A Night At the Opera
“Wow, you are just full of surprises, Rumble.” Sweetie Belle did her level best not to blush, with the boy so close to her.
The boy in question didn’t seem to have any emotion in him at all at the moment, just an intense focus. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to be offended by that.
“Umm, thanks,” he said, keeping her body close to his as he let her dip. His wings were up, his hind hooves steady on the stable floor, one front hoof holding hers, the other on her thigh, just above her cutie mark to show it off.
“Yeah, I thought you said you hated dancing?” Scootaloo said as he carefully raised himself and his dance partner back up, keeping Sweetie Belle at proper gentlecolt distance, of course.
“No, I said I’m not a dancer. But I am gonna be a Wonderbolt one day, and Wonderbolts don’t bail on friends. So, do you want me to do it again?”
Apple Bloom, sitting on a bale of hay, nodded. “I think you’d better. Sweetie Belle ain’t got the hang of it just yet.”
“I do too!” Sweetie Belle said. “Besides, I’m probably not going to have to dance anyway.”
“No, but you might,” Apple Bloom retorted. “It’s your first real trip to Canterlot high society. Who knows, you might find yourself a little prince. You wouldn’t wanna step on his toes then, would ya?”
“We don’t have any toes,” Rumble remarked, his voice a droning monotone. A girly droning monotone, but a monotone nonetheless.
“You know what I mean. Rarity’s countin’ on ya to fit in with the rest of the snobs, so you gotta be prepared. Now, if’n the gentlecolt is ready for another go?”
Rumble nodded. “Simple three-step, faster pace, I know the drill. I’ll lead. Ready? And one-two-three, one-two-three...”
Sweetie Belle had to force herself to look him in the eyes. He used to look a lot cuter, she felt, but why, she couldn’t quite place.
“One-two-three, one-two-three.”
The pair danced around the barn, calmly, quietly.
Sweetie’s mind wandered to how they’d ended up like this. On one hoof, it was Rarity’s fault. She’d offered to take Sweetie Belle to see some Canterlot show, and since Sweetie Belle was developing a fascination for that sort of thing – her cutie mark had something to do with that, she knew that much – the filly had been tickled pink to accept.
Her heart still skipped a beat when she thought about what kind of trust Rarity had in her now. A cutie mark really did make all the difference. She wasn’t about to let her sister down.
But then Apple Bloom and Scootaloo had gotten involved. Apple Bloom had heard the horror stories from Applejack about Canterlot high society, which were a mix of scary and strange, from Sweetie Belle’s perspective. Apparently the little Apple found it odd that unicorns would have garden parties that did not involve actual gardening. Scootaloo then, always thinking of how to make a good impression, had teased and prodded her about what sort of boys Sweetie might meet in Canterlot. She’d jested at first about jousting matches, but then Apple Bloom had had the bright idea that maybe Sweetie Belle should prepare to actually dance with a boy, just in case.
And that’s how Rumble had gotten dragged into this.
It wasn’t entirely a random choice, seeing as the girls had grown rather fond of the boy the past few weeks. They’d had their ups and downs, mostly regarding a minor nervous breakdown on Rumble’s part: questioning his personal worth, his physical fitness, never being able to measure up to his dream of becoming a Wonderbolt, he’d been really torn up about the whole thing. But to Sweetie Belle, it was the sort of drama she had gotten used to from hanging out with her sister, so it hadn’t struck her as unusual and certainly not beyond remedy. Rainbow Dash had straightened the boy right out, at least that’s what Rainbow Dash thought. Rumble’s face hadn’t quite gotten back to normal after that, though, but what exactly that meant for a boy like him was anypony’s guess. Regardless, Rumble was helping Scootaloo out with her flying, he’d been instrumental in getting her off the ground in the first place, and while the future Wonderbolt insisted, even now, that he wasn’t a dancer, there they were, dancing.
All they had to do was ask.
“Would you mind helping us out? It’s a dance thing, and we kind of need a boy for it.”
Strange how easily he’d accepted. Perhaps it was his Wonderbolt stallion pride.
“Sweetie Belle?”
He felt so soft to the touch. Much to her surprise, he didn’t even feel muscular. His thighs and belly were still squishy somehow, much like her own. But he was a fit boy, an athlete, he should have felt harder than that. It made her wonder.
“Sweetie Belle?”
“Huh?”
“We’re done,” Rumble said matter-of-factly.
“Oh, sorry. You need to go now, huh?”
He nodded. “Not like urgently, no, but I do need to go soon. Go practise, I mean. Today’s a spinning day, I only have forty-five minutes before dinner, plus tonight’s a pasta night, so I have to make sure I get all my practice in before I eat. Wouldn’t wanna throw up in mid-air.”
“Sounds… fun?” Scootaloo said.
He let out a mirthless chuckle. “It’s just training. Wonderbolts work hard. I kinda need to stick to my schedule, that’s all. Gotta stay in shape.”
“Right. Can’t become a Wonderbolt stallion if you skip out on your reps.” Sweetie backed away and got down on all four hooves.
“Nope,” Rumble did the same. “So was there anything else you needed help with? Like, quick?”
“No,” Sweetie Belle said. “I think I’ve got it. You can go, if you want. And thanks again.”
“No problem.”
She gasped when he smiled at her. It was so brief, so bright, so sincere, it stuck out in her mind. But then he turned and left, and she could tell he went back to his usual, ‘schedule this,' ‘Wonderbolt that’ self.
Sweetie Belle had figured the boy out quickly. He was the sort who wanted to be all he could be. But apparently ‘happy’ did not fall under that umbrella just yet.
“Hey, youngins.” Applejack poked her head in just as Rumble was halfway across the orchard. “New friend?”
“Yeah,” Apple Bloom said. “Just somepony to help out with dance lessons for Sweetie Belle.”
“Ain’t Scootaloo good enough for that?” Applejack nodded to the flying filly.
“I don’t do ballroom dancing,” Scootaloo replied.
“Rarity’s taking me to my first opera tomorrow night, I just wanted to be ready in case I meet a prince or something,” Sweetie Belle said.
Applejack furrowed her brow. “You’re practisin’ ballroom dancing in case you meet a prince, on your first trip to the opera? Isn’t that a little excessive?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it is a little bit excessive. But, umm, the last few times someone in my family ran into a prince, it didn’t turn out very well. I’d rather make sure I’m good this time.”
Applejack psh-ed. “Oh, come on. Ya got nothin’ to fret over. Last Gallopin’ Gala we-well, okay, that got mucked up by Discord, but the Royal Wedding we-right, changelings, I guess, but the Galloping Gala before that, Rarity err...”
Sweetie Belle shot a glare at Applejack.
“Huh. Gettin’ ready in case you run into a prince. You know what? Forget I said anything, smart idea.”
The next day started like any other in Ponyville. After dancing practice with Rumble, Sweetie Belle had finished the first draft of a new screenplay before bed, she was almost done with the latest book her mom had gotten her on style guides and rules of storytelling (turns out you weren't supposed to do too much telling in storytelling), all in all Sweetie Belle was happy to be trotting to school that morning with her farmer friend by her side.
“So have you thought about what we're gonna do with Rumble yet?”
“Well, we were going to help him get his cutie mark, but if all he wants is to be a Wonderbolt, that might be too much for us,” Sweetie Belle replied. “You heard him the other day: he’s on a schedule. If we make him break it, he’d get angry. Or sad.”
“But Rainbow Dash got him to lighten up, didn’t she?”
Sweetie Belle looked around. “No, she got him to stop obsessing over the Wonderbolts like they’re perfect. Like he has to be perfect. She fixed one problem, but the one we were looking to fix is still there. He’s still not having any fun with all the effort he puts into flying. After all he’s done, the reservoir thing, helping Scootaloo, not to mention managing to impress Rainbow Dash, he’s still a blank flank.”
Apple Bloom grumbled and nodded, walking on towards their schoolhouse. “Yeah, and that’s gonna be a tough nut to crack, I reckon. Where's Scootaloo, anyhow? School's almost starting.”
Sweetie Belle looked up. “Probably flying now. Look, there's Rumble.” She pointed and waved up at the grey colt, who was currently flying up and down in circles, presumably doing his morning reps, eyes closed and mouth in that same neutral position they’d gotten used to seeing.
It reminded Apple Bloom of Maude Pie, in a way. Except even Maude Pie’s face cracked a smile every now and then, and at least she had rocks to enjoy. “Wow. Does he always come to school like that?” Apple Bloom asked.
Sweetie nodded. “He has lately. You haven't noticed?”
“Nope. Good morning, Rumble!” Apple Bloom waved a hoof at him.
Rumble stopped his practice for a moment, then waved down at them. “Hey, girls!”
“Race ya!”
The call came right when he was distracted. He'd done three backflips already, or four, he wasn't sure.
Something bolted past him, despite being weighed down by a bag full of books.
Something that had only started flying mere days ago.
Something orange.
He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Good morning to you too, Scootaloo.”
Scootaloo made a roaring beeline to the building, before dropping down and skidding to a halt.
“Nice landin', Scoot,” Apple Bloom said, picking up the pace to catch up. “Where's your scooter?”
The pegasus cocked her head towards the treeline. “Pinkie Pie got me a storage space.”
“Storage space? Where?”
“Cherry tree near school. I got my own key and everything. Where's Rumble? He was right behind me.”
Sweetie Belle's ears perked as she looked up.
Up above, the grey colt was still going at his leisurely pace, doing his flips and corkscrews as he approached, his facial expression never changing. One final spin, and he dropped straight down.
As always, Rumble landed quietly and gracefully, barely mouthing the word 'five.' “Hey, girls.”
Scootaloo grumbled. “Why would you let me win?”
He raised an eyebrow, in much the same fashion as he had when Scootaloo had asked him to teach her how to do a Sonic Rainboom. He still wasn't sure why she'd assumed he could do one in the first place. “Umm, because it's early in the morning, I hadn’t done my workout yet, and I need to pace myself?”
“Come on, that's no excuse. Where's your sense of honour?” She tried to punch him in the shoulder, but he swatted her hoof away.
“Please don't try to punch me. If you really want to race me, I do speed runs over Ponyville twice a week, you can see how you measure up tomorrow, if you like. In the meantime, I have a schedule to keep, and I am not getting bruised. Rainbow Dash would kill me if I got hurt. Can’t be a Wonderbolt if I’m careless.” He spoke, as always, with a calm, if high-pitched, voice, more like a filly’s than a colt’s.
Sweetie Belle had to suppress a sigh. Even after Rainbow Dash had straightened him out, always with the Wonderbolts, that Rumble. Always on schedule.
At least it worked for him.
“I guess,” Scootaloo conceded.
The bell rang, and Cheerilee came out to call the group. “Girls! Class is starting.”
Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and Apple Bloom all went towards the school. “So whose turn is it to do show and tell today?”
“I think it was Featherweight,” Sweetie Belle said.
Rumble stayed put, before reluctantly following them, still with the same pondersome look on his face.
Sweetie pouted and waited for him to catch up. She could almost swear she heard gears grinding in that pretty little head of his. “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine. Just trying to stay on schedule, is all. Like a real champ would. Rainbow Dash would say the same thing.” He forced out a smile.
Sweetie Belle could tell it was forced; her sister pulled that one out every time Sweetie brought her breakfast in bed. Apparently charcoal biscuits wouldn’t be retro for at least another hundred years. “You know you don't have to always do every little bit of practice perfectly, right?”
“Yes, I do. It has to be perfect. If I ever want to be a Wonderbolt stallion, I can't let up. I can't take a break off schedule, I can't afford to overwork myself, and I can't quit,” he explained calmly, quietly. “You heard Rainbow Dash. I’m a champ, not a chump. So I act like a champ. I can’t quit.”
“No, but can champs afford to have a little fun?” Sweetie Belle asked. “Rainbow Dash has fun.”
“Flying is fun,” he replied coldly as he went in. “You wouldn't understand, no offense.”
Sweetie Belle stood there, pondering that answer. She could have argued it, get the last word in before class started. But on the whole, what were the odds of that working out in her favour, and by extension, Rumble’s favour? “No. Huh. That's a good point, actually. I guess I wouldn't.”
The Weather Patrol was just wrapping up another well-timed rain shower when the school bell rang.
“Alright, class dismissed. Rumble, your turn for a show and tell tomorrow,” Cheerilee said. “I'm sure we're all looking forward to it.”
Rumble squeed, his wings flaring in a reflex. “I promise, you won't be disappointed.”
Diamond Tiara was first to the door, but not because she was in a hurry to get home. “Party at my house this Saturday,” she said, grabbing some notes. “It’s invitation-only, so if you know anypony who might want to show up, let me know. You can’t get in without an invitation.”
The Cutie Mark Crusaders looked on as their class filed out and passed Diamond Tiara.
“Am I invited?” Twist asked as she went by the filly.
“If you want to show, sure. My parents just want to make sure they know how many ponies are coming. So, are you coming alone?”
“I think I’ll ask my mom or my thister to show, too.”
“Okay. Let me know if you need more invites, then.” Diamond gave Twist a pair of very regal and official-looking notes.
“Will do. See you on Saturday.”
“See you, Twist.” Diamond Tiara turned towards the Crusaders. “How about you, Zippoorwil? You wanna show?”
“I'd love to!” The beige buzzing bespectacled pegasus filly eagerly took an invitation. “Umm, no dogs allowed, right?”
“Sorry,” Diamond said with a wince. “My mom has a thing about furry animals.”
“No problem.”
Sweetie Belle found that remark stuck in her head, as remarks were wont to do for the little filly. Spoiled Rich had a thing about furry animals? Sweetie Belle herself, and her whole family with her – aside from her uncle Biscuit, but no one liked to talk about him – belonged to a breed of unicorns that favoured mountain landscapes. That's why they had such strong voices, her mother had explained once; for calling out family across great valleys and chasms. Unicorns in general had about ten to twenty-five percent of the genetic make-up of a goat, according to some specialists. What exactly genetics meant at all to a creature of magic, even the specialists couldn't quite agree on.
At the very least, Sweetie Belle was pretty sure she was on the twenty-five percent side of the average. It would certainly have explained her cooking skills. It was also why her mane tended to curl naturally, and why her coat fluffed up so easily.
Technically, as far as she knew, she was a furry animal. Would that pose a problem?
“You’re all invited, too, with a plus one.”
That answered that question. Sweetie Belle's mind was on point like that.
“That’s awful nice of you, Diamond,” Apple Bloom said, taking her two invitations. “I think I'll ask Big Macintosh to show up; your family likes him, right?”
“Yeah, good idea,” Diamond said with a grimace. “It's gonna be great, I promise.”
“Am I invited?” Another girly voice asked.
Diamond Tiara chuckled nervously. “You know you don’t need an invitation, Rumble. You’re always welcome. You too, Silver Spoon.”
Silver Spoon smiled and took two of the invitations, regardless, never saying a word.
“Just checking.” Rumble walked by, not even taking a note. “So, Scootaloo, you ready to try a catch now? I've got about ten minutes to spare today. Just no flips or bolting this time; I’m doing intervals later.”
“No problem. I think I’ve got the hang of catching now.” She followed and took off as Rumble spread his wings.
“So you’re not going to strangle the dummy again?” He got out his vaguely Diamond Tiara-shaped practice doll and swung it over his shoulders before lifting off. As before, he didn’t look like he was joking.
Maybe he’s not eating right, Sweetie Belle thought. An upset stomach can really wreck your mood, no matter how good things are going.
“Eheh, I’ll umm, I’ll try.”
With that, the two pegasi were airborne and practising. The girls stayed behind while Miss Cheerilee locked the building for the day.
“Has Rumble said anything to you since his little spat with Rainbow Dash?” Apple Bloom asked.
“No. He doesn’t talk about stuff like that. He just likes playing the big tough stallion, you know?”
“I still think we need to get him a cutie mark, stat. And I still think dancing is the way to go. He was good at it.”
“Wait, dancing?” Diamond asked. “You made him dance? For real?”
Sweetie Belle winced at the filly’s tone. “Err, yeah, why?”
Diamond shivered in the terror the girls had only seen her exhibit in front of her mother. “D-did he say anything, did he pull anything?”
Sweetie Belle slowly shook her head. “Err, no. He didn’t hurt himself. Why would he?”
“Well, like, he’s super uptight, you know. He might forget to stretch before dancing because it’s not a workout. Besides, my mom doesn’t like it.”
Sweetie perked her ears. “Why not?”
“She says it’s not proper conduct for a stallion, basically. Go figure.”
Apple Bloom groaned. “Well, he sure didn’t act like it. I thought he was gonna start takin’ notes on his reps and sets while he was dancing with you, Sweetie Belle. And why would we make him dance? You know you can’t rush cutie marks, and you can’t force a cutie mark for somethin’ a pony ain’t cut out for, and we all know Rumble ain’t cut out for dancing. Took us long enough to figure that sort of thing out, I’m sure Rumble knows by now.”
“No, don’t grab it by the neck!” came a cry from up above.
“I know. But we have to do something. He’s still got the same problem he started out with,” Sweetie Belle said. “He’s the best young flyer in Ponyville, and he’s not having any fun, at all. Have you seen his face lately? Sometimes, it just sinks. It’s like something sucked all his happiness out. He doesn’t even have any friends he can talk to. No offense, Diamond Tiara.”
Diamond pouted. “None taken. I try to talk to him, you know, but, like… he’s a pegasus, and a boy. I can’t exactly, umm, relate to him or anything. My mom doesn’t know any other ponies she likes, at least none that aren’t total jerks. If she did, I’d introduce him myself.”
“That’s not a bad idea, actually. If we could get him a friend he can talk to, that would make him feel a lot better.” Sweetie Belle put a hoof to her chin and pondered. “Maybe he’s not having any fun because there’s no one to play with, not the way he’d like to.”
“Get that tail out of your mouth!”
Diamond Tiara rolled her eyes. “Umm, maybe you haven’t noticed, Sweetie Belle, but there aren’t a lot of serious flyers in town, period. If you have to go find a boy, you have to look really hard in the first place, seeing as they're all in their own little clubs or scouts troupes or whatever. And if you have to go find a boy who’s anything like Mister Hurricane up there, you’re gonna have a bad time. I mean, really, where are we gonna find another boy who’s super dedicated, practically acts like a grownup, but still gets ignored all the time?”
Sweetie Belle conceded the point. “Yeah, I can’t think of anypony, either.”
“Sweetie Belle!”
Sweetie snapped her head around at the call. “That’s my mom. Thanks again for the invite, Diamond Tiara. And happy birthday.”
Apple Bloom shook her head, aghast. “Wait, birthday? That’s the occasion?”
Diamond smiled nervously. “Yeah. It’s only next week, though. But my mom and dad wanted the party this week, before they left on their business trip.”
Apple Bloom flinched. “They're leaving you?”
“Only for a couple of days. I can get a foalsitter, no problem. I just want the party to be nice, try and make up for, you know, everything.”
Apple Bloom’s jaw needed a moment to pick itself up after that. “Oh, gosh. I’ll be sure to get ya somethin’ nice, then.”
Diamond winced. “Please don’t. My mom doesn’t want me accepting gifts from ponies with less money than me. Which is, like, everypony from around here.”
“Oh, I can work around that, don’t you fret.”
With everything going on, Sweetie Belle had almost forgotten tonight was her big night. After her mother had picked her up, it had been a rush to eat dinner, get dressed, and get on a chariot to Canterlot.
Tonight she would finally be able to observe the Canterlot elite in their natural habitat. Without any national crises pending. Hopefully. And with a properly trained, experienced and, most importantly, fabulously dressed guide, of course.
“Now then, darling, remember what I said?” Rarity asked, carefully checking her long blue dress. Canterlot’s streets and buildings were always clean, but a girl’s got to be careful, after all.
Sweetie Belle was too busy taking in the sights and sounds of the welcome hall to notice, not to mention being careful not to get her matching dress dirty. “What?”
“Remember what I said, Sweetie Belle? About tonight?”
Sweetie Belle thought long and hard. “Umm, don’t be loud while you’re in the audience, don’t distract the other ponies.”
“And most importantly?” Rarity asked as they entered.
“Don’t use any magic when the Dance of the Falling Leaves comes along, I know.”
“Exactly. It’s a very complicated dance, and it looks very dangerous, but there’s a safety pony in the background. You don’t want to interrupt their performance.”
“I won’t.”
The mare and filly took a seat in a high box, and Sweetie Belle took the opportunity to read the program before the lights became too dim. Tonight was a very special show at the Canterlot Opera: the Faerie Wars. It was a mix of ballet and more abstract dancing, at least that’s how Sweetie Belle understood it. The story, as a lot of pony stories were, was about such civilised and friendly but tragically different and xenophobic factions getting embroiled in a war, the very land almost getting reduced to a desert waste, and the eventual resolution through friendship and harmony to find a lasting peace and power some sort of magical artefact that blew away all the evil and instantly restored all the damage the war had done.
Pony writers tended to rehash that one a lot for some reason.
The performance would be done by half a dozen different dancing schools from Canterlot, according to the program, some of them competitive dancers, even. Apparently that had something to do with how the schools and theatres worked, and how talent agents tended to judge individual performance, she didn’t catch the details. Something about preliminary rankings in the circuit and scholarships and contacts and whatnot. Such things were Rarity’s fare, not Sweetie Belle’s.
Sweetie Belle wasn’t here strictly for the dancing. While she loved the theatre almost as much as her sister did, her eye tended to go more towards music, song, and story, especially nowadays. She kept catching herself stopping her ears from twitching, now that she had her cutie mark: always some detail she caught, some little titbit that she might use in her own works if she could just find the right place for it. And she still wanted to make her own shows one day.
What better place to be in, then, than the seat of the noble Equestrian culture?
The show itself was, in a word, riveting. Fillies in shiny and colourful but oh so tight-looking get-ups danced and pranced around the stage, setting the scene, and once all the factions were introduced, the conflict began.
That’s when Sweetie Belle saw them.
Two Earth pony fillies, one a light pink and one more of a burgundy, and a celestial white unicorn. All three were taller than the others, dressed in tight ballet get-ups that showed off their hips and cutie marks, which happened to be dancing shoes for all three. They entered with all the pomp and fanfare of a Princess, and judging by the skirts, they were playing some important ponies. Their motions were more complicated than those of the younger fillies, as well; more jumps and twirls, more aggressive leaps at one another.
“Hey, I know those girls,” she whispered.
“The Faerie Queens?” Rarity asked. “Where do you know them from?”
“Those are the Slipper girls. They’re Diamond Tiara’s friends.”
“Oh. Well, I can see why the Riches would consort with them. The Queens have a very advanced routine for little fillies. They must have a high status in these circles.”
Sweetie Belle nodded. “Look at their legs. Those jumps.”
“Hmm, they’ve clearly had ballet training.”
“But I thought this was an opera?”
“It’s a mixed style, Sweetie Belle. Now hush.”
Sweetie Belle fell silent. On stage, the Queens danced around each other, with the lesser faeries mimicking the conflict about something or other, Sweetie Belle couldn’t quite tell. It was either because the little six-year-old fillies in the striped leotards couldn’t find enough honey for the ten to twelve-year-olds in the bathing suits, or because the thirteen-year-old(-ish) Slipper girl with the green wings had eaten the last tomato.
Pony theatre was confusing like that sometimes.
But then, at the height of the conflict, the little fillies and the teenagers cleared the stage, and a hushed silence fell over the hall.
“Here it comes,” Rarity said. “The land is dying, the trees are withering. Now comes the Dance of the Falling Leaves.”
Entering stage left, there was a filly wearing a pink leotard, and a pink tutu made up to look like an upside-down rose flower: the Rose Faerie. She was covered head to tail, even the hairs of her tail were wrapped up in a white bag of some sorts, with fake roses pinned along its length. As for her face, that was covered by a mask that erased her features and left mere black slits for her eyes. Still, she looked to be about Sweetie Belle’s age, going by her size.
Sweetie Belle took a closer look with the special binoculars Rarity had brought. “Why is she covered up like that?”
“It’s tradition.” Rarity whispered. “These aren’t main characters, but they represent higher powers, so their faces are covered. Makes it more abstract, you see. It’s a whole different genre, really, part of it is old unicorn culture. Dancers who are moving up the ranks in society perform in this style: fully covered, so they cannot be recognised or judged by their family ties, only by their performance. There’s a lot of matchmaking going on in the background, you see. It prevents discrimination. Sort of.”
That gave Sweetie Belle an idea.
Matchmaking, huh? Maybe if Rumble met one of those girls, he might hit it off.
As if in reply to her ponderings, entering stage right, there came the Willow Faerie. This one was dressed in black, also covered head to tail, her identity completely erased by the tight suit that hugged her girlish thighs and her taut stomach. There was, however, one thing that was not covered on this filly: her wings. They were green, and covered in glitter. That bag containing her tail was white, with grey streaks along the length and more glitter applied liberally to the whole thing. Like the Rose Faerie, the tail bag was long enough to reach the ground.
“A pegasus filly? It's not a pair of unicorns doing this?”
“Hmm? Oh, no, the Willow Faerie is always played by a pegasus. You’ll see in a moment. Wait for the glowing to start.”
“Glowing?”
Rarity nodded. “It’s an aerial performance, darling; fillies her age, well, your age, can’t do this sort of thing on their own. I’m surprised they’re not using adult dancers for this, actually.”
The two Faeries circled around and danced in an intricate rhythm. The music built up.
“I don’t see any glow.”
“Just wait. Any second now, darling.”
“Whoa. Are they-”
“No, it’s probably just somepony who can hide their magic very well. Umm, they wouldn’t… they couldn’t-oh... Oh my.”
Sweetie Belle’s jaw dropped.
But so did everypony else’s, so at least she was following the trend for once.
With the show over, Rarity and Sweetie Belle made their way to the main hall to mingle with both the performers and the rest of the audience.
But not without some warnings, naturally.
“Now, refresher course: you’re going to be dealing with high-society ponies. They are all important in their own way, and if you are to interact with them, you must appear important as well,” Rarity explained.
“But I’m only nine.”
“A prince in diapers is still a prince, Sweetie Belle. Importance and accomplishment are not the same thing, not here. There are rules to respect. For example, if they ask ‘Who might this be?’ then they’re asking me, and they expect me introduce you. However, if anyone asks ‘And who are you, little girl?’ or something like that, then they are addressing you, specifically, and you are expected to answer. You’ll be judged based on that answer, and I’ll be judged based on your ties to me.”
Sweetie Belle gulped. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“You can if you know the tricks to it. I had to learn it on my own, but you get to have a big sister with some experience." Rarity said with a wink. "Always remember that high society ponies care about two things: who you are and what you are. You are Sweetie Belle, you are my sister, and that’s who you are. But you’ve also done some important things, giving you the right to some titles.”
“So I should call myself Lady Belle now?”
“No, not like that. Like those girls we just saw. According to the program, their names are Rose Petal and Willow Bark, that is who they are. And they can do a very advanced dance. So what does that make them? Very high-level dancers that demand the appropriate respect.”
“Oh, so it’s like bragging,” Sweetie Belle concluded.
“Exactly, just slightly more polite, darling. Slightly. So, on the off chance someone asks you who you are, you first say your name, and before they can say anything else, you throw in an accomplishment, like you writing plays or carrying the flag at the Equestria Games. That establishes your status: who you are, what you are, and where you stand as a result. You don’t ask for their standing, though: if they wish to remind you, they’ll tell you about their own rank in conversation.”
“Got it.”
They made it to the hall. All around, waiters carried snacks and glasses of wine and fruit juice, depending on the needs and age of whoever was around.
“Rarity! So glad you could make it.”
The voice immediately made Sweetie Belle’s ears twitch. It was deep, forceful, but gentle. And above all, it was masculine. It was the sort of voice that could make every chicken in the Royal Hennery spontaneously lay an egg at the merest word.
When she saw the source of the voice, her heart skipped a beat. It was a unicorn stallion with an immaculate white coat, feathers trimmed to form a neat wave pattern around his hooves, and a blue mane and tail that sparkled in the light. He had a short moustache, as well as a monocle on his left eye. More than that, though, he was huge. He rose a full head above Rarity in size, his chest alone looked big enough to weather a storm, he positively dwarfed Sweetie Belle in comparison. His hooves were massive, his arms and legs were almost like tree trunks. He must have been the size of Big Macintosh, maybe slightly bigger. Was that even possible? Even her father wasn’t that large in comparison.
The way he moved and talked, though, felt familiar somehow.
“Fancy Pants, darling.” Rarity kissed the stallion on the cheeks thrice, but he went for a fourth, in accordance with the customs of his ancestors, rather than hers. They didn’t so much kiss, either, as much as they pushed their cheeks together and kissed the air next to them. “How have you been?”
Fancy Pants chuckled, and he kept his chin angled down in a very particular, aristocratic way, that struck Sweetie Belle as either deliberate to follow etiquette, or a bad habit that he really should see a chiropractor about. “Oh, the usual hubbub of painters and writers and actors trying to make their mark on Canterlot. Not a lot of talent lately, but a lot of promise, at least. And that’s more than anyone can ask for, I suppose. Speaking of talent and promise, who have you brought with you?”
Sweetie Belle thought for a moment, but took that question to mean it was aimed at Rarity, so Sweetie had to stay quiet, which she did.
“This is my little sister, Sweetie Belle.”
“Ah, yes, I remember seeing you at the flagbearer competition. And at the Equestria Games not too long afterwards. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He nodded in greeting.
Sweetie Belle trembled before him. There was something in his voice, she could feel it: a sense of calm authority, a weight behind him that he could crush her under at a moment’s notice.
“Pleased to meet you, too, Mister Fancy Pants, sir.” She nodded back and stifled a gulp.
“So, what did you think of the show?” he asked.
“Oh, just lovely,” Rarity said. “The bees and faeries never missed a beat, and the Queens, well…”
Fancy Pants turned his head towards the girls who were only now entering, no doubt needing some time to change out of their costumes and into their more formal dresses. “The Slippers, yes. They’re very good at what they do.”
“So were Willow and Rose, sir,” Sweetie Belle offered.
“Hmm? Oh, yes, obviously. They’ve been making waves ever since their début. Quite the little acrobats, those two. Didn't think they'd be doing something this advanced so soon, though. Seems like only yesterday they were doing the Starstruck Tango.”
“Do you know, by any chance, where are they now? Are they going to join us, in masks?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“I doubt it. Those fillies never show to after-events like these, probably can’t take the social pressure just yet. Can’t say I blame them, at that age. If you're not born into it, it takes a good mentor to prepare you, especially if you have to do this regularly. Why do you ask?”
“No particular reason. I was just hoping to talk to them.”
“Sweetie Belle has written a few stories and plays of her own. And she’s tried her hoof at dressmaking.”
He cocked his head. “Really, now?”
Sweetie Belle turned her eyes away and idly kicked the ground. “Yes, sir. I’m not very good at it, though.”
He held a hoof up like a teacher would, wiggling it to correct her. “Ah, ah, not very good yet, little girl. And neither is anyone when they start. I suppose, if you wish to make some liaisons in the circuit, as it were, you could always try arranging a meeting via proxy.”
Sweetie Belle gave him the most delicate and ladylike answer she could muster. “Lehuh? I haven’t gotten that far in French yet.”
Fancy turned and pointed to a slenderly built whitish pink unicorn mare. “Ask their teacher, Missus Swirl over there. The aspiring aristo’s never shy away from flaunting their skills, what.”
“Can we?” Sweetie Belle asked.
Rarity rolled her eyes. “I suppose we must. Thank you, Fancy Pants.”
“You’re quite welcome. Don’t wander off too far, now; I have some friends who’ve been dying to meet Sapphire Shores’ favorite dressmaker,” Fancy Pants said loud enough for other ponies around them to hear and turn their heads.
Sweetie Belle felt her heart finally stopping its tapdance routine in her chest. “That was Fancy Pants?” she whispered.
“Hmm? Yes, that was him. Quite the authority around these parts, knows just about anyone who’s anyone in arts, dance, song, he’s even on speaking terms with some of the Wonderbolts. Exuberantly wealthy, too; he owns a few businesses here in Canterlot, inherited and built. You'll be hard-pressed to find any pony brave enough to disagree with him.”
“Wow.”
It only now dawned on Sweetie Belle why Fancy Pants’ demeanour was so familiar. Rumble tried to be just like that: calm, collected, gentle, but powerful.
So that’s what he means when he says he wants to be a Wonderbolt stallion.
No wonder Diamond’s mom likes him.
The pair caught Missus Swirl in the middle of a well-earned drink. “Bonsoir, mesdemoiselles, que puis-je faire pour vous?”
Rarity blinked in confusion for the slightest moment.
“Bonsoir. Pourriez-vous nous dire quelque chose de vos students?”
Missus Swirl chuckled heartily. “Etudiants, little filly, the word is ‘étudiants’. But I must confess, I am impressed. It’s not often I hear a marshland accent." She turned her eyes to Rarity. "You look familiar. You are from Ponyville, I take it?”
“Yes,” Rarity said. “I am Rarity; I’m a fashion designer here in Canterlot, as well as in Ponyville. I did the costumes for Sapphire Shores’ latest tour.”
“Ah, yes, now I recall. Lovely work, my dear. And who are you, little girl, to be speaking French with such a distinct accent already?”
Sweetie Belle braced herself. She couldn’t mess this up. Not for her sister. Not for Rumble.
“My name is Sweetie Belle, Miss. I’m an aspiring playwright, and I was one of the flagbearers for Ponyville at the Equestria Games this year.”
“Hmm, were you, now? And you wish to know about my students out of, ah, professional interest, I take it? You’re welcome to ask them.” The doe-ish mare gestured to the trio of fillies who were entertaining some rich-looking colts. “Any friend of Fancy Pants is a friend of mine.”
“It’s not them I mean, Ma’am. I mean Willow and Rose,” Sweetie Belle said.
Swirl nodded. “Ah. Not much to say about them, I fear. They’re very dedicated to their craft, very capable for their age, or by any standard, for that matter.”
“They do not socialise yet?” Rarity asked.
“Non, I’m afraid they never show to these after-events. They are not yet ready, at least their families don’t think so.”
“Umm…” Sweetie Belle looked up at her sister for clarification.
“It means they’re not of noble birth themselves, and their family doesn’t want them to mingle with the nobles until they are certain they can measure up. That’s probably why they dance in that style in the first place.”
“Indeed,” Swirl said. “But it’s not just that: masked style suits them better, physically, I mean. Rose and Willow are fine performers, but they are not socialites. More raw power than elegance, if you catch my drift. They are not trained in etiquette yet, and it doesn’t come naturally to them as it does to proper dancers, so they require more grooming before their families will allow it.”
“Would it be possible to arrange a meeting with them?” Rarity asked before Sweetie Belle could. “A private one?”
“Why would you want that? Hoping to make connections early on, little girl?” Swirl smirked. She'd caught the twitch in Sweetie's expression, surely.
Sweetie Belle nodded sheepishly. “Yes, Ma’am. But not for me; for a friend. Very talented, very dedicated, but umm…”
“Having trouble socialising, I take it?”
“Well, yes. I was hoping maybe your dancers-”
“Oh, Rose and Willow are not dancers, ma petite: they are aerial performers. The curriculum is similar, but different, so the title they wear is different. And the insurance is very different as well, obviously.”
“Well, that’s the thing. My friend can dance really well, but he keeps insisting he’s not a dancer, either. He’s always saying he wants to be a Wonderbolt and-”
“Oh, your friend is a pegasus?" Missus Swirl interrupted. "A, ah, high flyer, as they say?”
Sweetie nodded eagerly. “Yes, Ma’am. Very good flyer, exceptionally strong. He can already do Wonderbolts level manoeuvres, like the pony glove catch. Wingpower seven. And he's in my class, Ma'am, same age.”
Swirl quirked an eyebrow. “His wingpower is seven? Average or maximum?”
“I think his highest was around eight, but that was in a group. And he wasn’t sure about his measurements then. But he trained to get seven, easy, so I guess it’s his average now?”
Swirl nodded knowingly. “He’s maxed out, then. Any more wingpower on such a frame and that little boy body would crack.”
“That's what I keep hearing. But I'm not a pegasus, as you can see, so I can't really tell. And the other pegasi in town, in my class, I mean, aren't at that high a level yet, so he doesn't have much to compare to. Except maybe your Willow, if you catch my drift.”
“Yes, I think I see what you mean. Willow is a prospective Wonderbolt as well, actually.”
Rarity quirked an eyebrow. “Really? You can do that from... well...”
Missus Swirl chuckled. “Indeed. It's part of pegasus history, in fact. When the Wonderbolts were in the early stages of their formation, when they started to pull away from the Royal Guard, some of the first recruits were drafted from these very halls. Dancing, you see, it has some advantages for fitness, for combat readiness. You have to understand, pegasus magic, it works differently from unicorn magic. Our magic is strongest when we are stationary, when we are calm and concentrating. Pegasus magic relies on motion. For pegasi, the best showponies tend to be the mightiest wizards, if pegasi were wizard material to begin with. A lot of them prefer, ah, what's the word... I heard a fine description for it passing by an Ogres and Oubliettes game at the park the other day... what was it? Multi-tasking?”
“Multi-classing?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“Yes, that's the one: multi-classing. The Wonderbolts recruit from diverse backgrounds, so aspiring recruits try to diversify. Jean-Colt Van Dam took ballet lessons, so did Arncolt Schwarzenschulter.”
That clicked in Sweetie's mind. And Rumble is already practising trick flying and rescue flying. So that's why he's doing so many things at once. I wonder what else those girls do, then.
“Huh. Van Dam and Schwarzenschulter, ballet? But they're so... bulky,” Rarity noted.
Swirl nodded and took another sip of her drink. “That's part of the reason they did it. Many smaller muscles need to be strengthened for intensive stuntwork, and the balancing ones, the core, need to be conditioned. Pegasi, as a rule, do not make good dancers, but they make excellent aerial performers. Just their instincts, I suppose.”
“So... Willow wants to be a Wonderbolt, too, and your school helps with that?”
The mare chuckled. “Not to toot my own horn, but yes, on both counts. These sorts of shows are a good way of making oneself known in high society, as I'm sure your sister can attest to. There's bound to be a Wonderbolt or two present here tonight, but I wouldn't be able to spot them out of their uniforms. Mostly it's the higher ranks that come here; the ones with the established connections.”
Sweetie's ears twitched. This would be perfect. “Do you teach boys, by any chance? If my friend wanted to try out for your school, I mean, could he?”
That got a nervous smile out of the pink mare. “Well now, I try to be inclusive, so yes, I'll take a boy student if he can cut the mustard but-” she cast a glance towards the Slipper girls. “As I'm sure you've noticed, the girls run this show. What is his cutie mark?”
Sweetie cringed. “Umm, he doesn't have it yet, Ma'am.”
“Then I would certainly think twice before letting him into my class. Boys do not come into dance classes lightly. Girls will do it as a hobby, as a matter of status, but for boys, it is a calling. They'll only join after they get their cutie mark, when they are certain it is what they want. Unless, of course, they're already showing great promise as dancers, if they’re certain their cutie mark will be in dancing. Does that sound like your friend?”
There, Sweetie Belle had to concede. “No, Ma’am, he’s definitely more of a flyer. It’s just that he’s the only one in town who’s that dedicated to flying. Since your Willow appears to be of a high level as well…”
“They should get along swimmingly, I see your point. You might be right on that note: Willow is very intense. Too much so, sometimes, but such is the way of things. I’d gladly pass on the message, but I cannot say whether it’ll amount to anything.”
“Why not?”
“Try and understand, little girl, this part of society is very exclusive. And even on the lower rungs, in the world of art, image is everything. Individuals trying to gain influence in these circles must prove themselves time and time again, and the slightest error can lead to ruin. Again, as I’m sure your sister can attest to.”
Rarity shuddered. “Indeed.”
“But the same holds true for families. Families trying to gain fame, trying to make the right contacts to negotiate larger deals, they must be connected to at least one pony with a good name. It’s easier build up with children than it is with adults.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”
“Think of it this way, little girl. What would you rather be: a pony who is famous for the plays she wrote, or a pony who is famous because she’s the mother of the wife of a prince?”
“Famous for writing a play, of course.”
“But what if most common ponies like your play, and somepony important hated that play?”
Sweetie Belle fell silent.
“There’s your answer. Fame by association is a very real and very powerful thing, ma petite. It is not enough to be famous: you must be famous with the right ponies. Association is easier to build up than fame by accomplishment, and once it grants you access and connections, it's a far smaller loss, should it fade by shame. After all, the shame wouldn't be yours. Family can take credit for accomplishment and blame the child for its own failure. It's a harsh system, but it persists, still, and my girls live by its rules, for better or worse. Willow isn’t that hung up on it, but Rose certainly is. And they stick together, those two. You’re not going to get an invitation to one without the other tagging along, I assure you.”
“That’s okay, I’d love to meet them both. But would they accept? Their family, I mean?”
“It would depend on what I tell them the invitation is for. What is it you want, specifically?”
Sweetie Belle looked to Rarity again, who nodded.
“Specifically, to make friends. With a pony who is looking to become a Wonderbolt one day, and who doesn’t know anypony else who does. Somepony to play with, who appreciates the value of mutual respect, of discipline. Somepony who can keep a secret.”
Swirl’s ears twitched.
Sweetie Belle smiled petulantly. “I mean, Willow and Rose, playing a Willow Faerie and a Rose Faerie? Those aren’t their real names, right?”
“Their names are perfectly ordinary. What makes you think they’re not?”
“They both cover up during their performance. You can’t see them gritting their teeth or shutting their eyes. They could have been crying on stage and no one would have seen it. Plus, you obviously think they need to be kept away from the more, umm, non-fatty? Sickly?”
Rarity thought for a moment. “Unsavoury, darling.”
“Unsavoury. They need to be kept from the more unsavoury parts of high society. So of course they don’t use their real names.”
Swirl turned to Rarity then. “You have a very astute little sister, Miss Rarity.”
Sweetie Belle would have replied, but the mare wasn’t talking to her. She couldn’t mess up now.
“Yes, she is. Am I to assume, then, that your two little stars are kept out of, ah, circulation, on purpose? For their own sake, I mean, not just their families? That was the main objection, was it not?”
It finally dawned on Sweetie Belle what the issue was: the matchmaking. Would Rumble even be allowed near those two fillies? He was still only a commoner, after all. Diamond’s mom liked him enough, but was it right to mention that here?
“Currently, yes. Their family doesn’t want them out in the open, but they do need the practice. I’ve been meaning to put them out there for some time; other ponies have been asking for weeks, and after tonight’s stunt I’m going to start running out of excuses. You must understand, I take good care of the fillies in my class. I never let them consort with a boy unless I am absolutely certain of his pedigree.”
Sweetie Belle looked up at her sister again.
“She means that it's very easy for a girl to fall in with the wrong crowd if she's trying to make the right connections. Some boys take unfair advantage of that.”
Swirl chuckled. “Never mind the boys, Miss Rarity. The girls are worse. Boys make offence a case of honour, of directness. You see them coming, and they'll follow a code. Boys in these circles follow rules. Girls, however, have no such compunctions. Well, except the little fencers, of course, but we all know how they settle their affairs. The bottom line is: I don't let my dancers anywhere near a boy that might manipulate them, or one they might manipulate. Fine, upstanding young stallions, that is all. Anything less and the families would have my head.”
“Oh, okay. You’d want to meet my friend before you let him meet Rose and Willow?”
Swirl smiled, thinking. “I suppose, seeing as you’re only looking for another high-level pegasus, if Willow were to meet another pegasus of equal stature, it wouldn't require any intervention from me, especially if it’s only a social call. I’ll take your word on it, and your sister’s. I’m sure Rose wouldn’t mind terribly, either. I’ll pass on the message for you. Just name the time and place you'd wish to meet.”
“Umm...” Sweetie Belle hesitated.
“My atelier would be fine,” Rarity said. “Any moment that is convenient for them. You know Canterlot Boutique, yes?”
Swirl nodded with an impish smile. “The home of the Princess Dress and that lovely Luna ensemble. I know where it is, darling. I'll be sure to send my little performers your way.”
“Thank you very much,” Sweetie Belle said.
“You are most welcome, little girl. I should hope they rub off on each other in a good way.”
Stats
Page generated in 0.03 seconds
Total duration
672 users online
1,065,994 hits today, 2,054,621 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
That face makes me think of the Japanese "tsundere" architype
7321519
It was something I whipped up on short notice, since I still have the bases from my animation attempts. Trust me, he'll be making that face in-story soon.
Oh ho. This is going to very interesting. I don't see many high society stories on Fimfiction, but I always end up liking them. I especially love your interpretation of post-mark Sweetie Belle always analyzing, looking for bits of inspiration she can incorporate into her own work. Rarity as on-the-spot etiquette coach is also very nice.
In all, this looks like it's going to be a great capstone to the trilogy. Whatever comes of this, it's almost certain to shock Rumble out of his current funk.
Well girls, if you still feel Rumble's not being open enough, you could try spending a day at the races with him; at the very least it should increase the chances of him slipping some critical information.
7321879
That's the thing, though: he's too young to race. If he could do that at all, he wouldn't be having this problem.
And yes, there is a racing club coming. The point does get repeated in this story.
7321932 I'd think not too young to be an spectator
(where I live, the big race(s) of the year at least are open to all public).
7322030
Fine idea. Not too far off future events, even. But yeah, that would be a little bit too easy, no?
7322900
It makes sense in context, trust me.
This story is a lot better with integrating the head-canon dump into the actual story rather than just belching it out. Like Sweetie Belle figured out, there's not much telling in storytelling.
7325649
Not sure I'm reading this comment right. Is this story better than the previous ones, or better than just the second one? Or is it better compared to other stories currently published on the site? Or is it worse, because it's focused on Sweetie Belle, and she does a lot of verbal thinking?
7325684 It's better than your previous stories because the explanation of pony sociology is more naturally weaved into the plot, rather than someone asking "why are things this way" and someone else answering.
7326023
Ah. Thanks, good to know I'm improving
Yay! More of Rumble!
Woah, now that's a start to this.
Poor Rumble, you'll never be safe from the CMC now that they know and have an interest in you. Of course, that may or may not be a good thing.
Hmn, yet another suggestion that something more may be going on with Rumble and his stallionness. I had somewhat assumed that the stallion thing was purely related to the Wind Rider issue as revealed at the end of the previous story, but maybe that was only part of it.
It's good to be prepared, AJ, you should understand.
Hehehe, they'll be lucky if Scootaloo ever stops flying, at least for the next little while.
Huh. Well, that does make Pinkie Pie sense.
Whatever they're going to inflict on Rumble this story, I hope it comes with a lesson on how to have fun.
The new and improved Diamond Tiara. And invitation only party, but pretty much any pony who shows interest gets an invite.
Huh, now that just raises some very specific questions about the exact origins of unicorns.
Diamond Tiara's mother needs to be restricted from having influence over pretty much anyone at all.
Also, Scootaloo from attempting to rescue anyone, pretty much ever.
Now that's got to be a pain for live performances in Equestria, at any given moment something like a third of the audience has the magic to interfere with what is going on with basically no warning.
Heh.
Ahh, so that's why we got to meet Diamond's Canterlot high society friends back in the first story.
Interesting place for that scene cutaway.
The rules of high society conversation are complicated. And good lord is Fancy Pants imposing from a little filly's perspective.
Interesting.
Complicated conversation rules or not, Sweetie seems to be doing well at it. Pretty interesting details about pegasi showmanship and the various methods of practicing for it.
Well, that worked, Sweetie. Now to see Rumble's reaction, not to mention the response from Willow and Rose.