Forever and Always

Rarity

It was a very long day, but I am happy to say that I finished the work for Sapphire Shores ahead of schedule. It’s tempting to tease myself with the idea of allowing myself to sleep late tomorrow, a lady does need to treat herself from time to time after all. Unfortunately, as garments for Sapphire tend to do, I find myself in the uncomfortable position of trying to fall asleep knowing that I’ve utilized every last gem in the shop on one garment or the other. So, I shall be up with Celestia and the sun. I prefer to get my little excursions out of the way first thing in the morning, so that I can complete my beauty regimen and have breakfast (as well as the occasional morning nap) prior to opening the shop.

Rainbow Dash is pretending to sleep as I slip under the covers and settle into the infinite softness of our bed. I surprised her with the cloud bed for her birthday, which is was about a six weeks after that first date. She’d spent nearly every night with me at the boutique. It was wonderful, but I knew she wasn’t sleeping well- no matter how I tried to wear her out (and believe me I tried). I had spared no expense on the bed I had, but it simply didn’t compare to her cloud bed.

Naturally, there had been a party at Sugarcube Corner for Rainbow’s birthday. Nothing compared to the anniversary/birthday bash that Pinkie Pie and Cheese Sandwich arranged, but it was a delightful little soiree with all of our friends. We’d immediately acknowledged that we were dating upon our return from Canterlot that first weekend, or we had planned to, but the gossip columns beat us to it. Pinkie Pie assaulted us with congratulatory confetti before we even got off the train.

We did make a concentrated effort not to be overly affectionate in front of our friends for a variety of reasons. First and foremost, it was because Rainbow Dash was uncomfortable being around our friends sans her mask of bravado; a mask that she rarely maintained when we were alone. The differences were subtle, but important. She slowed down when we were together and gave herself time and permission to be thoughtful. The self validating ego that has always been an essential quality of the Rainbow Dash enigma simply disappeared when we were on our own. She could be quite the pony pleaser; even a little needy. From time to time in those early months of our relationship, she seemed simply starved for acceptance and validation- both of which I was more than happy to provide in generous amounts.

At the party, she was her typical self. That is to say, she and Pinkie Pie were pranking everypony; there was a small iron pony competition between Rainbow and Applejack; and, of course, there was cider. I gave her two small gifts at the party. The first was the updated blazer reflecting the design adjustments I’d made in Canterlot. The second was a Daring Do board game that wasn’t due to be released yet, but that I’d managed to procure through a friend of a friend (it’s amazing what agreeing to design a lingerie set for a mare’s spouse will do).
Everypony was perfectly receptive and appropriately complimentary about the blazer. The game on the other hoof…..Well, I never could be certain which of my friends was most excited about it Rainbow, Twilight, or Pinkie Pie. Several rounds were played before everypony went home that night.

Rainbow was buzzed from the cider and perfectly exhausted when it came time to leave. So, I swept her up in a bit of magic and carried her home. It’s a bit of a walk from Sugarcube Corner to the Boutique, but it was late so very few ponies saw the famous Rainbow Dash being levitated along the street. Those that did see us seemed endeared by the whole scene. Rainbow was rattling on about how awesome everypony was, and how I was simply the most awesome marefriend in the history of marefriends. It was delightful to hear her being so happy. For my part, it was taking enormous effort to maintain the facade of indifference about her surprise.

The bed had been delivered and secured earlier that day. The pegasus stallions that delivered it gave me a brief lesson on its maintenance, and how to make sure it didn’t dissipate or flood my bedroom. Typically, pegasi don’t put sheets on their sleeping clouds. It only took a bit of research to learn that a bedding set for a cloud bed wasn’t unheard of, which was fabulous news for me. I have always been a sucker for satin sheets. A few minor adjustments and some simple enhancements were all it took. Now it was just waiting for her to slip in and have the first truly good night’s sleep in over a week.

While I knew she would be thrilled about having an even more comfortable place to sleep, for me the significance in the gift was in the symbolism. It was our bed. I had designed the pillows and sheets with her in mind, carefully stitching by hoof the outline of her cutie mark on the case for her favorite pillow.

There was a part of my mind that screamed at me: “You have only been together a few weeks! You can’t possibly believe that you will spend the rest of your life with Rainbow Dash!” That voice was small and easily dismissed. I knew before we left Canterlot that she was the one for me. We didn’t need to put it on display for everypony yet, or ever, if we didn’t want to; but we both knew. More importantly, we each knew that the other knew.

So, I repressed a squeal of excitement as I floated my love up the stairs of my home. Her eyes were closed in an “I’m replaying the awesomeness” kind of way that was simply adorable. It was the perfect setup for the surprise.

Once she was in position just a few inches above the bed, I released the magic that had been holding her and she plopped down. “Hey!” she said indignantly, her eyes popped open. Then, she looked around her and wiggled a bit on the bed. “Heeeeeeyyyy,” she crooned. “Did you…?”
My only reply was a giggle. She hadn’t taken it all in yet, and I wouldn’t speak until she had. The duvet cover was a dark, rich, royal blue. The stitch work was minimal, contemporary, and ivory. The pillows were ivory and stitched with our cutie marks in blue. I’d ordered a new bed frame as well. Mine was far too feminine for Rainbow to ever comfortably call hers. The new frame was a brushed nickel. It’s lines were sleek and beautiful. I’d chosen it because it was beautiful, and it reminded me of her in some way.

I watched her beautiful eyes drink it in. Her wings fluttered slightly making her bounce on the bed. Earlier in the day I’d worried that she’d feel an unwelcome sense of pressure as a result of the gift. I needn’t have. I had seen Rainbow Dash in some very happy moments, but there was an entirely new kind of joy in that moment.

She was home.

She hopped off the bed and swept me into the most delightful, spinning embrace. “You got me a cloud?” she asked. Then before I could answer her. “I mean….you got us a cloud?” I was startled by the emotion in her voice. “You got us a bed AND it’s a cloud?”

“Yes, darling. I know you haven’t been sleeping well on my bed, and since I expect we will be spending most -dare I say all?- our nights together for the rest of our lives, it seemed only sensible to get you a bed you can actually rest on. I hope you don't mind such a practical gift.”

I was teasing at the end, and anticipated some snarky comment in return. Instead she simply embraced me again and said, “It’s perfect Rares. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my darling. Welcome home.”

That memory almost always comes to my mind as I slip into my bed each night, but most especially on the nights when I come to bed to find my pegasus out of sorts about something. She loves sleep far too much to simply pretend it. Yet, here I am listening to her too even breaths, and feeling her trying to be entirely too still next to me. Not to mention that she has her back to me. Even when we’re arguing she falls asleep snuggled against me.

I should have had some coffee before coming to bed. This may take a while.

I reduce the distance between us, and run a gentle hoof down her spine between her wings. She tries to withhold a response to my touch, but fails. Her feathers ruffle slightly, and there’s the most subtle hitch to her breathing. Still, she is resisting; and that isn’t like her. With a light of my horn I lift her and slide her back against me. “Have I done something wrong?” I ask softly.

“Besides waking me up?”

“Are we really going to pretend that you were asleep, Rainbow Dash?” She sighs and relaxes. Her wings have been pinned to her sides, and now simply rest against her. She leans back into me, and I pull her closer.

“Please tell me what’s wrong, darling.” She doesn’t respond, but begins tracing flight patterns along my forelock. “Shall I guess?”

More silence.

“Would you prefer I leave the issue alone for now and we agree to talk about it tomorrow?” That’s the wingtip formation she’s drawing now; the variation the Wonderbolts used the night of our first date. “Very well, darling. It’s Fluttershy. I don’t know if it’s me as well, but we can agree to talk about it tomorrow.”

I use my horn to extinguish the last small lamp that had been burning. I hold her close and I kiss her neck, and I start to hum a lullaby. It was only a couple of months ago that she tried to tell me how much she enjoys it when I sing. Ever since I have made an effort to learn some new songs for her. I even asked Twilight to research pegasus lullabies for me. She hasn’t gotten back to me about it, but I imagine the Princess of Friendship has more important things to do. I finish the song, and allow myself to begin to drift off. That’s when I hear her take a deep breath, and I’m awake.

She turns so we are chest to chest and she buries her muzzle in my neck seeking refuge and comfort. Not for the first time, I almost wish I was a pegasus, so I could have a set of wings to wrap around her in addition to my legs; but I am a unicorn. So, magically I tuck the blankets around her. I open the window so she can feel the cool breeze in her mane, and smell the night sky.

“Thanks, Rare.”

I kiss her forehead in response. Then, I wait.

“It isn’t you,” she says finally. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until that moment when I was able to truly exhale as relief washed over me.

“We’re alright?” I ask.

She kisses my neck quickly. “Yeah, Rares. We’re good.”

“So, it is Fluttershy?”

“Yeah, I just…. I never had to try before, you know? She was just Fluttershy and it was easy. I mean, I know her. I thought I did anyway. And when we hang out, she’s still just….Shy, but it’s like….I don’t know.”

“You don’t trust her.” I say trying to be gentle.

“Of course I tru-” her response is a reflex and she knows it, which is why she cuts herself off mid-sentence. I’m proud of her for taking the moment to think about it before she replies again. “I trust Fluttershy,” she says carefully. “I mean, I trust her with my life. She’s my best friend.”

“But you don’t trust her with your heart?” My words are equal parts a statement of fact and a question I feel I already know the answer to.

“Maybe. Why is that?”

“What did I ever do to make you feel like I could be trusted with it?” I’m grateful that I can speak candidly with her. We’ve approached this question in conversation before, and she has always shied away from it, but now she’s running into the heart of it. I believe she needs the answers regardless of what happens with Fluttershy.

“I don’t know,” she whispers quietly. “I mean you were always...you. Like, you didn’t take my crap, but you didn’t make me feel like crap either. You always believed I could be better. Even if it was just little junk like not crashing into things when I land at Twilight’s.” I give a little snort at that. Months of attempts at persuasion finally convinced her to try and slow down just a bit, so Twilight and Spike weren’t constantly having to clean up after her. Twilight was so pleased with the result that she paid for one of my spa days, and simply wouldn’t let me say no. I feel Rainbow smile. “Yeah yeah. You were right about that,” she says. “Write it down in your journal.”

I kiss her head and run a hoof down her back. I won’t be distracted by playful banter. There’s an important matter at hoof, and she knows it.

“I don’t know how to explain the rest, Rarity. It’s like I woke up one day and it was just you. I kinda knew it even before Canterlot. Then you invited me to the Wonderbolts then, but then you said it wasn’t a date, and I was disappointed. But then, you made that stuff for me, and it was just so...me. You’d made awesome dresses and stuff for me, but…”

“Those were show pieces, with specific events in mind,” I supplied.

“Yeah. I don’t know. I don’t know the words for what happened.”

“It’s alright, darling. I was there, and I think I’m beginning to understand what you’re trying to say.”

“Yeah? Wanna explain it to me, because I don’t get it.” She sounds so frustrated.

Although we’ve never really talked about it, I know that we’ve both spent time wondering about it. We weren’t an obvious match, and then suddenly we were. There was something romantic and arbitrary about it that, especially early on, begged to not be questioned too deeply. As the months went by, our relationship leaned less and less on that inexplicable force, and simply stood on its own. So much so, that now I feel detached from the feeling all together. It was part of where we came from, but is not a part of what we are now.

Once, the words would have been difficult to piece together in a way Rainbow Dash could relate to, but now she's taken so many naps on a couch in the Boutique; she offered opinions on the Wonderbolt line; she actually asked a question about a sewing machine once. She loves me enough to be invested in me. Even though she couldn’t sew two scraps together if she tried (well, she probably could, but why would she), she knows enough about me and is enough of an artist in her own way to understand the only explanation I can think to give her.

“I had never designed a garment just for you, darling. There was always some event that you needed to fit into: the Gala, Twilight’s coronation, the wedding of Shining Armor and Princess Cadence. Those garments were each exercises in creating something that suited you, but was also appropriate for a given set of circumstances. “Your flight vest was an entirely different enterprise. It came to me after that first weekend, we spent just the two of us in Canterlot. Not our date, but-”

“The one where you played detective, and saved my rep?”

“That’s the one,” I say nuzzling her. “We returned home, and the image of that vest began. It took months to develop. I tried so many times to start it, but there was never a reason for it. So, I couldn’t justify it. I sketched the design. I researched it. I made several practice attempts at the new technique I wanted for the seams near your wings.” I let my hoof wander to those lovely appendages as I speak, and feel her fluff slightly at my touch.

“Then Fancy Pants offered me the tickets, and of course I said yes. I thought of simply giving you the tickets, but it felt like such an opportunity and we had such a good time together before. Plus, I now had the excuse I needed to create the piece that had been living in my mind for months, and I truly enjoyed crafting it for you. Yet, it was incomplete. You had been living in my mind’s eye for months. Completely sans conscious effort, I had been observing you. So, when the vest was finished it felt as though I had only designed for one small part of you. Yet, there was within me a deep urge to capture the whole. The blazer came together nicely, but it wasn’t what I needed at all to satisfy the urge.”

“So you made my shirt?” she sounded like an excited child.

“Yes darling. I’d never even attempted something like it before.”

“Really?”

“Of course. My focus has always been on high fashion, but most days, I’m little more than the Ponyville seamstress. You know that. Repairs and alterations have been the steady fuel of my business when inspiration was low or I simply couldn’t find a way to make a line competitive in a season.” A little snicker disrupts the thoughts flowing from my mouth. “Do you have something to say?” I ask peeking down at her raspberry eyes, which are filled with a mix of pride and laughter.

“Rares, it’s always weird to hear you be humble, especially about your clothes. It’s awesome to remember that if you charged local ponies half of what your dresses are actually worth, then you’d probably never have to worry about money. But you care more about bringing fashion to the masses.” She said the last words in an affected tone that I’m certain was supposed to mimic me in someway. “It’s one of the things I love about you,” she continued. “Lots of ponies think you’re all uppity and stuff- not that you can’t be. But really when you’re just being you: you’re the mare that would rather get by working hard and being the town seamstress than seeing somepony not get the dress they want because they can’t afford it.”

A few silent, joyful, well loved tears roll down my cheek and get lost in Rainbow’s mane. “Thank you, darling.”

“For sure,” she says quietly. There’s a brief pause before she speaks again, “You just get me Rares. The clothes were first thing that made me think that, but then you told me that you didn’t believe what other ponies said about me. You told me that knew, even if I looked, that I would never cheat. You knew that about me, even when I didn’t know it about myself. Plus…”

“Plus what?”

“Plus you’retotallywillingtobethebossinourrelationshipandthat’ssuperhot.” She spits the words out in one long embarrassed string that I can’t help but laugh at a little.

It is one of the surprising things about our dynamic, and one that few ponies even know about. In public, Rainbow is the gentlemare. She opens doors for me, and waits for me to sit down first. She has invested in developing some of these traits, because she knows it pleases me. On the surface, it may appear that she is the dominant partner- taking care of me in the way some romantic stallion might care for his lady fair. Yet, on the deeper levels it has often been the reverse. She is vulnerable in ways that nopony sees, and I protect her in everyway I can. She asks me for permission, even when she knows she doesn't need to simply because she finds a sense of security in my approval. On the occasions when she has been the more dominant, she was only truly comfortable in the role if I requested or approved.

I nip her ear, and then realize something that prompts a question: “Darling, you anticipated fulfilling the dominant role in your relationship with Fluttershy, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” she says with a heavy sigh.

“I think that’s perfectly reasonable, Rainbow Dash.” My lips brushing against her head as I say the quiet words.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Fluttershy is the perfect picture of a demure mare. Your relationship with her has always been as her protector. You have made many attempts to encourage her to be more confident and assertive over the years, and while she certainly has made progress she is still Fluttershy. Squeaking, hiding in the bushes, speaking in barely audible whispers from behind that delightfully gorgeous mane Fluttershy.”

“Exactly-”

“Any yet she has always been more than that.”

There was a long silence before she spoke. “Why didn’t you say something to me?”

“I didn’t realize you didn’t see it, darling. I’m sorry.”

“How did you see it?”

“The same way I came to see you darling. Thoughts of Fluttershy have lived in the recesses of my mind for years. There’s a folder downstairs with sketch after sketch for a line inspired by her. Pieces that even when she was modeling I didn’t dare actually make for her, because they revealed far too much about my own feelings for her. ”

“Can I see it?”

Yes. That is a good idea. Rainbow is a complicated pony. She comes to understand things in her own way. Perhaps seeing the complexity I see in Fluttershy can communicate something I don’t have the words for, and I had absolutely nothing to hide from Rainbow. She is well aware of my feelings for Fluttershy. She always had been.

“Of course. Tomorrow?”

She considers for a moment. Then her body shifts and her tail twitches, and she’s on top of me. “Yeah, tomorrow,” she says with a roguish grin before she kisses me. It’s tempting to make her acknowledge that she’s using sex as a method of avoidance, but there’s really no point. A distraction is what she needs, and it’s what we both want. The life of a good marefriend is so difficult sometimes.