Fleur opened the door and ushered them inside. The banquet hall was every bit as grand as its entrance suggested. Five other couples were seated at a rectangular table that appeared to be one solid piece of carved wood inlaid with jewels.
The ponies, of course, were the real sight to see. Fancy Pants was seated in the center of the table next to Fleur’s empty seat, as expected. The other guests were a veritable who’s who of Equestrian elite. At last, Rarity’s excitement returned and, thanks to Spike, she didn’t have to keep it completely bottled up.
As they walked towards the table, she whispered to him, “Spike! There’s Fancy Pants, and there’s the pony of ceremonies from the last five Canterlot Garden Parties, and his wife, the head of the Society for the Appreciation of Under-Appreciated Art, and—”
“Look, there’s our place!” Spike said.
Rarity followed his gaze and nearly fainted. There, in the center of the crowd, were two empty seats with place cards in front of them: one card with her name, and one with his. They’d finally arrived.
Fleur rushed to the head of the table. She tapped a spoon against the nearest teacup and extended a welcoming hoof. “Everypony, I’d like to present our prospective members: Rarity, and her husband, Spike.” She beckoned them forward. “Would the two of you care to introduce yourselves before we begin?”
All eyes were on them in an instant. Rarity’s many prepared introductions came to mind, but, as she’d secretly hoped, none of them were needed. One of the other members stood up and clapped. “Surely everypony here already knows Rarity, the famed fashion designer?”
Gasps and excited murmurs swept around the table.
Rarity curtsied. “Thank you. It’s an honor to be in your presence, and even more so for my reputation to precede me.”
Fancy Pants smiled and adjusted his monocle. “It’s indeed a pleasure to see you again, although I confess I’m not familiar with your husband’s place in the world.”
Rarity kissed Spike on the cheek. “This is my esteemed husband, Spike. He’s the assistant to none other than Princess Twilight Sparkle, and a close personal friend of Princess Celestia.”
A fresh wave of excited chatter followed as they took their seats. Fancy Pants quelled it a moment later by standing. “Now that we’re all present and the doors are locked, I’d like to call this meeting of The Blue Pony Society to order. We’ve already introduced our guests, which means we can proceed with the schedule of events. After brunch, we’ll partake in the traditional—”
Something silver and white sailed through the air and landed in his face with a splat. Whipped cream splattered across the table and decorated neighboring ponies; he’d been hit by a pie.
Rarity’s heart nearly stopped. Her seconds-long gasp was echoed by Spike and the others. Who would dare? Was this the work of a disgruntled cook? Didn’t he just announce the doors were locked?
Fancy Pants removed the pie pan from his face and shook the filling off his monocle. Fleur’s deep laugh announced her position at the far end of the room, next to a cart piled high with cream pies. She was rolling on the floor and laughing hysterically. “So sorry to interrupt your speech, dear, ha ha!”
Rarity raised her hooves to her mouth, resisting the urge to chew on them. What would he say? What could even be done to salvage decorum and decency from a pie being thrown in the face of the host?
Fancy Pants broke into a grin and started laughing. “Well, we had planned on saving the pie fight for this afternoon, but given that opening volley…” He retreated to an identical cart on the opposite side of the room, and the rest of the members quickly chose sides. Pies flew left and right, some propelled by magic, others by simple hoof throws. In seconds, the whole of the room disintegrated into a snowstorm of whipped cream.
Rarity and Spike were still seated at the table, neither one able to process what was happening. He flicked a bit of crust off his arm and touched her hoof. “But… But you said these were the most elite—”
“Pinch me.”
“Huh?”
Rarity stomped a hoof on her chair. “Pinch me! This is a nightmare that I’d very much like to wake up from!”
Fleur ran over to them with a fresh pie floating by her side, and the remains of many more dripping from her coat. She could barely talk through her guffaws. “Isn’t this wonderful, Rarity? We’re out of the public eye, and we can finally be ourselves!”
Rarity didn’t know how to reply, which seemed to be a developing pattern when it came to Fleur. “This… I don’t know how to…”
Fleur set the pie she’d brought between them. “I know it’s a bit of a shock, getting to act this natural in front of near-strangers. Trust me, you’ll have the most fun if you simply dive right in. You do wish to join our social circle, don’t you?”
Rarity found herself nodding. “Yes, yes I do. Spike… would you be a dear and… throw that pie in my face?”
Spike opened his mouth wide enough to swallow the pie whole. “You want me to… to…”
She cringed. “Yes.”
With a shaking claw, he picked up the pie pan and moved it towards her. It happened in slow motion, and not just because of her dread. Whole seconds passed as he moved the pie closer and closer until, at long last, whipped cream smeared across the side of her face. The mere thought, let alone the feeling, of pie filling oozing through her expertly coiffed mane, perfectly groomed coat, and hoof-made gown made her shiver. There wasn’t enough shampoo and conditioner in the world to undo this feeling, not even if she lived out the remainder of her days in a bathtub.
Worse still was the sound that followed, the sound of Fleur laughing and clapping her hooves. “Well done, Spike, but you’ve made a serious mistake.”
Spike looked around in a panic, as if he’d been caught committing a heinous crime. “B-but she asked me to! I s-swear!”
Fleur grinned and shook her head. “You’ve forgotten to pick a side, which means you’re both fair game to all of us.”
Right on queue, a barrage of desserts flew at them from all sides. The world vanished in a sticky white mess to the sound of ponies laughing.
A few minutes later, when the ammunition ran out, the club members stumbled their way back to the table amid cheers and laughter. Fancy Pants nearly slipped out of his seat, which elicited a fresh round of tittering.
“Now, as I was saying—” He took a moment to wipe off his monocle and stifle his own laughter. “—our itinerary consists of the pie fight originally scheduled for the end of the day, limbo, piñatas, Pin the Tail on the Pony, bobbing for apples…”
Rarity wanted to faint, and under normal circumstances, she would have faked it. Instead, she had to settle for the slightly more lady-like option: wait for the lunch break, and then excuse herself for not feeling well.
---
Rarity couldn’t even hear herself crying anymore. The only sounds that remained were the hiss of the shower head and the rustle of the brush scraping through her mane. Water wasn’t enough, no matter how hot. She’d exhausted her personal collection of soaps and moved on to the horror of the little bottles provided by the resort. Still, she didn’t feel clean. She’d have to cut off her mane. She’d have to shave off all her fur.
After wrenching the brush free, she threw it across the room. It knocked against the door of the steam-filled bathroom and clattered to the floor. The long, purple hairs caught in its bristles were still sticky with whatever vile substance those pies had been filled with; glue or chewing gum were her best guesses.
“Rarity? Are you in here? I’ve got my eyes closed, I swear.” One of Spike’s hands appeared between the nearly closed door and the wall.
She broke into a fresh sob. “Go away. I don’t wish to be seen!”
“But you’re crying, and you’re missing everything.”
“Everything? Ha! What tomfoolery are they engaged in now?”
“Please, can I just come in to talk?” Spike pleaded.
“No! It isn’t decent to— ” Rarity shook her head and her wet mane flew in her face. “—argh! Fine! Yes, come in!”
Somewhere in the sauna of a bathroom was her monogrammed robe. Instead of looking for it, she turned off the water and draped a towel over her body. Was that even necessary? Decency certainly didn’t matter to Fleur and her club of elite partygoers. If that was how the top tier of society acted, why should she even bother with trivial acts of modesty?
The door creaked open and Spike entered. He had one arm over his eyes and the other held out in front to check for obstacles. “I know this is weird, I just don’t want you to be unhappy. I thought maybe if we could just talk…”
“You can look, Spike. As you said this morning, we… don’t normally wear clothes. I distinctly remember times when we’ve been out with our friends in the rain, despite my objections…”
An eternity seemed to pass before Spike actually lowered his arm. When he finally did, Rarity knew exactly what he saw: a pony, soaking wet, sitting in the shower with a tangled mane and hopelessly mussed coat. She didn’t even want to see herself, let alone his reaction to her present state.
To her surprise, he didn’t react at all. He sat on the ground next to the shower door and hugged his knees. “Want to talk?”
“Not particularly… but I suppose I must, since you’ve dragged yourself away from whatever horrible game they’re playing now.”
“You missed a crazy game of Pin the Tail on the Pony. Fancy Pants almost pinned it on Fleur. Twice.”
Rarity rolled her eyes. “What is wrong with these ponies? I can’t fathom why they’re dying to act like foals, although I can certainly see why they keep it a secret. They should’ve invited Pinkie Pie instead of me; she’d be right at home.”
“Heh, yeah.”
Spike inched closer and touched the edge of her mane. “What happened?”
“You were there, Spike.”
“Not the pie fight… there’s this big knot in your hair.”
She sighed. “I suppose that’s why my brush was getting stuck. I’m half tempted to cut it all off.”
He jumped up. “What? No, I can… I mean, may I?”
“Hmm? May you what?”
“Untangle it?”
Rarity turned up her nose. “I fail to see what finesse you can muster that I can’t.”
Spike held up a hand and touched each claw together in sequence. “Thumbs.”
“Very well… I don’t suppose I need to repeat my earlier threats against your life. What happens here shall not leave this room.”
He stood next to her and tugged on the tight spot in her mane. “What is this? Gummy candy and pie crust?”
“Whatever it is, I’d very much like it removed.”
“No problem.”
Rarity lowered her head to the floor while he worked. “Thank you, Spikey. I… I don’t deserve a friend like you, not after how I’ve behaved. It’s just as well I excused myself from the meeting.”
“It’s okay, Rarity, really. I get that this isn’t how you wanted things to turn out. I’ve… kind of been having a good time, though.”
“Oh? I suppose you care for silly party games more than I do.”
“It’s more than that, but… never mind. Everypony at the meeting missed you after you left. They were hoping you’d feel well enough to come back before they called it a day.”
The tightness on her scalp subsided, and a few newly freed hairs tickled her ears. “That feels simply amazing, Spikey. As for the club… I don’t know about you, but I clearly don’t belong there. Let me do something for you instead; perhaps there’s a restaurant that caught your eye, or an interesting shop?”
She could feel Spike’s claws trembling. “R-really? For me?”
“Of course. Even if this whole weekend had gone swimmingly, there would still be the matter of me repaying you for your tremendous generosity. Based on how it’s actually gone… well…” Rarity looked at him and smiled. “What would you like?”
Wants aside, Spike looked like he was about to need chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. “I… uh…”
“Or we could take an earlier train back home, if you’d rather put this mess behind us.”
He found his voice with a great gasp. “Let’s stay. Let’s stay and do something together. We can find a restaurant like you said, or we could order room service.”
“Based on the state of my mane, perhaps room service would be the best op—”
There was a knock on the door, followed by the dreaded voice of Fleur. “Spike? Rarity? May I have a word?”
Rarity threw off the towel and dug through her belongings for a bathrobe. “J-just a minute!”
A few seconds later she was dressed in her robe and poised at the door. “Spikey, dear, are you decent?”
He stumbled out of the bathroom with her towel on his head. “Kind of.”
She put on a smile and turned the door knob. No matter how awful the club was, Fleur was still a member of the upper crust, a pony worth maintaining a rapport with. “So good to see you again, Fleur. I’m sorry I needed to excuse myself.”
Fleur waved off the apology. “That isn’t needed, Rarity. Would you mind terribly if I came in for a moment?”
Rarity shook her head and beckoned her inside. She already knew how the scene was going to look. She and Spike were soaking wet, the bathroom was full of steam, and she didn’t care. Fleur could think and say what she liked.
Fleur gave her a hug. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Rarity. Everypony was sad to see you go.”
Rarity frowned. “I suppose that should be flattering. In truth, Fleur, your little club isn’t at all what I expected.”
“I gathered, although in time I think you’ll come to realize that that’s the best part.”
“What do you mean?”
Fleur sat down on the nearest chair. “Rarity, there’s a specific reason this organization is strictly for married members of high society. All of us have high-profile, high-stress jobs that place a great deal of strain on the bonds of marriage. These little get-togethers and their silly competitive events are like special dates and relationship therapy sessions rolled into one. Fancy and I owe our strong relationship to the occasional mock fight.”
Rarity stared at her, open-mouthed. “I… I don’t suppose I considered the reason for the marriage rule…”
Fleur stood and hugged her again. “I won’t keep you and Spike, not when you could be enjoying your honeymoon in peace. In a few years, you’ll come to value retreats like this, the chance to throw cares to the wind and laugh with your husband.”
Spike walked over from across the room. “Years?”
“Yes, Spike, years. Oh, you missed Fancy’s concluding remarks, didn’t you? It’s my pleasure to welcome you both into The Blue Pony Society. You’ll be receiving regular invitations from here on, including more normal events like art exhibitions and fancy dress balls. Still, you’ll find that the heart of the club is in closed-door meetings like this one.”
Fleur walked to the door, glanced back at them, and winked. “Have a lovely honeymoon. I’ll be in touch.”
Spike waved goodbye. “Th-thanks.”
Once they were alone, he turned to Rarity. “We… we did it! We got you into The Blue Pony Society!”
Rarity didn’t know what to say, and at the moment, she was smiling too much for words to come out properly. “S-Spike?”
“Yeah?”
“I… I promised myself I would show greater respect for your feelings for the remainder of the weekend, so I’ll ask first: would you mind terribly if I hugged you and we danced around the room? Otherwise I fear I might explode.”
He spread his arms wide. “Of course we can, dea—”
That was all the provocation she needed. In an instant, Rarity was sailing around the room on two hooves with the other two wrapped around him. Words couldn’t describe her joy; even if she never went to another one of these ‘special’ meetings, which was a distinct possibility, she’d achieved one of the highest social ranks.
“We did it, Spikey! Thank you! Thank you so—”
A small kiss on her cheek brought the dance to a standstill. She’d done that and worse to him more times than she’d care to count, and yet, being on the receiving end felt entirely different. She stepped back and giggled. “Why Spike, that was… unexpected.”
He touched his claws together and blushed. “S-sorry, I just felt… felt like we—”
She smiled and held up a hoof. “There’s no need to apologize, Spikey-Wikey. I know this whole ordeal has us both out of sorts. If you’d be so kind as to finish saving my mane, let’s leave the past behind us, order room service, and spend time together. That is something you wanted to do this weekend, isn’t it?”
He smiled, although perhaps not as brightly as a moment ago. “That… that sounds great.”