Chapter 8: The Issue of Envy
It didn’t take Twilight long to find the circle of conversation around Caesura again. Applejack looked to be engaged in a particularly animated discussion with the Viscount concerning the merits of various apple-bucking techniques, which meant that the two of them were being granted a generous amount of space on the ballroom floor. Seeing them again was enough to stop Twilight right in her tracks.
Her head was still boiling with everything that had happened over the course of the past hours: the frustration at the nobility’s evasiveness when put to the question, the stunning realization that all of Caesura’s reputation was naught but a lie, and of course every second of her confrontation with Rarity, playing through her mind on infinite repeat. But even with all of that, she remembered that she owed the Viscount an apology, not only for her earlier behaviour, but also now for everything else. So she did her very best to quiet the storm of emotions inside her before stepping forward into the midst of the group.
Such was the vigour of their discussion that Caesura didn’t even immediately notice. “Now, Miss Applejack, I don’t mean to question the value of your years of experience, however it simply is not true that the straight approach always produces the best results. Especially on older or gnarled trunks, a bit of angle in the buck is absolutely necessary.” The Viscount’s demonstration was surprisingly good, for a pony in a dinner jacket at least.
Seeing Applejack already winding up for an impassioned rebuttal, Twilight spoke up. “Good evening once again, Viscount.”
“Huh? Oh,” Caesura offered her a respectful bow as he took her outstretched hoof. “Good evening once again, Your Royal Highness.”
“I should apologize for my earlier behaviour,” Twilight went on right away. Rarity would have said that such directness was overly brusque, but right now it felt liberating to say exactly what was on her mind. “I should have let you know of my title right away, and not represented myself any differently. That is only the least of the things which I now know that I should apologize for.”
Caesura’s eyebrows rose. “Surely no apologies are needed, Your Royal Highness. Your friends here have already illuminated me greatly about your outstanding character. You owe me nothing.”
Applejack and Fluttershy both offered her encouraging grins, but Twilight was not about to stop. It all simply had to be said. “Then allow me to apologize instead on behalf of everypony here, on behalf of the whole Equestrian nobility, who drove your good name through the mud, who fabricated a fiction of you as a criminal, and who spread the rumour so far that you were driven even into exile. I may be one of them now, but rest assured that I will see the crime righted.”
That particular statement elicited shocked gasps from the entirety of the group, all except for the Viscount himself, of course. Though even he fell silent after Twilight finished, an expression of concern plain upon his features. “I am sorry that you had to hear about that,” he said after a moment, sounding perhaps the most awkward he had been all night.
Once Applejack had gotten her verbal hoofing back, she was a little more forceful. “That’s ridiculous! Are you saying that everypony else in this room thinks Caesura here is some sort of crook?”
Twilight nodded, grateful that somepony else was outraged at the revelation. “Apparently it was a rumour which got quite a bit out of hoof, and now everypony accepts it as simple truth. But obviously we can’t let that carry on.”
“Everypony?” Most other ponies wouldn’t think that Fluttershy was particularly angry, to look at her or to hear her words. Twilight, though, recognized the edge in her tone, signalling just as much indignation as she was feeling. “Tell me that you’re not including…” She let the sentence hang, intimating a name that none of them wanted to say.
Twilight took a deep breath. She still didn’t feel very comfortable saying it either, even with all of the evidence that she had personally experienced. “I think it would be best if we leave Rarity out of this for the moment. For now, we have enough to do with all of these other ponies to take care of.” Applejack and Fluttershy both nodded to that, clearly also having difficulty bringing themselves to paint their friend with the same brush as they did all the rest of the nobility. Even though Rarity had essentially confessed her complicity in the lie, Twilight knew that she couldn’t do it either, not yet. That part was all… very complicated.
“But that won’t stop me from seeing that all of the rest of the guests know the error of their ways.” She looked over at Caesura again, and let that indignation surface into a reassuring, determined smile. “I will make this right for you, Caesura.”
Surprisingly, Caesura took two steps over to her, and placed a gentle hoof upon her shoulder. His face was still clear, his eyebrows slack over his clear eyes, showing no rage or fear. In fact, he almost looked as casual and carefree as when they had first met. “I admire your dedication, Your Royal Highness,” he said. “But please, don’t take it upon yourself to obtain any revenge on my account.”
Twilight looked up in surprise, joined almost in unison by her two friends. “But, but you were ruined! All your standing and honour stolen from you, all your friends gone, your very name besmirched for all to hear! Surely something must be done to correct it, surely all those ponies who did this to you should pay a price for it.”
Caesura only shook his head. “Damning accusations, perhaps, but ask yourself: what did I really lose? I never sought standing amongst this crowd; I never needed their friendships. They can go on playing their game so much as they like, but they haven’t really hurt me. So there’s no sense in you risking anything to correct a debt that doesn’t exist.”
Twilight didn’t answer. The anger inside her was running out, falling away to leave nothing but a confused emptiness. All of her mind still screamed that such an injustice deserved to be righted, but it was difficult to keep that up with Caesura so cool on the matter. “How can you just let it slide, though, after everything?”
“Only with a bit of time, actually.” The look in Caesura’s eyes had changed to be a little nostalgic, the thinnest of easy smiles relaxing his face. “Once upon a time, there were a few months when I felt just as you do now, eager to prove my worth and get back at whomever perpetrated this crime against me. Luckily, I had a good friend then who reminded me that stooping to their level was precisely what the nobility wanted me to do. It would verify that after all I wasn’t really any different from them.
“No, the real way to get back at them was simply to keep on living my own life, following my own star. If you only measure yourself by what others think of you, then there’s no way to stop yourself from becoming only a reflection of the ponies whom you admire. And so I would give the same advice to you now, Your Royal Highness. Come, let us enjoy the party.”
He looked down once again, deeply into Twilight’s eyes, serenity itself clear within his own. The gaze seemed to reinforce everything that he had just said, serving as absolute proof that despite everything, despite the best efforts of nearly every other pony in this room, the Viscount was perfectly content with his life as it stood, and so should she be.
Twilight didn’t have an answer right away; instead she was thinking anew on all of her interactions with high society. Every individual whom she had admired, Cadance and Shining, Celestia and Luna, and of course Caesura here, all of them had that same serenity, and suddenly she realized that it all came from the same place. They walked immune to the shifting glances and plots of the nobility simply because they were at home in their own skin. If she simply didn’t care what the rest of society thought about her, then clearly they would have no power over her.
Twilight took a deep breath, letting the last of that anger out when she exhaled. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I suppose I can agree with all of that.” She gave Caesura another look, this time curious and appraising. For weeks now, she had looked to Rarity for all of her lessons in how she ought to conduct herself. And even though her friend was clearly knowledgeable on the subject, the end result hadn’t been quite what the new Princess had been hoping for. Perhaps it was time to seek a second opinion. “I think that perhaps we should enjoy the rest of the party.”
“Excellent,” he replied, stepping back into his former spot in the circle. For their own parts, Applejack and Fluttershy were also giving him curious looks, both just as mystified at his ability to let all of this slide. “And perhaps, by the end of tonight, we will be able to welcome your friend back, as well. She seems like a good mare, from what I’ve heard. I think that eventually she will find her way back to us.”
Twilight swallowed nervously. Forgiving Rarity was still going to be difficult, even if she somehow managed to learn Caesura’s serenity in the face of society’s disdain. Fervently, Twilight hoped that the Viscount was right.
With all of the evening’s focus on the inner halls of the castle, the sculpted parks that made up the grounds outside were left quiet except for the chirps of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the evening’s gentle breeze. In spite of the homely surroundings, which wouldn’t even have been out of place under the near boughs of Everfree on a particularly peaceful evening, there was something on the air up here that felt different to Rarity. Even out here in the midst of the carefully constructed natural environment, the air seemed somehow cleaner, somehow fresher, somehow better in its proximity to the capital.
It had been those qualities which had often drawn the white mare to these parks on any of her earlier trips into the city. A carefree stroll through the castle gardens was the perfect way to unwind after a day spent in the luncheons, auctions, and tea parties of the elite. Tonight, though, even the charming babble of the fountain by which she sat was doing nothing to calm the tempest of emotion that was consuming her heart.
Here out in the darkness, the sounds of the party were silent, which Rarity had hoped would allow her to get her senses back, but instead only served to amplify the sound of Twilight’s voice in her head. The damnation that she couldn’t escape, no matter how much she told herself that everything she had done had been correct. Even now, in spite of her best intentions, it seemed that she was once again destined for a Gala that would be nothing of what she had hoped.
Over the balcony, down in the city far below, a puff of smoke drifted lazily, the telltale sign of the locomotive to Ponyville, starting the first preparations for its eventual departure. There was perhaps only an hour and a half left before it would leave, and doubtless if she made her way down there the conductor would allow her to take her seat early. Surely that would be easier than soldiering on the rest of the way inside. If she chose her seat carefully, she might even be able to avoid having to face Twilight or any of the rest of her friends again.
“Oh, good evening, Rarity. I hope that you don’t mind a slight intrusion on your solitude?” Rarity looked up for the source of the bright voice, and when her eyes found the magenta irises of Princess Celestia, Rarity rapidly got back to her hooves.
“Of course not, Your Majesty,” she said automatically, her muscles slipping unbidden into a respectfully deep bow. “I would only hope that I am not unduly disturbing your own evening.”
To that, Celestia laughed, a crystal tinkle. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m not sure that anything could disrupt my evening at this point. It’s been an excellent Gala already, far surpassing my expectations in every regard. So much so that I had to come out here to calm myself a bit. A similar idea to yours, I hope?”
Celestia walked past her, right up to the railing on the outlook over the city. There she let out a deep breath, and breathed in the cool evening air. Framed there with her mane streaming out over the ledge, the glittering stars of the sky overhead, and the huge full Moon just over her shoulder, the Princess looked like something taken out of a storybook, exactly the sort of storybook that Rarity had enjoyed when she was a filly. In her current state, Rarity knew that she had no right to join the perfect scene, yet even so she was filled with a desire to stand with the monarch by the railing. She gathered herself up and took the few steps over.
“There,” the Princess said, “now that we’re here, why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind, Rarity.”
The directness of the statement caught Rarity off guard. Even so, she shook her head. “I was simply out here to clear my head, Your Majesty. Applejack always tells me the value of a breath of fresh air from time to time, and I suppose now is as good a time as any to see to it.” Rarity wasn’t precisely certain from whence her reluctance to talk about Twilight and Caesura had come, only that right now it didn’t seem proper to bring it up. Celestia probably had too much else on her mind for such trivial problems to hold any significance.
“Rarity,” the Princess’s voice was just as serene as before, though with a real undertone of serious persuasion to it. “There isn’t a pony I know who would more live for what is going on inside the castle tonight than you. This is your night to shine, and so I know that you did not simply decide to smell the roses all of a sudden. If there is anything that would ruin my evening, it would be knowing that one of my guests is not enjoying themselves to their fullest. So please, let me in on whatever has you troubled.”
Rarity looked away. There was a chance that Celestia maybe could give her the help that she needed, that the elder Princess would know how she could get through to Twilight about the way that things worked in the upper circles of society. “Okay, Your Majesty. We both know that Twilight is new to her position, and so I’ve been trying to help her get acquainted with all of the subtleties and routines that being a Princess will entail. I only want her to succeed, to be a great Princess like you, Luna and Cadance already are. I’m just… I’m worried for her. I’m not sure if I’ve been the best teacher.”
Rarity took a peek at Celestia’s expression, hoping to see some understanding on the Princess’s face, perhaps even her trademark knowing smirk, followed up by some sage advice. Celestia was smiling, but it was a gentler, warmer smile than she had been expecting. “That is quite an issue,” she replied. Then, suddenly, “Would you care to take a walk with me? At night, the gardens can be so calming, notwithstanding whatever Fluttershy might have told you to the contrary. I often find that my problems seem smaller after a little stroll, especially when I have good company to share it with.” The Princess took a few steps off toward a wooded path that wound away from the clearing, gesturing invitingly with her left forehoof. Rarity managed to stifle what would have been an incredibly disrespectful sigh as she followed. She had already been outside for ten minutes, and nothing of the stillness had so far calmed her mind.
Closer underneath the boughs, the evening was quite a bit darker, though the light of the big Moon overhead was still bright enough to keep the path well-lit. For about five minutes, the two ponies walked in the near-silence of the evening, the sounds of the various nocturnal creatures in the trees creating the ambience. It was all more than a little uncomfortable, until Celestia once more broke the silence. “Twilight really is a lucky pony, isn’t she?”
“Lucky?” Rarity’s cheeks coloured, though she quickly brought her voice back down to a respectful tone. “Your Majesty, you know as well as any of us that luck had nothing to do with it. Twilight is perhaps the very definition of an exceptional mare, and she deserves everything that she has ever received.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to dispute that.” Celestia replied. “But certainly there must be hundreds, perhaps thousands of ponies out there who envy her all the same. Do you know how many fillies tell me that one day they want to grow up to be a Princess? I think it’s a phase that practically all of us went through at some point in our foalhoods.” The Princess looked down with a knowing glint in her eye.
This time the colour that came to Rarity’s face was a rosy blush. “Once upon a time, yes. Who wouldn’t dream of that limelight, everypony hanging from your every word, the adoration of the crowds at your festivals and balls? Why, I’ve been to the Gala twice now, but even that is nothing compared to what experiencing it as a royal must be like. It would be simply–” Rarity caught herself, realizing that her step had risen along with her voice, until she was now practically ready to swoon in the middle of the path, right under Celestia’s nose. Most unseemly. “Well, it would be the perfect life,” she finished, calmly adjusting the headpiece of her gown.
Celestia chuckled again. “Once upon a time, indeed. So I think that we can both agree that Twilight’s position is an enviable one. Which is why it is so important that she adapt to the rigors of the position in a timely manner.”
Rarity nodded fervently. “Indeed. I’ve done everything that I think I can, but I still worry that I haven’t been direct enough with her. I just don’t want what should be her crowning achievement to end up as a disaster.”
Celestia walked on ahead in silence for a few steps more, her expression unreadable, though perhaps she was deep in thought. Abruptly, she turned to look back at Rarity, the moonlight catching in her eye to produce a fiery pinpoint of coloured light, and when she spoke, the former warmth in her voice was gone. “You’d best hope that you have done enough. You can rest assured that you and I are not the only ponies here tonight feeling some envy toward Twilight, and we both know what that envy can lead to if left to fester.”
The thought stopped Rarity’s heart for a second. An image came into her head, of Twilight shunned just as Caesura had been, cast out from society as a liar, a cheat, a villain. Forced into exile to carry on her life. Surely that wouldn’t be how it would end? “You don’t mean to imply that Caesura’s end could also happen to her, Your Majesty?”
“They are similar stories, aren’t they? Both elevated to high positions outside the usual boundaries and structures of society. Both outsiders who aren’t particularly keen on conforming to the ways of the nobility.” The Princess’s right eyebrow dropped low over her eye, creating an expression that was almost stern. “It is not too far of a leap to suggest.”
“That’s not fair, though, is it?” Unbidden, the pitch of Rarity’s voice had risen just a little, betraying the new anxiety that was building in the pit of her stomach. “Twilight didn’t have any idea of the stakes before she assumed her title.”
“Princesses occupy important positions,” Celestia replied impassively, walking on down the path again, quicker now, so that Rarity had to trot to keep up with her long strides. “There are expectations and structures placed around them for a reason, just as it is for any noble. Those who can’t fit in end up on the outside.”
“But surely that’s unreasonable!” Once again Rarity caught herself just as her voice was rising into a shout. She went on levelly once more. “Twilight is still only getting used to her title. She wasn’t born into high society like some of us. She needs time to adapt.”
“Well, then she had best get her act together, and quickly. Society can be very unforgiving to those ponies who fail to live up to the expectations that are placed upon them.” Still the Princess held her eyes straight ahead, her voice level and cold like a judge pronouncing a sentence.
Somehow, it seemed as though the evening had grown darker as the two had walked, the trees overhead gathering closer and blotting out the light of the Moon. Frantically, Rarity tried to think of a way out of this nightmare, a way that she could prevent the fate that was in store for her friend. Then, abruptly, a memory came back to her, of a chance meeting with Celestia from this very night two years ago. The thought put a new fire into her heart. “Really, though, Princess, aren’t you a strange pony to argue that Twilight needs to conform to the expectations that others place upon her in order to be successful?”
Celestia didn’t respond, certainly not with the scathing rebuke that Rarity expected from such an accusation. Emboldened, she pressed on. “Why, nearly every time that I’ve met you I seem to remember some classical norm being violated, or at the very least twisted a little. If you are allowed to flaunt the expectations of everypony else, then why shouldn’t Twilight get a little forgiveness for her inexperience?”
Finally the elder Princess slowed her pace, stopping with a wistful look on her face as she stared up at the wide full Moon, here visible over the trees. “I’ll admit that the structured life was one I only grudgingly accepted. It certainly wasn’t the life I would have chosen to live.”
“There, you see?” All thoughts of decorum had vanished from Rarity’s mind, and she hurried on ahead of Celestia, turning so that she could finally look the Princess right in the eyes. “Some of us were born for that life; some of us have even dreamed of it and worked for it ever since they were fillies. But some of us, like you and Twilight, are different, and surely she deserves the right to make her own mark just as you did. Surely she deserves the right to be her own pony, to find her own place within society. Surely she should get that chance, just as any one of us should.”
Very abruptly, Rarity realized that Celestia was wearing a warm grin, itself and the softness in her eyes completely at odds with everything that she had just said over the course of the past few minutes. “I agree with all of that,” she said. “So tell me then, Rarity. This evening, which of you or Twilight is the one living her dream?”
The question, even delivered with soft and tender words, struck Rarity as hard as a rock between her eyes, suddenly draining the air from her lungs and dismissing every other thought in her mind. All of her righteous fury vanished in that second, replaced with that single burning question, which she could not have answered even if she had been able to draw in a breath.
Celestia resumed her gentle stroll down the path, guiding Rarity along with a gentle hoof on the shoulder. “We all have our dreams, Rarity, and we should chase after them with all of our heart. It’s perfectly all right that you should want the best for your friend, but sometimes it is all too easy to allow what you want for them to overshadow what they want.”
“But, being a Princess is such an important honour…” Rarity replied automatically as soon as Celestia had finished speaking, before shutting her own mouth when she realized how hollow the words were. Every counter-argument, every defense that came to her mind had already been thrown at her by Celestia, and they were the same ones that she herself had so heatedly rebutted.
Celestia just nodded gently beside her. “It’s not surprising that it would be difficult to let go of these former convictions. But as you said, Twilight deserves the right to be her own Princess, and deep down, Rarity, you know that it’s true.”
In Rarity’s head, it was as if a wall was coming apart and collapsing, revealing the truth that she should have always known, even though she had buried it beneath her hopes and plans for what would have been Twilight’s triumph. It would have been exactly like the dreams that she had harboured ever since she had been a filly. But Celestia was right. They were her dreams, not Twilight’s. “Oh, Celestia,” she sighed, even though addressing the Princess by her first name was usually wildly inappropriate. She was beyond caring about protocol now. “What have I done?”
“Nothing irreparable,” Celestia replied brightly. “Twilight is as strong-willed a pony as I’ve ever met, and I would doubt that anypony could deter her from being her own Princess, as surely you’ve seen by now. The only thing that could have happened was damage to your friendship, but I think you know by now that such things are easy to mend.”
The forested path had by now completed its lazy loop through the grounds, and up ahead a lighted patio of the castle could now be seen, beckoning through the trees. Just beyond the lights, a door opened up to the ballroom, within which the Gala could still be spied. There was still time, Rarity knew, to make right the wrongs that she had perpetrated tonight. “Thank you so much, Celestia,” she said, a bit of her composure having returned, though now it was completely devoid of the rigid poise from earlier. “I can’t imagine what would have happened if I had kept on like I was.” A sudden thought struck her. “But what about the rest of the nobility? You are right that Twilight and Caesura have remarkably similar stories.”
The Princess tipped her another smile. “While that’s true, you can rest assured that there is nopony in that room who envies Twilight more than me.”
Startled, Rarity blinked a few times as she tried to process the answer. “What do you mean?”
Celestia once again took her by the shoulder, slowly making her way up the path to the lighted patio ahead. “When I came into my own title, it seemed like there wasn’t a single pony who understood what I was going through. How much I disliked nearly all of it. The pageantry, the manipulation, the subtleties of even the simplest of gestures. Even Luna was always such a stick-in-the-mud about protocol. I was going it alone, and it was absolutely infuriating at times.” She gave Rarity another look. “But Twilight is not alone. She has great friends like you, Rarity, who understand her better than anypony, and who can support her through all of the inevitable rough patches. I only wish that I could have been so lucky.”
They had arrived at the doorway, the warmth and light from inside bright in the air. Rarity took one last look up at the Princess, and Celestia returned her a gentle shake of the head. Celestia had already found her peace, and her place within society. The focus now was on Twilight, and on mending the bonds that Rarity had strained with her behaviour over the past few weeks. With one final nod, the unicorn set off into the crowd.