Chapter Text
Applejack groaned as the first rays of sunlight shone through her bedroom window. She threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Stretching, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and trudged to the bathroom.
Standing at the sink, she brushed her teeth with a worn toothbrush and ran a comb through her tangled blonde hair. Her reflection stared back at her, plain, just the way she liked it. Applejack never put much thought into her appearance, there wasn’t much point when you spent most of your days covered in dirt and sweat. She tugged on her usual outfit, a plaid button-up shirt, faded jeans secured with a large-buckled belt, and her favorite cowboy boots.
After tossing her hat onto her head, she made her way downstairs. The aroma of freshly baked biscuits greeted her as she entered the kitchen.
"Mornin’, Granny,” Her country accent rang thick with tire.
Granny Smith, seated at the table peeling apples for a pie, looked up with a warm smile. “Mornin’, darlin’. Don’t forget yer breakfast before ya head out.”
“I’ll grab somethin’ later. Got work ta do,” Applejack replied, kissing her grandmother on the cheek before heading out the door.
Outside, the morning air carried the scent of hay and apples. Her brother, Big Mac, was already at work loading hay bales onto the old truck.
“Mornin’, brother,” she called, grabbing a pair of gloves.
“Eeyup,” he replied, tipping his head in acknowledgment.
The day passed in its usual rhythm, picking apples from the trees, herding the cows back into the barn, and stacking bales of hay. All the while, Applejack had her favorite playlist playing through her earphones, a mix of country and folk that kept her spirits up.
She was just about to take a break when the rumble of tires on gravel caught her attention. Applejack straightened up, narrowing her eyes as she spotted a sleek white car rolling into the driveway.
“What in tarnation?” she muttered. Big Mac looked over too, his brow raising curiously.
The car came to a stop, and the door swung open. Out stepped a tall, slim woman with ivory skin and perfectly styled purple ringlets. She was dressed beautifully in a white skirt and jacket combo over a black blouse, her outfit completed with sparkling diamond jewelry and heels that looked utterly impractical on a farm.
Applejack let out a scoff. “What could a prissy little gal like her want with our ranch?”
She turned back to her work, dismissing the visitor as some lost city girl, until the sharp sound of snapping fingers made her stop.
“Excuse me?” The woman called out in a monotone, almost demanding, voice. “Big girl, hello?”
Applejack turned slowly, her eyes narrowing as she walked over to the fence. She leaned against it casually, crossing her arms, a strained smile spread across her face.
“And what can I do for ya, princess?” she asked, her drawl dripping with sarcasm.
The woman, unfazed, adjusted her sunglasses and straightened her posture. “The name’s Rarity. I need a horse.”
Applejack raised a brow. “A horse? And what exactly do ya know ’bout takin’ care of one?”
“Not much,” Rarity admitted with a wave of her manicured hand. “But my niece wants one for her birthday, and what my niece wants, she gets.”
Applejack snorted, her eyes rolling. “Figures. Well, let me tell ya somethin’, Miss Fancy-Pants. Horses ain’t toys. They’re livin’, breathin’ creatures. You don’t just go around handin’ ’em out like gifts.”
“Fine,” Rarity snapped, her tone icy. “I’ll take my business elsewhere.”
“Good luck with that,” Applejack muttered, turning back to her work.
As Rarity’s car roared out of the driveway, Applejack shook her head. “Rarity, huh? What a dumb name,” she mumbled under her breath.
But later that night, as Applejack lay in bed listening to her favorite tunes, her thoughts kept drifting back to the elegant stranger. Her sharp voice, her demeanor, and the way her presence had stirred something in Applejack that she couldn’t quite place.
“Hate,” Applejack told herself firmly. “It’s gotta be hate.”
But deep down, she wasn’t so sure.