To Sweetie Belle, the walk was actually quite enjoyable. The scenery surrounding the De’Lis castle and manor were actually quite impressive. Most of the area consisted of farms, most of which seemed to be growing coarse vegetables like potatoes various Old-World grains, as well as a few anemic looking fields of cabbage. There were a few ponies in those fields, and they would usually only glare at Rarity and Sweetie Belle as they passed, although a few spoke to each other in hushed tones.

There were few buildings outside of the three main village sections. Sweetie Belle noticed a few windmills, although they had fallen into disrepair and no longer turned despite the chilly wind from the east. A couple of trees were present, seemingly the remnants of ancient windbreaks. They had since become massive and gnarled, their bodies rotting and dying from old age as they loomed over the flat and empty fields.

The walk was not nearly as enjoyable for Rarity. She did not seem to be able to appreciate the scenery, and as a mare of fashion with a career that did not require any continuous outdoor activity, she tired extremely easily. As the land ceased to become flat and the dirt road became more inclined, Sweetie Belle noticed that Rarity was beginning to fall behind: she seemed to be developing a limp in one of her rear legs.

“Rarity, are you okay?”

Rarity looked at Sweetie Belle, and tried to smile, but instead her eyes welled up with tears. Then she burst into all-out weeping. “I’m SWEATING!” she wailed.

Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes. “It’s not that much farther.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Sweetie Belle pointed at the large hill that occupied the center of the manor. “It’s up there.”

Rarity slowly looked up, the momentary look of relief on her face fading very quickly. “Up…there?”

“Yeah. Where else would it be?”

“Somewhere more…level.” Rarity sighed. “Can you carry me?”

“No,” said Sweetie Belle.

“Pleeeeaaasee…” whined Rarity.

“What, are you too old to make it up on your own? A little arthritic, maybe?”

Rarity’s eyes suddenly narrowed, and Sweetie Belle took a step back. She had not expected to see that look on her sister’s face. She had been joking, after all, because that was what sisters did- -but Rarity looked genuinely angry, and Sweetie Belle instinctively moved out of hoof striking distance.

“I’m not OLD,” said Rarity, passing Sweetie Belle and bumping her hard, nearly knocking her over. “It’s simply not ladylike to have to climb hills. If I keep up all this exercise, I’ll end up looking like Applejack. And then how will I ever get a date?”

The climb was more difficult than Rarity had anticipated, but she forced herself to keep going despite the pain in her leg and how out of breath she was becoming. All the while she regretted having tried to take so much luggage with her. She had not realized that Fleur lived on a hill.

After a half hour of walking, though, the castle became visible. Rarity had expected that it would give her the impetus she needed to make it the rest of the way, but upon seeing it she was resoundingly disappointed. The crown of the hill was surrounded by a crumbling, ancient stone wall that looked like something out of an ancient ruin. She had expected something more modern, and was briefly consumed by a fear that this would turn out to indeed be a “dusty, drafty, dark, drab, decrepit” locale.

This dread was not assuaged even as the rocky, scrub-covered land began to level out near a crumbling section of the wall where a mighty gate had apparently once resided. The gate had long-since been removed, or at this castle’s age even rotted away to nothing, leaving only a gaping square hole.

“Oh dear,” said Rarity. “This is…”

“Antique?” suggested Sweetie Belle.

Rarity grumbled, saying a few words that she doubted Sweetie Belle was allowed to hear at her age. Sweetie Belle, of course, heard them, and not for the first time. They were an extensive part of Scootaloo’s vocabulary.

Sweetie Belle followed her sister into the castle, but momentarily hesitated. She was not sure why, but she suddenly felt cold. It was probably because of the wind, which was stronger on top of the hill and still carried the chill of winter despite it being spring, and Sweetie Belle did her best to dismiss it as such. Something felt wrong, though, as if she did not want to enter that castle, and she found herself shivering and afraid, even though she did not know why.

“Sweetie Belle?” said Rarity, sounding somewhat annoyed.

“I’m coming,” said Sweetie Belle, overcoming her hesitation and following her sister into the ruin.

As it turned out, though, it was not a ruin at all. The outside hill was dry and rocky, covered with the remains of the crumbling wall as it slowly fell apart. The inside, though, formed a level plateau that showed signs of being maintained with great care.

All around them were extensive formal gardens. They were laid out perfectly, with tall, well-spaced trees and hedges. Tall, ancient yews stood against fields and paths that broke off and were only visible from the main pathway in passing, leaving them dark and mysterious.

And it was that mysteriousness that made Sweetie Belle feel even more uncomfortable. The shapes of these trees and the way they connected to the ground, rarifying the dirt with their gnarled roots, indicated that they were incrediably old. Not just the trees, but the garden itself. These trees, shrubs, and flowers had been maintained for decades or even centuries, and the stone paths were well-worn cobblestones formed from the same type of stone that made the walls, which were far less poorly maintained on the inside and tended to be covered with well-manicured displays of various dark-leaved vines.

The extensiveness of the plantings made their surroundings seem suddenly darker, aided by the fact that the chill air suddenly seemed to be accompanied by gray, overcast skies. The sun, likewise, was far to one side of the sky, and the shadow of the wall was already growing long over the part of the garden nearest to it.

The path was long, and Sweetie Belle felt more and more nervous as they slowly curved through it toward the central part of the castle, which was itself obscured by the trees and by the curious curving style of the main path. As strange as she felt, she could not stop herself from going forward. Even though almost nothing was in bloom, the plants around her were beautiful: ominous like the Everfree Forest, but at the same time clearly maintained in precise form in accordance with gardening traditions that had long-since died out before colonists had even reached the Canterlot Region of Equestria.

There were no ponies, though, or at least that was what Sweetie Belle thought. She almost jumped when she actually saw one: an all-white Pegasus with long, dark hair tied into braids. The Pegasus was carefully watering a stone planter of spindly, strange looking plants. Sweetie Belle smiled at her, but the older mare just narrowed her eyes and glared at the pair of them, muttering something in her own language through the watering can handle in her teeth.

Sweetie Belle decided that the Pegasus gardener was not in a good mood- -probably from having to do so much work to maintain such an extensive display- -and Sweetie Belle elected to leave her alone. As she did, she caught a glimpse of a second pony, but only for a brief moment. Far through the trees and displays, she saw a stunning artificial pond. A white-coated unicorn with a white mane stared back at her with strangely empty, gray eyes, and smiled at her. Sweetie Belle was so taken aback from his appearance even at a distance that she almost stopped, or would have if the center of the castle had not come into view.

Its presence was so astounding that both Sweetie Belle and Rarity stopped in speechlessness. Even Sweetie Belle had been expecting some kind of decaying ruin, but instead found herself facing a stunning Romanesque building. The front portion was long and multi-leveled. It’s thick stone walls were dotted with many windows, and it looked nearly modern- -but behind it seemed to sit the remainder of the building, or a second one completely: a massive structure with a number of thick, soaring towers and round walls. Unlike the outer wall, they had been perfectly maintained- -or even reconstructed in modern times from the look of them. To Sweetie Belle, the front building looked like a mansion greater than any she had ever seen, and the rear like something out of a storybook.

“Oh wow,” whispered Rarity.

Sweetie Belle turned to her sister. “I didn’t know your friend was this rich!”

“Neither…neither did I…”

The two of them approached the castle. Outside of the front building, several tall trees were planted. Unlike the other darker trees, these were covered completely in pure white flowers that slowly wafted in the breeze, and they had been assembled in a neat row so as to not grow over the building’s windows.

Sweetie Belle though these trees were beautiful- -until she got close. She immediately wrinkled her nose, and then clapped her hoof over it. The trees, as beautiful as they were, stunk, and badly. They smelled like something that had rotted underwater for a long time.

The only motion was the blowing of the trees, and the pedals of their beautiful but dying flowers as they slowly fell to the ground. There were no ponies, or workers of any kind. Nopony to meet them, nor any ponies at all.

“Well,” said Rarity, her voice betraying the fact that she was feeling not unlike the sensation that Sweetie Belle was feeling. “I suppose…we should go in?”

“I’m not so sure I want to.”

“I’m certainly not going to stay out here,” snapped Rarity, trotting toward the building excitedly. “Or do you think it is haunted, perhaps?”

“No,” said Sweetie Belle, annoyed by the mocking tone of her sister’s voice. She not help but remember a strange story that she had once heard from Diamond Tiara about a strange house in the distant desert, and what was lurking inside.

Then, for just a moment, Sweetie Belle though that she was being proven right as the grand front door swung open just before Rarity could reach it and she saw a single green eye staring back at them from inside.

Sweetie Belle and Rarity both cried out in fright, only to seconds later feel like identical fools. The pony facing them was a tall white earth-pony dressed in a butler uniform. His golden hair was tied back behind his head, and the reason that Sweetie Belle and Rarity had only seen one eye was because the other was covered with an eyepatch.

Despite this threatening appearance, he smiled kindly if a little sheepishly. He was not much older than Rarity, if not even younger.

“Hello!” he said, doing his best to conceal his rustic accent. He stepped back and gestured for them to enter. “You must be Rarity. And your…daughter?”

Rarity gave him the most crushing glare that Sweetie Belle had ever witnessed, and the color drained from his already white face. “Sister,” said Rarity through gritted teeth.

“My- -my apologies!” He said. “It’s just that- -you look so alike- -and you being such a stunning mare, I assumed you were married and- -”

“Keep digging,” said Sweetie Belle.

The stallion blubbered for a moment, and then stopped suddenly. He closed his eyes and bowed deeply. “Mistress Rarity, I am so sorry,” he said. “I can see I have offended you, and to have this be your first impression of De’Lis ancestral estate…it is simply intolerable!”

“This is hardly my first impression,” muttered Rarity. “I certainly had enough time to view the entirety of this place. While I WALKED here.”

The butler looked up, confused. “Wait. Walked? Why did you walk?”

“Because the carriage pullers you sent refused to go beyond the outer towns. And might I say that the ponies there were QUITE rude to us.”

The butler seemed to blanch once again. “You should not have been in the villages,” he said, looking strangely afraid. His one eye darted between the two of them, and his other hoof seemed to instinctively go to where his other had once been. “We- -we paid them to take you directly here!”

“Well, they didn’t,” said Rarity. “We had to WALK all the way here. And our luggage is still down in the village!”

The butler looked mortified. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’ll take Feathery Snipper and fetch it myself tonight.”

“You’re not a very competent butler, are you?” said Sweetie Belle.

The butler sighed. “You noticed, I see.” He sighed and shook his head. “We would have sent you one of Baroness De’Lis’s personal carriages, but the staff is very short right now.”

“Short?”

The butler nodded. “The Baroness has only recently returned from her foray to Canterlot, and I’m afraid that the staff is still being built up. The Baroness tends to be very particular with who she hires, as is her prerogatives.”

“Yes, and clearly competence is not something she has considered.”

The butler looked hurt, and Rarity realized that she was being mean. He had accidentally insulted her, yes, but the remainder of what had occurred was not his fault. Rarity’s anger began to fade, in part because she had finally reached the beautiful castle and in part because the stallion apologizing profusely to her was tall, with perfect hair and a butler uniform. Had he possessed a horn and a pedigree, Rarity would have considered forgiving him on the spot, among other things.

Rarity sighed. “I suppose this does happen sometimes, though. I’m sure we’ll laugh about it later. Just as long as you do retrieve that luggage. I came all the way out here to construct Fleur a set of dresses, and I simply cannot do my job without my tools and equipment.”

“We do have several reams of cloth, as well as some supplies- -”

Rarity held out her hoof, stopping him. “I’m being nice because you are clearly not an experienced butler,” she said.

“And because she thinks you’re cute.”

Rarity blushed. “Just don’t push me,” she said, then, turning to Sweetie Belle, “EITHER of you.” Rarity turned back to the butler. “Now, if you would be…so…kind…”

She trailed off as a strange smell suddenly seemed to permeate the air. Rarity sniffed and turned her head, looking through the large room. It was the first time she noticed just how dark it was, with the shadows of the tall castle walls now having extended to cover much of the central house and with the internal lamps of the castle not yet lit.

Rarity sniffed again, and Sweetie Belle seemed to be noticing the aroma too. It was not the smell of an old building or even the rather unpleasant scent of the blossoms outside. Instead, it was a perfume.

As a pony who had dedicated her life to fashion and elegance, Rarity had through the years acquired the ability to recognize literally hundreds of individual perfumes, and to judge their quality within mere seconds. This scent, however, was one that she had never encountered before. It was not floral at all, and what it even was Rarity had no idea, save for an extremely complex mixture with an alluring scent. As a perfume, though, Rarity would have associated it more with a stallion’s cologne; for a mare to wear it was a bold and provocative choice.

That was when her eyes were drawn to the top of one of the two flanking grand staircases of the castle’s main foyer. From the shadows and darkness overhead, a white figure emerged. Slender and pale, she walked down the stairs. Every step she took was silent and perfectly placed, as though her perfect body were in fact made of shimmering mist. Watching this, Rarity suddenly felt her heart beating quickly for reasons that she was not fully able to explain.

Fleur De’Lis descended, smiling as she moved, and then finally stepped off the stairs, turning her head slightly to push her perfect pink mane into its most elegant position.

“Silver,” she said, her own voice accented in a way that was quite similar to that of the and clearly addressing her servant, who bowed before her.

“I was just about to find you, Lady De’Lis,” he said, his head still bent before her. “To inform you that your guests have arrived.”

“Guests?” Fleur’s eyes, which had been almost exclusively been locked on Rarity, now suddenly shifted to Sweetie Belle. For a moment, she seemed profoundly surprised. Then a different expression crossed her eyes, and she smiled. “Oh my!” she said, sounding far more overjoyed than Sweetie Belle would have expected. “You resemble Rarity, in miniature!”

“I do hope you don’t mind,” said Rarity. “My parents were called away on, ahem, ‘urgent business’, and I thought that my sister could learn a great deal from your culture. That, and I will need some amount of help filling your order. I realize I should have written first, but- -”

“Don’t be silly, Rarity!” said Fleur. “This castle, it is so very big, and it does sometimes grow lonely! Having another guest shall be no trouble! Besides, we are all white unicorns here, are we not?”

“That we are,” laughed Rarity. “Although, to be honest, we Ponyville unicorns hardly compare to you.”

“Oh, Rarity,” giggled Fleur. “Such a flatterer! I assure you, I may exceed you in height, but certainly not in skill. And I certainly do not exceed your sister in sheer filly-adorableness.”

This made Sweetie Belle uncomfortable. Not just the strange way that Fleur was complimenting her, but the way the older pony’s eyes never once left her. Or even blinked. Sweetie Belle chalked it up to Fleur being foreign and from a much different culture, but she decided that her ways would take some getting used to.

“My Lady,” said Silver, sounding nervous. “I am afraid that the carriage that was hired for them, it only reached as far as the second village.”

Fleur’s eyes widened and finally left Sweetie Belle. “Non,” she said. She turned quickly to Rarity. “It didn’t, surely!”

“I’m afraid it did,” said Rarity.

“Yeah,” said Sweetie Belle. “They really didn’t want to get near the castle. Like, at all.”

“Well, no, I should think not,” said Fleur. “This building, the villages her many superstitions about it. They say…” She paused, then shook her head. “What they say of it does not matter. Simply folklore of the peasantry.” She paused as her expression became distant. “Not all of it unwarranted. Some of my ancestors were not kind to those who worked our land.”

“But you cannot lay the blame for their actions upon yourself, My Lady,” said Silver, “and your kindness alone has paid back their sins tenfold, at least!”

“If only it could work that way,” sighed Fleur. She shook her head, and then went back to smiling. “Come, though,” she said, leading Rarity and Sweetie Belle with her. “The hour grows late. I shall have Silver Sight finish preparing our evening meal. In the meantime, if you so wish, you may use the castle bath. I understand well how difficult the walk from the outer villages can be to those of us with more aristocratic builds.”

For the first time since they had arrived, Rarity’s eyes lit up. Sweetie Belle, though, did not share her sister’s elation.

The bath, of course, was possibly the most exquisite that Rarity had ever had. Even the Ponyville Spa, though still one of her favorite places, did not compare to the combination of carved marble pools, the exquisite imported soaps, and the extensive tile mosaics that filled the extensive bath. Even the smallest of the baths was the size of a swimming pool, filled completely with warm water and steam that wafted the smells of the bath oil into the air around her. It was so relaxing that it almost made the sweating worth the effort just so that Rarity could feel the sensation of becoming clean again.

She would have stayed there for hours, or perhaps even days, but she knew that Fleur and Sweetie Belle would be expecting her at dinner and that it would be rude not to attend. So, eventually, she managed to force her dripping wet body out of the marble bath and onto the tiled walkways beside it.

As she did, she winced. As relaxed as she had been in the bath, leaving it immediately made her feel cold, and having sat so long made the arthritis in her rear knees almost unbearable.

Rarity had forgotten her pain pills in her luggage, so she was forced to move stiffly toward the vanity area on the far side of the bath. The arthritis was painful in both knees, but really only bad in her right. It was the result of an unfortunate fillyhood injury involving a very foolish attempt to ride an apple cart down Dead Mare hill- -Applejack’s idea, of course- -followed by a slightly later set of injuries she had received in her attempts to cheerlead before dropping out school completely. It had not been bad at first, but had been exacerbated by a career that required almost constant standing, bending, and lifting- -in addition to her age.

With her magic and a small cloth, Rarity wiped away the steam from one of the mirrors and looked at her reflection. She had dealt with it by joking, by feigning offense and drama, and because of that Sweetie Belle no doubt failed to notice just how painful it had been for her to point out her sister’s signs of aging. How much it had hurt her, down to her core.

Without her makeup, the signs were even more apparent: the beginning of wrinkles in the corner of her eyes were one, and the arthritis was another. As Rarity took up a brush, she noticed several gray hairs inside her once beautiful blue mane. She wanted to cry. Her whole appearance was that of a pony just beginning to pass her prime. Once, she had been beautiful, but now that beauty was fading- -and as old as she looked now, within a few years her appearance would be far, far worse.

“Excuse me, Mistress Rarity?” said a soft voice.

Rarity jumped, nearly slipping on the tile and desperately attempting to cover her nakedness. She turned quickly, prepared to fling the hairbrush at whatever pony dared to see her unclothed and without her makeup, but found herself looking into the blue eyes of thestral filly with a curious white coat color and a pale green mane. The girl was not much older than Sweetie Belle, and she was quite clearly a servant. A pile of fresh, high-threat count towels as white as her coat was perched between her bat-like wings. “I did not mean to startle you!” she said, sounding meekly ashamed. “I am the Baroness’s maidservant. I brought you towels.”

“Towels?” Rarity looked down at herself, realizing that she was still soaking wet. She had hardly noticed, and wondered how long she had been preoccupied with her reflection and the thoughts of her impending decay. “Oh. Thank you.” She levitated one of the towels from the girl’s back, and looked back to the mirror. The servant girl moved to put the towels in a specially designed rack, but Rarity stopped her.

“What is your name?” she asked.

The girl blinked, as though no one had ever asked her before. “I am Muguet. I don’t have a surname.”

“Muguet?”

The thestral nodded. “It is a flower. They grow to the north of here. They are very pretty. That is why I chose the name, even if I cannot live up to it.”

“I think you’re lovely,” said Rarity, drying herself.

Muguet blushed and smiled. “Not nearly so much as you or the Lady De’Lis, Mistress,” she said.

Rarity looked at the thestral and felt a sudden pang of jealousy. She was just barely entering marehood, and at the age where she would be the most beautiful. Rarity found herself wishing for that youth, but then mentally chastised herself for feeling that way about somepony that had done nothing wrong apart from being cute.

“Muguet,” she said, “do I look old to you?”

“There is nothing wrong with being old.”

It was not the answer Rarity had been expecting. “That’s not an answer.”

“My apologies. Do you look old? Older than me, yes. Perhaps older than the Lady De’Lis, but with her, it is hard to know. Perhaps…I may not understand the question? ‘Old’ is relative. Older than what?”

Rarity could clearly see that the girl was trying her best to help, and failing at it. “Never mind,” she said, turning back to the mirror and picking up the makeup she could use to at least slow the external appearance of her greatest failure.

When Rarity was led downstairs toward the main hall, she was feeling much more confident. She was clean, fresh-smelling, and had applied both mascara and an appropriate pale shade of eyeshadow. Due to her winter mane, she was not able to pull off the deeper eyeshadow’s that Fleur preferred, but she thought that she had done reasonably well with what she had been given. With her aging momentarily arrested, she was better able to ignore the severe pain in her rear leg.

By this time, the castle had grown quite dark. Little light came through the large, ornate windows and instead the long hallways were lit by a number of indoor gas lanterns. In the warm glow, Rarity was able to see that the inside of the castle was aesthetically quite similar to its outside. Like the façade, the hallways had the distinct appearance of being old: their size was far greater than what would be found in any normal mansion, and the ceilings consisted of high stone arches. At some point in modern time, though, the corridors had been modified to appear more modern. The walls had been paneled, and ornately carved but remarkably conservative edifices lined what would have otherwise been bland stone toward the ceiling. The floor was lined with a pleasantly colored carpet over smooth and expensive tile.

Rarity soon found herself wandering, enamored by the lavishness of the abode. She had already known that Fleur had exquisite taste, but had always seen her as something of a modern, trendsetting socialite. This view of a beautiful but distinctly Old-World version of the historical De’Lis family showed a different side of her that Rarity had never considered. This only increased her admiration for Fleur.

Eventually Rarity found herself walking through a comparatively narrow hallway. The light in it was somewhat more dim than in other locations; due to the spacing of the architectural features, the gas lights had been spaced quite distantly to avoid interrupting the aesthetic design. What interested Rarity, though, was that this particular area contained several paintings.

Approaching from a perpendicular hallway, Rarity stopped at a large painting that sat in the center of the hall. It was quite well executed, and its size and brushstrokes clearly indicated that it had been painted by a unicorn artist. The painting showed a far younger version of Fleur- -lankier, but still taller than most unicorns her age and far more beautiful- -posing beside a similarly slender white unicorn. The older unicorn closely resembled Fleur, although she had piercing blue eyes and a pale blue and white mane. By the jewels and dresses that they were both wearing- -as well as, of course, the strong resemblance- -Rarity was immediately able to recognize the elder unicorn as Couleur De’Lis, Fleur’s mother.

“Oh my,” said Rarity, looking up at the dual portrait. “It certainly is genetic, isn’t it?” She sighed. “Oh, to be nobility. If I had a body like that…” She paused, and then shook her head. Her own body, though aging, was quite fabulous despite her more squat stature.

As she stood, though, she suddenly shivered. The hall felt cold, and it likely was. This was an old and large castle, and spring had only come recently in northern Prance. Drafts were something that a pony would need to trade for the luxury of such a dwelling. Strangely, though, Rarity felt no draft. The room was not cold- -she was. And, for some reason, Couleur De’Lis’s deep blue painted eyes seemed to be staring at her far more harshly than they had a moment ago.

Remaining curious, though, Rarity continued down the hall. Many of the paintings, it seemed, were dedicated to Fleur’s mother. Rarity found that somewhat sweet, even if many of the paintings and photographs themselves were somewhat strange. Many of them were oddly dark, and pictured Couleur in strange places: a deep, overgrown garden, a strange and barren stone room, or standing ankle-deep in a clear lake at dusk. Couleur, of course, looked beautiful in all of them and posed most elegantly. The subject matter was just strange, though, but Rarity dismissed it as Fleur and her mother both sharing an unusual artsy streak.

Other than the main central painting, many of the flanking images showed Couleur- -often with Fleur- -in the nude, clearly reveling in the perfection of their svelte bodies. Rarity did not take nearly as much interest in those as she did in the photographs or images showing either of them in dresses, though.

There was nothing quite like the clothing of the aristocracy. Yes, it tended to maintain elements that had become unfashionable and obsolete sometimes decades before, but that very sense of tradition and call to the past make it remarkably alluring. After taking mental notes of several photographs, though, Rarity began to notice that the images were a bit more than minor anachronisms.

Fleur’s mother, it seemed, had possessed a strong appreciation for historical garments. Many of the images, either paintings or purposefully old-looking photographs, showed her and her guests dressed in clothing characteristic of what was worn in the mid ninth century almost a century and a half prior to the modern age. The stallions wore long, often heavy coats with tall top hats, and the mares a variety of dresses with narrow fitted tops and immense skirts. Couleur herself featured quite prominently, appearing in the epitome of aristocratic dress, although in a style that Rarity had only seen preserved in glass cases at the Manehattan Fashion Museum.

She was, of course, overjoyed at this sigh. As odd as her artistic tastes were, Couleur De’Lis’s passion for historical clothing was something that Rarity understood well, as she herself had made a hobby out of creating- -and periodically dressing in- -recreations of historical couture. It made her quite happy that she and Fleur’s clearly beloved mother had shared a passion for a far more civilized age of clothing, and she made a mental note to use this knowledge to inform her construction of Fleur’s wedding dress.

Rarity leaned in closer toward one particular photograph. There was no color, but the detail still remained.

“Remarkable,” she said in awe. “I’ve never seen such accurate reproductions…those are hoof-stitched. And even the buttons are period. I wonder if they’re antique?”

She leaned in just a bit closer, but found that because of the limitations of the photograph- -likely taken on an antique camera- -she was not able to actually see the design of the buttons. She did decide to bring this up with Fleur later, though, knowing that she had likely retained her mother’s belongings and more than likely knew the dressmaking master who had assembled her mother and friends’ outfits.

As Rarity leaned back, she admired the photographs and paintings one more time before turning down the dimly lit hallway- -and being met with a pair of harsh, black eyes.

Rarity squealed and leapt into the air, instinctively charging her horn as though she actually knew any manner of defensive spell. When she came back down to the floor, though, she realized that she was not staring into the dead eyes of some strange ghost or revenant, but rather the face of a severely displeased looking white Pegasus with a lantern in her mouth

“Oh my Celestia!” cried Rarity, laughing as she caught her breath. “You startled me! Oh my…so this is how Fluttershy feels most of the time, I suppose. No wonder she dyes her mane…”

The frowning Pegasus did not laugh, or respond in any visible way. She stood perfectly still, glaring at Rarity with her coal-like eyes. Rarity laughed again, this time awkwardly trying to break the tension. The Pegasus remained still, like a statue.

“Um…hello?” said Rarity. “Are you…okay?”

The Pegasus’s eyes shifted suddenly, almost startling Rarity a second time. Then she gently set down the lantern. With the light not so close to her face, Rarity was able to see that she was actually somewhat past middle age, with deep lines under her eyes and her long black hair tied into braids.

“You should not be here,” she said. Her accent was thick, but it was not local, but rather one from a far more eastern land.

“I do apologize, Ms…?”

“Feathery Snipper.”

“Ms. Snipper. I simply got distracted by these astounding paintings, and- -”

“It is not safe for you to wander around the castle like this,” snapped the Pegasus. “Not alone. And not at night.”

“Wh- -what?” said Rarity, suddenly feeling something very similar to the chill she had felt before.

Snipper stared at her for another uncomfortably long time, and then lifted the lantern she was carrying under her wing and started walking. After several steps, she stopped. “Are you coming?”

“Oh,” muttered Rarity. “Um…yes?”

She began following the older mare, and suddenly Snipper spoke again. “This castle is large,” she said, “and it is dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” said Rarity, suddenly looking around with a newfound sense of dread.

“Since the death of the previous Baroness, this building has sat unoccupied for some time. Much of it is still under renovation, especially in the old section.”

“Oh my. I didn’t realize- -”

“Because you didn’t bother to ask. And if you had ended up out in some unlit stone tower? I’d have to spend all night looking for you. Or all of tomorrow cleaning you off the floor at the bottom of the tower, or pull your skeleton out of one of the old passageways a few months from now. And my job is hard enough as it is.”

“I- -I didn’t realize!”

“That, and you’re keeping the Baroness waiting. She’s a patient pony. Too patient, if you ask me, especially with the bat.”

“I…um…didn’t ask you.”

“But she doesn’t like to have her guests going and getting lost,” snapped Snipper. “If it was up to me? You wouldn’t be here. Not now. It’s not ready.” She stopped suddenly and turned to Rarity. “But take my advice. Don’t wonder. Don’t go anywhere here without Fleur, or one of us servants. And especially- -ESPECIALLY- -don’t go into the old section! Not even if Fleur herself asks you to!”

“I…can see you’re trying to help,” said Rarity, trying to hide how unnerved she was becoming. “But you’re…well, to be honest, you’re frightening me.”

Snipper snorted, smiling to reveal a number of crooked and unpleasant looking teeth. “I’m scaring you? Mistress, just wait a few nights. Just wait…”

As soon as Rarity reached the dining hall, she immediately regretted having lingered instead of heading there straight away. It was immense, with swooping multi-arched ceiling that came as close to gothic as it could without breaking free of the overall modernized-Romanesque theme of the castle. The floor was laid out with a complex but elegantly subdued system of tiling that stretched from a solid wall on one side to a group of large windows overlooking the now darkened garden on the far side.

A long table, longer than any Rarity had ever seen, had been set up in the center of the room. It would have been able to accommodate a meeting of the nobility, or even to have Celestia herself in attendance should the need arise. Tonight, though, the functional spread was limited to just one far end. There, Rarity could see Fleur sitting at the head of the table with Sweetie Belle directly next to her and an empty place on the other side.

As Rarity approached, she heard Fleur’s familiar laugh, and a second laugh that she also recognized easily as the awkward laugh that Sweetie Belle made when she was trying to be polite. Their exchange was not going well, and Rarity blamed herself. Though beautiful, Fleur was not known for her ability to maintain a conversation. She usually preferred to strike poses and allow those around her- -generally Fancy Pants- -to speak for her.

Silver Sight, now in a white server uniform that matched his relatively muscular shape and his white coat quite well, reached out and pulled Rarity’s chair free from the table, smiling as he bowed. He had even gone so far as to switch to a white eyepatch, and Rarity greatly appreciated the attention to detail in his costume change. She could not help but return his smile, even though he immediately made the situation somewhat awkward by blushing profusely.

“Thank you, Silver,” said Rarity, taking her seat.

“Not a problem at all, Mistress.” He turned to Fleur. “My Lady, shall I serve the first course?”

“Of course!” replied Fleur, smiling. “After their long walk, I am sure that our friends are quite famished!”

Silver bowed. “Muguet and I will bring it at once.” He stepped back and turned to Feathery Snipper, gesturing to her to follow him. Rarity heard the Pegasus muttering something about how kitchen work was not part of her job.

Rarity turned her attention to Fleur and Sweetie Belle, the latter of whom seemed immensely relieved that Rarity had arrived. “I see you two are getting along well.”

“To a degree,” said Fleur. “Although I think I am not the conversationalist I wish that I were.”

Sweetie Belle’s eyes widened, and Rarity shot a look at her as both of them placed the blame on her. Fleur seemed to realize this as well. “No, no!” She said. “It is not Sweetie Belle’s fault, not at all!” She sighed. “It is simply that I am afraid I have difficulty connecting with children. It has been quite some time since I was one myself, and a lot has changed since then.”

“I think you did pretty well,” said Sweetie Belle, possibly lying.

Fleur smiled. “Thank you, Sweetie Belle. I suppose you have helped me to improve, no? I certainly will have to. I will not be able to avoid interacting with children much longer, won’t I?”

Rarity gasped and put her hooves to her mouth with a small squeal of excitement. “Fleur! You’re not?”

Fleur sighed, and though still smiling shook her head. “Not yet, I’m afraid. But I certainly do intend to get to work on the matter very shortly after the wedding. After all, it is critical that the House of De’Lis have a female heir to take my title when the time comes.” She paused. “That, and…I have always wanted children so dearly. A great many of them. So that these long-empty halls might be alive again, with the sound of many beautiful white unicorns. And there is no pony who I would rather share that joy with than the one I love, Fancy Pants.”

“I’m sure you will make an excellent mother,” said Rarity. “After all, I would suppose it is hereditary.”

“Hereditary?” said Fleur, looking confused.

“Yes,” said Rarity, slightly ashamed. “While I was coming back from the bath, I passed the display you have made to your mother.”

Fleur’s eyes lit up- -but also narrowed slightly. “Ah,” she said. “My mother, indeed! If I could be one tenth the mother she was to me, I would consider myself the grandest success in all of Equestria!”

“She was quite beautiful.”

“She was,” said Fleur, somewhat distantly as she remembered her mother. “And my own beauty is her gift to me. As her daughter, and as she taught me to carry myself, to behave like a mare of this station, and to maintain myself.” She sighed. “I do miss her so.”

“But are you sure you’re ready to become a mother yourself?”

Rarity and Fleur both turned suddenly to Sweetie Belle.

“Sweetie Belle!” gasped Rarity. “What kind of question is that?!”

“An honest one. You know, Applejack style.” Sweetie Belle turned to Fleur. “You’re a model, aren’t you?”

“I am,” said Fleur, suddenly seeming to enjoy conversing with Sweetie Belle much more.

“With a body like that,” said Rarity, “it would simply be a crime if you were not!”

“Oh you!”

“But you’re so successful,” continued Sweetie Belle. “And so young! Are you sure you don’t want to focus on your career now instead?”

Fleur laughed suddenly. “Such a perceptive filly! And so practical.” She took a breath. “Unfortunately, that is the mare’s curse, is it not? We are not like stallions. Our bodies get older differently. The choice to have children or not must be made young, I’m afraid. And I have made mine.”

“It’s not as though your career is over,” said Rarity. “You will still be the most sought-after fashion model in all of Equestria.”

“True,” said Fleur, “but I’m not sure I can maintain the lifestyle. You know how it is, Rarity. The life of a socialite is a hard one. And I think I might be ready for early retirement.” She looked up at the room around them. “Which is why I have returned home after so long. After the death of my beloved mother, I could not bring myself to come here for several years, save for occasional trips during the summers when I grew weary. But now, I feel that I should return. It is peaceful here, and quiet, and it lets me remember what it means to be a De’Lis.”

“It’s certainly a long way to come to visit, though,” sighed Rarity.

“Not if we meet in the middle.” Fleur gasped with sudden inspiration. “I know! Next year, you should join Fancy Pants and myself! We will go to Maris!”

Rarity’s eyes grew so wide that Sweetie Belle thought they looked to be on the verge of falling out. “Maris? The City of Lights? The center of haute couture, cuisine- -of true pony society itself?”

“The one!” laughed Fleur.

“Oh, oh my!” Rarity began waving her hooves near her face. “I never even considered it- -I think- -I think I’m going to faint.”

“I brought the smelling salts,” said Sweetie Belle, placing them on the table. Fleur laughed again, and even Sweetie Belle smiled this time.

“That said,” said Fleur, “I can’t help but wonder, are you as practical as your adorable sister?”

“Practical? Whatever do you mean?”

“Your career is far more extensive than mine. Three separate boutiques is impressive for one pony, and I understand you are rising through the ranks of society. But in all that hard work, have you chosen to focus on your progression…” she smiled slyly, “…or have you considered making white unicorns of your own?”

Rarity stammered and blushed, trying to avert the question somehow, and Sweetie Belle struggled to hold in laughter. They both were met with a brief reprieve, though, as Silver Sight and Muguet appeared caring several large platters.

“That smells divine,” said Rarity, addressing her compliment as much to Fleur as to Silver.

“Indeed,” said Fleur. “Silver Sight is a most competent cook.”

“Do butlers usually cook?” said Sweetie Belle as Muguet set a plate in front of her with great, shaking difficulty. “I thought they buttled.”

Before Rarity could answer, the plate suddenly dropped sharply, and Sweetie Belle was showered with bits of salad.

“I’m sorry!” cried Muguet. “I didn’t mean- -let me just- -EEP!”

In her nervousness, she had shifted the wait from her entire platter too much to one side. Despite her best attempt to regain control of the platter, it dropped completely. Rarity and Fleur cried out as a small tidal wave of food rushed toward them- -only for all of it to immediately freeze as it was suddenly held aloft by a glow of pale green light.

Fleur stared at a yeast roll that was slowly drifting by her head, and then blinked in confusion before staring wide-eyed at Sweetie Belle, who was supporting the entire meal by telekinesis.

“You- -you are doing this?” she said, partly in awe.

Sweetie Belle nodded, and then frowned as she concentrated on righting the various dishes and returning them to their proper format as best she could. Some of the dishes had lost their aesthetic design, but Sweetie Belle managed to reassemble them reasonably well and to gracefully set them back down on the table. Fleur and Rarity- -and Silver- -continued to stare at Sweetie Belle for a moment longer, making her feel quite uncomfortable.

This was only interrupted when Silver’s eyes shifted to Muguet. When the other saw this, they turned too, with Sweetie Belle looking over her shoulder to find a shaking, mortified thestral.

Muguet looked almost terrified as her eyes darted between the ponies she had been serving and finally settled on Fleur. “I’m- -I’m sorry,” she said, her voice sounding as though she was on the verge of tears. “I didn’t- -I can’t- -I have to go!” Crying, she suddenly ran out of the room.

“Muguet!” called Silver.

“Let her go,” sighed Fleur. She turned to Rarity, who appeared almost as concerned as Sweetie Belle felt. “Please don’t judge her too harshly, Rarity.”

“I wasn’t judging her,” said Rarity, quickly, even though Sweetie Belle knew that she probably had been. “It’s just that…”

“She isn’t an ideal servant? Yes. This I know. She remains…inexperienced. An excellent maid, certainly, but too nervous I think for this task. I am hoping you can forgive me. Servants are hard to find locally, because of the superstition and fear of my castle. I have only had a chance to find two, plus the old caretaker who you have already met.”

“So Feathery Snipper used to work here all alone?” said Rarity. She paused. “That actually explains a lot, come to think of it…”

“Three?” said Sweetie Belle, looking somewhat shocked.

“Yes, I’m afraid. I am in the process of hiring more in advance of the wedding, but at the moment, only three.”

“Then what about the other unicorn?”

Fleur looked to Sweetie Belle, confused. “Other unicorn?”

“Yeah. I saw him in the garden when we were coming in.”

Fleur looked to Rarity, then back at Sweetie Belle. “There are no other unicorns here, apart from us three. As I have said: I am the very last De’Lis. And Fancy Pants has business to attend to in Canterlot until next month.”

“So…you don’t have a unicorn servant too?”

“Unicorns don’t keep unicorn servants,” said Rarity, as though that were something obvious. “It is considered pretentious or outright gauche.”

“But Diamond Tiara’s family has, like, five unicorn servants.”

“I know,” said Rarity.

“Then who did I see?”

“Was it you, Fleur?” suggested Rarity.

“I do not believe so. I was indoors most of the day.” She paused, and smiled. “Ah! What it was, it must have been one of the statues! There are several on the grounds, and some are quite realistic.”

“Oh,” said Sweetie Belle, unconvinced. “It didn’t look like a statue, though…”

Growing quiet, Sweetie Belle picked up an apple from one of the plates that contained several. It was not unlike the apples of Ponyville, although slightly smaller. The surface was smooth and perfect, and Sweetie Belle turned it over admiring the perfect ripeness while Fleur and her sister began to talk about something boring and fashion related. Sweetie Belle was no expert on apples, but she had spent a great deal of time with Applebloom, who was literally named after them for some reason. She knew a well-formed apple when she saw one.

When she bit into it, though, she almost choked as the fetid fluid inside squirted into the back of her throat. On the inside, the apple had long since decayed into a mixture of rot and maggots.