Applejack, knee deep in soapy water and dishes, looks over as Doug enters the main Apple farmhouse. Pomarbo and Diamond Tiara, the latter with a dour scowl that she quickly covers, help ferry plates and glasses from the dining room. The rest of the fillies are outside, scampering around and enjoying the last of the fading sun’s rays.

“Hey.” Applejack’s smile is short-lived, as is the motion to the plate of food next to her. It’s loaded with apple fritters, pinch-of-salt fries, and heavy greens, done up fancier than what they’d normally have. “Ya missed dinner, but we saved ya some.” She takes a guarded sniff before going back to the dishes. “How’s everypo… everyling doing?”

“Doing well,” Doug replies, dodging around the helpers while rubbing their heads whenever they get in reach. “At the very least, they’re going to be well fed for a while.”

At first, Diamond Tiara flinches, warily regarding the fingers that might muss her meticulously styled mane, even if it has gotten out of place from making cider and she has to use a quick-and-dirty ponytail. But after Pomarbo leaps into his sire’s hands to get closer, and Applejack returns a fond kiss after he joins her in scrubbing the pots, the budding young mare reluctantly runs her side against his leg the next, and last, time she brings the licked-clean plates.

Applejack’s smile brightens as Doug joins her, sidling next to her stallion as he dons his colt-shaped hat. She especially enjoys it as an apple-etched hand slips under her barrel to briefly tickle at her growing belly. “Glad to hear it, Ah guess.”

Spoiled Rich and Rarity enter from the dining room. “It’s no problem at all,” the ring-marked mare reassures. “They will be delighted to help!”

“What’s that?” Doug asks between grabbing bites to eat.

“Mrs. Rich knows a few stallions from Manehattan,” Rarity replies, giving the pink mare a respectful nod. At Doug’s blank look she continues, “The kind of ponies everypony should know, as it were.”

“Indeed,” Spoiled Rich haughtily confirms. Her nose raises in the air a touch higher.

“Oh. Well, cool.” Doug goes back to scrubbing. “I didn’t realize you were thinking of moving there.”

“Opening a branch,” Rarity returns with a touch of the Rich flair. “If anything. With the number of orders I’ve been getting, especially from the upper crust there-”

“-Such as Upper Crust,” Spoiled Rich interjects. “Whom, I might add, would be absolutely enthralled should you mention me.”

“Why, yes, of course,” Rarity concedes. She flicks her mane as she huffs. “It makes quite a bit of sense to have a location there. Assuming I can find a location, and reliable ponies to work there while I am here, and something snappy enough to put my name on everypony’s tongue.”

“Sounds like quite the challenge,” Doug says with a broad smile at the fashionista. She takes the opportunity to trot over, nuzzling him, before her nose puckers up and she takes a hasty step back. “Think you’ll need any help?”

Rarity shakes her head, sending her mane bouncing back and forth. “Thank you, but no. You’ll be busy here, and I know how much you dislike any sort of high society function.” Doug rolls his eyes, reaching over to deliberately mess with her mane. She scowls, if good-naturedly.

“Do keep in touch,” Spoiled Rich commands before things get too out of hand. “And thank you for the meal. Next time we would be delighted to host you and your...” Her head turns to the window, visibly counting the number of ponies outside with a mote of a scowl. “Herd.”

“We’d be delighted to,” Rarity cordially replies.

Spoiled Rich nods, as if there was no doubt, and turns to her filly. “Come, Diamond Tiara.”

“Yes, mother,” Diamond Tiara answers obediently. Her already broad smile stretches even further as she looks up at Doug.

Doug, oblivious, goes back to washing dishes. He makes short work of the remaining few, much to Applejack’s relief.

Diamond Tiara noisily coughs into her hoof, fluttering her eyelashes.

Doug glances at her, the colt on his head also turning. “You okay?”

Diamond Tiara grins with a saccharine sweetness. “Yes’m.” After a second of not seeing the response she is looking for her throat rumbles, progressively getting louder.

“Oh!” Pomarbo exclaims as he realizes, taking far too long for the young mare’s liking. “Daddy? Can DT sleep over?”

“I would hate to impose,” Diamond Tiara immediately adds, all smiles, no trace of her cough.

“Uh,” Doug says with a glance at Applejack. She merely shrugs with a slight smirk. “Sure. Works for me. We’ll probably set you up in Apple Bloom’s room, over at the C house.”

“Great! Come along, ‘Po.” Diamond Tiara, holding her head high, trots to the doorway and looks back. One quick squeeze and precarious leap later, Pomarbo skittering across the floor, and the two leave to join the others in the yard.

“Stay out of the sorting barn!” Doug yells. He sighs at the lack of response, not wanting the colt to mess with the newly acquired cider maker.

“Don’t worry, partner,” Applejack reassures as Spoiled Rich takes her leave. She towels off the soapy remains. “Ah’ll make sure they don’t get in too much trouble.”

“Good luck with that,” Doug says, stealing another belly scratch before his lead mare heads outside. He turns to Rarity after setting the last dish to dry. “Any plans?”

“Just figuring all this out.” Rarity’s horn lights, a few papers from the dining room floating along as she follows Doug upstairs to his office. “You’re not going to sequester yourself from everypony again and work late into the night, are you?”

“Of course not,” Doug jovially replies. “I have you here.”

“Oh, I suppose,” Rarity says with a roll of her eyes. She glances at her papers, biting at her lip. “Do you think Silver Spoon or Diamond Tiara would watch the Boutique if I were to go to Manehattan?”

“Not Sweetie Belle?” Doug snaps his fingers as Rarity shakes her head. “Oh, right, they’ll be leaving soon. Silver Spoon might, but I think she’s working at Silver Settings after school, might not have the time.” He smirks. “Offer it to Pomarbo, I’m sure Diamond Tiara would just jump at the opportunity then.”

Rarity laughs as the two enter Doug’s office. It hasn’t changed much in seven years, except the shelves expanding as more and more cities and towns join. What used to be a single row of files now spans across a bookshelf covering the entire wall, though much of that is the archives, references, and contingency plans. Rolled-up maps, the caps color-coded the same as the files, stand next to long lists of weathermares, while the large desk is mostly clear. A neatly sorted stack of letters, already opened, sits in his ‘in’ bay, while the ‘out’ bay is empty. Through the large window they can see the twelve fillies of the two herds at play, some sort of ball game with Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara as captains while Silver Set and Applejack watch from the sidelines.

“Did Twilight help with this?” Rarity asks, admiring the filing system. She places her papers to the side, out of the way from Doug’s heavy chair.

“No, Pinkie Pie. Mare knows her way around a pile of files, that’s for sure.” Doug flicks through the full spectrum of colors and selects Hollow Shades, one of the thinner ones. It takes about a day of work to finish each of the twenty areas, assigning shifts and making changes to the weather. But that’s on average: the larger, more populous areas take an understandably longer time to work through, even if it isn’t much more difficult. He spreads the papers out, careful not to interfere with the mare appropriating her own area.

Rarity begins working on her own project, having absconded with Doug’s map of Manehattan. It isn’t the best suited for figuring out the perfect location for her new store, but at least all the streets are labeled. She would need to visit them to get a better idea of which would be most suitable, same with interviewing the list of prospective employees. She sighs, her pencil stalling as Doug’s continues steadily marking.

“You don’t think all this,” the white mare motions to her list of potential applicants and store locations before frowning, her horn resting. Doug glances over, somewhat concerned, pausing his work to reach a comforting hand across her withers. She smiles, hesitant, even as Doug rubs at her side. “Never mind.”

“...Sure,” Doug says, unconvinced. He waits a moment, neither moving. He finally ventures, “So, how’s Sweetie Belle holding up?”

“Mm.” Rarity’s lips purse; she shrugs off Doug’s hand, trying to go back to work. She sighs, unable to shrug off the question. “She is doing… as well as expected. She has a lot to work through.” She ventures a look out the window, sighing. It’s hard to tell from this distance, the unicorn never the most athletic of the foals, but she seems to lag behind a bit more than normal. “She has her friends, her sisters, and I am confident she is up to the challenge.”

“Good.” Doug goes back to his work, but stalls. “You talk to her?” He frowns to himself. “Should I?”

Rarity shakes her head. “Only briefly.” She goes back to sullenly staring out the window. “Am I a bad mare for not preparing her better? For letting her know that this is but one of life’s many possibilities?” She shakes her head. “But she is her own mare, marked and all. If she wishes to come to me for advice, then I would be glad to help. Otherwise?” She shrugs helplessly before a small smirk grows. “I would think you would be more worried about your colt, for all the attention he is getting.”

“Pomarbo?” Doug chuckles to himself. “Nah, he’s a good kid. Curious, sure, but we should encourage that. Just like you encouraged Sweetie Belle not to get discouraged.”

“And you’re not worried about who he might get ‘curious’ with?” Rarity frowns as Doug shakes his head. “You know she’s only showing interest because of your new position.”

Doug takes a deep breath, nodding. “I guess… I guess I see that as unavoidable. At least at this point, unless you see some easy way to separate those interested in Pomarbo and those interested in those close to him.”

“...I don’t,” Rarity admits quietly, head bowing low. “And maybe that’s my problem, too.”

Doug looks over at her list of names, all fabulous-sounding or fashion-themed, none of whom he recognizes. “You’re worried about starting this branch in Manehattan, of getting this attention, and having it be not because of your skill as a designer but because of your connections.”

“Way to make a mare feel naked and exposed,” Rarity concedes with a weak smile. “Even if before my worry was about your proximity to the Royal Sisters instead of my own.”

“Do you think it’s wrong to take advantage of those connections?” Doug asks, again reaching over to rub at Rarity’s withers.

“W-well,” Rarity shakily says, shuffling closer to be next to Doug, her side pressing against him. She feels much more comfortable next to him, safer, but those feelings don’t help with her problem. “I-I’m not sure. There must be dozens of mares as good as I am, if not better. Why should I get the acclaim just because of who I know?”

“So you’re going to turn down opening a branch in Manehattan?” Doug asks neutrally, motioning at the paper in front of her.

“But it’s a huge opportunity,” Rarity exclaims, almost wailing, her eyes brimming with tears. “How can you think I’m going to turn this down!?”

“I’m just asking questions,” Doug reassures, rubbing harder and helping her calm down. “It’s up to you to answer them, and live with those answers.”

“Oh, you’re right,” Rarity says unhappily. “But this could ruin me, if word gets out that I’m not, that I’m not dedicated enough, that I’m not willing to take advantage of every opportunity. Because it’s all about who you know. And you can be sure that Spoiled Rich would blab all about me, if she thought it was in her best interest, if I didn’t mention her name at every opportunity.” She raises a hoof in anger. “It’s a pony-eat-pony world out there, and by Celestia I will not be on the menu!”

Doug nods along, a bit stunned by the melodramatic performance. “So you’re going to do it?”

Rarity nods firmly. “Yes!” Cracks begin appearing in her resolve. “Of course.” Her smile wavers. “E-except, they might see right through me.” She gulps, twisting her head to stare at Doug. “T-they’re gonna s-see r-r-right th-through meee!”

It takes some effort, but Doug keeps from grimacing as the mare lightly flails her limbs. “That’s right,” he agrees whole-heartedly, wrapping her in a hug and keeping her from doing too much damage.

“W-what?” Rarity says, taken aback.

“They’re going to see right through you.” Doug beams as he drags Rarity onto his chair, ignoring the squeaks and groans. The chair doesn’t seem too happy, either. He plops her down, belly-up, and firmly presses a finger into her chest. “They’re going to see past that glitzy exterior, the kind all you fashionistas are expected to put up, and see the real mare underneath. The kind, loving, generous mare. The one who would think nothing of giving of her time, her materials, or her ideas to those deserving, and even those not. Who would give an enterprising young mare a chance, even if it isn’t the best idea, just like you gave me a chance all those years ago.”

Rarity sniffs, wiping a tear away. “You make it very difficult,” she continues, smiling despite her tears, “to stay mad at myself, or to wallow in… well, whatever it is ponies are supposed to wallow in!”

“Good.” Doug smirks as his gem-tattooed hand traces down Rarity’s sternum, drifting down through the velvety fur until he reaches the taut tummy. She’s just starting to look full, and more than a hearty meal’s worth, clear evidence of the second unicorn foal of the herd. He adores the sharp gasp from the mare, the way her forelegs curl up, how he can still surprise her even after all these years. He finds himself getting just as excited. “Sure you’ll have enough time for another branch?”

“Mm,” Rarity forces out, slyly smiling. “All the more reason to get it up and running now, no?”

“Alright, you got me.” Doug leans down to nuzzle her, enjoying the moment before giving her tummy a quick squeeze. He lets her down, gently, but not without keeping her trapped against his side. She doesn’t seem to mind, not at all, and goes back to determining which location and applicants will likely be the best for her store, as well as what kind of dresses she should market to the far different clientele. The next few hours pass quickly, the two working in near silence.

Doug yawns once he finishes, glancing over. He must have missed the lengthening shadows when the sun went down, when it quieted down when the fillies went inside, and when Rarity’s horn went out and the mare drifted off to sleep while still standing. He smiles at the sight, far more elegant than him: her head aimed toward him, resting against the table, gently snoring, probably just watching him work. Boring enough to put somepony to sleep, he supposes as he clicks out the light.

He could leave her like this, or use the musty single bed in the corner, but figures she would rather spend the night in the more palatial Princess-quality one back in the other house. He gathers the mare in his arms, and he can’t help but draw a connection to the foals he often carries to bed after a long day crusading. She stirs with a faint smile, snuggling a little closer as she lets loose a soft, contented sigh. She’s heavy, no doubt about that, but he can take his time through the overcast night. At least it hasn’t started raining yet, and Rainbow Dash would likely be finishing her shift in an hour or two after seeing it started.

The white horn stays unlit, the mare cuddling close, even as Doug struggles to open doors without setting her down. Eventually Doug gets to the bedroom on the second floor. A soft gold glow greets him, though not the alabaster mare with a far-off look in her eyes. She startles as he sets Rarity ponyloaf on the bed, horn turning the room a blinding white.

“Sorry!” Celestia exclaims, though at a fast, apologetic whisper. Doug groans as he rubs at his eyes, unable to see anything but flashes of white against an utterly black background. “Sorry. I forgot I whitelisted you for my alarms.”

The stars slowly fade from his sight, allowing Doug to sort-of make out the remorseful features of the elder alicorn. “Yeah,” Doug says, somewhat bitterly, though he is grateful he only got the ‘flash’ part of the flashbang spell. Small mercies, and a small smirk crosses his feature as he gropes for the flank partially concealed under the covers. “Good thing I wasn’t planning on going to sleep soon.”

“See?” Rarity quips, glad she kept her eyes closed while Doug carried her. Celestia still looks worried. “If he can still make jokes, he’s fine.” She waggles her rump, grinning as Doug feels about for her flanks, enjoying the attention as the alicorn lays back with a fond smile.

Next Chapter: Ch. 74 - Fluid Motion, Part One* Estimated time remaining: 20 Hours, 13 Minutes