• Published 5th May 2013
  • 17,535 Views, 197 Comments

A Filly's Guide to Not Making Headlines - Bradel



PRINCESS SPARKLE IN CAMELU DUSTUP – Reports emerged Sunday that H.S.H. Princess Twilight Sparkle slammed Griffonstan over Camelu water rights. "I mean, they have plenty. It's not a 'threat to their sovereignty' to ask—

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Bad News

You’re the ambassador from Saddle Arabia? But you’re not wearing a saddle cloth! My books all said that’s one of Saddle Arabia’s most important cultural traditions. Doesn’t that make you feel… I don’t know… kind of naked? Not wearing one?”

NEW PRINCESS MAKES UNWELCOME ADVANCES TO SADDLE ARABIAN AMBASSADOR

“What do I think about Northern Griffonstan? Well, um, it’s very arid. I read that it has a lot of mineral wealth, too. Aren’t there deposits of copper in the Feathersharp Valley? And gold, I think, in the northern parts. Oh yes, and the canyons of the Cold Snap badlands are supposed to be very beautiful. Maybe I can go see them sometime soon.”

PRINCESS SPARKLE EXPRESSES INTEREST IN COLD SNAP REGION
1488th Regiment of Griffonstan Imperial Army Moved to Counteract Equestrian Territorial Pretensions

“You know, I’m not sure I should be talking to you. It seems like everypony keeps printing my words out of context. I mean, really, how is somepony supposed to get anything done if she can’t even open her mouth withou—”

“DOWN WITH THE PRESS,” DECLARES EQUESTRIA’S NEWEST ROYAL

With a sigh, Rarity set the morning edition of the Canterlot Times-Picayune back on the table and resumed her breakfast. Twilight was in the news again, with a banner headline above the fold proclaiming, “SOFA SALES SLIDE AS PRINCESS SPARKLE QUESTIONS LEGITIMACY OF QUILL-SOFA CONNECTION.” The offending quote was buried on the eighth page – and perfectly innocuous if one knew the mare, of course. Rarity’s fork cut into her last pancake as, for a moment, her mind wandered into the hypothetical.

Now if it were me, I would have simply told the merchant that – elegant and enticing as his couches might be – all such acquisitions for princessly residences have to go through… oh, I don’t know… the “Palace Office of Domestic Procurements”? Yes, I’m sure that would have satisfied him. None of this, “No, I just want a box of fresh quills, and why do all these stores keep trying to sell me furniture anyway?” And perhaps I could have even arranged for a limited trial on a new divan. The red one is getting a little careworn these days, isn’t it? And if it proved satisfactory, why of course then I’d—

A piping voice from the kitchen intruded on her reverie. “’Nother round of apple flapjacks, hot off the griddle! I hope you’re still hungry, ‘cause we’ve got lots of batter left.”

Rarity blinked and looked down at her now-empty plate. Her stomach gave a quiet rumble, though she tried her best to ignore it. “Thank you very much, Apple Bloom, but I simply couldn’t. A lady must not overindulge.”

“Aww,” chimed a different voice. “But I cooked this batch, Rarity. Can’t you at least try them? Please?”

Rarity swiveled on her stool and gave the kitchen an appraising look. It was still surprisingly clean, unlike the three flour-dusted fillies occupying it. Occupying indeed. Sweetie Belle and her friends looked nearly as out of place as a Griffonstan regiment parading through the streets of Camelcutta.

But the pancakes, now those were another matter. Scootaloo had a plate of them balanced on her back, and they looked positively scrumptious. Her sister had made those? Some of Apple Bloom’s skill must have started rubbing off on Sweetie Belle. It was the only reasonable explanation. Of course, that stack Scootaloo was carrying looked precariously high, but the little pegasus was taking careful steps, so nothing was likely to go wro—

A loud knock sounded on the door to the boutique, three staccato hoofbeats. Then a louder knock. Then a tremendous crash that seemed to shake the whole structure. Scootaloo stumbled, the plate of pancakes slipping off her back. Rarity stifled a few very unladylike words, quickly snatching everything in a telekinetic bubble and levitating it over to the table.

Of course, there were more pressing matters than imperiled pancakes. “Sweetie Belle, be a dear won’t you and see what all the fuss is about?”

“So you’re gonna try one, right Rarity?”

She gave the apple pancakes another look. Well, I suppose one or two more won’t hurt. “Yes, yes, now go see who that is.”

Sweetie gave a pleased squeal and cantered off to the front of the shop. Scootaloo stared at the plate of pancakes she’d nearly spilled with a look of mild depression, twitching her wings uselessly. Apple Bloom set the batter aside, turned off the stove and went to comfort her friend, tracking little flour-filled hoofprints across the blue linoleum.

Levitating two more apple pancakes onto her plate, Rarity breathed deep and savored their wonderful aroma. Maybe this Cutie Mark Crusaders thing really has something to it. She ought to encourage the fillies to do these little sleep-overs more often.

After about a minute, during which time Apple Bloom and Scootaloo settled themselves around the table for their own breakfasts, Sweetie Belle returned. Behind her trailed a very harried-looking Twilight Sparkle. Her mane was more than a little frizzed, her eyes positively bloodshot, and she kept looking behind her as if expecting to see a hoard of ravening parasprites on her tail.

Rarity surreptitiously levitated the Canterlot Times-Picayune off the table, stashing it under her stool. “Why, Twilight! What brings you here, so early in the morning?”

“I was hoping to avoid the reporters,” Twilight muttered.

“Yes, well, that’s understandable darling, but it doesn’t quite answer my question.” As Rarity spoke, Sweetie slipped onto the stool beside her. Giving her sister a quick, affectionate nuzzle, Rarity levitated two of the (frankly exquisite) pancakes onto Sweetie Belle’s plate.

“Oh. Um. Yes.” Twilight cast another look back at the entrance of the boutique and scooted a little further into the room. “Well, yesterday I was talking to Princess Celes— I mean… Celestia. And she said I needed to get a new dress made for this year’s Grand Galloping Gala. After all, the old one doesn’t really accommodate my…” She glanced over her shoulder and fluffed out her wings, a self-conscious expression stealing across her face.

Scootaloo gave a little sigh, dropping her gaze to the floor. Sweetie Belle took a break from her pancakes to pat the pegasus filly’s mane reassuringly.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to alter your old Gala dress, darling? I know how much you like it, and it’s just so you. Don’t you think, perhaps, it would be nice if at least one thing were familiar for your first Gala as Equestrian royalty?”

“No!” Twilight shouted. Rarity nearly dropped her fork in shock at the fierceness in her friend’s voice. Clinks of silverware told her that the three fillies, unsurprisingly, weren’t quite as poised. “I mean, no,” Twilight continued. “I think I need a new one. Please, Rarity?”

“Darling, what’s wrong? I know you love that dress. If you’d like another, I’d be more than happy to make it for you, but somehow I don’t think that’s what this is about.”

Twilight slumped to the floor like a discarded sack of flour and laid her head on her hooves. “Don’t you see? That’s exactly why I can’t wear it! Rarity, they’re going to laugh at me! Twilight Sparkle, the worst princess in Equestria. My picture is going to be all over the front page of every paper in Canterlot, and Celestia only knows what the headlines will look like this time. I’m going to be a laughingstock. Please, please don’t make them laugh at me in my favorite dress!” She took a deep breath, and when she resumed her voice was timid. “I m-mean... I have other dresses. But you m-made that one, and then we... Please, Rarity. Not that dress.”

And then, lying there on the blue linoleum of Rarity’s breakfast nook, the newest member of the Equestrian oligarchy began to cry.

“Oh, darling…” Rarity rose and went to her friend, sitting and stroking Twilight’s mane. The three fillies started to rise as well, but Rarity motioned them back down. Her eyes fell on the newspaper underneath the stool, and with a grimace she sent it sailing into the kitchen wastebin.

“I can’t do it anymore,” Twilight mumbled. “I’m not cut out to be a princess. Everything I do is just one mistake after another.”

“Shh, shh. None of that, now, darling. You’re a wonderful pony and a wonderful princess.” Rarity felt her expression harden. “And if the Canterlot Times-Picayune can’t see that, well, then we’re just going to have to show them ourselves. Girls, why don’t you get Twili...” Rarity’s voice trailed off as an idea flashed into her head. “Girls...” Yes. Yes, of course.

Eyes narrowing, Rarity studied the three fillies at the breakfast table. The trio shrank back, huddling together. Rarity’s mouth twitched into a small smile, and Sweetie Belle gave a little squeal of fright.