//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: A Companionable Afternoon, Interrupted // Story: His Inspiration // by Jordan179 //------------------------------// Fate caught up with Rarity Belle in the late summer of 1505, when a loose thread she never would have tolerated in one of her garments, but was only too happy to ignore in the story of her life, came knocking on the door of the Carousel Boutique. It was a loose thread only within Rarity's imagination, but to her it was very real. It had been, up to that point, a good day. She had recently returned from some exhausting business in Canterlot: first, setting up her long-desired Canterlot Boutique, which had involved dealing with her brilliant and energetic, but very strong-headed, store manager Sassy Saddles. Then, using all her wit, charm, and -- dare she say it to herself -- superb fashion sense, she had kept Rainbow Dash from being framed for misconduct and kicked out of the Wonder Bolts. Soon, she would have business in the center of the Equestrian fashion world, Manehattan. There, she was keeping up her contacts, especially with her competent and trusty friend, Coco Pommel, in anticipation of expanding into that great island metropolis, opening a third store some time next year. But for now, she was -- by her standards -- 'taking it easy,' which meant that she was only working on finishing a shipment of garments intended for Canterlot later this week. The work was easy, routine, her telekinesis performing multiple operations effortlessly. By itself it would have been merely soothing, requiring but minimal mental effort on her part, freeing her to contemplate many other things. It was his presence that rendered the work actualy pleasurable. Twilight Sparkle had gone off to confer with the Royal Pony Sisters -- privately, Rarity thought that it was mostly with Princess Luna. Rarity's acute pattern-sense had long observed the growing closeness between Luna and Twiight, especially since Twilight had helped Luna exorcise her literal demon of guilt, the Tantabus. Rarity wasn't sure if Twiight and Luna were actual lovers yet, but she would have to have been blind, deaf and stupid not to notice how things were trending. The others all saw it as well, but they all chose to mostly remain quiet about it, so as to avoid embarrassing Twilight on the topic. Well, Rarity wasn't sure if Rainbow Dash saw it, but then Dashie often missed the signs of 'mushy stuff,' as she put it, despite the fact that Rarity well knew Dashie to be capable of the softer emotions. Rarity saw nothing wrong with the relationship. Rarity would of course have been deeply upset if Twilight, whom she deeply loved and respected, had been throwing herself away on somepony unworthy of her, but Princess Luna was -- both by virtue of social status and her own sterling character, just about the worthiest Pony imaginable. Rarity supposed that if they wanted foals they could adopt, or come to some other such arrangement. In any case they were obviously taking it very slowly, between Luna's immortal patience and Twilight's, well, prudishness -- foals would clearly be a question for an indeterminate and perhaps distant future. Rarity wished their love well, and hoped that it would lead to a doubly-royal wedding. She would love the chance to design bridal wear for both of them! She was pretty sure she'd be asked, too. It would uttery cement her reputation. In the meantime, Rarity was simply happy that Twilight had traveled to Canterlot alone. Because that meant she got to have Spike's assistance. There he was, working alongside her, fetching her things and sometimes writing her thoughts down. As they worked, she talked to hium, discussing her plans, from the epic to the trivial. And he listened. And, sometimes, commented. And, when Spike spoke, Rarity listened. She had found from experience that the young Dragon had a very good mind, and a surprisingly down-to-earth one: it was a valuable complement to her own, because -- while Spike was perfectly capable of going off on flights of fancy of his own, they were on different subjeccts than those on which she became overly-enthusiastic. They made a good team. As work-mates, and -- she now thought -- perhaps someday as something more. This had been brought home to her by the events of the past few years. She had seen Spike repeatedly demonstrate adult courage and decisiveness, such as would have put most grown stallions of her acquaintance to shame. She had experienced just how fickle fate might be: she had been driven mad by Discord, enthralled by the Night Shadows, lost her powers to Tirek and Starlight Glimmer, then menaced once more by a marauding Night Shadow. Each time, Spike had been there for her, had comforted her and helped her to rally. Sometimes, he had directly fought on her side; but even when he couldn't, she had been strengthened and cheered merely by the awareness that his own dear Draconic soul existed: was real; loved her. Her chosen career, of necessity, included some compromises. She had to please others; normally joyed in doing so; but sometimes she was tempted to compromise too much of herself, her inner vision, her Fabulousness. She had hurt herself, in the past, by doing so. Nowadays, whenever she was tempted, she remembered that she lived in a world that also contained Spike. Who adored her; who always saw the best in her And this awareness helped make her strong. She was sitting at her work table, sewing away while moving about poniquins with another part of her mind, and chatting with Spike, when her doorbell rang. "Spikey-Wikey," she almost sang. "Will you be a dear and get that?" She was at a delicate stage of the work, and didn't want to drop a stitch. "No problem," replied Spike, and sauntered over to the door. It was a new door, with a new and thoroughly-modern electric doorbell; she had installed it to replace the door Spike had broken when he'd tried to save her from that marauding Night Shadow in April. The cost of replacing that door was trivial to her; the knowledge that, when things seemed darkest, there would always be a small purple Dragon to save her from the monsters, in contrast, was priceless. Spike opened the door a crack; looked through it at someone on the other side. "Carousel Boutique," he said cheerfully. "May we help you?" "Would this be the boo-teek owned by Rarity Belle?" a boisterous, friendly voice boomed in a Palomino Territories accent. A chill ran down Rarity's spine. No, she thought, numbly. Not him! "You have come to --" Spike began, as he started to open the door. Rarity acted, fast. Reaching out with her telekinesis, she grabbed the door, preventing Spike from opening it any further. Carefully prying Spike's hand from the doorknob -- even in her extremity of revulsion, she was carreful not to hurt her darling -- she slammed the door shut with a resounding boom. She kept her field on the door, so that it could not be opened. Spike was quick to improvise. "Um, we're closed right now," he said. "Come again later!" Spike threw the bolt on the door, then turned towrd Rarity. Through her fear, she noted approvingly that Spike was making sure that her unwanted visitor could neither enter nor overhear them. Such a sharp mind! One in a million! "Rarity?" he asked in a very low tone. "What's going on?" "It's him!" she hissed at Spike. "Him!" "Him?" asked Spike. "Who him? Rarity trembled at the memory. She was momentarily incapable of coherent speech. Spike frowned. "Is he connected to Rush?" he asked, an angry edge entering his voice. "Or Mindbender?" His eyes began glowing, and smoke to seep from his mouth. There was a smell of brimstone, as his pyrogastrum prepared him to breathe fire, if necessary. His crest stood rigid in challenge to any who would threaten the one he loved. He was referring to her caddish ex-beau from finishing school, Rush Rocks -- who had left her alone and in trouble at age thirteen -- ten years ago, and five years before she had met Spike. Rush had come back two years ago, in the employ of the sinister Lippanzer psychologist Doctor Mindbender -- who was, in turn, working for the Night Shadows. Spike had seen off Rush and his goons by mean of his own Draconic might, leaving them with painful bites and burns. Mindbender, himself, had wisely fled as Rarity, in her despair and anger, accepted possession by a Night Shadow, becoming Nightmare Rarity, a Unicorn with powers even greater than those of Twilight or Luna, but consumed by hatred and compelled to do evil. Liberating Rarity from the Nightmare had taken a quest to the Dream-Moon, where Spike, swelled to gigantic size in his dream-form by his love for Rarity, had fought off a horde of lesser Night Shadows and destroyed their castle. Finally, the combined might of Luna, Twilight and the massed Ponies of Ponyville had succeeded in driving the Night Shadow from its host, leaving Rarity ashamed and horrified, but unharmed. The memory of a gigantic Spike triumphing over impossible odds, driven on by his love for her, warmed her spirits, and Rarity regained the power of speech. "No, Spike," she said. "It's not them." The smokes died away and Spike's crest relaxed a bit. "Who, then?" "It's him," she repeated. "The one from my nightmare, the one I had when I came back from Our Town." Spike looked mystified. "I remember that," he said. "That was the first time you had me spend the night with you. The next day, you made Little Rarity." He referred to the peluche doll she had given him, sewed cunningly into her own form -- a love-gift, special to both of them. "You dreamed you were caught in Our Town, and you married one of the Ponies there, and were going to have a foal." She could sense his voice-stresses, the pattern of his speech, and she knew that he was deliberately editing the truth for her own benefit. Dear Spike, she thought. Trying to shield my reputation, even from myself, and regarding a dream. But honesty is required here. And the truth is that I was almost broken, almost driven insane, by Starlight Glimmer. "Spike, darling," she said. "You know the outline of that dream. I was trapped in that terrible little town, alone, and helpless to resist Starlight Glimmer. "I did not 'marry.' There was no 'marriage' in Our Town. I merely mated like a dumb beast. No morals, no love, not even much pleasure. I was just a thing, obeying my instincts." She closed her eyes, almost overwhelmed by her remembered despair. "Much like the Primal Ponies -- but, I imagine, worse, for I coud remember once having been more. "In the dream, I was afraid that I had quickened, as I had when -- you know." Even now, she did not like to speak Rush's name, even to one of the very few who knew the tale. "And I did not want any foal of mine to grow up in Our Town. So I decided to -- end myself. And I might well have done myself real harm, sleepcasting, had Princess Luna not then in truth appeared to save me from the Night Shadow who had afflicted me with that dream, who had been trying to trick me to let it in that I might again become Nightmare Rarity." Spike nodded. "I know. I just didn't like going into the details." He frowned again. "But what does your old nightmare have to do with the Pony who was just at our door?" "It was him, Spike, him!" "Who in particular?" 'Dashing Cape!" Spike looked mystified, and Rarity realized that she had never told Spike his name. "The Pony with those dreadful garments, Spike, the one from Our Town. The one I worked for in my dream, after I had been broken by that witch. The one I mated with, in that dream. "Dashing Cape was just at our door."