Rarity waved goodbye to him from the front door of her shop. Sir Fancypants did look so dashing in that suit, but she could make him a better one. She did like that hat though, it completed his ensemble and his rough beginnings. The bowler hat was a symbol of laborers, made of stiff materials to shield the head. It was a rather fashionable helmet, and he wore it well. As she shut the door, a sudden wave of weakness almost overcame the mare. Her adrenaline trickled away, and she felt as though she had just pulled an all-nighter to finish an order. It had been quite the afternoon.
"I... I really must thank Princess Celestia, next chance I get." The mare murmured. Her mind reeled at the scope of the old stallion's life, to the point that she almost forgot why he had come in the first place. "Sending him all this way just for me..." She leaned against the door. "For me... and for Spike, too." A smile crossed her muzzle as that old fantasy of dancing with a prince passed before her eyes. This time the prince was not an egotistical unicorn, but a lovestruck dragon in a fine suit and hat.
Was that really what she wanted? To love a dragon, to hold him, treasure him, all the while knowing that as she grew older and weaker he would still be fresh and strong? Could she ever hope to be a worthy partner for such a creature? Rarity hung her head and sighed. Sir Fancypants had been very clear, love was not a business contract. All she could offer was her whole heart. It would be his decision to love her or not, to offer his whole heart as well.
The seamstress sat down and leaned back against the door. Yes, she did care for that little dragon. Yes, they could have a future together. No, she did not know for sure if she loved him. Love was not fashioned in an afternoon, it took time to be knit together. If one rushed such a dress, it would only hurt the final product. Spike still had a little bit of growing up to do... and so did she. Rarity opened her eyes, and saw Opal sitting in front of her.
"What do you think, dear?" The seamstress asked curiously. "This has been a... a wild afternoon... I wonder, perhaps this is all just a dream?" Her eyelids did feel very heavy, and aside from the teaset on the table, there was no evidence that anyone had come to visit her boutique. A pang of fear shot through her, what if she dozed off and awoke to find that all this had been but a figment of her overworked mind? She felt the buzz of the tea fading, and though she struggled to stay awake, found her eyelids fluttering shut...
"Raawr!" The little persian tickled her owner's nose with her tail. Rarity sneezed in a very unladylike fashion, but the cobwebs of fatigue blew away from her mind. She reached down and gratefully cuddled the little kitty.
"No, no time to sleep. I can't sleep, not while there's work to be done." The seamstress pulled herself to her hooves and gathered the teaset onto the tray. She needed to grow her business, follow her dream, and become a renown designer. That was the call of her heart, and it was also the wise choice. Then, once both of them were mature enough to decide, she would see if that little dragon still loved her. Opal followed her owner into the kitchen on silent paws.
Rarity turned on the sink and began to rinse the teacups. If she ran out now and kissed Spike, told him he was her true love, that would begin a commitment that could only hurt them. His duty was to Twilight, without him the poor girl would probably blow up the town. The designer's duty was to her career, to her talents. As she rinsed the teapot, she mourned that love did not "conquer all". It certainly helped, but love on its own did not pay the bills. Love on its own did not keep Equestria safe. A smile quirked across her face as she remembered the Royal Wedding. It had not been love alone that threw the Changelings out of Canterlot, but the fusion of love and righteous anger. Her fur tingled at the thought of the pulsing magical aura that had washed out over the city. Love alone would not make a happy life for a fashionista and her Spikey-wikey, nor would she truly be happy if she gave up her fashion career for him. The mare put the teaset out to dry and walked upstairs.
Sir Fancypants truly was the best response Celestia could have sent, even better than a personal visit. Her heart beat quickly as she thought back over all she had learned, and came to a simple conclusion. The two of them may not yet be ready for love, but that did not mean there was no place for romance. How would the dragon keep that fire in his heart alive if his crush did not tend it?
Rarity settled down at her davenport desk and pulled out a quill. Knowing was half the battle, now it was time for the other half. Sir Fancypants had told her so many things, but one above all else stuck in her mind. There was nothing to fear from Spike, and he had a great destiny ahead of him if only he was strong enough to grasp it. She would be there for him, love him as he became that strong knight, and seek to be a mare worthy of his claw. The fashionista began to arc elegant letters across the page, and immediately began writing nothing with a great many words. Then she stopped, rent the paper in two with her magic, and threw it away. On a second piece, she began again with simple words and unadorned penmareship. As she wrote, she felt the fears beginning to fade, for as she put into her own words the things that Sir Fancypants had told her, she began to weigh their value. Opal found a comfortable perch and watched.
The cat's owner seemed to be drawing more than writing, circling little ideas and sketching lines between them, or underlining quotes from the old stallion. In fact, as she moved from page to page, the sketched words seemed to meld into the shapes of a dress pattern. An "estimated third quarter earnings" would be linked to a "Saturday jewel expedition", or an "upcoming concert" to an "ask Twilight if interested". The mare tore up several pages and threw them away, but soon Rarity smiled in satisfaction at her notes. She had digested much of what Sir Fancypants had told her regarding love, link "positive reinforcement" to "dragon maturity". This was no dream, this was her life. Underline "be ready, be the best, seize the moment." Finally, at the end of the last page, she wrote:
To live must be your joy, Rarity, and you must be strong on your own before you can be strong enough to love another.
She set the quill down and breathed out slowly. That was the message Celestia had sent, written in the seamstress' own words. The Princess of the Sun had cared enough to send somepony who would calm her far more than any letter ever could. Sir Fancypants had lived a full, rich life, and he had no regrets. He had told her a story of a mare he loved, but he had still honored her decision to love another; and a story of a mare who returned his advances with a pure heart. Rarity smiled, then penned the next thought.
If I must love, it will be without remorse.
Spike deserved somepony who truly cared for him, who found just as much solace in his company as he did in hers. Time would tell if that was true. Her horn glowed softly, and the sturdy lock on her safe spun back and forth. It opened with a muted click, revealing her most precious things. The unicorn reached out with her mind and grasped a beautiful necklace with her magic. It floated through the air and settled on the table next to her papers. Rarity bit her lip and ran a fetlock over the gemstone. It did seem a crime to let such beauty lie in a box of cold iron.
If she went to him now, it would indeed be in greed. She would be trying to claim him before either of them were ready, just in case he chanced upon another mare. He deserved more than that. An odd noise came downstairs, but she was too distracted to care. The cat's ears perked up, and she mewed suspiciously.
Rarity continued writing. She did not know with that quiet assurance if she truly loved him or not, but she would not play with his feelings like Opal with a ball of yarn. The dress was measured, the cloth cut, and she would treasure every moment as she pieced it together. Perhaps after the dress would come a beautiful gown, but if not, she would still have a well-made garment. Rarity brushed a tear from her cheek. That knowledge was worth the pain. Opal lept onto the table, and rubbed against her owner's neck.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say that you planned all this." The seamstress gave her cat a suspicious look.
"Mreeeow?" The white persian shook her head innocently, momentarily distracted from her original intent.
Rarity smiled. "Well... nevertheless, thank you, Opalescence."
The cat smiled. "Raawr." She was old enough to remember Celestia's words during the Great Crusade, her vision of a world where the great and noble races lived in harmony. Many of her kind had feared what horrors might be unleashed if that promise came true, for if the lesser races were united who knew what harm they could accomplish? Opal purred softly as her owner levitated a brush and gently ran it through her fur. Love like this was worth the risk. Love and pampering.
"I... if there's anything I can do to thank you..." The mare bit her lip nervously. Sir Fancypants had treated the cat as though she were an equal. Her mind drifted back to that time she had soaked her pet to deceive her friends. "I know I haven't always been the best-"
"Mrreow." The white persian looked up. Their eyes met, and Rarity felt a flash of insight. Opal was her pet by choice, this was the life she wanted to live. A life of luxury, yes, but not without hardships. If she sought nothing more than hedonism, there were many in Canterlot she could have chosen. Even now, she could slip aboard a train and turn up at Sir Fancypants' doorstep. Opal was here because this was her place, it was her home, and Rarity was her owner. She wished not to be treated as royalty, but simply as a dear companion.
"Love." The mare kissed her cat on the forehead. "Oh, my little Opal-wopal, I love you too."
"Mrreow..." The persian sighed, but did not object. That was her favorite brush after all, and it did feel so good... wait... what was that illness in the aether? It was as though a thousand souls cried out as one, and could not be silenced. She closed her eyes and stretched. Curious.
Rarity had no seventh sense to forewarn herself, and so continued to groom her pet until an unholy crash jarred both of them back into awareness. The cat dropped flat on the desk and hissed, while the seamstress turned her head toward the source of the noise. Already her mind was rationalizing it away as simply another unexpected visit from Rainbow Dash, and she continued to deny the reality until there was no other option but to accept it. A pink pony was bouncing atop her bed. She locked eyes with it and was about to commence a withering interrogation, but it spoke first.
"Fun?"
Rarity blinked. Suddenly, there were two of the pink things.
"Fun?"
"Fun!"
Three now. Three pink mares. Another crash.
"Fun, fun, fun!"
"No, no, no!" The unicorn cried out, her left eye twitching. "Not now, any time but now, please, no!" Quickly, she turned back to the neatly-arranged papers, but instead found a pink tail sprawled across her desk. "I... I... I'm not..." Around her, a storm of pink ponies whirled. Opalescence was yowling like an air raid siren. Her hard work was scatted all over the room, and a distinct crash from downstairs told her that something expensive had fallen. The mare had taken steps to Sweetie Belle-proof her treasured things, but such safeguards were no match for the pink hurricane. She found herself sprawled on the floor, and curled her legs close to her body. Something cold was in her fetlocks. The seamstress opened her eyes and saw it was that beautiful fire ruby, she had grabbed it on instinct as she was knocked away from the desk.
A sense of peace settled over her as she held the necklace tight. Rarity closed her eyes and remembered Sir Fancypants' book, opened to that dragon and the pegasus on his shoulder. Then she saw Spike falling, her hoof on his mouth.
While they were together, they were happy.
That was the missing element, the finishing touch, the perfect accessory. She had to be happy with him, to make the time they had together matter. Something else shattered behind her. Love was not roses and candlelit dinners, it was not soft kisses and champagne, it was finding joy in the company of the one you loved. If she had that with Spike, then she knew everything else could follow. All the measurements were complete, all the little worries put to one side. Rarity took a deep breath, clicked the necklace around her throat, and rolled to her hooves.
"Pinkie Pie-s!" She cleared her throat. "Get out of my bedroom!"
"Fun!" They chorused back.
The designer levitated a fallen dress form with a glow of her horn, grabbed the base of it with a hoof, and began to heard the energetic ponies toward the door. "Out, out, in the name of Celestia, out!"
Opal watched as the last of the pink mares bounced out of the room, chased by an angry unicorn. She stood up from the desk and smirked. The seamstress had learned more than she thought from Sir Fancypants. A shame that Rarity had not been able to finish brushing her coat, but she would overlook it this time. With an easy leap, she landed by the door and kicked it shut. Her owner was off for another adventure with her friends, and the cat known as Opal was overdue for a nap in a sunbeam. When she reached her wicker bed-basket and began to tug it over to the window, she noticed a stray page laying atop the downy pillow. The cat paused for a moment to read, for this page had been written not with a designer's hurried scrawl, but a lady's elegant script.
My dear Spike,
It is a dangerous world we live in. The seven of us have already been in peril of life and limb far more than I ever imagined as a little filly. I've outwitted ancient evils, revolted against crazy tyrants, and taken on Changelings in hoof to hoof combat. But if you're reading this, then... oh, it's not a pleasant thing to think about at all, but if I do not write this then I know that I will regret it later. If you are reading this, my scaly friend, then I hope I am only gravely wounded. I promise I will do everything in my power to return to you, but this letter is my insurance. I want you to know that I treasured our time together, and I hope you knew that before your claws ever touched this page. Any princess would be honored to have as faithful a suitor as you, but you were more than just a Casanova seeking my heart. You were my friend, my helper, there was no task too great or small that you would not do gladly. You did not knock on my door with a bouquet of roses and expect me to fall into your arms, you came to me with a sharp mind and a willing heart. I am sorry if I never was able to show you how much that meant to me.
One of my greatest regrets is not listening to you on the night of the Grand Galloping Gala. I know we all apologized, but I never truly had the courage to face the facts. You are a native of Canterlot, you even tried to tempt my interest on the ride to that grand city, but I was too much the fool to listen. I should have asked you if Prince Blueblood measured up to his carefully-crafted public image, but by the time I realized what he truly was you were gone with the wind. I suppose if you ever read this letter, I shall have made much the same mistake again. If... if I truly am gone, please do not cry. I was the fool, not you, my Spikey-wikey.
I am sorry if I never had the courage to put the feelings of my heart into words. I could make excuses, I am but a silly mare and not a brash dragoness, but that would change nothing. Instead, I hope that I can prove how I truly feel in this letter. Please, think back to the time we spent together. All the gemfinding expeditions, the hours you spent helping me in my shop, and the adventures. I knew that you loved me because of how you treated me. You were a joy to work with, and though I am certain that you could have torn me apart I always felt safe when you were near. I hope that you knew how I felt because of how I treated you. I trusted you with my newest designs, relied on you as a worthy coworker, and gave every reward from my heart. You were not a burden to me but a blessing, and I still remember how you helped my sister and I make peace. I hope that the memories of our time together will last far longer than I ever could hope to.
You are strong, Spike, but that is not what drew my interest. It is your humility, your servant's heart. By right, your kind owns this world, since you are of the Ancient Race. Yet you saw what becomes of a dragon who discards discipline, and you rejected that destiny. You would rather be a little helper than a monstrous tyrant. I hope Twilight understands how valuable you are. I certainly do, even if I... I will confess that I am a vain, self-centered mare. Sometimes I wonder how you could care for me. I am supposed to represent the Element of Generosity, yet all too often I think of myself long before anypony else. I suppose that if I was truly generous, I would be able to set aside my pride and honestly tell you how I feel. Then this letter would be superfluous.
There is another reason if I never told you plainly that I cared for you. As I write this, I know that you have a duty. You are Twilight's assistant, and I know that means more to you than anything else in the world. I hope that one day I will be able to ask you to step back from that post to become my partner, but I will not tear you away from where you belong. That would be an act of greed, not love. She needs you more than I do, but... I know what you saw in the Crystal Empire. I know your deepest fear, and I hope that even in that horrible moment you knew in the bottom of your heart that there would always be a special place for you in mine.
I hope you never read this, Spike. I hope that we are able to embrace the best of all possible futures together. But if you are reading this next to a still, cold mare, know that I regret only that I did not throw caution to the wind and live as though there were no tomorrow. I hope that the only reason I delayed was because I felt we were not yet ready to embrace that future, for if I waited only because of fear... then of all mares I am most to be pitied.
I hope that you knew this in your heart before you ever saw this page, but I will write it anyway. I must, for I cannot bear to imagine my short candle burning out only to have my last thought be that you might burn on forever, uncertain of my true feelings. My dear Spike, I love you.
-Rarity
Opal growled to clear the odd lump in her throat, and rubbed at her eyes with the back of a paw. There must be dust in the air, kicked up by those pink ponies. She tugged her bed-basket into the sunbeam, tossed the paper away, and curled up. Usually it was a simple thing to balance atop the wall of sleep, and then dive into the Dreamtime. She felt more at home there than in the waking world, where her body was constrained by the limits ponies in their hubris had labeled physics.
"Mreeeow..." Usually, it was a simple thing.
She always had a very good memory, that was one of her requirements in a physical avatar. Sometimes it was more trouble than it was worth. As she tried to sleep, she felt Fancypants' story tugging on her subconscious. Memories sprung unbidden into her mind's eye. She saw her former owner and that pegasus pirate, saw the pain in his eyes when he knew she would choose the Grand Marshal. The cat had helped him then, kept him on the right path, and kept his secrets. She knew what breed of false sovereign that old machine had been, what had really happened to those two pegasi, and why nopony had ever found the Stygian Dawn. That had been a good life, a full life. This was her time to rest.
And yet Opalescence could find no rest. The sunbeam was too hot, it felt as though Celestia was reminding her of the Astral Creed. All the great and noble races, joined together in order to form a more perfect union. Yes, the cat could sleep, but was there not work to be done? Was there not a small task she could perform now, a little thing for her but a noble deed nonetheless?
"Rrrgh." Opal growled. This was what her kind had been afraid of long ago. She did not believe that Celestia was an omnipresent being anymore than Sir Fancypants did, but it was curious how often those who followed Harmony in her name received solar aid in their darkest moments. Still... she loved her owner, and her owner loved her. With a sigh, Opal rose from her bed. She stretched out a kink in her back, and scooped the heartfelt letter atop the cushion with a flick of her tail. The room was in shambles, but she was a cat. A paper stuck in a cramped space was but a moment's worming for her, and a stray page atop a wardrobe was only a few leaps away. Once she had all the pages, she was only half done. Now came the part that only a wise cat with a keen mind could compute.
The white persian stroked her chin for a long moment, then began shifting the pages into three piles. "Mew... mew-mew... mew." Once some semblance of order had been restored, she closed one eye and began the painstaking process of sorting the papers into the exact sequence that Rarity had written them. Her memory called back the expressions on her owner's face as the quill had twisted in her magical aura. The little dragon really did mean much to the mare. Opal sighed as her little paws moved gracefully over the stacks, but sooner than she had expected only one pile remained. She allowed herself a smug grin. "Meeeow."
However, a cat did not wear as many avatars as she had without picking up a little caution. So she turned back to her little basket-bed, lifted the pillow, and stashed the stack underneath. The universe tended toward chaos, and she was only of a mind to sort this data once. Opal curled up atop her pillow and smiled. She would leave the papers out for Rarity to find in the morning. All in all, the good deed had been worth her time... except that her sunbeam had shifted, and now she had to move her bed-basket again!
Opalescence closed her eyes. The land of dreams called, her true home. Her owner had restored the Nightbringer, who had once more taken her rightful place in the slumber of ponykind. This pleased cats, for they had long held the duty of guarding the dreams of their owners. The buffalo fashioned crude dreamcatchers to protect their minds while they slept, but such crude firewalls could not compare to the savvy of a cat. However, while every cat weaved through dreams, the persian had found herself meddling in the physical affairs of her owners over the ages far more than most. Yes... yes, she supposed it was a kind of love. All the pampering in the world could not buy the smile that a kitten could bring to a child's face. She had led Sir Fancypants because of love. She watched over Rarity because of love. In the end, that was the true reward of a cat.
Opal felt herself slipping away, her consciousness ascending into a different form. She would safeguard these papers until the stars were right. Power overwhelming flooded her senses as she walked along the wall of sleep, then let her body go as she lept into a nap. An unusual harmonic thrummed across the golden fields, distorting the way light melted as it passed through a million shattered memories. A warning? No. A threat, whispered through swirling portals from another dimension by those who thought themselves gods. How adorable. Ah, time to message the Princess of the Night, tell her to break out the crowbar...
And so while her owner struggled with the problem of too many Pinkie Pies, the eldrich cat slept harmoniously, a pile of notes beneath her pillow. Contained within them were the beginnings of a mare's devious plan to fortify the heart of a dragon.