When Rarity d'Aubigny, master swordswoman (as well as the Princess' most trusted servant), is wounded in an ambush, she's taken in by a humble peasant family ... but can she recover in time before her enemies find her and finish her off?
Rarity d'Aubigny, master swordswoman (as well as the Princess' most trusted servant), is sent on a mission of great importance, only to be waylaid along the way! When wounded in an ambush, she's taken in by a humble peasant family ... but will she be able to recover in time before her enemies find her and finish her off?
Swashbuckling AU schenanigans here. Because that's a thing, right?
Rarity d'Aubigny reined her horse to a halt. Raindrops streamed from the brim of her hat as she tilted it back to size up her would-be assailants. There were three of them blocking her way in the road, pistols drawn. With the three of them standing shoulder to shoulder, there was no room to move past them on the narrow ridge-road. The forest on Rarity's left was too dense and steep to traverse, and the drop to the right would have given her vertigo if she could have seen all the way to the bottom. She'd been riding for hours, too-- there was no way her poor, tired horse could simply charge through the bandits, or even outpace them if she turned to flee.
Rarity took some small consolation in the fact that, to judge by their muddied boots and rain-sodden cloaks, they were having just as miserable an evening as she was.
“Who sent you?” Rarity drew herself up taller in her saddle, letting her voice carry through the otherwise empty wood. “Was it the Marquis? The Cardinal? The Duchess? Or do I owe this pleasure to some hithero unknown antagonist?”
“Your money or your life?” One of the cloaked men stepped forward, brandishing his wheel-lock.
Rarity sighed.
“Please. Abandon this facade. 'Tis embarassing. You're no bandit-- I can see the cut of your silk doublet from here, and the only crime that pays that well is in finance. Furthermore, a proper brigand wouldn't bother with firearms in this weather. By now, your powder's probably as damp as your stockings.” Rarity swung out of her saddle with practiced ease, knee-high boots splashing in the mud. She tossed the edge of her cloak back, revealing the polished hilt of the rapier hanging from her left hip. “Now then, gentlemen (and I use the term loosely), you have a choice. You can either get out of my way, or ... well, I'm sure you know what happens next. I'd much prefer the former, as I have some quite pressing business to attend to.”
The leader of the bandits (or at least the one who had been doing the talking) leveled his gun and fired. Or at least, he tried to, as his pull of the trigger resulted in an empty metallic click, and nothing more. Frustrated, he threw the useless pistol to the ground, and his two comrades followed suit. Three swords snaked from their scabbards.
“Ah.” Rarity drew her own sword, its slim length glimmering needle-like in the evening gloom. “I expected as much.”
The bandits-- assassins ---whoever they were-- piled upon Rarity all at once. She snapped her blade up in a tight arc to catch all three points and push them aside. She retreated a step, giving her opponents just enough room to get in each other's way as they blundered forward. They tripped over themselves, almost merging into a single, lumbering creature with an overabundance of limbs and a scarcity of skill.
Steel rung on steel as Rarity parried one lunge, then another. The third almost took her through the belly, but she managed to sweep her cloak upwards with her free hand, tangling her opponent's blade. With surgical precision, she reached over the top of her cloak, angling her rapier down to sink a handspan of steel into her opponent's sword arm. The first of the bandits cried out in pain and dropped his sword into the muck of the rain-soaked road. The other two pressed their attack, ignoring their wounded comrade. Rarity set her jaw and met them head on-- she repeated her trick with her cloak to bind the first sword, then caught the second on the quillions of her rapier. Steel slid on steel as Rarity leaned in, running her own sword down the length of her foe's blade, getting in close enough to snap a savage kick into the fork of his legs. A dirty trick, perhaps, but that dark, muddy road was as about as far from a genteel fencing salle as one could get. The man made a choked, wheezing noise as he dropped his sword-- Rarity slammed the pommel of her sword into his jaw anyway, making sure he went down. Another dirty trick, which is to say a quite effective one.
The bandit still standing disengaged, backpedaling a few steps without taking his eyes off of Rarity. The swordswoman smiled a courtly smile, falling into a practiced, easy stance, just the way her father had shown her so many years ago. Rainwater dripped from the brim of her plumed hat, and droplets of blood did the same from the tip of her blade.
“You can still step aside, you know. Just tell whoever sent you that I was too much for you. Which, I might add, is quite true. You might've had a chance if there were, say, a dozen of you, but I rather doubt it.”
The bandit (or assassin, or whoever he was) fumed-- and with a great, enraged cry, he lunged.
Rarity smiled.
Her opponent was angry-- and therefore sloppy. It was a simple matter to beat his blade aside, then easier still to whip her own point into line--
--or at least it should have been.
As she stepped forward, Rarity's boot squelched deep into the mud of the road. She flailed, off balance-- and then cried out in pain as she felt the point of the bandit's sword punch through her doublet and pierce her side. By reflex, she whipped her sword in a loose backhand, slashing her assailant across the face. He fell back, swearing and clutching at his cheek-- but Rarity had no time to savor the satisfaction of her victory, as the wild, unaimed blow had thrown her off balance. She leaned precariously over the edge of the ridge-road-- until her boot finally came free with a wet 'pop!' Rarity tumbled backwards, hanging impossibly in the air before she hit the slope and started rolling. Branches cracked and broke as Rarity plunged down into the darkness.
She didn't know when she hit the bottom of the incline; the world spun around her one moment, then suddenly stopped the next. Dazed, Rarity pushed herself upwards, leaning her back against a tree. She tugged off one of her gloves with her teeth, then gingerly ran bare fingers over the wound in her side. The fresh jolt of pain forced her to bite down on the leather of her riding-glove. Even in the damp gloominess of the night, Rarity could still see the splash of red on her fingers and the dark spot spreading across the side of her navy blue doublet.
“Well, damn.” Rarity said to herself, dazed and giddy. “That's going to leave a stain.”
She winced, feeling the previous night's abuses catching up with her. A quick survey of her surroundings confirmed that she wasn't dead; the small, humble bedroom she'd woken up in was far too cozy to be hell, yet not nearly impressive enough for heaven. Sunlight streamed in through the room's single window, illuminating a cluttered room barely big enough for the bed she slept on. The smells of old wood and fresh apples hung in the air. Quite homey, if in a rather humble way.
Rarity pushed back the rough woolen blanket, at which point she found herself with her second and third surprises of the morning: someone had dressed her wound, and undressed the rest of her. While it wasn't the first time she'd woken up in a stranger's bed, typically the process leading up to that point was far more enjoyable. Rarity made another quick survey of the room, noting that her boots, clothes, and sword were all decidedly absent.
“First stranger we seen in weeks, and it's a lady dressed up like a man!” An old woman's voice complained from the other side of the only door leading into the bedroom. “It's trouble, I tells ya! Trouble!”
“She's in trouble, that's what.” A second, younger voice said. “She coulda been dressed up like a clown for all I care-- I'm not gonna just leave somebody to die out in the cold. So she's here now, and there's nothin' to be done about it. So if you're not gonna help, would you at least please stop complainin'? You're gonna wake her up, at this rate.”
“Too late for that.” Rarity mused.
The door opened, and Rarity's savior walked in.
The peasant girl wore a plain but well-mended dress of brown wool, with an off-white linen apron tied around that. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing toned arms and calloused hands. With the freckles on her cheeks and the bright look in her green eyes, she had a youthful, innocent air about her, despite her just-shy-of-imposing stature.
“You're awake.” The peasant closed the door behind her.
“Indeed I am.”
“Uh. Hi.” Even her voice had an earthy charm to it. “My name's Applejack.”
“Rarity d'Aubigny, at your service. I would like to extend my gratitude for your hospitality. And don't worry, I shall be out of your hair soon enough.” Rarity planted her bare feet on the floor and stood up-- only for the movement to elicit a fresh flare of pain from the sword wound in her side. Rarity bit back a curse, staggering forward--
--and into the peasant girl's arms.
Which could've been a rather pleasant place to be, Rarity mused, were it not for the minor annoyance of a stab wound.
“Whoa there!” Applejack sputtered.
“Ah.” Rarity gritted her teeth. “I fear I may need to impose on your household for a little while longer. Don't worry-- I'll see that you're well compensated.”
“Easy now.” Without so much as a grunt of effort, Applejack picked Rarity up and eased her back into the bed. “Nobody's gotta compensate anybody just yet.”
“Indeed.” Rarity pushed her blanket aside and peered down at the bandage around her side. It was clean, at least, but roughly done. Scarlet had already started to seep through the white linen. “Applejack, was it? You still have my things, yes?”
“Uh, yeah. In the other room.”
“Could you bring them to me? As well as some water that's been brought to a boil-- and brandy, if you've got it. The stronger, the better.”
“Ain't it a bit early to start hittin' the hard stuff?”
“Not after what I've been through.”
That was enough to earn a bemused smile from Applejack-- and soon enough, the farmgirl went to fetch the items Rarity had asked for. As Applejack went through the door, Rarity caught a fleeting glance of a few other peasants: a burly man with the same freckles as Applejack's, a small slip of a girl with an oversized bow in her hair, and a wily-looking old lady. There were a few faint murmurs on the other side of the door, but soon enough Applejack returned, carrying Rarity's gear. The younger girl (a sister, Rarity figured) scuttled in afterwards with a copper bowl and an earthenware jug. She gawked at Rarity like she was the newest addition to the Princess' menagerie before Applejack shooed her away.
“Thank you.” Rarity picked up her doublet and ran her fingers over the inside lining, searching for the hidden little pockets she'd sewn in. She found the one she was looking for, and pulled out a small, curved needle, a tiny pair of scissors, and a length of catgut. Rarity winced again as she twisted about to get a good look at her wound. She was lucky-- the wound was shallow, a grazing blow that hadn't gone through to her vitals. Rarity cleaned her needle first with the hot water, then with the brandy, then did the same to her wound. She took a slug of the apple-flavored liquor to brace herself, and then got to work.
Suture by suture, Rarity stitched her wound closed, just as careful and methodical as if she were making a last minute alteration to one of the Princess' court gowns. It hurt, yes, but each stick of the needle paled in comparison to any number of greater pains she'd taken in the line of duty. Also, the brandy helped. By the time the job was done to her satisfaction, Rarity realized she was sweating-- but she'd managed to keep her hands steady the whole while.
Applejack just watched the whole operation, wide-eyed. She at least kept her curiosity in check enough to hand Rarity tools as she asked for them. When Rarity finally finished, she looked up at the other woman's face. “Where'd you learn how to do that?”
“I'm good with a needle.” Rarity picked up a fresh strip of linen and tied it around her midsection. So long as her stitches held (and they always did), the wound would be nothing but a thin scar on her pale flesh-- the newest of several. “It's just one of my many talents. Comes quite in handy in my line of work.”
“That why you're wearin' a man's clothes?”
“Technically, I'm not wearing much of anything right now.” Rarity winked, and took no small degree of satisfaction in the subsequent blush that rose on Applejack's cheeks. Rarity knew from experience that if she felt good enough to flirt, she'd be well on her way to recovery. Also, the brandy helped. “Furthermore, these aren't a man's clothes-- they're mine. I made them myself.”
“So you're some kinda ... actress, then?” At least Applejack had used the polite term.
“No.” Rarity shook her head. “At least, insomuch as any of us are acting, playing our given parts as best we can, despite the lack of a proper script, to say nothing of direction ... “
Applejack blinked.
“Like I said, not an actress. I am, in fact, in the employ of the Princess--”
“What?” Applejack gasped. “The Princess?”
“Yes, quite impressive, I know-- urk!” Rarity choked out in surprise as Applejack's steely fingers closed around her neck.
“I won't let you hurt my family!” Applejack snarled, bearing down on her.
Rarity grabbed at Applejack's wrist, but even her sword-calloused fingers couldn't dislodge the other woman's grip. Her rapier, safe in its scabbard, lay on the other side of the room-- it might as well have been leagues away. Not that she wanted to use it, either-- it was quite bad form to stab the host in most circumstances.
Instead, Rarity groped blindly about with one hand, finally closing her fingers around the copper bowl she'd washed her needle in mere minutes before. She swung the bowl in a wild, desperate arc and hit Applejack in the side of the head. The copper bowl rung like a ceremonial gong, and Applejack let go of Rarity's neck, falling back onto her rear, stunned. Knowing an opening when she saw one, Rarity rolled out of bed and lunged for her sword, closing her hands around the hilt. She had just enough time to whip her sword out of its scabbard before the door burst open, and the rest of the peasant family burst in. The big one had a pitchfork, while the old matriarch brandished a cast iron frying pan with murderous intent. The youngest stood at the rear of the group, gawping at the tableau.
“See! I told ya she was trouble!” The matriarch said.
Rarity backed herself into a corner, blade angled out in a defensive stance. Even if she was naked, outnumbered, and already wounded, she at least had her sword. Rarity knew her priorities. She chanced a quick glance at the narrow window-- in a pinch, she might be able to slip through. If she were lucky, she might even be able to grab her boots before she defenestrated herself.
“There appears to have been a mistake.” Rarity rubbed side of her neck with her free hand. “I didn't come here to hurt any of you.”
“So says the lady with a sword out.” Applejack scrambled up to her feet and rejoined her family at the other side of the room.
“Only as a precaution.” Rarity didn't lower her blade-- but she didn't move to attack, either. “Though it seems you've caught me with everything out.”
Rarity cleared her throat, at which point Applejack's big brother blinked, realizing just what the situation was. He blushed brighter than his sister and averted his eyes in a too-late attempt at propriety. He awkwardly handed the pitchfork off to Applejack, then slipped out of the room.
“Well, that's a start.” Rarity said, deadpan. “Now then, what's this business about the Princess?”
“She's squeezin' us dry!” Applejack tightened her fingers around the haft of her pitchfork. “And now she's sent you to collect her taxes-- in blood! Just like Lady Sunset said!”
“Beg pardon?” Rarity said. “And just ... who is this Lady Sunset?”
“She owns this farm we work on-- owns all the farms in the valley.” Applejack nodded. “She's real smart, too-- she's been keepin' tabs on what's goin' on in the rest of the country, even though we haven't had any visitors in a long while.”
“Is that so?” Rarity thought back to the 'bandits' who had accosted her on the road the night before. “In that case, let me ask you something-- do I really look like a tax collector?”
“I ... guess not?” Applejack said.
“And, if the Princess really wanted to terrorize her subjects (which, for the record, she assuredly does not), don't you think she'd send more than just one woman?” Rarity gently laid the flat of her sword against Applejack's pitchfork and pushed it downward.
“When you put it that way, it don't make much sense.”
“Indeed it don't. Doesn't. Whatever.” Rarity let the point of her rapier rest against the floor. “Either way, you have my word that I have not come to collect blood or taxes from you fine folk. In fact, I'd rather like to get to the bottom of the matter myself, if you'll let me put on some trousers.”
A short while later, Rarity sat at the kitchen table of the Apple cottage, properly attired in boots, doublet, breeches and baldric. Her travel wear lacked the lace and embroidery she preferred-- but such were the sacrifices one made in the line of duty. At least Applejack and her family had gotten the bloodstains out. Except for the minor misunderstanding that had everyone waving weapons at each other an hour earlier, the Apple family had proven themselves to be the most courteous of hosts. Even if Granny Smith (as Rarity had gathered her name was) still kept a hand near her cast iron skillet.
“So let me get this straight.” Rarity said, leaning back in her chair. “This Lady Sunset only recently came into lordship over the valley.”
“When she married Lord Whistletop, yeah.” Applejack nodded.
“Who then died soon thereafter.” Rarity said.
“Rest 'is soul.” Granny Smith held one hand over her heart.
“He was pretty old.” Applejack noted.
“And Lady Sunset is notably younger. Hm.” Rarity planted her booted heels on the floor pushed her chair into a thoughtful lean. “And ... a few months after that, Lady Sunset started telling you that the Princess had gone mad.”
“Eeyup.” Applejack's brother Big Macintosh (as Rarity had gathered his name was) nodded.
“Seemed like somethin' a Princess would do.” Applejack shrugged. “Lady Sunset kept on tellin' us what happened to other towns that had gotten her mad, and when folk stopped comin' down the ridge-road--”
“You had no one to tell you otherwise.” Rarity rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “Which explains why nobody's heard word from your little valley in quite some time. The question is, what does this Lady Sunset get out of it? Is she just looking to line her pockets, or is she planning something bigger?”
“I dunno.” The youngest of the family, Apple Bloom (as Rarity had gathered her name was) peered out the kitchen window. “Why don't you ask her yourself?”
Rarity stood to look out the window-- and sure enough, a large carriage, flanked by a half dozen riders in black livery, clattered down the road to the humble little farm. Applejack put a hand on Rarity's shoulder, leaning in to get a look for herself.
“That's Lady Sunset, alright.” Applejack said, grim. “We'll go talk to her-- you'd better stay outta sight.” Applejack nodded, resolute, and led the rest of her family out the front door, just in time to sink down into curtseys (and a low bow, in Macintosh’s case) as the carriage creaked to a stop in front of the humble cottage.
Rarity, meanwhile, flattened her back against the wall by the window, and watched.
Applejack kept her knees bent and her eyes downcast for a few long moments, the farmyard silent save for the snorts of the horses and the occasional clink of riding harness. Finally, a slim hand, gloved in black lace, pulled back the curtain on her carriage window. Rarity could only get the briefest glimpse of widow's veils and flaming-red hair.
“You may rise,” the woman inside the carriage said.
“Thank you, Lady Sunset.” Applejack and the rest of her family straightened up, but kept their eyes downcast.
“I hope you are faring well?” Lady Sunset didn't bother stepping out of her carriage-- or even moving from where she sat. “Last night's storm was quite impressive.”
“We've weathered worse, Lady Sunset.”
“Mmm. I'm sure you have. But I still have a great concern for all of my subjects-- I would hate to think that anything here was ... damaged overnight.”
“Uh, nope. Everything's fine. I'm sure you've got better things to worry about than li'l ol' us, Lady Sunset.”
“Oh, but if only that were true.” Lady Sunset gave a little sigh. She waved her hand, and several of her escort riders dismounted, at which point they began to prowl around the farmyard. Rarity shrank away from the window-- though she did smile to herself as she noticed one of Lady Sunset's men had his arm in a sling, and two more of them wore fresh bandages wrapped around their faces. “You see, my scouts have warned me about a threat to our little valley. A dangerous outlaw has come for us. To rob. To murder. To pillage. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened-- the Princess is mad. Weak. The roads are unsafe, and I fear we shall see even more brigandry in the days to come. But you may rest assured that I shall do everything in my power to protect you from the dangers of the outside world.”
“Thank you kindly, Lady Sunset.” Applejack said. “But we ain't-- we haven't seen anyone like that around here. Nope. Lucky us, right?”
“My apologies, I did not hear you.” Lady Sunset beckoned Applejack closer with a crooking of her gloved finger. “Could you come closer and repeat that?”
Applejack looked back at her family, then back to the carriage. She nodded, then walked a few steps closer. Lady Sunset beckoned again, and Applejack went closer still, until she was practically standing on the carriage's running boards.
“Like I was saying, Lady Sunset, we haven't seen anyone. Thank you for lookin' out for us, though?”
“Your name is Applejack, isn't it?” Lady Sunset reached out the window, trailing her fingertips down the side of Applejack's face.
“Yes'm, Lady Sunset. I'm, uh, flattered you remember.”
“Oh, I make it a point to get to know all my subjects.” Lady Sunset said. “Which is why I know you're a terrible liar.”
The sound of her slap rang across the farmyard, loud as a church bell. Applejack staggered backwards, rubbing her cheek-- more surprised than hurt.
“Search this hovel!” Lady Sunset barked, and her guards leapt to obey. “Tear it down, brick by brick, until you find the Princess' sycophant!”
“And the peasants, Lady?”
“You know what to do.” Lady Sunset ordered.
Swords hissed from scabbards.
Rarity's chief amongst them.
“Lady Sunset, I presume?” Rarity strode out of the cottage, cloak flowing behind her, and steel glittering in the morning sun. One of the closer men in black livery made a hasty, clumsy lunge at her. Rarity beat his sword aside with a dismissive flick of her wrist, then sank half a handspan of steel into his shoulder for his trouble. He cried out, staggered back-- but his fellows kept their distance.
“Rarity d'Aubigny, at your service.” She doffed her hat and swept into a courtly bow towards Lady Sunset's carriage. “And I must say, you are quite well informed for someone this far from the Capital. As, I am indeed in the employ of the Princess-- and I am indeed quite dangerous, as some of your men have already found out.”
Rarity straightened up, put her hat back on, and winked at the man with his arm in a sling.
“You dare?” Lady Sunset seethed.
“Quite often.” Rarity said with a little shrug.
“You should surrender now.” Lady Sunset said. Her men circled around Rarity, wolflike and wary-- which gave the Apple family ample opportunity to scoot out of harm's way.
“Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you.” Rarity said. “As honestly, I'm far more reasonable than, say, a column of Captain Armor's cuirassiers. As, well ... I wouldn't want to presume and start throwing around words like 'treason,' but from what I've seen so far, it's the sort of thing the Princess doesn't take kindly to.”
“I know the Princess better than you think.” Lady Sunset sneered. “Mark my words, Rarity d'Aubigny-- you shall regret your blind loyalty.”
“And you, Lady Sunset, shall regret your treachery. Rather soon, I imagine.”
“Confident words, from a dead woman.” Lady Sunset clapped her hands. “Take her!”
The men in black livery surged forward. Blades clashed together in a cacophony of metal, interspersed with the occasional high-pitched cry of surprise or pain. Rarity wove her way between her opponents with balletic grace, dodging, parrying-- and striking. Within the span of a few heartbeats, three of Lady Sunset's men lay on the ground, clutching at their wounds.
“Damn you all, she's just one woman!” The biggest of the lot (one of the 'brigands' from the night before, now with a bandage on his face) shoved his way past his fellows. He slashed at Rarity, only for the swordswoman to block the overhand blow with the flat of her blade. He pressed in, using his greater mass to bear down on Rarity. She planted her feet, bracing herself-- only for her opponent to suddenly snap his free hand out in a quick punch, hitting her in her wounded side. Rarity choked out a gasp of pain and fell to one knee.
The big man barked out a laugh, raising his sword for a finishing blow-- which never landed.
Rarity looked up-- and there was Applejack, standing behind the swordsman, hand locked around the wrist of his sword arm. The big man barely had enough time to yelp out in surprise before Applejack grabbed the back of his swordbelt with her free hand and, with a grunt, lifted him bodily over her head. She hurled the dismayed soldier at a cluster of his fellows, and the lot of them crashed to the ground, somehow managing not to impale themselves on their own swords.
“Thank you.” Rarity stared up at the amazonian peasant girl, momentarily awed by the display of strength.
“Figured you could use a hand.” Applejack reached down and clasped a strong hand around Rarity's arm, hauling the shorter woman up to her feet.
“Just be careful, will you? I'd rather not have to stitch you up once this is all done.”
“Don't worry.” Applejack cracked her knuckles. “I been in a scrap or two before.”
“I dare say this is more than a 'scrap,' darling.” Rarity smiled. “Now then-- tally ho!”
Rarity sprung forward, her sword flickering back and forth. Whenever Rarity's sword parried an opponent's blade to the side, Applejack would press in, delivering heavy punches that sent Lady Sunset's men-at-arms reeling. The two pushed forward, cutting a swath through Lady Sunset's men as she charged towards the black-curtained carriage.
“Give me a boost!” Rarity said. Without breaking stride, Applejack grabbed Rarity around the waist and hoisted her up into the air, giving Rarity the extra elevation she needed to scramble up onto the carriage's roof. Rarity bounded to the front of the carriage and planted her boot in the carriage-driver's face. Caught by surprise, he flailed his arms as he toppled from his perch and fell in the mud.
“You brazen, swaggering, idiot.” Lady Sunset leaned out her carriage window with a horse-pistol in hand. She snapped off a shot, the pistol ball close enough to put a hole in the brim of Rarity's hat. Lady Sunset dropped the spent weapon and reached for a second. “Even you can't fight forever-- what do you think you're going to accomplish?”
“Just this.” Rarity said, and slapped one of the carriage-horses on the rump with the flat of her sword. The horse whinnied-- and without anyone rein it in, immediately launched into a gallop. Rarity hopped off of the carriage as it built up speed, then tipped her perforated hat to Lady Sunset, savoring the shocked expression on her face as her now driverless carriage clattered down the road.
Rarity watched the carriage disappear around a bend in the road, then turned to face Lady Sunset's stunned men-at-arms (the half of them that were still in fighting shape, at least).
“Gentlemen!” Rarity spread her arms wide. “I do, of course, use the term loosely. Once again, you have a choice! You can either have a go at me-- which will assuredly end badly for you. Or, you can go chase after your mistress and make sure she doesn't break her neck. It's a win-win, honestly, as you'll all get to look loyal, and you won't have to worry about getting stabbed. Not by me, at least. So what do you say, hm?” Rarity twirled her rapier around in a figure-eight, her sword swaying from side to side like a blood-stirred cobra.
Lady Sunset's men looked at each other-- then down the road –then to the confident and well-armed woman standing in the middle of the farmyard. As one, they took the more prudent option and broke into a sloppy jog, chasing after Lady Sunset's runaway carriage. They at least had the camaraderie to take their wounded with them.
Rarity planted the tip of her sword into the dirt, leaning on it as she watched Lady Sunset's men flee. The further away they got, the more Rarity's strength ebbed away, reminding her of the many abuses she'd undergone so far. By the time the last of Lady Sunset's men was out of sight, Rarity was breathing hard, clutching at the freshly-stitched wound in her side.
“You alright?” Applejack said, even as the rest of her family gathered around.
“For the most part.” Rarity lied.
“So now what?” Apple Bloom fretted with her apron as she looked up at Rarity with wide, innocent eyes. “Is Lady Sunset gonna be mad at us?”
“Lady Sunset is going to be mad at ... lots of people.” Rarity said. “Which is why I must go to the Capital and report back to the Princess.”
“But what about us?” Granny Smith shrilled. “What's stoppin' Lady Sunset from comin' back for us?”
“I know a place where you can hide. Head eastward until you hit the Reine river, and then follow it south for a day or two, and you'll find a small chapel at the edge of the Everfree Forest. Ask for Sister Fluttershy, and tell her I sent you. She'll be more than happy to give you sanctuary until all this blows over.”
Granny Smith narrowed her eyes. “You think we can just up n' leave, just like that?”
“Ah ,of course.” Rarity said, and reached into her doublet, pulling out a cloth pouch. She tossed it to the older woman, and the pouch jangled heavily when she caught it. “There's just under fifty livres in there-- should be enough to keep you taken care of on the journey.”
Granny Smith opened the coin pouch just far enough to get a glimpse of the gold inside, then looked up. “I'll go pack.”
It didn't take long for the Apple family to bundle up what they needed for the journey. In the meanwhile, Rarity acquired one of the horses that Lady Sunset's men had left behind in the chaos of their rout. She smiled, patting the white-coated mare on the side of the muzzle as she took hold of her reins.
“You got another one of those, or am I gonna have to ride behind you?”
Rarity turned to face Applejack, who had her arms through the straps of a large backpack, bulging with who knew what. “Aren't you going to accompany your family?”
“Big Macintosh can take care of 'em, just fine. I'm more worried 'bout you.”
“Me? Whatever for?”
“'cause I know you still got those stitches in your side, and I know that you can't keep up like you've been goin' forever. Nobody can.”
“I don't have to go forever, dear. Just long enough to get to the Capitol.”
“Then I'll keep an eye on you 'til then, at least.”
“This is going to be one of those things where you stubbornly refuse to listen to reason no matter what I say, isn't it?”
“Eeyup.”
“And no matter how dangerous I tell you it's going to be, you're just going to remind me of how you tossed Lady Sunset's ruffians around like you were playing tenpins, won't you?”
“Eeyup.”
“In that case--” Rarity smiled as she sized up her new traveling compainion. “Let's get you a horse.”
Rarity sighed contentedly as she closed her laptop.
As if on cue, the school bell rang, signaling the end of her study hall period. The students around her jostled and joked amongst each other as they scooped up their bags and headed to their next class. Rarity slid her computer into her custom-stitched sustainable-canvas messenger bag (enviro-chic was in this year) and joined the stream of boisterous teenagers. She made it out into the hall, which seemed to have the whole of Canterlot High's student population crowded into it. Still, in the mix, Rarity saw the flame-red hair of her friend.
“Oh, hey Rarity!” Sunset Shimmer weaved through the crowd. “What's-- oop!”
Sunset's greeting trailed off into a dismayed yelp as she accidentally bumped into one of the boys in the football team, careening off of his bulk-- and into Rarity. The two thumped into a bank of lockers-- and in the mix, Sunset grabbed hold of Rarity's wrist for balance.
Her necklace glowed.
Her eyebrows furrowed.
Her sigh was audible.
“Rarity, did you really have to make me the bad guy?”
