Written in the Stars

Chapters

1. The Coronation of Princess Twilight Sparkle
2. Fancy's Contact
3. No Late Work Accepted
4. Luncheon With a Princess
5. The Princess in Ponyville
6. Magic and Pure Imagination

1. The Coronation of Princess Twilight Sparkle

“Why hasn’t it started?” a filly of white coat and two-toned, powder purple and pink mane whined. She stamped her hoof against the cobblestone path leading up to Canterlot Castle.

The dull roar hundreds of the gathered crowd swallowed her voice like a hurricane’s howling wind, lost to the ponies’ chattering while they waited for their princesses to appear through the curtains on the white balcony above.

Lost, that is, to all save four ponies standing with her.

“Patience is a virtue, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity scolded, furrowing her immaculately plucked brows at her little sister.

“But you said it would start at noon!” Sweetie shot back. “It’s at least twelve-thirty!”

On cue, Sweetie’s longtime friend, Scootaloo bobbed her head and buzzed her tiny orange wings. “Definitely! If we were ever this late for school, Miss Cheerilee would have us in detention until my feathers were old, gray, and patchy! And, if I remember, you’ve also said punctu—punctu—being on time was important, too!”

“That’s punctuality, Scootaloo.”

“I was close enough!”

Rarity closed her eyes and sucked in her lips. She could feel the onset of a headache, somewhat of a side-effect of taking the fillies anywhere requiring her to keep a close eye on them—so, anywhere at all. Honestly, had none of her lessons on manners and etiquette taken effect?

She drew in a deep breath, slowly letting it out through her nose. “Punctuality is important, Scootaloo,” she said as patiently as she could. “However, when it comes to the Royal Family and big events like this, sometimes delays happen for some reason or another. Just imagine, what if the Royal Guards felt the crowd was bigger than expected and wanted to organize a few extra sentries or crowd control officers? Or if one of the visiting dignitaries required a bit of extra attention?”

The fillies shared a look, silently considering it. For a moment, Rarity dared to think she’d quieted them.

Then they turned to her. “Well, they could at least tell us!” Scootaloo said. “I mean, really! Couldn’t they just have that loud-mouth pony—”

“Herold,” Sweetie corrected.

“—Whatever. Couldn’t they just have him come out and say it’d be a little longer? Go have lunch and come back in an hour?” Her stomach let out a long, low gurgle. Scootaloo ducked her head, a deep blush colored her cheeks. “I may be a little biased about that lunch part.”

Rarity took another deep breath and made to continue her lecture, but her stomach rumbled. The fillies fixed her with expectant looks, she sucked in her lips and tried to ignore her other two companions’ chuckling at her side. “I’m sure the Coronation will begin shortly,” she forced out through gritted teeth. “And once it’s done and I’ve had my meeting, we can all go have lunch together. Sound fair?”

The fillies thought for a moment, then shrugged and nodded in almost perfect unison. “Okay,” Sweetie said, “but if it takes another half hour, we reserve the right to tell you that we told you so.”

Celestia, give me strength. “Very well. But if it doesn’t, I expect you’ll keep your mouths shut about the entire ordeal. And if you don’t, I’ll be forced to write mother about that unfortunate incident with my sewing machine.”

Sweetie Belle let out a squeak, darting around to hide behind a mare with pearl white coat, pink and white mane, and unspeakable beauty and Prench refinement. “Miss de Lis!” she cried. “Rarity’s being mean!”

Fleur de Lis chuckled and leaned down to nuzzle her mane. “Oui, ma cherie, but you seem to be doing your best to antagonize her today. And knowing she has a business meeting afterward.” She met Sweetie’s eyes, then spoke to Rarity, “Perhaps it would be best if I wrote your mother too, Miss Rarity. A witness to our young troublemakers’ crimes today, non?”

“Now, now, darling. Let’s not get involved in family squabbles,” Fancy Pants chided from his place at her side. He adjusted his monocle and spared a wink to the fillies. “We were all young once, and I’m quite certain I would have complained to my mother for food as well at this hour—why, I was just thinking about that lovely little Istallion restaurant before a few tummies started rumbling!”

Rarity fought to hide a blush. “I didn’t eat much for breakfast,” she mumbled, idly checking the cobblestones for any sign of dust. Oh! There was a smudge on that one. Somepony really should have swept the streets.

Fancy’s easygoing smile fell. In its place, a mask of discipline and an attentive gleam in his eyes Rarity had come to know as his business face. “Nervous?” he asked softly.

She nodded once.

“Perfectly normal, my dear. Just take a few deep breaths and collect yourself. I have full confidence in you, and my contact is well aware of your talent and dedication. You will, to borrow a phrase, blow past this obstacle like it wasn’t even there.” He caught a wry look from Fleur and added, “That charming Wonderbolt, darling. The loud one with the rainbow mane.”

Fleur’s ears twitched in recognition. “Ah, oui! I remember. Such a pity she wouldn’t hear a word about styling it.”

“Yes. But I digress.” Fancy coughed, returning his attention to Rarity. He laid a comforting hoof upon her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You’ll be fine.”

Despite his assurance, Rarity couldn’t help but look down and bite her lip. She took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds, then slowly let it out. “Okay. I’ll be fine.”

“There’s my girl,” he praised. “Now, just enjoy the Coronation.” Dropping his voice so only she and Fleur could hear, he added, “If I know our soon-to-be-crowned princess, you’ve plenty of time to gather yourself.”

Rarity’s head snapped up so fast her neck muscles strained. “You know Princess Twilight Sparkle?”

He smiled. “Fleur and I have known her since she was a little filly bouncing on her older brother’s back. Long before she got her wings, in fact.” Shaking his head, Fancy leaned over to peck his wife’s cheek. His smile broadened into a full grin. “If I had to guess, I’d say she’s either nose deep in a book or writing out a grant for another library somewhere.”

A young mare of mulberry coat and blue mane with streaks of purple and magenta sat hunched over her desk. Her keen eyes darted across the last page of a rather thick budget proposal, scanning for any errors, even the presence of an errant comma wouldn’t do.

Her feathers twitched, she chewed on her bottom lip. Everything had to be perfect when she presented her latest venture to her longtime mentor and second mother, Princess Celestia.

“Just Celestia, soon,” the Princess of the Sun would remind her, those soulful purple eyes shining with pride. “Once you reach your majority, you’ll be a Crown Princess with a dominion all your own.”

Twilight put that aside and refocused on the task at hoof. Proposals for renovations and expansions for the Meadow Brook Library of Magical Theory at East Manehattan University had been bogged down in the bureaucracy of Equestrian Parliament for years, each shot down by the Budget Committee.

But Twilight Sparkle was confident her latest proposal would make it through. She had spent the better part of a year researching and compiling budget data, all aimed to find a solution that would provide for the university’s needs and cut cost enough to satisfy the Budget Committee.

While Penny Pincher was, in a word, hawkish when it came to money, the mare was not unreasonable. Prioritizing education had been one of her campaign promises that hit close to home for the middle aged earth pony—Princess Celestia’s Funding Foals’ Future charity made her dreams of a finance degree possible. “Bring down the cost as much as you can,” she told Twilight while out of earshot at a state dinner, “and I will see to it the committee passes your proposal through. But every detail must be accounted for.”

Nothing can be out of place, Twilight reminded herself as she finished looking over the document. With a nod, she levitated the rest of her proposal—all two hundred and sixty-eight pages—and laid them atop their remaining brother. “One more look through couldn’t hurt …”

In the back of her mind, a little voice reminded her to be mindful of her time. The coronation was today at noon, and if she was late, Cadence and Shining Armor would never let her hear the end of it. Not to mention all the playful smiles and musings on the values of punctuality she’d have to endure from Celestia.

“There’s plenty of time,” Twilight muttered. “Celestia only just raised the sun an hour ago. Which means Cadence will come in at eleven with all her regalia to pester me to put mine on, and Shining will be right outside the door waiting in his ceremonial armor to escort us to the balcony.”

Every detail of her coronation had been accounted for, some she would much rather do without. But in the name of tradition, she would go through with it. Despite the crowd and pomp and circumstances that plagued all these big to-dos, she couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride.

A smile tugged at her lips. Her mother and father, Twilight Velvet and Night Light, would be watching from the front row. Idly, she wondered if she’d be able to see their faces from her place on high. Would she be able to see her mother suck in her lips and try to fight back her tears? Or the navy glow of her father’s magic as he dutifully produced a hoof kerchief for his wife, and the warm smile gracing his face while he watched his daughter bow her head to receive her crown?

Twilight closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and held it as she brought a hoof to her chest. Then she let it out slowly, pushing her hoof out in a sweeping gesture like she were banishing the thought. Well, not banishing. Putting it aside.

“Stay focused,” she muttered. “Read this over one last time, then you can get misty-eyed with mom and dad after the coronation.” She began to read again. Her eyes flitted left and right, pouring over each word like she were editing her thesis at Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.

The sound of hooves thundering down the corridor made her ears flick and brought a frown to her face. Who was galloping through the castle at this hour? With a frustrated sigh, she rose from her seat and flicked her tail. She could hear armor clanking along with each stride. Her feathers bristled.

Twilight strode toward the door, wrapping a tendril of magic around the handle as she walked. There had better be some sort of big emergency, she thought darkly. or whoever I find on the other side is going to get an earful! Maybe even two!

She had a schedule, confound it! One she liked very much and was hoping would hold up today! There was still so much to do, and that was before she even considered getting on those staff appointments Celestia had been prodding her for over the last month or so.

The positions listing was somewhere hidden beneath the grant statements for thaumatological research. Twilight paused in mid-stride and turned to glance back at the desk, bringing a hoof to her chin. Or was it beneath the plans for a new library in Ponyville?

The door burst open to reveal Shining Armor. His face was contorted in panic, his chest heaved as he gasped for breath, and his two-toned blue mane was messier than usual. He wore his polished purple and gold trim armor, without his helmet, oddly enough. His deep blue eyes flitted toward her, then widened. “Twily! We need to move, now!”

Twilight blinked. “Shining Armor? Is something wrong?”

“Wrong? Wrong?” Shining gave a shrill, mirthless laugh. “Yeah, just a bit! Your coronation was supposed to start a half hour ago, and no pony’s been able to find you until right about now!”

Her blood ran cold. “What?” Twilight asked. Her heart hammered in her chest like it wanted to burst through her ribcage. “But—how? Celestia only just raised the sun an hour ago!” she sputtered, eyes darting about for a clock to prove her point.

She found the clock mounted on the far side wall, her eyes widened as she took note of the hour hand pointing midway between the twelve and the one, and the minutes hand creeping slowly, but surely toward the six.

It wasn’t seven-thirty. It was twelve-thirty.

When was the last time she’d looked up to check the clock?

Licking her lips, Twilight turned her gaze back to Shining and made to plead her case as if it would change time for her. “But—”

“There’s no time!” His horn flashed, a pink bubble shield encircled Twilight and lifted her off the ground. Shining Armor turned and raced out the door, carrying Twilight in his wake.

Twilight flailed her hooves, desperately reaching for the safety of the red carpet and stone beneath them. “Put me down!” she yelled. “I can carry myself!”

But Shining paid her no mind. He thundered down the hall in full gallop, his armor rattling every step of the way. He panted for breath, muttering fragmented scoldings and curses under his breath as they went.

“Cady’s got your regalia—thank Celestia somepony kept an eye on it,” he said just loud enough for her to catch. “I swear you’re going to be the death of me—could’ve at least told somepony where you’d be! Don’t know why you couldn’t wait until afterward for this! But, no! Nopony listens to Shining Armor!”

Twilight sucked in a breath. She lit her horn and tried to pry her way free of his shield, but her spell fizzled out. The one thing I can never get him on no matter how hard I try. His stupid shields. “Excuse me, I was in the middle of some very important reviewing for a budget proposal.” Flailing her hooves harder, she added, “And I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to scold one of your princesses!”

“Not a princess until the crown’s on your head, and I can still scold my baby sister!” he shot back. “Especially when she’s late to her own coronation!”

“I am a full-grown mare, thank you very much! And if you’d stop, we could make it without straining your spell. A quick teleport would—”

His ears perked up. “Teleporting! Good point!” Shining’s horn flashed a blinding bright pink, Twilight felt her coat stand on end as his magic wrapped around her like a full body cast. “Hang on!”

Twilight’s eyes went wide. “No, Shining, wai—”

In a flash and a crack of thunder, they vanished from the hallway. Twilight’s shriek of protest was lost to the rush of arcane energy as the siblings slipped through space and time on their way to their destination. All the while, Twilight couldn’t help but think:

Why couldn’t we have just announced this in the papers and gone about like normal?

Twilight blinked stars from her eyes as she tried to will her surroundings into focus. She laid spread eagle on her back, her tail twitched in agitation. Slowly but surely, the white marble ceiling, gold trim, soft periwinkle walls, and purple and blue banners came into view. The sound of crowd noise made her ears twitch.

They were near the balcony, at least.

She blew a lock of her mane out of her face. For all the things her brother—that goofy, overprotective, sweet, loving stallion—said about her panic attacks, he wasn’t so innocent. “Shining Armor,” she said without breaking her staring contest with the ceiling, her voice devoid of emotion.

“Yeah?” he called from somewhere a few hooves away.

Her left ear flicked. He was nearby. Even better. Twilight furrowed her brows. “I never want to hear another word about how I panic.”

A nervous chuckle came in reply. “Yes, Twily.” He paused to take a breath, then added, “Wouldn’t happen if you paid attention, though.”

She closed her eyes and sucked in her lips, unable to argue. Instead, she swiped at the air with her left hoof, testing to see if she could reach him. “Scoot over here so I can smack you,” Twilight grumbled.

This time he let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, I think I’ll pass on that,” he said. The clatter and clanking of armor made Twilight flick her ear again. She turned to find him rolling over onto his stomach, their eyes met for a moment. Then his gaze flitted to a point just past her and his ears stood up straight and a familiar goofy smile spread across his face.

“Oh, my! My fiancé and my favorite filly laid out on the floor after a spell gone wrong! Such a delightfully familiar sight.” Cadence’s musical voice and bell-like laughter reached her ears. Twilight turned to face her, frowning at the playful smile and raised eyebrow her future sister-in-law and fellow alicorn aimed back. Cadence tossed a curl of her beautiful tricolored mane over her shoulder and trotted toward them, carrying Shining’s helmet aloft in her magic. “What are we going to do with them, Auntie?” she called over her shoulder.

Princess Celestia stood just inside the balcony, hidden from the crowd by the thick curtains. With a smile as bright and dazzling as her sun, she laughed and shook her head. “I suppose another lecture on punctuality is in order for our newest princess once her coronation is finished,” she said. “I wouldn’t presume to tell you how to—ahem—discipline your fiancé. However, I feel inclined to remind you of our little wager.”

Cadence’s smile faltered. She placed Shining’s helmet atop his head, earning his muttered thanks as he adjusted it to hide the state of his mane. “So, why don’t you tell us what you were up to, Ladybug,” she asked, her tone a bit too sweet to be casual. “The truth, if you please.”

Glancing between her mentor and future sister-in-law, Twilight raised a brow. “Uh … I was looking over that funding proposal for the renovation and expansion of East Manehattan University’s Meadow Brook Library of Magical Theory. Why?”

“Ah!” Princess Celestia fluffed her feathers, aiming a grin at her dejected niece. “Sweet victory. I’ll enjoy that bottle of wine, dear. Mostrato Capusado.”

Cadence stomped a gold-shoed hoof. “That’s not fair!” she whined, pouting at her aunt. “Technically, I was right—she was reading.”

“As part of her ongoing efforts to appease the Budget Committee, yes. Your technicality changes nothing, my dear niece.”

Those ancient purple eyes fell upon Twilight again. The youngest alicorn felt her insides squirm and feathers twitch. Only then did she realize just how loud the crowd sounded, even through those thick curtains hanging just behind her mentor.

She licked her lips. Maybe she could still angle for that low-key announcement idea …

Her face must have betrayed her feeling. Princess Celestia stepped forward to offer a comforting nuzzle. “You’re going to be fine, Twilight,” she said softly. Drawing back a step, she took a deep breath and smiled. “You’ve been an excellent student and friend, and I have little doubt you will make a fine princess.”

Twilight managed to force a crooked smile and nod despite her nerves. “I hope I don’t let you down.”

“Don’t worry about me, dear. Focus on helping all of our subjects.” A flash of humor shone in her eyes. “Though, I would advise you to assume proper posture and put on your business face, or I’ll have to schedule more lessons with Madame Persnickety.”

With a squeak, Twilight stood up straight and wiped the smile off her face, her ears splayed flat against her scalp.

Princess Celestia chuckled. “Oh, never change, Twilight Sparkle. Never change.” Her horn lit a brilliant gold, she floated a pillow over to hover between them.

Gleaming gold and pink star gems had been polished and shined to perfection. Twilight felt her breath catch in her throat. She could see her reflection as clear as the midmorning sun on a cloudless day. All of it had been fitted to her exact size by the castle staff and prepared for this moment—the last day she would walk through the castle halls without such adornments.

She swallowed. It was time, at last. This day had been nearly ten years in the making.

Twilight put on her regalia and tried her best to push her nerves aside. This was a good thing. She could make a difference in the Harmony Province once her lodgings were complete—she could make a difference across the land.

All for her subjects now.

Taking a moment to adjust her peytral so the gemstone was properly centered, Twilight let out a breath through her nose. “I’m ready,” she whispered.

“Yes,” Princess Celestia replied, her voice thick with emotion and pride, “you are.” With one final embrace, she floated the pillow over to a waiting attendant, who bowed as she accepted it. Then, she gestured for Cadence and Shining Armor to take their places.

The pair trotted passed Twilight, though not without sparing a quick hug and nuzzle before they stood with Princess Celestia. With a bow, Shining Armor snapped to attention, then cross-over stepped to face the curtain, his easygoing smile melted into the stern mask of Captain of the Royal Guard. The Royal Guard sounded their trumpets, he led them forward in the ceremonial march, knees raised high and shoulders squared. Cadence followed first, then Princess Celestia—a silent show that the eldest and highest authority would always be waited upon. Always, that was, save for one day.

The coronation of another princess.

She could hear the crowd cheer and stomp their hooves, eager to greet their princesses.

A hush fell over the crowd. Twilight could almost picture Princess Celestia’s patient smile, like a mother waiting for her foals to take their seats at the table.

“Citizens of Equestria,” Princess Celestia called, “I stand before you today a proud mare. Not for anything I have accomplished myself, but for the achievements of a young mare I have watched grow from her days as a filly at my school and throughout her studies in magic. It was with great joy that I watched her ascend into alicornhood, a testament to the hard work, dedication, and willingness to use magic to benefit those around her—values instilled upon her by her loving parents, Night Light and Twilight Velvet, both of whom, I am honored to say, are here with us today.”

Twilight heard another low rumble of hooves stomping in polite applause. She couldn’t help but smile. It might make her mother squirm, but they deserved to be recognized for raising her. Who else could handle a filly with her penchant for magical outbursts and experimentation and stay sane?

Though that first attempt at teleporting had left a permanent scorch mark on the living room floor …

“Without further ado, please welcome Equestria’s newest princess, Twilight Sparkle.”

The curtains shimmered pink as Shining drew them apart. Twilight flinched as sunlight flooded the room, she had to blink a few times to chase away the spots so she could see Cadence, Shining Armor, and Princess Celestia standing near the rails on the pristine white balcony, awaiting her with bright smiles.

Her hooves seemed to move without her command. She walked forward slowly, fighting to keep any sign of nerves off her face as she maintained her stately mask. The twitching in her feathers came more frequent. By her third step, she could see over the railing. She could see the crowd.

It wasn’t a crowd. It was an ocean of ponies that stretch from just inside the castle walls all the way back to Mane Street. She could even see families of pegasi laying on clouds so they could get a better view.

Her heart skipped a beat. That is quite a bit bigger than I ever thought it would be. She hesitated for a step. The teleportation spell leapt to the forefront of her mind. All it would take was a quick magical burst and then, she’d escape all those eyes.

There must have been at least a thousand ponies watching. All of them watching her.

Twilight glanced to Princess Celestia and met her mentor’s gaze. There was no sense of expectancy, simply understanding. The ancient alicorn’s smile never wavered. It was in that instant Twilight understood why Princess Celestia insisted on presenting and coronating Equestria’s newest princess herself:

She knew exactly what it was like—the nation’s eyes were upon her, anxious and eager to see what sort of princess she would be and what she would do to better their lives. And now it was time for that weight to pass to Twilight’s shoulders. But Twilight had a distinct advantage.

Two of them, to be precise. Two princesses with years of experience ruling, and the patience to guide her along.

But it was up to her to make an effort. Just as it was on her to give their subjects—her subjects now, too—a good impression of their newest princess.

Twilight closed her eyes for a couple seconds and took a deep breath. She made her decision, opening her eyes and continuing onward with her head held high and a small, warm smile spread across her face. This was the sort of princess I’ll be, she told herself as she stopped beside Princess Celestia.

Her mentor beckoned her longtime mare-in-waiting, Raven, over.

Raven trotted forward with her head held high. She bowed to each princess before turning to present Princess Celestia with her burden—a plush purple pillow with a gleaming golden crown resting at the center.

Princess Celestia muttered her thanks, levitating the crown for all to see. Silence reigned over the city as she turned to smile at Twilight. “From this day forth, you are Twilight Sparkle, Ruler of the Harmony Province, and Princess of Equestria. May you rule with fairness and compassion.” She lowered the crown.

Twilight felt the cool touch of gold upon her head. Her heart felt like it was fit to burst. Still she held her smile and managed to nod and mutter her thanks in turn. Gazing out over the crowd of ponies gathered before them, she raised a hoof to wave at her new subjects. Then a burst of inspiration hit her.

As Princess—just Celestia now. As Celestia always said: “To rule is to serve.”

She planted her hooves and squared her shoulders, then bowed to the crowd. It took every fiber of self-control not to giggle at the sharp gasps from the nobles and governors in the front rows, all aghast at her audacity. She had just defied every tradition they knew. The scandal!

But then came the roar of the crowd. Earth pony hooves stomped like a thundering herd, unicorns flashed their horns, and pegasi coaxed peals of thunder from their clouds. They cheered in one voice, loud enough to make her ears ring and shake her to the core:

“Hail Princess Twilight! Long live the Princess! Long live the Princess!”

Author's Note

Took a few months to finally get myself to publish this, but here we go. Thanks to my friends, Mono and Tim, for listening to me grumble and gripe for months while I figured out what I wanted.

2. Fancy's Contact

Sapphire eyes gazed up at the castle sitting in the distance. Rarity adjusted herself so she was a bit more comfortable in her seat, taking an idle sip of her jasmine tea. Upon Fancy’s advice, the group had relocated to a little spot called the Canterhorn Peak Café, a charming little place that mixed fine décor with the sort of small town comfort she was familiar with as a Ponyville mare, born and raised.

Not to mention, the outdoor seating gave the fillies the chance to enjoy the open air rather than feel cooped up for however long Fancy planned on waiting for his so-called contact to free up.

“We’ll let things settle in town,” he’d said while he polished his monocle. “As much as they can after a coronation, of course. Then we’ll make our way over.” With a chuckle, Fancy had reclined and turned his attention to the castle. “After a gesture like that, I daresay our new Princess will be the talk of the town for quite some time.”

And he wasn’t wrong. What a gesture it was! A war raged within Rarity’s mind. On one hoof, there was the ambitious socialite— the mare who delighted in gossip and had her eye on a place in the upper echelons of Canterlot’s elite. That mare was positively appalled!

Princess Twilight’s gesture flew in the face of centuries of Equestrian tradition! A princess was not meant to bow to her subjects—they were supposed to bow to her. It was a show of respect for all they did for Equestria and her citizens. Not to mention all the work Princess Celestia had done to protect them during her thousand-year reign.

With all that said, why ever should they bow to their subjects?

But then there was the down home, Ponyville mare who stood in opposition to the socialite—the very mare who went galloping into Everfree Forest upon hearing that her baby sister had gone wandering about in search of Zecora’s hut with only Scootaloo and Apple Bloom, the little filly from the Apple family farm, as her escort. Just the memory had her seeing red and glancing at Sweetie out of the corner of her eye.

If that little filly ever did something so foolish again …

Rarity took a deep sip of her tea and let the herbal scent soothe her thoughts. There was little point in dwelling on the past, even if she would see to it Sweetie couldn’t sit down for a week should she do something like that again.

That aside, that tiny sliver of the country mare her parents had raised found the gesture oddly appealing. Like it brought Princess Twilight down from her ivory tower to walk amongst the common ponies. What’s more, it made her seem more like one of them.

Not to mention, her smile was quite radiant. And her coat, by Celestia’s mane, what a beautiful shade of purple—no, not quite purple. Mulberry. Yes, that was it.

Rarity brought a hoof to her chin. Come to think of it, Princess Twilight would look positively magnificent in the right shade of blue. Something light, perhaps. A perfect contrast to her lovely coat.

Maybe, she mused in a flight of fantasy, Fancy’s nameless contact could put me in touch with somepony involved in choosing her wardrobe for state dinners or, if lucky enough, the Grand Galloping Gala itself! Wouldn’t that be something?

“I don’t understand get it!” Scootaloo huffed, pulling Rarity out of her thoughts. The little pegasus gave an irritated flick of her wing. “Why’d we have to come all this way if she was just gonna stand in the balcony and not say anything important? I thought this was supposed to be some super special event or whatever!”

Fleur de Lis hid a smile behind her tea cup. “The point of the coronation was more the crowning of a new princess, ma petite. Just think, it’s a moment you can tell your foals about someday—especially with the response she received.”

“But it was so dull! The way everypony applauded, you’d have thought she came out and actually said something important!”

To her left, Sweetie Belle chewed on her lip. Indecision was written plain across her face. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I mean, we weren’t really promised a big speech or anything.”

Scootaloo rounded on her and spread her hooves wide. “Yeah, but still! She could’ve at least said something! We rode two hours for that! And I’ll bet lots of other ponies took longer trips!”

Rarity made to grab her by the shoulder and hiss a quick scolding, but a laugh from Fancy Pants made her pause. “I suppose it would seem awful silly to a filly your age,” he said with a shake of his head. Sipping at a cup of Earl Neigh, he gazed at the castle in the distance. “But I hold a different opinion of Princess Twilight’s actions, my dear Scootaloo. To me, it seems like she said quite a lot without saying anything at all. Why, one might say she was thanking everypony for being here on her special day.”

Raising a brow, Scootaloo crossed her hooves. “She couldn’t have just said it, though?”

Fancy grinned. “Well, sometimes adults like to do silly things like being symbolic with these sorts of things. You’ll understand when you get older.”

“I doubt it,” Scootaloo muttered. Her ears twitched, she furrowed her brows and stared at Fancy Pants for a moment. “Say, didn’t you tell us you knew Princess Twilight before she got her wings?”

“I did, yes.”

Sweetie sat up straight. “So, you’d know her better than most the ponies who were there today, right? Is she normally like that—more symbolic than talkative?”

Before he could reply, Fleur snorted. “Twilight Sparkle? Not talkative? Oh, heavens no!” Her eyes danced with mirth. “Get her talking about the right thing and she could talk the paint off a wall!”

“Now, now, dearest,” Fancy chided playfully. “Let’s not besmirch our new princess in front of the fillies.”

“I am correct, non?”

“Yes, you are. But she does have an image to maintain. Let’s not make the poor dear’s job at that any more difficult.”

“You spoil all my fun.” Fleur tossed her mane over her shoulder and feigned irritation, but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She cast a quick glance toward the door, flicking an ear. Her smile faded. “Where in Equestria is that waitress?”

Though her stomach agreed, Rarity held up a hoof. “I would imagine the wait staff and kitchen are both quite busy.” She gestured to the window, waving at the packed dining room. “It is a rather tall task to ask a small place like this to handle such a rush.”

“True enough, I suppose. One of the shortcomings of choosing a smaller place so close to the castle.” Fleur’s ears twitched again. She turned her attention to Fancy once more. “Speaking of, didn’t she say she would be ready soon?”

Fancy pulled a face. His horn wreathed in a navy glow as he levitated a pocket watch out of his jacket pocket. Taking a look at the face, he raised a brow. “It is about that time,” he muttered. “Though I was hoping we could at least eat first.”

“Yes, but you don’t want to keep her waiting, darling. I would imagine her schedule is quite full. Especially having to fill staff.”

“True enough,” Fancy said, sighing as he set his cup down on the saucer. “And she would so love to scold me for tardiness and go into her usual spiel on how I was always such a nice, responsible colt. I swear, the mare thinks she’s my mother.”

Her? Her who? Rarity glanced between her friends and longtime financiers, her eyes narrowed. Friends and generous financiers they were, but Fancy Pants was well known for his eccentricities. And Fleur was all too happy to enable her beloved. What sort of game were they up to this time?

It was high time she got some answers. This coyness surrounding her impending meeting with his “contact” had gone on far too long.

Rarity set her cup down and folded her hooves neatly in her lap. “Pardon me, Fancy Pants,” she began, “but why is it we need to rush if the city is so crowded? And just what staff is this nameless contact of yours trying to fill?”

He returned her gaze with a million-bit smile. “Now, Rarity, my dear—“

“Don’t you ‘now, Rarity, my dear’ me,” she cut him off. “I know what that means coming from you.”

“What?” Fancy tried his best to look innocent. He failed miserably.

“Every time you start with that, you’ve come up with some ‘surprise’ that you blindside me with and send me off to deal with while you smile and hum foals’ tunes to yourself.”

“But you can’t deny I always have your career in mind when I do it.”

“My career, yes. My sanity?” Rarity arched a brow. “Doubtful.”

Again, Fleur snorted. “I’m afraid she’s caught onto your games, darling. I warned you about your little penchant for mischief.”

Fancy Pants pouted—he actually pouted! A stallion of his age, stature, and wealth! Pouting like a foal! What was this world coming to? “It’s not a penchant for mischief,” he retorted. “I’m a forty year old stallion with money and far too much time on his hooves. I’m allowed to be a little eccentric.”

“Of course.” Rolling her eyes, Fleur twisted his ear. “Why don’t you be eccentric while leading our dear Rarity to her meeting before she explodes with sheer curiosity? “ She released her grip, then turned to nod to Rarity. “I’m afraid I can’t spoil the surprise. Knowing that mare, she’s right in line with it.”

Rarity’s ears twitched. “That mare? What—but why would somepony?”

Fleur held up a hoof. “If there’s anything I can tell you about her, it’s that you’re about to meet the one pony in all of Equestria more eccentric and given to games than my beloved. Despite that, she is a good pony. One of the best Equestria has ever known.”

“Truer words have never been spoken!” Fancy chimed in. He rose from his seat, dotting Fleur with a kiss. “You’ll be all right with the fillies, dear?”

“I think we’ll be just fine.” She smiled at Sweetie and Scootaloo. “If we finish lunch before you return, ice cream might be in the cards.” As their ears stood up and eager grins spread across their faces, she added, “If they behave, of course.”

The pair sat upright and folded their hooves on the table, smiling brilliantly at the Prenchmare. Rarity could almost see faux halos hovering above their devious little heads.

As her mother would say, those halos were being held up by Discord’s horns. Rarity rolled her eyes. “Just don’t give Sweetie too much, or she’ll get sick. Again.”

“Rarity!” Sweetie squeaked, her cheeks colored a deep pink. “I do not!”

Scoffing, Rarity stood and walked around the table to stand with Fancy. “My old rug says otherwise. Behave, both of you. I shouldn’t be too long.” She stole a look to her friend. “As far as I know, at least.”

Fancy simply smiled and lit his horn, opening the wrought iron gate that led to the cobblestone path. He gestured for her to follow. “Come along, Rarity,” he said, trotting briskly toward the castle. “I do believe my friend should be ready for you.”

“Fancy…” she said slowly, “is your friend meeting us by the castle gate?”

His smile only broadened. Fancy faced forward and chuckled. “You could say that.”

Something about his tone made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Rarity fixed him with a critical stare, but followed along all the same. Fancy Pants’s games were tiresome, that much was true. But he was right.

He always had something in mind that helped her career along.

Rarity willed every cell in her body not to allow herself to faint or topple out of the lovely cushion she was sitting in, lest she crack her chin on the solid oak table that sat before her.

Fancy had lied. His contact, the mysterious mare he and Fleur referred to, hadn’t met them at the castle gate.

No, no. Her guards had. In fact, they waved him in with a smile and sent word ahead to their Captain—the actual Captain of the Royal Guard of Canterlot—so he could fetch Princess Celestia for her one o’clock appointment.

The realization hit her like a piano falling out of a pegasus moving wagon. She was Princess Celestia’s one o’clock appointment. Rarity sucked in a deep breath through her nose. “Fancy,” she hissed.

“Hmm?” He stopped humming long enough to raise a brow in her direction.

“If I make it out of this, I want you to know that I’m going to wring your neck.”

Fancy grinned. “Why, what ever for, my dear?”

Her nostrils flared. “Oh, don’t you even take that faux innocent tone with me, Fancy Pants! You know very well why!” She stole a quick glance toward the door to check for any sign of the Princess. None yet. Rarity turned back to Fancy and leaned in, her eyes flashed dangerously. “If I’d have known you were planning to have me meet with Princess Celestia herself, I would have spent quite a bit more time on my mane and coat! Not to mention I could have picked something to wear!”

“Well, to be honest, that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

Rarity’s ears stood up straight. “Excuse me?”

His grin didn’t fade a fraction. “Let’s just say I’ve had many a conversation with Princess Celestia about this opportunity and how I feel that you’re the best pony to fit the bill. She wants to meet the real Rarity—you’ll find Her Highness can be rather funny with regard to some of her requests.”

“Funny, am I?” a mare’s voice called, tinged with amusement. “Is that so, Fancy?”

Rarity nearly leapt up from her seat to face Princess Celestia. Her jaw dropped. The Princess was quite a bit taller than she appeared from afar. Her coat was a pristine, gorgeous white that seemed to shine with the touch of sunlight, her magnificent rainbow mane flowed as she strode toward them.

Rarity worked her mouth wordlessly, fighting against her treacherous throat tightening despite her want to make a good impression.

“Your Highness,” Fancy greeted smoothly. He stood and bowed low. “Thank you so much for seeing us today. The coronation was lovely, of course. I hope Princess Twilight wasn’t too flustered.”

Princess Celestia smiled. “Remind me to tell you why we were late once we finish. It’s quite the tale.” Her brilliant purple eyes narrowed. “But don’t change the subject, my sweet, young colt. I still remember a certain student who was caught lobbing water balloons at little Fleur de Lis when he was younger …”

“I’m sure I’ve no idea who that colt might have been. He sounds like quite the rogue. I hope you disciplined him properly.”

“Naturally. Funnily enough, you both share similarities.” She looked up at the ceiling as if in deep thought. “In fact, I believe his name was—”

“Might I introduce my associate,” Fancy cut in before she could finish. He gestured to Rarity. “This is the mare I’ve been telling you about, Your Highness. Rarity of Ponyville.”

Rarity barely managed to swallow down a squeak as those ancient eyes turned upon her. She gave a shaky bow. “H-Hello, Your Highness,” she greeted, cursing her tongue. What a first impression. Stammering before the Princess of the Sun. Truly, her place was at the top of Canterlot’s elite.

“The pleasure is mine, Rarity,” Princess Celestia replied with a nod as she took her seat across from them. “I’ve heard so much about you from Fancy Pants that I almost feel as though I’ve known you for years. Please, sit. We have much to discuss.”

They sat immediately. Rarity tried not to fidget in her cushion. Why hadn’t Fancy given her a warning?

“As much as I’d love to enjoy the usual banter, Fancy,” the Princess began, “I’m afraid I must ask that we get straight to business. Thanks in no small part to our newest princess’s … organizational skills—” her lips twitched “—I find myself a bit pressed for time in staffing certain positions.”

Fancy chuckled. “Bottom of the to-do list?”

“Three of them,” Princess Celestia corrected, rolling her eyes. “She kept adding things ahead of it.”

“Ah. Averse to making staffing choices, then. Or was she just busy with her other projects?”

“A little of column A, a little of column B. So it falls on me to fill the position for her. And if she doesn’t like it, she will, as the foals say, simply half to deal with it.” Fluffing her feathers, Princess Celestia turned to Rarity. “With that said, tell me a bit about yourself.”

This time, Rarity fidgeted. She licked her lips and pressed a hoof into the cushion. “Well, I was born and raised in Ponyville. My parents were involved in commercial farming, but my passion has always been more focused on dressmaking and fashion.”

“I see. What is it you like to do with your talents?”

“I love making custom dresses for formal events. That’s actually the main focus of my boutique,” she replied. “But I also enjoy some of the smaller community events. When I was a filly, I was always the first volunteer to work on costume designs.” A smile crept across her face. “There was just something about reading through old texts on culture and history to find accurate designs that captivated me. I wanted to bring the play to life so everypony could feel like they’d stepped into whatever time the characters lived in. The Hearth’s Warming Pageant was a favorite of mine.”

Chuckling, Princess Celestia nodded. “It’s one of mine as well. A lovely play, if I do say so myself.” She thought for a moment, almost as though she were making a few mental notes to a file. Her eyes flashed, attentive once more. She arched a brow at Rarity and tapped a hoof against the table. “I’m curious, though. Fancy tells me that you’ve stayed in Ponyville despite offers to fund a move to Canterlot. Would you mind my asking why?”

Why? Well, that question had come up before, but there was always an easy excuse. It wasn’t the right time, or she needed to get her name out there a bit more before she could commit. Not to mention, Sweetie Belle …

Rarity flicked the curls of her tail. “Each offer has been quite generous,” she said diplomatically, “but I find myself a bit attached to my home. And wary of leaving when I’ve only just gotten started.” Pausing a moment in thought, she added, “I suppose I’m also afraid that I’ll be unable to take the time to make custom ensembles if I go into a bigger market.”

Princess Celestia’s brows raised. “Oh? Pray tell, why is that a factor?”

“The bigger market or making custom dresses?”

“The latter.” Princess Celestia winked. “I think we can both agree that I’m well old enough to understand how different industries work.”

A blush arose in Rarity’s cheeks. “Right.” She coughed into her hoof, flicking an ear. “There’s just a certain feeling that comes with a project when a pony asks for a design and lets me play with things a little. I can take the time to measure the fabrics and find the right color combinations so I can create something meant just for them, something that will bring out a little of their personality others might not get to see.”

“Rarity made Fleur’s dress for the last Grand Galloping Gala,” Fancy Pants put in.

Rarity thought a moment, recalling the details of Fleur’s dress. It had been a surprisingly simple piece, with pink and white to match the Prenchmare’s mane and a long, flowing hemline adorned with lace trim. A burst of inspiration had driven her to make one slight addition to the ensemble.

Princess Celestia’s eyes lit up. “Ah, that was quite a beautiful dress. It went well with her mane, and I did love the way her cutie mark was used as a pattern in the lace.” She leaned forward, propping her chin on a hoof. “I wonder, was that something she asked for, or was that one of your additions?”

“One of mine,” Rarity replied. “I thought it might be a nice touch, and I felt it was subtle enough not to distract from the rest of the ensemble.”

“That was also the piece that convinced us to start backing Rarity,” Fancy said with a hint of pride in his tone. He casually removed his monocle and polished it with a cloth he procured from his jacket pocket. “Fleur fell in love with that dress the moment she saw it, and I had to appreciate the little personal touch you put in. I believe our backing has yielded profitable results for both of us.”

“And yet you bring her to me, my sweet colt.” Princess Celestia hummed a note, sitting up straight again. “You’re not trying to find some way to get dear Twilight’s ear, are you?”

Fancy snorted. “Your Highness, please. You know full well I’ve been friends with her parents for years. I hardly need to insert Rarity into her staff to gain influence.”

Laughing, Princess Celestia shook her head. “I suppose you’re right. Cheeky colt.”

Rarity looked between the two, furrowing her brows. A hint of unease crept into her chest. What had Fancy Pants just signed her up for? “Uh …”

“Banter aside,” Princess Celestia continued as if she hadn’t heard, “that is, perhaps, the most pertinent question I could ask. Though, directed at the wrong pony.” As she fixed her gaze upon Rarity once more, she almost seemed to loom over the table. Like a protective mother guarding her foals. Yet her expression never changed. “Tell me what we would talk about if I were to ask you to design a dress.”

Rarity blinked. “Excuse me? I don’t—what does that—how does that even answer your question?”

“I’ll explain in a moment. Now, I would like a dress. I’ve come into your boutique and have asked for an ensemble to wear to my niece’s birthday party in the Crystal Empire. What would we talk about?”

Rarity sat in silence for several seconds. She tried to consider the possibilities. A chance for a one-on-one meeting with Princess Celestia herself was an opportunity for which most ponies would happily trade a hoof. Why, she’d wager unicorns might even trade their magic! The ear of a Royal, the chance to influence policy and how bits were spent would be invaluable.

Invaluable to somepony looking out for herself.

If Princess Celestia should ever come into her boutique in search of a dress, she would come as a princess, of course, but, more importantly, a customer.

“I suppose I would begin by asking what sort of style of dress you’d prefer,” Rarity began. “I believe I read somewhere that Princess Cadence originally came from Istallia, so perhaps I could look through a few catalogues on Istallian fashion. Or Roaman, if you wish to bring a more classical feel to it.” Sucking in her lips, she looked Princess Celestia up and down. “On second thought, not classical. Classical Roaman would likely have you in either white or red for status—the former is fine, but it wouldn’t bring out your mane at all, and the latter, if you’ll forgive me, is right out unless I go with one of the darker tones to accentuate your coat.”

Princess Celestia’s smile grew to show her teeth. “That is something,” she purred. “Not influence? No attempt to capitalize on a few moments of uninterrupted conversation for personal gain, but business? You’re quite the interesting mare, Rarity.” Her eyes flitted to Fancy Pants. “And it seems your reputation is deserved.”

On cue, Fancy allowed a self-satisfied smile. “I told you,” he said. “She’d be perfect for it.”

“Indeed. I believe I’ve heard all I need.” With a sigh of relief, the Princess closed her eyes. After a moment, she opened her eyes, fixing Rarity with her full attention “I’m sure by now you’ve realized that this isn’t for the fashion industry,” she said.

Rarity gave a tight smile. “It did cross my mind.” Forcing a laugh that sounded more like a nervous nicker, she rubbed a hoof against her wrist. The urge to grab Fancy by the shoulder and haul him out of the room was nearly insurmountable. But she managed. “Though,” she began, “I’m not entirely sure what this meeting is for if not fashion.”

“Simple, really.” Again, the Princess leaned forward, steepling her hooves. “I require somepony who knows how to organize and maintain schedules, as well as dressing somepony of high status for important events. However, given the … individual she’ll be working with, this pony needs to have a firm hoof and willingness to give her charge a bit of a kick should she lose track of time because of her studies—not a word, Fancy. Not one.”

Wisely, Fancy Pants stayed silent. But that didn’t stop him from grinning and shaking his head.

Rarity bit her lip. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but this sounds like it’s one part personal assistant, one part foalsitting.”

To her surprise, Princess Celestia snorted. “Funny you should say it like that,” she said, grinning shamelessly. Her pristine white feathers fluffed like Scootaloo on Hearth’s Warming Day. Like she was the one unwrapping a present.

Why did Rarity get the feeling she was wearing a red bow atop her head?

“What do you know about the title of mare-in-waiting?”

Oh. That was why.

She fidgeted. “Er, well, it’s not really fashion industry …”

Princess Celestia nodded. “Indeed it isn’t. However, that isn’t to say you won’t have time to make dresses. I daresay you could make quite the name for yourself putting together ensembles for high profile events, and then move sideways into the industry if you chose to leave. Of course, I would offer my recommendation should you make that choice.”

Now there was something. A recommendation from Princess Celestia?

Put the crown of Queen of Fashion atop Rarity’s head and let her just relax in her opulent throne looking out over an empire clothed in the finest silks and colors. The world might as well be hers.

But only if she could do the actual job well.

Still, it was an opportunity. An opportunity that could mean something more. The world could well and truly be her oyster.

“It’s not what I expected when I came to Canterlot,” Rarity said, “but mother always said opportunity presents itself in unexpected ways. I would be happy to serve as your mare-in-waiting, Your Highness.”

“While I’m happy to hear you say so, dear, I’m afraid you won’t be my mare-in-waiting.”

Rarity’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. “I won’t?”

Those ancient purple eyes shone with mirth. “I’m afraid not. Though I daresay we’ll see plenty of one another—should you still wish to accept, of course.”

“I—pardon me, I must have misunderstood.”

“Oh, no, that’s my fault. I didn’t explain clearly. Only referred to in passing. I do that when I’m setting up to teach a lesson to one of my students, especially those nearest and dearest to my heart.”

Rarity blinked. Her mind slowly worked back through the conversation, piecing together the puzzle. It clicked. Her jaw dropped. “Oh. Oh!”

“Oh, indeed,” Princess Celestia said with a nod. “Since she’s neglected to do it herself, it falls upon me to pull double duty: appoint her a mare-in-waiting and remind her just why she shouldn’t dally on the homework I give her.

“Assuming you choose to accept my offer, you will serve as Princess Twilight Sparkle’s mare-in-waiting. I wish you nothing the best of luck, young mare. You may very well need it.”

Author's Note

Face it, eccentric Fancy is best Fancy.

3. No Late Work Accepted

“I’ve apologized several times!” Twilight complained with a petulant stomp of her hoof. She directed her most pathetic pout, wide eyes shimmered and her lower lip quivered, it was certified capable of reducing even the most steely of Princess Celestia’s guards to a remorseful, hesitant mess at twenty paces!

Unless, of course, that guard in question just so happened to be immune to it after years of overexposure. Or related to her.

Shining was both. He stood in the middle of her room, his white coat a stark contrast to the soft purples, blues, and magenta that decorated the walls and curtains, and leveled her with a flat look, his brow arched until it disappeared beneath his bangs. “You promised that you wouldn’t lose track of time,” he said slowly, in a tone eerily reminiscent of their father’s. “You told me you were just going to go read over your proposal one last time, then you’d come back straight away. I figured you’d be an hour at most, more than enough time!”

Twilight bit her lip and let her gaze fall to his hooves. Her wings rustled awkwardly. “Would it help if I said I’m pretty sure it’ll go through this time?”

He sucked in a sharp breath, but hesitated. Then he sighed. One of his hooves left the floor, no doubt to rub the bridge of his snout. “Twily, I love you like no other, but sometimes you drive me to drink.”

“I love you too, B. B. B. F. F.,” she said in a rush.

Shining heaved another sigh. “What am I going to do with you?” he groaned.

“Love me? Hug me? Tell me that I’m your favorite princess not named Cadence and let me live this one down? Just this once?” Twilight looked up and aimed her most dazzling grin at him.

A snort of laughter made her heart leap. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, a fond smile played upon his lips. It worked!

Shining chuckled to himself and walked over, he caught her in a firm embrace. Then he leaned down to whisper, “Not a chance.”

Whining, she pushed against his shoulder. “Shiny!”

“Nope! You’re gonna hear about this one for a long time! Cady’ll make sure of it too,” he added, waggling his brows. “Speaking of, she was asking how you were getting on with your other pre-coronation assignments.”

Her ears twitched. Twilight squirmed out of his embrace and skittered a few steps away. Her lips twisted into a nervous, half-smile, half-cringe. “I’ve, uh, got most of it done,” she waffled, sidling over to her desk and rifling through a few papers resting at the very center. In perfect position, as always. “I’ve got my … I can’t really call it a palace, but residence picked out.”

“Papers will call it your ‘seat of power,’” he quipped. Shining sidled over so he could glance over her shoulder, and promptly wrinkled his snout when he saw. “Okay, I know you’ve got your heart set on Ponyville, for whatever reason—”

“It’s got significant historical importance among the farming communities in the southern province!” Twilight cut in hurriedly.

Rolling his eyes, he said, “Right, right. Still, you picked a library in a tree? Kind of a rinkydink setup, don’t you think? Especially given you’re all about research and education.”

Beaming, she turned and rolled up the parchment he’d been reading from. “Exactly!” she chirped, lightly thwapping him on the nose. “It’s perfect!”

“I’m sorry, what?” Shining rubbed his nose, his brows knitted together. “Am I missing something here? Because that seems like the opposite of perfect.”

“It’s perfect,” Twilight repeated with a stern look, “because I can get a chance to help develop the education system. Bring it up to snuff so the ponies in farming communities can compete if they choose to relocate, or just help make things better for them. Innovation on the farms, bringing a bit of efficiency to some of those old ways of doing things! And it all starts …” She fixed him with a self-assured smile and inclined her brows, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

Again, he rolled his eyes. “With education,” he intoned with all the enthusiasm of a bored school foal. “Yes, I’ve heard that pitch many a time. Not that I disagree. I’m just saying, a princess living in a library?”

Twilight waved him off. Honestly, why did he have to focus on such inconsequential details? It wasn’t like anypony but Celestia or Cadence had any real power to tell her off for her choice—and neither had issue when she mentioned taking residence in Golden Oaks Library before.

But that was just how his mind worked. Always poking at holes in her logic so it wouldn’t come back and bite her later. Instead, he’d just toss it at her now.

His own special version of “tough love.”

Shining hummed and tapped a hoof against the floor. “So how about the rest of it? Guards?”

“In Ponyville? Please. And it’s not like I’ll need them. I had the best teachers in the land.” Pausing a beat, she added, “And the ones from school.”

“True enough. Transition with local government?”

“I’ve already arranged for other towns to come visit so we can iron things out, and I’m speaking with Mayor Mare as soon as I get to Ponyville.”

Snorting, Shining raised his brows. “Mayor Mare? I pity her. Wonder what her first name is.” Before Twilight could reply, he asked, “How about your mare-in-waiting?”

Twilight sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth, abruptly turning her eyes to the page. “Um … I’ve considered the prospect of, uh, considering it,” she said, tapering off into a mumble.

“You’ve considered the prospect of considering it?” he repeated, his voice tinged with amusement. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a grin spread across his face. His horn lit pink, a tendril of magic snaked its way toward her desk. “So if I were to check your to-do lists, how far down would that be?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Shiny no!” she cried, leaping between her brother and the desk. “Those are mine! Those are for my personal use! Not for sharing or teasing!”

Too late! His magic plucked several pieces of parchment from her desk, each labeled “To-Do” with various months and weeks scribbled across the top, and snatched them out of reach before she could even make to grab them. They zipped over to float before Shining, orbiting his head like thin, rustling planets. All the easier to read.

He hummed a few bars, raising a brow and smiling as he skimmed each of her lists. His lips tugged wider and wider until a toothy grin nearly split his face. “Considering the prospect of considering it,” he repeated a second time, flipping the pages around for her to see the neat, orderly list at the top.

And then the mess of scribbles, notes, and various insertions at the bottom. Specifically, all right before ‘Pick a mare-in-waiting.’

“You put it at the bottom of each of them,” he said, “and then kept adding things so you’d never get there. Considered the prospect, my cutie mark! You’re avoiding it!”

She quailed beneath his gaze. “No I’m not,” she mumbled, averting her eyes.

“Really? Then you’d be happy to explain why ‘organize quills and inkwells’—” he pointed at the to-do list for last week “—deserved a fast track on the priority list?”

He had her. Both of them knew it full well.

Twilight rubbed her shoulder and mumbled something incomprehensible about the importance of good desk organization and how no sane mare could ever have too many quills or inkwells in her study. Or her nightstand. Or her special desk in the Royal Archives, for that matter.

Naturally, Shining didn’t buy it for a second. He brought a hoof to his forehead and sighed, gently floating the pages back to rest on her desk. “That must be why she was grinning like a fox in a henhouse,” he muttered.

Twilight jerked her head up, her ears stood erect. “She? She who?”

“Celestia. Caught her grinning and fluffing her feathers like Cady when she’s got some couple all matched up, pretty as you please. Rubbing her hooves, too.” He gave a wry smile. “For a second, I thought it was something I did, but then I heard something about meeting a mare for a staffing position after your coronation. Two and two is four.”

Her mind went into overdrive. A hundred different scenarios flashed before her eyes, each worse than the last. Had Celestia been angry at first? Frustrated? She hadn’t shown any such signs in the weeks before the coronation, or even when she came stumbling in after Shining’s teleport spell.

A cold shiver ran down her spine, though. Celestia had a certain way of ensuring she learned never to neglect assignments, no matter how inconsequential she might find them.

No late work accepted. That was her rule. And if Twilight failed to turn in her assignments, she had to explain why.

It only happened once. That had been more than enough until today. Twilight rustled her wings. “Did she seem angry?” she asked as if she were a filly afraid their mother had found her up late reading the night before school again.

Laughter rumbled forth from his chest. His cerulean eyes shone with amusement. He swished his short, scruffy tail and made to reply.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself,” a familiar voice whispered in her ear.

Yelping, Twilight spun on her hooves and found herself met with those ancient purple eyes she knew all too well, she was nose to nose with Celestia herself.

The Princess of the Sun fixed her with an amused smirk, arching her brow as she stood to her full height and looked down upon her favored student. She hummed and swished her ethereal tail. “Well?” she teased. “Don’t you have something to ask me, young mare?”

Though there was no hint of anger or sternness in her tone, Twilight felt her ears burn. “Um, well,” she mumbled hesitantly. “I was going to get to it soon?” she offered.

“Were you now?” Celestia clicked her tongue. Her smirk spread into a slow, playful smile. “Well, I’m afraid I must count this work late, my dear. And you know my rule for late work.”

Of course she did. Twilight ducked her head, a low whine sounded from the back of her throat. One strike, she was out.

Celestia chuckled. With a merry fluff of her feathers, she summoned a cushion and gestured for Twilight to sit with her. “Come,” she said. “I think it’s time we discussed the ramifications of your tardiness, dear.” As Twilgiht approached, Celestia took a lid gracefully onto the cushion, leaving just enough room for Twilight to join. “Oh, Shining?”

Twilight heard his armor shift as he snapped to attention. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“If you wouldn’t mind getting with Cadence regarding our youngest princess’s impending move, I’d like you both to escort her to her new home in Ponyville by the end of the week. Just to ensure she finds everything she needs.”

“Of course, Your Highness. Right away.”

Ancient purple eyes flashed with mischief. “Shining,” she chided, “what have we discussed?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight saw him pin his ears. “But I’m on duty,” he mumbled in protest.

Her smile gained teeth. “Say it.”

Shining’s alabaster cheeks flushed pink. “Yes, Auntie Celestia,” he said at last, “I’ll get right on that.”

“Much better.” With a nod and a wave, she dismissed him from the room. Then she returned her attention to Twilight, her eyelids lowered to fix her with a hooded look. Celestia gave a low hum. “Before I inform you of the, ah, ramifications of your actions,” she began, “tell me, why did you willfully neglect to search for a mare-in-waiting? Or at least ask for input into the matter?”

Twilight felt soft downy feathers trail along her back as a powerful white wing wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her in for a tight embrace, one that doubled as silent warning that there would be no squirming her way out of a reply.

Trapped. Well and truly trapped beneath the wing of the ancient Princess, and pinned beneath an unwavering gaze rivaled only by the Sun’s glow. Both teacher and immortal.

Licking her lips, Twilight looked down at the purple cushion. The seam, at least, would not stare at her with such all-knowing eyes. “W-Well, I will admit that I developed a bit of a case of tunnel-vision,” she stammered. “Most of my time has been devoted to my funding proposal, so I’ve been putting things off. Namely, um, that.”

“I’m shocked,” Celestia mused, her tone suggesting quite the opposite. “And why did you keep pushing it off for less important things?”

She ducked her head. “Because I figured I could just leave it to later. It could be handled after I moved, I thought.” Or never.

“Despite my insistence that you name or begin searching for candidates before this very day, terms which, if you recall, you agreed to.” If Twilight hadn’t known any better, she would almost swear it were Cadence in Celestia’s place. Who else could wear a smile with such dangerous amusement? “Would you like to offer a reason why?” Celestia asked. “Or should I simply chalk this up to the rebellious phase of a young alicorn?”

Twilight wilted at her words. Celestia knew which buttons to press. But then again, so did Twilight. “I didn’t realize alicorns had rebellious phases,” she noted, turning her best scholarly interest look upon her old teacher.

Celestia’s smile wavered, a flicker of something new emotion flashed in her eyes. Not interest or a want to educate, but something … melancholic. “Oh, yes,” she said softly, “a young alicorn can be very rebellious. Yes, she can.” As quickly as it came, it was gone. Her smile returned like nothing had happened to dim its light. She arched a brow and reached out to boop Twilight’s nose. “No changing the subject, my dear student. Share your reasoning.”

For a moment, Twilight thought to keep prodding, but bit back her questions. If Celestia wanted to put something aside, nopony could convince her otherwise. With a resigned sigh, she averted her gaze. “I didn’t think a mare-in-waiting was necessary—I still don’t,” she said, flicking her tail.

“And why is that?”

“Because I can buy dresses and do my own mane for myself,” Twilight grumbled much like a preteen the night before her first dance. “And I don’t need some mare poking and prodding me to follow my own schedule!”

Celestia laughed, a sound as sweet as a warm summer day. “Says the mare who deliberately shoved an assignment under the rug,” she teased, “and was late to her own coronation.”

Heat arose in Twilight’s cheeks. “Th-Those are isolated incidents!”

“Oh, hardly, my dear.” Again, she booped Twilight’s nose. “But teasing aside, you’ll find as I did that you will need somepony to help steer you along to keep appointments. As for dressing, well, I must confess Raven is my guiding light when it comes to making impressions. Think of it more as a constant friend, if you will. One there to help you make everything flow smoothly.”

“A friend I have to pay.”

“A friend the State pays, yes. But a friend nonetheless.” Humming, she turned toward the door. “In fact, I believe that’s the perfect segue.”

Twilight’s ears twitched. “Wait, what?” A chill crept into her chest. She knew that look. She knew that tone! “What did you do?”

The gleam in her eyes seemed to shine like the very sun she raised and set. “No late work accepted, Twilight,” she repeated. “I’ve appointed one for you.” Before Twilight could even think to protest, Celestia called, “You may come in now, Rarity.”

The sound of hooves clip-clopping on the tile floor and then thumping when they transitioned to carpet made Twilight turn to face the newcomer. Her heart promptly skipped a beat, then hammered in her chest. Her breath caught in her throat.

The mare’s coat was stunning. A beautiful, pristine white as flawless as fresh-fallen snow. Regal purple locks flowed into splendrous curls that bounced with every step, and those in her tail with the slightest sway in her wide hips. Sunlight seemed to wander through her mane and down her body like delicate hooves, eager to caress and explore her form—from slender shoulders to the trio of baby blue diamonds adorning her flank.

Or her eyes.

By the sun, moon, and stars, her eyes.

Glittering sapphires pierced through Twilight’s very being, into the depths of her soul. As if this pony, this Rarity—such a fitting name for a gorgeous mare!—could read her like an open book.

Twilight’s tongue felt like sandpaper. Heat billowed beneath her cheeks and slowly spread throughout her face, and down her neck. A not-so-small part of her wondered if she’d preened well enough that morning.

Maybe she should’ve taken a bit more time to brush her coat too.

“Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia said, “I’d like to introduce you to your mare-in-waiting, Rarity of Ponyville. Rarity, I’m sure my student needs no introduction.”

Rarity gave a dazzling smile and tittered. A chorus of bells and singing birds filled Twilight’s ears—be still her beating heart! “Oh, certainly not, Your Highness,” she said, her voice as sweet as honey and warm as freshly brewed tea. When her eyes fell upon Twilight again, the youngest princess felt her heart leap into her throat. “I daresay you’ve made quite the impression on everypony today, Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight blinked several times. “I, uh, thanks,” she mumbled. Stupid tongue! Of all the times to go numb, why in front of such a beautiful mare?

Somewhere, she was sure Cadence was laughing herself silly. Or gleefully rubbing her hooves. Possibly both.

To her left, Celestia chuckled. “Well, why don’t I leave you two ladies to get acquainted?” With a quick nuzzle to Twilight’s cheek, she released her embrace and rose. She rustled her wings, then trotted for the door, sparing a slight nod to Rarity as she passed. “I’m afraid I have a few things to attend to as well. Issues with my old friends in the dragon territories and their stargazing. If you’ll excuse me.”

She trotted from the room without a backwards glance, the sunny golden glow of her magic engulfed the door handle and tugged it shut behind her, leaving Twilight alone in her study with Rarity.

Alone with the most beautiful mare she’d ever laid eyes on.

Her mare-in-waiting.

Tea was a wonderful way of relieving tension. There was just something therapeutic in the tried and true process of heating water, choosing a flavor, and waiting for the teapot to whistle on the stove. It also gave Twilight a much needed chance to hide her face, a chance to battle back the blush that worked its way across her treacherous cheeks and let her focus on something other than the unparalleled beauty of a mare sitting just a few steps behind her.

“Pardon me for being presumptuous,” Rarity said, “but isn’t making tea supposed to be my job as mare-in-waiting?”

Twilight had to bite her lip. She quickly ran through a few thaumatological theorems in her head and willed her feathers not to fluff, no matter how that lovely voice tickled and played in her ears. Aloud, she said, “We’ve only just met, and I’m technically hosting you right now.” A small part of her wondered if it might be a bit too much to offer to send for cookies or sweet cakes with white and purple icing.

Probably. And Cadence would see fit to send for a string quartet, or something silly like that, if she ever caught wind of it.

A shrill whistling made her ears twitch. It was ready. With a deft flick of a tendril of magic, she levitated the teapot off the stove and lifted the top so she could slip a premade packet of Earl Neigh into the steaming water. Then, summoning a pair of cups and saucers, spoons, and condiments, she trotted over to join Rarity at the round table in her humble sitting room.

“I hope you like Earl Neigh,” she mumbled hesitantly as she laid everything out at the center, and set about pouring Rarity’s tea first. “It’s my preferred brew, but I could always send for something else if you like.”

Rarity accepted her cup with a smile and a nod of thanks before spooning a bit of sugar and pouring a splash of cream into her tea. “Earl Neigh is perfectly fine with me, Your Highness. In fact, it’s my favorite as well.”

Beautiful and sharing her tastes? Twilight jotted that down in her mental notes and began making a file on the mare. No. A file cabinet. Schooling her expression, she managed to limit herself to a tiny smile rather than the goofy grin that threatened to tug at her lips. “Well, that’s a relief. I won’t have to wonder if you’re forcing sips for my benefit.”

A scandalized look crossed Rarity’s face. “I wouldn’t—I mean, you shouldn’t feel obligated to appease me, Highness. I’m the mare-in-waiting here!” She brought a hoof to her chest for visual aid. “I’m here to make things easier on you!”

Twilight winced. So much for humor. “Well, I’d like you to be comfortable while you’re in my employ,” she replied. Thinking on it a moment, she added, “And please, call me Twilight.”

“But—”

“As a personal favor,” she continued, holding up a hoof to forestall Rarity’s protests. Though it did pain her, just a little. She rustled her wings. “Calling me Highness or Princess makes me feel like you’re looking for Celestia or Cadence. I grew up just Twilight and, I know it won’t be the same for others but … I’d rather somepony outside my family treat me like the filly I grew up as. A friend.” Or more. More would be nice too. “If you’re willing.”

Rarity paused a moment to take a contemplative sip of her tea, her mouth set in a line. “I suppose I can understand what you mean,” she muttered after some thought. With a single nod, her smile returned. “Very well, Twilight. I’d be happy to be your friend as well.” She waggled her snow white ears. “I’d be happy to help you with some of Ponyville’s more, ah, rustic traditions, if you’d like. As well as the rest of Harmony Province.”

Twilight’s ears perked up. “I’d like that a lot, actually. I’ve sort of set a bit of an agenda for what I hope to do with the province.”

“Oh? What did you have in mind?”

Candlelit dinner and a walk through the Royal Gardens with a beautiful mare, but that could go in the file for later. Twilight glanced over her shoulder toward her study, where her funding proposal lay on her desk. “One of my primary objectives is furthering education,” she said. “I’ve spent most of my time securing funds for improvements in libraries, research facilities, and school systems across the land. I’d like to find a way to do so in Harmony Province, but I’ve heard the system is a bit …”

A slender brow arched. “Bare bones?” Rarity supplied.

“I was trying to think of something a bit less condescending, but yes.”

“Your effort is much appreciated. But, you’re not wrong.” With a chuckle and a shake of her head, Rarity continued, “Most of the province is like Ponyville—education up to early teens, then into trades and apprenticeships involving one’s cutie mark. If they’re lucky enough to find somepony who shares the knowledge. For others, I believe the term is ‘the good ol’ ponies system’ that takes care of things.”

Twilight leaned forward, setting her teacup down on the saucer. Her mind raced at a mile a minute. “Tell me more. How does that work?”

Rarity turned her teacup about in midair. “I can only speak from experience, but for me, it came from friendship with the Apple family, who in turn have an old business friendship with the Rich family.” She gave a snort of laughter. “Mister Rich, in turn, is very well connected with Fancy Pants and Fleur de Lis, so he helped arrange for me to meet them so I could show original dress designs off.” With a half shrug, she added, “It can be a bit tiresome and difficult if one isn’t social, but it worked out well for me in the end. I mean, that’s how I ended up here!”

“So it would seem.” Idly, Twilight added ‘connected to Fancy and Fleur’ to her growing file. “They’re wonderful ponies. Fancy used to tell me stories when I’d wait for Celestia to finish with her meetings so we could have our lessons.”

“A most wonderful stallion, if a bit eccentric.”

“Ha! That’s an understatement! Does he play his half-information game with you too?”

Gasping, Rarity reached across the table and took Twilight’s hoof in hers. A jolt ran up the youngest princess’s leg. “Twilight, darling,” she breathed, “I never thought I would say this, but I have found my soulmate in suffering Fancy’s whims. Truly, we are a match made in heaven.”

This time, Twilight didn’t bother trying not to fluff her feathers. Like Cadence meeting a new couple, she fluffed and rustled her wings. “Perhaps, it’s fate then,” she quipped. “Like a second cutie marking, no?”

“It seems so.” After a brief pause to sip at her tea, Rarity asked, “So how did you plan to go about changing the system? I hope you don’t mind my prodding, but tradition is rather important to them. Getting them to modernize at all might go at a rather glacial pace, which I do say with love for my hometown.”

That was certainly news. Twilight hummed to herself and tapped her hooves on the table, her wings folded neatly at her sides.

How was she to bring an entire province so steepled in the old way into the modern age in terms of education? From what she knew, they still forbade spells to perform Winter Wrap Up!

She just couldn’t imagine it. She didn’t understand it.

She didn’t understand them.

Rarity, on the other hoof, did.

The gears began to turn in her head, a slow smile spread across Twilight’s face. She could have her cake and eat it too. After all, there was a beautiful mare sitting right across from her, one who knew plenty about the ponies of Harmony Province and already worked for her.

She would be a fool not to seize the opportunities so neatly laid out for her.

“With great care,” Twilight replied.

Rarity’s brows disappeared beneath her bangs. “Oh?”

“Yes. Far be it from me to ignore tradition, but I would like to improve on things where I can. If possible, I’d like your input on this. And any ponies you think might have insight.”

“In that case, I’d be happy to offer any assistance I may. On top of my other duties.”

Such a generous mare. “Would you like to go out to lunch sometime,” the words flowed forth from Twilight’s mouth before she could stop herself, “just to get to know one another a bit more. And … celebrate a, ah, new friendship and business relationship?” Inwardly, she winced at her slip up. She could almost kick herself.

“I would like that,” Rarity replied, much to her relief. “Although, I must confess, I may have to beg Fancy and Fleur to watch my charges for the evening.”

“Charges?”

“My sister and her little friend. Lovable fillies, really. But they can be a bit—” she rolled a hoof in a forward circle “—excitable. And I’d hate to have them bother you with their chatter, Twilight.”

“No, please,” Twilight said with an eager grin. “Bring them. I don’t mind at all.”

Blinking, Rarity arched a brow. “You’re certain?”

She bobbed her head. “Of course. I mean, you’re going to be working for—with me now. I imagine I’ll be seeing quite a bit of your little sister, so I’d like to meet her as well.”

“Oh! Well, when you put it like that, I’d be delighted. When were you thinking?”

“Er, did you have plans with them? I’d hate for you to cancel.”

“They wanted to see a bit more of the city this evening, since we were supposed to leave tomorrow.” She wrinkled her snout, her brows knitted together in thought. “Though, I suppose I’ll have to send them home and find lodging for myself, given that you’re not leaving until Friday.”

Find her own lodgings?

Twilight shook her head. That simply wouldn’t do. “Don’t spend any more of your bits on a room. You can stay in one of the guest rooms here,” she said firmly. “I’ll arrange it. And one for the fillies as well.”

“I—but—Your Highness, this is most generous, but—”

“Twilight,” she reminded Rarity with a smile. “And don’t fret. Your job may be to make things run smoothly and comfortably for me, but there’s no reason I can’t do the same for you. After all, you’re not just my mare-in-waiting.” Her feathers fluffed again.

“You’re my friend.”

4. Luncheon With a Princess

Wump-wumpf-creak! Wump-wumpf-creak!

“Wahoo!”

“These beds are awesome!”

Rarity’s ears twitched, her lips pressed into a thin line. She blew out an angry breath through her nose, glaring at her own reflection in the mirror. A brush hovered near her mane, held aloft by a sapphire glow and frozen in mid stroke.

They’d been jabbering and chattering like a pair of excited chipmunks since the moment two Royal Guardstallions knocked at their hotel room door just a couple short hours before. With a brief salute, the ranking stallion informed them that they’d been given orders to assist them in moving to their new accommodations. Provided by Her Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle, with the blessings and support of Her Majesty, Princess Celestia.

That alone had been enough to make Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle turn and stare in slack-jawed awe, waiting for an explanation. A state which, mercifully, had persisted the duration of the journey from the hotel to Canterlot Castle, as if they expected it all to be part of some elaborate ruse that ended with the three of them simply escorted to the train station by a pair of Royal Guard lookalikes.

When Princess Celestia’s longtime seneschal, Raven, greeted Rarity by name and informed them that their room had been prepared, the questions came in earnest, her sister’s squeaky babbling and Scootaloo’s raspy whispers filled her ears. A never ending stream that left her no reasonable chance for reply until Raven showed them into the room.

Form there, all interest in questioning had gone by the wayside in favor of every elder sibling’s least favorite portion of any trip: exploration and play.

Exploration through a suite in the heart of Canterlot Castle, and play with things that most certainly didn’t belong to them.

Wump-wumpf-creak! Wump-wumpf-creak!

Her right eye began to develop a twitch.

“If I have to tell those two one more time,” she hissed as though it would reach the fillies’ ears through the bathroom walls and door, “I’m going to scream. And then I’ll have to explain to Princess Twilight why she needs to bail mare-in-waiting out of prison.”

Wump-wumpf-creak! Wump-wumpf-creak!

That did it!

Rarity grumbled a few choice words under her breath and jammed her brush back into her toiletries bag. Then she turned sharp on her hooves, giving her tail an irritable flick that snapped at the air before storming out of the bathroom. Her mane coat bristled, she fixed the pair with a venomous glare that made them both freeze in mid bounce and fall back onto the bed they were sharing with a dull wumpf and squeak of the springs.

If she weren’t so annoyed, she might have taken a moment to appreciate her glare’s effects.

She sucked in a breath through her nose. “You two,” Rarity ground out through gritted teeth, “are going to stop fooling around this instant, or I swear the first thing I do when we get home is march down to Cheerilee’s house and demand she give both of you double homework for the next year!”

With a pair of strangled squeaks, the fillies leapt off the bed as if it had burst into flames. Then they defaulted to their tried and true defense—matching pouts and big watery eyes.

“Please don’t tell Miss Cheerilee!” Scootaloo cried, her wings flared out and ready to buzz for an escape route. “She’ll give us math homework ‘till my feathers turn gray!”

Her sister, however, favored the more dramatic route, much like herself. Sweetie Belle dashed forward and latched onto Rarity’s right foreleg, her hooves locked around the knee. “We won’t bounce again! Honest!” she warbled. Her lip quivered ever so slightly, just enough to make Rarity’s gaze falter just bit.

Rarity bit her lip and glanced over at a painting of Mount Canterhorn in midsummer. A show of weakness. A fatal mistake every big sister knew to avoid.

All the room Sweetie needed. Lowering her voice, she pressed her cheek against Rarity’s knee and rubbed against it. Her coat was as soft as a newborn chick’s fluff. She mumbled, “We were just excited because it’s such a nice room. We weren’t going to break anything.”

A low groan rolled from the back of Rarity’s throat. She closed her eyes and sighed, fighting against her own mind’s eye as it conjured up an image of herself as a filly, caught red-hooved by her parents next to a smoking, sputtering sewing machine and a mess of fabric strewn about the room. One of her very first attempts to make a costume for the school play.

Her ears still burned at the memory of that particular scolding. Sewing machines weren’t cheap, especially for their parents at that time. The harvest hadn’t been as strong.

With a heavy sigh, Rarity patted Sweetie Belle’s head with her free hoof. “I know, Sweetie,” she said. “And I know you might not mean to break anything, but that’s why they’re called accidents. I think we all can admit that you two have a rather sordid history with such things, can’t we?”

Streaks of pink bloomed across their little faces. Scootaloo looked down at her hooves and scuffed them against the tile floor, her ears pinned flat. Sweetie was simply content to bury her face in Rarity’s kneee again. Though not quite before Rarity caught a glimpse of a smile.

Aha! And lo, the mischievous fillies realize themselves. A knowing smirk tugged at her lips. Game, set, and match, the elder sibling claimed victory once again.

Rarity lit her horn and gently disentangled Sweetie’s limbs from her leg, then she levitated her sister off the ground to hover just a few short inches from her face. “I’m not saying you girls can’t have fun, Sweetie. But we’re in Canterlot Castle, in a room provided by Princess Twilight, no less.” She fixed her sister with a meaningful look before floating her over to rest beside Scootaloo so she could speak to them both at once. “I should think it best that we not spend our first night in such accommodations explaining how we broke castle property. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The color drained from their faces. “Yup!” they squeaked.

“Precisely my point.” Giving them a small smile, she released Sweetie from her levitation spell and cantered over to stand with them. “Now, with that in mind, I just want you to behave for a couple of days, girls. You may ask questions and play, but don’t go running off without me or start bouncing off the walls.”

“So …” Sweetie began. “No Crusading?”

Rarity gave a bell-like laugh. Then stopped to glare at both of them. “That word,” she hissed, “does not enter your heads again until we are back in Ponyville proper. Are we clear?”

They sat down so fast and hard their rumps thudded against the floor. “Crystal!” they replied in unison.

Excellent. There was one dilemma out of the way. Still, it left another: the inevitable questioning.

True to form, Sweetie recovered first. Her fearful tremble and wide-eyed stare faded away. In its place, her lips curved into a contemplative frown, her nose scrunched up in a way that would make adults the world over croon and whisper about what an adorable little filly she was.

Rarity, however, felt an odd shiver travel down her spine. A need to flick her ears and tail joined it when she noticed the way her sister’s brows knitted together as if she were considering a math problem.

For all her complaints about schoolwork, Sweetie Belle could be quite adept at problem solving. Just not the sort that would appear on Cheerilee’s homework sheets.

“Come to think of it,” she said slowly, looking down at the floor as though it held all the answers, “you never explained why we have to stay in Canterlot for two extra days.”

“Yeah!” Scootaloo chipped in. After a second thought, she added, “Not that we mind you sending a letter to Miss Cheerilee that we wouldn’t be back for the rest of the week, but you still never told us why. Please don’t send us back early. We’re missing a math test and I need the weekend to study.”

Again, Rarity flicked an ear. She frowned. “And just when is this test you’re missing?”

She could almost read “oops” right off of Scootaloo’s face. The pegasus gave a raspy chuckle and smiled. “Today?”

“So, when I asked if you two had schoolwork you could be doing on the train ride up or when we settled in for the night and you said no, you were lying to me.”

Sweetie raised a hoof. “Actually, I did all my review homework. And I know my multiplication tables.”

One out of two, then. Rarity sighed and brought a hoof up to massage the bridge of her nose. That was going make for a fun conversation with Scootaloo’s parents. Perhaps she could schedule a root canal for afterward just to round out her day. “You had best score well on that test, young filly,” she groaned. “Because if I hear anything about poor grades from your parents because of this trip, I promise, you won’t like the consequences.” Satisfied that she made her point, Rarity returned her attention to Sweetie Belle, who still had that look on her little face. Heaving another sigh, she waved a hoof. “Fancy Pants’s contact yielded results. As of now, I have a new job.”

“Oh!” Snow white ears perked up. Sweetie gave her powder pink and purple tail a merry swish. “A commission, you mean? For a dress? But why does that mean we’re staying longer? And here?” She waved at the room around her. “Like … how?”

Rarity bit back a rebuke for her verbiage. Instead, she shook her head. “Not a dress commission, Sweetie. A job. I’ve taken a new position. An …” How to express it properly? “An unexpected change, yes. But one that may help me in the future.”

Her sister’s jade eyes lit up. “How so?” Sweetie pressed.

“And you’re still not telling us how it landed us here,” Scootaloo added.

“Er …” Rarity offered a nervous smile in turn. If there were ever a way to set the fillies into a tizzy, it was telling them about her new job. Then again, not telling them would do just about the same. Why hadn’t she thought of a better excuse? Maybe something like Fancy setting them up on some surprise castle tour for the week, then spring it on them when they returned home.

If only she should be so lucky that such a thing would work. Darling though they were, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo often chose the worst moments to be perceptive.

A hoof rapped thrice upon the wood door. Rarity flicked her left ear and let a grin spread across her face. “Hold that though,” she said, shamelessly triumphant to stave off the inquisition just a little while longer. “Coming!” she trilled, trotting over to the door with her head high and a pep in her step that set her curls bouncing. Wrapping the door handle in a shimmering sapphire glow, she tugged it open to reveal a mulberry coated chest. Then her vision tracked up the pony’s neck until she met a familiar face. “Helloooo—P-Princess?”

A pair of purple eyes blinked twice. Princess Twilight Sparkle furrowed her brows and tilted her head, her neatly brushed, tricolored mane spilled over her shoulder. “I thought we discussed not calling me by title,” she said, before turning to a burly white unicorn stallion with two-toned blue mane that Rarity hadn’t noticed at first. “I didn’t overlook some obscure rule about that when I told her so, did I?”

The stallion chuckled, a light rumble that rolled forth from his chest. “No, Twily. If you gave her permission, she can call you by name.” He cast a playful wink at Rarity, his eyes shimmered like a running river. “Probably surprised you didn’t send for her again.”

“Ah! Right.” Twilight’s cheeks colored. She gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that, by the way. I don’t mean to set a precedent with that, but Celestia asked me to help her gather a few star charts. Something about a meeting with the wyvern ambassador coming up.”

“Nothing too serious,” the stallion said smoothly.

Rarity nodded. “Oh, well, that’s good.” Furrowing her brows, she looked the stallion up and down. She’d seen him before. Somewhere. “Pardon me. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. My name—”

“Rarity,” he cut her off with a dazzling smile. “Twily told me about you. It’s nice to meet the mare who gets to join us all in suffering my baby sister’s eccentricities every day.”

Twilight aimed a glare at him. “I’m right here, you know. And I can get you in trouble for those remarks now.”

His smile only grew. “You could.”

“Jerk,” she shot back without malice. Then she turned to face Rarity with a smile. “This is my older brother, Shining Armor. Captain of the Royal Guard, and Princess Cadence’s fiancé.”

If her heart leapt any further, Rarity was certain it would jettison forth from her mouth and dance a jig on the floor. The hits just kept coming! “Oh. Um, well! Very nice to meet you, Captain,” she demurred with a little bow of her head. “I’m sure it’ll be a pleasure working for your sister.”

He gave another rumbling chuckle. “Just Shining is fine. I’m on my break anyway.” He stole a glance over her shoulder and waggled his ears. “Hiya, kids!” he greeted. “How do you feel about lunch?”

Oh. Right. The fillies.

Rarity sucked in her lips. She turned slowly, cringing as she found herself met with matching stares and slack-jawed gaping once again. Forcing a smile, she gave a weak laugh.

“You work,” Sweetie began.

“For Princess Twilight?” Scootaloo finished.

Shining Armor burst into laughter. “You didn’t tell them? You had all morning and you didn’t tell them?” he said between breaths. “Oh, this is great! You two are gonna get on just fine!”

Rarity heard Twilight groan. “Could we please drop that? Let’s just go for hayburgers. I could eat a cartload.”

Yes. Hayburgers. Those would be nice. Big, juicy hayburgers that could easily be crammed into inquisitive little fillies’ mouths to forestall any—wait a moment.

A princess eating hayburgers? Surely she wasn’t serious.

Twilight had been completely serious.

Rarity moved as though in a daze, a prisoner within her own body as she watched the newly crowned Princess Twilight Sparkle chatter away with her brother, then turn to answer any and all questions Scootaloo or Sweetie Belle spouted off, all while standing in line at a Hayburger Shack.

First hayburgers. Then a fast food “restaurant” smack dab on the corner of Bridle Lane and Canter Court that was literally called The Hayburger Shack. There was even a playground with a ball pit for the little foals.

“I’m in Tartarus,” she mumbled. “I’ve offended the princesses somehow, and I’ve only just awaken. And now I’m in Tartarus.”

A tiny hoof prodded her knee. She looked down and was met with a stern glare through jade eyes. “Rarity!” Sweetie hissed, bobbing her head at the counter. “It’s your turn to order! Stop spacing out!”

Ordering. Right. Rarity gave an award cough and rattled off a request for a small order of hayfries, a single, and a cup of water. The food in Canterlot was quite exquisite, but a bit on the heavy side at times. She certainly hadn’t accounted for fast food in her meal plan, either. Indulging royalty, it seemed, was going to ruin her carefully crafted diet.

A drawback to be sure. But did it really outweigh the benefits? As Princess Celestia said, employment by the Royal Family would do wonders for a pony, regardless of field. What were a few extra fast food meals here and there?

The thought brought a smile back to Rarity’s face, and a pep to her step as she followed Shining and Twilight over to a large table on the far side of the dining room. All five sat down, though Rarity made sure to get eye contact with the fillies and motion that they stay standing until the princess sat.

Casual setting or not, some proprieties had to be observed. And, by Celestia’s crown, she would see it done.

“So,” Shining began, “how’re you three liking the city so far?”

“It’s been really fun!” Scootaloo chirped, wings buzzing merrily. “Fancy Pants and Fleur de Lis showed us around the first couple days! We went to the Wonderbolts’ Canterlot Air Base! And they even let us inside to see some of the old training equipment and uniforms from retired members!”

“And a few current ones,” Sweetie put in. Her lips curved into a knowing smirk. “Namely, the one you never shut up about. What’s her name again? Rainbow Bash? Clash? Rash?”

Scootaloo fixed her with a scathing glare. “It’s Rainbow Dash, you smart-aleck,” she spat, her nostrils flaring. “How in Equestria can you spout sync—sync—words that mean the same thing—”

“Synonyms,” both Sweetie and Twilight supplied. The filly beamed at the newly-minted princess, like a student eager to please her teacher.

A look, Rarity noticed, brought a happy fluff of those mulberry feathers. Fitting, she thought, given her interests.

“Yeah, those,” Scootaloo said with a nod. “But how come you remember those, but not the name of, like, the best flyer in the world?”

Sweetie simply shrugged. “I’unno. Must’ve just slipped my mind or something.”

“I tell you about her all the time! We were just talking about her yesterday!”

“Were we?” Jade eyes sparkled. She shot a sidelong look in Rarity’s direction and winked. “Silly me.”

Oh, dear. Rarity hid a smile behind a sip of water. With a shake of her head, she turned her attention to Shining Armor. “You must be proud, Captain Armor,” she simpered, eager to steer the conversation elsewhere. “I’d imagine it must be quite the feeling to see your sister ascend. And at such a young age, no less.”

“Just Shining,” he corrected around a mouthful of hayburger. Once he swallowed, he added, “Yeah, we’re all pretty proud of Twily, Mom and dad have been full on waterworks since the day it happened.”

To his left, Twilight snorted. “So were you, mister ‘liquid pride.’”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “That so? It’s funny, ‘cause I don’t think mom wailed or hugged me that much when I graduated from the Academy a couple years back.”

“Oh, shut up! You’re exaggerating!” she protested. Her ears drooped as the blood rushed into her cheeks and colored them a deep purple. “She did not! She most definitely did not!”

“You sure?” Shining’s eyes gleamed. His lips curved into a slow, wicked smirk. “Because I now she did. And I at the house last night when she and dad were looking through the album, and you’ll never guess which pictures we stumbled up—mph!” He was cut off as an ethereal raspberry snapped around his snout, forcing his jaw shut like a muzzle. But his smirk only grew.

Twilight’s horn glowed bright, though not nearly as much as the blush spreading down her neck. She pursed her lips, which only served to make her look more adorable than stern. In Rarity’s opinion, at least. “Don’t. You. Dare.” she hissed.

With a waggle of his ears and a flash of pink, Shining Armor dispelled the magical muzzle and resumed eating. Though he did start humming a light, happy tune, and aimed a cheeky grin at his seething sister.

Twilight muttered something unintelligible under her breath, shaking her head. “Please don’t mind my big brother, he loves to tease me. Even though I’m technically his boss now.” Before he could add a comment, she shot him a warning look. “Anyway,” she ground out, turning back to Rarity again, “I was hoping we might take a little time to get to know each other. Yesterday was …”

“Hectic?” Rarity offered.

“I was going to say surprising, but hectic also fits nicely.” Rustling her wings, Twilight unwrapped one of her hayburgers—one of three.

Three hayburgers for one pony. With three large orders of fries and a “Princess Size” fountain drink, which looked more like a beer mug her father once brought back from Germaneigh.

Rarity could almost feel her blood sugar levels rising by proxy. Not to mention her cholesterol.

Twilight followed her gaze, fidgeting in her seat. “I have to eat a lot,” she said as if reciting from a text. “Alicorn metabolism is higher than a normal pony’s, so … yeah.”

“Oh. I never imagined. Good to know.” With an awkward cough, Rarity opted to nibble on a fry to buy herself a few seconds to think of something else. Anything else. It was time to go fishing. “Well, what sort of things were you looking forward to seeing in Ponyville, Twilight?”

Blinking, the princess swallowed a bite of hayburger and licked her lips clean. Any awkwardness between them seemed forgotten in an instant. She hummed, twitching her feathers in thought. “Well, I’ve done a little bit of research on the town itself, namely the founding. So I suppose I’d like to meet the Apple family.” She tilted her head. “Is it true that Smith Apple is still alive?”

Rarity tittered. “Call her Granny Smith,” she corrected. “She insists that Ponyville is extended Apple family, and there’s nopony alive who can change that mare’s mind.”

At her side, Scootaloo snorted her soda. “Understatement!” she sputtered through choked laughter as Sweetie Belle thumped her back.

With a sigh, Rarity floated a small stack of napkins over to the pegasus. “Manners. As I was saying, I’m sure Granny Smith would be happy to meet with you. She still tells stories about the original meetings between the Apple family and Princess Celestia.”

“Really?” Mulberry ears perked up. Twilight looked about as if searching for something, frowning when she didn’t find it. Then, her horn flashed, and a small spiral notebook and pencil popped into existence. The pencil danced across the page, jotting down a quick note. “That sounds like something I’ll have to hear for myself. Though it does explain why Celestia is so adamantly against Lord Blueblood’s proposal that tax breaks for farmers be removed to grant more to real estate.”

Shining let out a bark of laughter. “I forgot about that one! Old stallion Blue never was the sharpest quill in the well. Hopefully Junior brings a little decency back to the house when he takes charge.”

Twilight gave him a tired smile, but didn’t contradict him. Instead, she just carried right on. “Meeting the Apples is a must, then. And organizing things in the library I’ll be staying in. Golden Oaks Library, I believe it’s called. I hear it’s a lovely place.” With another flash of magic, her quill and notebook popped out of view. She grinned and gave a little squeal. “Is it really inside a live oak tree? Like that old fairytale?”

Old fairytale? Rarity chewed the inside of her lip in thought. Not one she was familiar with, at least. “Yes, Golden Oak Library is right. It’s a lovely little place, really.”

“I’m sure.”

“Miss Cheerilee has us borrow books from there for our reports,” Sweetie put in. She took a quick sip of her milkshake, then added, “We actually just had one a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh really? How was that?”

“Not too bad. I found everything I needed for mine real easily. Got an A on the report, too.”

Scootaloo blew a raspberry at her. “That’s ‘cause you read way too much.”

“Or,” Sweetie shot back with a sidelong look, “because you don’t read enough. Or do your schoolwork on time. Ever.”

“Hey! I do too!”

Arching a slender brow, Sweetie nibbled on a fry and asked, “What’s five times nine?”

“Five times … hang on.” Her face screwed up, Scootaloo gave her wings an irritated buzz. “Uhhh … thirty? No, wait! Thirty-five!”

Sweetie Belle’s smile turned sickly sweet. “Forty-five.”

“Whatever,” Scootaloo scoffed. “I’ve got plenty of time to pick it up before the test.”

A spark of anger leapt into Rarity’s chest. She eyed the pegasus filly with a stern frown, flicking her tail at the display of such uncaring attitude and blatant disregard for responsibility. And in front of Twilight, no less. Why, she was half a mind to give Scootaloo a good piece of her mind! But, alas, that wouldn’t leave the right impression. Sighing, Rarity resolved to address the issue later. She turned to speak to Twilight again.

Only to find both princess and guard captain fixing Scootaloo with rather stern gazes. Shining stole a glance to his sister, then met Rarity’s eye. He gave a barely perceptible nod to Twilight, inclined his brows, then took a bite of his hayburger and settled into his seat as if he were about to take in a show.

Twilight furrowed her brows. “You shouldn’t take such a haphazard attitude toward your studies,” she scolded. “Multiplication might seem like silly nonsense when you’re learning it, but it’s actually very important in all walks of life. Paying bills, determining equal shares, sales tax, far too many things to count, really.”

“Well, yeah, but …” Scootaloo had the grace to look a bit cowed by her words. “I mean, I’ll study and all. It’s just … we’re not taking the test until Monday.”

“Now tell her when the rest of the class is taking the test,” Rarity retorted without even thinking. She promptly sucked in her lips, hiding a laugh as best she could when the little filly turned and fixed her with a look of utter betrayal. Oh, well. In for a bit. Raising her brows, she nodded. “Well?”

Biting her lip, Scootaloo glanced at Twilight and gave a nervous laugh when she noticed the princess’s eyebrow slowly arching. “Uh … tomorrow?”

Twilight sighed, bringing a hoof up to massage the bridge of her snout. “Rarity?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“Would you consider it intrusive of me to insist that I take charge of quizzing the fillies until we get to Ponyville? Think of it as repayment for you altering your schedule on such short notice.”

Sweetie made a sputtering noise. “But I already know my multiplication tables!”

Twilight smiled sweetly. “Then our session should go by very quickly, wouldn’t you say?” Without waiting for response, she turned to Rarity again. “Only if you’ll allow it.”

Now, there was an idea! Rarity hummed, grinning at each filly in turn. They met her gaze with wide eyed stares, silently pleading her to spare them. She could almost read promises to behave like perfect little fillies from now until the end of time straight off their foreheads.

Unfortunately for them, she had three days with them in Canterlot before this.

“Not at all, Twilight. We wouldn’t want their parents to scold them for slacking while on break, after all.”

“Quite right.” Smiling brilliantly, Twilight did a happy little shimmy in her seat. “Don’t you girls worry. By the time I’m through with you, that test will be a snap! In fact, we can start now.” She rose, levitating her food and drink. “Rarity, would you mind switching seats with me?”

Her decision didn’t even take a second. With a happy little hum, Rarity rose from her seat, taking her food as she trotted around to take Twilight’s former seat by Shining Armor’s side. She made sure to meet the fillies’ eyes and give her brightest smile as Twilight sat down between them and wrapped her mulberry wings around them before launching into a lecture. Those brilliant violet eyes were alight with a sense of vitality and genuine joy. Happy to teach.

At Rarity’s side, Shining chuckled. “You two are going to get along just fine. I can already tell.”

5. The Princess in Ponyville

Friday came all too quickly for Twilight’s taste.

Canterlot was her home, her birthplace. Her parents’ modest two-story house on Stardust Lane tugged at her heartstrings, even though she was but a short flight away. There were nights she still missed her small room with its soft purple walls, two bookshelves that were filled to the absolute brim with books, a six drawer wooden dresser with a scorch mark on one side (an unfortunate accident from a teleportation spell when she was twelve), and single bed. All of it just felt so right.

Not that she looked at Canterlot Castle any less fondly, of course. Celestia and Cadence had done their best to make her feel welcome there over the years, after all, it would be her home away from her seat of power whenever she came to visit. Her bedchamber with its massive bed, mattress as soft as cloud fluff, countless pillows and comforters that seemed woven from happiness itself, high windows and Prench doors that led out to a splendrous balcony was always a welcome sight after a long day’s work of researching in the Archives, or her study. The latter of which she had on good authority was better stocked than some school libraries.

She would miss her two homes so much. But then there were all the things she loved about her city. All the staff and guards she’d seen in passing every day for the past ten years, the ponies she met in passing on the street, her classmates—oh, she’d so miss study sessions with Moondancer! Hopefully the poor mare could find somepony else to debate magical theory with. Or maybe a nice mare, her own Rarity.

Twilight would miss it all. All those familiar sights, sounds, and smells that made Canterlot home.

Ponyville would be perfectly nice, of course. Quite lovely, even. Rarity, the fillies, and even Celestia herself assured her of that. “It may seem trite to say,” Rarity had told her, “but Ponyville has a very rustic allure, brought on by a very close-knit community. I think you’ll find it quite refreshing.”

Perhaps she would. But Ponyville, no matter how alluring it might be, would never be like Canterlot. It just wouldn’t. How could it?

It just wouldn’t be the same. Only when Twilight stood on the platform in the middle of Canterlot Station, wrapped in Twilight Velvet’s iron embrace, with a gray muzzle buried in the crook of her neck and tears staining her mulberry coat, did that realization hit.

And, by Celestia’s crown, did it hit like somepony had dropped Mount Canterhorn squarely upon her back.

Night Light stood just out of hoof’s reach, an amused smile played upon his navy blue lips. “Velvet, honey,” he chided with laughter tinging his voice. “You’ve been hugging her plenty long, don’t you think? Care to let the rest of us have a turn?”

Twilight Velvet’s embrace tightened in answer. “No,” she replied testily. “This is my little filly! I’ll hug her as long as I want, and nopony can tell me otherwise!”

Just a few paces behind Twilight, Shining snickered. “C’mon, mom, you’ve gotta let go sometime. We’re going to miss the train if you keep this up.”

“Royal train,” she shot back without looking up. “They’ll wait for their new princess until she’s ready to embark.”

They would, of course. Twilight hugged her mother tight and laid her chin upon her shoulder as she clenched her eyes shut. Tears welled up and stung, threatening to cascade down her cheeks.

She held them back, but only just. Sniffling, Twilight pried her hooves apart and drew back, gently pushing Twilight Velvet so their eyes could meet. The sight of her mother’s gray cheeks stained a dark pewter sent a pang through her chest. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Celestia standing with a pair of guard escorts, her lips curved into a small, but sad smile of her own as she laid a hoof upon Rarity’s shoulder and offered a few muttered words of advice. And of course Cadence stood with Shining, both smiling and answering any questions Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle could think of, but a quick look showed a hint of a droop to their ears. Ever so often, Cadence would steal a glance toward Twilight and let her smile falter just a touch.

Everypony was happy for her, but each wished they could keep her close. Much as it was always hard to see Cadence and Shining leave for the Crystal Empire, to remain for nine months out of the year.

Why did they have to hold different seats of power?

Twilight returned her gaze to her mother. “I’ll write often,” she said, loud enough for everypony to hear. “I promise.”

“Please do,” her mother choked out. She gave a tight-lipped smile. “Or I’ll come down there and ground you. In your room. In our house. For a month at least.”

Night Light let out a bark of laughter. “You can’t ground her! She’s a grown mare!” he teased.

“I can and I will!”

Rolling his eyes, he nodded. “Of course you can, honey.” He grinned. “Would you mind releasing her so I can say goodbye as well? Or am I still on the wait list?”

Twilight Velvet lifted her head and turned to fix him with a glare that could’ve curdled milk, but did little to diminish his amusement. All the same, she kissed Twilight’s cheek, then released her from her embrace and gave a little nudge toward Night Light. “Go give your father a hug,” she said, with just a hint of irritation to her tone. “Before he starts bellyaching about his foals not loving him as much as me.”

“Oh, how mature,” he quipped back, then, waggling his brows, he stuck out his tongue and crossed his eyes.

Laughing, Twilight trotted over to her father and stepped right into his waiting hooves. She wrapped her hooves around his neck, snuggling into his warm embrace. “Bye, dad,” she whispered.

“Have a safe trip, Twily,” Night Light said softly. She felt his lips press against her forehead. “And do write often, or I just might come down with your mother. Only I’ll bring the foal pictures.”

“Jerk,” she retorted with a smile.

After a moment or two to share a nuzzle, they parted. Night Light spared a nod before he sidled up to Twilight Velvet and wrapped his wife in a comforting hug, ever her emotional rock when she needed support—be it when Shining left for his first assignment, or when her youngest foal finally left the city.

Which gave Twilight the chance to trot over to Celestia, her knees quivering like jelly and feathers twitching anxiously as she waited to be addressed. She felt like the little filly walking into the exam room for the first time all those years ago. Back when she was but an eager, nervous student, worried that she wouldn’t pass the entrance exam, and then a quivering basket of nerves when her little magical outburst earned her and her parents a trip to Celestia’s office to discuss her future. Her future as Celestia’s personal student, that was.

Celestia turned to face her at last. Those deep purple eyes shone with pride, but with an underlying hint of sadness. More restrained than Twilight Velvet’s, yet …

It carried so much weight. Twilgiht couldn’t deny there was a small part of her wanted nothing more than to latch onto one of Celestia’s legs and beg her to reconsider and let her stay.

But she held strong. Even as her nose stuffed up and tears made her vision blur, she blinked them away and forced a watery smile.

Celestia closed the distance between them. Mighty hooves with the strength to pound boulders to dust swept Twilight into a warm embrace, leaving her hooves to dangle several inches off the ground as she let out a surprised squawk.

“Prin—Celestia?” Twilight yelped, only just catching her mistake before she could commit.

“I’ll miss you dearly, Twilight,” Celestia said just barely above a whisper. She took a deep breath, her shoulders tensed and feathers twitched. Her wings looked as though they were folded tighter than the Royal Treasury’s vaults. “But you’re needed elsewhere, where your talents and leadership can make a true impact on ponies’ lives. And you need to have the chance to do so, to rule without—” she faltered for a split second, just enough for Twilight to notice “—without me. Without me looking over your shoulder. You need room to grow and blossom into the princess I know you can be.” She pulled away so she could meet Twilight’s gaze, pride shone naked in her eyes. “I have full confidence in you, my favored student.”

Her words struck a chord deep within Twilight’s chest. The young princess had to brush a hoof across her face to chase away a bout of fresh tears, she nodded once. “Thank you,” she whispered, leaning in to nose against her longtime teacher’s chest. “I won’t let you down.”

Celestia chuckled. “I don’t doubt that. But don’t worry about letting me down, dear.” Her smile faded into a stern, regal mask. “Worry about meeting our subjects’ needs now.”

The weight fell upon her once again. Twilight swallowed. “Of course. I’ll do my best for them.”

“Good mare. And do feel free to come visit whenever you like, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how much your parents and I would love to have you home.”

They shared a smile and one last squeezing hug before Celestia placed Twilight on the ground again and waved her toward the train car.

Twilight trotted dutifully over to stand by her brother’s side, smiling as Rarity sidled up to her before she turned to nod to Shining. “I think that’s everything.”

“Good.” Shining bowed to Celestia, then gave a wave to signal the conductor. He made a big circle and pointed forward, military signage for “go.”

“Safe travels, everypony,” Celestia said. “Cadence, you and Shining will be back on Sunday?”

“Yes, Auntie.” Cadence gave her head a little bow, then caught Twilight’s eye and winked. “See you in the car, Ladybug.” Turning to the fillies, she herded them through the open car door, saying, “Why don’t we continue this when we get to our seats? You can tell me more about your ‘crusading.’”

Smiling fondly, Celestia shook her head. “Rarity?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Twilight saw those ears, as soft and white as snow, perk up. “Yes, Princess?” Rarity replied with a demur bow of her head.

“Look out for my former student, please. I leave her in your care.” Mischief danced in those ancient purple eyes. Celestia cast a wink at Twilight. “Perhaps remind her to write her poor, aging teacher once in a while.”

Rarity let out a bell-like laugh that sent a wave of fuzziness through Twilight’s belly. “Oh, I’ll be sure to do that, Princess Celestia. She’s in good hooves.”

“Excellent. Have a safe trip, ladies.”

Twilight bowed to Celestia, then motioned for Rarity to lead the way into the car. She paused long enough to give one final smile and wave to her parents before turning to follow in her wake. She clenched her eyes shut, pointedly ignoring the sting of renewed tears as her hooves thudded against the wooden floor. With a flick of her magic, she shut the door behind her and flipped the lock.

Then she stood stock still. Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach, her ears lay flat as the train’s whistle sounded its song—a farewell that felt too chipper. The train jostled and sent her stumbling against the wall. Twilight braced herself with one hoof a mere instant before her forehead hit. She didn’t move, she didn’t raise her head. Her control broke at long last, hot tears flowed down her cheeks like the cascading Rainbow Falls.

A gentle hoof touched her shoulder. She jerked her head up, sniffling as she met a pair of dazzling sapphire eyes.

Rarity stood before her, a small, supportive smile upon her lips. Purely by trained reflex, Twilight straightened up and stood to her full height. Idly, she noted that her mare-in-waiting’s forehead only just came up to her chin. She made sure to file it in the cabinet she was keeping. A smaller mare, she noticed, would fit just perfectly wrapped in her hooves and wings.

“Would you like a moment alone?” Rarity asked as she floated a hoofkerchief and offered it to Twilight.

Sniffling, Twilight accepted the hoofkerchief and took a moment to dab at her eyes. She took a deep breath to compose herself, then shook her head. “No. No. I’ll be okay.” With a little fluff of her feathers, she gave a thin smile. “Let’s go sit with the others.”

“Or course, Princess.” Rarity stepped to the side and held the inside door open for Twilight. “After you.”

“Thank you.” Twilight took two steps, but stopped halfway through the door. Her eyes narrowed, a wry smile played upon her lips. “You’re using my title to distract me.”

Those gorgeous sapphire eyes shone more beautiful than the stars themselves. Rarity fluttered her eyelashes and swished her tail, sending those magnificent curls on a merry little bounce.

All the answer Twilight needed. With another shake of her head, she allowed the smile to spread across her face as she stepped through the door.

Playful distractions to lighten the mood of those around her, and small enough to fit perfectly in my hooves she thought. Another note for the cabinet.

The train ride to Ponyville was pleasant enough.

With Shining Armor and Cadence sitting on the cushion beside her, and Rarity directly across where she could keep a weather eye on the fillies, Twilight sat and played casual bystander to the conversation as it jumped from school to Shining’s work as a guard to life ruling over the Crystal Empire.

Twilight ignored the part of her that told her to remind Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle to study. Though her feathers twitched and her lips pressed together when the cocky little pegasus reclined and scoffed when Rarity mentioned reviewing over the weekend, her heart simply wasn’t in the right place. It was back in Canterlot, and growing further away with each passing second.

She could watch it and calculate rate, time, and distance while she let her eyes wander over the rolling green pastures and tilled farmland racing by her window. Her tail flicked, her lips tugged into a frown. “Fifty-three point four seven miles,” she muttered.

Fifty-three point four seven miles. Unless she was wrong in her estimation of the train’s velocity. In which case, it could be a couple miles farther or shorter, give or take.

Sixty-five miles. The full distance between Canterlot and Ponyville—or, more aptly, the distance between everypony she grew up with and herself, would be sixty-five miles. Just over an hour by train, two or three by flight depending on how fast a flyer made the trip.

With a heavy sigh, Twilight closed her eyes. She tried to assure herself that it wasn’t so terrible. She could easily fly to her parents’ house for dinner on the weekend, or take the train up for an official visit to Celestia whenever she needed advice. What was an hour or two or three?

Longer than she ever had to wait to see them before, that’s what, the more cynical part of her noted. In Canterlot, Celestia was but a short trot away unless she was stuck in some diplomatic meeting—and only then if it were the yaks or the dragons’ emissary. And, of course, she could be at her parents’ house in under ten minutes if she flew. Or she could enjoy a leisurely walk through her old neighborhood and smile at all those old faces of ponies she grew up seeing every day.

Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. Twilight let her ears droop as her gaze fell to the floor. Maybe she should’ve taken the time to consider the ramifications rather than burying them beneath work, or putting it off to the very end of her to-do list.

She rose from her seat. “I’ll be right back,” she said in a rush, turning to walk down the aisle.

Cadence’s hoof caught her shoulder before she could pass. “Are you okay, Twilight?” she asked.

Twilight forced a tight smile. “Just need to go to the washroom for a moment. I’ll be right back.” She turned her shoulder so she could slip out of Cadence’s grasp, then hurried down the aisle with her head low and ears pinned. She didn’t want them to see her face.

She didn’t look up until she slipped inside and locked the door. Twilight took two deep breaths, then slowly sat down, her knees shaking as she lowered her rump down to the cold wooden floor. She glanced up at the small mirror fixed to the opposite wall.

The mare staring back at her didn’t look much like a princess. She looked more like a lost little filly trying to play dress up, and happened to wander into the middle of court when everypony was waiting for the real princess to step onto the dais.

Was that all she was? A filly playing dress up, complete with crown and matching regalia that gleamed like the midday sun? The real princess had even seen fit to assign her a more beautiful mare to play her mare-in-waiting—a mare who radiated confidence and real world talent, no less.

Somepony knocked thrice upon the door. “Twilight?” Rarity called, her melodious voice muffled by the wood.

Twilight sniffled, hastily wiping her face and taking a shaky breath to compose herself. “Yes?” she choked in reply. Cursing, she turned on the faucet and stuck her hooves under so she could splash a bit of water in her face. Something to wash the tears away, and maybe make her eyes a little less red. “What is it?”

“I wanted to check on you,” Rarity said, dropping her voice just enough that it could sound through the door. “May I come in?”

The lost little filly liked that idea very much. In fact, so did the nervous twenty year old princess who felt her heart sinking deeper and deeper into the pit of her stomach with each mile added to the distance between herself and Canterlot.

Her horn sparked to life. A raspberry glow engulfed the doorhandle and popped the lock, she pushed it open just a crack. The soothing sapphire glow of Rarity’s magic wrapped around her own like a warm blanket, gently prying the handle from Twilight’s grasp so she could pull it fully open.

Rarity gazed upon her through those beautiful sapphire eyes, the concerned frown still gracing her lips made Twilight’s wings rustle. She almost wanted to force a smile, if only to see if it might appease her newest friend. Before she could, Rarity slipped inside with all the grace and poise of a cat, then shut the door behind her. She sat down opposite of Twilight, with her back resting against the far wall.

A small smile spread slowly across those her delicate features. “You seem frightened,” Rarity said.

Twilight gave a mirthless laugh. “I feel like a filly on her way to her first day at Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. At this rate, I’ll start crying like I did the first night I slept in the castle,” she confessed, burying her face in her hooves. “You must think I’m such a baby right now.”

Her mare-in-waiting clicked her tongue. “Hardly, darling. It’s only natural. I felt the same way when I first moved out.”

“Really?” Twilight brought her hooves down so she could peek over them. She wrinkled her snout and flicked her tail, then slowly placed her hooves on the floor. “Sorry, but I just can’t picture you being anything less than ready for such a change. You seem so … I don’t know. Like you have everything in your life in order.”

Sapphire eyes went wide. Rarity let out a snort, then abruptly covered her mouth to withhold a laugh. “Me? Oh, heavens, Twilight! You saw me with the fillies!” She shook her head, her lips tugged into a rueful grin. She cast a glance around the washroom as if she half expected somepony to come jumping out of the waste bin, then lowered her voice to a whisper, “If I must be honest, I should admit that I bawled my eyes out the first morning I made breakfast in my new home.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not. We live in the same town, I could literally canter down the road and walk into my mother’s kitchen any time I wish. But I broke down crying that morning because she wasn’t there to whisk the pancake batter like she always had when we made breakfast together before.”

“Well. I hope you don’t mind my saying, but that does make me feel a little better.”

“Why would I mind? It was meant to.” Rarity inclined her brows. Her smile showed teeth. “If I can’t tell the princess I’m going to work for that I cried my eyes out over pancakes in the middle of my brand new kitchen, then what is this world coming to?”

A laugh bubbled forth from her chest. Twilight covered her eyes, fluffing her feathers as she shook her head at the sheer absurdity of the question.

The train lurched and jostled. The crackling of the intercom clicking on tickled her ears and made them twitch. “We’re making our final approach to Ponyville,” the conductor called. “Everypony please take your seat until we come to a complete stop.”

Rarity stood first, taking a moment to dust herself off before offering a hoof to Twilight. “May I help you up, Princess?” she demurred, her eyes shone with a teasing light.

Twilight fixed her with a stern look and accepted the hoof. “Keep that up, and you’ll find I can lecture a grown mare just as easily as I can pull two fillies into a tutoring session.”

Those eyes sparkled, sending a pleasant shiver that made her primaries bristle.

“Of that, I have little doubt, darling.”

And curse that gorgeous, lovely mare for using that word in a platonic sense. Twilight grudgingly slipped it into the file cabinet, along with a far more happy note:

Rarity would be there to help her through difficult times, no matter how big or small.

The first thing Twilight did as they pulled into the station was look outside to see her new home. The station itself was small, and had only one platform. In fact, the building was entirely made of wood, typical of earth pony engineering in the Harmony Province, from what her research told her. But she couldn’t see anything beyond that.

There was a large crowd of ponies—earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi of all ages, sizes, and color—gathered to receive her. Some stood off in the grass, a few pegasi had brought clouds over while others chose to stand on the station roof itself! It was as if the entire town stopped to welcome her!

“Should I have brought my armor?” Shining asked as he rose from his seat. “I feel like I probably should have.”

Cadence giggled, fluffing her feathers. She pecked his cheek. “You should’ve thought of that before we left, you goofball.”

“What? I was busy dealing with mom bawling all night!” He flicked his shaggy blue tail and turned to Twilight for support. “Back me up here, you know how she gets!”

Twilight fixed a smile upon her face. She glanced at Rarity out of the corner of her eye and found the mare regarding her with a raised brow and bemused grin, waiting to see where she stepped. Or, more aptly, whose side she took—her fellow princess and former foalsitter, or her big brother.

Shining coughed. “Twily,” he drawled, tapping his hoof impatiently.

She gave her wings a nervous rustle. “I mean, she’s not wrong, but neither are you. So …”

“Always diplomatic,” he teased.

“But not wrong.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Shining shook his head, then offered his hoof to Cadence. “Time to go survey the platform, care to join me?”

Her brilliant purple eyes danced. “Aren’t you supposed to check before letting a princess like me know it’s safe to step out?” she asked with false innocence dripping from her every word. Then she unfurled her magnificent one pink wings and spread purple tinged feathers, an subtle bit of pegasus flirtation, and laid it across his shoulders, pulling him into a tight wing hug.

“Uh.” Shining glanced at his hoof, then her wing. “I’m supposed to escort you.”

Cadence fluttered her eyelashes and fluffed her free wing. “Adapt, Captain,” she purred. “I like this better.”

With a playful roll of his eyes and a warm smile, Shining led her down the aisle, leaning in so their shoulders brushed together with each stride. They stepped through the interior door, then turned sharply to exit the train.

The crowd began to cheer. A beige mare with graying mane stepped forward alongside an elderly mare of green-yellow coat and silvery mane who required a walker to move. Both wore smiles as they bowed to greet Cadence and Shining Armor, and moved to introduce themselves.

“That’s Mayor Mare,” Rarity whispered, gesturing toward the beige mare with a nod as she guided Twilight down the aisle. “The other is Granny Smith.”

“I’m surprised she’s up and about!” Scootaloo chipped in. “This is usually when she takes her midmorning nap!”

Twilight’s ears twitched. She looked back over her shoulder at the buzzing little pegasus. “Really?”

Scootaloo bobbed her head. “Oh yeah! By now, she’s usually out like a light!”

“Unless,” Sweetie Belle drawled with a meaningful waggle of her ears, “there’s something important going on, since she tends to think of herself as everypony’s grandmother.”

“Well, she’s old enough to be, soooooooo …”

“Good point.”

Twilight glanced between the two fillies, and then out the window. Her mind raced a mile a minute, her lips tugged into a small frown. She turned to Rarity and muttered out of the corner of her mouth, “I hope she’s not taxing herself coming out to see me.”

“Oh,” Rarity said, laughing and shaking her head. “Don’t you worry about Granny Smith, Twilight. She may look old and frail, but that mare could beat a timberwolf to splinters if she were so inclined.”

Blinking, Twilight stole another look out the window. Really? That little mare with the walker, who looked like she was straining to see a pair of ponies a mere two steps before her?

Before she could think on it for too long, Rarity nudged her shoulder. “Come along, darling. Your public awaits.”

Her public.

Twilight swallowed a bit of spit and licked her dried lips. Her feathers twitched anxiously, itching to take flight. Preferably on a path toward Canterlot—better yet, right to her parents’ house, into her bedroom where she could just bury her head beneath her old pillow. Like a little filly scurrying home after all the schoolfoals laughed at her project.

But she wasn’t a little filly anymore.

With a solemn nod, Twilight waved the fillies forward to stand with Rarity. “You three first,” she said. “If I’m going to do this presentation thing, I might as well play the part right.”

“Too right you are,” Rarity replied. Turning to Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, she shooed them along before following in their wake. Though not without turning over her shoulder to add, “Head high, shoulders square, and wings folded naturally, Twilight. And show us that pretty smile of yours—the townsfolk will respond well to an honest, friendly face.”

Pretty smile?

Twilight could’ve let happy sparks spout from her horn! But she stayed strong. Instead, she gave a single nod and waved Rarity on as she approached the door. She could hear Cadence taking the time to greet and address the crowd herself, a shorter version of her usual spiel, but no less warm and sincere.

Saving the stage for Twilight, no doubt.

As Shining spoke up managed to school her face into something resemblance of that stately mask—with her head angled high, and a smile gracing her lips. Though not quite the small, knowing smile Celestia perfected, nor was it Cadence’s dazzling grin which could warm even the coldest of hearts in the midst of the strongest blizzard.

It was just her smile. The happy smile of a young mare, her head filled to the brim with countless ideas on how to improve things, but with plenty of room to spare for learning.

The smile of an eager student.

“Without further ado,” Shining said, his voice booming over the platform, both for their benefit and hers, “allow me to present Her Highness, Princess Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight stepped through the door just as he finished the last syllable of her name. Her hooves had barely touched the wooden platform when wave of thunderous stomping greeted her, dozens upon dozens of smiling faces gazed at her, a group of schoolfoals bore a banner that read “Welcome to Ponyville, Princess Twilight”—with the “t” only just fitting at the end. A lovely little gesture that sent a sort of fluffy warmth through her chest.

She strode forth to meet Mayor Mare and Granny Smith Apple, pausing to give an appreciative nod to her brother and fellow princess, silent thanks for yielding the floor. Twilight stopped a mere step before the mares and bowed her head just slightly, as Celestia had taught.

“Your Highness,” Mayor Mare greeted, bowing so low her forehead almost touched the floor. “Welcome to our humble little town. We’re delighted that you’ve chosen Ponyville as your home.”

“The pleasure is mine, Mayor Mare,” Twilight replied in kind. She gestured with a hoof. “Please, rise.” A quick glance to her left showed Granny Smith trying to bow. She sucked in a breath. “Ms. Apple, there’s no need for you to—”

The mare leveled her with a stern glare. “I ain’t so old I need or want or deserve special treatment from Royalty!” she practically spat. “I’m bowin’.”

“But it’s really not—don’t strain yourself on my account, please!”

“No disrespect, Highness, but I bowed to Princess Celestia when she gave my kin the land, I bowed each an’ ev’ry time she’s come ‘round, and I’ll darn sure bow to any of her kin!” Then her eyes narrowed. “An’ it’s Granny Smith. I ain’t no ‘Ms. Apple’, an’ I ain’t ever gonna be one!”

Twilight couldn’t help but rear back as if stricken. A bout of giggling made her flick an ear, she glanced over her shoulder to find Rarity hastily slapping a hoof over her mouth, those gorgeous sapphire eyes of hers sparkled light the night sky. She could almost read “I told you so” off the mare’s face. Granny Smith cursed, drawing her attention again.

Granny fumbled with her walker for a few seconds, then muttered out of the corner of her mouth to Mayor Mare, “Do ya mind holdin’ my walker, dear?”

“Of course, Granny,” Mayor Mare said smoothly, her smile never faltered a fraction as she gently took the walker in her hooves and moved it aside, but within easy reach for the aging farm mare.

With a satisfied nod, Granny Smith faced Twilight once again, then slowly bowed. A wince and grit of teeth betrayed the pain in her aging muscles and stiff joints. Still, she bowed low, but not quite as much as Mayor Mare—for very good reason, Twilight thought.

After a few seconds, Granny Smith stood up straight and accepted her walker from Mayor Mare with a nod of thanks. She looked Twilight in the eye. “Have to admit, ya got a certain look to ya, young Princess. An’ I do appreciate the concern fer my health.” Her wrinkled face creased as a grin tugged at her lips, a youthful gleam shone in her eyes. She looked to Cadence and nodded. “You tell that Auntie of hers she taught this mare well, and tell her parents they’re welcome in my home when they visit. Ya kin?”

“Of course, Ms. Apple,” Cadence tittered.

“That’s Granny Smith,” the mare chided.

“My mistake. I’ll tell them, Granny Smith.” Cadence beamed, jabbing Shining with a well-placed elbow when he made as though to insert his own comment.

Twilight, meanwhile, caught Mayor Mare’s eye. With an awkward little cough, she offered a hoof. “Well, proprieties aside, I appreciate the welcome. You’ve all really gone all out for this.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet, Your Highness,” Mayor Mare replied with a little laugh. “Our bakers’ assistant has vowed to make this the biggest party Ponyville has ever seen. In fact, that’s the only reason she’s not here babbling away at a mile a minute.” She glanced over Twilight’s shoulder toward Rarity and the fillies, and blinked as though seeing them for the first time. Her gaze flitted back and forth, she settled on Twilight once more. “Er, pardon me for being nosy, but … I couldn’t help but notice a few of our own stepping off the train before you, Highness.” She bit her lip. “I hope there hasn’t been any trouble.”

“Just call me Twilight,” Twilight replied reflexively, her tail flicking behind her. She turned to look over her shoulder at Rarity, her gaze lingered a bit longer than proper, and bit her lip. How could she not linger? The mare was simply stunning, beautiful in all sense of the word—inside and out.

Rarity must have taken her lapse as hesitation or prompting of some sort. Or perhaps she simply wanted the chance to step forth and introduce her fellow townsfolk to her new position.

Either way, the way she sauntered forward with a sway in her hips, beaming and gaily swishing her tail made Twilight’s heart skip a beat. Rarity stopped at her side, bowed her head every so slightly, then faced Mayor Mare and spoke loud enough for all to hear, “There’s no trouble at all. In fact, we came with Princess Twilight—” the sidelong smirk she shot couldn’t have been coincidence. Twilight resisted the urge to interject. But only just. “—as a result of my new position.”

Mayor Mare’s brows disappeared beneath her mane. “Position?”

The little swish of that immaculately curled royal purple tail left little doubt in Twilight’s mind that Rarity had been hoping for such a perfect straight line.

With pride in her voice, Rarity replied, “Why, I’m her mare-in-waiting.”

Twilight watched her new friend and mare-in-waiting with a smile on her face that threatened to spread into a toothy grin. Judging by the way Rarity carried herself—head high, nose slightly upturned, and not a lock of royal purple mane or tail out of place as they trotted along the dirt path—one might think their roles were reversed.

For a split second, a visage of Rarity clad in glimmering silver regalia with ruby gemstones set in her crown and a flowing purple cape with white trim leapt to the forefront of Twilight’s mind. A rosy hue arose in her cheeks. Come to think of it, Rarity would make a fine princess if the reversal were true. And Twilight, no doubt, a mare-in-waiting. Or perhaps she would join her brother in the Royal Guard in such an alternate reality.

Idle musings for another time.

Cadence tittered. “Somepony’s feeling quite sure of herself,” she murmured just loud enough for Twilight to hear. When Twilight turned to share a grin, she caught a familiar gleam in her former foalsitter’s eyes. One she rather hoped to avoid.

With a vulpine grin, Cadence fluffed her feathers merrily, swishing her curly tail as she leaned in to whisper, “And somepony else is quite pleased to watch, no?”

Twilight sputtered, unable to retort. She took a step away and caught Shining’s eye.

He shook his head. “C’mon, Cady,” Shining chided, hip checking her so she stumbled a step. “Let Twily get herself situated and comfortable before you start playing your games.”

“But Shiny!”

“I know, I know. But give it time.” His sky blue eyes sparkled so bright, Twilight could’ve sworn they threw off sparks. “They only just met.”

The rosy hue in her cheeks spread to her neck. Twilight hastened her steps to catch up to Rarity and the fillies, pinning her ears back to block out their mirth. She managed to plant a crooked smile upon her face as she sidled up to her mare-in-waiting, her feathers twitched nervously, enough that they brushed gently against Rarity’s ribs.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Heavens, that coat was soft.

Rarity flinched and let out a shuddering gasp. She turned, sapphire eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “Prin—Twilight! I mean—ahem!” she squeaked, then forced a cough. After a moment, she resumed her perfect posture and hid her surprise behind that sculpted smile and neutral look. “Sorry. Yes?”

“My fault. I didn’t mean to brush your side,” Twilight mumbled, though a not-so-small part of her felt like prancing along and doing so again. She cleared her throat. “You seem rather happy.”

“Oh, Twilight, dear, I’m not happy. I’m absolutely giddy!”

“Why’s that?”

Before Rarity could offer reply, Sweetie turned and deadpanned, “Because she just lives to be in the spotlight whenever she can.”

“Sweetie Belle!”

“What? It’s the truth.”

Rarity stopped in the middle of the road and flicked her tail irritably. Her ears pinned flat against her beautiful mane. “Yes,” she hissed, “but that isn’t something one typically brings up in present company!”

The little filly glanced at Twilight, tilting her head. Then she shrugged. “Well, she’s your friend, isn’t she?”

“Yes, but—”

“And she had lunch with us at a hayburger place.”

Twilight bit her lip, fighting back a smile at the way Rarity’s ear flicked. Another mental note was added: the mare was quite pretty when trying not to lose her temper. In fact, this would be the perfect opportunity to kiss her on the nose like Cadence does whenever Shining gets flustered or frustrated with her teasing.

“Yes,” Rarity said after a moment. “She did. However—”

“Then there’s not really a reason not to say it,” Sweetie said with an air of finality that nearly made Twilight burst into giggles. She did manage to swallow her mirth and fix that small, regal smile upon her face a mere nanosecond before the little filly’s gaze returned to her. Sweetie pointed a hoof down the path. “The library’s just up ahead, Princess. See?”

Twilight followed Sweetie’s hoof, ears perking as her gaze settled upon the proud oak tree standing just up the road, its branches raised high and filled with thousands upon thousands of verdant leaves. A wooden balcony was nestled in its boughs along with a top level observation deck and several windows cut into the wood. A single red door had been cut and fitted into the base of the trunk, and an old red sign bearing an open book and a name written in flowing golden script: Golden Oak Library.

All that done to create a library within the tree, yet judging by the leaves and coloration of the bark, it was still alive! The student within her squealed in delight. With a flash of raspberry and a loud ping-crack!, she teleported to the front porch so she could get a closer look. Such a marvel of magic and nature was, to her, like art. More than art.

Countless questions raced through her mind. A tree this size shouldn’t be able to house a library, there had to be some rather impressive rune crafting at work to expand the interior while keeping the exterior the same. Rune crafting the level of a master craftspony—or, if she could be a tad arrogant, a student of Princess Celestia.

Of course, that begged the question as to just how big Golden Oak Library—her library—was on the inside. Surely it would hold a decent amount, nowhere near the size of the libraries in Canterlot or Manhattan, of course, but sizable.

Celestia wouldn’t let her pick it as her seat of power otherwise.

The sound of hooves thudding against the dirt path as the others hurried to catch up made her flick an ear. Twilight bit her lip and lit her horn to lift the latch, her feathers fluttered and tail swished merrily as she enveloped the handle in her magic’s raspberry glow and tugged it open, and strode inside with eyes wide and eager to take in everything.

Her expectations promptly crashed face first into the ground at full speed.

A small room, barely larger than her parents’ living room, awaited her. A single table rested at the very center, flanked by shelves cut into the wood that bore maybe thirty or forty books each. There were a couple bean bags, a couch faced a modest fireplace, and there were three doors and a staircase. A quick look through the doorway on the far side showed a modest kitchen. To her left, a hallway that ended with a tiny guest bedroom.

Twilight blinked and trotted toward the third, a wood door cut into the base of the staircase. With a flick of magic, she tugged it open and cast light into the darkness to reveal an empty basement, no doubt used for storage.

Where were the rest of the books, though? Small town library or not, there couldn’t just be this. She had more books

Humming, she trotted up the stairs, with her brother, Cadence, Rarity and the fillies trailing in her wake. Their questions and calls fell upon deaf ears, save for one.

“Twilight, dear?” Rarity asked, hurrying forward to her side. Their shoulders brushed together. “Is something the matter?”

Twilight didn’t answer. She reached the top of the stairs and let her gaze sweep across the loft. It was a cute little sight: a one pony bed, an open walkway out to the balcony with a view of the town, a narrow flight of stairs leading up to that observation deck, and another storage closet. The perfect place for a librarian to relax and rest after a long day’s work.

That there was but a single, solitary bookshelf didn’t please her one bit. And it wasn’t even half stocked.

Her lips tugged into a deep frown. “Where are all the books?” she asked softly.

There was a beat of silence. Then Scootaloo gave a nervous cough. “Uh, Princess?”

“Just Twilight,” she corrected. “And yes?”

“Right. Sorry. Well, Twilight … you sorta, kinda …”

Twilight turned slowly to fix her with a flat look. “Scootaloo,” she began, “please don’t tell me those were all the books in the library.”

Scootaloo shut her mouth with an audible click of teeth, forcing a smile.

Sighing, Twilight looked to Cadence and Shining, the latter of whom raised a brow and smiled. She glared, flicking her tail and unfurling her wings in challenge. “Shut up. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” he retorted. “Your tail didn’t just flick and you’re not taking up a pegasus challenge stance to make me shut my mouth while you try to do everything but think of the lack of books in your library.”

Her jaw tightened as she bit back a curse. Shining knew her far too well. Twilight closed her eyes and then sucked in a deep breath through her nose, held it within her for a count of three, then let it out through her mouth. “It doesn’t bother me,” she muttered, more to herself than those around her. “It doesn’t bother me.”

A gentle hoof touched her shoulder. “Twilight?” Rarity asked barely above a whisper. “Are you quite all right?”

“No. No, Rarity, I’m not all right.” Slowly, she opened her eyes and furrowed her brows. “It bothers me. It bothers me a lot. This is unacceptable. How in Celestia’s name does anypony research anything in this town?”

The trio of townsponies averted their gazes. Rarity bit her lip and gave her tail an awkward little flick, a nervous smile spread across her face. “Well …”

“We don’t really do those sorts of projects,” Scootaloo replied in her stead.

Another deep breath did little to dim the spark of irritation. “Okay!” Twilight huffed. “Be right back. I just need to pop home and—”

Shining coughed. “Why don’t you hold off on that until tomorrow? After the party the entire town planned for you.”

“But … But …”

“Tomorrow. The library isn’t going anywhere, and neither are your books.” His smile was almost as bright as the sun. “Besides, wouldn’t you like to meet your new subjects?”

Backed into a corner, Twilight sucked in her lips. His verbal fencing was as sharp as ever, refined by years of guarding and dating Cadence, and serving as Captain of the Guard under Celestia.

Again, Rarity sidled up to her, brushing their shoulders together. “If it’s any consolation,” she said, “I’d be happy to help you get the library up to standard first thing in the morning. We can work on it while we get things set up for when you have official visits.”

Two of them. And Cadence standing by looking oh so very amused, her purple eyes dancing and feathers fluffing as if she’d been through this exact thing and was thoroughly enjoying the chance to watch it herself.

Actually, that sounded quite like her.

With a sigh, Twilight waved her hoof to concede defeat. Maybe a party was exactly what the doctor ordered. A chance to let her mane down and meet her new subjects after days of preparation for her coronation and the move to Ponyville. “Okay, fine, but if there isn’t a piece of yellow cake with white frosting, I’m sticking an apple on somepony’s horn.”

“Of course there’s gonna be cake, silly filly!” a new voice chirped in her ear. “What sorta party planning pony would I be if there weren’t?”

Twilight toppled right over. “Bloody balefire and brimstone!” she yelped, looking up at a beaming, bouncing young mare with pink coat and fluffy fucshia mane. “Who in Equestria are—”

“Pinkie Pie!” Rarity snapped, stamping her hoof. “What have we told you about doing that?”

The new mare, Pinkie Pie, didn’t so much as falter in grinning or bouncing. Instead, she skipped over to bounce a circle around Rarity. “You said no~o~t to! But it’s fu~u~un!” she teased before turning to beam at Twilight again. “Sorry about missing your big arrival, Princess Twily-wily—” Twilight’s ear twitched at the sound of Shining swallowing a bout of laughter at the new name, no doubt she’d hear it from him later “—but Mayor Mare and Mr. and Mrs. Cake said they wanted me to make extra-super-quadruple sure we had everything ready for your party, and they wanted me to give you a little while to get to the library and get settled in, but I thought I’d come over here and say hi—by the way, hi!—and get things all set up!”

It took a couple minutes for Twilight to process the mile-a-minute babble that spilled forth from Pinkie’s lips. Once her mind caught up, she managed a weak, “Huh?”

Giggling, Pinkie Pie tugged her to her hooves. “C’mon! I’ve already got everything set up! Just gotta fire off my party cannon and it’ll all be done!”

Twilight barely had time to squeak “wait, what” before she was yanked along down the stairs and back into the tiny library’s reading room. Nothing had changed, save for one rather odd addition.

A cannon. A literal blue cannon with pink wheels and a flower imprint on the hubcaps stood in the center of the room.

Warning signs flashed in her mind as Pinkie skipped her way over to the artillery weapon, humming a happy little tune. “Uh … Pinkie?”

“Yeah-huh?”

“Please tell me you’re not about to fire off a cannon in my library.”

Pinkie scoffed and waved her off. “Don’t be silly, Princess Twily-wily! Of course I’m not gonna fire off a cannon in your library!” She paused a beat, her smile grew to a toothy grin that nearly split her face as her hoof ventured near the pull string. “I’m gonna fire off my party cannon in your library!” She tugged the string before Twilight could think to move, everything exploded in a burst of confetti, balloons, and streamers.

6. Magic and Pure Imagination

Morning came all too soon for Twilight Sparkle, and brought with it the feeling of cobwebs lingering in her head.

She blinked owlishly and let out a tired mumble as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Twilight could swear her ears were still ringing from the noises—both from the party itself and Pinkie Pie’s babbling as she cleaned up. A year ago, she thought with a wry smile, I would’ve done everything in my power to avoid that party, short of making it an official decree.

With an amused chuckle, so rolled out of bed and landed lightly on her hooves. The soft carpet tickled her frogs as she glanced around the little loft on the second floor of the library. Her loft. Her library. Her seat of power.

Her home. From the warm wood floors to the living tree that housed her new dwelling, it stirred memories of her family’s modest home in Canterlot. Twilight glanced at the spare bed Shining had pulled out of the storage closet and enlarged just enough that he could cuddle with Cadence while they slept. A smile stole its way across her face. They looked like the perfect couple, messy manes, sleepy smiles, and all.

An image of herself laying with Rarity leapt to the forefront of her mind. How wonderful it would be to hold the smaller mare in her hooves and hug her tight, draping a wing around delicate shoulders while she nuzzled into the crook of Rarity’s neck. Or perhaps her ears.

Twilight shook her head. Distractions! Not unwelcome, mind, but distractions nonetheless! There were things to be done. Like dealing with how woefully understocked her library was.

Her smile faltered. She could understand Golden Oaks Library being on the smaller side—at a glance, Ponyville was on the smaller side, even for a farm town—but the idea that it was stocked with a mere two bookshelves on the ground floor and another in the librarian’s loft was simply … bothersome. To put it diplomatically.

Huffing out a calming sigh through her nose, Twilight trotted into the bathroom to freshen herself up for the day. A quick shower and brush job had her looking resplendent. Not a lock of her mane or patch of coat out of place. After a quick check in the mirror to make certain of her job well done, she headed downstairs to rustle up some breakfast for herself in the kitchen. As she descended the stairs, her eyes swept over the ground level, taking in her new domain with a smile.

A glimpse of snow white coat and royal purple mane made her do a double take. Twilight stopped on the bottom step, with her hoof raised in mid stride.

Rarity’s chest rose and fell as she slept on. Her head laid on a throw pillow propped against the hoof rest, a single blue blanket covered her lower half. A quick glance to the opposite side of the room yielded a pair of empty chairs. The fillies were nowhere to be found.

The last vestiges of the cobwebs clouding her thoughts cleared. Rarity had sent the fillies home with their parents some two hours before her welcoming party ended, while she insisted that she remain. After all, she was Twilight’s mare-in-waiting. What use would she be if she were halfway across town when Twilight needed to call upon her? Or so she claimed.

Thus, Rarity opted to sleep on the couch. A move that made Twilight’s feathers bristle. If not for a horribly futile argument about royals sleeping in proper beds and how “improper” it would be for Rarity to allow her to sleep on the couch, arrangements would have been quite different. Besides, it wasn’t like she could ask Cadence and Shining to surrender their borrowed bed, or allow another to huddle against them.

If she’s going to stay here, like a real mare-in-waiting would stay in the castle, this isn’t going to stand. A sly smile spread across her face as an idea came to mind. That could work nicely. And I have just the right book to consult at home, which will take care of my small library problem too.

Casting one last look down at Rarity, Twilight fluffed her feathers. Her tail swished gaily. The slumbering mare would sure be surprised, of that there was no doubt. Although, there was the issue of her waking before Twilight returned.

A risk she would just have to take. Twilight turned to trot into the kitchen, eager to prepare her teleport spell so she could put her plan to action. But she paused, glancing back at the smile gracing Rarity’s lips.

If she were so bold, she could steal a kiss right then and there. And maybe a soft nuzzle to her ears.

Twilight shook her head. No, that wouldn’t be right. That would be taking advantage of her. Why, she didn’t even know if Rarity felt the same.

She trotted into the kitchen and readied her teleportation spell. Stolen kisses and nuzzles, and all the lovely little couples’ things she saw Shining Armor enjoy with Cadence could wait for Rarity’s consent—if she even gave it at all. Twilight could be patient and understanding of others’ feelings.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t hold just the slightest bit of hope that her gift might just earn her a little peck, purely by flight of fancy.

“At very least,” she muttered, “Rarity’ll be more comfortable than she is on that couch.”

In a flash and a snap of air filling the emptied space, she teleported far away from Golden Oak Library.

Rarity cursed sleeping on couches when she woke. She mumbled as she sat up straight, pushing the modest blanket aside while she arched her back to work out the stiffness. Proper or not, sleeping on a couch was most certainly not beneficial to her health. A sore back and neck would make accompanying a princess to social functions rather difficult, after all.

Something to address after Twilight was settled in, she decided. Perhaps she could ask to sleep in the spare bed once Princess Cadence and Shining Armor departed for home. Granted there was the issue of where the bed would be placed, but the details could be hashed out later.

A disbelieving voice floated from the kitchen. Shining Armor’s, she realized. “You seriously brought everything? Enchantments or not, how’re you going to fit them in this little library?”

“That, oh brother of mine, is what my runes textbooks are for,” Twilight replied casually. “Now quiet down and eat your pancakes. I worked hard on them. And Cadence, why is he so thin? Don’t you two have chefs in the Crystal Empire?”

“He trains like he thinks he’s a frontline legionnaire,” Princess Cadence drawled. “Believe me, I’ve tried, and am still working on it.”

Rarity slid off the couch and padded toward the kitchen. The smell of fresh pancakes and oats greeted her, drawing her to the source like a bee to a flower’s sweet nectar. Her stomach growled a natural demand to be filled.

She stepped through the open doorway to find a small kitchen with a two burner stove, an old sink, an icebox, and round table just big enough to seat four.

The three Royals sat around it. Princess Cadence sat closest to Shining Armor, who had his back facing the door. Her brows furrowed as she hovered a bowl of oatmeal near his muzzle and demanded he eat, to which he simply rolled his eyes and sipped at his coffee before turning back to the newspaper in his hoof. However, a pink glow engulfed the bowl and gently tugged it free of the shimmering cerulean, then set it down beside a plate of half eaten pancakes.

“I said I’d eat!” he chided, amusement evident in his voice. “Gosh, it’s like you think I’m going to stick it beneath the table for a dog to lick clean when you’re not looking! And we don’t even have a dog!”

Rarity smiled and looked at the mare across from him. Twilight fixed him with a look that could’ve curdled milk, frowning when he didn’t so much as flinch. With a long-suffering sigh, she shook her head and sipped at her coffee. Her eyes flitted toward the door and promptly lit up like the sun. “Good morning, Rarity,” she said brightly. “Hungry?”

Her heart skipped a beat. If Rarity didn’t know better, she’d think … no. That was silly. She was a mare from a tiny little farming town, Twilight was a brilliant mage and a princess. Fairytales were nice, but they weren’t real.

“Starving,” she replied, the sleep finally cleared from her head. Rarity approached the table and took the seat on Twilight’s right. She let her eyes sweep over the table, her ears perked as she saw the stack of golden-brown pancakes and bowl of oatmeal awaiting her, kept warm by a raspberry glow. “My word, it looks delicious. Who made this?”

“I did,” Twilight replied with a happy fluffing of her feathers.

“You?” Blinking, Rarity furrowed her brows. All those fairytales about the princesses in far off castles took a knife through the middle of their covers. “But—”

“Rarity, please. Just because I’m a princess doesn’t mean I don’t know my way around a kitchen. Cadence makes some of the best Istallion food in all of Equestria—”

“Aside from Auntie Celestia,” Princess Cadence cut across her with a laugh. “And no pony can make a breakfast spread quite like her, it drives poor Au Gratin batty!”

And now the fairytales had been set on fire. Princesses didn’t cook their own meals in those stories. Then again, those princesses weren’t like Twilight to begin with—and apparently they weren’t like the Royal Family at all.

Rarity sighed. Of course they weren’t. As if the past few days hadn’t done enough to drive the fact home, Twilight, at least, seemed bound and determined to do away with every one of them. Worse yet, without even knowing of it.

Typical.

She lathered her pancakes in syrup, took up her knife and fork and cut herself a generous morsel, then brought it to her lips. She took her first bite, the taste of sweet, fluffy buttermilk pancakes and rich maple syrup danced upon her tongue. Almost like mother used to make.

Maybe there was something to a princess cooking meals. Especially one taught by a mare over a thousand years old.

“So, Twilight,” Princess Cadence began, “how do you plan on fitting all those books in your library? And please don’t just say ‘runes.”

“Well, that’s the simple answer.” Twilight paused to take a sip of coffee.

Princess Cadence arched a slender brow. “And the more complicated answer is …?”

“Oh. I plan on using a series of wards to expand the interior of the library and give it a few extra rooms, but contain it within its natural space.”

“Ah!” Her eyes lit up as comprehension dawned. “I see. Drawing inspiration from foals’ tales, I see.”

“The theory is sound and it has been tested before.” Twilight’s horn lit up as she levitated a large duffel bag and shook it in mid air. “Magic bags and carts have been used for centuries. All I have to do is account for the size difference, add more power and intent to the runic array, and account for the constant flow of bodies and books.” Thinking on it a moment, she added, “And the size of the bookcases, of course.”

Shining glanced up from his newspaper and grinned. “Yeah, while I don’t know a whole lot about runes, I’d say that’s a pretty big deal for such a project. And don’t blow yourself up, by the way.”

“Wait, what?” Rarity yelped her jaw went slack. She turned to fix Twilight with a horrified look.

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing,” Twilight replied, rolling her eyes before aiming a flat stare at Shining. “He’s just being a smarty flank.”

“A smarty flank who knows what happens if somepony makes a mistake with runic arrays. There’s a reason crafters go through years of training, and I’d like for my baby sister to not be a case study in the disaster portion of that field. Magical prodigy or not.”

With a huff, Twilight flung a dollop of warm milk from her oatmeal at him, which splattered against a tiny pink barrier which formed just a hair’s breadth before his nose. She pursed her lips as Shining cheekily waggled his ears, then said, “I’ll take all the necessary precautions. And Rarity will be with me the whole time.”

“Pardon?” Rarity leaned back from her, eyes wide and trepidation creeping into her heart. Just what was this mare getting her into?

Twilight turned to flash a reassuring smile at her. “It’ll be fine. I’ve done runic enchantments before with Celestia. I’ll just need you for, ah …” Her feathers twitched, she ducked her head and gave a shaky smile. “Appraisal,” she finished lamely.

Trepidation gave way to confusion, and then a slow trickle of curiosity. Rarity sat silently for a moment longer, searching Twilight’s eyes for any hint to her designs. There was nervousness, as there had been on the train. But there was something else. Something she just couldn’t quite place her hoof on.

Curiosity won the day. “If you’re sure it’s safe,” Rarity said slowly, before nodding once. “I’d be happy to offer whatever help you require, Twilight.”

The smile that spread across Twilight’s face could have warmed the hearts of a pack of hungry timberwolves. One Rarity found herself returning, and brought with it a warmth that filled her chest.

Rarity averted her eyes and resumed eating her breakfast while the royals took up their banter again. Her mind, however, wandered to the mare sitting just a short distance to her left.

Twilight, she realized, was more beautiful when she smiled like that.

The sendoff for Princess Cadence and Captain Shining Armor had been understandably emotional, just as the departure from Canterlot. Rarity politely averted her gaze as Twilight caught the pair in teary embraces, nuzzling into their shoulder and whispering how much she’d miss them along with promises to write often. Gestures and words returned in earnest, and with a tender kiss on either cheek from the burly stallion before he boarded the train.

A loving family, Rarity noted. One that both met those lofty, fairytale dreams of hers, but … simultaneously defied them. They were perfect, yet equine all the same.

It was a thought that filled her heart with warmth. Equestria’s rulers, living in splendor in their castle in Canterlot, weren’t so different from the average pony after all.

Or so Rarity had thought. Any similarities she might have drawn between the common pony and Twilight Sparkle were dashed almost immediately upon their return to Golden Oak Library when Equestria’s youngest princess drew her attention to the little duffle bag she’d retrieved from her parents’ home in Canterlot.

The very one Shining mentioned at the table.

“Forgive me if I seem a bit dense, dear,” Rarity began, “but I’m afraid I don’t see what makes this bag so important that you had to go all the way back to Canterlot for it.” She furrowed her brows. “Come to think of it, how did you even do that?”

Twilight giggled. “Oh, just a teleportation spell. It’s simple, really.” Her eyes lit up. “I could teach you if you like!”

“Er. Pardon me, but I don’t know if my talents are quite comparable to yours, dear. That might be a bit—” she rolled a hoof through the air in search of the phrase “—out of my depth.”

“Nonsense.” The young princess waved her off. “Anypony can learn it with practice. With a little work, I’d wager I could have you doing basic teleportation across the room in two weeks.” She paused in thought, then amended, “Maybe a month. It’s simple, but the principal being new might slow you a little.”

Rarity blinked, unsure if she should take offense or not. Rather than dwell, she sidled up to Twilight and raised a brow as her princess unzipped the bag. “That aside, how exactly does this solve the, ah, book issue?”

“Well, this is just part of it. A runic array—”

“Forgive me, dear, but I was at the table. I’m afraid the subject of runes is not something I can claim in my area of expertise.”

Twilight ducked her head, her cheeks tinged a dusty pink. “Right. Sorry. Well, let’s just say I can cast big spells with the right arrangement of symbols and magic.” She lit her horn and floated two books from within the confines of her duffle bag, hovering them before Rarity. “And I’m going to fix my little problem with these.”

The first book was an thick textbook, with pages yellowed with age and riddled with small tears and folds from where students past had dog-eared the pages. Upon the deep brown cover, written in faded black script, was the title Runes: Spellwork and Enchantments to Last the Ages.

The textbook opened and flipped several dozen pages forward as Twilight steered it to hover before her face. An eager smile tugged at either corner of her mouth, like a filly about to play with a new toy. “I’ve studied runes with Celestia for ages. What I’d like to do is see if I can apply a bit of theory, the same used in making my bag,” she said, with an absentminded nod to her luggage before turning to trot down the hallway leading to the storage room. “That way, I can make something bigger, but have it contained within its own space. A … bigger on the inside trick, if that helps the image.”

“I see.” She didn’t, but Rarity followed along. Her curiosity was piqued. “And you want to try this on what exactly?”

Twilight glanced over her shoulder. Her smile broadened. “Oh, you’ll see. Would you mind fetching my chalk box from the bag?”

“Er. What?” Sapphire eyes darted from Twilight to the bag as if she’d told Rarity to kiss a snake.

“Oh, relax! It’s just a magic bag! They’ll be right at the top anyway, I couldn’t very well have them buried under all my books and shelves, you know!”

Her words did little to alleviate Rarity’s apprehension. If anything, it only worsened. Still, her princess commanded it, so she would do as ordered.

She reached out with a shimmering blue tendril of magic, biting her lips she felt around like she half expected a bear to leap from within and claw her face off. Fortunately, no such thing happened.

Rarity felt her magic brush against a slender metal box, just the size to hold a few pieces of chalk. Raising a brow, she took hold of both items and withdrew them from the bag. Step one complete. She could happily go rejoin Twilight.

But her curiosity got the better of her. What exactly had Twilight meant? Surely she wasn’t serious about there being all of her books, not to mention bookshelves—the very idea! Still, it couldn’t hurt to check things out. It might just help her learn a little bit more about the princess she was working under.

Again, she reached into the bag with a tendril of magic, fanning it out to lay over the bottom with the soft touch of a blanket being unfurled over a readily made bed. Every bit of past experience told her she should feel nothing more than the bottom, maybe a few other books and a toiletries bag. There was no way Twilight had managed to fit anything more in such a small duffel bag.

It never came. Instead, Rarity felt her magic brush against polished wood panels and shelves, pristinely maintained dust jackets of countless hard-cover books, paperbacks with bent and worn spines that told of countless nights spent reading and re-reading their text, and thick, aged tomes that seemed at least an inch or two thick.

Rarity took a step back, very nearly dropping the box Twilight requested as her magic flickered out. “Sweet, merciful Celestia,” she breathed. “What in Equestria—how is this possible?”

“Rarity!” Twilight called from down the hallway. “I need that brush and inkwell so I can get started! Have you been able to find them or do you need my help?”

“N-No!” Rarity replied, jolted from her reverie. She flipped the bag closed with a deft flick of magic, then scampered along down the hall as quickly as her hooves could carry her to her princess’s side.

The hallway was rather short, leading only to a small washroom and a storage closet. Rarity found Twilight standing between the two doors with a hoof touching her chin and her runes book hovering before her eyes her magic.

Humming a note or two to herself, Twilight muttered something under her breath that Rarity didn’t quite catch. Her brows were knitted together in concentration, the bridge of her nose scrunched up just enough to make Rarity pause a moment to note just how pretty she looked so deep in thought. No, not pretty.

Beautiful.

She looked up, her purple eyes lit up almost the instant they met Rarity’s. Twilight closed her book with a sharp snap. “Ah, perfect. Exactly what I needed.” She reached out to take the chalk box from Rarity, exchanging her books. “This is going to get a little involved, I’m afraid. So I might need you to consult my runes book for me if I need something. Don’t worry I’ve marked the pages.”

“All right,” Rarity replied slowly, glancing at the pages to find that, yes, Twilight had in fact dog eared three or four pages in near proximity. Her eyes flitted to the second book though. It wasn’t nearly as thick, nor its pages as aged, maybe only a few years and several read throughs, if the hints of wear in the spine and breaks in the pages where bookmarks had been placed many times over. She tilted her head, shifting the runes textbook out of the way so she could look upon the cover.

A splendrous depiction of bookshelves stretching as far as the eye could see, deep into an endless cavern and twisting hallways, even laid out beneath a balcony overlooking it all, greeted her. A pair of ponies stood on the cover. One young mare no doubt some intrepid explorer, or perhaps a curious would-be patron. The other mare stood just a bit taller, the presence of a pair of magnificent wings and long horn telling of her status as an alicorn, perhaps some princess of knowledge or reason, seemed equally curious. Why, the alicorn looked as though she hadn’t seen another pony in quite some time and was thinking to reach out and touch the newcomer to check if she were real.

Above the image, the title was written in flowing silvery cursive. “The Princess and the Magic Library, a novel by Ducky Ink.”

Blinking, she glanced up to see Twilight drawing the beginnings of a circle on the floor, taking time to ensure that there were no rough edges. Rarity waited a few seconds for her to close the circle, then asked, “Is there a particular reason you picked this book out of your bag?”

Velvety purple ears twitched. Twilight replied without looking up from her labor. “It’s the inspiration behind what I’m about to do,” she said almost absentmindedly. “The theory is sound and has been applied on things like my bag. It’s just incredibly rare to try it on the scale shown in the book, or even what I’m about to do.”

“That sounds like it could be … troublesome.”

At that, she turned to smile at Rarity. “It’s a little challenging, but I can manage. Like I said, the theory is quite sound and I’ve had practice.” Twilight returned her attention to her circle and began etching a few strange symbols into the wooden floor. As she worked, she asked, “Out of curiosity, how much would you say you—actually, never mind. Your mass isn’t important. I should be factoring in the mass and volume of the tree and then the volume of space I need for the bookcases and additional room. Oh, and of course the magic flowing throughout. Hmm …”

Additional room? Magic flowing throughout what? Rarity opened the book and glanced through the pages Twilight had marked. Similar symbols stared back at her, just as foreign to her eyes on the page as they were on the floor. The little notes her princess had scrawled into the margins about factoring for the mass and volume to adjust for the space being created in an already existing body did little to help, but did provide some sort of hint.

Twilight wasn’t just making an extra hallway for her bookcases. Between her own words and notes, there was something extra going into her labor.

Something she was being deliberately vague about.

But it was her princess’s project. Rarity would stand by and wait until she was needed, as was her duty.

Though if there was one thing that confused her, aside from the strange runes, it was the way Twilight glanced over her shoulder to steal a look back at her every now and again. Almost like a nervous filly preparing to show something off to her teacher. Or perhaps her closest friend.

Her first instinct as a sister was to cajole whatever it was out of Twilight. If there was something making her nervous, Rarity could offer a supporting hoof.

As quickly as those glances came, they were gone though, and her piece of chalk moved on with the same precision as it had before. No hesitation, no messy writing. Just calm, even strokes of chalk on hardwood floor, then gradually moving toward the walls and even the ceiling.

Whatever had her princess glancing back, Rarity decided would just have to wait until the job was done.

However long that would take.

Of all the things Rarity imagined she would be a part of as Twilight’s mare-in-waiting, this wasn’t quite what she had in mind.

As it turned out, runic arrangements, something Twilight called “a little involved,” weren’t quite so simple as “draw a circle on the ground, scrawl a few symbols around it, cast a spell, and be done.” Oh, no.

Runic arrangements covered the hall like a dust storm of indiscernible scribbles from a time long forgotten. All over the walls. All over the ceiling. Rarity had to resist the urge to shriek as she might should she catch Sweetie Belle doing the same in her Boutique, but she couldn’t hold back a twitch in her ear or a slight flick in her tail when she was sure Twilight wasn’t looking.

If all this didn’t work, somepony would have a sizable mess to clean up. And Rarity had a sneaking suspicion that she might be the unlucky pony in that equation.

That, of course, assumed things didn’t work out as Twilight said they would. Not that Rarity wanted to cast doubt upon her princess’s abilities—really, teleporting all the way to Canterlot and back was a feat in and of itself—but everypony had limits.

Rather than glare so brazenly at the runes, she decided to busy herself with flipping through and skimming the pages of The Princess and the Magic Library. Her confusion and disbelief at her princess’s work was matched only by her intrigue into Twilight’s inspiration. Just what was it that made her think she could scribble on the walls, floors, and ceiling and just create something from nothing?

As it turned out, quite a bit of it was based in the fairytale story held in her hooves. Skimming turned into actual reading in short order. Rarity sat on the floor, engrossed in the age-old tale of a young unicorn named Turquoise Stardust who stumbled into an ancient, forgotten library in the middle of Blackwood Forest, a dark, treacherous wood from which nopony was said to have gone in and returned the same. There, Turquoise met Midnight Song, the Princess of the Lost Library of Blackwood.

Midnight Song had crafted the library herself, weaving spells beyond the knowledge of even some of the most ancient and learned magi of the land to construct a library confined within a modest cottage. At least, it seemed a modest cottage on the outside. Once Turquoise ducked into the cottage to escape a rainstorm, she found herself met by a sight that had her convinced she was dreaming: a great library, with shelves lining the walls of the main sitting area. Or, rather, the entry way. Beyond that, there was a lovely balcony with a view stretching across a veritable maze of bookcases, reading tables, and bag chairs, all lit by the glow of a fine chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

And then there was Midnight herself. The way Turquoise described her, Rarity would almost swear the mare had been smitten at first sight.

How had she not heard of this story before? Surely it would’ve fit right in with all those classic tales of Royal Guards in gleaming gold saving the fair lady from the clutches of some dreadful creature or dastardly villain to win her favor.

“Princess? Rarity? Anypony here? It’s Applejack!”

Rarity flicked an ear at the farm mare’s voice. She closed the book with a gentle flick of her magic and rose, slowly stretching out her legs. “Shall I go see what she needs, Twilight?” she asked with a smile as she watched Twilight pour over her work for the fifteenth time.

“Huh? Oh, yes.” Twilight turned away to flash a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that. Almost done—for real this time, I promise! I just want to look over it one more time before I trigger the runes. One mistake could be a bit … well, never mind that.” She coughed into a hoof, then nodded. “Yes, please see what Applejack wants. I’d be happy to help if needed.”

“Of course.” With a slight bow of her head, Rarity placed the books aside in case Twilight wished to read through them, then turned to trot briskly into the reading room. As she entered, she greeted Applejack with a bright smile. “Good morning, Applejack. Is there something I can help you find? An almanac, perhaps?”

The farm mare shook her head. “No thanks, Rares. Not here for readin’ today.” Applejack brushed her hat backs so she could meet Rarity’s eyes. “Wanted to see if the Princess was ‘round for a quick word. If she’s too busy, I can always come back later though?”

“Twilight is …” Rarity glanced back toward the hall and flicked an ear. “She’s currently working on a bit of rune craft, or so she calls it. But we could check with her if you like.”

“Rune-wha—never mind, I don’t understand half the magic you do in your Boutique. Don’t even wanna try wrappin’ my head ‘round whatever she can do.”

“Don’t feel embarrassed, I haven’t the slightest clue how she’s planning to enlarge the interior of the library myself, but she claims she can do it. That aside, she’s just down this hall.”

Rarity beckoned for Applejack to follow, then turned to lead her down the short hallway to the storage closet. She tried not to take a small measure of solace in the way her friend gasped and whispered something about how the hall looked like the farmhouse walls after Apple Bloom started scribbling when she was but two years old.

How very gratifying that there was somepony who shared her feeling on the matter.

Still, not her place to say. It was Twilight’s library, so she could do with it as she pleased. Rarity gave a light cough, then said, “Twilight, Applejack was hoping to have a quick word with you about something.”

“‘Bout Apple Bloom,” Applejack added.

Twilight’s ears twitched. “Oh?” She turned to face the pair with a smile, snapping her runes text shut before approaching. Her fail swished merrily behind her, eyes gleaming with what could only be immense satisfaction. “Well, I have plenty of time. I’ve just finished my last check on the runes, so I’m free to chat before I start this up. What about your sister would you like to talk about?”

“Well, she told me at breakfast this mornin’ ‘bout how you worked with her ’n Scootaloo to help ‘em study for their test this Monday. Just wanted to pop by and give my thanks properly. Granny would’ve come by too, but all the walkin’ at the party last night’s got her hip actin’ up.”

Again, Twilight’s ears twitched. Her smile melted away into a tiny frown. “Is she okay? I could find a healing spell in my bag if you’d like. I think I brought those books … if not, I can always get them.”

Applejack waved her off. “She’ll be fine, Twilight, but I appreciate the offer. A day’s rest and her medicine’ll have her up ’n about son enough.”

“Well, that’s good then. Though if you change your mind, let me know.”

“‘Course.” Glancing once more at the chalk circles and runes scribbled everywhere, Applejack shook her head. “That aside, I talked with Apple Bloom ‘bout her math an’ looked over one of the reviews you had her do. She showed me a few more practice problems an’ said she’d never felt more confident goin’ into a test, an’ it’s you we’ve got to thank for that.”

Twilight practically lit up. “Oh, that was no trouble at all. I love teaching and tutoring foals.” Her eyes flitted to Rarity, who bit her lip as she noticed a certain gleam in them. Had she been serious about that teleportation spell? “Well, just teaching in general.”

Nodding, Applejack smiled. “Well, I don’t know how you made it so much fun for her, but if you’ve ever got free time and she needs help … would it be too much to ask—”

“Not at all,” the Princess cut her off. “Feel free to send her by anytime, as long as I’m not caught up in paperwork or in a meeting. And she’s welcome to stop by on her own, of course. As is Scootaloo, if you can manage to rope her into it.”

Applejack chuckled and raised her brows. “I might have one or two cards to play to make that one happen. We’ll see.” Casting another glance around the hallway, she tilted her head. “So, a bit off topic here, but what exactly is all this? Rarity said something about rune-whatsits—”

“Rune-crafting,” Rarity and Twilight corrected in unison.

“Right, that. So why’re you doin’ all this … stuff?”

“Glad you asked! You’re just in time for a live demonstration!” Fluffing her feathers, Twilight waved them back. “Step back a little, this is going to take a little magic casting to trigger and it’s going to change the dimensions a bit.”

Rarity furrowed her brows. “Is that dangerous?”

“Not if I did things right, but there’s always that one in a million chance for random occurrence to cause complications and I’d rather not take it with you.”

Now there was a point Rarity couldn’t argue. She nodded once, then ushered Applejack back toward the sitting room, keeping her eyes trained on Twilight all the while. She watched the studious princess glance her work over one last time, as though she expected something to have jumped out of order since she last looked.

Twilight gave a satisfied nod, then channeled magic into her horn. The hallway lit up with a raspberry light, the chalk circles and runes glowed the purest white Rarity had ever seen in her life. Whiter than fresh fallen snow.

There was a blinding flash, spots dotted her vision. Rarity had to avert her gaze and hold up a hoof to protect her eyes, she could hear a rushing sound fill her ears, the tinkling of magic echoed throughout the library and reverberated down to her very bones. She had little choice but to pin her ears flat and wait for the assault to end.

Then it stopped all at once. Hesitantly, Rarity perked her ears up. Only when she confirmed the noice had truly ceased did she dare open her eyes again.

Her jaw promptly dropped. The hallway, which had been maybe four or five paces before ending at the wooden door leading to the storage closet, had grown and now extended to triple—no, quadruple the length and doubled in width to accommodate the presence of bookshelves while leaving room for ponies to trot and peruse. Another door had been added at the end of the hallway, on the right side, just before the storage closet.

Twilight stood before that very door, beaming like a foal on Hearth’s Warming, and waved them over. “Come on over!” she called. “How does it look?”

“I—she—how did she?” Applejack’s jaw clicked shut. “Did you just make the library—the entire tree grow?”

Giggling, Twilight shook her head. “Not at all. I used a special arrangement that keeps the interior growth … well, interior!” She fluffed her feathers once more, this time along with a swish of her tail. “You can go outside and circle the library if you like, but I promise you—” here, Twilight tapped a hoof against the wall “—the trunk hasn’t expanded a micrometer.”

Rarity turned to share a look of utmost disbelief with Applejack. After a couple seconds, the farm mare furrowed her brows and muttered, “Be right back. I gotta see this myself.” Then she hurried out of the library and into the midmorning sun to verify Twilight’s claims.

A part of Rarity thought to follow, but she had something else in mind. Such a feat of magic, expanding a hallway and creating a new door to a new room, wasn’t something any unicorn could simply light their horn and just do like levitation. Heavens no.

This sort of magic was beyond anything she’d ever dreamed. Yet Twilight Sparkle pulled it off with a few chalk scribblings, a quick burst of magic, and a dazzling smile.

She approached as Twilight asked, her eyes flitting from the mare to the door. “I didn’t realize you planned to make an entire new room,” Rarity said slowly. “I didn’t even think you could extend the hallway this much!”

Twilight’s smile grew. She fluttered her wings and bobbed her head. “Anything is possible with a little practice and will.” With a deft flick of magic, she pushed the door open and gestured toward the empty room. A room maybe three-fourths the size of the upstairs loft, with a window to boot. “What do you think?”

“I think you may just be the most wonderfully gifted mare I’ve ever met,” Rarity replied before her brain could catch up with what her mouth was saying.

Her comment seemed to make Twilight’s chest fill. “How kind of you,” she said, then nodded to the room. “But I meant the room.”

Oops. Rarity felt a heat rise in her cheeks. She gave an awkward cough, then entered the new room and let her gaze flit about the empty space. “It looks … quite expansive.” She turned to fix Twilight with a quizzical look. “A new work area? You did mention your studies earlier.”

“No. This room isn’t for me.” Twilight shook her head, her smile didn’t falter in the slightest. She stepped forward and pointed at Rarity. “It’s yours.”

Rarity’s ears twitched. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’ll be here quite a bit, given your new position, so I thought you might end up spending quite a bit of time in the library. If you want to use this as a room, it’s yours. I’ll pay for any furnishing you want. That way, you won’t have to sleep on that spare bed or the couch ever again.”

“I—but—I can’t accept this!” Rarity sputtered. “I’m flattered, truly, and this is such a kind, wonderful gesture, but I can’t—”

“Yes you can,” Twilight cut her off gently. “I’ve already gone and done it, and I’m not undoing it. This room is yours, however you want to use it. And I won’t allow you to spend your bits to furnish it either. You may consider that my first order.”

Rarity worked her mouth wordlessly. She tried to think of some feasible way to reject Twilight’s generous offer—more than generous, in fact! Far too generous!

A princess was not meant to spend so much on her staff! Did these royals even read the fairytales about them? Worse, with each passing second, Twilight’s smile widened into a cheeky grin and her cheeks dusted a most fetching pink hue. She knew she’d just taken away any chance for argument.

Applejack burst into the library at that moment. “She actually did it!” she gasped, panting for breath. “Rarity! Twilight wasn’t kiddin’! This ol’ tree ain’t grown a hair wider!”

A princess who enchanted her library to fit more books and accommodate her mare in waiting, then promised to fund any purchases to furnish the room she created.

What other choice did Rarity have but to heave a defeated sigh, smile, and bow her head. “Thank you, Twilight,” she said softly. “I’ll begin moving my belongings over shortly.”

When she looked up, she found herself met by a smile as bright as the midday sun. Twilight waggled her ears. “I’ll help.”