Twilight waved Starlight and Spike on their way, then shut all the doors and windows of her castle. At last she was alone. With a quiet hum and a smile she trotted along the hallway. She had been looking forward to this afternoon for weeks, and now it was finally here. All that remained was to follow the instructions she had memorized.
The perfect date requires the perfect tableware. Twilight took a porcelain tea set from the dining room. The greatest ceramicists had spent years creating it, using the most delicate of porcelain. Renowned pre-classical artists had spent countless nights adorning the smooth surface with intricate designs of golden leaf. Seven generations of nobles had treasured it, passing it down from parent to child until it had made its way to Twilight herself—a gift from her mother to mark her coming of age.
With the utmost care, Twilight brushed the few specks of dust off the cups and saucers, then gently placed them on each side of the table.
The perfect date requires the perfect beverage. Twilight took the rarest of tea leaves from the kitchen. The best tea growers of Saddle Arabia had toiled for generations growing and selecting the finest crops, until they created a melange of taste that could rival the heavens themselves. The Prince of Saddle Arabia had given a pouch of those leaves to Twilight during her third diplomatic mission there in an attempt to receive her hoof in marriage. She had politely declined, yet was asked to keep the gift as a sign of their friendship.
Twilight placed five leaves at the bottom of the teapot, then filled the rest with steaming water. Taking a whiff of the faint aroma, she smiled, reminiscing for a few moments before putting the lid back on.
Only the perfect atmosphere would suffice. Twilight took the music box from the her bedroom table. Seven gryphon craftsman had spent months building it from the purest of metals, based on designs Twilight had found in the Royal Canterlot Library. Each detail had been crafted to perfection, capable of producing a melody rivaling the rays of Celestia's sun. Classical gryphon poets had written odes about the music box, created as a gift from King Grover to his wife. It was said that never before had a tune of such unsurpassed beauty graced the land of mortal beings, nor would it ever again.
Twilight placed the music box gently in the center of the table. She wound its mechanism with a silver key, then removed the latch from its lid, leaving the melody ready for the perfect moment to fill the room with its sounds.
The amount of sweetness must be perfect. Twilight placed the finest lumps of pink sugar in the sugar container. Each was made of rose petal syrup, bringing the perfect aroma of gentle sweetness to enhance the tea, yet without overwhelming the palate. An entire town of earth ponies had spent generations growing the flawless field of roses. Only the best petals were deemed worthy for the rose press, then sent by the wagonload to produce a single vial of rose oil. The thick liquid was then twice distilled under the strictest of care to create a spoonful of pink sugar.
Twilight placed the sugar container on the far side of the table, precisely two and a half hooves from the tea cup. She then placed a pair of silver serving tongs beside it.
The amount of softness must be perfect. Twilight took the finest cushions from the guest room. Each cushion had a core of the softest clouds, custom built in Cloudsdale’s weather factory. A host of experts had meticulously observed the process ensuring it met the exact specifications the Princess had given them. The case of each cushion was made of the finest spider silk dyed in a shade of soft purple. The most skilled silk farmers had spent years collecting the magic infused strands, transforming them into a fabric smooth as the wind itself.
Twilight placed a cushion on either side of the table. Straightening the slightest of wrinkles, she gently passed a hoof over their surface, daydreaming for a few minutes.
The scenery must be breathtakingly ideal. Twilight took the finest tapestry from her attic—a perfect depiction of sunrise given to her by Princess Celestia herself. A school of master weavers from the pre-classical era had worked for decades capturing the beauty of the rising sun on cloth. Unicorn magicians had spent morning after morning, gathering the suitable rays of light and enchanting them into threads. Each thread contained the strength and softness of the morning, the hope and joy, stronger than the first caress of a true love's kiss.
Twilight hung it on the distant wall. Its light filled the room like a small sun, covering everything with its soft embrace. She stretched at the rays' gentle warmth, her mouth opening in a slight yawn.
The perfume must be perfection itself. Twilight took the finest incense from the parlor. Zebracan perfume makers had spent decades gathering exotic wood and tree sap to create the absolute bouquet of aromas fit for deities. Shamans had used it to clear their minds and heighten their senses as they meditated upon the questions of the universe. Zecora herself only used it on special occasions, yet had parted with some in thanks to Twilight for saving her life.
Twilight placed the bowl of incense on a small table near the wall and lit it with her magic. An almost invisible river of smoke trickled into the air.
The perfect date requires the perfect present. Twilight took the most magnificent dragon gem necklace from her jewelry box. Thousands of years were necessary for the purple gemstone to form and age to perfection. Two generations of dragons had guarded it jealously, keeping it at the very center of their hoard. Dragon Lord Ember had brought it to Twilight at the first dragon-pony summit, as a mark of the friendship between their peoples, and as a personal token of gratitude for the help she had received becoming Dragon Lord.
Twilight placed the necklace on one side of the table next to the teacup. Rays of light bounced off its polished surface, obtaining a deep purple hue.
Smiling at her accomplishment, Twilight took a step back, casting one final critical eye at the arrangement. Everything was set to perfection—nothing out of place, nothing left to chance. The only thing missing was—
The sound of hooves knocking on wood echoed through the corridors. Twilight's ears perked up. She made a quick trot round the table and then, adjusting the position of the sugar container one final time, teleported to the castle entrance. Her legs trembled slightly. Twilight took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and then exhaled loudly as she opened the door.
"Hello, Rarity." Her eyes beamed with the strength of a dozen suns. "I'm so glad you're here."
The perfect date requires the perfect mare.
