Nothing is Constant

by Cynewulf

Rating: teen
Tags: Romance, Princess Luna, Rarity, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 5857

Everything changes, and ponies aren't any different.

Twilight has learned that ponies can change a lot in only a year or two.

And she's okay with that. Maybe.

Published 2016-02-09 23:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2016-02-09 23:30:02 UTC

Everything Flows

Nothing is Constant

Celestia had said something strange once that Twilight had never quite been able to forget. She remembered the faraway look in her eyes, as if she were seeing another pony or another time. Or another world, she had thought when she was younger and more open to such flights of whimsy.

“A mare crosses a river only once, Twilight. When she returns, it is always a different mare and a different river.”

And whenever Twilight found herself in some new place, doing some new thing, she remembered that nothing stayed the same. She had thought of this when she was working up the courage to ask Celestia to let her stay in Ponyville, and when her library had been destroyed. Nothing is constant.

She was thinking it now, as she stood uncomfortably in a beautiful dress made with care. She thought it over the milling crowd as her wings fidgeted, exposed to the watching eyes. And there were a lot of eyes, and they were all interested.

She had changed so much since moving to Ponyville. She had friends. She was older now, and with experience had come confidence. But there was a big difference between talking in front of ponies with note cards and… being watched. By everypony.

Twilight swallowed.

It didn’t help that she was wandering aimlessly through the crowd in the vague direction of the punch. Or, well, what she assumed was punch. Were this a normal party, and she a normal party-goer, the geographical zone she was on her way towards would have been the home of the punch.

Ah, but it wasn’t a normal party. This was the four hundredth Masque of Dusklight, and Twilight Sparkle was the third most easily recognized pony attending. It was a bit difficult to hide her identity behind the beautiful mask: how many alicorns were there, and how many were purplish all over? One, that’s how many.

She hadn’t come here alone, of course. Rarity was somewhere… how had she lost her?

Ah, yes, to the press of the crowd and some friend from Manehattan’s upper crust. It actually hadn’t bothered Twilight at all. It had been her idea that Rarity stay and chat while she stretched her legs. And she found that she didn’t mind, because Rarity loved to talk and mingle. Rarity loved high society in ways that Twilight found baffling, frankly, and she glided along the paths of influence and power.

Twilight, on the other hoof, meandered on those paths. It wasn’t that she was shy and couldn’t talk to ponies, or that she was ignorant. She knew a lot about the nobles of the city and the machinations of Celestia’s government. She knew things about foreign policy and foreign news, all the wars and peacemakings and trade and scandal. She could talk at length about anything that you would find ponies at a fancy party like this talking about, really. Any of it. So it wasn’t that she was ignorant and it wasn’t that she couldn’t talk.

It was just that there was always a disconnect. Twilight could talk to ponies, but it often seemed that she was really talking at them. Towards them. And she didn’t like it. They looked at her strangely, or with glazed-over eyes, and she never knew what to do about it--when she even noticed.

It wasn’t their stares that bothered her. She was a well-bred sort from a rich and virtuous family who had studied with the principality’s autocrat and object of occasional semi-religious awe much of her life. Attention didn’t faze her. It was the expectations that made Twilight quicken her step.

She found punch. Thank Celestia. Or, well…

Twilight used her magic and soon she had something to sip on. I wonder if they’ll be saying “Thank Twilight” soon. I hope not. That’s ridiculous.

And then she chuckled darkly and took a sip. It was ridiculous, but it was not the only ridiculous thing.

“It is strange to see a paired mute swan flying solo,” said a voice in her ear.

Twilight did not jump. She was a bit more dignified than that. Twilight was a princess and she was from a long line of mares with great gravity and poise, obviously, and it showed in her actions.

So instead she whirled around so quickly that only her great magic kept her punch from flying in a grand soiling arc, because jumping when startled was a waste of time and Twilight Sparkle was decidedly opposed to wasting time.

She found a dark blue batpony in a black dress. Her eyes flashed in the way that only the most dangerous of the night’s mares could through a thick, concealing mask. The mask did not cover her lower face, however, and her lips curled up into a slightly predatory smile.

Twilight took a deep breath and then relaxed. “Hello… Hekata.”

“Oh, you remembered! And on the first try, really.” The mare named “Hekata” bowed. “I am quite pleased, Princess Twilight. It took Celestia several times before she could say it naturally. You’ve already mastered saying it as if I were merely an acquaintance you’d half-forgotten. Good.”

Without missing a beat, Twilight began to weave a small sound-cancelling spell. Yet another thing that had been inconstant: once, the idea of hiding her conversations would have seemed dishonest or dubious, but now it was normal. Sometimes, a pony needed to talk in peace. Not all privacy was an exercise in deception. In fact, she had found through experience that almost none of it was. And with that one inconstancy, another: a year ago, Luna coming to her in disguise would have been marvelous at best or unsettling at worst (for a pony who can wear one disguise may wear them all) but now it was simply mildly amusing.

“I’ve never understood why you do that,” Twilight said. “I mean, I can guess--I know why I would do it, but you?”

“Do you think we are so dissimilar, Twilight Sparkle?” Hekata asked and then hummed. “I was walking. Wouldst thou walk with us, Hekata and Luna?” She grinned impishly. “I grow weary of my hidden mingling, but cannot exactly resume my regality in this press.”

“So I’m accompanying you to the bathroom? I guess some things never change.”

“Cry your pardon?”

“It’s nothing,” Twilight said, and gestured with her head. The two mares walked towards the courtyard, lit by torches. “Did you find anything interesting? Useful? I’m still not convinced of how useful Hekata is, at least in the way you’ve described.”

“I confess that Moonrise is a bit more useful. As my, ah, ‘attendant’, she is often sought after. A voracious, endless gossip, she is. Selena D’Trinitaire, from Prance’s verdant countryside, she is more useful for aggressive fact finding. Hekata I pick for my own reasons.”

Twilight looked ahead, humming thoughtfully. “What are those? If it’s alright to ask, of course.”

They passed the torches, casting their light like tiny suns. Vague shadows of the gardens lingered beyond the light, like suggestions. Twilight knew the grounds well enough to steer them for a secluded enough place where Luna could change her visage safely.

“She was my sister. Our sister, long ago.” Luna said, and would say nothing more on it. “How fare you and your most worshipful lady?”

Another thing which changed, bit by bit. Once, she had known precious little about the past beyond a certain point. Now, she was blessed with priceless glimpses into the ancient time before Equestria. They were intoxicating, frankly.

“Rarity and I?” Twilight smiled almost without realizing it. “We’re doing wonderfully. I’ve been studying her art, you know. I didn’t think it would really ‘be my thing’ but it has. I’ve enjoyed the history, the practical parts, all of it. It’s been nice to learn about what makes her tick.”

“That sounds excellent. Where is she?”

Twilight shrugged. “I’m not sure, though I’ll see her again in a few moments. She was talking to… I think Fancypants? You know, I’m not sure. But I figured she was going to be busy for a while so I took a little walk to stretch my legs. It’s nice to be on your hooves. Easier to think, sometimes.”

Hekata seemed to accept this. She nodded thoughtfully. “And do you have much to think on?”

Twilight chuckled. “Bad question. I always have something to think about! I have half a dozen letters to answer when we get back to Ponyville. Cadance wanted my help getting up to speed with Equestrian land reforms since the Schism… Shining wrote me just to chat a bit. I think he feels bad about falling off the face of the earth, as he should! Hm… I have a few from the mayor of Manehattan wanting me to move up there, and some minor things about the new castle. So I always have something to do. Not to mention that my scholarship continues.”

“A busy mind is a mind well-nurtured, it seems.”

“Of course!” Twilight grinned.

They left the few ponies enjoying the night air behind. Twilight knew these gardens well--the grounds had been her playground as a foal, had they not? How many hundreds of times had she played hide and seek here with Spike? Or even Celestia, for that matter, when her teacher could spare the time for her favorite student? And yet… She paused, and realized that she did not recognize what was around her.

“Hm. You seem to have been brought up short.” Hekata skipped ahead, her tufted ears waggling in a cheeky manner. “Has some great genius come upon you? Or are you simply lost?”

“I don’t remember this turn,” Twilight said, blinking. She shook her head with a rueful smile. “Heh. I remember now, Celestia mentioned they had been doing some work out here when we had tea. I guess it’s different now.”

They continued until Twilight found a suitably large bush and had cast a quick detection spell. When the coast was clear, Luna became herself again, tall and regal. The slightly predatory grin remained, as did the eyes that flashed or hardened with mercurial swiftness.

“How long has it been since you and Rarity became lovers?” she asked, stretching. “Ah, it is good to be a proper height again!”

“Proper? I still feel weird about being abnormally tall, and I only grew a little bit. Rarity and I?” Twilight felt her face burn. Lovers was a bit on the nose, wasn’t it? A little… well, archaic, yes, but mostly it brought to mind something more carnal than marefriends or dating did. “Eight months,” she replied.

Luna hummed. Twilight wondered how she managed to change her form and yet keep different dresses for different forms perfectly intact. It was a mystery, but one she would have the secret of eventually. One day. “An eternity for a young mare in love,” Luna said, flashing her teeth in a grin. “Shall we proceed back? I confess, mostly I wished to speak to you and you were quite easy to abscond with. It has been far too long.”

“Agreed. I’m sorry I have been so slow with letters. I have far too many these days.”

“You are forgiven. Now, tell me, Rarity. Or, rather--anything that is on your mind. I pray you, Twilight of Ponyville, bore me not for already this event has bored me half to tears. It is a rather sore point of contention between my sister and me that she finally drove the fine art of dueling into the shadows of illegality. A fine duel somewhere in the grounds can liven up any party.”

“Death isn’t exactly lively,” Twilight countered.

Luna shrugged. “Ah, but before that point, what excitement! And, to be frank, it helped to weed out the worse sort from our ranks, one way or another. Take yon Blueblood, for instance… You cannot tell me that a nice thrashing would not do wonders for his temperment.”

Twilight smirked as they walked back towards the torchlights. “That’s awful.”

“Life is, occasionally.”

“Speaking of life, here is a postulate for you. As we do in letters sometimes. I have been thinking recently about something your sister said, about a mare and a river. My recent wonderings have left me with a new axiom to try out on you: nothing is constant.”

“A mare and a river… hm.” Luna chuckled. “Let me guess: Celestia pronounced this with an air of gravity and mystery, looking off into the distance perhaps, as if grasping from the aether some pearl of long-off wisdom.”

Twilight laughed. “Yes, actually.”

“Of course. We are rather ancient, and our memories are wonderful… considering. It is true that sometimes things drift into our minds from beyond the Far Shore, perhaps tiny fragments of worlds singing in the great Field of Arbol…” She shook her head. “But! That particular bit is not some aetheric wisdom. It’s Mareclitus.”

Twilight blinked. “What? I thought we had lost all of… oh. Right. Longevity.”

Luna giggled, which was a strange thing for its regularity. “Yes. ‘Longevity’. We met him once, in Valon. We were wandering adventurers then, and ponies knew us and our legend, and this strange old stallion was thoroughly unimpressed! We introduced ourselves, and he simply wished for us to get out of his light!” Twilight glanced over and happened to catch her face twisting in a momentary confusion. “No, no that was the other fellow. The dog-botherer. Bah. Regardless, we did meet Mareclitus and he was a rather surly sort of fellow. I believe the misfortune of his name was to blame.”

“Perhaps. What do you think of it, as an axiom?”

This was an old game. One of them would advance a statement, and the other would attempt to bludgeon it and whatever was left they marveled at. It was a great way to deal with stress, honestly.

“Preposterous,” Luna said, as was her role. “Nothing is constant? Then how do you manage to fit the sun and earth into such a philosophy?”

The sounds of the party grew louder. Twilight did not greet them with dread so much as she… well. Perhaps she did dread the throng. But it wasn’t a strong feeling. Rarity was there. Somewhere.

“Well, the sun is moving,” she began, carefully. “And the earth is in a constant state of flux. Mountains and rocks erode, rivers widen, the borders of forests retreat and advance. Things change all the time. So even though the earth is always here, it is always changing. Everything changes, and everything flows.”

She ended this with a little note of triumph. She had been working on this one awhile.

“Hm, perhaps, perhaps. I can also say that culture changes. I cannot deny that. A riposte: do ponies change?”

“Of course,” Twilight said.

“I wonder, myself,” Luna replied. They walked past a few masked revelers who bowed to them. Luna did not acknowledge them, but Twilight did. She caught a strange look shining in Luna’s eyes in the half-light.

“I think I’ve changed. Besides the obvious,” she added, fluttering her wings a little. What a strange thing, wings.

“Yes, you are physically different. But are you a different pony? If a thing’s outside changes, does it change?”

“Ugh, I know where you’re going.”

“Everything goes back to the beginning. The ship of Ponesus is a classic,” Luna said with mock indignation. “You should respect your elders.”

“I do! Heh. I guess it doesn’t necessarily change if you change the outside. Maybe. I’m not sure on that one. And anyway, painting something or replacing a part of a ship isn’t the same as changing a pony physically.”

And now they were inside again. The strings swelled all around them as a new piece began. It reminded Twilight instantly of a dozen such balls since her ascension a year ago. How many had Rarity attended with her? All of them, actually. Even before Twilight had, haltingly and nervously confessed her feelings, Rarity had been insistent that she be there for every single event. Twilight did not need a coach, Twilight had said, flustered. But she did need a friend, Rarity had always responded with a firm but warm voice.

“What about friendships? Relationships? Are they ever changing?”

“I suppose.” Twilight’s eyes began to search the crowd for… well, she wasn’t sure. She supposed for Rarity, because that was the easiest answer. Or perhaps for Celestia. “Actually… that’s what I’ve been thinking about.”

“Pray continue.”

“Well, Celestia and I aren’t exactly student and teacher anymore, not like we used to be. I don’t call her princess anymore, for one. She insisted. And… I still write her, but not like I used to. I write normal letters now, or businessy sorts of letters, not really friendship reports or assignments.”

“And do you not miss the old bond?”

“Of course. I loved being her student.” Twilight frowned. It was true. There had been a great sense of loss involved in graduating. She had not spoken of it so freely before, though. Luna had a way of worming past any defenses.

Fancypants passed, Fluer at his side, obvious even with masks. They bowed and Twilight smiled and bowed back. “I hope that you’re having a lovely evening,” she said.

“Of course, Your Highness,” Fancypants said.

“It was so lovely to see Rarity again, non?” Fleur remarked, smiling at her husband.

“Quite. Also good for my pocketbook,” he added with a chuckle. “I must say that she is a delightful partner in business. I’ve never met a pony more eager to plot.”

“That does sound like her,” Twilight said. “Have you seen her?”

“Non, not for some time… curious. I had thought she would be with you, Princess,” Fleur said, her light sing-song momentarily discordant with a low note of confusion.

“We got separated,” Twilight said lamely.

“Ah, is no matter. I am sure you shall be finding her very soon. Come, husband, we cannot hold up two princesses! Shoo, shoo,” she said, and Fancypants laughed as he bid goodbye.

“They are almost sickeningly in love,” Luna said, more loudly than Twilight had anticipated. She blinked, surprised, until she noticed the slight pull on the air. Ah. Dampening charm.

She giggled. “Of course! Fancypants is a true romantic of the old style. Agrarian to a fault, in all the ways that don’t actually involve working himself. Oh, that’s mean, probably. I envy them.”

“Do you think that too changes, young Sparkle?”

Twilight blinked. “I suppose I’ve committed myself to arguing it does, old one.”

“Hm. And what do you think of that prospect? As you search out your lover from among the crowd, picking one delicate horn out from a sea of them.”

“She’s more likely to find me… and I don’t know. I guess the idea makes me unhappy. I know where you’re going. They might fall out of love, if they could fall into it. Or their relationship could grow stale, or even hostile. One of them could die or be paralyzed…” She sighed. “Those are all change.”

“Do you think that it will happen?”

“Well, the inevitable ones like dying or sickness, sure. But… I want to say that no, I don’t think they would fall out of love. Fancypants is devoted and Fleur is just crazy about him. They act like ponies half their age sometimes! So no, I really can’t feel like it even as I know intellectually that it is possible.”

“And you? What of your own?”

That brought her up short.

Twilight had long noted that Luna was skilled with the invasive question at the lowest point of a conversation. Of course she was--a warrior, yes, but above all she had once been a fencer. Her bemoaning of Celestia’s banning of organized dueling had been personal more than formal.

“I had considered it, yes,” she said in a small voice.

She looked away. Luna was silent for a moment. The dampened air around them seemed pregnant with the meaning there.

“Forgive me. I believe I have acted rashly, and in error,” Luna said slowly. “I mistook the turn of our conversation. You have been thinking of that, then. I had wondered, but... “

Twilight looked up.

“I’m surprised it wasn’t obvious. I mean, beyond everything, I’m not with her tonight, am I?”

“One need not be attached at the hip to be, ah, ‘with’ somepony,” Luna countered swiftly.

“Yes, but I’m not blind. I know that we aren’t always… Rarity thrives on interaction and other ponies. She revels in all of this. Me? I don’t dislike others. I can do my duty, even if that duty is to attend masques and balls. Sometimes I even enjoy my duty. I like to be alone, but I hate to be lonely.”

“That is a cold word.”

“Yes, I know. I was thinking, before I encountered you, about how things change.” Twilight weaved a second spell in between the threads of Luna’s sound-dampening. This one made them harder to ascertain to a casual eye. It would make two mares talking in murmurs a bit less conspicuous. “I’ve changed… Life has changed… Rarity has changed. Everything changes. And a lot of the time, it’s a wonderful change. But I worry.”

“Has there been some cause to worry?”

Twilight shook her head. “That’s the damndest part of it. No, not at all. I’m sorry I’ve dragged my own anxieties into our game.”

“Not at all. I am not pleased, per se, but I am grateful that your anxieties are not your own to bear and that I might take up my corner of that weight.”

“It’s very possible that she and I will change. The ‘Us’ will change. And change can mean a lot of things, and it’s just sort of frightening. Change can mean going deeper, being... “ She sighed and massaged her temples with eyes squeezed shut. “It can mean breaking up. It can mean not being friends anymore or it could mean the exact opposite. I could get married,” she added, her voice strained. “All of those options are equally frightening. I’ve been thinking about it all night. Change change change. Nothing is constant.”

“Aye. Twilight… again, my pardon, I believe I have stirred up a great storm where I did not intend to. I had meant to rib you, as the ponies of this age say, and nothing more. We should speak of this at length, I think. Or, better still, I believe it may be good to write to your sister-in-law, who loves you well.”

“That’s… one of the letters sitting in my desk at home,” Twilight said and let out a low, hissing sigh. “Yeah. I’ve… been procrastinating on it. It’s hard not to sound a little crazy paranoid about it. I’m not sure ponies really think about just how terrifying having choices is, Luna. You can choose anything, in reason. Or out of it! You can walk up to someone and ask them out--that’s not mundane. Just talking to ponies is so heavy. Every connection is a whole world, and…”

“And Rarity is a wonderful pony, and you love her, and you worry.”

“Yes.”

“That is not so unnatural.”

“Eh.” She waved a hoof. “Don’t be shy about it. It’s one thing to be a little nervous and it’s another thing to be a little too aware of the enormity of the tiniest basic interactions. There are some days where I feel so watched and awkward and unsure that I just want to go hide in bed forever, and even then I also feel so happy when I’m with her. It’s invasive, and it’s wonderful. The more I know her, the more she knows me. The more I…”

It was at that moment that Twilight heard a beautiful, familiar voice.

“Oh, Twilight! Yoohoo! Darling, there you are!”

Twilight turned, her face blossoming into an automatic smile that was sincere and warm. “Rarity!”

“Of course, could it be any other? Even with this mask, I am quite distinctive.” Rarity did not lie. Her dress was beyond reproach, sparkling and perfect, the same color as her entrancing eyes. Her mane was coiffed perfectly, each intricate curl giving the lying impression of fragility and a casual toss where Twilight knew each had been carefully planned. Her necklace and hooflets were brightest argent silver, gleaming like the Milky Way. In short, Twilight thought she was stunning and wished she could say so in a way that was not cliche.

“It’s the mane,” Twilight said, instead. “I’d recognize that shade anywhere.”

“Oh, only? Bah, my grace is the true giveaway.” Rarity giggled. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m in high spirits.”

She bowed to Princess Luna. “Your Highness, it is good to see you. It has been a month at least. I know Twilight has sorely regretted her business, if only for the lack of chance to write.”

“As she’s said,” Luna said, and Twilight marveled at her quick grace. To go from such a conversation to such a casual smile… She made a note to learn what she could.

Rarity turned back to Twilight, her smile like a heady draught of wine. “Twilight, love, I was looking everywhere. Where did you get off to?”

“I--”

“She was with me. I borrowed her for a moment.” Luna bowed. “I beg your pardon.”

“Oh, it’s nothing ‘t all. I found her, didn’t I?” Rarity stepped forward and nuzzled Twilight, who would have burned with the delicious embarassment of such a thing in public--look, see, this is us!--were she not utterly flummoxed by the sharp turn of events.

“Yeah. You found me,” Twilight said.

“Did the party become too much, hm? I do know you tend to get a little overwhelmed when there’s not something official to do,” Rarity said. “If you’d like, we could find some place to relax. I could have some tea brought up to a balcony, or perhaps a glass of wine, hm?”

Twilight swallowed. “No. No, I’m fine.”

Rarity tilted her head, and Twilight knew that she had been caught with her walls broken. Rarity saw something in her eyes that had not been there when they had parted. Rarity’s eyes invaded her as her presence had crashed in upon the normality and the rhythm--chaotic, yes, but rhythm--of Twilight’s life. She felt pressed upon… and found that she wanted it to continue even as it made butterflies wing furiously their flights in her chest. Yes, let it continue. To be known even as she knew.

“Darling, I--”

“Rarity, I think I’ve been absent long enough,” Twilight said, a little breathlessly. “Can we dance?”

Rarity blinked. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Blinked again. “Why… why, of course! I would have offered, but I know that you were so embarassed after--”

“I think your lessons helped,” Twilight said, solemnly.

“Perhaps…” Rarity pulled her closer and spoke softly in her ear. “Love, what is the matter? You need not dance to please me! I’m simply glad to have found you again. Was your discussion of an upsetting manner?”

“N-no. I just... “ Twilight bit her lip, looking directly ahead, past Rarity’s perfect mane. “No, I just… I want to dance. With you. I missed you,” she added, weakly.

Rarity pulled back and blinked.

“Well, if that is so…”

And then before she could even say goodbye, Twilight found herself whisked away. Luna was far behind. The crowd faded into nothing. There was her, and there was Rarity, and there were the strings that made an enduring, enfolding Song. There was nothing else.

Her steps were awkward. Her heart beat an erratic march in her breast, and yet.. and yet Twilight found that her nervousness after her last embarrassment rose up and immediately was slain. Here she was, and here was Rarity, and her anxiety became something much sweeter. She was once again that Twilight Sparkle who made a fool of herself and was not ashamed.

They waltzed, and Twilight thought: Everything flows. Was this not a picture? Every step carried her away to somewhere else, and even when she returned to a spot already traveled, it was in a different way, at a different facing, with a different feeling.

She pressed close to Rarity.

“Oh wow… I’m sorry I didn’t want to, before,” she said, her voice breathy.

“I’m so glad you finally did. Though you need not push yourself on my account, darling. And I don’t mind leading, either. One of us must,” she added, giggling. Twilight joined her. “Twilight, as happy as I am to dance with you… are you alright?”

Twilight, bold with the shaky energy of love, kissed her lightly. “Yes.”

They danced off into the swirling crowd of revelers, all spinning, all flowing.

Afterwards, on the balcony. The night was cold, the breeze light, the stars beautiful. Rarity reclined on their loveseat, gazing out over High Canterlot.

Twilight stood in the room, cast in shadow, and watched Rarity in the light.

She approached. “Hey,” she said, softly. Almost timidly.

“Hello,” Rarity said, smiling up at her. Her eyes invited.

Twilight sat beside her, in the curve of her body, and it felt nice. It felt like potential, but also like… like it was awkward. Because it was sort of awkward.

The wonderful thing about Rarity, she reflected, was in that she never pointed this out. “I’m sorry I was weird before.”

“Don’t be. I’ve been a little concerned, though I must say, your dancing did a bit to put my heart at ease. That was invigorating! There’s something special about dancing, something both primal and restrained, something… natural, and yet gilded in artifice. Much like this wine,” she said, gesturing to the cup she held in her telekinetic pull. “A natural process that ponies have learned through careful art to bend just so, fulfilling both its end and ours.”

“You’re poetic tonight,” Twilight said.

“I am and have been in high spirits.”

“Made a deal with Fancypants?” Twilight asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yes, if you must be crass about it.” Rarity stuck her tongue out, which only just managed not to seem unladylike coming from her. “But it was just delightful to see him and Fleur again, and so many others. I do love the music at the balls and parties of Canterlot’s upper crust. And I was able to dance with the prettiest mare in the room, of course.”

Twilight looked down, smiling. “I didn’t see you dancing with Fleur.”

She imagined Rarity rolling her eyes dramatically. “Why, you know whom I meant, you foolish mare…” And that was when she felt the kiss on her neck and she shivered at the warm spark that went down her back.

“I was out thinking,” Twilight said, apropos of nothing. “I was thinking about… how things change. How much has changed since I first came to Ponyville.”

Rarity was draped around her. Twilight was warm even in the depth of night.

“Much has changed, you’re quite right.”

“Luna and I were playing Postulates. Did I tell you about that? The thing we do?”

“The game in letters you invented after Nightmare Night?”

“Yes, that one.”

“I recall it. And what was your thrust this time, Twilight?”

“Nothing is constant. Everything changes. It… flows,” she added.

“Hm. A curious one.”

“I guess. I think it might really be true. Places change, days change… ponies change.”

Rarity pulled her chin gently, and then Twilight was looking right into her deep, beautiful eyes. How like lighthouses they were in a storm. How like the crackling of bonfires for a waiting damned. Both and neither. They were just eyes, beautiful ones, and Rarity just a pony--neither a saving grace or a damning trap.

Twilight breathed in and held the air by force of will. She just… studied. Waited.

“Darling, I will say this… delicately. Are you worried about us? I sense that is where this is going.”

Twilight cringed. She shook her head.

“Our friends? The Princesses?”

Twilight let out her breath. Her heart beat in her chest. She found she was scared. No, nervous. She wanted to pace. “No, no. It’s… I think too much?”

“Twilight.”

“I worry about me. And you. And… I’m so happy, and sometimes I worry that…” She could almost feel her skin crawling. She did not like to be watched with such searching looks. “I’m sorry.”

“Twilight… don’t be. Please don’t be. Take your time. I’m not upset. I’m a little concerned, of course.”

“I like to be alone, but I don’t want to be lonely. It’s hard for me to… to share myself,” she said. “It doesn’t seem so because of Spike, probably, but it wasn’t the same because he’s basically family. He is family, if not by blood. So it wasn’t the same. And I want to be with you, but it just makes me anxious and…”

“I… I had no…”

Twilight sighed. She leaned against Rarity, who stiffened and then timidly embraced her. “It’s hard to say, I guess. I just keep thinking about how everything always changes.”

“You know, Twilight, that change need not be destruction,” Rarity said after a moment.

Twilight hummed.

Rarity continued: “After all, one could say that spring dies when the summer comes. But it comes ‘round again. My parents are certainly not young anymore. But they love each other all the same. Their love changed with them, and was not broken. Some are,” she said, and her voice faltered but for a moment. Yet it faltered. “But they don’t have to,” she finished.

“I know,” Twilight said.

“Have… Have I done something amiss?”

“Never,” Twilight said with more faith than she had said most things in her life.

“You are kind,” Rarity murmured in her ear. She stroked Twilight’s mane.

“I love you,” Twilight said. She had always been shy about saying it. To say, “I love you” was a heavy thing. It was a final sort of thing. She imagined that if words were pictures that this picture would be of locking a door--or of holding it open forever, ripping it off the hinges so that the inside was revealed forever. Perhaps. Maybe.

“I love you too, Twilight,” Rarity said in her ear. “You know this, yes? I do hope so…”

“I do,” Twilight said. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no need to be sorry. You have been honest and revealed a very confusing sort of feeling. If my ability to comprehend is lacking, it is I who should apologize.”

“Ever generous.”

“I try.” Rarity stroking her mane. Twilight felt warm.

“I’m glad I danced.” A pause. “That’s something new. I don’t dance at these anymore, not since the Gala.”

“Things change,” Rarity said softly, like an echo in a cave.

“I guess they do,” Twilight said, and smiled. She closed her eyes and enjoyed Rarity and the cold night with beautiful stars, though she did not see them. For she knew they were there, shining.

Perhaps they too changed.

Author's Note

Dedicated to Nothing is Constant, our long talks, and Axiom who fell in the unflinching bravery in an unreal city, may he be remembered