She strode in, confident and grand, and she turned heads.
They saw a mare at the height of her life, dressed in a multi-layered dress of blue, varying from the bright, shining hues of a diamond under a lamp to the deep, vanishing inkiness of the night.
They saw a mare giddy to be among the socialites, among the well-to-do and anybodies of not only Equestria but so many of its neighbours.
They saw her mask, a half-faced blindfold of the same near-black fabric, speckled with tiny white beads like stares.
None of them saw Rarity, Princess Consort, currently presumed missing but very much alive.
A grand band flanked one side of the high ceilinged room, filling the air with slow cheer to match the decadent pleasure of food and drink.
It was the same food and drink Rarity adored as she wandered around, fluttering her eyes at dames and gents alike and fitting right into their circles like she was one of them.
Which, admittedly, she was, but they didn’t know why at those moments.
As the night whiled away she found herself chatting up magnates and merchants, learning about the odd behaviour of the Princess of Equestria. She had declared a holiday then subsequently vanished, leaving her council and the parliament in charge. An official decree proven to be penned in her own horn writing explained very little beyond the necessities of the situation.
It made Rarity giggle.
Eventually she found herself beside some more familiar faces, those of a few Canterlot residents she had spent more than a few dinners with. Most were boring ministers and civil servants, and as much as she wanted to avoid being caught by them, she had to move over and join in for the same reason.
A stallion in a sharp suit told an awful joke. He had well combed hair and an equally well combed moustache, and with a unicorn mare Rarity’s age—thus an excellent vintage if she said so herself—at his side. He had aged fairly well since they had first met, Rarity admitted.
The crowd around him laughed at his joke, then so did Rarity after a delayed few seconds.
It took him a few moments, but he caught Rarity’s gaze, and raised an eyebrow. Just as he drew a breath to speak, Rarity was walking past him, briefly tapping a hoof to his mouth and assuring his silence. She grinned, he stared, and then she was gone.
Even later on, the band altered their pace and tune, gradually turning to something more rhythmic, upbeat. Little by little the conversationalists trickled toward the edges of the room, leaving the middle to the couples locked hoof-in-hoof.
Rarity found herself at the periphery, teetering on the edge of stepping on and joining the other masked dancers, but the eyes at the edges kept her from diving in. She’d be spotted on her own, and with that many eyes she was sure she’d be spotted and found out.
It seemed somepony else decided for her.
Rarity stumbled, shunted from the side and then dragged by the leg onto the floor. She regained her footing as much as she could on three legs, as the fourth was held up by the rude pony that pushed her out.
She almost stumbled again when actually looking at her unexpected dance partner.
The world around her blurred out as she spun, putting the other pony into focus. It was hard to make out many details. They wore a gold headband, adorned with a spiralling horn while a deep lavender mask covered half their face. They wore a robe or dress in a deep, cosmic purple, and like Rarity’s mask it was decorated with tiny gems.
All Rarity could actually make out of the pony was a smug smirk.
The dancer swapped their legs, reaching out with the other front hoof, and at the same time came to a sudden stop and spun around Rarity the other way.
Rarity followed suit without hesitation.
Grinning, Rarity opened her mouth to speak, but then thought better of it. Various words wanted to leap off her tongue but she held them back.
Instead she fell into the moment, letting herself be spun and corralled across the dance floor, part of the greater performance of the night.
It was as she stared into her partner’s eyes that she noticed something out of place. It was hard to see their colour, shaded behind the mask as they were, but as they whirled under one of the chandeliers she caught what was up.
They were green.
Her smile waned, but still stuck to her face if at least to be polite.
“Twilight?” she asked, and the other pony let her go.
She stumbled into the middle of the room, losing the rhythm of the night despite the band’s and dancer’s continued efforts. It was there she noticed just how many of the dancers were dressed the same, with the same robes and dresses, the same masks.
They closed in on her in unison, crowding around her. With bumping flanks and hooves stepping on hooves, she was forced to follow their flow. Their smiles and glinting eyes filled her vision, and the whirlwind of coloured manes and tails blurred the line where one pony ended and another began.
Just as Rarity reached the end of her tether, ready to shout and throw up a hoof in surrender, the dancing mass dispersed. The heat of bodies disappeared, replaced with the cool air of the night, and the dimmed light of a garden at night.
Rarity breathed heavily, her shoulders rising and falling, while her heart thudded in her ears. The manic moment still sat fresh with her, but the cold shock of the outside air brought her down.
She glanced over her shoulder to the party, and the last of the troupe that accosted her vanished into the crowd. She turned to the party, a hoof held out to carry her forward, but she hesitated again.
Muttering something impolite to herself, Rarity instead took one of the benches outside, hidden in the shade of the doorway. She took off her mask, slipping it from over her ears, which is when she saw it fall to the floor.
A letter, in familiar paper, with familiar penmareship.
As if the energy of the dance gripped her a second time she took it up and tore it open, then read by hornlight.
A minute later the letter was stamped on as Rarity darted back to the party. She shoved her way through the crowd with a smile again painted across her face.
Dear Rarity,
Really. This is where you started. At a party.
Yes I am judging you.
I admit I was definitely surprised at this idea. You’re not as plan oriented as me but you’re not exactly the impulsive type either. At least, not the big dumb idea kind of impulsive.
But I also understood what you’re feeling. Even before I took over for Celestia and Luna, I kind of felt like I was being made redundant.
I was okay with that at first! It meant that I could focus on other things important to me, like my friends, or reading, or the school. It even gave me more time for you, and I’m pretty sure we both agree that is definitely a good thing.
But then as time went on I found I was falling into a routine again. I might be older, wiser, and far better suited for the life I lead than anypony else, but I’ve definitely started to feel like I’m just living the life I used to live before everything. Before Ponyville, before the elements, before you.
Just going day to day doing math and reading books.
I hope you don’t mind my little surprise. I know, it’s a tease. I promise you I was one of the dancers.
Love, yours truly,
Twilight.