Maid at You

by CinnamonSwirltheBreaded

Rating: teen
Tags: Comedy, Romance, Drama
Length: 10508

Twilight tries to be a good marefriend, but her attempt to express her feelings for Rarity goes poorly.

Twilight is not very good at romance, and can't help but feel like she's not quite holding up her end of the bargain, when it comes to her relationship with her marefriend, Rarity.

After some thought, she decides she ought to show more of an interest in Rarity's hobbies and interests; unfortunately, it backfires, and now her marefriend's run away to Canterlot! To work as a maid!

And Twilight isn't sure she likes the way her former teacher is looking at the former fashionista.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2017-02-01 22:40:01 UTC

How She's Maid

The train chugged along, and Twilight couldn’t help but admire the blue skies above them as it sped along the tracks. Out here, Twilight and everypony else on the train were technically in the middle of what some ponies called the wild zone, an area between more civilized areas of Equestria where the weather was controlled and the seasons happened on demand. It was winter outside, although the pegasus-controlled climate inside the cabin only made the crystal blue skies and crisp, virgin snow enjoyable in its starkness, not uncomfortable. And it was beautiful, in its own way. It was almost surreal to think natural forces could create something so wonderful…

Her eyes drifted upward towards the sky, and then she frowned. Surely, according to all her studies, this was when she ought to be comparing the shade of the sky and sharp whiteness of the snow to her lady love. Every book made it clear that the protagonist, separated from their special somepony, would make some sort of observation, some sort of simile to what they were seeing and the physical appearance of their lover. The books, both the ones Rarity had lent her months ago when Twilight was only starting to develop feelings for the mare, and the library’s worth of purchases and donations she had collected since, all made that perfectly clear.

So why couldn’t she think of anything? Should she compare her to a winter’s day? Her coat more beautiful than the crisp snow, her eyes and cutie mark more ice-blue than the very sky?

The problem was, they weren’t.

Oh, it wasn’t that Twilight didn’t think Rarity wasn’t more beautiful than the scene outside her window, she was certain that she found her more attractive. She had never in her life had any interest in kissing a winter’s day, for example, or allowing a winter’s day to talk her into getting her dock waxed, or doing… things in the middle of a rainstorm under a bridge. No, that much was clear, yet…

She couldn’t see Rarity in the scene outside. She could compare her in her own head, but it was forced, awkward, barely worth noting. If it had been the opening sentence in an essay she’d have thrown it onto the ground (and probably visited the horrible thing with a ray of pure magic, for good measure). Rarity made it so easy, so smooth, so sexy-

Two nights prior, she had practically sent Twilight running for her bed by merely biting into a particularly juice plum and savouring its flavor in front of her. It was fortunate she didn’t have to go to said bed alone, but Twilight could never replicate the feat.

In truth, she was starting to wonder how she ever managed to get such a wonderful marefriend at all.

Months ago, when she had first taken on Starlight—who was sleeping stretched out on the bench on the other side of the aisle like a filly, curled up against Spike—the mare had asked her rather pointedly ‘how do you make a friend’. At the time, Twilight had given some sort of half formed, wishy washy answer that would have done a philosopher proud, but it was only in retrospect that she realized she really had no idea how she had ever managed to get such a wonderful and diverse group of friends to begin with. Princess Celestia had almost certainly played a part in it, but she couldn’t point to any one point on that terrifying night where Applejack, for example, had gone from stranger to a pony she’d trust to call her friend.

It felt like much the same way with Rarity. If she asked, she was sure her marefriend would pin down the exact date they had gone from best friends to bed friends and from there to marefriend, but Twilight couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been all Rarity’s doing, and Twilight had just been lucky enough to end up as the object of her affection.

For heaven’s sake, she spent five hours the day after the plum incident trying to come up with a way of replicating it for Rarity’s benefit; erotically, deliberately enjoying some item of food in a way that suggested more than it gave away… and the best she could do was a durian or a block of mozzarella cheese. Neither of which, Twilight suspected, would get her point across. Especially not the durian. She didn’t want to imply her marefriend smelled.

Well she did, but it was a lovely scent.

In short, though, Twilight wanted to be a better marefriend. She wanted to be the Rarity for Rarity, in the way Rarity was Rarity for her.

She just couldn’t help being afraid that it was just impossible for her. What she needed, more than books, more than research, was advice.

Unfortunately, among her friends, if she were to turn to somepony for romantic advice, it would have been Rarity. Pinkie’s approach to the romantic arts involved being easy, if the town’s gossip mill was to be believed, and neither Rainbow nor Applejack struck her as the sort of pony to really have a good grasp on such delicate emotional dances, however much she might have loved them as her friends. Fluttershy was a possibility, to be sure, but on some level, Twilight was afraid that the mare idolized her, or perhaps that was just her projecting. Regardless, her advice would almost certainly be that she ‘be herself’ but being herself was what had gotten herself into the mess in the first place.

Fortunately, though, Twilight was a resourceful mare. Even if her closest friends weren’t terribly romantically inclined, she had an ace in the hole: her brother’s wife. Or more accurately, a pony that Twilight had come to realize, without knowing it, was very much her sister, and not just because her brother was sleeping with her. No, if Shining was her BBBFF, than Cadance was surely her BSBFF… and fortunately for her, Cadance was the alicorn of love.

If anypony could help, it was her.

She hoped.

**

Ostensibly, the reason Twilight had come to the Crystal Empire at all was so Starlight could spend some time with her old friend, Sunburst. He seemed like a nice stallion, all things considered, and it was Starlight’s oldest friendship: True, it had lapsed over the years and the distance between Ponyville and the Empire made the friendship somewhat restricted to letters and visits at most, but she had thought at the time that it would be a good place for her student to start; and by all accounts, it had been. So, it wasn’t a lie to say that she was more than happy to take Starlight to see him, and it wasn’t a lie—not exactly—for her to imply to her friends that it was the sole reason for her visit to the Crystal Empire.

Of course in retrospect she probably didn’t need to make much of an excuse to visit family, but framing it in terms of a friendship lesson, even if her friends liked Starlight, allowed her an excuse to narrow down the number of ponies who were coming along to the bare minimum. This suited her just fine, since she wasn’t exactly thrilled with the prospect of approaching her sister-in-law for advice. It was… to put it simply, embarrassing.

Also, she may not have mentioned to Cadance just yet that she was in a relationship at all, and she’d rather not have her make a big deal out of it in front of her friends, if she could avoid it.

It had paid off, though. Spike had come, it was true, but it was was easy enough to slip him some bits (not gems?) and suggest he go along with Starlight to visit Sunburst. Ever since Twilight had started dating Rarity, it had felt like she was walking on eggshells around the drake, although she was starting to wonder if he wasn’t developing a bit of a crush on Starlight, as it were. She wasn’t sure she approved, if he was. On the other hoof, it might just be that he liked being the dragon mentor to the socially awkward unicorn again.

The three of them parted aways at the Palace doors, and after watching the two of them walk off down one of the main spokes of the city, she turned to the task at hoof, and entered the palace.

It didn’t take her long to locate them. After all, she was a princess, and so was Cadance, and the guards dotted around the palace were all too helpful in pointing her in the right direction. Obviously they had gotten her letter, which was good. The whole affair was informal, of course; most of the guards knew, or should know by now, that while she might have wings and crown she certainly wasn’t making a visit to Princess Cadance and Prince Shining Armor as Princess Twilight. She was just visiting her sister-in-law and her beloved brother.

And playing the role of doting aunt—one mustn’t forget that.

She found them in one of the sitting rooms that honeycombed the interior of the spire; both her brother, Cadance and Flurry Heart.

“Twilight!” Shining said with a grin, sliding off a sofa that looked brand new, which it probably was, and placing his book—or comic, Twilight thought with a grimace—aside and stepping up to wrap her into a big, massive, bear of a hug that compared favorably with the actual bearhugs she had gotten from Fluttershy’s friends over the years.

He was just the same as always, and not, too. Just as she remembered him most fondly, he smelled of linseed oil and polish, of sweat and cheap ink. Other ponies might not think so, but they were good scents, and they always reminded her of him. Nothing stays the same forever, though, and Twilight couldn’t help but notice he looked a bit older and a bit more tired, even as she returned the hug and buried her nose into his shoulder. And, of course, settled over all that like a veneer of flowers was the scent of Cadance.

So, she supposed that was still the same old Shining, if he was still stealing the shampoo of the mares most closest to him. The thought of all those suddenly empty bottles growing up made her smile. He certainly was still her BBFFF!

“I was wondering when you’d get here,” Cadance said with a teasing smile. “Are the trains running behind?”

Twilight shook herself as she stepped back from her brother’s embrace, even has he stayed close, brushing his side against hers, as Twilight turned to the other pony—or ponies—she was eager to see.

In times past, she and Cadance might have dropped to their bellies and performed that silly, fillyhood dance, however she was too old— oh, who was she kidding? Of course they would do that!

But perhaps not right then; Cadance was, after all, carrying Flurry Heart in her foreleg, which made the whole prospect of dancing somewhat intractable.

On the other hoof…Twilight’s eyes slipped from Cadance’s face to the chubby faced alicorn in her forelegs.

“Sunshine, Sunshine, butterflies awake,” Twilight sang, as she danced slowly, so she didn’t frighten the filly. “Clap your hooves—” She substituted the motion with a gentle boop to Flurry’s nose, which elected a giggle and a squirm out of her. “—and do a little shake!” There was no getting out of that, to be sure, although Twilight didn’t hold the pose for long.

Her brother, she couldn’t help noticing, was shaking his head at her antics, so she stuck her tongue out at the stallion; Flurry and Cadance both seemed to enjoy it though, with the former giggling and clapping her little hooves, and the latter grinning.

“Is this going to be a thing now?” Shining asked exasperatedly. “You know I love you Twi, but come on, you’re a princess now!”

“Aww, don’t be like that, Shiny,” Cadance interrupted for Twilight, giggling and shaking her head. “I think it’s sweet!”

Twilight felt her face heat up slightly, both at the sense that her brother might very well be right, and Cadance’s praise. She was a princess. There was some decorum she ought to observe… on the other hoof, it wasn’t in public, and she loved that stupid little foalhood greeting. Maybe when Flurry was older, she’d love it too.

“Come here, Twilight,” Cadance added, shifting her hold on her daughter so she could pull Twilight into a hug of her own. Twilight ultimately had to put in most of the work, but she didn’t mind. They might not be sisters in blood, but hugging Cadance was just as comforting and familiar as it was with Shining. It might have been awkward and weak on her part, but the love was just the same, even if she did smell slightly of an unusual combination of dried milk and baby powder these days. “Ufmh! It’s been too long!”

Twilight laughed at that. “Too long! I was only just here... “ she thought for a moment. “A few weeks ago!”

“Too long!” Cadance cried, flaring her wings dramatically before laughing. “Come in, come in, have a seat! Goodness knows I need it.”

“Long day?”

“Try long week, long couple weeks, actually.” Cadance declared as she sank onto the sofa next to her husband, and patted the space beside her. If they weren’t so close, it’d probably be too small of a space. “Meetings, endless meetings!”

“Being a parent hasn’t done great wonders for our relaxation, either,” Shining added.

Cadance shot him a mocking glare and sniffed. “I don’t recall you getting up in the middle of the night to feed her—or having your teats chewed to pieces.”

Shining half blushed, half rolled his eyes and Twilight snickered at his plight. “I would if I could, sweetie.”

“Care, love,” Cadance said with a lilt in her voice as she nodded towards Twilight. “Twilight’s quite accomplished with transformation spells—if you don’t behave I might just ask her for her help…” the princess let her voice trail off for a second, then: “You’d look cute as a mare.”

Shining blanched, then forced a nervous, forced laugh. “Ha, well, uh, you wouldn’t want to do that, Cady, I mean, you like me for who I am, right?”

Cadance sniffed in a way that reminded Twilight of her own marefriend, which only redoubled her blush. “That’s why they invented strap-ons, dearest!”

Her brother’s face went red, and Twilight gasped out: “Cadance!”

“What?”

Twilight gestured to the half-sleep alicorn filly her sister in law was currently rocking in her arms. It wasn’t as if Twilight wasn’t unfamiliar with Cadance’s brand of humor, which wasn’t necessarily crude, to so speak, but it was certainly… romantic, in nature, at times. Still, Cadance hadn’t started talking around Twilight like that until she was well into her teenaged years.

Cadance glanced down at the baby and snorted. “Twilight, she’s barely a year old; I highly doubt she can understand anything we’re saying.”

“Still,” Twilight said, as she smiled at Flurry Heart. It was probably time for her nap, actually, given how sleepy she looked.

There was a small lull in the conversation, probably due to Shining trying to stop panicking.

“Would you like to hold her?” Cadance asked with a grin that suggested she’d be more than happy to fost her over to somepony else for a little bit.

Twilight nodded, and carefully accepted the filly; unlike Cadance, who was obviously experienced enough to just use one leg, Twilight dedicated both of hers to hold the filly; she was far too precious to leave to chance. Flurry Heart squirmed for a moment as she changed mares, before burrowing her face into Twilight’s chest ruff with a content huff, closing her eyes as Twilight gazed down at her with a growing sense of…

Perhaps wonder was appropriate. Even though she knew the biology (in all senses) of how a baby was born, holding her niece, watching the tiny thing drift off, still filled her with a sense of amazement. Despite all the trouble she might have caused—much to her parents’ amusement, actually, since apparently Twilight herself had been prone to such magic based disasters herself—she was just an innocent, tiny little filly that two years ago simply didn’t exist. This little creature who had gone from a haploid egg and sperm and turned into something that could drool on you.

Yet, under that wonder, there was a growing, bitter, bubble of… jealousy? Envy? No, no those weren’t right. It was a growing bubble of regret. It wasn’t that she necessarily objected to stallions, but so long as she continued down this path with Rarity, the odds of herself ever having a little Flurry Heart of her own were slim to none. Maybe they could adopt, but truth be told she had always had the impression from Rarity—and to a large degree herself—that if a baby wasn’t accidental, neither of them would find the time to sit down and plan to start a family.

She loved Rarity, and she wasn’t afraid to admit it, but part of her couldn’t help feeling regret over the fact that she’d never be a mother herself. This, holding her niece while her sister in law flicked her tail at her brother’s nose and she pretended she didn’t notice, was the closest she’d ever get to being a real mom. Never get to see this hypothetical daughter—she thought she’d rather have a daughter than a son—grow up, or start a family of her own or—

Flurry Heart shifted against her chest and one of her extremely large and powerful wings flicked out, booping Twilight on the nose.

—on the other hoof, it was Twilight’s opinion that her vagina was perfectly formed just the way it was, and needed no remodeling. She was pretty sure Rarity would agree.

“Aww,” Cadance cooed. “You’re a natural, Twilight.”

Twilight smiled back, genuinely, if somewhat crookedly.

“So,” Shining continued, “did Spike go with Starlight? You mentioned wanting her to spend time with Sunburst.”

“He did,” Twilight nodded. “How is Sunburst, by the way? I really only know him from what Starlight’s told me, but,” she gestured with her hoof. It struck her as somewhat of a failing on her part, that she remained so ignorant about her student’s friend, but there just hadn’t been time for herself to become friends with him too.

“He’s been a great help,” Cadance smiled warmly. “He reminds me a bit of you, actually, Twilight. Same sort of thirst for knowledge, at least.”

“Why do you ask, Twily?” Shining added, his own grin taking on a surprisingly Cadance-like edge. “Are you interested in him?”

“No!” Twilight protested, blushing; not simply from the accusation, but the fact that her brother had come so close to the truth of the her own visit, at least in broad terms. “I’m just curious, is all.”

“Come on Shining, you know full well he’d probably be more into Starlight…” Cadance added as she gently smacked her husband with her wing.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Twilight said, then hastened to add: “I mean, about him being so helpful. I’m surprised you didn’t hire a nanny, Cadance.”

Cadance shrugged with her wings, in a very regal but very alicornish manner. “I’d rather not let somepony else raise my foal. I know I don’t look it, but I wasn’t born a princess, as you well know, and I suppose…” she shrugged again as if to say her formative years as an orphan had made the idea unacceptable. “But it is nice to know we have somepony we can trust to look after her if we need to take the time to do something.”

That, at least, Twilight could understand. She didn’t consider Spike her foal, but it had certainly been a difficult few years when she was just starting at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns and looking after the minute to minute needs of the baby dragon. Plus, even if she no longer had occasional uncontrolled flares of magic, Cadance and Shining’s letters to Twilight had painted a picture of a little pony who was a bit of a trouble maker.

“If we lived closer to Canterlot, I’m sure Mom would help out.” Shining sighed. “When I signed up for the Guard, I knew I’d probably not get to decide where I settled down, but…” He gestured to the walls of the palace, silently pointing out the sudden and unexpected reappearance of the Empire some years ago.

“You might get your wish,” Cadance added thoughtfully. “Your mother mentioned she was thinking about getting a place here, last she visited.”

“Really?” Twilight said, echoing her brother’s similar exclamation. It was a weird thought, to Twilight. Her parents had always lived in Canterlot, even before they got married, and to think they’d be even further away made Twilight feel… weird.

“It was just a thought,” Cadance said, looking as if she was picking up the sudden uncomfortableness of the room. “How is she doing, Twilight? It looks like she’s asleep.” She added, as her gaze shifted down to the baby.

Twilight bent down and nuzzled the top of the filly’s head; she certainly looked like she was asleep, in all her tiny sprawled glory. “Yeah,” Twilight agreed, softly out of consideration to the baby.

“I’ll take her,” Shining said, sliding off the couch as his aura rippled around the baby and lifted her out of Twilight’s grasp. She left her chest feeling suddenly cold, and empty feeling. And slightly damp, from where her niece had drooled on her. She expected Shining to leave, but he pulled a door open to reveal a cradle, and started putting her down as Cadance offered her a tissue.

“So what’s the real reason you’re here?” Cadance asked innocently, although her smile was anything but.

Twilight blinked and paused, frowning at her sister in law—and she didn’t miss the way her brother’s ears pricked either.

“W-what do you mean?” Twilight stammered. “I said in my letter that Starlight wanted to see Sunburst…”

“Sure,” Cadance agreed, although the way she kept smiling in a way that reminded Twilight a bit uncomfortably of ‘gotcha’ reporters she spent too much of her Princess years as. “But she’s not a little filly, you know, she can go out into the world on her own.”

“Uh.” Twilight tried to hide her wince at that. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Starlight, but perhaps it was better to say it wasn’t that she didn’t want to trust her. Yet, the last time she had let the mare out of her sight with a friendship problem in front of her, she had bewitched their friends. “I’m not so sure about that, but even so, it was a good excuse to visit my niece—and you two—as well.” Twilight added, nodding towards her brother and Flurry Heart.

“And you’d hardly need to send us a letter to drop in,” Cadance pointed out. “You know that. In fact, that you sent a letter at all suggests you had something else on your mind.” Here, her smile grew a bit more pointed. “You’ve obviously been distracted by something too, actually.” She paused and the pointed smile practically grew fangs. “And you’ll forgive me, but I couldn’t help but notice you’ve waxed your dock…”

“Cadance!” Twilight did her best to strangle her shout of indignation as she glared at the mare—and all too self-consciously, clamped her tail down. It didn’t help. She knew dating Rarity would take her on new adventures and trials, but she was still getting used to the ‘art’ of beautification, as her marefriend called it. Being bare down there was weird. And it didn’t help her growing blush one iota either.

“Ugh,” Shining said, groaning over by the cradle. “Really?”

“What?” Cadance’s smile was about as innocent as a stud, but she tried her best to sell it, she really did. “We’re getting off topic, though; so, spill! Who is it?”

“Who’s what?” Twilight echoed, although the gleam in her eye made it abundantly clear what she was talking about.

“Your special somepony, of course!” Cadance’s voice was filled with unbridled glee. “Don’t deny it, Twilight, I can see it in your eyes,” she added, in a softer, more serious and supportive tone of voice.

Twilight sighed heavily, but felt relieved even so. After all, now that the topic was out in the open, she didn’t have to think of a way of coming up with ‘hey Cadance, Shining, let’s talk about the pony I love?’ in the middle of a conversation. “Yeah.”

“Yes!” Cadance said with a bit of a shout, pumping her hoof into the air. “Called it, Shiny! I called it!”

“You did,” Shining said, rolling his eyes and glancing over his back at Twilight, meeting her eyes. There was nothing but love there, and Twilight knew she had made the right decision coming.

“So,” Cadance said as she settled down, having grabbed a pillow and using it prop her head up as she smiled at Twilight. “Who is he? Is it that apple pony? Big Dick?”

“Cadance,” Shining said chidingly.

“Um.” Whatever embarrassment she might have been spared, having Cadance bring it up, was repaid in double. She should have seen this coming, she supposed. Cadance didn’t know she was a homosexual—or perhaps more accurately, bisexual, but that was splitting hairs. Would she be disappointed? Twilight hadn’t even considered that.

Twilight glanced at Shining, who returned the look steadily, and warmly. He didn’t say anything, but Twilight felt as if he was trying to reassure her, knowing what fears had just rose up within her just now. She forced herself to smile.

“It’s Rarity, actually,” Twilight said in a rush, before she could think about it too much.

Cadance stared at Twilight for a long moment, looking at her from over top of the pillow she was clutching. Was she mad at her? Horrified? Cadance had, obviously, always seemed to have been attracted to stallions—was she repulsed by her being into mares?

She let out a long, keening groan and buried her face into the pillow. “Oh stars above, Twilight!” Cadance said, her voice filled with a harsh edge of embarrassment and frustration. “I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I was so stupid!”

“Heh,” Twilight said, not quite sure what to say, even though the momentary tension in her shoulders melted away, and she felt rather foolish for it. After all, Cadance was the alicorn of love, and she can never seen her so much as hint at the notion that she was uncomfortable with homosexuality. “It’s fine, Cadance, really. You couldn’t have known.”

“This is just like that time I made those two siblings kiss!” Cadance cried, fortunately into the pillow so as to not awake Flurry.

Shining let out an amused snort and settled into another seat, since his wife’s sprawled form was currently taking up the rest of the couch. He went back to his comic book. Traitor.

“It’s fine! Honestly, Cadance!” Twilight protested, giggling with sheer relief as she shook her head.

“I should have known, though,” Cadance said, finally stopping her moaning and popping her face out from where the it was hidden so she could look at Twilight critically. “I’ve never seen you so much as blush at a colt!”

“Hey now,” Twilight frowned, feeling mildly insulted for some reason. “I never said I didn’t like colts too, you know, I just happen to be—”

“This explains Moondancer, for sure,” Cadance cut her off, musing silently as she rubbed her chin.

“No it doesn’t!” Twilight grumbled. “What about Flash? I liked him.”

Cadance gave her a pitying look. “Twilight, please. I know you don’t want me to feel bad, but there’s no need to lie.”

“It’s not a lie, I did like him!”

Cadance gave her a very firm look. “Twilight, please.”

Twilight crossed her forelegs and huffed.

“So,” Cadance said more cheerfully, “Rarity, hmm? Now that I think about it… I would have thought you’d go for Fluttershy.”

“Fluttershy?” Twilight said, feeling confused and a bit off topic. “Why? I mean, I like her, and all, it’s just…”

“She’s shy and cute, and Rarity’s a bit of a drama queen.” Cadance said, with a sly sort of smile on her lips. “Not someone I’d think you’d go for.”

“Really?” Twilight said with a touch of acid. “I like you, don’t I?”

“She has a point, Cadance.” Shining said from behind his comic book, proving he wasn’t so disinterested as he seemed.

“Hush you, I know where you sleep!” Cadance grumbled, in a self mocking sort of way. Then she turned back to Twilight and propped herself up, looking at Twilight quizzically. “So, you’re dating Rarity—is that all you wanted to tell us?”

“Actually, I was hoping you could give me some advice,” Twilight said; her mood, the sort of playful banter and general buoyancy that was brought on by Cadance being completely unfazed by Twilight’s sexuality, melted away, back towards her reflective, worried self. “About Rarity. I didn’t know who else to turn to, Cadance.”

“Of course, you’ve come to the right place,” Cadance nodded, her voice becoming business like, professional… for all of five seconds before she broke into a small smile again. “What sort of advice do you need, Twilight? Is it about dating?”

“Uh,” Twilight could feel her cheeks heat up slightly.

“Or about how to, say, kiss her?” Cadance’s smile grew a bit wider as Twilight’s face grew a bit redder.

“What about sex?” Cadance grinned. “I’ll admit, it’s been a few years since I’ve been with a mare, but I know my way around a tail, if you know what I mean.”

“Cadance!” Twilight groaned, feeling very much out of her element. It was embarrassing enough admitting she didn’t know how to date somepony she was already in a relationship with, without… this.

Shining thought so too, abruptly rolling out of his seat. “Alright, if you girls are going to be talking about my sister’s… love life, I’m out.”

“We’re not!” Twilight said, forcefully and firmly, as she stared at her sister in law, who was apparently completely unfazed. Of course she wouldn’t be… it was Cadance. “We’re not talking about that, Cadance.”

“Aww,” Cadance cooed, shifting so she could drape her wing over Twilight’s back. “But I’ve always wanted this day to come, just the two of us, mares, talking about how our lovers are in bed… sharing secrets, advice… that sort of thing!”

“You realize I’m the pony you’re sleeping with, right?” Shining protested, as Twilight nodded in agreement. “I don’t think she wants to hear anything about that, you know.”

“Fine,” Cadance huffed, and her playful expression softened into something that Twilight recognized as her ‘serious’ or ‘helpful’ face. She was done teasing, and wanted to help.

It’d be nice if she could get through to this point without actually getting teased, though.

“So what’s the problem, Twilight? I mean, it sounds like you and Rarity are already in a relationship, correct? So I assume this isn’t about how to ask her out.” Cadance paused, then patted Twilight on her withers. “I’m very proud of you.”

“No, it’s not that,” Twilight chose to leave out the fact that it had been Rarity, not herself, who had asked her on their first date. “It’s more…” How could she explain, exactly, to her brother and sister that she wasn’t really sure how to date her? Mechanically, she knew, of course, yet she felt like a wilted flower, struggling against the expertise of somepony who clearly knew how to make twilight feel far more special than Twilight knew how to make her feel special.

Maybe that was the best way of phrasing it.

“It’s… I guess, um.” Twilight twiddled with her hooves, frowning down at the floor to avoid their eyes. A moment later, she felt Cadance drape her wing over her back, and she was able to draw confidence from her touch. “I guess I’m just not sure how to make her feel special, exactly.”

“Ugh, I thought we agreed not to discuss that!” Shining replied, looking stressed.

“Shining,” Cadance said seriously, “Let her talk.”

“No, it’s not that,” Twilight grumbled. “It’s more…” Okay, so maybe it was a bit like that, with the plum thing; however, “Take this morning. I was riding the train, and I’m looking out the window, and I keep thinking to myself that I ought to be… waxing poetic about how the snow and sky are pale compared to Rarity—or something.”

“Eh?” Shining frowned, and Twilight returned it with one of her own.

“It’s not that either, I don’t expect to suddenly be a poet now that I’m in love—” the word fell out and plopped on the floor completely unexpectedly, and it took Twilight a moment to hastily correct herself. “I mean, now that I have a special somepony.”

Somehow, based on Cadance’s encouraging smile, she hadn’t convinced anypony.

“When I’m with her, she’s always doing these little things that just… I don’t even see, or think of, or imagine, to make me feel special, to make me feel like she wants to be in a relationship with me. I keep feeling like she’s doing all the work in the relationship, and I’m just along for the ride—but what happens when she finally realizes that I’m not pulling my weight?”

It hadn’t managed to give her nightmares yet, but it still haunted her dreams.

“Not everypony is going to be a… a romantic,” Cadance pointed out, when it was clear Twilight was done talking. “I mean, I think Shining would agree, of the two of us, he’s probably the more romantic of the two of us.”

Twilight gave her sister in law a very skeptical look. Cadance only smiled at that. “It’s true. Oh, I’ll admit I’m probably better at it, if he asked me—”

“Hey!”

“—but he tries, and he’s always trying, and, well,” Cadance shrugged.

“Must have done something right, though,” Shining added with a smile, looking fondly at his wife.

“You must have indeed,” Cadance agreed. “So, don’t be too worried if Rarity’s more of the romantic in the relationship.”

“But surely I must be able to do something? I feel like I’m hardly contributing at all,” Twilight protested, shaking free of Cadance’s wing and starting to pace. “I want her to feel like I’m in this relationship with her, not that I’m just along for the ride… yet I just can’t get into a mindset where that happens for me. She sits down and reads books with me, etc, and I just.. I don’t know… it feels like she could waltz out of my life and find somepony else and she’d get just the same relationship.”

“I suppose what you’re trying to say,” Cadance said thoughtfully, “is that you don’t think you have a relationship, exactly? She’s interested in you, but you don’t know how to show interest in her?”

“Other than the obvious, yes!” Twilight exclaimed, only for pin her ears back as Flurry Heart let out a sleepy grumble. “Sorry, sweetie.”

“Mhmm.” Cadance rubbed her chin, looking thoughtful. “Well, have you tried to get involved with her interests? Her hobbies?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for example, Shining here runs a O&O game every Sunday night.” Cadance’s smile twisted into a bit of a teasing smirk. “Just as he did back in Canterlot. So, I’ve picked up his rule book, and joined him, on occasion.”

“You play O&O?” Twilight asked, surprised. She simply couldn’t imagine Cadance, of all ponies, taking up such a hobby.

“Level twelve bard,” Cadance said cheerfully. “You’re right, of course, I don’t think I would have been interested if it weren’t for Shining being interested in it. Not that it isn’t fun, you’ll understand once you get into it, but I originally only joined him,” she smiled at her husband, “because I wanted to see him in his element, to understand him and his interests.”

“I told her that charisma was a dump stat,” Shining said, somewhat frustratedly. “And then she charmed her way through a whole village of ogres.”

“And we got the best treasure, didn’t we Shining?” Cadance added, grinning.

Shining looked like he would have rathered to have fight his way through the campaign.

“But I don’t think Rarity is the sort of mare who plays O&O,” Cadance continued: “what sort of hobbies does she have?”

“Hobbies?” Twilight echoed, thinking. “Well, I suppose there’s, uh, gossip, she does like to talk about who’s dating who and so forth.”

“A mare after my own heart,” Cadance quipped with a smirk. “Go on?”

“I’m not really sure…” Twilight shook her head. “I mean, there’s romance novels, she loves reading those—” Twilight suppressed the urge to gag. They may be called novels, but she suspected some of the writing literally devalued writing in general with its silly drama. “I suppose I could read with her, and we could discuss them, but…” (Her voice trailed off.)

Cadance chuckled. “As I recall, your ‘critique’ of one of my favorite romance authors put me off them for three years. I love you for it, Twilight, but perhaps it isn’t the best idea; you do have a bit of a…”

Twilight nodded.

“What about dressmaking?” Shining interjected, showing himself to not be a passive statue.

“Dressmaking? You mean fashion?” Twilight frowned at him. “That’s her job, Shining, not her hobby.”

“I guess so,” Shining agreed, “but I mean, I had the impression she enjoyed fashion, but her cutie mark was really in, you know,” he set the comic book aside and gestured with his hoof vaguely. “Bringing out a pony’s inner beauty. There’s a lot of ways she could do that, right? I mean look at you.”

“Me?”

“Sure,” Cadance agreed, taking up her husband’s line of thought. “Your talent is magic, but in some ways it’s more of a passion, hobby for you, the study of magic. You’re not a wizard, for example, and I don’t ever remember you expressing an interest in being so.”

“I don’t know if I’d characterize it as a hobby,” Twilight said, but her objection was only peripheral. She found herself thinking on it and agreeing. “But I think you make a good point. I’ve never really shown that much interest in fashion, really, but I suppose learning the ins and outs of dressmaking… it would certainly allow me to understand her, when she’s talking about her job.”

“Exactly.” Cadance nodded her head vigorously.

Twilight nodded herself, not really paying attention. If she was going to show her marefriend how much she cared, and do so through, well, dressmaking, she had better get studying. She mostly knew about dresses in the overt sense, and very little of the details. Unbidden, memories of the incident with the Gala dress came to mind, and she’d have to make sure to avoid them this time too.

Yet, even that worry was shoved aside with the brightness and excitement of a new idea, a new plan, a new checklist! Rarity’s birthday was coming up soon, and while Twilight had already bought her marefriend something (two somethings, but only one of which she was willing to give to her in public, especially with Spike there), what if she got her a dress? Specifically, a dress that Twilight had made herself.

Oh, she could already see how this might backfire on her, she’d have to be careful not to create an abomination that seared the eyes right out of her marefriend’s head. For all her self doubt, though, Twilight did know what her marefriend liked, and with a little bit of work and some luck she was sure she could create for her, and create something that she wouldn’t be embarrassed to death to wear.

Not, Twilight reminded herself, that having Rarity wearing it was the important part; it was merely getting her to understand that Twilight did value her, and wanted to contribute to their relationship. She could be an equal partner, not just Rarity’s ‘marefriend’.

“Alright,” Twilight said, pulling her head out of her mental clouds and interrupting whatever Cadance and Shining had been playfully arguing about. A quick mental check of her memory suggested it was something to do with how her sister in law played O&O, but that wasn’t interesting. “I think I’ll do it. Do you think the Crystal Empire’s Library has any books on sewing or dress making, Cadance?”

“It does,” Cadance said with a smile. “I can help you learn, too, I’m not just a pretty face you know, I can also sew.”

“Good,” Twilight said. She had a feeling practical instruction would be invaluable. “I hope I can can get everything together in time for her birthday, though. That’d be perfect.”

**

If there was one thing Twilight was absolutely good at, it was studying. Studying had gotten her this far, whether it was studying magic or friendship, and she applied those lessons to dressmaking with a gusto. Once she was certain she had the basics down—after returning to Ponyville—it was merely a matter of acquiring the materials, the cloth and thread, the sewing machines, pins and needles, guides and reference books and references, to start to put it together. Thankfully, there were plenty of rooms in her castle that she could use to set up a workshop away from the prying eyes of certain ponies and certain friends; although she eventually brought Spike in on the conspiracy, since she was so used to him helping her study.

Blackboards were erected, sketches sketched, erased, and reworked. Discreetly, Twilight took her marefriend’s measurements—and compared to them Rarity’s encyclopedic set of measurements she kept locked up in her shop’s storeroom, to make sure they were accurate. She wasn’t sure about the sometimes significant discrepancy, but she made sure to correct the files all the same.

The dress, formed on one of Rarity’s old ponyquins, came together slowly but surely. She had no illusions about her skill, so Twilight kept it simple; simple, but sweet. A small, delicate border of lace, a little bit of embroidery—she hoped it wasn’t too bold, making them a mixture of her’s and Rarity’s cutie marks, even if you had to be close to tell that it was so. The colours were—Twilight wasn’t so proud to admit—stolen from some of Rarity’s favorite items in her wardrobe and extrapolated from there. Black was the foundation, modified so it wasn’t too harsh, a few flickers of colour, red, purple, to keep one’s interest.

It was admittedly hard making sure it fit her, considering she couldn’t actually let Rarity try it on. Thankfully, Twilight was skilled with magic, and was more than capable of using every iota of magic to help her fit it properly.

Slowly but surely, it came together.

Before long, though, it seemed like Twilight was up against the deadline she had set for herself, Rarity’s birthday, and barely had the time to finish it up, cut off any loose ends, and wrap it in an appropriately sized box after properly folding it.

The box was simple enough, and as Twilight stood there, hoof resting on the final product of the all the hours of studying and hard work, of all the debris around her, she couldn’t help wondering if she had done the right thing. Would Rarity love it? Like it? Tolerate it for her sake? Perhaps that’s what she really wanted and needed. It was less how valuable it was, and much more that she wanted to show her marefriend that she wanted to be an important part of her life.

She smiled, picked up the box, then headed to her bedroom to get dressed. Normally she wouldn’t for a birthday, but it was Rarity’s birthday, and she did expect a certain level of class. Twilight was more than happy to indulge.

(A feeling helped, in part, by the fact that she was now an alicorn and had to, in Rarity’s words, actively work to be unclassy. Usually those words were accompanied by an exasperated tone of voice after Twilight had done something particularly embarrassing in public (or private), but Twilight was confident there would be no hayburgers at Rarity’s party.)

The evening was wonderful; very intimate, with just the six of them joking and laughing, enjoying themselves. It had started at the spa, and after some ‘well deserved’ pampering moved out to one of Rarity’s favorite restaurants. Twilight had been taken there, and had taken Rarity, there on several occasions, but of course the atmosphere was somewhat less romantic and intimate with Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash there, no matter how many magically floating candles or Prench butlers the place had.

Yet, Rarity kept smiling and laughing throughout. It was something that Twilight admired about her, even before they had started seeing one another in a romantic sense. There was no doubt in Twilight’s mind that Rarity was high class, or yearned to be, yet all that was set aside for her friends. In theory, it was a party that Pinkie had put together, but in practice Twilight knew Rarity wouldn’t feel right not hosting her own birthday party, and Rarity knew that Pinkie and Rainbow would rather made crude jokes or minor pranks than be well behaved.

Not that she didn’t think her marefriend might not ask her to help write the poor maître'd an apology within a fortnight. It was Rarity she was talking about, after all.

After the restaurant, the party wandered back to Rarity’s home for after-dinner tea and gifts. Twilight had offered her castle—Celestia knew she barely had use for such a large castle, especially not when she’d rather have a cosy nook. Rarity had turned her down, though, perhaps out of pride, or perhaps because she wanted to host it herself, as much as possible.

Twilight had brought a second gift, something smaller so she could get away with giving her marefriend something at any point, while saving the dress for last, and while she was sure Rarity appreciated the necklace—the kiss alone made it worth the cost—it allowed her to give her something she would really appreciate.

A dramatic reveal of one final gift.

They went around a circle, sprawled out on pillows and cushions in an almost slumber party fashion around the birthday mare. Fluttershy had gotten her a wood carving of a songbird, Rainbow had gotten her an illustrated book of the Wonderbolts’ uniforms, and so forth. Soon, there was a small pile of gifts, each heartfelt, if not always something Rarity might necessarily want for herself, and each—Twilight knew because of her time with the mare—treasured as if it were the rarest of gems.

Spike, of course, had gotten the mare an actual gem which was in fact rather rare, but Twilight was sticking to the simile.

“Ah, well,” Rarity said, her face somewhat flushed with wine and the long social event that had been her birthday. “Girls, I can’t thank you enough, you’ve all been absolutely wonderful.”

“‘nd th’ks ‘u f’r da c’ke!” Pinkie said cheerfully, her icing spray intercepted with a hastily cast shield spell from Twilight.

“You’re most welcome, Pinkie,” Rarity smiled at the mare. “Now, if you girls don’t mind, I’m afraid it’s been a long day, and I’m wanting my bed very badly.”

“Uh huh,” Rainbow said with a lecherous smirk as she elbowed Applejack in the ribs. “I bet you’re just dying to ring in the new year with Twilight, right Rarity?”

“Got to make sure everythin’ still works, now that you’re twenty four!” Applejack agreed wisely, her own snicker barely concealed, then she glanced at Twilight. “Gotta put the old girl through her paces, eh Twi?”

Rarity flushed and flustered, and as much as Twilight enjoyed that look, she came to her rescue all the same.

“Rainbow, Applejack,” Twilight said chidingly. “It's not like that.” Twilight paused, then added with a smile in Rarity’s direction. “Besides, she’s twenty six, not twenty four. That’s still fairly young!”

“Yes, thank you, darling.” Rarity’s voice had a slight acidic tone to it that made Twilight frown. Has she done something wrong? Then she brightened. “Now, the hour’s getting late and some of us need our beauty rest—oh do shush, Rainbow!”

It took the better part of a half hour for everypony, save herself and Rarity, of course, to leave.

“Well,” Rarity said at last, as she bid Fluttershy goodnight and closed to the door. It had taken them sometime to locate the quiet mare, and they had found her curled up under one of Rarity’s work tables, apparently having fallen asleep by accident. “That was… I suppose I’m nearly middle aged, now, Twilight.”

“Oh hush,” Twilight pouted. She had, after some thought, figured out her error, and felt foolish for it. “You’re still young and beautiful. You know that, don’t you?” She couldn’t stand Rarity feeling depressed over her age, even if she was only putting it on for her own entertainment.

“Forgive me, Twilight—and don’t think I don’t appreciate the sentiment,” Rarity’s hoof cupped Twilight’s cheek, and followed it with a light kiss. “But love, you’re the sort of pony who sees very much what a pony is inside, and while that might not fade with time…” She let her voice trail off and gestured wide with her foreleg, as if to say that the rest of herself wasn’t so immune to the ravishes of age. “We are not so lucky, as yourself, after all, darling.”

Twilight flushed and with a very deliberate shake of her head, derailed that line of thought. “Of hush, Rarity.” She lit her horn and pulled the box out from where she had hidden it on one of Rarity’s higher shelves. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Darling, whatever is this?” Rarity said, accepting the package in her hooves, gazing upon it with a sense of wonder and amusement. “Another present? For moi? Darling, you are simply too much.”

“Don’t be silly, Rarity,” Twilight blushed, which wasn’t helped by her worrying over how Rarity might receive it. She was as excited as she was nervous; a mixture of emotions that reminded Twilight rather forcefully of her first date with the mare.

“My, oh my,” Rarity tittered, lightly shifting the box and hearing the contents slide around with a perked ear and a gleam in her eye. “Something you didn’t want me opening in front of the girls, mhmm?”

“Uh, yeah, not really,” Twilight agreed.

“Ah, so it’s something… intimate, perhaps?” Rarity’s smile was growing increasingly cat like, which was making Twilight feel something deep within her stomach that was definitely not her nerves or excitement, in a manner of speaking.

Twilight stared at her rather blankly. She could have gotten her girlfriend lingerie or… or made her something.

A sudden parade of images danced through Twilight’s head, dispelled only with a sheepish shake of her head. “Not exactly, it’s… well, just open it, you’ll see.”

“Mhmm!” Rarity said, her playfulness vanishing with a look of curiosity. “Well, let’s just—oh… oh my,” Rarity’s magic parted the top from the box’s bottom, and she slowly pulled out the dress, the material sliding and slinking out in a way that made the article almost look like it was dancing, just for Twilight.

In Twilight’s hooves, it was just cloth, but in Rarity’s, it was something more wonderful.

Rarity lifted it out of the box, her face hidden by the dress itself, leaving Twilight on a knife’s edge of anticipation. “Twilight, darling, it’s… it’s…”

Horrible.

Repulsive.

Disgusting.

And you’re repellent too!

“Magnifique!” Rarity declared finally, lowering the dress so Twilight could see her face. “It’s truly charming, my dearest! I’ve rarely seen such magic sewed stitching, such elegance. It is simply too much, darling! And I can’t place the artist whose work it is? It’s not Fancy’s, that’s for sure, mmm.”

“Ah,” Twilight sighed a happy sigh of relief. “Well, you see, actually it’s not made by a designer.”

“Ah?” Rarity said, frowning and taking a second look at the hems. “One of those factory made things from your friend’s Sunset’s place, then?”

“No, no,” Twilight grinned, she couldn’t help herself. “I made it.”

“You made it?” Rarity looked up sharply, her face a mixture of surprise and something Twilight couldn’t place. “You?”

“Me!” Twilight said with a laugh. “I wanted… I wanted to show you that I… you know, liked what you liked, cared about what you cared about.” Her mirth left her. “I wanted you to feel like I was trying. For us.”

“Darling,” Rarity said, smiling in a way that seemed strange and it took Twilight a moment to realize that it only looked so because the smiles of the past few minutes had been off, for some reason. “Come here, Twilight,” Rarity set the box and dress aside and wrapped Twilight into a hug. “Twilight, I know you try, I do, and what’s more you succeed, perhaps more often than you know! Don’t ever think I don’t value you for you.”

“So…” a bubble of self doubt. “You don’t like it?”

“I love it, I do,” Rarity said, kissing Twilight warmly—and a bit more passionately than she cared to do in front of the girls—before pulling back with a dramatic yawn. “I do love it, however, I must confess—our friend’s comments aside—I am desperately tired, I truly am.”

“Can… can I stay the night?” Twilight asked, feeling slightly awkward in asking.

“I wouldn’t dream of it any other way,” Rarity said with a laugh.

Twilight couldn’t help but think, as she snuggled up against Rarity’s warm, soft, curvy body, that the laugh had sounded… off, too.

True to her word, Rarity fell asleep within moments, but Twilight laid there wondering, with a seed of worry burrowing into her psyche. She had screwed up, hadn’t she? But what had she done wrong? Perhaps the dress really was poorly made—or not well made, but not badly made. Maybe she hated the colours.

The thoughts swirled around and around in Twilight’s mind; however, Rarity was right. It had been a long day, and before long, sleep claimed her too.

***

Her ear twitched, followed by a second, more insistent twitch that penetrated deep enough into Twilight’s sleepy subconsciousness, and caused her to stir.

The first thing she noticed was a curious bunch of noises from the rooms below Rarity’s bedroom. It sounded like somepony was moving furniture around for some reason, what with the random dull crashes and scraping noise. She hoped it wasn’t Rainbow trying to play one of her pranks on Rarity; for some reason the mare had been trying to make her pranks ‘intellectual’, or ‘smart’, and the results had left Twilight questioning whether or not Rainbow understood what either word meant.

No, replacing Spike’s glass of water with a glass of ethanol wasn’t a smart prank, Rainbow. She was still paying off the repair bills!

Yet, even as the thought clawed its way over to the coffee machine in the kitchen of Twilight’s mind, she realized that Rarity wasn’t actually in bed. The often too-narrow-but-that’s-okay-darling bed of Rarity’s was currently only occupied by one mare. And that one mare happened to be Twilight herself.

Then she remembered Rarity’s less than enthusiastic reaction to her gift the night prior, and that woke her the rest of the way up, more so than any cup of coffee could have done.

As she descended the stairs, the muffled noises became more and more worrying, things being moved around with what Twilight was uncomfortably certain were sobs.

The showroom was a disaster. There was no kind way Twilight could put it, no way of pretending otherwise. Ponyquins were tossed aside, laying haphazardly about, there were shreds of fabric that Twilight was alarmed to recognized used to belong to one or two of Rarity’s latest creations. Threads, needles, debris of all sorts and manners, tossed around in the room in a way that reminded Twilight of the aftermath of a tornado Celestia had one shown her, one that had gotten out of control.

In the middle of it all, sat Rarity, her back to Twilight and surrounded by unharmed, but partly packed suitcases and trunks. In front of her, in a way that brought to mind pagan worship of old, was Twilight’s dress—the one that she had put so much work into, oddly draped around a Ponyquin as if it was on display.

Rarity let out a sob.

Only fear at what her marefriend might do her kept Twilight from running right to her side there and then.

“Rarity?” she said softly. “What… what’s going on?”

“Oh,” Rarity’s voice was filled with false cheer, the sort that reminded Twilight heart-wrenchingly of her mother, years and years ago, after—well… “G-good morning, darling.”

“I… I don’t know,” Twilight admitted as she looked around the room and took a couple more steps towards the mare. “What’s going on here, Rarity? Why did you—you did, didn’t you? You trashed the place.”

“Ah, well,” Rarity said, half turning so she could just look at Twilight out of the corner of her eye. “Out with the old, you see, love. Out with the old! It can’t stick around, you know.”

Twilight didn’t understand. “Is this about the dress? I’m sorry if…” Twilight shifted uneasily. “I’m sorry if it's not very good, Rarity. You don’t have to wear it, if you don’t want to, I just… I wanted to…”

“Not very good?” Rarity turned around wholly, revealing her tear streaked and very strained, face. “Whatever are you talking about, Twilight? It’s wonderful! It’s fantastic! It’s perhaps the very best creation I’ve ever seen.”

“Uh…”

“In fact.” Rarity turned back to the dress and got to her hooves, closing the suitcases around her, save one. “In fact, darling, I would wage it is like a vision come to life, and you brought it to life.”

“Thank you?” Twilight was feeling more and more baffled.

“Don’t thank me, I rather think I should be thanking you—it isn’t as if I could ever craft such a masterpiece.”

Suddenly it clicked for her.

“Rarity, that’s just… you’re being silly. It’s just a dress, and, well…” Twilight bit her lip, thinking hard and choosing her words carefully. “I’m sorry if you feel I’ve… shown you up, or something. That isn’t what I meant to do, I just wanted you to… to know I was interested in the sorts of things you were interested in.”

Rarity let out a long, pained sigh, turning back to Twilight with a genuine, but pained, smile on her face. “I know, Twilight. I do. That’s why I’m not mad at you—you… I can hardly blame you for making such an image of divinity, not when you were only doing so out of the goodness of your heart.”

Twilight didn’t say anything, she didn’t think she could.

“It just puts everything I could do to shame, you see,” Rarity continued. “You’ve shown me something—” Rarity paused to stroke the side of the dress, over where her flank would go. “Something that I never knew I wanted to see with my own eyes. You surpassed me in every way possible without ever really trying, didn’t you darling?”

“Rarity…”

“No, no, don’t you ‘Rarity’ me, Twilight. I rather think between all the dinners, and fireplace chats and saving the world we’ve done together, that I know you rather well.” Rarity said waspishly. “You only meant to make me happy.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Yet, here we are.”

“Where is here?” Twilight asked, looking at the suitcases with a high degree of uncertainty.

“Well, it’s as I said, Twilight,” Rarity explained, her voice turning gentle. “You surpassed me. On a whim. Yesterday, I was on top of the fashion world, today, I am an old mare, unable to keep up with you younger fillies.”

“I’m older than you!” Twilight protested. Rarity wisely ignored that. “I didn’t do it on purpose, Rarity, you know that!”

“I do, but… but,” Rarity struggled to put her pain into words. “It’s as if I’ve spent all evening, primping and curling, and working myself into a frenzy for a party. I am beauty. I am grace. I wow everypony who lays eyes on me…”

Despite the clear warning signs, Twilight couldn’t help smiling. She could remember so many incidents of Rarity doing just that, and—if she was honest—how many times she had been completely floored by the mare.

“..and then, just after I arrive,” Rarity’s light hearted voice, which had been painting the scene, grew cold, perhaps a bit angry. “Princess Celestia walks in, not wearing a stitch in the world, all long legs and sharp horns and flicks her tail around like some sort of teaser mare and suddenly I’m just a pale shadow, forgotten and surpassed, trying to imitate the sun against the sun. She doesn’t even have to try.” Rarity’s eyes fell onto Twilight, filled with sorrow. “Just as you did.”

“I don’t think Celestia does that, really, she’s always very careful with her tail,” Twilight said, momentarily seized by the errant thought, only to remember where and why she was there: “I mean, that’s not true,” Twilight insisted. “I had to study and work hard and—”

“Yes, I know,” Rarity sighed. “Regardless, darling, I’m afraid it’s nearly time for my train to arrive.”

“I don’t think that—wait what?!” Twilight’s eyes grew wide with shock, only for to slump to the floor, tail limp, ears drooping, feeling as if she might cry herself. “You’re leaving me?”

“Leaving you?” Rarity said, carefully packing the dress. “Only for a little while, Twilight. We’re not breaking up.”

“Oh.” Twilight didn’t feel much better, for some reason. “Then… where are you going?”

Rarity looked at her as if she had gone insane, the door opening before her and surrounded in a halo of her own magic and traveling bags. “If I can’t be a dressmaker, Twilight, I have to do something, don’t you think? It’s what my cutie mark is telling me, after all.”

Twilight looked up hopefully. Maybe she was going to become a geologist! Twilight could make herself like geology, even if the topic made her want to crack puns all the time.

“So, if I can’t be a dressmaker,” Rarity turned and stepped into the morning sunlight. “I’ll be a maid. I’ve already got a job interview in Canterlot castle. I’ll let you know how it turns out.”

The door shut with a click, and Twilight stared at the doorway, a growing sense of horror gripping her. She should run after her, she should do something. Perhaps round up the girls? Yes, that made sense.

Still, she couldn’t help but think to herself, as she gave the room one last look, that if this was how she left her home, she wasn’t going to be a very good maid after all.