Fifteen Dinners

by Quill Scratch

Rating: teen
Tags: Tragedy, Twilight Sparkle, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance, Rainbow Dash, Scootaloo
Length: 65692

Rainbow Dash's life is perfect. The Wonderbolts want to hang out with her, her relationship with Twilight has somehow lasted seven months, and she's even dropped her cider addiction! But if life is so perfect, why does it still hurt?

“A toast,” Spitfire said, once the noise had quietened and everypony was still, “to Rainbow Dash, for holding the most records anypony in Academy history has held. It’s no mean feat, and I’m sure we’ll be seeing her continue to push herself well beyond our expectations in the future.” There was a murmur of agreement that passed around the table, and Rainbow felt her wings twitch again. Before anypony could begin to raise their glass to their lips, Spitfire continued, “And to Soarin, who seems at last to have gained at least some level of emotional maturity in the past week.”

Rainbow Dash's life is perfect: the Wonderbolts are so pleased with her performance at the academy that they've invited her out to dinner, and she's finally getting to spend time with her idols; she's finally managed to hold down a relationship for more than a few weeks at a time, and her marefriend, Twilight, has been more supportive of her than she could have ever asked for; and she's even gotten over her cider addiction, which turned out to be a much more pleasant change than she expected.

So why does it still hurt?

Written and edited over the course of 30 days for the National Novel Writing Month challenge, Fifteen Dinners tells the story of Rainbow Dash's struggle to maintain the illusion of happiness when the one pony that matters most has grown to hate her.

For David and JD
(who hate ponies, but keep supporting me anyway)
For Vocal Score
(whose music kept me going through this crazy month)
And, as always, for Robbie
(who somehow puts up with my writing, even for fandoms he knows nothing about)

Published 2014-12-01 02:50:10 UTC
Last updated 2014-12-01 02:50:10 UTC

Chapter 2: Hay Fries and Ice Cream

The new Daring Do book had arrived a whole week ago and, like every night since, Rainbow Dash was curled up on the library floor, absorbed in the book. It had been a long week—each day at work, on a week that would have been trying enough anyway, dragged all the more because Rainbow knew that she had to wait until the day ended before she could return to the story she loved. Most of her days were spent daydreaming, which had the unfortunate side-effect of making the work take longer.

It was only when she got back to the library that Rainbow could truly relax. After the first two nights, Twilight had ensured that there was a blanket and a pillow set up for her, and that she had some cushions to lie on. It was a kind thought and was very much appreciated.

That night, Rainbow had flown straight through the open door and landed in the pile of cushions. It was almost elegant, her landing—the way she practically glided onto the soft pile, picking up the corners of the blanket with her forehooves and throwing it around her shoulders as she came to rest. Spike caught her attention and rolled his eyes at her, returning her death glare with a sheepish look and a copy of the book, bookmark still in place. Thanking him with a sharp, brief nod, Rainbow tore through the pages hungrily until she reached her place, flicked the bookmark out of her way, and settled down onto the cushions for an evening of reading.

Around her, she could hear Spike dusting and cleaning and reshelving books, keeping the library in the cleanly state that the ponies of Ponyville were used to seeing. She could hear Owlowiscious hooting contentedly in the next room and the roar of the wind outside.

As she read, absorbed in the world of Daring Do, Rainbow Dash couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was missing.

It was something important, she knew. Just like Daring had failed to notice the pressure plate and was now watching the doors fall down with a dull thud (Spike had dropped a book again), so too was Rainbow sure she had missed something that should have been obvious. Something was wrong.

Rainbow leaned her head towards Twilight, hoping to give her marefriend an affectionate nuzzle. Twilight was certainly fond of affection, especially whilst she was relaxing, and if Rainbow was truly honest with herself she did, too. It was hard to admit it, what with her reputation and public image, but when she was alone with Twilight (and when Spike was around they were certainly alone enough to nuzzle, if only because Spike would soon leave, muttering something along the lines of ‘get a room’) she could allow herself to do things that she would otherwise be afraid to. Twilight had always been like that for her—it was one of the reasons she’d fallen for the egghead, after all.

Twilight’s head was not where Twilight’s head should be.

Rainbow leaned further, her head now well into the space that Twilight would usually occupy in their nightly reading sessions. Confused, Rainbow moved slightly, trying to find her marefriend with her head as she swung her neck slowly in wide circles. Eventually, somewhat disgruntled that she had to take a break from her book, Rainbow turned her head to look for Twilight, only to find that the librarian was nowhere to be seen.

“Spike,” she called out uncertainly. “Where’s Twilight?”

“Oh, Twi was spending the day in Canterlot,” Spike replied. “The Princess needed her for something. She should be back… well, by now, I guess.” Spike looked at the clock, a frown on his face. “She’s not usually late like this.”

Rainbow tried to turn back to her reading, but something didn’t feel right. It was almost as if reading without Twilight there would be wrong, that because it was an activity they always shared she would be betraying their relationship if she were to carry on. She knew it sounded silly, but she also couldn’t quite bring herself to let go of the idea.

Eventually, Rainbow grew tired of waiting and stood up. Stretching her limbs, she turned to Spike to see the young drake still working hard tidying the shelves of the library.

“Hey, Spike,” she asked. “I’m going to fix myself a daisy sandwich. D’ya want something to eat?” Spike looked up, his expression thoughtful.

“I think there are some hay fries in the fridge,” he replied. “Would you mind warming them through? There should be enough for both of us.”

Nodding, Rainbow made her way into the kitchen, shivering as the chilled air from the fridge wafted over her. Reaching in, she grabbed the packet of hay fries—it wasn’t hard to spot, since Twilight only seemed to have the barest of necessities in her kitchen—and closed the door in a rush. She’d had enough cold that day to last her a lifetime.

While the hay fries warmed in the oven, Rainbow sat down and simply watched through the oven door. The interior glowed with golden light, the fries lying still on their little metal tray. Nothing was burning yet. The room around her was filled with the whir of fans, the hum of the oven and the ticking of the little white timer that sat on the desk, and sitting this close to the door she found she was almost uncomfortably warm.

She couldn’t feel Twilight’s forelegs around her neck; she couldn’t feel her marefriend’s mane and coat pressed softly against her. She pressed her wings down against her sides, just gently, and waited.

Some time later (and time must have passed, though Rainbow was not entirely sure she noticed its passing) the ticking sound stopped and a thunderous chime filled the room. Springing up, Rainbow pulled open the oven, wincing at the blast of heat that slammed into her face and caused her coat to be drenched almost instantly in sweat, and reached in to grab the tray, only stopping herself a fraction of a second before she burnt her muzzle on the searing hot metal. Armed now with the softest oven gloves (Twilight’s hooves had been in them, she thought, so it was almost as if Twilight were holding hers), Rainbow pulled out the tray of fries and carefully poured them into two small bowls.

Dinner ready, she poked her head out into the library proper and smiled at Spike, who was still cleaning.

“You wanted hay fries?” Spike almost dropped the duster he was holding in surprise and excitement. Rainbow grinned at him. “Come on, they’re on the table.”

She was sitting herself down just as Spike got into the kitchen; seeing he was watching her, she very deliberately took her first fry and ate it, maintaining eye contact throughout, with a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Spike rolled his eyes again at her antics and pulled himself onto the chair, taking one of his own.

The fans were still whirring somewhere in the background. The oven might not have been humming, but there were plenty of other noises in that kitchen—the clock, ticking by slowly but steadily, and the fridge which could almost be heard gurgling. And, of course, the sound of chewing and swallowing, belching and crunching, crackling fire and…

The jet of green flame spread nearly as far as Rainbow’s nose, the two were sitting so close together. Spike caught the scroll in his hand and glanced briefly at the stamped seal.

“Hey, it’s from Twi!” he said, surprised. He pulled open the scroll quickly. “It’s for the two of us,” he added. “Do you want to hear it?”

Rainbow nodded, frowning. How did Twilight know she would be here?

“Dear Spike,” Spike began,

and Rainbow Dash too, I suppose. Chances are you’ve probably shown up to read some more Daring Do tonight.

I’m sorry I’m not back yet—Princess Celestia has required me for some really urgent business, and though I thought it would only take a few hours it looks like I’m probably going to have to stay here till the morning. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine (though probably very busy!)

Love you both,

Twilight

“And she says to give you this,” Spike added, handing Rainbow a small, folded note. “She said I wasn’t allowed to read that bit.”

Rainbow took the folded sheet of paper, turning it this way and that before gently pressing against the edges of the note. The paper was lightly springy, and she could feel the paper bulge and curve beneath her hooves, the way it was folded restricting its motion. And even though the book she had held in her hooves earlier was borrowed from a library, an act which Twilight had assured her meant a sacred vow to return free of damage, Rainbow couldn’t quite help but feel that she should be more careful with this note than she had been with the book.

Shaking her head almost imperceptibly (or so she hoped), Rainbow put her thoughts to one side and opened up the note as carefully as she could. She was almost disappointed to see that there was barely more than a sentence on the page, but when she read the words she could almost feel that the pressure on her sides really was Twilight holding her.

Even though I’ve only been gone a day and will be back in the morning, I already miss you more than I ever thought I could. I wish you were here.

Rainbow smiled, folded the paper up carefully and set it down on the table again. Spike was looking at her curiously.

“Twi’s just being sappy, Spike,” she said. “You know how she can get.”

Spike looked doubtful, but resumed eating his fries regardless. Rainbow picked up a hoofful and stuffed them in her mouth, hoping to satiate the growling void in her stomach.

“Hey, Rainbow?” It had been a few minutes since either of them had spoken. Spike was sitting forward in his chair, despite his bowl being empty, and looked slightly nervous. Rainbow frowned. “You and Twi are happy together, right?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow replied simply. “Why d’ya ask?”

“What’s that like?”

Spike’s voice was quiet and distant and soft, and Rainbow was not quite sure she had heard him—but when she looked at him and saw the barely-masked pain in his eyes, she knew he had spoken. She took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts and work out what she really ought to say.

“It’s… it’s like having a best friend,” Rainbow said, at last. “It’s funny, really, ‘cos it reminds me a lot of how I used to spend so much time with Gilda when we were younger. In both cases you’re sure that the other will always be there for you, you know? You just know that if you’re ever in trouble, if you ever need someone to talk to or to help you, that they’re the one you can just turn to and they’ll be there.

“But with Twi it’s even better, because I don’t have to pretend to be somepony else. All my life, every day I’ve had to pretend to be the pony everypony expects me to be, the daredevil and the hero and the one who knows what she’s doing. And I like that—I like ponies thinking I’m awesome, because that’s what makes somepony awesome in the first place.

“It’s just, I can’t be that confident all the time. Sometimes I need to let my guard down and Twilight is the only pony I could ever do that around—and maybe you and Scoots, I guess, but with you guys I’m trying to be a good role model.” She chuckled at that, a hollow laugh, and Spike snorted once, not quite smiling. “Twilight allows me to be me, though. She allows me to be the pony I’ve only ever let myself see, and in turn she lets me see parts of her I’m sure she’s never shared with anypony else, either. I’d trust Twi with anything. That’s the difference between a special somepony and a best friend, I guess.”

“That sounds really nice,” Spike said. “You’re really good for her, y’know?” Rainbow frowned and tilted her head to one side; Spike sighed. “She lets herself plan less when you’re around. I’m not saying that planning is a bad thing, because Celestia knows where we’d be right now if Twilight hadn’t been so well-prepared for just about anything, but sometimes Twilight just needs to let go of all the lists and control and stuff. You let her do that.”

Rainbow smiled. “I don’t let her do that—she’s learned a lot since she moved to Ponyville, Spike, and I’m sure this is one of them. It’s nice of you to say that, though, I guess.”

“I don’t think it is just that, though,” Spike insisted. “I’ve never seen her just go through her day without worrying about whether or not she had ticked off everything she had put on her To Do list; she only ever loosens up if it’s something to do with you. It’s just like her letting you open up—you let her stop worrying.”

Finishing the last of her hay fries, Rainbow sat back in her chair. She figured it was probably best to leave the issue for now; pressing Spike further would probably not end well and, besides, she would rather agree to disagree than go on in pointless argument. The fact was that Twilight was getting better at learning to relax and enjoy herself, and whether Rainbow was the cause of that or merely in the right place at the right time didn’t make any difference.

“Y’know, I saw some ice cream in the fridge earlier…” Spike’s eyes lit up with excitement at those words and Rainbow Dash couldn’t help but laugh at the young drake’s barely-contained excitement. Getting up and walking over to the fridge, Rainbow carried the ice-cold dessert back to the table, picking up the end of a scoop in her mouth as she passed.

“Should I bother getting clean bowls?” she asked, smirking. Spike laughed and shook his head. A flash of understanding shot between them in a look: Twilight wasn’t there.

Scooping the ice cream out of the tub and into the two bowls, Rainbow ran her hoof across the slip of paper on the table before picking up her spoon and grinning at Spike. The young drake returned the grin and the two tucked into their desserts, wincing occasionally at the hints of oil and salt that found their way onto their spoons.

“I wish I had somepony like that,” Spike said, his spoon clinking against the sides of the bowl. “Somepony I could spend time with, be myself around. Why can’t I have that?”

Rainbow didn’t quite know what to do. The warning signs had all appeared by now and her mind was yelling at her to get up and get out of there. Maybe it was her public image, maybe it was just her difficulty with putting emotions into words, or maybe it was her desperate desire not to be brought into another situation like that again, but Rainbow was paralyzed at the thought of even trying to help Spike talk through his problems.

But, at the same time, Rainbow knew she had a duty to Spike, just as she had had a duty to Scootaloo. She wasn’t just Rainbow Dash the awesome weather pony to him—she was a close friend, an advisor and a confidante. She had to face this for him, for both of them, so that they could know that it was okay to talk about things like this.

“I dunno, Spike,” she said. Spike’s expression darkened, falling into a bitter antipathy. “But you know what I think? I think you’re the kind of guy anypony would be proud to know and call their friend. I mean, I’m the freaking Element of Loyalty and I don’t think I could stand by Twilight through everything you guys have been through, not the way you have. You’re loyal and kind and generous; you make ponies laugh and you’re not afraid to tell them the truth when they need to hear it. Those are the qualities that have saved Equestria, time and time again.

“You’re one of the best friends a pony could ever ask for. And I have no idea why you can’t find a special somepony, because the way I see it you would be the special-est somepony any mare could ask for… even if you’re not really somepony, y’know?”

Spike sighed, his head in his claws. “Even if you’re right, and I’m not sure I can believe you, it doesn’t matter. I don’t just want anypony, y’know?”

“I’m sorry, Spike,” Rainbow whispered. “I know how much it hurts to want to be with someone and think they don’t want you—”

“I don’t think,” Spike said forcefully. “I know. Rarity will never see me that way, so why can’t I just not have all these useless emotions?” Spike’s voice had risen almost to a yell, and Rainbow found herself leaning back in her seat involuntarily. As the young drake regained his breath, she sat up slowly and took a moment or two to think before she spoke.

“Emotions aren’t useless, Spike,” she said. “I know they can suck, and I know they can hurt, but I assure you you’re going to be a better dragon—a better person—because of it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

It was quiet for a long time after that. Spike sat and slowly ate the rest of his bowl of ice cream, occasionally slurping the melted dessert too loudly and causing the two of them to jump, just a little. Rainbow sat and tried to focus on the feeling of the spoon’s weight in her hoof, the strange twisting sensation that pulled both down and up at the same time. She caught her own gaze in the reflection on the curved, metal surface. She looked a mess, her hair wild and her expression taut. She looked almost as if her face was straining from the pressure of keeping everything she felt locked inside.

Twilight was the only pony she could truly be herself around. She might pretend to show some emotion, to be mushy, for Spike’s sake but she couldn’t let him see how she was really feeling. It was soon, too soon for time to clean and heal the wounds. And tonight she wouldn’t have the release she so desperately craved; she wouldn’t be able to curl up against Twilight and just lower her mask and cry, sobbing herself to sleep.

She didn’t want to cry, but she didn’t want to keep it all inside.

“Spike?” she asked, her voice hoarse and croaking. She winced at its sound, hoping it wouldn’t betray her, but she knew that the uneven pitch and shaky breaths would not go away this time. “Thanks for sharing your dinner with me.”

“Thanks for cooking it,” Spike replied, quiet but with a small smile. “And thanks for listening, and for trying to help.”

“Any time, Spike,” Rainbow said, painting a smile on her face. “I’m glad you feel you can talk to me about this. Makes me feel like I’m doing some good, y’know?” She coughed and looked around. She felt fidgety—her wings were twitching and she needed to be in the air. “I’m, uh, going to head out now, I guess,” she added lamely. “I could do with the fresh air. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

“See you, Rainbow Dash,” Spike said as she stood up, picking up Twilight’s note. She closed her eyes and exhaled gently, picturing Twilight beside her, before she walked out into the library.

That night, as Rainbow Dash flew home, she took the scenic route over Ponyville. She wasn’t quite feeling up to loops and tricks, but she needed to fly, to have the air under her wings and the wind in her mane. She flew in circles over the sleepy town, looking down at the streets below in the starlight. Couples walked along the streets, leaning into each other as they walked home from their nights out; Rainbow felt her heart lighten as she thought of spending time like that with Twilight. Some colts and fillies were still up (it looked as if somepony were having a camping sleepover in their back garden) and she could hear their laughter. She could see queues of ponies lining up at the doors of clubs, hear the blaring music from them as she flew low over them.

The night was alive, and Rainbow Dash couldn’t help but wonder what all the ponies in the stories of old had been doing to make Luna feel her night was so unloved—

Rainbow almost fell like a stone, suddenly filled with fright and pain and hurt. She didn’t know why—she didn’t care why, because she was too scared to think. Every thought, no matter how hard she tried to stop it, was of Scootaloo. Everything that she saw or heard was something Scootaloo had done, or said, or liked, or hated, or wanted.

When Rainbow Dash finally made it home, she collapsed on her bed and sobbed, holding the note from Twilight close against her chest, until the sounds of the tears and her sudden, jerking breaths faded and she melted into sleep.

Chapter 3: Mushroom and Onion Pie

One of the things Rainbow had learned over the years was that Soarin, for all his agility and talent in the air, was not particularly well-versed in matters of table manners. His habit of eating lots, quickly, without any care for how it might look to those around him was a topic common among the Wonderbolts’ core team, and Rainbow Dash was proud that she could share in this tradition.

“And I said to him,” Soarin continued, before swallowing, “I said, ‘What have you got to hide?’” By this time, the rest of the team (whose collective patience for Soarin’s antics was clearly wearing thin) had begun to stare off into the distance, or shake their heads in their hooves slowly; Spitfire had even pulled a book out of her saddlebag and sat reading, quite oblivious to the world around her. Even Rainbow Dash, who was by far one of Soarin’s biggest fans, was beginning to find his ways a little tiresome.

She didn’t hang on his every word as she had done the first few times she had met the Wonderbolts and Rainbow wasn’t entirely sure she liked this change.

“I have no idea, Soarin,” High Winds replied cheerfully, eliciting a silent groan from the rest of the team. “But I’m pretty sure that whatever he had to say was really mean and unfair of him, and not completely within his right as a business owner to chastise customers bringing disrepute to his establishment.”

Her comment left Soarin’s mouth agape—High Winds quickly reached across the table and closed it, letting Soarin swallow his second (and final) mouthful of pie. Rainbow suppressed a giggle at their antics. It was nice to have the chance to get away from Ponyville, if just for one night, and to spend her time with her idols.

It was nice to have some good food for a change, too; half a month of sandwiches and cold pizza had given Rainbow an appreciation for the pie before her that she couldn’t have otherwise imagined having. It was earthy, yet almost juicy and sweet, the onions adding just the right touch of sharpness. Good food, Rainbow imagined, must be one of the perks of being one of the Wonderbolts.

She turned to Spitfire, who was sitting beside her, still lost in her book. “Hey, Spitfire?” she asked; Spitfire sat up straight, blinking and pushing the book down into her lap. If Rainbow didn’t know better, she’d have thought Spitfire was trying to hide the book from the others. “Thanks for inviting me out tonight.”

“It’s no problem, Rainbow Dash,” Spitfire said, smiling warmly (or whatever passed for warmly for Spitfire, whose expression and tone had always seemed a little distant to Rainbow, even when she knew her Captain was paying full attention). “You might not be on the team, but all of us wanted the chance to get to know you a bit better on the ground. Besides, Fire Streak’s totally got the hots for you.” Spitfire winked as the stallion in question grew extremely fidgety. Rainbow chuckled and wiggled her eyebrows at Fire Streak, who blushed a deep red and tried to look anywhere but at her.

“Sorry to let you down, Streak, but I’m taken,” Rainbow said, trying to mask the rejection with a lighthearted tone. Despite his blush and nervousness, Rainbow could see the stallion’s shoulders sink. “It’s a shame—you’re really cute when you’re nervous.”

High Winds leaned across the table, her eyes wide. “Who’s the special somepony, Rainbow? Anyone we’ve heard of?” Rainbow grinned back at her; High’s enthusiasm was almost as infectious as Pinkie’s.

“I dunno,” Rainbow said slowly, leaning back in her chair with a smug air of confidence. “I mean, she’s Ponyville’s librarian, so she can’t be that well known. She said something about being privately tutored by Princess Celestia and saving the entire world once or twice, but that’s just Twilight for you.”

After a second or two of astounded silence, Rainbow opened her eyes and looked around. Even Fire Streak had forgotten his embarrassment and was staring at her with the rest of her teammates, their mouths all ajar. High Winds reached across to close Soarin’s again, without breaking from her position.

“Well, Rainbow Dash,” Spitfire said after the silence had gotten too much for anypony to bear. “It seems you’re full of surprises. I don’t think any of us would have quite expected that from you.”

“Yeah,” Soarin said. “I mean, I’d always thought a mare like you’d go for somepony who was into flying as much as you are. I mean, y’know, the actual act of flying. Not just watching flying, ‘cos if anypony were to enjoy that more than Twilight I’d be impre-”

“Wait,” Rainbow interrupted. “How’d you know Twilight likes watching flying?” The team around her all shifted, somewhat awkwardly, on their chairs. Soarin coughed self-consciously.

“Rainbow, Twilight was Princess Celestia’s private student for years,” Fleetfoot said simply. “She was in the royal box for most of our shows, after Celestia noticed her watching the mailmares fly around Canterlot each morning. We met her a few times.”

“Granted, she wasn’t the friendliest of kids,” Soarin added with a chuckle. High Winds laughed at that, very suddenly and loudly—her laugh was the kind that could fill whole auditoriums without any kind of assistance, and Rainbow couldn’t help but giggle a little, too. Fleetfoot and Fire Streak shared a look, smirking knowingly. “But you have to admit, she was definitely a huge fan.”

High Winds was collapsed on the table by now, with the rest of the team shaking their heads in mirth. “Huge… fan…” she managed to repeat between shaking breaths, her eyes scrunched up tight and her lips stretched into a wild grin.

Spitfire leaned over to whisper in Rainbow’s year. “One year we were all hot and sweaty after a long flying session, and Soarin made some remark about being overheated in his flightsuit. Unfortunately, Twilight heard and decided to cool us down with a spell she’d been reading about—she enlarged the little desk fan from the commentator’s booth and hovered it over, blasting us with winds that made us feel like we were in a hurricane.”

Rainbow smiled fondly at the absurd mental image. “Yeah, that sounds like Twi alright,” she said. “She’s still not exactly the most practical thinker. Did you hear about the time she made all of Ponyville fall in love with an old doll of hers?”

Minutes later, the room was filled with the sound of riotous laughter as Rainbow and the team competed to see who could tell the most ridiculous story about Twilight. There was a nagging thought in the back of Rainbow’s mind that, just maybe, she shouldn’t be talking about her marefriend quite like this, but she swatted it aside—she wasn’t sharing anything personal, after all, and it was Twilight’s little quirks and foibles that made Rainbow fall in love with her in the first place.

… in love?

Rainbow’s laughter died in her throat as she considered what she had just thought. Was she in love with Twilight? She certainly cared deeply for her marefriend, and she couldn’t help but smile just thinking about her, but surely it was too soon to say she was in love. Right?

“Hey, Rainbow Dash,” Spitfire had turned to her, concern evident in her distant eyes. “Are you okay?”

Rainbow grinned as she dismissed her concerns. She shouldn’t judge herself by the speed of other ponies; Rainbow Dash was the fastest pony around, why shouldn’t she fall in love that much faster. Perhaps, she considered, she might wait a while before she told Twilight, though.

“Yeah,” Rainbow replied, smiling widely. “I was just thinking about Twi is all.”

“Well, Rainbow,” Soarin said, “I for one think it’s great you’ve found somepony who makes you happy, and I think you and Twilight probably make an awesome couple.” Rainbow stared down at her lap, still smiling and trying to hide her blush. Her wings twitched on her back and she had to work hard to resist the urge to just up and fly out the window. It took most of her willpower to just stay seated.

Fleetfoot, as Rainbow could see out of the corner of her eye, was staring at Soarin in disbelief, her expression a display of pleasant surprise. “Since when were you so emotionally mature about all this?” she asked. Rainbow took the opportunity to let her embarrassment be deflected, slowly lifting her head to take part in the discussion once again.

Soarin gaped at Fleetfoot, his expression feigning indignation; he let out a loud sigh of resentment. “I am hurt that you could think so little of me, Fleetfoot.” Soarin help his pose a moment, before smirking at the mare opposite him, who was shaking her head as she laughed silently to herself.

Spitfire cleared her throat; she was raising her wine glass to her eye level, looking sternly at the team around her. The rest of the room quickly reached for their own glasses, High Winds rapidly filling any empty ones before their owners could reach them in a flurry of movement; Rainbow was pleasantly surprised to find hers filled with water, though she never saw High switch bottles.

“A toast,” Spitfire said, once the noise had quietened and everypony was still, “to Rainbow Dash, for holding the most records anypony in Academy history has held. It’s no mean feat, and I’m sure we’ll be seeing her continue to push herself well beyond our expectations in the future.” The was a murmur of agreement that passed around the table, and Rainbow felt her wings twitch again. Before anypony could begin to raise their glass to their lips, Spitfire continued, “And to Soarin, who seems at last to have gained at least some level of emotional maturity in the past week.”

Even Soarin joined the laughter as the group called out, “To Rainbow Dash and Soarin,” the overall effect of which was much like an echoing cave, with so many voices saying the phrase not quite in time with each other. A moment of silence passed as everypony drained their glasses (or, in Rainbow and Silver Lining’s cases, sipped a little water before placing their glasses quietly down).

The group chatted idly for a while after, as the restaurant staff came in and moved dishes and glasses out of the way. Pots of coffee and tea were laid out across the table, mugs and mints laid by each place. Rainbow watched the changeover out of the corner of her eye as she chatted with Fleetfoot about changes in the weather industry: it was nice to know that one of her idols had come from the same position she was now in, but it was nicer still to complain about her daily struggles with the management with somepony who understood.

As the staff began to disappear from the room, their numbers thinning and the air seeming almost lighter for their disappearance, Rainbow leaned across the table for the nearest coffee pot, her eyes still really on Fleetfoot. Reaching for where the handle should have been, Rainbow found her hoof impeded by something solid and round. Looking up, she saw she had brushed hooves with Fire Streak. Grimacing and muttering an apology, she waved her hoof to let the stallion know she could wait; Fire Streak blushed and glanced away, biting his lip but taking the coffee without any complaint.

Fleetfoot smiled at Rainbow Dash, letting out a small sigh. “You’re really lucky, Dash,” she said.

“Lucky?” Rainbow replied, her eyebrows raised. “You think I’m lucky to have to deal with ol’ Rainy whilst trying to keep a whole weather team in check?” Fleetfoot laughed at that, a throaty, deep chuckle that was filled with warmth.

“You’ve got more than I did when I was leading a weather team,” she said. “I had nothing more than my work and my training, Rainbow, but just look at you! You’ve got yourself friends to be proud of, and a marefriend who complements you so well.” Fleetfoot flashed a smile at her. “You’re a lucky, lucky mare.”

“You’re telling me a mare as awesome as you never had a special somepony?” Rainbow raised her eyebrows, cocking her head to one side. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I’ve never had a relationship,” Fleetfoot said quietly. Rainbow tried not to let her jaw drop, hiding her surprise. “I’ve always put so much time into my training, I never really thought about it. I’ll be honest, until I made the team and got invited along to all the parties and socials, I never even really thought about my teammates as friends. It’s probably my biggest regret in life.”

“What about now?” Rainbow asked, before leaning forwards slightly, letting her tone become more conspiratorial. “Got your eye on anypony?” Fleetfoot blushed a deep red at that and Rainbow almost rolled back in her chair, her laughter a quiet cackle. She reached over and poured herself a cup of coffee as she watched Fleetfoot try to control her blush. It was almost surreal to be able to tease her idols.

“It’s okay,” Rainbow said after she’d taken a sip of the scalding hot drink, the warmth refreshing her despite burning her tongue. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“Hey, Rainbow?” She turned her head sharply to the sound of the call—High Winds was standing over by the balcony with Misty Fly, beckoning her. “You should totally join us!” Rainbow turned to Fleetfoot, her expression questioning; Fleetfoot smiled and nodded in encouragement, not quite able to make eye contact and her blush not quite vanished. Rainbow stood up.

“What’s the plan?” she asked as she strode over to the open window. Misty grinned at her, and with her teeth on show the competitive mare’s expression seemed almost feral, yet still friendly. She glanced sideways at High briefly; her eyes were almost sparkling with anticipation.

“Fly,” Misty said, before throwing herself sideways out of the restaurant. High followed shortly after with a whoop of excitement, filling the silence of the wide, open sky. Rainbow’s eyes widened and before she knew it she was leaning over the balcony, trying to see where the two had gone—far below, in the air beneath Canterlot, she could see the two pegasi spreading their wings and soaring upwards. Breaking into a grin that could have matched Misty’s, Rainbow took one last quick look back at the restaurant, her eyes sweeping around the room full of aimless chatter and light music, and jumped.

Her wings itched to spread and fly, but Rainbow kept the impulse at bay. There was something magical about being able to just fall, and Rainbow could hear the air around her filled with laughter. It was the craziest rush, feeling the air flow past her and not stopping it, and it was a moment before she realised that the shaking feeling in her chest and the laughter surrounding her were one and the same.

Not capable of waiting a second longer, Rainbow spread her wings, angling herself so she continued to glide downwards. Now the air that flowed around around her was directed, purposeful and she could hear her own laughter ringing out all the clearer for it. Far above her, she could hear High Winds’ joyous cheers echoing down into the valley.

Pulling up, letting her momentum do the work, Rainbow felt the familiar pressure as gravity itself seemed to grow, the planet beneath her doing all it could to keep her from soaring up and flying away. Finally, she flapped her wings, feeling the air currents break and reform as she levelled out to a steady climb and the clutches for the ground gave up on dragging her down.

It wasn’t long before she had caught up with the two pegasi above her, her rainbow trail below abandoned. The three began to fly alongside each other, at first each trying to outpace the other two but soon settling into a pattern, building up speed alongside each other. It wasn’t a competition: it was an experience shared with friends. And, all the while, one thought passed through Rainbow’s mind, one idea that wouldn’t go away and Rainbow couldn’t want it to because it was simply just true.

This was flying.

Each morning she too to the skies and made her way slowly (at least, for her) to work, her wings almost dragging her against her will, but that wasn’t flying. Each day she would spend her lunch break up in the sky, whirling and turning, practicing her sharp corners and the individual twists and turns of her routines, but that wasn’t flying. Each evening she would fly down to the library, a warm smile on her face and her heart beating loudly against her chest, both racing to get there sooner and enjoying the slow end to her busy day while she could, while nopony could see her, but that wasn’t flying.

This? There was a rush, an excitement, that Rainbow remembered feeling before but couldn’t put her hoof on when it had been. Somewhere deep in her mind she knew that this was the reason she flew, that this was without a doubt the feeling that drove her to better herself each and every day. This was flying, pure and simple: no purpose, no distractions, only the Wonderbolts, the sky, and Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow glanced right at the pegasi beside her. Both were grinning: High with her wide, warm grin that made Rainbow think of Ponyville and hot chocolates and marshmallows; and Misty with her toothy grin that was somehow also a smirk, an expression which seemed to display self-assuredness and confidence in their purest form. Catching Misty’s glance, Rainbow grinned back at her, and for a moment wondered what her grin reminded the Wonderbolt of.

It was barely minutes later when the trio began to slow down, the adrenaline drained from their systems and the distance from Canterlot beginning to seem a little daunting. Without a word, they tilted to the left, banking and gently gliding down onto a large hill that sat in the shadow of the mountain. The hill was, for the most part, covered in trees, but its very top was bare and open to the sky, and it wasn’t long before the three were lying on the grass, staring over the valley at Canterlot. They were breathless, but Rainbow knew that it was not from exhaustion but the excitement and giddy sense of freedom the flight had left them with.

It was a while before any of them spoke.

“So,” Misty said between short, sharp breaths, “what did ya think?”

Rainbow sighed, her exhalation becoming a low, throaty chuckle as she shook her head in disbelief. She could barely control her own grin, but in that moment she just didn’t want to.

“That was amazing,” she managed eventually. “I wish Twilight could have done that with us.” Rainbow blinked, not entirely sure where that thought had come from and not completely certain that she’d said it out loud. She heard a deep intake of breath beside her.

“That’s so sweet,” High Winds said. Rainbow turned to shoot the excitable mare a disapproving glance. “For what it’s worth, I think Twilight would have love to see that. It’s a shame I never got to meet her when she was a filly. She sounds lovely.”

“She is,” Rainbow said, turning to look down at the valley beneath the hill. The ground below was speckled with lights, bright pinpoints of amber in the dark. The space between her and Canterlot seemed a vast expanse of flat space, but in the middle of it all she could see the twinkling, rippling light reflected in the river.

“Okay, enough sappy talk,” Misty said, cutting into the silence with a gentle, mocking tone. High caught Rainbow’s glance and rolled her eyes at her, making Rainbow giggle. “Let’s talk flying.” Rainbow rested her chin in a hoof, frowning.

“Yeah,” she said slowly, a lighthearted tone to her raspy voice. She hadn’t noticed before, but her throat was almost sore from dryness and her lips were a little cracked. Her tongue darted between them, softening the dry flesh. “I guess I can do that.”

Sitting on the hillside in the dark, the three pegasi let time flow by them as they talked about the challenges and difficulties that they had faced since they’d last met. Rainbow spoke of how the Academy had been pushing her after her cloud-clearing record to keep going on and set more and more records of her own, and how no matter how hard she pushed herself and how high she reached the bar would always be moved one notch higher. It wasn’t, she insisted, that the challenge wasn’t exhilarating and incredible, but she did feel that maybe she could spend some time improving her techniques and honing her skills than simply being thrown at a record and told to break it.

High Winds was sympathetic but keen to show her enthusiasm for Dash’s success. She herself had been struggling with the latest routine (though Misty was quick to point out that everypony on the team was struggling with it, even Spitfire) and felt that she was letting the team down with her poor performance. Dash and Misty each tried to ensure High felt valued in their own way, with Dash trying to boost her confidence with pep-talky speeches and Misty trying to convince her the rest of the team was struggling just as much as she was. Despite Misty’s disapproval of the emotional outbursts, the usually bubbly High’s eyes were damp by the end of their discussion.

“What about you, Misty?” Rainbow asked. Misty Fly was one of the members of the Wonderbolts she hadn’t spent very much time around, but the more she saw her the more she reminded Rainbow of Lightning Dust: they shared the same bold determination and utter confidence that both worried and inspired Rainbow.

The pale pegasus shrugged. “I’ve been doing alright, I guess,” she said. “The new routine’s been tough, but I think all of us are going to get the hang of it soon enough. I haven’t had much chance to fly outside of practices lately; I guess that’s why I wanted to come out here.”

A clock rang out in the small town below, the metallic clang echoing out into the valley and shocking the three pegasi on the hillside who hadn’t realised quite how long they had been gone. Staring at each other for a moment, wide-eyed in disbelief, the three wordlessly kicked off the ground, pushing themselves as fast as they could go to return to Canterlot.

This flight felt different—maybe it was the lack of adrenaline, or the urgency with which they flew, but it became pretty clear to Rainbow Dash that this was a race not against each other, but against the chiming of the bells beneath and above them, the synchronised call of the clocks in the valley and the city. Rainbow felt the air around her fighting back, the wind and the chill working in their separate ways to try to stop her.

Panting and thoroughly exhausted, the trio landed on the balcony just moments after the final chime of the bell signalled midnight; slightly deflated from the loss, the three nodded and went their separate ways, walking off towards the rest of the team with the silent promise to go flying again. After looking around the room for a few moments, Rainbow Dash walked to the second balcony and sat down at the table, quietly pouring herself a coffee. Spitfire sat across from her, staring out into the night sky; the older pegasus seemed not to have noticed her arrival at all.

“Enjoy your evening, Rainbow Dash?”

Rainbow smiled, turning out to join Spitfire in admiring the view. It was certainly incredible to look out from the edge of Canterlot; it almost reminded her of Cloudsdale, with the illusion of hanging up in the air, but the splendour and beauty of Canterlot’s architecture, the magnificence and the grandeur, simply gave the view an air of grace and refined pleasure. It felt relaxing, where Cloudsdale simply felt awesome.

“Yeah,” she answered. “It was really nice to spend time with the team again, and I’m glad I got to go flying with High and Misty. They’re nice.”

A moment of silence passed between the two mares. Rainbow felt like she should be content—she was certainly relaxed after a challenging and physically draining flight, and with the night drawing to a close and the team slowly leaving the restaurant behind her she felt that the evening had wrapped up nicely, but there was a small feeling in the back of her mind that wouldn’t quite go away. Something was missing, she was sure of it.

“Thank you,” Rainbow added, quietly. It wasn’t what was missing, but it needed to be said. “These evenings are basically a dream come true for me. It still feels almost like I’m going to wake up any moment and have to head out to work knowing how far I’ve still got to go to make the team.”

Spitfire chuckled. “Rainbow Dash, you’re an amazing flier and one of the Academy’s most promising cadets. Is it really so surprising that you’d be spending time with us?”

“I guess not,” Rainbow admitted, “but it still feels so surreal, you know? Like I’m getting rewarded with my life’s dream when I’ve just been doing what’s expected of me back at the Academy.”

Spitfire laughed suddenly, a loud, barking laugh. “Rainbow Dash,” she said, slowly, shaking her head, “do you really think that I only invite you to these evenings as a reward for doing well?” Rainbow frowned.

“What else could it be?” she asked. Spitfire sighed, still shaking her head and letting out a sigh of disbelief.

“Have you ever considered, just for a moment, that maybe we as a team just want to get to know somepony who has consistently impressed us?”

Rainbow Dash frowned. Was this really more than a reward? Were the Wonderbolts just as interested in her as she was in them? She couldn’t bring herself to think it might be possible—she found it hard enough to think that she had earned this, anyway. She opened her mouth to respond, but no noise came and she found she had no words to say. Spitfire smiled and turned to the door.

“It was a pleasure spending time with you, Rainbow Dash,” she called over her shoulder as she left, and Rainbow stood for a moment in silence, trying her very best to believe it.

Chapter 4: Salad and Hors d'Oeuvres

It took Rainbow Dash a few minutes to build up the courage to knock, and that wasn’t something she was proud of.

“One moment dear!” Rarity’s voice rang out clear as day, reassuring and frightening all at once. Rainbow realised she was trembling and began to tremble all the more. She was fighting to maintain a straight face, to keep the tears that threatened to well up in the corners of her eyes at bay. Her teeth were clenched tightly together, her breaths slow and controlled even though they still managed to shudder as much as her legs. She wasn’t ready.

The door was soon surrounded by a pale blue aura, glowing and shimmering as it was pulled inwards. Rarity stood, not one metre away from her, her forced smile soon fading to a look of worry and (to Rainbow’s shame) pity.

“Rainbow,” she said, quietly, her tone dropping as she shed her frilly verbosity. “Are you sure you want to…”

“No,” Rainbow interrupted, surprised to hear how small her voice was. She’d thought she was ready for this. “B-but I have to. Don’t I?”

Rainbow Dash had never felt so desperate, so hopeless, so alone as she did in that moment. It was beyond everything she thought she knew about herself to plead so openly for reassurance, for the comfort of another pony’s opinion—no, their approval. Rainbow Dash was not a pony who sought approval; she demanded it.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” Rarity said, and Rainbow could hear how she skirted around the issue at hand, how she made the question not one of duty but of personal needs. But this was not an issue about what Rainbow was ready for, no matter how much she may wish it to be: this was an issue of what Scootaloo needed.

Rarity’s tone made it hard to be mad at her, though; when Rainbow would usually have snapped, Rarity was calm and controlled and had even dropped her over-friendly, zealous use of flowery words. She sounded less fake without them, though Rainbow felt immediately guilty for thinking it.

“No, I…” Rainbow began, before her own voice cut her off with a single spasm of her lungs, a deep, cavernous sob. Her eyes widened in surprise for a moment, mirroring Rarity’s, before closing as she bit her lip and shook her head. “I… I do have to do this.”

She opened her eyes to see Rarity nodding lightly, concerned and uncertain.

“Perhaps you could do with a few minutes to clean yourself up?” Rarity asked, and for the first time Rainbow felt the cold dampness on her cheeks where her battle for dignity had been lost some time before. She nodded carefully and Rarity stepped aside, indicating with her hoof that Rainbow should enter the boutique.

Upstairs, away from the noises of laughter and wanton destruction below her, Rainbow stepped into the bathroom and, locking the door, made her way over to the sink. She stared at her reflection for a moment: damp trails ran down her cheeks, and still more moisture clung to the lower lids of her eyes, which were themselves red and bloodshot. She was shaking, her coat was messy and her mane unkempt, but what made her reflection unbearable was her expression: a cold look of hopelessness and desperation and pain.

She couldn’t let Scootaloo see her like this.

Wiping her tears away with the side of her hoof, violently and angrily, she tried to calm her breathing in the hopes that it might relax her expression. She filled the sink with cold water, so cold it was not refreshing but numbing to the touch. Dipping her hoof in the water, she let her foreleg saturate, quickly losing any feeling in it. Part of Rainbow’s mind wondered what it would be like to fill a bathtub with water like this and to simply submerge herself in it—would she lose all feeling? Would she be able to feel the weight that hung itself on her heart and dragged her down, slowing her every movement and making each day feel empty and joyless? Or would the weight pin her down to the tub, holding her under as the water consumed her?

Rainbow’s eyes widened as the gravity of what she had just thought occurred to her. Of course, that kind of thought was not uncommon to her, but she certainly had never given those thoughts any time—she couldn’t have seriously just considered that, had she?

She hadn’t wanted it. It was just an idea. A terrible, bad, awful idea and she was a bad pony for even thinking that in the first place, so bad she probably deserved it if it did happen and she hadn’t considered it, not then and not now and not ever because her friends needed her. Scootaloo needed her. She hadn’t wanted it, except in the brief moment that she had.

She lifted her numb hoof to her face, shivers flooding down her spine. She hadn’t realised her heart had been beating so loudly until it slowed, its thundering beats quieting. She repeated the motion, wiping at her face, the cold refreshing her and wiping away the sense of pain and worry and fear that had so thrown her. A nagging thought probed at the back of her mind, but Rainbow forcefully ignored it.

Drying her face and her hooves, slowly feeling the numbness fade from her limbs as they warmed, she lowered the towel mid-wipe and took another look at her reflection. Her coat and mane could probably have done with brushing, but since she never really cared all that much for haircare she thought doing so now would probably cause unnecessary worry to those who knew her best. Her eyes looked less puffy now, the moisture gone from them and the colour drained; Rainbow smiled at that and, though it did nothing to raise the weight on her heart, was pleased with how much more alive she looked than when she first came in.

She blinked and shook her head, forcing herself to focus on the feel of the marble beneath her hooves, the cold, hard, smooth surface with its finely polished tiles and immaculate shine seeming distant, but somehow soothing.

Slowly, Rainbow walked to the door, pulling the latch open and nudging the door ajar. Tentatively she poked her muzzle through the gap into the hallway. Nopony was there—Rarity had long since gone back downstairs, and she could hear the fashionista’s clear voice from up here, light and carefree. A deeper, earthier tone responded and, though Rainbow couldn’t quite make out the sounds themselves, the tone was unmistakably Applejack’s.

The laughter she heard earlier was still ringing loudly through the house, as the sounds that could only be the Cutie Mark Crusaders tugged all the harder on Rainbow’s heart. She was pretty sure she could hear Sweetie Belle’s melodic voice calling out rhythmically, as the other two fillies’ voices faded to a hush. She closed her eyes and steeled herself, trying to remember when she had last been this nervous—though she wasn’t yet curled up in a ball, Rainbow wasn’t even sure that the Best Young Flyer competition, or even the night she had asked Twilight out had been nearly half as frightening as this night.

Opening her eyes, feeling less confident than she ought to have been, she forced herself forward, one step at a time. The door slid along her sides as she slipped her way slowly out of the bathroom, freezing as she heard hoofsteps on the stairs. Moments later, a familiar orange filly bounded onto the landing and looked frantically to and fro, before her eyes fell on Rainbow Dash. She frowned.

Rainbow stood, frozen, a deer too afraid to run from the wolf that stalked before it. A lump grew in her throat—she felt the need to swallow but just couldn’t quite move enough to do it. Her breaths had become shallow.

“R-rainbow Dash?” Scootaloo asked, her eyes wide with confusion and hope.

“He-heya, squirt,” Rainbow answered, breathlessly. She cursed inwardly. Scootaloo needed her right now, that was why she was here. She had to be strong. She swallowed, smiling tentatively. “Surprised to see me?”

“Well, uhm, yeah,” Scootaloo replied. She fidgeted nervously, pawing at the ground with a forehoof. “I mean, after what happened I kinda thought… well, y’know. I just didn’t think you’d be here.”

“D-do you not want me to be here?” Rainbow regretted the question immediately, even as she knew it had to be asked. She was almost too afraid to hear the answer, wincing as Scootaloo spoke up.

“I-” the filly began, stopping herself. She took a deep breath. “I’m not sure,” she said, looking up at Rainbow with wide eyes, and in her face Rainbow could see her own reflection from minutes before. “I shouldn’t, should I?”

Rainbow nodded. “I screwed up, Scootaloo,” she said, and for a moment the chain around her heart seemed just a fraction lighter, the void in her chest a fraction less empty. “By all rights, I don’t deserve to be your big sister.”

The orange filly took a tentative step forward, her eyes on the floor. Rainbow wanted nothing more than to see her face, to be able to read her expressions, to know what was going on in her little head.

“And i-if that’s what you want,” Rainbow found the words harder to say with each step Scootaloo took towards her, her breaths becoming harder and harder to take, “I can leave. I don’t want to hurt you, Scoots, b-beacause you mean the world t-to me.” Scootaloo was standing right in front of her; it took all of her strength not to reach out a hoof and pull the filly close. She needed to be strong.

“I really want to forgive you, Rainbow,” Scootaloo said, quietly, and Rainbow’s heart dropped like a stone. The filly looked up, her expression pained and torn. “And I really wish I could, but right now I’m just not sure I can.”

Rainbow nodded, fighting the moisture that in her eyes. “I understand, squirt. I’ll tell Rarity it was too soon, and may–”

Two small forelegs wrapped themselves around Rainbow’s. She could feel Scootaloo shaking against her, hear the breaths catch in the filly’s throat as she sobbed. She wasn’t quite sure if she should still be passive, staying put and staying strong for Scootaloo’s sake, but when she looked down at the weeping filly clinging to her leg she knew she simply had to hold her close. She knelt down, wrapping her spare foreleg around Scootaloo and pulling her into a tight embrace. She buried her muzzle in Scootaloo’s untamed mane, pressing her lips against her surrogate sister’s head and kissing her once, gently.

She whispered to Scootaloo, comforting the filly, letting her know that she was there, that she wouldn’t go anywhere so long as Scootaloo needed her, that she was so, so sorry. And soon enough they were both crying, holding each other, apologising and crying and holding and crying.

Everything was Scootaloo. Everything she could feel was Scootaloo’s coat, the pressure of little legs around her neck, the dampness of the filly’s tears clinging to her coat. Everything she could see was a mass of orange and purple, bright and vivid and so very there. Everything she could hear was the ratcheting sobs and guttural breaths, the strained whispers and the fluttering heartbeat.

It was like that for a long time, because time had ceased to be, and then, somehow, it wasn’t.

Something changed as the two sisters leaned apart, not quite letting go but letting themselves look at each other, truly see how the other was doing. Rainbow smiled weakly as she reached a hoof out to wipe away the tears that still clung to Scootaloo’s cheeks, and chuckled emptily as Scootaloo did the same for her.

“We must look a right mess right now,” she said, eliciting a weak echo of a laugh from Scootaloo. “If anypony asks, we had a calm and rational discussion, okay?”

Scootaloo nodded, sniffing and rubbing her hoof under her nose.

“Rainbow?” she asked softly. Rainbow Dash looked right at her and, seeing worry and fear and nerves in the filly’s eyes, smiled gently in encouragement.

“Yeah, squirt?”

“C-can we pretend?” she asked, so softly Rainbow was not even certain she’d heard the words. “Just f-for tonight? I j-just want to pretend that I c-can forgive you.”

A wide grin spread across Rainbow’s face, and slowly Scootaloo’s look of worry turned to one of confusion and even bewilderment. Rainbow pulled her sister close to her once again, this time not curled around the filly but holding her in a simple hug of affection and thanks.

“Scootaloo,” she whispered, “that’s more than I deserve. Of course we can pretend.” She felt Scootaloo’s hold on her tighten, and she squeezed back quickly before pushing the filly away. “But if we’re going to do that, I think we probably ought to head downstairs, rather than staying up here.”

Nodding, Scootaloo pushed herself free of Rainbow’s hold and stood up, Rainbow following suit. They walked slowly to the top of the stairs, the bright light shining up from the boutique’s floor making Scootaloo squeeze her eyes shut for a moment, and Rainbow wince.

Eyes adjusted to the light, Rainbow began to step down the stairs, but something held her back. Turning her head, she saw Scootaloo frozen at the top of the staircase, her eyes wide and her legs shaking. Rainbow stepped back and pressed her leg up against Scootaloo’s side, looking down at the small filly.

“You alright?” Scootaloo shook her head, slowly and slightly. Rainbow took a deep breath. “You want to know a secret?” She waited on Scootaloo’s almost imperceptible nod before leaning down to whisper in the filly’s ear. “Neither am I,” she said, “but I think that by the time we get to the bottom of the steps, we both will be.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so,” Rainbow said. She remembered how her Dad had always used to do this with her when she was afraid to go to flight school, in the earliest days when she had first started to be bullied and called names. She remembered how, by the time she had been coaxed down the staircase, slowly, one step at a time, she felt as if she were ready to take on the world and that nothing could stop her.

She could see it on Scootaloo’s face—the confidence and comfort that grew with each step they took together. She looked determined, and Rainbow could feel her sister’s drive and unadulterated desire to succeed almost radiating from her, infecting her with confidence and pride.

Halfway down, and Scootaloo’s fiercely determined expression had become a smirk of confidence, her shoulders raised and eyes no longer fixed so widely open. Rainbow could feel her own body losing its pent-up tension, too, and her proud grin was growing to match Scootaloo’s smirk.

By the time they reached the bottom of the staircase, both of them felt ready to take on the world. They glanced at each other, a wide grin passing between them—Rainbow gave Scootaloo a brief nuzzle of affection and pride, before they walked in the direction of their friends’ voices. Rainbow held the kitchen door open, letting Scootaloo enter first and giving the filly a second or two before she herself made her way in.

Rainbow Dash could feel every eye on her, from the inquisitive eyes of the Cutie Mark Crusaders and the relieved glance of Rarity, to the cold and distant gaze of Applejack.

“Evenin’, Rainbow Dash,” the farmer greeted her.

“Applejack,” Rainbow acknowledged, bowing her head towards her. The farmer took a deep breath.

“I’m surprised y’all are here,” she said. “I was under the impression you wouldn’t be showin’ up.”

Rainbow nodded, closing her eyes. “If I’m honest, so was I,” she admitted, chuckling weakly, “but it wasn’t my choice to make.”

Applejack smiled, her expression warm and almost proud but her eyes distant. She nodded once, so lightly it was almost to herself, before she rose and wrapped Rainbow in a bone-crushing hug.

“It’s good t’see you outta that library, Rainbow,” she whispered. “I know how hard it must’a been for y’all to come here. Thanks.”

“Heh,” Rainbow shrugged, hugging Applejack back with all her might. “I promised I’d be here, didn’t I?”

Applejack let Rainbow go, smiling, and sat back down at the table. Rainbow took her place between Scootaloo and Apple Bloom, giving the latter a friendly smile and the former a flash of a grin and a wink, to let her know she was alright.

“I hope you don’t mind that we started without the two of you,” Rarity apologised with a grimace. “Do tuck in; help yourselves!” Rainbow let Scootaloo reach for the salad plate first, scooping herself a hoofful of hay fries and a couple of cherry tomatoes. Topping up her plate with the salad as she swapped with Apple Bloom, she saw Sweetie Belle nudging Scootaloo and indicating a plateful of nibbles that Rainbow didn’t recognise—no doubt some fancy hor do-erve Rarity had picked up from her time in Canterlot—and smiled as Scootaloo eagerly piled three of the snack-sized rings onto her plate.

Rainbow was strangely quiet over the course of the dinner. She knew that she would have spoken more, and on several occasions caught herself almost starting to say something. But each time she did, something would bubble up in her chest and the weight around her heart would tug just hard enough to grab her attention. Instead, Rainbow sat back and quietly let the conversation happen around her, relishing the opportunity to simply let her friends speak and enjoy their company. It was nice to be surrounded by her friends and, for once, not have to make the conversation even once about her.

She knew deep down that it couldn’t last, that eventually the conversation would come around to her. If Rainbow Dash had learned one thing in life, it was that nothing good could last if you didn’t do everything you could to keep it safe, and by resigning herself to not speaking Rainbow could do nothing to steer the conversation. She had nopony else she could blame for letting this come up.

“So, Rainbow Dash,” Apple Bloom piped up, “where’ve you been the last few weeks? I mean, I usually catch ya sleepin’ in the orchards after school, but you ain’t been there for almost a month!”

“I haven’t, have I?” Rainbow Dash asked, quietly. A part of her mind that sounded an awful lot like Gilda told her she should lie, that the small look of confusion on Apple Bloom’s face could be removed with a simple lie and the conversation could move on without her. She could say that she had been away at the Academy (nopony would no any wiser, and Applejack and Rarity would never contradict her while she was in this state), or that she’d been hanging out with the Wonderbolts and learning all their trade secrets. It wouldn’t really be a lie, would it? Spitfire had invited her to three dinners that month already—there was no reason for her to mention that she hadn’t even responded to any of them.

But there was another part of her mind, the part that was quiet and firm and gentle and spoke almost in Twilight’s voice. Rainbow’s heart skipped a beat as she thought that, maybe, what these three fillies deserved—what Scootaloo deserved—was not some half-baked lie about being out of town, or some self-adoring statement of how she was so awesome she could just chill with the Wonderbolts whenever she wanted. No, she could do better than that; she could be better than that.

“I’ve had a lot to think about,” Rainbow said, slowly, painfully aware of how everypony was watching her so very closely. “I needed some time away to think and to work out if I was really being the best pony I could be, so I went and locked myself in the library for a month.” She noticed the look Rarity and Applejack shared at the comment, unseen by the children around the table, but decided not to bring it up. This wasn’t for their benefit.

“Twilight helped me work out the kind of pony I wanted to be,” she said, “and she helped me think long and hard about how I could start to be more like that pony.” She looked down at Scootaloo, then, and brushed the little pegasus affectionately with her wing. She smiled.

“I need to learn to be a better big sister to Scootaloo,” she said, after an eternity of eye contact with the filly. “I screwed up really badly some time ago, and I want to make up for that. And,” she chuckled darkly, almost snorting in derision, “I was an idiot for taking so long to realise that.”

She felt a light pressure at her side; looking down, she could see Scootaloo pressing her own wing against her for comfort. She smiled and wrapped a wing around Scootaloo, pulling her in for a quick hug.

“It’s mighty mature of ya to say that, Dash,” Applejack said, “and I’m glad t’see you unafraid to be so cuddly. I remember back when you wouldn’t be caught dead so much as touchin’ another pony, because y‘all thought it weren’t cool.”

“Hey,” Rainbow objected, grinning widely, “are you trying to say I’m not cool?” Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle giggled at that, covering their muzzles with their hooves in an attempt to seem dignified; Rainbow could feel Scootaloo shaking slightly beside her. “I’ll have you know nothing is cooler than getting to spend time with my surrogate sister,” she added warmly.

“Would anyone like some cake?” Rarity asked, hovering a tray of small cupcakes in the air above the table. The fillies’ eyes grew wide and excited, and even Rainbow had to admit that the cupcakes on the tray looked delectable. Smiling, Rarity cleared some space in the middle of the spread and set down the tray, allowing everypony to take their pick. Rainbow mouthed ‘thanks’ at her, as carefully as she could; Rarity simply nodded and smiled, her face telling Rainbow that it was all okay much better than any words could.

The cupcakes were unmistakably Pinkie’s, Rainbow noted; everything from the over-the-top swirls of the strawberry icing to the mouth-wateringly perfect lightness of the cakes themselves was indicative of Pinkie Pie’s mastery of arcane baking arts. Rainbow knew that Twilight, with her library full of books and impeccable magical control, could never bake a cupcake half as good as this—though in fairness Rainbow wasn’t entirely sure that Twilight could cook in the first place. The last month she had mostly lived off whatever she and Spike could drum up from the eclectic set of ingredients that Twilight would invariably keep.

Rainbow laughed as she noted the frosting moustache that lined Applejack’s muzzle. The others turned to see what had caused her outburst, their eyes slowly turning to Applejack’s bemused face.

“What’re y’all lookin’ at me for?” Applejack asked warily, uncertain in the face of her friends’ laughter—even Rarity was laughing more than was strictly lady-like. After a moment Applejack realised what must have happened and she deftly wiped her tongue around her lips, clearing the frosting from her face as she joined in the laughter that felt like balloons on Rainbow’s heart.

The evening soon passed, as good evenings in better company always do, and Rainbow soon found saying goodbye to Applejack and Apple Bloom, who seemed somewhat disappointed to have to leave so soon. She sat with Rarity and chatted idly for a little while, letting the fashionista catch her up on the goings-on around Ponyville she had missed in her self-enforced isolation. The two watched their sisters play as they spoke, finding peace in the front of innocence the fillies managed to pull.

Before long, though, both fillies were yawning and Rainbow and Rarity conceded it was probably time to call the evening to a close. Scootaloo looked up with wide, frightened eyes as Rainbow called for her to get her things.

“Are you sure you should be taking her home, Rainbow?” Rarity asked. “I don’t mean anything by it, only that I don’t think they would take too kindly to seeing you—”

“Yeah, I know,” Rainbow muttered darkly. She hadn’t really been hoping to get to walk through Ponyville at night with Scootaloo, just enjoying to company and the silence in the cold, dark night. “I just want to talk to her before she goes, that’s all. Do you want me to stay and watch Sweetie while you walk her, or is there somepony else who can…”

“That would be a good idea, Rainbow,” Rarity answered. “Both of those things would be. You can speak outside, if you need to.”

Scootaloo had gathered her saddlebags and was standing in the door to the boutique’s floor, looking somewhat dejected and almost desperate. Rainbow almost froze at the sight of her again: the normally strong filly looked almost fragile, now. Rainbow forced herself to smile, and wasn’t completely certain she’d be able to fight the tears this time.

“Hey, squirt,” she said, her voice somehow sounding as if nothing in the world were wrong, when the whole world was falling apart. “Can we have a word before you go?”

Scootaloo closed her eyes and nodded; Rainbow held the door open, letting the filly slide past her as she had before dinner. Once out in the cold, Rainbow turned to her little sister, who was shivering and looked as if she were fighting back tears of her own.

“So... “ Rainbow began, letting her voice trail off into the night. “Tonight was fun, eh?”

Scootaloo snorted. “Yeah, fun. That’s totally the word I’d use.” Her tone was cold and dark and bitter, and Rainbow wasn’t entirely sure what had changed for the young filly she called a sister. She reached out a wing to wrap around the shivering pegasus, but Scootaloo shrugged it off. Rainbow bit her lip, hard, focusing on the pain, the sharp pain that would not let her cry. She had to give Scootaloo some space. She knew that.

“Rainbow, I got to spend tonight pretending that you were the big sister I always wanted you to be.” Rainbow nodded slowly, frowning at Scootaloo’s back. “It was… nice. I enjoyed it. And I think that’s the problem.”

Scootaloo turned to face Rainbow. The constant tear-trails on her cheeks were a surprise—by her tone, Rainbow would have guessed that she hadn’t been crying at all, she sounded so collected and sure of herself, if bitter and angry.

“I can’t help it, Rainbow—I think you’re awesome. I idolise you, and tonight I learned that I do that without even wanting to.” Scootaloo shook her head, breathing shakily, and for the first time since they had stepped into the kitchen her voice began to sound uncertain again. “Do you know how hard it is to be unable to hate somepony you should?” she asked, and Rainbow’s eyes widened. Scootaloo pressed on, seemingly not even noticing that Rainbow’s heart was dragging her down, down into the snow and the ice-cold bathtub. “Do you know how hard it is to know that you shouldn’t ever want to see somepony again, but be so relieved, so happy when you see them?” Scootaloo was weeping, now, openly sobbing in the cold and Rainbow couldn’t do anything to help her. Did she know how hard that was?

“I w-was so happy when I saw you in that hallway,” she sobbed. “A-and I know I m-might not have looked like it, but I was j-just so p-pleased to see…” Her voiced trailed to a whisper, her jaw quivering and her whole body shaking with nerves and with the cold outside. Rainbow was already numb to it.

“I can’t do this yet, Rainbow,” she whispered into the dark. Rainbow Dash looked up at that, and saw her pain reflected in the eyes of the filly opposite her. “I’m sorry,” she added, “but I just can’t.”

And as Scootaloo walked off alone into the dark, Rainbow felt everything that was keeping her afloat, everything that was keeping her fighting, simply vanish, and Rainbow Dash fell.

Chapter 5: Lasagne al Forno

Dinner that evening was going to be a surprise.

Twilight had told her earlier that morning that Spike wanted to prepare the three of them something special, and that he was refusing to tell her what it would be. Rainbow wasn’t entirely sure that Twilight was telling the truth about that last part, but was more than willing to accept a mystery meal from Spike (who was notoriously skilled in a kitchen).

She’d head up when she felt a bit better, anyway.

It was just a headache. Rainbow could feel the throbbing behind her temples, the dull, echoing pain in her skull. It would pass—headaches always did. Rainbow was sure that this one would be no exception. And as soon as she had convinced herself of that, she’d head upstairs.

The basement of the library was an eclectic space, and one could never quite be sure what one would find there. Sometimes Twilight would set up huge pieces of machinery and strange, whirring devices that she assumed were for some experiment or other; she remembered the time when she used to ask Twilight about her experiments, and how she would listen for hours and try to understand the crazy, impossible things Twilight described. Her marefriend’s research was exciting, cutting-edge stuff that Rainbow couldn’t make head nor tail of but certainly enjoyed the funny-sounding egghead words.

Tonight the basement was bare, just shelves of books and empty darkness. Rainbow liked that; she didn’t feel so cramped when there was all that noise down here. There was even a Rainbow-sized nook in the old wooden shelves that she could curl up in and just wait for her headache to pass.

Her wings were still fidgeting on her back. They had been all day, for almost as long as she could recall, now. It had been so long since she had been flying—and the dull movement she went through each day to get to work and back did not count at all—and her body was itching with the need to go out, to spread her wings and just fly, feel the air on her coat and the wind on her face.

To her credit, she tried. Each day, Rainbow Dash stepped outside the library, an hour before she needed to leave for work, as she would any other day. She spread her wings out wide, feeling the wind flowing past them, ruffling her feathers gently in the breeze. But as she tried to kick off, her vision would fill with those wide, purple eyes and her legs would lock up, her wings frozen in place. Her breathing would quicken and she would stand there in the open, just as Ponyville began to wake up and go about its day, too frightened to move.

Rainbow Dash, Equestria’s fastest pegasus—grounded.

She didn’t need to fly. After all, she was in-shape and got plenty of practice whilst at work. She made sure to do the occasional loop or roll whilst clearing the clouds, or practice her turns as she flew in unnecessary detours. Perhaps it made her day longer than it needed to be, but Rainbow Dash knew she couldn’t face coming home a minute sooner than she did each evening.

Hoofsteps on the stairs. Rainbow froze up at the sound, squeezing her eyes shut and suppressing a groan as the room was lit up, her head pounding.

“Rainbow?” Twilight’s voice. How long had she been down here? It couldn’t be dinner-time yet, could it? “Are you down here?”

Rainbow grunted in affirmation and she could hear the small sigh of relief Twilight gave in response. Hooves clacked down the polished wooden stairs, each sharp impact loud and painful, almost as if Twilight were walking across her skull. Soon enough, her marefriend stepped into view, looking around the room in bewilderment. She opened her mouth, about to call out—Rainbow coughed.

Their eyes locked and a wide smile grew across Twilight’s muzzle, becoming a wide, toothy grin; Rainbow couldn’t help but smile weakly back. Twilight began to walk across the room to her, then stopped, frowning, before her eyes shot wide open. Rainbow smiled wider at that. Twilight was always beautiful, but she was mesmerising when she was thinking.

Her hoofsteps sounded muffled as she walked towards Rainbow, and though the pegasus was not entirely sure why the noise was so much quieter now she was too lost in Twilight’s eyes to care. The unicorn’s eyes were the two most beautiful gemstones Rainbow had ever seen, sparkling as they did with excitement whenever her marefriend realised anything, no matter how insignificant. Rainbow could lose herself in those stones, just staring at the intricate beauty of the lavender irises (how they were really made of shards of all kinds of shades, separated by sharp, dark lines that made Rainbow think of the spokes of a wheel, and how all those shards came together in perfect formation to surround her pupils, dark, pitch-black wells of infinite calm.)

Before she knew it, Twilight’s face was directly in front of hers, and Rainbow found herself having to blink as her eyes strained from focusing too close to her muzzle. The pounding in her head rose back again, a timpani crescendo.

“Room for one more in there?” Twilight giggled as Rainbow hurriedly squeezed into the small hole in the wall she had found, pressing her body up tightly against the edge to let her marefriend worm her way in beside her. She was pressed up so tightly against her that she could feel Twilight’s chest rise and fall with her breathing, hear—no, feel her heartbeat through her coat. She wriggled a wing free from between them and draped it across Twilight, squeezing gently. Twilight rested her head on Rainbow’s shoulder.

“This is a cool hidey-hole you found,” she said, her eyes closed and a small, contented smile playing on her lips. “I remember a similar place I used to curl up in as a filly in the Royal Canterlot Archives, between two sets of shelves that somepony hadn’t quite aligned right. It was the perfect place to go and curl up with a book at night. Nopony could ever find you.”

“That sounds nice,” Rainbow said, wincing as Twilight prodded her side. “Hey, what was that for?”

“For implying you’d rather I hadn’t come and found you,” Twilight said huffily. “I was rather enjoying being all snuggly and cosy with you.” Rainbow laughed and pulled Twilight towards her with her wing, and though it didn’t really accomplish anything she saw Twilight smile a little in response.

“I dunno,” she said playfully, “I was quite enjoying being curled up, alone in the dark. I’m not sure you showing up has really improved it—it’s all gotten a bit more cramped, you see, and—”

Twilight’s lips cut her off, pressing against hers. She tilted her head sideways, letting out a small moan of surprise, returning Twilight’s hungry kiss with as much passion as she could muster. After a moment the two broke apart, panting, their forelegs wrapped around each other’s necks.

“Okay,” Rainbow whispered. “Maybe I am just a teensy, tiny bit glad you came down here.” Even though she couldn’t see Twilight’s face, she knew that the mare was almost grinning with smug pleasure. One day, just one day, she would prove Twilight wrong about something.

After a little while of just lying there, curled up against each other and enjoying being together, Twilight spoke up. “We should probably head upstairs,” she said, her tone more than a little sad. “Spike’s probably wondering where we’ve gotten to, and why we’re letting his food go cold.” Rainbow nodded and stretched herself out, pushing against the side of the small space to let her marefriend wiggle out. Twilight squeezed herself out of the gap, coyly waving her tail in Rainbow’s face as she stood up and laughing at the shell shocked expression and stammering incoherency Rainbow was left with.

As Twilight made her way upstairs, Rainbow took one more look around the basement, the thudding in her head drastically reduced and the weight on her heart feeling just a fraction lighter. She smiled as she climbed the stairs behind Twilight, trying and failing not to stare at the unicorn’s swaying hips and swishing tail. It was only when she missed a step that Rainbow considered maybe looking at where she was going in the dark, instead.

Blinking as she emerged into the main room of the library, the cavernous space riddled with stairs and shelves that truly felt much larger than it could have been thanks to its open architecture and many windows (and why there were windows in a tree Rainbow had never quite figured out. She’d asked Twilight once, but the librarian had been just as confused as she was.) As she passed through the doorway the mouth-watering smell of Spike’s cooking wafted past her.

“Is Spike roasting chestnuts?” she asked, her jaw dropping at the very thought of such a meal. Why she’d never thought of roasting the delectable nuts—hell, why nopony had ever seemed to have done it before was a mystery to her.

“It certainly smells like it,” Twilight said warily. Just as she finished speaking her stomach gave a loud rumble, and Rainbow Dash burst out laughing as she blushed a deep red. Shaking her head firmly, Twilight made her way to the kitchen, leaving Rainbow almost sprinting to catch up.

“Evening, ladies,” Spike said as the two mares entered. Rainbow’s eyes stretched wide at the unbelievable change that Spike had undertaken, dressing the table in a white cloth and placing a single tealight in the middle, the flame flickering and casting swirling patterns of light and shadow across the walls of the kitchen. The curtains were drawn to block out what little sunlight remained as the sun began to set below the horizon outside, lighting the back of the flimsy material with an orange glow. One sideways glance told Rainbow that Twilight was just as surprised as she was—perhaps her marefriend had been telling the truth about this being a surprise for both of them.

The biggest surprise in the room, however, was Spike, who was dressed in an adorable little suit underneath his usual apron. It wasn’t quite the right shape from him, the outfit being based on formal stallionswear that simply didn’t suit Spike’s body-shape at all, the overall effect bulky and misshapen. Despite all that and the frilly apron he wore over it, Spike had somehow managed to achieve an air of class in the way he held himself, his confident, warm smile sending all humourous thoughts about his outfit packing.

“Dinner is almost ready,” he said. “Take a seat. I’ll be with you in a moment.” Despite his scratchy, high tone and childlike face, Spike was somehow managing to pass as a fashionable host. Rainbow and Twilight were so stunned that they took their seats in silence, exchanging shocked glances all the while.

After a few moments of awed silence, Spike walked up to the table and smiled nervously at Twilight. “Would you mind helping with the dishes?” he asked, and Rainbow relaxed as she saw the Spike she knew was still there beneath the aura of confidence and poise. Spike held up his palms to Twilight, showing what looked like burn marks on them. “They’re rather hot.”

Her eyes flying wide, Twilight’s horn lit immediately and the kitchen sprang to life. Plates and dishes hovered slowly from the oven to the table, laying themselves neatly out across the surface as cutlery flew from the drawers to join them. Behind her, Rainbow could hear the tap running and, soon enough, a large dish of cold water (ice cubes included) was placed on a small stool that had flown in from the library itself to sit by Spike’s side.

“Put your claws in there,” Twilight said gently, her horn still lit as sauces and condiments were pulled from cupboards and placed neatly in the middle of the table. Within seconds the spread was laid out, quicker than Rainbow could even process what kinds of food had been made.

There was a salad, of course, with daisies and daffodils and a bunch of leaves Rainbow had never really cared too much for the difference between, but Spike had also rustled up some creamy mushroom soup and, of course, a tray full of roasted chestnuts, still steaming, glazed and warm and mouth-watering. But the centrepiece of the dinner was a deep tray, filled to the brim with… something and coated with breadcrumbs, lightly toasted.

“It’s called lasagne,” Spike proclaimed, gesturing to the dish. “I found the recipe in an old book last week and have been dying to try it. It’s alternate layers of flat pasta slices and warm, steamed spinach and tomato filling.” Rainbow and Twilight shared a shocked look; they’d both known Spike could cook well, but this was beyond anything they’d ever seen.

“Spike, it looks amazing!” Twilight exclaimed. “How did you manage to do this? It looks like far too much work for one cook.”

Spike waved a hand dismissively, blushing a light rose. “It was nothing, really,” he said modestly, pulling his apron over his head, drying his claws on it and laying it on the stool beside him. “Like I said, I wanted to give this recipe a try, and you gave me the perfect excuse to.”

Twilight shot Spike a warning glance that worried Rainbow. Clearly this was more than just a pleasant, surprise dinner.

“So…” she began. Twilight bit her lip nervously and Spike frowned, not quite sure what he had said that he wasn’t meant to. “What is this excuse?”

“Can we save this for after dinner?” Twilight asked softly. “It’s really nothing important, but I thought you might feel better if you’d had something nice to eat first.”

Suspicious but too hungry to complain, Rainbow nodded slowly, reaching forward to pile roasted chestnuts onto her plate. Her stomach rumbled as the hard shells clinked against the porcelain of the plate, little halos of condensation forming around them as the landed and spreading out across the plate. Rainbow wasn’t entirely sure she could wait to serve up a portion of everything else before she tucked in, and only refrained from starting when she recalled the hopeful expression on Spike’s face as he described his central dish.

Twilight had carefully divided the rectangular meal into four pieces and was slowly lifting three out of the tray they were wedged into. Moments later, a large, rectangular pile of green, red and yellow layering stood in the middle of Rainbow’s plate, steaming and smelling of ripe tomatoes left out in the sun to dry.

Able to wait no longer, Rainbow picked up her knife and fork and dove into the meal with enthusiasm. As the first mouthful passed her lips, Rainbow Dash found herself pleasantly surprised by the warm, earthy flavour of the dish, the slight hint of tanginess and the sharp, crisp slices of onion that had found their way into the tomato sauce. She swallowed.

“This is good,” she remarked, before looking up to see Spike and Twilight not yet cutting their first forkful. Grimacing awkwardly, Rainbow Dash coughed and nodded. “I like it?” It wasn’t so much the uncertainty in her opinion that made it sound like a question—Celestia herself would not be able to find fault in it—but rather her uncertainty in how to respond. She didn’t quite know if she could salvage her manners from her rushed start; table manners were not something she’d had to use regularly for quite some time now.

As good as the food was, and as pleasant as the company and conversation were, Rainbow couldn’t quite relax throughout the meal. In the back of her head, she couldn’t quite shake the nagging feeling that something bad was going to happen. Twilight wanted to talk to her after the meal. Rainbow chewed on a chestnut, rolling the flavour around her mouth with her tongue as she pondered what Twilight could want to talk about. She’d seemed particularly eager in their kiss downstairs, and now she watched the unicorn closely she could see that her marefriend was nervous. She was biting her lip more often than she usually would (Rainbow could see it beginning to swell and darken in colour) and she couldn’t maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds at a time.

Was Twilight going to… no, she wasn’t, was she? Rainbow felt her heart stop for a second, the sudden break in the natural rhythm of her body throwing her. Her breath caught in her throat, her mouth stuck half-open in a dazed stare. She couldn’t take her eyes off Twilight.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Rainbow swallowed. She tried to control her breathing which was shallow and uneven and shaky. She was frightened and now Twilight was looking at her, her brows furrowed in a look of confusion and pity and oh Celestia Twilight was going to break up with her wasn’t she?

“Rainbow?” Spike called out. “Are you okay? You look… well, you look kinda sick.”

Spike probably had a point: Rainbow’s coat felt clammy and cold and damp from sweat, her face felt drained and lifeless. She felt nauseous, like her stomach was somehow unstable and liable to decide to empty itself at any moment.

With lightning reflexes, Rainbow sprinted from the kitchen, up the winding stairs to the bathroom. Her face laid against the cold, white lid, Rainbow retched, hot liquid pouring uncontrollably from her throat, the sweat on her face clinging to the porcelain. Time seemed to freeze as she sucked in air in gulping breaths, her heart beating slowly but violently in her chest. By the time she threw up again, Rainbow was aware of the light pressure of a hoof on her shoulder, the calming sensation of another running through her mane, keeping the most forward strands tucked around to the side. She moaned and shivered and retched one final time, her body cold and almost shivering, her mouth filled with a the most disgusting, biting aftertaste.

After a few minutes of kneeling there, Rainbow realised she was crying.

Deciding that she was, at the very least, not likely to need to stay where she was any more, Rainbow rose slowly to her hooves, her legs shaking, unsteady, beneath her. Twilight was by her side, levitating a glass of water which she tried to grab with shaking hooves, but Twilight hovered the glass to her lips. She gulped greedily at the drink, feeling the cleansing, cold water wash away the bitter aftertaste. Behind her, she heard the toilet flush.

“Here,” Twilight said gently, holding a cold, damp flannel to her forehead, “this should help.”

The cold water held against Rainbow’s forehead was surprisingly calming; she felt warmer at once, her legs slowing in their shaking and her thoughts becoming all the more clear. As they did so, she recalled what had brought her here in the first place and she recoiled from Twilight’s touch, even from the flannel her marefriend had grasped in her magic.

“Rainbow?” Twilight asked, confused. “What’s the matter, Dash? Are you okay?”

Rainbow closed her eyes tight and took two slow, deliberate breaths before opening them and looking directly into Twilight’s gorgeous lavender eyes. She opened her mouth, but it felt dry and empty so she closed it and swallowed.

“Please don’t break up with me,” she whispered, her eyes dropping to the floor as her vision began to swim with moisture. She heard Twilight’s breath catch with a little gasp, and felt the unicorn wrap her forelegs around her neck; Rainbow returned the hug with her wings, pulling her marefriend close.

“Rainbow,” Twilight whispered, tilting her head downwards so that she was facing the pegasus directly, “I’m not breaking up with you. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not this month, not ever. I can’t believe I let you think I would do that.” She caught Rainbow’s lips with hers, kissing her marefriend fiercely. Rainbow kissed her back, desperate and hopeful. She needed Twilight.

“I was just getting worried about you, silly filly,” Twilight said, her voice light as air, as she leant her head against Rainbow’s, her breath warm against Rainbow’s coat. “You’ve spent so much time in the library lately—and it’s not that I don’t want you around, because I love having you around, but… you’ve been acting different. Morose. Lifeless. You’re not my Rainbow Dash, and I think it’s because you’ve isolated yourself in here. It almost reminds me of how I used to avoid everypony when I was a filly and I don’t want to see you do that to yourself.

“It’s hurting you, Rainbow. You’re missing out on opportunities to spend time with our friends…” She pulled back from their embrace, looking Rainbow in the eye. Rainbow couldn’t look away, and was ashamed to think that she would want to. “It’s not like I haven’t seen those envelopes with the Wonderbolts’ logo on them. The Rainbow Dash I know would never casually throw away an invitation to anything the Wonderbolts were at—the Rainbow Dash I know would risk her job keeping the weather nice for me just to go to a party she knew she wouldn’t like simply because the Wonderbolts were there.”

Rainbow sat and listened, letting Twilight’s words sink in. She didn’t want to admit it, but Twilight was right (as she so often was). Worse, though, was that Rainbow knew she had been thinking these exact same things for weeks. She realised, now, that those thoughts she had stopped herself from having, those things she had cut herself off before she could say, that unbearable feeling of emptiness and lethargy that filled her days and evenings… they were all because she was avoiding the world, hiding away in fear and in shame.

“I don’t want to see you hurting like this any more, Dash.” Twilight’s eyes were wide and framed by a shared pain, and Rainbow dimly wondered how much her apathy and isolation were hurting her marefriend. Images of their five-month anniversary dinner flooded her mind and Rainbow gave a quick, involuntary shudder. “But there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I can’t make you go out and see your friends… our friends.

“But I can tell you that they all miss you, that they always ask after you when I see them and that they would be so happy to see you again. They’re almost as worried as I am, I think.” Twilight sighed and pulled herself closer to Rainbow again, and Rainbow could hear her sharp, short, controlled breaths.

“Rarity suggested you go to hers tomorrow night,” Twilight said, slightly too loud and slightly too firmly. Rainbow got the distinct impression that Twilight felt this was the most important thing she had to say. “She and Applejack are treating the Crusaders to tea and—”

“You want me to see Scootaloo?” Rainbow asked, her voice dry and low. She felt Twilight stiffen in response and realised she sounded almost angry, so she tilted her head and kissed Twilight softly on the neck.

“I think it would be good for you,” Twilight said quietly, her voice nervous and almost embarrassed, the way she spoke if she felt that somepony thought her suggestion was stupid. “And I think it would be good for Scootaloo.”

“Scoots doesn’t want to see me,” Rainbow rasped, her voice catching in her throat, her tone bitter and final. There was no room for debate on this issue: Scootaloo hated her, now, and that was that.

“I don’t think that’s quite right,” Twilight whispered, almost shaking and if Rainbow didn’t know better she’d have thought that her marefriend was actually afraid of her reaction. “And I think you know it. Both of you are hurting right now, Rainbow. Just… try?”

There was a long pause. For a minute, almost everything seemed to stop as Rainbow tried to convince herself that Twilight was right, that she had a duty to Scootaloo, a promise to keep. It was hard to think with a headache, though, and hers was growing stronger and stronger the more she thought.

The first question, and by far the easiest to answer, was whether she wanted to see Scootaloo again. She knew the answer before she could even finish the question—yes, yes and a thousand times yes. She needed to see Scootaloo; she needed to apologise, to make things right again.

The second question was more challenging: Did Scootaloo want to see her? Every part of her wanted to say no, that her surrogate sister wanted her gone after she had screwed up so badly, that she had no right to even think that Scoots might want to give her another chance. But years of experience had taught Rainbow that Twilight Sparkle was very rarely wrong, and in recent months was by far the one pony in Ponyville who could be trusted to understand friendship more than anypony else. Rainbow clung to that fact, ashamed that she could do so, because she knew she needed hope. And so her answer was yes.

It was the final question that threw Rainbow, that made her question herself and pause, uncertain and confused: Was she ready? To this, Rainbow had no easy answer, nopony whose advice she could take for granted and no clue how to even tell if she was ready or not. How did anypony know that sort of thing? Did they just wake up one morning and think ‘today is the day I shall conquer my long-standing fears’?

Rainbow bit her lip, the throbbing in her head becoming too much to bear. She couldn’t think about this right now. It was too soon.

“Please, Rainbow,” Twilight whispered. “Just consider it, for me… for Scootaloo.” Her head was pounding all the harder and some small, strangely familiar voice in the back of her head was telling her that it was Twilight’s fault, that if she were to shout and kick and push the unicorn away this agonising pain would be over and she would be okay again. She would be okay and could go flying, could be just awesome as she should be and not be stuck here with this egghead—

No. Twilight was her marefriend, not just some uncool egghead. She may be mushy and uncool at times, but Dash knew that it was just because she cared about her, right? She thought so, at least, although this pain made it so hard to think and she just needed it to go away and

“Alright,” she whispered, the pain subsiding slowly, like waves on the beach as the tide went down and Rainbow was sure that, eventually, the pain would be back. “I-I’ll try,” she added, her voice cracking. She coughed, her throat burning. Twilight pulled back and smiled at her, proud.

"Thank you."

Chapter 6: Garden Salad

To Rainbow Dash, who had never held down a relationship for longer than a few weeks at a time (her on-and-off arrangement with Gilda for the months after flight school did not, could not qualify as a relationship), five months of being with just one pony was an incredibly terrifying thought. It wasn’t that she was afraid of the commitment or anything like that—she was Rainbow Dash, the Element of Loyalty! She didn’t get scared. No, it was more that she was a teensy, tiny bit worried that she had no idea what she was getting into.

Normally, Rainbow would have relished the novelty, the challenge, but lately Rainbow hadn’t felt like striving for challenges. She hadn’t really felt like striving towards very much at all lately. Work, practice, and sleep; her life had gone from chaotic wonder to boring predictability within a week, and Rainbow couldn’t bring herself to care.

Perhaps that was why today was so frightening to her. Maybe it was being faced with something that she actually had to do that warred with her recent emptiness. Or, better still, the very idea of a day being “special” in some way when nothing, nothing at all could feel special… maybe it was her own apathy that frightened her.

Shuddering and wincing from the blinding pain in her head, Rainbow slowly pushed her way out of the cocoon of her quilt and fell to the floor, landing on the oak slats with a dull thud. There was a muted pain in her wing—it almost seemed as if she’d landed on it, not that Rainbow could really feel anything behind this Celestia-damned headache—and she couldn’t quite feel her hind legs. At least, that is, she couldn’t feel them less than she couldn’t really seem to feel anything at all these days.

Another night on the guest bed. She wondered, for a moment, how she always ended up there.

Stumbling her way to the kitchen, Rainbow almost collapsed against the work surface, glass in hoof, as she tried to pour herself a drink. They’d run out of cider the night before and Rainbow could remember how worried Twilight had looked, how worried she felt now; there had been a frightened glint in her eye, Rainbow thought.

Thinking through the headache was tough, and Rainbow wasn’t entirely sure it was worth the effort. The cider had kept it at bay, for a while.

Eventually, fumbling, she held the glass to her lips, the water cool and fresh. It almost stung to feel the dry skin moisten. She lapped at the water as she poured it, acting purely on instinct; the headache was fading and water was splashing across her face.

It took her a moment to realise when the glass was empty.

Swearing, Rainbow put the glass down and turned to face the small kitchen table. The moonlight shone in a beam through the window, just missing the table and casting eerie, half-there shadows across the wooden surface. Rainbow walked over to it, careful to make sure she had control of her limbs, before she sat down.

There was something important, and she’d forgotten it.

It was on the tip of her tongue. In fact, she was certain she’d already thought of it that morning. Was it something she needed to do today? She had to go to work, she knew, because she went to work every day and that was important because if she didn’t go to work then her work wouldn’t get done and if her work didn’t get done than all the nasty, horrible weather from the Everfree would get out and that could cause her friends some serious harm so she couldn’t possibly not go to work because she couldn’t let her friends get hurt, or even the friends of her friends, she guessed, because all of Ponyville would be in danger like if a whole thunderstorm were to come out of the forest, with its mad, angry clouds and loud, boomy thunder and then it could cause untold damage she remembered when that had last happened and it had been huge and scary and frightening and please daddy make the thunderstorm stop because it’s frightening me

Her head crashed against the table, thunder echoing out through the kitchen in a bust of sound and pain. She could feel her head still shaking from the collision, her headache beyond what she could imagine. Her left eye, though both were squeezed so tightly shut that they were hurting, seemed to be under some kind of searchlight. She opened it a fraction, squinting at the bright moon through the window, shining and just happening to catch her eye. She turned her head so that her left cheek lay against the table, her soft fur pressed firmly against the smooth wood.

She thought she had been sitting like that for about five minutes when she first noticed the patter of rain outside the window, though once she did she was certain it had been there all along. She was pretty sure there had been no rain scheduled that morning; once she got to work she’d be having words with Cloudkicker about that.

Five months. It seemed like such a long time ago, but then everything seemed like such a long time ago lately. Even getting out of bed this morning seemed to have been days ago, the mundane task of work and practice stretching on so long that she could barely even remember them. They were the same as yesterday, she figured. It was always the same. Blinking her eyes slowly, tiredly, Rainbow rose and pushed her way to the window, resting her chin on the sill and staring out at the evening sky. The moon was gone—it had gone hours ago, of course—and dark rainclouds covered the sky, a writhing mass of darkness that boiled in the heavens. The constant patter of rain had not gone away, but now she could hear the whistling wind and the groaning of the old tree as it swayed in the gusts.

“Rainbow?” Twilight’s voice was quiet, behind her, but definitely surprised. Rainbow frowned but otherwise didn’t move. Why would Twilight be surprised to find her here? She always came back to the library after work these days—she’d practically moved in by now, if it weren’t for the hoofful of her most precious possessions.

Outside, the rain continued to pour. It drummed against the walls of the library, against the pavements and the streets. Its sound was muted but constant, a never-ending patter of white noise, of raindrops on her ears that battered down upon the headache and kept it at bay.

She was pretty sure that, somewhere in the sound of the storm, Twilight had spoken, but the mare’s voice was drowned out. She heard the sound, but not the words. They weren’t words, really, just noises in the dark and the rain and the emptiness.

“Rainbow!” Jolting awake, her eyes opening, Rainbow turned to see Twilight standing before her. Her marefriend looked concerned, and frightened, much like she had when the cider ran out, though the swelling, deep purple blotch by her eye was an ungainly addition that kept her whole face out of proportion. It pushed her eyelid upwards, making her squint through one eye in what looked like a very painful wink.

“Oh, hey Twi,” Rainbow said, her gaze drifting back towards the storm. “I’ve just been watching the clouds. They’re really pretty, y’know? It’s nice to just sit back after a day’s cloud-pushing and admire the handiwork of the team.”

“Yeah,” Twilight said, quiet and unsure. Her voice was bristling with a nervous kind of tension. Rainbow was sure her marefriend wanted to say something else, so she just stayed quiet and still by the window, giving Twilight the time and space she needed. After a few moments, however, she could hear the disgruntled sigh and retreating hoofsteps on the wooden floor, and the tension vanished in the breath.

Rainbow Dash had the strangest feeling that she was forgetting something.

“Rainbow?” The call was a question. It was asking for a lot of things: Rainbow’s attention was one of them, but Twilight’s tone made it sound as if she was frightened of the response, almost as if she thought that Rainbow wouldn’t give it to her. It was that thought, if anything, that made Rainbow Dash sit up and turn and really look at her marefriend, make sure her glance never faltered, never wavered. She needed to communicate her attention to Twilight because Twilight needed her.

Twilight had been crying. No, not had been—was. It was barely noticeable but there, right there in the corner of her eye Rainbow could see the tears welling up, overflowing every now and then and trickling their way down lavender fur. One streak made a darker line across Twilight’s bruised upper cheek, bringing the damage around it all the more clearly into focus.

She was shaking, too. Rainbow did her best not to react in her confusion, well aware that Twilight would probably need her to be strong. It was her duty, after all—her duty to Equestria, to her friends, to Twilight.

“Rainbow, I’m getting worried about you,” Twilight said, her voice barely above a whisper, “and I don’t know how to help you anymore. I’ve been trying so. hard. to help you through this but nothing I do s-seems to be doing anything.” Twilight was staring at the ground now, her carefully punctuated voice trembling. She was tense, ready to turn and run at a second’s notice if the angling of her legs was anything to go by…

Why was Twilight frightened?

Rainbow took a tentative step towards Twilight; the mare took a cautious step backwards, a fraction of the size of Rainbow’s stride but still a step back nonetheless. Tired and confused and more than a little worried herself, Rainbow fell back on her tried and the tested methods: the direct approach.

“Why are you scared?”

Twilight looked up, her expression a flat stare that Rainbow had only ever seen Princess Celestia pull off, the kind of stare that looks deep into the darkest parts of your soul and makes you recall every shame. Her head throbbed all the more violently, and Rainbow tried not to wince.

“You really don’t know?” It was the softest of whispers, but it carried the weight of a hundred worlds. Rainbow was confused and her head hurt and why should she know that what had happened her head was hurting and why how when why hurt how why pain why

No. No, she didn’t, even though the cold, demanding stare of her marefriend said otherwise. She couldn’t remember, at least, because now she was sure she should have known. Why didn’t she?

Twilight’s eyes were widening with comprehension, while Rainbow’s brow furrowed in confusion. They mirrored each other. It was almost comforting.

“There’s nothing to say about it until you’ve remembered,” Twilight said, her tone dismissive. “Just… forget I said anything.”

Twilight turned to the counter, her horn glowing as she pulled bowls out of the cupboards, chopping salad ingredients with a sharp knife. Rainbow knew she didn’t need to face the counter to know what she was doing.

“Do you want something to eat?” Twilight asked. Something was off about her voice but Rainbow couldn’t quite recognise it for what it was. “I figured we should eat together tonight, i-if you want to?”

“Yeah, Twi,” Rainbow said, turning to look out the window once more. The rain had slowed to a quiet drizzle, less an all-encompassing noise than a distracting hiss in the background. “I’d like that. I feel like I’ve been spending the last few weeks in here, yet I never spend time with you. Have we just kept missing each other for half a month?”

“I guess so.” The chopping of the knife sped up, louder now and more regular. The soft sound of ripping vegetables, crisp yet still fleshy, was punctuated by dull thuds of metal on wood, the bell-like tinkling of magic a harmony. “I guess so,” Twilight repeated, and Rainbow could hear the scraping sound of the knife blade on the wood and the gentle drop of salad into bowls; it sounded wrong.

Rainbow turned and took a seat at the table as Twilight, smiling with dead eyes, sat opposite, laying a bowl in front of each of them. Rainbow raised a fork in her hoof, stabbing a leaf of lettuce, swirling it around the bowl. She looked up to see Twilight watching her closely, spoon untouched.

“Twi?” Rainbow asked. Not waiting for a response (though the slow blink and gentle tilt of her head were more than response enough), Rainbow carried on. “What can’t I remember?”

Twilight laughed bitterly.

“You really don’t want to know,” she said, shaking her head. “Trust me, Rainbow. You haven’t been yourself lately, not since Scoo—”

“—Rainbow?”

Rainbow Dash blinked and turned her head slowly to one side, her neck stiff and uncomfortable. Twilight was standing next to her, her bruised cheek right next to Rainbow’s eye. “Huh?”

“Oh thank Celestia.” Twilight’s legs were wrapped around her neck, her muzzle pressed against her jaw. She could feel Twilight’s lips moving against her coat, kissing her over and over. A string tugged at her heart, like a thread of cotton tied to a boulder.

She twisted her neck and kissed Twilight’s cheek, just below the bruise in case it still pained her. “What’s the matter, gorgeous?” she whispered, feeling Twilight chuckle against her, shaking.

“Nothing,” Twilight said eventually, pulling back and looking Rainbow square in the eyes. “Nothing is going to be the matter.”

She kissed Rainbow then, their muzzles pressed together in fierce desire, cotton on a boulder. Images flooded Rainbow’s mind, memories of a time long past yet not so long ago, of lazy afternoons spent lying on Twilight’s bed, holding her close. Memories of nights in, reading Daring Do together by the fireside, and of lunches out—the picnic they’d had that first night, all those months ago, on the hill outside Ponyville with the view of the mountain in the distance, the trees on the slopes making way for a clearing on the top. Each memory was another thread, each tugging twice as hard as the last.

The kiss changed. As thread after thread worked their way around Rainbow’s heart, slowly but surely the boulder, that had remained so unmoved for weeks, weighing her heart down, began to jostle, tilting and rocking. It wasn’t much movement, little more than swaying back and forth on the spot, but after a fortnight of stillness any emotion felt more powerful than Rainbow could remember.

Rainbow needed Twilight, because she was remembering. All those afternoons at work that seemed to just fade into nothingness when she had tried to remember the details, all those mornings she woke before dawn yet could never quite remember the sun rising when she went to bed so very late at night, all those evenings she had spent in the library’s kitchen, drinking cider from a mug and hoping the headaches would simply pass… All that time, Twilight had been there. Every night, Twilight tried to keep her sane, to keep her sober, to keep her going. Twilight was the one pony who had tried to help her and she needed Twilight.

Twilight had been the one who tried to calm her down when she started sobbing uncontrollably at night, afraid and embarrassed and hurting. Twilight had been the one who would hide the cider when she wasn’t looking, stopping her from drinking herself into a stupour. Twilight had been the one who stood between her and the cupboard when she realised what had happened, who had stood her ground, never used force or magic against her, even when she’d raised her hoof in the air…

Rainbow pulled back, her lip trembling as she stared in horror at the swelling bruise beneath Twilight’s eye. Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes brimming with tears. Twilight’s face morphed from shocked through confused until finally landing at understanding all in a matter of seconds, and she smiled reassuringly.

She could remember. Each second of the blow played through her mind: the exact feel of her hoof striking against fur and bone, catching at an angle; the sound of the hit, a sickening cracking sound that she heard over and over again, echoing like thunder in her mind; the exact look on Twilight’s face, frightened but bold, scared but brave, surprised but resolute.

Tentatively, Rainbow lifted a hoof and held it, shaking, an inch away from Twilight’s face, right above the bruise. Twilight, still smiling, her wide, knowing eyes disappointed, took hold of Rainbow’s hoof in her own and gently guided it forwards, touching it gently against her cheek.

A sob worked its way up Rainbow’s throat, and she shook.

“Rainbow.” Twilight spoke her name softly, with care and kindness. She didn’t deserve her name to be spoken like that. She’d hurt them both, she didn’t deserve anything. She lowered her hoof from Twilight’s cheek.

“Twi, I—” She stopped and shook her head. “I… I hit you.”

Twilight nodded: judge, jury and executioner.

“A-and y-ou… kissed me?”

Twilight raised a hoof and held Rainbow’s jaw steady. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against Rainbow’s, before lifting her head and kissing Rainbow briefly on the nose. She smiled softly ran a hoof through Rainbow’s mane.

“I realised something,” she explained softly. “You’d been frozen still for what must have been about ten minutes there, Rainbow, and nothing I was doing was snapping you out of it. When you finally moved I was so… so relieved.

“And maybe I shouldn’t have been so worried about you. Maybe I shouldn’t care. Maybe, just maybe, I should want you gone and out of my life forever.” Twilight smiled, kissing Rainbow again. “But the simple fact is, I don’t.”

“Still,” Rainbow said, her head reeling, “I hit you. I’m not supposed to hit you. Hay, I’m supposed to stop other ponies from doing that.”

Twilight chuckled and rested her good cheek against Rainbow’s.

“I don’t know if I’ve forgiven you yet,” she said, her tone a little more serious. “But I do know that I will, in time. Because I know you didn’t mean it, and I know you, Rainbow Dash. I know how much you’re going to beat yourself up over this and I would be a terrible marefriend if I didn’t do everything I could to make you see that you’re not a horrible pony.”

Rainbow raised her eyebrows.

“I never said I thought I was a horrible pony,” she said, just letting the sentence trail.

“You’re thinking it, though,” Twilight added. After a pause, Rainbow inclined her head in affirmation. “You’re not, Rainbow. You’re one of the most loving, caring, loyal, good ponies I know. I lo—I love being with you.” Twilight’s cheeks turned dark, the edges of the bruise blending in with her fur. Rainbow smirked despite herself and gave Twilight her best ‘are you sure that’s what you meant to say?’ look; Twilight blushed deeper, her eyes turning to the floor. "I know we've had our bad days, but these last five months have been—"

Rainbow reached forward and lifted Twilight’s jaw with her hoof, catching her lips with her own. Twilight let out a high-pitched squeak of surprise before melting into the kiss, her throat vibrating with short, uncontrolled moans. Rainbow reached out her wings, tracing the tips of her feathers along Twilight’s sides, making her shiver in delight. Within moments, Rainbow felt the comfortable push of magic on her shoulders and she stepped backwards with it as they rose onto their hind legs, Twilight pinning her to the wooden wall, tracing her hooves down Rainbow’s sides. Their coats rubbing against each other with each small movement, now it was Rainbow who was moaning against Twilight’s lips, her whole self, body, mind and soul, tangled up and pressed against Twilight, headache long forgotten.

The door swung open, creaking a little on its hinges. Two heads turned to look at the sound, their bodies not quite reacting fast enough to pull themselves apart or away from the wall. Spike stood in the doorframe, staring at them with wide eyes.

He blinked.

Rainbow and Twilight held each other, frozen in mutual awkwardness.

“I’ll just… uh… leave you two to it,” Spike said, bolting out of the door as fast as his little legs could carry him. The door swung shut with a squeak and a dull thud.

Slowly, sadly, the two mares disentangled themselves. “Dinner?” Twilight suggested, grimacing nervously. Rainbow sighed and smiled, nodding, before images of her hoof on Twilight’s cheek came crashing into her head. She glanced at the cupboard in question.

“Let me just take care of something first,” she said, trying not to notice how Twilight’s worried eyes followed her across the room. Steeling herself, she reached down and opened the cupboard—the barrel of cider, two-thirds empty, sat in the dark. She tried to lift it, wrapping her hooves around the sides to get a better grip, and was glad (if somewhat disappointed) when the wood in front of her face began to glow pink and lift into the air. Rainbow guided the barrel over to the sink, hanging over just a fraction.

Rainbow lifted her hoof up to the barrel’s tap, pausing a moment. Something didn’t feel right.

“May I?” she asked, turning to Twilight. The unicorn sighed.

“It’s a shame,” she said. “It’ll be months until the next batch, and that’s my last barrel.” Twilight walked over to Rainbow Dash’s side and leant her head gently on the pegasus’ neck, kissing her coat lightly, just the once. “Do what you need to.”

Rainbow twisted her hoof, turning the tap until it was wide open. She watched the amber liquid pour from the barrel, a swirling vortex that drained down the sink. As the liquid flowed out a part of her felt almost lighter, as if she were draining the cider from her heart.

Eventually the last drop fell from the edge of the tap, splashing in the thin, static puddle below. Rainbow ran the water for a second, watching as it drained with it the very last of the cider, and she smiled. She tilted her muzzle down and kissed the very top of Twilight’s head, her lips lingering in the strands of violet mane.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice almost lost in the weaving fibers.

“I know,” Twilight replied. And for that one moment, as she stood and held Twilight close, her headache gone and her apology given, Rainbow felt the boulder rise.

Chapter 7: Daisy Sandwiches

Applejack,
I’m having a little get-together tonight at my place, 'cause I figured I never have you guys around, y’know?
Hope to see you there,
RD

None of her friends had shown up yet—not even Pinkie Pie, who was the one pony Rainbow thought she could always count on to be around to cheer her up when she needed it. She wasn’t entirely sure why she expected anything different, not after last night, but Rainbow still sat dutifully at the door of her cloud home, staring and waiting.

They’d come eventually, right? They had to. They were her friends—the six of them were the Elements of Harmony, who stuck together through thin and thick, whose friendship was the one thing that had stopped Equestria from falling into the darkness of destruction so many times. They shared a bond more powerful than anything, bound since fillyhood by the sonic rainboom. Maybe they hadn’t known each other all that long—and maybe they’d gotten along for even less time—but Rainbow knew deep in her heart that they would come.

She’d sent out invitations that morning, dropping them off with the mailmare on her way to work, and she’d paid extra to make sure that Ditzy delivered that mail as soon as she could. They were simple and plain, nothing like Pinkie Pie’s amazingly decorated invitations made out of shiny, perfectly-folded card and embellished with the neatest, most careful hoof-writing Rainbow could recall, but Rainbow wasn’t Pinkie, was she? So what if her invites were messily written on whatever scraps of paper she could find, hastily finished before she could stain the ink, the bin-full of scrunched-up paper balls a testament to the time and effort she had put into making each one right, even if they weren’t perfect.

Each was individual, too, a touch she’d learned from Pinkie over the years, although one invitation for each of her five closest friends was no challenge at all compared to the monumental task of personalised invitations for everypony in Ponyville and after all her hard work Rainbow Dash was filled with an even greater appreciation for Pinkie’s party-planning skills.

It had been about an hour since she finished all her cooking (not that she’d tried anything particularly inventive. She hadn’t really been in the mood to try new things today, and had spent her allotted practice time over her lunch break simply working on the most mundane parts of her routine, getting each little part of the flight down) and Rainbow hadn’t been entirely sure what to do. She wanted to be ready for her friends’ arrival, so at first she’d done some last-minute tidying, then taken a few minutes trying to get her old sound system up and working. It had been a nice, distracting kind of nostalgia, the kind that was so engrossing that it felt as if whole days had passed while you tried your best to remember which cables plugged in where and which button turned the stupid thing on.

Even that had passed, much to Rainbow’s dismay, and so she found herself sitting in her own hallway, staring up at the door in expectation. Stray thoughts wandered through her head, from worries that her friends wouldn’t arrive to the ribbing she would undoubtedly receive from Applejack if she were the first to arrive. Rainbow shook her head to clear her mind of the image of her in artificial dog-ears, panting and running around Applejack.

Even though she knew her friends would be arriving, Rainbow couldn’t help but feel a little frustrated. She’d sent out the invitations early enough, hadn’t she? Surely her friends could at least show up on time. It would certainly be better than leaving her constantly worrying about whether or not they would even make it.

Rarity,
I thought I’d invite all the girls round to mine for dinner tonight. NOT FORMAL Dress code is smart casual.
See you later,
Dash

Eventually, Rainbow rose and decided to stretch her legs, aching as they were from being underneath her for so long. She shook out her wings as she rose and was suddenly filled with the urge to go for a short fly, before dismissing the thought—she was waiting for her friends, she couldn’t just leave them waiting on her porch because she decided to stretch her wings on a whim.

Instead she walked to her living room, striding purposefully to the window and leaning her head on the cloud walls as she looked out into the dark, the soft, fluffy structure sinking slightly beneath her weight, curving around her cheek. The stars twinkled in the sky, pinpoints of light that seemed both comforting and yet so, so far away. There was a cold distance to the night that Rainbow had never quite understood, and looking up at the blackness Rainbow always felt unimaginably small. Despite all the limits she had pushed in her life, she’d always known that she could never reach the stars.

The sky was clear and quiet above Ponyville tonight: no rogue storms from the Everfree for the night team to deal with, no Pinkie Pie party for streams of pegasi to fly to (though Rainbow rarely got to see it, making it her priority to be one of the first guests to arrive at any of Pinkie’s parties). The town below was already falling asleep.

She hadn’t wanted to be alone, and Rainbow was suddenly struck with a sense of just quite how alone she was. The whole point of inviting her friends over was for them to be a distraction for her, for them to take her mind off the pain and the loss and—

No. She wasn’t thinking about it, that was why her friends were coming. In fact, Rainbow realised that was probably why they should have been there a whole hour ago,to make sure that she didn’t have to think about Scootaloo.

Even the filly’s name hurt to think about. It had only been a day; how could things have changed so much in one short day? How could she have gone from hiding a quiet, proud smile every time she even heard of her surrogate sister to being unsure that she could even call the little filly that anymore? Why did that thought hurt so much?

Where were they? Pinkie Pie, at least, would never be late to a friend’s party, even if it was a boring old dinner party rather than one of the fun, night-long parties she held. She could almost understand if the others had work commitments, but they needed to eat, didn’t they?

She sighed. It was no good, she had no idea when her friends would be getting there and sitting by the window moping was not going to make a good first impression for the evening. She pulled herself up from her slouched position, getting to her hooves and began doing the only thing she could think of: pacing the room, her hooves working their familiar way back and forth across the soft floor.

Every second she was anticipating a knock to come echoing from the hallway and it took all her willpower not to turn and bolt back to the window to scan the skies for any sign of her friends. Instead she forced herself to keep pacing, the structured, rhythmic movement starting to influence even her thoughts.

Her friends would get here soon. When they did, they’d have dinner. They’d laugh and talk, and keep her mind clear. She needed to keep her mind clear; she was worried that she might fail. She was worried about what would happen if she did.

Her stomach grumbled, a drawn-out rolling of her muscles that drew her out of her pacing. She stopped still, her thoughts turning to the meal spread out in the next room. It had been an hour, after all, and Rainbow hadn’t eaten the largest lunch that day.

She stood and listened for a moment, giving her friends a few more seconds to arrive, before wandering carefully and slowly to the dining room.

Fluttershy,
Do you want to come over tonight? I’ve invited the girls, it’ll be great! I’ve made dinner.
Hope you can make it,
Rainbow

It took Rainbow Dash approximately ten minutes to mull over the decision to start eating without her friends, and about ten seconds to wolf down a sandwich once she’d decided.

It was refreshing to feel the texture of bread between her teeth, the flavours filling her mouth almost at once. At the same time, despite her long preparations, Rainbow felt a surge of guilt as soon as the bread touched her tongue, a deep longing for things to be as they were and for the dinner table to have been untouched for her friends. It was too late now and, besides, the food was good and she wasn’t going to eat all of it.

As she sat and chewed, Rainbow wondered for the first time about what her friends might actually be doing rather than simply complaining about them not being here. Rarity was most likely working on some huge order or other (didn’t she say she’d been asked to make something for Sapphire Shores? Rainbow could hardly remember.) Applejack could be working the orchards, but with the sun set so far below the horizon already and the winter months soon to set in, Rainbow was less than certain that this was the case. Twilight was almost sure to be researching, as she had been all week long…

Pinkie was an anomaly, of course, and Rainbow could never even pretend to predict the bubbly earth pony’s ways. She was as unpredictable as the little toy Twilight had been playing with on her desk the week before—the pendulum with two arms that swang round and round like a windmill but sometimes almost stopped in place for no clear reason. Despite that, Rainbow thought that if there was one mare in all of Ponyville who could be counted on to spontaneously show up when somepony needed company, it was Pinkie Pie. So where was she?

Rainbow was snapped from her reverie by a thudding sound from the hall. Her eyes wide and eager, she leaped up from the table, piece of sandwich still clasped in her mouth, unchewed. The magical whir of Tank’s motor made her lose hope before she even reached that hall and, unsurprisingly, she found the tortoise floating around the hallway, bashing into furniture—it looked like he was asleep, although with Tank it was always hard to tell. Despite everything that told her otherwise, Rainbow still opened the door just a fraction to check. Her porch was bare.

It was as she carried Tank upstairs, switching his motor off once she was sure that he was asleep and tucking him into his basket that Rainbow realised that Fluttershy was probably very busy at this time of year; she knew that, sooner or later, she would have to prepare Tank for his annual hibernation, and could only imagine how much work Fluttershy was having to do with all the animals she cared for. Rainbow smiled and tucked Tank under his blanket, unstrapping his harness and leaving it by his side so he didn’t accidentally nudge it on again.

She sat for a while by Tank’s basket, staring out of the window as she idly ran a hoof across the back of his shell. She wondered how long it had been since she spent time just with Tank; she certainly hadn’t very often in the past, but since she and Twi had gotten together she thought she might have been ignoring the little tortoise more and more. Sure, she’d take him for weekly pet playdates, and she’d take him down to the library to visit Owlowiscious when she visited Twilight, but she very rarely spent any quality time with him.

Perhaps that was something that had to change. Rainbow smiled, thinking about the time she could spend out flying with Tank, enjoying the chance to just fly for the sake of flying with a friend, rather than for practice or work. It would be a nice way to take her mind off everything.

Pinkie,
I know it’s not gonna be as good as one of your parties, but I wanted to have all the girls over at mine for dinner tonight. Be there?
It’d be nice to see See you,
RD.

She was almost dozing off in her daydreaming when the loud, sharp thud echoed through the house. Shaken, Rainbow stood, before freezing in place, looking down at Tank. She leaned down and gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head, smiling at his sleeping form before she bolted down the stairs and unlatched the door.

Twilight was standing on her porch, biting her lip nervously. Rainbow was so overwhelmed with joy that she threw her forelegs around Twilight almost at once, nearly toppling the two of them out of the doorway and off the house. Twilight looked extremely nervous as she regained her balance.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Rainbow cried contentedly, her voice a little shaky and dry from under-use. She chuckled. “I may have got started on the food before everypony could arrive.”

“It’s no problem,” Twilight said, now with her feet firmly on the cloud. She hugged Rainbow back and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m sorry the others couldn’t make it. They’d have told you themselves, but…” Twilight looked around, gesturing at the height. Rainbow’s eyes widened and Twilight burst out laughing. “Let me guess, you forgot that it would be difficult for most of us to get up here, right?”

“No,” Rainbow said defensively, her cheeks warm. “No, I just… uh… yeah, I forgot,” she finished lamely, muttering as Twilight’s laughter grew.

“Well, be glad I still have my balloon,” Twilight said, nodding to the vehicle tethered just beside Rainbow’s house. “It took me a while to get it all set up, which is why I’m late. Fluttershy would have flown up, but with all the animals getting ready for Winter…”

“It’s cool,” Rainbow said. “Tank hibernates, so I know the feeling. It can get really chaotic near winter time just with him; how does Fluttershy cope?”

Rainbow stepped backwards and held the door wide, indicating for Twilight to come inside. Smiling and laughing, Twilight stepped past her, walking a little way into the hall before turning around.

“So what’s for dinner?” Twilight asked. “Because if it’s not better than Spike’s soup, I might just have to go home early.” Her voice was teasing, but a small part of Rainbow’s mind wasn’t quite certain that she didn’t mean it. She laughed along anyway, if more at the face that Twilight pulled than the joke itself.

“I just put together a few platefuls of sandwiches, some hay fries, salad… nothing fancy.” Rainbow stepped into the dining room, Twilight following behind her. She took a seat at the table and was surprised when Twilight took the one next to her rather than the one opposite. “Help yourself,” she said, gesturing to the table. “That is, if it’s not worse than Spike’s soup…”

Twilight laughed and leaned against Rainbow, curling up into the pegasus’ side. She picked up a sandwich and levitated it to her mouth, nibbling on it slowly as she adjusted herself for comfort. Rainbow wrapped a wing and a leg around her, quickly kissing the top of her head, before grabbing a sandwich of her own.

They sat awhile in silence, slowly eating their fill. Rainbow snuck glances down at Twilight every now and again, watching in rapt fascination as her marefriend ate the tiniest little bites from the sandwich, her eyes closed. She may have been a mare of action and adventure, but Rainbow knew she’d rather spend all day just watching Twilight eat than spend the day at work, even on one of the rare days that work provided a challenge.

“Rainbow?” Rainbow looked down again to see Twilight looking up at her with wide, curious eyes. “Do you want to talk about last night?”

“No,” Rainbow said, instinctively and sharply. She saw Twilight wince and softened her tone. “Sorry, I just… it’s too soon.”

“It didn’t go well, then?” Rainbow shook her head, closing her eyes, and she could hear Twilight’s sharp intake of breath. She felt a leg snake around her back and squeeze, and she gave Twilight a squeeze in return. “I take it you wanted everypony here for company?”

Rainbow sat in silence. She might have been dating Twilight for a while now, much longer than any serious relationship she’d had before, but she wasn’t convinced she was quite comfortable being open and honest with her about this. Frankly, the idea of being open and honest about her feelings terrified Rainbow.

“I guess?” she said eventually. “I mean, it’s nice not to be lonely when bad things happen, right?” That still sounded cool—it was the kind of way she would word mushy advice whenever Scootaloo needed somepony to look—

Twilight leaned up, clearly straining under the effort, and pressed her lips to Rainbow’s. “What was that for?”

“Do I have to have a reason to kiss my marefriend?” Twilight replied coyly, a light smile tugging at her lips. “I might just happen to like kissing her.”

“Twi, you have a reason for doing everything,” Rainbow said, rolling her eyes. Twilight gasped in faux-protest. “What’s your checklist for tomorrow morning?”

“Breakfast; locate missing library folder; re-organise history section; shelve returns… hey!” Rainbow burst out laughing at the pout on Twilight face, the little frown that came with being shown she was wrong. “I just like planning things, that’s all,” she added sulkily.

“I know,” Rainbow said, with an almost sing-song, ‘I told you so’ voice. “It’s one of the things I like about you. You’re always prepared, and you always know what you want to do.”

“Should be doing,” Twilight corrected. “I’m never sure what I want to be doing, and when I am it’s almost certainly something I don’t have time for. Like reading up on leyline theory, or creating a new, efficient library catalogue, or coming up here for dinner.”

It took a moment for all that to sink in for Rainbow. She helped herself to another hooful of hay fries while she thought.

“Wait a minute,” she said, after waiting what seemed an eternity to swallow, “you’re telling me you don’t have time to be here right now.”

Twilight shrugged.

“I’ve got a lot to be doing,” she said. “Usually I’m good at doing what I should be doing instead of what I want to do—it’s why I’m so good with my checklists—but when it comes to you, I tend to be pretty bad at that.”

“Still,” Rainbow said, “I don’t want to keep you here when you should be doing other things just because I was feeling a little lonely.” Twilight reached up and kissed her again, smiling as she dropped away.

“I want to be here, Rainbow,” she said. “I care about you. That and spending time with you is way more fun than an evening of study for a report Celestia wants me to review. It’s not even interesting.”

They sat in silence for some time more, enjoying each other’s company. Every now and again, Rainbow would lean down and kiss the top of Twilight’s head; it was comforting to be able to give that kind of affection, like a sign that there was someone you cared about there with you and they weren’t going away.

“Do you want to move in with me?”

The question came out of nowhere and Rainbow wasn’t entirely sure she’d even heard anything. She took a moment before looking down at Twilight who was, as expected, looking up at her with hopeful eyes and her bottom lip chewed lightly between her teeth. She considered asking Twilight to repeat the question, not entirely certain she’d heard correctly, but as she was making up her mind Twilight spoke again. “I mean, not completely move in because there’s stuff you need up here not to mention all your stuff for Tank’s hibernation is up here, but if you wanted to spend nights down in the library as more than just a one-off thing then what I guess I’m trying to say is that—”

Rainbow leaned down and caught Twilight’s lips with hers, pressing her muzzle up close against Twilight’s and kissing her with all the passion she could muster. She couldn’t think of a better way to say ‘yes’.

“Of course,” Rainbow whispered as they pulled apart, and it was Twilight’s turn to kiss Rainbow in response, and there was no better way to be thanked.

My dearestDear Twilight,
I’m having aI’ve invitedI’m hav Please come over tonight. I need you.
LoYourDas Yours,
Rain Dash

Chapter 8: Quiche aux Provençale

This evening was a second chance, Rainbow decided. Maybe last time she had visited this house she had been less than the perfect guest she ought to have been—or maybe it was simply her bad luck, she’d never quite managed to figure out how the reaction had been quite so horrifyingly bad—but this time was a chance for Rainbow Dash to prove herself. She had promised Scootaloo that she would be there for her, through thin and thick, as somepony to keep her safe. If doing that meant making a good impression on the filly’s family, then so be it.

It didn’t mean that she had to like them, though in fairness Rainbow tended to have an irrationally strong dislike for anypony who branded her ‘lazy’ and ‘a slob’ before even meeting her. If anything, Rainbow figured, her reputation as the Element of Loyalty, one of the saviours of Equestria on countless occasions, should mean that nopony would consider her a lazy until at the very soonest their second or third meeting.

She didn’t like the house, that much was for certain. It was large and oppressive and old, built in a style that predated most of Ponyville. It was said to be one of the oldest buildings in town, although knowing how old Ponyville was made that claim much less impressive—Rainbow figured the house was built to look old, even then.

It was no place for a young pegasus to be growing up. It might have been okay if the fields around the back of the house were regularly filled with clouds and if Scootaloo were allowed to go out and practice gliding and falling whenever she was free, but Rainbow knew the kind of ponies who lived here. They were the kind who paid off the weather team to only bring clouds out over the field when it was in need of water, and to otherwise ‘leave the sky above the meadow clear and bright so as to ensure the view remained just as it should be’.

Ponies shouldn’t just be able to pay off the weather team—after all, she and the rest of the team leads had undergone so much training in the regulation needed to maintain a healthy ecosystem and keep the water flowing that it should be impossible for the wishes of a handful of ponies to influence it because they disliked the view of a single cloud in the sky. Farmers had a right to complain—they needed rain for their crops, and the right amount of light and shade—but the rich were a completely different story.

It was one of the things Rainbow hated most about her job, that her superiors always seemed to turn a blind eye when a large bag of bits was passed under the table.

She was hovering at the end of a long driveway, looking up at the house that stood proud and tall at the end. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to be here, but frankly this wasn’t her choice to make; she’d made her choice months before when she promised Scootaloo she’d be there for her, and now she had to live with the consequences.

She took a deep breath and considered flying straight down the driveway, but decided better of it. For a start, she figured Scootaloo’s parents wouldn’t like a flashy entrance, especially after last time when they claimed she was a dangerous influence. And so instead she found herself landing, gently, and walking down the long drive one step at a time.

It was time to think, at least, and Celestia knew she needed it.

She had to make today’s impression count. Obviously she had to make it clear that Scootaloo was her first priority, that her sister’s safety and well-being were of utmost importance to her. But she also had to make sure she corrected the bad impression she had made before, even if it might have been a teensy bit right. She needed to convince these ponies that she was responsible and mature, but more importantly she needed to show them that she could be humble.

She hated to say it, but she figured she’d have to start with an apology.

Yes, if she apologised for her behaviour first that would show that she could be mature and humble. It was also the right thing to do: she had clearly upset and offended these ponies and, though she certainly didn’t mean to, she had to recognise that for Scootaloo’s sake. Besides, it wouldn’t damage her reputation to apologise, would it? If anything, it would serve to make her seem a little less self-serving, which was always one of the things she’d hoped her reputation could do without.

She looked left and right as she walked down the path, not quite able to look at the house ahead. She could see a similar house some way off in the distance, and she knew it was the home of Filthy Rich, whose daughter had been bullying Scootaloo for longer than Rainbow Dash had known the filly. It had taken all her willpower when she heard about that not to fly straight to Rich’s house, bash on the door and teach that kid a lesson. Violence, she knew, was not the right response to violence. She didn’t want to make things worse for Scootaloo.

She’d spoken with Cheerilee instead. See? She’d been mature and responsible, and she hadn’t even been trying to impress some stuck-up, rich ponies who think they’re better than everypony else just because they can buy a nice view while everypony else has to deal with a cloud blocking the sun over the town square.

She shook her head. Thinking those sorts of things wasn’t going to help. The only thing that could help her now would be actually being the kind of pony they expected to see as Scootaloo’s sister.

Cheerilee hadn’t been much help, of course—she’d already been told of the brat’s bullying, so many times. Rarity, Applejack, and even Big Macintosh had all come in to speak with her on the issue and she’d said the same thing to them that she’d said to Rainbow Dash: she’d see what she could do, but outside of school there was little she could do. And so, slowly, Diamond’s bullying had moved away from the playground, but it had never gone away.

Rainbow sighed as the shadow of the house fell across her eyes, the sun disappearing behind the tall, grey roof with its strange, twisted sculptures. She was nearly there now—the driveway widened and split into a rounded, open space, presumably for carriages to park in and drop off guests for parties. Rainbow wouldn’t know—the only party she’d ever been to like that was the Grand Galloping Gala, and that had taken place in the Royal Palace, which was very different and (dare she say it?) much more appealing.

She was growing impatient: her slow walk had picked up to a brisk trot, and Rainbow wasn’t entirely sure she was pleased with how soon she’d be arriving by the doors. Still, the servant had already seen her (who even had servants these days? As far as Rainbow was aware, even the Princesses had the bare minimum staff needed to run the castle, and most of them were there to work for the Guard these days) so she couldn’t slow down now. Plastering a fake smile on her face, she caught the stallion’s eye; he nodded, once, before staring back into the distance.

“Miss Rainbow Dash?” he asked, his voice gravelly and monotonous. Rainbow nodded, smile still in place. “You’re expected in the drawing room. I believe Miss Scootaloo will be fetching you herself.” His emotions showed for the first time as he uttered Scootaloo’s name, and Rainbow wanted to punch him for it. She’d never heard someone speak with such disdain for another pony, certainly not somepony they were meant to be serving. It was as if one of the night guard had rolled their eyes and said ‘Ugh, Luna,’ with a tone of disgust.

In a way, it was quite funny that the couple had shown any interest in Rainbow Dash at all. After all, none of them were really Scootaloo’s family: Rainbow was her sister by choice, and these two had simply picked her out of the foster care system.

She needed to stop thinking of what these two ponies had done as somehow bad for Scootaloo. She tried to imagine that she had grown up without parents, surrounded by constant change, never knowing which of the adults around you would be there the next month. What would it be like to be adopted? To finally have somepony in your life who you could call family, who you knew would be there a month down the line?

Rainbow frowned. If that was all adoption was, Scootaloo hadn’t needed it. She knew Rainbow would always be there for her… didn’t she?

“Rainbow Dash!”

She looked up to see Scootaloo bounding down the hallway, her eyes wide and gleaming. Rainbow couldn’t help but grin back at her sister.

“I’m so glad you came!” she added, grabbing hold of Rainbow’s forelegs and hugging as tightly as her little legs would allow. Rainbow nuzzled her head affectionately. “I thought you’d have been scared off by last time.”

“Me? Scared?” Rainbow huffed in indignation, her expression mockingly indignant. “I don’t get scared. And even if I did, it’s my job as your big sister to stick around whether I’m scared or not. It’s what sisters do.”

Scootaloo released Rainbow’s legs, still grinning widely.

“Come on,” she said, turning and trotting down the hallway, “I’ll show you to the drawing room.” Rainbow followed the little filly down the hall, almost having to trot herself to keep up with her. It was hard not to be just a little perked up by Scootaloo’s enthusiasm, no matter how much she wanted to keep on disliking the place.

A little way down the hall (and it just seemed to keep going and going, so much so that Rainbow could barely stand looking up at it, keeping her eyes on the carpet as she walked) Scootaloo pulled all of a sudden into a doorway. Behind the wide, tall doors was a grand room, filled with tapestries and old portraits. It seemed somehow bare, though perhaps it was all the space—the ceiling was too high to feel like a normal room, yet not as cavernously tall as the hallways in the palaces and castles Rainbow had seen, stuck in a kind of limbo between the homely and the inspiring that fell flat and awkward.

Down the centre of the room ran a long, oak table surrounded by high-backed chairs. Rainbow followed Scootaloo down the far side of the table, where she had been struggling to pull back a chair for her. Smiling, Rainbow gave her a hoof, reaching the top of the chair that the little filly couldn’t to make sure the heavy wood didn’t fall on top of her.

She pulled the chair next to her out, too, and Scootaloo sat on it with a grateful smile.

Opposite Scootaloo sat her mother, who was knitting what looked like a rainbow of grayscale into a scarf—if she squinted, Rainbow thought she might have even seen a shade of beige in there, too. She didn’t look up from her knitting, even to acknowledge the sounds she must have heard as Rainbow less than carefully pulled her chair inwards, the hooves of the chair scraping across the floor.

They waited in an awkward semi-silence for some time, the clicking of knitting needles filling the room with repetitive, ceaseless noise. Rainbow glanced sideways to see Scootaloo fidgeting in her chair, clearly as uncomfortable as she was—she shot the filly a quick smile, and was relieved to get a nervous one in return.

She didn’t dare speak, though. She’d learned that lesson already.

The rush of air and creak of hinges as the doors opened were not, despite the build-up Rainbow had spent hoping, accompanied by a fanfare. Nevertheless, Ceasar’s entrance was somehow an affair that made Rainbow sit up straight and pay attention. It was one of those moments when the power balance in the room was unmistakable, and Rainbow knew it lay nowhere near her.

Ceasar seated himself at the head of the table, dismissing his servant with a nod of his head. He quickly wiped his monocle on a handkerchief before he turned and looked at Rainbow Dash.

“So, Miss Rainbow Dash,” he began, and any hope that Rainbow had left that she might somehow still have a chance at being in control of this evening were shattered by the confidence in his voice, the comfortable way with which he wielded the attention of the few ponies in the room. “I didn’t expect to see you back here again.”

It took Rainbow a fraction of a second to realise that that was a question, even though it wasn’t.

“Uh, yeah,” Rainbow began, almost wincing at how horribly unprepared and uncertain she sounded. “I, uh, wanted an opportunity to ap- formally apologise for my behaviour last time we met.” She was shaky and dazed. Scootaloo’s mother—Dainty, wasn’t it? Daisy, maybe—even looked up from her knitting for a few moments, just, it seemed, to blink at her. Rainbow swallowed and tried to compose herself under the judgemental eye of Ceasar.

“I behaved in a manner totally inappropriate for any sister of Scootaloo’s,” she said, bowing her head—partly to seem more humble, but mostly just so she didn’t have to look at Ceasar, whose stare was unnerving her. “I hope I can regain the trust and reputation I need to fill those shoes.”

Ceasar nodded once, briskly and efficiently, like everything he did.

“Very well,” he said. “We’ll see how that goes, shall we? Dainty, dearest, would you kindly pour the wine?”

Dainty put her knitting down on the table, reaching across for the wine bottle (already uncorked, of course, because that would have involved some kind of exertion) and pouring herself and her husband half a glass; Ceasar swirled the red liquid around, sniffing at it and eying the way it rolled around the edges critically. Rainbow looked at the empty wine glass by her place wistfully, but Dainty was already knitting again.

Without warning, the room became a bustle of noise and movement. Servants came in from every door, carrying platters and trays and plates and jugs, laying the table soundlessly with magic. Silver lids lifted from steaming plates of cabbages and soup and quiche, and Rainbow tried her best not to let her hunger dictate her movement. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Ceasar and Dainty sat up slowly and simply watched the plates arrive before them stoically; Scootaloo was doing the same beside her, only looking to Rainbow Dash for clues on how to behave, almost unaware that Rainbow had no idea what to do herself.

The servants vanished almost as quickly as they’d arrived, leaving behind a well-presented table of generous portions, piping hot and making Rainbow’s mouth water at even the slightest hint of their scent in the air. So slowly that it seemed he was deliberately extending the wait, revelling in their discomfort, Ceasar reached for his fork and raised it. Rainbow held her hoof back, restraining herself against her impulses, and waited for him to have taken his first mouthful, before reaching slowly for her cutlery herself and lifting it. She watched as Dainty picked up the napkin that sat beneath and laid it across her lap, gently and lightly, so she did the same and repressed a smile as she watched Scootaloo copy her.

Finally, as Dainty raised her fork to her lips, Rainbow allowed herself to press the prongs deep into the fleshy, soft quiche, sighing quietly to herself as the steam that rose from the little holes she had made reached her nose. She gently prized apart the two sections of the quiche, and raised the smaller segment to her muzzle, her lips closing around it with the relief of an athlete crossing the finish line of a particularly gruelling endurance race.

She savoured those flavours—Rainbow Dash, who could count the things she would slow down for on one hoof, had allowed herself to build up the patience to truly savour a mouthful of food. It was almost life-changing, not that Rainbow would let this one experience slow her down again in future.

“So, Scootaloo,” Dainty began, punctuating the silence with a disinterested tone, “how was school today?”

“Oh, school was great!” Scootaloo replied, eager and excited. “Today we started doing some really interesting parts of history, and Miss Cheerilee told us about all the mares and stallions Princess Celestia has married over the years—”

“Stallions, Scootaloo,” Ceasar corrected and something in his tone made the Rainbow’s blood freeze in her veins. “Princess Celestia has never been married to a mare. It is utter nonsense, isn’t it darling?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Dainty began. “I think Scootaloo is referring to the long line of assistants and close friends of the Princess who have been given as much time in the spotlight as her husbands have been. Is that what you meant, dear?”

“I, uh,” Scootaloo looked at Rainbow, flustered. Rainbow frowned, her eyes flitting between Ceasar and Dainty. “I mean, I’m pretty sure Miss Cheerilee said ‘wives’, but maybe I misheard?”

“Of course you misheard,” Ceasar said, his tone final. “Princess Celestia could not marry a mare. She’s the Princess; quite frankly, Scootaloo, if I didn’t know you hadn’t meant it I should send you to bed right now for even suggesting that she might be like that.”

“Like what?” Rainbow asked, not quite able to curse herself for interrupting. Her tone had remained curious and light, though, which she supposed was something. After all, she couldn’t afford to be antagonistic.

Ceasar appeared a little flustered. “Well… you know, the kind of mare who would… well, marry a mare.” Despite herself, Rainbow couldn’t help but notice the power shift (or had it ever really shifted? Dainty had always held herself high and kept her composure, not even deigning to look up for her husband’s entrance) as Ceasar grew less and less confident.

“What my husband means to say, Miss Dash,” Dainty said softly, as if she were explaining to a foal, though in her defence Rainbow had to admit that only a foal wouldn’t pick up on the insinuations, “is that Princess Celestia is not a fillyfooler.”

There was venom in that sweet, caring voice, a venom that was masked by an ignorance that Rainbow knew sat just beneath the surface. It was taking every fiber of her being not to rise to the challenge, and she could see Scootaloo squirming uncomfortably by her side.

“I don’t mean to say that it’s true,” Rainbow said, slowly, “but I remember being taught something similar in my schooldays. Did Miss Cheerilee talk to you about Lady Wind Whistler?” She had turned to face Scootaloo, now, who grinned in recognition.

“Yeah!” Scootaloo replied. “Lady Wind Whistler was the one who first wrote the dictionary, wasn’t she?” Rainbow nodded, smiling at the old stories she remembered from her foalhood.

“So, while I’m sure you’re right—” they weren’t “—I can vouch for other schools teaching the same thing in recent years.” Rainbow smiled nervously at the two earth ponies, who were staring at her with wide, fearful eyes. “So clearly this is something a lot of ponies are being taught.”

“Outrageous!” Ceasar slammed his hoof on the table, sending pieces of vegetable and drops of wine flying. “If foals are taught this nonsense, they’ll grow up believing it to be normal!” Dainty nodded along with him, giving weight to his words.

“Isn’t it?” Scootaloo asked, quietly. Rainbow’s breath caught in her throat.

This was rapidly degenerating into a disaster and Rainbow was desperate to get the whole evening back on track before she completely ruined her relationship with Ceasar and Dainty. Whether or not she appreciated their views, whether or not she thought they were thoroughly offensive, bigoted ponies, Rainbow knew that unless she could stay on their good side they weren’t going to allow her to see Scootaloo. There were very few things worth her pride, but one look at the little filly beside her told her that this one was.

“I think this is a conversation the two of you had best have with Scootaloo alone,” Rainbow said quickly, cutting off Ceasar as he opened his mouth. The stallion flashed an angry glare at her, so she continued. “Only I’m sure Scootaloo will have plenty of questions for you and I don’t think it’s my place to be a part of that discussion.”

“Are you not trying to convince us you’re worthy of being her sister?”

“The very fact that I need to shows that I am not yet so,” Rainbow said, tilting her head in an act of acceptance, though really she was trying to hide her face from Ceasar. She couldn’t bear to let him see the tells of anger in her expression.

She counted her breaths: one, heavy and tired, unable to take with it the tension she so desired to lose; two, forceful now, blown out through rounded lips, a desperate push away; three, wide-lipped and quiet, tongue rolling up to touch her teeth, a sigh; four doesn’t come, lips held shut, one just held lightly between her teeth. This was taking longer than it should, but Rainbow would not, could not look up.

“Very well,” Ceasar said: four, another sigh, now able to take with it the tension in her shoulders. “Scootaloo, we’ll explain this some other time. Now, did you learn anything else today?”

“Not really,” Scootaloo said, her voice catching a little though she managed to just hide it. “We had a big test this morning, so we didn’t get to learn very much.”

“And how did the test go?” Dainty asked, her sickly sweet tone unnerving Rainbow all the more. She was more frightening than Ceasar, for at least the intimidating stallion behaved in a way that Rainbow could justify her dislike through—Dainty’s outward kindness and generally quiet demeanour made it seem as if she cared.

Which she did. Rainbow took a deep breath and let it out as Scootaloo described the test (apparently Miss Cheerilee had tried something new and it had caught the whole class by surprise), trying to remind herself that no matter how horrific these ponies may behave, how disturbing their attitudes were, they still cared about Scootaloo. If anything, her last visit had shown her that—they weren’t the kinds of ponies who would live detatched from their daughter, seeing raising her as little more than a task to be done, even though Rainbow had really, really wanted to see them like that.

“It sounds like it was a very difficult test,” Dainty said, the change in speaking voice bringing Rainbow out of her reverie. “I’m sure you’ve done your best. Did you get all your homework done before dinner?”

Rainbow glanced at Scootaloo who was fidgeting on her chair, her lips twitching in a nervous grimace. Dainty sighed, her expression disappointed. Ceasar had turned completely to his dinner by now, ignoring the conversation at hand—Rainbow was less sure that he cared for Scootaloo’s wellbeing.

“Scootaloo, I know you were excited to have Miss Dash visit us, but you do really need to make sure you get your work done. You’ve been falling behind in class for a while now, and I know you’ve been trying really hard to catch up but if you want to do that you’ll have to work hard. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mom,” Scootaloo replied, looking down at her lap in guilt. Rainbow could hear the discomfort with which she said “Mom,” and tried to imagine how hard it would be to learn to call somepony you’d barely known for a month by such an intimate title. But something else was worrying Rainbow Dash, and she felt the need to question it.

“Scoots is having trouble with school?” She could feel Scootaloo almost shrinking beside her in shame. Dainty looked her straight in the eye.

“Yes,” she said, simply. “She’s been struggling for a few months now, and her grades have been slipping.”

“Do you think getting a tutor might help?” Rainbow asked. Ceasar looked up, now paying Rainbow his full attention. “I only ask because I struggled in school when I was Scootaloo’s age, and I always remember wishing my Dad would get me a tutor or someone who could help me.”

“Tutors are expensive,” Ceasar said, his tone final. Dainty shot him a look, but his eyes remained focused on Rainbow Dash. “Let Scootaloo put in the work that she needs to do first and see if she can improve without the extra cost.”

“I know tutors are usually expensive,” Rainbow said, “but I’m… very good friends with Twilight Sparkle, Princess Celestia’s private student. I have no doubt in my mind that she’d be willing to tutor Scootaloo. For, uh, for free,” she added. Ceasar frowned at that, clearly weighing the benefits and the costs.

“What does Scootaloo think?” Dainty suggested. Scootaloo cleared her throat quietly, and seemed to have almost curled up on herself.

“I, uhm…” she began, her gaze flitting between the three adults at the table. Dainty and Rainbow gave her encouraging smiles, while Ceasar looked on expectantly, his expression firm. “Well, I really like Twilight. She’s super-smart but never makes anypony feel bad for not knowing something. She can be a bit… scary, at times”—Rainbow chuckled under her breath and Dainty shot her a disapproving look; she coughed and murmured an apology—”but I think she would be fun. And she’d be a great tutor: if Twilight can’t work out why I’m struggling in school, nopony can.”

“She’s right,” Rainbow added. “Twilight’s the smartest pony I’ve met, the Princesses excepted of course, and she’s really enthusiastic about learning and teaching. She’d be great for Scootaloo, I know it.”

“Well I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Dainty said, smiling at her scowling husband. “When might you be able to check with her that this arrangement is alright?”

“I’ll see her tonight,” Rainbow said, smiling wistfully at the thought of the night at the library the two had planned. Dainty’s raised eyebrow made her shove the thought from her mind. “We’re, uh, having a sleepover in the library,” she explained, trying to make her tone meek and embarrassed to hide the lie. She doubted there would be very much sleeping going on.

“If you could ask her then, we would be most grateful,” Dainty said, her smile of thanks and glowing eyes shaking Rainbow—how could somepony who was so normal, so nice have such horrific ideas?

“Now wait just a minute,” Ceasar said, his tone bordering on furious. “I don’t believe I’ve had a chance to have my say yet—”

“Dear, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Dainty said firmly. “If it’s free and both Scootaloo and Miss Dash believe it will help her then there’s no reason not to at least try it. She’s been struggling for a while, now, and hasn’t improved as much as we’d hoped. It seems only sensible to try this alternative. Besides, it will make Scootaloo happy, won’t it darling?”

Scootaloo nodded enthusiastically; she may have been facing Ceasar, but Rainbow was convinced that she was pulling her best puppy-dog eyes—she and her friends were almost too good at using that expression. Ceasar sighed, rubbing his forehead with one hoof, his eyes squeezed tight shut, almost as if her were suffering from a headache.

“Oh, very well,” he said. Scootaloo turned to beam at Rainbow Dash in victory and Rainbow couldn’t help but smile back. Dainty caught her eye and winked, her wry smile leaving Rainbow Dash with no doubt as to who was in control in that relationship and who was frustrated that they weren’t.

“I’ll ask Twilight this evening,” Rainbow said with a smile. “I’m sure she’ll say yes, but I’ll let you know tomorrow?”

“That would be wonderful.” Dainty lay down her knife and fork across her empty plate, and Rainbow suddenly realised just how little she’d eaten compared to the others. Not wanting to keep them waiting, she tucked into her food, careful to eat fast enough to catch up with Scootaloo but not so fast that she would forsake her table manners. She didn’t get to really savour the rest of the quiche, though.

Soon the room was full of servants again as plates and platters were swapped out and replaced with individual slices of chocolate cake—Rainbow smiled as she recognised Pinkie’s signature style in the frosting and was pleased to know that Scootaloo was at least being fed proper desserts in this new home.

Even Ceasar smiled as he put the first mouthful of cake between his lips, his eyes closed in satisfaction. It was quiet for the longest time while everypony just enjoyed the taste. Soon enough, though, the clinking sound of Scootaloo’s fork being laid down captured all their attention.

“Say, Miss Rainbow Dash,” Dainty began, looking thoughtful, “since we were speaking of Scootaloo being tutored, I was wondering if you still planned on teaching her to fly.”

“Uh, yeah,” Rainbow answered, licking her lips. “I was, uh, going to.”

“Oh for crying out loud,” Ceasar said, shaking his head. “Stop getting her hopes up. You’re never going to find time to teach her; you’ve been promising for almost a year now. Don’t give me that look—” he fixed Rainbow with an icy stare, cutting her off before she could finish drawing a breath in to defend herself “—I’ve seen how much you laze around each day, dozing on those clouds. You could have freed up time to teach her a long time ago.”

Rainbow froze. The dinner had been going well, hadn’t it? Where did this come from? Had she done something wrong?

“I thought…” she began, her voice weak and her thoughts unformed. What did she say to that? All the fight in her had gone the instant Ceasar cut her off, taking with it her will and her defence. After all, she did spend a lot of time napping. “But… I…”

“My husband may be being a tad harsh on you, Miss Dash,” Dainty added quietly. “But he does raise a valid question. Just what has been stopping you from teaching Scootaloo?”

Scootaloo was looking up at her with wide, hurt eyes and Rainbow’s breath simply stopped: she couldn’t breathe. Everything was wrong, everything she had worked so very hard for was falling right before her eyes and now there was nothing she could do.

“I just… I wanted her to be happy…” Quiet mutterings, too afraid to say the truth. No—she had to be brave. She was Rainbow Dash. She looked Ceasar right in the eye, unflinching (though she really, really wanted to). “May I speak with you? I-in private?”

“No,” Ceasar said, cutting her off again. “You may not. You have disappointed me, lead my daughter on and discouraged her from seeing a real flight instructor for almost a year when she really needs one.”

Rainbow could feel the anger building, the finality in Ceasar’s tone lighting the kindling the stallion had unknowingly been laying for a month. Ceasar had already made up his mind, and nothing Rainbow could say would change it. His stubbornness, his hatred of ponies guilty of nothing more than loving—

“You think I like it?” Rainbow asked, her voice quiet but beneath it she was seething with rage. Dainty sat up a little; Ceasar blinked. “You think I like seeing the disappointment in her eyes when I have to come up with some excuse or other to keep delaying? Because each time I do that it breaks my heart.” Rainbow shook her head. She was shaking now, with pent-up anger and tension and a year of heartbreak. Her voice was rising; she couldn’t control it. Soon enough, she would be shouting. “I have no choice in the matter, just like I have no choice in loving Twilight, just like Cheerilee has no choice in teaching about Celestia’s wives.” She spat the word out. Dainty’s eyes were wide, with what looked like fear etched across her face. Ceasar was silently fuming.

Scootaloo looked puzzled.

“Why?” she asked, quietly, and Rainbow felt the gold grasp of fear on her shoulders. The other two adults in the room faded, and all that mattered was Scootaloo, and keeping Scootaloo safe and happy.

“Please, Scoots,” she asked—no, begged. “Not now. Another time.”

“No,” Scootaloo said firmly. Rainbow could see the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes, her lips set in a determined line. “I want to know, now. You owe me that much.”

“Scoots, I…” Rainbow closed her eyes tight, hoping the tears she could feel would vanish if she did so. “Please, just wait until we’ve all calmed down and everything is less ten—”

“Now listen here, Dash,” Ceasar said, his voice loud and angry. “First you lie to my daughter, then you say it’s all been for her benefit while not even explaining it to me, and then to top it all off you want to make her wait longer for an explanation? It’s always the same with your kind; the whole lot of them, liars and good-for-nothing scroungers who think only of themselves and never—”

“You think I want to be the one to tell her she’ll never fly‽” Rainbow shouted, snapping at Ceasar, the words sharp and bitter on her tongue. The room fell into a deathly silence; three sets of eyes stared at her, unblinking, as Rainbow Dash watched her carefully-constructed world shatter, the layers upon layers of lies and distractions crafted to keep Scootaloo happy and to stop her from having to face the truth before she was ready vanishing in an instant, and Rainbow fell with nothing left to lean on.

She was completely aware of herself, of how exposed she had left herself and how hateful the eyes looking at her were. She half-expected it from Dainty and Ceasar, sure that the two of them would hate her regardless of her motives for her “unnatural ways” but Scootaloo…

She didn’t expect Scootaloo to understand, not immediately, but the look of hurt on her face had turned to anger, to disgust. Her eyes widened; surely… surely Scootaloo would understand?

“Get out.”

Never in her life had Rainbow been more frightened of a whisper, more hurt by words so quiet she could have mistaken them for a breeze. She swallowed, her tongue darting around her dry lips.

She wanted to respond, to apologise, but the fires in the eyes that watched her were still burning bright and Rainbow Dash knew that there was nothing she could do to fix this, not now, not yet. She couldn’t make this right until those fires and died down, and until the fire in her had died down, too.

She rose, inclining her head, and walked to the door, leaving the room.

“Miss Dash?” She pushed past the servant at the door, shrugging his leg off of her as he tried to stop her, pushing onwards until she was out of the hallway, out of the doors and into the air, pushing herself as fast as she could go because she needed to get away, she needed to be as far away from there as possible and oh sweet Celestia what had she done?

She was in Twilight’s hooves before she even realised it, barrelling through the Library window and right into her marefriend. She was sobbing and crying and everything was wrong and why hadn’t she listened

“Hush, hush, I’m here.” Twilight’s voice was comforting, even if Rainbow was sure that she didn’t deserve comfort any more. “I’ve got you, it’s fine. It’s okay.”

“No, Twi,” she said, her voice uneven and cracking. “It’s not okay.”

Not quite sure what to say to that, Twilight sat and ran her hooves through Rainbow’s mane, whispering comfortingly in her ear and holding her marefriend close until, slowly but surely, she sobbed herself to sleep.

Chapter 9: Leek and Potato Stew

She hadn’t been to many fancy restaurants in her time, but Rainbow had to admit she’d always secretly wanted to come here.

Cloudsdale was not particularly well-known for its food, its dining quarter mostly consisting of a few run-down Griffon restaurants, a pub and a small cafe, but at the other end of town, near the Cloudosseum and between the tall, modern hotels stood a modest little building that stood, unremarkably plain, in the middle of the long boulevard. It didn’t need to advertise—everypony knew Laurette’s. It was almost as well-known as the Cloudosseum itself.

Everypony, it seemed, except Twilight Sparkle.

“What’s Laurette’s?” Her face screwed up in her own special mix of curiosity and disgust (and it seemed to Rainbow that Twilight was always upset with herself for not knowing things), Twilight seemed to be honestly confused.

“You haven’t heard of Laurette’s?” Rainbow just managed to keep her jaw from dropping like a rock, her shocked tone, she felt, fully justified. “The only restaurant outside Canterlot to have received Princess Celestia’s official approval? The single most famous restaurant this side of Manehattan? The restaurant so good the hotels in Cloudsdale have built up around it?”

“Okay, okay,” Twilight replied, shaking her head disbelievingly. “I get it. It’s a good restaurant and it’s pretty well known.”

“Twilight, I’ve never met anypony besides you who hasn’t heard of it, even here in Ponyville. There are unicorns who learned the cloud-walking spell just to visit it.” Rainbow sighed. “You have no idea how much I had to do to get us a reservation there, do you?” she asked flatly. Twilight grimaced and shook her head.

“I’m sure if it’s as good as you say it is, I’ll love it.” Rainbow snorted and rolled her eyes as Twilight nuzzled up against her.

“I wasn’t worried for a second that you wouldn’t—it’s Laurette’s,” Rainbow replied. “I’d just wanted to do something really special to celebrate us being together four months, and I’m a bit disappointed that this wasn’t as impressive as I’d hoped it’d be.”

Twilight turned her head to give Rainbow a quick peck on the cheek. “You know, I’m still really impressed you’ve managed to go this long without bragging that you managed to get reservations to some place like this. I mean, you must have had that in place for a few weeks at least, right?”

Rainbow smirked and rolled her eyes. “I am capable of keeping secrets, y’know. Just because some ponies have to be chased down by Pinkie Pie to remind them not to spill the beans…” Twilight swatted at Rainbow playfully, catching her marefriend on the shoulder. Rainbow grinned at her. “Anyway, now I can brag even more.”

Twilight shook her head, chuckling. “You’re insufferable. Sometimes I wonder why I’m even going out with you.”

“Because I’m awesome,” Rainbow replied, not missing a beat, and Twilight laughed freely.

“You keep telling yourself that, Dash,” she said, flicking Rainbow with her tail cheekily as she stepped out of the balloon’s basket. Rainbow was surprised Twilight hadn’t made any comments about her being in the balloon in the first place.

She watched as Twilight bounced a little on the clouds, testing the surface and making sure she felt comfortable with the cloud-walking spell in place, her face scrunched up in concentration and her lips pulled just to one side in a way that made Rainbow want to leap out of the basket and kiss her.

Rainbow jumped lightly out of the basket, stretching her legs as she landed on the clouds and sighing in relief. Just because she hadn’t complained on the journey up hadn’t meant she wasn’t itching to get out of the small, constrictive basket.

“So,” Twilight said brightly, seemingly happy with her spell and her own safety, “where is this restaurant?”

Rainbow raised a hoof and pointed to the street behind them, directly opposite where they had landed. Twilight turned and let out a little gasp as she saw the Cloudosseum in the distance, a large, grand structure that sat at the end of the boulevard. Rainbow chuckled as she walked over to Twilight and gave her marefriend a peck on the cheek.

“We’re heading down here,” she said, smirking at the dumbstruck look on Twilight’s face as she kicked off from the cloud. “It’s a little way down the road; I hope you’re not too hungry, ‘cos it’s probably gonna be a little while till dinner.”

“It’s that far?” Twilight asked, trotting to keep up with Rainbow’s slow pace. She could hear the disappointment (and the hunger) in Twilight’s voice.

“Nah,” Rainbow replied, grinning, “it’s just one of those restaurants where you have to wait forever for the food to get to you.”

“Rainbow, not to cast aspersions or anything, but you think the waiting time at Sugarcube Corner is ‘forever’.” Twilight stuck her tongue out at Rainbow, who looked appropriately offended but was smiling anyway.

“I think aspersions have been cast,” Rainbow replied, shrugging as Twilight raised her eyebrows. “Okay, fine: no, I don’t know what that means, but I’m pretty sure it’s bad, right?”

Twilight laughed, and Rainbow soon found herself joining in, dropping down to the cloud to walk alongside her marefriend as they laughed together. Despite the slower pace, Rainbow was surprised to find them at Laurette’s sooner than she had expected, and for a moment she wondered if it had moved.

She slowed as they approached the door, turning her body inwards towards the buildings just a fraction, and was pleased when Twilight picked up on the clues. After a second, though, she realised Twilight was no longer beside her. She stopped where she was and turned around, wide-eyed and almost worried.

Twilight was staring in awe at the building before them, her expression oddly reminding Rainbow of how she had looked after their first meeting, when Rainbow had sped around the sky faster than she’d ever cleared clouds before in the hopes she could impress the hot new mare in town and maybe get herself a date for the Summer Sun Celebration and inevitable Pinkie Pie Party that would follow. It was a look that filled Rainbow with pride when it was directed at something she’d done and she finally felt as if all the time she’d put into organising tonight was starting to pay off.

After a moment of staring at Twilight, Rainbow shook her head and, snorting gently, walked over to her and kissed her, right on the lips, catching her open mouth with her own and nibbling softly on the soft tissue. Twilight let out a tiny, short moan so brief it sounded almost like a hum, before pulling away.

“What was that for?” she asked, blushing a little. She looked as if she were trying to decide whether she should be shocked or pleased, and ended up looking just a little awkward, which was cute.

“Because you’re hot,” Rainbow replied with a shrug, laughing as Twilight’s face darkened further. Winking, she turned around and lead the way into the restaurant, hoping that Twilight wouldn’t be too stunned to follow.

“Good evening, madames.”

Rainbow looked up to see a stallion dressed in a smart suit (something she rarely saw in Cloudsdale at all—it was more common to see work clothes, stained with rainbows, or even flight suits than it was to see formalwear) standing to her left, a grave, dispassionate look on his face. She smiled meekly at him, suddenly feeling out of place without clothes as a quick scan of the room showed that most ponies there were well-dressed.

“Can I help you?” he continued, looking somewhat unimpressed.

“Uhm, yeah,” Rainbow replied, a little nervous. “I’ve got a reservation under the name ‘Rainbow Dash’. Table for two, eight o’clock?”

The stallion turned to the lectern beside him, flicking absently through a large, thick book with his magic. After a moment he stopped, squinted at the page for a second, and looked back at her.

“Yes,” he said slowly, after a pause that seemed to go on for years. He sounded somewhat disapproving, and Rainbow could see his eyes sweeping over her and Twilight, judging. “You do. Follow me.”

As they wove their way through the tables of ponies, eyes turned to look at them, following them as they walked. Rainbow hoped that they weren’t going too far through the room—she wasn’t sure she could stand this much judgement. She hadn’t felt this nervous since she was dragged to that press conference after her first rainboom; it felt as if every eye on the room was judging her and that no matter what she did it would be the wrong thing.

“You know,” Twilight whispered, “I think we’re a little underdressed.”

Rainbow suppressed her laughter, biting her lip to prevent herself from bursting out into unrestrained cackles. She had never heard anything that was quite so much of an understatement, and Twilight’s wry smile was helping to diffuse the worst of her nerves and worry.

Almost as punishment, though, Rainbow could see in the waiter’s stride and posture that they were not headed for anywhere near the door. Scanning the tables ahead, Rainbow couldn’t see any free seats—the restaurant was packed, with only the odd table free, and they had already passed the only one she had spotted in this direction. Where was he taking them? He couldn’t have been planning to take them on a walk of shame through the whole restaurant, could he?

It was then that Rainbow saw them—far on the other side of the room, against the wall, were a string of private booths, each surrounded by wooden partitions to keep ponies from watching and create a sense of privacy. Laurette’s went further than most restaurants, however, adding a small sliding door to each booth that the customer may close if they wished while they ate, allowing them to seal themselves off from the public if they needed. It was no wonder the Wonderbolts were said to eat here so frequently.

The waiter gestured for the two of them to enter an booth as he slid the door open, and Rainbow was sure she’d seen an almost fond smile on his muzzle for a moment. She let Twilight sit down first before following her marefriend into the space that felt almost like their own private dining room.

The waiter closed the partition behind him and took a deep breath.

“Shall we start again?” he joked, before settling his features and clearing his throat.

“Good evening, madames. My name is Earl Gray and I shall be your waiter for this evening.” As he spoke, his horn lit up and drew two menus from somewhere beneath the table, laying them out gently before the two of them. “Would you like anything to to drink while you decide?”

“Could we get a bottle of water for the table?” Twilight asked, surprisingly confident given how nervous and uncertain Rainbow Dash was feeling. She smiled brightly at Rainbow. “You don’t want anything else for now, do you?”

“N-no,” Rainbow said, before coughing. “Just water sounds good to me right now. Dry throat,” she added, coughing again to demonstrate her point. Twilight rolled her eyes while the waiter turned and left the booth, sliding the door shut behind him on his way out.

“How are you so calm?” Rainbow asked, shocked. Twilight frowned before her mouth opened, forming a little ‘o’ of realisation.

“Rainbow, I’ve been to restaurants like this hundreds of times. Celestia used to take me for dinner once a week after she’d decided I was old enough to be treated as an adult. She used to think it was funny to make me order everything for her. I guess I’m just used to places like this.”

“I’ve never been to one before,” Rainbow admitted. She fidgeted nervously as she sat, biting her lip. “I thought it would be simple and easy, like going for a night out at Sugarcube Corner or something. Sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?” Twilight said, frowning. “This place looks amazing! And this is probably the first time I’ve actually been torn between choices from a menu in almost ten years; this all looks great.” Rainbow looked down at the menu as Twilight pointed at it with her hoof. It was mostly covered in words Rainbow had never seen before, and written in a swirling, cursive hoofwriting that made it difficult to read clearly.

“Yeah,” Rainbow muttered, her eyes running over the sheet of paper searching for something, anything she could understand. “I think it’s going to be really hard to pick something from this.”

It wasn’t too long before the waiter returned, placing a large jug of water and two empty glasses on the table, before lifting the jug and pouring each of the mares a glass. Twilight smiled, confidently and politely, in thanks as he set her glass down; Rainbow tried to do the same, but felt as if she’d simply grimaced awkwardly at him. She could hear Twilight suppressing a giggle with her hoof and she stuck her tongue out at her marefriend as soon as the waiter looked away.

“Are you ready to order?” he asked as he turned to Twilight (because it seemed he’d already picked up on which of the two was more confident in a restaurant, not that Rainbow was bitter about that). Rainbow felt her heartbeat quicken as she heard the question, knowing full well that she still didn’t have any idea what she wanted—or, in fact, what any of the dishes were.

“Could we have a few minutes, please?” Twilight asked, her expression just the right level of apologetic. “I still haven’t quite decided. You don’t mind, do you Rainbow?”

“No, not at all,” Rainbow said, her eyes turning back to the menu sos she didn’t feel quite so embarassed under Earl Gray’s gaze. “I think we could both do with a bit more time.”

The waiter nodded and turned away, leaving them again in silence. Rainbow watched as Twilight picked up her glass in her magic and took a sip of water, seemingly nerve-free. She reached for her own glass and realised her hoof was shaking. Why was she shaking? It wasn’t as if this was anything particularly scary, just a situation she was unused to. That was all, so why was she so nervous?

She took a careful sip of the cold water, swilling it around her mouth before swallowing. The cold was refreshing and helped her concentrate.

“So,” she said as casually as she could, “seen anything you like the look of?”

Twilight hummed for a second non-committally. “I think the soup of the day looks particularly inviting,” she began, “but I’m not really in the mood for mushrooms tonight. So I’m rather torn between the leek and potato stew and the fried rice. What do you think I should have?”

“Why don’t you get the rice, and I’ll have the stew?” Rainbow suggested, trying to keep her calm. If she was lucky, Twilight wouldn’t even have to know that she still had no idea what was on the menu. “That way you can have a little bit of each.”

“Are you sure?” Twilight asked, with the little frown on her face she always got when things seemed too good to be true. Rainbow cracked a wide smile at that, leaning across the table to give her a quick kiss—Twilight blushed and smiled a little, embarassed.

“Twi,” Rainbow said, leaning back on the bench, “I’m not that fussed what I have. I’m getting to spend an awesome evening with my awesome and sexy marefriend, and quite frankly so long as the food is good I don’t care what I eat.” Twilight smiled at that, blushing deeper.

It wasn’t long before Earl Gray returned to take their order. Twilight asked for the rice, starting her order with please and ending with thank you and generally behaving with more grace and charm than Rainbow had ever seen her using. It was mystifying, and beautiful.

“And what would you like?”

Oh. What was it she’d said she would have? It was a stew, wasn’t it… was it on the menu? Rainbow cast her eyes down at the offending paper, scanning across it for anything that resembled the word ‘stew’, but she couldn’t see anything like it. She cleared her throat and turned to the waiter, smiling pleasantly.

“I’ll have the stew, please,” she said as confidently as she could manage. If she was lucky, nopony would realise she hadn’t said the full name—

“Which stew, madame?” Earl asked politely and patiently. Rainbow froze, unsure what to say. She shot a worried glance at Twilight, who coughed to get the waiter’s attention.

“She’d like the leek and potato stew,” she said, before adding, “sorry; I suggested it, but didn’t notice the other stew on the menu.”

Earl nodded in understanding. Rainbow wondered how Twilight was suddenly able to lie so smoothly, and to sound so confident as she did so. It was like Twilight was a whole other pony when she was in a restaurant, and Rainbow was couldn’t help but find this new mare unreasonably attractive.

“Any drinks with your meals?” he asked. Twilight glanced at Rainbow, who shook her head slightly—she was more than happy with the water they had left on the table.

“The water is enough for us,” Twilight said. “Thanks anyway.”

“No problem, madame,” he replied, picking up their menus in his magic and tucking them away beneath the table. “One leek and potato stew, and one ‘special’ rice.” Twilight nodded, and he turned on the spot, leaving them alone again.

“Thanks,” Rainbow said after a moment. Twilight smiled warmly, her eyes filled with a look of happiness.

“It’s no problem,” she replied. “I know you’d do the same for me if you had to. Besides, it’s just a little bit funny watching you squirm, but it’s a lot more fun to let you thank me for saving your reputation later.” Rainbow felt her cheeks warm as Twilight wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, before the two mares began to giggle uncontrollably.

As their laughter subsided, Rainbow scooted around the U-shaped bench so that she was sitting next to Twilight in one, smooth motion; she watched as Twilight blinked, turning her head slowly as if she were following a ghost of Rainbow’s movement. Rainbow took the opportunity to wrap a foreleg around Twilight’s neck and kiss her.

Taking advantage of the closed door, Twilight turned herself on the bench so she was better facing Rainbow, letting the pegasus lean in closer and deepen the kiss. Rainbow felt forelegs wrap around her torso, pulling her closer as Twilight kissed her back. It wasn’t a fierce kiss, the kind that Rainbow was all too familiar with and lead to heated makeouts in the back of the library, nor was it the kind of kiss that was over too soon, burning bright and sharp but ultimately brief in nature. No, this was a kind of kiss that was wholly new to Rainbow, the kind of kiss that started as just a little flame and grew and grew until it threatened to consume her, bright and hot and everywhere at once.

It burned out, in time, dying away slowly and gently so that it didn’t even feel like it was fading until only the memory of it remained and you sat wondering where the fire had gone. Rainbow smiled as she leaned into Twilight, snuggling up in her hooves. She was warm and comfortable and had never felt quite so content.

She’d felt happy before: when she’d performed the rainboom again, when she’d spent all day just playing pranks with Pinkie, when Twilight hadn’t told her she was mad for feeling like this and said that she’d go on a date with her. But contentedness and happiness, Rainbow knew, were not the same, and while to be happy was perfectly good, nothing quite beat the warm, safe glow of contentment.

“You know,” Twilight whispered, “you should probably go and sit back over there. The food might not be very long.”

“Was that really that long?” Rainbow asked. “It seemed like it barely lasted a minute.” She reached up and caught Twilight’s lips with hers, kissing her softly to prove a point. Twilight kissed her back at first, but pulled away after a few moments.

“No,” Twilight said. “Behave. We’re in a fancy, famous restaurant.”

“In a private booth,” Rainbow said, as Twilight rolled her eyes. “With a door.”

“No,” Twilight repeated, shoving at Rainbow and pushing the mare off of her. Rainbow almost fell over onto her other side, she was so unprepared for the sudden toppling movement. She felt Twilight’s magic catch her and she scooted back around to her seat, pouting. “Oh, come on,” Twilight said, “don’t give me that look. You know I’d much rather be kissing you than sitting across a table like this, but I think we’ve already made enough of a bad impression on the staff here, don’t you?”

Rainbow huffed and crossed her forelegs, looking off to one side in mock indignation, hiding a smile. Twilight rolled her eyes again, picking up her glass of water and having another sip.

“You know, usually one makes conversation during this part of the meal,” Twilight said, a twinkle in her eye. “We could sit and talk about your work, or about my research, or about Daring Do…”

“Okay, so you know how in Griffon’s Goblet Caballeron manages to get hold of—why are you sniggering like that?” Rainbow asked, frowning. Twilight shook her head, grinning broadly.

“You are so easy to distract, you know that?” she answered, chuckling to herself. Rainbow huffed again. Twilight took a deep breath and composed herself. “But yes, Doctor Caballeron gets hold of the Amulet of Allcornia…”

“I was just thinking, you remember that time Trixie got hold of the Alicorn Amulet?” Rainbow began, noting the look of recognition on Twilight’s face mixed with a small frown of confusion. “It just seemed remarkably similar, you know? Like, they both give incredible power, both can only be removed by the wearer, similar names…”

“Yes, but two of those properties are generally true for most amulets,” Twilight argued. “The similar name is probably just a coincidence. There have been hundreds of amulets in Equestrian history, the Alicorn Amulet is hardly worth a mention compared to some of them…”

“Why’d Trixie seem so keen to get hold of it, then?” Rainbow asked, confused. “I thought it was some almighty, powerful amulet.”

“Well, I suppose it is relatively powerful,” Twilight replied. “I think the reason Trixie was drawn to that amulet was the mystery. It had been missing for hundreds of years and—”

Earl Grey pulled open the door of the booth, levitating in some dishes and cutlery.

“One stew,” he said, laying the bowl before Rainbow gently so as not to spill any of the warm sauce, “and one fried rice.” Rainbow didn’t look up from her bowl as the second plate of food landed on the table; she felt her stomach rumble and tried to resist the urge to simply grab her cutlery and start eating. “I hope you enjoy your meal.”

“Thank you,” Twilight said brightly as the waiter turned and left. Twilight grabbed the door in her magic and slid it shut behind him. “Mmm, this looks great!”

“Yeah,” Rainbow said, her eyes wide as she reached for a spoon. Their conversation forgotten, the two tucked into the food before them, Rainbow wolfing down the stew which somehow surpassed even her highest expectations of Laurette’s; she could certainly see why there was so much fuss about this place, and why it had taken her a month and a half to get hold of a reservation.

“It tastes good too,” Twilight added after a few mouthfuls, wiping her muzzle with a napkin. “Do you want to try a bit?” Rainbow nodded and Twilight levitated a forkful of rice over to her; Rainbow’s eyes went wide as the flavours filled her mouth, and she started to wonder if she’d made the wrong choice for her meal.

“Wow,” she said, reaching for her glass and taking a swig of water. Twilight lifted the jug and refilled her now-empty glass, so she smiled and nodded in thanks. “You know, I’d heard this place was good, but I honestly didn’t expect anything like this.”

“I know what you mean,” Twilight replied. “This really is excellent food. Even Celestia’s kitchens don’t always produce food as good as this, although in fairness to them they have to deal with some rather last-minute orders of dishes they’ve never even thought to prepare for. The Princess can be a little… demanding when it comes to food.”

“I’m surprised she never took you here,” Rainbow said. “I mean, it’s the only restaurant outside Canterlot she’s ever officially endorsed. She must like it.”

“Maybe she didn’t want me to be tempted to run away and leave her for a city with better food?” Twilight joked, smirking. Rainbow remembered how Twilight had practically fawned over the Princess when she first arrived in Ponyville, her almost obsessive need to make things right when the Princess did come to visit almost frighteningly, well, crazy. It was good to see Twilight now, comfortable making jokes at the expense of her mentor.

“Maybe she was frightened you’d meet a beautiful pegasus and run off to elope, never to see her again,” Rainbow suggested, and Twilight raised her eyebrows at her. “What? Are you saying you wouldn’t elope right now if I asked?”

Twilight chuckled lightly, but was avoiding Rainbow’s eye contact and Rainbow was convinced she was blushing. She decided to drop the conversation and try something new.

“So,” she began, “Scoots invited me over again.”

“Really?” Twilight asked, surprised but also quite pleased if her growing smile was anything to go by. “I’m glad. It would be good for you to see her again, and make peace with her parents.” Rainbow snorted.

“I dunno, Twi,” she said. “You haven’t met the two of them. I swear, walking around with their matching cutie marks and their stupid mansion… you know, I got the invite by post? It was all formal and everything, with a big, fancy, swirly bit at the top. It was kinda like the menu here.”

“Still,” Twilight said, “I know you don’t like them, and I know they’re not all that nice, but you ought to give them a chance, right? For Scootaloo’s sake, if nothing else.”

Rainbow deflated in her seat, sinking in resignation. “I guess you’re right,” she said. “Although quite frankly I really wish you weren’t.”

“I wish I wasn’t too,” Twilight said. “I’ve heard bad things about those two. Dainty and Ceasar, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow replied. “Something like that. Why?”

Twilight took a moment to compose herself, taking another bit of rice and swallowing before raising her glass to her lips.

“Because,” she said, taking a sip, “I have been told that they’re not particularly tolerant of… certain kinds of ponies. You’d do best to keep quiet around them and not say anything that might antagonise them, too, because I’m afraid to say they’ve got quite a lot of power between the two of them.”

“Yeah, sure,” Rainbow said dismissively, poking at her stew. “Don’t say anything antagonising, be nice, be quiet. Got it.”

“I mean it, Rainbow,” Twilight said, gently. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, and I know you. You’re the kind of pony who says things without really thinking about them, and around Ceasar and Dainty Dove, that could be exceptionally dangerous.”

Rainbow was quiet for a moment. She wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that; she’d already said she would do her best, after all.

“I think you should tell Scootaloo,” Twilight said. “As soon as you ca—”

“No.” Rainbow rested her hoof on the table, leaning forwards. “I’m not going to do that to her. She needs to hear it from them, or from a doctor. I-I can’t be the one to tell her that.”

Twilight sighed, and Rainbow could tell she wanted to press the issue further. Yet, despite herself, Twilight seemed to give up, leaning backwards and putting her cutlery down on her plate; she’d barely eaten half her food.

The silence that hung over the table was almost painful, and Rainbow couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she’d done something wrong and somehow offended Twilight. She couldn’t quite bring herself to finish her food with the atmosphere like this, either, so she put her spoon down in her bowl and scooted around to sit by Twilight’s side again.

“Hey,” she said, nudging Twilight’s shoulder gently with her nose. “I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t want to do that tonight—well, I don’t ever want to do that, but tonight was meant to be special.”

“It is special,” Twilight said, smiling a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You know I just want you to be happy, that I wouldn’t be suggesting this if I didn’t really think it was going to make you happier in the end?”

“I think so,” Rainbow said, uncertainly. “I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s why you’re telling me to do that. I’m just not sure I understand why it would make me happier.”

“Because a relationship built on lies can’t last,” Twilight said. “And being Scootaloo’s sister make you happy, Rainbow. Hay, I’ve never seen you happier than when you spent that evening with Scootaloo last week, just taking her for a glide around the park on your back; you weren’t even that happy when you managed to do the sonic rainboom, or when the Wonderbolts accepted you into the academy.

“I don’t want you to lose that. I’m not sure how well you’d cope.”

Rainbow snuggled into Twilight’s side, nuzzling her head against her marefriend’s warm fur. She smiled, planting soft kisses against Twilight’s coat, giggling as Twilight squirmed uncomfortably at the ticklish sensation.

She thought about it, forcing herself to really think through what it would be like if she actually spoke with Scootaloo about all this rather than what she had done before, when the very idea of even thinking about it made her feel sick. She tried to focus on Twilight as she did so, focus on the comfort and safety of her marefriend’s embrace, and force herself to really, truly consider the possibility that she might have to tell Scootaloo she would never fly.

She knew the news would make the little filly distraught, knew it would destroy so many of her hopes and dreams and potentially even send her into some kind of depression; the kid was bullied enough for not yet being able to fly, but had allowed this to fuel her determination to keep trying over the years. If she were to lose that hope that maybe one day, if she tried hard enough, she would fly, Rainbow wasn’t entirely sure how Scootaloo would deal with the inevitable bullying.

But Rainbow did know that she would be there beside Scootaloo the whole way, that she would be willing to be there for Scootaloo whenever she needed somepony to be strong for her, whenever she needed somepony to make her feel like she was worth something. Rainbow had made a promise to Scootaloo a long time before, and she intended to keep it—she was her big sister now, and that meant being there for her when times were tough as much as it meant being somepony to spend time with and have fun with on the good days.

She also knew that, no matter what, Scootaloo wouldn’t ever give up; if she found out she wasn’t able to fly, it wouldn’t surprise Rainbow to see Scootaloo pushing her scooting skills to the limit, or working wonders with gliding and pushing the boundaries of what she could do in the air without having to fly. And she knew that Scootaloo was the kind of filly who wouldn’t ever be happy with not being the very best (it was a part of herself she could see in the filly, something that made her want to protect her and keep her safe not only from the world but from herself) and would be more than capable of pushing herself to be the best in a field that wasn’t flying, in a field that was better suited to a pegasus stuck on the ground.

Still, Rainbow knew that such a life would only ever be second-best to Scootaloo, a make-do solution that would only last for as long as the little filly was capable of keeping herself distracted. That wasn’t the life for any filly, was it?

“I…” she began, before closing her mouth and sighing. She wasn’t sure, but just at that moment Rainbow realised she would never be sure, that she would never know until she actually made a decision whether she was right or wrong. And in that moment she knew that if she didn’t decide soon she never would, that she would be putting it off forever and a day and that was almost as unacceptable—no, it was worse than if she were to someday tell Scootaloo the truth.

“You’re right,” she said, quietly, before chuckling to herself darkly. “Of course, you’re right, you always are.”

Twilight smiled, leaning down to kiss Rainbow lightly on her forehead. Rainbow leaned up, instead, catching Twilight’s lip with her own. “You’re always right. I’m going to tell her. I’ll give it a week, try to make peace with Ceasar and Dainty, and then I’ll tell her.”

She didn’t even realise she was crying until she felt Twilight’s hoof on her cheek, wiping at an unfelt tear-mark, rubbing warm dampness across her fur.

“Thank you,” Twilight whispered, quietly. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re making the right choice.”

“Twilight,” Rainbow said, cracking a shaky smile, “that’s worth it all.”

Chapter 10: A Little Bit of Everything

The library was quiet and mostly empty, as the library often was. Twilight was somewhere upstairs, curled up with a book Celestia had sent her, which left Spike to keep an eye on the library floor, making sure to deal with any customers who entered.

They never did. Spike had learned that much over the years, and he was naturally inclined to spend the hours he promised to watch the library curled up himself in a corner with the latest edition of Power Ponies, only stirring if he heard the doorbell jingle as somepony entered.

It had been so long since he’d heard the sound that Spike at first was mildly confused by the light, high-pitched ringing. He frowned and stood, jogging his way out from the History section and into the main library entrance, looking around for a sign of anypony who had entered. It took him a moment to spot Rainbow Dash, walking quietly up the stairs with a smile on her face.

“Hey, Rainbow?” Rainbow looked down at the sound of her name, spotting the little dragon on the floor below and smiling, then frowning. He looked worried.

“Hey Spike,” she said, stopping in place so that she could hold a proper conversation. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” Spike replied with a shrug, “but you probably don’t want to go upstairs—Twilight’s doing a lot of work today, stuff Celestia’s sent her, and she doesn’t want to be disturbed.” Rainbow tried not to let Spike see her pout, forcing a smile on her face as she lightly jumped down onto the floor below.

“Well,” she said with a sigh, “I wish she’d told me she’d be busy today. I just wanted to come and visit, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Spike said, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like you do that every other day. You two don’t even go out of the library!” Spike stopped, his tone suggesting he had more he wanted to say but had thought better of it. Rainbow raised her eyebrows quizzically, and Spike sighed in resignation. “I just wondered what you two were doing. It’s not like you to willingly spend so much time on the ground, let alone indoors.”

Rainbow smiled, the lie coming easily. “We’re just reading, Spike,” she said, shaking her head as if she thought he was overthinking things. “I mean, since Twi showed me Daring Do I’ve just kinda enjoyed spending time reading more things, I guess.”

Rainbow hated this part of their relationship—but she knew that Twilight had every right to want to keep things between them, for now. They had barely been going out three months, anyway, and though that might have seemed like a long time to Rainbow it really wasn’t enough time for somepony like Twilight to commit to actually coming out to her friends and family. Rainbow thought it was silly: there was hardly anypony these days who didn’t at the very least accept them, if not wholeheartedly and gladly welcome them as friends. She knew their friends would support them, and she had never met anypony in Ponyville who wouldn’t, but… well, Twilight was just being Twilight, she guessed. It was just like her to overthink even the smallest things, and Rainbow had to admit that to somepony who grew up socially isolated this probably wasn’t a small thing.

Still, it was worth it. If it made Twilight happy, almost anything seemed worth it, these days.

“I dunno,” Spike muttered. “I guess I just never pegged you as the type to enjoy spending time just reading.”

“Hey,” Rainbow replied, “I’ll have you know that I am far more than just a pretty face and awesome tricks!”

Spike raised his eyebrows at her, his expression blank. “Pretty face?” he asked, clearly trying to hide a snigger and doing rather well at it. Rainbow put on her best mock-hurt expression, clasping her hoof to her chest and swooning dramatically.

“Spike! You wound me!” she cried, feigning a sob. “I don’t know how I shall live if you don’t think I’m pretty.” Spike rolled his eyes, turning to walk back into a little corner of the library.

“Twi will be down for dinner in about half an hour,” Spike called over his shoulder. “Feel free to just hang around till then if you want. And stop being such a drama queen; it doesn’t suit you!”

Rainbow stuck her tongue out at Spike’s retreating figure, turning to the empty library desk and wandering over, sitting herself in the seat behind it and resting her forelegs on the wooden table. She looked around at the library, casting her eye over the shelves of books and tables. She imagined, for a moment, that she was in charge, and that the library had become her domain. She was Rainbow Dash, Princess of the Books, and she decreed that all who entered her kingdom were to bow before her throne and pay their overdue fees.

Rainbow giggled softly to herself at the image, shaking her head. It was funny, but quite silly in the end—she couldn’t really see herself as the Princess-y type. Though she supposed that if she was Princess, she’d be in charge and nopony could make her try to act like that; she would be able to be as cool and carefree as she wanted, and nopony could do a thing to stop her.

She didn’t think she’d be Princess of Books, though. Twilight was probably a bit more qualified for that position.

She lay her head against the desk and used the wood to muffle her laughter as she tried to picture her marefriend as a Princess, sitting all regally on a throne of books and completely ignoring the court while she caught up on another chapter of Daring Do.

Oh, but if Twilight was a Princess she’d be able to go flying with her! Rainbow shook her head, dismissing the thought as ridiculous; Twilight wasn’t a Princess and neither was she, and such ideas would be nothing more than a silly little filly’s daydream.

The desk was comfortable, though, which was strange given how hard and wooden it had first seemed. It was almost as if it were a pillow; Rainbow could feel herself almost sinking into it, despite herself, and decided it was probably as good a time as any for a nap.

“Rainbow?” She opened her eyes, her vision filled with bright lavender fur. She blinked a few times, but the pastel colour was still there; she pushed herself up, yawning.

“H-hey Twi,” she said, her jaw stretching and working itself free. She felt a small crack in one of her cheeks and relaxed at the sensation, even as her marefriend winced.

“What are you doing behind the desk?” she asked. “I thought I’d left Spike in charge of the library.”

“You did,” Rainbow said, stopping to open and close her mouth slowly, rolling her tongue around the insides of her cheeks. “He’s in the history section, I think. At least, he was when I got here. How long have I been out?”

“It’s five thirty,” Twilight replied. “When did you get here?”

“Prob’ly ‘bout five,” Rainbow replied, yawning again. She almost felt awake, but there was a dull pressure behind her eyelids that made her want to just collapse against the desk again. “I dunno, I wasn’ really looking.”

Twilight glanced around a library quickly, before leaning down to give Rainbow a quick peck on the cheek. “Well, it’s good to see you here. Today’s been pretty stressy.”

“I heard,” Rainbow said, pushing her shoulders back and rolling them slightly. “Spike said you had a bunch of reading from Celestia or something.”

Twilight nodded, humming gently to herself in affirmation. She looked thoughtful, and somewhat pleased with herself.

“Rainbow?” she asked absently. Rainbow nodded, frowning. “I think we should tell everypony. About us, I mean.”

“What’s brought this on?” Rainbow asked, her lips quivering as they threatened to spread into a wide grin. Was Twilight really suggesting they let their friends know? Rainbow tried not to let herself get too excited (after all, you never quite knew with Twilight) but was finding it difficult not to.

“Celestia sent me a whole lot of reading on the history of the movement to get same-sex couples approved by society,” Twilight said. “I’ll be honest, it wasn’t something I’d ever really researched before because I’d always just thought that things had always been the way they were today, with a bunch of really vocal ponies firmly against it.

“But it turns out it used to be even worse,” Twilight continued. Rainbow smiled, surprised to find that, for the first time, there was something she knew more about than Twilight and it wasn’t flying. “And it was Celestia herself who spearheaded the change. You know she married Lady Wind Whistler just to help make same-sex couples accepted by the people?”

“I’d known it was an important turning point in the movement,” Rainbow said, her eyes wide any hopes of knowing more about something than Twilight gone. “But that she married her just to help make it seem acceptable? Doesn’t that seem a little… well, cruel?”

“What do you mean?” Twilight asked, frowning.

“Well think about it, Twi,” Rainbow said. “If she did that, it probably meant the marriage was one of convenience. Would you want to be married to somepony if you knew the wedding was just to help forward some civil rights movement, not one of actual love and commitment?”

“I don’t think Celestia didn’t love her,” Twilight replied, thoughtfully, “but I can see where you’re coming from. It would be a challenging relationship to build any confidence or trust in. Wind Whistler would likely have spent a lot of time wondering if it was real.”

They stood in silence for a moment. “Is it bad that I’m a little bit glad she might have had such an unhappy marriage, if it means I can be with you now and not have to worry about what our friends think?” Rainbow asked, just a little bit worried. “Does that make me a bad pony?”

“I don’t think so,” Twilight said, giving Rainbow a brief, affectionate nuzzle. “I think it makes you, well, pony. Anypony would probably do the same.”

“When’re we going to tell the others?” Rainbow asked, leaning into Twilight’s embrace. For a moment they just sat and held each other.

“I sent out some invitations at lunchtime today,” Twilight replied sheepishly. “I’ve invited everypony round for dinner tonight. Do you mind?” Rainbow looked up to see Twilight grimacing nervously, looking as if she were about to say something more to excuse her actions. Rainbow smiled softly.

“Of course not,” she said, her smile spreading into a grin as she watched Twilight’s face relax with relief. “I’ve wanted to tell them as soon as you were ready since, well, since we started dating. Who’s coming?”

“The girls are all coming,” Twilight said, her voice uncertain, “and Rarity is having to bring the Crusaders, since it was rather last-minute notice and she couldn’t send them off somewhere else. And Spike, of course; he’s offered to cook for tonight.”

“Do you think we should tell him first?” Rainbow asked, pulling Twilight close as she saw a sliver of doubt cross her mind. “Twi, if we’re going to tell the others, Spike will want to know. He’s practically your family, and I think he’d like to know what he’s really cooking for.”

“What am I cooking for?” Spike asked, and Rainbow and Twilight turned to face him, shocked to see the little dragon standing in the doorway, a comic book dangling from his claw. “And why are you two being all… cuddly?”

Twilight turned to send a panicked look at Rainbow, and Rainbow could feel Twilight’s heart beating fast beneath her coat. She gave her a quick squeeze of encouragement.

“Only if you want to,” she whispered, and Twilight nodded, her eyes squeezed tight shut.

“Are you okay, Twi?” Spike asked, worry colouring his tone. Twilight nodded again, fiercely this time.

“Yeah,” she said, her tone muted, as if she were struggling to find her voice. “I—I’m okay. Spike, Rainbow and I have something v-very important we want to tell everypony tonight, a-and it’s really important to me…” she turned and smiled at Rainbow nervously—she was shaking, and Rainbow could see the tears of worry forming in her eyes. Rainbow had known this would be a difficult thing for Twilight to do, but she’d never expected her marefriend to be quite so frightened of telling Spike. “To us,” she added, her voice a little stronger now.

“Uh, sure,” Spike said, clearly confused by Twilight’s behaviour. “I was going to make something really special anyway. What’s the big news?”

Twilight looked again at Rainbow, her eyes pleading. Rainbow shook her head gently—Twilight had to be the one to say it, at least this first time. Though she could see the fear in her marefriend’s eyes, she knew that she would only feel worse if she’d let Rainbow Dash tell Spike about this.

“Spike,” she said, after taking a deep breath. Rainbow gave her another supportive squeeze. “Rainbow and I are dating.”

Rainbow heard the breath catch in Twilight’s throat the moment she spoke, and watched as her eyes flew wide open. She turned her attention to Spike, who was watching the two closely, as if waiting for something.

“... that’s it?” he asked, after a moment’s silence. “Huh. I thought from your reaction it was something big and scary.”

“You’re not… you don’t hate me?” Twilight asked, her voice quiet and surprised. Spike laughed, loudly, his chuckles filling the room.

“Twi, why would I hate you?” Spike said. “You finally got yourself a special somepony; if anything, I’m pleased for you!”

Rainbow wrapped a wing around Twilight’s shoulders and pecked her on the cheek.

“Told you so,” she whispered, a smirk on her face. Twilight’s face was a perfect mix of amazed and shocked, and Rainbow found herself wanting nothing more than to press her lips against Twilight’s, so she did.

“Just because I’m pleased for you doesn’t mean I don’t think you two should get a room,” Spike muttered, walking into the kitchen and letting the door slam behind him. Rainbow started chuckling, her muzzle still pressed to Twilight’s, and soon the two were laughing as they kissed, their bodies moving in spasms of bliss.

“See?” Rainbow said as they pulled apart, breathless. “I told you it would be fine.” Twilight gave a smile, the first real, true smile she had had since she admitted she wanted this. She was beautiful when she smiled.

The moment was broken by a loud knocking at the door—Rainbow and Twilight sprang apart, as Twilight went to open the door and Rainbow stepped out from behind the desk self-consciously. Twilight laid a hoof on the door handle and the thought flashed through Rainbow’s mind to question why her marefriend wasn’t simply using her magic as she always would. The answer came almost immediately: she was scared.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispered, and saw the brief flicker of a determined smile on Twilight’s face as she pulled the door open. Standing in the doorway was Pinkie Pie, who was bouncing on the spot and grinning like a maniac.

“Hi Twilight!” she all but shouted, bouncing her way inside. “It’s soo good to see you! And you’re having a dinner party, too! I love dinner parties, they’re like normal parties but instead of playing games and loud music I get to just spend some time with my bestest friends in the whoooooole world and eat lots of scrummy food and generally—”

“Hello Pinkie,” Twilight interrupted, shaking her head at the hyperactive pony’s antics. “It’s good to see you here, too.”

“So what’s the big announcement?” Pinkie asked. “Oh! No! Don’t tell me, I wanna guess!” Her face scrunched up in concentration for a second, as Rainbow and Twilight exchanged exasperated looks. “Oo! Are you getting promoted in your research? Are you having a secret affair with a top member of the Canterlot elite? Are you getting published? Are you writing a comprehensive thesis on the Breezie migration? Are you baking a giant—”

“Pinkie, I think the idea is she’s going to tell us when everypony gets here,” Rainbow said dryly, as the bashing sound of knocking rang out through the library again. Twilight pulled open the door to find Rarity and Applejack standing side-by side, the Cutie Mark Crusaders standing warily behind their legs. Twilight gestured for the five of them to enter, greeting each of them with a warm smile and a quick hug: Scootaloo bounded straight out of Twilight’s forelegs and ran up to Rainbow Dash, grinning.

“Rainbow Dash!” she cried, throwing herself at the older pegasus. Rainbow grunted as the cannonball of orange fur hit her right in the chest, almost knocking her over. “I managed to glide a hundred feet today!”

Rainbow felt her lips stretch into a wide grin, but at the same time she felt her heart skip a beat. If Scootaloo was improving at gliding, it wouldn’t be long before she found out… Rainbow sighed and shook her head, deciding instead to revel in the success of her little sister.

“Only a hundred feet?” she asked, exaggerating her sigh. “I dunno Scoots, that doesn’t sound that impressive…” she chuckled before pulling the little filly close, hugging her tight and whispering in her ear, “I’m really proud of you. You’ve done good.”

Rainbow’s heart broke a little at the grin on Scootaloo’s face, and the delighted hug she gave her.

“Yeah, it was really amazing!” Sweetie Belle squeaked. “Oh, you should have seen her!”

“I still reckon she went at least two hundred,” Apple Bloom added, grinning as she stood and watched her friend.

“Apple Bloom, the field isn’t even two hundred feet long,” Sweetie replied, shooting her friend a look of tired disappointment. “But it did look really far!” she added, as Apple Bloom replied with her own, challenging gaze.

“Well, I for one am glad that Scootaloo is doing so well at her gliding,” Rarity said, “but I must admit I’m a little more intrigued about what kind of special surprise Twilight has in store for us tonight.”

“Well, she’s not getting a promotion, or having an affair, or getting published, or writing a thesis, or baking a giant cupcake army to lead into battle and usurp the throne, so I got nothing,” Pikie added helpfully. The room was quiet for a few seconds as everypony digested what Pinkie had said and quickly gave up on trying to understand the way her mind worked.

“Well, I’m sure we can wait until Fluttershy turns up,” Applejack said. “Though I hope she doesn’t take too long. I gotta admit, I’m getting a little worked up with anticipation.”

“You’re getting worked up, AJ?” Rainbow asked, her eyebrows raised. “What’ve you got to worry about?”

“With th’urgency Twi here sent her message, I thought it was probably something real important, like if she’d gotten herself pregnant or was moving back to Canterlot or som—”

Applejack was interrupted by Twilight and Rainbow’s raucous laughter, after they shared a knowing look. She frowned at them for a few moments and let them regain their composure a little before asking, “Is there somethin’ I’m missin’ here?”

“I think it’s something we’re all missing, darling,” Rarity said, shrugging. The Crusaders were exchanging confused glances.

“Uh, sis?” Apple Bloom asked. “How could Twilight get herself pregnant? Miss Cheerilee was talkin’ to us ‘bout this th’other week, and she said—”

“It’s a figure of speech, Apple Bloom,” Twilight said, chuckling at the embarrassed look on Applejack’s face, and the horrified look on Rarity’s. “And to answer your question before you ask it, Sweetie Belle: no, I wouldn’t have been able to do that with some arcane spell from the archives. There isn’t one.”

“You’ve looked?” Rainbow asked, smirking as Twilight blushed a deep violet; and so it was that, when Fluttershy finally arrived at the library, everypony inside was rocking with laughter, standing around a furiously blushing Twilight.

“Uhm, I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, meekly. “Did I miss anything important?”

“It’s okay, Fluttershy,” Twilight replied. “Rainbow Dash just asked something rather personal and I’m afraid my response seems rather more amusing than I had thought it was.”

The laughter was subsiding; Rainbow was smiling cheekily at Twilight, who was glaring at her with an unimpressed look, but thanks in her eyes.

“Well then, I guess we’re all here now,” Rarity began, but was stopped mid sentence by a call from the kitchen.

“Dinner’s ready!” Everypony turned to the kitchen at Spike’s call, and an unspoken agreement passed through the room that whatever was going to be said could be said over food.

Squeezing all of them around the table in the kitchen was tough, and Rainbow found herself tightly pressed between Scootaloo and Twilight (she wouldn’t let anypony else sit next to Twilight, and rather rudely pushed Rarity out of her way to the seat: she made sure to apologise afterwards and Rarity shrugged it off). Somehow they managed, although Sweetie Belle was almost unable to move between the other two Crusaders and Fluttershy had very nearly gone without a place, she was so timid and insistent that everypony else deserved a spot. Spike managed to squeeze in on Twilight’s other side, as Twilight levitated the dishes from the counter to the table.

Spike hadn’t disappointed—the dinner was an astounding spread of exotic treats, with a little bit of Griffon and even traditional Crystal Empire cuisine making their appearances in what Spike had dubbed his ‘A Little Bit of Everything’ spread. Rainbow smiled at how he tried to catch Rarity’s eye throughout his over-the-top descriptions, the kind of wording she’d imagined a waiter at a fancy, Canterlot restaurant would use.

Everypony tucked in quickly, Spike’s eclectic spread containing something everypony enjoyed and Rainbow was surprised to see that Spike had paid attention to not only her personal favourites, but also all of the girls—with the exception of the Crusaders, Spike had included everypony’s favourite meals in some form or another (at least, Rainbow hoped he had, but since dessert had yet to be served she wasn’t entirely sure that Pinkie’s favourite would make its way to the table. Besides, nopony quite made cupcakes like Pinkie Pie.) Spike tried to hide his blush as everypony told him how good his food was, but Rainbow couldn’t help but notice the dreamy expression on his face when Rarity added her voice to the praise.

“So now we’re all sittin’ and eatin’,” Applejack began, “y’all wan’ to tell us why we’re here?” The table grew quiet as Twilight looked down at the table, biting her lip. Rainbow gave her a gently, affectionate nudge, and she could see Spike’s claw resting gently atop her foreleg.

“I wanted to bring you all here tonight to share with you one of the m-most incredible things that has happened in my life.” Twilight’s voice was shaking and her eyes were closed. She was quiet, yet everypony could hear her perfectly. Rainbow tried to hide her proud smile as Twilight looked up at last, sighing, and cast her eyes around the table.

“When I first arrived in Ponyville, I’d never really had a friend outside my family in my whole life,” she began. “And within a day, I’d discovered just how wonderful, just how magical friendship can be. Since I’ve moved here I’ve learned so much, not just about friendship but about myself. I’d like to think that knowing all of you has changed me, and for the better.

“It wasn’t until about half a year ago that I started thinking about pursuing something more than friendship with anypony—I had been so overwhelmed by how wonderful friendship could be, I never stopped to think about romance, and love. But spending so much time with Cadance lately got me thinking more and more about when I might meet that special somepony.” Twilight chuckled, and smiled. Even Pinkie Pie was staring in rapt attention. “It never occurred to me that I might have already met them.

“For the last three months, I’ve been seeing somepony, and I feel kinda terrible for not letting you girls know about it.” Various cries of ‘don’t be silly’ and the like flew around the table, but Twilight raised a hoof to silence them. “I was afraid, and it’s a fear I’ve had since I was a filly, since I watched other fillies being bullied for it. I was afraid to open up to you on this issue, but gathering you all here tonight has reminded me that if there are any ponies in all of Equestria I can trust with anything, it’s you.”

Twilight was silent again for the longest time. She seemed to have started staring off into the distance, fondly remembering something from times gone by. As Rainbow was about to say something, she turned and looked at her with a wide smile of acknowledgement, before turning back to the rest of the table.

“Rainbow Dash and I have been dating,” Twilight said, finally, almost rushing the words out. She smiled nervously and looked around the table. Everypony remained silent, digesting the news.

“Oh. My. Goodness!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed after an eternal moment’s pause, squealing with delight and somehow contorting her body to reach across the table, drawing Rainbow and Twilight into a bone-crushing hug. “I’m so excited for you guys! Oh! You’ve got to let me throw a ‘My Best Friends Are Together And Are Totally The Cutest Couple In Ponyville’ Party!”

Rainbow laughed at that, smiling at Twilight reassuringly and soon enough everypony around the table was laughing and crying and congratulating the couple. Twilight was overwhelmed by the response, but Rainbow could see in her eyes a shining happiness, the very same kind of happiness that she saw as they ran up the stairs in the Castle of the Two Sisters. It was a glimmering, hopeful kind of happiness.

And Rainbow was staring at her, and she was staring right back. And the voices of their friends faded to nothing, and there was nothing in the world but the two of them as their lips touched and their eyes closed. It didn’t matter that there were other ponies out there who would hate them for it—Rainbow knew that, for tonight, they had each other, and nothing could take that away.

Chapter 11: Tortellini au Fromage

The park was quieter now than it had been when they arrived, Rainbow realised. Maybe it was the sun that was setting low in the sky (and was it just her or had sunset suddenly gotten so much earlier in the day?) or the chiming of the town clock, but something had driven the ponies who had been laughing and playing away. The same thing was probably what had told them it was time to leave, the unspoken agreement that passed between Rainbow and Scootaloo as they trudged towards the muddy hoofpath into town.

“Thanks,” Scootaloo said, simply.

“No problem, squirt,” Rainbow replied. “I needed the chance to get up in the air and de-stress before tonight.” The filly giggled as she walked beside her, and Rainbow shot her a disapproving look.

“Sorry,” she said, quietly, even though she wasn’t. “I just have a hard time imagining that you of all ponies would be stressed about something like this.”

Rainbow shrugged, sighing.

“Maybe I’m allowed to be nervous,” she said. “I’ve got to make a good impression on your new folks, and I’m not thoroughly convinced they’re the kind of ponies my normal first impression of awesomeness would work on.” Scootaloo giggled again, and Rainbow grinned at her. “Besides, I’m not used to meeting ponies for proper, fancy dinners.”

“Surely you’ve been invited for things like this with the Princess, though?” Scootaloo asked. “I mean, you’ve saved the entire freaking world enough times that they would be crazy not to want to hang out with you!”

“Oh?” Rainbow questioned, smirking. “Am only cool enough to hang out with because I save the world, huh?”

“N-no!” Scootaloo replied, tripping over her words, and Rainbow burst out cackling at the look of horror on her face, which quickly turned to a scowl. “Rainbow Dash, that isn’t funny.”

“You sound just like Twilight when you sat that, Squirt,” Rainbow said, rubbing the filly’s mane affectionately. Scootaloo squirmed beneath her hoof, making a face. “That’s a compliment!” Rainbow added. “Twilight’s cool.”

“Yeah, but she’s also a librarian, which isn’t,” Scootaloo argued, and Rainbow snorted. The little filly might have had a point, although Scootaloo hadn’t seen Twilight’s ruthless efficiency at shelving. There was something almost beautiful in the way she lost herself amid the floating streams of books, taking each to their new allotted location, her eyes closed as the room filled with her magic.

Almost beautiful. Not actually beautiful, of course, because that was lame, but it was the kind of awesome that wrapped her up and refused to let her tear her eyes away. It wasn’t really beautiful, but the word would do—so long as she didn’t say it out loud.

Eventually the two pegasi reached the gates of the park, and Rainbow stood frozen by indecision at the crossroads. Scootaloo stood just behind her, uncertainly standing by her back legs.

“Uh, Rainbow? Why’d you stop?” Scootaloo asked. Rainbow turned her neck back to look at her sister and grimaced.

“Which way are we going?”

Scootaloo snorted and took the lead, Rainbow following close behind as the filly took them through the backstreets of Ponyville, working her way stealthily through the town—almost as if she were trying to avoid being seen. It wasn’t until they entered a back alley (the very same one, Rainbow remembered, where she had pinned Pinkie Pie to the ground and unmasked her during the Mare Do Well incident) that Rainbow began to grow suspicious. She stopped in her tracks; it seemed like it took a moment for Scootaloo to register the lack of her hoofsteps as she kept walking boldy down the alleyway, but soon enough she turned around.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, trotting gently back towards Rainbow and tilting her head to one side. “Why’ve you stopped?”

“I’m just a little worried, is all,” Rainbow said, taking a deep breath. “Are you sure you know where we’re going?”

“Of course I know,” Scootaloo replied. “I just, uhm… I just wanted to avoid the main streets because my parents wanted to send…” Scootaloo’s voice dropped to an inaudible mutter. Rainbow frowned.

“What was that, squirt?” She asked. Scootaloo sighed in frustration and, if the colour of her cheeks were anything to go by, embarrassment.

“They wanted to send a carriage to collect us from the park and drive us back,” Scootaloo said, “and I didn’t want the driver to spot us so I thought it would be nice to take the route through the alleyways.”

“Why’d you not want to take the carriage?” Rainbow replied, pushing the more pressing question of how rich anypony would have to be to send a carriage to collect their daughter from a park barely ten minutes walk away. “I mean, I get that it’s all weird and fancy, but don’t you think your parents’ll get worried?”

“I’m sure they can live with it,” Scootaloo replied. “Besides, I’m with you. It’s not like I’m in any danger.” Rainbow smiled as Scootaloo confidently walked onwards, and made sure to follow behind as closely as she could. She didn’t want anypony seeing Scootaloo seemingly alone in the alleyways, not now that the sun was setting and it was getting so dark in the spaces between the houses.

Eventually, they emerged from the maze of back streets and came out on a small road that lead a little way out of town. Rainbow remembered that it was on this road that Filthy Rich and his daughter lived, and she was suddenly more worried for Scootaloo’s wellbeing than she had been since she heard the filly had gotten adopted. She walked a little closer to her.

As they walked up the road, Rainbow saw three grand, large mansions appear on the horizon at the top of the small ridge overlooking the town, barely high enough to call itself a hill but certainly enough to give the impression of looking down on the rest of the town. Rainbow was unsurprised that this, of all places, was where Ponyville’s elite chose to live.

They turned towards the house on the far right, walking down a long, gravel driveway that made the house seem, somehow, larger. It took all of Rainbow’s strength and willpower not to pick Scootaloo up in her hooves and fly the whole way down the drive, landing in the space at the end with a roll and a bow to the doorstallion, whose jaw would drop and hooves would stomp on the ground.

… sometimes, Rainbow realised, she got just a little bit carried away with her daydreams.

“So,” she said, clearing her throat, “fancy place you’ve got here.”

“Yeah,” Scootaloo replied sadly. “It feels kinda empty inside. Like there’s nothing really there, you know? It’s got so much space and so many rooms, but all of them are empty or only really have a hooffull of ponies in them at once. It seems like a bit of a waste of it all, like this is a house built for dozens and dozens of ponies yet it’s just the three of us in there.”

Rainbow nodded. “I think I get it. It’s like if you ever get to go into the town hall while nopony’s in there—the space just seems too large and you start wishing somepony will show up to fill it.”

“Exactly!” Scootaloo exclaimed, as they began to step into the large, open section of the drive, where a lone carriage stood parked. The driver trotted over to them.

“Miss Scootaloo!” he said, “Why weren’t you at the park like you said you’d be?”

“I’m sorry,” Rainbow said, cutting Scootaloo off before she got herself in trouble. “I suggested we walked back, and completely forgot about the carriage ride. It’s my fault.”

The driver turned to her with beady, squinting eyes.

“Alright,” he said, slowly and distrustfully, “but you’d better be careful not to do it again. I don’t like having to go out and wait in the cold for that long, and then not even get paid for it because my client doesn’t show up.”

Rainbow didn’t quite know what to say—the stallion’s tone was bitter and a little angrier than she’d anticipated. She really hadn’t thought anypony could be quite so upset about this.

“We’re really very sorry, sir,” Scootaloo said, her eyes wide and sorrowful and not for the first time Rainbow wished she was still young so she could pull that trick off; the driver’s expression calmed significantly, though he was clearly still annoyed. “I’ll make sure we don’t forget next time. You can count on me!” Her little smile was adorable and enough to make anypony trust her—Rainbow was more than a little surprised that her younger sister was quite so good at getting what she wanted the ponies around her. It was something she expected more from Sweetie Belle than Scootaloo. Perhaps the Crusaders had been taking lessons.

The stallion huffed and shook his hoof at them, shooing them away with a mutter and a shake of his head. All in all, Rainbow felt that had gone rather well.

They approached the front door of the mansion, where the doorstallion stood stoic and still. The walked up the steps carefully, Rainbow taking extra care on the steps that were just too thin to be easily climbed.

“Miss Scootaloo,” the doorstallion greeted as they neared him. “We were getting worried about you. The master and mistress are in the dining room already—they have had to start the soup without the two of you, as the chef refused to let it go cold and needed the stove to finish the main course.” For a moment, his stoic expression shifted a fraction, and Rainbow was certain he had nearly rolled his eyes. He turned his attention to her, instead. “Miss Rainbow Dash, I presume?”

“Uh, yeah,” she said, shakily. “That’s me.”

“You are also required in the dining room, as soon as you possibly can. I believe Miss Scootaloo can direct you perfectly adequately.” He held the door open for them, and the two mares trotted inside, wary that they probably needed to move fast. Rainbow barely had time to look at the wide, tall hallways and elegant statues and windows that filled the place—Scootaloo had her turning around corners and walking down corridors before she even knew where she was going.

Somehow, sooner than she had time to think about the deep red carpets and the white marble walls that seemed almost like Canterlot Castle and yet, at the same time, were just missing something that made them seem dead, Rainbow found herself standing in the doorway of a large dining hall, a huge table lined up the middle of the room and roaring fires lit in the fireplaces on either wall. Seated at the far end of the table were two earth ponies, a stallion and a mare, impeccably dressed and eating patiently—on the table, beside the mare, lay a pile of grey wool and knitting needles.

She heard Scootaloo swallow and walk slowly up the room towards the head of the table; Rainbow followed slowly, taking in the portraits and tapestries and two bowls of tomato soup that sat, forgotten, in the next two seats along.

Rainbow sat down next to Scootaloo, who was already quietly eating. Her father—what was his name? Ceasar? Yes: Rainbow could just see his cutie mark, a laurel that matched his wife’s—was pointedly ignoring the two of them. Rainbow looked around for a moment or two, uncertain of quite what she had to do, before catching the mare’s gentle smile and nod. She tucked in to the soup, which was was getting a little cold but still tasted excellent.

“Miss Rainbow Dash, if you could please refrain from slurping at your soup like a foal that would be most pleasant for the rest of us.” Rainbow’s hoof froze with her third spoonful barely touching her lips, taking a deep breath as she turned to face Ceasar.

“Sorry,” she said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

There was a lot to remember about eating at a proper dinner table, Rainbow found, and it was quite difficult for her to get the hang of it. The slurping wasn’t hard—she would usually have avoided that wherever possible when in company anyway, and if she hadn’t been so focused on how good the soup itself tasted she’d have probably remained silent—but Rainbow soon found herself baffled by the sheer number of pieces of cutlery laid on the table and Ceasar managed to find something offensive in which ones she chose to eat with for most courses. It was only when his wife, Dainty, pointed out that it was ‘proper to begin with the outmost cutlery’ that Rainbow finally understood that she had even been doing anything wrong. A fork was still a fork, right?

Their soups had been replaced with bowlfuls of strange, ring-shaped pasta that Rainbow hadn’t seen before. She nearly made things worse by trying to tuck in before Ceasar had begun, but a warning glare from Dainty had kept her from eating just in time. After Ceasar smiled curtly and nodded to the stallion at his side (presumably a butler of some kind? The stallion’s clothes were formal yet plain, clearly quite burdensome) dainty and Scootaloo made to eat, and Rainbow raised one of the strange loops to her muzzle, popping it past her lips and biting down on the soft pasta to find that it was filled with a pleasant, soft cheese.

She’d never had this kind of food before, and it was good.

By the time the main course had ended, the silence was getting to Rainbow Dash—nopony had said a word except to tell her that something she was doing was wrong, and Rainbow didn’t like that. She didn’t like the way the silence was making her feel like she had to say nothing, too, that she couldn’t stand up and defend herself from the accusations.

She cleared her throat. Scootaloo looked up, a little hopeful and a little scared; Dainty turned to look at her with a wry, knowing smile; and Ceasar didn’t even acknowledge the sound, not even looking up from his dessert.

“I just wanted to say sorry,” Rainbow said, her voice sounding like thunder compared to the silence of the room before. “It’s my fault that Scootaloo and I were late, and I’m sorry I’ve kept you waiting.” That was why they’d been giving them the silent treatment, wasn’t it? Rainbow couldn’t think of any other reason for it.

Ceasar continued to ignore her, but Dainty nodded politely.

“Thank you, Miss Dash,” she replied. “You’re forgiven, though I’d ask that you don’t do it again. We were really rather worried about Scootaloo.”

Rainbow smiled sheepishly back at her.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure I don’t forget next time,” she said, rubbing the back of her head with her hoof. “Thank you for inviting me for dinner tonight,” she added. “It’s really tasty, even if I don’t really know very much about eating fancy meals like this.”

Rainbow bit her lip. She wasn’t really used to being this humble and she was finding it difficult to remember that here was somewhere that it was okay to be uncool. It wasn’t comfortable, though, like it was when she was around Twilight, and perhaps that was because she wasn’t being herself, either—instead, she was playing the part of somepony meek and quiet, apologising for things she hadn’t even known were wrong, and it irked her. Still, she wanted to correct the poor impression she’d made at first. She’d do whatever was required of her if it meant making Scootaloo’s life a little bit easier.

“You’re very welcome,” Dainty replied. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” She turned to face the little filly beside Rainbow, her smile still sweet and warm. “Scootaloo, dear, how was your day?”

“It was great!” Scootaloo replied. “I finally got the hang of long division, and Miss Cheerilee says my maths is getting a lot better this last week. And Rainbow Dash took me for a really awesome glide around the park.”

“Have your grades been improving?” Ceasar barely even looked up whilst asking the questions, still keeping his eyes on his dessert.

“Not yet,” Scootaloo said, nervously. “But I think I’ve got the idea now—”

“Then you still need to put in more work,” Ceasar said, simply. “I assume you have homework to do: after dinner you can go the study and get it done.”

“Yes, sir,” Scootaloo replied meekly, looking down at the plate of chocolate mousse that sat before her. She seemed uncomfortable addressing him, not quite catching her eye where she had been perfectly happy to sit and talk with Dainty. Rainbow Dash eyed Ceasar warily as he kept his eyes down on the food before him, trying to see if he was paying any attention to the noises around him. It took her very little time at all to decide that he either was not or he was very good at ignoring the world around him—presumably when he wanted to make a point, as it seemed he had been doing all evening (although what that point was Rainbow couldn’t even begin to guess.) She turned back to her mousse; after the pasta she’d found she was rather full, and the rich, dark chocolate was almost too much for her.

And after that, silence returned again. When Scootaloo finished her mousse, she muttered her excuses and left to get her homework done. Rainbow watched her retreating figure as she walked out of the room.

“Well, Miss Dash,” Ceasar said the moment the door closed behind Scootaloo. Rainbow looked up to see him glaring at her, his eyes hostile and dark. “The purpose of this meal was for me to get a chance to meet my daughter’s surrogate sister and to decide whether or not she was suitable. I wanted to give you a chance to show me how you coped in the role. You’ve disappointed me, Rainbow Dash.”

“Come now, dear—”

“You arrive late, letting your starters get cold and keeping us waiting for our main course,” Ceasar continued, ignoring his wife’s protest. Rainbow sat, frozen once more. “You do not even bother to have learned the proper table manners any foal should know, you are impolite and obstinate, you address me before I address you and above, and beyond all else you do not know your place.”

“My place?” Rainbow asked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“This is exactly what I mean,” Ceasar said with a sigh, holding his head in his hoof. “Your place, Miss Dash, is not to question me. Your place is as Scootaloo’s sister; you are an advisor to her, not an advisor to me. You have failed to impress me Miss Dash. Have a good evening; the butler will show you out.”

Rainbow rose, as if in a trance, uncertain why she was leaving and not staying to fight her corner—to fight Scootaloo’s corner. Despite herself, she walked away, leaving behind her a half-eaten bowl of chocolate mousse and a scrunched-up napkin.

As she left the house—she didn’t even stop to let the waiter show her through the halls, finding that she knew the route through the corridors despite how confused and disoriented she had been when she first walked through them—she spread her wings and took to the sky, flapping powerfully to pull herself up. She soared high above the roof, above the clouds, until she was so high she could almost see Canterlot at her eye level, the mass of bright lights on the mountain in the distance catching her eye like a firefly near a lantern.

She started to fly towards the distant city, but dropped down below the cloud cover after a moment, looking down and scanning the town for the library. Spotting the tree, she tilted herself downwards, leaning to the left as she declined and spread her wings out, simply gliding. It was a curious sensation, one that almost felt like falling forwards, but Rainbow found that nowadays it always reminded her of her evenings with Scootaloo in the park.

She smiled as she fell, her eyes closed, thinking. She only just opened her eyes in time to avoid crashing into the library, quickly angling her dive to avoid the glass windows and roll down onto the porch.

She felt her body slam against the porch, the thud of the impact flowing through her body and momentarily freezing her. By the time she was able to pull herself up from the ground, Twilight was standing over her, her magic wrapping around her. It was warm and comfortable and familiar; Rainbow had always been surprised by how much Twilight’s magic felt like Twilight, even though it was little more than a light tingling sensation and a warm glow. It was different when Rarity’s magic held her, not that that happened all too often.

She found herself being floated inside, and though she expected Twilight to drop her on the floor, to stand and chat for a while, she was surprised to find the unicorn carrying her up the stairs, walking slowly behind her, a bright and mischievous glint in her eye, and suddenly the evening didn’t feel like it had gone quite so badly.

Chapter 12: Hilltop Picnic

Rainbow remembered being nervous—it was, despite her outward appearance and her best attempts to maintain a cool and calm image to the public, one of the greatest constants in her life. She remembered the feeling she had right before the Best Young Flyer competition, and the crippling fear of failure that had so many times gotten the better of her, had reduced her to little more than a sobbing wreck on the ground, or a nervous little filly staring at everything as if she was afraid the very clouds would come to life and gobble her up.

Tonight, Rainbow felt all of the nerves she had ever felt pale in comparison to her fear, her worry and her distress. This was the night she had been waiting for for a month, now, the night when everything she had been dreaming of would either be crushed or realised, and Rainbow was no longer entirely sure that she really wanted to know which it would be.

She stood on the porch of the library, her hoof raised. She had been standing like that for what seemed like a minute, now, and Rainbow was still incapable of lowering her hoof, whether it be to knock or to give up and go home. Both options frightened her, and Rainbow was completely unsure what she should do now.

What do you do when your only options are both terrifying?

Rainbow swallowed, taking deep, uneven breaths in a failed attempt to calm her nerves. Of course it wasn’t working—it never worked, because some things were just facts of life and one of these was that Rainbow Dash was not good at dealing with fear. If she had one thing she hated about herself, it was that.

She had thought she had made up her mind (although she had already thought that twenty times that evening, and look where that had got her!) and tried to move her hoof down. Just as she began to do so, her eyes closed from fear, she heard the gentle tingling sound of light bells and was surprised to find her hoof made no contact with wood. Instead, she felt her hoof glance off a soft, sharp surface and opened her eyes to see Twilight standing in the doorway, her eyes wide and her mouth twisted in a little expression of pain and surprise. Rainbow felt her eyes shoot wide open, and she started to talk before she could even begin to think.

“Oh my gosh Twilight I’m so sorry I didn’t realise you were opening the door I was just getting so afraid of knocking that I had to close my eyes to do it and oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh I am so, so sorry I’m not supposed to hit you—”

“Rainbow Dash?” Twilight asked, cutting Rainbow’s rambling off, her brows furrowing in question. “What are you doing here? And why are you so afraid to just knock on my door? You know it’s a library and the door is unlocked most of the day, right?”

Rainbow swallowed.

“I, uh, yeah,” she said, confidently. “I knew that.”

“So what’s got you so worked up?” Twilight asked, smiling at her, but continued speaking just as she tried to open her mouth to reply. “And don’t try to apologise for hitting me. It was an honest mistake; I know you’d never do that on purpose.”

Rainbow closed her mouth again, her words taken away from her. She tried to reformulate her thoughts, keeping her mouth shut to stop it from saying anything before she was ready to. She wasn’t going to blunder into this like she had with Applejack, all those years ago—though it was nice to know a friendship could heal after that kind of rejection (and Rainbow wasn’t entirely sure it would have were it not for the Elements of Harmony) Rainbow wasn’t entirely sure she could deal with the few months of awkward glances and uncertainty that would undoubtedly follow if she messed this up. Tonight, she had to get things just right.

“Rainbow?” Twilight said, tapping her hoof against the floor. “I was actually trying to go somewhere when I opened this door, you know.”

Rainbow’s eyes opened wide in panic. She couldn’t let Twilight go away tonight! She had spent so long trying to get everything perfectly arranged.

“Oh?” Rainbow replied, casually. “Where are you going to?”

Smooth and simple. Easy. Her eyes weren’t still wide, she was sure, and her momentary expression of panic couldn’t have been noticed by Twilight. She was definitely not still panicking; she slid herself gently to one side, allowing Twilight room to push past her (and she definitely didn’t deliberately leave just too little space for Twilight to avoid rubbing against her on the way out, because she wasn’t that desperate to feel the warmth of Twilight’s coat against hers, the soft texture of her fur rubbing against her sides.)

“I was heading out to Sugarcube Corner, actually,” Twilight said. “I’ve spent all day studying and I really felt like getting a sundae. Would you like to join me?”

“Oh,” Rainbow said, her voice not dropping in disappointment. “Yeah, that would be nice, I guess. I mean, I was coming over here because I’d wanted to see if you’d like to go for a picnic, but Sugarcube Corner is good, too.”

“A picnic?” Twilight asked, confused. “Rainbow, you’re being almost as random as Pinkie Pie.”

“Well, you know me,” Rainbow said with a chuckle. “I’m always spontaneous!” There was something missing from her voice, Rainbow Dash knew, but she couldn’t quite put her hoof on it. Even in her head, she didn’t quite sound like herself—she sounded like a nervous, scared little filly and Rainbow didn’t like that one bit.

Twilight hummed for a moment, thinking. “You know, I haven’t been on a picnic since we had that one before Shining and Cadance’s wedding,” she mused. “It sounds like a lovely idea!”

Rainbow couldn’t stop the huge grin that broke out across her features, although she knew it was totally uncool. For Celestia’s sake, she was supposed to be playing it cool tonight, being smooth and casual and friendly, not messing up and beaming at even the prospect of having a picnic with Twi! It felt like she was a schoolfilly again, asking Gilda out for their first date—trying to act cool and failing miserably.

“Are we meeting the other girls somewhere?”

And just like that, there went her grin. Rainbow scolded herself mentally, wincing at the harsh words she thought; she was being stupid! Twilight had no way to know that she was trying to invite her on a date, what subtext could she possibly pick that up from? Twi may have been a genius, but she wasn’t smart enough to work things out with no clues whatsoever to go on.

“I was, uh,” Rainbow said, her sentence cut off by racking coughs. She spluttered for a moment, breathing deeply and slowly to calm herself down as Twilight watched on with wide, concerned eyes. Way to go, Dash, way to go.

“I was hoping we could just hang out together,” Rainbow said. It was more a question than a statement, though she tried not to phrase it like one; she had to sound confident. “I packed some Daring Do books—I thought it might be nice to just sit and read, or chat over dinner or something.”

“Aw, Rainbow,” Twilight said, sticking her tongue out in jest, “that’s so sweet of you.” She batted her eyelids suggestively at Rainbow Dash and Rainbow had to keep her heart in check as it fluttered like a butterfly in her chest, light and fast and almost chaotic. It was only a joke, she shouldn’t overreact to it.

She maintained her composure just enough to wink playfully back at Twilight, who laughed and grinned at her. Rainbow grinned back, wide and unrestrained and she wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t blushing.

“Okay, Rainbow Dash,” Twilight said, smiling brightly. “A picnic it is. Where are you taking me?” Twilight chuckled, almost nervously, to herself, before adding, “You know, it almost does sound like a date when I say that.”

“Would you care to accompany me to the top of yonder hill, fair maiden?” Rainbow asked, bowing deeply before Twilight, mostly just to hide her burning face. This was not how it was meant to go, and Rainbow was having difficulty thinking how she could possibly get the evening back on track after this.

Twilight giggled and swatted playfully at Dash’s head, the latter rising from her bow and trying her best to grin cheekily.

“You know,” Twilight said, “for such a ‘cool’ and ‘awesome’ pony, you can be a bit of a dork sometimes.” Rainbow opened her mouth wide in mock indignation, holding her hoof to her chest as if she had been injured.

“You wound me, madame,” she said, doing her best impression of Rarity in her ‘woe is me’ mood. “My reputation lies in shatters! However shall I survive this ordeal?” Twilight rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Hey,” she said softly, “I’m a dork. I thought you made a pretty cute dork.”

Rainbow completely failed to hide her blush, she was so stopped in her tracks by that statement. Twilight laughed once more. “Wow, Rainbow Dash,” she said, “you’re really easy tonight. It’s like you’re just setting yourself up for these.”

Rainbow muttered darkly to herself—mostly nonsense syllables, if she was honest. It was more for the effect than anything else. She made sure the word ‘easy’ was audible, though, as if she resented the implication Twilight had made. The unicorn frowned for a second before blushing deeply herself, her eyes wide.

“No, I didn’t mean—” she began, before noticing the mischievous glint in Rainbow’s eye. “Oh, har har,” she said, her voice flat. “Very funny. Shall we just get going?”

Rainbow snorted and nodded, turning towards the hill in the distance, just outside Ponyville. Twilight soon fell into step beside her as they walked, their hoofsteps matching up stride for stride. They walked in silence for a little while, each thinking about the exchange they had just had.

After a few minutes, just as they passed the last houses at the edge of Ponyville, Twilight spoke up.

“Hey, Rainbow?” she asked. “Not to be nosy or anything, but since when did you walk this kind of journey?”

Rainbow frowned. “Are you saying I can’t walk?” she asked. “You do remember the Running of the Leaves, right?”

“All I really remember is beating you in a race,” Twilight said, smirking. Rainbow glared at her and she dropped the smirk, grimacing in apology—clearly this was still a sore spot or, at the very least, Rainbow’s particularly tense mind was thinking of it as one, even if it hadn’t been in a long while.

“Sorry,” Rainbow said after a while. “You were having a bit of fun and I reacted like a jerk—actually, that goes for after the Running of the Leaves, too. I was really mean to you that day.”

“No you weren’t,” Twilight said, confused. “I just remember you being surprised that I beat you, which is how anypony should react—”

“Really Twi?” Rainbow asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the expert on friendship—do you really think a good friend should react with shock and surprise rather than congratulating their friend on an amazing achievement? I mean, hay, you placed in that race; that’s really impressive for a first-timer.”

“Thanks,” Twilight said, quietly, “but I still think you reacted normally.” Twilight sighed, turning to look at Rainbow as they walked, her eyes only occasionally glancing ahead at the hoof-worn path. “If I’ve learned one thing about friendship, it’s that it never works if you keep expecting everypony to be perfect all the time. Nopony’s perfect, Rainbow Dash, and nopony should be expected to be something they’re not.”

Rainbow opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again. Twilight had a point—Rainbow remembered the days of her youth, when she had first performed the Sonic Rainboom. Everypony had always expected so much of her, for her to be always the very best and never make mistakes, because if she made a single mistake she had clearly been lying and if she got it all right then it was just what was expected of her.

It was a mentality that had carried through into her adult life, the idea that she would have to always get things perfect and be the very best she could be because otherwise nopony could trust her or believe her. Every experience she had ever had before Twilight had arrived in her life had shown her that being perfect was the only way to be, that if she couldn’t clear the skies in ten seconds flat, if she couldn’t keep her promises and be dependable and loyal, then everything she had ever achieved was worthless, or forgotten.

That was the life of the filly in the spotlight, and around Twilight she didn’t have to be that.

It seemed off, really, that it was on the way up the hill she had spent weeks planning to ask Twilight out on that she truly realised how much Twilight meant to her. In fact, the entire situation seemed so utterly absurd that, before she even knew it, Rainbow Dash was laughing as she walked, her eyes squeezed tight shut and her pace slowed to make up for the spasms that shook through her body.

How stupid did she have to be to only realise this now?

She didn’t care that Twilight was giving her the strangest look, or that she’d practically stopped still in the middle of the hoofpath, of that she looked totally not cool right now. Rainbow Dash just laughed, and it was a while before she could stop.

“Are you going to tell me what’s so funny?” Twilight asked once her raucous laughter had finally died down, her tone unimpressed. Rainbow grimaced, surprised to find herself almost self-conscious; but then, lately she’d been feeling quite self-conscious around Twilight. Rainbow blamed it on the crush.

“I’m an idiot, Twilight,” Rainbow said with a smile, reaching forward and placing a hoof on Twilight’s muzzle when the mare looked like she was about to respond. “Don’t. You have no idea how stupid I’ve been. And trust me, it’s funny.”

“How have you been an idiot, then?” Twilight said as her magic pushed Rainbow’s hoof from her lips, and Rainbow couldn’t quite drag her thoughts away from the sensation of Twilight’s lips on her hoof that lingered still. It was—almost—a kiss.

“It’s nothing important,” Rainbow said, shaking her head, her hoof held just slightly above the ground. She flapped her wings, and gently hovered by Twilight’s side. “Picnic?”

“Picnic.”

The two mares continued on in silence, one walking, one flying, until they reached the top of the hill where Rainbow had laid out a picnic blanket and basket hours before. Twilight was looking at the spread with a mixture of surprise and bemusement, her face twisting and scrunching up just that fraction that showed she was really paying attention. She walked over the the blanket, smiling slowly, and Rainbow Dash found herself just watching Twilight walk, paying almost as much attention to the swaying of her hips as Twilight was to the blanket. She hovered in the air for a moment, letting her eyes wander over the

“Hey, Rainbow?”

The scenery. There were a lot of interesting trees around the clearing, of course, and Rainbow had been looking at them, and that was why she was only turning her head to face them now, as Twilight’s own head turned. The warmth on her cheeks was due to the sun, of course, because she’d just turned her head out of the shadow to face Twilight again.

“Why are we up here?”

Rainbow bit her lip, dropping to the ground and walking slowly over the the blanket, taking a seat on the far side from Twilight. She watched Twilight out of the corner of her eye, her own gaze drifting over the horizon until it settled on the distant mountain-city of Canterlot, barely visible against the shadow of the mountain for now, but Rainbow knew that at night the city would light up like a firefly. She stared at it for a long time before she even considered replying—to her relief, it seemed Twilight was more than happy to just wait for an answer.

What did she say? It wasn’t as if she could just up and ask Twilight out now—the entire idea was to butter her up with the sandwiches, which Rainbow admitted was a plan born mostly out of Pinkie Pie’s love of a good pun than any serious thought. At the very least, Rainbow had wanted to spend some time just chatting with Twilight first…

But then, this entire evening had rather gone a little unlike how she had planned. Rainbow considered for a moment when it had started to go wrong—for a little while she thought it might have been when she had accidentally struck Twilight (and the very memory of that moment almost made her wince, the pain Twilight had felt most likely nothing compared to the pain she felt at hurting her) but eventually Rainbow settled on the moment she had arrived at the library door and found herself unable to knock. That, really, was the point at which the evening had started to change quite drastically from what she had intended, and was there really much of a point in trying to follow tracks long abandoned?

Twilight seemed to get bored of waiting after a little while, turning to the basket and peeking inside. Rainbow chuckled gently to herself, nodding as Twilight looked up with pleading eyes; soon, the entire basket’s contents were laid out carefully over the blanket, around and between them. It wasn’t long before an unspoken agreement passed between the two and they were eating, just enjoying the view of the colours of dusk bathing the sky.

Rainbow wanted to start a conversation—the air felt heavy and empty between them, and something was missing—but she knew that she couldn’t without answering Twilight’s question. To simply ignore it would be rude and mean of her.

“I, uh—” Rainbow paused, clearing her throat and grimacing slightly under Twilight’s watchful gaze. She began again. “I guess I just wanted to spend some time with you. I mean, we spend a lot of time together anyways, but I thought it would be nice to… well, you know. Just you.” Rainbow bit her lip, looking back towards Canterlot. “Without the others,” she added, just in case. She looked at Twilight out of the corner of her eye, and could see the mare smiling nervously.

She almost snorted at that, but held it back. What was Twilight nervous about? She hadn’t spent all week trying to plan a romantic evening for two, then watched it all fall to pieces.

“That’s a lovely thought, Rainbow.” Twilight’s voice was a gentle breeze on a late Summer evening, wafting towards Rainbow with a lazy kind of calmness; it took Rainbow almost a second to realise it was there, but she absolutely welcomed its presence. The silence and the heat had been getting to her more than she had thought.

“Thanks,” Rainbow said. “I mean, I don’t get to spend an awful lot of time with just you, and I think it’s just a shame. I don’t have anypony else I can talk to about reading, y’know?”

“I’m sure Fluttershy would love—”

Rainbow snorted, almost derisively. She shook her head slowly.

“Please, Twilight,” she said. “Don’t ever suggest I talk about books with Rarity and Fluttershy. Have you seen the kinds of things they read? It’s always those boring little novels about the hunky stallion on the beach, or the forbidden romance between the prince and the lowly mare. They don’t understand Daring.”

“You’d be surprised,” Twilight replied. “Fluttershy has read most of the Daring Do books, you know? I think she finds them a little frightening, but she once told me that she likes the opportunity to be scared in a way that makes her feel safe. It’s one of the things I’ve always liked about books, too,” Twilight added, almost as an afterthought, her gaze drifting towards Canterlot on the horizon, now a shining orb of light just above their eye level.

“What do you mean?” Rainbow asked. A part of her brain was telling her that the idea was just stupid (what was the point in seeking out a “safe” kind of scare? Being scared was all about the thrill of the danger) but the rest of her was very quickly telling it to shut up. It was one of those little things Rainbow was only just starting to notice about being around Twilight.

“A long time ago, Pinkie told me that sometimes it’s fun to be scared,” Twilight said thoughtfully, “and I realised that she was completely correct. Being scared is fun and exciting; I’ve read a few papers on how it affects our minds, how it fills our bodies with adrenaline and makes our hearts beat faster. It’s why so many pegasi love doing all the crazy, daredevil stunts that you spend your afternoons practicing.” Twilight shot Rainbow a grin, and she bowed her head in acknowledgement.

“But not all of us love actually being in danger, you know? Before I came to Ponyville, I’d spent almost my whole life in libraries and surrounded by books; I was so tucked away behind my reading that I never really gave the outside world any thought, but I knew that I did not want to really go to any of the frightening places I’d read about. The only reason I dive headfirst into danger these days is to keep you girls all safe.

“I can understand why somepony wouldn’t want to go and put themselves into a real-world, dangerous situation because it’s not something I’ve ever really wanted to do. I mean, I still find it thrilling and exciting, but I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think I had to. Imagine how a pony like Fluttershy would feel? Remember all that time ago, when we went to deal with the dragon?” Rainbow nodded. She didn’t really understand why anypony wouldn’t want to seek out the challenges and thrills in life, but she’d known Fluttershy long enough to know that there were ponies like that.

“I can understand why Fluttershy would like Daring Do, precisely because she was so frightened of that dragon,” Twilight said, and despite being pretty sure that it made no sense Rainbow absolutely understood what Twilight was saying. That, she considered, was not an altogether common experience.

“I think I get it,” Rainbow said, nodding slowly, “though I’m going to be honest, it’s kinda weird.” Twilight laughed at that, loud and clear, and Rainbow just smiled at the sight of her friend, her head thrown backwards and caution thrown to the wind, her face lit up with joy and humour.

She could feel her heart beating in her chest all too quickly, the loud and thunderous thumping that threatened to make her whole body shake and spasm with its force. She didn’t want to glance down at her chest, because she was sure she would be able to see her coat moving in and out with each beat.

“Hey, Twi?” she asked, nervously. No, she shouldn’t be nervous. She had to be cool. Twilight wouldn’t want to go out with somepony who was stammering and awkward.

Twilight hummed in acknowledgement, turning to face Rainbow with a kind of content curiosity on her face. “What is it, Rainbow Dash?”

Rainbow closed her eyes. Closing her eyes seemed to help her do frightening things, today.

“I didn’t just ask you to come up here because I wanted to spend more time with you,” she admitted, almost rushing the words out. She didn’t dare open her eyes. The darkness was much more comfortable than the judging, watchful glare of her friend. “I wanted to ask you something—and, geez, Twi, if you think facing a dragon or standing up to Nightmare Moon is frightening, you should try this some time.” She chuckled, and could almost hear Twilight’s eyebrows raise in confusion; she could certainly see it in her mind’s eye. Her breath was shaking as she waited for Twilight to respond.

“What do you mean?”

It was now or never. Rainbow swallowed and, squeezing her eyes tight shut for just a fraction of a second more to comfort herself, opened her eyes and stared straight into Twilight’s.

“Twilight Sparkle,” she said, slowly and deliberately, “would you like to go out for dinner with me?”

Twilight’s eyes grew wide, but Rainbow Dash refused to look away, standing her ground. She wouldn’t curl up into a ball, or fly fast away from the hilltop, no matter how much she told herself she should. She watched as Twilight’s breaths quickened, her lips quivering in what looked like shock.

“A-as in…”

“A date, yeah,” Rainbow added lamely, her own lips stretching into a nervous grimace, her teeth clamping down on her lower lip gently. “I-it’s fine if you don—”

“Why?” Twilight asked quietly, and Rainbow’s expression switched to confusion. Her fears lingered, but she was too shocked to think on them. This was absolutely not how this was supposed to go. “Why me?”

She licked her lips. She couldn’t just dive headfirst into this answer; Twilight deserved to hear what she truly thought. This was the one time she couldn’t just say what was on her mind, no matter how much she wanted to just smoothly answer ‘because you’re hot’. Now wasn’t the time for pretending to be somepony she wasn’t.

In fact, that was really why she was asking in the first place, wasn’t it?

“Twilight,” she said, shaking her head, “you are one of my best friends, and believe me I wouldn’t want to risk our friendship by dropping this on you if I didn’t really think you were something special. And you are; you’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re brave and strong and willing to do just about anything to protect the ponies you love.

“But if that were all I probably wouldn’t be here right now,” Rainbow said, cutting Twilight off before she could interrupt and dispute her points. “Because frankly I’ve met plenty of ponies who fill those criteria—and, yeah, I’ve dated a fair few of them. With you, though, there’s more. You’re the pony who convinced me that reading wasn’t just for eggheads, and without you I don’t think I’d ever have found Daring Do, and now I can’t even imagine my life without it.

“Without you, I’d never had realised I can just be who I am without worrying about whether everypony thinks I’m cool,” Rainbow said. Twilight’s eyes were wide as saucers now, and Rainbow could see that, though her lips were no longer quivering, her breath was shaky. “Around you, I don’t have to pretend, and that’s something that I haven’t been able to do since I was a filly. Around you, I can stop caring about my image, about my reputation, and just be me.

“Every time I see you, Twi, I get nervous and start thinking. I don’t just blaze in impulsively, just doing whatever seems cool at the time—the last few months, I’ve actually planned stuff, like, days in advance. Every time I look at you I see somepony who doesn’t care if I’m cool or not, who just likes me for who I am.”

Rainbow took a deep breath, and gave Twilight a weak smile. “I think that you’re probably the best thing that ever happened to me, Twilight Sparkle. Meeting you has changed my life, getting to know you and the girls has made me truly appreciate the ponies around me… but you? You are the pony who makes me better. I like being able to be me. It’s like you were saying earlier—I don’t have to be perfect, Twi, and everypony else seems to expect that of me, even me.”

“Rainbow,” Twilight said softly as she trailed off, unable to add anything more to what she had said, “I… you think I’m gorgeous?”

Rainbow almost laughed out loud, the tension was almost too much to bear. “Yeah, egghead, I think you’re gorgeous. I’d say ‘pretty’ or ‘beautiful’ but I don’t want to sound like something out of Rarity’s cheap novels, and I’d say ‘sexy’ but I don’t want to scare you off.”

“B-but… I thought you were…”

“Straight?” Rainbow guessed, raising an eyebrow. Twilight nodded, swallowing in shock, and Rainbow sighed. “Twi, Applejack and I dated a few years back. Basically the entire town knows I’m into mares. Where the hell did you get that impression?”

“I dunno,” Twilight mumbled. “I guess I just didn’t want to let myself think…” Her voice trailed off. Rainbow leaned closer, but couldn’t quite hear what Twilight was saying. She raised a hoof to her ear, and Twilight sighed in resignation. “I didn’t want to let myself fall into the trap of thinking you might like me,” she said, her eyes fixed on the ground.

Rainbow stared.

For the first time that evening, a weight lifted from her shoulders, tentatively. She didn’t want to believe what she had just heard—she wanted to be absolutely sure before she allowed herself to think that her worries, her nerves, might all have been worth something, but she couldn’t unhear the words that had floated quietly into her ears.

“How long?” she whispered, her voice cracking and shuddering. Twilight bit her lips, her eyes closing.

“My first day in Ponyville,” she answered. “I mean, it was just a crush then, but…”

“Then?”

“Well,” Twilight answered with a grimace, “we’ve grown a bit closer since then. I guess I’d have to say it’s been a bit more than a passing crush for a little while now…” Twilight’s voice trailed off, and she chuckled lowly, almost bitterly. “I didn’t want to let myself get hurt, so I just assumed…”

“So, uh…” Rainbow began, nervously. “Is that a yes?”

Twilight looked up, smiling gently to herself. Rainbow was almost surprised how small the distance between them was, now, but found herself even more surprised when Twilight closed that gap and pressed her lips softly against Rainbow’s.

It was the briefest of kisses, little more than a peck, but in that one moment Rainbow felt all her anxieties and all her fears slip away. The world around her, the deep red sunset and the glimmering city of Canterlot in the distance, faded away as Rainbow could focus on nothing but the sensation of Twilight’s lips pressed gently on hers, the warmth of the unicorn’s flesh and the dampness of her breath.

In that moment Rainbow couldn’t think of a better way to be told ‘yes’.

Chapter 13: Hay Burger and Fries

When she heard that Scootaloo was getting adopted, Rainbow’s initial reaction was not one of relief, but one of shock.

It was the kind of shock that came from having your very expectations undermined and met at exactly the same time; it was the kind of shock that barrelled through Rainbow, shaking her to her core and making her truly question all the things she had thought she had known. She’d always hoped that Scootaloo would eventually find a family, ponies to love and care for her as she knew she always would, to take her in and give her a home. She’d seen what it was like in that orphanage, and Rainbow did not want to see Scootaloo spending her whole foalhood there.

Yet, at the same time, Rainbow had to admit she’d started to give up. The folks at the home had told her, time and time again, that Scootaloo was getting too old to be adopted, that the chances were that she never would. Most ponies would much rather adopt one of the younger kids, and the seemingly never-ending supply of those just stopped Scootaloo from ever having a real chance.

So, though she had always been confident that her surrogate sister was more than awesome enough for somepony to want to adopt, and absolutely deserved it, Rainbow was more than a little floored by the news. It was a huge change in Scootaloo’s life, and she knew it would make it unlikely that the two of them would get to spend so much time together anymore.

She shook away that thought. This was good for Scootaloo, so it didn’t matter if it meant she was relegated to a less important role in the filly’s life. Besides, they’d still be sisters, right? Even if Scootaloo had found a new, better family…

She was sitting in the white halls of the hospital, now. The waiting room always freaked her out—everything was too orderly, too quiet, and there wasn’t enough to do. Not even Daring Do and the Griffon’s Goblet could hold her attention—she was twitchy and nervous and her thoughts kept coming back to Scootaloo.

What kind of pony demands that a kid goes through a full health check-up before they make their decision to adopt? Rainbow couldn’t understand it; it was almost as if these ponies were more interested in the adoption itself than they were in Scootaloo. Why should these ponies care about all the minor details of Scootaloo’s health?

Aside, of course, from the fact that they would be her parents. There was just a little voice in Rainbow’s head that kept reminding her that maybe they were just worried, that they wanted to know exactly what they were letting themselves in for, and part of Rainbow Dash wanted to agree that maybe this was the right thing to do. After all, adopting a foal was a huge commitment and it was probably for the best that they were making sure there were aware of any complications before Scootaloo started her new life.

Still, something about the way they worded their demand made Rainbow more than a little suspicious. It didn’t seem so much that they were checking for things they ought to be aware of, so much as checking that Scootaloo was good enough for them.

“Miss Dash?”

Nurse Redheart was standing in the door to the waiting room, a concerned look casting a shadow across her features. Rainbow sprang up from her seat, her book thrown carelessly to one side, and she trotted over to the nurse as fast as she could.

“What is it, nurse?” she asked, frowning as Redheart gave her an almost pitiful look.

“The doctor wants to speak with you,” Redheart replied. “She has a few pressing concerns about Scootaloo.”

Rainbow frowned and opened her mouth to argue, but closed it when she saw the grave look on Redheart’s face. “That bad?”

Redheart simply walked on down the corridor, and Rainbow fell into step behind her. She glanced around at the pristine hallways, nervous. At some point, her stomach rumbled loudly, echoing through the corridors; she grimaced as Redheart turned her head to shoot her a disapproving glance.

Eventually they came upon an office door, and Rainbow was ushered inside and told to take a seat. She did so without much complaining, although she sat fidgeting as she tried to make herself comfortable. No matter how she sat, something felt wrong and she couldn’t quite feel right in her seat.

“Miss Dash?” The voice came from the door—Rainbow turned to see a flustered doctor, her light blue mane falling all around her face in messy curls. Rainbow made to stand, but the doctor motioned for her to stay in her seat as she trotted over to her own and almost collapsed onto it. “I’m Doctor Goodall. You’re Scootaloo’s sister, correct?”

“Not legally, and not biologically,” Rainbow said, and Goodall’s face dropped into even deeper concern. “But I’ve been looking out for her for almost a year and a half now, and I was the one she asked to take her here today.”

Goodall sighed and wiped a hoof across her brow.

“Very well, Miss Dash,” she said. “Scootaloo tells me you’ve been teaching her to fly. Could you tell me a little more about these sessions?”

“Well, we haven’t really been doing much with them—Scoots doesn’t really seem all too comfortable getting up in the air yet, and it really tires her out, so mostly we just glide to get her more used to the air.” Goodall nodded and Rainbow wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t crying. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all, Miss Dash,” Goodall replied. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news—it is, I am afraid, the one part of this profession that most upsets me—but I feel you should be aware of this.” She ran a hoof through her hair, flicking with the other through a pile of papers on her desk. “Scootaloo is suffering from a disease known as Avolatus Avum”—she passed some papers across the desk as she spoke into Rainbow’s strangely trembling hooves—”which, I am afraid to say, means she will never be able to pass the gliding stage of her training with you.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Rainbow asked, her eyes wide. Goodall closed her eyes momentarily.

“Rainbow Dash, Scootaloo cannot fly.”

Suddenly, Rainbow was back in her cloud home, and it was evening. She and Scootaloo were sitting on the sofa, relaxing with a copy of Daring Do and the Sapphire Stone dangling from Rainbow’s hoof, half-read. They were talking about their dreams, their hopes, their ambitions. Scootaloo had wanted to fly with Rainbow—properly, not just gliding. That was it, she’d said. Her cutie mark was important, sure, but having a chance to go flying with Rainbow? That was far more important to her.

And Rainbow had promised it would happen.

A sob broke out of her throat before she could catch it, before she could keep it in check. She had promised, hadn’t she? She’d promised Scootaloo that they would fly together, no matter what it took, and now she could never keep that promise, could never see the huge smile on Scootaloo’s face when she thought of the day they’d finally fly together, could never actually go for that flight.

“No,” Rainbow said, interrupting Goodall’s unheard explanation.

“Miss Dash—”

“I said no.”

Rainbow was standing now, looking down at Goodall with fire in her eyes. The Doctor almost winced in her chair, but otherwise sat firm, staring right back at Rainbow with a blank, indifferent expression.

“I am not letting her down.” Rainbow gritted her teeth, furious, but not quite sure who she was angry at. “I promised her she would fly with me.”

“And I’m sorry, Miss Dash, but that isn’t going to happen.” Goodall’s expression was flat and her tone was final. When Rainbow opened her mouth to reply, Goodall cut her off. “She cannot fly, and there is nothing you or I or anypony can do about it. But other than that, Scootaloo is a perfectly healthy little filly and I expect her life will be an awful lot better if you make sure she doesn’t spend the rest of it chasing after an impossible dream.”

Rainbow couldn’t think of a response. At that moment, Rainbow couldn’t really think of anything—except maybe the pain and fear Scootaloo had in her eyes each time she had worried that she was never going to be able to fly, and how much that look had hurt.

She sat back down.

“What should I do?” she asked, helplessly, resignation filling her whole body as it slouched in the chair. “Flying is all she’s ever wanted.”

“From my experience of fillies her age with similar problems,” Goodall said, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips, “she probably cares an awful lot more about getting to spend time with the ponies she loves. Her examination is all done; she’s waiting for you in the waiting room now.”

Rainbow nodded.

“Do I have to tell her?” she asked. Goodall shook her head.

“After all the tests we’ve had to perform today, Scootaloo is pretty exhausted,” she replied, shuffling some papers on her desk. “Professionally, I cannot advise you on the matter, but personally I would suggest breaking the news to her carefully and slowly, and making sure she knows that you still care about her no matter what.”

Rainbow nodded and rose from her chair, turning to leave the office. As she reached the door, Goodall’s voice caught her ear.

“Oh, and Miss Dash?” Rainbow turned her head a fraction in acknowledgement. “Try to smile, for now. I don’t think she’d want to see you so… gloomy.”

Pushing the door aside with a nudge, Rainbow trotted out into the corridors and followed the blue arrows on the walls to the waiting room. She knew she had a lot to think about, and knew the walk would probably be the best time to do it, but she couldn’t really bring herself to think right now. Not thinking was a habit that died hard, and sometimes Rainbow truly wished that she could just buck it and concentrate when her friends needed her to.

She smiled, though, when she saw Scootaloo, though she was sure she felt her heart break into a thousand little shards at the sight of the filly’s wide, hopeful smile.

“They said I was healthy!” Scootaloo said, flinging herself at Rainbow, her wings buzzing loudly as she tried to get enough height to wrap her legs around Rainbow’s neck. Rainbow tried to drag her eyes away from them.

“I know, squirt,” she said, nuzzling Scootaloo gently. “Doctor Goodall said you’ve been through a lot of tests today, and you were really well-behaved in them…” She let her voice trail off teasingly, making it clear she still had more to say.

Scootaloo pulled herself away from Rainbow so that she could look her in the eyes.

“And…?” she asked, slowly. Rainbow smirked.

“How about dinner at the Hay Burger?” she asked, and watched as Scootaloo’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I think you’ve deserved it.”

“Oh my gosh, Rainbow Dash,” the little filly babbled. “You’re the best big sister ever!”

Rainbow chuckled. If that was all it took to be the best big sister ever, she had absolutely nothing to worry about. She squashed the dark thoughts at the back of her mind, the worries and fears of tomorrow, and dropped one shoulder, indicating that Scootaloo should climb around onto her back—the little filly didn’t need telling twice, bounding around Rainbow’s neck in a heartbeat.

Rainbow trotted carefully through the waiting room, before kicking off from the ground the moment there wasn’t a roof over her head. She soared into the sky, flapping her wings more than she usually would to make sure the two of them stayed in the air. She felt Scootaloo tighten her grip on her neck, and could almost feel the filly’s wide grin.

Soon enough they were at the Hay Burger and Rainbow Dash was standing still as Scootaloo clambered down from her back, stretching her shoulders once the filly was safe on the ground. They walked in, joining the large queue with a shared look of excitement—it had been a long time since either of them had had the chance to just eat junk food, and the irresponsibility of it all made Rainbow feel almost light-headedly childish.

The queue moved agonisingly slowly, and by the time they reached the front even the ever-excitable Scootaloo looked tired and ready to give up (although perhaps that was from all the testing she had been made to do at the hospital that afternoon). The two almost didn’t notice when it was their turn to order, they were so engrossed in the act of waiting.

“Welcome to the Hay Burger, how can I help you?”

The stallion behind the counter was a young, dull-sounding earth pony. He seemed about as interested in his job as Scootaloo had seemed in queueing, but Rainbow placed their order carefully and dutifully handed over her bits when she was asked. As soon as their food was loaded up onto a tray, Rainbow grabbed it in her mouth as Scootaloo looked around the restaurant for a place to sit.

The restaurant had looked pretty full when they entered, but Rainbow Dash was pretty surprised as Scootaloo lead her to a table that seemed occupied—it couldn’t be so full that they would have to ask to share somepony else’s space, could it? Her vision obscured by the bright plastic and sweet-smelling food, she couldn’t quite see more than the mess on the table to tell her it was occupied.

Rainbow Dash was even more surprised when a magenta aura surrounded the tray in her mouth and gently took hold of it, lowering it slowly to the table to show that she was standing right next to Twilight Sparkle.

Rainbow swallowed slowly. She was with Scootaloo—she needed to act cool. Besides, she’d already made all the plans she needed for the weekend; Pinkie had helped her put together a picnic basket and Rarity had given her all the tips she could want (and many, many tips she never wanted in the first place) on how to make the night go smoothly. All she had to do tonight was act calm and rationally.

It was, all things considered, a difficult task when even looking at Twilight made her stomach somersault and her heart beat faster in her chest. Still, she slid carefully into the seat beside Twi, shivering as her foreleg pressed against the unicorn’s for a second.

“Hey Twilight,” she said, watching Scootaloo as she wormed her way into the space opposite them. “Whatcha doing here?”

“Oh, Spike’s out in Canterlot for the week,” Twilight replied, sadly. “It’s been a little lonely in the library, so I’ve been going out to a different place to eat each night this week. What about you two?”

“I just had a big health exam,” Scootaloo said excitedly, and Rainbow forced her smile to stay put. “They said I was really healthy, so now I can get adopted!”

“That’s really good news, Scootaloo!” Twilight said, smiling broadly at the little filly. Scootaloo giggled a little and nodded, euphoric. “I’m so pleased for you.”

“Yeah, squirt,” Rainbow added, immediately regretting saying anything. She wasn’t sure she could lie like this. But when Scootaloo beamed at her, her face glowing with happiness and pride, Rainbow couldn’t help but smile back at her, and for some reason it didn’t quite feel forced.

“Mrs Dove says it will probably take a month or so for them to deal with the paperwork,” Scootaloo added, her smile only shrinking by the tiniest fraction, “but that I would be able to move in with them as soon as possible after that! And she said their house is really big, and I’d have all the space I needed to practice my flying, and that I could even invite Rainbow round for dinner!” The filly glanced towards Rainbow, who hastily pasted her smile back on. “I-if you want to, that is?”

“Of course!” Rainbow said, nodding. “Dinner with your new parents sounds great. What kind of big sister would I be if I didn’t ever come and have dinner with you guys?”

“Wow, Rainbow Dash,” Twilight said, her tone light and not quite mocking, and when Rainbow looked to her right she could see an almost proud smile on the unicorn’s face that made her stomach flip. “You’re really taking your position as Scootaloo’s sister seriously.”

“Of course,” Rainbow said, her voice falling slightly flat from her usual, bragging, confident tone. “I’m the Element of Loyalty, I’d never leave Scoots hanging.”

“Technically you only represent Loyalty…” Twilight began, her tone teasing, and she laughed freely when Rainbow swatted a hoof at her indignantly. Even Scootaloo giggled.

“I know that,” Rainbow said. Of course she’d known that. “But that sounds lame, and if there’s one thing I’m not…”

“We know, Rainbow,” Twilight said, shaking her head with mirth. She shot a wink at Scootaloo, who was almost lost in her giggles across the table. Rainbow tried to hide her smile and slowly rolled her eyes.

“Whatever,” she said, relaxing and lifting a fry to her mouth. “I’m the best big sister ever, isn’t that right squirt?” Scootaloo sighed and shook her head, still laughing, and Twilight raised a questioning eyebrow at her; Rainbow stuck her tongue out a little in response.

“So, Scootaloo,” Twilight began, turning to the filly, “are you looking forward to getting to move in with Mrs Dove and her husband? From what I’ve heard, ‘a really big house’ is a bit of an understatement.”

“Really?” Scootaloo asked, her eyes wide. It didn’t surprise Rainbow one bit that Twilight seemed to know these ponies she’d never heard of—Twilight had become the go-to pony in Ponyville for friendship problems thanks to her studies under Princess Celestia. Rainbow thought back to the day Twilight had first arrived in Ponyville, when the six of them had gone out to take on Nightmare Moon, and how she had been so clueless about friendship. She had really come such a long way in all that time, and maybe that was why Rainbow was only realising how attractive she was now.

She shivered as Twilight brushed up against her side, squirming in her seat next to her as she described what she knew of the house Scootaloo was moving into, and the ponies who had decided to take her into their lives. She glanced nervously at Scootaloo, but was pleased to see that her sister was so enraptured by Twilight’s description that she hadn’t seen anything.

As Twilight spoke, Rainbow found herself picking up on something in her tone. She sounded uncertain, and from her expression Rainbow guessed that she might have been withholding something she knew about these ponies: her face took on a guilty uncertainty whenever she mentioned how kind and generous the two ponies were. Rainbow tried to hide her frown, and smiled and nodded along with Twilight’s little talk—she’d have to ask the mare some other time what she really knew about these two.

Not even Twilight could keep talking for very long about two ponies she barely knew, and it soon became clear that Twilight was struggling to think of more things to say. Scootaloo’s look of hopeful excitement started to droop a little into one of boredom, and Rainbow suppressed a chuckle at Twilight’s scrunched-up, thoughtful expression.

“They sound pretty awesome to me.” Twilight let out an almost imperceptible sigh and shot Rainbow a grateful smile—Rainbow smirked back, her eyes twinkling. “What do you think, Scoots?”

“It sounds pretty cool, I guess,” Scootaloo said, but her furrowed brow said otherwise. Rainbow tilted her head to one side, frowning. Scootaloo caught her gaze and shrugged, looking down at the table before her. She picked up a single fry and chewed on it slowly, anxiously. Rainbow swallowed, waiting.

Soon enough, Scootaloo leaned her head even further downward. “They just sound an awful lot like Diamond Tiara’s family, that’s all,” she muttered, and Rainbow began to wonder what was going on in Scootaloo’s mind.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Rainbow asked politely, as Twilight looked between the two in confusion, obviously unaware of the school’s bullies—not that Rainbow blamed her, seeing as she had no personal connection to the problem at all. “I mean, bullies like her tend not to pick on the families of rich kids…”

“Precisely,” Scootaloo said, looking up at Rainbow with pleading eyes. “She’ll try to be all fake and friendly with me, whilst still being a bully to my friends, and that isn’t fair!” She almost shouted the last few words, distraught as she was, but managed to keep her voice down for the restaurant. Rainbow rose immediately, quickly moving herself to sit beside the filly, who was now breathing rapid, short breaths and shaking in her seat. She wrapped her wings around her, pulling Scootaloo close to her side.

“Are you worried your friends will hate you for it?” Rainbow asked, quietly, trying to make sure Twilight couldn’t hear what she had to say. This was between her and Scootaloo, and she needed the filly to understand that she was safe. “Because Diamond Tiara will be leaving you alone, or even being nice to you?”

Scootaloo nodded, once, after a moment of silence. Rainbow leaned her head down and rubbed her cheek softly against Scootaloo’s, the nuzzle clearly calming the filly down—her breaths became longer and deeper, her eyes closing slowly as a bitter smile tugged at her lips.

“Don’t be frightened of that,” she said, firmly. “For a start, you have some of the best friends anypony could ask for, and they wouldn’t grow to hate you over something so silly and little as getting treated differently by the school bully. But on top of that, you can always tell Diamond Tiara to shove off—there’s only so many times she can pretend to be nice to you if you keep doing that.”

She was joking, but only just a little—Scootaloo was giggling softly in her embrace, her laughter rocking Rainbow and bringing a warm smile to her lips. She looked up for a moment and caught Twilight’s gaze, looking on at her with a proud smile and what looked like a tear in her eye, and Rainbow Dash knew that this was what she wanted.

Chapter 14: Buttered Toast

It might not have been every day that Pinkie Pie found an excuse to invite the whole of Ponyville to a party, but everypony agreed that it was certainly at least twice a week. On a good week she could even get four parties going, and Pinkie would quite happily talk away for hours about that one time she had made one party last almost five days. It was, she proclaimed, a world record, though not uncontested (much to her dismay).

Despite their regularity, Pinkie somehow managed to keep the parties fresh. After all, what use was a party if it became predictable, or even boring? No, a party existed for the sole purpose of enjoyment and excitement, and Pinkie Pie always seemed to find just the right way to keep those two things alive late into the night.

Tonight’s was a loud party, and unsurprisingly a number of ponies were missing.

Fluttershy had left the moment the volume began to climb, the music pressing in on her and making her feel uncomfortably small. She’d whispered her apologies too quietly to hear above the music, but nopony minded; Pinkie had always been careful to make sure Fluttershy never felt overwhelmed by her parties, and had even given the timid pegasus a few minutes of cheerful conversation outside before she insisted that she really had to get back home, if that was alright with Pinkie, anyway.

Cheerilee, too, had excused herself before leaving after a few songs, for she had classes to plan and grading she really couldn’t leave any longer, as much as she wanted to. Applejack had said something about apple bucking season, but Pinkie had convinced her that maybe another hour wouldn’t do any harm. At first it looked as if Ditzy hadn’t made it, but it wasn’t long before Rainbow Dash spotted her sitting quietly in one corner of the room, her eyes closed and her head leaning against the wall, oblivious to the crushing noise around her.

Rainbow wasn’t looking for Ditzy, though.

She took another swig of punch as her eyes swept through the crowds. The ponies around her were dancing, bodies writhing around her in a sea of motion, but Rainbow had long dropped the act of joining in. She had been almost overcome by her curiosity, and she needed to know the answer.

Where was Twilight?

She hadn’t seen the librarian in a few days now, and Rainbow was starting to get more than just a little worried. Twilight might have been a little bit of a recluse, and she certainly might have had a habit of locking herself away for days at a time to research, but Rainbow hadn’t seen the tell-tale signs of the library lights shining brightly into the dark into the early hours of the morning, or the early-morning trip Twilight always took whilst on a studying spree to buy more coffee. Rainbow was starting to get just a little bit worried.

No, not worried. She didn’t get worried. She was just curious, and wanted to look out for her dear friend. That was all.

Even when studying, Twilight wouldn’t miss out on two parties in a row, would she?

“Heya Dashie!”

Rainbow blinked twice, her vision now mostly full of Pinkie Pie who had inexplicably appeared in front of her, barely a foot away. Rainbow took a moment to adjust herself before cracking a wide smile.

“Hey Pinkie,” she said, clearing her throat and taking another swig of punch. “Awesome party, as usual.”

“Thanks.” Pinkie seemed truly pleased at the compliment, even though it had been given a thousand times before by a hundred different ponies. “But my ear was a-flopping and that means somepony wasn’t enjoying a party, so I was looking around at the dance floor to try and find out who it was and I saw you looking around all confused and frowny. Is something wrong?”

Rainbow chuckled.

“No, Pinkie,” she said. “Nothing’s wrong. I was just looking for somepony and couldn’t see her, that’s all.”

It was supposed to be reassuring, but Pinkie Pie gasped, her eyes widening in shock.

“Somepony hasn’t come to the party?” She looked around, her expression hardening into a glare as she tried to work out who it had been. “But I invited everypony! Nopony said they weren’t coming, well, except Cranky Doodle, but he and Matilda never come to my parties even though I always make sure to send them a small, quiet invitation just to let them know they’re welcome, and I don’t think you’d be looking for either of them anyway—”

“Twilight, Pinkie,” Rainbow explained, cutting the earth pony off as she thought aloud as fast as her mouth could speak. “Twilight Sparkle isn’t here.”

“Oh,” Pinkie said, her glare gone and replaced with a simple smile. “That’s okay, then. She’d have quite some difficulty getting to a party in Ponyville all the way from Canterlot.”

Rainbow frowned. She blinked and took a breath, the music around her forgotten as she tried to process what had just been said.

“Why’s Twi in Canterlot?” Rainbow asked, slowly. She wasn’t sure why, but a little part of her was disappointed to hear the solution to her worries.

“That’s easy, silly. She’s been doing some researchy, magic stuff for Princess Celestia with some really famous scientists,” Pinkie said, flashing Rainbow a grin and bouncing off into the crowd, humming to herself. As the space around her emptied, Rainbow felt the crushing weight of the music press in on her again, and she felt warm and safe, if a little disappointed.

Of course Twilight was in Canterlot. She’d said so, hadn’t she? About a week ago, she’d said something to the five of them over dinner at Rarity’s, something about a research team and a forgotten spell. Did she really mean she’d be gone so soon? Rainbow had thought it would be in a month or so, not at once.

Pushing the thoughts of Twilight from her mind, Rainbow let her body start to sway from side to side with the pulsing, heavy rhythm of the bass. Her sways became wider and more confident rapidly, and soon Rainbow found herself a part of the writhing masses, her thoughts one with the music, her heartbeat one with the thudding of the speakers and the throbbing of the heavy air around her.

It wasn’t until she bumped into somepony just a little too violently that Rainbow snapped out of the dance. She turned to face the pony she had knocked to the ground, offering Applejack a hoof and a hundred apologies as she recognised her.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout it, Rainbow,” Applejack said, taking hold of Rainbow’s hoof and pulling herself up from the ground. Rainbow could see her swaying lightly from side to side once she was upright, and something about her dazed smile made Rainbow question how much the farmer had had to drink that night.

“Are you okay, though?” Rainbow asked. It took her a moment or two to reply.

“I’m fine, Rainbow,” she said, and Rainbow could hear the slurring in her voice now. She reached a hoof out and put it around Applejack’s shoulders.

“Come on,” she said, easing Applejack forwards with a gentle pressure on her neck, “let’s get you outside. You look like you could do with some fresh air.”

“I certainly wouldn’ say no t’that.”

It was a struggle to get the inebriated mare out of the party; with a sea of ponies to navigate through and Applejack’s unsteady footing it took all of her concnetration just to avoid Applejack falling into the ponies around her. Soon enough, though, they made it outside, with Applejack quietly chuckling by Rainbow’s side. Despite herself, Rainbow found that she was breathing heavily, and rolled her eyes at the earth pony’s laughter.

“Thanks, sugarcube,” Applejack said after her laughter had died down. Rainbow snorted in derision and pushed at the ground with her hoof. “I mean it. I guess I should’ve left a few hours ago, but I was jus’ enjoyin’ myself so much I couldn’t.”

“You mean you’re too drunk to voluntarily leave, right?” Now it was Rainbow’s turn to laugh at the disgruntled look on her friend’s face, cackling openly at the scrunched-up expression of scorn.

“I ain’t that drunk,” Applejack protested. “I’m jus’ findin’ it difficult to walk straight, y’know?” Rainbow forced her laughter to subside; she didn’t want to offend Applejack, especially not while the farmer was in this kind of state. Besides, it wasn’t as if Rainbow hadn’t been drinking herself: on top of the punch at the party, Rainbow had spent the hours before the party with (of all ponies) Rarity, who had kindly offered her a glass or two of red wine. Rainbow might have been awesome, but the occasional sophistication was not beyond her.

She didn’t have wine all that often—Rainbow had always been much more interested in the harder drinks, and wine came with all those ponie who would blabber on about ‘vintage’ and ‘bouqet’ and all sorts of things she’d never understood—and it had gotten Rainbow thinking about the few times she had. Most recently, Twilight had shared a bottle with her one night as the two stayed up late to read the latest Daring Do book. She remembered how Twilight had suggested an air of class and sophistication for their bookish night in and Rainbow had laughed at the smirk on the unicorn’s lips.

She’d thought a lot about those lips, lately. That same night, for instance, Rainbow had watched as the deep red liquid flowed from Twilight’s glass into her mouth, almost morbidly fascinated. She kept on shooting glances at them from time to time throughout the evening, watching them closely each time Twilight spoke, and watching how they moved silently as Twilight’s eyes scanned the pages before her, mouthing out the words she had read.

“Applejack?” The farmer looked up, smiling curiously. “When did Twilight say she’d be back from Canterlot?”

“This weekend,” Applejack replied at once. “She didn’t say exactly when, mind you, but sometime soon. Don’t you worry yourself about her; you’ll see her soon enough.”

“I’m not worried.” Rainbow frowned. She wasn’t worried.

“Of course not, sugarcube,” Applejack replied. “But between you and me, I think you should just go ahead and ask her soon as she gets back. Worst she can do is say no.”

Rainbow frowned. Ask Twilight what, exactly? It took a moment for Applejack to notice the frown on Rainbow’s face, and her eyebrows raised slowly in questioning.

“Come on, Rainbow, if y’ain’t goin t’be honest with me, y’all could at least be honest with yourself. I’ve seen th’way you’ve been lookin’ at Twi lately, and I for one think you’ve got a—”

“What‽” Rainbow’s jaw had almost dropped with shock. She had not been looking at Twilight like that! Sure, maybe she’d been a little preoccupied staring at the mare’s lips that one night in the library, but she’d been tired. It was hardly her fault that Twilight was attractive

Twilight wasn’t attractive. Twilight was her friend: her awesome friend who showed her Daring Do and who could beat an Ursa Minor and even though she was uncool at times was still talented, smart, sexy, awesome and fun. Rainbow couldn’t be attracted to her.

“Rainbow, have you been on a single date since we broke up?”

“Have you?” Rainbow asked defensively. Applejack rolled her eyes, sighing. She took a few wobbling steps towards Rainbow Dash, before closing her eyes and steadying herself.

“That ain’t the point,” Applejack replied, taking a deep breath. Her voice sounded calm and controlled, almost forced. “There ain’t anypony who’s caught my eye. Twi, on the other hoof, has definitely caught yours.”

“I am not attracted to that egghead!” She couldn’t be. Twilight was her friend, and that was that.

“Why were you looking for her then, silly?”

Pinkie Pie was standing in the doorframe of Sugarcube Corner, a frown on her face as she tried to assess the situation before her. Applejack smirked in victory as Rainbow frowned, looking to the floor and pawing at the ground as she tried to think.

“I just wanted to know where she was.” She didn’t want to see Twilight any more than everypony else, obviously. She hadn’t been so busy trying to search for the mare because she just wanted to set eyes upon her again, because she wanted to let her eyes just focus on those mesmerising lips as Twilight’s explanation of her work and studies sailed right over her head. “That’s all,” she added, the silence of the two mares staring at her with disbelieving looks overwhelming.

“She’s in Canterlot,” Applejack replied dryly. “Twilight told you so herself, less than a week ago. Or were you to busy starin’ at her flank to listen to wh—”

“No!” Rainbow almost yelled. It was an uncomfortably warm night, and Rainbow found the cool breeze on her cheeks as she shook her head comforting against her warm coat, though it didn’t seem to cool her in the long term.

“Oh, Dashie.” Pinkie sighed, shaking her head as her voice dripped with disappointment. “We all saw you at Fluttershy’s the other week. Besides, it’s not like you have to hide anything from us.”

Rainbow spluttered, disbelieving.

“I’m not hiding anything!” she managed to say eventually. “I’m telling you guys the truth. Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in m—”

A pink hoof on her muzzle silenced her mid-promise, and she looked up at Pinkie inquisitively.

“I’m not going to let you make that promise,” Pinkie said quietly. “Just because you think that you’re not lying doesn’t mean you’re not lying to yourself, too, and then you’d be breaking a Pinkie Promise. I’m not going to let you make a promise you’ll break immediately.

“Now, do you promise not to finish that promise?” Rainbow stared into Pinkie’s eyes, her own eyes wide as she nodded carefully. “Pinkie promise?”

“Uh, sugarcube?” Applejack sounded uncertain, even a little confused, as Rainbow silently mimed the motions of the promise with her hoof. “You know that don’t make one lick of sense, right?”

“Sure it does!” Pinkie said, grinning as she lifted her hoof from Rainbow’s muzzle. Rainbow took a deep breath, exaggerating for effect. “She just had to promise not to make that specific promise so that she wouldn’t break the promise that she promised not to make.”

Applejack and Rainbow Dash shared a look of mutual despair. Even after years of knowing Pinkie, they couldn’t quite convince themselves not to try to understand anything the pink mare said.

“Look, whatever,” Rainbow said, huffing out a breath which condensed as a cloud before her face. “I’m going to head home. I think I’ve had a bit too much to drink, anyway.” She spread her wings, pushing herself up into the air. Hovering above the ground for a moment, she turned to face the mares below her. “I’ll see you girls around, okay?”

“Sure thing, sugarcube.”

And soon enough Rainbow was soaring through the sky, her head clear as she relaxed into the sensation of the wind rushing past her, cold and biting against her coat; it was unseasonably cold. She dodged around some low-drifting clouds, occasionally letting her wing clip the side of one and feeling the refreshing sensation of water vapour spraying out across her back, condensing as it fell, her own personal rainfall.

It wasn’t quite dark out in the streets of Ponyville: some ponies had stayed at home, or gone home early from the party as she had, and the light from their windows leaked out into the streets, giving the cobblestones below her a scale-like effect in the shadows.

As she was nearing the edge of town she watched as the lights faded away, becoming less and less frequent as she got further and further away from the party. At last, she flew over the Library, passing into the space beyond Ponyville and towards her own cloud home, smiling as she watched the last lights of Ponyville flicker around the base of the tree, a golden glow to mark the end of the town.

It wasn’t far from there to her cloud house but Rainbow didn’t feel like she wanted to be home just yet, so she slowed down, feeling the chill of the wind lessen as she did so, the biting numbness slowly fading from the edges of her coat. Soon enough she felt warm (or, at the very least, not cold) and and she sighed in contentment as she flew gently onwards. A breeze blew up at her from below, a warm updraft and for a moment Rainbow wished she could freeze time and just stay in that one place, hovering above the ground, suspended magically in the warm air, but she knew that it wouldn’t last long on such an uncharacteristically cold night. Instead, she braced herself for leaving the warmth, but still shivered a little as the cold air hit her.

It wasn’t until she reached her own home that she realised what she had seen. She stood on her porch, looking back at Ponyville: below her and in the distance, the lights had all seemed to merge into one, a mass of amber on the horizon silhouetted by houses and buildings she knew all too well—and, closest to her, the silhouette of the Library, tall and proud at the edge of town, its wide branches indistinguishable from each other beneath the mass of dark, shadowed leaves.

Right in the middle of the tree was a spot of light, round and amber and calling her. She wanted to take off at once and fly to it, welcome Twilight home from her trip and catch up with her friend, but something kept Rainbow still. She wanted to speak with Twilight about anything and everything, to find out how her trip had gone and to tell her all about the mundane life in Ponyville she had missed for a week, but something stopped her from leaving. She wanted to sit down in the library’s kitchen and eat, just relaxing for an evening with Twilight and enjoying the mare’s company, the warm silence of another pony nearby, but something didn’t let her go.

Perhaps it was the ideas that Pinkie Pie and Applejack had planted in her mind not too many minutes ago, those false accusations that simply couldn’t be true. She wanted to say it was because she was worried about how flying straight to Twilight as soon as she got back would reflect upon her reputation, especially if everypony seemed to think she was head over hooves in love with the egghead

Attracted. They’d said she was attracted to Twilight (which she wasn’t). And so it would be terrible for her reputation if she were to speed straight over there and ask the unicorn out

Rainbow’s stomach rumbled, the blessed sensation freeing her from the tyranny of thought. She smiled as she trotted her way carefully inside, shooting one last glance at the distant tree as if considering the flight. It was time for toast.

As her hoof rested on the toaster’s handle, clicked into place, the background hum of the old toaster warming up peaceful, Rainbow realised that making toast involved standing around for a few minutes, free of any obligations to do anything, and on a night when she simply wanted to stop thinking that probably wasn’t a good plan. In spite of her excuses, Rainbow made her way slowly to the cupboards on the other side of the kitchen, pouring herself a mug of well-earned hard cider, and draining the cup with a deep moan.

The crack of the toaster ending came three mugs later, and Rainbow wasn’t entirely sure the route she had taken to reach the toaster was perfectly straight.

She picked up the warm, crispy snack in her mouth, trying to keep herself from taking a bite as she walked into the living room and flopped down on the sofa, reclining and stretching out her body completely. She grasped the toast in her hooves and slowly began to munch on it, consuming it quickly and effectively as the warm, grainy taste filled her mouth. It wasn’t much of a dinner, but it would keep hunger at bay until the morning.

Rainbow closed her eyes, meaning to drift off to sleep, but something was keeping her awake; in the back of her mind, thoughts were still turning that she had been sure she had quashed, thoughts she didn’t think could ever possibly be right. Despite herself, despite her exhaustion, despite her reputation, Rainbow Dash wanted to see Twilight Sparkle.

It wasn’t the kind of want that could be put off until the morning, either. It was the same kind of craving that Rainbow had when the last Daring Do book had come out, the unhealthy desire to sit down and tear through the pages whenever she had the chance, the feeling of unease when she wasn’t reading that lingered with her at work all day until she had come home and curled up in her bed, candle by her bedside and book in her hooves, warm and safe and comfortable. Part of her wanted that comfort, the warmth of Twilight’s hooves and the safety of

This was wrong. This was so very, very wrong and Rainbow had no idea why it was happening. She was Rainbow Dash, the most awesome flyer in Equestria; she was bold and daring and loyal, not sappy. She certainly wasn’t the kind of mare who just wanted the warmth of another pony’s embrace at night; she was far too cool for anything like that.

Except… she hadn’t always been, had she? Years before, before Twilight Sparkle had ever entered her life, she’d been interested in the company of others as more than just friends. Perhaps she’d never had anything that had lasted, but that certainly didn’t mean she had never had those relationships in the first place; it certainly didn’t mean that she hadn’t felt those kinds of things before. She remembered how, long ago, she had wanted nothing more than Applejack’s legs around her, the mare’s warmth pressed against her at night and their manes all tangled and confused on the bedsheets above them. The memory was distant, and a little bittersweet, but Rainbow knew those feelings had gone.

And she wasn’t entirely sure her desire to have Twilight hold her was any different. Or, at least, would have been if she wanted anything like that—she didn’t, of course. Clearly she was just thinking about what it would be like if she did want those things, because she didn’t. She wasn’t attracted to Twilight.

That was why she was already on her porch, wings spread, ready to fly. It made perfect sense—she knew she wasn’t attracted to Twilight, so of course it couldn’t hurt her reputation to go and see her friend. Besides, Twilight had just got in from a long journey and a challenging week of magical research, and would undoubtedly want a friend to welcome her back. She was doing Twilight a favour.

She would fly down to the library. She’d land just outside the door with a skid, twisting her body so she faced it so she could knock. Twilight would open the door, surprise on her face as she asked why Rainbow wasn’t at the party, and she would reply that she would much rather be here with Twilight than at some boring old party. The unicorn would laugh and smile and blush at that, and open the door wide so she could come in.

Rainbow would sit for a while by the fire and just listen to Twilight talk about her research. It would be fascinating—not the research, of course, because Rainbow wouldn’t understand a word her friend was saying, but the expression of pure joy at a successful experiment, or of frustration at an inexplicable reading, or even just the afterglow of getting to work on a professional research team would be mesmerising. The tone of Twilight’s voice would tell Rainbow far more than the words she was saying ever could.

After a while, Twilight would come and sit beside her at the fireplace, and they would just relax. It had been a long day for both of them, after all, and they were both undeniably very tired. It would be a sleepy kind of relaxing, the kind that just let them be who they were without stopping to worry about all the little details or keeping up the pretenses of a reputation.

Twilight would ask her again why she’d come over, and she’d reply again with the same answer she’d given at first, only this time, with their bodies so close together, she wouldn’t quite be able to hide the blush on her cheeks or the gleam in her eye. Twilight would look surprised as she realised what thoughts were going through Rainbow’s mind, the rapidly changing expressions on her face as she thought at a million miles an hour breathtaking. And then she saw it, right there, in the corner of Twilight’s eye—the acknowledgement.

In that moment, they knew what they both wanted, but were frozen by indecision. Twilight was overthinking it, of course, the twitches in her eyes telling Rainbow all she needed to know—she leaned forwards, slowly, closing the gaps between their muzzles, and pressed her lips to Twi

Rainbow Dash felt her wings drop to her sides as she watched the small dot of amber in the middle of the library’s silhouette blink itself out of existence, and the sudden impact brought her out of her musings. She shook her head, violently, trying to clear her head of the thoughts Applejack and Pinkie had made her think. She wasn’t attracted to Twilight.

Unable to shake the thoughts of Twilight’s lips pressing against hers from her mind, Rainbow slowly trudged upstairs to her bedroom and all but threw herself onto her bed. Despite how tired she was, despite how comfortably she sank into the cloud mattress beneath her, Rainbow couldn’t quite rid herself of the nervous tension that filled her body. She tossed and turned, but no matter how she lay she couldn’t fall asleep. She almost laughed at the very idea of Ponyville’s premier napper being unable to sleep, but she was too tired to bother. She rolled over onto her side again, and almost on instinct curved a foreleg under her pillow.

It wasn’t until she’d pulled her pillow down beside her and wrapped her legs around it, holding it close to her, that Rainbow Dash finally fell asleep, a soft smile toying at the edges of her lips and Twilight Sparkle’s name just barely whispered on her breath.

Chapter 1: Vegetable Chow Mein

The sky was a beautiful place. Everypony had always thought that she had never really had an eye for beauty (especially Rarity, who seemed to think that beauty was defined by whatever was in fashion and whether or not the shades of vermillion were just right), that she was too focused on physicality to appreciate the wonders of the world around her, but Rainbow Dash knew better. Perhaps her understanding of beauty was a little different, and perhaps she would never quite have let herself be seen dead trying to find something truly beautiful a year ago, but that didn’t mean she never appreciated it. A well-executed, perfectly choreographed flight show by any professional aerobatics team was beautiful; the view from the top of the Crystal Palace was beautiful; and the sky was beautiful.

The thing about the sky, Rainbow thought, was that it was a huge, empty space of possibilities. Sure, it was beautiful to look at—in the day, with its bright blue backdrop and swirling clouds, or at night when Luna positioned each and every star with the precision of a master painter—but the real beauty lay in what could be done with it. Rainbow Dash didn’t just see an empty sky, or a cloud, but rather invisible loops and tracks in the sky, tricks waiting to be flown.

Sometimes she would let herself get lost in the beauty of it all. She would close her eyes (and whoever said that beauty was a product of vision had clearly never flown) and feel the air flowing across her feathers, blowing against her face, playing with her mane and tail. She would hold her wings in place, gliding on the currents and feeling the sun on her coat, so lost in the sensation of flying that she could not bring herself to perform a trick. It was almost as if there was something special about those moments, something that would be lost if she tried to show off.

Inevitably those moments would be interrupted, whether by somepony else or Rainbow herself, as she realised that she had somewhere to be, or practice that she really should be doing. And while there was a beauty in the practice, in the trails that had yet to be and the tricks as yet unperformed that she saw clear as day before her, she had never quite had that sensation of truly being a part of the sky when she performed.

Sighing, Rainbow tilted herself downwards, flapping to slow herself, as she saw her destination ahead. She had lost count of the number of times she had crashed into that library in the past and was unwilling to have to start counting again. After all, if she had gone three months without barrelling in through a window she could manage another day.

Landing near the front door, Rainbow took a moment to run a hoof through her mane and lick her dry lips before knocking.

“Come in!” Spike’s familiar, rasping voice was certainly not unwelcome (Rainbow Dash quite enjoyed spending time with the young drake whom she had found to be quite pleasant company, not that she would ever admit it) yet somehow hearing it made her heart sink just a little inside her chest. Immediately guilty, Rainbow forced a smile and pushed open the door.

“Hey Spike,” she greeted cheerfully, trying not to look confused as she looked around the library for any sign of Spike’s presence. It would have been really embarrassing if Spike hadn’t actually been there—and there she went again, hoping Spike wouldn’t be around. There was no reason she shouldn’t find Spike in his home and she certainly had no right to make him leave.

She shook her head violently. Now was not the time for thoughts like that.

Spike walked down the stairs as fast as his little legs could carry him. Dressed impeccably in a dark suit (those weird ones Rainbow had never thought looked nice, with the shiny lapels and the large, open chest) and with a bow tie around his neck, Spike looked different tonight. Other times he’d dressed up, his height and youth tended to make the overall effect cute, but tonight something—was it the confident way he carried himself? or the suit itself, which this time had clearly been designed just for him rather than a scaled-down version of typical stallionswear?—gave him an air of class.

“Hey Rainbow,” Spike said, his huge grin not quite detracting from his new-found dignity. “What d’ya think?” He gave a little pirouette on the staircase. Rainbow suppressed a giggle, smiling at his antics.

“It looks great, Spike,” she replied. “Did Rarity make it?”

“Yeah,” Spike said, his eyes glossing over as he sighed. His voice slowed down, relaxing with his body. “She’s taking me to a restaurant in Canterlot, to say thanks for all the help I’ve been giving her.”

Rainbow watched Spike carefully, noting how almost disbelieving he seemed. Something wasn’t right—half a year ago, if Twilight had asked her out to dinner, she would have been bouncing off the walls with enthusiasm (in private, at least), she was certain Spike would be the same with Rarity. Not, of course, that Rarity saw this evening in even a remotely romantic fashion, but that didn’t mean Spike shouldn’t be more excited about it all. Unless...

“You do know it’s not a date, right?” Rainbow winced at the momentary pain that shot through Spike’s expression. “Sorry,” she added, quietly, “I just don’t want to see my friend beat himself up because he got carried away with a daydream…”

“I know,” Spike replied with a cautious smile. “But, even if I know this isn’t a date, that doesn’t mean I can’t let myself pretend, just for a while?”

Rainbow’s instinct was telling her that, really, pretending he was on a date was liable to do Spike more harm than it did good, but the young drake had looked so happy before and seemed quite content to know that he wasn’t actually going on a date with Rarity that Rainbow couldn’t quite bring herself to tell him no. Besides, maybe getting this chance to pretend to be on a date with Rarity might put him off—Rainbow could only begin to imagine how unbearably overwhelming a date with Rarity would be, if how she behaved at dinners with the six of them was any indication.

“You ready, Spike?” Smiling involuntarily, Rainbow turned to face where Twilight’s voice had come from. Twilight stood in the doorway to the kitchen, her head just poked around the corner into the library proper and, if the glowing aura of magic around her horn was anything to go by, probably mostly preoccupied with what was going on in the other room. “Your train leaves in half an hour, and you need to pick Rarity up on the way to the station.”

“I know, I know,” Spike grumbled and Rainbow found herself repressing another giggle at his tired expression. “I was just about ready to leave.”

“Good,” Twilight said, popping her head back into the kitchen, the door falling shut behind her. A moment later, just as the door settled in place, she nudged her head back through. “Hi Rainbow,” she said, turning to face the pegasus for the first time. Rainbow grinned back at her.

“Hey yourself,” she replied. Spike groaned loudly and rolled his eyes, before walking straight out the door without so much as a goodbye. The two mares turned and stared at the exit for a moment, watching the two halves of the door slam shut just a fraction of a second out of sync, before they both let loose the giggles they had been holding in.

“He can be so over-dramatic,” Twilight said between breaths. Dash nodded in agreement, snorting.

“I wonder where he gets it from?” she mused sarcastically. Twilight dropped her jaw in faked surprise and hurt, before her eyes went wide and she popped her head straight back into the kitchen. A little confused, Rainbow walked over and pushed the door open.

Twilight was cooking, which couldn’t be a good thing.

Pots and pans of boiling water were crowding the many surfaces. Held in a glowing, raspberry aura was a knife which was finely chopping some carrots, moving slightly too fast for Rainbow’s liking. Ingredients flew from place to place and pot to pot. It might have looked impressive had Twilight not been standing in the middle of it all, her eyes closed tight and her mouth moving slightly as she muttered silently to herself in a concentrated near-panic.

Rainbow stayed put in the doorway for a moment, half-staring at the chaotic beauty around her (because there was no doubt that the manic action was beautifully complex, even if it probably didn’t quite count as cooking by this point) and half-focused on Twilight herself. It wasn’t very often Rainbow just got to stare at Twilight—more often than not, the unicorn would notice and somehow distract her, so she often resorted to little more than sly, stolen glances—and now she got the chance she was more than just a little distracted.

It was only when she felt the need to walk through the artillery-fire of vegetables and hold Twilight close that she shook her head. Twilight was concentrating and busy and would probably not be too pleased with her if she just walked over and started nuzzling.

Slipping quietly out of the kitchen, Rainbow Dash sat herself down by the adventure section and pulled out a copy of Sapphire Stone. Flicking absent-mindedly through the book, she focused herself and her thoughts on the pages beneath her hooves, the feel of each sheet as it curved under the lightest pressure and waved, flowed from one side of the book to the other. The gentle, rustling sound that accompanied it was calming; the smell of the library that each page wafter towards her comforting. Even the words on the page—she might not have been reading the book, but she was certainly letting her eyes wander over the familiar shapes, the same old stories she’d grown to know and love—brought a smile to her face, distracting her from the mare in the kitchen she wanted more than anything to hold close…

Putting the book down in defeat, Rainbow stood up and trudged toward the kitchen. She felt as if she were being pulled by an invisible string, or some kind of magnet; she didn’t truly want to go back, but somehow she knew she wouldn’t quite be comfortable until she did. Pushing the door open with caution she was pleased to see the chaos had started to settle down, and Twilight’s muttering had stopped. The unicorn looked almost asleep standing up, were it not for the magic that danced around her horn and the not-quite-relaxed scrunching of her eyes.

Rainbow walked carefully through the kitchen, ducking under a stray onion that nearly hit her head, until she was standing next to Twilight who seemed so absorbed in thought that she didn’t notice (and even if she did, she certainly didn’t react). Slowly, Rainbow leaned to her side, shivering as the fur of her coat came into contact with Twilight, sending waves of electric sensation down her back. Drawing a deep breath she leaned further into Twilight, resting her cheek against the unicorn’s neck. She felt Twilight tense up beside her.

“Rainbow,” she said, her voice restrained and filled with warning. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“And I’m trying to nuzzle you,” Rainbow replied stubbornly, rubbing her cheeks against Twilight’s soft fur to demonstrate her point. Twilight laughed at that, and Rainbow could hear it. Twilight’s laugh had always been beautiful, but Rainbow always loved it more when she could feel Twilight’s body shaking beneath her, and hear the muted tone of the laugh through Twilight herself. It was somehow purer, even if it sounded all the more distant.

Twilight pushed up with her shoulder, shrugging Rainbow off her.

“You know, half a year ago I would never have thought you’d be quite so comfortable openly displaying affection,” she mused, turning to face Rainbow. “You always used to seem so closed.”

“Now that’s not fair, Twi,” Rainbow said. “You know I wouldn’t be this mushy if anypony else were around. I have a reputation to uphold.” Twilight giggled at that, leaning forward to give Rainbow a peck on the cheek; Rainbow couldn’t quite stop concentrating on the lingering sensation of contact on her fur, and desperately wished Twilight’s lips were still there even as the unicorn pulled away to smile at her.

“Dinner’s nearly ready,” Twilight said, turning back to the pots and pans. A sieve flew down from the shelves above them as a saucepan full of sweetcorn and peas drained itself over the sink. “Sit down—I’ll join you in a minute.”

Reluctantly, Rainbow turned and walked over to the small table, noticing for the first time that it was laid with care and concern. The white tablecloth draped across it was not uncommon for Twilight, especially when she wanted to cook something a little more challenging than hayfries and salad, but the tall candle and bottle of red wine were new.

Sitting down cautiously, partly so as not to ruin the delicate setup of the table but also because she was more than a little suspicious, Rainbow slid her chair forward until she was comfortably close to the table. She took a moment to read the label on the wine before turning to look at Twilight, who was focused on dishing up.

“Hey, Twi?” she called. Twilight didn’t look around and continued to carefully drizzle sauce onto plates, but Rainbow could see the momentary pause that she knew meant Twilight had heard her. Satisfied that she had the unicorn’s attention, she coughed quietly to clear her throat. “Where’d you get this wine? And since when did you drink wine, anyway?”

“I just wanted to do something special for tonight,” Twilight replied. Her voice was reserved and quiet, almost inquisitive. Her posture fell slightly, and Rainbow couldn’t help but wonder why Twilight was acting like this.

“Well, it looks great,” Rainbow replied. “I might not know much about wines, but if it’s this old it has to be good, right?” Twilight chuckled at that; her voice sounded flat and empty. Picking the plates up in her magic, she wandered over to the table and set the dishes down.

Rainbow glanced at the plate before her, then back up at Twilight who was sliding herself into her chair. The unicorn looked worried about something.

“Hey, Twilight?” Rainbow asked. Twilight looked up at her and smiled flatly. “Are you alright?” Twilight nodded fiercely and picked up her fork. Rainbow decided to leave it—if Twilight wanted to talk, she would—and enjoy her food, for now, although she didn’t quite feel comfortable doing so when she could see that something was clearly wrong with Twilight.

She picked up her own fork and twisted it in the noodles, collecting a reasonably-sized ball that she stuffed into her mouth. She took the time to savour the taste, though; there were subtleties to the dish that took time to find and enjoy, like the flecks of carrot that were somehow tangy and sweet and sour all in one, or the crunchy onion and pepper that was stirred throughout.

“This is good!” she exclaimed, only to see Twilight frowning at her own plate silently.

“It’s not right, though,” Twilight replied. “I followed the recipe to the letter, made sure everything was cooked exactly as instructed, but it just isn’t quite how it was supposed to be.”

“Twilight,” Rainbow replied, “I didn’t even know you could cook anything beyond hayfries or toast or boiled eggs. This is something I would be happy to pay for in a restaurant, and it tastes all the better because you cooked it for me.”

Just as she picked up another forkful of noodles, Rainbow saw a tear in the corner of Twilight’s eye. Dropping her fork, Rainbow pushed her chair out from the table and stood up, walking to Twilight’s side as fast as she could and wrapping a wing around the unicorn’s shoulders.

“Hey,” she said, nuzzling Twilight softly. She was met with a bone-crushing hug, as Twilight’s breathing was uneven and ragged. Hugging Twilight back, she leant down to whisper in the unicorn’s ear. “It might not be exactly how you wanted it to be, but this dinner is perfect. Do you want to know why?” Twilight nodded against Rainbow’s shoulder. “It’s perfect because my beautiful marefriend put in so much effort to make something amazing to celebrate being together seven months, and she’s even tried to find some wine to make it romantic even though I know she doesn’t like drinking, and on top of all that she’s somehow managed to cook something I would be happy to buy in a restaurant.”

She reached her hoof down beneath Twilight’s chin and pulled upwards gently, tilting her own head to one side as she did so. Twilight’s eyes were wide and surprised, but Rainbow leaned down to press her lips to Twilight’s. The kiss did not last long, but Rainbow put every ounce of emotion she could into it and she could feel Twilight doing the same; it was powerful and passionate and over all too fast.

With a smile, Rainbow pulled away. “Come on,” she said. “We shouldn’t let this food get cold.” Twilight smiled at that, a genuine smile this time, and Rainbow returned to her seat.

“Thanks,” Twilight said quietly, after a few mouthfuls. Rainbow shrugged.

“Twilight, I wasn’t about to spend our seven month anniversary letting you think that you’d messed up,” she said. “Especially not when you’ve made it so awesome.”

Twilight chuckled at that.

“This is awesome?” she asked, cheekily. “I thought the sonic rainboom was ‘awesome’, or a Wonderbolts show or even Daring Do. You might use the word a lot, but I never thought you’d use it for something like this.” She swept her hoof over the table, indicating the candle and roses and wine. Rainbow snorted.

“I’ve never had a relationship that’s lasted this long,” Rainbow replied with a shrug. “And yet each date still fills me with the same nervous excitement the first one did; each kiss makes my stomach do the same flips and whoops of joy that the first one did. The way I see it, that’s pretty awesome.”

They were silent for some time after that. It was a comfortable kind of silence, the kind one settles into with ease and just enjoys the presence of another pony without the need to communicate. It wasn’t expectant or heavy; neither expected the other to break the silence, nor did the silence demand it be unbroken. It was the silence of two ponies who were completely comfortable with each other; it was the sound of intimacy.

“How was your day, anyway?” Twilight asked, after some time. Rainbow snorted and rolled her eyes.

“It was alright,” she admitted. “We spent most of the day dealing with some rogue clouds that had come out of the Everfree. They weren’t particularly helpful—the sort of cloud that sends out a fully-fledged thunderstorm if you so much as nudge them, y’know? Thankfully there wasn’t much else to deal with today.

“What about you?” Rainbow asked. “Did you make much progress?”

Twilight sighed. “Not really,” she said. “In all honesty, I spent most of the morning helping Spike get ready and then most of the afternoon getting things ready for this. I’ve barely had any time to look at the work Princess Celestia’s sent me, let alone my own research.”

“Why did Spike take all morning to get ready?” Rainbow asked, confused. “I mean, I know he’s excited about tonight but it doesn’t take that long to get him all suited up, right?”

“He wanted to do it all himself,” Twilight replied, wincing at some memory. “He wouldn’t let me actually help him, but he needed me to be there to make sure he didn’t do anything wrong. He’s not all too familiar with black tie formalwear, though for that matter neither am I.”

Rainbow let out a low whistle. “That sounds like it was pretty tricky.”

“You have no idea,” Twilight chuckled; she almost sounded bitter, but Rainbow Dash knew she was not too upset with her number one assistant. “Do you know what a cummerbund is? Because neither of us did, and it took five books before we worked out how he was supposed to wear it.”

“Didn’t Rarity make the outfit for him?” Rainbow asked. “Shouldn’t he have seen it put on before?”

“She did,” Twilight said, “but she made it on a model—you know she has a mannequin for Spike now?—and Spike never got to see it assembled.”

It was quiet again for a while. Rainbow finished her plate first, and spent a minute or two just watching her marefriend eat. Whoever said Rainbow Dash had no eye for beauty had clearly never met Twilight.

“You’re beautiful,” she said, smiling happily and not entirely sure why she said that out loud. Twilight looked up, startled, her last forkful of noodles hovering in front of her.

“Where did that come from?” she asked, blushing. Rainbow shrugged.

“You are, though,” she said. “And I don’t tell you enough. I mean, I spend every day up in the sky, flying and soaring and enjoying what most ponies agree is one of the most beautiful sights one can get. And yet I don’t think I would ever choose to stare at the sky when I could just glance at you instead.” Twilight frowned at her.

“I know she’s gotten better with being affectionate, but my marefriend never gives out compliments like that—who are you, and what have you done with the real Rainbow Dash?” Twilight could only keep a straight face for so long, before the two of them collapsed with laughter, Twilight’s final forkful abandoned and the elegance of the table setting long forgotten.

“Oh, I was going to tell you,” Twilight said once the laughter had died down. “I saw Scootaloo today.”

“You did?” Rainbow sat up a little straighter. “How was she?”

“She looked alright,” Twilight said, “but not like she would keep being alright, if you know what I mean.” Rainbow Dash tilted her head and stared down at her empty plate. She felt an uncomfortable pressure at the corners of her eyes, so she tightened her jaw and focused as hard as she could on the oil tracks and crumbs. She was not going to cry, especially not today. “I’m worried about her, Rainbow.”

Rainbow nodded quietly. She couldn’t quite bring herself to look up, or to speak.

“She’s been more and more subdued over the last couple of months,” Twilight continued. “You remember how she used to look at the world with that bright shine in her eyes, looking as if she were ready for anything?” Twilight paused, and Rainbow could hear her taking controlled, deep breaths. “That look is gone, Dash. She’s there, but Scootaloo isn’t.”

“What can I do?” Rainbow asked, her voice bitter and hoarse. “I’m the last mare in Equestria who could help her, Twilight, and you know that much as well as I–”

“She needs you,” Twilight said, softly. “That little filly idolises you and loves you. Without you, she’s morose and as unlike her as I’ve ever seen. But you know what?” Rainbow felt a hoof beneath her chin, and tilted her head up with the light pressure to see Twilight standing by her side, her face right next to hers. “I think you need her, too.”

“I don’t need Scootaloo,” Rainbow said forcefully, “and she certainly doesn’t need me.”

Twilight kissed her, then. It was a soft kiss, this time—the kind of kiss that left Rainbow melting into Twilight’s forelegs, losing all sense of herself. It was a comforting kiss that made Rainbow feel safe, that told her she didn’t have to be strong just right now. It was exactly the way that only Twilight could make her feel, kisses or no, and for just a moment Rainbow was sure that she had never been in love like this before; and it was the kind of kiss that let her admit that.

“Dash,” Twilight said softly, once she had pulled away and taken Rainbow’s face firmly in her hooves, “I love you, but you can be a total idiot sometimes.”

“And I love you too,” Rainbow replied, “even if you can be totally uncool sometimes.” Twilight raised a questioning eyebrow; Rainbow kissed her. “Thank you,” she said, “for dinner and, well, everything, I guess.”

“Is that all the thanks I get?” she asked, smirking cheekily. Rainbow laughed and kissed her again, this time letting her lips linger against Twilight’s, wrapping her forelegs around the unicorn and pulling her close.

Chapter 15: Stuffed Peppers

They’d spent the evening at Fluttershy’s, because anypony else would have felt obliged to put together some kind of raucous celebration and they all knew that none of them were ready for that.

The cottage was a little tightly packed, with all kinds of animals snoozing on the floor around them, but the five friends sat happily around the small table, pressed up close against their neighbours and slowly nibbling their way through the handful of cookies Fluttershy had found in the cupboard to keep them going while she cooked up a batch of stuffed peppers for them all to eat. The train journey from the Crystal Empire had been long and very much lacking in any food service, and they were all starved.

Rainbow Dash’s stomach grumbled, despite the cookie that was crumbling on her lips at that very second. She smiled sheepishly as the ponies around the table laughed, grinning nervously as she caught Twilight’s eye. It had been a long, long day.

“I still say that my greatest disappointment in life is that we didn’t get to keep those fabulous crystal manes, from the very first time we visited the Empire.” Applejack let out a snort as Rarity tossed her own mane with a hoof, the curls of purple hair bouncing softly for a moment after she dropped them. “Miss Harshwhinny would have been sure to have given the Crystal Empire the games at once if we’d looked like that still. I simply cannot believe how delightful we all looked!” she continued as Twilight and Rainbow exchanged a glance of shared tiredness, both with the day and Rarity’s omnipresent care for looks, even when celebrating their success.

“Yeah, Rarity!” Pinkie squealed excitedly, somehow managing to make her voice sound full, rich and loud as it always did without actually raising it, the critters around her slumbering peacefully. “We looked so super amazingtastically awesome! We were all crystally and stuff, and we had all those…” she trailed off, turning to look at Twilight for a moment. Rainbow, Applejack and Rarity all swapped glances—Pinkie Pie being lost for words was almost a miracle in and of itself, but after they day they’d all had nopony would have been surprised to find even Pinkie Pie exhausted. “What’s the word for all those weird flat shapes and angles?”

“Facets?” Twilight suggested, stifling a yawn with her hoof. Pinkie Pie smiled and nodded vigorously.

“Yeah, that’s it. We were so facety. It was really awesome.”

“I don’t know if awesome’s the right word,” Rainbow said slyly. “I mean, the sonic rainboom is awesome, a Wonderbolts show is awesome… hay, Daring Do is awesome. I don’t think getting a bunch of pretty, shiny shapes in our coats and manes is really the same. It was cool, don’t get me wrong, but not awesome.”

“You actually have different meanings for each of those words?” Twilight asked, surprised. Rainbow snorted, and she could see Applejack roll her eyes.

“Of course I do, Twi,” she explained slowly. “That’s how words work. They have meanings. I would’ve thought an egghead like you would know that,” she added, teasingly, shooting Twilight a wink and a warm, affectionate smile. Twilight sighed, her shoulders relaxing with the breath and her lips pushing forward just slightly as air blew between them.

“I know how words work, Rainbow Dash,” Twilight said. She sounded only a little bit indignant beneath the rich tone of jest and mirth that filled her voice. “I’m just surprised to find out that you did.”

Pinkie Pie’s sharp intake of breath was loud enough to turn a few heads at the table, although somehow Rarity had managed to avoid the reaction.

“Oh, Twilight, that was mean,” Pinkie said, frowning, before her face almost seemed to spring into its normal, cheerful expression and her voice regained its bouncy, light tone. “That was a good one!”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Pinkie,” Rainbow said with a scowl, not quite hiding her smile as her friends laughed at her disgruntled frown. She caught Twilight’s eye and stopped even trying to hide it, joining in the laughter completely and freely.

And so it was that when Fluttershy entered with a tray of stuffed peppers she found the rest of her friends laughing, and none of them could quite bring themselves to stop laughing long enough to explain. Sighing at their antics, Fluttershy walked carefully around the table, gently laying a plate in front of each of her friends, before walking herself over to the small coffee table and stool she had left in one corner for her. On her way she passed the sleeping form of Spike—Rainbow watched as Fluttershy glanced at Twilight, who was focusing on the cookie held magically before her, before leaving a small gemstone by his side.

“Hey, Fluttershy,” Rainbow called out as her own laughter began to die down, “what are you doing all the way over there?”

“Oh,” Fluttershy replied. “I’m sorry, Rainbow Dash, but there’s just not enough room for me at the table. You girls shouldn’t worry about me. I’ll be fine over here, so long as I know none of you are too squashed up.”

“Oh, darling, really?” Rarity said, clicking her tongue against her teeth in disapproval. “That simply won’t do. Come on, everypony, let’s try to find some way to fit Fluttershy around this table with us.”

“I don’t think, uh, I mean, you don’t have to do that for me.” Fluttershy smiled nervously, sitting herself down on the stool on the other side of the room. “I’m sure I’ll be able to join your conversation from here. We’re not really that far apart.”

“Don’t be a silly filly.” Pinkie rose and picked up her plate in her teeth, stepping carefully out from between Rainbow and Twilight. She stepped around the table and placed her plate precariously on a relatively empty corner, seating herself on the floor and smiling happily. “There, see?” she said. “Room for everypony.”

Fluttershy picked up her plate and walked to the table, though she looked as if she still wanted to protest. Applejack budged into Rainbow’s side, pushing the pegasus into the gap Pinkie had left to make space for Fluttershy on the side of the table she was walking to. Rainbow lifted herself from the bench and hopped along to the empty space beside her, Applejack shoving her plate along the table with her. She stopped inches short of Twilight, and she shot the unicorn a friendly smile which was returned in kind.

It wasn’t until Fluttershy reached the table and Applejack budged into her more that Rainbow closed the small gap between her and Twilight, and she felt herself shiver as their coats came into contact.

Pinkie Pie had already begun to devour her pepper, even as Fluttershy all but whispered for everypony to tuck in and help themselves. Her enthusiasm was hardly justified, Rainbow thought, as it was not a particularly outstanding dinner—despite Fluttershy’s competence in a kitchen, nopony could really make something so bland as stuffed peppers work the wonders that Pinkie’s expression suggested they had.

The most that could be said for stuffed peppers was that they were food, and they were warm, and right then those were the only two things Rainbow and her friends cared about. Rainbow hadn’t felt this tired since the first time she had met Twilight Sparkle, when the six of them had retrieved the Elements of Harmony and defeated Nightmare Moon, restoring Princess Luna to her true self, and saving Princess Celestia and, ultimately, the day from night everlasting; and in defence of her past self, they had been awake for almost twenty-four hours by the time they defeated Nightmare Moon, and the party Pinkie Pie threw afterwards ensured they didn’t get sleep for another ten.

It was, Rainbow decided, a miracle that they didn’t simply fall asleep there and then, leaning on each other for support in a ring that never ended. They’d look like that picture she’d seen in one of Twilight’s art books once, with the staircase that went up and up and up and somehow brought you back to where you started without ever going down.

Rainbow fought hard to keep her eyes open, but the silence around her was making it hard for her to concentrate. She had thought she was hungry, but half a pepper had seemed to stop her stomach growling and now Rainbow wasn’t entirely sure she wanted any more to eat. Maybe it was just the exhaustion speaking, and Rainbow didn’t want to do anything at all.

She wondered for a moment what they were all going to do when they inevitably needed sleep; would they just fall asleep here, in Fluttershy’s cottage? Despite the little thought in the back of her mind that told her she really ought not impose on Fluttershy for so long, Rainbow couldn’t help but look forward to the idea of just falling asleep with her friends. The image of Twilight dozing, her head rested against Rainbow’s shoulder, appeared in her mind and she was too tired to bring herself to shake it. It was a pleasant thought.

Of course, it was just her mind playing tricks on her when she hadn’t had sleep in so long. That was all it was. That and the idea of being close to a pony—anypony—was always comforting, especially after she had gone so long without.

“Well, it’s been a long day,” Applejack said, interrupting the silence, her knife and fork crashing down on her plate before her as she yawned widely, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment in exhaustion. “As much as I’d like t’stay with y’all, there’s a lot of work to be done on the farm this time of year, and I need to be up early to do it.”

“Oh, come on Applejack,” Pinkie said as the farmer rose to leave. “You don’t have to go just yet, do you?”

“Sorry Pinkie,” she replied, “but I do have to be off.”

Applejack squeezed her way out past Rainbow Dash and began to trot slowly towards the door, when something made her stop in her tracks. Rainbow couldn’t quite see what it was, but she was certain it was something important. Rainbow stood up, her coat brushing against Twilight’s as she did so, and, shivering, walked over to stand by Applejack’s side. Everypony else in the room was silent, and Rainbow could feel their eyes on her.

“You okay, AJ?” she asked, quietly. Applejack’s expression was stern and worried, her face seemed almost a little pale. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“I’m fine,” Applejack replied, her usually powerful voice little more than a whisper. “I just realised something, is all. Don’t y’all worry about me.” She made as if she were going to step forwards and leave, but Rainbow reached out a hoof and placed it on her shoulder, holding her still more by the light pressure than any real force. Applejack could have brushed her off and left if she wanted, but the gesture itself was enough to stop her.

“Come on, AJ,” Rainbow said, firmly. “I’m not going to let you head home by yourself when you’re so obviously upset about something.”

“I ain’t upset,” Applejack replied, her voice low and seething. Rainbow could see her grit her teeth, and she almost took a step back. Rainbow turned and shot a glance at her friends, crowded around the table, and caught Twilight’s eye—the unicorn nodded, and Rainbow turned around to face Applejack once more.

“At least let me walk back with you,” she offered quietly. Applejack breathed in sharply through her nose and nodded once, lightly, as she exhaled. Rainbow turned to wave goodbye to the others. “I’ll be back in an hour, most likely,” she said.

“See you then, darling,” Rarity called. “And good night, Applejack! Sleep well.”

Applejack muttered something as she walked through the doorway, not once turning back, and Rainbow didn’t quite catch it. Exchanging one final, bemused glance with her friends and shrugging, Rainbow left quickly and trotted to catch up with Applejack on the path down from Fluttershy’s cottage.

“Y’know y’all didn’t have to come with me, right?”

“Of course I did,” Rainbow said. “You need a friend, and I’m your friend. It’s kinda my job to look out for you, y’know?”

Applejack sighed, pushing to walk a little faster than Rainbow and stay ahead. Rainbow let herself fall a little behind, leaving Applejack her own personal space, but not enough to suggest that she was giving up on her.

“You should head back,” Applejack said after a few minutes, turning to face Rainbow. She cut her off before she could object, not quite smiling. “I mean it, Rainbow. You should head back to the others, and spend some time with them. In all honesty, what I need right now ain’t a friend—I need a little bit of space and some time alone. I’ll be fine in the morning—hay, I might even be fine in half an hour or so,” she added, smiling a little more reassuringly. Rainbow squinted, her lips curling up to one side in question.

“Alright,” she said, slowly, making sure Applejack knew she didn’t quite believe her. “But I’m coming to find you in the morning if you don’t come back to Fluttershy’s, alright?”

“Deal,” Applejack said, reaching out a hoof. Rainbow reached forward and, smiling wryly, shook it. She watched Applejack walk away for a minute, until her friend was nothing more than a silhouette on the hill ahead, before she turned and walked back to Fluttershy’s cottage.

She and Applejack had covered quite a distance in their few minutes of travel, and while she felt the speed was possible when she needed to keep up with her friend, Rainbow found herself far too tired to walk back at even half the speed. Instead, she kicked off the ground and flapped powerfully with her wings, sending herself into a gentle glide.

All the while, she couldn’t help but think that what she had done was somehow fundamentally wrong—that no matter what she had said, Applejack still needed her. She tried to shake the thought from her mind, but no matter what she did she just couldn’t will it to leave. She snorted in annoyance, coming to land on the bridge at the end of Fluttershy’s garden, shaking her wings as she folded them to her sides before trotting up the path the short distance to the cottage.

As she pushed her way into the open front door, she felt all the heads in the room turn to face her. She shrugged and made her way back to the table, finding that Fluttershy had reheated her pepper.

“Well?” Rarity asked, impatiently, as Rainbow swallowed a mouthful. “How is she?”

“She said she needed some time alone,” Rainbow replied, spearing another piece of pepper on her fork. “I thought I should let her have it. I’m going to check on her in the morning, if she doesn’t come back here tonight.” She looked up at Rarity, challenge in her eyes. “Why? Shouldn’t I have left her?”

“We’re just worried about her, Rainbow Dash,” Fluttershy said, quietly. “And I know you are, too.” Rainbow looked down at her plate, avoiding Fluttershy’s eye.

“Yeah, maybe,” Rainbow said. “I just wish I knew what was wrong. I don’t like it when my friends are unhappy. It’s pretty much the opposite of cool.” She glanced over at Pinkie, surprised to see the party pony snoring, her head laid against Twilight’s shoulder. For a moment, Rainbow wanted to find out how comfortable that would be.

“Maybe she’s just tired?” Twilight suggested, yawning. She giggled sleepily at herself, and Rainbow found herself joining in the laughter. “It has been a long day, after all.”

“Absolutely,” Rarity said, nodding in agreement with Fluttershy. “But well worth the exhaustion, don’t you think?”

“I’m just glad Miss Harshwhinny wasn’t too upset with us,” Fluttershy added, biting her lip.

Too tired to hold a conversation (and the sound of Pinkie’s snores was not helping in the slightest, the sporadic growling both interrupting anypony before they could start to talk and making all of them want to sleep even more), the four friends sat and ate in silence. It was a peaceful, friendly silence, and Rainbow felt almost like she was ready to fall asleep in it.

She almost did—at one moment, she found herself juddering awake, her head falling sharply to one side, with no recollection of having fallen asleep in the first place. But Rainbow was familiar enough with the sensation (she was, after all, Ponyville’s premier napper) that she knew she hadn’t truly slept, no matter how abrupt and surprising the awakening had been.

She turned her head at the sound of the door creaking, noting as she did so that Rarity had joined Pinkie in sleep, leaning back against the wall behind her with a small smile on her muzzle. Applejack was stepping quietly into the room, careful not to wake anypony; Rainbow smiled as she caught her eye.

“You okay?” she whispered. Applejack nodded, quietly.

“I reckon so,” she replied, trotting over to sit back at the table. Rainbow smiled at that. “Thanks,” she added, “for coming out with me, I mean.”

“No problem,” Rainbow said with a gentle shrug. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

As the thudding of her heart, heightened by the shock of a sudden awakening, calmed to a steady pulse, Rainbow felt her eyelids beginning to droop once more. She saw Rarity still sleeping peacefully, her lips parted and the slightest sliver of drool on her lip; Fluttershy looked not far behind her, though the timid pegasus seemed just a little more dignified hunched on her chair than Rarity did, all spread out against the wall. Rainbow half-heartedly chuckled at the irony, too tired to give it her all.

She felt a light pressure on her shoulder and turned to see Twilight’s mane leaning softly against her. She smiled at the sight, her coat tingling at the contact, as she looked up around the room at her friends. She caught Applejack’s eye again and smiled, a tired, goofy grin; Applejack shook her head slowly, smiling in amusement.

As Rainbow Dash slowly drifted off to sleep, exhaustion overcoming her, she realised that exactly what had upset Applejack didn’t matter, because all five of them would be there for her no matter what was causing her pain, and the same would, of course, be true for any of them. In that moment, as her eyes closed and a gentle smile tugged at her lips, Rainbow knew that so long as she had her friends everything would be alright.

Author's Note

And here it is, the end of the month. As much as I want to go back and edit that extremely rushed last chapter, looking for all those typos I've missed and trying to make it work as a chapter on its own rather than just a way to tie up loose beginnings, my challenge was to get this all finished at midnight, the moment December begins. I'd love to have spent more time on this, but the challenge was plain and clear and, while I know this isn't my best work, that was really part of the fun, wasn't it?

This is the second time I've written out this AN due to fimfiction refreshing before I could save, so I'm just going to go ahead and say it: it's time for acknowledgements!

Acknowledgements:
Oh Robbie, you wonderful thing, you. For those of you who don't know (i.e. most of you), Robbie is an old friend of mine who very kindly gives up his time to read pretty much everything I write. He's not a brony, and everything he knows about this fandom comes from the explanations I give him as he keeps up. He does an amazing job and puts in an awful amount of effort and nothing I ever do could have happened without him.

Thanks go to my beta-readers: Blade Star (who liked this fic) and Grayfire (who didn't). Thank you both for your feedback—it was absolutely appreciated. Also thanks to KingRui, who does all my awesome cover art and did this one at very short notice. All three of you are awesome.

Thanks to everyone involved in NaNoWriMo 2014, especially all the people in the Oxfordshire NaNo Group. You guys really made today bearable, and it was nice to get out for a little while and swap success stories. My best wishes and thanks to everyone who participated, whether you won this year or not.

Thanks to the crazy people who call themselves my friends, who put up with a month of self-enforced social isolation from me. For many of you, the only contact you've had with me over November comes in the forms of messages containing nothing more than a wordcount and smiley, or an awful lot of whining about how this wasn't possible. I swear I'm going to spend December making it up to you all.

I made a few references in this fic, so I'll try to credit the ones I can remember. Remember how Celestia married Wind Whistler? Not my idea. Oh, and the hill Twilight and Dash got together on? Also unoriginal. Finally, I may have name-dropped this awesome song at some point. If there's anything I've forgotten, I'll mention it in a blog post!

This fic is heavily inspired by the work of bats. It may not have gone in the direction I originally planned, but every step along the way this fic has been based on bats' ideas on portraying the TwiDash relationship, and I think it made the fic a heck of a lot better. That said, bats pulls it off way better than I do, so if you've never read Rainbow Rambles go and do that now!

A quick thanks to Ringcaat, Pen Stroke and SS&E for writing the three fics that gave me the boost I needed to get into this fandom, write for this fandom, and write experimental stuff for this fandom (in that order.) You guys all rock my socks.

Finally, thanks to you. You've just read through a fic that was written to be deliberately challenging and force you to think outside the box, just a little. Whether or not you've liked it, the very fact that you've read all of this without giving up and going home means a heck of a lot to me, and has made this month-long journey to Tartarus and back absolutely worthwhile. Thank you!

Until the next fic (which I promise won't be so rushed!)
Quill Scratch