This is a very experimental fic written purely for fun. However, proper research went into the writing of this story so as to cover the topics hinted here in the most informed and adequate way. Said research will continue as I update.

Additionally, though it was cleared with a mod for Teen, this fanfic will very much tango between the thin line separating Teen and Mature. Please be aware of this as you read, and though I will keep this as tasteful as I can, I'm not discarding the possibility that the rating might upgrade as I progress with the story.

Lastly, if you find any typos, please let me know, preferably via PM. Thank you!

Her carriage arrived at the city early in the morning. The coachman yawned heavily, his tired eyes glazed over by an even more tiring three-day journey. The horses, too, were on their last legs, their horseshoes clacking against the cobblestone streets.

Men in clean trousers, clean shirts and roughly-cleaned boots strode out into the streets, ready for another day’s work. Some stayed at home, however, and some waited outside their houses until children in hand-me-down clothes came out, reaching out for their fathers’ calloused hands and following them to school.

Women, some in dresses, some in pants, opened the curtains of their homes, waving to their husbands and children as they left for work. Some stayed at home, and some left for work—the very few who’d disregarded social expectations to do what they wished.

Beggars stalked the streets, some covered with torn rags as they slept, others barely awake and extending their hands towards passerbys. A child in a dirty dress slept next to an elderly woman, both huddled together against the cold stone, the child shivering in her grandmother’s embrace. An embrace cold by the life snuffed out of the elderly woman at precisely half past two in the morn.

All lived in the beautiful and unforgiving city of Canterlot.

The capital of elegance and depravity, of art and magic, of beauty and ugliness, of hate and love.

Not that Twilight Sparkle would ever care about the last one. Not yet, at least. Not yet.

In the distance, dawn came with the arrival of the sun, its light coaxing itself through the carriage curtains. A woman sat inside, her thin fingers brushing the page of an old book, dimly lit by a modern invention.

A lamp that burned entirely with magic.

The world and all its glory waited outside the carriage, and yet Twilight Sparkle could not be bothered to look past alchemy, and metaphysicalities, and words strung together to prove a clever hypothesis. The city held no interest to her unless it was something to be studied and tested. She was blind to so many things, my darling beloved, and it was both her flaw and her virtue. Unaware of the poverty, unaware of the misery, and also unaware of the love, and unaware of the bliss.

All she cared for were her studies and her magic, and she excelled at both. A snap of her fingers would conjure things I could only dream of doing with my meagre magical abilities. What she did effortlessly, I struggled with endlessly, and the reverse was true as well.

But on that day…

All she cared for was to impress Lady Celestia; she who lived in the mansion at the edge of the city, with towers that I could see from my room, along with the rising sun.

I always did love the dawn, but my favorite time of day, and you will have to bear with me now, was the twilight. The light dimmed of its innocence and turned towards something more severe. Purity and sin come together in balance, neither good and neither bad. Just what they were—a mix of both.

But she arrived in the morn with her carriage and her books and her silly notions, and so did I stare out my bedroom window, up in the highest floor of The Sapphire Carousel.

Someone stirred beside me, and I slightly turned my gaze towards the person in question. A man and his half-naked body covered only by thin sheets and an expensive linen comforter. I thought he would wake, but he did not. Instead, he snored rather unpleasantly and his lips then curved into a smile.

I stared at him for a moment.

There was no sign of my crimson lipstick on any part of his body.

Fabulous, I thought. A lady never leaves a mark.

Eventually, I laid back down and allowed myself a smile. One meant just for me and no one else. I stared at the sky in the distance and wondered if I had time to go to the bakery before the first performance.

I wondered, as a carriage in the distance moved through the city, if I might meet someone interesting that day.

Everybody knew of Lady Celestia.

A dazzlingly wealthy scholar with a reputation diametrically opposite to that of The Sapphire Carousel and its inhabitants. She was pristine, yet dull; we were tainted, yet sensational. Two reputations whose only similarity was that they were both partially incorrect.

Her white mansion at the end of Willow Street was certainly a sight to be seen. Locked away beyond silver gates that only chosen guests could cross, as well as the occasional visitors when the Lady opened the gates on Sunday mornings, allowing access to the grand gardens at the back.

If you got to know her, however, took the time to speak to her, you would more often than not find yourself in a strange position. You could meet her for the first time in your life, and yet she would treat you as though she knew you her entire life. It would seem as though she somehow knew everything about you.

It was fascinating, yes, but terrifying as well. After all, chances were she did in fact know a great deal about you.

I was eighteen the last time I visited her gardens. A child who’d turned into an adult a few months back. We met briefly that day, the Lady and I, and I remember her very clearly still. She wore a long yellow summer dress and a matching straw-hat that kept her auroral hair in place.

After engaging me in some silly pleasantries I can’t recall, she spoke.

“I heard you’re a...” I remember the pause. It burnt me for quite a while. “...an entertainer at The Sapphire Carousel now. Is that true?”

Shame, like her pause, burned me. I felt short of breath. There, in the gardens, I regarded Lady Celestia with a stricken expression before turning around and running away, ignoring her when she called my name.

The shame soon turned to anger. Anger at her for making me feel ashamed, and anger at myself for feeling ashamed. I resolved to never again feel that way towards my work, and I also resolved to never see the Lady again.

Until, as I said before, Twilight Sparkle arrived in town.

As she stepped out of the carriage and onto the gray driveway, my dear beloved laid her eyes on Lady Celestia’s mansion for the very first time.

In person, that is.

She’d seen it before in photographs, and once in a fantastic illusion conjured by the Lady herself upon visiting the Sparkle family house. A mesmerizing show of sorcery and projection, and soon enough, a young girl was staring in awe at a dollhouse-sized three-dimensional building. It was the day magic and knowledge became her life.

She was eight years, three months and two days old; one of three precise dates she knew in remembrance of an important event.

The next event she would commit to memory was when she was fourteen years, seven months, and sixteen days old. That was the day her brother graduated from the Academy and he invited her to be with him on stage.

The last was when she was twenty two years, four months, and one day old.

But let us not get ahead of ourselves.

On the day Twilight Sparkle gazed up at the mansion, she was twenty-one years, two months, and six days old. Over plain clothes, she wore a long black cloak—or, as I called it, the dark and broody cape—and her long dark hair was tied in a half-ponytail. She constantly insisted the pink streak in it was natural. I never believed her, but that is neither here nor there.

She was pale, a terrible side-effect of living in the north and being dreadfully antisocial, yet she was hale and hearty nonetheless. She was beautiful in a very awkward fashion. Cute and endearing in her earnest social misgivings. Funny how she knew so much, and yet she understood so very little.

If she knew my thoughts at the time, she would be quite cross.

She clutched her bag to her chest like a terrified child, staring up at the house that contained all her hopes and dreams. For three years, those white walls would be her home. For three years, the thousands of books in that library would be her friends, and for three years, the older woman living inside would be her teacher.

I asked once, as we sat by Old Man Frost’s shop, if she regretted going to Lady Celestia’s house.

She stared at me as though I’d gone mad. Of course not, she’d answered. What a ridiculous question for me to ask.

She hadn’t realized she was not the subject of my reflection.

The large, oaken doors opened with a heavy push, and so Twilight stepped inside, the coachman—Leather Flint—bringing her belongings behind with him. She had offered to carry them with her magic, but he’d refused. She thought it silly. It was just one thing, after all.

Her entire life packed in the ridiculous amount of one single green bag.

Enviable, truly. One wishes everyone could be so concise.

“Young miss,” said Flint, putting down her lonely, heavy bag with a relieved sigh, “the Lady is not home yet, but asked me to encourage you to explore the estate while she is away. I can show you to your room once I’ve tended to the horses.”

“Oh.”

Though Twilight’s smile was appropriately polite, it hid her real emotions. She was disappointed that Lady Celestia wasn’t home, and yet she was relieved at the same time.

“All right,” she replied at last, deciding she ought to use the time to rehearse her conversation with Lady Celestia for the fifty-seventh—yes, fifty-seventh—time. “Thank you for your help.”

Flint offered a grunt and a smile and then ambled off towards the neighing horses while Twilight took a breath and stepped forwards to explore her new home and its surely fantastic library.

Now, let us play a game. I want you to imagine what a fabulous mansion would look like. Picture it. The kind of place one dreams of owning as a child, with as many rooms as one needs and then double that. Hold that image crystal-clear in your head.

Do you have it? Well then, whatever you are imagining, know that the Lady’s home is far, far more grand.

Priceless artworks from priceless artists hung on the walls of several galleries—Whispers of the Wind by the impressionist Pizzazz, A Child Nursing from Rearbrandt, Portrait of a Cat by Van Hoof, and so many more. All originals, of course.

Exceptional statues and historic artifacts followed said paintings, scattered across the many rooms that made up this sensational abode. There was a room for private cinema viewings, with an ancient projector kept modern by effortless magic. A room for meditating, filled with silk cushions and cashmere blankets. A tea room for tea ceremonies with a cabinet full of seemingly endless supply of cookies, and a gramophone by the corner, waiting to play one of the hundreds of records lined up on the wall.

I could, quite frankly, take audience suggestions for a room and chances are the mansion would already have it. And yet, Twilight noticed as she stepped into another hallway lined with doors, the only thing the mansion seemed empty of was people.

It makes sense, she thought as she walked to the nearest door. She has magic.

Yes, indeed. Whyever would one need a cumbersome staff of maids, butlers, cooks, and so on when one had boundless magic at their immediate disposal? A snap of her fingers, and surely the house would be pristine in less than a second! True, that kind of magic was exceedingly complex and required much prowess, but it was Lady Celestia performing said magic.

Who needs others, Twilight thought with a smile, when you have magic and books?

Books that Twilight was having a very hard time finding.

She’d found practically a room for everything save for the one she cared for: the library.

She stepped into the room with great hopes that were quickly dashed at the discovery that again the library eluded her. With slight disappointment, she stepped into a small study where photographs of the Lady decorated the walls, every single one kept safe in an ornate blue frame.

She examined the photographs with unreserved awe. In one, the Lady waved brightly from atop a Saddle Arabian camel, the great Pyramids towering in the background; in another, stuffy-looking men and women gawked at her magically-powered vehicle while she giggled to the side; in the next, she and a rather similar woman posed with yet a third, elderly, smart-looking woman.

A smile crept up Twilight’s lips. The elderly woman squinted at the camera, looking very much uncomfortable while Lady Celestia politely glared at the woman next to her, who herself looked as though she would much rather be anywhere but there.

That must be her sister, Twilight thought. She hadn’t known much of the Lady’s sister, except for the fact that her name was Luna and that she apparently was the equal in power to the Lady herself.

Twilight doubted that was true, of course. Lady Celestia was unrivaled in her magical expertise! Unparalleled and undefeated! Such was her borderline-concerning adoration, I once told her that Lady Celestia could raise the sun with a gesture of her hand, and she actually believed me at first.

She thought I wasn’t funny. I disagreed.

Now, as I was saying, she continued her visual tour of the Lady’s life, of her many achievements and skills depicted in frozen moments of time, until she stopped at a most peculiar sight.

An error in the middle of the wall.

Well, no, not an error, per se, but certainly something wrong in this valley of images. Whereas all the other frames had been ordered in a very precise fashion, she noticed a few had been moved around, distinct from the rest, as though they were trying to hide the spot left behind by an absent frame. She could even see one of the holes left behind by a nail.

Maybe it fell and broke?

Eventually, she decided to move on and left the room, looking out into the hallway and scanning for her curiosity’s next target. Despite all the open doors, her attention was caught by the only closed room near the end of the hall.

A closed door, as you might have guessed, meant something to discover, and Twilight Sparkle loved to discover new things.

She strode towards the door with confident steps and soon enough found herself before an ordinary wooden door.

She knocked three times.

“Hello?” she called out, and waited a moment before knocking anew. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

When silence greeted her again, she moved her hand towards the doorknob but stopped upon noticing a silver bracelet hanging around it. She picked it up and examined it, finding an inscription along the length of the object.

“We were strangers when first we met,” she murmured, staring at the phrase for a moment. She then turned the bracelet over, expecting to find the rest of the sentence and yet finding nothing at all.

She frowned. “Right.”

Why would someone leave a bracelet just hanging on a doorknob? It stood out to her as much as the missing frame in the other room. Two little details that were out of place in this house where everything had a carefully designated space.

Hoping to find answers within the room, she tried the doorknob and found it locked—a fact which did little to dissuade her curiosity. Still gripping the doorknob, her fingertips glowed with magic. It would be very easy to use an unlocking spell on the door. Less than a second’s work, really.

And yet, the light in her fingers faded out and she let go of the knob. As much as she wanted to know what was behind the door, the last thing she wanted was to intrude on the privacy of her hostess.

She went back to examining the bracelet, running it through her fingers, and then nearly jumped right out of her skin when a gentle voice spoke behind her.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” said a voice that instilled both joy and apprehension in Twilight. “I engraved it myself!”

“La-Lady Celestia!” Twilight gasped, nearly backed up against the wall, heart thumping in her chest.

There she was in all her glory, her smile filled with no small amount of mischief. She towered over the younger woman, the poor dear staring at the Lady wide-eyed, like a deer facing the hunter.

How terribly, absolutely, positively horrific! Twilight Sparkle, mage extraordinaire, having been caught in the scandalous act of breaking and entering! Already her mind was swirling into a descending spiral of possibilities! Lady Celestia would surely never trust her again! But wait! What if she sent her home?! What would she tell her parents?! What would she tell herself when she’d have to look at her reflection in the mirror every morning, eyes haunted by the utter defeat and shame and humiliation?!

And they call me dramatic!

Or am I projecting onto Twilight? Hm.

“Lady Celestia,” Twilight declared after somehow reacquiring some sense of composure. She bowed politely. “I, uh—”

“Twilight! I’ve known you since you were a child!” exclaimed the Lady, waving her off. “Please don’t call me Lady Celestia! You’re reminding me I’m old!” At Twilight’s horrified expression, she laughed. “Celestia is enough.” Her eyes then lowered towards the bracelet Twilight was practically crushing in her grip. She smiled and said, “Would you like something less painful to nervously squeeze?”

Twilight blinked. “Huh?” she said eloquently before realizing what the Lady meant, her cheeks tinting red in response.

Thankfully, Celestia paid no mind, reaching out and taking the bracelet in her hand, giving Twilight a clear view of the identical bracelet around her wrist. “It’s very pretty,” she said again, quietly enough that it seemed as though she were talking to herself. “But…” She reached towards the doorknob and placed the piece of jewellery back on its place. “Some things are best left where their owner will find them.”

And after that, the topic was closed and she led Twilight away from the closed door and the bracelet with only one half of a message.

The Lady spoke of trivialities as they walked, and Twilight answered as best she could. It was hard to keep up with Lady Celestia’s quick-fire questions, ranging from the well-being of Twilight’s family, to her studies in school, to her thoughts on the house. The family was fine, she had graduated summa cum laude, and the house was impressive.

“I noticed there seems to be no staff?” asked the student when they stopped before a set of two oak-doors.

The Lady smiled. “No, there aren’t. Only Flint lives here with me.”

Twilight coughed. “Oh,” she said, and nothing more.

With a snap of the Lady’s fingers, the door swung open and Twilight followed her into a private office. Compared to the rest of the house, Lady Celestia’s office was actually rather… well, rather unimpressive. Simple wallpaper, a few simple paintings, an oak desk and two chairs before it.

“ I apologize I wasn’t here to greet you,” said the Lady as she moved behind the desk and sat on her chair. “If I knew you’d arrive so early, I wouldn’t have scheduled a meeting with the Mayor! I came over as soon as Philomena told me you were here.”

Twilight blinked. “Philome—?”

A loud squawk interrupted her, and the startled woman turned around to find a phoenix eyeing her from atop its perch.

“Philomena’s been very excited to see you, you know?” explained the Lady with a giggle. “She’s had no one to tease since our cat ran away.”

Philomena squawked at Twilight once more, tilting her head innocently.

“Right,” said Twilight.

“Unfortunately,” continued Lady Celestia, “this also means I need to ask you a favor, Twilight.”

“A favor?” Twilight asked, turning to her with a glowing expression, already anticipating being asked to assist with some sort of wondrous magical marvel, no doubt. “Of course! What can I do for you?”

The Lady did not reply at first. She seemed lost in thought, staring at a framed photograph on her desk—an ornate blue frame that Twilight quickly recognized, though its face was turned away from her.

“I’d like you to go into the city for me,” said the Lady, finally tearing her gaze away from the photo and jotting down something on a nearby piece of parchment, “and run a quick errand.”

“Of course!” Twilight said, masking her disappointment with enthusiasm, nevermind the fact that she knew nothing about the city, and even less so how to find her way through it.

The Lady smiled brightly, folding the piece of paper and handing it over, along with a small bitbag filled with coins. “I would ask Flint to do this, but I think he fell asleep while tending to horses, and I think this is a great opportunity for you to get to know the city.”

“If you’re lucky,” she continued, as somewhere far away I made my way towards Sugarcube Corner, “you might meet someone interesting.”

Oh my god, I've never realized how deep I am in pony writing until the moment I kept writing everypony out of sheer habit. RIP me.

Posted chapter two early because why not.

As always, please let me know of any typos, preferably in PM. Thank youuuuuu!

In the perfectly ideal world that Twilight Sparkle thought she lived in, she reached her destination without any delays or any inconveniences and was back in the mansion in less than an hour.

In the world Twilight actually lived in, she got absolutely lost.

She walked and walked and walked, her map effortlessly floating before her, and the more she walked, the more lost she felt. The map—a worn-out thing Flint had fetched from inside an old desk—was doing little to help, as well. Words were blurred, streets were crossed out, and many other inconveniences littered the aged guiding tool.

Such was her trouble trying to decipher the map, she missed out on the many sights the grand city offered. The vagrant snoring away on the street, three giggling children poking him with a stick; the lonely musician leaning against a wall, the melody from her guitar failing to persuade Twilight to throw a few coins into her basket; the men and women filing in and out of buildings, doing last-minute weekend affairs; and, finally, the soon-to-be-punished little girl who was far more interested in Twilight than in doing any of the errands she’d sworn to do.

Upon reaching the corner of Frost Lane and North Street, Twilight finally resigned herself to her situation. The young mage sat down on a nearby bench, feeling no small amount of irritation towards poor, darling Flint.

“I should have bought my own map,” she muttered, grasping the offending artefact and glaring at it, as though hard stares might suddenly bring the faded words back to life.

“Can you make it float again?”

Twilight turned around and found a little girl with pink-and-purple hair leaning on the bench’s backrest, her curious eyes set on the map and a lollipop sticking out her mouth.

“I—what?”

“You were floating the map earlier! Can you make it float again? I’ll help you get to where you need to go if you show me,” she offered, walking around the bench and sitting down next to my baffled beloved. At Twilight’s hesitance, she spoke again, offering a small deviously innocent smile. “Please?”

Her smile worked its charms, and it was hardly surprising that it did. She had learnt from the best, after all, which was certainly an annoyance when she’d started using it to get her way into having a bigger allowance.

With a small smile, Twilight let go of the map, her fingertips filling with magic just in time to catch it before it fell to the ground. A quick gesture, and it floated up into the air, displaying itself for the giggling girl to clap at.

“I can do magic too! Look, look!”

With careful delicacy, she lifted her fingers and sparks of magic shot out. As they did, she opened her mouth rather awkwardly, and the lollipop slowly floated out in painfully shaky movements. The child grinned brightly, looking to Twilight with the expectation of glowing praise.

“That’s, uh, very good!” Twilight replied, and though she tried her best, she was hardly a good liar.

I suppose this would be the moment where I introduce this little girl, wouldn’t it? Where I unveil the name and story of this child whom I would die for if her capricious demands didn’t kill me first. However, it would be better to let her do it. She took great pride in declaring herself to the world, you see—a trait she, for better or worse, also learned from me.

“My name is Sweetie Belle,” said my precious sister, putting the lollipop back in her mouth and extending her hand to Twilight.

Twilight reached out to take it and faltered for a moment. My sister’s hand, she noticed, was bruised. Red around the knuckles, small scratches, and though she held it out proudly, it was clear she wasn’t quite able to open it up all the way.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” Twilight asked, concern bubbling in her.

Sweetie blushed, taking back her hand. “N-Nothing! I fell,” she said before extending it out once more with determination. “My name is Sweetie Belle!”

Twilight said nothing. She simply took her hand and shook it gently.

“Are you a witch?” Sweetie asked when she took back her hand. “What’s your name?”

“A mage. And yes, I am,” said Twilight, and held off from explaining that she was actually a mage’s apprentice. “And Twilight. My name, I mean. Twilight Sparkle.”

Sweetie nodded severely, licking on her lollipop much like Sherclop Horse might smoke his pipe. “That’s what I thought it would be.”

She was an odd child, but that is beside the point.

She had also been spending a bit too much time with the local eccentric baker. That too was beside the point.

“Can you do other magic spells?” Sweetie asked after a lick of her candy. She beamed with smug pride when she added, “I bet you can’t do magic like my big sister can.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow, suddenly intrigued by this casual mention of another skilled mage. She would insist, later on, that her attention was struck only because she cared about magic itself and not because she wanted anything silly like friendships or meeting deliriously beautiful girls.

“Oh?” she asked, leaning in. “What kind of magic does she have? Material or flight magic?”

Sweetie Belle giggled, offering Twilight a sly look. “Everyone knows flight magic isn’t real magic,” she said and then grew rather panicked. “Don’t tell Scootaloo I said that, though!” Once she’d been assured by Twilight that this Scootaloo-person would be kept in the dark, she continued. “Sis does normal magic!”

“You mean material magic.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said! Normal magic.”

“...Right.”

“And she can do it better than anyone!” Sweetie continued, the little devil taunting Twilight with her smile. “She can float me up almost six feet!” She licked her lollipop, or what remained of it at least. “Can you do that?”

“I can do more than that,” Twilight replied, the answer pleasing Sweetie and surprising Twilight herself.

Twilight Sparkle, let it be known, was not someone who particularly liked to show off. Magic was not a show to be displayed, but an art to be respected. She shared the awe of the same people who were impressed by her effortless feats of magic.

And yet.

And yet, you see, where Twilight Sparkle came from, magic was hardly rare, and even less so skilled magic users. Her entire family from the northern cities were known for their prowess in the arts of psychokinesis. If she’d never learned to show off, it was simply because she’d never truly had the opportunity to.

Until now, that is.

She jumped onto her feet and turned to Sweetie. “You said your sister can levitate you?”

“Uh-huh!” she replied, practically lifting her arms in preparation for Twilight to do the same, right up until she remembered the pretty dress she was wearing. “Wa-Wait!” she gasped, lifting her hand towards Twilight. “I have my dress on!”

Twilight smiled. “Oh, that’s no problem. You’re not the one I’m levitating.”

My little sister faltered for a moment until her falter became a panicked screech when Twilight snapped her fingers and fwoosh! The entire bench soared up eight feet into the air, Sweetie holding onto it for her dear little life.

There was a moment of silence as Twilight looked up towards the bench, her amused smile starting to turn concerned. Then Sweetie’s head peered down from the bench, her eyes widening.

“You’re a jillion times better at magic than my sister!”

I’d be offended were it not true.

After allowing Sweetie a few minutes of oohs and ahhs and “higher!”s and “lower!”s, she eventually remembered she had an errand to complete and put the bench back in its place. She cleared her throat, grabbing her map and smiling at Sweetie.

“Now, can you tell me how to ge—”

“Can you be my teacher?!” Sweetie rudely interrupted, practically launching herself at the poor mage.

“Y-your teacher?”

“Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleeeeaaaaaaaase, Professor Twilight!”

“Professor Twilight?” She stepped back, her bewilderment at the situation clouding her desire to point out that she’d need a masters degree in psychokinesis to be called a professor. “But I can’t! I’m not a—! I mean—!”

Sweetie nodded, inflicting upon Twilight my deadliest weapon.

The pout.

Her eyes grew large like a dolls, her lips quivered, and the hint of a tear dripped down her right eye. It was almost masterful in how completely shameless it was. Were I there, I’d have been both immensely proud and incredibly mortified.

“I can show you more magic spells, if you want?” Twilight hesitantly offered, and sighed with relief when Sweetie jumped back, clapping her hands.

“Can we have our first class at Sugarcube Corner on Friday?” Sweetie asked. “The owners will give us free cupcakes!”

“I don’t see why not?”

Satisfied, Sweetie grabbed her bag, moving forwards to hug the mage. “Wait until I tell my sister!” she exclaimed, overjoyed, then rushed off into the street, waving to Twilight as she did so. “Goodbye, Professor Twilight!”

My darling beloved watched her go, the poor dear still unsure of how she’d gotten herself roped into whatever it was she’d gotten herself roped into. Such was her distraction, in fact, that she remembered a very crucial detail just as Sweetie disappeared behind a corner.

“Wait! You didn’t give me directions!”

I watched the drop of blood come to life on my fingertip.

I watched as it traveled down the length of my finger, onto my palm and finally died out halfway, leaving behind a red trail. It felt oddly poetic. It reminded me of my favorite childhood book in which a lonely woman pricked her finger and let a drop of her blood fall inside a love potion of her own design.

It was a quiet moment, I felt.

It hardly lasted.

“Rarity!” protested Sweetie Belle, sitting on the other side of my bed, her legs awkwardly tucked under a white nightgown six times her size. It would fit myself fantastically, but her… not so much. “Were you even listening?”

I briefly glanced her way before taking a nearby tissue and wiping the blood off my hand. That done, I returned my gaze to my sister and asked, “Listened to what?”

Her groan of utter exasperation amused me endlessly, and I placed my index finger inside my mouth, stopping the flow of blood with a quick suck of my tongue.

“Rarity!” Sweetie continued. “That’s gross!”

“Is it?” I asked. “You know, it’s said that when humans first came to be, we lived under the earth and had veins made of solid iron and copper until we came out into the surface and the sun melted them into blood.”

Sweetie’s delightful face scrunched into a frown, mouth opening and closing. “That… You just made that up!” she declared, crossing her arms.

I sighed theatrically, as one does. “Maybe I did, maybe I did not! It certainly won’t stop you from asking your teacher tomorrow regardless, now will it?”

“Why’d you ask me to stay here tonight if you’re just gonna tease me?” she asked in a huff. “We were going to eat chocolate cake at school for dinner!”

I laughed, finally allowing my sister respite from myself. I grabbed the needle that had pricked me and returned to sewing a dress together. “All right, all right,” I relented. “You were telling me about how you approached a complete stranger, struck up conversation, and then cheered with shameless abandon as she flung you into the air without a care for your safety?”

Sweetie blushed. “That’s not what I said! And she wasn’t a stranger.” She lifted her nose in the air, and with no small amounts of condescension, told me the sublime name of this strange mage. “Her name is Twilight Sparkle.”

“Twilight Sparkle,” I repeated, tasting the name on my lips. “Quite the charming name, I’ll admit.”

My sister nodded furiously. “And she’s going to give me magic lessons so I can be like you!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Magic lessons?”

“Uh-huh! We’re starting next Friday at Sugarcube Corner.”

I put down my needle and fluttered my eyelashes at her. “And pray tell, dearest, how exactly were you planning on paying for this private tutor, hm?”

“I’m paying for it,” Sweetie said. “With my allowance.”

I leaned in, smiling dazzlingly. “With your grand allowance of ten coins?”

“Fifteen coins!” Sweetie interjected. “You gave me a raise last week!”

I leaned back, a flicker of magic bringing forth my glasses and putting them on. “Oh, I’d forgotten about that. Well, dear sister,” I said, the smile vanishing from my face, “I imagine you’ll have a frightful time convincing me not to punish you for attending this worryingly cheap class.”

“P-punish me?!” she gasped, moving back. “Why are you punishing me?”

“Miss Cheerilee called me today,” I said curtly, taking no pleasure in seeing Sweetie’s face turn a shade paler as she quickly buried her bruised hand into her nightgown. “She told me you were involved in a disagreement, to put it nicely.”

“I—I—” She gulped down and tears quickly wet her eyes. “It wasn’t my fault!”

“Oh?” I put my sewing materials away and took off my glasses. “So Miss Cheerilee was lying when she said you started it? Are you calling her a liar? You do understand that is quite the accusation, don’t you? Was she lying?”

Sweetie Belle said nothing. She simply shook her head.

“Then why did you hit that Golden Ribbon girl?” I asked with severity.

“She called you the bad word,” she replied quietly.

A heavy silence followed, heavy as the weight in my heart, broken only when she spoke again. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again...”

“I should hope so, Sweetie,” I said, putting my glasses back on. “After all, rather than hitting her, I think you’ll feel much more satisfaction in the future at her jealousy when she sees all the fabulous magic spells you’ll learn with this Twilight Sparkle woman.”

It is rather simple to deduce what’s missing based on what’s been left behind.

A second toothbrush in the bathroom of an old woman’s apartment.

A baby’s bib and other such things hidden away in the closet of a quiet couple with sad eyes.

A jewelry box under the bed of the local lady’s man, and a dusty engagement ring beneath it.

A bracelet hanging on the doorknob of a locked door.

In the few days Twilight had been living in Lady Celestia’s mansion, she had… not seen things, no, but noticed them.

It started the first night, when she awoke with a start after having dreamt of things she did not care to confess. Things like failures, fear, disappointing others, and the fact that she was no longer home but living in a mansion full of objects but empty of life.

The floor did not creak when she made her way through the maze of rooms and hallways. The furniture, too, was quiet, and all she could hear was the sound of her own voice when she summoned a wisp of light to guide her way.

If she believed in the supernatural, she might have been frightened. Scared by the shadows creeping by of memories and stories forgotten and untold. Oppressed by the weight of it all.

But Twilight Sparkle did not believe in ghosts.

The only thing she wondered, as she stepped into the kitchen, was if a mansion so large was really properly suited for a single person.

I mentioned before that everything in the Lady’s house was ordered in a very precise fashion, Not a single thing was out of place, not a color, not a shape, not a frame, not a lie.

But the truth? Now that, my darling, cares little about fitting in, just like the little blue plastic cup Twilight found next to the perfectly identical glasses in the cupboard.

It was quite small, enough to hold perhaps only six ounces, and unlike everything else, it was old and damaged, filled with scratches and childish scribbles done in permanent ink. On the bottom of it, she noticed, someone had written the initials LR.

She turned it around in her hand, trying to understand why it was there.

LR?

Initials, clearly, but whose? The only person whose name started with L that Twilight could associate with the Lady was Lady Luna, but…

But this was a child’s, wasn’t it?

The second thing she noticed, the very next day, was when the Lady asked to meet with her in the private reading room.

The private reading room, located in the eastern side of the mansion’s second floor, was a much more intimate version of the mansion’s proper library. It had a few bookshelves, a few identical couches, and a table filled with those seemingly endless cookies.

Much like before, almost everything fit in save for the little blue armchair Twilight noticed near the back of the room. She walked towards it and so a small bookcase revealed itself next to the chair, filled to the brim with children’s books.

She kneeled down next to the chair to look over the books, and in doing so, rested her hand on the chair’s white throw-pillow for support. An unfortunate decision, as no sooner had she applied some pressure, something quite pointy greeted her finger.

“Ow!”

She fell onto the floor with a wince and lifted her palm to find a drop of blood making its way down on it. She wiped the blood away and turned towards the chair, her quick scan landing on a needle in the middle of the chair, its tip crimson red.

She took the needle in her hand, examining it for a moment before returning her gaze to the couch and noticing a hand-sewn inscription on the pillow.

She turned the pillow around, expecting to find context for such a statement, but found the other side to be blank, and there were no other pillows around to perhaps complete it.

“Twilight?”

With an undignified yelp, Twilight turned around to find Lady Celestia standing under the frame of the door, her curious eyes set on the poor squatting student.

“Lady Celestia!” exclaimed my beloved, scrambling up onto her feet and bowing her head. “Sorry, I—” She gestured to the chair and the books. “I was just curious and I—I didn’t know you had children.”

The Lady smiled. “I don’t,” she said, and nothing else on the matter. She instead strode across the room, sat on a chair and gestured for Twilight to take another. “Shall we start the class?”

“Y-Yes,” Twilight replied, taking a seat and saying nothing more.

Nothing more of this child who was present only in the signs they’d left behind; in the ghosts and shadows of their life in this empty mansion.

In the blue cup waiting to be used.

In the little shoes at the back of the lobby closet waiting to be put on.

In the half-used crayons inside a drawer waiting to draw again.

In the children’s music vinyl record waiting to be played inside a dusty gramophone.

In the child-sized bracelet hanging from a locked door.

In the inscription it had.

There is a bench in King’s Pike station whose beautiful green paint has been replaced with crimson rust. On this bench is a plaque commemorating a young boy found frozen to death on it about a century ago.

It is the bench I listlessly sat on for hours on end the day I last saw Lady Celestia, and fittingly enough, it was the bench I sat on when Twilight Sparkle and I met for the very first time, two days before her lesson with my sister.

We waited for the inner-city train, she and I, both comfortably quiet as she enjoyed her book and I enjoyed her in a much more innocent fashion than the one people often enjoyed me in.

The thing about my beloved, you see, is that she drew your attention because she never quite fit in. She was strange in her own way, as perplexing as the magic she cast on a daily basis, sitting there with a children’s book and paper on which she wrote down complex equations.

I asked her, weeks later, after we’d formally met, why on Earth was she doing math while reading a children’s book about dragons and fairies.

She confessed with both pride and embarrassment that she’d been calculating the size and weight of a dragon based on things it had done throughout the book. When I asked her why she’d done that, she simply said why not.

I thought about her for the rest of my life after that.

As I was saying, I admired this strange young woman up until the moment she felt my gaze, turned her head, our eyes met and…

I didn’t look away. I didn’t smile, or offer apologies for staring, or anything at all. How could I? You see, I’ve been looked at before. Day in and day out, men and women and all inbetween admire me, devour me, look down at me with their eyes.

But no one had ever… seen me like Twilight Sparkle.

Even as I try to describe it now, it’s difficult to capture what it feels like when she is looking at you, for Twilight Sparkle doesn’t so much look at you so much as she examines you, tries to understand who and what you are with as much passion as she does everything else.

In the three or four seconds she looked at me, I was the dragon whose weight and size this beautiful and strange woman had to figure out.

Only one other person in my entire life had ever seen me that way, and if I didn’t do or say something to her, I feared I might run away.

“A boy died here, you know?”

It was not my proudest moment, I’ll admit, but it did the job.

She was pulled out of her trance and the stare she gave me was certainly not as passionate as the previous ones.

“I— What?”

“A beggar boy died on this bench about a century ago,” I restated, determined to sleep in the bed I’d made. I gestured to the faded plaque. “See?”

Finding no other choice but to comply with this bizarre but beautiful stranger, Twilight looked to the plaque and read it over. “In loving memory of little orphan Silver Blue, carried off to a better life by winter’s night.” Her expression softened. “Oh. How sad…”

“Very much so,” I said, lifting my hand and brushing it on the name. “They couldn’t find any of his relatives, apparently, so everyone expected his funeral to be a lonely one. However, at the last minute, the children living in Bloomberry’s Orphanage at the time all came down to be with him.”

A gentle smile graced her lips, and I found myself pleased by the fact.

“And so here he is,” I finished with aplomb. “Remembered by a plaque on a bench.”

“Remembered,” she said, and as her memories went back to the missing child in the Lady’s mansion, her tone softened, and with strange sadness she added, “but not missed.”

I…

I didn’t know what to say after that, or even after she offered a polite smile and went back to her book. I simply sat there, my heart faint in my chest, and I stared at her as though she were the ghost of little orphan Silver Blue.

I was torn, crushed between unsettled and fascinated. I wanted to get up and leave with a polite goodbye, but I also wanted to know more about this stranger that I was convinced held more secrets than I dared to imagine.

Even now, I don’t know what possessed me to speak up.

“Will you miss me?”

There was a moment of silence, and she turned to me again with her unflinching scrutiny, and it felt as though life itself depended on her answer.

“Excuse me?”

“Will you miss me?” I asked again, calm and composed and desperate all at once for this stranger to see me. “Will you miss me when I’ve gone?”

She was baffled by the question.

“No?” she replied, not out of rudeness or the like, but out of the simple blunt sincerity present in Twilight’s every action.

I swallowed. I think I gave her a polite smile. I licked my lips and though they were not dry, I told myself that they were just so I had an excuse to look away.

With shaky hands and shaky mind, I pulled out my lipstick, its golden case worn down by age, and painted my lips crimson red, Twilight Sparkle staring at me the entire time. Once I was done, and once the lipstick was put away, I kissed the back of my hand and showed her the lipstickless skin.

“A lady,” I said, “never leaves a mark.”

“Who are you?” she asked suddenly, a question blurted out without her consent. She closed her book, startled by her own step forward, but held her gaze on mine.

I noticed the train approaching in the distance.

“That’s not what matters, though, is it?” I asked as the train stopped before us, the door opening and people flooding out.

“What does?” she asked, ignoring the train’s arrival in favor of staring at me with the same fascination I’d held towards her mere minutes ago.

“You said you wouldn’t miss me when I’ve gone,” I told her as I stood up. “Well…”

I smiled.

“You will now.”

And without another word, I strode forwards, into the train and behind the doors that closed just as I stepped through. The train whistled in approval and went on its way, leaving Twilight behind with a bench, a plaque, and the almost frightening realization that yes, indeed, she missed me now.

She would miss me later that night, later that week, later that year, and unlike poor little Silver Blue, she would continue to miss me long after I’d gone to where she could not follow.

Rarity: oh god this girl is beautiful quick say something smart
Rarity: someone died here you know
Twilight:...what?
Rarity: WE'VE MADE OUR DAMNED BED AND NOW WE SHALL LIE IN IT
Rarity: fascinating isn't it yes it is

I wondered about her later that night, lying on the bed of one of the Carousel’s more expensive rooms, a thin silk bedsheet covering half my naked body as the tips of my fingers toyed with a pink crystal hanging from my neck. I wondered about my mysterious stranger and her gaze that had frightened and enraptured me, her strange equations and the haunting words she’d offered me.

I wondered if perhaps she wondered about me too.

“What are you thinking about, my dear?”

I turned my gaze and found a man in his late thirties lying beside me, the thin sheet similarly covering his naked body from view. I don’t judge my clientele, but Lord Fancy wasn’t the most physically attractive of men, it’s true. Thin and gangly, and with blue hair that seemed ready to fall off at a moment’s notice, his appeal lay not in his looks but his intellect and eccentricities.

And his kindness.

“I met a girl today,” I said almost without consent, embarrassed like a child confessing a crush. Which I was, I suppose.

“A girl?” said a dulcet voice. “Vraiment?”

I turned to my other side, and my eyes fell on a beautiful woman in her early thirties who was less inclined to cover up as Fancy and I were. Unlike her husband, Fleur de Lis shone with the sex-appeal and sophistication that often comes with being a foreigner in this dreary city. Many thought her vain and shallow, a rich socialite from abroad who cared for nothing but to look pretty. Very few knew that she and her husband were behind some of the most outrageously large anonymous charity donations in Canterlot.

I never tended to befriend my clients. We were polite to each other, and I was always sincere with my emotions and kindness, but ultimately we were engaging in a transaction, a service. It sounds callous, does it not? I don’t mean for it to sound so, but one usually does not go out for gossiping outings with their local cashier or their therapist.

And yet, Fancy and Fleur were… different, in that respect. Or they were with me, at the very least.

They were my very first clients when I left cabaret dancing to try the more intimate aspect of the businesses six years ago when I was only twenty. This eccentric rich couple who’d just moved to Canterlot, looking for new places and people to give them new experiences, and what a surprise for them when said experience burst into shamed tears in bed even before services had even been provided.

What was supposed to be a night of debauchery for them became a night of consoling and comforting and building me up.

When they left the next day with promises of returning for me, I was again reduced to tears when faced with a tip triple in size to that of a month’s wage.

They became frequent clients after that, and I am reasonably certain that they would do most anything for me just as I would do most anything for and to them.

“Why, Fleur!” exclaimed Fancy. “We must have been lacking today if our diamond is thinking of her and not us after tonight.”

Fleur lifted her hand and brushed her fingers against my cheek. “Will you tell us the details of your nights with her, at least?”

A heated blush rose up my cheeks, and I swatted her hand away. “Pardon me! I only said I met a girl, not that I wanted to bed her!” I protested, faced with two of the very few people who found it easy to fluster me.

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense, my dear,” he said, reaching to the nightstand and taking his monocle. “Where did you meet her?”

“At that bench in King Pike’s station while waiting for the train.”

“I say, the one where that child died?” he asked, raising his eyebrow. “Interesting spot to be on the hunt for lovers, my dear.”

“Quite romantic,” she added with a giggle.

“You know, I don’t know why I’m even telling this to the pair of you,” I said with a huff. “I’m not being paid to expose my love life!”

“You’re right, my dear,” he said. “You’re being paid to thrill us.”

“And ça, mon ange, is quite thrilling,” Fleur added, and then fluttered her long eyelashes at me. “Allez, s'il vous plaît.”

“As I was saying,” I relented, ignoring the blush on my cheeks, “she was sitting on the bench, reading a fairytale book, I think, and using it to write down equations in a notebook.”

Now that caught their attention.

“Interesting,” he said. “What was she doing?”

“I don’t know. That’s exactly what I was trying to figure out when she…”

I fell silent.

Fleur pressed me. “She…?”

“She looked at me,” I said rather lamely, and I was upset to hear how… uninspired that sounded compared to how intense it had felt.

It certainly didn’t help that neither Fleur nor Fancy seemed to be impressed, as well.

“She looked at you,” Fleur repeated, and the couple was surprised when I sat up, as compelled to properly express the effect the woman had on me as I was irritated by my failure in doing so.

“It was more than that!” I said helplessly, holding onto my necklace as though it would somehow inspire poetry into my words. “She… She looked at me. Really looked at me like… like…” I gave up eventually. “I don’t know how to describe it, but… I can’t stop thinking about it.”

It would haunt me later on. The fact that I couldn’t describe what had transpired at that moment between us, why I had felt so utterly naked before her gaze, and it would take me quite some time before I ever found out.

You see, on that fateful day Twilight Sparkle and I met, she knew exactly why she’d stared at me in such a way. In the precise moment she saw me, she was overcome with the impression that she knew me and yet she couldn’t recall why no matter how hard she tried.

It makes sense that she couldn’t figure it out, doesn’t it? At least, it does now that I think about it in retrospect. Because, you see, Twilight Sparkle had never seen me before, and that is precisely why she knew about me.

Nevertheless, let us not get ahead of ourselves just yet.

Defeated, I lay back down on the bed, once again playing with the necklace on my chest.

“She stared at me,” I continued, “and she was so beautiful that I simply had to say something to her and I…” Shame burned me and I looked away when I continued. “I asked her if she knew that a boy had died on that bench.”

Fancy’s laughter filled the room. “My dear girl!” he exclaimed, delighted by my utter lack of romance. He turned around and grabbed a cigarette from the nightstand, lighting it up with a summoned magical flame and taking a long drag before turning back to me with a wide grin. “That is certainly one way of making a memorable introduction.”

“Non, non, non, mon ange,” Fleur murmured when I tried to cover my face in shame, wrapping her arms around me and peppering my face with kisses. “Do not let this silly man embarrass you. Allez, what happened next?”

“Well… Nothing, really,” I continued, safe in the arms of Fleur. My mind moved on to Twilight’s somber statement of being forgotten, and I found myself incapable of relaying it to them. The rest of our exchange felt too raw to me, too personal to tell others.

It was a memory I wanted for myself and myself alone.

“The train arrived,” I continued, “and then I left, and I suppose that’s it.”

Having it said out loud, I can admit it was disheartening. An opportunity I only then realized I had missed in favor of making an impression on this odd girl.

“That’s it?” Fleur asked when I moved away. “Did you not ask her name? Where she lived?”

“No,” I replied. “In truth, I don’t think she even lives here. She was… She was so different, I’m sure she was a tourist or something of the sort. She was probably visiting, so I doubt I’ll ever see her again.”

At this, Fancy’s expression changed.

Thoughtful. Quiet. Mischievous.

“And you say you met this girl at King’s Pike station?” he asked, and the practiced nonchalance in his voice would have warned me something was afoot even if Fleur hadn’t gasped first.

“Non!” she said. “Mon amour, tu ne penses pas que—”

He smiled. “That is exactly what I’m thinking, my flower.”

“What?” I asked, sitting up. My eyes narrowed, as they often did in the company of those two. “What are you two hiding from me?”

“We have gossip,” Fancy said with careful measure, “of the celestial kind.”

As soon as the words left his lips, I covered myself involuntarily and then forcefully put the covers down the second I realized I’d done as such. Even then, it burned me, and it burned me even more when I felt Fleur pull me towards her in a comforting gesture.

I loathed that that woman in her forsaken mansion still held power over me, and yet how could she not?

“Something we found out during one of Upper Crust’s soirées,” he continued, and held my gaze when he asked, “Would you like to know what?”

No, I wanted to say. No, I am not interested in what she has to say, or think, or do, or be prejudiced about.

And yet, I wanted to know.

How could I not when all of Canterlot City lived and breathed by what Lady Celestia did or said?

“What?” I asked, failing to sound unresentful. “Has she fallen off her high horse and broken a leg?”

“Oh no, much worse,” he said, lying down on his back. “The dear Lady has taken on an apprentice.”

My heart sped up, and I was barely aware of Fleur cuddling up to me, her fingers gently tracing circles on my naked stomach. “An apprentice?” I asked, and the side of me who’d once idolized the Lady could hardly ignore the jealous pang.

“The daughter of some nobles from the North,” he continued. “And rumor is her magical abilities surpass even those of Lady Celestia herself. Fairly good-looking too, they said.”

“Oh?” I said with contempt. “And I suppose this apprentice is a prejudiced square as well, then?”

Fleur sighed, kissing my neck. “Mon ange,” she murmured. “These grudges… They do not suit you.”

Before I could protest, Fancy Pants went on. “An interesting name, too. Twilight Sparkle.”

I snorted initially. “Twilight Sparkle?” I said, disgusted by these two words and so painfully unaware of the fact that they’d soon enough become my favorite to say. “What a pretentious name. Twilight Sparkle.”

And yet, no sooner had I said her name again, I was overcome with a much more concerning emotion.

Familiarity.

At that moment, I was certain that I had heard this name before, and recently too.

But where, where, where? I couldn’t recall for the life of me where I’d heard of this so-called talented mage, and though I felt it hanging by the tip of my tongue, Fancy drew my attention before I could dwell on it further.

“A beautiful foreigner living in the Lady’s mansion,” said the Lord and his smile turned devious. “May I ask, my dear, what’s the nearest station to the mansion?”

“The nearest station? King’s Pi—” I caught myself in the middle of my sentence and a gasp of horror soon followed. “No. No. Absolutely not. No.”

“Mmm, it would be romantic, non?” Fleur murmured, taking me in her arms. “Notre petite diamant amoureuse de l'étudiante de Celestia.”

“I am not in love with her!” I protested. “And she is not this Twilight Sparkle pers—”

And only then did I remember where exactly had I heard her name before.

“Stars alive!” I gasped, clamping my hands against my mouth. “Sweetie Belle’s private tutor! That’s why I’d heard her name before! It’s her!”

I’ll never forget Fancy Pants laughter after that, echoing throughout the room.

“My dear, dear girl,” he said after a long and final drag on his cigarette. “It seems that fate has grown tired of being ignored.”

I'd never written Fleur before, and let me tell you that her moments of french were giving me intense La Princesse flashbacks.

Also haha cameo of the EL RariTwi necklace because I will never not stop putting interfic references in all I write.

There was a mahogany dining table in the Lady’s mansion, carved from ancient trees and kept intact with even older magic. It was long, quite long, the kind to seat a gathering of twelve or more. The dining room that housed it was as grand as its table, every wall decorated with oil portraits of people—some prominent, some unknown, and all beautiful in some way. In their artistic design, in their color palette, or in their subject.

There were three that stood out.

The first was a portrait of Lady Celestia. Somber and quiet, hands folded on her lap as she sat on a bench in her garden, this painting was almost as unnerving as the indecipherable smile on her lips. She stared at you, the Lady from the portrait, with a piercing gaze that seemed to follow you wherever you went and know just about anything you were thinking. It was rather accurate in that respect, wasn’t it?

The second, on the opposite wall, was of Lady Luna. Like her sister, the Lady sat on a bench in the gardens, though it was not sun that shone upon her, but the moon instead. White light bathed her, the shadows it created dancing all around, and yet none cast a shadow larger than the lack of a smile on her lips. I myself could count with the fingers of my hand the times I’d ever seen my dear Lady Luna smile in the years I’d been under her employ.

Finally, the third painting, which hung all by its lonesome on a white wall, was a portrait of a young girl in a white dress. Devoid of color, this mysterious child of no more than ten years of age sat on a swing, her hair tied up with a ribbon. She seemed to be looking down upon the dining table with innocent curiosity, and should you stare too long into her eyes, you might feel as though the people eating were nothing more than her little playtime dolls.

These three paintings and the dozen more scattered along the walls were Twilight Sparkle’s sole companions as she and Lady Celestia quietly ate lunch, both seated at opposite sides of the table.

Hurry up! the child seemed to say as Twilight stared up at her. Tell her, silly!

“You know, Twilight, I can arrange a meeting with the artist, if you’d like,” said the Lady quite suddenly. Her smile matched the child’s amused one. “You’ve been staring at it for a while now.”

My darling nearly choked on the water she’d been drinking.

The Lady laughed at Twilight’s poor attempts to compose herself, yet her laugh was not malicious in any way. You see, that’s what makes the Lady all the more dangerous.

She always means well, always tries to do what is fair and just, and yet we all know what the road to hell is paved with, do we not?

But I digress on this matter, and let us return to Twilight Sparkle and the portrait she’d been staring at for far too long.

“What’s on your mind, my dear student?” asked the Lady, and with a flick of her wrist, a second serving of meatloaf delicately alighted on her plate.

Twilight faltered. Questioning her teacher’s methods was not her usual approach.

“Well…”

“You’re wondering why you’ve been here for almost a week already,” the Lady said, cutting her meal, “and we’ve yet to have a single class on magic.”

A faint blush crawled up my beloved’s cheeks, but she did not deny her teacher’s guess. It was true, after all. She’d come to Canterlot expecting daily classes on mesmerizing subjects, and instead she seemed to be nothing more than a simple errand girl spending more time in the city than she did the mansion.

“Yes,” she said lamely. “Not that I don’t enjoy the errands, of course, but…”

“Twilight,” asked the Lady, “why do you think I send you out on so many errands?”

Feeling herself being tested, my darling stood up straight. “To prepare for our magic lessons?” she ventured.

The Lady gazed at her for a second, her expression indecipherable.

“What do you know of Redwood Grass?” she asked quite suddenly.

“I don’t,” Twilight replied with great shame, embarrassed to not know the answer to a question asked.

The Lady, however, was not bothered.

“It is said that once upon a time, a great mage by the name of Redwood Grass traveled the realm searching for something,” began Lady Celestia, her fingertips glowing with magic and the illusion of a young man no larger than a bottle stood on the table, the hood of his red cloak barely hiding face.

“What was he looking for?” asked Twilight.

“Magic,” replied the Lady, and a large staff appeared in Redwood’s ghostly hand. He lifted it up and when it began to glow, she continued, “Magic in all shapes and forms. Very little mattered to him other than understanding and studying it completely.” Another pulse of magic, and Redwood aged until his clear skin was tainted with the damning passing of time. “He spent his entire life devoted to the matter. They say his notes rivaled Starswirl’s.”

“What happened to him? Why haven’t I ever heard of him?” asked my lonely beloved, and what a start when the Lady snapped her fingers and so did Redwood vanish from sight.

“Who knows,” said the Lady, leaning back with a smile. “There are no records of his final whereabouts or where he left his notes. He was so focused on magic itself, he had no friends or family to remember him and try to preserve his legacy.”

She paused.

“How many times have I sent you to North Ridge’s store this week?”

“Five,” Twilight replied. “Wait, uhm, six.”

“And in those six times you went, did you ever find out that North and his wife Frost Flower are experts on rune magic from the Undiscovered West? Knowledge that even I don’t possess?”

My beloved bowed her head. “No, Lady Celestia.”

“I would ask you why not, but we both know the answer to that,” said the Lady, delicately putting her cutlery on her plate. “As much as Flint and I enjoy your company, we should not be the only one you have. True magic, Twilight, cannot be gleaned just from books. Magic comes from how we connect with others, what we learn from them and teach them in return. I cannot teach you magic if you’re simply sitting there, waiting to be taught.”

Hours later, long after Twilight Sparkle had gone into town out of her own volition, Lady Celestia of The Sun sat in her lonely chair inside her lonely study inside her lonely mansion, and she stared at the little blue chair that had been unused for many lonely years.

Her fingertips again glowed with magic, and just like Redwood Grass, she conjured up an illusion to keep her company. The little girl from the dining room painting now sat on her little blue chair, her hands politely folded on her lap and her curious eyes piercing into the Lady’s.

“Why did I agree to take her in?” the Lady asked the child.

The child said nothing. She simply continued to stare, fidgeting on the chair and adjusting the small bracelet on her wrist.

“I miss you,” she continued softly. “Will you forgive me?”

Will you forgive me? she’d asked, folding her hands on her lap much like a vulnerable child would, and so she sat in silence, staring at this little girl as she did every Sunday and asking a question whose answer she feared above all else.

hello my name is monochromatic and i'll never stop doing inter-fic references of all my works

Twilight was concerned, to say the least.

She crossed the gravel streets with firm, quick steps, again clutching the outdated map Flint insisted on giving her every time she stepped out. Though she made an effort to smile and greet passersby, her brilliant mind was distracted by the very simple fact she hadn’t the faintest idea on how to give a class.

How could she, when she had yet to receive one herself?

This was the thought that hounded her, whispered in her ear until she turned right on Incantation Avenue and saw her destination in the distance: a colorful pastry shop in a sea of gray and dreary buildings, as though it had sucked the life out of them and kept it all to itself.

Twilight’s heart sped up, and the frayed map crinkled in her iron grip.

She could be studying, she thought.

She could be taking notes on Rune Magic from North Ridge and his wife, she told herself.

She debated turning back. The odds of her ever meeting that child again were slim to none, after all. The city of Canterlot was grand and large and full of people who died still waiting for their next big break, their next big trip, their grand escape out a life they were too busy dreaming to appreciate.

“Imagine if you’d left,” I said to her once, as we sat on the bridge filled with rusty locks and dead secrets. I grabbed a nearby lock and tugged on it once before continuing. “If you’d just turned around and gone back to your mansion and your teacher and your life in the lap of luxury. Lived a perfectly simple life with proper friends.”

I turned back to her and saw her looking down at the water, her legs dangling over the edge of the bridge. Her hand glowed with magic, and with a simple gesture, a key floated up from inside the river and into her hand.

“What about us?” she asked.

“What about us?” I replied carefully, hoping for something and nothing at all.

After a moment’s silence, she threw the key back into the water, talked about her newest lesson with the Lady, and that was the end of that.

There she stood, my dearest heart, debating whether or not to keep walking towards the shop up until the moment something caught her attention. There was a brick wall next to her, on which a variety of posters had been plastered throughout the passing of the years. Some were brand new, advertising a business or product or new event happening in town. Others were faded, torn and disfigured by months or years of being left out in the cold.

None of them particularly caught her attention.

Save for one.

There, on the wall, was a very simple purple poster showcasing a single pair of red-tinted lips, two white words elegantly written below it. It was unfortunate, then, that she could not read them, as someone had found it entertaining to ruin this exceptional calligraphy by scribbling all over it and offering their own title below it.

“Whores?” Twilight murmured, her brow creasing.

She stepped closer, trying to ascertain the original title of the piece, but failed. There was nothing else written on it save for a small note helpfully informing the viewer that tickets were 100 bits plus tax.

Despite her idle curiosity, she moved away, determined to go back to her more pressing matters. She glanced back at Sugarcube Corner and after a long, very long stare, finally moved towards it with a determination that seemed to ease her nerves.

Shame that didn’t last long.

Twilight was only a few feet away from the shop when a loud, thunderous voice coming from inside the shop stopped her in her tracks. Moments later, a red-faced man stormed out, gripping his wife’s hand as she hurried behind him, her nose stuck high up in the air.

“Shameful!” the man thundered, high and mighty and haughty and many other more inappropriate words I will spare you from listing out. “Absolutely shameful!”

No sooner had she finished, a second woman rushed out like the hurricane she always was. Wearing a burnt and dirty apron, my beloved friend Pinkie Pie seemed all too willing to give her wooden spoon a much more violent usage.

“You’re shameful!” she shot back, incensed.

“I thought this establishment served decent people!” continued the man, driven by the repressed emotional flurry that comes with cheating on your loved one twice a week and knowing she suspects.

“This place serves hard-working people trying to make a living, you jerk!” snapped back my friend, whom I adore and cherish and should treat to dinner more often.

“Come on, Ruby, let’s take our business elsewhere,” huffed the man, stomping away into the streets with his wife.

To all of this, Twilight didn’t know how to react.

She watched, perplexed, as Pinkie stomped back into Sugarcube Corner. After a moment’s composure, she stepped in to find the source of this so called indecency and was surprised to find nothing of the sort. All she saw was a familiar little girl looking very stricken and an even more familiar woman, standing by the counter with a tight-lipped smile.

There I stood, dressed in a simple blue summer gown of my own design, my long violet hair tied up in a ponytail, a simple pink necklace hanging from my neck, and all the courage of the world in my heart.

I would love to say that Twilight was overtaken with emotion when she saw me again; that her eyes lit up and her heart thumped against her chest. I would love to say she thought to herself that she truly had never seen someone as beautiful as I.

But I would be lying if I did.

All Twilight saw was me. A simple young woman with a simple smile, my appearance as nice and lovely and clean as though I were the girl next door, so different from our first meeting at the train station.

I seemed normal.

And I am, even if it’s a fight I carry with me every day.

“I’m so so so sorry,” Pinkie blurted out, going to me. “I didn’t kno—”

“It’s all right, darling,” I said quickly, not wanting to make more of a scene than we’d already had. I was fine, I was. It wasn’t the first time a client’s guilt had led them to humiliating me to make themselves feel better, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Regardless, my concern was not towards myself, but towards the child grasping my hand.

Twilight noticed her as well, concern awashing her face.

Sweetie Belle clutched my hand with the same iron fist she’d punched a child with, and the childlike excitement at a new experience was replaced with the sobering realization that life was, for the most part, rather terrible.

Especially for her whore of a sister, no?

Not that Twilight had even pieced this together, wonderfully brilliant though she is. All of these odd puzzle pieces she’d seen and hadn’t yet realized were one and the same. All she saw right now was a child crying, and that was the only thing that mattered.

I do believe that’s why I love her.

I bent down to try and console my sister, to encourage her to smile for whenever her teacher arrived, but then Twilight stepped forward, her compulsion to act only digging us further into the rabbit hole we’d fallen into.

Both Sweetie and I looked up at her, and our beautiful faces twisted into horrified expressions at the mere idea that Twilight had possible witnessed the humiliation I’d just been put through.

I remember very briefly wanting to laugh.

It was just my luck, was it not? The beautiful girl I’d been thinking endlessly about had to walk in at the precise worst moment. Of course, of course, of course. I panicked as well, as I said, wondered if she had seen or heard what had just transpired, and I felt shame.

Shame.

For the first time in a long while, I felt dirty.

It was disorienting, and upsetting, and enraging, and terrifying, these feelings I thought I’d long ago laid to rest, but they were all soon forgotten when Sweetie Belle pushed me to the side and ran out of the bakery.

“Sweetie!” I called out despairingly, rushing out behind her and stopping outside the shop. “Sweetie Belle!”

She did not come back. Why would she, when her sister had been humiliated in front of her teacher, and she’d been powerless to do anything about it.

When I looked back into the shop, I found several patrons staring at me, and the shame burned me even more.

“Shall I strike a pose for you all?!” I snapped, incensed, and felt some small amount of vindication when they all hurriedly looked away and returned to whatever they were doing.

I turned back towards the street and again ascertained the fact that my sister was long, long gone.

“Great,” I said when I stepped back in, too lost in my emotions and anger to care much about Twilight. I felt responsible, upset that my sister would miss her lesson with Celestia’s student just because of my line of work. “Fantastic. Splendid. Wonderful.”

Twilight watched me, still unsure of what to do or say. I turned to her briefly, compelled by her penetrating gaze, and we stared at each other for what seemed an eternity. I wanted to say something, anything to this mysterious stranger, but instead I looked away and she simply watched me as I marched to the counter and snatched my bag.

“I need to find her,” I said quickly to Pinkie, fighting away the tears twinkling in my eyes.

“I’ll go with you!” my friend immediately said, ready to close up shop just for me, but I shook my head and held her back with a hand.

“No, no, you have to stay here for whenever this woman arrives.” I opened my purse in a hurry, took out my wallet and then handed Pinkie a few bills. “Tell her something happened, and we’re terribly sorry for the inconvenience and that we want to reschedule.”

“But, Rarity,” Pinkie protested, “the city is so big, and Sweetie is so small, and you—”

“I’ll go with her.”

Out of all three of us, Twilight was the most surprised at the words that’d just left her lips.

We looked at each other, both wondering if we’d really heard what we’d just heard, and before I could say anything at all, a sudden rush of confidence overtook her and she stood up straighter than even before.

“I’ll help you find her,” she offered and extended her map. “I have a map.” She lowered her hand. “Though it’s not up to date. Maybe it won’t work. Do you have a newer map? Though why would you need a map if you live here? Actually, I’d get lost and I’d have to follow you, so I probably wouldn’t be much help at all.” She got what she considered was a brilliant idea. “I can levitate you to give you a better vantage point?” At my expression, she quickly retracted the suggestion and opened up her map, hoping it would point her towards a hole she could go bury herself in. “Hm.”

“You’re the strangest woman I’ve ever met,” I blurted, and when she lowered her map to protest, I reached forward and grasped her hand, the poor dear yelping as I dragged her towards the exit. “Off we go!”

We barely spoke as we set off in the direction of the boarding school. She tried several times to say something and get to know me, as the Lady had suggested, but would come up short in words whenever she tried. I think the only words we exchanged were to confirm the direction we were headed in.

When we reached the school’s big blue building, we rushed to the entrance, spoke to the porter, and my relief was immense at being told that Sweetie Belle had indeed gone back to her dorm.

This did, however, mean that Twilight and I had to part.

I turned to her awkwardly and offered a pained smile.

“Well. Thank you for helping me,” I said.

“O-Of course,” she said, even if privately she admonished herself for not doing anything but following me around. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“No, that’s all right,” I offered once I realized asking her to come home with me would be more than inappropriate. I looked back towards the building and grasped the necklace on my chest. “I… Sorry, I really must—”

“I understand,” she said, stepping back and gesturing towards a nearby bench, not wanting to lose her new friend. “I’ll wait.”

My heart sped up, and though I wanted to say many things, I said none at all and instead offered a silly nod, turning towards the building and rushing in.

She waited until the sun made its descent into the horizon, her nose stuck in some silly book about ghosts and labyrinths. So absorbed in it was she, she did not realize I’d returned until my voice startled her out of the scene she’d been reading.

“You’ve picked a lovely bench,” I noted, sitting besides her, one hand on my lap and the other on my necklace.

“Thank you,” she replied and her smile turned into a soft smirk. “Hopefully no one died on this one.”

My vexed expression made her laugh and she closed her book, enchanted by me as I was by her.

“I don’t think anyone has died,” I said rather theatrically, putting on my best story-telling airs, “but that red-stain over there isn’t very comforting.” We shared a laugh once again and I now offered a sincere smile. “Thank you. I appreciated your company.”

“Is your sister all right?” she asked, and her concern warmed my heart. Was she not perfect? Yes, she was.

“She’ll be fine,” I said. “She’s just very, shall we say…” I licked my lips and gestured with my hand. “... very defensive of me.”

“Why?” Twilight asked, her curiosity overriding her already poor social tact. “Because that man called you indecent? You don’t look indecent. Why did he call you that?”

I laughed, a little shocked by her lack of restraint. “Well!” I exclaimed. “Getting right to it, aren’t we?” I took a breath, prepared to explain, and yet… I couldn’t. The shame returned. “I-I… I’m a seamstress,” I said finally, which wasn’t a lie at all.

I was a seamstress, first and foremost, to the point I was more than willing to intimately know the human body if it meant excelling at my craft.

“A seamstress?” she asked, failing to understand why on Earth would that qualify me as an indecent person. “Do you make your clothes too revealing?”

I bit down a smile. “I… suppose you could say that, yes. My fashion is very avant-garde, you see.”

“Right,” she said with a nod, the poor dear assuming my biggest indecency was making skirts and dresses two inches above the knees. Bless her, really.

I looked towards the streets, and my mind dallied over towards the Lady’s student. I hoped she wouldn’t be too upset by Sweetie’s lack of presence.

“I’ll have to reschedule my sister’s class,” I thought aloud, and what a surprise it was when my mystery beauty nodded at once.

“That’s fine with me. What day would work best for her?” she asked, nevermind that hours ago she’d been wanting to get out of the entire affair.

I turned to her, confused. “Pardon?”

“The lesson,” she elaborated. “With your sister? She asked me to teach her…?”

I gawked at her, eyes wide, and somewhere in Canterlot, I knew Fancy Pants was laughing at me.

“Wait, wait. Wait a moment,” I said, stumbling over my words and trying not to curse out fate or destiny or my poor choices in life. “You…” I sat up straight and smiled politely. “What’s your name?”

“Twilight,” she said. “Twilight Sparkle.”

I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it. Fancy Pants had been right all along, damn him, and to make matters worse, I didn’t care. I was completely enchanted by Lady Celestia’s little student, and I wanted both to be furious and relieved, so I laughed instead.

“Why are you laughing?” she asked, a bit disconcerted.

“Twilight Sparkle,” I repeated, tasting every syllable in my mouth. “That’s a rather pretentious name, isn’t it?”

Her reaction was immediate and even more enchanting. She slammed her book to her chest, offended and embarrassed. It was adorable.

“My name is pretentious?! Your name is Rarity!”

“I never said I wasn’t pretentious, either,” I pointed out, and finally offered my most dazzling smile. The one I would only ever reserve for her. “It seems to me, Twilight Sparkle, that we’re going to be the best of friends, you and I.”

Once upon a time, a gray Sunday afternoon, a little girl visited Lady Celestia’s gardens.

“One hour,” her mother had said, giving the girl a meaningful look. “One hour. The gardens close at six.”

And in that hour, the girl made the mansion her castle, and the gardens her forest.

The maze of hedges, she decided as she walked through them, were the Lost Labyrinth of Mirceille, where many brave soldiers had fought terrible beasts. Not all of them had survived, unfortunately, though she went back and forth on how many.

Eighteen, she decided after picking a few berries from a nearby bush. It felt like an important number. Not too close to twenty, not too far from fifteen.

Now, why had those poor soldiers fought those awful beasts? Well, for a chance to meet the beautiful ruler of the Kingdom: Princess Beautiful the Pretty.

...Who admittedly was not the most creative or humble child to walk the land.

Inspecting her gardens, however, was a much more tiring affair than she’d expected. She’d decided that every tree in the estate was a living being and thus needed her royal blessing, but she quickly discovered that giving each and every one her royal blessing wasn’t particularly thrilling after the fifth.

“I’ll bless you later!” she yelled out to the remaining trees, hoping they wouldn’t be offended. Which they wouldn’t because they were trees and she was Princess Beautiful the Pretty and they should be honored regardless.

Her next goal was to find a Royal Grassy Area upon which to sit, but this too was thrown away when her eyes caught sight of the teensiest white kitten glaring at her from behind a tree.

“Kitty!” she gasped, clapping her hands together and rushing towards it.

To her great dismay, the cat did not seem fond of little children running up to play, and as soon as she tried to reach out towards it, it let out a frightening hiss and greeted her hands with a swipe of its sharp claws.

“H-Hey!”

Princess Beautiful quickly took back her hand, tears welling up in her eyes at the sight of the crimson-tinted scratches on it.

“Dumb cat,” she told it, and when the cat seemed all but offended, still glaring at her from behind the tree, the princess stalked away with her wounded pride and hand.

After a minute of wandering, she found a small bench on which to sit on. The years had not been kind on that poor bench, most of its painting faded away, but that did not bother her in the least.

All she cared for was that it was the perfect place to sulk.

“I just wanted to pet it,” she muttered with a sniffle, brushing her fingers on the scratch and smearing her own blood over the cut.

“Hello,” said an almost angelic voice.

With a start, Princess Beautiful turned around on the bench and saw the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen standing behind her in a yellow summer dress, her auroral colored hair neatly tucked behind a white hat. What truly struck her, however, were the woman’s stunning crimson-colored lips.

She was a fairy, the girl decided. The Fairy of the Forest.

“Hello…”

The fairy gestured to the bench. “May I sit with you?”

Knowing one did not deny a fairy’s request, the child remained silent, watching as the fairy walked around the bench and sat down next to her.

The fairy folded her hands on her lap and looked around, no doubt looking for the wicked witch that used to live in the castle.

“Where are your parents?” asked the fairy.

“I don’t have parents,” replied the child. “I’m a Princess.” After a moment’s thought, she added, “But if I had a mommy, she would come pick me up from the market at six.”

The fairy, bless her, did not comment on the fact that being a princess did not exempt one from having parents. Instead, she peered down at the child with wide eyes.

“A princess?” she asked.

The child nodded. “I’m Princess Beautiful the Pretty,” she informed her newly acquired subject, who immediately commited the highest of treasons when she giggled. “Why are you laughing?” asked the princess, cross.

“I’m not,” replied the fairy, even though she had. “It reminded me of another princess with a similar name! Princess Pretty the Beautiful.”

Princess Beautiful frowned. “That’s not similar!” she protested, her extraordinary originality suddenly threatened.

“No,” said the fairy. “I suppose it isn’t! And tell me, Princess Pretty, what kingdom are you from?”

“This kingdom,” stated the princess, gesturing to the gardens. “It’s mine.”

“Yours?” asked the fairy, surprised. “That house, too?”

“It’s a castle. And yes, it’s mine too.”

“Won’t you invite me in?” asked the fairy. “It seems like a lovely castle.”

The girl faltered at this, and the fairy quickly noticed.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“We-Well, we can’t go in there right now,” said Princess Beautiful, and she lowered her voice as she leaned in and whispered, “or we might run into the evil witch.”

The fairy gasped. “The evil witch?” she whispered back, pretending to be alarmed. “What evil witch?”

“Lady Celestia,” replied the Princess, and the fairy’s alarm was now anything but fake.

“Lady Celestia is a witch?” she asked, leaning back with an expression so severe, the little princess feared she’d upset the grand fairy. “Why do you say that?”

“She only lets children play in her gardens on Sunday. And she’s always in her mansion.”

“I see..." The fairy looked back towards the mansion, lost in thought until she spoke up again, her voice as soft as a child’s. “If she were to open the gates more often, would she still be an evil witch?”

The princess hummed, tapping her chin with a finger. She intended on replying that she might be nice enough to deem the evil witch free of her ‘evilness’, but whatever reply she had was interrupted when the fairy reacted to the scratches on the child’s hand.

“What happened to you?” she asked, eyeing the still-fresh wound with concern.

“A kitten,” said the girl, somewhat embarrassed. “It was jealous of me, so it scratched me. Because it was jealous.”

The fairy reached out with her hand. “May I?”

When the fairy took the princess’s hand, the very first thing the child noticed was how warm it was. What a soft and gentle touch from hands so perfect, the princess told herself the fairy must have been carved from a statue first.

“This shouldn’t hurt,” said the fairy.

She was lying, however.

Not that she knew she was. Not that the child knew. Not that they would ever know until much, much later.

The tips of her fingers lit up with white magic, and the child stared with fascination and fear as the fairy brushed the surface of the scratch like a brush on canvas, and slowly but surely, the wounds began to heal.

A minute later, the only thing left was a faint scar and a child whose entire life had changed.

As I sat there on the bench, staring up at this mesmerizing lady, my mouth ever so slightly ajar, I realized instantly that I wanted to be just like her.

I was convinced my life’s purpose was to somehow emulate this woman I’d just met.

“What are you?” I asked with the childlike wonder that excuses such a blunt question. “Are you a fairy?”

“No,” she said. “I’m a lady.”

“I want to be one!” I gasped, driven by righteous determination. I stood up on the bench and was the opposite of ladylike as I shook her quite desperately. “Please teach me!”

She laughed at this. She laughed with as much delight then as she would further on during some of the hundreds of times I visited her mansion, like for instance that one time as a teenager when I stayed the night while my parents were away for the weekend, and the Lady caught me trying on her many beautiful dresses.

Stars, they were beautiful.

“A lady,” she said between laughs, “does not stand on benches, to begin with.”

Chastised, I immediately sat down and tried to look as proper as a child could hope to look.

“Are ladies always as pretty as you?” I asked. “Do they always have lips as red as yours?” I gasped and clutched her with my small hands. “Will I have lips all red like that?! Is it because you’re a fairy?!”

“Oh no,” she said and took out a small golden tube from her bag, which revealed itself to be lipstick when she put it on. “It’s a custom-made lipstick from the western lands.”

Before I could reply, the voice of my mother interrupted me.

“Rarity!” she called out, standing under the distant gate. “Let’s go, sweetie!”

Though I was utterly devastated to part ways with the lady, I did not want to upset my mother and risk a scolding. With some reluctance, I jumped off the bench and turned to my new friend.

“Promise me you’ll be here next Sunday!” I begged her.

“Next Sunday? You can always come tomorrow,” she said and then lowered her voice. “I’ll have a talk with the evil witch.” She cleared her throat and waved to my mother, calling out, “She’ll be right there!”

Delighted, I held out my hand to shake hers. “Goodbye, miss lady,” I said, and what a surprise when instead of shaking my hand, she took it and delicately kissed the back of it.

“Goodbye, Princess Beautiful.”

“Oh!” I exclaimed, looking down at my hand and finding a very different result than the many times my aunties kissed me on my cheeks. “It didn’t paint my hand!”

“It wouldn’t,” said Lady Celestia with a wink. “A lady never leaves a mark.”

This is the second AU where my brain is saying "RariTwi plot" but my heart is already neck-deep in the Rarity and Celestia fractured mother/daughter relationship

The third time Twilight Sparkle met with me—the same day as her second class with Sweetie Belle—the poor dear still had no idea what to make of me.

“Here you are, Miss.”

Even as the waiter handed her a glass of lemonade, she was unable to tear her eyes away from me. How rude, the waiter must have thought, when she only half-heartedly acknowledged him. Rude, rude, rude, but really, who could blame the poor dear?

She was frustrated, you see.

Frustrated by this woman-shaped enigma who she could not define despite her vast vocabulary and who was pointedly ignoring her. She’d counted, because she was Twilight Sparkle and she counted those sort of things, and in the fourteen minutes we’d been sitting at the restaurant, I’d only actually looked at her twice.

She’s ignoring me, she decided, and she couldn’t figure out why.

It made no sense! I’d invited her! I’d asked her out to coffee after her class with Sweetie! And now I was ignoring her?!

I wasn’t, by the way. Not that she knew, but just to be clear with you, for you have been a wonderful audience, I would never dream of ignoring her. To try and ignore Twilight Sparkle is akin to trying to ignore the sun. You simply can’t. She was there, large and imposing and brilliant, and much like the sun itself, staring at her for too long burned you.

“So,” she said, trying to sound polite and move the lacking conversation along, “this is a nice place.”

I hummed in reply, my eyes scanning the outdoor restaurant, with its pink tables and pink umbrellas.

“It is,” I replied and nothing else.

It made her twice as frustrated, which was a shameless delight for me, but quite awful for her—particularly when she was almost as fascinated by me as I was by her.

“Right.”

“It’s always the third big question, isn’t it?” I said, finally, still looking away into the distance in a way I found suitably dramatic.

Twilight blinked at me, and she actually had to take a moment to figure out what she’d said to warrant that reply. “I—What?” she asked after failing to find it. “The third big question…?”

“Yes,” I continued and rewarded her with my gaze as I grabbed my glass and swirled the water around as though it were fine wine. With my free hand, I showed her two of my fingers and elaborated, “Whenever you meet someone, there’s always at least two big questions. What’s your name and what’s your story. Do you agree?”

“I guess? It’s always something like that, yes.”

“Exactly! And so you’ve told them your life story, your dreams and aspirations, thinking you’ve made a wonderful new friend, and then they reveal their true intentions to you when they smile, lean in and ask—” I put my glass down, leaned in and with a tilt of my head, grinned. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

My poor beloved didn’t quite know how to react. Was I… actually asking her…? Or…?

“It’s a hassle, honestly,” I continued before she could make up her mind, leaning back and crossing my arms. “Unless of course you’re looking for someone, in which case that’s fabulous for you, but what if you aren’t? And now you’re just standing there, biting down on your lip, suddenly having to question if this person’s entire interest in you is dependent on whether you’re available to dance or not, so to speak. It makes it so difficult for the people who are sincerely and innocently curious about it.”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, “I don’t understand where this came from or what you’re trying to get at.”

“That’s alright, dear. I only said that because I want to be clear with my intentions when I ask—” I offered her a grin that was neither sincere or innocent. “Do you have a significant other, Twilight?”

Twilight was so taken aback by my bluntness, she did not have time to hesitate. “No.”

I smiled. “I see! Thank you for answering.”

“What about you?” she asked immediately, somewhat embarrassed by the topic yet too polite—and intrigued—to end it. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

I leaned in again. “Why, Twilight,” I said, “how bold of you to assume I’m straight.”

Her cheeks caught fire, either at her assumption or my revelation, she wasn’t quite sure. “I wasn’t—! I mean—!” She defensively crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, you assumed the same thing!”

“Did I? I distinctly remember saying ‘significant other’,” I replied, and laughed gently at her mortification. “To be fair, I swing both ways, so it’s a common assumption people make about me. Don’t feel too bad about it, dear.”

“Right. Yes. Right.”

I giggled. “And to answer your question, no, I do not have a significant other.”

A strange relief overcame her at that answer. She told herself she was relieved simply because the conversation had ended and we could move on to other topics.

And I did! I spoke about Sweetie, and the city, and whatever trivial affairs came to mind. Twilight, however, did the opposite. She’d been ensnared not only by my question, but more than that, by a clarification that had gone unclarified.

For the entire hour we were there, she sat there trying to figure out how, when and if to ask for details, and it wasn’t until the very moment I was leaving that she mustered the courage.

“Wait, Rarity!”

I stopped walking and turned around. “Yes?”

“You… Uh…” An embarrassed blush tinted her face. “You never actually said what your intention was when you asked me if I was dating someone…?”

I blinked. “Oh? Oh yes, I didn’t, you’re right!” I exclaimed, and whatever sense of victory Twilight earned was quickly dealt with when I turned around and kept walking, waving back at her. “Well, I’m sure you know what I meant! See you Saturday!”

She did not know what I meant, even though she thought about it for quite a long time after that.

All she did know, even if she didn’t want to admit it, was what she hoped that I meant.

You have been a mostly wonderful audience. I say mostly if only because to say you are perfect would be to lie, and I rather think we are beyond that, you and I. Nothing in this world is perfect—not the sun, not the moon, not the stars and not even my beloved herself.

Nevertheless, you have listened, you have spoken, and you have accompanied me as I’ve weaved together a tale that isn’t really a tale at all.

A traditional story, you see, has a beginning, a middle and an end.

This one doesn’t.

I could very well stop talking right now, simply go quiet forevermore, and though you would not listen to the story any longer, it would be far from over.

Let me explain.

The swings complained as Twilight and I flew up and down in the air, the poor things not designed to carry the weight of someone much older than fourteen. The evening breeze accompanied us that night, brushing against our skin and our backs, as if trying to boost us higher still.

“Sweetie Belle asked me to write my biography today,” I said, the soles of my shoes brushing against the wet grass. “For an assignment at school.”

“Oh?” Twilight asked, slight confusion at the sudden unusual topic staved off by her infallible curiosity regarding anything and everything related to education and myself. “Have you done it yet?”

“No, but I’ve composed it in my mind just now. It’s quite brilliant, you know. Sure to win an award in literature.”

“Really?” she asked, waiting until our swinging coincided to playfully raise an eyebrow at me. “Let’s hear it.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Twilight,” I said at length, boosting myself ever so slightly so I’d be going just a teensy bit faster than her. “It’s really quite good. Too good, in fact. I’m afraid it might hurt your self-esteem. Wouldn’t want you realizing how inferior your essays to the lady are compared to my works.”

“Right.” Twilight laughed. “This coming from same person who tried to use the word ‘omninouslierest’ to describe someone beyond ominous.”

“Now, now,” I replied. “Nothing is a proper piece of writing until the English language is angrily crying.”

I don’t think I’d ever seen her roll her eyes quite that far back, but I still took pride in the grin on her face. Her small joys were my grand victories.

“Come on,” she insisted, and in her eyes I saw a challenge. “Let’s hear it.”

“Very well, very well,” I relented and cinematically jumped off the swing, turning to her with a twirl and clearing my throat. “The story of my life, dear Professor Whatever-Her-Name-Is, is the story of everybody’s life.”

“Of everybody’s life?” Twilight asked, tilting her head. “That… doesn’t sound right, Rarity.”

“But of course! After all, no one had a life before I was born!”

It wasn’t until the fourth time she’d swung back and forth that I realized she was not going to deign me with a reply. Which was fine, because I thought I was hysterical and honestly that’s all that mattered.

I cleared my throat and began to speak.

I started, of course, with the day of my dramatic birth in the Sunswept District’s public hospital. Dramatic because I was born several weeks too early and my life hung in the balance for my first months of life.

After that, I studied at the local public school all the way up until the day I went to Lady Celestia’s gardens and… well… on second thought…

“Okay. Let me— Okay— Wait—” Twilight swung to a stop and repeated what I’d said. “And you lived a ‘rather boring life’ until you took a job as a seamstress, and then you did that for a few years, and then you met me and now ‘here we are’?”

I smiled. “Yes.”

She blinked at me. “I… What?”

“What what?”

“Rarity! That’s not a biography!” she protested. “That’s a… a summary! A recap!”

“Yes, yes,” I replied dismissively, having realized that actually, I did not want my dear friend to know more about my life. I walked back to my swing and sat down. “I’ll work on it.”

Twilight shook her head. “Better than my essays,” she murmured loud enough for me to hear. “Right.”

We swung in silence for a few minutes after that, until I spoke up.

“We had to write epitaphs once when I was younger,” I said, pushing myself off the ground and resuming my childlike activity. “It was an assignment for school. We were supposed to pick a fictional character and write one for them.”

“Who did you pick?” Twilight asked.

“Myself," I replied and at her questioning gaze, I grinned. “I thought I was far more interesting than make-believe people.”

“Well, what did you write, then?”

I swung one, two, three times before I replied.

“Here lies Rarity,” I said, “who obviously didn’t figure out how to live forever.”

Admittedly, I expected Twilight to laugh. I wanted her to be amused at my younger self’s ingenuity and creativity, and she would realize charm had been a trait I’d always possessed.

But she didn’t laugh. She didn’t say anything at all, in fact. She simply looked out into the horizon, her eyes slightly narrowed, and her thoughts already twenty steps ahead of me.

“Yes, you did,” she said instead, and offered no more explanation.

“Yes, I did? Yes, I did what?”

“Figure out how to live forever,” she replied as her swinging came to a stop. “Scientifically-speaking, if you died today, your consciousness would be gone, but your body would keep living as something else. If you’re buried in the ground, then you’d live as nutrients for the earth and then be the tree that would grow from that. Even if you were cremated, you’d still be something. The ‘you’ you think of as Rarity wouldn’t be alive, but the actual physical Rarity would still be alive, just as something else.”

I elected not to tell her that beside being a lady-killer, she was also a mood-killer. I snorted instead.

“Am I to believe that the tree standing over my grandfather’s grave is my grandfather, then?”

“In a way, yes.”

“But that isn’t my grandfather. It might be what he became next, but the grandfather I knew is dead,” I said. “Which will be the case when I die, and therefore I, Rarity, did not discover immortality.”

“Yes,” she replied. “Yes, you did. Well, maybe not immortality, but you’ll still be alive even after dying. At least for a few more years.”

“Darling, I hope you realize that makes absolutely no sense.”

“Yes, it does, because—” She cut herself off, her mind now fifty steps ahead of her mouth, and much to my dismay, she declined to elaborate. “Nevermind. It was just a thought,” she said suddenly, and a quick glance at her pocket watch only helped in pushing the thought further away. “And I’m late for supper!”

Ignoring my protests that the lady could wait, she jumped off the swing and gathered her things, bidding me a goodbye as hasty and abrupt as the end of our previous conversation.

“Wait, Twilight!” I called out until she turned around to face me. “You can’t just leave our conversation there! Tell me how that makes sense!”

Her hand gripped the strap of her bag, her eyes fluttering back and forth between the mansion in the distance and the woman on the swings, until she finally decided to make sense of it all and explained by not explaining a thing.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” she asked. “What you told me?”

“That a boy died on a bench?”

“No,” she huffed and then relaxed. “Actually, that’s somewhat related. But no, not that.”

“That you are a strange but fascinating individual?”

“No,” she replied again, failing to hide her pleased smile. With a sigh not unlike mine, she elaborated. “You asked me if I’d miss you when you’d be gone, and…” A blush crept up her cheeks and the hand grasping the strap of her bag tightened. “I will. I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

Despite how immensely pleased that made me, my mind did not allow me to dwell on this much.

“Well, darling, I’m flattered, but that still doesn’t explain why I’ll live even after I’m dead.”

“Yes,” she said, with that particular little smile she always sported when about to say something that would keep me up at night. “Yes, it does.”

Hours later, just when the Sapphire Carrousel would be at its busiest, a young woman with bruised knuckles and ethereal wings made her way through the navy corridors until she reached a blue double door bearing a crescent moon.

“Boss?” called out my dear Rainbow, knocking on the door. “Hey Boss, we kinda have a situ—”

The opening of the doors cut her off and she stepped in, her sights set on the beautifully sombre woman sitting behind a desk at the end of the room. With all the grace in the world, the Lady of the Artistic and the Depraved put down the newspaper she was reading and stared at the Sapphire’s head of security.

“Is tonight’s rehearsal cancelled?”

Rainbow faltered. “Rehea— For the play? Er, no, that’s still good, but—”

“Then I’m not needed,” the Lady cut off, turning back to her newspaper.

“Boss,” Rainbow insisted. “It’s the lineup. Some fancy client asked for it, and now he’s all pissed off because the chick he wants isn’t there. She says she doesn’t want to do anything tonight.”

Lady Luna stared at her, and it wasn’t until a full minute had gone by that poor Rainbow continued.

“What do you want me to do…?”

“Why are you asking me?” asked Lady Luna, going back to her newspaper. “The lineups and related activities have nothing to do with my theatre. Whether one of the ladies desires to work tonight or not is not of my concern unless they’re also part of the play.”

Rainbow cleared her throat. “Yeah, so, er, okay, see, that’s the thing. Because I told this dude that she has rehearsal tonight, and he insisted, so I told him I’d go check with her just to shut him up, but when I went to see her, she like told me that she doesn’t want to do anything tonight—not even the play.”

Lady Luna was quiet for a moment.

“Who are we referring to?”

“Rarity,” Rainbow elaborated. “Rarity doesn’t want to do anything tonight.”

Lady Luna let out a weary sigh, closing the newspaper and pinching the bridge of her nose. Poor woman! I’d constantly driven her insane ever since I was a child, and yet she still put up with me.

“Why does she not want to work tonight?”

Rainbow cleared her throat. “Well.”

“Yes?”

“Just to be clear, I told her it was stupid, but she—”

“Yes?”

Rainbow cleared her throat. “Because she’s… she says it’s because she’s ‘in love’.”

Dear stars, what I would have given to see the expression on the Lady’s face.

“Because she is in love,” the Lady repeated. “With who?”

“I dunno,” replied Rainbow, crossing her arms. “Rose Petal thinks she’s in love with that one client—y’know, Blueface or whatever—and Big Mac thinks she’s just makin’ it up to get out of rehearsal, but I’ve been hangin’ out with her more than any of them, and I think it’s that one mage from the Sunswept District.”

In a single instant, all the weariness vanished from the Lady’s face and was replaced instead with an intrigue almost bordering on glee.

“With Twilight Sparkle?” she asked carefully. “The student of my sister?”

“Her, yeah, yeah!” Rainbow replied, but her attempt to gossip about my lovelife was interrupted when our dear Lady began to laugh, and laugh, and when Rainbow asked her what was so funny, the Lady grinned.

“It is most amusing,” she said, “how one cannot escape fate’s design.”

so much raritwi stuff that I've seen has Twilight being a complete goof over a MYSTERIOUS™ Rarity and honestly i'm here for Rarity trying to be mysterious until it turns out that Twilight is and the entire fic is Rarity trying to cope with being hopelessly smitten

Bonus Chapter by Carabas

It was on our sixth meeting that Twilight Sparkle did the impossible.

“It’s not fair!”

Sweetie Belle’s voice echoed in the lobby, the pout on her face doing a fantastic job at making her look like a chipmunk. I’d have noted how endearing it was if I was not busy pouting myself.

“Sweetie Belle, honestly!” I whispered urgently, smiling briefly at the curious security guard before glaring at my sister. “Stop arguing, will you?”

“No!” she protested, ignoring me when I gestured for her to lower her voice. “I’m the one she comes to see! I want go out with her after classes, too! It’s not fair that I can’t come along!”

“Sweetie, really, you’re making a scene over nothing! If you come along with us, you’ll only be dreadfully bored by our adult conversations!”

My sister stamped her foot on the ground. “I’m an adult! I’m an adult!”

“Oh, really?” I asked, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow. “What’s a mortgage?”

“A what?”

“Point proven.”

“No!” she whined, moving forward and clutching my dress. “I wanna go! Why won’t you let me?!” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously and whispered, “...Are you going to do your work with her?”

“My wo—Sweetie Belle!” I gasped, my scandalized face as crimson as my lips. “No! Absolutely not! No! Sweetie Belle, really!” I chastised, for it was such a silly idea! Such a silly statement! As if a poor awkward woman like Twilight Sparkle would have the nerve to stride into the Sapphire Carousel, bat her eyelashes at me, caress my cheeks with the tips of her magic fingers and ask for my rate.

“Rarity? Rarity!”

The screeching voice of my sister awoke me from my admittedly lustful reveries, and before I could say a thing, she started lobbying false accusations my way.

“How come you’re always so excited for my classes with her, huh? And why are you always staring at her during class?! And why—” Her eyes went wide and she let out a gasp, the pieces falling into place. Stepping back and covering her mouth with her hands, she condemned me. “You like like her!”

And the second I foolishly faltered, the banshee of the nine hells was unleashed upon my poor ears.

“Oh my gosh, you like like her?!” screamed my little sister for the entire damn world to hear. “Do you?! Do you like her?! Is that why you want to spend time with her?! Rarity! Rarity, do you?! Rari—”

“Absolutely not!” I lied, flipping my hair away and harrumphing. “Me?! Regard the student of Celestia in any other way than polite friendship? Please! Please! Don’t be ridiculous!”

Sweetie lowered her voice. “Oh,” she said, and crossed her arms behind her back and smiled innocently. “Okay! I was gonna let you be alone with her if you liked liked her, but since you don’t, then I’m gonna go with her!” Without warning, she curled her hands around her mouth and howled. “TEACHER TWIL—”

“Fine! Fine, you little demon!” I hissed, slamming my hand against her mouth. “Yes, I like like her! All right?! Will you stop this torture now?!”

Sweetie’s grin was shameless. It seemed I’d taught her far too well.

“Uh…”

We turned towards the entrance doors and saw the woman of the hour poking her head in.

“Did you just call me?” she asked, and when my sister nodded her head, I panicked.

“I did!” she exclaimed joyfully, only to almost masterfully change her expression into one of a poor, desolate child. It was like looking at a younger version of my well-meaning manipulative self. I was both horrified and immensely proud. “I’m sorry, teacher…” said my sister. “I wanted to go be with you and Sis, but I can’t.”

“You can’t?” asked Twilight, stepping into the lobby, concern etched on her face. “Why not?”

With almost practiced perfection, Sweetie looked down towards the floor. “Because…” She looked back up and took a few steps towards Twilight, gesturing for her to bend down.

When she did, Sweetie leaned in, whispered something in her ear, and let me tell you, I never fully understood the true meaning of cold-hearted betrayal until the moment Twilight’s eyes immediately flickered towards me as Sweetie whispered.

Et tu, Sweetie, indeed.

“Right,” said Twilight, and nothing else.

“‘Kay!” exclaimed Sweetie, stepping away and giving me a big grin. “See you tomorrow, Sis! Bye, teacher!”

We watched as she ran off into a hallway and once she was gone, I turned to Twilight, already bracing myself for whatever had been told to her.

Twilight, instead, simply gestured towards the door. “Should we…?”

I quickly gathered my bearings. “Ah, yes! Yes, of course! Let’s!” I said hastily and followed her towards the door.

I readied myself to open it as we approached, but instead Twilight made a simple gesture with her hand and the crystal double-doors swung open before me. Impressed by such casual display of magic, I slowed my step. Though I fully expected her to walk out before me, she stopped at the door and turned to me, bowing ever so slightly.

“After you,” she said with a smile, and I must confess I hadn’t been aware I could feel short of breath by having someone smile and open the door for me, but there I was, hurrying out so she wouldn’t see me biting down a smitten grin.

A breeze of cold air hit my face, and the slight shock of it helped me shake off the remaining traces of my feelings for Twilight.

“So!” I exclaimed, having forgotten all about Sweetie’s whisperings. I turned to her and, much like my sister, crossed my arms behind my back. “Where shall we go?”

Twilight’s brow creased, and with another gesture of her hand a map and notebook floated out her bag. Stars, as impressed as I was, I was also envious. What was second nature to her took immense effort for me! My magic wasn’t awful, no, but certainly limited to sewing and very basic levitation — levitation that wasn’t even nearly as seamless as hers.

She hummed, looking over her notes and map.

“Well… I’ve never been to the Lunar District,” she said. “I heard there’s a theatre there, and some artistic attractions.” She turned to me. “That’s where you live, isn’t it?”

“Ah… Yes! Yes, I do, but…”

I thought of my neighborhood. It certainly wasn’t anything like the prim and proper neighborhood Twilight was used to living in. The Lunar District, much like the night, was beautiful but dangerous as well.

I lived there, after all.

Was that too much? It was, wasn’t it? I can’t help it, I must be theatrical when talking of Twilight!

In any case, putting aside the deadly beautiful seamstress living there, the Lunar district was not one for tourists and newcomers to the city, and certainly not for someone whom I didn’t want knowing too much about me quite yet.

“But…?” Twilight asked at my silence.

“But the Sunswept District is so much more exciting!” I said. “The shops are all so lovely, and we can go for a walk in Lone Isle Park.”

Twilight hesitated “Well…”

“You’ll see!” I exclaimed, striding off towards the nearest inner-city train station. Better not give her time to think, I thought. “It’ll be grand.”

The sun was setting by the time we reached the posh neighborhood of the city, though no one seemed in a hurry to go home. It was always at this time, when the moon and the sun collided and created the twilight, that the city truly roared to life.

If I had been bolder, I might have told my companion that she never looked lovelier than under the light of her namesake.

But I wasn’t, and so I didn’t.

Men and women, girls and boys, all walked past us as we made our way along Westley Avenue, the street dipped in the artificial orange hues of the city’s metal streetlights. Street vendors stood on every corner, belting out the quality of their hot treats to the chattering crowds that might have ten coins to spare.

It was so painfully nostalgic, these roads I’d once called my own.

“Do you miss your home terribly?” I asked Twilight, my eyes jumping from one window display to the other, my mind trying to extract inspiration for designs in what I saw.

“Not terribly,” Twilight replied, “but I do miss it. Especially my brother.”

“Your brother? I didn’t know you had one!” I turned towards her and adjusted my shawl. “Is he also a terribly talented mage like you?”

She blessed me with a smile. “You could say that. He’s more proficient in defensive magic, though.”

“And what are you proficient in?”

“Everything,” she said.

“Well!” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Quite the prodigy, hm?”

“I don’t mean it like that!” she exclaimed defensively. “Well, I do, but... I don’t really have a type of magic I excel at. I just… I can do all kinds of magic. That’s all.” She was eager to move on to me. “What about you? Sweetie mentioned once that you knew some spells.”

“Ah…” I looked in front of me. “I suppose you could say so, yes. Granted, I’ve not practiced in some time, but I can do very basic levitation of small objects and precision magic. I’d venture to say my forté is illusion magic.”

She raised her eyebrow. “Illusion magic? That’s pretty advanced! Are you self-taught?”

“Oh, no no! Heavens, no. I… I had a teacher when I was younger. She tried to teach me more, but my magic essence was, er, lacking in potential.” I cleared my throat. “Nevertheless, I decided that my expertise was in things other than magic.”

Twilight perked up. “Oh? You mentioned you were a seamstress, aren’t you?”

“And a designer, too!” I added, proudly. “Of all types of things.”

“Are you self-taught?” she asked again, and again I answered the same.

“No, I’m not. My teacher also taught me how to sew,” I elaborated. “That’s what we focused on after we decided magic was best left as a hobby.”

“That’s quite a teacher,” Twilight said, clearly impressed. “I wish I could have met her.”

Hah! If only she knew!

If only she knew.

“Do you still keep in touch?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, Twilight,” I replied, and offered a polite smile, “but can we change the topic?”

And I’m sure she would have agreed if the busy city streets hadn’t led us straight towards an entirely more interesting route.

“Rarity!”

We turned around, and who did we see walking towards us amidst the crowd but my simultaneously best and worst dream. With intertwined arms and angel smiles and devil eyes, Lord Fancy Pants and Duchess Fleur De Lis filled our horizon.

“A-Ah, Fancy! Fleur! Good evening,” I said hastily, for once uncomfortable to run into them in public. “What a coincidence, running into you here…”

Fancy laughed. “You’d almost think we live two blocks away!”

I smiled thinly. “Ah. Right.”

“Rarity, tis’ not often you come ‘ere,” Fleur said next, undressing me with her eyes before looking at my companion and fluttering her eyelashes. “And with such prestigious company, too.”

Fancy flashed Twilight a dashing grin. “Twilight Sparkle, I presume! This is my lovely wife, Fleur de Lis, and my name is Fancy Pants,” he exclaimed, extending his hand. “An honor to meet you at last, my dear.”

Poor Twilight was more than confused as she shook his hand.

“Meet me at last?” she asked.

“Why, yes!” His eyes flickered towards me for a moment. “A pretty little birdy has told us much about you, you know?” At my glacial, threatening stare, he added, “Can’t tell you who, however. Wouldn’t want to lose my spot in the city’s gossip circles!”

Fleur disentangled herself from her husband and went to Twilight, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Non, non! Do not listen to my husband! He is as silly as the cravat he insists on wearing.”

“What—! I say, it’s not silly at all! It brings out my eyes.”

In reality, all that green horror did was bring out the fact that he’d doubtless been hungover when dressing this morning, but I certainly wasn’t going to point that out.

Fleur rolled her eyes before readdressing Twilight. “We’re very good friends with Lady Celestia,” she elaborated. “She speaks very highly of you.”

“She does?!” gasped Twilight, basking in two seconds of euphoria before clearing her throat and trying to look somewhat dignified. “Does she? I’m glad to hear that.”

Fleur moved away from my beloved and back to her own, her hand finding his as her eyes flickered back and forth between us.

“And what do you think of our little Rarity, Twilight?” she asked, much like her husband ignoring my stern expression of disapproval at her question.

Even if I was curious.

“We’re very fond of her,” Fancy added, his smile sultry in a way only Fleur and I could recognize. I could feel myself grow hot. “Very versatile, our dear Rarity.”

Damn them.

“She was telling me as much earlier,” Twilight replied, and their eyes fixed on her. Gauging to see how much she knew, and more than that, what she knew. Twilight looked at me for confirmation when she added, “You would have to be versatile if you’re an outfit designer, right?”

I coughed. “One tries to be so, yes.”

The couple smiled in near perfect unison. Ah, they seemed to say with their eyes. She doesn’t know a thing.

“She’s designed smashing dresses for Fleur, in fact,” continued Fancy, his evil little mind already machinating how to take advantage of the situation.

“Mmmm… Very comfortable, too.” Fleur leaned in towards me and lifted my chin with a finger. “Sometimes I feel like she knows the details of my body better than I do, n’est ce pas?”

Snakes! The both of them! And they knew it, too! One could only dream of being so shamelessly bold.

“So, do tell, where are you two headed?” I asked, hoping that my tone conveyed my desire for them to tell me and then go there immediately.

Fancy, thankfully, decided to end my suffering.

“Home, I should think! The night is young, my wife has high heels, and I am hungover,” he exclaimed, a little peace offering so I would forgive them for their teasing.

I grinned. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Shame,” said Fleur, cozying up to her husband in a way that made me wish I could do the same with Twilight. “He might listen to you. This silly man is far too taken by my beauty to pay attention to anything I say to him.”

Fancy adjusted his monocle. “Really! You’d think being in love is a crime.”

Fleur disentangled herself from him and offered Twilight her hand. “I do hope we see you again, Miss Sparkle.” After shaking hands with her, she turned to me and her smile turned lovingly predatory. “And we will see you tomorrow night, mon ange,” she said, leaning in to hug me and staying there long enough to whisper in my ear: “I do hope you won’t be too worn out, mmm?”

Fiends!

“Goodbye, ladies!” exclaimed Fancy, waving to us as they walked away. “Do enjoy the rest of your night!”

Twilight was the first to speak when they were gone.

“Well,” she said, “they were nice, but a bit…” She struggled to find what to say.

“Eccentric,” I said. “Eccentric is the word you’re looking for.”

Twilight frowned. “Right. Let’s go with that.”

As Fancy had said, the night was young and I’d be hard-pressed to be separated from Twilight any time soon.

She asked me about Fancy and Fleur as we continued to walk, and I spoke to her in vague but ultimately truthful terms. They were close friends I’d had for a few years now, as well as customers. I didn’t specify what they purchased from me, and she thankfully did not ask.

She did, however, ask where my studio was, or where one could go see my designs.

It’s complicated, I ended up telling her. I didn’t have a studio per se, and I was very busy doing private commissions for a high-profile client, which again, was not a lie. Lady Luna paid me ridiculously well for the costumes I made for her plays, but that was also because she demanded quite a lot from me.

Not that I had ever failed her, of course. My designs always did what she wanted them to, whether it was enchanting the children who saw them in her children’s theatre down by the Dragon District or make the patrons who attended the Sapphire’s late show hot enough to purchase another cold drink or two.

We eventually reached Lone Isle Park, characterized by being the only park in the city that had a lake inside of it. It was, after the Lady’s Gardens, my favorite outdoor place to be in as a child and teenager. How many hours had I sat there under the shade of the trees, watching with envious eyes as lovestruck couples strolled about, as lost in each other’s gaze as they were in their hearts.

The memories came back to me as we walked, and it was hard for me to suppress the desires of my heart—not the risqué ones, but the childishly innocent ones. How silly, I was! Me, who previously had no problem luring Twilight into my little games, now was too flustered by the idea of somehow holding her hand.

She spoke as we walked, and you’ll forgive me when I omit some details as they are not relevant. She only told me of a similar park back home, and I told her a few fun facts I’d learned of the park as a child.

The real point of interest in this little story was a little further along the path, taking the form of a large lake in the middle of the park.

Lake Delorne, the habitat of ducks, insects, and fish who all demanded food from whoever dared to sit on the lake’s retaining wall. A romantic spot, if I do say so myself, which is why I innocently led Twilight to it, and where she understood where the name Lone Isle Park came from.

There was a barren islet right in the middle of the lake, locally known as Stargazing Point.

I hope I don’t need to tell you what it was popular for.

“There are so many stars tonight,” noted Twilight, leaning over the edge of the retaining wall and gazing at the stars’ reflections dotted on the water. She reached out and curiously dipped her fingers in the water only to take them back. “It’s freezing!”

“It is nearly winter,” I noted and readjusted my shawl for the tenth time that hour. I noticed Twilight was wearing both a sweater and a cloak, and so I sighed quite theatrically. “If only I’d thought to bring a cloak of my own! I’m freezing in this shawl.”

What a smile I made when Twilight quickly scrambled into action.

“Oh, err, hang on,” she said, lifting her hand towards her cloak’s fastener.

I was already preparing my practiced “Oh, Twilight, I simply can’t accept! No, I can’t! I can’t! Well, if you insist…” but the opportunity to re-enact a tired cliché from every romance novel out there was suddenly and rudely stolen from me.

“Actually,” said my beloved, letting go of the fastener. “I have a better idea.”

She took a step back and snapped her fingers; I yelped with surprise when a floating red flame the size of a lantern appeared before her, immediately warming me up.

“There!” she exclaimed, pleased with herself. “Will this work?”

“Well,” I huffed good-naturedly. “Now you’re just being a show-off, Twilight.” Before she could offer apologies for it, I seized my opportunity and went to her, intertwining my arm with hers and cuddling close to her and the warm flame. “And I shall take advantage of it, if you don’t mind.”

“O-Of course not,” she blurted out, bless her.

We continued to walk in pleasant silence, and all I could think of was how nice it felt. How warm she was, how well my arm linked with hers, and how she smelled of old books and fresh ink. I prayed she didn’t find me strange or was in any way put off by me.

Our hands were so close together as we walked, as well, and it was an entirely new kind of torture to want to hold her hand and not be able to.

It was ridiculous! It was! Even then, as I tried to focus my sights on anything else but her, I couldn’t help but think how silly it all was. I barely knew her! I’d only met with her a couple of times, and yet I clung to her as if I’d longed for her my entire life!

Maybe I had longed for her my entire life. I certainly did then, and I certainly would afterward.

Even now, as I tell you this story, I long for her still.

“You know, I always wanted to go to Stargazing Point as a child,” I said, an effort to focus on something other than finding an excuse to hold her hand. “Take one of the little boats and have a dashing person take me there to tell me about the stars.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I suppose because my parents found it too expensive.”

And I always feared that asking my teacher would make her think of me a child.

“Why don’t we go now?”

I stopped and turned to Twilight.

“Pardon?”

“Stargazing Point,” she said, and I could hear excitement bubbling up inside her. “Why don’t we go now? It’s a clear night and the stars are all out.”

“But we can’t,” I said. “It’s already nighttime! The boat rental closed hours ago.”

“So?” she said, just like that.

I gawked at her. “So? What do you mean ‘so’? There is no other way to get there but with a boat.”

“That’s not entirely true.”

“Twilight, I hope you understand I’m not going to swim there.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“It isn’t? I see!” I sat on the retaining wall and looked at her, tilting my head and fluttering my eyelashes. “Are you planning on walking there, perhaps? Take a leisurely stroll on the water, hm?”

She stared back at me for a moment, deep in thought, until finally, it was she who smiled.

“Actually,” she said, “yes. Yes, I am.”

I think I laughed. “Walk on water? Twilight, you—Twilight?”

With a snap of her fingers she doused the magic fire, leaving me defenseless against the cold. Another gesture of her hand and her bag opened, a worn-out book floating into her hands.

“There’s a spell here,” she said, quickly leafing through the pages, “the one that flight mages use to stand on clouds when they’re flying. Ah-ha!” She stopped at a page and looked it over. “Clouds are just condensed water vapor, right? So, if I combine that spell with…” She flipped through a few more pages and read. “...and then if I…” Again, she flipped through a few more and stopped. “Combine it with this one and the one from page thirty-six… There!”

“There what?” I asked when she closed the book and levitated it over to the retaining wall, along with her bag. “Twilight! Twilight, you’re not really going to try, are you?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I am.”

“Twilight, you can’t! The water is freezing! What if it doesn’t work?”

“It will,” she said, her fingertips lighting up with magic and her face with a look of determination that was hard to argue against.

So I didn’t.

“You’re insane,” I told her, even though I myself now shared her excitement. “I won’t let you use my shawl as a towel, just so you know.”

She said no more to me.

She only licked her lips, took several steps back, and murmured what I assumed to be the incantation she’d apparently just concocted. Her fingertips crackled with raspberry-colored magic, and soon enough her shoes began to faintly glow.

My God, I thought. She’s actually going to try.

I stared at her, waiting and waiting and waiting, and after it felt like I’d waited there forever she finally rushed forward, jumping onto the retaining wall and then jumping towards the lake without hesitation.

It felt as if time had come to a crawl.

I watched, my heart hammering in my chest, as her feet approached the water and—

SPLASH!

My shrieks echoed throughout the park when I jumped off the retaining wall in a desperate attempt to avoid the water splashes sent my way. However, not even a second after I’d run away did I run back, leaning over the wall and looking around in horror.

“Twilight?! Twilight, where are you?!” I called out, already imagining her freezing to death at the bottom of the lake. Why had I let her try?! “Twilight, please!”

When I continued to hear and see nothing, I stepped back. I’d have to jump in after her. I had to! Granted, I would probably be paralyzed by the frigid water and then go join her underwater, but at least we’d have a poetic death in some respect.

I gathered my courage and ran towards the retaining wall, letting out a startled yelp when Twilight finally emerged out into the surface, coughing out water and gasping for air.

“Twilight! Twilight, thank goodness!” I exclaimed, climbing up onto the wall and extending my hand towards her. “Hurry! Hurry, take my hand before you freeze to death!”

My poor beloved swam towards me, and my heart ached for her. It was clear on her face how she felt about her splashing failure, and I wanted nothing more than to console her after I made sure she didn’t get hypothermia.

Her hand was freezing when she grasped mine, and I helped her over the wall on which she sat down and hugged her soaking self.

“That didn’t work,” she muttered between clacking teeth, the wet hair plastered on her face doing little to hide the frown she wore.

I insisted she take off her coat and sweater so I could squeeze the water out of them. Once that was done, I took off my shawl, ignoring her protests when I wrapped it around her, hoping it would absorb some or most of the water still ailing her. It didn’t actually do much, sadly, but the fire she conjured up to dry herself seemed to be working.

“Come on, dear,” I said soothingly, trying to will her up. “Let’s go home so—”

“I can’t believe that happened,” she cut-off, still lost in her shamed world. “That was stupid of me.”

“Now, now, you’re being too hard on yourself!” I insisted, and when she gave me a pointed stare, I smiled brilliantly and brushed back her wet bangs. “Everyone’s done stupid things to try and impress pretty girls, hmm?”

Now, I don’t know if you remember the first time I met Twilight. You know, on that bench in the train station. Do you? Well, if you do, you might remember the one thing that permanently imprinted Twilight in my soul.

Her stare.

The stare she gave me, analyzing and examining and figuring me out all in one go, as though she’s not merely seeing you, but she’s looking right into your soul.

Well, it happened again.

As soon as I finished my sentence, my gentle tease that was more wishful thinking than anything else, her expression changed. It changed from frustration and embarrassment to something as burning as the fire she’d earlier summoned.

Nothing else existed in that moment for her. Nothing save for the pretty girl she’d tried to impress.

And thus, my beloved made a choice, and though I could not look into her mind, her expression held me in place. Intense, and burning, and blinding like the sun. The air shifted around us, the cold was long forgotten, and all that I had left was the crazy desperate impression that she was going to lean in to kiss me.

And she did in a way kiss me, though not in the way you’d expect. Not with lips, or touch or all the things we think a kiss is. She kissed me in the single most decidedly Twilight Sparkle way she could.

With magic.

Without a word to me, she took off the shawl and jumped up, walking several feet away before turning around to face the lake, her fingertips already bursting with magic.

“Twilight?!” I gasped, standing up. “Twilight, what are you doing?! You’re not trying again, are you?!”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I am.”

“Twilight, have you gone mad?! You can’t try again! Do you want to die of hypothermia?! Stop this!”

She ignored me, and instead rolled up her sleeves, revealing a bright pink ribbon tied around her wrist. Still staring at the lake, she undid the ribbon and then used the lace to tie her hair up into a ponytail.

Her sudden determination would have been blindingly attractive if under different circumstances.

Deciding I did not want to lose my new crush to her own damn stubbornness, I stomped my way towards her but stopped when a blinding burst of magic shot out of her hands. I shielded my eyes with my arm, and when I finally lowered it, my eyes went to her shoes.

The soft glow from before was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead with a vivid brilliance that cut through the dark.

I was compelled to step back, sit down on the retaining wall and let this absolute madwoman do as she wished.

“Twilight…” I said, one last attempt to reason with her that fell on deaf ears.

She took one, two, three steps back and then, without thinking twice, ran forward, jumping on the wall and then towards the river just as I turned away, too horrified to look.

I waited for the inevitable splash, and yet it never came.

I only heard a soft thump and an even softer gasp.

My eyes flew open under my hand.

Did… Did she do it?

Bracing myself, I lowered my hands, turned around and felt the world around me disappear.

There she was, Twilight Sparkle herself, crouching on the water’s surface with her back turned towards me, her fingers still glowing with a magic I’d never dreamed of.

“Twilight…”

Her name left my lips like a breathless whisper as I watched her slowly stand up, and when she turned to look at me, her eyes betrayed the fact that she was just as surprised as I was.

“Rarity…”

“Twilight, you did it,” I said, my racing heart demanding I stand up and kneel on the retaining wall, trying to get closer to her. “Stars alive, you did it! Look at you!”

She broke into a winning smile. “I did… I did! I did it!” Her nervous, glee-filled laughed filled the air, and much like a child, she jumped up and down on the surface of the water. “I did it! Wait until I tell Lady Celestia!”

“Twilight, wait, don’t jump like that, for Heaven’s sake!” I scolded, somewhat panicked that she might plunge down into the water. “Don’t test your luck!”

Obviously, she ignored my concerns and continued to jump, skip and run around until I gave up and settled on sitting down to proudly watch her revel in her amazing achievement.

“Rarity!” she called after a moment “Get up!”

“Get up?” I asked.

“We’re walking to the island!” she elaborated, running up and standing on the other side of the retaining wall. “I’m going to cast the spell on you, too.”

“What—? Me? But, Twilight!” I crossed my arms and stepped back. Just because it had worked once didn’t mean it would work again, and while she might have survived those frigid questionable waters, I certainly would not. “Twilight, I’m sorry, but I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’ll be fine,” she insisted and patted the top of the wall. “Stand here so I can get a clear view.”

“I really don’t know…” I whined, but my whines did little to dissuade her.

She simply patted the top of the wall again, offering me an assured grin, and I clearly had no choice but to relent. If I didn’t, I risked upsetting her and that would be a very terrible crime.

I turned away from her and scrunched up my face, closing my eyes and reciting one of my teacher’s lessons. “A lady has no fears. A lady has no fears. A lady has no fears,” I whispered to myself over and over until I convinced myself I believed it.

I turned back towards Twilight and moved forwards, climbing onto the retaining wall and standing on it, making no attempts to hide my trepidation at the entire thing.

Twilight stepped back and summoned magic into her hand, once again casting the blindingly bright spell that left my shoes glowing like a furnace.

“All right,” she said, moving back and giving me space on the lake. “Jump.”

“But what if I fall into the water?!”

“You won’t.”

“But what if I do?!”

“You won’t, Rarity,” Twilight insisted and moved towards me. “I promise I will never let you fall.”

I crossed my arms. “You can’t promise me that!”

“Yes, I can.” She held out her hand towards me. “Trust me.”

It was admittedly surreal to see here there, asking me to place my hand and trust in hers. To think that not even an hour ago I dreamed of interlacing my fingers with her, and yet now I hesitated. I couldn’t really place the real reason behind my hesitation back then, though now that I’ve had so many years to dwell on it, well…

I think I knew that would be the point of no return.

In Twilight Sparkle’s hand lay my destiny entire, if and only if I was bold enough to grasp it.

It’s funny how I say that as if I had a choice; the reality is that, whether I knew it or not, when Twilight asked me to follow it was my destiny to never refuse.

“Twilight Sparkle,” I said, finally and blissfully taking her hand in mine. “Trusting you will be the death of me.”

I jumped forwards, though hardly with the grace and prowess Twilight had earlier displayed. No, I yelped like a terrified child and threw myself at Twilight, wrapping my arms around her neck and my legs around her hips while she held me, trying not to lose her balance.

“Did it work?!” I asked desperately. “Did it? It didn’t, did it?! I knew it!”

“Rarity,” Twilight stammered, doubtless struggling to support my weight, “we won’t know that until your feet actually touch the water!”

I whined into her neck, gripping onto her as hard as I could before slowly, very slowly, loosening my legs’ death grip on her hips and lowering them. I kept expecting to feel my feet sink into water, but they never did. I only felt them land firmly on what can only be described as wet ground.

“We-Well?” asked my beloved, trying to look down at my feet. “What happened? Did it work?”

I did not reply with words.

I carefully slid my arms off her neck until my hands were resting on her shoulders and I was now fully standing in front of her, her hands still gently holding my waist. There we stood, lost in each other’s eyes, soaking up the moment until we did what you’d expect of two young adults having just done the impossible.

No, we did not kiss—not for lack of wanting, mind you—but we did the second best thing one can do in such an occasion.

Giggle like absolute teenagers.

“We’re walking on water!” I exclaimed, jumping, running and doing exactly everything I’d earlier told her not to do. “Twilight! Look! We’re walking on water!”

I rushed to her and grabbed her hand, forcing her to run in circles with me.

“Ra-Rarity!” She laughed. “Calm down!”

Once I willed myself into obeying her, Twilight ran back to get what we’d left behind on the retaining wall.

“Here you go,” she said, handing me my bag and shawl, which I promptly tried to give back.

“Darling, keep this! Aren’t you still cold?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine. Well, no, I’m cold, but walking to the island will help me. Or maybe running will. Or…” She looked at me and gave me a challenging stare. “A race?”

I laughed dismissively.

“A race? Oh no, no. That is far too childish for me,” I said, flipping my hair. “Not to mention exhausting! And in this weather? I’ll freeze! And you’ll freeze too when you’re left all alone to eat my dust!”

Without giving her time to react, I sped off towards the islet, cackling like a banshee the entire way.

“Hey!”

The poor dear didn’t catch up with me in time, and thus I let out a decidedly unladylike victory cry when my feet touched solid land. I turned around and patiently waited for my non-date to catch up, the poor woman gasping for air when she arrived.

“How do you run so fast?” she asked between heavy breaths.

Too caught in the moment, I completely forgot to be discreet.

“Top shape is a necessity in my line of work, dear.”

Twilight grunted, supporting her hands on her bent knees. “Maybe I should consider taking up sewing, then,” she muttered, completely missing me slapping my hand against my mouth. When she’d managed to regain some of her strength back, she stood straight up and looked around. “Well, here we are.”

“So we are,” I repeated, giddily.

She looked up at the night sky and did the cutest nod.

“The sky's still clear, too.” She looked back down and scanned the islet briefly before striding past me and walking right towards the center of the place. Once she was there, she glanced up at the sky again before unceremoniously plopping down on the ground.

“Twilight!” I chastised.

“What?”

“You’re sitting on the ground! That’s filthy! Heaven knows what’s crawled on there!”

“I don’t care.”

I harrumphed. “Well, I do!”

As if we’d known each other for years, Twilight rolled her eyes. “Right…” She took off her cloak, spread it on the ground next to her, and then gave me an amused stare. “Will this work?”

I was tempted to remind her that cloak was sodden with dubious lake water, but eventually decided against it. Beggars shouldn’t be choosers, and I wasn’t going to start rejecting her little gestures.

Doing my best to ignore my dress getting wet, I walked over and sat down on the cloak, somehow managing not to grimace when my dress similarly dampened upon contact. That done, Twilight and I engaged in a very unsubtle act of ‘innocently’ scooching over until we were all but pressed together. She snapped her fingers and summoned back her wondrous little portable flame, warming us both.

That done, she lay down on the grass and I shortly followed on the cloak, again trying to be as close to her as possible without actually cuddling her. It was so hard to resist the urge, and it was harder still when our outstretched hands brushed against each other on the grass.

The stars looked mesmerizing above us, and yet they could not distract me from thinking of her. Soon enough we’d have to part ways, and I’d be forced to wait an entire week for Sweetie’s lesson just to see her again.

Or… maybe…

“Twilight?”

“Yes?”

“Might you be free next Wednesday evening?”

I felt her shift against me. “Wednesday evening? I… think I am? I’d have to check with Lady Celestia. Why?”

“Oh, no reason at all, really. It’s simply that I have Wednesday evening off from work, and I was wondering if perhaps you’d like to meet?”

She sat up. “Oh? Did Sweetie want to change her class?”

I was grateful the night hid my blush.

“...No, Twilight, not like that,” I said, sitting up as well with a pained smile. “I mean, meet up to do something together like today. Just the two of us.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “You mean as friends? I would love to!”

I would learn later that year that my poor beloved had immediately internally chastised herself for that choice of words.

But she’d said it, and not wanting to make her uncomfortable, I followed her lead.

“Er, yes,” I said. “As friends. And fabulous! Why don’t we sort out the details later tonight, then?”

When we lay down on the grass again, my enthusiasm had somewhat waned. After everything we’d been through, and all the signs I’d tried to throw her way, to see her label us like that had been… well, disappointing.

Then again, I knew I would take her in any way she let me, whether it be as a friend or more.

Considerably more aware of our personal boundaries, I tried to scooch away and give her space, but stopped when she surprised me by brushing her hand against mine in what I could tell was a premeditated gesture.

Just like earlier, I took the plunge.

“Twilight!” I gasped and took her freezing hand in mine. “Your hand is so cold!”

“Is it?” she asked, and made no attempt to take it back.

“It is!” I exclaimed, and interlaced our fingers together. “I’ll just have to keep it warm with mine, won’t I?”

She laughed. “All right then,” she said, letting our hands perfectly intertwine before closing the distance between us and fulfilling my silly childhood wish. “I studied a lot of astronomy back home in the north. Would you like to know some things that I learned?”

“Why, Twilight,” I said. “I’d like nothing more.”

If you believe in the multiverse theory, there's a universe out there where I can write AND draw, and this chapter would have come accompanied with a painting of Twilight and Rarity holding hands and running on the water under a starlit sky, BUT SINCE WE'RE NOT IN THAT UNIVERSE YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO IMAGINE IT.

This RIDICULOUSLY LONG chapter brought to you by my apparently undying love for my ship, as well as me listening to covers of Tangled's "I See The Light" for hours on repeat.

As always, thanks for reading, and if you see any typos, please let me know (preferably via PM).

People will always think they know what and who you are.

No matter what one does, what one says, what one is, they will slam a gavel in their mind and declare their verdict, weighing you down with the handcuffs they’ve now so rudely locked on your wrists.

This man is a no-good deadbeat.

This woman is a snob.

This boy can do no wrong.

This girl’s a whore.

It can’t be helped, I suppose. There are scholars out there who I’m sure can explain this a thousand times better than I could dream of, but we label things to understand them, to know how they fit in the universe.

Even this story fell victim to that, no doubt.

From the very moment I decided to speak about my life, assumptions were made. This is the story about a prostitute. This is a story about a mage arriving in a foreign town. This is the story of two women who met at a train station.

None of these assumptions are right, and none of these assumptions are wrong, either.

They just are.

I think that’s what drew me to Twilight Sparkle, the fact that she is never satisfied with first impressions, that she tries to see beyond what so many others stop at.

The fact that she knew nothing about me. For the first time in what felt forever, I’d found an interesting person in this miserable city that had no idea who I was.

In her eyes, I could be whatever I wanted to be.

One of my favorite quotes in this dreary world comes from a terribly sappy romance novel I read as a child.

No one cares who I really am so I thought of being God.

Twilight Sparkle cared about who I really was, so I thought of being someone far grander than the God in the sky.

Myself.

honestly in this day and age managing to be yourself is a total power move

A small vignette based on the below gorgeous artwork from one of my dearest friends in this whole wide world with whom I talk about incredibly deep subjects such as whether IQ really matters or not, about whether people should be held accountable for the messages they portray, and whether Siri's jokes are actually good or not

Twilight Sparkle once told me, I don’t remember when or where, that every essay she did went through at least four drafts.

I remember laughing at that. Four drafts? What effort! I only ever go through one or two designs for my dresses; maybe three if I’m feeling particularly perfectionist.

Well.

I understand her now as I sit here after having gone through more versions of this tale than I would like to admit. Isn’t it ever so frustrating when things don’t work out the first time around? When a dress doesn’t look as fabulous as you’d wish; when a student doesn’t learn what you wanted her to learn; when a sister cares little for what others think; when a dinner does not go exactly as planned.

If things worked out perfectly at first, life would be so much easier.

I would also have no story to tell, and this I promise is a story worth telling.

A story that begins with two very separate events.

There is a tradition in Canterlot City’s grandest brothel where once a month all the good little girls and good little boys of the establishment stride into the common lounge and drink, drink, drink. We drink until stress has washed away, until indiscretion joins us all, and until someone﹘usually me﹘asks the question that we will discuss throughout the night.

One such time, a lovely lady by the name of Sweet Liquor took a swig of whatever she was drinking and posed a question to the room.

“Why?”

We looked at her, our own unasked question hanging in the air.

Why what?

“Why did a wealthy heiress like Lady Luna open a brothel?”

Four theories were proposed that night.

The first, laid out by my darling Big Mac - a man of few words - proposed that it was none of our ‘darn’ business. We collectively decided that he was being a party-pooper.

The second, laid out by Ripple Seas, proposed that it was rebellion against her deceased parents who’d tried to raise her to be as uptight as they themselves had been.

The third, drunkenly slurred by Lily Petal, proposed that Lady Luna was actually the adopted child of a deceased prostitute; a dark secret Lady Luna had discovered when she was sixteen and decided to honor by using her inheritance to protect those like her dead mother.

I gave out the last proposal while lying on my chaise longue and swishing wine in my glass in a way I thought made me look mysterious.

“I bet she fell in love with one of us,” I said, ever the romantic, months before I even met Twilight Sparkle. “She fell in love, her parents forbade it, and when she tried to elope with her beloved Lady Luna discovered her lover had run away. So she opened the brothel in hopes that she might one day return.”

They called me dramatic. They called me a hopeless romantic who’d read one too many tragic romances. And we never did settle on which theory was right.

They would never know, of course, but I would.

“You don’t understand,” I sobbed as I lay on my bed, gripping a pillowcase tightly, tightly, tightly because I had been a fool. A fool who’d fallen into her own trap and had been left with a shredded heart. “You can’t possibly understand,” I said to one of the few people that actually could.

She loomed over me, the Lady of the Night, and surprised me when she sat down at the edge of my bed, her hands folded over her lap as she simply let me cry.

“Why?” I asked her suddenly, desperate for someone to blame and finding no one but the owner of the Sapphire Carousel herself. Lady Celestia had blamed her so many times. Why shouldn’t I? “Why did you open a brothel? Why you, of all people? Why?”

“I made a promise,” she said, “to a dear old friend.”

The second event began with my favorite person in this dreary awful world.

Twilight Sparkle didn’t have many friends, and as much as I found that to be a little sad, she was perfectly content with it.

She had her books, she had her teacher, she had a loose-lipped butler, she had a student, and she had a stunningly beautiful friend who tripped over herself trying to seduce her.

Allegedly tripped over herself, mind you. This is yet to be a verified fact, but it’s highly unlikely to be true.

The autumn leaves crackled in protest when Twilight stepped on them, her eyes glued to the lines in a book on magical thermodynamics. She did not see the children running past her, did not see the policeman dragging a frail vagrant away, did not see much of anything unless it interested her.

I think, ultimately, this is why it took her so long to discover my secret.

Someone as frighteningly smart as she was could be so very blind to what did not personally interest her.

It is also why she so rudely slammed into someone, her book falling to the ground and her self following shortly after, two sets of high-pitched yelps ringing in the air.

“O-Oh my! Are you all right?!”

Dazed and distracted, my beloved wanted to tell the lovely lady that she was anything but all right. The pavement was not forgiving with scholars who did not exercise too much, but her warm bulky outfit had kindly taken the brunt of the fall.

When she opened her eyes, sitting up on the ground, she saw an awkward young thing towering over her, her long pink hair tied up in a ponytail.

“I…” Twilight looked around and her expression fell at the sight of her book sprawled on the ground, the front page torn clean off. “Ah…”

“Oh no! Your book!” exclaimed the poor girl, stepping back and clutching her handbag to her chest as though she wanted to disappear behind it. “I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t be sorry,” Twilight replied, her words as heavy as her heart. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

While Twilight painfully got to her feet, the woman let go of her bag and bent down to pick up the book and the page. She then placed the latter back where it belonged and winced when it pitifully slipped out again.

“Oh! One second,” she blurted out, flailing her arm around and trying to catch the page. She smiled victoriously when she caught it, put it back in its place and then finally turned to Twilight, offering the book. “Here you are.”

“Thank you,” Twilight replied, taking the book back and then…

Well, standing there quite unsure of what to do, and the mysterious young woman did the same. They just stood there for about ten seconds or so, blinking at each other as you do when you’re either a socially-inept bookworm and/or a terribly shy recluse.

I say both those things lovingly, I promise.

“Right,” said Twilight, re-adjusting her grip on her book.

“Yes,” said the woman, fiddling with her hair.

Eventually, Twilight remembered she had manners and awkwardly introduced herself as one should do with a pretty girl one has quite literally hit on.

“I'm Twilight Sparkle,” she said and offered a smile. “I’m sorry for bumping into you.”

The woman blinked at her and eventually returned the smile. “I’m Fluttershy,” she said. “It’s nice to, uh…” She giggled and it was adorable, I assure you. “‘Bump’ into you.”

A laugh was shared between them, and whatever awkwardness they’d felt washed away.

Twilight looked around and noticed they were standing in front of a large half-open silver gate, the vines covering it almost hiding away the large garden and even larger mansion Twilight caught a glimpse of.

“Is this where you live?” she asked innocently, something about it striking her as oddly familiar.

“Oh, yes,” said Fluttershy, “with my parents.”

Twilight nodded absent-mindedly, her mind already lost in trying to remember why exactly this strange mansion seemed familiar. She thought, and thought, until finally, it hit her.

“Wait,” she said, and whipping her head around, what did she see on the other side of the street but Lady Celestia’s beautiful towering estate and the bedroom window from which Twilight had seen this other mansion countless times. “This is your house?!”

Fluttershy nodded, a little confused by Twilight’s surprise. “Yes,” she said. “Do you live near here?”

“Yes, actually,” said my beloved and gestured to the Lady’s mansion. “Over there.”

And now it was Fluttershy’s turn to be shocked.

“You live there?” she asked, gripping her handbag and Twilight noticed her stepping back. “With Lady Celestia?”

“Yes,” Twilight said, and she almost wanted to ask if there was something wrong with the fact. “I’m her student. I’ve been living here for a while now.”

“Oh,” said Fluttershy, her nose crinkling and her voice falling to a whisper.

Oh.

Please bear in mind she did not mean ill, but she could not help it. She couldn’t help what she knew, who she knew, and the fact that she, like many others, had a reason to react strangely upon meeting Lady Celestia’s personal protégée.

She couldn’t help that she now saw Twilight in a much less favorable light, which was no fault of my beloved.

She didn’t know, after all, that as much as she was Celestia’s new student, to people looking in from the outside she also risked looking like something else.

A replacement.

But more on that later, or, actually, more on that now because Twilight Sparkle did not quite understand why this lovely girl suddenly seemed obviously discomforted by her presence. She did not understand why Fluttershy smiled painfully and quickly stammered that it was so nice to meet her before offering an excuse and running back into her house, the gates closing behind her.

Twilight, my poor darling beloved, stayed there for about a minute, thinking. Had she said something wrong? She mentally reviewed her conversation and found nothing indicated that a faux pas had been made.

Defeated, she decided she’d simply review the interaction with me the next time we were together. A second pair of eyes always helped, she thought, especially when it was the eyes of a lovely girl such as myself.

She arrived to the mansion several minutes later and wandered into the kitchens where she could usually find dear Flint doing something or other to ease his insatiable appetite.

“Something wrong, child?” he asked as he chopped vegetables, his previous formalities having dropped away after weeks of Twilight living in the mansion.

“No,” Twilight said at first, sitting on a bench and levitating an apple over. “I did meet the neighbors, though.”

“The neighbors?” he asked, carelessly dumping his uneven carrots into a bowl before moving on to the tomatoes. “Which ones?”

“The ones from the house in front of us,” she elaborated. “I met their daughter? Fluttershy.”

Flint sighed wistfully. “Ah, Miss Fluttershy. Hard to find a kinder girl,” he said, and Twilight was unsure whether she agreed.

“You know her?”

“I do,” he said absentmindedly and admittedly carelessly, having apparently forgotten who he was addressing. “She used to come here to play all the time with the cat and the young miss.”

This caught Twilight’s attention.

“The young miss? What young miss? You mean like a child?” she asked at once, for my dear beloved had not forgotten the mystery of Lady Celestia’s manor, and what a winning smile she sported when Flint yelped.

“Ah fiddlesticks,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I knew it!” gasped Twilight with wholly inappropriate delight. “There was a child living here!”

“Hah!” he said dropping any pretense of keeping secrets. “I wouldn’t call her a child no more.” He put down the knife and before Twilight could bombard him with questions, he intercepted her. “Yes. There was a girl living here before as the Missus’ protégée.” He then picked up his knife again and pointed it at Twilight. “And that’s all you’re hearing on the matter or saying on the matter. That’s private.”

“But Flint!” protested Twilight.

How could he go silent now, and especially after giving her that tidbit of information? Lady Celestia had a protégée before her? Where was she? Who was she? And, more importantly, why did no one ever mention her?

“Are we having a secret house meeting?” asked the Lady of the house, stepping into the kitchen quite unannounced.

Flint immediately looked at Twilight, his narrowed eyes conveying the age-old saying of snitches get stitches, which was all the more threatening considering he was holding a sharp knife in his chubby little hand.

Unfortunately for him, Twilight loved information more than she feared sharp objects.

“Lady Celestia,” said Twilight brightly, ignoring the poor servant’s murderous expression. “I met the daughter of our neighbors today! A girl called Fluttershy.”

“Did you?” asked the Lady, stepping further into the kitchen and levitating Twilight’s apple straight out her hand. She took a bite, which I’m sure she thought made her look cheeky, and continued to speak. “She’s a very nice girl.”

“Yes,” Twilight said, and then offered Flint an apologetic look before adding quite innocently, “Apparently she used to play with a girl who lived here? Is that true?”

Crunch.

Lady Celestia wasn’t one to bit into apples in such an unladylike way, but considering the question, well…

One, two, three seconds passed in which the Lady swallowed the metaphorical and physical lump in her throat, and after a quick glance at the shrugging manservant, she smiled the smile she always had plastered on her face.

“Yes, it is, Twilight,” she said quite casually. “I used to have a student living with me here, but she moved out several years ago to—” She faltered. She faltered, and her nose crinkled in that way it does when trying to put in pleasant terms something decidedly unpleasant. “Pursue a career.”

“Oh,” said Twilight, her shoulder slumping,

Well! Well, that certainly wasn’t as exciting as she’d expected, even though she wasn’t sure what she expected in the first place. Why would pursuing a career make someone seem so thoroughly taboo? Did the Lady miss her former protégée, perhaps? A sting of jealousy flashed through Twilight’s heart.

Well then.

“You know, Flint, we haven’t had Summer Breeze and her daughter over for dinner in a while, have we?” the Lady asked, eager as always to move the topic away from improper things. “Why don’t we have them over for dinner on Wednesday?” She turned to Twilight. “What do you think? It might be good to get to know Fluttershy better. Books can’t be your only friends, Twilight.”

“I-I have friends!” Twilight hotly protested, even if by friends she meant me and maybe my sister.

The Lady smiled. “Having one more wouldn’t hurt.”

Two separate events with two separate people.

One, the wealthy owner of the city’s most infamous cabaret and brothel; the other, the pleasant and proper girl next door.

Two events that would be brought together in a simple dinner that I, personally, would kill to have witnessed.

The next Wednesday afternoon, Twilight found herself in her room, engaged in her very favorite activity until three knocks at the door pulled her away from her book.

“Child!” Flint called from beyond the door, practiced aggravation lacing his tone. “Are you ready?!”

Putting her book down, my beloved got up and made her way towards the door, opening it and revealing to him that she was all dressed up and ready to go.

“Oh!” he said, his tone softening. “You are! Look at that.”

“I’m always ready on time,” Twilight pointed out and raised an eyebrow. “Why are you always surprised that I am?”

He grumbled. “Old habits.”

Twilight grinned. “You mean the girl who used to live here?”

“Twilight,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“Sorry,” she said, even if she wasn’t, and even if she wished this infamous former protégée wasn’t such a secret. She offered a polite smile. “How can I help?”

He stepped to the side and gestured her out. “You can help by distracting someone for me!”

“Distracting someone?” she asked, too curious to protest the fact that she was Flint’s personal lackey more often than not. “Who? The neighbors? Aren’t they a little early?”

“It’s not the neighbors,” he said. “It’s the Lady’s sister.”

Twilight’s heart skipped a beat.

“Lady Luna? She’s here?” she asked, the poor dear unable to withhold her enthusiasm. She’d never met her before, you see, and anyone related to Lady Celestia was an endless source of intrigue for her. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he said and wagged a finger at her as though she were a child. “Don’t look so excited, either! It’s a right mess, it is!”

“What? Why?” Her eyes narrowed on the poor butler. “What’s going on, Flint?”

Flint gave her a hard stare and made a choice.

“Family issues. The Lady doesn’t approve of her sister’s business decisions,” he said gruffly. “Anyway, it’s none of your concern.” He waved her off towards the hallway. “Now, off you go!”

My beloved rushed away but stopped when he called out to her.

“Wait, wait!” he exclaimed, and when she turned to him, his chubby hands balled into fists.

She faltered. “...Yes?”

One, two, three seconds passed until he unclenched his hands. “No, nevermind, nevermind. You’ll be fine,” he said, much more to himself than to her. “Off you go! She’s in the library!”

Though she wanted to inquire about his odd behavior, her chance to do so washed away when he turned around and ambled off, leaving her with no other choice but to do the same.

When Twilight reached the library a minute later, she peeked in and found my dearest employer looking through a book. Even from the back, Twilight found Lady Luna just as imposing as Lady Celestia herself. Tall, tanned (God knows how in this cloudy city), and wearing a black cloak that looked straight out of a dark and broody novel, Lady Luna looked very out-of-place in that bright, white mansion.

“Er, hello?” said my beloved and felt the room’s temperature drop when Lady Luna’s book promptly closed with a snap.

Without a word to Twilight, she put the book back in its place and only then did she turn around to stare at the awkwardly smiling girl. An eternity seemed to pass, Twilight smiling and Luna staring, until Twilight felt more than uncomfortable and cleared her throat.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she continued, stepping further into the room. “I’m—”

“Twilight Sparkle,” Lady Luna cut her off. “Daughter of Twilight Velvet and Night Light.”

“Er, yes!” exclaimed Twilight, feeling encouraged by the fact Lady Luna knew her. “It’s very nice to meet you. Lady Celestia has told me much about you.”

“Oh?” asked the Lady, and for the first time, she smiled. “Has she?”

Twilight returned the smile. “Yes, she—”

“Yes, she has!” a voice interrupted, shortly followed by Lady Celestia herself walking into the room, more than a little short of breath.

“Lady Celestia,” exclaimed Twilight, surprised to see her mentor in such a state. Was she that excited to see Lady Luna? “Is everything all right?”

“Of course!” the Lady exclaimed, a smile setting on her lovely face. “I simply had to rush here once I heard Luna was here!” She set her eyes on Luna. “Sister, I’m delighted to see you!”

My Lady was direct.

“That would be a first, dear Sister.”

Lady Celestia laughed, stepping towards Twilight and putting a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. “Oh Luna, you and your strange sense of humor.”

“As always, dear sister, you and I have most different definitions of humor,” replied my Lady. Her eyes then went back to Twilight, who looked prim and proper in her formal attire, and she looked back to Celestia who was in a fetching gown herself. “Are you going out for the evening?”

Lady Celestia’s smile thinned and Twilight was surprised to feel Celestia’s grip on her shoulder tighten. “We’re expecting guests for dinner any minute now,” the Lady explained. “Your visit is a bit untimely, unfortunately.”

“That would not be a first,” she said. “I was hoping to discuss the incident with the Mayor with you, but I can return tomorrow if that would be more convenient.”

The Lady loosened her death grip on poor Twilight’s shoulder.

“Yes, it would!” she said at once, and now her smile was almost genuine. “Thank you for understanding.”

My Lady nodded. “Of course,” she said and then added with all the innocence in the world, “Who are you expecting?”

Twilight nearly yelped when fingers dug into her.

“Breeze and her daughter,” said the Lady in a measured tone, and my Lady’s smile turned absolutely predatory.

“Breeze? Summer Breeze?” she asked. “I was planning on heading home, but I would be most delighted to join you all for dinner if you would allow it, Tia.”

“Some other time might be best, Lulu,” said the Lady with a glacial smile. “Now, it is getting late, and—”

The clearing of a throat interrupted her, and all three women turned around to find Flint in the hallway.

“My Lady,” he said, looking pained. “Madame Breeze and her daughter are here.”

“Should I take the back door then?” Luna asked next, smiling when her sister shot her a glare.

“For heaven’s sake, Luna,” she scolded, and she was not very subtle when she looked at Twilight. “Can you stop acting like a child?” Without giving Lady Luna time to reply, she let go of Twilight and ushered her out. “Twilight, go with Flint and greet our guests. We’ll be right down.”

Grateful to get out of whatever was happening between the two sisters, Twilight nodded and followed Flint away from the library.

“You weren’t lying about family issues,” Twilight said as they walked. “Is the Lady really that upset over Lady Luna having a theatre?”

“A theatre?” Flint asked. “Who told you she has a theatre?”

Twilight blinked. “...Lady Celestia?” she said as though it were obvious. “She told me she has a theatre in the Lunar District.” She narrowed her eyes. “Doesn’t she?”

“W-what? Yes, she does!” he blurted out, which wasn’t a lie per se. “Now, hurry it up!” He opened the door to the foyer and gestured Twilight in. “In you go!”

And, despite her lingering apprehension at Fluttershy’s earlier odd behaviour, in she went to meet Fluttershy and her mother, Summer Breeze .

The first thing Twilight noticed when she stepped into the foyer was how nice Madame Breeze seemed. How nice in her ravishing white gown, how nice with her beautifully combed golden locks, how nice with her nice little smile and her nice little manicure and her nice little everything.

The second thing she noticed was Fluttershy, who had seemingly reverted back to her awkward but polite disposition. A smile graced her lips when Twilight stepped in, and she even went as far as timidly waving.

“Why, hello!” said Madame Breeze, moving forward. “You must be Twilight!”

“Hello,” Twilight greeted at once, walking towards the two women and extending her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Twilight, the pleasure is mine!” said Breeze and then gestured to her daughter. “And you’ve met my daughter already, haven’t you? Say hello, dear.”

“Hello,” said Fluttershy, stepping forwards and extending her hand with more warmth than Twilight had anticipated. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Summer! Fluttershy! You’re here!”

Lady Celestia’s voice filled the room, and Twilight turned around to find the Lady stepping into the room looking relaxed and carefree and totally unlike how she had been not even five minutes ago.

A grinning Lady Luna stepped in not even a second later, and though Twilight was too socially unaware to notice such an inane detail, Madame Breeze’s hand immediately reached out to grip her daughter’s arm.

“Ladies,” she said after a split-second recovery, her perfectly nice smile displayed for all to see. “How lovely it is to see you both!”

“I’m sure,” replied Lady Luna before quickly being drowned out by a very enthusiastic Lady Celestia.

“I’m so glad you could make it! It’s been far too long.” She joined Twilight and, as she had before, put her hand on my beloved’s shoulder and looked at Fluttershy. “Especially you, Fluttershy. And, before you ask about Opalescence…” She giggled when Fluttershy denied that she’d intended on doing that. “I’m afraid that my cat now lives with Luna.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” said Fluttershy, leaving Twilight with the distinct impression she was missing some sort of vital context.

“I don’t mean to hurry things along, but,” continued the Lady, gesturing Twilight and the two guests towards the general direction of the dining room, “why don’t you three head to the dining room while I see my sister off?”

“Oh?” asked Madame Breeze in her high-pitched dulcet tones, fluttering her eyelashes at Luna. “You’re not staying for dinner?”

Again, Twilight Sparkle felt her teacher’s nails dig ever so slightly into her shoulder, relaxing only when Luna spoke.

“No,” she said, and then ignored Celestia’s burning stare as she continued. “It would be most improper for me to attend a dinner uninvited, and I know you value the most proper things, Summer.”

“Oh, I do,” replied Madame Breeze, “but you’ve always been an odd duck ever since we were children, haven’t you, Lulu?”

“Twilight,” Celestia cut off, her tone much less enthusiastic. “Why don’t you and Fluttershy go ahead?”

“No, no!” exclaimed Madame Breeze. “Let’s all go! And,” she said, and I am sure she knew very well what she was doing when she did so, “if Luna is able, I would love for her to stay.”

“I really don’t think she can,” Celestia cut her off with a strangled laugh. “I can’t remember the last time Luna ever agreed to stay when I invited her for a last-minute dinner!”

“Then tonight will be a new first, dear sister,” said my Lady with a wide smile. “After you, please.”

What a beautiful Wednesday evening in the Celestial household! A lady of the day drank wine to tolerate her sister, a dame of the breeze spread her bread with jam and her words with insinuations, a lady of the night drank a vodka as transparent as her intentions, an awkward daughter wished she was as invisible as the minuscule portions of food on her plate, and a student…

A student tried her best to keep a sunny disposition and dispensed the appropriate remark for when you’ve really run out of conversation.

“The food is really good,” she said, poking at her cold, soggy and untouched meatloaf.

“Too good to eat?” asked Luna, and my poor beloved couldn’t help a blush.

“Well, I think it’s delicious, Celestia,” said Madame Breeze at once, and then turned to her daughter. “Fluttershy loves it as well, don’t you, dear?”

Fluttershy coughed. “Oh, yes.”

The Lady took a discreet but long, long sip of wine.

“And how are your studies going, Fluttershy?” she asked promptly, putting poor Fluttershy on the spot if only because no one at that table should have reason to be catty over such a darling girl.

“Oh, well, I—”

“They’re going wonderfully!” cut off her mother as she always did. “She’s the top of her class, you know?”

“What do you study exactly?” Twilight asked, excited to have something interesting to discuss. Did she study magic? Dancing? She seemed like a dancer. Or maybe—

“Business management,” she replied, which pleased her mother.

“Business management?” Twilight asked, surprised. She hadn’t really pegged Fluttershy as a businesswoman.

Lady Luna hadn’t either.

“What kind of businesses are you interested in?” she asked, and Madame Breeze froze up so noticeably that Luna glanced at her and smiled politely. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on hiring anyone today.”

“Luna,” hissed Lady Celestia.

“What business did you say you were interested in?” Twilight asked loudly.

“Animal sanctuaries,” said Fluttershy after a timid glance at her mother, whom was not pleased by her answer but was polite enough to not voice her dissatisfaction in front of individuals who clearly had worse aspirations in life.

“Oh! How interesting. I’ve noticed there’s a lot of wild animals in this neighborhood.”

“What about you, Twilight?” asked Madame Breeze, and suddenly every eye was set on my beloved. She felt as though she was being examined, and make no mistake, this was the case. “How are your magic lessons going?”

Twilight faltered, embarrassed to answer that question in front of her teacher.

“Twilight’s an extraordinary student,” the Lady replied in her stead, and Twilight let out a breath of relief.

“I don’t doubt it,” replied Lady Breeze and then displayed her inability to resist stoking the flames. “And such a proper girl, too,” she said as she winked at the Lady. “It would seem that, in this case, second time’s the charm, hm?”

It always is very entertaining when a single sentence evokes such different reactions.

From Twilight, confusion.

From Lady Celestia, a stiff smile.

From Lady Luna, a glacial stare.

And from Fluttershy, my blessed brave girl…

Like nails dragging on a blackboard, Fluttershy’s chair pulled back and the gangly woman stood up, pale as the white mansion itself.

“Excuse me, Lady Celestia,” she said, hands trembling as she grabbed her plate. “May I serve myself more?”

“Fluttershy, sit down! Where are your manners?!” scolded Madame Breeze. “Ring the be—”

“Of course, Fluttershy,” Lady Celestia interrupted, and she gestured to the kitchen. “Serve yourself as much as you want.”

“Thank you,” Fluttershy said quietly before turning around, marching off and disappearing into the hallway.

“Twilight,” Celestia said next, a soft but commanding tone to her voice. “Why don’t you go with her and make sure she doesn’t get lost?” she asked on behalf of a girl who’d played in that mansion dozens of times before.

“Yes, teacher,” Twilight said, getting up and doing as told, marching off after Fluttershy, into the hallway and…

And then, waiting about one or two seconds before hiding in the hallway and listening in to a conversation she could not resist. They were, after all, talking about the other girl, weren’t they? Celestia’s first attempt, no?

Lady Luna wasted no time.

“Second time’s the charm?”

Madame Breeze rolled her eyes so far, she probably saw the back of her head.

“Oh, get off your high horse, will you? It was just a comment.” She took her glass of wine and swished it around. “I hope you realize no one is buying into your little goody-two shoes act.”

“Stop,” Celestia said. “If you two are incapable of having a civil conver—”

“Civil conversation?” asked Luna, her eyes boring into Madame Breeze. “That would require having someone civilized to converse with.”

The Madame laughed. “Oh, Luna! How rich coming from you! Is that what you tell yourself you are when men throw bit bills at your employees, treating them like leashed show dogs while drool drips out their mouths? Spare me, please.”

Twilight’s eyes grew wide.

Did… Did Luna run some sort of… gentlemen’s club?

“The people working for me are entertainers, not show dogs,” Luna snapped.

“Is that what you call them?”

“And even if they did engage in what you seem to think they do, which they don’t,” Luna continued, “I would at least sleep well knowing that any leash my employees wear is consensual, unlike the one you tug your daughter around with!”

“Luna!” Celestia thundered, and silence reigned afterwards. “Really! Both of you stop!”

After a silence, it was Madame Breeze who spoke first.

“It is an improper job,” she said, “and whether you agree or not, it is a shame that child threw her entire future away to pursue it.”

“It is a way of making a living,” Luna replied. “You considering it improper does not make it so.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Luna. I never said it wasn’t a way of making a living,” Madame Breeze replied. “Regardless of what I think of you, no one here disagrees on the fact that you’re doing a service to the community. One shudders to think the terrible lives those poor dears had that led them to—”

“A bold assumption of you, isn’t it?” Luna said and then crossed her arms. “Do you go to your gardener and ask if he’s had a fraught life?”

The Madame, again, rolled her eyes.

“That’s not the same, and you know it.”

“How is it not?”

“It’s just not,” said Madame Breeze with the finality of someone who did not intend on discussing the matter further. But she did, because she is who she is and while that was terrible for Celestia’s hopes of salvaging her dinner it is splendid for my story-telling. “On the other hand, you can’t really blame them. It’s easy money.”

“Easy money,” Luna said simply.

Easy money! My, my, my.

“I’m sorry to say it, but it’s true,” Madame Breeze said stiffly, and if she wore glasses I’m sure she’d have pushed them up her nose and pointed it up. “It is easy money, and something you don’t need skill for. Doing that for a living is hardly challenging.”

Silence filled the room. The most wonderful silence as my dearest Lady sat back in her chair, regarding this woman with a whole new level of understanding.

“Hardly challenging,” she repeated, tasting the words in her mouth. I certainly am. She tasted and tasted and tasted them until finally she sat up straight and spoke up. “If that’s what you think, Summer Breeze, then I must ask you to tell your husband he has my most sincere condolences.”

Twilight didn’t know what came first: Celestia thundering Luna’s name, Madame Breeze letting out an absolutely scandalized gasp, or her own hurried footsteps as she told herself perhaps she really ought to go check up on Fluttershy now.

She rushed into the kitchen, expecting to find Flint and Fluttershy entrenched in deep conversation. When approaching, she’d heard them talking, but the moment she set foot in the kitchen, both fell into absolute silence, staring at her as though she were a ghost.

“What?” she asked at once, her defenses shooting up as if she’d been caught eavesdropping. “What’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing!” Fluttershy blurted out, jumping up from the chair she’d been sitting at. She bowed her head at Flint and grabbed her empty plate. “Thank you for the food, Flint.”

Twilight watched her leave the kitchen and disappear into the hallway, only for her to come back in after having realized the aforementioned lack of food.

“Oh. Uhm. Could I have more food, please?” she asked, averting Twilight’s intense stare.

What was going on?, wondered my beloved. What was going on in this household where everyone seemed to have secrets? Why, it felt like she was the only one who didn’t have a single thing to hide!

She watched as Flint served Fluttershy a large second helping, and when Fluttershy was about to leave the premises again, the kitchen door swung open and Twilight paled at the sight of a very sombre Lady Luna looking straight at her.

Oh lord, she thought. This is it.

“Twilight Sparkle,” said the Lady, taking a step forward.

“Lady Luna?” squeaked Twilight, taking a step back and then forcing herself to clear her throat and repeat her question in an altogether less terrified sounding voice. “Lady Luna. Is something wrong?”

“I am taking my leave now,” said the Lady and extended her hand, the sudden smile on her lips practically bringing Twilight’s soul back from the pits of hell. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“T-the pleasure was mine, Lady Luna,” Twilight said, feeling rather awful now for having so blatantly intruded on the Lady’s privacy.

Twilight dealt with, Lady Luna turned her attention towards Fluttershy, and though the latter cowered under the woman’s gaze, my Lady’s expression softened considerably.

“Fluttershy, it was most pleasing to see you again,” she said. “I know the owner of the Heart District public zoo has been looking for an assistant during the summer. It is not a job that pays much, but if you are interested, I can put in a good word for you.”

For the first time since she’d met her, Twilight saw Fluttershy’s eyes shine.

“Really? Oh, thank you, Lady Luna!”

The Lady smiled. “It is my pleasure.”

And with that, she was gone.

Gone, gone, gone and Fluttershy soon followed, leaving Twilight Sparkle alone with her thoughts and a butler who loved to gossip a bit too much.

“Well?” he asked. “Are you going back to dinner?”

Twilight balled her hands into fists, her heart telling her to march back to her teacher and their guests, but her mind… her insatiable curiosity that would one day be the end of her…

It demanded answers.

“Flint, does… does Lady Luna own some sort of gentleman’s club?”

Flint furrowed his brow. “Twilight,” he said, his voice bringing back the authority of someone who’d once been in charge of a staff of fifty. “I have half a mind to tell the Lady you’ve been poking your nose in places it does not belong, and I will if this goes on.”

“N-No!” Twilight exclaimed, cheeks burning. “No, please! I’m sorry! I just—”

“Then go back to dinner,” he interrupted curtly.

Chastized and ashamed, my beloved nodded her head and turned around to leave, swearing to herself that she would let the matter rest for once and for all.

“Wait.”

Wait? Dear, dear, dear.

She turned around and saw Flint staring down at the table, both palms firmly pressed against it.

He looked up at her, gave her a hard stare and made a choice.

“Close the door,” he ordered, and when she did as commanded, he took back his hands and rolled up his sleeve. “I’d rather you find out from me than someone else. Listen to me well, Twilight, I will tell you what I want, and after I have, if I catch you asking about this again, I will report you to Lady Celestia. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she replied.

He sighed.

“Lady Luna has many prestigious businesses across the city,” he said. “One of the… less prestigious ones is the Sapphire Carousel in the Lunar District.”

“The gentlemen’s club?”

“No,” he replied. “A cabaret.” He paused. “A cabaret and a brothel.”

Twilight’s mouth fell open. “A brothel? Lady Luna owns a brothel? Lady Luna? I… Uhm. Right.”

Right! Because really what else could she say? Lady Luna, who was prestigious and polite and well-brought up, owning a brothel? It was so strange, wasn’t it? So… disjointed. It was almost jarring to think about, in truth.

It’s a job like any other, Luna had said.

“Yes,” Flint continued. “A brothel.”

“But… But I don’t understand,” she said when she recovered. “What does this have to do with Lady Celestia’s former student?”

Flint’s eyes widened. “How did you know tha—” He startled her when he banged his hand against the table. “Lord’s sake, child! Where are you getting your information?!” he scolded, and then shook his head. “Maybe it’s better I don’t know.” He took a deep breath and looked at her again, eyes narrowing. “Not a word, Twilight. Not a word.”

“I-I’m sorry,” she blurted out, considerably more ashamed of her curiosity. “You don’t have to te—”

“She wasn’t a student, for starters,” he said. “Not a magic student, at least. Girl wasn’t talented enough, but… but she was smart and beautiful at that. Not a soul in this neighborhood that didn’t stop and stare when she walked by.” He moved towards the stove and stirred whatever was inside his pot. “Lady Celestia had big plans for that girl, but one day she followed Lady Luna to work and… Well, let’s just say she found better ways to use her looks.”

“Oh,” Twilight said.

Now she understood why this former student was such a mystery; why no one dared mention her. To go from being the personal student of the prestigious Lady Celestia to… to that? It boggled Twilight’s mind as much as it made her feel better.

She couldn’t say she was jealous any longer.

“Does she still work there?” Twilight asked. “What’s her name?”

“Enough,” Flint said with finality. “This city only seems big, and the fewer details you know, the better. Now, off to dinner! Go! And, Twilight…”

He gave her a pointed stare.

“No more questions. No more researching. No more anything, am I understood?”

“Yes,” said Twilight, nodding her head. “No more questions.”

“So, let me be sure I understand. You swore to Flint you wouldn’t indulge in this ‘huge secret’ anymore, and the first thing you do upon seeing me is want to tell me everything about it? Why, Twilight Sparkle!” I said with a laugh, leaning against the tree trunk and covering up with my shawl, my eyes drifting up towards the twinkling night sky. “And you call me a gossip!”

“It’s not the same!” Twilight protested, and when I offered a pointed stare, she amended. “Well. All right. It is the same, but—! But I’m only telling you because you’re my friend and you won’t tell anyone.”

I giggled. “I won’t lie and say your trust in me doesn’t delight me, even if it is terribly misplaced, darling.”

She frowned at me. “Rarity…”

“All right, all right,” I relented. I sat up straight and regaled her with my full attention. “Do tell, Miss Sparkle, what is this big secret you’ve uncovered?”

“Well,” Twilight said, her voice lowering to a whisper, “apparently… apparently Lady Celestia’s sister owns a brothel.”

I fell silent. I fell absolutely, deathly silent and Twilight Sparkle was pleased by having found someone who was just as shocked as she’d been.

Or, she was pleased until I gave her a long hard look and made a choice.

I started to laugh.

“Wha—? Rarity? Why are you laughing?” she asked, thrown off.

“Twilight, darling, that’s your secret?” I asked her, and the poor dear stared at me in disbelief. What? “That isn’t a secret at all!”

“What? Yes, it is!” she protested.

“No, it’s not, Twilight,” I teased. “Dearest, everyone knows that! Why, everyone living in the Lunar District knows it, at the very least.” I giggled again. “The Sapphire Carousel being a big secret. How amusing.”

“What?! But—! But Flint didn’t want to tell me about it and Lady Cele—”

I playfully rolled my eyes at her. “Twilight, come now, be serious. Of course they’re going to act like it’s some sort of scandalous secret and not talk about it. It’s not exactly ‘polite conversation’, is it? Not to mention that the Lady is too proper for those things, to put it nicely.”

Twilight blinked at me, realizing she was rather upset her big reveal turned out to not be that at all.

“Next time you have a big secret,” I said, tapping the tip of her nose, “make sure it actually is a secret, you silly girl.”

“I’m not a silly girl!” she protested in a very silly way. “And that’s not the only secret I found out!”

“It isn’t?” I asked her, fluttering my eyelashes. “What’s your other secret, then? That Lady Celestia is fabulously wealthy?”

“No,” said Twilight. “She used to have another student living with her.”

“Did she?” I asked simply. “Interesting.”

“That’s not all, though,” Twilight continued, her voice again falling to a hushed whisper. “Apparently, she left her studies with Lady Celestia to join Lady Luna’s brothel.”

I believe I smiled. At least, I think I smiled or something like that while Twilight stared at me, waiting for my reaction.

Well, well.

Well then.

“I can see why it would be a big secret to them,” I said simply, or as simply as I could manage, before I continued, “but I don’t see why you have the need to act so scandalized?”

Twilight blinked. “I… What?”

“This…” I gestured haphazardly to her. “The leaning in and the whispering and the big secret. I don’t understand why exactly her joining a brothel warrants such a… this.”

Twilight stared at me, confused. “But… Rarity… I mean… She joined a brothel, and—”

“Twilight, darling.” I licked my lips and sat up straight, folding my hands over my lap. “Twilight, I don’t mean to be rude, but… what’s it to you?” At her silence, I continued. “Really, darling, who cares? It’s just a job.”

“That’s what Lady Luna said,” Twilight pointed out, and I laughed.

“Well, I should hope so considering she runs a brothel! If she were all hush-hush about it, I’d be worried, frankly. And regardless, I’m sure this girl had her reasons for doing what she did.”

Twilight leaned back, somewhat confused by my sudden defensiveness. “I know that, Rarity. I was just curious about why.”

“And again I ask, Twilight, does it matter? Does it really matter why she made that choice?”

Twilight fell silent, for once.

“No,” she said eventually. “I guess it doesn’t, no, but…” She blushed, embarrassed. “I was just trying to understand. I was just curious.”

My expression softened. How could it not? There was a distinction between being prejudiced and being misinformed, after all.

“I know, Twilight, I do,” I reassured her. “I’m only trying to say that it’s not really any of our business, is it? It doesn’t affect you in any way, does it? So unless it does, then who cares?”

I certainly didn’t want her to care.

Twilight hesitated before me. She hesitated because something about that didn’t feel quite right, yet she couldn’t dispute it, either. It really wasn’t her business, like I’d said.

“...Right,” she conceded eventually, not wanting for me to think ill of her. “I suppose you’re right.”

And I was right, wasn’t it? It didn’t affect her.

Well, not yet, at least.

One day it would, and one day, clutching a crumpled ticket to the Sapphire Carousel’s grandest show, she would have to decide if she cared or not, but until that day…

Who cared?

I have an important announcement re: the story for those of you who might have not read the blogpost. A day or two after the posting of this chapter, the rating of the fic will switch to Mature. I go more into detail HERE, in case you want to read.

As I said there, I'm only doing this so I can have more liberties exploring the main theme, not because I intend on changing how I've been treating these topics.

Also, thanks as always for reading, and if you find typos, please let me know (preferably via PM), and thanks as well to the wonderful individuals who preread this chapter.

I cried for two weeks straight when my parents left the city and I moved into the Lady’s house.

I pressed my face against my pillow at night, desperately hoping it would muffle my sobs while I clutched my mother’s farewell letter against my chest.

I felt ashamed; aghast at the fact that I dared weep when the Lady had given me all that I’d ever wanted. She allowed me to stay in the city, she filled my belly with feasts unlike my parents were ever able to serve, she financed my education in the best high school that money could afford.

She’d even offered to do the same when Sweetie Belle came of age.

My parents had been beside themselves with gratitude

So was I, I thought, and yet…

And yet there I was, a weeping fourteen year old whispering for her mother, wishing she hadn’t moved away to the other side of the country, and feeling awful for wishing it.

It was silly of me to think the Lady didn’t hear me every night. How could she not when so little happened in this city that she did not know about?

You would think her cruel. Who would stand by a door and listen to a child weep and do nothing about it?

The truth was, you see, she felt guilty.

Sitting on her reading chair, every night staying up until I fell asleep, Lady Celestia felt quite, quite guilty.

She was stung by the fact that I wept for my mother, and horrified that she was stung at all. She should be grateful, and I don’t say that in any ill way, but because that’s precisely what she thought.

You might think I’d been the privileged one, the one who’d gained more, but the Lady thought differently. It was not me that should be grateful she let me stay, it was she that should be grateful I stayed.

I’ve mentioned this before, or hinted at it at the very least, but the Lady was lonely. Unmarried by choice, single by choice, childless by choice, and she was fine with it all until she met me. In the same way she had changed my life, so had I changed hers, and yet…

She had never really understood how important I was until the day my mother said goodbye.

“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” my mother had asked the day she left, standing by the mansion’s doors with tears in her eyes as the Lady watched. Guilty. “Tell me about your first day in high school, and about your friend, and your first boyfriend, and your first—” Her words had been caught in the emotion of it all, of all the things she now realized she wouldn’t be there for, and her eyes welled up with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and to this day the memory pains me, of her thinking she’d somehow failed. “It’s expensive here, and your father needs the job and... and—”

“It’s alright! It’s fine, it’s fine,” I told her. I stood tall and proud, a child trying to look like what she wasn’t. “I’ve grown up. I’ll be fine.”

She stroked my cheek and laughed softly. “My grown-up girl.”

I remember still how she stood up and looked at Celestia, their gaze holding a conversation I couldn’t understand as a child.

My mother tried to speak.

“Dear La—”

“Please,” the Lady softly interrupted.

My mother tried to smile, and overcome by emotions and stress and the unbearable pain of saying goodbye to your child, she forgot to be discreet and took out a thick white envelope from her bag.

It was the Lady who reacted first, her hand going to my shoulder and her voice gentle but stern. “Rarity, please give us a moment, won’t you?”

My mother reacted to that, her eyes widening and the envelope quickly returning to her bag.

“What was that?” I asked, foolish, foolish, foolish. I’d heard them talking before, about matters that did not concern me, and I decided to make them my concern. “Is that money? It is, isn’t it? I heard you talking to father!” I was horrified, by the idea of my mother losing money, and my stay with the Lady becoming a transaction. “You need that money! For you and father and Sweetie! You don’t have to pay her!” I turned to the Lady and expected her to agree, which she surely did. “Isn’t that right, Auntie Celestia?!”

If the Lady looked uncomfortable, she did not show it, and neither did she voice her agreement with my statements. She only offered my mother a sympathetic smile.

My mother bent down, tears still in her eyes. “Rarity,” she whispered, almost pleaded. “Please go inside.”

“But mo—”

“Please,” she said, quietly and forcefully and painfully proud, “please let me do this. Just this one thing.” She smiled shakily at me and brushed back my hair. “Go inside. Please.”

And so I did, shaken by something I didn’t understand as a child, shaken just as the Lady had been shaken by the entire display. Shaken at being shown so completely how one who has so little will still insist on being able to give her not just what they believed was owed, but what they held most dear if it was what seemed right to do.

This moment, this frame of time was fresh in her memory every time she heard my cry, every time we were both beset by our oppressive guilt.

I, for feeling I’d replaced my mother with Celestia.

The Lady, for loving me as though I was hers.

So she waited, every night, as my sobs filtered through the air, and decided that I should come to her. She’d been taught as a child that a girl should cry in her mother’s arms, and so she would wait every night until I came out, if I came out.

She would not take anyone’s place unless it was needed.

She would act as my mother, if and only if I allowed it.

Relief flooded her the night I came out, found her sitting in the library, rushed into her arms to cry, and so did we allow ourselves to forget our guilt and forget her place.

Forget it when I’d tumble onto her bed, a teenager ready to vent to her mother

Forget it when she’d scold me over my rebellions, my whiny yells echoing throughout the mansion.

Forget it when I teased her relentlessly over the many men that vied her attention, scorning those that had children that might take my place.

Forget it when I admired and loved her much in the same way she did me.

But we knew what was real, did we not? We allowed ourselves to forget, but this does not mean it wasn’t still there, waiting in the wings for the perfect moment to come out, and it did!

It did, this weapon we had, the most cutting sword we could ever use against each other.

She wasn’t my mother, she knew, but never had it struck her so fiercely as the day we last spoke, when I hissed it to her myself.

There are things we don't want to believe.

Things that are there, naked before us, touching our bare skin with slim fingertips, kissing our neck and our lips and our mind, and yet we refuse to acknowledge them even though our body feels every electric jolt, every heavy thrust, every gentle kiss.

Ignorance is bliss, they say.

With every word that I speak, every story I tell, you and I come closer and closer to the end of this tale. I've… I've tried to delay it. I've tried to woo you away from the raw and the real with tales of romance and fairies, dinner conversations and boys who died on benches, scholars who are hopeless and prostitutes who are hopelessly in love.

I've tried, but there is only so much I can delay.

It's sad to think of this story ending. Sad for me, at least, and though I can't speak for you, I like to think that you're sad too.

It was snowing both times—past and present. I suppose that's to be expected. It always snowed on Hearth's Warming Eve.

Think of the mansion, will you not? The lovely abode, so grand and so haunting and so terribly alone. Think of the rooms never used, the halls never walked, the many lonely things Twilight Sparkle saw day in and day out.

Now, imagine a staff of five people.

Rose Petal, the oldest maid, huffing about as she cleaned tiny soaked shoeprints from the entrance hall.

Lily Petal, her daughter, drying the small wet boots a child had left on the carpet.

Calligraphy, the butler, squinting at a list of suggestions lovingly written in colored crayons.
Gumbo, the cook, whistling as he washed away the chocolate milk powder from the bottom of a small glass.

And finally, Flint Sparks, the coachman, taking off a child's saddle from the back of a small white pony.

Lady Celestia owned the mansion, certainly, but I? I was its eleven-year old princess.

"Auntieeeee," I called from within Lady Celestia's grand bedroom, seated at the edge of a bed four times as large as my own and looking towards a walk-in closet that had more clothes than my entire family owned. "Are you coming out now?"

"Rarity! Ladies aren't so impatient!" the Lady called back, her fairy-like laugh slipping out into the room.

"I'm not impatient!" I protested. I was simply excited, over-eager, so many things but impatient? Never.

She came out of the closet eventually, and it was hard not to gasp at the sight of a gorgeous crimson gown hidden beneath a stunning Saddle Arabian green cashmere shawl. It was festive, no doubt, and I wondered with awe if the Lady truly wasn't a fairy as I'd once believed.

"Well?" she said, twirling around for my benefit. "Do you approve?"

What a silly question! You'd be hard-pressed to find something the Lady did I did not approve of. Maybe that is precisely why it stung so much when I learned she was not the same.

In any case, going back to the dress, I jumped off the bed and walked towards her, crossing my arms behind my back and pretending I was nothing short of the city's most esteemed fashion critic. I hummed in a very opinionated sort of way and inspected the dress, gently tugging at the fabric.

Once I was done, I stepped back.

"I don't know," I said with great severity.

Lady Celestia frowned at me. "You picked it!"

"I changed my mind!" I exclaimed, giggling at her absolutely exasperated expression.

"You've changed your mind six times already!" she complained, but did not deny me a seventh and final attempt. “You can pick once more, and that’s it.”

My eyes grew wide. My lower lip jutted out.

“Only once more?” I asked.

She smiled affectionately and bent down, tapping my nose with her finger. “Only once.”

I made a show of rolling my eyes. Only once! Can you imagine that? It was like asking me to pack my clothes into only one suitcase! It was impossible, but…

“All right,” I relented with a huff, marching straight back to the bed and sitting down upon it, the princess ready to give her final judgement. “You should use…” I thought long and hard about it, saw in my head every single dress the Lady had, and finally announced, “The purple one!”

Lady Celestia frowned. “The purple one?” she asked. “Oh! You mean the lavender one,” she corrected, and I felt myself blush.

“That’s what I meant,” I insisted quickly.

She laughed. “Yes, you did, and I think that’s a wonderful choice,” she continued as she disappeared inside her closet once again, completely missing my delighted expression. “It’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

I nodded my head. “Uh-huh! Mommy says it matches with the dress she’s bringing for me.”

A delighted gasp rang out, and Lady Celestia’s head poked out the closet. “We’re going to have matching outfits?” she asked with childlike excitement, and whether it was manufactured or not, I could not tell or care. However, before I could return her excitement, she gave me a knowing stare. “Then why didn’t you ask me to wear this one from the start?”

I tried to stammer a defense, but I’d been caught, so I confessed. “I like seeing your dresses.”

“If that’s the case,” the Lady said, retreating back into her fashion heaven, “would you like your holiday present to be sewing lessons to make your own dress?”

I practically fell off the bed in my excitement. “Oh, yes, please, Auntie! Can I?! Can we start now?!”

“Go ask Gumbo if lunch is nearly ready, and we can start after we’ve eaten,” she promised.

It never occured to me as a child that all these things were temporary. As I ran through those halls, music filtering out of the reading room Rose Petal was cleaning, my giggles ringing through the air as I was told for the sixth time by Calligraphy not to run around, I never thought things would change.

As I was about to rush into the kitchen, the double-doors swung forwards and nearly knocked me down, followed by dear Flint stepping out with three crystal glasses.

“Here,” he said, handing me the glasses without even asking if I wanted to help, thank you very much. “Put them at the table, will you? Lunch is nearly ready.”

“You didn’t say please,” I pointed out rather snootily, lifting my nose up. “That’s not very polite.”

“Running into the house with snow-covered shoes isn’t either, yet here we are,” he added and that shut me up quite fast.

Without another word, and after begging him to please not let the Lady know, I made my way to the dining room and saw everything already nearly set. Two plates were at each end of the nearly ten-feet-long table, and a third plate was set in the middle of the right-hand side.

I always thought it was silly as a child—did the Lady expect me to yell to her?—but I did as she’d taught me and followed etiquette. After I’d put the glasses in their place, I wondered perhaps if the Lady would agree to have me seated to the right of her at dinner. It was the place reserved for the most esteemed guest of the night, after all.

My musings were cut short by the sound of loud clacking heels, and moments later, the ever elegantly-broody Lady Luna stepped into the dining room, her eyes set on me.

“There’s a child here,” she said with a crinkle of her nose.

“There’s an adult here,” I replied the same way, and failed miserably to contain a giggle at Luna’s raised eyebrow.

“You’re here early,” said my Lady after I’d run over for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Is your mother here?”

“Mother isn’t coming until seven with daddy and Sweetie, but she let me come early to help Auntie Tia wrap presents,” I explained, watching as the Lady grabbed a piece of bread from a basket and ate it in one gulp. “Auntie says you shouldn’t eat the bread before dinner.”

“My sister says I shouldn’t do many things, child,” my Lady noted.

“Well, you won’t get presents if you keep being naughty! Auntie Celestia is getting me loads of presents because I’ve been a lady.” I crossed my arms behind my back and began to sway from side to side as I asked, “Did you get me presents?”

“Strange. I thought ladies didn’t ask if they’ve gotten presents or not.”

A blush swept over my face. “I was only asking because I got you one!” I defended, sticking out my tongue.

“Tongues are not good presents,” she noted and then added after a pause, “Then again, some people love tongue.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.”

I squinted at her disapprovingly. “Why do you always say silly things, Auntie Luna?”

“Because she is silly,” said Lady Celestia, walking into the room in a plain white dress she usually wore when lounging about her mansion. “Hopefully she’ll behave at dinner tonight, hm?”

Though I’m more than sure my Lady had a sharp reply she wanted to voice, she held her tongue and smiled thinly.

“Who’s coming to dinner, Auntie?” I asked Lady Celestia. “Will there be children?”

“It’ll be mostly adults, but there will be a few bringing their children. Speaking of which!” She turned to Lady Luna and lowered her voice. “You will not believe who’s agreed to come! Duchess Purity and her children!”

I gasped, clapping my hands together. “Really?!”

My Lady scowled. “Shame.”

“Does that mean that Blueblood is coming?” I asked Lady Celestia with great excitement and God-awful taste that I was blessed enough to grow out of.

I don’t intend on going into detail on who exactly Blueblood was, for I’m sure you’ll see more of him soon enough. Not today, I’m afraid, and certainly not in this particular episode of our tale, but you will eventually.

The Lady smiled at me. “Yes,” she said. “Blueblood is coming too.”

Goodness, how my eyes sparkled! How they shone with delight! The son of a duchess would be attending the party!

“Should I tell the Duchess you’ve dragged his son to the mistletoe should he disappear?” asked Lady Celestia with a mischievous smile, and the two sisters shared a delighted glance at my scandalized gasp.

“I don’t want to kiss Blueblood!” I lied through my tiny, white teeth, crossing my arms and harrumphing. “And I don’t even know where it is! Where is it?”

“Why do you want to know if you’re not taking him there?” asked Lady Luna.

“So I can avoid it!” I insisted, and continued to insist as we walked towards out the dining hall, past the living room and up to the door leading to the foyer.

There it was, hanging from the top of the door’s arch, a single bundle of mistletoe neatly tied up with a shining red bow.

“Here we are,” Lady Celestia said, her smile vanishing at my scowl. “What’s wrong?”

“Why is it there?” I asked with great annoyance. “That’s silly! Everyone can see it there!”

“Yes. That’s the point,” Lady Luna said.

“Well, that’s silly!” I repeated, stamping my foot against the floor. “It should be somewhere special for kissing!”

Lady Celestia bent down to catch my eye. “I thought you didn’t care about kissing him?”

“I don’t!” I stammered. “Kisses are for children.”

Lady Celestia’s laughter rang in the air.

“Kisses are for children? Well then!”

In one great sweep, she pulled me into her arms and brought me up with her as she stood up straight, absolutely refusing to obey my giggling protests to put me down.

“Goodness,” she said, a little out of breath. “I’m not as strong as I used to be!”

Holding me tightly in her arms, she walked right under the mistletoe and gave me many great kisses on my cheeks with her crimson lips.

“Stop!” I laughed, wriggling in her arms with delight and secretly hoping she would never put me down. “Auntie Tia! Stop! Stop!”

When she put me down, I straightened my dress and then turned back to the mistletoe, still determined to make my point.

“It should be somewhere no one can see,” I insisted, moreso than anything because I didn’t want anyone catching me kissing Blueblood. It had to be somewhere charmingly cozy, where one could could cuddle up to their beloved after a kiss. A place just like… “Like the reading room!”

“The reading room?” Lady Celestia hummed, looking up at the mistletoe. “I could move it there.” She grinned. “Less room for Blueblood to run away at the sight of it, I suppose.”

“I don’t want to kiss Blueblood!” I insisted, and finally, for once, I meant it. “I’m going to meet my special somebody and that’s who I’m gonna kiss!”

“Ooooh! A prince?” Lady Celestia suggested.

“Or a princess?” Lady Luna asked next, and at her sister’s strange look, she simply smiled.

“Maybe,” I said, “I’ll kiss a prince and a princess!”

Lady Luna let out the rudest snort at that statement, earning a glare from her sister who instead bent down and raised my chin with her finger.

“Well, regardless of who you kiss under the mistletoe, it won’t be happening until after lunch, mm?” She stood up again and offered me her hand. “Come now.”

I put my hand in hers and followed her and Lady Luna back towards the dining room, the scent of food already wafting in the air and drifting my mind further and further away from thoughts of kisses, and princesses, and mistletoe placements.

I kept my resolve, too, I’ll have you know.

I did not kiss Blueblood under the mistletoe that evening, nor anyone else in the Hearth’s Warming parties that followed down the years. No one was ever special enough to take to the reading room.

Well, no one except for you know who.

“This tastes… interesting,” said Twilight Sparkle, peering into the dark brew inside her mug.

The low chatter of patrons filled the dimly lit bar, spilling towards the back-corner booth where Twilight and I sat, both of us cradling warm cups of hot cocoa laced with rum.

I giggled, the tip of my nose red from the cold and the drink. “You’ve said that already. Five times, in fact.”

She returned the giggle, and I remember thinking how unsurprising it was that the poor dear was an absolute lightweight.

“I’m sorry!” she said and then bit down a smile. “It’s true, though… It tastes sweet but… it also tastes like…”

“Like wood?” I offered, and her eyes lit up.

“Yes! Like wood!” She was pleased for a moment, and then a slight frown marred her beautiful face as she fixed me with a gaze that danced between focused and lost. “Wait. Why do you know what wood tastes like? Why do I know what wood tastes like?”

“Because you have eaten wood before, Twilight,” I said without missing a beat, wanting to find out just how drunk she was and what outlandish things she’d believe if I said them quite seriously.

She blinked at me. “Oh. Right,” she said with the cutest nod as she took a long sip that was cut short when her eyes went wide and the cup landed on the table with a thud. “Wait! No, I haven’t!...Or have I? Why would I eat wo—Rarity!”

Oh, how displeased she looked as I giggled like a schoolgirl.

“Stop teasing me!” she protested.

“Oh, darling, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll stop!” I promised between fits of laughter. “I just— Darling, what kind of a question is—” I forced myself to take a breath, compose myself as much as I could and then regaled her with my most endearing smile. “I’m fine now.” She gave me a hard stare. “I am!”

We fell into a lovely silence, both enjoying our drinks and our company.

She was so lovely.

I’ve said this before, and I will certainly say it until the day I’m no longer able to, but she was so so lovely. She was so painfully, painfully lovely with her piercing eyes and almost bashful expression as I admired her with all the adoration the alcohol had amplified.

“What?” she asked.

You’re beautiful, I wanted to say, and I should have! I should have said so, and said so many things I did not and now wish I had. You’re beautiful, I should have said, with your eyes and smile burned into my memory.

“So, Twilight, tell me,” I said instead, grabbing my mug and leaning back, taking a sip of the drink in some attempt to find stability through instability, “have you had your first kiss?”

She was thrown by my question, though not embarrassed.

“Yes,” she said, amused. “Why?”

“Oh, I was just curious.”

And upset and jealous of whoever had stolen the opportunity that should have been mine, but that is neither here nor there.

“Who was it with?” I asked next.

“My boyfriend,” she said, her fingers curled around her mug and her gaze downcast—ashamed, almost. “Well, ex-boyfriend.”

“You had a boyfriend?” I asked, leaning in with intrigue. “My, my, my, Twilight Sparkle! I didn’t know you swung both ways! I must confess that I do, too.”

Lovely splotches of red adorned her face. “Oh. Er. Well. I don’t actually swing both ways. It’s more like—Well—Err—”

I smiled and lifted my hand, putting it on hers. “Dear, you don’t have to explain. It’s a private thing and—”

“It’s fine, though!” she blurted out. “I don’t mind. It’s more that I used to think that I was straight, but I realized I was only dating men because I thought I should and because my family thought I should even if they don’t say it, but I know they do, which is why I did it.” She took a breath and then went on like a motorboat. “Anyway, I realized it wasn’t working out and it didn’t help that I always stared too long at my friend Sunset Shimmer and so I wasn’t really sure until I me—” She caught herself and cleared her throat. “The point is I swing the women way. And also that my first kiss was with my boyfriend.”

“Your ex-boyfriend,” I clarified.

“Yes. My ex-boyfriend.”

I hummed thoughtfully and raised my cup to my lips, sipping my hot chocolate while regarding her in quiet contemplation. Once I was done, I put the cup down and folded my hands on the table.

“Twilight, if I may be scandalously bold, have you ever kissed a woman before?”

She froze in her chair, and if you’ll mind putting me aside for a moment, I’d love to talk about her. She froze in her chair, and though my earlier question had only thrown her off yet not embarrassed her, well… now was quite different.

“Kissed a woman?” she repeated, and her eyes were immediately drawn to my crimson lips right up until the instant they were hidden when I took another sip of my drink. A slight reprieve that was rudely taken away when I lowered my cup and licked the creamy chocolate off my lips.

“Well?” I asked at her silence, putting the cup down and grinning. “Are you still with me, dear, or have you kissed so many you have to stop and think about it?”

“What?” she asked at first, up until her brain finally caught up and I wished I had a way to photograph her expression. “What?! No!”

“Then have you or have you not?” I asked, innocently.

“No,” she finally replied with great embarrassment. “No, I haven’t.”

“No, you haven’t. In that case...” I reached into my purse and took out my worn-out tube of lipstick, making a show of reapplying it. Not because I needed it, either, but just because it was amusing to drive her crazy.

And crazy did I drive her, the poor girl staring at me and for one terrifyingly real and desperate second, as I leaned in and smiled, she had the wildest impression I was going to ask to kiss her.

“In that case,” I repeated, “you haven’t really had your first kiss.”

Her face scrunched up in the most delightful fit of confusion. “Yes, I have?” she said, looking at me as though I’d just said that two plus two made sixty.

I sighed theatrically, as one should. “Well, all right, if you want to be technical about it, you have, but it shouldn’t really count if it’s not with the gender you’re interested in, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I…”

She faltered in her reply, her mind clearly debating whether or not she’d had her first real kiss before, and then grew upset when I laughed.

“Rarity!”

“What?” I exclaimed. “It’s not my fault you’re so easy to tease!”

“You can’t keep saying that every time,” she pointed out and when I blew her a kiss, she rolled her eyes at me. “Anyway,” she said, “there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“Yes?” I asked, fluttering my eyelashes at her.

“I… Well, you probably have plans already, but in case you don’t, which is fine if you do, I already assumed you would, which—”

“Twilight,” I interrupted, amused. “Please, ask your question.”

She offered me a bashful smile and sat up straight, gathering the courage for her statement.

“If you don’t have plans, I’d like to invite you and Sweetie to Hearth’s Warming dinner at Lady Celestia’s house.”

Hearth’s Warming dinner at Lady Celestia’s house.

A sentence I’d not heard in a long, long time.

“Ah,” I said, and not much more. What else could I say? What else could I say as I noted the air had gotten colder, my heart had slowed, and distant memories resurfaced uninvited. Eventually, I found words again and spoke up, my fingers curling around my mug in some search for strength. “At the Lady’s mansion?”

Twilight, my darling ignorant beloved, nodded her head.

“Yes. It’s just that, well, the Lady won’t—” She caught herself, a moment’s hesitation which you’ll understand a bit later, and said instead, “Anyway, the point is I would really love for you to come.”

Twilight Sparkle was proud of herself, though she did not show it. Countless times of practicing in the mirror earlier that morning had paid off! She’d read in a book that happiness comes to those who seize it, and so had she seized her own happiness by asking her secret beloved out for dinner.

It was understandable then that the poor dear would feel rather crushed when I refused.

“Ah… I’m sorry, Twilight, I…” Every word cut my throat, every lie burned my skin. “I unfortunately do already have plans.”

Plans that I was more than ready to cancel mere seconds ago.

“Oh,” she said, and now more than ever I cursed the fact that she could be such an open book, her rejection splashed clear across her face. And yet, she was still who she was, and even in her disappointment, she could not bear upsetting me and recovered soon enough. “Oh! Well, that’s fine! I guessed you would. I just had, uh, some presents for you and Sweetie and… Right.”

“You had presents?” I asked, and ohhhh, now I felt even worse! That’s what I got! That’s what I deserved for keeping secrets I shouldn’t be keeping!

“It’s fi—”

“Why don’t we meet the day after, then?” I quickly offered, desperate to not upset her and to somehow convey the fact that I really truly would have loved to spend time with her. “We can have our own Hearth’s Warming dinner! Perhaps?”

Her reaction was less than encouraging.

“Uhm.” She looked like she wanted to hug herself, but settled instead on closing and opening her fists. “I can’t, sorry. I’ll be out of town to see my family for two weeks…” She offered me an apologetic smile. “Maybe when I come back?”

I hope my smile didn’t look as insincere as it felt.

“Of course, darling. When you come back.”

We fell into an awkward, sad silence until she was braver than I am and moved the conversation along.

“Did I tell you about the new book I’m reading? It’s about…”

Needless to say, my night had soured fast. Not only did I have to reject Twilight, but she was also going to be taken away from me for two dreadfully long weeks. What had promised to be wonderful holidays were now turning out to be absolutely miserable ones.

It certainly didn’t help either of us that we both wished I had kissed her.

Which is strange for me, if I may be sincere.

The idea of wanting a kiss felt so foreign to me, something I hadn’t wanted in such a long time and was now surprised that I did. I suppose it makes sense, considering my line of work, that kisses hardly ever felt special anymore.

A week later, I found myself engaged with a client that loved to kiss. Loved to kiss my lips, fascinated by how they left no lipstick marks; loved to kiss my neck, roughly and gently all at once until I rewarded him with delightful noises; and he certainly loved to kiss other places too, but let us be discreet, hmm?

He covered my body in kisses from top to bottom, soft and rough, and yet they all felt exactly the same.

Ordinary.

“It’s snowing,” I noted as I gazed towards the window from bed, the white sheets only barely covering my naked body.

“Is it?” asked my client, adjusting his underwear by the edge of the bed before sitting down and looking out the window as well. We watched quietly for a moment, the snowflakes sticking against the hazy glass. “Well, what’s Hearth’s Warming without a little bit of snow, right?”

I tore my eyes from the window and instead turned them towards him, looking over the remnants of our activities. I saw scratch marks on his back, still red and vibrant and glistening under sweat, and I smiled at the bruise on his neck after a forceful kiss at his request. Traces of me all over his body, but not a single trace of crimson lipstick.

“Admiring your handiwork?” he asked me with a grin. “Gotta hand it to you, Rarity, that was a damn good holiday present.”

I smiled, pleased. “You did pay for the best, my dear.”

“Speaking of which,” he added, putting on his trousers, “thanks for the dress you made for my kid. Can’t wait to see the look on my ex at Rosey looking like a doll at dinner tonight.”

“Oh? She invited you to dinner with them? That’s encouraging!”

He nodded, getting up to put his shirt on.

“Yeah! Don’t expect us to get together again or anything, but it’s nice for the kids that we’re not at each other’s throats anymore, you know?” He moved across the room to fetch the tie that had been thrown under the couch. “What about you? Any lucky fellow you’re meeting up with tonight?”

“Not a fellow, no.”

He blinked at me. “...A lucky gal?”

With great pain, I shook my head. “No, not that either. I believe I shall be spending the evening with a few friends and my sister,” I replied.

“That sounds nice.” He finished knotting his tie and turned to me, arms crossed. “Say, how do you feel about handcuffs and a leash next time?”

I leaned in and fluttered my eyes. “How do you feel about paying extra?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see!” he exclaimed and with that, my client was gone, off to enjoy what I’m sure was a lovely Hearth’s Warming with his family.

And what did I do the moment the door closed?

I did what I always do: leaned back with a theatrical sigh and thought of Twilight.

I thought about her so often, and sometimes during work which even if I’m sure she’d be scandalized to know, one could not deny it did wonders for my performance.

But in that moment, lying on my bed and staring up at the ceiling, my thoughts of Twilight were not pleasant. I’d not seen her again since our meeting at the bar and I would not be seeing her again until well past the holidays.

I missed her already.

“Oh, Rarity,” I murmured, “why are we fools?”

Several loud knocks on the employee door jolted me out of my thoughts. “Rares?!” Rainbow called out. “You in there? I just saw your client leave the joint! Come on, move your ass, we need to clean the room!”

“Move my ass,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “Really, Rainbow!” I called out. “Must you be so crass?!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever! AJ’s here too, and she keeps naggin’ me about wanting to see you!”

“I ain’t nagging you!” a second muffled voice protested.

I sighed a sigh I hoped the entire city could hear before finally rising from bed, the covers falling to my side. One would think that asking for a few minutes of melancholic reflection was akin to asking for the world! Nevertheless, I made my way towards the door, put on the blue silk robe hanging near before taking a breath, opening the door and…

“Applejack, d-a-a-arling!” I purred, leaning against the frame of the door and grinning at my audience of two. “Have you finally realized you simply cannot keep resisting me?”

Though Rainbow’s snort was appreciated, it was my dear Applejack’s frigid reply that delighted me.

“‘Scuse me now?”

“Applejack, I’m so glad! I’ll give you a discount!”

“What you’re givin’ me is how many pies y’all need me to make for our dinner tonight ‘cause it’s already noon,” she said flatly, and I could hardly suppress a grunt at her COMPLETE and UTTER lack of flair.

“Why are you asking me?” I asked with no small hint of annoyance, moving past them and into the hidden hallways of the Sapphire Carrousel, the two women following behind me into the labyrinth of women and the occasional man walking around in varying degrees of nakedness. “Isn’t this more Pinkie’s department?”

“That’s what I told her, and she said you had the final headcount!” protested Applejack, the poor dear as red as her apples as she avoided looking at my more revealing co-workers. “I came here yesterday to see you, but you were busy all day and—”

I stopped and whipped around, tilting my head. “Applejack, really, what did you expect? It’s the holidays.” I turned around and kept walking through the halls, she and Rainbow still hot on my heel. “The nights are getting longer, people are depressed and stressed, so they need to blow off steam! You’re the one looking for me during one of my busiest months of the year.”

“She kiiiiinda has a point, AJ.”

“Rainbow, you ain’t helping.”

“Sorry.”

I stopped and turned to her, crossing my arms.

“Why does Pinkie even think I have the final headcount for tonight?”

“I reckon it’s because of your girlfriend,” she said plainly.

“My what?”

Now she was the one sighing at me.

“I told AB about what Pinkie said and she told me that she reckon it’s your girlfriend because Sweetie told her you have a girlfriend, and while I’m at it, I feel mighty special as your friend findin’ out through my little sister that you have a girlfriend.” She took a breath and stared me down. “So, is she comin’ or not?”

My thoughtless reply came fast.

“No, she isn’t,” I said and it took me a shamefully long second to quickly add, “and she’s not my girlfriend!”

Rainbow made the rudest sound.

“Hah! Yeah, right! She might as well be with you all day going—” She cleared her throat and spoke in some sort of dreadful attempt to sound like me. “Ooooooh, Rainbow Dash, daaaaaaaahling! Today she looked at me, and it was woooooonderful!”

“Rainbow, I—”

“Oooooh, Raaaaaaaainbow!” she continued, nearly swooning to the floor if Applejack hadn’t been a dear and caught her instead of letting her fall as she deserved. “Rainbow, daaaahling, today she said she read a book and I got the—” Her voice returned to normal as she searched me with her eyes. “What’s that phrase you said once and I laughed for like fifty hours?”

“Rainb—”

“Oh, right!” She resumed her mockeries. “She read a book, and oh my staaaars, I got the vapors!”

“I have never in my life said that!”

“She got the whats?” Applejack asked, and then shook her head and rubbed her forehead. “You know what? It don’t matter none. Can you please just tell me if your girlfriend is coming or not?”

“No,” I said. “Yes. Maybe. No! I don’t know! It’s complicated! I saw her last week and she invited me to the mansion and—”

“Woah, wait! Wait, wait, wait!” Rainbow interrupted. “She invited you to Lady Celestia’s mansion?”

“Your girlfriend invited you to Lady Celestia’s house?” Applejack asked, startled. “Who’s this girl that she can invite you willy-nilly there?”

“Celestia’s student,” Rainbow informed.

Applejack turned to me, more than a little shocked. “Your girlfriend is Lady Celestia’s student?!”

“She’s not my girlfriend, for heaven’s sake! She’s just a friend who invited me to Lady Celestia’s mansion for dinner.”

“Did you say yes?” Rainbow asked.

“Obviously not.”

“Mmhm,” Applejack said in that detestable tone where she thinks she knows better than I do. Which she didn’t! “I reckon if I asked you why you said no, you’re going to say ‘it’s complicated’, right?”

I stamped my foot against the floor. “Oh, spare me, Applejack! You know damn well it is complicated!”

She hummed again, looking me right in the eyes, and said very matter-of-factly, “She doesn’t know, does she? About your…” She gestured to all of me. “...night job.”

If my silence wasn’t a telling answer, then I daresay my blush was.

“Come ON, Rares!” Rainbow said, exasperated. “Just tell her! Or are you just waiting for her to find out herself?!”

“I ain’t got the time for this,” Applejack said before I could defend myself. “I’m going to make five pies and one of you will come by later and tell me where I’m taking them.”

She strode off, vanishing around a corner, and left Rainbow and I alone in the empty hall. In the silence of her wake, I made a disgruntled noise. Un-lady-like, I know, but do make allowances.

“Rares,” said Rainbow, her tone clipped and terse.

“What?” I asked, irate.

“Seriously?”

I threw my hands into the air. “What?! It’s not that simple, Rainbow! It isn’t! Consider how Celestia reacted when she found out about my choice! Consider that Twilight is Celestia’s student.”

“Yeah, and so were you and look how you turned out!” she exclaimed and at my look, added, “Wait. That came out wrong.”

“I’ll say.” I clenched my hands into fists, and nearly dug my nails into my hands. Talk about leaving a mark. “Not to mention the fact that Twilight’s from a noble family from the north! Granted, she may not be the very image of toffee-nosed nobility, of course she’s not, but … but there’s certain attitudes that she may carry, and…” I relaxed my grip and tried to sound final as I said, “It’s not that simple.”

She relented. I was almost disappointed.

“Fine,” she said. “You know what you’re doing.”

It was a lonely walk back to my room, and a miserable shower after that. I stood under the water, annoyed at everything and everyone but none more than myself. How much longer would I keep my life a secret? Why was I doing so? Was I not proving Lady Celestia right by being… ashamed? Would I not be spared pain if I told her outright and gauged her reaction? Perhaps she might understand, and I would be more than pleasantly surprised.

And if she didn’t, well… I’d be better off, would I not?

“Fool,” I chastised myself again when I walked out the bathroom, sitting down on my bed and drying my hair with a towel. “That’s what I am. A fool.”

When I was done, I put the towel on the bed and reached for the brush on my nightstand, my eyes momentarily landing on the lettering on a white throw pillow on the floor.

We were strangers when we first met…

Memories again resurfaced uninvited, of a child sitting on a little blue chair while a beautiful lady taught her to sew.

“We should have best friend bracelets!” I’d said.

“The ones with an engraving, you mean? Or the ones with a pendant?”

“...An engraving?”

“A sentence,” she explained. “A quote of some sort.”

“Like what?”

“Like… We were strangers when we first met, but now… now we are the best of friends.”

I was told once, or perhaps I’d read once, that things that hurt meant they mattered, and there was no denying it still hurt. It still hurt, and that’s what mattered the most.

Four knocks at the door caught my attention, and I held my tongue. I was being rude, true, but I did not feel inclined to entertain my Lady. I sighed when she knocked again, and knowing that it was best to simply get it over with, I called out.

“Come in!”

And so did Lady Luna come in, opening the door and stepping in, looking as sombre as ever with her grand black coat and matching outfit.

“Oh my, it’s an adult,” I greeted as I’d done since I was a child.

“A child,” she greeted back with the enthusiasm of a rock, and I couldn’t help smiling.

“What brings you to my grand abode today, Your Grace?” I asked somberly, mockingly bowing my head as I combed my hair.

“Sunday’s performance—”

“Has been moved to Saturday, I know, and I’ve adjusted my fitting schedules accordingly. Rose Tulip’s costume will be ready for you to approve tomorrow night, at the latest.”

“And the designs for—”

“The designs for next season’s performance,” I interrupted, gesturing to a stack of papers on a nearby chair, “are already sketched out. I was going to take them to you later, but you’re more than welcome to take them now.”

My Lady levitated the papers over with a gesture of her hand and looked them over, an approving smile on her lips.

“Impressive.”

I bowed my head. “A lady never disappoints. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“Yes,” said my Lady. “I will be out of town for the evening and came to say goodbye.”

“Out of town?” I asked, surprised. “Are you not having dinner with your sister?”

“I am, but we’ve both been invited to a dinner in Trottingham. Our train leaves in two hours.”

“Oh, I see,” I said, thoughtfully. “I suppose th—Wait. Lady Celestia won’t be at her mansion for dinner tonight, then?”

“No,” replied Lady Luna. She raised an eyebrow. “Why does this surprise you?”

I will admit I was at a loss for words, and as I went back through my vague recollections of my meeting with Twilight, I realized she never actually invited me to dinner with the Lady. She only invited me to dinner at the mansion.

“Twilight,” I breathed out, shaken. “Twilight, she… She invited me to Hearth’s Warming dinner at the mansion and…”

“You refused,” she completed. Not a question, not a surprised remark, but a pointed statement of fact. I almost expected her to chastise me again, berate me as she always did about my petty pride, but she hummed instead. “That explains many things.”

“I—Pardon?”

“Twilight Sparkle was invited to go to dinner with us tonight.” She hadn’t even finished her sentence and I already felt the crushing blow of it. “Celestia told me she refused as she hoped to invite a few friends to the mansion.”

I didn’t say anything in reply.

What could I say? What could I even try to say?

I’d already refused.

“May this be a lesson to you, Rarity,” the Lady said, for though she held great affection for me, tact and compassion were never her fortés. “Had you been an adult in this squabble, you would have been rewarded with not having to see my sister at all.”

I put my hand down on the bed and dug my nails into the sheets. I really was a fool. I really, truly was.

“Is there anything else you need from me?” I said, my words bordering between cool and glacial.

Despite the slight insolence in my tone, my Lady did not further shame me. Her expression softened instead.

“No,” she said. “I’ve left your present under the tree." She offered me a smile. "Happy Hearth’s Warming, Rarity.”

I couldn't not smile back. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, Auntie Luna.”

And she was gone, the hollow sound the door made as it shut echoing in the room and in my head.

One fact was painfully clear, and it was that I could not go on like this any longer. I simply couldn't...

So I decided I wouldn’t.

I would try to somehow undo what I’d done, and if I did…

Well, I would have to tell her the truth. Or try to, at least.

This was supposed to be part of a much longer chapter, but it was getting too long so I've split it up into two parts.

It also marks the first chapter since the rating changed.

Part II should be posted sometime this week if all goes well, where we will see the conclusion of the dinner as well as shit getting very real very fast.

ALSO IF U SEE TYPOS, pls let me know, preferably through PM! Teeenk u!

Her eyes flickered briefly towards the window and the snowflakes pelting against it. It reminded her of her home in the north, and with a pang, she wished she were there. No one could really cheer her up like Shining Armor could.

Well, maybe I could, but I had been the one to do the hurting, in this case.

“Only Fluttershy is coming?”

Though she likely did not mean it in that way, Lady Celestia’s question hung heavy in the heart of the woman seated on the other side of the Lady’s desk. It was an innocent question, Twilight knew, and a compassionate one if she was interpreting the Lady’s tone correctly, but it still didn’t take away from the fact that it stung.

“Yes. It’s not a hundred percent confirmed, but she’ll try to come after dinner with her family,” Twilight replied, affecting a smile and trying her best to look content.

She was, really! Fluttershy, who she’d only really met twice, was nice, and there was also… Well, there was also no one else, for in the few months she’d been in the city, Twilight Sparkle had hardly made friends. She felt pathetic at the realization. Wished that perhaps she’d tried harder to befriend the people her age at galas rather than shadow Celestia and impress elderly aristocrats.

“Making friends can be hard, can’t it?” the Lady mused, interrupting Twilight’s train of thought and surprising her instead.

It surprised Twilight that Celestia had made such a comment simply because it was so… so vulnerable, so personal, so distinctly outside the realm of questions asked in what had thus far been a mostly strictly student-teacher relationship.

Grant me an aside, will you not?

I’m sure you’ve noticed this, or at least realized that out of all the times we’ve sat here to talk, I’ve hardly ever spoken of Twilight’s relationship to the Lady. I’ll admit it’s been mostly because the subject doesn’t interest me, but it’s also because there was nothing to their relationship. To try and tell you about it would just result in a beautifully narrated tutoring session, nothing more.

Their dinner conversations, for example, remained focused almost exclusively on magic and books, theories and debates, and when it veered towards the personal, it stayed mostly on Twilight’s aspirations, her family in the North, and the Lady’s tales of her trips through the realm.

All she knew of Twilight’s personal life was what Twilight relayed. Many nobles had tried to gossip to the Lady what they’d heard of Twilight, who they’d seen her with, but every single time, the Lady refused to listen.

“What Twilight does in her free time,” she’d say kindly but decisively, ending rumors before they began, “is for Twilight alone to know.”

Beyond that, Lady Celestia herself asked so few questions to Twilight about her life that my beloved once wondered if she even cared at all.

And she did, make no mistake. She did care, absolutely and certainly, but Lady Celestia had learnt her lesson on caring too much.

Where were we? Ah, yes.

“Making friends can be hard, can’t it?” the Lady said, for once discarding the barriers around her. It was disarming, and Twilight could hardly stop herself from replying in kind.

“Yes,” she said, disheartened, feeling ill at the thought of failing at something so fundamental in life. Things were easier before, she thought, when she didn’t care about having friends at all.

Neither said anything for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, until the Lady felt bold and decided to cautiously dance towards dangerous territory.

“What about the person you meet up with secretly every week?” she asked, and I wish I’d been there to see Twilight caught off-guard.

“Excuse me?”

The Lady laughed. “Twilight, I know we’re still getting to know each other, but after your mother insisting you’d marry books if you could, I don’t think you’d be compelled to leave the house so much unless your heart was set on someone else.”

My darling turned a lovely shade of red, and the Lady laughed warmly.

“Did you ask our mystery stranger to come for dinner?”

“I did,” Twilight replied and then spoke without thinking, “she said she couldn’t.”

No sooner had the specific pronouns left her mouth, Twilight wished she could go back in time and take them back. It was one thing to reveal your sexual preferences to a stranger and another thing entirely to reveal them to someone who’s opinion mattered a lot.

And yet, if the Lady cared, she did not show it.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said instead, sympathy coloring her tone. “I assume she’s the real reason you didn’t go home for the holidays?”

Twilight’s silence was answer enough.

“I’m sorry, Twilight,” she said. “If you’d like, I can speak with Jet Set and see if you can attend the gala with me?”

Twilight shook her head. “It’s all right,” she said, not wanting to be a bother to the Lady. “Flint will be here, and Fluttershy might come.”

The Lady hummed. “Well… If your friend changes her mind, you’re more than welcome to host her.”

Twilight thought of me for a moment, tried to find a flicker of hope only to instead force herself to let go. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, “but I don’t think she will.” At the Lady’s expression, she offered a conciliatory smile. “It’s all right! I have my books, after all.”

And dear Flint, too.

All things considered, having Hearth’s Warming dinner with Flint was enjoyable for my beloved. Flint was a wonderfully good cook, and his lack of propriety was refreshing to Twilight. A change of pace she rather enjoyed.

“What about your family?” asked Twilight, sitting at a kitchen stool and watching the older man amble about, carrying ingredients to and fro.

“Haven’t seen them in years,” he replied. “I’ve only got some cousins up in the north, and I’m too old to travel up there.”

Twilight grinned. “Didn’t you go to Saddle Arabia with Lady Celestia last year, though?”

“That’s different,” he said, opening the oven and stuffing a turkey inside it. “The Lady didn’t expect me to work while we were there. My cousins do.” He turned to Twilight and brushed his hands together, getting rid of crumbs. “My wife would push me to go, but the only way that’s happening now is if she decides to haunt me into going.” He looked up towards the heavens—or ceiling, in this case—and wagged a finger. “And that isn’t an invitation to do so, Tulip!”

For the briefest of moments, Twilight Sparkle wished Tulip Sparks was still alive. It would have been nice to meet her, or to at least have someone else to talk with in the empty mansion she called home.

“Is it hard? To take care of the mansion all by yourself, I mean,” she asked next.

“Not anymore,” he said, sitting down on a chair with a great big sigh. “Tulip and I grew used to it.”

“Why didn’t… Why doesn’t the Lady hire more people to help?” she asked. She felt rather inclined to point out the Lady clearly had the money for it, so it made no sense having a single older man take care of an entire estate.

“She used to have a bigger staff.” He took a pause, debating how much Twilight deserved to know, and decided he might as well be sincere since he was on his third glass of wine. “Most of them quit.”

This took my beloved by surprise.

“They quit? Why?”

“The girl,” he said simply.

“The girl...? You mean the Lady’s protegée?”

A strange laugh left his lips. “I told you, didn’t I? That child had enough charm to woo the city. When she and Lady Celestia had that falling-out over her new job, most of the staff followed after her. This place—The Lady wasn’t the same after she left. ”

“I didn’t know they’d had a falling-out...” Twilight murmured. This certainly changed things, even if it was obvious in hindsight that such a choice would be poorly received by Lady Celestia.

Flint blinked at her, and then the poor fool caught up with his words. “Twilight, for lord’s sake! Look at what—I told you to stop poking your nose into this!”

“What?! You brought it up!”

He opened his mouth to protest, but closed it when he realized he had, in fact, brought it up himself.

“Ah, I’m too old for keeping secrets,” he grunted, getting up and busying himself with glaring at his turkey in the oven. “Not a word, Twilight,” he said, looking over his shoulder.

“Not a word,” she repeated. “Except… can I ask one last question?”

He grunted in reply, which could have meant no, but Twilight pretended it meant yes.

“What was her name?”

He grunted again, louder now, and now she could hardly pretend that was a positive noise in the least. As such, she decided not to press, he decided not to tell, and I am allowed to dance around that little revelation for a bit longer.

If you are frustrated, dear friend, do bear with me a little more, will you not? I will make it worth your while.

Where was I? Ah.

Even despite being so rudely shut down, Twilight’s brilliant mind reeled with this revelation and with growing curiosity over this girl that had so profoundly changed the Lady. There used to be a full staff in the mansion! A full staff, and another student, and all of it… was gone.

A wonderful life in what could arguably be considered the lap of luxury discarded in favor of…

… of being a prostitute.

Why?

Twilight Sparkle thought of this woman when Flint ushered her out so he could finish cooking. Who was she? Where did she live? What did she look like? What was her name? So many questions she had, and no one to answer them.

Rarity would know, she thought to herself.

Obviously, I didn’t know who this mystery woman was because I would have obviously mentioned it when she brought it up, but surely I would be able to help her investigate, wouldn’t I? If… If I had agreed to come to dinner, she could simply ask me to help her right there and then.

But I hadn’t.

And even if she tried not to think about it, it still hurt.

She made her way towards the dining room table and sat down on a chair, deciding not to think of me any longer and instead direct her thoughts towards Lady Celestia’s mysterious student.

Who was she?

In her thoughtful haze, her eyes roamed the many paintings hanging on the walls and settled on the monochromatic painting of the child she’d seen before. The grinning, darling little girl that seemed to always be amused by everything she saw.

Trepid realization dawned on her.

Was…

Was that a portrait of the girl? Her eyes shot towards the other two paintings, portraying the two sisters she knew so well, and suddenly nothing else made more sense than…

It had to be her, staring down at Twilight with a smile that almost seemed to confirm it.

In fact… maybe… if she levitated the painting down…

Maybe the artist had written down the model’s name?

With new determination, she stood from her chair and walked towards the painting, magic crackling in her hand as she did so. She looked around, making sure no one was watching, and then carefully lifted it off the wall, dust sprinkling down from its edges.

Her heart drummed in her ears, louder and louder the closer the painting drew, and it felt like everything came to a stop when it was right in front of her, the child gazing straight into her eyes.

One, two, and…

Woosh!

In a rather dramatic fashion, if I do say so myself, she turned the painting around and quickly scanned the back for any name, any sign, any clue as to who it was.

She found nothing of the sort.

“Great,” she muttered, a little too soon.

The sound of the doorbell startled her right out of her disappointment, enough so that she almost dropped the painting. With a frantic fear of being caught, she quickly put it back in its place right before Flint opened the kitchen door and blinked at her.

“What are you doing?” he asked her.

“Nothing! Why would I be doing anything?!”

She was never adept at being nonchalant, though he didn’t care enough to ask.

“Go open the door, won’t you? My potatoes are burning.” he said instead. “And if it’s those two brothers trying to sell to us again, tell them I will be calling the police.”

Relieved to have avoided confrontation, my beloved quickly set off towards the main entrance, wondering who exactly could be ringing their doorbell at such an hour and on such a day. Maybe it was Fluttershy, which would be great, but not ideal as she’d hardly had time to prepare activities for them to do together.

To her great disappointment, it was not Fluttershy who she heard behind the door once she reached the lobby. In fact, it wasn’t just one person but several, whose arguing was loud enough to stop her in her tracks.

“What?! Where are YOU going?!” one exclaimed in muffled indignation. “Come back here! You can’t chicken out now!”

“Wait! Are we playing tag?! But I can’t run carrying these cakes!”

A child’s voice piped up. “Hurry, ring the doorbell again, Sweetie Belle!”

“Sweetie Belle?” Twilight asked, her heart drumming up a stampede as she rushed towards the door.

She grabbed the handle and turned it down, the great big door opening with a loud creak, and was immediately greeted by a stunning—if slightly winded—woman in a gorgeous blue gown and her bizarre entourage that had rudely formed a barrier behind her to prevent her from running away again.

Not that she had in the first place.

There, standing under Lady Celestia’s front door, Twilight stared at me.

“...Rarity?”

“Twilight!” I exclaimed brightly, wonderfully, composed. “How are you?”

Twilight frowned. “I. Uh. Fine?”

“Teacher Twilight!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, walking past me and rushing to Twilight so as to grab onto her shirt and tug on it. “We came to have Hearth’s Warming dinner with you!”

Twilight, the poor dear, turned back to me, undecided between being delighted and absolutely confused. “You did?”

“Yes, if that’s alright with you?” I asked tentatively. “I know it’s a little short-notice...”

And finally, Twilight’s shock wore off enough for her to regale me with a raised eyebrow and a wonderfully playful smile. “A little short-notice?”

Pinkie Pie spoke before I could, nearly shoving me to the side as she walked straight past Twilight and into the mansion, carrying with her several boxes of food. “I’m gonna go put these in the kitchen!” she exclaimed, walking down a hallway to the left, Sweetie Belle and her two little crusader friends following behind. “The part-ay is her-ay!”

Twilight spun around. “Wait! That’s not where the… kitchen… is.”

Additionally, she thought, that wasn’t even a real rhyme, but she decided there were more pressing matters than telling Pinkie that.

Applejack, carrying her own sets of pies, let out a weary sigh. “I’ll go get ‘em,” she muttered before turning to Twilight and nodding her head. “ I’m Applejack. Nice to meet’cha.” She nodded towards me. “Heard plenty about you from Rarity here.”

“Oh?”

My darling could hardly hide her delighted smile. I’d been talking about her? Well, well, well! That did bode well, did it not?

She watched as Applejack marched right into the mansion and when she turned back, she now found herself in the overbearing presence of the Sapphire’s head of security herself.

“Er, hello!” she greeted Rainbow Dash, who in turn crossed her arms and hummed.

“So you’re Twilight Sparkle, huh?” asked Rainbow, who clearly had no manners whatsoever. She looked Twilight up and down as if we were in a line-up from work and grunted approvingly. “Not bad!” She turned to me, and I still wonder how she failed to light up in flames under my fiery glare. “Not bad at all, Rares!”

“Yes, yes!” I said quickly, stepping forward in an attempt to put some distance in between Twilight and this heathen I called a friend. “I told you she was fabulous! My taste in friends is impeccable—” I glared at Rainbow once more. “Most of the time.”

Rainbow Dash replied with a hearty laugh. “Love ya too, Rares!” she lied through her teeth, strolling into the mansion like she owned the damn place and leaving Twilight and me alone.

“You know, Rarity, a warning might have been nice,” Twilight noted.

“Oh, Twilight, you know me! I live in the moment, and besides, wouldn’t want you to spend the holiday alone what with Lady Celestia being gone, hmm?”

Twilight smiled.

Briefly.

“Wait,” she said, frowning, “how do you know that Lady Celestia isn’t here?”

An expletive I will spare you from voicing rang in my mind.

“How... How do I know she—?” I stumbled over my words, grasping at straws. “I—! Well, darling, dearest, if she were here, you wouldn’t have let six complete strangers barge into the mansion, now would you?”

She stared me down for an eternal second until a blush tinged her cheeks.

“Good point.”

She cleared her throat and stepped to the side, inviting me inside the house with a warm gesture. There always was some sort of thrill to the idea of welcoming your crush inside your home, and it certainly helped that I seemed so taken aback by it all. Every step I took was filled with trepidation, and well, she could hardly blame me! Such an imposing mansion! It made sense I’d be more than impressed!

She didn’t like to assume, and she never would, but she was sure this was the first time I’d ever set foot in such a lofty place.

“So? What do you think?” she asked after closing the door.

My only reply was a nervous laugh. My hands, she noticed, were balled into fists, and my earlier cheer had all but vanished. Concern awashed her entirely. She’d never taken me to be someone who could be quite literally paralyzed by interior design!

“It’s a lot to take in?” she ventured, and relaxed when I finally came to.

“Yes! Yes…” I said, turning to her with an embarrassed smile. “Quite a lot, yes.”

“Twilight?!”

Twilight winced at Flint’s voice booming through the halls. Right. She was not alone, was she? A little detail that had slipped her mind.

“I’m in the lobby, Flint!” she called out, embarrassed and turning around just in time to see me looking more than a little stricken.

“Flint?” I asked, stepping back with alarm.

“Don’t worry! He’s the Lady’s butler!” she quickly explained and put on her best smile when in came Flint Sparks, a rag on his shoulder and a scowl on his face.

“Twilight, who on earth are… are…”

Very few words left his lips when his eyes found me, and though I usually revel in leaving others speechless, this was not one such case. Twilight, however ... my poor, darling, dense girl was nothing but pleased. Yes, I was a beauty, thank you very much! What pride she felt, like a child being told she’d done well on a test.

“Flint!” she exclaimed, stepping beside me. “This is Rarity. She’s a friend of mine. Her sister is the little girl I tutored in magic a few months ago, remember?”

His beady brown eyes shot between us two, showcasing a truly spectacular range of emotions from surprised to confused to overjoyed to upset. Eventually, he set his gaze on mine and wordlessly conveyed a sentiment oft expressed to me as a misbehaving child.

Rarity, he said with his eyes, what in blazes are you up to?

“Flint!” I exclaimed, stepping forwards and extending my hand. “What a pleasure meeting you! How do you do?”

He stared at me, this man who’d spent many a day covering up my childhood disasters, and made a choice.

“I am well, Miss Rarity,” he said, shaking my hand and interlacing himself in the tangled web of lies that threatened to trip me very, very soon. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Flint, Rarity and her friends brought us some food for tonight!” Twilight continued. “Why don’t I—”

“Why don’t you go find our other guests,” he interrupted politely, his eyes still on me, “while Miss Rarity tells me what she would like for dinner?”

Twilight nodded her head. “All right.” She turned to me with a grin. “Have fun!”

“Oh, we will,” Flint said in an absolutely non-threatening way that made it absolutely threatening. He gestured towards a nearby hallway. “After you, Miss.”

After me, indeed.

Now, as much as I’m sure you’d like nothing more than to know how that conversation went, I fear I shall have to dash your expectations away. There are rather more important things I’d like to discuss, and we will have time later to explore the nuances of our relationship.

Suffice to say, as pleased as he was to see me, he was decidedly less pleased by the circumstances surrounding our meeting.

“Well, really!” I think I said. “I don’t know why everyone has to act like I’ve done something wrong!”

“Don’t you think, child,” he replied, “that might be indicative of something?”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

“What did the Missus always say? Lying isn’t befitting of a lady.”

I laughed. “And neither is judging others, yet here we are, Flint darling. Here we are.”

And so on and so forth in a discussion that really didn’t matter. All that mattered, you see, was that Twilight Sparkle was having a wonderful time with all of us.

Dinner had been a much more jovial affair than she’d prepared herself for during the day, and it was her great honor to sit at the head of the table and have me sit right next to her in a chair that, incidentally, I was not wholly unfamiliar with. We spoke about everything and nothing at all, but mostly about my sister and her little friends who insisted on being the center of attention.

After dinner was done and the children went off to explore the gardens, Twilight roped us all into the living room to do something she’d not been able to do recently.

Decimate others at Word Scramble.

Which is why I intelligently decided to watch rather than play.

You can’t be humiliated if you don’t play at all, no?

Furthermore, I couldn’t really complain. It was much more interesting to play with Twilight, you see, since she’d been so kind to rest her back against the couch I was lying on and allowed me to practice tressing her hair.

“You’re a security guard?” she asked Rainbow, somehow managing to focus on my friends despite me being right there next to her. It was highly impressive.

“Yeah,” Rainbow explained, trying to find a new word to put down after having been told that K-E-W-L-E-S-T did not count as a real word. “I keep our, uh, employees safe from weirdos.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow. “Safe from weirdos? What kind of establishment do you work for?”

“Errr…”

“Retail!” I interjected from the couch, which is technically accurate, thank you very much. “You know how that goes! Some clients hardly have respect for people providing a service! Isn’t that right, Applejack?”

Applejack grabbed a new word tile. “Eeeyup,” she said.

“And you sell…?” Twilight prompted, eager to know all of my friends.

“Apples! Just about everything to do with apples. The family farm sells the best ones from here to Trottingham.”

“Yep! She’s the only apples I buy for the bakery!” Pinkie added, taking a bite out of her apple pie as a show of evidence.

Twilight nodded severely, storing the information in her mind for later use. She licked her lips and prepared herself for the question she’d most wanted to ask.

“And how did you all meet Rarity?”

A stilted silence swept over the room, my three friends blinking at her like a herd of deers caught in a headlight of passing train. You see, one way or another, all three of my friends had met me through the Sapphire Carousel. Pinkie, by virtue of being Lady Luna’s favorite caterer; Applejack, by virtue of her brother being a co-worker; and Dash, by virtue of being one of the few women around who enjoyed nothing more than, as she says, throwing down with creeps.

I intercepted. “Through my job.”

“Your seamstress job?” Twilight enquired.

“Yes,” I said with a smile.

“Yep!” Pinkie added. “She made a dress for me!”

“K-e-w-l totally counts as a word!” Rainbow grumbled, and then looked up. “What? Oh! Uh, yep!”

“Eeyup,” Applejack said, carefully putting down the letters I-A-R next to an L on the board.

Twilight deflated, looking over her tiles. “Darn. I was going to use that L for one of my words. Hm… Oh! Applejack, that’s a great idea!” With great delight, she put down the word G-O-B-E-M-O-U-C-H-E. “There! That’s twenty points for me!”

Rainbow was appalled. “That is totally made-up!” She looked around and gestured towards the open-book lying face down on the floor. “Pass me the dictionary!”

“Aren’t all words made-up, though?” Pinkie asked.

“Gobemouche,” Rainbow said with appalling pronunciation. “Aw man. It is a word. A fly-eater? Oh, wait, no. A silly or credulous person.” She furrowed her brow. “It’s a foreign word, though! Does that even count?!”

“While you figure that out, I’m going to go get my wine refilled in the kitchen,” I said, getting up from the couch and fetching my glass from a nearby table.

“Do you need me to go with you?” Twilight asked.

“Oh, stars, no, I’ll be perfectly fine,” I said. “Only come fetch me if I’ve been gone for an hour!”

Though she wanted to come with me, Twilight forced herself to remain with the others. She didn’t want to be rude to them, and she still had enough wine in her glass that she couldn’t justify going to the kitchen for a refill.

Perhaps she could discreetly finish it all in one gulp?

“How did you meet Rarity, Twilight?” Applejack asked, fixing my beloved with her gaze and interrupting her from a very poor choice.

“Oh, er, I met her at the station near here. King’s Pike,” she replied. “I was waiting for the train, and she was sitting next to me and she…” She drifted of, unsure of how to continue her sentence. She wanted to say that she and I had a conversation, but what we had wasn’t so much a conversation as it was… a very strange thing.

“And she…?”

“Well, she told me the story about the boy who died there, and that’s how we started talking.”

Applejack blinked. “...That’s one way to start a friendship, I reckon.”

A question drifted into Twilight’s head, harmless and innocent, and finding herself in front of my friends, she could hardly stop herself from asking it.

“Do you know where Rarity’s workshop is?” she asked. “I’ve been meaning to visit it, but she…” She licked her lips. “She never talks about it? Is it because she works for a private contractor?”

Applejack faltered. “I ‘spose you could say that,” she said, another lie that wasn’t technically incorrect. “A lot of her dresses are for a private contractor, but not all of ‘em.”

Twilight couldn’t hide her disappointment. “Oh.”

Applejack, in return, made a choice.

“Ah, dangit. I’ll give you the address and you can go visit her anyway,” she said. “It’s in the Lunar Distr—”

“Uhm, AJ?” Rainbow loudly interrupted, staring at her friend as though she’d lost her mind.

“That’s private, silly!” Pinkie replied next.

“You don’t have to be honest about everything!” Rainbow added.

“What?” Applejack shot back. “There ain’t nothing wrong with giving her the address to Carousel Boutique!”

And, for all intents and purposes, there really was nothing wrong with it. It was simply her way of alleviating the guilt of keeping up with my lies.

Adding a harrumph as a further measure, she turned back to Twilight and cleared her throat. “So, as I was saying, it’s in the Lunar District by—”

“Actually,” Twilight interrupted, raising her hand after having seen enough from my friends to make her next choice. “It’s fine, Applejack. I’m sure Rarity will tell me herself.”

Speaking of which…

She put down her tiles and got up from the floor, dusting herself off.

“What? Where are you going?” Pinkie asked, waving a tile into the air. “I was just about to put my word down!”

“I’ll be right back! I’m going to find Rarity,” Twilight quickly said, grabbing her glass of wine. It had been ten minutes since I’d left, after all. “I think she really did get lost.”

However, to Twilight’s surprise, I was not in the kitchen.

The only person she found was Flint.

“Flint!” she exclaimed, holding her still-full glass of wine. “Where did Rarity go?”

“Where did she go?” he repeated. “I haven’t seen her.” His tone shifted ever so slightly, from at-ease to all but. “I’ll go look for her, if you want.”

“No, no! I’ll go!” Twilight blurted out, telling herself it was to avoid inconveniencing Flint and not because she wanted time alone with yours truly. “She probably got lost. I’ll go find her.”

About five minutes later, Twilight Sparkle truly regretted bringing the glass of wine with her, and she wished it weren’t so costly so she could simply throw it away without much guilt. Thus, she had no choice but to carry it around with her as she made her way across the expansive estate, poking her head into every room.

“Rarity!” she called out, making her way upstairs to the second floor where one could find the bedrooms. “Are you lost?”

“Yes, I am!” said no one, because honestly that was a silly question and as Twilight made her way into the hallways, she wondered why she’d even asked it in the first place.

“Raaaaarity!” she called again, louder now, and her search was finally rewarded in the shape of a yelp in the distance. “Rarity?”

“Coming! Coming!” I called out from the beyond, the alarm in my tone jolting my beloved.

With determined steps, she pressed onwards and turned the corner just in time to find me in front of a chest of drawers, slamming the topmost shut.

“Rarity?” she asked, confused by my actions.

“Twilight!” I stammered, practically jumping away from the furniture. “Darling, I—”

“What were you doing?” she asked me as soon as she reached me, a severity now present in her voice. This was Lady Celestia’s house, after all, and she couldn’t allow it to be disrespected. “Were you looking through the Lady’s things?”

“What?! No! Me?! Never, no! Twilight!” I exclaimed, and Twilight’s concern melted away at my clear horror. “I was—! The bathroom key! I was merely looking for the bathroom key! Flint said it was upstairs in the first drawer!”

“Oh,” Twilight said.

Though her brain wanted to point out that there were bathrooms downstairs, she simply accepted what I said as true. After all, I had said it, and she had no reason not to trust me.

“Sorry about that,” she said, trying to figure out why the bathrooms would be closed at all. She opened the topmost drawer and looked it over, finding it a little bit of a mess. Papers moved about, receipts blurred out, and blue bedroom key on top of it all.

But no sign of the bathroom key.

“It’s all right! The feeling’s passed anyway,” I said, grabbing my empty glass from atop the chest and regaling her with a dashing smile. “Shall we go back to the others?”

She nodded, closing the drawer and stepping back. She intended on saying something else, particularly something along the lines of asking me to relieve her of her wine, but her attention was drawn instead towards something else we were standing in front of.

A door.

And not just any door, mind.

“Twilight?” I asked. “Are you all right?”

Her eyes drifted down towards the doorknob and the little silver bracelet that hung from it.

“This was her room,” she stated.

“Pardon?” I asked next.

“This room,” she repeated, looking at me. “This was her room. You know, Lady Celestia’s former protegée. The prost—”

“The sex-worker, you mean?” I asked. “This was her room? Fancy that!” There was a pause in my speech. “Have you been inside?”

“No,” she replied, and then confessed. “I’ve wanted to, but I don’t want to be rude.” There was a certain longing in her voice, a burning curiosity that refused to be extinguished despite the multiple waterfalls crashing down upon it. She stepped closer to the door and rapped her fingers against it, as if it might open to her touch. “I wonder what she’s doing.”

“Twil—”

“Or who she is.”

“Who knows, darling,” I said. “It’s a big city, after all! For all we know, you might have made her acquaintance already! She could be anyone!” She didn’t notice the strain in my voice as I made a choice. “For all we know, she could be me.”

She turned to me, brow furrowed.

“What?”

“For all we know,” I repeated, “she could be me.”

It was a visceral reply, what followed next. Not cruel in its intent, not… not meaning to be disrespectful, simply coming from a place of ignorance, but one could not deny it was visceral.

“No,” she said. “You can’t.”

If I seemed struck, again, she did not notice.

“Why not?” I asked.

And again, as I’ve come to learn, Twilight Sparkle is anything but tactful.

“Because you wouldn’t,” she said innocently, and just as fast, just as hard, did her words strike her back. Because you’re not one of them, she’d wanted to essentially say, a fact that felt grounded in the logic she’d been raised with, and yet…

Wasn’t right.

To hear it said aloud, it felt… uncomfortable.

Maybe it was our own conversation we had on this woman after Lady Luna’s presence at dinner. Maybe it was the fact that somehow, deep inside, she knew. Maybe it was a plethora of things.

I suppose it doesn’t matter what it was save for the fact that it made her feel… wrong.

“Ah,” I replied.

“Wait,” she said next, prompted by her own conflict or by my expression, I do not know. Maybe both. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just…”

“Y’all sure do like taking your sweet time, huh?”

Like a crack of a highly convenient whip, Applejack’s voice startled us both into jumping three feet away from each other. We turned around to find my friends all clustered together at the end of the hallway, and to Twilight’s dismay, our conversation was clearly over.

Between us two, at the very least, as it certainly hung over her like a stormcloud during the next hour. Though we’d spent the night practically glued to the hips, now we spoke focused on others instead, avoiding the awkward haze that surrounded us.

It wasn’t until later that she finally caved in.

“I win again!” Applejack exclaimed, brandishing the paper with their tallies like a victory award.

Rainbow sighed, lying down on the floor and glaring at the ceiling. “Aw man…”

“I thought you were supposed to be unbeatable, sugarcube,” Applejack said to Twilight as a well-meaning jab.

“I thought so too,” replied Twilight, frustrated by her loss and by the fact that she knew damned well why she was losing.

Rainbow sat back up and slammed her fist on the ground. “Okay! This time, I’m going to wi—Twilight? Where are you going?”

Twilight, now standing up, smiled uncomfortably at the two women. “Er. I forgot I need to tell Rarity something. Why don’t you play a round without me?”

She looked around and saw me sitting by the corner of the room, my attention completely taken by whatever animated tale Pinkie was regaling me with. She made her way over to us, feeling confident in her decision, and immediately regretted it when calling my name utterly killed my conversation with Pinkie.

“Yes?” I asked, a little too bluntly.

Twilight was a brave girl, however.

“Uh, Pinkie? Can I talk to Rarity alone for a moment?” she asked and felt some relief when Pinkie gladly acquiesced. It at least meant that Twilight hadn’t upset me enough for me to complain to my other friends.

Once she was gone, she sat down before me and took a breath, wanting to get it over with as soon as possible.

“Rarity, I—”

“Twilight, wait,” I interrupted instead, an almost frenetic pace to my tone, like I’d just come to an urgent realization.

She stared at me. “...Okay?”

My expression changed from cold to… conflicted. “Twilight, I… There’s something important I need to tell you,” I said at length. “I really should have earlier, but…”

“You mean now? Tell me now?” she asked, my tone troubling her. “All right. Do you want us to go to another room or—”

“No, no, not now! Stars, no!” I said, quickly smiling at her to counteract the nerves in my voice. “Today isn’t the right time for that. How about tomorrow? We can meet up at Moonshine Bar again and—”

Twilight grimaced.

“I’m going to be out of town tomorrow, remember? I’m going home.”

“Ah. So you are,” I said. What felt like eternity passed between us before I continued. “Then it’ll have to be when you come back. We can sort out the details later.”

“Right,” Twilight said.

“Right,” I repeated.

Again, that awful awkward cloud settled itself between us.

“What did you want to tell me?” I asked.

Twilight hesitated, wondering if it was worth bringing up again or not. She decided that it was.

“Rarity, uhm, about what you said upstairs about you being… What I said about you not being like that, I—I didn’t mean it like that.”

I didn’t hesitate.

“Yes, you did,” I said, “you absolutely meant it like that.”

She froze up immediately, her emotions a mix of defensiveness and guilt, and though she opened her mouth to try and defend herself, I was far too quick.

“You absolutely did mean it like that, Twilight,” I said with disarming kindness, leaning forwards and placing my hand on her knee, “but it’s not your first thought that counts. It’s what you do about it that does.” I then allowed her a blessed reprieve by grinning. “And judging by the fact that you’ve lost twice at Word Scrabble, I think you’ve really been thinking about your actions a lot, hm?”

“I—I was letting Applejack win! That’s all!” she protested, but her smile betrayed her real feelings.

A return to normalcy had been granted for now, at the very least, and as we continued to speak of this and that, our little… thing became a thing of the past.

Sweetie Belle and her friends eventually came back and joined in with the board games, until eventually one by one they fell asleep next to Rainbow Dash, the poor woman still hopelessly losing at Word Scramble.

“Well, all in all, I think tonight was a tremendous success,” I said, using what little telekinesis I had to levitate my sleeping sister up off the ground onto the couch.

“It was!” Twilight agreed. She looked around, took in the scene, and then turned to me. “I’m glad you came, Rarity,” she said with an almost intimate sincerity. “This was a much better way to spend the holiday than reading books all alone in my room.”

“I’m glad I came back, too, darling,” I said. “Spending Hearth’s Warming all alone here with grumpy Flint? Can you imagine? What if you ran into him under the mistletoe?”

“Ew!” Twilight exclaimed. She let out a guilty laugh and said, “Can you imagine?”

“Now, now, let’s not be rude,” I said in a hushed whisper. “Or else karma will find you and you’ll be finding him under the mistletoe tonight.”

“Ew!”

“There, there,” I said, patting her knee with my hand. “Look at it on the bright side, dear. At least it won’t count as your first kiss.”

“Count as my fir—Rarity! You’re the only person who thinks that way! Your first kiss counts with whoever it is!” She lowered her voice. “Regardless of their orientation!”

I grabbed my wine and took a sip. “That’s exactly what someone who hasn’t had their first kiss would say.”

“What? But—! I—! But you—!” She groaned and rubbed her forehead. “Why is this even important?”

“Twilight, whyever are you asking me?” I said. “You’re the one making a big deal out of it!”

“You’re the one making a big deal out of it!”

“Twilight.” I put my glass down and reached out for her hand, enveloping it in mine. My gaze did not waver even when she started to blush ever so delightfully. “Twilight, darling, dearest. Do you want me to kiss you and just get it over with?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“No, I know I heard you. I just want to confirm that you heard yourself.”

“I thought it might make you feel better, though honestly maybe you shouldn’t because it will absolutely ruin all future kisses for you! Not a single one would compare.” With a great sigh, I let go of her hand and leaned back. “It was just an offer, dear.”

“Wait,” she blurted out, “I didn’t say no.” A second went by and she raised up her hand in scandalized horror at herself, and at me, and at the fact that she was raising her hand in the first place. “Wait.”

I smiled. “Yes?”

“What if we… What if we do it for research?” she said which frankly was the most Twilight Sparkle thing she’d ever said, and I’d have asked her how on earth she ever managed to seduce a boy if I wasn’t too busy being seduced myself.

Gulping down the last of my wine, I stood up and offered her my hand. “For research it is, then!”

There are things that happen in this world that you aren’t quite prepared for. Events that you rehearsed for in the mirror, in the shower, in the train, and thought you were ready until they happen and you realize you weren’t.

For Twilight, this was one such time.

As she followed me through the mansion’s labyrinth, her fingers interlaced with mine, a single thought burned in her heart.

She was going to kiss me.

For research, of course, clearly, absolutely, but still! It was a heady thought, the idea that something she’d only dreamt of so far was about to happen, and it clouded her from so many questions.

Was I kissing her because I wanted to? Was I kissing her purely for strange philanthropic reasons that included donating kisses? Why was my hand soft and warm? What if she didn’t kiss well? What if she ruined her first kiss?! Or, rather, to be technically correct, her first kiss with a woman, which wasn’t actually her first kiss, but—

“We’re here!” I exclaimed, stepping into the cozy, secluded private library from which hung the single branch of mistletoe as it had every year since a brilliant little child suggested as much to Lady Celestia.

“We’re here,” Twilight repeated, her mind now panicking at a thousand anxieties per hour, so much so that it completely distracted her from focusing on a passing question that slipped into her mind.

In a mansion with over a two dozen rooms, how did I know where the mistletoe was?

A very vital question which she unfortunately could not ponder for long as she was too busy with the fact that I had now placed ourselves right under the dangling plant.

“Now what do we do?” she asked, eloquently.

“First of all,” I said, reaching down into a concealed pocket in my dress and retrieving a worn golden lipstick tube. “We do this.”

Right in front of her eyes, I took the top off my crimson lipstick and slowly put it on, making sure that every single inch of my lips were covered in the red hue Twilight Sparkle couldn’t help staring at. Not because I needed to reapply it, mind, but because much like always, I did terribly enjoy driving her mad.

Once I was done, I put the lipstick away and licked my lips for no other reason than because I could.

“There,” I whispered, tilting my head so slightly. “I daresay we’re all set to kiss now, don’t you think?”

“Kiss for research purposes,” Twilight clarified.

“For research purposes,” I repeated.

“Because kissing a girl is very different than kissing a boy.”

“Oh, stars, yes. It should be very interesting.”

I soon regretted saying that.

“You know what’s also interesting?” Twilight began in a frenetic pace, her mind now locked shut into what I—lovingly, I assure you—call ‘Twilight Mode’ which can also be called ‘Trivia Mode’. “There’s an actual scientific branch reserved for studying kissing called philematology. In fact, a questionable scientific journal I read claimed that kissing for one minute can burn up to twenty-six calories, and it also helps lower your blood pressure. I can’t currently corroborate that, but I feel that—”

“Twilight,” I cut off, stepping up very close to her and forcing her to freeze in place when I put my hand on her waist. “I’m going to kiss you now, all right?”

“Okay!” she said in a high-pitched tone I had no idea she could even reach.

She looked at me, frozen in the frenzy of wanting something very badly but fearing it at the same time, and her poor frayed nerves were not comforted by the fact that I suddenly giggled.

“What’s wrong?” said my beloved soprano.

“Twilight, I hope you don’t kiss with your eyes open,” I teased, and giggled again when she slammed her eyes shut.

“Sorry!”

There were no words to describe what Twilight felt. Try as she might, and try she did, the only thing that could even remotely describe what it felt like to stand there with her eyes closed and wait for my kiss was the word torture.

That’s what it was, and what it became more of when my free hand softly cupped her cheek, the slim fingers sending jolts all over with every gentle caress. Her own hands were at her side, wanting quite desperately to hold on to me but too afraid that trying to grasp me would wake her from this absolutely absurd hallucination she was probably having.

A hallucination that, I assure you, felt very real when my lips touched hers.

It is not my place, dear friend, to tell you whether or not it was everything she imagined, but I can certainly tell you that that’s exactly what it was for me and what it seemed to be for her.

I could sit here, yes, and describe her thoughts, but I could also describe how a kiss that started smooth and soft and careful became decidedly less so with every passing second, with every moment Twilight Sparkle decided she ought to indulge this manic fantasy by pressing me against her, a hand finding my waist, the other my back, and her heart deciding that this was not a dream she was just about to let slip in between her fingers.

Just like with learning, just like with her studies and with magic, just as with everything that she did in life, Twilight was pleased to learn that where kissing was concerned, practice was so much more interesting than theory.

Eventually, it ended, and we pulled apart from each other, our cheeks a matching shade of red and our eyes struggling to meet after such intense research.

“Well…” I said, finding myself breathless. “Well then.”

On her side, Twilight was still struggling to find the words I’d literally stolen from her mouth. They escaped and escaped her, left her only with almost mindless actions, like lifting her hand to her lips and touching them with her fingertips.

I had kissed her.

This was the only coherent thought she could form, the only thing she could think of when she lowered her hand from the lips my own had claimed and found her hand…

Lipstick-free.

“Oh wow, your lipstick didn’t rub off!” she blurted out, her mind trying to find stability by voicing whatever thought crossed her mind.

The sincere surprise in her voice was disarming and endearing all at once, and I couldn’t help a laugh.

“A lady,” I said with a proud grin, “never leaves a mark.”

“I guess not,” she replied with a hint of disappointment.

“So, Twilight! Do tell, what did you think of your first real kiss?”

She stared at me, smitten, in love, delirious. She thought many things of our first-ever kiss, many many things, but I’d toyed with her before and our relationship had always been a back and forth, had it not?
She smiled at me.

“It was okay.”

“Excuse you?!” I gasped, indignant, offended, insulted, and incredibly attracted by her remark and her subsequent laughter. “That kiss was the greatest kiss you are ever going to get, Twilight Sparkle!”

She grinned mischievously, crossing her arms behind her back.

“Well, Rarity, statistically speaking—”

“Twilight Sparkle!” I exclaimed. “Well, you know what?! If tha—” I stopped myself in my drama-filled tracks. “Oh. Oh, I see. I see what’s going on here.”

“Do you?” she asked.

“Yes, I do,” I said, stepping forwards. “You’re just trying to trick me into giving you another kiss.”

“I knew tha—Wait, what?” she said, her smug charisma fading quickly. “Wait! That’s not—! I mean—!”

“Oh, ho, ho, you don’t fool me, Twilight,” I purred, stepping closer again and reveling in watching her step back all the way until she was trapped against a bookshelf. It was everything I ever wanted up until my hands pressed the bookcase on either side of her and her surprised yelp really made things divine. “I would suggest, my darling, that you close your eyes if you want that second kiss.”

And close them she did, not even bothering to hide what she wanted.

How hard it was to keep her breathing steady, to keep her heart from beating out of her chest, and to keep the anticipation from killing her. She waited, and waited, and waited until she was certain a minute had gone by.

“Rarity?” she ventured.
No one replied, and honestly how could I when she opened her eyes to find that though the effects of my charisma remained, my actual self was all but gone.

“Ra… Rarity!” she called out, setting off a string of distant giggles and accompanying footsteps running far away.

Twilight’s cheeks were still flushed when she walked back into the living room, still hot and bothered and certainly a much less composed sight than yours truly who was looking absolutely innocent, sitting on the couch next to her sister and blinking at Twilight.

“Twilight, goodness, are you all right?” I asked, innocently swirling the wine in my glass. “Your face is red!”

“I’m fine, thank you,” she replied shortly, not amused by my terribly amused smile.

“Looks to me someone’s had a bit too many drinks,” Applejack teased. She got up from the floor and bent down to carry her sleeping sister off the couch. “And someone needs to get back home to her own bed.”

And with that, our surprise visit came to an end.

We’d gallivanted long into the night, children had to wake up early to unwrap presents, and I had a long night of lying in bed giggling awaiting me.

One by one, we began to leave, each lingering as long as we could and giving Twilight hope that this wouldn’t be the first and last night my friends would come see her. She liked them tremendously, and it was a thrilling thought to know they might one day be her friends too.

“So, then,” I said, standing under the frame of the entrance door, my arms occupied with carrying my dozing sister, “we’ll meet up when you’re back?”

Twilight nodded. “The seventh at Moonshine Bar. I’ll be there.” An excited, bashful smile graced her lips. “I can’t wait.”

My smile was subdued. “I can’t wait, either,” I said, even if I now debated whether I still wanted to go through with my intentions. That night, that kiss, her… To have her so close now and to potentially lose it all?

It was a choice I didn’t want to make.

“In any case,” I continued, pushing away the thoughts in favor of revelling in a perfect night, “I shall take my leave before Sweetie Belle wakes up and demands to stay longer.”

That would be fine, Twilight wanted to say.

She didn’t. She would later be glad she didn’t. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

“All right,” she said instead, standing awkward under the door she didn’t want to shut. She still had so many things she wanted to say, to ask, and ninety-eight percent of them related to our little kiss in the library.

“And about that second kiss,” I said.

Her entire body snapped alert when I stepped closer to her, taking one hand away from Sweetie to grab hers so as to pull her close enough that I could leave a kiss on her cheek. I pulled back as quick as the kiss and stepped back, adjusting Sweetie’s position and admiring the stunned woman.

“Happy Hearth’s Warming, Twilight.”

“Happy Hearth’s Warming, Rarity,” she replied, watching with a full heart as I turned around and walked away from her, from our kiss, from the mansion, and from a past that simply wouldn’t stay where it belonged.

You see, dear friend, my night ended there, but Twilight’s? Twilight’s night, well…

It was not over yet.

Picture, if you will, my Twilight closing the door and leaning against it, a hopelessly smitten smile on her lips as she pressed her forehead on the door and sighed.

What a night! What a perfect way to spend her last day in Canterlot before going home to see her family. It was almost midnight, too, yet she could not bring it in herself to pack, to sleep, to do anything else but think of me.

And she did think of me all the way up until the loud ringing of the doorbell startled her out of her scandalous thoughts.

She blinked at the door, confused. Who could be visiting at this time of the night?

She opened the door and peered outside to see no one but dearest Fluttershy looking very, very pale.

“Fluttershy!” she exclaimed, her surprise quickly shifting to concern. “Fluttershy, what’s wrong?”

She replied as if stuck in a trance, the words clung in the woman’s throat. “Twilight, uhm, I, my dinner, and I—” She looked back towards the main gate, clutching her chest. “Twilight, I think I just saw…”

“Saw? Saw who?” my darling asked, her concern only growing as she looked out into the darkness with wary eyes. “Is someone following you? Come in, come on.” She ushered Fluttershy in, closing the door and making sure to lock it, and then turned to her friend. “What’s wrong, Fluttershy? Who did you see?”

Fluttershy stared at her and made a choice.

“No one, Twilight,” she said with a nervous smile. “I think it was just a mistake.”

Or was it? She certainly didn’t seem to think so when the doorbell rang again less than a minute later, sending the poor girl a few feet into the air.

“Who keeps ringing at this hour?!” Flint boomed, walking into the foyer hung-over, annoyed, and having spent an entire night debating whether to lie to his employer or not.

“Flint,” Twilight said immediately, “I think someone might be after Fluttershy.”

“What?!” Fluttershy gasped. “No, it’s—”

“Whoever it is,” Flint grumbled, walking to the door, unlocking it and swinging it open, “is going to have to explain themse—” His insolent remark was strangled in his throat at the sight of Lady Celestia herself, beaming at the three of them and wearing a lovely lavender dress. “L-Lady Celestia!”

“Heavens!” she exclaimed, delighted. “What a reception!”

She stepped into the room and greeted them all, giving the two girls a kiss on the cheek and Flint a hug.

“I thought you were at a dinner in Trottingham, Lady Celestia,” Twilight said, surprised to see her there so early.

“I was! A lovely dinner, too, but I wasn’t able to stay long at all,” she explained. “Something’s happened and the Mayor asked to see me tonight.” She rolled her eyes theatrically. “Her timing was never the best.”

“Yours is, my Lady,” Flint said, severe. He looked to Twilight and Fluttershy for confirmation as he spoke. “It seems Fluttershy is being follow—”

“No!” Fluttershy boomed, her complete and uncharacteristic shift in attitude startling all present. Realizing this, she clenched her hands before her chest and smiled nervously. “It’s fine, really. It was just my imagination.” She turned to the Lady. “It’s nice to see you, Lady Celestia. Happy Hearth’s Warming.”

“...And you, Fluttershy,” Lady Celestia cautiously said, her tone matching what Twilight was thinking.

What had that been all about?

Flint cleared his throat. “My Lady,” he said, “didn’t you have to go see the Mayor?”

The Lady blinked. “I did? Oh, goodness, I did! Yes!” She clapped her hands together and looked around, her mind seemingly far away from whatever had just happened. “I came back here to get my notebook! Can you go get it, Fli—”

“I’ll go,” Twilight said, cutting her off, grasping Fluttershy’s hand. “It’s in your office, isn’t it?”

The Lady shook her head. “But I want to hear about your night! Flint can g—”

“I insist, Lady Celestia,” Twilight said, and rather unsubtly gestured towards Fluttershy. “Fluttershy can come with me.”

Understanding flashed through Lady Celestia’s eyes. She relented and nodded them along.

“Don’t take too long, then.”

Through the mansion did Twilight drag Fluttershy, all the way up to the second floor where they could not be heard. Once she was sure they were alone, Twilight spun around and fixed Fluttershy with a worried gaze.

“Fluttershy,” she said, “what’s wrong?”

“Twilight, please,” replied the woman, quietly yet firmly, “I don’t want to talk about it. Please understand.”

A few moments passed, my darling’s fists closing and opening, until she relented. Another thing she was being shut out of, it seemed. Another secret, another depth denied, but like with all the others, Twilight told herself she’d find out eventually.

“All right.” She relaxed her shoulders and looked around, finding Celestia’s office in the distance. “The Lady’s office is over there. Let’s get the notebook and go back down.”

The Lady’s office was just as Twilight always found it. Everything in it was pristine and perfectly in its place, except for the assorted objects on the desk. Those were a mess, and yet even that mess seemed perfectly organized.

Fluttershy waited by the entrance while my darling strode all the way through the room and planted herself firmly behind the Lady’s desk. She scanned it, trying to find the familiar purple notebook the Lady oft carried around. She moved the things all about, levitating papers and wrappers and pens into the air, until finally she found it beneath a large manilla folder.

“Did you find it?” Fluttershy asked.

“Yes,” Twilight replied, putting everything down on desk and grabbing the notebook.

Once that was done, she tasked herself with trying to re-organize the desk, looking it over until her eyes landed on a blue-framed photograph on it.

I doubt you, dear friend, remember it, but Twilight did.

It was the framed photograph that had been removed from the reading room, leaving behind an imperfection in the otherwise perfect mansion. There it was, the elusive missing link, and with just one glance at it, Twilight knew why it had been taken off the wall.

Everything else blurred into the background. Fluttershy calling to her, the notebook in her hands, the Lady still waiting.

With fingers that almost trembled, she reached down and took the frame, lifting it up and coming face-to-face with the most damningly lovely portrait she’d ever seen.

A beautiful photograph of a younger Lady Celestia swinging on a swing-set, her eyes sparkling with a joy Twilight hadn’t ever seen in her. Her left hand gripped the swing chain tightly while her right hand occupied itself with a vital task.

Holding the thirteen year-old purple-haired girl sitting on her lap, the child laughing without restraint.

There she was, clear as diamonds, the great mystery of Lady Celestia’s mansion.

The name left her lips without her even realizing it.

“Rarity?”

“What?” Fluttershy asked, the nervous eyes now alert. “What did you say?”

As if it were burning her, Twilight put the frame down on the desk and stepped back.

No.

It couldn’t be me.

And yet, there I was, or seemed to be, and it didn’t make sense, and yet it did, and how dizzying were her thoughts until they slammed to a halt when a voice entered the room.

“Twilight! You said you wouldn’t take long!”

Dazed, she looked up to find Lady Celestia in the room. She was speaking, too, but she couldn’t rightly tell what she was saying. Something or other about her notebook, and time, and so many things that didn’t matter or mattered to much.

“My, look at what a mess my desk is!” the Lady said after Twilight had given her the notebook. She organized it quickly, startling Twilight again with a gasp. “Oh, here it was!”

Like a sword brandished into the air, Lady Celestia held a single, golden, familiar tube in the air for Twilight and Fluttershy to see.

“What’s that?” Fluttershy asked, intrigued.

“Lipstick,” the Lady replied, completely missing Twilight’s widened eyes and her sharp intake of breath. “And not just any lipstick, but a magic lipstick.”

“Magic lipstick?” Fluttershy queried.

The Lady nodded, excited. “It’s been imbued with a spell I created! It… Well, it’s easier to show you.”

In a practiced motion Twilight had seen before, the Lady opened the tube of crimson lipstick and applied it on her lips in a slow motion. When she was done, all under Twilight’s penetrating gaze, she lifted three pale fingers, kissed them and turned them around to show her pristine skin.

“A lady,” she said, “never leaves a mark.”

And Twilight Sparkle went from thought to thought.

To Flint’s reaction when he met me.

To Fluttershy’s acting as though she’d seen a ghost.

To my defense of Celestia’s former ward.

To Rainbow and Pinkie’s reaction at Applejack telling her where I worked.

To me never speaking of my work, never letting her visit my home.

To the sewing needle she’d found on the chair.

To the L.R. scrawled over the children’s cup, the formal title of the mansion’s third lady.

To the most damning thing she’d ever been told.

I did tell you I’d make it worth your while, did I not?

“Twilight?” Fluttershy asked, distant past the haze that now made up Twilight’s mind. “Twilight, are you all right?”

The Lady’s voice came next, sharp and cutting and tainted by an entirely new light. “Twilight, you’re pale!”

“I… I feel sick,” she replied which was not altogether a lie, but was enough to convince Lady Celestia and Fluttershy that she needed help.

Offers of taking her to her room were thrown at her, but she refused.

She could do it alone, she said, she needed time alone, please, and so did they comply. Goodbyes that didn’t matter were exchanged, Fluttershy following Celestia down into the foyer while Twilight?

Twilight Sparkle did what she did best.

A thundering crack left the room, and in less than an instant she was somewhere else. She’d been taught it was rude to teleport without warning, but she’d also been taught that lying was rude and no one seemed to care for that lesson, did they?

She was somewhere else entirely, though not her room, not the kitchen, not the study or the library, but a hallway.

A hallway with a chest of drawers and a very haunting door.

She turned to the chest and opened the first drawer I’d earlier been looking through, its contents still a mess but above it all, as if for her to see, a blue bedroom key.

It surprised her when she took it. She half-expected doing so would wake her from this dream.

She turned to the door, her eyes landing on the bracelet hanging from the doorknob. She grabbed it and let it fall to the floor, not really noticing it had fallen.

She tried to open the door.

It didn’t budge.

The key burned her skin, her soul, her mind and in an almost mechanical fashion, as though it was someone else controlling her body, she lifted it and felt her heart stop when it slid right in.

Only then did the fear settle in.

Only then when all she had to do was turn the key to find out, only then did she have to ask herself the real question burning her every thought.

Did she want to know for sure?

All she had to do was just a simple twist.

Well, you'll forgive me for being cruel, for that is who I am, as I tell you next that Twilight stood there, took a breath and...

Darling, you really didn't think I’d leave you dangling off the edge like that? Don’t be silly. Whyever would I do that?

It’s so much easier to simply push you off the cliff.

There we were, she and I, sitting at a window table in the bar, each cradling distinctly non-alcoholic drinks. I’d offered to have our usual when we met up again weeks later, to have a cup of chocolate milk with spicy rum, but she refused.

She wanted coffee, please. Black with no sugar.

“My! Someone’s had a difficult week?” I’d asked, and she’d smiled thinly, wrapped in her coat that seemed to act like a barrier around her.

“You could say that.”

I myself had tea. Something simple and sweet, my mind too preoccupied with the oddly quiet woman in front of me. Gone was the Twilight Sparkle I’d seen during the holiday, gone was the giggling woman I’d kissed, and back was the Twilight Sparkle that initially drew me in and now concerned me.

Quiet. Reserved. Intense.

To all my long questions she only offered short replies.

To all my vivid tales she only offered quiet nods and hums.

To everything I did she was distant, her eyes barely meeting me and too lost in the life out in the street.

She was tired, I thought. The trainride from the North was a long, difficult affair and it had worn her out. She missed her family, I surmised next. To go home after so long and to be back to a life one still hadn’t adjusted to was painfully difficult. Her heart was filled with longing, and it tainted her every move.

I felt selfish for a moment. She missed home, and all I could do was be delighted she was back.

“Twilight,” I asked eventually, once our conversation had dried out when faced with a woman who was clearly keeping secrets. I would know. “Is something wrong, darling?”

She looked out the window for the longest time, her eyes following the passing people and passing cars.

“She spelled out the word liar,” she replied and a lopsided smile curved her lips. “Rainbow did say she was honest.”

I put my cup down.

“Pardon? I think you’ve lost me, dear.”

She glanced at me and then back at the window, her fingers leaving the cup and rapping on the table one, two, three times until she sat up straight and tore her sights away from the window.

I felt naked under her penetrating stare, and for once, I didn’t like it.

“You said you had something to tell me during Hearth’s Warming,” she said, her every word composed, exact, the same. “What did you have to tell me?”

I had my chance. I had my chance to tell her right there and then I didn’t.

It was too terrifying, and even more so when I felt like I was telling an absolute stranger and not my friend.

“I did, but it’s not important right now,” I said, offering an apologetic hasty smile. “I don’t want to assume, but you’re clearly having a hard time now, and whatever I have to say can wai—”

Her words were as cutting as her tone.

“Rarity,” she interrupted, “what did you have to tell me?”

I remember wishing I could leave. I remember knowing that that was it. I remember the sinking impression that somehow I’d finally tripped on my web of lies.

I didn’t know how to answer or where to even start.

Ultimately, it did not matter.

It’s said patience is golden, but Twilight soon learned that patience was for the foolish.

Her expression hardened.

Her eyes on mine, she lifted her hand from the table and dug it into the pocket of her coat. She kept it there for a moment before extracting her fist and not slamming it on the table, no, but certainly not placing it down like a gentle flower.

I didn’t dare ask what was in her hand. I only watched as her palm opened until it was flat on the table and then, less than a second after, it had returned to her coat pocket and left behind a single blue key.

Nothing could have prepared me for that moment.

My entire life I thought nothing would ever be worse than what I went through telling Celestia.

I was dreadfully wrong.

“It’s you.”

Not a question. Not an exclamation.

Simply a fact stated aloud.

I said nothing.

“I didn’t go into your room,” she said next, as though my biggest concern in the moment was that violation of privacy.

I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t. I wanted to place my hand over my mouth, to grab my cup of tea, to do something with it, but instead I ended up crossing my arms over the table and accepting the reckoning I’d invited for tea.

“How did—”

“Lady Celestia has a framed photograph of you on her desk,” she said. “And other context clues.”

“I see.”

It was funny for me. The Lady had a framed photograph of me on her desk. A fact that would have once pleased me now damned me.

I wished I could die. I tell you sincerely and honestly, I wished I could drop dead and not have to deal with the hell I was dealing with. Oh, if only looks could kill, Twilight would have already granted my wish.

She was not so kind. Like with everything else she wanted answers from, she took her time picking me apart.

“You lied.”

Not a question. Not an exclamation.

Simply a fact stated aloud.

“Twilight, please, you have to unde—”

“You lied to me, Rarity.”

Silence suffocated me again, and Twilight didn’t seem to feel inclined to save me from it. She simply sat there, looking away from me and back towards the window.

How many people had warned me? How many people would shake their heads at me and remind me they had?

“I’m sorry, Twilight.”

She neither replied or looked at me.

“When did you find out?” I managed to ask next.

“Hearth’s Warming Eve,” she said, her eyes fixed on a couple kissing outside. “After you left.”

My God, I thought. Since Hearth’s Warming Eve?

What now? What else could I say? What could even be said? It all felt muddied and clear at the same time. She’d known for over two weeks now, and this explained everything about her attitude.

This wasn’t a Twilight Sparkle who’d just found out, one who dazed and confused and who I could still sway and relax with soothing words.

It’s said you only need a night’s sleep to make up your mind on something.

This was a Twilight Sparkle who’d had two entire weeks to process, to think, to accept and to make up her mind on who I was and what she thought of it. All this time, I thought I’d be leading her into my carefully calculated conversation when really it was the opposite that was true.

Outwitted and lost, I deferred to her.

“What now?”

She found it generous enough to look at me again, sitting up straight in her chair and folding her hands on the table.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried to tell you.”

“When? I don’t remember you trying to tell me,” she said, her harsh tone striking a vein.

“I was going to in front of my room. I even asked you to consider the idea that it could be me, and look at how you reacted!”

Hurt flashed through her eyes, and shame as well.

“That’s not the same at all! That’s different!” she protested. “That’s not fair. If you had told me from the beginning, I would have—”

“Well, you know now,” I said, my tone harsh even though I knew I shouldered the larger share of guilt.

Neither spoke.

For a moment, I feared she’d get up and leave.

“You lied,” she whispered, and I looked away, ashamed.

“I know.” I forced myself to look at her. “I… Twilight. It’s not… It’s not an easy thing to say or to deal with. It shouldn’t even matter!”

“Of course it matters!” she shot back. Her tone surprised even herself and she took a breath, choosing her next words with care. “I’d have taken it well.”

“Would you have, Twilight?” I asked her. “Really?”

Her hesitation said enough.

My heart couldn’t bear waiting to see what she had to say, and it seemed neither was she ready to answer.

“I… I’ve been meaning to ask if I can visit your workshop. I’d really like to see your designs,” she said instead, the change in topic strange but welcome. “Applejack mentioned you had one. Carousel Boutique? Would Friday work for you?”

I was caught completely off guard.

She… She wanted to see me again so soon? No asking for time apart, no nothing of the sort? Defensive as I was, the idea that she hadn’t yet made up her mind about me in an unfortunate way was too good for me to risk losing.

“Yes,” I said immediately, knowing full well I had previous engagements on Friday already. I grabbed a pen from my purse and scribbled down the address on a napkin. “Yes, of course. Yes.”

As soon as she had the napkin in her hand, she got up to leave. She was late for her lessons, and she needed some time to think.

I was terrified.

Think about what? Our friendship? Our future? I knew that she knew, but to be deprived of her thoughts was worse punishment than death.

“Twilight!” I called out as she walked away, a desperate last attempt to somehow grasp what was quickly slipping away from me.

She turned to me.

“Yes?”

“I missed you,” I replied. “I really did miss you.”

It felt for the longest time like she wasn’t going to reply. In truth, I was afraid of what she would have to say.

Eventually, her expression softened.

For a flicker of a second, my Twilight was back.

“I really missed you too.”

She was gone after that, leaving me behind to try and figure out where we were supposed to go now.

If I had known…

If I had known things would take that turn, that our relationship would fragment in such a way, I would have never allowed myself to be content with just one kiss.

She always consumed my thoughts, this is painfully true, but it was not the same after that date at the café. Where once I saw a future, now I saw myself clutching the remains of a fading dream.

Twilight Sparkle knew who I was, and it frightened me to realize it was my turn to find out exactly who she was. Where she stood. What she thought of not only me, but my profession and all the values it entailed.

There would be no agreeing to disagree here. No reluctantly relenting and accepting that she liked vanilla ice cream while I preferred strawberry. If she disagreed, if she asked me to change, I would not do so.

She knew that.

I knew it, too.

All that was left was finding out.

I wonder... Do you remember little Silver Blue? We spoke of him once, so long ago now.

The boy who died on a bench, alone and cold.

It was snowing the day that he died, and it was snowing the day I was supposed to meet Twilight again.

As I turned the corner into Pembrook Road, snowflakes descended from the heavens and transformed the street into a beautiful painting, much like the ones you’d find at the Lady’s mansion—white, pristine, clean.

But then I continued to walk, and the further I walked, the more the illusion revealed itself for what it was. The more the brushstrokes of snow became scattered and incomplete, uneven clumps tainted with dirt from the street and the tracks from carriages, bringing into perspective something entirely gray, filthy, and haunting.

At the time, I did not feel so different from Pembrook Road.

I didn’t want to go through with it. I didn’t want to go through with any of it. I loathed the fact that I’d been pushed to it, that something as simple as showing Twilight my shop was forced upon me, something which should have been wonderful turned sour by the circumstances.

I wanted to resent Twilight, and I did to some extent, even if I knew it wasn’t right.

I did what I had to do, I told myself, regarding my secrets and lies.

In fact, I didn’t like her anymore. Whatever silly affections I’d developed were now gone, replaced by the disdain I’d had before ever meeting her. Nevermind that she said that she was just upset over the fact that I lied; I knew what she was really thinking, and it was that I was nothing but a whore. That she was above me.

Better without me, just as the Lady thought she was.

Where before I’d dragged my feet, now they strode briskly down the pavement, the fear and dread weighing on me now masked by righteous fury and indignation. Well, I didn’t need her; didn’t need her approval or validation. I didn’t want her, either. She could go back to the north for all I cared.

Then I turned the corner at Bartow Road and saw her.

There she was, my darling beloved, looking dashing in a lovely coat as she made a show out of levitating two cups of coffee to the amusement of the local butcher’s children. Higher, they asked and the cups floated all the way up to the second floor. Lower, they asked and the cups delicately landed on the floor.

Upside-down, I wanted to step forward and say. Upside-down, diagonally, all around, and watch with delight as she complied. But I didn’t. I was too frightened to find she might no longer indulge me.

“Where you off to, Missus?” one asked. “A magic show?”

“No,” she replied. “I’m going to a shop near here. Maybe you can help me find it?” She took out the napkin where I’d written my address and showed it to the boys. “Carousel Boutique. I—” She paused. “I know the owner.”

“Oh!” said a child who oft repeated what he heard from his parents. He turned to his brother. “That’s the whore’s shop, innit? The one who did the dress for Honeydew?”

I quickly hid behind the building’s corner, buried my face in my hands and wished to die.

“It’s right near here, Missus! We play near it loads of time! You can’t miss it,” I heard the other say. “Are you a client of hers?”

All I heard as I pressed myself against the wall was Twilight’s reply. A startled and forceful no. No, no, no.

I’m not sure how long I stayed there. Hours or minutes, it all blurred together, the passage of time marked only by the snow falling on my boots. I held out my hand to catch the snowflakes and then watched as they melted and slid off my hand and onto the ground.

Gods.

When I peeked around the corner again, Twilight and the children were gone.

I took a breath and went on my way.

Carousel Boutique, for better or worse, stood out among the other shops along Bartow Road.

Colorful and vibrant with fresh paint, it was quite unlike the other shops around, each and every one reflecting the passage of time in the cracks in the wall, the dirt in the paint, and the disregard of those who had nothing to prove.

People whispered about my shop once, back when I had only just opened it. Told stories of how Lady Luna had paid for it, or that it was a gift from my more affluent clients. Others still, those who knew of my past, said it had been Lady Celestia herself who’d paid for my pretty, glittering storefront.

I had paid for it, of course. Not that they knew or cared.

I’d spent more money than I could afford on my little boutique and was quite happy with the result, until someone splashed a one-word description of my night job in black paint everywhere it could be splashed upon.

I don’t know who it was. I don’t much care. People walked past my store, whispering and whispering, and as I later found out, expecting the dear Lady of the Sapphire to fix my problems.

It must have surprised them to see that the only one fixing my store was myself, stumbling my way through painting a storefront and cursing the three buckets of paint I accidentally spilled.

Ultimately, what started out as a valiant attempt to show them I didn’t care for their judgement became a sad sight. A sad sight to see me sitting on the ground at three in the morning, my back to the wet walls, and my tears tinted blue from rubbing my eyes with similarly tinted hands.

I supposed it was inevitable I’d think myself stupid. I missed the mansion. I missed how easy it had once been to do things. I even missed Lady Celestia. I thought perhaps I really had made a mistake. I thought I really was what they accused me of. A rich little brat who’d forsaken a better life to try and rebel. A filthy whore.

No wonder they disliked me, I thought.

For days, my boutique remained as it was. Half-painted, the accusations still littered throughout, until the day I got a call from the school informing me my sister had skipped classes. I later found her outside my shop in the company of Spotless Rain, the owner of the local dry cleaners and my only client thus far, both of them dipping brushes into buckets of paints.

“Don’t mind them,” she later said as we painted, throwing a look to the other shops around. “Don’t you let them take your colors away.”

The next time I saw Twilight Sparkle, it was when she was waiting for me in front of my shop front, occasionally throwing glances at Spotless Rain and her daughter Amber, the two of them waiting for me with a small envelope of money.

Amber Rain saw me first.

“Oh, she’s here, momma!” she exclaimed, tugging at Spotless’ apron. She then waved to me. “Rarity!”

I noticed Twilight immediately straightened up, two cups of coffee floating prominently before her.

“Hello!” I greeted, only briefly acknowledging Twilight with a nod and then trying my best to focus on my friend and her daughter.

“Rarity! I’m so sorry, dear, I know you’re closed, but—” She gestured to her daughter and flashed me a toothy smile. “She really can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“Of course! Anything for my best clients,” I said. If only I could thank her for the reprieve she’d allowed me, the few precious minutes where I could put off the inevitable!

I moved to the door, pointedly not making eye contact with the Inevitable, opened the lock, and then stepped aside when the door swung open.

“Ladies,” I said with a gesture.

Spotless and her child wasted no time, hurrying inside the shop wherein Amber could admire my many dresses. Twilight, unfortunately, lingered. Was she too dreading her reason for being there?

We spoke simultaneously.

“Ah, Twilight, goo—” “I brought you coff—”

We both shut up as our words collided and fell into an awkward silence until I spoke up.

“Twilight,” I said with difficulty. “Good morning. It’s nice to see you.”

It wasn’t a lie. Or not entirely a lie, at least.

“Good morning,” she said in return and awkwardly offered one of the cups. “I brought you coffee.”

I accepted it, of course, but didn’t know what else to say besides a thank you. It was hard to find words to say when I was conflicted over seeing her at all.

She glanced to the shop and then back to me.

“May I come in?” she asked, and I appreciated that she did. I debated, for a moment, saying no.

“Yes, of course,” I said instead, putting on my best attempt at a smile. I gestured to the shop. “After you.”

I kept my eyes on her as I followed her in, watching as she looked around my boutique and took in the sights. The garments scattered all around, the designs pasted on the walls, the photograph of Sweetie on the counter, and the closed backdoor labeled with a very clear message.

“Rarity!” Amber called, her mother having propped her up on the counter. “Do you have my dress?!”

“I do!” I exclaimed, putting on a smile and moving to the back of the room, quickly looking through dresses hanging from racks. After a minute, I retrieved a small gala dress, pink and puffy and wonderful, smiling at Amber’s delighted gasp.

“It’s so pretty, Momma!” she exclaimed, tugging on Spotless’ apron, her enthusiasm drawing a smile not only out of her mother, but Twilight too. “Look at it!”

Spotless helped her off the desk and she ran towards me, practically ripping the dress away from me when I handed it to her, then rushing off into my dressing room to try it on.

“Let me know if you need help!” Spotless called out before turning her attention not to me, but to Twilight. “And who’s this? I don’t think we’ve met,” she said to her, then damning me by asking, “Are you a client of Rarity’s as well?”

“No,” Twilight immediately said with such a force that even Spotless was taken aback. Said it with the same distaste she’d said it to those kids in the street, and it was hard for me not to… hurt at seeing how abhorred she was at the idea of me.

“Oh, my mistake!” Spotless said, recovering quickly enough.

“It’s all right,” Twilight replied, trying to save face yet struggling with how to continue, crossing her arms as if hugging herself. “I just… don’t… think I can do... that.”

I restrained the urge to groan if only because Spotless was faster.

“...Commission a dress?” she asked, and I’ll admit I revelled in her horror at realizing what Spotless had meant.

“Oh,” she said, and now she really didn’t want to look at me. “Oh—! I—! Oh.”

Spotless, too, caught on. “Oh, you thought I meant—!” She laughed with gusto, wonderfully amused by it all. “I see! What a reaction!” she teased, approaching Twilight and elbowing her. “I don’t think I could either. Might end up leaving my husband for her!”

Heavens, I loved her. I did dearly love her.

“Now, Spotless, if that’s a concern,” I said, crossing my arms and not caring that Twilight was there, “I do have flexible rates for group sessions.”

I couldn’t help but laugh when her cheeks turned pink.

“Rarity, don’t let Dusty hear you or else he might make us take you up on that!” she scolded, wagging a finger at me. “In any case,” Spotless continued, glancing at Twilight before turning back to me. “Who is this mysterious stranger, then?”

“Err…”

Weeks ago, the answer would have been obvious: A godsend. Now… Well, now, I faltered visibly, unsure of what exactly was the truth. Nevermind that I knew what I still thought of Twilight, what mattered was what she thought of me now.

So, unfortunately, I answered with that. And, even more unfortunately, desperate to amend for her earlier mistake, Twilight stepped in as well.

“She’s just an acquaintance,” I said at the same time as Twilight replied, “I’m a friend.”

We looked at each other in surprise and…

And actually, that’s not entirely accurate.

I looked at Twilight with surprise, whereas she offered me a shocked expression thinly veiled in hurt. Even Spotless was unable to think of a quick-fire way to lighten the mood.

“An acquaintance?” Twilight repeated, and I was tempted to throw back her own unkind commentary on my night job, but I knew I had to pick my battles, especially given that we had an audience.

“No, I meant friend,” I said quickly, a lie that I knew deep inside sounded shallow but was the only thing I could think of to make her stay. I tried to compose myself, offer a laugh that sounded more nervous than amused, and I turned to Spotless, trying to lighten the mood. “See, she was gone on vacation so long, it’s almost like we’re strangers!” When Spotless laughed but Twilight did not, I continued to speak, decisively now, “She’s a friend. A good friend. And a superb mage.”

Spotless took the bait. Or at least I’m telling myself she did. She might have just taken pity on me, but let’s pretend that wasn’t the case.

“A mage? Ooooh!” she exclaimed, turning to the mage. “What can you do?”

As she bombarded Twilight with questions, I used the opportunity to excuse myself under the guise of checking on Amber. I hurried off to the back and into my dressing room, closing the door behind me and leaning my back on it, my hands covering my face.

“Stars help me.”

“Rarity!” Amber shrieked, planting herself in front of me, the darling girl looking like a princess in her frilly dress. “What do yo—” At my anguished expression, her own delight vanished. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing, dear!” I exclaimed at once, moving forwards and kneeling down to her eye-level. “Nothing, nothing at all.” I cleared my throat and focused on her dress, offering a broad smile. “All that matters is this fabulous girl that’s come to grace my humble workshop.”

Her worries quickly faded, and she gasped in delight, giggling and twirling around for my benefit. “Isn’t it pretty?!” she asked, which obviously it was since I had made it. “I look like a princess!”

I tapped her on the nose. “Darling, dearest, you are a princess.”

“I am a princess,” she repeated gravely before giggling again and running out of the room. “Momma, look! Look! I’m a princess!”

In the solitude of my dressing room, I took a minute to calm my nerves and then finally followed her out, finding reprieve at the fact that a somewhat-smiling Twilight was watching Amber flaunt her dress to her mother.

“Rarity, she looks wonderful!” Spotless exclaimed, overjoyed.

“I’m a princess!” Amber exclaimed for what must have been the tenth time before rushing to me, arms lifted up for a hug. “Thank you, Rarity!”

Rather than hug her, however, I took her hand in my own and bowed down to kiss it. “It’s my pleasure, Your Highness,” I said, which again only caused even more delight to the child.

After another five minutes of parading around, Amber finally relented when her mother asked her to go put her own clothes back on. Such a pretty dress should not be worn in the streets, and she didn’t want to have to come back to have me fix it that same day.

Once her daughter was gone, and it seemed like Twilight had discarded any desire to leave, Spotless turned the conversation to me.

“Twilight was just telling me all about her magic abilities!” she exclaimed. “You should have Lady Luna enlist her to help Rainbow Dash with keeping out your trouble clients once she’s done with her studies.”

Twilight’s eyes widened and she turned to me. “Rainbow Dash?” she asked, shocked, before clearing her throat and asking in a much more composed tone. “...She works with you at the Sapphire?”

I froze. “Ah… Yes…”

“Oh,” she said, still in the same measured tone. She seemed intent on wanting to say something else, but instead looked back to Spotless. “Thank you for the suggestion,” she said, politely, “but I don’t think that job’s suited for me.”

“Well, if you ever change your mind, I’m sure Rarity can put in a good word for you.”

Imagine that! Twilight Sparkle working at the Sapphire Carousel! That would be the day, wouldn’t it? The day hell froze over, I thought, and the day Lady Celestia exiled herself in shame, no doubt. Her two protégés working at a brothel! If Lady Luna were petty, she’d never let her forget it.

Regardless, where were we?

Eventually, all good things must come to an end, which in this case was Spotless and her daughter leaving. They paid my fees, gave me many hugs, and after politely telling Twilight it was so nice to meet her, they marched out the door and left me to face what I had wrought.

There we stood, Twilight and I and the silence of the boutique, broken only by the fading chimes of the door bell. What did I even say to her?

“Rainbow Dash works at the Sapphire,” she said, obviously not struggling with words as I was. Twilight Sparkle, my darling beloved, knew exactly what she wanted to say. “You told me you met her through your tailor job.”

“Twi—”

“You lied.”

An accusation, yes, but more than anything a statement of fact that I could not deny. So I didn’t.

I walked over to a rack opposite of where she stood, looked through my garments, and then replied, “Yes.” I forced myself to turn around and look at her. “I’m sorry.”

She cared little for that.

“Applejack called her a liar when we were playing Word Scramble,” she continued, as impassive as she was relentless. “So she knows too. Does she work there, as well?”

“No, but her brother does.”

She said nothing for a moment. Merely took it in for a second that felt eternal.

“Twi—”

“Does Pinkie work there, too?”

“No, she doesn’t, she—”

“Works at the bakery on Seventh Street, where I met you,” she completed. She paused a moment. “Does she know?”

Lord, did I mention already I wanted to die? Because let me tell you, I wanted to die.

“Yes,” I confessed. Yes, yes, just stop, make it stop, please.

Twilight’s expression was ... not grim, but decidedly less than pleased. “I assume Sweetie knows,” she said and finally some sort of emotion laced her voice, in this case sarcasm, “And I’m guessing Sweetie’s friends know, too, right?”

How her face fell when I nodded my head.

Every single person in that household, she realized, including Flint, knew. Everyone knew, but her.

“Uhm. Wow,” she said, hurt. “All right.”

“Twilight, wait,” I pleaded “You don’t understand—”

“Not through any help of yours, no.”

“That’s not fair,” I protested, stamping my foot on the floor. “That’s not fair, and you know it isn’t! Yes, they knew! But what did you expect? Of course they knew! They’re my friends!”

“Yes,” Twilight said, icily, “and I’m just an acquaintance.”

I’ll admit that tears filled my eyes, as did anger, too.

“Leave.”

She stared at me, and though her eyes widened, she said nothing.

“I said leave,” I repeated, the chimes of the door bell starling her when I gestured to the door and it magically swung open. “Because clearly you came here to make us both miserable, so I suggest you leave now that you’ve accomplished your mission.”

“That’s not true!” she protested.

"No? What are you doing, then?" I asked, stepping forward. "What is this? What exactly is your angle here? Because so far it feels like that's all you want to do."

"Me?" she shot back, accusing. "You're the one who said I was an acquaintance!"

Though before I might have tried to defend myself, now I didn't feel inclined to do so.

"Yes, I did! You know why? Because with how you're acting about all this, that's exactly what it feels like we are! Acquaintances!"

She flinched at that, opening and closing her fists.

"You lied," she said, quietly.

I took a breath. "Twilight, I already apologized," I pleaded, desperate. "I'm sorry! I am! I just don't… Why is this so important? Nothing has changed!"

"Everything's changed!" she shot back.

I threw my hands up in the air. "Only because you're letting it!"

"Lady Celestia—!"

"I apologized!"

"And your—!" She faltered. "Your job at the…"

"At the what? At the Sapphire?" I asked, anger bubbling up again. "What about it? That shouldn't matter because it's my businesses, Twilight, not yours. And besides, it's just a job like any other!"

"It's not!" she protested. "I mean, it is, but—!"

"Careful, Twilight," I interrupted. "I would suggest you pick your next words very, very carefully."

And so she spoke with care, "It's not… It's not just a job like any other."

"It is,” I said, and faced with her silence, I made a mistake and doubled down. “It is!”

"Why did you lie about it then?” she demanded, balling her hands into fists. “If you really thought it was just a job, then you wouldn’t have needed to lie to me about it.”

“I’m sorry, Twilight,” I said, trying to keep my cool when faced with a good point, “but I didn’t think you’d understand.”

“I would have tried!” she snapped, and I replied in kind, stepping towards her.

“Oh? What? Like you’re doing now?!” I shot back and gestured haphazardly. “Is this supposed to be you trying to understand? Is it?!”

“That’s not fair! You never even gave me a chance to try and understand.”

“Fine, Twilight. You’re right,” I said, trying not to sound venomous. “You’re right. Forgive me for being so terrible. This is all absolutely entirely my fault. I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with me. I’m sorry I was afraid to tell the student of the woman who shamed me out of her house that I was a prostitute!”

“I’m not Lady Celestia!” she shot back.

“I know that, Twilight!”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Because I care about what you think!” I exclaimed, confessed, whatever you want it to be, but there it was, plainly stated, the worst thing to ever happen to me. For the first time since Lady Celestia, I’d allow myself to care about someone’s opinion so much it hurt to breathe.

Twilight said nothing. I doubt she even knew what to say.

“You’re right,” I said, not angry, not loud, just resigned. “It doesn’t matter what I think, it isn’t just a job.”

Whether I wanted to or not, whether it mattered to me or not, the fact remained it still mattered to the vast majority of the people who walked our city.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Twilight,” I continued as tears stung my eyes. I forced myself to look at her. “I already apologized. I already admitted I lied. As I said, my job is just a job to me, but I realize that doesn’t matter much at this point.”

So I asked her.

“What do you want me to say? What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know,” she said eventually, and I might have laughed under different circumstances. “I just… I’m sorry...” Her voice lowered, took the tone of chastised child, “I really did want to see your shop, but then…”

But then life caught up, no?

“Well, here it is,” I said, gesturing half-heartedly. “Carousel Boutique. I didn’t lie when I said I was a tailor.”

“You said you were a seamstress.”

“It’s all the same thing, isn’t it?”

“Actually,” Twilight said, as if the tension had to be paused so she could quickly offer a fun fact, “it isn’t. According to the definitions of both words, a seamstress is simply one who sews, whereas a tailor specializes in fitting suits and other similar types of clothes. You’re actually more of a dressmaker, if anything.” At my pointed silence, she blushed. “Sorry. I just… Anyway.” She looked around the shop, her eyes scanning the many beautiful dresses lined up on racks. Her eyes alighted on one of my more recent pieces, glittering with interest for a moment as she moved towards it to take it in her hands. “This one is very pretty.”

“...Thank you.” I said, a bit taken aback.

“Did you make it?” she asked, and then quickly said, “Wait. Sorry. No. I don’t know why I said that.”

I smiled. “Actually, a goblin comes in at night and makes all of these and I just take the credit.”

She snorted. “Right. I know you’re being sarcastic, but did you know there’s a fairytale about elves who made shoes for a poor shoemaker?”

I blinked at her. “Sarcastic? Darling, I’m not joking.”

“Yes, you are,” she said, and after a pause added, “Wait, you are joking, aren’t you? Goblins don’t exist.”

“Twilight, don’t invalidate my sister’s species.”

She laughed. “Sweetie isn’t a goblin, Rarity.”

“You’re right,” I sighed, crossing my arms. “She’s more a banshee of the seven hells, but I love her regardless.”

“The little girl from earlier was nice,” she said, trying to move the conversation along as she turned her attention back to the dress she’d liked, trying her best to ignore the elephant we’d invited into the room. “Do you often take commissions like those?”

“Twilight.”

She turned to me, the light-heartedness she’d gained vanishing quickly. I must have sounded rude. It wasn’t my intention. I was simply tired. Tired, and though I loved her, I wanted to be alone.

“I’m sorry, Twilight,” I continued, “but I think I might have to ask you to leave.”

“Oh.” She opened and closed her fists, helpless and surprised at being kicked out after what seemed to be a positive interaction. “I see. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” I said. “I’m just tired is all, and I still have to finish some costumes for a performance tomorrow night.”

In my defense, this wasn’t a lie.

“A performance?” she asked, her eager curiosity apparent despite the awkwardness between us.

I stared at her for a moment, debating what to do. Eventually, I decided that if she really wanted me to be transparent with her, then I would be so regardless of consequence.

My fingertips glowed with magic and a single sheet of paper levitated from my desk and into her hands. A simple purple flyer showcasing a single pair of red-tinted lips, two white words elegantly written below them.

“Crimson Lips?”

“A burlesque show,” I elaborated and smiled wryly, tilting my head, “and I am its star.”

Though I noticed her blanching at this, I forced myself to ignore it and instead continued to speak.

“I’m also responsible for its costume design. There’s about fifteen different costumes in it, and I designed and made them all myself,” I said with reserved pride.

Burlesque, you see, was in many ways what led me there. So many loathed their own bodies, loathed who they were beneath fabric... It was an enticing challenge, you see; the idea of creating clothes that made taking them off a spectacle within itself.

Does that make sense in any way?

She gestured to the room with the sign forbidding minors from entering. “Is that where…”

“Yes,” I said, clearing my throat. “I can’t display them for obvious reasons, along with other…” I licked my lips. “Similar items I’m working on.”

“And there’s a showing tomorrow?” Twilight asked, and I was concerned by the line of questioning, did not like where it might be going.

“...Of Crimson Lips?”

“Yes.”

I hesitated. “There is, yes.”

“Right.”

I said as much before, didn’t I? There would be no agreeing to disagree here. If she asked me to change, to stop what I’d done or was going to do, I would not do so.

She knew that.

I knew it, too.

“Twilight, I—” It was hard to speak. Hard to say what I wanted, torn between wanting to convince her this wasn’t necessary, she didn’t have to see, we could just pretend, and yet knowing that neither of us deserved to love a lie.

My sentence trailed off just as life slammed its gavel and Twilight delivered hers.

“Could I come see it?”

BronyCon had a burlesque show this weekend, and it occurred to me halfway through finishing this that if I had a gone, I could have said I went for research purposes and it would have been 100% true.

It has been a while, dear friend, and it has been hard for me to find words to speak. So I hope you will bear with me as I talk, and talk, and talk until something makes sense. Once you and I have reached that point, we shall ignore all of this and cast it into the deepest corners of our memories, yes?

I think I should start by asking you to forgive me as I take you somewhere else for a moment. A different time, a different place. I’m sure you’d like to know of the cabaret, and what Twilight thought, and whether or not our relationship was on the brink of collapse. And you will find out, you will, but there are still some things to set in motion. And this, my dear, is one of them.

Now, how does one approach this topic? How does one convey it, the complexities within, in a way that is both reserved and not.

Ah. Perhaps a story about children might be the right way—though not dead children, in this particular case.

If you walked the halls of the Sapphire Carousel long enough, you’d inevitably run into a few children. Not metaphorical children or anything of the sort, but actual children, loudly rushing around with their toys and their books and their drawings, poor Rainbow Dash rounding them up as their mothers walked by with their clients.

Children that belonged to one of us and all of us at once. They do say it takes a brothel, do they not?

I think, dear friend, I’ve not painted an inaccurate picture of my trade, no, but an incomplete one.

For every Sapphire Carousel, there is a Trottingham Sex Trafficking Ring.

For every woman that came here willingly, there is a girl that was forced into it.

For every Rarity, there is a Shimmer Glass.

Unlike me, Shimmer Glass entered our trade through necessity, at an age where I was still debating with Lady Celestia what dress to wear for the upcoming prom. Unlike me, years later, her main concern wasn’t rebelling against the norm, but providing for her child of an unknown father. Unlike me and the rest of Lady Luna’s workers, she did not have Rainbow Dash to take care of the man who assaulted her.

To make a long story short, and to respect at least some of her privacy, she eventually left her brothel and tried to find better work in the city. Some means to provide for her son and herself. But, she thought, all she was good at was our trade.

“Sit,” said our dear Lady Luna, gesturing the younger woman into her office.

“I’d rather stand,” Shimmer replied, a trick she’d learned from a string of miserable experiences. She’d only work on equal grounds, or she didn’t work at all. She quickly added, “I mean no disrespect.”

The Lady shrugged. “As you wish. I will be seated,” she said, pulling back her desk chair and doing as much. “It has been a long day, and I’m not going to stand another minute.”

That said, she lifted her hand and Shimmer watched with awe as a nearby cabinet opened itself and papers floated out, arranging themselves in a stack on the desk.

“What’s that?” she asked, unable to help herself.

My Lady stared at her. “Your contract.”

“A-ah.” Shimmer tried to hide her apprehension. One might think signing a contract would be a good sign, but contracts could be confusing, and in her experience, easily designed to trick someone who lacked what one might call traditional education. She reached her hand out. “I’ll read it first.”

“I would expect so.”

But before Shimmer could start, piercing screams rang from the corridor, the sound of a child crying its heart out, followed by the door bursting open, and dearest Rainbow rushing in, wrangling a desolate boy.

Luna’s eyes narrowed. “Rainbow Dash.”

“What?! Look, I’m sorry but—”

“No, no, please, that’s my boy!” Shimmer explained, mortified as she rushed to Rainbow Dash, relieving her of the child and offering an apologetic glance. “Thank you, I—” Her eyes welled with nervous tears, and she turned away from the Lady and Rainbow, desperately hushing her child. “Now, now, baby. Now, now.”

“Is he ill?” Lady Luna asked, who was surrounded by children and yet still assumed every time they cried meant they must be ill.

“No, just hungry,” Shimmer said. She glanced to Rainbow and gestured for her bag. “I’m sorry. There’s sandwiches—”

“Yeah, yeah.”

A moment later, Rainbow offered her a wrapped package and Shimmer opened it to reveal several sandwiches, the smell of which immediately silenced her child and attracted Rainbow Dash.

“Oh wow,” she said, watching as the child gobbled one up, “can I have one?”

“Rainbow Dash.”

“What?”

“It’s fine! I can make more,” Shimmer said, offering one to Rainbow Dash. After that, she turned to the Lady and decided she might as well extend the offer. “Would you—”

“No, thank you.”

“What?!” Rainbow exclaimed. “Why wouldn’t you—? Okay, okay, I’m leaving!”

After glaring Rainbow Dash away, Luna turned to Shimmer, relenting. “Well, I suppose one wouldn’t hurt while you read your contract.”

And so she did, as Shimmer read, and had another, and another, and another until she stopped Shimmer’s reading midway to ask.

“Is sex work your only interest as far as jobs are concerned?”

Shimmer looked up. “‘Scuse me?”

Again, the Lady lifted her hand and an entirely different filing cabinet opened up, followed by an entirely different contract landing before Shimmer.

“I would like to hire you as a cook.”

Shimmer, dearest heart, blinked at her. “I didn’t know you were looking for a cook.”

The Lady smiled. “We weren’t.”

I do feel bad for you, dear friend. You won’t be able to taste the exquisite delicacies Shimmer prepared for us for months on end, each better than the last. I wager she’s responsible for the several pounds I put on. Or maybe that was Pinkie. Likely both.

Now, I mentioned earlier that Shimmer was kind, did I not?

Well, she was, and more than that, it was a disarming sort of kindness, the one you couldn’t help but reciprocate. It was no surprise how often clients came back asking for her when she eventually dabbled back into our trade, taking some shifts when she wanted to pay for culinary classes.

One shift in particular, on a day she wasn’t scheduled but decided on a whim to put in some extra hours, she took on a client that no one else wanted. They had their reasons, mind you, but when all stepped back, she stepped forward, seeing in this troubled woman someone seeking something.

“You’re very pretty,” Shimmer said, casually strolling into the bedroom, her lacy underwear and bra leaving little to the imagination. “Close the door?”

When her client quickly did as told, the poor dear looking terribly out of place and doubtless feeling that way as she clutched a notebook and pen, Shimmer sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to her with almost childlike innocence.

“I’m giving you the deluxe treatment,” she said. “I’ve never been paid so much before!”

The client swallowed. “Ah… Yes… I…” She looked back towards the door, and a pang of something quite awful clouded her eyes.

“Sit,” Shimmer insisted, her tone gentle. “It’s alright. Don’t think about it.”

And so the young woman moved forward, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking terrified of it all. And looking beautiful. Terribly, terribly beautiful.

“We haven’t formally met, have we?” Shimmer asked, lifting her hand and delicately brushing her fingertips against the other’s cheek. She then lowered it and extended her hand out. “I’m Shimmer Glass.”

“Twilight,” said my beloved, taking her hand. “Twilight Sparkle.”

If you see any typos in this or the next chapter, please let me know (preferably via PM)! Thank you!

But let us move away from Shimmer Glass and my dearly beloved, watching this nearly-naked woman.

Let us move away from that until the time is right, and go instead to a different time and a different place.

A bridge.

There we were, Twilight and I, leaning against the bridge filled with rusty locks and forgotten promises, a ritual she and I had yet to partake in. There we were, our hands dangling over both the edge and our future, and there I was, consumed by the thought that the moment would be over soon, never again to be repeated.

I was going to lose her. I was. Pinkie had called me dramatic, exaggerated. Twilight would never, she said.

Twilight would never, indeed.

“How many keys do you think are down there?" she asked, her eyes set on the rusted treasures at the bottom of the river.

“A few hundred, I’d imagine, if all the locks on this bridge are any indication.”

“Mmm.”

Her fingertips glowed with magic and a pair of keys began to dance. The rusting evidence of wide-eyed couples who truly believed that putting a lock on the side of a bridge and throwing the key into the river would make their love last eternal.

Silly, stupid, naive fools.

“Do you ever think of leaving the city?”

The question left my lips unbidden, the words tumbling out in rhythm with my heart.

“Leave?” she said, still focused on her dancing keys. “I just moved here. Why would I leave?”

I laughed, or tried to, at least.

“Of course. I apologize. That was a silly question,” I said as my fingertips glowed with magic and a single key at the bottom of the lake struggled to keep up with the others.

“Do you? Think of leaving the city, I mean.”

“No,” I said, which wasn’t a lie. I smiled at her. “You did just move here, after all.”

She looked at me after that but offered me no smile, no blush, nothing but this acknowledgment of having heard and her stare that searched me for something, something, something. It was too much.

“My home is here, regardless,” I said more seriously, quickly turning back to the water. “My parents paid a great deal of money to allow me to build a life here.”

A silence followed, and soon enough, my key danced alone.

“Do your parents know you’re a...?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” she said, a tone of surprise wrapped around her words. She was quiet for a moment, and when she found nothing to say about that, asked, “Did you bring the ticket for the performance?”

I took in her question, watching my key jump into the air and then float down and down and down until it was lost in a sea of forgotten promises.

Gods.

“Yes,” I said, somehow, somewhere managed to find the words, reaching into my coat’s pocket and taking out a ticket for the show. Gods, gods, gods. “Here it is.”

She didn’t take it outright. She stared at it for a moment, and I wondered if she was frightened as I was. I hoped she might change her mind, now that it was there, and at the same time, I hated that I wanted that, hated that I was afraid she’d see the show. I loathed the shame I was afraid to feel.

But, eventually, she reached out and took the ticket in her fingers, lifting it up to take a better look.

“Crimson Lips,” she whispered aloud, turning to me and letting her eyes wander towards the show’s namesake.

If things were different, if circumstances were otherwise, I might have taken out my lipstick and applied a fresh layer. Instead, I sucked in my lips, trying to hide them away as I looked back to the river.

“Do try to be there early. It gets crowded.”

“How much is it?”

“Pardon?” I looked up to her, and my confusion died at the sight of her pulling out a satchel of coins and bills. “Oh, no. No, no, no, put that away. It’s on the house.”

“I’d like to pay,” she insisted, and I don’t doubt she truly wanted to support me.

I don’t doubt this, and yet I didn’t want her money. To put a price on it, to have it be a transaction, well… that’s what it would become. Even though she’d all but forced me into this scenario, I couldn’t possibly charge her for something I would have otherwise given her for free.

“Twilight,” I said, politely, “really. I don’t want your money, it’s on the hou—”

“Please,” she cut off, a strain to her voice. I wonder if she felt guilty, perhaps. Knew that she’d forced me into taking her to see this show, so she felt obligated to somehow compensate me.

Well, I say I wonder, but I personally know what she was thinking. I know what she was thinking then, and what she would think when she saw the show. But back then I didn’t know, and in that gesture all I saw was what it was: a transaction, ultimately devoid of emotions.

If I was inviting her, then the tacit rules of manners might still apply. She might dislike it and think quite terribly of me, but one never looks a gift horse in the mouth, no? But now that money was involved, now that this was something she had bought, if it turned out she disliked it, realized that this was not what she wanted, then she was well within her rights to be dissatisfied.

To never want it again.

“...A hundred,” I said, resigned, watching as she took out the money and handed it over with visible relief.

I took the bills and coins into my hand, roughly shoving them into my coat pocket as though they were poisoned. Afterward, I looked back to my river and wished I were a key that the current might drag me far, far away.

Were I a key that I might lock her away in my heart forever and stop her from leaving.

“I come to this bridge so often,” I said, staring out into the distance, “and I’ve yet to put a lock.”

“Oh?” Poor thing tried not to sound relieved. “Because you’ve never found anyone to put it with?”

“Oh, no, no. I have someone in mind,” I said. “I just think publicly declaring my undying love to myself might be frowned upon.”

“I see,” she said with a smile like I hadn’t seen in weeks. She crossed her arms over the railing, her gaze betraying the delight I inspired despite it all. “I think it’s fine to do it. I’ll even look the other way, if you want.”

“Well! How kind of you, dear. Now I have to put a lock just because you’ve given me permission to do so.”

She laughed, a real genuine chuckle, and for a moment it felt as though everything was fine. Her eyes sparkled ever so slightly, matching her shining smile.

It was startling, truth be told. As I said, I hadn’t seen her smile like that since… well, since the truth came out, and to see it again... It warmed me up, like a sober at a bar too lost in drinking her up to stop and think if this was worth the pain it would bring.

“Do you even have a lock?” she asked me next.

“Obviously not. Not here, at least.”

Twilight took this in, looking back towards the water and humming thoughtfully.

“I suppose I might have one back at my shop,” I continued, unaware. “Or maybe at the Sapph—Twilight?”

I realized she was putting on the coat she’d taken off, which she then followed up by hanging her bag around her shoulder.

“Stay here,” she said, raising a hand to keep me in place as she backed away from me. “I’ll be right back.”

“Right back? What? Why?” I moved towards her. “Where are you going? Can’t I go with—”

“Just wait there!” she insisted, turning around and rushing off. “I promise I’ll be right back!”

Just like that, she was gone. Gone, gone, gone, and I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t affect me. Not that she’d left right then and there—I knew she’d obviously come back—but it was a reminder that later that day, if things did not go as we hoped, she might walk away from me and not promise to be back.

I was afraid. Very afraid.

But then she was back, and what did I see clutched in her hands but a red lock.

“There,” she said, a smart grin on her lips. “Now you have one.”

I gawked at her, unsure. I didn’t actually want to declare undying love to myself! I wanted to do that with her! Gods, I wanted to lock our relationship on that blasted bridge and foolishly pretend destiny would keep us together because that’s how thousands of fairy tales told me destiny worked.

But she’d never agree. Would she? She wouldn’t, not with what was at stake. Not with our relationship on the brink of being tested and possibly fractured beyond repair.

But what if she would?

“Twilight, I hope you don’t actually think I want to promise undying love to myself,” I said with a laugh. “I realize I can be vain, but honestly.”

“I know,” she said, amused, and embarrassed, too, pocketing the lock. “It was just a silly joke.”

“Don’t put it away!” I quickly said, and if I’d been bolder, I’d have fetched the lock out of her coat pocket myself. “If you spent money on it, we might as well use it.”

I could see she was intrigued, her hand slipping into her pocket.

“Use it?” she repeated, carefully. Waiting, I think.

“Yes. Use it in the name of…” I faltered for a split-moment.

In the name of what? Of our friendship? Of our romance? I hesitated to give it a name, as though doing so might curse it in some way, spoil it forever.

So I settled on what we were.

“Use it in the name of Us.”

“In the name of Us,” she repeated, slowly, every word with its weight. I feared for a moment she’d refuse, but soon enough, her hand left her pocket and with it did the lock as well. Her eyes scanned the bridge. “Where should we put it…?”

I’ll admit I felt short of breath. We were saved, I thought. Saved because of this godforsaken bridge.

I was as much a fool as the owners of all the other dozens of locks.

We found a spot near the left end of the bridge, close to the ground. We both crouched down with childlike excitement, momentarily forgetting everything else going on, and we simply giggled at this silly little game.

I put the lock on the bridge. I remember running my fingers on the grating, noting how cold it was. I remember threading the shackle in, and I remember the lump in my throat when I firmly clicked it into the padlock.

We were both quiet for a moment, contemplating this brink of no return.

“Do you have the key?” I asked, quietly, still holding onto the lock.

She produced it without a word, and I swallowed when she put one hand over mine and then used the other to insert the key.

But she didn’t turn it.

And I was consumed by the sudden fear that she’d changed her mind. That she would reject me. Then, and if not then, later.

“You don’t have to see it.”

The words tumbled out of my mouth, harried, unbidden, unwelcome, but painfully sincere.

She turned to me, confused. “Huh?”

I refused to look at her.

“The show. The Sapphire, my work, I…” I nearly choked on my words. “You don’t have to do this.”

I heard her breathe in. I felt her hand tighten around mine. I heard her as she spoke.

“I have to.”

And she turned the key, and the deal was done, and now all that was left was to throw the key, our relationship now in what I thought was destiny’s hands.

I rose first, terrified but relieved, like this would save us now. Fool, fool, fool!

Silly little Rarity.

“Well then!” I exclaimed, looking towards the river as Twilight got up next to me, the key in hand. “Shall we let destiny take charge?”

“Mmm.”

She twirled the key through her fingers, something she tended to do with whatever she was holding when she was deep in thought. She scanned the river, the dozens of glittering keys shining from below, and then she reminded me who exactly she was.

And why, for better or worse, I loved her.

“No.”

I blinked. I must have laughed, that nervous confused laugh one does when faced with something that was not agreed upon, but you don’t want to be rude by outright pointing it out.

“No?” I asked. No?

“I don’t believe in destiny,” she informed me as she pocketed the key. “I believe in choices.”

And Twilight Sparkle had already made hers.

Twilight Sparkle had never been to the Sapphire Carousel before. In fact, to be precise, she’d only ever been to the Lunar District once: the day she came to my boutique to see me.

Ever since she’d found out about Lady Luna’s establishment, as far back as that delightful dinner with Fluttershy and her mother, she’d never dared venture and see the place for herself. It had always felt… not dangerous, no, but forbidden. A place she could know about, but like any proper and decent individual, should never be within a hundred feet of.

This probably explained her attire.

Hidden underneath a black cloak, the hood obscuring most of her face, Twilight Sparkle quietly traveled the busy streets of the Lunar District, her eyes jumping back and forth between the many people crossing her path.

You might think her silly for doing so. Why would she hide her face?

This wasn’t the Sunswept District, after all.

There were no posh boutiques here, no luxury spas or high-end restaurants. No wealthy aristocrats who might recognize her as they strolled about, flaunting their wealth with every golden ring on their finger, and every casually deliberate mention of their prestigious friends, prestigious businesses, prestigious lives.

Instead, there were run-down shops like Holly Rose’s Remedial Emporium which promised potions and remedies of dubious origins for all sorts of predicaments. There were vagrants meandering about, pestering for coins and spitting at the floor when people pointedly walked past them; children playing games on the street, snickering at the fortune-tellers promising (or, rather, yelling) to lead passersby down the right path; shop owners enjoying smoking breaks on the sidewalk, debating whether the man five shops over had both a wife and a lover (he did, just so you know, and recently all three visited my work at the same exact time).

Realistically speaking, not a single person in the Lunar District had any reason to recognize her.

But she still felt compelled to hide.

After evading a particularly pesky peddler that followed her for almost two blocks, Twilight’s attention was drawn towards a large group of rather well-dressed men walking past her, some of them holding an identical ticket to the one folded inside her pocket.

She trailed behind for a few blocks, until finally they arrived to their bustling destination.

The Sapphire Carousel.

Lounging at the edge of Satine Plaza, the Sapphire Carousel dominated the view with its tower-like center, lined with decorative pillars and unicorn sculptures all along the five stories of its exterior. It was framed by two rectangular buildings--the brothel and our dormitories, respectively--on either side. These were similarly gilded with pillars and unicorns. The glittering marquee lights around the roofed entryway called the public's eyes to the doorway, where music greeted the decently sized crowd.

I asked Lady Luna once why she decorated her establishment with unicorns of all things, the widely-accepted creatures so pure and perfect, every fairy tale out there said only virgins could catch them.

Was she being ironic? Making a statement, perhaps? Was she amused by the idea that something so pure guarded something generally considered impure? Was this, perhaps, a dig at Lady Celestia, and how perfect she thought she was?

Lady Luna then informed me that she quite liked unicorns, actually, and not everything was about her sister, and that was the end of that.

In truth, Twilight Sparkle was surprised by the Sapphire. She’d seen brothels before, known them to be questionable establishments hidden away in back-alleys, so she was startled to see one that was, well, so flashy. So joyful, and artsy, and almost inviting.

She noticed a commemorative marble statue, as well, sitting right in the middle of the plaza. She wondered, as she made her way towards it, if whoever it was commemorating was offended at the establishment towering over it. She certainly would feel uncomfortable if any statue of hers was placed in front of a brothel.

The statue, carved from marble white as snow, was of a beautiful woman no older than Twilight sitting on a bench, a lovely necklace hanging from her neck. The palms of her hands were pressed against the bench, providing support as she leaned over and grinned at Twilight, one of her eyes partially obscured by her long hair.

Not for the first time, Twilight thought of me. Perhaps this woman too was a prostitute who seduced strangers by bringing up wildly morbid facts.

After smiling at her own joke, she noticed a plaque near the base of the statue.

In Memory of Sapphire Snow
May her kindness and beauty last eternal

Interesting, she thought. Was the Sapphire named after her?

It’s important that you know, dear friend, that Twilight will find herself in front of Sapphire’s statue twice that day. The first time was right then.

The second time will come later that night. She won’t be alone.

She will wish that she were.

Once she’d steeled herself, she made her way towards the Sapphire, feeling some small amount of vindication over her cloak when she saw that the crowd was much more diverse than she’d expected. Workers, residents of the Lunar district, artists, the lower and middle classes, foreigners, and even elegant men and women surrounded her, all rubbed shoulders in this sanctuary for the debauched.

“You’ve seen this before?” a man asked another as she stood behind them in line.

“Third time,” he replied. He took his ticket out of his pocket and showed it to his acquaintance, delighted. “Front row seats for the best view.”

Twilight glanced at her ticket and realized I’d seated her near the back.

“How about you? What seats do you have?”

“Near the back,” he replied, and then offered a grin. “But that’s fine. I’m staying after for a private show with one of the girls.”

His friend elbowed him, laughing. “Maybe she’ll still be wearing her costume,” he said, unaware of my dear beloved blanching behind him.

Not for the first time that night, she wondered if this was a good idea.

Once she’d handed her ticket over, she followed the crowd into the almost completely obscure theatre, illuminated only by the dozens of floating candelabras guiding guests to their seats—a fascinating sight that quickly reminded her Lady Celestia was not the only master mage in the city.

A candelabra floated down towards her, and having seen others do similarly, she told it her seat. It flashed once, and then floated away, my darling dearest following behind, her mouth half-open with fascination.

A fascination that grew tenfold when, once everyone was seated, the candelabras floated up towards the ceiling and transformed into beautiful grand silver chandeliers, bathing the theatre in blue light.

And reminding Twilight where exactly she was when she saw Lady Luna on stage.

Standing under a white arch decorated with carvings of waxing and waning moons, the Lady of the Night smiled and bowed graciously at the thunderous applause that erupted from the audience. When it died down, the chandeliers dimmed their lights and a stage light cut through the dark, enveloping my Lady as she spoke.

“Ladies and gentlemen.”

And Twilight Sparkle, most of all.

“This is the last call,” said Lady Luna. “And the show, much like life, must go on. For those of you still wandering about, please take your seats as the Sapphire Carousel proudly presents its grand show…”

The stage light turned off, and Twilight sat in her seat, her hands gripping her armrests as she waited, waited, and waited for whatever came next.

What came next was a female voice, delicate, gentle, proper, audible throughout the entire room, yet sounding as if it was whispering in her ear began to play.

A voice that she knew very well.

“Let us remember, boys and girls,” I whispered into her ear in a way she’d only dreamed about, “the proper rules to being a lady.”

The stage lights returned and Twilight’s heart somersaulted in her chest at the sight of a dozen beautiful women dancing on stage, each and every single one wearing intricately designed form-fitting short dresses. Artsy colorful cabaret attires that accentuated their every curve, their every shape, complemented them each individually in colors and design and accessories, and most importantly, left little to the imagination yet made you want for more.

I made sure of that.

Twilight’s eyes shot down to her hands, her cheeks flaming hot as my voice again whispered in her ears.

“A lady always smiles at strangers.”

Dashing men in equally dashing suit-like costumes danced onto stage, ensorcelled by the girls and their smiles as they danced around them, the men’s hands reaching out towards them to pull them in.

Their hands trailed their bodies, fingertips grazing the thin fabric that separated skin from skin, and my poor darling beloved, not for the first time, imagined me in their arms. She imagined me in a bed, and much like the men from earlier wanted, the fictional individual with me wasted no time in peeling my costume off.

Stop, she thought to herself, fighting these images, trying not to think of the many men and women I’d gone to bed with. Finally, my voice provided brief respite, drawing her attention back to the women in men’s arms.

“A lady,” I advised, “must play hard to get.”

The women took this to heart, pushing the men away in rhythm with the music. How torn they looked! How confused and rejected as these women they held danced away from them, not whispering a word on why. They could only go after them in kind, the accompanying music encouraging them as the women lead them on this literal merry little dance.

So the show went on, women and men with progressively less clothing spiritually rebelling against these rules Lady Celestia had once taught me as a child. This absolutely stunning showcase both in artistry and pettiness, being witnessed by the Lady’s prodigy student.

The rules went on, and Twilight watched and watched, as women revealing what was under their dresses gasped when I reminded them that ladies never crossed their legs when wearing a skirt. She watched, my darling beloved, as I advised them a lady never kisses until the third date, but stayed silent when men assumed this only applied to kisses on the lips, not on their hands, on their arms, on their necks, and the rest you can imagine, I’m sure.

It was transfixing in how uncomfortable it was for Twilight. She, who’d been raised by aristocrats from the north, who’d been taught that sex and intimacy were for those in love, who was trying to hold onto the image of the proper charming woman she’d met on a bench… Oh, my darling dearest beloved, how she struggled to tell herself that sex was a biological need, it was, it was, it was, just that and nothing else.

All of this bubbled under the surface of her soul, building and building but never fully able to actually release simply because she hadn’t seen me yet. Every new rule, every new dance, where I again failed to appear on stage, it would leave her feeling relieved but only more afraid of the next.

Eventually, after another performance, the music died down, the light following shortly after, taking with them her thoughts and imaginings. What felt like an eternity went by, until finally the stage lights reappeared and converged once more, but not on the stage, oh no.

They were pointed towards the ceiling, and everything died down--the music, the roar of the crowd, all of it--as who descended from a suspended ring but I.

Wearing nearly nothing.

“A lady remembers,” I whispered in her ears, as she wanted to look away but couldn’t, “that modesty is never overrated.”

There I sat on my ring, looking off into the distance but not towards the crowd. Not towards her. Simply sat there, the ring slowly twirling me around as I descended, one hand holding onto the ring and the other balled into a fist.

“And finally, one must always remember the most important rule of all.”

Twilight swallowed, everything around her fading away when I opened the lipstick tube I’d been holding and delicately applied a fresh layer. She watched, this motion I’d done so many times before, this little habit I had that she believed was hers and hers alone, until the ring was nearly at the bottom and men and women walked towards me from all sides.

The lights went out.

They came back on.

Everyone save for me was gone.

And what littered my body but dozens of crimson lips, as I whispered in her ear:

“A lady never leaves a mark.”

And in this moment, my beloved realized that though I had never left a mark, it’s true, this did not mean that, to her, the rest of the world hadn’t left their mark on me.

So she gathered her things, got up and left.

She wasn’t in the lobby when I came out after the performance, a long black coat hiding my skimpy costume away.

“Twilight?” I called out, pushing my way past the crowd still gathered. “Twilight!”

Gods, gods, gods.

I looked and looked, distraught as I was forced to engage people--most of them regular clients--who greeted and congratulated me both for the performance and the costumes.

As the crowd thinned and she failed to appear, I told myself that maybe she hadn’t come.

But if she did, a voice whispered in the back of my mind, the fact that she left already isn’t a particularly good sign, is it?

Maybe she was outside. Maybe, after a sight like that, she just needed a burst of cold air to… to... I don’t know. Something.

I rushed outside into the moonlit plaza, and her name died in my throat when I finally saw her standing by Sapphire Snow’s statue, her arms crossed and her eyes lifted towards the deceased woman.

There she was, my darling beloved.

I might have gone numb with anxiety if the biting cold wasn’t keeping me alert.

“Twilight!” I called out, running to her, putting on a mask of delight. “There you are!”

“Oh, Rarity.” She hugged herself, and I pretended I didn’t notice her having a hard time looking at me. “Hi.”

I made a show out of catching my breath. “I was afraid you’d left! But here you are!” I exclaimed, losing my nerve when she did not reciprocate my enthusiasm. She simply stared at me, apparently unsure of what to say, and my growing terror forced me to get it over with. “So? What did you think? Did you like the performance at the end with the chandeliers? It’s a wonderful display of magic, isn’t it?”

Her nails dug into her arms, and she continued to avoid my gaze.

“The chandeliers? Ah, I…” She swallowed. “I didn’t see that, sorry.”

I frowned. “...You didn’t see it?”

“No, I…” She closed her eyes. “I left before it finished.”

I took a step back.

“Oh.”

Oh.

I somehow found the words to continue.

“When?”

Twilight opened her eyes again, but still she refused to look at me. “I’m not sure. A quarter of the way in. It was just when…” She faltered, and it hurt me. “When… When you came out on the ring and did the lips—”

“Ah,” I interrupted, feeling too sick to hear the rest.

She had left. She had left. She had left, and I supposed I ought to have felt comforted by the fact that she waited it out. Maybe she’d stayed to say she was okay with it. Maybe she’d stayed to tell me she wasn’t.

There was only one way to find out.

“Well?” I asked her, composed.

She sat on her answer a moment until finally she uncrossed her arms and her impassive gaze met mine.

“I don’t understand.”

“How… How do you mean?” I asked, my voice weak with fear; a fear that grew as she spoke, hugging herself again, every word a carefully sharpened knife.

“I don’t understand why you would do this. Any of this,” she said, looking to all of the Sapphire. The theatre, the brothel... “I can’t… I can’t understand why you would choose this life for yourself.”

I felt faint.

“Twilight… Twilight, you…” I struggled to speak. “You don’t have to understand,” I pleaded. “This doesn’t change anything. This is just… Twilight, it’s just…” I choked on my words, my chest crushing my heart. “You don’t have to understand.”

“Yes. I do. And I don’t understand why you’d want this.”

I was afraid to speak. Frankly, I didn’t know if I could even speak at all.

But as my Lady had said, the show must go on.

“...What do you propose, then?” I asked, my voice a whisper that turned into a gasp when she extended her right hand towards me for a handshake.

“...Twilight?” Tears filled my eyes. “What...What is this? What are you… Are you saying goodbye to me, Twilight?”

And when she said nothing and simply held her hand in the air, I felt my entire world collapse around me.

I covered my mouth with my hand, aghast, speechless, faced with an absolutely shattering realization. For years now—for years—I was convinced that nothing in the world would ever devastate me as much as Celestia rejecting me would.

I was wrong.

I was lacerated with pain in a way I’d never been before.

“Twilight… Twilight, I…” I stammered the words, only inches away from practically sobbing them. “I…”

I love you.

I love you, is what I wanted to say, but not because I wanted to confess it, or I wanted to plead for her to reconsider, but because I was indignant. I was betrayed.

I loved her.

I would have killed for her, I would have died for her, and that meant nothing.

My body mattered more than my heart.

“I thought you were different,” I spat instead, indignant.

She didn’t reply.

“I really thought you were different,” I continued, and now my anger turned into an incredulous laugh. Silly, stupid Rarity! “I really did! I actually thought you…”

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, quietly.

“Sorry? Sorry?! Darling!” I laughed again. I must have looked mad. She certainly looked at me like I was, and you know? I think I was. Driven mad with pain. “Da-a-a-rling, why are you apologizing? Twilight Sparkle, you should be happy! Delighted, even! Darling dearest! Don’t you see?”

I stepped forward and hissed every word.

“You’re just like your teacher.”

So I gathered my shattered heart, and as I had years ago, turned around and left.

She watched me go, lowering her hand and shoving it into her pocket.

Watched, quietly, until I disappeared inside the Sapphire Carousel, and only then did she turn around and leave.

It was a long trip back home, quietly sitting in the back of the inner-city train, her hands folded on her lap, her gaze set on the passing scenery, and her mind repeating my statement over and over.

She was, make no mistake. Twilight Sparkle was just like her teacher in more ways than one, but I’d been wrong when I said that to her.

I don’t blame myself for doing what I did, I don’t, but I was too blinded by pain to realize what she was doing. She could have asked me to stop as Celestia had. She could have asked me to change and only then she’d come back.

But she didn’t. Even as she destroyed me, not an inch of emotion on her face, Twilight Sparkle showed more respect towards my choice than Celestia ever had.

At the ding of the train, she got off at her station and walked home, politely smiling at people as they passed by, and even stopping to give directions to a lost tourist.

“Twilight?” a voice called when she walked through the door. Lady Celestia appeared atop the stairs moments later, an envelope in her hands. “Twilight! Welcome home! You caught me just before I left!”

If Twilight had wanted to be left alone, she was too polite to show it.

“Oh. Hello, Lady Celestia,” she greeted, trying not to think of my words even as they whispered in her ears when the Lady descended the stairs. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

“Twilight, please. You’re an adult.” The Lady laughed. “You can come home at any time you’d like, as long as you can get up in time for class!” She noted Twilight’s cloak and raised an eyebrow. “Where did you go?”

“I went to see someone,” she replied.

“Oh, how wonderful! A friend?”

And for the first time that night, her voice nearly cracked.

“No.”

“Ah…” said the Lady, but did not press. “Well! Still, don’t ever apologize for coming in late. I used to be just like you, you know? Always a night-owl.”

Twilight smiled thinly. “Oh.” She cleared her throat. “You’re going out?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” She made her way towards the coat rack. “I completely forgot to take this letter to Silver Dunes to the post-office, and it has to go out as soon as possible. I think the post office in Miller Road is still open, isn’t it?”

“I can take it for you,” Twilight suggested, not out of a desire to please, but because that’s who she was.

“You?” She shook her head. “Don’t be silly! I can’t make you go out so late, especially when this was my fault.”

“It’s really no problem. I have my coat and shoes on already, anyway,” Twilight insisted, suddenly eager to get away from the house, from Celestia, from the traces of me that still lived in every room.

After mulling it over a bit, the Lady relented.

“...Well, all right, then.” She handed Twilight the envelope. “Thank you so much, dear.”

Twilight smiled. “Of course.”

That said, she turned around and left the house again, shivering when cold air nipped at her nose. She made her way into the street and walked alone, her sights and thoughts set on the letter.

Unfortunately, when she reached the empty station, she saw the train speeding off in the distance, which meant she had a ten minute wait until the next. Taking a breath, she sat down on the bench and waited.

She waited, and waited, idly looking around until her eyes fell on a plaque on the bench’s backrest.

In loving memory of little orphan Silver Blue
carried off to a better life by winter’s night

Not for the first time, Twilight Sparkle thought of me.

She thought of the day we first met, her doing equations on a notebook, me staring at her with fascination. She thought of how lovely I looked that day, and she thought of the very first words I ever uttered to her.

She laughed. Laughed at the memory of a silly yet charming woman’s attempt to make small talk.

She laughed until the memory was too much, until tears filled her eyes, until she buried her face in her hands, until she reckoned with exactly what she’d done, and…

For the first time of many in the weeks to come, Twilight Sparkle wept long into the night.

*ambles in months late with a starbucks and an uncancelled crimson*

hey guys, sorry i took so long, anyway I brought p a i n

Dear friend.

It has been a while, hasn't it? Or, at the very least, it certainly feels like it has for me. It certainly felt like it had for me, after that day.

You do remember, do you not?

Twilight Sparkle, who I loved like life itself, had ended our friendship, and in the days that followed, not much else mattered. Days felt like months to me, long and tortuous and as painful as the illness that plagued my heart.

And my body.

As such, I want to ask a favor of you. An indulgence, if you will.

Forgive me.

Not me, of course, for I’ve done nothing wrong, but the Rarity whom I’m about to tell you about. The one we’ve followed throughout this story, who was foolish and in love and most importantly, foolishly in love.

This is the story of a mistake. Not my first, and certainly not the last I shall tell you about, but the one where I set into motion a chain of events that I would not be able to take back.

I was contemplating letting you rest. A little repose before we continue with this torrid, dramatic affair. But these things should be dealt with like a band-aid, or like a splinter. Quick, and easy, and in one fell swoop.

Do you remember the tradition I told you about? How once a month, the workers of the Sapphire Carousel would get together to drink, drink, drink and talk, talk, talk?

Well, our monthly meeting happened exactly four days after Twilight rejected me. Despite the fact I was, shall we say, on an emotional sick-leave from my night-job, I still attended our monthly ritual.

This was my first mistake of the night.

There we sat, the men and women of the night, talking and laughing, most everyone trying to pretend I wasn’t sitting at the corner, sullenly clutching a bottle of wine.

Silver Doe presented her question to the council, wiping the cider off her mouth with a napkin.

“What are things that you hate?”

Well, wasn’t that easy!

I hated Twilight Sparkle. Hated her with every fiber of my being. Twi-light Spar-kle. A silly little woman with a pretentious sounding name about shining and sparkling that was ill-fitting for someone as flat as her.

I drank from the bottle.

Gods, I’d loved her. I’d loved her.

“I hate the rain,” said Amber Wind, staring out the frosted window. She breathed hot vodka-tinged air onto the surface of the window and traced a smiling face inside the resulting fog. “I hate the snow, too.”

“Make me a snowman!” I’d asked Twilight early November, before the Christmas fight, the two of us seated on a snow-covered field of grass. I remember wearing at least six layers of clothes, looking much like a snowman myself. “And put a jacket on, for goodness’ sake.”

She laughed, catching the jacket I launched her way and putting it over the thin shirt she was wearing. Northerners! She’d walk around in nothing but a skirt and blouse if I let her. I was getting a cold just by looking at her.

“I don’t want to make a snowman. I’ve made enough back home to last me a lifetime.” She fell back onto the snow and extended her arms, swinging them back and forth. “I’ll make you a snow angel.” She sat back up. “Oh. I need rocks to use as markers so I’ll get the dimensions right.”

I watched as she stood up and trailed around me, kicking the snow and picking up rocks scattered about.

“But I want a snowman!” I whined like a petulant child, yelping when she playfully kicked snow my way. “Twilight!”

“You make me a snowman!” she shot back, walking back to her spot and placing the rocks down on the ground. She laid back down and extended her arms and legs. “Here I go. A mathematically perfect snow angel.”

“I’m not making you a snowman,” I muttered loudly, gathering clumps of snow and doing exactly the opposite. “Ooooh! I’ll give it a scarf made out of leaves!”

She was so excited by my creation when I was done, she made me wait in the park alone for an hour so she could go fetch her camera and take a picture.

I drank again.

“I hate nights when I can’t see the stars,” Sunny Days said next, pouring wine into her glass and making me think of the many nights Twilight and I sat on Stargazer Point, looking at the stars with wonder and awe.

“I hate being cold,” Meadowlark sighed, and I drank, remembering the many times I’d noted I was cold and Twilight practically tripped over herself offering me her coat.

One after another, my companions listed out things they detested, and I drank to each one, able to associate a stinging memory of Twilight to every statement. Rider’s hatred for books reminded me of Twilight reading to me in the park while I sewed, after I’d protested I didn’t have time to do so myself. Ivormory’s drunken rant against the fortune-teller who’d told her she’d be rich by now reminded me of Twilight’s lecture on why I had been silly to get a palm-reading on my way to see her.

Eventually, the circle of hate and disdain turned to me, and the air visibly changed. Where before everyone had been laughing and teasing each other, dramatically venting things they loathed, now they all seemed to sober up when faced with my impending declaration.

Even though I was staring out the window, I could see them watching me from the corner of my eye, hesitating on what to do. Skipping me would doubtless invoke my rage and indignation, but asking me to participate brought with it the possibility of a truly intoxicated vicious speech.

It wasn’t that they didn’t sympathize with me! Or that they did not care for me expressing my pain.

They just didn’t rightly know if it would be healthy for me to dwell, which I had already, spending the entire night thinking of how much I loathed Twilight Sparkle.

“Rarity?” Shimmer Glass asked, because of course she would be the one to ask, a kindness to her voice that almost soothed my hurt. Shimmer cared for others so much, she could hardly stop herself from reaching out when she saw someone in pain. “Care to tell us what you hate?”

I think I laughed. Some choked sort of thing.

What did I hate!

In a fashion that I’m sure would have horrified Lady Celestia, I grabbed my bottle of wine and swigged the last of it in several unseemly gulps. A crimson droplet rolled down the edge of my lip, nearly reaching my chin until I licked it away.

I spoke with care.

“I hate magic,” I said, and my God, I hoped Twilight could feel it somewhere. That I hated this thing she so loved and prided herself in. “It’s useless. A dying art for pretentious, rich people that can afford to be educated in it. An easy way out for people who aren’t really better at anything else so they hide behind cheap parlor tricks that seem impressive at a glance.”

I smiled at my reflection, and with a thrum of my fingers, the bottle of wine struggled to float up. I had been taught to be a lady because I ‘did not have the talent’ for magic.

“I loathe magic.”

I expected them to say something. I wanted them to say something. To offer witty banter, some sort of remark that would make me laugh. But they didn’t.

They felt sorry for me.

And so, in that moment, I hated them, too.

I stepped out into the freezing streets about an hour later, messily buttoning up my jacket as Rainbow Dash ran out behind me.

“Rarity! Where the hell do you think you’re going?!”

"Out!" I spat. "Is it not obvious?"

"Out?! Are you insane?!"

She stopped in front of me, extending her arms to the side. As if she could stop me! As if she could stop me from… from what, I don't know, but whatever it was, I'd have my way and to hell with her.

To hell with them all, I thought.

I pushed her away and stomped further into the street, inebriated by booze and anger that shredded me to pieces, burned me like the biting cold against my skin. I wanted to get away from the Sapphire, away from it all, from the city that was now Hers because she lived there, and I loved her, and she told me no.

"Rarity, please!" Rainbow Dash insisted, bless her soul, even if the profanities she shouted my way were hardly worth blessing. She really did care for me, didn't she? As a child, I'd never imagined my best friend to be the foul-mouthed bouncer of a brothel, but I also never imagined I'd be a prostitute, so really, what did I know?

"Come on," she continued, catching up to me. "What is this?! Look, I get it! I do! You're pissed, and hurt, and you miss her, and whatever! I get it, Rares, but what are you doing here? What's the point of this?!"

I spun around.

"I want to walk, Rainbow Dash! Is that not allowed?! I want to walk!"

And when my eyes bled with tears, I hated myself, too.

"I want to walk." I marched up to her, shoved myself against her. Hissed every word, every syllable seeped with the stench of my rum-filled breath. "Walk until my feet hurt and bleed, until every street is crimson my blood and the pain is so much that it's the only thing I can think about and maybe then—!" My voice cracked, and I hated myself even more. "And maybe then I won't have to think about the fact that… that..."

I couldn't bring myself to say it.

"I want to walk," I finished, this pathetic whimper of a whisper, and I half-expected her to protest. Half-wanted her to do so, to insist this was stupid, and to take me home and tuck me into bed and all I'd have to contend with in the morning would be a throbbing head and chastizing employer.

But she didn't.

"Okay," she said instead. She threw her hands up in the air. "Fine, Rares. Fine. Let's walk."

She'd agreed.

And in retrospect, it would have been better if she hadn't.

Twilight sang for me once.

I'd been sitting in one of the city trains, late into the night. My face was pressed against the frosted window, my eyes following the ever changing scenery of the city. I don't remember exactly where I was going, or where I was coming from. I was only barely aware of the other tired commuters coming into the train, sitting down haphazardly on the seats and relaxing after another day of being alive.

It was at Hallow Spring Cross that it happened.

We stopped at the station, and my eyes glazed over the people waiting on the platform until they stopped on Her. There she was, my darling beloved, her nose stuck in a book while she waited with the others for the door to open.

When they did, she followed the crowd into the train and though my eyes followed her, as they always did and always would, hers failed entirely not only to follow me, but to see me at all. She made her way a few seats away from me and sat down by a window, still ensorcelled by her book.

I considered my options. Perhaps I should call her name, beckon her to me, but I was tired and did not feel particularly conversational. I could let her keep reading and then mention the event whenever I saw her next. I could also say nothing at all; my little secret to be mine and mine alone.

But, instead, I sang.

I closed my eyes, leaned my head against the window, and sang her a song from my childhood; about love, and dreams, and monsters of the night. I didn't care what the others thought, or if it was rude or not. I wanted to sing for her, and so I did. I didn't open my eyes when I was done. I didn't want to find out just yet if she'd heard me or not. Or, perhaps, I was afraid to find out she hadn't.

Just as I had been afraid of her finding out who I was. What I'd done.

The thrill of exposing yourself goes hand in hand with the possibility of being hurt, but sometimes…

Sometimes, you're rewarded for it.

It was so soft, so gentle at first, that I didn't even realize she was singing until I opened my eyes and saw her myself, her eyes meeting mine.

How beautiful, she looked, in this dim-lit train with her tired eyes, and her gentle song, and her silly affectionate smile that could scarcely match my radiant grin. I feared the other commuters would shush her, snuff away this rare moment where we were just two silly young women, but they didn't.

The old man sitting behind me folded away his newspaper, giving her his full attention; the young woman at the back leaned in, softly singing along; the teenager near the front rolled his eyes but did not look away.

In this one moment, everyone in that train had eyes for Twilight and Twilight only. But her?

As I lay my head on the backrest of my chair and listened in, Twilight Sparkle only had eyes for me.

I thought of that moment that night, sitting in a train with Rainbow Dash, our bodies rocking along with the vibrations of the carriage I’d boarded because it was there and I was angry and I’d do what I want.

I wanted to poison the memory. Twist it and transform it, darken it with the new understanding of this woman who so easily dumped me. Twilight Sparkle had been stupid to sing, I told myself. She didn't even do it well. She wasn't being cute or enchanting or charming; she was being annoying and I'd only liked it because I was an idiot.

I was decently sober by that point, but unfortunately not enough that I would try to fight my worst instincts.

The train eventually stopped and I forced myself up, wanting to continue my aimless, furious journey. I ignored Rainbow Dash when she asked me where we were going, and when I stepped out onto the platform, I stomped my way towards the street.

Until my feet bleed, I'd said, and God be my witness, so it would be. 'Til every street in the city bled crimson like my heart.

"Rarity!" Rainbow insisted, catching up to me and grabbing my wrist. She looked around us, at the neighborhood we were in, and then back to me. Her grip tightened. "Rares. I don't think this is a good idea."

I gestured to the station.

"The train back home is right there, then. Go home."

Rainbow gritted her teeth. "No, Rarity. That's not the point." She let go of my wrist and balled her hands into fists. "God. No offense, but you're being a total—" She cut herself off, the dear actually trying to compose herself. "You know what? Nevermind."

"I'm being a total what, Rainbow?" I hissed, stepping up. "Say it. Come on, then! Say it." My eyes filled up with tears. "That I'm a bitch! Isn't that what you want to say? Well, so be it! Because being nice apparently doesn't matter worth a damn! Maybe if I'm a bitch, it won't hurt when people throw me away like a piece of trash!"

Her expression softened.

"Rares..."

Unfortunately, this only incensed me more.

I turned around and marched away, infuriated as I wiped away my tears. Not at her, mind you, but at myself. I'd allowed myself to be vulnerable again, and I loathed that I had. I loathed to see what I thought was pity.

I didn't want pity. I didn't want empathy because I didn't care for Twilight.

Actually, I hate her, I told myself with every step. I despised her. I didn't love her; I never had! In fact, I didn't know why I cared so much! We weren't even anything! I was so stupid! An idiot, a fool, walking around heartbroken over someone who'd only ever been a friend.

But that's not what's important right now, is it, dear friend?

You see, I was walking on… how shall I call it? On auto-pilot, I suppose. So focused was I on my mental gymnastics of convincing myself I hated Twilight, I hardly paid attention to the surroundings I'd subconsciously led myself towards. If you were to ask me to close my eyes and say where I was, I genuinely would have not known.

Rainbow Dash, on the other hand, knew perfectly well where we were.

She recognized the posh streets and high-end shops; the large houses worth more money than every apartment in her complex combined. All these things and more she knew, but none she knew better than the terrifying sight of a large white mansion looming in the distance.

"Wait, wait! Stop!" she blurted out, rushing up and planting herself in front of me. The alarm in her face was enough to force me to comply, even in the midst of my hateful haze.

"What? What's wrong now?"

"Rares, please. This isn't a good idea. You might think it is, but it's not."

"What? What are you talking about?!" I asked, irritated. "What isn't a good idea?!"

In response, dear well-meaning Rainbow Dash doomed us all.

"Wha—What do you mean?! The mansion!"

I blinked at her. "The mansion?"

She blinked right back at me. I could see it in her eyes, the quiet dawning comprehension followed next by the colorful expletive ringing off in her head. It's very likely that, had she not said a thing, I'd have walked past the mansion and not even realized I'd done so.

But thank goodness that wasn't the case, because that would make for a dreadfully boring story.

No, dear friend. As Rainbow Dash stared at me, horrified by what she'd revealed, I looked around and felt time stand still at the sight of Twilight Sparkle's mansion.

I thought it was a joke, at first. A cruel joke of destiny, leading me to Twilight's house so as to mock me. But I quickly changed my mind.

No.

It wasn't a cruel joke that led me here. It was destiny telling me to go and defend myself. It had brought me here for one reason and one reason only: to tell Twilight Sparkle in no uncertain terms what I thought of her.

I walked past Rainbow, single-minded in my mission, the anger inside me building and building until I reached the silver gates. They were locked, but that didn't overly bother me. The lock was broken, you see. There was a way of twisting it into opening, a little error in design that I'd discovered and kept to myself as a child.

Rainbow's voice faded into the background when I reached towards the lock and twisted it with magic, my heart pounding in my chest when it unlocked.

When it fell to the ground.

"Rarity," Rainbow Dash commanded, and gone was my friend, replaced instead by the vicious head of security of the Sapphire Carousel. The warmth was gone from her face, the kindness from her voice, and when she slammed her foot on the ground, two truly large ethereal wings sprung from her back, extended for me to see. "You know what? No. I'm not playing around anymore. You’re coming home with me now.”

She made a move towards me, her hand reaching out, and I immediately recoiled.

“Don’t you dare touch me, Rainbow Dash,” I hissed. “Don’t you dare. Why shouldn’t I go?! Why shouldn’t I be allowed to know why she—!”

“Rares—”

“I loved her!” I said, the three words for the first time spoken out, and she immediately stopped. “I loved her. You know what I’ve done! You know who I am! Don’t you care that she— she threw me away like— I loved her.”

A moment went by. She breathed in deeply, and finally spoke:

“Fine. I’m not going to stop you, Rarity.” She jumped and flew up in the sky, hovering above me. “But you better still goddamn be here when I come back with a carriage to pick up your sorry ass when you regret all of this.”

And with one last glance, she took off into the skies.

I looked away from her fading form and towards the mansion, my hand gripping the gate. I scanned the dim windows until I finally settled on the lights of a room on the third floor.

Twilight's room.

And my anger returned anew, given voice by the sound of the silver gate creaking wide open.

I was well and truly alone now with nothing else but my harrowed memories, whispering with every step.

A step forward, for when we met on that stupid bench.

Another, for when we went looking for Sweetie Belle together.

Another, for all the times we giggled at the café, and another for all the times we had picnics in the park, and another for our stupid date on that stupid lake, and another and another and another for all these stupid silly moments I stupidly thought meant she cared about me as much as I cared for her.

I loved her. I'd loved her, and I thought she'd loved me, and I was wrong, and it was unbearable and so by the time I reached the door, I was enraged.

I slammed the front door open without any regard for the delicate wall the doorknob smashed itself against and then marched straight in.

Flint must have been close, as not even a minute went by before he rushed into the foyer, alarmed. Who in their right mind would dare make such an entrance, he must have thought.

"What in God's name—"

He choked on his words when he saw me standing defiantly in the middle of the lobby, looking like an absolute disaster from my hair, to my makeup, to my clothes, to my very psyche.

Flint knew this day would come. He'd said as much when I was a misbehaving child, wagging his fat finger at me and scolding me in his gruff, low voice.

"One day," he'd say, "one day, you're going to do something so naughty, only God will be able to help you."

But he was wrong.

If there was a God, he'd clearly forsaken me a long, long time ago.

"Dear lord," he whispered, pale like a ghost. He stumbled back, pressing a hand against the wall for support. In retrospect, I'm glad I didn't give him a heart attack. "I knew I should have stayed in bed today."

"Where is she?" I hissed.

This seemed to snap him back to reality, and he quickly composed himself. A great frown marred his face, and what a blast from the past when he wagged his thin frail finger my way.

"What are you doing here?!" he shot back, but only as a whisper. "What's the meaning of this, child?! Do you know what time it is?!" He took a second look at me, and gasped. "Have you been drinking?"

"Where. Is. She?" I repeated myself, and again when he walked past me and went straight for the door.

"Enough!" he snapped, gesturing to the cold outdoors. "This is no way to come in here! I will not tolerate this behavior, and especially not at eleven thirty at night! Get out!" He stopped and then added. "No. Wait for me by the carriages! I bloody well can't let you wander out at night like this."

"I'm not going anywhere!" I shot back. "Why do you all want to get rid of me?! What have I ever done to any of you?!"

It would seem that struck something within him, much like earlier with Rainbow Dash. His expression softened, and I looked away before it could get to me, before I lost grasp of my anger.

"Where is she?!" I demanded, looking out into the lobby. I yelled it, wanting my voice to fill every inch of these halls Twilight called hers. "I deserve to see her! I deserve to tell her that—"

And then came Her voice.

Gentle, concerned, motherly.

Celestial.

"Flint? Flint, what's happening?!"

If there was a color whiter than white, Flint had found it.

"Dear Lord, now you've done it," he whispered, and indeed I had for who rushed in at the top of the stairs but Lady Celestia herself, hurriedly closing the silk robe she'd put over her nightgown right up until the moment she saw me.

I'd forgotten.

I had! How silly, isn't it? How absolutely absurd, but I had.

I was so consumed by Twilight Sparkle, and how she'd slighted me, how she'd rejected me, that I saw all of these things as hers and hers alone: the mansion, the pain, everything.

Twilight Sparkle, she who'd walked on water, had done the impossible once again: she made me forget about Lady Celestia.

I felt as shocked as she looked, the two of us gaping at each other across the crevasse that was her mansion and our fractured relationship. I was wholly and absolutely unprepared. Twilight, I knew how to handle. Twilight, I'd spent the entire godforsaken day practicing and perfecting exactly every word I'd tell her.

But Lady Celestia?

There were no words to be said.

There was just pain.

And something else, as well. Something that I long ago thought I'd burned away and only resurfaced when she took several steps down the stairs, her face twisting with concern.

"Rarity?" she asked, and there was no anger in her voice.

No disgust, no rejection, no shame and disappointment.

There was concern.

There was love.

"Rarity?" she asked again, and my stars, my stars, my stars. She lifted her glasses off her head and put them on, like she had so many times before when she wanted to give me her full attention, and when she spoke again, it killed me. "What's wrong? What's happened?!"

There was love, and my God, it burned me and it burned me even more when tears filled my eyes as I realized I'd longed for those words, I'd longed for that tone of concern, now more than ever as my heart bled to death.

"Wh-what's wrong?!" I spat, or tried to at least, grasping this anger that was slipping in between my fingers. My voice cracked, and I could barely get the words out. It wasn't even that the woman I loved didn't love me back.

It was that she didn't even want anything to do with me.

"What's wrong—?!" I choked. "What's… What's wrong…"

Of course I couldn't see it then—it's not as if I could stop everything and ask for a few minutes to reflect—but I wonder if that was destiny's design. If I'd subconsciously gone to the mansion not to confront Twilight, or to yell at the world, but for that.

Maybe the reason I was there was because days after the worst imaginable pain I'd ever gone through in my life, all I really wanted was to cry in the arms of my mother in all but name.

Even if just for a little while.

It would seem the Lady wanted that, too, for as soon as my voice cracked, as soon as I broke into sobs, she did not walk down the stairs.

She ran.

And when her arms stretched out towards me, I rushed forward, buried myself in her chest, and feeling her arms wrap around me, I wept like I hadn't since the night of the performance. I was barely cognisant of anything else save for her embrace, gentle and warm and lovingly guiding me to a quieter room within the mansion where we sat on a couch and I continued to cry.

I…

Relationships are complicated, aren't they?

These messy tangled webs of feelings and emotions because people have entirely too many feelings and emotions and not nearly as many ways of properly communicating said feelings and emotions.

I suppose it's easy for me to say all of this now that I'm looking back. Now that my story is done, in more ways than one.

In that moment, everything was fine.

In that moment, as I wept and she held me, we both understood each other. Words, I've found, complicate things. Twilight would vehemently protest this, I'm sure, but they do.

I feel like I'm going around in circles. Am I? I might be. Distracting you, for what follows next is not…

It's not pleasant.

And it starts with Flint Sparks.

He came back, looking pained. His eyes flitted towards me and then back to the Lady.

"Ah, ma'am..." He cleared his throat. "She should be back soon."

Celestia's embrace changed. Her grip tightened around me, nervousness flashed through her eyes, but she soon hid it, as she did most things. She smiled thinly.

"Thank you, Flint." Her gaze turned to me and then returned to him. "It's late. Can you prepare the carriage? We should take Rarity home. She needs sleep."

The words tumbled out my lips.

"Who should be back soon?"

Lady Celestia froze. Then spoke as if she hadn't.

"Ah! A guest." She licked her lips, smiling kindly. "Someone is staying here with us. Anyhoo!" She made a move to get up. "Come now—"

"It's your student," I continued, and again, she froze. "Isn't it? Twilight Sparkle. I know you took her in. I've known for a while."

I could see it in her eyes when she looked at me again. The immediate panic, like a frightened wild animal, gauging me. But what was there to gauge? There was no anger in my voice. If anything, there was hope.

Desperation, even.

"She…" The Lady faltered, but she forced the words out. "Yes."

"I can wait, then. I would greatly enjoy meeting her. Really.”

Bear in mind, I meant no ill will towards Twilight. It was not my intent to meet her with Lady Celestia there as any sort of mean-spirited joke or such thing. Twilight Sparkle, the woman I love, didn't matter to me at that moment.

This was about Lady Celestia letting me meet her student.

Sure! Yes. Of course. Twilight would have a heart attack and a half, but she’d surely play along when I did. She’d understand! Surely, she’d allow me that. When and if the Lady introduced me, that was all that would matter.

That she wouldn’t try to hide me away anymore.

Like the pictures she’d taken off.

Like the door she’d locked.

The child she’d all but erased, save for the little bracelet she still wore round her wrist.

We were strangers when we first met, but now we could once again be the best of friends.

Please.

The panic remained in the Lady’s eyes when faced with my request. If anything, it grew. A shamed panic that was not unwholly unfamiliar to me. The one that consumes you, whispers in your soul because you are about to be caught in a lie.

But it was unnecessary.

As I said, there was no anger in my voice, nor in my eyes, nor in my heart. I wanted to forgive her. In that moment, I already had.

"I see." She was honest, I'll give her that. Honest with her damning statement. "She doesn't know about you. I… I haven't told her."

She spoke with great care, every word a carefully placed domino that threatened to tip over the others and ruin her grand, delicate design.

"Because of my profession."

She didn't reply, which I suppose was a statement in itself.

I imagine she expected me to be angry. Furious, even, livid.

I could have gotten angry. In fact, for the briefest of moments, I felt angry. Obviously, I already knew she'd said nothing of me to Twilight, but to have her confirm it herself, well… it stung. It stung, but I held it in. Suppressed my anger.

As I said, I'd forgiven her already. I was desperate.

Surely she'd accept me now, exactly as I was. After everything we'd lost, after how much we clearly missed each other, surely something as trivial as my profession didn't matter anymore. Surely she accepted me now.

Surely.

I wiped my tears away. "It's fine. I'm not angry. I understand why you did it, but it’s over now, isn’t it?” I… I almost waited for her reply, but then I quickly continued, afraid of what a pause might bring. “I'd love to meet her."

I smiled, wiping my eyes.

"I'll go clean myself up a bit?”

"Rarity. It's nearly midnight," she said, firm.

"I… Of course! Of course, you're right. I can clean up, but not that well!" I conceded, laughing even though my hands were trembling. She had a point, I told myself. "I can come some other day, then. Can't I? When would be appropriate?"

The Lady swallowed, both at my request and my choice of word.

"I'm flexible," I insisted.

"...I'm sure you are, Rarity," she said, despite herself, "but… It's not… It's not that simple."

"It won't ever be simple!" I exclaimed with frustration, and I then quickly composed myself, keeping the tears at bay. "I'm sorry. Please. I… It doesn't have to be difficult. I promise. When can I come? Please."

I was so blind. Or, more likely, I was shutting my eyes oh so tight.

"Rarity." She breathed in. "Please. Don't be difficult. It's not that simple."

"I'm not being difficult!" I exclaimed, standing up. "Why can't I meet her?! Why won't you let me?! What's the problem?!"

"You're not like her!" she shot back, and though she immediately tried to compose herself, what was said was said. "Rarity, please—"

"I'm not like her?" I repeated, softly and slowly initially, taking in this statement and its thousands of suffocating layers. I no longer cared to hide my tears. They filled my eyes, as burning hot as my soul. "What do you mean I'm not like her?!"

Her voice quieted.

"You know exactly what I mean."

I laughed. "Do I? Because I really think I don't! Please! Please, explain, Auntie Tia! She's not like me? Well then, she must be some sort of terrible person because I'm not. I'm a good person! Aren't I?! I work hard! I'm kind to the people I meet! I try to be informed! I try to be educated! I volunteer at the local shelter when I can! I'm not—! I'm far from perfect, but I'm a good person! I am!" My voice cracked. "Does none of that matter?!"

"Of course, it matters," she replied "but—"

"But what?! What?! I'm a lady, just like you taught me to be! I—"

"A lady?!" sharply interrupted the Grand Lady Herself. She stepped up to me, tall and imposing and terrifying. "A proper lady would never dream of working at a brothel!"

"Oh, really? Really? Then I suppose Auntie Luna isn't a lady, either?!"

"My sister may own a brothel, Rarity, but she certainly has more self-respect than to go to bed with complete strangers for petty cash!"

I'm sorry. Allow me a moment to compose myself, won't you, dear friend?

Thank you. Shall we continue?

What Lady Celestia did after that no longer mattered, but I'll tell you, regardless, if only to paint you a complete picture.

No sooner had the words left her lips, she regretted them. Her eyes grew wide, her anger vanished, and she immediately backpedalled, especially when she saw my reaction.

When I'd run into that mansion earlier that day, Lady Celestia wondered with horror what could someone possibly have done to cause me such pain. She no longer had to wonder.

I pressed my hand against my mouth and stepped back, completely shattered. That was a trend recently, wasn't it? Shattering me. Were I a mirror that I could at least give them all seven years of bad luck in retribution. Ah well. Where was I?

"Wait, I'm sorry!" said the Lady almost immediately. "Please. Please, I didn't mean that. O-Of course you can meet her. Rarity!" Tears clouded her eyes when I turned around and walked out the room. "Rarity! Wait! Please!"

I was blinded by rage. By pain. By humiliation. I knew I needed to get out lest I decide to bring everyone down with me more than I already had. Lady Celestia ran after me, calling my name, begging me to stop, but I didn't not just because to hell with her, but because if I stopped, I was certain I would say very, very terrible things.

Nothing in that godforsaken mansion would ever make me pause again save for the young woman I crashed into just as I stepped into the lobby.

I don't think I need to tell you who it was, do I?

I crashed straight into her, my dear beloved having just come home from a long day that was about to get longer. Any apology we had died in our throats at the sight of each other.

She'd just come home from a walk. I could tell because she never took a purse when she went on walks, so instead she resorted to wearing a big blue coat with large pockets she'd stuff her essentials in. I would slip in sweets when she wasn't looking so she'd have a treat when she got peckish.

"Rarity!" Lady Celestia exclaimed, running up and practically screeching to a stop when she saw Twilight standing before me. "T-Twilight! You're home!"

There they were, two women I loathed as much as I loved, and there I was, sandwiched in between them.

So I made a choice.

"Well, well, well," I hissed, stepping forward as she stepped back. "You must be Twilight Sparkle."

'Til every inch of that mansion was crimson with our blood.

"The prodigal student of the great Lady Celestia."

It was fascinating to see how Twilight immediately transformed.

The fear disappeared, the anxiety, all of it gone and replaced with nothing. She was wondrous like that, she was. When it came down to it, when it depended on it, she could get rid of her emotions and let herself become a living machine that analyzed and assessed and observed.

The Lady moved towards me. "R-Rarity, please—"

"I don’t expect you know who I am, do you?" I asked Twilight and then I turned to Lady Celestia. "Come now! Tell her, Lady Celestia! Tell her who I am!"

"Rarity—"

"Fine! I'll tell her myself, then." I whipped around to Twilight and proclaimed for the world to know: "I used to be you."

She didn't reply, and that infuriated me more. Her damned façade. I wanted to break it. I wanted to make her cry like she'd made me cry. So I walked in circles around her while she stood in place, her eyes carefully following me as I continued my vicious tirade.

"I used to be you, the Lady's protegé! Did you know I used to live here? I lived here for practically my entire life! This was my home. And then your teacher decided I didn't exist. Decided that it was better to pretend she didn't know me! And do you know why?"

I stopped in front of Twilight. In front of Celestia.

"Tell her," I asked Celestia. "Tell her why."

The lady couldn't speak. She was crying. I didn't care.

"Tell her!" I demanded again, slamming my foot against the floor. "Tell her why you've rejected me! Tell her why it doesn't matter that I'm a good person or anything else about me! Tell Twilight Sparkle why exactly you told me I'm not like her!"

And when she didn't, I turned to Twilight and told her myself.

"It's because I'm a fucking whore! That's why!" I stepped forward, bleeding, bleeding, bleeding. I could barely get the words out after that, but I did anyway. I hoped they stung. "Because the things I do with my body matter more than the things I do with my heart!"

What a deathly silence came after that.

I broke it soon enough.

"But it's fine. Now she has you, doesn't she? Well, I hope you're better than me, Twilight!" I stepped towards her, but she didn't step back. Didn’t look away even when Celestia spoke up. Eyes on me and only me. "I bet you're everything she ever wanted, aren't you? I bet that you're oh so wonderful, and oh so smart, and oh so fantastic at magic, and—and—"

And I bet she would agree to meet at six and arrive fifteen minutes too early even though she knew I was always ten minutes late.

I bet that when she spoke about subjects she loved, her smile shone so much it was blinding.

I bet she could sing beautifully in dimly lit trains while stupid, lovesick women watched.

I bet she was wonderful, and smart, and funny, fantastic at magic, and that I loved her so much, it hurt.

I bet that she loved me, and that she knew that I loved her, and that none of that mattered anymore.

I trailed off, the weight of it all finally collapsing upon me, and literally so when my legs gave in and I fell.

It would have been nice if I fell to my knees by my lonesome, or if I fell sprawled to the floor. It would have been very pathetic, most certainly, but at least I'd be able to wallow in my patheticness and feel shamelessly sorry for myself.

Twilight prevented that by immediately catching me and holding me steady, then gently lowering us down until we were on our knees. It was intimate. It was visceral, really.

And it was there in her arms that I knew it was over.

The time to whine and cry and complain was done now, and all that was left was to pick up the pieces and be a big girl.

"I'm sorry," I said, and though everyone could hear me, my words were hers and hers alone. I laughed, and my eyes stung from tears. "I guess I don't take rejection well, do I?"

That was what made her crack.

Her eyes watered, her grip tightened, but in these things there was no victory to be found. No sense of satisfaction. In cracking Twilight Sparkle, and Celestia to an extent, I had also cracked myself.

That's what I'd always be to them, wasn't it? Not a person working a job, not a woman living her life, not someone who was defined by more than a choice.

To them, I would always be that vile slur I'd called myself. I had always known that, and yet I still went there expecting something else, and when I decided to hurt them both—which I did—it never occurred to me that the person I'd hurt the most was myself.

I'd betrayed my values, my principles and beliefs, I'd let their prejudices get to me, and to make matters worse, I'd hurt Twilight.

I took a steadying breath and then forced myself up, Twilight letting me go and following suit.

I turned to the Lady when she sniffled, the both of us looking at each other as we earlier had when I'd first arrived. There was still love there. That's the worst part of it, I think. The fact that there was still life beating in the mangled pulsing flesh that was the heart of our relationship.

Everything I was, I was because of her.

That was the problem, wasn't it?

"I shouldn't have come here," I said. "It was stupid of me. I'm sorry I did."

I didn't mean that in a hateful or spiteful way. It was just… true. Coming there had been a mistake in more ways than one.

When she said nothing in reply, I took a deep breath and turned to Twilight. She was still crying, the poor thing, quiet tears streaming down her face. I felt awful for her, so much so that I wished I could tell her it was over, and so I did.

I smiled genuinely.

"You know. Despite everything, I'm glad I met you. I hope you—I hope you enjoy living here as much as I did." Then, just as she had the night of the performance, I raised my hand for one last handshake. "Goodbye."

Her eyes widened, and her eyes welled with tears yet again. My, my, how the tables had turned. When she did nothing, I re-emphasized my gesture.

"Please," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Goodbye, Twilight."

When again she refused, I breathed in and balled my hand into a fist, lowering it shortly afterwards.

"That's quite alright." I swallowed the lump in my throat and walked towards the door, which promptly opened before me with the flick of my wrist. I waited until I was right about to leave before stopping to say: "So then, ladies. I won't be bothering you again. Have a good night."

And that was it.

At half-past midnight, my darling dear beloved got what she thought she wanted: the perfect goodbye.

I had single-handedly ended our relationship in such a way that I'd solved any and all issues that could arise from us meeting. I'd solved her issue about having to lie to Celestia about meeting me, I'd solved the pesky thoughts that kept her up at night, whispering about whether she'd done right or not; I'd literally done away with it all.

She could now return to her life as a student and not have to deal with me at all because we'd said goodbye.

So as she stared at her hand, the one she'd once extended to me and had that night refused to give, she realized that cutting someone off was one thing, but having someone cut you off was another thing entirely.

"Twilight!"

She looked up to find Flint talking to her, his voice intermingling with her pounding heart. Lady Celestia was gone, she noticed, having left almost immediately after I did, breaking into tearful apologies and rushing off.

Twilight blinked at him. Then at the door.

"What happened?!" he demanded, and she could do naught but stare. "Aren't you supposed to be friends?! What in God's name is going on?! Twilight!"

His voice faded out as she made for the front door, slamming it open as I earlier had and running out into the night.

"Rarity?!"

But I was gone.

I couldn't have gone too far, she thought, and so she rushed along the path to the gate right up until she stepped on something that cracked beneath her shoe. She immediately stepped back and felt her stomach drop when she picked up the now-cracked golden tube of crimson lipstick I'd had since I was thirteen.

Lady Celestia said it herself. I wasn't a lady, was I?

No, no, no, no.

She shoved the lipstick tube into her pocket and rushed off. The gates opened before her with a snap of her fingers, and she sped past them and into the street. She was right when she guessed I wasn't too far. I was still on the same street, but to her dismay, Rainbow Dash had made good on her promise.

There I was, sobbing my eyes out in Rainbow Dash's arms while Lady Luna stood besides us, barking orders to the coachman of the carriage. Once she was done doing so, she looked around and her eyes fell on my beloved, paralyzing her in her spot.

Rainbow Dash was next, still holding me tight, and Twilight felt shame when the sight of her made Rainbow Dash very visibly tighten her grip around me. Lady Luna said something to the younger woman, and immediately Rainbow ushered me into the carriage, taking great care of not letting me see Twilight.

Twilight half-expected the Lady to follow suit and was thus surprised when the Lady simply closed the carriage door and then made her way towards her.

An even greater shame flooded my beloved. It was likely Lady Luna knew what she'd said to me, didn't she?

In fact, this was the first thing she expected Lady Luna to say to her when she stood before her. To say that I was right to say all those things, and she was a prejudiced bigot, and all manner of things that were technically and awfully true.

But Lady Luna didn't.

"Twilight Sparkle." She gave Twilight a once-over. "I would ask how you are, but I think we can both agree that would be unnecessary."

"Will she be okay?" Twilight blurted out, and when the Lady said nothing and simply raised an eyebrow, she continued. "Please. Will she?"

My Lady observed her a moment, then spoke: "I expect she will be. Rarity is many things, including especially a fool, but she is anything if not tough. It will take some time, but yes, she will be fine. Now, if that is all—"

"No," Twilight blurted out, reaching out and grabbing my Lady. When the lady blinked at her—not offended, just intrigued—Twilight immediately let go and stepped back, ashamed. "I'm sorry! I—Ah."

"No?" asked my Lady. "Do you bring a message from my sister? Did she send you?"

"No," Twilight repeated. "No, I—It was my choice. I came here."

"So you did. But to do what, exactly?"

"I-I don't know, I—"

"Is this not what you wanted? As you said yourself, It was you who made the choice, not Rarity," interrupted my Lady, the sudden harshness in her voice betraying the fact that though she sometimes thought me a blundering fool, I was still her blundering fool.

My darling, obviously, had nothing to say to that. She was right. She had made the choice, and she knew this. So, when Twilight offered no protests, my Lady's anger diminished if only because she knew another insurmountable fact:

"You love her, don't you. That is why you came here."

And again, Twilight had no reply to give.

Because she was right.

"I'm not presumptuous enough to pretend I know everything about you, Twilight, but it seems to me this is not the ending you want, is it?"

"I… I don't know."

She thought it was, but, well, there she was, was she not?

"Personally," my Lady continued, "I think the further away Rarity is from my sister and her influences, the better. But I've learned that people will do what they want regardless of what I think. So instead, allow me a suggestion, which I hope you will follow as you seem to be more sensible than both my sister and my protegé."

She gestured to the mansion and then to the carriage.

"This. This is the product of acting on your emotions without knowing exactly what you want. So for the sake of everyone." She lowered her hand. "For your sake and Rarity's, wait until you know what you truly want before you act, if you act at all. And be prepared for the fact that there may not be a solution you like."

"I know."

"Good. Then that is all I can ask for. I'll take my leave."

With a curt bow, my Lady turned around and strode off five entire steps before abruptly stopping and turning around again.

"My sister… My sister is not truly a bad person. But I believe she is misguided, and she'd sooner die on her hill of thorns before contending with the fact that she may be wrong. In many ways, you are much like your teacher, Twilight Sparkle."

Twilight winced.

"But," said my Lady with a smile, "I have the impression you can be better."

*ambles in even more months late with a starbucks and a worldwide plague*

hey guys, sorry i took so long, anyway I brought even more p a i n

also shoutout to everyone who went through the last five chapters of TEK and thought they'd seen the last MonoDrama for a while eyooooooooo -finger guns-

I fell gravely ill when I was thirteen. I almost died.

I was in bed for several month, at least. Plagued by a disease my parents understood little, and I even less, so dazed by pain I could hardly understand the doctor explaining my condition to my parents and Lady Celestia. He said it would be a miracle if I survived. Would there be a plaque for me, too?

'Here lies little Rarity, taken to a better place by life's cruel disease. Died on a bed, not on a bench.'

I don’t remember much of it all. I remember bits and pieces, fragmented memories of a horrible time, but not all of it. I wonder if the Lady played a part in that. If my lacking memory of those deathly months was by magical design, as opposed to the natural passage of time.

Here are some things I remember:

I remember coughing up blood for so long, I can taste the iron if I think about it too much.

I remember the shame and contrition I felt every time someone noticed blood on my lips. Their gasps of horror.

I remember, one day, my father carrying me out of Lady Celestia’s carriage; how I insisted on giving the Lady a goodbye kiss despite my great pain, and how I wept with fear when pulling away revealed blood on her cheek.

I stole my mother’s red lipstick the next day and put it on, hoping the blood would blend in with lipstick, and it did. But when I kissed my mother’s cheek and saw what I thought was blood marks, I cried. And when I truly did cough up blood, I tried to rub it away, smeared red lipstick all over my face, and I wept even more.

My mother must have told the Lady, for she came to visit us the day after.

She brought materials with her, a whole basket filled with waxes and butters, oils and natural colorants, and our little messy kitchen became a workshop. It took us all day, as I was weak and needed to rest, but by nightfall, we’d done it.

Dozens of glittery and colorful lipsticks in an assortment of colorful lipstick tubes, which I would be allowed to wear in modest amounts. Of course, the one that mattered the most to me wasn’t any of the colorful lipsticks in colorful tubes, but the crimson lipstick I carefully put inside my brand new golden lipstick tube.

“And now,” the Lady has said, “it’s time for the magic touch.”

She smiled widely, instructing me in a spell of her own design while my mother watched with awe. Magic erupted from my fingertips, sprinkling onto the lipsticks like freshly fallen snow.

When the spell was over, I put on the red lipstick, and when I kissed my mother, no mark was left behind.

And when I coughed up blood and wiped my lips, no red stained my face.

My illness faded a few months after that, leaving me alone for the time being, but my lipsticks remained. A symbol, of sorts, of the fact that I’d survived. That I, like the Lady, was undefeatable.

That lipstick tube reminded me that I’d survived death.

And now Twilight Sparkle had it.

She hadn’t been able to give it to Lady Celestia, who withdrew for a few days after my drunken incident. She hadn’t been able to give it to Lady Luna, afraid of going back to the Sapphire and facing my wrath.

And she hadn’t been able to throw it away.

Just like the key in her pocket, a constant reminder of the lock on the bridge she still couldn’t bring herself to go and unlock.

One day, I’ll give this back, she said to herself.

One day, I’ll take out the lock, she said to herself.

One day, one day, one day.

But not today, she thought, pressing the lipstick against her heart. Not today.

When dear Aqua Swing settled down at the Sapphire’s lobby desk that Monday morning, putting down her cup of tea and organizing her papers, she hadn’t expected much of the day. It was a day like any other, she thought, with events she could prepare for such as:

- Clients being late, as always.
- Rainbow Dash ‘dealing’ with a few bad apples.
- Rainbow Dash flirting with Shimmer Glass, and Aqua having to scold her to get her on her way.
- My good self descending from my room at some point and sullenly declaring that I hated the world and everyone in it.
- Big Mac helping move some furniture around.
- Lady Luna staying in her office all day like usual.
- Lady Celestia striding into the Sapphire Carousel.

Ah.

Well, in retrospect, I suppose that last thing she wasn’t entirely prepared for.

No one could remember the last time Lady Celestia ever went to the Sapphire Carousel. In fact, the very idea that Lady Celestia, she who was so pure and pristine, would ever deign herself to step inside our home was so ridiculous, so laughable, that when the front doors opened and she strode in with fire in her eyes, well…

No one was laughing then.

And they weren’t surprised, either.

Everyone knew what had happened; what I’d done. No one hides their secrets from the Sapphire Carousel for very long. It’s alive, breathing and whispering, seducing the secrets of your soul and burying them within its indigo walls.

Aqua had never spoken to the Lady before, and when the Lady walked over to her, tall and angry and imposing, she felt the slightest bit faint.

“Lady Celestia!” she exclaimed, the stammer in her voice pronounced. “H-Hello! Welcome to the Sapphire Carousel. How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for my sister,” said the Lady. “Is she here?”

“Your sister?” Aqua asked, having thought the Lady would ask for me. At the Lady’s expectant stare, she cleared her throat and riffled through her papers which was silly and entirely unnecessary, but she did so anyway. “Ah! Yes! Lady Luna! Yes. Uhm. Yes, she’s in her office. Why don’t I let her know that—”

“There’s no need,” the Lady cut-off, walking off towards the backdoor. “I’ll go see her now.”

Aqua stood up, frazzled. “Wait, Lady Celestia! Please!”

But it was to no avail, for the Lady was already crossing into the entrails of the brothel. What a show it was! And what awful actors my friends all were, not a single one able to keep themselves from watching, from peeking behind the corners as the woman in white traveled the sombre hallways.

The Lady’s name echoed out, repeated over and over by the men and women who greeted her as respectfully as one could when one was half if not nearly completely naked. Why was she here? What would she tell Lady Luna? Did she bring the student along? Should they tell me she’d come?

The Lady ignored them, of course. She was aware of them, yes, but she was single-minded in her pursuit of answers. Answers she intended to get when she knocked on Lady Luna’s door three times and then opened the door, not bothering to wait for permission.

She found her younger sister seated at her desk, reading a newspaper. Lady Luna briefly glanced at her before returning to the article she was reading.

“Please,” she said. “Do come in.”

“You have some nerve, Lulu,” Lady Celestia hissed, closing the door behind her. “Why do you insist on being this way? You could have come to my house for three hours! It wouldn’t have killed you!”

“You’re right.” My Lady licked her thumb and turned the page. “It wouldn’t have.” She looked up, and at the sight of Lady Celestia’s murderous expression, she sighed and put her newspaper down. “Why are you here, Tia?”

“You know damn well why I’m here.”

“Then you should already know this is a fruitless endeavor. I refused to be involved in your squabble six years ago, and I refuse to do so now.”

“She came to the mansion, Luna! Drunk, and ranting, and crying. She looked like she’d gone through hell and back! What in God’s name happened to her?!”

“Who knows,” my Lady said acidly. “I hear it’s a hard life, going to— How did you put it? Going to bed with strangers for petty cash.”

I do adore Lady Luna. Really, I do.

Lady Celestia didn’t, unfortunately. Her white cheeks turned red, her nails dug into her balled up fists, and her throat burned with thousands of choice words she couldn’t bring herself to voice.

“What?” Lady Luna prompted. “What did you expect? Sympathy?”

“Of course not. And I know what I told her was a mistake,” the Lady managed. “Alright? I am well aware! Is that what you wanted to hear? In fact, I’ve not slept over how much I regret that.”

My Lady folded her arms on the table.

“Regret what, exactly, Tia? The fact that that was what you thought, or the fact that you accidentally voiced it in front of her?”

“God,” said Lady Celestia venomously. “You really are something else, aren’t you, Luna?”

“Again, I don’t know what you expected.”

“Just tell me what’s wrong with her,” the Lady hissed.

There was a long pause as my Lady considered it all. Considered me, considered Twilight Sparkle, and considered Lady Celestia.

Finally, she asked:

“Do you really not know?”

“Do you really think I would put myself through this charade if I did? Of course I don’t know! I have made it a point to not meddle with her life, you know this!”

Do you remember, dear friend? I remember mentioning it once. That after what happened with me, Lady Celestia made it a point to not gossip or dig up information on me. Or on Twilight.

“I have a right to know,” the Lady continued, furious. “I may not be perfect, but I’m not a monster, Luna. I care for that child, regardless of what you or even she thinks. And since you apparently know what happened, then you should know why I’m so concerned! So, tell me! Tell me, because either you do, or I will use other means to find out!”

If this were anything else they were arguing about, Lady Luna would have been more than glad to tell her to use her other means. But this was me. And this was Twilight. And though she didn’t have a high opinion of Twilight, she wasn’t keen on Lady Celestia finding things out through the likes of gossiping aristocratic snakes.

So she made a choice.

“Very well,” she said, careful with every word. “If you must know, someone she cared deeply for ended their friendship. That is all.”

“Ah. I see,” said the Lady with some amount of relief. Well, well! Losing a friendship wasn’t the end of the world. She’d been afraid something worse had happened. “Well, I am sorry to hear that.” She paused. “It was over her… sex work, wasn’t it?”

Lady Luna smiled thinly. “Ah. Of course you would immediately think that’s the reason. I suppose it makes sense you’d think that would be reason enough to cut someone off.” She narrowed her eyes, and despite herself, said: “Wouldn’t you, Celly?”

“Oh, Luna,” said Lady Celestia, laughing mirthlessly. “Really? Did that feel good? Acting like a child? And don’t think I don’t see you trying to avoid answering my question. Which I suppose is an answer in itself.”

“No, it is not.”

“Luna. Really.”

“It’s not!” my Lady thundered, losing her temper in the way only Lady Celestia could draw out.

“It is! I’m not an idiot, Luna. Even if your little spectacle right now hadn’t confirmed it, why else would she come drunkenly ranting to the mansion demanding to see me?! I was the first one to disagree with her ‘profession’, so of course she’s going to come and blame it on me when someone else disagrees!”

“You’ll never change, will you, Celestia?” my Lady boomed. “You’ve always been and always will be this way! Thinking the world revolves around you and you alone!”

And to the horror of the world.

To the horror of everyone involved, Lady Luna snapped.

“Of course you’d think she was there for you.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, and the gasps left the mouths of Rainbow Dash and the four other employees glued against the door, Lady Luna knew she’d crossed a line.

Lady Celestia gaped at her. “...Excuse me?”

“Out. Get out. Now,” Lady Luna quickly said, standing up from her desk. “Enough. Enough. I’m done. Leave.”

“Luna,” Celestia said, and gone was the animosity and the anger. This was fear. “Luna, what do you mean? Who else could she be there to see, for God’s sake?!”

“Leave, Celestia!”

“Answer me, Luna! Because I very much doubt it was Flint, so unless you are insinuating she was there to see Twilight—”

My Lady could take it no more. To hell with it, she thought. To hell with it all.

“Yes, it was Twilight!” she interrupted. “They’ve been friends for months, right under your very nose! Twilight’s magic student—!”

“Is a child, not an adult!”

“And is Sweetie Belle not a child?! You know she moved here two years ago! That’s how Twilight met Rarity! And Rarity lied to her about who she was, because she is an idiot, and when Twilight inevitably found out the truth, she cut her off! But that doesn’t matter anymore, does it?!” Lady Luna paused, enraged. She made her way around her desk until she was face to face with her sister. “In fact, I’m glad you know! I imagine you must be proud! Proud to know your student is just as bigoted as you!”

“That’s impossible! Twilight would have told me about Rarity if it were true!”

“Oh? Just like you told her about Rarity’s existence?” At Lady Celestia’s silence, my Lady laughed. “My, my, dear sister! Yet another similarity between you and your student! How wonderful!”

“Stop! Stop it, Luna! Do you think I’m an idiot?! Twilight was there when Rarity came to my house, and she didn’t know who Twilight was!”

“Celestia! Celestia. You ask me if I think you’re an idiot and then you say idiocies! She was pretending!” She turned away, back to her desk. “Stars!”

“Pretending?! Why?! This was after she stormed out! After I said what I said! You know Rarity as well as I do, and you know how petty she is when she’s been slighted! If any of this were true, she would have absolutely used that to hurt me!”

My Lady spun around. “Again! Again, you think this is all about you! Rarity went there for Twilight and Twilight alone, and the reason she pretended not to know her was to protect Twilight from your judgement!”

“From my judgement?! But Twilight rejected her, too!”

“Rejection never stopped Sapphire from loving you, did it?!” said the Lady of the night. “Because she was an idiot, and so is Rarity, and I don’t believe in gods, but if praying to gods is what I must do to ensure Rarity chooses someone who loves her without judgement, then by God, I will pray.” She raised her hand and the door flew open, barely giving my friends time to scurry away unseen. “Now leave!”

And she did.

Without another word—for, really, what could she even say?—Lady Celestia made her exit out of the office, past the hallways of the Sapphire Carousel, and out into the cold plaza where Flint waited by her carriage.

He did not speak when she stepped into the carriage, and when they drove past the statue of Sapphire Snow, Lady Celestia kept her gaze on her hands.

And she thought of me. Of what I’d said. Of all the words I’d bled out that had been twisted by this knowledge, by this new context. Of the goodbye I’ve given Twilight. Of how I nearly begged her to take my hand.

The lady thought a lot of Twilight.

Her prodigal student who hours later sat on the other side of the practically empty dining table in the practically empty dining room of the practically empty mansion.

Lady Celestia thought about how, in the past weeks, Twilight barely left the mansion.

“Twilight?”

The word rolled off her tongue almost unbidden, as she stared at her hot plate of lentil soup which she disliked but couldn’t bring herself to tell Flint.

Twilight looked up, and in her eyes Celestia saw an emptiness she’d never really seen before, but now couldn’t do anything but see because it was familiar, familiar, familiar.

I did say it, did I not? Just like her teacher, in more ways than one. Cut from the same cloth, they were, and as she’d said to me during our confrontation, I wasn’t like Twilight, and as her parents had yelled to the Lady so long ago, Sapphire wasn’t like her.

“I’m sorry. I guess I don’t take rejection well,” I’d said, and the Lady thought I was speaking to her, but I wasn’t, was I?

“Twilight?” had asked the Lady.

“Yes?” asked my beloved.

The lady swallowed the lump in her throat. “Twilight. I’m sorry I’ve been distant the past few days. I… What happened with…”

“With the woman who came the other night,” Twilight finished, and now she too seemed fascinated by the lentil soup. “Rarity.”

“Yes. I… I’m sorry you had to see that,” she said, for even if she was there for Twilight, it was still true. “Would you like to talk about it?”

She wanted Twilight to say yes. To confess it all, and to finally give her someone who understood. Someone she could advise, and pretend she’d done the right thing, and it was okay to be like her.

“No,” Twilight said instead.

The Lady was taken aback. “I… No?” she asked, because she loved me, and she’d made a mistake, and Twilight loved me, and the Lady knew she’d also made a mistake, and despite the fact that neither admitted to my role in their life, it wasn’t necessary to do so because they’d both made the same choice in the end.

There was no point in doing so. If one were to confess and speak about what they’d done, the other had to condone their actions or else be exposed as a hypocrite.

“Are you sure?” the Lady asked next, regardless. “You really don’t want to talk about it?”

“Yes,” Twilight said, a decisiveness in her voice. The very same that rang in mine when I lied to protect her. “She said goodbye to us, didn’t she? We should respect her wishes. She deserves that, at least.”

Thus a tacit consensus formed between student and teacher; an agreement to silence made in silence.

And that, dear friend, was the end of that.

there is no drama in Ba Sing Crimson