ROYALS

By: Einhander

Pre-Read by: Cola Bubble Gum

Edited by: Sharp Spark, Cola Bubble Gum

"I've never held a diamond in my hoof."

Rarity blinked, unsure her ears were working properly. "Really, darling?" She flicked them once, taking in the gentle symphony of clinking plates and polite chewing around her. Conversations and whispers and orders being taken, she could make out almost all of it, especially the donkey at the end of the bar complaining about the wine he had just been poured ("I ordered a white, not a rose!") No, though The Gilded Oat was far from a quiet restaurant, her hearing was just fine. She had heard the stallion opposite her correctly. All that was left was to discern his meaning. "Not a one?"

He shrugged, his mouth shrugging with him in a lazy smile. "Maybe when I was a colt? I’ve seen them, to be sure. Through a glass, and such. But I can’t remember a single time I had one in my hoof."

"Surely, I would have thought–"

She stopped herself, as she had learned, over the past few weeks, lesson one in Filthy Rich 101: assume most of your assumptions are wrong. Time and time again, from their first meeting to now, he had not been the pony his name promised. Well, he was wealthy, but his hygiene was not to be questioned, or his integrity. Or his intelligence. She wished she had stopped her careless comment sooner, before the word 'thought' escaped her lips, but alas, there it was, flying through the air towards her handsome date. She hoped it would sail right by him.

It didn't.

"Thought what?" He asked, starting to pour her more of the very red, no doubt very expensive, wine he had ordered for the table. "That I go home and dive into a vault filled with bits, bonds and diamonds?"

Despite the warm cacophony of sounds surrounding their booth, Rarity could only hear the sound of wine into crystal and her own throat's sharp intake of breath. His eyes were on the wine, but he was clearly waiting for an answer. After all their weeks working together, she thought she had moved beyond 101. Yet here she was, once again having wandered into a trap of her own design. She dug deep down, making extravagant promises to her wit if it would only bail her out this one last time.

"Well I would hope you'd at least wear a swimming suit before embarking on such an absurd past-time." She said, adopting what she thought was her best coy smile. "Unless... Mr. Rich, you want ponies to start thinking of your first name as less metaphor and more literal."

"HA!"

It was a lavish laugh, the braying of a pony who liked to let loose and was out of practice. Filthy drew looks, both surprised and disapproving, as his cackling continued and he spilled some of the wine onto the tablecloth (Celestia knows how much it's worth a drop no don't think about that don't don't don't!)

"I don't know about the diamonds." He recovered his composure as he refreshed his glass of wine. "But I imagine jumping headfirst into a pile of bits would hurt, even with a swimming suit."

He could have let her slip-up slide. He could have let them all slide. Instead he sprung each of the verbal traps, subtly but with a definite snap. He seemed to enjoy the verbal jousting, seeing her turn the stumble into a dance move. Anyway, she knew she was having fun. And as he replaced the bottle on the table, he gave her a wink. The simple closing of an eye did unhealthy things to her heart.

You're welcome, snickered her inner voice.

Rarity smiled and magically raised her glass. "At least diamonds have a better chance of being properly cleaned. Bits, I mean, my goodness, how many hooves do they change before finding their way into one's bag?"

Filthy raised his glass. "On average?" He paused for a moment, looking up as his lips moved in silent calculation. "Forty two hundred, before they go out of circulation."

She blinked. "Forty two hundred?" This time she stopped herself before going further.

"Give or take a hundred." He smiled, extending his glass. "Cheers."

Clink.

They drank, and neither said a word for a moment as the wine passed over their lips, swirling the present sensations and pairing them with recent memories.

Rich shook his head. "To think you and I would be here, now."

Rarity smiled. “Well, we have good taste in friends…”

"Afternoon, Applejack, I thought I'd...Oh! Is that the famous Lady Rarity? I wouldn’t expect to see you at Sweet Apple Acres."

"In the flesh! Although I’m not sure why I’m the ‘famous’ Rarity, I do appreciate the compliment, Mr. Rich. Come in, come in!”

“Well, Ponyville’s a small town and everyone knows you, Lady Rarity. ”

“Kind of you to say. Applejack asked me to take care of you for a moment, as we lost track of the time. Have a seat.”

“If it’s a bad time, I can always come back later…”

“Nonsense! Sit, sit. She said she’d be back with the paperwork in ‘two shakes of a pony’s tail.’”

“Well, then, I guess I will.”

“...”

“... I’ve never understood that expression.”

“I rarely understand much of what Applejack says, but I often love the way she says it. Tea?”

“Miss Jack has tea?”

“No, but I always come prepared. One lump or two?”

“Two.”

“Actually I must confess that my awful tardiness is what’s caused her slight tardiness. I was supposed to here forty minutes ago.”

“What happened?”

“A pony needed my help, and I could not refuse, even if it meant a slight delay. Tell me, do you always come personally to Sweet Apple Acres to pick up your orders?"

"Ms. Smith and I always operated on a hoofshake deal about Zap Apple Jam. Now that she's gone, sadly, I thought it important to come personally to handle all the details with Ms. Jack."

"How kind of you. The same terms, I assume?"

"Better, actually, at least temporarily. I’ve been coming over more often to make sure the paperwork is all correct. Last month their bits were held up for weeks because of an unchecked box on a form. This family has suffered enough."

“Agreed.”

“Lady Rarity, you are close with the Apples, right?”

“Applejack and I have had our differences, but there are few ponies I trust more than she, and her family.”

“Then as a fellow friend to them, may I ask how Ms. Jack is doing? I don’t see her as much as you do, but from what I do see, I think the strain of running the whole enterprise is getting to her. Especially since Mr. Macintosh is busy being a new father and her sister is in high school now, being, well, a high schooler.”

"We've all been trying to help out in our own ways… I think Pinkie and I have been around the most, what with Rainbow being a full time Wonderbolt, Fluttershy has her hands full with the new foal and Princess Twilight being, well, a Princess. In fact that’s why I was here today, trying to help..."

"What's all the hubbub?"

"Pardon?"

"Sorry, term of art for the sales trade. The papers you have spread out here."

"Oh. A failed attempt at a pitch something to Applejack, I'm afraid. No matter."

"A pitch? Equestrian is actually my second language, I was raised on pitch."

"That must have made for some interesting first words."

"Ha! Yes. But Ms. Jack wasn't buying your brand?"

"Sadly, no. But funny you should say 'brand', that's what I was trying to convince her to do..."

"Branding, eh?"

"Yes! Look, Mr. Rich– can I call you Filthy?"

"I'd rather you didn't, actually. Sorry."

"Oh. Ahem. Well, Mr. Rich, would you agree Sweet Apple Acres Apples are the best?"

"Absolutely. I wouldn't sell them if they weren't."

"But would you agree that unless there's a sign or a names crate, you won't know it's an apple family apple until you bite into it?"

"Hmm. Unless it's a Zap Apple, no, I wouldn't be able to tell. The distinctiveness is on the inside."

"Exactly! Now what if these apples had a symbol, a mark that would instantly identify them, let the buyer and seller know, and anyone else who happened to walk by, that it was unmistakably an Apple Farm apple? A symbol like this?"

"Wow. That's... Quite good, Lady Rarity."

"Sadly, Applejack insists that her apples, and I quote, 'don't need no fancy marks.' I even offered to do it for free, but, no."

"For free? Lady Rarity, Business 101: If you’re good at something, never do it for free.”

“Mr. Rich, Friendship 102: Never charge a friend for a gift you give from your heart.”

“These really are eye-catching. I wonder. Are you free tomorrow for lunch?"

"What? Er. I suppose so, I have a few appointments but there's a gap between them–"

"Good. Come by my office at 1? It will be a working lunch."

"But, Filt– Mr. Rich. What will we be working on?"

"Bring your drawings. You'll see."

A beige unicorn mare in a smart waiter uniform crossed behind them, excusing the intrusion with a whispered pardon, as she lit the wall mounted lanterns with a nod of her horn. Each became a warm beacon of magical light. The glow bounced off the walls, as The Gilded Oat was more than just a cleverly named Prarisian restaurant, it actually had a dining room covered in gold leaf. The reflected light shone in her eyes, causing her to squint a bit but otherwise highlighting her face as if it was a portrait.

There was an ornate mirror on the wall with a polished silver frame. Rarity regarded her reflection as she looked away from their toast and sipped her wine delicately. She wore sapphire earnings, a touch of blush and subtle lashes, paired with a new blue dress that was a very unplanned sudden expenditure, but it perfectly matched the earrings.

As she glanced in the mirror, she realized the beige unicorn waiter was looking at her curiously. However, once Rarity caught her eye in the mirror, the waiter looked away and scurried off.

“What did you think of the menu?” Rich asked.

“I heard Princess Twilight herself approved the selections and makes sure the chef uses the freshest ingredients.” She replaced the wine on the table and chuckled. “That being said, even if Twilight knows how to pronounce some of these menu items, I doubt she’d ever actually order them. I heard a story that she drives the Canterlot cooks batty with request after request for nothing but dandelion sandwiches.”

"I heard a story about you, Miss Rarity."

"Oh? One of my adventures with Twilight? We did save the world once or twice or four times."

He shook his head. "No, about you. Not about your friends. Just you."

Rarity held her breath. There were only three or four events he could be referring to, but which? And where the buck were their first courses (salad for him, soup for her) which would give her the perfect deflection to get out of this?

When it was clear no culinary rescue was inbound, she swallowed and said "Just me?"

"Yes. A famous or infamous story depending on whom you ask. And begging your pardon but I feel like I just have to know..."

"A story or a rumor?" Rarity asked, reaching for her wine in what she hoped looked like a casual manner.

Rich tilted his head. "What do you feel is the difference? Either way, that matters is whether it’s true or false?"

"A story is a plain but pretty pony dressed to their best, all the finest features brought forth and their blemishes and faults concealed.” She sipped her wine carefully, keeping eye contact. “A touch of illusion, perhaps, but what are the facts when stacked up against the truth of that pony's beauty in the light?"

Rich laughed. "I can't wait to hear what a rumor is."

"A cheap floozy wearing cheaper perfume." Rarity gently but firmly placed the glass on the table. "A rumor is a sad pony dressed in clothes that draw the eye but are one wash away from coming apart at the seams. The only nice thing on her is the makeup, because you need quality foundation to cover the scars, and the tears. You almost feel sorry for her until you hear the bile in her words and the jealousy in her heart."

She caught his stunned gaze. A sharp intake of breath and she looked down, eyes suddenly intent on the bread basket on the table. There was nothing as riveting in the world as a metal container filled with some scones and a baguette. Where the words came from she didn’t know, but now they were on the table.

Rich said, "Wow." Then, nothing, as he picked up his glass of water. She heard him sip the water as she slowly took a scone out of the basket and broke it half, still looking away. Magically applying a tiny layer of butter, she waited for more words to come. They did not. From her vantage point of eyes on the table, she could tell he had replaced his water glass. But no words.

Inaction provoked action. She looked up and saw his eyes... Kindness? Concern? Unclear. There was a softness at least, an indication of a mind not yet made up.

Finally he said, "How do you know which is which? You certainly have a way with words, but words are only words."

"A story makes life more worth living, one tiny detail at a time. It is humble and promises only itself. The other is more entrancing, hinting at exotic treasures and delights. If it sounds too good be true but you listen anyway. You wake up the next morning with an empty wallet and a head full of thunder clouds, if you’re lucky."

He arched an eyebrow. "And if you’re unlucky?"

She sighed. "A hole in your heart."

They sat in silence as the bustle of the restaurant swirled around them. Their two-top was a tiny eye in the cyclone of noise. Rarity's hooves rested on the table, suddenly unable to move, even to pick up a buttered scone. She had her magic, but it also seemed far away, less likely than moving her hooves. What had she confessed? Nothing, really, and yet a storm grew in her stomach. It would have been better to have some pony light their table on fire, that would have been less upsetting than this silence after her outburst.

This was a mistake.

Tension poured into her hind legs. While she couldn't move her hooves to eat or drink, she was able to bolt, and soon it wouldn't be an option but a necessity.

Then he put his hoof over hers, and everything stopped. She looked up.

"I was very honored you accepted my invitation to dinner."

There could be no mistake now about what was in his eyes. Kindness. After all, he was smiling as he said it.

She said, "I was flattered to be asked, Fil."

He blushed at her words.

The silence returned, but it was warm this time. She didn't mind it. Smile met smile, and the tension drained out of her.

"But I'm afraid I really must ask..."

The tension poured right back in, this time flooding all four legs.

"... Story or rumor I don't presume to know, but Miss Rarity, tell me, honestly now..."

His eyes were still kind, but determined now. Hoof still on her hoof, she couldn't escape. Why? Why after such kindness, would he press the matter, why–

"Did you really tell Prince Blueblood to gallop off a cliff at the Grand Galloping Gala all those years ago?"

She was glad that there was no wine in her mouth, for surely it would have jettisoned from her mouth and landed all over her date.

"I heard of it from several sources, but no one version is the same. One involves being forced to pay for pastry, one involves shoving him into a fountain, another has you splashing mud over him, and they all mention a glass slipper but I'm not sure how or why it factors in." He took his hoof off her hers. "And I so wanted to hear the real story, first hoof, from the lady herself."

And she smiled. She laughed, she smiled and she laughed as music filled her heart as she almost sang, "It's a story worth telling."

As he laughed, the soup and salad arrived. He waited for the waiter to finish the presentation, and once pepper and cheese was dispensed, heleaned over the table with an easy smile.

"Then by all means..."

"I don't mind playing the trading game with other towns. In fact, I enjoy it. But I when it comes to Ponyville, I consider it my responsibility to protect our own. To give back, to make sure our town grows and local industries thrive. Especially the Apple Family."

"Your two families go back aways don't you?"

"Without the Zap Apple business, there would be no Rich’s Barnyard Bargains. But lately, I fear, without Barnyard Bargains, I don't know if there would still be Apple Farms."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Lady Rarity, would you agree with me that Ms. Jack is an honest pony, a bit stubborn but a very hard worker, committed to make sure that her family is provided for?

"Agreed on all points. She's our town’s best businessmare."

"There we disagree. Apple Farms has fallen behind on their payments, shipped orders to the wrong places or not at all, and in general has been in decline since Ms. Smith passed away."

"What are you saying? Applejack hasn't mentioned anything, and surely Granny Smith couldn't be running the place. She could barely hear! She was so elderly and, well, a little..."

"Crazy? Like Discord, Ms. Rarity. She ran the place like clockwork. The grandfoals grew the fruit, but the grandmother did the deals."

"My word. I had no idea."

"Indeed. Without her, the vultures have been circling, and it's too much for Applejack, poor mare."

"I would strongly advise you not use the words 'poor mare' within earshot of Applejack, unless you're looking for a hoof to the face. She will pull through."

"Let me be clear: Applejack is the strongest mare I know. She will work herself to the bone for her family. But every pony has strengths and weaknesses. I hope you don't take offense, but I would not hire you to raise a barn."

"It would offend me more if you thought I could raise a barn."

"Which is why I'm instead asking you, as a fellow businesspony, to aid me in saving Sweet Apple Acres."

"Fellow businesspony? Sir, I am a designer.”

"You started with nothing, or very little. Now, you flourish and have your own business with your own customer list. You showed in Manehattan and designed Princess Twilight's gown for her coronation. Stop me if I'm wrong about any of this."

"No."

"There are other artists in Ponyville, but there is only one business mare, Lady Rarity. There are flower sellers, chocolate makers and apple farmers, and then there’s you. And I need your help. I’m asking for your help."

"That's all very flattering, but what, exactly, are you asking of me?"

"Branding! I saw what you proposed for Apple Farms. I mentioned to her as well that day, how wonderful the design was, but she wouldn't hear of it. So we try another way. Let's see what happens when she sees it."

"I showed her the design as well, I’m not sure what more we could do.”

"Not that design. The one you are going to do for me, if I can convince you. I want you to redesign the look of Barnyard Bargains."

“The look?”

“The look, the logo, the store, even our catalogues if you’ve got the time. I was born when there was but one princess, now we have four. It’s a new era, and Barnyard Bargains has to move with the times. And if Sweet Apple Acres wants to survive, it must as well.”

“Well I certainly applaud your ambition, but this will take time. I didn’t come up with this Apple logo overnight, you know.”

“Of course not. Let’s meet in a week.”

“A week?!”

“Just the rough drafts, Lady Rarity, just the rough drafts. We’ll meet for lunch again, and in the meantime send me an invoice.”

“Look, Fi– Mister Ri– Do you have… is there some other name I can address you by? Mr. Rich just sounds so formal.”

“I’m not too terribly fond of my first name, Lady Rarity.”

“How about… Fil? I know it’s a bit casual, but, since we’re going to be business partners and all.”

“...”

“I’m sorry, did I step in it again?”

“No! I just, haven’t gone by that name in a long time. But yes. You can call me Fil.”

“Good! And just Rarity is fine for me.”

“I’m afraid I could never agree to that, Lady Rarity.”

"Then Pinkie Pie said that my prince would come for me, and on the lives of the Princesses, I do not know what came over me. I picked up my hoof and I pulverized that glass slipper."

"Pulverized it? How does one–"

"I stomped and I stomped until it was nothing but a fine powder."

He nodded, chewing thoughtfully. Careful to swallow before speaking, he said "That will do it, I'm sure. Was your adventure over then?"

"Mostly. I ran out and caught up with Twilight and the others." She smiled, eyes glazing over for a brief moment. "We spent the rest of the evening eating pastries and laughing with the Princess, all of us in our finest gowns."

"So Blueblood, sorry, Prince Blueblood… he’s as much of a hoof head as they say, huh?"

"I wouldn't presume to know who they are or what they say, but I say there's a reason he's still a bachelor, and I’d be shocked if any decent mare or stallion could stand him for more than five minutes unless they were family or paid by the hour. The Princess said as much without saying it. I could tell from the look in her eyes when she apologized for him."

Wrinkling his nose, Rich's smile evaporated into confusion. "Princess Twilight was already Princess Twilight then?"

She had magically floated her spoon down to the soup and back up to her mouth when the question stopped her. "Hmm? Oh, no..." She blew on the tomato bisque steaming in her spoon. "She was just 'Twilight' then. I meant Princess Celestia."

He nodded as his smile returned. "Princess Twilight was always quite friendly to me back when she was the town librarian. And to my daughter. I always appreciated that." The smile evaporated again. "Of course, my Tiara didn't speak too well of her back then, but she didn't speak too well of anypony back then." Like a see-saw the smile returned again. "Now she speaks even worse, but I can tell she's jealous of the Princess's wings and title. How fares Princess Twilight?”

Rarity shrugged, a throwaway wave of her hoof as she leaned back. "How anypony does when they find themselves thrown into a life they never wanted. She insists on being called 'just Twilight', so of course I take every opportunity to call her Princess." She chuckled. "She lets me get away with it. When Rainbow tried to do it Twilight gave her such a look!" Idly floating her glass of wine to her lips, she found herself lost in thought again. "I don't see as much of her as I'd like."

"I imagine a princess's life is quite busy, a lot of hard work. Tiara never believes me. She thinks it's all balls and gowns."

Rarity nodded, sipping her wine, eyes still elsewhere. "Balls and gowns, governance and treaties, managing the Everfree and taking care of all of us ponies. Twilight says its fine, but I can see the toll it takes on her. I saw a gray hair in her mane the last time we met for tea. A gray hair, at her age! I almost wept. She shrugged it off, though. And you know what she told me? ‘It's not my responsibilities making me go gray, it's those ridiculous balls and gowns!'" A trickle of ice had frosted around the last words. She took another sip of wine, a large one. "Ponies can be so strange sometimes. One mare's dream is another's worst fear."

Rich sipped his water for a moment. "Have I accidentally found a sore subject?"

She blinked, eyes refocusing on the now. "I'm sorry?"

"You sound like my daughter. She always wanted to be a princess too." He smiled sadly. "Even now as a teenager, she thinks it's all gold bands, Gray Dragon, trading secrets in the fillies room, wine stains, balls and gowns and trashing palace rooms." He grinned. "I keep telling her it's harder than she thinks."

Rarity balked.

She replaced the glass on the table with slightly more force than she intended. Blush ran up her cheeks as the feelings in her heart curdled. "I apologize for my rudeness. Jealousy is never pretty, is it?"

His ears perked up. "Oh, I didn't think–"

"I would humbly request however, that even if I do remind you of your daughter, you keep such thoughts to yourself. It makes me feel, I don't know if the word is odd or old but I don't like it." She stood up from the table, fueled by rage and embarrassment. "And for your information, I always knew it was more than balls and gowns."

Rich's face fell. "Of course you did. Of course." He looked down, eyes heavy. "I apologize, Lady Rarity. I meant no disrespect."

The words, paired with the expression on his face, tied her stomach in knots. Something hot filled her throat. She forced words out. "Not at all. Not at all." Her hooves felt like they were about to buckle under her. "If you'll excuse me, I must use the restroom.”

“Of course.”

“If they ask whether I am done with the soup, it was lovely, lovely I promise you! I am done, and, well." She contorted her muzzle into what she hoped was a smile, but she deliberately avoided her gaze in the mirror. "Back in two shakes of a pony’s tail."

She turned quickly and walked away, almost slamming into the back of their waiter, who was taking another table's order. Avoiding the collision took most of the self control she had left in her, and her vision became clouded with tears as she made her way to the bathroom. It was only a curious look from the mâitre d’ that inspired a last burst of composure, just enough to get her through the bathroom door and into a stall.

She closed the door, locked it, and let herself cry.

Author's Notes:

I know it's sad now, but stick around. The feels are coming.

I can't get this song out of my head.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VBmCJEehYtU