Chapter 2
“His what?!”
Young and fit as she was, Rarity feared she may passed then and there from a coronary event of epic proportions. Graves, on the other hand, paused for a few moments of chin-tapping thought.
“You mean ‘comrade’?”
“Right, that is word,” Araneida laughed aloud with an easy toss of her golden mane. “Pardon, Miss Rarity. My way with your language is not so good.”
“Oh, is that right?” Rarity smiled weakly as she brought the hand down from her thundering chest. “Well, that is… good to know.”
“We fought together during the Ratsputin Coup a few years back,” Graves explained as he pulled out a chair for the newly arrived lady. “Equestria sent a handful of agents to help the Homeland Liberation Front take back the country.”
“Not easy, that time,” Araneida remarked. “For many months, we fought, from the slopes of the Cartpathian Mountains to the streets of Stalliongrad itself. But good – comrades, yes? – make even hard times better.”
“It does at that,” Graves nodded firmly. “Neida here was one of the best spooks I’ve ever seen, not to mention knife fighters. She can fillet a fly in midair, and training with her taught me more than the Academy.”
“Syeri, you are too kind,” she laughed.
“ ‘Syeri’…?”
“ ‘Course, it’d have been nice if Neida showed some restraint,” the marshal remarked as he rounded back on his veteran compatriot. “Spent more time extracting you from self-made messes than anything else.”
“ ‘Neida’…?”
“Bah, you enjoyed it,” the blonde woman laughed as she gave the marshal a friendly punch. “And besides, I do for good reason. Remember Yakraine?”
“How could I forget?” Graves grimaced. “Blew up a camp distillery and brought a full Crimson battalion right to our doorstep.”
“Led by Barbas the Butcher himself,” Araneida nodded. “ебля ублюдок.”
“Я знаю, правильно? How long did it take to clear out? Three days?”
“Four. After, we found the Butcher’s personal supply, remember?”
“Not really. Don’t remember much of anything that night.”
“None do. But it worked, eh? We cut big part of Crimson force, open way to Stalliongrad, and pave way to final victory in best way possible. All in all, a good time, no?”
“Eh, maybe not good, but… not bad. Definitely not bad.”
Though Rarity smiled and reacted as her social instincts deemed appropriate, it was all she could do not to cry out in abject bewilderment. This… Araneida, whoever she was, clearly shared a history with the marshal, but the contents of such a history made as much sense as Twilight’s late night extrapolations on quantum foam and string theory.
Of course, Rarity also realized that it was certainly a rare opportunity for Graves to be able to commiserate in a positive fashion on past exploits – truly, she couldn’t remember a time when he’d spoken so animatedly about the past – which is why the young lady made no attempts to interrupt, redirect, or in any ways alter the flow of conversation. Letting the marshal have a good time was important, even if it did make her feel like the third wheel on a well-balanced bike.
“Anyway, you still haven’t told me what you’re doing here,” Graves said as he rounded the talk back to the present and – hopefully – something that Rarity could join in on. “I thought Stalliongrad had you chained to the desk.”
“They do,” Araneida laughed once more. “But I decide that two years of pushing paper is long time without vacation. Thus, I sneak out, hijack airship, and go on little holiday.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Graves murmured with a grand roll of the eyes. “But why Ponyville?”
“To visit you, of course,” Araneida smiled. “I ask Princess Celestia of best student’s location and come to see if he grows rusty. I am pleased to see his blade still sharp.”
“Still active, still fighting,” the marshal answered, though not without the faintest hint of smugness in the words. “You should know that since your ambush failed.”
“Yes, about that,” the blonde intoned, emerald eyes lighting up and black leather softly rustling as she leaned in. “How you know I be in your chambers?”
“Trade secret,” Graves smirked. “ ‘Course, I could trade if you teach me that–”
Before the pair could launch into another one of their inscrutable tirades, the town clock tower chimed the hour.
“Shoot, it’s getting late,” Graves remarked as he case silver eyes out the window and at the fiery horizon. “Probably want to get settled in, huh?”
“That would be grateful, yes.”
“Luggage?”
“Small travel pack at train station. Move light.”
“Like always,” Graves smiled just before he stood. “I’ll go grab it. You pick out any room you like.”
“You mean she’ll be staying here?” Rarity blinked. Graves blinked as well, somewhat confused by the question.
“Course. Got plenty of spares, don’t I?”
“Very true,” Rarity nodded. “It’s just… men and women usually accommodate separately, do they not?”
Gunmetal grey eyes glazed over for a moment as the marshal considered a decidedly unexpected question. Once he had, however, the laughter returned.
“Ah, don’t worry about that,” Graves answered with an amused grin. “Compared to campaigns, different rooms might well be different houses.”
“Is that right?” Rarity murmured. Graves seemed to think it no issue and Miss Roamanov likewise showed no reaction. That seemed to mark the pretty seamstress as the only one perturbed by the situation, which is why she kept her peace.
“Anyways,” Graves continued, apparently satisfied that the issue had been settled, “I’ll go and get your stuff. Make yourselves at home.” And with that, the marshal nodded to each of the ladies, made for the door, and took off.
That just left Rarity and Miss Roamanov together for the very first time.
*****
Normally, it wouldn’t have taken her so long – getting a good read on your compatriots was critical for the socialite, after all – but given the whirlwind of introductions and backstory, Rarity had yet to get a really good look at Araneida. Thus, in the moments of silence following the marshal’s departure, she cast sapphire eyes over the newcomer for a thorough appraisal.
As her first impression had indicated, Araneida Roamanov, a woman of an age with the marshal if not perhaps a few years older, was truly beautiful. Long golden hair framed a stunning face that could have most men fumbling over words like athletes over a hand egg. The long, straight-lined scar marring one cheek should have been a detractor, but when coupled with those blazing green eyes, that imperfection seemed to somehow accentuate everything else with a soft, but intense heat.
And that wasn’t even talking about her figure. Though Rarity had never considered a military career, the thought passed over as she took in the other woman’s, to put it quite bluntly, spectacular form. If Araneida’s face could have addled men, then the curves outlined by black leather could have felled them at twenty paces. Really, what did they eat in the army to grow up like that?
“Is this gulag?”
“Er… come again?”
“Inquisition,” Araneida clarified. “You stare at me as if I am put to question?”
“Oh! I’m terribly sorry about that,” Rarity started with a frightful shock. “It’s just that I was so busy admiring your, um… that is…”
It was only when she caught the glitter of amusement in Araneida’s grin that she realized no offense had been taken. It didn’t do anything for the embarrassed flush in her own cheeks, yet it was something at least.
“Do not worry,” the Stalliongrad agent easily laughed as she lazily stretched out. “It is compliment I catch your eye so. Still good for field work, if that.”
“Field work?”
“Right, you are not soldat,” the blonde woman nodded. “As Graves say, I am spy. Or was. Anyway, best way of get intel is make sure they look more than listen. This way, they say what should not be said yet never know.
“Of course,” she continued with a sly smile, “I need not explain this to lady of high society, yes?”
“What, me?” Rarity remarked both from pleasure and surprise. “No, I wouldn’t consider myself anything of the sort.”
“No?” Araneida remarked as emerald eyes blazed a bit brighter. “You sit with poise like czarina, you speak as if ready to sing, and you wear clothes unlike others in town. Hand-stitched flowers, yes? And of quality suited for shining city. No, you may be in small village now, but you are of society.”
Rarity sat there for a spell as she attempted to work enough blood from her stunned brained to her hanging jaw to get it working again.
“You certainly have a keen eye,” she finally remarked once her faculties were in ready order once more.
“I am spy,” Araneida shrugged, the gesture tinged with shades of amusement and pride. “Is my job to see what others do not. Is also how I see that you are in love with Graves.”
“I… ah… wha?!”
The violet-haired beauty was, to put it bluntly, caught blindsided like a deer by a careening carriage in the dark of a stormy night from such an unexpected question.
“Come now, that is easy one,” Araneida smiled. “The way you look at him, sit turned towards, even blind myshi could see is true.”
“Uh, well I suppose that… why, yes, yes I am,” Rarity finally managed after a good bit of stammering and blushing. “My goodness, pardon me. I’m usually not so easily flustered.”
“Don’t worry, it is cute,” the former agent smiled warmly. “It is like a little girl with her first crush. Very adorable.”
There was nothing wrong with those words. By every right in both selection and tone, those words were warm and friendly and complimentary in every way. Yet for some reason, Rarity found that those kind, innocuous words just didn’t sit quite right. Of course, considering she was so off-kilter from the entire interaction, she didn’t put much stock into the feeling.
“I suppose I don’t come across as the most… grounded of women, do I?” Rarity admitted with a fresh bloom of crimson in her cheeks. “I must admit, it is frightfully embarrassing at times. I mean, we’ve already been together for some months now, and I still feel like giggling every time I see him. Can you believe it?”
It was at this moment that Araneida, so confident and composed since the start, first looked surprised.
“You two are… together?” she blinked.
“But of course,” Rarity answered. “Wasn’t it obvious?”
“Ah, you must forgive me,” Araneida laughed, all easy smiles once more. “As you see, I am not so familiar with your ways.”
“But surely you noticed,” Rarity remarked once more, albeit this time with just a touch of something else in her voice. “After all, you are very clear about observing the details and you obviously know the marshal very well. It must have been obvious.”
“I do know him well,” Araneida nodded. “After all, true knowing comes from putting life on line together, as we do so often before.”
Once more, that sense of something being not quite right. Rarity quickly quashed it down as the blonde woman continued.
“But you must understand,” she continued. “Syeri is not like most. He is wolf, with strong claw and iron fang. To admire him is one thing. To presume him your pet another.”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t presume so much as that,” Rarity laughed, though not quite as easily as her companion had. “Graves holds a very special place in my heart and I believe I do the same in turn. It’s hardly ownership when the bond stems from mutual affection, no?”
“This is true,” Araneida nodded. “Syeri much softer now. He smile more in hour today than whole campaign I stood beside him.”
Once may have been chance. Twice a coincidence. But when the same naggling feeling of unease came three times running, Rarity felt it best to finally give it voice.
“Miss Roamanov,” she began, cautiously lest the growing unrest in her stomach discolor her words, “surely you’re not suggesting that I have misinterpret the marshal’s general improvement of mood for special favor, do you?”
“Now it is I who presume too much,” Araneida chuckled as she raised open hands in easy concession. “Forgive me, my words are coarse. I merely say that Syeri is good man who is softer than before. I say nothing else of what may between you two.”
Rarity quietly pursed her lips, not responding to the statement as thought took precedent over words. Her brain was churning, though to be perfectly honest, she really wasn’t quite sure why.
Graves and she had a special connection, no two ways about that. After the arduous and slightly ridiculous courtship process that had resulted in her meeting the man behind the myth and legend, it really would be quite silly to think they didn’t. Anyway, it was through that connection that the two of them had gotten together, and since then, she’d never had reason to doubt the marshal’s affections. He was as absolutely steadfast in his intentions now as when he’d stated them so clearly towards her those many months ago.
Which, come to think of it… was an awful lot like how he treated his work, wasn’t it?
Just like Araneida said, Graves was a good man. More loyal than the most faithful guard hounds, Graves gave everything he had to what he believed was right. This included his both work and loved ones, but of course, relationships were very different. People didn’t spend time because they had to, they did it because they wanted to, as Graves had stated so beautifully before.
Of course, nobody could deny that her efforts to understand the fears stemming from a past traumatic enough to make the Marquis de Sade weep were certainly admirable. Graves was a good man, as Araneida had said, and he would certainly be grateful for it. But it’s not like gratitude for something he’d never had before, yet desperately needed, would create a deep-seated obligation compelling him to respond towards her affections with the same steadfast loyalty that he gave to his service solely because of his steadfast nature. To presume that his desire to be in a relationship was in actuality a mere reinventing of his noble character and desire to do what was right would be utterly preposterous.
… Right?
Whether for good or for ill, it was at that precise moment that Graves decided to return with bag in hand.
“Hey there,” he called out as the door closed behind him. “You ladies having fun?”
“Much,” Araneida nodded. “Miss Rarity is very pleasant company.”
“That so?” he remarked. “Didn’t think you two’d get along so well.”
“Because we are so different?” the blonde woman laughed. “Is true, but is fun to be with different kinds. For a while, no?”
“Guess so,” Graves shrugged. “Anyway, got your stuff here. After you get settled, I figured we’d go out to eat, maybe get some drinks?”
“Food and spirits, like all good camps,” Araneida smiled. “In this case, I get changed and meet you here. скоро вернется.” Standing from her seat at the table, she seized up the bag and turned back to Rarity once more.
“Is good meeting you,” she remarked with hand extended forward. “I hope to be talking with you again soon.”
Rarity returned the smile and handshake, but not with as much enthusiasm as such a friendly first greeting warranted. Araneida didn’t seem to mind, though, as with a last smile towards Graves, she hitched up her bag and headed upstairs.
“Man, still can’t believe she’s here,” Graves murmured in gravelly awe at her departure. “Seems like just yesterday we were fighting the Crimson Brigade.”
“And yet you never mentioned her before,” Rarity intoned delicately. Coolly.
“Never had a reason,” Graves shrugged. “Mission talk never really struck your fancy.”
“Ah, of course.”
“Which reminds me…” With a small, but obvious smile, Graves reached into his pocket and fished out the small parcel and handed it to Rarity.
“Souvenir from this trip," he rumbled. "You like it?”
Rarity unwrapped the oil paper wrapping and allowed sapphire eyes to light on the broach of intricately knotted silver. She blinked, looking somewhat surprised, and said nothing.
Needless to say, this was not the normal reaction that Graves was expecting, which is why he, as an expert on things not normal, felt his smile fly off faster than one of his trademark lightning bolts.
“You don’t like it.”
“Oh, it’s not that,” Rarity started as a grateful smile quickly came to her face. “I’m sorry, it’s just that my mind seems to be running in seven different directions... It really is lovely, dear. Thank you. Thank you so very much.”
Though it may have been as subtle to most as the change in hue between slate and light charcoal, the slight curve that returned to the marshal’s lips marked just how pleased he really was. For Rarity, this reaction elicited two responses. First, some guilty thoughts at ever having doubted the marshal's affections, a sentiment which she neatly bundled away. The second, amusement at such a drastic change for so small a matter, she readily shared in ringing chimes of delighted laughter.
“Honestly Graves, you go off to battle with werebears and what not, and you’re more concerned about whether I like your present?”
“Werebeasts are easy,” Graves insisted with a neat little tug on his hat. “Making sure you’re happy, not so much.”
“Well, you’ve done an admirable job this time, dear. Thank you,” Rarity insisted as she stood straighter to plant a kiss on his lips. Only after she was both literally and metaphorically grounded once more did Graves continue.
“Anyways,” he grunted. “Neida seemed to like you. Wanna join us for dinner?”
“No no, you two have fun,” Rarity laughed. “I can tell when old war buddies need time to catch up. You go on and have your fun.”
“Then we’ll do something tomorrow,” the marshal insisted, a surprising remark considering his usual equipoise on social events. “She’s a guest, but I can’t just go ignoring you, can I?”
“You’d better not,” Rarity replied with the mock severity he knew so well. “But we’ll worry about that tomorrow. Au revoir.” And with a final fond smile to the marshal, Rarity turned around and headed out the door.
Once outside, Rarity gave herself a little shake and set out at a brisk pace back towards her boutique. It wasn’t quite as fast as her arrival, but it was a good bit quicker than her mood mere minutes ago would have allowed.
Really, she was being quite ridiculous. It was clear that Graves loved her as much as she loved him, and certainly in the same way. Just because they didn’t flaunt their romance with egregious displays of public affection didn’t mean it was any less true or meaningful than those who did.
And so what if he used the turns of phrase, “can’t just ignore you,” as if paying attention to her were some sort of obligation? Why, it was a perfectly normal saying that a man who was genuinely in love would use for his special lady. The fact that the statement could also stem from the general goodwill of a man viewing relationships as obligations was certainly no proof that that was how he actually felt. Neither was the fact that he’d invited her along only because his precious guest would not take offense, thereby creating no conflict in what could be seen as equally important duties.
No, Rarity clearly had nothing to worry about. Absolutely nothing at all.
**********