When the sun rose that morning, the delighted face of Rarity was there to greet it.
She tossed her mane, the purple locks settling into perfection. Today was the day. Looking around her dimly lit bedroom, her attention fell on a crumpled pile of fine fabric at the foot of her bed. She suddenly realized it had been there for days, while she had been caught in her own dramatics. It was a dress, one of her self proclaimed finer works, something that strayed from her usually floral creations. It was a fetching dark gown, crafted with soothing and tempting black and the occasional flourish of creamy whites. A smile worked onto her face, and the dress drifted up from the floor to float before her eyes. She had been the grandest mare at the Grand Galloping Gala, the one mare that every stallion had wanted to dance with. Rarity had always known she was fabulous, but it never hurt to get a bit of reinforcement. Yet, as she danced the night away with more handsome bachelors than she could count, there had been one thing that had irked her.
She couldn’t avoid seeing him every few minutes that night. That stallion, the one that had ruined her ‘best night ever’ a year ago. Prince Blueblood. He was always to one side, chatting with other mares or moving through the crowds in the corner of her eye. He danced, he joked, he charmed... He had become something she’d never expected of him; a true gentlecolt. And yet, that was what had fueled her ire to begin with. Her face slowly twisted into a frown as the memory of the night played out. That... Prince ‘Cakeface’ had paid her no mind, not even when she had given him open invitation for even the most casual of conversations. He had ignored her, had brushed her off for the plethora of mares that tailed him. Urgh! Had she not been the one to whip him into shape, force that stallion off his pompous behind and learn some form of decency? Yes, yes she was! And had he shown any appreciation, thanks or acknowledgement?
She flicked her head to the side, and the gala dress flew into the corner. Of course not. He had ignored her throughout the entire evening. How dare he! Rarity tossed her mane once again, trying to regain composure, and dashed after the dress. Why should her work suffer for the sake of that stallion? She hung the garment carefully in her closet, making a mental note to tend to it later. It had far too many wrinkles for her taste. It would need to be pressed and straightened back into perfection.
“Perfection....” Rarity exhaled, turning back towards the fading dawn. That’s right. Today was the day. She had spent the night after the Gala tromping around her room in her own storm of wrath. Combined with the apathetic whines of her cat, rage had brought her to this moment. The feeling of wrath slipped into regret, regret into confusion, and confusion into an endless sea of woe. At least, that’s what she felt. It didn’t take much to coax her out of her self inflicted hell. She was being pathetic. Why should she, the great Rarity, fuss about some stallion that had been the greatest faux pas since wearing red and purple? Blueblood was not worth the time of day, and it took her two days to realize that the past was holding her back.
Once she had figured that out, there was only one thing left to do. Get rid of what was holding her back, the fragments of her past that were still causing her pain. Mainly, Blueblood. And with the removal of her past came the removal of too many things to count. All too heavy for a pony of her nature. That was why she had called up Big Macintosh yesterday. He was the final step to the new Rarity, and once he dragged the cart of miscellaneous objects away to the dump, she would be free. At least, that was the plan. Rarity nodded to assure herself before going to get some breakfast for the long day ahead.
Munching on some cereal, Rarity sighed. She didn’t have the desire to pull out anything more complicated than cereal. There were too many distracting thoughts dominating her mind. As her magic fished out another spoonful of the sugar crusted wheat, there was a knock at the door. She jumped up and brought herself together in an instant. That had to be Big Macintosh. She gave her mane one last flip to ensure she looked decent before calling him into the kitchen. The door gave a slow creak followed by hesitant hoofsteps and the slight half smile of Big Macintosh.
“Mornin, Miss Rarity. You said to be here early, and so I am. Must be a big job.” He gave a courteous nod. Rarity may have been his sister’s friend, but that didn’t mean he could relax. If anything, he forced himself to be even more formal. He was never the type to be rude to anypony to begin with, but Rarity wasn’t just anypony. She was one of his sister’s closest friends, and if he messed up, Applejack would hear of it. Nothing like the threat of Applejack biting his head off if Rarity complained to convince him to be on his best behavior. Big Macintosh brought his head up to look over the lady before him. He couldn't think of a time that she didn’t look perfect. Chuckling to himself, he wondered how he looked. He made a half baked attempt of smoothing down his mane, hoping that would possibly make him look better. She was a lady, after all and even though they were alone in her home, he still had to look presentable. Of course, his mane was not as complacent as hers, and boasted odds and ends sticking up in every which way. No matter how he brushed, a few reluctant strands would slip out.
Rarity giggled at his attempts to tame his unruly mane. The way his face was set made it obvious. He was trying to tidy himself up. “Big Macintosh, I’m so glad that you’re here to help me.” Her tail swayed as she walked past the stallion, the movement catching his attention enough to snap him back to reality. His eyes followed the bouncing purple tail all the way up the stairs to the attic. He noticed her pausing for just a moment, her body stiff as she seemed to force herself to open the door. She trotted in, her tail finally holding still.
“Behold, my collection of mementos.” She waved her hoof around the dusty room an odd smile on her face. The only emotion that Big Macintosh could read was overwhelming embarrassment. His green eyes scanned the room, trying to make out the shapes, noting that everything looked decrepit or simply coated in dirt.
“Sorry it’s such a mess. It’s my attic, I don’t pay it much mind.” Rarity spun in place as she attempted to figure out what to throw out first. She never did like throwing anything out. Everything had the potential to lead to beauty, no matter how dirty it was. However, she had to rationalize. The attic could become so much more, a wonderful place to sew, or perhaps her own little at-home spa. Rarity stopped looking and started to plan what to do with the newfound space. Caught in her own thoughts, she barely noticed Big Macintosh nudging open a nearby box. The ruffle of paper, tinged yellow with age, was more than enough to send her scrambling towards him.
“Ah no! Not those!” Rarity screeched. She launched herself at the stallion, her body making a dainty thunk at her restrained attack. Big Macintosh raised an eyebrow at the mare pressing against him. “Ah well you see, those are my pictures...” She swallowed hard. “... of Prince Blueblood, from when I was infatuated with him.” Rarity hung her head as if she had done some grave and disgusting act, her face flushed with the awkwardness of the situation. Big Macintosh could only chuckle.
“What are you laughing at?” Rarity backed away from him, scrunching her nose. “You simply do not understand. I was young, much less... sophisticated.” She made a face, somewhat reluctant to tell the stallion. But this was Big Macintosh, not any random stallion off the street, and she could surely trust him of all ponies to keep his mouth shut. He never said much anyway. She could lend him some trust, if only for today. Her magic dipped into the box, pulling out a rather ratty picture of a younger Prince Blueblood. Though barely a teenager, he still had that disgusting smug smirk that made her want to rip the paper to shreds. And yet, she could see the faint smears of lip gloss. Her face contorted into contempt, which made the stallion cringe.
“Miss Rarity, Ah’m sorry if I...” She cut Big Macintosh off with a wave of her hoof.
“Don’t worry darling, it’s all going in the garbage anyways. I was such a silly filly in love. Well, grand infatuation would be far more fitting.” Rarity scooped out a few more pictures all with the scant protection of lip gloss from her kisses. “You know, when I was little, he really was the most amazing thing I had ever seen. More interesting than the Ponyville colts. No offense to you, but he was... brilliant, captivating, enchanting...” Rarity made an swooning sigh before sticking out her tongue. “I can’t believe I fell for that. It seems that the handsome ones are always the unsavory types. No offense to you, again...”
Did she inadvertently call him handsome? Her pale face flushed with embarrassment and her scraps of paper fell to the ground. Perhaps he would not catch that little blip in her behavior.
“Oh Miss Rarity,” he began in his typical drawl. “Ah won’t take offense to that. You act like any youngin’ can control who they like.” Big Macintosh hoped that would comfort the mare. She really did look flustered, and frantic ponies were never a good thing. But of course, she could always just be embarrassed at the accidental compliment she had given him, like he was. Never had he been more grateful that his coat was red. There was no reason to let the lady know that his thoughts had deviated, even in the slightest, from the task at hand. He cleared his throat, pleased that her beautiful face returned to its usual state of perfect composure.
“I suppose you’re right, Big Macintosh. You could take that box outside for me, though.” As he lifted the box up, he couldn't help but return the gentle smile that had formed on her face. It seemed that his mistake had been forgiven and all was well. He wobbled down the staircase, walked outside and heaved the oddly heavy box onto the cart, pushing it into a corner. Rubbing his nose, he looked back to the ornate building. He could see her silhouette ghosting past the windows of the attic every few minutes and a smile worked its way across his face once again. To have this much energy in the beginning of the day was a feat. Though the morning was cool and the sun was slowly being dragged up sky, he felt refreshed. It was a change of scenery. He normally rose early to begin with, often greeting the dawn with a half awake groan and a forceful stretch to get out of bed to do the same tedious chores. A change of pace was always a good thing, especially when it involved such a pretty mare. And she really was pretty.
Big Macintosh shook his head. That was no way to think of his sister’s friend, no matter how interesting and sophisticated she was. There was work to be done, and work was more important than anything else. Work first, play later. Walking back to the house, the stallion cringed at an ear splitting crash coming inside. He poked his head through the door to see that the mare’s magic was floating some boxes from the attic to the bottom of the stairs, where they were unceremoniously dumped. He raised an eyebrow at the boxes, especially at the few that had toppled over. She really was treating everything like junk. The few things on the floor varied from scraps of cloth to magazines to hats and... a tiara?
He nudged at the tarnished bit of silver on the floor, curious as to why she would even think of throwing out something like this. It was precious metal, something that anypony would keep locked away in their jewelry boxes, something that a pony would treasure. Yet here it was, old and forgotten, covered in dust. Picking it up between his teeth, he pulled it away from the oncoming parade of cardboard boxes. He gave the tiara a closer look. It was very tiny, and obviously made for a foal. The purple gems that were barely visible under all the grime were a familiar shade. The same as the mane of the gorgeous mare that was finally descending the stairs.
“I’ve cleaned out the attic entirely, as you can tell. Now I just need to decide what to throw out and what to...” Her face fell, she bit her lip and let out a sudden, sharp cry. Big Macintosh cringed at the unexpected wail, dropping the tiara. She puffed up her cheeks and slowly exhaled as her heart pounded, her youth suddenly crashing upon her. The days she had wasted spinning around in her silver tiara that gleamed from her almost incessant polishing, time spent staring at the beautiful dresses of princesses in all of her fairy tale books, her passion for dressmaking being fueled by a simple and childish wish to become a real princess, all of it, long forgotten, was now violently being dragged to the front of her mind.
Big Macintosh recovered from the shock of the scream, finally bringing himself together to speak.
“Miss Rarity, are you... alright?” The approach had to be careful. He could attempt to cheer her up, but only a fool would not take caution against a distressed pony. Her bottom lip quivered a bit, her sapphire eyes cast to the dirty metal by his hoof. Why such a thing would make her scream like that was beyond him, but there had to be a reason. As dramatic as Rarity was, there was always a trigger, no matter how miniscule. “Miss Rarity?” He said again with a bit more force. Was she really that out there, or was she simply ignoring him? He nudged the tiara with his hoof, surprised when her eyes darted after it. Big Macintosh shrugged, picking it up in his mouth and offering it to her.
“It’s filthy.” She said, her nose wrinkling. He couldn't help but chuckle at Rarity’s response. It was so very much like her, to focus on the dirt that was leaving a very unpleasant taste in his mouth. She graciously took the tiara from his mouth, leaving him to deal the the metallic taste. A scrap of cloth flew past his eyes via magic and set to work rubbing grime of the tiara. But even though she was polishing it, the worry had not vanished. Instead, he raised an eyebrow at her, eyes trained on her upturned snout. Once the tiara began to gleam, she let a lazy eye fall upon her guest. “Yes, Big Macintosh?”
“Why did you yell, if you don’t mind me askin?”
“Nothing of too much importance.”
“Miss Rarity, if you screamed, Ah think it’s pretty important. But if you want to leave it...”
“Oh Big Macintosh...” She could trust him with her secrets once again. He would never breathe a word of this conversation outside of these walls, and that was a fact. Now if she could only explain... “I always wanted to be a princess you know. I suppose every foal has a moment where they wish to be more than they are, something made up and grand.” She chuckled. “I decided that I was going to be a princess. They were always so beautiful and glamorous, and how could Rarity ever say no to that?My parents always read me stories of pretend princesses that had the most wonderful fashions. That’s how I became interested to begin with.” She looked the tiara over, huffing at the dirt that still remained.
“All those fancy fairy tales made you want to make dresses? Well that’s somethin else, Miss Rarity. You do make pretty clothes.”
“Ah, well thank you... It’s very kind of you to say that. But, as the cliche goes, I did want to be a princess. And well, Blueblood was the ticket to my dreams. He was a handsome prince. Being a princess used to mean so much to me. I know it’s not his fault that it was ruined... But it gave me a dose of reality.” She looked over the shining tiara with a somber smile. “Fairy tales are fairy tales, and they don’t always come true, no matter how hard you wish and try. Wonderful things do happen, just not all the time...”
As her head hung, Big Macintosh shuffled over to Rarity’s side. He gingerly took the tiara out of her magical grasp and placed in a nearby box. Pawing at the ground, he had no idea what to say to the mare. She was obviously distressed, to say the least, but what could he possibly do? With no extensive practice in the area of dealing with the emotions of a hurt pony, the only thing he could do was reach out a tentative hoof to touch hers. He was careful, his muscles prepared to spring back if she protested in the slightest. He was relieved that she did not complain, but pressed her hoof against his. At least now she was smiling at him, a coy half smile that revealed her improved mood.
“Ah’m sure that one day you’ll feel like a princess, at least...” Big Macintosh’s other hoof rubbed the back of his head, his face flushed as he struggled to find the right words. It wasn’t a secret that Rarity could be dramatic. In fact, it was the very first thing that garnered his attention. She was so unrestricted in her feelings, something that not only entertained, but interested him. Big Macintosh looked her over,trying to read her body language. His naturally quiet nature forced him to learn by observation. Rarity’s hoof was still pressing into his, there was a slight pink tone on her cheeks, and the mare’s face had a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips. He swallowed hard at the nervous chuckle she made. The silence had become awkward, forcing him to speak once again. “You of all ponies deserve it.”
“Oh Big Macintosh...” Rarity giggled, pulling her hoof away from his with another nervous chuckle. “Perhaps you should get back to those boxes, if you would be so kind. I know that you have a lot of work to do on the farm, and I already feel so guilty for taking you away from that.”
“Don’t worry, Miss Rarity, it’s not a problem. Ah told Applejack Ah was coming to help you.” Big Macintosh heaved a box onto his back, “Ah’ll help you tidy up.”
“Oh thank you, Big Macintosh.” Rarity began pack up the random items that had spilled out of their boxes. That simple thank you was an understatement to her gratitude. Not only was he helping her move on, but he had comforted her, as awkward as it had been. Sympathy in the smallest degree went a long way, and that alone made the work feel lighter. “I do enjoy your company, you’re making this far more enjoyable.”
“My pleasure.” He grunted, as they went back to work. Rarity continued to sort through the variety of items, occasionally looking things over for her own personal laugh. She had lent him her trust for today, and she was going to abuse it. So she told him everything. She shared little bits of her diaries with him, giggling at her own dramatics in good humor, explained the stories behind bits of clothing that stuck out, even her disastrous attempt to glam up cheerleader outfits.
Somehow, the feeling of despair was melting away, and she was laughing at herself with more freedom. Perhaps it was the true effect of moving on, or maybe it was that she had a stallion she could trust by her side, but whatever it was, it made her bubbly. A stallion by her side? She was rushing things, her usual passion for romance getting ahead of her and making her think of the most ludicrous things. But it was fun to imagine, to have his company always, to perhaps have a stallion that treated her well, one who cared for her well being and put his own comfort aside to dry her tears. Rarity knew her cheeks were painted red with embarrassment, and was grateful that he seemed too busy moving boxes to truly pay her looks any mind. She tossed an old moth chewed scarf into the nearest open box and sighed. The boxes were quickly vanishing, taken away to the cart to be dumped and never seen again... a bittersweet comfort. Slowly but surely, it was all slipping away, carried out the door with a grunt and steady hoofsteps.
Her past had once revolved around Blueblood being the ‘one just for her’. All she left with was disappointment. Though she could feel all the ire in her heart bubble and brew once again, the regret and frustration trying to creep into her thoughts, Rarity fended them off. All of those feeling lurking in the back of her mind had brought her to this moment, and she would not let them stand victorious. There was to be a new and improved Rarity when this was over.
“Miss Rarity, Ah’m done.” Big Macintosh cringed at her yelp of surprise. He didn’t mean to startle her, and he stumbled back in his own bout of shock, guilt streaking through him. He should have known she was lost in her own little world. After all, he had been stealing glances at her the entire time, watching her face shift as she told her stories. Though he should have been working, it didn’t stop him from pausing a few seconds longer than he should have each and every time. Her expressions were intriguing. They would shift into something other than her usual slender smile. Maybe a slight pout, furrowed brows, playful smirks, and a myriad of other little expressions; but it would always fall back to that smile. But of course, all things had to end. After all, that had been the purpose of her cleaning out the memory filled attic to begin with, moving all the neatly packed boxes to their final resting place under piles of garbage. To bring her past to its rightful end. Yet as she stood next to the stallion hitching himself to the cart, her hoof dug into the dirt.
“Oh, I see. Shame you have to leave so quickly.” Rarity mumbled. “I did love spending time with you. You may visit anytime you wish. Maybe... tea next time?”
“Of course Ah’d love to come and see you.” Big Macintosh replied. Sighing heavily, Rarity remembered that subtlety was never once of her strong suits, She leaned forward and laid a gentle peck on his cheek.
“Thank you so much, Big Macintosh.”
“Anytime, Miss Rarity.” The stallion gave a minute nod of the head at her affectionate gesture, hoping that his smile would be enough to show his appreciation. With a loud sigh and the cart’s hefty creak, he started on his way to the dump.
Standing outside her home in disbelief, it took Rarity a moment to realize what she did. When Big Macintosh faded away into the bustle of the town, she knew she had symbolically freed herself from everything that had to do with Blueblood. Her infatuation and her general contempt was now being carried away to be discarded and forgotten. Entering her house, she looked over the slightly dusty foyer and gave a sigh of relief. It was all over with. Though there was a part of her, a single tiny shred that latched to her old hopes and dreams, Rarity scoffed. That would never dominate her thoughts again. Never would her past pollute her new found future, filled with handsome possibilities. A possibly handsome future indeed.