When a pony sees another pony who is much bigger than them, they tend to become rather tense and focused on them, doing their best to keep out of their way as much as possible. While ponies usually have perfectly functional peripheral vision, the length of their bodies relative to their height means that their haunches don't always register in it. And, as they lack eyes on their hindquarters (the occasional Cutie Mark notwithstanding), it is far from unknown for their haunches and tails to go places their owners do not intend. For most ponies, this isn't much of an issue, but for the very tall or broad, it can cause trouble. So, it is natural for others to be wary of such ponies.
When a pony sees the leader of their civilization, they usually give them their undivided attention. Regardless of how aware the pony in question is of their leader having their own life, the natural assumption is that if they are present, there must be a reason and that reason could be important – a matter of life and death, in some cases. Even if said leader is demonstrably, say, visiting the kitchens for a little off-the-books snack, the natural response if they are seen is to give them attention and respect at all times.
When a pony sees a mare that is perceived by many to be a goddess, there is almost always at least a temptation to bow, curtsy and genuflect to them as much as possible as long as they are in view and for a good while afterwards. Even if the pony in their presence lacks such belief themselves, the power of tradition and social pressure is immense. Besides which, many subscribe to the philosophy of one Blaze Pastel, that it's better to assume their divinity and act accordingly since, if you're wrong, you will have lost nothing. This is not strictly true, as the part of said potential-goddess's mind that had been sighing continuously for centuries could attest, but there's no way for them to know that. And, of course, there is no way for the supposed deity to disprove the notion and eliminate the belief, no matter how hard they try. Particularly when they themselves aren't entirely sure about their existential status and have no desire to test and find out.
Regardless, as all three of these things, it did Celestia's mood a great deal of good to see that, as she walked into the vast hall of the castle that was being prepared to host the annual Hearth's Warming ball, none of the workers gave her more than a long glance and a deep, respectful nod. Clearly, the matter was being handled by consummate professionals.
Admittedly, among the castle's staff, this was to be expected – one of the first things any new staff member was taught was to avoid excessively prostrating themselves before the Princess. This was not, it must be said, for the reasons Celestia would have preferred for them to refrain from groveling to her, but for simple pragmatism – if, every time the extremely busy and frequently mobile princess passed by, you spent ten minutes bowing and scraping, little would ever get done around the castle.
However, Celestia saw very few familiar faces among the various ponies working and decorating, meaning their professionalism could, most likely, be attributed to being carefully and wisely selected by the main organizer and decorator of this year's ball.
Celestia smiled as she caught sight of the lady in question and turned to approach her, picking up on the unicorn muttering to herself, even as her expert eyes were focused on scrutinizing the work around her.
“Perhaps a few more pansies on the stage. I've no desire to be a literalist, but it would balance things out a little more. But would tha- Oh!” Rarity's eyes snapped back the moment they registered the approaching Princess. She turned and went into a deep, elaborate bow. “Your Majesty! To what do we owe the honour of your visit?”
Normally, such a display would cause the sighing part of Celestia's mind to intensify a few notches and force her to put more energy into maintaining her neutral smile. However, focused as she was on the unicorn's face and body language, Celestia had caught the brief, almost-imperceptible smile she'd had before launching into her greeting. Clearly, Rarity enjoyed such theatrics – she most likely knew that Celestia neither needed nor craved such veneration, but was simply doing it because she wanted to. And that made Celestia smile more genuinely than any other bow had in years.
Still, she didn't dwell on it, instead gesturing for her to rise and looking around the room. “Hardly, an honour, Rarity. Just thought I'd come and take a look at how things are coming along. I'm sure you're used to officials coming to check on things.”
Celestia chuckled internally as she saw Rarity start for a moment before schooling herself, hiding her brief surprise and worry behind a smile that Celestia found all too familiar. “Ah, yes, quite. Well, as you can see,” she gestured to the hall around her, “things are proceeding quite nicely – well ahead of schedule.”
“That's good,” Celestia nodded gently. “Perhaps, once preparations are complete, you'll have some time to return to Ponyville before the ball.”
Rarity's face hardened slightly. “Oh, I've no intention of doing any such thing, I can assure you. Even if we were to finish main preparations tomorrow, I would remain until the ball is finished to tweak things and deal with any problems that might come along.”
“Even if you've already perfected things?” Celestia asked with a wry smile.
As expected, Rarity glowed for a moment at the implication before sighing. “There's no such thing as perfection, Your Highness. Only the point you give up on improving. Besides,” she gained her own small, if somewhat guilty, smile, “I'm in no great hurry to get back to Ponyville.”
Celestia kept her smile up, not wanting to seem like she was condemning Rarity, but raised an eyebrow, silently urging her to continue.
Rarity closed her eyes and sighed slightly. “Oh, please don't misunderstand – I absolutely adore my parents and sister and I always enjoy spending Hearth's Warming with them. However,” she shifted uncomfortably for a moment, “during the run-up to Hearth's Warming, it can be... a touch strenuous to be around them. Or rather, their house. Or rather, what can be seen of it beneath all the decorations.”
“Ah!” Celestia nodded in understanding. “A matter of taste, I presume.”
Rarity chuckled. “Perhaps, but as I've yet to find any, I can't say for certain,” she said with a smirk, clearly meaning no hostility with the barb. “In any case, the preparations are coming along very well, better even than my expectations. I daresay this year's ball will be one to remember for years to come.”
“Oh, I don't think there's any doubt about that,” Celestia said as she took another look around. “Of course, it could well have been etched into ponies' memories even if you hadn't been here, but you have definitely helped with making sure they'll remember it well. An interesting theme you've gone for,” she said, moving casually on from her previous point as if had merely been an idle, passing thought. Still, she did catch Rarity's momentary surprise and uncertainty out of the corner of her eye, watching as it morphed into a subtle, understated concern about whether or not Celestia truly meant anything or was just making conversation.
Rarity blinked for a moment before nodding. “Er, yes. Well, it occurred to me that, as important as the story of the founders is to Hearth's Warming and to Equestria, there's very little imagery of the founders themselves evoked with it.”
Celestia nodded. “Indeed – there are cultures that celebrate the holiday without associating it with them at all.”
“Oh, absolutely, and that's hardly a problem – hence why the primary theming remains consistent with that,” Rarity assured her, gesturing around to the decorations of white and silver that dominated the room, speckled with red and green. “However, I thought it could be interesting to have some aspects themed around the founders.”
Celestia gave her a slightly cheeky smile. “And not, of course, due to having played one of them last year.”
Rarity laughed gently. “That is certainly what brought it to mind, but hardly a major factor in the decision. Fun as it was to... indulge in such a character, I've no desire to make it a lifestyle choice. I merely thought some subtle allusions would work well for such an event. As you can see, the entrance has shades of Commander Hurricane – the similarity between the announcement of the guests and a military roll call seemed apropos – while the main area is split between Princess Platinum and Smart Cookie.” She gestures to the area where most of the guests would congregate, with dark blues, purples and hints of gold faded into deep greens, maroons and bronze.
Celestia nodded. “Interesting. It's possible that some of the nobles – those that notice, at least – might not be eager to linger around the latter.” She looked at Rarity's face, clearly reading her expression and thought process in an instant. “I daresay you've already thought of that – perhaps as an experiment to see which of the guests gravitate toward which area?” She smiled as Rarity began to nod before blinking in surprise and catching herself. “I take it that's why I will be situated at the mid-point between them – so as not to interfere with any such observation?”
Rarity raised an eyebrow, a coy smile on her lips. “I've no idea what you mean, Your Highness. You will merely be in the centre of everything, as you should be. Any other results are purely coincidental... as is the symbolism of the duality between the glamour and luxury of ruling a nation and the struggle and hard work of actually running it.”
Celestia nodded, keeping her expression as encouragingly neutral as ever, even as she felt the urge to widen her eyes, impressed at Rarity's thoughtfulness and keen observation. Somehow, she got the feeling Rarity noticed her reaction anyway.
After a moment, Rarity sighed. “Besides, I suspect few among the guests would notice the symbolism and even fewer would care for it.”
Celestia nodded. “Indeed. Many ponies do have... very firm opinions about important ponies that don't always line up with the facts.”
This time, Rarity was only thrown off a little. At this point, it was clear she knew Celestia was almost certainly teasing her, but she didn't want to say anything in case she wasn't – if Celestia didn't know about what had happened, she wasn't going to tell her.
As such, she moved on quickly. “Indeed. As for the music and the dance floor, I themed that after Private Pansy – it seemed appropriate for the most empathetic of the founders... even if the way some nobles treat their fellow dancers would be more appropriate for Commander Hurricane, but I didn't feel it prudent to glorify that fact.”
Celestia hummed as she observed the floral arrangements around the stage. “I would have expected her area to be the courtyard and gardens.”
Rarity gave a soft chuckle. “Yes, that is the natural thought. However, if Clover's contributions to astronomy were half as multitudinous and important as Twilight has described, I think it would have been disrespectful not to have her area be outdoors. Though, admittedly, I am not as familiar with all of her discoveries as perhaps I should be.”
Celestia allowed a small hint of a smirk to work its way into her expression. “Not, I presume, for lack of trying on Twilight's part.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Rarity laughed before a thoughtful look came to her face. “Actually, thinking about it, you, of all ponies, probably do. But yes – for the longest time, it seemed as though the only book she wouldn't read about Clover and the Founders was the script.” She shook her head, an expression of fond exasperation on her face.
Celestia gave a regal chuckle, allowing a bit more warmth into her demeanour as she felt a similar feeling about her former student. After a moment, though, a slightly more pensive thought broke through. “I do wonder how much time she'll spend out there herself this year. On her own.”
Rarity pursed her lips in thought for a moment before shaking her head. “She has only recently ascended to royalty, Princess. I hardly think it's surprising or unreasonable that she's not used to the social aspects and pressures involved, if she ever will be. I really don't think she should be forced to be somepony she's not if she doesn't want to be.” She paused for a moment before a sly smirk flashed onto her face for a moment. “I daresay you and I would know that more than most.”
There was a momentary pause as the pair's eyes met, a moment of understanding passing invisibly between them.
After a second, though, Rarity looked away. “Regardless, I don't think spending some time out beneath the stars could be considered a vice. Particularly when there are so many of them.” She looked out through the glass of the huge door, out into the courtyard and up at the field of stars in the sky that evening. “I really must look into the spell you use for that – with the amount of light pollution Canterlot creates, one shouldn't be able to see nearly as many stars as that from the castle.”
“You'd have to ask my sister about that,” Celestia replied, looking up at the sky. “While she doesn't strictly need to see the stars to make her beautiful nights, I gather it does help considerably, so she came up with a spell to deal with that.”
Rarity hummed, a little disappointed. “And, if I had to guess, even if it doesn't require an alicorn's power, it will have been made with one in mind. Ah well, it can't hurt to ask her at some point and, if all else fails, hope that I get my own set of wings someday.”
Celestia put on her most enigmatic smile, mostly out of amusement. “Well, you never know. Anyway, that only leaves one founder to have their own area.”
Rarity gave a wistful sigh as she turned back to the room. “Indeed – the good chancellor will be responsible for the refreshment area. A touch literal, I know, but I suspect Pinkie would have taken considerable issue with any other arrangement.” The two shared a brief chuckle before Rarity continued. “You know, I did consider asking for her help in designing this ball – not as a primary planner, of course, just a bit of artistic input. However, for something like this, I'd rather be able to keep everything within my own specifications so as not to miss anything that goes wrong.”
Celestia paused for a moment, considering what to say next. She was presented with another perfect opportunity to tease the young mare, but also to cut straight to the heart of the matter. After a second, she decided the latter was only fair... after one more brief bit of fun.
“Yes, I'm sure as trained an eye as yours could pick out anything even remotely out of place,” she paused for a split second as Rarity tensed up a little before continuing casually, “like... a bomb, for instance?”
Rarity's face and posture tensed for a fraction of a second before slumping, a curious mixture of shock and disappointment at hearing something she didn't want to, resignation at hearing exactly what she expected to and relief at having her suspicions confirmed. “Ah, you, er... you did hear about that, then?”
Celestia gave a single, quiet chuckle, endeared by the sight. “Rarity, I may not be as omniscient as many like to think, but I can overhear gossip with one ear tied behind my back.”
Rarity's posture slumped further, sending a twinge of guilt through Celestia's chest. “I see. I suppose it was foolish to hope the incident wouldn't get out of the castle.”
Celestia winced – clearly she had gone a little too far. “I wouldn't say that – I admit, I was somewhat overstating it to describe it as 'gossip'. I merely overheard a couple of servants whispering about it. In fact,” she gave Rarity her most encouraging smile, “they were reluctant to even tell me about it, so I suspect the secret might be safer than you think.”
She sighed in relief as she saw Rarity's tension dissipate. She took a moment to make sure it was gone before continuing, “Forgive my teasing. It's simply that... well, from what they tell me, you more or less single-hoofedly dealt with the entire issue and I... never took you for the sort of mare to be shy of such publicity.”
A mild blush made itself plainly visible on Rarity's face – the curse of having a white coat, as Celestia well knew – and she looked away. “Oh, I assure you, that's not it. Once the ball is over, I wouldn't be averse to other ponies knowing... some of the details. It's simply that I was hired to make this year's ball as beautiful and successful as possible and... well, I hardly think the knowledge of an attempted terrorist attack will do much for its allure.”
Celestia considered this for a moment. “Understandable, but I really think you needn't worry. I'll consult the parliamentary press team – they'll know what to do. To be frank, if I know Dr Top, she'll find some way to turn it into a selling point. However, before that, if it would be alright, I would like to hear exactly what happened.”
Rarity nodded. “Straight from the monkey's mouth, as it were? I suppose you really should know.” She paused for a few seconds, a heavy conflict raging across her face before she sighed. “However, as tempting as it is to flaunt and exaggerate my own accomplishments before you... I really can't bring myself to. Not that I suspect you'd be fooled anyway. The fact is, it was in no way difficult to notice what had happened – the pony who had planted the bombs had been extraordinarily clumsy about it and it was plain to see how the table had been disrupted. Why, the centrepiece had been moved a good eight inches. Dreadfully sloppy.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow, surprised at Rarity's view of things. “Well, even granting that, there's the question of how quickly you identified the culprit.”
Rarity scoffed. “Oh, if anything, that was even easier. As you say, I am used to dignitaries coming by to check up on things, but when that is one's cover story, it is generally best to look the part. Frankly, from the way he was dressed, I was suspicious of him even before I noticed what he'd done.”
Celestia tilted her head a little, perturbed at the apparent discrimination. “Ah, he did not look suitably refined?”
“Oh, no, quite the reverse, actually,” Rarity said, giving her a reassuring smile. “He was dressed, for the most part, impeccably. Absolutely perfect Business Formal, down to the last fibre. Whoever picked out the suit and, most likely, dressed him in it is to be congratulated, assuming they were not party to his plans.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “You're sure he had help with that?”
“Oh, positive!” Rarity chirped, a bit of her normal pride returning to her voice. “If he had the fashion sense to dress himself like that, he would have known how much the hat and flower stuck out. I mean, really! A top hat and corsage with Business Formal? He might as well have hung a sign on himself and done a dance as he'd planted his bombs – it would have been no less obvious. It was clear he wasn't what he claimed – besides, he hardly carried himself like it – and, as said top hat was the ideal size to smuggle the bombs in, it was perfectly plain what had happened. So, you see, I hardly think identifying him was that great an achievement.”
“And, by all accounts, expertly picking his pocket for the detonator?” Celestia asked with a challenging smirk.
Rarity's eyes widened a millimetre for a moment, as if she'd forgotten about that. “Oh. Well, yes, I suppose I can feel a touch proud about that. 'Expertly' might be overselling it a little, but I have always had a light touch with my magic.” She smiled broadly and drew herself up a little. “Besides, I could hardly have confronted him while he had the ability to detonate, could I? It would have ruined the decorations. And, well, as accusations go, I suppose pulling the proof from his own pocket was nicely conclusive.” She kept smiling for a moment before a tiny crease appeared on her brow and her posture slumped. “I just wish I'd thought to deprive him of his knife as well. It was rather obvious the corsage was hiding something like that.”
Celestia furrowed her brow, a touch confused. “From the way I heard it, you allowed him to take you hostage. I assumed it was so that he wouldn't think to take anypony else.”
Rarity gave a melancholy chuckle. “Well, I suppose I can be glad I appeared so in control. I certainly like to think I would have if I'd thought to but, in truth, he just surprised me. He moved much faster – both in speed and readiness – than I'd anticipated and I wasn't able to move at all before he had the blade to my throat.”
Celestia's face remained skeptical. “Of course... for the few seconds before you disarmed him and got him onto the ground.”
Rarity rolled her eyes. “Well, yes, but even a green belt could have gotten out of that hold, and a black belt should never have gotten into it in the first place. Clearly, I've gotten far rustier than I thought – I'm going to have to re-apply and test for my third Dan at some point. Dreadful display, I'm afraid.”
Celestia hummed a little to herself as Rarity kept going. “In any case, after that, it was merely a question of informing the guard – asking their discretion, of course – and going over everything with the finest of tooth combs, just in case there were any more surprises hidden. There weren’t, of course, but one can’t be too careful. Although,” her ears folded back a little and she looked away awkwardly, “I suppose I should really have informed you myself – I was intending to once an opportunity presented itself, but, well, we've both been so busy…” she trailed off, seeming to realize that the Princess wasn’t really responding.
Celestia looked at Rarity for a long, silent moment, her face unmoving but her eyes tightly focused on the pony before her. Had her words come from another pony, they could be dismissed as... Celestia believed the modern term was 'humble-bragging' – making an over-the-top show of how humble and self-effacing you were in order to make yourself seem even more impressive. And, in-keeping with that, she could see that Rarity was keeping a degree of control over her tone and voice. No more that she had throughout the conversation, but it would be enough for most ponies to conclude that she was being disingenuous.
Princess Celestia, however, was not most ponies. She had literal centuries of experience reading ponies and some experience talking to this pony in particular. As such, it was obvious to her that Rarity meant every word, if only because whenever the elegant mare did do something she felt was worthy of pride, she was not remotely shy about letting others know. She truly meant it when she said that her actions were nothing to crow about.
However, if Celestia's assessment was right, as she was certain it was, it wouldn't be accurate to call it true humility either. In a sense, it was the opposite – Rarity knew exactly what she'd done and how superbly she had acquitted herself... but she held herself to such high standards that she didn't find it notable. Yes, her actions had been impressive, but for Rarity, 'impressive' was only a baseline to be improved upon.
Celestia closed her eyes for a moment, a small laugh escaping her lips. “Rarity, you truly are a remarkable mare.”
She opened her eyes and, for a single, infinitesimal moment, Celestia felt as though she was looking into a slightly distorted mirror, her own analytical mindset and reasoning reflected on the face of the mare in front of her.
Then it was gone, so quickly that, were Celestia less sure of herself, she might have thought she'd imagined it.
“Have you learned exactly why he did it?” Rarity asked, almost hiding her intention to change the subject and distract from the mutual examination. “I presume it had to do with that... writing we found in his bag. I fear Twilight might disagree with calling it a story or essay.”
“You read it?” Celestia asked, not thinking to disagree with the latter statement.
Rarity sighed. “I skimmed it, I'm afraid – some Earth Pony Supremacist tract about how Puddinghead was actually a perfect, blameless, flawless, level-headed genius who never did anything even remotely wrong and could and did create a perfect, impossibly brilliant utopia with Cookie and every other Earth Pony, all of whom were perfect uberponsches too, of course, only for the other tribes to destroy everything and smear their memory out of pure jealousy and spite. Oh, and Clover and Pansy were part of Cookie's harem, because of course they were!” Rarity snorted out a sigh, her artistic sensibilities clearly disturbed by the work.
Celestia raised an eyebrow, a little concerned. “Are you alright?”
Rarity gave a slightly grim chuckle. “I'll be fine. To be honest, the worst part was that the actual quality of the writing was rather good in places. I daresay, if he had expanded it a bit, added some character and plot and dialed back the proselytizing, he could have had an interesting story on his hooves. Ah well, c'est la vie. Have you learned anything more from him?”
“Little that couldn't be gleaned from that,” Celestia replied, thinking over what she'd read from the report. “He thought that any reference to the Puddinghead we know was a direct, intentional insult to his more 'accurate' version and to Earth Ponies in general – and, indeed, supremacist is the perfect word. He was also intending to bomb this year's play – in fact, that was initially his only target until he caught wind of your plans – but your capture of him put paid to that, I'm happy to say.”
Rarity gave a small sigh. “Truly a go-getter of a fanatic. We can only hope he can be rehabilitated and can put that energy and creativity to more productive use.”
Celestia gave Rarity another look, searching for any hint of insincerity about her stated hope, finding nothing. It seemed that Rarity truly did feel no true hatred for this pony, only pity. No respect – such was the very nature of pity – but sadness and a hope that they could improve. It seemed that her generosity did not stop with material matters.
Still, Celestia knew her well enough to know that said generosity never prevented her from enjoying accolades and profit for her work.
So, the Princess drew herself up to her full height and her most official, regal bearing. “Regardless, Rarity, you have single-hoofedly prevented not one, but two disasters. You have, in a very real sense, saved Hearth's Warming. And, while you were already to be paid for your services as organizer for the ball, it is only right that you should be further rewarded for your service above and beyond your duty. Is there anything you desire from Equestria or from me?”
Once more, silence fell over the pair, clearly felt even through the noises of the workers around them. Rarity looked at Celestia for a long time, thinking hard. However, how much of her thoughts were considering the question and how much were considering Celestia herself, not even Celestia could guess.
Eventually, Rarity gave a small nod. “As a matter of fact, there is. However,” she gave a reassuring smile, “I'm afraid it is one that needs to be... provided on short notice, immediately after the asking, without any delay. And not one I would ask right now.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “And when would you?”
Rarity pursed her lips in thought for a moment, though Celestia guessed she knew the answer, but wasn't sure whether or not to give it. After a second, though, she nodded. “At the ball itself. And, of course, when it is asked, you will be free to refuse and we can work out an alternative later. However, for the moment, I must ask that you hear my request then and not before.”
An instinctive, apprehensive twinge flared up in the back of Celestia's mind – one of the first rules of politics was to never agree to something, even something that can be taken back, unless you know absolutely everything about it and what it entails.
After a moment, though, she relaxed and remembered that, however skilled the unicorn before her would be at such things, Celestia wasn't dealing with politics. She was dealing with ponies. And the question was whether or not she could trust Rarity.
As such, it barely took a second's thought before she nodded. “Very well, then. We shall wait until then. Although,” she relaxed her stance, “I will admit I am most curious.”
Rarity gave a slightly-too-wide smile. “Now, now, Your Highness. It's bad form to peek at a present before it's given.”