Still groggy, Sweetie Belle attempted to make her way through the castle. It was enormous, to the point where she had a hard time understanding how this kind of thing could be a house at all- -or how Fleur managed to keep her sanity living here with only three other ponies.

The entirety of it seemed strangely ominous. Everything that Sweetie Belle saw was neat, clean, and at least mostly modern. This was not some decaying ruin like the Castle of the Two Sisters, but somehow that only made it worse. A ruin was supposed to be empty, but this house, with its rooms stocked with furniture and its halls filled with artwork or elegant designs, was the opposite. It was meant to have ponies in it, perhaps many- -and yet there was no one. It was silent and empty.

Even when Sweetie Belle eventually managed to find her way back to an area that she at least thought she knew, it occurred to her that she had no idea how she was supposed to eat breakfast. In her own house, it made perfect sense: either her or her mother would go to the kitchen, make food, and then eat it. For noble ponies, though, everything was so much more complicated: Sweetie Belle had no idea if she was supposed to go to the big dining room and get served, or if she should go to the kitchen, or if perhaps there was another room dedicated specifically to breakfasting.

This normally would have been just an annoyance, but Sweetie Belle was already weak from the night before. She tended to get tired easily, and she had to take breaks sometimes, as much as she did not want to. The emptiness of the castle around her and the strange paintings, architecture, and windows looking out on thick greenery beneath an overcast gray sky all seemed to merge together to convert her inconvenience into a cause of strange fear.

She wanted to break out running, to just try to get outside and away, when suddenly Sweetie Belle smelled something. It only took her a few seconds to realize that it was the smell of food. The path immediately became clear to her: she just needed to sniff her way to victory.

This, of course, was quite easy, and after only a few minutes she had reached a kitchen. This gave her pause, as it did not look like what she would have expected at all. She had imagined Fleur’s kitchen as being much larger, like the kind a restaurant would have. This one was much tinier, and had a well-worn table and a few chairs set up on one side across from a bright window over the sink.

Sitting on the table was a plate that seemed to contain the footsuffs that Sweetie Belle had smelled. It contained several crescent-shaped rolls, as well as a few slices of fruit. Sweetie Belle had not realized how hungry she had become, and immediately started drooling.

“Miss Belle?” said a voice behind her that caused Sweetie Bell to jump almost to the same height as the wooden table. She turned around quickly to see Muguet holding a glass container of milk, returning Sweetie Belle’s surprised expression. “What are you doing here? You should not be here at all!”

“I don’t even know where ‘here’ is!” cried Sweetie Belle, her sudden aggressive tone making Muguet jump back. “I’m so lost! All I wanted to do was get something to eat, and I can’t even figure out how I’m supposed to do THAT!”

Muguet blinked. “No, you misunderstand! This is the servant’s kitchen. I only meant that this is not where you should take breakfast. Lady De’Lis tends to favor the conservatory, or the garden if the weather is nice.”

“What the hay is a conservatory?” cried Sweetie Belle. She groaned. “I have no idea what any of this stuff IS!”

“I’m sorry,” said Muguet, looking ashamed. “I’ve failed again, I think.” She paused. “Where do you normally have your servants serve breakfast for you?”

“I don’t have them serve it at all!”

Mugeut looked confused. “Then who serves it?”

“I serve it! To myself!”

“I don’t- -I don’t understand- -”

Sweetie Belle suddenly realized how uncomfortable she was making Muguet, and sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just really hungry, and I had a bad night. I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just that I’m not sued to all this servant stuff.”

“Not used to it?” Muguet paused. “Don’t you normally have a staff?”

“Like some sort of wizard?”

“No, as in servants, gardeners, handymares, cooks, maids, so forth?”

Sweetie Belle blinked, suddenly understanding the situation a little bit more. “Oh. No, of course not.”

Muguet gasped. “But you are nobility! Why would you not have them?” She gasped again. “Is it because you find being in the presence of lower classes that abhorrent? Then- -then I am truly sorry, Mistress Belle!” She bowed, nearly tipping over her milk. “I didn’t realize! I’ll go, and inform the others that- -”

“That isn’t what I meant!” exclaimed Sweetie Belle. “Sweet Celestia! How much coffee did you drink this morning?”

“None,” said Muguet. “Lady De’Lis says it will stunt my growth.”

“Well, she’d be an expert in that category.” Sweetie Belle paused. “But that’s not the point. My family doesn’t have servants because we’re not nobility. We’re just ordinary ponies, just like everypony else. As much as Rarity sometimes likes to pretend she’s not.”

Muguet looked even more confused. “But…you are the white unicorns.”

“We are. But we live in an ordinary house in an ordinary village and do ordinary pony things.”

“Oh,” said Muguet.

“You actually thought Rarity and I were nobles?”

“I assumed that was the case. You are friends of Lady De’Lis, after all. I thought you were members of her caste, or relatives.” Muguet’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh no! I have presumed! Please forgive me!” She bowed. “Then you must be as confused as I was when I first came here! I am so, so sorry!”

“It’s okay,” said Sweetie Belle, feeling more and more uncomfortable. Even though Muguet seemed to now understand that neither she nor Rarity were nobility, she was still treating Sweetie Belle as though she was, and that sort of thing had always made Sweetie Belle a little anxious. “We can call it even if you can show me where to eat. Those crescent things smell REALLY good…”

Muguet looked to the table, and then at Sweetie Belle. “The conservatory is downstairs. I can show you- -”

“But we’re already in a kitchen. Can’t we just eat here?”

Muguet seemed astonished, but actually smiled slightly. “Well, yes. Of course, if that is what you wish. Even if you are not of the noble class, you are still the guest of Lady De’Lis. I would be loath to refuse a request. Assuming you do not mind sharing a meal with a mere maid.”

“Why would I mind that?”

Muguet smiled. “Ah,” she said, placing the milk on the table. “I do sometimes forget, how the ways of things are in the West. Please sit down. I have more croissants in the oven. I made extras for Silver, but I do not think he will mind if you take a few. Also, we have milk now.”

Sweetie Belle did what she said and sat down on one of the chairs at the table. She watched as Muguet got out a pot-holder and opened the old-fashioned stove. The smell of crescent rolls immediately filled the kitchen, and Sweetie Belle continued with her drooling.

Muguet placed the rolls on the counter. “You said you slept poorly last night?” she said, “I am sorry to hear that. But happy to see that you are healthy again. I was worried.”

“Yeah,” said Sweetie Belle. “Whatever I had is gone now. But I woke up with all these bruises…”

“Yes,” sighed Muguet, plating the rolls and slicing several apples for Sweetie Belle. “That happens from time to time.”

“Time to time?”

“To you. To me. To the others, save for Lady De’Lis. She alone remains unscathed.”

“But what is doing it?”

Muguet picked up Sweetie Belle’s food and shrugged. She crossed the room and set it down, then returned to her own spot next to Sweetie Belle. “I wish I knew,” she said. “They do not hurt, though?”

“No.”

“Then it is the same bruising. You may also find some blood when you go to the toilet, if you have not already. Do not be alarmed, it is harmless.”

“Easier said than done,” muttered Sweetie Belle. Although she was happy that Muguet had at least warned her, her dismissal of the problem as a mundaine part of life was mildly infuriating. It was not normal, nor did it seem to have a logical reason. It concerned Sweetie Belle, as did her unusual hallucination the night before.

Despite being almost noon, however, it was still too early to think about such things. Sweetie Belle lifted one of the rolls on her plate and took a bite. It was actually quite good, but only because she was so hungry.

“Wow,” said Muguet. “I wish I could do that.”

Sweetie Belle pointed the remaining half of the pastry at Muguet’s plate. “You have two right there.”

“I know,” she said. “But it is not what I meant. I mean the magic. Just think of all the things I would be able to do!”

“Like what?”

“Well, I could prepare food much more quickly. And moving chairs would be easy. As would be cleaning.”

“But if you were a unicorn, Fleur wouldn’t hire you. She doesn’t hire unicorn servants.”

Muguet’s eyes widened, and she suddenly looked down at her plate. “I did not think of that.” She reached out with her mouth and took a small bite with of her food. Sweetie Belle noticed that Muguet had unusually long and sharp teeth.

“Well, I think it would be great to be able to fly,” said Sweetie Belle. “I can’t do that. Yet.”

Muguet smiled slightly. “It…is a nice ability. But I’m not very good at it.”

“Trust me. I’ve met ponies a lot worse at flying than you. If you just keep practicing, you’ll be fine.”

“Really?”

“How do you think I got to be this epic at using magic?”

Muguet giggled quietly, and then took a sip of milk. “You know…when Lady De’Lis said that she was having guests, this is not how I imagined you.”

“I don’t know if that is a good thing,” said Sweetie Belle, now trying the fruit. It was some manner of muskmelon, perhaps one of the earliest of the season or an import, and it tasted quite ripe despite having a badly scarred rind. “What did you expect me to be like?”

“Regal. Elegant, and mysterious. Like Lady De’Lis.”

“I see. So I’m not those things…”

Muguet stiffened. “No, no! That is not what I meant! Instead…here you are. Sitting with me, like this, eating the same food. Not above me, and not judging me for what I am.”

“What you are?” asked Sweetie Belle. “And what exactly are you? Apart from a thestral. I can see that. But that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Thestral? Oh, no. That is not it. It is that I am…” she paused, and then looked away.

“What?” said Sweetie Belle. Muguet shook her head, and Sweetie Belle raised an eybrow. “Well, then, I’ll just guess. It’s not…” Her eyes widened. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

Muguet looked shocked. “N- - no!” She squeaked. “Not at the moment, at least! That is not what I meant at all!”

“Then what?”

Muguet opened her mouth, but hesitated again. Sweetie Belle thought that she was going to have to make another guess, but Muguet lowered her head and spoke so softy that Sweetie Belle almost failed to hear her.

“I am blanco,” she said.

“Blanco?” said Sweetie Belle, suddenly realizing that she recognized the word. “I’ve heard that before. That’s what the people in the village were calling Rarity and me!”

Muguet looked up suddenly, her eyes widening but her vertical pupils narrowing. It was a strange sight that Sweetie Belle found more than a little disturbing. “They said that to your face?” she said. She appeared to be angry at the idea of it. “To- -to say that to you like that! It isn’t the same! Not with unicorns! And yet- -yet they still did…”

“What does it mean?” asked Sweetie Belle. “I don’t speak their language.”

“It means white,” said Muguet. “But there’s more to it than that. It is a very, very bad slur. Because they hate us. For our color.”

“That’s terrible!” cried Sweetie Belle, standing up so fast that she knocked over her plate and glass of milk. She immediately grasped the spilled liquid and glass in her magic and reassembled them before the liquid could reach the table. “I’ve never heard of that, though,” she said, sitting back down. “All the guides on Prance- -”

Muguet shook her head. “It is not all of Prance. Just this region. Here, the three villages, the neighboring counties, and even the towns in the mountains to the north. That is where I am from.”

“But they can’t do that! Just because you’re a white pony!”

Muguet’s eyes seemed to darken. “And yet, they do.” She looked up. “Did you not wonder why Silver has only one sighted eye?”

Sweetie Belle paused. “Um…no, I didn’t. I just sort of accepted it.”

“A fact that he no doubt very much appreciates it. That eye, he lost it because they beat him.”

“Beat him? Who beat him?” Sweetie Belle clasped her hooves to her mouth, and suddenly realized that she felt more sick than hungry.

“The ponies in his village. When they caught him trying to beg for a loaf of bread. He nearly died. His left eye was ruined in the attack.”

Now Sweetie Belle definitely felt sick. “And…and you?”

“And me,” sighed Muguet. She looked down at her food. “And me…It is even worse for my kind, sometimes. So few of us are born this defective. My family, they rejected me. They considered me cursed. I was left to die on the streets.”

“You’re not defective,” said Sweetie Belle. “But…how did you survive?”

Muguet looked up, and suddenly appeared far older than she had before. “There are not many jobs for a blanco mare, save one. And I…I had to do things that I am not proud of.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to,” said Sweetie Belle. She shivered. It was almost impossible for her to imagine what Muguet had gone through. Even worse was the fact that she was only a few years older than Sweetie Belle herself, but had never had any of the things that Sweetie Belle often just expected were standard things: a family, friends, a future. This made her as sick as it made her angry. “I’d…I’d actually rather not know. But you’re here now, aren’t you?”

Muguet’s eyes lit up at this, and she wiped away a tear to smile. “Yes!” she said, excitedly. “I am, and we are! The Baroness, she understands. As a unicorn like you, she is beyond reproach, but she took pity on us. She saved us. She gave us an occupation with dignity, a home.” She leaned forward. “I will be honest with you now, Ms. Belle. I love Lady De’Lis. With all of my heart. I would do anything for her. She is the most dear thing to me of this whole world.”

This changed Sweetie Belle’s opinion of Fleur slightly. Before, she had not known to much about the pony, apart from the fact that she was one of Rarity’s fashion friends and that she was of noble blood. Knowing that she had gone out of her way to hire white ponies, even though they were so badly hated by everypony else, made Sweetie Belle feel a bit warmer toward her. It confirmed that Rarity was very good at picking her friends.

Muguet continued. “Lady De’Lis has promised that, one day, she will take me to serve in her staff in Canterlot. She says that in that part of the world, ponies will not hate me because I am ugly.”

“You’re not ugly,” said Sweetie Belle. “I think you’re kind of cute, actually.”

“Thank you,” said Muguet, blushing slightly. “But the point still stands. Here, even with all the Baroness had given me, I have no hope of a full life. But there, no pony will care that I am white. I will be able to have friends, comrades, lovers. Perhaps a handsome lunar guard?” She giggled at her fantasy and blushed much harder than before.

“You and I are already friends, though, right?”

Muguet looked suddenly astounded. “We- -we are?”

“Well, if you want to be. I mean, we’re not enemies.”

“Oooh!” squealed Muguet. “I’ve never had a friend before!” She teared up slightly, and wiped her eyes. “This is so- -this is so excellent!”

“First? I thought Silver was your friend, right?”

“Oh, he doesn’t count. He is like a brother. In a sense, we are. That, and he is old.”

“He’s not older than Rarity,” remarked Sweetie Belle. “And besides, he’s actually pretty hot.”

“Attraction toward a white pony,” said Muguet, looking amazed. “So the stories of the West are true, then.”

“Indeed,” said a male voice. Sweetie Belle nearly jumped out of her seat as she turned around to see Silver standing behind her.

“Mr. Silver!” cried Sweetie Belle. “I didn’t- -I didn’t know you were there, and I didn’t- -I mean- -” She looked to Muguet, but Muguet only giggled, covering her mouth with one hoof. She apparently found this endlessly amusing.

Silver just smiled amicably and turned to Muguet. “Woke up a little late, Muguet?”

“Slightly,” she said. “I got to bed very late. Sweetie Belle had the water-sickness, and I needed to stay awake in case she needed me.”

Sweetie Belle turned sharply to Muguet. “You did that? For me?” Muguet just nodded.

“Well, I hope you’re ready for another big day,” he said, smiling mischievously. “Because Mistress Rarity would like to see you.”

Muguet suddenly appeared afraid. “Wh- -why? It wasn’t the towels, was it?”

Silver laughed. “No, no, the towels were fine. I guess, I didn’t ask her. She just needs you for a…ahem…special task.”

“Ha,” said Sweetie Belle. “You ARE going to have a busy day.”

“You too, Mistress Belle,” said Silver. “She sent me to find you both.”

The fate that Rarity had planned for them both was, indeed, quite horrible. Muguet could not have known the situation that awaited her, but as soon as Sweetie Belle walked into the large room that had been assembled as Rarity’s workshop, she felt her heart sink and then slowly fill up with fear. As much as she wanted to run, she knew that it was impossible, and her only consolation was that she would at least be able to share her misery with Muguet.

Due to the limitations of international shipping, Rarity had not been able to bring her ordinary mannequins with her. So, instead, she had found a different set of dummies.

“Rarity!” cried Sweetie Belle as Rarity pressed several swatches of fabric and an early draft dress against her, as well as wrapping her sensitive inseam with measuring tape. “STOP!”

“No, you stop,” said Rarity. “As in stop complaining. You’re doing an important job! But hold- -STILL!”

She wrenched the far too small prototype dress off of Sweetie Belle and brought it back to center where she was working and where Fleur was investigating several sketchbooks that Rarity seemed to have composed sometime within the last hour.

“Why am I even doing this?” cried Sweetie Belle, feeling as though she was on the verge of weeping from sheer boredom.

“Because, it is CRUCIAL that I understand how the fabric looks on white ponies. Blending colors with white is remarkably difficult! And I have to keep the thematic identity PERFECT for every bridesmaid and groomstallion!” She lifted a swatch from Sweetie Belle, and compared it to one that was a sample of extremely pure white silk with a complicated twining pattern. “This combination is simply divin! What do you think, Fleur?”

Fleur looked up from the sketches as Rarity held the white fabric against her. “Hmm,” she said. “I was hoping for something with more lace, perhaps!”

“Oh, YES!” cried Rarity. “I lace would be EXCELLENT! Especially if we go with something sheer…”

“Now, now,” laughed Fleur. “Remember, Fancy Pants will need to get through the ceremony without sweating himself into a fainting spell!”

Rarity and Fleur both blushed and laughed, and Sweetie Belle groaned loudly. “This is so DUMB,” she said.

“I don’t know,” said Muguet, who was wearing a prototype dress of her own and standing in for a Pegasus. “I feel so special! I’ve never worn clothing this fancy!”

“I agree,” said Silver, who was serving as a rather excellent model male model for Rarity’s suit designs meant for Fancy Pants’s entourage. “And the craftsmareship on this is exquisite!”

“Oh you,” said Rarity, disassembling part of his collar. “It isn’t even done yet!”

“Well, of course not, but I recognize quality when I see it.” He said this, of course, while looking at Rarity. Sweetie Belle pointed her hoof at her mouth and pretended to gag. Muguet saw this and stifled a giggle.

“You will of course be getting your own suit, dearie.”

Silver looked startled at this. “Me?”

“Of course, you! You and Miss Muguet are going to be working the wedding, aren’t you? It wouldn’t do to have you wearing just ANY uniform! You need to match! I’m thinking something in black…”

“Are you sure you can do all that?” asked Silver.

“Tut tut! Don’t doubt me!” said Rarity, returning to her sewing machine. “I most certainly can! Although it is going to take a prodigious effort…but for my friend, it is all worth it! I intend to do the very best I can to make sure this wedding goes off without a single hitch or misplaced cufflink!”

“Well,” said Silver, stepping down from the small platform that he had been standing on, “if you need help, I know how to sew.”

“It’s true!” said Muguet. “He is responsible for maintaining our uniforms! And I have several very nice maid outfits that he made for me!”

“A stallion that can sew?” said Rarity, seeming amazed. “And an earth-stallion , too?”

“I’m not a professional,” admitted Silver, “but I can take orders. If there’s anything I can do to help you, and to help with Lady De’Lis’s wedding, I would be glad to work beside you. Or under you, as the case may be.”

Rarity immediately turned a rather dark shade of red. “Well- -um- -if you- -if you could get Miss Muguet’s wing angles, that would- -um- -”

“If she doesn’t mind me touching them, sure.”

“I do not mind,” said Muguet, extending her somewhat grotesque leathery wings.

Silver started measuring her, but suddenly stopped. “Actually,” he said, dropping the tape onto Muguet’s face. “Don’t we have the prior Baroness’s dress in storage? Out in the old side of the castle?”

Fleur gasped. “Yes!” she cried. “I had forgotten!” She turned to Rarity. “If you could incorporate elements of her dress design into mine- -if that’s not too much to ask…”

“Oh, of course not! In fact, it might give me some insight into how in Equestria anypony manages the fit on somepony so tall.”

“I’ll go get it!” said Sweetie Belle, stripping almost immediately and stepping down from her platform.

“No you won’t!” said Silver. “The old section is no place for a filly!”

“They don’t even let me go there,” said Muguet. “It’s dangerous.”

“It is true,” said Fleur. “But if you require a break from this excitement,” she winked, “you could find Feathery Snipper. She is no doubt in the garden. She handles the old storage. I believe she has even assembled her own museum of sorts out in the old ballroom. She should be able to find it.”

“The garden?” For some reason, that made Sweetie Belle feel slightly apprehensive. “Right. I can do that.”

“Just hurry back!” called Rarity as Sweetie Belle escaped. “We’ll be doing hat-fitting in the afternoon!”

Sweetie Belle hurried away as quickly as she could, and soon found herself out in the castle again. Specifically, she was walking down a long arcade with high stone arches over it. Architecturally, it was impressive, and even with the gray light from outside it still looked far more pleasant than many of the other places in Fleur’s home.

Almost as soon as she started walking down it, though, Sweetie Belle began to feel strange. Her stomach hurt, and much to Sweetie Belle’s horror she realized that she was starting to feel a lot like she had the night before.

“The rolls,” she said, followed by a string of Scootaloo-quality swear words. “The gosh-darn crescent rolls!”

This realization that she had inadvertently poisoned herself drove Sweetie Belle into a panic, and she started running. As she did, though, the world seemed to grow hazy around her. She felt herself taking desperate turns and twists, growing increasingly lost as she moved through the hallways.

She could not breathe. The entire world was fading to silver, and Sweetie Belle was gagging on the taste of metal in her mouth. She needed to get out, to escape, to get to somewhere were somepony- -anypony- -could help her.

Instead, she struck an area of smooth tile in an unfamiliar part of the castle. Almost instantly, her hooves slid across the surface, and she felt herself falling. Lights flashed across her vision as she landed on her side. The wind was knocked out of her, and either the impact to her head or whatever was wrong with her left her passed out and unconscious.

She did not know how long she remained still and unable to move. To her, it felt like only seconds, but when she finally managed to open her eyelids, she saw that the area around her had grown dark. It was night, and standing over her were too ponies: a black-haired Pegasus, and beside her, a tall all-white unicorn, his eyes gray and empty as they stared down impassively at Sweetie Belle.

“Chert,” swore Feathery Snipper under her breath. “It’s happening again…”

Sweetie Belle tried to struggle to stand, but she was far too weak. She just fell back into the wet, sticky pool that had formed below her and lapsed back into a daze of semiconciousness. The last thing she felt before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep was the feeling of being picked up harshly and the feeling of wings poking into her belly as she was thrown over a pony’s back. (]>��{