A Remembering
As Rarity measured out the tea leaves, she heard an faint mewing from upstairs. The soothing aroma that rose from her work helped her contemplate what she had learned. Spike was not doomed, rather he was blessed. Sir Fancypants thought he had a great future ahead of him if he chose wisely. Although it was hard to believe some of the old stallion's claims, she knew they had to be true. In her adventures with Twilight and the other girls, she had already seen many things that were hard for a small-town fashionista to accept. The idea that a seasoned globetrotter had walked through the dream-city of the ancient dragons was... fanciful, but not beyond possibility. She wondered what exactly would be too much for her to believe.
One thing was certain. She believed in Spike. She believed that he had a noble little heart inside him, even if he was just as fallible as her. Yet she still did not know if she loved him. All the tales of romance insisted on that spark of absolute certainty, the feeling of being swept off your hooves by love, pure and perfect. Rarity put the leaves away and closed her eyes. She was old enough to know better, but young enough to wish that love was as easy as old stories and new movies made it seem. She steeped the leaves, letting them release their flavor into the hot water, and then strained them out so she could infuse the tea again. Making a good brew was a delicate process, one that should not be rushed.
Easy, Rarity. You don't have to make a decision today. No, but she did have to ask all the right questions. She knew now what Twilight's little assistant would become, and Sir Fancypants had made it clear that dragons and ponies could have fulfilling relationships. Her thoughts drifted back to that Sergeant-Prince's well muscled body, plated with beautiful scales... and a shiver passed down her spine. That warrior had lived for several centuries. The mare took down a few porcelain cups and set them on a tray with the kettle. How quickly did dragons develop? Would Spike be as small as he was now her entire life? Princess Celestia had sent her a true expert on their species. If she dared, she could have that answer today.
The designer glanced in the mirror again, and tucked a stray lock of purple hair back into her mane. Just how adaptive were dragons? Yes, she had already seen how fast he could grow when his body felt a primal urge, but Spike did not look at her like she was a sack of potatoes. He did not appraise her, gauging if she would be an acceptable outlet for his lusts. He thought she was beautiful. She smiled at her reflection. Her Spikey-wikey had an innocent sort of adoration for her. If he kept that, added to it... yes, he would be a rare catch indeed.
Well, you always did like shiny things, but are you good enough for him? Rarity turned back to the tray and snugged the coozy tight around the teapot. Little Spike was Twilight's assistant, a page who dreamed of becoming a knight. He had been raised in Canterlot, by Celestia, and seemed to know the capital like the back of his claw. What was she? A hopeful designer who kept rushing off to help her friends. The mare blushed and found she could no longer look herself in the eye. As much as she longed for a prince to sweep her off her hooves, she knew that there was very little she could offer as a spouse. She had no kingdom, no treasury, and knew all too well how quickly her beauty would fade. The fact that she had built her business with nothing more than hard work and talent slipped her memory. Fear began to swirl in her mind like the leaves in her teapot.
Now that she thought back, was it pure coincidence that she had bumped into Sir Fancypants that day in Canterlot? Was that another test of her character, a test she had come so terribly close to failing? Was she failing this test? Her eyes swung to the kitchen window. For a moment, Rarity felt the fear winning. She could leave pony society, flee into the rock wastes, and become Empress of the Diamond Dogs again. It would not be so hard, a few good wails and the discovery of a gem deposit or two...
Rarity closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. No. That was not an option. It would spell ruination for her mane. More than that, she knew there was a little dragon who would come searching for her, thinking her kidnapped again. He would always follow her, as long as it did not conflict with his first duty. No wonder he and Rainbow Dash had become fast friends, they both understood loyalty. The mare opened her eyes and curled a lock of her mane with a hoof. Maybe she was being too hard on herself. Celestia had not laughed her out of Equestria for that letter, and the veteran in the other room considered her worth his time. Most importantly, Spike cared for her. Perhaps it was just a boyish crush, but all love had to start somewhere. Even so, did she have an answering call in her own heart for him? She picked up the tray in the glow of her horn, and looked at herself in the mirror again.
The dress must be stitched first, then the gown could be measured for. Rarity walked back out of the kitchen with a calm smile. Would he mature in body to match his mind, and how would she know if this was true love. Those were her questions, but they were not the only things on her mind.
He's almost a prince, Rarity. Everything you ever wanted... if you're willing to reach out for it. But you'd better be sure that he's the one, because this is the rest of your life you're talking about. She swallowed hard, thinking of how those little golden flecks had spun away before Sir Fancypants' breath. One way or another, till death do you part.
The designer gently set the tray on the table, trying not to stare at the spot where those flecks had landed. The stallion had cleaned up his visual aid while she was preparing the tea, but their absence from the floor only underlined his point. She took a deep breath, and poured a cup for her guest.
"Ah, thank you." He sipped at the brew. Noticing the distracted look in her eyes, the old stallion took control of the conversation once more. "Now, Miss Rarity, I want to put your mind at ease about this sword. Its presence is purely ceremonial for today, though I assure you that it has seen just as much action as I. This is the blade I was issued all those years ago when I was promoted from an enlisted Expeditioner to an officer. At the time, I was serving with a very... focused, subgroup of the Corps. A sword is a very personal weapon, but the sword of an Expeditioner all the more so."
The old soldier slowly drew his blade, and angled it to catch the light. "Ready as ever, hmmm. Each one of these is custom-forged, part of a tradition that goes all the way back to the very first Summer Sun Celebration." He stepped back from the table and wrapped the hilt in the glow of his magic, while still holding it with a fetlock. It was a double-sure grip that let him add the strength of his body to the sureness of his mind. "To some, a blade is just a weapon, a tool, a means of destruction, a font of power. Ah, but this sword, and all its kin, were made for a greater purpose."
Light fell through a window as the sun peeked out from behind a cloud. It flickered off the blade, casting a golden rainbow over the boutique. The metal seemed to melt and flow, soaking up some mystical energy as it reflected the sunlight. Rarity reached out with a hoof and let the golden rays tickle her fur. If she had turned to look, she would have noticed that the shadow she cast on the wall was quickly swallowed up by the light surrounding it. All that remained was a gilded silhouette.
"They are not mere weapons, but torches. Just like the one held by that statue in Manehattan." He deftly stepped through a quick drill of attack and defense, wielding the blade with the kind of skill that only comes from a lifetime of familiarity. "Torches of liberty. A light of hope, the first glimpse of dawn in utter darkness. We carry other weapons, but these blades never fail. Be it cutting through a jungle, chipping away at an iceberg, or slashing through armor."
He did not add the reason these blades were originally forged. Long ago, Celestia had feared that she would weaken, and give way to the same whispers that had felled her sister. She needed a check, a balance for her power, so she put her fate in the hooves of the finest Ponykind had to offer. To this day, she still trusted the Expeditionary Corps to treasure their liberty over their loyalty to the Crown. That was why Expeditioners' oaths of service were to the laws of Equestria, not the will of its rulers. For so long as she was worthy, for so long as she remained true to the law, they were her most loyal soldiers. If she ever fell, ever lost her mind and became a monstrous tyrant, they would be there. The Expeditionary Corps would protect her little ponies.
"I brought my sword today because pictures only prove so much." He returned the blade to its scabbard. "And, well, I wanted to show off a bit." Sir Fancypants winked. The mare did not know how lucky she was. Most who had a chance to see his skill with a blade did not survive the encounter.
"Who could blame you?" Rarity smiled, holding her warm fetlock against her cheek. Her mind felt so much clearer now, all those little doubts had scurried away for the moment. She could almost hear some faint star-secret, passed on by the reflection of sunlight across the blade, but it faded just as quickly as the heat. "It's beautiful."
"That it is." He smiled. "Now, springing to a different avenue of attack. I came to your beautiful little town to speak to you of dragons, but also of love. Do you know why I joined the military, and why I still serve?"
The mare looked down into her tea, searching for an answer that would not embarrass herself. Still, the only one she could come up with sounded horribly juvenile. "For love?"
His smile widened. "Yes. Ever since the first time I saw Her Majesty, I knew what I wanted to be. I was not born a Canterlot noble, my dear, oh no. I was born in the scrappiest down-hive crawl you ever could put eyes on." A trace of undercity brutality began to curl through his refined accent. "My mother, bless her soul, raised me by 'erself. Never saw my father. When I was just a little colt and school cut us loose, I'd walk to the candy factory a few blocks off. I'd do odd jobs, sweep the floor, anything they could pay me a few bits for. Helped us pay for paper and quills, things I needed for school, maybe a few crayons. Mother made one thing very clear, I was going to get an education. Even if it killed me." The old stallion snickered.
Rarity covered her mouth with a hoof. "Sir Fancypants, I never would have guessed. You're such a sensation in Canterlot!"
He winked at her. "Quite. I don't talk about my roots very much, and you'd be surprised what a military record and a mercenary's nest egg will make up for. That, and I have the name of a well-bred pony. My mother had high hopes for me. Oh, the fights I used to get into when I was a foal..." A smile crossed his face. He had been kicked around as a young boy, and so he learned to brawl from that brutal school of the streets. Those lessons had never left him. On the first day of close quarters combat training, he had broken the instructor's nose and three of his ribs. Oh, had he paid for that, but it was worth it. None of the other recruits dared to snicker about Fancypants after that day, even if all the instructors did their best to kick the tar out of him. He was grateful for those beatings too. The enemy never held anything back, and neither did he. "When I got my cutie mark, she was happier than a sump rat with a rotten carrot. A natural leader, I was." He sipped his tea, monocle firmly over his left eye. "But I did not know what I wanted to lead, only that I was good at it. Not 'till Celestia came to our sprawl one year to toss the sun up in the sky."
Silence reigned for a long moment. He reached out and turned back in the book, almost to the very beginning. "Ah... afraid that I couldn't afford a camera back then." He chuckled, the kind Canterlot accent once more reasserting itself. "I hope my scribblings aren't as bad as I remember them. Crayons were my luxury, they were why I worked as hard as I could at the candy factory. So I could put a little color in my life." Curiously enough, he wound up working for that same candy company later in his life when they needed a band of mercenaries.
Taped into the book was a report card. With a blush, he lifted it up to reveal a sketch of what looked like a heap of scrap, drawn with browns, greys, and one little sprig of green out front. Written above the mess was the word home. Next to it stood a stick figure with a very large smile, labeled mommy. Rarity bit her lip when she noticed that the "o" was in the shape of a heart.
"My Mother's Day gift, one year. Straight As." His cheeks were red. With a cough of embarrassment, he folded the card away once more and continued his search through the book. "Love... we only have one word for it. The dragons have many. Love of a mother, love of country, and love of a battle-brother. All so different, but we only have one word." He chuckled softly. "And we believe ourselves masters of the world... ah, here it is."
Pasted into the book was a foal's drawing of the sun, held aloft by a beautiful if misproportioned Princess. Below her stood tough looking soldiers, their swords held high and drawn as straight as might be expected of a child. The older unicorn blushed again. "I... I was a bit excited when I was drawing this, you understand." He nodded toward the macaroni art sitting next to the seamstress' glasses, "and rather young."
"It's the heart that matters." Rarity reassured him. "Everypony has a touch of creativity in his heart."
Sir Fancypants' eyes lit up. "That's just it. All of us are equal, not in gifts or in what we own, but in spirit. That's what I understood that day. Celestia didn't come to our city as some ruler who wanted to lord over her subjects. She came to us as our servant. Simple clothes, no jewelry but her crown. Real soldiers, not the palace guard. A ceremony that everypony could attend, not an exclusive event for the elite." Some elements of the Summer Sun Celebration were the same everywhere, but it was always tailored to the host city. For Canterlot, a jaw-dropping display of magic. For Ponyville, a joyous celebration with feasting and banners. For a glorified slum built atop the rubble of two others, a sublime reminder that greatness was defined by the spirit, and could come from the most humble of places. "After the ceremony, she walked with us, talked with us. We, we little rats who barely had anything to call our own. We were just as precious to her as the clean-cut stallions and mares of Canterlot."
Rarity looked again at the drawing, and saw all the things he mentioned. They were drawn with the enthusiastic emphasis only a child could produce. Celestia was white and pure, clothed in flowing robes rather than a fancy dress, with little lines sparking away from her. The soldiers wore battle armor, not enchanted gold, and their faces were stern. He had drawn them with furrowed brows and sharply defined jaws. The stallion turned the page, revealing another drawing that had been pasted into the book. This one had that same Princess, with streaks of grime on her clothes and a smile on her face. Around her crowded little foals, nuzzling into her robes or clamoring for her attention. Further away adults bowed, while shyer children peeked over their backs.
The stallion cleared his throat. "That's the real reason we have the Summer Sun Celebration. It's not to celebrate Nightmare Moon's banishment. It's to remind us of our principles. The things we all do to make sure Equestria stands for freedom, not oppression." He gently touched the drawing. "To remind her that it was worth the cost. Long ago... a lot of ponies forgot. They forgot why we fought against Discord, why Luna was banished. They thought that freedom meant they could do anything they wanted without consequence."
The mare looked up at him. Over the years the ceremony had become almost a formality, a night of revelry and rejoicing, but Rarity knew how it had sparked Twilight's hopes. Certainly the seamstress remembered that night it came to Ponyville. "Just like a designer keeps in touch with the latest trends, and the needs of her clients. Celestia wanted to connect with her subjects."
"Yes." He took a sip of tea. "When I was a young boy with security clearance... I indulged myself in reading certain things that others would find boring. The final battle with Nightmare Moon almost destroyed the older sister as well. For an entire decade after she wielded the six Elements of Harmony by herself, it was all she could do to maintain the heavenly bodies. Once a year, she would stagger out for the celebration. That chariot she now has as a formality used to be a necessity."
"But... but I've used the Elements." Rarity protested. "You feel alive after-"
"They were never meant to be channeled by only one mare." He glanced away. "I... spoke with one who fought at her side on that long night. Before she gathered the Elements, she feared that the backlash of bending them to her will might destroy her. It was the risk she had to take, for there was no other way to stop what her little sister had become." Not without killing the younger alicorn outright.
The mare thought quickly. "You talked to one of the old dragons, the ones called Heroes of Equestria?"
"Yes." He chuckled. "I spoke with many of the few who still live. They are every bit as great and terrible as the legends say. Oh, the stories I heard them tell. Many fought for the Astral Creed, but many others warred against the sisters' vision. Some opposed it for power, or for treasure... or just plain spite. Those that rallied to Celestia's banner had their own agendas. For some, power, for some, treasure... but one I spoke to had a far more worthy reason for honoring her commands." The stallion winked, and took a long sip of tea. "He was the greatest of their kind. Make no mistake though, it was not by the strength of dragons that the world was liberated from Discord. All races marched together under the banner of the Sisters Astral. It was a glorious time to be alive, and Equestrian society has never reached a higher zenith than when those two ruled together."
Rarity nursed her tea, digesting his words as best she could. A shame that she had no crumpets or scones on hoof, but it would have to be today that he came. "All races, Sir Fancypants?"
"Indeed. Why, I heard of the great Lord General Peabody Creed and his standard-bearer Sherman from those who had seen that old dog's tactical genius with their own eyes. The Lord General invented the first Sherman Russ, naturally named after his dear comrade, and we still use many of his designs today. Some claimed that he even invented a time machine, but even I think that's a bit of a stretch. Then there was the tale of a young gryphon commander whose mind far outstripped his body. He hangs in stasis now, waiting in a column of blue mist within the armory of the dream-city." Sir Fancypants lifted his cup to his mouth again.
"Waiting for what?" The mare asked.
"Ah... I cannot say, for I do not know." He took a sip. "But, I would dare to guess that he waits for the Nightbringer's command to rise. The legends say that he always loved the stars, and it was his hope to one day fly among them. After Luna's fall, he locked himself out of time in the hope that she would one day return, and lead him to the heavens. As for the Duke, I learned that long ago he led his own kind and others into battle, roaring out the rallying cry of their elite unit." Real Equestrian Heroes indeed. Sir Fancypants pondered for a moment. "He fought for the Sisters Astral, but in truth he fought for Celestia. There's something about Her Majesty. I don't know if it's the way she talks, or just the way she carries herself, but she has that aura of regality about her that nothing can take away. Even when she's completely wrong, she is so skilled with her words. Hmmm. We're all very fortunate that she's not afraid to admit a mistake." He smiled. "I think that's why so many follow her."
Rarity noticed the blush creep across his cheeks again. "That was why you joined the military, wasn't it? You saw her at the Summer Sun Celebration, and you loved her." She wondered a moment too late if that was too forward.
He furrowed his brow. "Well... no, no I couldn't say that I loved her. I loved what she stood for, the ideals she represented, the land she had forged. I loved that she truly was worthy to be our leader. I loved how she kept our land strong by spreading out her power, vesting it in our mayors, our cities, so that all the chum who swirl about Canterlot can only meddle so much in our affairs. Oh, don't look at me like that, Miss Rarity." The old soldier chuckled. "I'm a Canterlot stallion now, and I can say such things about the social parasites who lobby for corruption. Why, just the other day, I had one trying to convince me that... ah, but I am sorry. I am losing my way again." He sipped his tea. "Mmm. I began to love this country as she loved it. I wanted to protect and serve Equestria. That morning, I realized that I had not been born to watch this land decline, but to carry it further. On my back were the hopes and dreams of past generations, and generations unborn."
The designer smiled, leaning a bit closer. For the stars' sake, why was this beautiful stallion born in a slum, and that reprehensible Prince B- Rarity took a deep breath. Yes, she had seen him at social occasions since that night. Yes, she had been civil. No, he did not remember her in the slightest.
"Yes, I do love Her Majesty. I love her just as I love this country, but not as I love Fleur."
Lucky girl. "Because there are different kinds of love." The mare said quietly, feeling a bit nervous once more.
"Quite. All love requires effort, my dear. I loved my country, I wanted to see it strengthened and protected, and so I offered up my life. It was hard, brutal, and you saw how much it cost me in the end." He sloshed the dregs of tea around his cup, and swallowed hard. "I'll confess that I was a sight luckier than many. But I would do it all again, indeed, I did. After I got this new body, I formed up my little band and went back to war. I endured sights you can't imagine and horrors I could not bear to speak of, because I loved to see Equestria standing free. That is the love I have for my country, for Celestia's vision, and that is the effort it took to make that love produce something." The stallion finished his cup of tea. "Sometimes, that's how love works."
Rarity tilted the teapot down. "And Fleur?"
He laughed, but was careful not to spill tea as she poured it into his cup. "Ah, quite a different kind of love, that is. I love her because she has a beautiful heart. We've fought long and hard over little things, but there is always something special that holds us together. I've felt it before, with many other girls, but she is the only one who my heart has truly resonated with." Sir Fancypants sipped at his tea. "She tried to kill me... mmm, second time we met, I think. A communications mishap, thought I was the enemy, you know." He waved a hoof in the air, tossing such petty concerns away. "Every time after that, she knew exactly what she was doing when she came at me with a bayonet. As I said, we sometimes fight, and it does get quite intense."
"But you two do love one another... right?"
"Yes." He nodded. "Though I had to convince her of that, I'll admit. It took us a while to admit that we truly wanted to be with one another, but... well, there was something of a turning point." The old soldier cleared his throat. "I... I kept her from making a very horrible mistake, from doing something unspeakable to herself just to win a battle."
The younger mare lifted the teapot in the glow of her horn and turned her head to the side. Sir Fancypants blinked, and suddenly the cheery boutique was gone. The room was black, stone and brick, the burned-out husk of Trottingham on that cursed night. He felt the weight of his sword at his side, the pounding of his blood in his ears. He had run all this way to find her, to help her... and she was standing there, with that wretched relic in the glow of her horn, about to jam it into her heart-
"Sir Fancypants?" Rarity set the kettle down.
He blinked, and pressed a hoof against the side of his head. "Sorry. The old memories... they come back now and again."
The book's pages rustled gently, as though touched by an invisible wind. He quickly pressed down on it with a hoof. There were some images he did not wish upon anyone, least of all this young girl.
She smiled at him. "They do. You always see that horrible moment, don't you?" The mare glanced down. "But... you did something. You stopped the horror, didn't you, Sir Fancypants? You're a hero. I couldn't even watch."
The stallion leaned forward, images still flickering in the corners of his eyes. "Close. So close. You've no idea what it would have done to her, and for what? One battle?" He shook himself, trying to get rid of the tingling in his spine. "One battle, for her soul. Pride, my dear, pride and envy, and fear of loss. They make us do very, very stupid things." He paused, then began to laugh. "Ah, but here I am a hypocrite. If I didn't fear losing her, I wouldn't have gone all that way, put my neck on the line to make her see reason." The stallion took a sip of tea. "And then I'd be dead, along with everypony else there."
"Was that when the two of you knew it had to be love?" Rarity asked gently, a smile playing across her face. It sounded so beautiful, like a poem almost.
The reality had been far less picturesque. "Yes. Yes it was." They had kissed. He had coughed blood into her mouth, she had apologized for almost killing him again, and he had assured her all was forgiven. "But, that's not what kept the love, that was just what proved it. We both had to work, because love takes a lot of work. It costs time, and it means putting aside some of your own desires for your love, just as she does for you. It means honoring that commitment the two of you made, and knowing that commitment was the right thing to do. That's our secret, at least. You have to be willing to be with your love forever. Through sickness and health, in riches or poverty, through hades and back again. Yes, it'll be hard sometimes, but it'll be hard because of what life throws in your path, not because your love is dulling your blade behind your back." The stallion spread his hooves on the table, then looked her right in the eye. "You have to realize what a commitment means. Love isn't bliss, it's a beautiful work of art. Two souls on one canvas, if you will. You'll have a wonderful life together if the two of you are right, but if not..."
"If not, it's not a collaboration, it's a designed-by-committee dress." The seamstress finished.
"Exactly." He chuckled. "I met many beautiful mares before Fleur. After a while, I stopped getting attached, because... well, I seem to be bad luck for those I think I could share my life with. Fleur is tough enough to weather my bad luck. That was not enough on its own, though. We had some horrible disagreements, she and I, but we always got through them together. Because real love, the kind Fleur and I have, breaks sometimes. But it's worth fixing, because it's more than an emotion. It's more than a rush, or a feeling, or a buzz when you kiss. It's..." He frowned, the words eluding him. "It's like a battle, really. You have to know what you're fighting for, and why it's worth the fight. It's an adventure, a refuge, and a heavy responsibility." The stallion took a sip of tea. "And it's not for everyone. There's a type of love that seems true, but when it's tested, it falls apart."
The mare swallowed hard.
"That's why you must test it before you commit, my dear. Like Fleur and I, our love was tested many times before we ever had a chance to wed. That's what proved it true, proved it was more than a rush or a feeling. Now, sometimes, when you test love, you find it's not true. And that's the type of love you have to let pass by." A tear formed in his left eye. "Hrmm... I mean to say, it's better if that love was left on a perfect pillar, untouched and unspoiled." The stallion sipped at his tea. Unspoiled. Yes, death preserved such fond memories so very well. He could still see their faces. Especially hers, his first true love. The old soldier set his jaw and forced a smile. "All I can tell you is that real love takes far more work than the cinema lets on, but it is so very worth it."
There was silence, for a moment. "Real love is, isn't it?" She smiled into her cup. "It's so much work, but the love makes it easier. You don't notice the effort quite so much, because you're not focusing on it. You're focusing on the reward."
"I think you've seen an example or two of that yourself, my dear." Sir Fancypants smiled. "But, ah, we could be here forever talking about love, and I'm just an old Expeditioner." He reached out for his book. "Besides, I'm throwing all this at you like one of those sniveling professors. Love can't be taught, but if you pay attention you can avoid bashing your nose into walls already sticky with blood, mmm?"
Rarity nodded. "Quite. Oh, and thank you, Sir Fancypants. I know this isn't easy... well, I mean, I know you don't talk about these things with just anypony."
"You, my dear," he winked, "are far more than just anypony. You're a bright spark of generosity."
The mare blushed.
"Besides, I need to pass on what I can before my time's up. Oh, Fleur has no intention of letting me go, don't worry about me." He chuckled. "Mmm, Fleur used to teach foals, did you know? Worked at an orphanage, when she wasn't off battling monsters and dispelling unruly transcendents. I'm no great teacher, though. I'm just the messenger boy." He idly raised his hoof a few centimeters into the air, and the book rose to follow like a charmed snake. "Down."
The book obeyed quickly enough that Rarity wondered if it had all been her imagination. With a shake of her head, she thought about his words. He was more than a messenger boy. Sir Fancypants was everything, except available. He was a happily married stallion. Judging by the almost fatherly way he looked at her, extremely happily married. Now, to ask if Spike would mature to become such a wonderful fellow before her own mane turned grey. The designer's thoughts drifted to her purple dragon, making him a few decimeters taller and a little more wise in the ways of the world. On instinct, she added a clean shirt, new shoes, a silk suit, oh, and a black tie... another blush crept across her cheeks, but it was not from embarrassment. The thought of such an outfit brought another question to her mind.
"Ah, Sir Fancypants, how well do dragons mingle among high society?"
The stallion tossed one last glare at his book, then smiled up at her. "Oh, well, I think you've little to worry about there. Most dragons don't have dancing lessons from the time they can walk, or know how to play the piano." He winked. "Mine grew up in an environment that could make a berserker out of a bunny rabbit, and preferred the ancient music of his race."
Rarity smiled. "The harp?"
Sir Fancypants chuckled, careful not to spill his tea. "Goodness, no. That boy could play a guitar like he was ringing a bell. It only got worse when our Communications Officer hooked his amp into her Voxcaster. He could flatten buildings." The stallion pressed a hoof against his forehead. "As I said, love takes more than a feeling. You have to compliment one another." He groaned softly. "Though my ears wouldn't have minded if they had complemented each other a little less."
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2772094 My bad, but I haven't read it yet. I've been kind of busy.
Every part of Fancy Pants is written so intricately that it could sell the story alone, but at the same time never needed to.
Ah, the girl who tries to skewer on her blade... takes me back.
That bit at the end made me laugh. It gave me a mental image of a soldier dragon shipped with Vinyl Scratch!
Also, the whole story was done so well. Looking forward to how it ends.
...So the ancient music of dragons...
is rock and roll.
GO JOHNNY GO!!!!!
Well, for my money, you can make this as long as you like, it's all good stuff!
Not long winded or boring at all. Very interesting and fascinating everything Fancypants has told Rarity and everything thats gone on so far.
Take as long as you need; make it as long as you need. I'll keep reading.
Gotta wonder if all this is foreshadowing/build up for another story where Spike and Rarity are on an adventure or something. After all...
I'd read it.
The world of your Equestira sounds like it deserves a book on its own...
Fancypants is awesome
>>>"They were never meant to be channeled by only one mare." He glanced away. "I... spoke with one who fought at her side on that long night. Before she gathered the Elements, she feared that the backlash of bending them to her will might destroy her.>>>
*Alondro applauds in a standing ovation* Finally, someone else who realizes just how dangerous it would have been for Celestia to force the Elements to obey her, with her heart breaking, internal harmony in ruins...
This is why the Bearers could cleanse NMM; they were using the Elements as they were meant to be weilded, in unity of spirit, mind, and purpose to bring harmony to the world.
That Celestia could use them at all is testament to her power and force of will.
Well well... this is... interesting. A few important lessons of love, at least how you view it... I do wonder how much of it is actually true.
Sherman and Peabody, a super intelligent shade of blue, and a classic rock 'n roll reference....
I like this.
And another reference that makes me smile.
Play a guitar like he was ringing a bell? The dragon was Johnny B Goode?! I like all the little treats you throw in there, makes it feel almost like a scavenger hunt. :D
(Still reading <.<)
-Lumino
Equestria has HIVE CITIES?!?!
I want to ask why the hell a candy company would want to hire a band of elite mercenaries, but then again, some scraps of Fallout lore, point to Vault Tec being the ones to start the nuclear war that created the wastelands that various vault dwellers would roam.
So a candy company hiring elite mercenaries isn't too crazy.
Celestia needing to be carried on her chariot, sounds like The Emperor of Man living on his golden throne, and only living because thousands of machines make him live.
I didn't expect a Rocky and Bullwinkle reference via Peabody the dog and his human sidekick.
Is this universe's Peabody a diamond dog?
Ah! A classic tale of romance!
True love is withstanding, and doing gross stuff, to help someone you love in their hour of need.