A Lady Fit for Royalty

by Fillyfoolish

The Love Sickness

A few weeks of giggling, lovestruck Sparkle later, I sat alone in my workspace on a Friday night, sewing an expedite-order lacy purple dress for a mail-order client. I would have wished to defer to Monday, but my eyes were wide awake beside the candlelight. Business calls – the little sacrifices we make for our livelihood. The large ones for our art.

Needle in, needle out, the zen state of flow within me, zoning out and zoning in as the threads bundled into creation. Needle in, needle out, a poetry of dressmaking, a music a la mode, and a painting of th–

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I dropped my needle, the magic aura of concentration broken by bullets pounding on my door. Why in Equestria anyone would come over this late is a mystery. It could be a solicitor, but marketing door-to-door this time at night is simply uncouthe, I tell you. The new generation of Equestria at play. I sighed, intent on resuming sewing wh–

Tap! Tap! Tap!

For the love of Celestia, how hard is it to get some peace and quiet around Ponyville, in my own private home, to simply get a little work done? I realize I am not the only pony in the city, but seriously!

¡TAP! ¡TAP! ¡TAP!

A familiar feminine voice screamed, fright fraught with sadness, and my stomach dropped. “Raaaarity!”

I dropped the dress and galloped to the door, unlocking and swinging it open to reveal none other than Princess Twilight Sparkle.

The Princess, in dire straights, laying out curled up on the cold winter ground outside the Boutique, head staring at the floor of the door, hind legs dug into the snow bank beside the pavement. The Princess, forehooves outstretched to punch through the door the minute I swung it open. The Princess, overdressed in shoddy makeup, now a coloured river streaming down her muzzle leaving misty trails behind.

The Princess. My best friend.

At the sight, I swore my heart shattered then and there, and to this day, glass shards remain outside my Boutique door, so do be careful where you trot.

Needlessly I asked, “Twilight, are you okay?”

She looked up at me, and the hurt in her eyes told me all I needed to know, eyes that lost their specular spark of optimism, eyes that lost their shine. Pleading eyes, muddy eyes, dying eyes. Her vocal cords on the verge of snapping, she croaked, “No.”

No.

No. No, please could she have any other word but No., but no, ’twas no and nothing more.

I bent down so my face was on her level, stretched my hoof and beckoned her to the warm inside. “Come in, please,” I urged. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

To tell the truth, I hadn’t the foggiest idea what this is, but as I saw her sigh and swallow, I knew those were words she needed to hear, the words I needed to say. Wobbly, she raised herself up and trotted in, with great resistance – walking through the jelly aether into my home. By instinct or desire, I could not say, but she led herself to the couch in the front room, and plopped down, curled up against the fabric cushions, and cried.

My chest heavy, I sat beside her, in silence at first. Silence broken by her tears, silence broken by my whimpers. I wasn’t sure if I was helping or hurting, but she was hurting, so what could I do but finally ask, “Twilight, dearest, please, what’s going on?”

Twilight sniffled. “You know how Time Tur– how Doctor Hooves and I were together?”

Oh dear. “Yes?”

“Well, we’re… not anymore.”

Oh dear indeed. “I’m so sorry, darling.” I outstretched my hooves to her, offering a simple hug. She responded not just by hugging but… enveloping herself in me? She lunged within her seat into my hooves, yes, and rested her head against my shoulder. Then and only then did her sniffles escalate to waterworks.

I allowed my hooves to wrap around her, a safety blanket of physical contact. “You’re okay,” I whispered to empty ears, my words inaudible next to her creaking. I did my best to focus on Twilight – my friend – and not the fact that she was pressed up against me and there were no shortage of ways this could end poorly.

Did I mention the room was hot? It must have slipped my mind. Funny, too; it was winter with a broken thermostat, and I was melting.

In between sobs, Twilight let out, “Yeah – well – we had this – this date.” She rubbed her eyes, pausing to open the aqueducts behind her irises. “We had this date planned for tonight. At a restaurant in Ponyville?”

A. A date. Some date it must have been, and I trembled to find out why.

“Except. Except it wasn’t really a date. And he wasn’t asking me out. And he. He just came to tell me. To tell me that he… He… He didn’t…”

Oh. Oh no. This was going to be a long night, wasn’t it.

You know what the legends say: some hurts never go away.

What could I say, to make things better? Nothing I could think of, nothing including what I did say, a meek declaration of “I’m sorry.”

Twilight bawled, head buried into my shoulder as we hugged. “What do I do wrong Rarity? How could I have screwed this up so bad? We were only together a few weeks, and he already doesn’t want to be with me! This is all my fault!”

I wrapped my hooves together awkwardly, tightening within. If I can’t be strong for myself, I must still be strong for my dear friend. “Sometimes it isn’t you,” I said. “Sometimes it’s just him.”

And sometimes?

Sometimes it’s me.

“I guess.” Twilight sniffled. “But. I’m just.” She hung her head. “I’m unlovable, Rarity.”

“Hey,” I whispered straight into her ear, interconnected. “You’re not unlovable.”

“I’m not?” Twilight asked, as curious as incredulous.

“You’re not. I promise.”

Twilight bit her lip. “How can you be so sure?” Strained, she said, “He doesn’t love me.”

Yes, I suppose that much was clear to both of us. But I could be sure. “Because,” I leaned in to whisper once more at her. “I love you.”

I felt awfully rosy in the cheek region, if you follow, but these are sacrifices we make for loving friendship. Friendship.

As I spoke these words, she was still sniffling, and it still pained me to listen to the hurt waves echoing from the depths behind her eyes. Yet for the first time that evening, I saw a sliver of a smile creep onto her lips, in deep contrast to the frown painted across her eyes. “I love you, too, Rarity.” She sort of looked at me, with that indecipherable look of someone two standard deviations above your intelligence, the look where you’re not sure if you’re being seen or merely analyzed as a specimen. “You’re my… my… You’re my best friend.”

I strained to smile, uncomfortable with the declaration, yet ever proud. That title, even if it were all I could ever manage, that title would justify the struggle in and of itself, no? It was a title I earned, after all, in so much as anyone else earned it.

I’ve never liked the phrase “best friend”, so competitive, so hierarchical, so selective, so impossible.

I’ve always craved the phrase “best friend”, and here I am carrying her – it – so what can I say?

I don’t suppose I really could have been Twilight’s best friend. She was a princess, and I was a nobody. To her, I suppose I was a somebody, but still, she was a paragon. She deserved a mare infinitely better than I could ever be for her best friend.

She deserved a real lady. Not an impostor like me.

Not someone who crept her way up the social ladder to be seen and to be loved, always pining after success if only to distract from her loneliness.

Her.

Her.

Now there is a word I struggle with.

Her. Best friend. So perfect. So wonderful. So impossible. Such craving.

Her best friend.

So deep into the wishes of my heart and so far off from anything I could earn with my own merit. But could I deny that in such a state of catastrophe, Twilight came to me of all ponies.

Yes. Yes, I could. I was the always the romantic of the group, and it was without a doubt my fault that she entered the relationship prematurely to begin with, so undoubtedly those tears on my bloodied conscious. How I earn the label “best friend” after hurting her – indirectly, I suppose – I can never understand.

But how I earned the label “lady” after climbing way here, I could never tell you.

Ignoring the torrents, I said the only words natural in reply. “You’re my best friend, too, dearest Twilight.”

Twilight was mollified, if only until the instant she confessed, “I just. I don’t know, Rarity.”

“Know what?”

“I don’t know how any of this could have happened. I did everything you told me to, Rarity.” She tapped her hooves, as if to enumerate the list. “I was nice and polite, and I’m smart, and I listened when he talked about… whatever he talked about…”

“If I may ask, what did you talk about?”

“Um.” Twilight stared off. “Science. Mathematics. Magic theoretic properties of the usual. You know. Light conversation?”

There we have it, I suppose, the problem illuminated with no solution in sight. A problem I could pretend to recognize and diagnose from my own experiences. A problem I’ve seen in many a protagonist, but Twilight was my protagonist.

Platonically, of course.

I frowned. “Did you two ever talk about anything else? Anything not related to your work?”

Twilight strained, her eyes darted up to a corner as she walked through memories. “There was that one time when he was wearing a hat, but he took it off. Later in the evening, he lost the hat, and we tried to find it together. Like that?”

Curiosity did get the better of me, I confess. “…Did you find it?”

She chuckled a bit, quietly, empty, as if the vibration of the chortle bounced through her chest but there was nothing left to vibrate, all substance drained out in hours prior. Still, a fondness remained despite the heartbreak. “It was in his saddlebag.”

Always the little things, with the bookish types, hmm. I sighed. “You see that?”

“What?”

“That… casual bonding?”

“Mm?”

“That is a foundation of relationships,” or so I read, remember, recite. “It’s great that you shared interests about science, but if that’s all you share…”

Overshadowing realization dawned on her as a cloud of darkness as she finished my sentence. “…That makes us coworkers, not lovers.”

I nodded solemnly, and she furled up her brow. “Oh.” Just a simple oh and nothing else.

I hesitated to respond, brewing a silence. Not an uncomfortable silence, no, but still. A silent stillness.

Yet in the silence there was discomfort, or comfort, or a messy mix of emotions as the two of us remained embracing, physical touch uniting us, the smell of Twilight overtaking me in absence of her words.

The sense of her. The sense of belonging. The sense of me, ceasing loneliness for the first time.

But why ever do my thoughts falter? I am a lady, and so is she, and that puts an end to it, or so they say.

I am a lady, and she is emotionally vulnerable, heartbroken by that ruffian and now under repair as it were. Even if she did like me that way, it could never happen, not ever, but especially not now.

Twilight was first to break the silence. “I don’t get it, Rares.”

“Hmm?”

“You know so much about romance, and I know so little.” She blinked. “How did I end up with a coltfriend and you didn’t?”

Because I’m a hopeless wreck with crippled self-esteem and a vague history of codependency issues? Because I’ve spent my life searching for Mr. Right when she’s been standing beside me for years? Because I’m obsessed so dearly with the notion of “ladyhood”, a ladyhood I may never and in all probability will never attain, yet that still drives my every word, my every thought, my every action. I shrugged. “That’s fate, I suppose.”

“I just…” Twilight scrunched her muzzle. “This is so not fair!”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve said so many times that having a coltfriend is super good! But this is just so unfair and so complicated, and not in a good way, not like calculus is complicated!”

She had a point there, I admit. “I…”

“I just.” Twilight furled up her brow. “I don’t understand why I need to love a stallion when I already have so many wonderful friends I love.”

That’s simple, social customs for a lady dictate that a stallion must always be present in your life to provide legitimacy to your ladyhood.

Or so I’ve told myself over the years.

I admit she did have a point, did she not? Though I can’t believe Twilight of all ponies is the one giving me romantic advice. She was the one who fell. And scraped her lovestruck knees on the way down. Still more than I’ve managed.

Ladyhood is too complicated.

“Hmm!” I chirped.

Twilight shrugged. “I don’t know. I love Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash, but I’m not in love with them. And I love Applejack and Pinkie Pie and…” She trailed off, her eyes mouths of little rivers. “And…” She stared down at the floor for a moment, perhaps contemplating, perhaps spacing out. Tears streaming ever faster with every word, she said the three magic words sending shivers through me. “I love you so much, Rarity, for Celestia’s sake, I think I love you more than I could ever love a stallion or anypony, and this is stupid, Rarity, you’re already like a sister I’ve never had, so why am I bothering with a stallion when I have…” She paused, eyes wet and heavy, continuing only in a whisper, “When I have you, Rarity.”

We were friends hugging throughout her proclamation. As she cried, she was already pressed up against my fur; I could feel the pulse of her body heat mixing with mine. When she knocked on my door in tears, I was prepared for anything she might say to me. I thought I was prepared for anything she might do.

I was not prepared for her face to smush up against mine in that moment.

She punctuated her crying monologue with a kiss on my lips. Well. Loosely speaking, it was less of a kiss and more of a facial collision with my lip and tongue movement, but given her emotional state it would pass for a kiss. Looking back, I suppose it really wasn’t the best kiss I’ve ever received, but at the time, au contraire, stars above, here was Princess Twilight Sparkle with her lips on mine.

I swear I could taste apple cider on her lips. I could certainly taste love, and wonder.

In other circumstances I might admit to that being my first kiss. But stars above, a kiss from Twilight Sparkle of all ponies! Perfection bottled and…

And this is wrong. No. Rarity, you are lady, and she is your friend.

I brushed over my raging interior emotions with a stoic blank face, focusing only on breaths in and breaths out. Never betray your ladyhood, Rarity, never betray.

But oh, there was simply so much worth betraying! Her lips on mine were stars twinkling in my soul; her smile was all the sunshine I would ever need to be happy even throughout an alicorn lifetime. Ladyhood is wonderful, I maintain, but Twilight Sparkle is simply divine.

But ladyhood would have to win out today, as it always has and always will. There is no place for Twilight Sparkle – my friend, a mare – in a slot that ladies must reserve for a stallion.

Ladies like me, most of all. If only I had been born with fabric instead of a sewing needle, if only. What simplicity that would bring – to be accepted as a lady for simply existing, never having to prove myself.

I would never know what that’s like, would I? Every day’s a fight to be a lady – to be seen as a lady by every other lady, and especially every other stallion. Some ladies are born, and some ladies are made. What choice do I have but to be made?

I can never know what it’s like to be like lady Twilight Sparkle, born with a fabric that matched her coat.

Yet here I am, her lady friend – no, not her ladyfriend but a friend who happens to fancy herself a lady – and I’ll never be able to sew that fabric either.

Pardon the implication; my mind betrays me. While busy losing myself within the feeling of her lips on mine, she pulled away from the kiss and to the hug not a millisecond later, immediately Twilighting out. “Oh my gosh, no, oh my gosh, no, oh my gosh, no! What the ponyfeathers, no, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, oh my Celestia, I’m so sorry. That was terrible, Rarity, I’m so sorry. Consent is super important; I’m such a terrible pony, agh! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’ll show m–”

I brought my hoof to her lips – only seconds later and there I was touching her lips again, forward even by my standards – silencing her immediately. She only grew pinker with the contact, but what was I to do? Simply stand there idly while she berated herself? Twilight Sparkle, if you want to see a terrible pony, look in front of you, not the mirror. You are a light in my life and the lives of everypony around you, and… I’m talking to myself. Again.

Holding her lips and staring into her eyes, I prayed that I wouldn’t lose myself in them and make a train wreck out of my thought. “Twilight, calm down. I’m not mad at you.”

I released my hoof, and Twilight mellowed, her red glow disintegrating but still visible. She tilted her head, like a puppy caught stealing cookies. “You’re not?”

I wasn’t mad, no. Rather the opposite of the scale, if we really must be blunt. Something near the vicinity of giddy and head over hooves falling. Perhaps I ought to have been a little mad about losing my ladyhood, but nothing is lost if nothing has been done. This little hiccup we would forget in time and forgive immediately.

Yet there’s that nagging thought.

I didn’t want to forget this hiccup.

To be crass, that moment I cherished, however brief, however mistaken, however forbidden. I don’t want to say that was forbidden love – but it was, between a lady and her newly broken up friend I don’t want to say it was meaningless – it meant the world to me, and given the amount of profanity flying out of her mouth, it must have meant little less to Twilight beside me.

I didn’t want to say I wanted to repeat it, but on some level, I suppose I did.

That then was my chance. If I had been waiting, that then was the time I could – shall we say? – sew my wild threads together.

But I was a lady. I don’t merely mean a Canterlot lady, paragon of heteronormativity, although at the time I lament I must have been her too. No, I was a lady, and a lady above all cares for her friends.

What sort of lady – what sort of friend – would take advantage of a friend hours after breaking up with her first real ex? I don’t see anything wrong with starting a relationship with someone after a few months, but hours after? I refuse to demote myself to a rebound buddy.

Still, would it be so bad, my one – possibly only – chance with the princess of my dreams?

I think I sighed, or swallowed my pride.

Yes.

Yes, it would.

“I understand you’re emotional, Twilight, but it isn’t like I don’t have embarrassing anecdotes of my own.” A former life flashed before me, a former life I squashed down to focus on a life crumbling around me in the present. “Just remember the little things. Deep breaths will make a world of a difference.”

Twilight closed her eyes and inhaled, repeating, “Deep breaths.”

“And apple cider,” I tagged on nonchalantly.

She peaked open one eye half-way, furling up adorably. A little nasally, she asked, “Apple cider?”

“Oh, it’s something Applejack once said to me many years ago.” I felt the memories of an adolescence blurred into another life sweep me away. “The foundation of a clear mind and a clear body are deep breaths and apple cider,” I recited. “In hindsight, I don’t think she meant the cider sold to fillies our age. Legally, anyhow.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, a small smile slipping through the disapproval. “Rarity…”

“What?” I lowered my gaze, and I ought to have lowered the pitch of my voice, but I was too fearful of the change in acoustics if I had. “Do you think we should try that? Oh, I’m afraid I don’t stock any sort of cider when it’s not in season, but I could brew us some apple rhubarb herbal tea, served with cinnamon perhaps?”

She cracked a smile. “That’s alright, Rares.”

“Deep breaths, then.”

She obeyed, and I noticed her chest rise and fall to the beat of an invisible tune of tranquility. “Thank you, Rarity.”

I smiled. “Hey. It’s what friends are here for.”

“Thank you for being the best friend I could wish for, Rarity.”

“And thank you for the same, Twilight.”

Twilight mumbled, hugging herself with her hooves a little distant. Noticing the gesture, I outstretched my own hooves towards her, and she gladly threw herself into me, inundating me with a warmth I forced myself to ignore. The deed was done, I missed my chance – if there was a relationship to be had, that was relegated to the past of five minutes prior.

But I do suppose as a platonic friend there was nothing wrong with enjoying platonic warm fuzzies to their fullest, and what warmth there was to enjoy by her side! I felt myself feel warmer than the warm fuzzies, especially in the fabric-and-needle region, shall we say?

But little compromising facts I can ignore with ease.

I’ve built my life ignoring tiny details that could ruin me in the eyes of Canterlot snobbery. What they don’t know can’t hurt me.

Twilight yawned. “Tired, darling?”

Twilight grimaced. “Getting dumped is exhausting.” I stared at her softly, chuckling ever so softly, and she joined in. Sometimes the irony of our own situations is the finest comedy.

The irony would have been lost on her, of course.

“Hey, Twilight?” I asked.

“Yeah?”

“Could I promise you something?”

“Mm?” She perked up, the promise of a promise ever alluring.

I regarded her with contented pride of an elder, and promised, “You’re going to be okay.”

She smiled weakly, still strained but with the faint trace of belief glimmering in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “That means a lot coming from you all of ponies.”

I scoffed playfully. “Me, of all ponies? And just what is that supposed to mean, missy?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “It means I really care about you, you silly pony!”

“Uh-huh.” I grinned, outstretching my hoof to boop her nose.

My, did Twilight have a soft nose. Not that I’ve known terribly many ponies with noses that, er, weren’t soft, nor have I touched the nose of all that many ponies altogether, but Twilight’s was exceptionally soft.

With the press of my hoof against her, I notice her glow a faint red. I suppose that is progress.

Not that there is an end goal to be progressing towards of course. Ladyhood, friendship, Plato, etcetera.

“Hey, Rarity?” she chirped, her voice shaken.

“Mm?”

“Would you mind if I, umm…” Her cheeks flushed as her words trailed off, and I gently prodded for her to continue after a distracted pause. Quickly and softly, her words flying like bullets, she asked, “Would you mind if I stayed the night?”

I blinked. Stay the night? Of course she could stay the night – the darling could stay for life if she so desired. But such I thought I shouldn’t vocalize, not yet anyway; I couldn’t let a stray pawn betray my queen within. In my hesitation, she elaborated quickly, eyes white, “Ponyville can be scary alone at night. So, um, do you think you would mind…?”

And so it was settled. I wrapped my her hooves around her affectionately, if not intimately, and whispered, “Not at all, darling. Not at all.”

Comments

[Argentyros]

A very important set of inner monologue revealed facts. So many things that go into how Rarity defines "lady", some big, some little, some just plain wrong (from our perspective).

[Fillyfoolish]

10004610
I'd go a step further and say your comment summarizes this story's interpretation of Rarity well :) Thank you for reading!

[SigmasonicX]

Great chapter! I was expecting the romance with Dr. Hooves to be an ongoing thing in this story, so I didn't expect things to jump forward. Rarity's narration of the scene was great. Among the Rarity-narration genre (shrug), I don't think I've seen a story where she's this unsure of herself, and you handle it really well while keeping her in-character. And with this chapter, we start getting more explicit hints about why Rarity is so obsessed with being ladylike.

[Fillyfoolish]

10007132
Thank you! I was expecting to drag the Dr. Hooves romance on longer too (and maybe if I do a v2 of this story, that can be retconned in) but there's not much "interesting" going on there, esp. from Rarity's perspective? I'm not sure; this is my first proper multichapter so pacing is a little wacky. Uncertainty is always fun, since it means you get tension just from the narration itself ... no shortage of things to write about if Rarity can spend pages spiraling and it remains nominally legible. And yes, the cat's out of the bag now.

[Ice Star]

The Princess, in dire straights, laying out curled up on the cold winter ground outside the Boutique, head staring at the floor of the door, hind legs dug into the snow bank beside the pavement. The Princess, forehooves outstretched to punch through the door the minute I swung it open. The Princess, overdressed in shoddy makeup, now a coloured river streaming down her muzzle leaving misty trails behind.

'Straights' should be 'straits' unless Rarity is trying for some kind of wordplay.

[Fillyfoolish]

10022949
Pkft, trying? I rather think I'm succeeding, dear!

[Ice Star]

10022972
Oh, totally!

[PresentPerfect]

Who needs shipping when you have romance? :D