Twilight had expected far more. More arguments, more shouting, calls to order after crowds of ponies all tried to make their cases, to argue for the couple.
She wasn’t sure if she liked the calm and quiet ceremony more. The judge presiding over the affair had let the couple use a small conference room instead of one of the bigger courtrooms, and Twilight’s aide and guards kept the press and public out. She wasn’t exactly happy, knowing that keeping the world away from this would bite her in the flank later.
Twilight sat opposite to Rarity. She stared at her perfect white coat and perfect mane at odds with the tired circles under her eyes. Twilight knew she looked similar, maybe a touch more frazzled.
Rarity looked to the judge who sat at the end of the table. The mare looked similar to an aide Twilight inherited from Celestia, with an off-white coat and a thick, dark mane tied back into a bun. Twilight wasn’t sure if they were related, but the somewhat familiar face smoothed over some of the aches and tension in her chest. They didn’t go away completely. She still found it difficult to breathe.
“Everything looks to be in order,” said the judge, her voice clipped and professional. “Both parties have agreed to a fair level of financial recompense. Rarity, sic, will retain a percentage of the former couple’s collective funds in line with her earnings from her businesses—”
Twilight barely paid attention. She knew everything in the forms and declarations by heart. Even if she wasn’t so obsessive, a trait she had actually taken pride in over the years, she would have remembered most of it. Rarity would keep her properties. Any finances they pooled would be split to reflect her earnings. Any other possessions they owned were already divided between them, aside from any furniture. Technically half of that wasn’t either of theirs, being part of the palace’s decor for generations.
Rarity’s face gradually turned to a frown, and she turned away from the judge as she spoke, down to the desk in front of her. Twilight continued staring, longing to reach out, to brush her mane aside and touch her cheek.
“—Citing lack of trust between both parties and ‘unfulfilled promises’—”
The imagined reconciliation was broken by Rarity’s glower when she looked up. Twilight—the girl who who ruled a nation, stared down gods, who ascended to near divinity herself—shrank back in her seat. Something twitched in Rarity’s lips, and her expression softened a moment later.
It very much didn’t feel fair to Twilight. To think a small seed of doubt turned into paranoia and fretting over who she was to the love of her life. But to Rarity, it was all a slap in the face, spitting on all she sacrificed...
“—with both parties officially parting,” The judge finished off, then looked up. She glanced between Twilight and Rarity. With a small cough, she asked, “Are there any questions or objections to any of what I have covered?”
Twilight inhaled, but Rarity answered first. “None at all, your honour.”
Twilight swallowed down her words, and nodded. “None, your honour,” she answered.
“Very well,” said the judge, “then I officially declare you separated. You’ll receive written copies of the declaration soon enough, though I suspect it won’t be entirely necessary…” She trailed off and smiled thinly at the former spouses. She tucked her paperwork into a binder, and hooked that under one of her forelegs. “Your Majesty, Ms. Rarity,” she said, bowing to one and nodding to the other, then she vacated the room.
Twilight continued to stare at Rarity, who now stared back. Her mouth felt like cotton and her tongue stuck to her lips as she licked them. Her voice caught in her throat as she tried to talk, and all she managed was a quiet and unregally squeaky, “I’m sorry.”
Rarity sighed and broke the stare. “You don’t need to apologise,” was all she said before she stood up and left the room, leaving Twilight truly alone.
“Announcing, the arrival of Her Majesty Princess Twilight,” declared the magically enhanced, booming voice of the usher. It carried over the guests in the extravagantly decorated ballroom, and many of them turned their heads as Twilight entered through the tall double doors. A pair of royal guards flanked her entrance.
She didn’t quite fit her dress anymore. Her legs were too long, her barrel too broad, and her wings strained some of the stitching in the sparkling teal outfit. Some of the seams had popped only a few hours before, but she managed to fix it after some panicking. It was patchy, but it was just about hidden and hopefully would go unnoticed.
A lot of the heads turned back to each other, and the conspiratorial mutterings of a high class party began again. They probably noticed the hasty fixes. And the age of the dress.
Twilight swallowed, put on her best royal smile, and strode through the ballroom with purpose. That purpose was punch, or some of the hors d'oeuvres. Maybe she could find some professors from the city academies to chat up.
A well-dressed waiter crossed her path with tall flutes filled with something very bubbly. Without pause, Twilight delicately snatched one of the drinks in her magic and downed it in one swift motion. Now no one would question why her breath smelled of alcohol, though the strong scent of wine might stand out as odd.
She deposited the empty glass onto another passing waiter’s tray and grabbed a fresh glass, this one managing to survive not being guzzled down in seconds. Instead she sipped at it and actually registered the sweet, acidic taste. Twilight suppressed a grimace, and decided she still hadn’t acquired the taste, but appearances were important.
It didn’t take her long to find a group of ponies to talk to. Socialites and those with lofty aims all flocked to talk to her, and tonight was no different. She made small talk, commenting on the weather—”The weather patrol did a wonderful job tonight, didn’t they?”—foreign politics—”I did hear about that skirmish on the Wingbardian border. It’s a tragedy, really.”—and taking part in so many other inconsequential topics and discussions. The audience she accrued flowed and changed with the subject of conversation, and she barely noticed the myriad of different faces that went by. When she did, she faintly recognised them all, some she even recalled the names of, but they all blurred together.
The fuzz of the night came to a very sudden halt when a particular set of gleaming blue eyes appeared through the crowd. The clockwork motions of nodding and sipping one after the other clashed, and Twilight dribbled a splash of champagne down her chin and onto the floor as she caught Rarity’s gaze.
Blinking, Twilight stole a handkerchief from one of the nearby stallions to dab at her chin and the front of her dress. She ignored the delightful squeal he made when she tossed it over her shoulder and pushed her way into another circle of conversation. There was a brief grumble and muttering from her new immediate neighbours, but recognition of who she was stole away their protests.
“Rarity?” she asked, interrupting the conversation. Everypony around her went quiet, turning their attention to Twilight. She cleared her throat and straightened herself up, ignoring the warmth growing in her cheeks.
Rarity, immaculately dressed, raised her eyebrows and scooted back a step. She tugged on something, and that’s when Twilight noticed her hoof was wrapped around a stallion’s leg. He blinked from behind a pair of broad lensed glasses, and glanced back to Rarity. She seemed to loosen her grip, and took another half step back before he spoke.
“Ah, you two are acquainted?” he asked with a sly smirk. Rarity stopped where she stood and straightened up. A little twitch of her eyes and lips briefly caught Twilight’s attention. She was suppressing a pout meant for him, Twilight was sure.
“Yes,” Twilight answered. “We were, ah…” She trailed off, looking back at Rarity.
“You know we used to be married, Mint,” Rarity said in Twilight’s silence.
The stallion chuckled and nodded. “Yes, yes, who couldn’t forget you were the Princess Consort.”
Rarity stiffened up, then gave her head a little shake. In the process she replaced the tiny hint of a frown she wore with a tight, perfect smile. It didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Twilight, darling,” she said, and Twilight’s legs tingled, “I wasn’t expecting you here. How have you been?”
Twilight thought the surprise a little odd, but she didn’t push the issue. Her mouth felt like cotton, and she licked her lips while entirely forgetting her drink.
“I’ve been… Good,” she answered, fighting to keep her voice level. “What about you, how have you been? How are your businesses?” Twilight wanted to curse at herself.
Rarity licked her lips now, and there was a subtle shift in her jaw, a hint at a remark that she choked back. Twilight now noticed the bags under her eyes, having barely changed since last they met. “I’ve been good,” Rarity said back. “Business has been… A little underwhelming this past season or two, but I’m keeping afloat. It is what it is, I suppose.” She then looked to the stallion. “Mint, you didn’t say Twilight would be here.” Her voice was much flatter, letting the annoyance ring through.
“Why wouldn’t you know I would be here?” Twilight asked before he could answer. “I thought everyone invited knew I was coming.”
Mint chuckled again, and gestured to Rarity. “Ah, she was my plus one,” he explained, and Twilight winced as she realised Rarity wasn’t invited by the hosts directly. “Speaking of, did you bring anyone with you?”
Twilight swallowed, glancing back to Rarity. “No,” she said truthfully. “I came alone, or as alone as I can anyway,” she added, referencing her guards. She glanced over her shoulder for a brief moment and spotted one set of gleaming gold armour at the edge of the room.
“What a shame,” said Mint. “I was hoping to see who you’d bring tonight. It’s a pity, but I suppose we can’t expect everyone to move on so quickly.” Rarity shot him a brief scowl, which he either ignored or didn’t notice in the first place. “I’ll leave you two to catch up and grab my dear Rarity a quick drink, shall I?”
Twilight clenched her jaw as he smirked at her before turning to chase down a passing waiter.
“So…” Twilight started, shifting her gaze back to Rarity. “He’s your date?”
“Not after tonight he isn’t,” Rarity replied snappishly.
“Sorry.”
Rarity sighed. “You have nothing to apologise for. He’s just an ass.”
The rest of the circle around Rarity and Twilight glanced at each other, and began muttering. Rarity smiled with amusement, and this time it did reach her eyes. Twilight relaxed, then gestured with her head to one side of the ballroom. Rarity’s expression sobered, but she nodded and let Twilight lead the way. They moved through the throng of ponies, and eventually exited through a set of large doors to a balcony.
Fewer ponies were out here. The frost that built up in in the air before Twilight’s nose gave her the reason why. It gave the two of them enough privacy, Twilight decided.
“I can’t believe you still have that old thing,” Rarity said, her voice pitched lower now they were away from the bulk of the noise. “It barely fits on you, and—” She glanced over Twilight’s side. “—it looks like you’ve fixed it yourself, no offense.”
“That’s because I did,” said Twilight. “Some taken.” Not that Twilight expected her sewing to compare to Rarity’s hoofwork.
Rarity nodded. “Well, I certainly hope the rest of your wardrobe fits better.”
The two stood in silence for a few moments. Rarity looked over the edge of the balcony, and Twilight followed her gaze to the glittering streets of Canterlot below. Twilight imagined the vibrant nightlife, of other upper class parties, of the clubs towards the outer edges of the city. She wondered if there was anypony else that felt as awkward as she did right now.
“How are the others?” Twilight asked, breaking the silence.
Rarity huffed. “You could always ask them yourself.”
Twilight frowned, and she hoped the night hid it. “Rarity, that’s not—”
“They all wonder what’s happened to you, you know,” Rarity continued, talking over Twilight. “You used to visit regularly, and invite the rest of them over. Now they’re half convinced you forgot Ponyville even exists at all.”
Silence followed, and Twilight shivered, as much from the cool night air as the icy fire emanating from the mare beside her. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“At least that is actually your fault,” Rarity said bitterly. “And yet it feels like they’re judging me some of the time, Rainbow Dash especially. She thinks I gave up on you because I was being selfish.” She harrumphed. “Selfish, me of all ponies.”
Twilight couldn’t think of anything to say. She swallowed, and muttered, “I’m sorry.”
“And my businesses… I had to take out a new mortgage on the Carousel Boutique to keep things afloat. Fewer ponies buy from me or commission me since we—since our—” Rarity shook her head. “The ‘ex-Royal Consort’ doesn’t really have the same allure to it. I thought that would make me feel more gratified in my work, but this is undue judgement.”
Twilight looked up at the crescent moon in the sky, on the path she had set for it earlier that evening. “I’m sorry,” she said again, her voice creaking, and she turned back to Rarity.
“Oh will you stop bloody apologising,” Rarity snapped. “Half of everything out of your mouth has been—” Rarity was shut up as Twilight leaned in and kissed her. With her eyes closed tight, she couldn’t see the unicorn’s reaction, but after a few moments Rarity shoved at Twilight’s shoulder and broke the kiss. Twilight, cheeks flushed and guilt in her heart, leaned back.
Rarity stared up at her, and a range of expressions crossed her face. Her brow knitted in anger, her own cheeks red, visible through her pale coat, and her mouth slack and open. Twilight prepared for the lashing she just interrupted to resume with vigour, and was surprised when Rarity spoke.
“You’ve been drinking,” was all she said.
Twilight blinked, and glanced inside. She spotted Mint with two drinks held aloft in a silvery glow, looking lost. “It is a party,” she explained flatly.
“I can taste the wine we were saving for our tenth, Twilight.” Rarity settled on an expression that Twilight read as judgemental. “That technically wasn’t yours to open.”
Twilight bit her lip, and looked back to Rarity. “Sorry.”
Rarity puffed up, then she shut her eyes tight. She brought a hoof to her chest, breathed in deeply, and exhaled deeply. “It’s… nothing to worry about,” she said, opening her eyes. “If I had it, I’d have drunk it months ago.”
Twilight smirked for a moment. “I still have some left,” she said. “I can give you the rest. It is both of ours, after all.”
Rarity snorted. “I’m not so sure I want to set hoof in the palace.”
Twilight shied back, and looked back out over Canterlot, and beyond it. She squinted, trying to pick out the lights of a small town on the horizon. “I should visit to Ponyville again...” Between the light pollution and difference in terrain, she couldn’t spot the town from where she stood. “I’m just scared of what I’ll feel when I get there, of how the others might react…”
Rarity blinked. “Oh Twilight, darling...”
“I don’t blame you for that,” Twilight said back. “It is because of you, sure, but it’s not your fault. It’s mine.” She looked toward Rarity again. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the soft frown on Rarity’s face, the lines in her forehead. She kept herself from laughing at a comment Rarity made about worry lines in the past. “Can we try again?”
“Try what again?” Rarity asked. “If you mean our marriage, I think we’re a little late for that.”
Twilight shook her head. “Just being friends,” Twilight responded. “I want you back in my life, and the others too. It doesn’t need to be more than that.”
Rarity thought for a few moments, then nodded. “I think we can do that.” She smiled, and the icy air around Twilight felt a little warmer.
