Life on the ranch with you was perfect.

Sublime.

Appleloosa wasn't a large city, thank Celestia for that—Braeburn wouldn't have met you if it was.

You worked at a small restaurant in the bustling plaza of the western city—tips were all you were really living on. You were lucky the people in the city were so generous and friendly. Braeburn met you there one day whilst you were working—he was mesmerized. You were perfect in his eyes.

From there, both of your lives changed.. maybe for the worst.

From what started as a budding relationship bloomed into a happy engagement. You moved in with him on the ranch, helping out and whatnot. The idea of raising a foal was.. present. Braeburn thought it best to wait until marriage, and eventually, you agreed.

Unfortunately, marriage couldn't be an option.

A vicious plague, transferred from one of your cattle, entered your bloodstream. Thankfully, it wasn't contagious—at least, for equines, it wasn't. Yet, it was still dangerous. Eventually, it claimed you, and left Braeburn in an empty home—staring at the same bed that death had claimed you in.

Months had gone by, and Braeburn was deteriorating. Loved you, he did. A bit too much… so much so, he was even willing to try and join you. His friends and family grew concerned, forcing him to visit his cousin, Applejack, and her family, in an attempt to rehabilitate him.

One day, Applejack being a pony who was worried for the wellbeing of her beloved cousin, Braeburn, decided to bring him with her to one of the meetings in the palace. Having explained the situation beforehand to the mane 5(6, minus A.J.), they understood, and welcomed him with open arms. Hours passed before things got interesting enough for Braeburn to intervene. Twilight had gone inside a mystical mirror, seemingly capable of transporting her to another universe and dimension completely. Of course, Braeburn didn't know this—no, not at all. Not until he experienced it for himself.

When the time was right, and he was alone, he entered. Braeburn was a curious individual—surely a peek wouldn't hurt? No, a peek didn't, but him tumbling to the ground did.

With a grunt, the stallion—no—man hit the grassy ground of the school campus face first, groaning as he tried to prop himself up, only for his arms to give out, not used to the lesser amount of joints in his body to help prop him up.

Just then,

a voice.

A sweet voice, one Braeburn yearned to hear for weeks and weeks upon end.

Yours.

“.. Are you alright?”