> Royals
>  by Einhander
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> I: It don't run in our blood
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	ROYALS

By: Einhander

Pre-Read by: Cola Bubble Gum
Edited by: Sharp Spark, Cola Bubble Gum






ONE





"I've never held a diamond in my hoof."

Rarity blinked, unsure her ears were working properly. "Really, darling?" She flicked them once, taking in the gentle symphony of clinking plates and polite chewing around her. Conversations and whispers and orders being taken, she could make out almost all of it, especially the donkey at the end of the bar complaining about the wine he had just been poured ("I ordered a white, not a rose!") No, though The Gilded Oat was far from a quiet restaurant, her hearing was just fine. She had heard the stallion opposite her correctly. All that was left was to discern his meaning. "Not a one?"

He shrugged, his mouth shrugging with him in a lazy smile. "Maybe when I was a colt? I’ve seen them, to be sure. Through a glass, and such. But I can’t remember a single time I had one in my hoof."

"Surely, I would have thought–" 

She stopped herself, as she had learned, over the past few weeks, lesson one in Filthy Rich 101: assume most of your assumptions are wrong. Time and time again, from their first meeting to now, he had not been the pony his name promised. Well, he was wealthy, but his hygiene was not to be questioned, or his integrity. Or his intelligence. She wished she had stopped her careless comment sooner, before the word 'thought' escaped her lips, but alas, there it was, flying through the air towards her handsome date. She hoped it would sail right by him. 

It didn't.

"Thought what?" He asked, starting to pour her more of the very red, no doubt very expensive, wine he had ordered for the table. "That I go home and dive into a vault filled with bits, bonds and diamonds?"

Despite the warm cacophony of sounds surrounding their booth, Rarity could only hear the sound of wine into crystal and her own throat's sharp intake of breath. His eyes were on the wine, but he was clearly waiting for an answer. After all their weeks working together, she thought she had moved beyond 101. Yet here she was, once again having wandered into a trap of her own design. She dug deep down, making extravagant promises to her wit if it would only bail her out this one last time.

"Well I would hope you'd at least wear a swimming suit before embarking on such an absurd past-time." She said, adopting what she thought was her best coy smile. "Unless... Mr. Rich, you want ponies to start thinking of your first name as less metaphor and more literal."

"HA!"

It was a lavish laugh, the braying of a pony who liked to let loose and was out of practice. Filthy drew looks, both surprised and disapproving, as his cackling continued and he spilled some of the wine onto the tablecloth (Celestia knows how much it's worth a drop no don't think about that don't don't don't!)

"I don't know about the diamonds." He recovered his composure as he refreshed his glass of wine. "But I imagine jumping headfirst into a pile of bits would hurt, even with a swimming suit."

He could have let her slip-up slide. He could have let them all slide. Instead he sprung each of the verbal traps, subtly but with a definite snap. He seemed to enjoy the verbal jousting, seeing her turn the stumble into a dance move. Anyway, she knew she was having fun. And as he replaced the bottle on the table, he gave her a wink. The simple closing of an eye did unhealthy things to her heart.

You're welcome, snickered her inner voice.

 Rarity smiled and magically raised her glass. "At least diamonds have a better chance of being properly cleaned. Bits, I mean, my goodness, how many hooves do they change before finding their way into one's bag?"

Filthy raised his glass. "On average?" He paused for a moment, looking up as his lips moved in silent calculation. "Forty two hundred, before they go out of circulation."

She blinked. "Forty two hundred?" This time she stopped herself before going further.

"Give or take a hundred." He smiled, extending his glass. "Cheers."

Clink.

They drank, and neither said a word for a moment as the wine passed over their lips, swirling the present sensations and pairing them with recent memories.

Rich shook his head. "To think you and I would be here, now."

Rarity smiled. “Well, we have good taste in friends…”





 "Afternoon, Applejack, I thought I'd...Oh! Is that the famous Lady Rarity? I wouldn’t expect to see you at Sweet Apple Acres."

"In the flesh! Although I’m not sure why I’m the ‘famous’ Rarity, I do appreciate the compliment, Mr. Rich. Come in, come in!”

“Well, Ponyville’s a small town and everyone knows you, Lady Rarity. ”

“Kind of you to say. Applejack asked me to take care of you for a moment, as we lost track of the time. Have a seat.”

“If it’s a bad time, I can always come back later…”

“Nonsense! Sit, sit. She said she’d be back with the paperwork in ‘two shakes of a pony’s tail.’”

“Well, then, I guess I will.”

“...”

“... I’ve never understood that expression.”

“I rarely understand much of what Applejack says, but I often love the way she says it. Tea?”

“Miss Jack has tea?”

“No, but I always come prepared. One lump or two?”

“Two.”

“Actually I must confess that my awful tardiness is what’s caused her slight tardiness. I was supposed to here forty minutes ago.”

“What happened?”

“A pony needed my help, and I could not refuse, even if it meant a slight delay. Tell me, do you always come personally to Sweet Apple Acres to pick up your orders?"

"Ms. Smith and I always operated on a hoofshake deal about Zap Apple Jam. Now that she's gone, sadly, I thought it important to come personally to handle all the details with Ms. Jack."

"How kind of you. The same terms, I assume?"

"Better, actually, at least temporarily. I’ve been coming over more often to make sure the paperwork is all correct. Last month their bits were held up for weeks because of an unchecked box on a form. This family has suffered enough."

“Agreed.” 

“Lady Rarity, you are close with the Apples, right?”

“Applejack and I have had our differences, but there are few ponies I trust more than she, and her family.”

“Then as a fellow friend to them, may I ask how Ms. Jack is doing? I don’t see her as much as you do, but from what I do see, I think the strain of running the whole enterprise is getting to her. Especially since Mr. Macintosh is busy being a new father and her sister is in high school now, being, well, a high schooler.”

"We've all been trying to help out in our own ways… I think Pinkie and I have been around the most, what with Rainbow being a full time Wonderbolt, Fluttershy has her hands full with the new foal and Princess Twilight being, well, a Princess. In fact that’s why I was here today, trying to help..."

"What's all the hubbub?"

"Pardon?"

"Sorry, term of art for the sales trade. The papers you have spread out here."

"Oh. A failed attempt at a pitch something to Applejack, I'm afraid. No matter."

"A pitch? Equestrian is actually my second language, I was raised on pitch."

"That must have made for some interesting first words."

"Ha! Yes. But Ms. Jack wasn't buying your brand?"

"Sadly, no. But funny you should say 'brand', that's what I was trying to convince her to do..."

"Branding, eh?"

"Yes! Look, Mr. Rich– can I call you Filthy?"

"I'd rather you didn't, actually. Sorry."

"Oh. Ahem. Well, Mr. Rich, would you agree Sweet Apple Acres Apples are the best?"

"Absolutely. I wouldn't sell them if they weren't."

"But would you agree that unless there's a sign or a names crate, you won't know it's an apple family apple until you bite into it?"

"Hmm. Unless it's a Zap Apple, no, I wouldn't be able to tell. The distinctiveness is on the inside."

"Exactly! Now what if these apples had a symbol, a mark that would instantly identify them, let the buyer and seller know, and anyone else who happened to walk by, that it was unmistakably an Apple Farm apple? A symbol like this?"

"Wow. That's... Quite good, Lady Rarity."

"Sadly, Applejack insists that her apples, and I quote, 'don't need no fancy marks.' I even offered to do it for free, but, no."

"For free? Lady Rarity, Business 101: If you’re good at something, never do it for free.”

“Mr. Rich, Friendship 102: Never charge a friend for a gift you give from your heart.”

“These really are eye-catching. I wonder. Are you free tomorrow for lunch?"

"What? Er. I suppose so, I have a few appointments but there's a gap between them–"

"Good. Come by my office at 1? It will be a working lunch."

"But, Filt– Mr. Rich. What will we be working on?"

"Bring your drawings. You'll see."





A beige unicorn mare in a smart waiter uniform crossed behind them, excusing the intrusion with a whispered pardon, as she lit the wall mounted lanterns with a nod of her horn. Each became a warm beacon of magical light. The glow bounced off the walls, as The Gilded Oat was more than just a cleverly named Prarisian restaurant, it actually had a dining room covered in gold leaf. The reflected light shone in her eyes, causing her to squint a bit but otherwise highlighting her face as if it was a portrait.

There was an ornate mirror on the wall with a polished silver frame. Rarity regarded her reflection as she looked away from their toast and sipped her wine delicately. She wore sapphire earnings, a touch of blush and subtle lashes, paired with a new blue dress that was a very unplanned sudden expenditure, but it perfectly matched the earrings.

As she glanced in the mirror, she realized the beige unicorn waiter was looking at her curiously. However, once Rarity caught her eye in the mirror, the waiter looked away and scurried off.

“What did you think of the menu?” Rich asked.

“I heard Princess Twilight herself approved the selections and makes sure the chef uses the freshest ingredients.” She replaced the wine on the table and chuckled. “That being said, even if Twilight knows how to pronounce some of these menu items, I doubt she’d ever actually order them. I heard a story that she drives the Canterlot cooks batty with request after request for nothing but dandelion sandwiches.”

"I heard a story about you, Miss Rarity."

"Oh? One of my adventures with Twilight? We did save the world once or twice or four times."

He shook his head. "No, about you. Not about your friends. Just you."

Rarity held her breath. There were only three or four events he could be referring to, but which? And where the buck were their first courses (salad for him, soup for her) which would give her the perfect deflection to get out of this?

When it was clear no culinary rescue was inbound, she swallowed and said "Just me?"

"Yes. A famous or infamous story depending on whom you ask. And begging your pardon but I feel like I just have to know..."

"A story or a rumor?" Rarity asked, reaching for her wine in what she hoped looked like a casual manner. 

Rich tilted his head. "What do you feel is the difference? Either way, that matters is whether it’s true or false?"

"A story is a plain but pretty pony dressed to their best, all the finest features brought forth and their blemishes and faults concealed.” She sipped her wine carefully, keeping eye contact. “A touch of illusion, perhaps, but what are the facts when stacked up against the truth of that pony's beauty in the light?"

Rich laughed. "I can't wait to hear what a rumor is."

"A cheap floozy wearing cheaper perfume." Rarity gently but firmly placed the glass on the table. "A rumor is a sad pony dressed in clothes that draw the eye but are one wash away from coming apart at the seams. The only nice thing on her is the makeup, because you need quality foundation to cover the scars, and the tears. You almost feel sorry for her until you hear the bile in her words and the jealousy in her heart."

She caught his stunned gaze. A sharp intake of breath and she looked down, eyes suddenly intent on the bread basket on the table. There was nothing as riveting in the world as a metal container filled with some scones and a baguette. Where the words came from she didn’t know, but now they were on the table.

Rich said, "Wow." Then, nothing, as he picked up his glass of water. She heard him sip the water as she slowly took a scone out of the basket and broke it half, still looking away. Magically applying a tiny layer of butter, she waited for more words to come. They did not. From her vantage point of eyes on the table, she could tell he had replaced his water glass. But no words.

Inaction provoked action. She looked up and saw his eyes... Kindness? Concern? Unclear. There was a softness at least, an indication of a mind not yet made up.

Finally he said, "How do you know which is which? You certainly have a way with words, but words are only words."

 "A story makes life more worth living, one tiny detail at a time. It is humble and promises only itself. The other is more entrancing, hinting at exotic treasures and delights. If it sounds too good be true but you listen anyway. You wake up the next morning with an empty wallet and a head full of thunder clouds, if you’re lucky."

He arched an eyebrow. "And if you’re unlucky?"

She sighed. "A hole in your heart."

They sat in silence as the bustle of the restaurant swirled around them. Their two-top was a tiny eye in the cyclone of noise. Rarity's hooves rested on the table, suddenly unable to move, even to pick up a buttered scone. She had her magic, but it also seemed far away, less likely than moving her hooves. What had she confessed? Nothing, really, and yet a storm grew in her stomach. It would have been better to have some pony light their table on fire, that would have been less upsetting than this silence after her outburst.

This was a mistake.

Tension poured into her hind legs. While she couldn't move her hooves to eat or drink, she was able to bolt, and soon it wouldn't be an option but a necessity.

Then he put his hoof over hers, and everything stopped. She looked up.

"I was very honored you accepted my invitation to dinner."

There could be no mistake now about what was in his eyes. Kindness. After all, he was smiling as he said it.

She said, "I was flattered to be asked, Fil."

He blushed at her words.

The silence returned, but it was warm this time. She didn't mind it. Smile met smile, and the tension drained out of her.

"But I'm afraid I really must ask..."

The tension poured right back in, this time flooding all four legs.

"... Story or rumor I don't presume to know, but Miss Rarity, tell me, honestly now..."

His eyes were still kind, but determined now. Hoof still on her hoof, she couldn't escape. Why? Why after such kindness, would he press the matter, why–

"Did you really tell Prince Blueblood to gallop off a cliff at the Grand Galloping Gala all those years ago?"

She was glad that there was no wine in her mouth, for surely it would have jettisoned from her mouth and landed all over her date. 

"I heard of it from several sources, but no one version is the same. One involves being forced to pay for pastry, one involves shoving him into a fountain, another has you splashing mud over him, and they all mention a glass slipper but I'm not sure how or why it factors in." He took his hoof off her hers. "And I so wanted to hear the real story, first hoof, from the lady herself."

And she smiled. She laughed, she smiled and she laughed as music filled her heart as she almost sang, "It's a story worth telling."

As he laughed, the soup and salad arrived. He waited for the waiter to finish the presentation, and once pepper and cheese was dispensed, heleaned over the table with an easy smile. 

"Then by all means..."





"I don't mind playing the trading game with other towns. In fact, I enjoy it. But I when it comes to Ponyville, I consider it my responsibility to protect our own. To give back, to make sure our town grows and local industries thrive. Especially the Apple Family."

"Your two families go back aways don't you?"

"Without the Zap Apple business, there would be no Rich’s Barnyard Bargains. But lately, I fear, without Barnyard Bargains, I don't know if there would still be Apple Farms."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Lady Rarity, would you agree with me that Ms. Jack is an honest pony, a bit stubborn but a very hard worker, committed to make sure that her family is provided for?

"Agreed on all points. She's our town’s best businessmare."

"There we disagree. Apple Farms has fallen behind on their payments, shipped orders to the wrong places or not at all, and in general has been in decline since Ms. Smith passed away."

"What are you saying? Applejack hasn't mentioned anything, and surely Granny Smith couldn't be running the place. She could barely hear! She was so elderly and, well, a little..."

"Crazy? Like Discord, Ms. Rarity. She ran the place like clockwork. The grandfoals grew the fruit, but the grandmother did the deals."

"My word. I had no idea."

"Indeed. Without her, the vultures have been circling, and it's too much for Applejack, poor mare."

"I would strongly advise you not use the words 'poor mare' within earshot of Applejack, unless you're looking for a hoof to the face. She will pull through."

"Let me be clear: Applejack is the strongest mare I know. She will work herself to the bone for her family. But every pony has strengths and weaknesses. I hope you don't take offense, but I would not hire you to raise a barn."

"It would offend me more if you thought I could raise a barn."

"Which is why I'm instead asking you, as a fellow businesspony, to aid me in saving Sweet Apple Acres."

"Fellow businesspony? Sir, I am a designer.”

"You started with nothing, or very little. Now, you flourish and have your own business with your own customer list. You showed in Manehattan and designed Princess Twilight's gown for her coronation. Stop me if I'm wrong about any of this."

"No."

"There are other artists in Ponyville, but there is only one business mare, Lady Rarity. There are flower sellers, chocolate makers and apple farmers, and then there’s you. And I need your help. I’m asking for your help."

"That's all very flattering, but what, exactly, are you asking of me?"

"Branding! I saw what you proposed for Apple Farms. I mentioned to her as well that day, how wonderful the design was, but she wouldn't hear of it. So we try another way. Let's see what happens when she sees it."

"I showed her the design as well, I’m not sure what more we could do.”

"Not that design. The one you are going to do for me, if I can convince you. I want you to redesign the look of Barnyard Bargains."

“The look?”

“The look, the logo, the store, even our catalogues if you’ve got the time. I was born when there was but one princess, now we have four. It’s a new era, and Barnyard Bargains has to move with the times. And if Sweet Apple Acres wants to survive, it must as well.”

“Well I certainly applaud your ambition, but this will take time. I didn’t come up with this Apple logo overnight, you know.”

“Of course not. Let’s meet in a week.”

“A week?!”

“Just the rough drafts, Lady Rarity, just the rough drafts. We’ll meet for lunch again, and in the meantime send me an invoice.”

“Look, Fi– Mister Ri– Do you have… is there some other name I can address you by? Mr. Rich just sounds so formal.”

“I’m not too terribly fond of my first name, Lady Rarity.”

“How about… Fil? I know it’s a bit casual, but, since we’re going to be business partners and all.”

“...”

“I’m sorry, did I step in it again?”

“No! I just, haven’t gone by that name in a long time. But yes. You can call me Fil.”

“Good! And just Rarity is fine for me.”

“I’m afraid I could never agree to that, Lady Rarity.”





"Then Pinkie Pie said that my prince would come for me, and on the lives of the Princesses, I do not know what came over me. I picked up my hoof and I pulverized that glass slipper."

"Pulverized it? How does one–"

"I stomped and I stomped until it was nothing but a fine powder."

He nodded, chewing thoughtfully. Careful to swallow before speaking, he said "That will do it, I'm sure. Was your adventure over then?"

"Mostly. I ran out and caught up with Twilight and the others." She smiled, eyes glazing over for a brief moment. "We spent the rest of the evening eating pastries and laughing with the Princess, all of us in our finest gowns."

"So Blueblood, sorry, Prince Blueblood… he’s as much of a hoof head as they say, huh?"

"I wouldn't presume to know who they are or what they say, but I say there's a reason he's still a bachelor, and I’d be shocked if any decent mare or stallion could stand him for more than five minutes unless they were family or paid by the hour. The Princess said as much without saying it. I could tell from the look in her eyes when she apologized for him."

Wrinkling his nose, Rich's smile evaporated into confusion. "Princess Twilight was already Princess Twilight then?"

 She had magically floated her spoon down to the soup and back up to her mouth when the question stopped her. "Hmm? Oh, no..." She blew on the tomato bisque steaming in her spoon. "She was just 'Twilight' then. I meant Princess Celestia."

He nodded as his smile returned. "Princess Twilight was always quite friendly to me back when she was the town librarian. And to my daughter. I always appreciated that." The smile evaporated again. "Of course, my Tiara didn't speak too well of her back then, but she didn't speak too well of anypony back then." Like a see-saw the smile returned again. "Now she speaks even worse, but I can tell she's jealous of the Princess's wings and title. How fares Princess Twilight?”

Rarity shrugged, a throwaway wave of her hoof as she leaned back. "How anypony does when they find themselves thrown into a life they never wanted. She insists on being called 'just Twilight', so of course I take every opportunity to call her Princess." She chuckled. "She lets me get away with it. When Rainbow tried to do it Twilight gave her such a look!" Idly floating her glass of wine to her lips, she found herself lost in thought again. "I don't see as much of her as I'd like."

"I imagine a princess's life is quite busy, a lot of hard work. Tiara never believes me. She thinks it's all balls and gowns."

Rarity nodded, sipping her wine, eyes still elsewhere. "Balls and gowns, governance and treaties, managing the Everfree and taking care of all of us ponies. Twilight says its fine, but I can see the toll it takes on her. I saw a gray hair in her mane the last time we met for tea. A gray hair, at her age! I almost wept. She shrugged it off, though. And you know what she told me? ‘It's not my responsibilities making me go gray, it's those ridiculous balls and gowns!'" A trickle of ice had frosted around the last words. She took another sip of wine, a large one. "Ponies can be so strange sometimes. One mare's dream is another's worst fear."

Rich sipped his water for a moment. "Have I accidentally found a sore subject?"

She blinked, eyes refocusing on the now. "I'm sorry?"

"You sound like my daughter. She always wanted to be a princess too." He smiled sadly. "Even now as a teenager, she thinks it's all gold bands, Gray Dragon, trading secrets in the fillies room, wine stains, balls and gowns and trashing palace rooms." He grinned. "I keep telling her it's harder than she thinks."

Rarity balked.

She replaced the glass on the table with slightly more force than she intended. Blush ran up her cheeks as the feelings in her heart curdled. "I apologize for my rudeness. Jealousy is never pretty, is it?"

His ears perked up. "Oh, I didn't think–"

"I would humbly request however, that even if I do remind you of your daughter, you keep such thoughts to yourself. It makes me feel, I don't know if the word is odd or old but I don't like it." She stood up from the table, fueled by rage and embarrassment. "And for your information, I always knew it was more than balls and gowns."

Rich's face fell. "Of course you did. Of course." He looked down, eyes heavy. "I apologize, Lady Rarity. I meant no disrespect."

The words, paired with the expression on his face, tied her stomach in knots. Something hot filled her throat. She forced words out. "Not at all. Not at all." Her hooves felt like they were about to buckle under her. "If you'll excuse me, I must use the restroom.”

“Of course.” 
 
“If they ask whether I am done with the soup, it was lovely, lovely I promise you! I am done, and, well." She contorted her muzzle into what she hoped was a smile, but she deliberately avoided her gaze in the mirror. "Back in two shakes of a pony’s tail."

She turned quickly and walked away, almost slamming into the back of their waiter, who was taking another table's order. Avoiding the collision took most of the self control she had left in her, and her vision became clouded with tears as she made her way to the bathroom. It was only a curious look from the mâitre d’ that inspired a last burst of composure, just enough to get her through the bathroom door and into a stall.

She closed the door, locked it, and let herself cry.
	
> II: Let me be your ruler
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	        ROYALS
        
        By: Einhander
        
        Pre-Read by: Cola Bubble Gum
        Edited by: Sharp Spark, Cola Bubble Gum
        
        


        

TWO




        
        "Sweetie, could you bring that board over?"
        
        "Sure! Gosh, sis, when are you gonna be done with this job? I feel like it's been going on forever!"
        
        "Really? It’s all been a blur. Just so busy!"
        
        "What is this, a chalk board?"
        
        “Yes, Fil says it helps him think, to map out ideas. I promised I’d try it out. We’re a bit stuck on how to remodel the front of the store. But I’ll be a diamond dog before I use my hooves to write on the board, I’ve got this horn for a reason.”
        
        “Uh huh. How does it work?“
        
        “Well, first you write down the idea, circle it and then write down related phrases and ideas. Then you draw arrows, connecting what flows and crossing out what doesn’t, and eventually, inspiration strikes!”
        
        “...”
        
        “... well, it works for Fil, I guess. But it’s all chalk to me.”
        
        "Sis? Who or what is a ‘Fil’?
        
        “Hmm? Oh, sorry, that’s my little nickname I have for Mr. Rich.”
        
         “.... Mr. Rich? Wait. Filthy Rich?”

 “He doesn’t like to go by that name, and I felt strange addressing him as ‘Mister Rich’ all the time.”

 “Rarity, that’s Diamond Tiara's Dad."

        “Yes, Sweetie. All ponies, even Diamond Tiara, get a mother and a father.”

        “Sis, Tiara is the worst. The worst. Don’t tell me you forgot all the trouble she put me through before I got my cutie mark!” 

 “Yes, all that time you spent with your two best friends, going on adventures, finding yourself. And now you’re the best singer in your school. So horrible.”

 “Seriously? I can’t believe you would do this to me!”

 “I fail to see how I am ‘doing’ anything to you. He’s paying me handsomely, and we’re working together to help Applejack.”

        “But she's a total bitch and a spoiled brat!”
        
        “Sweetie Belle! Such language!"

        "It's true!"

        "For your information, Fil is a gentlecolt! He’s not his daughter.”
        
        “Well she got it from somewhere, that’s all I’m saying.”
        
        “Sweetie Belle, really! I’m surprised at you! All this judging of other ponies. He has been nothing but professional, and nice to me, and to the Apple Family.” 
        
        “What, are you dating him now?”

        “What?! No. What? Of course not.”

        "You are, aren't you."

        "Oh, just, go to your room, Sweetie! This instant!"

        “Whatever. Look, just be careful okay? I don’t trust that family any farther than I can throw them. And…”

        “What.”

        “Nothing.”

        “Say it.”

 “You once told me your dream was to marry a rich prince, and you’d be Lady Rarity, never have to worry about bits ever again.”

 “Sweetie, I was just a teenager then. I’m surprised you even remembered that.” 

        “Well, I did. And now, you’re the adult, I’m the teenager.”

        “And?”

        “Act your age. He’s not even a prince.”

        



        "Excuse me?"
        
        Rarity blinked through her tears, weariness giving way to confusion. She stared at the inside of her stall door. There was someone on the other side. And they were knocking.
        
        "Excuse me, miss?" 
        
        She couldn’t place the voice, although it had a subtle western twang she recognized from her adventures in Appleloosa. A quick glance to the left and right of her revealed other stalls, with no hooves. Unless they were broken or filled with foals, they were clearly open. Why in Equestria would this pony need to knock on her stall?
        
        "Miss Rarity?"
        
        She gasped. Confusion fell to mortification. Who was this pony, and why did they know she was crying in the bathroom of The Gilded Oat? Playing dumb entered her mind as a solution, but she quickly rejected it; the gasp had given her away. Kicking open the door and bolting also seemed a briefly attractive idea, but it only got her out of the bathroom, and getting out of the restaurant was another issue entirely. How did this pony know her name?
        
        "Please, Miss Rarity. I just want to help."
        
        "And who are you, dear?" An absurd question to ask through a stall door, but at this point, absurdity bred absurdity.
        
        "You probably don't remember me, but I remember you. You were a friend to me when I needed one. Please, Miss Rarity. Open the door?"
        
        Rarity had always strongly believed in kindness to strangers. It was strange to be on the receiving end, especially since this stranger claimed to know her. Still, her options were more limited now, having engaged with this pony beyond the door.
        
        "Very well. Fair warning, I may be a fright."
        
        She opened the door with a hoof, lacking the mental strength to use magic at the moment. Rarity squinted at the sight before her. Was it… it was! The beige unicorn mare from earlier, the lamp lighter, wearing a waiter's uniform and a relieved smile. 

        "It is you!" she cooed.
        
        "I suppose I must be me, yes." Rarity replied, wiping her eyes. She tried to place the mare, and was coming up with nothing. She had a white mane and a serving plate cutie mark and was a little younger than her, but otherwise nothing about her was ringing any bells. But the mare knew who she was, or at least was a convincing performer. 
        
        “I thought it was you, but I wasn’t sure, and we must not make eye contact if we are not a table’s server, but I just knew it had to be you, and then I saw you run away and, oh I’m just so glad to see you again!” The mare rubbed her hooves together uneasily, then jumped forward and embraced Rarity. 
        
        It was a warm embrace on one end, frozen shock on the other. It was not the first time she had cried in a bathroom, but it was the first time she had been hugged by a stranger in such a situation. Who was this mare? She definitely had to be from Appleloosa or some other western town. But she couldn’t place her face… and yet, here she was, hugging her tightly.
        
        Rarity found herself crying again. 
        
        The waiter mare hugged tighter. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you upset, I swear.”
        
        Rarity disengaged herself, “No, it’s not you, I’ve just made a fool of myself. I don’t quite know how to salvage the evening.” She sniffed, wiping her nose. “It had been going so well.”
        
        “Oh.” The waiter blinked. “I thought maybe that gentlecolt was bein’ less than a gentlecolt, and I was-I am-prepared to have him kicked out for you...”
        
        “What?! No! Please don’t, I mean, I appreciate it, in theory, but he didn’t... Well.” Rarity’s head was swimming. “I suppose he did say something a bit uncouth but I over-reacted, he didn’t mean anything by it. He looked so sad, so upset with himself, and I.” She shook her head, the thought unfinished. “I was so comfortable around him when I didn’t think of it as a date, why am I such a mess now that it’s… and why am I bothering you with this? I thank you for your concern, but who are you?”
        
        The waiter smiled softly. “We only met once, and you were very kind to me. You helped me when I needed it, and I promised myself I wouldn’t forget your generosity.” She pulled out a small kerchief out of her uniform and offered it to Rarity, who took it cautiously. 
        
        “But now I feel worse. You say I helped you? I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”
        
        The bathroom door started to open behind the mare, and she turned her head and swiftly shut the door with her magic. “Closed for cleanin’!” she said briskly, then turned to Rarity and whispered, “It doesn’t matter. What matters is what I can do for you now. I’m Silver Platter. How can I help?”
        
        “Well. Ms. Platter.” Rarity bit her lip, knowing the bathroom mirror was there but unable to dare a glance. “I ran here so quickly, in my mind I’m a disaster. Tell me, am I still presentable?” 
        
        “Don’t worry, Rarity! You look lovely, your gown, your accessories. Except for, um…” There was a pause. Platter gestured at the general area of Rarity’s muzzle. “I think your face needs a touch up?”
        
        Rarity took a breath, closed her eyes, faced the mirror and opened them. She stared at herself and gasped. 

        “A pity this isn’t backstage at the opera, no? I could step in at a moment’s notice, as long as they needed a sad clown.” She grumbled, “The way it’s run over my face, I’m practically avant-garde.”
        
        Platter chuckled, a little uneasily. “It’s not that bad…”
        
        “Kind of you, Ms. Platter, but I’ll have to start over completely, there’s no saving this.” Rarity turned her head, magically floating her bag in front of her face. “If you could just keep the interlopers out for a moment, I can…” Her eyes went wide. “Oh, dash it all!”
        
        “What?”
        
        “I brought the wrong bucking purse.” She dropped her bag on the counter of the sink, and sewing needles and thread spilled out. “This is my work bag. My bag with all my make up, my tissues, my little bit of perfume, it’s hanging on my coat rack at home.” Her shoulders started shaking uncontrollably, wet chuckles escaping her throat. “After I went to all that care to pack it… haha…”
        
        Silver Platter cocked an eyebrow. “Lady Rarity?”
        
        “This isn’t an opera, it’s a farce.” Rarity’s shoulders sagged as the chuckles became quiet sniffles. “No matter. Silver, you have already been so kind to me, but I must ask a favor of you.”
        
        “Anything.”
        
        She hung her head. “Would you please tell Mr. Rich I took ill and had to leave, with my regrets?” She looked at herself in the mirror. “I think I can slip out quietly enough, I have that in me. But I don’t think I can look at him and say that without bursting into hysterics again. And I’ve had enough of that this evening.”
        
        Platter paused. “No, I don’t think I could do that.”
        
        Rarity sighed. “Right, you’re not our server. The eye contact, yes. Sorry. I wouldn’t want to endanger your position.”
        
        “No, that’s not why.” She took the kerchief out of Rarity’s hoof and ran some cold water over it. “You like this stallion, right?”
        
        “I suppose I do. He’s a widower, has a daughter, it’s complicated, but–”
        
        Platter turned her head, wringing out the kerchief as she stared her in the eye. “You like this stallion.”
        
        Rarity took a breath. “Yes. I do.”
        
        “Then don’t surrender your future happiness over a matter as trivial as some bucking foundation and powder, excuse my Prarisian.” Platter dabbed Rarity’s eyes with the kerchief, then she lit up her horn and produced a small blue bag from a pocket on her uniform, floating it in front of Rarity. “Here.”
        
        Rarity looked at the bag, then took over control with her own magic and opened it. A tiny sound of surprise escaped her mouth. Inside was a little blush, mascara, no lipstick but lip gloss, and a small sample size of eyeliner. 
        
        “It’s not much, I know.” Platter said.
        
        “Oh Silver.” Rarity smiled, starting to tear up again. “It’s treasure.”
        
        “Don’t go crying again, friend!” She smiled, re-dabbing Rarity’s eyes. “I have to get back to my section. But with your permission, I’m going to tell your waiter to tell Mr. Rich you’ll be out shortly?”
        
        Rarity nodded. “Yes, I think so. Thank you.” She started taking out the small accessories, and smiled. “A thousand times, thank you.”
        
        “Anytime.” Silver Platter smiled back and went for the door.
        
        “Silver?”
        
        “Mm?”
        
        Rarity started at her through her reflection in the mirror. “What did I do for you, to make you be so kind to me?”
        
        “Let’s just say, without you, I wouldn’t be here.” Platter winked and opened the door. Noise and light flooded the bathroom. “Will you be okay?”
        
        She nodded. Platter smiled and closed the door, leaving Rarity alone. She began to apply the eyeliner.

        “I just wish I could remember where I met you...”

        



        “What are you up to, Rarity? I can smell a set-up a country mile away, and this stinks."

        “Whatever do you mean, Applejack? I’m just showing you my designs for Fil's business."

        "Who?"

        "Er, for Mr. Rich. Don’t they look splendid?"

        "You don’t say? Well, yeah, actually, they do. I reckon this will look real sharp, at least it'll be a lot nicer than that chicken scratch on his old signs."

        "And look how the B interlocks with the other B! I know it's uncouth to brag, but I'm very pleased with them. And more importantly, Fil is pleased as well. It's rare to be as happy as your client with how something turns out."

        "Uh huh. Heh. Twice."

        "And Fil is convinced that this new look will lead to increased sales across the board–"

        "Three times, sugar cube."

        "I'm sorry?"

        "Oh, nothin'. Go on."

        "Well we were taking over our weekly lunch meetings, about this and that re: the designs, and, wouldn't you know, you came up? You and Sweet Apple Acres."

        "And golly gee, you both thought what a treat it would be if you could design me some kinda logo thing and he could export my apples using that drawin' and we all make a lot of bits and live happily ever after?"

        "Well I'm not sure we ever discussed that last part, in specifics, but..."

        "Filthy Rich already made a run at me earlier today, darlin'. I appreciate the effort, but he's a much better sales pony. Had figures and charts and that aggravating polite but persistent manner. Alright, Rarity. You win, I'm in."

        "If you'd just give us a... What was that? You're saying yes?"

        "We need a shot in the leg for our farm, and I'm willing to try anythin' as long as it's legal. Go nuts. I mean, it's still gotta be me and the family, nothin too fancy but-"

        "Oh Applejack! You shan't regret this! I promise Fil and I will-"

        "Four."

        "Ugh! Two, three, now four! What? What are you counting?"

        "Number of times you say 'Fil'."

        "Oh, that's just– he doesn't like his first full name, so he goes by that nickname."

        "Rarity, I've known Filthy Rich my whole life. You know the number of times I've heard anyone call him anything other than 'Mr. Rich' or 'Daddy'?

        "No."
        
        "Only Four. Just now."

        "Ah."

        "Sorry, Rarity, didn't mean to embarrass you. It's just kinda adorable, that's all.”

        "I. Am. Not. Adorable. Striking? Gorgeous? Accomplished? Classic? Fine. But I am not... That."

        "You got your words, I got mine. Oh, and by the way? You’re blushin'."

        "It's not like that! He's a married stallion and, and besides, we're just business partners. I do enjoy his company, of course, but–"

        "Wait a second, hun, did you say married?"

        "Well, yes. He has a daughter, and his office is covered in pictures of his family."

        "Oh, shucks, Rarity. You don't know?"

        "Know what?"

        "His wife passed on years ago, when Tiara was just a little foal. He's a widower."

        "But... The pictures, I don't understand..."

        "How old was he in those pictures?"

        "They did seen a bit out of date, but there were pictures of him and Tiara that couldn't be older than a year!"

        "Just him and Tiara, right?"

        "...”

        “Sorry, darlin’. I thought you knew.”

        “Oh, Applejack. I feel like a fool. I don’t know how I missed it."

        "I'll tell ya this, Rarity. I'm not sure why it hasn't come up, but, I do know this. Mr. Rich always has a reason for anything he does. Weekly meetin's? Store redesign? Letting him call you 'Fil'? I think he likes you, sugarcube."

        "Please don't say that."

        "Why not? Oh, I get it. He's not royalty, right?"

        "No, it's not that. I let that go a long time ago."

        "Then what's the problem?"

        "He's got a daughter.”

        “Oh, right. Yeah, Tiara is a piece of work, ain’t she? Worried she won’t like ya?”

        “It’s not just that. My sister hates her."

        


        
        She approached the table with a slight hesitation in her step, wondering what would greet her upon her return. He sat at the table, one hoof on the side of head, the starters cleared from the table and the bread basket, for some reason, refreshed. Her fears eased once he turned his head and saw her, and his eyes lit up. He rose from his chair with a start, relief almost visibly pouring off his shoulders as he reached to pull her chair. She stopped him with a raised hoof as she magically pulled back her own chair.
        
        “I’d like to–”
        
        “I must–”
        
        They both stopped. She coughed with a nervous smile and sat herself down. He waited, then sat and adjusted his tie. 
        
        “Sorry, you were saying?” Rich said.
        
        Rarity shook her head, “No, please, you.” 
        
        He nodded, taking a sip of his wine with what seemed to be deliberate slowness. After he swallowed and dabbed his muzzle with a napkin, he took a breath and said, “I was afraid I was never going to see you again.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “Even though the waiter said you would only be a moment, I didn’t believe him. I thought, if it’s because I couldn’t keep my stupid attempts at ice-breaking to myself, I’d just wouldn’t be able to forgive myself… which is my too long version of saying, I’m glad you came back.” He smiled weakly. “And I apologize for my rudeness.”
        
        “First, darling, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all.” Rarity downed what was left of her wine, then looked him in the eye. “Second, if that was your version of ice-breaking, well, we’re both in the soup now.”
        
        Rich chuckled. “Yes, I suppose so.” He pointed at the wine bottle. “May I?” She nodded, and he slowly refilled her glass. “I’m at home talking to ponies, it’s what I do. I can sell dust to an Appleloosan. But when it comes to, well, this, I’m quite rusty. Say ‘when’.”
        
        “So am I, Fil. So am I. Er, ‘when’. ‘When’!” She raised her hoof, and the pour stopped. It was a heavy pour, and then it clicked in her head: the bread basket wasn’t the only thing that had been refilled. This bottle was brand new, but for the wine that was in Rich’s glass.
        
        Oh well, you’ve flown without a net before, Rarity. She sighed and picked up the glass. Never in a restaurant like this, but, if you can face down dragons and Discords...
        
        “Cheers.”
        
        “Cheers.”
        
        Clink. 

        She sipped the wine, and let the flavors wash over her tongue. 
        
        “I know Applejack has been stubborn, but I can tell she appreciates what you’ve done.” Rich said, straining to keep a positive tone in his voice. “I think that our work, your work really, is going to help make Ponyville a better place.”
        
        “I’ve never been proud of my address,” she replied, and instantly wondered why. He stared at her, eyebrows raised. She decided to double down. “I spent my whole life trying to get away from Ponyville. Trying to get to a palace, or Manehattan, or… anywhere but here. I saved my bits, I built my business. And I did see the palace, and the Crystal Empire, and I even showed a fashion line in Manehattan, made some friends and enemies, but…” She sipped her wine, head spinning. Why was she saying all of this? 
        
        Rich shrugged. “All roads lead back to Ponyville, my father used to say.” 
        
        “We are smack dab of the country, aren’t we? I never thought of it that way, but I suppose so, yes. They do.” She looked at her wine, tilting the glass, watching the lamp light bounce off the red liquid. “And I travelled down most of them, and yet here I am.”
        
        Rich leaned back in his chair. “Do you consider yourself a failure for coming back?”
        
        “No. Not really. No matter where I went, I never found ponies as kind as here. The friends I made here, they’ve stayed with me for the longest. I missed them terribly when I left. I shudder to think what I might have become if I pursued my foolish filly dreams, or if I had moved to Manehattan back when I first left school.”
        
        The kindness returned again to Rich’s eyes. “I’m sure you would have been fine.”
        
        She shook her head. “Every pony has a dark side, Mr. Rich. I’ve seen mine only a few times, but it scares me. And it’s only come out when I’ve been away from home.” She sipped her wine again and sighed. “Usually regarding matters of the heart.” 
        
        “I was amazed, honestly, to see you back here and unattached.” 
        
        She laughed. “My last attachment ended somewhat spectacularly. That’s what I thought you were asking me about earlier.”
        
        Rich blinked. “A rumor?”
        
        She shrugged. “A story, but not a good one. You think you’re with a fabulous pony in the art world. Then it turns out you’re the other mare, and you’re the last one to find out that he's about to propose to a fashion model. If Coco hadn’t pitied me, taken me aside and told me the truth, I’d still be waiting for a horn band that was never coming.”
        
        "Coco..." He squinted in thought. “The designer, yes?”
        
        “More like a mogul now, but yes. She’s a friend, remember?”
        
        “Ah yes. Diamond still speaks of that gift, you know.”
        
        She smiled. “That’s nice. Anyway, I move back here, and ever since Sweetie had to move in with me, I, well, I became more a mother than sister. And I considered all matters of romance tabled, indefinitely. I do love Sweetie so. She makes me go mad now and then, but now I can’t imagine life without her. And I have to make sure she keeps up with her singing lessons of course, and…” 
        
        She stopped, staring into her wine glass. A warmth that she hadn’t experienced with the previous two glasses was swirling through her body, and she realized, too late, that she hadn’t actually eaten the bread she had buttered, nor did she have much of the soup.
        
        And now you are tipsy. Well done, ‘Lady’ Rarity.

        She often doubted the loyalty of her own mind. Trying to keep on whatever train of thought was still at the station, she proclaimed, “Rusty! I am rusty, indeed.” Rarity babbled. “It’s been, oh my, what, two years? Since my last dinner with a stallion. Maybe three.” A image passed by her mind’s eye, and she shuddered. “No, it was two, that traitor. Er. How long for you, if I can ask? Er, the dinner part, not the with a stallion part. Not that there’s anything wrong with…" 
        
  Rich smiled. "I think we're going to need some more wine."

  "Oh, dash it all, you know what I mean!” Rarity sniffed. "Don't make me feel sillier than I already do. How long has it been for you?"

  “Let’s see… Diamond is sixteen, so…” He gazed upwards in thought, like he had previously with her question about bits. “Eighteen years? Yes, that sounds about right.” Rich looked back down, and winced when he saw her reaction. He sighed. “It sounded reasonable until I said it out loud. Celestia help me. I’m sorry.”
        
  “No! No! It’s fine.” Rarity waved her hooves. “Fine. So. The, um, the last date you went on was, well–”

 “My wife.”

 The silence was sudden and overwhelming. Rich tried to fill it. “Well, I was set up by friends with a mare, a lovely lady, really, when Diamond was five, three years after…” Rich shook his head. “But it was just coffee. And it, well, it never went further than that. Really.”

 “So eleven years, then.” Rarity said faintly.

 “I suppose so.” Rich shrugged. “I told my friends and family, in no uncertain terms, never again. Especially not somepony like that.”

 Rarity floated her wine over and had a healthy sip. No longer was her fear that she was tipsy. Now the thought that gave her complete dread was sobriety. “Somepony like what?”

 “She was a lovely mare, just lovely, but, and it wasn’t her fault, I could never date somepony like that.”

 “You’re ducking the question, Fil.” She put her glass down impatiently. “Somepony like what?”

 He sighed and took his own sip. “She was too much like her.”

        Rarity’s heart skipped a beat. There could only be one ‘her’, not that she knew her name. Which she should have, if she had bothered to ask anypony. 
        
        I am such a fool.
        
        Rich’s eyes fell on the table and did not rise. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, to alleviate the pain she saw on his face, but before she could he continued: “She didn’t look like her,” he continued, “Not really. A slight resemblance but a different coat color, a different mane. Her voice was more earthy. But they should have known. A cutie mark of leaves? Did they think I wouldn’t notice?” A slight edge of bitterness crept into his tone. “And this mare, oh what was her name, Holly something? So long ago.” He shook his head. “Anyway, she was talking of going hiking, and trips into the wilderness, and she was so nice but I smiled, and I nodded, and paid for her coffee, and then I went back to my mother and said, in no uncertain terms, never again. Wild Woods cannot be replaced. Do not insult her memory by trying."

 Whatever silences had come before, this was the new king of quiet. Rarity reached over and took his hoof. “I’m sorry, Fil. We don’t have to speak about it any more.” 

        He shook his head, holding her hoof tight. “It’s not very pleasant dinner conversation, is it?” He sighed and leaned back. "Why did I pick this restaurant? It's so stuffy in here, I feel like I'm having trouble breathing." He paused. "The food's not bad, though."

 She stared at him, turning his words and her thoughts over in her head. Unfolding her hooves from his, she leaned in close and said, “Do you trust me?”

 He blinked. “What do you mean?”
 
 “I have an idea,” she whispered, “But I need you to follow my lead. Are you game?” He regarded her for a moment, then nodded. She smiled, and turned to their waiter. “Pardon me?”

 The uniformed stallion turned and bowed. “Yes, Miss?”

 “I have a somewhat unusual request. Are our entrees ready?”

 He smiled. “They should be out momentarily, Miss.”

 “Very good. We would like them to go, please.”

 The waiter blinked. “Beg pardon?”

 Rarity smiled patiently. “We would like the meals we have ordered, both of them, to go. Paper plates, silverware, and napkins in a bag, please.” She finished her glass, and pointed to the red wine. “And if you could cork this bottle, that would be most appreciated, as we will be taking that with us as well. Along with two fresh glasses. Add them to our bill.”

The waiter slowly nodded as he backed away, “Right away, Miss.”

 Rich looked at her, a slow smile creeping up on his face. “What are you plotting, Lady Rarity?”

 “An adventure, Mr. Rich.” She winked. “Just a small one.”
	

> III: Let me live that fantasy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	ROYALS

By: Einhander

Pre-Read by: Cola Bubble Gum
Edited by: Sharp Spark, Cola Bubble Gum






THREE





"I feel like we're ready, don't you?"

"We're practically there. Nips and tucks, that's all. I think I'll have the final version for your approval in a couple of days."

"That's just a formality. You'll have my signature immediately. But how soon before it can all be installed? I don't want Barnyard Bargains closed for too long."

"That's up to you and your workcolts. If they follow the specifications, and do it all at once? About five days, give or take. Start early evening Sunday, closed the week and reopen Saturday morning."

"And if we d-do it just the nights? Stay open during the day?"

"Dear, I can hear your teeth chattering. You really must turn up the heat, I feel ridiculous wearing this scarf indoors, fashion forward though it may be."

"The boiler is broken again, and we can only afford to fix the part that works for the store itself. I won’t have my employees working in the cold. But if it breaks again, I don’t know if we can afford to even do the temporary fix. That's why I'm worried about closing."

"I did draw up that schedule, per your request. It can be done. But not recommended. It would take almost a month, a little less if you're lucky."

"A m-month??"

"You lose an hour each night with set up and break down, maybe more. That means you only get a few straight hours of good work done, and what if you need a replacement part or a bucket of paint? No store is open, you're stuck until the next night."

"Hmm... Yes that was more or less the story of when we had to fix the floor in the produce section last year."

"You will be paying more for the labor and your customers are stepping over buckets and ladders. I'm not sure how much you could lose being shut down a week–"

"It's not nothing. And that's ponies out of work for that period of time."

"Then put them to work! Fil, consider this: whatever you lose, you make back in a huge re-opening event. Get your store ponies to paint the town red with fliers, announce a giant party, offer, I don't know, free balloons, and then we get Applejack to– what's so funny?"

"Nothing, nothing. I just like the way you said 'free balloons.' Go on."

"Are you making fun of me, Mr. Rich?"

"Actually, I'm complimenting you. I think this idea has potential. You were about to say Sweet Apple Acres does the catering?"

"I–yes, I was."

"And could you see if Princess Twilight would make an appearance?"

"Ha ha, stop reading my mind, Fil. It's creeeeepy. Actually, I doubt I could get Twilight to come on such short notice, but Rainbow Dash will be on home leave from Wonderbolt duty, I'm sure I could get her to make an appearance in uniform. Normally she spends her visits to Ponyville with Scootaloo, but I think she could bring the young mare along."

"And could Miss–"

"Yes, Pinkie would be insulted if we didn't invite her to help with everything. Fortunately, being the manager of Sugarcube Corner now means she can set her own schedule. Anything else?"

"I'm sure something will come up. 'Always Be Thinking', my father always told me."

"Oh! Fluttershy and Bi– oh? Is that somepony knocking?"

"I specifically asked not to be disturbed during our meetings... Come!"

"Daddy!"

"Oh, hello my dear! I'm just in a meeting but–"

"Oh Daddy it's terrible! Somepony at school stole my favorite scarf!"

"Somepony at school?"

"Yes! It was in my locker at the beginning of the day, and at the end of the day it was g-gone! Daddy it's not fair!"

"There there–"

"You poor thing!"

"... Who are you?"

"This is the Lady Rarity, she's helping me re-design our store."

"Hello, dear."

"Yeah, hi. Anyway, Daddy, I told Principal Cheerilee that I knew, I just knew who it was. It was that Scootaloo and her two friends, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, the big bullies, but she said I didn't have any proof and then I sort of yelled at her and–"

"Yelled at her?"

"Daddy, listen! I'm the one that's the victim of a crime, and yet I'm the one suspended from school!"

"What?! Suspended?"

"I know! It's not fair, it's not fair! Just for throwing a stupid chair in the stupid principal's office, and those other three girls get away with scarf-napping! It's not–"

"Oh, Tiara..."

"Diamond? Excuse me, but, what kind of scarf was it?"

"It was... Um, it was pink, and it was fluffy, and it was a Coco Pommel."

"No! You. Lost. A. Coco. Pommel?!"

"Actually, ahem, it was more a scarf that was in the style of Ms. Pommel..."

"Daddy! You told me you wouldn't tell anypony it was–"

"In the style of, hmm? Well this scarf, right here? It is a Pommel. Would you like it?"

"It's a real Pommel?! Oh, its so chic! Do you really mean it?"

"That's very generous but really not necessary, Rarity..."

"Nonsense, dear.  Ms. Pommel is a close personal friend. I can always get another. Here, it's a gift."

"Oh can I have it, Daddy? Can I can I?"

"I suppose if Rarity insists."

"She does."

"Oh thank you, Daddy!"

"Don't thank me, thank her."

"Thank you, Rarity! You're so super cool and nice!"

"I try, dear."

"Yes well, we have to finish our meeting, and afterwards, we're going to have a talk about this suspension, young lady."

"That's fine Daddy, you need to sign the form anyway, and they said something about a conference? I wasn't listening."

"Yes, well. We'll talk about it later."

"Nice to, er, meet you, Diamond. Enjoy the scarf."

"I will, oh I will. Ooh, it’s so soft!"

"... she has no idea I'm Sweetie's sister, does she?"

"I love my daughter, but she usually doesn't pay attention to the lives of other ponies. I haven't seen her take to another pony like that in a long time." 

"She's a real sweetheart, isn't she?"

"Yes. Yes, she is. She can be. Lady Rarity?”

“Mmm?”

“Would you like to go to dinner with me?"

"I appreciate the thought, but I think lunch is more conducive to getting business done, don't you?"

"Not a business dinner. Dinner dinner. Just you and I."

"... Oh."

"There's that new restaurant, the one the Princess commissioned–"

"The Gilded Oat, yes. All organic and based on the Golden Era of Canterlot."

"Anyway, um. Of course, if you're busy, I understand, of course; we're all–"

"Fil, I'd love to."





They sat on a hill near the front of Sweet Apple Acres. From their blanketed perch, the entire town unfurled before them. The houses and various nightlife spots, restaurants and bars, all had their lanterns lit, turning the town into a symphony of light. 

Surrounded by half-empty plates,bowls, and glasses that had been emptied and refilled a few times over, they laughed the gentle chuckles of the nicely drunk.

“In my head, it was this grand gesture. Cast off the shackles of the restaurant world! Go have a picnic in the middle of the night!”

Rich smiled, holding up his wine glass. “It was a wonderful idea.”

She held up her glass. "In theory, anyway." 

Clink.

As she sipped her wine, her eyes wandered down to the her plate. She sighed. “But the food went all cold...”

He shrugged, taking a healthy taste. “Daisies are best served cold anyway, and I’d take the view over warm oats anyday.”

“It is spectacular.” She smiled, then shivered. “A bit chilly, though.” 

After a moment, she felt the brush of fabric on her shoulder, and turned to see Rich wrapping his coat around her. She opened her mouth to protest, and Rich said, “It’s my pleasure, Lady Rarity.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, Fil. Just ‘Rarity’. I beg of you. I am not a Lady.” It was Rich’s turn to disagree, and Rarity cut him off. “It doesn’t run in my blood. I act like a lady, and I try to carry myself like a lady, but I am not royalty. I am not even a Canterlot noble, and thus, under the rules,  I am not a Lady.” 

“And who makes the rules?”

“Ponies with lots of spare time and practice at disapproving glances.” She sighed. “Trust me on this.”

Rich looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Memories best left forgotten?”

“No. If you don’t remember the pain, what’s the point of learning the lesson?” She took a big sip of wine, her tongue relaxed and body warm. “Nevertheless, sometimes it is nice to forget.”

He leaned his head down, rolling it back and forth. “We all have scars.”

There was a silence, and all she could hear were the crickets. The bustle of the town’s nightlife seemed very far away. 

“Fil…this is going to be a little strange, but I have a question. More of a request.”

“Yes?”

She took a deep breath. “Tell me about her?” His eyes went wide. Even the crickets seemed to feel the tension, and stopped their music. She continued, “She was such a large part of your life, but no pony… no one seems to know that much about her. What was she like?”

He paused, looking away for a moment. The crickets resumed their routine, and the world kept on. With a shrug, he finally said. “We were so different, sometimes I wonder if that’s why I was so infatuated.” He stretched out his hooves, pouring himself more wine. “My mother never approved, she was on a quest to have me married to some society, I don’t know, ‘old money’ mare. Father just wanted an heir, didn’t care as long as I produced one. So when Wild got pregnant, rather than face a scandal we suddenly had his blessing. Mother gave up and we were wed.” 

“A shotgun wedding? You?”

“The Rich version of one, yes.” He smiled, taking another sip of wine. “Wild Woods couldn’t be bothered about the high life, business functions, which fork to use for salad and which for the main course. She was only concerned about adventures, always adventures in far off places. Even when pregnant, nothing stopped her. It tired me, but I felt so alive.” 

He was still smiling, but Rarity noticed tears start to trickle down his face. She reached out a hoof. “Fil, you don't have to–”

Rich took her hoof and held it tight. “You asked me about diamonds, earlier?  

Rarity held her breath as she nodded.

"I wanted to give her one, so badly. I wanted to give her everything. She wouldn’t hear of it. ‘Gems belong in the earth, or in a dragon’s maw,’ she’d say. She got so upset the one time my mother tried to give her diamond earrings as a peace offering! Had them sold and donated the proceeds to charity! That was a dark day in the Rich house, I could tell you.” 

He relaxed his grip on her hoof, but did not let go. His words kept tumbling out. 

“That’s why I never even bothered to hold one in my hoof.  I had to beg her to wear the very simple gold band I offered when I proposed to her. I think she only caved because she loved me, I could tell it chafed against her skin.” He wiped his muzzle with his free hoof, and looked up at the stars. “And when we had our foal, our little girl, she looked at me and said, ‘See, Filthy? This is our Diamond.'" He choked back a sob. "'We made her ourselves.’” 

Rarity placed her other hoof on top of Filthy’s, holding him steady. “She sounds wonderful.”

He turned his head and looked at her hoof, and then at her eyes. He smiled. “She was, oh she was. Drove me crazy, of course. Completely irrational, never planned ahead. Completely inconsistent. She’d never let me give her diamonds, or any other kind of jewel, but then Diamond was born, and she spoiled her rotten. After refusing all the money and gifts I had offered her during our courtship, suddenly our foal had the most expensive toys!” He waved his hoof over the town. “Tiara had whatever she wanted, even things she didn’t know she wanted until she had them. And I was working so hard, to provide for my girls, that Tiara became her new adventure partner. I told her, Diamond’s too young! She just laughed at me, saying, she’s our daughter, she’s unstoppable. And when I couldn’t go, she’d take Diamond off and return from exotic places with all sorts of baubles and stories– well, Wild would tell the stories, Tiara would just babble. Hiking, active volcanoes, tropical jungles.” His smile fell. “It was a blessing, really, that I wasn’t able to go on that last trip. She was so strong, and of all the things to stop her, it started with a cough...” 

She waited for words that did not come. Finally she asked, “She took ill?” 

“They both did when they returned. Tiara survived. She told me she was happy, if it had to be this way, that it was her. And if I had went, Tiara might have lost both parents.” He shrugged.  "It feels like it was a long time ago.”

Rarity paused. “Does it get any better?”

“It gets less worse? I try to keep busy. Always busy. It's hard, with Tiara. I didn't know how to be a father, how to raise a foal on my own. I still don't, I suppose. It makes me so sad, she only has the one friend, that she's so scared and angry. She was such a happy filly once." He sighed. "But there are good days with the bad. It gets better, yes, but I’ll never stop missing her.”

Rarity released her grip on his hooves with a frustrated shake of her head. “I don’t presume to know your mind, or what you think this- you and I- is." She paused, then sighed. "But, I can’t be her, Filthy. I don’t know if you’re asking me to be, but I can’t. I don’t hike, I don’t camp, and I barely can take care of my own sister, I wouldn’t even know how to begin being a stepmom... well. She sounds like she was a wonderful mare, and mother, but before we go any further, I want to be clear. I’m not her. And you can’t expect me to be.” She hesitated. “I mean, I suppose I could try hiking, but I went camping once and that was enough.” 
 
“I know that, Miss Rarity.” He looked down. “That’s just it. You’re not her. You’re very much not her. She wasn’t perfect. No pony is. She didn’t have any interest in business, in building something. She never understood what I did for a living, not really. And I could never give her diamonds. I wanted to, but she wouldn’t have any of it. But then I met you.” He looked up at her. “I thought, maybe this is a pony, who I can talk with. Who understands what I do, and why. We could create something. We could save the farm, we could do some good in Ponyville. We could go on our own adventures.” He smiled softly. “And she wouldn’t be upset if I gave her diamonds.”

Words went unsaid as they regarded one another. Finally, Rarity cleared her throat.

“Sapphires.”

“What?”

“I’m not saying no to diamonds, but, I’m a sapphire girl. It’s my cutie mark, after all.”

And he laughed. “Sapphires gleaming as you danced around a ballroom. What I wouldn’t give to see that. I wish I could take you dancing right now.”

“Why can’t you?”

He blinked. “Because we’re on a blanket in front of an apple farm.”

It was Rarity’s turn to laugh. “You’re going to let that stop us? Good thing a lady always comes prepared.”

She opened her bag. A spool of thread fell out, along with a pincushion.

“Umm…” Rich said.

“Never mind that, this is what… yes, here it is.”

She pulled out a small music box, tapped it with her horn, and it started to play. A tin wind-up waltz filled the air. "I always keep a little music on hoof in my work bag." She stood and offered her hoof. “May I have this dance?”

He stood, impish smile on his face. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking?

She laughed. “It’s the era of four Princesses, Fil. Move with the times.”

He returned the laugh, and took her hooves. The music cranked on. The stars seemed to brighten just for them. She rested her head on his shoulder, shivering.

“Cold?”

“Honestly?”

“Please.”

“Scared.”

He stopped dancing, but kept his grip on her. “Why?”

“Because of all the random events that had to happen for us to get here. Because it feels so right, so soon, and I’m afraid it’s all about to fall apart.”

He whispered in her ear. “Sometimes good things just happen.”

“But what if something bad happens?”

“It’ll be okay.” 

She pulled her head up and looked at him. “But Fil–” 

He kissed her. She kissed back.

The waltz played to a stop.  
        




"Excuse me, ma'am, are you open?"

"Actually, I'm sorry darling, I'm just out the door. I'm already late for an appointment at Sweet Apple Acres. But I shall reopen tomorrow–"

"Oh please, you're Miss Rarity aren't you?"

"Well, yes, I am..." 

"I need your help! They told me to come see you–"

"My compliments to 'they,' whoever 'they' are,  but really I must be– oh my goodness, what happened to your suit?"

"I'm... I've gotta a job interview, to be a server at The Gilded Oat in an hour."

"The Gilded Oat? That's… Princess Twilight’s new restaurant in town?"

"Yeah, well, she’s not runnin' it but yes, built with her blessing. And this was my interview suit… but it got caught on a nail getting off the train! Can you fix it? I don't have much, but I can pay you back..."

"Oh, you poor thing. I don't think I can save it, at least not in the time frame you've given me. It's a bad tear. I do have other suits for sale."

"I only have ten bits. I spent my the last of my savings on the train ticket from Dodge Junction. You got anything for ten bits?"

"Dodge Junction? Oh my, you have come a long way. And no back up clothes?"

"No, the interview was so last minute, and this is the only nice thing I had...Oh Celestia, this is my dream, to serve at a Royal-certified restaurant. It's what I've always wanted!”

“Is that a serving tray on your flank? Your talents were certainly wasted in Dodge Junction, I'd imagine. Oh, dear, don't cry...”

“I've waited so long for this chance– and to be undone by a nail, a bucking nail! Excuse my Appleloosian."

"Ten bits, you say? You're in luck, darling, this suit appears to be on sale!"

"But... The price tag says one hundred bits?"

"No, no that zero is a typo. Ten bits! Drastically reduced.”

“Oh thank you! Thank you so much, Miss Rarity! I won’t forget this!”

“Who am I to refuse a pony in need? Now, dear, this is a bit awkward but I’ll have to ask you to strip.”

“...beg pardon?”

“This suit won’t make alterations by itself. You want the job, you must look the part. Now, strip! You can’t be late! Destiny waits for no pony.”





They laid on the blanket, staring up at the stars and holding hooves.

“Big events coming up, you know.” Rarity said, her voice an octave higher, lost in the moment. “Your grand re-opening, the new look for Sweet Apple Acres.”

“Yep. This town keeps changing, even though its heart stays the same.”

Rarity glanced at him. “You really do care about Ponyville, don’t you?”

“Ponyville took me in even when I wanted to be anywhere else, and it took care of mine when they came back sick. And it cared for me and my daughter when we were alone.” He turned towards her. “And as long as I have any kind of power to help out, I will.”

“Very noble of you. You’re like our own Princess. When Twilight’s away, anyway.”

He coughed. “I think the word is ‘Prince.’”

She frowned. “I only know two princes, and one of them is a ponce.” He laughed. She snuggled closer, closing her eyes and feeling his heartbeat. It soothed her. Everything was right. 

Except for one little, nagging... 

“Rich?”

“Yes?”

“You said you never held a diamond?”

“Yes.”

Rarity bit her lip. Her heart fought with her brain on these next words, and her brain won out. “What about Diamond Tiara’s, er, Diamond Tiara? I notice she doesn't wear it anymore, but for years it seemed to never leave her head. Surely you’ve picked it up once or twice?”

He said nothing for awhile. She cursed herself and her traitor tongue. Then cleared his throat and muttered something inaudible.

She wrinkled her nose. “Couldn’t hear you dear.” 

“It’s not real.” He sighed.

“Really?”

“When Wild Woods passed, Tiara wouldn’t stop crying. No matter what we did, she cried and cried and cried. Then one day, I’m walking through the town square market, and she sees this little crown. It looks nice, but it’s costume jewelry. Well crafted tin and cubic zirconium. Not a cheap little thing, mind you, but not real either. Still, she put it on her head, and, like magic, she started smiling again.”

Rarity whispered. “Oh my.”

“And she climbed onto my back and we walked around town like all was right in the world. She laughed, she smiled." He closed his eyes, holding her tighter. "I’ve never had the heart to tell her it’s fake.”

She nuzzled his neck. “Does it matter?”

“Actually, it does. It made it much easier to replace it the one time she lost it on the train to Manehattan.”

A lady does not snort, but a snort-like noise came out of Rarity’s mouth that she immediately pretended never happened.

He turned to face her. “Rarity…”

“Yes, Fil?”

“You need to know something. My daughter, she’s the world to me.” Rarity nodded and Rich continued. “I’m not saying I need her approval, but if you’re with me, you’re with my daughter. Do you understand?”

Rarity hugged him. “Of course. Sweetie is the same to me. She can be difficult, but she is my family.”

His nod turned into a confused stare. "She is your sister, right? But she lives with you?"

She sighed. "Yes, and yes. It's complicated. Speaking of complicated, there's a teenage dragon who is not going to be very fond of you."

“I can handle Spike. Or rather, I can ask the Princess to help with Spike. But your sister and Diamond, those two… do not get along.”

“No,” Rarity sighed. “They don’t.”

“Maybe they could be friends, though? I doubt they’ve actually tried.”

“Mmm.”

A cloud passed over the moon, and Rarity shivered. Rich held her close. “So what happens now?”

“I don’t know.” Rarity replied. “I’m a stranger here myself.”

“We’ll never be royals, you know.” Rich said, his voice tired but serene. “I told my daughter she’d be a Princess, but… she isn’t going to be. You would never be, even if this works out, you and I. All those slots are filled.”

Rarity lifted her head. “But if it works out, I’d have you, yes?

Rich laughed. “If that’s any consolation. And Ponyville.” 

“Ah yes, Lady Rarity of Ponyville.” She shrugged, and re-settled back into his neck. “Let others worry about their crowns,” she purred. “Balls and gowns aren’t all they’re cracked up to be anyway.”

He kissed her forehead. She smiled. They gazed upwards as a shooting star flew by. Luna’s sky was bright, endless and filled with possibility.