Rarity trundles down the (comparatively) empty hallway, following Twilight without really focusing on the alicorn or the occasional janitor tidying up in preparation for the big game or the concession-ponies setting up their wares. Far more of her attention goes to the white-and-gold decorations lining the walls, histories proclaiming their proudest moments and anguished defeats, posters picturing teams past and present posing around prizes and trophies. She can sense Twilight’s forlorn glance without really looking, knowing the alicorn would like nothing more than to stop by each and every glitzy display, though the often-gaudy decor does an admirable job of distracting from the fact that they are deep underground.

She hadn’t really paid much attention to anything Radiant Hope said, besides making sure nothing was going down, her mind too occupied by Tempest Shadow’s screed. Could she call it a screed? A screed about greed? Indeed, none should heed the steed’s greed screed, to succeed solely in deed as Harmony decreed. Ooh, she should remember that for when she recounts the tale to Pinkie Pie.

“So…” Twilight tentatively asks after nearly half a minute of silence, slowing so they can trot side by side. Cadance and Shining Armor, meanwhile, have only increased their frenetic pace, disappearing from sight around the curved hallway. “What did you think about what Tempest Shadow was saying?”

Rarity scoffs. “It was utterly preposterous.”

“Oh.” Twilight goes silent, but Rarity can see the gears in her head spinning. “All of it, or…”

“Why?” Rarity laughs. “She didn’t persuade you with her nonsense about Generosity, did she?”

She finds it disturbing when Twilight doesn’t immediately agree, and the follow up is even worse.

“Well,” Twilight says as she awkwardly scratches at the back of her mane, avoiding eye contact, “it’s just, I remember Pr- Celestia cautioning me against telling even the smallest, the kindest and most well-intentioned of lies. What Tempest was saying about Generosity and Friendship seemed like a continuation of that.”

Rarity huffs. “Oh, darling, pah-lease. What she was saying was like asking for a dress to be made without any stitching. Possible, maybe, if all you want is a simple frock whose leg and neck holes will fray in a week and wear out completely in a matter of months. I can’t see her teaching going any other way; nopony would be able to sustain it. I mean, can you imagine somepony actually giving away their possessions like that cave? What would they live on? What business could possibly stay afloat giving away their wares?”

“But,” Twilight disputes halfheartedly, “if everypony lived like that…”

Rarity laughs aloud. “Yes. If everypony lived perfect lives? No, scratch that - everycreature would need to live perfect lives, because you can be sure not everygriffon would be like the one from her story.”

Twilight nods, slow and unsure. “But if somepony was trying to persuade them to be that way and, say, started a certain school…”

Rarity sighs. It would be just like Twilight to second-guess herself. “But the difference is that you aren’t requiring them to meet such exacting standards. They would each hold to their own way. Could you imagine trying to get a dragon to not be greedy?”

“Spike wasn’t greedy,” Twilight counters, her face scrunching up. “But besides him. Would you lower your expectations because they aren’t ponies? Isn’t there something wrong with that?”

“It’s being reasonable.” Rarity looks down one of the many corridors to the stands and picks one that leads to the stadium green. A pair of security ponies give them quick nods, recognizing the alicorn. “Here, come this way.”

“Um,” Twilight says, glancing back the way Cadance went as she follows Rarity into the cavernous stadium. For a moment she just looks about, stunned at seeing ten thousand empty padded seats rise around them. You could fit everypony from Ponyville inside the stands and barely notice!

Some days the sheer size of the cities startles Rarity, too. A partly cloudy sky seems to rise up above them, majestic and beautiful, but she knows it is merely blue and white paint with soft lights mixed in to give the appearance of being outside. A fantastic illusion, for all it uses no active magic, and along with the high ceilings it does an excellent job of removing the oppressive atmosphere that seems to clog most of the crowded Lower Canterlot.

She offers the amazed alicorn a sly smirk. “I’m sure you saw the look Cadance was giving your brother. I’m sure they would appreciate a moment or two alone?”

Surprise briefly flashes across Twilight’s face, then a quite grateful smile as Rarity points at the bright yellow ‘sun’. She can barely make out how a blurred figure inside closes the shades of the Princess Box, one after another, until the sun shines with a uniform brightness she finds difficult to concentrate on.

Twilight’s ears fold down as Rarity chuckles. “I guess I can be pretty naive about that stuff.”

“Oh, no, darling,” Rarity quickly encourages. “I find it quite endearing.” She looks around for something to distract the still gloomy alicorn, settling on a dozen hoofballs. “Quick! Go long!”

Twilight looks bewildered at Rarity - she hopes her look isn’t too manic as said dozen hoofballs twirl about in her aura - then takes off at a respectable gallop across the marked field.

Oh, this takes Rarity back! She fondly remembers coming to this exact field with her sire dressed in her Canterlot Castles costume and showing off her control with her aura. Or, when she was the mascot for the Miners, doing much the same but only using her hooves. What great fun!

She hopes Twilight can’t see the tears as she streaks away. It has been many years since she last saw him play. Or vice versa.

She fires off the first ball as Twilight nears the midfield line, her power lacking but achieving a great spiral. Still got it!Twilight wheels around to catch it, horn snatching in an egregious violation of the within-limb rule. Her sire would have been all over her about that, how important it is to not give the ref even the barest thought of flagging you - since that could lead to ejection and loss of possession if too flagrant! - but she lets it slide. She grips the familiar ball in her hooves, coils like a spring before exploding out, and chucks the ball as hard as she can.

It is a great throw, probably, and might even get all the way to Twilight, but the pulled muscle in her hindquarters brings her whimpering to the ground long before the ball reaches its intended target.

“Rarity!” Twilight shouts, beating her voice as she teleports to the fallen unicorn’s side with a soft crack. Two balls follow along almost as an afterthought. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Rarity reassures, grateful for the excuse for why her mascara is running. Oh, and the offered hoof that hauls her to her hooves. She gamely stretches out the sore muscle. “Just should have stretched, that is all.” She melodramatically raises a hoof to her forehead, though she restrains herself from summoning a fainting couch to flop on. “Oh, the perils of getting old!”

Twilight giggles, though her eyes widen as she regards the ten balls still surrounded by a soft blue. “Wait, you kept hold of them?”

“Of course.” Rarity stacks the balls in a quick pyramid before letting her horn rest, smearing her makeup even further as she wipes away the tears. “It wouldn’t do to let your hold go just because somepony hit you, now would it?”

“Err, no.” Twilight looks a bit uncomfortable at the topic. “I suppose not.”

Rarity raises an eyebrow. “Really? Given your parents, I would have expected concentration to have at least played some role in your studies.”

“No, that was always my brother.” Twilight bobs her head back and forth as she recalls, “A bit backwards, I guess, but he took to the physical portion of our practice in a way that never really appealed to me.” She offers a sly wink. “I mean, Shiny had to win at some things, right?”

“Yes,” Rarity says, returning the wink, “stallions do have to have their victories.”

“Speaking of victories,” Twilight says, trailing off as her attention turns to the opposite side of the arena. She whistles appreciably as the three dozen Detrot Silverados trot two by two onto the green.

Rarity can certainly understand why. Bulk Bicep’s impressive stature stands out among the stallions in Ponyville, his front end competing with Big Mac’s back - though perhaps her interest would only be in the latter, as far as Doug’s formulation goes. But these behemoths? She would expect half of them to give Celestia a run for her bits, and the other half to have her clearly beat. And that’s just in the height department. They look like an entirely different breed, from their cantaloupe-sized heads with squinty eyes and pursed mouth, with barely any neck to speak of. Thick muscles strain every inch of their silver-and-steel uniforms, like they intentionally tailor them two sizes too small, threatening to explode apart if you glance at them the wrong way. They are so wide it would take more than one step to get around them, like you painted a face on somepony’s barrel and stood them sideways. They could conceivably wrestle Ursa Minors. Hay, there probably is an Ursa Minor mixed among them, and nopony noticed.

“That?” Rarity laughs, all bravado. She always thought of her sire as big, bigger than life if she believed the hype surrounding him. And today is no different. “That’s what we’re going to beat.”

She turns her attention to the team coming on their side of the field. The Canterlot Miners, clad in bright gold accented in blinding white, don’t have quite the bulk of their opponents. But what they lack in size they more than make up for in speed, agility, and a game sense that always seems to put the ball in the right space at the right time.

And there, trotting alongside head coach Bell Check and quarterback Mottled Braid, is her sire.

Her breath catches in her throat. It’s all she can do to not wave like a sun-struck filly.

Her sire exchanges a quick word with the two mares he is trotting with and, after getting a delayed nod from the coach, turns toward her. The rest of the team continues their warmup, occasionally stealing curious glances.

“Hey, sport!” Hondo Flanks calls as he slows. He removes the cumbersome helmet that protects his horn, his brown mane spilling free. His long, dashing mustache twiddles as his smile threatens to break.

What doesn’t break is her stance as he plows into her, both of them rearing up to embrace her other. “Hi, daddy,” Rarity greets, stretching her hooves halfway around his impressive barrel. The pads get in the way of him completely encircling her as he used to. She squeezes, which he returns with a gentle strength, nowhere near the crushing grip he is capable of. She goes to disengage, which he refuses, leaving her awkwardly looking around as he hugs her all the tighter.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he says, closer to a sob than when he twisted his hock and had to sit out three games. He gives her a final squeeze before letting her go, the two returning to their hooves. “How’s life treating you in the…” he glances at Twilight, as though the answer might reside with the alicorn, “...fabric industry?”

“Fashion industry,” Rarity corrects with a playful roll of her eyes. Her sire never really got fashion, what she does, though whomever tailored his uniform certainly did. That or he’s joking, she wouldn’t put it past him.

Hondo Flanks just chuckles, mussing with her mane that she good-naturedly allows. “You know, I should have suspected something was up when my grandfilly came by.”

Rarity blinks in surprise. “Sweetie Belle?”

Her sire bowls over her response, not unlike when he bowls over his hoofball opponents, but he does nod. “But I can’t talk now; we’ll catch up after the game.” He flicks his mane at the rest of the team, as they go through basic warm up drills. “You’ll be cheering from the stands?”

“The Princess Box,” Rarity explains with a grin.

Hondo Flanks whistles appreciably. “Give the rest of the herd my best,” he says before departing, joining Leedmare in the line of receivers.

All she wants to do is watch him run about, have fun, and ignore everything else that’s going on.

It works, for a while. But Twilight, ruiner of everything, has to ruin everything.

“So…” Twilight says with a glance to the stands as they slowly fill up, security ponies ushering ponies around but not yet addressing them standing on the field, “should we go to the Princess Box now, or…”

“Just…” Rarity says, not wanting to take her eyes off her sire. “Give them a bit longer. As long as Doug takes?”

Twilight snorts. “But then the game will have started.” Nevertheless she settles down, only getting up when the teams hustle off the field to their lockers.

Next Chapter: Ch. 176 - Spirit Guards, Part Six Estimated time remaining: 4 Hours, 23 Minutes