Riches to rags
“My lady, it is a great pleasure to see you again. You look positively stellar in your dress.”
“Oh, Darling, I am so glad you accepted my invitation.”
“As if I could ever deny your company, my love.” A small awkward laugh rang out. “Though I admit, I don’t quite understand why you called me to this… dirty field of all places. I thought you’d wish to meet in a more refined establishment. You know I care little for the peasantry.”
“Why, this isn’t some mere field! This beautiful orchard deserves to be world-famous! The rows of trees look absolutely divine at this hour, you simply must see them from up close. I even invited a close friend of mine to show us around. I hope that is not an issue.”
A moment of silence and a small sigh followed. “Certainly not, my lady,” came the reply with only the slightest hints of deep disappointment and slight discomfort. “This is just not exactly what I was expecting from an ‘unforgettable night’.”
“Of that I am certain, Darling,” said the other with an odd slowness, before she became chipper once more. “Now then, come, let us not have her wait on us.” Her tail swished seductively as her voice dropped to a husky low. “And who knows, perhaps there might be more to this night than you thought.”
“A-At once, my lady!” he replied with sudden eagerness and followed her into the darkness.
Oh, blessed Sun and Moon, have mercy on him.
Many would agree that there were few more relaxing things to do than taking a trot down the picturesque streets of Ponyville. As one made their way through the well-trod path, their journey was framed on both sides by small, welcoming cottages, with windowsills full of flowers flooding the air in a sweet, fresh scent. The sounds of doors opening and closing blended into the melodious birdsong, as the anything-but-sleepy town’s many inhabitants visited each other or went about their business with a dutiful, yet leisurely pace.
In the distance the canopy of the gentle giant that was the Golden Oak Library loomed over the horizon, its height matching the mayor’s own marble tower. Though the library stood empty for many years, the ponies were eager to cultivate the ancient tree, which in turn gave a refreshing shade to many in the warmest months.
With such an idyll permeating the city, one would have been easily forgiven to think it was impossible for anything to be less than perfect in this place.
And yet, on a small clearing in the middle of the town, there stood a single building around which the very air itself seemed to have frozen into ice. The few ponies who couldn’t avoid going near it did so in complete silence and with many wary glances towards the gloomy inside of what used to be the beating heart of the city’s fashion.
Though even from the outside one could tell that something was amiss. The once-gleaming windows stood caked in dust and the walls painted with welcoming warm tones were chipped and fading. Even the ever-present flowers below the windows stood wilted and abandoned, most of them having long died and the few still clinging to life pale and sickly.
Occasionally some ponies left a loaf of bread or bowl of fruits in front of the door. For many the only sign that the building was still occupied was the overnight disappearance of these gifts.
Like a blotch of ink on a piece of paper filled with beautiful calligraphy, the desolate boutique stood out from the rest of the city so focused on celebrating the joy of life.
If any outsiders dared ask why such an eerie building was allowed to exist in Ponyville of all places, they were only met with gloomy glares wholly uncharacteristic of ponies and hushed whispers talking about a tragedy and the white mare of the creak. Most, being respectful and polite folk, would leave it at that, but every once in a while some ponies would get a little bit too nosy and decide to investigate.
Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the answer wasn’t too hard to find. Ponyville, after all, had only a single creek, a tiny gentle stream, perfect to race paper-boats. If one took the time to follow its bed for a little while, they would surely stumble upon a curious scene.
Far from the bustling center of the city, in a quiet spot, a unicorn mare stood next to the water. Her coat was a dullish light-gray, except right above her front hooves, which gleamed in pristine white. In said hooves she held a soaked white dress, which she gently lowered into the water before pulling it out again after a little time had passed. Under her faded and frayed purple locks, two endlessly tired eyes peered restlessly at the dress.
Out of the few that stumbled upon her, even fewer had the courage to call out to the mare, most preferring to watch her from a respectful distance, before leaving with a silent prayer to the Princess on their lips.
While she never removed her eyes from the cloth, the few who tried to interrupt her work received a surprisingly warm and polite apology from her, often addressing them as “darlings” and promising to “be with them the moment she would remove this nasty stain.” However, all eyewitnesses claim, that as it bobbed up and down in the water, the dress appeared perfectly clean already.
To this day nopony ever dared to press the mare more and so she continues to wash, day after day, noticing neither the arrival nor departure of anypony nearby.
Oh, blessed Sun and Moon, have mercy on them.
Far from the tiny town, hanging proudly on the side of a mountain, stood the palace city of Canterlot. The decadent metropolis was a must-see for any and all ponies of Equestria, for it was not only the most important hub of learning and equine culture, but also the residence of their ruler. The appreciators of exotic flora had one more reason to journey to the capital, that being to visit the castle gardens.
The massive park housed countless plants of all shapes and colors from all over the kingdom, masterfully groomed and trimmed into pleasing shapes. Among the wild variety of flowers, next to numerous other statues of varying age and size, stood the slightly faded, yet still no less life-like statue of a young, tall unicorn colt staring towards the horizon. Its masterfully-crafted stone mane seemed to almost flow in the wind as it framed its confident expression. Its flank, rendered in fine silver and gold, bore the mark of an eight-pointed compass.
Two intricately-carved dates shone in golden numbers on a small black plaque embedded into the base of the statue. One could easily be forgiven for not noticing them, as the plaque itself was hardly visible from the bouquets of flowers piled all around. Though none of them would admit it, some of these were from ponies who had changed their opinion about the owner of the stony visage far too late.
Deep below the statue, away from all the prying eyes and noisy tourists, in one of the numerous safes of the forbidden royal vault, where only precious few were allowed to enter, lay a small crumpled note.
Even if one were to climb the many winding staircases to bring it outside and read it under the warm rays of the Sun instead of the gloomy darkness of the torch-lit vault it would still take serious dedication to decipher the shaky and, at spots tear-soaked, chicken scratches on the page. Those who would be willing to take the time would read the following:
"Dear Diary,
My sister just rushed outside a few hours ago and I’ve been all alone since. The boutique feels very empty without her and I don’t like to be left alone with Opal. I don’t understand. She didn’t even bother to talk to me, she was so focused on one of her dresses. How can she be so self-absorbed? She couldn’t stop talking about how she needed to wash it and it was like she didn’t even hear me. She had been kinda distant for a while, but I don’t understand why. Did I do something wrong? Is it because I still don’t have my Mark? I thought she understood."
Between the note and an arrest order sat an enchanted pouch containing a few strands of pure white and orange hairs and a shard of glass bearing a dark brown blotch. Underneath them another note, written in impeccable letters, spoke of unbridled love and an unforgettable night.
A layer of dust covered the items like a blanket for their years-long undisturbed slumber. Like so many secrets stored here, these trinkets would stay locked away forevermore as silent mementos of tragedies best left forgotten.
Oh, blessed Sun and Moon, have mercy on her.
It was the middle of the night when Glancing Blow violently stirred in his sleep. Like every so often, a recurring nightmare tormented him with the ghostly images of past events.
The vague notions of his officer hovered in his mind, along with the memories of his briefing about a recent crime of extremely unusual circumstances. The old stallion’s voice was anxious and he couldn’t stress hard enough how the Guard received strict instructions to keep a low-profile while investigating.
As his voice faded, the blurry shapes of homes and a small stream melded into existence from the stains of uncertainty. He slowly began trotting alongside the creek. Figures whose faces he couldn’t exactly make out passed him, but he paid them little heed. He marched on with purpose. Though just a figment of his imagination, he felt the same incredulity as on that day. Surely there must have been a mistake somewhere. The reason he was sent here could not have been true.
Crimes like this did not happen in Equestria.
I bet one of those pencil-pushers was simply too bored and made something up, he reasoned. And I wouldn’t want to be in their horseshoes once the jig is up.
The dream shifted and the houses slowly began to lag behind. As he continued walking, the form of a white pony faded into his vision, facing away from him. He involuntarily stopped for a moment. Unlike everything else in the dream, the mare’s features were sharp and defined. Her beauty was enamoring and Glancing felt his heartbeat rise. Still, he was here for a reason, so he shook his head and steeled himself before speaking up.
“Ma’am, I am a member of the Guard, here on behalf of the Princess. Please step away from the water and follow me, I wish to ask you a few questions.”
“One moment, Darling, I simply must remove this stain before it sets,” she replied without moving. The innocence and lack of worry in her voice reassured him even more that the reason he had to come here was nothing but a distasteful joke. That is until he stepped closer and finally saw what she was holding between her hooves.
Glancing Blow sat up in his bed, panting shallow breaths. He ignited his horn, ready to defend himself, but as his eyes madly darted around the room, he realized he was still in his home. A home the Princess personally assigned to him for his service to the Crown. Though as he struggled to calm his racing heart, he found little solace in this honor. After a few moments of panic, he slowly came to his senses and, as quietly as he could, lowered himself back onto the sheets, silently cursing for he expected no more sleep that night.
His wife sleeping next to him woke to the noise and, after realizing what had happened, let out a quiet sigh. Sometimes she wondered what exactly bothered her husband so often, but she did not wish to upset him even more, so instead of pestering him with questions, she reached out and gently rested her hoof on his back.
“Come on, Glance, let’s get back to sleep,” she cooed and pulled him closer, before wrapping a wing around him. As her warmness enveloped him and soothed his mind, the rigidness slowly left his body and he leaned into the hug. Eventually his breathing evened out again and the picture of a red and white dress which hung in front of his eyes in the darkness slowly faded away as well.
He was sure it would return to haunt him some day.
He only hoped that, whenever that day would come, she would be there to comfort him again.
Oh, blessed Sun and Moon, have mercy on them.
“Ah, what awful stench! Whence might this burnt smell come?”
“Pay it no heed, Darling, it is merely the nearby farmstead that burned down a little while ago. Awful tragedy really, especially with how important these Apples are to our humble city. You might remember when I asked if you had any bits to spare for them.”
“Oh yes,” he replied with little conviction. “Now I remember.”
“It was such a shame that you said no. Are you really quite sure you cannot help? It would not cost you much and they are my very close friends.”
“My love, for you I would do anything!” The traces of hurt pride tinted his voice. “But my coffers run low. I have nary a bit to wa- spend on these friends of yours.”
“You poor thing,” she whispered wordlessly to herself, before speaking up. “Well, in that case, let us put the worries to the side and enjoy the night for what it is.”
“I could not agree more, my lady. Tell me, when will we meet this guide of yours?”
“In a few moments, Darling. I’m sure she will be delighted to finally see you.”
The pair made their way deeper into the orchard, where the trees’ dark canopies hid away the stars.
Oh, blessed Sun and Moon, have mercy on him.
Princess Celestia had just let her most studious pupil go for the day. As the lavender unicorn waved her goodbyes, she waved back with a motherly smile, which she kept on her face until she was entirely sure that the young pony was gone.
Only then did the princess of the Sun slump a little bit and did her smile morph into a small frown. It was through no fault of her own, but her student always reminded her of the white mare for some reason.
And to think I almost sent her to that town. The thought sent a shiver down her spine and for a moment her radiant mane dulled in color before regaining its strength once more. I cannot risk to lose someone so close to me again. She sighed. It already happened far too many times.
Celestia knew she had more important things to do than idly daydream and yet she couldn’t send the memory away. Almost mechanically, she trotted to her throne and sat down. There would still be a few more minutes before her audiences began and the silence was gnawing at her mind, so she resigned herself to reliving the events, hoping it might allow her to send that tragic day on its way.
She looked around the empty chamber and her mind placed the figures who were present at the time where they belonged. A handful of trusted guards next to the door, five of her closest advisors sitting in front of her, and of course, her, led into the room by yet another guard.
…
Even before she took notice of her expertly styled mane or pristine white coat, the first thing that caught Celestia’s eyes when the mare was finally allowed inside was her dress. It was evident that she had a clear knack for fashion. She placed one hoof in front of the other with such grace and elegance that the Princess immediately understood why she had caught his eyes.
If only he didn’t feel so self-conscious about dating a ‘commoner,’ she thought. The last word was particularly grating to her. As if she ever cared about the bloodline of anypony! And now she would never have the opportunity to tell him so. To think she had the gall to come here in the same dress. This… This…
She did not allow herself to finish the thought. Though she was only present to observe the trial, she did not want to influence the due process with her reactions. Through sheer will she forced a veil of serenity over her expression and coolly watched the unicorn stop in the middle of the chamber.
“Daughter, you stand here accused of a crime most heinous,” the eldest advisor began in a tone full of pity. “Your own accomplice, an heir of the esteemed Apple family, confessed so. By the time we found her, she was long gone, but the note she left behind named you as the one who conspired for the victim’s wealth and name. For this you shall be locked away for the rest of your days in the deepest pits of Tartarus. How do you plead then?”
The mare didn’t reply immediately. She smoothed out a small crease in her dress and then cast a long look over the ponies sitting in front of her as if she was trying to recollect something.
“Dear judges, there must be some mistake here,” she spoke in an even tone. To the untrained eye, she seemed calm and collected, but Celestia could immediately notice how unfocused the mare’s eyes were when she looked at the judges, and how often she caught glances of her dress. It was like she wasn’t even seeing, except when looking down. “I am in no want for bits, for I have always been graced by good fortune and my boutique has earned me more than I could ever spend. I always gave my surplus away.” Another tug on the clothes. “I only ever wished to spend my beloved’s money on those in need. Where’s my darling anyways?” She fiddled with her spotless dress once more. “Oh my,” she gasped, “please forgive me for coming here in such a mess.”
The judges looked at each other, then back to her, without saying a word.
“Really, I’m quite embarrassed,” she pleaded, her voice slowly turning agitated. A panicked chuckle escaped her lips. She raised her hoof over her snow-white attire as thick drops of tears began to gather in her eyes. “I swear I did not notice until now! I cannot stand here wearing such an ugly stain, it would be most unbecoming of me. Please, kind sirs, have mercy on me! I would die from the shame if that spot remains.” The tears began to flow freely from her eyes as she hopelessly tried to shield herself from the staring eyes. “Please allow me to go home and wash it!”
The chamber fell silent once more, save for the quiet raspy sobbing of the unicorn. The wizened mares and stallions looked at each other. Not a single one opened their mouth to speak. Yet, as they gazed into each others’ eyes again, they found there an understanding and an agreement.
The Princess turned her head away from the sight. Though the realization of what was about to happen snuffed her rage out, she felt no relief.
“Go home then, you sunless mare, and wash your dress,” the solemn voice of the elder echoed across the room. “May Harmony grant you enough strength to do so.”
A gavel struck the judges’ desk again and again.
…
It took several polite knocks to rouse the distracted princess from the depths of her mind. She quickly put on a serious face, little more than a mask she wore whenever she felt emotions she did not want others to worry about, before speaking up.
“Come in!” she called out. “What can I do for you, my little pony?” she addressed the entrant with a serene smile, but as much as she tried to perfect her technique, her eyes were not smiling. She could only hope silently that no one would notice this.
Oh, blessed Sun and Moon, have mercy on her.
Summer turned to Fall. Funerals were held, one of them pompous and extravagant, though moving very few of those who attended. The other solemn, yet radiating familial warmth and belonging. Tears were shed, speeches were spoken, and for a short time not just the tiny town, but the capital itself dressed in grief as well. Fall turned to Winter and, despite everything that had happened, the wheel of time tumbled into a new year. Then it did so again. And again.
As time passed, Ponyville contracted and expanded. Those cozy streets saw new faces arrive and old ones leave, new friendships blossoming, and once the Acres recovered, even the yearly cider fest began anew, bringing joy and inebriation to ponies all over the city. Life was change and the townsponies lived to their fullest.
Yet, far from the bustling center of the town, the wheel itself seemed to have taken a far more polite pace. Near a little creek that ran like it did so many decades ago, a white mare continued to wash. Every day, from dawn to dusk, she dutifully lowered the dress into the water then pulled it out once more, caring little of bitter cold or sweltering heat.
She didn’t notice when the cat, having tired of hopelessly hunting the countless mice that infested the dilapidated boutique, moved to another home.
She was not aware when those tired little eyes, that she somehow never managed to notice peering at her from behind the boutique’s many doors, eventually disappeared. Though it took their owner a long time, she finally gained enough confidence to overcome the guilt she felt from abandoning her and left her behind.
Her own mane losing its luster did not bother her in the slightest, nor did her legs beginning to lose their strength or when her skin began to lose its firmness from the endless ravages of time and the weather.
An old unicorn stood next to the stream, muttering quiet apologies to nopony in particular, not caring that time itself had passed by her. Her aging eyes stared unfocused on an accusing red stain on the tattered remains of a frayed, brownish rag.
She was there yesterday. She would be there tomorrow.
And she washed.
Oh, blessed Sun and Moon, have mercy on us all.