Though she often jokingly called Twilight a bibliophile, Rarity had her own dalliances with literature. Mostly of the romantic kind, of course, but they were books none the less.

She loved the way words could make her imagine a far off place, or conjure up lifelike characters for her mind’s eye to enjoy. Within the pages she found lords and princes; robbers and dastardly gentlecolts, all of which she wished would sweep her off her hooves. They were too good to be true, but they painted a pleasant picture, in contrast to the all too real Prince Blueblood.