Apart from the rotting apple, the meal otherwise went well, at least at first. The conversation had gone slightly better once rarity was there, mostly because Sweetie Belle had to talk less- -even though, strangely, Fleur suddenly seemed to take a much greater interest in her.

The food has also been good, if a little strange. Sweetie Belle normally ate relatively little, focusing mostly on leafy greens, sometimes with various salad dressings on a rotating schedule. She was not accustomed to the heavier, richer foods that Fleur seemed to prefer. Their plates were abound with exotic breads and cheeses, as well as accompanying soups and carbohydrate-heavy dishes. Sweetie Belle was even allowed to have an admittedly small amount of pony wine, which was apparently customary in Prance. As much as Rarity and Fleur seemed to like it, to Sweetie Belle it just tasted like moldy grapes, and she hardly had more than a single sip.

Because of the combination of these things- -the bad apple, the heavy food, and the gross wine- -Sweetie Belle began to feel ill by about the time the dessert course started. This only grew, and Sweetie Belle did her best to hide that she was feeling unwell, even as she began to grow more and more nauseous and ill.

For the most part, she did a good job of it. By the time dinner had finished and she was permitted to depart the table for bed, she actually felt somewhat better. Being away from the food helped, even if she felt strangely woozy as she walked through the now mostly dark hallways of the castle.

She was not alone, of course. After some coaxing, Silver had coaxed Muguet to return and to make an attempt at redeeming herself; she was then given the task of walking Sweetie Belle to her room for the night. Silver himself had joined Feathery Snipper on a trip into town to collect Rarity’s luggage, and Rarity and Fleur had retired to a private room elsewhere in castle to enjoy a bit more pony wine and to discuss Fleur’s upcoming wedding and the dress that she might desire, as well as those she needed for her bridesmaids. That left Muguet as the only pony available to help Sweetie Belle.

Had Sweetie Belle not felt so terrible, this actually would have been an exciting situation. She had never met a thestral before in person, and had not even realized that a white color morph even existed for them. Adding to the intrigue was the fact that Muguet was only slightly older than her, and as fillies they probably shared at least some things in common.

Whatever illness was afflicting Sweetie Belle, though, had sapped her strength, and she could barely maintain even basic conversation. She could not even muster the strength to ask about Muguet’s cutie mark, which from what she could tell was a metal pail for some reason.

“Miss Sweetie Belle?” said Muguet at last. “I feel I really need to apologize to you. For my behavior at the dinner.”

“Behavior?”

“Yes,” said Muguet, nodding. “You are one of Lady De’Lis’s guests, and I failed. Right there, in front of you and Mistress Rarity, and the Baroness herself!” She winced. “And then I ran away like a coward instead of biting my lip and doing the job that the Baroness trusts me to do. Had you not rescued the food, dinner surely would have been ruined.”

“Don’t worry about it,” muttered Sweetie Belle. “Trust me. If ponies could get arrested for messing up, I’d be more wanted than Scootaloo at a hugging convention.”

“Your display was quite impressive, though,” said Muguet, clearly trying to attempt a compliment. “I have never seen magic like that.”

“Really? I just lifted some food. It isn’t that impressive. I’m sure Fleur can do a lot more. I mean, have you seen that horn?”

Muguet blushed and shook her head. “Indeed, I have, and it is an impressive horn, but I have rarely witnessed my Mistress use her divine abilities. She did appear impressed with yours, though.”

“Well that explains…” Sweetie Belle stopped suddenly, and the world seemed to swim around her as her nausea returned in full force. It took everything she had to keep her dinner down, but she did drop to her knees.

“Miss!” cried Muguet, dropping the lantern she was carrying and rushing to Sweetie Belle’s side.

“I don’t…oh wow. I feel BAD.”

Muguet put her hoof to Sweetie Belle’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever. Please, allow me to help you.”

Sweetie Belle hardly had a choice, but she let Muguet help her up. Despite her youth and size, Muguet was surprisingly strong, and her short coat was soft and smelled nice.

“The lantern,” mumbled Sweetie Belle, noticing that Muguet was leaving it behind.

“I am thestral,” said Muguet. “I do not need it. Just hold me tightly, Miss.”

Sweetie Belle did, or at least as tightly as she could. For a moment, she was sure that she blacked out, and had no idea for how long. When she awoke, she was being taken into a room. It was dark, but the moonlight shining through the two enormous windows on the far side of the room provided enough glow to see that the room was quite large, with the edge populated by a number of pieces of matching heirloom furniture, a fireplace, and a desk. There was even an antique-looking phonograph, something Fleur had likely had placed there knowing Sweetie Belle’s passion for music.

The center of the room was dominated by a large canopy bed, and Sweetie Belle had never felt so glad to see such a bed before in her life. Muguet, who was now experiencing some difficulty, gently led Sweetie Belle to the bed and helped her climb in.

“What the hay is happening to me?” gasped Sweetie Belle. Her voice had become hoarse, and a strange metallic taste was filling her mouth. “Of all the things…food poisoning?”

Muguet looked away, paused, and then shook her head. “No. This is not entirely unexpected.”

“You know. What did you do to me?”

“No, you misunderstand! This sickness is common here to those new to the castle. Even I became quite ill when the Lady De’Lis first brought me here, as did Silver Sight, although neither of us with a case so bad as yours. Lady De’Lis says it is something in the water, something that takes time to grow accustomed to. But your reaction is far greater than I’ve seen.”

“I feel like crap,” moaned Sweetie Belle, pulling herself deeper into the bed. The sheets had an amazing threat count, and she cursed under her breath that she was not healthy enough to enjoy it.

“Do you need me to stay with you?” asked Muguet.

“What? No. You don’t have to do that.”

“But I CAN do that, if it is your wish. Remember, I am a servant, and so long as I am here, I am YOUR servant. If there is anything I can do to help…”

Sweetie Belle paused for a moment. “Just some water, please? I’m so thirsty…”

Muguet smiled softly. “Water. Yes. I can bring that. Just drink it careful. It is, after all, what is causing your sickness.”

“Oh,” said Sweetie Belle. “Right…”

As Muguet left the room, Sweetie Belle felt herself drifting into unconsciousness again. One moment, she felt her eyelids falling, and the next she opened them to find that the room was still dark but that a glass of water had appeared on a small coaster on her nightstand. As delicious as it looked, Sweetie Belle was simply too tired to reach it, and quickly fell back asleep.

When she awoke a second time, her status had changed quite substantially. Because of the sickness, she had awakened in a state of delirium. The world around her looked strange, and the way the moon-shadows fell made the room seem so much larger than it was. She was not sure where she was, or why she was there, or whether or not she was even awake at all.

Her eyes slowly drifted about the room, staring calmly at the darkness. Then they suddenly stopped, and Sweetie Belle sat for a moment, confused as to why she was focusing on that one spot just at the tip of the moonlight. Then she felt her eyes widen as she realized that she was staring at a pony.

Beside her, barely illuminated by the now dim moonlight, stood a tall white unicorn with an almost grotesquely thin body. Sweetie Belle stared at the unicorn for a long moment, wondering if she was dreaming, before realizing that the unicorn was looking back at her, watching in the darkness with unblinking eyes and with a strange smile.

It was this smile that caused Sweetie Belle’s groggy mind to realize that something was very, very wrong. That unicorn should not have been there, although Sweetie Belle did not know why. Her heart began to beat quickly, and she felt herself wheezing as her breathing increased and the taste and smell of metal in her mouth and nose became almost unbearable.

The unicorn then started to move, almost gliding over the floor but still making dull hoofsteps against the wooden floor below. Sweetie Belle wanted to sit up and to run, or to hide, but found that she was unable to move. The only thing she could do was close her eyes and wait, listening as the hoofsteps drew closer, and closer- -and then as they stopped and slowly departed. Relieved, Sweetie Belle kept her eyes closed for a moment longer before opening them.

When she did, she found herself staring into a pair of long-dead gray eyes inches away from her own.

Sweetie Belle shot up with a start, her body drenched in cold sweat. She winced as she did, finding the room around her flooded with bright sunlight that hurt both her eyes and her head.

“Oh buck,” she said, covering her eyes with shaking hooves. As much as the sunlight hurt her, she realized that she did feel somewhat better. Supposedly she had not had a fever, but whatever she had had broken anyway, leaving her weak and shaky but feeling marginally better. “Note to self,” she said. “Stick to salads. Bland, bland salads. And no more pony wine.”

She sat like this for a moment longer before lifting the covers off herself. When she did and looked down at her body, she cried out in shock. Her legs and torso were covered in massive, ugly bruises. Sweetie Belle immediately racked her brain trying to even guess where they had come from, whether she had been somehow beaten or restrained without realizing it- -but she remembered nothing, save for the strange dream of the white unicorn.

At the same time as Sweetie Belle was sitting up in bed, far across the castle grounds Rarity and Fleur were already awake and walking together through Fleur’s extensive ancestral gardens. The pair of them had gone to sleep quite late after a long night of catching up, and Rarity had awoken quite early with a slight headache from perhaps a little too much pony wine the night before.

This would have made for a somewhat unpleasant morning had it not been for the fact that Feathery Snipper and Silver Sight had arrived back from the village very late the previous night with all of Rarity’s luggage in tow. This left Rarity overjoyed, and she was able to acquire some clothing that she thought was fitting of staying at the palace of an Equestrian noblemare. For her, this consisted of a hat and a waist-length blouse. Fleur, meanwhile, had dressed as well, wearing only a thin silver necklace with a large blue gem in the center. Even that, it seemed, was only to make an attempt to match Rarity: as per usual, Fleur preferred to remain absolutely naked to display her exquisite nude body to anypony who cared to witness it.

Seeing her like this in the lush and ancient garden, though, caused Rarity to suddenly begin to realize why Fleur’s mother had such a propensity to have herself painted in nature settings. The mottling of the light cast down through the trees overhead from the overcast sky made Fleur’s white coat seem almost to shimmer, and the contrast against the rough and nearly black trunks and deep green of the hemlocks and yews seemed to draw all the attention of the quiet garden directly to her. Rarity knew that it was rude to stare, but she could not help herself. Something inside her felt strange in a way that she had never felt before.

“Beautiful, no?” said Fleur.

Rarity stopped suddenly and blushed. “What? I didn’t- -how did you- -I- -”

Fleur pouted slightly. “You mean you do not like my garden?”

Rarity, now understanding what she meant, breathed a long sigh of relief and laughed. “Oh yes, darling. It is simply magical. Although, in all honesty, I never picked you to be one to favor this sort of thing.”

“I would say there are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” she said, smiling slyly at Rarity. “But, no, I would not have picked myself for such a hobby either. This was actually my mother’s pride. I used to play here as a young filly, to spend hours beneath these trees or amongst my mother’s flowers. I suppose it is…nostalgia? Fond remembrance? I’m not sure the word.”

“Your mother planted this?”

“Well, no, not personally,” laughed Fleur. “She simply expanded it, and ensured that it was cared for.” Fleur looked down the small path that they were walking together down. “And Feathery has done an excellent job maintaining it in my absence.”

“Indeed.”

The two continued to walk down the path in silence, and Rarity could not help but feel like she was getting far more distant from the castle than should have even been possible. It had seemed to vanish behind the greenery, and the air had become silent. There were not even the sounds of birds or insects. Rarity knew that there was a wall surrounding all of it- -but she could have sworn that they were miles away from where they had started.

The path eventually began to change, and was bordered on either side by a set of raised planters that clearly predated Couleur De’Lis quite considerably. They were made of gray stone which had been allowed to become overgrown with moss and lichen. A sort of mountain laurel had been planted atop them: thin, gnarled trees that reached over the path with their dark twisting stems, reaching for what light they could manage to acquire through the ancient trees that surrounded them.

Fleur stopped, and Rarity realized that they had come to an area of the path where it widened and surrounded a large statue. Rarity stared at it for a moment, marveling in its obvious age. It, like the stones of the planters, showed signs of weathering and immense antiquity. Despite the weathering, though, the subject of the statue was still clearly identifiable: an all-white unicorn, standing on his rear legs and staring at the sky with blank, stone eyes, his body carved from a strange sort of stone that looked as though it had once been white many centuries before.

The statue was surrounded by a pool that had been constructed around it. The pool contained several deep green floating plants that sat upon the inky water, and Fleur approached it. She looked down into the water, and then up at the carving of the unicorn.

“Your sister,” she said at last. “Her magic is strong, no? Her display last night was quite impressive.”

“Sweetie Belle?” said Rarity, confused.

“Do you have another sister?” asked Fleur, turning to Rarity and raising one eyebrow.

“No, it’s just that- -she’s Sweetie Belle. And not that I want to disparage her skills, but…she only levitated a plate of food.”

“Several, in fact. It is not a matter of raw strength, though. You of all ponies know that. It is in precision, reaction time, perception. And in these matters your sister is quite gifted for her age.”

“Oh,” said Rarity, not sure if she should feel proud or jealous. “Well, she spends a great deal of time practicing. She even has received training from Twilight. Twilight Sparkle, that is.”

“The Princess?” Fleur seemed somewhat intrigued. She looked back up at the ancient statue. “Indeed, this makes more sense, then. I have unfortunately not met the Princess of Friendship in person. Not yet. But her bloodline and mine have intertwined many times in the distant past.”

Rarity’s eyes grew wide. “Wait,” she said. “Fleur, you don’t mean…you DO mean. Twilight is related to the De’Lises?”

“My surname is both singular and plural,” corrected Fleur, “but yes. Our families once commonly exchanged members, back when House Twilight was still strong. Before they started breeding with the coloreds.”

“Then that means Twilight is nobility?”

Fleur turned around again. “Have you seen Shining Armor?”

“Yes,” admitted Rarity. “Although I have to admit I never found him as impressive close up as from a distance. His voice is…odd.”

Fleur continued to stare at Rarity for a moment. “Rarity, perhaps you do not realize how remarkably appropriate your name is.”

“Oh, trust me darling, I most certainly do.” Rarity was quite flattered. “As much as Rainbow Dash claims to be the most awesome pony in Ponyville, I do believe I exceed her in several key categories.”

“I do not doubt this,” said Fleur, “but it is also not what I meant.”

“Oh,” said Rarity, her expression falling a bit. “Then…what exactly did you mean?”

Fleur paused for a moment, as if she were composing her thoughts. “You are a white unicorn.”

Rarity smiled, relieved. “Oh, well, yes,” she said. “As are you. And I must say we both look amazing. You slightly more so, though, I’m sure.”

“And do you not realize the significance of that?”

Rarity paused. “Um…no?”

“The birth of a white unicorn outside of a noble house is almost inconceivable. No, it IS inconceivable. A commoner being born with this trait, it never occurs. But in your bloodline it has happened twice.”

“Commoner?” said Rarity.

Fleur’s eyes widened as she suddenly realized how insulting that had been. “It is not what I meant,” she said, quickly. “Please, I did not tend to offend. Alicornic, it is a challenging language sometimes. But what I say remains true!” She put her hoof on Rarity’s shoulder. “You, and your sister, are both one in many millions. And I find myself honored to have both of you here, and to have both of you attend my wedding. Your presence will be indeed a portent of great luck.”

“Well, thank you, Fleur, I didn’t realize- -” Rarity suddenly froze. “WAIT!” she gasped. “I’m- -I’m actually INVITED!”

Fleur looked shocked, and then laughed. “Well of course! You came all the way here just to make the dresses for my wedding, and it would be only fitting if you could be the mare of honor- -”

“Mare of…” Rarity looked around for a couch on which to faint. Upon not finding one, she did her best to contain herself.

“Yes,” said Fleur, seeming somewhat abashed. “I do have to admit, you are more Fancy’s friend than mine, but my lifestyle has…well…” She sighed. “I have so few real friends. You are one of them. And your sister, I find her immensely adorable. She conjures thoughts of the daughters I so wish to have, that they could be as beautiful and show such promise.” She paused, and the pause went on for several long seconds before Fleur spoke again. “Rarity, I am good at maintaining my composure, so you may not be able to tell, perhaps? I am extraordinarily nervous waiting on your response.”

“Darling, yes, of course!” squealed Rarity. “Of course of course OF COURSE!”

“Oh, I’m so glad. This means- -”

“It means that we need to get to work right away!” cried Rarity. “Those dresses certainly aren’t going to make themselves! I need to get you into a studio and start measuring, right away!”

“I do like being measured,” mused Fleur. She smiled. “Shall we get started, then?” 0%