The school hall had been completely transformed from its normally empty auditorium and into a lively area swarmed with guests in the upper and lower floors. Tables were covered in expensive cloths, plates and cutlery and, of course, food of all types. In the corner came a slow cello playing something melancholy, the groan of the instrument expanded across the room and over the mummers of the crowd through amplifying magic the conductor carried with each gesture of his baton. A less magical sight that served the same purpose were nearby the auditorium’s stage. Speakers and a microphone, though still housing the innate magic responsible for electric currents, were designed for the non-magically inclined, if the need for an earth or sky-folk to speak to the massive room came about.

Celestia, one never for glam or extravagance, didn’t sit up high at the seats reserved for her and her sister on the other side of the room, rather, she sat at a humble table nearby the stage, a glass of wine in her silken hands. She wore a white dress, done in a Greek style; a single piece of long, billowing white cloth, with a belt hung high, just below her full breasts, and before the start of her wide, sensual hips. On seeing the group enter, she raised her glass toward them and threw a bare arm to the back of her chair as unseen winds continued letting her pastel hair gently dance behind her.

The woman’s sister, Luna, sat next to Celestia, looking every bit uncomfortable as Celestia was in comfort, due to her her obviously militaristic, stiff posture and hauberk adorning her body. She rose from her seat on seeing the group, showing first a stylized gorget with a gem at the center of the metal neckguard, and then, once Jack’s eyes traveled from her neck to Luna’s hips, Jack was far from surprised when she caught sight of a shortsword tied at the belt of Luna’s garment. Luna put a hand to her breast and bowed, traveling towards the group as Celestia moved away, heading toward a door that Jack knew from experience lead to a stairwell that, in turn, lead to the back of the stage.

Twila returned the gesture Luna offered gracefully and approached the all-folk, breaking from the group and meeting Luna towards the middle of the room.

“Prin—” Twila stopped herself. “Luna,” she corrected, remembering well Luna’s dislike of Twila addressing her by title. “ A pleasure to see you again.”

“Hail to thee, Twila Shields,” Luna addressed. “Warm days and pleasant nights to thine companions as well.” She gestured to where she had sat a moment ago. “Willst thou join me at the table?”

“Of course.”

They traveled to the small table Luna shared with Celestia and sat as Luna did the same.

“So, are the festivities about to begin?”

“Indeed. Mine sister was waiting for either thee and thine companions, or upon the clock striking nine, whichever arrived to her first. A simple few words she shall speak, then the floor shall be open to the lovers and their partners.”

“Ah, I see.”

Twila turned to Luna, right as her friends began making their own conversations with one another, shuffling a bit away from the opening leading inside.

“It’s good to see you again,” the girl said, grinning so wide there came dimples to her cheeks.

Luna warmly smiled to Twila. “Mine journeys hath kept me away from lovely Camelot for far too long, verily. I am anxious to spend at least a few moments of respite at home.”

“Did you have a nice time, at least?” Twila asked.

“As good of time as one can have, living the life of a knight-errant. Mine travels took me across many a distant land, and left me fatigued. However, the reward was worth the weariness set within mine bones. The beasts plaguing the Norfolk’s eastern front have been culled.”

“I knew you could handle it,” Twila remarked. “In any case, I’m sure this party is a welcome relief for you.”

“The respite is indeed a relief, as thou say. Though my mind questions why creatures seem to be plaguing our lands in far greater numbers. ‘Tis not something I’ve seen since the days of mine father and his first journey across Cabello.” She frowned, pointing to Twila. “Years prior, attacks such as the one I stopped would happen only once every decade, at worst. Now, Iron Will and the brave warriors that accompany him have to be ever vigilant, ‘lest we become overwhelmed by monsters. Something… ‘tis out of balance, ye, I bet mine sword hand upon it.”

Twila leaned forward, placing both her hands on the table. “Then let me help! I’m sure there’s some ancient text I can dig up. Or if you prefer a more action orientated role, my magic can surely suffice against most standard threats.”

Luna leaned forward herself, putting her pale hand on top of the woman’s. “Nay, brave Twila. If Celestia is the mind of Cabello, and I am the arm, thou art the heart. We need thee at the capitol, prepared to speak to the people if things grow more awry.”

“But…” Twila slumped down in her chair. “That’s hardly a proactive role. I’d hate to simply stand aside and look pretty for the crowds, while you two do all the hard work.”

“Diplomacy is far from simply looking pretty. I…” She gave a tilt of her head in thought. “Have naught the tongue or patience for the matter. Research at Camelot if ‘tis thine wish, but keep thine main goals in mind.”

“With due respect, I’m beginning to wonder why you gave me this title in the first place. A ruler must be strong, correct? Strong rulers do not wave to crowds for only obligation, or sit for days on end reading.” She looked around the school hall, frowning. “I’m still studying magic as it is!”

“Mine sister is the one that gave thee your title. And a ruler becomes strong, it is not simply born within them, no matter who may say as such.” She tapped the table in thought. “Twila. Keep to thine studies and thou will become a better ruler than I could ever hope for.”

“That remains to be seen,” Twila replied, laughing to herself.

“Believe, Twila.” Luna reached over, giving as motherly of a pat on the woman’s head as she could. “As thine friends and family do to thee. As myself believes in thee. As mine sister believes in thee with every pump of the heart that beats betwixt her breasts.”

Twila closed her eyes, letting the words sink in for a few seconds. “I’ll try. I’ll try to, Luna.” Opening her eyes, she glanced at the Nightwalker. “I apologize for my outburst.”

“Thou are forgiven. If that is thine definition of an outburst, then I dread to think of when you catch me upset,” Luna replied with a small smile. She looked behind her, towards the stage. “I believe Celestia is about to bless the floor for the dance. You should find a partner for it, Lady Shields.”

“And you as well.” She stood up, scanning the dance floor. One person in particular, was evidently not present. Or at least not in her sights. “Where’s Will?”

She smiled. “I had thought the fool would remain up north, but he travels to here as we speak. We shall see him in flesh incarnate within the hour.”

“You sure you’re going to be okay here until then?” Twila asked, straightening her dress. “I’m sure I could save a dance for you, if you wished.”

“Perhaps later. Thine first one should be for someone special, after all. I’m sure it will make their night, seeing a woman of such beauty in their arms.”

“You spoil me with such gracious compliments.” Twila smiled, heat coming to her dark cheeks. “Have a lovely evening.”

“Thou as well, child. Thou as well.”

Twila gave her a little curtsy, then stepped onto the dance floor, just in time to see Celestia began her speech. The all-folk cleared her throat, almost instantly commanding the attention of everyone in the room. A warm, welcoming smile was there to greet them, her words gentle, yet still demanding respect.

“Good evening, everyone,” she addressed the crowd, beaming out at them all, “First of all, I would to thank you all for attending the party. It's good to get away and embrace revelry at times, for many, myself included, work takes precedence over play and sorrow over joy. Tonight, I ask that you embrace your inner child.”

Jack clasped her hands in front of her. Inner child, she thought, bemused.

It wasn’t a foreign concept, just one she could only half relate to. Her childhood was great those first years she could remember. But those memories were tainted a bit by losing her mother and father all but back-to-back a spell down the way. It was like a pleasant summer day being hit by a harsh, unexpected thunderstorm.

It didn’t hurt near as bad as it did when it first happened—she knew she’d see them again, once she laid down for the last time—but it was still something she didn’t like to dwell too hard on.

Rarity looked over to her; Jack smiled.

Inner child, Jack thought again. Though this time, her thought turned for a small beat towards Rarity’s desire.

It was a sort of strange mix of elation and terror that visited her thoughts when she thought of a kid, Rarity’s kid. It was a plunge off a cliff in the middle of the night. You hoped you hit water more than anything, but you couldn’t know, not in the slightest, until you hit.

She was kind of grateful that Mac and Zecora were having theirs on the way. Maybe some time with it might teach her the basics. She wasn’t stupid on kids by any means—Bloom was raised right after all—but it’d be the first attempt without her granny around.

An’ yer gonna pay fer every second-a hell ya gave me, girl, she could almost hear her grandma’s voice in her head. Her voice from when she was healthy, before sickness ate away at her, and the image of the older woman, her hands at her hips and nodding her head almost as fast as she waggled her finger when she lectured Jack. The farmer had to bite a lip to keep for laughing out loud; an effort that rewarded her with a single loud snort of laughter.

Celestia's brief speech continued, snapping Jack away from herself. “To start the festivities, we will open the floor with a slow dance. I suggest everyone to find someone close to your heart, whether you can dance well or not. May your evening leave behind many happy memories.”

The audience politely applauded as she gave a small bow.

Seeing Celestia was finished, Jack looked to her friends, grinning. “Well? Y’all better get a partner.” She took Rarity’s hand. “I already got mine.”

“Who?” Rarity asked, following after Jack. “Please tell me it’s not Chylene.”

Spike looked to Pinkie as the group splintered off further. “W-well, you wanna maybe—”

He had no time to finish his sentence, Pinkie grabbed his hands and swung the boy round and round. “Of course I wanna dance!!”

“Awesome. Ok. Yeah, let’s do this,” he said, psyching himself up.

Celestia, meanwhile, returned to her table and sat down next to Luna, her smile wide as she took another glass of wine to her mouth.

“Thou hath been imbuing spirits all evening, sister. Are ye trying to lose thine sense of balance?” Luna remarked.

“It’s fine, Luna. We don’t get the opportunity to relax like this often. Live a little,” she replied, giving a small raise of her glass for emphasis.

“Nay. T’would be folly to be a drunkard this evening. I am thine guard and protector.”

Celestia’s smile dipped slightly. “Luna… you don’t have to always be ‘on.’ I’m able to protect myself just fine. I insist, at least get a little rosey-cheeked.” She leaned over, giving a small touch of Luna’s pale face. “You look like a ghost among the living. Have you been eating well?”

“Over my journey, we had very little time for hot meals. Most of it was composed of trail rations and dried meats.”

“Then get some food and relax!” Celestia exclaimed. “No wonder you look sickly.” She pointed towards the buffet on the other side of the room. “Eat. I’ll be fine.”

“But—”

“Do I have to make it an order?”

Luna sighed, rising despite herself. “Very well.”

“And get me a slice of pie while you’re up.”

“Cherry?” Luna guessed.

Celestia grinned. “You know me so well, sister.”

“And thou know I the same,” Luna agreed, reaching and giving a small squeeze to Celestia’s hand before heading towards the table. She paused, turning her head. “But when we discuss business later on, I demand I am there.”

Celestia’s smile faltered further. “Of course. You’ll be the first to know.”

“Then with your leave…” Luna bowed, heading towards the buffet.

Twila watched her go and took in a breath. She moved, taking Luna's seat when the all-folk was out of earshot. “Is something going on?” she questioned, facing her former mentor.

Celestia smiled. “There’s always something going on, isn’t there, Twila?”

Twila let out a familiar little groan. “Yes, there is. But from that conversation, I get the feeling you left unfinished business behind.”

“Business that’s yet to be started, actually,” Celestia carefully replied. She looked down thoughtfully at her glass, her smile dying once more. “Would you like a drink?”

Twila held up a hand. “It’s fine. I can get one.”

Celestia gave a small gesture of her hand, and a bottle of champagne appeared—materialized—from the table, rising up from the linens like a flower blooming. She looked at the label.

“From Carcassonne, when I was a young girl about your age.” Celestia snapped her fingers, and a glass appeared in much the same way the bottle did moments ago. “This reminds me of something…” she said, slyly grinning towards the woman as she poured a drink. “Maybe of a child I was tutoring who snuck into the castle’s wine cellar one night when she thought nobody was around.”

Twila felt heat at her cheeks. “I was curious! Every adult made wine sound so grown up, I just had to try…” She reached over for her glass, swirling its contents slightly. “Thank you.”

“The hangover you had was punishment enough.” Celestia laughed, the sound far more informal than Twila was used to seeing on a daily basis working with her. Normally it was a dainty thing, just enough to show she was pleased. This, however, was a hearty thing that threw her head back amid her dancing hair. “And now I’m sharing a drink with you. I can’t believe it.”

Twila couldn’t help herself; only the most cold of people failed to smile at that laugh. “My life’s definitely been a whirlwind of change. I still don’t know what’s going to happen next. A far cry from my solace in studies,” she said, grinning as she took a sip of her wine and hummed approvingly.

“Life is a far cry from academics,” Celestia agreed. “I’m glad you see that now. While studies are important, some of the most important things in life are illogical, random things. Friendship. Anger. Love. If you approach them simply from an academic standpoint, many of them can be arguably boiled down to chemical reactions.” She took a drink. “If you only view one side of the situation.”

Twila looked back at her friends, dancing away together. A fond smile appeared on her lips. “I never thanked you enough for opening my eyes to the other side of things. When you sent me here, I didn’t understand why. After meeting Rarity and Diane I started to understand a bit more.”

“I’m glad I’ve been able to do that for you, Twila. I want to see you successful and happy, after-all.” Celestia poured more champagne into her glass, laughing. “This is a good vintage. I can already tell I’m going to overindulge tonight.”

“You?” Twila scoffed out of disbelief. “Overindulge? I’d shudder to imagine how many units it would take for an all-folk to get affected by alcohol…”

“Ask how much it takes Jack to get drunk. We have about the same metabolism as an exceedingly healthy earth-folk.” She reached over, putting a hand on Twila’s. “You need to remember that we’re not gods, no matter what people consider us. We can get drunk, we can get hurt, and we can overuse our magic. Remember that, please, Twila.”

The touch of her hand brought such feelings of warmth to the woman that it took nearly all of Twila’s strength not to hold it in return and helped her from focusing on Celestia's remarks about overusing magic. It had happened to Twila before, and was a part of the change that turned her into an all-folk. But getting reminded of her near death experience tonight wasn't what she was hoping for. Instead, she focused on a different angle of the woman's words. “I admit, it’s difficult to think of you anything less than perfect. Maybe not a god, but…” She trailed off, fumbling for her glass and taking an awkward sip.

“I’m not perfect,” Celestia said instantly, then smiled once more to the woman. “You can ask my sister about my numerous flaws, like drooling on the pillow when I fall asleep.”

A giggle let itself loose from Twila. “Really? That’s… kind of cute.”

“A pity Luna never saw it that way. When we were children and shared a bed, there were many mornings I’d wake up to her beating me with a pillow for that very reason.” She looked toward Twila and leaned forward, cupping a hand at her mouth in a whisper. “But that’s fine. She peed the bed until she was nine.”

That little tidbit nearly caused the wine in Twila’s mouth to burst free. She swallowed harshly, looking at Celestia with wide eyes. “You can’t tell me that! That’s a private sibling matter!”

“Oops,” she answered with a laugh, her eyes sparkling as her smile widened further. “See? it’s this wine. It’s letting my lips grow loose around friends.” She leaned forward, resting her chin on her bridged hands. “Maybe you should let me in on a secret to call it even.”

“I..." She paused, the only secret coming to mind the obvious. The sight of the woman stalling her words. "I don't know," she finished lamely.

"Ah, I see. You'd rather not share. I understand." She smiled, raising a glass toward Twila. "I can respect your reluctance."

"Sorry."

She waved a hand. "Think nothing of it. What manner of mentor would I be if I hurt you?"

Twila draw a hair of courage from within her and blurted out, "Even if it's about you?" She gasped, swearing internally at the sudden action.

Celestia tilted her head. "About me?" she repeated. "Is something the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter, and that's the problem." Twila rubbed her temple. "Can we change the subject?"

She gave a slow nod, sipping again at her wine. "Very well," she stated, casually dismissing the entire conversation. Twila looked flatly at her.

"What? You're not even a bit curious?"

"Of course I am. But If you don't wish to share, I won't press the matter. It will come to life soon enough if it's something you need to express."

Twila looked at her own glass and downed her drink in a single swallow. "I have feelings for you," she stated, bluntly, the approach so different from her typical approach to words and her life that Celestia paused, a hair taken aback.

“Feelings…” Celestia didn’t need Twila to elaborate. “I see,” she said neutrally, looking down at her drink. She rolled the wineglass thoughtfully with her finger and thumb, watching the drink slowly spin. “That leads to questions, if I may.”

“Ask away,” Twila said, breathing deeply in order to keep her composure; something she had actually picked up from Spike, as she watched him practice his fire breath.

“I… you mentioned earlier that you thought of me as perfect. Are you sure that you don’t...” She glanced thoughtfully towards the ceiling. “Could you just be having these feelings for the idea of me?”

“Perhaps if I was only a citizen, whose only glimpses of you were from propaganda and royal events. But I’ve seen more of you than that. And what I've seen, everything, I've liked. You make mistakes and say the wrong words sometimes, but that doesn't stop you from being perfect to me.”

“I’m, admittedly, afraid of how you feel.” She thought for a moment, trying to clarify herself. “I’m afraid that I somehow cultivated these feelings in you. That they’re not something you grew to naturally.” She met Twila’s gaze. “I want you to be your own woman with your own decisions. Can you look me straight in the eye and honestly say how you feel again?”

“Okay,” Twila said, closing her eyes to prepare herself. “I can.” When they opened, she found herself gazing right into those crystal clear eyes of the all-folk. If eyes were the window to the soul, then the all-folk’s had incredible depth. Nearly everything spoke from them. The beauty and joy of life. The wisdom of years. The loss and isolation she had felt. Every emotion spoke of hundreds of others, of days, both good and bad. It was enough that Twila swallowed, her nerves making her shiver.

"I-I think with some time I could see you as a lot more, Celestia. If I have a chance."

Celestia sighed, not a thing of dismissal, or relief, but something of some mild trouble as she considered her words again, feeling like the conversation was a maze, the tale of the labyrinth housing creatures the Norfolk were said to resemble in the days of old. “A few years ago, I would have dismissed this entirely. But I’ve said time and time again now: you’ve become a woman. A woman able to make her own decisions in life. And if one of those decisions is pursuing me, well…” She leaned forward, giving a quick squeeze of Twila's hand. “I'll need time. There may be a possibility. I won't swear to it yet, but I will try to see of growing to care about you in a different way than I’ve had in the past. I’ll need to stop remembering the sweet young girl with her eyes in a book all day, and instead focus on the beautiful, kind, brave woman she grew up to be sitting in front of me.”

"You make it sound like I'm wanting to date my mother," Twila stated flatly, the long-suffering expression on Twila's face making Celestia laugh, breaking the degree of tension she held.

"It's simply a strange circumstance. I am your senior by a generation and more." She gave an unsure tap upon the table. "Yet, you're closer to me than any near my age. We can consider this. I won't dismiss instantly. That's the best I can offer."

Twila stared, surprised at Celestia's acceptance. She finally beamed at her. "A chance is all I want. Yes. I'll very much agree to those terms."

"And you'll agree that if things are too bizarre for me...?"

"No hard feelings." Twila nodded. "I just wasn't expecting this."

"Neither was I. I thought you might have had a crush on one of your peers, not myself."

The younger woman rubbed the back of her head. "Well. Ok. Now that we got that out of the way, how about we go on the floor?"

Celestia smiled. “Are you suggesting we dance?”

“What else? We awkwardly shuffle about?”

“Considering it’s me dancing, that sounds more like the truth.” Celestia rose, holding her hand out to Twila. “Do you know how to lead?”

“My mother taught me a few things but I’m no expert,” Twila replied, rising and taking Celestia’s hand. “I thought you would know more than me.”

“I’ve had my share of partners through my years. Though they were men. When I was younger, the men and women ratio in Cabello was far less skewed. It was rare to see two women together,” Celestia explained. “I just assumed someone of this generation would be more comfortable leading.”

“Well, we can see where the music takes us, right?” Twila suggested, walking with her to the center of the room.

Celestia chuckled. “At the very least, I’m glad you’re learning not everything needs to be planned.”

Spike glanced over at Celestia and Twilia as he held on desperately to Pinkie, the woman’s pulls and tugs as they danced nearly throwing him down time after time. Once he finally had a moment to pause, he shook his head.

“Did you—” he began, only for her to interrupt.

“Catch me!” she cried, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and leaning onto him.

His reactions were spot-on and he caught her, stumbling back, nearly crashing backwards into Twila’s side, but managing to right himself just in the nick of time, leaning forward and shuffling a few steps to gain his balance again. “Caught,” he replied proudly. “What’s my prize?”

“This,” Pinkie said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “There’s more for you if you take me over to the drinks.”

“At your service!” he proclaimed, carrying her towards a table in the corner lined with snacks and drinks. His arms shook, but he kept steadfast in his resolve, taking one step, then another, finally pausing to suck in a breath, the drinks so close, yet so far away. “You’re kinda heavy,” Spike said, then, with a nervous grunt that halfway resembled a laugh, he added, “in the best way possible.”

“Well I’m taller than you, so that’d probably do it,” Pinkie replied, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah… you’re taller than me,” he said reluctantly. He gave a small toss of her to adjust his grip, then pressed on, finally coming to the drinks just as his arm gave way and flared to life in a cramp. “Y-your humble chariot brought you here.”

Pinkie stretched her arm out, grabbing a glass of punch off the table, a few ice cubes floating about in there. “What do you want, Spikey?”

“Do they have orange soda?”

“Down there!” Pinkie said, pointing at a collection of glasses filled with fizzy orange liquid.

He walked over to one and lifted the arm that hurt less, grabbing a cup and swallowing the drink down in one pull. “Man, that’s good,” he said, pleased.

“Excellent! Now, back to the dance, my noble steed!” Pinkie ordered, wiggling her legs about. She raised her glass to her lips, keeping one pinkie finger held up.
Spike looked around briefly, before settling on some grapes resting on a platter. “Want a few before we start up again?” he asked.

“Can I feed you some?” Pinkie pondered.

Spike blinked, surprised. “W-well, I was gonna suggest that exact thing for you. But if you wanna feed me instead…”

“I wanna do it. So just close your eyes…” Delicately, Pinkie put her fingers on Spike’s eyebrows, then dragged them down, forcing his eyes to close shut. Next, she picked up a grape and delicately put it into his mouth.

He laughed a hair and she put a finger to his lips, silencing him. Fetching another grape, she this time put it at her lips and leaned forward, meeting Spike’s lips with her own. As they kissed, she brought a hand to the back of his neck. The ice cubes from her drink dropped from her hand, going down Spike’s back.

Spike clenched forward, his eyes shooting open as they traveled down, He reached to his belt and shook his pants hard, flinching away from the cold as much as he could. One came out, then another, but Spike still jerked erratically, before finally reaching down into his briefs and pulling out the last offender, throwing it down on the ground.

“N-no,” he said with a mask of calmness. “That’s great, wonderful, even. Couldn’t be happier that you did that.”

Pinkie hopped off him, taking to spinning around on one foot. “Now, are you scared that you won’t be able to top me? Want to call it quits on the war?” She put her other foot down, stopping instantly and grinning down at him.

“If you’re scared you can’t top this somehow, we can let this count as your prank.” He returned the aggressive grin up at her. “But you’ll regret keeping it when I do mine.”

“You soooo sure you can prank me properly?” Pinkie said, pointing her thumb at her chest. “You’re talking to the gal that dressed up like a chicken on Hallow’s Eve!”

“Twila has some stories to tell of me, let’s just say that. Ask her about the ‘lead incident’ sometime.”

“Maybe I will,” she replied, turning her gaze to Twila, dancing slowly with Celestia. Then she looked at Rarity and Jack, who were dancing in a similar manner, except theirs had a lot more passion. “It’s good to be back here, y’know? I love visiting my folks ‘n’ all but… blah, don’t belong there.”

“They seemed nice enough,” Spike said. “A little…” he struggled to find the right words to not offend her. “Plain, maybe?”

“They’re rock solid,” Pinkie said, knocking her fists together. “And I’m cotton candy.” Demonstrating, she reached up to her hair, pulling the long strand that went down her face. Upon letting go, it rebounded back and her whole hair seemed to bounce.

“You are pretty sweet,” Spike agreed. He jokingly put a strand of her hair in his mouth, before pulling it out. “But you’re pretty tough too. Don’t think otherwise.”

Pinkie’s gaze lingered on Jack, before going over to Dash and then Gilda. “Maybe. But I’m not like the Three Musketeers over there.”

“There’s different strongs. Rarity’s strong, and she’s not hunting monsters like them.” He wrapped her up in an embrace. “And you’re the same way.”

“Soooo I’m not Chylene then.” Pinkie giggled quietly, conspiratory. “I’m kidding. She’s a great gal.”

“She is. And in some ways she’s tough too. Just… not at first glance like you.” He gave a small push to her bicep. It yielded to him, but not as much as her more sedentary looks would suggest, her strength evident in the ease she carried herself. “Earth-folks, I swear.”

“Not all of that’s magic, y’know. I mean, most of it is.” Pinkie tensed her arms up. “But I did my time back home. It was hard work, lemme tell ya. Cows sometimes always don’t agree with ya so you gotta give ‘em a bit more than a nudge to get them going.” She slapped her own bicep and this time, it did not falter.

“Think you could out-muscle Jack?” Spike asked with a grin. Then, sheepishly, added. “Also, that’s, uh, kinda hot.”

“Didn’t think you’d be into that kinda thing!” Pinkie chirped. “And nah, Jack could still totally kick my butt any day of the week, I bet.”

“What’s wrong with liking muscle?” Spike asked, looking around the dance floor to make sure they weren’t watched, before giving a small rub to the back of her thigh, enjoying the feel of it tensed up and taut. “It’s… I don’t like it too much on Jack, since it’s always kind of obvious just from the way her arms curve, but, it’s like another side of you, I guess.”

“I’m full of surprises, Spikey. I take after my Granny Pie for that. And my Granny Pie from her Granny Pie,” Pinkie elaborated. “Most of the time, I only need to be happy, party gal Pinkie. And that’s a good thing ‘cause that’s the side of me I like the best!”

“I like that side too.” He kissed her on the chin. “I could say I like every side of you, though. Every angle, even.”

“Even my sad side?” Pinkie asked, almost neutrally even, as she kissed Spike’s forehead.

“It’s one of the few times I can say stuff to make you feel better, instead of the other way around.” He stared up at her eyes. “I might not look it, but I am a man, Diane. I like being able to help where I can.”

“D’aw,” Pinkie cooed, bending down and rubbing her nose against Spike’s. “You are so good to me, Spike. You know that?”

“Of course,” he replied with a smug grin. “I’m a ladykiller. I know how to treat my girl right.”

“Don’t get too cocky now,” Pinkie said teasingly. “You still haven’t slain a big bad monster in my name yet.”

“That’s more Jack’s area of expertise.” He shuffled on his feet, blushing. “You haven’t done things for me yet either. I’m still waiting for a home-cooked meal and a song about my greatness. Maybe then we can talk about monster-slaying.”

Pinkie feigned a huge shocked gasp, putting a hand to her mouth. “Why I oughta… sure I can cook, but you can’t cage this free spirit! No sitting at home wearing just an apron for yoooou!”

“Then don’t expect me to go around killing monsters. I’m a gentleman,” he countered just as easy. “Though I bet you’d look nice with an apron on…”

“A tight-fitting one, with ‘Kiss the Cook’ on the front?” Pinkie asked.

“Or a frilly one that sits low on your chest,” Spike replied. “Either one’s… I need to stop thinking about it.”

Pinkie grinned. “Self-control counts for a lot, trust me. I’d be a really fat piggy if I didn’t have it in me.”

“Would you call yourself… ‘Plumpy Pie?’” he questioned.

“Ew, no,” Pinkie shot down. “Piggy Pie!” she almost squealed, snorting like the mentioned mammal.

Spike giggled, his grin covering his face cheek-to-cheek at her mannerisms. “Piggy Pie it is. I’ll remember that name if your metabolism ever craps out.”

“Hopefully it never will~” Pinkie sang. She instantly dropped it the next second. “No, seriously. My doctor said baaad things would happen if it did.”

“Well, even if you do get fat, I’ll still like you,” Spike said. “Pinkie promise.”

Before he knew it, Pinkie had grabbed his hand tightly and was staring deep into his eyes. “Do the motions.”

He did just that, crossing his heart with a finger, then gesturing to his eye.

The moment he pointed at his eye, she relaxed instantly. “That’s better.”

“Just my word not good enough?” he asked with a half-smile.

“It is. But Pinkie Promises always mean something special to me. I get everyone to do the motions ‘cause it means they know what’s coming if they even think about breaking them.” She snorted, then suddenly beamed and patted Spike’s head.

“Ok, ok, you don’t have to treat me like a dog, Pinkie,” Spike pouted, crossing his arms.

“Oh, so you don’t wanna be my bitch?” she whispered, giving a wicked smile his way.

“H-hey,” Spike stammered out, blushing. “Why do I have to be the bitch? I’m not even a girl.”

“You really think I’m a sub?” Pinkie questioned, cocking an eyebrow. “C’mon.”

“I…” Spike stopped, stroking his chin. “You got a point there.”

“Exactly! But we should really move on,” she said, rolling her wrist.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’m out of my depth of knowledge on the subject. So, uh…” He grinned. “What are we doing tomorrow at the shop?”

“The usual. Better check all the stock and stuff. Make sure we’re up to date after being away for soooo long.” Her hand grasped another drink of punch and she downed it in no time, licking her lips.

“I’ll put in an order for necklace parts too. If I remember right, I was gonna do it before we left, but someone distracted me.” He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to waste four hours playing ‘Zombie Sword Mayham 2’ with you.”

“I bet you did, though,” Pinkie said.

“I just was gonna do one life. Not my fault we got so far thanks to me being so good.”

“I totally carried you!” she exclaimed, walking along the buffet table and getting herself an assortment of treats upon a plate.

“Uh-huh. A ‘man-at-arms’ carrying a ‘vanguard?’ Try again, Diane.” Spike followed after her, grabbing a plate and filling it with crackers and meats.

Pinkie stared down at Spike, her eyebrows wiggling. “You seriously implying a newbie could carry me at that game?”

“This newbie can carry you at everything,” Spike countered.

“Aah, a dragonkin’s ego,” Pinkie said, smugly eating a cupcake.

“And an earth-folk’s stubbornness.”

Jack lead Rarity across the dance floor, Rarity pressed against Jack’s chest as the farmer guided them through a surprisingly complex tango. She moved through the crowd, sweeping past and around the the people as if she had a sixth sense to where they were and her dress swayed and blew with every turn of her waist.

Rarity let herself be dipped and came back up, smiling at Jack as the farmer continued their ballroom poetry.

“Better than doin’ it in the livin’ room listen ta the radio, I bet,” Jack said, grinning.

“That has its own charm, to be fair,” Rarity remarked, moving her hand to the small of Jack’s back. Jack twirled her around to where Rarity’s back rested against Jack’s chest and continued their dance.

“Sorry I ain’t taken ya out ta dance in a while,” Jack said. “Between everythin’ goin’ on… ya know.”

“I understand,” Rarity replied. She gave a small squeeze to Jack’s hand. “I do not help the matter, considering how often I’m away for my studies or a fashion show.”

“Ain’t we jus’ a pair of idiots? Always off on our own.”

Rarity chuckled, reaching up behind her to give a small stroke to the side of Jack’s face. “I wonder which one of us is more foolish?”

“Well, yer the one that sure as heck didn’t marry up,” Jack remarked with a raise of her brow. “At least I could lie an’ say I married fer money.”

Rarity chuckled. Jack turned her around once more to face her as they both took in the guests.

“It’s funny to me,” Rarity said, looking over Jack’s shoulder towards the dancing crowd.

“Mmm?”

“I assumed that we were the odd couple out of the dancing group, I suppose.”

Jack gave another dip to Rarity and gave a small look around her. “What? We ain’t?”

“Well, Spike and Diane seem peculiar. Not to mention that our Twila finally acted on her feelings.”

“About damn time,” Jack said, catching sight of the very person leading Celestia through a simple box-step. “Was gettin’ tired of that ‘will she or won’t she’ crap.”

“Not to mention that I just saw Gilda dancing with Chylene.”

The earth-folk laughed. “Alright, now that one is weird.”

“Well, you watch out for Chylene,” Rarity remarked. “If Gilda does even one thing to upset her…”

Jack sighed, then nodded. “I’ll keep an eye out.” Throwing her arm out, she spun Rarity, then brought her back in close. “I don’t think there’s gonna be an issue though, sug.”

“Not if you’re around, no.” Rarity gave a quick peck to Jack’s chin. “Despite being a rude oaf, you’re a dependable oaf.”

“Comin’ from someone as priggish as you, I reckon I’ll take that as a complement.”

“Priggish?” Rarity paused, a look of bewilderment on her face. “Do you even know what that word means?”

“‘Course I do,” Jack replied, then added under her breath, “I bought another word-a-day calendar.”

“Oh. That’s what’s on your nightstand,” Rarity remarked. “I should’ve guessed.”

“Figure it’s about like the farmer’s almanac I saw ya readin’ the other day.”

Rarity froze, taken aback. “T-That was simply to read the weather forecast! It’s far better at predicting the weather than the anchorman.”

“Yeah. Been readin’ it too: figure by the time we get back, perfect time fer some corn. Plant it an’ it should be ready jus’ in time fer some hot soups come first frost.”

Rarity shook her head. “No, darling. Corn wouldn’t work; frost takes it too easily. You should really consider cab—” her eyes widened and she flinched, pulling a hand away from Jack for a moment to cover her mouth as Jack threw her head back and cackled.

“Cabbage? Eyup. Reckon yer right,” Jack finally said through her last snorts. Rarity rejoined Jack after a scathing glare.

“Not a word to anyone about this,” she warned.

“Sure, sure. I hear farmer’s wives tend ta have a hell of a temper,” Jack replied.

“It’s like you want to live in that dress, Jack.”

Jack brought Rarity closer and looked down at the woman, offering a coy smile. “Well, it’s at least easy ta take off…” She cupped the back of Rarity’s head. “‘Specally when the prettiest girl I know gives me a hand.”

“Just a hand?” Rarity held her own devious smile as she gave a small run of a fingernail over Jack’s blonde locks. “I thought you were at least fairly partial to my mouth.”

The earth-folk bit her lip, wincing a hair in embarrassment. “Alright. Ya win.”

“There’s no beating me on flirting, dear.” She let her hand travel south for a brief moment, giving a ghost touch to Jack’s backside. “Though my flirts tend to end up promises.”

Jack laughed, then gave a small, content sigh. “Ya reckon we’ll still be like this when we got ourselves a… ya know?”

“Something like this,” Rarity replied, their dancing once more turning dynamic, fluid. “We’ve both changed from before we met, have we not?”

“I know so,” Jack agreed with a nod.

“You’re willing to, er, ‘gussy up,’ as it were, and I am willing to dig through the dirt at times.” As she was thinking for a moment, Jack swung them across the dancefloor; Rarity let out a small laugh at the action as Jack easily twisted the soul-folk in the air before delicately putting her back on the ground.

“But we’re still the same in a lot of ways,” Jack said.

“As much as anyone can be over the years,” the other replied. “What I feel is that the others, save maybe Spike and Diane, do not understand is that a relationship is always evolving, so they shouldn’t worry over every spat that happens. Marriage is not a stationary thing. It’s a beginning, not an end.”

Jack looked to the side. “Ain’t sure what ya mean by it not bein’ stationary. I reckon it’s pretty solid, Rare. I love ya; ya love me. At least, I hope ya do.”

“Of course I do. And that’s not going to change,” Rarity sternly said, grasping a bit tighter to Jack. “But the dynamic can be altered. Why else are you wearing a dress right now?”

“Ta keep ya happy,” Jack answered as if it was obvious.

“Exactly. And when I make a faux paus, I tend to pay for it just as well.”

“A what now?”

“A mistake,” Rarity replied flatly.

“Oh. Yeah. Like the time I was sick an’ ya tried ta help milk, but ya ended up gettin’ a bull instead of a cow an’ Mac had ta—”

“Exactly that,” Rarity dryly interrupted, then added, “Thank you for reminding me.”

After a beat, her face warmed up to its usual radiance. “A child will be the same way. An altered dynamic. It will be different, of course, you’ll have new roles, as will I, but that won’t change our core. I will still love you—even more than I do now—I’ll still see you as the strongest woman I know, and…” Sparing a glance around them to spot onlookers and finding none, Rarity embraced Jack and gave a small, gentle run over the farmer’s cheek with the tip of her tongue. Jack shivered at the motion, feeling a warmth at her lower stomach.

“I’ll still find you irresistible,” Rarity sensually finished, giving a predatory lick of her lips.

The music ended and Jack swallowed, just now realizing how sweaty she had gotten.

Going by her even, steady breath, it sure as hell wasn’t from exertion.