//------------------------------// // 3. No Late Work Accepted // Story: Written in the Stars // by Carapace //------------------------------// “I’ve apologized several times!” Twilight complained with a petulant stomp of her hoof. She directed her most pathetic pout, wide eyes shimmered and her lower lip quivered, it was certified capable of reducing even the most steely of Princess Celestia’s guards to a remorseful, hesitant mess at twenty paces! Unless, of course, that guard in question just so happened to be immune to it after years of overexposure. Or related to her. Shining was both. He stood in the middle of her room, his white coat a stark contrast to the soft purples, blues, and magenta that decorated the walls and curtains, and leveled her with a flat look, his brow arched until it disappeared beneath his bangs. “You promised that you wouldn’t lose track of time,” he said slowly, in a tone eerily reminiscent of their father’s. “You told me you were just going to go read over your proposal one last time, then you’d come back straight away. I figured you’d be an hour at most, more than enough time!” Twilight bit her lip and let her gaze fall to his hooves. Her wings rustled awkwardly. “Would it help if I said I’m pretty sure it’ll go through this time?” He sucked in a sharp breath, but hesitated. Then he sighed. One of his hooves left the floor, no doubt to rub the bridge of his snout. “Twily, I love you like no other, but sometimes you drive me to drink.” “I love you too, B. B. B. F. F.,” she said in a rush. Shining heaved another sigh. “What am I going to do with you?” he groaned. “Love me? Hug me? Tell me that I’m your favorite princess not named Cadence and let me live this one down? Just this once?” Twilight looked up and aimed her most dazzling grin at him. A snort of laughter made her heart leap. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, a fond smile played upon his lips. It worked! Shining chuckled to himself and walked over, he caught her in a firm embrace. Then he leaned down to whisper, “Not a chance.” Whining, she pushed against his shoulder. “Shiny!” “Nope! You’re gonna hear about this one for a long time! Cady’ll make sure of it too,” he added, waggling his brows. “Speaking of, she was asking how you were getting on with your other pre-coronation assignments.” Her ears twitched. Twilight squirmed out of his embrace and skittered a few steps away. Her lips twisted into a nervous, half-smile, half-cringe. “I’ve, uh, got most of it done,” she waffled, sidling over to her desk and rifling through a few papers resting at the very center. In perfect position, as always. “I’ve got my … I can’t really call it a palace, but residence picked out.” “Papers will call it your ‘seat of power,’” he quipped. Shining sidled over so he could glance over her shoulder, and promptly wrinkled his snout when he saw. “Okay, I know you’ve got your heart set on Ponyville, for whatever reason—” “It’s got significant historical importance among the farming communities in the southern province!” Twilight cut in hurriedly. Rolling his eyes, he said, “Right, right. Still, you picked a library in a tree? Kind of a rinkydink setup, don’t you think? Especially given you’re all about research and education.” Beaming, she turned and rolled up the parchment he’d been reading from. “Exactly!” she chirped, lightly thwapping him on the nose. “It’s perfect!” “I’m sorry, what?” Shining rubbed his nose, his brows knitted together. “Am I missing something here? Because that seems like the opposite of perfect.” “It’s perfect,” Twilight repeated with a stern look, “because I can get a chance to help develop the education system. Bring it up to snuff so the ponies in farming communities can compete if they choose to relocate, or just help make things better for them. Innovation on the farms, bringing a bit of efficiency to some of those old ways of doing things! And it all starts …” She fixed him with a self-assured smile and inclined her brows, waiting for him to fill in the blank. Again, he rolled his eyes. “With education,” he intoned with all the enthusiasm of a bored school foal. “Yes, I’ve heard that pitch many a time. Not that I disagree. I’m just saying, a princess living in a library?” Twilight waved him off. Honestly, why did he have to focus on such inconsequential details? It wasn’t like anypony but Celestia or Cadence had any real power to tell her off for her choice—and neither had issue when she mentioned taking residence in Golden Oaks Library before. But that was just how his mind worked. Always poking at holes in her logic so it wouldn’t come back and bite her later. Instead, he’d just toss it at her now. His own special version of “tough love.” Shining hummed and tapped a hoof against the floor. “So how about the rest of it? Guards?” “In Ponyville? Please. And it’s not like I’ll need them. I had the best teachers in the land.” Pausing a beat, she added, “And the ones from school.” “True enough. Transition with local government?” “I’ve already arranged for other towns to come visit so we can iron things out, and I’m speaking with Mayor Mare as soon as I get to Ponyville.” Snorting, Shining raised his brows. “Mayor Mare? I pity her. Wonder what her first name is.” Before Twilight could reply, he asked, “How about your mare-in-waiting?” Twilight sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, abruptly turning her eyes to the page. “Um … I’ve considered the prospect of, uh, considering it,” she said, tapering off into a mumble. “You’ve considered the prospect of considering it?” he repeated, his voice tinged with amusement. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a grin spread across his face. His horn lit pink, a tendril of magic snaked its way toward her desk. “So if I were to check your to-do lists, how far down would that be?” Her heart skipped a beat. “Shiny no!” she cried, leaping between her brother and the desk. “Those are mine! Those are for my personal use! Not for sharing or teasing!” Too late! His magic plucked several pieces of parchment from her desk, each labeled “To-Do” with various months and weeks scribbled across the top, and snatched them out of reach before she could even make to grab them. They zipped over to float before Shining, orbiting his head like thin, rustling planets. All the easier to read. He hummed a few bars, raising a brow and smiling as he skimmed each of her lists. His lips tugged wider and wider until a toothy grin nearly split his face. “Considering the prospect of considering it,” he repeated a second time, flipping the pages around for her to see the neat, orderly list at the top. And then the mess of scribbles, notes, and various insertions at the bottom. Specifically, all right before ‘Pick a mare-in-waiting.’ “You put it at the bottom of each of them,” he said, “and then kept adding things so you’d never get there. Considered the prospect, my cutie mark! You’re avoiding it!” She quailed beneath his gaze. “No I’m not,” she mumbled, averting her eyes. “Really? Then you’d be happy to explain why ‘organize quills and inkwells’—” he pointed at the to-do list for last week “—deserved a fast track on the priority list?” He had her. Both of them knew it full well. Twilight rubbed her shoulder and mumbled something incomprehensible about the importance of good desk organization and how no sane mare could ever have too many quills or inkwells in her study. Or her nightstand. Or her special desk in the Royal Archives, for that matter. Naturally, Shining didn’t buy it for a second. He brought a hoof to his forehead and sighed, gently floating the pages back to rest on her desk. “That must be why she was grinning like a fox in a henhouse,” he muttered. Twilight jerked her head up, her ears stood erect. “She? She who?” “Celestia. Caught her grinning and fluffing her feathers like Cady when she’s got some couple all matched up, pretty as you please. Rubbing her hooves, too.” He gave a wry smile. “For a second, I thought it was something I did, but then I heard something about meeting a mare for a staffing position after your coronation. Two and two is four.” Her mind went into overdrive. A hundred different scenarios flashed before her eyes, each worse than the last. Had Celestia been angry at first? Frustrated? She hadn’t shown any such signs in the weeks before the coronation, or even when she came stumbling in after Shining’s teleport spell. A cold shiver ran down her spine, though. Celestia had a certain way of ensuring she learned never to neglect assignments, no matter how inconsequential she might find them. No late work accepted. That was her rule. And if Twilight failed to turn in her assignments, she had to explain why. It only happened once. That had been more than enough until today. Twilight rustled her wings. “Did she seem angry?” she asked as if she were a filly afraid their mother had found her up late reading the night before school again. Laughter rumbled forth from his chest. His cerulean eyes shone with amusement. He swished his short, scruffy tail and made to reply. “Why don’t you ask her yourself,” a familiar voice whispered in her ear. Yelping, Twilight spun on her hooves and found herself met with those ancient purple eyes she knew all too well, she was nose to nose with Celestia herself. The Princess of the Sun fixed her with an amused smirk, arching her brow as she stood to her full height and looked down upon her favored student. She hummed and swished her ethereal tail. “Well?” she teased. “Don’t you have something to ask me, young mare?” Though there was no hint of anger or sternness in her tone, Twilight felt her ears burn. “Um, well,” she mumbled hesitantly. “I was going to get to it soon?” she offered. “Were you now?” Celestia clicked her tongue. Her smirk spread into a slow, playful smile. “Well, I’m afraid I must count this work late, my dear. And you know my rule for late work.” Of course she did. Twilight ducked her head, a low whine sounded from the back of her throat. One strike, she was out. Celestia chuckled. With a merry fluff of her feathers, she summoned a cushion and gestured for Twilight to sit with her. “Come,” she said. “I think it’s time we discussed the ramifications of your tardiness, dear.” As Twilgiht approached, Celestia took a lid gracefully onto the cushion, leaving just enough room for Twilight to join. “Oh, Shining?” Twilight heard his armor shift as he snapped to attention. “Yes, Your Highness?” “If you wouldn’t mind getting with Cadence regarding our youngest princess’s impending move, I’d like you both to escort her to her new home in Ponyville by the end of the week. Just to ensure she finds everything she needs.” “Of course, Your Highness. Right away.” Ancient purple eyes flashed with mischief. “Shining,” she chided, “what have we discussed?” Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight saw him pin his ears. “But I’m on duty,” he mumbled in protest. Her smile gained teeth. “Say it.” Shining’s alabaster cheeks flushed pink. “Yes, Auntie Celestia,” he said at last, “I’ll get right on that.” “Much better.” With a nod and a wave, she dismissed him from the room. Then she returned her attention to Twilight, her eyelids lowered to fix her with a hooded look. Celestia gave a low hum. “Before I inform you of the, ah, ramifications of your actions,” she began, “tell me, why did you willfully neglect to search for a mare-in-waiting? Or at least ask for input into the matter?” Twilight felt soft downy feathers trail along her back as a powerful white wing wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her in for a tight embrace, one that doubled as silent warning that there would be no squirming her way out of a reply. Trapped. Well and truly trapped beneath the wing of the ancient Princess, and pinned beneath an unwavering gaze rivaled only by the Sun’s glow. Both teacher and immortal. Licking her lips, Twilight looked down at the purple cushion. The seam, at least, would not stare at her with such all-knowing eyes. “W-Well, I will admit that I developed a bit of a case of tunnel-vision,” she stammered. “Most of my time has been devoted to my funding proposal, so I’ve been putting things off. Namely, um, that.” “I’m shocked,” Celestia mused, her tone suggesting quite the opposite. “And why did you keep pushing it off for less important things?” She ducked her head. “Because I figured I could just leave it to later. It could be handled after I moved, I thought.” Or never. “Despite my insistence that you name or begin searching for candidates before this very day, terms which, if you recall, you agreed to.” If Twilight hadn’t known any better, she would almost swear it were Cadence in Celestia’s place. Who else could wear a smile with such dangerous amusement? “Would you like to offer a reason why?” Celestia asked. “Or should I simply chalk this up to the rebellious phase of a young alicorn?” Twilight wilted at her words. Celestia knew which buttons to press. But then again, so did Twilight. “I didn’t realize alicorns had rebellious phases,” she noted, turning her best scholarly interest look upon her old teacher. Celestia’s smile wavered, a flicker of something new emotion flashed in her eyes. Not interest or a want to educate, but something … melancholic. “Oh, yes,” she said softly, “a young alicorn can be very rebellious. Yes, she can.” As quickly as it came, it was gone. Her smile returned like nothing had happened to dim its light. She arched a brow and reached out to boop Twilight’s nose. “No changing the subject, my dear student. Share your reasoning.” For a moment, Twilight thought to keep prodding, but bit back her questions. If Celestia wanted to put something aside, nopony could convince her otherwise. With a resigned sigh, she averted her gaze. “I didn’t think a mare-in-waiting was necessary—I still don’t,” she said, flicking her tail. “And why is that?” “Because I can buy dresses and do my own mane for myself,” Twilight grumbled much like a preteen the night before her first dance. “And I don’t need some mare poking and prodding me to follow my own schedule!” Celestia laughed, a sound as sweet as a warm summer day. “Says the mare who deliberately shoved an assignment under the rug,” she teased, “and was late to her own coronation.” Heat arose in Twilight’s cheeks. “Th-Those are isolated incidents!” “Oh, hardly, my dear.” Again, she booped Twilight’s nose. “But teasing aside, you’ll find as I did that you will need somepony to help steer you along to keep appointments. As for dressing, well, I must confess Raven is my guiding light when it comes to making impressions. Think of it more as a constant friend, if you will. One there to help you make everything flow smoothly.” “A friend I have to pay.” “A friend the State pays, yes. But a friend nonetheless.” Humming, she turned toward the door. “In fact, I believe that’s the perfect segue.” Twilight’s ears twitched. “Wait, what?” A chill crept into her chest. She knew that look. She knew that tone! “What did you do?” The gleam in her eyes seemed to shine like the very sun she raised and set. “No late work accepted, Twilight,” she repeated. “I’ve appointed one for you.” Before Twilight could even think to protest, Celestia called, “You may come in now, Rarity.” The sound of hooves clip-clopping on the tile floor and then thumping when they transitioned to carpet made Twilight turn to face the newcomer. Her heart promptly skipped a beat, then hammered in her chest. Her breath caught in her throat. The mare’s coat was stunning. A beautiful, pristine white as flawless as fresh-fallen snow. Regal purple locks flowed into splendrous curls that bounced with every step, and those in her tail with the slightest sway in her wide hips. Sunlight seemed to wander through her mane and down her body like delicate hooves, eager to caress and explore her form—from slender shoulders to the trio of baby blue diamonds adorning her flank. Or her eyes. By the sun, moon, and stars, her eyes. Glittering sapphires pierced through Twilight’s very being, into the depths of her soul. As if this pony, this Rarity—such a fitting name for a gorgeous mare!—could read her like an open book. Twilight’s tongue felt like sandpaper. Heat billowed beneath her cheeks and slowly spread throughout her face, and down her neck. A not-so-small part of her wondered if she’d preened well enough that morning. Maybe she should’ve taken a bit more time to brush her coat too. “Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia said, “I’d like to introduce you to your mare-in-waiting, Rarity of Ponyville. Rarity, I’m sure my student needs no introduction.” Rarity gave a dazzling smile and tittered. A chorus of bells and singing birds filled Twilight’s ears—be still her beating heart! “Oh, certainly not, Your Highness,” she said, her voice as sweet as honey and warm as freshly brewed tea. When her eyes fell upon Twilight again, the youngest princess felt her heart leap into her throat. “I daresay you’ve made quite the impression on everypony today, Princess Twilight Sparkle.” Twilight blinked several times. “I, uh, thanks,” she mumbled. Stupid tongue! Of all the times to go numb, why in front of such a beautiful mare? Somewhere, she was sure Cadence was laughing herself silly. Or gleefully rubbing her hooves. Possibly both. To her left, Celestia chuckled. “Well, why don’t I leave you two ladies to get acquainted?” With a quick nuzzle to Twilight’s cheek, she released her embrace and rose. She rustled her wings, then trotted for the door, sparing a slight nod to Rarity as she passed. “I’m afraid I have a few things to attend to as well. Issues with my old friends in the dragon territories and their stargazing. If you’ll excuse me.” She trotted from the room without a backwards glance, the sunny golden glow of her magic engulfed the door handle and tugged it shut behind her, leaving Twilight alone in her study with Rarity. Alone with the most beautiful mare she’d ever laid eyes on. Her mare-in-waiting. Tea was a wonderful way of relieving tension. There was just something therapeutic in the tried and true process of heating water, choosing a flavor, and waiting for the teapot to whistle on the stove. It also gave Twilight a much needed chance to hide her face, a chance to battle back the blush that worked its way across her treacherous cheeks and let her focus on something other than the unparalleled beauty of a mare sitting just a few steps behind her. “Pardon me for being presumptuous,” Rarity said, “but isn’t making tea supposed to be my job as mare-in-waiting?” Twilight had to bite her lip. She quickly ran through a few thaumatological theorems in her head and willed her feathers not to fluff, no matter how that lovely voice tickled and played in her ears. Aloud, she said, “We’ve only just met, and I’m technically hosting you right now.” A small part of her wondered if it might be a bit too much to offer to send for cookies or sweet cakes with white and purple icing. Probably. And Cadence would see fit to send for a string quartet, or something silly like that, if she ever caught wind of it. A shrill whistling made her ears twitch. It was ready. With a deft flick of a tendril of magic, she levitated the teapot off the stove and lifted the top so she could slip a premade packet of Earl Neigh into the steaming water. Then, summoning a pair of cups and saucers, spoons, and condiments, she trotted over to join Rarity at the round table in her humble sitting room. “I hope you like Earl Neigh,” she mumbled hesitantly as she laid everything out at the center, and set about pouring Rarity’s tea first. “It’s my preferred brew, but I could always send for something else if you like.” Rarity accepted her cup with a smile and a nod of thanks before spooning a bit of sugar and pouring a splash of cream into her tea. “Earl Neigh is perfectly fine with me, Your Highness. In fact, it’s my favorite as well.” Beautiful and sharing her tastes? Twilight jotted that down in her mental notes and began making a file on the mare. No. A file cabinet. Schooling her expression, she managed to limit herself to a tiny smile rather than the goofy grin that threatened to tug at her lips. “Well, that’s a relief. I won’t have to wonder if you’re forcing sips for my benefit.” A scandalized look crossed Rarity’s face. “I wouldn’t—I mean, you shouldn’t feel obligated to appease me, Highness. I’m the mare-in-waiting here!” She brought a hoof to her chest for visual aid. “I’m here to make things easier on you!” Twilight winced. So much for humor. “Well, I’d like you to be comfortable while you’re in my employ,” she replied. Thinking on it a moment, she added, “And please, call me Twilight.” “But—” “As a personal favor,” she continued, holding up a hoof to forestall Rarity’s protests. Though it did pain her, just a little. She rustled her wings. “Calling me Highness or Princess makes me feel like you’re looking for Celestia or Cadence. I grew up just Twilight and, I know it won’t be the same for others but … I’d rather somepony outside my family treat me like the filly I grew up as. A friend.” Or more. More would be nice too. “If you’re willing.” Rarity paused a moment to take a contemplative sip of her tea, her mouth set in a line. “I suppose I can understand what you mean,” she muttered after some thought. With a single nod, her smile returned. “Very well, Twilight. I’d be happy to be your friend as well.” She waggled her snow white ears. “I’d be happy to help you with some of Ponyville’s more, ah, rustic traditions, if you’d like. As well as the rest of Harmony Province.” Twilight’s ears perked up. “I’d like that a lot, actually. I’ve sort of set a bit of an agenda for what I hope to do with the province.” “Oh? What did you have in mind?” Candlelit dinner and a walk through the Royal Gardens with a beautiful mare, but that could go in the file for later. Twilight glanced over her shoulder toward her study, where her funding proposal lay on her desk. “One of my primary objectives is furthering education,” she said. “I’ve spent most of my time securing funds for improvements in libraries, research facilities, and school systems across the land. I’d like to find a way to do so in Harmony Province, but I’ve heard the system is a bit …” A slender brow arched. “Bare bones?” Rarity supplied. “I was trying to think of something a bit less condescending, but yes.” “Your effort is much appreciated. But, you’re not wrong.” With a chuckle and a shake of her head, Rarity continued, “Most of the province is like Ponyville—education up to early teens, then into trades and apprenticeships involving one’s cutie mark. If they’re lucky enough to find somepony who shares the knowledge. For others, I believe the term is ‘the good ol’ ponies system’ that takes care of things.” Twilight leaned forward, setting her teacup down on the saucer. Her mind raced at a mile a minute. “Tell me more. How does that work?” Rarity turned her teacup about in midair. “I can only speak from experience, but for me, it came from friendship with the Apple family, who in turn have an old business friendship with the Rich family.” She gave a snort of laughter. “Mister Rich, in turn, is very well connected with Fancy Pants and Fleur de Lis, so he helped arrange for me to meet them so I could show original dress designs off.” With a half shrug, she added, “It can be a bit tiresome and difficult if one isn’t social, but it worked out well for me in the end. I mean, that’s how I ended up here!” “So it would seem.” Idly, Twilight added ‘connected to Fancy and Fleur’ to her growing file. “They’re wonderful ponies. Fancy used to tell me stories when I’d wait for Celestia to finish with her meetings so we could have our lessons.” “A most wonderful stallion, if a bit eccentric.” “Ha! That’s an understatement! Does he play his half-information game with you too?” Gasping, Rarity reached across the table and took Twilight’s hoof in hers. A jolt ran up the youngest princess’s leg. “Twilight, darling,” she breathed, “I never thought I would say this, but I have found my soulmate in suffering Fancy’s whims. Truly, we are a match made in heaven.” This time, Twilight didn’t bother trying not to fluff her feathers. Like Cadence meeting a new couple, she fluffed and rustled her wings. “Perhaps, it’s fate then,” she quipped. “Like a second cutie marking, no?” “It seems so.” After a brief pause to sip at her tea, Rarity asked, “So how did you plan to go about changing the system? I hope you don’t mind my prodding, but tradition is rather important to them. Getting them to modernize at all might go at a rather glacial pace, which I do say with love for my hometown.” That was certainly news. Twilight hummed to herself and tapped her hooves on the table, her wings folded neatly at her sides. How was she to bring an entire province so steepled in the old way into the modern age in terms of education? From what she knew, they still forbade spells to perform Winter Wrap Up! She just couldn’t imagine it. She didn’t understand it. She didn’t understand them. Rarity, on the other hoof, did. The gears began to turn in her head, a slow smile spread across Twilight’s face. She could have her cake and eat it too. After all, there was a beautiful mare sitting right across from her, one who knew plenty about the ponies of Harmony Province and already worked for her. She would be a fool not to seize the opportunities so neatly laid out for her. “With great care,” Twilight replied. Rarity’s brows disappeared beneath her bangs. “Oh?” “Yes. Far be it from me to ignore tradition, but I would like to improve on things where I can. If possible, I’d like your input on this. And any ponies you think might have insight.” “In that case, I’d be happy to offer any assistance I may. On top of my other duties.” Such a generous mare. “Would you like to go out to lunch sometime,” the words flowed forth from Twilight’s mouth before she could stop herself, “just to get to know one another a bit more. And … celebrate a, ah, new friendship and business relationship?” Inwardly, she winced at her slip up. She could almost kick herself. “I would like that,” Rarity replied, much to her relief. “Although, I must confess, I may have to beg Fancy and Fleur to watch my charges for the evening.” “Charges?” “My sister and her little friend. Lovable fillies, really. But they can be a bit—” she rolled a hoof in a forward circle “—excitable. And I’d hate to have them bother you with their chatter, Twilight.” “No, please,” Twilight said with an eager grin. “Bring them. I don’t mind at all.” Blinking, Rarity arched a brow. “You’re certain?” She bobbed her head. “Of course. I mean, you’re going to be working for—with me now. I imagine I’ll be seeing quite a bit of your little sister, so I’d like to meet her as well.” “Oh! Well, when you put it like that, I’d be delighted. When were you thinking?” “Er, did you have plans with them? I’d hate for you to cancel.” “They wanted to see a bit more of the city this evening, since we were supposed to leave tomorrow.” She wrinkled her snout, her brows knitted together in thought. “Though, I suppose I’ll have to send them home and find lodging for myself, given that you’re not leaving until Friday.” Find her own lodgings? Twilight shook her head. That simply wouldn’t do. “Don’t spend any more of your bits on a room. You can stay in one of the guest rooms here,” she said firmly. “I’ll arrange it. And one for the fillies as well.” “I—but—Your Highness, this is most generous, but—” “Twilight,” she reminded Rarity with a smile. “And don’t fret. Your job may be to make things run smoothly and comfortably for me, but there’s no reason I can’t do the same for you. After all, you’re not just my mare-in-waiting.” Her feathers fluffed again. “You’re my friend.”