Rarity hummed a tune over the swish and scratch of her needles pulling the last golden threads of embroidery into place. She let go of the floating white fabric in her grasp, and the hemline fell perfectly into place, stopping just shy of the floor. Few things satisfied her like perfected measurements, but seeing the culmination of all her efforts was certainly one of them. “Your Highness, I simply cannot tell you what a dream this is for me.”
“Quite a stroke of luck indeed,” Princess Luna said, staring straight ahead, motionless as instructed. “I almost thought my sister was pulling my leg when she told me of the... er, incident with my dress for this evening. It is fortunate you were in town today. I was sure I was asking too much from you.”
Rarity glanced at the heap of shredded fabric in the corner of the Princess’ chambers. She shuddered. “Yes, well, creating a dress from scratch is a bit of a challenge with a time limit, but some chances don’t come along twice.” Her eyes traced the lines of the new dress, from the train mere centimeters from ground to the sharp climb up her model’s flanks to reveal those long, deep blue legs to the world. Practically flaunting them when every millimeter of their shape and curves were contrasted with the bright background of the material, but such an exquisite feature would be a crime not to showcase. “I believe we’re finished here. What do you think?”
Luna rocked her hips and shoulders for a moment, and took a few steps before turning back around. “It’s certainly comfortable enough, but are you sure the color is appropriate? This is merely a ball, not my wedding.”
Scoffing, Rarity motioned for her to turn to the mirror. “Have you seen yourself yet, Your Highness? Please tell me one instance a picture such as yourself would be inappropriate.”
“It’s just that—” Luna turned, and much to Rarity’s satisfaction, the eyes of her reflection widened. “Well...” She lifted a foreleg clad in white stockings, and the blue hairs of her shoulder rippled with the motion, highlighted for both of them to see. Luna hummed to herself and turned to another pose. “It’s just... I’ve not seen many ponies wear so much white before.”
“If I may say, not many ponies can wear so much.” Rarity stepped beside her, a string of diamonds trailing behind her in a spell. She lifted one of her hooves in front of the dress to illustrate the point. “We can’t all have as lovely a shade for our coats as you, thus the two colors aren’t able to ‘pop,’ as it were.” Perhaps one last, little push. “Not a mare in Canterlot—not I, not Fleur de Lis, not even Celestia herself—could match you in that same dress, Your Highness.”
A mischievous grin split Luna’s face. “I am convinced. You’ve done me more of a service than I could have hoped for.”
“Not at all, Your Highness, not at all,” Rarity said, waving the thanks away. She was hardly the only one providing a service after all. One of the Royal Sisters themselves had come to her, and her alone, to solve a fashion emergency at a Canterlot ball. She’d dreamed of the moment ever since she stitched together her first hoofcloth, and now she was almost there, so close to being finished.
She held her breath for every single inch the diamonds levitated up Luna’s mane. Rarity had always wondered what it might feel like for her magic to brush against that ever-flowing snapshot of the night, but such childlike curiosity paled to the magnitude of this moment. Every diamond on that string was personally selected. The uniform size and cut of each gem would hopefully answer any doubts onlookers would have as to who was responsible for such a gown, but Rarity pushed that thought away.
The diamonds settled atop Princess Luna’s mane, and the twinkling lights therein gave way to a radiant crown of their reflected glory. But even the birth of newly-minted stars paled to the shine in Luna’s eyes, or to the mischievous look yielding to a beaming smile.
Rarity stepped away from the mirror before it betrayed her own self-satisfied glee to her client. She had done it. That look she recognized on every satisfied customer—every mare from farm girls looking for a wedding dress or the upper crust looking for that certain something to hold over the crowd—she saw that confidence in Princess Luna, the certainty that she would be envied, admired, and everything in between. And Rarity had given her that.
Her hooves trembled, begging to bounce in joy, but she kept them and the squeals building in her throat down.
“Lady Rarity, you are too modest,” Luna said. She peeled her eyes away from her reflection and settled on her. “Is there no favor I can grant you in thanks? Come to the ball, at least. You would be my honored guest.”
A long and tortured and not unforced sigh escaped her. “How I wish I could, but I promised to be back in Ponyville. Sweetie Belle will be needing me first thing in the morning.”
“As will my sister when the dawn comes, and I know for a fact the train to Ponyville does not depart for another hour at least.” A thought sparked behind Princess Luna’s eyes, and a most pleased grin quickly followed. “An hour is more than enough time. Please, come downstairs and let me introduce you to my nephew. You two would get along splendidly.”
“Your—” Rarity’s ears pinned back as if they could stop the rush of humiliation brought by the memories of Blueblood, or stop the stream of obscenities and curses that came with them. “Your nephew? Would we really?”
“Positive. I believe you would be right up his alley.”
“If you mean—!” Rarity swallowed her retort. Surely Luna meant that as a compliment. Surely she simply never heard tale of the fireworks between herself and Blueblood, or how her dear nephew had no interest in Rarity other than wanting a doormat. “With all due respect, Your Highness, are you just as positive you know what Prince Blueblood is looking for in a mare?”
“My sister’s nephew?” Luna furrowed her brow. “What does he have to do with—ah! Have you not heard of my nephew? I assumed word of Equestria’s newest lord would travel fast.”
“Lord...?” Rarity did not trust herself to say any more without appearing the babbling fool.
The words didn’t sound real. She played them over and over again, confirming each time that yes, Luna had spoken them. Spoken them correctly, even. But she couldn’t have. It was mere basic speech, Equestria’s newest lord, but it just could not be. Luna must have made a mistake.
It certainly wasn’t Rarity’s mistake. She had shared breakfast with Twilight just the day before, and her dear, brilliant friend hadn’t breathed a word of new royalty. Nor was the darling very skilled at keeping secrets.
Barring Twilight, Sassy Saddles had never heard a line of gossip she did not love to share. They had been together mere hours before, on top of the stream of customers for the day. Rarity failed to recall one specific client other than Luna, and therefore whether or not said client was in the Canterlot know, but she forgave herself under the circumstances.
No. No, she was not mistaken. She saw no way Equestria could have a new lord and she heard not one thing about it, therefore it stood to reason that Equestria did not have a new lord.
Yet there was no trace of a joke in Luna’s eyes, and no doubt she was at a complete disadvantage at how to play the situation.
She would have to rethink.
Luna seized her hoof and pulled her along. “I will not take no for an answer, Lady Rarity. The both of you could benefit from this meeting.”
It was all Rarity could manage to keep her balance, much less resist the insistent tug of her princess. A new lord it was then. She struggled to find the words for a proper congratulations. Such momentous occasions did not occur every moon of course, a princess installing one more hoof-picked player on the Canterlot stage.
Or perhaps instead of congratulating Luna on her growing family, it would be better to express condolences to the unfortunate soul facing the unforgiving odds.
Though that would only be if the soul was unprepared. She gathered the new lord was a stallion already if Luna was so set on introducing him to a mare, and if so, she needed to know what she was getting into. Details. Education, personality. She relegated reevaluation of her social network to a later time.
Luna was more than willing to sate her bubbling curiosity on the forced march to the ballroom. He was indeed a full grown stallion, a graduate of Canterlot University. Born in the city itself, which brought a sigh of relief. Not every pony had the strength to stand up to the elite’s scrutiny of outsiders. He had studied law. From Luna’s exasperated tone on that subject, Rarity assumed he still studied a bit too much.
“He has ideas,” Luna said to her pressing. “Brilliant ones, even. But there comes a time when theory must be put into action.” She slipped through a plain, undecorated wooden door and led Rarity down a narrow corridor. “I hope you might spark that action in him. You and your friends, of course. There’s no reason he can’t impact Equestria like the bunch of you.”
“Us?” Rarity shook her head as if the jerks could set the world back to its proper place. She had not even met the stallion yet, much less know with any certainty if Twilight knew he existed, and he had already brought about her being dragged through a castle. “Perhaps it would be best if we let the excitement settle in first before changing the face of Equestria?”
Again, she added silently.
Luna dropped the matter, and the pair rounded a corner. A well-dressed stallion waited beside a door embellished with a familiar pattern. A side door to the ballroom, Rarity realized. Luna returned the stallion’s bow with a nod. “Please herald my arrival, and my guest, the Lady Rarity.”
He straightened and turned his attention to Rarity.
She bristled under his sweeping eyes, and the frown his scan brought to his lips. As if he was one to judge when his buttons were all different sizes, no doubt why he was stationed well out of sight. She brushed a hoof on her chest to highlight proper tailoring to accompany her comment, and the touch of her bare coat felt more like ice in her veins.
Her voice came out a strangled cry. Curse her for a fool, she had forgotten in the excitement. She had made a dress from scratch, but that was all. One dress. Not a scrap for herself. “Your Highness, I have nothing to wear! I can’t be introduced like this!”
Luna clicked her tongue. “I said I won’t take no for an answer, and I will stand by that. Perhaps you could run and wear one of my old dresses?”
“The fitting would be all wrong!” Rarity threw a foreleg across her face. “Oh stars, naked or unskilled? Careless all the same, but which is worse?”
“And is it better to leave an expectant gentlecolt alone?” Luna giggled in a manner that Rarity did not quite appreciate, and she shooed her away. “Wait for us in the gardens then. I’ll bring him along as soon as I can.”
Rarity dashed back from where they came, and hopped behind suit of armor to columns jutting from the walls on her circumnavigation of the grand ballroom. Luna had posed a good question, but Rarity refused to wrestle with the distraction of an answer until she had avoided her embarrassment—a guest being spotted in an even poorer state of dress than the servants.
The trek brought her close—very close—to former clients and low, conspiratorial whispers of other guests, but neither raised an alarm as she passed. If she could pass the entire night with that anonymity, all the better, and she soon enough set triumphant, secret hoof of the soft grass of the gardens outside.
Oh, her poor aching hooves. They had done so much for her that day, from pounding the cobblestone streets on her charge to answer Luna’s summons to the struggle of holding fabric in place all afternoon, and the only care she could offer them was the hope that some evening dew could wash out the stress of the day. Nevermind the fact that she was about to meet royalty without a proper polish.
And she hadn’t even gotten to witness the reception to Luna’s dress.
She shuffled her hooves through what moisture was available. It may have only been her hooves, but even that much eased her worry. Her mane must look a fright, she dreaded the thought of her odor, but at least she wasn’t a total loss anymore.
If only her confidence could shine as bright as the moon shining down on her. She could dazzle any stallion, but mere clean hooves were such a minor thing compared to that glory.
Perhaps escape was the best option after all, rather than pacing back and forth twixt the warm glow of the castle and the stillness of the gardens. Yes, she could slip into those gardens. Slip in, then claim she had lost her way through the statues and rose bushes, and had only found her way out when she had no choice but to rush for the trains.
Sharp hoofsteps cracking on the stone floors banished the thought.
Rarity drew in a quick breath and resisted the urge to wipe a moist hoof to smooth her mane. Far too late to risk a blade of grass in her hair. Nothing for it now but to keep her composure.
A stallion emerged in the doorway. A unicorn, with two glasses of punch floating beside him. “Lady Rarity, yes?”
He stood too far away to make out his face in the lighting, but Rarity had the feeling she had seen him before. She could not place his voice. Perhaps she had only seen him in passing at some gathering or another. But his coat—a rather tempting shade of yellow, like toasted honey, she noted—did nothing to help her. “I am.”
The stallion waited a heartbeat before filling the silence. “Princess Luna said you were expecting her, but she couldn’t free herself from her admirers.”
She took in his attire next, but it proved a fruitless search for his identity. A conservative jacket, cut midway down his barrel with a white shirt underneath. No ruffles, no frills, not even a tail to be seen other than his own. Nor, it finally dawned on her, was there any sign of a peerage, or family crest. “Just Princess, is it?”
He dipped his head. “Aunt, I suppose, once I get used to it. I understand we have you to thank for this chance to meet alone?”
“Just a happy consequence of success, I assure you. I’m pleased the dress was a hit.” She allowed herself a deep, relaxing breath. He was just a stallion. A pleasant one thus far, though she hadn’t given up trying to place him. If she could just draw him closer...
She ran a hoof up her foreleg. “I only wish the dear princess had given me warning to prepare something for myself.”
He stepped out at last. His features held a youthful, wide-eyed look to him that Rarity had not expected. A graduate from Canterlot University, Luna had said, but Twilight had always been her standard for that. He looked as if Twilight may have had two or three years on him. She studied his dark eyes, more inviting than piercing like some gaze trying to see through her. But there was something behind them as well. Not recognition, she finally dismissed that, but a welcome realization that set her mind at ease.
His eyes lingered on hers, no matter how long the moment did the same. One comment on her appearance, even a gesture to her body, and he had not taken the chance to drink in her naked flanks or the curves of her legs. He only held her gaze, smiled, and agreed, “That would have been a sight.”
Rarity schooled her face tight at the simple flattery. Elegant in its simplicity, really. No clunky insistence that she was already beautiful, nor a firm agreement that she was unpresentable, but a desire to see more. More of her. Perhaps even a compliment of her work. A gentlecolt, and a disciplined tongue to boot? This stallion was not to be underestimated.
But neither was she, and she had given him ample time to correct his oversight. She turned and walked along the rounded wall of the ballroom.
He fell in step beside her, floating over one of the glasses. “Seraph Sharp at your service, my lady. Though I hope you and the other Element Bearers won’t need my services very much.”
Rarity let slip a short giggle, taking a drink as she scored Fast learner on his list of qualities. Seraph Sharp. And now they were on equal footing. “I imagine most ponies avoid the legal system anyway they can, but an ally is always a good thing to have.”
“Doubly so in my case. I specialize in crime investigation.”
Her eyes widened.
He grinned. “You’ve gone too quiet. I’d like to believe those aren’t the eyes of a hardened criminal.”
She let the banter pass, buying time with another swallow of punch. An investigator. The Royal Guards were the investigators, or the police in other cities. They found evidence and brought the perpetrator into court for punishment. She had had a taste of it back in that bit of bother with Rainbow Dash and Wind Rider. But that was merely a mean-spirited lie to sabotage her friend. Not... not the violence the Royal Guard trained for. “N-nasty business, investigation.”
“I agree,” Seraph said. “Thousands of years of pony history and we still can’t quite stamp out crime. Still, it’s the crown’s responsibility to carry out justice.” He paused. “So long as justice is done.”
Rarity sensed a rehearsed bit behind that statement. Reform was a common refrain in Canterlot, common enough for her to expect it with the hors d'oeuvres along with a side of tax policy around the table, but she had rarely heard it used in regard to the justice system. The system worked, she always thought. Surely if the guards had been called in during Rainbow’s issue they would have found exactly what she did.
They passed by one of the windows, and she caught sight of Princess Luna surrounded by an adoring crowd. The thought occurred to her that Luna may very well have heard about that incident. Perhaps they could help each other after all, the Bearers and this fresh face. She would have to see.
“I don’t disagree,” she said, tilting her head to Luna, “nor do I think the idea has failed to cross her mind before. But she took a rather extraordinary step by claiming you as her nephew. Why?”
Their eyes met under the moonlight, Rarity hoping he could see the sincerity reflected in hers. He conceded the impromptu contest with a hopeful smile and soft laugh. “Well the short version is that she liked my ideas. I was called into a meeting with the dean, and she was there instead with an offer to adopt me. Her version would be longer, of course. I could tell she did her homework on me. About my family, how I did in school before the University. She even quoted part of a speech I gave months earlier, even had a copy of my thesis. With notes!”
Rarity nodded. “Twilight often tells me that Princess Celestia was like that. Very thorough, never set hoof in a room without knowing exactly what was going to happen, that sort of thing.”
“Oh good, it isn’t just me.” He laughed again. “After I passed whatever test she had in mind for meeting me, she offered to adopt me.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
Rarity pondered that level of decisiveness. “What exactly would you like to do, Mr. Sharp? What are these ideas of yours that inspired her so?”
Seraph raised his eyes to the heavens. “I want to get us out of the dark ages. We aren’t beasts anymore, Rarity, but we still work on a primal herd instinct when some pony breaks our laws. The investigators collect evidence, and whatever story they come up with is what we call the truth. It’s no different than setting our biggest and strongest against them and forcing them out. We don’t even let them defend themselves.”
She believed him.
On they walked. He recited cases she had never heard of—very much the point, he said—of ponies locked away when other explanations for a crime existed, if only someone had taken the time to explore them. She listened to his dream of being that someone. First him, eventually others. No pony would be punished without an ally making sure, absolutely sure, it was the right thing to do.
Rarity saw a spark of what Luna must have seen in him. Equestria was changing. Events had seemed to be accelerating with Luna’s return, the enshrinement of the Elements, Twilight’s ascension. There was no telling how much impact a new player might have in such times. Especially one willing to set himself against the grain for nothing but the sake of his fellows. With royal backing, no less.
They came to a halt outside a side exit to the ballroom, just in time for their glasses to run dry. Seraph took hers in his aura. “I know you’re pressed for time, but I hope we can talk about better things tonight. It’d be a shame not to hear more about you in your own words.”
Rarity could only manage a smile as he slipped inside, and lingered by the window.
Luna chuckled behind her. “He certainly is a handsome one, isn’t he?”
“Certainly indeed,” Rarity said, watching him make his way across the room. “That and more. Where in Equestria did he come from?”
“You could probably answer that question better than I,” Luna said, sidling next to her.
“Hm?” Rarity shook her head clear. “Me? How could I—” She yelped as she took in Luna’s form, still her striking self, but her mane adorned with her usual tiara of onyx with nary a diamond in sight, nor a scrap of fabric to highlight her blue coat. “Y-Your Highness! But I don’t—I mean, what happened to...?” She swallowed in the face of Luna’s confusion. “The dress, darling! Didn’t you like the dress?”
Luna tilted her head. “A dress? Yes, that makes sense.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Luna didn’t seem to hear her, casting a look over the crowd through the glass. “Ah, there I am.”
“Here you are! By the moon you guide, Highness, what is going—?” Rarity’s eyes flicked over to follow Luna’s gaze, and a second Princess of the Night stood resplendent under the chandeliers, conversing with one of her guards at rapt attention, this one clad in the very gown with which she had struggled so.
Rarity left her sentence unfinished and could only looked back and forth. One princess a leg’s length away offering a comforting smile for her, and another clear on the other side of the wall. She staggered back, and was able to see both Lunas in her field of vision after a pace or two. “Huh? But the... what? I was—”
“You are asleep, I assure you.”
“B-but I was here, in Canterlot! I was...” She rubbed her head, blinking. What had she been doing today? She had been summoned to the castle from... her boutique. It must have been her boutique. Why else would she be in Canterlot? Her boutique, where she had been doing... things. Things with fashion.
Oh dear.
But her hooves ached. Her back was sore from bending over Luna’s hemline. If she was dreaming--
Luna would not have been able to walk through the wall. Nor would she have been able to pass by so many ponies without notice.
Princess Luna. In her dream. Circling around her other self, inspecting the dress.
Just feet away from her “nephew” she had been chatting up. In her dream.
She hoped the heat creeping up her cheeks was as phantom as her body’s pains and twitches from the strain of her nonexistent afternoon. All leading up to the stallion that had left her so weak-kneed. Luna had already seen him, so that was too late, but if she realized the fantastical relation she had with him...
No, no, oh no. Rarity was not that kind of mare anymore, not after Blueblood. But if she had dreamed it—
“To answer your first question,” Luna said, passing through the dream-made stone once more, “yes, I do like that dress. Very much so. It’s a lovely ensemble.”
The dress? The dress! “Thank you, darling!” Rarity coughed in her hoof, too late to stop the word. Luna was no darling. She was a princess. A princess that just sparked a cover story to deceive her, but a princess all the same. “I mean, that’s kind of you to say. I’ve dreamed of Princess Celestia’s patronage ever since I was a filly. You can only imagine the excitement another princess could bring to the artistic world.”
Luna lifted an eyebrow to accompany her sly smile. “I don’t have to imagine it at all. All our little ponies do that for me.” She laughed a small laugh and shook her head. “It’s a terrible habit I have, peering into dreams with me in them when I have the time. It isn’t often I finish handling the nightmares with much time left to spare, and when I realized this was your dream, I just thought I’d say hello. I suppose I owe you an apology for intruding.”
She watched Seraph turn away from the punch bowl. Rarity drew a sharp breath and headed deeper into the gardens, Luna thankfully following her away. “Oh, just keep me in mind if the dress strikes your fancy that much. I’d be honored to work for you again. But, um, since you’re here, should I take that to mean the night is almost over?”
Luna nodded. “The sun is starting to rise as we speak.”
“I see.” She stole a glance at Seraph—who met her look and quickened his pace—and snapped back to Luna. Time. Too much time before waking. “Well how should I put this? I really need to hit the ground running tomorrow, er, today as it were. Would it be possible for you to leave me—I mean, to let me rest just a little longer?”
The way Luna’s eyes oh-so-slowly crept over to the stallion trailing them convinced Rarity the heat in her cheeks was no phantom at all, but the princess’ smile held no mockery in it. “I’ll see what I can do.” A soft glow lit the tip of her horn, and intensified with the sight of her body fading away. She vanished with a flash of the blue shade washing over every inch Rarity could see of her dream.
“Are you leaving?” Seraph said. He floated her glass over as if he neither saw nor cared that anything had happened, a touch of worry in those inviting eyes of his. “Has it been an hour already? I had hoped we had more time.”
She ignored one figment of her imagination to regard another, the punch, for a moment. Would it still taste as fruity now that she knew it wasn’t real? She dismissed the thought a moment later. Luna gave her more time, so she may as well take full advantage of it.
Seraph sniffed his glass. “I think it’s still fresh. Is there something else—”
Rarity pounced, crushing him to the ground under her. She swallowed his gasp of surprise, her lips pressing his own, just as full and soft as she thought they might be.
“Rarity!”
Silly dream, letting him call her name when his mouth wasn’t able to manage much beyond muffled protests against her impropriety. All she could feel in the moment was heat, the heat of his kiss against her, the heat of his exhalations washing over her face.
“Rarity?”
There, just on the edge of her senses. The unmistakable sweetness of a drop of honey.
A weight fell on the back of her head. “Rarity, you promised! Wake up!”
She jerked up, her gagged cry joining the yelp of something falling away from her. She was blind, blind as if her light spell failed her in the darkest cave outside Ponyville. Rarity tore at her eyes, and her hooves ripped away her sleeping mask to reveal Sweetie Belle collecting herself at the foot of her bed. “Zwwty Dll—”
Rarity coughed, and a flock of feathers wafted through the air. “Sweetie Belle, are you all right? You gave me such a start!”
“Yep!” Sweetie bounced up and down. “You remember what today is right? Right? The Filly Guides’ campout! You promised to help me pack!”
“Yes, yes, I remember,” she said, hurriedly climbing out of bed and pulling the sheets up to cover the ruined pillow. “I went shopping yesterday, so you go and get whatever snacks you need. I’ll gather your things.”
“Okay, but I’m not allowed to bring more than one bag, so leave some room for the snacks.” Sweetie Belle sombered for a moment. She prodded Rarity’s chest with a hoof. “One. Bag.”
Struggling to hold down the slightest grin, Rarity crossed her heart. “One bag, on my honor. Rainbow Dash told me the skies will be clear all weekend, so I won’t even pack an overcoat for you.”
Satisfied, Sweetie Belle trotted out, which finally left Rarity with the chance to look herself over for the first time. Her mane was a tousled mess. Not surprising if she had thrashed about as much as she wagered she did, but she estimated it would take at least twenty minutes of strenuous brushing to make it presentable again. Not to mention the combing to get it back into its proper shape. Perhaps she should wash it and start all over again.
Perhaps she would once Sweetie was out the door. Until then, she hadn’t the time.
Snatching up Sweetie Belle’s satchel from the under the bed, Rarity walked a brisk circle by all her dressers and armoires. Socks to keep Sweetie’s hooves warm from sleeping on the cold ground all night—beige of course, so as not to show any dust or dirt from said ground. Such functionality was key with such a tight space requirement, but Rarity simply couldn’t settle on just one scarf. The red one was so bold, but if the autumn leaves had changed already, poor Sweetie Belle would do naught but blend in. So the green scarf was an absolute necessity.
And on she went, packing away all the essentials her sister would need out in the unforgiving wild, tucking an item here, and turning one on its axis there to respect the boundary set. Until she completed her circuit and met the eyes of Seraph Sharp one more time.
A wry smile, a quick spell to set down Sweetie’s bag, and she levitated the book on her nightstand. Seraph Sharp in the Shadow of the Moon declared the title. “A fresh face for a new era,” claimed one Manehattan reviewer. “The law, years of tradition, and royal expectations: can one stallion shoulder them all?” challenged the tagline. And piercing through all those distractions slapped on the cover were the deep, dark eyes carrying a hypnotic stare that complimented the gentle honey shade of Seraph himself.
All things considered, her subconscious had been quite accurate.
Was that honey she tasted on her lips?
Giggling softly, Rarity set the book down. She caught a sight of herself in the mirror—extra feather still caught up in her mane and all—and could only press a hoof to her temple. “You silly mare, aren’t we getting a little old for those dreams?”
“Rarity,” Sweetie’s voice echoed from the kitchen, “where’s the granola bars?”
“Third shelf of the pantry!” she sang in reply. Turning her attention back to the task at hand, she double checked the contents of Sweetie’s luggage. Clothes, combs, a little foundation to keep her coat sparkling, and much to her satisfaction, she even had room to spare. If only she had time to dash off to Sweet Apple Acres and stuff Applejack’s smirking muzzle in that leftover space. All the essentials while leaving Sweetie Belle the opportunity to bring back a souvenir. Practicality in spades, simply in spades.
Well. Perhaps not. Now that she thought about it, what souvenir would Sweetie Belle find in the woods? Something dreadfully uncouth no doubt. And no doubt something dreadfully uncouth would be brought back, spoiling every last item within proximity.
Ah, now there was a problem. But every problem had its solution. Or accessory, in this case. After all, what rule was there saying that one Filly Guide bag could not contain yet another, smaller bag?
Check and mate.
Hooves skipping in joy, Rarity trotted for her closet. The space was a touch on the small size, perhaps no more than—
Than a book.
Yet again, Seraph Sharp commanded her full attention. He had done so for the last three nights in fact, but never so... thoroughly. Twilight had told her the characterization of the novel was its strong point, but something that vivid was more than she had expected.
And Twilight wasn’t expecting it back until the middle of the week. Plenty of time for a filly out in the middle of nowhere to lose herself in a story.
Perhaps the themes might have been aimed a bit older than a filly Sweetie’s age, but her sister’s intellect had always surprised. The author had also fortuitously refrained from the seedier elements of Canterlot crime scene, the murders and the like. Perhaps in the future Seraph might be called on to answer such heinous actions, but for now he was a rising star, bright and full of hope for the future.
Yes, and she had learned the hard way that there was nothing more a young filly could hope to admire in a stallion but a noble heart. And such a spark of imagination was exactly the kind of thing an older sister should pass on to their sibling. Perhaps not all of the spark Rarity enjoyed, as she cast a glance to the sheets covering her poor pillow, but a young mind needed heroes to look up to. Something new to expand their horizon.
“Sweetie Belle?” she called. “I don’t suppose you know the exact itinerary for this weekend?”
A pause, and then, “What?”
“Free time, darling, do you know if you’re going to have much free time?”
“I think so?”
That was good enough for her. Rarity slipped in the book and zipped up the bag. “I’d say you’re ready to go then! Do you need a hand down there?”
Silence was her only answer.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she muttered to herself. A sister’s duty, after all. Rarity closed the door and trotted on to lend what help she could.
