Rarity loved her dolls.
It was habit she had fallen into during her instruction as a dressmaker. Rarity lived in the modern era, when there were more ponies who wished to be famous dressmakers than there were ponies who wished to wear formal dresses. Though Rarity’s taste was exquisite and her work was fine, she often went years or even decades between clients. Her dolls filled the void.
She sewed elaborate dresses for her dolls. She made them hats. She posed them. She doted over them. All the while she lamented; if only, if only she’d been born in an earlier time. She could have been a tailor without compare. She could have made dresses to adorn royalty.
“Oh, your Highness.” Rarity’s voice cracked, and she very nearly squealed. “Oh, this is a dream come true. You have no idea. You have no idea.”
“Well, it is…” Glint paused. “It is certainly the finest dress I’ve ever worn.”
Glint was a griffon. Specifically, she was Princess Glint of Griffonstone. By noble birth, she was the rightful heir to her people’s empire. If it ever came that she was crowned upon the great stone rook, she would become Queen Glint, Ruler of All Griffons.
“You’re nervous.” Rarity giggled, running a hoof down Glint’s side.
Glint screeched. She quickly caught herself and choked off the sound, covering her muzzle with her talons. She rolled her tongue around inside her beak, and like a parrot, she mimicked the sound of a pony’s chuckle. “I am nervous, yes.”
“Would it help if I said you made that sound very lifelike?” Rarity asked, unable to keep her enthusiasm out of her tone, “Not to mention a flawless recovery from that little outburst. Your eqquish gets better every day.”
“Well,” Glint shifted in place, tugging on the collar of her dress with a claw. “If I stub a toe, the profanity may still be in griffish. But a princess shouldn’t swear, so maybe that’s for the best?”
“Just so, your Highness. Still, let’s try not to stub your ‘toes’ if we can avoid it.” Rarity’s horn glowed and she pulled Glint’s claws away from her throat, taking a moment to straighten the collar. “Perfect! Now let’s talk about mingling.”
“I know! I know,” Glint waved a claw. “I make my entrance on the big central stair, wings spread, good posture—”
“Not just good posture!” Rarity lifted a hoof. “Shoulders up! Wings stretched! You’ve got twice the wingspan of any pegasus who will be in that room, and the unicorns barely come up to your shoulders. Use that size to your advantage. Your dress makes it clear that you’re a civilized creature, but it’s up to you to make them feel that you’re a powerful creature. Command the room.”
“They won’t feel I have…” She gestured briefly with her talons. “Knives for hands? I remember, um… you know. That’s been a problem with ponies in the past.”
“Oh, they will! They absolutely will. You’re a carnivore in a room full of herbivores. And that’s why you must own the moment.” Rarity clapped her hooves tight together. “Think about it. For very nearly everypony there, this will be their first time seeing a griffon. And in that first moment they see you, what do they see?”
“Um…” She looked down at herself. “An alien?”
“They see a predator in a dress.” Rarity reached out to smooth a ruffle of the fabric. “But imagine back when my people had true royalty. Imagine our guests walked in on one of the Equestrian princesses of old, sword levitated beside her as she sat on the throne. Then what would they see?”
“Oh.” Glint laughed. “They’d see a mare holding a big knife.”
“In a rather menacing fashion!” Rarity grinned. “But it’s okay because she’s in a dress! And because she doesn’t hide from the fact that she’s waving around a big knife. The knife lets everypony know she could kill them. That the rule of royalty is absolute. But the dress lets them know she won’t. Nobility -- true nobility -- is power wrapped in kindness. Ponies respect that.”
“Power wrapped in kindness.” Glint took a deep breath, and let out a soft squwak. She rubbed at her throat with the blunt tips of her claws. “So I make my entrance on the big central stair, wings spread, shoulders up, bit of swagger. Then I walk down the central stair, and walk right up to Mr. Shooting Star, because he’s the one who will be most excited to meet me.”
Rarity’s horn glowed, and she pulled Glint’s talons away from her throat. “And he is?”
“Earth pony, blue coat, white mane, six stars in a circle for a cutie mark, he’ll be wearing brass horseshoes.” Glint rattled the details off quickly. “And I shake his hoof, and thank him for his planet’s hospitality. Then I read the speech. And you said it’s okay if people see that I’m checking my notes. And then you break things up and ponies mingle.”
“Perfect. And when everypony is mingling, you should…” She swirled a hoof in the air. “Project regality still, but not so strong as before! Let your mane, or, uh, feather frill, down a bit. Tell some of those wonderful stories of your homeworld. Not the terrible ones about poverty and starvation; those are just depressing. Tell the good ones. The war stories.”
“Like um… the Three Winters War?”
“Which one was that?” Rarity asked, adjusting the position of one of the jewels. “Honestly all the names run together after a while.”
“The one where King Zarok the Composer launched his winter campaign against the Engelites during the—”
“Oh, yes.” Rarity swiped a hoof in the air and Glint fell silent. “That was a good one. Tell that one.”
“Right. And never talk to one pony too long. Make sure everypony has a chance to meet me.” Glint swallowed, then gripped her throat with her talons, massaging the spit down. An involuntary croak escaped her beak. “Right?”
“Your Highness.” Rarity gripped Glint’s talon more firmly with her telekinesis, and planted it flat on the floor. “If you keep touching your throat, ponies will think I made your collar too tight. Stop it.”
“I…” Glint swallowed again. “I feel like I’m having some trouble breathing.”
“Were you having any ‘trouble’ before you knew? Or did this problem mysteriously appear in the last twenty-four hours?” Rarity asked. Glint’s eyes went to the floor. “Your Highness, you are nervous, not suffocating. I admit you are nervous for quite understandable reasons, but a princess does not show her fear on her face.”
“I… I know.” Glint lifted her head. “You’re right. This is the first impression these ponies will have of the griffon race. I need to make sure it’s a good one.”
“Precisely so.” Rarity smiled, reaching up to put a hoof on Glint’s shoulder. With the size difference between them, she had to reach a bit. “Tell me you can do this.”
“I can do this!” Glint said. Then she spoke more firmly. “I can do this! Though…” Again, she made a sound like a chuckle. “I wouldn’t mind one more chance to review the notes.”
“Not a problem in the slightest! You won’t be making your entrance until twenty minutes after the party starts. Plenty of time to prepare!” She glanced up as a chime sounded throughout the house. “Speak of the thing itself. I need to go be a good host. Can I leave you with Spike?”
“Oh. Oh, no. No. There’s no need to bother Spike,” Glint said quickly. “I can keep my own time. I promise.”
“Very good! Then see you soon.” Rarity used her magic to lift her own dress's elaborate train and walked out into the main hall, headed to greet the first guests who waited at the front door.
Glint watched her go. For nearly half a minute after Rarity was gone, she watched the open doorway in case Rarity came back. Finally, she turned away, and walked to the window.
She stood on the 389th story of a tower the equestrians labeled “Canterlot Residential Tower A3X97Z122.” She was told the tower was 600 stories in total, making it just over 2.5 miles tall. It was home to 122,987 ponies exactly, along with 233,987 robots to serve the ponies’ every desire. Ponies came and went via 32 omnidirectional transport shafts and 21,312 air car docks. And pegasi could fly if they wanted. Nearly every house had a balcony.
There a was another tower like it across the way. And another to her left, and another to her right, and dozens more beyond. They weren’t exactly the same. Architectural tastes varied. Some were pragmatic, some were bohemian, some were austere and others encouraged residents to hang colorful banners off their porches. They were connected by glittering walkways made of glass. Floating platforms drifted between them like great whales, their backs home to parks, or parties that never stopped.
It was night, but Canterlot was never really dark. She could see aircars zipping back and forth at hundreds of miles per hour. She could see pegasi flying through the great chasms for fun. She could see unicorns and earth ponies on the platforms enjoying the eternal festival.
But she couldn’t see the horizon—the towers blocked her view. And she couldn’t see the ground, as the city seemed to descend forever into the dull red glow of the great furnaces. And she couldn’t see the sky either. The city lights drowned the stars out. The only stars in Canterlot were the twinkling of artificial lights.
A chime sounded. “Glint,” Spike’s voice sounded directly in her ear. “You’re needed.”
Glint took a breath, and marched out through the door. When she passed through it, she spread her wings, and lifted her shoulders, and walked with a swagger in her step. She could hear the babble of conversation from around the bend ahead of her. Then a spoon chimed against a glass, and the room fell silent.
“Ladies and gentlecolts!” Rarity announced, her voice carrying far and wide. “Presenting her Imperial Highness, Heir to the Griffon Empire, Defender of the Homeworld and bane of Arimaspi, Princess Glint of Griffonstone!”
She made her entrance beautifully, at the top of the grand central stair. In the visitors' hall below, two hundred of Rarity’s dear friends and associates were gathered, all dressed in finery, and she took their breath away. Her body was alien, her stature was intimidating, her bearing was regal.
And it really was the finest dress she’d ever worn. A mix of traditional griffon styles and pony artistic concepts, made of steel and lace and jewels. The dress of a warrior princess.
Ponies gaped at her as she neared the crowd. A few eyed her talons and hurriedly backed away. She ignored them, and walked towards the little blue stallion near the front who was so tense he was shaking. The top of his head was slightly below her shoulders.
She extended her talons and opened them, and the little herbivore before her put his hoof in her grasp. A few ponies gasped. One squeaked in fright. Glint made a sound like she was laughing, and shook his hoof in the proper fashion.
“Hello, Mr. Shooting Star,” she said. “I understand you’ve been very eager to meet me.”
“Ah! Very yes, your Highness!” he squeaked. Behind him, Rarity looked on with approval. “I’ve spent decades studying life beyond our solar system, but I never thought I’d get to meet an actual alien in person! It’s an honor.”
“And a pleasure to meet you as well.” Glint gently released her grip. “Tell me, Mr. Star, have you ever been to space?”
“Many times.” He nodded quickly. “That’s always a joy.”
“Do you have access to a starship with faster-than-light capability?”
“Ah… no,” he frowned. “Leaving Equestria is—”
Glint laughed quickly, before Rarity could frown. “Difficult?” He blushed, and she let out a suitably alien squawk. “Yes, it is. But if you do ever decide to travel, do let me know. I would be happy to make a letter of introduction to my noble house, and I’m sure they’d receive you as an honored guest.”
“Oh… oh, gosh. Thanks! Uh, Princess.” He nodded vigorously.
They exchanged a few more words, and then Glint turned back to the crowd. “Forgive me, everypony. I was supposed to give a speech, wasn’t I?”
She gave her speech. The crowd loved it. She mingled, and told stories about wars that happened before she was born. On request, she reared up on her hind legs and gave her most intimidating “battle screech,” a sound that sent one poor little filly hiding behind her mother’s legs. She compared wings with a pegasus, and verbatim repeated a crude joke Rarity had taught her that she didn’t personally understand but that made everypony laugh. And she didn’t touch her throat.
Eventually, she met everypony, and got to give those who really wanted to meet her more personal time. Hours passed. It wasn’t until 2 AM that guests started to depart in significant numbers. But eventually, the floor cleared. The only ones left were Glint and Mr. Shooting Star, talking endlessly about quasars. Glint didn’t know anything about quasars, but she was from space, so he was happy to educate her.
Finally, he left. The door shut behind him with a click. No sooner had the latch sealed than little robots sprung from every hidey-hole and cupboard, running around to vacuum the carpets, pick up dropped cups, and restore the hall to its normal state. Glint let out a long breath, and cracked her joints.
“You did very well,” Spike said. Glint’s head violently jerked up to look at him. He’d been waiting for her. “I’ll clean up from here. You can go to bed.”
“Where’s Rarity?” Glint looked around the empty hall. “I wanted to talk with her about how it went.”
“Rarity is taking a bath, and then will be going to bed herself. It is nearly 4 AM, and she is tired.” Spike said, his words clipped. “Your conversation can wait.”
“But I thought it went really well. And I know she was excited to—”
“Do you need help finding your way back to your room?” Spike asked.
Glint paused. She stared at him for a few long moments. Then she looked at the ground. “No. No, I… I know the way. Sorry.” Spike didn’t say a word. He watched her until she turned towards the correct hallway and started to walk. “Good night, Spike.”
“Good night,” he replied.
Glint made her way through long halls, until she found an elevator door. It had no buttons inside, because it only went one place: down five stories, into her house. It was a perfect replica of her family’s wing of the Palace at Griffonstone, down to every detail. She could even sleep in her own room.
Rarity longed to make dresses for true Equestrian royalty. But as it seemed unlikely that dream would ever come true, she contented herself playing with her dolls.
Her favorite doll was named Glint, and she was the princess of all griffons.
