Playing With Fire

Chapters

2. Fanning Flames
3. Crackling Fire
4. Smoldering Coals
1. Sparking Embers

2. Fanning Flames

With one last run through her mane, Rarity set her brush down on her vanity. The mare that stared back at her from the mirror was, though she dared not say it out loud, stunning. A lady was humble, but nopony could fault her for a little pride today. Her mane, curled and styled into locks of royal purple, fell around her face, bouncing lightly with every movement. Her coat, pristine and white as freshly fallen snow, was as smooth as velvet to the touch and as soft as the clouds pegasi coveted so.

Then, tilting her head to the side just so, she tried a smile and fluttered her eyes. Oh, and what eyes she boasted. The little filly in her imagined that poets would compare them to two pools of blue brighter and more precious than any sapphire in Equestria. And when they captured the light just right, as they did now, they would whisk a pony’s heart away as if bewitched by some impossible-to-resist enchantment.

Fillyhood dreams, she knew, but every mare deserved to indulge in a little whimsy from time to time.

Every day was a day to impress, but today in particular stood out from the rest. The work was complete, the dress finished, and now all that was left was the show. And, if it was anything like the last visit, it would be quite the show. That thought brought a little swish of Rarity’s tail and a giggle from her lips.

In the reflection of her mirror, a small, marshmallow-white head poked in through her bedroom door. A pair of pale green eyes fixed on the back of her head as their owner’s face pulled into a slight frown. “Rarity, are you still getting ready? You’ve been up here forever!”

“Now, now, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity said, turning her head to smile at her little sister, “it’s important to take one’s time when getting ready for a big day.”

The frown lingered as Sweetie walked into the room, her saddlebags wrapped around her barrel and her two-toned tail of pink and purple flicking behind her. She stopped at Rarity’s side, staring up first at the elder unicorn and then at the vanity. “You mean for your special appointment?”

Rarity nodded, glancing over her appearance once more out of the corner of her eye. Perfect. “Precisely. Now—” Leaning down, she nosed against Sweetie’s cheek, prompting a smile and giggle from the foal. “—are you all ready to go? You don’t want to keep Apple Bloom and Scootaloo waiting.”

“I’ve been ready for the last ten minutes.” Sweetie’s eyes swept over the vanity, from the brushes, to the mascara, to the moisturizing cream littered over its surface. One eyebrow raising, she shifted her gaze to Rarity, an unasked question clear as day written over her expression.

Knowing her sister, the question would come anyways, rain or shine.

“Who’s the appointment with?”

Some may have called her smile coy as she let out a tittering laugh and started for the bedroom door. “Why, a client of course. Who else would I be seeing?”

The pitter-patter of Sweetie’s hooves followed her out the door and down the hall to the stairs. “You know what I mean!” Though Rarity kept her head held high, the curly locks of her sister’s mane bobbed in the corner of her vision. “I know you’re meeting with a client, but who’s your client?”

“Somepony who I am sure would rather be kept anonymous. Like I said, a special client.”

As they walked down the stairs, Rarity could hear the frown in Sweetie’s voice. She didn’t need to look to see the her brow furrowed and her gaze downcast as she tried to piece together the puzzle. “I looked at your calendar for today,” she said, prompting a flick of the ear. “You don’t have anypony else supposed to come in at all.”

Rarity nodded, keeping her smile polite. A good smile, she learned, was an excellent mask, even against the likes of nosy, but endearingly curious, little sisters. The sign by the door was turned to ‘CLOSED’, something she was certain Sweetie would pick up on if she wasn’t hurried on her way. “I don’t want any interruptions. This is a very important opportunity for me, Sweetie, and you know how some ponies can linger over the smallest details.”

To that, Sweetie made a face, the sort that Rarity would have to remind her not to wear in certain circles. “I guess.”

“Good.” Rarity’s smile eased as they walked into the foyer. The mannequins and dress racks usually kept in the middle of the showroom were pushed to the side, leaving the room open and spacious—exactly how it should be for an important dress showing. The dress in question sat in the middle of the room, pulled with care over a mannequin and covered with a blanket. The most important part, naturally, was the reveal.

The stage was set, ready just behind the dress, and the mirrors stood just beyond it. All it needed was its star. And what a star she would be. It may have taken her a couple nights of careful thought and little sleep, but once Rarity found her muse she was oh so happy to let it sweep her off of her hooves. It carried her away, leading her magic and needle until a dress that was simply Spitfire hovered before her, every bit as daring, fiery, and alluring as its soon-to-be owner.

“Now, then,” Rarity said, forcing her gaze back around, “do you have everything?”

Usually, Sweetie Belle would roll her eyes at such a question. This time, however, she stood between Rarity and the door, looking at the stage and covered mannequin. Gears turned behind her pale green eyes, a shade shy of Neighponese jade. “Rarity?”

Rarity smiled, the picture of innocence. One day, Sweetie would see through her mask and games, but not this day. “Yes, Sweetie Belle?”

“This special client coming in,” Sweetie said slowly, her nose wrinkling with each word. When she focused her gaze on Rarity and narrowed her eyes, a bead of sweat formed on the back of the older unicorn’s neck. “How special are they?”

“The special kind, of course.”

Comprehension dawned behind Sweetie’s eyes. Her mouth dropped into a small ‘o’ that she hid behind her hoof. “Is that why you were taking so long brushing your coat and mane?”

Clicking her tongue, Rarity opened the door with a glow of her horn. “Hush now, Sweetie Belle. Such things are far too grown up to discuss with you now. Besides, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo are waiting!” Lifting Sweetie up in her magic, she turned the filly around and nudged her towards the open door. “Go on and play.”

“Rarityyyyy!” A high, plaintive whine sounded from Sweetie’s throat, making Rarity wince and lose focus on her spell. The second her horn winked out, she felt a tugging on her shoulder and a curled mane smelling of her sister’s favourite vanilla shampoo bobbing under her nose. “I’m not a foal anymore! I have a cutie mark now! I know what ‘special’ means and if you want ‘special’ time with your ‘special’ client, then I’ll go!”

Though the filly in her giggled at the heavy-handed implication of Sweetie’s words, Rarity churned out a light, airy laugh in its place. “Now, now, Sweetie. I never said anything like that.” She brushed off the hoof grabbing at her shoulder and smoothed out her coat. “It’s impolite to assume.”

Sweetie pouted with all of the age and experience of a young filly. “But your coat! Your mane! Your everything!”

Rarity shook her head and walked for the door. Sweetie followed, hot on her hooves. “A lady always takes care of their appearance, no matter the occasion.”

Sweetie jumped in front of her as they reached the doorway, foalish stubbornness hardening her expression and steeling her gaze. “Then why were you practicing those faces in the mirror?” she asked, pointing a hoof at Rarity’s chest. “I saw!”

This time, Rarity could not stop the flick of her ear or the way she sucked her lips between her teeth. Caught, but not finished. “Well,” she said, sliding her gaze from left to right. Her mask fallen, she ducked her head. She brought herself eye-to-eye with her sister and let her hopeful, if pained, smile show. “How does thirty bits to buy ice cream and treats with your friends sound?”

The jingling of bits broke Sweetie’s resolve. Her ears perked and her eyes darted over Rarity’s shoulder where a brown cloth bag of bits hovered in her magic. In an instant, she smiled and threw her hooves around her neck. “Thanks, Rarity!”

Rarity swallowed a sigh of relief as she felt Sweetie nuzzle her neck. Patting her back, she said, “Of course, darling. Be careful, but have fun. I’ll see you tonight.”

“You bet!” Springing up, Sweetie grabbed the bits with her own magic’s glow and darted for the door. “Bye, Rarity!”

Rarity let herself sigh now, shoulders sagging as she heard her sister’s saddlebags thump rhythmically against her sides with every galloped step taken out of Carousel Boutique. Though more of an afterthought, she lifted her head and called out, “And no wandering into the Everfree again! If I so much as hear anything, you’ll be grounded for a week!”

She could all but hear Sweetie rolling her eyes as she called back, “I won’t Rarity! I’ll be—” her voice and beating hoofsteps came to a sudden halt. “Captain Spitfire?”

Halfway out of her mouth, Rarity’s sigh turned to something heavier. She brought her hoof to her forehead and massaged a spot under the base of her horn. Of course.

Lighting her horn, she reached for her purse and another small pile of bits within just as Spitfire’s raspy voice tickled her ears. “Hey, kiddo. How’s it going?”

Her best smile in place, Rarity pranced to the door, her bits floating in her wake. It was a sunny day in Ponyville, the perfect weather for her to step outside. There, just outside her door, she found Sweetie Belle staring slack jawed at the pegasus in front of them. Her voice, when she spoke, came out an octave or two higher than usual. “What are you doing here?”

Spitfire, for her part, smiled at Sweetie Belle. She ran a hoof through her mane, as windswept and fiery as it was almost a week ago, and said, “I’m here to see a pony about a dress.” At the sound of Rarity’s hooves, she looked up. When her amber eyes found hers, they lit up, seeming to glow with a colour as soft and as alluring as the sunset. The corner of her mouth lifted, turning her grin to a proper smirk. “Speak of the devil.”

Tilting her head to the side, Rarity felt her grin grow. A certain amount of satisfaction was in order. It wasn’t every day that a muse so bold swept her away. “Spitfire, it’s good to see you. You’re earlier than expected.”

Sweetie gawked, head whipping from side to side as she looked at each pony in turn. “Your ‘special’ appointment with your ‘special’ client is Spitfire?”

“Special, huh?” Feathers ruffled as Spitfire arched a brow.

“Quite,” Rarity said, looking down to her sister. “Sweetie Belle, this is Captain Spitfire. Spitfire, this is my little sister, Sweetie Belle.”

Spitfire cocked her head to the side, looking from Sweetie to Rarity. After a moment, she nodded her head. “Little sister, huh? Should’ve figured. Nice to meet you.”

“I—” Much like a fish, Sweetie’s mouth bobbed open and closed. “Why is Spitfire—”

“Captain Spitfire, Sweetie,” Rarity said, cantering the last few steps to her younger sister’s side. “And I’m sure you can understand why she wants to keep this whole visit hush-hush now, don’t you? She’s just here to try on a dress I’ve made for her. It’s hardly the time for her to be swarmed by her adoring fans.”

“Your sister’s doing me a huge favour,” Spitfire chimed in, sparing a wink for Rarity as she smirked at Sweetie. “And I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anypony that I’m in town.”

Sweetie looked up at Spitfire, eyes still dancing between her and Rarity. “But—” she babbled. “But—”

“But nothing. You heard her, Sweetie.” With a gentle smile, Rarity lifted Sweetie’s chin with her hoof. “I would also consider it quite the favour if you were to keep this to yourself, even from Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. Promise?” The bits hovering behind her floated over and slipped into her sister’s saddlebags. “Do make sure that you all have a good time, though.”

Sweetie licked her lips, pawing the ground with one hoof. Then, with a jerky nod, she sidestepped away from the two mares. “Okay, I won’t tell anypony. I’ll see you after your ‘special’ appointment!”

For the third time this morning, Rarity sighed. As she watched Sweetie take off down the street, she heard Spitfire sidle up next to her. “So,” she started, drawing her attention in with a chuckle, “how long before she tells the whole town?”

Straightening, Rarity glanced to the side, taking her first good look at Spitfire. The sun seemed to wrap around her fur, as smooth as velvet to the eye, and bend around her curves and the toned, taut muscle underneath her coat. Somepony else spent a little extra time brushing today, too. “I don’t think we have to worry about her telling the whole town. Sweetie’s a good girl and she’ll try to keep her word.”

An amused grin spread over Spitfire’s muzzle. “Try?”

“I’m more worried about her friends, you see.” With a fond smile and shake of her head, Rarity exhaled. Not quite a sigh, but close. There had been enough sighs for one day. “Sweetie means well, but she’s not the best at keeping secrets. Her friends will needle it out of her sooner or later.” She turned to Spitfire, flashing a dazzling smile. “All the more reason for us to get started!”

“Sounds good.” Grin still in place, Spitfire followed Rarity as she led them back indoors. Once the door was shut, she stretched out her wings, fluffing her feathers for an audience of one. “So, this is a ‘special’ appointment, huh?” The very tips of her primaries traced over her back, making the fur stand on end where it touched. “How special is ‘special?’”

Though Rarity’s breath wanted nothing more than to catch at the contact, she straightened it out by clearing it through her throat instead. A subtle, delicate touch, easily played off under the guise of stretching after a long flight. Impressive. Her voice as smooth and as composed as ever, she said, “Well, how often does a designer have the Captain of the Wonderbolts order a dress? I’d say this is quite special indeed.”

“I’d say so, too. Maybe for different reasons, though.” Chuckling, Spitfire withdrew her wings. “So, where’s the dress?”

“Right this way.” Rarity waved a hoof and, with a little prance in her step, led Spitfire to the stage and veil in the middle of the room. Her client raised an eyebrow, to which she was delighted to answer. “I thought a showmare such as yourself would appreciate a bit of suspense before the reveal.”

Spitfire cracked a grin. She stopped next to Rarity, close enough for her wing to reach around her barrel if she so wished it, and eyed the mirrors, the stage, and the veiled mannequin. “Can’t say I don’t appreciate the effort.”

Rarity made no move to edge away. She brought her hoof to her chest and lifted her nose to the ceiling. “If you appreciate the dress at least twice as much, then I’ll consider the job done to my satisfaction.”

Again, Spitfire chuckled, a warm, raspy sound. “Setting the bar pretty high for yourself, aren’t you?”

“Darling, please.” Grinning what she knew was a pretty little smile, Rarity fluttered her eyes. “I strive for the best and will settle for nothing less. Surely you of all ponies can understand that.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Spitfire in turn stood her tallest, flexing the muscles around her shoulders as she puffed her fluffy, golden chest out. “I don’t settle for anything other than the best, either, in everything I do. Flying, running my team, and,” she added, grin sharpening to a meaningful smirk, “everything else.”

Rarity returned the chuckle with a tittering laugh. The meaning behind Spitfire’s words was obvious, but there was still business to conduct. “I would expect nothing less. Now then, your dress.” Once more, she cleared her throat as she gestured to her latest masterpiece. “I hope you’ll be as taken as I am with the design. It took some time to find the right inspiration and material, but, in my humble opinion, you’ll be the talk of the ball! I spared no expense, using some of my silk imported from Saddle Arabia as a matter of fact.”

Feathers ruffled by her side as Spitfire nodded. “That’s not cheap stuff to get.”

“Heavens, no. Luckily, I know a friend of a friend who makes occasional business ventures overseas.” The lighting in Carousel Boutique was perfect for Rarity to turn her head and regard Spitfire with the light shining in her eyes. “Besides, for the right mare and the right event, any expense is easily justified.”

The tips of Spitfire’s ears twitched. “Is that so?”

“I would certainly hope so. This will be the ball of balls and you’re not just anypony. I believe that every mare, be they a Wonderbolt or anything else, should have a chance to be radiant.” It may have been wrong for Rarity to delight in the way Spitfire’s eyes widened or how the tips of her wings trembled, but she did anyways. “Now, after having made many dresses for Rainbow Dash over the years, I am aware that sometimes dresses can make flying difficult. I used less material for that reason, and I thought you would appreciate the flexi—”

It wasn’t often that Rarity let her train of thought escape her mid-sentence, but as she felt a certain, soft, downy something graze down her side, she made an exception. Again, the brushing sensation came, threatening to send a shiver across her body. Narrowing her eyes, she looked to her side and, sure enough, found the tips of goldenrod feathers a hair’s breadth from her coat. While Spitfire nodded her head, expression neutral save for the tiny smirk playing across her lips as she stared straight ahead, her primaries ruffled and circled down her barrel, nearing her cutie mark with each pass.

Playful. Bold, risky, but playful. Almost endearingly so.

“I do appreciate it. It’s one of the reasons I don’t dress up much outside of my officer’s uniform,” Spitfire said, eyes flicking over to Rarity. “Something the matter?”

“No, but—” Rarity cleared her throat for a third time to hide a squeak as Spitfire’s feathers trailed down her fur again. “Spitfire, I do believe your wings are wandering where they shouldn’t.”

“Are they?” Amusement coloured Spitfire’s voice, but she fluffed her feathers and withdrew her wings to her sides. “Huh. My bad. Sometimes these puppies have minds of their own. So, this dress.” By Celestia, Rarity could hear the smirk in her tone. It was no wonder Rainbow Dash looked up to her so. “Think I could see it?”

Tail flicking to the side, Rarity took the chance to level Spitfire with a stare. Well, if that’s how it’s going to be ...

With a sudden smile, Rarity gripped the corner of the veil in her magic. “You’re quite right. Enough talk! Let actions, as they say, speak for us.”

As soon as the dress was revealed, Spitfire’s jaw dropped. The smug grin was satisfactorily wiped from her muzzle as her ears perked straight up. “Whoa.”

Smugness was not a quality Rarity liked to associate with. But, in the face of Spitfire’s reaction, it was oh so tempting to pick up where the pegasus left off. “I’m glad you approve. Before you start lavishing me in praise, though, why don’t you try it on?”

And try it on she did. With a little application of magic, the dress slid free of its mannequin and into Spitfire’s waiting hooves. Once the mannequin was removed from the stage, she took its place, sliding the dress over her head and around her barrel. By the time they fitted her wings through, even Rarity had to admit that she had, once more, outdone herself.

As Spitfire turned in slow circles on the stage, watching her reflection in each of the mirrors, Rarity looked on with a keen eye to appreciate her work. Though there were a few pieces to touch up on—adjusting the cuts for the wings for a more relaxed fit, tightening up the back of the dress to better show off Spitfire’s legs and flanks—the pegasus before her was, by any metric, gorgeous.

The colour of the fabric was a natural choice. Spitfire, even the name itself evoked thoughts of the trails of fire she left in the sky. Everything about the mare, from the way she carried herself, to the sound of her voice, to the flamelicked mane and cutie mark on her flank, was defined by a fire that drew ponies in from around her. Red and orange to compliment the golden yellow of her coat, an easy decision to make.

The results, Rarity was proud to observe, were nothing short of spectacular. The dress was, as she promised, scant in terms of quantity of material. While not risque by any means, the cut of the dress was deep enough to allow a tuft of chest fur to peek out from the dress, almost as if to invite a lover to nuzzle deep within. Similarly, the cut in the back of the dress led higher up, inviting gazes of passersby in much the same way to pause and admire Spitfire’s hind legs and offer a teasing glimpse of the toned flank above.

“Marvellous,” Rarity said, clapping her hooves as Spitfire unfurled and spread her wings. “Simply marvellous!”

Like grassfire, Spitfire would sweep across the ballroom.

“It’s ... wow.” Disbelief rang in Spitfire’s voice as she turned and inspected herself in her new dress from every angle. When she turned back to Rarity, her amber, glowing eyes were alight with surprise. A small smile replaced the constant grin or smirk she had grown accustomed to. “I don’t know what to say. I look incredible.”

“I’m inclined to agree.” Hiding her giggle behind her hoof, Rarity started to wander the stage in a slow circle, searching for any imperfections to remedy. “Yes, I think this is the perfect dress for you, Spitfire. All that’s missing,” she said, reaching with her magic for an object resting on one of the mannequins pushed to the side, “is the mask.”

In a field of bright blue, the mask floated over to the stage. Spitfire held herself still while Rarity lowered it over her muzzle. Much like her mane, it was an orange plucked from a wildfire, leaving her eyes bare as two glowing pools of molten amber.

“Voila. The ensemble is complete.”

Spitfire turned, grinning at what she saw in the mirrors. “What gave you the idea?” she asked, tugging on the shoulder of the dress. She angled her wings and swished her tail, watching her reflections all the while. “You said you were looking for your muse. Where’d you find it?”

“I thought you’d never ask!” Smiling brightly, Rarity finished her circle around the stage, stopping before Spitfire. “As I’m sure you’re aware, a pony in my profession has to have a certain eye for detail. When making a custom dress like yours, one has to be able to pick out the best features of the client and make them shine. Now, granted, you gave me plenty to work with.”

At that, Spitfire turned to grin at her. The mask, though a poor disguise, gave her grin a certain air of mysterious allure and heightened the glow of her eyes. How many ponies would be drawn in, captivated by them on the night of the ball? “That a fact?” She fluffed her feathers, spreading her powerful wings. “I noticed your ‘eye for detail’ was pretty fixed around these before.”

Rarity allowed her smile to shift into something decidedly more catlike. “Yes, your wings are quite impressive. Although,” stepping closer, she tilted her head to the side as Spitfire drew her head up to look down at her, “I do believe there’s something more stunning that I don’t think you quite recognize.”

Spitfire blinked. Under her mask, Rarity could see her brow furrowing. “What?”

“It’s quite understandable how they can go overlooked,” Rarity said, a low hum reverberating in her throat. “A Wonderbolt has to pay attention to their body’s fitness, after all. And you are no exception. However, what’s truly most striking about you aren’t your wings, your physique, or even your mane.”

The tips of Spitfire’s wings twitched. “Then what is?”

“Why, your eyes, of course.” Rarity stared up, allowing the smallest of shivers to dance down her spine as she held Spitfire’s gaze. “They remind me of a glowing hearth late at night. Like liquid fire, they are soft, warm, and inviting. And, might I add, beautiful when they light up.”

Even under the orange of her mask, Rarity saw the faintest bit of red blossom over Spitfire’s muzzle. She shifted her weight, rustling her feathers. “Oh. Uh, really?”

Pegasi might like to tease and flirt with their wings, but nothing could compare to deftly chosen words. Giggling, Rarity backed away and turned to the mirrors. “I don’t believe in baseless flattery, Spitfire. Once I found my muse, the rest came naturally.”

In the mirrors’ reflections, Rarity watched Spitfire lick her lips and fluff her feathers. The confidence and swagger she carried herself in with vanished, no doubt evaporated by the heat of the blush that spread over her face.

How could anypony resist?

Fluttering her eyes, Rarity looked back to Spitfire with the most innocent of smiles. “Is something the matter, Spitfire?”

“No, nothing. It’s just, well.” A raspy chuckle sounded from Spitfire’s throat. A near-goofy smile eased over her muzzle as she reached back and scratched at her mane. “Geez, Rarity. Nopony’s talked about me like that before. You’ve made me blush.”

Quite the sight. Who knew Wonderbolts could be adorable? Smiling in turn, Rarity bowed her head. “Then I’ll consider the job done satisfactorily. Now, there are a few adjustments I need to make after this first fitting. Why don’t you come by on Friday to pick it up?”

“Sure.” Feathers fluffing, Spitfire held still while Rarity’s magic lifted the mask off her face, showing how far the blush truly spread, and wiggled out of the dress. She hesitated on the stage, rubbing one foreleg with the other. For a moment, she looked as if she wanted to say something as she opened her mouth, but then closed it with a shake of her head. “Thanks, Rarity.”

With a voice as smooth as silk, Rarity said, “Thank you, Spitfire. You’ve been delightful to work with.”

“And I can’t say I regret making the flight out here.” There was something warmer and less cocky to the smirk Spitfire flashed as she hopped down off of the stage. “You’re something special. See you on Friday?”

Rarity nodded once, setting the dress and mask on their mannequin. “Friday it is.”

“Right. Thanks.” Though she walked across the room to the door, again Rarity found Spitfire linger just a few steps from the doorway. In the mirrors, she watched the pegasus’ tail flick from side to side and her primaries shake and ruffle. “Actually,” she said, looking over her shoulder. The blush was all but gone from her face, leaving her eyes burning a bright, breath-taking amber. “Actually, there was something else.”

Curious, Rarity turned around and raised a single, elegant eyebrow. “Yes?”

A slow, easy smirk pulled at Spitfire’s lips. Just as slowly, she spread her wings wide, fluffing her plumage in a display that Rarity was certain many fans have only dreamt about. At the same time, she stretched one of her hind legs back, flexing the corded, toned muscle all the way from her thigh to curves of her flank. Her tail flicked to the side, and this time there was no stopping Rarity’s breath as it caught in her throat.

Nor was their stopping the fresh, burning blush from turning her pristine white cheeks a rosy red.

“Just a note that pretty, dainty little unicorns like yourself ought to be careful when playing with fire.” Spitfire’s gaze was captivating, almost unfairly so. Her eyes travelled over Rarity’s form and her tail flicked again at the sight of her blush. “If they try,” she said, licking her lips, “then they should get ready for things to get a little toasty.”

With a chuckle that trailed off into a heated purr, Spitfire snapped her wings to her side and trotted out the door. “See you Friday.”

Once more, Rarity was left alone in her boutique.

Once more, Spitfire got the last word. Only this time, Rarity found herself standing with her hoof over her chest and her mouth dry. As her heart slowed down from its frantic beating and as her breath unhitched itself from her throat, she slowly lowered her hoof to the floor, still staring at the door.

Spitfire’s—oh, there was no other way to describe it—breathy chuckle echoed in her ears. The look in her eyes rooted Rarity to the spot.

Oh. So that was how it’s going to be?

Turning back to her mannequins and mirrors, Rarity let out a little chuckle of her own. “Very well, Spitfire,” she purred, tracing a hoof over the mare’s dress. “If that’s how you want to play, then let the games begin in earnest.”

Two days passed, and Rarity sat in her kitchen. A cup of chamomile tea, a personal favourite, rested before her. Honey and cream added, it had cooled just enough for her to take a cautious slow sip. The date on the calendar was circled in red, though she doubted she needed the reminder.

Once more, she found herself waiting. Spitfire did not say when she would arrive. It was, in all respects, an obvious move. What better way to wind a pony up than to leave them waiting for potentially hours on end?

A sly and, if what Sweetie Belle told her was true, wicked grin spread over Rarity’s lips. Well, if that was the best Spitfire could do, then she was about to find herself thoroughly outclassed. The stretching show may have caught her off guard and may have tantalized her dreams the last two nights, but when it came to matters of finesse and romance few could hope to outdo her.

She lifted her cup to her lips in the glow of her magic and took another sip. Relishing in the warmth that spread through her, she sighed and let her gaze drift out the window. If this was how Spitfire wanted to play, then Rarity would be quite content to wait all day. With no other appointments, no orders, and Sweetie Belle out on a day trip with her friends and Fluttershy, there was nothing to distract her from what would come with patience.

And, she thought, grinning around the rim of her cup, nothing to distract her from the satisfaction of what was to come. Her eyes wandered back inside and to her kitchen table where, laying across from her, was a small card. Gold filigree in the shape of leaves on a vine wrapped around the edges of the card, more expensive than three of Applejack’s beloved apple pies at the market. What brought the smile to Rarity’s face the most, however, was what lay inside.

To Miss Rarity of Ponyville,

Your hosts, Jet Set and Upper Crust, have cordially invited you to attend the annual Canterlot Masquerade Ball.

Please present this card upon your arrival to be admitted. You are welcome to bring one guest.

We look forward to seeing you soon.

Reading the card brought a warm chuckle from Rarity’s chest and a swish of her tail. Oh yes, the stage was set. Soon, very soon, the real fun could begin.

The bell jingled above the front door, bringing with it a familiar, expected, and wanted voice. “Knock, knock?”

Rarity set her cup down on her saucer. With a smile and small giggle to herself, she slid out of her chair and lifted the garment bag from where it lay draped over another chair to lay across her back. She paused only to test the bounce of her mane against her hoof and smooth down the fur on her chest before walking out of the kitchen.

At long last, it was show time.

Spitfire stood just inside the doorway. When her eyes landed on Rarity, they lit up. “Hey.”

“Good afternoon, Spitfire.” Tail perked, dazzling smile in place, and each step measured, precise, and graceful, Rarity pranced across the room. “I hope your flight to Ponyville wasn’t a difficult one.”

To that, Spitfire chuckled. “With these at my side?” As expected, she was eager for an excuse to show off her wings once more. Breathtaking as they were, Rarity was prepared as she flared them wide and proud. The pegasus cocked her head to the side and smirked. “There’s no flight I can’t handle. I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”

Rarity merely smiled in response. “Nonsense! I was quite happy to clear my schedule for the day. You, Spitfire, are my sole focus.”

Feathers fluffing, Spitfire’s smirk blossomed into a full grin. She wiggled her ears and said, “Anypony ever tell you you know exactly what to say to make a mare feel appreciated?”

“Not nearly as often as they should. Now, about your dress.” Horn lit, Rarity lifted the garment off of her back. It floated over to Spitfire wreathed in the sapphire blue of her magic before it settled over the other mare’s shoulders. “All of the proper adjustments have been made. Do be careful when you pack and unpack it, though. Saddle Arabian silk has a tendency to wrinkle if not handled properly.”

Spitfire eyed the garment bag, nodding her head though her ears were still trained forward, listening to every word. “Got it. How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, forget the price tag for now, darling.” Waving her hoof, Rarity fluttered her eyes. “We can settle that score once you’ve had a chance to stun everypony at the masquerade ball tomorrow evening. I want to know exactly how many heads you turn before I put a final price on anything.”

“I plan on turning heads,” Spitfire said, shifting her gaze back to Rarity. Her eyes seemed to smolder with heat, threatening to draw a pony in if there weren’t careful. “Maybe not just because of the dress, though. Now that we’re on the subject, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

Rarity fought down a smirk to rival Spitfire’s. Instead, she tilted her head to the side, smiling an innocent little smile. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” With a little swagger adding a bit of sway to her strut, Spitfire walked a few steps closer. Her eyes, though not quite lidded, were certainly inviting. How many more dresses could Rarity design if she followed such a muse? “You know, my invitation to this ball has a big ol’ ‘plus one’ attached to it. How would you feel about waltzing into the biggest ball of the year on one of the luckiest pony’s forelegs?”

Rarity’s gasp may have been a tad more theatric than necessary, but where was the fun without a little flare? “Spitfire!” Covering her smile with her hoof, she forced her eyes wide as she stared back at the Wonderbolt Captain. “That sounded like you were just asking me to the masquerade ball!”

“Funny.” With her grin showing teeth, Spitfire held out her hoof. “That’s because that’s exactly what I’m doing. What do you say?”

Now there was no stopping Rarity’s giggle as it bubbled forth from her chest. “Oh, darling, that is so sweet of you to offer.” Reaching out, she patted Spitfire’s offered hoof, eliciting a confused furrow of the brow. Her smile, in turn, was as delightful as it could possibly be. “But I’m afraid I’m nopony’s ‘plus one.’ I am Rarity, after all!”

Slowly, Spitfire blinked, processing Rarity’s words. Then, as understanding doused the fire behind her eyes, she lowered her hoof in time with her ears. “Oh. Uh, sorry. I think I might’ve misread some signals or—”

“Besides,” Rarity continued, quite happy to interrupt Spitfire and lift her gaze back up, “how could I be your ‘plus one’ when I have an invitation of my own?”

Again, Spitfire blinked. Her ears started to perk back up as she asked, “You do?”

“But of course! Jet Set and Upper Crust are acquaintances of mine. How could I not have received one? In fact ...” In a single, polished movement, Rarity sidled up close. She felt the tips of their coat hairs brush together as she held the pegasus’ gaze. There was a definite risk, she knew, of getting lost in the amber eyes that filled her vision. But, at the same time, she knew there was just as good a chance of Spitfire getting enchanted by her own glittering, sapphire-blue eyes. “I was hoping to run into you there.”

To her delight, the bravado Spitfire carried with her vanished. The tips of her primaries ruffled and fluttered as she drew herself up to her tallest. “Oh?”

Now, Rarity thought, the fun begins.

“Why, yes.” She gently poked and traced her hoof over Spitfire’s chest, feeling the taut, toned muscle beneath her smooth, soft fur and the beating of her heart. “And, if you’re still interested to see me there, then I believe I have a little idea.”

Spitfire’s wings twitched, as if they wanted to unfurl. For a second, Rarity saw Spitfire bite down on the corner of her lip, no doubt struggling to keep them folded at her sides.

Similarly, Rarity had to bite down on her own smile.

“Well,” Spitfire said, her voice dropping to a huskier and more spine-shivering octave, “I’m listening.”

Few ponies could claim to have tut-tutted a Wonderbolt Captain, and Rarity was proud to be one of them. “Now, now, Spitfire, take it easy. We haven’t even started yet.” Her grin spoke volumes as she lightly pushed her away. The muscle of Spitfire’s chest didn’t give, not even a little. “There is a certain allure in the air of mystery at these kinds of masquerade balls, don’t you think?”

Spitfire wrinkled her muzzle at the question. “I guess?”

“Oh, but there is!” A whimsical, forlorn, and entirely practiced sigh floated past Rarity’s lips. “It’s what makes attending them so much fun! You could flirt the entire night away with some masked stranger, only for them to reveal themselves at midnight as the Duchess-in-Waiting of Breighton!” She brought her hoof to her forehead, fixing Spitfire with an enrapturing stare. “It’s a night of romance.”

The tip of Spitfire’s tail danced and flicked out of the corner of Rarity’s eye. “You know, that actually doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Doesn’t it? But,” another sigh, this one heavy, tumbled down from Rarity’s lips, “unfortunately, I know exactly what you will be wearing. That ruins some of the mystery. Although ...”

“Although?”

There was little point in hiding her smirk, so Rarity let it form and glitter in her eyes. “You don’t know what I’ll be wearing, don’t you?”

Spitfire frowned. “What’re you getting at?”

Now. Fluttering her eyelashes, she trailed her hoof down Spitfire’s chest. “Well, it’s quite simple, really. You’re the kind of pony who likes a challenge, aren’t you?” As both of her goldenrod ears perked up, Rarity giggled. “I thought so. Good, because I have a little challenge in mind for you, Captain.”

“A challenge, huh?” With her lips cocked to a smirk, Spitfire chuckled and licked her lips. “You know what challenging a pegasus can lead to, right?”

“Yes, I’m quite aware how seriously you pegasi can get with your challenges.”

“And you remember what I said about playing with fire?” A bit of heat flashed behind Spitfire’s eyes as she caught Rarity’s hoof with her own. “Because I think a certain dainty little unicorn is about to get burned.”

Snatching her hoof away, Rarity met Spitfire’s gaze with all of the confidence and calm a career spent navigating the higher social circles of Canterlot nobility could give. “Oh, I think you’ll find I’m quite adept at handling myself. Are you interested?”

“Very.”

“Good, because your challenge,” Rarity said, drawing her hoof over her chest and lifting her nose to the ceiling, “is to find me at the ball before midnight.”

“Interesting.” Spitfire hummed. “And what do I get when I find you?”

“Spoilers, darling.” Tittering out a gay, airy laugh, Rarity smiled her most devious smile. She knew then that there was no way Spitfire could resist. “If you find me, then you’ll get a mystery prize.”

Spitfire’s brow arched. Amusement and, if Rarity dared to think so herself, delight played over her features. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’s this ‘mystery prize?’”

“And ruin the mystery?” In turn, Rarity arched her brow. “You’re just going to have to find me if you want to find out. But, I can promise one thing.” Grinning her delightfully wicked grin, she stretched up until the puffs of her breath tickled Spitfire’s ear. “If you find me, your prize will be waiting to be unwrapped.”

There was a rush of wind as Spitfire’s wings flared out. Rarity heard the breath catch in her throat and, satisfied, pulled away. She was treated to a strangled squeak as she spun around, brushing her tail along the other mare’s chest and snout as she stepped away. A little over the top? Maybe. But still, it was a performance worthy of any Wonderbolt.

“You will have to find me first, of course,” she said, grinning over her shoulder. “Do you think you’re up to the task, Spitfire?”

It took a second for Spitfire to shake the stunned, smitten look from her face. She shook her head, folded her wings, and cleared her throat—though it did little to clear to blush from her muzzle. Red was indeed a lovely colour on her. When she did find her composure, she strutted forward, closing the little distance between them. “Oh, I’m up to the challenge alright.” Eyes glowing, something between a purr and a growl built up in her chest. “And when I find you, I’m so—”

Rarity silenced Spitfire with a pristine white hoof over her lips. “Ah, ah, ah! Save it for the ball, darling. Let’s savour the moment until then, shall we?”

Though her eyes flashed, Rarity felt Spitfire grin around her hoof. Slowly, she cupped it with her own hoof and gently pulled it away. “Okay, Rarity. I’ll play it your way. But just remember, when I find you at the ball tomorrow,” she said, kissing the unicorn’s wrist, “I expect to collect.”

“And I’d be happy to let you,” Rarity said, smiling in return. “If you find me.”

Poor Spitfire had no idea what she was getting herself into.

3. Crackling Fire

Though they were not royalty by any means, when Upper Crust and Jet Set hosted a ball, party, or soiree, they competed in terms of extravagance and glamour with the likes of the Grand Galloping Gala. Their annual masquerade ball was by no means an exception. As Rarity presented her invitation, was welcomed inside with a bow by the butler in the gardens, and ushered through the high-arched set of double doors, she felt like a proper princess.

She had hardly made it five steps into the ballroom before a passing server offered her a glass of champagne, one that she accepted in the delicate glow of her magic and nod of thanks. While he hurried off to attend to more guests, she swirled her flute and took her first sip of the night. A giggle threatened to escape her lips as the bubbly drink tingled her tastebuds and tickled its way down her throat.

“Isn’t this just marvellous?” A wistful, content sigh floated past her lips as she weaved her way through the sizeable crowd of ponies to an empty cocktail table. Setting her drink down, she looked from one masked pony to the next. Coat colour, manes, and tails could easily give a pony away, but the sheer number and the flamboyance of their dress kept the shroud of mystery intact. Anypony could be anypony, duke, duchess, businesspony, or humble seamstress.

The clunk of a glass down on the table across from her made her ears flick, and she turned to regard her companion with a smile every bit as bright and dazzling as she felt. After another sip, she set her flute down and didn’t bother to stop the giggle this time. “It’s even more magnificent than I imagined!”

“It is very impressive,” Twilight Sparkle said, a smaller, more contained smile on her face as her eyes wandered the crowd. It had taken a combination of pleading, pouting, promising, and persisting to convince the alicorn to accompany her to the ball, but Rarity knew exactly how to wear her friend down. A Princess, even one of her reputation, needed to keep up a certain social standing, after all. What better event that the ball of balls to do exactly that?

Besides, with what lay in wait for tonight, a friend waiting in the wings could be quite beneficial.

A string quartet started to play across the room, bringing the ball to life with a symphony of strings that made Rarity’s heart soar. The moon had already risen, weaving the skies with an endless infinity of stars and not a cloud in sight to blemish the view. Tonight, she knew, was a night for romance. It sang in the music, twinkled in the skies, and resonated in the atmosphere with a note so clear that it made her shiver.

Soon, very soon. Instead of a wistful sigh, another fit of giggles bubbled up from her chest. “Isn’t it though?”

“I only attended these kinds of events when I was Princess Celestia’s student when I absolutely had to. I have to admit, it’s actually really nice so far.” Twilight lifted her glass and took a slow sip of champagne, and Rarity followed her gaze as it travelled upwards, stretching upwards to the high-vaulted ceiling and the brass chandeliers that hung there. Their warm candlelight spilled over the ballroom and over the guests who talked, laughed, and danced as the ball truly got underway.

The smile that had only started to grow on her face flickered for a moment when her gaze dropped back down. “Um, Rarity?” Feathers ruffling, she shifted her weight and looked to the side. One hoof reached up for her mulberry mask before it lowered to tug on the neckline of her midnight-blue dress. Though it was a rush job, it did a fabulous job of shining like the stars in the night sky—or, given the proper suitor, like the stars that shined in her eyes or seemed to glisten in her mane. “Are you sure it was a good idea for me to come?”

Rarity blinked, tilting her head to the side. “Of course it was, darling. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, I’m not sure this is the right place for staying involved in Equestrian social life.” Another ruffle of Twilight’s feathers shook her wings. She chewed the corner of her lip. “And I don’t really think this mask is doing a good job of hiding who I am.”

Arching a brow, Rarity glanced to the side where Twilight’s gaze darted. There, a few ponies spoke, looking their way every few words. “Ah,” she said, smiling warmly and draining the last of her champagne. “Well, you can hardly blame them, Twilight. I don’t believe Upper Crust and Jet Set have had any of their balls graced by a princess before.”

Twilight ducked her head as a few more ponies looked their way. “Maybe I should have cast a spell to hide my wings or something.”

“Nonsense! This just makes you the belle of the ball!” Rarity reached out and patted Twilight’s shoulder. “Don’t think about them. Let them watch, I say, while you enjoy the ball! If you really want to, slip outside and cast your little spell, but the night is yours.”

“I guess.” As her eyes wandered the dance floor and the servers weaving through the crowd carrying trays of hors d'oeuvres, her ears slowly perked back up. The smile peeked back through and a small giggle brought it back to its fullest. “This does look like fun. It’s a shame the rest of the girls couldn’t come, though.”

“Next year, darling. For now, I say we enjoy ourselves.” Rarity met the eyes of every pony who looked their way, searching for any flash of amber or for a streak of wildfire poking up from the crowd. A frown almost marred her expression, but she caught it in time and turned to Twilight. “Besides, when has being a princess ever stopped you from having fun at one of these parties, hmm?”

Again, Twilight giggled. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Aren’t I always?” They shared a smile, Twilight’s carefree and Rarity’s a shade more sly. From where they stood at their table, she was offered a clear view of the entryway. A steady stream of ponies trickled in, all wearing their best dresses, suits, and masks. When a streak of wildfire bobbed in through the doors, her eyes widened a hair and her heart skipped a beat.

Clearing her throat, Rarity lifted her empty glass in her magic. “Now, I think I’m going to find myself another drink and something to eat from one of those gentlecolts. Would you care for anything?”

Twilight hummed, lifting her half-full glass in the mulberry aura of her magic. “A little something to eat would be nice.”

“Ask, and you shall receive. Hold our table, and I’ll be back in just a moment.” With Twilight’s nod of approval, Rarity turned and swept off deeper into the ballroom. Even if Spitfire saw the flick of her tail or glance she tossed over her shoulder, she would have to work her way through a tide of ponies to reach her.

And, as she glanced back, she found that not even a minute passed before a brave pair of ponies approached Twilight. Others soon followed, creating a wall of fuzzy bodies between Rarity, her friend, and her Wonderbolt.

Her smile sharpened to something much more devious and she giggled as she waded across the ballroom, trading pleasantries and bows with ponies along the way. “Sorry, darling,” she said to herself as she hovered her empty glass to a serving colt passing by, “but I’m afraid that ‘moment’ might have to last a little longer than planned.”

Many moments had indeed passed by the time Rarity made it to the other side of the ballroom. A new glass of champagne hovered by her side as she lingered by one of the many windows overlooking the estate gardens. Even under the pale light of the waning moon, she could see the trickling of water out of the fountain spout and the well-trimmed hedges around it.

Her focus, however, was on the ballroom floor. Lifting her glass to her lips, she hummed as she surveyed the crowd, searching for any ruffling of goldenrod feathers, the flash of brilliant amber eyes, or the appearance of a mane like wildfire.

When she saw none, she allowed herself a smile and a congratulatory sip. This would be a game Spitfire would not win so easily.

In fact ...

A low, quiet, and heated chuckle rumbled in the back of her throat as the most wickedly delightful thought crossed her mind. Spitfire’s terms and prize were clear. If she found Rarity before midnight, the prize was hers for the taking. What they didn’t decide in Carousel Boutique was what she would win if she eluded her pursuer.

Rarity swirled the champagne in her glass and licked her lips, savouring the light, sweet taste lingering there. Perhaps, if she won, it would only be fair for her to unwrap a prize of her own.

From behind her, somepony cleared their throat. When they spoke, their voice litted and flowed with all the smoothness and sophistication of Canterlot’s finest. “Are you enjoying the ball, my dear?”

Smiling pleasantly, Rarity turned to greet the pony. She stopped short, however, when she met the light blue of his eyes. Though he wore a mask in place of the usual monocle that covered his moustache, the wavy, coiffed blue of his mane and the stark white of his coat gave him away to even those who did not know him. To those that did, the ever-polite smile belying a surprisingly coltish sense of mischief and unwavering kindness made any disguise or costume next to useless.

Rarity relaxed her smile. “Indeed I am. It’s quite the spectacle, is it not? I can see why it’s the talk of Canterlot every year.”

Fancy Pants, for his part, chuckled. “Yes, it’s one of my favourite events of the year. Fleur insists that we come separately, though.” The smallest of sighs slipped past his lips, though his smile only softened. He lifted a champagne glass of his own to his lips and looked over Rarity’s head, eyes scanning the crowd. “I feel so naked without attending with her at my side, but once my darling has her heart set on something there’s little I can do to change her mind.”

Taking the opportunity to follow his gaze and search for her would-be chaser once more, Rarity offered a sigh in turn. No sign of Spitfire. Surely she could spare a few moments for conversation. “I can only imagine,” she said, turning back to Fancy Pants. “You two make quite the charming couple. Is there any particular reason she insists on coming separately?”

“My Fleur is many things, romantic among them.” Fancy shook his head, sipping the last from his glass and floating it to a passing server in a single, fluid motion. “We met at a masquerade ball, you know.”

To that, Rarity flicked an ear. “Really?” Though she need not ask it, she did anyways. Places of mystery that breed romance, indeed!

“Not this particular masquerade.” He lifted his hoof, reaching for where his monocle usually sat. One of his forces of habit, Rarity had learned, was to polish his monocle when wandering down memory lane. When his hoof met his mask, he frowned very slightly.

Rarity stifled a giggle. “Then where?”

With a light shake of his head, Fancy’s gaze refocused and his smile returned. “It was in Prance. I was there on business, you see, and was invited to one of the aristocrat’s little soirees. That was where I met Fleur.” A warmer, fond laugh floated out of his mouth. He looked back up to the crowd, no doubt searching for his wife. “It was love at first sight, and I did not rest until I convinced her to let me steal her away back to Canterlot. Ever since, whenever we attend a masquerade ball, she insists on arriving separately so that we can find each other once again.”

Were she anywhere else and surrounded by any other company, Rarity may have giggled in the most unsociable and most fillylike way. Instead, she managed to make herself settle for a dreamy sigh. “That’s so very romantic.”

“I like to think so. She wouldn’t even let me see what she would be wearing.” The corner of his lips twitched, a subtle sign that Rarity knew to watch out for. “But would I be wrong in assuming that I’m not alone in looking for a specific pony tonight?”

All at once, the hairs on the back of Rarity’s neck stood on end. She fluttered her eyes, smiling as innocently as she could. “Why, whatever do you mean?”

She felt his eyes on her as he arched a brow over his mask. “My mistake, Miss Rarity. I suppose I must be mistaken. You mean to say you haven’t been combing across the ballroom floor, looking for somepony?” He jerked his head to the side, gesturing to where she left Twilight. “I believe Princess Twilight is currently over there, getting acquainted with her most adoring subjects.”

The tip of Rarity’s tail twitched. “Oh, good,” she said, pouring relief into her voice as she wiped her brow. “I thought I’d never find her again! We got separated after I went to get us some drinks and hors d'oeuvres.”

Fancy hummed and plucked a tiny plate from another passing server’s tray. He regarded the cheese-stuffed mushroom in his magic for a second before biting into it. “You know, I would be tempted to believe you.” The corner of a grin poked out from behind the handkerchief he produced from his suit jacket pocket. “And I might, if it weren’t for the fact that Princess Twilight stands out quite clearly. The wings and horn make it a tad easy to spot her from across the room.”

Rarity’s smile began to feel the slightest bit strained as she looked to the side and coughed. “Well, I suppose that is true.”

“Not to mention the sizeable crowd of ponies gathered around her.”

Her smile faltered almost entirely. “Yes, there is that.”

“With all that in consideration,” he said, finishing the mushroom. He tucked his handkerchief away after he wiped his muzzle. “It leaves a stallion to wonder who a pretty, young, single mare such as yourself might be looking for on a night like tonight. Fleur may be rubbing off on me more than I realized, but a stallion would be tempted to say you have your own masked romance waiting out there for you.”

“Romance?” Grateful for the mask concealing the warmth she felt licking across her muzzle, she cleared her throat and found herself quite unable to meet Fancy’s gaze. “I wouldn’t necessarily call it that, Fancy Pants. At least, well, not quite yet.”

Rarity didn’t need to look to see amusement twinkle in the corner of his eyes. “Ah, I see. Well, whatever you want to call it, would I be safe to say that I’m on the right track?”

“Perhaps.” Something red and gold flickered in her peripheral vision. When Rarity turned to look, it vanished. A slight frown tugged at her lips while the stallion beside her chuckled. Narrowing her eyes, she fixed him with a glare. “And stallions of your stature should know better than to ask questions they shouldn’t.”

The glare did little to diminish his amusement. On any other pony, she would have called his expression smug. “Really now?”

The music and ponies around them were the only things that kept Rarity’s shoulders from slumping as she sighed. “Oh, fine! If you absolutely must know, I’m looking for Captain Spitfire.”

Fancy’s eyebrow rose well over his mask. “Captain Spitfire? I wasn’t aware that you two were so well acquainted.”

“We’ve known each other for a little while now through my friend, Rainbow Dash. It’s only been recently that we’ve spent time together.” The smile on Fancy’s face was knowing, drawing the blush further across her muzzle. “Quite recently, in fact.”

“Fascinating. It’s always quite amusing in hindsight how these little things work out, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.” Though she wanted to chew on the corner of her lip, Rarity persevered. “Spitfire and I have a little wager going on tonight.”

Somehow, Fancy’s eyebrow rose further.

“I won’t bore you with all of the details,” Rarity said, fixing her smile on her face and waving her hoof as if to push a slurry of unasked questions away. “But the game is to see if she can find me before midnight tonight at the ball. So, really, I’m only trying to figure out where she is, you see.” As she felt his eyes on her, she looked to the side at the shoulder strap of her dress. While nothing extravagant or as fabulous as she would usually wear, the sleek, simple design was elegant in its own way. The purple fabric was soft to the touch, complimented her mane, and, most importantly, was simple to enough to help her blend into the crowd. “So I can avoid getting caught.”

“Aha. I see. Well, in that case,” he said, his faded blue eyes glancing over her shoulder. As they did, there was no denying the smirk that played over his lips. “You may want to make yourself scarce, my dear Rarity. She’s right over there, and heading this way.”

Rarity froze, though she dare not look back. “Has she noticed me?”

Fancy shook his head, a rather coltish mirth colouring his voice. “No, I’d wager not quite yet. It’s only a matter of time, though.”

Taking a chance, she followed Fancy’s gaze and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, dear,” she breathed. Just a few cocktail tables down stood Spitfire. Though her back was turned to them, Rarity felt her mouth begin to dry, torn between admiring the mare and her own craftsmanship. Without thinking, her eyes followed the length of a toned, goldenrod leg as it disappeared behind the fabric of the dress right below the mare’s cutie mark. Her tail of wildfire flicked, licking over her leg as her feathers ruffled.

In the candlelit ballroom, there was no denying it. Spitfire was gorgeous, enough so that Rarity only just acknowledged the chuckle that rumbled past Fancy’s lips. “She looks quite stunning, wouldn’t you say? One of your pieces?”

“Yes,” Rarity said, the only answer both questions needed. She watched for a second longer before she turned to Fancy with an easy, bordering-on-sly smile. “Thank you, Fancy. Would you be a dear and stall her for me?”

Again, he chuckled. Then again, he always got that way after a few glasses of champagne. “I shall, but only because this seems like it could prove entertaining.”

“If Spitfire wasn’t headed this way, I’d be tempted to ask what you mean by that.”

A knowing grin was his only response as she slipped away, disappearing back into the crowd of ponies. Over the music, she heard Fancy greet Spitfire. “Ah, Captain Spitfire. Is that you behind that mask?”

The voice that replied was raspy, somewhat irritated, and freely sent a shiver down Rarity’s spine. “Hey, Fancy Pants. Yeah, it’s me. Say, you haven’t seen Rarity around here anywhere, have you?”

“I have indeed! You just missed her, actually.” At the tone of his voice, Rarity paused by a curtain drape a window down. She glanced over her shoulder, watching as Fancy regarded Spitfire with a wide, toothy smile that morphed into a thoughtful frown as he spoke. “She was wearing a, um, oh, bother. What colour dress was it again? Blue? No, no, something purple, I think. Maybe it was something in-between? My apologies, Captain. Too much champagne already, I fear!”

Spitfire’s tail twitched and Rarity could imagine her growl. Just as she started to turn, Fancy spoke up again. “Oh, but I can tell you about her mane!”

Spitfire’s ear flicked. “Yeah?”

“She was wearing it in a, ah,” Fancy started, his frown deepening. He tapped his hoof to his chin and Rarity had to resist the urge to roll her eyes and laugh. “Well, I’m no expert when it comes to manes. It kind of had a swirl, if you know what I mean. But also held back?”

Before Spitfire had a chance to look away, Rarity took the chance to wade further into the crowd, swishing her tail as she pranced across the floor. Her eyes wandered over to a grandfather clock of grandfather clocks against the far wall and grinned.

“Only an hour left, my dear Captain,” she murmured to herself. “Do keep up.”

Fancy, bless the gentlecolt’s heart, could only keep Spitfire occupied for so long. Only taking the time to smile and nod at those who greeted her, Rarity weaved her way across the ballroom. Even if her Wonderbolt saw her hasty retreat, she would have to work to find her again.

Grinning to herself, she looked over her shoulder. A soft laugh sounded from her chest when she again saw no sign of Spitfire. Before she could take a moment to revel in the victory, as small as it was, she bumped into something warm, soft, and furry. Feathers twitched and brushed against her, making her eyes go wide.

“I do beg your pardon,” she said, turning to face the pony she walked into. She kept a calm, polite smile on her face while her heart leapt into her throat. A more rational side of her wagered it was too soon to have been found so quickly. Another romantic, impatient side of her pleaded for the opposite. “I wasn’t paying any attention to—Twilight?” Before she stopped to think, she exhaled. “Thank goodness. I thought you were Spitfire.”

The pony in front of her blinked, shook out her feathers, and peered at Rarity from behind a mulberry mask. “Rarity?” Twilight tilted her head to the side. Then, eyes narrowing, her tail flicked behind her as she wrinkled her snout. “Rarity!”

A lady never perspired, but the look Twilight leveled her with almost made Rarity start to sweat. “It’s good to see you! Darling, I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“And I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” The tips of Twilight’s primaries twitched and flicked, matching the petulant tone of her voice. “Where have you been?”

Eyes darting left and right, Rarity smiled a smile that perhaps contained too many teeth. She spotted a server walking by, offering a circle of ponies champagne, and reached out with her magic to whisk two glasses away. “Drinks! I found those drinks I went out to look for!”

A glass bobbed in the air by Twilight’s muzzle, waiting for her to take it in her magic. Instead, she furrowed her brow, looking from the flute to Rarity. Her brilliant purple eyes narrowed as she puffed out a breath from her nostrils. “You said you were going to find food over an hour ago.”

Well, even a lady was allowed to sweat once in a blue moon. “Oh, did I?” Rarity asked, her laugh a little too stilted, even to her own ears. “Well, I am sorry! I got so preoccupied that I admit it must have slipped my mind.”

“I slipped your mind?” Twilight’s brow arched high, rising over her mask and disappearing behind her bangs. “Where were you for the last hour? Do you have any idea how long I waited at that table for you while ponies kept on coming up to shake my hoof and ask for royal favours?”

“Oh, that.” Rarity cleared her throat, stepping to the side and taking a long sip from her new glass. It may have been her fourth glass, but tonight of all nights she needed it. “Well, you see,” she started, gaze flickering over to the other side of the room. Was that a flash of red she saw? “Fancy caught me.”

Twilight’s brows flatlined, bringing her voice to a familiar deadpan. “And he talked to you for a whole hour?”

“Oh, well, it wasn’t just him,” Rarity said with an airy wave of her hoof. Though her mask hid the sweat forming on her brow, it certainly made the room feel stuffier than it should.

The frown on Twilight’s face spoke volumes. “You said you thought I was Spitfire.” Her brow furrowed, and suddenly Rarity felt as if her mask did little to hide her expression at all. “Why would you think that? Is she here?”

“Spitfire? Er, well, yes!” Holding her composure, Rarity resisted the urge to scratch her neck and swallowed another mouthful of champagne instead. “Haven’t you seen her?”

“No, but something’s going on.” Eyes narrowed, Twilight placed her drink on the nearest cocktail table. She took a step forward, prompting Rarity to take a step back. “First, you insist that I come to this ball, and then you abandon me for an hour. It’s got something to do with Spitfire, doesn’t it?”

There was no denying it. A bead of sweat trailed down Rarity’s forehead. Under Twilight’s analytical stare, how could anypony blame her? “Maybe?”

“What is it?”

Again, Rarity waved her hoof and hoped her laugh wasn’t as manic as she thought. “Oh, nothing you need concern yourself with, darling!”

Twilight’s eyes glanced over Rarity’s shoulder. “Okay, then.” Fluffing her feathers, she lifted her head as a smile spread across her muzzle. “I’ll just go ask Spitfire, then.”

Rarity’s eyes widened and a gasp flew by her lips before she could think to stop it. “No! You can’t!”

“I can,” Twilight said, pointing behind Rarity as her smile warped into a smirk. Clearly, Rainbow Dash was a horrible influence on Equestrian Royalty. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s her over there. Isn’t that the dress you made for her?”

Her posture rigid, Rarity followed Twilight’s outstretched hoof. Though her tail swished at the sight of Spitfire, her ears drooped down. “It is, but you can’t!”

Rarity saw the flicker of Twilight’s smile as she started to walk around her and towards Spitfire. “Why not?”

Her actions, Rarity knew, were in all likelihood a show to make her confess. Despite that, she could not stop herself from latching onto her friend’s foreleg with her magic or skittering around to block Twilight’s path. “Because you’ll spoil everything!”

“Spoil what?” Much like Fancy, amusement twinkled in Twilight’s eyes despite the frown on her face. “Answers, Rarity.”

Rarity let out something between a whine and a sigh. “Okay, but not right here. Not where she can easily spot us.” Glancing left to right, she gestured for Twilight to follow her. The alicorn rolled her eyes, but followed as she was led further down the room.

Once they stopped with Twilight’s back facing Spitfire, Rarity took a second to search the crowd. About halfway down the room was her would-be pursuer. Even from this distance, she could see how the pegasus’ feathers ruffled as she looked from side to side. The tip of her tail flicked as she eyed each pony, no doubt searching for any sign of snow-white coat and mane of royal purple.

And, Rarity noted with some pride, with the way the dress billowed and weaved with every step, Spitfire did indeed look like a one-pony fire sweeping over the ballroom floor.

“Alright,” Twilight said, making Rarity blink. “Now, what’s this whole thing about, Rarity?”

“Ah, yes.” Though she kept watch on Spitfire out of the corner of her eye, Rarity focused for the time being on Twilight. Goodness knew her friend deserved at least that much. “Well, you see, to make a long story short Spitfire and I have a little wager going on tonight.”

Twilight arched her brow. “What kind of wager?”

A lady could also be excused of chewing her lip when in the company of her closest friends, or so Rarity told herself. Twilight’s eyes bored into her, drawing the truth from her whether she wished it or not. “The kind where if she finds me before midnight she gets a, ah, ‘mystery prize.’ She came to my boutique a little over a week ago,” she said, answering her friend’s next question before it could be voiced. “I suppose you could say one thing led to another. We flirted some when she came in for her fitting and again when she came to pick up her dress and, well, here we are.”

“Okay.” Expression twisted into a thoughtful frown, Twilight nodded. She tilted her head to the side, eyes bouncing from over her shoulder to Rarity. “Then why did you insist I come?”

Rarity ducked her head, having the grace to offer a bashful smile. “I hoped by having you here I would have a little help in case Spitfire started to get a little too close to finding me.”

In an instant, Twilight’s brows flattened. Her lips pulled into a thin, narrow line and Rarity felt as if she were about to be scolded by her schoolteacher. “Let me get this straight. You basically dragged me here to use me as a distraction in case Spitfire caught on to you?”

Rarity’s darted from left to right, her smile strained. “Have I told you how much I love you? And how wonderful a friend you truly are?” At Twilight’s grumbled mutterings, she dared to inch closer and rest a hoof on her friend’s shoulder. “Twilight, please. I am sorry I abandoned you for so long. I didn’t intend to, but I suppose this whole episode with Spitfire has muddled my thoughts.”

A long, defeated sigh fell from Twilight’s lips. She lifted her head, a small, bemused smile playing over her face. “Cadence said this kind of stuff messes with a pony’s head.”

The implications of that statement alone made the fur on the nape of Rarity’s neck stand on end and her breath catch. She failed to meet her friend’s eye as she bounced her mane on her hoof. “I suppose, yes.”

“Okay, Rarity. I’ll help. But first,” Twilight said, poking Rarity’s chest with the tip of her hoof. “You’re going to tell me exactly what this challenge is all about. What do you get if you win?”

Thoughts of Spitfire in her boutique, teasing her with smoldering, hooded eyes, spread wings, and a stretched leg showing off all of the taut, corded muscle underneath her velvety golden coat floated before Rarity. New images joined them, a promise of what may come should she win. Pegasus wings wrapped around her, trembling as they held her close while she took great care and great time in undressing her soon-to-be Wonderbolt bit by bit among them.

Rarity’s tail swished and she bit down on the corner of her lips. “Um. Well.”

“Season tickets to the Wonderbolt shows?” Twilight asked, the innocence in her voice a contrast to the thoughts running through Rarity’s mind so stark that she couldn’t help but flush. “Rainbow Dash can get you those anytime you’d like.”

Another bead of sweat joined the first. Panicked, Rarity fell back on an old, automatic response typically saved for Sweetie Belle. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“What?” Tilting her head to the side, Twilight furrowed her brow deep. It may have taken a second or two, but the realization Rarity dreaded dawned behind her eyes and she gasped. “Wait! No! You and Spitfire?”

Rarity shuffled her hooves. Hearing it said out loud brought a mixture of feelings that swirled in her chest. Embarrassment was chiefly among them, but even moreso was a giddiness that made her want to giggle out loud. Yes! that part of her cheered. Me and my Wonderbolt!

“Are you blushing?” Twilight squinted. “Oh my goodness, you are! I’m right! You and Spitfire are—”

“Darling, please!” Silencing Twilight with a pearly white hoof, Rarity looked over her shoulder. Spitfire was there, wandering among the ponies, but had yet to see them. Breathing a sigh of relief, she lowered her hoof and tried to ignore the satisfied smile on the alicorn’s muzzle. “It’s nothing like that, at least nothing official. Yet.”

“It’s not?” Twilight paused, scrunching her muzzle up. One ear folded down while the other perked up, as if she were weighing the possibilities. “Then what is it? A trial date?”

Rarity’s tail twitched and she glanced to the side. “Of sorts, I suppose. I wouldn’t necessarily call it a date, per se.”

“Then what would you call it?”

By now, Rarity was certain her blush had spread to the tips of her ears. A whine built up in the back of her throat as twiddled with her hooves. “Don’t make me say it.”

Again, Twilight’s brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed. She prodded an accusing hoof at Rarity’s chest, making the unicorn want to shrink back. “You owe me for the last hour of standing around and shaking everypony’s hooves! You’re going to tell me exactly what’s going on.”

“But Twilight—”

“Or,” Twilight said, cutting Rarity off with a rather wicked grin, “I can send up a magic flare. There’s no way Spitfire wouldn’t see it.”

A good and proper whine pealed forth from Rarity’s throat and she covered her face with her hooves. “Fiiiiiiiiine! It’s ...” She licked her lips, her face feeling like it was on fire as she tried to find the right word. “I suppose you could call it ... foreplay.”

A beat of silence passed, and when Rarity peeked out from behind her hooves she found Twilight staring at her, her brow knit and her expression puzzled. “Foreplay?”

“Yes, darling.” Finding the strength of character to sit up, Rarity cleared her throat and ignored the blush no doubt spreading down her neck. “Foreplay.”

“As in—oh.” Twilight squeaked, forcing it into a small cough partway through. From under her mask, Rarity could see the faintest bit of pink bloom out over her muzzle, staining it a deep shade of mulberry red. “Well. Huh. So, you and Spitfire are going to, um.” She waved her hoof, an innocent gesture in almost any other circumstance. “After the ball?”

“Well, erm, yes. Yes, that is the case.” The thought sent an odd but appreciated thrill racing through Rarity’s chest that made the tips of her hooves tingle. Her laugh was something soft that eased the smile over her face. “I did ask you not to make me say it.”

An awkward chuckle came in way of Twilight’s reply. Her feathers ruffled and twitched as she rubbed the back of her neck. “I think this is the part where I’m supposed to say that I’m happy for you?”

“The thought is appreciated, but I don’t think this situation usually warrants that kind of sentiment. It’s a bit of fun between fully-grown and consenting adults. Spitfire happened to catch my eye, and I caught hers. Well,” Rarity said, tittering behind her hoof as her eyes wandered over the ballroom. When they found Spitfire, her smile only grew. “At least for now.”

“How did this—nevermind.” With a shake of her head, Twilight massaged a spot at the base of her horn. “I’ll ask later when this is all over.”

Just as Rarity opened her mouth, she cut herself off with a sudden gasp. A flicker of wildfire caught her eye, and when she lifted head she found her gaze locked with Spitfire’s. Even from this distance, she could see the glow from her beautiful amber eyes, warm and alluring and drawing her in. A smirk flickered over her face and, with a little extra sway to her hips, she started to stride across the ballroom.

“Twilight, she’s seen me! She’s headed this way!” Rarity’s tail flicked and swished in time’s with Spitfire’s unfurling wings that spread and fluffed. Swallowing, the unicorn grabbed her friend by the shoulders and fixed her with the most pitiful, pleading pout she could conjure. “Please, darling? Just stall her for a few minutes so I can slip away.”

Twilight breathed another, longer sigh. “Yes, yes, okay. But you owe me one for this!”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” The pout vanished from Rarity’s face in an instant, replaced by a dazzling smile as she turned Twilight around. “Now, go get her!” Lighting her horn, she nudged her friend forward while turning tail to disappear into the crowd.

Just under an hour to go, but Spitfire was now hot on her trail. With any luck, there would be a few more ponies Rarity could plead favours from. Otherwise, she might just be caught.

As she slipped past a server and trailed behind a group of ponies wandering towards the dance floor, Rarity did her best not to giggle at the little thrill that thought gave her.

No matter the case, would she really lose?

4. Smoldering Coals

The night and the party had worn on. Soon, very soon, the clock would chime. For much of the last hour, Rarity danced and pranced her way around the ballroom feeling as though fire was licking at her heels.

And, in a sense, it was.

All too often she felt Spitfire’s eyes on her, never too close but close enough to look over her shoulder and see a flash of gold or the flicker of her windswept and fiery mane weaving through the crowd. A smile, wink, and swish of her tail were what Rarity gave before she lost herself in a throng of ponies or slipped behind a column. What better way to coax a flame to its biggest and brightest than by teasing it until it blazed?

But now, with Spitfire nowhere in sight, Rarity allowed herself a glance at the grandfather clock and an all-too-satisfied smile. The ponies around her continued to talk, dance, and immerse themselves in the atmosphere of mystery and romance that pervaded the ball. Ten minutes to midnight, and already mares and stallions alike nestled close together, feeding the sparks they felt as they waited for the moment to reveal themselves at the first ring of the bell.

Not all would last, but for at least one night their masks could fall. Nobles, commoners, businessponies, guards—until dawn, none of titles mattered. A young mare, just beginning her tenure in the castle staff, could allow herself to be swept away by a wealthy aristocrat’s son. Or, Rarity thought with a swish of her tail, a seamstress could be carried off into the night by a Wonderbolt.

Standing on the tips of her hooves, Rarity squinted, peering over the crowd. She had lost sight of Twilight long ago, and there had been no sign of Spitfire since she ducked into the kitchens and crept back across the ballroom.

Ten minutes, and victory was hers.

Rarity giggled, a low, purring sound to her own ears, and wandered over to one of the open balcony doors. Cool night air slithered under her dress, bringing with it a shudder and the bristling of fur as she stepped out of the ballroom, away from the warmth, the music, and the prize she so dearly wished to claim.

Up above, Princess Luna’s stars twinkled and shone, bringing the night to wondrous life as the moon bathed the estate gardens in its pale light. Above the clamour of the string quartet and chatter of ponies inside, Rarity heard the trickling of water from the marble fountain in the middle of the garden. The water sprayed up from the spout in the centre of the fountain in a small arc in every direction before it coursed down the backs of a dozen marble swans. Each swan faced another, their necks slender and curved as they bent their heads down gently touch one another.

Rarity smiled at the sight. Walking further out onto the balcony, the din of the ball quieted to a lower, rumbling murmur as she rested her forelegs on the balcony railing and felt a cool breeze run over her face and into her mane. She cast her gaze over the gardens and allowed herself a sigh, one that escaped her mouth in a wispy billow of white fog.

There was no doubt in her mind that Spitfire was somewhere in the ballroom behind her, searching high and low for that which eluded her. A, dare Rarity say, wicked smile played over her lips. With less than ten minutes remaining, how panicked must her Wonderbolt be?

Lifting her hooves off of the cold, stone railing, Rarity turned around and stared back inside. The golden light of the chandeliers poured out, casting long shadows against a glowing white stone floor. Ponies of all shapes and sizes, wearing all manner of dress and design danced and talked and crooned within, but none that sought her.

With another giggle, she started a slow walk back to the warmth and comfort of the ballroom. The challenge was all but won. Surely she could give Spitfire a last, fleeting chance with the few minutes that remained.

She only froze when she heard the soft beating of wings and the clacking of hooves behind her.

Before she had a chance to react, she felt another’s presence beside her, trailing feathers down the small of her back. “There you are, you cheeky little mare,” a voice growled in her ear, every bit as rasping and smoky as she dared to imagine. A nip at the base of her ear followed, hitching her breath in her throat and sending her heart into a staccato rhythm. “You’re going to pay for playing cat-and-mouse with me like that all night.”

Rarity’s breath unhitched in a shrill, decidedly unladylike squeak. Her legs went into motion, working to spring her away from the wing that teased down her side. As she made to jump, however, a pair of hooves stronger than her own gripped her by the shoulders and spun her around.

In the blink of an eye, she found herself reeled in by a set of even stronger wings that wrapped around her back, blanketing her in their warm, feathery embrace. Though she squirmed, she only managed to press her hooves up against a fluffy, golden-furred chest belying the toned and firm muscle beneath.

Her captor’s hooves ran down her shoulders, drawing a shuddering breath from her throat. Licking her lips, she looked up and felt her mouth go wonderfully dry at the pair of beautiful amber eyes that dominated her vision. Her tail swished over the stone balcony and her hooves twisted the red fabric of the dress she gripped as she drowned in the burning desire and want the other’s gaze held.

The grin Spitfire wore was near-predatory. Her wings tightened, drawing the unicorn even deeper into her embrace. When she spoke again, her voice came out in a purr that sent tingles down Rarity’s spine. “Looks like I win.”

“Spitfire!” Rarity gasped, swallowing as she felt hooves massage their way down her barrel. Their grip was firm as they kneaded the fur and skin underneath her dress, making her knees quiver and quake as she leaned into Spitfire’s sturdy frame. “So good to finally see you tonight. Have you been looking for me long?”

The question made Spitfire’s eyes flash and drew a heated chuckle from her lips. “It’s good to see you, too, hon. You know as well as I do that you’ve had a real gas giving me the runaround all night.” Another growl, again in Rarity’s ear, made her want to swoon. “And it looks like I found you before midnight after all.”

The faint scent of smoke clung to Spitfire’s mane and Rarity breathed it in. The hooves roaming down her sides stopped, circled, and squeezed over her cutie mark. Biting her tongue, she leaned into the pegasus’ neck, allowing herself to sink into the sweet feelings of surrender. “Yes,” she murmured, “it appears you have.”

Another squeeze over her cutie mark and Spitfire pulled back enough to let Rarity drown in her gaze again. “Which means I think I’ve won my prize.”

A small smile flickered over Rarity’s face as she fluttered her eyelashes. “I believe you have.”

“I’m glad we agree.” A hot, delectable chuckle rumbled from Spitfire’s chest. Her smirk turned coy, though her eyes lost none of their glow. “Now, where’ve you put it, I wonder.”

Taking a breath to still her beating heart, Rarity closed her eyes and lost herself to the sensation of nuzzling into the tuft of fur poking out from the pegasus’ chest. An even fainter aroma of cinnamon greeted her and drew her in deeper. She felt more than heard an appreciative hum from Spitfire, prompting a smile as feathers tickled along her back. “Well, I did say that it would be ready for unwrapping should you find me, and I can guarantee that it is.”

Spitfire’s wings tensed and Rarity’s grin sharpened at the quickening of the beating of her heart. “I remember you saying something like that, yeah.”

“The only question,” Rarity said, leaning up to lick and nuzzle into the crook of Spitfire’s jaw, “is whether you’d like to unwrap your prize, or if you’d rather watch your prize unwrap itself.”

“Oh, so it’s an interactive prize, then?” Hot puffs of breath warmed Rarity’s ear. At the same time, she looked down to see Spitfire’s tail flick over, brushing loose strands of hair over her hindquarters. “Interesting.”

Rarity laughed and purred, a sound she ensured was every bit as enticing as it could be. “I promise it would be quite the show.”

“Tempting, but I think I’ve got something else in mind.” The feathers wrapped around her back fluffed and flexed and Spitfire raised her hooves, looping them under Rarity’s shoulders. Arching her brow, she looked up at her Wonderbolt and found a disturbingly familiar twinkle of mischief glimmer in her eye. “After everything you put me through tonight, I think I’ll be unwrapping my prize and savouring every second it’s squirming and mewling for more.”

Though Rarity believed every word, the accusation bloomed fresh heat under her fur. Outside, in the night, and under her mask, only Spitfire would see her blush, something she knew the pegasus would delight in. “A lady doesn’t mewl.”

“Maybe not, but a mare does. I’ve heard pretty little unicorns who bite off more than they can chew make the best mewlers. And,” Spitfire said, tightening her grip around Rarity’s back as her wings unfurled and pulled away, “I think I deserve a little peek before I take my prize back to my hotel.”

Rarity’s breath halted in her throat and her eyes widened. The heat from Spitfire’s gaze poured over her as it roamed freely over her body, drinking everything in from the curve of her hips to the slender arc of her neck. Her voice may have come out in a squeak, but she still managed, “Don’t you dare!”

Just then, almost as if perfectly timed, the grandfather clock inside the ballroom started to chime. Its bells rolled in a deep, basso gong that drowned out the sound of music and ponies in mid-conversation. At the same time, Spitfire flared her wings and lifted them off of the balcony with a few powerful pumps that took them over the gardens and in full view of the pale moon above.

A shriek may have pealed from Rarity’s lips, one that fell on deafened ears as the clock gonged within the estate. The shriek, however shrill, died off into a long, low, quaking gasp as a pair of lips left a trail of feathering kisses down her neck.

“Oh, I dare alright,” Spitfire said, her voice husky as she left another, longer kiss halfway down Rarity’s neck. “I’ve been daring all night to get you alone.”

“S-Spitfire—” The kisses continued down her neck and Rarity’s voice was stolen away. Instead, she wrapped her hooves around Spitfire’s neck and bit her tongue to stifle a whimper.

“For the last two hours, I’ve been daring, and I’ve been daring ever since you teased my wings with your magic in your shop a whole week ago.” One last kiss at the crook of her neck freed Rarity’s voice in a small moan. She felt Spitfire’s teeth tug at the shoulder strap of her dress, gently lifting it away to leave her coat bare to the night air. “This, you cheeky, naughty, dainty little unicorn, is comeuppance.”

Before Rarity had a chance to reply, Spitfire darted back up, silencing her gasps and stuttered replies with a kiss.

This, their first proper kiss, whisked Rarity’s breath away. Warmth flowed through her veins as she relished in the contact, tilting her head to the side as her hooves slowly crept up the back of Spitfire’s neck, pulling her in closer as she felt the other mare’s hooves twist around her waist.

The last chimes of the grandfather clock faded away as she gave into the kiss. Spitfire’s breath puffed against her cheek as she felt her coat, soft and like velvet, rub against her own. As time seemed to slow, she felt weightless in the firm, unyielding grip of the mare who held her.

One of Rarity’s hooves slipped around the back of Spitfire’s head, cupping her cheek as she opened her mouth and felt her captor’s lips move against hers. Slowly, her eyes fluttered closed as they continued their dance, every bit as flirtatious and teasing as they were.

Rarity only hesitated when she felt something warm and wet running over her upper lip. The second was all Spitfire needed to coax them open, sliding her tongue into her mouth to slowly and gently massage her own.

The moan came freely from her throat as she opened her mouth wide, teasing and poking along the side of Spitfire’s tongue before slipping beneath. The wings that held them aloft trembled and wavered, but that didn’t stop them from pulling each other in tighter until Rarity felt another’s heart beating against her chest.

When at last it ended, Spitfire licked her lips to clean off a tiny strand of drool that connected them. At the same time, Rarity nosed into her neck, leaving her own trail of fluffy kisses along her jaw as she neared her ear to whisper, “How fast can you get us to your hotel room?” A soft nibble drew a hissed breath. “I’ve been waiting for this for hours, too.”

Without another word, Spitfire’s wings flapped, carrying them beyond the gardens, leaving the estate and the last of the ball behind. Rarity kept her cheek pressed to the pegasus’ neck as they flew, whispering sweet nothings and little encouragements that should have been lost on the wind.

Yet, despite that, she felt Spitfire flap a little faster, pump her wings a little harder. Though, that may have been because of the single trail of magic Rarity sent running down her back, coaxing her in ways that words, for once, could not.

The flight to the hotel had been one of the quickest Rarity ever had. Up above, the night sky swept by in a blur of stars and constellations. She was certain that, in any other circumstance, she would linger with her soon-to-be lover’s wings wrapped around her so that they might gaze at the tapestry weaved by Princess Luna. Such an air of romance, sequestered by the veil of night and backlit by the soft lights of Canterlot below, was a fillyhood dream Rarity was not ashamed to carry with her to this day.

For the time being, though, she was quite content to be held aloft in Spitfire’s hooves. Warmth bloomed in her chest, making her feel a delightful combination of lightheaded and giddy as she pressed her muzzle into the pegasus’ neck, drowning in the scents of smoke, cinnamon, and the beginnings of sweat that clung to her fur.

Knowledge of what was to come yet still, of where they would soon be, fed that warmth. Just as it made her want to swoon and melt into Spitfire’s grasp, it rose into a heat that kept her hooves massaging along the shoulders that held her and fueled her magic tracing along the wings that kept them aloft. Anticipation bubbled in her core, more important than that starlit night above or any ponies that might have spotted them from below.

For now, at least, all that mattered was the mare that held her and the fire roaring between them. Everything else could wait for daybreak, when their fire would have cooled to a few lingering, smoldering embers.

“Hon,” Spitfire said, drawing a flick of the ear, “can you get the window? It’s unlocked. Penthouse suite coming up ahead.”

Craning her neck, Rarity indeed saw a hotel tower rising above the rest of Canterlot. Like much of the city, the building was carved of white stone that sparkled in the sunlight and glowed softly as it caught the moonlight from above and streetlights from below. The penthouse, she could see, had its curtains drawn and a light flickering within.

With a grin that was much too coy for any other situation, she lit her horn as they neared the hotel. “Of course. I see somepony was quite confident about how tonight was going to go.” Nosing her way back into Spitfire’s fur, she licked and nuzzled a spot near the crook of her neck. Now that their flight had slowed, the pegasus’ sharp intake of breath was not lost on the wind. At the sound, Rarity purred and repeated the movement, drawing a gasp and shiver that made both of their tails swish from side to side.

Something between a growl and a purr rumbled deep in Spitfire’s chest. “A Wonderbolt never loses.”

Just as Rarity’s magic finished undoing the latch and pushing the window open, the unicorn lost all concentration as a set of blunt teeth found her ear and bit down gently. Her grip tightened around Spitfire’s shoulders as they flew into the penthouse. “That,” she said, licking the spot where she bit, “was for everything you’ve been doing this whole flight.”

Rarity barely paid the penthouse any mind, far too enraptured in the moment to care. A plush couch floated by in the corner of her eye, as did a table and fireplace. Another nip on her other ear scattered any other details from her mind and she deigned to pout up at Spitfire. “And what was that one for?”

Spitfire’s grin was something both sincere and heated, warm and mischievous. “For being beautiful.”

Any other time, Rarity would have found some quip, flirtatious or not, to respond with. Tonight, she allowed herself to bask in the flutter her heart gave at the earnest and heat-filled tone Spitfire’s voice carried. Her tail brushed against the smooth, soft feeling of bed sheets and she kissed the crook of the pegasus’ neck, murmuring her thanks as she pressed her muzzle into the soft, velvety fur.

A moment later, she felt herself lowered down onto the bed. The mattress and comforter were soft, perhaps soft enough to appease even those picky pegasi who slept in the skies. Her head rested on a pillow as comfortable as a cloud for hardly a second before she leaned up, capturing Spitfire’s lips in another kiss.

Tilting her head to the side, Rarity let out a content sigh through her nose and surrendered herself to Spitfire’s advances. Soon, she felt the pegasus’ weight settle over her and a teasing swipe at her lip, goading her to open her mouth and be drawn even deeper into the embrace she so desperately wanted more of.

Through the fabric of her dress, she felt Spitfire’s primaries trail down her sides, prompting her to arch her back and press their bellies together. Chuckling through the kiss, the pegasus flicked her tail, entwining it with Rarity’s as her hooves found and fumbled with the straps of her dress.

It was only with a soft growl that Spitfire ended the kiss, pulling away enough to lick the tip of Rarity’s snout. “Mind helping me with my dress?”

Rarity gazed into the pair of amber eyes staring down at her, drowning in the warmth and the need that burned within and spread a bright blush across her muzzle. She lit her horn and smiled as the bright blue aura of her magic enveloped over the mare above her. “Why, Spitfire,” she said as the fastenings of Spitfire’s dress came undone, “I thought you’d never ask.”

An equally wicked and wanton grin was Spitfire’s reply as her dress loosened around her. She only moved to allow Rarity’s magic to lift the dress over head and set it with care on a chair in the corner of the bedroom. Their masks followed suit, lifting off of their faces in the aura of magic. Passion or no passion, her work would not be sullied, no matter how stunning the pony that captured her was.

And what a sight that pony was. Spitfire shook out her mane as her dress was pulled away. As her coat was freed, Rarity took great liberty in running her hooves up and down the pegasus’ frame. She felt the taut, corded muscle underneath the smooth, soft goldenrod coat and fully let herself tremble as she hovered her grip over flamelicked cutie marks.

“Thanks, Rarity.” Spitfire’s voice was low, heated, and only for her ears. She leaned down, rubbing her coat over Rarity’s dress. The unicorn bit her lip, stifling a whine and wanting nothing more than to remove that last barrier between them, to feel Spitfire’s warmth spilling over onto her. “Now, let me return the favour.”

The words had hardly left Spitfire’s lips before Rarity felt her teeth graze along her shoulder, nearing the strap of her dress while the hooves that caressed her sides wrapped around her barrel. She was all too happy to arch her back, pressing her belly to the mare’s above her and granting easier access to the zipper of her dress.

All the while, she kept her hooves and her magic working, sending little, wordless encouragements as she kneaded the base of Spitfire’s wings, teased along her outstretched feathers, and groped the flank that was at last in her grasp. For the moment, she let the glamour of her lady and socialite she carried with her drop as she panted in her Wonderbolt’s ear. “Please.”

The need in that one word made Spitfire tremble. Her tail swished out to the side before it mingled with strands of royal purple on the bedspread below. Her breath was hot on Rarity’s fur and her growl rumbled deep in her chest. “You know,” she said, trailing her hooves down the unicorn’s back and pulling her dress up to her cutie mark, “I’m tempted to just tear this thing off of you.”

Though Rarity shuddered at the feeling of the cooler open air meeting her bristling hot coat, she managed to glare down at the pegasus kissing along her shoulder and nipping gently around her dress’ shoulder strap. What felt like fire coarsed under her fur, and while she may have wanted nothing more than to free herself of her garment and feel Spitfire on her, she had enough sense say in the most serious, threatening voice she could muster, “Don’t you dare.”

At her tone, Spitfire chuckled. Her amber eyes flicked up to meet hers, glowing and warm and gorgeous. “I thought we’ve been over this, hon. I dare.” She crawled back up Rarity’s prone form, hiking her dress higher up her waist as she went. “And you,” she added with a light, feathery kiss, “are mine. Didn’t you say I get to decide how I unwrap my prize?”

Before Rarity had a chance to retort, she felt the tips of primaries trail down her bare inner thighs, stealing her breath and her threat away and leaving not but a helpless gasp in their place.

The gasp turned to a whimper as she felt Spitfire’s weight settle over her, straddling her waist as her hooves cupped Rarity’s cutie mark. They squeezed and kneaded, groping and massaging in a way that left the unicorn squirming.

“You’ll love it.” Spitfire’s voice was everything hot and delicious that Rarity wanted as it washed over her ear. She could hear the grin in the pegasus’ voice and twisted the comforter in her hooves. Another chuckle made her bite the corner of her lip as amber eyes filled her vision once again. “You’re so hot when you want it.”

Rarity found her voice, the stuttering, heated mess that it was. “I believe the word you’re looking for is aroused.”

“Aroused, huh?” Spitfire smirked, rubbing her hooves farther up Rarity’s flank and pushing her dress up to her belly. “Yeah, I could’ve said that, but my way’s more fun. Speaking of—”

“Spitfire!” Rarity gasped out, lifting her hooves to Spitfire’s shoulders as the mare took her dress’ shoulder strap between her teeth. “Please.”

Spitfire blinked once. Then, with a softer, gentler smile, she released the fabric and found Rarity’s lips in a kiss that, while no less thrilling, brought with it less of the urgent heat that fed the flames between them.

When it ended, Rarity sighed as she felt Spitfire’s hooves push her dress farther and farther up her frame. “Okay, hon,” Spitfire said, nuzzling their noses together. “No dress ripping, but just for you.”

“Thank you.” Tilting her head to the side, Rarity pressed her lips to Spitfire’s again, sending out her tongue to swipe against the pegasus’ lips. The gesture brought a swish of her fiery red tail and a perk in her ears. “I promise I’ll show you my gratitude.”

Arching her back, Rarity lifted herself off of the bed just enough to let Spitfire ease her dress over her shoulders. With a little less care than the unicorn showed, she tossed the garment to the side. Any concern held over the dress’ wellbeing on the floor was short lived as their coats pressed flush together properly.

Now with nothing left between them, Rarity heard herself groan as Spitfire’s hooves took liberty in exploring every facet of her figure, wandering and teasing and groping from the curve of her rump, to the small of her back, and to the breadth of her shoulders. A kiss, renewed with heat and vigor, silenced both ponies as they lost themselves in each other.

They parted, only for Spitfire to trail a series of kisses, nips, and licks up along Rarity’s jaw line. “You are so crazy beautiful,” she said between kisses, nearing her ear with every word.

“And you,” Rarity said into Spitfire’s ear, entwining their tails together, “are gorgeous, Spitfire.”

She felt Spitfire pause just shy of her ear. The hot air that washed over it with every panted breath made it flick, and then Rarity heard her Wonderbolt chuckle once more. “Thanks. I don’t hear that too often.”

Though a fire raged under her fur and stoked her loins, Rarity forced it aside to cup Spitfire’s cheek with her hoof. Slowly, she drew the pegasus’ gaze to hers, and smiled a gentle, genuine smile. “And that, my darling, is a crime. You are beautiful, Spitfire. It’s something you deserve to hear, and something I am happy to tell you.”

Spitfire’s muzzle, already flushed with desire, seemed to turn the slightest bit redder. Her eyes, fogged over yet burning bright, glanced to the side. “Now you’re going to make me blush? Really?”

A tittering if heated laugh bubbled from Rarity’s lips as she nosed into Spitfire’s cheek. “A lady always knows the opportune moment to compliment.”

“Yeah, and a pegasus always returns the favour.” Spitfire tilted her head to the side, pressing their cheeks together. The mixed scents of smoke, cinnamon, sweat, and something decidedly mare and decidedly Spitfire filled Rarity’s senses, drawing a purr from her throat and a twitch from her tail. “And I plan on returning the favour, hon. I can’t wait to see you blush when you’re not just turned on.”

Another laugh, this one quieter, sounded from Rarity’s throat. She traced small circles on Spitfire’s chest, slowly stoking the fire between them as they rubbed their bellies together. “Is that so?”

“Oh yeah.” Spitfire’s teeth grazed over the base of her ear, making Rarity’s breath catch. “Watching you blush while we’re out to dinner tomorrow is going to be the highlight of my day. Well,” she added, nipping a little bit harder and drawing the slightest of squeaks, “depending on what our morning’s like.”

Rarity blinked, sorting through the sensations Spitfire poured over her body. “Dinner?”

“Yes,” Spitfire said, licking the spot she nipped. “Dinner. And then another one after that.” She punctuated the statement with a roll of her hips, prompting Rarity to moan as she felt a spot of heat nearing her own. “And, say, what are you doing next weekend?”

“Wh-what are you proposing?”

More kisses and nips followed as Spitfire worked her way back down to Rarity’s lips, capturing them in another kiss that left the unicorn helpless. She opened her mouth, granting the pegasus above her free access, something she was delighted to have taken advantage of.

“What does it sound like, Rarity?” Spitfire asked, tracing her tongue over Rarity’s lip, hardly a hair’s breadth away. “Trust me, I’ve been thinking about this long and hard all week. You’re all mine, and I think I’d like to keep it that way.”

Through the fire and want, Rarity found the will to press her hoof to Spitfire’s chest, stilling the rocking of her hips. Slowly, she pushed the pegasus up enough to meet her gaze, fully aware of the flushed, wanton, and panting mess she gleefully let herself become.

Rarity took a deep breath, bringing some semblance of order to her thoughts as she pushed herself up. “Do you mean that?” she asked, searching Spitfire’s frowning face. “Do you seriously intend to court me, Spitfire?”

Again, Spitfire blinked, and again, she smiled. Leaning in, she pressed her lips to Rarity’s. The kiss was chaste, but still the unicorn couldn’t help but flutter her eyes shut and lean into it.

“Yes,” Spitfire whispered. There was something open and exposed about her smile when they broke apart, bringing her eyes to life in a way that Rarity had yet to see. “I’d have to be some special kind of crazy to risk letting somepony else come in and sweep you off your hooves after tonight.”

A new, blooming warmth spread from Rarity’s chest, one that spread to the tips of her hooves. If she were anypony else, she may have allowed a goofy, smitten smile to wobble over her lips. Instead, she permitted a smaller, affectionate smile. “Come now, flattery?”

“It’s not flattery.” Another kiss, this one deeper and longer, and Rarity felt her forelegs shake as they struggled to hold her upright. Spitfire’s hoof wound down her leg, finding and wrapping around a trembling, snowy white hoof. They eased back down to the bed, hooves and tails entwined.

Rarity felt a pair of downy wings poke under her back, pulling her flush against Spitfire’s chest. “If you’re all mine, then I’m all yours, too. If you’ll have me, I mean.”

This particular smile Rarity felt tugging on her lips may have been goofy, but she hid it by leaning up to lick the tip of Spitfire’s snout. “I think you know what my answer is.”

“Maybe.” Spitfire’s grin was a damnable thing, but the hooves that went back to massaging Rarity’s haunches and hovering over her dock were magical. “But I want to hear you say it, hon. Will you go out with me?”

“Yes,” Rarity gasped, shaking as the heat coursing through her returned, stoked to new heights. Through it all, she held Spitfire’s gaze, hers a bright, sapphire blue that surrendered to the burning amber holding them captive. “And maybe you will be all mine another night,” she said, pecking Spitfire’s lips, “but tonight I’m all yours.”

Spitfire purred, shifting her weight so that their hips met. “Yes, yes you are.”

With one last wicked grin, Rarity lit her horn. Her magic ran down the lengths of Spitfire’s wings, drawing an audible gasp and visible tremor from her Wonderbolt. “Good. Now, do you plan on making good on that?”

No more words were spoken. With a hungry, needing growl, Spitfire caught Rarity’s lips in a kiss that had the unicorn at her mercy. Hooves and wings reached seemingly everywhere, feeding a fire that centered between her legs.

The soft, velvety fur of Spitfire’s stomach and hips meshed with her own, and Rarity moaned into the pegasus’ mouth. Her eyes soon slid shut, content to savour each and every sensation as it coursed through her body and content to surrender herself entirely.

After all, every mare deserved a little relaxation every now and then, didn’t they?

Author's Note

In case any of you were wondering where the sex tag came into play ... there you go.

That’s a wrap on this one, folks! Thank you all for joining me on this little pleasure cruise of a foray into the small ship that is RariFire. Will I come back to do more with these two? Who knows! They’re an absolute delight to write, so the odds are probably maybe.

Thank you so much to Rossby Waves for doing all of the illustrations for each chapter.

And, most importantly, birthday boops for Carapace!

1. Sparking Embers

Every mare deserved a little luxury every now and then.

Scented candles, the product of a darling little crafts boutique in Manehattan, floated into place around the bathtub. A minor force of will and a small series of light, cornflower blue flashes later they all lit, filling the bathroom with their soft, delicate glow. Soon, the soothing scent of lavender spread across the room.

Rarity breathed in deep, savouring the smell. As she did, she felt some of the stress and tension in her shoulders bleed away, drawing a content sigh. Wrapped in her fuzziest and most exquisite robe, she let her hooves carry her across the floor to the tub and, wreathing the faucet in her magic, turned on the water.

Lowering the latest of the Prima Donna series to the counter, she looked over her collection of bath oils, bath soaks, and bubble baths. With a thoughtful hum, she lifted two bottles off of the shelf, bringing them to hover by her muzzle as steam started to rise from the tub and fog the mirror.

“Luxurious, no doubt,” she said to herself, eyeing the rose petal scented bubble bath. “And I have been meaning to try it, but perhaps tonight is a night for comfort and relaxation?”

She popped the cap of the second bottle and held it before her nose. The gentle fragrances of lilac and vanilla graced her nostrils, quieting her musings. The unopened bottle floated back to the shelf while she poured a healthy amount of the second into her filling bath.

Yes, she decided. Tonight is a night for comfort.

Her favourite candles, the newest book in a series quickly becoming a personal, if guilty, favourite, a lovely bubble bath in the works, and her most comfortable robe to keep her warm while she waited—the beginnings of a perfect evening to herself. Though she loved Sweetie Belle with all of her heart, rarely was she so glad to send her on her way to a sleepover at Sweet Apple Acres as she was tonight.

A scant hour had passed since she finished the last in a long line of orders and closed up. How ponies like Applejack and Rainbow Dash stood to be on their hooves all day long baffled her as her own yearned to sink deep into the hot bath and lose herself to the whimsical, simple, but charming words of Rose Quartz.

The only thing missing, in fact, was a window grand enough to let the golden light of the sunset pour into the bathroom.

With a yearning sigh, she shook her head and shut off the water. Steam slowly rose from the water’s surface, bringing with it the combined scents of lilac and vanilla that mingled and danced with the lighter lavender that floated above them.

Rolling up her robe, she dipped the tip of her hoof in the bath.

Oh, yes. It was ready and so was she.

Just as she undid the sash around her robe, the jingle of a bell caught her ear. Right after, the bell jingled again and she heard her front door close.

Blinking, with one hoof outstretched to her bath, she strained her ears, listening for the rapid clickety-clackety of a foal’s hooves running up the stairs. When it didn’t come, she allowed herself a slight frown and turned to the door.

“Sweetie Belle, is that you?” she called, cocking her head to the side. “Did you forget something?”

Second after second ticked away. Her candles burned, her bath bubbled, but nopony answered. She wrinkled her brow, mouth twitching as her frown threatened to sour into a scowl. Sweetie and her friends knew better than to disturb her during her baths. Just as they needed their ‘Crusading Time,’ she needed her ‘Rarity Time.’

“Sweetie Belle?”

Again, no answer. Her brows knit. If not Sweetie, then who? Business hours were over, the market had closed, and she locked the door before retiring to her robe—didn’t she?

For that matter, she did remember to turn the sign to ‘CLOSED.’ That much she was certain of. Unless, of course, in her haste to send Sweetie on her way and retreat to the sanctity of her bubble bath, she forgot to do that, too.

She heard the muffled sound of hooves downstairs. An equally muffled but somewhat familiar voice called, “Anypony home?”

Somepony was in her home. Most likely a customer at that.

Rarity’s ears swiveled forward as she bit her lip. She could almost hear Prima Donna calling to her from the pages, lulling her to her bath in her entrancing, Prench-accented voice. The candles burning whispered to her, pleading with her to turn away. Surely, the customer would come back another day. Any sane pony would know it was well after usual business hours.

Lilac and vanilla tickled her nose, leading her back around. The bathwater bubbled, inviting her like no lover ever had.

One hoof made it to the lip of the tub before the voice called out again from downstairs, “Hello?”

Rarity sighed.

She lowered her hoof and, though it pained her to do so, turned away from her bathtub and started for the bathroom door. “It will only take a minute, Rarity,” she told herself as her horn glowed a bright blue, snuffing out her candles. A little more hot water would remedy a lukewarm bath, and if Prima Donna could wait for Fencer to sweep her off of her hooves, then she could most certainly wait a scant few minutes.

Dragging her hooves across the floor, she slipped out of her bathroom and shuffled to the stairs. She paused only long enough to compose herself and tighten her bathrobe. Not the most appropriate attire for servicing customers, but that wasn’t the idea now, was it? If the sun nearing the horizon and the lack of other ponies weren’t clues enough, then the robe would do the trick.

Head held high, tail perked, and her regular dazzling smile in place, Rarity cantered down the stairs.

“Welcome to Carousel Boutique,” she sing-songed, “where everything is chique, unique, and magnifique! Your business is valued, but I’m afraid that we are—Spitfire?”

Standing there, bathed in the glow of the setting sun, was the Captain of the Wonderbolts. She stood in front of a mannequin, about to poke it with her hoof, when her ear flicked at Rarity’s voice. Spitfire’s eyes, a molten amber, found her halfway down the stairs. Feathers as golden as the sun’s waning light ruffled against the brown flight jacket she wore and the corner of her mouth quirked upwards. “Hey,” she said, running her hoof through her mane of wildfire. “It’s Rarity, right?”

Only stunned for a second, Rarity blinked and closed her mouth. “Indeed.” Her grace and poise intact, she pranced the rest of the way down the stairs and offered Spitfire a polite smile from the newel post. “Not that it isn’t a pleasure to see you again, Captain Spitfire, but I do hope there isn’t an emergency?”

The flight goggles around Spitfire’s neck bounced against her chest as she chuckled. “Nah, nothing like that. Sorry for dropping by so late. Flight practice ran a little longer than usual today and I couldn’t make it to Ponyville until just now.” Her eyes wandered over Rarity’s form, concealed and padded by the bathrobe wrapped around her. For a second, they seemed to light up, sending the tiniest of tingles down the unicorn’s back. A note of amusement crept into her voice as she said, “I hope I’m not disturbing you. That’s a cute robe, though.”

Rarity’s ears perked up, though she kept her smile controlled and smooth. It may have been her imagination, but there was a certain underlying tone to the Wonderbolt’s words, a tone she imagined when Fencer was alone with Prima Donna. “A lady is always poised and never disturbed, darling.” Curious, she fluttered her eyes and brought the muff of her robe to her cheek. “And thank you. It is my favourite robe. I’m glad you like it.”

A little grin and wiggle of ears was Spitfire’s reply. “It looks good on you.” Tilting her head to the side, she started to turn to the door. “If it’s a bad time now, I can always come back tomorrow. You’re closed, aren’t you?”

“Technically, yes.” Wreathing her horn in her magic, Rarity turned the sign in her window to ‘CLOSED’ and flicked the latch. “I am indeed closed for regular business.”

Mischief and amusement, a familiar combination seen many a time in Rainbow Dash, danced bare behind Spitfire’s eyes. “Technically?”

“Yes, technically. I would normally apologize and explain how I forgot to turn the sign and lock the door before retiring upstairs.” Each step was measured and precise as she walked around the room. “But I’d be happy to make an exception in your case.”

“That’s awfully nice of you, but I really don’t mind.” With a flutter of her wings, Spitfire was in the air. A few back-flaps later, she was hovering near the door. “I can come back tomorrow.”

“Nonsense, Captain!” Rarity cantered ahead, coming between Spitfire and the door. Another bath could be drawn and more candles could be lit, but it was hardly every day that a Wonderbolt flew in through one’s door. Well, one that wasn't Rainbow Dash. Business was business, after all, and good rapport with such a high-profile client sadly outweighed her own relaxation. “I’d consider it a favour for all of the guidance you’ve given Rainbow Dash. A friend of a friend is my friend, after all!”

“Well ...” Though she made a show of drifting in lazy circles around her, Spitfire landed, flourishing her feathers as she drew her wings back to her sides. “If you insist, then who am I to say no? I have to ask, though,” again, her eyes flashed, something Rarity imagined would leave poor, delighted fan-fillies giggly and flustered, “do you tend to all of your clients in a bathrobe? Not that I’m complaining.”

The tip of Rarity’s ear twitched, her smile otherwise intact. From experience and many afternoon teas with Fluttershy, she knew wings played a rather large role in pegasus courtship. “A one-time occurrence, I guarantee you,” she said, her voice calm and level as she cantered towards the stairs. A glance over her shoulder showed the Wonderbolt watching her, one eyebrow raised. “You simply caught me as I was turning in for the night.”

“A mare like you with no night plans? That’s almost criminal.”

Aha.

Rarity knew Spitfire’s type well. Fire underlay everything they did, seeking to draw those around them closer like a moth to the flame. The hint of a challenge and an unruffled visage catered well to her sort—a challenge to draw them out, meeting fire with all of the calm clarity of crystal.

And, should a pony wish to return the favour, all they needed to know was how to direct that fire and fan its flames.

Luckily, Rarity considered herself a self-taught expert in both of those regards.

“Be that as it may, we’re getting ahead of ourselves here.” Without breaking her stride, she untied the sash around her barrel. Her back to Spitfire, she stepped out of her bathrobe. Business and clients first, relaxation and fun later. Though she missed her robe’s warmth as the cooler night air met her fur, she tossed her curled, purple mane over her shoulder and turned back to the pegasus.

The tips of Spitfire’s primaries ruffled, twitching in time with her fiery tail. She caught her gaze travelling down the length of her neck and the soft, supple curves of her snowy white coat. If she intended to hide it, then she did so poorly.

Interesting. At first, Rarity hummed as Spitfire met her gaze, smirking all the while. Whether it was in silent challenge or invitation, though, she could not be sure.

Very interesting. Fixing her smile back in place, Rarity turned her head to the side, looking to the back room. “Now, Captain,” she said, lowering her robe over the newel post while plucking her red-rimmed glasses from her designer’s desk in the back. As they settled on the bridge of her snout, she faced her would-be client. “How can I help you tonight?”

To an inexperienced eye, nothing would be different about Spitfire as she walked across the room. Rarity, however, knew much, much better. From the errant flicker of her feathers, to the lazy smirk on her face, to the low embers lighting her eyes, there was everything different about the Wonderbolt.

“Alright, down to business.” The smirk waned as Spitfire’s eyes slid to the side, looking from one mannequin to the next. “Long story short, I need a dress.”

To that, Rarity arched a brow. “A dress? Whatever for?”

The smirk came back, cracking along Spitfire’s expressing with a keen edge. “To wear. Thought I’d come and get one from the talk of the town in Canterlot.”

“Not that I’m not flattered, Captain—”

“Come on, Rarity,” Spitfire said, cutting her off with a wink and flick of her tail. “Friend of a friend is your friend, right? Call me Spitfire.”

Rarity paused, closing her mouth. Then, easing her smile back into place, she nodded. “Very well, Spitfire. As I was saying, while it is flattering to have somepony such as yourself seek me out, I must ask—” Peering over her glasses, she tilted her head to the side. Any further, and the setting sun would have lit up her eyes. “—why come all the way to Ponyville? I have a boutique in Canterlot. Surely that would have been more convenient?”

Spitfire rolled her shoulders in a shrug, poking at the nearest mannequin with the tip of her wing. A simple, but elegant faded red dress was fitted over it, accented by the bright red sash around the waist and matching ruby-encrusted choker. “It would’ve, but Wonderbolts don’t go for convenience. We go for the best.”

A slender eyebrow rose over Rarity’s forehead. “Meaning what, exactly?”

“Meaning I need a dress, so I’m going to get the best. I could just pick something up off of the rack in Canterlot or Manehattan, but that’s not quite my style.” With a catlike grin, Spitfire ran her feathers down the mannequin’s chest, following the neckline of the dress down. “If I’m getting a dress, I’m getting one from the best designer around and right from the source.”

Rarity let loose a tittering laugh, tilting her head the rest of the way to let the sun illuminate her eyes. Oh, if she had a bit for every time somepony compared them to the loveliest of sapphires on Hearts and Hooves Day, she would have her next outlet in Fillydelphia by now! “Well,” she said, smiling her brightest, “consider me flattered! A dress it is. What’s the occasion?”

“Some shindig coming up.” Again, Spitfire shrugged, her tone inflected with dry, mirthless humour. “Not my favourite thing to do, but the Wonderbolts have to keep up appearances. Since I’m the Captain, that usually means I have to keep up appearances. This time it’s a big ball in Canterlot.”

“A ball?” Rarity’s ear flicked. An invitation, written in the finest calligraphy with golden filigree around the edges, came to mind. The invitation sat upstairs on her vanity, reminding her daily of the ball of balls in Canterlot high life coming up. How she squealed when it was delivered to her hooves was a memory both cherished and hidden away, lest she have to endure the snickering and teasing her friends so loved to subject her to.

Of course, there were many balls, even if it would be only fitting to have the Wonderbolt present at the ball of the year. Curiosity tickled at the back of her mind. What were the odds?

“Forgive my asking, but isn’t it customary for somepony of your station to dress in their officer’s uniform?” Rarity asked, holding her smile as she trotted to Spitfire’s side. She watched the other mare out of the corner of her eye as they stood before the dress and slowly migrated to the next. “I recall you either in that or in your flight uniform at the last few Grand Galloping Galas.”

“Yeah, usually I can get away with one of those.” Spitfire’s brow creased as she lifted the hem of a lacy dress. Sighing, she withdrew her hoof and shook her head. “I’m not really one for this kind of getup, but it can’t be helped.”

“And why is that?”

A flicker of fire blazed behind Spitfire’s eyes as she cocked her head to the side and grinned. “I figured somepony as in the know as you would know.” Her wing wandered, stretching out and poking Rarity in the chest. “Appearing in uniform is all fine and good, unless you’re going to a masquerade ball.”

Despite herself, Rarity gasped. “Upper Crust and Jet Set’s Annual Masquerade Ball?”

“Yup.” Grin turning crooked, Spitfire chuckled. “Fleetfoot and Soarin bailed on me, so I’ll be all on my lonesome. Figured sticking out like a sore hoof wouldn’t do me any favours, so I need a dress.” Fluffing her feathers, she half-unfurled her wings. A swish of her tail caught Rarity’s eye before a ruffle of goldenrod feathers led her gaze back up along her form and figure to her eyes.

Subtle, but smooth.

“Think you can help me out?”

“What kind of designer would I be if I couldn’t make the Captain of the Wonderbolts look stunning in a crowd?” Smiling, Rarity turned and beckoned for Spitfire to follow. “Spitfire, by the time I’m finished, you will be the talk of the ball! A mysterious, gorgeous pegasus mare with a dress that cannot be compared! Now, follow me so I can take your measurements and get to work.”

The clip-clop of hooves behind her sounded before Spitfire’s raspy voice reached her ears. “Now you’re talking.”

As they wandered from the front viewing room to the fitting room in the back, Rarity reached out with her magic. From the cluster of scrap fabrics and utensils on her desk, her measuring tape snaked out towards her, wreathed in a cornflower blue. “If you’ll kindly remove your jacket and stand up on the stage there, we can begin.”

Many minutes and measurements later, Rarity walked in a slow circle around the little stage in the back room of Carousel Boutique. Her clipboard floated by her side, suspended in the light blue of her magic, and her measuring tape stretched from Spitfire’s hind hoof to her hindquarters. Lingering behind the pegasus’ tail, she hummed to herself in thought.

Spitfire had been a model client so far. Without hesitation, she slipped her jacket and goggles off—now hanging on a coat rack in the corner of the room—and hopped up on the stage. She stood still, moving not save for the gentle rise and fall of her chest and occasional fluff of her feathers as the measuring tape neared her coat. Though she never said anything, the times their gazes met spoke volumes.

A low, simmering heat warmed Spitfire’s eyes. Intrigue and, if she was not mistaken, want shone there, but Rarity trotted by all the same, jotting down measurements as she took them.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Tabloids loved to paint graphic and scandalous pictures of Equestria’s biggest celebrities, the Wonderbolts included. Many called it frivolous gossip, despite it being one of Rarity’s guiltiest and most delighted pleasures, but the pictures that made their headlines stood out on newspaper racks all the same. Spitfire herself appeared in many of them, but at Rainbow Dash’s assurances she dismissed them as the factless attempts at scandals that they were.

Now though, finding herself under Spitfire’s warm, inviting gaze, part of Rarity wondered how many of those ‘scandals’ held a facet of truth. Another part of her preened. What kind of pony wouldn’t be flattered at catching a Wonderbolt’s eye, and the Captain’s eye at that?

Flattering though it may be, there was business to attend to and a new bath to draw after. Prima Donna called to her, and she would not leave her waiting for longer than necessary.

Red-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her snout, she glanced down at Spitfire’s measurements. Very similar to Rainbow Dash’s, but that came as no surprise. From the rigorous training both engaged in in and out of the air, it was only natural that they shared a sleek, toned frame. Muscles, though less bulky than in some earth ponies but no less defined, would ripple under both mares’ coats as they beat their wings and stretched on the ground—Rarity had seen enough flight practices and shows to know that well.

With a slight frown, she looked up from her clipboard. Each custom dress she made was, by necessity, tailored to its commissioner. There was something beautiful about every pony, and her job was to find that something and spotlight it for the world to see. Whether it was how stars seemed to shine in Twilight Sparkle’s eyes and mane, the down-to-earth, country-esque allure in Applejack, or the effortless grace and elegance Fluttershy carried herself with, there was something meant to shine.

Spitfire, however, presented a new challenge. The fact that she cared a significant deal about her appearance showed in how she held herself atop the designer’s stage. Even when simply breathing, muscles shifted and flexed beneath her coat, from the base of her powerful wings to her flame-adorned flanks. Her coat shone with youth and energy, a glowing gold only matched by the light of the setting sun outside.

Then, of course, were her mane and tail. Spitfire indeed, Rarity thought, tapping her pencil to her chin as she looked over the pegasus’ body with a detailed eye. A tail of wildfire drew the passerby’s wandering gaze to her rump, while a matching mane led to her eyes. Either way, jaws would drop.

But then, knowing pegasi, mane, tail, eyes, and flanks were only part of the equation. The rest, she knew, lay in the wings. A pegasus’ wings were their pride and joy, from the shiest of fliers like Fluttershy to the bravest and boldest like Rainbow Dash.

And, even among pegasi, Spitfire had quite the set of wings. Strong and powerful, as a Wonderbolt’s should be, yet they looked soft to the touch. Somepony obviously put a good deal of time and care into their preening. Feathers moved and rustled ever-so-slightly with every breath, every bit as golden and glowing as her fur. They were the kind of wings a pony in one of Rarity’s many romance novels longed to be held in.

A flick on the tip of her snout drew her out of her musings. Blinking, she looked from the fluffy, fiery tail that swished from side to side to its owner’s smirking muzzle. “Pardon?”

“I asked if you were enjoying the view back there.” With a little shake of her hips, Spitfire wiggled her ears. The smoldering warmth that lit her eyes intensified, fixing Rarity with a stare of fire and heat. So much for subtlety, but there was something to be said for a direct approach. “A lot of ponies would pay a lot of money to get a good, long look like that.”

For a second, Rarity stared. Then, smiling easily, she shook her head and walked around the stage to Spitfire’s side. “Now, Spitfire, please. I am a professional above all else.” Lifting her glasses off of her muzzle, she reached for her magic, simultaneously floating her glasses to rest on her desk while bringing her measuring tape to drape around her neck. “I was simply looking for my muse, you see.”

“Right,” Spitfire said, grinning out of the side of her mouth. “So, professionally, your muse is somewhere between my flank and wings.” Her wings fluttered and unfurled, feathers fluffing as she arched a brow. “Not that I blame you, though. These bad boys have won an admirer or ten.”

Ducking out from under the shadow cast by Spitfire’s wing, Rarity let out a polite, tittering laugh. “My, my, my, how very impressive indeed. I’m sure you must be the envy of pegasi everywhere.” She lit her horn, sliding the tape off of her shoulders and tapping the pencil to her clipboard. “But now that you have them extended, please hold them still. I haven’t taken your wing measurements yet.”

“Convenient, but alright.” Spitfire’s tail flicked and she spread her wings to the fullest. As she did, she winked at Rarity. “Just mind the goods.”

“But of course! I am, as I said, a professional. I will be nothing if not discreet. Now, this won’t take a moment.” The measuring tape slid through the air, back towards Spitfire. “Besides, I’ve been told I have a gentle touch. I’ve worked with enough pegasus wings to know all the little tricks of the trade.”

There was a pause, barely long enough to take in a breath, before Spitfire said, “Sure.”

Ear flicking, Rarity gave pause at Spitfire’s tone. Bold, daring, brash, and forward were all qualities she had come to associate with the mare. Even in the face of a dragon or her own wrongdoings, her voice carried with it the authority and command of a leader.

The name ‘Spitfire’ conjured many things for Rarity, but wavering was not one of them.

Looking up from her clipboard, she watched the pegasus’ face. She remained stoic, expression unmoving as the measuring tape, wreathed in the glow of Rarity’s magic, extended from the base of Spitfire’s wing to the tip of her primaries. It hovered there, bobbing up and down ever-so-slightly in a bright blue aura.

When the edge of Rarity’s magical aura touched Spitfire’s wing, though, she saw it. Her feathers shuddered at the contact, a motion that travelled up the length of the wing. It was a brief, fleeting reaction, but one that caught her eye all the same. At the same time, the corner of her mouth twitched and the slightest wrinkles marred her muzzle.

Holding her clipboard up to her face, Rarity watched out of the corner of her eye as she lowered the measuring tape. Her magic brushed against Spitfire’s wing, gently weaving and flowing between her feathers as she kept the levitation spell powered. Another tremble, this time accompanied by a faint catching of the breath and the—dare she say—anxious twitch of the tail played out before her.

Rarity hid a small, intrigued smile behind her clipboard at the show. How very, very interesting.

“Well then,” Rarity said, whisking her measuring tape away with a small effort of will. She spared a second to jot down the measurement before sending the tape back to her desk. Once finished, she lifted her gaze and smiled. “I’d wager that we are all finished here for the evening.”

Spitfire cleared her throat and hopped off of the stage. “Right. Good.” Goldenrod feathers fluffed and a tail of wildfire swished as she walked over to her jacket and goggles. “Got everything you need?”

Though she raised her clipboard as if to skim its contents, Rarity kept her eyes flickering back up to Spitfire as she said, “I believe I do.” She watched the pegasus pull her jacket over her forelegs and slip her goggles around her neck with nary a glance back. How very ... different. “Is everything alright, Spitfire? I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?”

“No, no, all’s good.” Running a hoof through her mane, Spitfire turned around, a more familiar half-smirk on her face. “Wings are a bit sensitive, that’s all.”

“I understand,” Rarity said, nodding as she led the way back to the front room. “Rainbow Dash is much the same way. You’d be surprised how many pegasi fuss when I have to take their wing measurements.”

“Not sure that I would be. You know, being a pegasus and all.” A warmth, low and meant to entice, crept into Spitfire’s voice. Behind her, Rarity heard feathers ruffle. “Gotta say though, you were right. You do have a gentle touch with that magic of yours. Light and soft.” She didn’t need to look to see the glow of her newest client’s eyes. “Almost like you were caressing them.”

“I make a point to take care of my clients, Spitfire. Like I said, I’m no stranger to pegasi and their care for their wings.” Without so much as looking to meet her gaze, Rarity cantered across the showroom floor to the front door. Her curiosity got the better of her, though, and she gave the slightest swish of her tail.

Spitfire hummed, and a brief glance over her shoulder showed her eyes following the curled, royal purple locks of Rarity’s tail. Just as she thought. “True enough. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“A lady always comes through,” Rarity said, lighting her horn to turn the latch and push the door open. The sun had nearly set outside, leaving Ponyville in the last, fading hours of dusk. The golds and yellows of the sunset darkened to enchanting blues and alluring, soft purples—calming, last vestiges of the day that soothed ponies into the night. “Now, while it has been a pleasure to see you, I must bid you adieu and goodnight.”

“Right, right. Thanks for taking the time to help me out. I know you didn’t have to, and I won’t forget it. But,” Spitfire added, halting beside Rarity in front of the door. The loss of the sunset’s golden light did little to dim the glow of her coat as it shone in the soft light of dusk. “I have to ask. Did you end up finding your ‘muse?’”

As she spoke, she half-unfurled her wings, making no visible effort to hide how she showed off her feathers yet again. To that, Rarity allowed herself a second giggle of the night and a pleasant smile. “I will have to think on it, but I have a few ideas.”

Smirk turning wry, Spitfire stood her tallest, flexing the corded muscles in her chest and shoulders. “Think it’s where you were looking before?”

Rarity did her best not to let her gaze wander, instead looking to the world outside as she bounced her mane on her hoof. “Only time will tell, darling. We shall see where inspiration strikes.”

“That makes sense.” A light, thoughtful frown creased Spitfire’s brow. “So, uh ...”

“Bit for your thoughts?” Rarity turned on her hoof and cantered back towards the staircase and her bathrobe. Each step was again elegant and precise, her tail perked, and her chin held high. “Take your time, darling. I’m in no rush.”

The door didn’t close, but that didn’t surprise her. Sure enough, she felt Spitfire’s eyes on her, following her as she walked around the room.

How very, very curious.

Swallowing a little giggle, she carried on her ‘business,’ content to let the Wonderbolt watch her for a few moments longer. The most important part of any situation, after all, was to savour it. Idly, she plucked a pencil from the cabinet by the stairs and brought her clipboard to hover before her. Still, she felt Spitfire’s eyes roving over her and each little movement she made. From this distance, she almost felt the heat aflame within them, but focused on reviewing her notes and the measurements.

After her third skim down the page, an appropriate enough amount of time had passed. She took care to mask her little grin as she turned around. Placing her pencil behind her ear, she fluttered her eyes. “Was there anything else, Spitfire?”

Slowly, a smirk spread over Spitfire’s muzzle. A gleam entered her eye, equal parts predatory and playful. “Maybe,” she said. “It depends on the dress.”

“Oh.” Waving her hoof, Rarity set her clipboard down on the cabinet and trotted to Spitfire. “You’ll just have to be patient in that case.”

“Wonderbolts aren’t known for their patience, you know.”

“Well, you’ll just have to learn, then!” Rarity shook her head, tut-tutting as she stopped just a hoofstep away. “Good things come to those who wait, and I can all but guarantee satisfaction. Now, shoo!” Smiling, she nudged Spitfire’s shoulder with a push of her magic. “I have relaxation and work to get to, and I’m sure you have to be important somewhere else.”

Spitfire chuckled, brushing her shoulder where Rarity’s magic touched. “Patience, huh?”

“Indeed.” Making no effort to hurry, Rarity trotted around Spitfire to the door. “Come back on Wednesday next week. Your dress will be ready for fitting then.”

The twinkling of magic filled the room as the held the door was held open in a light, cornflower blue aura. With not but a hum to herself, Spitfire turned around, but lingered in the doorway. This time, Rarity watched as her glowing, molten amber eyes looked her up and down, from her slim shoulders down to her svelte, curvy hips.

Then, with a smirk, she walked out the door, flicking Rarity’s snout with the tip of her tail. “See you Wednesday.”

A flicker of feathers and beat of a wing later, she was gone. For a second, Rarity watched her figure disappear into the darkening sky. When she could no longer see the gold of her feathers or the fire of her tail, she stepped back and closed the door. She made for the stairs, closing the latch and lifting her bathrobe in the same force of magic.

With the warm, fuzzy confines of her bathrobe wrapping around her, she climbed the stairs and let out a small sigh. ‘Curious’ was not a strong enough word to describe that after-hours visit. ‘Intriguing’ came to mind, as did ‘unexpected.’ As she reached the second floor, bathroom and relaxation in sight, she traced her hoof around the upper newel post.

Another word came to mind, one that tickled at the back of her thoughts and sent a tingle down to the tips of her hooves.

Exciting.

Brazen, bold, and daring. How often had another pony looked at her quite that way? For a mare who lived in a world of rules and regulations, Spitfire seemed to be quite content with making her intentions clear.

And, if her intentions were Rarity, well ...

Rarity’s slight, catlike grin showed in her reflection as she stepped into her bathroom. Her tail swished behind her as she pulled the stopper from the tub, letting the now tepid water drain away. Humming as she picked up her book, she relit her candles and turned on the hot water, once again filling the room with warmth and the scent of lilac.

“What an interesting bridge that will be to cross,” she said to herself, opening her book to the first page. The memory of Spitfire’s wing trembling as her magic brushed along over it floated to the surface, and she couldn’t help a giggle.

What an interesting bridge, indeed.

Author's Note

Everyone reading this go and flood Carapace's userpage with "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" wishes. I know it was technically weeks ago, but it's the thought that counts, right?

Besides, we all know he'll love it. Go on and flood his wonderful userpage with loving comments! :heart:

This story was written as a gift for him. It was originally mostly finished by the time his birthday came around, and I wanted to give him some time to savour it while I polished it up for posting. You can expect the next chapters to come in the coming weeks on a fairly regular schedule until this shorter story is complete.

Questions, comments, concerns—leave them all below! I'm happy to receive them.