Sweat and Edit
“Er, yes, now then. How about you introduce me to your friends?”
Rarity could hardly believe her ears. Mere moments ago she was ready to sacrifice her lifelong dreams for her friends – an excruciating choice, but she meant every word. Rainbow Dash was probably the only one present who had ever done something similar, but the pegasus' decision hadn't been nearly this hard. After all, even if someone is obsessed with aerial performance teams, an offer coming from three dubious strangers, claiming to be part of a squad one has never heard before, in the middle of a cursed forest, no less, might sound a bit suspicious.
The white mare hardened her shivering legs: thanks to Fancy Pants' timely intervention, her dreams were saved, it appeared. A cool evening breeze wafted through the garden, rustling the twilit grass and the groomed rosebushes around the party, and chilling her throbbing temple. Mixed feelings still swirled in her, making her feel almost dizzy, but one thing was crystal clear: yes, she did want to introduce her friends.
“With pleasure! This is Twilight Sparkle –”
“Hi, everypony!” Looking at the colorful, yet elegant bevy of nobles surrounding her, Twilight assumed her most affable smile.
“She's the prize pupil of Princess Celestia herself," Rarity continued, without diverting her gaze from the aristocrats. "She hails from here, Canterlot, but leads an important magical research in Ponyville on the Princess' behalf. Now, Applejack –”
“Howdy!” Applejack waved her brown hat at the assemblage.
“She's a wealthy landowner, controlling a considerable part of the local fruit trade. Fluttershy... Oh, Fluttershy, where are you?”
“I, um...”
Fluttershy coyly stepped forward from behind Twilight and Applejack. As soon as the audience sighted her, a light grey unicorn colt with a curly white mane, eyes wide and mouth agape, jumped forward from the crowd.
“Cor blimey, you really are Fluttershy!" he jabbered, almost clipping his words. "I've been idolizing you ever since your first fashion show! I mean, my wife's idolizing you, of course. I say, can I have an autograph?”
“I, um...”
“My word, Photo Finish was right! Even her perplexity is graceful!”
“I, um...”
“Oh, you simply must come with me and help choose a –”
Fancy Pants cleared his throat. Fluttershy's admirer subsided into silence in an instant.
“Do you mind, old chap? Miss Rarity here was just about to introduce the rest of her lovely company to us.”
The gray unicorn muttered a few slurred apologies in the crossfire of disapproving stares, and retreated back to the herd. Fluttershy smiled humbly at him, trying to cheer him up, but the effort was futile; after the mild admonition from Fancy Pants, her devotee was too busy hanging his head in shame and diffidence to notice her gesture. Rarity, on the other hoof, showed unbroken cheer.
“I see, some of you still remember her as a lionized model in favour of Photo Finish. Now Pinkie Pie here –”
“Hi there!” Pinkie, wearing a smile so wide it defied most known laws of anatomy, started to wave frantically.
“– might not be such a celebrity, but she's a... social organizer extraordinaire, I assure you. And last, but not least, this is Rainbow Dash! She is... oh, Celestia, she is –”
All too late, Rarity realized the mistake she'd made, but before she could've done anything about it, Rainbow proudly puffed out her chest.
“Well I am the winner of the Best Young Flyer competition, an event which was witnessed by the Princess herself, thank you, Rarity!”
Fancy Pants turned his gaze from the still-waving Pinkie to the cyan pegasus. “Pardon me, Miss,” he inquired, arching his eyebrows and levitating his monocle closer, “but are you not the Wonderbolts' trainer? Our friend, Miss Rarity, informed us so!”
“Wha'? No, I've always wanted to join them, but so far I couldn’t... I mean, I guess I’ll leave it for next year. But I did get to spend a whole day with them, when I won the competition!”
A sudden silence spreading upon the guests informed Rarity that the Canterlot elite was not impressed – even Pinkie felt something was amiss, and put down her hooves. The aristocrats present began to murmur between each other; silently at first, then more and more offensively. Sensing the general discontent, Rarity made a hopeless attempt to save face, but all she could do was nervously trying to change the meaning of her past lie – in other words, sweat and edit.
“Oh, haha, I'm hardly an expert in pegasus racing..." Her eyes darting left to right, she attempted to assume a winsome smile, but if the nobles' glares were anything to judge by, she failed spectacularly. "I must have confused the contest's winner with the trainer. How silly of me –”
“Sure enough!” Upper Crust interrupted in an openly scornful tone. “And on a completely unrelated note, let me just remark that there are few deeds more pitiful than posing in the lights of nonexistent celebrities!”
Hearing her voice, the other guests joined.
“This is downright outrageous –”
“It's the greatest scandal since Princess Luna was found in the –”
“Remember me? I've always told you this Rarity is –”
No! This couldn't be! After all she's been through, would her dreams still collapse?! In disbelief, Rarity slowly started to back off, desperately looking for a kind face, but there were none, apart from her friends'. Except...
“Well, I do get confused about those pegasi all the time, if I say so myself!”
It didn't take three seconds for Fancy Pants to completely reverse the atmosphere.
“Now, I meant ‘outrageous’ in the best possible sense of the word –”
“Crikey, did I say ‘scandal’, what? I meant ‘delight’, of course! I often mix up these two words, you know me, eh, old chaps?”
“I was the first one who mistook a pegasus for another, righty-oh!”
As Rarity stood dumbfounded, nonetheless happy before the total volte-face of the guests, Fancy Pants broke into a modest smile. It was a good show, but a new target had already entered his mind. This “Twilight Sparkle” seemed clueless enough, and it was obvious the so-called "elite" of the city would blindly follow him.
“My word, Miss Sparkle, I must say your moves are just as breathtaking as your ensemble!" He stepped closer, and slightly tilted his head. "I would not be surprised if it proved to be the pièce de résistance at the Grand Galloping Gala this year, if you wouldn't mind instructing the enquirers...”
As always, his words achieved the desired effect. He couldn't even finish his sentence, as the surprised Twilight already found herself surrounded by a flock of nobles begging her to teach them, swearing hers was the most compelling performance they've ever seen. Fancy Pants was quite pleased: the Grand Galloping Gala last year was rather unconventional, but if this year's attendants would be wearing Twilight's dress, dancing her... whatever it was, the entertainment was already set.
Meanwhile, Fleur de Lis, who had been mingling with the crowd until this point, hopelessly searching for her husband, finally spotted her target. Not that finding him should have been very difficult: Fancy Pants, being almost invariably in the limelight of every meeting, was usually found in the center of every party. Simple as it may have been, it took Fleur quite a long time to recognize this pattern.
"Pardon me... Excusez-moi..." The regal-looking alabaster mare gracefully glided through the crowd, giving apologizing smiles and hoof-waves right and left, until she reached her husband. "Fancy, dear, would you mind showing me where the hors d'oeuvres are? I'm sure they're delicious...”
“But of course! Fillies and gentlecolts, if you’ll excuse me...”
With a nod, Fancy Pants left the guests, guiding Fleur to the other side of the garden. He was fully aware his wife knew exactly where the food is; this was just an excuse for a tête-à-tête. As everypony was engaged with the six friends, the couple was able to have a private talk. Fleur looked around, cleared her throat, and opened her mouth – only to close it again. Doubting her husband went against everything she believed. She nervously pawed the ground, but promptly stopped as soon as she realized it might have ruined her recherché pony pedi. Fleur wasn't an overly jealous wife; her husband could always get away with gallant compliments to other ladies, but still, she wasn't stupid either (at least, not for a Canterlot mare). The overly unconcerned tone she used, however, prepared her husband what would follow. Every married stallion in Equestria knew that a spouse's far-fetched imitation of a casual tone was an ill omen.
“That Rarity sure is pretty, isn't she?”
Rarity looked stunningly beautiful in her elegant dress.
“I say, you are joking, aren't you? With your fairness to outshine her, she almost seems... please, do let me end this sentence here. It would be ungentlecolty to say something derogatory of a lady.”
“Well, at least she's rather clever!”
Rarity's charming wit was refreshing after the drudging dumbness of the nobility.
“Forgive me, dearest, but I do have to disagree with you. There is nothing clever in her half-hearted attempts at flattery.”
“Maybe she's not smart or beautiful, but at any rate, she certainly is familiar with the predominant taste!”
Fancy Pants wasn't a mode enthusiast himself, but he knew a thing or two about style. He was perfectly aware of how sharp-eyed and delicate Rarity was in everything concerning fashion – not only dresses, but arts as well.
“I'm afraid I'm not exactly sure what are you trying to tell me. While she certainly has a few good, or should I say, lucky picks, she obviously lacks a broad and comprehensive knowledge to back it up.”
Fleur felt a bit more reassured, yet there was one thing she couldn't understand. Well, there were a great many things she couldn't understand, but this one bothered her right here and now.
“Then why are you constantly saving her?”
Fancy Pants raised one of his eyebrows by approximately two-sevenths of an inch. “I beg your pardon?” he asked with well-disguised surprise, adjusting his monocle.
“You had forgiven her when she bumped into us, that's all right. But then you had invited her to the derby as your personal guest! Lavender told me you’d held Rarity in very high regards during the race, even when she’d contradicted you. And now you're praising anything she does, regardless if she's behaving ridiculously! Can't you see: wearing cake frosting?!" She shook her head – carefully, of course: she didn't want to ruin her exquisitely styled coiffure. "It's... it's just wrong!”
Despite the malicious gossip, Fleur's marriage wasn’t one of convenience. She and Fancy Pants loved each other – perhaps their love wasn't a blazing bonfire, but there was definitely more to it than money and influence. Although the fact Fleur was admittedly the most beautiful amongst the Canterlot elite (apart from the princesses, as it goes without saying) and her husband was one of the most prominent characters in the political arena of Equestria probably helped, too. Now under other circumstances Fancy Pants would've been proud of his spouse forming an opinion almost entirely on her own (an impressive feat for an aristocrat), but this required immediate intervention.
“I do like cake frosting. You like cake frosting, don't you?”
“It's scandalous! Just how does she –”
“Do you like cake frosting?”
“Atrocious, that's what –”
“Do you like cake frosting?”
“What were she –”
“Do you like –”
“YES! I like cake frosting, but that's not the –”
“So you are a, mmm, lady, who likes, mmm, cake frosting?”
Fleur let out a tired sigh and hung her head, confused. She just couldn't comprehend why her husband, who was one of the most witty, mature, and admired pony in the nobility, acted so weird and childish sometimes. It occurred not to her that his was a perfect way to counter tirades like this: after all, you could hardly argue against something that doesn't make any sense in the first place, or relevant only on the surface. (Assuming, of course, that you aren't bright enough to recognize this fact. The Canterlot high society certainly wasn't). Now some might have called this sophistry, but he preferred the term "innovative reasoning". He didn't always use logical fallacies, but when he did, he used them with indubitable success.
Fancy, seeing he won the battle, decided to reveal the reason why he supported Rarity – well, one of his reasons, anyway. After all, even though her opposition was wrong, Fleur's insight was a pleasant surprise: perhaps she was about to outpace the rest of the haut monde for good, in terms of mental capability. Not averting his gaze from his wife, he turned to the direction of the the six friends, and discreetly raised his hoof to point at Rarity.
“Look at her, Fleur! What do you see?”
“Her hat! It's gorgeous!" A moony haze started to mist over her eyes; her husband knew too well what would happen next. "Oh, Fancy, will you buy me a new hat?”
“Of course, dear, but I wasn't talking about her hat. What's beneath it?”
“Her mane! It's curly!”
“Excellent, darling, it really is curly. But think about something of different nature –”
“Her coat! She has a white coat.”
Fancy Pants sighed. Maybe he was too optimistic.
“Yes, though I didn't mean any of her body parts. Glance behind the exterior!”
Fleur blinked helplessly for a few moments. She stared at Rarity silently; her husband thought he could hear the gears whirling in her brain, but then realized it was just his pocket watch ticking. It took barely ten or twelve seconds for Fleur to come up with an answer: “Her flesh...? Fancy, must you be so coarse?”
A true gentlecolt never gives up the fight, but Fancy Pants felt he needed a strategical retreat.
“Close, but that's not what I wanted to say either. No, just look at her: she's a pony with opinions! She held to her principles, even when the others turned against her. Do you know how smashingly rare it is in Canterlot nowadays? We simply need her.”
“That's not true!" Fleur frowned, until she remembered it didn't look pretty on her lovely face. "I've got opinions too!”
“Dearest, not to disapp... well, righty-oh. Let's see, speaking of her, what do you think of Miss Rarity?”
“What do you want me to think?”
“Fleur, the critical part of an opinion is to be original.”
“Okay, then... I think... She is like a raw diamond. She may not seem amazing, but if we cut her carefully, she could become one of the most brilliant gems in Equestria's crown! Only after me, of course.”
“You see, this would be excellent –”
“Told you so!”
“– if it weren't a quote from me. I said these exact words to you not half an hour before the garden party. Look, your opinion has to be original –”
“But it's original! It's originally from you!”
This was it. Fancy Pants decided to adjourn his explanation on principles and opinions sine die. His wife was smarter than most of the Canterlot elite, but this merely meant she could comprehend things more complicated than the rules of bridge, which was the limit of the average noble's understanding. Not wanting to offend Fleur, he stifled a sigh and changed the topic, asking her to find Rarity, as he had something to tell his newfound protégée.
Fancy Pants sank into his thoughts as his wife trotted away – what he told her was true, but there were still a few more reasons why he decided to favour the pony everypony should know. First of all, the six friends have already produced some quality entertainment, particularly Twilight and Rarity herself. And although Fancy himself didn't disdain simple ponies, he realized that farmer (what was her name again? Applejack?) had some serious potential, as she was completely out of her element. A few more social gatherings, and maybe he would be able to convince the aristocracy that the proper pronunciation is "Ah", not "I". Or how about bringing her dreadful hat into fashion? The possibilities were endless. But the most promising amongst them was, without doubt, the pink one. Heavy artillery placing party-paraphernalia? Was such a thing even possible? To be honest, that particular pony didn't seem entirely sane, but she probably wasn't dangerously mad. Perhaps. Hopefully.
Furthermore, Fancy Pants had yet another reason to favour Rarity. Despite his claims, he did notice her sharp wit, fine sense of taste – and he'd be lying if he denied the fact the well-groomed, swish unicorn mare's beauty affected him. Now some of the other nobles might have considered to have a gallant adventure with the newcomer, who was still captivated by the glitter of the haut monde, but the thought of cheating on Fleur did not even occur to Fancy Pants (what can we say, he was just so trustworty). Helping Rarity without recompense, however, was something that even the most honourable and chivalrous stallions could do in his horseshoes – in fact, it was even desired by the unwritten laws of gentlecoltness, and Fancy Pants was definitely a gentlecolt. He may have used the Canterlot elite's own spineless and sycophantic nature to his own amusement, but did this subtly and without offending anyone; what's more, he rewarded individuality, as in Rarity's case. His manner was always elegant and polite, no matter how important or insignificant his audience was. Indeed, class was not something this pony pretended, but he was class itself! Though as appropriate as it would be to further praise this admirable stallion, it’s time to return to our story, lest we miss the approach of Fleur and Rarity.
“Fancy Pants! You wanted to see me?”
Rarity gave a radiant smile to her patron, hiding the fact Fleur de Lis' behavior made her feel a bit uncomfortable. Fancy's wife remained silent during the entire conversation, but as soon as she arrived, she started to nuzzle her husband. Her whole attitude just screamed "He's mine! I got him first! Did I mention I'm his wife?", and even though Rarity wasn't planning anything interfering with this, it was still a bit embarrassing. Fancy Pants, not wanting to abash his spouse, cleared his throat and answered, ignoring Fleur.
“Quite right, Rarity. I understand you wish to introduce yourself to the Canterlot fashion business, what? Unfortunately, Canterlot mode is frightfully crowded, and I'm afraid I can't help you –“ The aspirant designer hung her head, but Fancy Pants apparently wasn't done talking. Removing Fleur's hooves from around his neck (his wife somehow managed to embrace him while still nuzzling), he continued with a smile. “– but I contacted a friend of mine. I assure you, he possesses the highest influence, and if anypony, he could assist you, yes? Thank you, Fleur, darling, but my mane is proper clean. No need to brush it. Now, I took the liberty of arranging an appointment with him in your name tomorrow evening at the White Clover Restaurant, at seven o'clock, though you don't have to hurry. He's usually... fashionably late. Don't worry about recognizing him, I'll be there too. No, no, don't even mention it: it was really the least I could do. Remember: White Clover Restaurant, at seven o'clock...”
***
It wasn't even half past six when Rarity arrived to Canterlot's most elegant restaurant. She wanted to play it safe: being late for such an important meeting could have demolished her chances of success, and she simply couldn't allow this. The unicorn wore a rosy dress, similar to the one she had at the Grand Galloping Gala last year, but in a lighter shade, and with white, instead of yellow – needless to say, it was created by her from scratch. Her hat was the same pink one she wore at the Wonderbolts derby, as it fit the attire perfectly, though in order to avoid appearing boring and unimaginative (which could be fatal for a fashion designer), she encrusted both the hat and the dress with pale blue sapphires. It wasn't easy to prepare everything in time, especially as this morning she had to deliver her friendship report to the Princess and move all her equipment to a suitable workshop as well, but when so much was at stake, Rarity was not one to hesitate – she just hoped the generous tip she'd given the poor porter had compensated him for the troubles. Aside from her dress and her hat, she wore a fine golden necklace, and a few, also gold-coloured, barely visible thin strands embedded in her mane and tail: there were times in her life when she needed to look marvelous, and then other times, when she needed to look marvelous. This evening was definitely the latter case. Now, considering how early she arrived, it would be highly unlikely to expect Fancy Pants –
“Rarity! My word, you look smashing! This being you, however, I naturally assumed no less. Now, shall we enter? After you!”
“Thank you!” The two ponies stepped into the restaurant, filled with aristocrats who could afford themselves to dine in such a deluxe place. The ample room, the exotic plants placed aesthetically in the corners, the black-and-white-tiled floor built of true marble and, as she noticed, the tableware made out of pure silver beamed with grandiosity. Fascinating as the restaurant was, all eyes focused on the newcomers, and, indicating her success, most of the stallions were inspecting Rarity, rather than her famous partner! It was one of the exceptional occasions when he couldn't engross everypony's attention; truly a rarity. “Fancy Pants, how come you're already here? It's a bit early, isn't it? Not that I'm complaining about the pleasant company, of course!”
After she floated her hat to one of the coat racks, Rarity's chair glowed in a yellow light, as her patron pulled it out for her, then gently levitated it back into place once she got seated. This act gave him enough time to come up with an answer, as the real reason (namely: "I saw that yesterday you were excited as a little filly, so I knew you'd be here early") may not have been so polite.
“Why, I was on my way to the club, when I noticed your magnificent appearance in front of the restaurant, what? Proper –”
“Madame, Sir, have you made your decision?” interrupted the arriving unicorn waiter. "May I recommend ze caviar? It's ze most fresh –”
“Thank you, but we are still waiting for a guest, so we just might delay the appetizer. Now the aperitif, on the other hoof..." Fancy Pants glanced at his companion. "Rarity, what would you like?”
Rarity briefly wondered whether wearing a pencil-thin moustache and speaking with the same accent was a job requirement for waiters in Equestria, then glimpsed at the menu – and almost fainted. She wasn't a poor pony –in fact, she was rather well-to-do by Ponyville standards– but for the cost of just one drink here she could eat for a day (or Fluttershy could eat for three days) in their hometown. Fortunately, her natural white coat and her make-up hid her sudden pallor. “Actually, I'm not really thirsty... Should we just skip the aperitif?”
Fancy Pants suspected what was taking place in Rarity's head, so he remarked in a deliberately discreet tone without looking at her, to prevent her embarrassment. “The evening is, of course, on me. How do orange spirits sound? Two orange spirits, please!”
“Cehtainly, Sir. Right away.”
The waiter nodded, ignoring the fact that everypony within earshot started to beckon to him: "Waiter! Orange spirits here, too!" "Here as well, please!" "I also want orange spirits!". Yes, Fancy Pants' impact was a prominent one.
“As a matter of fact,“ Rarity interrupted, heartened, “I do think orange spirits are a bit heavy for aperitif, aren't they? How about... daisy drink?”
“Ah, a most tasteful choice, if I say so myself! Waiter, we'll have two daisy drinks instead.”
“Yes, Sir. At onse, Sir.”
The waiter trotted away (once again, in the background: "Storno the orange spirits! Daisy drink, please!" "Yes, what he said!" "I, too, want daisy drink!"). Now that the order was finally settled, Rarity could at last come to the point.
“So, what exactly should I do to win the countenance of this nexus of yours?" Rarity sat back and took a deep breath. "Please, forgive my bluntness, but it's something I really must know.”
“Well, excuse me for bringing up the dirty topic of money at the dinner table, but in the worst case, you'll have to pay him a small percentage of your income. I, however, do trust I will be able to persuade him this won't be necessary, as the forthcoming rise of his renown will be more than enough reason for the investment. This, of course, means you'll have to attend all of his social meetings, but since he only allows the utter best of the haut monde to visit them, it is a privilege, rather than a duress. All you have to do is to throw in a few pleasantries, and I take care of the rest, what?”
“I do think I can manage that,” Rarity smiled. “I'm eager to meet him...”
“I'm sure of it, but there is still something I have to tell you: be careful, he's a most... sensitive pony, if you will.”
“Sensitive? What do you mean?”
Fancy Pants flicked a nonexistent mote of dust off of his sleeve.
“You see, he's a jolly good fellow, but he can be quite... beastly with ponies whose... lineage isn't... hmm, widely known. Since I am the one who'll introduce you, however, I'm sure his manners will be immaculate: I'm one of the few ponies who're on right amicable terms with him. But enough of this: you'll see him soon enough. So, I hear there will be a rather proper ball tomorrow at the...”
***
Five past seven. Time passed rapidly, as Fancy Pants was a seemingly endless thesaurus of anecdotes and amusing reminiscences (limericks too, but they weren't for the ears of ladies).
"Needless to say, the Princess never ordered mesclun again!" Fancy Pants smiled jovially at Rarity, who failed to stifle a giggle. "Now, if you'll excuse me..." Finishing the last story, he pushed his chair back, apparently departing.
“Wait, Fancy Pants! Where are you going? You can't leave now!” Rarity suddenly realized what time it was, her face showing her feelings so clearly her patron couldn't feign overlooking them.
“I need to visit the restroom. But I wouldn't worry, I don't think our friend would arrive just yet. So, my apologies, but I’ll be back in a moment...”
“I hope he's right...” Rarity stared after her disappearing companion. “Oh, come on, this is just ridiculous!“ She gave an annoyed sigh, seeing as every chair creek in unison, as their owners stood up and began to head for the little fillies' room. “Can't they figure out their own metabolism without Fancy Pants?!”
***
A quarter past eight. The atmosphere at Rarity's table was similar to a funeral, where the deceased was not only beloved, but also owed a considerable amount of money to the grieving guests, who now realized they couldn't get it anymore. Several empty glasses were aligned before both Fancy Pants and Rarity, as they ordered drinks again and again just to kill time. The once-excited, now resigned designer's witty and entertaining manners decayed into empty nodding; even her mane drooped from disappointment. She wasn't listening to Fancy Pants anymore: it was obvious this so-called friend of his changed his mind, and wouldn't come. With a hopeless sigh, she raised her eyes and interrupted whatever witticism her partner was yarning – she simply wasn't in the mood to chat about nothingnesses, not after this evening.
“Thank you very much for the dinner, Fancy Pants. You've been a generous host, but I think it's pointless to wait any –”
“Rarity! Please, do bear with me for a little longer! I daresay he could arrive any moment now! I assure you, it's not unusual for him to delay a bit... a lot. I know him.”
“Well, I don't know him!” Rarity burst out, her patience finally exhausted. “Just who does he think he is, keeping us waiting like this?!”
“I doubt you've met him: as I said, he only attends to the most illustrious events –”
“I've visited a lot of exclusive gatherings lately! It's entirely possible I have met him!”
“Come to think of, I have indeed seen him near you on one occasion..." Fancy Pants tapped his chin. "I wouldn't think you've talked with each other, but righty-oh, let's see if you remember him: he's a white stallion, with the most... but crikey, there he is!" He raised a hoof to wave at an arriving figure. "Here, here! What ho, old chap! Miss Rarity, let me introduce you to His Royal Highness Prince Blueblood...”
“I'm charmed, milady... Ah, please, forgive me, but you do seem so familiar: have we, perchance, already been acquainted...?”
Yes. Yes, they had.
***
Two days later, a rather snappy Rarity was working alone in her Ponyville boutique. In fact, her labour served no purpose but to keep her busy, as she decided to keep the shop closed today. She wanted to be alone, nursing her pique, but it seemed the ever so cruel fate denied her even this small comfort – three knocks at the boutique's door meant she had a visitor. Truly, destiny is a ruthless mistress, mused Rarity bitterly, as so many before her. Giving an exasperated, harassed and certainly undeserved look to her poor sewing machine and the dumb fabric she used, she yelled at the door.
“I'm sorry, we're closed! Come back Monday, please! Or is that you, Sweetie Belle?”
“No, it's me, Twilight!“ Said pony popped her head in. “What's the matter, Rarity? You sound upset. Is there anything I could do for you?”
The clacking of the machine ceased. “Oh, Twilight! Please, forgive me my discourtesy. I was just... but where are my manners? Do come in! Can I get you something to eat?” She sighed, still a bit gloomy. “I suppose I owe you an apology. I'm genuinely sorry I lied to you. You were always a good friend... I should have told you everything. I don't know what I was thinking.”
“It's all right, Rarity.” Twilight trotted aside the cheerless pony, giving a heartening smile and thus succeeding in comforting her slightly. “Everypony makes mistakes sometimes. It's a shame you’ve eventually left the high society, though.”
“Bah, don't even mention it.” Rarity turned up her nose. “ They simply do not deserve me! It was worth it, I say.”
“On the bright side, the Princess told me in private she would hush up the incident, and I doubt the Prince is proud of what happened, so you don't have to fear him divulging it either. Still, I think –”
“Hush up? Hush up?!” She raised her eyebrows skeptically. “Twilight, the restaurant was full of ponies watching –”
“Well, Fancy Pants said he would convince the witnesses nothing noteworthy happened. He sounded... confident in his abilities.”
“Thank Celestia!” Rarity sighed, her worries somewhat eased. “I couldn't survive if the pegasus guard threw me in the dungeon and every last one of my fabulous dresses remained here all alone! Oh, and Sweetie Belle too.”
“I'm glad you won't get into trouble, but don't you think you were a bit too harsh on Blueblood?”
“It was worth it.”
“He's a prince." Twilight pointed a hoof at Rarity accusingly. "You're awfully lucky the Princess forgave you, you know that?”
“It was worth it.”
“Rarity!”
“Everything I told him was technically true!”
“I'm not talking about what you said, I'm talking about what you did!”
“It was worth it!”
“The official cover-up story claims he fell off the stairs!”
Rarity flippantly waved a hoof. “Look, I didn't want to hurt him. I just wanted to express my ladylike contempt for his ungentlecontly nature.”
“You didn't want to hurt him, but you expressed your ‘ladylike contempt’ by slapping him in the face?! You were the one who outsmarted the diamond dogs instead of engaging in brutish conflict!”
“Darling, are you trying to say I should have attempted outwhining Prince Blueblood himself?!”
“Point taken..." She pondered for a moment. "Still, it was noble of him not to fight back, wasn't it?”
Rarity huffed. “He didn't fight back because he ran away screaming!”
“Er, there is nothing, um, unchivalrous in screaming... If you consider it an, uh, battle cry –”
“He ran away screaming and sobbing!”
Twilight cleared her throat. “Anyway, you may feel relieved. Celestia told me he didn't suffer any permanent injuries –”
“Oh, I was so worried about the Prince's well-being!”
“– though he got a nasty black eye, shaped like your hoof!” she continued, as if she didn't notice Rarity rolling her eyes, and ignoring the sarcasm in her voice. Twilight suddenly fell silent, a new cognition occurring to her. “Wait, you do realize this means one of your dreams did come true?!”
“Really? Which one?”
“Well, you DID make your mark on high society!”
THE END
Author’s notes:
Special thanks to my proofreaders, McNeil, John Perry and Zay-el!
Also, thanks to you personally for deeming my fic worthy of your time! I hope you aren’t disappointed – but if you are, feel free to let me know what parts need polishing!
Best regards: the author
