Nova: The Greatest Gift

by FrozenPegasus

Wind whipped through the valley, snaking through the long grass, sending ripples through the still water. A white mare watched the setting sun cascade over the distant Canterlot castle, fading beams slowly receding from behind the silhouetted buildings. Her loved one slept quietly at her feet. The gravity of their accomplishment was not lost on her; nothing would ever truly be the same. Emptiness that had clutched at her was gone, dissipated… it was a feeling of completion, of peace. Though the overarching danger had only been delayed in the grand scheme of things, the immediate collapse that her lover had so greatly feared was no longer a possibility. History had not repeated itself, and that alone was a victory. She ran a hoof through the mane of her beloved, caressing her gently.

“Equestria is safe, my love. It’s all over now. I’ll always be by your side.”

The last part wasn’t a lie, not exactly; more akin to a complicated truth. There was no response, of course. The other pony inhaled and exhaled steadily, exhaustion had already taken her from consciousness. Content to let her sleep, the white mare gently ran a hoof through her mane; The sleeping mare's part in this was finished, nopony deserved a rest more than she did. Movement caught her eye, and she turned: a shrouded figure stood on the hill north of the lake, familiar voices echoing eerily in her head.

“Are you ready to fulfill the terms of our agreement?”

Gently, so as not to rouse the pony sleeping beneath her, she stood, eyes fiery, soul proud, pausing only to watch the last glimmer of the sun disappear over the horizon. She had no regrets. Looking down, she kissed the cheek of the sleeping mare gently, echoing words the mare herself had spoken long ago.

‘Never make a promise you can’t keep, right, my love?’

She was ready.

Rarity’s needle and thread worked diligently into the night. Beauty sleep be damned; there was an extremely important order that needed to be ready by the following morning, and she was committed to meeting the deadline. She let out a long yawn, hoofing the sleep out of her eyes wearily. Normally this kind of pressure was exciting to her; but when her client was nobility, the time crunch became absolutely terrifying. Unfortunately, her client was not only a noble, but a particularly distasteful pony of a most boorish, rude, and uninspiring quality.

“Lady Dar-funk-le,” she said the name aloud, like a child sounding out the syllables of a particularly slimy vegetable. There was nothing in particular Rarity could find to like about her. Perhaps it was just an unfortunate similarity to a certain other pony as the noble mare had managed to remind Rarity in of many ways of Prince Blueblood, and by association, the atrocious behavior he’d displayed at at the Galloping Gala; It was a memory she would much rather forget.

It wasn’t that Rarity showed any degree of favoritism towards one client or the other, it was always her intent to be professional; instead, the issue stemmed from a lack of inspiration. Rarity Belle did not design cookie-cutter dresses, even in her most desperate moment. If that’s what somepony really wanted, they were welcome to help themselves to the nearest department store clearance rack. Instead, she considered herself an artist, each piece ‘divined and designed for the pony in mind.’ But that particular work ethic significantly complicated things when the Pony in mind was so utterly... “blah.”

If the proper mental prerequisites were met, Rarity became a well oiled machine of productive creativity. For example, the first set of dresses she'd designed for her friends were practically effortless. Improvisation and written plans aligned as each mare’s dress came together virtually on the fly. Designing for each friend was simple because she drew from their various auras, loved them, understood them, and from that understanding came inspiration. But the only "aura" that came to mind for Lady Darfunkle was a grey, formless rain cloud in a pout. It wouldn't do at all.

She had tried multiple times to get the other pony to open up with her, putting emphasis on the fact that the interview process was particularly important in the method of conceptualizing the ideal dress to match the customer. It was to no avail as Lady Darfunkle had simply turned her nose up snootily when Rarity asked about her interests, cutting off the interview prematurely with the statement that she ‘simply wasn’t used to making small talk with commoners.’ If there was one single noun used to describe her that would undoubtedly trigger a torrent of fury, it was being referred to as a “commoner.” When Rarity said it herself, it came out as more of an expletive than a descriptive term. So to say the least, Lady Darfunkle had managed to sabotage her designer’s creative process at every possible avenue. But Rarity had always considered herself to be a professional first, an artist second. She had Sweetie Belle to take care of and her parents, whose income was unstable at best.

Grumpily, but steadily, she carried on: the progress was painstakingly slow. Every few moments she would stop, inspect her work, and let out a dissatisfied sigh. If this sort of order with an apathetic client were less commonplace, she could have powered through it, taking it in stride. This was her fourth such order in a row, and the most aggravating client of the sort.

Truth be told, Rarity felt a bit displaced as of late. Her plans to find “the one” had gone completely awry, and she’d discovered at the same time that the more “elegant life” wasn’t necessarily the one she was suited for. On the opposite end of the spectrum, her friends didn’t quite ‘get’ her either. She appreciated their support after the debacle with Hoity Toity, but really, it was just that: support. They hadn’t liked the dresses, they had simply supported her effort, mostly in apology for the prior disaster.

Their collective support had won back the attentions of the Fashion Guru, but she simply wasn’t a one mare sewing factory. He wanted twenty copies of each dress within a week! To her credit, she had actually survived the schedule both that week and the week following at the high cost of nearing a nervous breakdown. She couldn’t blame him for being pushy with her, but when he demanded she either stop falling behind or sell him the designs, a rift was inevitable. Though she might have not been able to keep up with the demand, trying to bully her into selling the designs was unwise. He may as well have asked her to throw in her actual friends as a group package.

Selling dresses based on her friends was one thing; she took pride in her dresses as well as her friends, and the fact that ponies wanted to buy them was a compliment to both model and seamstress. But forcing her to give them up all together, to allow some other pony to make a dress based only on the logistics of the design, without a thought to the character and soul that laid behind it was a horrifying proposition to the seamstress. That was the crossroads on which her and Hoity Toity parted ways, neither particularly happy with the circumstances but unable to reach a compromise.

The dress was grey, and almost rebelliously common looking. But it was wrapped and gently interwoven with a white silver thread, giving it a randomly reflective quality meant to imitate the moon peeking through the clouds. Rarity had taken Ms. Darfunkle’s somewhat rounded gut into account. The other mare had been sucking in through the measurements, but Rarity had come to expect this from similarly pompous and plump ponies. She tapered it in the back, making sure the dress would drape flatteringly around her client’s somewhat large waist and flank.

She placed bows, lining the natural cloth belt, but... it was still missing that special something. Groaning inwardly, she realized what it was; she needed garnets, and not just any simple garnets would do: grape garnets, ones that would match the sun as it was half risen on the horizon. Of course, she had just been on a gem finding expedition that had discovered such garnets. Nearly perfect specimens, and extremely uncommon in that particular shape. But to give them to her?

As much as her inner self would like to whine, when Rarity realized what she needed to do to complete her artistic vision of a piece, she simply could not do it a injustice. She stood, stretching her forelegs with another high-pitched yawn, trotted to the back of the boutique to retrieve the garnets. Carefully, she mounted them in tiny gray holders around the collar.

“And... done!” She looked at the dress with pride. Considering how little she had to work with, it had turned out swimmingly. "not perfect, of course, but it will do for now."

She looked over to the grandfather clock by the window: 5am, she was on schedule. She was just about to go back to her workspace to clean up, but out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of familiar lavender. Rubbing her eyes with a hoof, she looked again, at first worried she might be hallucinating from sleep deprivation. "No, that is most definitely real. Twilight Sparkle is sitting in the fountain, outside, at five in the morning."

Twilight sipped on the freshly brewed cocoa, uncharacteristically silent. Rarity had beckoned her inside, and practically had to towel Twilight off herself, much to the irritation of the purple unicorn. Uncharacteristically short of words, all she had said when Rarity inquired about her ‘peculiar’ behavior was "...The spa was closed..."

Poor thing. It was almost like her friend was in shock. She grabbed a quilt that was hung on the luxury sofa, draping it around Twilights shoulders. The lavender mare smiled in appreciation, but immediately returned to whatever thought process she was lost in.

Rarity really didn't mind. It was far too late to go to bed and risk sleeping late, possibly missing Lady Darfunkle's appointment. It was also too early to start preparing for the appointment: Unfortunately the awkward allocation of hours was all too commonplace, only made tolerable through patience and learned flexibility. So Twilight’s company didn’t hurt, and more importantly, her friend was obviously distressed. She took a shot in the dark. "So... are things not well with Celestia dear?"

Twilight's head whipped around, attention completely focused on Rarity for the first time, "Why? Have you heard something? Have people been talking-" she stopped. as Rarity shook her head, confused by the sudden clairvoyance. "how did you-?”

The white mare cleared her throat. "While I do hate to bring it up, I seem to remember a certain town wide conflict that occurred over ‘Mr. Smarty Pants’ the last time you looked this upset, and your concerns about Celestia were at the root of that little escapade. It was simply a guess."

Twilight sighed, sipping the hot cocoa and setting it down with a jittery resignation. "I went to Canterlot today to check up on things. I was worried about the Princess. Her responses to my recent letters seemed slower than usual, and then I heard later that Luna gave the speech at the Natural Museum of Pony History opening two days ago; something has definitely been off."

"Are you sure she wasn't just trying to give Luna more royal responsibilities in general?" Rarity frowned.

"Certain. Luna hates doing small events where she has to mingle afterward, so Princess Celestia tries to field most of those herself.”

"What happened when you went to visit?"

The lavender mare looked down at her hooves, biting her lip. "The guards wouldn't let me in."

Rarity almost dropped the cup. "Wh-a, really?" As the favored student of Celestia herself, for Twilight to be turned away at the gates was practically unbelievable.

She twiddled her hooves awkwardly, still looking down. "Yeah. That's pretty much what I said. After I, um-... May or may not have threatened to stand there until they offered me an explanation. I almost instantly received a letter from Celestia the moment I was back at the library. It said, 'Twilight Sparkle, my faithful student. You still have much to learn from me, but for now, I need you to take some time to learn about the powers of independence. Make sure to write me weekly updates." She crossed her forelegs, eyebrows furrowed, "complete blowoff right?"

Rarity suppressed the laugh just in time. This obviously meant a lot to her, but seeing Twilight so indignant towards her typically revered mentor was undeniably amusing. "Possibly. Probably." She could almost see the gears in her friend's head begin to turn with conspiracy theories, and decided it might be best to balance out her opinion a bit. "...But you know, she could very well just want you to work in studies independently. You do rely on her most of the time dear."

The other mare glared at her for the suggestion but relented, considering the possibility. "I guess I have been a little needy. There might be nothing going on. She was overly vague when she told me to make friends here in Ponyville, and that wound up being incredibly important. That was the beginning of everything."

Rarity checked the clock: two hours until the appointment. That was plenty of time to make sure Twilight got home alright (and potentially save the purity of any fountains/large bird baths adjacent to the path.) Regardless of the concerning topic of discussion, the company of her friend had cheered her tired spirits. Cautious optimism began to creep into her outlook. Maybe Ms. Garfunkle won’t be so bad after all.

"Absolutely ABYSMAL!" Ms. Garfunkle practically spat, feathered hat waggling wildly with her speech. "Never in all my years have I paid money to be offered such lackluster drivel!"

The goofy "I made this for you, isn’t it pretty?" look disappeared off of the designer mare's face almost instantly. Dramatic and demanding clients were nothing new, but this one was more dramatic than most, borderline hysterical. The stout, barrel appearance of one "Lady" Garfunkle was practically throwing a tantrum, and it was all Rarity could do to minimize the collateral damage. Her face turned grim, like a war-pony who’d just received word that reinforcements would not be arriving in time. “What exactly do you not like about it?” she asked, her voice even.

“What do I not like? WHAT DO I NOT LIKE? I wanted something to match my coat and mane! This drab color doesn’t go with either! Just my luck that I’d be referred to the ONLY COLOR BLIND SEAMSTRESS IN ALL OF EQUESTRIA.” Lady Garfunkle continued her little tirade, forelegs pinwheeling in the air.

It was almost unbearable for the seething white mare to keep from lashing back, and stating that only a color-blind designer could find something to match her clashing olive green coat and dull pink mane. She had chosen grey because it didn’t have the stigma of black, and didn’t clash like most of the lighter colors would with the problematic coat/mane combination. But apparently that hadn’t been good enough for Ms. Garfunkle.

“And what the hay are these? Absolutely preposterous!” The ungrateful mare snatched one of the grape shaped garnets from their holders, staring at it incredulously. “How gaudy, how utterly tasteless!” Rarity was literally chewing on her on lip now. Garnets of that variety were not cheap, but she hadn’t added a single extra bit to the bill because the revision had occurred after they’d already agreed on a price: the gems had been her own personal touch, and it felt like a gift was being thrown back in her face. Why did things always seem to turn out like this? Suddenly she was trying to blink back tears.

The door slammed open. “WE WOULD LIKE TO KNOW, WHO DARES INSULT THE FAVORED TAILOR OF THE COURT?” Both Rarity and Lady Garfunkle jumped in tandem; the royal Canterlot voice was likely to have awoken the entire village. In the small enclosed shop it was absolutely overpowering. Luna trotted into the Boutique, the picture of poise and grace, right up to Lady Garfunkle who stumbled backwards; The alicorn had obviously overheard most of the conversation. “DOTH THOU THINK HER TASTE IN GARMENTS IS SUPERIOR TO CELESTIA HERSELF? DOTH THY PETTY YEARS AND PORTLY RUMP, GIVE THOU A VIEWPOINT SUPERIOR TO THE TRUE ROYALTY WHO HAS REIGNED FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS???”

Rarity had no clue what was happening, or what Luna was talking about. She was, however, enjoying the sight of the previously snobby Lady Garfunkle now down on her knees before the night princess, blubbering her apologies. Luna dropped the stern look for a moment and grinned at Rarity, touching a hoof to her mouth to make the universal “shhhh” signal. “WHY ART THOU PROSTRATING THYSELF BEFORE US, MORTAL, FOR IT WAS NOT OUR WORK THOU GRIEVOUSLY INSULTED. APOLOGIZE TO THAT ONE, AND ACKNOWLEDGE HER AS YOUR BETTER.”

Lady Garfunkle did as she was told, now blubbering at the white mare’s hooves, and Rarity had to literally hold a hoof over her mouth to keep from laughing. She couldn’t say she had ever seen a noble scurry before, but that’s what Lady Garfunkle did, promptly handing over the bits she owed (plus a generous tip), and bolting terrified out the door. The moment the disgraced noble was out of earshot, boisterous laughter exploded in the boutique

If she had known one of the Co-Rulers of Equestria would be touring her shop, Rarity would have done a fair amount of scurrying herself. Now, in the aftermath of the moment and the emotional rollercoaster that preceded it, she wasn’t intimidated by the princess at all. There was respect, of course, but the layer of fear that had been there on Nightmare Night was completely gone.

“We could not believe that she actually tried to kiss your hooves.” Luna said, still giggling.

“OOooooh I know! and did you see the way her eyes bugged out when you came in? That entrance was positively spectacular. And when you told her she insulted the preferences of Celestia herself, I thought she might have a heart attack right there!” Rarity held a hoof to her ribs and wiped mirthful tears from her eyes. “It was really too much.” She looked over at the dress rack sadly, replacing the garnet that had been so rudely plucked from its holder. She didn’t even take it with her. Humorous as it might have been, for Luna to appear anywhere during the day was extremely uncommon, especially first thing in the morning. Her curiosity was piqued: “So what can I do for you Princess Luna? Anything, anything at all. You got me out of a bind and I’d love to make it up to you.”

She turned and started- Luna was suddenly standing next to her, staring at the dress. “Why do we recognize this? It is the strangest sensation of familiarity.”

It took her a few moments to realize why, but then the answer was obvious “Oh um... -” this was going to be awkward. “I sometimes draw inspiration from nature... it just so happened that I’d been working on this since last night.”

“The moon shining through medium cloud cover, shimmering through the clouds, tiny oblong gems to represent the sun slowly approaching the horizon and chasing away the night. Specifically, last night. How uncanny. Perhaps you can resize this dress for an Alicorn.” Rarity blinked: Luna had hit the nail on the head. Luna turned to her and smiled knowingly. “My work involves a large amount of attention to detail as well, which is often overlooked by the ignorant.”

“That’s probably why she came to my defense so quickly” Rarity understood.

“May I take you up on your offer to do something in return?” Luna asked, her tone turning more somber.

“Of course, shall I gather the others as well?” Rarity asked. She doubted it had anything to do with her specifically, but was caught off guard when Luna shook her head.

“No, this is a matter for you and you alone. The situation requires the utmost secrecy, and you’ll be required to reside in the palace for an allotment of time. We realize this is not a small request, which is why it is merely voluntary, and we will understand if you are not able to fulfill it.” Luna paused, looking around the shop. “We realize that you have a business and life here, and thereby will compensate you fully for your cooperation. You can name your own rate, as they say. I know it’s a bit vague. But...” she gestured around the room, “I can at least tell you it’s something that certainly lays within your field. You would still be relevant to your industry... you could even say you’d be at it’s peak.”

Rarity found the words to be absolutely tantalizing. She thought back to what Luna had said in bluff to Lady Garfunkle, and her heart fluttered a bit, wondering if there was any possible fraction of truth to it. Putting the fantasy aside for a moment, she looked back around at the Boutique. There was never any doubt that she loved her shop, but lately she’d begun to feel trapped in it. Earnings from the castle would more than cover the rent on the building, and if what Luna had said was true, she would be able to come back whenever she needed to.

Well, what’s the worst that could happen? I go, do something fashion related at the castle, get paid, and come back. It’s practically a vacation. She thought about Twilight’s experience, and curiosity overrode any other concerns. It was settled. Opportunities like this didn’t come every day.

“Let me just pack my things.”

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my first fic. A friend of mine said doing a Rarity/Celestia epic was impossible, and thus a wager was formed. But, post break-up, vodka, and viewing of Benjamin Button, I was struck by some really good ideas. I’ll be continuing my other projects as well, but this is much more light in tone than my other short story, so having the balance between the two will be nice. Constructive criticism is always welcome