A giggle cut through the air like an unexpected arrow. The distinct sound of a pencil falling onto a table signaled an unintended hit.
"Rarity!"
Rarity looked up from her book, holding a spent grin. "Yes?"
Sweetie Belle motioned to the fallen pencil and huffed. "Do you mind?"
"Oh! I am terribly sorry, dear. How rude of me." Rarity levitated a purple satin slip between the pages of her book and closed it. She unfolded herself from her couch and pillows, stretched her front legs, and failed to suppress a grunt lost between a moan and a yawn.
"I shall retreat to my bedchamber and leave you in charge of the defense of my castle, dear sister." She smiled upon seeing Sweetie Belle roll her eyes, giving her head a loving pat. "I am sorry for distracting you."
Sweetie Belle waved her hooves in the air as if they were larger eyes to roll. "I don't mind you hanging around. In fact, it's nice," she squeaked the last word. "Apple Bloom and Scootaloo are counting on me to finish this for our project tomorrow. And Cheerilee told me how much she's looking forward to seeing what I can write and I'm under a lot of pressure and it was nice of you talking me through it earlier."
"But?"
"But you know how you can get when you read those," Sweetie Belle tapped her chin in recall. "Those trashy romance novels!"
"Trashy? Sweetie Belle, such language is unbecoming of a lady."
"I'm only repeating what dad said!"
Well, Rarity thought to reply, he is no lady, that's for sure.
"Father was being silly. He knows very well that I only read the most celebrated and praised novels in Equestria—the true classics. And I shall take them with me upstairs. Good day, fair maiden."
Sweetie Belle leaned around her chair to get a look at the title of the book held in Rarity's magic: "Wicked Desire", with a picture of a muscular pony in torn clothing hugging from behind a more petite pony wearing the same kind of elaborate dress that Rarity liked to make, complete with a large castle in the background.
"Huh," Sweetie Belle thought, "I'll have to ask Cheerilee about that one. She did say we were going to have to do a book report on a classic next month. Thanks, sis!" She smiled, making a note to herself before resuming her work.
---
Rarity glided up the stairs, swirled in place at the top, and pranced a small dance down the hallway. This book was good, great even, she thought. She had only finished the first two chapters before being interrupted by, or interrupting her sister.
With each high step of her hooves she marked off a checklist in her mind. An absolutely gorgeous mare with a strong fashion sense as the main character whom one can easily relate to? Check. A fantasy setting of older times when all mares were ladies and all stallions were dashing knights, rogues, or princes? Check. The love interest being such a dashing character with strong arms, a beautiful heart, the title of prince, perfect for her in every way, a toned flank to die for, rugged good looks, lots of money, a huge family, a kingdom full of friends, and single? Check. Check. Check.
She lowered the book into her arms to hug it, falling into her bed. Giggling, she rolled around with it as if it were her secret lover. The book was a hardback, so hard in her grasp that it made her feel softer. She pressed it deeper into her arms. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the lavender fragrance of her pillow. She fancied the book embracing her back. She pretended it was a real pony. She imagined what it would feel like to hold someone this close in such an intimate setting. She moved her leg as if to wrap it around her imaginary partner's leg. She has hugged many ponies before, especially her close friends. She wanted more. She had to have more.
With a sudden heat on her face, she opened her eyes.
A long sigh carried her to her door. She closed it, and with the passing of a few heartbeats, locked it. Another sigh carried her back to her bed and she laughed at herself. It was a small laugh, as small as she began to feel in her large bed, in her large room, in her large carousel of a house.
She lifted her book and it felt even smaller. It was as small as the little idea she thought she had, desperately trying to remember what it was, knowing she had thought about it mere moments before. Whatever it was, it had become smaller, so small she could never find it again and the thought left her with a frown. She knew it was a thought from the book, and turning to lay on her stomach, wiggling into her large sheets and heavy blankets, she felt her small spirits being lifted at the thought of returning to the magical land of another trashy romance novel.
Pulling her pillow to her so that she could rest her hooves, she felt the practiced aura flow from her horn to open the book. With a deep breath, one look around and an ear flicked to scan for any sign of her sister, she started the next chapter.
---
Fair Desire lifted her hoof to inspect it, more curious to see if any grain of dirt had touched it than acknowledging all the dirt touching the hooves of her close friend who stood before her, prattling on about whatever ruffian interests she had. She desperately resisted the urge to clean those dirty hooves of her friend's. She soon found herself on the verge of giving in, already grabbing her pocket napkin with her magic.
"Desire! Are you even listening?"
"Of course I am, dear Wicked." She lifted her other hoof for inspection, secretly letting go of the napkin into her pocket.
Wicked Strike stomped her hoof. "Ya are not! This is serious, Desire. All you can think about is that darn prince. I really need yer help here."
Desire's eyes were on that hoof stomp. The hoof was now even dirtier.
"Oh, alright. You needn't be so helpless." Fair Desire raised another crate with her sparkling magic into Wicked Strike's cart with graceful ease.
Looking over the cart and spotting something beyond it, she gasped, "The prince!" Quickly ducking, she calmed herself and slowly peeked over the cart at the target of her desire.
"What's gotten into you, you crazy mare?" Wicked turned to face her. Following her gaze she saw the unmistakably dark purple color of the one and only Prince Glistening Sword.
"Oh, is this why you decided to help me? To spy on some stallion? How very ladylike, if I don't say. My apologies, princess, I had thought you actually cared to do some honest hard work for once."
"Shush, you! He'll hear us!"
Wicked Strike crossed her hooves and leaned back into the cart. She boldly observed the prince sitting down to eat across the street. Flicking a straw to the other side of her mouth, she smirked at Fair Desire.
Fair Desire noticed the smirk. "Oh no, you would not dare!"
"Howdy-do, Prince Sword!" Wicked let out in a thick commoner accent. Desire crumbled into herself in shame. "Fancy seeing you in town."
"Ha! Well met, Wicked Strike!" Glistening Sword waved from across the street. "Would you care to join us? It would make my trip through your lovely town all the merrier!"
Wicked turned to peer over her smug grin at Desire down below. "Well, shall we, princess?" She softly asked.
Desire nervously darted her eyes from Wicked to where she imagined the prince was, somewhere past the protection of the cart.
"Ya'll know I'm good friends with both princes. Come on, sweetie-pie," Wicked bowed her head slightly and offered a sincere smile, "I promise it'll be okay. I know you've been wanting to meet him for a long time. Who knows, maybe you'll be able to humor his fancy talk more than I can."
For a moment, Desire looked at Wicked's face. The light touched it differently than before. She was drawn to her one eye, as she often was before, but this time it was different. The patch was less noticeable, but still there, hidden slightly behind part of her hair that had fallen out of place after she had lowered her head to meet her eyes. It was just as she would style it for her, much to her chagrin. But more than that, she looked oddly… vulnerable.
This was the final thought that graced her before she realized her face had hit the ground, before all she could feel was a small army of sandy dirt grabbing her cheeks, nose, and hair. She vaguely felt Wicked Strike over her, protectively, seeing one of the dirty hooves she had been trying not to stare at from earlier, up close now, with the muted screams of maidens coming from somewhere far away, and the distant shouts from stallions, "To arms! To arms!"