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Gone So Long
Jeffrey C. Wells
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"What if it all just... goes away?"
Rarity drops to all fours. Until a moment ago, she had been standing rampant, poking and prodding my crystal-studded mane with her hooves. It is a new strategy, being made up on the fly; it seems to be going well, if the state of my stylist is any measure. Rarity has utterly regained her lost composure. The errant hairs of her own mane have been smoothed back into place, and her voice has returned to that light, sweet, entirely affected Canterlot accent I've come to love. Rarity the Unicorn is mistress of herself and her world once more.
"Turns out all it took was a little personal touch," she'd been saying, as she worked on my look. "Well! That's worth a letter to the Princess, I think! I was so intimidated by the sheer complexity of your ancient and ceremonial manestyle I forewent my better judgment and relied exclusively on an arsenal of telekinetically-wielded tools instead of just putting my hooves to work. I didn't have confidence in myself. Hm... not sure how I'll spin it into mentioning the concept of 'friendship,' though. Perhaps I'll do what I always do and tack on a '...and a good friend will help you realize that' at the end? Princess Celestia usually finds that to be perfectly satisfactory. It's cheating a bit; but on the other hoof, we can't be always expected to learn lessons on the topic of friendship exclusively, now can we? Besides! I'm of the firm opinion that learning something new about yourself and your work can easily influence your friendships with other ponies for the better. The more I think about it, the more I realize that this really is a friendship lesson after all! I needn't feel even a bit ashamed. Not that there's anything wrong with doing something a little scandalous now and again. Keeps the blood pumping, I say—"
"What if it all just... goes away?"
Rarity puts her monologue on hold. She blinks.
"Sorry, Your Highness?" she says, after a moment. "If you're worried about the staying power of the Ceremonial Headdress, you need have no fear. You could practically wear this style into the thick of battle and avoid a helmet entirely." She gives an airy, musical little chuckle.
"No, no," I say. "I'm sure the Royal Ceremonial Headdress will be fine. I'm talking about everything else."
"'Everything... else'?"
I shift my head on the styling couch as best as I am able, gesturing up at the gleaming calcite walls of the Imperial Day Spa's solarium with one gold-shod hoof. "This."
"The spa?" says Rarity, frowning. "Good heavens. This place has a virtual monopoly and is regularly attended by the sitting monarch of the realm, viz., your royal ponyship. Things happen, of course, but you can't possibly be worried about it going out of business, can you?"
"No. Not that it's going to go out of business. That it's going to go away."
She chuckles again. "Come now, Princess. You're letting the Games inspector's visit get to you. I'm sure the castle tour is going just swimmingly. And when we're all done here, we'll present you to her in all your glory. Why, she won't be able to help being impressed! A perfect, exquisite princess such as yourself presiding over a perfect, exquisite city..."
"A perfect, exquisite city that, one day long ago, ceased to exist."
Rarity makes a tutting noise. "Oh, I see. Is that what all this is about? Darling—may I call you 'darling,' Your Highness?"
"You may."
"Good, because half the time I can't help myself. It's like a facial tic. Darling, I'm sure you've little to fear. I felt the force of love and unity that you and the citizens of the Empire brought to bear on that wicked shadow-king. I was right there at the epicenter, if you'll recall. Nothing vile or unwholesome could have withstood it. I am absolutely confident that King Sombra is out of your hair, as it were, and that you'll never again have to worry that he'll vanish this storied land."
"I wish I shared your confidence, Rarity."
"Many ponies do."
I smile, despite myself. "Even if you're right, though," I say. "Even if he himself is gone forever, Sombra's curse was an unprecedented use of dark magic. There isn't another place in Equestria that's absorbed so much of it. Aunty Celestia still doesn't completely understand how it was accomplished, and she's the most experienced magic-user alive. Who's to say that the curse is gone for good? Who's to say that this isn't a bubble, a high point on some sort of existence waveform? Who's to say that I'm not going to wake up in the middle of the night one evening to find myself alone in a snowstorm on the face of a dark glacier?"
"Darling—"
"I dreamed that happened once, Rarity. I woke up shaking. Shining Armor had to spend an hour talking me down over a pair of midnight herbal teas, and he doesn't even like the stuff."
"Well, there you are, darling." says Rarity. "You won't be alone. You've a husband, at least. A very commendable one, at that."
"But what if I don't have him? What if the curse takes him, too? Or takes me?" I feel the unpleasant tide of a cascading worry scenario begin to rise, and I know how foalish I'm beginning to sound. I press on anyway. Sometimes there is no helping it; sometimes it all just has to come out. "What if I'm here and my Shiny is in Canterlot, or even out on patrol; and suddenly I blink, and a thousand years have passed? Or the other way around! What if I'm visiting Aunty for tea one day, and I return to find my home and husband gone?"
Rarity deftly weaves another sky-blue crystal into my mane, securing it with a twist of her hooves. She purses her lips, saying nothing.
"I've lived my entire life without the Empire," I say, hoping Rarity's silence constitutes patient forbearance rather than disapproval. "Now, I can't imagine myself without it. Aunty says that it's more than just an assignment. She's traced my lineage; I'm a descendant of the Empire's first queen, she tells me, and the crystal ponies know it too. They love me for it, little as I deserve. This place is a part of who I am. And even if I never realized it, I was born to be part of it, too. I've been preparing to be here, to be who I am, right now, for my entire life. I can't stand the thought of it just... going away."
A braid, a twist, a tuck. Rarity is efficient and beautiful in all that she does.
"What if I lose you?" I suddenly say. "I mean... I know we don't know each other so well. But the bridal gown you designed for me was wonderful." I sigh. "Both of them were wonderful, actually, and it's a crying shame I never got the chance to wear the first one. You're all a part of my life, all you girls. What if I have to go the entire rest of my life without seeing another brilliant original creation from Rarity of Ponyville?"
"You will cope," says Rarity, trimly. "When it happens, you will grieve, and it will hurt."
I glance away, thoroughly abashed by her tone. "I'm sorry."
"No need to be sorry, darling. I'm merely explaining the facts to you, because this Equestria Games business has got your head practically on backwards. 'What if' you have to go the rest of your life without seeing another brilliant dress from my hooves? As though it isn't an inevitability, some day! You will lose everything in life, darling. One by one, every little thing you treasure will be taken from you, until the final end when you lose everything that's left in one fell swoop. After that, it's anypony's guess. Fluttershy and I have had this conversation, and we've come to different conclusions, but that's well outside of the scope of what we're talking about right now. I don't want you thinking that I'm talking exclusively about, you know, the end of life. There are a thousand more ways in which good things will drift away from you. Friends move away. Business climates change. Winter comes, or is mandated, at least. In each case, the process of dealing with it is very much the same.
"The simple fact is, when you lose a button, your garment won't look right for a time, and the rest of the buttons and stitches will have to bear the weight for a while. That's just how it is. If you've taken care to nurture your garment a little in advance—kept the stitches strong and the other buttons sewn tight—they'll most assuredly be there to help support the strain. In time, you will make repairs, as you are able. It will never be the same garment again, but it is likely to be equally wearable. So, never you fear."
"It just makes you want to stop," I say. "To stop everything. To stop losing things for a while."
"To stop time?" says Rarity, smiling a little. "Our dear Twilight attempted that once, in one of her little fits. Thankfully, good sense eventually prevailed. Tell me, darling—you believe you've achieved a state of perfection here in the Empire. Everything you've ever dreamed. If you could stop time today, you would?"
"I'm not saying I actually want to, but—"
"Now let's rewind the film to your wedding day. A threat to Equestria utterly neutralized by the power of you and Shining Armor's love for one another. Love is in bloom, a beautiful bride, a handsome groom, et cetera. Had I asked you then, would you have called that a state of perfection? Everything you'd ever dreamed?"
"Yes," I say. "I probably would have."
"So you see the problem with stopping time. This beautiful city, your birthright, never to exist for you at all! Furthermore, if you were to stop time today, this instant, what about when the six of us inevitably succeed in locking in the Equestria Games for your city, restoring it to a place of prominence on the world stage rather than just a quaint relic of a bygone day? And when you and Shining Armor eventually welcome a foal into this world—"
"Stop it," I say, smiling and blushing.
"You can't possibly deny to me that you're trying," she says, telekinetically poking me with the end of a brush.
"No," I admit, "I can't."
"Surely when I ask you on the day of that blessed event, you'll be tempted to say the same thing?"
"You're right, you're right. Of course you're right."
"Of course I'm right," she says. "Your Highness."
"It's just that..."
"Mm?" Rarity arches an eyebrow.
I hesitate, trying to construct a box of words that will fit my last remaining doubt. "It's just that when things are here, they're here so briefly. And when they're gone, they're gone so long."
"Well, then, darling, all the more reason to be flagrant about them."
"'Flagrant'?"
"Of course, darling. Might I be so presumptuous as to offer you, of all ponies, a lesson?"
"Of course you might."
Rarity fidgets a little, suddenly, put into the uncomfortable position of pedagogue. "Well then," she says. "I realize the future is unpredictable, but barring some accident or mishap it seems likely that you long-lived alicorns will be around long after the six of us Elements of Harmony are gone. So I want you to carry this with you wherever you go, after us."
She puts the brush down, collecting herself for a moment. "Don't just love, Your Highness. Enjoy. Grab the things you love with all your hooves and stick your face in like there's no tomorrow. Keep drinking the milkshake until you can't pour any more down your throat, and then drag on the straw until it's bone-dry, even if you make a lot of unpleasant sucking noises in the process. And then take the little steel mixing cup they give you alongside the glass and just stuff your muzzle right in there and make a mess of your face if you need to. Break down the barriers between you and your milkshake and be an idiot about it. Because you never know when your next milkshake is coming, and it will be small comfort in your long and milkshakeless hours how properly you comported yourself drinking the last one!"
Rarity clears her throat, then, and hops down off the salon table she'd impulsively leapt up on.
"That is, ah, if nopony really important you want to impress is watching."
I beam at her. "Thank you, Rarity."
"Well, take it with a grain of salt," she says, resuming her work on one of the Royal Ceremonial Headdress's two ridiculously complicated crown braids. The other already grips my scalp in an aching triumph of coiffeusery. "I've been involved in my share of social boo-boos, after all. But I suspect that your Aunty Celestia enjoys things in the way I've just described, and it's kept her sane, respected and beautiful all her whole life long."
"Two out of three, at least," I murmur, with a wicked grin.
Rarity giggles at the scandal of it all.
The endless work of my ceremonial manedressing resumes.
"Rarity?" I say, at last.
"Yes, Your Highness?"
"I'm really enjoying the time we're spending here. But once we're done—once you and your friends do indeed win the Games for us—I would even more enjoy your assistance in wildly demolishing this ridiculous manedo and then joining the six of you in the mother of all crystal steam-sauna parties."
"How wildly are we talking?"
"Let's just say that I will quite responsibly be issuing eye protection to everypony involved."
"Will there be mineral water?"
"Yes," I say. "And it will have fruit in it. Would you enjoy that?"
"Your Highness," says Rarity, "I would enjoy that with unrestrained abandon."
"Excellent," I say.
And time, bless its beating heart, continues.
Author's Note
For a friend.
