And so you find yourself finishing up the night’s entertainments by splashing around in the clear, cold waters of a fountain in the lovely gardens of Canterlot. You stand beneath the icy cascade, letting it sluice over you and cleanse the sweat and grime and sticky fluids from your skin whilst you examine the marble statue that forms the fountain’s centrepiece.
It depicts a flight of pegasi, sculpted with impressive skill to give an impression of grace and dynamism as they swoop about in battle with a giant winged monster - apparently some description of dragon. The dragon is swatting and snatching at the pegasi tormenting it, but its claws have found only empty air and its head is thrown back in a bellow of fiery rage. From that upturned head comes the spout of water which is raining down on you, making you shiver in the cool night air. You step back out of the torrent so that you are only wading in the surrounding pool, rubbing yourself vigorously all over both to finish the cleaning process and in an effort to warm yourself up a bit.
You’ve only just succeeded in the latter when you hear a tremendous splash close by and find yourself gasping in momentary shock as you are suddenly drenched anew in freezing water. You look up to see Rarity giggling at you, looking so adorable with her mane hanging drenched and dripping around her face that you almost can’t be mad at her.
Almost. You launch yourself with a battle cry and duck her under the water, holding her there for several seconds in sweet vengeance. You’re just letting her up, giving a shit-eating grin as she coughs and splutters, when a sudden impact from behind sends you and Rarity both back under water with Fleur’s spindly form perched triumphantly atop you.
Some time later the three of you finally climb from the fountain, none of you – this time – taking the opportunity to shove anybody else back into the water at the risk of having a leg grabbed and being taken tumbling along with them. You’re all panting and giggling happily, shivering with the cold a little at first as you make your way back across the lawns to reclaim your discarded clothing.
It must be well past midnight when you eventually approach Swan Dive’s back door again, clean and re-clothed. A spell from Rarity has dried off your hair too and put it back in a respectable style, and with a little cooperation the two mares have been able to make each other’s manes and tails look presentable. Rarity signals to you and Fleur to wait behind a bush as she gingerly approaches the French windows to Swan Dive’s dining room, peering inside.
She gives you the all clear and the three of you make your way swiftly through the still lit but now deserted house, only running into Woodhouse – or whatever the butler’s name actually is – who gives you a thoroughly contemptuous ‘hmph’ but otherwise stays out of your way. Swan Dive must be the bearer of the Element of Discretion, you decide; not as glamorous as the Elements of Harmony, maybe, but a quality much to be respected nonetheless.
You part ways with Fleur a ways down the street as she reaches the turnoff for her home. The pink-and-white unicorn scrapes awkwardly at the floor with a hoof, her embarrassment obviously returning in full force as you say your goodbyes. You kneel down and give her a big hug, leaning back in as you disengage to kiss her swiftly on the lips and make her blush fiercely.
Rarity follows suit exactly, and Fleur gives a pleased sigh that turns quickly into an awkward cough.
“It was simply lovely to catch up, darling,” Rarity says with perfect social grace. “We must do this again sometime. Oh, and I’m so glad that you and Anonymous were able to work through your differences.”
She pauses for a moment to give Fleur a chance to reply, but she still seems off-balance so Rarity continues. “Well then – goodbye for now, darling. Goodnight, and sweet dreams.”
“…yeah. Goodnight Rarity. And Anonymous. Um, nice to meet you.”
She subtly changes her stance to a more studiedly elegant pose; you take that to mean she’s more or less herself again. Rarity gives Fleur another brief hug and then walks away as you fall into step.
“She’s going to be okay to get home, right?” you ask with a trace of worry once you and Rarity are some distance away.
“Oh, such a gentleman,” Rarity says, looking over with a smile. “But don’t worry a bit. This isn’t Sigil – the streets of Canterlot are awfully safe. She’ll be absolutely fine.”
“Good.”
There are several questions you could be asking Rarity now – questions addressing issues like what the fuck just happened, whether you should expect it to happen again, how you are supposed to act around the other ponies, and so on and so forth.
Walking back towards the palace alongside her, though, your head still buzzing and your body aching pleasantly, none of those questions seem very germane or urgent. It is what it is, you guess.
Her hoofsteps echo down the tree-lined midnight streets as you make your way back to the palace, the two of you drawing curious glances from the odd couple or group of pony revellers who go by. You pass by a late-opening café where ponies sit out on the terrace sipping drinks and strains of jazz music drift out into the streets from the open windows. She seems content to walk close by your side in companionable silence, presumably wrapped up in her own thoughts.
Arriving back in your suite at the palace you find Twilight asleep on the sofa, a blanket draped over her. On the coffee table in front of her is an empty bottle of wine, two glasses – one of them half full – and a chess board with the game still in progress.
You pause a moment to take in the state of the pieces. They’re not the designs that you’re most familiar with, but once you realise that what look like knights are actually pawns, you realise it must be the same rules after all. The knights, in turn, seem to be stylised pegasi with lances, whilst the bishops are robed unicorns and the king and queen look to have been replaced, predictably, by two princesses.
You conclude that they’re in a complex deadlock: still anybody’s game. As for her opponent, you guess he must have taken his leave after tucking her in. You and Rarity share a smile at the adorable picture. She motions you down to one knee with a gentle hoof on your waist, and leans in to whisper in your ear. “Thank you for a delightful evening, darling. Goodnight.”
“And thank you. Goodnight, Rarity.”
She kisses you lightly on the lips and then makes for her room, hips swaying alluringly as always. She turns to give you a smile from the doorway before entering and closing the door behind her, leaving you to find your own bed and sink into a deep, contented slumber. You are woken briefly a few hours later by a crash of something in the living room and a fit of giggling which you take to mean that Pinkie has just got in, but you soon drop back to sleep and don’t wake again until mid-morning.
There is a faint tinkling of breakfast china and quiet female voices in conversation from the living room. You lie dozing, listening to the hum of their voices contentedly for some time without picking up any actual words, but soon the smell of fried eggs and mushrooms is making your stomach rumble so you quit the luxurious comfort of your bed to jump under the shower and make yourself presentable enough to join the ponies for breakfast.
You find Twilight Sparkle and Rarity on the balcony seated around a table laid with a linen cloth, silver cutlery and tea-things sparkling in the morning sun.
“Good morning, Anonymous!” Twilight calls out as you make your appearance.
“Morning,” you return cheerfully as Rarity turns around to give you a friendly smile.
“Good morning, Anonymous,” she says in cordially polite tones.
You take one of the two empty seats and Rarity magically lifts the teapot to pour you a cup.
“Rarity has been telling me about last night,” Twilight says, her tone bright but neutral.
“Oh, really?” you ask, your face a polite blank.
“Yes! She said you made quite an impression on some of Canterlot’s social elite.”
“Oh, well, I don’t know,” you say with a smile. “Maybe one or two of them.”
“At any rate, it sounds as if you two had a pleasant evening.”
“Yeah – well, I enjoyed myself.”
“Great! I don’t really have much of a head for that sort of thing myself, but I’m glad Rarity was able to show you a good time.”
You keep your voice breezy and resist the urge to give Rarity a look or charge your tone with innuendo: that would be distinctly un-classy. You can’t resist a puerile inner snicker, though.
“Yeah, she certainly did. How was your evening?”
“Oh, it was just lovely, thank you. We caught up over dinner and then came back here for a few games of chess. I finally won a game against Shining Armor! But he won the next one, and then I… might have drifted off a little bit before we finished the decider.”
“Oh well,” you smile. “Should be time to settle the grudge match before we leave Canterlot, right?”
“I hope so! He’s captain of the royal guard, so his duties do keep him busy. But he said something about inviting us all round for dinner with him and Cadence – er, Princess Cadence, that is – tomorrow, if we can manage it. I’d really like to go.”
“Of course we’ll go, darling,” Rarity puts in. “We could hardly turn down such a flattering invitation. Your brother is royalty, now, you know. By the way, Anonymous, help yourself to the toast and some mushrooms and scrambled eggs, if you like – there’s plenty to go around and these dishes do a marvellous job of keeping them hot.”
“Oh, thanks.” You start loading your plate. “But, hang on a moment. Your brother is married to a princess, Twilight?”
“Yes! Cadence, proper title Princess Cadenza mi’Amore. Foal-sitter extraordinaire.”
“Hmm. So if she’s a princess... she’s Celestia and Luna’s sister, too?”
“No, no. She’s… some sort of cousin, I think, lots of times removed. She calls them auntie, but her mother isn’t their sister either. The royal family tree is pretty convoluted, and there are big gaps where we don’t have the history for one reason or another.”
“…seriously? Why wouldn’t somepony have written that stuff down?”
“I know! Tell me about it,” Twilight says heatedly. “Ponies have been SO BAD in the past at keeping all kinds of history. Only a few scholars even bothered to try, and then their books ended up dusty and unread in the corner of a library somewhere while most ponies pass down myths and legends instead. You wouldn’t believe how hard it can be to work out what actually happened.”
“So how do you even keep track of who’s royalty? I mean, wouldn’t it be easy for anypony to fabricate a claim?”
“Not really,” Rarity puts in. “Real breeding always shines through, you know – and anyway, the Princesses would never allow an impostor. In Princess Cadence’s case it would be somewhat hard to dispute, since she’s a pure bred alicorn – there aren’t any of those outside of royalty, you know.”
“Ah. But there are some royals who aren’t alicorns?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Like Prince Blueblood,” Twilight chips in.
“Yes,” Rarity says in a suddenly very cold tone as Twilight blushes, apparently just realising that she put her hoof in her mouth. “Like… him.”
“So Princess Celestia and Princess Luna are the only ones of their generation?”
“That’s right,” Twilight nods.
“What about their direct descendants? Any of their children about?”
“I don’t know of any,” Twilight says pensively.
“Nor I,” Rarity adds.
“Any records of any?”
“…no.”
“Hmm.”
You rub a hand on your stubbly chin, considering that. Something to ask one of the Princesses about if you get the chance, maybe – although you wonder if enquiring into mysteries like that is really a smart manoeuvre in your position. Of course you’re going to do it anyway, asking you not to enquire into mysteries is like asking a dog not to lick its own balls. Always nice to be aware of when you’re doing something stupid, though. Any idiot can do stupid stuff without realising it.
A few minutes later and you’re replete, sipping your second cup of tea in the sunshine while the conversation has turned to plans for the day – some sightseeing seems to be in order, and Twilight and Rarity are brainstorming about the various locales they need to take you on your tour of Canterlot.
Pinkie Pie appears in a flash of bouncy pink poofiness, rapidly collecting all the remaining food onto her plate in a big pile even as she is greeting you all. “Good morning!” she sings out. “Did everypony have a good night? I had the BEST night! Vinyl’s set was -amazing-, and there were so many cool ponies there, I made like a MILLION new friends, and everypony kept handing me jell-o shots, and you KNOW how I feel about jell-o, and Vinyl had some candy that made everything go, like, WHOOOOOOSH and hehehehe it was so much fun!”
The thought of Pinkie on stimulants causes a momentary shiver of terror to run down your spine.
“Sorry about waking you up Twi,” she goes on. “I thought you’d be in bed so the couch would be free for jumping on, but it turns out it wasn’t so I jumped on you instead. My bad!”
“That’s okay,” Twilight says, smiling weakly. “At least you woke me up so I could get to bed instead of sleeping on the couch all night, I'd probably be all stiff this morning if that had happened. Of course, I'm kind of stiff anyway from when you jumped on me...”
“So anyway!” Pinkie says through a mouth full of toast and mushrooms, “Vinyl can DJ for a party at the palace tonight, isn’t that great? And she’s going to bring Octavia, too, they’ve been working on some kind of collaboration and it sounds suuuper amazing. I’ve already asked a royal guard to ask Princess Celestia to send a note to Spike so he can let Rainbow know. Oh, and like a hundred ponies or something said they’d come and bring everyone they know. You’re going to make so many new pony friends, Anon!”
“Sounds like it’s going to be quite something,” you say cheerfully, casting glances at Twilight and Rarity in the hopes of getting some clue on what to expect.
“Well, that sounds excellent,” Twilight says. “I’ve been studying so hard recently, and then this special mission from the Princess - it’ll be great to unwind and let my mane down, although it’s really too bad that Fluttershy and Applejack won’t be there.”
“Yes, it sounds lovely, Pinkie darling,” Rarity smiles. “I’m sure Anonymous will appreciate the chance to see the livelier side of Canterlot’s nightlife, too.”
From what you’ve see of her so far the idea of a Pinkie-planned event had filled you with a certain amount of trepidation, giving you unpleasant flashbacks to Xaositect raves (concerning which: NEVER AGAIN), but the other ponies’ responses help to put you at ease. Maybe she really is capable of forethought and impulse control, if only when it comes to planning parties. The evening’s prospects are looking up.
As you are all finishing your final cups of tea and making to get ready to go out, Rarity’s eyes suddenly go wide with a terrible realisation. “Wait, wait, wait,” she exclaims in mounting horror. “We’re having a big party TONIGHT? But we none of us packed properly for this impromptu stay in Canterlot. I don’t know about you girls, but I only had my one emergency party dress with me. I have nothing – simply NOTHING – to wear! And Anonymous has only the one outfit which he wore last night. Ugh. What about you two? Be honest with me now, don’t hold back, let me know the full gravity of the situation.”
“Oh! Well I’ll be fine,” Twilight says meekly. “I brought that lovely dress you made me for my birthday, Rarity.”
“Oh nononono, Twilight, darling, that won’t do at all, not at all I say. That design was all the rage in Canterlot for a season, but by now a tacky purveyor of shoddy knock-offs is hawking those dresses to the unwashed masses on every street corner. You’re my friend, Twilight, and that makes you a shining champion in the very utmost vanguard of fashion’s progress – MERELY by association. I’ll be cold in my grave before I let you turn up to a major Canterlot social event in last season’s fashions.”
Rarity has been leaning steadily over the table throughout this speech, a steely and purposeful gaze fixed on Twilight, halting her advance only when their muzzles are nearly touching as she finishes her speech in a fierce stage whisper.
Twilight blinks and gives a sheepish smile. “Err… okay.”
Rarity relaxes, satisfied, and sits back down. “And you, Pinkie? What are you planning to wear?”
“...I thought I might put a ribbon in my hair. Ribbons are nice!”
Rarity presses her hoof to her forehead with a low groan of something close to despair, her voice sounding slightly unhinged when she speaks again. “Okay. Okay. Good. Marvellous. I’ve taken stock of the situation and evaluated the dimensions of the problem. Wonderful. That’s always the first step in reaching a solution!”
“…Rarity,” Twilight says gently. “You can’t possibly expect to design and make three new dresses AND an outfit for Anonymous – which won’t even be CLOSE to anything you’ve designed before, and will probably entail a whole new set of radical challenges – between now and this evening.”
“What are you saying?” Rarity asks, fixing Twilight with a desperate look.
The purple unicorn nearly withers beneath the intensity of that stare, but she rallies and manages to answer. “Maybe we should consider… going shopping?”
“Hmph,” Rarity exhales with a haughty toss of her mane, her air of tragic gravitas only deepening. “And model somepony else’s fashions in front of all of Canterlot? I should certainly think not.”
It’s interesting that she can go into such dramatic accesses of emotion about this whilst having remained cool as a particularly chilly cucumber all morning about what happened between the two of you last night. You honestly aren’t sure if she’s an incredible actor, or a crazy bitch, or both, or something in between; the only thing you’re sure of is that she’s pretty mesmerising even when she’s being a ridiculous drama queen.
Twilight squirms uncomfortably for a moment before suddenly perking up. “Wait! I know. We can just send another message to Spike through Princess Celestia – I mean, if she doesn’t mind too much – and have him ask Rainbow to bring some dresses from your boutique.”
Rarity brightens immediately. “Oh yes! Darling, what an absolute stroke of genius. Of course I’ll still need to make some tweaks, and of course I’ll still need to work from scratch on Anonymous’s garb – but it’ll give me such a leg up, so to speak, on the whole endeavour.”
“So you’re just gonna work all day while we’re showing Anon around Canterlot and having all kinds of fun?” Pinkie asks sadly.
“Well, I’m afraid it looks that way,” Rarity says with a dignified expression. “Sacrifices must be made to one’s art, you know, if one aspires to be an artiste…”
Pinkie pouts. "But… but… FUN.”
Rarity just gives an indulgent smile. “Well, darling, it’s not all bad you know. I do love my work, after all. I shall be having some fun of my own, finding my hooves in a whole new fashion paradigm.”
She looks you up and down. “It should be fascinating to see what I can do with your body shape, Anonymous darling. You won’t object to me taking a few measurements before you leave?”
“Well of course not. And I certainly am grateful to you for doing this.”
She waves a dismissive hoof. “Oh, but it’s absolutely my pleasure. The publicity alone will be more than compensation enough.”
The plan to get a message to Rainbow Dash is quickly put in motion through a footman (footcolt? hoofcolt? whatever). Meanwhile, Rarity bustles you off to her room to take measurements.
It’s a little odd being alone with her now; or perhaps it was odd being with her with other ponies around, and it’s only now that the oddness has fallen away that you notice it. Her room smells faintly of her – her perfume, her shampoo, her own scent. And then there’s her nearness as she magically manipulates her tape measure around your frame and leans in to take readings from it, having donned a pair of rather fetching red-framed spectacles. Images and impressions from last night keep flitting unbidden through your mind, and you have to concentrate a little to keep your breathing normal and stay relaxed.
If she’s having any of the same difficulty, she’s doing at least as good a job as you are at hiding it. She’s all business, keeping up a stream of professional patter about her ideas for your outfit which you only half listen to, throwing in the occasional response where it seems appropriate or necessary.
Having greedily drunk in all the fashions on display in her brief trip to Sigil, Rarity already seems to have a decent handle on the basics of designing clothing for humanoids and some of the current styles; you’re happy to let her do her thing without too much input from you. Instead your thoughts wander, speculating on her state of mind. It’s difficult to get a read on her – is she feeling regretful or ashamed of herself, or is she just scrupulously cautious about keeping her friends in the dark?
You can’t see it as entirely coincidental that she just happens to have found some urgent work to throw herself into that will keep her from spending the day with you as planned. Things did, after all, proceed extremely fast last night from a pleasantly flirty first not-quite-date to a filthy sweat-soaked threesome. Within a couple of hours. Was Rarity the type to do something like that and then freak out about it after the fact?
…Well, maybe. Piking women. That is to say – mares. Females. Whatever.
You wonder about saying something to force the issue, but it doesn’t seem worthwhile. Better to let her have some distance for now if that’s what she wants, rather than be seen as demanding or needy. You can be just as cool as she can. Juuuuust as co-
Your breath catches momentarily as she presses her tape measure against your inner thigh and runs it down your inseam.
Meanwhile she’s breezily chatting about her observations of the different cuts of human trousers and which one she feels is most appropriate for an event like Pinkie’s party tonight, casual but also high-profile and glamorous. It’s something of a relief when she’s finished with you and sent you packing.
“Go on now,” she says lightly, “don’t keep Twilight and Pinkie waiting! Have a nice time, just be sure to be back in good time to try your new clothes on before the party so I can make any adjustments. Toodle-oo!”
You head out into the busy streets of Canterlot, with Twilight and Pinkie doing an interesting double duty as tour guides.
“There’s a statue of a pony in a silly hat!” Pinkie begins.
“…that’s Star Swirl the Bearded,” Twilight interjects, “and his hat was widely considered to look very distinguished, at the time.”
“Ehehehe… yeah, so, that’s Swirly the Breaded, he was a famous ice-cream pony who pioneered soft-scoop to the delight of all the ponies in Equestria.”
“…that’s not right at all-"
“Ponies would come from miles around to taste his frozen treats, and he’d put all kinds of tasty goodies on top like mini-marshmallows and fudge sauce and banana slices and chopped nuts and caramel and little candy balls.”
“Pinkie…”
“BUT! One day his bold experimentation in ice cream toppings went TOO FAR. Of all things, he piled… -breadcrumbs- on all the ice creams he served that day.”
She looks down at her hooves for a moment, shaking her head mournfully. Twilight is either too horrified to interrupt, or else she wants to see where this goes.
“The ponies of Equestria were furious. They’d all come to expect the very tastiest of tasty ice cream treats from Swirly, so when he offered them this total DISASTER of an ice cream invention they rose up as one to take their horrible revenge. It was poetic justice. They covered poor Swirly from breadcrumbs in head to toe, and from that day on he was known to everypony as Swirly the Breaded.”
You burst into guffaws, Twilight giggling along with you after a moment. Pinkie just shakes her head disapprovingly at you both. “Guys, this is serious. I can’t believe you would be so disrespectful of a great figure from Equestria’s history.”
Twilight tells you the actual history of Star Swirl the Bearded, and at some point Pinkie takes her leave saying that she has to go see somepony about lights for this evening, but she’ll catch you up soon.
To hear Twilight tell it, Star Swirl was one of the few true scholars of ponykind, a great arcanist, sage and natural philosopher who advanced ponies’ understandings of their world more than whole generations had done before or since. He’d also had his theories about what lay beyond the world that the ponies inhabited, hypothesising a cosmology that bore some striking similarities to the true extent of the planes.
“If only he hadn’t disappeared so suddenly before finishing his life’s work, who knows what knowledge he could have passed on to future generations of ponies…” Twilight finishes mournfully.
You think about the implications of that for a moment, but decide against pursuing it further with Twilight, at least right now.
“Fair to say he’s a personal hero of yours, then?” you ask conversationally instead.
“Oh, yes! He’s like a second mentor to me, really, even if he’s been dead for centuries. I just hope I can prove myself worthy to take up his legacy after all this time. But of course, my studies under the princess come first,” she finishes with a slight blush as if embarrassed to have gotten carried away and forgotten, even for a moment, her primary duty and calling.
“Well, it sounds like an ambition worthy of the Bearer of the Element of Magic,” you say with a casual smile that widens as Twilight’s blush deepens.
“Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to brag or anything…”
You keep your face blank as you scent weakness and hone in. “Not at all. You might be the humblest pony I’ve met. Oh, and pleasant and well-spoken and pretty on top of all that. The whole package.”
She starts to squirm and stutter a little, her face deep crimson. You let her hang for a few moments before finally bursting into laughter.
“Heh… sorry...”
She glares at you as her blush slowly fades; you just grin back.
Finally she ‘hmphs’ and looks away with an exhalation that sounds suspiciously like a laugh in spite of herself.
“Tell me about that building with the big spire over there,” you say after a moment, still smiling.
“Oh! That’s the Springsong Tower, built around twelve hundred years ago in honour of the pegasi of the Springsong flight, formed in response to a crisis on Equestria’s eastern border when…”
Twilight’s embarrassment forgotten, the tour recommences as she recounts all the history, lore and mythology she knows in connection with the many sights you pass by.By a meandering path through the streets you come eventually to a grand building with constant pony traffic up and down the steps that lead up to the majestic portico framing the entranceway. Rarity and Twilight had agreed on Canterlot’s biggest art gallery as your first destination (Rarity stressing the cultural and aesthetic value, Twilight focusing more on the historical subjects of many of the paintings).
You guess this must be it, and Twilight soon confirms your guess as you mount the steps together. Pinkie rejoins you shortly after you enter and is soon spicing up the experience by explaining the paintings to you in her inimitable fashion.
“…and THIS one shows a classic example of the great unicorn ritual contest of eyebrow wrestling, where two powerful unicorns attempt to project all their magical power and force of will at each other through their fearsomely big and bushy eyebrows without the use of their horns. Some particularly closely-fought battles have been known to go on for days at a time…”
Sadly she has to dash off again before long to run off on another errand for the evening’s plans, something about refreshments this time. The rest of the day proceeds in a similar vein with a grand tour of Canterlot’s highlights, discussing pony culture and history with Twilight whilst Pinkie drops in and out, running all over town on her planning missions but still managing to hold up her end of the tourguide duties.
The three of you break for a pleasant lunch at a bistro on the boulevard in the mid afternoon. It’s mostly salad-based, but you have to admit that these ponies know how to make a pretty impressive salad. Yours comes with a bunch of different colourful leaves – almost all of which seem thankfully edible – as well as alfalfa, chopped walnuts, toasted croutons, some kind of pale, mild, slightly tangy cheese and a deliciously sharp and sweet dressing.
There are also some daisies that you have to pick out, but overall it’s a very tolerable meal, and the company is good too. Twilight and Pinkie are utterly different enough that you can’t quite understand how they ever got to be such good friends – you can’t help thinking of them in terms of Factions, pegging Twilight as a natural Guvner and Pinkie as a Chaosman – but they’re a fun duo to be around, each one providing a good antidote when the other’s foibles get too much. The interplay between them is entertaining as well, with Pinkie winding Twilight up constantly but never (well, at least not today) crossing the line into being an actual annoyance.
With lunch over you resume your leisurely sightseeing tour as Pinkie dashes off to procure, in her own words, ‘more balloons than anypony has ever seen in one place before EVER.’
The rest of the afternoon passes in much the same enjoyable fashion, and you complete your tour much better-informed about pony society and history than before – although Twilight wasn’t kidding, there really are a whole lot of tremendous gaps in her knowledge of Equestria’s past, and you doubt anypony except the two ruling princesses knows more about it than she does.
You’ve also promised that you’ll return the favour with interest by giving her information on your own people and the planes at large once you’re settled back in Ponyville. That promises to be a much larger undertaking than today’s crash course on ponydom, but you’re okay with the idea. It should be quite enjoyable to discuss cosmic truths with Twilight, and maybe she’ll have an interesting perspective on some things.
You eventually wend your way back towards the palace with Twilight and Pinkie in the late afternoon, ready to catch up with Rarity and see how her day’s work has gone. You’d succeeded in putting her out of your mind for most of the day, but now with your return at hand you feel a twist in your guts.
…just what was that? Are you some hapless cuntstruck kid, or what, to have that kind of physical response to the mere prospect of seeing her? You push it down, steeling yourself. You’re tougher than that; your skin is thicker than that.
The fluttering in your stomach is going nowhere, and you give an inward sigh. This might not be so easy.
You make your way through the palace grounds back to your rooms with Twilight trotting close behind as Pinkie quizzes you extensively on human parties, nodding along and chiming in enthusiastically as she finds points of resemblance, of which there are plenty.
As you reach the hallway to your suite she’s stunned into momentary silence by the revelation that you don’t know what a ‘speaker’ is, let alone a ‘turntable’, ‘DJ’, ‘bass drop’, ‘wub’, or any of the other dozen increasingly outlandish terms she fires off. A huge grin begins to spread across her face. “…just wait… you’ll see…”
You shoot a worried glance at her; the gleeful, scheming expression she’s wearing does less than nothing to reassure you.
You’d quite like to at least make the attempt to glean some details on what delights or horrors await you, but you find yourself already at the door to your suite with the sound of voices coming from within.
“I’m -just- saying,” you catch through the closed door, “we need to keep an eye out. Everypony’s so trusting. What do we even know about him?”
There’s a noncommittal murmur in reply. You’d sure like to park your ears for more of this, but Pinkie and Twilight are soon going to be wondering why you’re just standing around in the hallway. You open the door to a vision of organised chaos: Rarity has turned the living room into her workshop, spreading out over every available surface with fabric, thread, and dressmaker’s tools.
The lady of the domain stands bespectacled in the midst of it all, several different pieces of fabric levitating around her along with scissors, needle and thread as she works in total absorption. Rainbow Dash hovers upside-down several feet above the floor nearby, her blue wings keeping her aloft with lazy flaps.
“Oh, hey you guys,” she greets the three of you, slowly rolling in mid-air until she’s right way up again. “Sure is good to see you, Rarity’s not exactly the most fun to hang out with when she’s working.”
“…yes, I DO apologise again for my less than effervescent conversation, Rainbow,” Rarity says with a hint of reproach. “But I have been RATHER busy.”
She turns briefly to look over her glasses at you, Pinkie and Twilight, offering a smile and a bright “hell-o~!” before turning back to continue her work as she goes on. “I trust you three had a lovely day? I’m just putting the finishing touches to our dresses. Rainbow was kind enough to bring me some very serviceable models to work with, but, as I expected, they were in need of some small adjustments. Anonymous, your ensemble is laid out for you in your room, would you be a darling and try it on for me?”
“That would be my pleasure,” you say with a courteous bow of your head which probably goes unnoticed as Rarity focuses intently on some detail work.
“Oh, and leave your boots please,” she calls over her shoulder. “They’ll need an embellishment or two to go properly with the new outfit.”
You pull your boots off. Rarity doesn’t look round, but as soon as they’re free of your feet a blue magical field envelopes them and they begin floating off towards her even as she continues to focus closely on the fine embroidery of a hem. You stand gazing for a moment, a little in awe, struck by her perfect poise and natural elegance in the midst of this frantic multitasking. Rarity at work is a force of nature that you could just stand and watch for hours quite happily.
Wait, no. No, no, you don’t need to be thinking like that. Especially not around Rainbow Dash. She already thinks you’re a rustler; you really don’t need her tumbling to what happened with Rarity.
You make for your bedroom to try on your outfit, giving your head a brisk shake in hopes of clearing it as you go. Regardless of how much success you might have, it’s a temporary palliative at best – you’re soon filled with stunned admiration for Rarity all over again when you see the lavish outfit she has laid out on your bed.
The jacket is very fine wool, a deep midnight blue slashed with bold detailing in gold thread forming bars and stripes that accentuate the garment’s clean, elegant lines. Dozens of small rubies are stitched into the sleeves and slightly padded shoulders and there they gleam, sanguine, their arrangement artfully designed to make them look carelessly scattered. The shirt is a lacy cream affair embellished by a deep scarlet cravat and a waistcoat that matches the jacket. The trousers are slim-fitting, simple but beautifully cut in the same material as the jacket and waistcoat, the belt a rich tan colour studded with more rubies and finished with a stylish golden clasp in the shape of a serpent devouring its own tail.
The overall effect – even when the outfit is lying inert there on your bed, not even being modelled and viewed as intended – is nothing short of breath-taking. It’s difficult to conceive of the fact that she made this elaborate costume from scratch in the hours since you last saw her. It’s nothing like what you normally wear, but the artistry of it is undeniable and compelling. What’s more, although it’s far more dandyish than anything you would ever have picked out for yourself, as you look at it you realise that in fact, in some way, this is -you-. Not a side of yourself that you normally express – certainly not through fashion – but undeniably you, as if Rarity has presented you with a mirror that shows you not your mere physical form but something deeper and subtler than that.
You undress and begin to try it on, immediately noticing the quality of the fabric as you touch it. It’s impressive, but unsurprising at this point, that everything fits near-perfectly despite Rarity’s inexperience with tailoring for humanoid dimensions. The finished effect in the mirror is just as good as you expected, although… it lacks something.
Oh right, your boots – Rarity’s done something to them. Your return to the lounge is greeted with an excited squeal from Pinkie and a gasp from Twilight. Even Dash looks pretty impressed.
“Geez, Rarity, he looks just like the twerps we saw flouncing around the Lady’s Ward in Sigil. How’d you figure out how to make fancy human clothes so quick?”
“Hmph. Excuse me, Rainbow, he looks not at all like a 'twerp'… although I do need to let the jacket out just a smidgen at the shoulders and in at the waist, the cravat is NOT tied just so, and of course the whole effect is positively ruined without the boots. Here, Anonymous, darling, give me your jacket and try these on.”
She floats your boots back over to you and you make the swap. The boots have somehow been dyed from their previous dark brown to the same tan colour as your new belt, softened and gained turn down collars studded with rubies to match the rest of the outfit. You already sort of miss your sturdy old boots – you’ve been through a lot with them. But you can’t deny that these will match tonight’s outfit better, and if Rarity can really make such major alterations in mere minutes then you suppose it should be a simple matter to get her to put them back to normal at some point. Well, assuming you can come up with a sufficiently convincing aesthetic rationale for it.
Although now that you think about it, she looks considerably more frazzled now than she did ten minutes ago; it occurs to you that the quick turnaround on the boots might have cost her a non-negligible amount of magical power.
Soon you have the boots on and Rarity has returned the jacket to you after a couple of minutes of painstaking but incredibly rapid work redoing various bits of stitching.
“There, try that.”
You’d thought the jacket fit fine before, but you feel the difference immediately. It might have been ‘fine’ before, but now it’s right. Rarity gives a satisfied nod.
“That will do. Once you’re properly brushed up I do believe you’ll look -quite- acceptable. So that’s the major task out of the way, now I can focus on the final touches in getting these dresses up to scratch…”
You get your chance, now, to sit and watch Rarity at work as she consults with the other ponies, making the final tweaks to their outfits and sending them off one by one to try them on and model them for her. Each dress is unique, perfectly suited to its wearer and touched with what you’re coming to recognise as Rarity’s trademark flair and panache. You see what she meant, now, about making the world a lovelier place; her creations are not only beautiful in themselves, but they bring out the beauty of their wearers.
Rarity sends each pony back multiple times to take their dress off again and return it to her for further adjustments, much to the chagrin of Rainbow Dash in particular. The whole process is also complicated somewhat by Pinkie Pie dashing constantly in and out, splitting her time between overseeing the preparations in the grand ball room and cooperating with Rarity’s process. Still, the dresses – including her own – are finished to her satisfaction within an hour.
“Well then, I call that a good day’s work,” she says proudly as she surveys the finished products, sagging a little as fatigue catches up with her.
A few strands of her mane are even out of place – you take that as a sign of dire exertion on her part.
“I don’t know about everypony else, but what I need now is some me time. I have hopes that a good long soak in a hot bath with some scented candles may yet restore me to an appropriate level of fabulousness in time for the party. And ifsome kind fellow was to hunt me up a glass of something bubbly… and maybe a few canapés, such as perhaps some blinis and caviar… and bring them to my suite – for instance, as a token of his gratitude for the handsome finery he’s wearing – then that might not be entirely inappropriate or unwelcome.”
She bats her eyelashes at you, and you put all your focus into maintaining a blasé expression as you smile back. “I’m sure somebody can manage that.”
Everypony disperses to get cleaned up and ready for the party, and you quickly find a pagecolt to send down to the kitchens with Rarity’s request and another to send out to the gardens for a bouquet of roses. You send them on their ways with large tips and a grave sense of urgency, and once you’re satisfied that they’ve taken off about their tasks at an appropriately nippy speed you go to take a quick shower of your own.
By the time you emerge clean and damp-haired in your new outfit, having taken a few minutes to just admire it in the mirror, you find a huge bundle of freshly-cut red and white roses waiting on the table in the living room along with a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and a silver tray on which stand two glasses and a selection of fancy-looking canapés including the requested blinis and caviar.
You pick up the tray and the bucket with the bottle in it, hanging the bucket over your arm so as to leave one hand free as you give a knock on Rarity’s bedroom door. There’s no answer – which makes sense, you suppose, if she’s in the bath. After a moment you try the door and find it unlocked. There’s a soft splashing sound coming from the en-suite bathroom, accompanied by an alluring aroma of cinnamon and orange.
The door is ajar. You make your way across the soft carpet and knock.
“Yeeeees?” Rarity’s voice croons from within. “Could that possibly be room service?”
“Something like that,” you reply wryly. “Can I come in?”
“You can, but you had better be bringing suitable offerings.”
You push the door open and enter the steamy, orange-scented bathroom, where Rarity reclines luxuriously in the bathtub amidst mounds of frothy bubbles, the far rim lined with a thick row of lit candles.
“The lady’s champagne and canapés…”
“Ahhh, darling, how did you know”, Rarity purrs. “Would you be so marvellously kind as to pour me a glass?”
You set the tray down first on the (thankfully quite large) shelf at the foot of the bathtub, and then open the champagne with a muted pop and a wisp of vapour that is quickly swallowed up by the room’s steam.
You pour Rarity a glass, and she leans forward to take it from you with a smile. You don’t quite know how to read that smile.
“A blini, m’lady?” you ask as you offer the tray.
“Why yes, I don’t mind if I do.”
She takes one daintily and pops it into her mouth, rolling her eyes up in bliss.
“Absolute heaven. Thank you, darling.”
“It’s the least I could do. There’s one more thing, hang on, I’ll be right back.”
You make your way back to the lounge and grab the bouquet of roses from the table, turn round and are returning to Rarity’s room when the door next to it – the door to Pinkie’s room – opens and out steps Rainbow Dash, her mane up in a towel.
“Hey,” you greet her cursorily, not slowing down.
“He- wait a minute.”
Like a flash she’s in front of Rarity’s door, looking pointedly at the flowers in your hand. “What in the hay is all this?”
“A gesture of thanks, of course,” you say without missing a beat.
She’s silent for a moment, peering suspiciously between you and the flowers. "...thanks.”
“Yeah. For my new outfit.”
“You’re bringing her flowers… in the bath… to say thanks.”
“Yup. She did ask me to bring her some other things, y’know, so this is just by way of an additional thank you from me.”
“Yeeeaaah…”
She’s not moving.
“Anyway, didn’t you say it was fine if I tried it on with Rarity? Something about her being able to look after herself?”
…that might not have been the most politick tack to take, but you’re getting rather tired of the cyan pegasus’s cockblocking.
“Well I THOUGHT she could.”
She peers over her shoulder for a moment to where Rarity’s bathroom door stands ajar before looking back at you, her eyes weighing you up.
“Give me a brea-”
Your plea is interrupted by a plaintive voice from Rarity’s bathroom. “Dashie! Oh Daaaaashie! Is that you I hear? Are you harassing my waiter? Do stop making such a dreadful nuisance of yourself, darling.”
“Oh, whatever.”
Rainbow steps aside, but her suspicious gaze never leaves you for a moment as you go past her and on to the bathroom again, pointedly closing the door behind you.
“Waiter, indeed,” you say with a wry smile, holding the flowers behind your back.
Rarity just blinks innocently at you. She shifts minutely under the water with a liquid sound that makes you imagine her supple, shapely curves rearranging themselves languidly beneath the foamy surface.
“…here.”
You proffer the bouquet.
“For your hard work today on my outfit. Thanks again. I love it.”
Rarity beams.
“Oh, how lovely,” she gushes. “Thank you, darling. Just set them down over there for me? I’ll put them in a vase once I’m out of the bath.”
You do as requested, and turn back to Rarity, your gaze straying to the second, empty, glass beside the champagne bottle. You see her gaze follow yours. Her smile doesn’t change.
“Really, thank you,” she repeats after a moment. “For the refreshments, as well, it was sweet of you.”
You nod. Another moment passes.
Fuck.
“…no problem. I’ll see you later then.”
You leave and stalk back to your room, ignoring the smug look Rainbow gives you from the couch and keeping your jacket arranged so as to shield the more visible signs of your frustration from her view.