Twilight Sparkle. Dean of all eight of Canterlot University’s research divisions. The greatest scientific mind of the modern age, mother of one, devoted wife. And where was she now? Staring at a bowl of fries in some dumpy little restaurant’s bar on the low side of town, trying hard not to think of the crumbled newspaper cutout in the pocket of her hoodie.
The fries were lathered in a gooey, sticky white cheese. Some country whiner was wailing from the speakers about how his wife had left him, his dog had died, and all he had to his name was a bottle of booze. Though their circumstances weren’t even remotely similar, Twilight felt she could sympathize. She resisted the urge to glance at the door. She’d see the same thing she had for the past hour: a near-empty dining room, the noonday sun streaming through slightly darkened windows, and not a soul coming in to greet her. She waved off the bartender with a sigh and plucked a lone fry between her fingers, suckling on the artery-clogging treat like a child did a pacifier. It did little to ease the butterflies in her stomach. The door’s electronic bell chimed. Twilight didn’t look. Another slouching worker managing to get in a late lunch.
Or so she suspected until the individual sat next to her at the bar and took one of her fries. Already irritable after having waited more than an hour, Twilight’s first reaction was to snap at the offender. A look at the hand doused her boiling frustration before it could properly ignite: supple, delicate, and with tasteful purple nails filed to perfection. It was white, with a magnificent three-diamond wedding ring of gleaming silver. Oh, but she knew that ring well. The owner had paraded it around for months when she’d first acquired it. And so it was Twilight knew who had sat next to her. It was easily the last person in the world she’d have ever expected.
The butterflies that had been fluttering around her guts decided that battering her insides with their wings wasn’t good enough, and so tried to start a hurricane instead. Her heart pattered and she hid her hands in her pockets, hoping she hadn’t been recognized. Maybe if she could get up and out quick enough—
“Don’t even think about it.” Rarity’s hand was on her back. It was a soft touch, but its presence alone told Twilight she wasn’t getting out of this so easily.
That was it, then. Her game was over.
Unless…!
Twilight pushed her hood back and forced out a grin. “R-Rarity! What a, uh, surprise to find you at the Margaritaville.”
Rarity had a smile of her own, but it was a small thing. A fleeting breeze of a smile, really, that showed patience and kindness, but also a strain she couldn’t hide, though she undoubtedly wanted to. “I’m sure it is. But I find it has its… charms.”
Twilight ate another fry to buy herself time to think, keeping her strained smile on the whole time. Rarity flagged down the bartender and ordered a drink to go. Ah-ha! “Just popping in to pick up something? I imagine you’re pretty busy at this time of day.”
Waiting until the bartender was gone, Rarity turned to Twilight with a look of dull incredulity. “Do you really think I ever do business on this side of town, Twilight? I am generous, but I’m also a businesswoman, and not many living in the Lowtown can afford my fees.”
Right, right, stupid query. But then that led to a real question, and the nature of the situation made Twilight forget all about those butterflies. “So… what are you doing in Lowtown?”
Rarity sighed. She set her elbow to the countertop and her chin in her palm. Hardly proper poise for a woman obsessed with appearances. Her shoulders sagged while she stared at the wall of tasteless countryside décor, as if they might hold some answer beyond her awareness. “The same thing as you, I suppose. Looking for an escape.” She plucked up another fry and slurped it down in a most unRaritylike fashion.
Whoop, there were those butterflies again. Twilight fidgeted and gave a breezy, anxious giggle. “I-I don’t know what you mean. I was just—” Before she could react, Rarity reached into her pocket and pulled out the crumbled newspaper clipping. “Hey!”
Without looking at the paper between her forefinger and index finger, Rarity quoted, “Getting caught in the rain. Have half a brain. Into Champagne.”
Twilight froze, hand half-raised to snatch the clipping back. Whatever objections, excuses, and defenses that had been rapidly forming in her mind disappeared into a black void of uncertainty and astonished awareness. Slowly, she let her hand fall to the countertop. “You’re answering it too?”
“Answering it?” Rarity smiled that bitter smile once more and let the clipping drop from her fingers. “Darling, the ad is mine.”
It was no use. The void was too great, and Twilight floundered. For a few seconds she even forgot Rarity was there, her supposedly vast and capable egghead of a brain scratching at the dregs of its seemingly infinite reserves for some way to comprehend what she’d just learned. Then it failed, and the system suffered a total meltdown complete with sparking nodes and frying wires that lead to a single, monosyllabic output: “Huh?”
Rarity sent her a one-eyed glance that spoke of no judgement, only sad understanding. “One must wonder what a married mother of one with a hugely successful career is doing answering a newspaper ad for a fling.”
With grinding slowness, the gears in Twilight’s brain resumed their turning. She licked her dry lips and tried to ignore the third revenge of the butterflies. “I… I could ask you something similar. What about Rainbow Dash?”
The smile disappeared. Rarity’s fingers twisted the wedding band on her finger back and forth, her eyes following the motions of the majestic rock that stood as its centerpiece. She said nothing for some time, long enough for the bartender to come back and deposit her drink on the counter. Twilight watched, thinking about the ring that didn’t adorn her own finger.
“You would think that a woman as exciting as Rainbow could never get dull, but there it is,” Rarity whispered. Her eyes flicked to Twilight, perhaps in expectation of some reaction. Twilight offered none. “She used to make me feel like a princess. But now? Now she’s a career woman. Always off to another game. Always at the parties and fundraisers and press releases. Always practicing. And me? I’m always on the road, making the next deal, designing the latest great icon of fashion. We’re lucky if we can get together once a month.”
Twilight frowned as she considered this. “I know I don’t have any place to judge, but… is that all? You’re attempting to cheat because you hardly see one another? Couldn’t one of you make a sacrifice for that?”
Rarity pursed her lips, but it was unclear if the frustration on her face was due to Twilight’s statement or something else. Still fidgeting with her ring, she said, “If that were the only problem then I’d agree. But… the fire is gone. There was once a time when Rainbow could sweep me off my feet every day and make me feel like the most loved woman in the world. That feeling – that irreplaceable, beloved sensation – is one of the reasons I so happily agreed to be hers. And now?”
She heaved a long sigh and ate another French fry. She still hadn’t touched her drink. “She tries, the poor dear. She comes home with flowers. Brings me on nice dates. Last month she even tolerated the opera.”
Twilight’s considered herself lucky her jaw wasn’t on the floor. “Really?”
Rarity only fell back into her slump, chin atop her palm. The bright and vibrant woman Twilight knew now appeared as a dull, bored, weary caricature of Twilight’s friend. “It was an act of desperation. She’s losing me, and she knows it. What’s worse, I’m losing her.”
“You can’t mean that.” Twilight rested a hand on Rarity’s shoulder. “Rainbow adores you.”
“Maybe once.” Rarity’s gaze settled on her ring again. “But now we’re like strangers. There was a time five years ago when she or I would come home and I’d be elated just to see her smug face again. She’s not so smug anymore, not since that shoulder injury. She’ll give me a kiss, ask about my month. I'll inquire about her latest practice. It’s all just us going through the motions. It’s like we remember what a loving couple is supposed to do, so we keep doing it out of habit, but we’re only maintaining an illusion that fools neither of us.”
Sitting up, she reached into her coat pocket and looked at her phone. It was blank. She deposited it onto the table. “We used to text one another every hour or two, just to know we were thinking of one another. Now we hardly even call in all the time we are apart. We’ve grown distant, Twilight, and it seems absence does not really make the heart grow fonder.”
That didn’t sound like the relationship Twilight had seen. But then, she saw the two of them so rarely nowadays, and almost never together. When she met Rainbow for a college fundraising event last month, she’d seemed nothing short of thrilled to be there. And Rarity had always ever been Rarity. Had they simply kept things under wraps? Or maybe there was another side to the story. If she could get a chance to talk to Rainbow—
“I know that look,” Rarity muttered, tone bitter.
Twilight blinked, her gears once again grinding to a halt. Watching Rarity at last take a sip of her whiskey, she asked, “What look?”
“The one where you’re trying to figure out how to ‘make it right’. Sunset has the same one.” Rarity looked her in the eyes, revealing a sadness that Twilight had never before seen on the woman. “Believe me, there’s nothing left to try. Rainbow and I have been doing so for over a year now, but…” She closed her eyes and pressed a couple fingers to her temple. “It needs to end.”
Twilight’s heart sank. She wanted to argue, to defy this new variable in her reality, but the energy for it just wasn’t there. And besides, she couldn’t try to right her friend’s issues when she had enough of her own. Rarity would call her a hypocrite, and she’d be right. So instead, she reached across Rarity to steal her drink. No protest was offered. It tasted potent indeed, far more so than she would have expected Rarity to order. Maybe it was just the place.
It seemed perfect considering their situations.
“Things changed,” she said as she set the drink aside. Her eyes went to the dark mark on her finger. “I left my band in my sock drawer, buried deep. I didn’t want whoever I met to think I was still… attached.”
Rarity turned slightly, watching with brow knitted in concern. Twilight found she appreciated the attention far more than she’d have thought, so she pressed on. “Timber… changed when they took the camp away. He used to be so full of energy and life. Now he spends his days drained, plucking on his guitar and reminiscing on what he lost. He hardly pays me any mind. He tried getting a few new jobs, but he always loses them within a month.” She crossed her arms on the table and let her chin drop onto them. “He’s not the man I fell in love with. He’s honestly not much of anything now.”
Rarity heaved another long sigh. “That’s painful to hear. I remember how he always seemed so alive when we first met him.”
Yes, truer words were never spoken. Twilight closed her eyes and recalled Timber Spruce’s jubilant smile. The way he listened when she rambled on about her experiments. He never understood them, but he didn’t need to. He had been enamored by her knowledge, and she had appreciated his… appreciation. Now when she tried to talk about her day’s work, he barely even acknowledged that she’d spoken. He was probably sitting on their front porch right now, strumming his guitar and staring into the past, letting his life slide away into that eternal abyss that was time.
When she opened her eyes, she found a world blurred by tears. She sniffed and rubbed them away with a thumb. That alone took up whatever energy she had left, so she just stared at the fries before her and wondered if it would be worth it to try eating another. “I loved him so much. Now he’s…”
“Distant?” Rarity ventured timidly.
Twilight glanced at her. “Something like that.”
They were silent for a while, listening to the worn out records of country songs that passed through the small restaurant. Every once in a while one of them would consume a fry or sip the over-alcoholic beverage. Twilight thought of Timber Spruce. Of Rainbow Dash. Of the lives they all thought they’d lead. Everything seemed so perfect ten years ago, when they were bright eyed and bushy tailed high school students. Love seemed like such a pure and wonderful concept.
To be fair, Twilight Sparkle’s life was perfect. She had her career. She still loved her work. Money, even with only her working, was no issue. And her dear daughter, currently spending a week at the doting grandparents’ place, was as good a child as any mother could hope to have. But somehow all of that seemed so inconsequential when compared to the utter failure that had become her marriage. She wasn’t even sure if Timber knew how she felt, or cared. That was perhaps the most painful part of it all.
And what of Rarity? She was a fashion icon, wealthy, and an incredibly successful businesswoman. Her life, at least from an outside perspective, seemed nothing short of fabulous. Indeed, there'd been no reason to suspect she might have similar woes. Twilight idly wondered about the rest of her friends. Pinkie was single but dating, Fluttershy a widow but content with her two kids. At least she felt like she had a good idea of where they currently stood as far as relationships went. And Applejack? Engaged. One would think being engaged meant things were going beautifully, but what if AJ had problems like these and just wasn’t saying anything? The thought left a cold pit in Twilight’s stomach.
Rarity’s voice broke the silence between them. “I suppose the question now is: where are we going from here?”
Twilight tilted her head to examine her friend. Rarity was back to staring at her ring. “I’m not sure. But Rainbow would never leave you. You know that, don’t you?”
“Why do you think I’m here?” Rarity’s gloomy eyes met hers. “That woman is loyal to a fault. To leave me would destroy her, but she’s not happy staying. One way or another, she’s living in a sort of personal hell.”
Pursing her lips, Twilight realized how much sense that made. “So your solution is to have an affair?” she asked, unable to mask her incredulity.
“It is.” The question on Twilight’s face must have been obvious, for she giggled. At least, it was something similar to a giggle, only broken and weak, like she was laughing to keep from crying. “Rainbow could never betray me like that. She would see it as a terrible failing on her part. In fact, I’m sure that’s exactly how she looks at our current situation: a failure that is entirely her doing. The fact that she devotes so much effort trying to fix our floundering ship is all the proof I need of that. She can’t do it, but she can’t give up, because giving up to her is like betraying me, and she won’t let herself do that.”
Twilight sat up slowly as understanding dawned on her. “So you’re giving her an out. If you’re the one that fails, then she’s off the hook. But Rarity… that will crush her.”
“I know.” Bowing her head, Rarity held the ring close to her chest. She took a long, heavy breath and batted her eyes. Twilight pretended not to notice how wet they were. “I know. And I hate it. I hate it so much. But she’ll be free, Twilight, you understand? She’ll no longer be shackled to me. And in a few years, perhaps, she’ll be able to live again without me. If I don’t do this, if I let things stand, then she’ll just keep making herself more and more miserable, probably for the rest of her life. I c-can’t do that to her.”
A solution. That’s what Rarity was chasing. And as wrong as it sounded, to Twilight it also seemed so very brave and generous. She reached out to touch Rarity’s arm. “But what about you?”
Another one of those not-quite-chuckles. “Oh, Darling, don’t fret about me. I’ll spend a few weeks with some eager young man, but I’ll probably end up a spinster. Which is fine, I suppose. If it’s for Rainbow’s happiness.”
Twilight gaped. There was generosity, but this? “No. No! Rarity, you can’t be serious. What about your happiness?”
Rarity waved her off with a wreck of a smile. “I’m sure I can be happy amongst my fabrics. A girl must have her—”
“Rarity.”
Something had sparked within Twilight, a fire of anger and a great sense of wrongness. There were a great many things she could permit to happen, but to see her friend accepting this sacrifice, acting as if it was right, was more than she was willing to tolerate. “You deserve better,” she growled. “Do not tell me or yourself otherwise. It’s okay if you’re willing to do this for Rainbow, but not if you haven’t considered yourself. Stop thinking so selflessly and be greedy for once.”
“Greedy?” Rarity’s eyebrows shot up in an expression of bewilderment. “Twilight, I’m one of the wealthiest women in Canterlot.”
The blatant dodge only stirred the fire even hotter. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”
Rarity held her gaze for a moment longer, only to turn away and take a long pull of her drink. She set it down with a dull thunk. Wearily, she asked, “What do you expect me to do, Twilight?”
“I expect you to at least try to be happy.” Twilight attempted to turn Rarity to face her, but her friend resisted. “Are you sure you can’t—?”
“What, talk it out?” Rarity shot her a withering look. “The love is gone. As certainly as last decade’s fashion trends. We cannot continue like this.”
That she could give up so completely astounded Twilight. “So that’s it? You just decide for yourself that nothing can be done?”
Rarity pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. “And what of you and Timber Spruce, hmm? Have you tried talking it out with him?”
The anger died like a fire sputtering in a cold wind. Twilight felt numb, and she was sure her insides were trying to eat her whole. Turning away from Rarity’s harsh gaze, she buried her guilt in a few lukewarm, cheese-lathered fries. She told herself the little heart attack sticks were the reason she held back the tears.
Another quiet settled between them. Another opportunity for Twilight to linger on her own faults and failures. She rested her chin in her palm, copying Rarity’s earlier pose, and studied a lone fry between her fingers for the sake of something else to focus on. Not that it helped, of course. Her thoughts drifted to Timber Spruce and happier times.
“Once, right before we became engaged, Timber brought me camping.” The story started spontaneously, and she could find no reason to stop it. “I thought it was going to be a routine trip. Just for fun. He brought me to this big lake in the middle of the forest. I remember thinking how beautiful the sparkling water was, and the mountains on the opposite shore. And the way he smiled was so… cute.” The word slipped out dry and tasteless. “That night by the campfire he played a song on his guitar that he’d written just for me. It was sappy and stupid and I loved it so much.
“I can’t remember the words.” She let her chin fall to the countertop with a long exhale, arms resting in front of her face. “The image in my head isn’t beautiful. It’s foggy and boring and cliché. The wonder of those days is gone, that feeling like I was the prettiest, most loved girl in the world. I look at Timber now and I don’t see a charming, handsome Romeo. It would be different if he tried, if he showed some interest in our relationship, but… there’s nothing there now.”
She could hear Rarity shifting in her seat before she spoke hesitantly. “What about your daughter?”
Twilight frowned at the query. “He’s not much better with her. It’s like he’s a stranger living in our house. I’m sure Corona’s noticed. I asked Mom and Dad to take her this week partially for a break, but mostly because at least with them she’ll get attention from two people instead of one.”
“Oh, Twilight… I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“Not as sorry as I am.” She groaned as she sat up, stretched until her back popped. “I’ve tried talking to him. I’m not even sure he hears what I’m saying.”
Rarity ran her finger along the rim of her plastic cup with a pout. “I confess, that’s more than Rainbow and I have managed. I would like to talk to her about this, but…”
Twilight glanced at her. She saw beneath that grim countenance a hint of anxiety and fear. She wasn’t sure how to read that expression. It seemed to speak volumes, but in a language she’d yet to master. Twilight never did consider herself good at reading faces. That was more in Sunset's skill range.
But then Rarity’s eyes lit up with some secret fire of renewed energy. A quiet energy, but a visible one: her shoulders straightened, her head rose, and she flicked her ever-immaculate curls from her face. She turned to Twilight, one hand on her waist, and grew a wry smile. “So, how about it?”
The new behavior forced Twilight to stop and shift gears. She ended up lost on her mental highway, however. “How about what?”
“I wrote an ad in the paper,” Rarity replied wryly. “You answered.”
Comprehension dawned, but Twilight knew better than to get worked up. She fired a smirk of her own and shook her head. “Right. Nice try, but I’m not as gullible as I used to be.” She waited for the giggle, or perhaps a hint of disappointment that she’d not fallen for the joke. Rarity never broke her saucy gaze. With every passing second, Twilight grew more and more uncertain. Rarity couldn’t have proposed that in any seriousness. She couldn’t have.
When Rarity finally spoke, it was in a playful coo as her hand brushed against Twilight’s arm. “What’s the matter, Darling? I thought you were here for a secret rendezvous.”
Twilight’s stomach seemed to constrict as the air left her. “Th-this is a joke, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” Rarity whispered, her eyes smoldering. “You’ve gotten easier on the eyes over the years, and I’m sure there’s a seedy hotel or two around here somewhere.”
It finally dawned upon her that maybe, just maybe, Rarity was being completely serious. She raised her hands as if to ward off a blow, a fire igniting in her cheeks. “Whoa, whoa, hold on. Rarity, that’s… No!”
Rarity pouted, although it seemed more out of confusion than rejection. “Whyever not? Correct me if I’m wrong, but we came here for the same reason.”
“Really, Rarity? I mean, really?” Twilight shook her head sharply. “I am not going to be the reason Rainbow has to leave you. I get your relationship is on the rocks, but you’re still friends, right?”
Hesitation flashed across Rarity’s features. “Well, yes, I’d say so.” She bit her lip and glanced away. "I hope so..."
“And do you think you’ll still be friends after you have an affair?”
Rarity’s hesitation faded instantly. Her head gradually lowered along with her shoulders. “I… I would like to say 'yes', but…”
Twilight set a hand to her chest. “I’m still Rainbow’s friend, and I would like to stay her friend. How do you think she’d see me if I’m the one you cheated with?”
Groaning, Rarity turned back to her drink, though she didn’t take it. “I’m sorry, Twilight. I wasn’t thinking.”
Oh, she’d been thinking, alright. Just not with her head. Twilight shook hers in frustration. “I’m sorry. As much as I’m all for helping my friends, that’s a line I won’t cross.”
“Yes, and that’s reasonable of you.” Pouting, Rarity nabbed another fry. “I guess this means my affair idea is bust, at least for tonight. Maybe I could try in a different newspaper? Or perhaps something online.”
Groaning, Twilight caught Rarity’s wrist as she was reaching for another heart attack stick. “What you’re going to do is talk to Rainbow about this.”
“Darling—”
“No, listen.” Twilight met her gaze, trying to channel as much firmness into her expression as she could. “I get it, you think it’s over. Okay. But don’t you think agreeing to end it is a lot better than having her catch you in an affair? You need to talk, Rarity, for your ongoing friendship if nothing else.”
Rarity withered as if she were a flower without enough water. “You said it yourself, Twilight: she won’t let me go. She’s too loyal for that.”
“Do you want to lose her as a friend?”
“No, but—”
“Then you’ll find a way.” Seeing Rarity’s lingering doubt, Twilight took her hand in both of hers and gave it a squeeze. “Look, I’ll go with you. I can mediate. I know that’s sort of Sunset’s thing, but I can do it. I won’t see two of my best friends break.”
Staring at their hands, Rarity’s face shifted from anxiety to frustration, then to hope. The latter brought a real smile to Twilight’s face for the first time since she’d sat at the bar. Surely, Rarity would accept and they’d set things right. As her friend met her gaze, Twilight leaned forward in anticipation.
“I’ll do it your way,” Rarity declared. But just as Twilight was starting to celebrate, Rarity added, “On one condition.”
The smile fell before it could fully form. Twilight shrank back, but didn’t let go of Rarity’s hand. “Y-yes?”
The corner of Rarity’s lip twitched upwards and her eyes sparkled. “After we’ve talked to Rainbow, regardless of which way it goes, you and I go on a date.”
Twilight groaned. “Why are you so hung up on that?”
“Because you answered my ad.” Now it was Rarity holding Twilight’s hands, her supple fingers stroking Twilight’s. The gentle caress made Twilight shiver, and she couldn’t tell if it was for negative reasons. No, stop. Bad body! You shouldn’t be reacting to this. As much as she wanted to, Twilight couldn’t bring herself to pull her hands away.
Rarity went on, heedless or uncaring of Twilight’s plight. “You’re here, looking for the same thing I am. It can’t be a coincidence that it’s you. Maybe there’s something here neither of us recognized before. And if not…” The sly smile came back, the one hinting at a pleasurable future. “Well, what’s to stop us from having a little fun?”
Twilight avoided the temptation to lick her lips. Averting her gaze and trying not to think of the heat in her cheeks, she whispered, “W-we're married.”
“Don’t even try.” Rarity’s soft palm cupped her cheek and brought her face forward once more. “You know as well as I why that doesn’t matter right now.” Those blue eyes were so…
With a gasp, Twilight pushed Rarity’s hands away and turned to the counter. Her heart pounded in her chest, pounded in a way she’d not felt in so, so long. It was wrong, this whole ordeal. She never should have come here! Stupid Timber. Stupid Rarity. Stupid feelings! Why had things turned out this way? She was a good wife, wasn’t she? And what would this do to Corona? Or Rainbow? She needed to think about this rationally, but her mind kept going back to Rarity’s eyes, so much more vibrant and interesting than Timber’s dull disinterest. And the feeling she got when Rarity touched her, a feeling she’d not felt in so long…
She wanted it. No matter how much her brain denied it, her heart cried its need to feel love again. What Rarity was offering had so many risks, too many to count. But then, coming here had been a risk. She’d spent so much time living in the cool comfort of a risk-free life. Her marriage was broken, and Rarity’s offer had the potential to be more than just a fling. Even if it did turn out to be nothing, at least Twilight would get to have that feeling of affection she’d been missing. Yes, there were risks, but the potential rewards…
She thought of Timber Spruce. Of dead campfires and songs with missing lyrics and warm touches gone cold. Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding.
“I’m sorry.” Rarity started to stand. “I think I should—” Twilight caught her hand before she could get away. The two stared at one another, Rarity with shoulders hunched and guilt in her eyes, Twilight with a newfound sense of determination.
“Alright. You’ve got a deal.”
Rarity blinked, face going slack from uncertainty.
Then she grinned.
