Celestia’s setting sun shone down on a small region to the east of Equestria. Rising from the wetlands and fields that surrounded it, on a great rocky outcrop overflowing with houses and villas, was the town of Camarque. The ponies of Camarque had, long ago, been granted the land by the Princess herself as theirs to settle, and over the centuries the wetlands had been drained, vineyards had flourished, and the town prospered. In modern Equestria, it was well-known for the quality of its crops, as well as the beauty of its citizens.
On this beautiful summer’s evening, the bells of the city hall were announcing a wedding, each peal echoing over the still marshes. However, despite an outward fanfare, the ceremony itself was a simple and private affair. Within the town’s hall were gathered only a small collection of ponies, all seated to one side of the building. Two groups of benches had been set up, with an empty aisle running down the centre, but the other half of the seating was strangely unoccupied.
The hall was sparsely decorated, but still strung with ribbons of white cloth and garlands of flowers with tasteful precision. They caught the sunlight streaming in through the ancient stained glass windows depicting scenes of Camarque’s long history. The stone flooring was smooth with the passage of many thousands of hooves over the years, but warm in the summer heat.
Before the podium on the raised dais stood a unicorn stallion, fidgeting in his tight-fitting tuxedo. His white coat had been groomed specially for the occasion, and his blue mane combed neatly, framing his horn. Beside him, continually fussing and straightening the stallion’s jacket, was another stallion, a particularly finely dressed earth pony with an elaborately styled mane, over-sized collar and sunglasses.
“By the Sun, Fancy, stop moving about! You’re making a dreadful mess of my suit,” the earth pony hissed, glaring at the unicorn over the bridge of his sunglasses.
“I can’t help it, Hoity! And stop tugging on the sleeve, it’s already nearly past my fetlocks!” Fancy replied, glancing back at the city hall’s door as the bells continued to ring. Hoity Toity rolled his eyes and stood back in his place on the dais, adjusting his own collar.
With another peal of the bells, the door swung open to reveal the bride, resplendent in her beautiful white silk dress and floral veil, standing before the rising moon. Despite convention, she had chosen lilies as the flowers of choice for the ceremony, and now sported a particularly magnificent specimen in her mane. Hoity Toity looked on in approval as she slowly made her way up the aisle, bridesmares carefully carrying the train in their mouths as a little filly ran in front of her scattering petals.
Fancy tried to prevent his mouth falling agape, but he was fighting a losing battle. He watched his beloved step delicately up the aisle, her hooves barely making a sound on the stone steps as she ascended the dais to stand next to her groom.
Fancy leant across and whispered: “You look absolutely stunning!”
Beneath the veil, Fleur de Lis smirked, and she replied, “Hoity’s not looking too bad, either.”
Fancy was interrupted in his no-doubt scathing reply by the minister loudly clearing his throat. The bride and groom turned their attention to the older pony who sported the black and white collar traditional of his office. Once he was sure he had the full congregation of the ponies gathered, he smiled and flicked open a book resting on the podium. This was more by force of habit than necessity; he had performed so many marriage ceremonies over the years that he knew the lines by heart.
“Dearly beloved!” he began, in time-honoured tradition, as his gaze swept over the small gathering of the bride’s family. He frowned momentarily as he saw that no guests were present on the groom’s side of the chapel, but continued regardless. He’d seen far stranger in his time.
“We gather here this summer’s eve, under the light of the sun and moon, to join this mare and this stallion in blessed harmony. We believe that marriage is a special state of friendship into which all may enter, bringing the fullness and treasure of the love in their hearts and hooves to one another.”
Fancy caught Fleur’s eye, and they shared a smile. Their tails entwined of their own accord.
“I charge you both,” the minister continued, “to remember that your future happiness is to be found in mutual honesty, generosity, loyalty and kindness. With these five elements is forged a bond stronger than that of the sun and moon themselves. It is your duty, as you plant your hooves on the threshold of a new life together, that you honour this bond. You are to be one, and undivided.”
The minister turned to Fleur.
“Do you, Élisabeth de la Camarque, take...” the minister paused, and looked at the name to make sure he hadn’t read it incorrectly. “... Fancy Pants... to be your husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or for worse, as long as you both shall live?”
‘Élisabeth’ cringed involuntarily at the mention of her full name. Fancy Pants just bore an expression of sudden confusion, looking at her with a raised eyebrow and his head slightly tilted.
“I do.” Fleur quickly recovered, trying to avoid Fancy’s questioning look.
Oblivious of the subtle signals between the two about-to-be-weds, the minister turned to Fancy and peered up at the substantially taller stallion.
“Do you... Fancy Pants, take Élisabeth de la Camarque to be your wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or for worse, as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” he answered, still looking at his beloved with some confusion, but managing to keep it out of his voice. The minister beamed, and flicked over the page.
“Who has the-?” he began, before Hoity-Toity interrupted him by revealing the rings on their cushion, setting them on the ground between the pair. They were both magnificent, perhaps more so for their simplicity. Perfectly round bands of fine gold engraved with the pair’s initials on the inner band, made by Fancy Pants himself.
At least he was pretty sure those were her initials, up until a few moments ago.
The pair of rings shone with intermingled magic as they rose from the fabric, Fancy taking the smaller and Fleur taking the larger. As one, they lowered their ring onto their partner’s horn, allowing them to rest neatly at the base. A uniquely unicorn tradition of course, but one that had been practised since before the founding of unified Equestria.
“Now that the bride and groom have made their pledge and sealed it with a ring, I pronounce them husband and wife, in the light of the sun and moon!”
The minister looked at the newly-wed couple with happiness, and delivered his closing line.
“You may now kiss.”
The reception was finally over, as the sun crested the hills to announce the dawn. Fleur and Fancy’s private air-chariot flew through the air over the Camarque wetlands as it sped onwards towards the eastern sea.
" ‘Élisabeth’?!” said a voice trying to choke back laughter.
“It’s Fleur!” came the indignant reply.
“Oh, is it now? The minister seemed to have a different opinion!”
“That was for my parents’ sake! I always hated that name!”
“Ah, well, no wonder you never told me!”
“You never asked!”
“Well, when one is courting a mare, one doesn’t often think to ask ‘oh, excuse me, but is that actually your name?’”
“No, Barding, I suppose one doesn’t.”
“Touché.”
The two looked at each other as they lounged on the plush seat of the carriage. Fancy’s suit was creased from dancing, and a mix of confetti and rice was caught in Fleur’s mane. The pair were worn out, but as happy as could be. Fancy looked his wife lovingly in the eyes, as they shared a moment’s rest together.
His gaze slowly crept upwards.
“You’ve still got custard in your mane,” he said, after a short and thoughtful silence. Fleur snorted, then burst out laughing, taken off-guard by the non-sequitur.
“At least I dodged the punch!” she retorted, jabbing a hoof at a particularly vibrant stain on Fancy’s shirt. “That’ll be harder to wash off! And I suppose you can’t rely on Hoity to do it for you anymore,” she added, grinning. He smirked.
“A terrible loss. Although I’m sure he’ll have his hooves full with your two sisters for quite some time.”
“You know, I didn’t think they would be to his... tastes,” Fleur replied, as she glanced out of the carriage window at the landscape speeding past.
“I believe he calls it: ‘Keeping his options open.’”
Fleur giggled, and the conversation fell into silence again. They both gazed out of the window, content to just be in each other’s company. There’d be time for fencing later.
“Alright, careful, mind your horn...”
Thud.
“... Really, Fleur, this would’ve been so much easier if you’d let me carry you.”
Fleur frowned, rubbing her head where it had just smacked into the lintel of the door frame of their new home, a beautiful mountainside villa on Canterlot’s slopes. The couple had decided to settle here on returning from their honeymoon, as it was far grander than Fancy’s own townhouse within the city. Fleur’s family had owned the villa for several generations, and she had lived here herself for a number of years.
He had just been attempting to fulfil the tradition of carrying one’s wife over the threshold, but Fleur had insisted on being carried on his back instead of by magic, since she didn’t want to feel like a piece of baggage. However, pony doors tend to be designed without the possibility of one pony riding another in mind, and the attempt hadn’t gone smoothly.
“Alright, and again... There!”
Fleur slipped off Fancy’s back as he turned to get the luggage, smiling (despite the throbbing in her forehead) now they were home.
Another unicorn mare’s head peeked around the door of the front room, blinking in surprise. “Oh, madame! You’re back! We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow!”
“Hibiscus! I trust you enjoyed the break!” Fleur replied, smiling at her maid. Mrs. Hibiscus Pickle and Mr. Lime Pickle were the only two housekeeping staff Fleur employed, as housekeeper and chef respectively. Lime Pickle’s messy green mane appeared from a cloud of steam as the kitchen door swung open, and upon spying Fleur he barrelled down the hallway.
“Fleur! You’re alive!” he shouted in exultation as he flung his forelegs around her neck. Fancy looked on, bemused, while Mrs. Pickle shook her head, smirking.
“He’s been inconsolable since you left,” she said, prying her husband off her employer, “convinced you’d been captured by pirates, or eaten by Sea Ponies...”
“Taking a cruise is the most dangerous form of holiday available to modern Equestrians! It was very foolish of you to worry me so!” Mr. Pickle protested, in his thick foreign accent. Fleur had never been able to quite pin down where Mr. Pickle was from, the most she ever got out of him was ‘somewhere hot’.
“I assure you, Mr. Pickle, that nothing of the sort happened,” Fleur insisted, “Fancy and I enjoyed a pleasant and relaxing cruise around the Eastern Isles, no Sea Ponies or fanged horrors from the deep involved! It is good to be back, though.”
She cringed as another throb of pain went through her head. “... I don’t suppose you have any ice?”
Lime Pickle grinned and rushed back to the kitchen, while Hibiscus helped Fancy take the luggage up to the master bedroom.
About an hour later, the newly wed couple were alone on the estate, as the Pickles had gone out to the city to stock up on food and supplies for the evening’s celebratory feast and house warming.
“Come to think, Barding, there is something I absolutely must show you,” Fleur said, as the two wandered about the gardens, enjoying the view of the valley below.
“Oh?” Fancy replied, raising an eyebrow.
Fleur smirked and beckoned him back towards the house with a nod, leading him along the hallway and halting in front of one of the panelled walls.
“... Is this it-” Fancy began, but was interrupted when Fleur raised a hoof and pressed a small portion of what Fancy had thought was just decoration on the panels. There was a faint ‘clunk’ as the main panel fell backwards half an inch. Fleur lightly tapped it, and it swung open on well-oiled hinges, revealing a narrow staircase leading down below the building. Fleur headed down, followed closely by a fascinated Fancy.
They emerged in a large room carved from the rock of the mountain, lit by an expensive-looking enchanted chandelier hanging from the ceiling. All around were pedestals, displays and shelves, displaying an eclectic collection of artifacts, jewels and knick-knacks. To his shock, Fancy realized he recognized some of them.
“Isn’t that the Heart of Canterlot!?” he stammered, rushing over to the beautiful diamond, resting on a plinth much like the one it had been displayed on on that fateful night four months before. “But the museum reported they’d recovered it! Fleur, you didn’t-”
“No, no, no, of course I didn’t!” she replied, laughing. “This is my trophy cabinet. Just souvenirs. Convincing though, aren’t they? I have the replicas made by a contact of mine in the city, then return the original. Just little mementos.”
Fancy blinked, looking around at the incredible collection. Copy Paste had done his job well, each of the replicas was indistinguishable from the original artifact, at least to a layman.
“And that’s the Border Blanket... the Seven League Horseshoes... the Cauldron of Black Night? How in Equestria did you walk out with that?” Fancy asked, bemused, as he glanced from item to item.
“Pretended I was catering staff,” Fleur replied as she examined the edge on her replica of Coltana, the sword of the legendary Ogre the Bane, an earth pony giant said to have fought and defeated an Ursa Major that had terrorized the earth pony tribes long before the founding of Equestria. She put it back next to its sister blades, Concorde; sword of the Unicorn King, and Marendal; blade of the pegasus swordspony Rolling Skies.
Fancy smirked as he continued browsing, occasionally stopping to inspect an item more closely. Eventually he came to an empty plinth, decorated in the royal colours and backed by the crest of the twin princesses.
“You have something in mind for this one, I take it?” Fancy asked as Fleur approached. She looked unsure as she gazed at the display in silence for a few moments, and Fancy wondered if he’d accidentally struck a nerve.
“... I had planned to put the crown jewels there,” she said at last, “they were... a goal, of sorts. The most precious and famous of all of Equestria’s artifacts, and they never leave the Princess’ side.”
She paused, and slowly looked up at her husband. “But... Maybe I set my sights too high. Things have changed now... We’re married, and we have a whole new life ahead of us...”
She turned and gestured to the entire collection with a hoof. “I wanted you to see all this, because... I’m giving it all up. I can’t risk being the ‘Fleurdeliser’ any more, not now that I have you. Besides... I know you didn’t really approve,” she laughed, “and that’s quite understandable!”
Fancy opened his mouth to say something, but Fleur lifted a hoof to stop him. “It’s alright, I came to this decision on the night of the exhibition. The Heart of Canterlot was my last prize, and I’ve earnt something far more precious than all the jewels of the kingdom.”
Smiling, her horn lit up, and she pulled a small box from the recesses of her clothing. She set it carefully down on the empty plinth, in pride of place, and opened it to reveal the engagement ring she had taken from Fancy on the night of the exhibition.
“The crowning jewel of my collection.”