Twilight's Red Velvet

2

Twilight Sparkle picked a quill from her drawer and laid it plainly on her usual work desk. Rolling a standard piece of parchment across the surface, she let out a long-awaited sigh. After a night of bumping her head against a wall, she finally felt confident enough to pick up the quill.

~~~

“Dear Mother,

Thanks for your letter! It has been a while since we’ve last heard from each other; and perhaps you're right, it is a good time to meet. When do you think we should?”

~~~

Twilight held her quill above the page, scanning it up and down, referring to her mother's letter. “No, that’s no good. She already asked me for a time and place. I can’t ask her the same." Twilight wanted the meeting place to be close to her home in Canterlot, but nothing around her house. She wasn't looking for a stay so much as a vacation. With how much she'd changed, she had the feeling it would be awkward to have dinner in her old house. Twilight bit her lip, “Perhaps it would be best if we avoided Canterlot altogether. Maybe something closer to Ponyville?”

Twilight leaned back in her seat, staring blankly at the ceiling. “There’s a burger place down the road from here; it isn’t far. Would I be willing to take my mom to such a place?”

Twilight shook her head, “No, that’s absurd and disrespectful. I can’t treat her like a complete stranger! What’ll she think of me?”

Then where should they go? Ponyville wasn’t known for fine dining in particular. If anything, Ponyville was known for its abundance of casual joints designed as get-together places, not higher eating. No wonder Canterlot ponies looked down upon Ponyville; at face value, Ponyville's residents were no more than farmers and the like. Twilight crumpled her paper, tossing it far behind her.

“If I can’t find a restaurant, then maybe I could invite her over. I’m sure I can cook something up.” Twilight cooking was asking for disaster. The last time Twilight cooked anything decent was back in her academy days; but even then, she was a “by the box” chef. “Oooh, what will she think of me? Even with magic school, I don't know any recipe spells! She’ll be so disappointed!”

Twilight shuffled through her drawers, her wings flapping involuntarily, “Oh, Spike! Do you know where that map of Canterlot went?” A tiny tail perked up as the head of a purple dragon moaned his existence. “Spike, do you have any idea where I put that? I’m usually so organized!”

“We have a map?” Spike rolled over once again, embracing a tiny, white, plush unicorn in retaliation, “I don’t remember any map.”

“Oh, come on, Spike. You know we do! It’s the complete map of Canterlot; you know, the one we got from the annual Canterlot Magic Festival.”

Spike’s tail wilted for a moment, before perking up once again, “You mean the one we got eight years ago? Twilight, we weren’t even in Ponyville at the time; you weren’t even a graduate! I’m going back to bed. . .”

Twilight racked her brain, trying to remember the name of any good, high-class restaurants worthy of her mother. The last time she went exploring in Canterlot was when she and her friends celebrated after planning her brother’s wedding. That was also the last time she really saw her mother. Twilight let out a hearty “ugh” before returning to the drawers. Her favorite place to eat in Canterlot was a sandwich shop, she simply wasn't fit for scouring Canterlot's fine dining scene.

“AHA!” The alicorn rejoiced, flinging a soggy stack of papers, wedged between drawers, into the air.

“Spike, do you know how this got wet?”

The dragon threw his faintly audible groan across the library as Twilight pried the pages apart, finding a neatly-placed puddle of ink between them.

“Oh, Spike, it’s hopeless. The pages are ruined! How am I going to tell which restaurant to take my mother to if the map is ruined?”

“Why don’t you fly to Canterlot ahead of time and find a good place to eat? Or, you could take her to one of the places we have here; she wasn’t really that demanding.”

“Spike, what do you know of my mother?” Barked Twilight.

“But . . . he does have a point,” The princess glanced behind, worryingly scouting out her wings. She still wasn’t confident in them; it took a little over an hour to fly across town. She knew she wouldn’t become a Rainbow Dash overnight, but it would take longer still to calculate exactly how long it would take her to travel to Canterlot, not to mention finding a suitable place, flying back, and writing a reply. But that wasn’t her only form of transportation; throughout her studies, she’d become increasingly more confident in her magical abilities, “Perhaps I could teleport there?”

Teleporting was much more realistic to her, but it took just as much effort as flying. Certainly, at her level of ability, it was much faster than flying. However, it was considered impractical for traversing longer distances and very often dangerous.

“The longest distance ever traveled by a teleportation spell was about 4.5 kilometers, roughly the distance between Ponyville and the Castle of the Two Sisters, but I doubt even I could replicate such a feat. The most I’ve ever gone was about half that; the standard is a fourth that distance . . .” Twilight squinted her eyes, trying to make out any sense of the blacked out text. "It's no use, this map is ruined." She flipped it over to see that the ink had bled through both sides. "I really don't want to do it, but the only pony who knows Canterlot about as well as this map is Rarity. I suppose anything is better than showing up empty-hooved, but--" She sighed, dropping the slopping map back into her drawer, “Spike, could you do a favor for me? I know you’re still upset about earlier, but could you go speak to Rarity and see if she knows any good places to eat in Canterlot? I’m sure she’s busy preparing for the ball and everything, but there’s no reason she wouldn’t talk to you.”

Spike sat up uneasily in his bed, his poor eyes sinking to look at the doll he clutched so tenderly. “A-Are you sure about that? I-I don’t know if I should be the one to go,” He clutched his head, “Twilight, you have all day, don’t you think it’d be best if you were the one to go instead? I don't think she'd refrain from talking to you either.”

“I know, but I don’t want to keep my mother waiting too long; you should never keep your mother waiting.”

Twilight looked up at Spike, sluggishly pushing his blanket to the side. She could see in his eyes that he was, indeed, hurt.

“Actually, Spike. Don’t worry about it; I’ll take care of it, you’re right. You should get some more rest; you were up late last night and I’m sure you’re going through a lot still.”

Twilight fetched her saddlebag hanging by the door and threw it over her.

“Thanks, Twilight.”

“No problem, Spike.”

Twilight Sparkle hurried through the roadside puddles as she made her way to Rarity’s boutique. As predicted, the weather ponies’ storm came through; and luckily, it wasn’t anything too severe and ended before the sun’s first rays. Although it was nearly noontime, not very many ponies were out wandering the streets, performing their daily errands, or even going about their usual shopping routines. The only few ponies seen taking their time out to tend to the day was the occasional mailpony and school-time newspaper colts who were hired for "strict volunteer hours".

“Hello, there!”

“O-Oh, hi, Princess Twilight! Lovely day we’re having, isn’t it?” A spotted colt added one more to a pile of several newspapers by Rarity’s doorstep. He smiled, giving his salutations. He appeared to be no older than Sweetie Belle.

“Why, yes indeed! Are these for Rarity?”

The newspaper colt looked down at his work, nodding, “Yes ma’am, it is. Are you going in to see her?”

“I’d planned on it. Don’t worry about it, I’ll take them in for you!” Twilight held the ten papers above her head, “Have a great day!”

The paperpony waved once again. Twilight knocked on the door, “Rarity? Are you home?”

Simultaneously, Rarity’s boutique erupted on queue with an array of crashes and explosions of all dynamics. Twilight took a step back, looking up in horror when the door suddenly cracked open.

“Yes? Who is it?” A white muzzle poked out from behind the decorated entryway.

“Um, Rarity? It’s Twilight. Working late again?”

“Oh! Why didn’t you say so! Come in, darling, come in!” From behind the wood barrier, Rarity heaved audibly, pulling at the door until it made an acceptable path toward the entry. The inside was dimly lit with only a single candle coming from the upstairs. Beneath such darkness was the legend herself among heaping piles of materials and fabrics of all shapes, sizes, and designs. "And yes, darling. This new ball as taken quite the cut from my schedule. Deadlines must be met!" Her voice rang with thirst and sleep deprivation; Twilight stepped lightly, scratching her head.

“Wow, Rarity, I didn’t know you worked in the dark. I’ve personally never found it to be too effective. You should definitely show me your secret sometime."

“Oh, no, darling, I could never. My secrets are mine to keep!" She paused to look around her briefly. "Ehhh, sorry about the mess, darling; I work upstairs,” Rarity tossed a few dozen dresses toward the opposite end of the room and swam her way through a fort of reject gowns.

“Hmm . . . If that’s so, how come there’s such a mess downstairs?” Twilight ducked as another piece came flying overhead.

“Don’t worry about it, darling, that’s only when the pieces misbehave,” Rarity chucked another yard behind her, muttering beneath her breath, "Aah! That's where I left you!"

“Misbehave?” Twilight lifted a perfectly plaid scratch, trying to find the faults in its almost mathematical shape.

“Oh, yes, darling, but it’s . . . hard to explain,” Rarity bit her tongue, tossing aside a shining pair of scissors. "Watch your step, darling."

“Hmhm,” she giggled, zigzagging around the hazzard “don’t worry about it, Rarity, I’m sure you have your own ways of running things. Here, I brought your papers in for you.”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, thank you, dear.”

The magical aura around the papers swiftly changed from violet to a baby blue color, in doing so, they drooped towards the ground, as though too heavy to carry.

“Rarity, if I can ask, how long have you been working?”

“Oh you know me, darling. I've been a seamstress for nearly my whole life!" Rarity looked back to catch Twilight's odd gaze. "Oh, right, not long, I assure you. It’s actually been . . .,” the mare squinted her eyes, trying to the make out the funny shapes on the wall behind her friend, “been about . . . a week? I’m not exactly sure.”

Twilight shrugged at the suggestion, “Oh, that’s not too bad. I remember studying for a whole twenty-one days, now that was a stretch!" She glowed knowing her record was still firm in place.

“That’s nice, darling,” Rarity’s voice echoed from atop the stairs, “but unlike you, I think it’s fair to say the rest of Equestria likes the sunlight, let alone sleep.”

“Haha, oh yeah. . .,” a ruby red gloss bloomed over the Twilight's smug expression. The cries of a trembling sewing machine resumed as the artist returned to her craft.

“Oh, what am I doing?” Rarity put a stop to her work, returning her attention the guest at hoof, “How can I help you, Twilight?”

“Help?” She blinked, still caught in the memory, “Oh, right! You see, it’s a bit of a long story.”

“Oh, don’t worry, darling, my dresses aren’t due until tomorrow,” Rarity glared at the five mannequins behind her, four of them taunting her with their bare appearance. She scoffed, “take all the time you need!” Throwing her hooves in the air.

“Well, if you insist,” Twilight took a deep breath to recite her quarrels, “Last night, I got a letter from my mother saying she wanted to arrange a meeting for old time’s sake, and I’m worried I won’t be able to find a good place to dine. I've never really been a fan of Canterlot dining, or at least I've never really tried it. While I was there, I was more of a student and stuck to eating, you know, the more . . . common pleasantries. Well, because I haven't exactly seen or heard from my mother in . . . quite a while, I wasn't sure--"

“Hmm, that doesn’t sound like too much hassle. What’s the catch?” Rarity raised a brow, snagging a second candlestick from a shelf not far from her workstation, igniting it with the spark of her horn.

“Well, that’s just it! I haven’t seen my mother in forever! I don’t even know what she likes, or who she is!”

“Posh, Twilight!” Rarity smirked, “That’s nonsense! That’s your mother! Everypony knows their own mother!”

“Well . . . I don’t know. She’s just never really been around much, I guess,” Twilight’s head hung low; Rarity’s hoof came to her cheek.

“Now, Twilight. Don’t worry about a thing, I’m sure you two will get along just fine. Now, if it’s a new dress you need, I would be more than happy to squeeze you into my schedule . . . so long as it’s after this next two weeks, I am absolutely booked!”

Twilight blushed, “Aww, thanks, Rarity, but I don’t need a new dress. I just came to see if you knew any fancy restaurants in Canterlot.”

There was a brief moment of silence between the two. Rarity burst with laughter, “Why didn’t you say so, Twilight? I was in Canterlot last week receiving this order, and I will say, I snacked at the most charming little place off by the edge of District Mane; it’s quality, let me tell you!”

Rarity paced about the room, almost in trance and all while holding a friendly chuckle, “It had this beautiful view of the palace; not the whole thing, mind you. You’ll have to take your money elsewhere if you want that kind of service; go to the District East or perhaps even out of town for that.”

“No, Rarity, that’s fine; what’s the name?”

“Oh, it was simply divine, this little palace. I swear, in all my time on Equestria, I have never tasted such magnificent bread rolls! My word, they were delicious! Oh, and everypony was there! At least, everypony I knew from a distance. You see, there was some kind of a party going on at the time; I don’t really know what happening or why I wasn’t invited, but it was a great place to hold a nice get-together.”

“And the name is . . .?”

“Oh, hold on, dear,” Rarity’s horn sparked as she thought. Never before had Twilight had the opportunity to see Rarity hit her true peak.

“Ah! It was called the Petite Pomegranate! Such a quaint, little place!”

“Th-The ‘Petite Pomegranate’? Are you sure that’s the one?” Twilight had resorted to pulling out quill and pad, jotting down any useful information she could salvage from the spewed jabber.

“Y-Yes! Of course! Oh, wait. Unless I’m thinking of the Royal Robin. Oooh, that place is good too! Such a lively place though. Are you sure you’re going with only your mother? Is your father going to be there too?”

Twilight hadn’t thought of it. What if her father showed up? When was the last time she'd heard from her father?

“Uh, just assume so,” She rubbed her neck awkwardly as Rarity stared her down.

“Very well, the Royal Robin it is!”

“Wait, what!? What happened to the Petite Pomegranate?” Twilight shuffled through her notes.

“The what? Darling, you aren’t making any sense. The Petite Pomegranate is an old drinking stable I happened to come across during my last trip to Vanhoover.”

In an instant, Twilight’s notepad became half its weight, “So are you sure it’s called the ‘Royal Robin’ and NOT the Petite Pomegranate?”

“Mmm, yes!” Rarity hit a high note as she cut into a piece of untouched fabric.

"And you're SURE the Royal Robin is in Canterlot?"

"Mhmm! Of course darling."

“Well, if you say so,” Twilight strolled to the bedroom door. “Thanks for your help, Rarity, I hope your work goes well.”

“Thank you, darling!” And at once, the machines were at a sprint: the sounds of mechanical mayhem revved up to a maximum. From the bottom of the stairs, if Twilight listened hard enough, she could almost hear the maniacal laughs of a madmare.

“She’s not crazy, I’m sure,” Twilight tip-toed through a moat of material and looked back from the front door, avoiding the hazardous stack of daily news and staying watchful of the stairs leading to the busy mare’s bedroom, “err, I hope.”

Twilight marched through town with a trail of papers behind her.

“No, this one’s no good. Ugh, I’ll have to buy a new notepad at this point,” She huffed, tearing out yet another page vandalized with illegible chicken scratch. She turned the book sideways, trying to make out anything she could.

“STEP RIGHT UP, EVERYPONY!!!”

“Huh?” Twilight’s noggin shot up, dumbfounded.

“STEP RIGHT UP AND BUY YOUR VERY OWN PRINCESS!!!”

“What in the wide, wide world of Equestria is going on over there?” Twilight picked up the pace. Ahead was a large crowd of shoppers holding bits high in the air, nearly tripping over each other hoping to get whatever product was being advertised.

“Pinkie?! What are you doing?”

Pinkie Pie, Ponyville’s own party planner pony, was standing on three boxes while holding up a sign in one hoof and shouting through a megaphone with the other. At the sight of the very princess they were advertising, the salesmare quickly silenced for the first time in her career.

“T-Twilight! There you are, now you can help us sell these!”

In her hooves, she held up a tiny, stuffed plushie representing the newly appointed alicorn princess in near split image accuracy. A stallion jumped from the crowd, attempting to snatch the toy from her hoof before he was smacked down to size.

“OH, WAIT YOUR TURN!”

Twilight frowned at the sight, “Pinkie, I don’t think this is legal. Besides, how did you find the time to make all of those?”

She hadn’t noticed at first, but when the stallion jumped forward, she was made aware of the massive stock they were handling. At least twelve dozen of those plushies were made, each with hoof-stitched precision; the likeness between each one was almost too perfect for it to be Pinkie’s own mastery. Not to mention, Pinkie didn’t sew.

“What, these?” Pinkie took a step back, revealing the stock.

“Yes, Pinkie, those,” a brow was raised.

“Oh, Fluttershy is helping me, help you! Isn’t it great? Come on out Fluttershy!” The party pony turned salesmare waved her hooves in the air, nearly dragging Fluttershy from her cover.

“Oh . . . um, hi, everypony.”

The sudden roar that’d been hushed by Twilight’s entry was suddenly reignited as attention turned toward the pegasi. "I WANT A PLUSHIE OF HER!"

Fluttershy ducked.

“Ugh, Pinkie, can we talk?” She waved toward the mare. It took a second for her to get the message.

“OoooOoooOoooOh, I see what you’re saying. FLUTTERSHY, TAKE OVER!” Pinkie Pie hauled Fluttershy onto the stage, patting her shoulders as if an antique.

“What? Why me? I-I don’t know what to do. . .”

“Talk to them! It’s easy!” Pinkie Pie threw a doll into the crowd as its equivalence in bits came right back into her hoof.

“Um . . . okay, if you say so.”

“So, how’s it going?” Pinkie Pie cooed, near grinning as she did. Unamused, Twilight returned her attention to the crowd chanting her name, frightening Fluttershy to a standstill.

“Mind explaining what exactly is going on here?” She huffed.

“Merchandising, Twilight, Merchandising,” She wrapped a hoof around her friend, waving the other toward an invisible horizon.

“Merchandising? We don’t need merchandising, Pinkie.”

“Well, of course we do! You’re going to need a lot of funds if you plan to . . .” Pinkie Pie stood back for dramatic effect, standing on her hind legs to appear intimidating, “RULE EQUESTRIA!”

“Pinkie Pie! I don’t plan on ruling Equestria!”

“Of course not!” The pink puff bounced back to her usual stance before making an exaggerated claim, “NoT yEt At LeAsT.”

“Oh, please, Pinkie; why would I need to conquer my home?”

“Good point! Why would you need to conquer your home?” Pinkie giggled, adding more wood to the fire.

“I don’t. Now, if you’d please move your business somewhere else, or cease it entirely, that’d be great.”

“Okidokiloki! FLUTTERSHY!”

“Nyaah!” Fluttershy clung onto the boxes as she near fell off.

“WRAP IT UP! ANYPONY WHO FOLLOWS GETS A FREE PRINCESS!!!”

And within minutes, the commotion had evacuated, leaving behind old fliers and a multitude of hoofprints from where the customers had been.

“Ugh, glad that’s over. At least now I can see my house,” Twilight trotted forth, hoping to wipe the idea of “merchandising” and “world domination” from her mind before supper.