Rarity paused to look out one of the large windows, and sighed at the gloomy sight of the clouds. She had heard that the spring weather throughout Steurope could get like this, sometimes, but Prance was supposed to have fine and warm weather. The lack of cheer was not conducive to inspiration.

The primary wedding dress, though, was almost complete. Rarity believed that it was some of her finest work, but it had to be. It was the keystone of the entire wedding, or at least the part that she was responsible for. Fleur’s dress would determine how the bridesmare’s dresses were made, as well as influence the decoration and overall thematic nature of the wedding. It had to be perfect, and Rarity understood the responsibility that had been placed on her.

It would still take several more days of tuning to get that dress perfect, and then perhaps another week to assemble the rest of the dresses including hers and Sweetie Belle’s. The work was monumental, but Rarity kept finding herself growing more and more tired. The bruises on her body were fading, but she still felt nauseous sometimes and she got tired easily. In her youth, Rarity had occasionally suffered from anemia, and this felt surprisingly similar. She had attempted to compensate by eating more, but that only seemed to make it worse.

Silver did not seem to be affected, though. He was the only source of cheer under the overcast sky, and after their joint experience in the pond and in front of the fire after, Rarity had come to value him and their teamwork much more. He also seemed more happy than before, and Rarity even caught him returning her flank-staring with some of his own.

Rarity quickly went back to some of the lace preparation on the dress. After several minutes of painstaking sewing with the finest of silk threads, she hardly noticed that Fleur had entered the room.

“Ah!” she said, looking up with a bit of surprise. “Fleur! I’m so glad you’re here. I need to fit the waist, and then we need to finalize the train attatchment points. We wouldn’t want you to chafe on your wedding day, now would we!”

“Rarity,” said Fleur, sounding quite serious. “Are you feeling well?”

“I’m feeling fine, darling. Why?”

“Because you look…unwell. Are you sure you don’t need to rest?”

Rarity felt herself grinding her teeth. “I look fine. And I’m not getting tired. This is my job, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I do not want to be the mare who works you into your grave. Not over this, it is not worth it. We all have physical limitations. Our bodies, they grow weaker as our wisdom and insight increases.”

“Thank you for your concern,” said Rarity, trying- -and failing- -to not sound curt. “Now, if you could, lift your leg and let me affix the lower- -”

“Rarity. I need to talk to you. May I?””

“Oh?” Rarity set down her thread and the lower part of Fleur’s dress. “About what?”

“About what? About what happened yesterday!”

“Oh,” repeated Rarity. “Do we have to?”

“Yes! I cannot bear the level of shame I feel for having allowed such a thing to befall you!”

“It was an accident,” dismissed Rarity. “And you DID save my life.”

“But is that enough? Rarity, I am not sure what happened- -”

“I am. I let myself get too tipsy, and I slipped into the pond like a fool. It is quite embarrassing, but it is over now.”

“I would understand if you wanted to leave,” said Fleur, bluntly.

Rarity had been picking up a pair of scissors and a sketch pad, and both dropped from her magic when Fleur spoke. “What?”

For a moment, she thought she saw a thin smile flicker over Fleur’s lips. “I just mean that after what occurred, I understand that you must not want to stay. And as much as I value you and your beautiful work, I can tolerate your departure from this project.”

“Tolerate? D- -departure?”

“Of course,” sighed Fleur. “Who is to say? Perhaps this task could fall to a different designer? You have been established in this field for so long. I could give the opportunity to a new designer. A younger one, up and coming, with different ideas and a need for such a hoofhold in the industry. Things may be different from when you first entered, but these days it can be hard for young designers.”

“Nonsense!” cried Rarity, her voice becoming unusually high. “At the risk of sounding prideful, no pony is better for this than me!”

“Because you have so many years of experience?”

“I don’t have THAT many years of experience,” corrected Rarity. “But yes. And because I know you, and what you want. I’ve already started this, and I am darn well going to finish it!” She cupped her hooves over her mouth. “Please excuse me!” she cried. “My language!”

“Oh, no worries,” said Fleur, now smiling much more widely. “It’s just that I am counting on you so very much for this! Not to mention what this could mean for you!”

“For me? You mean attending the wedding?”

“That, and that your work will be showcased to all the nobles of Equestria! Or at least all those willing to attend. Which is most, there are so few of us left these days.”

“Most…of the nobility?” Rarity gulped. She had not consciously realized that aspect of this event, even if she had understood it intuitively.

“And they can be…picky? Is that the word?”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“In fact…do you recall the name Finé Velour?”

Rarity’s eyes lit up. “Of course I know that name! What student of haute couture wouldn’t recognize his name, let alone his work!” Rarity paused. “But…he vanished from public appearances years ago, when I was just a filly. He never even grants interviews. Nobody has seen him in…” Rarity’s eyes suddenly widened, and she gasped so loudly that Silver almost dropped the accessories he was fitting. “You don’t mean!”

“I’m afraid so,” sighed Fleur with a knowing nod. “His last work is not public knowledge, but I have seen it. It was the wedding dress of the matron of House Sabethes. I have a picture.” She produced a small photograph and levitated it to Rarity. Rarity took it in her own magic and was immediately glad that she could hold the picture without using her hooves, as she needed to use them both to keep herself from vomiting on her friend.

“Sweet Celestia’s divine solar rump!” squeaked Rarity.

“I know,” said Fleur, taking the photograph back. “And the Sabethes are known for being remarkably traditional, if…odd. That dress ruined his career. Everypony who was anypony in Society claimed that he had grown too old, too out of touch. That he was, how do you say, a ‘has-been’, that his days of success had been replaced with a complete inability to read modern trends, and a stagnation of creativity.”

“That’s- -that’s terrible!” Rarity was now breathing hard with fear. She remembered Finé Velour from the magazines she used to read as a girl: he had been a short but stately white earth-pony with an exquisite long mane, always appearing in fine suits. In those days, he had been one of Rarity’s fashion heros. To know that he had gone out like that was terrifying, but what made it worse was that his last public show had been when he was no older than Rarity was now.

“I won’t fail,” said Rarity. “And I won’t give up. I would even so far to as to give you a Pinkie Promise: I will not leave until you have the very best wedding conceivable!”

Fleur looked confused. “Pinkie…promise?”

“Ah. Never mind,” said Rarity. She started going back to her work, her resolve reinforced and her fear at least quadrupled in comparison to what it had been before Fleur had talked to her. As encouraged as she was, she still felt oddly bad. “You just need to know that this dress WILL be completed.”

“Indeed it will,” said Fleur, smiling. Since Rarity was facing away from Fleur, she did not see Fleur’s eyes slowly fall to her flank.

She only stared for a moment, though, before turning to Silver Sight.

“Silver,” she said. “As much I know you like working with Rarity, can you help me with something, just for a moment? I require assistance moving something.”

“Oh,” said Silver, putting down his work. “Of course, Lady De’Lis! I would be happy to help!”

Fleur smiled again, and the two of them exited, leaving Rarity all alone with nothing but her work before her.

Sweetie Belle burst into the castle, and by then she was already soaking wet. The rain had begun just as she had reached the castle walls, and it had increased quickly. It was late afternoon, but the thick clouds in the sky made it nearly as dark as night outside.

Almost immediately, she started coughing. The process was painful, and she felt as though something inside her was being torn as she did. She felt a large amount of something wet hitting her hoof, and tasted metal, although she did not look down to see what had happened. She did not want confirmation of the fact that her illness was getting worse.

Despite this, her resolve remained firm. She ascended the staircases in the foyer, barely noticing that she was dripping water behind her. After reaching the top, she headed into the inside of the castle, searching for somepony else- -and, critically, somepony who was not Feathery Snipper.

She almost jumped when she actually did encounter a pony. After only a few seconds of searching, Sweetie Belle saw Fleur approaching through one of the darkened corridors that led to the old section of the castle. The gas lamps had been lit, but lightning flashed suddenly and illuminated the entire arcade with a sudden burst of white light, and for just a moment Sweetie Belle realized just how similar Fleur looked to the mysterious pale stallion that she had seen previously.

“Fleur!” cried Sweetie Belle, running toward the tall unicorn. “Fleur! I need to talk to you! I think you’re in danger! I think we all are!”

“Danger?” Fleur looked genuinely concerned. “Danger from what? Wait.” A smile slowly crossed her face, and Sweetie Belle’s already fast heartrate suddenly picked up again. Something was not quite right about that smile. “Please, let us not talk of it here. Come with me.”

Sweetie Belle did not understand why Fleur wanted to go somewhere else, but she justified it as being because Fleur did not want to be overheard. Which meant that she might have already known, at least partially, what was going on.

They did not go far. Fleur led Sweetie Belle down a dark and unlit hallway into a large room. As Fleur ignited the lamp, Sweetie Belle saw that it was an unused guest bedroom. It was not unlike the one she had been assigned, complete with fine furniture and an almost preposterously large bed, except for the fact that its geometry in the castle left it without windows.

“Here,” said Fleur, opening a closet and pulling out some extra towels from the top shelf. “You are soaking wet. That can be alluring, of course, but you still look as though you are about to have the pneumonia. Also, something to drink?”

“Thank you.” Sweetie Belle took the towels as well as a small bottle that Fleur had produced from one of the cabinets in the room. Sweetie Belle dried herself, and took a sip from the bottle. Whatever it was had a bizarre taste, but it was sweet and good and made her feel a little better.

“Now,” said Fleur. “What is it that you came in such a hurry to explain to me?”

“It’s Feathery Snipper,” said Sweetie Belle, quickly. “I was in the village when I found out- -”

“The village! Oh my! Little Sweetie Belle, that is not a place for you to go alone! Nor should you have a need to! Those common ponies can be…simple.”

“But I was there,” said Sweetie Belle, trying to gloss over that part of her journey while making sure not to point out that Muguet had been with her. “And I found out something about Feathery Snipper!”

“Well, yes. I’m sure you did. She has a strong rapport with the villagers.”

“If by ‘rapport’ you mean they’re terrified of her! Because she used to be some kind of radical in the east- -Vostok, whatever that is, but I think it just means ‘East’- -and that she hates white unicorns. There was a revolution there, and they killed the nobility!”

“I am familiar with the revolution,” said Fleur. “House Roman and House De’Lis are close cousins. Well, all noble houses are cousins, but they were closer. They were also weak. If the peasantry could overtake them, then they are not worthy of ruling, no?” She paused. “This may seem harsh, but it is our way. Being nobility is sometimes taxing, and sometimes fatal.”

“But Snipper was one of the soldiers that took them down! And I think she’s going to try something against us too!”

“Feathery?” Fleur laughed. “Oh, no! Feathery would not do that! I have known her for many years. Her elder brother was my favorite, my very best servant. And she is as effective in some respects. I hired her years ago to protect my mother’s gardens while I lived in Canterlot. As with Silver and Muguet, I trust her dearly. Perhaps even more than the younger two.”

“But she was chasing me in the village! And I think she pushed Rarity into the pond, and there’s something in the food- -”

“Sweetie Belle,” said Fleur, putting her hoof against Sweetie Belle’s cheek. For some reason that made Sweetie Belle feel unusually uncomfortable. “Don’t worry. I have this under control. Everything is going to be all right.”

“But it isn’t! Fleur, we have to do something! We have to- -”

Suddenly, Fleur bent her neck low and pressed her lips against Sweetie Belle’s. Sweetie Belle’s eyes widened in shock, because she had no idea what was going on or what to do. Really, she more or less froze, and she could feel Fleur’s tongue push past her teeth and rub against her own.

Terrified and disgusted, Sweetie Belle shot backward, gasping.

“Aw,” said Fleur, sounding disappointed. “You did not like? Fancy Pants tells me that I am an excellent kisser.”

“Why- -why the buck did you just do that?!”

“Why would I not? You are just so adorable!” The strange smile crossed her face again, and she took a step toward Sweetie Belle, causing Sweetie Belle to take a step back. Then Fleur gasped. “That was not your first, was it?”

“No,” lied Sweetie Belle. “It’s just- -you can’t do that! I’m only twelve! And- -and you’re a mare!”

“You’re almost thirteen. And how old would you say I appear? Nineteen? That is only a six year age difference, it is nothing at all. And such discourse between two white unicorns is never wrong.”

It felt wrong, though. Sweetie Belle felt horrible. She was both strangely frightened, as well as disgusted. Not at Fleur herself, exactly; she was still just as beautiful as ever. It was more like she felt dirty, and betrayed. Fleur was supposed to be her friend, and now she was doing things that Sweetie Belle knew were wrong. She just wanted to cry.

“It was only a kiss,” said Fleur, suddenly a bit defensive. “And we can kiss more, if you want.” She stepped to the side and gestured toward the bed with her horn. “Lay down with me, won’t you? You are so young, and so pure. We can kiss more.”

“No!” Sweetie Belle had tried to shout, but it had only come out as a high cracking squeak. She turned and raced toward the door, reaching for the knob with her magic. Almost immediately, though, the door was surrounded in blue light as Fleur’s own horn ignited. Sweetie Belle pushed, but it did not open.

Almost on instinct, Sweetie Belle began running counterspells to break Fleur’s grip. To her astonishment, though, the door remained sealed, even as she moved up the list that Twilight had taught her to the most powerful one she knew. It was obvious that Fleur was not even attempting to adjust her spell to resist Sweetie Belle’s breaking attempts; her hold on the door was just ridiculously strong, far stronger than a normal unicorn’s magic would have been.

“Well, then,” said Fleur, silently padding toward the door where Sweetie Belle was becoming increasingly paniced. “I guess this makes my decision much easier, doesn’t it?”

Sweetie Belle turned around. With the door behind her, there was nowhere to escape, and she did not have time to summon a defensive spell before Fleur reached down and licked the very tip of Sweetie Belle’s horn. Sweetie Belle immediately burst into tears. Having her horn violated like that was just too traumatic.

Then Fleur’s spell broke. Not because Sweetie Belle was especially strong, but because Fleur allowed it to collapse. The feedback should have been quite painful, but Fleur did not even flinch, nor did she do anything to reduce the impact of wave to her brain. The fact that she did not have to was terrifying in its own right.

Sweetie Belle did not take time to contemplate it, though. She ran, doing everything she could to get away from Fleur. Fleur did not pursue, apart from to step out of her door and watch Sweetie Belle leave.

As Sweetie Belle ran, she immediately began to feel sick. At first, she thought it was because of what had just happened to her. Then she started to taste metal, and the edges of her vision began to fade to silver. She realized that she was having another attack of illness.

This only made her panic more as the world around her seemed to swirl and distort. Time did not flow properly, and it felt as though Sweetie Belle spent an hour lapsing in and out of consciousness but still never leaving the hallway just outside Fleur’s guest room. Then, suddenly, she found herself outside in the garden.

It was raining hard, and even with the heavy canopy of strange dark trees overhead, Sweetie Belle felt herself getting soaked. She was frightened, and she did not understand why the rain had suddenly seemed to turn silver.

Then she saw him, and she froze. Standing across a small bed of naturalized carnations stood the all-white unicorn. Sweetie Belle immediately began panting, and she felt rage growing inside of her. She did not know why.

“Sweetie Belle,” he said in a deep but almost whisper-like voice.

“What do you want from me?!” screamed Sweetie Belle.

The unicorn’s face did not change, nor did his eyes move. The scent of flowers became almost overwhelming, but it was not the scent of the carnations. Instead, it was that of lilies. “Sweetie Belle,” he repeated.

With a sudden cry of fury, Sweetie Belle rushed through the carnations, trampling them and not even caring. She rushed toward the white unicorn and tackled him to the ground.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!” she cried as she put her hooves around his neck and began to strangle him.

“Sweetie Belle….Sweetie Belle….Sweetie Belle…”

Sweetie Belle screamed wordlessly and tightened her grasp, throwing his head around as she did and trying to slam it into the rocky soil below.

“WHY ARE YOU- -” Sweetie Belle suddenly gasped when she looked down at his face and instead of seeing a pair of gray, dead eyes looking back saw a pair of large blue ones.

Sweetie Belle immediately let go, and Muguet dropped to the ground limply. For a few horrible moments, she just lay here, perfectly still and not breathing. Then she choked and gasped, and rolled over. She, like Sweetie Belle, was soaking wet, but Sweetie Belle saw the tears in her eyes.

“Sweetie Belle,” she croaked through her now quite sore throat. “Why?”

The rain continued to fall, but now Sweetie Belle and Muguet sat side underneath the shelter of a long outdoor architectural arcade, its long arches stretching against the wall of the castle’s old section in both directions for a great distance. The sound of the rain on the leaves was almost threateningly loud, but not so great in volume that Sweetie Belle and Muguet would not have been able to hear each other if they had been speaking. They were not, though. Both sat in silence.

Sweetie Belle was still in the process of overcoming her sudden attack of illness, and Muguet now had an enormous bruise forming around her neck to complement the black eye that she had been given in the village. Although the two sat together, neither looked at each other.

“I’m sorry,” said Sweetie Belle at last.

“It is not the first time I have been choked,” said Muguet, “and it will not be the last. At least I did not have to be paid for it this time.”

“I just…” Sweetie Belle put her hoof against her now aching head. “I got sick again. I saw the white unicorn…no. I thought YOU were the white unicorn.” Sweetie Belle looked out at the gardens and the rain. “But it was a hallucination…I think it was this whole time.”

“I should have been more careful,” said Muguet. “I saw the look in your eyes. You were terrified. And terrifying.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! You tried to help me, and I attacked you!”

The two finally looked at each other, and then went silent again.

Sweetie Belle almost spoke up, wanting to tell Muguet about what Fleur had done to her. She stopped herself, though. Muguet loved Fleur, perhaps more than anything. She did not want to interfere with that. Nor, she realized, could she tell Rarity, who was Fleur’s friend. This realization suddenly made Sweetie Belle feel profoundly alone, so she did her best to change the subject in her mind.

“I learned more about Feathery Snipper,” said Sweetie Belle. “After she chased us, I ended up in an old farmhouse. It turns out she really is dangerous. She’s the one whose been doing all this.”

“She is persistant as well. She very nearly caught me several times as I flew back to the castle. Fortunately, Pegasi tend to be less maneuverable than thestrals even if they are faster. And she is surprisingly quick.”

Sweetie Belle’s eyes widened. “Wait,” she said. “Sniper chased you?”

“And nearly caught me, yes. I was so afraid.”

“But then who was chasing me through the grass?”

Muguet and Sweetie Belle stared at each other for a moment in confusion and growing apprehension as their minds searched for the implications of what Sweetie Belle had just said.

Then, suddenly, Sweetie Belle’s horn began to glow. A small ball of green energy erupted in front of her, closely resembling fire. From it, the fire produced smoke that reassembled into ash and within seconds paper, forming a complete scroll that Muguet then caught.

“What is this?” she asked.

“It’s Spike’s reply!” said Sweetie Bell, picking up the scroll in her magic. “It took him long enough!”

She opened the scroll and began to read. As soon as she did, she wished that she had not.

“Holy Luna’s bony rump,” she swore, her eyes widening.

“What? What is it?” asked Muguet, craning her neck to see even though she could not read.

“Spike looked it up,” said Sweetie Belle, finishing reading Spike’s impeccable handwriting and various well-organized footnotes. “Flocoumafen…its rat poison!”

“Rat poison?” said Muguet, her expression twisting in horror as she remembered that she had been putting it in all the food that she served. “But- -but it can’t be!”

“No,” said Sweetie Belle, scanning the scroll again just to make sure. “It’s a rodenticide, banned in most of Equestria…Spike says it’s an anticoagulant.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means it stops your blood from clotting. Symptoms include…” Sweetie Belle read through the list, “symptoms are weakness, nausea, bruising, bleeding gums…” Sweetie Belle’s eyes widened and she looked up at Muguet. “My symptoms…”

Muguet gasped. “You…you’ve been poisoned!”

“I think we all have,” said Sweetie Belle. “I’m just more sensitive to it. But you have it too.” She pointed to Muguet’s neck, where she had developed a far larger and darker bruise than any normal pony would have from Sweetie Belle’s attack.

“Is…is it fatal?”

“We’re not dead,” said Sweetie Belle. “So…no? Not immediately, anyway. But if any of us got injured, even a little bit, it would be like we had…hemophilia…”

“Sweetie Belle?”

Sweetie Belle looked at the scroll, and then closed it. “This proves it,” she said.

“Proves what?”

“Who told you to put that stuff in the food?”

“Well, Feathery Snipper, but- -” Muguet gasped and clasped her hooves over her mouth. “She- -she made me poison all of you! Even- -even Lady De’Lis!” Tears welled in Muguet’s eyes.

“Fleur probably wouldn’t have noticed. She’s a hemophiliac anyway.” Sweetie Belle paused for a moment. Something did not make sense about that. “Never mind, though. I have to take care of this.”

“Why you? We have to tell Lady De’Lis- -”

“NO!” cried Sweetie Belle. “I- -I already tried. It didn’t go well.”

“She did not believe you?”

“N…no…”

“Well,” said Muguet, looking back out at the trees. “I can see why. She trusts her servants far more than any noble would normally. We are like family to her. You might as well have accused her sister. But now with this proof- -”

“Do you have the bottle?”

“Um…no?”

“And she likely moved it. No. I have to do this. But I need your help.”

“M- -me? Sweetie Belle, I’m not a fighter! And she is so scary!”

“I just need you to find her, and deliver a message. Can you do that?”

Muguet considered for a moment, and then hesitantly nodded.

Muguet did as she was told. It went surprisingly well. She had informed Feathery Snipper, who had then proceeded to berate her with a number of insults, some that she did not understand. Instead of attacking her, though, Snipper had immediately gone to meet Sweetie Belle. Muguet just hoped that Sweetie Belle knew what she was doing.

On the way back, though, Muguet heard a beautiful voice call from behind her.

“Muguet!” called Lady De’Lis.

“Baroness,” said Muguet, turning around and bowing. “I did not hear you approach!”

“I can move a little silently, can’t I?” laughed the Baroness. “Are you busy, Muguet?”

“Not at the moment, My Lady.”

“Then could you please come with me? I need to talk to you. It’s about Sweetie Belle.”

“Sweetie Belle?”

“Yes. It is of the utmost importance.”

“Oh, well, yes My Lady! Certainly! It would be an honor to speak with you at length!”

Lady De’Lis smiled, and the two of them walked together toward the old section of the castle. , �]>6{