She did not dream that night.

She sat up, the bed creaking underneath her as she looked around the room. Sunlight filtered in through the window across from her. Dust held in the air, slowly drifting down onto the begrimed carpet.

Yawning, she stretched her hooves over her head, grimacing as her joints popped. Rubbing her eyes with her hooves, she pulled herself out of bed and headed toward the kitchen.

She’d adapted to navigating in the dark, as electricity was as precious as everything else was since the war had begun. This was mostly to her benefit, as she would likely wince at the state of her home if she could see it clearly at any given point in time.

Pressing her hoof against the wall, she rounded a corner and stopped once she felt the ceramic tile underneath her.

Ever so slowly, she lifted a cast-iron pot with her magic, filling it with water and setting it on the stove top. Each morning was a dull and habitual routine, but the rosehip tea almost made it worth waking up.

She barely added enough rosehips to tint the color of the water. The brew would be weak, but she couldn’t afford to use too much, as she didn’t know when she’d have more. Each cup reminded her of her mother, as it was one of the few gifts given to her.

She sat in the dark, drinking her rosehip tea, humming the lullaby that she used to sing to her little sister.

If she focused hard enough, it was almost like the boutique.

“U-Seventeen forty-six! They need you at Station A!”

Rarity cringed as the stallion’s coarse voice bellowed across the room. She squeezed past a mare in front of her, not having enough room to maneuver around without scraping against her.

Long gone were the days where Rarity had the luxury to complain regarding personal space, or much of anything at all, for that matter.

She adjusted her cap with her magic as she smeared the sweat off her brow with a free hoof. The lack of proper insulation, combined with the cramped work space made for one hot and miserable summer. She breathed in through her mouth, preventing herself from smelling the musk of dozens of ponies who hadn't bathed for days on end.

Rarity would have cried from the stress of the whole situation if she wasn’t so dehydrated.

Rarity nodded to the pony across from her as she approached her station. Her co-worker was a pegasus mare labeled ‘P-1489.’

Rarity didn’t know her real name, and likely never would. Where Rarity worked, she was only known as U-1746. The last ponies to call her ‘Rarity’ were her parents… and her baby sister.

Rarity blinked the tears out of her eyes, as she often did whenever an image of Sweetie Belle flashed across her mind. She couldn't look weak in her workplace, it wasn't good for her image, the little identity she still possessed.

She would have attempted to strike a conversation with her co-worker in order to appease her growing boredom, though that wasn’t exactly the wisest decision.

Rarity and the others worked day and night to produce clothes for Equestrian soldiers to wear, which required her full attention. Any conversation could result in a lapse in concentration, which would hinder the war effort.

And sweet Celestia, they needed every advantage they could get, no matter how miniscule it was.

Nevertheless, Rarity couldn't stop her eyes from meandering, staring out the window next to her workstation. Sunlight inundated her side of the room. The sky was painted a brilliant blue, with streaks of white to complete the image. It inspired her to achieve something greater.

Alas, she lacked the materials to act out her dreams, as the war effort consumed everything of value, especially textiles.

She had made due with what she had, but that wouldn't stop her from remembering Equestria for what it used to be. Even if you weren’t a soldier that fought on the frontlines, you were still contributing to a war, another cog in the murder machine.

Rarity let out a soft sigh as she lamented everything she’d been missing since the war. Coffee, makeup, Sweetie Belle…

She felt her eyes watering again as her head drooped low. She didn’t want anypony to see her crying, she was stronger than… than this.

A cough caused her to look up. Across from Rarity, her co-worker held out a handkerchief.

“Please… take it. You look like you could use it.”

Rarity let out a small hiccup as she took the handkerchief from the mare. As she wiped her eyes, she studied P-1489.

A small and comforting smile held on the lovely mare’s face, and while the yellow in her coat had lost some of its luster, her youth kept her beautiful.

“What's your name, miss?” Rarity asked her.

P-1489 gestured to her nametag, but Rarity raised a hoof in protest.

“Your real name, please.”

A small blush appeared on her face. “M-my name is F-Fluttershy.”

Rarity felt her lips curl. “Fluttershy… what a beautiful name.”

Ding!

A bell interrupted the tender moment. Rarity’s new found friend flinched from the noise.

“O-oh, I guess it's time for our break,” Fluttershy said, her ears lowering.

Rarity nodded, the smile remaining of her lips. “I suppose it is. I think I’ll step outside for a little while, maybe breathe some fresh air.”

As she turned to face the main entrance, she heard Fluttershy shuffle behind her.

“W-wait!”

Rarity turned her head to look at the mare, beckoning her to continue.

“Um… y-you never told me your name.”

Rarity giggled. “It's Rarity, my dear.”

“C-can we please talk some more when you get back?”

“Of course.”

And with that, she trotted outside, albeit with a now noticeable skip in her step.

Manehattan was a ghost town.

She had been placed in this demilitarized zone in order to support the war effort. While many ponies resided in what was left of the city, very few walked the streets.

No trash littered the ground, for it was all reused and recycled for one thing or another. There weren't any pigeons or rats, either, as they had all been eaten by griffons, Equestria’s avian allies. Even Manehattan’s trademark smell of nicotine had dissipated long ago after cigarettes had become a rare commodity.

All that accompanied her now was a rough wind that blew through her tattered mane.

Rarity yawned as she rubbed her eyes with a hoof. The dark bags under her eyes were clearly visible against her alabaster coat, and her slow shamble only further confirmed her fatigue. It was difficult to be anything short of exhausted by now, though her day wasn’t even halfway over.

She rounded the corner of a street block, giving a passing glance to the vacated store on her left. It looked like it used to be a bookstore, the sign across the top hanging by one nail, the paint barely visible against the backdrop.

Books, like everything else, didn’t last long in the war. If they didn't help Equestria win, they were burned for warmth during the winter. Or, if a pony was starving enough, they’d strip the adhesive that bound the books together and eat it. Glue didn’t have a pleasant taste, but that didn’t matter if it kept you alive. Manehattan was a metropolis, which meant even grazing wasn't a viable option in times of desperation.

Rarity shuddered. She hoped it would never come down to that, though the gnawing in her stomach was telling her otherwise.

Clang!

Metal against concrete interrupted Rarity’s thoughts. The sound’s source came from the alleyway just behind her. Instinct told her to run, but she stood her ground regardless, a culmination of morbid curiosity and fear holding her in place. Rarity was not one to scare easily, not since the war, yet her heart continued to pound in her chest.

Ever so slowly, Rarity approached the entrance of the alleyway.

Thunk!

Rarity raised a hoof in defense as a trashcan toppled over in front of her, a young colt hitting the ground and scrambling up against the wall across from him.

He was a gray earth pony, though he was as gaunt as a ghoul. His ribs were easily distinguishable, and the trembling in his hooves hadn’t ceased ever since he’d seen her. He said nothing, the fear evident in his eyes.

Rarity’s heart lurched in her chest. There were no more children in Manehattan, as they’d all been evacuated shortly after the war had begun. Since he was still here, it meant that he had no one to turn to.

“E-excuse me? Can you tell me your name, dear?”

He shook his head in fervor, pressing the back of his head against the wall and eyeing the ground in front of him.

“Please. You can trust me,” Rarity pleaded.

His eyes refused to meet hers, his gaze still locked on the asphalt.

She followed his gaze. Just a few feet away from him was a small rabbit plush, though it had clearly seen better days. Rarity seized the toy in her magical grip and held it in front of her face. He gasped in protest, weakly holding his hooves up in front of him.

“Don’t worry, darling, I won’t break it,” Rarity cooed.

That alone was a difficult promise to keep, as one wrong move would likely cause even further damage, yet she held it as carefully as she could while she inspected it.

It was torn in multiple places, its stuffing hanging out the tears in the fabric. It was also missing both an ear and a button eye. There was little she could repair without supplying fabric of her own. She didn’t have any to spare… unless…

Rarity encased the cuff of her sleeve in her magic, slicing off the end and holding it up next to the rabbit.

“I suppose I’ll just have to explain to my boss that there was a sewing accident.”

She winked at the colt as she pulled out a needle and thread from her back pocket. With expert precision, she carefully placed the stuffing back inside as she sutured the rabbit’s wounds shut. It wouldn’t look pretty, but at least now it wouldn’t just fall apart.

Rarity’s tongue stuck out of her mouth as she rotated the toy around. It was cathartic to work on something other than a uniform, even if she had to ruin her own in the process. There was nothing that could be done about the missing ear or eye, but it was in one piece again. She levitated the rabbit over to the colt before dropping it in his lap.

He held it in his hooves, cradling it as if it was a child of his own.

Rarity gave him a frown of sympathy. "Do you have anywhere you can stay?"

His stomach growled. He winced. "There’s a shelter..."

He slowly stood up, before staring blankly down the alleyway.

Rarity cleared her throat. "What were you doing just now?"

He sighed, tracing the grooves of his ribs with his hoof. "I'm starving, ma'am. We all are, I reckon."

Rarity pawed at the asphalt. The pit in her stomach was feeling even more hollow. She pulled out her ration cards from her pocket, she could go without eating for a day.

The colt looked back at her, his eyes widening as he saw the what the mare held in her hooves.

“Ma’am, I don’t know if I can—”

“Please, take them.”

He glanced at them in hesitation, slowly approaching her and seizing the cards from her grasp.

“Why? You don’t even know me…”

Rarity gave him a soft smile. “I don’t need to know you. I just know that you’re a young colt. You need food a lot more than I do. I’m a grown mare, I can handle myself.

The colt embraced her, burying his hooves in her mane.

“Th-Thank you.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now go and get something to eat, and stay out of trouble, please.”

He nodded and began to retreat into the alley, but before he did, he called out to her one last time.

“What’s your name, miss?”

“U-Seven— Rarity, my name is Rarity,” she replied with a blush.

“You’re a nice pony, Miss Rarity. Equestria needs ponies like you.”

And with that, the colt was gone.

Rarity was back at her workstation, manipulating her loom with energy once more.

Fluttershy took notice of this, a small smile on her face. “You seem to be in a better mood. Did that walk make you feel better?”

The pain in Rarity’s stomach had left her, replaced with a sense of fullness that further drove her enthusiasm.

“Yes, dear, I do feel better.”

Rarity stared up into the sky once more and giggled. For a single second, she’d sworn she could see a rainbow in the sky above her, though, she supposed, it was merely her imagination at work.

I do matter—to everypony that knows my name… my real name. A name isn’t just a list of numbers, but what meaning you yourself place upon it.

She was Rarity, and neither a war nor anything else could ever take that away from her.