A forbidden child is raised in the outskirts of Equestria.
When an experienced huntress finds an abandoned egg deep in the Darkwood and claims it as a trophy, she has no idea the adventure she's signing up for. Will she be able to handle the burden of raising the hatchling in secret, or will the unwary child be her death? And what happens when the child befriends the daughter of the most powerful mare in the province?
When many imagine nobility, images of regal gowns, lavish stones set in golden chains, and bountiful feasts on grand tables are typically the kind to be conjured. A camouflaged mare crouching in the mud, on the other hand, is generally the last thing to come to mind. Though her lineage was still respected by many who knew of it, the Unicorn named Rarity had never seen the era where her family had lived in the luxury of such extravagant material wealth. She was more than aware of her heritage, and what other ponies thought of her for it. To her, however, she was a commoner. A seamstress and peasant, noble only through her place in the small community that was Applesgate. These ponies depended on each other for survival, and her link in the chain was to make coats, shirts, and cloaks from hide and fur as her livelihood.
On this day, Rarity had been called to hunt; and it was now her temporary duty to help gather meat for the community. To do so, she had ventured towards the heart of the Darkwood alone, bearing only her leather cloak and a small but elegantly crafted bow and quiver. Very few delved half as deep into the forest even in the broadest of daylight, for the thick canopy and tangled vegetation forever casted a thorough shadow that gave the woods their local name. But Rarity was one of the few who defied the old superstitions, and knew that the best game came out at night: the well-fed predators that stalk their prey under the cover of absolute darkness.
That very reasoning was what drove Rarity to her current position, and she watched from the shrubbery as a large owlbear stood on its hind paws a stone’s throw away. Undoubtedly ignorant of its pursuer, it was stubbornly pecking away at a thick branch that held a number of dangling pomegranates just out of reach; biting into the limb with quick, jerking motions that made the feathers along its back sway like the waves of a calm seashore. Rarity closed her eyes to take a steadying breath, nocked an arrow, and aimed her bow cautiously with a magical aura. Her horn glowed with a matching light, just dim enough to not attract the beast’s attention.
“Back of the neck, right under the skull.” Rarity muttered far under her breath, drawing the bowstring back. There was a sharp thwip, and the animal let out a panicked screech before it crashed to the ground, dead. A whooping cry sounded through the forest as Rarity watched the arrow shudder out from the owlbear’s face; a steady trickle of blood ran out of the fatal wound, and mixed into the mud beneath it. She let her string slack as she looked into the trees with a huff, putting away the unspent arrow. “I’d appreciate it quite grandly if you’d stick to your side of the forest, Rainbow Dash!” She hissed, keeping her tone dangerously even. Her accusation was met by a cackling from amongst the branches as a brightly colored Pegasus glided down to perch on the felled beast like a hawk.
“Cripes, Rarity. Who shoved a stick up your plot?” The unwelcome mare laughed, scratching behind her left ear with a hindleg. She was covered from neck to frog in bark-like gambeson—a trick the ponies of Applesgate often used to blend in with the trees during a hunt—and most of her otherwise vibrantly multicolor mane was dulled with moss. A cocky smirk was smeared across her face, as was only normal for her. The only part beneath her neck that showed was her mark; a white cloud impaled with a jagged kukri. Obscuring half of her left mark was a pink puncture scar that Rarity smirked at.
“What is ‘up my plot’ is of no concern of yours, Dash. Though to be quite frank, you’d do well to place yours elsewhere.” Rarity bit back, pulling out an ivory-handled dagger and approaching the kill with a knowing grin. “I thought we agreed that you’d stay within eyesight of town after our last rendezvous. You wouldn’t want to end up with another scar, would you?” Dash’s smile shattered at the remark, and she lowered herself into a protective crouch with a snarl as if hoping to guard the owlbear.
“Look, sissy, the game’s getting scarce back there. Forgive me for trying to feed myself here.”
“Yourself?” Rarity laughed as she stepped out of the mud, not caring a thimble for Dash’s threatening tone. “Our kills go to the same places, Dash, the only difference between what happens to our kills is that I am competent enough to know the difference between salvageable hide and fat. You might do better at finding the scarce meat if you didn’t announce yourself after every kill like a Minotaur with a broken back.”
Dash growled, grabbing the owlbear around the neck as she took to the sky without another word, and lifting the kill off the ground with little trouble in spite of its massive size. Rarity sighed in irritation, nocked another arrow as the Pegasus flew past her, and without so much as a glance she fired into the woods after her fleeing rival. The shot gained results almost instantly, and a pained yelp echoed back to her, accompanied by a loud crash from further in.
“She never learns…” Rarity muttered to herself, heading to where the clamour rose from. All talk, all action, no brains. That was Rainbow in Rarity’s eyes. She had no sense of tact, dignity, or proper use of her theatrics. Rarity could forgive the Pegasus for most of her shortcomings, even her insistence on bending every rule to her provide her an advantage. But she was brash. Thoughtless, brash, inconsiderate, and immensely easy to predict.
It wasn’t hard for Rarity to follow the typical trail of broken branches to find her quarry, even while she was preoccupied with her own thoughts. She turned her nose up with a grunt of annoyance at the sight of the owlbear’s unnatural position, the poor dumb thing possibly had at least a few broken bones after the fall. Fortunately for her, Rarity guessed that the meat and hide should still be useful. She levitated the bear without any strain, and raised her brow a bit as she moved her gaze to the otherwise occupied Dash, who was tangled in a mass of vines. Rarity’s arrow was sticking straight out of her cutie mark, directly adjacent to the previous scar, and Dash’s wriggling was surely causing herself a world of pain because of it. Rarity barely even blinked as she trotted up and yanked the tip out of Dash’s thigh, eliciting a scream of pain and a vicious thrashing.
“I’ll kill you for this, Rarity!” Dash screeched, managing to free her hoof and take a swing at the Unicorn that fell inches short. Rarity rolled her eyes bemusedly without a flinch, turning away from the arrogant creature. She heard several, far uglier threats thrown her way as she left—a few choice ones even involving her mother—but she knew better than to fear anything that an overconfident parakeet had to say.
“Don’t struggle too hard, dear, you’ll snap your neck.” She called back calmly, carrying the bear westward “And if you want to have a better chance of not being shot, stop making a beeline for the trail.”
“Garçon! Another Beavertooth, if you please.” Rarity shouted slurredly as she held her empty mug into the air, and scattered a number of hook shaped golden pieces onto the table she was using as a prop to keep her body off the ground. The middle-aged mare behind the bar looked to her, lowering her spectacles off of her pink mane to count the gold before shaking her head with a sigh.
“Pinkamena!” The barkeep called out, “take care of the Lady, she's thirsty.” The summons were answered in the blink of an eye as a bright pink flash came racing from the back to retrieve Rarity’s mug, vanishing in the same second. Rarity chuckled, watching as the blur froze in place beside her table, and saw that somehow it had avoided spilling the newly-filled vessel. The speedy pony’s name suited her immensely, given her saturated taffy pink coloring. Her curly fuschia mane fell splendidly beyond her shoulders, and she wore her signature optimistic smile.
“You never cease to amaze me, Pinks.” Rarity grinned, accepting the drink with an unsteady hoof. “Such a speed at any age is a rare gift indeed, and it’s certainly not wasted on you.” She tipped the mug in a kind gesture before tipping her head back to take a deep swig. Her mind hazed, rendering the barmaid’s response into an incomprehensible buzz before she even realized it. The kick of the ale was swift and brutal, knocking Rarity forward and sending a shiver up her spine which shook her into a state that teased lucidity. In her stupor, Rarity gave an apologetic look. “Sh-sorry, darling. I’m afraid I missed that, would you mind repeating it?”
“I said I appreciate the compliment, Rares.” Pinkamena laughed with a tone Rarity couldn’t quite decipher, setting her tray onto the table and playing with a lock of her mane. Pinkamena’s tone was patient, almost like a sister watching their sibling recover from a sugar crash. “And I wanted to know if you’d be awake for the show this time, to see your design in action?”
Rarity stared blankly at the filly for a few seconds before the words clicked, and she smiled sheepishly. Had she really blacked out for every show? They were infrequent enough occasions that she had plenty of time to remember that she shouldn’t get drunk, and she could swear she’d heard Pinkamena’s singing before. But as she searched her memories of the inn, none of them put the filly on the stage.
“I am so sorry, Pinks.” Rarity felt a strong thread of guilt weave into her heart, “I know how important your performances with your sisters are, I promise I’ll be awake to see this one.”
“Yeah, actually it'll just be me, trying ‘The Ballad of Queen Lun’.” Pinkamena said in a melancholy tone, catching Rarity’s confusion. “I’ve been working on a new style that’ll work solo, and I wanted to test it on something familiar. Something everyone knows, see how they like my take on it.”
“Why won’t your sisters be joining you?” Rarity felt a slimy dread creep and nest in the back of her neck, and her hackles rose as a lingering feeling of ghostly fire licked at her sides. Pinkamena seemed to recognize something as she met Rarity’s eyes, and she placed a gentle hoof on Rarity’s.
“They’re okay, Miss Rarity. My sisters are fine.” She assured, wrapping her foreleg around Rarity’s shoulder. “Maud’s in the room helping Limey pack, they’re going back home. They’ll be helping serve the food tonight, but after that, they’re going to finish up the preparations for the trip.” Rarity’s eyes fell onto the polished wood of the table, staring blankly for a moment before they slowly shut. She gently pulled her head up, inhaling deeply and forcing the discomfort out.
“I really have been a disappointment for your family, haven’t I?” Rarity muttered weakly, the thread of guilt thickening into a chain of sludge. Pinkamena flinched back as if she’d been slapped, the affection falling out of her hug. Rarity didn’t need to see the conflict on Pinkamena’s face, she could feel it in the way the filly moved. Slowly, the filly’s hug was peeled away completely, and the sound of hooves dropping on the floor echoed like the drop of a pin in a catacomb.
“I don’t resent you for what happened, Rarity.” Pinkamena offered, stepping back and picking up the tray. “None of us do, we’re just…” Rarity held up a hoof, cutting Pinkamena off.
“I know you don’t, Pinks.” She smiled emptily, lifting the glass in a bitter salute. “Doesn’t mean that I don’t.” Pinkie opened her mouth to speak while Rarity greedily downed the mug of ale, only for the both of them to be interrupted by the door of the inn slamming open.
“You sadistic, no-good, showoff bitch!”
Rarity rolled her eyes as the thick accent flooded the hall, turning every head but hers. Pinks froze in horror at the foul tone, before glancing to the doorway and crawling back with her ears down. There were only three ponies in town who swore like that, and Rarity left one of them in the forest. Rarity let out a tired sigh, finished swallowing what was left of her hard drink, and turned.
“A good afternoon to you as well, Applejack.” She chimed coldly. The bellow came from a sturdy, sunset-orange mare that stomped towards Rarity’s table with clear purpose. Her nostrils flared, and her ears flicked angrily against the wide-brimmed leather bolero that sat comfortably on her golden mane. For any other pony, when those emerald-green eyes locked onto them with the same intensity they burned with now, they knew there would be no leaving without some form of scar. For Rarity, however, the only burning she felt was the alcohol in her throat. She met the challenger’s glare with a look of pure apathy, eagerly awaiting the storm to pass. “If you expect me to trod back into those woods, I’m going to need a larger wagon.”
“Don't y’all go trying to shove this’un away, Rares!” Applejack snapped angrily, smacking a firm hoof onto the table. “Ah just got word from the patrol. They came back from hauling that bluebird out of another tangle an hour ago, and Fluttershy’s working on patching up her flank! That's the third time this month y’all shot her down, and Ah want t’ know why!” Rarity stared bemusedly, frowning as she noticed that Pinkamena looked ready to cry.
“I've explained myself before,” Rarity asserted, calmly setting her mug down. “Each time it’s been the same reasoning. It hasn’t changed, and quite frankly I'm getting tired of repeating myself.”
“Alright, look.” Applejack shut her eyes, her stance relaxing. She rubbed a hoof against the bridge of her muzzle, and her tone cooled down. “Ah get it, really Ah do. she still ain’t forgiven you for stealing her glory and she’s making it hard on you, you’re within your rights to clip her wings every now and then. But Ah swear, you're more territorial than an ursa!” She glared daggers past her hoof, eying Rarity with unrestrained ire. “When it comes down to it, she’s your partner for this season. Ya shouldn't be stringing her up like bait for timberwolves just because she shot first. It's careless and short-sighted, and we can't afford to lose any more hunters.”
Rarity glanced back at Applejack sharply, a swift rage boiling her blood at those words. “Yes, because that's all he was, isn't it? A dog to fetch our food?”
“You know that's not what Ah meant, Rarity!” Applejack flinched, visibly growing more frustrated. “Now don't you go changing the subject. Ah’ll make this easy for you to understand; If ya keep putting arrows in her flank, she ain't gonna be worth anything to this town. Ah don’t think she can take that, not yet.”
“Yes, because her contributions are phenomenal as-is.” Rarity quirked her brow, still showing only a chilled disinterest. “I doubt I need to remind you why we ordered her to stay by the borders of the forest.”
“Aw, shit, Ah can't argue with you tonight.” Applejack visibly deflated, lifting her flanks off the stool. “Just try to find ways to discipline her that don’t involve shooting her down, alright? Think you can manage letting her get away with a little more?”
“Fine, have it your way.” Rarity deadpanned with a grimace, turning towards the stage. “But mark my words, Applejack; if the rules can bend, the rules will break.”
“It’s my town, Rarity. I’ll make sure the rules don’t bend past what they can take!” Applejack barked, shoving herself away and storming out of the inn. Once again alone at the table, Rarity let out a long, anguished breath as her eyes began to sting with fresh tears.
What happened to us? She asked herself, the chains tightening around her heart. We used to be sisters, and now we fight like badgers whenever we cross paths. Celestia pardon us, at this rate we’ll be at each other’s throats by the end.
The mental interrogation grew numbing and ceaseless in spite of her attempts to ignore it. When her mind kept asking for answers, her lips had none. She picked up her drink in hopes of drowning out the questions, only to be disappointed by an empty mug. She didn’t need to deal with this. Not now, not ever. If she were going to survive long enough to move on, to have hope, she’d just need to endure the heartbreak until she could find something else worth living for.
Rarity’s ears twitched as a flute began to play from behind the stage, and she looked to see Pinkamena on the platform bobbing steadily to the lively rhythm. She was wearing a dress of polished purple scales, a small gemstone set in the corner of the V neckline. A frock of Rarity’s craft, which she recognized immediately. In spite of herself, Rarity smiled, and Pinkamena beamed right back as both of their hooves began to tap to the beat of the music. Once her cue came, the pink pony opened her lips with a twirl and began to pour out the clearest voice in the village.
‘Round the water, through the trees. Past the rivers of the breeze Was once a city of gold shimmering Where ponies would kneel before our queens Crowns of silver woven with fate Eyes full of love and empty of hate Come little ones, and hear me sing Of time long past, a forgotten date
We worked hard stone, we played in the field The laws of nature to our kind would yield Yet clock struck doom and robbed our power From that day on our fate was sealed The night was when rest was well earned And in envy strong your heart was turned For time was nigh that ponies should cower As the first fury was summoned to burn
Queen Lun, Queen Lun, we weep of your fate by the hooves of your grief Pray tell, pray tell, why did you forsake those who praised your belief We sang, we danced, we played through the night powered only by drink Ignored, ignored is not what you were, pray tell why was that what you think
Came the Drake named Chala-Umiir Sending your subjects fleeing in fear Yet you declared him welcome instead And fattened him up with bread and beer He said many words both sour and sweet He refused even the tastiest meat Though many a pony wanted him dead You ensured that he could have their heads...
As she listened to the new tune to the old ode, Rarity felt herself relax. It was a well-aged poem to be sure, telling of the fall of the beloved Queen Beanna Gealach a thousand years past. Rarity herself wasn’t there, but she fondly recalled the stories of her ancestors. What it was like in the city of Canterlot at the time of the Great Isolation, and how the first of the Belle line was handmaiden to the Queen of the Night herself.
Queen Réalta an Domhain Down in blaze of glory-fire came Begged her sister “Don’t let him stay For our people he will slay” You scoffed and drank another round O’er piles and bodies you’ve not found The Drake seduced your heart with words And to him, your loyalty bound
Queen Lun, Queen Lun, we weep of your fate by the hooves of your grief Pray tell, pray tell, why did you forsake those who praised your belief We sang, we danced, we played through the night powered only by drink Ignored, ignored is not what you were, pray tell why was that what you think...
Pinkamena’s voice was remarkable to hear; it bathed the room in song like a tide of hope, all while ringing with a deep softness. It was optimistic, yet sober. Youthful, yet sophisticated and refined. It contradicted how she sounded in conversation by a good few octaves. While her normal tones could carry an upbeat tune with a sensational lack of fault or dischord, how well she adapted to a resonant tone was something that astonished Rarity as she listened.
For the rest of the night, Rarity remained seated at the same table, mug empty as crowds and conversations faded in and out of the inn.
Rarity wrinkled her nose as the stench of the work proceeding around her perforated her nostrils and assaulted her senses. It had stopped bringing gagging tears to her eyes only a month ago, but she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to fully ignore it.
As she walked to the tanner’s counter, she couldn’t help but notice a young colt pedaling away on one of the horrid-looking contraptions, rolling a large barrel that vomited black sludge from a rectangular hole in its side whenever turned to the floor.
“A’right, Mrs. Stone, Ah’m guessing you’re here to pick up yesterday’s hide?” A deep voice called from the back of the building. Rarity glanced away from the tired colt to see a burly, red Earthen stallion standing by a large shelf stacked with yellowed parcels. His golden mane was obviously dirtied from a day’s work, but his green eyes always remained as bright as they had ever been. Rarity smiled at him, and rolled her eyes.
“Not at all, Macintosh, I just decided to stop by and smell the fresh air.” She giggled as she pulled a few small pouches from the satchel across her back. “And please, it’s... Belle now. Just Ms. Belle.”
“Right, sorry Ma’am.” Macintosh’s generous grin faded a little as he grabbed one of the larger packages.
“Oh, pish posh, it’s quite alright.” Rarity scolded, waving her hoof. “I think it’s time.” She placed the pouches on the shelf with a metallic clatter. “One-hundred and fifty still the normal wage?”
Macintosh nodded silently as he heaved the load onto a small wagon, adding on a few smaller bundles. He started to push the wagon towards the open entrance of the tannery, but paused as he drew alongside Rarity. She gave him a curious look, but he didn’t meet her gaze, choosing instead to stare ahead at the open entrance.
“Rarity, Ah...” He started, a small hesitation in his voice giving what was on his mind away to Rarity. Macintosh stayed in place for a moment before shaking his head, and shoving the cart forward with an inaudible sigh. Rarity lifted her hoof towards him, but quickly decided against it. Now wasn’t the time.
Once Macintosh had escorted her out of the tannery, Rarity took to pushing the cart with her magic. She brought the skins through the streets of the small town, the thatchwood roofs of the simple plaster houses casting cooling shadows over her. Once her own home came into sight, a small shack on the corner of the path caught her eye. It wasn’t a gaudy shack by any stretch of the imagination. By all realities, it was probably the most humble building in the entire settlement. The only major visual difference that separated it from the others was a large sign with a blue wing painted on, the sign of a Healer.
Rarity hung her head, and chuckled under her breath. She knew that her mind wouldn’t let her rest until she paid somepony a visit. She parked her cart by the front entrance, flicking her neck to cast a quick lock spell over it, and walked inside the hospice.
The scent of mud and medicine permeated the interior, and various herbs and ivies had grown in planters that worked with thick curtains to separate several small cots along the north wall. To her right, Rarity spotted a blonde-coated Pegasus mumbling to herself behind a workbench, the open shelves stacked with bottles of colored liquids and powders. Adjacent to the station were a few cupboards, doubtlessly filled with similar ingredients. The Pegasus pulled aside her blush pink mane to spare a moment’s glance at Rarity before letting it fall back over her eyes, and wordlessly nodding to the back of the building.
“Thank you, Fluttershy.” Rarity nodded back with a smile, turning and leaving the murmuring mare to her own devices. She combed what she could see of the cots in the back until her eyes landed on a bicolor blue tail peeking out from behind one of the curtains. Rarity approached the bed quietly, greeted by the sight of a frail pink Unicorn carefully laid on it. There was a cast around their left foreleg, and red-stained bandages on her head. They didn’t move or react to Rarity’s presence, the only sign of life being the gentle rise and fall of their chest. Rarity let out a small sigh, and sat down next to the cot.
“Hello, mother.” She whispered, placing a hoof on the pony’s chest. “I’m back.”
Her hooves clattered firmly on the sleek marble floor, the determination in her gait echoing a testament to the urgency of the information she carried. Seven scrolls and a stack of worn tomes were held in her pink aura, and the reflection of her horn’s glow shimmered off of the spectacles balanced precisely on the edge of her snout. Her eggplant mane was pulled back into a proper glide down the back of her neck, the exception being a lone lock of magenta and violet hanging freely beside her eye. She approached a pair of gilded iron doors, the emblem of the sun wrought in gold and silver across them. Two figures completely concealed inside golden armor quickly raised their spears to let her pass through, whether they were standing in salutation or bowing in reverence was a detail she paid no mind to. Her mind was focused, and her appearance calm even as she felt sweat bead up underneath her coat.
The light around her horn grew brighter, encasing the doors entirely and pushing them outward with almost no visible strain on the Unicorn. She stepped out onto the platform, facing a small and sleek airship resembling a skiff. She smiled, approaching the dock and nodding to the pilot whom she towered over. Something was about to happen in the Eastern Territories, she’d seen it, and she’d be damned if she wasn’t there to catalogue it.
Rarity kept a careful watch on the trees surrounding her while she levitated her latest kills into the back of a large orthros-drawn wagon, and hung her bow and quiver on a pair of hooks on the back of her seat. She winced as a small trickle of a large jackalope’s blood dripped onto her coat, and allowed herself a quick count of the game. A family of hares from a few traps, hardly a meal fit to last a single family for a full day. But it would have to do; she felt the unmistakable gaze of looming eyes on the back of her head, and she knew she needed to leave as soon as she could.
With a click of her tongue, Rarity sat on the front of the wagon as the two-headed beast obediently pulled the cart down the path ahead. This was a road she had traversed many times since she first became a hunter, and she trusted its bends with her eyes closed. In a way it made her feel safe, as it served as a dividing line for the forest; to the south of it was her hunting grounds, to the north a depth of the wood that even she rarely dared to set hoof in. Today, even though it looked the same as it always did, Rarity felt something amiss. The unprecedented silence. From birds to rodents, no creature was willing to make a noise. Even the orthros seemed unnerved, pacing carefully as if it sensed something close. Every being of the forest was on edge, and the possibility that she was being hunted never left Rarity’s mind.
So it was, until a heavy gust of wind from the north upset the wagon, and threw Rarity to the dirt. The trees on either end of the path crackeded and moaned as some heavy unseen thing fled into the clouds above the woods, and the orthros’ heads whined as it tried to duck into the brush. Rarity didn’t need to look to know what the massive thing was, the sound of its wings and the pressure of its flight was enough to send her into a panic. She ducked back into the wagon, prepared to feel a blast of heat render the forest to ash.
But no fire came, nor did the heavy wingbeats return. The beast had fled completely, leaving Rarity utterly baffled. Once she was able to calm her heart to a steady pace, she huffed the stray locks of her mane away from her eyes, and lifted her head to look into the forest.
“Wonderful, now I’m curious…” she muttered bitterly, lifting the snared hares back into the cart and dragging the panicked dog out of a thicket. She took its heads in her hooves, and shushed them comfortingly. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s gone. I’m going to take a look, okay? You take the wagon home.” She held the dominant head, staring into its eyes with a gentle firmness in hopes it got the message.
“Home,” she repeated, “do you understand? Home, go!” The orthros didn’t seem like it was too eager to stick around, quickly following Rarity’s command and briskly pulling the wagon down the road. She watched to make sure it was well on its way before she turned to stare into the mass of tangled black trees that was the deep north of the Darkwood.
She was frozen, but she couldn’t tell if it was in irrational fear or pure mystification. Dragons of that size have never arrived to civilization unannounced, nor have they attempted to avoid unaccompanied ponies. Hell, if her memory served as well as she knew it to, they wouldn’t even try to avoid an entire town’s worth. But this one was alone with her in the woods, and it flew? Even as skilled as she was, her weapons held as much threat against it as a feather. Surely, it should have known how vulnerable she was, and by her best guess at the distance there was no chance in Hell it wasn’t completely aware of her presence.
These questions and more brought on a curiosity that she could have fought off, but there was something else keeping her from leaving. She couldn’t place exactly why, but she felt herself drawn towards the deep of the Darkwood, as if her mind and heart heard a call that her ears were deaf to. Where the more superstitious of ponies would suspect this to be some sort of black enchantment and force themselves to ignore it with all their willpower, she hesitated. Something about it felt far too familiar to ignore, as if she’d felt it before but couldn’t place where.
With resolve and caution, Rarity stepped into the silent tangle of roots and brush. She glided through the forest almost without a sound; stepping over logs and thorns, evading leaves and branches with practiced ease. To any observer, the Unicorn would have appeared as a ghost. White, swift, and silent. She navigated carefully through the unfamiliar shrubbery for what must have been hours, the strange pull causing her to venture where the woods were so dark that she almost didn’t see the clearing ahead until she fell into it.
And fall she did, as her hoof caught a rogue stone, earning her a face full of soil and a mouth full of shrub. She wiped the dirt and grass from her face with a disgusted miff, spitting out the torn leaves while she stood to her hooves. It took her a number of seconds to realize where she was, and actively take notice of her surroundings. The longer she investigated, the more the peculiarity of it all sank in for her,
The appearance of the clearing wasn’t entirely natural, the level ground and charred flora were obvious indications of a sapient species’ tampering. But the work didn’t seem forebodingly intricate in its design either, rather brutish and savage in its execution. The canopy over the level clearing was open, letting the midday sunlight through to bathe the healthy green grass that coated the forest floor in sunlight. The only significant structure was a set of large stones placed in the center of the flattened grass, a sort of monument Rarity had never seen before, though she recognized the crude architecture as that of a Dragon’s doing.
At the sight of it, a part of her chest tightened with stress and screamed that she should flee before the monster came back. But the call in her core demanded that she look closer. And with no small amount of wariness, Rarity gingerly approached the obelisk. Each stone with which the thing was built towered over her, promising to crush her if they ever lost balance as she circled it. Her eyes scanned the base of the structure, looking for an opening.
It was hardly a minute before she located the entrance; a crude, misshapen hole that could be mistaken for the gap left by a missing boulder. And just inside the space, lying in a bed of dried grass, was a sight that made Rarity’s heart stop.
An egg, light violet and speckled with darker shades. It wasn’t as large as she expected it to be, standing upright it looked to be about the size of her head. Rarity felt a thick lump form in her throat as her heart dropped into her stomach, the evident implications of what she had strolled head-first into brought even more questions to the front of her mind. Questions that she didn’t have time for, as a very bold and very stupid idea began to formulate in the back of her mind.
Rarity looked around, vigilantly double-checking her surroundings as well as she could to make certain she wasn’t being watched or hunted. The near blackness that stretched beyond the sun-bathed clearing made it difficult, until the twitter of birds calling to one another stirred Rarity from her fearful surveyance. Once she realized what the sound was, her muscles relaxed. And she carefully, cautiously stepped inside the structure.
“You brought back a Dragan egg?!” Applejack’s voice thundered through Rarity’s home, accompanied nicely by the sound of her door being shoved open with a fury.Rarity kept her focus on gently placing her trophy atop her mantelpiece, situating it softly on an improvised stand made of an aged fabric scarf. Only once the egg was secure in place did she turn to face the fuming farmer with an impassive stare, her brow arching slightly with surprise as Pinkamena carefully walked in behind Applejack.
“Yes, I have.” Rarity snorted, standing up in front of the fireplace. “Is there something you wish to discuss about it?”
“You should know how damned stupid that is!” Applejack’s face wrinkled with fury the instant her eyes landed on the egg. She stomped towards it with green fire in her eyes, and raised a hoof to bash the cursed thing. But her strike never landed, and she stumbled back with a reflexive jerk of her head when a stinging pain swept across her cheek.
Rarity lowered her own foreleg to her chest, shaking the ache of the back-hooved slap. She saw Pinkamena’s hindlegs tense out of the corner of her eye, likely in preparation to fetch the tanner in case of another brawl. Rarity turned to Pinkamena, and gave her a subtle nod to wait. She remained outwardly collected, and stepped between her trophy and Applejack. She spoke in a smooth, deceptively patient tone.
“Indeed, it would be beyond imbecilic of me to bring a fertile Dragan egg into town. Let alone for me to place such an item as a prize in my home.” She assured Applejack, watching the matriarch rub the red mark her slap left. “Now, I want you to put aside your compulsive wrath for one moment and use that reasoning I know you’re capable of. Please?”
Applejack’s eyes showed no intention of quenching the hateful fury behind them as they darted between Rarity and the accursed egg, but she wordlessly sat herself down to show that she was at least willing to listen.
“Applejack,” Rarity started again, keeping her tone neutral as she mirrored Applejack’s gesture. “Would it make sense for me, of all ponies, to deliberately provoke the wrath of a Dragan by sneaking into her nest and pilfering her spawn?”
Applejack’s stance relaxed slightly, but her eyes continued to dart between Rarity and her trophy. But progress was progress, and that was enough to bring a minute smile to Rarity’s face. Pinkamena visibly relaxed as well, and slowly disappeared from the doorway.
“Precisely, I wouldn’t ever endanger our ponies like that.” Rarity concluded, carefully choosing her words. “I’ll openly state that when I stumbled across the nest, I had no intention of doing anything other than collapsing it upon whatever it held. But, the reason I went to investigate that corner of the wood in the first place is because the mother had abandoned it.”
“And how in the blue hell did ya deduce that?” Applejack scoffed, stamping her hoof away from her face.
“Because her flight knocked me down.” Rarity deadpanned, “I never saw her, she was above the clouds before I could catch so much as a glance of the tip of her tail.”
“Hah! Ah--” Applejack started a biting remark, but snapped her mouth shut just as fast. The indignation written across her face shifted to a tone of comprehension, as if Rarity’s words had just snapped in place, and the tension left her muscles completely. Applejack seemed to chew on the revelation for a good few seconds, inevitably coming to the same conclusion Rarity arrived at.
“So, it’s a dud?” Applejack’s voice was tinged with wariness as she cast another glance towards the centerpiece. She clearly wasn’t completely satisfied, but bewildered enough to leave it alone for now. Rarity nodded, standing up as her mind drifted to an unused tea set sitting in the kitchen.
“Do you want to stay for tea, Applejack?” She offered, pacing away with a nostalgic tinge in her chest. “It’s been a long time since we sat together, as friends.”
“Yeah, that sounds…” Applejack’s tone was thoughtful as she kept her eyes on the egg, turning her head slightly towards Rarity. “... that would be nice.”
Pinkamena let out a startled squawk as the large crate she was hoisting crashed into its place on the covered wagon, clattering and creaking as if its contents were jeopardized. She quickly raised both forehooves to her muzzle, and glanced worriedly at her sister. The elder filly irritatedly rolled her eyes, and gave Pinkamena’s poll a firm but harmless swat. Rarity watched the interaction with a bittersweet chuckle before returning her attention to the older mare to her side.
“I’ll be sorry to see your wonderful family leaving so soon, Mrs. Quartz.” A saccharine melancholy stained Rarity’s voie as she hugged her friend. “You’ve been such a blessing to our community, and so considerate. Applesgate will be worse off without you.”
Mrs. Quartz silently blushed, and returned the hug, squeezing Rarity almost too tightly. It was a sorry scene to Rarity, knowing that the inns and homes of Applesgate would be empty of the Pie Family’s laughter. She felt a few tears drip onto her shoulder, and carefully nudged the weeping mare.
“There there, darling. I know,” Rarity cooed comfortingly. “I know it’s hard, but I promise you that we’ll keep her safe. You know Mrs. Cake will watch Pinkamena as if she was her own daughter. She’ll be the first to safety in any disaster.”
Quartz remained silent, but nodded her head as she pulled out of the hug. Rarity recognized the look in the mother’s reddened eyes; it was a sad sort of acceptance in the fact that one of her children was staying behind as she moved on. Rarity tilted her head, and reached up to lift Quartz’s chin.
“Tell you what,” she offered, the bite of tears tugging at the corners of her eyes. “I’m going to visit Phyllite before I go home. It’s been too long since I went his way, and I’m sure he’d appreciate it. Why don’t you come with me? You might even get to say goodbye to Applejack there as well, no need to take the girls.”
Quartz gave Rarity a long look, then sighed as she turned to the wagon. The fillies had finished loading everything they needed from the house, and Pinks was making the rounds of embracing each of her sisters at least ten times, and saying something about more hugs meaning more love for them to remember her by. Rarity knew what was on the quiet mare’s mind, and nodded her head.
“I understand, darling.” She mumbled, closing her eyes in a final effort to hold back her tears. “I’ll tell him you said hello, then. Let you go on your way.”
Pinkamena approached the pair with reverence, pausing for a moment before embracing her mother with a desperate grasp that squeezed the poor mare. Rarity turned and walked back to the town gates as she heard both mother and daughter start to cry, deciding to give them some space to say goodbye.
It wasn’t long after that Rarity and Pinkamena sat together, and watched the wagon roll further and further over the hills until it disappeared altogether. The Pie Family had made their exodus, and they were bound for a new home. The two ponies continued to stare into the horizon long after the wagon had disappeared, watching until the afternoon sun began its descent. Sooner than they realized, the chill south wind of the evening had wafted over them.
“Do you think they’ll be okay?” Pinkamena shivered, pulling her clothes tighter as she looked up to Rarity with concern.
“They’re Pies, like you,” Rarity’s expression remained sorrowfully pleasant as she stared out. She felt like she could see something beyond the hills that reminded her of memories long forgotten. “They’ll always be okay. No matter what happens to them, they’ll be fine.”
“I miss them already,” Pinkamena yawned wearily, her gait matching her tone as she drudged back to the gate. To that, Rarity turned, smiling gently.
“We all do, Pinkamena.” She wrapped a hoof around the filly’s shoulders, hugging her close as they walked into town.
Rarity’s hooves dragged as she stepped through the stone arch, her eyes glancing over the hundreds of small obelisks jutting coldly from the barren dirt of the somber site. Her blood chilled, and she allowed her heart to bite into her stomach as she approached one of the many mounds of dirt paired beside another, smaller patch. She sat down at the side of the first obelisk, and gently placed a hoof onto its smooth surface. It had been over a month since she visited them, and her tears had all been spent, but the pain was still there. The memories were still there. Good and bad, they lingered on, and there was no way for her to wash her hooves of them.
The field was as silent as it had ever been, the only sounds being either the wind or the occasional echo of commotion from Applesgate. It was as if the thought of speech itself was torn from the throats of anypony who entered, in reverence of the crushing reality this site stood for. Rarity hummed an old tune as her hoof slowly slid across the face of the stone, wiping away the dew and dust to allow her eyes the sight of a name she rarely heard anymore, but could never forget. The back of her eyes stung, but no tears came. Only a sad smile changed the shape of her face as she stood, and sat next to the smaller of the twin tablets, still humming the lullabic melody.
Tenderly, she embraced the small stone, choking on her voice as she slowly opened her mouth to sing in an old tongue. The lyrics were quick and harsh, in spite of the gentle tone in her words. The song itself was as old as the language, but the translation was only known to those who speak it. Though even to a child the meaning was clear. It was a song of deep mourning, the mere sound of it able to weaken the strongest hearts to the warm chills of sorrow.
Rarity jumped briefly when she felt a hoof wrap around her side, but felt her nerves cool as another voice joined in sync with her melody. She regained from her falter, and together they sang to the markers in the field.
Rarity’s eyes flew open, her heart was racing. There were voices, all crying out in fear and hatred as the deafening roar of an inferno pummeled the town and shook the charred walls around her. Her breathing was heavy and rapid, her throat burning with the taste of ash and the taste of burned hair. Painful tears of both water and blood slid down her cheeks as she scrambled out from underneath the cabinets, searching the rubble around her desperately the second the thunderous wingbeats passed her by. She fled from the blackened remains of her boutique, desperate to find him. To find both of them. Fires leapt up from every building she could see, reaching into the sky like a forest of great clawed fingers. The putrid stench of burning flesh grew stronger, nearly causing her to vomit in the street. Seven duplicate shadows danced around her, stretching from her hooves and crackling with the sound of cinders aflame.
“Mommy!” Rarity’s neck whipped towards the direction of the scream before she could process it, turning her towards the voice of a young filly from somewhere inside of a small shed. “Mommy! Daddy’s hurt!”
Rarity bit her lip, and charged the doors. She smashed into them with all her might, sending fiery splinters in all directions as she fell to the floor. Smoke billowed above her as fire belched out with a boom, writhing and whirling like a wounded serpent once it was allowed to escape. She didn’t give herself time to recover, fighting through the haze and scorching her coat just to climb towards the poor filly’s screams.
“He’s not waking up!” Rarity felt her heart sink at those words, fear gripping at every muscle in her body. But she pushed on, she couldn’t give up yet. She stood up to take a breath, closed her eyes, and began to race faster through the debris, leaping through a patch of smoke as thick as stone in a desperate attempt to reach the trapped ponies.
But when she fell back down, it wasn’t burning wood that her hooves landed on. Instead she felt the cold, jagged smoothness of frozen stone on her frogs. In contrast, her back and legs still felt the harsh beatings of the nearby blazes. The air was knocked from her lungs when her chest smashed against the firm ground, her forelegs had slipped upon the unexpected contact and threw her into rolling for a few feet. She opened her eyes, slowly this time, burdened with pain and weariness, and looked around her. She was in the courtyard of some mountain monastery, overlooking the conflagration that tormented Applesgate from far above. A gutteral hum tore her attention away from the carnage of her home, and locked her panicked eyes upon the massive silhouette of a mighty Drake.
The sight of the beast caused her blood to run cold, and her heart began to ache as it pulsed at paces beyond natural. Her stomach heaved with revulsion as the beast towered over her, its scales dented and impaled by ponish weapons. It turned its long neck, and slithered its massive head down to focus solely on her. The moon suddenly shone forth as if the night sky was covered by a curtain that had been pulled away, revealing the true nature of the monster. Its head was like a spade, shielded with a thick brown crest acting nearly like a helmet, and its eyes peered with green fury from behind locks of golden feathers. Its tail was raised to strike, a curved blade of pure steel stretching from the tip.
Rarity’s eyes were torn from the beast when she heard weak sobbing, and she realized she was holding a small filly in her arms. Parts of the foal’s pink mane and pearl coat were missing or blackened, and blood that wasn’t their own covered both of them.
“I’m scared,” the young thing muttered, too weak to fight what came next. “Please, I don’t like this, I don’t understand.”
“There, there,” Rarity held the filly close, and cooed in a tone as comforting as she could manage as she looked back to the dragon. “I’m sorry, but everything will be alright. This will all be over soon.”
The serpent’s eyes flared, and the tail began to move. Swiftly the blade drew closer, and aligned itself with Rarity’s neck. Her breathing steadied, she closed her eyes, and listened as the monastery around them collapsed under the weight of the dragon.
“SWEETIE BELLE!” Rarity sat up with a start, her coat drenched with sweat down to her hooves. Her sheets were mussed and torn from her distress, and her mane was frantic and disheveled. Her wide eyes stuck immediately to the doorway as the echoes of a loud clutter sounded from downstairs. Disorientedly, she pawed herself out of bed and into her slippers.
“Quite the hour to have visitors, I daresay.” She grumbled hoarsely, sliding a dagger from underneath her pillow with her magic as she rolled her eyes at herself. “Though of course I’m complaining about waking up from such a wonderful sleep. What could even be..”
A shiver went down her spine when she heard a metallic trill ring through her home, not a sound she’d ever heard before, even in the deepest woods. Her mind immediately focused on the egg. How could she have been so foolish! Some scavenger of infertile Dragan eggs must have followed its scent into her home. No doubt this creature’s hide would be thick enough for it to be a considerable threat, if it ate the eggs of such monsters. She cast a quick spell on her hooves, and walked towards the stairway.
Carefully, she set one hoof on the wall nearest to her, then the next. Without making a sound, she made her way onto the ceiling, holding her belly tightly against the surface as she eyed the ground beneath her. She gracefully scurried along the smooth surface like a large spider, and stopped when she caught sight of her new trophy.
The egg was busted open, and all the other ornaments were lying in a pool of stenchful white goop that no doubt used to be inside the egg. Rarity considered that perhaps the beast had retreated from her home after eating what it came for, but a clatter of pots and pans from her kitchen quickly discouraged her from hoping for an easy night. She took a deep breath, and continued to scuttle along the roof towards the source of the clamour, just when a sound like an annoyed piglet accompanied the grinding noises.
When she arrived in the room, she was disappointed to find nothing obvious amongst the carnage. That meant whatever destroyed her home was going to be far smaller than she would’ve liked an egg-eater to be. The oinking noise grew louder as she crept from the ceiling to the walls, hoping for a lower vantage point to spot the vermin. Much to her delight, the thing appeared to have trapped itself under one of her largest pots. She moved her dagger to her muzzle, clamping the handle between her teeth as she cautiously stepped forward towards the upturned vessel. She took a stance that made her presence feel larger to most confrontational animals, and grabbed the pot with her magic. Swiftly, it was off the floor and the animal beneath was exposed. A small, frightened hatchling Drake.
Rarity wasn’t sure what she was expecting, perhaps some sort of abnormally large insect, quadrupedal bird or even a thick breed of ferret. But this was nothing she could’ve thought to prepare for. She was frozen in shock at the sight of the vile spawn, staring at it with a caution equal to what its eyes told as it stared at her.
The little creature was only the size of a newborn foal, and held itself awkwardly on four legs. Its scales were a light purple color, darkened from still being coated in a thin layer of mucus, and it had small green spines along its head and back that matched the scales on its underbelly. It looked up at her with two vivid emerald eyes set in a face that looked keenly similar to a foal’s, fear and confusion plastered over them. The oinking sound came from a thin membrane that appeared to be stuck on the thing’s snout, flapping into the nostrils and clearly giving the creature a hard time whenever it attempted to breathe.
Rarity continued to stare at the little savage as her mind processed the implications of this encounter. Surely the mother would come into the village looking for it? And if she did, she’d raze the settlement to the ground without hesitation, leaving nopony alive this time. But if she was going to do that, why would she abandon her egg with a pony so close? Dragans never leave their nests when even the smallest threat is near.
Her mind was snapped back into the present as the little thing stumbled towards her, and its vacant eyes now seemed to read her with some vague curiosity. Rarity snorted indignantly at that, it was just like a Dragon, not even an hour old and already considering a pony as nothing more than amusement. Swiftly, her dagger flew to the monster’s neck, and the blade placed steadily beneath its chin. Rarity closed her eyes, and prepared herself to be done with it.
But nothing happened. To say that the huntress was confused would do her an injustice, it would be difficult to explain the emotion that crossed her mind as her eyes opened back to an unmoved blade. The little Drake was staring at her with its wide, foalish eyes, barely comprehending the danger it was in. Rarity shook her head violently, and tried to close her eyes again. Was the infant’s armor that thick already? No, no she hadn’t even applied any force to the knife, and the scales felt as soft as any pony’s skin.
It was then that Rarity realized she had picked the creature up, acting on an instinct she couldn’t control. It pressed its head against her chest, listening to her heartbeat like any newborn would. Rarity chided herself, swearing under her breath at her own actions. What was she doing? If anypony saw her like this, she’d be reported immediately. That was a confrontation she was not willing to have, not for the sake of a Dragon.
She started to hum quietly as the infant relaxed, standing to her hooves while still holding him firmly with a forearm. If she was going to keep him, he needed to be a secret well kept. She looked away from the infant, and stepped out of the kitchen. A dark flicker of movement from outside the window caught her eye, but after a moment staring out she decided it was a bird.
Once she was at the base of the living room stairway, she took a sharp left turn and stood before a large shelf that had been bolted to the wall. The shelves were mostly taken up by a collection of miscellaneous materials- mostly leather or coarse fur -except for one space taken by a small, porcelain figurine of a slender Unicorn. Rarity took a deep breath as the little drake squirmed, and tilted the heirloom over. There was a quiet click, and the shelf swiftly slid itself upwards along the wall, exposing an opening just large enough for the mare to duck through. Once inside, she slid the opening closed behind her, feeling a swish of air across the back of her neck.
A small glow lit from the tip of her horn illuminated the spiraling stairs before her, descending into a compact cellar that smelled strongly of earth and entombed dust. She took care of where she placed her steps as she gently paced into the stillness, and twisted a knob in the dark with her magic. The loud click of the entrance shutting behind them echoed off the stone walls. The baby in her arms was now fast asleep as the glow of an oil lantern filled the room, emanating its own warmth but still clinging dearly to her chest. Rarity found herself smiling down at the creature as she stepped into the basement, weaving through chests and crates towards a large couch.
The couch itself was immensely plush, but still firm enough to provide comfort and a feeling of sturdiness. Its design was reminiscent of a large, red leaf trimmed with silver, with an armrest and pillow set only on one end. In front of the far end of the couch was a small nightstand, atop of which sat a small glass dome. And inside of that set a pair of golden rings. Rarity set herself comfortably on the cushions, only then did the reality of how tired she actually was sink in for her. She couldn’t summon the will to do much else than hold the creature close as she set her eyes on the rings with a sad smile, and muttered to herself while she fell into a warm darkness.
“Time to make things right, I suppose.”
There was a small flash of pink light in the corner of Rarity’s eye just before she welcomed the embrace of sleep.
The hooded figure stood outside the ornate building, smiling to themselves with an air of satisfaction. A burst of pink light, and a quill and scroll appeared in their hooves; along with a small inkwell. They quickly penned a long note, and removed their hood with a glow of magic. The slender Unicorn sighed as she finished the letter, and sent it away with a quick blaze, watching as the sparkling ashes flew into the west.
“Hey!” The mare was startled from her pondering once a burly Earthen shouted at her from the other side of the street. She glanced over her shoulder, wearing an expression of dismissive inconvenience. The large red stallion walked towards her, admirably attempting to hide the worry in his voice as he spoke again, his demands firm as he stamped a hoof. “What were you doing in there?”
The stallion stopped a respectable distance from her, in spite of his combative tone. In reply, the mare offered him a relaxed smile, casually adjusting her spectacles with a hoof and pulling out a platinum pendant in her aura, the sight of which caused the stallion’s eyes to pop open. He bowed low to the ground, and altered his tone to bear more respect when he spoke again.
“I’m sorry for the scare, your highness.” He muttered as he stood up, briefly taken aback as the mare was suddenly face-to-face with him, almost towering over him. “But… uh, the mare that lives there is important to me. And the rest of the town, as well. I just wanted to be sure she wasn’t under any threat.” At this, the Unicorn glanced back at the home behind her, tilting her head to one side curiously.
“Why is her home so grand?” She asked, an unexpectedly blunt tone to her voice. “Is she the Mayor? Or an advisor?”
“She’s a Belle, Ma’am.” The stallion answered, realizing just who he must be talking to. “Aside from the Apple Family, she’s the most respected mare for miles. She’s even a Dragon slayer! Why, just this week she came back with an egg, placed it on her mantle.”
“So I’ve seen,” the mare remarked simply, turning her attention back to the other. “Tell me, what is your name?”
“Macintosh, Ma’am.” The stallion stated, nodding his head. “Firstborn of the Matriarch’s son, though I doubt that’s as impressive as a scribe for the Queen herself, Miss…?”
“Sparkle,” the Unicorn stated, extending a hoof. “Lady Twilight Sparkle of Canterlot, Assistant to the Queen of the Sun.” The stallion took her hoof to shake it, only to collapse in the dirt of the street with a flash of Twilight’s horn. “And you will remember me not, until next you hear my name.”
With that, she vanished in a flash of pink, leaving the stallion in the street.
“Now then,” Rarity asserted, setting the hatchling firmly on a cushion in front of her. She placed a small dish of meat in front of it, assorted by animal to see which it would prefer. She levitated a small, blank tome and a rather large cup of steaming tea. “We have to find a name for you, little one. I can’t exactly call you ‘Dragon’, can I? That’s no name for my--” she paused, and closed her eyes with an irritated sigh. “For a critter to have, now is it? Let’s see what you eat first, hmm?”
She watched the creature carefully, adjusting a small pair of spectacles on her muzzle. It eyed the large plate in front of him hungrily, as well as the dish of foal formula Rarity had found that same morning. If she was going to take care of him, she needed to know what he ate. Did Dragons prefer lamb, beef, or bear? Silently, she hoped it was the bear, ‘Beef’ was not a name she could stomach even thinking about. And Lamb was more of a nickname anyways, a petty nickname like a mother would give her child. Nothing to assign to a Drake.
She was also slightly put off that she had to talk herself into putting both cooked and uncooked meat on her anniversary dishware, it being the only unscathed set she had at the moment. It would take a fair bit of scrubbing to remove the bloodstains, especially from the embedded jewels, but she could live with a couple ruined plates if need be. It’s not like a foal his age would try to bite anything that shone like metal, not until he grew his first set of teeth.
She was interrupted from her thoughts by a scraping crunch, and her eyes went wide when she realized she had been absently watching him try to rip one of the rubies from its golden setting without comprehending that he wasn’t eating any of the meat. She stared agape as he happily crunched on his little treat, a big smile on his face as his claws were proudly set on either side of the hole ripped in the tray.
Rarity took a long time to recover from the initial shock of the event, her eyes closing slowly as she took another deep breath. Gradually, she started to giggle, and cocked her head with a click of her tongue as she drew her quill to the first page of the booklet.
“So, you have teeth mere hours after hatching,” she laughed, glancing out of the corner of her eye as the Drake rolled onto his back, clutching what was left of the stone. “I am quite relieved that we discovered that before I tried breastfeeding.”
Rarity hobbled out of her front door for the first time in what felt like months, limping slightly from an ache in her ergot. The sunlight burned into her squinting vision, making her raise a foreleg to protect her eyes. The outside was only slightly more noisy than a library, with only the odd merchant roaming the streets. Rarity was almost thankful for the lack of attention when a voice startled her from the side.
“Whoa! You haven’t been out for a while, have you?” It called. A familiar, thin leg draped over Rarity’s shoulders as she placed a hoof over her heart, taking a moment to breathe.
“I suppose it has been a long week indoors for me,” Rarity conceded, “hasn’t it, Pinks?”
“Mhmm!” Pinks nodded enthusiastically, placing her hoof on top of her own head before hovering it above Rarity’s horn. “Golly, either you’re slouching or I’ve grown a couple inches!”
“Both, I imagine.” Rarity giggled, batting the younger mare’s leg away and stretching her back. “I haven’t been taking excellent care of myself lately, preoccupied with…work.” Her voice faded as glanced around the streets again, “... where has everypony gone?”
“What, she didn’t tell you?” Pinks tilted her head, causing her mane to bounce to one side. Rarity gave a confused glance back, wondering what her old friend was on about. Pinks’ gaze shifted, poor thing was clearly uncomfortable. “Applejack’s throwing a celebration for her daughter, Rares, I thought you of all mares would’ve noticed.”
“Her… what?” Rarity blinked, her perplexion growing even further. “Applejack doesn’t have a daughter, Pinks! She’s not even courting, let alone-... oh.” Rarity stopped herself once Pinks took a couple steps back, laughing nervously.
“Rarity…” Pinks swallowed “Applejack gave birth to her foal yesterday. It’s a filly.”
“Alright, now, say ‘one’!” Rarity chirped, holding up a small stone slate etched with a symbol. The dragon-child in front of her pursed his lips with a determined squint, deliberately flexing his lips into an ‘o’ pattern before weakly enunciating.
“Uonn?”
“Fantastic!” Rarity beamed, a familiar sense of pride rising up in her core. She clapped her hooves cheerfully, giggling at the Drake visibly swelling with confidence. She shuffled the tablet back in with the others, pausing when she heard the hatchling’s stomach gurgle. Almost on instinct, she spread the slates into a shield as a burst of green flame belched out of her student. He made an apologetic squeaking noise, and Rarity laughed.
“Look at that!” She boasted, puffing her chest out. “I’m learning, too!”
Rarity jerked forward, sitting up in her bed as her breath rushed out in panicked heaves. A chill ran across her body in spite of the thick blanket she had buried herself under, cold sweat soaking her sheets for the fifth night in a row. Her eyes scanned the room, everything was as it was when she left it. There was no fire, everything was fine.
She held a hoof to her chest, her heart racing so fast that it ached like an anvil had been tied to it. Deep breaths, in and out. No danger, Rarity. There was no danger. Her free hoof pawed around for the edge of the bed, but slipped off too soon for her to gain support. She fell to the floor with a cry of fear, the loud smack of her smashing against the floor echoing down the halls of her home.
Almost in an instant, a fierce stomping raced through the house, approaching with the speed of a hunter. Rarity’s eyes shot open, and by instinct her magic lit. Within a second, her longbow was before her, arrow nocked and aiming for the doorway as it burst open. In peered the massive head of a dragon, red as blood and trimmed with sapphire plates. It peered at her with hatred in its eyes, and opened its maw with a spark in its throat. Rarity loosed the arrow, and it stuck true into the beast’s uvula. Its mouth closed with a cry of fear, and its head receded like a massive python only to be replaced by a massive claw. Rarity knew she wouldn’t have time to fire another arrow, and the beast’s hide was too firm. She grabbed her knife in preparation to dismember the monster as soon as it ceased her, only for a finger to slap the blade into the wall. She opened her mouth to scream, only to feel the embrace of a foal.
Rarity closed her eyes as a searing pain ran through her head, opening them to see her bedroom. Intact as it had always been, save for a pattern of slashes in the wall beside her, and a shivering, crying drake-child clutched to her side. Her heart sank into her stomach, and her mind scrambled to make sense of whatever had just happened. She looked to the doorway, seeing an arrow lodged firmly into the opposite wall.
“Oh, Spike…” She choked, holding her charge closely and burying him in her embrace. “I’m so sorry… I’m so… so very sorry.”
She held him there for a long time, refusing to let him go again until he knew he was safe. Until they both knew that they were safe.
“Pick up those claws, Spike!” Rarity cheered enthusiastically, between paced breaths. She was jogging in place, working up a sweat as the small Drake tried his best to copy her movements, falling on his face for the fifth time that day as he awkwardly balanced on four legs. He made a chirping noise that was now starting to resemble speech.
“Tiewd,” he babbled, staying with his face buried in the floor. Rarity giggled, stopping her exercise and stretching down with a groan until her back popped. She scooped up the little guy with her hooves, spinning him around with a playful whoop until he joined her in the laughter. She carefully sat him on a large cushion, trotting off towards the kitchen.
“That’s enough for today, then!” She chirped, opening one of the cold cabinets and pulling out a hunk of meat. “I’ll fry up some bear for dinner while you get a nap in, sound good?”
She felt her heart glow as a happy squeak rang in her ears, and she quickly set to work. She paused for a second to sniff the air, before wrinkling her nose with a chuckle.
“... And after dinner, we need a bath.” Rarity winced as she heard the telltale thumps of a certain little dragon hitting the wood floor and racing away to hide. She smirked, and threw the meat on a skillet. “After dinner, you little skink! Get back here so I can teach you how to cook!”
“I’m home!” Rarity called as gently as she could, limping inside and rubbing her eyes sleepily. “Sorry it’s so late, but that Apple child was keeping poor Applejack from her work, someone needed to watch--” She was cut off from her apology, tripping over a warm body.
She prepared herself to shout at Opal for sleeping in the doorway again as soon as she turned, only to have her voice snag in her throat. Spike was stirring on the floor, a broom held firmly in his grasp. Rarity stared at the broom in confusion for a second before her eyes were drawn to a particularly large pile of dust and dirt on the floor. She blinked, and looked around her home. Her hoof raised to her chest as she beheld the house in a condition she hadn’t seen in years.
The floors were swept and mopped until they almost shone like polished concrete, the walls and shelves in her immediate vision meticulously dusted. Not a trace of mud by the door, aside from what she had just accidentally brought in. Everything was so carefully cleaned that she could only imagine what the rest of the house looked like.
“Oh, Spike…” She breathed, looking back to the sleeping Drake. A warm smile spread across her face as she gently lifted him with her magic. “What would I do without you?”
Rarity held the child in her forehooves, just as gently as she had when he first hatched. Her smile unrepressed and graceful as she hummed a soothing tune. Her magic held a small box filled with notes and sketches, setting it gently on the highest shelf . She had no idea what she was going to do to keep him hidden, but the hatchling’s peaceful expression as he slept filled her with content.
Slowly, Rarity lifted her voice as she cradled it, allowing old lyrics to flow freely from her lips for the first time in years.
Hey there, little one I see thee, I see thine smile Hey there, little one I see thy heart and I’m beguiled
I see thine eyes so curious to see the world Thine mind so wide with much to learn Thine ears so open to a thousand thoughts Thine youthful emotions yet to churn
I see thy little hooves waiting to walk In a path fore’er borne to thee I see thine jaws at work for to grow and spread Thine wisdom gained for all to see
Thou art mine, son, dearest child of mine. Thine blood is mine forevermore And if pony or plight tries to bring thee pain ‘Tis but Hell I will bring to their door
Hey there, little one I see thee, I see thine smile Hey there, little one I see thy heart, and I’m beguiled...
Rarity blinked, and behind her eyelids, she saw a little white foal barely old enough to eat solids cradled in her hooves. Their elegantly curly mane flowing around their head like a falling mist on a mountain peak. When she opened her eyes again, Rarity still saw her child.
Rarity glanced around nervously, hugging her cloak tightly against her in the chill winter wind. Timberwolves and Icetrotters howled in competitive songs, daring each other to fight under the fading daylight. She held a bundle tightly to her stomach, stepping towards the end of town. Her attention darted from building to building, each window aglow with warm fire and absent of peering eyes. Once she was close enough to the last houses, she raced along the path towards the woods, the swaddled hatchling mewling quietly at the cold.
She ducked her head against the frozen gusts, listening to the wind and thunder of the storm as she bolted for the shelter of the trees. The shape of the path was a constant memory, nearly unchanged for years. Every curve and twist was tucked into her mind, guiding her into the foliage without difficulty. She ducked through the first wall of shrubbery, gliding through branches and thistles with near silence. She emerged on the other side, only a little worse for wear as she carefully approached a lone lantern hanging from the side of a black tree. It flickered with an orange glow, lighting the entrance to a small thatched shelter.
Another rustling through the hedge caused her head to snap back, and she scanned the brush intently. Aside from nesting finches and the odd hare, no creature disrubed the branches. She let out a sigh of relief, letting her muscles relax.
“An interesting place to set up such a primitive arrangement, don’t you think?” Rarity’s blood ran cold as the voice spoke out from behind her. She turned her attention to the shelter, and was shocked to see a tall, orchid mare casually flipping through a journal. The mare looked past her spectacles at Rarity, a strange light in her eyes as she stepped out of the hovel. “No need to look so nervous, Rarity! I’ve heard a lot about you around town, the Lady who shot the town-killer!” The tone of the mare’s voice was high and jovial, but Rarity felt her heart beating out of her chest.
“I’ve heard of y-you, as well.” She swallowed, hugging the small dragon tighter against her belly with her magic. “Word was around that there was an assistant to the Queen in town, and I-”
“And your first instinct was to take your little pet, and run.” Twilight chuckled to herself, closing her book with a loud snap. Their eyes linked across the small clearing, not a sound to be heard behind the whistling winds, Rarity’s heart stopping altogether as it sank into her stomach. She lowered her head, and dropped her flanks onto the ground. Her forehooves wrapped around the child, holding him protectively as she started to cry.
Twilight watched the display, her expression unshifting. A small, mischievous smile decorating her face like a devilish jewel. She stared at the weeping mare for a long time, waiting patiently until the tears were nearly done, and Rarity looked up to her in concerned confusion. The silence prevailed until a third, smaller, terrified voice spoke up.
Rarity rubbed her brow with a pained groan, opening her bleary eyes to the familiar sight of her bedroom ceiling. The gentle light of the winter sunrise gracefully spreading across the room like the great wings of a swan. As calm as the morning was, her heart started to race as a strong rush of alarm flooded her thoughts. She bolted upright, her nerves urging her to run from… something, but a massive pain in her head brought her panic to a halt. She felt afraid for herself and for her son, but she couldn’t figure out why. Her mind burned, pulsing as if part of it was being held back by a dam.
“Spike?” She called with a hoarse croak, stumbling to her knees as she fell out of her bed. Her summons were answered by the sound of small steps clambering up the stairs, a familiar voice sending waves of relief over her troubled mind.
“Yeah, mom?” Spike called back, stepping into the doorway and wiping his claws on a small pink apron. When he saw the state his mother was in, Spike dropped the cloth around his belly and waddled up to her, grabbing her hoof to help her up. “What happened? Another attack?”
“I don’t… ooowh” Rarity started, wincing with pain when she tried to stand up. She glanced at her right foreleg, a small cut bleeding gently along her white coat. Spike followed her eyes, and his face went pale when he saw the blood. He turned away, retching dryly as he covered his mouth. Rarity examined the wound closer, wondering how it got there. It was too clean to be from bumping against her furniture, and too large to be a papercut. She grimaced, turning to lift up her pillow.
Her dagger was gone. Another surge in her mind spearing her head like a thousand needles. She blenched at the sensation, struggling to stay upright as she teetered precariously on her own legs. Spike quickly propped her up, confusion and concern painting a portrait on his face.
“Mom, what’s going on?” Rarity barely heard Spike’s question, fragmented images of snow and foliage intruding in her mind. She idly opened her dresser drawer, her horn aglow as a small roll of bandages flew over to her.
“Mommy has to go out for a while, darling.” She stated firmly as she began to dress her leg, hoping her even tone made her sound less frightened than she was. “I just need to figure something out, you just finish cooking your breakfast and keep out of sight. I should be home in a few hours.”
“I…” Spike opened his mouth to inquire further, but a quick glance from his mother shut it again. He knew better than to interrupt her when her mind was set on something. He rolled his eyes, turning to head back down to the kitchen with a dismissive wave. “Okay, I’ll do some reading while you’re gone. Can I open the blinds this time?”
“No, and you know why.” Rarity trotted past him, giving him a stern glare as she approached the coat rack. “You may light a lantern if you need more light, but you must stay--”
“‘Stay away from windows, and remember your hiding spots’.” Spike droned in unison with her, giving her a disheartened look. “I know, mom. I just… I want to see the daylight a little more often. It feels nice.”
Rarity paused, one hoof in her cloak’s sleeve. She turned to the pouting drake, a small pang of guilt resonating in her heart. Had it really been that long since he went outside? She glanced to a window by the tome she kept her notes in, a small opening above the topmost platform on her bookshelf. She sighed, shaking her head with a mutter.
“Tell you what. After you’re done eating, if you can climb up there without knocking it over, you can open up those blinds to let the light in.” She offered, nodding towards the shelves as she resumed her dressing. “You can open up the window, too. Let some air in, as long as you stay out of sight.” Her smile widened as Spike visibly lit up, and she turned to leave the house.
She took a deep breath, quietly praying that nothing bad would happen while she was gone. Rarity forced herself to swallow her fear as she turned towards the Darkwood, and started off.
On the other side of the door, Spike glanced at the top shelf as he turned to go back into the kitchen, mentally noting safe places to step. His step gained a small skip as he tightened his apron, a grin planted on his lips. He couldn’t wait to feel the light of the sun again!
It wasn’t that he ever minded the winter air, or the dark seclusion of his shuttered home. On the contrary, the seclusion was comfortable for him. Whether that was because he had grown up in it or because he was a dragon was anypony’s guess. But something about bathing in the sunlight made him feel whole, like a small part of him was fulfilling a deeper wish.
His mind was focused entirely on his mother’s promise. He thought about how bright the sun would be as he started roasting a fair hunk of hydra meat he had gathered from the cupboard, he thought about the brisk wind entering through the window as he seasoned it with fairy-fern and rosewheat, he thought about the scent of the outside as the vapors of the steaming meal wafted past his nose. Cooking had become second nature to him, and it gave his hands something to do as his thoughts wandered. Eggs and seasonings coated the meat in a luscious layer of extra flavor, not a dribble or flake spilled or wasted.
Once all was prepared, Spike’s teeth tore into the cooked flesh like it was wet cardboard, temporarily distracting him from the daydreams. His clawed digits sank into the grub like forks with a passing thought, hopefully saving him dishes to wash. No use in getting the cutlery dirty if they weren’t needed, and his mother wasn’t home to scold him for it, No harm, no foul.
Even without cutlery, he found slicing the meat into more manageable chunks to be immensely satisfying. A small corner of his mind remembered being taught how to properly chew food instead of trying to rip off large chunks and swallow them whole. He grimaced at the thought of those instincts, imagining great beasts being torn to shreds as Dragons fed like sharks. A repulsive thought to a young, pony-raised mind.
As he ate, his mind continued to dwell on his kin. His mother never held any secrets from him about where he came from, and how little was known of creatures of his kind. His stomach sank as he remembered finding accounts of the Drake that plagued their home far before he was born, and the reason for the rings displayed so carefully in his old room.
Spike wrenched the thoughts from his mind, forcing his attention back to the window above the shelves. He wiped his claws on the apron, and discarded the garment into the sink for later washing. For now, it was time to rest in the sunlight.
Rarity’s breath caught in her throat as she eyed the bloodstained dagger embedded in the snowbank just between the Darkwood and the hedge, a puny trail of blood between it and a faded imprint of a pony’s body. Her body. As soon as the sight greeted her eyes, something clicked and unlocked inside her. Her head was flooded with pain as trapped memories burst into her conscious sight, flashing images and panic through what must have been her entire body. Every vein in her head swelled with fire, causing her to scream through grit teeth as she fell to her knees.
The sound of her voice reverberated as if she was in a cavern, and once the pain had subsided enough for her to look up through rheum-coated eyes to the graceful, imposing shape of an elder Unicorn. Rarity stared at Twilight, the towering figure of the slender pony casting a dark shadow over her. A lump formed in the smaller mare’s throat, streaks of wet tears matting the coat on her face.
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t panic this time,” Twilight commanded, her tone even as her horn sparked to life like a struck match. Rarity hugged her head, gritting her teeth as she felt the weight of a binding spell peel out of her skull. “If you were as good at killing ponies as you are hunting animals, I would’ve had to leave your body in the snow.”
Rarity’s nerves went rigid as she felt a blade slice across her foreleg, the resurfacing memories coursing through her nerves. Images pressing against her eyes of a small pair of portals vanishing and reappearing in calculated patterns away from the wound. The knife had flown through the magenta disks, increasing in velocity until it was a mere blur stretched between them. And with a quick redirect of her spell, Twilight had opened it directly in front of Rarity’s face. Before she had had time to think or even wince, the dagger had become suspended less than half an inch away from Rarity’s left eye, stopped without a hind of inertia or momentum. Within a second; the memories vanished from her sight, retreating into her thoughts and leaving her staring into the smug face of the Queen’s Scribe.
“I hope you’re at least willing to hear me out now?” Twilight’s smirk grew slightly, and she stepped closer with regal confidence. “A lesser servant of the Queen would have you filleted for what you tried, but I’m not here to harm you or your pet.”
“Son,” Rarity barked with a stomp, “he’s my son. Now that you’re done toying with my head, will you please explain why you’re here if it’s not to execute me?”
“Of course,” Twilight nodded, her self-assured smile falling into a more sincere expression as she turned her side towards Rarity, and pulled back a small flap in her trousers to expose her Mark. It was a large, white four-point star with pink stains surrounded by three smaller sparkles. “I am the Queen’s Horn, Commanding Sorceress and the Last Astrologer.” Rarity noted that the Scribe’s voice made no efforts to hide her pride in her titles as she let the flap fall and held her head high. “I am here on the behest of Queen Réalta’an Domhain, for the stars foretold that a cornerstone would be placed in this town that would build a stronger Equestria. I am here only to observe, and to offer you the comfort that the Horn of the Queen is in support of your endeavour.”
Rarity’s head would’ve spun with the influx of information, had she not been delicately inspecting Twilight’s wording for any threats to her or her son. Finding none, she rubbed a hoof against her forehead, and sat her flanks into the snow.
“So, I have your protection then?” Rarity ventured, casting a hopeful look towards Twilight. Twilight’s expression darkened, dashing Rarity’s hopes in an instant.
“No…” Twilight admitted, her calm tone close to faltering. “I can’t offer you anything more than the knowledge that no direct action from the throne will be taken against you, and that I am here as a friend and observer. But I cannot and will not protect you, or defend you. I must interfere as little as possible.”
Rarity nodded, taking very little comfort in her situation. But very little comfort, to her, was still comfort. And she was glad to have that.
Spike stretched silently, disturbed from his nap by the sound of hoofsteps approaching on the gravel road outside. He had remained just under the window, out of sight as his mother wished. The winter sun was a blessing to his scales, even if he was comfortable in the murky lamplight of the indoors. He prepared himself to climb down and greet his mother, but the scales on his back stood on end as the blurry interpretation of the sounds gained clarity.
Those hooves weren’t his mother’s, they were far too small and light. The crunch of the gravel was softer than it should have been, and a quiet humming reached his ears as well. A sort of shanty by the sound of it, the songs that Rarity described as the fuel for sailors and farmers. The voice that carried the tune was feminine, soft and melodical. Spike couldn’t help but admire the singer, even as her approach towards his home sent him into a panic. He was too far away from his hiding places, too far to reach them in time without making noise. He scrambled in place, his breathing shallow and desperate as his mind raced through every possible solution.
“Hey, Miss Rarity!” The front door swung open, and a farmer’s accent rang through the house as the intruder strode in. And, much to Spike’s dismay, the startled jolt he experienced in response to the rude incursion sent him sprawling onto the floor with a thud, stunning the little Drake. When his vision cleared, he found himself face-up on the floor; looking into the curious amber eyes of a small, yellow filly. Her red mane bobbed like leaves in the wind as she tilted her head, their snouts almost touching each other’s foreheads.
Spike felt his blood run cold. Is this how he was going to be discovered? His mother had done everything she could to keep him safe, and he exposes himself by tripping over his own feet. All he could do was stare into the eyes of the filly for what must have been hours, expecting her to kick his head in out of fear.
“Well, howdy there!”
Spike blinked, the chipper tone taking a minute to register. Was she not scared? Why wasn’t she screaming, or running away? She was just standing there, smiling down at him like she’d found a new puppy. As he continued to stare, he felt a hoof thudding lightly against his head.
“What,” the filly teased playfully, “can’t’cha talk? Ah thought y’looked a li’l smarter than an animal.”
“Ow, ow!” Spike winced, ducking out from under the filly and rubbing his head as he sat up. “Of course I can talk! I just… c-can you shut the door, please? I don’t want anypony else finding me.”
Much to his surprise, and building confusion, the filly quickly complied. She walked around the corner with a carefree strut, and shut the front door with a slam. Spike winced again at the noise, jumping again when the filly’s head popped out from behind the wall.
“Howzat, that good?” She beamed, grinning widely. Spike just nodded dumbly before his befuddlement was interrupted yet again by the rowdy child shouting at him.
“Is Miss Rarity home?” She asked, walking deeper into the house. “Momma sent me a-lookin’ for her t’ watch me while they’re settin’ up the Royalty’s room, somethin’ ‘bout makin’ sure Ah don’t go harassin’ the garter snakes again.” Spike shook his head, still cautious of the strange filly.
“No, mom’s not home yet.” Spike blurted without thinking, too far out of water to respond to anything outside of automatic phrases. The filly’s eyes went wide, and her open-mouthed smile seemed to open even more.
“Well, Ah’ll be damned!” She whooped, keeping her volume low. “Miss Rarity’s your momma? That’s swell! Ah wonder, can you play Pony Puck?”
Spike decided to resign himself to his fate, and just accept whatever this hyperactive foal wanted from him. Maybe she could keep a secret, in spite of her rambunctious nature. He shook his head wearily, and looked up at her.
“What’s Pony Puck?”
The scheming grin the filly wore was not encouraging,
“... at the very least, I can thank you for approaching me. Even if I don’t very much appreciate your methods.”
Rarity stepped in stride with Twilight along the gravel pathways, watching the studious mare while she was levitating several quills and parchments, writing a few lines of what looked to Rarity to be poetic verses about scales and arrows. Twilight nodded courteously, tilting the pages away from Rarity’s sight intentionally. Rarity raised a brow at the scholar, but ultimately decided against prying. They were in the middle of town, and discretion was a valuable tool.
“I do apologize for frightening you, empathy isn’t my strongest suit.” Twilight smiled lightheartedly as they approached Rarity’s abode. “But the part I believe you to be playing is invaluable, and the safety of the child will ultimately depend on you.”
Rarity was wary of the attention their conversation was bringing as she reached for her door, glancing worriedly to Twilight. There was a comforting gentleness in the Scribe’s eyes, and that reassured her. With a gentle push, she opened the door and stepped inside, only to find Spike sitting across from Applejack’s daughter.
Twilight hastily shut the door, clearly as surprised as Rarity to see the Matriarch’s daughter playing a simple game with a Dragon-child, though outwardly as calm as ever. Rarity, on the other hand, was quick to rush up to the filly and pick her up with her aura. She looked ready to scream in a panic before a gentle hoof from Twilight rested on her shoulder. Rarity looked into the eyes of the now frightened filly, taking a deep breath and setting her down.
“Apple Bloom,” she started, sitting down in front of the children. “You have to promise me to never, ever, ever tell anypony about Spike. Especially not your mother. Okay?”
“Yea, sure!” Apple Bloom chirped, grinning broadly. “Ya didn’t tell Ma about the cragadile, or the basalisk…” she slowly shrank her posture, sheepishly looking at a grinning Twilight. “... or the star spider… or the horntail… Ah can keep this feller a secret, no problem!” Rarity breathed a sigh of relief, and patted Apple Bloom’s back gently; bringing her into a hug.
“Thank you, Apple Bloom.” She sobbed, shuddering. Spike watched nervously, glancing between his mother and Twilight. Twilight offered him a small nod, lighting her horn with a wink before vanishing in a burst of pink.
Dinner at the Apple Family’s castle was a thriving event, more than ever with the Horn of the Queen dining in their hall with them. Almost the entire town had arrived, every pony hoping for a chance to mingle with the Sorceress. Much to their disappointment, and Rarity’s growing amusement, Twilight blatantly ignored everyone but Applejack, Apple Bloom, and herself.
Rarity sat comfortably near the head of the great table, placed beside Apple Bloom and across from Twilight. At the head of the table, Applejack sat in an ornate chair, carved and woven with firm intricacy from oak and cherry. It looked more like a throne than a dining room table, and elevated the farmer’s head higher than Twilight’s by a good measure. Rarity was inwardly appalled that Applejack would use such a position in the presence of a powerful figure, let alone the Queen’s Horn. But, she knew all too well that bringing up any discussion of etiquette to the Matriarch wouldn’t end well for anypony.
“A welcome meal after such a pilgrimage, Lady Applejack.” Twilight asserted coldly, impaling a number of leaves and cubes of diced meat with a fork. She soaked it with a white broth that scalded the wooden bowl it was held in, and gently bit in; chewing carefully before swallowing so she could speak again. “I extend my compliments to your servants, they have done excellent work on this cuisine.”
“Servants?” Applejack chortled giddily, slapping her hoof on the table. “Yer Majesty, there ain’t no way Ah’d let those bastards anywhere near the kitchen when there’s cookin’ to be done. Ah don’t trust ‘em any farther than ‘Bloom can buck ‘em with a fork, let alone a skillet. Everything on yer palette is genuine Apple cooking!” The gratification in Applejack’s voice as she chided her servants set a thorn in Rarity’s throat, but the seamstress bit her tongue as Twilight quirked her brow at the statement.
“Oh?” She prompted with a flourish of her utensils, dicing a large section of meat thoroughly. “Pray tell what you keep the servants around for, if not for cooking and waiting?”
“Tradition, honestly.” Applejack shrugged, leaning back in her seat lazily. “The Apple family’s owned their families for… Ah reckon ‘round ten generations. Servin’ us is all they know, and Ah’m the last pony to break tradition. ‘Sides, they’re handy for keepin the grounds tidy. Once their work is done, they get their pay and go off.”
Twilight opened her mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by the clatter of falling wood. All eyes moved to the young Apple Bloom as she clambered back into her seat, sweating what looked like beads of glass as an equally nervous shuffling sounded from under the table. Applejack huffed, clopping her hooves together. Within moments, Macintosh had gotten up from his seat and ducked his head under the table, pulling away with a small pegasus filly in his teeth. Her diminutive wings buzzed like a fly’s as she held several alphabetic blocks in her forehooves, her mulberry mane drooping over her meek frown.
“What have I told ya ‘bout playin’ with Gopher?” Applejack glared at her daughter, a wave of her hoof dismissing Macintosh to carry the petite filly away. “That ain’t what she’s for, and Ah’ve told you that before!”
“But Ma, Gopher’s fun!” A round of giggles and uncomfortable coughs went around the table as Apple Bloom pouted, “besides, we ain’t hurtin’ anypony!”
“That ain’t the point, sugarcube.” Applejack chided, rubbing a tired hoof against her forehead. “Y’ don’t play with the servants, you just let ‘em work. Let ‘em live their own lives.” Apple Bloom huffed, and sank her head down as she played with her food.
“Glad Ah made a new friend at Miss Rarity’s house today,” she muttered to herself quietly. Rarity’s blood ran cold, and she felt her muscles cramp as if she’d been struck by a cool wind. Twilight’s ears perked up, but her expression remained cold and even. Applejack was all too quick to sense the tension, and sat up to lean into the table.
“Y’ made a new friend at Rarity’s, huh?” Applejack inquired, the light tone barely hiding the interrogation that was surely incoming. “Who would that be? Ah haven’t heard of anyone goin’ t’ Rarity’s place for years.”
Apple Bloom’s face flushed red as she realized her misstep, and she glanced between a distraught Rarity and her mother with apprehension and shame. Caught between two motherly mares, her eyes became moist as fright and uncertainty filled her. Applejack looked ready to pounce before the steady voice of Twilight cut through the tension.
“Begging your Lady’s pardon, but I am the one she’s referring to.” Twilight stated flatly, barely looking up from another sample skewered on her fork. “Your daughter was kind enough to keep me company after you sent her there, and was teaching me to play one of your local games while we both waited for the esteemed Dragon Slayer to return home. Don’t be too harsh on her, I very much appreciated the companionship.” Rarity breathed a sigh of relief as Applejack eyed Twilight over, as if searching the Sorceress’ thoughts.
“No disrespect meant, your highness,” Applejack expressed her doubt with no censor, “but Ah heard you walked Rarity home from the Darkwood earlier. Nothin’ goes on in this town without my ears pickin’ it up at some point.”
“No disrespect taken, Lady Applejack,” Twilight countered without missing a second, lighting her horn. “But, you are uneducated to the tiers of magic I am capable of. I don’t expect you to understand without witnessing for yourself, however. So allow me to demonstrate.” At that, Twilight lit her horn. Slowly, an identical, slightly ethereal duplicate of Twilight split off from her body, picking up a glass in its own levitation and downing the wine within. Both Twilights spoke in tandem as they smiled at Applejack. “Merely a simple casting of Similo Duplexis, and a copy of me can run an errand while I stay behind.”
“Uh-huh…” Applejack cast a glance to Apple Bloom, who nodded sheepishly. Satisfied with the answer and the display, she sat back into her throne with a tired stretch. “Alrighty then, that’ll feed me a helpin’ or two of humility. Ah do beg your pardon, Ah’m a mite protective of my family.”
‘Possessive is the more appropriate term,’ Rarity thought, grimacing at her food as she resumed her meal.
As the mingling and politics dragged on, Rarity eventually excused herself from the celebration. She felt like a hermit retreating into his cave, but she needed to return home to Spike and take him outside before everypony returned. As she approached the towering portcullis of the Apple estate, the form of Twilight’s Identical stepped into her path, ever so gently glowing with a pink light.
“Leaving so soon?” The projection asked, tilting her head. Rarity smiled at the duplicate, nodding gently and keeping her voice low.
“The poor thing hasn’t been outside in ages,” she chuckled ruefully, “and this is a good opportunity to let him run around without being seen.”
The image of Twilight nodded, and stepped aside. Rarity nodded in kind, and started back down the path before pausing again. After a few seconds, she turned back to Twilight’s Identical, which was still watching her with attentive eyes. Rarity’s smile turned slightly more sincere, and she spoke up again.
“And thank you for covering for Apple Bloom and I, dear.” She said with unfeigned gratitude. “That’s quite a handy spell, I must say.”
“And a taxing one,” Twilight’s Identical chuckled as she turned to step back into the courtyard, “I’ve barely held it for an hour, and I won’t be able to cast any more magic until the morning.”
“You… what?” Rarity blinked, her smile falling into a puzzled frown.
