we could eventually—what are you—Hmpff!”

Applejack lunges forward presses her lips against mine.

The sudden movement, the sound of the perfume bottle breaking, the electrifying touch of Applejack’s mouth— all of my senses erupt in a sudden uproar and, just as quickly, fade away in the morning glow. An abrupt stillness is all that’s left, one that lingers in my chest.

My hoof presses against her chest. I know I can push her away, and that she will retreat at the slightest hint of resistance. But my hoof does not obey me, it slides down like the fallen pieces of an iceberg melting under the warmth of a kiss. My whole body eases in complete surrender.

Applejack draws back and I see a triumphant smile on her face. Whatever emotion she desires to raise from me, she’s won it.

“Did that help mah chances?” she asks.

“Applejack…” I clear my throat. “You’re only making me more confused.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

I turn away from her in shame. “…No.”

She kisses me again. More powerful this time, more gentle. Her hoof climbs from my shoulder to my neck, pulling my head closer. Slowly, my hoof responds and I pull her in.

“I-I’ve… decided,” she says in between kisses. “When you said that… I’ve got a chance… that it ain’t impossible… I’ve made my choice that… I’ll make you my mare.”

Applejack pulls away and laughs softly.

“We’re… we’re a mess aren’t we?”

I try to smile back. “Indeed, we are.”

“I’ve always believed that this was a long time coming but… now that we’re here… it feels like it’s happening too fast.”

“We can take it slow, darling.” I grab Applejack by her Stetson and kiss her. She does not resist.

But the passionate surreal quality of the moment is underscored by the incongruous grumble of my stomach.

Applejack and I draw back from one another. I can see her struggle to hold back the laughter, but she could not maintain it for long. She bursts out laughing.

“Well… that’s just…! Feeling all the blood rise up to my face. I briskly turn around.

“What do you…” she says in between giggles, trying to catch her breath, “what’d ya say we get ourselves some breakfast first.”

“Splendid idea.” I levitate a brush and comb my mane. “Just let me fix my mane for a minute.”

Applejack grabs me by the shoulder and turns me to face her, her hoof beneath my chin. “Hope ya can brush with yer eyes close.”

“Why?” But I needn’t ask. I knew, when she leaned forward, exactly what she wanted.

“Cuz ah ain’t done with those wonderful lips yet.”

“Mighty kind of ya to be invitin’ us to breakfast like this, princess,” Applejack says, taking a bite out of her sandwich. “What’d ya say are in these things again?”

“Fava beans,” Cadance answers, sipping on her Chianti.

“And that there is alcohol, right?”

“Yes.”

The small table in the kitchenette we occupy seems to have grown smaller with the addition of Applejack. The cowpony doesn’t mind much, feeling all the more comfortable in the small space and homely design. I like to think that it is because she enjoys the short space between she and I. From time to time, I feel her hooves caress mine under the table; not in a manner that hints perversion but, rather, a touch to assure herself that I am still by her side.

“Is that okay,” Applejack asks Cadance, “ah mean, so early in the morning?”

“A little red wine in the morning is fine.” She takes another sip. “It makes the rest of the day feel easier to handle. Would you like some?”

“Ah’m good.” Applejack finishes her sandwich in two bites, clearing everything down with a glass of water. “Ah’ve been wantin’ to cut my drinkin’ for a while now.”

“How about you, Rarity?” Cadance asks, playfully swinging the bottle as though teasing me with it. “It’s newly opened.”

“Oh, I’m fine.” I drink from my own cup. “The tea is uh… very good.”

“Are you okay, dear?” she asks, placing down the bottle. “You’re not one to refuse red wine, especially not a Chianti. Want me to open a bottle of Bordeaux?”

“Heavens, no!” I say with a laugh. “That’s unnecessary. I’m fine, really.”

“I don’t think so. You seem a little…flustered. Did something happen last night?”

Applejack and I unconsciously look at one another. I could see her blush reflect my own. We turn away from each other, towards opposite directions. Cadance assumes the first thing she can infer between two blushing ponies and jumps to the rightful conclusion.

“Oh my… Celestia,” she gasps, her pink cheeks turning as bright and vibrant as her wine. “You two–”

“Aha… Fine place ya got here,” Applejack blurts out in a desperate attempt to derail the conversation, frantically looking around the kitchenette. “Yup. Fine place. Very small but very cozy and uh…”

“You two! Together?” Cadance proceeds underailed, “I am so gonna open a Cabernet for this.”

Cadence moves to the lower cabinet behind the table and takes out a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. She pours herself a glass, downs it, and pours herself another.

“Tell me all about it,” she giggles, shuffling her chair closer.

I look at Applejack and she looks at me, as though we are both waiting for the other’s permission to indulge Cadance’s mistaken curiosity. She shrugs.

“Wait, first things first.” She waves a hoof. “Last night you two... did it?”

If etiquette does not compose the majority of my subconscious, I would have choked on my tea and spurted the liquid to the table. I take a long sip, trying to cover my blushing face with the teacup. Both mares in the table notices the gesture.

“Yeah... but... We aren’t exactly… together,” Applejack explains. I feel her hoof under the table hold mine. “Not yet, at least.”

“But you’re going there, right? Right?”

“Ah guess so,” Applejack says and looks at me, “Ah mean... ah want to.”

Cadance makes a triumphant and happy laugh. “...And after all those things Rarity said, about the scandal of it all.”

“Uhh… scandal?” Applejack cocks her eyebrow.

“Cadance, please,” I say before Cadance could explain, “I’m not at all comfortable with this conversation.”

“Oh... Where are my manners, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, I’m just still in a state of disarray.” I place my hoof on top of Applejack’s. “I know what Applejack feels for me but I–at the moment–I can’t say I feel the same.”

Applejack holds my hoof and nods. She understands, or, at least, hopes to.

Cadance shrugs. “Though I know it isn’t wrong, I guess I was too early in my assumption.” She holds her glass up and downs the drink. She wipes her lips and smiles. “But I can’t say it was too early for that.”

Cadance places the bottle on the top shelf, alongside other opened wines.

“But Rarity, permit me to advise this, as a friend,” Cadance follows. “Don’t let those high society snobs cloud your judgment.”

“Whatever do you mean, darling?” I manage to say. I did not know what infuriates me more: that she addressed my entourage as snobs, or that she persists on this conversation, or that she assumes I need her advice. I would have upturned this table and walked out, knowing I have no more reason to pretend I do not hate her; but it is the sight of Applejack, smiling and gentle Applejack, that helps me maintain my demeanor.

“If you do not mind me saying so,” Cadance continues, “I believe that the reason you are, as you have pointed out, confused about your feelings for Applejack is because you are worried what the those fancy ponies would think of you.”

Cadance speaks of the elite as though there is a small bad aftertaste left after she had gone home from the party.

Applejack looks at me, as though she’s waiting for me to deny it. I do not answer. My thought’s are elsewhere. Silence spreads over our table and it is Applejack’s resilience that finally breaks it.

“Ah for one don’t care what they think,” Applejack says. “Ah love Rarity. And ah won’t let any Canterlot ponies get in mah way.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Cadance says to her, lifting her glass.

Applejack grabs the bottle of Chianti and fills her own glass, sharing a toast with Cadance. They finish their drinks in one gulp and look to one another, then their eyes shift to the silent spectator.

“Ah swear on our princess of love,” Applejack says, grabbing me by the hip and pulling our bodies close. “That you’ll be head over heels for me by the time yer head clears up.”

A furious blush rises to my face.

“My, my. What a blunt statement,” Cadance says, eagerly watching us.

“It’s blunt cuz it’s honest,” Applejack replies to her, then to me. “Ah love you, Rare. You better get yerself used to it cuz ah won’t get tired of sayin’ it.”

“I… I know,” is all I can say.

I know how much Applejack wants to kiss me, it is written in her eyes, but politeness, perhaps, got in the way for once. And it opened the way for me. I lean forward and give her a small, quick kiss on the lips.

Cadance squeals and almost jumps in her seat. I try to ignore her.

“Love is in the air once again,” Cadance says. “First Fancypants and Ms. Fleur, now Rarity and Applejack. Perhaps we should get together some other time.”

“Ah’d like that,” Applejack says before I could decline, “specially that Fancypants. Very genteel, that stallion... But speakin’ of gettin’ together,” Applejack surveys the room, “where’s Shining Armor?”

And there, the feeling of being submerged in ice cold water; my whole body freezes and my eyes go wide. I have to cast my eyes onto the floor lest my two companions see my expression.

“He’s on duty, as always,” I hear Cadance say. “He won’t be back until tomorrow morning.”

“Ah still need to thank that fella,” Applejack responds.

“Why so?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell ya? Well, he came knockin’ on mah door last night. Ah think it was past midnight then and ah wouldn’t know what business anypony would be doing at that hour. Then he told me that he saw Rarity cryin’ her eyes out.”

Even without looking, I could feel the weight of their stares on my shoulders.

“He said that it’s ungentlecolt of him to enter a lady’s chambers,”Applejack continues. “So he called me instead and told me to go to where Rarity was.”

“So that’s where he was last night.” Cadance clicks her tongue. “I kept asking him where he’d been but he wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“Ah reckon he doesn’t want ya all worryin’. Ah mean, if he told ya what was happenin’ then ya would’ve rushed to Rarity all the same.”

“Of course I would have.”

“Mighty thoughtful of him to care for a friend like that.” Applejack pauses for a moment, and I feel her foreleg around me. “Now that ah mention it, ya never told me why you were bawlin’ last night.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Cadance asks.

“I was…” I mutter. “I was…”

The echoes of my memories fill the silence.

…Let there be no mask between us. I want you in my bed, or I in yours.

…Make me feel what Cadance felt when you bedded her on your first night.

…For the love of Celestia, Shining Armor! In hate or in pity, in lust or in anger, take me! Take me now!

“I was… criticized,” I answer. “I heard somepony gossip that I make the worst dresses in Equestria, that my clothes are just a copy of… of others and that selling them was highway robbery.”

I can no longer hear what followed from the rest of the conversation. Applejack was saying something about how untrue that statement was, that I have proven myself time and time again to be the greatest craftsmare in Equestria and I have the Element of Generosity to speak for the latter. Cadance was saying something about how I should stop listening to petty rumors. She says that she hears gossips about herself too, about how conceited and vain they said she was, and that she’s chosen to ignore it.

“Ya sure ah can’t convince ya to come?”

“Can’t I convince you to stay?”

Applejack looks around and mumbles something.

The train’s engine rumbles to life. The ear piercing horn of the locomotive escapes the combustion. It does not have that playful choo-choo euphemism taught to kindergarteners. The sound is more akin to the whistle of an excited dragon rearing its head.

“All aboard!” the conductor yells.

“Hop on or the train’s going leave you,” I say to Applejack, trying to make her decision easier, but my hoof still holds on to hers adding confusion to the both of us. It seems impossible to let go even though we would only be apart for a day or so.

“Ah know, ah know.” She looks at the train, then back to me. “Ah just don’t want to make ya feel that ah bailed out on ya after last night.”

“You won’t,” I assure her.

“Ah love ya to bits and all, but the farm! And Big Mac! If we lose the harvest today…”

“You. Won’t.”

The conductor inspecting the train passes us and notices Applejack, saddles on and with her legs on the train with the other pair still glued on the platform

“Coming, ma’am?” the conductor asks to her.

“Gimme a minute!” Applejack snaps.

“Train doesn’t have a minute.”

“A few seconds then.”

The conductor glints his eyes and walks away towards the driver, shouting: “Hey Steampunk, give it a few seconds! We have one of those long cheesy farewells again!”

“Consarn it,” Applejack mutters.

“This certainly isn’t one of those long cheesy goodbyes,” I say. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“When’s that?”

“Tomorrow evening.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“But,” Applejack looks around and fidgets in place, “what do ah tell the others till then?”

“Tell them about what?”

“I don’t know; you, me, everything! Twilight’s gonna be askin’ where ya are, Rainbow’s gonna figures somethin’ up and what if Pinkie has some twitchin’ for this sort of thing–dear Celestia– then cat’s outta the bag.”

“You…” I clear my throat and hide the blush that glows on my face with my hoof, “I’ll go with whatever you want. You tell them whatever you wish.”

“Even… uh… last night?”

“J-Just… spare them the details.”

“Right. Details, gotta skip’em.”

Unable to wait a second longer, the locomotive churns and the wheels turn. Applejack feels the vibration and finally decides hop in. The long metallic vehicle begins its acceleration.

“Ah love ya!” she shouts from the steps.

“I...” and yet, here I am, unable to return the word. “Thank you.”

I make a slight wave and turn away. I could have sworn I could have given her a more dramatic farewell–perhaps wave a pink handkerchief?–but, somehow, I prefer the privacy of not having making the scene more sentimental than need be, that what Applejack and I have is too private to be publicly showcased for the nearby onlookers.

How long could it be? We would meet again in two days at most.

The sound of trottin increases until it is suddenly behind me. I turn, and to my surprise I see Applejack there. With speed to match a Wonderbolt, she reaches me in time to match my surprise with her kiss. The shock paralyzes me, and topped with her rushing speed I feel her forceful lips against mine. I feel I am in the furthest receiving end of a kiss in the impact of her body.

She draws back and smiles happily. Then she runs back and jumps in time to hop on the last railcar of the train, all the while shouting “yeehaw” at the top of her lungs.

I glance around, there are some Canterlot ponies giggling in my direction. They are not the elite, of course, but those who take delight in the embarrassment of commoners to pass off as one.

But to my surprise, I find myself neither embarrassed nor ashamed. The mark that glows my face to a fruity red is not to be seen as some foolish crush, but the proof of some devotion to a special pony. The social mask that I have worn all my time in Canterlot seems obviously fake. I hold my head up, with no shame that the scene with Applejack and I is as romantic as it appeared.

Romance.

The word stops me in the middle of the Canterlot street.

Do I love Applejack?

The thought makes me smile. I turn around, the train station is far into the distance and the train is farther still. I become increasingly aware of the distance between us and I realize that I have all my youth–all my vigor and energy–to chase and run after that damn train all the way to Ponyville just to be with her again. But I wouldn’t, of course, because I’m a lady and because it’s not me–but Applejack!–she’d run the distance into my welcoming embrace. Because we both know, somehow, that the next time we’ll meet I’ll tell her how much I want to be by her side.

I know it is my excited emotions overtaking me, but what I wouldn’t give for the train to break down and give us an excuse to return to our suite and spend some time getting to know one another, perhaps kiss twice or thrice or several more times.

The smile on my face molds itself into a grin, the kind that can’t be wiped off. I wear it, often time with a squeal to go, as I make my way back to my suite, my imagination running wild and blocking my sense of sight and sound. The prospect of living a life with Applejack fills my consciousness:

I will spend the rest of my life with her, the mare who will love me more than anypony and anything else in this world. As Fancypants had said, there is a rustic charm to it, to be a maiden of a regular farm mare in the far countryside, but to maintain one’s sophistication despite so. The image of Applejack bucking trees in the heat of the sun, sweat glistening the burnt sienna, fills my imagination. A powerful gust of wind will lift the hat from her head and send it to my feet; and I’ll fetch it back to her with a kiss. I would be there to tell her to take a moment’s break when she’s tired, but she’ll still continue to work on regardless, and her stubbornness will only make it more difficult for me to make her sit down and enjoy the picnic–yes, a picnic, because we are having a picnic there–and the afternoon critters as I listen to her talk about this year’s bountiful apple harvest . When the day is over and Celestia’s sun is setting down into the orange horizon, she’ll lay her head on my lap and listen to me talk about how lucky I am for being a part of her life.

The chain of thoughts follows me back to my suite. I find myself immediately wishing I could get Sapphire Shore’s commission over with just so I could return to Sweet Apple Acres.

If I machine-stitch all three pairs, I could make it back to Ponyville by this evening…

The end quality would be better than a professional hoofstitch, but Sapphire Shore’s policy that all dresses should not be machine stitched is grounded only on the basis of ‘authenticity’ or ‘application of craftsmareship’ or something like that.

I levitate the machine and materials to me, deciding to use the machine for the fells and a hoofstitch for the exposed seams. Surely, Sapphire Shores won’t mind the slight variation. If I am fast enough I would be able to catch the last train to Ponyville.

...and then what?

In the early night when the Apple family sleeps, I’ll stand beneath beside her house and throw gemstones at her window. She’ll wake up and I’ll see that riled expression slowly turn to surprise and joy. I’ll hear her trot down the house and burst out of a door. She’ll reach me in seconds, kiss me deeply, and whisper something in my ear that would make me flush and giggle. Without waiting for my permission, she’ll lead me–no!–she’ll carry me to the barn. There she’ll push me down on the haystacks and–

“Ouch!” I yelp, the needle pricking my hoof.

I see the needle through the fabrics, whereas the thread is not even attached to it. I shake my head.

Concentrate. Concentrate.

I levitate the tail of the thread and carefully aim it towards the eye of the needle. I am almost able to slip it in when a loud clamoring on my door robs my attention.

Oh, for heaven’s sake.

I throw the needle and the thread away and march to the door.

“Who is it!?” I say, more irritated than curiosity.

My horn flashes and I yank the door open.

I freeze in place.

Shining Armor!

He stands as a true testament to his profession, with the unrelenting and untouched flexibility of ruthlessness and honor. His face is as solid as the armor he wears, shown in his sunken cheeks and chiseled jaw line. Only the pulsing vein on his neck shows that this form is not a thing of marble, but a living breathing stallion. He enters, slamming the doors close with a kick and locking it with a blaze of his horn. He looks and stares me down with flaring eyes.

But only when he walks to me that I become aware of the diminished space between us. I try to say something. No words comes out. The air of the room thins, and I can smell my own fear, the fear of a cornered animal before a looming threat. I take a step back for every step of his, until I am stopped by the cold furniture of a vanity table.

The sound of the chair crashing against the tiles resounds across the room–and it shares the same incitement of a judge’s gavel.

Shining Armor jumps on me, his mouth forcing its way onto mine. My head draws back and he pushes in further. I feel the pain in my lips, the bone of his forelegs against the bone of my ribs, the toned muscles he uses to subvert me. He takes me by the flank, lifts me as he pushes forward. His hoof smashes against the mirrors behind and the sound of breaking glass echoes with the tinkle of infinitesimal shards.

I try to squirm away, twisting out of his immoveable limbs. My body has never felt more fragile and pliable, bending and flexing submissively to the force of his touch. He presses further and my lips take the shape of his brutal maw. I struggle to resist against subjugation. I turn away, just even to breathe but he grabs me by my mane and pulls me in harder, his rough tongue invading and exploring my mouth.

A different sense of euphoria overcomes me, one I have never felt before: a delicious state of helplessness to pleasance. As though I am a sin worth indulgment, to be conquered and put in place.

And I will not give it to him so easily.

I do not know whether to moan in pleasure or cry in pain; I know both came from the same source and I know that neither makes a difference; both are one and the same. I can shout for help, and no doubt help would come, but I would not do so–not for anything he could not give me. My silence is my proof, and his invitation. And we both know it.

I fight as though I fight for dear life. No beast or monster could put me in such a state of rabid ferocity; I do it to push him away, and to force himself on me all the more. I tug at him, kicking whenever I get the chance, flaring my forelegs about. I grab the lampshade on the drawer. He knocks the lampshade from me. I break free from his hold. He grabs my chest from behind and secures me in his hooves. My hoof connects against his face and I know, by the look in his eyes, that I have hurt him and that he knows I like it. He draws back and I feel his teeth press against the soft flesh of my neck. He could rip or bite through the skin if he so wanted.

Still in his hold he lifts me up and throws me onto the bed. I turn from him and crawl away. His hooves grab my hind legs and he drags me to him with savage brutality, like a colt pulling a ragdoll or a tiger reeling in its prey. He grabs me by the shoulders and turns me to my back, forcing me to face him. He undoes his armor and clumsily tosses it off, leaving him only with his tasset and baldric. He sees my eyes crawl all over him, from the armor below his waist to the ascetic ruthlessness of his visage, and I accidentally lick my lips. He firmly places his hooves on the bed, only inches away from my shoulder.

Then there is a moment of stillness. Even my heart, which beats against my chest like a war drum, stiffens to make room for the air in my lungs. I feel the chilling metal plate against my thighs; the last piece of armor that would expose all him, completely him, for myself to witness. I look up to him, his eyes fixed on mine.

Then I feel trepidation beyond lust and guilt, the feeling of dread that he, Shining Armor, would ask for my permission. That my sanction is the only thing that holds him back and that he does it knowingly–

Dear Celestia, just do it! Don’t ask me–just do it!

–to cast caution to the wind and end the façade, to have me beg for him, as he knew I would and knows I will.

But then he smiles lightly out of the corner of his lips, the only smile he could permit himself, as though he understands everything all too well. My heart melts under his smile, the first touch of tenderness, and my body releases all forms of binds from doubt.

He brushes strands of mane from my face. He pecks my neck with darted kisses, quick light taps that come and go.

My hoof traces along the outline of his broad shoulders and I pull him closer.

He nuzzles my neck and makes his way to my bosom and my stomach. His hooves caress the tender curves of my back and hips. He lifts me up and places me down comfortably on the bed.

I lay there waiting for him. He fixes the sheets over us and the pillow under my head. I lean back and open all of myself for all of him. He takes off his last piece of armor and settles it down the bedside. Satisfied, he levitates the cover over us as he positions himself over me.

My eyes go wide as I stare longingly on his pride. The sheer size of which brought up the three natural fears from threat: the fear of the unknown, the fear of immediate sensation, and fear of danger to one’s life. It is impossible to imagine how painful it will be, but there is no doubt that it will. The length alone would reach past my navel.

It is too late to realize that I cannot stop a trembling on my shoulder. Shining Armor notices and he places his hoof on my own, reassuring me with his gentleness. He knows, from the way I hold on to him, that this is my first time. He leans forward and kisses my cheek as his other hoof crawls down to the base of my nether.

Whereas his forceful kisses and embrace carries with it the warmth of passion, the first contact of him on my marehood sends a sudden jolt of electricity throughout my body. The currents coursing through my veins awaken me. My back arcs and I utter a moan. His astonishment for my reaction begets him a laugh–a laughter that has neither sound nor expression, not meant to be heard or to be seen, but to be felt. He knew that this reaction is my achievement– the first sound of my moan is the first proof of what has been so-far unnamed and what will soon follow.

He pauses and watches me gather myself together. I take a moment to breathe, feeling once again the movement of my lungs. Sweat drips down from every pore of my skin, all from his single touch.

He reaches for me again after another moment. His hoof strokes my marehood carefully, lovingly, and endearingly. The light touch returns the vibe of my nerves and it makes me convulse. My hind legs jerk each time he presses, a shiver crawls along my spine as he traces up my crevice. The movement of his hoof hastens and with it the pace of my breathing. I shut my eyes close. My heavy panting desperately tries to match the unsteady intervals of his rhythms. I feel a gradual accumulation within my loins, as though pleasure has taken its form in the physical realm and gathers to my innermost sanctum, for every churn and circular motion by Shining Armor intensifies the pleasure as he concentrates further. He touches my cheek with his other hoof, beckoning me to at stare him in the eye as I reach the apex of my lusts. He wants to bear witness to what kind of face I would show him as he makes me submit under the mercy of his touch. I beg him with my eyes not to look at me. I try to tear my vision away, but he grabs me still. I feel it welling up inside me– I can feel nothing else, every muscle fiber and nerve focuses in on the pressure. Finally, my body cannot hold it in any longer. The long buried desire, finally awake, seeks an exit. I gasp in the sudden burst of release flowing out of me. Shining Armor watches intensely with amusement, his smirk almost mocking, how I palpitate and spasm and shudder and shake and tremble. The moisture sullies him and the mattress. He takes his hoof from me and smiles.

He takes his time, patiently waiting for the waves of my pleasures to subside.

I take long greedy gasps for air. I wrap my hooves around his neck, inviting him to take me; I cannot wait as I know from his hungry eyes that he cannot either. I stare at him, begging as I did the night before, drowning in my own well of frenzied lust. Whatever fear I feel becomes irrelevant and immaterial. I cannot care for it, to even spare a thought. My whole body screams for him, every strand of hair on my coat on its edge.

He nods and prods the tip of his member against my delicate entrance. He can already feel my trembling as he wraps his forelegs around my shoulder. I clear my throat. I hold my breath. I brace my mind.

He moves forward.

The first few inches introduce the pain that is to follow. My folds resist him, but he gently makes his way inside me. I bite my lip and turn my face away from him. My entire breathing is turned off as he continues his entry. The motion slows the further he slides in, until he halts completely. The pain amplifies all over inside my nether. I could count every muscle with every stinging and electrifying sensation. I buck my legs and I shut my eyes. But I would not, for anything in the world, let him stop. He sees me throwing about and he fondles my cheeks. His hooves take ahold of me and, in one powerful singular motion, thrusts forward, driving as much of his length as possible inside. Something in my mind snaps.

As I scream, he acts fast to grab me and press his lips on mine, a long deep kiss that is the anesthetic to the splitting excruciation in my loins. He bites my lower lips with careful tenderness, running his mouth along the nerves of my neck. Still I struggle, still I am hurt, but the kiss makes it all easier to bear. I try concentrating on his kisses, focusing all my attention on the sweet taste of his lips, as he waits patiently inside me.

My consciousness is lost. I remain in a half-daze stupor where my world is nothing but him. That there is nothing else to think, to see and to feel than him: the shape of his steel frame, the texture of his coat, the softness of his mouth, the tempered rod throbbing within me.

He starts moving, drawing back slightly. I feel an instance of fear as I think he will exit entirely, until he moves forward once more. My heart comes to life as he thrusts forward, blasting with a percussive beat against my chest that is almost painful. He moves again, back and forth, my heart thumping in rhythm with each thrust. His pace gradually increases in steadying motions, still careful and still delicate of my fragility.

My mind goes blank, lost in the rapture of flames burning me from within. The flames kindled from the friction of flesh against flesh, fueled by passion and controlled in his embrace. My consciousness dwindles and flickers, prancing back and forth between the world in my womb and the world around us. The pain subsides and the moans locked in my throat finally escpae, filling the air in the room. Something inside me unlocks at the same same instant, as though the gates of ecstasy swing open and out pours the imprisoned wanton that has long been buried and denied. I want Shining Armor. I want all of him! Insatiable is an understatement, taste is too subtle and lust is too tame. I want to seal the moment, and lock the ever increasing height of exaltation to where the erotic reigns supreme. I want the thrust of my pain and his pleasure to last forever.

I grab on to him as tight as I can, not letting go. Shining Armor shuts his eyes and groans. He presses the length of his body over mine as his hips push deeper. I moan in his ear and his body responds with a shudder. The sweet smell of his cologne mixing with his sweat fills my nostrils; and the beautiful beautiful ceiling fills my eyes.

Our bodies lock in an embrace as he moves. Every hair on his coat brushes the moisture of my body against his. Each lunge carries me farther— far beyond than the carnal appetites of the hedonist, farther than the bounds that reason knows, and farther still!–to that state where one’s awareness is not of the mind, but exclusive to the world of hungry emotions.

I bite down on his shoulder. The heat of our body radiates as though we are aflame. His thrusts grow faster, harder, and deeper than the last until–!

Shining Armor pours himself into me, searing and alive like the still-boiling mercury from a furnace, blistering liquid fires of passion.

I shudder, spasming, reaching my own apex –immobile, unmoved, shaking in place within his embrace. I feel wave after wave of his warmth filling me.

Shining Armor groans as he nuzzles my neck. He tenderly kisses my lips.

I lie still on the bed, over the blanket, over the covers if that’s at all possible. My body feels all too pure and sacred to be touched by anything else. I lean forward, on Shining Armor’s extended limb, shuffling myself closer to him.

How long have we been doing it?

The question seems irrelevant even now. Time has ceased its monotonous tick. The sun is gone and the night has taken its place among the sky.

Moonlight enters, and so does its stars. The lightless room glows with the gentle luminance of the night, the pale-blue, pale-white glimmer that shrouds the smallest and simplest of furniture–from the windowsill to the bedsheets, the dressers to the shards of glass–with the orphic veil of the mysterious.

Even Shining Armor, bathed in moonlight, glints like his namesake. I press my face deeper into his ribs to gain as much physical contact with him as possible, lying on the soft cushions of his limb. The sweat of our still-moist bodies tingle together. I do not mind it. I trace my hoof along the lines of his broad chest as I give light taps of my lips to any part of him my muzzle can reach. He churns and mumbles something in his sleep. I watch, in quiet amazement, the slow motions of the steady rise and fall of his chest.

The sensations return: the small ache in my muscles, the pressure against my lips, the heat and delectable pain between my legs; all amplified by delicious exhaustion. Even my incorporeal soul, if such a thing exists, lies weary from having climbed the rites of passage.

But, ascending the ladders of maturity and past the gates of chastity, the reward within the temple of the feminine is not so immaculate; not when I who reaches for the treasure, pride, with hoofs sullied with guilt. The contained self-worth which every mare ought to find and hold for her stallion, that which plumes each other’s body for one’s pleasure, one’s enjoyment, and one’s happiness, is corrupted by the touch of adultery.

A single tear streams down my cheeks. Our guilt will choose to destroy us, I know. The omen shares the afterglow of elated bliss, like the seething aftertaste of poison deliciously indulged. As he wakes, seeing me on his bedside in place of his wife, the slithering memories will coil around his heart and envenom his conscience.

I cannot bear it.

I wrap my hooves around him in a tight embrace, pushing my body towards him as close as possible. I bite my lips, holding on to the groans and cries that threaten to escape. But I cannot hold it in for long. Like a dam unable to control its waters, the floodgate of my heart opens and pain flows out in pitiful sobs.

What made you do it? For all your chivalry and honor, what made you commit yourself to me?

Was it lust? The temptation to succumb to the excitement of another flesh, and eternally leave one’s mark on it? The appetite for a young untouched vestal? Yours for the taking, to do anything you wish. To be used, spent and thrown away until the next craving. To hunger for a mare’s chastity, to seized it as the spoils of conquest.

Was it anger? Knowing that I am the justified object of hatred? That I, having betrayed your wife and urging you to do the same, am punished with the rod, to be despoiled and begrimed of the innocence of my body. Where each thrust is a blow fueled by vengeance and justice against the seducer. To deject me, to put me in place, to force me into a state of submission and humiliate me thus.

Or, Celestia forbid, was it love?

How have I dreamt of it, my first night, from long ago: in a bride’s dress the night after my wedding, with commending smiles from friends and families, with flowers and sweet whispers? Not like this. Not behind sealed doors and shrouded by shut curtains, in broken glass and in the silence of the wordless conspirator, to be hidden from reality as an unpardonable sin.

I look at him, the face of the irreproachable found only in the innocence of slumber, knowing that this is the last time I will share him in bed. Knowing that I will never see him again like this. Knowing that, as the first rays of the sun touch his eyes, I will find him vanished from my bed as I wake, along with all my fantasies and daydreams.

But for tonight! But at least tonight!

I lean forward and kiss him on his lips. Then I break the seal of our silence with the first, and last, words spoken:

“I love you.”

The train back to Ponyville runs smoother past the caverns. The sun returns to fill the car and it becomes easier to redesign those dresses that Sapphire Shores commissioned.

It is convenient to have grown in the social pyramid since Fleur’s and Fancypants engagement party. In doing so, I have become a powerful enemy to make. Even Sapphire Shores, for all her popularity and position, would not dare risk incurring my displeasure by cancelling her order simply because of my tardiness. But that is exaggerating the matter. Before I set foot on the train, I sent a letter of apology to her, a mere convenience to make my carte blanche less obvious. I sent the dresses the night after and, with it, several more designs to compensate. She liked it so much that she asked me to redesign some to match the others for her second show in spring.

From the distance I can already make out the shapes of Ponyville’s buildings of cottages and cabins beyond the prairie while telephone poles race past my window. I absentmindedly levitate my pens and parchment of caricatures before leaning back against my seat, letting my head fall in a position where not even the modesty of sitting upright is given much effort. I close my eyes, wishing for a sleep that won’t come, wishing to keep riding the train away from the responsibility of thinking and being able to think.

I place my hoof just over my loin where the imaginary warmth still lingers. It is as though I can still feel him inside me, hard and throbbing. It has been two days since then, two days since awakening to an empty bed. Shining Armor had gone, as I predicted. The hours and minutes of the days that followed passed by without the slightest acknowledgement. I designed and stitched dresses, rejected invitations from Cadance and friends, spent lonely night lying restless and awake on a cold bed; all the while waiting, hoping, seeking Shining Armor’s shadow beneath the doorsill.

But he never came.

Perhaps this is all for the best? I remember thinking. The one night I had so begged from him, granted, never to be spoken of again. One night where Canterlot was ours and I was his princess and bride, and then stolen away at the first break of sunlight.

“Ponyville!” the conductor shouts as he goes to each car. “Station stop: Ponyville. Population: one thousand three-hundred and four.”

I replace my summer hat on my head and levitate the half-empty bottle of pills back into my luggage. Even before the train comes to a complete halt, thinning the odorless steam, I can already smell the meadows and greensward found only in the countryside.

As I exit the train, I am welcomed with Ponyville’s premier party pony and her namesake. A blast of confetti slams into my face, topped with the honk of a loud horn and an unnecessarily loud “Surprise”.

I stumble back, falling on my derriere.

“P-Pinkie!”

“Welcome to your Welcome Back Party!” Pinkie Pie yells at the top of her lungs.

With what senses available following a mini heart attack, I see Fluttershy and Twilight Sparkle behind the balloons and streamers.

“Hey, Rarity?” Twilight says, with a smile.

Fluttershy approaches me, helps me to my feet and offers to carry my luggage.

“My goodness!” I exclaim. “Have I been gone that long? What did I miss?”

“Oh, it’s us who didn’t miss anything.” Twilight gives a knowing look and a wink to follow.

For the love of Celestia! Shining Armor could not have disclosed our affair to her own sister!

“W-Whatever do you mean, darling?” I stutter.

“You don’t have to hide anything?” Fluttershy replies. “The whole town knows.”

“What!” I shout. Fluttershy recoils back.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says, hiding behind her bangs. “It’s just that word slipped out and...”

“Oh, no, no, no. This can’t happen.” I say, stumbling for words. “If the rumors reach Canterlot...”

“I see nothing wrong with it, really,” Twilight says. “I mean, I never expected you two together, of all ponies, but I guess that’s how love works. In fact, I’m quite happy for you two.”

“You... you are?” I struggle on two things: observing Twilight Sparkle, and hiding my observation. I try to see if Twilight’s good nature is a façade or genuine, whether she will cast a spell to send me to oblivion or extend her foreleg in a hoofshake.

“Of course!” She claps her hoof together. “Though your relationship isn’t official yet, is it?”

“Of course not. After all–”

“Well, Applejack is bragging about how’ll get you.”

“Applejack?”

The name echoes in my head and I am reminded of the forgotten cowpony. The whole conversation replays and pieces itself together. I am able to breathe again; and laugh to the bewilderment of Fluttershy and Twilight. The two mares look at one another as though I have gone mad.

“Of course, dear Applejack!” I laugh.

“Who else could it be?” Pinkie Pie says suddenly, hopping on the spot. “I mean, it’s not like you’re smooching any other ponies.”

My laughter shuts off suddenly, without the momentum of dying out. I look at the pink pony.

She is not possibly referring to... Of course not. She’s just being Pinkie Pie.

As I turn to Twilight and Fluttershy, my head snaps back to the innocent smiling party pony.

I mean... she is just being Pinkie Pie?

She notices me looking at her and her hopping stops. “Yes, Rarity?” she asks, eyelashes fluttering.

“Yes,” I say, clearing my throat, “now, where’s the dear?”

“She’s in Sugar Cube Corner with Rainbow Dash,” Twilight says. “She doesn’t know you’re here.”

“And you know what that calls for.” Pinkie excitedly hops over to Fluttershy.

Despite my best efforts, I go with them to Sugar Cube Corner to surprise Applejack of my return. I try to tell them that I need rest after my trip, but Pinkie Pie’s constant blabbering does not open an opportunity to speak. In truth, I want to see Applejack, but, for now, I do not want her to see me. By the time we reach Sugar Cube Corner, it was too late. From beyond the door of the building I can already hear the country accent, and I am reeled to to see its source.

“Ah’m tellin’ ya, Rainbow. What if somethin’ happened to her? What if she’s been in an accident? What if she got ponynapped, or worse!”

“Keep your hat on,” the raspy voice of Rainbow Dash snaps. “The worst thing that could have happened is that she chipped a hoof.”

“That’s it, ah’m hoppin’ on the next train to Canterlot!”

“Hey, wait!”

There is the sound of trotting coming towards the door. Pinkie Pie slips behind me and, without warning, pushes me in.

“Wha–?”

I stumble forward, bursting in, right into the embrace, and lips, of Applejack. With our bodies crashing together we fall to the floor.

“What in the hay–” Applejack’s voice is cut off as she flips the hat from her eyes, giving herself an eyeful of me.

“Uhh... surprise?” I say, with a tilt of my head.

She stares at me for a long time, still in disbelief at me being here. Then, as though to prove to herself that I am no illusion brought by some premature separation anxiety, she pulls me close and kisses me. I gave her the proof when I kiss her back.

“Nice...” I hear somepony say.

I pull away and see Rainbow Dash looking at us with a huge grin plastered on her face. Our other friends enter in time to see me on top of Applejack. Fluttershy immediately covers her eyes, Twilight blushes and Pinkie Pie still hops in place as though nothing is wrong.

“Applejack wasn’t kidding when she said you two can make out,” Rainbow Dash says with a giggle.

“Ah never said that!” Applejack snaps at the cerulean pegasus.

Rainbow Dash just flies off into the kitchen without the snide remark I expected from her.

“Ah never said that,” Applejack says to me. “Honest.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” I say, kissing her again.

A shroud of magic envelops Applejack and I, sliding us from one another.

“Alright, alright.” Twilight says, her horn glowing. “As much as I want to see you two friendly again, I find it awkward to see you too friendly, too often and too public.”

Applejack and I make a sly giggle and turn away from one another.

“Is it over?” whimpered Fluttershy, peeking from behind her hooves.

“It can’t be over yet!” Pinkie says, whipping out her party cannon seemingly from thin air. “Cuz Rarity’s and Applejack’s party is just getting started!”

“What party?” Applejack asks, equally oblivious.

The answer came from the party cannon. Streamers, balloons and a banner with the word “RARIJACK” fill the barn. A second Pinkie Pie–what?–enters from the kitchen , dragging a heart-shaped cake with an icing that looks like ruby in the shape of an apple. Fluttershy turns on the phonograph, and polka fills the room.

Applejack tilts her head. “What in tarnation is ‘Rarijack’ supposed to –Oh!”

The party is typical Ponyville, like the hundreds of parties Pinkie Pie hosts every week of every month. There are candies and cupcakes for appetizers, and a cake for the main course. Soda pop and bottled apple juice line up on the tables, of every color and flavor conceivable. The hot-topic of conversation is, no doubt, the relationship between Applejack and I.

“You should’ve seen Jacqueline,” I say to Twilight and Pinkie Pie. “She was the star of the ball, Canterlot stallions were throwing themselves under her feet.”

“I hope she didn’t step on them,” Pinkie Pie says with a worried expression. “That sounds like it’d hurt.”

“Gee, this ‘Jacqueline’ must really be somepony.” Twilight winks to Applejack and laughs.

“Consarn it, Rare,” Applejack groans. “You promised you wouldn’t call me that again.”

“Sorry darling, I couldn’t help it.”

Applejack says something on how I should mingle with the others for a moment since they all have eager questions to ask me. That, and the fact that she’ll have me all to herself later.

“Thank you again for taking good care of Opalescence during my absence. I hope that cat wasn’t too much trouble.”

“Oh no, no, no,” Fluttershy says. “It was my pleasure.”

“To show my gratitude, I’ll be treating you to our next get together in the spa.”

“That’s wonderful!” Fluttershy says. “But uh... Don’t you think Applejack will get... jealous?”

I turn my head to the side. Applejack is talking to Pinkie Pie while eating some cake. She sees me looking at her and smiles back.

“I hope she will,” I giggle. “I’d like to see that riled up look on her face. It’ll be adorable.”

Rainbow Dash suddenly appears beside me. “Mind if I borrow Rarity for a sec? Thanks.” Without waiting, she leads me away from the earshot of the other ponies.

“What is it?” I ask, grabbing a drink from the table.

“So you and Applejack were... together... at least once, right?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Canterlot suite. Night, alone,” Rainbow Dash enumerates, and it starts to dawn on me. She continues. “Lonely mares, raging hormones, doing stuff, rubbing your–”

“I get it! You don’t have to go into details. Don’t tell me Applejack spread that out too.”

“She didn’t. But Pinkie and I cornered her until she confessed.”

“She did?”

“More like lied about it,” she said with a shrug. “You know that scrunched up face she makes.”

Ah yes, the face that confesses the contrary.

“So what of it?” I ask, taking a sip of the juice.

“Right. My question is...” Rainbow Dash surveys our surroundings, making sure nopony can hear. She leans forward and whispers, “Does she really, you know, taste like apples?”

I suddenly becomes conscious of the flavor of my fruit juice in my mouth, reminding me of the taste of a different kind of juice altogether. In a jolt of panic I spurt out the liquid from my mouth into a nearby plant.

Rainbow Dash blows up with laughter and flutters off. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Spike isolates himself at the end of the table. He sits with back turned to us, shoulders down, his claw lazily playing with his plate of emeralds. I approach him and give the baby dragon a little pat on the shoulder.

“Oh, hey Rarity,” he says wearily. “So... you and Applejack, huh?”

“Not yet, though. I haven’t completely... answered her yet.”

“So does that mean I still have a–”A spark of hope lightens his eyes, but dies out just as fast. He sighs. “Nah. Who am I kidding? Ponies and dragons can’t really work out.”

“I’m so sorry, Spike.”

“It’s not your fault,” he says inspecting his claws. “It’s me being a dragon and all.”

“That’s not your fault either.”

“Guess not,” he sighs again. “You go be happy with Applejack now, mares like her is a keeper. And if she ever makes you cry tell me and I’ll... uh... do something, I guess.”

It’s so cute of him to pretend to be not hurt that I have to pamper him just so. “Whatever happens,” I take Spike in my hooves and cuddle him, “you’re still my little Spikey-wikey.”

Some time later, the seven of us, Spike included, drawn in by more stories of Applejack’s antics in the ball, form a circle in the middle of the shop. It is just us here, I realize, and the privacy of our group restricts no shortage of laughter when I tell them how Applejack reacted to the stallions trying to grab her attention.

“...and then Jacqueline lost it and told the colt ‘mares back in my place are a lot tougher than the stallions in these parts.’”

The sound of our laughter rings throughout. Even Spike returns from his sour mood.

“Well it’s true,” Applejack follows.

And then, I sense it as soon as everyone else did: as the laughter slowly dies down, Rainbow Dash keeps on her guffaw. It is a loud, almost-chortle, almost-cackle kind of laugh, deliberate and consciously fake. When she finally stops, she finds all six of us staring at her.

“Problem there, Rainbow?” Applejack asks, more threatening than curious.

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” the blue pegasus says, “I’m good.”

We resume our conversation, pretending nothing is wrong.

“What I can’t still get is the relationship between you two!” says Spike, in the tone of a question.

“Spike!” Twilight quickly reproaches his candid way of speaking.

I honestly did not think it was rude at all. Even as Spike said that, the others turn to me, hoping for an answer, as though the question is at the to tip of everypony’s lips and it is only courtesy that prevents them from asking.

“We ain’t marefriends,” Applejack says.

“But you said you made out like a lot of wild angry rabbits in mating season,” Rainbow Dash snickers.

“Ah never said that.”

“And you even had hot sweaty filly sex.”

“Ah didn’t say that one either.”

“So you’re denying you two had sex?”

“Well...” Applejack looks around to the eyes of her friends, “No. Just that part about it being hot and sweaty like.”

“How about the part of being filly?”

“What are ya–”

“Okay, let’s get back into the subject before Spike understands our conversation,” Twilight interrupts, sensing the increasing tone in the two ponies. She, too ,must have felt the sudden increasing tension as I have, knowing well enough how to evade the topic. “So, Applejack, as you were saying, if you two aren’t marefriends then what are you?”

“It’s fairly simple really,” the cowpony says, toning down her voice, “Ah love Rarity.”

All eyes turn to me, anticipating a response. “And I’m... I’m still...”

My voice trails off, unable to answer completely. Before the silence could overcome us, Applejack lays her hoof on my own. “S’all right,” she says. “Ah understand.”

“I don’t,” Rainbow Dash mutters. “Hey Rarity, I have a question: are you a stallion?”

“What!?” I gasp; the question came completely out of nowhere. “I beg your pardon.”

“Lay off!” Applejack snaps toward the blue pegasus.

“Guess not.” Rainbow Dash ignores the cowpony. “So if you’re a mare then you probably have some stallion parts with you, huh?”

“Shut it, Rainbow,” Applejack stands up, almost crashing her chair in the abrupt violent moment, “we’ve been through this.”

“Through what?” I ask, looking for an answer in the faces in the room.

Rainbow Dash takes to the air, ignoring Applejack and my question, yet still addressing me, “How else could Applejack want you, right? Right? Is it pure, heart-to-heart romance, love, or something like that? Probably, like that time she tried to rape you remember? Yup, complete platonic love. I mean, who wouldn’t want a piece of your completely platonic ass.”

Applejack almost flings the chair at Rainbow Dash, and would have if I had not held on to the cowpony’s hoof. Applejack’s body eases under my touch, but her eyes remains transfixed and hot with rage towards the blue pegasus.

“Ooh, I’m shaking.” Rainbow Dash mockingly throws her hooves in the air. “Hey relax, cowgirl, I’m just–”

“Just what?” Applejack barks.

“Just asking!”

“Listen here you rotten romp, next time ya speak to my mare like that again ah’m gonna bash yer head in, ya hear me! Now get the hell out of here while ah still let ya.”

Rainbow Dash snorts and folds her forelegs together. “RariJack? Pfft. What is that, anyway? This is a pretty dumb party.”

“Dumb... party?” Pinkie Pie repeats, her ears flopping down and her eyes tearing up.

“I mean–” Rainbow Dash almost apologizes to Pinkie Pie, but she immediately catches herself. “I’m outta here! Let’s go, Fluttershy.”

The singled out canary pegasus turns and seeks help from her friends, but she could find none from the eyes that stare at her from every direction.

“Fluttershy, let’s go!” Rainbow Dash repeats.

The canary pegasus turns and follows Rainbow Dash out. “Enjoy the rest of your party,” she says.

The five of us are left in the semicircle. The loud jubilant polka only weighs more on the heavy atmosphere that is the residue of exchanged yelling. I still hold on to Applejack, trying to help steady her breathing. Twilight says nothing, using her magic to fix the toppled chairs. Spike approaches and tries to comfort the crying Pinkie Pie.

I thought my weekly get-together with Fluttershy in the spa would take my mind off the ending of yesterday’s party. But looking at one of the principal elements of my curiosity, I am unable to do so.

Fluttershy and I do not breathe a word from one another. We make the subtlest eye contact and go on to our usual routine. We sit inside the steam room and allow the relaxing vapors open the pores of our bodies. There is more space between us than there usually is. Even Lotus takes notice of the silence, broken only by hissing vapor and the occasional cough.

After some time, Lotus withdraws to refill the bucket of water, leaving Fluttershy and I alone.

Knowing that Fluttershy will not in any way initiate the conversation, I take it upon myself to do so.

“Dear...” I say. “Applejack is not angry with you, and neither am I if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m just so sorry,” she answers, “I didn’t mean to leave the party like that... but Rainbow Dash called me and...”

“We don’t blame you, darling,” I say, rubbing my hooves together. “And I don’t blame Rainbow Dash, much to my own surprise. I just hope that I could say the same for Applejack.”

“How is she?”

“Just a little cross,” I confess. “I dare not tell of our get together lest I incite more than cute little jealousy.”

“Rainbow Dash is also...” she starts, and looses the rest of the sentence in a mumble.

“She did not receive it well, I take?”

Fluttershy only nods, but then shakes her head. “She’s just hot-headed that’s all.”

I notice how the canary pegasus shies away at the mention of Rainbow Dash, and immediately I suspect the only thing I could.

“Still, it was very friendly of her to single you out during her exit.”

Fluttershy merely nods her head.

“Tell me, with this... thing... happening to Applejack and I, is something similar happening between you and Rainbow?”

Fluttershy blushes furiously and stammers in place. “Well...”

“Aha! I knew it!” I jump as soon as I see the red color brightens her canary cheeks.

“No, i-it’s nothing like that...” she takes the towel off her mane and covers her face. “It’s just a... one time thing.”

I could not hold my gasp. “Y-You mean you two had a one-night–”

“No!” her voice cracks. “I mean, not like with you and Applejack, we just...”

“Yes?”

“Rainbow Dash and I just...”

“Yes?”

“I kissed Raibow Dash!” she blunders out in half a second, stamping the exclamation point with her eep.

“Oh!” I gasp “That’s very bold of you to admit. You the kisser and she the kissee–that’s unexpected. How daring!”

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone.” Fluttershy leans closer and would have almost knelt.

“Of course, darling. We learned that long ago.” Specifically, with that time with Photo Finish. “Keep secrets from the world but not from best friends, remember? So... do tell.”

“About what?”

“Rainbow Dash of course.”

“I’m afraid there’s not much to tell.”

“There’s always much to tell.”

“Like what?”

“For one, why did you kiss her?”

“Well...” she hangs her head down, avoiding my eyes. “I...”

The door opens and closes as Lotus comes in. She walks back to the coals and pours the scented water—it sizzles into steam that thickens the air.

“Go on...” I tell Fluttershy. “I’m sure Lotus can keep our secrets as well.”

I wink at Lotus and she winks back.

“It was that time... at that place...” Fluttershy continues, still unsure, “After the wedding... in my cabin. She was very sleepy and well... sleeping... and I was awake so... there...”

“...and?”

“...and?”

“Where did you kiss her? How did you do it? How did it felt? What made you do it?” I move closer to her with each question.

“It was for saving me–a thank you–from that changeling attack. And uh... well, I don’t know... I don’t have much to compare but it was just a light tap kiss thing... on the lips”

Both Lotus and I draw in breath.

“The first of many?” I ask.

“Umm... No... Just one”

“But you want to, of course?”

Fluttershy blushes furiously to the point that her color transforms to a bright pink. She turns away, and then makes a subtle nod. Too subtle in fact, as though there is no movement in her head and it’s just the wind blowing through her mane.

“D-Does Rainbow Dash know?” I ask, sensing her discomfort. “Does she know that you feel that way?”

She shakes her head.

“But surely you will tell her.”

She shakes her head again.

“Do you want me to–”

“No!” she blurts out. “I mean... I don’t want to trouble her. I mean, I’m just Fluttershy. And she’s Rainbow Dash. I mean, she so fast and brave. And I’m just shy and... scared. It won’t work out. She won’t like somepony as me. It won’t work out since we’ve been childhood friends and there’ll just be trouble and I don’t want to confuse her.”

“Don’t say that, dear.” I say placing my hooves over hers. “You underestimate yourself. You’re an excellent and fine mare of quality. Why, stallions would be fighting for you.”

“But not... Rainbow Dash.”

“Come now, don’t be such a pessimist.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not her type.”

“What on Equestria makes you say that?” I ask. “You haven’t even tried.”

“I know because... she...” Fluttershy stammers for a bit, looking at me, and then to Lotus. “I-I... I don’t know if I should tell you?”

“You can tell me anything. I promise it won’t make me think any less of you.”

“No, it’s not me. It’s... Promise you won’t tell anypony?”

“I made that clear just a while ago.”

Fluttershy hesitates just a little while longer. “It’s just that she... Rainbow Dash likes Applejack.”

The shock is not at all surprising; it was, after all, my first suspicion for Rainbow Dash’s bitterness and resentment towards me. But to hear it worded makes me fumble in my seat.

“B-But that was a long time ago!” she panics. “A very long time ago. She doesn’t... now.”

I clear my throat and maintain my composure. “But they were never together?”

“No.” Fluttershy tries not to smile. “Applejack turned her down.”

“Why?”

“I... I don’t know. She never told me.”

“I see.”

Lotus makes a wave at me from the end of the room, signaling that we have stayed long enough in the dry heat of the steam.

“Well, no wonder Rainbow Dash has been a little bitter as of late. At least now I know. Anyway, I’m sure she’ll get over it. In the meantime, shall we proceed to our mudpacks?”

I do not wait for her approval. I jump out of the chair and trot out the door, hearing Fluttershy’s light hoofsteps behind me.

The jubilant laughter of the earth echoes all around us; it is in the whistles of the wind, in the rustles of the earth, and in the sound of Applejack’s hoofstomps against the soil. There is an austere quality in her movements. Nowhere in her heavy heaving does she show weariness–far from it. As she walks to me, climbing to the top of the hill where I wait, it appears as though she is dancing to a symphony she alone can hear, hopping lightly with a smug playfulness and gaiety. There is a quiet joy in her, the kind that relishes one’s exhaustion after a hard day’s work, knowing she has earned the right to relax and rest.

My horn glows and I levitate a fresh towel to her from the picnic basket.

“Thank ya kindly,” she says, wiping herself clean of sweat. “Ya sure ya ain’t getting’ bored?”

“Of course not.”

“Heck, ah’d get tired of watchin’ me.”

“I don’t.”

She sits beside me, beneath the shade of our parasol. I take another towel from the basket and proceed to wipe the parts of her back and nape she couldn’t reach. She takes her hat and starts fanning herself.

“Are you done for the rest of the day?” I ask.

“Almost,” she groans, stretching. “Still need to buck clean three dozen or so apple trees down the east field.” She points beyond another hill where several trees glint and glitter their fruits like rubies. “See the orchards over there? That there where we grow the Cortlands. See, those apples need special care when ya plant them. Not too much sun or else ya the sugar in’em dries out, which is why we keep’em under that hill over there. Every year we dig a small channel from the river and...”

Applejack goes on speaking. She speaks for a long time. She talks about the apples, the proper placement of the trees, the irrigation system to make sure the land gets its moisture. Then she goes further by talking about the methods of storing apples and making cider. I try to listen to her, but the meanings of her words are lost to the sound of her voice. She speaks as though she’s commanding the earth and sky that she herself has tamed over the years, as though nature submits to the authority of her hard work. When she points to the barn or to the mountains, I do not move; rather, it seems she moved the earth beneath us. But it is unnecessary; my eyes stay on her, on the muscular shape of her figure, on the strict motions of her body, of the dance of her mane against the breeze. It’s the same pleasure I experience while I watch her work the trees, the rare sight of somepony in complete control of her life, work and happiness.

She suddenly stops talking in the middle of the sentence, and she looks at me staring at her. She smiles. Without my permission–she knew I granted it long ago–she grabs me, pulls me closer and kisses me for what seems to be the thousandth time today.

“Consarn it,” she says, as soon as our lips break apart.

“What’s wrong?” I kiss her on the neck, still within her embrace.

“I’ve been holding off all afternoon. Tryin’ to control myself.”

“And why is that?”

“Wouldn’t wanna be all forceful on ya.”

I smile at her. “That never stopped you before.”

“Sugar, ever since the mornin’ of our first night my instinct is screamin’ me to jump ya and smother ya with kisses. If ah don’t control mahself, I’ll be on ya twenty-four seven.”

A powerful blush reddens my whole face and I see it mirrored in hers.

“If. Ya know, ‘if’, right,” she says. “Wouldn’t wanna do anythin’ to lose ya.”

“It’d take a whole lot more than that.”

Before our stomachs grumble again, I take out the sandwiches I had prepared and give three pieces to my hungry Applejack and one for me. We eat in silence, listening to the sounds of chirping birds and watching the sun slowly inching down the horizon.

Afterwards, Applejack lies on her back, chewing on a wheatgrass, and using my lap as a pillow. Her eyes are closed, as though she is sleeping, as I run my hoof down her golden mane.

“Ya know...” she says, “Ah reckon this is the only thing I’ve ever wanted in life: livin’ on Sweet Apple Acres with Granny Smith, Big Mac and AB. Workin’ hard from sunrise to sunset. And when ah’m done ah’d be seeing my special somepony waiting for me on a hill with a picnic basket. She’d tell me to take a break and Ah’d tell her ah still got trees to buck but what the hay, ah always got time for’er. So we’d eat under the shade and watch the sunset. Then I tell her how much ah love her.”

“She must be a very lucky pony.”

“She doesn’t even know how lucky she is yet,” she said. She opens her eyes, smiles at me and caresses my cheeks. “But ah’m still the luckier one.”

“It could be anypony. Perhaps even Rainbow Dash?”

The smile on Applejack’s face stiffens. “Ya heard, huh?”

“In passing.”

“It was a long time ago, back in our first Running of the Leaves. She said she fancied me and ah said no.”

“May I know why?”

“Ah told her ah wasn’t into mares.”

My eyes go wide as she says it. But upon seeing my reaction, she offers an explanation.

“It wasn’t a lie then. Ah really wasn’t into mares. Ah always figured ah’d be settling down with some big young stallion, would be mighty useful to have around the farm. But Rainbow Dash and ah were fast to get over it. Ya know, we’re best gals now, bridge under the water and all. Only... sometimes when a storm's a brewin’, that water rises to high tide. Like that time in the party. Guess being with ya made her think that ah was lyin’ to her. Still, no reason to go and act like a jerk.”

“But, Applejack, I’m a mare.” I can’t even believe I said that.

“Of course ya are. You’re the marest mare ah know.”

“But–”

“But nothin’.” Applejack stands on all fours and embraces me. “Ah think ya still don’t know how much ah love you that it’s time for me to say it.”

She holds me down against the picnic blanket and the force she exerts throws my glass of juice off balance, spilling all its contents. I feel a tingle of fear in me, knowing that Applejack can take me right here and now; and knowing she won’t, because the more frightened pony is the one who is holding me under her hooves.

“Ah won’t say ah love ya, because ah think that word’s been overused too much to mean what ah do. Rarity, yer the only mare in the world who made me not give a darn over what’s right and wrong anymore. Ah don’t care if you’re no stallion or that ah’m a mare, ah want you; and ah want ya to want me. Ya made me feel somethin’ ah never felt for anypony else. It’s like there’s somethin’ in me that’s wantin’ to get out, waitin’ to scream, and wantin’ to be heard. Ah woke up one day to find the whole world had changed. Every musician’s singin’ about you, every book has you bein’ the heroine, every drawin’ and picture paintin' ya and nothin’ else. Every darn time in the lonely orchards my mind wanders to ya and it always feel like the air is always so clean and ... and the day’s always so fresh. When ah wake up, the first thing on my mind is tryin’ to find some excuse to meet ya; whether it’s goin’ to where yer goin’ or watching the apple stand and hope ya’ll pass by. And when by some miracle ah do see ya, the whole sky turns blue and sunny and everypony is mah best friend. Whenever ya speak ah can barely hear what ya say with the voice in my head shouting: ‘Wonderful! Dear Celestia, she’s wonderful!’ and ah just nod along like a foal. Then ah’ll go back to mah barn, mumbling curses to mahself of how ah might have said somethin’ stupid and ruined yer day or how ah tried to hide mah feelings by scowlin’ when ya offered to make me a dress. But I know deep down ah’d give half the farm for that dress, cause it’s from you to me; ah’d treasure it, embrace it, tryin’ to catch a whiff of yer perfume and start giggling when ah do. Then ah tell on mahself for lovin ya the only way ah know how: by bein’ selfish. I kept it inside but ah want ya. Want! Ya know what that word means? How much ah wanted ya. I want to grab ya and not let go. I want to buck anypony in the face who thinks they can take ya from me. I want to smother ya with kisses. I want to sleep with ya, just sleep, cuddlin’ in mah embrace with no other thought than how ah’d love to see the next sunrise holdin’ ya in mah hooves. But you ain’t like me, yer generous. Ya love everypony just the same and here ah am asking just a little bit more; that if ya were to share a hundredth or a thousandth part of mah whole feelin’ for ya then ya will... you will...

“Look, ah ain’t no prince. Ah’m just a regular country mare. Ah ain’t got no diamonds or bits in mah name. Ah can’t get ya no castles or expensive wine. Ah ain’t got nothin’ to show for my love but my word, but if ah could tear mah chest open and show ya that ya make my heart race then maybe ya could think that... that at least that this farm mare ain’t so bad after all. That this cowpony will treasure ya like nopony in Equestria ever will. That she’ll treat ya like the princess ya deserve to be treated. And that ya won’t ever regret lovin’ her back.

“So no more dilly-dallying! No more beatin’ around the bush. Ah want ya, Rare. Ah want ya more than anything else in the world. Ah want to take ya in mah life. Please, be mine, Rarity. Be my mare!”

I lay still, unmoving yet moved completely.

Applejack looks at me as though I will vanish the second she lets go. Her hoof around me tightens, pressing me against her thumping chest. She looks with the eyes of a pup, with nothing but true inviolable affection, almost pleading and begging to understand and be understood. With a touch of my hoof to her cheeks I can emit those tears she so desperately hides behind her crystalline eyes. I feel a wetness drip down my cheeks and I find that it is not she who is on the verge of crying.

It is I.

The purifying liquid streams down the corners of my eyes. There are neither sobs nor cries, only the gripping shame that squeezes tears from my chest, the shame of it, that it is I whom she loves. I, who turns whore to a prince, who betrays and bewitches, who sold herself to a stallion the eve just after our first night. I would be the object of Applejack’s affection.

“Applejack...” I mutter, “you should know that after our first night, I–”

“Ah’m gonna kiss ya now,” she interrupts, quietly, “maybe for the last time. Ah’ll kiss ya and ya tell me what ya feel.”

The kiss is altogether different from all those that preceded it. It does not feel that she is kissing me, Rarity, but that animating principle the shell of our bodies protects and keeps sacred. I feel, for the briefest of instants, that my heart has died and come back to life. Truth be told, I do not feel for her as strongly as she does to me. But in this kiss, in our first true kiss, a spark in my soul ignites while a firestorm rages in hers.

When I see Applejack again, I see my reflection in her emerald eyes. Whenever I am with her, I never feel more alive. It is as though that when I look at Applejack, it is inevitable not to look at oneself from the reflection of her eyes. And in seeing myself, I am never more real. All the plastic shenanigans and pretensions become irrelevant. To lie in the face of Applejack is to lie in the face of honesty, and to oneself.

Shining Armor...

And Shining Armor–what of him?–how shameful that I remember him now of all times. His name came from the same depths as the imaginary pressure between my legs. Shining Armor, the prince to whom I have given all of me for him.

Shining Armor does not belong to me, not anymore.

He gave me what I asked, a single night, a taste, of the world in his bed. A night never to be mentioned, uttered or even thought of again. It will remain, not even as a memory, but the most real of my fantasies. I know that he will see to it, with all that’s left of his integrity as a prince and husband, that we will never see each other again.

I look at Applejack, still patient, still waiting, and still hopeful.

She’s not Shining Armor; she’s not a prince, but maybe... Maybe I could learn to love her as much as she loves me–or as much as I love him. And I may have found my one true love, at last.

I hold on to Applejack’s hoof and lead it to my chest.

“Applejack...” I hold my breath and finally say the long-awaited words, “I love you. Of course I’ll be your mare!”

The smile on her lips reaches from ear to ear. The emotion takes hold of her body, of her very being. With neither warning nor precaution, she jumps off from me and starts running, galloping, hollering and howling like a madpony, screaming “she loves me!” to the mountains and hills at the top of her lungs. Flocks after flocks of birds of all colors fly in every direction from Applejack’s boisterous burst of energy. The trees sway and its leaves rustle as though cheering and congratulating her.

I cannot help but share in her delight with a laugh. I watch her, a noisy orange figure of love tracing a great arc amidst the greensward. She completes the arc twice and runs back up to the hill to where I am, still in full speed.

“Applejack, careful–” I try, but too late. She reaches me, seizes me in her arms and kisses me.

And I like it.

The momentum catches up to us and we tumble, rolling all the way down the hill, laughing in each other’s embrace. We crash down on a bed of white lilies and the petals dance around us.

“Applejack, you ruffian!” I say, slapping her chest and kissing her again and again. “You’d get my coat all dirty.”

“Told ya ah’m selfish.”

“I know,” I say. “I’ll always indulge your selfishness.”

We stay kissing on that bed, my heart fluttering like those butterflies in the near distance. Small critters are also looking, most leave us to our privacy while some stay and watch. Applejack and I paid them no mind, or we can’t, rather. All our concentration and focus–all our world–lies in the touch of the other mare’s lips. It is funny considering that most pleasures in this world eventually grow wearisome, but kissing Applejack seems so right, as if there is no shortage for the insatiable. We could keep kissing like this until our lips hurt, or at least until somepony decides to interrupt us.

“Uh... Excuse me?” a third pony says.

I look up and see Twilight Sparkle standing there, slapping her hoof against her forehead.

“I knew I’d find you both here but at least more... composed and less.. giddy,” she says, briskly turning away.

Applejack and I stand up from our salacious position and make a sly giggle.

“Anyway, Rarity, I came here to tell you some exciting news.” Twilight turns to us again, she smiles noticing the closer proximity between the earth pony and I.

“Not as exciting as ours!”Applejack says.

“I could make a guess.”

“Darn tootin’. Rarity and me are officially, undoubtedly, absolutely, and completely lovers,” Applejack exclaims. I nuzzle her neck as she says so. “Told ya she’d be mah mare.”

“Oh... really?” Twilight says, half in disbelief and half in disappointment.

“What? Don’t tell me yer against it.”

“What! No, of course not,” Twilight laughs. “I knew you two would eventually end up together but I didn’t expect it till next week. I even made a bet with Pinkie for fifty bits.”

“Well, I figured how much I can’t take my hooves off Jacqueline,” I say locking forelegs with my lover. “Sorry for your fifty bits, darling.”

“Anyway, this is great news! I am so happy for you.” Twilight jumps excitedly and shakes both our hooves. “I need to tell the others.”

“Right, but ah reckon we should tell them, Rarity and me.”

“I agree,” I add. “We would like our best friends to be the first to know.”

“Well, c’mon then. Pinkie and Fluttershy are in the library.” Twilight turns and starts to lead the way.

“Can’t this wait till uh... sometime later?” Applejack looks at the both of us, hope in her eyes.

Twilight makes an ‘oh’ with her mouth and sighs. “Fine. Just don’t get too... exhausted.”

Twilight is about to teleport away when I quickly interrupt her.

“Darling, wait!” I quickly remember. “What was that news you were going to tell us?”

“Oh right, I almost forgot with all this excitement,” Twilight giggles. “I have wonderful news: Cadance and Shining Armor are moving in to Ponyville!”