She was filthy, she knew. Intolerably unclean. Mud and grape juice had stained her hooves from a pristine white to a horrid shade of purple-brown.
Mud. Such awful, dirty stuff. It lay caked in her mane as well, gluing straw and hay between the normally shimmering violet tresses she spent so much time on. It was ground into her her coat, it was spattered across her face. She was certain at least one or two flecks had made their way into her left ear. And the smell! Simply dreadful, and made all the worse by all the sweat that matted her coat. With all the running and shoving and jumping she'd done today, she was certain she'd sweat more in these last few hours than she had in her entire life. She could even smell it on herself now. Ugh, how awful!
And the pain. She ached all over; from the bottom of her hooves right to the top of her horn. It seemed as though she'd pulled every muscle she had, and a few she'd never been aware of. Here and there, scrapes appeared on her sides, where obstacles had been sharper than her coat could deflect, marking her coat with small lines of red. She looked like some kind of uncivilized barbarian. It was beyond belief. A fashionista, a society pony of her caliber, covered in mud and battle scars? Ridiculous! Unthinkable! Unbearably itchy, as well. She fought the urge to scratch.
To distract herself, she daydreamed of the spa. In her mind's eye, she saw herself stepping past the elegant splash screen and into the hot tub, luxuriating in the imagined feeling the hot water soaking away all of this filth. Certainly it would sting at first, but the relaxing heat would overcome her, soothing her abused muscles. Then, after soaking every last grain of dirt from her coat and mane she would ask for the massage, perhaps vigorously given by pony hooves, or perhaps by hot stones. Or even both! Then of course came the beauty treatments – facial cream, hoof polishing, a coat scrub, shampoo, conditioner and a thorough brushing for the mane and the tail, a session in the mud bath-
Actually, she might skip the mud bath. She'd had quite enough of it for the time being.
But the rest, oh the rest! The care, the pampering, the promise that all this filth and soreness would soon disappear, washed away with vanilla-scented bubble bath and vanishing in a cloud of steam - all of it waited for her at the spa. She couldn't wait! She had to get there, had to scrub every inch of herself clean of this Celestia-forsaken mud pit and she had to leave immediately, lest this stains and mud become permanent!
Rarity opened her eyes to the light of sunset. Sweet Apple Acres was empty of all the other ponies who'd joined in the Sisterhooves Social, save the two who already lived there. A pang of guilt struck her. She should have at least helped clean up a little before falling asleep in this hammock. A glance around told her there was little left to do, and if Applejack had genuinely needed her help, she would have been too happy to interrupt Rarity's much-needed nap to watch her tromp through even more mud and muck.
Well, then, if nothing else was pressing for her, it was time she fulfilled that promise she'd made with herself before the whole affair had started. Time to move into the spa and only reappear when her old self was reborn. She began sit up (why had she chosen to sleep on her back? It always left her mane in an awful state), working hard to keep the hammock from toppling over –
And paused.
Sweetie Belle lay with her in the hammock, sprawled across her sister's belly, breathing softly. She was just as muddy as Rarity, her mane and tail just as hopelessly tangled, and almost certainly just as exhausted. It pained Rarity a little to see her hair in such a state; Sweetie worked hard to make herself as pretty as her big sister. But it was the look on her face that kept Rarity from moving. Even in her sleep, Sweetie Belle was smiling with pure joy and contentment. How had she never seen that expression before? It was adorable.
It was because she took her little sister for granted, Rarity realized, with no small amount of guilt. Before today, she only ever saw the filly as somepony who simply followed her around, getting in the way at the best of times and causing damage worth a sackful of bits and a tarnished reputation at worst. But when Sweetie Belle rejected her, Rarity's mind had begun spinning projections of the future. There would be no more late winter nights, staying up and sipping hot cocoa in front of the fire and giggling at schoolfilly secrets, like who had a crush on who. No more concerned little voice asking, "Why are you crying?" whenever circumstances drove her to melodramatic tears on her fainting couch. She just couldn't stand to see her big sister cry and came running every time she heard her sobbing.
But worst of all was the possibility that there would be no more Sweetie Belle telling her how beautiful her dresses were. Rarity poured her heart and soul into her creations and it showed; every one of her clients knew that. But they did not know how much time she spent agonizing over designs, researching past trends and cultural influences to get the piece just right. They would certainly never know how many times she simply wanted to give up completely and switch careers. On those days, at the very moment she was seriously considering ripping the dress to shreds, screaming all the while, Sweetie Belle would walk in and squeal with delight.
"It's so pretty, Rarity! Who's it for? Can I try it on? They're gonna love it! You always make the best dresses out of anypony in Equestria!"
It never failed to lift her spirits. Sweetie Belle believed in her completely and it was for her that Rarity found the strength to try again. The possibility, however remote, of losing her cheerleader made her realize just how much she loved Sweetie Belle and how awfully she'd been treating the filly. That realization had led her to asking for Applejack's help and, subsequently, to the two of them lying in the hammock, sore and filthy.
And it had been worth it. Their relationship had turned over a new leaf, had rekindled their love for each other. After all, only love could have made her swim through a pit of mud, dodge obstacles on a racetrack, gulp down an entire pie in a single, un-ladylike swallow, willingly enter a chicken coop and generally act like some kind of hooligan just to impress a filly. It had worked, as she'd hoped, and now here they lay, just happy to be with each other.
The spa could wait. Rarity ran a hoof over Sweetie Belle's face and the filly smiled in her sleep. She laid back in the hammock and watched the stars appear.