“Th-This isn’t a castle!”
“Oh, sure it is, Rares!” Rainbow Dash managed to squeak out between diaphragm-busting bouts of laughter. “Looks good as new!”
Rainbow Dash’s occasional mocking may have seemed like unplanned random acts of jackassery, but she actually took great pride in her quite exhaustive planning. Take, for instance, the matter of Rarity’s oft-discussed but hitherto unseen castle. In this situation, Rainbow had thought it best to assign a sort of reverse bell-curve distribution of japes – if the castle turned out to be flawless, it was only natural to make fun of Rarity for her new acquisition, as, outside of making sure that Rarity didn’t get to feeling too high-and-mighty, it would also be mostly harmless. If, however, the castle was instead a bit rundown, a little leaky, and staffed with miserable locals, Rainbow Dash decided that is was probably best to lay off the jeers for a little bit, or at least once the initial disappointment had started to mellow into just another layer of simmering misery.
And as for the other side of the bell curve? If the castle was some kind of mix of a quarry and landfill?
Then bring on the jokes, because it can’t get any worse.
In her defense, if funniness was directly correlated with shittiness, then this was absolutely fucking hilarious. Despite the present circumstances, the property could indeed be roughly described as a castle, or, rather, what was once a castle, and the rough shapes of a leaning, roofless tower and low unsteady walls still rose out of the Bitalian landscape, although both had been fairly conclusively depleted by weather, wind, and, judging by the other low buildings surrounding the site, sticky hooves.
“I just – I don’t – I can’t – hey!” Rarity stamped a forehoof, wheeling around to the now thoroughly enraptured Rainbow Dash. “What’s so fucking funny, huh?”
Rainbow Dash only managed to point a forehoof and utter a choked “castle!” between heaving breaths, rolling in the dirt in apparent blatant disregard for the craftsponyship of the much-beleaguered Bitalian mare whose hooves wrought it.
“I reiterate, Rainbow; what is so fucking funny.” Rarity narrowed her eyebrows. “Because, in case you have forgotten, we don’t have anywhere else to, oh, I don’t know, sleep? Stay? Generally satisfy our basic need for shelter?” She swept a forehoof across the scene. “I don’t know about you, Rainbow, but I generally do not like cuddling with rocks, and I certainly do not like dying of exposure in the rain.”
Her mood quite sternly contradicted by Rarity’s severity, Rainbow Dash’s laughing fit somewhat awkwardly tapered off into a few awkward chuckles, follow her sheepishly rubbing the side of her head with a hoof. “Oh, uh, I, um, guess you’re right.” She paused for a moment, then jovially threw out her wings (shawl be damned) in a shrug. “Well, Rares, I can tell you that we don’t have to worry about rain.” She gave an immensely important foreleg flex, then pointed at herself with the same hoof. “After all, you’re talking to Ponyville’s foremost cloud engineer r-r-rright here!”
Rarity snorted in derision. “Oh, gee, what a delightful bit of knowledge. I’m sure you’ll put it to good use when you build a citadel of clouds above my rock-pit just so you can mock me.”
“‘Just so you can mock – ’” Rainbow Dash, joviality cut with genuine concern, shook her head.“What? No! I – look, I’m sorry I made fun of this, okay? I-I didn’t really mean to be mean, Rares. I was just trying to, y’know, lighten up the mood a little.”
“Well you didn’t!” Rarity snapped, stamping a forehoof. “Oh, yeah, you really lightened the mood, Rainbow. I’m sure the audience of this magnificent comedic fucking tragedy is eating up yet another round of ‘kick the fat little paper-crown countess.’” She spun a forehoof in the air, gesturing like a circus ringmaster. “What wonderful comedic timing! Your outright astonishing capability for vitriol continues to be unmatched, my dear Rainbow!”
“Jeez, Rarity!” Rainbow Dash took a step back. “Glad to see that’s all you think of me, huh? Oh, yeah, forget the whole ‘getting us away from the cops’ and ‘dunking your sorry ass out of the ocean,’ I guess, because all I’m good for is tormenting the precious contessa, huh?” She threw out her wings again, this time in exasperation. “Fuck the dumbass pegasus who got dragged along, right? Nobody gives a rat’s speckled ass about the friend who got duped into this humongous pile of dogshit, right?”
“You elected to be here, Rainbow!” Rarity stepped forward, eyes full of fire and hackles raised. “I watched you elect to be here!”
“So did you, dumbass!” Rainbow Dash mirrored her step, drawing in nearly face to face and wings shooting out into threat posture, sending the shawl flying. “Don’t act like you’re not in the same boat as me!”
“Only because they lied–”
“–oh please, and they didn’t lie to me, Ra–”
“It’s not the same, Rainb–”
“–oh, really, cunt? What’s different about–”
“Excuse me? Cunt? You recalcitrant little–”
From above, a magnificent “CA-HAWNK!”
“Gah!”
“Eek!”
Both mares jumped back, dresses fluffing as they were shocked out of their feud by something overhead. Looking up into the tree branch overhanging the path, they saw a hefty white-throated raven perched atop the limb, looking quite smug with itself, as ravens often did. As they watched, the raven cocked its head and let out a warbly “Kaa-hunt!”
Rarity and Rainbow Dash, memory of their disagreement fading in the face of such audacious avian activity, almost instantly broke into giggles. “Well, I guess someone didn’t take kindly to the two of us having a shouting match under his tree, hmm?” said Rarity after a moment to compose herself.
“Guess not.” Rainbow Dash appraised her fellow feathered companion with a glance. “Got anything else, bud?”
The raven once again looked at Rarity, then, authoritatively, repeated himself. “Kaa-hunt!”
Rarity rolled her eyes. “Oh, great, the feathered ones are ganging up on me.” She looked at Rainbow Dash, smirking gently. “I assume a friend of yours?”
Rainbow Dash scoffed. “What? Nah, c’mon, passerines? You’d never catch me with such lame-o birds.” She shrugged. “But maybe a friend of a friend.”
After a pause, and with raised forehoof, clearly confused mid-response, Rarity looked back dumbly, the metaphor clearly having not quite landed. “…What?”
“Passerines, Rarity. Songbirds and stuff.” Rainbow Dash explained after a huff. “No talons. Lame!”
The raven squawked in protest.
Rainbow Dash pointed an accusatory forehoof. “Shut it, you!”
Rarity rolled her eyes. “No, the friend of a friend part, Rainbow, although I am impressed by your knowledge of ornithology.”
“Well, duh, of course I know my birds. You gotta know what kinda wings you got, Rarity. Some pegasi have wings like eagles, some have wings like albatrosses, and some have wings like, uh, squabs.” Rainbow Dash winced in sympathy. “I’ve got ones like a hobby falcon, if you’re curious, which is why I have to be so careful about exercising, because if I put on a little pudge I’ll just sink in a thermal.”
“I see.” Rarity cocked her head in interest. “Is that typical for pegasi?”
“No, most don’t have wings like me. You kind of only see it from the old warrior stock. Fluttershy, for example, has wings like a vulture, which sounds like an insult but really just means she could fly for freakin’ ages in a thermal if she had the wing muscles for it.”
“Does she?”
“No, and it pisses me off, but whatever.” Rainbow Dash shrugged. “Anyway, she’s also the reference I was making earlier, the friend of a friend thing? Y’know, because animals, and friends fighting, and she wouldn’t like her friends fighting?”
Rarity thought for a moment. “Well, it’s a slightly convoluted metaphor, but, now understanding it, I must agree; that’s probably accurate.” She coughed politely. “I wager she indeed would be most cross to see us come to blows, as I find the idea that she would be amicable to the idea of physical confrontation quite unlikely.”
Fluttershy, reaching down to pull up a rear stocking under a stolen dress from Cadence’s limited wardrobe at Canterlot Castle (much depleted, but quite a few items remained from her youthful days when she sized mostly the same as Fluttershy), suddenly tensed up, swearing as she clutched her side.
“Fluttershy?” Luna peered around a changing divider, noting, to her displeasure, that Fluttershy had just attempted to bend at the waist with two freshly broken ribs. “Fluttershy,” she doted, “you mustn’t aggravate your injury! You know well enough we would help you.”
“Yes,” Fluttershy squeaked out, “but I forgot for a second.”
“Then do not forget next time.” Luna’s horn lit, gently pulling the exposed stocking the rest of the way up before buttoning it neatly to a garter.
“I’ll try to remember,” deadpanned Fluttershy, offering the other hind leg once Luna had finished with the first.
“Do so,” said Luna, missing the sarcasm.
A moment passed, Luna carefully raising and buttoning the other stocking.
“You know,” started Fluttershy, “I actually don’t regret breaking Twilight’s nose at, um, all.”
“Really?” Luna raised an eyebrow. “After your impassioned speech to the contrary?”
“Well, I’m still sad it went that way, and that my friend and I got so mad we started fighting, and all the rest of it.” Fluttershy smirked lightly. “But, given that it did, I’m pretty glad that I, uh, gave as good as I got too.”
“Hah!” Luna chuckled, levitating over a dainty tiara (also stolen, of course) from a wooden case with a smashed-open lock. “Well! Perhaps a bit of that ancient pegasus blood runs through you yet!”
Fluttershy watched the tiara nestle itself neatly at the front of her suitably regal hairdo. “I’m the Element of Kindness, Luna. Not the element of losing.”
Rarity continued. “And anyway, Rainbow, I’m sorry that I snapped at you.”
“Nah, don’t be, Rares.” Rainbow Dash shook her head. “I’ll admit, that one was a little bit mean, even for me.”
“It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, Rainbow, really, it’s just–” she scrunched her face in thought, trying to find the right words “–I was just hoping something would come out right this trip, you know?”
“Well, we aren’t in jail, so that came out right.”
“No, that’s an outcome that isn’t the worst possible. That isn’t the same thing.” Rarity tapped a forehoof, thinking for a moment. “Look. Rainbow, if I’ve inadvertently discounted your difficulties, I apologize. That wasn’t my intention. I’ve just – I’ve had a really hard couple of weeks, okay? I started this whole thing by simply answering the door, and now look at me; I’m bald, I’ve got red hair–”
“–well, so do I, Rares–”
“–yes, but you always have red hair; or, at least some of it.” Rarity shook her head. “And, even worse, Rainbow, some of this is permanent.” She pointed to the scar that sat proudly below her left eye. “I freely admit I was never the best looking of all the girls, as it were, maybe number, er, three, at best, but now, to add insult to injury, I’m packing the prominent scars of a lifetime soldier too, just to really ensure I’ll never be able to model my own dresses.”
“What? Nah, Rares, it’s not that bad.” Rainbow Dash gave a mostly-convincing reassuring smile. “It’s an opportunity, y’know. Kinda badass. Maybe you could make a theme off it?”
“I don’t want to make badass clothes, Rainbow. I want to make beautiful ones.”
“Things can be badass and beautiful, Rares,” Rainbow Dash offered. “I mean, look at you and me, right? Save the world on Tuesday, turn heads on Wednesday, right?”
“I would posit that – wait, hang on a second, Rainbow, was that a genuine compliment?” Rarity clutched a forehoof to her breast, equally shocked and surprised. “Me, ‘beautiful?’”
“Well, sure, I guess.” Rainbow Dash shrugged. “I mean, I’m not going to disagree with what you said about not being the ‘best looking,’ because that’s clearly true and it’s obviously Fluttershy–”
“–yeah, right?” Rarity huffed good-naturedly. “It’s actually quite frustrating, really.”
“Oh, Celestia, tell me about it.” Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “I actually got her to get out of the house one time and go out with me to one of the usual spots, right, ‘cause I was thinking that it would be nice to have a wingmare for once, right?” She shook her head ruefully. “But nope! Turns out I’m the wingmare.”
“Did she apologize to you about all the attention you weren’t getting?” Rarity chuckled. “One time I took her to a formal event, you know, dressed her up, got the mane out of her eyes, a bit of makeup, the full works, and she was almost crying she felt so bad after the first thirty minutes.”
“Yeah, but after three or four glasses she just started kinda aggressively pointing them my way. It didn’t work, but it was a nice thought.” She shook her head. “But look, Rares, not being able to compete with our annoyingly gorgeous friend aside, that doesn’t mean you’re bad looking, Rares; I’ve heard enough puberty-driven ramblings from Spike to know that’s not true, and I don’t think a little scar is going to drive anypony away.”
“…Perhaps, Rainbow,” Rarity answered, thinking that, at some point, she really needed to have a conversation with the little lizard about what constituted acceptable conversation topics. “Well, that aside, and perhaps worst of all, I’m still crippled,” Rarity sighed. “And outside of my displeasure about things like being unable to effectively operate cutlery, the fact remains that I am presently unable to do my actual job.” She paused for a moment, waiting for a response from Rainbow Dash that didn’t come. “…What, no words of encouragement?”
“No, nah, that just sucks, Rares.” Rainbow Dash shook her head. “If I lost a wing, like, permanently, I’d probably just find a nice cliff somewhere and tuck the other one in, y’know?”
“Well, I’m not quite there yet, Rainbow, but I’m glad you understand.” Rarity pointed to the castle. “So, to bring this astonishingly roundabout conversation back to the original point; forgive me for being so short. I suppose there was some part of me that really just wanted this one thing to go right. Just, walk over the hill, find a perfectly preserved castle staffed by handsome butlers and stocked with fine wines and fine dresses.”
“I mean, Rares, judging by everything else in this place I predicted that, like, ten hours ago.”
“Obviously, Rainbow. But, crucially, I didn’t know that a week and a half ago, which is the important part.” Rarity sighed, sitting back onto her haunches. “But, more realistically, I knew it wasn’t going to be a lavish chateau, Rainbow, but I was, I suppose foolishly, still holding out hope for something like, oh, a roof? Running water? A warm bed – caveat, my own warm bed.”
“Your own?” Rainbow Dash guffawed. “What, you tired of sharing with the Rainbow Dash?”
“I’m tired of pulling your feathers out of my tail, yes.” Rarity rolled her eyes. “That being said, that was a hierarchical presentation of needs; I should think a roof is the most important part.”
“Well, in that case, I don’t think we’re out of luck yet, Rarity.” Rainbow Dash pointed to the bottom of the castle wall, where a few small buildings had been constructed against the remnants of the wall. “Because I’m pretty sure I see a couple intact roofs in there.”
“We may be lucky yet, then.” Rarity looked around the landscape. “Although I’d be surprised if any of these shacks are inhabited, considering the lack of, well, anything around that I can see.”
“Only one way to find out, Rarity!” With that, Rainbow Dash trotted towards the ruins.
Rainbow Dash, shawl once again affixed around her wings, raised a hoof to push in the door of the most promising looking hovel.
“A-ta-ta, Rainbow!” Rarity tutted, fidgeting with the rifle still ensconced in towels across her back.
“What?”
“One does not simply push in ponies’ front doors, Rainbow Dash.” Rarity chastised. “It’s rude.”
“Rarity, nopony lives here, clearly.”
“Well, you don’t know that!” Rarity shook her head disapprovingly. “Far from our minds should it be to judge another’s living situation.”
“Yeah, I do, Rarity.” Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes, but did raise her hoof to knock as opposed to pushing in the door. “Look, it makes you feel better, I’ll knock on–”
As if to prove Rainbow wrong, the door flung open.
“Ciao, ah, and–” The pony behind the door, a lanky and coltish unicorn youngster, no more than late teenager in age, dressed in stately if quite old fashioned and slightly oversized robes, gasped, eyes wide as he gazed upon the gorgeous mare that darkened his door. “Y-you must – you are the–”
“Yes?” Rarity raised an eyebrow, amused by how much this stallion reminded her of the aforementioned love-struck lizard. “The what, sir?”
The stallion, after a little stutter, managed to get out the rest of his statement. “Y-you are the most fetching mare my eyes have ever had the fortune of falling upon.” He bowed in a theatrical show of respect. “May I ask your name, signora?”
Rarity clutched a forehoof to her breast, suddenly looking enormously pleased with herself. “Oh, my! What a gentlestallion. I am the–”
The colt coughed once, shooting a glance at Rainbow Dash.
Rarity’s newly smiling face collapsed into another scowl. “You have to be fucking kidding–”
“Hah!” Rainbow Dash smugly clapped a forehoof across Rarity’s withers as she pumped the other in victory, complemented with a stadium chant. “That’s right! Num-ber three! Num-ber three!”
“Hilarious.” Rarity rudely shucked off Rainbow Dash’s forehoof, sending her sprawling to the floor, dress bunching up around her waist as she turned to address the stallion. “Well then, loverboy, would you care to explain what you are doing here?”
“D-doing here?” The stallion cocked his head in confusion. “I, er, live here, no?”
Rarity took a look around the dimly lit hovel. Sure enough, this was clearly a domestic space, if a profoundly odd one; interspersed with normal items of domesticity seemingly at random was a collection of precious items, all at various levels of disrepair – here a lovely silver platter streaked with lines of ugly tarnish, there a tapestry moth-eaten and threadbare on the corner. “I … see. And these are all your items of–”
“Oh, but forgive me, you two,” the young stallion interrupted in a display of hilarious irony, “for where are my manners to as have not introduced myself!” He ducked his head, pulling his forehoof to his chest. “I am, ah, Empty Ledger, if you please.”
“Empty Ledger?” Rainbow Dash, having recovered from her tumble, raised an eyebrow. “That’s a depressing name. How’d your parents come up with that?”
The stallion lightly coughed. “Parent,” he corrected.
“What?”
“Parent,” he reiterated with practiced words. “My mother died in childbirth from the poisoning of the blood.”
“Oh.” Rainbow Dash rubbed the back of her head with a forehoof. “My, uh, condolences.”
“I did not know her well enough to grieve, but I do digress.” He continued. “But, to answer the question you have, my father named me in the tradition of our line. We served as stewards for the conti e contesse of this house from its ennobling by the imperatrice until its ending, and for generations the tradition continued.”
“So I see.” Rarity looked around for any sign of this elder steward. “Is your father around?”
“Ah, no.” The stallion shook his head once again, this time with a little less practiced detachment but still with an impressive amount of composure for his youthful age. “My father perished ten years ago after he was press-ganged into the service of another lord.”
“Which left you thus orphaned at age …?” Rarity trailed off, raising a hoof in question.
“Age eight, signora.”
“Age eight?” Rarity recoiled in horror, shooting Rainbow Dash a quick glance.
“Another orphan,” mused a similarly shocked Rainbow Dash under her breath into Rarity’s ear. “I think I’m noticing a trend.”
“Me too,” replied Rarity, gulping. She turned back to the stallion. “And did your father know the lord or lady of the castle before his passing?”
“Know th – oh, no, of course not.” The stallion shook his head. “The contessa has been dead for about two hundred years, well before his time.”
“Two hundred years?” Rarity gave a few slow blinks, then looked around at the surroundings. “Well, I suppose that explains the condition.”
“Yes, in part.” he replied with a nod. “After the castle was rendered empty and the House of Mareanello-Manegila’s wealth was dispersed, it found itself repurposed as building materials for the remaining residents. The weather and a shaking of the earth did the rest, of course.”
“Other residents? I don’t recall seeing any other substantial residences on the way in.”
“There are none else; only I remain.”
Rainbow Dash butted in. “But, like, why?” She gestured with a forehoof. “This place is a dump.”
The stallion affixed Rainbow Dash with a look. “An orphaned child is not particularly wont of leaving the roof above his head.”
“Oh, uh,” Rainbow Dash sheepishly shrugged. “Yeah, that, uh, makes sense.”
Satisfied, he turned back to Rarity. “Anyway, I suppose I forgot to ask; what brings you to this, as your friend put it, dump?”
“Oh, right.” Rarity took a moment to compose herself, affixing her most noble look to her face. “Well, to make a long story short, I’m the, er, new contessa.”
A moment passed in silence, the stallion looking back in abject confusion. “…Che?”
“The new conte–”
“No, signora, I heard what you said.” The stallion shook his head. “But it is nonsense, assolutamente nonsense. You cannot be the lady of this castle, for the line of Mareanello-Manegila is totally extinct, and there is no viceroy to ennoble one into this position.”
“I am not of any noble blood, so the first point is moot, and I don’t know anything about a viceroy, but I can assure you I am this castle’s lady.”
“By whose word, signora?” shot back the stallion, wary after having seen a few “long-lost cadet branch” claiming grifters in his short time.
“By the authority of the sovereign,” said Rarity with a smirk, satisfied that her credentials would be sufficiently shocking to show up the suspicious little would-be steward. “We were ennobled by Princess Luna herself.”
Rather than the dramatic cowing she expected, the stallion merely stared back dumbly, brow creased in confusion.
“What?”
“Princess – signora, there is only one imperatrice in High Canterlot, and it is radiant Celestia.” He shook his head. “And there is only two of the alicorns anyway; Celestia and the lovely Cadenza from the south.”
“You – what?” Rainbow Dash, puzzled, recoiled. “What are you talking about two princesses? There’s at least three.”
“Four,” corrected Rarity gently. “Twilight–”
“No castle, no crown, no Princess,” snarked Rainbow Dash under her breath before turning back to the stallion. “C’mon, you know, Luna? Celestia’s sister? Big blue and scary? Kinda dumb? Flat ass?”
“Celestia has no sister,” replied the stallion, his tone conveying a level of assuredness so high it was as if he was describing the color of the sky. “She defeated the foul Nightmare in combat a thousand years ago, banishing her to the fiery depths of the inferno from where she will never return.”
Rarity and Rainbow Dash stared back, mouths agape as they looked between themselves in absolute befuddlement. “Uh.”
“But,” the stallion continued unabated, “your story is so ridiculous that I must agree there is some level of possibility to it, so I would like to ensure.” He turned around, then, after a bit of rummaging through a pile, tossed a jeweled coronet onto a table, following it with an elegantly adorned short-sword in a scabbard.
Rarity eyed the offered items suspiciously. “What am I supposed to do with these?”
“Prove your claim,” the stallion responded smugly. “For these are enchanted with spells which will burn you horribly if you are … not …”
Rarity finished placing the coronet atop her wig, which, after a small tingle, remained resolutely not on fire.
The stallion extended a shaky hoof. “B-buh-but the crown has not–”
“Yes.”
A gulp. “W-which does mean that you are legitimately the–”
“Yes.”
“And that a there is a princess–”
“Yes.”
“An-and that you are a contessa, who I have repeatedly insulted.”
Rarity chuckled lightly. “Well, perhaps justifiably. I can’t say that I’d be particularly trusting of a strange mare who … appeared…” she coughed “er, what are you…?”
“My apologies, then.” The stallion had maneuvered in front of Rarity, dipping his horn in front of her face. “Do what you must; I will not beg.”
“Do what I–” Rarity gasped, shaking her head “–goodness me, no, I’m not going to harm you!”
The stallion, after a start and a momentary loss of composure, replied. “You aren’t?”
“Of course not. What, am I some kind of sadist?”
“Judging by his examples, I’d say it was a pretty good guess, Rares,” noted Rainbow Dash. She turned to address the youngster. “And, dang, you’re taking this like a champ. If I was about to get, like, horribly maimed I would, uh–” she scratched the back of her head “–well, shit, I don’t know what I’d do.”
“I, uh–” he sank to his haunches, steely demeanor flowing away with a prodigious sigh. “I have had much time to prepare my responses to such an encounter; I had resolved to not go away in the same way my father did.”
“Unexpectedly mature,” Rarity mused.
“I don’t think this place gives a lot of time for foalhood,” Rainbow Dash added.
“It does for some, but I am not as unlucky as one would hope,” the stallion replied before looking back to his guests. “But, I digress, I am truly sorry for the disrespect.”
“No, please, don’t be. I made assumptions about what you knew.” In truth, Rarity was still reeling from the news that at least some of the ponies of this land had somehow avoided hearing about the return of the immortal sister of High Celestia, but she had filed that away under “ask later in case the reasons are as bad as expected.” Shoving that down, she took a deep breath, composing herself. “Now, let’s try our introductions again. I am Rarity, the contessa of this place. This–” she gestured to Rainbow Dash “–is my, er, bodyguard. Now, what did you say your name was again?”
“Empty Ledger, ma’am.”
“That’s right.” Rarity, realizing that she hadn’t tried the other object on the table, hefted the sword and scabbard absentmindedly. “Well, Mr. Ledger, I think you can clearly see that my friend and I are rather unknowledgeable about this place.” She smiled gently. “And as, I would argue, you have found yourself to be rather suddenly employed in your family’s tradition, do you think you could give us something of a tour, steward?”
Fortunately, and much to Rarity’s delight, the castle’s devastation wasn’t quite uniform, and there were some rooms with intact roofs, one of which was the main dining hall, featuring a well-sooted heath, long benches, and, remarkably, the remnants of what had once been a lovely set of drapes. However, it was the enormous portrait over the opening of the fireplace that drew the attention of all assembled.
Rarity scanned over the framed painting. “I presume this is she, then?”
It was a striking portrait. The mare pictured, a lightly teal-coated mare of about middle age, long sunset-orange mane streaked with lines of gray and dressed in a low-necked goldenrod dress and silver shoes, sat erect in a fine high-backed chair, foreleg thrown across the back and face fixed in a deep sneer in a challenge to the viewer that, even in the dilapidated surroundings, bore a certain unquestioned superiority. “Who are you to dirty my floor with your presence?”
“Uh-huh.” Rarity lowered her eyebrows somewhat distastefully. “She doesn’t exactly look like a particularly pleasant lady.”
“What? Oh no. Hah!” The stallion chuckled ruefully. “Oh, no, signora, the contessa was a pony most abhorrent.”
“So I see.” Rarity frowned. “Seems to be something of a theme with the local elites, it would seem.”
The stallion raised an eyebrow. “You have had a meeting with them already?”
“A run-in with a pony who has herself had a run-in, rather.” Rarity thought for a moment. “A seamstress in, er–” she waved a forehoof vaguely in the direction she and Rainbow Dash had come from “–the port town in that direction.”
The stallion thought for a moment, then lit up in recognition. “Oh! You must mean Thrift-Thread, the little mare in Moneighlia, with the, er–” he spun a hoof around his horn.
With a shudder, Rarity nodded.
“–right, yes.” He grimaced. “Yes, we have met a few times when I must venture forth to have a garment repaired. She is a nice girl; it is an unfortunate thing indeed that she had the misfortune to meet with Signora Galloparte – she is one of the worst, you see.” He shook his head. “I digress. The contessa was a wicked mare; unpleasant by our time but awful in her own.”
“What’s that mean?” Rainbow Dash asked. “Like, she murdered some dudes or something?”
“Well, yes, she did, and stole money from holdings in Marelan to furnish her castle and wardrobe, but that is not terribly unusual, especially in our own time.”
“Then what was it?” Rainbow Dash interjected, clearly eager to get to the good stuff.
The stallion shot her a look of annoyance, but continued. “Her worst faults were of a … carnal nature, which is even now quite reprehensible. The contessa strictly preferred the company of mares, hence the extinction of the line; not unknown in her time, especially behind the walls of palaces.” He paused, preempting the next question. “Before you ask, signora, no, that is not her crime; her crime is that, in contrast to her peer’s occasional trysts most salacious behind closed doors, she did not want to waste her time with courtship; she merely selected her next, ah, prey, regardless of their own marital status, and had them brought to her for performance.”
“…Oh,” Rarity, after a pause, tersely replied, looking very understandably disgusted. “Evidently, the principle of noblesse oblige never quite migrated to this place.”
“It was not always quite like this, signora,” the stallion offered. “I have no doubt the founding families of this place, ennobled by the imperatrice, were mighty ponies, and even the contessa’s father and grandfather were decent enough ponies if a bit gluttonous, but all things fall apart.” He shrugged. “If it is any comfort, as is so often the case, the contessa’s own demise is the fault of her own evils. As the story goes, one day she did take the castle lands’ new game warden’s young wife while he worked in the forest to cull a herd of boars. When he returned from his task to find his weeping beloved, he suddenly decided that, the consequences be damned, he would avenge his honor, and marched up to the contessa in her chair above her court and quite swiftly and decisively disemboweled her with his hunting sword.”
Rainbow Dash cocked her head. “Like, just in front of everypony?”
“Oh yes. It is said that a court painter was working at the time, and, somewhere, there is a sketch of her mid-expiration. If so, it is not here.” He shook his head. “Of course, the real tragedy, and perhaps irony, of the matter is that the contessa’s indiscretions were allowed to continue because of her courtiers’ fear of retribution from her famously fiery temper as well as consequences from the other members of the court, but not one hoof was actually lifted in her aid. She died, intestines spread across the floor, completely alone, and by the hoof of her own gamekeeper. Who would have expected?”
“… Her employed warden? Yes, who indeed.” Rarity added with a cough, glancing across the stones in front of where the lord’s chair likely sat: no evidence was immediately apparent for stains. “I must commend you for your evocative storytelling.”
“My father was sure to tell me plenty of tales in between my sessions of tutoring, both of which I am especially grateful for.”
“Tutelage in what?” Rainbow Dash cocked her head in mild confusion. She, in light of her informal ward, had extensive experience with tutors; while of course many bright students sought additional help, her experience was more of the “desperate attempt to help a truly dumb kid” variety, hence the confusion. “You seem like a smart kid, and I can’t see you having any problems in school.”
“School?” The stallion raised an eyebrow. “Signora, I can assure you, we were by no means wealthy enough for me to be sent off for my schooling.”
“Sent off?” Rarity thought for a moment, then frowned, mentally adding another item, public education, to the rapidly growing list of things Bitaly failed utterly at. “Oh, I see. I suppose that explains the poor tailor’s unfamiliarity with the term ‘high-school,’ although I still had held out hope for at least primary schooling.”
“Ah, no, not out here at least. Some experiments in Roan, I believe, but not here.” He shook his head. “But I cannot complain too much; I was given an altogether effective tutelage in arithmetic and literacy, both in my own tongue and yours.” He dipped his head in a slightly meek display. “I, ah, have not had an opportunity to speak yours much, as I do not get many visitors. I hope it is satisfactory.”
“It is excellent, I assure you.” Rarity chuckled. “Your diction is better than hers–” she indicated to Rainbow Dash with a nod “–easily, and she’s at least ostensibly a native speaker.”
“Hey!” Rainbow Dash shot back, semi-playfully outraged. “What do you mean, ‘ostensibly?’”
Rarity smirked. “Do you mean the implication of the sentence? Or do you not know the definition of the word, thereby proving my point?”
“The implication of the sentence, smart-ass!” Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Gods, you’re insufferable,” she added, drawing out the final word to prove her own vocabulary in spite of Rarity’s mocking. “I meant, to answer your question; what else would be my first language?”
“Presumably birdsong and grunting, which I’m not sure you’ve moved far beyond, really,” snarked Rarity.
“Alright, that’s it, you over-sized marshmallow!” Rainbow Dash stomped a forehoof with a furious squeak that, much to Rarity’s eminent delight, was not totally unlike the squawking of poultry. “Where’s that dude’s sword?” she asked the stallion. “I hope you can draw, because I’m about to do a rerun, and I’d hate for you to miss a chance to get a picture.”
The stallion backed away, visibly concerned. “It – it is not here, as it was his own sword.” He shook his head. “But I would greatly prefer if, for many reasons, if you did not gut your own sister in main hall of this castle, signora.”
Both mares, stopping their fussing at a start, turned to face the stallion; Rainbow Dash looking deeply confused, Rarity with a rapidly growing mischievously delighted smile. “…What?” said Rainbow Dash first, shaking her head. “Rarity isn’t my – ack!”
Rainbow Dash found herself rather decisively interrupted by Rarity virtually launching herself at and over the still-befuddled pegasus, the unicorn vigorously tussling her captive’s mane. “Oh, she would never do that to her big sis! It’s just siblings fighting about something silly; no need to worry!” She preemptively put a foreleg across Rainbow Dash’s face, cutting off any protests. “What gave it away, hmm? Ponies always seem to miss the relation.”
“Oh!” The stallion chuckled in relief. “I am glad to hear I will not have to clean up entrails from the stones; one would presume they stain.” He pointed at Rarity’s wig with a forehoof. “And, to answer your question, signora, it is the manes that clued me in. You both have nearly the same color with wildly different coats.”
“How perceptive!” Rarity ceased tussling Rainbow Dash’s mane (which wasn’t really that close in color, being more than a few shades lighter, but she had long since given up on stallions’ abilities to properly describe color), but kept the foreleg across her mouth. “Yes, she and I both take after our father – same mane color as mine, you see.”
“I do.” The stallion looked a little closer at the two. “But I presume from the quite different coats and bone structures that–”
“Oh, yes, we do not have the same mothers.” Rarity gave a theatrical sigh. “Sis here is a product of our father’s indiscretions, you see – which, I suppose, considering my new social rank, makes her a quite literal bastard–” a muffled scream from under her foreleg; Rarity continued unabated “–but I would never hold that against her, of course – I love her as much as anypony could.”
He nodded. “Of course, his sins are not hers.”
“My thoughts exactly – I’ve felt that way since I first saw her, really. Children can be so much more understanding than adults sometimes.” She shrugged, impressively still maintaining a hold on the squirming pegasus underneath. “I digress. I shan’t keep us from your tour around this castle–”
“Your castle, signora,” he gently corrected. “What you see is yours.” His face lit up. “Oh! Speaking of, I suppose that the remaining trophies and other items are yours as well to do with as you wish.” He set off down a corridor. “Please, follow me, if you would.”
Rarity pointedly did not follow him, instead letting him disappear around the corner before releasing her captive. Rainbow Dash immediately backed away, wings visibly rising under her shawl. “What the heck, Rares?” she demanded. “What was that about?”
“What was what about, Rainbow Dash?” replied Rarity knowingly.
“What was what – you know what, Rarity!” She shook her head vigorously. “I don’t know, you telling him we’re sisters? Does that ring a bell?”
“Oh, that? Well, logically, I did it as a form of misdirection for our current evasion from imperial authorities.” She smirked. “Truthfully? I did it because it is hilarious.”
“Hilarious? What’s the joke? What’s funny about that?”
“Your indignant reaction quite literally right now, for one.” Rarity chuckled, then set off down the corridor after their guide. “And do calm down. I’m sure we’ll find something in the care of this castle to cheer you back up.”
“I doubt it!” shot back Rainbow Dash, following Rarity nonetheless. “Because it’s going to have to be pretty freaking cool to do that!”
Well, she was drooling, so that was probably a good sign that it was.
“Rainbow, dear, you’re making a fool of yourself.” Rarity grumbled, eyeing the growing puddle.
“I want them.”
Now, to Rainbow Dash’s credit, it was appropriately drool-worthy. Hung somewhat haphazardly from an armor stand were an almost rust-free cuirass, complete with attractive edge trimming in a tarnished brass, tied-on spaulders, and, importantly, wing holes, a relatively undecorated burgonet helmet, without facemask but with high crest, and, perhaps most excitingly of all, a fat scabbard hanging from the belt of the armor, basket hilt protruding above it.
Rainbow Dash turned back to Rarity. “I want them,” she repeated.
“Rainbow, whatever the legal status of their ownership, we are not ransacking this poor stallion’s prized possessions.” She gestured to the hanging armor. “It’s probably some sort of family heirloom!”
“It is not,” he clarified. “Not much remains from our days of service, but what does is hidden away.”
“See!” Rainbow Dash said, wings rustling under her shawl in excitement. “It’s free for the taking!”
“There’s got to be a catch,” grumbled Rarity. “There’s no way that, despite the ransacking of this castle, this eminently steal-able item would remain.”
“Most of the dispersion of things took place early on, and I believe my ancestor at the time stashed it away, although I could not tell you why – I believe it belonged to a condottiiera in the castles employ, who I believe was also perhaps his lover. I do not remember.”
“Then it’s cursed, or something!”
“Only in form. I suspect the reason it is still here is because it is an uncommon size; it is quite small and is cut for a pegasus, which you are … not…”
Rainbow Dash had already pulled off the shawl, releasing her wings which had begun to flutter in excitement. Unsurprisingly, the stallion’s eyes had shot wide upon the sight of them; more surprisingly, and somewhat disconcertingly, it tended quite sharply away from the alarmed panic Rarity had expected and more towards mouth-agape captivation, an assessment aided by the growing blush on his cheeks.
“Rainbow!” Rarity hissed, noticing their host’s reaction. “Rainbow, stop debasing yourself in front of–”
Rainbow Dash, ever the bold, was now attempting to find where the bottom of her collection of skirts and underskirts lay.
“–oh, gods, Rainbow, you’re going to kill the poor fool!” Rarity chastised under her breath, gesturing to the stallion with a shrug, who did indeed look like he was on the verge of fainting.
The threat of potential lethality temporarily shocked Rainbow Dash out of her hurried undressing. “Huh?” She looked up from her now thoroughly rumpled skirt, catching glimpse of the nearly gasping youngster. “Oh. Oh! Right, I–” she noticed his eyes on her wings, then, after a moment of thought, affixed her very sultriest (which wasn’t particularly so in an absolute sense; she wasn’t very good at this) smolder to her face, drawing a wing across like a concubine’s harem-silks. “Oh?”
The stallion did not answer, presumably because he was unable to.
“Oh, you like these?” Rainbow Dash took a step towards him, running the tip of a feather under his jaw. “Then how about you find me something else to have?” She drew a little closer in. “’Cause if you do I might just be out of this by the time you come back.”
The speed at which he left the room would not have been uncharacteristic for Rainbow Dash herself.
Rarity watched him go, then turned to her friend with a scowl. “Oh, you despicable cradle-robbing–”
“Chill, Rares!” Rainbow Dash huffed back. “I didn’t jump into bed with him; all I did was tease him a little.”
“That’s–”
“That’s what? That’s wrong to show off a little to get something out of some drooling schmuck?’ Because I’d check your own ledgers before you start casting stones, sis.”
“Excuse me?” Rarity clutched a foreleg to her chest in outraged hurt. “I would never–”
“Really?” Rainbow Dash snorted a laugh. “Oh, yeah, like you’ve never batted your eyelashes and thrown your hips around to get what you want.”
“That’s – that’s not the same thing, Rainbow!” Rarity spat back. “I will admit, I have been known to, on occasion, mmph, show off a little to squeeze a better price out of a business associate – but that does not mean I go dragging my tail across the flanks of some poor unfortunate to place them under my beck and call!”
“No?” Rainbow Dash accused. “Really? Because I sure have heard some lines around your house that say that you sure do.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, come on, Rarity. Really?” Rainbow Dash batted her eyes a few times, doing her best impression of Rarity. “‘Oh Spikey-Wikey!–” another flurry of batting “‘–I have some more errands for you, daa-aarling!’”
“H-he enjoys helping me!”
“Because he’s obsessed. Gods, Rares, you have him clean your kitchen! Nopony enjoys that!”
“He’s not–”
“He is.” Rainbow Dash shook her head. “But, look, I’m not here to criticize you, okay? We all have our vices, and I’m not saying you’re a bad pony or anything.” Her expression softened. “But what I am asking is that you let me have a little fun with this, okay? I get to be ‘Rainbow Dash the Awesome’ all the time. I don’t get to be ‘Rainbow Dash the Pretty.”
Rarity thought for a moment, hackles raised, as she attempted to come up with a suitable protest, but eventually relented, relaxing to a still slightly disgruntled set of grumbles. “It’s still just unpleasantly unethical.”
“Rarity, I’m not sure we’ve been doing anything ethical, and I don’t really see that getting any better.” She shrugged. “Now come on, help me get this stupid dress off.”
Rarity trotted over, positioning herself over the laces on the back of Rainbow Dash’s bodice. “You were serious?”
“Duh.” A beat. “Oh! No, not because of what I said. I just want to try on the sick-ass armor.”
Rarity pulled the knot out of the laces, allowing Rainbow Dash to begin wriggling herself out of her garments. “Well, I do hope it fits. I fear my talents for alteration do not extend to breastplates.”
Rainbow Dash responded, but, as her face was presently about halfway down the dress, she wasn’t exactly intelligible.
“What?”
Rainbow Dash finished pulling her head out. “I said, I think it should fit, more or less.” She trotted over to the armor stand, coat still stuck down and rumpled from the dress. “Pegasi like me kind of tend towards a certain size. Sort of a breeding thing.”
Rarity joined her friend. “That close?”
“I think there’s only, like, four sizes for the Wonderbolt uniform, tops, and that includes the stallions and the mares.”
“So I see.” Rarity eyed the helmet. “Hopefully that still applies to your head too – I figure your ego may have increased the circumference enough to render the helmet uncomfortably tight.”
Rainbow Dash chuckled. “Yeah, probably.” She unbuckled the left side of the, letting the breast plate swing away from the back-plate. “Help me lift it? I’ve got to thread my wings in.”
“I’ll try my best – I have a feeling most pages were unicorns.”
After allowing Rarity to grab the far end of the plate with her teeth, Rainbow Dash carefully stuck her wings through the provided holes, then leaned down to push the breastplate up into fastening position. Rarity walked around her, fastening the buckles.
Rainbow Dash looked over her self, smiling and posing. “Aw, dang, do I look good in this or what?”
“Yes, you look like quite the warrior.” Rarity hefted the helmet in a forehoof, giving it a spin. “Want to try this on?”
Rainbow Dash nodded, dipping her head; Rarity fitted the helmet to her friend. “How is it?’
Rainbow Dash shook her head from side to side. “A little loose, but not too bad.” She hopped up and down a few times, smile growing each time. “But the cuirass fits pretty well!”
“Good to know.” Rarity gestured towards the hanging and jostling scabbard. “And the sword?”
“Oh, right!” Rainbow Dash, after a moment to get her hoof properly inside the hilt, pulled the sword from its sheath, revealing a broad, machete-like blade with a surprisingly thin profile. Despite its age, it was in mostly quite good condition, only spotted occasionally with small rust pits.
Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Odd looking thing. It sure doesn’t resemble any sword I’ve ever seen.”
Rainbow Dash echoed the eyebrow. “You’ve seen a lot of swords?”
“I’ve seen the one Fluttershy bought.”
“The one–” Rainbow Dash shook head. “Wait. The one Fluttershy bought?”
“The one and only. She’s got a thing for knives; likely a practical one, considering her occupation. I assume the sword was an outgrowth of her previous interest.”
“…Huh. Can’t say I guessed that one.” Rainbow Dash shrugged. “Well, anyway, the reason you haven’t seen anything like this is because nopony makes swords like this anymore. It’s a, uh–” she thought for a moment, trying to remember an almost-forgotten line from a history book “–falchion! It’s called a falchion.” She gave the sword a few swings. “It’s kind of a specialist thing, right? It’s just for swinging, not thrusting, and it’s really thin, because it’s meant to go through cloth.”
“So, not meant for going up against creatures bedecked in mail?”
Rainbow Dash nodded. “Yeah, it’s for using against things who don’t have hard armor.”
Both mares paused for a moment, thinking about the implications of that specialization.
“You know, there’s sort of an uncomfortable element of environmental storytelling there about cruel mercenaries and desperate peasants,” noted Rarity.
“Yeah, I guess there kind of is,” agreed Rainbow Dash, sheathing the sword.
“Well, hopefully we can put it to better–”
A forceful gasp echoed around the chamber.
Both mares turned toward the entry to the room, spotting their host, panting under the effort of levitating a heavy looking bundle of cloth, a few hilts protruding from one end. An outrageous blush had spread across his face.
“Oh, well, look at you!” Rainbow Dash, once again slipping into her sultriest tone, took two steps towards the stammering steward. “What a big, strong, stallion you are, coming back with all this!”
The stallion, apparently unable to speak, merely squeaked in reply.
Rainbow Dash threw out her wings luxuriantly, gesturing with her primaries. “Now, what have you brought back for us?” She once again ran a wing-tip under his jaw. “I hope it’s–”
“WHAM!”
His carried items fell to the ground, followed closely behind by his unconscious body; evidently, the strain of magically carrying the offered goods combined with the teasing of the gorgeous warrior-mare in front of him was simply too much.
Rarity trotted up. “Good goddesses, Rainbow, I think you killed him!”
“What? Nah, he’s–” Rainbow Dash paused for a moment; thankfully, his chest was still moving “–no, he’s definitely alive.”
A moment passed.
“Probably.”
Thankfully for Rarity, upon diving into the stores of the castle, she was able to pick out more than a few items of interest. While unfortunately the unenchanted regalia of the House of Mareanello-Manegila had been long since appropriated, a decent number of worthwhile items remained: a sort of steel-reinforced vest made of red velvet, which Rainbow Dash helpfully defined as a “brigandine;” a few weapons, the enchanted short-sword from earlier chief among them; and best of them all, a collection of mostly-intact bottles of somewhat mysterious but definitely boozy liquids.
Perhaps more importantly, her earlier fears about lacking a roof were unfounded. While many sections of the castle’s roof had indeed collapsed, a good number of both outer rooms and outlying buildings were fully watertight, including a cozy little chamber fitted out as a guest bedroom with a hearth and two rudimentary but clean hay-mattress beds that the two had retreated to after a light supper, it already being fairly late in an exhausting day.
Said hearth was presently roaring, courtesy of some freshly-cut firewood (by Rainbow Dash, who agreed with Rarity in deeming that a step too far in terms of feminine manipulation) and a judicious dose of horn-fire.
“Well!” proclaimed Rarity, backpedaling away from the fire and looking quite pleased with herself (and also quite bald; her wig having been safely stashed away with her things.) “I think that should do the trick! I’d wager neither of us should have to worry about freezing to death in the middle of the night.”
“Rarity, it’s summer,” deadpanned Rainbow Dash. “I think we would have been okay without a fire.”
Rarity turned her head around. “Would you like me to snuff it out?”
Rainbow Dash answered with silence.
“That’s what I thought,” said Rarity smugly. She turned back to the fire, touching her hoof to areas of the stone floor around the mouth of the fireplace.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking for hot spots and–” she waved a forehoof in front of the fire “–the quality of the draft.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d prefer if we didn’t suffocate in our sleep,” explained Rarity. “We won’t, by the way, nor perish in an inferno; it should burn out in a few hours or so, and there’s nothing for the embers to land on nearby.”
“Your horn make you an expert on fire too?”
“No, my mother did.” Rarity fully turned away from the fire and began trotting towards her bed.
“What, she some kind of, like, fireplace enthusiast?”
“She was a fireplace enthusiast in the same way you and I are enthusiasts of breathing.” Rarity stopped at the side of the bed-frame, selecting one of the pilfered bottles. “It’s cold enough on a winter night up on the mountains to freeze your teeth out without a fire, and while our home in Ponyville was both equipped with furnace heating and distinctly not atop Clingmares Peak, she would be damned not to impress upon us the skills that kept her alive.” She pulled the cork out of the bottle with her teeth. “One of many such skills, actually. How to forage for pokeweed, how to cook pokeweed so one doesn’t die from it, the like.”
“Things that bad up there?”
“You wouldn’t believe it, Rainbow. In many ways, I think my exposure to it has actually rendered me somewhat more resistant to shock at the state of this place – not the acts of individual cruelty, mind you, but the general state of it.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because at a very young age I came to realize that Good Mother Celestia’s pinions don’t quite make it over every pony.” She gave the bottle a swirl. “Albeit in not quite the same way, of course; here, we have an empowered group of blue-blooded reprobates, whereas there they never even made it to the point of having blue-bloods in the first place. As far as I can tell, some golden-helmed pegasus merely flew in one day, told the clans that they now owed fealty to the Great Lady in some place called Canterlot, then fucked off, never to return to all those, as my grandmother once put it before she died, ‘poor bastards up ‘ere on Shit Mountain.’” Rarity sighed, then offered the bottle to Rainbow Dash with an extended forehoof. “I digress; I’m being depressing. Want some?”
She was being awfully depressing, but it wasn’t like Rainbow Dash was going to tell her. “I don’t know. What is it?”
“Well, it–” she looked into the bottle “–it is clear.” A sniff, then a choked gasp. “And strong!” she squeaked.
“How strong?”
“I don’t know exactly, Rainbow. It’s not like they labeled the bottle, but, er, roughly, wait, hang on–” she dug through her belongings, pulling out her powder horn after a bit of rustling. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to try this!”
Rainbow Dash watched skeptically as Rarity uncapped the horn, pouring out a short line of black powder on the stone floor of the chamber before wetting it with the liquor in question. After a second or two to let it saturate, she bent down, igniting the tip of her horn and touching it to the trail of powder, which promptly went off with a puff of smoke; Rarity jumped back just in time to save her eyebrows, not having a lot of hair to lose, you see.
“Gah!” Rainbow Dash likewise retreated from the spectacle. “What was that, Rares?”
“That,” stated Rarity, looking absolutely chuffed, “is capital-p Proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“No, it’s proof of, er, Proof, like the number on the front of the bottle. It means it burns in powder, so, what, sixty percent or so?”
“Sixty?” Rainbow Dash shook her head, eyes wide. “Uh, nah, screw that! I’m not trying to go freaking blind.”
“Suit yourself.” Rarity shrugged, then lifted the bottle to her lips, throwing her head back and pulling a few quick gulps.
Rainbow Dash, eyes somehow even wider in alarm, gasped. “Oh, Celestia, how–”
Rarity put the bottle down, somehow not even flinching at the quantity of lighter fluid she just chugged as she replaced the cork. She turned her head to face her aghast friend. “What?”
Having been rendered momentarily unable to speak, Rainbow Dash gestured between Rarity and the bottle of rotgut while making befuddled squeaks.
Rarity got the gist of the gesticulations. “Look, I lost my earplugs somewhere in the kerfuffle earlier, and I would prefer to actually sleep tonight such that I may face the day tomorrow, so, in such desperate times, knocking myself out is an altogether not illogical solution.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’ll be a barrel of sunshine tomorrow morning, too.”
“You’d be surprised, Rainbow; I spent much of our time at Cadence’s wedding painfully hungover, which is probably how I managed to put a back hoof through a changeling’s face. I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see about that.” Rainbow Dash snorted semi-derisively. “I’m just going to go ahead and guess Future Rarity isn’t going to agree.” She paused. “What are we doing tomorrow anyway? Did we ever establish that?”
“Well, we didn’t, but I did. I figured I would just tell you as we did it.”
“Thanks for involving me,” Rainbow Dash deadpanned. “What is it, then?”
“Well, tomorrow morning I’m going to ask one Empty Ledger about who he believes the least despicable of the electorate is, then we shall travel to the city and seek an audience of some sort if only so we can actually figure out what we’d need to actually accomplish our task. Meanwhile, I’ll ask him – or, actually, I’ll have you ask him – to fulfill some tasks I need doing; mainly, securing two parcels from the griffon lands I’ve had shipped to the nearest Post office and delivering a list of requested garments to the nice tailor we met earlier we both will be needing.”
“Uh-huh.” Rainbow Dash didn’t sound particularly convinced. “Uh, Rares, I’m not sure that straight up walking into the house of one of these ponies is a great idea.”
“I’m sure it will be fine – I don’t think they will attack us in broad daylight or anything of that ilk, as surely law enforcement wouldn’t allow that, right?”
“I mean, I guess, but if they didn’t stop–” she shook her head “–never mind. I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
“We will.” Rarity shrugged. “I suppose if he says they’re all absolutely abhorrent we’ll have to think of an alternative, but surely at least one of them is a decent pony, no?”
Rainbow Dash didn’t look so sure.
“Well, anyway,” Rarity said with a yawn, slipping under the (fur, disturbingly) blanket. “I’m about to lose consciousness, so I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I guess so. ‘Night.” Rainbow Dash likewise placed herself, wings facing up and out of the blanket, in her bed, hay mattress rustling loudly as she squirmed.
A few minutes passed, every fifteen seconds of which were punctuated with the sounds of Rainbow Dash’s mattress creaking.
“Creator above, Rainbow!” exclaimed Rarity after a particularly loud bout. “Will you settle down? I’m trying to enjoy the ambiance of the fire over here!”
“Sorry! I’m just, uh, it’s just that–”
“Yes?”
“–It’s that I – oh, gods, this is embarrassing–” a sniff “–I, uh, kinda got used to, um, us, uh…”
“Us what, Rainbow? You got used to – oh!” Rarity exclaimed, already starting to laugh. “Oh Celestia, did you–”
“N-no!”
“You did! Ha!” Rarity started to baby-talk. “Did wittle sissy get used to cuddles with big sis and now she’s won-wee and can’t sweep?”
“No!” shouted back Rainbow Dash, supremely unconvincing.
A beat.
“…yeah,” corrected Rainbow Dash, defeated.
“Ugh!” protested Rarity non-seriously. “Well, I had been planning on enjoying my own bed, but I suppose I can make an exception. Come on then, Wainbow!”
“S-stop it with the baby-talk, weirdo!”
“Ah-ah-ah! You can’t have it both ways!”
Another grumble, then the sound of hoofsteps.
“That’s what I thought, wittle sis.”