//------------------------------//
// Part 1 
// Story: Silver Bells 
// by Kegisak 
//------------------------------//


Part 1


        Bits clattered on bits like a chorus of silver bells. They bounced across the bedspread, chased by a pair of tiny white hooves.
        Sweetie Belle gathered her bits together and began to slide them off the pile, one by one. She chewed her lip as she counted them out. “Twenty-five... twenty-six... twenty-seven. What can I buy with only twenty-seven bits?” She leaned back against her bedposts and looked out the window.
        Snow drifted lazily by, piling on the windowsill and falling to the ground below. The world outside the window was a picturesque winter scene. Thick, fresh snow lay everywhere, piling into drifts against builds and lounging on rooftops. Icicles hung down from the gutters, and although the sun was shining brightly the frost around her window spoke to the chill outside.
        Sweetie turned back to the pile of bits before her and rubbed her cheek. “What can I get with only twenty-seven bits?” she asked again.
        “Sweetie Belle?” Rarity called from down the stairs. “Are you almost ready? Silver Spoon will be here shortly.”
        “Coming!” Sweetie Belle called. She chewed on her hoof, fretting for a moment before a thought struck her. She hastily scrabbled up her bits, depositing them into a purse which she tucked into her mane. After that she bounded off her bed and near-galloped down the stairs.
        “Goodness, Sweetie!” Rarity said, just barely dodging Sweetie. “You don't have to come down that fast. Silver isn't here yet.” She looked Sweetie up and down and added, “A good thing, too. Come here and let me fix up your mane. Then I'll pick out a nice coat for you to wear.”
        Sweetie nodded and trotted after Rarity. “I need your help!” she said.
        “Well, yes,” Rarity replied, “I should say so.”
        “No,” Sweetie replied, shaking her head. “Not with my mane.” She paused. “Not just with my mane,” she corrected herself. “I guess it does need a bit of work...” In fact, it needed quite a lot of work. Her coat was cleaned and groomed to a silken sheen, but her fretting had left her mane a mess of haphazard curls and stray hairs.
        Rarity tutted as she sat Sweetie Belle down in a kitchen chair. “Now,” she said. “I know you need my help with your mane and outfit. I know you don't need my help understanding the musical that you and Silver will be seeing. I am mostly certain that Silver's family is not so concerned with propriety that a few faux pas are not an enormous concern. And to be frank, with as much time as you two have been spending together lately I don't expect you to make any. Especially not with Twilight redefining propriety every time she is made to host an event.” She smiled wryly “And I somehow doubt you've developed a crush on her butler. So tell me dear, what seems to be the problem?”
        “It's Silver's Hearth's Warming present,” Sweetie Belle cried.
        “Please hold still, Sweetie,” Rarity admonished. She stood up and gathered Sweetie's mane in a bunch in her hooves, humming to herself. She levitated pins, slipping them into Sweetie's mane experimentally. “Do you need help wrapping it?”
        “I need help picking it!” Sweetie said.
        “Picking—Sweetie!” Rarity said. She set her hooves on her hips. Sweetie Belle could feel her eyes on the back of her neck like hot steel. “I thought you'd picked something out already.”
        “I tried,” Sweetie said, tucking her head beneath the glare. Rarity tutted loudly, and Sweetie rose again. “I tried,” she repeated, gesturing vaguely, “but I couldn't think of anything!”
        “You must know what she likes by now,” Rarity said. She returned her attention to Sweetie Belle's mane, tying it back to fall in a bunch around Sweetie's neck, and tapped her chin. “You've spent enough time with her these past few months.”
        “I do,” Sweetie said. “But she's so rich, she already has everything she wants! And what she doesn't her family can get her...”
        “They hardly spoil her,” Rarity pointed out. She smoothed Sweetie Belle's mane with her hooves, fluffing it gently. “There,” she said, satisfied.
        “She isn't,” Sweetie said, slumping into her hooves. “That's the problem. I asked her about her Hearth's Warming list, and she's so used to not being spoiled that there's hardly anything she wants! Anything she does want, her family is probably getting her.”
        “Tell me what you think, Sweetie,” Rarity asked, hovering a mirror in front of Sweetie's face. Sweetie's mane had been pulled tight around her scalp, save for her pink streak, which swept to the left across her forehead and tucked behind her head. The rest of her mane was tied in a bunch and draped across the left side of her neck, rolling over her shoulder and framing her collar in a way that must have been deliberate—no mean feat, as Sweetie knew firsthoof just how impossible it was to make her mane behave.
        “Wow,” she said, running a hoof gently along it. “It looks amazing!”
        Rarity smiled as she set down the mirror, humming as if she already knew. “So,” she said as she took a seat across the table from Sweetie Belle, “have you spoken to her family about what they have, and have not, gotten her?”
        “No,” Sweetie said, the excitement from her new manestyle ebbing away as fast as it had come. “I haven't had the chance. And it's definitely too late now. I don't want to ruin the night by them taking us somewhere so I can get a gift, if they even would. This is the last time I'm gonna see her for two whole weeks, until she gets back from Canterlot. I want it to be special.” She sighed and slumped into her hooves.
        “Careful of your mane, dear,” Rarity said. “There will be shops where you're going; they wouldn’t have to go out of their way.”
        “I'm not gonna give Silver something from a gift shop!” Sweetie said. “That would be worse than not getting her anything at all!”
        “That's not what I meant,” Rarity said. “There are a lot of stores in Manehattan's arts district. Book stores, record stores... even if there isn't anything on Silver's list you can get her, you must be able to think of something she would appreciate, hmm? Perhaps something she doesn't know about yet?”
        Sweetie Belle frowned. She moved to run a hoof through her mane, but Rarity's glare put a quick stop to that. “Y-you think that would work?” she asked.
        “It works for me,” Rarity said. Her expression took on a cynical edge, and she added, “Since Applejack rather ardently refuses to ever ask for gifts, I have found a whole host of methods for finding something for her.” She waved a hoof. “At any rate, yes, I think you would be able to find her something she would appreciate.”
        Sweetie Belle leaned back into her hooves, mulling this over. “...She's been trying to watch more musicals,” she said. “She's enjoying them, too. Do you think she'd like a soundtrack from something?”
        “You know her better than I,” Rarity said with a shrug. “If you think it's something she'd like, I would go for it. However...” She leaned in and fixed Sweetie Belle with an expression like steel. “Tell her parents, or her butler, about this before you go to do it. Don't just run off and leave them wondering where you went. Better yet, take one of them with you when you go. It will be easier to make an excuse for leaving that way. You don't want Silver to know that you waited until the last minute to get her present. You shouldn't have, but we're here now and we must do what we can.” She leaned back in her chair, although her expression did not soften. “And for that matter, make sure you know exactly what you want to get Silver before you go. You mustn't leave her waiting for too long.”
        “R-right,” Sweetie said. She had sunken into her chair as a wave of guilt came over her, blossoming in her stomach like a flower made of tar.
        It was only then that Rarity's expression softened. She reached out to Sweetie Belle and stroked her face. “You only waited this long because you wanted it to be something special, and meaningful,” she said. “You and Silver have been through a lot together lately. I understand that. So will Silver. But if you really do want tonight to be special, you should still try to keep her from finding out.” She smiled faintly. “Don't let this make its way to Applejack, but sometimes a little fib can be for the best.”
        “Okay,” Sweetie Belle said, nodding. She breathed deeply, cleansing herself of most of the guilt. She smiled her best smile for Rarity. “I know,” she said. “This has gotta be great enough to tide Silver over for two weeks, so I've gotta do it right.”
        Rarity smiled wider and tapped Sweetie Belle's nose. “It has to tide you over too, Sweetie,” she said. “It takes two to tango, after all. Now, come on. Let's pick out a nice coat for you.”
        Rarity lead Sweetie Belle into the living room. A coffee table had been shoved aside to make room for a large clothing rack, which was filled to the brim with coats of all styles and colours. Sweetie Belle couldn't help but smile.
        “You might be more excited for this than I am,” she commented. “And you aren't even coming!”
        Rarity's tight expression spoke volumes. “Yes, well,” she said. “One only has a first Hearth's Warming with their marefriend once, after all. It should be a special evening, and part of that is looking one's best.”
        Sweetie grinned and nodded. Though trying on coats for a quarter of an hour was far from her idea of fun, she couldn't help but agree with Rarity. She thought to herself that Silver might have called that Stockholm Syndrome, but Sweetie had a sneaking suspicion she'd be dressed up herself. The promise of seeing her was more than worth it.
        So Sweetie tried on coats and jackets, one after another, at Rarity's behest. She tried on double-breasted coats in red and single-breasted coats in icy blue. There were longcoats stiff, emerald-green felt, and scarves of soft red wool. In the end Rarity settled on a heavy woolen peacoat with a skirt that hung over Sweetie's croup. It was a deep, powdery fuchsia, accented by white buttons and a light pink scarf wrapped tightly around Sweetie's throat.
        Rarity was adjusting Sweetie's scarf for the eleventh time—Sweetie had counted—when there was a knock on the door. Sweetie gasped and pulled away from Rarity, hardly bothering to hide her glee at having an excuse. Rarity, for her part, smiled and shook her head. It was far from the only reason for Sweetie's excitement, after all.
        Sweetie bounded to the door and pulled it open, beaming at the filly outside. “Hi, Silvy!”
        Silver Spoon grinned back at Sweetie. She shivered gently in the cold, pulling her scarf further up her neck. She had forgone her usual simple braid, instead tying her mane in a complex weave. Braided bangs framed her bright, sharp face, and a loose bun flared behind her head, but save for a crimson scarf her nape was left bare. She wore a double-breasted coat of deep, emerald green, and most surprisingly of all had exchanged her normal horn-rimmed glasses for a wire frame so fine that Sweetie Belle had to look twice to be sure Silver was still wearing glasses at all.
        “Hey, Sweetie,” Silver replied. She smiled just a bit wider as she looked Sweetie up and down. “You look... really great.”
        Sweetie Belle giggled and rubbed her cheeks to hide a blush. “You look beautiful too,” She threw her forelegs around Silver's shoulders, kissing her cheek. “How are you?”
        Even without looking at her, Sweetie Belle could feel the vivid blush in Silver's cheeks. “I-I'm good,” Silver said. She laughed and returned Sweetie Belle's hug. “How about you? Are you ready to go?”
        “Uh-huh,” Sweetie Belle said as she broke the hug. “I'm really excited! I don't think I've ever actually been to a show this big before.”
        Silver grinned and adjusted her spectacles. “No offense, but I'm sure you haven't ever been to a show this big before.” Her smile turned warm and soft. “I'm glad you're able to come with me.” she turned to Rarity and nodded. “Thanks for letting her come,” she said.
        Rarity waved a hoof dismissively. “It wasn't my decision,” she said, “or our parents. At this point, I'm not sure we could stop her if we tried.”
        “She's right,” Sweetie said. She hooked her foreleg around Silver's with a giggle. “There's nothing in Equestria that would stop me from spending tonight with you.”
        Silver Spoon blushed deeper, but pulled Sweetie Belle in. “Well, I'm glad,” she said. “'Cause I want you with me there all evening.”
        A pang of guilt struck Sweetie, but it was not enough to dull her spirit, especially not as Silver Spoon, with a cautious eye on Rarity, chanced to nuzzle her cheek.
        “Mom, Daddy and Kelson are waiting in the carriage,” Silver said, adjusting her glasses. “It's gonna take us to the train station to take us to Manehattan. It's, uh, a little while before our train, but we shouldn't keep them waiting.” She grinned. “The train is warm, but the carriage isn't, really. Kelson will never admit it, but he got tired of being cold a long time ago.”
        Sweetie Belle giggled. “Okay,” she said. She turned to her sister and waved. “Bye, Rarity!” she said. “Thanks for all your help! Say hi to Mom and Dad for me when they get back, okay?”
        Rarity laughed to herself and waved back. “Of course, Sweetie,” she said. “Have a good time this evening.” It was probably imperceptible to anyone else, but Sweetie heard a weight to the words and saw an edge to Rarity's eye that was as much warning as it was encouragement. Still, her smile was warm and the edge in her eye was tempered with a cheerful twinkle.
        “Alright,” she said, “goodbye!” She waved to Rarity once more, then lead Silver out the door.
        They trotted down the path hoof-in-hoof, taking a moment to enjoy the gentle stillness of the winter world. Snow floated gently down past them to squeak and crunch beneath their hooves. The walk was short, however, and before long they were clambering into the enormous black carriage waiting outside. They sat down beside Kelson, Silver Spoon's family butler, who as she had suggested was looking immaculately miserable. He was a tall, burly pegasus the colour of tarnished brass, who even now seemed to have an air of joviality about him in spite of his misery. He had served in the Navy alongside Silver's father, but despite leaving the sea behind many years ago he still smelled vaguely of saltwater. Sweetie Belle always enjoyed being near him; his very presence was calming and cheering.
        Kelson reached back, tapping the wall of the carriage to signal the driver. The carriage lurched to a start and rattled down the street. “Afternoon, Sweetie,” he rumbled in his peculiar brogue, “Good t'have you aboard. How've you been?”
        “Hi, Kelson,” Sweetie Belle replied. “I'm doing great, thanks! How about you? You look... cold.”
        Across the carriage, Silver Spoon's father stifled a snicker. His wife thumped him in the chest, although she smiled as well. Kelson grumbled and shifted in his seat, but his tone was as cheery as ever. “Oh, you know an old sailor,” he said. “I've been on the sea in the dead of winter, an' all that. Hard for a bit of snow to compare to ice on the decks an' wind down yer back. Good for a strappin' young stallion, the cold. Good for the bones.”
        “Yes,” Silver Spoon's father commented dryly, “and yet you leapt at the chance to give up the life of 'good for a strapping young stallion' and stand around a warm, dry house full of stodgy rich ponies all day.”
        Kelson coughed heavily. “Well, can't be a strappin' young stallion forever, now can I?” he asked.
        “I suppose not,” Silver's father replied. “The years do move on.” His smirk turned to a fond smile. “Ah, I remember when I was your age, girls, visiting this theater for the first time. My aunt and uncle came out from Canterlot to visit, brought my cousins with them. My aunt, she was a great proprietor of the arts, you see—you would have liked her, Sweetie Belle. Lovely mare, full of spice, died too young.” he shook his head. “At any rate, I didn't much want to go, at first. I didn't know my cousins yet, and I thought all theater would be terribly boring. I had never bothered to visit Manehattan's arts district. But they pulled me out regardless, and I was smitten the moment I saw it.”
        “Do you think it's still the same as when you were a colt?” Sweetie asked.
        Silver's father laughed. “I should say so!” he said. “I've done my level best to keep it that way!”
        “You'll love it, Sweetie,” Silver said. “You've never seen anything like it.”
        “Uh-huh,” Sweetie Belle replied. “You told me. But my Mom and Dad aren't poor, you know. I've been to see plays in the city before.”
        Silver smirked and leaned against Sweetie. “You're getting better at sarcasm,” she said. “I'm not saying that you're poor, just that you're not quite as...” she paused, waving a hoof vaguely.
        “Offensively, disgustingly, illogically rich?” Kelson offered, eyeing Silver's father keenly.
        Silver's father simply laughed. “I deserved that,” he said.
        Silver simply shrugged. “The point is, there's a theatre, and then there's the Maretropolitan Opera House. It's huge—it's so big that there are other, smaller theatres on either side of it! And there's a huge square with fountains and statues, and performers in the summer, and there are food stands all along the outside...” She closed her eyes and sighed dreamily. “They have crepes, and churros, and cocoa, and shortbread...”
        “Stop!” Sweetie Belle giggled. “You're making me hungry.”
        “Good!” Silver proclaimed, “We'll get lots to eat when we're there!”
        “Not too much, Silver dear,” Silver's mother chimed in. “You don't want to spoil your appetite for dinner after the show, now do you?”
        Silver's smile faded, though her enthusiasm did not. “No, Mom,” she said. She managed, with clearly heroic effort, to only roll her eyes a little.
        “Oh pish, Starling,” Silver's father said. “The show is hours long, and the wait for dinner is hours more. If anything some snacks will keep the poor fillies from starving to death. No doubt I'll be forced to partake in a few myself.”
        Starling's expression sharpened as she prodded at her husband's stomach. “Oh, really?” she said. “Forced, Sunlight? I think you just want an excuse to cheat on your diet.”
        Sunlight burst out laughing, swatting playfully at her hoof. “Away with you, mare!” he said. “Hearth's Warming is no time for diets!”
        Silver chuckled and turned back to Sweetie, adjusting her glasses. “Anyways,” she said, “You're gonna love it. It's especially beautiful around Hearth's Warming, when all of the lights are up. It's like a row of stars all along the walk, and...” she laughed and rubbed her muzzle. “You know, it'll probably be better if you see it yourself. I'll try not to spoil it for you.”
        Sweetie Belle grinned and hugged Silver close. “Thanks, Silvy,” she said. “If you think it's pretty, though, then I love it already. I'm kind of surprised to hear you liking something about a theatre!”
        “Silver Spoon blushed faintly, peering across the carriage at her parents. “W-ell,” she said, adjusting her glasses, “I liked everything around the theatre, at least. And, admittedly... I've started enjoying it a lot more, this year.” She grinned, and her blushed deepened. “I have a pretty big reason to like it now, after all.”
        Sweetie Belle couldn't help but blush as well. “Awwwwww,” she said, pressing her forehead against Silver's. Silver laughed and responded with a kiss, and the two quickly descended into a pile of blushes and giggles.
        It was not long before the carriage pulled into the train station, however. Sweetie Belle and Silver Spoon managed to compose themselves, thanks in no small part to a liberal helping of awkward coughs from Kelson, as the carriage rumbled to a stop. They waited inside for a moment while the driver unhitched himself and readied the step-stool, then emerged once more into the snow.
        Kelson was out first, offering a helping hoof to Silver and Sweetie as they clambered down the steps. The two fillies were still faintly red and giggling. Silver adjusted her glasses and Sweetie straightened her coat, then they made way for Sunlight, who helped his wife down.
        Kelson took the driver aside to give him his next instructions. While he did so, Sunlight produced a small pocket-watch and flicked it open. “We've made good time,” he announced to nopony in particular. “Wasn't certain, what with the state of the roads. The next train will be arriving shortly,” He checked the schedules on a nearby sign to confirm, “and my stallion in Manehattan will be waiting for us with another carriage to The Mare.”
        True to Sunlight's word, the train arrived in a few short minutes. A swarm of ponies erupted around it from all walks of life: working-class ponies in coats and jackets so ragged they could well have been three generations old, ponies every bit as crisp and rich as Silver Spoon's family, and every spot in between. Had it not been for Kelson's guiding hoof, Sweetie Belle could have easily been lost in the tide.
        When they finally took their seats Sweetie's head was spinning, very nearly literally. So much so, in fact, that as they sat down Silver Spoon placed a gentle hoof on Sweetie's head to hold it still.
        They were seated in a small compartment, clearly designed for the highest class of customer. Although the compartment was small, it did not feel at all cramped. Rather it felt cozy; two rows of plush seats with thick, sturdy arms were placed on across from the other, constructed from stout, darkly-lacquered wood. The colours of the compartment were all warm, full of reds and oranges and deep browns. Even the setting sun lent itself to the picture, painting the snow outside the wide window a soft, bright pink.
        “First time on a train, dear?” Starling asked as Sweetie blinked away around the compartment.
        Sweetie ducked her head, flushing faintly. “No,” she said. “Well, it's my first time in a compartment train. I've only ever ridden in the big carriages where everypony is sitting together before. I've never seen that many ponies before, though.”
        Sunlight chuckled. “'Tis the season,” he commented dryly.
        “It's always like that this time of year,” Silver said. “Especially going to and coming from big cities.” She grimaced. “Taking the train to Canterlot is awful every year,” she said. Her eyes drifted to Sweetie, and her shoulders sagged further. “Gonna be even worse, this year. Two weeks without you is gonna suck.”
        Sweetie could not help but smile, although she felt a twinge of sadness herself. “It won't be... so bad,” she said. “It's only two weeks. And you'll be with family.”
        “None of whom are you,” Silver replied. She rolled her eyes. “Or even my age. They're all grown-ups or babies.” She harrumphed and adjusted her glasses.
        “Chin up, Wee Miss,” Kelson said, nudging Silver. “It's only for two weeks, an' yer Sis'll be there. An' there's yer second cousins, even if they are a bit older.”
        Starling coughed politely. “And of course, dear, it doesn't really do to bog down a happy evening with complaining.”
        “Until you're married, at least,” Sunlight said. He coughed and laughed as Starling smacked him across the chest.
        Silver Spoon laughed as well. She pushed her glasses up her nose and hooked her foreleg around Sweetie Belle's. “You're right,” she said. “I want to make as much out of tonight as possible. So I've gotta stop complaining.”
        Sweetie grinned. “I'll try to stop you before you get too into it,” she said. Inside, however, a wave of guilt crashed over her. Nothing would spoil a good evening faster than a lousy present—or worse, no present at all. Sweetie could hardly bear to think how Silver would feel for the next two weeks if she ended the night thinking Sweetie had neglected to buy her something. Their relationship would survive, of course. Their mere being together was so monumental that nothing as small as a Hearth's Warming present would break it, but Silver would still be hurt. She had worked so hard these past few months, doing everything she could to try to be a better pony, and she deserved better than to go through Hearth's Warming sad. She deserved the best evening, the best present, and the best Hearth's Warming Sweetie Belle could give her.
        So, while the other passengers chatted amongst themselves, Sweetie set her brain to work. She silently recited a song, as she had always done when she needed to think something over, and peered out the window into the rapidly darkening landscape. What could she get Silver that the filly would appreciate, and not be getting from anypony else?
        Books were always an option, of course. Sweetie knew that Silver read before she slept, and if there was a lot of anything to choose from, it was books. On the other hoof, Sweetie also knew that Silver's mother was an avid reader, and her tastes overlapped with her daughter's significantly. It would be difficult to find something Silver could not easily find in her mother's collection.
        Games were right out the window. Sweetie doubted she would find anything of the sort in a theatre square. Even if she could, being able to pass it off as something that she had bought before hand would be nearly impossible. The skirt of her coat provided room, but not enough room for a big, clunky box, and the only thing worse than hurting Silver would be hurting Silver while waddling with a box between her legs.
        The next option, and the most obvious, Sweetie supposed, was music. Silver loved music, and dancing, and the walls of her bedroom were lined with records. In another time that might have only discouraged Sweetie more—it was, after all, an abundance of music that Silver already had. Recently, however, Silver Spoon had begun to tentatively dip her hooves into the water that was theatre, determined to shake off her previous fears and biases. She had tried very little, picking what she tried carefully, cautiously, nervously.
        Perhaps it was only that Sweetie Belle had begun to think more like Silver, even as Silver had begun to think more like Sweetie Belle, but Sweetie had often wondered if Silver was waiting for somepony to give her a push into the pool. Fortunately for Silver—and in this instance, for Sweetie—it was a pool that Sweetie knew very well.
        Her heart tightened in her chest as she set her mind on the idea. It was perfect! Something she knew that Silver wouldn't have, or have asked for, because she wouldn't know what would interest her. Sweetie Belle knew, however. The moment she thought of it no less than a dozen shows came to mind that she was certain Silver Spoon would love. Perhaps Silver would want somepony at her side to help overcome her biases, but that was hardly a downside. Sweetie could think of little else more pleasant than spending an evening with her marefriend listening to music.
        Which left only a single question: Which musical?
        Sweetie Belle frowned deeper. She sorted through a mental catalogue of all the shows she'd ever seen—or even simply heard of—for the right musical. It had to be perfect. This show was too classical, that show was too jazzy. Some shows had silly plots Silver wouldn't like, others had themes that she wouldn't care for. One show, in fact, was about literally eating the rich.
        Sweetie Belle quickly became engrossed in the task, so much so that she hardly noticed as the train pulled to a stop. Had her foreleg not still been interlocked with Silver's, she likely would have been forgotten on the walk to their carriage. Even the rattling, shaking and jostling of the carriage on the Manehattan roads could not shake her from her task. The only thing that could was Silver's voice, infected by a twinge of worry.
        “Sweetie Belle?” she asked. “Is everything okay?”
        Sweetie Belle looked up and blinked. “Huh?” she asked. “S-sorry, what?”
        Silver frowned and adjusted her glasses. “You looked upset...” she said. “And you barely talked on the train. And you didn't talk in the carriage. Are you feeling sick?”
        Sweetie Belle winced. “N-no,” she said, waving her hooves. “I was just, um... I just had something on my mind, is all.” She lowered her head. “Er, I'm sorry.”
        Silver's peered at Sweetie Belle. Eventually her frown faded, although it did not disappear. “Okay,” she said. “What was it?”
        Sweetie Belle waved a hoof. “Um, it was nothing,” she said. “Just something silly, it wasn't really important...”
        Silver's frown returned. “You sure?” she asked. “You looked pretty serious about it.”
        “Oh, you know me,” Sweetie Belle said vaguely. She laughed—it sounded forced even to her—and grinned.
        “Yeah...” Silver replied. She shook her head. “I guess if you're sure nothing is wrong.”
        “I am,” Sweetie Belle said, tucking Silver closer. She breathed out, and a tension she didn't realize she had felt ebbed away. Unfortunately, it replaced several times over with a rush of guilt. She tightened her grip on Silver's foreleg. “So, um... I think I faded out there for a minute. Are we here?”
        Silver chuckled and adjusted her glasses. “Yeah,” she said. She shrugged and gestured out to the square before them. “Welcome to the Maretropolitan!”