> Bolted Cloth
>  by Waxworks
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As a column writer for Equestrian Fashion, I had learned about many different ponies.Many of them were eccentric.You learn to accept those strange quirks as you get deeper into the fashion scene, and many of them were secretive.They liked to keep their secrets close and their talents eclectic, never sticking with one thing for very long or allowing themselves to stagnate.Stagnation was a death sentence to a creative artist, and fashion was no different.

My newest assignment, however, was something else entirely.It was a pony I had heard of: Miss Rarity from Ponyville.She’d been coming to the fore in fashion lately and I was the lucky pony who won the assignment to learn more about her.I performed my research, as was expected, and found out that she was a young mare.She’d been born to her parents, Hondo Flanks and Cookie Crumbles, and was the first daughter of two.She’d lived in Ponyville all her life, and created her business, the Carousel Boutique, all on her own and made it into a success, with stores opening in Canterlot and Manehatten both.By all accounts, her success made sense.Her fashion was refreshing, interesting, and in the case of her Princess Dress, wildly successful, even when churned out one after the other.Even so, with all this history and a seemingly normal life behind her, I was conflicted in my assessment of the mare when face-to-face with her.

Rarity was… striking. She was skinny, like in all the photos I’d seen of her.Her face looked almost gaunt, but her fur shimmered as moonlight on snow.It was breathtaking, and yet, at the same time, unnatural.Her eyes sparkled, but the way a gemstone sparkles.Hard and unyielding, yet inviting.Prepared to welcome you, but simultaneously sharp and repellent.

In our first meeting, it was this alien mare that met me. All hard angles and short answers.She had done this before so many times and blurted out canned responses to every question.They were good, and her voice was animated, but none of that welcoming candor reached her face.Her eyes drove into me, piercing my heart and making me shiver as she told me how much she thanked her family for their support and care, and how much she loved her friends for helping her generously with their time.My journalistic sense told me that this mare, this gaunt yet graceful mare who had taken the fashion world by storm, had a secret.

I used every resource at my disposal to try to reveal it.If it were a dark secret then it could tear apart her career and make her into a pariah on the fashion scene.Something simple like sex wouldn’t do that, no.Murders and robberies danced through my head, but Rarity didn’t seem the type to engage in such simple, sordid displays.Her talent was evident, and my hunt through her employee roster proved that well enough.Sassy Saddles was paid well for her time and was a managerial prodigy all on her own.Coco Pommel was an up and coming creative talent as well, and Rarity wasn’t using any of her ideas, they were both individuals all on their own whose work would be unique by themselves.No, Rarity wasn’t a terrible boss, and I doubted she murdered ponies.There was something else.

Looking at her family, I tried to start there, because although I had heard of Rarity and her history, her family was a bit mysterious.Her sister, Sweetie Belle, came much later than Rarity, and so I was curious if Rarity had a fling and gave birth, leaving her daughter to be raised by her parents.This proved incorrect, as far as I could discover.

I spoke to her parents, asking for an interview with the parents of the newest fashion icon, and dropped my questions in there. “Mr. Flanks, Mrs. Crumbles, what can you tell me about your daughter when she was younger?”

“Rarity?Well, I don’t want to sound overly proud, but Rarity was always a little fashion icon. Her work in school for that play?With the gemstones?Perfect stuff,” said Hondo Flanks.

I knew the story.Everypony did.It was the one Rarity told whenever somepony asked her when she knew she wanted to be a designer.Or when she was asked about her cutie mark.“Yes, she’s happy to tell that story.But such a beautiful filly surely had the eyes of some colts, right?Any… heartbreak when she was younger?”

Hondo waggled his eyebrows at me.“I see what you’re after.Nice try, but I can tell you she didn’t.She was always too focused on work.”

“I see, well can you tell me about you two, then?The parents of such an enterprising filly who left home so soon must have felt rather lonely.Is that why you had Sweetie Belle, because you felt alone without Rarity at home to take care of?”

Cookie Crumbles answered this question.“Oh, no. That was just because of a little fun we had while on vacation!” She winked at me.“The cruise was nice, but it was awfully boring. We were halfway down the east coast when we grew tired of shuffleboard and decided to make our own entertainment!” She blushed and swatted her husband on his foreleg.

“I see.Well, thank you both for your time.I think I’ve heard enough to make a story about,” I said.

“Of course.We’d be happy to talk anytime.What was your name, again?” asked Hondo.

“Deadline,” I said.

“Well, Mr. Deadline, pleased to meet you, and good luck with your writing.”

Knowing that Rarity’s parents were a dead end, I had to try and be a little more drastic.I approached her friends and asked questions of them, but they told me the same stories as her parents.The odd thing was, her friends told me the exact same stories as her family.Exactly the same.There were no discrepancies, no changes, no oddities.They knew when Rarity wanted to become a designer, they told the story of when Rarity got her cutie mark as if they had pulled it straight from one of the many magazines that had published it.Mine included.Even her little sister knew the story.Her little sister talked about times they had together in more recent years, but nothing spectacularly knew.Her past was blank, save for a few recorded excerpts everypony could recite verbatim.

I eventually took my hunt from ponies to records.I stopped asking around Ponyville and started searching documents in Town Hall.Or I tried, anyway.Mayor Mare was not as welcoming as I had hoped.It seemed she had something against journalists because although she seemed welcoming and helpful, after a full day’s work of hunting through records and paperwork I was no closer to finding Rarity’s birth certificate.She apologized profusely, hemming and hawing “where those documents could be?” we never found anything.When Town Hall shut down for the day I was ejected with all haste and politeness and an unceremonious “Have a good day.”

To say I was confused and upset would be an understatement.I had something within reach that I knew was going to be one of the biggest stories of the decade!The untold history of fashion’s newest name was at my hooftips, but I needed to figure out what I was missing! I had to take a new angle, but I couldn’t figure out what else to do.

I woke up the next morning to find myself strapped to a cot.The room I was in was dark, and I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear the sound of metal creaking and water dripping.There was a thin crack of light over in the distance I was sure was a door, but I didn’t remember how I got here or why I was here to begin with.I tried to think back to what I was doing the night before or who might have attacked me, but nothing on me hurt.I felt in perfect condition, I was just strapped to a bed in a dark cellar.

I heard humming coming from the direction of the sliver of light, and hoofsteps approached.There was the click of a lock and the door opened, letting light flood inside.It blinded me, leaving only a silhouette standing in the doorway of a pony that was slim, with a long mane, and was a unicorn.

Then a familiar voice filled the room.

“Are you awake, darling?I feel it’s time we had a little talk, you and I,”

It was Rarity!Horrible thoughts filled my head of her using the skin of dead ponies in her art, carving their flesh from their bones and carefully curing it to be crafted into a lovely lampshade or a cute coat.I struggled against my bonds, trying to free myself as she approached.I tried to flap my wings, but they were trapped underneath me, leaving me helpless as she sauntered up to the bed.

“Really, dear, you must calm yourself.” She set a tray filled with food next to the bed on a small desk, and put a hoof against my forehead.“You seem fine.I apologize for the circumstances, but Pinkie Pie gets a little carried away sometimes.You blacked out and they brought you here so I could ‘take care of you’ myself.We just need to have a little talk.”

Rarity released my bonds and my wings sprung out, battering the tray and pushing it off the desk.Rarity caught it in her magic with a small “Oop!” and carefully arranged it back on the desk.She smiled at me.

“You should eat something.I don’t know what Pinkie put in your food, but I don’t imagine it’s very healthy.They told me you were asking questions, so, here we are.Ask your questions,” she said with a delicate smile.

I looked at her, then at the food.It was a fruit salad with honey drizzled on top of it.It was probably pretty, before I bumped it, and the glass of orange juice was now only half-full, the rest spilled on the floor. I looked back at Rarity.“Where am I?”

“You’re in the basement of the Carousel Boutique, Mr. Deadline.”She waved a hoof and clicked on the lights.There were bolts of cloth neatly arranged against the walls.There were ponnequins lined up in one corner, and there was all manner of fashion accessories, sewing equipment, and gemstones piled up all over.

“And your friend, Pinkie.She drugged me and brought me here?”

“She gets out of control quite easily.Excitable, but well-intentioned.”

“Well, you know what they say about the road to Tartarus,” I said with a grim look.

“Of course, which is why I want to make it up to you.You were tossing in your sleep, so I wanted to be sure you didn’t hurt yourself.The cot is quite small.I had to keep you down here so guests wouldn’t see you in my bed and start to talk,” she said as she leaned in with a grin.

My eyes flitted about the room, looking for something sinister.Something hidden among the piles of unused things that might hint at her real purpose in having me here.“Why do this?”

“Do what?”

“Drug me, bring me into a basement and strap me to a table?”

Her cold eyes twinkled in the low light. “Because you’ve been getting a little too interested in my affairs all around Ponyville, and I need to know why.”

“You’ve been following me?”

Rarity laughed. It was like the sound of shattering glass. “I’m far too busy to do something like that. No, the ponies all about town have noticed. Talking to Hondo and Cookie, discussing my sister, asking about records at Town Hall. You’re a reporter, that much is obvious, but you’ve left tracks like an ursa major.” She clucked her tongue at me.

“So you’re scared I’ll find something.”

“I want to know what you think you’re going to find, Mr. Deadline.”

I shrugged. “Affairs. Sordid family history. Illegitimate children. Disgusting habits.”

She made a face and waved a hoof. “You’re a tabloid reporter?” She looked disappointed.

“What? No! I’m part of Equestrian Fashion!”

“Barely any better,” she said. She turned away and scratched her chin with a hoof. From my vantage point the light made her appear much skinnier than I had originally thought. The robe she was wearing draped over her frame and clung in odd places.

“Any piece of information can be used to gather reasons for other things. Maybe your family’s history is the reason you make the kinds of clothes you do. Maybe the memory of an old flame inspired a line of colors. Ponies love to talk about that kind of thing. They like to hear what’s going on in their favorite pony’s life,” I countered.

“Pah! They’ll never know, and I won’t share it with them. But, perhaps we can share a few tidbits, Mr. Deadline.”

“I think I’ve gotten enough from you so far.” I motioned to the room and the straps on the bed.

She looked at me, her cheekbones stark and eyes icy. I thought I had her with the way she’d treated me. Thought I could barter for more information since I’d caught her and her friends in strange activities. She cackled.

“Oh! Hohohoho! You think anypony will believe this?” She raised her hooves, her skinny legs separating to encompass the room. “Ponyville’s Premiere fashionista kidnapped me and held me in a basement!” she intoned. “I was held captive by up-and-coming fashion icon, Rarity!”

I huffed and cross my hooves. “Well, when you say it like that…”

“Oh, I do apologize,” she giggled, wiping a tear from her eye. “That was the most delightful laugh I’ve had in a while. Oh, my. Maybe I should write tabloid headlines.”

“Very funny, yeah. Can I leave?”

She motioned to the open door. “If you like.”

I hopped off the cot and picked up my notes from the desk nearby. I hadn’t touched the fruit salad. My appetite was ruined by the whole situation, and her mockery hadn’t made me feel any better.

She called out to me as I walked away. “If you would like, as an apology, I can share my secrets.”

I turned to her with an incredulous look on my face.

“Nopony will ever believe you. You can have them, as an apology, but nopony will ever take anything you say about it seriously. That is my only warning, darling.”

I narrowed my eyes, staring at her. She looked serious. No hint of mockery on her gaunt face. I looked her up and down, checking for any of the signs of lying. I could find none. She was sitting prim and proper, her mane, not fully styled yet, was draping across the side of her face, and her tail was tied up in curlers. Her robe covered most of the rest of her, as was her habit, but she wasn’t fidgeting, wasn’t too still, either. For all intents and purposes she looked like she was telling the truth.

“You say that, but I’ve got a way with words,” I replied.

“I assure you Mr. Deadline. Nopony will -ever- believe you. Better stallions than you have tried.”

That hurt a little. “Ponies have tried before?”

“Here and there, somepony gets it into their head to do a report on me. They come, and they leave with more information than they know what to do with. Nopony believes them.”

“Who?” She laughed again, that mess of broken glass issuing from her mouth. It was jarring to hear such horrible laughter come from such a pretty face.

“You wouldn’t know of them, darling. Many of them are no longer household names.”

“I know everypony in the business.”

“I’m sure you do,” she said, condescending. “They thought so, too.”

I sat at the foot of the stairs in thought, staring at the floor. I couldn’t pass up such a fantastic opportunity to learn more about the biggest name in fashion in years. I couldn’t just leave, could I? I needed that information. Needed it like an addict needed their next fix. To know that there was possibly the biggest story on fashion here in front of me, could I really walk away from that?

A plate of food floated in front of my face, covered in various fruits, drizzled with honey. “You should eat something, Mr. Deadline. There is not rush. Anytime you want to come back, you’re welcome. Your types always do. You’d keep trying and hurt yourself, or I can give it to you and break you all at once. I’ve found the latter is usually kinder.”

“You think I’ll break from a little information?”

She just smiled sadly.

I took the plate in my wings and ate some of the fruit. She climbed the stairs and I followed her up into the boutique proper. The store had been arranged to sell, and was just waiting for her to be presentable and open up. I was the only reason it hadn’t.

“Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back down in a moment,” said Rarity.

I nodded and chewed on some apple slices while she disappeared upstairs. I looked around the boutique, left alone to ponder what significance the layout of the place had to Rarity. Or if it meant anything at all. I’d written a piece on the design and structure of an artist’s workplace once. It discussed how you could identify a pony based on where they kept tools in relation to one another. A fashionista like Rarity, for example, who kept her scissors closer to her sewing machine than her fabric, was confident she would select the right amount of fabric the first time. It was all based on nothing more substantial than my own observations and assumptions, but it was one of my more popular pieces. Ponies judged artists everywhere on that, and it made me proud.

When Rarity came back downstairs I had finished the fruit and placed the plate in the nearby kitchen. She was stunning, of course. She wore a long and loose robe that did not cover her forehooves, leaving them free to work, but had bunched fabric at her other joints and hips. The fabric covered her gaunt look, I noticed. It wasn’t unusual for a fashionista to be skinny. Many of them had been models of one type or another or were simply eccentric. Rarity’s slim look seemed… excessive. I wondered if she was anorexic.

“So, Mr. Deadline. Are you resolved to stay, or do you need more time to think?” She stood next to me, waiting.

“You seem to think whatever information you have is going to change my life forever. I’m a little insulted, but also intrigued. On the other hoof, you claim nopony will believe me even if I tell them, so I’m questioning the worth of this tale you want to tell,” I said.

She laughed again. I flinched, wondering if I would ever get used to it.

“Mr. Deadline, I have told this tale many times. I have no desire to tell it again for my own benefit, I’m simply thinking of you, darling. You and your journalistic curiosity.”

“You still haven’t told me any of the names or publications the stories were in.”

She sighed. “The only pony that ever published it was part of a long defunct tabloid. You won’t find any copies, and the pony himself is dead.”

“Because he published the story?” I gave her a questioning look.

“No, Mr. Deadline,” she answered, and said nothing more than that.

“Well, that’s just even more cryptic.”

“It’s meant to be. I will not give you the story until you agree you wish to hear it, knowing full-well the consequences of your actions.”

“What, like death?”

“It’s possible.”

“Murder?”

“No.”

“This is a pretty good story already.”

“No, it isn’t. Nopony would believe this without proof, and I have an alibi for anything you cook up.”

“I’ve recorded our entire conversation.”

She gave me a withering look of disappointment. “Please, Mr. Deadline. Give me more credit than that. You write with pencil and paper alone. Most of your columns in the magazine are entirely fabricated with just enough truth to not get you in trouble. I’ve done my research, just as you’ve done yours.”

She had me there. I was a liar, but I was a damn good one. I could twist anything I heard and make it believable. I could even twist this encounter into something my fans at the magazine would eat up, but she seemed insistent that nopony would believe me. Even claimed she had an alibi. That was a bold claim, too. She didn’t even specify how, but with her friends watching me around town, that meant they would back her up. She knew she was confident her own influence would swamp my own no matter what I threw at her.

“I think you should take a day and wander about town some more, Mr. Deadline. I do have work to attend to. Think about my offer, understand the implications and consequences, and decide if you really want to know,” Rarity said as she lifted an unfinished dress off a ponnequin.

“You’re just making this more enticing, you know, Rarity.”

“You were already enticed, Mr. Deadline. Do not try to pin this on me.”

“Fair point. When should I come back?”

“Tonight, after dark. Talk to the others, find out what you can, and come fully aware that if you publish this story, it will never be believed.”

I didn’t say anything. I took my hat from where it hung on a hook next to the door and stepped outside. The chime rang, then was muffled as the door shut behind me.

I looked out at Ponyville and wondered where I could go to get more information. If Town Hall was out, the local library would be a good choice. It was the Castle of Friendship now as well, which was something I figured I should visit at least once.

I approached the gaudy fixture and glared up at it. It was painfully obvious no one with any sense of fashion had created this thing. The crystals that made it up had attempted to create some facsimile of a tree, but the landscape it was set in did not flatter it at all. It was a shiny rock, in the middle of a pastoral landscape. The whole thing stuck out like a fat lip.

I knocked. I could hear the hollow echo of it ring down the hall inside until I heard steps approaching. The door opened, and a small dragon appeared in the doorway.

“Welcome to the Castle of Friendship!” he said. “How can I help you?”

“Uh, hi. This is still Ponyville Library, right?”

“Yep! Follow me!” He stepped aside and motioned me through the doors, then shut them behind me and jogged off down the halls. I followed him.

“So this is where the Princess of Friendship lives, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s a bit big, and we’re still working to replace all the books we lost, but it’s a good place. What kind of books are you looking for, by the way?”

“I’m looking for books on Ponyville history. Recent history.”

“Like, records of what’s been happening in town?”

“Census information, birth records. Stuff like that.”

“Oh, that’s all kept at the Town Hall.”

“You don’t have anything here about Ponyville’s history?”

He pushed open a set of doors that was labeled ‘Library’ and stepped inside. “Most of it was destroyed by Tirek, but I’ll see what I can find. If we have it, it would be over here.” He jogged over to a section of books carefully organized in one corner.

I followed him and perused the book spines set up so neatly in one corner. They were organized alphabetically by subject, with sections labeled by theme, genre, and subject. This section was about history, with a smaller section on Ponyville itself within it. I started pulling them out one by one to look them over. I was looking for census information, but as I looked them over it became clear that the little dragon was right. Most of the recent information was kept at the Town Hall.

“Damn. Nothing here looks useful to me.”

“Sorry,” said the dragon from his seat on an empty shelf nearby. “Anything we might have had was destroyed by Tirek.”

“I heard about that. Princess Twilight and her friends beat him, right?”

“Oh, well. True and not-true. I don’t mean to brag, but most it was accomplished by my sweet Ra-“

“Spike!” A voice yelled from out in the hall.

“Oops! I probably forgot to do something. You can find your own way out.” The dragon, who’s name was apparently Spike, hopped off the bookshelf and hurried out the door.

I could hear their voices chattering outside the library door, but I couldn’t make out anything beyond a few words. It sounded like chores that the dragon was required to do, and questions about where this or that was being kept at the current time. Eventually there was the sound of claws clicking on the stone as the dragon hurried off, and the library door burst open to reveal the Princess of Friendship herself! Unsure what to do, I bowed, but magic pulled my chin back up.

“Please don’t. We’re not in public, and I don’t have to make a show of it. You can even report that to somepony, if you like,” she said with a small smile. “I’m Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship. And you are Deadline, columnist for Equestrian Fashion, among other publications. I understand you’re here in Ponyville to find out more about Rarity, is that right?”

She was spot on. I’d heard she had been Princess Celestia’s protégé, and she certainly had the knowledge skills down pat.

“That’s correct, Princess. Rarity is the hottest new thing in the fashion limelight, and ponies everywhere are desperate to hear more about her. I came to deliver that.”

“I hear Pinkie Pie got overzealous. I imagine you’ve talked with Rarity already?”

I nodded. They kept each other well-informed, it seemed. I wouldn’t be able to hide anything, so I opted to tell her the truth. “I did. She told me she’d tell me everything I wanted to know, but that nopony would ever believe me.”

“They won’t. She’s right. I won’t try and tell you otherwise. You’ll hear it, but you’ll have to be ready to hold on to that secret for the rest of your life.”

“Why, if I may ask?”

“I’ll answer your question with a story, if that’s alright. One about Ponyville, and its history, since that’s what you came here to learn about. I’ll leave things out so that you have something to hunt for later. It’s not my place to tell you everything, after all. Do you have time to listen?”

“Of course, Princess.”

She sat down on a cushion next to a table and motioned for me to sit. I did, and she began speaking.

“Ponyville is a newer town. It’s been around for a while, and is close to Canterlot. It’s near the Everfree Forest, which seems dangerous, but it hasn’t ever fallen prey to the strange creatures that dwell there. The Apple Family home and orchard is right next to it, and Fluttershy’s cottage as well. It’s a border that nopony seems to be in charge of, but has never encroached on the town save for a few magical instances.

“Well, when the town began, it was started by Applejack’s grandmother, Granny Smith. She and her family founded the town and began growing apple trees, and every year the zap apple harvest is one of the biggest and greatest events the town has. But, it seems strange.” She looked at me. “How much do you know about the Everfree Forest, Mr. Deadline?”

“Only that it is untamable.”

She nodded. “Untamable, uncontrollable, and dangerous. Timberwolves, cragadiles, parasprites, and Celestia knows what else. All dangerous, and all issuing from the Everfree Forest. As newcomers to the land, there is no way they would know anything about the Everfree Forest, so why would they ever want to set up their home directly next to it? It seems crazy, doesn’t it?”

It was my turn to nod. “It does, but I’m not sure what you’re getting at with this story, princess. What does this have to do with Rarity?”

Twilight smiled at me and stood up. “Why don’t you take a little trip down to Sweet Apple Acres? I think talking with the Apple family would do you some good.”

“What about your story?”

“That was the story.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything!”

“No, you just didn’t understand anything.”

I looked at her in confusion, she just smiled sweetly. “You’re hiding something.”

“You knew that already, Mr. Deadline. I’m just amused you haven’t figured it out.”

“I could make a story of this, you know. Ponyville’s hidden secret.”

“You could, but like Rarity already said, nopony would believe you.”

“So it does have to do with Rarity?”

“I told you it did. So did she.”

“But why are you allowing me to learn about it?”

“Because you want to so badly. But we did warn you.” Twilight motioned to me and led me down the halls back toward the front door. “When you speak with Applejack, be sure to mention the timberwolves, Applejack might not know enough about them, but maybe Granny Smith will be lucid enough to explain it to you, if you’re lucky.” She stood in the door of the castle as I bowed and wished her a good day.

“I’m still upset about all this, but thank you, Princess.”

“Don’t thank me yet, what you’re learning will be life-changing, of that I have no doubt. You will not enjoy it, I can assure you.”

“We’ll see.”

“Indeed, we will. You have a pleasant day, Mr. Deadline.”

I nodded and went the direction she had pointed me. It was a long and dusty road, but Sweet Apple Acres was easy to find. It was the only orchard in Ponyville and if you followed the apple trees you were bound to find the farmhouse eventually. They covered acres upon acres of land, and I had to wonder how the Apple family wasn’t in control of all of Ponyville if they owned this much land to work.

I passed by tree after tree only to be stopped by a country-styled voice shouting at me. “Hey there, partner. Ah recognize you. Yer that feller Pinkie Pie dropped off, ah? Come to chat with me, have ya?”

I turned to the voice to see an orange mare with a blonde mane trotting toward me. She looked strong, certainly strong enough to beat me up, or pretty much anypony I had ever known. “Hello. Miss Applejack, I presume?”

“Dead to rights, I reckon. So, the fact you’re still in Ponyville tells me Rarity didn’t convince you otherwise, eh?”

“Convince me of what?” I played innocent, hoping to get more information.

“Don’t be stupid, pardner.” She jabbed a hoof at me. “Ah’m the element of honesty, and you can’t fool me. You’re here for a story, so a story you’ll git. Come and walk with me.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” I said as I followed after her. “Every bit of information is useful to me.”

“Well, quit it. It’s unbecomin’ of a stallion to play ignorant like that. Who’ve you talked to already?”

“Just the princess.”

“Twahlight? Alright, that’ll segyoo- segyuh-,“ she grunted, “that’ll move real nice into my story.”

Applejack cleared her throat and began, “So, when Ponyville was founded, the Everfree Forest was a menace. Vines would leap out of the forest at us, destroying our houses and harming ponies who strayed too close. That was bad enough, but the worst thing were the timberwolves. How much do you know about timberwolves, Mr. Deadline?”

“Not much, other than that they look like sticks piled together.”

“Not just look like, they are sticks. Bundles of sticks in the shape of large dogs. But sticks don’t do that naturally.”

“They certainly don’t.”

“So that means some sort of magic was at play, here.”

“Untamable magic from the forest itself. That’s why the two sisters lived there at first, as protection and an attempt to tame it. I know. What does this have to do with Rarity?”

Applejack stopped walking. We were next to the Everfree forest, the oppressive darkness within its tightly-packed trees just a short hop away. She turned to look at me and scratched her chin for a long moment. “Y’ever thought you might not be cut out for journalism?”

I gave her a flat look. “You’re implying that Rarity was the one who protected Ponyville?”

Applejack beamed at me. “Y’ain’t a total lost cause after all!”

My look persisted. “That makes no sense. Rarity’s only about 30 years old, unless I miss my guess. She isn’t an alicorn, either, so an extended lifespan is out of the question. Not to mention, her magic focuses on gemstones, not forests.”

“Oh, yeah? And where’d y’learn alla that information?”

“It’s common knowledge. Everypony knows it!”

“Uh-huh,” Applejack nodded at me. It was condescending in the way a mare or stallion will nod at a foal who has finally figured out their multiplication tables. Like they’re so proud of you and glad you managed to meet the minimum of their expectations.

I resisted the urge to punch her. She could shatter me with a kick. Instead, I looked at her, then turned to the forest nearby. “Okay, fine. All my information is wrong. What’s the truth?”

“Ah ain’t givin’ it to you so easily. Try to use that journalistic sensibility and tell me what y’think it would take to make somethin’ like angry vines and horrible stick-dogs.”

“A lot of magic.”

“Yeah?”

“Dogs made of sticks, moving vines, all-consuming insects, rock-covered lizards. Those are all the ones I know of. What are you getting at?”

“Ah’m sayin’ that a lotta magic is involved, and it ain’t just magic runnin’ amok, neither.”

“It could just be luck.”

“Don’t luck seem a bit much for somethin’ like that?”

“I guess? I still don’t see your point.”

Applejack slapped her face with a hoof. “Ah’m just givin’ you the answer, and you still don’t get it?”

“What, you’re saying…” I said, “…you’re saying Rarity did all of that?”

“There y’go! You’re not as dull as I’d thought!”

“Wait, but how? Those things are way older than she is!”

Applejack tapped the side of her nose with a hoof and trotted back toward the farm.

“You can’t just leave it like that, that claim is nonsense, how can you back it up?”

“Ah can’t.”

“Then I don’t believe you!”

“We all said you wouldn’t.”

“What am I supposed to do with this information?”

“Whatever you like.”

“This… this is…”

“Ridiculous?”

“Well, yes.”

“Look, Mr. Deadline, we don’t care what you do or don’t believe. We’ll continue livin’ however we choose, and you can come or go however y’like, but you wanted to know. Believe it or don’t. We don’t care.”

“But—”

“Ah got work t’do, Mr. Deadline. Ah’ll see y’around, I’m sure.”

Applejack went back to her bucking, and I was left standing in the middle of the orchard, forgotten. True to her word, she didn’t care if I stayed or went, and she said nothing else to me. I left, of course. She had said her peace and I wasn’t her concern anymore, a stallion from the city who didn’t know anything about them and didn’t want to, just seeking out the next big, petty story about some designer or other piece of artwork that didn’t mean anything. I could be dragged into the Everfree Forest for all she cared. For all any of them cared. I wandered back down the road to Ponyville proper, alone with my thoughts.
> Chapter 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I made it back to Sugarcube corner, the local sweet-shop, without getting dragged into the woods. The proprietor who had drugged me welcomed me back with open hooves and a smile, and I was given a meal on the house.

“I promise this one isn’t drugged,” the pink mare said, loud as you please.

“Uh, thanks.” I looked around, but despite so many ponies being in the shop, none of them seemed to care about what she had said.

“I just thought Rarity wouldn’t want you to be snooping as usual, so I thought I should get rid of you, but I didn’t want to push you away, so I thought if I drugged you I could keep you somewhere, but I didn’t want to have that kind of responsibility, so I decided I should ask somepony else what I should do with you, but it was late and I didn’t want to interrupt anypony, except Rarity, she’s always awake, so I brought you to her, and now here you are. Are you leaving?” the pink pony said in a single breath.

“I was thinking about it, yes.”

“Aw, most ponies are always curious, and they end up staying. Aren’t you curious anymore?”

“I am, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to think. It’s all too unbelievable. The mare on the apple farm told me that Rarity is responsible for the Everfree Forest being the way it is, but she’s too young for that!”

The pink mare, Pinkie Pie, I think Rarity had called her, covered her mouth with her hooves and giggled.

“Why is that funny?” I asked.

“Because everypony falls for that, she’s not young at all!”

“What? How old is she?”

“I’m not sure, but I know Ponyville doesn’t have enough candles for her cake!” She grabbed me and leaned in to whisper. “Believe me, I tried one year. I almost burned down the entire town.” She snorted a laugh and let me go.

“What? How can a non-alicorn live that long?”

“Pffft! She didn’t, silly!” Then she bounded away back to the counter, leaving me to my pancakes.

I didn’t know what to make of that comment. Twilight Sparkle had said Rarity was here at the founding of Ponyville, or heavily implied it. Applejack had said Rarity was the cause of the Everfree being the way it was, and Pinkie Pie had implied Rarity hadn’t lived that long, but instead had just existed. But she wasn’t an alicorn!

With this knowledge in mind, I set off to visit Rarity again. These were questions that needed answers, and Rarity’s friends were not going to be the best source of information. The only pony who knew for certain, was Rarity.

The day wasn’t over, but I burst into the boutique anyway, fairly kicking down the door. “Rarity, we need to talk!”

Rarity was helping a customer try on a new suit. The customer flinched at my entrance, but Rarity didn’t so much as budge. She was so unsurprised she didn’t even stick the pony with the needles she was so carefully stabbing into the shirt.

“Of course, darling, but you’ll have to wait until work is done, like I told you. I am a businessmare first and foremost, and I have paying customers.”

I persisted, my journalistic belligerence forced me to. “How old are you, really?”

“Bro, you can’t just ask that of a mare,” the pony on the dais said.

“It’s alright, he’s frustrated,” Rarity said. “He has questions only I have the answers to.” She turned to look at me. “How old do you think I am?”

“According to the stories from your collaborators, you’re older than the Everfree Forest.”

“A common misconception, but no, I am not.”

“They were lying.”

“No.”

“What?”

“You assumed too much. I’ll explain after work, like I said.”

I sputtered, but Rarity went back to her work and I was forced to wait.

The waiting throughout the day was difficult, but it gave me time to watch Rarity as she worked. She was elegant, as everypony knew, and she dressed well.

What had changed, however, was the way I perceived her.

Where previously I had seen a fashionable mare that was intent on maintaining her weight so that she would fit the fashion world was now intimidating. The shadows her cheekbones cast over her face, and her sunken eyes now hid secrets I was only guessing at.

Older than the Everfree? As old as the Everfree? Maybe a product of the Everfree? Her friends had been no help and had only served to fuel the fires of my imagination as I tried to pick out which answer was going to be correct. What reasons would she have for keeping her secrets? What causes did she work for, hidden under the shallow veneer of fashion? Was she out to destroy Equestria, which was why nopony would believe me? I’d have to agree, I’d never peg her as the overlord type, but I couldn’t fathom what other things she might be working at. The waiting was the worst part.

For her part, however, Rarity was the picture of a model seamstress. She was careful, detail-oriented, and above all: Fashionable. Her work was what I expected from my years of following her. It was impeccable, and each pony that came in received an outfit that complimented their color, fit them snugly without being too tight, and was impressively unique. No two suits or dresses were alike beyond their resemblance to each other based on them all being Rarity’s work. It was all utterly dissonant to my fears and expectations. I was dreaming of awful things while Rarity was doing nothing but creating beauty. I didn’t know if I should hate myself or her.

She provided me tea while I waited, which only made it worse.

When she finally finished, and the last customer walked out the door, she turned to me and picked my empty teacup off the table I was sitting at and returned it to the kitchen. She came back out and sat across from me at the table.

“Shall we go for a walk?” she asked.

“Yes, please.” I was eager to find out more, she was holding all the cards, and my curiosity was burning so hot I didn’t care if she had plans to murder me. I just needed to know! “Will you explain while we walk?”

She opened the door to the boutique for me and we stepped outside. She started walking down the road to Sweet Apple Acres. “Yes, of course. Some things. Other explanations are best shown.”

“But you’ll tell me everything? I don’t care if nopony will believe me, after talking to your friends I just have more questions, and I have to have them answered.”

“As everypony did. I understand. What is foremost on your mind?”

“How old are you, really? You’ve been hailed as having a model’s dream-body, but it… hides what your age is.”

Rarity laughed that broken-glass laugh again. “That’s quite a funny story, actually, but I won’t get into the specifics just yet. My age? I am just over a thousand years old.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. Her gaunt face, sunken eyes, and-were her eyes always yellow? “I feel like I’m the butt of a joke, here.”

She shook her head. “No jokes, just the honest truth, but you’ll remember my caveat?”

“Nopony will believe me.” I waved a hoof. “I know, and I accept that, but I’ll need more than just a claim.”

“That’s why we’re going into the Everfree forest.” She said as we turned off the road onto a small path leading to the forest in question.

“What’s in there?”

“Your proof.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll be patient. My next question: Why do your friends claim you made the Everfree the way it is?”

“That is because I was bored. It’s why I got into fashion, actually. When you don’t die and everypony else hates you, you have to do something with your time. So, I used my skills in magic to make the forest a little more exciting! More daring! It’s when I found my passion for fashion, you know. Boring sticks collected on the ground? Clean them up! Make them into something more fun! They’ll pick themselves up as they run about!” She grew more animated as she talked about herself. “That boring old lizard living in the swamp? He could use a coat. Cover him with rocks! Cragadile! Showing off earthen dress with flair! Nearly invisible insects fluttering about? That won’t do. Give them all bright colors! A rainbow buzzing through the woods! The vines were the only thing that didn’t turn out the way I wanted. The perfume they spewed wasn’t… pleasant. I never got that right. I think I grew bored.” She shrugged.

“You… did all of that because you were bored?”

“Well, what do you do when you’re bored?”

“I usually go spend time with friends, but I don’t have that much spare time to begin with.”

“You live long enough and you find yourself with nothing but time.”

“Okay, so say I believe this, why are you that old?”

“Magic, darling. Twilight is the element of magic solely because she uses it for more… utilitarian things. Mine focuses on beauty.”

“Like, angry timberwolves.”

“I think you’ll find the Everfree forest is far more beautiful without stray sticks on the ground.” She stuck her nose up and gave a *hmph*.

“Okay, that’s probably a fair point,” I said.

“Of course. I am the foremost name in fashion.”

“So, wait,” I said, suddenly realizing, “you have all this time and all you’ve done with it is focus on fashion?”

“The one thing ponies all agree on that shall remain permanently elusive and utterly capricious,” Rarity said, placing a hoof against her chest. “Desirable beyond all else, yet forever fleeting.”

“While I’m inclined to agree with you based on the work I do, fashion isn’t necessary for survival.”

“You think so? There are tribes of ancient ponies who wore clothing to battle that struck fear into their enemies’ hearts. You think that isn’t fashion?”

“It wouldn’t have worked if they hadn’t been fighting other ponies.”

“Obviously. But for their survival at the time, it worked beautifully, wouldn’t you say?”

“Well, they’re not still around, so that’s debatable.”

“Don’t be obtuse. They met ponies who didn’t share their culture. Fashion doesn’t work if there isn’t shared taste.”

We came to a small clearing. I realized I had followed Rarity into the forest without paying attention to where we were going. Thankfully, I could fly, but if I injured a wing I would be lost.

“Sure…” I said, “but what are we doing here?”

“I’m showing you proof.” She smiled at me. It bared far too much of her teeth.

Off to one side of the clearing I saw a large boulder. At its base there sat a small growth of gemstones jutting up from the ground. Rarity led me to the gemstones and pointed at them.

“There is your proof.”

“What, gemstones? Were these the ones you found as a filly? Or… not a filly, just the ones you found in your story of your foalhood?”

“No, these are different, but you’ll have to dig.”

“Dig? Rarity, I didn’t bring a shovel.”

She sighed. “I suppose you’ll never find out, then.”

“You didn’t tell me I’d be digging! You didn’t warn me about anything!”

Rarity laughed yet again. “Calm down, darling. It was a joke. You’re so very uptight about all of this.” She moved closer and dug up the dirt in front of the gemstones with her magic. Clods of it flew off to one side in a fountain of soil until a pile of it had been made and a large, stone casket unearthed. “This one I’ll leave to you. It’s your last chance to turn away and leave this all behind you. Inside that sarcophagus is your answer, and I guarantee you will not like it.”

Resolute, I climbed down into the hole. “I didn’t come all this way for answers only to turn back at the threshold. Whatever’s inside can’t be too bad. Magic secrets are strange, but they’re not horrifying.”

“This one may be.”

“What, did you kill somepony for your magic?”

“Technically, yes.”

I stopped pulling at the lid and looked up at Rarity. Her face was flat and expressionless. She stared down into the hole at me, unblinking. I waited for the sound of shattering glass, but her laugh never came.

“You’re… you’re serious.”

“As I said, ‘technically’.”

“You don’t ‘technically’ kill somepony. You either did, or you didn’t.”

“You’re not very familiar with magic, then.”

“Are you talking about necromancy? The princess outlawed that centuries ago.”

“I was alive before it was outlawed.”

“And a corpse is going to help me believe that?”

“Yes.”

“Rarity, is this some sort of elaborate joke? Do you hicks in Ponyville get off on making fun of journalists who come by, is that it?”

“Mr. Deadline, are you interested in answers or not?”

I slapped a dirty hoof against my face. I knew I looked awful, having not gotten the right amount of restful sleep, having run back and forth across Ponyville. Still, I couldn’t back down from answers, even if they were a joke. Ponies liked jokes.

“Fine.” I jumped back into the hole, yanked on the lid, and with a little help from Rarity’s magic, it scraped open.

Rarity held her horn light above it and cast it down. I gasped when I looked inside and found myself at a loss for words. I hadn’t been expecting anything specific, but this was certainly not one of the things that were on my list. Magic stones, old tomes, jewelry, glass orbs, the typical magic stuff had all been on the list, but not this.

Inside the sarcophagus, was Rarity.

I cackled. “Seriously? You planted a fake corpse in the middle of the Everfree to drag everypony to when they come asking about your life? That’s real tacky, Rarity. I mean, no wonder nopony will believe me, because this is an elaborate prank! And the fact that you got all of Ponyville to get in on it with you, that takes a lot of influence and talent! No wonder! Woo!”

“I’m not fake,” Rarity’s voice came from the sarcophagus underneath me.

“…what,” I said, my expression frozen as I turned to look.

I turned to look, and the corpse in the sarcophagus, all dry skin and frayed mane, missing teeth and cracked hooves, sat up and looked at me.

“You may feel my legs, if you like,” she said, as she held out a dessicated hoof to me.

I leaped out of the hole, wings flapping hard to gain altitude. “Woah, there! Holy shit! Good joke, but cut it out, this is no longer funny!”

“I’m not joking,” both Rarities said at once. “I just told you nopony would believe what you saw. This is what they won’t believe.”

“What is that thing?” I shouted, louder than necessary.

“That’s me. The original body. It hasn’t held up to time very well, has it?” The Rarity outside of the hole scratched her cheek with a hoof.

I just hovered there in disbelief, unsure what I saw or what to say.

The Rarity in the sarcophagus spoke up first. “Darling, what you’re seeing is the result of decades of research. It’s not pretty, I know, but that was why I worked to create the simulacra that are all over Equestria.”

“Simula-what?” I said, still keeping far above the two of them.

“A simulacrum is an image or representation of somepony. Unsatisfied as I was with my wasting beauty,” —the sarcophagus Rarity flipped her ratty old hair— “I went and created newer versions of myself I could control.”

“Control? Versions? Wait, there’s more than just the two of you?”

“It’s all just one ‘me’, darling. I’m just controlling multiple ‘me’s’ at the same time.”

The sheer amount of information I was having to process was overwhelming. Multiple Rarities? Corpse Rarities? Rarity in the Everfree? I didn’t notice that my hooves had touched down again until the fresher Rarity had grabbed me by my withers.

“Relax, Mr. Deadline, you’re hyperventilating,” she said.

She was right. I heaved in air and let it out again, under the gentle pressure of her hoof the black spots encroaching on my vision slowly went away as I breathed.

“Okay… okay… so there’s Rarity,” I pointed at the Rarity that had her hoof around me. I looked at the one in the sarcophagus with her wormy head sticking out and recoiled, “and Rarity, but you’re all the same.”

“Yes, exactly!” they both beamed.

“But why?”

“Because I couldn’t stand to be ugly, for one, though I missed that chance. The other reason is that I adore the changing landscape of fashion that ponies have! Absolutely adore it!”

“…fashion,” I said flatly.

“Of course, darling! We went over this, didn’t we?”

I threw my hooves up. “I guess! But living on and on for nothing but fashion?”

“Well, there was the odd evil monster intent on taking over Equestria that I had to stop, and the wild Everfree I had to control, not to mention all of the politics I had to take part in to ensure ponies wouldn’t kill themselves.” Both Rarities rolled their eyes. “Don’t get me started on that.”

“But we have the elements of harmony to take care of the monsters, and the princesses are managing politics just fine.”

“Darling,” Rarity laughed that awful, glassy laugh, “I’m part of the elements. I always have been, you know.”

I put a hoof to my mouth as I pondered that. She’d always been an element of harmony, and had always lived in the forest, but then, what about Ponyville? I said as much.

“Why do they all seem to be in on this?”

“Because they know, darling. They’ve always known. I am Ponyville’s best-kept secret.”

“If you want it to be a secret, why branch out to Manehatten and Canterlot?”

Both Rarities put a hoof to their chests and looked up at the sky. “To share my vision for fashion with the world!”

I pursed my lips in thought. “Just fashion…”

“And the other things I mentioned.”

“And Ponyville knows.”

“Of course.”

“Wait, what are you, then?”

“I’m a pony, darling.”

I pointed at the derelict Rarity with a wing. A beetle crawled out from behind her left eyelid and wandered across her rheumy eyeball. It stopped and looked around for a moment, then skittered to the end of her muzzle and up her nostril. “That’s not a pony.”

The Rarity next to me looked over at her other self. She frowned. “Yes, I know. I don’t much look like a pony, do I? If I had to pick a name for myself, I suppose ‘corpse’ would be the best, wouldn’t you say?”

“You look like one.”

“How rude!”

“You said it first!”

“You’re supposed to tell a mare she looks lovely no matter what. But the word doesn’t quite do me justice, how about corpse in Old Ponish? ‘Lich’ sounds better, wouldn’t you say?”

“I… guess?”

“Ancient and mysterious, while still getting the message across.” Rarity nodded, pleased with herself. “Names are part of fashion, you know. You can make the most beautiful dress in all Equestria, but if you call it something awful, nopony will buy it.”

I shook my head ruefully. “Are you… dead, then?”

“Oh, goodness yes! I’ve been dead a very long time.”

“Which body is yours, then?”

“They all are.”

I pointed at the one in the sarcophagus. “But this one is the original.”

“Yes.”

“Can you be killed?”

“It’s possible, I suppose. I wouldn’t recommend trying it.”

“What would kill you?”

Rarity looked at me with a small smile and half-lidded eyes. “Mr. Deadline, do I scare you?”

I looked between the fashionable Rarity next to me, and then over at the milky-eyed creature leaning on the edge of the dirt entrance to what had been her grave not ten minutes ago. “It’s… not something I thought I would ever encounter?”

The sarcophagus Rarity made a guttural noise that rose in volume, then scrabbled at the dirt with her hooves. She dug deep furrows in it before she dragged herself out of the grave and jerked across the ground toward me. I yelped in fright and tried to fly, but the second Rarity held me down with unnatural strength. I could only watch in terror as her head twisted upside-down and glared at me upon her approach. I covered my face and screamed.

Nothing happened. No ragged hooves grabbed me, no rotten teeth tore into my skin, and no dry, parchment skin touched me. Instead, I heard that breaking-glass laughter coming from two bodies at the same time. I dropped my hooves to the ground and scowled.

“You should have seen your face! Oh, my goodness, Darling, I am so sorry, but I couldn’t resist.”

“What was that for?”

“Mr. Deadline, you were asking questions about how to kill me. Surely you realize I can’t share that information. Or rather, I won’t.”

“Okay, okay. I was just curious, it’s not like I was going to try to stab you or anything.” I still tried to pull away, this time I was allowed. The look of disgust and revulsion on my face must have been obvious, because Rarity didn’t say anything for some time, she just looked at me while I scuffed a hoof against the ground.

“Shall we go back, Mr. Deadline?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You sound dissatisfied.”

“Wouldn’t you be? I mean, I came out here looking for a story, and what I get is something too perfect and completely unbelievable! It’s all true, but nopony will buy it!”

“I did warn you.”

“But I know all this now! What do I do with it?”

Rarity just shrugged. Her decayed body walked back over to the sarcophagus and dropped inside unceremoniously. I could hear the scraping of stone on stone as she covered herself back up, then dragged the dirt back on top of her grave. “You can do whatever you like. Try to publish it, if you want. I don’t imagine anypony will believe it, but if they do, you would be set for life, I imagine.

“You would let me publish it?”

“I never said I wouldn’t, I just do not believe anypony would read something so outlandish.”

“What if they believe it and hate you?”

“That would be quite a feat. Maybe it will be interesting if they do. I haven’t had to defend myself in centuries.” She looked up wistfully. “Ahhh, the unicorns weren’t happy when I started dabbling in necromancy. Their combined might brought to bear against me.”

“You don’t resent them for it?”

“Goodness no! I was a terrible monster back then.”

“Wait, you were?”

She took my hoof and we began the walk out of the Everfree. “Oh, yes. Necromancy isn’t easy, you know. You need bodies, and you need secrecy. That’s why I came to live in the Everfree when it was still a dangerous, wild place.”

“What did you do?”

“Exactly what you would imagine. I dug up bodies, pulled them apart, put them back together, tried to make them work again.”

“Ew.”

Rarity rolled her eyes and snorted in disgust. “Ew, indeed! Bodies are disgusting, all dripping fluids and oozing organs. Bones, now those are fashionable. I once made an entire line of fashion based off bones, you know.”

“I… don’t know if I want to ask.”

“It’s just as well. I used far too many ribs, there wasn’t enough variation.”

“Ribs.”

“Yes.”

“And… where did you get these ribs?”

“Where do you think I got them?”

“Ah.”

“You ask so many questions you already know the answers to, Mr. Deadline. I get the feeling you don’t fully understand me. As though you, yourself, haven’t yet bought into what you’re seeing.”

“I’m having a hard time, yes.”

Rarity put a hoof to her chin in thought. I didn’t know what she was debating with herself, but I imagined it wasn’t going to be something very pleasant for me to see or experience. She eventually looked back up at me with yet another grin.

“I think I know what I can do. You saw my corpse, what do you think of that?”

“I’m not sure,” I answered honestly. For even though I had seen it, it could have been a trick. It could have been a simple illusion laid over another pony who had been waiting in hiding for just such an occasion, planned whenever somepony came to Ponyville asking about her. There were a lot of things it could have been, and none which I could be sure about.

“You don’t believe, yet,” she said.

“I don’t know what to believe. On the one hoof I have a fashionista with a loving family who grew up around Ponyville—are they even your family?—and on the other hoof I have a centuries old ‘lich’ that… what, controls all of Ponyville?”

“I don’t control them, they help out of the goodness of their hearts. They love me, and I them.”

“So who are your family? Hondo, Cookie, and Sweetie Belle, who are they, really?”

“They are my family. Adoptive, of course. Officially recorded. It’s a lot more believable than, “Single mare moved here from far away,” you see.”

I nodded. It helped her cover story, at any rate. “And your friends, are they really your friends?”

“I made them like you would with other friends, yes. Celestia warned me her student was coming ahead of time, so it was a simple matter to ingratiate myself to her and eventually become good friends.”

I stopped walking. “Wait, wait, wait. The princess? Celestia? She told you her student was coming?”

“Yes, that’s right, darling.”

“You’re on speaking terms with the princess?”

“Princesses. Luna was a good friend as well, before she was banished.”

“Wait, again. You’re older than Nightmare Moon’s banishment?”

“I told you I was. Really, it’s like you’re not even listening.”

I clutched my head in my hooves. “Wait… I can barely keep up, here. You’re on a first-name basis with three princesses—”

“Four, Cadance as well. I’m sure Flurry Heart will like me once she’s old enough to stop wetting herself.”

“That’s…” something twitched in my head, “You know what? I’m going to publish it.”

“Are you really?”

“This is just so crazy, ponies will read it just to hear what crazy ideas I managed to come up with. It will be a hit.”

Rarity didn’t look convinced. “I can’t say for certain that it will work the way you plan, but ponies do love things that are ridiculous but attention-grabbing. I did win a contest with clothes made out of hotel decorations once.”

“Yes, exactly! The more ridiculous, the more they’ll read it, even if they don’t believe it!”

“You sound excited.”

“I am! This will open up a lot of opportunities for me, and will put my name at the top once again!”

“If it all goes the way you imagine it will, then I am happy for you,” Rarity said without a smile.

“It’ll be great! I can embellish what you’ve actually said, put in some extra information that can’t possibly be verified, and then play up how strange and unusual you are. Again, this is all completely unverifiable information, but it’s sensational, and that’s what’ll get ‘em!” I pumped a hoof in excitement.

Rarity just remained silent on our walk back to the boutique. Several ponies gave me odd looks as we returned to town, but Rarity waved them off. I didn’t notice at the time, but her expression was flat and unhappy.

“I think you are selling your audience short, Mr. Deadline. Do be careful what you say and to whom you are saying it. It may have unexpected side effects.”

“Like what? Ponies love a good story, even if it is fictional. Or in your case, too big to be real.”

“But there are always the few, and you need to think what would happen if somepony were to believe it.”

“Nopony will believe it. It’s too ridiculous.”

I didn’t listen to her or her comments on what might happen. I was too excited about the attention I would get for writing such an amazingly crazy article. When we returned to Ponyville and I was once again in a safe place, I left her there with a sweet goodbye, and I got on a train back to Manehatten.
> Chapter 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I couldn’t wait to get it published! I was excited beyond measure about the possible conversations I would be having with various news outlets, sensational radio talk shows, and various other interviews on stage or what-have-you. When I finished writing the article and submitted it, the reaction was exactly as I had expected. There was shock, disbelief, and even more disbelief.

The fact that I had been promised immunity from any backlash had emboldened me. Rarity wasn’t going to persecute me for it beyond the token amount necessary to maintain her image. Coco Pommel and Sassy Saddles weren’t going to try to get me for slander. The article itself was ridiculous, and when it hit the streets, the reaction was exactly what I had expected: Laughter.

Ponies were talking in the streets about how Rarity had become a fashion designer because she had wanted the Everfree Forest to be pretty. Ponies were laughing at how Rarity had created the perfect fashion model body as a hobby in her spare time. Ponies got a chuckle at how she had dressed the cragadile in rocks so he wouldn’t be naked, and the parasprites so she could see them easier. It was a joke, and a big one at that. It never made it into Equestrian Fashion, but other tabloids ate it up, and I loved it. I was a hit.

But then I learned Rarity was right.

The tales about the Everfree had given encouragement to some ponies to read too far into it. The first recorded instance of a pony disappearing into searching for Rarity’s supposed ‘treasure’ hit the news within a month after its publication. I began to hear conspiracies about Rarity and the forest circling the streets. Tales of hidden gold, magical fashion spells, and superstitions came from all over.

And it was all my fault.

Ponies were selling expeditions to find Rarity’s ‘fashion secret’ inside the Everfree and many weren’t coming back. It was a dangerous place, and even more dangerous for somepony from the city with no experience in the wilds. Deaths and disappearances began piling up, and a lot of them were suspiciously unusual.

Blame was laid at my hooves for their actions, as I had been the one to start talking about them. Ponies who didn’t know the difference between a tabloid and a reputable source of information came to find me, pounding at my door for more information about the source of Rarity’s fashion secrets and her gemstone cache. They were hunting for treasure and were convinced that I was hiding the source. Some even claimed I had it with me and that I should share it.

I decided to lay low. I returned to Ponyville, contrite, and slumped into Rarity’s boutique, head bowed.

“Welcome back, Mr. Deadline. I’ve been expecting you,” said Rarity as I dragged myself in the door.

“I figured you would be.”

“You see now why nopony ever shares it? Ponies are too quick to believe there’s more to something than immediately meets the eye, and so it is with your story.”

“They’re after a treasure that doesn’t exist.”

“Oh, no. It exists, but I can’t let them have it.”

I looked up at her. “Wait…”

“You forced my hoof, darling.”

“You’ve been killing them?”

“What? Oh, no. I haven’t been doing the killing, I’ve been spreading the lies. If they get themselves killed, that’s unfortunate, and I try not to, but they can be very stubborn.”

“You’re letting them die, then,” I said, unhappy.

“Some of them, yes,” she said sadly. “The ones who find my grave. I don’t need that kind of threat looming over my head.”

“I… guess not,” I sighed out. “I feel responsible.”

“You are responsible.”

I gave her a wry look. “Gee, thanks.”

“I did warn you not to publish it.”

“You said they wouldn’t believe me!”

“And they don’t.”

“Then what are they doing in the Everfree?”

“They’re looking for what they’re reading -between- the lines, not what you’ve written. They think your farce is hiding something.”

“How do I fix it? They’re getting themselves killed out there, and it’s all my fault!”

It was Rarity’s turn to sigh. She never put down the outfit she was working, but she turned to look at me while her clothes seemingly made themselves under the guidance of her magic. “You have two options, darling. You can let the rumor flourish, weeding out the ponies who are interested in the treasure enough to go seek it to their deaths, or you can publish another story that will draw attention from it.”

“Another story? Why should they believe a new one over the first one?”

“Because I’ll be helping you with this one,” Rarity said with a grin.

“Well, I don’t want more ponies to die because of me. What would you suggest we do?”

“What you will do, darling. Not we. I had no hoof in this.”

I flinched at the reminder. “Alright, alright. You’ve made that point clear. What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to write another story confirming that it’s all true.”

“What!” I yelled. She raised a hoof to try to calm me down. “We’ve already had ponies die from the first one, why do we want more ponies going into the Everfree?”

“Because those ponies were too eager and unprepared. You bear no responsibility other than emotional. It sounds cold, but after centuries you get over it.”

“It is cold.”

Rarity ignored me. “Tell them you’ve found the treasure, and it’s in the Everfree, and Rarity doesn’t know you know.”

“Then why would I publish it?”

“I’ll leave the details up to you, but tell everypony that there is a treasure you have found belonging to the illustrious Rarity in the Everfree Forest.”

I looked at her askance. “You’re not planning on getting rid of everypony who believes it, are you?”

She looked hurt. “Darling, do you truly think so little of me?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

“Then go and write that story, and when you come back, I’ll have it all prepared for you.”

“It all prepared…? What?”

She didn’t answer and instead ushered me out the door, insisting that there was work to be done. The door shut behind me and I was left to myself. I had no idea what I was going to do, or how I was going to do it, but Rarity said she had plans, and I didn’t have any, so I obeyed. I returned home and started writing.

By the time the second story came out, you couldn’t hear anything in the streets or at the cafes but rumors about the treasure that had been found, and about me.

Many ponies wanted to interview me asking about it. There were non-believers (myself included), and believers, ponies who wanted to draw more secrets from me about the treasure and ponies who wanted to expose me for the fraud I was. I talked to both sides with equal interest (which was to say, not much).

Eventually, I received a visit from Rarity’s aide in Manehatten, Coco Pommel.

“Mr. Deadline, yes?” I was out eating when the mare approached me. I recognized her immediately.

“Yes, Ms. Pommel?”

“Oh, you know me! I suspected you might. I have a message from Rarity.”

I felt eyes all around us stop and look. Ponies were still interested in what I had to say, strangely enough. I didn’t know what to do about it.

“Right here?”

Coco looked around and shrugged. “Rarity says it’s alright if other ponies hear. She wants you to go get the treasure, if you dare. It’s all yours. Just come to this location in the Everfree in three weeks’ time.” She handed me a slip of paper with a map of Ponyville and a path I should take to the Everfree.

“Should… I let other ponies know?”

“There’s enough for everypony, yes.”

I was confused but took the paper and nodded. “I’ll… let them know, then.”

“Good luck, Mr. Deadline.”

As soon as Coco left, the gathered crowds around us dispersed, heading off to whatever magazine, paper, or other company they worked for. I stood up as well, but I knew I wouldn’t have to do much. Information that was stolen was infinitely more enticing than information that was a freely given. By the time I had published my own story, telling ponies about the location they should meet in three weeks, other outlets had already had the location leaked.

I arrived back in Ponyville early, to see to visiting Rarity. I’d been wary, but there was nothing else I could do about it save prepare for whatever was coming and hope Rarity was as benevolent as she said.

Her voice rang out when I entered the boutique. “Welcome, Mr. Deadline.”

“How did you know it was me?” I asked, halfheartedly.

“Nopony can open a door with such confused despondence as you, Mr. Deadline. I should think you would be happy about all the attention you’ve been getting.”

“Attention is a double-edged sword. If I don’t deliver something amazing, my career is over. What do you have planned?”

“I’m not going to let you spoil the surprise, Mr. Deadline. You’ll have to wait and see just like everypony else,” she said with a click of her tongue.

“You’re not going to kill them, are you?”

“That would draw far too much attention, Darling. Not to mention it would place the blame on you and me both. I wouldn’t drag anypony else into my messes without their consent.”

“Yeah, I won’t consent to that.”

“As I thought,” Rarity said as she deftly sewed the final stitch into the dress. “Now, I knew you would be coming, so I arranged for you to stay with Twilight at her castle, and I’ve made it public knowledge. You’ll have a lot of visitors for the next couple of days, so I suggest you start getting comfortable.”

“What? Why?”

Rarity tapped the side of her nose and grinned. “To keep you from snooping! You’ll see it all soon enough.”

I was pushed out of the boutique and morosely wandered over to the Castle of Friendship. As I walked I discovered that I wasn’t the only one prepared to come early and try to find out what was happening. There were crowds of ponies gathered around the elements of harmony, chattering away at them. The one I recognized as Pinkie Pie was enjoying herself, but the others looked so tired.

Poor Applejack had collected a group of ponies with her apple cart and was discussing the “virtues and values of apple-buckin’” versus using magic to collect the fruit.

Rainbow Dash, one of the elements I hadn’t met during my last trip, but I recognized her from the Wonderbolts, was talking about how cool she was and her latest feats of flight. The ponies collected underneath her on the ground were taking photographs, listening intently, and were utterly distracted from what they might have come here to do. If they were after the ‘treasure’, like I was, they had been effectively distracted.

Princess Twilight’s castle was no exception to this. Despite having been told I had a place to stay, I didn’t think Rarity would have extended the invitation to other ponies. Princess Twilight’s castle was swarmed with ponies come to marvel and gawk at the newest home of the newest princess. Twilight hadn’t set up any sort of rules or regulations, and had no guards other than her own friends and the ponies of Ponyville. So, ponies could wander up and even take a chunk of the castle off to take home, which they were doing with reckless abandon. It apparently healed itself with magic, but her dragon (Spike, if I recalled?) was trying to get them to clear off and leave it alone without much success.

I entered the building and called out. “Princess? Are you here?”

She appeared in a flash of light with a slightly panicked voice. “Yes! Yes. Yes, I’m here. How can I help? Mr. Deedlit, right?”

“Uh, Deadline, Princess Twilight,” I said.

“Sure, sure. Sorry. We’re a little bit busy, with the upcoming… surprise, Rarity has planned.”

I scratched the back of my head and looked away. “Yeah, that’s my fault. I’m sorry about that.”

“Oh, no worries! Rarity knows what’s best, after all. If she thinks this’ll clean everything up nice and neat, it probably will.”

“You’re just… going along with it all?”

“Yep!” Her horn flashed. I didn’t see what happened, but there was a scream outside.

“But you’re a princess, why do you do everything she says?”

“Oh, pffft! Princesses are easy. There’s like, five of us now. But there’s only one Rarity!”

“I… guess that makes sense. She’s that powerful, huh?”

“Oh, of course! I may be the element of magic, but magic is friendship, and friendship is generous.”

“So she’s powerful enough to… say… stop an entire army?”

“Absolutely!” She stopped and looked at me. “You think she’s going to kill everypony?”

“No! Well… maybe? I don’t know what her plans are, and I’d be lying if I wasn’t worried.”

“Mr. Deadline, please just calm down. She’s not going to kill an entire crowd of ponies for no reason. She’d only do that if she thought it would prevent the rest of Equestria from being in trouble, and then as a last resort.”

“So she -would-, you’re saying.”

“Yes, but since she’s not well-known to ponies like the princesses, if the princesses got enough complaints, they would attack Ponyville, Rarity, and the entire Everfree Forest if they had to.”

“So she’s not immune to the princesses.”

“No. We probably wouldn’t be able to kill her permanently, but we’d have to make a show of it, and she wouldn’t come back as the same pony, for obvious reasons.”

“Have you ever had to do that?”

“Not me, personally, but Celestia had to during a conflict in the middle Equestrian period. I think that was when she took on the moniker ‘Rarity’. Then she was just moving around ever since until Ponyville was founded.”

“Huh. So even a pony as powerful as she is can be harmed.”

Twilight looked at me sternly. “Mr. Deadline, I would prefer you keep any plans you might have out of this. Rarity has it all under control, and if you try to harm my friend or expose her in any way, I will make your life utterly miserable. Are we clear?”

“Yes, princess. Your castle clear.”

She blinked, the chuckled. “Heh… because my castle is made of crystal, so crystal clear.”

I nodded.

“Come this way, Mr. Deadline. My friends are keeping your guests entertained, so your job is just to stay here and keep busy until the day arrives.”

“Of course, Princess.”

So wait I did. I even kept myself occupied with reading inside the castle. I went outside only once, to try to visit Rarity, but she brushed me off. Her friends came to visit Twilight a couple of times, and I tried to glean something from them, but each one of them was tight-lipped about what was going to happen. Even the pink one, who seemed bubbly and outgoing and most likely to spill, zipped her lip shut and wouldn’t speak, though I couldn’t say if they weren’t willing to talk, or just didn’t know themselves.

As the time approached the crowds grew even bigger. I sequestered myself in my room in the hopes that I would be ignored, but Princess Twilight seemed intent on keeping me busy. I think it was payback for putting Rarity in this position, but I was hounded almost constantly by fans and other ponies out to hunt the treasure. I had only a few moment’s peace, so I was exceedingly glad when the day finally arrived.

We all migrated out to the Everfree Forest en masse. Some ponies were afraid of it, but with Ponyville’s residents there and the princess of friendship herself they calmed down. Everypony poured into the woods and followed Twilight to the destination, which I recognized as the strange clearing with the grave at one end. It seemed… closer to Ponyville than I remembered, and bigger. The gemstones marking the grave at the far end were much bigger, as well. To make it obvious? Was this all fabricated?

I felt a hoof take mine and looked who it was to see Princess Twilight grabbing my hoof. She dragged me out in front of the crowd and over to the gemstones. Grass had grown over the grave from when Rarity had brought me here, if this was, indeed, the same spot. She passed me a shovel and nodded.

“Mr. Deadline will now be digging up the treasure! Everypony keep your eyes peeled to see what will be coming up!” she yelled.

“Why does he get the treasure?” somepony yelled.

Nopony responded to the shout. To be fair, I didn’t really want it. I wanted this whole mess to blow over so that I could go back to writing about bad fashion choices and mistakes and blaming ponies for not knowing how to create things. Whatever Rarity had planned, however, was caused by me, involved with me, and I would pay the piper with whatever she’d cooked up, so I dug.

Cameras flashed as the shovel bit into the dirt. Other reporters were going to talk about this and whatever happened would indelibly stain my career from here on out. No turning back.

I dug down and my shovel hit the sarcophagus I remembered. Reporters pushed in closer and ponies gathered around to see what it was. At that moment, the sarcophagus began to rumble.

A deep, grumbling voice speaking a language I didn’t understand called out in a rage-filled voice. Ponies cried out in terror, and some of the reporters shouted at me, telling me I had brought everyone to share in my misfortune. The sky darkened with clouds and lightning flashed in the sky, followed by deep, rumbling thunder.

Then spotlights came on.

Something banged against the casket lid once, twice, then threw it up and out of the hole. I stood pressed against the side of the dirt walls as Rarity’s corpse floated up and out of the sarcophagus. She grabbed my throat with a hoof and lifted me up with her. I choked, kicking and flapping my wings to try to escape.

“WHO DARES DISTURB THE RESTING PLACE OF RARITY?” she boomed. All hooves pointed at me. She glared at me with sunken, dead eyes. “YOU WANTED TREASURE?” I just choked. She nodded in response. “THEN I SHALL SHARE WITH YOU THE BEST THAT I HAVE!”

There was a flash of light and smoke. I felt the grip on my neck disappear, and I landed on something hard and wood. There was a whoosh and I heard a laugh, then the sound of a cannon. Confetti sprinkled down around me, and I heard the broken glass cackling of Rarity herself. The smoke was blown away and then music began. I looked around and found myself on the end of a stage, covering the gravesite, with spotlights, held by pegasi up above, pointed at none other than Rarity herself!

She had replaced her dessicated corpse with the more presentable one, and was wearing a brand-new outfit, all in dark colours. She lifted her nose and strutted down the runway—for that’s what I was sitting on—toward the end and to me.

Ponies were all in awe now, a cheer rose up and cameras flashed once more. She had put together a fashion show in the Everfree forest! She marched around me, then went on her way back down the runway.

As soon as Rarity went behind the curtains, she showed up out of the opposite side wearing a new outfit. This happened again, and again, then the corpse Rarity came out, wearing nothing but leaves and sticks. This prompted a laugh. She even snarled at the audience as she went by, getting a shout of surprise and more laughter. She was playing the audience, and she was doing it well.

It went on for some time, Rarity showing off a line of clothes she had probably made for this purpose alone, and when it ended, I was left more confused than ever, but relieved that I wasn’t going to have to deal with her killing more ponies in the woods. As the last of the audience left after her show, she came up to me.

“Problem solved, Mr. Deadline.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess? Darling, I put all that together just for you, you know.”

“You could have just left it.”

“I don’t just leave things, Mr. Deadline, and I’m not stupid. I know an opportunity when I see one.”

“I don’t know how you turned that around like that, but it worked.”

“I have a lot of friends, Mr. Deadline.”

I looked around at the ponies all cleaning up the clearing, pulling down the stage and taking away the lights. “So it would seem.”

“Yes, and I’d like to keep them.”

“Yeah, I am sorry.”

“Don’t be! Did you know you’re actually the first pony to publish that story?”

“What? I thought you said some had tried before.”

She shook her head. “That was a little fib to dissuade you from doing so. It had a bit of a different effect than I’d expected, I must admit.”

“But—”

She tapped me on the nose. “No buts, Mr. Deadline. Now, I’m quite exhausted, and I think we should have tea.”

“Exhausted? Can you even get exhausted?”

“No, but it’s a good excuse for tea, don’t you think?”

“I… guess?”

“Then come. All my friends are invited, that means you.”

“Well, thanks, I guess.”

“We can talk about your next photoshoot of Rarity.”

“Next one?!”

The End.