After that night, we both accepted it — we were in love. Sure, we barely knew each other. But things were going so well between us that we decided to accept it as fate. Whatever else our affair would be, it would be passionate.

At least, that’s how Rarity put it. I would have said it less melodramatically, but I largely agreed.

When I was a filly, I thought falling in love would mean entering a wonderful world of blissful intimacy. And it sort of did. I didn’t sleep in the motel again, and Rarity and I spent hours and hours that week talking, cuddling, and making elaborate, bondage-based love. We went out every night — to eat, to look at those galleries and music shows Rarity had mentioned, and once to see Ponyville’s small but scrappy amateur theatre troupe gleefully butcher Titus Draconequus — it was, without a doubt, the funniest tragedy I had ever seen. I thought she and I would have nothing in common, but Rarity was all about high culture, and my relentless search for intellectual stimulation had brought me into more contact with that than I’d realized.

But Rarity had dresses to make, and there were long, lonely hours where I was left to my own devices in a strange town. Which lead to the biggest problem of all with being in love: my lover’s friends. I hadn’t met Applejack, and I didn’t see the yellow one after the second day — they both worked outside of town. But the others presented challenges. Twilight’s collection of books was legendary, even after losing most of them when her library was destroyed, but after manipulating her into allowing that research expedition, I thought it best to steer clear of her and get my reading material from the local bookstore. Sugarcube Corner was another bushel of pears entirely. I just had to sample their baked goods, and once I did, I was addicted. Unfortunately, this meant talking to Pinkie Pie. She could not get enough of me. If she was at the counter, there was no way I was getting out of there in less than hour. She would ply me with muffins and coffee and talk to me endlessly while she served other customers. Even though I rarely got in five words for every fifty of hers, I still left feeling like I’d been pumped for information. I couldn’t help it, though — I liked Pinkie. Anybody who gave me that much free food was aces in my book.

Rainbow Dash was everywhere. Working for the Equestrian Weather Service apparently involved a lot of lazing around on clouds. Like Pinkie, she was fascinated by me, but unlike Pinkie, she was not charming about it. She’d find me almost every day, and ask me question after question. Shopping downtown? Doing laps in the swimming pond? Reading in Rarity’s bedroom? No place was private. How long was I staying? A week. Was I still seeing Rarity? I’m in her bedroom, aren’t I? What are you reading? The Mare in the High Palace by Horselover Fat. Gee, you’re an awfully good swimmer. Gold medal, 400-meter mares’ freestyle, ’04 Equestria Games. I couldn’t escape the feeling that behind all the questions was the fact that she just could not believe that someone like Rarity would be interested in someone like me. Yeah, well, join the club.

The absolute worst, though, was Twilight’s dragon assistant, Spike. The first time we’d met he’d been arrogant and conceited, but it didn’t seem personal. I had clearly done something to make him angry since I arrived in town, and I had no idea what it was. He was constantly out doing errands for the Princess; we kept running into each other. His rage escalated every time we met. It started with resentful glares, escalated to jostling me in crowds, and moved on to acts of outright terrorism. At Sugarcube Corner Pinkie caught him trying to put salt in my coffee while I was in the bathroom. He sneezed on a shopping bag full of maxi pads and candy bars while I was waiting in line at the market, vaporizing it. He apologized with unconcealed sarcasm, and immediately coughed it back up, light several candy bars and containing a note reading, “Don’t think this was meant for me. Sorry about the candy, couldn’t help myself. —C” which I had framed when I got home.

So, not entirely successful as terrorism, but it was the spirit of the thing.

———

The night before I was supposed to return to Canterlot, Pinkie threw me a party. There were a lot of things I’d rather do than socialize with near strangers — like having goodbye sex with Rarity — but they were Rarity’s closest friends, so I suppose I had to at least try to fit in with them.

Pinkie Pie had definitely been pumping me for information. The food included hushponies like my mom used to make, the rock candy Maud had gotten me into, all my favorite pastries from Sugarcube Corner, and a big bowl of my favorite candy bars — the ones with the peanuts and caramel on the inside. Those are so good!

The music somehow managed to find a balance between my and Rarity’s very divergent tastes. Pinkie’s mix of Rarity’s classical music and melodramatic pop and my Hööfsker Dö and Excitable Colt was pretty groovy. Pinkie had paid attention to everything I’d told her, except the part where I’d explained I was an introvert and really didn’t like parties. Though she had provided a lot of bean bag chairs to make it more comfortable to be a wallflower, so maybe she had listened to that too?

I clung to Rarity’s side for the first hour or so. But after a while she began talking to Twilight about a very troubling topic.

“So,” said Rarity, her voice cautious, “I see Spike isn’t here. How is the poor dear?”

Twilight rolled her eyes and groaned. “Grounded. I caught him searching through the ‘hexes and curses’ section of my private library. Luckily there’s nothing in there a dragon can use. At least, I don’t think he can. But I’ve told and told him not to go in there! There are dangerous books in that room! Dangerous books as in ones with teeth!”

Rarity’s eyes got wide. “Curses? Is he really that upset? He seemed to handle the incident with Trenderhoof well enough, so I thought he’d moved on.”

“Clearly he hasn’t.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. This raised a lot of questions I really didn’t want answered. I told Rarity I was going to go mingle, hit the refreshment table for a neighpoleon and a load of hushpuppies, and found a beanbag. Rainbow Dash was on me almost instantly.

“Hey! So. Great party, huh?” She sat down in a bean bag next to me, holding two bottles of cider. “I brought you a cider.”

“I don’t drink.”

“That’s okay. I can double-hoof.”

The yellow one slinked over behind her beanbag and hunched out of sight behind her, peeking out with a single eye. Was that what I looked like, following Rarity around like a lost puppy all week? I shuddered with self-contempt.

I made eye contact with the yellow one, and she ducked behind her hair. What the buck? We’d talked! She’d altered a dress for me! Not very well, but she tried very hard!

Rainbow took a swig from one of her bottles of cider. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“I gueth tho.” I narrowed my eyes at her. What was it going to be this time?

“Okay, so you’re, like, a rock scientist or something, right?”

“A geologist with a thpecialization in gem thcience.”

“But your cutie mark looks like three pieces of paper. What’s up with that?”

I slouched down in the beanbag and rolled my eyes. “I’m really good at filling out and correctly filing paperwork. It’s a thkill that tranthfers to a variety of fieldth.”

“But how do you know it’s what you’re really meant to do? I mean, what if there’s some specifically paperwork-based job that you’re really supposed to be doing instead?”

I hesitated. What if she was right? It was hardly the first time I’d worried about it. Getting your cutie mark was a pivotal event in any young pony’s life, but it’s not like the things come with a manual. It’d been a long eight years between the night I’d spent filling out refinance paperwork to save my parent’s farm and the day I got my master’s degree. I’d made a lot of decisions in between. Were they the right ones?

“Rainbow Dash, what’re you doin’ to that there poor filly?” Applejack had walked up behind me. I could remember her name from the newspapers. Why couldn’t I remember the yellow one’s name? F-something. Flustercry? Feather Fly? Frizzle Fry?

Rainbow pressed her bottles against her chest defensively. “I was just asking her a few questions. No big deal. I’m just trying to get to know her.”

Applejack frowned. “Yeah? Sounded to me like you were raggin’ on her cutie mark.”

Rainbow blew her forelock out of her eyes. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“And how’d you feel if someone was questioning your cutie mark? Your cutie mark is a lightning bolt. Do you make lightning bolts?”

Rainbow snorted, looking offended. “No! It means I’m fast!”

“So don’t be so literal about hers. Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to comment on somepony else’s cutie mark?”

Rainbow blushed. “Yeah, yeah, I guess.”

“And how’d you like it if somepony you barely knew kept hanging around asking you a lot of annoying questions?” said Applejack.

“I’d notice something really interesting on the other side of the room. Bye.” And she was gone, leaving the yellow one’s eyes poking out from over the edge of the bean bag. Applejack sat down where Rainbow had been, hiding the eyes behind her again.

“Um, thankth,” I said.

Applejack laughed. “Don’t mind Rainbow. She’s a mite prickly at times, but she does mean well.”

“She’th been following me around asking me questionth like that all week! It’s getting on my nerveth.”

“She’s tryin’ to figure you out. Can’t blame her. All of us are, in our own way. We’re a pretty tight-knit group, what with all we’ve been through. And just between you, me, and the wallpaper, Rarity’s crazy about you.” She shifted around so that she could get at her saddlebags. “Mind if I light up?”

I blinked. I did! Smoking was a horrible habit! Good way to kill yourself! Unless she meant… “Um, okay, I gueth. You smoke?” Applejack! Of all ponies! I didn’t know what the law was in Ponyville — it was all over the place since Luna had gotten back. Jail time for possession in Trottingham, totally legal in Vanhoover. The rule in Canterlot was, it was safe to smoke at night, though sellers still had to be careful.

“We all gotta have somethin’,” she said, like she didn’t want to talk about it.

I watched as she pulled a joint and a lighter out of her saddlebag. She held the joint in her mouth, flicked the lighter, and inhaled as the far end of the joint turned red. “Want some?” she asked, holding the joint out to me. I nodded and took it.

The hot smoke filled my lungs. I held it for a while, then blew out. “Thankth.” I handed the joint back. I wasn’t a big stoner, but I had a couple of theatre pony friends who were, so I was hardly unfamiliar.

“You want any, Fluttershy?”

“Yes please.” A hoof rose up over the edge of the beanbag, and vanished behind it with the joint. It rose again several seconds later, along with a dainty puff of smoke.

I sank back down in my beanbag. Everything was starting to look strangely flat, like we were all cartoon characters. AJ’s weed was good. I let out a happy sigh.

“Sure takes the edge off, don’t it?” said Applejack.

The yellow one poked her head up over the edge of Applejack’s beanbag. “My therapist says I shouldn’t self medicate anxiety with drugs, but what does he know? It’s not like he’s a trained mental health professional or anything.”

I giggled. “Hi. I’m Frazzle.”

“I’m Fluttershy.”

That was it. Easy to remember. “Can I be, like, totally honest with you guyth?”

“Of course!” said Fluffysky.

Applejack just raised an eyebrow at me like I’d said the most stupid thing imaginable. Oh. Right! The element!

“Okay, tho, I am utterly and completely freaked the thweet heck out to be here.”

Fluffernutter nodded, here eyes full of sympathy. “I hate meeting new ponies. It’s horrible.”

I sat up straight. The room took a second to catch up. “You guyth have been friends for yearth, and had, like a million adventures together. It’s really thweet of you to have this party for me, but I don’t know if I’m going to get along with all of you.”

Applejack shrugged. “Reckon you don’t have to impress us. If you’re good to Rarity, we’ll be good to you.”

Flittercry had her forelegs up on Applejack’s bean bag by this time. “You seem nice. I like nice ponies.” Applejack handed her the joint, and she took another toke and passed it to me. Before long we were laughing and waving our hooves in each other’s faces.

After a while, Pinkie hopped up on a table in the middle of the room. “All right, fillies! It’s time for games! Rarity said spin the bottle was a bad idea, and I’m not allowed to be around sharp objects right now, so pin the tail on the donkey is out. Also Cranky told me that game is racist, which it kind of is if you think about it, so maybe I need to figure out something else to pin things to. So in the meantime everypony gather around in a circle. We’re doing Truth or Dare!” I squinted at Pinkie Pie. There was something about her. Then I gasped. Why hadn’t I seen it before? Her hair! It was wild. Unruly. Byzantine. Kinkier than Rarity. I had found… a hair sister.

“Oh, this is gonna be the great!” squealed Rainbow, flapping over and dragging Applejack out of her beanbag. Noticing my confused look, she explained, “Truth or Dare with a stoned Applejack is the best. You’ll see.”

———

“Okay, so, I heard Big Mac screamin’ and I ran upstairs, thinkin’ ‘Oh no, something’s happened to Apple Bloom!’ And I came through the door, and I saw Mac standin’ over the changing pad yelling like a bear in a trap, and so I rush up and grab him, and I said ‘Pull yourself together, colt!” And he looks me in the eye and he says, ‘Apple Bloom pooped on me!’ And I realize he’s covered in shit. And I look down at my hooves. And they’re covered in shit. And I hear Apple Boom behind me. Her diaper’s hangin’ off her hind hoof, and she’s dragging it around the floor, trailing shit behind her. And I start screamin’. And Big Mac starts screaming again. And Granny Smith comes rushing around the corner, and slips on Apple Bloom’s trail of shit, and slides right onto us. We all fall onto the changing pad, which is also covered in shit.” Applejack took a deep toke, and went on. “Took us two hours to get it all cleaned up.”

Pinkie Pie’s cheeks were bright green. “That… that was a great story, Applejack.”

“Thank you, Pinkie. ’Course, that ain’t half as disgusting as the time…”

Rarity placed a hoof on her friend’s shoulder. “I think you have adequately answered the question, darling. Why don’t you ask now?”

Applejack nodded. “Rainbow. What’s the grossest thing you’ve ever had in your mouth?”

Rainbow snorted. “Hugh Jelly.”

They all laughed uproariously. I didn’t get it. I nudged Rarity. “What kind of jelly?”

Rarity kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll explain later, darling.” I was sitting next to Rarity, of course. Flakysly was leaning against Rainbow’s right side, and the Princess was leaning against her left, which was a bit shocking to me, but I suppose that it was their business. It could just be a friendly snuggle, and if it wasn’t… well, living in Canterlot gave one an open mind. I was a one-pony pony myself, though. Applejack was to the left of Rarity and me, and Pinkie was on the right.

“So Rarity,” said Rainbow, “Tell us about the best sex you’ve ever had.”

I looked at Rarity, irrational fear clutching my belly. If she said it was with me, would she give details? And what if she didn’t say it was me? I began to gnaw on the edge of my hoof. I knew I was being paranoid. Applejack’s little cigarettes weren’t helping with that.

Rarity just rolled her eyes. “Please, Rainbow. A lady never tells, and she certainly does not compare. I will take a dare.”

Rainbow grinned and pointed at the food table. “See that empty tub of raspberry ice cream?” We all looked. The inside was dripping with melting reddish purple goo. I blushed — I’d gotten the munchies something fierce in the first rounds of the game, and that ice cream had tasted so good smeared on the hush puppies. “Your dare,” continued Rainbow, “is to lick the inside of that tub clean.”

Applejack laughed. “Boy howdy, this is gonna be good!”

Rarity stood and magically pulled her hair into a ponytail. She turned and walked over to the table with the nobility of a martyr going to the gallows. She ducked her head and slid it into the bucket, which was only a little wider than her head. I stared, shocked. But when her head came out, the tub was clean. And so was her face. Her friends cheered. I clapped. Oh, my gosh, Rarity was such an amazing pony!

She sat down next to me again. “I do believe I have a little on my lips, Frazzle dear. Would you be so kind?” We shared a brief but passionate kiss. “Frazzle Rock,” she said, “what trait you like most about yourself?”

I gulped. While we played, I’d been racking my brain for stories. Canterlot was certainly an interesting place, and I had a selection picked out. From relatively innocent to downright salacious, I was ready for any question. Except this one. I sat there with my mouth working soundlessly. I had to think of something. I could not afford to look like an idiot in front of Rarity’s friends.

“Um… I… uh… I like that I’m thmart. I gueth?” It was pushing it. I was a damn silly pony, but there was no denying I was booksmart as buck.

Rarity’s friends nodded. This seemed to satisfy them, thank Faust. Now it was my turn to ask. I’d been so worried about answering questions that I hadn’t really thought about what I would ask once it was my turn. Rainbow had said it was fun to ask Applejack questions when she was stoned. I’d try her. “Tho… uh, Applejack. What have you done that you’re most ashamed of?”

The room was silent. They stared at me, then at each other. They’d forgotten to brief me on something important. Damn them! Applejack hung her head and sighed. “It was the Apple family reunion of ’98. We’d all been hitting the apple brandy pretty hard, and Mac, Braeburn, and I mggggrppphhh”

Rarity had fully stuffed her left forehoof into Applejack’s mouth. “So, I think we can all agree this game’s getting a trifle tedious. Charades, maybe?”

———

I woke up alone in Rarity’s bed an hour before my train was supposed to leave. Luckily I’d packed before the party yesterday, so all I had to do was freshen up, grab my suitcase, and head downstairs. My cycle had begun to abate, so the ride back would be more comfortable than the ride in. Rarity was downstairs, working on a dress. It took us forever to say goodbye — there were kisses, hugs, tears, more kisses, and more hugs. We would miss each other terribly. I had already bought my train tickets to come back next weekend. Yes, I would send her a telegram. Yes, I would miss her.

I stepped out her front door with fifteen minutes to make my train. Just enough. I bumped right into the uncrowned king of Canterlot night life.

“I do beg your pardon, Madam! Terribly sorry,” said Fancy Pants.

“Oh, no. My fault. Thould have been watching where I was going.” I dragged my suitcase around his massive bulk.

“Please, don’t give it another thought. Tell me, young lady, is Miss Rarity at home?”

“Yeth! She’s inthide!” I took off at a trot. I didn’t really want to talk to him. Rarity spoke highly of him, but I had my doubts. His homosexual exploits were legendary in a city that was not easily impressed by debauchery, but he still kept a beard — the lovely Fleur Dis Lee — to give himself an air of fashionable bisexuality. I understood the impulse. I’d gotten more than a few pitying looks when ponies learned that I was only interested in mares. “Monosexual”, they’d say, and shake their heads. But his dishonesty irked me. I could be myself. Why couldn’t he?

I thought of the horror stories Rarity had told me about the backstabbing and dirty dealings she’d seen in the world of high society, and I started to worry. For all her reassurances, I still doubted Rarity’s motives. I gradually slowed from a trot to a walk, to a dead stop. What were she and Fancy Pants talking about?

Eavesdropping was a terrible thing to do. Nothing good ever came of it. I would not spy on my new marefriend. I would not.

I would not.

I left my suitcase abandoned on the Ponyville green, and was crouched underneath one of the Carousel Boutique’s windows seconds later.

Fancy Pants was talking. “Excellent! Then I shall eagerly await your submission.”

“So, that’s business out of the way,” said Rarity, “How have you been, darling?”

“I’ve been well. And you’ve been better then well, if the rumors are to be believed. Finally sampling the Sapphic pleasures, I hear?”

Rarity laughed. “It’s hardly the first time, dear.”

“But never with such conviction!”

I heard the sound of Rarity’s sewing machine starting up. “Frankly I’ve found the choice of gentlecolts available in polite society severely lacking. If I can’t find the stallion of my dreams, I may as well have a go at being him.”

“And robbing the cradle as well! You certainly are full of surprises lately,” said Fancy Pants.

“You have no idea. Anyhow, she’s not as young as she looks. She’s CGS, and they won’t even let you in the door without a master’s degree. Anyhow, what’s half a decade or so between friends?”

“Well, it certainly is intriguing to find a promising young person to mold and guide into adulthood.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you, darling?”

“I suppose I would, at that.” He cleared his throat. “Don’t take this the wrong way — I mean it by way of friendly warning, not criticism — but you certainly can’t bring her out in public as she is. Good lord, did you see what she was wearing this morning?”

“Fancy Pants! I do respect your opinion, but I will do as I please. I find her lovely. Of course, a certain amount of work will have to be done to unlock her true potential. But I have assured her that I love her as she is.”

“A noble sentiment. A noble sentiment indeed. Well. I do have another appointment soon, but I will be in Ponyville for the remainder of the day. Are you free for tea?”

I didn’t wait for Rarity to reply. I bolted back to my suitcase — one can leave valuables unattended for any amount of time in Ponyville — and made my train with seconds to spare. I found my seat, and stared out the window as the train pulled out of the station. My brain kept drifting back to all the wrong parts of the conversation I’d overheard. I should be happy. Rarity had defended me. Sort of. The statement “Of course, a certain amount of work will have to be done to unlock her true potential” and the statement “I love her as she is” were incongruent. What was missing in the equation?

My thoughts windmilled uselessly. I’d had a wonderful time in Ponyville. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. It was hard to believe it was real. Her Ponyville friends seemed to believe that she loved me, and they seemed incapable of guile, or least coordinated guile as a group. But could they be deceived? And if Fancy Pants was one of the ‘good’ ones amongst her fashion world contacts, what would the bad ones be like? And how much influence did they have on Rarity?

Cross ties whizzed past under the train, and with every passing one, my adventure in Ponyville seemed less plausible. Rarity was known in Canterlot society. I wasn’t, but if I dug enough, I might be able to find out what she was really like. Maud knew her. I suppose that was a place to start.

My plan brought me no comfort. I brooded over it, thinking the same thoughts over and over, until I fell asleep with my face pressed against the window glass.