Nearly stabbing herself with the final stitch, Rarity realized how excited she was; it was good. really really good. She was probably the happiest she’d been with her work in years.

The dress was everything she’d imagined it to be. Her inspiration for this particular design had been the lightly frothing river that ran along the edge of the castle, white overall, with turqoise underlying layer and diagonal turquoise and white stripes below the waist. She had wanted to make the primary color turquoise, but had settled for white, knowing that a more colorful dress would draw extra attention to Celestia, whose garb had been fairly conservative up to that point.

Aria’s ‘lessons’ had been hard, and her oversight punishing, but this was possibly the most beautiful dress she had ever created, thanks in no small part to the self-imposed mentor. All that was left was to show it to Celestia. Celestia’s approval was everything. This was all for her, after all.

It would have been an incredibly exciting moment if it was just her first dress for royalty, but now, her first dress for royalty in an incredibly daring, striking new style? It gave her chills. Rarity did a giddy circle around the display, making sure everything was in its proper place. She had taken a more minimalist approach with the gems of the piece; using a single rounded, well cut sapphire as a broach. The fabric that acted as its holder was white, reflecting the intended cloudiness of the moving river into the gem itself. She placed the display behind a curtain, readying it for a dramatic reveal, and went about the workroom, cleaning. All previous thoughts of cleanliness had fallen by the wayside before the dress was complete; Now that it was, she was rather ashamed of herself, it looked like a bomb had gone off, much to the collateral damage of various fabrics, papers, and inks, scattered about. It was difficult not to be overly reflective as she worked, realizing that it wasn’t simply the discovery of new potential that had driven her into this mania. It was the princess herself. The immediacy of the situation had created a new purpose for Rarity, a sense of real need that she had never felt before. Something about how the Princess valued the way image was projected to the kingdom resonated with her, made her feel like she was suddenly operating at the highest levels of a craft she had only seen echoes of before. She was needed here. And better yet, she was good at it.

There was a knock at the door. It was all she could do to suppress a squeal.
“One moment,” she did a once around the room, making sure everything was in its proper place, stacking a few rolls of fabric with her magic as she trotted to the door

Celestia was absorbed in thought. deja vu was fairly common for her, unsurprisingly she was likely to encounter it practically anywhere she went, but this feeling in particular was different. Coming down to the workroom to view the work of a pony who wanted nothing more than to see a smile on her face was almost crushingly reminiscent, a feeling she tried to squash the moment it arose.

It still felt like it was only yesterday, even though in reality it had been centuries past. She had already resigned herself to being happy with whatever the designer mare had prepared for her; Rarity was nothing if not competent, well versed with the current trends of fashion. Celestia disliked the modern look; it was one reason, of several, that she had not bothered with ornate garb in quite some time. One of the innate blessings of being a semi-deity, she mused mirthlessly, was that no one ever dared to ponder whether or not a goddess was under-dressed. There had never been a doubt whether or not the designer mare would have been able to create something that covered her current state of weakness adequately, but the level of secrecy that had been adhered to was unprecedented, a rather maddening development for Celestia. It had been a long time since anypony had tried, and succeeded in keeping secret from her.

Even Luna had been tight-lipped, though she suspected that was more due to the recent debacle. Since that rather embarrassing series of events, she resolved herself to be patient, spending more time with the unicorn, rather than pushing her directly. As mixed as her motives may have been, the result was surprisingly pleasant: Rarity was far wiser than she initially appeared, and shared a surprising number of similarities to herself. Unlike the upper echelon of society, whose masks became so second nature they overshadowed the typically small and petty pony beneath them; Rarity’s mask was simply a caricature of herself, a manipulative tool, completely separated from her personal identity. When she had seen Celestia’s faults, she had not recoiled… rather drawn closer, recognizing that there was no need for masks when she herself had, in many ways, become the architect of Celestia’s image.

The new level of closeness had made things difficult. Celestia was troubled every time she thought about it: It was one thing to deceive an associate of inferior rank; but habitually lying to a friend was an entirely other issue. It was more of a question of whether the alabaster mare would operate better in ignorance, as opposed under the full weight of responsibility that full-disclosure would entail.

Voicing this concern to Luna the previous night had not helped with her indecision in the slightest. Her sister’s half-awake advice had been equally murky. “She is far more observant that you give her credit for. She may not know specifics if you choose to withhold them, of course, but one would be a fool to call her ignorant.”

There was no missing the underlined jab. Celestia bit back a retort. Her sister’s advice rang true, Rarity had become so much more crucial than before, as well as precious to her personally, and leaving someone so involved in the dark would just be cruel, would it not?

Lost in thought, Celestia arrived at the workshop door, her inner distractions leaving her dangerously unaware of the impending storm.

“Celly! Thank you so much for coming,” She nuzzled the alicorn in friendly greeting, heart racing a mile a minute. There was only so much one could prepare for, but to her irritation, the sound of rain triggered a series of lightning fast realizations: ‘What? That’s going to ruin the lighting! Oh well it can’t be that big of a storm can it? It was so bright only moments ago. No matter, this is it. The dress can stand for itself.

Celestia smiled at her playfully, “You’ve certainly managed to hold my interest. I’m sure with the level of confidence you’ve displayed you’ll meet my typical high expectations.” the Unicorn’s face suddenly fell, and Celestia tried to reassure her, “I’m joking my dear, I’m sure I’ll be happy with whatever you’ve prepared.”

Rarity shook her head vigorously, “No! I want you to give me your complete, unfiltered, honest opinion. I took a lot of risks with this design.” She indicated a place for the Alicorn to sit and took her place beside the curtain, unable to resist the goofy grin that always formed during a big reveal.

She threw the curtain back like a show-pony magician, complete with twirling flourish, and a cheesy “viola!”

A flash of lightening illuminated the dress, temporarily obscuring the unicorn’s vision. Rarity thought she had prepared for every possible reaction. She knew that there was a possibility Celestia would dislike the certain borrowed elements from the old style, or that Celestia might just dislike it in general

As her vision cleared from the flash, for a moment her heart stopped entirely. There was no preparation for this.

The Princess of Equestria

Divine and unflappable

Her dear friend

Gazed upon her work

And wept.

“Please say something…”

There were no words. There was no response. Not so much as a sob. Celestia could have been a statue, save the tears streaming down her face. Rarity wanted to run away, put as much distance between her and this mistake she had made as possible. These were not tears of joy, she could tell the difference, these were tears of grief. Of Pain: Pain that she had caused, inflicted, because she’d been too stupid and prideful to get a second opinion. ‘You never thought it through, Rarity, you never even considered the possibility...’ she silently lambasted herself, the epitome of self-loathing.

Celestia’s lips formed a word, one that was not spoken so much as whispered, her voice was almost completely unrecognizable, labored with sorrow and regret:
“Aria..”

Rarity was running, gasping for breath, mane askew. It wasn’t until rain splashed across her face that she realized she was outside, but her pace only quickened despite the rain pelting her body, soaking into her coat. She didn’t care, surprisingly apathetic to the long term phobia. Guilt drowned out her usual pet peeves, leaving her surprisingly numb.

The Princess was in so much pain already; she had seen it every day for weeks. Celestia did her best to hide the discomfort but Rarity had seen it, day in, and day out. Yet she never cried. Even legends stated ‘the sun never cried’, which surely was an exaggeration, yet legends always stem from a bit of truth.

Rarity had inadvertently broken the resolve of a Goddess. She had lashed out blindly, irresponsibly grasping at new heights, and her short-sightedness had torn open an old wound of a Princess. No, not just a princess. A loved one.

‘Aria, what did you make me do!?’

‘Rarity... You did this to yourself.”

The imagined answer only propelled her to a full gallop into the yawning darkness, eyes stinging from far more than rain. She knew the voice was right, but trying to outrun it was significantly easier than accepting it. She slipped, her glasses flying into the undergrowth. For a few moments she searched in vain, her eyes still adjusting to the lack of glasses and lighting. Slowly, she stood, realizing in the process she had possibly sprained her foreleg. The surrounding area was disorienting: dark, claustrophobic, and overgrown. It was familiar, however, and realization of her location triggered an involuntary groan: ‘The hedge-maze...’ immediately she thought of Discord, bickering amongst friends, and Tom: the biggest diamond she had ever seen, (which tragically, did not turn out to be a diamond,) it was a completely miserable series of events. It went without saying that all previous memories of this place were not pleasant ones.

Everything froze for a moment, as a familiar, slithery voice interjected, cutting her off in mid-thought:

“It’s not so bad after a couple of decades, you know...” The voice was ethereal, and definitely familiar. She spun in multiple circles, trying to identify location of the voice.
“...Discord” she hissed, searching the dark corners of the labyrinth, adrenaline kicking in. Ironically, she was far more angry than scared.

“Well, what do you want? Manage to free yourself from your little statue again?” It was probably unwise to mock the formless demon, but she was far past the point of wisdom. Soaking wet, in the middle of a hedge-maze, Rarity was not in the mood to buck around.

It took him a few moments to respond, playfulness replaced by an irritated hiss, “If you actually shut your mouth, you might learn something, little unicorn”

She snorted audibly, almost prancing through the maze; Dealing with an impotent demon seemed like a cake-walk, as opposed to dealing with the fact that she had wounded Celestia. She almost welcomed the opportunity. Bravado came easily when she her blood ran hot. “Learn something? from you? I mean really, despite goddess knows how many years to plan your revenge, you opened up with chocolate rain clouds and managed to make me carry a big rock-” a small shudder at the memory of tom might have betrayed her uneasiness, but she pressed on, letting her anger carry the bluster. “-and you even managed to fail at that. A truly terrifying plan indeed.” She enjoyed the long silence that followed, continuing to idly follow the hedge maze, dark green corridors stretching out for miles in front of her.

A single question squelched her elation, sending a chill up her spine.
“So tell me, Rarity, since you seem to know me oh so well. Why would I even bother making an effort to destroy what is doomed to collapse on itself?

Righteous anger she had felt so purely earlier was suddenly mingled with fear. If Celestia hadn’t told her she didn’t need to know... and yet...

“No smart remark? Now, since you’ve decided to hold your tongue, let me ask you a question more to your liking: What happens to a dress, if it ‘misplaces’ it’s stitching?

The underlying meaning of the oblique metaphor was lost on her, though the simple answer was clear. She kept a steady pace, stopping every once and a while to get her bearings, trying to pay as little attention to the eerie conversation as possible

“It’s no longer a dress,” she murmured, “It all falls apart. But stitching doesn’t just disappear all at once-”

“Exactly. It takes years. It’s a very long drawn out process... isn’t it? but eventually the stitching begins to tear, fray, wear down. If you repair it, you have a new problem: the cloth itself eventually needs to be patched, entire sections replaced if you’re really dedicated; Inevitably, though, all you’ll be left with is a tattered rag! a shadow, a mere fraction of what it once was.”

The metaphor was taking a turn for the disturbing, aggravating a nagging doubt that had laid dormant in the back of her head since the first argument. Celestia had “explained” everything: but her reason for excluding Twilight defied logic. Twilight was intelligent, rational, completely capable of taking things in stride... in fact the only thing Rarity could imagine truly sending Twilight it to such the potentially dangerous frenzy Celestia described was...
If there was some other source of her ailment; If it was serious, fatal even, but something so powerful that even Twilight couldn’t face it.

Too powerful for Twilight...
The reality of the situation hit Rarity like a ton of bricks. Frustration she had pushed aside and fears she had tried to ignore all converged on her simultaneously. She was in over her head. Rarity collapsed onto her rump without a thought to the dignity of it, all intention of finding her way out of the maze temporarily crippled in worry. The ground was soggy, and she was all too aware of the mud now caking on her legs. Her tears began to flow again, lost in the downpour.

There was nothing special about her, nothing fair in this. Making ponies look pretty was her life’s work, not this: Discord, Alicorn secrets, the fate of Equestria; She just wasn’t equipped to deal with it. She wasn’t good enough. Rarity rolled up in a ball, willing the rain to flood the hedge maze, taking her somewhere far, far away in the process. Discord’s final words imparted little comfort; “Ask her about the Sepulcher, little mare. Ask her why she refuses to face it.”

The unicorn finally lost consciousness, darkness taking her in it’s merciful embrace, and Rarity knew no more.

She was floating, somewhere, disconnected in space. There was a feeling of being cradled by something much bigger than herself, something warm. It sang gently, with the most beautiful voice she had ever heard.

Slowly, it lowered her into warm water, careful to hold her head above the surface, a soothing sensation running through her mane, her coat, each of her hooves, meticulous as it was thorough. Kindness emanated through it’s every motion, gentleness in it’s touch. The warm light lifted her again, drying her gently, placing her on something soft, holding her close. Even teetering on the edge of consciousness, the feeling was unmistakable.

It felt like home.

The formless voice began to tell a story, its playful rythm both bard-like and exquisite: The ballad was about an earth pony, with a coat as white as snow, and a mane the color of the morning sky. ‘Her name was Aria. A foal left on the castle steps, the kind mistress had taken her in, and cared for her as her own. When the mistress inquired, the foal was embarrassed to confess that she didn’t know the date of her own birthday, a revelation that, to her surprise, delighted the mistress to no end: ‘See, we have so much in common!’ the mistress exclaimed, forever marking that very day as the day they would celebrate together, a birthday for those who had none.

The filly taught herself to patch her doll’s clothing, determined to be self-sufficient, and as such developed a surprising dexterity with a needle. This did not escape the Mistress’ eye, and for her next birthday, the filly was given every tool a seamstress could desire.

You see, the mistress had never had a daughter, a foal to call her own. Throughout thousands of years children had been an enigma to her, duty had never allowed for such pleasures. Aria was a gift, a daughter she had never had, cutting through the calculated distance the mistress had kept between herself and everyone else for so long. A lesser filly would have been spoiled by the gift, but not Aria. It gave her purpose: She would become the Royal Seamstress, and serve beside the mistress for the rest of her life, being near her a happiness of it’s own. But as with all things mortal, this feeling did not last. As she reached her marehood, she became even more beautiful: her suitors were many, but none of them were ever satisfactory. It took time, but soon she realized she desired the mistress as a lover; she did not feel worthy, however: as the mistress had given her everything she knew, to even say such a thing aloud would have been the height of selfishness. But perhaps, she could show her love another way. Aria poured her heart into her designs, her work almost above reproach:

But the Mistress, eyes dimmed by time, did not notice.

‘What a beautiful dress,’ she would say, completely unaware of the message behind it.

Aria worked even harder, traveling in secret by chariot to the seven wonders of Equestria, observing other famous places of beauty, looking to find the secret that would best show her love. Inspiration took her over, and, like a mare possessed, she worked. ‘This one is the one’, she would write in her diary, ‘today is the day!’

But the Mistress did not notice.

‘What a beautiful dress,’ she would say, unaware of the travels and the toils her ‘daughter’ had taken. Blissfully ignorant of the wounds her careless words inflicted.

But Aria did not hate her for it, never for a moment. Her diary was free of malice, though it weighed heavy of hopelessness. But she could not burden the mistress with her longing. The careless words became a mantra of love-unrequited;
‘What a beautiful dress,’ she would say, forever oblivious to the heart broken Aria

After years of watching this routine with cruel glee, a trickster bound in the garden statue offered her the guidance she sought, a promise, which was likely too good to be true. ‘She created the beauty of Equestria,’ the trickster said, ‘things you make petty mockeries of, and you expect her to see your love through them? No, that is a fools errand. Instead, seek out the darkest cave, in the deepest part of the Everfree. There you will find something hidden, something she would never trust any mortal to see. Show her you can look upon the most horrid, wretched part of her, and love her just the same.

“So she left a note, as well as all her diaries that had accumulated over the years... and the mistress never saw her again.”
Celestia’s voice was shaking by the time she had finished the story.

Rarity opened her eyes, realizing at once she was in the Princess’ personal quarters. She turned over, and gazed into the grieving Alicorn’s haunted magenta eyes, their faces inches apart. She wasn’t sure what to say, instead she opted to gently kiss the imminent tears away before they fell. “She was really your first foal?”

Celestia stared at the ceiling, focusing on it so intensely it almost looked like she was trying to burn a hole through it. Her mouth opened, closed along with her eyes, and opened again.

“In a way, yes. In the beginning, though I cannot remember the details, Luna and I were far more involved with our creations. Eventually this became counter-productive: we were doing more harm than good, coddling, favoritism, and constant interference became very damaging to the autonomy of all ponies. So we became more deistic, aloof, letting centuries flit by as we watched the results of our actions. That did not end particularly well either; thus, we decided to take a more active role in the world again. There were still occasional problems, but significantly less than the other two approaches. After Nightmare Moon was banished, I tried to maintain the same distance; but in my loneliness I became weak. Aria was my breaking point, part of what made me a Pony again. Suddenly I was no longer living from year to year, but rather from day to day. Every moment was suddenly precious. Ponies had always said having foals changed your perspective, but I never really understood it until I met Aria. She was...”

“... Really special.” Rarity finished. Noticing Celestia looking at her with a inquiring eyebrow, she quickly explained what she’d learned and observed from Aria in the last few weeks: How the Royal Seamstress was completely ahead of her time, the similar styles they shared, the brilliance that emanated in Aria’s final designs, and how every outfit was custom built to compliment a lightly colored Alicorn.

When she had finished recanting, Celestia had the misty eyes of a proud parent, utterly appreciative of the Unicorn’s perceptiveness. “You know, I was actually thinking that it was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. It just reminded me of her so much the feeling was overwhelming.”

Rarity understood, offering quietly, “I can always make you another dress dear, if-”

Celestia put a hoof to her lips, nuzzling her gently. “Not in this lifetime.” The Alicorn pecked her on the cheek and pulled back quickly with a smile, leaving Rarity sputtering and blushing in response.

“I think I should try it on right now. She dismounted the bed gracefully, and Rarity’s heart swelled when she saw the princess had taken the time to move the dress and manikin up from the workroom. Deftly removing it with magic, Celestia put her forelegs through, then looked at Rarity with a mock helpless look, “I seem to be stuck, my dear Rarity, whatever shall I do?”

The unicorn walked over, glaring at her playfully. “How very uncouth, princess.” A strange tingling hit her, there was always something erotic to the act of putting on another pony’s clothes, despite the irony that they spent most of their time naked regardless. The mood was borderline smoldering: Celestia said nothing more as Rarity gently manipulated her body to fit properly. She tugged the left wing gently through the proper slot, doing the same with the right wing, then zipping the back gently so as not to accidentally pinch the alicorn’s coat

The princess stepped away, both of them observing her new look in the hanging mirror. Rarity was barely able to suppress an inner victory dance; her main concern, matching the turquoise in the princess’ mane had been completely unwarranted. It was the exact shade. But looking at it overall... she nearly swooned where she stood, knees suddenly wobbly. Yes the dress was great, but Celestia looked absolutely gorgeous. Gone was the friendly, under the weather pony. The alicorn before her wore the dress like a queen: Regal in both air and figure. “... It’s... you’re...” Rarity’s breath was almost literally taken away.

Celestia did a spin, turning to face her “Viola!”

Realizing that her little showmanship earlier was being mocked, Rarity managed a wry smile, still trying to catch her breath. “I would say... in that dress... your flourish was far more impressive than mine...”

In an abrupt change of moods, the alicorn suddenly turned back to the mirror, her face becoming serious again. She fiddled with the dress, lost in thought. For a moment, Rarity felt guilty, wondering if she was thinking of Aria.

“Two hundred years is a long time to mull over something. You tend to cut through the moping fairly quickly, and get right to the lesson.”

Rarity nodded, still a bit unsure where the other mare was going.

Putting a hoof to the sapphire brooch, Celestia smiled, appreciating its careful placement. “My time with Aria taught me a single, invaluable lesson. I promised myself that I would never take another moment for granted again.” Her tone began to pick up a hypnotic quality, “When I was looking for you in the gardens, I felt a panic in my chest: a tight squeezing, an unrelenting force pushing me forwards. Living day by day is one thing, but the moment I thought I might lose you, time stopped entirely. Seconds became minutes, minutes became hours, and hours became utterly excruciating. If I hadn’t found you, I have no doubt I could have lived several lifetimes lost in that night, wasting away in agony”

Rarity could scarcely believe her ears, there were more butterflies in her stomach now than when she was a filly. Her body was responding similarly to the other night, but more intensely: a pure heat, radiating over her, pushing her forwards, driving her mad.

Celestia turned to her, conviction in her eyes “I honestly don’t know how much time we have. In a lot of ways it’s impossible to now that, especially now. but I don’t want to waste a moment... I need to know-” but she suddenly faltered, looking down.

Rarity put a hoof under her chin, gently lifting the alicorn’s head to eye level with hers, “...need to know what, Celly?” she prompted gently, unable to tear her gaze away from the beautiful magenta eyes.

“Do you love me, Rarity?”