Salvation

by Cold in Gardez

Rating: mature
Tags: Rarity, Romance, Sex, Main 6, Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash
Length: 152270

Love is the greatest treasure

In the magical land of Equestria, love is the most valued currency. More than bits, more than gold, more than fame, love is what makes ponies rich.

Or, in its absence, poor.

Rainbow Dash and Rarity have nothing in common except loss. One ignores her own pains, while the other jealously guards them. But now, back in Ponyville with old friends, their masks are wearing thin. The lies they tell each other and themselves cannot hold.

Love completes us, but love is also the knife that wounds us.

Published 2012-09-17 00:54:03 UTC
Last updated 2016-02-16 00:13:04 UTC

Reminiscent

Through her train car's window, Rainbow Dash watched the bright autumn landscape speeding by in a riot of reds, yellows and oranges. Sugar maples the color of ripe watermelons dotted the woods, competing with the still-green oaks and evergreen pines for her attention. In a few more weeks they would begin to brown, and it would be time for the Running of the Leaves Festival. She sighed quietly, lost in the memories the thought provoked. Had it really been nine full years since that race?

She was still reminiscing when the train pulled into the Ponyville station, announcing itself with a cheerful blast of its horn. Ponies crowded onto the platform to welcome the new arrivals, and within minutes the train had emptied. Dash waited for the rush to subside and then stepped outside.

No one was waiting for Rainbow Dash, but then, it would have surprised her if anypony had. She hadn't told anypony her plans except Rarity, and the unicorn wasn't due back in Ponyville until tomorrow. A few ponies, mostly younger pegasi, recognized her and pointed or waved. She put on a smile and waved back. Rainbow Dash the Wonderbolt had to be polite to her fans.

So, Ponyville. She took a deep breath and looked around. Not much had changed in the year or so since her last visit. Maybe a few more ponies filled the street, maybe a few more buildings on the edge of town, where farmland once stood. On a hill in the distance, she could see the bright red barn that was Sweet Apple Acre's trademark, and around it vast orchards of apple trees now yellowing with autumn's touch.

It was time to meet some old friends. She hopped off the platform and trotted down the crowded street.

* * *

A bell rang as she pushed open the door to Sugarcube Corner, surprising her with its silver tinkle. Had that always been there? She had some very clear memories of sneaking into this shop in the past, and there had never been a bell to give her away. She looked up at it curiously, then shrugged and stepped into the bakery. As always, the smell of baking bread and frosting assaulted her, setting her mouth watering with anticipation. Perhaps a snack wouldn't be out of the question.

“Just a moment!” a male voice called from inside the kitchen. True to his word, a moment later Mr. Cake appeared behind the counter. As soon as he spied her, his face broke into a grin.

“Well, if it isn't Rainbow Dash! How you been, kiddo?” He stepped around the counter and held out a hoof. She shook it automatically—a habit gained from a hundred shows and appearances with the Bolts. He looked the same as she remembered; perhaps a bit older, but then, having twins could do that to a stallion. She wondered absently where Carrot and Pound were.

“Hey, Mr. Cake,” she said. “Great, now that summer's over. Busiest time of the year for the Bolts.”

“I can imagine.” He started to say something, then stopped abruptly. When he spoke again his voice was quieter. “By the way, I'm sorry about what happened. We all are.”

She gave him a small nod. The first thousand times ponies had told her they were sorry for what happened, sorry for her loss, sorry for whatever, she'd gotten choked up. Now it barely warranted an emotional response. The words were sincere, she knew, but the well of her appreciation had run dry long ago.

“Thank you.” She paused to clear her throat. The air must have been dryer in Ponyville than Fillydelphia. “Is Pinkie here? I was hoping to say 'hi' and see—”

“Dashie!” There was a pink blur, and somehow Rainbow Dash found herself on the floor, wrapped in a giggling mass of mane and earth pony. It was good to see that Pinkie Pie hadn't lost any of her enthusiasm or joy. Also, she was fairly sure her ribs were now bruised.

“Pinkie,” she wheezed. “Little air?”

“Oh, sorry!” Pinkie sat back on her haunches, looking down at Dash with the world's largest grin. “I was just so excited when I heard my name! And then I realized it was you—” she reached out and poked Dash in the chest—“I just couldn't help myself! It's been ages since you were here!”

“I was here last year, Pinkie.” Still, Dash couldn't help the smile that broke out on her face. Some friends were impossible to not be happy around.

“I know! A whole year!” Pinkie gasped. “Do you know what this means?”

Dash was pretty sure she did. “A par—”

“A party!” Pinkie continued, rolling right over Dash's answer. “A Welcome-Back-To-Ponyville-Rainbow-Dash Party!”

Now it was Dash's turn to grin. “Actually, Pinkie, that name won't work at all.”

Pinkie blinked at her. The tips of her ears wilted. “It won't? But, why?”

“Because Rarity's coming back tomorrow, too.”

A remarkable transformation overcame Pinkie Pie, one that would have shocked any pony not already accustomed to her eccentricities. Her eyes widened as the full realization settled in. Her mane somehow grew poofier. She began to inhale, and she didn't stop.

This was going to be loud, Rainbow Dash realized. Totally worth it, though.

“YIPPEE!” Pinkie's shout of joy could be heard clear across town.

* * *

It took a while, but Rainbow Dash eventually managed to extricate herself from Pinkie Pie and the Cakes (including Carrot and Pound, who had shown up and insisted on riding “auntie Dash” around the room until Mrs. Cake could finally corral them for nap time). They loaded up a sack with every kind of doughnut and pastry and cookie and honey-slathered treat she could imagine, and made her promise to return for more when those were done.

Such friends. She couldn't get the smile to leave her face.

It was a bit of a hike from the center of Ponyville to Sweet Apple Acres, but the air was crisp and pleasant against her coat. The warm sun offset the gentle bite of the wind, and for a while she simply enjoyed the rustle of leaves overhead, the crunch of dirt beneath her hooves, and the soft earthen scent of autumn.

I should have come back long ago.

The Bolts wouldn't have liked that, though. They had a schedule. They had appearances. They had fans who wanted to see The Rainbow Dash posing for pictures and signing autographs on posters and snapshots and Official Wonder Bolts Hoofball Caps, only 15 bits in the gift store, limit five per customer.

Screw the Bolts.

She winced. That was unfair – the Bolts had given her everything. Even the things she'd lost, she never would have had in the first place without them. Without them, she'd be just another weather team pegasus, plowing the skies all the year round.

A small footbridge arched over the stream separating Sweet Apple Acres property from the rest of Ponyville. She stepped onto it and paused to look over the edge at the water below. Minnows darted beneath the surface, swimming away from the shadow she cast onto the water. She crumbled up the remains of a pastry and tossed it in, and then returned to the path.

Countless apple trees extended in rows on either side. She knew they were countless because she tried counting them and gave up after fifty-seven. Counting trees was boring.

Eventually, the countless rows ended, and she stepped into the wide clearing surrounding the Apple Family farm. The same old arched gate, always open, welcomed visitors to the one part of Ponyville that never changed. As the Acres were, so would the Acres always be; only the ponies changed.

Dash could hear ponies at work in the barn. She looked between it and the house for a few seconds, then shrugged and trotted toward the barn. Knowing Applejack and her brother, they would still be hard at work this early in the day, carrying out the dozens of chores that, to Rainbow Dash, seemed like far more effort than they were worth.

But then, Rainbow Dash didn't have a barn. Maybe the Apples were on to something.

“Hello?” She stuck her head into the open doorway. Slanting rays of light pierced the darkness of the barn from windows above, bouncing from a million motes of dust floating in the still, hot air. “Anypony home?”

There was a loud *thunk*, as of something large and metal being set down on the wood floor, followed by heavy hoofsteps that could only belong to one pony. Sure enough, within moments Big Macintosh trotted out from behind a stack of barrels (filled, she assumed, with apples). He stopped as soon as he saw her, grinned, and trotted to the entrance.

“Well, ah'll be. Hello Rainbow Dash.” He looked no different than the last time she had seen him – as big as any three of her friends put together. His mane was matted with sweat, and his normally bright red coat was dusted with tiny bits of hay and dirt. The wages of hard work, she could only assume, as hard work was something she generally tried to avoid. It was a pegasus tradition.

Still, she didn't mind the dirt, and she stepped forward to give him a quick hug. He returned it with the same gentleness that always managed to surprise her.

“Hey man, long time. How you been?”

“Eyyup. Good, thanks.” He looked it. Big Macintosh had always been rather laid back for a pony. Laconic, as Rainbow Dash's Word-a-Day calendar might have said. But now he seemed truly happy, somehow so satisfied with life that he radiated contentment.

Married life must be working out for him, she mused.

“One sec, let me get Applejack,” he said. He took a breath, then yelled. “Hey, Applejack! Yer friend's here!”

Applejack's voice returned from outside the barn, a few seconds later: “Tell Pinkie ah'm busy!”

“It ain't Pinkie!”

“Tell Twilight...” The voice trailed off. There was a pause. Eventually, they heard footsteps approaching from the far side of the barn's interior, and a perplexed-looking Applejack poked her head around the same pile of barrels Big Macintosh had emerged from.

“Rainbow Dash?” Applejack's face broke into a wide grin as she trotted forward. “Why, what a surprise! When did you get to Ponyville?” She leaned forward to give Dash a hug that was much, much firmer than her brother's.

“Heh, good to see you too, AJ.” She gave Applejack a friendly chuck on the shoulder as soon as she was free. “Just got in. Pinkie's already planning the party.”

Applejack had an odd look on her face. Very different from the surprised grin she had just worn. “Are you doin' okay, sug? You felt a bit tense, there.”

“Pff, me?” She made a dismissive gesture with her hoof. “I'm fine, AJ. Just training, is all. Gotta be in shape if you're gonna be a Wonder Bolt.”

Applejack didn't respond. She just looked up and down Dash's frame. If it were any other pony, Dash might've suspected they were checking her out. Fat chance with Applejack, though. She was just about the last pony that—

“Mhm. And how've you been?” Big Macintosh asked. They both started and turned to him in surprise – for such a big pony, he was very easy to forget about sometimes. “Haven't seen you in a bit. Not since the funeral.”

The funeral. She was hearing that a lot, lately. Eventually, she supposed, she would run out of friends to hear it from, and they could go back to marking the time with something more normal than funerals. Another sign, perhaps, that she should have returned to Ponyville long ago.

“Like I said, I'm doing fine.” She smiled at them. “Been doing some travel, now that the season is over. Things have been really great. Really, really great.”

One thing she liked about Applejack was that her emotions were always plain as day upon her face. You could read her like a book, and right now she looked dubious. Dash was about to make another attempt at calming their concerns when Big Macintosh spoke again.

“You know who'd love to see you again? Fluttershy. C'mon, she's in the house gettin' ready for dinner.”

* * *

Fluttershy's face lit up like the sun the moment Dash walked through the door. She barely made it another step into the room before Fluttershy had her wrapped in a hug. For a long minute they simply held each other.

I should have come back long ago.

Should have, could have. She gave the pegasus another squeeze, then stepped away, blinking back tears. “Hey Fluttershy.”

“Hello Rainbow Dash.” Fluttershy gave her a smile that, while not as large as Pinkie's, somehow conveyed a level of joy that could only be described as transcendent. “Welcome home.”

Home.

Did she even have a home anymore? The Bolts spent most of the year in the air, flying from one city to the next. Since joining the team, she'd spent more nights in hotel rooms than her place in Cloudsdale, and when she was home it was usually to collapse in bed the moment after walking in the door. Half her stuff was still sitting in boxes in the spare room, waiting to be unpacked.

She looked around the room. This was a home. Every inch of space was filled with some personal treasure, every wall covered with pictures and portraits of family. The furniture was sturdy but well worn, almost as familiar as old friends themselves. Ponies lived here.

“Thanks. It's good to be back.” Her voice was a little rougher than normal. Damn dry air. “How have you been? You're looking pretty good...” She trailed off. Fluttershy was looking a little too good. She smiled with her entire face, looking more serenely happy than Dash could ever remember. But she seemed a little heavier than usual, and her belly was definitely a bit on the swollen side...

“No way.” Dash grinned a silly grin. “Are you...”

“Yes. Almost five months, now.” She brushed her belly with a hoof. “The doctor says it's probably a pegasus.”

“Wow. That's, just... wow!” Dash reached over and gave Big Macintosh a punch on the shoulder. It was a bit like hitting a tree. “Congrats, big guy!”

“Aw, shucks.” He ducked his head. “She's doin' all the work.”

“Yeah, but... wow!” She sounded foolish, she knew. But it didn't matter. To think: Fluttershy would be the first one of her friends with a foal. Dash had always though it would be Pinkie.

“Well, why don't you two catch up for a bit,” Applejack broke in. “Big Mac and I need to get washed up.” Despite the dust covering her from a long day of work, she stopped to give Fluttershy a quick nuzzle as she passed. She whispered something Dash couldn't quite make out, and then she was dragging her brother back outside.

Dinner turned out to be roasted apples with corn-on-the-cob, pumpkin baked with butter and marshmallows, lightly seared squash garnished with fresh grass clippings, and toasted oats. Fluttershy, it seemed, had developed a talent for cooking at some point after Rainbow Dash left Ponyville.

They quickly pulled up a fourth chair for Dash, and Fluttershy set down plates laden with food. Applejack got up to whisper something in Fluttershy's ear again, and when Fluttershy returned to the table she set an extra plate of veggies in front of Dash. She had more food even than Big Macintosh.

Huh.

They made small talk, mostly focusing on Fluttershy and Big Macintosh's plans for the foal. Big Mac, predictably, was hoping for a colt. Applejack wanted a filly. Fluttershy said she'd be happy as long as it had either four or six limbs.

The traditional Apple Family whiskey was out of the question, what with Fluttershy's condition. Instead they finished dinner with a round of ciders pulled from the cellar. They were as frothy and delicious as Dash had come to love all those years ago.

By the time they finished the sun had long since set, and only a sliver of moon remained low in the sky. A few dark clouds blotted out the stars in passing, a sign, Dash knew, that the weather would soon be changing. The comfortable, balmy door of autumn was beginning to close.

“Hey, uh, it's dark outside,” she said. Best to state the obvious up front. “Too dark to walk back to town. Would it be alright if I stayed here tonight?”

Silence answered her. Applejack and Fluttershy glanced at her in surprise, then at each other. Big Macintosh just raised an eyebrow.

“Well, of course, sug,” Applejack said. Her drawl was a bit slower than usual, as though she were carefully selecting her words. “If you'd rather not fly back, there's a room upstairs you can use. Already has a bed and everything.”

Fluttershy rose to her hooves. “I'll take her,” she said to Applejack. “Come on, Dash.”

They trotted up the stairs together. Down below, Dash could hear Applejack and her brother engaged in muted conversation. Even from a floor away, Big Mac's bass seemed to shake the floorboards. Fluttershy opened the first door in the dark hallway, and Dash stepped in. Only the faint light of the moon showed her path around the bed.

Wait... “Hey, is this Grannie Smith's old room?”

Fluttershy's mane bobbed in the dark. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

“No... I mean, is it?”

Fluttershy moved, and suddenly her cheek was pressed against Dash's. Her mane smelled like wildflowers. “It's not, Dash,” Fluttershy whispered in her ear. “Four generations of the Apple Family have lived in this house, now. Someday, when I am gone, my great-grandfoals will sleep in this room. We're all just guests.”

Oh. Dash let out a shaky breath. How could Rainbow Dash, who slept in a different city every night and hadn't even unpacked half her belongings, possibly conceive of such a thing? Of such a home, shared by generation upon generation? When she didn't even have one pony to share it with?

She blinked rapidly. Her eyes threatened to water. “Hey... Fluttershy?”

“Yes?”

“What... what's it like? You know?” She reached out to lightly brush her hoof along Fluttershy's abdomen.

Fluttershy was silent for a while. When she finally spoke, it was with more conviction than Dash had ever heard in a pony's voice.

“Oh, Dash. It's wonderful.”

* * *

The bed was already made. It was almost like they expected somepony to move into the empty room at any time. Dash climbed aboard and settled down on top of the covers with a sigh.

So, Ponyville. Rarity was right – it was good to see her friends again. And tomorrow, Rarity would be back, and together they could drag Twilight out of the castle and off to wherever Pinkie was planning their party, which by now was probably well on its way to being one of the largest of the year. The Elements of Harmony Reunion Party. She chuckled quietly.

The bed was soft, and when sleep snuck up to seize her, she surrendered without protest.

* * *

“Not bad, lieutenant. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you actually practiced for that last stunt.”

Rainbow Dash looked over her shoulder with a smirk. She stood, holding her legs stiff, and angled a wing in mocking salute. “Sir, a Wonder Bolt practices for every maneuver!”

“Now I know you're lying.” Soarin reached out with a wingtip to swat her; she ducked it easily, then danced away before he could try again. “Still, good job out there.”

She shrugged. “It was a good crowd. We should come here more often.” Her eyes followed him as he disappeared behind the partition that separated the mares' changing area from the stallions'. When he emerged a few minutes later, he had ditched his flightsuit and goggles and looked for all the world like any pegasus on the street. Larger, perhaps, with toned muscles that came from hard flying, but nothing that screamed “Wonder Bolt.” She lingered on those muscles for a bit longer, and nearly missed his next question.

“Have you been to Fillydelphia before?” Soarin asked. He walked to the edge of the cloud their team had borrowed and peered over the edge at the city below. Fillydelphia stretched out for miles in all directions, a concrete and steel dream filled with hundreds of thousands of ponies. Above, a smaller cloud city mirrored the conglomeration on the ground, home to the pegasi of Fillydelphia.

She walked up beside him. Her front hooves balanced on the edge of the cloud, above the thousand foot drop to the city below. “No, never had the chance. I've only been to a few of the cities we've stopped at this season.”

“Hm.” He nodded, his gaze fixed on the city. Lights were beginning to come on as the sun neared the horizon. Its golden glow filled the western sky with fire and gave his bluish-gray coat a rosy tinge.

They were silent for a while. The aftermath of a show was a hectic thing, filled with fans and autographs and more hooves than she could shake in a lifetime. Moments like this, alone and quiet, had become precious things to her since joining the team.

“Hey,” he said. “Are you tired?”

She considered the question before answering. Her wings were a bit sore, but no more than after a normal practice session. “Nah, not really. Why?”

He gave a little shrug, then leaned forward and tipped over the edge of the cloud. His wings spread as he fell, and he soared away from her without answer.

Huh. She stared after him. Eventually, her curiosity got the better of her, and she jumped off the cloud as well.

* * *

“Well?”

He glanced over at her, a vague smile on his face. Their wingtips were just inches apart as they soared through the evening sky. “Well, what?” he asked.

She scowled. “Well, this?” she had to raise her voice over the sound of the air rushing past.

“Just a leisurely flight.” He flipped over onto his back and stretched his legs. His course didn't deviate by an inch.

“Since when do you do leisurely flights? I thought naps were more your speed!”

“It's too late for a nap.” He flipped back over and angled his wings slightly, banking around a plump cloud. She followed his lead unconsciously. “Besides, I thought you enjoyed flying.”

Dash rolled her eyes. Soarin had a gift for needling ponies, as Spitfire had assured her the day she joined the team. “I enjoy it more than you!” she countered.

“Mhm.” He beat his wings, pulling away from her as they banked around another cloud. When she completed the turn, he was dozens of yards ahead.

She caught up with him effortlessly. The wind was louder now, to the point that they'd have to scream at each other to be heard. Her wings found a nice rhythm, and she felt herself relaxing, the strains of the day melting away.

Soarin glanced over his shoulder at her. His wings beat faster, and once again she found herself in his wash.

Oh, are we racing? Her heart beat faster at the mere thought, and she zoomed forward, a wicked grin on her face. It. Is. On!

She leaned forward, her wings blurring out of sight as she picked up speed. Within seconds she caught him again. They traded positions a few more times, faster and faster, until the clouds became white streaks zipping by their sides. Soon they were flying faster than any show, so fast that the wind was like a hammer in her face. Her bones vibrated from the force of cutting through the air, and she stretched her hooves out in front of her. A cone began to form at the tips of her hooves as the air piled up, unable to escape, waiting for her to break it apart.

And just like that, Soarin was gone. She angled her wings and banked around, eventually spotting him atop a cloud near the edge of the city. Leisurely now, she flew toward him, and when she landed he gave her his trademark grin.

“Okay, okay, you're faster,” he said. “But there's more to flying than speed.”

She smirked at him. “That sounds like something a slow pony would say. What else is there?”

“Maneuverability, for one.”

“Ha! You think you're more maneuverable than me? Than The Rainbow Dash?” Her breathing had nearly slowed back to its normal pace.

“One way to find out!” He reached out with a hoof and booped her on the nose. “Tag!” With that he jumped into the air and flipped backward over the edge of the cloud, disappearing into the air below.

For a full second, Rainbow Dash stood unmoving. Stunned.

Did he just...?

Yes, he did. She stomped a hoof, then charged over the edge of the cloud in pursuit.

* * *

Rainbow Dash was not accustomed to being humiliated in flight.

In Ponyville, she had always been the best flyer. Bar none. Not even a contest. None of the other pegasi were in her league when it came to aerobatics. Even as a filly, they had whispered the words “Wonder Bolt” when watching her fly.

When she finally donned that prestigious uniform, she was still the fastest. The other Bolts were fast, sure, but speed was her thing. She became The Rainbow Dash, the fastest pegasus in Equestria, the only one in decades to master the Sonic Rainboom. Her ego, never inconsiderable, only grew as cheering crowds chanted her name at each show.

And so it was rather frustrating to be outflown in a game of tag by a pegasus nearly twice her size. Every time she used her superior speed to catch up with him, right as she was about to reach out and thwack him with her hoof, his huge wings would extend, cup the air like it was something physical to grasp, and zoom away in a completely different direction, leaving her to soar onward, her wings flapping furiously as she tried to adjust.

“Stop that!” she shouted as her latest pass missed by a hair. Soarin laughed in response, already cartwheeling through the air. He was as fluid as water.

“Are you sure you're The Rainbow Dash?” he called. “And not some imposter? She's supposed to be a good flyer!” His wings snapped down as she zoomed toward him, and he shot upwards, well above her flailing hooves.

“Stop dodging!” Alas, he wasn't taking orders from her. She missed again, and he vanished behind a small cloud. It was a gray mass seen in the dimming evening light. When she circled around, he was gone.

“Soarin?” No response. She hovered in place, scanning the sky for his light blue form. He might have been slippery, but he had to be around somewhere – he wasn't a ghost.

“Tag!” The voice came from behind her. She turned toward the cloud just in time for his hoof to break through the fluff and boop her on the nose. A moment later he exploded out the top of the cloud and soared away again.

I... what... he! Argh! Two could play at this game. She shot after him in pursuit, but waited until he flew within a few wingspans of a cloud. Instead of flying straight at him, as she had for the past several minutes, she banked her wings and turned, until the cloud was between them. Assuming he maintained his heading and speed... Yes, right there.

Rainbow Dash dove into the cloud and punched through it effortlessly. Her vision was lost in an endless whiteness, and a moment later she broke through the other side, just feet away from Soarin. He barely had time to start turning in her direction when she plowed into him at full speed. Their combined momentum sent them sailing across the sky in a ballistic arc untroubled by feathers or wings, eventually terminating when they crashed atop a large, flat mesa cloud. Twin fountains of white vapor shot out to either side as they skidded across the cloud's surface, still wrapped around each other.

“Ha!” Dash rose to her hooves a bit shakily. She looked down at Soarin, who groaned quietly as he rubbed his head with a hoof. “HA! Tag! Now you're it!” She rapped his snout with her hoof to emphasize each word.

He knocked her hoof away and raised an eyebrow. “So, that's how you want to play, is it?”

Uh-oh. She leaned back and started to step away when he moved. His wings flexed to push him away from the cloud, and he tugged her leg to the side, spinning her around effortlessly. She was still trying to figure out what was going on when he slammed her face down onto the cloud with one of her forelegs somehow bent behind her.

“Didn't have any brothers, did you?” He chuckled in her ear. “Never had to learn how to wrestle?” His chest, slick with sweat from their competition, pressed against her back and trapped her against the cloud.

She took a quick breath. Her lungs burned, her heart felt like it was about to burst from her chest, and various other sensations were toying with the lower half of her body. Sensations that insisted being trapped like this was a good thing. Powerful sensations, but not quite enough to overcome her competitive drive.

“Yeah, but you're forgetting something,” she said. It was difficult to talk with his weight on her like this. “I was a weather pony, once.”

The cloud beneath her was solid to pegasi, unlike other ponies who would plunge through it like the water vapor it was (most likely screaming all the way). Weather ponies, however, learned to manipulate the clouds, bending them this way or that, sometimes creating them out of thin air, other times dissolving them with a kick. It was the same magic as all pegasi were born with but honed to an expert edge.

And Rainbow Dash was one of the best weather ponies. With a thought, the cloud beneath her dissolved into mist, and she fell into the gap it left, kicking out with her now-free legs to spin in Soarin's grip. Before he could react, she had freed herself and was clinging to his back, her forelegs wrapped around his shoulders and neck in a vice-like grip.

“Oh, that's cute,” he said, sounding a bit strained as her forelegs squeezed his neck. Unfortunately, unlike him, she was was not large enough to pin her opponent to the cloud. He stood, easily lifting both their weights, then rolled onto his back, trapping her again.

Again! Dammit! Dash wiggled from beneath him and nearly escaped off the edge of the cloud when he grabbed her around the waist. She flapped her wings, dragging them a few feet toward the edge, and then he had her pinned again. Clearly, wrestling was a skill she should have invested some time in.

She tried reasoning with him. “Leggo!”

“Ha! Make me!”

Fine! She elbowed him in the snout, then used the brief moment when his grip relaxed to crane her neck around and lock her teeth on his mane. A vicious tug drew an angry growl from his throat and sent them both rolling across the cloud—

—and suddenly they were in freefall. The edge of the cloud receded into the sky high above as they plummeted toward the ground. Her left wing snapped open reflexively, but her right wing was crushed against Soarin's chest.

Soarin had the same reaction. His wings both opened, and their fall became a glide. With his mane still snagged in her teeth and his head twisted around as a result, their flight was an erratic experience.

Oh ho, what's this? One of his wings was right in front of her. She reached out with her free hoof and snagged it with her ankle. Their glide became a fall again.

“Gah, let go!” She could barely hear him over the rush of the air.

She spat out his mane to talk. “Make me!”

“We're falling!”

Yes, that was certainly the case. She tried to estimate how far the ground was as they tumbled through space. About two thousand feet, she guessed. Plenty of time.

“You first!” she shouted back.

A pause. She could practically hear the wheels in his head turning. “No, you first!”

“You!” Fifteen hundred feet, now.

She felt him sigh. “This is silly,” he shouted. “We'll both let go on three, okay?”

It wasn't okay, but the ground was starting to get uncomfortably close. “Fine. One.”

“Two.” She saw his lips move, but couldn't hear him over the rush of air.

“Three!” They let go and pushed away simultaneously, their wings snapping open to arrest their fall. Neither said a word as they glided through the sky, landing on a cloud as the last rays of the sun vanished beneath the horizon.

They stood a few feet apart, both panting, their wings still flared. Dash's body shook with the aftereffects of adrenaline, the rush of falling, and of course the wrestling match. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

And she was really, really turned on.

Soarin stared at her, his sides heaving as he tried to catch his breath. A thin trickle of blood ran down his snout. She remembered elbowing him and felt bad for a moment. Then she remembered being pinned to the cloud, his body crushing hers, and the feeling went away.

“So, you hate losing, huh?” he asked. He took a step toward her. A certain feral light filled his eyes, visible even in the twilight.

“Heh. Yeah, you could say that.” She stepped to the side, circling him. “Sorry about your nose.”

“It happens.” He took another step forward, then another and another, until he was just inches away. Sweat glistened on his coat, and she could see his whole body vibrating with the same excitement she felt. He lifted a hoof toward her, then paused suddenly, an uncertain look on his face.

Stallions – damn chickens, every one of them. She closed the distance between them and pressed her mouth against his, her tongue thrusting aggressively past his lips and teeth. For a moment he was too stunned to respond.

Fortunately, it was only for a moment. He pushed forward with enough strength to shove her onto her haunches, and his tongue came alive against hers. The kiss became a form of combat, each of them striving to wrestle the other's tongue into submission. She felt his hoof reach up to her mane and grasp a clump of hair, twisting until it hurt.

Yup, definitely turned on now.

She moaned quietly, the sound lost between their mouths. In the back of her mind, the part of Rainbow Dash that remained rational considered simply surrendering to his lead, letting him twist and pull and bite her until she was a shivering wreck, begging him to take her. She imagined him pinning her to the cloud like he had before, and her helpless to resist, able only to cry out in pleasure as he mounted her.

The thought had a certain appeal. A lot of appeal, actually – she felt herself growing wetter just envisioning it. Unfortunately, though, it wasn't her style.

She kicked out with her leg, catching his knee with just enough force to fold it and send him down to the cloud. He yelped and rolled onto his back, but before he could respond she was on top of him, her legs planted on either side of his body and her mouth fastened back against his. This time the kiss lasted nearly a minute before they broke for air.

“Okay, first off,” he said, panting. His chest heaved beneath hers, and she found she rather enjoyed the sensation. “We don't kick other ponies, Rainbow Dash.”

“Meh.” She shrugged. The shoulds and should-nots of polite society had never troubled her too much. Besides, he didn't seem upset. She ground her hips against his.

No, he certainly didn't feel upset. She grinned at his reaction.

“Second,” he continued after a brief pause. “I like to be on top.”

“Really?” She could feel his cock straining against his belly. She rubbed herself against it for a leisurely moment, enjoying the feel of the smooth shaft against her crotch. “That's funny. I like to be on top, too.”

“Then we seem to have a problem.”

“No, you seem to have a problem,” she corrected him. “I'm doing just fine.” To emphasize her point, she leaned down and kissed him again. Kissing was better than talking.

They stayed unmoving for a while, him lying on his back, her perched atop him, both joined at the lips. She could feel him twitching beneath her, and she imagined the desperate passions playing out in his mind. Eager to have her, to take her. She couldn't help but grin at the thought. Around them, it was getting difficult to see in the gathering darkness; already color had fled the world, leaving mute gray shapes where ponies had been before.

The long kiss finally broke. “So, it's like that?” he asked.

“Mhm.”

“Okay. Just remember, you wanted it this way.” His body tensed beneath her, all the warning she had before he exploded upward, his wings shoving back against the cloud with enough strength to lift them both into the air. His legs caught hers and twisted faster than she could react, and when they hit the cloud an instant later he easily shoved her face-down into the soft, cottony fluff.

Hey, I've been here before. How did she escape last time? Oh, right – she swung a leg around, trying to smack him in the snout. He was better prepared this time and caught the blow with his shoulder. Well, shoot.

His bulk crushed her against the cloud, helpless. Her body shook as he chuckled, and he leaned his head down next to her ear to whisper. “Not so smug now, hm? Anything to say for—WHOA!” He jerked his head back just in time to avoid her teeth, which clacked together loudly on empty air. She craned her head around and snapped at him again, and again just barely missed. She was about to try a third time when his hoof pressed against her neck and shoved her head into the cloud.

She took stock. Okay, my wings are trapped. He weighs twice as much as me and has me pinned down. I can't hit him or bite him. I think he wins this round.

Of course, winning was a relative term. She flicked her tail up at him, brushing it against his shaft. The catch of breath and shiver it provoked from him were priceless. Maybe we can both win.

The hoof against her neck relaxed and lifted away, replaced a moment later by his lips. He nibbled gently at her neck, then fastened his teeth around her ear with a bit more pressure than was strictly necessary, pulling a long, low moan from her throat. His other hoof traced its way lightly down her side, across her belly and between her legs. When it finally brushed against her lips, she thought for a moment the sun had somehow miraculously risen anew.

She ground herself against his hoof. All thoughts of fighting him, of flipping him onto his back and mounting him, fled from her mind. This, this right here, this was good enough. Besides, he beat her fair and square – next time she would come out on top.

He tormented her with his hoof, sliding it up and down her lips, then pressing against that wonderful spot right at the top where they met. Another wave of pleasure wracked her body, and she wanted more.

She licked her lips. “Soarin?”

He paused, his hoof ceasing its tiny motions. “Yes?”

She threw down the gauntlet. “Are you going to tease me or fuck me?”

For a long second, he simply froze. Even his breathing, formerly hot and heavy in her ears, ceased. It was like being held by a statue – a hot, desperately aroused statue stuck in the process of bringing her to a climax, but a statue nevertheless.

When at last he moved, it was slow and deliberate. He planted his rear hooves on either side of her hips, and the head of his cock pressed between her legs. She crouched as best she could to receive him, her tail angled up and away to remove the last barrier between them.

He thrust, and as he penetrated her, his teeth bit down on the flesh where her neck and shoulder met. Not a little nip like his play before – a real, honest-to-Celestia bite that was going to leave a mark for days. The dual sensations of pain and utter pleasure drew a wail from her throat, slowly dying away as her breath escaped into the night.

When she recovered her senses, he was fully buried inside her. He had stopped biting her, and instead was showering her neck and the side of her face with tiny kisses, almost as if in apology. She choked back a laugh and wriggled her hips.

He took the hint. Still peppering her with kisses, he slowly pulled out until only the tip of his shaft was left in her, followed by a quick thrust that shook her whole body. He set an even pace, following the cues her body gave him, eliciting tiny, girlish gasps that would have appalled her, had she been thinking straight. She squeezed her eyes shut as the pressure built inside her, increasing with each stroke. The pressure became too much to resist, and a wave of pleasure burst within her like a thunderstorm sweeping across the plains, leaving all in its path battered and sodden and still.

He didn't last much longer. Egged on by the frantic spasms in her pelvis, he thrust one last time, harder and deeper and stronger than ever before. She felt another burst of heat deep within her, and then they both lay gasping and panting on the cloud.

She opened her eyes to see his face, just inches from hers. They stared at each other for a while, almost invisible in the darkness, with only the moon to light their forms. His mouth moved, and she edged closer to hear—

* * *

Rainbow Dash woke with a gasp and shot upright on the bed. A faint silver glow from the moon through the window cast shadowed squares on the quilted bed top. The moon had barely moved outside – she'd slept for less than an hour, she guessed.

She felt cold, and realized she was drenched in sweat. Sweat and other things. She snarled in frustration and jumped off the bed to tear the soaked covers away. Hopefully the Apples wouldn't mind the sheets, nor would they ask any questions. Shivers set in as she climbed back into the bed.

Rarity gets back tomorrow. We'll get everypony together and have a party. It will be just like old times. She repeated the sentences over and over in her mind until they became a mantra, and eventually the shivering subsided as the sweat on her coat dried. Her heart slowed, her breathing relaxed, and sleep crept up on her again.

There were no such things as ghosts, Twilight Sparkle would have said.

But ponies could be haunted nonetheless.

The Gang's All Here

Ah, trains. Is there a more glamorous method of travel?

Rarity hummed quietly in her seat as she inspected her hooves. They were still polished from her last visit to Pamper!, Fillydelphia's trendiest spa and midtown resort, but their edges had already begun to dull from the wear of walking along the city's cobblestoned roads. She gave them a small frown, then shrugged. No one in Ponyville would care – if they noticed at all.

Outside, also unnoticed, the riotous forest sped by in a kaleidoscope of autumn hues. Rarity had pulled the window shades down as soon as she found her seat.

Her morning began with the usual awkward elisions that followed an evening of casual sex. Bright Mark had been a complete gentlepony, of course, even letting her use the shower first, but there was no disguising the hurry with which she retreated home. Important business, she'd said. Catching a train and all. It was even true.

She had not promised him another date. Well, technically she had. But she hadn't meant it, and she was fairly sure he understood it was just politeness speaking. One of those little social lies ponies used to lubricate their interactions.

Yes, you know all about lying, don't you?

Rarity let out a breath and turned back to her magazine. It included a photo shoot of her summer dress line, and she spent nearly an hour pouring over the pictures, flipping back and forth between the pages to see how the models looked wearing her art. They were fabulous, of course; it was their job, and they were as good at it as she was with hers. Still, she scribbled a few critical notes in the margins, little ideas to improve her wares for the next season.

Bright Mark was a good pony. He liked you. Maybe it's time you stop and think about what you really want in life.

She snorted at the thought. Her, settle? No, Rarity never settled. She set goals, and then she sped toward them like an arrow. Some goals just took more time than others.

The pitch of the engine changed, and a few minutes later the train's whistle shrieked its warning to the ponies waiting at the station outside. She waited for the train to stop, then began gathering her luggage.

She'd packed light. Only five suitcases this time.

* * *

Ponyville had grown while Rarity was gone. New homes and business sprouted on every street, and more ponies than she had ever seen filled its streets.

It was still just a shadow of Fillydelphia, but undeniably more urbane than the Ponyville she left. She could almost imagine herself living here again. It would be slower than the big city, but friendlier, with fewer cares and more friends. It would be like old times...

She shook her head. There would be time to daydream later, after she dropped off this luggage. As gifted as she was with magic, it was still a lot of dresses and accessories and shoes and makeup to carry around.

Carousel Studios was where she had left it, near the center of town. Now it was part of a line of buildings, all fancifully built to advertise their wares: a massive birdhouse that sold, she imagined, regular-sized birdhouses; a small greenhouse bursting with brilliant flowers abutted a terraced garden filled with vine-covered trellises and the sound of flowing water. She gave the new businesses an appreciative glance, then trotted up to the Carousel's door.

This part was a bit of a gamble – there hadn't been time to write her sister before grabbing a train. With any luck, there was still a guest bedroom upstairs. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“Coming!” a musical voice sang from within. The faint sound of hooves descending stairs followed, and a moment later the door swung inward, revealing a white unicorn with a pink and lavender mane. “Rarity!” Sweetie Belle rushed forward and wrapped her sister in a hug.

“Hello, Sweetie Belle. Sorry for showing up unannounced.” Rarity returned the hug, amazed once again at how her sister had grown. Sweetie Belle was nearly as tall as her now, with the lean, slender grace that spoke of a mare on the cusp of adulthood. Her mane had lost most of its curls, and flowed down her neck and shoulders in a cascade of thick waves that danced absently between hues. Sweetie Belle would soon be turning stallions' heads – if she wasn't already. The thought made Rarity freeze for just a moment.

“It's your house, Rarity. You know you're always welcome here,” her sister replied, quickly backing into the doorway and pulling Rarity with her. She glanced outside at the mound of luggage. “Only here for a few nights?”

“Up to a week, perhaps. Is that a problem?”

“Nope!” Sweetie vanished through the door and reappeared a few seconds later with Rarity's collection of baggage in tow. “Do you mind staying in my old room? I, uh, I kinda moved into yours.”

“Oh, that's not a problem, darling.” Rarity followed her sister up the stairs. “Why, I expected to sleep on the couch.”

“I'd sleep on the couch before I let you do that.” Sweetie Belle pushed open the door to her old room and trotted through. It was still decorated with all of her old things – pictures of the Crusaders, macaroni art from Cheerilee's class, awards from singing competitions. A wave of nostalgia washed over Rarity at the sight, and she blinked rapidly.

Things used to be so simple.

“This will do just fine, Sweetie,” she said. “Just drop those anywhere, I'll unpack later.” She paused, searching for the best way to proceed. “You're sure I'm not imposing by staying here? I'd hate to be a drag on your social life.”

“Is that a Big Sister way of asking if I'm dating anypony?” Sweetie raised an eyebrow at her. She seemed to suppress a grin.

Rarity coughed politely. “Well, yes. I suppose it is.” She paused, then leaned forward. “So, are you?”

“How about we talk over lunch.”

* * *

They ate at an upscale salad bar that had opened after Rarity left Ponyville, and spent more than an hour catching up on each others' lives. Sweetie was impressed with Rarity's success in Fillydelphia, while Rarity couldn't help but envy the simple joy that Sweetie seemed to draw from her life here.

Sweetie, it turned out, was dating, but despite all her wheedling, Rarity couldn’t draw so much as a name from her sister. “You'll find out later,” was all Sweetie said. After a few more attempts to pry out the salacious details, Rarity pouted and moved on, and the rest of their chatter dealt with the more mundane details of life.

By the time they finished the deli was nearly empty, and the sun had begun to creep across the sky into mid-afternoon. They exchanged a long hug, and promised to speak more over dinner.

Until then, Rarity had some ponies to meet. She trotted away from the deli toward the center of town, passing by the Town Hall on the way to the towering, garish crystal castle that loomed over the otherwise bucolic skyline. The crystal gleamed in the late morning sun, and looked little changed from what Rarity remembered from her last visit. She wondered, absently, if the same could be said for the pony inside.

There were no guards at the entrance, which was nice. The main door was open, and the interior was just as she remembered: coolly lit walls, somehow more elegant than the outside would lead a pony to suspect. The draping and decoration was in the same tasteful style she recalled from years ago, though it seemed many of the rooms had been repurposed for one thing or another. The throne room was unchanged, with its map of Equestria in the center, but at some point Twilight had filled the massive central hall with dozens of bookshelves, each stuffed to overflowing. Isolated reading tables dotted the wide room, covered with runnels of wax from Twilight's late-night studies. She'd even kept the odd circular table with the horse head sculpture, one of the few surviving relics of the old library tree.

“Hello?” she called. “Spike? Twilight?”

Her voice bounced off the crystal walls and down the halls, and she heard the clip-clop of hooves grow near, followed shortly thereafter by the princess herself. Twilight gave a little gasp as the sight of her guest, and suddenly there was a bright purple flash. When Rarity could see again, Twilight was standing in front of her, bouncing from hoof to hoof with an exuberant grin on her face.

“Rarity!” Twilight leaned forward to touch noses, one of the fashionable greetings Rarity had taught her that were popular in such urbane locales as Fillydelphia. “Dash was right! You did come back!”

“Of course I came back, darling. You know I could never abandon Ponyville.” She smiled at Twilight and gave the mare a quick once-over. Not much different from the last time they'd met, almost a year ago now. Taller now, as tall as Cadence, and she'd finally done something with her mane. Her bangs were now elegantly swept to the side, just barely exposing the root of her horn. A rather daring statement for such a bookish mare. Rarity felt herself nodding in approval. Then the rest of Twilight's sentence hit her.

“Is Dash back already?” she asked. Rarity couldn't have said why, but for some reason it was very important that Rainbow Dash be in Ponyville.

“Supposedly. I haven't seen her yet, but Pinkie came by earlier and said she was back.” Twilight's horn glowed, and a pair of sitting cushions zipped across the room toward them. She took a seat on one before continuing. “She said you'd both be visiting for a bit.”

Rarity gratefully accepted the other pillow. Although she spent most of her day on her hooves back in Fillydelphia, she wasn't used to so much walking. “About a week or so, I'd venture. Enough to catch up on all the latest gossip.”

“Well, you heard about Fluttershy?”

“Oh, I have!” She clapped her hooves together. “Sweetie Belle told me earlier. Can you imagine, Twilight! Fluttershy, our Fluttershy, about to be a mother?”

“I know.” Twilight's eyes lost their focus for a moment, a dreamy smile on her face. “She's so excited. You should see her and Big Mac together. I've never seen two ponies look so happy.”

The smile froze on Rarity's face. So happy. Neat how that works, isn't it? You find the pony you're meant for, and live happily ever after.

“Yes, I can imagine,” Rarity said without missing a beat. “They seem perfect for each other.”

“As perfect as a couple can be.” Twilight turned her head, giving Rarity a sidelong glance. “And what about you? Still looking for your prince?”

Bitch! She clamped down on the words that threatened to pour from her mouth, instantly ashamed. Twilight had no way of knowing her particular... troubles... in that regard. Twilight was just being a friend – catching up on the very same gossip Rarity had expressed an interest in. She smiled, knowing from years of practice that it would look perfectly genuine, and waved a hoof dismissively.

“Oh Twilight, you and your jokes.” The word “jokes” came out with a bit more stress than she'd intended. “No, I'm afraid I'm too busy these days with my shop to be looking for love.”

You're getting good at lying.

“That's too bad.” Twilight gave her a little smile. “I still feel like that sometimes, when I spend the whole day cooped up with these books.”

“Mm? I thought you and that one fellow were seeing each other.” Rarity rubbed her chin with a hoof. What was that stallion's name? Turner something. “That chestnut stallion?”

“Oh, yes.” Twilight suddenly blushed furiously. “We, ah, we are still seeing each other, in fact. You know, casually. As friends.”

“Yes, good friends.” Rarity leaned forward. “You'll have to tell me more about him, one of these nights. And just how 'friendly' you two are with each other. Just between us girls.”

“Aha, yes, just between us girls.” Twilight glanced around the room as if searching for something. “So, ah, I heard you saw Dash in Fillydelphia.”

Oh yes, Rainbow Dash. The whole reason for her impromptu visit. The sudden change in mood was like a bucket of ice-water poured on her head.

“Yes, I did.” Rarity looked down at her hooves. When she continued, her voice was low and quiet. “She didn't look good, Twilight. Almost like she hasn't been eating enough. Truthfully, the whole reason I asked her to come to Ponyville was because I thought she needed help.”

Twilight listened in silence. Her brows drew together, and a tiny frown tugged down her lips. “It's been six months. Do you think she's still, you know... grieving?”

“I don't know what else it could be.” Rarity sighed. “I worry we didn't do enough for her. We could have asked her to stay with us for a while. Any of us could have.”

“She wanted to get back to the Wonder Bolts,” Twilight pointed out. “She insisted on it, remember? Said it's what he'd want.”

“Well, it's not working.” Twilight drew back from the snap in Rarity's words. “She's hurting, Twilight, and we need to help her. She'll be here for a week, maybe longer if we can convince her to stay. The Bolts can do without her, even if she doesn't think so.”

Wow, that sounded genuinely caring. Who are you and what have you done with Rarity?

Rarity scowled, then quickly willed her face into it's usual smug, impassive mask before Twilight could notice. She needn't have worried – Twilight was studying her hooves, a pained look on her face.

“I don't know, Rarity. I haven't seen her in a while, not since the funeral,” Twilight finally said. She took a deep breath before continuing. “But if you're right, then we need to try something. Count me in.”

A previously unfelt tension in Rarity's gut relaxed at Twilight's statement. Twilight was the smartest of them, and if anypony could help, it was her. She smiled at the princess.

“Thank you, Twilight,” she said. “Anyway, I suppose there's already a party being planned for tonight?”

* * *

There was a party, and it was incredible.

Pinkie Pie had always been legendary for her parties, but as she grew into adulthood she graduated from small, confetti-strewn celebrations that occupied a single room or house into massive events, the kind of party that ground the entire town to a stop and laid up most of its adult population for the next day as well. Parties that ponies remembered for years. More than one relationship owed its existence to her parties, and a few foals besides.

The transition took place right around the same time Pinkie was old enough to drink alcohol. Twilight Sparkle had once speculated (ruefully, in a bathroom with Rarity rubbing her back while she vomited) that those facts might be related in some way.

In sum, Rarity was already expecting a lavish party when she arrived at the town hall that evening. She dressed casually, selecting a simple black saddle with smooth lines and no frills. It had a matching bridle, but she elected to leave it at home – this wasn't going to be that kind of party. Sweetie Belle hadn't wanted to wear anything special, but Rarity successfully badgered her into at least bringing a scarf. Scarves were already coming back into fashion with the slow dawning of autumn and its colder weather.

Ponyville's entire central square had been cordoned off with streamers for the party. Hundreds of paper lanterns, each painted with some pony's cutie mark, were suspended in the air by a network of crisscrossing lines just above their heads. The candles within them cast overlapping circles of light on the ground below. Dozens of tables had been set up in a rough circle around the dance floor, and—

Rarity blinked and looked again. Yes, there really was a dance floor. In the middle of the town square.

“How long has Pinkie been setting this up?” she asked Sweetie. Around them, dozens of ponies milled about, with more arriving every minute.

“Several hours, at least,” Sweetie said. “She's been planning it since yesterday. Oh, look! There's your lantern!” She pointed her horn at a white lantern a few yards away emblazoned with a trio of blue diamonds.

Rarity wanted to go inspect it more closely, but a commotion on the Town Hall's patio grabbed her eye. Pinkie Pie and a white unicorn with an electric blue mane were pushing a pair of huge speakers to the fore. They connected some wires to the back, and then dashed off.

“And she got a DJ,” Rarity said. “Is there a cover for this party?”

“No, the town budgets for a certain number of these every year. Something about the historical—“

“HELLO EVERYPONY. CAN YOU HEAR ME?” Pinkie's voice, deafeningly loud, blasted from the speakers. There was a short pause while those nearest to the stage shouted at the DJ's table. Rarity could see the DJ adjusting something on her control board.

“Sorry, how about now?” Pinkie's voice returned, still loud but no longer painful. “Great! Welcome to the First Annual Elements of Harmony Reunion and Commemoration Party! Can you believe it's been...” She trailed off for a few moments. “Nine years, two months and twenty-nine days since we rediscovered the Elements of Harmony and rescued Princess Luna, right here in Ponyville?”

And... no. Rarity couldn't. Nine years? A crippling sense of age overwhelmed her. It seemed like just yesterday that she was meeting Twilight for the first time in her boutique, and now she was an old, single mare on the verge of—

“Oh, stop that.” Sweetie gave her a rough poke in the side. Rarity could barely hear her over the cheering crowd and Pinkie's continuing discourse on how old she was. “You're not old. You're not even our parents' age when they married.”

Rarity coughed. “Erm, sorry dear. Was it that obvious?”

“Blindingly.”

Rarity opened her mouth to respond when a spotlight swung across the crowd and pinned her in place. She froze, unable to see, as Pinkie's voice returned over the loudspeakers.

“And last but certainly not least, Rarity! Say hello, Rarity!”

Most ponies would have panicked at suddenly being thrust before a crowd, spotlighted and put on the spot. She hadn't even heard most of Pinkie's speech. Beside her, Sweetie Belle edged away from the spotlight's glare.

Fortunately, Rarity was used to the limelight. She reflexively struck a pose, her head raised high and tilted imperiously as she touched a hoof to her chest. “Hello, Ponyville! I hope you're all feeling fabulous tonight!” she cried, her voice as clear and ringing as a bell. The crowd answered with cheers.

“Oh, you.” Sweetie gave her another tap as the spotlight swung away. “Most ponies would just wave.”

Yes, yes they would. Rarity felt a smug little grin on her face and didn't bother bother to hide it. “Well, we can't all be glamorous, darling.” She leaned down and gave Sweetie a quick smooch on the cheek. “Now then, I need to go find the girls. Will you be alright here?”

Sweetie's eyes darted off to the side, then back to Rarity. If Rarity hadn't been watching, she wouldn't missed it. “Uh, sure. I think I saw some friends... I'll just go hang out with them.” She gave Rarity a grin, then trotted off toward the mass of ponies, gaining speed with every step she took away from her sister. Within moments she was lost in the crowd.

Indeed. Rarity scanned the crowd, wondering which colt it could possibly be. There weren't many here her sister's age, but then, she might be dating up a few years. Another mystery to consider.

* * *

Rarity wandered the square without aim as the party warmed up. She wasn't in a hurry to find her friends just yet, and the warm glow of socializing was just starting to settle in. Everywhere she stepped, ponies both familiar and unknown welcomed her back to town. She found herself smiling after a while, and wasn't able to stop.

You should have come home long ago.

Maybe. She didn't let the thought bring her down. This was a party, and parties were for happy ponies. And more importantly, she had to find some way to help Rainbow Dash. Moping wouldn't accomplish that.

You wouldn't have to mope if you'd stayed here. What has Fillydelphia gotten you?

She found Applejack at one of the tables, surrounded by another small crowd of well-wishers. The earth pony hadn't dressed up for the party, instead wearing her usual Stetson hat and nothing else. Rarity sighed quietly and sidled up beside her. “Hello, Applejack.”

“Rarity! How you been, girl?” Applejack wrapped her in a bone-crushing hug. “Gosh, I haven't seen you since, uh...”

Right. Since the funeral. Rarity wondered if Rainbow Dash ever got tired of hearing that. She gave Applejack a polite nuzzle and pushed forward with the conversation, to get it off that shaky ground. “I've been wonderful, darling. And how are you? I hear you're expecting a niece.”

“A niece or a nephew.” Applejack released her grip and settled back onto her hooves. “Mac and I have a bet going. If it's a filly, I get to name her.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “I see... have you told Fluttershy about this little bet?”

“Heh.” Applejack rubbed the back of her neck with a hoof. “Well, I get to suggest a name, anyway.”

“Mhm. On another note, then.” She took a seat beside Applejack and lowered her voice. The music booming from the speakers was loud enough to render her almost mute from more than a few feet away. “I heard Rainbow Dash stayed at your farm last night.”

Applejack's face grew serious. “Yup, she did. And she didn't look so good. You did the right thing, asking her to come back here.”

Rarity blushed and ducked her head. How long has it been since anypony said you did the right thing? She coughed into her hoof.

“Well, yes. Thank you. Did she come out here with you?”

Applejack nodded at her, then turned to peer at the crowd. “We walked together, but she wandered off somewhere after Pinkie's introductions. Honestly, I'd check the bar.”

Something about that nagged at the back of Rarity's mind. Not the bar part – the Wonder Bolts were all famous drinkers, and Rainbow Dash had developed a particularly outsized reputation for putting full grown stallions under the table. She puzzled over it for a moment, then filed it away for later.

“I think I'll do that,” she said. “We'll chat more later, hm?” She gave Applejack another nuzzle, then stepped back into the crowd.

* * *

The bar was crowded, but not with anypony resembling Rainbow Dash. Rarity sighed and pushed her way forward anyway. She could use a drink.

“Cosmopolitan, please,” she told the bartender. He gave her a short nod and turned to grab the requisite spirits, and a few moments of deft mixology later slid the drink across the counter to her. She pushed a few bits across the bar toward him, and was surprised when he pushed them back.

“On the house, ma'am. It's your party, after all.”

“Oh, thank you, darling.” She gave him a smokey smile and floated the bits into his tip cup instead. “I'm looking for a mare, Rainbow Dash. Blue coat, colorful mane. Do you know her?”

“Hard not to know her,” he said. He was silent for a moment as he collected empty glasses from the counter and dropped them somewhere below the bar. “Was here a few minutes ago. Got two drinks when I told her they were free.”

Now, that was a tempting idea. She took a sip from the Cosmo and immediately reconsidered – this one had enough alcohol for two drinks all by itself. That earned the bartender another sultry smile, and she turned back to the crowd. She wandered for a while, sipping at her drink and keeping an eye open for a garish rainbow mane. If she was around here, the pastel crowd was hiding her well.

Eventually, Rarity's wanderings took her back to the center, and she found an open seat at one of the tables. The other ponies there welcomed her warmly, and she made small talk with a younger pegasus mare about the benefits of living in a city like Fillydelphia while she finished her drink.

A few couples were already taking advantage of the dance floor. Rarity watched them silently from the sidelines. Hm, her dress is too tight. And toile? I really should have a talk with that mare. None of the dancing ponies seemed too interested in fashion at the moment, though. When the song ended, one of the couples bowed away and sat in the concealing darkness beneath a nearby tree, their sides pressed against each other, heads low as they whispered, the party forgotten.

Rarity sighed at the sight. She was about to get another drink when Twilight Sparkle sidled up beside her.

“Hey, Rarity,” she said. Her horn glowed with its faint purple light as she levitated a pair of drinks, one for herself and one for her friend. “Everything alright?”

“Oh, Twilight, you’re such a dear.” Rarity took the offered drink and drew a long sip from the convoluted neon green straw. A Manehattan, and not a bad one. “I was just watching those young couples. They don’t realize how blessed they are. Do you know what the rarest thing in the world is, Twilight?”

Twilight was silent for a while. She lowered her head in thought, then looked up with a cautious expression on her face. “Polonium?”

“Love, Twilight,” Rarity continued as though the librarian hadn’t spoken. “True love! And when we have it, we are so blinded by its brilliance that we do not realize what a treasure it is.”

“Oh, right, love.” Twilight took a sip from her drink, then mumbled something under her breath. Rarity thought she heard the word “metaphor.” They sat silently for a while, watching the dancing crowd.

“You haven't seen Rainbow Dash, have you?” Rarity asked once her drink was nearly gone.

“Did you try the bar?”

“Yes. I suppose I could just station myself there until she returns.” Rarity finished her drink off with a frown. “Or I could wander some more.”

Twilight got to her hooves. “I'll start looking too. If I find her, we'll come get you.”

“Mm, and where shall we meet?”

Twilight glanced at her drink. It was almost empty. “How about the bar?”

“Sounds good to me.” Rarity stood and stretched. She gave her friend a quick nuzzle, and then vanished into the crowd again.

* * *

She didn't have to search much longer. Rainbow Dash was sitting just a few tables away, surrounded by ponies yet somehow entirely alone. She was looking up at something, and when Rarity followed her gaze she saw a light blue paper lantern decorated with a rainbow lightning bolt.

“Hey,” Dash said as she approached, her eyes never leaving the lantern. She seemed as thin and wiry as before, but at least she'd styled her mane into something other than its usual bird's nest.

“Er, hello dear.” Rarity took a seat beside her and gave an apologetic smile ponies she crowded out of the way. When they saw who she was they smiled back and made room. “I'm glad you were able to make it. How are you feeling?”

“Great. Doing great.” She tilted her head at the lantern. “Did you know Apple Bloom made these? Nearly three thousand of them. It took her an entire school year.”

Rarity blinked. She hadn't realized there were that many ponies in Ponyville. “No, Sweetie didn't mention that. Did you see Apple Bloom last night?”

Rainbow Dash shook her head, finally looking away from the lantern. “Nah, spent the night at the farm, though. AJ mentioned it when we got here.”

“Did you see Fluttershy?”

“Heh, yeah.” Rainbow Dash smiled. The mere expression seemed to lift years from her frame. “You should see her, Rares. She's starting to blow up.”

Rarity coughed and gave Dash a mock scowl. “It's not polite to mention that, you know.”

“Fluttershy wouldn't mind.” Dash's smile faded, and she looked out at the crowd. The song that had been playing came to an end, and there were a few seconds of silence as the DJ queued up the next. “She's going to make a great mother.”

Yes, she would. Images of Fluttershy, her mane tangled and her coat matted with sweat, cradling a newborn foal flashed before Rarity's eyes. A powerful swell of emotion rushed up from her chest, and she found herself blinking away tears.

“We'll have to come back before the birth,” she managed to say, once her voice had steadied.

Rainbow Dash nodded. If any similar feelings stirred within her breast, she concealed them better than Rarity could. They were silent for a while as the party beat on around them.

“Hey, you wanna dance?”

Rarity blinked. “Dance, together? You and me?”

“Yeah, we'd look silly dancing alone.”

“Well...” Rarity hedged. The song was some sort of techno track, with a heavy repeating base that was perfect for grinding and bouncing alongside one's partner, but not the sort of music she preferred. Classical waltzes, ball room, or even jazz she could easily deal with. The music beloved by socialites the world over. “This isn't really my kind of music, Dash.”

“Hey, no worry.” Dash waved a hoof. “It's no biggie. Not every pony can dance.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “I assure you, Rainbow Dash, I know how to dance. This music is simply more... vulgar... than I normally prefer.”

“That's fine. I'm not judging you.” Dash leaned back against the table, her face a study in non-nonchalance. “Much,” she added, just on the edge of Rarity's hearing.

Ah, so it was like that. Rarity rose to her hooves and stretched elegantly, the kind of stretch more designed to advertise her body and its youthful suppleness than do anything for her muscles. When she opened her eyes Dash was staring at her, along with several nearby stallions (and even a mare or two). She chuckled quietly and brushed against a rust coated stallion as she stepped toward the dance floor, knowing without having to look that he would only be a step or two behind.

A new song started just as she reached the floor, loaded with strings and backed by an aggressive beat in a predictable twelve measure rhythm. She let the music play out for a few bars while her partner sidled up beside her, and then began to dance.

She kept it simple, more for the stallion's sake than her own. It hadn't been a lie when she told Dash she could dance – her shoulders bounced smoothly from beat to beat, her hooves landing with a sharp crack on the floor at the end of each measure. The song added a second bass rhythm, and she flicked her tail and mane in time with it. Every few beats she brushed up against her partner's chest or side, just to keep things interesting. By the time the song ended, she was breathing heavily, and a faint sheen of sweat lent both her and the stallion an attractive glow. She gave him a smile and turned back to Rainbow Dash.

“So, want to dance?” she called. The stallion made a disappointed sound behind her, but soon enough was snatched up by another mare. He'd be fine.

Dash rolled her eyes, but nevertheless trotted out onto the dance floor. Her gait seemed to gain an extra bit of spring the moment she crossed the threshold. “Show off.” She gave Rarity a little jab with her wing.

“What?” Her dancing hadn't been that good. Better than most, perhaps, but nothing that would stand out at one of Pinkie Pie's parties. “That was nothing.”

“Not the dancing, the stallion.” Dash started bouncing in time with the music as a new song began. She slid back and forth, fluid as water, stopping every few measures spin in place with her wings extended. Rarity quickly grasped the timing and stepped away each time to avoid getting thwacked.

“What about him?” She risked a glance away from Dash, trying to find him. He and a crème mare seemed to be having fun a few steps away.

“You just touched him, and he followed you out here like a puppy.” The song switched to a boisterous beat, and Dash switched to a simpler bounce, her wings extended straight up as though to grasp the sky. “You think most mares can do that?” She raised her voice to be heard.

Well, no. But then, she'd had plenty of practice with stallions. The rueful thought twisted her face into a frown, and she almost missed it when the song came to an end. Dash was staring at her from just a few inches away. She wasn't even breathing hard, Rarity noticed.

“Maybe he was just lonely.” Rarity said. He didn't look very lonely at the moment, but that was neither here nor there.

“Whatever.” Dash blew her mane out of her eyes. “Hey, let's get some drinks. We can dance later.

That they could. Rarity followed Dash off the dance floor toward the bar as another song began to play.

* * *

One drink quickly became two drinks, then three and four. When Rarity managed to put all those back without collapsing under the table, Rainbow Dash went back for another round. She returned with a pair of scotches, not the sort of drink Rarity expected from the pegasus. She raised an eyebrow as Dash set them on the table.

“What, I'm not allowed to like scotch?” Dash asked. The alcohol had softened her voice and attitude both, and she gave Rarity a grin as she settled down beside her.

“Mm, no complaints here, darling.” She levitated the glass and gave it a sip. Not top shelf, but still respectable. Certainly not what she expected from one of Pinkie's parties. She had long since developed a pleasing buzz, and leaned against Dash's side as they drank in comfortable silence. Around them the party had begun to wind down, with couples stumbling back to their homes. Above them, many of the lanterns had burned their candles down to stubs, and only tiny embers glowed from within.

“Hey girls,” Twilight's voice came from beside them. The alicorn trotted up and stopped when she saw the array of empty glasses on their table. “Whoa. You two okay?”

“Mm, just fine, thank you.” Rarity smiled a bit wider than normal and took another sip. “Dash, how... how are you?”

“Mmgood.”

“See? We're fine.” Rarity turned back to Twilight, who was looking at them skeptically. “How are you?”

“Sober.”

“That's too bad,” Rarity said. “Dash, do you remember the first time Twilight got drunk?”

“Yes!” Dash snorted, then lost herself in a fit of giggles. “The look on the mayor's face when she learned we broke into the school...” She ran out of breath and began giggling again.

“Yes, well, you two seem fine.” Twilight said flatly. “I'll be heading back—“

“My telescope! They stole my telescope!” Dash burst out. Rarity snickered beneath her breath.

“Right, leaving now. You two get home safe, alright?” Twilight shook her head and trotted away, muttering quietly. Rarity and Dash waited until she was safely away, then broke down in giggles.

“We'll... we'll have to apologize to her tomorrow.” Rarity managed to say. The alcohol was starting to hit her a bit harder, now. The previously level horizon was beginning to sway, as though they were viewing it from a boat.

“Eh, she'll be fine.” Dash rose to her hooves and took a few careful steps. Her balance seemed steadier than Rarity felt, and she tossed back the last of her scotch before letting out a satisfied sigh. “I think the party's about over, though.”

Rarity looked around the emptying square. The dance floor had long since been abandoned, and the DJ was packing up her table. Clusters of ponies huddled around the tables, chatting quietly as they finished the last of their drinks. Even the bartender seemed ready to pack up for the evening.

“Yes, I think we've shut the place down,” she said. “And Sweetie Belle is nowhere to be seen. I suppose that means it's time to head back to the boutique.”

“You're staying with your sister?” Dash gave her a shoulder to lean on as she stood, then trotted alongside her as they left the square. Within moments the commotion of the party had faded, and they were just two mares walking down an empty, dark street at night.

It was a short walk to the studio, though in Rarity's mind it would forever be her boutique. The carousel design was unchanged – only the sign indicated that some other pony had set up shop here. They stopped a few steps away from the door.

“You're staying here?” Dash asked. She looked up at the structure quietly, her wings fanning a light breeze around her.

“Mhm. I assume you're at your old...” Rarity trailed off. Hadn't someone mentioned that Rainbow Dash stayed with the Apples last night? Why wouldn't she have slept in her cloud house?

“Yeah, ah...” Dash looked down at her hooves for a moment. “I'll probably crash somewhere else tonight. It's too dark to fly home.”

Too dark to fly? Even through the haze of alcohol, that made no sense. Dash flew in the dark all the time. She flew in the dark when Nightmare Moon had returned without breaking a sweat, and that was as a filly.

Her incredulity must have shown on her face. Dash cringed and took a step away.

“So, uh, I'll just see if Pinkie's still up,” she said. “I've stayed at her place plenty of—“

“Nonsense,” Rarity cut her off. “I have a perfectly good spare bedroom. You can, ah, 'crash' here, if you like.”

“I don't wanna be a bother, Rares.” For all her alleged hesitation, the relief on Dash's face was plain to see, even through the alcohol and in the darkness. When Rarity pushed open the door, Dash followed behind her without complaint.

They tiptoed as quietly as two drunk mares could up the stairs, pausing halfway up for a short argument over who was stepping on whose hooves. They made it the rest of the way to the top without further incident, and Rarity ushered Dash into Sweetie's old room. The pegasus seemed to hesitate at the threshold for some reason.

“Is everything alright, darling?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dash stepped slowly into the room, giving it a long inspection in the dim glow of the lights outside. “Hey... has anyone else lived in here? Aside from you?”

“Well, it's Sweetie Belle's room, not mine. No one else has ever lived in it.”

“Right.” For some reason that seemed to put Dash at ease, and she climbed up on the bed without further complaint. “Hey, thanks for letting me stay here.”

“Of course.” She leaned over to give Dash a quick nuzzle, then yawned. The alcohol was finally catching up with her. “I'll see you in the morning, then.” She closed the door behind her as she left, and tiptoed back downstairs to the waiting couch.

So, Dash wasn't staying at her old cloud home. For all Rarity knew, the poor thing might have simply blown away in the years they were gone. Cloud homes weren't like farms or boutiques or libraries, she imagined. Like most things with pegasi, they lacked permanence.

But if that were the case, why not just say so? Why make up something silly about not wanting to fly? It was too much for Rarity's alcohol-numbed mind to deal with so late at night, and she settled onto the couch with a grumble. It was not as nice as her couch in Fillydelphia, but it was good enough for her purposes. She seemed to be saying that a lot about couches, lately.

Not a bad first day back, hm?

Not bad at all. Old friends, family, fun times. All that was missing was her fashion business, moored in the high society of Fillydelphia. And, of course, her prince.

Your prince isn't in Fillydelphia, either.

Perhaps not, but ponies like Bright Mark were. A small smile crept onto her lips as she remembered the previous night's entertainment. She could almost imagine him crowded onto the couch with her, his body pressing against hers, his hooves rough against her coat.

You need to stop pretending. This isn't healthy.

She frowned at the thought. Who was she to judge what's healthy in a pony's relationships? Plenty of mares were choosey about their mates. Better to be picky now than repent for the rest of her life.

You're not being picky, you're being insane. There's no fucking prince!

She rolled onto her back, trying to get comfortable. More memories of the previous night, unbidden but not unwelcome, flooded into her mind. She could have ignored them, certainly, but that would have meant spending all night listening to her own critical thoughts, and there was only so much of that she could stomach before screaming.

Giving in to her imagination had its own drawbacks, though. She bit her lip as the heat began to build between her legs, and she crushed her thighs together with a silent moan, a mere exhale of breath rather than sound. She closed her eyes and felt Bright Mark atop her again, his hoof exploring lower and lower. Yes, right there.

Her own hoof, undirected, began tracing circles over her belly, dipping lower and lower with each orbit. She spread her legs at last, and her hoof brushed teasingly over her lips, pausing for just a moment to press against the tiny nub at their apex. Her hips shuddered at the touch.

And then Bright Mark was... was... she opened her eyes in the darkness. For some reason she could barely remember what he looked like, much less how he made her feel last night. She could remember the sex, of course, but there was nothing to tell it apart from any of the dozen other stallions she had slept with during the past year. She let out a tiny frustrated growl and pressed her hoof against her crotch. Nothing.

Well, shoot.

This wasn't a problem other mares had, she imagined. Rainbow Dash, sleeping just one floor above, would never lack for fantasies to clop to. For all Rarity knew, Dash was up there now, slowly rubbing herself off.

It was a short leap from thought to imagination. She saw Rainbow Dash on the bed, atop the covers. Her garish mane was strewn about haphazardly, her wings twitching spastically in time with the pleasure pulsing through her body. Not one but both hooves were thrust between her legs and working furiously.

Rarity's hoof moved again, gently mashing her lips. She let out a silent breath as the images played out in her mind. Rainbow Dash rolled onto her back, her legs splayed obscenely wide, hiding absolutely nothing. Thick, clear fluid slathered her crotch and the insides of her thighs. Her hoof was a blur.

Yes, that was the ticket. Rarity twisted her hoof, pressing its edge between her lips. They were already disgustingly wet, and she could smell the tang of her excitement. She imagined leaning over Rainbow Dash's shaking form. What would she smell like? Dash opened her eyes, surprised, as Rarity gently pushed away her hoof, exposing her crotch. Her lips, wet and shining, lay open like the petals on a flower. She moaned as Rarity's muzzle lowered, and her tongue darted out to lap at that beautiful bounty. Dash's hooves wrapped in her mane and forced her head lower.

Rarity inhaled, and it was like breathing pure sex. Her tongue delved deeper between Dash's folds, teasing the loose folds. She took one of the lips between her teeth and tugged lightly, drawing a shuddering moan from the pegasus. Beneath her, her own hooves pressed into her crotch, rubbing her nub so furiously the sensation bordered on pain.

She pulled her head away, drawing a disappointed groan from Dash. Rarity grinned at her friend, then placed a light kiss at the top of her sex, her tongue darting out to flick at the nub hidden there. The firm point of flesh was like a beacon, and she slowly circled with her tongue, suckled at it with her lips. Rarity pressed the tip of her hoof between Dash's lips, opening and penetrating the mare in a single motion. She could feel Dash's heartbeat with her tongue. Wings beat a frantic tattoo against the bed, out of control.

She looked up along the length of Dash's body. Bright scarlet eyes, wide and shining in the darkness, looked back.

Rarity gasped, shockingly loud in the dark and silence of the boutique. Her hoof pressed frantically between her legs, and her eyes shot open as one of the most powerful orgasms she could ever recall having wracked her body. For minutes afterward she lay twitching on the couch, her hoof still between her legs, as though trying to hold in the pleasure she had just experienced. Everything below her waist felt sodden. She would have to find some excuse to clean the couch before the rest of the house woke up.

That could wait, though. She chuckled to herself as she slowly drifted off. The last thing she imagined was Rainbow Dash again, curled up beside her, a satisfied smile on her lips.

And what an odd thought that was.

Lowered Inhibitions

The sun was well over the horizon when Rainbow Dash finally woke.

At first, she didn't know where she was. The bright blue walls were decorated with elegant geometric designs. Some pony had painted a mural of treble clefs and musical staffs filled with notes all along the ceiling. The bed was... well, 'poofy' was the only word she could bring to mind to describe it. No less than a dozen colorful pillows vied for space at its head, and a fluffy matching down comforter covered the rest. It looked like a room Rarity would sleep in.

Not Rarity, she amended. Sweetie Belle. Memories of the previous night slowly came back as she lolled about on the bed. She remembered the party, and dancing, and drinking. Lots and lots of drinking.

There was no rush to get up, so she snuggled back into the comforter. This is really soft. Can you buy them like this?How much would that cost? She mulled over the question absently as she drifted between sleeping and waking. How much time passed in that state of blissful semi-consciousness, she could not have said.

Alas, it did not last forever. The door opened softly and a disheveled Sweetie Belle poked her head in. “Hey sis, are you—whoa! Uh, sorry, sorry.” The head vanished, and the door clicked shut behind her.

Huh. Dash blinked at the door, then yawned and made a face. She needed to brush her teeth and get washed up, preferably in that order. Her tongue tasted like something had died on it.

A few minutes in the washroom got the worst of the taste out of her mouth. She considered her mane in the mirror – it looked like a bird's nest that had somehow survived a paint factory explosion. Not up to regs, Soarin would have said. She scowled at her reflection and ran her hoof under the water, then lightly patted at her mane.

There. She gave her head a shake that splattered the mirror with droplets of water. Perfect.

Sweetie Belle and Rarity were already having breakfast when Dash made her way down the stairs. Rarity managed to look perfect, as though she hadn't spent half the night at a party and the other half passed out. Not a hair in her mane was out of place, her coat wasn't matted on one side like Dash's, and even her makeup was flawless. They had a third place set at the table, and Dash slipped into the seat. Hey, waffles! Nice.

“Good morning, Rainbow Dash!” Sweetie said. She had a huge grin on her face for some reason. “It's great to see you back in Ponyville. And already enjoying my sister's hospitality!”

“Uh, yeah, it's great to be back.” Dash said. Rarity was giving her sister a flat look, and her lips were pursed in that expression she got when something was annoying her but she was too polite to say anything about it but wanted you to know she was irritated anyway so really she wasn't being very polite at all. Dash glanced between the unicorns, wondering what she was missing.

“Rarity was just telling me that she gave you my old room, and she slept downstairs on the couch.” Sweetie Belle paused to take a bite of her waffle and a long sip from her orange juice. “Allegedly,” she added under her breath, giving Rarity a smug look.

“Dash, would you please inform my sister,” the word veritably dripped with acid, “that after we returned from the party, I showed you to your room, and then we parted ways for the evening?”

“Uh... yeah?” Dash couldn't keep the confusion out of her voice. “Wait, you slept on the couch? I thought you had another room.”

“Well, I couldn't let a guest sleep on the couch.” Rarity looked shocked at the notion. Across the table, Sweetie Belle's smug grin faded into a disappointed pout.

That seemed odd to Dash. She made guests sleep on the couch all the time, whenever various Wonder Bolts needed a place to crash. That's what couches were for. She was about to say so when Rarity spoke again.

“Oh, and did you ever find your friend, Sweetie?” Rarity leaned forward over the table. She had a small, dangerous smile on her face. “I was so looking forward to meeting him, too.”

Sweetie Belle blushed, her face turning a brilliant pink that only white-coated ponies could manage. “Oh, uh... well it was very crowded and we weren't able to find you again, and then... hey, let me get those.” Her horn glowed as she stood, and the used plates and empty cups littering the table zipped into the air and followed her as she retreated into the kitchen.

Dash stared after her for a moment. “So, uh, is everything alright between you two?” she asked Rarity.

“Hm?” Rarity seemed surprised at the question. “Oh, of course. I forget, you never had a sister, did you? We needle each other from time to time. It's all in good fun.” She took a sip from her drink. “Except when it's meddling!” she suddenly yelled in the direction of the kitchen. There was a crash, as of a cup being dropped in the sink.

“Er, right,” Dash said. “I don't wanna cause any problems.”

“Oh, darling. Of course you aren't.” Rarity set a hoof on Dash's foreleg. “Believe me, Sweetie is thrilled to see you here. We all are.”

Dash smiled at her. It had been a while since anypony had said that to her. “Hey, thanks.” She fiddled with her drink as she considered her next words. “So, do you have any plans for today? Maybe we could, like, hang out?”

A silence stretched out between them. Rarity blinked, looking like Dash had just proposed to her or something equally absurd. A slithery nervousness twisted Dash's guts, and she was about to open her mouth to rescind the question when Rarity spoke.

“Why Dash, that would be marvelous.” A smile slowly overtook her lips. “In fact, I have just the thing for us.”

Well, that was only slightly foreboding. Nevertheless, Dash stood with Rarity, and together they walked toward the door.

“Oh, Rarity?” she asked.

“Yes Dash?”

“What does 'allegedly' mean?”

* * *

Rarity's plan for the first part of their day began – and ended – just a few blocks from the Carousel Studio. By the time they reached their destination, Rarity was practically bouncing. Dash groaned.

“Rarity, this is a spa.”

“No, Dash, it's not just a spa. It is one of the best spas.” Rarity's face lit up as she described the Lotus Luxury
Spa. “Even in Fillydelphia, there are only a few establishments that pamper as well as this!”

“You know I don't like spas.”

“Again, wrong. You think you don't like spas.” Rarity held open the door with her magic, and they trotted into the foyer. The gentle sound of water trickling over stones filled the air, and some subtle scent teased at Dash's nose. Sandalwood, perhaps? “But today you will learn how wonderful they are.”

“You mean how boring they are.”

“Wonderful.”

“Boring!” Dash blew her bangs out of her eyes again. The damn things kept getting in the way. “Besides, I don't like ponies touching my hooves.”

Rarity rolled her eyes. It seemed like a practiced gesture with her. “No pony has to touch your hooves if you don't want, Dash. In fact, we don't have to do this. We can do something else if you'd like.”

Suddenly, the unease was back. “But... you want to do this, don't you?” she asked.

Rarity gave her a small nod. “Yes. And I think you'll enjoy it if you give it a chance.”

What else do you have to do? Dash's days lately were filled with lots of nothing much. Wake up in the morning, watch the Bolts practice, travel with them to their shows, sign autographs. Make up an excuse for the fans who wondered why she hadn't performed. Crash in some upscale hotel. Repeat. And now that the season was over, she didn't even have that. No wonder they'd begged her to travel. “It'll be good for you. Help you move on.”

Yeah, fat chance. She let out a slow breath and looked back at Rarity and her hopeful expression.

“Okay, I'll try it. But no frou-frou stuff!”

The look on Rarity's face alone was worth the trouble this would be. Even if they did touch her hooves.

“You won't regret this, darling.” Rarity gave her a quick nuzzle, then turned to the counter, which was currently unoccupied. She reached out with a hoof and tapped a tiny silver bell, filling the room with a loud, clear ring.

“Coming!” an exotic accent called to them. Sure enough, a moment later the curtain behind the counter parted, and a gorgeous cyan earth pony with a shell pink mane stepped out. She gasped when she saw her customers. “Miss Rarity! Welcome! Eet has been so long!”

Rarity bounced forward, leaning over the counter to exchange a nuzzle with the mare. “Hello, Lotus! I know, I know! Oh, is Aloe here?”

“Oui, oui. You are lucky, we have just opened for the day. Would you and Miss... Dash, is eet? Would you like to be our guests?”

“You have read our minds, darling. We'll take the works!”

* * *

“So, uh, what's the works?”

Rarity's ears perked up at Dash's question. It was the first sound either had made in several minutes, since being escorted into the baths where they were currently simmering. Dash had to admit that the bath, at least, was welcome – her matted coat was now evenly soaked in the hot water, and she could imagine her muscles slowly melting as the heat leached into her body. Her mane was plastered in colorful strings to her head and neck, reminding her just how long she'd allowed it to grow out. Maybe they could fix that here.

“Well, it starts with a nice long soak in the hot tub, as you've probably guessed,” Rarity said. She scooted along the side of the tub until her body was next to Dash's. “Then we'll get a quick splash of cold water to cool us off.”

“That doesn't sound very nice,” Dash said. Rarity's mane was spread out like a fan atop the water, close enough that the silken strands brushed up against Dash's coat. Even waterlogged, she looked beautiful.

“Well, truthfully, it isn't,” Rarity admitted. “But it's very bracing. Trust me, after enough time in this tub, you'll welcome it.”

“Mhm.” Dash doubted that, but whatever. “What next?”

“Then comes the massage, and I suggest you start with light pressure, dear. Much more pleasant.”

“Light pressure, got it.”

“Oh, and then there's the horn filing,” Rarity continued. “Twilight and I used to get that at least once a month. Keeps it nice and smooth, just the way the colts like it.” She giggled and ducked her snout under the water for a few heartbeats.

“Er...” Dash looked up, cross-eyed, at where her horn would be. “Okay. Let's pretend I'm not a unicorn, though.”

She felt a hoof jab her beneath the water. “Yes, yes. Fluttershy usually gets a preening and oiling. You'll probably want that. Finally, there's a hooficure, which you may skip if you so choose.”

And she would so choose, she was pretty sure. The rest didn't sound all that bad, though. “So, what now?”

“Now?” Rarity chuckled and settled back against the edge of the tub. She leaned to the side, just enough to press ever so lightly against Dash's shoulder. “We enjoy each other's company, and soak.”

Easy enough. Dash closed her eyes and rested the back of her head on the tile rim behind her. The warm water seemed to penetrate every sore muscle and tendon, every pore and every bone. The heat seeped in, and slowly, slowly, her cares leaked out. Rarity's soft presence against her side was like a living pillow, soft as any cloud. She worried, absently, that Rarity might not find her as soft.

She lost track of the time as they soaked in the tub. The drip-drip of water echoing in the steamy room and the slow cycle of breath next to her were the only markers of the passing seconds, and eventually they lulled her mind away.

She woke with a start when the door opened, as much from the sound as the rush of cold air that followed it. The steam blew away, and she saw Rarity blinking her eyes beside her.

“Are you ready, Miss Rarity?” Aloe asked. She trotted to the tub with a pair of bathrobes draped over her back.

“Mm, I do believe I am.” Rarity stretched and climbed out of the tub. “I'm starting to get positively pruney, in fact.” Her mane hung across her face like a curtain, framing her huge cyan eyes. She shivered into the offered bathrobe, then gave Dash a glance. “Coming, darling?”

“Er, sorry, yeah.” Dash hopped out of the tub and resisted the urge to shake like a dog. Her wings felt like a pair of huge, sodden mats against her back; the preening and oiling couldn't come too soon. She accepted the bathrobe and struggled into it with significantly less grace than Rarity.

Once Dash was properly clothed, Rarity and Aloe trotted a few steps away to another, smaller tub. Rarity promptly shrugged the bathrobe off, gave it back to Aloe, and jumped into the tub with a loud “Whoop!”

Dash blinked at the spectacle. She wasn't sure which was more amazing: that Rarity would deliberately jump into a pool of frigid water, or that she bothered to wear a bathrobe for the five-step journey to the other tub.

“Your turn, d-dear!” Rarity called. She had climbed out of the cold water and was wriggling back into the bathrobe. And wasn't that a sight.

“Um, can't I skip this part?” Dash asked. That water looked very cold.

“Oh, I suppose you can. I won't judge you for it, and I promise I won't tell the girls you were too... hm, what's the word... ah, prissy. Too prissy.”

So it was like that. Dash narrowed her eyes and shucked the bathrobe off. Prissy my ass! She dipped a hoof in the water, and immediately yanked it out. Cold! “Eee!”

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “It's best if you just jump in, darling.” A pause. “Prissy,” she added under her breath.

“Eet is not zat cold, Miss Dash,” Aloe added unhelpfully.

Dash huffed. Clearly there was no avoiding the pool with her ego intact. “Fine. If my heart stops, I'm haunting you, though.” With that she took a breath and jumped in.

She was wrong about the water. It wasn't cold. It was numbing. It was flying through a blizzard at twenty-thousand feet and feeling the ice accumulate in your feathers. It was crashing in the snow on a dark winter night with only the callous moon for company. There should have been a thick layer of ice on the tub. She gasped in shock and clawed her way out as fast as her hooves could carry her.

“Oh, seriously.” Rarity rolled her eyes. “It only feels cold because you were in the hot tub for so long. It's the same temperature as the Ponyville pond.”

That was a lie, Dash was sure. Somehow they had enchanted the water not to freeze. She pulled on the bathrobe and danced in place. “Okay, s-so, what next?”

“Next? Oh, the best part is next. Come along.” Rarity gave her a bump with her flank, and they followed Aloe out of the soaking room.

* * *

Next was the best part. Or, at least, it was better than the baths. Not that the baths were bad.

But this... yeah, this was bliss.

Rainbow Dash exhaled quietly as a pair of firm hooves pressed down on her back, forcing the air from her lungs. Right there, right between her wing joints, that was the best thing ever. The hooves pressed again, shimmying along the tight muscles that powered her flight, and a tiny moan escaped her mouth.

“Enjoying yourself, darling?” Rarity asked. She was prone on another mat just feet away from Dash, her white coat glistening in the dim light as one of the spa ponies – Aloe, maybe? She could never tell – worked a generous slathering of oil all across her body. Her mane was pulled to the side, revealing the long arc of her neck. Half-open eyes sparkling with humor matched the tiny smile on her mouth.

“Uh...” Dash had planned for a longer, more eloquent answer, but Lotus chose that moment to run the edges of her hooves down either side of her spine. The pressure teetered on the brink of pain, but her muscles rejoiced at the touch. Relief she hadn't known was possible washed over her like a wave, leaving a pleasant, warm buzz in her mind. It was like being drunk, but without any of the downsides.

“Uh?” Rarity's smile grew. “Can you be more specific, dear?”

“Um... s'good,” Dash managed. “How about... oh wow, that's good... uh, how about you?”

“Mmm, it makes me wish I'd come back to Ponyville more often.” A few seconds after speaking, Rarity's entire body gave a small jerk, and her eyes shot open. Aloe's hooves stopped moving.

“Oh, Miss Rarity, I am so sorry,” she said. “Was zat too hard?”

Rarity settled down almost immediately, but her eyes stayed open and alarmed for some reason Dash could not fathom. “Oh, no Aloe, of course not. I was just... thinking about something.”

Huh. Dash watched as Aloe resumed her expert massage. The hooves running along her own back were momentarily forgotten. Odd. Wonder what that was about. She might have pursued that thought further, but at that moment Lotus gently stretched her right wing out to its full extension, and pressed her hooves into the knot of muscle just beneath the joint. Oh Celestia! She's not even a pegasus! How does she know to do that?

“Careful Lotus,” she heard Rarity say. “It's her first time.” The spa ponies laughed along with Rarity.

And now Lotus was twisting her hoof, grinding it into the muscle. That was unfair. Dash held her breath as the pressure grew and grew until it was just on the near side of pain, then exhaled shakily as Lotus relented and gently folded her wing back to her side. She only had a moment to catch her breath before it was the left wing's turn.

“So, Dash.” Rarity was watching her again. Aloe straddled her rump, her forehooves slowly sliding up and down the unicorn's back. Thin runnels of oil painted shining streaks down her side. “I meant to ask last night at the party. Is there anypony special in your life?”

Are you dating yet, Dash mentally translated. She swallowed before answering. “Uh, you know, things have been busy with the team. And, well, it just feels kinda soon.”

Rarity gave a tiny nod. “I understand, dear. You should take all the time you need.”

They were quiet for a while. The only sound was their breathing, and the barely audible rustle of hooves sliding over oiled coats. Dash sank deeper and deeper into the mat, almost as if she were melting.

“But,” Rarity said, “it's not good to go without companionship for too long. Mares have needs.”

Oh, we're talking about that. Dash felt herself starting to blush, and glanced back at the spa ponies. They seemed entirely absorbed in their work.

“Don't worry, dear,” Rarity said. “Aloe and Lotus are the souls of discretion. You need never fear that anything we say will go beyond this room.” Both ponies nodded, their eyes wide and earnest.

“Oui, please, pretend we are not here,” Lotus whispered in her ear. “Just enjoy ze massage.”

The second part Dash could do. The first was a bit harder. She swallowed again and took some time to collect her thoughts. Above her, Lotus pressed her hooves into Dash's withers, gently kneading the stiff muscle until all the tightness and tension were wrung out.

“Well, uh...” The blush was coming back. She powered ahead regardless. “There are other ways to... get... that... you know. That thing you said.”

Rarity tittered. “Oh Dash, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. Forget I asked.”

“I'm not embarrassed!” It was a lie, and she was terrible at lying. Her face felt like it might catch on fire.

“Of course you aren't.” Rarity, apparently, could lie very well. Still, she didn't press the issue, and they were quiet again as the massage continued.

Lotus's hooves slowly worked their way up the side of Dash's neck, rubbing the flesh in little circles. They traced along her jaw and temples, and then they were on her scalp, tugging it this way and that.

“Miss Dash, your mane is so beautiful,” Lotus said. Her breath tickled at Dash's ear. “You should do more with eet.”

“Mm, I've told her that a million times,” Rarity said. Her head was turned away from Dash as Aloe worked on her neck. “Never listens, though.”

“I listen,” Dash said. I just don't care.

After some indeterminate amount of time, Lotus worked her way back to Dash's wings. Her hooves pressed into the long muscles along her spine, starting just above her hips and sliding all the way up to her neck. A moan, long suppressed, threatened to escape from her throat again. The motion repeated a few times, and each time the hooves ventured lower and lower down her back until they pressed down firmly, just above her tail. It felt like her hips would crack from the pressure. It felt incredible. And then...

“Whoa!” She jerked, her wings flaring in alarm. The hooves pressing against her rump instantly pulled away.

“I am sorry, Miss Dash. Do you not like zat?”

Rarity had turned her head to stare. “Oh, darling, it's a full body massage. Trust me, it feels divine.”

“Yeah, but...” No pony had touched her there since... Come on, it doesn't matter. It's just a massage. She settled her wings back to her side and lay her head down on the mat. “Heh, sorry, just startled me.”

“Eet is no problem, Miss Dash. Just relax.” Lotus waited for her to settle back into onto the mat, then pressed the soles of her hooves flat onto her rump and leaned forward, letting all of her weight compress the thick muscles. She held the pressure for several long seconds, long enough for Dash to start to squirm. Just as it began to hurt, the hooves lifted, and the release itself was almost as blissful as those first gentle touches. Lotus slid her hooves down Dash's thighs and pressed again, using slightly less of her weight this time.

Okay, yeah. That's pretty good. She chanced a look over at Rarity, who appeared to be a bit further along in her massage. Aloe carefully rolled Rarity's ankles between her hooves, then began squeezing her way up Rarity's leg. Dash expected Aloe to stop about mid-thigh, but no, the hooves kept moving up and up, until... She blinked. For a moment, Aloe's hooves had been as high up Rarity's leg as physically possible. Dash stared, wide-eyed, as Aloe repeated the movement on Rarity's other leg.

Rarity caught her staring. A tiny smile quirked the edge of her lips. “Relax, Dash. We're all mares here.”

Yeah, but... These spa ponies definitely weren't shy. She'd barely processed that thought when she felt Lotus's hooves begin squeezing their way up either side of her leg.

Massages. Who knew?

* * *

The baths were relaxing. The massage was... well, confusing was probably the best word for that experience. Enjoyable, yes, even blissful, but certainly not the back-rub she'd expected from hearing the girls talk. Definitely something to try again.

“Please lie down, Miss Dash,” Aloe said. The spa ponies had swapped customers after the massage was complete, and now Lotus was laying out a series of files and picks on a tray next to Rarity. Aloe, Rainbow Dash was relieved to see, had only a small brush and a bottle of what looked like oil.

Their new room was brighter and spacious, with room for several ponies and their attendants, rather than the dim cozy confines of the massage room. Apparently this next part wouldn't require as much privacy. That too was a source of relief. She tucked her hooves under her as she settled onto the indicated pad.

“Preening, right? You know how to do that?” Dash asked. Preening was one of the most important hygienic rites for pegasi. Although most of their flying power came from innate magic rather than the flow of air over their wings, flight was impossible unless their feathers were assiduously cared for. “Unhappy as a pegasus with ruffled feathers,” as the saying went. On any given day, Dash would spend up to an hour doing nothing but preening. It was a soothing experience, often shared among close friends, family or lovers.

And, apparently, spa ponies.

“Of course, Miss Dash. Eet is very popular, especially ze oiling.” Aloe indicated the bottle with a hoof, then settled down in front of her, offset just a bit to face her wing. “Please, relax your wing?”

Right, just like with Soarin. Dash sighed quietly at the thought, but extended her wing out to the side as requested. Aloe scooted closer, until her shoulder brushed against Dash's, and she carefully ran a hoof over the wing's leading edge.

“Such strong wings,” she said. “You are a very good flyer, oui?”

“Er, heh. Yeah, you could say that.” Dash put on a grin. Across the room, Rarity suddenly glanced at her. The expression on her face was an inscrutable mixture of emotions, but Dash could swear she seemed surprised. Their eyes locked for a moment, and then both looked away.

Aloe gave her wing another stroke, then leaned down and gently tugged at the feathers with her lips. The tiny covert feathers were still waterlogged from the bath, and Aloe deftly sluiced away the water with subtle motions, careful not to use her teeth. She slowly worked her way down the edge of Dash's wing, then started work on the larger secondary feathers. These she gave a little tug, pulling them back into alignment with their neighbors. The disordered, frazzled mass of feathers slowly smoothed back into a sleek, airworthy foil.

It was incredibly relaxing, even more than the massage. Each little tug on her feathers stimulated the blood vessels in her wing and sent tiny impulses racing along her nerves. A heady buzz slowly filled her chest, and her body reacted instinctively, demanding she lean forward and begin preening her partner as well. She started to dip her head toward Aloe's shoulder...

Except, of course, her partner had no wings. Aloe noticed her sudden hesitation and chuckled. “Eet is okay, Miss Dash,” she whispered. “Every pegasus does zat. I think eet is cute.”

Yeah. Rainbow Dash – cute. She cleared her throat and looked away so Aloe wouldn't see her blush. Her eyes settled on Rarity, who was engaged in some quiet conversation with Lotus while the spa pony ran a thin rasp along the fluting in Rarity's horn. Rarity eventually noticed Dash's gaze and gave her a small smile.

Aloe shifted sides and began preening Dash's other wing, giving each feather such devoted attention that Dash was convinced she'd had a pegasus lover at some point. Where else could an earth pony have learned this? It felt so good! She was still working up the courage to ask, many minutes later, when Aloe backed away to retrieve the bottle of oil and the tiny brush.

Hm, how does this work? She craned her head around as Aloe trotted behind her and took a seat. She set the bottle down at her hooves, uncapped it, dipped the brush in and began carefully painting drops of oil on the shaft of each of Dash's primaries. When each had been similarly touched, Aloe used the brush to work the oil down the feather's length, leaving it glistening like a jewel. By the time Aloe finished, her entire wing sparkled like a waterfall in the sunlight.

“Oh my, that looks simply stunning,” Rarity said from beside her. Apparently she was finished with her horn filing. “It looks beautiful on Fluttershy, of course, but it's just, well... it's so unexpected on you. I hope that's not insulting.”

“Heh, nah.” She gave her wing an experimental flap, setting the towels fluttering. “Feels weird.”

“Weird, bad?”

“No, just different. I'll get used to it.” She folded her wing and waited patiently while Aloe finished the other. “How long does it last?”

“A few days,” Aloe said. She recapped the bottle and set it back on the tray with the brush. “Less if you fly everywhere.”

Rarity gave her a quick glance. Dash pretended not to notice.

“Right. So...” She looked around for a cash register. “How much does all this cost?”

* * *

Rarity, of course, had been scandalized. “So gauche,” she'd said – whatever that meant – and treated Dash to a lengthy sotto voce lecture on the proper etiquette for “remunerating” professional service providers. And then she paid for them both. Dash still wasn't sure how much it cost.

“...but anyway, darling, I hope you enjoyed that little visit,” Rarity finally concluded. Dash tuned in just in time to hear the implied question.

“You know, Rares, it wasn't so bad.” In fact, it had been wonderful, but it was far too soon to admit she was wrong. Maybe in a few days.

“Mm, well, I'm relieved you didn't suffer too much on my behalf,” Rarity said. She had a sly smile on her face.

They walked together through Ponyville. The streets were far more crowded now than when they had first ventured out, filled with ponies shopping and working and simply enjoying the day. More than a few stallions cast glances their way. Dash tried to tell herself it was Rarity they were looking at.

“So, uh, what now?”

“Now?” Rarity tilted her head. Her lush mane bobbed against her neck. “Let's see what Pinkie is doing.”

* * *

First Pinkie Pie, then Twilight Sparkle, and finally Applejack and Fluttershy. They visited all their friends that afternoon, sharing snacks or books or cider or hugs. Rarity's squeal of delight when she saw Fluttershy still echoed in Dash's ears. The unicorn had spent nearly twenty minutes sitting next to Fluttershy, her ear pressed against the pegasus's abdomen as she listened to the tiny foal growing inside. When they finally left that evening, all of their cheeks were streaked with tears of happiness.

Except Applejack's, anyway. She just rolled her eyes at “all that girly stuff.” But that was just how Applejack was, and why they loved her too.

By the time they returned to the Carousel, night had begun to fall, and the sky above was a deep amethyst speckled with a thousand tiny jewels. Shadowed blots of clouds slowly faded into the uniform darkness of the sky, pushed along by a wind that also carried the rustle of autumn leaves and the scent of drying hay. Beside her, Rarity gave a little shiver.

Dinner was waiting for them in the form of a freshly cooked vegetable casserole. Sweetie Belle exchanged a quick nuzzle with her sister, a hug with Dash, and then started setting out plates. After a whisper from Rarity, she added a second helping of the casserole to Dash's plate.

Huh.

“So, how was your first day back?” Sweetie asked after the last bite of dinner had vanished from her plate. For some reason she had picked all the red peppers from her casserole and set them aside, uneaten, while she devoured the rest. Weird.

“Why, it was delightful! As wonderful as a day could be, darling,” Rarity said. “You won't believe what we did first, but Dash actually went to the spa with me! I know, isn't it amazing? I told you I'd get her in there someday, and believe me she actually enjoyed it. She didn't get a hooficure, alas, but as I always say, a mare has to take what she can get. Oh, it's been so long since I've enjoyed a good massage from the Lotus sisters. Yes, yes, the spas in Fillydelphia are quite adequate, I assure you, but there's something simply delightful about going to an establishment where you aren't just a customer, but a dear friend as well. And then! And then we went to visit the girls! I saw most of them yesterday at the party, of course, but we didn't have time to catch up on everything. It was just like old times, everypony was just like I remember... oh, but what am I saying? Fluttershy is pregnant! You knew that, of course, but this is the first time I've seen her. Oh, to think, our Fluttershy is going to be a mommy! Why, I'm getting teary again just thinking about it. She'll be just perfect, of course, I always knew she would be. She's the kindest of us, and she takes such good care of all the animals, and the Apple family has so much experience with foals... you know, sometimes I wonder what they put in the water out there. Every time I come back to visit it seems like some Apple mare or other is pregnant or nursing or there's another foal running around. Maybe it's the stallions? Hm, now isn't that a thought. But anyway, to answer your question, our day was simply delightful.” With that she drew silent, and took a tiny sip from her water.

Sweetie nodded along with Rarity's monologue. “I see. And Rainbow Dash, how was your day?”

“Eh, it was fine.”

“Fine is good.” Sweetie grinned at her answer.

Rarity shot a pout in Dash's direction. “Just fine, darling? Can't you say more than that?”

“Well...” Dash thought for a moment. “All that stuff Rarity said was cool, too.”

“Again, your eloquence stuns me,” Rarity deadpanned. “Let me help you with those, Sweetie.” She and her sister fussed over the dirty plates, each insisting the other allow them to clean up. Eventually they wrestled the china and silverware into the kitchen while Dash watched helplessly.

They spent the next few hours engaged in idle chit-chat in Rarity's old parlor, now redecorated with musical scores, trophies and medals from Sweetie Belle's budding career as a singer. She'd added several bookshelves as well – nowhere near as many as Twilight's library, of course, but nevertheless it was one of the largest private collections of books Dash had seen in Ponyville. She probably had more than Fluttershy.

Scanning the titles while the sisters talked, Dash realized she had a much more literate collection as well. Volumes of poetry, treatises and essays on musical theory, biographies of prominent musicians, all much higher-brow than Fluttershy's romance novels. She pulled a familiar book of poems from the shelf and trotted over to the couch with it in her mouth. From the sound of their discussion, Sweetie and Rarity were keeping themselves entertained.

For most of an hour she flipped through the book, nodding occasionally in time with the conversation or proffering answers to the few questions directed her way, while Sweetie and Rarity caught up on a year spent apart.

Eventually their was a pause in their conversation. Dash looked up to see Rarity and Sweetie looking at her. “Er, sorry. Say again?”

“I said, did you find a Daring Do novel over there?” The ghost of a smile played on her lips.

“Oh, heh, Daring Do...” Dash thought back for a moment to the happy memory of those books. “You know, I haven't read one of those books in years. I dunno if they even still write them.”

“Mm, what's that, then?” Rarity seemed genuinely curious now. She tilted her head at the book cradled in Dash's forelegs.

“Just some poems.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow. Sweetie Belle glanced over at the bookshelf Dash had retrieved the collection from, a thoughtful look on her face.

“I didn't know you enjoyed such... cultured pastimes,” Rarity said.

Dash was slow to answer. She ran a hoof over the page. “Soarin' was really into poetry,” she eventually said. “He used to take all kinds of crap for it from the other Bolts, but it never seemed to bother him. Said that poetry was truth, that it could 'express things for which mere words would always find themselves shallow and lacking.'” She looked down at the book and began to read.

“Up, up the long delirious, burning blue,
I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew -
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untresspassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hoof and touched the face of God.”

When Dash looked up, both Sweetie Belle and Rarity were staring at her, as if they were seeing an entirely new mare. She fidgeted with her hooves. “What?”

“Sorry, that's just... well, very unexpected,” Rarity said. “You've changed since we left Ponyville. Grown up, if you don't mind my saying.”

She shrugged. “We all have, Rares. That's just life.” She closed the book and walked it back to the bookshelf, putting it back in the hole left by its removal. Wow, what a depressing thought. Way to kill the mood.

The mood wasn't, in fact, killed, but she'd certainly brought the conversation to a close. When she turned back to the room, Sweetie had climbed to her hooves and was yawning.

“Sorry girls,” she said. “Unlike you, I've got to get up at a reasonable hour tomorrow. Don't fight over the couch.” She added the last with a smirk and turned toward the stairs.

“Of course not,” Rarity said. “I shall take the couch. Dash, you sleep upstairs.”

What? No. “I'll take the couch. You slept on it last night.”

“It's my house, darling, and you're the guest. I insist you sleep in the bed.”

“Actually, it's my house,” Sweetie called from the stairs. “But I'd let her take the couch, Dash. She won't stop bothering you otherwise.”

Well, fine. Too generous for her own good, sometimes.

Rarity smirked at her, then trotted over and nudged her toward the stairs. She glanced up at Sweetie's retreating form, then leaned over and whispered, “Don't go to bed just yet. I'll be right up.”

Dash raised an eyebrow, but only got another bump on the flank for her trouble. She shrugged and trotted upstairs, feeling her way by memory through the dark hallway to Sweetie Belle's old room. The streetlights outside cast orange squares on the walls, and made it easy for her to find the bed. She settled onto the covers, her legs tucked under her, and waited.

Less than a minute passed before a gentle knock sounded from the door, and Rarity poked her head in. She saw Dash on the bed, then entered and closed the door behind her. Her horn was glowing with enough light to scatter faint shadows across the room, and a pair of empty glasses floated beside her.

“Hello again, darling. One moment, I know it's in one of these bags...” Rarity opened up one of her suitcases, all of which were still stacked in the room. After a bit of digging she made a delighted “aha!” and trotted over to the bed, followed now by two empty glasses and a tall clear bottle.

Whoa. “Is that what I think it is?” Dash squinted in the darkness at the label.

Rarity tittered. “It is! Grey Pegasus. I'd have opened it downstairs, but Sweetie's a bit too young for this, even if she thinks she's a full grown mare.” She popped the cap off the vodka, then poured a shot for each of them. Her horn glowed brighter for a moment, and an icy blue light surrounded the glasses.

“There. Let it sit for a moment while it chills.” She resealed the bottle and set it by her side, then climbed up on the bed next to Dash. Their sides brushed together, just like in the bath.

“Heh, thanks.” Dash snagged the drink with her hooves and blew on it. A faint tracing of frost built up on the glass where her breath touched it. “Shall we toast?”

“We shall.” Rarity held up her glass. “To dear friends, now and forever?”

Sure, why not. Dash clinked her glass against Rarity's. “To dear friends, now and forever,” she repeated, then tossed back the shot.

Good stuff, Grey Pegasus. She squinted her eyes as the freezing liquid burned its way down her throat, and let out a shaky breath. Beside her, Rarity underwent a similar set of convulsions.

“Oh my, that's stronger than I remember.” She gave another little shake, her coat rubbing against Dash's as she did. “Another?”

Of course. Dash grinned and held her glass out. Rarity topped her off and did that magic-cooling thing, and they clinked their drinks together again. Rather than shooting them back, they sipped at the vodka this time. It was so cold it barely had any taste unless she held it in her mouth until it began to burn. Within minutes she felt the start of a pleasant buzz behind her eyes. Damn, this is strong.

Rarity seemed to be in about the same place. The haughty tilt she normally carried in her head and neck was gone, and in the darkness she looked like a normal – albeit beautiful – mare. She casually sipped at her drink, closing her eyes with each swallow.

“I'm sorry if I offended you earlier, dear,” Rarity said, once their glasses were empty. Without asking she popped the bottle and refilled them both. “About the poems. I didn't mean to imply you weren't literate.”

“Oh, heh. No worries.” Dash couldn't help the grin on her face. It was just like Rarity to worry about something like that. “I never would've thought I'd be into that kinda stuff, back when we lived here.”

They were quiet again as they sipped at their drinks. The alcohol was starting to make her a bit giddy, and she felt herself relaxing, just as she had in the baths that morning. Rarity made a pleased sound and leaned more of her weight against her.

“Poetry was one of the things that made Soarin so great,” she continued. “He was... well, he was incredible.” She swirled the remains of her drink in the glass.

Rarity didn't answer her for some time. Outside, the streetlight finally went out, and the room was plunged into darkness, broken only by the faint glow of Rarity's horn. “He seemed like a wonderful stallion. I'm... I'm sorry I didn't get to know him more.”

“He'd have liked you,” Dash said. She felt her eyes starting to water, and forced the tears back. I will not cry. I will not cry. I am a Wonder Bolt. I will not cry.

“I'm sure.” Rarity gave a quiet sniffle, and took the final sip from her drink. She set the empty glass and the half-full bottle aside. “We were so happy for you. We never... well, I never thought you'd be the first of us to find somepony.”

Yeah, you and me both. Dash downed the last of the vodka, relishing the way it burned. Rarity took it without asking and set it by the others.

“I don't know if anypony told you,” Rarity continued. Her voice had lost its usual society lilt, and was more of a murmur than Dash had ever heard from her. “But afterward, Twilight wanted to ask you to come back and live here for a while. Maybe with her, maybe with Applejack... any of us would have been glad to let you in.”

That was news. Dash blinked a few times and considered the unicorn resting against her side. “Why didn't she?”

There was a pause before she answered. “You were... well, we spoke with Spitfire first. She said it'd be best if you stayed with the Bolts. They'd take care of you, she said.”

And they had. The Bolts had done everything to help her get through the roughest parts. They canceled shows for her. “They did.” She paused to clear her throat. “But I'm glad you wanted to help. I really am.”

Rarity was crying now. Dash couldn't see the tears in the darkness, but the sound was unmistakable. “I just... I just thought you should know.”

I will not cry. I will not cry. I am a Wonder Bolt. I will not cry.

The silence returned, and Dash thought she might have fallen asleep. Her own eyes closed, and she started to drift off as well. The slow-breathing weight by her side was a warm anchor against the night.

“Dash?”

Not asleep after all. Dash yawned and struggled through the cotton in her mind to respond. “Hm?”

“Why... why haven't you been flying?”

Ah. “Ask me tomorrow, Rares.”

There was no answer. The darkness became complete, and she slept.

* * *

A pair of hooves clamped over her eyes. “Guess who?” Soarin's voice said behind her.

Rainbow Dash chuckled. He never got tired of this joke. “Spitfire?”

“Hm, nope, more handsome. Try again!”

“Oh, definitely Cloud Fire, then.” Dash tried to turn around, but he had her in a pretty good grip. She could probably break free, but that would require escalating things to a level of controlled violence that wasn't appropriate just yet. Besides, she was still sleepy, and the bed was very comfortable.

The body wrapped around her scoffed. “What, him? You're kidding.”

“Oh no. He's definitely the most handsome stallion I know.” She grinned. “Such strong muscles, beautiful mane, and that body... oh, that body. Yeah, I'd do that.”

“Well, guess again anyway.”

“Aw. Can you pretend to be Cloud Fire, then? I'm stuck with some loser stallion.”

“You know, you're not helping my feelings of inadequacy here.” The hooves vanished, and she rolled over to come face-to-face with her lover. Soarin gave her a mock wounded look.

“Oh, you're saying you feel inadequate? Not quite performing up to standard?” She ran a hoof over his broad chest, enjoying the feel of firm muscle beneath his coat.

“Well, you have such demanding standards.” He gave her snout a lick. “Oh, and happy birthday.”

Aw, crap. She made a face. “Is it? How do you remember that stuff?”

“A miraculous invention known as a 'calendar.' If you're good, I'll show you how it works one day.”

“Uh huh. If I'm good.” She snuggled a bit closer, a wicked grin on her face, and pushed her hoof lower, down his tight belly and between his legs. He gave a little jerk as she found his balls and fondled them gently. Not too hard – he didn't like that. Something about “horrible pain that only a stallion can know,” as he'd put it after one of their wrestling matches came to an premature end. Her grin grew a bit wider.

“Yes, good. Good and kind,” he added. He breath was coming a bit faster, and she could feel the tension radiating from him.

“When have I ever been unkind?” she purred, then leaned forward for a kiss. Their tongues danced playfully together. His hoof began tracing its way along her side, and she felt his cock slowly emerging from its sheath. She gave his balls a little tug, just for fun, and pushed him onto his back. He didn't resist, and she rolled atop him, never breaking the kiss.

“Well, sometimes you're more kind than others,” he said when their kiss broke.

“Mhm. Well, let me know how I'm doing.” She gave his chin a little nip, then slowly worked her way down his body, placing tiny bites along his neck and shoulders and chest and belly, until her chin bumped against his cock, now fully aroused and demanding her attention.

And who was she to ignore such demands? She glanced up at his face for a moment, grinned, then placed a kiss on the head of his shaft. It jerked against her lips, as though excited to meet her. She nearly burst into laughter at the thought.

“What's so funny?” he asked. His voice sounded strained.

“Nothing,” she lied. Her tongue darted and licked at his head, drawing an arousing series of moans from him. Her tail twitched involuntarily as her own nethers began to grow hot. She opened her mouth and closed her lips around him, rubbing vigorously at his shaft with her tongue.

He seemed to enjoy that, if his gasps were any indication. His hooves ran through her mane, rubbed her ears and neck, and generally tried to distract her from the important business of suckling the tip of his cock. This lasted for a few minutes, as his squirming grew more intense and her crotch grew hotter and wetter.

“Dash!”

“Mm?” She would have said more, but her mouth was preoccupied.

“If you don't... whoa... if you don't stop, you're going to make a mess.”

Hm. She didn't want to make a mess. Yet, anyway. With some reluctance she let his cock slip free. A thin tendril of saliva hung from her lips for a moment before breaking, and she gave him a pout.

“Too kind?” she asked.

“Something like that.” He pushed her off to the side, then rolled over on top of her. The movement wasn't as violent or sudden as some of their wrestling, and she went along willingly. As always, her heart screamed at her to fight him, to bite and kick and punch until she was back on top, but then his teeth found her neck for a tiny nip, and those feelings fled in the face of rapacious desire. The heat pouring from her groin seemed to double, and she could feel the moisture collecting between her lips.

And then he was biting her again, lower and lower. Her chest, her belly, her nipples. She wound her hooves in his
mane and tried pushing his head lower, but he would not be rushed. He kissed the inside of her thigh, so close to that desperate spot but ignoring it still. He nuzzled her crotch, teasing her with his nose and chin. A free hoof found her tail and gave it a gentle tug, and her howl was loud enough to be heard several clouds over. Do it! Do it do it do it what are you waiting for do it!

He did. His tongue licked up the length of her slit, pressing with enough force to part her lips and rasp delightfully against her nub. She choked on her own breath as a spike of pleasure shot from her groin straight to her brain. Her entire body jerked, out of her control.

He licked her again. Again. His lips teased her labia, tugging them apart and exposing more of her wet flesh to his tongue. He tugged at her tail again, and at the same moment slid his tongue inside her. The twin sensations tore through her, and she shook with what she hoped would be merely the first climax of the day.

When she recovered her senses, he was above her again. His mouth pressed against hers, and she felt the head of his cock nestled between her lips. She felt him tense, and suddenly he was thrusting, penetrating her. Her lips parted to accept him eagerly, uncomplaining, and the sudden, massive, unrelenting presence inside her nearly sent her over the edge again.

Normally she would have bucked against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. But so soon after her own orgasm, there was little she could do but lie there as he pounded into her. He barely lasted a minute before his thrusts became hurried and uneven, and with a final cry that set her ears ringing spent himself inside her.

They lay there awhile, him atop her, panting. Sweat slowly dried on her coat. He turned his head to place his muzzle against her ear, and whispered—

* * *

Rainbow Dash opened her eyes. The weight against her side was not Soarin, of course, but for a moment she almost imagined he was back. Rarity mumbled something plaintive in her sleep and twitched. Apparently she was given to dreams as well.

It was some time before she slept.

Set in Stone

Rarity woke feeling warmer and safer than she had in quite some time.

She lifted her head slowly, so as not to disturb the pony sleeping next to her. Rainbow Dash was still dead to the world, sprawled out on her back as though she were trying to cover as much of the bed with her body as possible. Each of her six limbs somehow pointed in a different direction, and her tongue lolled out of her open mouth. Quiet snores filled the room as her chest rose and fell.

She looks so peaceful. Like the pain that everypony could see around her had fled while she slept. Rarity reached out and carefully brushed a few strands of that garish mane away from her face. Dash's ear twitched as her hoof brushed it, but her sleep continued undisturbed.

It didn't look like Dash would wake very easily, which was perfect for Rarity's purposes. She slowly eased her way toward the sleeping pegasus, and in the stark light of morning took a long look at Dash's body.

She probably weighed less than Sweetie Belle. Pegasi were slight creatures as a rule, but Rainbow Dash existed at the extreme end of the spectrum. Her coat stretched taut over bone and muscle, with not an ounce of fat anywhere on her frame. Rarity could count her ribs when she inhaled. The twin arches of her pelvis were clearly visible above her cutie mark, even lying down. Every single muscle in her legs and back showed through her skin.

She wasn't starving. She wasn't emaciated. Spare. Lean. Hard. Rarity frowned at each thought. They were all correct, but none of them could sum the pony sleeping in front of her. Even for a sleek, speedy racing machine, this couldn't be healthy. There was trim, and there was this: iron bands wrapped around a wood frame. Rarity prodded her shoulder with a hoof; even asleep, Dash was stiff as clay.

We have time. Make sure she eats. Stuff her if you have to. Get Pinkie to help. Good ideas, all. Rarity hummed quietly, her mind spinning with dozens of plots and schemes to add a bit more flesh to Dash's bones and hopefully draw her back into the world as well. Ideas to pull her out of the well she had fallen into. Rarity was no psychologist, but she could tell when a mare had problems.

Yes, you have a lot of practice with that. Maybe you should put some energy into solving your own—

Rarity coughed, then froze as the sound seemed to stir Dash. The pegasus mumbled something, twitched her ears around and rolled onto her stomach, which was quite a process with those wings. Rarity ducked to avoid an errant wingtip.

Slowly, carefully, Rarity crept out of bed. It was a skill she had plenty of practice with, though not one she would have bragged about. This time, there was no shame, though; no desperate eagerness to escape from a nameless stallion who was nothing to her but a cock and a resemblance to a certain prince. This time, she simply wanted her friend to enjoy her sleep. When all four hooves were safely on the floor, she smiled to herself and padded to the door.

Now for the second part of her act. She peeked out the bedroom door across the hall. Sweetie Belle's door was still closed. She let out a silent sigh of relief and trotted down the hall and stairs to the parlor. She could catch a few more winks on the couch, and no pony would be the wiser when they finally woke. Assuming, of course, that Dash could keep her mouth shut. She'd have to sneak a quick word with the pegasus before Sweetie had a chance to—

“Good morning, Rarity!” Sweetie Belle's high voice was filled with joy. The kind of joy that came from catching one's sister red-hoofed in the act of something embarrassing.

Well, pony feathers.

“Good morning, darling!” Rarity spun in place, her face as serene as ever. Not even the barest hint of evasion could be heard in her words. “Why, I didn't realize you were up already. I was just upstairs checking on Rainbow Dash, to make sure the poor dear is well.”

“Mhm. I wondered where you were when I came down.” Sweetie glanced at the conspicuously empty couch, a huge, victorious grin on her face. She was sitting at the kitchen table and had a large spread already laid out for them. Waffles, again. Rarity's figure was in for a bit of a ride, it seemed. “And how is Dash? Awake yet?”

“Ah, she's still asleep, actually. I didn't want to wake her.” Rarity kept her face composed. She could still win this. Ignoring her sister's grin, she took a seat at the table. “Thank you for setting out breakfast, by the way.”

“Oh, it's the least I can do for my guests. But you can imagine my surprise when I came down and didn't see you on the couch!” Sweetie's eyes went wide. “I was worried. I had no idea where you were!”

Rarity sighed. At least the waffles looked good. She took a dainty bite from one. Not bad at all.

“I was so relieved when you walked down the stairs,” Sweetie continued. Her face twisted into a look of mock confusion. “But, wait a minute! If I was down here, and you were up there, then—“

“Oh, fine,” Rarity said. “I slept upstairs. We both did. And it was harmless. Just two mares sharing a bed.”

“Of course. Harmless.” Sweetie polished off another waffle in three bites. Still at that age when she could eat anything without worrying about her flanks. Rarity sniffed quietly and took another small bite.

“Why, you and Rainbow Dash!” Sweetie continued. “That's just silly.”

“Completely silly,” Rarity agreed. There was nothing between her and Dash but the love of a true friend. So maybe she'd had a few fantasies about the mare, but that was hardly unusual. Dash was such an exotic, athletic specimen of a pegasus; why, it was perfectly natural to imagine a bit of fun with her in bed.

Dash opened her eyes, surprised, as Rarity gently pushed away her hoof, exposing her crotch. Her lips, wet and shining, lay open like the petals on a flower.

Rarity blinked. True, she had never imagined such things about any of her other friends, and she'd certainly never pleasured herself while doing so. Why was her mind filled with such lascivious images of Rainbow Dash? What was it about that crude, crass, obnoxious, egotistical, stubborn, brave, loyal pony that made her think such dirty things? Rainbow Dash rolled onto her back, her legs splayed obscenely wide, hiding absolutely nothing. Thick, clear fluid slathered—

“Rarity?” Sweetie's broke Rarity's reverie. The smug amusement had fled from her voice.

“Er, yes, dear?” Rarity looked up sharply, her usual smile back on her face.

“You, uh, you looked like you were thinking about something really hard, there.”

“I was just...” Just what, exactly? Sorry, darling, I was just imagining Rainbow Dash panting with arousal, my tongue halfway up her— No, that wouldn't do at all. She coughed into her hoof before continuing. “Just thinking about what I should do today. Can you... can you keep a secret?”

Sweetie raised an eyebrow. The expression seemed oddly familiar on her face, and it took Rarity a moment to remember where she saw it so often – the mirror. She took a sip from her juice to hide her momentary lapse before speaking.

“Yes, of course you can. It's about Dash.” Rarity glanced upstairs. All quiet. “You probably noticed, but she's not doing very well.”

“We all noticed. If it weren't for the mane I wouldn't have recognized her.” Sweetie frowned down at her breakfast. “It's been six months. Isn't that, you know... enough time?”

“I don't know, dear.” Rarity lowered her voice to a whisper. “But she needs more help than she's getting in Cloudsdale. Can she stay here for a few more days? I think being around friends will help her.”

“Of course, sis. As long as you need.”

Rarity frowned. “As long as she needs.”

“Right, that's what I meant to say.” Sweetie's face was a study in innocence.

Right. Rarity held the frown for a moment longer, then returned to her breakfast. The waffles were sinfully delicious, and—blueberries! Rarity sucked in a little breath when she saw a bowl full of the little fruits and promptly spooned a heap of them onto her plate. Fresh blueberries were almost impossible to get in Fillydelphia. Sweetie grinned at her across the table, and except for the sound of contented munching, they were quiet as they ate.

“So, what are you doing today?” Sweetie dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.

“Oh, I was going to see if any of the girls had some time for us. You know, just to hang out.” Rarity scratched her chin with her hoof. “Maybe they'll want to go to the spa?”

“Uh, that might be a little too soon for Dash,” Sweetie said. “Besides, I've got a better idea.”

“Really? Well, don't keep me in suspense.”

“Go visit Pinkie.”

Rarity waited for more. Sweetie simply smiled at her. Rarity sighed and was about to press for details when hoofsteps caught her ear. They turned to the stairs, which Rainbow Dash was descending in all her disheveled glory. The pegasus saw them and gave a sleepy wave with her wing.

“Uh, hey girls. Ooh, waffles!” Dash sped up her trot to the table, took the third seat and immediately tore into her plate. Rarity could only watch in awe as she seemingly inhaled her food.

“Morning, Dash!” Sweetie said. That accursed grin was back on her face. “Sleep well?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah we slept just fi—” Her mouth closed with an abrupt clack of teeth, and her eyes darted back and forth between Rarity and Sweetie.

“She knows,” Rarity grumbled. “I already told her. I also told her that nothing happened.” She directed the last few words at her sister, who sniffed.

“Heh, yeah.” Dash took another bite and swallowed most of it before continuing. “You and me! Can you imagine?”

Vividly, as it happened.

* * *

Sweetie said nothing more about Pinkie Pie or her plans for the day, and Rarity couldn't invent any plausible excuses to grill her for details, not with Dash sitting there listening. Instead they made more small talk about the town and the changes it had gone through. There was word of adding new rail routes, or maybe just putting more trains on the tracks that already connected Ponyville to Fillydelphia and Canterlot. New roads had been mooted at city council meetings – not dirt paths like they currently had, but actual streets with cobblestones, just like in the big cities.

There was even talk of adding a real cloud neighborhood above the town. Although Ponyville had always been known as an earth pony town, enough pegasi were living here now that a permanent place for them in the sky was warranted. As permanent as anything was with pegasi, Rarity mused.

Dash nodded along, but had nothing to say on the subject of clouds or homes therein. Sweetie Belle, dear insightful Sweetie Belle, didn't press her.

In short order Rarity found herself walking through the bustling streets again, with Dash trotting along by her side. Ponies waved or smiled at them, perhaps fondly remembering their years as some of Ponyville's most famous residents. Or, she considered, they might simply be grateful for the excuse to have held such a huge party. Not that Pinkie really needed excuses.

“So, darling, did you have any plans for the day?” Rarity cast a glance over her shoulder at Dash. By all rights, the pegasus should have been floating everywhere, unable to use her hooves for more than a few seconds at a time. Walking was as unnatural to the old Rainbow Dash as it would have been for a fish.

Still need to ask her about that.

“Eh, not really.” Dash gave her a casual, fluid shrug. “Anything's fine, you know?”

“Mm, how about we see what the girls are doing?” Rarity made a show of looking around, her gaze stopping on Sugarcube Corner. It was a ruse, of course; she'd waited to ask the question until they were less than a block away. “I'll bet Pinkie's in.”

“Huh, okay. You think she's busy?” Dash gave the bakery a look, then began trotting toward it.

Ask Sweetie, apparently she knows something. Rarity stepped quickly to catch up. “Well, no more than usual, I'd imagine. Unless there's some great rush for cakes all of a sudden, she should have time for us.”

With that thought in mind, Rarity pushed open the door and entered pandemonium.

The bakery was chaos. Rows of carts held trays stacked with fruit pastries and a hundred flavors of donuts and flaky croissants drizzled with chocolate and cakes iced with a dozen rainbow colors and pies crusted with nuts. Tall rolling shelves held bushels of baklava glistening with honey or countless cannoli oozing thick whipped cream from their necks. A mountain of fudge sat on its own table in the corner, brooding over the shop like a sinfully rich dark lord. But more than the sights were the overwhelming smells: the frothy warm tease of milk, the tantalizing tug of sugar browned into gooey caramel delightfulness, the pure happiness of baking bread tapping away at her mind, whispering, “Yes, I know I'm not good for you. I'm such a baaad little thing. But one tiny bite won't hurt, will it?”

No, no it wouldn't. Rarity's eyes went on another long tour of the bakery. Her normal disdain for fatty snacks mewled on the floor of her mind, shocked into impotence.

“Whoa,” Dash said beside her. She hadn't even heard the pegasus come in. “I think she is busy, Rares.”

Busy or... something. Rarity stepped into the room. Around her were enough sweets and treats to feed the kingdom. The laden tables seemed to sag under their weight. A cupcake pyramid with at least a thousand individual cupcakes dominated the center of the room. At the very top sat a maraschino cherry, a shining red beacon apparently placed to warn away pegasi who flew too close.

“Busy?!” The sudden voice contained equal measures of shock and laughter. They turned to see Pinkie Pie poking her head over the counter, a white chef's hat perched high atop her mane. “Baking isn't busy, sillies! It's fun!” Her head vanished below the counter (except for the hat, which was too tall to conceal), and a moment later Pinkie trotted out to greet them, weaving her way around the carts and tables and occasional free-standing chocolate sculpture.

“Hey Pinks.” Dash bumped hoofs with her, then turned to the opulent display around them. “What's with the, uh, everything?”

“The festival, of course!” Pinkie looked between them with a huge grin that slowly faded in the face of their silence. “You know, the harvest festival?”

More silence. Dash and Rarity exchanged a glance. “Is that, like, a party or something?” Dash finally ventured.

Pinkie let out a dramatic sigh. The chef's hat atop her mane wavered dangerously with the deep bob of her head. “Oh, Dashie,” she said with the tone one might use on a foal who had just committed a social faux pas. “A festival's not a party. It's a festival!”

Ah, how she had missed Pinkie's particular brand of logic. Rarity counted to three before speaking. “Yes, dear, we understand that. What is this festival for, though?”

Pinkie gasped with her usual theater. “What is it for? What is it for?! The most important harvest of the year, sillies!” She paused, suddenly silent in thought. “Well, the only harvest of the year, I guess. But that makes it even more important!”

“Is that, like, new?” Dash asked. “Pretend we've been gone a few years.”

“Hm.” Pinkie scratched at her chin. “Yup! This is the third annual harvest festival! Have you... have you really been gone that long?” The usual frenetic energy in her voice seemed to die, replaced by the high, soft pitch of wonder and melancholy.

Even longer. Rarity hid the frown that tried to mar her face. “I suppose we have, Pinkie. But that's just life, I'm afraid. We can't stay fillies forever. The world called us, and we answered.”

“Yeah, but Ponyville will always be your home, right?” Pinkie stared at her with wide, hopeful eyes.

Lie. Make her feel better.

Rarity smiled. “Of course, dear. Why, the moment I stepped off the train, it felt just like old times.”

“Heh, yeah.” Dash smiled a smile that looked anything but happy. “Just like home.”

Pinkie looked between them, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Then, just as quickly, she was all smiles again. Her face filled with the joy and laughter forever bubbling in her soul, and she spun between them, draping an arm over each of their shoulders. “Oh, you girls! Of course Ponyville will always be your home. And that makes this your first harvest festival!”

There, all better. You're so generous.

“So, Pinkie.” Rarity lifted Pinkie's arm from her shoulder and stepped away. “Tell us about this festival? Is all of this,” she waved a hoof at the feast around them, “for it?”

“Yup!” Pinkie danced away, leaving Dash unbalanced for a moment. She spun around the tables of treats as she spoke, pointing to this particular marvel or that. “Every family makes something for the festival! Applejack brings cider, Bon Bon brings candies, Carrot Top brings... well, carrots. Twilight brings books.” She paused to sigh quietly and shake her head. “And the Cakes bring dessert! Everypony in town will be there!”

“Nice. When is it?” Dash stepped around a heap of danishes to inspect a sculpture as large as she was. The dark chocolate was carved in the shape of a pegasus, mortally wounded by a candy spear. Chocolate syrup ran from its wounds and collected in a small tray at its base, where some hidden mechanism recirculated it through the statue. She stuck a hoof in the molten flow and licked it clean. “Mm, not bad!”

“It used to be on the day before Nightmare Night, but Mayor Mare said that made things too busy.” Pinkie walked up beside Dash and handed her an orange slice. “Try that with the chocolate. Anyway, now it's held on the equinox.”

“The equinox?” Rarity blinked. “You mean, tomorrow?”

“Yup!” She handed Dash another orange slice, and another, then finally just gave her the rest of the orange. “Jeez, Dash. Don't they feed you enough in Cloudsdale?”

Dash ducked her head. “Well, uh, you know... flying takes a lot of energy.”

Rarity squinted at her, and Dash suddenly found something of interest on the far side of the room. Pinkie glanced between them, a vaguely confused look on her face.

“Anyway, we didn't mean to bother you on such a busy day,” Rarity said to break the awkward silence. “We'll let you get back to—”

“Bother!” Pinkie was in Rarity's face so fast she must have teleported. “Silly, friends are never a bother! Especially when they can help bake!”

Rarity blinked. Her sister's words, “Go visit Pinkie,” sounded in her mind. “I'm sorry, dear. Help bake?”

“Uh huh!” Pinkie began dragging Rarity past the counter into the kitchen. Dash followed along behind them with a bemused expression. “With the three of us working together, we'll be done in no time!”

* * *

“No.”

“But Rarity...” Pinkie whined.

“No.” Rarity set her hoof down on the floor. “I will help you bake. I will wear the apron. I will even get my hooves dirty with syrup!” She held a foreleg up to her head, her eyes closed to mime a swoon. “But I will not, repeat not, wear that hat.”

Pinkie seemed to deflate, a sorrowful pout dragging down her face. The dejected chef's hat in her hooves, so recently offered to Rarity, sagged down to the floor as if in equal despair.

And just as quickly she was back up, the chef's hat extended to Rainbow Dash. “Dashie, would you like to—”

“Sure!” Dash snagged the hat with her teeth and flipped it up into the air, managing to catch it perfectly atop her head. “Heh, neat! Look, Rares! I'm a chef!”

That remained to be seen. Rarity chuckled and shook her head, then trotted around the huge island counter to the stove. At some point while she was in Fillydelphia, the Cakes had invested in a new kitchen, and now they boasted one of the most complete collections of culinary equipment Rarity had ever seen. A massive stainless steel range dominated the room, flanked by cupboards and pantries filled with every imaginable ingredient. Barrels – actual barrels – filled with flour and sugar were stacked higher than she was. More chocolate than she had ever seen in her life occupied an entire closet. She could only guess what the ingredients stuffed into the dozens of casks and tins and cans were used for.

“So, what are we making?” she asked.

“Five hundred banana nut muffins!” came the muffled reply. Rarity turned to see Pinkie's rump and bushy tail sticking from a pantry. A moment later the rest of the pony emerged, dragging a huge sack of flour behind her. She pulled it over to the counter where the rest of the ingredients already waited. “You know how to bake muffins, right?”

Rarity thought back to her own attempts at baking with her sweet little sister.

“Rarity! The fire department's here again!” Sweetie called from outside.

“Ugh! Tell them I just need a minute!” she called back. The thick black smoke pouring from the stove made it hard to see, but she was fairly sure the timer had less than thirty seconds left.

“Ask if they would like some cookies!”

There was a moment's pause from outside. Something loud popped in the oven, and the torrent of smoke doubled. She crouched a bit lower, where the air was still breathable.

"They say you need to leave now!” Sweetie's voice returned.

She scowled. “Fine, but if these are underdone, it's their fault!”

“Of course I do, darling,” she said. “Why, baking is just like sewing. You take your ingredients and stitch them together. Then, uh, toss them in the oven.” She looked down at the sack of flour and gave it a little frown. That metaphor needed a bit of work.

“Great!” Pinkie turned to Dash. “Dashie, can you bake?”

“Not at all!”

“Great!” Apparently, either response was great for Pinkie. She dug through a drawer of implements and pulled out a mallet. “Can you break walnuts?”

“Can I?!” Dash grabbed the mallet between her jaws and stared around the room, looking for unfortunate walnuts to assault. Pinkie pointed to a sack in the corner, and Dash was on it in a flash. Within moments the loud crack of walnuts meeting a gruesome end filled the kitchen.

Sometimes enthusiasm really was a substitute for ability, Rarity mused, watching her. Pinkie, meanwhile, pulled an enormous mixing bowl from beneath the counter and set it up top. Rarity was fairly sure she could have taken a bath in it.

“Okay, we've got the flour,” Pinkie said. “Rarity, get two cups of baking soda?” She pointed a hoof to the opposite counter, where a variety of bowls and measuring cups were set out.

“Certainly, darling.” Rarity trotted over and looked down. Four bowls filled with seemingly identical white powder looked back. She shrugged and levitated a large measuring cup over and filled with two scoops, then walked it back to Pinkie.

Pinkie gave it a glance. “That's cornstarch.”

Oh. Rarity ducked her head and retreated back to the counter. She dumped the cornstarch back in its bowl, and refilled the cup from another.

“That's powdered sugar.” Pinkie barely even looked up that time.

Rarity frowned. How could she possibly tell the difference? She gave the powdered sugar a little sniff and sneezed.

Back to the bowls again. She dumped the powdered sugar and gave the two remaining bowls a hard look. One looked like more sugar, while the other seemed to sparkle in the light, almost like salt. She shrugged and scooped up the powdery one.

She hadn't even turned around when she heard Pinkie's voice: “That's flour.”

“Seriously?” Rarity dumped the 'flour,' if that's indeed what it was, then refilled her cup from the final bowl. “Haven't you ever heard of labels?”

“Whaaaat? Labels? That takes out all the fun!” Pinkie snatched Rarity's measuring cup from the air, gave it a quick glance, then dumped it in the massive vat.

“But what if you get something wrong?” Rarity asked. “Won't that mess up the recipe?”

“Maybe, or maybe you'll make something amazing!” Pinkie added a generous heap of butter to the batter. “Something nopony has ever never ever tasted before! Something...” She leaned down and pressed her cheek against Rarity's. Her breath tickled Rarity's ear as she whispered in a voice deep and smokey and just a little bit sexy. “Something wonderful.”

Oh. Rarity blinked at the mixing bowl, which was vibrating on the counter as the modern electric beaters slowly blended its contents into a smooth, creamy mass. “So, what was wrong with all those other things?”

“You need baking soda, Rarity. Duh!” Pinkie stuck the tip of her hoof in the mix and then licked it clean. She smacked her lips a few times, a considering look on her face, before pouring more milk into the bowl. “Dashie! How are those nuts coming?”

The clock-like cracking sound from the other side of the kitchen stopped. Dash spun around with the mallet still in her mouth; countless walnut shell fragments were nestled in her mane or sticking to her face and shoulders. The floor around her was a veritable sea of walnut husks, and they crunched loudly beneath her hooves as she gathered up the few bits of walnut meat that had attempted to escape and added them to the pile on her counter.

“Uh, good?” She brushed the crushed nuts into a bowl with her wing and trotted over to Pinkie. “I think that's, like, at least a few teaspoons.”

Rarity gave the contents of the bowl a peek. It was nearly overflowing with nuts. “You mean cups, dear?”

“Whatever. I don't use the metric system.” Dash trotted back to the walnut graveyard to retrieve her mallet. “Need anything else broken, Pinkie?”

“Hm, nope. I think that's enough.” Pinkie slowly sifted the nuts into the mix. “Now we need bananas!”

* * *

The banana nut muffins were delicious – Pinkie insisted that they each try one, for “quality control” purposes. After the muffins came loaves of zucchini bread, followed by dollops of peanut butter fudge dipped in chocolate. Cookies frosted with buttermilk icing dyed in each of their colors rounded out the lunch hour. The early afternoon was spent making peanut brittle, which was a new experience for Rarity, and provoked a short argument over whether the brittle should be cut into neat squares or simply shattered carelessly into uneven fragments. Needless to say, Dash and her mallet won out.

Evening found them putting the finishing touches on a batch of caramel apples. Rarity valiantly tried to finish one, but her stomach rebelled before she was half done. An entire day of eating such sinful sweets finally caught up with her. She let out a quiet little groan of disappointment and set the half-eaten apple back on its tray.

Just as quickly it was gone. She blinked and looked over to see Dash happily devouring the rest, core and all. The pegasus was like a bottomless pit.

Well, you wanted to feed her more, didn't you? Rarity watched Dash in quiet awe, then chuckled. She owed Sweetie Belle a hug, it seemed.

“Whew! Thanks girls. This would've taken all day if you hadn't shown up!” Pinkie said.

“It was our pleasure, darling,” Rarity said. “I think I learned more about baking today than I did in my whole life prior to this.” For instance, she had learned how not to set the kitchen on fire. That alone made this day worth it.

“Yeah, and the snacks were awesome!” Dash burped loudly, then sheepishly held her hoof in front of her mouth. “Er, 'scuse me.”

“Manners, dear?” Rarity sighed. She would have scolded Dash more thoroughly, but years of experience had taught her the futility of that. Instead she simply rolled her eyes and took another shallow sip from her glass of water.

“Heh, sorry.” Dash looked anything but. She rubbed her belly with a hoof and flopped out on one of the cushions strewn about Pinkie's room, where they had retreated after the baking was done. There simply wasn't enough room for them downstairs with all the treats.

“So you two will be at the festival tomorrow, right?” Pinkie grabbed a pillow in her mouth and dragged it over to them. The look on her face was bright and attentive, but much more focused than Rarity was used to seeing from her. Apparently she had learned to switch off the randomness, or at least rein it in a little bit.

“Well, I hadn't given it much thought.” Rarity gave Dash a quick glance. They hadn't discussed any plans for tomorrow – so far, this vacation hadn't featured a significant degree of forethought. Each day's activities had been decided on the hoof. “It sounds fun, though. What do you think, Dash?”

“Sounds good to me. Didn't have any other plans, you know?”

“Smart choice, Dashie.” Pinkie leaned over to jab Dash in the ribs with her hoof, provoking a pained groan from the pegasus. “Everypony will be there!”

“So what is there to do at this festival?” Rarity settled onto her own cushion, careful not to get any of the chocolate syrup or powdered sugar or vanilla extract from her hooves onto the fabric. Somehow, Pinkie managed to keep a very clean home, which was amazing when one considered both her general temperament and the fact that a pair of twins still lived in the house.

“Hm.” Pinkie made a great show of thinking, scratching her chin while gazing up at the ceiling, as though somepony might have written the answer there. “There's a lot of food, and... mostly there's just a lot of food. And ponies! Everypony will be there!”

“Yes, you said that.” Still, it would be another chance to re-immerse herself in the small town life of Ponyville, and there was a lot to say for that. Also, it might be another chance to catch Sweetie out with whoever she was dating. She hummed quietly.

“So, are you bringing anypony?” Dash asked. The question, though harmless and directed at Pinkie, was enough to give Rarity a jolt of surprise. Pinkie, with somepony?

“Maybe!”

Dash and Rarity exchanged a glance, but didn't press the issue. No good could come of that. The extra moment gave Rarity a chance for a worrisome thought.

“Oh, is this the sort of event where couples are expected?” she asked. Normally she had no trouble finding a date for social events, even if her motives for dating them were suspect when viewed from a distance. Bright Mark, the unicorn whose bed she had shared just a few nights back, was merely the latest in a long line of stallions whose company she had enjoyed. But Ponyville lacked his type; there were, quite literally, no stallions in Ponyville she could imagine herself with.

Oh, now suddenly you're picky? Nopony here meets your standards, but by Celestia if one did you'd fuck them without a second thought. Maybe you ought to imagine yourself with sompony from this town. It would be healthy for a change.

“It is, but don't worry, Rarity. Everypony knows you two are visiting from out of town, and besides, you'll be together.” She finished with a small smile and her eyes narrowed in a very un-Pinkie Pie way. To Rarity's ears, there seemed to be an emphasis on the word “together.”

Dash, of course, noticed nothing. “Heh, yeah, you can be my date, Rares. We'll be the awesomest couple at the party!” She covered her snout with a hoof and snorted back a laugh.

“Oh, Rainbow Dash, you're so droll.” Rarity kept her eyes on Pinkie as she spoke. Pinkie, for her part, was all smiles. Innocent, her face said, no ulterior motives here, no siree. Just like Sweetie Belle. Rarity wondered for a moment if perhaps her friends were conspiring in some sort of match-making scheme, but almost burst out laughing. The idea of Pinkie participating in a conspiracy theory was simply too absurd for words.

“It's just for funsies, Rarity,” Pinkie said. She lay down on her pillow with a degree of calm and stillness that would have been remarkable for her five years ago. Now, it seemed, she was able to sit in one spot without bouncing around the room.

“Will all the girls be there?” Dash asked. She rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up with her forelegs. Her ears were swiveled forward at full attention.

“Yup! Even Twilight comes, though sometimes she's late and she never eats enough treats.” Pinkie looked wistful at that, melancholy for her friend's obvious suffering. An instant later her face was again alight. “She's super fun to tease, though! And she has to bring her coltfriend this year!”

Now Rarity's ears perked up. Their homegrown princess was still a private mare, even if she had come a long way from the bookish, stand-offish recluse who came to their town all those years ago. She had been circumspect about her 'friend' when they spoke earlier, almost as if she were embarrassed to be in so emotional as a relationship.

“Oh yeah? Is she doing somepony?” Dash, being Dash, cut straight to the heart of the matter.

“Ahem! Dash, one does not gossip about one's friends and their love lives!” Rarity stuck her nose in the air and waited for Dash to make a disappointed sound, then grinned. “Ha! Kidding, of course. Tell us everything, Pinkie.”

“Hmmm...” Pinkie made a show of looking around the room, as though Twilight might be hiding somewhere amongst the toys and stuffed animals that littered her room. “Mm... Nope!”

“What?” Rarity jolted upright, treading on the border of affront from the abrupt denial. “Pinkie, you can't just bring up a topic like that, then refuse to talk! This is important information. We need details.” She leaned forward. “Lurid details.”

“Yeah, lur... what Rarity said.” Dash added. She was sitting up, her wings partly flared in sudden enthusiasm.

“You want lurid details?” Pinkie said the word slowly, as though tasting it in her mouth. She grinned and leaned forward. “Let's trade, Rarity. I'll give you a lurid detail if you give me a salacious detail about your love life.” She waggled an eyebrow at the unicorn.

That shut Rarity up. The mere fact that Pinkie knew a word like “salacious” and was able to use it in a sentence was stunning enough. Worse, though, was the knowing look in Pinkie's eyes. She licked her lips and cast about for some way out of the conversation.

Dash, blessedly, came to the rescue. “Ha! Good luck with that, Pinks. Rarity never talks about what goes on in her bed.” She gave Rarity an exaggerated wink.

And just as well, isn't it? We'd be here a while if you did.

“Discretion is a virtue for cultured mares,” she said. She tipped her head, snout high in the air, ears turned back. Still, she couldn't help the tiny grin pulling at her lips. “Usually, that is. Are you sure you can't tell us a bit about Twilight's beau? This... 'Turner'?”

“Sorry, Rarity.” Pinkie really did look sorry. “Buuut... he'll be there tomorrow. You can ask her all the questions you want, then. And him too!”

“So we sit around and eat and tease Twilight?” Dash asked. “Huh... sounds fun.”

“That's the spirit, Dashie!” Pinkie laughed and shot a hoof out to ruffle Dash's mane, provoking a short wrestling match between the two that ended with them both giggling on their backs on the floor.

Rarity watched their display quietly. Something about the scene tugged at the back of her mind. There was something unusual here, something strange, even though these were two of her closest friends. Two mares she knew as well as anypony in the world, but for some reason she felt oddly out of place. It took her several minutes of quiet contemplation, while Pinkie and Dash continued their play, before she realized what was different about tonight.

She'd never been alone with Pinkie and Dash.

In retrospect, it made sense. All six of them were strong friends, but even within those bounds there were demarcations. Twilight was the center of their band, the one who tied ponies as different as Rarity and Pinkie Pie together. But when Twilight wasn't around, they tended to spin apart into their separate orbits: Rarity and Fluttershy; Pinkie and Dash and Applejack. Without Twilight's arrival in the town, she might never have known these two as more than passing acquaintances.

Her thoughts must have shown on her face. Pinkie and Dash had stopped their tussling and were looking at her.

“Hey, you okay, Rares?” Dash asked. Her head was twisted at an angle, thanks to the mouthful of her mane Pinkie was tugging at. She struggled to free herself for a moment, then gave up and turned her attention back to Rarity.

“Yes...” Her voice caught, and she coughed into her hoof. “Sorry, yes. I was just thinking how lucky we all are.”

“Lucky?” Dash managed to wriggle a hoof between herself and Pinkie's neck and succeeded in prying the other mare off.

Rarity nodded and made a show of looking around the room. “All this, all you. I don't know what I did to deserve it. Was it just chance that I was in charge of decorations for that Summer Sun Celebration? Or that you, Dash, were in charge of the weather that day? Was it just happenstance that Twilight met us, and chose us to help her confront Nightmare Moon?”

“What? Naw.” Dash waved a hoof dismissively. “Look at us! We're the best friends that ever were! Even if Twilight hadn't met us that day, we'd still have found each other. It's, like, fate or something.”

They both turned to Pinkie, who was chewing on a stuffed alligator. She blinked at the sudden attention and spat the toy out. “Don't look at me! I throw parties for everypony, especially introverted hermit librarian ponies!”

“Well, regardless, I feel lucky,” Rarity said. “Maybe we'd have all become friends anyway, or maybe not. I just can't imagine life without you two or the others.”

And yet, you left them anyway. You don't have to imagine life without them – you already have it.

Dash must've been thinking something similar. The cocky smile slid from her face, replaced by a distant, pensive look. Her wings settled back to her body, and the tips of her ears seemed to wilt. Pinkie glanced between them, a frown growing on her face as the silence stretched out.

“C'mon, pouty ponies! Smile!” She reached around Dash's head and pulled her cheeks back, contorting her face into a painful grin. Dash shoved her off, and just like that they were back to wrestling.

Rarity chuckled at their display. Some ponies were simply impossible to be unhappy around, and she had always counted her friends in that category. She was a lucky pony indeed.

* * *

The wrestling continued, with Rarity playing a mostly uninvolved observer. The one time Dash and Pinkie attempted to include her in their games, she squawked and protested until they let her be, though not before her coat was smeared with the syrup and flour and other remains of their day baking. The grime didn't bother her for once.

Eventually they tired, or had their fill for the day of hoof-twisting and mane-pulling. They talked of old times, of their adventures and follies. Again, seeing them laugh together, Rarity was reminded how out of place she was. But tonight she felt included; she felt at home.

By the time the stories began to run dry, the sun had set and it was clear they would be spending the night. A “baking sleepover,” Pinkie called it, though the baking was long since done. Rarity could have easily walked home, but the novelty of sleeping at Pinkie's house was enough of a draw to stay.

Besides, Dash would be here. And Dash needed her. She told herself that over and over until she began to believe it.

“Well girls, I'm afraid it's time for little pink ponies to go to bedsies.” Pinkie stood from her cushion and stretched. Although she was the largest and roundest of the six, she still managed to move with an almost feline grace. She was, Rarity was forced to admit, as confident with her body as Rarity herself, without the obsessive upkeep and pampering.

“I'll take the first bath,” she continued. “Dashie can have the second. That way Rarity can take as long as she wants.”

“Sounds good,” Dash said before Rarity had a chance to act affronted. Pinkie darted out of the room before Rarity could so much as give her an arch look.

“Really.” Rarity sniffed. “I don't take that long.”

Dash shrugged. “Don't look at me. I prefer bird baths.”

Bird baths? An image of Dash splashing around in a shallow stone fountain, jostling for space with sparrows and bluejays, stuck in Rarity's mind. Her prismatic mane, slicked back against her head, sparkled in the light of Rarity's imaginary sun. The sound of running water from the adjacent bathroom gave the thought an additional realism.

“So, tomorrow should be fun,” Dash said, breaking Rarity's train of thought before it could go anywhere interesting. “We haven't all been together since the, uh...” She paused for less than a heartbeat, her eyes glancing off to the side. “Since... you know.”

Right. Rarity followed Dash's gaze out the window, where silver-rimmed clouds collected around the setting moon. Dark clouds, as thick beneath her hooves as wet cotton, beaded with each step and left hoof-shaped puddles behind her. The blustery wind was cold and heavy, and she shivered whenever she came to a stop. The pegasi around her, adapted to the chill of the high empty skies, gave her an occasional sympathetic glance. She smiled her appreciation at them and continued forward. Up ahead, at the edge of the cloud bank, Twilight and Fluttershy stood close beside Rainbow Dash. The Wonder Bolt's coat appeared almost gray, her normally colorful mane lifeless and wan. A thick splint wrapped in gauze entombed her left foreleg, and she held it awkwardly against her chest. But worse than the physical wound was the look on her face – lost, like a foal torn from her parents and tossed into the wide, dark, unforgiving world.

“Yes, since then.” Rarity cleared her throat. The sound of water in the bathroom tapered off, followed by a quiet melodic sound that she assumed was Pinkie singing to herself as she washed. “You know, I was thinking earlier. I never spent much time with you and Pinkie before.”

“Heh, yeah. Weird, isn't it?” Dash turned back from the window and gave Rarity a small smile. “I guess we didn't have much in common back then.”

And you think you do now? You're still fooling yourself.

“Well, we've been through a lot together. And friends... well, friends are rare in Fillydelphia.”

Dash's ears swiveled toward her. “Whatcha mean? There's, like, a million ponies in that city.”

“Yes, but the crowds I travel in...” Rarity traced a circle on the floor with her hoof. “Ponies aren't there to make friends. They're getting famous, or getting rich. We're all just climbing the ladder, Dash.”

Bright Mark didn't seem like he was 'just climbing the ladder.' Maybe the problem's not with other ponies. Maybe the problem's with you.

“Wow.” Dash gave her wings a little flap, stirring a breeze that set the curtains across the room rustling. “That's, uh... nice? You like that?”

Rarity gave her a perfect smile. She knew, from years of practice, that her eyes would betray nothing. “Of course, dear. It's the price of a glamorous life, after all.”

Dash had nothing to say to that. She looked down at the floor, an unreadable expression on her face. Rarity waited a moment for her to respond. Nothing. She shrugged and let the silence drag out. It wasn't uncomfortable or awkward – more like the quiet calm that accompanied their massage sessions, or the few minutes in bed the previous night before either had fallen asleep.

The silence was broken by Pinkie's return. She trotted in humming and dripping water, her mane wrapped in a huge towel that seemed to grow with every passing moment. Even Rarity, who had a considerable collection of large towels, was amazed.

“Okay Dashie, your turn!” Pinkie grabbed a cushion with her teeth and carried it over to Rarity for her seat. “Try not to use all the hot water. That's Rarity's job.”

“Ha! Touche, Pinkie.” Rarity held a hoof over her chest to mime a mortal blow. Dash rolled her eyes at them both before she trotted off to the bathroom. Within moments the quiet rush of faucets occupied the silence.

Alone, with Pinkie Pie. When was the last time this happened? Rarity cast her memory back through the years in an attempt to recall such a meeting. She had seen Pinkie for dress fittings, but that was a strictly business engagement, even if no bits had changed hooves. Not a social gathering, like this. Not voluntary. Rarity hurriedly combed through years of friendships, thousands of nights spent with her friends in search of a single other instance she had sat down, alone, with Pinkie Pie.

Nothing else came. Aside from their unfortunate time spent together on the train cart back from Dodge Junction, Rarity had never willingly spent time with this mare.

“What’s wrong, Rarity?” Pinkie asked as she settled down on the cushion next to her. “Already partied out?”

Is she thinking this too? Does it bother her? Rarity frowned at the thoughts and tried to shove them away. “Sorry, darling. I was just thinking that you and I never spent much time together, back when I lived here. Isn’t that odd?”

“Hm…. Nope!” Pinkie was all smiles.

“Oh.” The quick response caught Rarity flat-hooved. “Don’t you think that’s a little unusual, though? I mean, we’ve always been such good friends...” She trailed off. Such good friends that what, exactly?

“Are we such good friends?” Pinkie tilted her head; the question seemed addressed as much to herself as Rarity.

Rarity gawked at her. “Pinkie!” She tried to summon indignation into her voice but found herself at a loss. Instead she stumbled forward, grasping at flimsy threads. “Well, of course we are... We’re always there for each other, and we... we’ve gone on adventures together, we confronted dragons, saved Equestria... Isn’t that friendship?”

“Maybe.” The smile was still there, but the expression on Pinkie’s face was penetrating, as though she saw past the careful illusions Rarity clothed herself in. “Or is friendship going to the spa with somepony every week? Or taking tea at the castle on cold winter days?”

“Or attending baking sleepovers?” Rarity countered.

Pinkie grinned. “Or attending baking sleepovers! Maybe there is hope for us.”

Rarity exhaled and felt a weight lift from her shoulders. “Of course, darling. We may not have been as close as some of the other girls but, well, look at us now.” Rarity glanced down at her sticky hooves, smeared with flour and syrup and chocolate and even a few bits of smooshed zucchini. “You know, I think I would have enjoyed this back then, too.”

“Mhm.” Pinkie’s smile never wavered. She glanced briefly to the side, where behind a thin door they could hear Dash splashing in the bathtub. There would be no shortage of cold water pooling on the floor, Rarity feared. “You and Dashie never spent much time together, either.”

“Yes, well, not every pony shares the same interests. We didn’t have much in common.”

Pinkie raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t?” The unspoken question hung between them.

“And as for now...” Rarity continued after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “Well, ponies can change. I mean, look at me! Here, at a baking sleepover!”

Pinkie nodded slowly. Rarity would have called the expression on her face thoughtful, if such a sentiment weren’t wildly out of character for the Pinkie she knew.

“You think you can help her?” Pinkie asked, her eyes still on the bathroom door. Her voice was far quieter, almost a whisper.

Rarity frowned at the tone in Pinkie’s voice and turned her head to the door. She thought about her answer for nearly a minute before speaking. “I don’t know. But we have to try, don’t we? What kind of friends would we be, otherwise? She’s hurting.”

“She is,” Pinkie said. The slosh of water ceased behind the door, followed by the creak of floorboards. It was almost Rarity’s turn in the bath. “And what about you?”

Rarity glanced at her sharply. “What do you mean, dear?”

“How is Fillydelphia treating you?” Pinkie’s expression was all innocence again. “I never had a chance to ask. Are you happy?”

Right. Rarity willed herself to relax. Her life was perfect, as far as everypony else was concerned. None of her... troubles had ever bubbled through to the surface. “Why, just fine, of course. My shop there is more successful than I could have dreamed. The social scene in Fillydelphia is simply to die for. I am quite comfortable.”

“But are you happy?”

Rarity let the tiniest scowl mar her face. “I just said, Pinkie—”

“You said you were comfortable. You said you were successful. But are you happy? Are those words syn-on-y-mous?” Pinkie stretched the last word out, tasting each syllable in her mouth before speaking them.

“They’re close enough,” Rarity snapped. She would have said more, but the door finally opened, and a clean-but-damp Rainbow Dash trotted into the room.

“Whew, that felt good,” she said, oblivious to the tension in the air. “All yours, Rares.”

“Wonderful, darling.” Rarity rose to her hooves, pointedly ignoring Pinkie. She gave Dash a smile as she passed her into the bathroom. The quiet mumble of indistinct conversation resumed as soon as she shut the door, but even that was lost as she twisted the faucet on with a brief touch of magic. She liked her baths hot.

A few minutes in the tub left her feeling both cleaner and a tad remorseful. Pinkie Pie was just being Pinkie Pie, and there was no need to get snippy with her. Her uncanny ability to guess or intuit things that were best left unsaid was annoying, but ultimately had no great impact on the world. What was one secret, between friends?

Between friends. Rarity mulled over the words, rolling them around in her head. She settled into the water, until only the tip of her snout stuck above the surface, and let her worries simmer away. Her mane floated like a cloud around her. It would be a pain to dry and style, but despite her best efforts earlier to keep it safe during their baking adventures, it had picked up its share of flour and syrup and even a bit of chocolate. Normally she considered chocolate a mare’s best friend, but never when it was in her hair.

A burst of laughter sounded through the door. Rarity sat up and strained to hear what might have provoked it, but their conversation was too low to comprehend. After a moment, she settled back into the water and let her breath out in a long, slow sigh.

At least Dash was enjoying her evening. For tonight, that was enough.

I Never Should Have Left

Cinders drifted on furnace winds.

Rainbow Dash opened her left eye. The right was clotted shut and screamed its pain. Hot dirt ground against her face as she struggled in a futile attempt to rise to her hooves. Her body failed, broken far beyond the weakling punishments it had endured in the foalish crashes of her youth, and she flailed helplessly on the ground.

Stop. Stop. You’re panicking. She gasped for breath and nearly choked on the burning air. Its sear touch added another pain to the mosaic wracking her body. She coughed away the poisonous fumes before they could burn out her lungs.

Remember your training. Observe. She went limp and craned her head around. Thick clouds of smoke roiled above her and obscured the sun; the nearest of them felt hot enough to curl the hairs of her coat. The loud rampant rush of a blazing fire sounded somewhere close. Faintly, in the distance, a siren began to wail.

Orient. There’s been an accident. I’m hurt and I don’t know how I got here. I am in danger. Wonder Bolt’s safety training, the first thing drilled remorselessly into the heads of all new fliers, instantly leapt to her mind. No pony was allowed to fly with the team until they could recite the safety protocols and procedures backwards and forwards, under the most stressful situations the team could devise. Even now, feeling half dead, they were a clear and solid anchor against the chaos around her.

Decide. I need to get up. I need to try flying. I need to help anypony else who is hurt, and then I need to get out. The neat order of thoughts, almost like a flight plan, helped calm her racing heart. It was a checklist, and she could do checklists. Twilight loves checklists. The stray thought passed through her conscience without stopping, and she didn’t trouble herself with it.

Anyway, at that moment she could not have said who Twilight Sparkle was.

Act. She pushed herself onto her belly and struggled to draw in her limbs. One, her left foreleg, didn’t seem to be working the way it should. She ignored it for the moment and focused on the rest, and managed to lever herself into a wobbly stance. The ground around her was torn apart, raw earth exposed and scorched black by some unimaginable heat. A dozen feet away, smoke vomited from a shattered bunker door.

“Soarin?” she shouted. He was supposed to be here. She remembered him at her wingtip, just before... whatever had happened. Now there was nothing around her but smoke and chaos and pain and fear. Only the distant siren, still wailing its panic-song, gave any sign that she was on the training grounds, rather than dead in some hellish Tartarus.

She tried taking a step, and her foreleg collapsed, sending her stumbling back to the dirt. A wave of sickening pain radiated from the limb, and when she stood again it swung limply from an extra joint just above her knee. She stared at it, numb with incomprehension, then turned her scattered thoughts back to finding Soarin.

Observe...

* * *

Rainbow Dash jerked awake, the thin wool blanket sliding from her shoulders to pool on the floor. Sweat matted her mane and coat, and she felt her feathers standing on end, still reacting to the phantom pain of the dream. She clutched at the fibers of thought, but they drifted through her hooves and melted away. It had been that day again, but the details – only minutes ago as vivid as life – now vanished from her mind like fog in the morning sun.

She exhaled a quiet sigh and looked around. Pinkie’s room, bright with cheery pastels even in the dim morning light, stared back. Pinkie’s bed was empty, the pony herself presumably already up and preparing for the festival. Dash debated putting her head back down for a few more minutes of rest when a quiet rustle of cloth caught her ear. She turned to see Rarity lying on her own set of cushions, just a few feet away. The mare was wide awake and staring at her.

Dash swallowed to wet her parched throat. “Uh, hey. Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Rarity said. Her voice was a whisper. “Are you alright? You were talking in your sleep.”

“Yeah, fine.” The answer was instant, thoughtless. She could have been bleeding to death, and still would have given that same response. “What, uh... what was I saying?”

Silence. Rarity’s face was a marble mask. “I couldn’t understand, I’m afraid,” she finally said.

Liar. Dash didn’t press the issue. She wasn’t sure what she would do with an answer, anyway. Instead she shrugged and set her head back on her forelegs. She might have snagged a few more winks had not Pinkie Pie chosen that moment to burst in the door.

“Girls! Wake up!” Her voice wasn’t quite a shout, but it shocked both of them to their hooves. “You’re late for the festival!” That said, she grabbed them both by their manes – Dash’s with her hooves and Rarity’s with her teeth – and dragged them out the door before Rarity could so much as squawk a protest.

* * *

“Pinkie.”

“Yes, Rarity?” Pinkie looked up from the table she was helping set. A red and white checkered tablecloth covered wood damp with morning mist. All around them ponies trundled about, setting out piles of vegetables and baked goods and treats still warm from the oven. Dash’s stomach rumbled at the sight of them, and she gravitated over to a table filled with muffins.

“We’re not late for the festival, Pinkie.” Rarity was not angry, but her tone left little doubt that she was annoyed.

“Oh.” Pinkie paused for a moment, a tray of caramel turtles with pecans for shells held just above the tablecloth. “I might have meant late for the festival set-up.”

“So, what do you need us to do?” Dash said. It was better to head Rarity off at the pass, before she got dramatic.

“Just start setting stuff out,” Pinkie said. She stopped her own work long enough to point at the empty tables around them. “The Cakes get all these tables. Why don’t you start a chocolate table?”

She could do that. Rarity mumbled something under her breath but nevertheless followed Dash the short way back to Sugarcube Corner to load up their cart with a small portion of the chocolatey treats waiting for them. Staring at the horde of food still before them, Dash began to appreciate Pinkie’s desire for an early start.

“So, enjoying Ponyville yet?” Dash asked. She made sure Rarity saw the grin on her face before grabbing another tray of chocolate. The cart was nearly full, and they hadn’t even started on the mountain of fudge.

“Oh, of course I am.” Rarity gave one of the chocolate statues a critical look, then carefully levitated it over to Dash. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect to be hauling goods around this early in the morning. But it will be worth it for tonight, and of course it’s just fabulous to see Sweetie and all our friends again. But enough about me enjoying Ponyville; how about yourself?”

“Yeah, it’s cool.” She considered the amount of space still free in the cart, then tossed in a few more packages of chocolate to fill in the gaps. After a moment of silence from Rarity, she turned back to the unicorn, who was apparently expecting a more detailed answer. “I mean, you know, seeing everypony again and hanging out and stuff. It’s fun.”

“Just fun, dear?” The soft edge of trepidation in Rarity’s voice brought Dash up short. She paused, the cart’s tailgate held in her teeth, halfway closed.

What is this man she’s been acting weird lately. She shoved the tailgate shut and peered inside the cart, pretending to look for something while she thought of what to say. No answers waited amidst the chocolate.

“Yeah, you know. Fun and relaxing and all that stuff.” She pushed away from the rear of the cart and brushed past Rarity. “C’mon, we got, like, a million cupcakes to get loaded.”

* * *

After that, she and Rarity found different parts of the festival to help set up. It was just as well; while Rarity’s work ethic was second to none, she had a tendency to chatter endlessly and aimlessly, mostly on the topic of other ponies’ personal relationships. Dash wasn’t immune to such gossip, but for some reason she didn’t feel in the mood to discuss love and romance with Rarity just then.

And yet, some hours later when the sun approached its zenith and Rainbow Dash was putting the finishing touches on a table larded with every flavor of cupcake known to pony, she found herself missing that constant voice by her side. Airy and light and devious and bitingly witty. Traits she couldn’t have cared for less years ago, but after living with Soarin for so long, seemed as vital as the air beneath her wings.

She brushed these thoughts away. The skies were wide and empty, and pegasi accustomed to long stretches of solitude. Besides, there were tables to set up, and ponies expecting her to help.

Except there weren’t. She placed her last red velvet cupcake on the edge of the table, licked a bit of escaped frosting (delicious!) from her snout, and looked up to see ponies chatting quietly with each other. At least a hundred tables, weighed down with every imaginable food or dessert or drink, filled the Ponyville town square, and around them a hundred empty tables waited for friends and family to arrive. Above her, pegasi strung lines between the buildings to support decorations, and a large wagon loaded with bales of hay was making its way around the square, dropping its soft cargo off to serve as impromptu seats.

“Looks good, Dashie.” Pinkie’s voice caught her off-guard. She spun to see Pinkie nosing a few of the cupcakes around, apparently adding some order (or chaos, knowing her) to the layout. “Did Rarity help with this?”

“Huh? No, she, uh...” Dash looked around. Where had Rarity gone? For such a bright-coated unicorn, she was surprisingly easy to lose track of. “She was setting out bread, I think? You know, the ones with the frosting and fruit stuff.”

“The danishes,” Pinkie corrected, propping her forelegs on the table to scan around the square. “She was supposed to stay with you,” she added with a frown.

“Huh? Why?” Dash turned from her search for Rarity, but Pinkie was already gone. Off to sow more confusion, no doubt. Dash shook her head and set off to find her other friends.

Applejack was easy enough to find -- she stood in the center of a whirlwind of activity near the stage. Dozens of ponies, most with apples or apple-themed cutie marks, carried bushels of Sweet Apple Acres’ finest produce and arranged them for her critical eye. Dash threaded her way through the crowd until she stood at the eye of the storm.

“Hey AJ. Looks good.” It looked really good, in fact. Dash restrained herself from grabbing a few apples from the pile; Applejack did not believe in free samples.

“Well howdy, stranger.” Applejack turned to give her a quick smile, then called over to a tan stallion. “Caramel! Take over for a few, would ya?”

“It’s cool if you’re busy. I don’t wanna interrupt.” But she did, and her protest was half-hearted. Applejack ignored it and pulled her over to a stack of barrels rich with the scent of sweet cider.

“Nonsense. Anypony can carry apples. Besides, gives us a chance to catch up.” Unbidden, she grabbed a pair of empty flagons and filled them from a tapped barrel. The frothy cider spilled over the rims and splashed onto the dirt. “Here ya go. Feelin’ any better?”

“Thanks.” She took the cider and downed half of it in a single gulp. As good as she remembered. A moment later the rest of Applejack’s words registered. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

“Well, you know.” Applejack glanced off to the side, then took a long drink. “You seemed a bit tired the other night, sug.”

Dash shrugged. “Lotta travel, lately. Wears a pony out.”

“Right.” Her eyes flitted to Dash’s sides, then back to her face. Dash would’ve missed it if she hadn’t been watching. “Just checking.”

“Right,” Dash echoed. The look on Applejack’s face suggested Dash hadn’t managed to keep all the annoyance out of her voice. She ruffled her wings, suddenly uncomfortable. “Hey, is Fluttershy here? I was gonna go say hi to her.”

“She was helping Twilight with something. Books, maybe?” She sounded puzzled by the possibility of books at a festival, but they had all dealt with stranger things from Twilight in the past.

“Thanks. Oh, hey.” She turned back to Applejack. “Are you, uh, gonna be around later? You know, to talk?”

“Sure, sug. Anything in particular on your mind?”

“Oh, you know.” Dash gave a little shrug, fluttering her wings as she did. “Just stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah, stuff.”

Applejack finished off her cider, set it down, and gave Dash a long look. “Anytime you want. We’re always here for you.” She paused. “All of us.”

That brought a smile to Dash’s face. “I know. Hey, thanks for the cider.” She finished the rest of her glass and went off in search of Fluttershy.

* * *

The library table, or booth, or whatever it was being called sat on the far side of the town hall from Applejack’s massive display of produce. It was just as well, Dash reasoned; any closer and the combined excitement of apples and books might give the more delicate ponies fits.

Twilight Sparkle’s back was to Dash as she approached, a small constellation of literature in orbit around her head. While Dash watched, she selected a book from the cloud, floated it down to her table, and took a long look at it from several angles. The book apparently failed some test, as moments later it was back in the air, and Twilight was peering about for another. Most of the table was still empty, Dash noted.

“Hey Twilight,” Dash said. She stepped inside the circling books, ducking to avoid a particularly large tome on the history of astronomy. “This looks... fun?”

“Hi Dash.” Twilight turned to give her a small, brief smile. “I’m glad you’re here, actually. Which book should front the display? Ponhart’s A History of the Three Tribes, or White Quill’s Love in the Time of Colic?”

“Oh, the Quill one, definitely. Great book.” Dash had never, in her entire life, heard of either author or their works.

“Hm.” Twilight stared at the books in question, the tip of her tongue peeking out from between her lips, just like it always had when she was deep in thought. Dash forced back the laugh that threatened to bubble out from her chest. “Quill it is, then.”

“Good choice. Hey, you seen Fluttershy?”

“She was getting more books from the library.” Twilight had already moved on to her next set of books. She waved a hoof distractedly. “Somewhere between here and there, I would assume.”

“You’re letting her get books?”

That got a response. Twilight glanced over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “Letting her?”

“Nevermind.” For all her smarts, sometimes Twilight could be pretty dense. Dash left her to her books and trotted the short distance to the castle. At some point while she was gone, Twilight had planted some young oaks on the path leading to the entrance, apparently in homage to her old library tree. Their small crowns were brilliant with the touch of autumn, all reds and yellows and golds. A sudden breeze sent them rustling, chasing away for a moment the warmth of the sun.

A small cart sat half-loaded outside the castle entrance. As Dash approached, Fluttershy walked out the wide door, a book held in her mouth and several more balanced on her back between her wings.

“Fluttershy!” she called. The mare stopped to glance over in Dash’s direction, waved a wing, then carefully set her book inside the cart. Dash rushed to her side, grabbed the rest from her back, and dumped them in the cart. “C’mon, what are you doing? You can’t be lifting stuff.”

“That’s very nice of you, Dash.” Fluttershy gave her a warm smile. “But you don’t have to. I can carry books just fine.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t. What about the foal?”

“I’m pregnant, Dash, not sick.” She walked around to the front of the cart and hitched the yoke around her neck. “It doesn’t make us weak. The foal will be just fine. Still, it’s very kind of you to be concerned.” She emphasized that last with a gentle nuzzle, then started off toward the town center with the books in tow.

Dash walked beside her. She found herself glancing at Fluttershy every few steps to make sure she could handle the load. “Well, take it easy, okay? We just don’t want anything, you know... bad to happen.”

Fluttershy seemed to consider that. Finally, she stopped, a small smile on her face as she spoke. “I suppose my hooves are a bit sore today. Would you like to pull the cart, Dash?”

“Heh, yeah. I’d love to.”

* * *

Twilight didn’t ask any questions when they showed up with the books, though she did raise an eyebrow at the sight of Dash hauling Fluttershy’s cart. Between the three of them, they stocked the library booth with a minimum of second-guessing from Twilight. Dash wasn’t sure how many ponies would stop by to pick up the latest copy of Mathematics Today Digest, but then, the castle library didn’t seem to be drowning in guests to start with.

They broke for a snack just after noon at a small table on the periphery of the town square. Dash sat with Fluttershy while Twilight grabbed their food. The alicorn chose a small hunk of iceberg lettuce topped with daisies for herself, a larger collection of beets and tubers for Fluttershy, and an entire platter of vegetables and pastries for Dash. She blinked at the mound of food but tucked into it without complaint. Twilight read from one of her books while she ate, leaving Dash and Fluttershy to chat aimlessly about the joys and travails of pregnancy.

Pregnancy had only ever featured in Dash’s life goals as an abstract, something to be avoided now, but possibly desired in the distant future. Expectant pegasi were not the best fliers, and they certainly didn’t lead the Wonder Bolts’ aerial demonstrations. For all that she and Soarin had planned on forming a family, it was always a static, literally sterile goal. Just them. Foals? Later. Someday. Maybe.

But now later meant never. The thought lurked just beneath the surface as she smiled along with Fluttershy. When she finally excused herself to find Rarity, neither mare moved to stop her. “Good luck,” was all Twilight said.

Weird. It wasn’t like Rarity was hiding or anything.

The square grew more crowded with the afternoon. The dirt warmed nicely beneath her hooves, the chill of early autumn chased away by the sun. Dash smiled up at the clear skies, and nearly missed the sight of Rarity standing by a table loaded with candles of all different sizes and shapes. The white mare waved a hoof to flag her attention, and Dash trotted over.

“Hey Rares,” she said. She was still smiling, she realized, and forced herself to adopt a cool, laidback expression. “What’s up?”

“Hello, Dash.” Rarity was wearing a little smile of her own. “Would you mind walking around to the other side of this table?”

Um. Dash glanced at Rarity, the candles, and finally the other side of the table. When Rarity said nothing more, she shrugged and moved into place. “Like this?”

“Perfect.” Rarity looked up. Her eyes met Dash’s for a moment, and then her gaze flicked to the side, over Dash’s shoulder. “Don’t turn around. We’re watching Sweetie Belle.”

“Oh.” Dash played along and picked up a large beeswax candle. It was scented with something fruity she couldn’t quite identify. “You mean spying?”

“Of course not. We’re just playing a little game, she and I. She’s dating somepony but won’t tell me who.”

“Have you asked her friends?”

“No, that would be admitting defeat.” Rarity looked among the candles, then back over Dash’s shoulder. “I’ll catch her out at some point.”

“You know, I saw her sitting with Snails earlier. They seemed very friendly.”

Rarity dropped her candle with a loud thunk. It left a chalky red smear on the wood table. “With who?”

Dash just grinned. After a moment Rarity caught on and gave her a small scowl.

“I’m sure Snails is a fine young stallion,” she said and picked up the candle again. One of its edges was dented from the fall. She gave it a little frown and turned it around so the damaged portion was hidden from view. “But Sweetie... well, there’s no way to say this that won’t sound pretentious, but she deserves somepony wonderful.”

“Doesn’t everypony?”

“Everypony deserves somepony special.” Rarity gave her an arch look. “She’s still young. I just don’t want her making any mistakes. Starting off on the wrong hoof, as it were.”

“And you know what’s best for her?” Her words came out a little stronger than Dash intended. She cocked a grin at Rarity to soften them.

“No. I know what mistakes not to make.” Rarity didn’t look up from the candles. Eventually she selected a tall, slender stick of marbled purple and lavender wax, as well as the damaged candle she dropped earlier. With both floating by her side, she went off in search of the table’s proprietor.

Mistakes? Dash thought she misheard. By the time she puzzled out what Rarity meant, the unicorn was gone.

* * *

High cirrus clouds trespassed upon the brilliant blue sky as the afternoon wore on. They looked like white feathers from the ground, and Dash found herself wondering what they felt like. Could a pegasus stand on them? No pegasus could fly high enough to touch them, of course. They were forever out of reach.

Setup for the festival was complete, as best as she could tell. Except for the large group of tables where the townsponies would sit, everything was full. Unlit lanterns hung on lines above her head. Dozens of long tables arranged in rows sagged under the weight of the year’s harvest or various goods. Even the library table attracted a few passers-by, to Twilight’s delight.

A special table, empty except for their place settings and placards, was set up near center of the square for the Elements of Harmony, right next to the mayor’s table. Somepony had decided Dash would sit next to Applejack and Fluttershy, while Rarity would sit between Big Macintosh and “Guest of Princess Twilight Sparkle,” according to the tag. Dash waited until nopony was looking and swapped her own placard with Big Mac’s. Much better.

The square was getting more crowded. The festival didn’t begin for another hour, but half the town seemed to be present, taking advantage of any excuse to mingle with friends and family in perhaps the last decent weather before winter. Dash stopped for a moment and stood motionless; a cool wind on her left ruffled her coat, while the warm sun on her right chased away its chill. The twin faces of autumn, together for the equinox. She closed her eyes, rested in silence, and basked in the warmth and the chill and the scent of hay and the food and the quiet babble of hundreds of ponies living their lives in the quiet contentment of a small town rich with love.

I never should have left.

But she had, which made moments like this all the more important. Minutes passed her by, until a strand of conversation different from the rest intruded on her conscience.

“See? I told you she’d be here.” Sweetie Belle’s voice, high and musical as a chime. “Go on, go talk to her.”

“She looks busy. I don’t wanna interrupt her.” The second voice was scratchy, like its owner spent too much time yelling. Like her own voice, Dash realized, though lower than the last time she heard it. She smiled and opened her eyes.

“Hey girls,” she said. Three fillies – no, young mares, she corrected – stood beside a bench a polite distance away. “How you doing, Scoots? Long time.”

“Hey.” Scootaloo’s grin was three sizes too large for her face, and the skin around her eyes was tight. “Yeah, it’s, uh... been a while, right? How are you?” A moment after asking, she winced, and her eyes darted to Dash’s leg.

It’s cool. Play it off. No big thing.

“Doin’ great, of course.” She stretched, emphasizing the movement with her left foreleg. “Good as new, the doc says.” It was a lie, and the doctor had told her no such thing. Her leg still ached when the weather shifted or she changed altitude too rapidly.

“Oh, good.” Scootaloo’s strain grin eased to something more normal, and she looked over her shoulder at Sweetie and Apple Bloom. “Hey, could you give us a sec?”

“Sure, we’ll be at our table,” Sweetie said. Apple Bloom lingered a moment longer, a tiny frown on her lips, but she followed the unicorn nevertheless. Scootaloo let out a breath once they were alone.

“Everything alright?” Dash raised an eyebrow. It had been years since she had seen Scootaloo this nervous.

“Yeah, totally. Totally.” She sat, and her wings fanned open and shut absently. “I just wanted to say I was sorry.”

Huh? Dash blinked at her. “Sorry for what?”

“You know, for not visiting.” She looked away, feigning a casual interest in the festival around them. “After the accident,” she added, somewhat unnecessarily.

“Oh. Hey, look.” Dash turned and took a seat beside her. Scootaloo was nearly as tall as her now, though her hunched posture left her eyes well below Dash’s. “Things were really crazy for a while. Even if you’d wanted to visit, you probably couldn’t have. That’s why I came back here.” Not strictly true, of course – they’d all been at the funeral, and in the hospital before that. But within weeks the team had been back on the road, travelling for appearances if not full shows. After that, she hadn’t seen anyone from Ponyville until her chance meeting with Rarity.

Scootaloo sniffed. “You got our card, right?”

“Heh. Yeah, I got your card.” Dash had received hundreds of cards after the accident. The hospital staff replaced the extra bed in her room with a desk just to hold them. But the card from Scootaloo and her friends was too big for the desk: several feet tall, sky blue with rainbow lettering, it hung as a poster beside her bed. Even at night she could read it, the glitter in the letters a dim sparkle in the hospital’s hallway lights.

“Thanks for sending it.” She leaned down and gave Scootaloo a little nuzzle.

“It wasn’t too big?”

“No. It was perfect.” Dash rose back to her hooves. Her leg twinged, just a little reminder to be careful. “Anyway, what are you doing these days? Weather team?”

Scootaloo shook her head and stood, then followed Dash as she meandered through the crowd. “Nah. Tutoring.”

“Tutoring? Like, math?”

“Ha! No, though it would probably pay better. I do flight lessons.”

That made more sense. Seriously, math? She shook her head. “Sorry, wasn’t thinking. Are there really that many pegasi here now?”

Scootaloo nodded. “More and more every year. We don’t have enough for a full-up flight school yet like Cloudsdale or Las Pegasus, so the town has a mentoring system. Kinda like you and I did.”

“Ahh.” Dash thought back to Scootaloo’s first lesson on Twilight’s balcony, then the highest point in the town. “Not exactly like ours, I hope.”

“No, not exactly. Your way was more fun, though.”

Well, duh. Dash stifled a smirk. “Not everyone can handle that level of awesome. It’s for the best.” They had completed their tour of the town square and were back where they started. Sweetie and Apple Bloom waited beside the town baker’s table, chatting idly with each other and other ponies their age as they passed. Apple Bloom waved a hoof to grab their attention.

“You done?” Apple Bloom cocked an eyebrow at Scootaloo. Her tone was about as far from what Dash expected of an Apple family member as possible. The Apple family reunion must be interesting these days, Dash suspected.

“Yeah, thanks for waiting. Food ready yet?”

“Almost,” Sweetie said. “Just waiting on the mayor.”

“Ugh, is she speaking again?” Apple Bloom made a sour face. “She took forever last year.”

Dash shrugged. “Food’s not going anywhere.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rarity beside another table, pretending to peruse its wares while looking in her direction – no, in Sweetie Belle’s direction. A wicked thought occurred to her.

“Oh, hey, Sweetie,” Dash said. “Snails was looking for you earlier. Said he had something important for you.”

“Snails?” Sweetie tilted her head. “Weird. Be right back, girls,” she said to Apple Bloom and Scootaloo before trotting off. A moment later, Rarity slipped through the crowd after her.

“So are you just visiting, or back for a while?” Apple Bloom asked.

Dash paused to give her a longer look. The huge red bow she had always associated with the filly was gone, replaced by a thin ribbon that wound through the long crimson braid of her mane. A thin paintbrush dipped in red ink adorned her flank; Dash remembered the chaos that had caused at the farm. The first Apple filly in generations not to have a food or farm-related cutie mark.

“Just a visit.” She turned back to the festival setup. Staring at another pony’s cutie mark wasn’t rude, but it wasn’t exactly cool either. “The Bolts never stop moving, you know? Got our first fall show in a few weeks.”

“Las Pegasus, right?” Scootaloo asked. “Will you be flying?”

“Uh, depends,” Dash hedged. “Got some new kids we’re trying out. Might let them fly instead, get some experience.”

“Oh.” Scootaloo’s ears dipped. “That’s cool too.“ She started to say something else, but stopped with a sudden hitch of her shoulders. She gave them both a weak smile and jumped into the air, vanishing with a blast of wind that set Dash’s mane fluttering.

Dash watched with a frown as Scootaloo circled around the town hall before vanishing above a low cloud bank. Years ago, she had to practically chase Scootaloo away. Miss a few shows, though...

Her thoughts must’ve shown on her face. Apple Bloom sidled up and gave her a little bump on the shoulder.

“She doesn’t care about the shows, you know,” she said. Her voice had lost any hint of Applejack’s country accent. “She just wants everything to be the way it was before.”

“Yeah, well...” The old Dash would’ve said something dismissive, about ignoring the past and seizing the future. Something optimistic. She stood in silence instead. All around, her past life continued its preparations for the festival.

New subject, then. “So, what about you? Not living out at the farm anymore, I hear.”

“Moved out last year. Easier for everypony, to be honest.”

“Don’t you miss them?” Some unseen signal passed through the crowd, and ponies began gravitating toward their tables. Dash glanced at the clock mounted in the town hall’s tower. The afternoon was nearly half over, and the shadows had shifted around her, drawing dark shapes across the square.

“Not yet. I still see them all the time.”

“Oh.” Dash followed behind Apple Bloom toward the growing crowd. “Wait, not yet?”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Moving to Manehattan in the spring. Already have an apprenticeship lined up with Ink Daub.” She paused a moment after the name, her eyes on Dash’s face. “He’s a pretty famous artist.”

“Oh, yeah, I think I’ve heard of him.” It was possibly true; Dash heard of lots of ponies. “Do you really need to move, though?”

She chuckled. “Ponyville isn’t for artists, Dash. It’s for ponies like my sister.”

“What about, uh...” There had to be an artist somewhere in Ponyville. “Rarity! She’s like an artist.”

“Yeah, and she left.” Apple Bloom shook her head. “C’mon, they’re about to start serving.”

* * *

“You okay?”

Rarity gave a little start. She had been staring at her food and gnawing on her lower lip before Dash took the seat
beside her. “I’m sorry, dear?”

“You look a little distracted.”

“Oh, yes.” She looked around, then lowered her head to whisper in Dash’s ear. “You won’t believe who I saw Sweetie talking to, just now.”

Dash bet she could. A tiny grin teased the corners of her mouth, despite her best attempts to quash it. “Who?”

“Snails!” She practically hissed his name.

“Whoa! Do you think there might be something between them?”

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine what she would see in a colt like that. You’d think that in a town of this size, a young unicorn mare could – oh, hello Pinkie.” Rarity’s tone flipped like a switch the moment she noticed Pinkie Pie standing behind them. Suddenly calm and poised, a true society mare.

“Hey girls.” Pinkie smiled at them. “I didn’t know you two were sitting next to each other.”

“Assigned seats.” Dash said. She tapped her tag for emphasis.

“So they are, so they are.” Her smile seemed a little more knowing than Dash was comfortable with, but she didn’t press the issue. “You two have fun, then! And don’t worry about your figure, Rarity. You look fine.”

Rarity waited until Pinkie left, then gave a sniff. “Well, I never.” She looked down at her chest, then craned her head around to view her hips. “I don’t look pudgy to you, do I?”

“Beats me, I think everypony looks fat.” Wait, that didn’t sound right. Rarity was glaring at her, too. “I mean, you know, compared to pegasi.”

“Seriously.” Rarity huffed. “Sometimes, Rainbow Dash...”

Dash waited for her to continue, but nothing else seemed forthcoming. Just as well, to judge by the expression on Rarity’s face. Maybe it wasn’t too late to change seat tags again.

“Hello Rarity, Rainbow Dash.” The scent of wildflowers intruded, and Dash turned to see Fluttershy taking a seat to her left. She was as graceful as ever, even with the extra weight she was carrying. “I didn’t see you earlier, Rarity. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Just a little fat, apparently.” Another glare.

“Oh, you’re not fat, Rarity,” Fluttershy said. “You’re very healthy.”

Rarity nodded sharply. “Thank you. See, Dash?”

“See what?” Dash let a bit of annoyance into her voice. A day of tiptoeing around Rarity’s delicate sensibilities was starting to wear. “I see a pregnant mare saying you don’t look fat to her.”

Whatever indignant response that would have provoked – and it would have, to judge by the narrowing of Rarity’s eyes – was forestalled by Twilight’s arrival at their table. She pulled out the pair of chairs to Rarity’s right with a quick bit of magic, then stood aside to give her companion a space at the table. The tall brown stallion at her side wore a white collar with a green tie and gave them a warm smile.

“Girls, I think you know Time Turner,” she said. She carefully avoided any direct contact with him as she sat. “He’s a friend.”

“A friend?” Rarity’s voice was carefully, studiously neutral, though her smile was not. “Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you – and I’ve heard so much about you!”

“You have?” “You have!?” They spoke simultaneously, though Twilight’s response seemed a tad panicky. He gave her a bemused look.

Rarity’s smile grew sharper. “Oh, just the usual things. A scientist, aren’t you? Why, Twilight’s a scientist, too. Tell me, how long have you been friends?” She drew the word ‘friends’ out just a hair longer than was necessary.

He opened his mouth, but Twilight beat him to the punch. “A while. We’ve been friends for a while. Good, good friends. Isn’t friendship amazing, Rarity?” Her stare could have set paper on fire.

“Hey boss,” Dash said. “Rainbow Dash. I think we met a few times when I lived here.”

He leaned back, as much to speak with her as to escape the crossfire between Rarity and Twilight, who continued their low banter around him. “Why yes, I think we did. Wonder Bolt, aren’t you?”

“Heh, yeah. Ever been to a show? I could get you and Twi some tickets.”

He glanced at Twilight, who was still trading jabs with Rarity. “I think that would be wonderful. Don’t you think, Sparky?”

“Huh?” Twilight jerked up from her hunched position, her snout just inches from Rarity’s as they whispered back and forth. Her ears flicked forward and a faint blush tinted her face a darker shade of lavender. “Yes, uh, that sounds... good?”

Further discussion was forestalled by the arrival of the first platter of food. A unicorn Dash didn’t recognize floated a huge tray larded with toasted vegetables slathered in sunflower oil and steaming in the crisp autumn air. A second tray followed, filled with tankards rich with the scent of cider and the sharp bite of alcohol.

With food before them, the conversation shifted to more prosaic topics – Fluttershy’s foal, Applejack’s plans for the farm, Pinkie’s next party, Twilight’s correspondence with Celestia. Even Twilight’s ‘friend’ chatted as amiably as though he had known them all for years.

Only when the topic turned to Rainbow Dash or Rarity did it begin to falter, for neither, it seemed, knew quite what to say. They had returned to Ponyville, Dash realized, but not the Ponyville they had left. It had moved without them, grown without them. The thought left her with an inexplicable sadness, despite the joy at the table all around her. Of the dozen mares and stallions seated beside her, only Rarity seemed to feel the same, and it was the same lost expression on her face that Dash thought she glimpsed for just a moment, in passing, between the words of an idle conversation.

The food was delicious, the drink without compare. The companionship was worth more than all the treasures in Celestia’s palace. And all of it, Dash viewed as through a window. It was other ponies’ happiness, their community, their joy. Her portion was a meager sip compared with their bounty. It was not her home anymore.

I never should have left.

She glanced at Rarity. The bright smile never left the unicorn’s face, but when her eyes met Dash’s, the corners seemed to slip. Rarity always wore a mask, Dash knew, and for the first time she could see it.

Ponies ate, and talked, and laughed. The community came together and lived. Hours flowed by like leaves upon a stream. And above, in ones and twos and then by thousands, the silent stars emerged to witness the slow resurrection of night.

* * *

“AJ!”

Applejack looked up sharply from her cart. It was mostly empty, all of her apples having been consumed by voracious townsponies during the festival. When she saw who called her, she set the cart’s tow bar down on the path and waited.

“Hey Dash. Need a lift?” She motioned toward the empty cart with her head.

“Little old for that, I think,” Dash said. “You got a sec?”

“Of course. What’s on your mind?”

Rarity. “Nothing, just wanted to chat, you know? Like, how are you, and stuff?”

Applejack raised an eyebrow. The silence stretched out between them. Dash could hear her heart beating in her ears.

“I’m fine, sug,” Applejack finally said in a slow drawl. “You sure there’s nothing special you wanted to talk about?”

“Well, uh...” Dash trailed off and glanced around. The festival was nearly deserted, with only a few ponies left helping tear down the tables and decorations. Rarity and Sweetie Belle had already returned to the Boutique. “It’s about Rarity, actually.”

“Oh, Rarity.” Applejack sounded anything but surprised. “I’m prolly not the best mare to ask about her.”

“Yeah...” Dash grimaced. It was true, unfortunately. Applejack and Rarity were about as far apart on her circle of friends as any two ponies could be. Almost as far apart as herself and Rarity, for that matter. The thought was sobering. “I know. But I trust you, though.”

“Huh.” Applejack chewed on that for a moment. “That’s a start, I guess. So, what about her?”

“Do you think she’s happy?”

“Happy? Like, Pinkie happy?”

“No, like...” Like what? Dash scowled and kicked at the dirt. “Like, is she really happy with things.”

“She says she’s happy. She acts happy. Ain’t that good enough?”

“Yeah, that’s good, but...” She looked around again. Still alone. “I was talking to her earlier. I forget what it was about. But she mentioned something about mistakes she’s made. And while we were eating, she just seemed... I dunno. Different.”

Applejack’s ears twitched at that, and she gave Dash a longer look. “That could mean a lot of things, sug. We’ve all made mistakes.”

“I know, but the way she said it was all... like, kinda dramatic.”

“Like Rarity.”

“No...” Actually, yes. Maybe she was reading too much into it. She turned the possibility over in her mind for a few moments. Applejack watched her in patient silence.

“Okay, maybe I’m being stupid,” Dash said. Celestia knew it wouldn’t be the first time. “It’s just... well, if one of us was in trouble, we’d help her, right?”

Applejack looked away. “Course we would, sug. That’s what …” She stopped to clear her throat. “That’s what friendship’s about, right?”

Dash smiled. Good old dependable AJ. She gave her friend a light chuck on the shoulder and was surprised when Applejack winced in response. She didn’t hit that hard.

“Well, hey, thanks for hearing me out,” she said. “Maybe keep an eye on Rarity, though? You know, if she’s around.”

“Sure will.” AJ’s smile seemed strained, for some reason. Probably just tired after a long day. “So, where you headed now? Back to your cloud?”

“Nah, Rarity’s letting me crash at Sweetie Belle’s. Pretty cool of her, huh?”

“Ain’t that where Rarity’s staying?”

“Heh, yeah, it’s pretty neat, actually.” Dash rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. “Me, hanging out at Rarity’s. Never would’ve thought that, huh?”

“I’ve seen stranger things.” Applejack picked the tow bar back up, settling it around her shoulders. “Not many, though. You take care, alright?”

“Will do.” Dash danced around the cart, as light on her hooves as ever, even without using her wings. “And thanks for all the apples!”

Applejack shook her head, though Dash could see the smile on her face. The night around her seemed less dark as she walked the short distance back to the Boutique.

* * *

Rarity and Sweetie were already asleep upstairs when Dash arrived. The lights were out, except for a single lantern left by the entrance to both guide and welcome her home. She blew the flame out as she passed by.

She considered joining Rarity in the spare bedroom but discarded the idea as impolite. The unicorn was probably already asleep, and it wouldn’t do to wake her up, especially if her presence might not be entirely welcome. Instead she felt her way through the darkness to the couch and settled atop it. The night was still warm enough that blankets were unneeded.

Rarity, Rarity, Rarity. She couldn’t put her hoof on it, but was something wrong with her, something different about the mature young mare she remembered from the past. Whatever it was, though, she kept it hidden well behind veils and masks. Rarity was the sort of pony who would insist things were fine, just fine, until the world crumbled around her.

Remind you of anypony?

She snorted. Sure, Rarity wasn’t the only stubborn pony in the world, but she took that illusion of self-control and ran with it further than anypony Dash knew. When it came to her personal life, Rarity did not ask for help. She probably wasn’t capable of it.

Whatever. It could wait until morning. Dash settled into a comfortable position on her side, closed her eyes, and willed her thoughts to silence.

Some minutes later, she opened her eyes, as wide awake as before. Well, crap.

Deep breaths, then. Slow in, until her lungs were full and her chest felt like it was about to burst. Then slow out, pushing every ounce of air from her body. Pause. Her heart slowed. Each individual beat shook her frame and trembled her feathers. Slow in. Hold. Slow out. Pause.

She could do this forever, taking only three or four breaths each minute. It was foals’ play at ground level, where the air was thick and rich. Up there, in the high airless reaches of the sky, her lungs were like frantic bellows, desperate to scrounge enough oxygen to keep her wings moving and her brain alive. Earth ponies and unicorns didn’t understand, didn’t realize they spent their whole lives wallowing in air. More than once, Dash had returned from an ultra-high flight coughing up blood. Pulmonary edema, the team doc called it, and scolded her for being reckless. Pegasus lungs could take a beating, though, and she laughed off his orders. Flying was life.

A twinge of discomfort teased her chest, and she realized she’d forgotten to breathe for nearly a full minute. She waited anyway, letting the ache slowly build in her lungs. It was one of her little games, one of the ways she tested herself and pushed the bounds of what was possible for a flyer. Another minute passed; her heart sped back to its normal pace and then faster. Her legs tried to squirm. She forced them to stillness.

A third minute, and she let the breath seep out through her pursed lips, followed by a shallow breath in. Nowhere near her record, but the goal tonight was to fall asleep, not practice breathing. She sighed and rolled onto her back.

Counting sheep? She didn’t even try. She never got above twenty before she got bored and her thoughts drifted to other things.

Counting sheep that’s so stupid who the hell thought of counting sheep anyway?

Insomnia was new to Rainbow Dash. Before the accident, whenever she shared a bed (or couch, or cloud, or tree) with Soarin, sleep had a way of finding her abruptly, usually after a vigorous bout of sexual activity. Not every night, but... well, okay, maybe every night. Even after shows, when most of the team collapsed in exhaustion, she and Soarin always seemed to have just enough energy left for a bit of fun.

Fuck, it’s worth a try.

She sat up on the couch and peered around the dark boutique. Her ears flicked about, searching for the creak of floorboards or the squeal of a door’s hinges swinging. Nothing. The home was silent and still. Only the faint rustle of dry leaves in the trees outside intruded.

Alone. Good. She lowered herself back to the couch and stretched, enjoying the scratch of the fabric against her coat – so much rougher than the cloudstuff she normally slept upon. She closed her eyes and ran the flat of her hoof along her abdomen. No patterns, no plans, just random light strokes.

In her imagination, another pony touched her. His hoof, broader and stronger than hers, teased her belly. Hot breath washed across her neck, followed by gentle lips and not so gentle teeth. She bit her lip and squeezed her thighs together. The pulse that followed from between her legs wasn’t quite pleasure yet, but it made her breath catch nevertheless.

It was his hoof now that brushed along her sides, tracing the cloud and bolt of her cutie mark. She bit her lip, half in anticipation, half to keep from spoiling the silence of the boutique with laughter. She was ticklish there, and he knew it.

Enough pretending. She slid her hoof between her legs to the hot coal hiding there. Swollen lips gave way easily to her touch, barely wet yet but eager for more. She let out a deep, shuddering breath and pressed against the nub of pleasure nestled within her folds.

She could smell herself now, a musky scent that did nothing for her but drove Soarin wild. By this point in their foreplay, his cock would start getting in the way of their nibbles and touches, and demand a firmer response from her. Her hoof slid easily between her lips now, slick with the first drops of her arousal.

On another night, she might have spent quite some time playing with herself, imagining different fantasies as her hoof rubbed faster and harder between her legs. But tonight, she simply wanted that release, and when it came it barely qualified as an orgasm, just a fleeting wash of pleasure that filled her pelvis, and just as quickly fled into the night.

It was enough, though. She rolled onto her side as a wave of exhaustion broke over her. She closed her eyes, and within seconds found the elusive peace of sleep.

* * *

The couch shifted beneath her. Dash mumbled quietly and pried her eyes open. Still dark. She pulled her forelegs under her chest and was about to push herself up when a quiet voice sounded in her ear.

“Shhh, shh... sleep,” it whispered. A warm, soft weight pressed against her side.

That seemed like good advice. She yawned, leaned against the new presence, and swiftly fell back into darkness.

Interlude: There's Been an Accident

The ruby button wasn’t quite perfect.

Rarity’s eyes narrowed the tiniest fraction of an inch, the only sign of her displeasure. For the past thirty minutes, she had tinkered with this damned coat, the last cold-weather item in her line-up for the year, but the button on its lapel simply refused to cooperate. It was either too big, too small, in the wrong place, wrong color, wrong shape, or simply out of order.

It wasn’t even a functioning button; there was no corresponding button-hole for it to mate with. It existed merely for decoration, which Rarity wasn’t sure she approved of in the first place. But in matters of fashion, one moved with the flow of public opinion, and public opinion this season said that ladies’ coats should have an extra button just above the left breast pocket. A simple spring coat was not the time or place to try something radically different; a coat was a coat was a coat. She just happened to make coats that were sublimely beautiful as well as functional.

Except for this one damn button, which wasn’t functional at all. She grunted quietly and set her needle down. A quick break with some tea would help her think.

She wandered over to her kettle, one of the new electric models that heated its own water. No magic, no fire, just electricity. It made her a little nervous every time she plugged it in, but as far as she was aware, no pony had been killed by one yet.

Rain mixed with sleet ticked against her window while she waited for the water to boil. Winter, according to the calendar hanging on her office wall, was due to end next week. The weather pegasi, however, apparently had no calendars up in the clouds. The weather had grown progressively worse over the past several days, from merely overcast skies to a cold drizzle to this mess. She stared out the window until it fogged from her breath, then sighed and turned away.

They’re getting ready for Winter Wrap-Up back in Ponyville. You could be there. It’s not too late to go home.

Except it was. She had a dozen orders on tap, all of which required her personal touch. Jaunt back home to Ponyville on a whim? Her customers would be incensed.

The kettle whistled for her attention. After a few moments of contemplation, she selected a nice jasmine blend from her collection and dropped the bag in the pot.

“Excuse me, Miss Rarity?” Her assistant, Thimble, stuck her head through the door. “There’s a telegram for you.”

“Just set it in the mail pile, dear,” Rarity said. She floated a pair of porcelain cups out of her cupboard. “Would you like some tea? I just brewed a pot of the jasmine.”

“Oh, no thank you, ma’am. The jasmine makes me a bit jittery.” The earth pony giggled. “The telegram was marked ‘urgent,’ though. Are you sure you wouldn’t like it now?”

Urgent? Rarity frowned. “Well, that’s different. Let’s take a look.” She floated the sealed envelope from Thimble’s grip and examined the label. It was from the Ponyville post office. A cold wash of fear broke over her. Sweetie Belle? She tore the envelope open and pulled out the single page inside.

TO RARITY STOP THERE HAS BEEN AN ACCIDENT STOP RAINBOW DASH IS HURT SOARIN IS DEAD STOP RETURN TO PONYVILLE I WILL MEET YOU AT THE TRAIN STATION AT SIX PM TODAY STOP TWILIGHT SPARKLE

To Rarity’s eternal shame, her first reaction was relief. It wasn’t Sweetie Belle. The guilt that followed such a selfish thought nearly caused her to vomit. A wave of dizziness spun through her head as the full meaning of the message settled in, and she realized she was sitting on her haunches.

“Rarity? Rarity? Are you alright?” Thimble’s face was just inches away, and her eyes were wide with alarm. “Is... is it your–”

“No,” Rarity said. Her voice sounded like it was coming from a thousand miles away. “Sweetie is fine. I need... I need to...” She paused to swallow – her mouth was suddenly dry as a stone. “I need to make a trip, Thimble. Can you and Weave hold the shop down for a few days? No, a week?”

“Uh...” Thimble took a step back. “Yes, I think we can. If we don’t take new orders, we can finish out the current projects. Can we use your fabrics?”

“Yes, of course. Anything.” Normally Rarity kept her own supplies of special fabrics and accessories for her projects. But Thimble and Weave were her most skilled apprentices, and if they were running the shop they would need the best materials. “Would you go tell the shop I’ll be gone for at least a few days? I need to visit some friends.”

“Yes, ma’am. Is there anything you need from us?”

Rarity glanced at the clock. It was already noon, and the train ride to Ponyville took several hours. She had to leave now.

“No, I’ll be fine,” she said. “Just keep things running here. You’ll do fine.” She pushed herself back to her hooves and stepped around Thimble to the door.

For the first time in her life, Rarity went on a trip without packing a thing.

* * *

“Destination?”

“Ponyville. The express, please.” Rarity pushed a wad of bits across the counter to the teller, a tan earth pony wearing a set of fashionable clerk’s glasses. He counted through them, then punched a few keys on the machine in front of him. Moments later, it spat out a thin stub of paper, which he tore off and pushed back to her.

“Thank you.” She gave the ticket a quick glance before trotting off to the departure platform. According to the stub, she would be arriving in Ponyville at 5:55 p.m. Of course Twilight would have checked the train schedule.

The platform was filled with about a dozen other mares and stallions, mostly earth ponies. One couple herded a trio of young fillies around the benches. Another older couple sat and watched them with smiles.

Soarin is dead. She barely knew him, but it was still a shock. She had known ponies who died, but only older mares and stallions whose time had come. Never something like this. Never somepony with as much life left in them as him.

And Rainbow Dash. Couldn’t Twilight have put at least a single word in that telegram, to say how bad she was hurt? She could be scratched or she could be dying, for all Rarity knew.

A colt about Sweetie’s age passed, a large bundle of newspapers on his back. He opened the display stand, pulled out the morning edition, and replaced them with several of the new papers. Rarity gave them an absent glance, then nearly tore the door off the poor display unit to pull one out.

“Three Killed in Cloudsdale Explosion,” read the headline. The grainy photo beneath showed a grey column rising from the ground below the city. Tiny specks – pegasi in flight – gave lie to the tremendous scale of the fire at the base of the smoke.

Oh Celestia, what happened? The article didn’t mention any names, but Soarin and Dash both lived in Cloudsdale. Barring some incredible coincidence, this had to be the accident Twilight mentioned in the telegram. Rarity skimmed the article for anything useful, but the text was distressingly low on real information. Even the barest facts were in dispute: nopony knew what caused the explosion, or how many ponies were hurt, or whether a smaller explosion had preceded the massive blast in the photo, as some witnesses claimed.

A loud whistle broke her concentration. The train to Ponyville was about to depart. Rarity folded the paper in half and boarded with the rest of the platform, and in minutes was on her way back home.

She stared out the window the entire ride. When the train arrived at five minutes until 6, she could not remember a single thing she saw.

* * *

“Rarity!” Twilight’s voice sounded over the babble of the crowd. Rarity craned her head around, wishing for not the first time that she were a tad taller. The ponies around her formed a pastel wall that only slowly cleared.

“Twilight!” she called. “Don’t move, I’m coming!” She shoved her way through the mass, muttering quiet apologies with each inadvertent shove. Eventually, she reached the edge of the platform, where Twilight Sparkle and Pinkie Pie stood waiting.

Twilight was a little frazzled. Bits of her mane had come loose and pointed in odd directions, and her wings looked like somepony had fluffed her feathers against the grain, but aside from that and the tightness around her eyes she seemed well.

Pinkie did not. Her normally bright coat was pallid, and her mane hung in limp curls around her neck and shoulders. Bright blue eyes latched onto Rarity the moment she emerged from the crowd, and when she trotted forward for a hug, it was with a wooden gait entirely unlike her usual bouncing self.

Rarity gave her friend a tight squeeze, then carefully pushed away. “How is she?”

“She’s hurt,” Twilight said. She gave Rarity a quick, perfunctory hug, then abruptly turned away and began trotting down the stairs to the street below the platform. “C’mon. The others are waiting at the balloon.”

“Balloon?” Her hooves slid on the wet cobblestones as she raced to catch up. Puddles stained her coat a mottled gray with each splashing step. “What balloon?”

“My hot air balloon.” Twilight kept her quick pace and glanced at the sodden skies. “We need to hurry. It’s getting dark.”

“Why do we need your balloon?” Rarity asked. She had never seen Twilight like this. It was more than a little disconcerting.

“It’s the only way to get all of us to Cloudsdale,” Twilight said. She picked up her pace, darting around a shuttered cabbage stand. “It’ll be tight with all of us, but it’s within tolerances.”

Yes. Five wet ponies stuffed in that little basket. Rarity grimaced at the thought. It would be cold up there, too, and she hadn’t brought anything but the light tan scarf she currently wore. “Can’t Fluttershy just, well, fly?”

“She’s already there,” Pinkie said. Rarity started in surprise; the earth pony was so quiet Rarity had forgotten she was there. “She flew up this morning.”

“They’ll be waiting for us at the hospital,” Twilight added. She didn’t even bother to look back over her shoulder as she spoke. “Now come on, it’s a long flight.”

* * *

“This... this is safe?”

“It’s perfectly safe.” Twilight was the first pony out of the basket after enchanting their hooves with her cloud-walking spell. Her feet sank a few inches into the cottony fluff beneath them, rather than plummeting through the mist and into the miles-deep chasm that was the air below Cloudsdale. Of course, she didn't need the spell, so that was less than comforting.

Applejack climbed half out of the basket, straddling the edge with one set of legs while she tested the cloudstuff with her hooves. Apparently satisfied, she hopped down beside Twilight. “Yup, just like last time.”

Right, just like last time. Except last time was filled with not-so-pleasant memories for Rarity. She let out a nervous breath and carefully climbed over the edge of the basket. After a quick, silent prayer, she let go and fell the last few inches.

“See? Safe,” Twilight said. She waited for Pinkie to join them on the platform, which was rapidly becoming crowded with curious pegasi. Apparently, unicorns and earth ponies were still a rare sight in Cloudsdale. “Now, where is he? He said he’d meet us here.”

“He who?” Rarity asked. She gave the cloud a careful stomp with her hoof, but it held easily. A small indent remained when she lifted her leg, gone a second later as the cloud reformed. Like walking on water.

“Cloud Fire,” Twilight said. She sounded distracted as she scanned the crowd. “He was supposed to—aha!” She stopped as an athletic young pegasus stallion dressed in the Wonder Bolt’s distinctive uniform alighted on their platform. He pushed his way through the crowd until he stood before them.

“Princess, ladies, thank you for coming.” His uniform, Rarity now saw, was in disarray, with several buttons undone and his rank insignia crooked, as though he had dressed in a hurry. He gave their feet a curious glance before continuing. “We had a chariot available, but I see we won’t be needing it. And you must be Rarity?”

Rarity gave a little start at being singled out. “Er, yes. Cloud Fire, was it? Delighted.” She turned her head to the others. “You’ve already met?”

“Yup. Cloudy was with the Bolts when they came to Ponyville last year,” Applejack said.

“You remember, the show you weren’t able to come home for?” Twilight’s voice was sharp enough to draw blood. Rarity actually flinched.

“Aha, yes, that one.” Rarity cleared her throat. “It’s just that things were so busy around the shop and all...” She trailed off. The others had already started moving, following behind Cloud Fire as he presumably led the way to the hospital. She hurried to catch up.

Well, fuck you too, Twilight.

* * *

Cloudsdale Memorial Hospital had real floors, Rarity was surprised to see. Actual linoleum, polished to a bright shine, clicked beneath her hooves. She said so to the girls, desperate for a new conversation topic.

“Hm?” Twilight glanced down, as if noticing for the first time. “Oh, right. It’s a law, I think. Nothing in here is made from clouds, in case they have to treat a unicorn or earth pony for some reason.”

“Or, more frequently, if a mare gives birth to a non-pegasus foal,” Cloud Fire said. “It happens more often than you’d think.”

“Bet that’s awkward,” Applejack chipped in.

“I hope to never find out,” Cloud Fire said. “Anyway, there’s a waiting room on the third floor we’re using. It might be a tad crowded in there, but we can kick ponies out if we have to. The captain says you five have priority.”

Five? Rarity’s head snapped up. “Is Fluttershy here?”

He nodded. “Got here a few hours ago. I don’t think she’s seen the LT yet. The docs won’t let anyone in.”

“The... el-tee?” Rarity whispered to Applejack. She wasn’t eager to advertise her ignorance to Twilight again so soon.

“He means Dash,” Applejack whispered back. “She’s a lieutenant.”

Right, that whole military thing. Rarity had never bothered to get all the details of the Wonder Bolts service to the crown. They didn’t seem like the guards she was used to at the palace, with their stern bearing and discipline. If anything, the Wonder Bolts had more in common with a fashion show than a soldier, strutting their stuff in front of cheering crowds, signing autographs, and meeting with throngs of fans. But apparently some vestige of their military origins survived in the form of ranks.

“Is Spitfire here?” Twilight asked. Their group stopped at an elevator at the end of the hallway and waited for the car to arrive. Rarity gave the sign beside the buttons a quick glance and bit her lip at what she saw.

3rd floor - Intensive Care Unit, Burn Ward, Flight Medicine, Neurology

“No, she’s meeting with the families.” Cloud Fire gave the already lit button an impatient tap. “She’s very busy right now.”

“And how are you?” Pinkie’s voice, unexpected, sounded from beside Rarity. They were her first words since arriving in Cloudsdale.

“I’m fine. I wasn’t at the training site today.” He gave the button another fierce stab with the tip of his hoof.

“I meant, how are you—”

“I said I’m fine!” Cloud Fire struck the button hard enough to crack the clear plastic cover. A moment later the light went out, and the doors parted to receive them.

It was a quiet ride to the third floor.

* * *

Fluttershy was waiting for them in, appropriately enough, the waiting room. She rose to her hooves with a graceful flap of her wings and trotted over to sweep them all into a group hug, with Rarity somehow squeezed beneath the two earth ponies. The experience left her wheezing for breath when they finally broke.

The silence stretched out as they held each other. Eventually, Cloud Fire cleared his throat.

“So, I’ve got to get back to the captain,” he said. “If you need any help, just ask one of the Bolts. They’ll be glad to help.”

Fluttershy looked up. “Will you be okay?”

More silence. Rarity bit her lip.

“Yeah,” was all he said. Without another word, he turned and left.

“He didn’t look okay,” Pinkie said. Her eyes were fixed on the door even after it swung shut behind him.

“He’s just upset,” Fluttershy said. She floated gently away from them, back to a row of empty seats. “He was supposed to be at the practice today, but he traded shifts with Soarin.”

Oh. Ohhhh. Rarity glanced back at the door. “Soarin... Is he...”

“He didn’t make it.” Fluttershy’s voice was subdued, but with none of the timidity Rarity remembered. Perhaps she had been gone from Ponyville too long after all.

“Right. That’s what the letter said, but...” She trailed off again. Why hadn’t anypony asked yet? Surely they were all wondering. “I’m sorry, I have to ask. How is she? When can we see her?”

“She’ll live,” Fluttershy said. The others looked at her with only slightly less stricken expressions. “They finished operating about an hour ago. The surgeon said they were able to save her leg.”

Save her leg? Fluttershy might as well have spoken in a foreign language, so thoroughly did Rarity’s mind fail to process that simple sentence. Save her leg?

“Can we see her?” Applejack asked. She took a tentative step toward the door.

“Not until she wakes up.” Fluttershy settled back onto her seat. “The doctors will have to assess her first. You should probably sit down. It will be a while.”

Save her leg? Seriously, what did that even mean? Rarity stood rooted to the spot while the others took seats in the row beside Fluttershy. Pinkie Pie and Applejack sat with their heads beside each other in low voices. Twilight worried at her hooves until Fluttershy gave her a gentle nuzzle.

Save it from what?

“Rarity?”

Surely they couldn’t mean that? She had never even seen a pony with a missing limb. How would that even work? Did they make special clothes for those ponies?

“Rarity, why don’t you sit down?”

And what would Rainbow Dash look like without a leg? Rarity simply couldn’t picture it. She could see Rainbow Dash, see that cocky grin on her face, but couldn’t imagine her hurt. She couldn’t imagine any of her friends hurt. Wounded. Less than whole. In pieces. Like Soarin.

“She’s going to—” The rest was lost as the world went grey.

* * *

“I’m sorry. I was a little... short with you back there, wasn’t I?”

“It’s quite alright, dear. It’s been a long day for all of us,” Rarity said. Beside her, a miserable-looking Twilight Sparkle moped in her seat, looking as beaten and worn as anytime Rarity could remember. Her head hung below her shoulders; her normally razor-straight mane was soft and frizzy, with errant tufts breaking away in every direction. Deep bags circled red, puffy eyes.

She looked like Rarity felt. Nearly ten hours had passed in the waiting room since she had fainted on the cold linoleum floor. It was not the most humiliating experience she had ever shared with them, nor was it even in the top three such moments, but that didn’t make it any more pleasant.

“Yes, but you didn’t deserve that.” Twilight sniffed quietly. “I’m sorry. Again, I mean.”

“I know.” Rarity leaned over to brush her cheek against Twilight’s shoulder. “But let’s worry about Dash, for now.”

“Right, Dash.” Twilight gave the waiting room door a furtive glance. It hadn’t budged since Cloud Fire returned over an hour before. Now he and Fluttershy sat beside each other, dozing quietly in their seats. In the next row, Pinkie and Applejack sat with their heads pressed together. Their ears flicked about with nervous energy, the only outward sign that they were still awake.

Pegasi, earth ponies and unicorns. What a coincidence. Even after all these years, she still thought of Twilight Sparkle as a unicorn, even though the princess's wings rubbed against her side with each breath. Rarity briefly considered sitting beside Fluttershy, just to break up the tribal groupings, but abandoned the idea as ill considered. Twilight needed her company, and the others were doing just fine with each other. There was no need to stir things up.

“So... what happens next?” Twilight whispered. “What do we do?”

“I think it depends on Dash’s... condition.” Rarity paused on the word and immediately wished she could take it back. Condition, like Dash was a young pregnant mare. She made a face at her stumble, but continued. “And we’ll need to help her through the funeral. Funerals.”

“Right, funerals.” Twilight’s eyes widened, as though she hadn’t even considered them yet. “How do they...” She cleared her throat. “I mean, what kind of ceremony do they perform?”

“I haven’t the slightest, I’m afraid.” Rarity had been to funerals, of course, but only for earth ponies or unicorns. Whatever rites pegasi performed for their dead, they did them far from the ground. The chilling thought occurred to her that they might not even be invited to the funeral.

“We can ask Fluttershy,” Twilight said after a pause. “She’ll know. She’ll know how to help Dash, too.”

That seemed like an optimistic assessment of the situation. Rarity held her tongue, though, and set her head back on her crossed forelegs. Twilight frowned at something only she could see, and they lapsed back into silence.

Some time later – hours, maybe? Rarity had lost track – the door squeaked open, and a pale yellow mare in a white uniform stepped in. She caught Cloud Fire’s attention and beckoned him out into the hallway. A moment later he returned, alone, and cleared his throat loudly enough to wake the still-dozing ponies.

“She’s awake. The docs are doing some tests, but we can start seeing her in a few minutes.”

“How is she?” one of the Wonder Bolts asked. Rarity hadn’t bothered to get his name – they all looked the same in their uniforms, anyway.

“She’s better,” Cloud Fire said. “No permanent damage, and her wings are fine. Very lucky.”

A terrible weight lifted from Rarity’s shoulders. A visible wave of relief spread through the small crowd, and a few smiles even broke out on their faces. Very lucky, indeed. Except, of course...

“Does she know?” Rarity asked. “About Soarin?”

Silence. Cloud Fire looked down at his hooves.

“Not yet.” He let out a long breath. “And I’ll be honest, I don’t know how to tell her. I’ve never done this before.”

“Well, someone has to,” Applejack said. “You can’t keep it from her.”

No one argued her point, but no one spoke to it either. Eyes darted around; ears twitched nervously, waiting for a pony to volunteer. For a moment, the collective gaze settled on Rarity, and panic clutched her heart. Me?! No, somepony else can do it, I can’t. I can’t, I can’t—

“I’ll do it.” Fluttershy’s voice, soft but steady, broke the stillness. “Applejack, can you come with me?”

“Uh...” Applejack took an involuntary step back, and only Rarity was close enough to see the flash of fear in her eyes. To the mare’s credit, though, it was gone in an instant. She gave Fluttershy a jerky nod and followed behind her out the waiting room. The awful silence descended again.

They stared at each other, the room full of ponies. They waited, unsure of what they waited for. The minutes ticked by, and it seemed to Rarity that their collective dread grew with each passing second. Only a door away, their friend’s life was about to be destroyed.

They were waiting for an execution.

Finally, a high sound broke through the quiet hiss of the ventilation system. A faint wail, like a crying foal, that rose and fell with the rhythm of breath. Louder, then softer. It pierced Rarity’s mind like a needle.

It was too much. She turned, and ignoring the shocked looks on her friends’ faces, simply left.

The Price of Loyalty

The couch was not really designed for two sleeping ponies, Rarity decided.

She was already awake and had been for some time. The first hint of sunlight spilling through the Carousel’s windows had always been enough to rouse her in the morning, and years later the habit was still impossible for her to escape. Even sleeping on the couch, something she had never done when she lived here, the urge to wake and rise with the sun felt so deeply ingrained that it might have dwelled within her very bones.

The couch in question was crowded with her and Rainbow Dash. The pegasus was like a cat, Rarity decided – she expanded to fill the space available to her. Managing to squeeze onto it herself had been an adventure.

But worth it. Dash’s wing was like the world’s softest blanket, its hollow bones humming in time with her pulse and as warm as a breath against Rarity’s coat. A soft, living blanket that cupped her close against Dash’s not-at-all soft side.

Dash’s face seemed almost childlike. The pride, the cockiness, the aggression, the pain, it all fled while she slept. Wisps of her garish mane fell in all directions, occasionally lifting away as Dash’s breath caught and tossed them. The strands were longer than Rarity remembered – either Dash had stopped caring, or she was experimenting with new styles.

A creak from the stairs caught her attention, and Rarity’s ears and eyes flicked toward them. Sweetie Belle was frozen in descent, her eyes wide as she stared at them. They held eye contact for a few long moments before Sweetie gave her a tiny nod and ascended the stairs again. Rarity faintly made out the sound of a bedroom door closing.

Nice of her. Should probably get up anyway, though.

True. Rarity let out a quiet breath and froze as Dash stirred against her side. The wing flexed, and for a moment Dash’s magenta eyes cracked open. She mumbled something, seemed to smile, and then settled back to sleep.

Rarity took the chance to slip out from beneath the wing. The air had a bit more chill than she expected, and she stepped quickly into the kitchen to start work on breakfast.

* * *

“So, did you sleep well?”

Rarity glanced across the countertop at her sister. They were the first words out of her mouth since arriving in the kitchen a quarter of an hour before. Sweetie gave her an innocent smile and went back to slicing a batch of strawberries into sections for their breakfast.

“Just fine, dear,” she said. She spoke softly out of deference to the sleeping Rainbow Dash in the next room, though her consideration was likely wasted. If the sizzle of waffles baking in the iron or the rush of water in the sink wasn’t enough to wake her, a quiet conversation was unlikely to either.

“Was the bed broken or something?” Sweetie slid the sliced strawberries onto a tray and floated a bunch of bananas onto the countertop. Her knife flicked expertly through the fruit, leaving it in coin-sized slices that she placed next to the strawberries. The tock-tock-tock of her knife hitting the cutting board filled the kitchen.

“I’m sure the bed is fine.” Rarity gave her sister an arch look, then flipped the waffle iron over and lifted the lid, releasing the sinful scent of toasted batter into the kitchen.

If this doesn’t wake Dash up, nothing will.

“Dash just happened to come back a little later than us, and got it in her silly head to sleep down there instead,” she continued. “Obviously I had to join her.”

“Ah, obviously,” Sweetie said. “Very cold down here at night, after all.”

“Yes. I’m glad you understand.” Rarity forked the waffle onto her tray and poured another batch of batter onto the still-sizzling iron. A curl of steam tickled her snout before she could snap the device closed again.

“By the way, do you make waffles every morning?” Rarity gave Sweetie’s hips a not-so-subtle glance. “These are not the healthiest things, you know.”

“Only for special occasions,” Sweetie said, pretending not to notice Rarity’s look. She popped a slice of banana with the peel still attached into her mouth and chewed it down before continuing. “And technically, you’re the one making waffles. I’m making fruit.”

“Ah, touché.” Rarity forked the second waffle onto her tray. Dash could eat them, she decided. “How many more do you think I should make?”

Sweetie glanced out into the living room at the still-dozing Dash. “Two more should do it. There’s whipped cream in the icebox behind you.”

The next few minutes were filled with the sundry minutia of breakfast: silverware, napkins, plates, cups of water and a pitcher of juice. Rarity flipped the last waffle onto her tray and levitated it over to the table, where Sweetie laid out the last of the fruit.

“Shall we wake your marefriend, then?” Sweetie asked. A small smile touched her lips.

Rarity let the bait pass. “Why don’t you grab her while I put some plates together, hm?”

Sweetie gave her a little pout, but when nothing further came she trotted into the living room to gather Dash up. Rarity heard a few faint words from her sister, followed by what sounded like a groaning whine from Rainbow Dash.

Eesh, pegasi. They’d sleep ‘til noon if we let them. Sometimes, Rarity wondered how cities like Cloudsdale functioned at all. But then there were pegasi like Fluttershy, who seemed more like earth ponies in their habits. Perhaps the stereotypes weren’t as accurate as she thought.

Rarity shook her head and turned her attention to the plates. She sliced one of the smaller waffles in half and set each half on a plate for her and Sweetie. The three remaining waffles she piled atop each other, loaded with berries, slathered with cream, and drizzled with melted chocolate. After a moment of consideration, she topped the small mountain of food with a single cherry and pushed the whole thing over to Dash’s seat. Perfect.

And just in time. Dash meandered her way into the kitchen a few steps behind Sweetie, rubbing at her eyes with the crook of her wing. She perked up immediately when she saw the waffles and barely managed a coherent “Good morning!” before diving into them with her bare hooves. Rarity winced at the mess.

At least she’s eating.

Right. She took her seat and daintily cut into her own waffle. Across from her, Sweetie stared at Dash with some mixture of awe and horror on her face. The pegasus was nearly half done, pausing only occasionally to chug down a mouthful of juice.

“So, Sweetie, any plans for today?” Rarity asked. “Meeting anypony?”

“Huh?” Sweetie had to tear her gaze away from the devastation in front of Dash. “Oh, just lessons for most of the day. And I’m sure I’ll be meeting lots of ponies.”

“Mm, anypony special?” Rarity took another bite. Please don’t say Snails. Please don’t say Snails.

“I consider all my friends special.” Sweetie plopped another banana slice into her mouth.

“She wants to know who your coltfriend is,” Dash blurted. After receiving a withering stare from Rarity, she blushed and tucked back into the waffles.

“Oh Dash, don’t be silly.” Sweetie’s grin was a mile wide. “Rarity knows she can always just ask me questions like that. We’re sisters after all.”

Ha! I will not lose that easily. Rarity ignored them both, instead giving her waffle all the attention it deserved. Their breakfast continued in contented silence; Dash somehow finished her plate well before either of the unicorns and had started to lick the whipped cream out of its dish before Rarity could wrest it away with a bit of magic and an exasperated glare.

“What?” Dash said. “It’s on the table!”

“It’s a condiment, you oaf.” Rarity set the now-licked-clean dish back on the table with a sigh. Sweetie seemed to find this unbearable funny for some reason.

“Be nice, you two.” She grinned at them both. “Anyway, what are your plans for today?”

That was an excellent question. Rarity gave Dash a quick glance; the pegasus looked back at her expectantly, her snout smeared with cream and berries and even a bit of fudge. It was enough to provoke another sigh, at least her third of the day.

But it also gave her an idea. She rubbed her chin with a hoof.

“Well, first we’re going to wash you up...”

* * *

“Really? Weren’t we like, just at one of these?”

“That was a spa, Rainbow Dash,” Rarity corrected. “This is a salon. You’ve been to salons before.”

Dash blew her hair out of her eyes. “Yeah, but not this one.” She paused at the door to take in the sign above them, a stylized mane with flowing script announcing the store’s name: Fancy Cuts.

“Seems kinda fancy,” Dash said.

“Nothing wrong with that. It opened while we were gone, but Aloe said it’s the best place in town, ever since Silver Shears left for Manehattan.” Rarity gave a little sigh. Silver Shears had been her stylist for years when she lived in Ponyville; hearing that she had left for bigger and better things was yet another reminder of what she had missed.

“I’m not getting my mane styled, Rarity.”

“And you don’t need to get it styled if you don’t want.” Rarity pushed the door open and stepped inside. The decor was about what she expected from an upscale salon, with a well-furnished waiting area, numerous potted plants, quiet music and bright light. A surprisingly young-looking olive mare with a simple, almost plain dark mane smiled as they entered and stepped toward them.

“Hello! Welcome to Fancy Cuts.” As she approached, Rarity saw that her mane had actually been carefully feathered with a razor and seemed to flow weightlessly around her ears. “Do you have an appointment?”

“I’m sorry, darling, we just arrived from Fillydelphia the other night.” Rarity’s socialite mask fell into place effortlessly. She gave the mare a sly, knowing smile. “I’m afraid my friend here hasn’t seen a stylist in far too many months, and I could use a bit of a touch-up myself. Any chance of fitting us in this morning?”

The mare made a show of turning to inspect the empty salon. “Hm, I think we can squeeze you in. Just manes, or coat and tail too?”

They both turned to Rainbow Dash, who fidgeted under their combined gaze. Aside from the unkempt mane, her tail had grown long and shapeless, and her coat wasn’t much better. Pegasi pelts were generally thicker than earth pony or unicorn coats, on account of the bitter cold high in the air, but Dash was well on her way to looking shaggy around the hooves and the tips of her ears. They tsked in unison.

“Let’s go with everything,” Rarity said.

* * *

The olive mare, whose name turned out to be Olive, wielded her scissors with dexterity that bordered on magical. She was one of those rare earth ponies, Rarity decided, whose skill left even the best of unicorns gaping in the dust. The stylized, curved, and wickedly pointed scissors on her flank were a testament to the wisdom of her chosen career.

“You have such a beautiful mane,” Olive said as Rarity was seated. She ran her hoof along its curve. “You do it yourself?”

“Just in the mornings, I’m afraid. I can usually fix it if something goes wrong during the day, but of course I need it trimmed from time to time.”

“Mm.” Olive spent another few moments inspecting Rarity’s mane. She lowered her voice before continuing. “Be honest with me, ma’am...”

“Oh, just Rarity, please.”

“Rarity, you had this trimmed only a few days ago.” She stopped to inspect the tip of one of Rarity’s curls. “I assume you’re only here for your friend, then?”

Ouch. Caught in one of her schemes, and less than an hour after breakfast. Rarity scowled in annoyance, entirely at herself. “Yes, as you can see, she’s not the type to visit a salon by herself. Do you think you could just give me a shampoo, then?”

Olive chuckled. It was a deeper, far more sultry sound than Rarity expected from such a young mare. “I think I can do that. No charge, either – bringing in a new customer and all.”

“Mm, you’re such a dear. How did you ever come to Ponyville?”

Across the room, while Olive and Rarity engaged in the typical chit-chat that filled salons the world over, Dash had taken a seat at a sandy unicorn mare’s station. Rarity couldn’t quite make out what they were saying to each other, but it apparently required some wild gesticulations on Dash’s part, complete with pointing to her mane and tail. The sandy mare seemed unimpressed.

“So, what’s your friend there do?” Olive breathed in Rarity’s ear.

“She’s a Wonder Bolt, actually,” Rarity said. She could no longer see Dash anymore, having been tipped back in her seat for the shampooing. “Rainbow Dash. She used to be one of the more prominent citizens of Ponyville, until she moved out a few years ago.”

“Mm.” They were quiet again for a while as Olive worked the shampoo into a lather. Her hooves were soft and gentle as they tugged at Rarity’s mane or kneaded her scalp. It was almost as good as a massage from the Lotus twins, with the added benefit of getting her make sparkling clean. Rarity felt herself drift off into a state of happy semi-consciousness, interrupted abruptly when Olive whispered to her again.

“Is she seeing anypony?”

That. That was a terrible question, and nearly sent Rarity bolting upright. Only years of practiced indifference kept her in her seat. Even so, Olive must have felt the sudden jolt her question provoked.

“Ah, of course, I’m sorry. I should have realized.”

“No, it’s quite alright,” Rarity said. She took a deep breath, as much to stall for time as for the air it provided. “It’s just, well...”

It’s just what? You know the answer. She’s single.

“It’s a bit complicated,” she finished. “You’d have to ask her.”

Wow, what a cowardly way out of answering that question. Even a lie would’ve been better – at least then you’d be honest to yourself about your own desires.

Rarity snorted quietly. Sometimes the craziest ideas got in her head. What possible reason could she have for lying about Rainbow Dash? Why, seeing Rainbow Dash with somepony would be marvelous. It would be her greatest accomplishment in months. Just the thought of Rainbow Dash...

Rainbow Dash and Olive giggled as they ducked through the dim shadows on the edge of the Everfree Forest. It was a lonely place where few ponies trod, fearful of what the woods might contain, and in time they had come to see it as their special hideaway. The ferns beneath them were soft as they rolled in the underbrush, their hooves dancing over each other’s bodies, their tongues licking the salty sweat from each other’s pelts.

Eventually their play came to an end, and another sort of play began. Olive pushed the smaller mare down and nipped at her neck, drawing a quiet moan from Rainbow Dash. Lower and lower her lips went, preceded by her hooves, until Dash was a writhing mass of wings and legs. Olive smiled wickedly, and extended her tongue to lick—

“I’m sorry, I meant to say, she’s seeing somepony,” Rarity said. Her face felt flushed, and she hoped Olive assumed it was from the hot water.

Olive’s hooves paused for a moment. “I see. Ah well, can’t win them all, can we?”

No, one certainly could not. Rarity let out a quiet breath and tried to relax into the shampooing.

Good work. It’s probably for the best that no one else tries to be friendly with her. Wouldn’t want to see her break out of that shell she’s in, after all. Remember, as long as she’s depressed, she’s all yours. Fuck that whole generosity thing.

“Actually, I believe I misspoke. She is single, now that I think about it.”

The pause in the massage was longer this time. When it resumed, Olive had nothing to say. But Rarity did catch her sneaking glances across the room, where Rainbow Dash sat fidgeting under the unicorn’s attention. A carpet of rich, brilliant strands of hair had already begun to form on the chair around her, and slowly grew as Rarity watched.

* * *

“Well, somepony’s looking a little better,” Rarity said.

For once, Rainbow Dash didn’t seem annoyed by the attention. Her mane was cut back to what Rarity remembered from years ago, perhaps even a bit shorter down her neck, almost martial in style. Her tail was a good hoof’s length shorter now, and tapered to a fine point that just barely missed the ground as she swished it back and forth. Her fetlocks and ears were trimmed to a sober buzz, and it seemed the stylist had gone over most of the rest of her body with a set of shears, leaving a thinner coat that sparkled in the light.

Dash scratched at her chest with a hoof. “Feels weird, being this short,” she said. “Lighter.”

“Yes, well.” Rarity glanced back at Dash’s chair. The unicorn stylist was sweeping up what looked like a bucket’s worth of mane and coat clippings. “It looks much better, darling. More like I remember. Try not to mess it up, hm?”

“No promises.” Dash gave her a grin. She shook herself again, this time dislodging a small cloud of blue clippings.

“And promise not to do that back at the Boutique, hm?” Rarity gave her a little bump with her shoulder, then moved to the register. Olive followed them and rang up their sale; the shampooing, Rarity saw, was free after all. She mentally added a few more bits to the mare’s tip.

Dash sidled up beside her while Rarity counted out the requisite bits. “Whoa, that much for a haircut?”

“It’s a styling, dear. Not the same thing.”

“Huh.” Dash scratched at her chest again. “Well, at least let me pay for lunch.”

Hm. It went against her instincts to let a friend pay for anything, but Rarity knew from experience that some ponies hated having everything handed to them. Sometimes, generosity was about more than bits. She gave Dash a little nod.

“If you like. Anyplace in mind?”

* * *

In retrospect, letting Dash choose their lunch was probably a mistake. Rarity reflected on this as Dash ordered three fried melon-ball shish-kebabs, two apple fritters, a pitcher of lemonade, a daisy and wheatgrass sandwich, banana custard, and a single orange from the street vendor set up outside the new Ponyville park. The gangly, acne-plagued colt behind the counter dutifully took her order and dropped most of Dash’s food in the fryer to cook.

“And for you, ma’am?” The colt gave her an awkward but sincere smile. Braces too.

“I’ll have, uh...” She scanned the menu for something with fewer than an entire day’s worth of calories. “You know, just give me an orange and some water.”

“C’mon Rares, I said I was paying.” Dash gave her a light chuck on the shoulder. “I’m not poor, you know.”

“Right, it’s just...” She gave the menu another look. It hadn’t changed – still street food. “Uh, make it two oranges, I suppose.”

“There you go. Ooh, thanks!” Dash grabbed her apple fritters from the counter and downed them in a grand total of four bites. The cook gawked at her.

“So, is this what you normally eat?” Rarity asked. She did her best to ignore the smudge of apple filling on Dash’s cheek as she peeled her orange and pulled it into dainty wedges. It was surprisingly juicy and rich, far better than the fruit she normally ate in Fillydelphia. She gave the rind a quick look for a sticker that might show where it was grown but found nothing. Local produce, perhaps?

“Yeah, well, when you’re on the road for a show you eat whatever you can.” Dash had already finished two of the melon shish-kebabs while Rarity was peeling her orange. “Sometimes the team gets invited to a fancy dinner or something the night before a show, but we usually just shake hooves and talk at those.”

“Not much for cooking?”

“Heh, no. Soarin tried sometimes, but he wasn’t as good as he thought.”

“Mm, I think that’s just how stallions are, darling.”

Dash opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the arrival of the rest of her lunch. She turned to collect it, paid the colt, and seemed to have forgotten what she was going to say when she returned with her food. The little smear of apple filling was still on her cheek.

“So, where to?” Dash asked.

Rarity turned to the park, then spun in a slow, full circle to inspect the entire town around them. So much was new. Even the skyline had changed.

“Let’s just walk.”

* * *

“You know, they say you can never go home again,” Rarity said.

She and Rainbow Dash had spent most of the past hour wandering Ponyville's streets, taking turns pointing out the houses, buildings, fountains, streetlights, parks and shops that had appeared in their absence. Just a year had passed since her last visit, and barely five years since she had called this town home, but it had changed almost beyond recognition. They stopped in front of a playground filled with rambunctious foals, all running and shouting and playing with the unrestrained energy of youth. Off to the side, mares and stallions engaged in quiet conversations, occasionally casting a glance at their children.

“Yet here we are,” Dash said.

“But is this really home, anymore?” Rarity looked over at Dash. She wasn't smiling, per se, but the walk through Ponyville seemed to have lifted her spirits.

Dash looked up at the cloudless sky. “Home changed while we were gone, I guess. Still nice to visit, though.”

That it was. Rarity had only been in Ponyville three days, but she was already planning to write her staff in Fillydelphia and tell them not to expect her for at least another week. Sweetie Belle surely wouldn't mind the company, she told herself, and it wasn't like she was moving back in. Just visiting for a little longer than expected. She glanced at Dash and wondered if she might consider the same thing.

They resumed their walk and eventually came to the edge of the town. The Whitetail Woods stretched to the west, its pleasant, sunny confines broken with innumerable meadows and glades. To their left, a wide pasture, empty in the autumn morning, beckoned to Rarity. She stepped off the path into the long grasses, not caring if any stuck to her coat or if her hooves got dirty. That would just be another excuse to visit the spa again, she reasoned.

“We don't have spaces like this in Fillydelphia,” she said when Dash caught up. “We have parks, but they're filled with short stubble and a few trees, and they're always so crowded.” She looked around the pasture; the waving grass extended for hundreds of yards in every direction, dotted here and there with late wildflowers. Insects buzzed around them, and in the distance birds filled the air with their cries.

“You miss this?” Dash asked, after some time had passed.

“A little,” she admitted. “Not as much as Applejack or Fluttershy would... but yes, I do miss this.” She lowered her head to consider a wild daisy. It smelled earthy and fresh, and she took it from its stem with a single bite.

“I miss napping outside, on a cloud,” Dash said. She looked up at the clear blue sky. “There's not much time for naps anymore.”

Rarity took her time chewing the daisy while she thought. “I've been meaning to ask you, actually. I don't think I've seen you fly since we got back to Ponyville.”

To her surprise, Dash actually smiled. “Yeah, I don't fly as much anymore.”

Rarity stared at her in shock. She would sooner have expected Twilight to swear off books. “Why?”

“The joy is gone, Rares.” Dash pawed at the earth, exposing the fresh black earth. “I spent years and years trying to be the world's best flyer, and look where it got me.”

Oh Celestia, what do I say? She was finally starting to chip away at Dash's shell, and she had no idea how to continue. Her tongue felt dead in her mouth. Finally, she said the first thing on her mind.

“It got you here. I'm here too.”

Dash looked up at her. Those scarlet eyes had never seemed so deep. A tiny smile tugged up the sides of her mouth.

“Heh, good point. Maybe here's not so bad.”

Rarity dared take a breath. She had no idea where those words had come from. She wasn't even sure what they meant.

“I just needed a break. From the Bolts, from performing, even from flying. It was too much after Soarin died.” Dash sat back on her haunches. “We did everything together, but most of all, we flew together.”

Rarity stepped toward her friend and sat beside her. The amber grasses tickled her rump. “I don't think he'd have liked that.”

To her surprise, Dash nodded. “I know. You're not the first pony to ask. But just because something's right doesn't make it easy.”

Ain't that the truth.

Rarity chose her next words carefully. “Be that as it may, Dash, it's still the right thing. We've all been a bit worried about you, and... well... It would make me very happy to see you fly again, someday.”

Dash didn't answer for a while, and Rarity didn't press her. The noon sun rose high above them, chasing away the autumn chill lurking on the breeze. Insects buzzed around them, curious at the two intruders in the pasture, but nothing disturbed their introspection.

Well, at least she knows we care. A small victory, but better than nothing. Rarity suppressed a sigh and got back on her hooves.

“You know,” Dash said, surprising her. “Maybe it has been too long.” She stood and flexed her wings, her eyes up on the sky.

Rarity blinked. “It's up to you, dear. I think you're ready, though.”

“Right.” Dash glanced around the sky, and Rarity realized she was looking for other pegasi. “Hey, stand back a bit?”

Rarity did as she was told without really knowing why. Dash took off next to them all the time when they lived in Ponyville. Perhaps she was nervous about her style, or being clumsy in the air? Rarity was about to tell her not to worry when Dash's wings rose with blinding speed.

Most pegasi, when they wanted to fly, gave a little hop. More athletic ones might leap into the air off their hind legs. Some just started flapping until they had enough lift to glide along.

Rainbow Dash left the ground like she was shot from a cannon.

There was no intermediate stage between resting and flying. Her wings came down with more force than Rarity could have dreamed was possible, and then there was only a cloud of dust where she had stood. The backwash from her sudden flight flattened the grass for a dozen yards around and nearly knocked Rarity off her feet.

And there goes my mane. The irreverent thought flashed through Rarity's head as she waved away the dust and fragments of grass drifting around her. She squinted up at the unblemished sky to see the dark speck that was Rainbow Dash soaring through the air. Her wings were held against her side as she tumbled at the top of her arc, and as she fell, only one extended, tipping her into a corkscrew spiral that gracefully augured toward the earth. A hundred feet from the ground, her other wing rose to stabilize her, and she soared above Rarity's head with blistering speed. Her wingtips cut twin vapor trails in the air that slowly dissipated in the breeze.

And then The Rainbow Dash, Wonder Bolts Lead Solo, really began to fly.

At the edge of the pasture she turned into a sweeping bank. A dark contrail appeared behind her, and within seconds she had traced a giant circle in the sky, nearly half a mile across, with Rarity at its center. Dash's wings beat faster as she began another lap, and a strong breeze churned through the grasses, pushing them flat against the ground. Loose leaves lifted into the air all around Rarity, and a rumble like distant thunder, unceasing, sounded from all around her.

Rarity risked a glance away from the pegasus. The overlapping contrails were drawing tighter with each lap, and the whipping winds pushed violently at her. Above her, the loose bits of grass and dirt and branches and anything else not securely held down spiraled up, up, up. A thin, rope-like cloud was starting to appear high above her.

This doesn't seem safe. The funnel cloud above her grew darker as Dash's orbit drew tighter and tighter. The contrails she had traced through the air flowed toward the funnel, turning it angry and black even as its pinnacle soared thousands of feet into the air. The trees lining the pasture began to bow with the wind.

Dash's form vanished in the dark clouds, replaced by a series of prismatic sparks that left pinpoint afterimages in Rarity's eyes. Red, yellow, blue, the flashes grew stronger as she flew ever faster, until they were a solid line of ever-shifting light that lit the clouds from within. A terrible roar, like a train racing by only feet away, filled the pasture. The ground beneath her hooves quaked.

The funnel cloud—no, she mentally amended, the tornado began to dip toward the earth. The wind shrieked around her like something alive. The bright noon sun was gone, eclipsed by clouds as thick and dark as coal. If you're going to do something, Dash, do it now!

Dash couldn't have heard her thoughts, of course, but at that moment she changed her course. The bright rainbow spark dove into the side of the tornado, and an instant later the entire storm exploded in a blinding flash of color. When Rarity opened her eyes several moments later, the sun was back, and not one but a dozen rainbow rings slowly expanded their way across the sky. The highest appeared to be miles above the ground.

There was a loud thud beside her. She turned to see Rainbow Dash, her mane wildly askew, grinning up at the sky.

“Not bad, huh?” she said. “Can you believe the Bolts won't let me do that in shows? I'll probably get in trouble for doing it here, if any of them find out.”

“That was... simply amazing... darling.” Rarity's ears still rang from the storm, and she had to force herself not to yell. The shock of standing directly beneath such a violent storm slowly faded into memory, replaced by a sense of accomplishment. She's smiling. She's smiling!

“Yeah. I call it the Rainbow Torna— whoa, uh...” Dash trailed off, her eyes wide as she looked at Rarity for the first time since landing. “Hey, um, you're mane's a bit... uh...” She made a vague gesture with her hoof in Rarity's direction.

Rarity felt at her mane with a hoof, and what she felt was grim. Her coat, she noticed, was plastered with bits of wet grass and leaves. Her legs were splattered with mud nearly to her belly.

“Yes, so I see,” she said. “As exhilarating as that was to watch, Dash, I think the Bolts may have been onto something about it.”

“Heh... maybe?”

“Anyway, why don't we head back to town,” Rarity said. “I think I could use another bath after that.”

* * *

The Lotus Luxury Spa would, of course, never accept a customer as filthy as Rarity felt at that moment. Friends were friends, but the spa still had standards to uphold. Rarity knew better than to even try knocking at their door or visiting Olive’s salon again.

Fortunately, her other friends had somewhat lower standards.

“Hey girls!” Twilight Sparkle said, greeting them in the castle foyer. “Did you see that incredible storm up north? What an amazing low pressure system! And then the way it dispersed... er... are you alright, Rarity?”

“Just fine, dear,” Rarity said. She wiped her hooves off as best as possible before stepping onto the crystal floor of the main hall. “I'm afraid I got caught out in that very storm. Would you mind if I used your washroom for a minute?” Or ten?

“Oh, never. Go right on up.” Twilight smiled at Dash and gave her a little nuzzle, then turned and trotted after Rarity. “If you don't mind my asking, though, why do you need my washroom? Don't you have one at the boutique?”

Rarity did, in fact, have an enormous bathroom back at the boutique. For years it had held the largest bathtub in the entire town, aside from the ones in the spa. Twilight's castle held several larger tubs, of course, but that was hardly a fair comparison to a private home. “Oh, well, it's such a long walk back there,” she said before lowering her voice to a whisper. “Dash just had a bit of a breakthrough. I'd rather have somepony she can talk with, rather than sit around waiting for me.”

Twilight nodded. “Got it. Take your time, then.” She turned back to Dash with a chipper smile on her face. “Hey Dash, want me to brew some tea? We'll probably be waiting a while.”

Ha! Et tu, Twilight? Rarity flicked a bit of dirt in Twilight's direction, then trotted up the stairs before she could retaliate. Twilight's spacious private bathroom was just as Rarity had remembered it from her previous visits – even the towels appeared to be the same. Rarity gave the whole room a sigh and pledged to help Twilight redecorate at some point. Anyway, let's see how bad the damage is. She trotted to the mirror and scowled at her reflection.

It could have been worse, she supposed. Her mane would have to be completely restyled, but at least there wasn't honey in it, as had happened before during one of Sweetie Belle's adventure's with the Crusaders. Her coat and hooves would be fine once she got them washed off. Her tail was a bit crooked, but it could probably be fixed with a brush. She stuck her tongue out at the mirror, then trotted to the bathtub and began running the tap. Once the water flowing from the faucet was steaming, she held each of her hooves beneath it until the dirt had washed off and down the drain.

While the tub filled, Rarity nosed about the bathroom. She was wrong about it, she realized – there were a few changes. The hyper-organized Twilight had carefully arranged the sink, and now there were two of most items: two toothbrushes, two curry combs, two sets of hoof clippers. Rarity recognized the signs instantly – somepony was sleeping over here fairly often. Well, good for her.

The tub was about halfway full. Rarity twisted the faucet shut and slowly climbed in, hissing and wincing as she lowered herself into the steaming water. Maybe a bit too hot.

How nice that Twilight found somepony. So introverted, but she still found love. Unlike you.

Rarity frowned. Twilight apparently only had generic shampoos and conditioners, rather than the herbal mixtures and combination washes Rarity preferred. She popped the cap on one bottle and gave it a careful sniff. It wasn't even scented!

You know what your problem is? You think you're too good for love. So you make up some ideal mate that doesn't exist and never will, and refuse to settle for less.You'll never find anypony.

Rarity stifled a laugh at her own thought. Her, never find a special somepony? She had the busiest love life of any mare she knew. She could – and did – date the most desirable unicorns in Fillydelphia. She was not alone.

That's not a love life. That's having casual sex with stallions whose names you can barely remember. Is that what you thought you'd be doing in Fillydelphia? Sorry to say, but if all you wanted was cock, you could have gotten that any—

Rarity ducked her head under the water. It wouldn't help her mane any, but frankly her mane was beyond the level of help that could be had in a bathtub. She shook her head vigorously, blew out a rush of bubbles, and surfaced with a gasp.

There was a knock at the bathroom door. Rarity started in surprise, nearly dropping the bottle. “It's open!” she called.

The door opened a crack, and Rainbow Dash stuck her head in. She glanced around the room quickly before her gaze ended on Rarity. “Hey, uh, Twilight wants to know if we can stay for dinner.” A pause. “Oh, and Spike's cooking, not her. She said to mention that.”

Well, as long as it was Spike. “I think that's a wonderful plan. I will if you will.” She realized she was hiding beneath the water and straightened back up. There wasn't much reason to be shy around Dash, especially after their spa trip the other day.

“Okay, I'll let her know,” Dash said. She stood silent for a moment, her eyes still on Rarity's face, then suddenly added, “Your mane looks really nice like that.”

Rarity had no answer. Dash gave her a weak grin and vanished out the door, which closed behind her.

* * *

Some time later, after the water had begun to cool, Rarity made her way back down the stairs. The light outside had taken the warm glow of early evening, the blue sky beginning to grey and the sun a fat orange orb above the horizon. Rainbow Dash and Twilight were chatting quietly in the library on a pair of pillows. Some blissful smell, earthy and rich and autumnal, filled the room. Her mouth started to water immediately.

“Hey, Rarity,” Twilight said. Her horn glowed and another pillow zipped across the floor toward them. “You're looking better.”

“Thank you, darling.” Rarity lay on the offered pillow, tucking her hooves under her. She elected not to even try styling her mane, and simply let it hang across her face and neck. Her coat, at least, was scrubbed as clean and white as ever. “Remind me sometime to get you some real shampoo, though. That scentless, generic stuff you have simply isn't fit for a real mare.”

“What do you mean?” Twilight tilted her head. “There should be a full bottle of lavender and sweet pea shampoo up... oh, you must've used his.”

And suddenly Rarity felt dirty again. She tried to keep the scowl off her face.

“Huh? His who?” Dash asked. She looked between them with puzzlement on her face.

“Uh, nothing!” Twilight clamored to her hooves. “Hang on, I need to, uh, check on the food! Spike!” Twilight trotted past them into the kitchen with more speed than was strictly necessary.

Dinner turned out to be pumpkin soup, served in bowls of hollowed-out pumpkins, garnished with sprigs of sorrel and generously flavored with nutmeg. Rarity tried to estimate how many calories it had, but gave up after the first spoonful. Some things were too sumptuous to worry about.

“Spike, this is really quite delicious,” she said, looking up at the dragon. Even sitting on the floor, he was still a head taller than all of the mares. His light purple scales had begun to slowly fade into a darker amethyst, and the spines on his head were now truly worthy of his name.

“Thanks, Rarity,” Spike said. His voice, disconcertingly, was still as high and juvenile as she remembered. “I get a lot of practice. We'd starve if Twilight cooked.”

“Ha ha, mister.” Twilight shot him a scowl, but Rarity could see the amusement in her eyes. “I do well enough when you're not around.”

“That's because you order out every night,” he said.

Dash snickered. Twilight opened her mouth to answer, apparently couldn't come up with anything, and tucked back into her soup instead.

The rest of the meal passed quietly. Dash finished her soup and ate the bowl before either of the unicorns were even half done, and filled the time chatting with Spike. Rarity gave the bowl a few bites before abandoning it as a bridge too far. Her stomach was already pleasantly stuffed.

“Hey, are you going to finish that?” Dash asked, her eyes on Rarity's pumpkin. Rarity chuckled and passed it over.

The pumpkin soup was followed by after-dinner ciders, fresh from Sweet Apple Acres. Spike served a glass to each of the mares, then whispered something in Twilight's ear. She gave him a nod and a sisterly nuzzle on the cheek, and he walked out the door. He nearly had to duck, Rarity noticed.

“Where's Spikey going?” Rarity asked.

“Hm?” Twilight looked up from her cider. “Oh, he doesn't really live here anymore. He's still my number one assistant, but he wanted a place of his own. Some kind of dragon thing.”

For some reason, that struck a tiny pang in Rarity's chest. Obviously it wasn't any of her business where Spike lived, but he and Twilight had always been an inseparable pair. Twilight and Spike, librarian and assistant. Another sign that the world she had left in Ponyville was gone.

How maudlin. Seriously, try to be happy for once?

Rainbow Dash caught her eye and smiled. “Can't go home again, huh?”

Rarity sighed quietly, covering her mouth with her cup. Alas, Dash was right. Home changed while they were gone.

* * *

The after dinner-ciders were followed by after-dinner wines, which did much more to raise Rarity's spirits. When the crystal castle sprung from the ground after Tirek's defeat, it came with a well-stocked wine cellar in the basement, and in all their years in Ponyville the girls had barely managed to dent it. Even by the standards of Fillydelphia, the Riesling they were enjoying was delightful – dry and spicy with just a bit of bite. They huddled together on their pillows, voices low in conversation broken by occasional giggles. Outside, the sun had fallen beneath the horizon, giving way to a crescent moon that dimly lit the night.

“So, Twilight.” Rarity paused to take a sip from her glass, letting the wine sit on her tongue for a moment before swallowing. “I couldn't help but notice all the extra things in your bathroom. Two toothbrushes, two combs, and of course far more shampoo than a single mare could ever need.”

Twilight blushed as fiercely as Fluttershy used to and tried to hide her snout behind her hooves. When that did nothing to stop Dash and Rarity from laughing, she blushed all the more, and took a long drink from her wine glass.

“Yes, it's a bit, ah, more convenient that way,” she finally said. “He has his own drawer, too. I guess that's not uncommon?”

“Oh no, dear, it's a sign of a serious and healthy relationship,” Rarity said. Beside her, Dash nodded. “Are you thinking of moving things a bit further?”

“I think so,” Twilight admitted. She fiddled with her hooves as she spoke, and then took another sip from her glass. “He's just so smart and kind, and he's interested in what I do... He makes me feel so special.”

And there was that pang again. The uncomplicated happiness in Twilight's voice was beautiful for Rarity to hear, but painful as well. It should have been her finding love first, her finding a prince, her living out the fairytale ending. Instead, of all ponies, it was Twilight who found a special somepony. She grimaced, and downed the rest of her wine to hide it.

“That's awesome,” Dash said. She had a small smile on her face, and her eyes were watery in the dim light from the fireplace.

“He sounds like a winner, dear, even if he does go by that odd name.” Seriously, Time Turner? Rarity shook her head absently. “But, enough stalling! Give us details!”

“Uh...” Twilight fidgeted. “Details of what?”

Dash snorted. “C'mon, of him! What's he like?”

“Oh, well, he has a brown coat, and a darker mane, but I think you already knew—”

“No, darling,” Rarity interrupted. “The juicy details.” She and Dash leaned in closer.

“Oh. Oh!” Twilight's blush was back. She tried to take another drink, only to discover her glass was empty. She refilled it hastily and took a healthy swig. “Well, um, he's very gentle, you know? He likes kissing. His ears are sensitive, so its fun to nibble on them until he starts laughing and pushes me off.”

Rarity grinned. This was getting interesting. She finished off her glass and poured herself another before leaning in more. All three of their muzzles were just inches away. “Go on.”

“More?” Twilight's eyes grew wider, and she took a deep breath. “Okay, uh, there's this place on his neck where, if you bite him, he just stops moving until you let go. Sometimes he has to wear a scarf when we're done.”

“Whoa, nice.” Dash nudged Twilight's side with a wing. “You go, girl! What else?”

Twilight tittered, growing more comfortable as she warmed to the topic at hoof. “Well, he really likes it when I...” She glanced around the room, as if searching for eavesdroppers, and then leaned forward to whisper. “When I kiss him. You know, down... down there.”

Rarity gasped in faux shock and hid her mouth behind a hoof, while beside her Dash burst into laughter and pounded her hoof on the floor.

Twilight shrank back from their reactions. “That's...that's not wrong, is it?”

“Oh, not at all, darling,” Rarity said. She gave Twilight a reassuring smile. “It's a perfectly normal act of love. I think Dash and I were just surprised – happily! – to hear you have such a fulfilling sex life. Why, it's hard to imagine...”

Twilight crouched between her lover's legs, slowly running the edge of her hoof up and down the inside of his thigh. Her coat glistened with a light sheen of sweat. He panted beneath her, already exhausted from their previous exertions, and his cock slowly grew harder under the gentle encouragement of her lips and tongue. When he was finally ready, she ran her tongue up the length of his shaft and wrapped her lips around—

Rarity snapped back to the present, blinking. That had actually been very easy to imagine. She coughed into her hoof to disguise the momentary lapse.

“So, is it true what they say about earth ponies?” Dash asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, dear,” Rarity said. “They're very well endowed?”

There was a long silence. Twilight blinked at her.

“They have big cocks!” Dash blurted.

“Dash!” Rarity scowled at her. “There's no need to be vulgar.”

“What? That's what they're called! Jeez.” Dash rolled her eyes.

“Ahem!” Twilight was blushing again, but plowed ahead gamely. “I'm afraid I couldn't answer. My sample size is too limited, and anyway it would just be anecdotal. A proper scientific study would require hundreds of measurements and take into account other factors like body size and age.”

“Huh.” Dash got a far-off look in her eyes. “When you say 'hundreds of measurements,' what exactly—”

“Ahem!” Rarity jabbed the pegasus with her hoof. “About how big are we talking here, Twilight?”

“Hm.” Twilight's eyes took on a similarly far-off look, as though she were trying to recall something. Finally, she held her hooves out in front of her, with a wide gap between them. “About this big?”

There was another long silence. Dash and Rarity stared at the space and all it implied.

It implied a lot.

“Whoa,” Dash said. Her voice was nearly a whisper.

“Are you... are you sure about that, darling?” Rarity's imagination threatened to run away with her again.

Twilight tilted her head, moved her hooves a bit, then settled them back where they had started. “Yup, positive. I can check tomorrow if you want.”

“No, that won't be necessary.” Rarity let out a quiet breath and tossed her mane to the other side of her neck. It was starting to get a bit warm in the library. Or perhaps the wine was getting to her. She took another sip to make sure. “Anyway, Rainbow Dash, I have a question for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Dash's wings flared out, and she gave Rarity a wide grin. “Gimme your best shot.”

“Is it true pegasi mate on the wing?”

“I've heard that!” Twilight said. She took a long drink, giggled at something, and then leaned forward with an eager expression on her face. Her wings fluttered at her side.

“Oh, that old thing.” Dash sighed and looked, if anything, disappointed. “Every pegasus tries it at least once, but it's not as great as it sounds.”

“What's that?” Rarity asked. “It sounds exhilarating!” Twilight nodded her enthusiastic agreement.

“Yeah, it sounds fun, but think about it. First off, you're in public, and despite what you may have heard about pegasi, we don't just have sex anywhere.”

“Really? You've never done it on a cloud?” Twilight asked.

“Well... uh, anyway. Second, you have to start pretty high, right? At least ten thousand feet, and it's cold up there. Now, it's not so much a problem for mares, but imagine what that's like for a stallion.”

Rarity did think about it. She might have thought about it for a while longer, but Dash was waiting for an answer. “Yes, that is a bit nippy I suppose. What else?”

“Okay, assuming your stallion can even get it up, you can't fly while you're doing it. You just fall. Do you know how long it takes to fall ten thousand feet?”

“About eighty seconds,” Twilight said almost immediately.

“Er, yeah.” Dash blinked at her, then continued. “Now, that's not much time, right? Unless I'm really wound up, there's no way I'm going to get off before we hit the ground. Oh, and by the way, you're falling, so while you're having sex you keep worrying that you're going to get stuck together and die, which doesn't really help the mood.

“And if that wasn't enough,” she continued, “chances are he's so worried about splattering that he can't get off either, so at around five hundred feet you break apart, and now you're both flying just above the ground, dangling in the breeze, for all the world to see. Then you have to fly back up and try again!”

Wow. That was a lot to process. And imagine. Rarity took another drink from her glass while she did both. It was almost empty, and she debated filling it again. They had all long since passed the state of merely being buzzed into the pleasant stage of drunkeness where thoughts and feelings flowed freely, but intelligent discourse was not yet drowned.

“That was a very detailed account, Dash,” Twilight said. She had a sly grin on her face. “How many tries did it take, exactly?”

Dash actually blushed. “Oh, um... four, I think? We almost gave up, but he kept insisting. And hey, he was right! We both agreed it was too much trouble to try again, though.”

“Hah!” Rarity shook her head in amusement. “I'd have liked to have seen that!”

“Heh, yeah.” Dash gave a sheepish little smile, then suddenly blinked. “Wait, what?”

Oops. They were staring at her. Rarity coughed into her hoof. “Er, just a figure of speech, dear. You know, a colloquialism.”

“Oh, right.” Dash gave a weak little chuckle. “Heh, for a moment there...” she trailed off and took another drink from her glass, finishing off the last of her wine.

“Anyway,” Dash continued. “My turn now. Either of you can answer, I guess. Is it true? About the horns?”

There was a moment of silence while Twilight and Rarity processed that. Their mouths opened simultaneously to answer.

“Yes, of course.” “No, not really.”

Rarity blinked at Twilight. Twilight blinked back. Dash glanced between them in confusion.

“Really, dear?” Rarity asked. “Nothing at all?”

Twilight peered up at her horn, crosseyed. “How could it? It’s not a sexual organ. It’s just like any other part of the body.”

“Yes, but it’s sensual.” Rarity frowned and tried looking up at her own horn. It was barely visible through her bangs. “It’s a very intimate part of us, even if it’s not, to use such a vulgar term, a sexual organ. I imagine it’s how pegasi feel about their wings.”

Twilight glanced at Dash, who shrugged. “Really? That’s... huh.” A pause. “Huh.”

Silence followed. Rather than try filling it, Rarity tossed back the last of her own glass. Such a wonderful vintage should have been sipped, savored slowly, but right at that moment she wanted something to do other than talk, and so the wine suffered.

It was still pretty good wine, though.

Twilight spoke first. “Well, I hate to be a spoilsport, girls, but I've got to get to bed. Can you two make it back to the Studio, or do you want to stay here?”

The Boutique, Rarity mentally corrected. It would always be her boutique. She was mulling over that point when Dash answered for them both.

“Eh, we're fine,” she said. “It's just a short walk.”

* * *

It was a short walk, but they made the most of it. Little bumps as they walked, perhaps accidental, perhaps not. Giggles as they recounted some of the juicier confessions. A long discourse on whether Twilight was telling the truth about her coltfriend.

“I think she must be exaggerating a bit,” Rarity said. She kept her voice low, though the streets were nearly deserted so late at night. Few ponies would have heard her, even if she yelled.

“What, Twilight? Naw. It's gotta be true.”

“Well, we don't know what she was measuring from.”

“You wanna go back and ask?”

Kind of, yes. Rarity chuckled. “Maybe some other time.”

In short order they reached the boutique and snuck upstairs as before. Rarity felt a pang of guilt as she realized Sweetie Belle might have expected them back for dinner, but the thought was rapidly lost as they reached the bedroom. She waited until Dash was nestled on the bed, then tentatively placed a hoof on the covers.

“C'mon,” Dash said. “Who cares what Sweetie thinks? It's just a bed.”

Right. Rarity hopped the rest of the way onto the bed and settled down a few inches away. Dash lifted her wing and draped it over Rarity's body like a blanket, practically inviting her to snuggle a bit closer.

“I didn't say it earlier, but that flight was simply amazing,” Rarity said. She kept her voice to a murmur, practically breathing in Dash's ear. “I was... well, we were all a bit worried that you weren't flying any more.”

There was no answer for some time. Dash's throat bobbed as she swallowed, and she turned her face away. “Yeah, that was something, wasn't it?”

“It was,” Rarity said softly. That old feeling, of treading on thin ice, had returned. “I haven't seen you that happy in some time. It made me happy just to watch.”

Silence again. Dash's ears began to wilt.

No! This was going so well! Rarity bit her lip, looking quickly around the dark room for anything that could salvage the mood. “Didn't it feel good?”

Dash sighed quietly and set her head on the blankets. “It felt really good, Rares. I haven't done more than glide from cloud to cloud since he died. But it also feels like I'm breaking a promise. Like I'm... like I'm trying to forget him.” She gave a little shiver. The haunted look Rarity had first seen in her, back in Fillydelphia, edged into her eyes.

Oh Celestia, what do I say? Rarity had no experience helping ponies through grief. She licked her lips, and lacking any better ideas, said the first thing that came to her mind.

“I think he would want you to be happy,” she whispered. Her mane, still straight and unstyled, draped over Dash's shoulder as she spoke into her ear. “You're allowed to be happy. I don't think he would want you to remember him only in sorrow.”

“No, he wouldn't.” Dash's voice came out as a sob. “He would tell me to move on, and be happy, and find somepony else, because he was a good pony. But I just can't, Rarity. I can't. He loved me, and I can't betray that.”

Loyalty. Such a cruel virtue. Generosity was easy, especially for a pony as wealthy and successful as Rarity. She could give and give and give, without ever feeling the pain that Dash was going through right now. It was easy; she was easy.

You put on such a good show. Ponies think you're being generous, but you're only giving away money, only giving away things. When have you ever given away something that mattered?

“Shh, shh...” She licked at Dash's mane, the way her parents did for her whenever she had cried in their arms. She had nothing of value to say, so she lied. “It's okay. It's all okay.”

Dash shook her head weakly. Her eyes closed, and tears began leaking from them as she shook. All the happiness Rarity had collected during the day spilled through her hooves like sand.

You hide your heart in a box and say it's for a prince. But you know the prince doesn't exist, and so you keep the box forever. And in that dark airless box your heart will grow impenetrable, unconquerable, invincible. It will never break. It will become like stone.

Oh Celestia, what do I do?

“Dash... Dash, listen to me.” Rarity paused to lick her lips. “Love is not a coin that you spend once and lose forever. We all love you. We all care for you. Be loyal to... be loyal to his wishes, not just his memory.”

If Rainbow Dash heard her, she gave no reply. Rarity wrapped her arms around the shivering mare and held her close.

Sleep was long in coming for them both.

Just Ghosts

“Hey, lady. Missed you.”

Rainbow Dash looked up from her book with a smile. It had been a boring book – it felt like hours passed while she turned its pages, never reading more than a few lines – and she couldn’t really remember what the title was anyway. Or what it was about. Or why she was reading in the first place.

Or where she was.

She put the book down on the blanket. There were words on the cover, but they didn’t make any sense. She thought nothing of it. “Hey, lover. Missed you too.”

Soarin lounged on the bed beside her, his mane as ruffled as always, still wearing the open, wondering expression he seemed born with. As if everything he saw filled him with a slight sense of surprise and happiness. Even in the dim light she could see the merriment in his eyes.

“I know.” He leaned over and snuffled in her mane, provoking a quiet giggle from her. “And I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“As long as you’re back, that’s all that matters,” Dash said. She nudged his head and nipped at his shoulder when he was slow to retreat. The blankets beneath them were familiar but somehow wrong; instead of her Wonder Bolts-themed comforter, this was done in subtle shades of blue, with musical notes stitched in dark thread every few inches. She pawed at them curiously before his tongue in her ear stole her attention.

“Are you going to die again, Soarin?” Twilight Sparkle asked. She lay on her belly in another bed just a few feet away, a bluish affair with yellow stars and silver moons. She wasn’t alone – that brown earth pony from the festival was mating with her.

“Twilight, stop that,” Dash said. It was lewd of her to have sex in front of other ponies.

“This is my bed, I’ll do whatever I want,” Twilight replied.

“Oh.” That made sense. She wouldn’t want ponies telling her not to have sex in her own bed, after all. “Sorry. Nevermind.”

“You can only die once, Twilight,” Soarin said. He shifted his weight, leaving a dark smear of ash on the light blankets beneath them. He didn’t seem bothered by Twilight’s exertions with her partner.

Dash wasn’t sure what to say after that. Soarin went back to nuzzling through her mane, which was wonderful, but didn’t provoke the desire she usually felt for him. Twilight watched them both with a calm, measured expression that seemed out of place on a mare in her position.

“I don’t think this is real,” Rarity said. Dash turned to look at her in surprise—

* * *

Rainbow Dash groaned and rolled onto her side. The dream slowly slipped away, replaced by the hazy darkness of the boutique. Her confused mind grappled with the phantom of Soarin that had so recently nestled against her side, now replaced by a warm body that smelled like a mare and felt infinitely softer than he ever had.

He’s not here. He died months ago. You’re dreaming again.

The realization was a cold shock, as fresh and painful for a moment as that first stab of grief she had felt in that hospital bed. It was gone in an instant, replaced by the tired numbness that always seemed to dwell in her soul. A scar half-healed, still seeping blood. Her twitches disturbed the soft white form beside her, and a pair of brilliant cyan eyes opened in the darkness. She felt a warm, wet nose press against her cheek.

He’s dead. It’s just a dream, it’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real, it’s not real it’s not—

* * *

“More ponies here than I expected,” the sandy pegasus beside her said in a low voice.

Rainbow Dash nodded jerkily. Her legs shook, though with any luck none of the other recruits – or, Celestia help her, the cadre – could see. Her tail was out of control, twitching like a thousand flies were biting her flanks. Only her wings still felt normal, straining against her side, ready to leap out and fly.

“Y-yeah. Lotta ponies. Lotta, lotta ponies,” she whispered. Inside, she cursed herself. Lotta ponies? Come on, what’s wrong with me?

“Is this your first time trying out?” the stallion asked. He broke form long enough to glance at her. A few rows away, one of the cadre looked up sharply. Silence reigned until she went back to her inspection.

“Yeah, just turned old enough a few weeks ago. You?” Her voice was so quiet he had to lean closer to hear.

“Third.”

She risked a look. He was smiling faintly, as though his two previous failures did not bother him much. In addition to the sandy coat, his mane and tail were a streaky bluish-gray. A stylized candle flame, blue at its base and red at its tip, graced his flank. His rather athletic flank, she noted.

“I thought we only got two chances?” she asked.

“Two, if you don’t show any improvement,” he said. She leaned a hair closer to hear him. “If they think you have potential, you can keep coming back. They say Spitfire tried out five times.”

Spitfire?! No way. She glanced up at the elevated platform in front of the formation, where a brilliant yellow mare with a fiery mane was engaged in her own quiet conversation with a large stallion. The two appeared to be smiling as they inspected the hopeful crowd.

“Yeah, well...” Her voice caught, and she swallowed a few times. “I’m only gonna need one. Name’s Rainbow Dash, by the way.”

“Cloud Fire.”

* * *

“Okay, circle up everypony. And relax, this isn’t a formation.”

Soarin stood on the edge of a bank of clouds. A few feet behind him, the white surface dropped off into a void ten thousand feet deep. Far below, a faint patchwork of green and brown fields stretched off into the distance. Dark, massive shadows passed silently across the earth, cast by other clouds drifting through the sky.

Rainbow Dash sidled closer to the edge and peeked over. It was surprisingly high for a training venue – most Wonder Bolts performances occurred within a thousand or so feet of the ground. Any higher and the audience had trouble seeing what they were doing. The wind had a cold bite at this altitude, and even the sturdiest cloud structures tended to fall apart within days of their construction. Nothing permanent existed this high up.

“Which test is this?” she whispered to Cloud Fire. She had barely left his side over the past three days of orientation, and was thrilled when they were both assigned to the same training flight.

Soarin beat Cloud Fire to the punch. “This is your speed test. It measures, as you can probably guess from the name, your speed.” He pointed a hoof off into the distance. The ten ponies in Dash’s flight turned as one to follow it. “You see that cloud with the flag out there? That is the halfway point. It is exactly 1.5 miles away. You will fly to it and back as fast as possible.”

“Is there a maximum time?” a dark brown mare asked. She looked slightly older than the rest of the crowd, and bulkier, with strongly muscled shoulders and chest.

“There is not,” Soarin said. “But remember, there are only a certain number of slots available on the team. We can only accept the top performers from each class. Typically, that means one pony from each flight.”

The ten recruits absorbed that in silence. Eyes flicked around, measuring their neighbors. The friendly group suddenly felt far less friendly to Dash.

“Don’t worry,” Cloud whispered. “They like speed, but it’s not the only thing they care about.”

She could help the chuckle that escaped. “Yeah, I’m not worried.”

“Any questions? No?” Soarin looked around the group. “Okay then, Zephyr, you’re up first.”

The dark brown mare started when her name was called, but she trotted to the edge of the cloud without any hesitation. Her wings, slender like a falcon’s, stretched in the air and settled back to her sides. She gave Soarin another glance while he fiddled with his stopwatch, and at his signal she leapt off the cloud and vanished beneath them.

The rest of the recruits crowded the edge of the platform. Zephyr was nothing but a tiny dot hundreds of feet below them and falling further away with each second. Just when she was almost lost in the distance, her wings snapped out, and she banked toward the distant marker at a respectable speed.

“Are we allowed to dive?” one of the other ponies – Chinook, Dash thought – asked.

“You can do whatever you want, as long as you fly to that flag and back,” Soarin said. “Remember, it takes more energy to climb than you gain from falling.”

True, but falling gives you the speed instantly. She’s got the whole flight to make up the altitude. Dash leaned over the edge, trying to follow Zephyr’s path as she zoomed across the empty sky. She seemed to be doing well, her long wings beating occasionally to maintain her speed as she climbed toward the flag. She banked into a wide turn that just barely looped around the distant cloud, and began another dive to regain her speed.

“45 second split, not bad,” Soarin said. He made a tiny note on his clipboard.

Not bad at all. Not great, maybe, but still respectable. Dash leaned against Cloud again. “That’s what, 90 seconds for three miles, if she keeps up her pace?”

“Less than that,” Cloud whispered back. “Remember, you don’t need to stop on the way back.”

Oh. Duh. Dash would have slapped herself if the other ponies weren’t looking. Sure enough, a few seconds later Zephyr rocketed past their cloud, her wings flapping frantically for speed the entire distance. It took her nearly another minute to decelerate and loop back to the group.

“71 seconds!” Soarin called as Zephyr floated back to them. Her chest heaved like a bellow, and her wingtips dragged on the cloud surface as she sat. A few of the other mares trotted over to give her hugs and compliments. Dash stayed where she was.

The other pegasi flew in turn, most of them flying the course in under two minutes. The stallions were slower, as expected, but none of them seemed bothered by that fact. Mares were lighter and built for speed.

“Okay, last one before we break. Rainbow Dash.” Soarin gave her a grin. “Been a couple years, kid. Still got it?”

She didn’t answer, instead stepping up to the edge of the cloud. Her wings, tiny compared with the other pegasi, flapped on their own accord, stirring up white wisps that vanished in the thin dry air. An uncontrollable grin stretched across her face.

Soarin paused a moment, as if expecting an answer, then shrugged. “Alright. I’ll start the time when you—”

The rest of his words were lost as she blasted away. Several feet of the cloud disintegrated from the force of her backwash, dumping two nearby pegasi into the air before they could recover with indignant squawks. She barely heard them.

Her wings beat so hard they blurred into nothingness. The air ripped apart around her pinions as their tips broke the speed of sound. Her eyelids threatened to tear off before she could crush them shut. Goggles. Should’ve brought goggles.

She was already halfway to the flag and started a wide banking turn. Stopping would cost too much time, so instead she cut a loop around the flag and angled back toward the starting line. Behind her, the cloud holding the flag spun wildly and broke apart, and the flag itself tumbled into the air and began its long fall to the earth.

So far so good. Her grin, forced into a strained rictus by the wind, grew a hair wider.

Time to really fly.

She leaned forward, her wings somehow beating faster and faster. Her hooves stretched out in front of her face to catch the air and split it apart. A mist-like cone of condensation built around her, and for a brief moment the entire world was lost in white.

And then she was through. A flash of light, of all the colors of the rainbow, filled her vision, and the sky was lost in streaks that raced past her. She almost missed the finish line, it came so fast.

Rainbow Dash finished the course in 26 seconds. It took her four miles to slow to a stop.

* * *

Dash rolled onto her side, her wings lashing out carelessly in the dark. Something beside her on the bed moved, and she felt a pair of legs wrap around her shoulders and pull her tight against a soft, warm body.

“Shh, shh...” it whispered in Rarity’s voice. Something tugged on her mane.

Dash kicked the blankets away and struggled briefly before coming to a fitful stop. Faint silver rays streaming through the window painted the room with shadows and empty shapes. The notes stitched on the sheets beneath her sparkled in the dim light.

“I set a record, Rares.” Her throat was parched, and the voice that emerged from it was scratchier than normal. A vicious stabbing pain dug into her chest and wing joints. Been too long since I flew. Been so long.

She might have started to cry, then. It was hard to say what was real at that point. The legs wrapped around her seemed to tighten for a moment—

* * *

Rainbow Dash collapsed onto the cot with a groan. They had been awake for nearly forty hours practicing first aid and navigation, two skills that hopefully would never come up in a career as a Wonder Bolt. Her wings were still filthy with dirt and sap and pine needles and blood. A tiny sob escaped as she considered them – Wonder Bolt recruits were required to preen before sleeping, but she was just so damn tired.

Two cots over, Cloud Fire was already dead to the world. He’d given his wings a cursory brushing that removed most of the day’s debris, but Dash could see little bits of bark and cotton from their bandages still woven in with the feathers. She sighed, floated over to him, and gave him a nudge with her muzzle.

“Ugh... go way.” He rolled onto his side to escape her.

“C’mon, Cloudy.” She pushed her head under his shoulder and tried to push him into an upright position. “Gotta clean up, then we can sleep.”

“We’ll just get dirty again tomorrow.”

She paused for a moment. It’s true. Land navigation again. They wouldn’t even need to fly tomorrow, just walk around all day through the forests in search of waypoints.

“Yeah, but... rules?”

“Fucking rules.” He yawned, but straightened up with a quiet, heartfelt grunt. “I bet you’re just after my body, anyway.”

That earned him a rough jab with her hoof. “Maybe after training, hotshot.” She gave him a moment to grumble, then leaned down and began carefully preening his left wing. Most of the bigger pieces of debris were already gone, but she spent long minutes on each row of feathers, teasing the dirt and needles and seeds and grass away with her lips. After a few seconds of effort, she felt him start to work on her wing.

Nearly an hour later, she was splayed out on her back, cleaning the undersides of his pinion feathers while he did the same for her. Under other conditions it would have been a highly compromising position – now, after two months of training, it barely warranted a glance from the other recruits as they stumbled back to the tent. Only six members of the original flight remained.

“Hey, Cloudy?”

He didn’t look up from her wing. He was a little slower than her, and took his time with each feather, carefully brushing the vane and barb until it was completely clean and ordered with its neighbors. “Hm?”

“Why did you wash out before?”

“Ah.” He finished another of her feathers before continuing. “Teamwork. It doesn’t matter how well you do on the individual modules – if you don’t prove you can work with a team, they don’t want you.”

She was silent for a while. He loomed over her, his chest brushing lightly against hers as he moved from feather to feather. The few other stallions she had let this close were always lovers.

Fat chance of that here, of course. She stifled a yawn and kicked at the empty air with her hind legs. He was probably getting quite a show in this position, but either he was a true gentlepony or simply too tired to appreciate the view. The thought drew a chuckle and another yawn.

Teamwork huh? No problem, I’m a fricken Element of Harmony. Harmony is, like, another word for teamwork.

She fell asleep on his cot with a grin on her face.

* * *

“Hey.”

Rainbow Dash looked up from her cot with a start. She’d been alone in the tent for nearly twenty minutes, packing the last of her things. The two saddlebags resting on the cot held everything she had brought with her to training.

“Hey...” The word came out as a croak, and she cleared her throat before trying again. “Hey. Congrats.”

Cloud Fire sidled up beside her. He looked striking in his new Wonder Bolt uniform, even if it was slick and spare compared to higher-ranked ponies like Spitfire. Its colors complemented him.

“You okay?” He gave her a little nuzzle behind the ear, then leaned back to peer in her eyes. “You took off right after the posting.”

“Yeah, well...” She busied herself with the straps on her saddlebags for a moment. They were already tightly secured. “Just wanted some time by myself.”

He was silent while she pretended to check her bags. A few minutes later, the door opened and Zephyr stepped in. She stopped when she saw them, gave Dash a sympathetic smile, and just as quickly edged back out.

“It sucks, I know, believe me,” Cloud said. He sat on his haunches beside her. “It hurt, especially that first time. I was so sure I’d make it – I was destined to be a Wonder Bolt, right? How could I possibly wash out?”

The saddlebags swam in her vision for a moment. She blinked rapidly until her vision cleared, and pair of hot trails etched their way down her cheeks.

“I was so angry afterwards,” he continued. If he noticed her tears, he was wise enough to keep that observation to himself. “I didn’t even fly for almost a month. Why bother, right? It just felt so fucking pointless after all that pain. I mean, I worked my ass off, gave them my best, and it still wasn’t good enough.”

They were silent again for a while. She gave up pretending to fix her bags and simply sat with her head low, her ears limp against her cheeks. The tears began to flow freely.

“But when that next course started nine months later, I was the first pony in line.” He paused to look around the barracks. “I’ve spent almost a year of my life here, going through this course. Three tries and I finally passed. Trust me, Dash, it’s worth it.”

She snorted. “What makes you think I’m coming back?”

He laughed – he actually laughed. The sound was as loud as the crack of a whip in the empty barracks. “You? Dash, everyone knows you’re meant to be here. One washout isn’t going to change that. Just do whatever it is Soarin said, and you’ll pass next time.”

Whatever Soarin said. She tried not to think about that. He’d been so kind, so understanding to her. Just like all the other washouts, she assumed. It was part of his job to see them off gently, with a helpful word or two of encouragement. He had lots of practice.

“He said I needed to be a team player,” she said. “Help my flight mates, not try to beat them.”

He mantled his wings in a shrug. “You were a bit competitive.”

“So what am I supposed to do for nine months?”

“Do what I did.” He nuzzled her cheek again, and then stood to leave. “Stop being angry and start practicing.”

* * *

Rainbow Dash kicked her legs weakly, striking the pony asleep beside her. Whoever it was mumbled something in their sleep and edged away from her hooves. It sounded female, and Dash’s sleep-fogged mind finally connected Rarity’s name and image to the soft form sharing the darkness with her.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Wings hurt.”

The bed shifted beneath her as Rarity adjusted her weight. Hooves pushed back against hers, lightly forcing them into the sheets, and she felt the top of Rarity’s snout nestle beneath her chin. Warm breath tickled her neck.

She tried to struggle, but it was simply too much effort, and the body in her arms was far too precious to disturb. Her tense muscles slowly eased, her limbs and wings melting back into limp surrender. She let out a long breath, and sleep overwhelmed her again.

* * *

“Nervous?”

Rainbow Dash heard the voice but did not see its owner. Her eyes were closed in what passed for meditation for her: deep breath in, hold, release, hold. Wait. Count the beats of her heart, feel her feathers vibrate with each pulse of her blood. Wait for the nervous burn in her legs, for the tight panic to coil in her chest. Wait more, until her lungs began to scream. Wait even more, just to prove she could.

Finally, deep breath in. Hold. Release. Hold.

“Guess not,” the voice said. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know it was Cloud Fire.

“Why should I be?” she asked. “The flight went well. That could have been a real show.”

“It was pretty good.” He was standing right behind her, now. “But that’s not all they care about. They need a pony who will be a teammate first, and a brilliant flyer second.”

She rolled her shoulders. They were sore from her flight, and would ache terribly tomorrow, but none of that bothered her now. She was, for the first time in a long time, at peace.

“I did my best. If that’s not good enough, then I’ll try again in nine months.”

“Third time’s the charm, huh?” He chuckled.

She opened her eyes and turned. He looked the same as the last time she had seen him, nearly a year ago. Same blue uniform, now with a few more decorations.

“Well, hopefully two will be enough.” She leaned forward to give him a polite brush with her cheek. “I don’t suppose you saw the results?”

“Me?” He snorted. “I barely know what town we’re going to next, much less the selection results. Only Spitfire and the evaluation board know that.”

“Hm.” She leaned back and took another few slow breaths. Her wings were still tight, and she flexed them a few times. The mock show, the final test for Wonder Bolt recruits, hadn’t been the most strenuous of exercises, but it came after three months of rigorous, exhausting training. Even the most athletic of pegasi – like her – were bound to be a bit sore at this point.

“Hey, Cloudy?”

“Yeah?”

“You ever wonder what else you could’ve been? Aside from this?” She reached out with a wingtip to brush the Wonder Bolts insignia on his flank. The touch lingered a moment longer than it needed to.

He took his time before answering. Outside, in the auditorium, hundreds of ponies filled the vast space with murmurs and rustling as they waited for the final score posting.

“I honestly don’t know,” he finally said. “Be something else? Be normal? No. Not for me.”

“What’s wrong with normal?”

“It’s not wrong, it’s just...” He frowned. “It’s not for me, you know?”

They were silent again. The murmur from the auditorium grew louder as more ponies arrived. In only a few minutes, the cadre would arrive and reveal which lucky few recruits would soon be wearing the Wonder Bolts uniform.

“I think I do,” she said. The posting didn’t matter, she realized. If she didn’t pass today, then she would next year, or the year after that. Being a Wonder Bolt was her life’s goal, which meant she had her whole life to make it.

“C’mon, let’s go watch the posting.”

* * *

Cinders drifted on furnace winds.

Rainbow Dash opened her left eye. The right was clotted shut and screamed its pain. Hot dirt ground against her face as she struggled in a futile attempt to rise to her hooves. Her body failed, broken far beyond the weakling punishments it had endured in the foalish crashes of her youth, and she flailed helplessly on the ground.

She dreamed of pain, and when she woke, her dream came true.

* * *

She jerked awake with a gasp. For a brief, brief moment, the dark of night too closely resembled the horrid shadows of her dream, and panic clutched her heart. Her coat was soaked with cold sweat, and as the fear and confusion subsided, she began to shiver. A dull pain radiated from the old break in her left foreleg, like the ghost of an injury long past. She flexed her hoof back and forth until the ache began to subside.

Fucking dreams. Fucking, fucking dreams.

She felt movement by her side. Rarity was awake and looking up with her huge, endlessly deep eyes. They were like wells, and Dash could have gazed into them all night.

Ugh I’m getting sweat all over her gross—

“Dreams?” Rarity asked. Her voice was a whisper, barely audible in the darkness.

There was no point in answering. Dash laid her head on her crossed hooves and covered her face with a wing. A few seconds later, Rarity tugged it aside and set her head beside Dash’s. Her breath was warm and sweet, with a hint of the cider and wine from hours before.

“Do you... does this happen often, dear?”

What do you think? Dash turned her head onto its side, so she wouldn’t have to face those endless eyes. “No.”

“Hm.” Rarity didn’t sound convinced. “Have you tried talking about them?”

She snorted. "They’re dreams, Rarity. They don’t mean anything.”

“Yes, but—”

“They don’t mean anything,” Dash said again. “They’re just memories. Just ghosts.”

Rarity was silent. Eventually, Dash felt her turn again, and the warmth of her breath faded, replaced by the chill of night.

Fucking dreams.

In Dreams

Rarity had plenty of practice sharing a bed with other ponies.

As a younger mare, that thought would have embarrassed her – humiliated her, even. There was a certain kind of mare who carried on relations with so many different ponies, and that was not the kind of mare she imagined herself as. Sophisticated, yes. Liberated, certainly. But not loose. Not a floozy.

Not a whore.

But life was, if anything, unpredictable. If Rarity could do everything over again, her choices would be the same. Every stallion whose eye she caught, every seductive suggestion whispered over a glass of wine, every brushing of lips across soft skin and tongue tasting the sheen of sweat on their coat, she would do again. There was certainly nothing wrong with what she did. Or who she did.

Slut.

All her adventures had never prepared her for this, though. For watching a friend, someone she loved, wailing in their sleep. Rarity could only stare, frozen with incomprehension, as the pony beside her sobbed and thrashed beneath the covers and battered her with wings and hooves. Minutes passed before Rainbow Dash’s convulsions ceased, and her tiny body began to shiver.

She’s soaked with sweat. She must be freezing. Rarity edged closer and wrapped her arms around Dash’s shaking form, pulling her tight against her side. In time even the shivers ceased, and Dash’s frantic breathing slowed to a steady, peaceful rhythm. Rarity let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Rainbow Dash groaned quietly and cracked open her eyes. She stared, unfocused, into the dark corners of the room, and then carefully pushed her forelegs out in front of her. She winced at something, and twisted her left hoof around in a slow circle, back and forth, as though stretching before a race. Eventually, the tightness around her eyes faded, and she let out a quiet sigh.

Does it still hurt? The doctors said it was supposed to be fine. Rarity lifted her head carefully, trying to get a better look at Dash’s leg. Only a faint line of ruffled hair marred the coat above her ankle, all that was visible of a vicious scar where the bone had ripped through her skin. Just thinking about the terrible wound was enough to twist Rarity’s insides, and she drew back ever so slightly—

Rainbow Dash looked up at the movement, and their eyes met. For an untold amount of time, they stared at each other.

Rarity licked her lips. “Dreams?”

No answer. Eventually, Dash turned away and set her head on her crossed forelegs. She tried to hide beneath a wing, but Rarity would have none of it and gently tugged it away.

“Do you...” She paused. Did Dash even want to talk about this? She decided it didn’t matter. “Does this happen often, dear?”

“No.” The word lacked conviction.

Hm. She pressed her nose just behind Dash’s ear. “Have you tried talking about them?” she whispered.

Dash coughed quietly. “They’re dreams, Rares. They don’t mean anything.”

“But—”

“They don’t mean anything.” Dash cut her off. “They’re just memories. Just ghosts.”

The word “ghosts” carried far more weight than Dash could have meant. It hung in the air between them, smothering any attempts to continue the conversation.

Right, well then. Rarity cleared her throat and set her head down. Behind her, unseen, Dash shifted her weight. Her skin prickled as Dash’s sweat began to dry, and a chill replaced the comforting warmth of her presence.

Sharing a bed rarely felt so lonely. Rarity decided, in that moment, that something more had to be done.

* * *

When Rarity woke several hours later, she was alone beneath the blankets. The faint sound of running water from the attached bathroom betrayed Rainbow Dash’s location. The bed still bore a faint impression from the pegasus’s body, and Rarity could feel the last traces of warmth lingering there when she touched the spot with her hoof. Dash’s scent – sweat and rain, with a tiny, almost imperceptible tang of ozone, like the air after a thunderstorm – filled her nostrils. She took a deep breath and settled into the soft covers for a few more moments of rest.

The metallic squeak of a faucet turning pulled her back from the edge of sleep, and only silence issued from the bathroom for a few moments before another faucet turned, and the silence was replaced by the quiet rush of the shower. A faint melodic sound rose occasionally above the susurrus of the water, and Rarity realized Dash was singing. Her lips curved up in a smile.

She still does that? How cute.

A bit of dried sweat, all that remained of Dash’s nightmares, crinkled on her coat as she rolled over and considered herself. Her mane and tail were completely wild, not even bound with the barrettes or bands she usually wore at night between stylings. It flowed like a curtain around her, spilling across the blue sheets in an unruly wave. She gave it a quiet sigh.

She pondered, just for a moment, pulling Dash out of the shower and jumping in to take her place before all the warm water was exhausted. But that wouldn’t be very generous, and besides, another shower so soon after last night’s bath would just strip the oils from her coat. With winter around the corner, she couldn’t go around risking dry skin like that.

Her hair was another matter. She rolled out of the bed and stretched, flexing her body in a manner that would have raised eyebrows if Dash had seen her, or drawn scandalized looks in public. She grinned and held the stretch a moment longer than necessary.

It’s important to feel good about how you look.

A quick knock was the only warning she gave Dash before stepping into the bathroom – hopefully singing in the shower was all she was up to. The air inside was heavy with moisture but not steamy like she expected; apparently Dash didn’t go in for hot showers. She pondered that for a moment, until Dash’s head peeked around the shower curtain at her. Her mane was slicked back, its colors dark and subdued with water.

“Oh, hey, you’re up.” She vanished back behind the curtain. “Just gimme a minute to rinse and it’s all yours.”

“There’s no rush, dear. I had that nice long bath last night.” Rarity turned to the mirror to consider herself. A faint fog had started to build on the glass, softening her reflection. She wiped the moisture away with a towel.

The mare in the mirror was as beautiful as ever – stunningly beautiful, even with no makeup and a straight mane starting to go frizzy around the edges. She shook her head to loosen the long hairs, then gathered the entire mass into a single cord, much like Applejack wore. The resulting image looked years younger, almost childlike.

So innocent looking. What an illusionist you’ve become.

She frowned. Perhaps there was enough time to try styling her mane after all, something simple yet sophisticated like a—

“That’s nice,” Dash said. She had a towel wrapped around her head and another draped across her midriff to dry her wings. She stepped up to the mirror beside Rarity. “Are you going to wear it like that? It looks good.”

Was she joking? Rarity stared at Dash in the mirror before reconsidering her own reflection. “Like that? There is no ‘like that,’ darling. There’s no style there. It’s just my mane.”

“Yeah, well, I like it.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Well... I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” she said. “Besides, if I spend any time with you, it’s sure to get ruined again. Ha! This will save time!”

She dug through the drawers, found a few hair bands, and used them to secure her hair in place. Another band went around the end of her tail, and suddenly she looked like Applejack’s distant, more beautiful cousin. Perhaps a grape farmer? She spent a moment wondering what the most sophisticated farmers grew, and would probably have stayed there thinking for a while had not Dash pushed open the door.

“C’mon, let’s get some breakfast,” she said. “I bet Sweetie’s making waffles!”

* * *

Sweetie Belle was not, in fact, making waffles. To Dash’s great-yet-temporary disappointment, she had apparently taken Rarity’s remarks to heart and was at the stove stirring a large pot of steaming oatmeal. A variety of small bowls were already set out on the table, containing blueberries, strawberries, banana slices, brown sugar, cinnamon, honey, and even a few items Rarity couldn’t identify from a distance. She trotted closer and leaned over to sniff at them, and made a quiet happy sound at her discovery. Dried peaches, at this time of year!

“Hey sis, Dash.” Sweetie fiddled with the range, and the gas flame beneath the pot dimmed to an almost invisible glow. “This should be ready in a second. Go ahead and grab some drinks.”

“Sweetie, you must let me cook for you at least once.” Rarity filled a glass with water and took a sunlit seat at the table. “I feel like we’re imposing.”

“Yeah, and I can totally cook too!” Dash said. She plucked a hooffull of strawberries from their little bowl and tossed them back like popcorn.

Rarity and Sweetie stared at her in silence while she chewed. Rarity broke first.

“Yes, well, be that as it may, I’d be happy to make breakfast tomorrow,” she said, turning to Sweetie. “Pancakes? Hashbrowns?”

“Hmm, surprise me?”

“I can cook!” Dash said again.

“Yes dear, we heard you. Anyway, Sweetie, how about breakfast muffins? I could swing by Sugarcube Corner tonight and grab something.”

“Hey, I said I can cook!”

“Muffins would be nice. Banana nut, and maybe a few oat bran?”

“Certainly.” Rarity risked a glance at Dash, who had crossed her forelegs and was pouting. “Rainbow, would you like muffins tomorrow?”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine, muffins.” Her ears perked up abruptly. “Hey, do you think they still have those cinnamony muffins with the sugar on top?”

“The allspice crumb muffins?” Sweetie asked. She carefully levitated the steaming pot of oatmeal over to the table and ladled a scoopful into each of their bowls. After a subtle prompt from Rarity, she added another scoop to Dash’s bowl. “They should, or we can ask Pinkie to whip up a batch. I wouldn’t mind a few of those myself.”

“Sweet! Hey, thanks.” Any lingering dejection over her unappreciated cooking skills evaporated as Dash inhaled the steam rising from the oatmeal, then promptly dumped most of the contents from each of the condiment bowls into hers. By the time she was done, there were more assorted fruits and spices in her bowl than oatmeal.

“Anything else we can get you, dear?” Rarity inspected the strawberry bowl. Only two left. She sighed and passed it to Sweetie.

“Mmfm, I’m goodf,” Dash mumbled around a mouthful of oatmeal.

“Wonderful.” She turned to Sweetie Belle, who was watching Dash with a small, knowing smile on her face. “So, what are your plans for the day? Seeing anypony?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Sweetie popped the last strawberry in her mouth and chewed it down before continuing. “Want to come along?”

* * *

They heard the other crusaders long before they saw them.

The sun was barely above the trees when they left the Boutique, but already the day was warming nicely. The wind against their coats was a cool pressure rather than the chill touch of yesterday, as though summer were reluctant to give way to the slowly darkening days of autumn written on the trees. Bright yellow and red leaves kicked up in the breeze and swirled around them like a cloud.

There wouldn’t be many more days like this. Rarity took a deep breath, inhaling all the scents of the changing seasons, and then let it out slowly. Her coat tingled as it rubbed against the soft green chemise she had selected for the day’s outing. She would take it off when it grew warm later, she knew, and perhaps tie it around her neck as a kind of makeshift scarf. It was that kind of day.

Sweetie led Rarity and Dash toward the edge of town, which was now much further from the Boutique than the edge of town had been while Rarity still lived in Ponyville. New houses decked out in bright colors lined the roads as they passed, and the sounds of families rousing for a lazy autumn weekend teased at her ears. Faintly, she could hear fillies and colts squealing as they played some unseen game.

It was too perfect a day for ponies to miss, and the park at the town’s edge was already starting to fill when they arrived. The other crusaders had beaten Sweetie there, by the sound of it – Rarity heard Scootaloo shout something, followed by Apple Bloom’s wild laughter.

So much like her sister. She spared a glance at Sweetie, whose face lit up at the sounds before she dashed ahead to greet her friends. By the time Rarity and Dash caught up, the three were wrapped in a tight hug that seemed to ignore the world around them.

Rarity stared at them longer than she should have. For a moment, a fleeting moment, she could have imagined it was three different ponies, in a different autumn some years past, when the weight of the world on her shoulders was as light as the chemise she now wore, and her adult cares were nothing but a shadow on the horizon. She sighed and turned to see Dash looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Remind you of anypony?” Dash asked. The ghost of a smile teased at her lips.

“Maybe,” Rarity said. She kept her voice low, safe from the girls’ ears. “What happened to us?”

Dash just shrugged. Any further answer she might have offered was lost when the crusaders finally turned toward them.

“Hey!” Scootaloo shouted, apparently noticing them for the first time. “Are you here to play too?”

“Play?” Dash’s wings rose from her sides, and she pronounced the word like it was a long lost friend. “You know it! What’s the game?”

“Hoofball.” Scootaloo leaned over to grab a red rubber ball from Apple Bloom’s saddlebags and bounced it on the grass with her hoof. “Goals are those trees over there,” she pointed with a wing at a pair of trees about 20 feet apart at one end of the park, “and the space between the bench and the pavillion.” The bench and pavillion were both unused at this time of day, fortunately, or otherwise their game might be more interesting than expected.

“Oh, and no wings or magic,” Apple Bloom said. The smirk on her face grew as Dash spluttered.

“No flying? What fun is that?”

“It’s still fun, just means you have ‘ta run around a bit,” Apple Bloom said. “Not afraid of running, are ya?”

“Hey! If I can beat your sister in a race I can beat you, too!” Dash’s wings flared out to their fullest extent. She looked ready to attack the little red ball.

Some moderation was called for, Rarity decided. She stepped up to Dash’s side and carefully pushed her wing down. “If I remember correctly, darling, Twilight Sparkle beat you both. Something about the two of you being too competitive?”

“Yeah, well, I still beat Applejack.” She paused long enough to settle her wings back down. “Fine, no wings. Me and Scoots versus you and Sweetie?”

Apple Bloom nodded. “Sounds fair. I’ll try not to whup you too bad. Rarity, you wanna be the ref?”

“Actually, I’d like to play, if that’s alright.”

Silence. The other four ponies stared at her.

“You, uh...” Sweetie Belle stopped to think. “Are you sure, sis? This is a pretty physical game.”

She waved a hoof dismissively. “I realize that, dear. I played hoofball as a filly, too.”

“Yeah, it’s just that—”

“Scootaloo, since you were a filly I’ve faced down more than one dragon, a manticore, parasprites, a hydra, the avatar of primordial chaos, and of course Nightmare Moon. I think I can survive a game of hoofball with the girls.”

Whatever Scootaloo planned to say died on her tongue. Her mouth hung open for another moment before she finally closed it with an audible clack of her teeth.

Dash recovered first. “Okay. How do we want to do teams? It’s gonna be three-to-two either way.”

“Rarity can be on your team,” Sweetie Belle said. The others, even Scootaloo, nodded instantly at her suggestion.

Dash looked at Rarity with a raised eyebrow. Rarity gave her a smile in return and nodded.

“I think that sounds fair. Any special rules?”

“Not really,” Scootaloo said. “You can take three steps with the ball. No wings or horns, of course. And no kicking, tackling, or biting.” She aimed that last restriction squarely at Apple Bloom, who stuck out her tongue.

“And no choking,” Sweetie Belle said.

“Yeah, and no spitting. Seriously, Apple Bloom.”

“That was one game,” Apple Bloom said, rolling her eyes. “Sheesh, you sure you two don’t wanna have tea or somethin’ instead?”

Scootaloo’s wing snapped out, its trailing pinion flicking at Apple Bloom’s ear and tossing her mane askew. “Can it. You want the ball first?”

Apple Bloom’s response was to reach out with her hoof and roll the ball towards her. Just as the ball got moving, her hoof darted in front of it and kicked it high into the air, and she caught it expertly atop her head. “That’s fine. Good luck, girls!” She gave them a wide grin, then trotted off toward her half of the field with Sweetie Belle in tow.

A faint sense of unease was beginning to build in Rarity’s gut – that feeling she sometimes got when diving into a project that was just a little over her head. “She, uh, she seems to take this game very seriously.”

“Yeah, she checks hard, too. Be careful,” Scootaloo said. Her wings extended to pull both Dash and Rarity closer. “Okay, they’re both pretty good at this, but we’ve got the extra pony. I’ll cover Sweetie, Rarity, you cover Apple Bloom. Dash, you’re fastest on your hooves, just cover whoever’s open. Questions? No? Good, here they come!”

Rarity did, in fact, have several questions, the first and most important being why she had to cover the over-excited earth pony and not, say, her sweet little sister. She opened her mouth to ask, but by that point her teammates were already halfway down the field. For their part, Apple Bloom and Sweetie were leapfrogging forward, one holding the ball while the other ran into position. They seemed to be tossing the ball quite hard.

“C’mon, Rarity!” Dash shouted back at her. “Get moving!”

* * *

By the time their third game began, around an hour later, Rarity was forced to conclude that a second career as a professional hoofball player was a dream out of reach.

Covering Apple Bloom wasn’t too hard, which was to say it wasn’t very painful. Certainly, she had no luck whatsoever in keeping the ball from the earth pony, or blocking it when Apple Bloom went for a pass. Even when Apple Bloom had used her three steps, and was forced to plant her hooves, she still managed to reach around Rarity’s grasping legs and fling the ball exactly where she wanted, either toward Sweetie Belle or past the goal markers.

Being covered by Apple Bloom, on the other hoof, was a distressing experience.

This game hadn’t gotten out of control yet – Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle were only up by four points. They seemed to be playing only semi-seriously, laughing and trotting along, letting Rarity keep pace gasping alongside them.They had even attracted a small audience of foals and their families, who cheered whenever Scootaloo had the ball.

A chorus of shouts managed to distract Rarity from contemplating the stitch in her side, and she looked up to see Scootaloo and Dash charging down the field with the ball. Sweetie was just steps behind Dash, and already moving to intercept the ball if it came her way. Scootaloo saw that, paused, and then wound up a mighty throw that sent the ball arcing toward Rarity.

This is it! We can score! Rarity dismissed the ache in her side and raced toward the ball. The throw was high, and she planted her hooves, waiting for it to fall to her.

It never arrived. Before the ball got within two pony lengths of the ground, something slammed into Rarity’s side, knocking her clean off her hooves and sending her sliding across the wet grass. Her breath exploded from her chest in a violent rush, and for a moment the entire world was a confused jumble of sky and ground and colorful trees.

“Ugh...” She pushed herself up onto her forelegs, staying on her haunches for the time being. A few feet away Apple Bloom was already back up on her hooves, though she appeared a bit disoriented by the collision as well. The little red ball, completely missed by either pony, bounced a few times and finally rolled to a stop just a few feet short of the goal. Rarity scowled at it.

So close.

“You alright, sis?” Rarity turned to see Sweetie Belle trotting up to her side. She laid a hoof on Rarity’s shoulder, then scowled over at Apple Bloom. “What was that?” she demanded.

“Sorry!” Apple Bloom ducked her head, looking and sounding for a moment like the filly from Rarity’s memories. “I was goin’ for the ball. I didn’t know she stopped!”

Dash and Scootaloo chose that moment to arrive, landing neatly between the two fillies. Apparently the no-wings rule only applied during play.

“That was awesome!” Scootaloo said. “But, uh, are you two okay?”

“Fine.” Rarity finally wheezed. It was all she could do to whisper the word – her diaphragm wasn’t quite back under her control yet. She winced at the ache in her side and forced herself to take a few slow, deep breaths.

“You sure?” Dash draped a wing across her back. “That was a pretty rough hit. Took it like a champ, though!”

“Certain, dear, and thank you.” She pushed herself up onto all four hooves and turned to Apple Bloom. “Are you alright? You must’ve felt that as well.”

Apple Bloom waved a hoof. “Try playing with Applejack. That happens five times a game, at least.”

“Yeah, that sounds like her. She can be a little competitive sometimes,” Dash said. She had the good grace to at least blush when the rest of them stared at her.

“An accurate enough statement, I suppose.” Rarity shook her head, then turned her attention back to the little red ball that was the source of all her problems. Her horn glowed for a moment, and the ball floated back toward their group. “If you girls don’t mind, I think I’m going to take a bit of a breather.”

“Sure.” Scootaloo smacked the ball with a wingtip, bouncing it onto the ground where she trapped it with a hoof. “I saw Pipsy and Featherweight watching us, they’ll probably be happy to play.”

Even distracted as she was, Rarity couldn’t miss the brief widening of Sweetie Belle’s eyes at the colts’ names. Just as quickly her face was back to its usual happy smile. Rarity filed that little tidbit away for later consideration, and then departed for the sidelines after giving the four a quick friendly nuzzle.

The park had filled up nicely as the morning wore on. Young couples staked out spots in the scattered sunlight between the trees and were already opening picnic baskets and laying out blankets to cover the dewy grass. Fillies and colts of all ages ran unchecked through the open spaces, playing games of their own design that brought back memories of Rarity’s own foalhood and its endless, carefree days.

How simple things had been, back then. She sighed quietly and might have lost herself in reminiscing, if not for a pair of familiar mares chatting in the shade of a nearby tree. Rarity blinked in surprise and trotted over to them.

Fluttershy and Twilight Sparkle greeted her with a pair of warm smiles. A simple bread-and-cheese spread was laid out on the bare grass between them, and to judge by the collection of crumbs on Twilight’s muzzle they had been snacking for some time. Twilight never had been the neatest of eaters.

“Hello Rarity. Are you alright? That was a nasty fall you took,” Fluttershy said. She was stretched out on her side, probably the most comfortable position for her with that foal in her belly.

“Oh, you saw that?” Rarity tittered. “Just enjoying some time with my sister. She’s a bit more, ah, physical than I was at her age.”

“Mhm.” Twilight looked past her at the now-resumed hoofball game. “How is Dash today?”

“Ah...” Rarity turned back to the game. Dash was mixed up right in the middle of some scrum over the ball, jostling with the crusaders and several more colts and fillies whom they had apparently convinced to join. Her expression was wild with joy apparent even from a distance, and they could hear her shouting instructions to her new teammates. She seemed to be having fun.

Just ghosts.

Rarity blinked rapidly and shook her head to clear it of the memory. For a moment, the night had closed in around her as she held a sobbing Rainbow Dash in her arms.

“She’s fine,” Rarity said. “Really enjoying herself, I’d say.”

“That’s good. Would you like to join us? You look like you could use a break.”

“Oh, Twilight, you’re too kind.” Rarity circled around so she could sit with the mares and still keep an eye on the game, and then slowly lowered herself to the grass with a wince. Her hips and shoulders were beginning to ache from the unaccustomed exercise and the rough handling she’d experienced at Apple Bloom’s hooves, and she suspected her entire left side would be bruised beneath her coat come morning.

They passed the next hour or so in idle chatter as they watched the game. Twilight, it seemed, was preparing to start tutoring a student of her own, a young unicorn not much older than she herself had been when Celestia first began mentoring her. She had already constructed a lengthy syllabus and course of study for the young colt, but despite all her preparations, Rarity could hear a faint nervous quaver in her voice. Going from student to teacher was a big step for Twilight, Rarity realized, possibly the biggest she had taken since becoming a princess.

Fluttershy had less to say, but that was hardly unusual. She seemed content to munch on her bread and watch the ponies around them, occasionally offering a kind comment or two whenever the conversation needed one.

Eventually the bread was gone, and Fluttershy carefully rose to her hooves. Even carrying the extra weight, she somehow seemed more graceful than any other mare Rarity had ever known.

“Thank you for the lunch, girls, but I need to get back to my animals. And don’t worry, Twilight, I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Twilight ducked her head, but managed a smile. “I know, it’s just... it’s a big thing. I’ve never taught anypony. What if I do it wrong?”

“Then we’ll help you.” Fluttershy leaned down to give Twilight a quick nuzzle, followed by another for Rarity before departing.

They watched her go silently. Eventually Twilight sighed.

“She’s going to be a great mother.”

“And you’ll be a fine teacher, dear. Try not to worry about it too much, hm? You know how you get sometimes.”

“Heh, yeah.” Twilight pawed at the grass with a hoof. “Anyway, I should head back to the castle. Spike should have lunch ready soon.”

“Oh.” Rarity was about to stand and wish her farewell when a nagging thought popped into her mind. “Actually, do you have a moment?”

“Of course.” Twilight’s eyes flicked for a moment to the gaggle of ponies celebrating the end of the hoofball game. Rainbow Dash’s garish mane and tail were easily visible in the mass. “Want to talk about something?”

“Yes, it’s about Rainbow Dash, actually.” She lowered her voice and scooched a bit closer to Twilight, who leaned her head forward in return. “She’s not... well, when I said she was fine earlier, that wasn’t entirely true.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow, and her gaze darted back to Rainbow Dash for a moment, but she said nothing. The silence stretched out for an uncomfortable moment before Rarity continued.

“This might sound silly, but she’s been having some bad dreams. Nightmares, really. About the accident.”

Twilight nodded. “That’s not surprising, to be honest. It was a traumatic event.”

“Yes, but it’s... Twilight, it’s really hurting her. Last night she was practically crying in her sleep. I’d never seen anything like it.”

Twilight raised both eyebrows this time, and Rarity mentally cursed herself. She hadn’t meant to give away their sleeping arrangements just yet, but it was important for Twilight to understand how serious the problem was. Besides, with Sweetie Belle already in the know, it wouldn’t be long before word leaked out to their entire circle of friends.

“She doesn’t seem like she’s hurting.”

“Twilight, you didn’t see her in Fillydelphia. She looked terrible when I met her. Did you know she’s barely flown since the accident? The Wonder Bolts must only be keeping her on the team out of charity. When I see her at night...” Rarity trailed off with a light cough as her throat hitched, and she felt tears trying to fill her eyes. She blinked rapidly and tried to swallow.

Twilight bit her lip and glanced between Rarity, the distant form of Rainbow Dash, and her own hooves. “Applejack said something like that, the day after you two returned. Dash slept at the farm, and I guess they noticed something was wrong. I’d hoped they were just being too sensitive, but... well, maybe they weren’t.”

“I don’t think they were, dear.” Rarity let out a quiet breath. “So, can you help?”

“Uh...” Twilight leaned back. “What do you mean? Help how?”

“With her dreams. I was hoping you’d read something, or maybe knew a spell... something to make them stop.”

“Dream magic is complex, Rarity, and I’ve never attempted it. There are probably unicorns in Canterlot who could help, but I don’t think I can.”

“Can you at least check? I’d hate to see her suffer if there were some way we could help her here.”

“Well...” Twilight cast another glance in Dash’s direction. “Sure, I can check. No promises, though. Come by the castle later tonight.”

That was a weight off her shoulders. Rarity sagged in relief and leaned over to press her cheek against Twilight’s. “Thank you, darling. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course, Rarity. She’s my friend too.” She paused for a moment. “It looks like she’s about done, too. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Indeed, it seemed the game was finally breaking up. Rainbow Dash was walking toward them and chatting with Scootaloo, while Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle stayed behind with a group of colts. Rarity pushed herself onto her hooves and trotted to meet them.

“Hey Rares, you feeling better? Missed some good games,” Dash said. Her coat was dishevelled and smeared with streaks of green and brown, but the smile on her face was as genuine as Rarity had seen on her since their return to Ponyville.

“Much better, dear. I think I’ll be sore in the morning, though.” Now that she bothered to look, her own coat appeared even more filthy than Dash’s. One drawback of having such a bright coat, she reflected.

“Ha! Sore muscles are how you know you’re doing it right.” Dash’s wings snapped open and flapped a few times before settling back to her sides. “Hey, we should do this tomorrow!”

“Mm, that’s a lovely idea, dear.” Or not. Still, if it made Rainbow this happy... She winced in anticipation. “Anyway, I think I need a bath after this, and then some lunch. Shall we meet back at the Boutique?”

“Sure. C’mon Scoots, I’ll walk you home.” She reached out a wing to flick Scootaloo’s ear, and then she was off, followed a second later by the laughing filly.

So simple. Rarity stared after them and sighed. She nearly started walking back to the Boutique alone when she remembered Sweetie Belle, and she turned just in time to see her sister speaking with that young pinto colt, Pipsqueak. They had stepped apart from the rest of their friends, and were speaking with their heads just inches apart.

Well, hello. Rarity trotted toward them, a small smile on her face. They looked up when she came near.

“I see you survived the game, Sweetie,” she said. “And Pipsqueak, isn’t it? Did you have fun?”

“It’s always fun to play with friends, Miss Rarity,” he said. That delightful Trottingham accent hadn’t faded, she was happy to hear. “And I should add that it’s lovely to see you back in Ponyville. This town didn’t seem quite as beautiful with you gone.”

“Oh, stop.” She favored him with a sultry smile. “When did you become such a little charmer?”

“One of my special talents, as it happens.” He gave her a rakish wink that was so over the top even Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes at it. “Anyway, I’d best catch up with the lads. I’ll see you later, Sweetie.” He leaned forward and gave her a peck on the cheek and just as quickly was off, trotting after a gaggle of colts heading back toward town.

Rarity couldn’t help the grin that stretched across her face. For her part, Sweetie Belle coughed and suddenly found something very interesting in the grass to stare at.

“You know, suddenly I do feel better,” Rarity said. “Anything you’d like to tell me, Sweetie?”

“Ahem. No.” Sweetie tilted her head up and trotted past, heading back to the Boutique. Rarity fell into step beside her, and for a few long seconds they walked in silence.

It was too good an opportunity to let pass, though. “So, did mom and dad ever give you the talk?”

“Sis!”

* * *

Some hours later, after a light lunch and a quick shower that removed most of the grime from her coat, Rarity found herself walking through Ponyville’s streets again. The sky to the west was awash with gold and red as the falling sun fell behind bands of high clouds, and the warmth of the day slowly faded with the wind. Their short reprieve from the fall weather would be over soon, she judged.

The castle doors were still open when she arrived, and she let herself in without knocking and walked to the library. A few books were laid out on the tables and desks, evidence of the day’s visitors, but otherwise there was no pony in sight. She was about to go searching for the princess when the mare herself poked her head out from the kitchen.

“Hi Rarity, have a seat. You want some tea?” She vanished back into the kitchen, and Rarity heard the faint whistle of a boiling teapot.

“That would be delightful,” she called back and settled down on a cushion beside the least cluttered table in the room. A mess of loose leaf papers, filled with Twilight’s neat penmanship, competed for space with a stack of books on elementary spellcasting. Preparation for her new role as a tutor, Rarity guessed.

The papers glowed with a faint lavender light and suddenly arranged themselves into a neat stack, clearing enough space on the table for Twilight to set a pair of steaming teacups. Rarity murmured her thanks and took a careful sip. Jasmine, with a hint of oolong, and not bad at all. She blew on it and took a deeper drink.

“So,” Twilight said. She set her drink down on the table. “Dreams.”

Rarity nodded. “Any luck?”

“Yes and no. Dreams have been the subject of much study and conjecture, but there’s no real treatment for recurring nightmares. They’re a symptom of some underlying psychological injury. Simply stopping the nightmares would be like... Well, like putting ice on a broken limb. It might dull the pain, but the break itself still needs to be set in order to heal correctly.”

“So how do we fix her?” She paused. “Ugh, that didn’t sound right. She’s not broken. She’s just... hurting.”

“It takes time. It’s only been six months.”

Rarity sighed and took another sip from her tea. It tasted stronger now that it had cooled slightly, and she let it linger on her tongue before speaking. “That’s easy to say during the day, Twilight, when she seems fine. She puts on a brave face, of course. She’s not the kind of pony who can stand to look weak. But she’s not getting any better. If you could see her at night you’d agree.”

Twilight was silent for a moment. “Forgive me for saying this, Rarity, but are you sure you’re not letting your own emotions interfere with your judgement?”

Rarity stiffened, and for a horrified instant she feared that Twilight had somehow discovered her life in Fillydelphia, had somehow learned of the dozens of nameless stallions she rutted in desperate one-night stands. A flash of pain interrupted her thoughts, and she realized she was biting the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood. She coughed delicately and licked her lips, ignoring the coppery taste in her mouth.

“What do you mean, darling?” The words came out as smooth as ever. Not even Applejack could have heard the fear and deceit in them.

“I mean, you’ve been very close to Rainbow Dash lately,” Twilight said. “Very close.”

Is that all? Rarity could have laughed with relief. Instead she let a small, carefully measured smile show on her lips. “Rainbow Dash is a good friend, Twilight, just like you are. Nothing more.”

“Mhm.” Twilight gave her a long look, and then took another sip from her tea. She swirled the nearly empty cup around before continuing. “Of course. That said, there’s not much that can be done about nightmares. There are drugs or spells that will block dreaming, but that’s not healthy. Ponies need to dream, or various other mental problems will start to occur.”

“Worse, as in...”

“Insomnia, psychosis. Dementia.”

“Oh.” Rarity stared down at her cup. Those certainly sounded bad. “So, there’s nothing you can do?”

Twilight was silent for a while. Her eyes flicked briefly to her bookshelf, then back down to her cup.

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Twilight?”

“Well, it’s not a treatment, but... You’ve heard the saying, ‘A burden shared is a burden halved’?”

“I have,” Rarity said slowly. “What of it?”

“There are spells that can let you do that, literally in this case. It’s called Dreamwalking. If she trusts you enough to try it, and let you inside her dreams, you would actually share them, and hopefully be able to confront the root cause behind them.”

“And that would stop them?”

“Uh, maybe? It’s really more of a theory of mine than anything else.”

Rarity frowned. That was somewhat less than reassuring. “But the spell works?”

“Oh, yes!” Twilight practically gushed. “Dreamwalking has been around for centuries. It was one of Princess Luna’s first gifts to the unicorns. It mostly fell into disuse after she was banished, but the techniques still work.”

“I see... This is a safe technique, of course?”

“Pretty safe. Ultimately, it’s still just a dream. It might scare you, but that’s about it.”

She frowned again, but this time in thought. She doesn’t want to talk about her problems. This could help her. Still, the idea of sharing another pony’s dreams, or especially nightmares, seemed faintly unsettling to her.

It could help her.

“So, can you teach me this spell?”

Twilight snorted, and Rarity felt a brief flash of anger that was quickly squashed. “Not unless you have a few months. No offense, Rarity, but this isn’t like gem finding.”

“Right.” Rarity bit back the acidic reply she wanted to speak aloud. “What do we do, then?”

Twilight stood and trotted over to another desk piled high with reference books. She opened a drawer beneath it, and a blue gem the size of a large marble floated out. Rarity peered at it, suddenly curious, as Twilight brought it back to the table.

Ocean sapphire. A large one, too. It wasn’t a particularly rare gem, but this was a fine specimen – perfectly round and a deep, rich blue that shimmered like water when rotated in direct light. She gave it a little tap with her hoof and then looked back up at Twilight.

“I prepared it earlier today,” Twilight said. She looked a little nervous, or perhaps excited. “It has a single use of a simple Dreamwalking spell bound to it. Use it right before the two of you go to sleep, and it will let you share each other’s dreams.”

“She’ll...” Rarity drew back from the gem. “She’ll be able to see mine, too?”

“Yes, like I said, it’s a simple spell. Princess Luna could probably make a spell that only works one way, but that requires a degree of specialization I just don’t have.”

“I’m sure you did just fine, dear. How does it work?”

Twilight leaned over the table to nudge the gem with her hoof. “It’s more fragile than it looks. If you crack it, a few drops of a thaumaturgically neutral liquid solution...” She trailed off at Rarity’s bewildered look. “Uh, a few drops of something like water will come out. Dribble them on your foreheads before you go to sleep.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. Assuming it works, I mean.”

So reassuring. Rarity frowned. “What if it doesn’t?”

“Then I wasted one of Spike’s gems. There’s no chance of it harming either of you, if that’s your concern.”

“I would prefer not to be harmed, now that you mention it. Anything else I should be aware of?”

“Not really. It might feel a bit different than normal dreaming. Not as... well, not as dreamlike, I guess.”

Rarity leaned forward, putting her eye right up next to the gem. It looked no different from any of the other ocean sapphires she had worked with over the years. But if Twilight was to be believed... She shook her head and straightened back up.

“This is a tremendous gift, Twilight. How can I repay you?”

Twilight waved a hoof. “It’s for Dash. If you really feel like repaying somepony, get Spike a nice gem to replace it.”

Easy enough. She lifted the gem and tucked it into her mane for safekeeping.

Tonight was going to be different.

* * *

Their evening was nice, as Fluttershy would have said.

Nothing exciting or dramatic, just Rarity, her sister and Dash having a dinner of lentils garnished with pine nuts, followed by a few casual hours by the fire as night slowly descended outside. Sweetie read from one of her music theory books, occasionally scribbling out a few notes on a piece of scratch paper, or humming a melody under her breath when she thought nopony was listening too closely.

For the first time in several days, Rarity practiced her chosen trade, using a bit of borrowed paper to sketch some new designs that had been bouncing around in her head. Pegasus fashion had never really been her thing – she was more inclined to Canterlot and its high society, filled with unicorns who demanded an ensemble worth of their station.

But weren’t pegasi noble, in their own savage fashion? Free, independent, willful. Not all of them, of course – her mind drifted back to Fluttershy, and she stifled a laugh. But most of them were like the birds they sometimes resembled, fierce and untrammeled, and they deserved outfits that reflected their spirits.

She looked over at Rainbow Dash, who had watched her sketch in silence for most of the past hour. “Any thoughts, dear?”

Dash shook her head. “No, just neat to watch. Is that how you come up with all your designs?”

“Not always. Sometimes customers will have a very specific vision, and they simply want me to craft it for them. I try to avoid those.” She gave Dash a sharp look.

“Heh, yeah, uh, sorry about that. Again.”

“We can’t all be fashionistas, darling.”

Not much else was said until the fire burned low, and the embers that remained were not bright enough to read or draw by. Rarity gathered her loose papers into a sheaf and glanced over at her sister. Sweetie was already out like a light, her head resting on the open book like a pillow.

Dash chuckled. “She was running pretty hard out there,” she said in a near whisper.

“Didn’t we all? I know I’ll be sore in the morning.”

“Been there. So, should we just let her sleep?”

Rarity shook her head, and stepped over to nudge her sister’s shoulder. Sweetie looked up, bleary-eyed, then yawned and stood herself.

“Mm, sorry, more tired than I thought,” she said. “You two going to bed?”

“I certainly am. Dash?”

“I guess. It’s kinda late.”

“Well, try to keep it down. Some of us have to get up early tomorrow.” Sweetie flicked her tail at Rarity and trotted up the stairs before she could retaliate.

Rarity snorted. Seriously. Like we’re a pair of horny teenagers, or something. They weren’t, of course – just two close friends. She gave Dash a quick glance before following Sweetie up the stairs.

They settled together atop the covers. There was no need for blankets on such a mild night, and the warmth of their coats against each other’s sides was more than enough for now. Dash’s mane was an unruly mess, completely unstyled after whatever bath or shower she’d taken to clean up from the hoofball game. Rarity smiled and ruffled it with a hoof. Dash flicked her ears and turned her head to rub her cheek against Rarity’s foreleg.

“Look at us,” Dash mumbled. “Playing hoofball in Ponyville. I never thought I’d do that again.”

“This week has been like that, hasn’t it?” Rarity lowered her hoof, carefully settling it atop Dash’s. No big deal – just a convenient place to rest it. “I’m doing a lot I never expected.”

“Yeah.” Dash’s eyes flicked down to their hooves, then back to Rarity. “So, uh, how much longer do you think you’ll stay down here?”

Rarity started to answer, but a sudden thought pulled her up short. There was nothing pressing back in Fillydelphia, and the shop would continue to run just fine without her for weeks at a time, if necessary. It would be so easy to say she could stay here forever, or at least as long as she wanted.

But...

“I’m not sure, dear. I have a busy social life back in Fillydelphia. Ponyville is nice, of course, but we left it for a reason.”

A reason? You call a dozen one-night stands a reason?

Perhaps Rarity just imagined it, but Dash’s ears seemed to sink for a moment before darting back to attention. “Yeah, I gotta get back to the Bolts, too. We’re always training and stuff.”

Oh yes, you’re both missing so much right now. Just think, you could be fucking some nameless stallion, and she could be alone in her apartment. Such wonderful lives you’re so eager to get back to.

“So you'll be flying with them, again? I bet they’ll be happy to hear that.” Rarity kept her voice carefully neutral.

“Yeah, it’ll be great. Things are better, now.” Dash couldn’t meet her eyes as she spoke.

Ask her about the dreams. Ask her about the spell.

“I guess we don’t have much time left, then. It’s been nice, though, hasn’t it?” She realized she was rubbing her foreleg against Dash’s unconsciously, and stopped. Hopefully it was too dark to see her blush.

They were silent after that. Their eyes danced about awkwardly, sometimes gazing into the darkness, sometimes looking at each other until a flush of embarrassment sent them darting away. Their tails flicked together, tangling loosely atop the blankets.

Dash’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. “So, uh, goodnight?”

Rarity couldn’t help her smile. “Goodnight, darling.” And then, on an impulse, she leaned forward to place a light peck on the corner of Dash’s mouth. Her friend’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a chilling moment Rarity wondered if she’d made a mistake.

No. Dash’s mouth worked briefly, and suddenly she leaned forward to return the kiss, long and firm. The tip of her tongue touched Rarity’s lips, and then she was gone, leaving them both breathing heavily in the silence that followed.

Well. Rarity’s chest shook with her heartbeat, and she felt Dash vibrating against her side. The feathers in her wings trembled like leaves. She fumbled for something to say.

Dash beat her to it. “You’re a good friend, Rares. Thanks.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for, dear.”

“Yeah, there is.” She pressed her nose against Rarity’s cheek, then settled her chin down between her forelegs. Eventually, her eyes closed, her breathing slowed, and something that might have been peace found its way into Dash’s mind.

Rarity waited. She waited until the shadows cast by the moonlight shifted across the bed. She waited until she was certain Dash was asleep and would not wake.

And then she waited some more.

Finally, hours later, she dared to float the tiny blue gem out from where it had lain hidden in her mane. She squeezed it with her magic, tighter and tighter, and just when she was about to give up and put it away, she felt it shift. A tiny white line had appeared on its surface, and as she watched a drop of water began to seep out.

She held it over Dash’s forehead, letting the drops dribble into her coat. When it seemed like she had enough, she smeared the rest of the liquid on her own forehead, just beneath her horn. A faint scent, something like junipers, seemed to fill the air. She sniffed again, and it was gone.

Time to see if Twilight’s magic was as good as she thought. Rarity closed her eyes, and eventually sleep came.

And with it, dreams.

Interlude: The Funeral

Cloudsdale was not a convenient city for ponies without wings.

To be fair, it was never meant for unicorns or earth ponies, and the city engineers who laid out its streets and blocks hadn’t considered the possibility that their ground-bound kin might one day come for a visit. The city wasn’t even anchored to a single location – one day it might be floating near Canterlot, the next slowly drifting its way between Fillydelphia and Las Pegasus (which, oddly enough, was almost entirely an earth pony town). It had no set altitude, and it rose with the heat of the day and fell in the cool of night.

Pegasi did not think in two dimensions. Their neighbors were not just beside them, but below and above them as well. Roads in Cloudsdale, such as they were, ran vertically up towers of clouds, wrapped around banks of nimbostratus, or simply passed through the empty void between city blocks, nevermind the miles-deep chasm below. The very shape of the city was undefined, with houses and buildings and entire neighborhoods drifting around at the whim of the winds. It was not an efficient way to run a city, especially compared to the grid-like metropolises of the great earth pony cities, but then, no one had ever accused the pegasi of being concerned with efficiency. Cloudsdale was messy and organic and fluid and beautiful, just like the ponies who called it home, and that was good enough for all concerned.

Except, of course, for the rare wingless visitor. So rare that the sight of a dove-white unicorn with a fashionably curled amethyst mane trotting along atop the clouds was a shocking enough sight to literally stop traffic. Rarity was used to being the center of attention, and in fact went to great lengths to force herself into the spotlight, but even she found the constant stares a bit unnerving.

Cloudsdale was inconvenient for her to navigate but not impossible. The engineers and architects who kept city from drifting apart had at least considered the possibility that ponies who were unable to fly might live there, and made sure that real, solid (such as it was with clouds) roads and stairs connected the city’s major sections. They were mostly meant for foals too young to fly, or pregnant mares who found it easier to walk, but they worked just as well for Rarity and her friends.

It would have been easier, she supposed as she walked from the hotel to one of the city’s many shopping plazas, to just have Fluttershy run errands for them. But Fluttershy was still in the hospital, and it wouldn’t have been fair to ask her to leave Rainbow Dash’s side just to grab some snacks for the rest of them.

And so Rarity walked.

She would have preferred to have her friends with her, but those bonds were beginning to fray these past few days. Twilight Sparkle spent her time planning the funeral, or rather, attempting to plan it. Her offers to help organize the event were politely but consistently rebuffed by the Wonder Bolts, and instead she spent her time in the hotel room, reading through books on grief and bereavement and occasionally taking notes that found their way into a binder filled with colored tags. The others let her read – different ponies handled stress in different ways.

Applejack and Pinkie Pie spent most of their time at the hospital. They only returned at night, and curled up in the same bed for a few fitful hours of sleep before waking with the dawn and trudging back. There was nothing romantic or intimate there that Rarity could see. They just didn’t want to be alone.

Again, different ponies handled stress in different ways.

For Rarity, that meant shopping. She hadn’t brought any clothes with her in the rush to Ponyville, and all six of her friends needed something to wear for the funeral. It didn’t have to be much, but a funeral was a ceremony, and ceremonies bore more weight if their participants dressed the part. Nudity was fine for everyday life but not for this.

The plaza was nearly empty when Rarity finally arrived. She had learned over the past few days that Pegasi were not morning creatures – most shops didn’t open until just before lunch, though they might not close their doors until nearly midnight. And that assumed they even bothered opening at all, rather than just knock-off for the day. The few pegasi she encountered looked like they were still trying to wake up, yawning and bleary eyed with wind-tossed manes that probably hadn’t seen a comb in some time. It was hard to tell with pegasi.

The first shop she visited was, remarkably, already open, though no other customers were in sight when she walked through the doors. Her only company was a middle-aged stallion with a fashionable little goatee and rings in his ears tending to the cash register. As soon as she walked in, he looked up with a smile and trotted around the counter toward her.

“Good morning, miss. Can I help you find anything today?”

Finally, a pony whose first reaction wasn’t shock at seeing a unicorn. A smile intruded on her weary features, and she stepped up closer to him, weaving her way around a display of spring coats she vaguely recalled seeing advertised in one of her magazines. Unlike most pegasi, he had actually bothered to style his powder blue mane and tail. The color complemented the pale grey of his coat quite nicely, she noticed, and nicely highlighted the darker blue tie that was his only accessory.

“You may.” She paused and tilted her head at a selection of wide-brimmed hats hanging on the wall, incidentally showing off her flanks. “I’m looking for some formal saddles, preferably charcoal or another dark grey.”

His eyes lingered on her for a moment before returning to to the display. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like something more colorful? Strong primaries are the trend this spring, and I think a nice canary yellow would go with your mane.”

A nice canary would go well with her mane, but that wasn’t the point of her visit. She gave his suggestion a curt little nod, just enough to be polite. “I’m sure it would, but I’m afraid this is for serious gathering. Mister...?”

“Please, just Cirrus. I think I have a few things that might suit you. Would you like to try them in the dressing room?”

“That won’t be necessary, Cirrus. I’d just like to see the styles and colors.” She’d long since memorized each of her friends’ measurements and could have fitted them in the dark. Something as simple as a saddle barely even required knowing their sizes.

“Of course. One moment while I grab some samples.” He gave her a smile that was a bit warmer than necessary for a client-merchant relationship, and she found her eyes lingering on his form as it retreated into the stockroom. How long had it been since she’d slept with a pegasus stallion? Well over a year, she realized. What would he be like? Would he laugh if she nibbled on the tips of his wings? And clouds! What would it be like to—

Would you stop it? You’re in town for a funeral and you still can’t stop trying to bed random stallions. What happened to you?

Well, nothing had happened. Her head drew up and back, and a reserved expression replaced the open interest on her face. And anyway, they weren’t random stallions, they were prime stallions, the best stallions, and that was what she deserved.

She would have gone on trying to convince herself of this for some time longer, had not the merchant returned with a stack of saddles in a variety of styles, ranging from simple and clean to ornate and frilled. In the end she selected one of the cleaner designs, only ornamented by a sheer black fringe that would ever-so-slightly veil the wearer’s cutie mark. She wrote down the five sets of measurements and passed them across the counter.

“Normally it would take a week to get these ready, but I’ll rush this one through,” he said. “Should have them done by Friday. Six hundred bits for everything.”

She blinked at the offer. It wasn’t just low – it would barely cover the cost of the materials, much less his time. “That’s a very generous price. They’re for an, um...” She trailed off. Was funeral even the right word? Was that what pegasi called it?

“For the funeral,” he said. “I should’ve realized it as soon as you walked in. We don’t see unicorns much up here, and it’s been all over the news.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sorry about your friend. I hope she gets better.”

Rarity eyes threatened to water, and she found she couldn’t speak. Instead she nodded and made do with what she hoped was a polite cough. He took that as his cue to take the saddles back to the storeroom.

From the faint look of surprise on his face, he hadn’t expected her to still be in the store when he returned. She put on a demure smile that carried no hint of her previous distress.

“So, do you have any plans for tonight?”

* * *

Cirrus’s breath was hot and ragged behind her ear. He snuffled through her mane as if trying to drink her scent, and peppered the side of her neck with kisses and tiny little bites that set her cooing and gasping respectively.

Part of her wanted to feel ashamed. Back at the hotel, Applejack and Pinkie Pie were no doubt fitfully asleep, tossing and turning under the covers. Twilight Sparkle was probably still reading, trying to learn everything she could about pegasi traditions before literally falling asleep on her books. Fluttershy would be napping in her chair, waking every few hours to check on Rainbow Dash, to see if she needed anything, or if she were in any pain, or if had woken up and couldn’t stop crying. Again.

But not Rarity. Rarity was enjoying herself, enjoying her little vacation. Rainbow Dash could only taste ashes – Rarity could still taste Cirrus’s seed from their first round of play. Like most pegasi he was easy to arouse and easy to bring to a climax, but also like most pegasi he was quick to recharge. His cock had barely stopped pulsing in her mouth, and he was ready to go again. It was rather remarkable for a mare who spent most of her time with unicorns.

She found she liked it.

Her hips pushed back against his with each thrust, forcing him a bit deeper. He wasn’t very large as stallions went, but his enthusiasm more than made up for any deficiencies in that regard. He worked her with such speed and force that she would certainly be sore in the morning.

And she didn’t care. She bit down on the cloud pillow to hold in an unladylike moan that threatened to spill from her throat. Her groin was beginning to burn with that old pleasure, peaking with each thrust as his cock stretched her a bit wider than before. Any minute now...

Slut. Whore. What would they think if they saw you like this? Fucking a stallion you just met the night before a funeral?

It didn’t matter what they thought – they would never know about this. Besides, she’d gone through all the trouble of buying those nice saddles for the funeral. Surely she was entitled to spend some time on herself.

Cirrus’s hooves battered at her shoulders in a frankly distracting manner, the one thing she found annoying about their sex. After a few minutes of semi-coherent analysis, broken by the occasional moan as he nibbled on her ears, she realized he was trying to play with her wings. She laughed at the sudden mental image that provoked, and that was enough to tip her over the edge.

The orgasm washed over her a moment later, accompanied by a flood of warmth deep in her pelvis. She collapsed onto the cloud mattress with his body still atop hers – he weighed significantly less than she did, and she could’ve spent all night in that position, still penetrated, panting, dripping.

Of course you could. This is your life.

He nuzzled her ear and whispered, “Again?”

Yeah. Yeah, why not? Different ponies handled stress in different ways.

* * *

On the day of the funeral, the sky above Cloudsdale was nearly black, so thick were the clouds. A cruel mixture of rain and sleet pelted Rarity’s face as she stepped off the carriage onto the open platform reserved for the ceremony. Hundreds of pegasi managed to crowd onto it, pushing right up to the edge of the thousand-foot drop to the sodden plain below.

Her hooves sank into the cloudstuff with each step and left hoof-shaped puddles behind her. She couldn’t help but shiver as her coat slowly soaked through, and only the feeble protection offered by the black saddle on her back kept her from shaking with the cold. The pegasi around her, adapted to the chill of the high empty skies, gave her an occasional sympathetic glance. She smiled her appreciation at them and continued forward.

Up ahead, at the edge of the cloud bank, Twilight and Fluttershy stood close beside Rainbow Dash. The Wonder Bolt's coat appeared almost gray, her normally colorful mane lifeless and wan. A thick splint wrapped in gauze entombed her left foreleg, and she held it awkwardly against her chest. But worse than the physical wound was the look on her face – lost, like a foal torn from her parents and tossed into the wide, dark, unforgiving world.

Alone among her friends, Rainbow Dash wore no colors of mourning. Instead she wore her Wonder Bolts uniform, modified to accommodate her injuries. This wasn’t the jumpsuit they wore during performances – this was a full-up uniform, with piping and medals and a visored wheel cap that somehow managed not to clash with her mane.

Rarity leaned forward to press her cheek against Dash’s. She felt more than heard the mare sigh.

“Hey. Thanks... Thanks for coming, Rarity.”

“Of course dear,” Rarity whispered back. “Anything. We’re here for you.”

The ceremony itself bore little semblance to the funerals Rarity had attended in the past. For one thing, there was no coffin. Instead, a small dais had been erected near the front of the platform, adorned with black bunting and topped by a silver urn. She started at it in confusion for a full minute before Twilight finally noticed.

“That’s him,” she whispered, keeping her voice low enough that Dash couldn’t hear. “He was cremated this morning. Those are his ashes.”

Cremated. That was a word she barely heard once a year. In retrospect, it made sense – pegasi, whose lives revolved around flying, wouldn’t bury their dead in the ground.

“What, ah... What do they do with the ashes?” she whispered back.

“A friend or loved one will scatter them.” Twilight’s eyes slid over to Rainbow Dash for a moment. “Cloud Fire will be doing it.”

Because Rainbow Dash can’t, was the unspoken addendum. Indeed, Rainbow Dash barely seemed able to stand. She leaned on Fluttershy for support, her eyes locked on the urn like it was the only thing in her universe.

There was little pomp or circumstance to the service. At some predetermined time, Cloud Fire stepped out of the crowd toward the dais. He used his wings to hover near it, and grasped the urn in his forehooves. Rarity saw his mouth move as he addressed his lost friend, and then he twisted the lid off and slowly upended the vessel over the cloud’s edge.

The ashes were almost pure white, she was surprised to see. For some reason, she thought they would be black. A few steps away, Rainbow Dash moaned quietly as her lover drifted away on the winds.

* * *

“Well, that was...” Rarity trailed off. For once she was at a complete loss for words. “Very nice. Very heartfelt.”

They had congregated back at the hotel. Rainbow Dash wasn’t with them – Spitfire had bundled her up and vanished almost as soon as the ceremony was over. They’d barely even had a chance to say goodbye.

“D’ya think she’ll be alright?” Applejack asked. “She seems pretty hurt still.”

“It’s only been a week,” Twilight said from next to the beds. She had their suitcases lined up and was floating various belongings into them. “Everything I’ve read says the grieving process takes months. She needs time.”

“But she’ll get better, right?” Pinkie asked. She looked better than the first day Rarity had seen her, but her voice still lacked its usual pep.

Nopony answered. Eventually, Rarity cleared her throat and spoke.

“So she’s just going back to the team, and that’s that? I thought they’d give her more time.”

“I spoke with Spitfire about that,” Twilight said. “I said we’d make room for Dash in Ponyville. She seems to think Dash will get better faster if she goes back to her usual routine.”

Her usual routine? That didn’t seem too likely to Rarity, but she didn’t voice her thoughts. Judging by their expressions, the others were thinking it too.

“Did anypony see Soarin’s family there?” Applejack asked. “Ah thought they’d be up front.”

Fluttershy answered, the first time since arriving back at the hotel that she’d said a word. “There might have been some family in the crowd, but they wouldn’t have been near the front. Pegasus funerals are mostly for friends.”

“But...” Rarity tried to form a coherent question, but found she couldn’t. The concept of a friends-only funeral, with no family members, was simply too incredible. She stared at Fluttershy in incomprehension.

“Pegasi aren’t like unicorns or earth ponies,” Fluttershy continued. Her chin rested on her folded hooves, and she carefully avoided their gazes. “When a pegasus foal grows up, they leave the nest. They don’t... um... family bonds aren’t as strong.”

Impermanent. The word always seemed to tag along with pegasi. From their flighty character to their cloud houses, pegasi never seemed as stable as the other tribes. She thought suddenly of Fluttershy holed up in her home with all her animal friends.

“But ah’ve known Dash for years,” Applejack said. She looked as confused as Rarity felt. “She’s the closest friend ah’ve got. Heck, she’s the Element of Loyalty!”

“Oh yes, friends are the most important thing to pegasi. Families are... they’re just something you have.” Rarity had never seen a look of such sadness on Fluttershy’s face.

They departed Cloudsdale the next morning. It was six months before Rarity saw any of them again.

Reflection

It was dark in Sweetie Belle's old room. The faint light of a waning crescent moon coursed through the wide windows, providing feeble illumination for the ponies within.

Rarity lay on the bed beside Rainbow Dash. She slowly levitated the broken ocean sapphire over to her dresser and set it beside an old comb. A few drops of the magical liquid that had hidden inside the gem flowed down her forehead, between her eyes, and across her snout. The faint scent of junipers tickled her nose.

She glanced at Dash. Her forehead was still wet with the same fluid, and her nose wrinkled in her sleep.

Perhaps she doesn’t like junipers.

There was nothing left to do but wait and see if Twilight’s spell would work. Rarity’s eyes slowly grew heavier, the mattress beneath her grew softer, and eventually the dark room with musical notes painted on its ceiling went away.

Unseen by either of them, the odd liquid wetting their foreheads began to pulse with a faint silver light.

* * *

Rarity, like most unicorns, preferred to make love in bed.

She wasn’t aware of this fact, per se. That is, she wasn’t aware that the bedroom was the preferred location for sexual activity for the typical unicorn, though if she had ever given it a moment of thought, it would doubtlessly have occurred to her. Unicorns weren’t like pegasi, adventurous and daring and filled with a love for open spaces that led them to the clouds for their bouts of love-making. Yes, she might have occasionally fantasized – with the help of a sordid romance novel or two – about what it was like to kiss and bite and thrust against and be penetrated by a stallion beneath the blue sky, but for her it would always be a fantasy.

And earth ponies! So crude and base and, well, earthy. They might sneak away into the fields or the forests with their beloveds, to tease and caress each other, to lick the salt from their lovers’ skin, not caring for the birds that watched in the branches above. Indeed, she could imagine Applejack slipping away into the barn with her special somepony – but who? A stallion, of course. A rugged earth pony stallion, his hooves dusty with the day’s work, his chest muscled and taut beneath his coat. Her imagination painted the broad strokes of Applejack’s stallion, and it followed them into the barn, up the ladder, into the dark hay loft where they nestled together, tongues gently tasting each other’s mouths and other places.

But unicorns would never do such things. From the earliest days of history, unicorns had built cities and towers and homes. The clouds were beyond their reach and therefore useless. The fields and forests were the province of mud and filth and toil and lesser beings. Unicorns were defined by civilization, and it was there that they sought intimacy. Unicorns were lords and ladies. Lords and ladies had standards.

And Rarity was a lady. She fucked in bed.

The covers twisted beneath Rarity's grinding hooves. They were white, almost as white as her coat, and soft against her cheek. Curious, she nibbled them, the stallion whose weight crushed her momentarily forgotten.

Such a delicate taste. More like water than cotton. She would have given them some more attention, had not a particularly firm thrust from her current lover directed her thoughts back to the pressing matter of his cock. It was larger than she was used to, almost uncomfortably so, and it stretched her to the very edges of her tolerance, to the point where the delicious fullness started to feel maybe a little like pain, complemented by the heavy weight of his balls bouncing against her mound. Just a hint of pain, a premonition, and then he was pulling out and she ached for his return.

It was better to hurt than to be empty. He pushed again, and a quiet groan escaped her throat.

Shameless.

She didn’t care. Her delicate cries, half gasping, half moaning, filled the room with each thrust. The pain was irrelevant. She had her stallion – she wasn’t alone, and that was all that mattered.

But still, these covers were really something else. She couldn’t even guess at their thread count, they were so soft and fine. She rubbed her cheek against them some more, savoring the silky smoothness. They were as delicate as a dream.

Above her, the stallion – at least, she assumed it was a stallion; she couldn’t see him for some reason – thrust harder and harder, his breath ragged in her ear. He wouldn’t last much longer, she knew. Once stallions got to this point they would always lose control and just buck their hips until they came. She didn’t even need a warning anymore, not that she cared whether they spilled their seed inside her or not. The contraceptive spells she’d learned as a young mare were useful things.

Sure enough, he only lasted a few more moments. She bit her lip as he ground his hips into hers, driving his cock a few shades deeper into her marehood.

You mean your cunt. That’s what sluts have. Sluts and whores and—

Her body shook with a weak orgasm, barely worthy of the term. It didn’t matter, of course. That wasn’t the point. Her rear legs folded, and she collapsed onto the inexplicably soft sheets. The beautiful, wonderful sheets. A pang of guilt broke through the blissful post-coital fog as she felt a trickle of semen leaking out of her cunt onto the bed. The covers were soft and beautiful and wonderful and never hurt anypony, and here she was soiling them.

“They’re clouds, you know,” Rainbow Dash said. “That’s why they’re so soft.”

“Oh?” Rarity lifted her head and gave the sheets a closer look. Dash was right – the bed was a soft, cottony cloud spreading out in all directions. The ceiling overhead was the dark vault of the night sky, speckled with stars that shone with just enough light to give shape and form to the world around her.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Dash rolled around, her wings kicking up little bits of fluff. “So much better than those beds you ponies use down on the ground.”

“It is rather nice.” Rarity prodded the cloudstuff with a hoof. The stallion she had just rutted seemed to be gone. She looked around for him for a few seconds before letting her gaze settle back on Dash. “I thought only pegasi could rest on clouds, though?”

Dash shrugged. “Don’t look at me. This is your dream.”

Rarity frowned. She was about to open her mouth to rebut that claim when the cloud vanished, revealing a depthless void that stretched out infinitely beneath her. A hollow, weightless feeling filled her gut, a rush of air tugged at her mane, and instead of speaking, she began to scream.

Before the faintest sound could escape, she woke.

But not really.

* * *

“Remember, it’s just like practice. You’ve done this a hundred times.”

Spitfire didn’t look in her direction as she spoke. Her eyes, hidden beneath the solid blue goggles the Wonder Bolts wore with their flight uniforms, were fixed on the crowd thousands of feet below. It was a small crowd by their standards, only a few thousand ponies crowded onto the rolling green meadows outside the town of New Haven. Their bodies formed a pastel ocean that shifted and rose and fell as they cheered for the pegasi flying above them. The sound of their cheers, like the crash of the surf against the beach, took several seconds to reach the high cloud that was their perch as they prepared to join the show.

“Yeah. I got this,” Rarity said. She spent a moment adjusting the goggles covering her own eyes, to make sure her short mane wasn’t caught in the strap. “No sweat. Just like practice.”

“Twenty seconds,” Soarin said. He stood at the edge of the cloud, his wings already outspread and ready to convert the energy of his fall into velocity. “Fifteen seconds.”

“Just stay on my wing,” Spitfire said. Her voice was a low whisper, meant for Rarity alone. The other Bolts on the cloud didn’t look in their direction. “Ignore the crowd as best you can. Fair winds.”

“And open skies,” Rarity mouthed under her breath, echoing back the second half of the Wonder Bolts informal motto. She stiffened her wings to keep them from shaking and revealing the state of her nerves.

“Ten seconds.” Soarin’s front legs bent, and his upper body tilted over the edge of the cloud, ready to release him into the empty void. “Five.”

Rarity’s wings snapped out, and she stepped to the edge of the cloud with her four teammates. Soarin stood at the center, flanked to his left and right by Spitfire and Starlight. Rarity and Zephyr, the two novices participating in their first show, held the flanking positions. They each had an easy break-away, and no pegasi were trailing them or relying on them for guidance. If anything went wrong, they could simply roll out of formation and regroup at the staging area. Humiliating, to be sure, but safe.

“Dive!” Soarin shouted as he leapt forward. For a moment he hung level with the cloud, the power of his jump defying gravity’s relentless grasp for what seemed like an eternity to Rarity. His forelegs curled under his chest as his body rolled forward, and then he was plummeting like an arrow. Spitfire and Starlight followed a second behind, and before Rarity could consciously process the thought, her legs had tossed her off the cloud as well.

The world spread out before her. A half a mile below, the sprawling meadows began to grow larger.

Great, isn’t it? Rainbow Dash’s voice sounded in her mind. Every time it’s the same. I never get tired of it.

Soarin was a hundred feet below her and still accelerating hard toward the earth. Fifty feet closer, Spitfire was already beginning to maneuver into formation. Rarity fixed her eyes on that bright orange mane. It was like a flame, whipping in the wind. The only thing in the world; all the rest – the empty skies, the ground rushing toward them, the other ponies – none of them mattered. Only that mane mattered. It was her true north, her compass. Her life rested in following that spot of color.

During their training, prospective Wonder Bolts were taught a story about their predecessors. Decades ago, when the team was new and safety standards weren’t as honored, a team captain by the name of Cumulous developed many of the formations and techniques still in use years later. One of them, widely considered the most influential, was known as “follow-the-leader.”

It was simple. Rather than attempting to orient by the horizon or the ground, the normal methods pegasi used during flight, during follow-the-leader only the lead pegasus cared for those visual markers. His wingmates, following a few feet behind him in formation, oriented off of him. If he turned left, they turned left. If he dove, they dove. Their eyes were only on him.

Cumulous’s technique revolutionized aerobatics. Air shows became premier events, attended by thousands of ponies. Formation flights became precise, elite demonstrations of skill and daring, a thousand times more impressive than watching a single pegasus flying the same maneuvers. The awe Cumulous managed to inspire turned the Wonder Bolts into a household name.

And then, one day, Cumulous was a little too slow pulling out of a dive, and he slammed into a riverside bluff at about half the speed of sound. His entire flight followed him into the rocks. They probably never noticed their deaths.

The lesson, Wonder Bolts cadets were told, was to be careful when using follow-the-leader. You could get your entire team killed in the blink of an eye.

The orange mane drifted closer as Rarity moved into position behind Spitfire. The wind ripped at her ears, plastering them against the side of her head. Her tail whipped back and forth so hard it felt like it wanted to tear free and escape from her body.

Ahead, barely visible in the corner of her eye, Soarin’s wings began to extend. He was the only stallion in the formation, and as such tended to fall just a bit faster than the smaller, lighter mares following him. Rarity, like Spitfire, kept her wings plastered to her sides in a bid for extra speed. The ground was barely a thousand feet away.

The orange mane tilted and slid forward. Rarity let her wings relax and catch the air, bending her course to keep the formation perfect. They levelled out and their dive became a fast glide just above the treetops. The tip of Spitfire’s wing nearly brushed Rarity’s outstretched hoof.

Perfect.

Nah, a little sloppy, actually. Rainbow Dash’s voice whispered in her mind again. Was much better in practice. Probably just nerves.

Far ahead of them, the crowd had yet to notice the formation zooming across the ground. Their eyes were fixed on the sixth Wonder Bolt flying a series of easy loops and twists directly above them. Cloud Fire’s role at this point was simple – keep the crowd’s eyes on him. Keep them distracted.

He was good at his job. His large wings curled and caught the air, spinning him in place as his legs seemed to brace against an invisible wall and kick away. An instant later, the empty space he vacated exploded with a brilliant red firework and thunderous clap that hammered the ponies gathered below. Their cheers grew louder.

Soarin’s rear hooves tapped together, activating the spell a team unicorn had placed just before the show. There was a bright flash, followed by a stream of thick grey smoke that formed a dark contrail behind him. The others followed suit, creating five parallel lines that cut across the sky like spears.

Ahead, all eyes were on Cloud Fire as he spun in place. A thousand miniature fireworks exploded around him like stars in the night sky. The roar of the crowd grew.

Just when the sound peaked, Soarin’s formation sped by, no more than thirty feet above their heads. The air tore apart, and a constant rolling thunder washed over the crowd, drowning out even their thoughts. Soarin’s wings tilted, and as one the formation shot toward the heavens like a volley of arrows fired by an angry god.

Not a bad way to start a show.

* * *

Hours later, Rarity finally pulled her Wonder Bolts uniform off. Her coat was matted and dark with sweat, her wings ached, and she felt the start of a headache behind her ears.

And she couldn’t keep the huge grin off her face. Best day ever.

She splashed her face in the sink, letting the cold water wash away the rime of dry sweat that had built up around her eyes. Her goggles had channeled the sweat around her eyes, and the whipping winds dried it almost immediately, leaving a white salty ring on her blue coat. She brushed at the powdery crystals, then dunked her head back in the sink for another soak.

“Looked pretty good up there, hot shot.”

Rarity’s eyes darted up to the mirror above the sink. Behind her reflection, Cloud Fire leaned against the changing room wall. He was already out of his uniform, though his mane was still ruffled and undone.

She stretched before responding. In the mirror, his eyes traced their way along her tight frame, down her flanks, down her rainbow tail and the secret places beneath it. They lingered for a moment, then snapped back up to her face. A faint blush colored his features, just visible beneath his sandy coat.

Heh. Show ain’t quite over yet, huh? Rainbow Dash’s commentary slid through her mind like water, leaving no trace behind.

“Weren’t half bad yourself, Cloudy.” She stepped past him, her shoulders rolling like a cat stalking its prey. “So, what’s next?”

“Well, once everypony gets cleaned up, we usually meet for dinner.”

“Right. So... how long we got?”

“Oh, you could probably take an hour or so without raising any eyebrows.”

Rarity nodded. “An hour, huh? Not like training.”

“Oh, no,” he said. “No need to rush. Plenty of time.”

Her grin was back. “Well, I think I’ll go grab a shower, then.” She turned away and took a few steps before calling over her shoulder. “Coming?”

Silence. She was nearly to the shower stalls when she heard his hoofsteps racing to catch up.

Best day ever, indeed.

* * *

Rarity chewed the inside of her lip, an absent, unconscious habit she had picked up years earlier in Ponyville. It had caused her some trouble in the past – once, she had unknowingly bit her lip so hard it caused a minor infection that left her cheek swollen like a peach for days.

After that, she was more careful with her teeth. But still, on days like this, when months of effort and planning and hope all collided in a single hour, the old habit emerged, and her teeth went to work without her realizing it, until eventually she tasted blood. She frowned at the coppery intrusion, just for a moment, then turned her attention back to the most important day of her life.

For two months she had lived in Fillydelphia, eeking out an existence in her upstairs studio filling commissions for society mares. For two months she had scrimped, borrowed, planned, built and waited, waited for this day, for this very hour, when the doors of Carousel Couture would open, and she would once again be in the business of running a fashion boutique.

But this was not like the Carousel Boutique in Ponyville. That little shop was a one-mare operation, and the business of running it was foal’s play compared to the endeavor upon which she was about to embark. This, this was a true business, opening in a busy city with an established fashion industry. There were competitors here, ponies who would smile to her face and celebrate the arrival of yet another boutique, and at the same moment work to undermine her and put her out of business. It wasn’t enough in Fillydelphia to simply make clothes – here, she had to carve out a niche and somehow prosper in it.

And if that weren’t enough, now she had ponies relying on her. Depending on her. Her eyes, which had been scrutinizing the foyer for the slightest imperfection, darted over to her apprentice, Thimble, who was dressing a set of clothes horses with Rarity’s new fall line-up. Autumn, she had read, was the best time to launch a new fashion enterprise, as the colder weather sent ponies shopping for more clothes out of necessity, rather than mere taste.

Thimble was too busy to notice Rarity’s gaze. Her face was set with a tiny little frown as she stared at a row of buttons running down a mannequin’s breast. Unlike a real pony, the mannequin could not cooperate in the putting-on of its fabulous russet dress, and Thimble had already spent hours physically disassembling and reassembling them with their clothes on. It was frustrating work, but Thimble took to it with the stubborn dedication Rarity had long since associated with earth ponies, and it looked like she would get the job done in plenty of time for the grand opening.

The rest of her new shop was immaculate. Tables draped with bunting and cloth coverings the same color as her mane were filled with the tiny, expensive, and not-all-that-tasty appetizers that high-society ponies seemed to love. Bottles of wine that would have staggered her with their price back in Ponyville were set out by the dozens. Flowers with names she couldn’t even pronounce filled decorative vases in each of the room’s corners, adding bright flashes of red and orange and yellow and all the other colors of autumn to the room.

Her grand opening was already the event of the week. She had caused a bit of a stir simply by relocating to Fillydelphia, setting the local chattering classes afire with rumors that Rarity, one of the Elements of Harmony, was finally reaching the big time and opening a shop in a city that mattered. The who’s-who of the nation’s fashion scene had announced their intent to attend. Outside her shop, in the fading light of the early evening, a small crowd of papparazi were readying their bulbs for the glitterati.

“This was a big night for you, huh?” Rainbow Dash asked.

Rarity frowned again. Rainbow Dash wasn’t supposed to be here. In fact, none of her friends from Ponyville were attending. She didn’t blame them for that, of course – Fillydelphia was a day’s journey from Ponyville, and of the five only Fluttershy had any experience with fashion. Truth be told, most of her friends would be terribly out-of-place here. And it bore considering that her friends tended to destroy high-society events. Memories of the Grand Galloping Gala came back in a rush, and just as quickly were suppressed.

But Rainbow Dash was here, and Rarity was nothing if not a generous hostess.

“The biggest,” she said. “I know that sounds silly, what with all we’ve been through. Saving the world, confronting monsters, rescuing princesses...” She let out a quiet sigh. “But never, during any of those, did I feel as afraid as I do now.”

Rainbow Dash hummed something tuneless as she gazed around the boutique. She wore a thick cast around her left foreleg, Rarity noticed.

That’s not right. The accident was years after I moved to Fillydelphia.

For a moment the boutique seemed to shift, as though the world were a sleeping pony not quite happy with its position. Rarity shook her head to clear it.

“You okay?” Rainbow Dash whispered in her ear. Her legs were undamaged, just as Rarity remembered them.

“Yes, sorry... long day, you know.”

“Heh, yeah. I do.” Rainbow plucked a small cracker from one of the appetizer tables and sniffed at it. She made a face, but popped it in her mouth anyway. After noisily chewing it down, she spoke again. “Sorry about missing this, by the way. If I’d known how important it was to you, I’d have come.”

“It’s quite alright, dear. You were busy with the Wonder Bolts, after all.”

“Yeah, but... I dunno, one of us could’ve come. Fluttershy, maybe. Or Twilight.”

“And do what?” Rarity reached out a hoof to brush away a lock of Rainbow’s mane that had fallen across her eyes. “This is my life, not theirs.”

Dash seemed to consider that. She shook her head, dislodging the lock Rarity had fixed and looking again like a tomcolt who hadn’t seen a brush in weeks. “Yeah, well, I still would’ve. Anyway, what happens next?”

“Oh, it goes fabulously, of course,” Rarity said. “In another hour the sun will set and the doors will open. The weather will be a bit warmer than I expected, and the party will spill out into the streets. We’ll even drag a few of the mannequins with us to see how they look under the streetlights. By the time we close up after midnight I’ll already have enough orders for the rest of the season, and one young mare about Sweetie Belle’s age will offer her services as a clerk. A few years from now she’ll become my second apprentice.”

Rainbow Dash seemed to relax at the recitation of good news. “So, it all works out, I guess?”

Countless nights with faceless stallions. A desperate empty pit in her chest. A cruel voice in her head reminding her what a vile little pony she had become. They all waited on this night’s horizon.

“Perfectly, darling,” she said in a small voice. A foal’s voice. “It all works out perfectly.”

* * *

Rarity reclined on one of the hard, institutional couches in the Wonder Bolt’s ready room. Posters lined the walls around her, one for each of the shows they had participated in during the past season. Eighteen in all, three for each month spent on the road. Eighteen wearying weeks greeting countless ponies, relentlessly practicing formations, quizzing herself and her flightmates on the local terrain and landmarks. A bone-deep tiredness she hadn’t felt since the final weeks of the Wonder Bolts training camp settled onto her body like a thousand-ton blanket.

And yet, she smiled. Across the room, sprawled out on an identical couch, Cloud Fire smiled back.

“Fun times, huh? Don’t worry, the first one’s the hardest.”

She snorted and wished she had something to toss at him. “Says you. This was only your second season.”

“Yeah, well, it was easier.”

They shared a laugh that trailed off into an easy silence. Aside from a few administrative tasks, the season was done, and for six weeks the team would disband for a long-overdue vacation. When they returned, on the first day of winter, the yearly training camp for potential recruits would begin at their facility in Cloudsdale, and the whole cycle would start again. Somewhere out there, Rarity knew, a young mare or stallion had circled the day with a red marker, and was in the final stretch of preparation for their own shot at becoming a Wonder Bolt.

She sighed at the thought. Young ponies already looking to replace her. No wonder the average Bolt only lasted three seasons.

The faint sound of wings stirring through the air broke her reverie, and a moment later she felt a heavy weight settle down atop her. Hooves carefully wrapped around her withers, and his muzzle blew a gust of warm breath through her mane. Cloud Fire’s scent – hot sand under a desert sun – filled her nostrils, and she smiled.

This was a blanket she could live with.

Did you know he was my first lover? Rainbow Dash’s voice asked in her head. Not my first stallion, I mean. I’d had sex before him. Lots of times! But he was the first that... the first that made me feel like this. You know what I mean?

Rarity did. She twisted her head to rub her cheek against his.

On other days, after other shows, when they weren’t so bone-wearily tired, their innocent nuzzling might have evolved into something much friendlier. But today Rarity was content to simply lie upon the couch, and Cloud Fire seemed content to simply lie atop her.

* * *

Rarity stared into the wide three-part vanity mirror that dominated an entire corner of her bedroom above the new boutique. It was large enough that she could see her full image in each of its three frames without having to move a muscle.

The mare staring back at her was flawless. Her mane flowed down the side of her neck like an indigo river, its careful curls twisting just enough to appear deliberate without seeming wild. The conservative black saddle on her back marked her as a mare of sophistication without drawing attention away from her beautiful complexion. If anything, its stark darkness emphasized the nearly pure-white tone of her coat. She spent a full minute searching for any blemish, any imperfection that might distract a potential suitor.

There were none, she decided. The reflection was as perfect as a mortal pony could hope to be.

“Looking good,” Rainbow Dash said, suddenly beside her. “What’s the occasion?”

“A date.” She let out a shaking breath. “My first since coming to Fillydelphia.”

“Ah, nice.” Dash nudged her side with a hoof. The Rarity in the mirror, alone in her reflected mirror world, winced. “So, who’s the lucky stallion?”

“Wicker Spark. His mother owns a textile business. We met while I was fabric shopping one day.” That wasn’t entirely true – the Spark family owned the largest textile business in Equestria, and they controlled most of the import market for exotic fabrics like silk and linen. She had met Wicker while negotiating for a particularly fine shipment of cotton, and they had agreed to talk business over cocktails that evening.

That was three weeks ago. It had gone well, well enough to warrant another meeting, then another, and finally this: her first real, indisputable date in the six months since she’d arrived from Ponyville.

Rainbow Dash waggled her eyebrows. “Sounds like a catch. What’s the plan?”

She turned to give Dash an arch look. “Just dinner, followed perhaps by some coffee at one of the little shops around here. They’re like weeds, actually. Sometimes it feels like every other storefront is a coffee shop.”

“So? Ponies like coffee.”

“Mm, well, hopefully he does, too.” Rarity adjusted her mane one final time, then turned for the stairs. “Coming?”

It was February, and the sun was already below the horizon when they left the boutique for the classy Neighponese restaurant Rarity and Wicker had agreed upon for their date. Despite the early hour, the place was already full of ponies, and a line extended out the front door. Rarity recognized a few of her own designs on the waiting ponies’ bodies.

“Huh, crowded,” Dash said. “We gonna wait?”

“No need.” Rarity stepped up to the concierge. “Spark, party of two?”

The unicorn concierge checked a list on his lectern, then looked up with a smile. “Yes. Right this way, Miss Rarity.” He led them through the crowded foyer, past the main dining room and into the much quieter reserved room, where a few tables sparsely occupied by well-dressed ponies engaged in quiet conversation. At the far side of the room, next to a massive aquarium that dominated an entire wall, a handsome young unicorn stallion stood and smiled at them.

Or, rather, he smiled at Rarity as he pulled out her chair. Rainbow Dash he didn’t even notice. She didn’t seem upset by the slight, and she grabbed a chair from a nearby table to pull up beside them.

“Hello, Wicker,” Rarity said. Her voice was soft and warm. “Thank you for waiting.”

He waved a hoof. “Oh, I just arrived. How was your day?”

“Busy as always. You know how it is.”

Beside her, Rainbow Dash was busy inspecting her date. She apparently liked what she saw, and leaned over to nudge Rarity’s ribs. “You didn’t say he looked this nice, Rares.”

Rarity ignored the comment, but couldn’t help her eyes drifting down Wicker’s frame. He was large for a unicorn, with a coat the color of split wood and a mane a few shades darker. His eyes were a brilliant emerald green, the same color as his magic and the trio of oak leaves on his flank arranged in a pattern similar to Rarity’s own gems. He wore an open expression on his face, and she knew from their few weeks of association that his emotions were like an open book. He was one of the friendliest, likable ponies she had ever met, sharp and witty, with a warm sense of humor that could draw a smile from her after even the longest days.

Quite a catch, as Dash said. A cautious hope began to blossom in her chest.

They made small talk until the waitress came by to take their order. Too late, Rarity realized she'd skipped Rainbow Dash.

“I’m sorry dear, would you like anything? We can call her back.” Rarity’s hoof half-rose, ready to summon the waitress.

“Nah, it’s your dream. Pretend I’m not here.”

“You’re sure?”

Dash nodded. “Just enjoy your date.”

Rarity turned back to Wicker, who was waiting for her with a smile. If he had noticed their conversation, he kept it to himself. “Very well. Tell me, Wicker, have you ever lived outside Fillydelphia?”

* * *

The rest of the evening went as Rarity remembered. Polite, warm and fun. They finished their dinner and then a cup of coffee, followed by a nice glass of wine. Eventually the wine was gone, and they ambled back across the neighborhood to Rarity’s boutique. Rainbow Dash followed them the whole way, occasionally providing snarky commentary or whispering a subtle encouragement in Rarity’s ear.

And then their date was over. They stood outside the boutique, shivering slightly in the February wind. A scarf would have been nice, Rarity decided.

“Thank you for the evening, Rarity,” Wicker said. He leaned forward to place a kiss on her cheek. “The first of many, I hope.”

Time seemed to slow for Rarity. She considered her answer – another evening like this would be something to enjoy. She could finally have that one treasure that had eluded her these years, ever since that horrid night at the gala. She could have a stallion to call her own, a prince, a shoulder to rest her head against when she was weary. A partner. A lover.

She made a decision.

“It has been nice, hasn’t it?” She paused for a moment. “Would you like to come in?”

His eyes widened in surprise. Beside her, Rainbow Dash’s did as well.

“Whoa.” A wide grin spread across her face. “No way. No way! Did you just...”

Wicker recovered quickly and cleared his throat. “Ah, well, I don’t want to be a bother...”

“Nonsense.” Rarity’s horn lit up, and the door to her boutique opened. Darkness waited inside. “Please, be my guest.”

He didn’t wait for her to retract the offer, trotting straight through. Dash followed a few steps behind, a grin still on her face.

The shop lit up as Rarity entered, its spells automatically detecting her presence and welcoming her home. “Oh, just ignore this clutter,” she said. She darted around him to the stairs that led up to her second-floor home. “Up here.”

Rarity’s living areas were still sparsely furnished compared to the shops below. Down there she had to impress customers. Up here was only for herself, and she could afford to be spare. She hoped Wicker wouldn’t mind.

He didn’t seem to. After a moment of indecision, he took a seat on her couch, a cautious smile on his face. His tail flicked back and forth like an excited puppy’s.

She stepped around the coffee table and climbed up on the couch beside him. Her heart hammered in her chest; she hoped he couldn’t see her entire frame shaking with nerves. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and leaned against the back of the couch, still facing him.

“So.” He gulped soundlessly, setting the cords in his neck bobbing beneath the skin and coat. “This is a very nice place you have.”

“Oh, this?” She made a show of looking around the dimly lit room. “It’s fine, I suppose. For a new home. I’m still looking for the perfect accessories for it.”

“Well, I think it’s beautiful.” The shaking was gone from his voice, and his eyes rested firmly on her as he spoke.

Rarity blushed at the compliment. For a moment she couldn’t think of any suitable response, and made do by shifting closer to him on the couch. Their coats brushed every time they breathed.

“Not bad,” Rainbow Dash whispered. She had taken to the air as soon as they reached Rarity’s quarters, and was now perched like a bird atop the back of the couch. She looked down at the pair of them with wide, eager eyes and a grin on her face. “What happens next? Don’t tell me you two...”

Rarity cleared her throat. “Well, you know, it had been a while... and he was a very fine specimen.” She glanced at Wicker before looking back up at Dash. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been, shall we say, quick off the mark?”

“Yeah, that’s kinda my thing.” Dash stretched out atop the couch’s high back. “But I didn’t think you’d... well, you know.”

“And what if I did? What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. It’s just weird.”

“Weird?” Rarity drew herself up and huffed. “It’s weird to engage in a perfectly natural and healthy relationship?”

“Hey, hey.” Dash drew back a few inches. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, you know, not what I expected.”

“Humph.” Rarity turned back to Wicker, who was watching her with the same innocent, hopeful expression as before. How had the next part gone? She remembered they talked for a bit, neither willing to make the next move, until finally...

Aha. She gave Dash a little smirk, then leaned forward and placed a light kiss on Wicker’s lips. He was too stunned to do anything but blink.

“Whoa! Nice, girl.” Dash grinned down at her, their little tiff already forgotten.

Well, of course it was nice. This evening was one of her fonder memories. A lovely evening with a handsome stallion, before the regrets began to pile up in her psyche and that wicked voice came to torment her. She shoved those memories hastily back into the dusty corners of her mind and turned her attention back to Wicker.

He still looked a bit stunned. She gave him a demure smile and leaned back, waiting. Any moment now...

She could practically see him gathering his courage. He licked his lips, his hooves pawed at the cushions, and eventually he leaned forward to press his mouth against hers. She smiled and made a quiet, encouraging sound in the back of her throat.

A hesitant, shaking hoof touched her shoulder. When she didn’t flinch away, it slowly traced its way across her coat, around her neck, until it found the thick coils of her mane. She let him play with her hair for a little while, not caring for the mess it must be making of her style. Manes could be fixed, after all.

She opened her lips gently, letting her tongue out to probe at his. His whole frame jolted at the sudden, wet contact, but then his mouth opened as well, and she felt his tongue, still tasting of the wine from earlier in the evening, carefully touching hers.

Rarity lost track of time as they kissed. Eventually the feel of his hot breath and three sets of rapid heartbeats brought her back to the present. She pulled away from Wicker long enough to glance up at Rainbow Dash, who looked at them with wide eyes and a flushed face. She smiled and was about to remark on Dash’s state when Wicker’s teeth nipped at her neck. The sensation was sharp and painful and absolutely delicious, and she cooed in encouragement as his nibbling teeth worked their way down her chest.

She tried to roll onto her side, but the couch wasn’t quite large enough. She grumbled and tried to twist into a better position before simply giving up and standing.

“Come with me,” she said, and turned toward the bedroom. She didn’t have to look back to know that he followed a step behind.

She paused long enough to shed the saddle. It didn’t cover any essential parts of her body, but she wanted every inch of her coat exposed for what was about to come next. The silken covers on her bed, the only expensive item she’d managed to procure for her new home, felt like water against her skin. She rolled atop them, not caring that he watched, then came to a rest on her side.

His form was a dark shape silhouetted against the candlelight streaming in from her living room. His entire body trembled as he stepped toward her. She waited, but he came to a stop at the foot of her bed, and stared at it like it was a yawning chasm. It occurred to her, now many years later, that this might have been his first time in a lady’s bed.

But at the time that had never occurred to her. She gave her tail an impatient flick. “Wicker, I’d be very happy if you joined me.”

That seemed to do the trick. He lifted a careful hoof and stepped onto her bed. Another step, trembling and shaking. His breath was the loudest sound in the room as he settled down nose-to-nose with her. They were back to parity.

Which was fine, but that wasn’t why she’d invited him to her bedroom. She leaned her weight forward to press her lips against his again.

After an indeterminate time, she heard a sound that didn’t belong – a hoofstep on her hardwood floor. She looked up to see Rainbow Dash in the doorway, staring at them with wide eyes.

Stupid. So caught up in memories you forgot your friend. She met Dash’s eyes, held them, and gave her a tiny nod.

Dash got the message. Her wings fluttered soundlessly in the dark, and she lifted into the air to drift across the room and settle on the bed beside her. Her scent, faintly of sweat and rain and the tang of ozone after a thunderstorm, followed.

Rarity resisted the urge to press her muzzle against Dash’s side. This dream was about Wicker, not Dash. If Dash wanted a dream, well, they could work something out later.

Wait dream what is this what’s going—

A wet tongue found her ear, and she moaned for the first time that night. New sensations began to make their presence known – the frantic beat of her heart, the salty taste of sweat on his coat, and most especially the hot, slippery coal between her thighs. She ground her legs together and twisted on the sheets, presenting the long arch of her neck to his lips for further exploration.

The bed shifted as he rose onto his forelegs and loomed above her. He kissed his way down, from her ear to her jaw to her neck and shoulders, his lips exploring every inch of her skin. She rolled onto her back, exposing her chest and belly to his assault. Her hooves batted at the air, occasionally brushing his firm legs and chest as he kissed his way further down her body. Three sets of breaths, all heavy and shaking, filled her bedroom.

She risked a glance between his legs and was rewarded with a gratifying sight. He apparently found their play as enjoyable as she, and his cock already strained against his belly. It bobbed faintly up and down in time with his pulse, and she saw a slick glimmer at its tip. Curious, she reached out a hoof and brushed it against the length of his shaft. For an instant his entire body stiffened, and she heard the catch of breath in his throat.

On another night, years in the future and with more stallions than she could remember under her belt, Rarity might have done something adventurous with her tongue. She might have licked that precious drop of fluid from his shaft, and coaxed more from him with her mouth. She might have done some of the many things described in that naughty book she stole from her mother’s drawer as a filly.

But she wasn’t that pony yet. Instead she pushed him gently away and rolled onto her belly, her haunches thrust into the air and her tail lifted in a clear invitation. He was quick to accept, and she felt his larger form pressing down against her back, moments before a thick, insistent pressure pushed against her lips, slowly forcing them apart.

She gasped at the sudden sensation, and he stopped. She answered his silent question with a jerky nod, and he pushed again, deeper and deeper, until his hips came to rest against her flanks. Her tail, pinned between their bodies, twitched with each little movement he made inside her.

Her bedroom, her large and open and airy bedroom, now seemed stuffy and thick with the addictive odor of sweat and sex and her own arousal. Rarity drank in the scents and revelled in them, especially the new one intruding from the bed beside them. She turned her head to see Rainbow Dash practically shivering, propped up on one foreleg while the other crept down her belly to her thighs.

She caught Rarity’s eyes, and her blush was as bright as the red locks in her mane. The trembling hoof froze, and she turned to stare at the featureless bedroom wall.

That wouldn’t do. Rarity reached out to touch Dash’s leg. “There’s no shame here, Dash.”

Dash turned back to Rarity, her face still flushed, and she opened her mouth as though to speak. Nothing emerged, though, and Rarity’s attention was drawn elsewhere when Wicker began to move again.

She bit back the moan that threatened to pour from her throat as he began thrusting. He wasn’t a particularly skilled lover, clumsy and overeager, but there was an earnestness about him, a palpable desire she could read in every movement of his body, an urgent wish to please her. It was this feeling, more than the simple pleasure building in her pelvis, that slowly brought her to the edge. She bit her lip and pushed back with her hips with each thrust, silently willing him to push harder, faster and deeper.

Their lovemaking was simple by the standards she would later use. A vanilla position, with no attempts to vary their pace or even pause. He thrust and thrust and that was it, except for the daring moment his teeth fastened in her mane and tugged her head back from the covers. She moaned in response, and that was enough to set him off. A few final, ragged thrusts later, she felt the liquid heat of his climax spilling into her, followed by the heady wave of her own orgasm.

They collapsed onto the bed together, panting. He nuzzled her jaw, just below her ear, and she turned her head to accept a chaste kiss, demure all out of proportion to the act they had just concluded. They kissed again, slow and unhurried and happily.

A quiet groan broke through the fog in Rarity’s mind, and she glanced over to see Rainbow Dash finishing herself off. She lay on her side, her upper body propped up on one elbow, the other leg furiously at work between her splayed legs. The swollen, pouting lips beneath her hoof were slathered with clear fluid that darkened the fur around them. Dash pressed her hoof hard against the top of her slit, and for a long moment her entire body shook before she sank back down to the mattress. Their eyes met, and Rarity could not say how long they stared at each other in the darkness.

And then a strong hoof reached across her chest, pulling her tight against the stallion behind her. The darkness filling the bedroom seemed to multiply, and soon enough the whole world fell into a peaceful oblivion.

* * *

“This is your dream,” Rainbow Dash whispered. “It’s not mine.”

Rarity’s eyes slowly opened. They were on her bed in her boutique in Fillydelphia. Wicker Spark still nestled tight against her back, his breath tickling her mane with each slow rise and fall of his chest. A few feet away, Rainbow Dash lay on her belly, her mane wildly askew.

A faint stir of unease began to build in Rarity’s gut. “What do you mean, dear?”

“I mean, I know I’m dreaming,” Dash said. “This can’t be real. But it’s like... like it’s your dream. Your memories. None of this is mine.”

Rarity bit the inside of her cheek. “Maybe you’re just imaging it. We’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

“Yeah, but...” Dash’s eyebrows drew together, and she squinted hard at the covers, as though they were hiding some message from her. “Before this, with Cloud Fire, that was my memory. But you were there. It was like I was just watching you live out my dream.”

Was that what she was doing? The details dripped through her hooves like water, but she remembered Dash’s first Wonder Bolts show, and the assignations with Cloud Fire afterward. She hadn’t realized Dash had taken him as a lover – it never occurred to her that Soarin might not be Dash’s first conquest on the team.

She shook her head; she was getting sidetracked. This was supposed to be about helping Dash. “Your dreams have been troubling you, haven’t they?”

“No.” She paused. “Fine, maybe. But not like this. This is just weird. Why are you here? Why am I here?”

“Does it matter?” Rarity carefully lifted Wicker’s leg and crawled over to Dash. “We’re friends. We trust each other. Maybe it’s good that we’re together. Here, I mean.” Those last words she added hastily.

Dash rose to her feet and clamored off the bed, kicking at the sheets that clung to her hooves. “No, no. This isn’t supposed to be happening, you’re not supposed to—”

Before she could finish, they woke.

But not really.

* * *

“Hey, uh,” Cloud Fire stopped, cleared his throat, and tried again. “How you doing?”

“Good,” Rarity said. She didn’t look up from the large map spread out on the Bolt’s ready room table. A series of colored markers rested by her hoof with their caps off, and after a few minutes of study she picked one up and drew a careful line between two reference points. “Real good. You?”

“Oh, you know. Good.”

“That’s real good. I’m glad.” Rarity selected another marker and annotated a flight path on the map. The green line wound between the high hills that surrounded the Cloudsdale training facility, across a steep river valley, and came to a stop at the parade field. A decent warm-up for tomorrow morning’s training.

Rarity heard his hooves shuffle on the linoleum tiles. He started to come closer, stopped, then apparently decided to circle around the table opposite her.

Silence. She studied the map, waiting.

“So, mission planning, huh? Looks fun.”

She gave a noncommittal grunt.

More silence.

Celestia, I was a real bitch to him that day, huh? Rainbow Dash’s thoughts filled the emptiness. I guess he deserved it, though. A little.

“You, uh, you heard about Aurora and me, I guess?”

More than that, actually. Rarity had seen them together after their last show in Manehattan, meeting behind the stands where the crowds were thin and the rest of the team wouldn’t bother to look. Meeting with their heads together, whispering. Parting with a long gaze into each others’ eyes and a longer kiss.

Yeah, she’d heard about that.

“I heard you were seeing somepony,” Rarity said. She was proud of how calm she sounded, like she was talking about the weather or something equally unimportant. “She sounds nice.”

“Yeah, she is.” For those few words, Cloudy’s voice lost their nervous edge. She could practically hear the smile on his lips.

Fucking bastard.

“That’s great,” she said instead. “I’m really glad for you. I hope you have fun together.”

Silence again. She wondered if, perhaps, she had put a little too much emphasis on that last word.

Nah.

“So I just wanted to, uh, talk with you about that,” he said. “Make sure we’re still cool.”

“Yeah, we’re cool.”

Definitely a bit of a bitch. Remind me to apologize next time I see him, Rares.

His hooves shuffled on the tile floor again. “Well, uh, just wanted to talk with you about that. I’ll let you get back to work.”

She didn’t answer. Eventually he took the hint and left.

And that was fine.

* * *

Rarity looked up from the worktable. The dress she’d been working on, a sheer little number all done in rubies and lace, sat half-done before her, waiting for the stroke of genius that would find the last piece needed to bring it all together. Across the room Thimble and Weave paused in their chatter for a moment, and when Rarity said nothing, put their heads back together to continue plotting the upcoming spring fashion line.

“What the hell, Rarity!” Rainbow Dash said. She spun in place, staring at the boutique like its blue pastel walls were a prison. “What’s going on?”

“Calm down, Dash. It’s just a dream—”

“No!” Dash stumbled away before Rarity could reach her. “That was me! That was me with Cloudy, my memory, my life! How did you get in it?”

“We’re just sharing, Dash. That’s all. Don’t you trust—”

“Trust?” Dash’s scratchy voice rose another octave. “This isn’t about trust. What the hell did you do to me?”

“You’re seeing my dreams too, you know.” Rarity said. She willed her heart to slow its rapid beating, and kept her tones as soft and even as possible. She could be an adult about this – one of them had to, at least. “Do you think I’d just tell anypony about that night with Wicker? Dash, that was rather personal.”

“Well, maybe I didn’t want to see it,” Dash shot back. “Did you think about that? Maybe I don’t want to share. Make it stop!”

Rarity grimaced. “I don’t... I don’t think I can, dear. It’s not my spell.”

“Well, whose was it, then? Get them to stop it!”

“I can’t,” Rarity said. Her voice grew hot with frustration. “I’m stuck too. But don’t worry, Twilight said dreams can’t hurt anypony.”

“Twilight?!” Dash stared at Rarity, her eyes starting to water even as her body trembled. “What the fuck does Twilight know about dreams?”

That was possibly a question Rarity should have asked earlier, she realized. Come to think of it, there had been a few occasions where their bookish friend had seemed so certain about something, only to realize later...

Oh. Hm.

“Dash, darling, there’s nothing you could dream that would make me feel any less of you. I hope you know that.” Rarity fought to keep the nervous quaver out of her voice. “Just try to relax, please. Please.”

“No. No no NO!” Dash clenched her eyes shut and backed away. “I’ve got to wake up. I’ve got to wake up. I’ve got to wake—”

Before she could finish, they woke.

But not really.

* * *

“Not bad, lieutenant. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you actually practiced for that last stunt.”

Rarity looked over her shoulder with a smirk. She stood, holding her legs stiff, and angled a wing in mocking salute. “Sir, a Wonder Bolt practices for every maneuver!”

“Now I know you're lying.” Soarin reached out with a wingtip to swat her; she ducked it easily, then danced away before he could try again. “Still, good job out there.”

She shrugged. “It was a good crowd. We should come here more often.” Her eyes followed him as he disappeared behind the partition that separated the mares' changing area from the stallions'. When he emerged a few minutes later, he had ditched his flightsuit and goggles and looked for all the world like any pegasus on the street. Larger, perhaps, with toned muscles that came from hard flying, but nothing that screamed “Wonder Bolt.” She lingered on those muscles for a bit longer, and nearly missed his next question.

You know, for two years on the team, I never looked at Soarin like that? Rainbow Dash’s voice asked in the back of her mind. What I would give to have those years back...

“Have you been to Fillydelphia before?” Soarin asked.

* * *

“No, no...” Rainbow Dash sobbed beside Rarity. Around them, the traffic on the Fillydelphia sidewalk flowed by without pause. The sun was high and bright and warm against their coats. The pile of misery at Rarity’s hooves didn’t seem to notice. “Please stop it, Rarity. You don’t want to see it. I don’t want to see it.”

“Darling, I can’t, I’m sorry.” For the first time since their dreams began, Rarity felt a rush of panic building in her chest. “I can’t. I don’t know how. But Twilight said dreams can’t hurt anypon—”

* * *

A pair of hooves clamped over her eyes. “Guess who?” Soarin's voice said behind her.

Rarity chuckled. He never got tired of this joke. “Spitfire?”

“Hm, nope, more handsome. Try again!”

“Oh, definitely Cloud Fire, then.” She tried to turn around, but he had her in a pretty good grip. She could probably break free, but that would require escalating things to a level of controlled violence that wasn't appropriate just yet. Besides, she was still sleepy, and the bed was very comfortable.

The body wrapped around her scoffed. “What, him? You're kidding.”

“Oh no. He's definitely the most handsome stallion I know.” Rarity grinned. “Such strong muscles, beautiful mane, and that body... oh, that body. Yeah, I'd do that.”

Of course, I really did do that. I never thought I’d be able to joke about it like this, though. Weird how love works. Time does heal all wounds, huh?

“Well, guess again anyway.”

“Aw. Can you pretend to be Cloud Fire, then? I'm stuck with some loser stallion.”

“You know, you're not helping my feelings of inadequacy here.” The hooves vanished, and she rolled over to come face-to-face with her lover. Soarin gave her a mock wounded look.

“Oh, you're saying you feel inadequate? Not quite performing up to standard?” She ran a hoof over his broad chest, enjoying the feel of firm muscle beneath his coat.

“Well, you have such demanding standards.” He gave her snout a lick. “Oh, and happy birthday.”

Celestia, was it my birthday? It didn’t seem that long ago...

* * *

“Stop it! STOP IT PLEASE!” Rainbow Dash’s scream pierced Rarity’s heart like a knife. Around them, the guests at Rarity’s fancy garden party chatted and nibbled on the expensive treats she’d set out for the evening. A dozen gorgeous stallions and mares wearing her latest line of summer wear trotted about the party, making small talk with the guests as they modeled her wares. She was wealthy enough now to afford living mannequins.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Rarity couldn’t stop babbling. The apologies poured out of her mouth. She tried to light her horn, to cast some spell, any spell that might wake her or Dash and end the dreams, but nothing worked. Nothing disturbed the unnatural completeness of the scene around them. She reached out and rested her hoof on Dash’s shoulder, as much to support herself as to comfort her friend.

“Get off me!” Dash slapped her hoof away and stumbled away. “I said make it stop!”

“I can’t!” Rarity was crying too, now. “I’m sorry, Dash, but I can’t! I don’t know how!”

Dash moaned and pressed her hooves against her head, her eyes clenched shut to block out the dream. “Get out get out get out...”

“Dash, please stop—”

“Get out! Get out of my head!” Dash pounded her hoof against the side of her head. Again, and again. A smear of blood marred the blue coat beneath her ear.

“—you’re hurting yourself—”

“Get out of my head get out get out GET OUT!” Dash turned and slammed her head into the doorframe beside them. The entire structure vibrated, and Rarity heard the wood frame crack from the force of the impact. Drops of blood arced through the air as Dash drew her head back, then bashed it into the frame again. Flinders of wood, stained a bright crimson, fell onto the floor beneath her.

And through it all, she never stopped screaming. Until she woke.

But again, alas, not really.

* * *

Rarity tilted the pinions in her left wing a fraction of a degree. The flow of air over her feathers shifted, and her straight course became a slow, easy bank that arced toward the training field on the far side of the huge meadow beneath her.

Up ahead, Soarin and Zephyr waited for her in a casual mid-air hover. Even from a distance, she could see the sheen of sweat on their coats. It was a warm day already, an oddity this early in the spring, but Rarity wasn’t going to complain. Winter had never been her favorite season, and seeing the snows gradually chased away and replaced by the green grass brought back fond memories of her foalhood.

Soarin waved as she drew closer. “About time!” he called.

“What? I was busy.”

“Uh huh. Busy napping?”

She didn’t dignify that with an answer, largely because it was true. Not that it mattered – it wasn’t even a real training day. Their annual training camp had just ended, and by custom the instructors had a week to recover from their own grueling participation. Working 18 hours a day for seven days a week was hard on a pegasus’s body, whether they were a trainer or a trainee.

They could hardly begrudge her a little nap after that.

“Hey Rarity,” Zephyr said. She drifted closer and reached out to bump hooves. “Ready to get back to work?”

“You know it! What’s the plan?”

“Pyro for us. You can do whatever,” Soarin said. He and Zephyr were already fitted with charms around their hooves for fireworks, smoke trails and other pyrotechnic displays, she saw. Below them, a safety team had one of the bunkers open and was overseeing a swap-out of last season’s unused inventory with a fresh shipment from Cloudsdale.

“Huh. Just remember to take a shower this time, okay?” she said. “Last time we did pyro you came home smelling like a forest fire.”

Soarin just rolled his eyes. Zephyr snickered.

Rarity was about to turn and fly back to her own training when a thought occurred to her. “Hey, where’s Cloudy? I thought he was back today.”

“He extended his leave for another day,” Soarin said. “I’m covering for him. We briefed it yesterday at stand-up, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Rarity did, in fact, have a vague memory of something like that being discussed at their daily meeting. Not that she ever paid much attention during those. “Slipped my mind, you know?”

“Mhm. Anyway, leave us a few hundred feet of clearance. We’re using the small bangers, but this is all last year’s stock. Might be a bit more volatile than usual.”

“Sure, sure. Anything else?”

“I think that’s it. Zephyr?” He waited for her to shake her head. “Okay. We’ll go ‘til noon, then grab some lunch.

Rarity nodded. Below, one of the unicorns on the safety team looked up at them and waved. She grinned and waved back. Always there for her fans.

They broke apart and took to their respective training tasks. For Rarity, that meant practicing her maneuverability. She still wasn’t quite as agile in the air as Soarin, but she’d come a long way from the clumsy speed freak who muscled her way through training on sheer willpower and the strength of her reputation. Nowadays she could even manage to catch him during their impromptu games of aerial tag.

He was still a better wrestler, though.

She fell into an easy routine high above the meadow, using a series of wild clouds as a makeshift obstacle course. The wispy things drifted unpredictably in the warm thermals rising from the ground, and she spent the first two hours of the morning dodging between them as fast as her wings could carry her.

She was dripping with sweat by the time the sun rolled toward its zenith. Below her, the ground crews were still swapping out the inventory in the bunkers, and started laying out rows of metal tanks and wood crates in lines along the grass. She gave them a curious look and was about to return to her practice when Soarin’s voice caught her ear. She looked up and saw him flying closer with Zephyr in tow. A quick flip of her wings changed her heading, and she fell into formation on his free wing.

“Hey, lunch already?” she asked. They were flying slow and low enough to still talk.

He shook his head. “Ground crews want us gone. They need clear airspace for the swap.”

“What, seriously? Let me guess, they don’t want us dripping on them?”

He tried to swat her with the tip of his wing. She avoided it effortlessly and fell back into position before his wing returned to full extension. Zephry smirked at their little exchange but held her tongue.

Safety. It was a safety issue. Rainbow Dash whispered in her mind. Transfers were the only time the explosives were uncovered and the bunkers were open simultaneously.

“They’re just following rules, LT,” Soarin said. “Remember those? Come in a big book we’re all supposed to read?”

“Uh huh. Hey, isn’t there something in that book about not fucking your teammates?”

He actually blushed, and she mentally added another point to her score. “That one hasn’t been enforced for decades,” he said. “And I don’t think anypony ever cared, if some of the stories are to be believed.”

“So why’s it in the book, then? Somepony doesn’t want us having a little fun?

“It cuts down on the drama. Remember when you wouldn’t talk to Cloudy for a month? That kind of thing.”

“That was his fault, not mine! Maybe they should just add a rule about not being an asshole to your team—”

“Hey, what’s that?” Zephyr interrupted, her voice as calm and level as always. It was so unexpected that Rarity instantly shut up and looked down at where Zephyr was pointing.

There was some commotion on the ground near one of the bunker doors. They were close enough to make out the glow from the team chief’s horn, while all around him other ponies dropped what they were doing and ran at full speed away from the stockpiled of materiel gathered on the ground. Within seconds they were a hoofball field’s length away, and the unicorn turned. This glow around his horn died as he began to run too.

It all happened too fast for anything more than a faint feeling of unease to build in Rarity’s gut. She edged closer to Soarin, until she felt the eddies in the air spilling off his wings with her own feathers.

“What the hell?” She forced a smile on her face to combat the nervous tremble in her voice. “Think we should get out of—”

There was a flash of light beneath them as bright as the sun. Rarity turned just in time to see the earth rise into the air toward her, swiftly followed by darkness.

* * *

Cinders drifted on furnace winds.

Rarity opened her left eye. The right was clotted shut and screamed its pain. Hot dirt ground against her face as she struggled in a futile attempt to rise to her hooves. Her body failed, broken far beyond the weakling punishments it had endured in the foalish crashes of her youth, and she flailed helplessly on the ground.

Stop. Stop. Rainbow Dash’s voice, calm and unhurried, sounded in her mind. You’re panicking.

Rarity gasped for breath and nearly choked on the burning air. Its sere touch added another pain to the mosaic wracking her body. She coughed away the poisonous fumes before they could burn out her lungs.

Remember your training. Observe.

She went limp and craned her head around. Thick clouds of smoke roiled above her and obscured the sun; the nearest of them felt hot enough to curl the hairs of her coat. The loud rampant rush of a blazing fire sounded somewhere close. Faintly, in the distance, a siren began to wail.

Orient. There’s been an accident. You’re hurt. You are in danger.

Wonder Bolt’s safety training, the first thing drilled remorselessly into the heads of all new fliers, instantly leapt to her mind. No pony was allowed to fly with the team until they could recite the safety protocols and procedures backwards and forwards, under the most stressful situations the team could devise. Even now, feeling half dead, they were a clear and solid anchor against the chaos around her.

Decide. You need to get up. You need to try flying. You need to help anypony else who is hurt, and then you need to get out.

The neat order of thoughts, almost like a flight plan, helped calm her racing heart. It was a checklist, and she could do checklists. Twilight loves checklists. The stray thought passed through her conscience without stopping, and she didn’t trouble herself with it.

Anyway, at that moment she could not have said who Twilight Sparkle was.

Act.

She pushed herself onto her belly and struggled to draw in her limbs. One, her left foreleg, didn’t seem to be working the way it should. She ignored it for the moment and focused on the rest, and managed to lever herself into a wobbly stance. The ground around her was torn apart, raw earth exposed and scorched black by some unimaginable heat. A dozen feet away, smoke vomited from a shattered bunker door.

“Soarin?” she shouted. He was supposed to be here. She remembered him at her wingtip, just before... whatever had happened. Now there was nothing around her but smoke and chaos and pain and fear. Only the distant siren, still wailing its panic-song, gave any sign that she was on the training grounds, rather than dead in some hellish Tartarus.

Rarity tried taking a step, and her foreleg collapsed, sending her stumbling back to the dirt. A wave of sickening pain radiated from the limb, and when she stood again, it swung limply from an extra joint just above her knee. She stared at it, numb with incomprehension, then turned her scattered thoughts back to finding Soarin.

A scrap of brown feathers, stained with red, caught her eye. She hobbled over on three legs, ignoring the blistering heat that rose from the embers around her. A few feet away from her goal, she stopped.

Half of Zephry’s wing lay on the bare earth. Only a few tattered feathers remained. Rarity stared at them numbly for a few moments, then turned and resumed her search.

A shadow flicked across the ground, followed by another. She ignored the pain in her neck and twisted her head up to the sky. High above, pegasi were beginning to circle around the tower of smoke rising from all about her. She stared at them for a long moment, then turned back to her search.

“Soarin!” she called. A hot metallic taste tainted the back of her throat. “Soarin!”

A faint sound, something that may have been a cough, managed to break through the siren’s call. Rarity spun toward it and stumbled forward until her legs collapsed again. Sharp, hot rocks cut the skin on her belly as she dragged herself closer to a shallow pit just barely visible through the acrid haze. She crested the little ridge of torn dirt and beheld her lover.

Soarin’s chest rose fitfully with each breath. He’d managed to roll himself onto his back. It was impossible to guess at his wounds beneath all the blood.

His head turned as she drew closer, and – improbably, crazily, unbelievably – he smiled.

According to the accident report, this never happened. Rainbow Dash whispered in her mind. He was killed on impact, just like Zephyr. They say I imagined all this.

His mouth moved, and she could imagine the words. Hey, lady.

“H-hey...” She paused to lick her lips. They were dry and cracked, and she tasted iron. She tried to smile for him, then pushed herself up onto her three working hooves to face the pegasi above them. “Help... hey, help! Help us!”

The circling shadows changed course, drawing closer. The wind picked up, blowing away some of the haze, and for a moment hope began to replace the numbing dread that had filled her since waking in this hell.

The siren suddenly died. The distant hills echoed it back for several seconds, slowly fading, until only the crackle of fire and rush of smoke filled her ears.

That was odd. The siren should have lasted until emergency crews took charge of the scene. She looked around as best she could with one working eye. No, no emergency crews yet.

Perhaps it was just a test, her addled mind suggested. It was just an exercise, and at any moment Soarin and Zephyr would laugh and stand up and they would head back to the canteen for a well-deserved round of drinks, followed by a bit of intimacy in the shower—

That happy line of thinking dissolved. A harsh, cracking buzz, as loud as a falling tree and angry as a nest of hornets, cut easily through the roaring fire. Above her, the vague shapes of the circling pegasi suddenly darted away, leaving only smoke and empty skies. She stared up at them in shock.

They’re following procedure, Dash’s voice answered. That’s the bunker’s integrity alarm. There’s a fire in there somewhere, and eventually the seals on the explosives will fail. When you hear that sound, you drop everything and get away.

“No...” Rarity turned back to Soarin. His eyes had closed, and only the weak rise and fall of his chest suggested he still lived. She moved toward him with unsteady steps. Her broken leg somehow hurt even more, and she noticed a constant trickle of blood pattering onto the ground beneath her.

“Rarity... Rarity!”

Rarity looked up from her leg to see Spitfire, just a few feet away. Her yellow coat was smeared black with soot, but she seemed uninjured. Her eyes were wide and filled with fear.

“What are you doing?!” She reached out to grab a hoofful of Rarity’s mane and started dragging her away from the bunker door. “Come on, move your ass!”

“No.” Rarity shook free and planted her hoves. “He’s hurt. Need to get him out.”

“What?” Spitfire stared at her for a moment, then turned to the pit beside them. Her face twisted, but just as quickly she grabbed Rarity and started dragging her again. “Just... come on.”

“No. No! He’s hurt!”

“He’s dead!” Spitfire yelled and gave her another tug. The sudden jerk sent Rarity stumbling to her knees, and she felt something tear in her left leg. She looked down to see a wide spur of bone slick with blood. Her entire lower leg dangled by a scrap of wet flesh.

“Oh fuck.” Spitfire flinched at the sight. “Fuck. Okay, okay. Just... just climb on my back. Come on.”

“But Soarin—”

“Come on!” Spitfire twisted under Rarity and hoisted her onto her back. It was awkward, and her wings could barely flap hard enough to lift off, but it was enough. Rarity didn’t have the strength to struggle as Spitfire carried her away.

Rarity twisted her head, trying to find Soarin through the swirling smoke behind them. They were just a few hundred yards away when the hill beneath the bunker door rose into the air, as though the very earth had decided to take flight. Two seconds later, the loudest clap of thunder Rarity had ever heard assaulted her ears, and the shockwave rolling out from the explosion swatted them to the ground.

And then she woke.

At last.

The Morning After, part 1

The dawn was a dim, pinkish smear along the east horizon, barely visible through the bedroom window, when Rainbow Dash woke.

She sucked in a gasp of air. Her lungs burned as though she had held her breath for a dozen minutes or more. Just as quickly she coughed, choking on the thick wet air that smothered the world’s surface. She sometimes forgot she was a creature of the airless reaches of the clouds, and she would always be a visitor on the ground. An intruder in their warm homes and loving families.

It’s not for you. You don’t belong here.

She sat like that, gasping, shaking, dripping with sweat. The last moments of the dream played out in her mind, as vivid and real as if she had just lived them. They did not fade away like a normal dream; they did not slip through the holes in her memory like water through a net. Every scene was crisp and sharp. Perfect. Real.

And impossible.

She had never visited Rarity’s shop in Fillydelphia. She certainly hadn’t tagged along for her amorous night with Wicker Spark. A vision of the earth pony stallion mounting Rarity swam through her mind, and she could smell the faint, pleasant tannic scent of his coat. She still tasted his sweat on her tongue, this stallion she had never met.

What the fuck.

More scenes unwound themselves. The Wonderbolts. Soarin. Cloud Fire. Rarity. Always Rarity; every memory stank of her lilac perfume and the faint intoxicating musk of an aroused mare. It made her want to sneeze.

The imagined, pungent scent was not the only odd thing. Her eyes crossed to see a faint, unfocused glow emanating from from her muzzle. She reached up and touched her face with her hoof. A few drops of liquid clung to it as she pulled away, radiating a gentle silver light, like moonlight on the ocean. It smelled of junipers.

This, this was weird. Wrong. She knew magic when she saw it, and when she went to bed her face hadn’t been smeared with a glowing, juniper-smelling potion. Bits of conversation floated back into her mind.

“Your dreams have been troubling you, haven’t they?”

Rarity. She turned her head to the warm weight at her side. The unicorn sharing her bed was still asleep, though a sheen of sweat covered her coat, and her face twisted with pain. Little twitches shook her body, and Rainbow heard her wheezing for breath.

And all along her forehead, between her eyes and running down her muzzle, shining like a star about to fade into the sunrise, were droplets of that same liquid.

“Twilight said dreams can’t hurt anypony.”

“What did you do, Rares...” She extended her hoof toward Rarity’s face. Inches away she paused. Rarity’s whole body jerked as some nightmare played itself out beneath her closed eyes. Inches away she stopped. Her hoof trembled, and deep in her hollow bones something begged her to push forward, to touch that soft white coat and still that trembling body with her lips.

“What did you—”

Rarity’s eyes flew open. Her back arched violently, peeling her chest and head away from the mattress to gape up at the dark ceiling. Her mouth opened wide enough to swallow a hoof, and the breath she sucked in was loud and shrill, like a scream in reverse. The covers twisted beneath her hooves, their seams snapping with a series of staccato pops.

The gasp trailed off into silence, and for a long moment Rarity held that pose, head craned toward the sky, her eyes wide and unseeing, her legs taut as iron bars. The ends of her long amethyst mane vibrated in time with the beat of her heart. The tang of fear pouring from her body stung Dash’s nose.

Like two statues they sat, frozen in the act of waking. Dash realized her wings were spread, ready to launch her into the air. Rarity’s eyes darted about the dark room, never stopping, never focusing, never seeing. Her legs began to shake, and just when Dash thought she was about to collapse back onto the bed, she stood.

Tried to stand. Her legs straightened, but her hooves tangled in the torn covers, and she stumbled to her knees. She stood again on three legs with her left foreleg held awkwardly against her chest, but the soft bed betrayed her footing, and she slipped again, this time sliding off the mattress entirely to land on the wood floor with a dull thump. Rainbow Dash heard more than saw her scramble away from the bed. The scratch of her hooves against the floorboards filled the air until Rarity came to rest against the far wall.

Silence, broken by sound of Rarity’s harsh, panting breath, smothered the dark room. Rainbow Dash took a careful step off the bed toward her friend. She paused halfway across the floor.

“Rarity?”

The frantic breaths caught, like cloth snagged on a thorn, and for a brief moment true silence returned. Dash saw Rarity’s dim figure pressed against the wall, her left foreleg held against her chest. The faint glow of the liquid slathered across their faces was completely extinguished; only the cool touch of the air on her muzzle and the lingering scent of junipers reminded her it had ever existed at all.

“D-Dash?” Rarity’s voice, tremulous and halting, returned from the darkness.

“Yeah.” Dash moved closer. A phantom pain in her left foreleg protested the movement. As always, she ignored it. “What happened, Rares? What did you do?”

“I... I...” Rarity stopped and gulped for air. She seemed unable to hold down a breath for more than a second. “I wanted to... I just wanted to...” Her lungs failed again, and she resumed her desperate gasping.

A part of Rainbow Dash’s mind absently noted the signs of shock on Rarity’s face – the pale lips, sweating, disorientation, hyperventilation. If Rarity were a Wonderbolt trainee, Dash would order her to lie down before she collapsed. As Rarity was already lying down, there was little Dash could do but wait and see if she would continue speaking or simply pass out.

“Right, just… hang on, okay?” Dash kept her eyes on Rarity and slowly moved toward the bedside table and its lamp. It was an older kerosene model, with a blue base covered in musical notes and a tall glass chimney darkened by soot. Although the customer area of the Carousel Boutique had used electric lights for years, Sweetie had apparently not seen much point in upgrading the bedrooms just yet. Dash fumbled with the spark wheel in the darkness but managed to light the wick after a few false starts. Within seconds the lamp’s warm glow had chased away the night’s dark shadows.

“Okay.” She paused to take a breath, then turned back to Rarity. The unicorn huddled in a ball against the wall as though trying to press herself into it. Her head twisted hard to the side, and her eyes were scrunched shut in pain. She held her left leg off the floor and hugged it against her chest with her right. Sweat painted shining streaks down her coat and plastered strands of her mane all across her face.

“Listen to me, Rarity.” Dash moved as she spoke, and settled down in front of her friend. “Listen. Can you do that?”

Rarity was still for a moment, then gave a jerky nod with her head. Her cheek left a dark, wet smear on the wallpaper as it moved.

“Okay, good. I want you to breathe with me.” She set her hoof on Rarity’s shoulder with just enough pressure to be felt. The coat beneath was cold and clammy, and the heart deep within beat a frantic, panicked tattoo. “Breathe with me. Slow in.”

“Breathe…”

“Yeah, breathe. Like this.” Dash drew in a long, slow breath through her nose, held it, and let it out with a soft hiss between her lips. It set the free hairs in Rarity’s mane dancing.

Rarity gave another sharp nod and tried to pull in a long breath. It was weak, and broke several times, but she managed to fill her chest with air before letting it out in a ragged rush.

“Good, good. You’re doing great.” Dash rubbed her hoof in a circle between Rarity’s shoulders. “Now, do it again. In…”

A few minutes of breathing exercises later, the shaking had stopped and Rarity’s eyes were open. She looked everywhere in the room except at Rainbow Dash.

That could slide for the moment. Dash ran her hoof down Rarity’s left shoulder and forearm, stopping just above the knee when her friend’s body tensed. She held that pose for a long moment, waiting for the shivers to subside, for Rarity’s breath to unhitch and her heart to calm.

“It was just a dream,” she whispered. “Your leg is fine. Look.”

Rarity’s head jerked. Left, right, left again. Her eyes squeezed shut, and the hoof holding her leg against her chest tightened its grip.

“It is. It is. See? There’s no blood. It’s fine.” Dash moved her hoof further down Rarity’s leg, pausing every few seconds to let her breathe. Finally, she reached that spot just above her knee, where—

She looked down to see a wide spur of bone slick with blood. Her entire lower leg dangled by a scrap of wet flesh.

—a thick bubbled scar bisected the coat on her own leg, and still ached when she least expected it.

Rarity’s leg was perfect and unblemished, just like the rest of her. Dash pressed her hoof down on the imagined wound.

“See? It’s fine.”

Slowly, a millimeter at a time, Rarity’s hoof fell away. She turned her her head down to regard her unharmed leg. For a long moment, utter silence filled the room – even their breathing ceased as Rarity tilted her leg before her eyes.

“See?”

Rarity rolled her hoof, like an athlete stretching before a race. Her lips parted, and her jaw hung loose as she gazed in wonder at her leg, miraculously whole. The shivers that set her coat trembling died away, and when she let out the breath long trapped in her lungs, her eyes closed, and a look of pure relief came over her face.

Dash reached out and pushed Rarity’s hoof down with a gentle pressure. “Feel better?”

Rarity didn’t answer for some time. Instead, in the silence, her leg twisted around Dash’s and drew it to her chest, where she cupped it between her hooves. She pressed her cheek against Dash’s leg, against the ugly scar, and let out a long sigh.

“I’d forgotten, I think,” she said. Her breath was a warm current against Dash’s coat. “How afraid we were, waiting for you in the hospital.The first few minutes after we arrived, we didn’t know if you’d even survive the night.”

Dash felt her throat tighten and threaten to close. She closed her eyes before they could betray her.

“They told us you’d make it, once we were all in the waiting room.” Rarity rubbed her cheek against Dash’s leg, just beneath the old break. Warm drops of some liquid spilled across her coat. “They said they’d managed to save your leg, and everypony was relieved. Everypony except me.”

More silence. Dash licked her lips. “Why not you?”

A quiet chuckle shook the bones in Dash’s leg. “Because I passed out.”

Oh. Dash swallowed again. “They never told me that.”

“I asked them not to.” Rarity turned her head a few degrees, enough to press her lips against the scar. “You had enough to worry about.”

“Yeah, but…” But what? She frowned at her inability to finish the thought. The soft feel of Rarity’s lips against her coat, just above her hoof, pulled her mind away from the question. How easy just to lie there with her friend, ignoring the dim glow of morning, until sleep claimed them both again.

And maybe something else, as well. Rarity would not protest, Dash knew, if she leaned in, and pressed her cheek against that soft white face, touched those lips with her tongue. The silly charade of the past few days would be over, and—

No.

Dash pulled her hoof away. The cool kiss of air against her coat replaced the feel of Rarity’s lips, like a ghost haunting her with its memory. Rarity looked up, a startled, hurt expression on her face.

“What did you do, Rarity?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, dear…”

“The dreams. That stuff on our muzzles.” She crossed her eyes to look down the bridge of her nose. The glow was gone, but her coat was speckled with dark spots as though still wet with droplets of the magical liquid. A quick glance at Rarity confirmed that her own face was similarly marked.

“Oh, that.” Rarity’s chin tilted fractionally up, and her eyes slid to the side. “It was just something Twilight showed me. We thought it might help you sleep better.”

“Sleep better?” The casual answer was like a slap to the face. “Rarity, warm milk helps you sleep better. It doesn’t mess with your dreams!”

“There’s no need to yell, dear. It’s still early, why don’t we just go back to bed, and talk about this in the morning?” Her hoof reached out as she spoke, reaching for Dash’s leg.

Dash stood and stepped away. “I saw you in there, Rarity. You were in there with me. You were in my head!”

“We shared some things, Dash, that’s all.” Rarity stood, wobbled for a moment as her left foreleg took her weight, and took a step toward Dash. Her voice quivered as she spoke. “Isn’t that what friends do?”

“Share? We… you…” Dash felt her wings begin to rise, and her whole frame trembled with fury. “We didn’t share! You stole those!”

“Dash, you’re going to wake Sweetie—”

“You saw me with Soarin! You watched us in bed!”

And on the clouds. And in the shower. The thoughts did nothing to calm her. Rarity had seen – had experienced – all those sacred bits of intimacy. Their first kiss, the endless lazy mornings spent wrapped in each other’s embrace. The most private memories, the only things she had left of her lover, stolen away in the night. The scope of Rarity’s theft was breathtaking.

“And you watched me, remember?” Rarity shot back, all pretense of calm deliberation gone. “You followed Wicker and me for an entire night. During dinner, back at the apartment, into my bedroom, onto my bed.” She leaned forward to whisper those last words into Dash’s ear. “Where were your objections then, hm?”

“Like I had a choice!” Dash’s wings lifted, and she hopped back onto the bed, away from Rarity. “I was trapped!”

“Yes, and I’m sorry. I didn’t… well, I didn’t know it would work like that.” Rarity sat next to the bed and set a leg upon it. Her hoof stopped just shy of Dash’s. “You know I would never intentionally hurt you. None of us would. We just… we just want to help you.”

Dash could believe that. It was easy to believe – of course Rarity meant to help. She couldn’t imagine any of their friends doing any less. And Rarity, the most generous of them, was always the first in line to help. Her intentions were pure.

But ponies are judged not by their intentions but their deeds. For a Wonder Bolt it could be nothing else. When death stalked them at every turn, when it flew every maneuver at their wingtips, a pony’s intentions counted for nothing. Only their skill and courage and strength mattered. A pegasus who relied on her friend’s intentions to save her would survive only as long as it took to hit the ground.

Rarity was still talking, Dash realized. She blinked away the images of streaking clouds and uprushing ground.

“...all been worried about you. You can’t tell me you’ve been eating enough, and you haven’t been flying. Flying, Dash! I would sooner expect Twilight to surrender her magic than...”

Rarity’s hoof was still just inches away. A slight twitch of her leg, and that gap would be bridged. She could already see the rest of the night proceeding from that single act: they would lie down together, and say all the things they had kept pent up, opening the terrible secret wounds that festered on each of their hearts. They would cry until the sun rose, then fall asleep again, resting against each other, lulled into peaceful surrender by the soft warmth of their bodies pressed together. And they would kiss. She could see that as well. With the secrets dwelling in their hearts erased, so too would vanish the flimsy barriers they had erected against each other in the night, and there would be nothing to stop her lips from brushing against Rarity’s cheek and neck and flanks, further and further, until all their body’s treasures lay exposed.

She could do it. It was there, waiting for her, just inches away from her hoof. She could be happy again.

Moving on, they called it. I could move on.

Rarity had stopped talking. Her eyes, wide and wet, stared up at Dash, then down at their hooves and the inches of space between them. Dash heard her breath catch in her lungs, and for a long moment everything was still. Everything waited.

Moving on. Dash closed her eyes. She felt the covers shift as Rarity leaned forward, reaching out to touch her…

Dash stepped away. Her hooves found the floor and took her straight to the bedroom door. Behind her, Rarity never moved as she exited through it into the dark hallway and the night beyond.

* * *

The cool air a thousand feet above Ponyville helped clear her head.

The city below was hard to recognize at night. As a young mare, before she left for the Wonder Bolts, only a few lights burned in the streets of Ponyville after the sunset. The town square, the hospital, a few other main roads. Darkness claimed all the rest. Once, only the faint shimmer of moonlight on the lake provided definition to the surrounding countryside.

Not anymore. Now the city blazed with light – each road sparkled with a dozen gas lamps, all chasing away the shadows of night. She could read the city like a map, and she spent the better part of an hour in a lazy orbit overhead. Too much had changed for her to pick out more than a few buildings.

You can’t go home again.

She snorted softly and shook her head to chase away the thought. The fierce winds slipped around her wings, and for a moment her steady course decayed, leaving her to tumble a hundred feet before a shift of her pinions caught the air. Her clumsy flying earned a quiet grumble, and she admitted that, maybe, it was time to land.

The sun was a fiery presence to the east, above the horizon but still hidden behind clouds glowing a brilliant red, when she reached the orchards of Sweet Apple Acres. Small figures moved around the barn and farmhouse as she approached. It didn’t take long to find the one she wanted, and her wings folded to bring her in for a soft landing in the branches of a mature apple tree.

Applejack must’ve heard her. She looked up at the tree, her green eyes darting around before settling on Dash’s form lounging on a branch above her head. A small smile appeared on her lips.

“Well, howdy stranger. Don’t tell me you get up this early every day now.”

Dash shrugged. “Depends if we have a show. Takes a lot of time to get ready, and no one wants to watch a sleepy pegasus.”

“Mhm.” Applejack unhitched her wagon from the yoke around her neck and began setting empty bushel baskets on the ground beneath the nearby trees. “So, what brings you out this way? Some breakfast, maybe?”

“Eh.” Some breakfast would be nice, but it could wait. “You know, just wanted to talk.”

“Talkin’. Lotta that goin’ on lately.” Applejack’s mumbled response floated up to Dash’s ears, and she wondered if she were meant to hear it. She shucked the yoke around her neck – a smaller version of the one Big Mac often wore – and set it inside the wagon. “Well, was about time to take a break anyway. What’s on your mind, sug?”

Dash’s eyes flicked over the empty baskets, then to the distant figures of other ponies milling about the barn, still draped in mist. “A break? Looks like you just started.”

Applejack brushed that aside with a wave of her hoof. “It’s my farm, I’ll take a break whenever I want. Now stop stallin’ and talk.”

Right, talk. Dash licked her lips and glanced back at the ponies in the distance. They seemed too far away to overhear and too busy to care. An impatient sound snagged her attention, and she looked down to see Applejack sitting against the tree, looking up at her with that open, honest face of hers. Its edge were a little sharper and more refined, now; a sculpture of a full-grown mare, not the adolescent on the cusp of adulthood Dash remembered from the first time she’d snagged a few apples from these trees for a snack.

Applejack had been angrier back then, Dash recalled. The wound of her parents’ loss was still fresh and weeping blood. “How dare you steal mah father’s apples!? Git out of that tree!”

Dash shook her head again, banishing the memory. Applejack raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

“Rarity did something stupid,” she said.

“Mm. You know I love that filly, but she does do silly things from time to time. What now?”

What had she done? Dash still wasn’t clear on all the details; she had only Rarity’s vague confession to go by. She let out a slow breath before continuing.

“She got a spell from Twilight. It let us share our dreams.”

Applejack was silent for a while. “Well, Dash, it kinda sounds like you’re both a bit to blame if that didn’t go well for—”

“She didn’t ask my permission to use it.”

Applejack’s mouth snapped shut with a quiet clack of teeth. The muted sounds of a farm at work filled the space between them.

Eventually, she spoke. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So you and her, uh…”

“Yeah.”

Applejack looked down and was silent for a while. Dash studied a drop of dew tracing a slow, wet trail down the face of an apple leaf. It reached the tip of the leaf and hung there, growing larger and heavier as it gathered more water into it, edging ever closer to the critical mass that would free it from the leaf and send it plummeting to the earth below.

“Well, I guess that was stupid,” Applejack said. There was a long pause before she spoke again. “These dreams, though… you’ve been havin’ problems with them, I guess?”

Dash’s eyes flicked down at Applejack, who was doing her best to look up without meeting her gaze. When Dash looked back at the leaf, the dewdrop was gone.

“Everypony has dreams, AJ.” She rolled over, letting the rough branch scratch that delicious spot between her wings. Above, the leaves presented her with a dappled, dark sky, just barely shining through with the light of morning.

“Not everypony has nightmares. Every night, from what I hear.”

Dash’s mouth twitched with the start of a frown. “You listening to rumors now, AJ?”

There was a brief pause before Applejack answered. Dash imagined her shrugging in that void. “I listen to my friends. Maybe Rarity does talk a mite too much, but that’s just who she is. It’s why we love her.”

“Yeah, well, so what if I am having n— bad dreams?” She rolled over and stood on the branch, her wings outstretched to balance her upon that thin perch. “They’re my dreams. How would you feel if someone snuck into your head?”

Applejack waited until the orchard stopped echoing back Dash’s shout before answering. Her voice was low, quiet enough that Dash had to lean forward to hear it. “I guess I’d feel upset. Like you feel now.”

“Upset?” Dash spit the word back at her. “What else would you feel, AJ?”

“Angry.”

Dash barked out a quick, humorless laugh. “Only at myself. I forgot who she was. Only four years away, and I forgot who she was and I let her get close to me. You know animals, AJ. What happens when you let a snake get too close to—”

“You sound hurt, too. But don’t let that lead you into saying something you’ll—”

“Hurt? Hurt?” Dash dropped off the branch and landed with a thud on the packed earth in front of Applejack. “What do you know about being hurt? When have you ever suffered, AJ? When have you ever lost somepony you cared about?”

Even as the words left her mouth, Dash realized her mistake. For a brief, irrational second she imagined reaching out with her hooves to grab that terrible question and stuff it back in her teeth before it crossed the distance to Applejack’s ears. But it was too late; she saw Applejack’s eyes widen by a hair.

Silence followed.

Dash licked her lips and opened her mouth, the apology already forming on her lips. Applejack beat her there.

“You done?”

Yeah, she was done. She gave Applejack a tiny nod.

“Right. I know you’re hurtin’,” Applejack pronounced the word slowly, carefully, “so I won’t blame you for sayin’ those things. You wanna know what I think?”

Another nod. She didn’t trust herself to speak yet.

“I think you feel betrayed,” Applejack continued. She paused to look over her shoulder, then stepped closer. “You let Rarity get close, and then she stomped all over your trust. I think that would hurt any of us, but you most of all.”

Silence again. Around them, the morning mist finally burned away at the first touch of the autumn sun, bringing color and life to the farm. A light breeze tousled their manes.

“Yeah, well…” Dash tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. “Yeah.”

She wasn’t sure what happened next. Only that Applejack moved, and then she was wrapped in a pair of rough legs that nevertheless felt as gentle as any cloud. She lowered her head to Applejack’s shoulder, closed her eyes, and cried.

* * *

Some time later, the tears were all gone. Dash lifted her head and tried to look away.

That was never an option, of course, Applejack’s hoof caught her chin and pulled it lightly around, until Dash had no choice but to meet those wide green eyes.

“It ain’t all lost, Dash. Not as long as you’ve got friends.” She gave her a gentle nudge with her foreleg. “Speakin’ of, I bet Fluttershy’d love to see you right now. C’mon.”

They left the bushels and wagon behind.

Reciprocity

The dawn came slowly for Rarity.

She had barely moved since Rainbow Dash’s parting words. Her arm, still outstretched, lay across the rumpled and torn bedspread. In her mind she saw Dash’s huddled form staring at her, ready to reach out and grasp her hoof like a drowning mare to be pulled from the waters. Her scent – sweat and feathers and the ozone tang of a thunderstorm – teased Rarity’s mind. If she closed her eyes she could pretend they were together, leaning against each other, legs intertwined, hot breath mingling between muzzles just a hair’s breadth apart. Two bodies with one shadow, taking courage from each other in defiance of the enormous, all-devouring night.

But she could not close her eyes. They were open and stared at the empty bed. Her heart murmured weakly in her breast, and a great hollow void filled her body, as if some uncaring god had scooped away her viscera and left only a pony’s shell. She did not cry, though some distant part of her mind insisted that she should. She felt, simply, nothing.

Time passed in this way, until the darkness outside her window surrendered to the grey light of dawn, and Rarity could no longer pretend that Dash was about to walk back in the door. Without realizing it, they had passed some critical threshold, before which existed friendship, beyond which only ashes and regret.

Dash was not coming back.

The grand effort was over.

She had failed.

No, you didn’t fail. You never had a chance.

At last, she wept.

* * *

Sweetie Belle was waiting for her when Rarity finally made it down the stairs.

There was no lavish breakfast underway this morning. The stove was cold and all the dishes were still in their shelves. The old wood table she had played on as a foal, a gift from her parents when she moved out of the house, was bare. Her sister, her mane and coat still rumpled, sat on a cushion in the dim unlit kitchen and watched in silence as Rarity approached.

Rarity paused at the sight, one hoof still held in the air. Nopony was supposed to see her like this, with a frazzled mane, coat matted with sweat, still stinking of fear, her eyes red, and with trails streaked by tears running down her muzzle. She should have stayed upstairs, collected herself, and used her brush and makeup and magic until nopony could see the cracks in her mask. They would only see the pony they expected, the perfect, flawless porcelain siren who stunned stallions and drew envious glances from mares. A mare who oozed glamour, whose breathed fashion, who reeked of high places and money and sex, yes sex, because no matter how much they might feign innocence, ponies – from Celestia and Luna on down to the filthiest back-alley tail-lifter – ponies were still animals, and those base urges drove them more than any charioteer’s cracking whip ever could. It would be so easy to turn back, to go upstairs and don the mask she had worn for years, the mask she now felt naked without.

“Rarity?” Sweetie asked. Her voice was quiet, in deference to the still morning. “Are you… is
everything alright?”

“Of course,” Rarity’s words came without thought. “I’m afraid I don’t sleep well in this weather, is all. Just a little too chilly, even with the covers, and I—“

“I heard you,” her sister interrupted. “I heard you both. Dash walked right past my door.”

Rarity’s mouth shut with an unladylike crack of teeth. For a long moment they stared at each other, until finally Sweetie looked away.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on you. But I heard yelling, and…”

Rarity let out a long breath. “No, don’t apologize. We, ah, we had an argument, and… well, you heard. She left. She just… left.” And with that, the false bravado fled from Rarity’s body. Her shoulders slumped, and she sat on the seat opposite from Sweetie Belle.

To top it all, her foreleg still hurt, just above the knee. The bone ached in time with her pulse, as it must have for Rainbow Dash, all through the funeral and the months beyond. She stared at it, mute, until her sister’s leg settled over her shoulders, and her warm weight leaned against her side.

“I’m sorry,” Sweetie whispered again, Rarity’s admonition notwithstanding. “Do you mind if I ask what happened? Things seemed to be going well.”

Rarity mulled over her thoughts before answering. “They were, but they weren’t. She was getting better, eating more, smiling, laughing… did you know she even flew the other day? She practically swore it off after the accident, but the other day she put on an airshow, just for me.”

Sweetie gave her a little squeeze. “Yeah, we all noticed. You should’ve seen Scootaloo after that day we played hoofball. She was so happy to have the old Dash back.”

Rarity nodded. “And she was back, during the day, at least. But at night… Sweetie, she’s still haunted. She has dreams about it.”

Cinders drifted on furnace winds. Rarity shivered and leaned against Sweetie’s side. She could still see the dream – she could still smell it.

Sweetie twisted her head to look Rarity in the eyes. “She talked to you about them?”

“She, ah…” Rarity swallowed. “Something like that, yes. She shared them with me.”

“Mhm. And all these nights you’ve been in bed together, did she share anything else with you?”

The old Rarity would have flushed at the suggestion. Now, after years in Fillydelphia and a dozen far more scandalous liaisons beneath her belt, it barely warranted a roll of her eyes. “Sweetie, please, we’re just friends.”

“Liar.” Sweetie jabbed her in the ribs with an elbow. “You think none of us have noticed? Spending all your time with one another, visiting town together, sleeping in the same bed, for Celestia’s sake… There’s something going on there.”

“Well, ah…” Rarity’s tongue failed her, and she trailed off in a weak mumble before propriety sailed to the rescue and mercifully sealed her lips. The awkward silence dragged on, and for an unusual moment, Rarity looked back at her life with an honest eye. Not her whole life, or even the past few years – it was too early in the morning for such brutal self-appraisal, but she remembered the moments with Dash in her arms, the kiss they exchanged, and the comfort she drew from the warm pegasus by her side all the dark night long. The giddy, girlish glee she felt from seeing Dash happy.

Sweetie gave her a little squeeze. “Well?”

“Well… maybe I’ve gotten a little… infatuated, perhaps. There’s just something about her, Sweetie, I can’t explain it. She a terribly crude pony, you know. Brash, vulgar, boastful. But if you suffer through all that, you get to see the pony beneath. She’s vulnerable, and thoughtful, and you know she would do anything for you. She would die for us, if for some terrible reason she had to. She would lay her life down for us and not even think twice. Perhaps that’s why the accident was so hard on her. She wishes she had died instead of him, and now every living moment is a reminder of that failure.”

Sweetie nodded silently through Rarity’s ramblings. “And how does she feel about you?”

“Now?” Rarity let out a long sigh. “Now, I think I’ll be lucky if she ever speaks to me again.”

“Oh… that bad?”

“Yes, that bad. Sweetie, listen to me. I don’t know how serious you are with that colt-friend of yours,” Sweetie’s sudden blush answered that question, “but never betray his trust. Please.”

Now it was Sweetie’s turn to be tongue-tied. “I, uh, we’re just, you know. Just friends.”

“Mm.” In another time, Rarity would have loved nothing more than to pry all the gossipy details out of Sweetie. That, after all, was what older sisters were for. But the phantom ache in her leg and the smoldering pain in her chest pushed away those the old sibling rules, and she was just a heartbroken mare leaning against her sister in the dim predawn light.

Heartbroken. Bet you never thought you’d feel like that again. Rarity winced, and Sweetie shifted against her.

“You okay?”

“Yes, just…” She let out a shaking breath. “I’m just… I need to go for a walk. If you’ll excuse me, dear.” With that she stood, brushed her lips across Sweetie’s cheek, and trotted out the door before her sister could protest.

* * *

The grass outside the Boutique was dusted with a thin layer of frost, turning the emerald blades a somber grey. They crunched beneath her hooves, and the light wind cut through her coat to steal away her warmth. She shivered and considered going back into the Boutique for a scarf or saddle, but going back would have meant confronting her sister again, and she was in no mood to face Sweetie’s loving concern.

She was better off alone.

Ponyville was still largely asleep, though a few of the houses showed signs of rousing. The trees alongside the road were filled with birds whose lively chatter banished the night’s silence. Drifting in from the distance was the hint of baking bread, and she knew if she followed her nose it would lead her to Sugarcube Corner, where already the Cakes and Pinkie Pie would have been up for hours preparing breakfast for half the town. Somewhere in the vast orchards to the south, she imagined Applejack already at work, knocking the last of the season’s apples from their boughs before winter’s bite could shrivel their skin and brown their flesh. Fluttershy would already be awake and tending to her varied charges, and Twilight… well, Twilight was still asleep, Rarity was fairly certain. That mare didn’t wake until well after dawn if she had any choice in the matter.

Much like Rainbow Dash, or at least the old Dash, the one who hadn’t yet joined the Wonder Bolts and adopted their regimented lifestyle, severe uniforms, silly rules and – yes – early wake-up calls. The old Dash who could reliably be found napping on a cloud at any hour of the day. Rarity could see it now: Dash’s graceful wings stretched out to catch the sun; her beautiful, spectral mane speckled with dew drawn from her cloud bed; her long, shapely legs, corded with muscles, twitching as she dreamed of holding somepony—

Rarity’s thoughts and forward motion came to an abrupt halt when her hoof caught on a raised cobblestone. If she’d been paying even a token amount of attention to where she was walking, she would have avoided it easily, but alas, she was not, and she stumbled onto her knees with a yelp. She scrambled up and quickly glanced around. Seeing nopony around to witness her humiliating little spill, she let out a sigh of relief and dusted herself off.

Silly, silly. She chided herself and pushed away thoughts of peaceful, dozing blue pegasi.

The sun finally broke above the trees to the east when she reached the town center. More ponies were about now, some early birds setting up stands to sell their wares, others just passing through on their way to work. Fillies and colts scampered toward the schoolhouse at the edge of town. Rarity watched them pass and tried to remember a time when she was filled with so much energy.

And innocence. Can’t forget that.

“No, we certainly can’t,” she whispered.

It would have looked odd to stand in the center of town all day, smelling of sweat like an earth pony, her mane askew, her makeup left back in the Boutique. It would have drawn questions, questions she had no good answers for.

And so she kept walking.

* * *

The sun was an hour into the sky when Rarity found herself back near the center of town. Ponyville had grown over the years, but it was still Ponyville, and it had a finite number of roads to wander. Not like Fillydelphia, where a pony could spend years walking the streets and never see the same storefront twice. That booming metropolis could have swallowed Ponyville whole and never noticed the difference.

Only an hour, and she had seen everything of Ponyville there was to see. For a moment, Rarity remembered why she left.

The moment might have drawn on much longer, but something warm and soft chose that exact instant to press against her neck. She yelped for the second time that morning and stumbled away, spinning toward her assailant.

Fluttershy stared back, her eyes wide with surprise. For a second they stared at each other, neither able to speak.

Rarity let out a breath. “Fluttershy, darling, you startled me there. When did you become so sneaky?”

“Oh, um, I wasn’t trying to be.” She sounded like her old, bashful self, before their friendship had broken her out of her shell. “I said your name several times.”

Had she? Rarity could have sworn she hadn’t, but Fluttershy wasn’t the kind of pony who made things up, or for that matter snuck up on people and nuzzled them, unlike, say, Pinkie Pie.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve not heard you,” Rarity said. In just a few words, she was back to the smooth, easy, convincing tones that made her such a perfect fit for Fillydelphia. Words that could soothe and connive, adding as much artifice to her mien as all the hours she spent primping in front of a mirror. “I’m afraid I didn’t sleep very well last night, is all. How are you?”

Fluttershy sat on her haunches and brushed her hoof against her belly. She wasn’t what Rarity would consider heavily pregnant, not yet, but she was getting there. “We’re fine. I’m not feeling nauseous in the morning any more. Mac’s very happy about that.”

“That’s only proper, I suppose.”

“Oh, actually, when I wasn’t feeling well, he would skip breakfast with me, and he really likes breakfast.”

Rarity could imagine. She also couldn’t help but smile at the simple act of devotion Fluttershy’s mate displayed.

Beautiful, isn’t it? That’s called love.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Rarity took a seat next to Fluttershy and leaned against her side. She wasn’t cold anymore, now that the sun was up, but for some reason the feel of soft, downy feathers against her ribs soothed her mind. “You’re not having trouble getting around?”

“Oh, no.” Fluttershy’s ears flapped in amusement. “I try not to fly if I can avoid it, but I’ll be walking between the farm and town until the day I foal.”

Rarity blinked and leaned back. “Er, are you sure that’s wise, dear? What if you, ah, you know…”

“If I go into labor while I’m out?” Fluttershy smiled and leaned forward to give Rarity another nuzzle. With her lips in Rarity’s mane, just behind her ear, she whispered, “Then I’ll walk back to the farm and give birth.”

“Oh.” That seemed rather rustic. But then, Fluttershy did live on a farm, now, so maybe it was appropriate. She could imagine Applejack doing the same thing, if Applejack somehow ever managed to get pregnant. But she could never imagine herself in Fluttershy’s condition and still hiking about. For that matter, she had trouble envisioning herself pregnant at all.

Her thoughts must have shown on her face. Fluttershy giggled and gave Rarity’s cheek a lick, a familiar, even intimate gesture, but certainly not one Rarity minded. She returned the lick, and they settled into a comfortable silence, both watching the Ponyville morning play out around them.

Time passed. In the silence that followed, the ill memories returned. Recollections, still fresh, of Dash’s stern visage and wounded pride as she left. One thought led to another, flowing backwards from that moment of abandonment, through the horror of waking up with a phantom, shattered leg and heart pierced with woe, all back through the dreams until she settled on the memory of Twilight’s enchanted gem and the fateful, foolish decision to crack it open and trespass into secret places uninvited. On that decision she mulled, worrying at it like a dog with a worn, cracked bone, neverminding the splinters it left in her mind.

She was staring at the ground, her muzzle wrinkled, neck and shoulders so tight that her whole body vibrated with tension, when Fluttershy whispered again in her ear: “I spoke with Rainbow Dash this morning.”

Suddenly, stillness. All thought and memory fled from Rarity’s mind, replaced a cold shock and slow, dawning horror that her mistake — no, her crime — was no secret. She began to tremble again, and felt naked in a way she never had before, not even on her back with legs spread for a stallion, exposed as petty and thoughtless. A careful sham of a pony with nothing to redeem herself, not even love.

Shameless. Whore.

“I… I ah…” Rarity paused and licked her lips. Her eyes darted around in a panic, searching for any anchor, anything to save her. “She, ahh…”

You what? She what? Just tell her the truth.

“You hurt her,” Fluttershy said, her voice still so low Rarity could barely hear it. “You look like you know that already.”

“I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to help.”

“Oh, I know that. I think Rainbow Dash knows that, even as angry as she is right now.” Fluttershy extended a wing to wrap around Rarity’s shoulders. “She knows you. She knows you’re a pony, and sometimes ponies make mistakes.”

“This… it wasn’t just a mistake.”

“But that’s what it sounds like, Rarity. A terrible mistake, maybe, but still one grounded in love and a desire to help.”

“A desire to help.” She spat the words and clenched her eyes shut. “That’s what I told myself, and it didn’t bother me because I was so certain I was going to fix her and everything would be alright, but I stole from her. I broke into her mind and hitchhiked on her dreams. Dear Celestia, I practically raped her.”

Silence. The wing around Rarity’s shoulders tightened almost painfully.

Like a switch being thrown, all the emotion drained from her, leaving her as empty as those desolate morning hours in the empty bed. In the absence of feeling, everything else was suddenly clear. “She must hate me,” Rarity whispered. “You must hate me.”

“Oh, no no no,” Fluttershy said. She pressed her forehead against Rarity’s shoulder. “Rarity, none of us could hate you. Yes, you hurt her, but sometimes the ones we love are the ones we hurt the most.”

“Please, don’t talk to me about love, Fluttershy. You have…” She sighed. “You have so much of it, and I have none.”

“Rarity, listen to me.” Fluttershy’s voice was urgent, firmer than Rarity could ever remember her using. “We’ve been friends for almost twenty years. I know you. You’re not a bad pony, and you’re surrounded by love. If there’s… if there’s something you’re not telling me, please, don’t be afraid. We can help you.”

Tell her. Talk to her, you fool.

And reap her scorn? No, she could not do that. She would have scoffed at the thought, if she could summon any emotion from the scraped-out, empty barrel of her heart. Instead she stood and carefully removed Fluttershy’s wing from around her back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s complicated.”

And then she ran, not very fast, but quicker than a pregnant mare could hope to catch.

* * *

She did not flee with any particular destination in mind. Anywhere was fine, as long as it was away from Fluttershy. Rarity could withstand many things — exhaustion, scorn, fear, even pain, though few but her closest friends understood the iron that hid just beneath her soft, polished exterior. She was driven, and the engine in her heart could not stop for such inconsequential things. Adversity fueled her, pushed her harder. Ambition and pride flowed through her like blood, and they were why her face was known across Fillydelphia, why her name was spoken in such reverent tones in high society, why she deserved all that she had. There were few things Rarity could not stand.

Pity, lurking in the eyes of a friend, was one. And so she ran from Fluttershy, until her friend’s cries were lost in the bustle of the town around them.

She stopped running, finally exhausted, near the center of the town. Ponies filled it now that the morning had truly arrived, and their bustle gave the square a feeling of action and purpose that wouldn’t have been out of place in Fillydelphia’s crowded streets. They jostled for space around stalls and formed small herds chatting with their neighbors, catching up on the day’s gossip and reaffirming, through touch and scent, the bonds of friendship. For a moment, it felt like home.

Rarity shook her head and banished that thought. Fillydelphia was home, now. Ponyville was just a place to visit.

Home changed while we were gone. Dash’s voice teased her ears like the wind, and she shook her head again. Up ahead, past the town hall, a garish glimmer stabbed at her eyeballs. She frowned and threaded her way through the crowd toward it.

The space immediately around Twilight's castle was, not surprisingly, uncrowded at this hour. Ponies who had business with the princess of friendship typically knew to arrive sometime after noon, when she was fully awake. She passed by the few stragglers making their way toward the crowded square and stood before the door.

A part of her wanted to barge in and just start screaming. Twilight’s description of dreamwalking had been woefully inadequate, and a part of Rarity — the part that could never accept blame, the part that always, desperately sought another pony whose actions were at fault — wanted to lay this all at her hooves. If Twilight had warned her, she might have been more careful. Why, if Twilight had known how dangerous dream walking could be, she never should have given the gem to Rarity in the first place.

Rarity entertained those thoughts for a moment, then swept them aside. There was only one pony at fault for this mess, and it wasn’t Twilight Sparkle. So resolved, she placed her hoof on the door and pushed her way into the Library.

Twilight was seated in the rotunda, almost as if she were expecting company. Her back was to the door, and she hunched over the wood table with that odd horse-head sculpture that some previous library-owner had purchased decades ago. Rarity was about to raise her voice in greeting when she noticed something odd.

Twilight’s entire body was trembling. The door slipped shut behind her, finally sealing off the bustle of the town, and in the silence that followed she could hear the faint sound of a crying mare.

Oh Celestia, how many of us have I hurt?

Rarity’s arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed. Twilight’s head rose from the table, and she took a long breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, starting to turn. “The library’s close—“ Her red-rimmed eyes settled on Rarity, and her mouth snapped shut, biting off the rest of her greeting.

Rarity swallowed. Her hasty plans to confess her errors withered on her tongue. Instead she stared, fumbling for something to say.

“Twilight.” She paused to lick her lips. “Did… did Dash come here?”

“Dash?” Twilight sounded the pegasus’s name slowly, as if hearing it for the first time. She stood, wobbled, and slowly started walking toward Rarity.

“Yes, you, ah…” Rarity tried to back away, stopping when her backside hit a bookshelf. “Twilight, you don’t look so well.”

Twilight stopped a few feet away. “I probably don’t, do I?” She sniffled loudly, and blinked her eyes rapidly, as though trying to banish her tears. “Do you want to know why, Rarity? No, don’t answer, I’m going to tell you anyway. You see, I was having a wonderful dream last night… funny, I don’t even remember what it was about. But anyway, I was having a wonderful dream. I was warm under my covers. I had my coltfriend’s legs wrapped around me. His breath kept tickling the back of my neck but I didn’t care, Rarity. It was one of those wonderful mornings that could have lasted forever.”

She paused, and an uncomfortable silence stretched out. Rarity waited, and waited, and was about to speak when Twilight suddenly resumed.

“That’s when she flew in.” Twilight slammed a hoof down on the floor with a loud crack. “Just like in the old days. She jumped on my bed, and we had a very difficult conversation, Rarity. One I would have given my left wing to have avoided. But it’s too late for that, so I’m just going to ask you straight out: is it true?”

Every instinct in Rarity’s body urged her to deny it. To say no and invent some plausible excuse for Rainbow’s behavior. It wouldn’t be hard – Twilight was a trusting pony, and Rarity was a master of deception. This didn’t have to happen.

You can lie with the best of them. Even to yourself.

She let out a long breath. “It… yes, Twilight. I’m not sure what she said, exactly, but it was the truth.”

Twilight flinched as if struck. She tottered back, and only just avoided falling onto her flanks. “Wha… Why? Why would you do something so… so… so stupid!”

“I just wanted to help her—“

“Help her? I’ve got news for you, Rarity. You didn’t! You were supposed to ask her first!”

“You didn’t explicitly mention that—“

“What?” Twilight stood and pointed a shaking hoof at Rarity. “Don’t make this about me! You knew, you knew you were supposed to ask her first! It was a dreamwalking spell! You don’t just invade somepony’s dreams!”

“Oh, come on,” Rarity snapped, finally low on contrition and out of patience. “This is Rainbow Dash we’re talking about. Do you think she would ever have agreed to that? She wouldn’t let us near her dreams with a ten-foot pole.”

“Well then maybe it wasn’t meant to happen!” Twilight paced across the foyer, her mane whipping to and fro as she shouted. “Or maybe she would have surprised us. But we’ll never know now, because you f… you fu… f-fucked things up!”

Rarity blinked, momentarily stunned. In nearly ten years of knowing Twilight, she had never heard the mare use any sort of vulgarity; until now, she wasn’t even sure Twilight could say such a word, so deeply had Celestia’s upbringing marked her.

Her shock must have shown on her face. Twilight paused and her ears folded back against her skull. “Sorry, it’s just… For Celestia’s sake, Rarity.” She slumped against a bookshelf, her eyes closed. “You could go to jail for this, you know. I could go to jail, just for giving you that damn spell. It’s like giving a knife to a foal.”

Any softening in Rarity’s feelings vanished at the comparison. “Mistakes I may make, Twilight, but I’ll thank you not to call me a foal.”

“Then stop acting like one! Did you even think before you snuck into her bed?”

“I didn’t sneak anywhere, thank you. We’ve been…” Rarity paused and gnawed at her lip, then plowed forward before her courage could fail. “We’ve been sharing a bed for days. Almost since we got back.”

That shut Twilight up. The librarian blinked, her mouth hanging open. After a moment she shook her head and rose to her hooves to step toward Rarity.

“You…” Twilight stopped and stared at her for a half-dozen heartbeats. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Another pause. “Are you, uh, you know…?” She tapped her front hooves together daintily.

So quaint. Part of her wanted to run over and pinch Twilight’s cheeks. Instead she let out a quiet sigh. “No, Twilight, we’re not, ah, intimate with each other. Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

“Not yet. Probably not ever, now.” Rarity pinched the bridge of her muzzle between her hooves. “Twilight, I messed up. I’m sorry that you’re a part of my error. I wish… I wish I could just rewind everything, and save us all this pain.”

Twilight looked away. Her throat bobbled, and several moments passed before she spoke. “Yeah, I’m sorry too.”

That seems to be going around.

Rarity closed her eyes and took several slow, deep breaths. When she opened them, Twilight was still looking away, not meeting her gaze.

Rarity could take a hint. “If you see her, tell Sweetie I went home.”

So saying, barely whispering, she left.

* * *

“One ticket to Fillydelphia, please.”

The cashier, a middle-aged stallion with a rust-colored coat, consulted a chart pinned on the side of the booth beside him. Flecks of silver had started to dust his muzzle, giving him a distinguished air that Rarity both simultaneously admired and envied. How unfair that age gave stallions character, but only wore away a mare’s youthful beauty. Such thoughts chased each other through her mind, until the cashier interrupted her.

“That’ll be fifteen bits.”

She floated a twenty-bit coin onto the counter and accepted the ticket chit in return. “Keep the change,” she mumbled, already turning away.

The platform was sparsely populated in the middle of the morning. Rarity had come straight from Twilight’s castle, pausing only long enough to withdraw enough coins from the Ponyville bank to finance her return trip. The rest of her belongings were still back in the Boutique, where they would sit until Sweetie either forwarded them to Fillydelphia or put them into storage. Either way, Rarity rued, she’d have some explaining to do in her next letter.

It was terribly rude of her to leave town without saying goodbye to her sister, of course, but she knew if she went back to the Boutique Sweetie would insist on talking to her, and a quick goodbye would turn into a drawn out lament, and before she would know it the sun would be setting, and Sweetie would ask her to spend one more night, and Rarity would, and by the time morning came her resolve would have worn away to nothing.

No, it was better this way. Festering wounds needed to be lanced, the quicker the better. And so, at five minutes past ten in the morning, she stepped on the express train from Ponyville to Fillydelphia and didn’t look back.

Once seated, she started to draw the blinds shut out of habit. She normally napped or read while travelling, and the speeding countryside outside the train window was conducive to neither. But her eye caught on a flash of color, just as the blinds were halfway drawn, and she paused there, gazing out at the town.

Even viewed through a tiny porthole, the town was beautiful. Smaller, simpler than Fillydelphia, but beautiful all the same. The rising autumn sun set aflame the crimson and gold trees whose leaves filled the air whenever the wind blew. Ponies, hundreds of them, all smiling and talking and filled with life, walked down the streets. Their heads did not hang, their shoulders did not slump with the weight of the world upon them. They seemed, in a word, happy.

Well, we can’t get everything we want out of life. Some ponies get to be happy; you get to fuck random stallions at will. It’s probably a wash.

Rarity snorted and let the blinds fall the rest of the way shut. She felt the train lurch, and the town outside sped away behind her, unseen.

It was better this way, really. She was not meant for Ponyville, and it definitely was not meant for her. She closed her eyes for just a moment, stifled a sob, and leaned back against the seat rest.

When she opened her eyes, the town was gone. In fact, even the countryside around Ponyville was gone. The train had already passed through the bucolic woods and pastures, and by the look of the small towns speeding by, they were already halfway to Fillydelphia.

More tired than I thought, I guess. She stifled a yawn and twisted her head, trying to relieve the kink in her neck that had formed while she dozed. Fortunately, there were no ponies around to witness her little nap, or heaven forbid the drool that sometimes leaked from the corner of her mouth whenever she somehow fell asleep sitting up. She gave her whole body a shake, and with a final glance out the window, drew the blinds fully shut.

Much better. She leaned back again, and was about to close her eyes when something struck the train above her with a loud clunk, like a tree branch falling onto her home’s roof. She blinked at the sudden sound, and turned her head to follow as a series of smaller echoes proceeded down the train’s spine to the end of her car.

She heard the door open, a rush of wind, and the door closing. The steps – that was the only thing they could be – returned, inside the train now, and a moment later Rainbow Dash’s head poked around her booth. Her mane was wild and tossed, presumably from the effort of catching a train, and her sides heaved in deep, measured breaths.

“Uh, hey,” she said. She ground her hoof into the carpet. “Do you mind if I, uh…” She glanced at the empty seat across from Rarity.

Rarity gawked, but her socialite’s honed manners quickly rode to the rescue. “Not at all, dear. Please.” She gestured at the empty seat with a hoof.

“Thanks.” Dash settled into the seat and spent a few seconds preening her wings. Loose feathers stuck out at odd angles, and she quickly hunted them down with her lips, pushing them back into their proper alignment. “Sorry. I, uh, I don’t have a ticket.”

“That’s quite alright, they only check them when you board this route.” She paused. “Dash, why are you here?”

“What, can’t I say hello to an old friend?”

Rarity raised an eyebrow.

“Er, bad choice of words. A friend I’ve known a while?”

“Better,” she mumbled. There was something different about Rainbow Dash. Her posture was more alert, her ears almost straining forward. In her eyes was something she hadn’t seen there in a long, long time.

Concern.

“What really brings you here, Rainbow Dash?”

Dash’s wings started to mantle, and she forced them back to her sides with an obvious effort. “Well, I wanted to apologize, first.”

Rarity snorted. “Don’t. Please don’t. I’m the one who should apologize. I had no right to intrude on your dreams like that. It was… it was stupid of me, Dash. I haven’t done anything so foolish or ignorant since I was a foal.” She closed her eyes and remembered the warm nights with Dash sleeping against her side. “I haven’t the words to tell you how much I regret it. I’m so sorry.”

When she opened her eyes, Dash’s head was turned to the side, her gaze locked on the drawn window blinds, as if she could see the speeding countryside beyond them. Her breathing had slowed now; Rarity could barely see the pegasus’s chest move.

“I spoke with the girls,” Dash said, so quietly Rarity had to lean forward to hear. “I’ve had my eyes closed for a long time now, and they helped me open them. They made me realize how much you’ve helped me.”

“Dash, I—“

“No, let me finish. I was in a real bad spot when you found me, Rarity. It’s only been a week since then, but it feels like a lifetime. I feel like a different pony. Like I haven’t been since… since before.” There was a hitch in her voice for those final words, as though she still couldn’t quite get past them. “I didn’t realize until this morning how much that was because of you.”

“Any of us would have,” Rarity said, but it was weak. She felt her face heating at Dash’s words.

“Yeah, but you did. Not them, you. It means a lot. A lot.”

Rarity glanced back to see Dash staring at her. The gulf between their seats, though barely wider than a pony’s outstretched hoof, suddenly felt like an ocean. She yearned to reach across it.

“I spoke with Twilight,” Dash continued. “Rarity, do you trust me?”

With my life. “Yes,” she breathed.

“Okay.” Dash let out a little breath and nodded her head. “Okay.” She craned her neck around and reached into her mane with her mouth. She turned back, and set a small blue object on the cushion beside her.

It was an ocean sapphire. Rarity stared at it, her eyes wide, her mind shocked into numbness at its implications.

“Like I said, I spoke with Twilight. Rarity, do you really trust me?”

Oh Celestia, not that. Anything but that. She had seen Dash’s secrets, but they were nothing so bad. Intimate, of course, as sex always was, but nothing to be ashamed of. Dash had seen much the same with her. But to reverse their roles, and let Dash dive into her psyche, into her shame… She shivered, unable to take her eyes from the gem.

Maybe you are such a disgusting whore, such a filthy slut, that no one could see the real you and still love you. But if there were one pony who could, one pony loyal enough to stick by her friend, to still love her despite her flaws, who do you think that would be?

Rarity looked up from the gem. Dash was staring at her, waiting for an answer.

She swallowed.

“Yes, I do.”

The Gift of the Magi, part 1

Such a strange thing, a little thing, to be afraid of.

Rainbow Dash stared at the ocean sapphire with unblinking eyes. Her body was relaxed, stretched out on the bed and seemingly ready for sleep, but a deep current of unease flowed through her gut every time she touched or saw or even thought about the gem, and now here it was, lying between them. Waiting for them.

“How does it work, again?” she mumbled.

Rarity let out a quiet breath. Her eyes were also fixed on the stone, and neither of them had spoken in several minutes. “I’ve only used one once, dear, but it was simple enough. Just squeeze it until it cracks, and a bit of fluid will leak out. Dribble it on my forehead, dribble it on yours, and then you merely fall asleep.”

“Huh.” Dash glanced away from the gem toward Rarity. Her face was unreadable in the dim bedroom, lit only by the faint wash of moonlight spilling in from the window and the luminous glow radiating from the gem. It turned Rarity’s dove-white coat a spectral bluish hue that shifted slowly, like the aurora Dash sometimes saw dancing high above in the winter sky. It seemed almost alive.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Dash?” Rarity’s eyes didn’t leave the gem as she spoke. “I don’t know what Twilight told you about it, but… I don’t think dreams are as harmless as she thinks.”

“My dreams are the dangerous ones, Rares. I think I can handle fashion and Fillydelphia.”

Rarity’s eyes flicked toward Dash’s, and just as quickly they darted back to the gem. She said nothing.

Not the best choice of words, perhaps. Dash swallowed silently and plowed ahead. “So, we just fall asleep? I’m not really that tired.”

“I don’t think it matters how long you wait, as long as it’s before the sunrise. I waited several hours after you fell asleep before using it.”

“Oh.” Dash fidgeted with her hooves for a moment. “So, should we go ahead and use it?”

“Dash…” Rarity let out a longer breath this time and set her head on her folded legs, turned away to face the dark corners of the room. “I know I said you could do this, and I still mean that. And my dreams may be tame compared with yours. But that does not mean they cannot hurt you. That they can’t hurt us.”

“I’ll take that chance.”

“You say that, but you haven’t seen them yet. You haven’t seen the real me, Dash, just this mask I always wear. And believe me, the mask is far, far more pleasant than the reality.”

“I dunno. The reality is pretty pleasant.” She ran her hoof through Rarity’s mane and brushed it along her neck, down between her shoulders, finally letting it rest on her hip.

Rarity shivered. “Flatterer.”

“Since when has that been a problem for you?”

“Touche.” She rolled toward Dash, ending on her back with their sides pressed together. She stared up the darkened ceiling as she spoke. “Dash, I—“

“Rarity, you did this because you wanted to help me, right?” She reached out with a hoof to touch the ocean sapphire. Its light pulsed at the contact, banishing the night’s shadows for a heartbeat. “I don’t know if it did or not, but you saw a deeper part of me than anypony ever has, even Soarin. You saw the nightmares that fly after me. I want to do the same.”

“I don’t have any nightmares.”

“Liar.”

Rarity was silent after that. Her head rolled to the side, and her eyes drifted to the ocean sapphire. “And how will you feel tomorrow morning?”

“I… well, I don’t know.” Dash pressed her muzzle against the side of Rarity’s neck and inhaled deeply. Lilac and fresh-spun cotton. “But I’ll still love you.”

Silence again. Rarity’s throat bobbed, and she gave Dash a jerky nod.

Okay, then. Dash’s lips were suddenly dry, and she licked them with an equally dry tongue. Steeling herself, she lowered her head to the sheets and grasped the ocean sapphire in her teeth. A tingling sensation, like biting down on a live wire or flying through a thunderstorm, filled her mouth.

Squeeze it until it cracks. Part of her mind rebelled against the idea of biting down on a gemstone – she was not Spike, after all – but she slowly clenched her jaw until a quiet crack echoed through the room. They both flinched at the sound, but there was no pain and she didn’t taste blood, so it probably wasn’t one of her teeth breaking. Immediately, the faint scent of junipers flooded her muzzle, and the electric tingle on her tongue doubled.

She leaned over Rarity’s prone form and let the magic drops drizzle onto her forehead. Rarity didn’t even blink as they speckled her face and muzzle, despite a few drops of what Dash was pretty sure was saliva mixed in there as well. She mumbled a weak apology around the gemstone.

And then it was her turn. She spit the gem onto her hoof and rolled it between her eyes, across her forehead and down her muzzle to her nose. She didn’t seem to get quite as much of the liquid as Rarity, but the scent of junipers was there all the same.

She set the cracked, black gem on the sheets. No more light spilled out from its heart. “Do you think that’s enough?” she whispered.

Rarity didn’t answer, not out loud. Instead she leaned over and pressed her face against Dash’s. The droplets splattered there mingled, and a hot, wet tongue drew across Dash’s lips and up along her cheek.

“Yes,” Rarity whispered back. “Now, we go to sleep.” So saying, she nestled her cheek against Dash’s shoulder and closed her eyes. Her breathing stretched out and out, until only the slow rise and fall of her chest broke the stillness of the night.

Right, just go to sleep. Dash touched a hoof to her lips, making sure they were real, that she had not imagined all this. She gulped and set her head down, just inches away from Rarity’s, and let her eyes close. Thoughts raced through her mind: Rarity’s tongue, the scent of junipers, the warm weight against her side, Soarin’s laugh, the twisted scar and phantom pain in her left leg, cinders blowing on a hot wind, and love, and loss, and love and loss all chasing each other across her brain, spiraling around like a whirlpool, slowly sinking toward the center, toward the hollow maw of night that swallowed her thoughts, leaving only ghosts and darkness in its wake.

* * *

Dash woke in a fog.

Literally, a fog. She could not see through the mists around her, so thick were they. The air was hot and muggy as a swamp, and within seconds her coat dripped with water. She fanned her wings to keep them from becoming sodden as well, but only managed to stir eddies of the mist.

Fair enough. She was a weather pony, after all. Her stance shifted along with her focus, and the mists slowly began to clear. Puddles of warm water grew around her hooves as the fog condensed, revealing the room around her.

It was the spa, or rather, a spa. It was far too large to be the one from Ponyville – the tiled floor extended for dozens of paces before reaching marble walls that rose far above her head. Clouds blocked her sight of the ceiling. Before her, a row of recessed pools, each larger than her entire bedroom, filled the air with tendrils of steam. The burble of flowing water, like a gentle waterfall, echoed throughout the chamber as some hidden mechanism kept the pools fresh.

“Well, hello darling,” a voice sounded from behind her. It was smooth and cultured and carried the hint of a noble accent. “I was wondering when you were going to show up.”

“Hey, Rares,” Dash said, starting to turn. “Where is this…” She trailed off, her mouth hanging open at the sight before her.

Rarity was in one of the pools, but it was not filled with water, nor was she quite the pony Dash remembered. Only her head and shoulders were visible above the mud bath, but her features were longer, more refined. Her muzzle was slender like the princesses’, and her horn tapered to a long, sharp point. Dash knew that, were Rarity to stand from the pool, she would be the much taller of the two.

“You, uh… you look different.”

“I do, I suppose.” Rarity lifted a leg and held it before her, watching as the mud slowly dripped from it back into the pool. The limb was longer and more slender than Dash recalled. “This is an ideal. A more beautiful, elegant me, one that exists only in my… well, in my dreams. Thus, this.” She waved her leg at their surroundings.

“You’re already beautiful.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on the not-Rarity’s lips. “Flatterer.”

Dash smiled too. “Not a problem, remember?” She paused and glanced around. “So, where are we?”

“Like I said, a dream.” Rarity tilted her head toward a steaming pool of water just beside her. “Won’t you join me?”

Dash started to defer, but before her mouth even opened to speak, her surroundings shifted. Darkness swallowed her for the blink of an eye, and when she was whole again, she was submerged up to her neck in the waters.

Interesting.

Rarity smiled at her from the next pool over. Definitely taller. For a moment Dash felt like a foal again, until she remembered why they were there.

“Rarity, where uh, where are we?”

“We’re sleeping on a bed in Sweetie Belle’s house in Ponyville, of course. Or perhaps we’re in a spa, trying to relax. Or we’re in some imaginary, magical fabrication, a living dream, and none of this is real.” Rarity paused to take a sip from a flute of wine that hadn’t been there a second ago. “Depends on your perspective, I suppose.”

“It wasn’t like this last time.”

Rarity shrugged. The mud pool around her squelched unpleasantly. “Dreams are fluid things, Dash. They’re almost never the same twice.”

“Mine are,” Dash whispered.

Rarity held her tongue for several long seconds after that. “Your situation is different,” she said at last.

“Or maybe not so different.”

“Mm.” Rarity took a final swallow from the wine flute. She leaned over the edge of the pool and crossed her forelegs on the tiles, smearing them with mud. “That’s your fundamental mistake, darling, thinking that you two are alike. You are a good pony, one of the best in the world in fact. Loyal, loving, brave. You are nothing like that slut sharing your bed.”

What. What. Dash blinked at Rarity, stunned into silence. She could not believe – could not comprehend – what she had just heard. “Wh… what?”

“You heard me. That whore sleeping next to you. Rainbow Dash, if you knew the slightest bit of what she did in Fillydelphia, you wouldn’t be so quick to kiss her.” The false Rarity – and she had to be false, this could not be real – turned her face to the ceiling and chuckled. It was a bitter, cruel sound, one that never should have emerged from such a beautiful throat. “She is filthy, Dash. A sewer. Nothing worthy of you.”

“You… you’re lying!” Dash tried to rise from the pool, but the bottom seemed endlessly deep, leaving her nothing to stand on. She flailed and grabbed at the side; the slick tiles offered her hooves no purchase, and it was all she could do not to sink beneath the steaming water. “What is this? What are you?!”

“I? I am the only honest part of Rarity that’s left.” The thing stretched its long, elegant neck. Under other circumstances, Dash would have wept at the sight and begged to kiss its alabaster perfection. “The Rarity you know? That’s the lie, Dash.”

“No! You’re some kind of monster, stuck in her mind.” Dash panted for breath and tried again to rise from the pool. Nothing she did seemed to make a difference. “Well, I know about you now! I can beat you! Our friends can beat you!”

Rarity rose partway from the pool. The mud clinging to her perfect body seemed darker against her gleaming coat, almost black. “Ah, and that is why you are such a good pony, Dash. You are loyal and you care about your friends. You are also a fool.”

“Fuck you!”

Rarity smirked. The expression was a perfect fit for her perfect, cruel face. “Loyal, caring, and a bit vulgar too. Tell me, Dash, what is my special talent?”

The sudden change in topic jolted her, and for a moment Dash forgot the angry heat building in her chest. “It’s, uh… like, something about gems, right? You can find them?”

“That’s an ability, yes, and a helpful one. But what makes me special, Dash? What am I so famous for?”

Being a drama queen? That didn’t seem like quite the right thing to say, though, so Dash hazarded a second guess. “Fashion?”

“Very good!” Rarity smiled, and her face shone with beauty again. “Fashion, but more fundamentally, Dash, deceit. Lying. Disguises. The Rarity you know is nothing more than a carefully crafted layer of masks, one on top of the other. The one she wears in private, sharing your bed, it may seem like she’s letting her guard down with you, but it’s just another mask. She wears dozens, and the deepest one of all is to fool herself. To make believe that she’s still a good pony, just like you and the girls.”

“That’s not true! She’s kind, and smarter than any of us except Twilight, and she’s the most generous pony who ever lived. She would give up anything for us!”

“Oh, that’s a lie, I’m afraid.” The dream-Rarity braced her forelegs on the tile rim of the pool and pushed herself up. She towered above Dash. “There is one thing she hoards, that she will never share. That she can never share. And if you persist in this foolish lying with her, she will hurt you. She cannot help it.”

Dash stared up at her, mute. Her lips moved, but she could not form the words. Rarity stared down at her in silence. The mud coating her seemed thicker, somehow. Darker, like liquid night, and it shone like polished obsidian.

“I don’t understand,” Dash finally said. Her voice was soft and weak as a foal’s.

Rarity glanced away. “I know, but it’s too late now. You should not have used that gem. Now we are both trapped here, and this will end the only way it can.”

She stepped toward Dash, and for the first time Dash noticed the air around her shimmering, like above a candle’s flame. An odd, acrid stench filled her nostrils as Rarity drew closer, searing her lungs and stinging her eyes. She tried to scoot away, but only managed to back herself into the pool’s corner.

Rarity set a hoof beside Dash, and the water around it instantly began to boil. The black, slimy mud – no, not mud, something else entirely – dripped from her body, forming little coins that floated on the water’s surface and immediately set it to steaming. An intense, choking heat poured from her, like she was a living furnace.

“Have you never heard the saying, darling?” Rarity sank the rest of the way into the water, and curtain of steam erupted around her. Dash felt more than saw Rarity’s legs, still coated in that vile black slime, reach out and grasp her in a burning embrace. The blue hairs of her coat began to char. Her feathers wilted and blackened and started to burn. Her grip was impossibly strong, and none of Dash’s frantic thrashing, even as she began to cook, could free her from it.

Rarity pressed her lips against Dash’s ear and whispered, “One cannot touch pitch without becoming defiled."

Rainbow Dash started to scream. And then she woke up.

But not really.

* * *

"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"

Rainbow Dash couldn't help the tiny smile that appeared on her lips. She was used to compliments – especially about her looks – but that didn't make them any less cherished. Her ear flicked, as though chasing away a fly, and she took a sip of wine from her glass before answering.

"Yes, in fact, you did." Another sip. "By all means, continue."

"Well, where to start?" The pegasus opposite the restaurant's small booth placed his forelegs on the tablecloth and leaned forward, eyeing her up and down in a manner that would have been untoward in other circumstances. "Your mane, I suppose. I know you don't spend hours in front of the mirror, brushing it endlessly, but that's certainly how it looks. It sparkles with gold highlights from these candles, and no princess ever wore a garment so rich and deeply indigo, like the border of a rainbow."

"Mm." Dash liked where this was heading. "Go on."

"More? Very well. Your coat is flawless, white as clouds in the noontime sun. Your legs, oh Dash, I could spend hours praising them, slender and shapely and strong." He leaned forward again, so close that their noses nearly touched, and trapped her gaze with his own. "But it's your eyes that I love the most, I think. They're like... they're like sapphires, deep as the ocean. I could spend a lifetime staring into them, lost in them, drowning in them. Just like this."

At last, she blushed. "Flatterer." Before he could retort, she darted forward to place a chaste kiss on his lips. At least, it started out chaste; by the time it was done, their tips of their tongues were wet with each other's saliva, and Dash could hear the couples around them tittering in amusement. She ignored them and kept her eyes on her date.

Cedar Breeze's eyes were closed as he leaned back into his seat. He was smiling, but that was hardly unusual – he always seemed to smile when they were together, and it was infectious. Rarely did more than five minutes pass in his company before Dash was smiling as well, the worries and stresses of running her Boutique forgotten.

"And that's very florid, even for you," she continued. "Did you practice while I was getting dressed?"

"All day, actually. Not much else to do when I'm staring at the wall all shift."

"Mm, I thought it sounded a bit rehearsed. I liked the part about my eyes, though. You should do that more often."

"What, practice? Or compliment your eyes?"

She made a show of considering her answer. "Both."

"Why stop at your eyes?" He reached across the table and set his hoof atop hers. Holding it gently, he leaned forward to whisper. "May I praise your flanks as well? Firm and smooth and perfectly shaped?"

Dash blushed. "Cedar, ponies will hear you!" she hissed, but she couldn't help the traitorous smile on her lips.

"Or what about your tongue?" he continued, still quietly, just for her. "It's... well, I can't really think of any way to compliment it, but I love what it does."

"Now you're being silly. Vulgar, even." She floated the wine glass back to her lips for another sip. "Don't stop."

"Very well." He pressed his cheek against hers, and whispered into her ear. "I love your skin, the way it tastes when I nibble it. I love your scent, especially when you skip those flowery perfumes. I love how taut your belly is, and how hard your nipples get when—"

"Cedar!" She shoved him away, laughing. It was the loudest sound in the restaurant, and momentarily drew every eye their way.

She didn't care. The fit of giggles took a minute to pass, and she helped herself to another sip of wine. Cedar grinned and did the same.

Always such a delight to be around. Dash heard Rarity's voice in her mind. She glanced around, distracted, searching for its source, but when nothing followed she turned back to Cedar. If he noticed anything amiss, it didn't show on his face.

"You're incorrigible, you know?" she said. "Are all pegasi like this?"

"Just the handsome ones." He took a moment to fluff his wings. They were a dark blonde color, as of his namesake, and contrasted pleasantly with his dusty green mane and tail. Both were cut short – 'in regs,' as he often said.

"You know, mother always told me there were humble stallions in the world. Someday I hope to meet one."

"It's a big world, anything could happen." He seemed about to say more, but at that moment their waitress arrived, a small notepad floating in the air beside her. He quickly snatched up his menu and pawed through it. "Uh, you go first."

Stallions. She shook her head and gave the menu a quick look, more out of habit than any need to read it; she'd known what she was ordering even before she made the reservation that afternoon. "I'll have the eggplant parmesan, please, with the basil and daffodil couscous. Light on the basil."

The waitress jotted her order down. "And for the gentlestallion?"

"Uh..." Cedar flipped through the menu again, eventually ending back on the first page. "I'll have the house salad."

"The salad?" Dash asked. "Come now, darling, we're having dinner at a nice restaurant. You can do better than a house salad."

"Yeah, but..." He glanced down at the menu, and for a moment a light rose blush tinted his cheeks. "You know."

"And I told you, don't worry about that. I don't mind."

The blush remained, even as he nodded. "Okay, I'll have the, uh, the lentil-stuffed peppers, with a cup of the Prench onion soup."

"Excellent choices. We'll have those right out." The waitress snapped her notebook shut, collected their menus, and vanished toward the kitchen, leaving the couple in silence.

The silence extended.

It became uncomfortable.

Finally, it was too much. They both started to speak, running over each others words, and just as quickly they both shut up.

Cedar shifted his wings. "You first."

"Fine, sorry." Dash let out a quiet breath. "I told you, you don't have to be embarrassed. I wouldn't have made a reservation here if I didn't want you to have a nice meal."

"I'm not embarrassed." He fidgeted under her gaze. "Okay, maybe I am. A little. But this food costs more than I make in an entire day."

"So? You're not paying for it."

"That doesn't help."

"Well, I'm sorry." She set the wine glass down on the table a bit more firmly than necessary. "I'm sorry for wanting a fine meal at a fine restaurant with some fine company. I can buy the first two, but it seems the last is slipping from my grasp."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." He ruffled his wings in aggravation. "Look, let's just talk about something else."

"Fine." She paused. "Have you put in your application yet?"

His posture shifted. Not many ponies would have noticed, but she was something of an expert at body language. "No."

"I thought the deadline was coming up this week?"

"Yeah, it is." He let out a long, slow breath. "I don't think I'm going to go for it."

Easy. Easy. Dash took her time before answering. "I think you're ready for it, darling. You'll be accepted."

"I know, the captain said I had the record for it. I just... I'm not sure I want to be an officer."

"So, you just want to be a guard forever?"

He sat up straighter. "It's an honorable profession. Plenty of ponies serve the princesses for their entire lives, just that way."

"Yes, but you could get a title! Being an officer is almost like being a noble. Haven't you ever dreamed about that?"

wait dream what did i dream why am i

"I dreamed about joining the Guard. I did. How many ponies can say they've achieved their dreams?"

"Officers can afford nice meals," she countered.

"Enlisted ponies get free meals."

"Yes, but you wouldn't have to be embarrassed when I pay for you." She sighed. "Please, just think about it before it's too late."

He nodded. "No promises, though."

She waved a hoof. "None needed. Now, please, let's talk about something else."

"Fine, fine." He waited until she was taking a sip from her wine before continuing. "We could talk about your nipples again."

She choked, and then there was wine everywhere. "Cedar!" she hissed, already trying and failing to hold in a scandalized laugh. The chatter around them momentarily quieted as the other patrons paused to see what the excitement was.

"What?" He held an expression of perfect innocence on his face. "You wanted a new subject."

"You're hopeless, you know that?" With some effort she managed to banish her smile, and daintily mopped up the spray of wine with her napkin. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Oh, I could think of a few things." He looked like he was about to name some of those things, other ponies be damned, but just then a waitress arrived with their meals on a tray, and embarrassed or not he tucked into his dish like pegasi always did – with complete abandon, as though their life depended on inhaling their food as rapidly as possible.

She shook her head, smiled, and took a dainty bite from her eggplant. Delicious.

The rest of the evening passed like a dream. She remembered paying for their food, and pretending not to notice the humiliation evident on Cedar's face. She remembered walking out into the street, just a little tipsy from the wine, and using it as an excuse to lean against Cedar's side. She remembered how lithe and full of energy he felt, and how he used his wing to shield her from a light evening rainshower that sprinkled the cobblestones with dark spots and washed away the ever present scent of soot in the air, leaving the whole town smelling fresh and clean.

She remembered reaching her studio, and the kiss they stole beneath her porchlight. She remembered opening the door, and both of them heading straight for her bedroom – they had done this enough times to skip the theater of the couch and offered drinks.

And then they were on her bed, lying side by side. Dash nibbled at his ear, and then leaned her head away, exposing the length of her neck to his lips. He kissed a wet trail down her jaw to her shoulder, and pushed his muzzle into her mane to take a deep breath.

Dash giggled. "What are you doing?"

He let out a long, deep sigh, the heat of his breath sending shivers down her back. "Getting drunk on your scent."

"Ah, very good." She turned her head back to catch his mouth, and they settled into a long lingering kiss. It began simply enough, with just their lips pressed against each other, suckling on one another, but soon she felt the tip of his tongue, and she met it with her own. Probing, teasing, wrestling with each other.

Dash could have kissed him for hours. On other days, lazy days when the shop was closed and Cedar was off duty, they would sometimes lay next to each other all afternoon, doing nothing but kiss, and doze, and wake to kiss again. It was one of her favorite ways to pass the time.

But tonight was heading down a different path, one she enjoyed just as much. Even as they kissed, she felt Cedar's tail flicking against her flanks. She smiled around their kiss and flicked back with her tail, the end result being two tails gently tangled in each other, tugging each other in time to their kisses.

Dash wasn't sure how it felt for stallions, but for mares, having one's tail tugged was either extremely unpleasant or rather enjoyable, depending on the circumstances. Right now, lying in bed with her lover, her tongue hot and slick alongside his, it felt delightful, and already the warmth in her chest was slowly migrating down her belly to settle between her legs. She moaned into him and rolled away, ending up on her side.

He followed, gently wrapping his foreleg around her shoulder to cradle her head. One of his rear legs pressed against her thighs, and she parted them just enough for their legs to intertwine. All the while, their long, single kiss continued unbroken.

And then his lips were gone, and she let out a quiet whine. He mumbled something soft in her ear, and then his lips were back, pressing against her neck and chest and down her belly. She cooed in delight, and gasped when his teeth plucked at her coat. The little stings they left stoked the fire in her chest, and she pushed his head lower, toward her parted legs.

He stopped just shy of her groin, and she felt the rough stubble of his chin rub against one of her nipples. It was a harsh sensation, just shy of pain, and she gasped in a tiny breath before letting it out in a long, helpless shudder as his tongue gently laved over the stiffening point. His teeth closed on it gently, holding it in place while the tip of his tongue flicked across it. She moaned again, her back arching away from the mattress.

After a few minutes of this delicious torture he switched to her other nipple, and the hard rim of his hoof brushed the back of her thighs. She held her breath, waiting, and soon enough he traced the outline of her lips with his gentle touch. Her heart beat so hard her chest shook, and she whined again, desperate this time.

Hours later they reclined in each others legs, sweaty and sticky and exhausted. She would feel filthy in the morning, she knew, but at that particular moment she felt not soiled but rather satisfied, the way she imagined Applejack did when she was lathered with sweat and dust after a long, hard day of work. Wearing the marks and stains on her body with pride, for they proved that she was a mare to be desired. That she could arouse her stallion and consume his lusts, in ways both literal and figurative.

Cedar mumbled something into her chest. She flicked an ear toward him, but already his eyes were closed, and his barrel rose and fell in slow, even waves.

This was a life worth living. She could laugh with him during their days and share her body with him at night. It wasn't even a bother to pay for their meals together – now that the Boutique was a going concern, bits weren't as much of an issue. They could be happy together.

Element of Generosity, successful business pony and fashion magnate, mated to a lowly guard who spent his days standing at attention in the palace, staring at the walls all shift, waiting for a war that would never come. A stallion who wanted nothing more than to serve, and be satisfied with his humble station.

He was such a gentle soul, kind and loving. Rarity’s voice sounded in her mind. I think I might have been happy with him. How would things have ended, then?

Three days later, she broke up with him.

* * *

"So, this is home, huh?" Cloud Fire stuck his head out the port window as their train pulled into Ponyville station. It was a bright, cloudless June morning, and already the town was abuzz with ponies preparing for the show. "Bigger than I expected."

"Yeah, it's grown a bit since I left." Dash tried to peer past Cloudy's shoulder to see the town, but the window was too small for two ponies. She butted his shoulder with her forehead, and when that didn't work she grabbed his mane with her teeth and yanked him back into the carriage. "Stop hogging the view, sheesh."

"Oh come on, you've seen this town a thousand times." He flicked his tail at her flank with just enough zip to make her jump, and then settled back onto his seat before she could retaliate. "Besides, you've seen one small town, you've seen 'em all."

"Most towns, maybe, but not Ponyville. Ponyville... well, Ponyville's just different." Dash stretched her neck, trying to see the frosted gables of Sugarcube Corner, or the slim banners flying above the Carousel Boutique. Both were still hidden in the colorful chaos of Ponyville, now larger than she remembered, but in the distance, above the garish roofs and steepled buildings, she could see the bright sparks of Twilight's castle shining through the haze. The sight brought a smile to her face, and for a moment her wings ached to stretch and launch her from the slowing train, ceremony be damned, and fly to find her friends.

But no, that was the old, immature Dash thinking. The New Dash, the Wonder Bolt, was disciplined. Temptation was nothing to her; she could sit for hours, if that's what it took, without twitching a muscle. She would be professional, and greet the townsponies who had come to meet the train, and not look twice for her friends until the welcome ceremony was done.

She kept telling herself that, and her wings kept fluttering at her side. She sighed quietly and slumped back into the carriage and onto her seat.

Cloud Fire raised an eyebrow. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just... you know. I haven't seen them since I left."

"So? They'll be there."

"What if they're not? What if they're busy and, you know... this just wasn't important enough?"

He quirked a smile at her. "Well, then I'll be here."

Heh, true enough. She glanced down at the shaking, squealing floor as the train's wheels slowed to a stop. The entire carriage lurched, and finally they were still.

"Yeah, you will be." She smiled at him. "Thanks, Lieutenant Fire."

He grinned. "You're welcome, Lieutenant Dash. Shall we?"

"In a moment. Spitfire said she wants us to dis-something-or-other at the same time."

"Disembark?"

"Yeah, that." She turned back to the window, and they fell into an easy, comfortable silence. They had been lovers long enough now that there was no awkward need to fill the space between them with words. They could be like two rocks, sitting side-by-side in the forest.

"I didn't realize this meant so much to you," a new voice, familiar, sounded to her left. Dash turned to see Rarity sitting on the seat beside her.

"Oh, hey Rares," Dash said. "Yeah, I mean, it was my first time back as a Wonder Bolt. All those years of telling you girls about my dreams... I must've had a dozen different fantasies for how I would come back, flying in with my uniform, leading a formation of Bolts, streaking across the sky... It was, uh, kinda silly, I guess."

"Not silly," Rarity said. "Every filly has dreams about impressing her friends. But, if I may ask, why come back on a train?"

"It's how the team travels." Dash waved a hoof toward Cloud Fire, who was watching them silently. Outside, the rush of town life seemed to have slowed to an intangible stop. Trees still blew in the wind, and she heard the rustle of leaves, but life had otherwise come to a pause, as if the whole world were waiting for something. "I mean, we could fly, but all of our equipment and support ponies need to get here too. So usually we just take the train."

"Ah, that's very..." she paused, thinking. "Practical, I guess. Surprising, really."

"Yeah, surprised me too."

They were quiet again. Outside, the babble of town began to intrude again, and Dash felt the carriage shake as ponies began moving about other parts of the train.

"So, what happens next?" Rarity asked.

"There's a bit of a ceremony on the platform. Spitfire introduces us, the mayor welcomes us, I think a few fillies give us some art they made in class. It's kind of dorky, but it's fun, too." Dash looked out the window again, and she felt a small smile sneak into her lips. "Oh, the girls were there, too. They were all so excited to see me."

"It sounds wonderful," Rarity said. Her voice was soft and tinged with melancholy. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there."

"Don't worry. It was fine. You were busy with that fashion show."

"There were other shows. I could have skipped one."

"Then you'd be giving up your dreams, just so I could have mine. What kind of friend would that make me?"

Silence again. Dash heard the rustle of the cushion as Rarity scooted closer, and then her weight settled against Dash's side. A warm breath tickled her mane as she whispered in Dash's ear. "A loved one."

"Yeah." Another pause. "But you didn't come."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Across from them, Cloud Fire stood and stretched. He flicked his tail at Dash and stepped out into the aisle. "C'mon, we'll be late."

They watched him go. "Well, shall we?" Dash asked.

Rarity nodded. "Let's."

* * *

Rainbow Dash frowned at the bruschetta floating before her. Only half of the cracker remained; the rest was still in her mouth, slowly being chewed to a pulp and begrudgingly swallowed. Something about it was off – the tomato unripe, or perhaps a bit of leaf had somehow gotten caught in the mix. She glanced around the room at the rest of the dinner party, and when she was sure nopony was looking her way, dumped the rest of the hors d'oeuvre in a potted plant.

You'd think they'd have better snacks. Ah well. She levitated a flute of wine back to her lips and took a healthy drink to wash away the sour aftertaste.

"Having fun yet?" a feminine voice whispered in her ear. Dash jumped and turned to see a slender earth pony mare smiling at her from just a few inches away.

"Oh, Cinnabar, you startled me." Dash leaned forward to press her cheek against her friend's. "And of course, I can't thank you enough for inviting me."

"Mhm." Cinnabar picked up a piece of bruschetta and popped it whole into her mouth. Apparently she didn't mind the taste. "Then why are you over here in the corner moping?"

"What? I am not moping." Dash frowned at the cinnamon-coated mare. "I'm just, ah, catching my breath."

"Oh? Were you doing a few laps around the house when I wasn't watching?" She gave Dash a gentle nudge in the ribs, which, since Cinnabar was an earth pony, nearly knocked the wind out of her. "Come on, join the party."

"Actually, I was thinking I might just—waagh!" Whatever Dash was thinking of doing lost any relevance as Cinnabar grabbed her mane with her teeth and dragged her back toward the lounge and the small herd mingling there. Dash barely had time to straighten her hair before the nearest ponies turned toward them.

"There you are, Cinny," a tall, older unicorn mare said. She had at least three glasses of wine in various states of fullness floating in her vicinity. Her voice held a certain distinction, as though each syllable carried with it the weight of the world, and she knew it. It was an accent Dash could imagine herself with someday. "I thought you might have abandoned us. Who's your friend?"

Cinnabar pushed her way into the circle of ponies, easily clearing enough room for Dash as well – again, earth pony. "I could hardly abandon my own party, Belladonna. My wine cellar would never recover." She gave Dash a little nudge toward the unicorn. "Anyway, this is Rainbow Dash, the new designer I was telling you about. She owns that boutique that was featured on Inside Fillydelphia last month."

"Oh yes!" Belladonna clasped Dash's hoof and leaned forward to place a light kiss on her cheek. "I've heard so much about you, dear. I'd welcome you to Fillydelphia and all, but I understand you've already been here for some time."

"Yes, well, a few months," Dash said. "More like a year, now that I think about it. I'm terribly glad to have my own shop again, and very grateful for the warm reception I've received from the ponies of Fillydelphia."

"Ah, a diplomat, too," Belladonna said. She finished off one of her three wine glasses and set it on an empty table. "I'll have to stop by your establishment the next time I'm in the district. My husband keeps complaining that I spend too much on clothes, but it's my money and I'll do what I want with it."

"That sounds very reasonable–"

"And if he doesn't like it, he can go live with that mistress of his! They can walk naked through the streets for all I care!"

"Ah..." Dash leaned back, and noticed Cinnabar rolling her eyes.

"Donna, you're yelling again," Cinnabar said. "Go get another drink."

"Mm, excellent idea." The older mare grinned at Cinnabar and stalked away into the crowd, trailed by her still-full drinks. "Hello there, young stallion..." Her voice faded into the babble and was lost.

"Sorry about that," Cinnabar said. "Belladonna can be a little... hm, eccentric, especially when she's had a few."

"I noticed. Do you think it's wise for her to have any more?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, she's a hoot when she's drunk. None of these stallions will be safe." Cinnabar snickered. "Speaking of stallions, where's yours?"

Dash stiffened. "I'm sorry, my what?"

"That colt of yours. You know, the guard?"

Dash knew this moment was coming, of course. One could hardly end a stable relationship without having to deal with a few social consequences, or somehow manage to keep the affair from her friends. She took another swig from her wine, let it burn on her tongue for a moment, and swallowed.

"Yes, Cedar. I'm afraid... well, things didn't work out for us."

Cinnabar froze, her own glass frozen a few inches from her lips. Her eyes widened, and she stared at Dash for an uncomfortable heartbeat.

"You... you two broke up?"

Dash noded. "Yes, it was mutual. And amicable. No hard feelings, of course."

"But... oh my gosh, Dash, I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

She nodded again. "Oh, of course I am. These things happen, Cinnabar. We both realized, well, that we weren't quite right for each other, and we didn't want to continue a relationship that only would have ended in tears."

Cinnabar frowned. She set her glass down on a stylish credenza that cost more than Dash's boutique made in a month, and gently guided Dash over to a quiet spot in the room, away from the rest of the crowd. "That's true, but you two always seemed so happy together. Are you sure about this?"

So happy. Dash closed her eyes, remembering the laughter and the smile she could never seem to keep from her face around him. She remembered the lazy afternoons spent lying by his side, doing nothing but exchange kisses and whisper in each other's ears.

And then she remembered the expression on ponies' faces when she introduced him at parties. The slightly widened eyes, followed quickly by gushing praise for his service as a guard. The empty, patronizing prattle that flowed so easily from rich ponies when speaking to the hard-working poor.

"We just weren't compatible," she mumbled.

"Well." Cinnabar let out a huff. "Well, again, I'm very sorry to hear that, Dash. If you need to talk to anypony, you know I'm always here for you, right?"

"Oh, of course, Cinny." Dash leaned over to press her cheek against Cinnabar's strong neck. "I'll be fine. I am fine. Now, go back to your party. The guests are probably all wondering what we're conspiring about."

"Hm." Cinnabar glanced over the rest of the room. The other ponies were mingling around the hors d'oeuvres table and near the bar, and didn't seem to be paying them much attention at all. "Dash, as long as there's food and liquor, I think we could set this place on fire and they wouldn't notice."

That drew a chuckle from her. "Well, it's a nice house. I wouldn't want to do that." She gave Cinnabar's flank a gentle nudge. "Come on, let's go talk."

The next hours passed in a blur. Normally Dash could chat with stone, but after her confession to Cinnabar, she found herself letting other ponies do most of the talking. Only when the conversation turned to matters of fashion or her new boutique did she open her mouth. It felt odd to be so reserved, but judging from the soft looks she caught other ponies giving her, word must have spread about her break-up with Cedar.

She was on her fourth or fifth glass of wine (or, perhaps, seventh – things were getting a bit blurry by that point) when she noticed a new pony standing a polite distance away. His coat was unusual, almost as white as hers, but shot through with blue hairs, lending the entire affair a silverish hue. It was striking, and she spent a few bleary moments blinking at him before the rest of her mind caught up.

"Oh, er, hello," she said, and immediately cursed herself. "I mean, good evening, sir."

"Good evening, my lady," he said. "I hope I'm not disturbing you." There was a smile on his lips and an intensity in his eyes that was rare to see in the gentle ponies of high society, as though his gaze were a knife in search of a sheath. His mane, a dark, subdued blue like denim, was combed back, but fashionably so, not like the greased mops so many city ponies wore. He was naked – unusual but not uncommon in Fillydelphia – except for a simple cravat tied around his neck. A speck of light sparkled from the white cloth, and Dash peered closer to see a small pin fashioned from gold in the shape of a hummingbird, a tiny diamond clutched in its claws.

Well, hello indeed. Dash felt a slight flush on her cheek, which might have just been the wine, but regardless this was still an interesting-looking pony. An interesting-looking stallion.

"Not at all, sir," she said, her head tilted ever so slightly to the side, which simultaneously expressed a demure attitude while exposing the long line of her neck. "I was just occupied with some thoughts, and didn't notice your approach."

"Well, it was not my intent to sneak up you." He stepped a bit closer, enough that they could speak in quiet tones and still be heard over the gentle murmur of the party. "Are you a friend of Cinnabar's?"

"Yes, we met during the Fantasia last fall. She's on the board, and it was my first time appearing, and she stopped by the night before the opening to check on me, to make sure I was ready with everything. We spent hours talking, and she helped me finish with the setup, and now she's probably my closest friend." Dash paused. "In Fillydelphia."

The stallion smiled. "That sounds like her. One of the kindest ponies I've ever met. She owns all this," he motioned with his hoof to encompass the mansion around them, "but if you met her on the street, you'd think she was the pony next door."

She was a good friend, Rarity's voice sounded silently. Dash's ears flicked at the sudden intrusion, but she kept her gaze on the stallion before her. I think, of all the rich and glamorous ponies I met in Fillydelphia, she was one of the few who would have been just as happily at home in Ponyville.

Dash raised an eyebrow. "Are the rich more ostentatious in your experience?"

"Sadly, yes. Though, my neighbors are rather wealthy as well."

"I work with fashion, sir. Ostentatious is not always a bad thing." She took another sip from her wine, and smiled at him to disarm the sting from her words. "I'm pleased to meet you, by the way. Rainbow Dash."

He reached out with a hoof, which Dash tapped with her own. "The pleasure is mine. Looking Glass, at your service."

* * *

Rainbow Dash looked around the dark, featureless plain in confusion. Powdery grey dust covered the ground beneath her feet, extending outward in all directions until it vanished beyond the distant horizon. Above her the sky rose in a black, starless vault. There was no sun, nor moon, nor any source of light that she could see, just the infinite stillness of the grey plain and the hammering of her heart in her chest.

"Up here, darling."

Dash spun around to see a set of stairs rising from the dust, stepping higher and higher until it became a narrow ribbon against the empty black sky. Nothing seemed to support it, yet it hung there like a string from a kite. Whatever voice had called to her was lost atop its olympian heights.

She set her hoof upon the first step, and the next, and the next and the next, until the details of the ground were lost, and it became a monochrome swell of grey and darker grey, like a heaving ocean frozen in time. She stared down at the vast wasteland until its enormity overwhelmed her, and she closed her eyes to escape it.

Higher, something whispered in her mind. She turned back to the empty sky and the ranks of stairs marching toward the absent heavens, and she took another step. And another, and another, until the barren world was miles beneath her. For hours she climbed, and days, and nights, and days and nights that were all the same, for there was no sun nor moon to mark the passage of time. Timelessly she climbed, while years passed around her and the invisible stars shifted in the black firmament, and ages passed into dust, and still she climbed, higher and higher, until the world beneath her was nothing but a tiny speck of light, the only star in the infinite, all-encompassing darkness that was her universe, and all that remained was her and the stairs above her and the voice that whispered in her mind, beckoning her one step more. Tirelessly she climbed, for there was nothing in her soul but that single imperative: Higher.

And then the stairs came to an end at a modest platform just a few yards on edge. It was as plain and featureless as the stairs, but in the center stood an enormous throne, wide and high-backed, crafted from pure gold that shone in the sunless darkness. A red velvet cushion covered the seat, and stretched out atop it, her chin and forelegs draped over the throne's arm, was Rarity. Not the Rarity that was Dash's friend, but the false Rarity, the evil one, Rarity the beautiful and graceful and tall.

"Hello, darling," the monster said in her liquid voice. "I'm glad you made it. I was getting worried."

"I'm not your darling," Dash shot back. She set a careful hoof on the platform, and when it seemed to hold, she stepped fully onto it. A hot, metallic stink filled her nose, and the bright colors of the gold throne and crimson cushion and, of course, the brilliant indigo waves of Rarity's mane stung her eyes after so long staring into the darkness. "What is this? Where are we?"

"You keep asking that question. We haven't moved, darling, we are still lying in bed together in Sweetie Belle's home in Ponyville. Or we're in an imaginary construct filled with all sorts of deep insights into your slut friend's mind. Isn't that what you're here for?"

Dash flinched. "Don't... don't use that word. Rarity is a beautiful pony and you don't know the first thing about her."

"Oh, she is beautiful, I'll grant you that. Not that it's done her much good."

Dash took a wary step closer to the throne. The metallic stink, like burning iron, grew stronger. "She was happy, though, wasn't she? With Cedar?"

"She was, yes. As happy as you were with Soarin."

That stung, but only for a moment. "Why did she break off their relationship?"

"Why do scorpions sting? It was her nature – she could no more be a lowly guard's mate than you could shear off your wings."

"She's... she's not that shallow. She just seems that way sometimes.”

Rarity sighed. “At a certain point, Rainbow darling, seeming and being become the same thing. She passed that point long, long ago.”

“You said she wore masks, though, and the real her was different. If seeming and being are the same thing, then aren’t the masks the real her as well?”

The imposter stared at her for a long moment. A spark of something – interest, perhaps, or surprise – lit her eyes. “Quite an astute observation. And perhaps the masks have become a real part of her. But, Dash, if you could see deep into her soul, like I can, you wouldn’t like what lurks there.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It doesn’t matter what you believe, darling. When you cracked that gem open and used its spell, you passed the point of safe return. Before this night is over, you will see what lies in her breast.”

“Fine.” Dash stomped a hoof on the platform, which rang with an eerie, ghostly call that echoed in the infinite darkness around them. “I’ll see this ‘real’ her, and I’ll still love her for who she is, because I don’t care about stupid secrets.”

Silence again. The monster stretched out its long, beautiful neck along the throne’s arm, and for a moment she looked like the real Rarity, caught in a moment of contemplation. “Your loyalty is a credit to you, Dash. You are a beautiful person, and you deserve far, far better than what happened. Or what will happen.”

She couldn’t help it; she reached out to touch that soft cheek, pausing inches away. She froze there, and slowly lowered her leg to rest on the throne instead. “You can’t know that. All she needs is—” A sudden, sharp sting in her leg interrupted her, and she yanked it away from the throne with a cry. Specks of blood dotted her coat where it had rested on the gold, and there, on the throne’s arm, tattered flecks of blue hair stuck fast.

“What… Rarity, what the hell…” She stumbled back, and for the first time focused her gaze on the throne itself, rather than the pony reclining there. It was not solid gold, as she had assumed, but a crazed tangle of wire and needles and flechettes and thorns, all slender and sharp-tipped with cruel barbs. They wound around each other, through each other, a dense forest maze of beautiful, deadly metal.

"Don't act so surprised, darling," Rarity said. She lifted her head from the throne's arm, but half the skin of her face tore away, pouring out a river of blood. All through the rest of her body, Dash now saw, the gold hooks anchored in her flesh, piercing her, drinking her. The cushion beneath her body was not red velvet; it was white cotton, stained crimson. The hot metal stink was her blood.

"Masks can hide many things," the flensed, ruined face said. Rarity's body shifted, and the cruel metal did its work, peeling her coat away like a glove. "Lies, and pain as well."

It was too much. Dash stumbled away, off the platform, into the dark emptiness all around. Droplets of warm blood pattered against her face as she fell. Her wings shot out reflexively, but the dark air offered them no purchase, and the wind began to shriek as she hurtled endlessly toward the bright star at the bottom of the endless abyss.

Falling, she screamed. And then she woke up.

But not really.

The Gift of the Magi, part 2

Rainbow Dash slowly walked around the bedroom, carrying a burning taper in her magical grasp. It was scented, like incense, and left a tenuous, winding thread of smoke behind it as she moved from candle to candle, lighting them each in turn. They were small candles, more to set the mood than provide illumination, but as she completed her circuit of the chamber they banished the shadows, filling the room with a dim, warm, flickering light, the kind she had always associated with romantic dinners and hearthside rendezvous with lovers. She smiled at that last thought and imagined herself stretched out on a rug, basking in the warmth of a fire, every inch of her body laid out and exposed for her stallion, first to gaze upon, and then to kiss, and then to bite, and finally to take in every way a stallion could.

She shivered a little. It had been nearly a week since she had last seen Looking Glass, and she was impatient. Randy.

Hungry.

She blew out the taper and watched the smoke rise from the ember it left behind. For a moment she could see her breath in the air, as it stirred eddies in the haze, but then a stray draft snatched it all away and left her alone with the guttering candles and huge, opulent bed. There were far too many pillows on it, like somepony had decided to start a collection rather than use the bed for sleep. Not that she cared – pillows were fun to toss or swing at other ponies, and she didn't plan on using the bed for much sleep anyway.

She had other plans in mind for it. The thought led to a wicked grin.

A click from the hallway broke the stillness, and she heard a distant door open behind her. Hoofsteps drew closer to the bedroom, and somepony – a stallion, she could tell by the musky scent – walked through the curtained threshold to join her. He brought flowers, she could smell those too, and a bottle of wine that he set on the table with a quiet thunk of glass on wood. She wet her lips with her tongue, and it took all her willpower not to turn around. It was better this way, to wait, to make him come to her. She was the object of desire here.

All was still. Only the beat of her heart and the rush of blood in her ears filled the silence. She let the tension draw out – she was patient, she could wait forever if she had to, no matter how bad the itch in her belly or the nervous energy in her tail that begged, even now, to flick itself up and aside and expose her desperate desire to the—

Looking Glass broke first, as she knew he would. Three quick steps and he was beside her, his forelegs wrapping around her neck to draw her into a rough, furious kiss. She gasped in surprise and tried to draw away, but that reflex lasted only a moment, and then she was pushing back against him, her greedy lips opening, her tongue darting out to wrestle with his and try and force its way inside him. He grunted and pushed until she bumped against the wall hard enough to rattle the furniture and knock the alarm clock from the bedside table. His hoof tangled in her mane, the way she liked, and she whimpered at the sensation, half in pain, half with joy.

Dash broke the kiss and leaned back to regard him. Her breath came in gasps, and it was all she could do to hold his face away long enough to speak. “My, someone's eager tonight.”

“Shh, shh. Please,” he said. He pushed back in, and for a minute neither spoke as the rough, combative kiss resumed. His tongue slowly overpowered hers, and she invited it into her mouth, sucking on it, tasting it. His entire body shuddered, and when they parted, it was he who pulled away.

“I need you. I need you right now.” Looking Glass reared up, pinning her against the wall, and his desperate arousal became clear. His cock, hard as she had ever seen a stallion, pressed against her chest, and she felt it shake with every beat of his heart.

“All day. Dash,” he whispered. “All day I've been thinking about you. Every mare I saw or smelled reminded me of you. Every time they brushed against me... Oh, Dash, never be a rich pony. I swear, these mares think they can just turn around and let me get a glimpse beneath their tails and I'll do anything for them. Money, Dash. Money makes ponies into whores.”

“You poor thing,” Dash crooned. “Young mares shaking their flanks at you all day long? How terrible for you.” She ran a hoof up the length of his shaft and gave the head a gentle squeeze. He shivered again, and she heard a faint choking sound from his throat. “But you saved yourself for me? I think that deserves a reward.”

“Oh, Celestia, please Dash, please please—" He stopped when her lips found his again, and for a brief moment they shared a slow, tender kiss, one of equals. Gentle tongues, touching, greeting, and finally parting.

It's amazing how he could change, she heard Rarity's voice in her mind. Such a calm, collected, noble stallion, but get him in the bedroom, and...

“These mares, what did you want to do to them?” she whispered, letting her hot breath blow in his mane. Her tongue darted out to lick his cheek, long and slow and wet, and she found his ear with her lips. It danced away, but she trapped it with her teeth and bit hard enough to draw a pained whine from his chest.

“You know what I wanted.” He twisted his head and managed to escape from her bite, and then pushed his head against her barrel. Trying to turn her away, she realized. To position her.

She resisted. The tease would only make the rest of their night better, she knew. “Tell me anyway.”

“I wanted to fuck them,” he panted, hot and vicious. “I didn't care who saw, I wanted to mount them and bite them and fuck every one of them, but I didn't. Because of you, Dash.”

“Do I mean that much to you?”

“You mean everything. Please, please, please—"

She pushed him away. He dropped onto all fours, his whole body trembling, and even after she turned away she could feel his gaze following her as she stepped over to the bed. A flash of her horn swept away the silly pillows, and she set her forelegs on the mattress, leaning over it, her rear legs parted, her tail swept up over her back. It was a lewd enough pose, even in the heat of their coupling, to still bring a blush to her cheeks, and she looked over her shoulder at him. “Take me, Looking Glass.”

It was a silly line, but it had the desired effect. A spasm worked its way through his barrel, and suddenly he leapt toward her, mounting her with a single motion. His cock slapped against her belly, leaving a smear of fluid, and she couldn't help but giggle as he whined and pawed at her shoulders, far too excited, too desperate, to manage the simple task of penetrating her. She shifted her hips and reached back with a bit of magic, just a little touch to line things up, and then—

He tried to be gentle, but she knew better than to expect miracles from stallions when they were so worked up they couldn't even find her marehood on their own. He thrust and half his length was buried inside her, drawing a sharp gasp from her throat. Looking Glass wasn't a large stallion, but he was large enough that the sudden invasion stretched her to the point of pain, even as wet as she was. Her entire body tightened, and she felt him pause.

“Sorry, are you—"

“I'm fine,” she interrupted, and she was. The discomfort passed as her loins recovered from the sudden shock of his entry, and she relaxed around him. She waggled her hips just a bit, pressing back against him, and it was all the impetus he needed.

He pushed forward again, slow this time, sinking inch by inch until he was fully hilted, his thighs mashed up against her rear, her tail crushed beneath his hips. They froze like that, unmoving except for the heaving of their chests and the involuntary twitch of his cock inside her.

This, this was her favorite part. The first moments after penetration, before the undignified humping and mess that always followed. Not that those weren't enjoyable in their own right, but it was this moment, when she held him captive in her body, a slave to her charms, that she felt most like a mare. Many stallions thought they were the dominant partner during sex, she knew, but that was just foolishness; for all that she was beneath Looking Glass, the act belonged to her.

He couldn't hold still for long. His forelegs tightened against her shoulders, and he drew back for another thrust that shook her whole body. His teeth bit down on her mane, pulling her head back, and she let out an involuntary gasp. Another thrust, and another, each less controlled, each harder than the one before.

This couldn't last long, she knew. He was too worked up, too excited by thought of her throughout the week, and of course by the taste and feel of her body now. It was because of her that he desperately worked his hips, uneven, out of control. His legs shook, and he thrust one final time, harder than ever before, seeking out every wet inch of her depths before exploding.

And burst he did. She couldn't feel the results of his orgasm, per se, but the shuddering of his pelvis and the loud groan from his throat left little to the imagination. He held her down for a long moment, still pushing into her, his hips twitching every few seconds, and then he tumbled to the side, his cock sliding out with a wet squelch and a flow of semen down her thigh that, once upon a time, would have left a younger Rainbow Dash blushing and mortified.

Now, of course, she grinned. It was merely the physical product of their love, and even though she was far from an orgasm herself, the warm sensation of his seed dripping from her was more than enough satisfaction to start the night with.

His wobbling legs kept him upright for a moment, leaning against the bed, but they soon gave out and he tumbled to the floor. He panted on his back, his eyes closed, like he had just finished a marathon.

She lay down next to him, her legs tucked daintily beneath her. “Now then, feeling better?” she whispered in his ear.

He didn't answer right away. He licked his lips, and his jaw trembled with the effort of speech. “Better, yes. Also, I think my heart might explode.”

She tittered. “Well, tell it to wait. I'm not done with you yet.”

“You're a cruel pony, Rainbow Dash.”

“Mm, that's a lie.” She leaned down to draw her tongue up his long, corded neck, across the corner of his jaw, all the way to his ear. She tasted the salty sweat in his coat, and blew a slow, hot breath against his forehead and horn. “I'm actually very generous.”

“Generous? Ha!” He attempt to emphasize the laugh fell short of breath, and he turned his head to cough. “How many stallions have you killed this way?”

“None. Yet.” She pushed his legs aside and kissed his chest, enjoying the flex of the muscles beneath his coat. It wouldn't take him long to recover, she knew, and when he did their next round of play would last much, much longer. She kissed his ribs, and then his belly, and lower and lower until her lips brushed his flaccid cock. It was still smeared with their commingled fluids, and tasted bitter and salty and sour, but she gave it a long lick anyway. What the taste represented meant far more to her than the taste itself, and she let out a quiet moan.

“We're both lucky, then. All those stallions are still alive, and you haven't gone to jail yet. Can you—ah! Ah, careful, careful with that... Can you, can you imagine how embarrassing the trial would be?” The words were nearly unintelligible by the end, mixed with the groan pouring from his lungs.

“Mm.” Dash would have said more, but she was otherwise occupied. She had discovered, some weeks before, that she could fit one of Looking Glass's testicles in her mouth. The effort seemed to produce equal amounts pleasure and panic in him, but she was careful not to press too hard with her tongue, or heaven forbid use her teeth.

Well, sometimes she used her teeth. She was fairly sure he enjoyed it.

She switched to his other testicle and suckled on it carefully, rolling it around her mouth with her tongue. After only a few moments of this treatment, she felt his cock stiffen against her muzzle, and soon enough it stood firm above his abdomen.

She pulled away, then crawled back up over his body until they lay belly to belly, his cock trapped between them. They shared another kiss, longer this time, and much slower. Just like the rest of their lovemaking would be.

“Ready?” she whispered. His head twitched, nodding, and they resumed.

Hours later, the candles were all dying or dead, and Rainbow Dash lay exhausted in the bed. Beside her, Looking Glass moaned something out of breath and slumped onto the pillows. She stared up at the plaster ceiling, its details lost as the last of the candles succumbed to shadow.

As far as rooms went, it was nice. As far as hotels went, it was superb. They always had the best accommodations that Fillydelphia could offer, and she didn't mind sleeping with him away from the Boutique. Her place was small, miserly, nothing suitable for a pony of his wealth and social status. So, during his weekly visits, it was the hotel whose wine they drank and room service they ate and sheets they defiled. She appreciated not having to do the extra load of laundry.

But a hotel was not a home. She turned that thought over in her mind, almost daring herself to speak it out loud, and then banished the notion with a huff of breath. Looking Glass stirred next to her, mumbled something, and then wrapped his legs around her in a soft embrace.

This memory. I was happy, here. Rarity's imagined voice was clear in the silence. Happy and fulfilled. This was the pinnacle, Dash. The last night before the fall began.

But that was in Rarity's future; for Dash, this was good enough. She nestled up against Looking Glass, so her back pressed into his muscled chest, and let the slow metronome of his breath lull her to sleep.

* * *

“You seem very happy lately.”

Cinnabar's words did not match her tone. They should have been said with satisfaction, or pleasure, or perhaps (and still acceptably) jealousy. They should have put a smile on Rainbow Dash's face.

They didn't. She paused in the act of taking a bite from her garden salad, the petals of a daisy still stuck to her lips. She recovered in an instant and lapped them up with her tongue, floating a napkin to her mouth to cover the indecorous action and incidentally giving her a few seconds to mull over Cinnabar's tone.

It was worried.

“Oh, I suppose things have been going well at the Boutique. The spring lineup is coming along nicely, and the new mannequins should be going out on display next week. That always brings in new traffic.” She took a sip from her water. “Do I seem... happier, to you?”

Cinnabar's head tilted to the side, as though she were looking for eavesdroppers. Granted, such a thing wouldn't be hard in the chic little cafe they found themselves in for lunch; the tables were barely more than a pony-length apart, and she could hear and smell and practically feel the crowded seats all around them. Their conversations were a low buzz in her ears, and she found herself glancing around as well, a sudden thrill of paranoia running up her spine.

“You do...” Cinnabar eventually continued. “Ever since that party the other month.”

“Yes, well.” Another sip. “I imagine I'm just getting used to Fillydelphia.”

“Mhm.” Cinnabar used a hoof to adjust her sunglasses, peering over the darkened lenses at Dash. “You were going through that breakup with your coltfriend, if I recall.”

“I wasn't going through anything,” Dash said. She paused and mentally reined in her sharp tone. “It was already over and done with. I've moved on.”

“Yes.” Cinnabar turned again, and couldn't quite meet Dash's gaze. “I've heard about you and Looking Glass. You two aren't being as careful as you think.”

Dash bristled. Literally – she felt the hairs of her coat stand on end, and when she spoke it was with a sharp heat. “And? I believe I'm entitled to my choice in personal relationships.”

“Yes, but—"

Dash tossed her napkin down. “But what? Do you think our stations are too far apart? That I'm, what, a lowly shopkeeper, and him a highborn socialite?”

“Dash, that's not what—"

“Why, I am friends with Princess Celestia herself!” Dash knew she was making a scene, but she didn't care. The buzz of the rest of the cafe dimmed as the other customers tilted their ears toward them. “I'm a successful tailor and businessmare!”

“That's not what I meant to say,” Cinnabar hissed, ducking her head. “Of course you deserve somepony special, somepony just as wonderful as you are. But Looking Glass—"

“But what?” Dash leaned forward over the table. “Why shouldn't I deserve a pony as kind and passionate and, yes, as wealthy as him?”

“Oh, for the love of...” Cinnabar pressed her hooves against her temples. “Because he's married, you fool.”

Silence. The rest of the cafe, the noise from the kitchen, even the sound of Dash's heart in her chest all seemed to vanished as Cinnabar's words landed like arrows in her soul.

“He... what?”

“He's married, Dash. His wife is Terrazzo, a lovely pegasus mare I've met several times in Manehattan. She's a little high-strung, but they've been married for, I don't know, years at least.”

“But... that's impossible.” Dash sat back in her seat. She stared down at the remains of her salad. “He would have told me if he were married.”

Cinnabar didn't bother to answer. She just gave Dash a look filled with pity and a small amount of exasperation. “Look, Dash, I'm sorry. I've been trying to work up the guts to tell you for weeks now, but—"

“No, no.” Dash sat up straighter. She took a deep breath, and then another. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I will... I will speak with him tonight, and we will... ah... conclude things.”

Cinnabar gave her a long look before speaking. “Are you sure, Dash? Maybe you shouldn't see him yet, or ever, for that matter. In fact, why don't you come over tonight? We can have a sleepover, just the two of us, like fillies.”

Dash took a deep breath and tried to hold it, but the shaking in her chest was impossible to contain. She shuddered as she exhaled, and barely kept herself from gasping for more air. Her eyes burned, and she squeezed them shut.

This? I didn't realize it at the time, but this was my chance. Rarity's voice somehow broke through the cacophony in Dash's mind, as even and emotionless as a frozen pond on a winter night. For all that it hurt, this could have been my nadir, my lowest and darkest point, Dash. I could have started the long climb back up, and this would be nothing more than a foolish story, a misadventure to regale you girls with years from now, when such tales will have lost their humiliating edge, and only remind us of how careless our youth was. Oh Dash, I would give my left eye to travel back to this moment, and set myself on a better path.

In, hold, release. Dash spent a few moments focused only on her breathing, neverminding the hot tears that leaked down her muzzle. She pawed at them with her hoof, and Cinnabar, bless her heart, pretended not to notice.

And then she was done. The fit of weakness passed, and all that remained was the mare who had pulled herself up from nothing, claimed an Element of Harmony, saved the kingdom, and made herself into Fillydelphia's hottest new thing.

Dash took a sip from her water. The glass barely shook in her grasp. “I appreciate the offer, Cinnabar, and I understand what you're doing. I assure you, though, I am fine. I just need to talk with Looking Glass, and then I will be much better.”

“Are you sure that's wise?”

“No.” Sip. “But it's going to happen.”

* * *

Rainbow Dash was waiting for Looking Glass when he arrived at their hotel room. It was the same room as last week, the penthouse suite, and she knew from browsing the catalogue in the lobby that it cost no less than five-hundred bits per night. She rarely made so much money in a single day – sometimes, if business was slow, in an entire week.

In the few months they had dated—no, not dated, she corrected herself. Nothing so innocent. Dating was for ponies with romance on their minds. All Looking Glass had ever been after was her tail, and like a foolish country filly she had given it away without thinking, too blinded by the allure of a high-society stallion. Never realizing that she was being used, a convenient receptacle in which to dispose of his urges.

Her jaw hurt. The pain was enough to break the vicious thoughts flowing through Dash's mind, thoughts about Looking Glass and what he deserved, and for her to realize her teeth were on the verge of cracking, so hard was she grinding them together. She closed her eyes, let out a series of long breaths, and counselled herself to patience. To wait.

In time, the door opened, and Looking Glass entered. He brought flowers and wine again, she saw. Just another item on the night's bill for him.

And her the cheapest one of all.

“Hello, darling. Is everything alright? You look—"

She didn't let him finish. Her horn flashed, and a wicked set of fabric shears sped across the space between them, missing his cheek by a hair and embedding itself, blade-first, several inches into the solid wood-paneled wall.

To his credit, he didn't scream or faint. He did drop the flowers and wine, though, and stare at her, his mouth hanging open in shock.

That was fine. It was her turn to speak anyway. “Hello, darling,” she spat the word. “How long did you think you could keep it secret from me?”

Silence. His eyes darted around the room before finally settling on her. “Keep what a secr—"

“No!” she shrieked. “Don't play the fool. I know all about Terrazzo.” That was a lie, actually; she knew no more than what Cinnabar had told her, but there was no reason for Looking Glass to know that. She snorted and stepped closer, backing him into the wall.

“Right, Terrazzo.” He licked his lips and looked anywhere but at her. “Why don't we both have a seat and calm down, and we can talk—"

“Calm down? I suppose we could do that.” She yanked the shears out of the wall, sending a spray of splinters raining onto the carpet. “Or, I could turn your balls into a pair of tasteful broaches. One for me, and one for your wife. Do you think she'd like that?”

“Okay, you're angry. I understand that, and you're absolutely right to be.”

Dash paused, but kept the shears floating beside her. “Go on.”

As if that were a hidden signal, Looking Glass slumped, a look of relief on his face as he sank to his haunches. “You're right that I haven't been honest with you, Dash. Can I try to explain why?”

“Is it because you're an ass who enjoys having a mistress to... to fuck when he's out of town? Because that's what I'm thinking!”

“No, Dash, you're not a mistress. Please, whatever you think of me, don't think so poorly of yourself.” He leaned forward, his eyes wide and his face open, as if to beseech her. “Dash, you told me once you were familiar with nobility and high society. You've spent time in the upper echelons of Canterlot, haven't you?”

His tone set off alarms in Dash's mind. She leaned away from him. “Yes, of course. I've told you, the princesses and my friends have something of a history together.”

“Then you know how marriages work with them.”

No, she didn't. They worked just like every other marriage, she'd assumed. The tight expression on her face was all the answer he needed.

“No? Listen, Dash, it's not a... well, it's not like in the story books. Marriages are about business. They connect families together. Wealthy families. Old families. Families like the Glasses. Terrazzo's mother owns half the weather factories in Cloudsdale. Out marriage wasn't about love – it was a merger. I didn't even meet Terrazzo until a week before we were wed.”

It was nearly a minute before Dash could respond. Even assuming it was true, it was too much to absorb, too soon. “What... why did you keep it a secret, then?”

He took a step closer. “What would you have done, if I'd introduced myself to you as a married stallion, back at Cinnabar's party? What would you have thought?”

“I'd have thought you were a lecher, which, as we now know, was the truth!” Dash stepped to the side, keeping her distance from him. “How many other mares have there been?”

He stopped. “None, Dash. Even for a loveless marriage like mine, it takes a lot of courage to approach another mare. I'm not a brave pony.”

She opened her mouth, the reflex to defend him from his own self-belittling nearly overwhelming her. With some effort she forced the words back and stared at him, seething. Seething and, for the first time since her conversation with Cinnabar, struck by a tiny niggle of doubt.

She let the doubt speak. “Why did you approach me, then?”

“Why?” He barked out a humorless laugh. “Dash, because you were the most beautiful mare in the room. The most beautiful I'd seen in months. You weren't like the other mares in there – you weren't born rich, you didn't have everything hoofed over to you on a plate. You were climbed up from nothing, saved Equestria more times than I have hooves, built the the most impressive new fashion business this city has seen in decades, and you've done it all without losing sight of who you really are. Dash... Dash, I can't even list all the things that make you special. Of course I approached you. Any stallion who knew who you were would.”

Dash couldn't help the blush that accompanied his litany of her accomplishments. She knew she wasn't what her friends would call a humble pony, but neither did she wear her honors on her sleeve. Hearing them listed like that... it was nice.

But still. This stallion had lied to her, had lied to rut her, and now he was begging to keep her. She had more pride than that.

“Looking Glass,” she said. “I won't pretend I can condone what you did. Regardless of whether you and Terrazzo consider your marriage 'real,' it is real to the rest of the world. For you to do what you did, to befriend and then bed me under false pretenses... well, I am sorry, Looking Glass, but I cannot tolerate that.”

He stared at her in silence while she spoke. When she was done, he took his time before answering. “Rainbow, again, I understand how you feel. How betrayed you must feel, and if I have hurt you, I apologize sincerely for it. If this is over, well, I understand. I just want you to know that I never considered you a mistress. You're a mare in your own right, and you deserve a stallion as special as you are.”

She nodded and slipped the shears back in her saddlebags. “Very well. Thank you for that... sentiment, let's call it. I hope the next time I see you, Looking Glass, it will be under better circumstances.”

His mouth twitched, and for a moment she thought he might try to make some other play for her. But then his ears sagged, and he gave her a desolate nod. “Alright. But if you ever need anything, remember, my door is always open.”

Silence. Dash wondered if there was something more to say, perhaps, but by the time she thought of a rejoinder, he had already left, and she was alone in the expensive penthouse suite.

It was six months before she saw him again.

* * *

There weren't many ponies left in the bleachers. Down the rows, janitors pushed large brooms to sweep up popcorn, abandoned drinks, fliers, posters, giant foam hooves, and all the other detritus of a carnival affair. Only a few ponies remained, mostly families with children, the foals already asleep on their parents' backs, exhausted from a day of screaming and cheering and stuffing their faces with the oily carnival food that, for some reason, tasted as wonderful as anything Rainbow Dash had ever eaten, and minutes after devouring made her sick at the thought of taking even another bite.

It was a weird feeling. Fortunately, it passed by the time of the next airshow, and she was free to make the same mistake again. She did so love her snacks of fried batter drizzled with sugar and cinnamon and cream and caramel and toasted apples and powdered sugar, even if they made her too sick to fly.

Up at the top of the stands, in the nosebleed section, even fewer ponies had bothered to stick around. In fact, it seemed to just be her and Rarity. Dash ignored her friend for the time being, choosing instead to stand upon the highest row of seats, her forelegs draped over the back of the bleachers, and stare at the ponies trotting by far below. They were nearly fifty feet off the ground – not high for a pegasus, but high enough that the ponies turned into a sea of colorful manes and backs and tails, flowing with purpose toward the exit gates.

Rarity took a seat next to Dash. She tried peeking over the back of the stands, to follow Dash's gaze, but a single glance at the dizzying fall behind them was enough to turn her around to face in safer directions. She shook her head to clear it, and then she spoke.

“Hello, darling. Good show?”

“Yeah,” Dash said. “I mean, the show itself was good. We finally got through the Wonder Bolt Whiplash maneuver without screwing something up, so Spitfire and Soarin' are pretty happy. Trust me, you don't want to be around them after a show if somepony messes up a performance, especially if you're the one who messed up.”

“Well, congratulations on a good show, then?” Rarity leaned a bit closer. “What are you looking for?”

“Somewhere down there, Cloud Fire is meeting a mare he's been exchanging letters with for several months. He didn't tell me this, obviously, because he's a gigantic asshole who thinks that just because we agreed to see other ponies means he's allowed to hook up with random mares after shows!” Dash smashed her hoof onto the metal railing, producing a clang that echoed down the length of the bleachers and back, and resumed her angry stare at the ponies below.

Rarity was silent for some time. “Yes, I recall you and he had a bit of a falling out.”

“We didn't have a falling out. We just agreed to take a break, and suddenly he decided that gives him permission to go snorting under other mare's tails. Well, fuck him, Rares. I hope he's happy with her.”

“You, ah.” Rarity cleared her throat. “You don't sound very happy.”

“I am. I hope he's so happy, he...” Dash tried to think of something terrible caused by happiness, failed, and ended with a frustrated grunt. “I don't know! Bastard. Fuck him, Rares. Fuck all stallions.”

“You did say you both agreed to see other ponies...” Rarity sidled up to her, and gave her a gentle nudge with her hoof. “It sounds like you weren't as ready to take a break as you thought.”

“Whatever. Maybe I wasn't.” Dash blew out an angry huff. “I should be thrilled, you know. If this hadn't happened, Soarin and I never would've hooked up, and I'd never have enjoyed the best two years of my life with him.”

“Are you still mad at him, then?”

“Yes. No. Not really, I guess. He... he helped a lot, after the accident. Maybe he felt guilty.” Dash leaned against the railing, watching the crowd below as it thinned away. “But sometimes I have dreams about this day, where instead of just watching him and Aurora kiss, I fly down there and confront them, and beat him up or her up or they beat me up or the stands collapse on us and I heroically rescue them both and Cloud Fire realizes he was wrong to leave me and begs to take me back but of course I don't, and maybe I make out with Aurora in front of him just to rub salt in his wounds, and after that I usually stop dreaming or just wake up. Is that weird?”

“Yes, darling. But I think it's normal.”

“Heh, well, that's a relief.” Dash turned away and sat down, her side pressed against Rarity's. “Hey, aren't we supposed to be in your dreams instead—”

* * *

“I think that's the last of them, Miss Dash,” Thimble said. Her apprentice set the paper invoice atop the others, and then picked up the stack and tapped its edges against the table, bringing them all in line, like sheaves in a book. Satisfied, she set the pile down and looked across the table at Dash.

Dash didn't meet her eyes. Her gaze was fixed on the invoices, the worryingly, sickeningly thick stack of invoices, each of which represented a pony or a business or a bank to whom she owed a significant amount of bits. Far more than she had on hand, or realistically expected to earn in the next several months. More, perhaps, than the net value of everything in her Boutique.

More than she had any chance of paying before they became due. She swallowed silently.

“Are we... are we going to be alright?” Thimble's voice was just above a whisper. She gnawed at her lip, and Dash glanced up to see her ears hanging limp against her mane.

“Now, Thimble, we knew we were taking a risk with the summer line. Believe me, even the best designers have ideas that don't pan out. It's part of the industry, and it's how we become better.” It sounded so good when she said it like that – like it was some lesson in friendship learned with her friends, and not a career-ending disaster. She kept her face calm and her voice neutral for her apprentice's sake.

“Yes, but... Miss Dash, I know the books. Even if the winter line is a hit, we won't see those bits before these debts come due. The...” She paused and took a series of short, shallow breaths. “The sundresses were my design. I'm the reason we're here, not you or Weave. If the Boutique... if the Boutique survives, I understand if you don't wish to retain me.”

“Thimble!” Dash barked. “Look at me. The sundresses were your design, yes, but this is my business, and I am responsible for every decision we make. I believed, and I still believe, that your designs were superb and your craftsmanship unmatched. If the rest of Fillydelphia disagrees, well, we just need to work harder to convince them otherwise.”

Thimble winced at the rebuke, and her expression slowly crumbled throughout Dash's little speech, until at the end she could no longer look across the table. She wiped her eyes with her pastern. “But, what about the bills?”

“I will worry about the bills. I have resources, Thimble. One does not save the world several times over without earning a few favors.” She laughed, though there was little humor in it. “Sometimes I think you two forget what I did before I came to Fillydelphia.”

“Oh, no Miss Dash. We—”

“It's alright, Thimble.” Dash turned to the window. Outside, the skies were low and grey, and she could faintly see the flitting shapes of pegasi pushing more clouds into place. The first ill weather of fall would be hitting soon, and that would drive more ponies to her shop. This was survivable. “Why don't you go help Weave with the displays? I think we'll be getting some more customers soon.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Thimble stood from the table and paused, as though there were something left to say. After a moment, she bobbed her head nervously and trotted out the door.

Dash pulled the door shut with her magic and locked it. Alone, now, she let her eyes turn back to the stack of bills on the table, and the hollow pit in her gut seemed to well up with despair.

I had no way to pay those bills, Rarity's voice sounded in Dash's mind. None at all. Every drop of my reserves I had poured into opening that Boutique, and everything was going perfectly until that damned disastrous summer line. This should have been the end, Dash. This should have been the first day I began crawling back to Ponyville to start all over again. Oh, Celestia, Dash. I wish it had.

Dash stared at the bills in silence, her mind methodically churning over everything she could sell, everything she could cut, every favor she could call in. Even in the best case, if she fired Thimble and Weave and sold everything that wasn't nailed down and begged Twilight or Applejack for a loan, she would barely last out the month.

And that was simply impossible. Turn out her apprentices, so soon in their careers? It would be a black mark that followed them for years. No, she needed some way to keep them, to keep the shop, to keep up appearances, and last until her own designs could float them again. Six months would be enough – if she could just survive that long.

And so, thinking of her apprentices, she picked up a blank sheet of parchment and a quill, and she began to write.

* * *

The Fillydelphia High Step Hotel penthouse suite was just as expensive as Dash remembered. So expensive, in fact, that purchasing a single night consumed nearly all her remaining bits. She wouldn't even have enough for a cab ride home the next morning.

Or perhaps she would. That depended on how the next few hours went. She let out a quiet breath and gave her reflection a final, critical once-over in the full-length mirror beside the wardrobe.

Mane, perfect as always. Not an indigo strand out of place. Her coat was brushed to a gleaming luster, so much that it looked more silver than white. Her tail was coiled and springy and just jaunty enough to advertise her wares without coming across as unseemly. Only her eyes bothered her – if one looked close enough, as she certainly did, they were still red-rimmed and puffy with stress.

Well, it was too late to do anything about that. She turned deliberately away from the mirror and trotted out to the suite's main room, where a bottle of wine chilled in a bucket of ice beside two long-necked glasses. The wine had been another hoof-ful of bits she couldn't afford, but again, appearances were her primary concern tonight.

There was a knock from the door. She gave the room another quick glance, to make sure nothing was on fire, and then trotted to the entrance. Before her guest could knock again, she put a demure smile on her face and pulled the door open.

“Good evening, Mister Glass,” she said. “Thank you for answering my letter so quickly.”

“Of course, Miss Dash,” Looking Glass answered. He followed her into the suite and gave it an appreciative glance. His gaze lingered on the bottle of wine, but only for a moment, and then his attention was back on her. “I'm just glad I was already planning a visit to Fillydelphia. Otherwise it might have been weeks before we could meet.”

“Please, we've been through so much, just call me Rainbow.” Dash settled onto the couch, pulling her legs up underneath her. “Wine?”

“Thank you, I would love some. And I insist you dispose with the 'Mister Glass' as well. We are old friends, are we not?” The question was rhetorical, but at the same time it wasn't. Dash noticed him lean forward at the end, and his attention was keenly focused on her reply.

“Of course we are, Looking Glass.” She smiled at him, and he relaxed his stance. “Please, have a seat while I pour.”

He practically hopped up onto the couch, though he kept a careful distance between them. Not close enough to accidentally touch, to brush their shoulders against each other without meaning. At hoof's length; a safe degree of separation.

“So, how have you been?” she asked, passing him a glass and pouring herself one as well. They tapped them together in a casual toast, and each took a sip.

“Busy, as usual. It seems like every year there's some new city I have to add to my list of business opportunities.” He took another sip of wine, swirling it around the glass. “Still, it keeps the roof over my head, so I can't complain.”

“Mhm.” Dash took another drink herself while subtly appraising him. He hadn't changed much in the half-a-year they'd been apart; still neat and well-groomed, with tired circles beneath his eyes that hinted at a pony with too many responsibilities. He wore the same neat cravat and hummingbird pin he'd worn at their first meeting, nearly a year ago now, at Cinnabar's home. “And how are things with Terrazzo?”

Looking Glass froze, and for an instant a speculative look flashed across his face before being quickly subsumed in an expression of studied neutrality.

“Oh, we're fine, I suppose,” he said. “Cordial, of course, as I think I explained before. We perform our duties as husband and wife, and do not interfere with each others'... hm, pastimes, let us say.”

“Mm.” Dash took a deep swallow from her wine, barely tasting it, and wishing the alcohol would hit her system faster. “Well, I'm glad things are... cordial, as you said. Domestic harmony is a valuable thing.”

“Indeed.” He set his glass down, and turned to face her fully. “Dash, I got the impression from your letter that things were not entirely well. Do you need help?”

And there was the terrible question, the answer for which she had spent hours rehearing, but now, in the heat of its posing, all her careful claims and elisions and pleas fled from her mind. She froze and stared at a tiny smudge on the couch between them.

He let the silence go on. Only after she began to shake did he reach forward, slowly sliding his hoof toward hers. “Dash?”

“Yes,” she blurted. Suddenly, the dam burst, and she could hold nothing back. Everything – Thimble's disastrous summer line, her decision to support it anyway, the mountain of bills the Boutique faced, and the certain insolvency that awaited them – it all poured from her like an undammed river, and he listened in silence for nearly an hour while she spilled out her heart.

At last, she finished, her throat sore and her eyes burning. Silence followed, and she looked up from her hooves to see him studying his wine glass.

“Looking Glass?” she ventured softly.

He nodded. “How much?”

She gulped. “Eight thousand bits.”

“Is that all?” A small smile appeared on his lips, and his barrel shook with a suppressed chuckle. “Dash, I can name a dozen banks that would happily float you that kind of—“

“A month,” she interrupted. “For at least six months.”

His mouth clomped shut, and silence again regained the floor.

“Ah,” he finally said. “Well, now I see why you wrote to me, instead of a bank.”

She licked her lips, and when she spoke, her voice cracked. “I didn't know who else to turn to. None of my friends back home have that sort of cash, and even if they did, how could I ask them? I'm Generosity, Looking Glass. Do you know what that's meant my whole life? Giving to other ponies, always sacrificing for them. If I went back and asked them... no, begged them for... for bits,” she spat the word out, the first heat to enter her voice all evening, “they would never look at me the same again. I can't do that.”

“Hm.” He looked as though he barely heard her, his head turned to the side and a small frown on his face. “And, if I were to provide a business loan, what kind of terms would you be able to offer?”

An invisible, fathomless weight seemed to lift from her shoulders. For a moment Rainbow Dash felt like a pegasus, about to float into the air. She took a deep, heady breath, and launched into a well-rehearsed offer. “I can offer you ten percent per annum on each monthly tranche. I expect full repayment within one year, but we can renegotiate if the market is soft. Regardless, these funds will ensure we remain afloat – you will get your money back, Looking Glass. I promise it. Worst case, your loan gives us time to execute an orderly dissolution of the business instead of a fire sale, and you'll be the first creditor in line.”

“Oh, I doubt that will be necessary.” He waved a hoof, as if shooing off a fly. “I've seen your designs, Rainbow. I know you'll recover from this, and you'll be good for the bits. You might want to reconsider betting everything on your apprentices' work, though.”

“Ah, ha, yes.” She took a long swallow from her wine, finishing off the glass. “Needless to say, I'll be exercising a tighter rein on the Boutique from here on out.”

“And you'll do much better for it, I'm sure.” He finished off his own glass and set it on the table, and then turned back to her. His cornflower eyes were wide and intense, the look she remembered from their first nights togther.

“So, ah...” Dash averted her eyes. “Would you... would you care for some more wine?”

He scooted across the couch, closing the distance between them. “No, I don't think so.” His head dipped toward her, and he drew in a deep breath through his nostrils.

Dash suddenly wished she'd skipped the perfume. “Yes, well...” She realized her mouth was dry, despite the wine, and swallowed several times. “I very grateful, Looking Glass. For your help. I'm... I'm grateful,” she finished with a whisper.

He drew his muzzle up the side of her neck and pressed his cheek against hers. “I know you are, Rainbow Dash. I know.”

Oh gods, Dash, I wanted to run,Rarity whispered in her mind. To just get up and leave. But how could I?

Dash realized her hooves were shaking, and pressed them into the couch to stop. Her chest trembled, though, and she knew he could feel it. “I, uh... You and Terrazzo...”

Whatever she'd been about to say, he ignored it. “I'd forgotten how wonderful you smell,” he whispered in her ear. “Celestia, Dash, do you know how many times I've dreamed of seeing you again? I promise, you won't regret this.”

And she didn't, of course. Regret was for ponies who couldn't make the appropriate sacrifices. She repeated that to herself, mantra-like, as she followed him into the suite's bedroom. Up onto the bed she climbed, ignoring the affront of his muzzle as he pressed it against her flanks, and then shoved it beneath her tail. She winced at the sudden contact but kept her mouth sealed.

He wasn't, apparently, in the mood to wait. Barely had she lowered herself onto the covers when she felt him climb atop her, his forelegs gripping her shoulders and his teeth fastening themselves in her mane.

He wasn't as gentle as the last time.

And why should he have been? Rarity's voice sounded in her mind, even as Dash grunted beneath him. It wasn't painful, but neither was it the joyous union of two bodies. He thrust, and she accepted. He paid enough for this. He had every right to treat me however he wanted.

It was over blessedly soon. Looking Glass gave a final thrust that rattled Dash's teeth, gripped her tight with all his might, and then slid off her back onto the covers beside her. She wormed her way out of his legs and trembled on the empty half of the bed.

It should have been worth it. Rarity again. It should have been worth it, Dash.

Looking Glass laughed quietly in the silence. “Oh, that was... well, nothing I ever thought I'd get again.” He leaned over to nuzzle her mane. “More?”

“Of course,” she whispered. “Of course.”

* * *

Looking Glass slept in late the next morning.

Rainbow Dash did not. In fact, she had not slept at all. Through the long night she stared out the huge picture window at the Fillydelphia skyline, watching as the lights slowly went out, and then, many hours later, as the grey tint of dawn slowly devoured the stars.

She had a lot to think about. Oddly, though, her mind kept circling back to the silliest of details from their long night of lovemaking.

No, that was not lovemaking. Nothing about it was love. It was rutting. Fucking.

The sides of her neck were covered with welts from his teeth. Her coat was filthy with his emissions. One particular stain smeared her flank, covering part of her cutie mark. She didn't care to dwell on that symbolism.

No, what she kept remembering was the orgasm. Only one, toward the end of their night, but unforgettable for all that it was weak and unremarkable. Looking Glass had just finished himself in her again, and he nipped her ear as he pulled out, and that was enough to tip her over the edge.

So, not only was she a whore, she was a whore who enjoyed servicing her stallion. Who came doing it. The kind of whore who sweated and moaned and welcomed her stallion with open legs.

Looking Glass stirred beside her. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.

“Mmm. Morning.” His soft lips pressed against the back of her neck. “Sleep well?”

“Yes,” Dash whispered.

“So did I. So did I.” He was grinning – she could hear it in his voice. “Go back to sleep if you want. I'll go and settle accounts with the front desk.”

Another thing she was worth – the cost of a hotel room. She bobbed her head.

“So, next week, same time?”

She crushed her eyes shut. Eight-thousand bits per month, plus another five hundred per week for the penthouse suite. That was ten-thousand bits and some change being spent on her. Nearly twenty-five hundred per session.

How many whores make over two thousand bits a night? Not many, I'd wager. Rarity's voice sounded shockingly blase about about the situation. I wouldn't have paid that much for me, but then, I'm not rich. But let's be honest, darling – I'm not worth that much, just my cunt.

“Next week,” she whispered.

“Wonderful.” His lips brushed her mane, and then he was gone. She heard the door close behind him.

At last, she wept.

The Gift of the Magi, part 3

Rainbow Dash set her bags down at the foot of the hotel bed and let out a quiet breath.

A few feet away, beside the room's other bed, Chinook's ears twitched. “Everything alright?” she asked. Her own belongings – uniforms, mostly, but a few toiletries and personal effects – were spread out on the covers, as if she were preparing for an inspection. She even had a tin of hoof polish.

Funny question, that. “Everything alright?” It and its cousins, “How do you feel?” or “Are you okay?” were probably the most common expressions she'd heard lately. They'd become automatic, like waving to a pony on the street. She barely went twenty minutes any more without running across them.

Despite her mood, Dash smiled at the sight of Chinook's bed. She remembered her first time travelling with the team, and how she had packed two of every item, just in case she lost a mane clip, or somepony on the team forgot their toothbrush, she could pull out a spare and be the team's hero. A silly, foalish thought, but sometimes her mind worked that way.

And, apparently, Chinook's. Dash limped over to her and peered at the array on the bed. In addition to her Wonder Bolts dress uniform, her flight uniform, a back-up flight uniform, a third flight uniform, and a set of off-duty fatigues, Chinook had brought a set of cold-weather survival gear. To Las Pegasus. In June. “Do you really think you'll need the thermals, Chi-chi?”

Chinook ducked, and a light flush showed through her sea-green coat. Not just on her cheeks – Chinook was one of those mares who blushed with her whole body, and it had become a team sport to see how often and how publicly they could embarrass her. “They were on the list!” she protested.

Dash chuckled. It was a rare sound from her these days, and Chinook's ears twitched again at the sound. “Chi-chi, there's a lot of shit on the list. But when we're on the road, we use big-filly rules. You're responsible for yourself – if you don't think you'll need cold-weather gear in the desert in the summer, you can leave it at home.”

“Oh.” Chinook's ears drooped as she reconsidered the spread of equipment on her bed. Her ears were huge and expressive – Cloud Fire had called them cat-ears once, when they were drunk after a show, and now Dash could never get the image out of her head when she looked at Chinook. “So, what did you bring?”

Dash wandered back to her bed and climbed onto it clumsily. Her left foreleg was still in a metal brace, though thankfully one that was much smaller than the massive plaster cast she'd worn for two months. She could even take it off at night. “Just the dress uniform and some toiletries.”

“That's it?”

“Yeah, we're in the middle of a city. If I forgot something, I can just go buy it down the street.”

Chinook gave the mess on her bed a grumpy look. “Well, huh. Wish I'd thought of that.”

“Meh, it's your first show.” Dash curled three of her legs beneath her, leaving her injured foreleg stretched out. “Everypony does it.”

“Even you?”

“Yup. So, excited?”

“Nervous.” Chinook fluffed her wings, as though she wanted to take off right there. “I, uh... I just hope we're able to fly as well as you did.” A pause. “As you do, I mean.”

“Yeah.” Dash cleared her throat and turned to look out the window. They were near the top floor, as was customary for pegasi, and outside the vast expanse of Las Pegasus stretched away into the hazy distance. “You'll do fine. Cirrus too.”

Chinook didn't respond, and they lapsed into silence. Rainbow Dash lost track of time, staring out the window, watching the sun creep across the sky and the clouds paint huge shadows across the earth. It was like flying, except completely different.

“This was after the accident, I take it?” Rarity's voice, soft as a cloud, came from just inches away.

“About two months after, I think,” Dash said. She felt Rarity's warm presence at her side, and could smell the faint perfume she always wore, teasing the air. “Our first show after we resumed operations. Chinook and Cirrus were part of the reserve team and got called up when it was clear I wasn't returning to flight anytime soon.”

“They called up two ponies to replace you?”

“No, Chinook replaced me. Cirrus replaced Soarin.”

“Ah.” Rarity fell silent for several moments. “Of course, I'm sorry.”

Dash flicked her tail, brushing it against Rarity's side. “Don't be.”

“What kind of pony would I be if I was not sorry for a friend's loss? Especially a friend like you.” Rarity pressed her muzzle into Dash's neck, the kind of nuzzle that a parent might give a foal. Soft, reassuring, and quite welcome.

Dash sighed and leaned her weight against Rarity's side. She tried to remember that this Rarity was an imposter, a beautiful and awful monster poisoning her friend's mind. But in that moment she was simply a soft and warm anchor against the cold, uncaring world.

“Can we just stay here?” Dash whispered. Outside the window, the gentle wind pushed the clouds across the brilliant blue sky.

“I'm sorry, darling.” Rarity's muzzle brushed against the top of Dash's head. “There are other dreams to see.”

“Alright.” Dash closed her eyes. “Can we just wait here a few more—”

* * *

Rainbow Dash was measuring a bolt of fabric when she heard the bell above the Boutique door ring. The heavy hoofsteps of her apprentice, Thimble, shortly followed, and she heard the quiet mumble of polite conversation through the workroom door.

Business had been good, lately. Thanks to Looking Glass's funds, they'd managed to completely restock after the summer's disaster, and now the fall line of semi-formal wear, scarves and hats was selling briskly. Just as she'd expected, bright primaries, especially reds, were all the rage, and once again her trademark triple-diamond logo was headlining the city's premier shows. In a few months, she'd have the last of her outstanding debts settled, and she could start paying back the principle on Looking Glass's loans.

She still met with him once a week – how could she not? Though never stated outright, their quid-pro-quo remained in effect: one night a week, in the city's most expensive penthouse, her body was his. Whatever of it he desired, she gave, and she gave willingly. Eagerly.

Dash no longer pretended not to enjoy it, either. Sex was sex, and sex with Looking Glass had always been a pleasure, at least when she wasn't obsessing over what was really going on. When she didn't think about the bank note for eight thousand bits that appeared in her mailbox once a month, signed with a lithograph of his cutie mark, a hummingbird staring at its own reflection.

So, no, she didn't think about that part. She just enjoyed the sex, and enjoyed the fact that her business was once again in the black. That was all that mattered.

Whore.

Thus it was that the sound of another customer walking through the door on a Tuesday afternoon aroused no particular interest. She rarely met with customers face to face – she had apprentices for that, and unless somepony wanted to order a bespoke item, Thimble and Weave were more than able to assist most customers. So she continued her measuring, making an occasional mark on the sheer crimson fabric, until her door cracked open, and Thimble's head poked through.

“Miss Dash? There's a customer who would like to speak with you.”

“Oh?” She tucked her grease pencil behind her ear, the only place she never seemed to lose it. “Tell her I'll be right out.”

“She asked to speak in private, actually.”

Again, nothing unusual. Many mares prefered to discuss their measurements in private. “Of course. Please ask her to join me.” There was no need to tidy up the workroom – this was her space, and she kept it immaculate.

Thimble bobbed her head and vanished out the door. Dash heard the faint mumble of conversation while she replaced the bolt of fabric back on its rack, and she turned in time to see a middle-aged pegasus mare step through the door.

Her coat was dappled, which was rare enough to stand out in a crowd, and Rainbow Dash couldn't help but start imagining different color schemes that would take advantage of her coat. The preponderance of it was a dark blue, but speckles of azure and aquamarine covered her legs and extended up her chest and down her barrel, growing fainter as they went, until they vanished around her flanks. Her wings were banded as well, mostly the same dark blue as her coat, but interspaced with the occasional vibrant feather.

Unusual. Dash wondered if she were a model, but immediately discarded the thought. The mare's face was refined, and she wore a calm expression, but she lacked the otherworldly beauty that models aspired to. She was handsome for her age, yes, and her coat would turn more than a few heads, but not quite enough for a professional.

So, just a customer, then. Dash smiled and stepped across the room toward her. “Good afternoon, ma'am, I'm Rainbow Dash. How can I help you today?”

The mare didn't answer immediately. Instead she looked around the room, her eyes taking in its various projects, some ready for the showroom, others in various stages of completion. She stopped at one particular piece, a formal gown composed of sheer black fabric dressed upon a mannequin. It was one of Dash's better pieces, a custom work for a friend of Cinnabar's, and when it was done it would go a long way toward paying off her debts.

“You d-designed this?” she asked, a faint, almost unheard stutter in her voice. Some lingering verbal tick from her foalhood, perhaps. She stepped toward the mannequin and carefully ran the back of her hoof along the gown's collar.

“I did.” Dash couldn't help the smile as she stepped up beside the mare. “I'm afraid it's already spoken for, however. If you'd like something similar, though, I might be able to help you. Though, I would suggest a different color scheme to compliment your coat, which I must say, darling, is quite striking. Perhaps a nice, bright red, to contrast with all the blues you have going on?”

“Hm.” The mare sounded unimpressed with Dash's suggestion. “Perhaps. I hear that a lot, you know. How st-striking or exotic or special my coat is, like I designed it myself. And it's a pain to find even simple clothes for.”

“Well, no one said beauty should be easy.” Dash tossed her head, flicking her mane's indigo ringlets to the other side of her neck. “You sound like you know something about fashion.”

The mare smiled. Something about the expression seemed thin, though, as though it were about to crack. The lines around her eyes drew tighter. “It's, it's important in the circles I travel. You understand, I'm sure.”

“Of course, of course.” Dash stepped back to her work table, and cleared it with her magic, leaving a blank canvas upon which to plan. “Would you like some water, or perhaps some tea?”

“No, thank you.”

Silence followed.

Dash waited as long as she could, until the pause became uncomfortable. Perhaps this mare wasn't used to social situations, or that slight stutter made her shy with conversations. Or perhaps she really liked that black dress.

“So, ah...” Dash cleared her throat. “What would you be interested in, ma'am? And what would you like me to call you?”

The mare turned at that, and Dash noticed now the expression in her eyes. It was carefully hidden, but now that she stared directly at her there was no missing it – anger, and pain. She walked up to the table, her wings quivering at her sides.

“My name,” she said, “is T-Terrazzo. And I would like you to stop sleeping with my husband.”

Time seemed to stop. Her heart actually did stop, missing a full beat in the shock that followed the mare's words. A terrible, constricting pressure crushed her chest, and for a panic-filled moment Rainbow Dash wondered if it were really possible for a mare her age to die of fright. Her vision grew grey around the edges, and her head felt light as a feather, as though it were about to drift away.

She closed her eyes and forced her lungs to work. Her heart thudded back to life, racing now in an apparent attempt to make up for all the blood it had missed over the past few seconds. A cold sweat broke out all over her body, soaking her coat, and she knew without having to gaze in the mirror that her lips were as grey and colorless as wet cotton.

“Terrazzo...” she said. The name came out in a rush, more of an exhalation than real speech. “You are Terrazzo.”

“I am.” Terrazzo's eyes narrowed, as if distrusting Dash's reaction, and then she snorted. “Don't tell me you didn't know Looking Glass was married.”

“No, I ahh...” Dash turned away, resting her hooves on the table for support. The nice, sturdy table that kept the room steady. She leaned against it and sucked in another deep breath, making sure to count slowly as she exhaled. She was not going to be sick. She was not going to be sick. She could fix this.

When she looked up, Terrazzo was still staring at her.

Lie? Bend the truth? Honesty? A million options spun through Dash's head, none of them focused beyond the next five minutes, beyond surviving this mare's wrath and getting her out of the Boutique without causing a scene. Thank Celestia they were in private, at least. Maybe Terrazzo didn't want a scene either.

She could do this. Dash closed her eyes, feigning a moment of weakness – well, not feigning, perhaps – and imagining an expression on her face. One of shock, which was easy, and a little bit of a lie. A little bit of confusion.

“He told me he was married,” she said, when she felt the expression fitting her face like a mask. “But he said you two were separated. That your marriage wasn't about love, just appearances. Terrazzo, believe me, I had no idea he was hurting you.”

“Of course, of course, he would say that,” Terrazzo mumbled half to herself. She turned away as she spoke, inspecting the rest of Dash's workshop. “Celestia damn-damn that stallion, lying. Let me guess, you were angry with him when you first found out?”

“I was!” Dash leapt for the nuggest of truth like a drowning mare reaching for a life preserver. “Terrazzo, when I found out, I cut him off. I did! It was months before I could even look at him again.”

Terrazzo's ears flicked at that, and her head whipped around to stare at Dash. The movement was fidgety and abrupt, more like a real bird than even most pegasi Dash was used to dealing with. “Why did you, then?”

That... that was not a question Dash could answer. Not truthfully, at least – she could barely admit to herself that she was a whore, selling her cunt to Looking Glass for eight thousand bits a month. There was no way on heaven or earth she could admit it to a near-stranger like Terrazzo.

“That's... that's when he told me! That you were separated!” Dash said. It seemed perfect, she could even feel herself starting to believe it. Hadn't Looking Glass said his marriage was a sham? That was similar to being separated, figuratively if not legally speaking. She'd done nothing wrong.

Well, except for the part where you're a whore. But let's focus on the marriage you've been ruining.

“And that was all it took?” The sneer on Terrazzo's face hurt Dash worse than being whipped. “You just bounced b-back into his b-bed? Maybe hoping for a nice trinket or two?”

Oh, no. No no no no no. Dash shook her head, and only stopped when the curls of her mane actually whipped her in the face. “Terrazzo, that is not, that is not the kind of pony I am! You must know how Looking Glass is, he's suave and charming and yes, maybe I have been a silly filly with stars in my eyes, but you must believe me, you must believe me that I never, ever intended to hurt anypony. If I had known the truth, I'd have called off the whole thing, and never seen him again.”

“And? Will you?”

“Will I?” Dash blinked, and then the actual substance of her own words caught up with her. “Oh, I mean, of course I would. I will! I will... I will write him a letter, right now, and break everything off! I will tell him what a terrible pony he is, to cheat on a mare as lovely and kind and understanding as you are, and that will be it! We will never see each other again. You have my word, Terrazzo.”

“Your word.”

“Yes! Terrazzo, I know we can never be friends, but I am not a bad pony. I don't want to hurt anypony, and he'll just have to understand that.”

Terrazzo was silent after that. She stared at Dash, her wings and ears occasionally twitching, and Dash could practically see the thoughts whipping through her mind. Dash hunched down, waiting for the explosion.

None came. When Terrazzo spoke, her voice was soft, and each word seemed to catch in her throat.

“This marriage is all I have left.” It was a brittle voice, from a mare on the verge of breaking herself. “I've give-given him everything, every bit of my life I have poured into our partnership, and this is how he repays me. He... He left me to find some young, beautifully filly, lied to her about our sacred b-bond, lied to me about why he always travels to Fillydelphia, and now I see why. You really are beautiful, D-Dash. No wonder he wanted you.”

“Terrazzo, please—“

“Do you want money? I can give you that, that.”

“I meant it!” Dash leaned forward, crouching at Terrazzo's feet. “You don't need to give me anything, Terrazzo. He will never see me again, and if he tries, I will buck him in the face! It is over!”

“You're lying.”

“I'm not!” Dash tried to say more, but for some reason couldn't catch her breath. All she could do was pant, desperate for air. “It's over, it's over,” she finally managed.

“Hmph.” Terrazzo frowned down at her, and then turned with a snort. “I p-pray for all of us that it is, Rainbow Dash.”

She let herself out.

It was some time before Dash could pick herself up from the floor. The shock wore off a few minutes after Terrazzo's departure, and the numbing cold in her chest vanished, swept away by a hot anger. Her eyes burned, and she wiped away the tears before they could leave tracks down her muzzle.

Damn him! Damn her! Dash grabbed a bolt of cloth with her magic and yanked it toward her. She unwound it, flinging it around the room, and grabbed a huge mouthful to muffle her screams. She yelled into it until her chest hurt and her eyes felt ready to burst from her head, and then she yelled some more.

Are you honestly upset? How did you expect your little affair to end? A hoofshake and kiss on the cheek?

“I'm just... I'm just trying to help everypony,” she whispered. Thimble, Weave, they needed her to be strong, to keep the Boutique running. That's why she was doing it.

There were two months left in her agreement with Looking Glass. Sixteen thousand more bits that she needed, regardless of how well the Boutique was doing. She couldn't risk everypony's welfare just for one mare's pride.

What about your pride?

Her pride didn't matter either, if it ever had. She sniffed, trying not to imagine how much of a mess she looked, and used her magic to fix up the shop. The cloth bolt rewound itself, the papers and drawing utensils floated back to their appointed nooks and crannies. She took a pair of long, deep breaths, and stepped out into the showroom, where Thimble and Weaved, bless their innocent hearts, worked with smiles on their faces.

Terrazzo would just have to wait a few more months to get her husband back.

* * *

Dash landed badly, her legs folding like wet straws and sending her skidding across the cold, gritty mud on her belly. She scrambled to a stop, barely avoiding a mouthful of the foul muck, and shook her head to clear away the cobwebs that fogged her mind.

Funny, she didn't remember flying.

She pushed herself onto her hooves with a grunt and scraped off as much of the mud as she could. She didn't mind mud, most days, but she never, never missed a landing, and the muddy streak down her neck and chest was a signpost for anypony who happened by that she'd planted her face in the dirt.

Except... no pony seemed to be around. She was in Ponyville, that much she could tell, but the streets were deserted and the only sound was the low whistle of the wind along the rooftops. The skies were sick with clouds, low and dour and green, filled with ice and churning madly, waiting to spill their fury on the world below. Her wings drew in, and she ducked her head reflexively, already anticipating the sting of hail. Even small hail could tear up a pegasus's feathers, and the larger chunks could knock a pony senseless and send them tumbling to the earth and death. Hail was dangerous stuff – no pony messed with it, or even went near it if they had a choice.

So, shelter. She turned and jerked to a sudden halt at the sight before her.

The Carousel Boutique was not ten paces away, but it was not the boutique Dash remembered. Its white walls were stained by age and neglect, with warped, greying timbers showing through the paint like rotting teeth. The colorful pennants were no more; tatters of faded cloth whipped madly in the wind, and as she watched a shred of one tore away, vanishing down the street like a bird taking flight.

The windows were empty. Shards of glass poked out of the weeds lining the boutique, and inside the house was only darkness. Nopony seemed to be home.

“It's just a dream,” she mumbled. “None of this is real. It's just a dream.”

She stopped at the door. It was pristine, as perfect as she remembered. The paint had not faded, the wood had not cracked, and the brass knocker and handle were perfect and untarnished. It was like a piece of the wrong puzzle, jammed into the hollows of her mind.

She shook her head, and when she looked again, the door was gone. Only the torn lintel remained, and the dark void beyond.

It's only a dream. It's only a dream. She held her breath as she stepped across the tattered threshold and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the Boutique.

The place was in ruins. If Rarity – the real Rarity, not the monster stalking this dream – could have seen it, she'd have shrieked. The tasteful furniture she used to entertain guests or customers was in flinders, strewn about the room and mixed with the torn remains of a dozen dresses. A headless mannequin, still wrapped in a crimson scarf, leaned precariously against the stairway banister. Half of the coffee table protruded from the wall. The carpet beneath her hooves was torn and uprooted, exposing the bare wood beneath. It looked as if nopony had been home for years. Perhaps decades.

“Rarity?” she called. “It's Dash.”

Something shifted upstairs. Plaster dust rained down from the ceiling, and she felt her wings flex, instinctively preparing for a quick escape. She forced them back to her side and called again. “Rarity?”

For the longest time, there was no answer, only the rush of the wind outside and the creak of the boutique's feeble, ancient structure. Minutes passed while she waited, minutes or hours, she couldn't quite be sure.

At last, as she knew would happen, Rarity responded. “In here,” a voice called from the kitchen. It ended timidly, and Dash could imagine the silent 'darling' appended to the end, a wish more than a word.

Rarity waited for her at the table. In the sickly green light leaking in from the twilight outside, only Rarity's coat seemed clean and pure. The rest of the kitchen was as much a disaster as the foyer; cabinets blown apart, the sink sunk into a watery crater, and a ceiling that sagged in places like an old pony's skin. The imposter waited for Dash at the table, one leg resting on it, her head in profile as she gazed out the window at the churning storm. She towered over the room, her long horn nearly brushing the rotting, exposed rafters above their heads.

“Hey,” Dash whispered. She walked slowly to the table and hopped up on the remaining seat. It creaked beneath her weight, but held; pegasi, especially mares, were the lightest of ponies.

“I'm glad to see you, Dash. I wish you hadn't come, but I'm glad to see you all the same.” She paused, and a small frown marred her lips. “That doesn't make any sense, does it?”

“No, but I get it.”

“Hm.” She tilted her head, pointing at the window with her chin. “Did you see the storm? It's going to be a big one.”

“Yeah, I saw.” A pause. “Rares, where are we?”

“We're asleep on Sweetie's old bed in the Carousel Boutique. Or we're in Ponyville, after it's been abandoned and consigned to ruins. Or we're in some metaphysical construct created by my sleeping mind, a sort of reflection of my inner self.” She glanced up at the sagging ceiling. “Rather miserable, isn't it?”

“It's seen better days.”

“Better years.” She turned to face Dash, and Dash saw that her left eye was a ruined pit, a dark hole whose borders were smeared red. “I have something for you, Rainbow Dash.”

Please don't be an eyeball. Please don't be an eyeball. Dash fought back the urge to gag. She shivered, but kept her gaze steady on Rarity's intact eye. “What do you have for me?”

“A way out.” Rarity's horn lit with a faint cerulean glow, and a tiny blue star floated from some concealed pouch to land on the table between them. It rocked for a moment, and then Rarity's magic faded, revealing a small gem, about the size of a quail's egg, perfectly spherical, and glimmering in its depths like the ocean at night.

“Twilight was apparently worried after our last adventure with dreamwalking, so she added a safety mechanism to the spell,” Rarity continued. “Break this gem, just like you broke the other, and we will both wake up.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes. I think you've seen enough of my past. You've seen the—” here she paused, “—the inner workings of my mind, as I saw yours. We have achieved a certain parity. We are equally aware of each others' misery.”

“You're being dramatic again.”

“Well.” She turned her head to observe the forlorn boutique and all its ruin. If the missing eye bothered her at all, she didn't show it. “I dare say it's warranted, here.”

A gust of wind slammed into the boutique, shaking the entire structure. The shriek of tortured wood, stretched to its breaking point, grated on Dash's ears.

“You really need better dreams, Rares,” she said, once the wind subsided. “We can... I can help you.”

“These are a whore's dreams, Dash. Whores dream of loss.”

“You are not—“ Dash realized she was standing on the chair, her voice raised to shout. She took a deep breath to calm herself, and settled back onto her haunches. “Don't ever use that word for yourself, Rarity. I don't care what mistakes you made, or what you thought you had to do. You're still the same beautiful, loving, generous mare I remember.”

Rarity was silent for some time. Only the hammer beat of Dash's heart and the wind outside sounded in her ears.

Dash reached a slow hoof across the table. It stopped, just inches from Rarity's leg. “Rarity, please let me—”

“Do you remember what I said? I meant it,” Rarity interrupted, as though Dash hadn't spoken. She reached up to brush her cheek with her ankle, leaving a crimson smear all down her muzzle. “I really meant it. I would happily pluck out my eye if I could go back and fix these mistakes. To have just five minutes with my past self. To warn her. Sometimes, when I'm pretending I'm a brave pony, I dream of giving up both my eyes.”

“Rares, first off, you've always been a brave pony. Second, you're being silly.” Little about their situation seemed silly, though; the abandoned Boutique creaked in the wind, and upstairs she heard something tumble to the floor with a loud crash of breaking glass. The shutters banged against the windows as if they wanted to batter their way in, and Dash had to raise her voice to be heard over them. “All this, it's just your mind caught up on a little mistake and blown out of proportion. Way, way out of proportion.”

“I can see why you would believe that,” Rarity said. She rolled the ocean sapphire idly under her hoof, briefly extinguishing its light and plunging the room back into night. “Just another mare sleeping with a married stallion. Just another whore. It must happen a thousand times every day. Why should my sin be any different, hm?”

“Er.” That wasn't exactly what Dash meant. Not the sin part, at least. “I... yeah, I guess. You don't have anything to be ashamed of, Rarity. Not anymore. You can let this go.”

The wind howled again, and a terrible, splintering roar stole away Dash's hearing. The boutique quaked, as though a giant had smashed it with her hoof, and from the stairway leading to the second floor came a sudden blast of air and rain. Pieces of what must have once been the upstairs spilled down in a mess of sodden wreckage, and the damp puddles around Dash's hooves slowly began to rise.

“None of us can let go of the past, Dash,” Rarity said. Her face was turned away, to the outside window, and though she spoke softly, Dash could hear her as clearly as if they were in Twilight's old library. “You cannot let go of Soarin's memory, and I cannot let go of...” Her mouth snapped shut with a sudden clack of teeth, and she turned to the ocean sapphire sparkling on the table between them. “Well, let go of this.”

“Let go of what, Rarity?” Dash had to shout over the roaring winds to be heard. She braced herself against the table, and mantled her wings around her head to block out the knifing rain that blasted in through the cracks in the Boutique's floundering walls.

“I cannot tell you, Dash. This is a dream – you can only watch. And again, I beg you, don't.” She gave the ocean sapphire a little tap, sending it rolling across the table toward Dash.

Dash squinted against the furious winds. The air around them was filled with flying debris, some of it sharp enough to draw blood when it struck her. She ignored the pains and focused on the perfect round gem. It would crack in her teeth, she knew, and smell like junipers.

“I'm sorry, Rares. I can't.” Dash tapped the sapphire with her hoof, sending it back toward Rarity. It rolled to the edge of the table, teetered there, and then plunged over, vanishing with a soundless splash into the deepening water beneath them.

Rarity nodded. “I didn't think so.” She had to yell now as well, to be heard over the demolition of the boutique. The walls began to bend; huge cracks appeared in them, and in spilled the storm's tempestuous, sickening light. The very floor shifted beneath Dash, as if it were no longer fully moored to the ground. “I'm sorry, Dash. I'm sorry about everything, and I'm sorry I couldn't tell you before.”

“It's okay, Rares.” Dash leaned over the table to shout in Rarity's ear. “It's like you said, I have to watch it.”

“No, not that.” Rarity shook her head. The spitting rain leaking in through the cracked walls smeared the crimson stain on her muzzle and washed pink tears from the hollow socket of her left eye. “I never said I loved—”

There was a deafening shriek as the last of the boutique's structure failed, and wood beams and plaster and curtains and shingles and everything that makes a home tore apart and collapsed and lifted away, carried by the wind into the raging storm and the everlasting night. Inside, two ponies broke as well, and Dash wished, for just a moment before the agony became complete, that she had used the gem and woken up instead.

But the gem was gone, and only the dream remained.

* * *

Rainbow Dash was already awake when the sun poked its head over the horizon.

It was technically fall now, several days past the autumnal equinox, but the air was still fair and balmy, and even at night in Fillydelphia it was warm enough for ponies to venture outside without any coats or scarves. But every few hours outside, the wind would blow just so, and brush ponies' coats with a cool kiss, a promise and a warning of things to come. Celestia's season had ended, and now the world drifted away from the sun, toward the long winter night.

So, business at the Boutique was brisk.

None of that was in Dash's mind at the moment, though. The Boutique was miles away, in the city's fashion and garment district, not the posh business quarter where dwelled the High Step Hotel and its fantastically expensive penthouse suite, from whose vast picture windows she gazed out at the waking world. It was going to be a clear day, she saw; only a few dark smudges of cloud marred the azure-perfect dawn sky.

Beautiful, isn't it? An honest beauty that doesn't pretend to be something else. If nature were a pony, she would always be naked, and we would worship her for it.

Dash let out a quiet breath. Behind her, curled up against her back, Looking Glass mumbled something in his sleep and pulled her closer. His warm breath tickled the hairs of her mane.

She tried to remember if he had any appointments scheduled in other cities. Sometimes he rose early after their nights together, catching the first train to Manehattan or Canterlot. Other days, when nothing pressing was on his plate, they would lounge in bed for hours, until the maids came by to clean the room. They might catch a late breakfast, then, or walk around the bustling city, always buzzing with ponies even on a Saturday. She didn't mind spending the extra time with him – for eight thousand bits a month, he had more than earned it.

Only three weeks remained until his final payment would arrive in her accounts, and then... well, then things would become complicated. She would transition from earning his money to owing him money, which was a somewhat better position to be in, but still precarious. And there was always the matter of Terrazzo, who presumably wouldn't be too happy if she knew Dash was still fucking her husband.

A lot to think about, isn't it? It could always be worse, though – you could be a cheap whore. Oh, and speaking of precarious positions, last night was truly impressive. How did you manage to balance—

Dash curled her legs tighter against her barrel. The motion was enough to disturb her bedmate, and she felt him stir.

“Mm.” He pushed his muzzle into her mane and drew in a deep breath. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” she whispered.

“Sleep well?”

“Of course.” She ran a hoof along the length of his leg. “You just woke me up, in fact.”

“Sorry.” He gave her ear a little nip by way of apology, and his legs unwound themselves from around her body. The mattress shifted as he climbed out of the bed. “Go back to sleep if you want, I'm going to grab a shower.”

She didn't answer, but she knew him well enough to know that no reply was expected. Instead she hooked the covers with her ankle and pulled them up over her shoulder, as though to make up for the lost warmth of his body pressed against hers. It was an act, of course, but it was a well-practiced one, and she knew it would kindle a small amount of satisfaction in his chest.

Quite the actor. Once you master fake orgasms, you'll be able to give any whore in the city a run for her money.

Alone, at last, Dash let her eyes drift shut. She'd managed a few hours of sleep last night, but as always it was fitful. A few more minutes before she had to get up and stumble into her own shower would be just about the greatest thing in the world, and she yawned so wide that her jaw actually popped. She worked it a few times, and let her head sink back into the pillow. The wonderful, soft pillow. Probably an expensive pillow, but now that the Boutique was back on its feet, she could afford nice things like it. She would have to check for a label before she left.

That silly thought caught in her mind, the way thoughts sometimes do on the horizon of sleep, and it tumbled around as she sank further and further away from the waking world. Just when she was nearly gone, the room suddenly darkened, as if a cloud had passed across the sun. It was enough to crack open her eyes.

Outside the window, her hooves balanced on the inches-wide concrete sill like a bird, stood a pegasus mare, her wings beating fitfully to hold her in place. Her face was pressed up against the glass, and Dash could see her wild eyes were wide, straining, the whites fully exposed around the irises.

Her gaze was like an arrow into Dash's chest. She shrieked and tried to jump onto her hooves, but her legs tangled in the covers, and all she managed to do was tumble out of the bed in a panic. She kicked at them frantically and managed to stand, her heart thudding in her chest like a jackhammer.

The pegasus on the far side of the glass tracked Dash's stumbling progress. Dash could see her colors, now; blue, mostly, with speckles of teal and green, sparkling like gems in the morning sun. But their beauty was gone – her coat was matted and marred with dirt, and her long mane filled with tangles. Her wings were not sleek and smooth, but ratty like a pigeon's, with stray feathers poking out at odd angles.

Dash barely noticed these things – her eyes were locked on Terrazzo's own, and in them she saw betrayal, and pain, and a hint of something else. Something that looked determined.

Before Dash could scream again, Terrazzo's wings flashed, and she was gone. She found herself alone, staring out at the beautiful sunrise, gasping for breath.

“Dash? Is everything alright?” She heard the shower stop, and the bathroom door creaked open. “I thought I heard something.”

“Yes, yes, everything's fine.” It was, perhaps, the worst lie Dash had ever told. She could hear the panic in her voice. “I... I have to go!”

“Wait, what's...” Looking Glass's voice was lost as Dash stumbled out the penthouse door, into the hotel hallway. It was still empty this early, though newspapers were already set out in front of each room. She galloped down the corridor to the elevators and mashed the 'down' button with her hoof. The damn thing took forever to arrive, at least ten seconds, and she dove in as soon as the doors opened wide enough to accept her slender form.

“Oh Celestia, oh Celestia,” she mumbled. They were forty floors up, and it took well over a minute to reach the ground level. For all she knew, Terrazzo might already be in the lobby waiting for her. She had a scarf in her bag, still up in the room, and she cursed herself for running away without it.

Well, no time to go back. Dash poked her head out the door as it opened – the lobby was empty, except for the hotel staff and some tasteful potted plants. She wondered, idly, if they were heavy enough to use as a weapon.

She made it through the lobby without being accosted by a crazed pegasus, and moments later was outside on the sidewalk. Here, at least, she felt safe – dozens of ponies were already up and about, and almost all of them were unicorns. If she kept her head down, she could blend into the crowd long enough to get in a cab. As for later, when Terrazzo would inevitably track her back to the Boutique... well, she could figure something out.

Dash was wondering what the process was for filing a restraining order when an odd sound caught her ears. All around her, ponies had stopped in their tracks and were looking up. A few pointed with a hoof, high overhead. Dash followed their gazes, and once again her heart nearly froze.

Forty stories above the streets, a bright blue spark leaned over the edge of the High Step Hotel. Pegasi weren't uncommon in Fillydelphia, but they rarely flew so high, much less perched upon the edges of skyscrapers. It was uncommon enough to turn a few heads. For Dash, it was instead the sight of a hawk searching for its prey.

The blue shape moved, and turned into a blur streaking toward the ground. Dash cringed and prepared to run. Any second now, those wings would snap open, and Terrazzo would come zooming toward her. She was caught.

Faster, Terrazzo fell. Past the thirtieth floor, then the twentieth.

Then the tenth, the fifth. The last. Her wings never opened.

Ponies screamed, and there was a rush away from the sidewalk in front of the lobby doors. Dash caught a glimpse of something blue smeared with a brilliant red, and then the world turned sideways, and she felt the hard asphalt against her cheek.

She remembered nothing else from that terrible day.

Nepenthe

It was still dark when Rarity opened her eyes.

The right side of her face ached, a bloated knot of pain that flared with every beat of her heart. A hot metal taste in her mouth hinted at the cause, and she carefully ran her tongue along her teeth. There was a gap between two molars, just below her cheekbone, and she let the tip of her tongue linger there. The gums had long since healed, and it was only in moments of thoughtless repose, like now, that she remembered there had once been a tooth there at all.

The pain faded, and with it the taste of blood. She opened and closed her jaw a few times, just to make sure, but whatever phantom had resurrected her injuries was gone.

Just a memory. She let her head fall to the side, finding Rainbow Dash’s sleeping form still beside her. Just a dream.

The pegasus’s chest rose and fell, but the motion was so slow that Rarity nearly missed it. It seemed she took a breath only once a minute, or perhaps even less. Curious, Rarity reached out and placed the flat of her hoof against Rainbow’s side. It was warm, even through the thick coat, and she could feel Dash’s heart beating, its tempo slow and soft, a reassuring metronome that ticked away the night.

Rarity let her head fall back to the mattress, her hoof withdrawing to nestle against her chest as she thought. How often had she lain like this? Half awake, half asleep, drifting in the liminal haze between worlds like a pony struggling to remain afloat in a storm-tossed ocean. The waves crashed over her head, and she felt her eyes close despite all her efforts to remain awake. Her eyelids were millstones, impossibly heavy, and she let herself surrender to the night’s gentle undertow.

Even so, she was not dead to the world. She could feel the soft covers beneath her and the heat radiating from Dash’s body. She could smell the cotton sheets and the faint tang of ozone and sweat that marked Dash’s presence. She smelled two types of feathers -- the bleached, faintly feral down that filled her pillow, and the dusty, musty bite of pegasus wings. Together the scents combined into a single fragrance, a bouquet she unconsciously associated with sleeping in a fancy bed with a friend. She wriggled closer to Dash’s sprawled form, buried her muzzle in the coat between Dash’s wings and drew in a deep breath. It flooded her mind, and she held it in her lungs, struggling to remember in her befuddled state when last she had felt so safe.

Please let this last forever.

It couldn’t, of course, but perhaps Luna heard her prayer, for it lasted longer than she had any right to hope. It lasted what felt like hours, and her world was nothing beyond the soft downy feathers beneath her chin, the radiant warmth against her belly, and the all-pervasive scent of Rainbow Dash coating her mind like an opiate. It lasted until the darkness outside their window began its slow surrender to the dawn, unveiling the horizon and outlining the stark black shapes of trees and roofs against the somber gray sky.

And when it ended, she could think of no better way to have spent what might be her final hours with Rainbow Dash.

Rarity felt the pegasus shift, the warm body drawing away from her by an inch. She opened her eyes and saw that Dash’s were open too, their magenta irises barely visible in the predawn gloom. They gazed at the wall, unmoving except for the occasional blink. If she knew that Rarity was awake and staring at her, she gave no sign of it.

“Hey,” Rarity breathed.

“Hey,” Dash said. She frowned and reached up to her jaw, wincing when it made contact with her hoof. Her mouth worked soundlessly, and she made a face like she tasted something unpleasant.

“My face hurts,” she finally said.

“I know, I think it’s a side-effect of the spell. Give it a moment and it will pass. The taste of blood, too.”

Dash nodded and set her head back on the sheets, but every few seconds she prodded her cheek with her hoof, until after a while her ears stopped flicking away after each touch. She opened and closed her jaw, wrinkled her nose, and turned back to Rarity.

“What happened?” she asked.

“After Terrazzo jumped, I fainted. You remember that?”

“Yeah.” Dash looked away. “That really happened, didn’t it? Those were your memories?”

“They were. As best as I remember them, anyway.” Despite the somber topic, Rarity couldn’t help the faint smile that curved her lips. “Anyway, I struck my cheek on the curb. Cracked one of my molars. The dentist had to remove it.”

“Ah.” Dash studied her face for a long moment. “I can’t tell. It’s not uneven or anything.”

“I know. I had the dentist pull out the same tooth on my left side.”

Dash blinked. It was several seconds before she mouthed a quiet “Oh.”

“It’s fine.” Rarity rolled onto her back. The silver musical staffs and notes painted on the ceiling were a faint glimmer in the darkness. “Nopony’s ever noticed. I think you’re the first mare to know.”

“Doesn’t it, you know, make eating hard?”

“It did at first. Now I’m used to it, I suppose.”

There was a soft rustle, and Rarity felt Dash’s hoof brushing against her cheek. It was tentative at first, softer than a butterfly landing on her ear, but as the seconds passed and Rarity did not shrink away, her courage must have grown, and she gently ran her touch down Rarity’s jaw, below her flickering ear, and finally into her mane.

“Any other hidden wounds?” Dash asked. Her voice hovered just on this side of a whisper.

“None to speak of.”

“Hm.” Dash’s hoof withdrew from her mane, and a moment later Rarity felt it pressed against her breastbone, just above her heart. “Are you sure?”

A while passed before she responded – Dash’s touch was simply too precious to spoil with mere words. “Yes.”

“I think you’re lying. I was in that dream, remember.”

Ah. Rarity closed her eyes and rolled away. “Scars, Rainbow Dash. Not wounds.”

The bed shifted as Dash scooted up behind her. The chill of the night vanished, replaced by a soft coat and gentle warmth. A wing folded over her like a blanket.

“I think those matter too, Rares.”

“Maybe.” Rarity resisted the silly urge to grasp Dash’s wing in her mouth and gnaw on it, like she had with her blankets as a foal. Her friend probably wouldn’t appreciate that. “We’re just beating around the bush, you know.”

“Yeah.” Dash’s breath tickled the back of her neck. “What, ah… what happened? After that, I mean.”

“There was an inquiry. No charges were filed, as nopony could think of any laws we had broken. The tabloids published some of the more salacious rumors to emerge from the investigation, but too many ponies were interested in just smoothing the whole thing over. Looking Glass, obviously, but Terrazzo's family too.”

“Why? I thought they’d want to get back at him.”

“Oh, they did. They tried to ruin his businesses, but he managed to sell his interests off and abscond before they could truly destroy his reputation. Last I heard he was in Las Pegasus.”

“What about you?”

Rarity shrugged, enjoying the feel of Dash’s feathers sliding across her shoulders. “They didn’t care about me. Terrazzo never told anypony that we’d spoken. I was just the other mare, as far as her family was concerned. Not a pony worth their retaliation.”

“Not that I really disagree with their decision, but you’re more than that.”

Rarity rolled over, coming to rest nose-to-nose with Dash. She wrapped her legs around Dash’s and held them tight. “I slept with a stallion for money, Rainbow. What does that make me?”

“I dunno. Desperate? Afraid?”

“Those are just excuses.”

“Yeah, well…” She lapsed into a long silence. “What happened to your shop?”

“We got lucky.” Rarity reached her hoof out to brush down the unruly ruff of fur on Dash’s chest. She must have slept on it, for it poked out rudely from the rest of her coat like a bad case of bed mane. “I never got Looking Glass’s final cheque, of course, but the Boutique survived. Thimble volunteered to work without wages for the season, but fortunately it never came to that.”

Left unsaid were the months Rarity slept on the Boutique’s workroom floor after selling her apartment, or the twenty pounds she lost after Terrazzo’s suicide. The friends she never saw again, or worse, the look on Cinnabar’s face when they caught each other’s eye across a crowded market. The shock of recognition, followed by pity, a flash of anger, and finally scorn. Cinnabar may not have known the whole story behind Terrazzo’s death and Looking Glass’s flight, but she was a smart mare and could fill in the blanks. Rarity doubted she would ever be invited back to one of the mare’s classy dinner parties.

“Oh. Um, if you need, you know, I’ve got some bits saved up. I could share them if it would—”

Rarity placed a light kiss on the tip of Dash’s nose. Just a peck, but it was enough to instantly silence the mare and bring a bright red flush to her cheeks, visible even in the predawn gloom. “That’s very sweet of you, but it’s not necessary. I’m back to solvency and in no danger of running out of funds. I even have Looking Glass’s bits waiting in an account, plus two years worth of interest, should he ever show up at my door.”

Dash was silent for a while. Her eyes were crossed, staring down the bridge of her nose, and only slowly did her ears cease their frantic twitching. “You… wait, you’re going to pay him back?”

“Of course. That was our agreement.”

“But…” She trailed off, her mouth opening and closing like a beached fish. Eventually she rallied and nailed Rarity with an intense stare. “He doesn’t deserve it back! Not after all the pain he caused!”

“None of us deserved what happened, Dash. That’s just life. But if I can pay that money back, then I can pretend that it was all just a business deal—”

“But she died!” Dash sat up, glaring down at her. “Terrazzo died because of those bits!”

“A loan with special stipulations—”

“No! Don’t pretend it’s just about money!”

Rarity sat up. Her expression was carefully blank, the same neutral mask she had spent the past two years wearing in public to hide the turmoil in her heart. “That’s all that’s left, Dash. When I said I would gladly pluck out my eye for the chance to go back and undo these wrongs, I meant it. If tossing those bits in the ocean could bring Terrazzo back, I would do it in an instant. But I can’t do any of those things. All I have left is to honor the agreements I made.”

Dash leapt off the bed, her wings flapping in agitation. She turned in a circle on the floor and flinched when Rarity set a hoof down off the bed. “Then, I don’t know… Give them to charity, or something! Why should he get them back?”

“It’s not about him. It’s about me. I have to pay them back.” Rarity took a careful step forward, stopping when Dash shrank away from her.

“Why? What good does that do anyone? He obviously doesn’t care, and other ponies could use them more.”

“Because then the books are settled. It becomes a regular old loan, just like any other. And then, Dash,” she stepped forward, not minding the way Rainbow Dash’s ears lay flat against her skull, or how she crouched. “Then I can pretend I’m not a whore.” She was barely whispering when she finished.

There was silence in the room. Dash stared at her, unmoving, her mouth half-open as if to speak.

Rarity found she had nothing more to say. She turned and left the room, carefully closing the door behind her.

* * *

Mornings in this house are quickly losing their appeal.

It was an uncharitable thought, but Rarity could think of little else as she sat in the empty kitchen, nursing a mug of steaming coffee between her hooves. Sweetie Belle was still asleep, or at least pretending to be, and Dash hadn’t yet come down from their room. Since she had no idea what to say to the pegasus, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Still, she reflected, things could have been worse. Rainbow hadn’t stormed off as soon as she woke, disgusted by the truth behind Rarity’s stay in Fillydelphia. She hadn’t cursed or denounced her, spread her shame to their friends, and demanded that she renounce any claim to the Element of Generosity or any of the other honors they had accumulated over the years.

She hadn’t done any of those things. Instead she had lain there, coat pressed against coat, asking questions. Even after she had seen Rarity’s worst, the sick nagging tumor on her soul, she had stayed and tried to help.

That deserved some consideration. She blew on her coffee and took a careful sip.

There was a sound of wood scraping on wood, and Rarity turned to see her sister pulling out the chair beside her. Neither spoke as she sat and set her own mug on the table. Rarity gave it a glance, then raised an eyebrow in Sweetie’s direction.

“I didn’t know you drank coffee.”

Sweetie shrugged. “I don’t if I have a performance, but today is just a practice and rest day.”

“Ah. It’s important to rest sometimes.”

“Mhm.” Sweetie took a small sip, let the liquid sit on her tongue for a moment, and then took a longer swallow. “I could make the obvious entendre about you and Rainbow Dash, but something tells me this isn’t the morning for it.”

“Perceptive as always. She’s still upstairs, by the way, before you start speaking about her too loudly.”

Sweetie’s ears flicked back toward the stairwell before returning to Rarity. “Well, she’s welcome to join us. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t talk.”

“Oh, we’re talking now?”

“It’s never too late. I’ve let you walk away too many times, ever since the two of you came back. And after each time I told myself, ‘I shouldn’t have let her get away.’ But I did, because you’re my big sister, and I guess a part of me still thinks you’re marvelous and perfect and never wrong about anything, especially love. All of which has me wondering now, after two mornings in a row where I find you in the kitchen before dawn looking like the shadow of death, why I didn’t stop you sooner.”

Rarity stared down at the table as Sweetie’s words crashed over her. When her sister finished, the silence that followed hung over them like an anvil, suspended by a hair, waiting to crash down and crush them.

Finally, Rarity swallowed. “I’m just trying to help—”

“Then you’re doing something wrong, sis. She doesn’t look like the one who needs help right now.”

Rarity set her mug down with a firm thud. “If there is one thing I’ve learned from living in Fillydelphia, Sweetie Belle, it is that I do not need help. I have everything I need to solve my problems. Rainbow Dash is the one haunted by a dead lover and whose life was falling apart just a week ago, if you will recall. I am going to help her, and if that means I spend a few maudlin mornings in this kitchen, then so be it.”

Sweetie leaned back from assault, but rallied as soon as Rarity fell quiet. “Sis, I appreciate that you’re trying to help her, but how exactly do you think this is going to end?”

Rarity frowned at her. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, is this a permanent thing? Are you two lovers now? Because I don’t see how you sleeping with her a few times and then leaving back to Fillydelphia will result in a long-term improvement to her state of mind.”

“Oh, well, we’re ah, not lovers...” Rarity’s train of thought briefly derailed as she recalled the graphicly shared nature of their dreams. “In the traditional sense, I mean.”

Sweetie Belle raised an eyebrow.

“That is, perhaps we’ve done some things that would be considered, er, unusual for two non-involved ponies.”

Sweetie’s other eyebrow joined the first.

“You know, I think I’ve said enough.” Rarity retrieved her cup and took a sip. “We’re very close. Let’s leave it at that.”

“I see. And this ‘very close’ relationship, what are you getting out of it, exactly?”

“Nothing. I am merely helping a friend.”

“Helping a friend.”

“That is what I said.”

“You get nothing out of it?”

Rarity huffed. “I get the satisfaction of helping a friend. That is quite enough.”

“It sounds quite generous. Tell me, what do you think Rainbow Dash would say if I marched upstairs right now and told her that your ‘close relationship,’ which I take to be rather intimate in nature, is simply an act of charity on your part? That your satisfaction exists only to the extent that she is helped?”

There was a long moment during which Rarity feared her heart had stopped.

“You…” Her voice caught as her heart resumed with a frantic, heavy beat. “You can’t do that.”

“Oh?” Sweetie Belle pushed the chair out and stood. “Rarity, this isn’t healthy for either of you, and I’m sick of seeing my sister and one of my best friends hurt each other. If you want to sleep with Rainbow Dash, then by all means do so. But make sure it’s for the right reason.”

“I’ll thank you to keep your advice—”

A creak from behind interrupted her. They both spun toward the sound and found Rainbow Dash at the top of the stairs, one hoof set down on the first step. Her mane was damp and hung around her ears and neck, as though she had emerged from the shower and forgotten what the towel was for, though considering how her mane normally looked, Rarity wasn’t sure Dash had ever been clear on that concept.

None spoke, though Rarity could imagine the thoughts bouncing through their heads. Hers were certainly obvious: How much did she hear?

Finally, Sweetie cleared her throat. “Well, I think I’m going to go get some breakfast. Any orders?” No one replied, and after a moment she nodded her head haltingly and hurried out the door.

And then there were two. Rarity briefly entertained the idea of scurrying after her sister, but such a retreat would only delay her reckoning with Rainbow Dash. Instead she coughed nervously and recovered her seat at the table. Her horn sparked, and Sweetie’s abandoned seat turned in invitation to the pegasus.

Dash stared at her from the top of the stairs. The rising sun had finally filled the hallway behind her, turning her body into a dark silhouette whose only defining feature was a pair of crimson sparks in her eyes. Damp wings flexed against her sides, though whether that was an unconscious reflex to dry them or a sign of Dash’s state of mind, Rarity could not tell. After what felt like hours, though surely was only a few seconds, Dash shook her head with a snort and trotted down the stairs to the empty seat.

“Good morning, darling,” Rarity said. “Again, I mean.”

“Yeah, morning, I guess.” Rainbow frowned down at Sweetie’s abandoned coffee mug. “Has it really only been a week?”

“A little over.” Rarity took a final sip from her cup. The coffee had lost all its heat and tasted like cool mud on her tongue.

“Feels longer. Rarity, what are we doing?”

“Trying to help each other, I suppose. Isn’t that what friends do?”

“Friends help each other, yeah. But friends don’t sleep with each other, and after those dreams I think I’ve had more sex with you than some of your actual lovers.”

A hot blush threatened to set Rarity’s mane on fire. She turned to look out the window until the worst of it passed. “We’ve both been through some hard times, lately. It’s normal to, ah, look for comfort afterwards.”

Improbably, a small smile appeared on Dash’s lips. “You’re hiding comfort under your tail?”

“A week ago, I’d have slapped anypony who said that to me.”

“Yeah, well, I have that effect on ponies.”

“And someday, Celestia willing, you’ll grow out of it.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” Dash rubbed her hoof on the table, clearing away a small smudge from some meal past. “So, we’re being intimate, which is awesome. But you told your sister it’s all just to help me. Normally I’d be offended.”

Rarity waited for several breaths before responding. “But you’re not?”

Rainbow Dash shook her head. “No. I think you’re lying.”

Rarity stiffened, stung. “Lying?”

“Uh huh. You can hide behind the whole generosity thing, but we’ve seen too much of each other for that to hold water.”

“Are you implying I’ve somehow lost my sense of charity?”

“No. I may not have liked those dreams, Rarity, but they just proved that you’re one of the best ponies I’ve ever known. Yeah, maybe things ended bad, but blame that on poor judgement or luck or pride. Don’t pretend you lost your sense of generosity, and now you need to fight to get it back.”

“Assuming that were true, and not some half-cooked justification for actions that killed a mare, what’s does it have to do with lying?” Rarity frowned and glanced at the door. How long did it take to run down to Sugarcube Corner and purchase some muffins?

“Because it’s a lie if you really do feel something when we’re together.”

They stared at each other in silence. Rarity felt her eyes tighten, and it was all she could do not to shout at the other mare. With great effort she pushed back the response welling in her throat, took a deep breath, and plowed forward.

“I’m not being greedy, Dash. I don’t deserve what you’re talking about.”

“Deserve? As if love was a coin, Rarity? Generosity means giving away things, but when it comes to love, doesn’t it means taking them as well?”

As if love was a coin. Rarity flinched at the comparison, and barely caught herself from falling out of the chair. Coins, jewels, time… all the precious things in her life, they were meant to be given away. It was what defined her, what made her the Element of Generosity.

Love was the same, wasn’t it? Given, and given, but never taken? So caught up was she in the thought that Dash’s next words took nearly a minute to register with her.

She looked up at the pegasus. “Love?”

Dash’s eyes widened, and suddenly she looked away. A hoof rose to fidget with her still-wet mane, and the words stumbled out of her mouth. “Well, I mean, that’s like, kind of a uh… I mean, we’ve been really, really close, and you know—”

At that moment the door opened, and Sweetie Belle stepped in. Hovering behind her was a small white box, and already Rarity could make out the scent of apples, strawberries, cream, walnuts, bananas, blueberries and many others wafting from within, all cocooned in the heady aroma of hot muffins.

“Okay, I got one of everything,” Sweetie said, setting the box on the table. “Who’s hungry?”

“Oh, thank Celestia,” Dash said. She tore the lid from the box, grabbed the closest muffin, and devoured half of it in a single bite. As she chewed, her eyes kept dancing between the treat in her hooves and Rarity’s face.

“Impeccable timing, sister,” Rarity mumbled. She lifted the banana nut muffin and floated it to her muzzle for a dainty bite.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” Rarity took another bite and glanced at Dash. “Just thinking about something.”

It was only breakfast, after all. They had the whole day still to talk.

* * *

After consuming enough muffins for five regular breakfasts, Rarity excused herself to use the shower. Part of her quailed at the idea of leaving Rainbow Dash alone with Sweetie Belle, who would no doubt use the opportunity to grill the pegasus for every lurid detail of their week together. Of course, it wasn’t the juicy secrets that worried Rarity – such things were the coin of trade between sisters, stolen and fought over. No, that wasn’t what worried her.

But what if Dash told her about the other things she had seen? About the stallions, the money, the catastrophes and the death that stalked their dreams. Would Rainbow tell her of such things? She wasn’t normally given to rumors, but these were hardly normal times.

In the end, Rarity had no answer to those worries, so she banished them as best she could, leaning into the shower’s spray and letting it sting her cheeks and eyelids. She would simply have to trust that Rainbow Dash would keep their mutual secrets. And at least she hadn’t used up all the hot water.

Sometime later, when her coat felt like a sponge and her mane and tail were sodden purple strings plastered to her body, she shut off the water and stood in the draining tub. The bathroom window was firmly shut against the cool morning air, but a bright ray of sunlight pierced the fog and condensation around her to light the room and transform the countless droplets of water strewn on the tiles into a field of stars. She shivered as she stepped out of the tub and reached for the towels.

Except there were no towels, not hanging on the rack or on the wicker shelves she had installed for that very purpose years ago. Apparently Dash had known what the towels were for, and rather than using up all the hot water, had simply taken them all instead. Indignation warred with amusement in Rarity’s mind for a moment before she gave up and chuckled.

Still, it was a chilly, dripping walk down the hall to her borrowed room, and she grumbled all the way.

Sweetie Belle was gone when Rarity made it back downstairs with a dry coat and mane, and Rainbow Dash was settled on the couch, a book laid open before her. Her head rose as Rarity took a seat on one of the living room’s plush, overstuffed chairs, and she gave a small nod before turning back to her reading.

Rarity had never, despite all her years of courting and relationships, ever actually lived with another pony. The closest she had come was with Sweetie Belle, when her younger sister would sometimes spend days, weeks or even months living with her in the Boutique as a filly. But even that had simply been an extension of their arrangements when they both lived under their parents’ roof, albeit without their parents. For all her adult life, and especially since moving to Fillydelphia, she had lived alone.

What was it like to live with another pony? One not obligated by ties of blood to love her despite her faults? One whose only ties, in fact, were love?

Was that even for her? Could she spend the rest of her life, tens of thousands of days, never again truly alone? Always shadowed by another soul? How long would it be before they ran out of things to say, or exciting moments to share, and their lives fell into mutual silence and they became like ghosts, haunting each other before even the courtesy of dying?

Wouldn’t it feel awkward, Rarity wondered, to spend hours in silence with her mate? She could barely stand a thirty second pause in conversations without becoming uncomfortable. How did married couples last for years?

“Hey, Rarity?” Dash’s voice broke her from her musings. “There’s room over here.” She patted the empty cushion beside her with a hoof.

“Ah, thank you.” Rarity hopped down and walked over to the couch, settling in against Dash’s side. After a moment, the pegasus extended a wing and draped it over her back. It was the warmest blanket Rarity had ever felt.

Since she was already there, Rarity decided that Dash’s shoulder made for an acceptable pillow, and she leaned her head against it. So situated, Rarity returned to her thoughts, and Rainbow Dash returned to her book, and something like silence resumed dominion over the room.

Except it wasn’t quite silent, Rarity realized. She could hear Rainbow Dash’s heart.

* * *

“Love is not a coin, you said.”

Rainbow Dash paused, her muzzle pressed against the page she was in the process of turning when Rarity’s voice broke the silence. It was the first real sound in hours – Rarity had dozed off at some point, and when she woke the sun had shifted, and now its light streamed in the south windows, slowly warming the room. Dash blinked, apparently caught unaware, then tilted her head down at the unicorn.

“Remember?” Rarity said. “We were talking about love and generosity, and you said it wasn’t a coin to be given away.”

“Oh, yeah. Because it’s not.”

Rarity resisted the urge to frown. “Yes, love is not really a small metal disk. I understand metaphors, Dash. But what did you mean by it?”

“I already told you.”

“Yes, but I want to hear it again.”

“Ah. Sorry, but I forgot.”

“You did not!”

“I did.” Rainbow Dash turned back to her book, a small smile playing on her lips. “Sorry.”

“I’m serious, Rainbow.” Rarity emphasized her point by prodding Dash’s shoulder with her horn. “Tell me again.”

Rainbow Dash was silent for some time. The skin around her eyes tightened, and after a few heartbeats she closed her book and pushed it away.

“It was just a stupid thought,” she said, not looking at Rarity. “But, what Sweetie said, about all this being an act of charity you’re doing for me… that can’t be right.”

Rarity found she could barely breathe, and she swallowed loudly before answering. “Dash, you saw the real me last night. Did that look like somepony who can have a healthy, loving relationship?”

“I saw a mare who was hurt. There seems to be a lot of that going around.”

Ah, touche. Rarity glanced away before meeting Dash’s eyes again. “Maybe. Maybe I’m hurt because of my guilt and my poor choices. But you’re hurt because of a tragic loss you didn’t cause and you certainly didn’t deserve. When I saw you last week, Dash, you looked like a broken mare. I’ve never been so afraid for one of my friends.”

“And I can never thank you enough for that, Rarity.” Dash leaned forward to brush her cheek against the unicorn’s. “But that’s no excuse to ignore your own wounds.”

“Pinpricks, Dash. That’s all they are.”

“Liar.”

Rarity shook her head. “Don’t pretend we’re alike, Dash. You’re a good pony.”

Dash rolled her eyes. “Jeez, you’re a thick one, you know that?”

“Oh, are we insulting each other now? Well, I’ll—mmmph!”

Whatever else Rarity had planned to say fled her mind as Dash moved, quick as lightning. Her hoof reached around Rarity head to pull her forward, and Dash’s muzzle met hers, their mouths mashing together in a rough, one-sided kiss. She felt Dash’s tongue brush against her lips, running along them before pressing forward with hot, wet insistence.

She let it in, of course. It was the easiest decision she’d made in months. A moan escaped her as her tongue found Dash’s, and they played together inelegantly, as clumsily as two teenagers sneaking their first kiss in the shadows outside their parents’ house. Dash’s teeth clicked against hers and their noses bumped uncomfortably and she could taste the frosting from the morning’s muffins in Dash’s saliva. It was sloppy and dreadful and the opposite of everything Rarity ever tried for in her lovemaking.

It was wonderful.

After a few breathless seconds they broke apart and stared at each other. After just a moment of that they both found something else to stare at, either the couch or their hooves or the ceiling or an otherwise nondescript spot on the wall. The silence was definitely gone now – the rush of her breath was loud in Rarity’s ears, and she swore she could hear Rainbow Dash panting. The wing draped over her barrel shook in time with Dash’s heartbeat.

“Well!” Rarity tried to flip her mane casually out of her eyes, but managed to do little more than bob her head around like a bird. “That was, ah, that was very forward of you, Rainbow Dash.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Dash’s ears folded back, and she licked her lips. “I just, you know… I mean, you kind of looked like—”

“I didn’t say it was bad, darling. Just forward.”

“Oh.” Dash’s ears perked back up. “Okay. So, like, if I did it again, that would be fine?”

Rarity knew she should have some quip prepared for this, some light joke to set the mood at ease while simultaneously demonstrating that she was calm, comfortable and in control. She was a master of such sexual politics and this time should have been no different.

Instead, it was all she could do to nod and hope that there weren’t too many pieces of the morning’s breakfast still stuck in her teeth.

Dash came in slow this time, and hesitated, jerking back just a hair when their lips touched. Rarity gave her a second to recover her courage, and when nothing seemed forthcoming, leaned forward enough to close the distance.

It was chaste, their second kiss. Slower, more considered, at least to Rarity; she couldn’t imagine what was going on in Dash’s head, though to judge by the way her jaw trembled and her ears flicked every which way, she was either either very nervous, confused or excited.

Hopefully the last. Rarity parted her lips and let her tongue gently probe the seam between Dash’s. She felt the pegasus jerk, her breath hitching, but soon enough Dash’s tongue joined hers, and they teased each other, dancing wetly at the join between their breaths. It lasted far longer than the first hasty kiss, and when Dash finally pulled away her shaking had ceased.

“It’s, uh…” Dash licked her lips and froze for a moment, as though suddenly remembering what she was tasting. “Uh, sorry. It’s been a little while since I’ve done that.”

“You were fine, darling.” Rarity darted forward to land another peck on Dash’s lips. “I daresay it’s been too long since I’ve done this, too.”

“What, kissed somepony?”

“No. Kissed somepony and meant it.”

With that, Rarity leaned back in, and it was quite a while before they spoke again.

* * *

“So, you gonna stay in Fillydelphia forever?”

Rarity glanced over to see Rainbow Dash approaching her park bench. A brown paper bag blotched with dark greasy spots was balanced on her back between her wings, and as Rainbow sat down beside her on the bench, she set it down between them. The cloying odor of oil and fried pastry and sugar wafted from it.

To hell with it, diets are overrated anyway. So decided, she reached into the bag with her magic and floated out a funnel cake. Powdered sugar drifted from it like snow, speckling the wood bench and her coat as she took a bite.

“Well?” Dash asked again. She rooted around in the bag with her muzzle and came out with another funnel cake held in her jaws. The poor thing only lasted a few seconds before it was reduced to crumbs and memories.

Rarity shook her head at the spectacle. “Would it kill you to eat a bit more slowly, dear?”

“Maybe. Never tried.”

“Well, try to be a bit tidier, at least in public, hm?” Rarity reached out a hoof to brush a few crumbs from Dash’s muzzle. Half her face was dusted white with sugar, but there wasn’t much help for that.

“Whatever. So, Fillydelphia?”

Rarity turned her gaze back to the funnel cake floating before her. Like most confections born in Sugarcube Corner, it was the epitome of its kind. Crisp yet fluffy, sweet but not syrupy, with just enough powdered sugar to be welcome and not choke the tastebuds. For all that, though, just two bites were enough to satisfy her, and she passed the remainder over to Rainbow, where it promptly vanished.

“It’s a nice town,” she said. “I’ve enjoyed living there.”

“Lot of nice towns in Equestria.”

“But not many with their own fashion ecosystem. Only Canterlot and Manehattan come close.”

Rainbow Dash was silent after that, and Rarity turned to see her staring down at the grass, a tiny frown on her lips. Her wings ruffled at her side, but aside from her twitching ears and tail she remained motionless.

“What about you?” Rarity finally asked. “You grew up in Cloudsdale but lived here most of your life. Could you see yourself living anywhere else?”

“I don’t… I don’t really live in Cloudsdale most of the year. Just in the off season.”

“That sounds rather… ah, ungrounded, I suppose. But that’s not a problem for pegasi, is it?”

Dash shrugged with her wings. “Not really. A lot of pegasi settle down more when they have foals, but even that’s just temporary. Once they fledge it’s back to living wherever you want.”

“Have you ever thought about that? About foals, I mean?”

Several seconds passed before Dash answered. “I didn’t used to, back when Soarin was alive. You can’t really have foals if you’re a Wonder Bolt. Or the mares can’t, anyway. Stallions can have as many foals as they want, I suppose.”

Rarity sniffed. “That hardly seems fair.”

“Yeah, but it’s the way it is. A lot of the stunts we do, they push your body right to the edge. Trying to do them while carrying a foal in your body…” Dash shook her head. “I don’t even want to think about it.”

“So you never thought about it?”

Rainbow Dash avoided Rarity’s eyes, looking down as she scraped the tip of her hoof again the bench. The dark, wet finish flaked away, leaving a bright blonde scar ribbed with the wood’s grain. She frowned down at the mark, but her eyes were distant, and Rarity wondered what she was really seeing.

The silence extended. In days past, Rarity might have broken it to prod Dash for an answer, or simply chattered herself to fill the emptiness in their conversation. Silence and introspection rarely led to good outcomes for her, and over the years she had learned dozens of techniques to paper over them.

But the past week had changed things for them both, and she let the lull drag itself out. Dash would either answer or she wouldn’t, and it was not Rarity’s place to force her. And in the end, it wasn’t necessary.

“You know, I kind of have,” Rainbow Dash said. Her voice was so low Rarity had to lean in to hear it over the wind. “After he was gone, I spent a lot of time tallying all the things I had lost, and that was one of them. We were together for over two years, and we never once even talked about it, but after he died I realized that we would never have foals together. I lost something I never had and I never realized I wanted until it was gone. How silly is that?”

Rarity swallowed thickly and blinked to clear her eyes. Dash’s voice had grown shakier as she spoke, and by the end tears were trickling down her muzzle, leaving dark blue streaks in her coat.

This wasn’t what I wanted. Rarity squeezed her eyes shut and reached out with a foreleg, gently pulling Dash’s head toward her. When Dash’s face was nestled against her breast, and she felt the pegasus’s hot, halting breath, she whispered the only words that came to mind. “I’m sorry. I’m here for you.”

It was enough, apparently. Something inside Dash broke, and she bawled into Rarity’s coat there on the bench, the rest of the world forgotten around them.

* * *

“Sorry about that. I just got a little, you know… I mean, I don’t usually do that.”

“And I said it’s nothing to be ashamed of, darling.” Rarity gave Dash a little bump with her flank as they walked toward the Boutique. The sun was low and golden in the sky, and their shadows marched along beside them. The warmth of the day was already fading, and Rarity suspected it would be a frosty night.

“Yeah, but, still.” Rainbow Dash rubbed her eyes again with the back of her fetlock. They were no longer red and puffy, but anypony who looked close could tell that she’d been crying, and she had insisted on returning to the Boutique for dinner rather than eating out.

“But nothing. Nopony will think any less of you for a few tears, Dash, and if they do, their opinion isn’t worth much anyway.”

“I know.” She cleared her throat again, as she had every minute for the past half hour. “Thank you, by the way.”

It was almost a reflex to turn down Dash’s gratitude; to aver that it was the least she could do. Instead she leaned over and brushed her cheek against Dash’s. “You’re welcome.”

They made the rest of the walk back in silence. Sweetie Belle was already inside, and the scent of dinner greeted them as soon as they opened the door.

It was not a bad day, Rarity decided as Dash practically galloped toward the food. What had begun with fear and resignation ended with tears, but not of pain.

She wasn’t sure if they were tears of healing, yet. But that was fine.

They had time.

The Vast Dark Ocean of the Night

Sweetie Belle was making dinner for four, as it turned out. Herself, her sister, Rainbow Dash, and somepony Rainbow Dash would never have expected: Pipsqueak.

The colt was up to his elbows in the soapy sink, scrubbing away at a colander when Dash entered the kitchen. Sweetie Belle was across the room, fussing over the stove, and as Dash watched she slurped up a long noodle and gave a thoughtful hum before turning down the gas burner. The boiling pot of pasta abruptly settled down, the foamy froth that threatened to bubble over the top vanishing in just a few seconds.

She could smell more than just the noodles – the hot kitchen was redolent with seared squash, garlic butter and tomato sauce. She could taste them in the air, setting her mouth to watering, and she stalked over to the stove. Sinful, sizzling slices of every kind of squash – delicata, black peanut, acorn and butternut and more she didn’t recognize – popped and steamed on the range. Beside them, cooling on a plate, were a dozen more slices already cooked through, and Dash leaned forward to snatch one up.

“No!” Out of nowhere a wooden spoon, wet and smelling of pasta, whacked her on the nose. “No snacking! Go help Pip with the dishes or set the table.” Sweetie gave her a squint and waved the spoon threateningly with her magic before turning back to the boiling pot.

Fine. Dash rubbed her muzzle and slunk over to the sink, where Pipsqueak greeted her with a rueful smile. A few bubbles were caught in his mane, and his coat was more mottled than usual with dark splotches of soapy water.

“Sorry, Miss Dash,” he said. His accent made him sound twice his age, but the perpetual grin and twinkle in his eye hadn’t changed from the colt she knew from years ago. He dipped his head toward her, and continued in a conspiratorial voice. “She’s a good cook, but very protective. Won’t let me near the stove.”

“I just wanted a bite!” Rainbow hissed back. She glowered over her shoulder at Sweetie Belle, who was again fully engaged with the pasta, then turned back to the sink. “Need help?”

“Hm, nah. If you wanna start setting out silverware, though, that’d be tops.”

Ugh, silverware. Another unicorn invention. Or maybe not – she’d seen earth ponies use them, somehow holding them delicately in the crook of their hoof. But all in all they were a waste of time; slower to eat with than just using her muzzle, and slower to wash than just wiping her face with a napkin.

In any other home, she would’ve opened her mouth to protest. But this was Rarity’s home, or rather Sweetie Belle’s, and of all the ponies in the world those two would be the last to abandon their precious silverware. They might, in fact, attempt to stab her with it if she were so unwise as to suggest going without in their presence. So, in the interest of not being shived with a butter knife, Rainbow Dash set out the knives and spoons and forks by each of the placemats.

Rarity chose that moment to make her entrance. She froze in the doorway, her eyes widening at the sight of the colt by the sink, and then a grin grew on her face.

“Oh, Pipsqueak! How good to see you again,” she said, sidling over to him, careful not to brush the sink with her coat. “Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?”

“I think that’s the plan, Miss Rarity. I hope you’ll be gracing us with your presence as well.”

“Oh, flatterer.” She leaned in to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I suppose if you’re here, I must. By the by, what’s that you’re cooking, Sweetie? It smells heavenly.”

“Linguine with tomato basil sauce and eggplant, sided with seared squash medley and a crisp pear cider I got from one of Apple Bloom’s cousins for a song.” Sweetie plucked out another noodle from the pot and nibbled at it, then gave a little nod. “And it’s just about done. Would you mind pouring the cider? The jug is in the icebox.”

Just about done turned out to be a nearly ten minute adventure while Rarity and Sweetie Belle chattered and fussed over the table and spent approximately half of forever arguing over who would sit where, which was only finally resolved when Pipsqueak and Rainbow Dash simply took seats on opposite sides of the table. After a moment of grumbling the sisters took the remaining two seats, and then dinner was served.

“So.” Rarity gave the bright red pasta sauce a long look, then carefully tied a napkin around her neck. “There we go. Ahem. So, Pipsqueak, how have you been? What are you doing these days?”

“Working with Mister Rich for a few months at Barnyard Bargains. Inventory, sales, helping with customers on busy days.” Pipsqueak said. “And next summer I’ll be heading out for Uni.”

“Uni?” Dash asked. She fumbled with her fork for a few seconds, then abandoned it and snatched up one of the squash slices with her tongue and gobbled it down.

“University, darling,” Rarity said. She looked like she wanted to say something about Dash’s table manners, but she just rolled her eyes and took a sip of her cider before turning back to Pipsqueak. “Where are you looking at going, then? Back to Trottingham?”

“Oh no, much closer. Canterlot,” he said. Rainbow Dash caught the fleeting glance he gave to Sweetie as he spoke.

Rarity must’ve seen it as well, but she held her tongue. For several moments there was silence, broken only by the sound of chewing squash, slurping noodles, and quiet exclamations of delight.

Finally, from Rarity, “Canterlot’s not that far. You could even visit Ponyville on the weekends.”

“And I might visit Canterlot, once or twice.” Sweetie said. “Can’t let him forget about us poor old Ponyvillians. Might get lonely up there, after all.”

“Ah, but absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say.” Rarity grinned across the table at her sister. “Perhaps much fonder.”

“I’m fond of all my friends.” Sweetie dabbed at her lips with her napkin.

“Mhm.” Rarity glanced at Pipsqueak. “And you, Pips?”

“I am also fond of Sweetie Belle’s friends,” the colt said. The ghost of a smile played on his lips.

“Not that fond, though,” Sweetie said.

“Of course not.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll love it there,” Rarity said. She paused to take another dainty bite of the pasta. “Twilight Sparkle is from Canterlot, and she speaks very highly of the place. Granted, my visits there tend to revolve around various sorts of disasters, but it seems like a nice place.”

“I’ve done a couple Canterlot shows with the Bolts,” Dash added. “It’s pretty neat, actually. The audience is on the mountainside, so most of our stunts are level with them or even below them. Awesome views, if you ask me.”

Discourse shifted to their respective days, then to local gossip, and finally to speculations about the weather. As Rainbow Dash was no longer the Ponyville weather captain, she had no particular insights into the weather schedule, except to say that snow was unlikely for at least several more weeks. Cold rains would probably start soon, though, and shock the last stubborn trees into their fall foliage. These few weeks before the Running of the Leaves were the most beautiful time of year in Ponyville, when the world below her became a patchwork riot of hues.

Before long dinner was finished. Clean-up was a family affair, though they left the griddle to soak overnight rather than spend hours scrubbing it clean.

“Marvelous, darling.” Rarity bumped flanks with her sister as the last of the dishes went away. “I don’t know where you learned to cook like that.”

“Trial and error! Mostly error.” Sweetie used a small dishrag to pat her hooves dry. “Are you two in for the night, then?”

Rainbow Dash glanced out the wide Boutique window. It didn’t feel late, but the sun was well below the horizon, and the world outside dark except for a faint glow in the western sky and Ponyville’s streetlamps. Fall truly had snuck up on them.

“Guess I am,” she said. “Unless you wanna hang out with the girls, Rares.”

“Mm, it’s been a day already. Perhaps tomorrow we can have a get-together at Sugarcube Corner.”

“That’s my cue, then.” Pipsqueak said. “Ladies, thank you for the company, and Sweetie, as always, thank you for a lovely meal.” He leaned in to give Sweetie a kiss on the cheek, and after a brief blushing hesitation, she returned it. The others he gave a polite nod, and with a smile he vanished out the door.

Rarity waited for him to leave before grinning at her sister. “As always? Are you having dear Pipsqueak over for meals often?”

“As often as I please.”

“Oh, don’t snip.” Rarity waved a hoof, then came alongside Sweetie and draped her leg over the younger unicorn’s shoulders. “He’s a lovely colt and you seem to be handling your relationship with him nicely. Just remember, you can always talk with me or mom. Mostly me, though.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Despite the dismissive tone, Sweetie had a small smile on her face, and she gave Rarity a peck on the cheek. “So do you want to shower first, or should I—”

She didn’t get to finish. Rarity was already halfway up the stairs.

* * *

“Thirsty?”

Rainbow Dash blinked and looked up from the book spread out between her hooves. She was stretched out on the couch again, in the same position she had spent much of the morning with Rarity at her side. Even the book was the same, though she was now quite a bit further through Sweetie Belle’s dog-eared copy of ‘The Collected Poems of Song Sparrow.’ The last line of a random stanza, one she had passed by pages ago, flitted through her head unbidden: Streak across the sky, you star with lancing light / and bring to darkened shores surcease of night.

She blinked again and shook her head, chasing away the phantom thought. “Sorry, say again?”

Sweetie Belle quirked a smile at her from the kitchen doorway. “Would you like a drink? I was thinking getting something for myself.”

Some water wouldn’t be bad, she decided. As a stunt flyer, she used to drink gallons of water a day just to keep from passing out during training or a performance. The past six sedentary months had weaned her from that habit, but if she was going to be flying again, she ought to start drinking again, even if it meant having to get up halfway through the night to pee.

“Yeah, that’d be awesome.”

“Great.” Sweetie vanished into the kitchen, and for a few moments the only sound in the room was the faint rustle of paper as Dash turned a page and the quiet hiss from the shower upstairs, where Rarity had already spent too much of her time and would, undoubtedly, spend much more before they saw her again.

Dash was almost lost in the book again when she felt the air beside her shift, and she turned to see a wine glass filled nearly to the brim with dark red liquid floating beside her, engulfed in Sweetie Belle’s pale green aura. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she reached out to take it before it could spill.

“Er, uh…” She glanced over to see Sweetie Belle settling down with another glass and the rest of the bottle both held in her magic. “Are you old enough for this?”

“I’m pretty close.” Sweetie Belle paused to take a sip. “Besides, wine is good for talking. Loosens the tongue, you know?”

“Yeah, uh, I guess.” She spent a moment in quiet contemplation of the very full wine glass in her hoof. It was probably some expensive brand, but to her wine only ever smelled like grapes and yeast and alcohol. Not a refined palate, Rarity probably would’ve said. The Wonder Bolts were more of a hard liquor organization. One time, she and Soarin spent the night pouring whiskey on each others coats and licking it clean. They only managed to drink a quarter of the bottle that way, but damn if it wasn’t a fun way to get drunk.

“To loose tongues!” She raised her glass and took a small sip. Wine had to be sipped – one of its liabilities as a drink, as far as she was concerned.

Sweetie grinned and raised her glass as well. The dark wine left a noticeable stain on her lips after she drank, which might explain why Rarity seemed to prefer whites. It was amazing the lengths that pony went through to protect her looks.

And how quickly she abandons them. Memories of all the times she’d seen Rarity covered in mud or dust or soaked to the skin during their various adventures flooded her mind.

“Whatcha smiling about?” Sweetie’s voice broke her reverie.

Rainbow Dash blinked. “Uh, just thinking about something.” A pause, and another sip. “Rarity.”

“I figured. You two seem to be spending a lot of time together.”

“We are. She’s been very nice to me lately.”

“Very nice?” Sweetie raised an eyebrow. Coming from Rarity, the gesture would’ve looked refined and elegant, but Sweetie still had a bit too much of the foal about her face to pull it off.

“That’s what I said. And I heard you speaking with her this morning, so we can skip right to the good parts if you want.”

Sweetie gave her a mock pout. “Ah, you’re no fun. Fine.” She leaned forward. “Tell me everything.”

Rainbow Dash thought back to some of their shared dreams. “Maybe when you’re older.”

Sweetie rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I’m as old as Rarity was when you girls started saving the world. Besides, I have a coltfriend. I know what’s up.”

Well, that was an image. Dash needed another sip before she could continue. “I think Rarity covered it already. We’re close. We’re, ah…”

Were they lovers? Not in the sense that she and Soarin had been, or Rarity and her various stallions. But she’d shared things with Rarity that no other pony had known, and Rarity certainly trusted her with her deepest and darkest shames. And that didn’t even count the dreams they’d shared, the rather graphic dreams, now that she thought about it. Dreams where she’d worn Rarity’s memories and body, felt the stallions’ tongues beneath her tail, felt them enter her and climax in her and collapse upon her when they were done.

That was pretty damn intimate, actually.

Sweetie was still waiting. Her expression was carefully neutral, and she took another sip from her wine.

“It’s complicated,” Dash said. “We’ve shared things with each other that we’ve never told any other pony, and she’s helped me. Like, a lot. I don’t… I’m not sure where I’d be without her. Still lost, probably.”

“Well, I’m glad she found you.” Any hint of teasing was gone from Sweetie’s tone. “And have you been helping her?”

How much did Sweetie know about Rarity’s troubles? Not the details, or she would have long-since dragged Rarity back to Ponyville herself. But she must’ve realized something was wrong. Dash hemmed and hawed again, covering her contemplation with a show of tasting the wine.

“I think so. I…” Dash frowned at the wine. “It’s not my place to share her secrets.”

“Of course not. But I know she’s hiding things. She’s very skilled with those masks of hers, but no pony can hide everything.” Sweetie Belle fell silent and stared into her wine, as though seeking answers there. “There were some rumors about her business in Fillydelphia. Articles in fashion mags, saying she’d royally botched some season or other, and they doubted she could recover. But she must’ve, because she’s still in business. I’ve seen the clippings from her shows.”

What to say to that? “Yeah, she had some hard times.”

“Well, I wish she’d talk to me about them. It’s not good to keep things bottled up.” No sooner than the words had escaped her, Sweetie glanced at Dash and bit her lip. “Er. Sorry. I shouldn’t be saying that. You’ve been through a lot more than her.”

That’s what I once thought. But was it true? Dash had lost the most important pony in her life, but Rarity lost what must have felt like a part of her soul. Who was to say which of them had suffered more?

Sweetie must’ve taken her silence for a rebuke. She swallowed and turned to stare at the fireplace. Above them, faintly hissing, returned the sound of Rarity’s shower.

“It’s fine. I’ve, ah… I didn’t really take Soarin’s death well, and I didn’t realize how much I needed help until Rarity found me. So, you know, things are getting better.” She gave Sweetie a smile. Weak, but genuine.

“I’m glad to hear that. Everypony was worried about you. I think they still are, but, well, you look better now. Much better.”

“You can thank Rarity for that.” Dash sighed. “I don’t thank her enough for it.”

“I don’t think you need to. She just wants to see you happy again.”

A snippet of the morning’s conversation came back to her. “Is that all she wants?”

Sweetie Belle blinked at her, then smiled. “No, I don’t think it is. But that’s something you two have to work out for each other.”

For each other. Dash let her eyes close, and remembered the sound of Rarity’s heartbeat as they lay together in bed, the soft lilac and cotton scent that always seemed to cling to her, even when covered in mud and sweat.

She opened her eyes to see Sweetie still smiling. “When did you get so mature, anyway?”

“Just snuck up on me, I guess.” She took final swig from her wine, and set the empty glass on the end table. “Still don’t feel like it, though.”

“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep it up.” Now it was her time to smile. “And speaking of whatever you’re doing, how are things with Pipsqueak?”

Now that was a blush. Pale unicorns could never hide their embarrassment, and Sweetie’s cheeks and neck flushed a bright pink. Even her shoulders and chest seemed to catch a bit of the tint. She reached for her wineglass again, scowled when she remembered it was empty, and gave a little sniff. It took several seconds for her coat to return to its normal dove white.

“Ahem. Well, obviously, we’ve gotten fairly close to each other. He’s a true gentlestallion, you know. Not like a lot of colts our age. He’s kind and thoughtful and he can always make me smile.” She did smile, then. “And of course there’s that accent. It’s, like, almost unfair.”

“And how does he feel about you?”

“Well, the same, I hope. Minus the accent, of course.” She paused and glanced between Rainbow Dash and the stairway. “I’ve been thinking a lot about him lately. Especially since you two returned. That maybe we’re ready for the next step.”

A few dregs remained in Dash’s glass. She tipped her head back and let them drain across her tongue while she thought of a response to that. “Sounds serious.”

“Getting there. He’s not afraid.”

“You’re pretty young, though. Most mares keep things casual at your age.” Dash certainly had – one-night stands aplenty, and a few longer, mostly disastrous affairs that left her convinced that real relationships were for ponies who lived slower, sedate, less passionate lives. Not her, in other words.

Soarin had cured her of that delusion. It was another thing she owed him, she realized. Gone six months now, and still she accumulated debts to him. She closed her eyes.

In time, Sweetie Belle answered. “That’s true. Maybe it’ll work, maybe it won’t. But I can’t spend my life waiting for something better to come along.”

Rainbow Dash had nothing to say to that. Her mind spun at random, and she found herself wishing for the cold, clear air of the high skies with an urgency that set her wings to trembling. Six long months she had forsworn flying, all in mourning, and why? The skies were not her enemy. She should be out there right now, streaking across the heavens. Making up for a half a year of lost time. If she left now she could—

A faint squeal and rumble came from the pipes upstairs, and the low hiss of the shower ceased. The silence in its absence was profound.

“Sounds like Rarity’s done,” Sweetie Belle said. “You next?”

“Eh, I took one this morning. Go ahead.”

“Right, right.” Still, Sweetie Belle didn’t move from her chair until Rarity joined them, her head wrapped in an enormous towel the same electric shade as her mane.

“Hello dears. Chatting I see.” Her steps stuttered as she noticed the wine glasses, and she gave Sweetie a sharp glance as she took a seat on the couch. “And Sweetie, I see you’ve had some wine. I don’t suppose mom gave that to you?”

Sweetie returned the stare with level grace. “No, got it myself.”

The sisters held the stare for a long moment, until Rainbow Dash began to fidget and was about to speak up in Sweetie’s (and her own) defense. But just as Dash opened her mouth, Rarity sniffed and looked away.

“Well, be sure to brush your teeth again. Red wine stains, you know.”

Sweetie Belle grinned, showing off teeth that were, in fact, stained a light purple. “Thank you, mother. But I’m not going to bed quite yet.” She jumped out of the seat, and wobbled just a bit on her hooves. “Woo, hee, strong stuff. Anyway. I’m heading out for a bit, and probably won’t return. Can I trust you two alone tonight?”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Rarity answered. “Remember, you can always lean on the lampposts if you need support. That’s what they’re there for.”

“Hanging out with your friends?” Dash chimed in.

“A friend.” She gave Dash a small smile. “It was a pleasure speaking with you, Rainbow Dash. I’ll see you two in the morning.” She gave her sister a jaunty wave, and trotted out the door with a spring in her step.

“Well, she seems happy,” Rarity said. “Let me guess, going to see Pipsqueak?”

“Yeah, prolly.”

“Sleeping with him, you think?”

Dash rubbed the side of her muzzle with a hoof. “She kinda implied that, yeah. That a problem?”

Rarity let out a long breath. “No, no it isn’t. She’s an adult, or nearly so. She’s allowed to live her life, and that means making choices and mistakes. The worst that can happen is a wounded heart.”

“Uh huh. Or foals! You could have a little niece or nephew!” She gave Rarity a playful nudge with her hoof.

“Ugh, don’t even joke, Rainbow Dash—”

“Aunty Rarity! That has a nice ring to it.”

“Ha! No, we will never use that term.” She levitated over Sweetie’s empty glass, and the remains of the bottle, giving the label a careful look before shrugging and pouring the remains into the glass. “Never Aunt Rarity, Dash. Never.”

“Why? It’s cute. And I thought you didn’t like red wines?”

“Oh, nothing against them, darling.” She took a sip, swirled it around in her mouth, and nodded. “Well, Sweetie has decent taste at least. Anyway, I love reds, but they do stain. But that won’t be a problem.”

“Why not?”

“Well, you’ve already been drinking. We’ll match.”

“That’s sweet. I think.”

Rarity leaned her shoulder against Dash’s. “It is. Just go with it.”

“Sounds like a plan.” She lifted a wing and gently laid it over Rarity’s back. “By the way, thanks for everything today.”

Rarity shifted a bit closer, cooing quietly at the feathery blanket. “I should be thanking you. After last night, I wouldn’t have been surprised if you just up and left.”

“I could never do that.”

“Well, maybe not.” Rarity took another sip. “You’re too good of a pony for that. Better than me, certainly.”

“Hey.” Dash leaned down, trying to catch Rarity’s eye. The unicorn turned away, and Dash reached her hoof over Rarity’s shoulder, gently pushing their muzzles back together. “Never say that, Rarity. We all make mistakes, but that doesn’t mean you’re a bad pony.”

She snorted. “Tell that to Terrazo’s family.”

“We could, I guess.” Dash rubbed Rarity’s back with her primaries, the way her father did when she was a foal and came home crying from flight school. “If you feel obligated, or if it might help them. But you can still live your life. Not just… going through the motions. Like I was.”

Rarity brushed her cheek against Dash’s, then laid her head upon Dash’s withers. “Like you were. I think there must be something magnetic about suffering, Rainbow Dash. It draws ponies who are hurting together.”

“That’s a little flowery, even for you, Rares.”

“Says the mare with a book of poetry in her hooves.”

Hm, fair enough. Dash glanced down at the collected poems of Song Sparrow, then gently closed the book and set it on the end table. “Better?”

“Getting there,” Rarity breathed in her ear. She ducked her head an inch and gently nipped the skin behind Rainbow’s jaw.

Rainbow Dash was not a pony who got nervous early. Years of death-defying stunts in full view of tens of thousands of ponies, giving radio interviews, diplomatic functions and state events, not to mention her various adventures with the girls, had given her a somewhat different perspective on high pressure situations than most ponies. If anything, facing down dragons, hydras, changelings and dark spirits filled her with excitement, not dread.

But were these butterflies, dancing her stomach? Her heart began to beat faster, and her coat tingled, each individual hair attempting to stand on end. Her insides clenched, and her bladder screamed at her, suddenly deciding she needed to pee.

Stop it! Calm down. You’re not a filly. Dash took a long, slow breath and pulled Rarity closer with her wing. After a few heartbeats her body quieted, and they were back to two mares sitting beside each other on the couch, one of them no doubt waiting for her kiss to be reciprocated.

So, she did. Dash turned her head and pressed her lips against Rarity’s muzzle. Their mouths opened, and for a moment their tongues touched, each tasting of wine. Rarity’s hoof found Dash’s, and she clenched it tight against her chest.

“Mm,” Rarity mumbled as they broke away. She pressed her face against Dash’s neck and drew a deep breath, drinking in her scent, and when she let it out it burned against Dash’s skin. “You know, we did get up very early this morning. Perhaps an early bedtime would be in order.”

“Uh huh. Sleepy?”

“Not really.” Rarity gave her a grin, then quickly dispatched the rest of her wine. “Would you like to take a shower first?”

Dash gave herself a quick mental once-over. She still felt clean. “Nah, I’m good.”

Rarity blinked. “Are you sure, darling?”

“Yeah, I took one this morning, remember?”

It was a long moment before Rarity answered, and Dash could’ve sworn she saw the unicorn roll her eyes for some reason. “Yes, of course, how silly of me to forget. Well, come on then.” She flicked Dash’s flank with her tail, still a bit damp from her own shower, and trotted up the stairs with a coy look over her shoulder.

Rarity was not in the bedroom waiting for her. Instead the unicorn was in the bathroom, unwrapping the towel from her mane. It still smelled damp, and as she watched from the doorway Rarity felt it with her hoof and frowned.

“Could just blow-dry it,” Dash said.

Rarity flicked her hoof dismissively. “That would take twenty minutes, darling. I have something better I’d like to do with my time tonight.” The doorway wasn’t especially narrow, but she pressed her body heavily against Dash’s as she passed by. She stepped up onto the bed with a slow, languid motion, made a show of stretching, demonstrating all the long lines and curves of her body, and when she had Dash’s full and undivided attention, she plopped onto her side, giggling like a schoolfilly.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Miss Rarity?” Dash asked, smiling, as she climbed up on the bed beside the unicorn.

“Maybe.” Rarity hooked a foreleg around Dash’s neck and drew her down for a long, lingering kiss. No subtlety now, just tongues twining together, redolent of wine and the odd, suspicious, enticing taste of another pony’s saliva. They broke apart after a moment, and Rarity nipped playfully at her chin. “Is it working?”

“I’ll tell you in a few minutes,” Dash whispered. She stepped over Rarity’s prone form, careful with her footing on the soft mattress, and placed another kiss on Rarity’s neck. The unicorn hummed beneath her, low enough for Dash to feel the rumble in her breast, and when she squirmed the ruff of fur on her chest tickled Dash’s belly.

She settled down slowly, her hips straddling Rarity’s flank, her teats and crotch pressing against the unicorn’s cutie mark. There was something subtly taboo about such an act. Cutie marks were sacred, a pure distillation of the pony they represented, a visualization of their very soul. And here she was, inches away from grinding her junk against Rarity’s mark.

If that bothered Rarity at all, she didn’t show it. She giggled as Rainbow nipped at the skin beneath her neck, and she ran a hoof along Dash’s side, gently caressing her. Then she found Dash’s wing, and she ruffled the short covert feathers with her hoof.

“Hmm… Stop a moment, darling?”

Dash pushed herself up on her forelegs, looking down at Rarity’s pinned form. “You okay?”

“Of course. I just want to see these.” She wriggled out from beneath Dash and sat up, so their chests pressed together. She twisted around, grasping Dash’s wing in her hooves tugging at it with a gentle insistence.

“My wings?” Dash extended it before Rarity could pull too hard. “What about them?”

Rarity ran a hoof along her leading edge. The feathers there were short and smooth, densely packed to create the airfoil pegasi needed to generate lift. Rainbow couldn’t manipulate them the way she could her primaries, but they were all well-supplied with blood vessels and nerves. They had to be, for her to feel the wind and the slightest changes in air pressure as she flew.

“They’re so soft.” Rarity leaned down and brushed her cheek against the feathers. “Like down.”

“It is down.”

Rarity grinned at her. “Better than a down pillow, though. Soft and warm.” She gave Dash a gentle push, following her down onto the mattress, and snuggled there with her face pressed against the underside of Dash’s wing.

Now Dash’s hooves were free, and she used them to explore Rarity’s body. Her mane was still damp and cool, but against it her coat blazed with warmth, as though a bonfire burned within that perfect chest. She wrapped her legs around Rarity’s chest and enjoyed the faint beat of her heart.

She could get used to this.

After a moment Rarity lifted her head, staring intently at Dash’s feathers. She pursed her lips and blew, setting them to shake and tremble, then eased her nose down to brush against their tips. It tickled, and Dash couldn’t help the grin that broke out on her face.

Rarity didn’t notice, so intently was she staring at Dash’s feathers. “This… this is an intimate thing for pegasi, isn’t it? Letting someone preen your feathers?”

“Kinda? It’s like letting someone brush you, or comb your mane, except they have to use their lips. That makes it a bit more personal, you know?” She ran a hoof through Rarity’s mane, struck for a moment with the question of what it must taste like. Fruity shampoo, probably. Still, she had plenty of time to find out. She lifted her head, trying to nab a bit, but with Rarity’s weight on her chest she couldn’t quite reach.

“Hmm. How do I… you know. Do that?”

“Uh…” Rainbow Dash frowned. How to distill years of thoughtless practice, an instinct woven into her bones, into mere words? “Just pretend you’re brushing them, I guess. You can feel the ones out of alignment with your lips. Try to nudge them back into place. Gently, though. And don’t pull any.”

Rarity shifted her weight, sliding up Dash’s body until her lips could reach the base of Dash’s wing. She dipped her head haltingly, hesitating a hair away, and Dash could feel the warm wash of her breath filling the spaces between her feathers. It was like flying on a warm summer day, and she closed her eyes with a quiet sigh.

Rarity’s first touch was electric. Her lips barely brushed Dash’s feathers, but after a moment she grew bolder, pressing her muzzle harder, letting the feathers slide between her lips one at a time as she angled her head along the grain. She felt Rarity’s tongue slip out, sweeping across the vanes, leaving them wet and hot.

It wasn’t particularly skillful, but that wasn’t the point. Rainbow Dash felt her breath catch, and her skin tingled with each light tug of a feather by Rarity’s lips. She preened her own wings every day, of course, but the feeling of another pony with their mouth on her skin, gently tugging at this most sensitive part of her body, seemed to reach into her very soul, as though Rarity had broken her open and ran her tongue along the beating surface of Dash’s heart.

Not the most sensitive part of her body, she concluded with a shuddering exhalation. That would be the hot coal between her legs, where Rarity’s thigh was pressed, and where she no doubt felt Dash’s growing arousal.

And that was the tipping point for this encounter, she realized. Granted, things were already getting pretty hot and heavy, what with Rarity practically licking her wing, but every liaison had a point where it crossed from merely intimate to downright sexual, and judging by the way Rarity was moving her thigh, grinding it against Dash’s crotch, that point was in the past.

“Stop squirming, darling,” Rarity whispered. But she smiled as she spoke, and she pressed her thigh firmly between Dash’s legs. The resulting shudder shook them both, and Rarity hooked a foreleg over Dash’s shoulder to stay in place. When Dash could breathe again, Rarity returned her attention to preening, and for a while she alternated between nibbling at Dash’s feathers with her lips and teasing Dash’s sex with her thigh.

Then it was her other wing’s turn.

It wasn’t long before the sheets beneath them grew damp with sweat. The air wrapped around Dash’s head like a wool blanket, hot and thick with musk and the mingled odors of their sweat and arousal. She grasped Rarity’s foreleg and pulled it up to her muzzle and dragged her tongue up it all the way to the unicorn’s shoulder. It tasted like cotton and salt, defiled with the heavy, heady tang of sex.

Rarity lifted her lips from Dash’s wing. Strands of mane were plastered across her face, and her unfocused eyes blinked owlishly in the dim room. She giggled at the touch of Dash’s tongue and tried to pull her arm free.

Which, of course, could never be allowed to happen. A tug turned into a scuffle, and soon they were rolling on the bed, arms and legs and wings all tangled, mouths kissing and licking. An errant hoof bopped Dash’s nose, and she growled, pushing with all her strength until finally Rarity was pinned beneath her. They paused there, both panting, with their hooves wrapped around each other's shoulders. Rarity’s neck was just inches away, and Dash lowered her lips to it, kissing the skin gently, then nibbling, then biting, over and over until Rarity squealed.

The sound was a song to her ears, the taste of Rarity’s skin better than any candy. The cloying odor of musk clouded her mind, and she drew in a deep, shuddering breath when a sharp pain in her ear broke through the fog. Rarity’s teeth fastened on it, and she twisted her head, rolling Dash onto her back. Rarity wasn’t a heavy mare, but she bore down with all her weight, pressing Dash into the mattress. Her teeth were needles, her jaw a vice, and Dash gasped. A weak, fillyish cry escaped her lungs, and her face burned with humiliation at the sound.

“Shh… shh…” Rarity’s voice was an exhalation. She slowly let up the pressure with her jaws, and a moment later the pain was replaced by the soothing touch of Rarity’s tongue lapping at the insulted flesh. “Ah, darling I’m sorry. You’re bleeding just a bit.”

It was several moments before Dash could respond. She chuckled and closed her eyes, revelling in the feel of Rarity’s tongue. “I’m fine. Just, you know, startled me.”

“Mhm.” Rarity’s lips twitched against Dash’s ear. The little bitch was smiling – she’d get her for that later.

Rainbow Dash ran a hoof along Rarity’s side. It was hot and slick with sweat. Funny, the Rarity she knew should have been appalled at this, clawing her way toward the shower, but instead they lay tangled in each other, dripping on each other, while Rarity’s tongue soothed her wounds.

“Are you always like this in the sack?” she asked.

Rarity lifted her head to nuzzle Dash’s cheek, then gave her a long, lingering kiss before answering. “I try to adapt to my partner.”

“Considerate of you.” Dash flicked her ear, and couldn’t help but grin. It already felt swollen and hot. “Leaving marks, though. What will ponies say.”

“Who cares?” Rarity gave her another kiss, then pushed up with her forelegs, looming over Dash’s prone form. Her mane spilled in tangles and ringlets over her shoulders, long enough to tickle at Dash’s chest, and she rested a hoof on Dash’s belly, tracing it in circles that slowly descended, lower and lower, well past her navel.

There. Dash squeezed her eyes shut, her whole body giving a tiny jerk as Rarity’s hoof brushed against her nipples. They both froze, aware that some new boundary between them was on the verge of falling.

“Last chance, darling,” Rarity whispered. “Do you want to keep going?”

Duh. Normally Dash would’ve had some sarcastic quip ready to go here, but instead all she could do was give a small, jerky nod.

Are you sure? She’s a friend, and you remember what happened the last time you crossed those lines. Memories of her past two lovers returned – Soarin panting with her atop a cloud, their race finished, about to start the wrestling match that would end with her pinned and pinned beneath him. Cloud Fire following her into the shower after her first air show.

And, after a few seconds of thought, not noticing Rarity’s raised eyebrow, she realized she didn’t care. Transgressing the boundaries of friendship, smearing over them with love (or lust, or sex, or whatever this was about) had never hurt her. Life had hurt her, but she needed to keep living.

Rarity was still waiting, she realized. Apparently a nod wasn’t enough. She licked her lips, finding them suddenly dry as parchment. “Yeah. I do.”

“Good.” Rarity gave her a smile. “So do I.” She lowered her head to place a kiss on Dash’s navel, and she scooted her body down until she could lie comfortably on the mattress, her shoulders level with Dash’s hips. She kissed Dash’s belly again and gently wrapped her forelegs around Dash’s thighs, pulling them apart to expose her most intimate areas to the night.

Dash swallowed. Her breath came in hitches and starts. “Have you, uh, ever done this? With a mare, I mean?”

Rarity paused between kisses. “With a mare? No. But I think I know a little bit about what mares like. We’ll see, I suppose.” She lowered her head, and the tip of her tongue darted out to lick Dash’s nipple. And again, and again.

The first touch of Rarity’s tongue was like an electrode. The feel of a hot, wet tongue rasping against such a sensitive, intimate part of her body convulsed her. When Rarity’s teeth joined the act, it was all Dash could do not to yelp and pull away.

But Rarity was gentle. Her teeth merely held Dash in place while her tongue laved the nipple trapped between them. Each rasp sent a jolt racing between her legs, and she found her hips bucking rhythmically, attempting to grind her crotch against Rarity’s chest.

What a mess that must be making. Rainbow shuddered at the thought, and tried to wrap her ankles around Rarity’s back to trap her. Alas, she wasn’t quite flexible enough for that, and Rarity looked up, a wicked grin splitting her face.

“Patience, darling.” She closed her teeth on Dash’s nipple, just hard enough to draw out a yelp, but in a flash she was back to kissing, her soft lips tracing their way down the last inches of Dash’s belly to the junction of her thighs. She paused there, her eyes drinking in the sight, then turned her head to the side to place a few light nibbles on the inside of Dash’s leg.

“Please, please…” Dash’s hooves pressed Rarity’s head down, sliding through her mane, anything to get her to use that tongue where was needed most.

Rarity froze. Her head tilted enough for their eyes to lock, and she spent a long moment meeting Dash’s gaze. Then, her eyes never moving, she lowered her muzzle, slowly, a hair at a time, until Dash felt her hot breath, and then a light touch, gentle as a feather, as Rarity’s lips met her crotch.

Dash couldn’t see what happened next; she could only watch Rarity’s eyes. But she felt Rarity’s tongue dart out to lap at her sex. Once, twice, then firmly, sliding it between Dash’s lips and dragging it up to the little nub hidden at the top, and this time Rainbow Dash did shout. She gasped for breath as Rarity attacked her bud. Dainty hooves, now remorseless, held her open, peeled her lips apart to reveal the hot, wet, secret flesh that only Dash’s lovers had ever known. Her slick folds offered no resistance to Rarity’s probing tongue.

Rarity was done with teasing, it seemed. She bore down, her lips surrounding the tiny nub enfolded in Dash’s sex, drawing it out for her tongue to ravage. It was fast, hard and merciless.

Rainbow Dash barely lasted ten seconds. A pressure grew within her, like a balloon about to burst, only needing a pin. She gasped for breath, jerking, desperate for the final nudge to push her over the edge. Don't stop! Don't stop! Oh Celestia don't stop!

Rarity didn't. Her tongue played inside Dash for another few moments, then slid back up her slit to the tiny nub hiding between her folds. A brush, a touch and a lick were all it took. The pressure between her legs peaked; the balloon burst; the powder keg exploded. She cried out as the orgasm shook her body, and the dark room filled with a brilliant white light, after which came only darkness.

She might have passed out for a moment. Or perhaps not. But for several seconds all she could see were little sparks dancing in the corners of her vision, and feel Rarity’s weight bearing down on her hips. When she finally remembered to breathe, air flooded into her lungs, tainted with musk and sex and Rarity’s breath as the unicorn pressed their lips together for a long, slow kiss.

The kiss broke, and Rainbow Dash ran her tongue along Rarity’s muzzle. Her own fluids darkened Rarity’s jaw, and they were sour and sharp, but she licked until she could taste nothing but Rarity’s skin and the salt of her sweat.

At some point they had flipped over, and now Rarity lay beneath her, mumbling quiet nothings as Dash nipped at her neck. There were a few red welts lurking beneath the short, fine hairs of her coat, left from their earlier play, and Dash placed little kisses on them by way of apology.

She nibbled her way up to Rarity’s ear. “First time with a mare? Really?”

A hoof swatted her shoulder. “Are you complaining?”

“After that?” Dash snickered. “I feel lucky to have survived.” She punctuated this with another kiss on Rarity’s chest, then another, and another, each lower than the one before.

Rarity murmured a quiet approval, her body shivering beneath Dash's. She waited until Dash was licking at her belly before interrupting. “You don't have to reciprocate, darling. I assure you, I enjoyed that as much as you did.”

“Yeah, well... maybe I want to.”

Rarity chuckled. “By all means, then. Proceed.” She set her head back on a pillow, and spread her legs without the slightest hesitation.

Dash stared at the bounty before her. Rarity's crotch was just like the rest of her – beautiful. A tight stomach met perfectly curved legs, and between them a pair of dainty, perfect lips waited for her. They were swollen now, slick with moisture, and a pair of darker folds spilled from between them. She felt herself starting to grow hot again just seeing it.

Okay, you can do this. It's just like with Soarin. Except it wasn't. Soarin had a cock, for one. Rarity most certainly did not. Dash lowered her head until her muzzle was just inches away. A tantalizing musky scent teased her brain, egging her on to ravage the sweet, sensitive flesh before her. No, definitely no cock here.

That's fine. Just do what Rarity did. Right. She could do that. Simple. Dash took a breath and blew it out gently. Rarity moaned quietly, and a drop of that clear fluid ran down her lips. C'mon, champ. Now or never.

She started with a kiss, pressing her muzzle lightly against Rarity's lips. Her tongue darted out cautiously, flicking at the moist folds. The taste was... unusual. Salty and sharp, but not unpleasant. She licked at Rarity again, eager for more. The unicorn moaned again, her hips bucking gently against Dash's snout.

That was all the encouragement she needed. Her tongue pressed deeper with each stroke, and she used her hoof to hold Rarity open, exposing more of that wet flesh. Rarity's inner lips spread like the petals on a flower. Dash nibbled at them curiously, and was rewarded with another sharp gasp and buck from Rarity's hips.

Dash grinned and slid her tongue deeper between Rarity's folds, teasing at the entrance to her passage. Rarity's hooves grasped at her mane, pressing her snout harder into her crotch. Each brush of Dash's tongue was met with a low moan and a spasm deep inside the unicorn. Her fluids ran freely down Dash's chin, soaking Rarity's tail and the sheets beneath them.

Eventually Rarity's moans faded, and even the most athletic licking did little more than provoke a quiet, satisfied coo. Dash pulled away for a moment, ignoring the disappointed groan, and considered her options. What had Soarin always done next? Oh, duh. Equestria to idiot. With both her hooves, she spread Rarity's lips apart, exposing the shy bud nestled at their peak. It bobbed gently with each breath from the unicorn, almost invisible in the darkness. Slowly, carefully, Dash brushed it with the tip of her tongue. The reaction was everything she hoped for.

“Yes!” Rarity shouted. The hooves in Dash's mane twisted, pulling her closer and tighter, mashing her snout against Rarity's mound.

Dash grinned at the sound and licked harder at the tiny nub of firm flesh. Rarity's hips shuddered, bucking against Dash's muzzle like she was a stallion trying to rut. Dash leaned forward to press her against the bed. For such a seemingly unathletic unicorn, Rarity could sure put up a fight.

Ultimately, it didn't matter; each lick seemed to drive her a bit more wild, and only a minute later she let out a final gasp, her hips straining up, her hooves tearing at Dash's mane. The heat pouring from her crotch was like a furnace, soaking and burning Dash's muzzle. Her entire body shuddered, and then she collapsed in a boneless heap. Her chest shuddered with each breath, and her eyes stared wide and unfocused into the dark.

Dash wormed her way back up Rarity’s body. They were both slick with sweat and other fluids, and the sheets clung to them, and the air stank of sex, and Rainbow Dash loved every bit of it. She rolled onto the mattress, fast against Rarity’s side, and draped her foreleg over the unicorn’s chest while she caught her breath.

“So…” She stopped to nibble on a lock of Rarity’s mane. As expected, it tasted like fruity shampoo. “Good enough?”

Rarity chuckled. “That’s not how it works, darling.” She rolled onto her side, so their chests pressed against each other and their breath mingled between them.

“Yeah, but… c’mon, my ego’s on the line here.”

“Ah, of course.” Rarity kissed the tip of her nose. “It was… good enough.”

“Awesome.” She tried to stifle the yawn that overtook her jaws, but it was hopeless. “So, uh, what now?”

“Now?” Rarity was silent for a time. She seemed wide awake. “Now we sleep, I suppose. We can figure the rest out in the morning.”

That was good advice. Dash meant to say so, to compliment Rarity’s wisdom, but the night was already pressing at her mind, and the bed beneath her was soft, and she felt safe wrapped in Rarity’s embrace.

So, she slept.

* * *

It was hours later when Rainbow Dash awoke.

The moon was high in the southern sky. Its cold light filled the room, painting the floor near the window with square shadows. For Dash’s pegasus eyes, it may as well have been noon.

Rarity was splayed out beside her, dead asleep. At some point they had become disentangled, and now a few inches of damp sheets separated them. Rainbow scooted over to close the gap and pressed her muzzle into the crook of Rarity’s neck. The delicious, intoxicating stink of sex still clung to her, clung to them both, and Rainbow breathed it in jealously.

Rarity stirred. Her eyes flickered open, and the ghost of a smile danced across her lips. She snuggled closer, mumbled something just below Dash’s hearing, and then her lights went out again. Only the slow sound of her breathing filled the room.

What are we?

The question sprung from nothing. Rainbow Dash turned it over in her mind as she watched Rarity sleep. Were they friends? Lovers? Something in between?

She needed to think, and again the cold skies called to her. The empty, frigid expanse of the heavens, where she could soar with her eyes closed for days, letting the freezing air strip away her fear and passion. Where she could be herself.

Slowly, so as not to wake Rarity, she stole from the bed. There was a loose blanket on the floor, kicked off in their passion, and she grabbed it with her mouth, draping it over Rarity’s sleeping form. The unicorn mumbled quietly and gripped it closer with her hooves.

Their room was on the second floor. Dash slipped out the window, closed it behind her, and vanished into the vast dark ocean of the night.

Love is not a Coin

There was a chill in the air when Rarity woke. She felt it on her face and shoulders, and she pulled the blankets up higher to escape it. They were warm and fluffy and reminded her of huddling beneath Dash’s wings, and for a while she didn’t mind the cold.

How must it feel, to always have wings? To carry such a perfect blanket with you wherever you went? Rarity had flown before and found it not much to her liking, but in the muddled haze between sleep and waking, she came to the slow, fuzzy conclusion that the true benefit of wings, regardless of what pegasi thought, was to always be warm or to keep your lover warm.

That would be nice. In fact, it would be nice to have right now. She smiled and rolled over, her hooves searching for her bedmate.

Nothing. Empty blankets and cold sheets. Her eyes popped open and she let out a grumpy snort.

Well, fine. Maybe I did sleep in a bit late.

She yawned, stretched and sat up, aware of what a mess she was. The sheets spilled off her, puddling on the mattress, and she gave her coat a little shake to fluff it out. Her mane was still straight and unstyled except where Rainbow Dash had mangled it in her well-intentioned attempts at grooming.

The room was filled with the scent of stale sex, and she grimaced as she sniffed at herself. It wasn’t that she smelled bad, per se, but it would be obvious to anypony who walked within six feet what she had been up to last night, and probably whom she had done it to. Hopefully Rainbow Dash realized the same thing, and wasn’t traipsing about Ponyville smelling like her. It was, in other words, definitely time for a bath.

A half-hour later, Rarity emerged from the bathroom feeling fresher than she had in days. The sun was well above the horizon, and the frost had melted from the window panes. She nudged the window open with a bit of magic. It let in the morning’s chill, but the air was sweet and clean and smelled faintly of fallen leaves. Under other circumstances, she would have paid for a candle with the same scent. As it was, she leaned on the windowsill and drew in a deep breath, letting the cold shock invade her lungs and chase away the last wisps of sleep draped over her mind.

Sweetie Belle was downstairs in the kitchen, setting out the last plates of what looked to be a lavish breakfast. Rarity stopped at the threshold and blinked at the sight.

“Oh, hello Sweetie. I thought you…” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “I didn’t expect to see you this morning.”

“Uh huh.” Sweetie Belle set a steaming teapot on a plate in the center of the table, then pulled out a pair of chairs and sat in one. “You mean, you thought I’d spend the night with my coltfriend, sleep in, and not be back until noon?”

Yes! “Of course not, darling. I just imagined you had better things to do than make us breakfast.” She took the seat beside Sweetie Belle and scooped a few strawberries and slices of melon onto her plate. “But I am very grateful you did. I hope things went well?”

Sweetie nibbled on an apple quarter sprinkled with salt. “They did. We listened to some music and played cards, and then, because I’m such a good little sister and I knew you wouldn’t want anypony listening too closely to you and Rainbow Dash last night, I stayed the night. On his couch.”

“Mhm.” Rarity poured herself a cup of the tea and held it beneath her muzzle to inhale the steam. Some sort of fruity chai mate. She took a tiny sip. Not bad. “Cards and music. Anything… else?”

Sweetie took her time before answering. She polished off the rest of her apple and chased it down with half a cup of tea. “What is it you always say, Rarity? ‘A lady doesn’t kiss and tell’?”

“We’re sisters, Sweetie. We have no secrets.” At least, not about silly things like love. Other secrets – well, some of them were worth keeping.

“I told you, I spent the night on his couch.” For the first time, a faint blush showed through Sweetie’s coat, turning her cheeks a faint shell pink.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow. She was patient. She could wait.

The blush doubled. Sweetie stared at her little teacup, as though addressing it. “And, uh, so did he.”

Rarity grinned. “And?”

“And! That’s all I intend to say.” Sweetie set her teacup down and tilted her muzzle up, but despite the haughty expression a faint smile teased at her lips. “It was a lovely evening and we enjoyed ourselves. But he had to get up early for work and so I came back. Now, what about you and Dash?”

“Oh, that.” Rarity waved her hoof, as though brushing away a pesky fly. “I think we understand each other, now.”

“Understand each other?”

“Yes.”

“Ah.” Sweetie took another sip of her tea. “A euphemism, I assume.”

“No, it really isn’t. We’ve spent so much time together lately, learned so much about each other… I think we do understand each other, and we appreciate each other.” Rarity closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the worst moments of the past two weeks – the horrible sense of shame when Rainbow Dash confronted her for invading her dreams, and the dread she felt upon waking after Rainbow Dash did the same to her. The feeling, inescapable, that no pony could ever stand to lie beside, much less love, a mare so stained by mistakes and greed and self-loathing.

But, of course, there was one such pony. The most loyal pony who had ever lived, and Rarity realized she was a fool for not seeing it sooner.

“Oh.” Sweetie Belle swallowed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply. I’m very glad for both of you, and I’m very proud of how much you’ve helped her.”

“Would you believe she helped me more?” Rarity smiled as she set her teacup down and stood. “Oh, and it was also a euphemism.”

Sweetie blinked. “Wait, so you did…”

Rarity let her grin speak for itself.

Sweetie laughed. It was a light, airy sound, like bells, and Rarity could have listened to it all day. A moment later Sweetie swept her up in a hug, and they held each other tight.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you, sis!” Sweetie leaned back and gave Rarity a gentle punch in the shoulder. “So, is it official now? Can I call you a couple?”

“We should probably ask Rainbow Dash first.” Speaking of the mare, Rarity glanced around the kitchen for any sign of her departure. “Where is she, anyway? Did you catch her when she came down?”

There was a moment’s pause. Sweetie tilted her head. “Er, no? I thought she was still asleep. With you.”

For the first time that morning, a niggling worm of uncertainty crawled its way up the back of her neck. Why had the bed been empty? Did Dash have somewhere else to be?

Or was there someplace she didn’t want to be?

Sweetie was still staring at her. Rarity shook herself from her reverie and put on a smile.

“Oh, she must've gotten up early. Now that I think about it, she mentioned something about meeting the weather team,” she lied. She had plenty of practice lying – mostly with herself, but it was all the same.

“Anyway, I've got a few errands to run,” she continued before Sweetie could break in. “Thank you for the breakfast, dear. I'll be back in a bit. Taa!”

She couldn't get out the door fast enough.

* * *

The world's surface was a map.

From ten thousand feet in the air, rivers were sparkling blue lines. Forests were a pastiche of color based on the dominant tree species: scarlet and orange for maples, butter for ashes and birch, brown for the dour oaks. Only the mountains, havens for pines and cedars, kept their green mantle this deep into autumn. Roads were grids, growing denser the closer they approached to the cities. Railroad tracks stitched their way from horizon to horizon like sutures holding the land together. Clouds cast dark shadows on the map, stains where an errant god had spilled her ink.

How many months had it been since Rainbow Dash had looked down at the world from this height? More than half a year, at least. Even her brief glides over the past two weeks, showing off for Rarity, hadn’t been real flight. Not long-distance soaring, the kind pegasi were meant for.

Rainbow Dash couldn’t remember much about the days after the accident. The painkillers the doctors dripped into her bloodstream were powerful drugs, and her stay in the hospital was little more than a hazy, tormented hell. But they kept her from thinking too much about Soarin and Zephyr, or reflecting on the knowledge that, as he lay dying on the charred earth, she had abandoned him.

But she did remember the first time she flew after the accident. The first real flight – not just from cloud to cloud in Cloudsdale. She’d gone out from the city, her broken leg still swaddled and splinted against her chest, and she soared over the vast plains that stretched west of Canterlot.

Out there, with the sky an infinite hollow above, the flat earth expanding boundless below, and the empty air all around, she realized how alone she was. A speck of dust, a single atom in an endless void. And she no longer had a pony to fly by her side.

It was the last time she flew for nearly six months. Until Rarity found her by chance, that day in Fillydelphia two weeks back.

She closed her eyes. A burst of wind tried to knock her off path, but her wings adjusted automatically, dozens of muscles pitching her feathers at just the right angle to stay on course. Even after six months, she was still a natural flyer. The best in the world, they'd once called her.

She’d never been as good as Soarin, though. Faster, yeah, but nopony expected stallions to be fast in the air. Instead he was an artist, spinning and gyring through the most complex aerobatics as easily as most ponies walked across the room. Some days, when they were practicing, she would just watch him go through his routines.

She rolled onto her back, wings still outspread, and stared up at the sky. A few high cirrus clouds gave texture to the otherwise perfect blue of an autumn morning, and she found herself wondering again what they felt like. Perhaps, somewhere, there was a pegasus whose special talent was to fly so high and hold their breath so long they could touch those faint feathery wisps, and stand on them for a few trembling moments before plummeting back down to earth.

But Rainbow Dash was not that pony. Even at her zenith, the cirrus clouds mocked her from above. She gave them a little frown.

Another gust of wind caught her, and she tumbled in the air, too distracted to respond correctly. She scowled and dove a few thousand feet, searching for a less turbulent zone.

She found calmer air. She couldn't find peace of mind.

* * *

Twilight Sparkle opened the Library door after the second set of knocks. Her mane was frazzled from sleep, and the bags under her eyes suggested she had just woken up.

“Rarity,” she said. Rasped, really. “Come in, come in. I think Spike’s got some coffee brewing. Celestia, I hope he’s got some coffee brewing.”

“I'm sorry, dear. Did I wake you?” Rarity forced the nervous quiver from her voice. She wasn't nervous at all, in fact. She was just fine. Everything was fine.

“It was time to get up anyway,” Twilight said as they trotted to the kitchen. In other words, yes. “Gimme a moment.”

The castle’s kitchen was about five times larger than it needed to be, considering the castle’s only permanent inhabitant was Twilight herself. Four free-standing counters stood in long rows in the middle of the cavernous space, each equipped with food preparation stations that, as far as Rarity knew, had never been used. Above them, hanging like stalactites from pegs over the counters, were hundreds of pots and pans, graters and sieves, glasses and trays and woks – at least ten different woks – all clanging like crystal chimes when a breeze blew through the empty heights. A pegasus could fly up there without feeling cramped.

The kitchen was empty but not uninhabited – Spike was busy at one of the sinks with some glassware. Beside him, already bubbling and filling the air with the lifegiving scent of caffeine, was a gem-fired coffee pot. He looked up as they entered and raised an eyebrow.

“Hey girls,” he said. “Would you like some, uh…” He trailed off as Twilight picked up the coffee pot and carried it over to an empty countertop with a pair of high stools. She set it down, hopped up onto the stool, and stared at the carafe as the reservoir slowly filled with dark liquid.

“Uh, some mugs to go with your coffee?” he finished.

“Thank you, Spikey,” Rarity said. She stood up on her rear legs to give him a peck on the cheek, then carried a pair of mugs over to Twilight’s seat. “Cup, Twilight?”

“Soon, soon.” Twilight gave the pot a nudge with her hoof. “C’mon, fill up. Fill faster.”

Rarity rolled her eyes. In its own way, it was reassuring that no matter how long she was gone from Ponyville, some things never changed – things like Twilight’s tendency to stay up too late with her books, and then loll in bed the next morning until Spike literally dragged her out. Apparently, even being a princess couldn’t turn their librarian into an early bird.

Soon enough they each had a steaming mug in their hooves, though Twilight’s became an empty mug before Rarity had even finished her first sip. Rarity watched in amazement as Twilight finished her second cup just as quickly, and started on her third.

“Goodness, Twilight. Maybe you should just drink from the pot?”

Twilight snorted. “Spike won’t let me.”

“It’s true,” Spike said. He shut off the sink and dried his claws on a towel hanging from a cabinet handle. “Somedrake has to enforce the rules.”

Rarity eyed the dwindling pot. “Well, I’d offer you a cup, but I’m not sure we’ll have any to spare.”

“It’s fine, I prefer tea anyway. Anyway, I’m going to Sugarcube Corner. Want anything?”

“I already ate, but thank you, darling.”

Twilight shook her head. “No. Wait, yes! Get some of those pink strawberry muffins with the sugary crumbly stuff on top.”

The minutes after Spike’s departure were silent as Twilight finished her third cup of coffee. Rarity sipped at the rest of hers, and wondered if it would be better to start their conversation now, or wait until after Twilight’s inevitable retreat to go pee.

Finally, Twilight set her mug down and let out a long sigh. “Ah, that’s the stuff. Best number one assistant ever.”

“Better, dear?”

“Yes, much.” Twilight's voice was almost normal. “Now, what brings you by so early?”

Rarity glanced at the clock over the stove. It was nearly ten in the morning. She looked back at Twilight, and then back at the clock.

“Er, uh, sometimes I stay up reading for a few minutes.” She took another sip. “Or hours. Anyway! How are you?”

“Oh, good, good. You haven't seen Rainbow Dash around, have you?”

“Like, while I was sleeping?”

Oh, hm. Rarity frowned. “I suppose not. I apologize, Twilight. I've woken you up, and now I'm bothering you with silly questions.”

Twilight chuckled. “It's okay, Rarity. Like I said, time to get up anyway. And now I have coffee, so everything is fine.”

Ah, would that all of life's problems could be solved by coffee. Rarity sighed wistfully. “Actually, dear, as long as I've got you... do you mind if I ask another question?”

“Not at all.” Twilight set the mug down, looking interested. “What would you like to know?”

“Well, it's about your coltfriend, Time Turner...” Rarity trailed off, trying to order her thoughts.

“Oh, I was thinking about that last night, actually,” Twilight said. “I checked the literature, and the standard for measuring penis length is from the tip of the glans while erect to the base of the scrotum. You're supposed to use a special measuring tape, but I have a length of string that should work just as—”

“Actually, darling, I had a different question.” Though, to be honest, that did sound very interesting and might deserve further consideration at some point. “When did you two fall in love?”

Twilight blinked, her mouth still open. She tilted her head and bit her lip, her eyes turned upward as she thought.

“You know... I'm really not sure. We met at a conference on temporal physics, where he was presenting a theory on the nonlinear nature of time.” She paused to pour herself another cup. “Which is stupid, by the way. Time flows in one direction. Anyway, we got to arguing over some of his equations, and then we got kicked out of the conference, so we had to go to a coffee shop to keep arguing. Then we agreed to meet for dinner to argue some more. At some point we stopped arguing, and just enjoyed talking with each other, and... heh, you know, I don't really know when I fell in love with him. I just kind of realized it one day. How weird is that?”

Rarity sighed. “Not so weird, I think. Dash said the same thing about her and Soarin. Minus everything about physics. And I think she said something about wrestling instead of arguing.”

Twilight nodded. “Love at first sight is for fairy tales. Real life is messier.”

“Too messy, sometimes. Everything was easier when we were just saving the world. Now I look at my parents, or the Cakes, and I realize that what they did was much harder. Loving somepony, living with them, raising foals with them… Stars, Twilight. They’re better heroes than I ever was.”

“Perhaps being in love is everyone’s chance to be a hero.” Twilight took a measured sip of her coffee – apparently her tank was nearly full. “And I think you’re selling yourself a little short, by the way. And not just for saving the world. For being a friend.”

Rarity couldn’t help but blush. “That’s very kind of you, darling.”

“It’s true. And someday I think you’ll make somepony very happy.”

Ah, that again. Rarity found her thoughts circling back to the pegasus who hadn’t woken up beside her that morning. “I wish I shared your confidence, Twilight.”

“I’m not in the habit of making baseless predictions, Rarity. I rely on evidence. For example, the way Rainbow Dash was acting when she showed up here the other morning, demanding that I make another dreamwalking gem for her to use with you. She must care very deeply to want to do that.”

Rarity looked away. “Maybe she was just being a friend. She’s very loyal, you know.”

“Bullshit, Rarity.” To her credit, Twilight blushed as she uttered the vulgarity, but it didn’t slow her down. “There’s being loyal, and there’s being in love.”

If she loves me, where is she now? Rarity bit back the words before they could escape. “I think… I think Dash is still working things out.”

“Uh huh. And if she decides she does love you?”

She’s seen the worst of me. If she can still find room in her heart for me after that… Rarity shook her head. “Let’s not presuppose too much, darling. If you see Rainbow Dash, please tell her to find me.”

And then she left to resume her search.

* * *

The air was calmer a mile above the mountains. As smooth as cream. Dash soared across the sky on still wings, riding from thermal to thermal with the effortless grace that first drew Soarin's eye.

You're an idiot, you know?

Yeah, she knew. It was about the only thing she knew at that moment. Everything else was a confused jumble. Back in Ponyville was a beautiful, caring, generous unicorn who had put herself through hell for Rainbow Dash’s sake. A wonderful mare who had shared everything with her, who helped her more than every other friend she had put together. A lover who brought her back to life. And now she was in a bed by herself, perhaps wondering where Rainbow Dash had flown off to.

She was abandoning her friends to be loyal to a ghost.

“Love is not a coin that you spend once and lose forever.” Rarity's words, dimly remembered, rattled around her mind. Of course, Rarity didn't know anything about love. She'd said so herself.

She called herself a slut. A whore. She really believed those things.

The monster, the fragment of Rarity’s personality that haunted her dreams, it had said there was one thing Rarity would never be able to share, and at the time Rainbow Dash hadn’t given it much thought. After all, the dreams were a confusing, fractured place, filled with memories like poison. But now, flying ten thousand feet in the air, Rainbow realized what she meant.

Her heart. Rarity could never love.

And yet… last night, Rarity had shared her body. And for the past two weeks she had done what no other pony could – she put the pieces of Rainbow Dash back together, even though it meant baring her most painful secrets. Rarity, the pony for whom everything had to be perfect, invited Rainbow in to see the darkest corners of her heart.

“It was always love, wasn’t it?” she mumbled. The rushing wind stole the words away. “The monster was wrong.”

So, there it was. An offer had been presented, if she were brave enough to accept it. If she could set aside Soarin’s memory and admit that another pony had taken his place in her heart.

Six months ago they burned his body and scattered his ashes to the wind. She knew enough about meteorology and atmospherics to know that if she flew for a millions years, through the billions of cubic kilometers of air that surrounded the world, she might never come across a single molecule that had once belonged to her lover. He was gone.

But his spirit remained. When she closed her eyes, she could see his smile and smell his faint scent of sweat and clouds and feathers. She could hear his laugh.

“What would you say, Soarin?” she whispered.

Nothing replied, of course. She couldn’t speak for him, and she didn’t believe in ghosts. There was only the wind, and the answer that she had always known. The only answer he could have ever given, because he was a good pony, better than she deserved.

Be happy.

She sighed and wheeled in the air. She was alone again, a blue dot in the middle of the vast blue sky. She was alone again, but she didn't have to stay that way.

She dove toward the earth, racing back to Ponyville.

* * *

It was nearly noon by the time Rarity made it back home. The morning buzz of the town had ebbed, giving way to the mid-day lull as ponies knocked off from work for lunch or naps. Only the market in the town square was still busy as farmers set out the season’s bounty.

Rainbow Dash was nowhere to be found. Of course, Rainbow was a pegasus, so it was possible that Rarity simply wasn’t looking in the right places. Either way, there was no point in wandering through Ponyville’s streets looking for her. She would return to the Boutique, or she wouldn’t. All Rarity could do was wait.

Studio. It’s Sweetie’s studio now, not the Boutique. She pushed open the door and walked in.
“Sweetie, I'm back. I'll be upstairs if you...” She nearly stumbled. Sweetie was sitting on the couch, munching on the remains of a sandwich.

That wasn't what stopped her. Seated beside Sweetie was a nervous Rainbow Dash. The pegasus licked her lips and stood.

“Hey sis, welcome back.” Sweetie's eyes darted between them. “I'll just leave you two for a moment. Want a sandwich?”

Rarity didn't answer. She couldn't answer. Sweetie waited another moment, then chuckled and trotted into the kitchen.

Silence. From the kitchen came the sound of running water. Dash coughed into her hoof, and broke first.

“Hey, uh... okay, first, I'm sorry about this morning. It was not cool to bail on you like that, especially after all we talked about last night. I'm really, really sorry.”

She waited. Rarity gave her a tiny nod.

“Whew, okay, good,” Dash continued. “Second, I was doing some thinking, and you're right. Love isn't some coin that you just spend once. Love isn't like money at all. You can have as much as you want. I can still love Soarin. I can love Soarin, and maybe love somepony else...” Her voice grew faint, almost inaudible as she finished.

Rarity bobbed her head. The lump in her throat refused to budge, and she swallowed several times before she could speak.

“That's... that's very good to hear, darling. I’ve also been thinking, and speaking to some smart friends. I think… maybe it’s time to forgive myself for some of my mistakes. After all, if somepony can love me, maybe I’m not so worthless after all.”

“You’re not worthless, Rarity. Never.” Dash got up from the couch and walked over, pressing her cheek against Rarity’s. “You’re smart, and generous, and stronger than anypony I’ve ever met.”

Rarity pressed her nose against Dash’s neck and drew in a deep breath. Ozone, like the air after a thunderstorm, and the faint dust of feathers. “There’s one pony I know who’s stronger. She’s loyal, too.”

“Yeah? She sounds like a catch.”

“She’s not bad.” Rarity leaned back and stared into Dash’s eyes. “Can I say it, Dash? I love you.”

Rainbow grinned, and her voice caught as she replied. “And I love you. Rares.” She sniffled. “Heh, wow, took us a while to get around to that, huh?”

Rarity waved a hoof, then dabbed at her eyes with her fetlock. “Good things take time, Darling.” She leaned forward and pressed her lips against Dash's for a long, gentle kiss.

“Wow, okay, yeah,” Dash said sometime later. “You and me, though... We're a bit different. Can it really work?”

Rarity tilted her head. “You said it took awhile for you and Soarin to realize you were in love, right?” When Dash nodded, she continued. “Well, I'm willing to give it a try, if you are.”

And they did.

Epilogue: The Greatest Treasure

Some months later…

Rainbow Dash slipped her goggles over her neck and gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror. Her mane was still unruly despite Rarity's constant effort to get it styled. She looked, perhaps, a little rounder, a little less gaunt. Her muscles and sinews no longer showed so clearly through her coat.

Not bad, all things considered.

She trotted downstairs, where Rarity had laid out breakfast. Fruit again. Rarity was not, Dash had learned, the best cook in the world. She chuckled at the thought and inhaled a few bites, then grabbed the bag lunch Rarity had left on the table. A tiny yellow note, filled with her flowing script, was taped to the top:

Remember Sweetie's recital tonight. Love, -Rarity

Ah, fun. Three hours of listening to ponies trying to sing. Still, it made Rarity happy, and Sweetie would certainly blow them all away again. Why she bothered staying in Ponyville when the whole world wanted to hear her was a mystery to Dash.

She tucked the lunch in her saddlebags and flew out the door to work.

* * *

The skies above Ponyville were filled with clouds. The late winter sun was still low in the sky, adding little warmth to the pegasi laboring around her. A snowstorm was due in a few hours, and they still had an entire high pressure system to push away before the storm could move in. Dash watched the progress of the flight around her, offering a few corrections as the less-experienced pegasi struggled with the thick, heavy clouds.

She heard a subdued *pfft* behind her and turned to see a pegasus who most certainly did not work for the Ponyville Weather Team standing on a cloud, just a few feet away.

Dash gave the newcomer a nod. “Captain Spitfire. Welcome to Ponyville.”

Spitfire shook off her goggles and gave Dash weak smile. “Lieutenant. You don't know how good it is to see you back in the air.”

“Heh, yeah... things are better now.”

“I'm glad to hear that.” Spitfire paused, watching the dozens of pegasi working around them. “You know, since things are better... are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yup. Why, want to talk me out of it?”

“I'd be lying if I said I didn't.” Spitfire sighed, then reached back into her saddlebags and pulled out a small envelope. “Your paperwork is complete. Lieutenant Dash, you are hereby assigned to the Equestrian Aerial Demonstration Team reserve squad. You will complete at least one training session per month, and attend at least one air show per year. Do you understand these orders?”

“I do.” Dash grinned at her. “And thanks for pushing that through.”

“Eh, you deserve it.” Spitfire passed the envelope to Dash, who stuck it in her saddlebags. “And hey, if you ever change your mind...” She left the rest unsaid.

“Thanks, but I don't see it happening. Things are... things are really good here.” Dash turned around to watch her team reposition a few more clouds. She'd been running the team for less than two months, but already they responded to her directions like she was an old hand.

“Mhm... You know, I've met Rarity a few times. Forgive me, but she doesn't seem like your type. Are you sure it's going to work out?”

Dash tilted her head. She had asked the same question dozens of times. At night, before she fell asleep in Rarity's arms. In the morning, waking up nestled against her soft coat. When they were together. When they were away. Always, the answer was the same.

“I don't know, Spits. I don't think anypony ever knows. But I haven’t been this happy since before Soarin died.” Saying his name didn't hurt anymore. It was like a scar – always with her, but no longer bleeding. No longer a wound in her psyche.

Spitfire nodded. “Alright, I'll leave you be.” She turned and trotted away, but stopped at the edge of the cloud. “Hey, Dash?”

“Yeah?”

“You could've led the team, someday. You still can. If you change your mind, you could be the greatest Wonder Bolt ever.”

Dash was silent for a moment. She looked over the edge of the cloud, down at the bustling town below. Somewhere in that mass of buildings, a white unicorn was hard at work on her dresses. In the back of her mind, Dash knew, she would be thinking of a sky blue pegasus with a garish mane.

“Yeah, I could be.” She turned to give Spitfire a smile. “And maybe, someday. But today, I'd rather be the happiest pegasus in Ponyville."

And she was.

Prologue: A Chance Meeting

“Excuse me, um, do you need help c-carrying those, m-miss?”

Rarity glanced over her shoulder. The speaker, a young unicorn colt with lanky legs and a face full of acne, gazed up at her with a look of besotted adoration. He wore a vest embroidered with the store's name, Acclaim!, and the door he was supposed to be holding open for the rest of the fashion outlet's customers had swung shut, nearly striking an older pegasus mare in the face. Rarity couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face. Mm. Still got it.

“Oh, darling, that's quite noble of you.” She batted her eyes at him and glanced at the packages floating serenely in the air behind her. Truth be told, she wouldn't mind having a personal valet to carry them back to her apartment. Not that she needed the help – it simply meant she could shop even more. She made a show of considering the colt's offer, and just as she was about to accept, a flash of blue outside the wide glass windows caught her eye.

Rainbow Dash, of all ponies, was standing across the street. She ignored the hustle and bustle of the busy city around her as she looked into a small bookshop's window display. Her mane, as shockingly bright and garish as Rarity remembered, danced in the light autumn wind.

Rarity nearly dropped her packages in surprise.

“Sorry, maybe next time!” she said to the colt, not even bothering to face him. She pulled the door open and dashed across the street, dodging around one of the light rail carriages that ran all throughout Fillydelphia's uptown district. Rainbow Dash was still looking into the bookstore when Rarity stopped just behind her. Their eyes met in the window display's reflection, and Dash spun around to face her.

“Rarity?” Rainbow Dash looked as surprised as Rarity felt. Her wings flared like she was about to leap into the air. “Ohmigosh... Rarity!”

“It is you!” Rarity felt herself smile uncontrollably. “Why, I thought I saw you across the street, and I thought to myself, 'Surely that cannot be Rainbow Dash!' But here you are! What are you doing in Fillydelphia, dear?”

The smile faded from Dash's face, and her wings settled back to her sides. She bit her lip and glanced around the sidewalk before she answered.

“Oh, you know, just taking some personal time,” she said. Her voice was as scratchy as ever, though deeper than Rarity remembered from their magical years in Ponyville. “The Bolts wrapped up for the season last week. Good time to travel, right?” The smile reappeared, but tight around the edges. It didn't reach her magenta eyes.

“Well, any time is a good time for travel, I always say!” The pleasantries rolled off Rarity's tongue without effort. Hundreds of nights attending soirees and garden parties hosted by the highest minds in Equestrian fashion gave her countless opportunities to practice the art of speaking without really saying anything, and while she spoke, she studied Rainbow Dash's face and posture.

She didn't like what she saw.

There were still bags beneath Dash's eyes. Her ears never seemed to point in the same direction, always swiveling about, as though a thousand phantom sounds assailed her. The bright mane that caught Rarity's eye before seemed almost dull, now that she was close enough to count the individual strands.

“So, how have you been?” Rarity asked, as though the answer weren't obvious. She tried to keep the concern out of her voice. “I haven't seen you since the, ah...”

“Funeral,” Dash finished for her. “And I'm good. You know. Getting better.”

Rarity cleared her throat. How long had it been? Almost half a year, she realized. A cold spring drizzle tinged with sleet had fallen the whole day of the funeral. It was like the weather had shared in their mourning. Knowing the pegasi, perhaps it had. She shook her head to banish the memories.

“Yes, that's good to hear. Very good to hear.” She forced herself to smile again. “Have you seen any of the girls since then?”

“Huh?” Dash jerked slightly – lost in her own memories, apparently. She gave a little scowl at something, then looked back at Rarity, her expression calm once more. “Nah, been... busy. Real busy. With flying, and stuff.” A pause. “And traveling! Yup, been going everywhere. Lots of travel.”

The sidewalk traffic continued to flow around them, and in an unspoken accord they turned and walked side-by-side down the street. Upscale stores with fanciful displays – here a haberdashery, selling brightly plumed hats; there a glassblower, his window filled with a thousand wondrous creations – passed beside them, barely meriting a glance. Stately maples lined the streets, their leaves blushing red with autumn's late grandeur. Rarity ducked her head to avoid an errant branch.

“Yes, travel. How wonderful.” Rarity considered her next move. It felt like she was walking on thin ice. “Have you considered visiting Ponyville while you're free? I just know the girls would love to see you.”

“Ponyville?” An irritated, almost pained look flashed across Dash's face, though Rarity couldn't for the life of her understand why. Surely Dash didn't blame anything that had happened on Ponyville? That was years ago, and—

“What about you?” Dash interrupted her musing. “When was the last time you went home?”

“Home?” Rarity blinked. “Well, I was just heading back to my apartment... oh! You mean Ponyville, of course. I suppose it's been over a year now.”

“Why don't you go back more often?”

The question brought Rarity up short. She stopped in her tracks, then quickly stepped out of the way of a unicorn stallion and his family. A pair of young fillies toddled by, following in their father's path.

“Well, Dash... I suppose this is home for me, now.” She made a vague gesture with her hoof to encompass the bustling metropolis all around them. This, she realized the moment she first stepped in Fillydelphia, all those years ago, was home. The city was everything she ever hoped for, filled with shops and art and restaurants and ponies, a hundred thousand ponies all clamoring their way up society's ladder.

“Exactly,” Dash said. She nodded, as though she had somehow proven her point. An uncomfortable silence stretched out between them. Rarity felt the ice cracking beneath her hooves.

“But you know,” she gushed. “I was thinking just the other day of visiting Ponyville again! I mean, it's been so long, right? Why, we could visit together, Rainbow Dash. We could... we could get the whole gang back together!” Her worried smile was replaced by a small, hopeful one.

Dash stared at her for a moment, then frowned and looked down at the sidewalk. Her wings flexed one at a time before settling back to her sides. She chewed on her lip for a moment. Finally, she snorted.

“Yeah, Ponyville. I guess that would be cool,” she said, a bit of her old swagger coming back. “We could party with Pinkie, grab some drinks with Applejack... heh, even Twilight would be fun to hang out with again.”

Rarity let out a tiny breath. Success! Her smile relaxed and grew wider. “Wonderful, dear. I have a few things to tie up here, but I can grab a train...” She trailed off. She had been about to say “tonight,” but that wouldn't work.

Some loose ends took more than a day to tie off.

“I can grab a train tomorrow night,” she continued after only a brief lapse. Hopefully not enough for Dash to notice. “Oh, this is going to be fun. I haven't seen Sweetie Belle in months!”

“Right, fun. It's gonna be awesome.” Rainbow Dash nodded, but her gaze was off to the side. Rarity couldn't help the feeling that Dash was trying to convince herself of that truth.

“Well, I'm so glad we ran into each other. Why, this is the best thing that's happened to me all month.” Rarity stepped forward to give her friend a hug. Dash started to flinch, almost as if afraid of the contact, but it was too late to escape. Rarity's forelegs wrapped around Dash's shoulders, and she gave a little squeeze.

Rarity had always been trim, the result of an obsession with her body image that, at times, bordered on the unhealthy. A careful diet, light exercise and an incessant work schedule gave her a perfect form. She was sleek, with just enough curves to catch a suitor's eye and say to them, “Hello, darling. Yes, you. I just wanted you to know that I am emphatically female.”

Rainbow Dash, as Rarity now felt, was beyond trim.

If Rarity took one of the wooden clothes horses from her boutique and wrapped it round with iron cords, she could not have more closely emulated the pegasus in her grasp. There was not a scrap of loose flesh on Rainbow Dash's body. Her muscles were taut bands just beneath her hide. It was like hugging a suit of armor.

She gave Dash another squeeze, then stood back.

“You... you're doing okay, right?” she asked in a whisper. The tension she felt in Dash's body was like a coiled spring, wound far beyond its tolerances and ready to snap.

“I'm fine,” Dash said. “You worry too much, Rares.” She reached out a hoof and poked Rarity in the chest. A friendly gesture; Rarity winced anyway.

“Aha, yes, I suppose I do.” Rarity cleared her throat. “Well, I need to get these packages back to my place, but I can't wait to see you--”

“Hey, you wanna hang out tonight?”

“Tonight? Well...” The question knocked her off balance, and she glanced around, stalling for time. For some reason she couldn't meet Dash's eyes. “The thing is, dear, I already have some plans for tonight.”

“Oh. That's cool.” Dash's face was a study in indifference. “No biggie. We'll see each other in Ponyville.”

Plans? Is that what you're calling it now?

“Exactly,” Rarity said. She ignored the nagging voice in her head. “I'm glad you understand.”

Oh, I'm sure she'd understand. She might not want to be your friend anymore, but she'd under—

“Well, I'm afraid I need to get these things back to my apartment,” Rarity continued, rolling right over her own thoughts. “I can't wait to see you, though. Ta ta!” She leaned forward to give Dash a friendly nuzzle followed by a sheepish nod, and then she turned and stepped away.

Her apartment was in the other direction, of course, but it would've been awkward to spend much more time in that conversation. She cut across the next block and circled her way back home. Her last sight of Rainbow Dash was a forlorn blue spot in the crowd, quickly subsumed by the bustle of Fillydelphia.

* * *

Rarity's apartment was on the floor above her boutique. It was, in a way, not unlike the arrangement she had when she owned the Carousel Boutique in Ponyville. She could work downstairs during the day and retire upstairs at night. And, of course, go shopping in the finest fashion district in the world whenever she wanted.

Her assistants had already closed up the shop by the time she returned. A neat stack of orders lay on her bookkeeper's desk, and she spent a moment flipping through them in search of anything interesting. Most were for copies of last fall's designs, just now coming back into vogue with the advent of colder weather. She would have to check her stock of fabric to make sure there was enough for all these orders.

At the bottom of the stack was a request for something new, a bespoke evening gown for a wealthy socialite Rarity had had the fortune to design for in the past. Just reading the description sent her into a moderate tizzy. Autumn foliage in rubies and lace? I can do that. She scribbled a quick note on the order, instructing her assistants to schedule a fitting session as quickly as possible. The quill was already back in its holder when she realized her error and scribbled in another line. Schedule a meeting as soon as possible – after next week.

She gave the rest of the shop a quick glance – the waiting area was pristine as always, with samples of her finest work on display. A few fashion magazines, carefully selected to feature her own wares, sat on the table. The workroom was a bit of a mess, but she let that slide. Having assistants meant making compromises, and the neatness she had so prided herself on back in Ponyville was one. Besides, creative chaos sometimes led to better results.

The apartment upstairs was spacious, nearly as large as her entire boutique back in Ponyville. Custom oak furniture, wrought by some of the best earth pony crafters, decorated each room. The walls and floor were accented in the same blues as her boutique, all of it designed to showcase the room's most precious content.

Her, of course.

She set the pile of packages down in her bedroom and turned to the closet. Calling it a closet was a bit of an understatement – it was almost half as large as the bedroom itself, with multiple aisles and shelves filled with every hat, saddle, shoe, dress or gown a pony could imagine. Each item seemed to call out to her, begging her to select it for the evening.

What to wear, what to wear. A vexing question indeed. Aside from merely impressing her date, she had to consider the environment. Dinner at one of the city's nicest restaurants? Dozens of potential customers would see her. Or later at the theatre, taking in a showing of The Mare and the Night? Hundreds of ponies might see her! She considered a wide-rimmed cerulean hat with an ostrich plume. Too fancy?

Oh, just wear what you always wear.

She scowled at the hat and moved on. A sleek black gown on a hanger beckoned her. Simple, yet sophisticated. Good for any occasion, really.

You already know what you're going to pick. Something slutty.

“No, I don't think so,” she said to the gown. She was still young for her social position, and she needed something that showed off her youth. Something that showed off her skill, but also reminded ponies who she was. She turned down the next aisle.

The blue dress caught her eye instantly. It was more of a slip, really – rich, dark blue fabric that shimmered in the dim light. She plucked it from its hanger and pranced into her bedroom to stand before the mirrors. With a thought and a bit of magic, the dress floated into position, lightly draping itself over her back. She fixed the clasp over her breast and looked up to see the result.

The unicorn in the mirror was stunning. Even with a mane slightly askew from a day of shopping, she would easily be the most beautiful mare in the theater, including the actors up on stage. The deep blue dress matched her eyes and offset her royal purple hair. She really should wear blue more often.

She nodded at her reflection and floated the dress to a nearby rack to wait. She had a few hours to kill before their dinner reservation, which meant she barely had enough time for a bath.

* * *

“So, does your sister still live in Ponyville?”

Rarity smiled across the table at her date. They had just finished the main course – a sinfully delightful plate of lightly toasted oats garnished with carrot slices and drizzled in honey – and were waiting for the desert to arrive. It was one of the better meals she'd enjoyed in months.

Even better than the food, of course, were the glances from their fellow patrons. The dim, candlelit restaurant was one of the most expensive in the city, and barely a dozen other couples shared the room with them. From the moment they walked in, Rarity had been subject to every stallion's eye. She drank their attention like a flower drinks sunlight.

“She does, she does,” Rarity answered. She paused for a moment while a waiter set their deserts before them. Some sort of carrot cake, she guessed. She gave it a little nibble and had to suppress a moan. So delicious.

“Oh, c’est magnifique,” she continued. “Anyway, Sweetie Belle. I gave her my old boutique to use as a studio. You should hear her sing – I keep telling her she has the talent to make it in a city like this, but she says she wants to stay in Ponyville. Someday I'll get her to change her mind.”

Her date nodded. He was a fine specimen of a unicorn, even by her standards. White coat, just like hers, with a dark blue mane that was stylish in a slightly unkempt manner, as though he had more important things to worry about than his hair. He worked for the crown in one of Celestia's liaison offices at the city center. Fillydelphia sometimes seemed very far away from Canterlot and its courts, and it was easy for most ponies to forget they had a princess. Celestia didn't seem to mind.

He was smart, stylish and handsome. His body was straight out of a fantasy. He was, many mares might have argued, quite the catch.

If only she could remember his name.

It was something to do with marks, she was sure. Feather Mark? No, that's silly. Hardly a name for a stallion. Check Mark, perhaps? Maybe something to do with checks? She disguised her ponderings with another bite of cake.

Oh, like you care about his name, anyway.

“Well, if she's half as talented a singer as you are a dressmaker, she would do well here indeed,” her date said. He tried a bite of the cake and made a pleased sound.

Seems like a nice pony. Better than you deserve. Can't even remember his name, but you'll fuck him as long as he reminds you of—

“Anyway, it's getting a bit late,” she said suddenly. “We should probably start heading to the theatre. I'd rather not get stuck outside with the crowd.”

He glanced at the grandfather clock standing against the wall. There was plenty of time before the show started, even if they ambled to the theatre at a slow mosey. “I suppose it is. Hopefully this show will be as delightful as the dinner.”

She smiled at him and raised a hoof to beckon their waiter. As always, she paid for both their meals and left a generous tip.

* * *

“How did you get tickets for this, anyway?” her date whispered in her ear. His breath tickled her mane, and she leaned a bit closer against his side.

“Oh, a favor here, a favor there,” she whispered back. The actors on stage were volleying lines at each other loudly enough to cover their quiet conversation. “I made a lovely little dress for one of the actresses – I think we'll get to see it in the final act.”

He hummed quietly in response, and they resumed their silence. It was actually quite a good play so far. Romance, intrigue, villains and heroines. Almost like one of the silly romances she had amused herself with as a younger mare, now brought to life on stage.

The lights overhead dimmed for a change of scene, and when they returned, new set pieces had been rolled onto the stage. The prince slept in his bed beneath a glowing moon high above his roofless room. A shadow darted across the stage and leapt through the prince's window.

“Oh, I've heard about this scene,” Rarity whispered. “Apparently it's a bit, ah, risque.”

“Well, it can't be too bad. Otherwise they wouldn't let foals...” He trailed off and glanced around. There were, in fact, no foals in the audience. Up on stage, the heroine slipped into the prince's bed.

“They don't have plays like this back in Ponyville,” Rarity said. She felt herself starting to blush. Beside her, her date shifted in his seat, and it was all she could do not to grin.

* * *

“Thank you for the evening, Miss Rarity.” Her date leaned forward to place a polite kiss on her cheek. “It was delightful. I hope to see you again soon.”

“It was my pleasure, I assure you.” She smiled and lowered her head demurely, trying not to let her thoughts show on her face. Why didn't he ask? Every stallion always asked. Did she have to beg?

You'd like that, wouldn't you? Begging him in the street? At least then he'd know what you are.

“It's still early though, isn't it?” He paused to clear his throat. “Could I, ah, interest you in a drink?”

And there it was. She let out a little sigh of relief. “That's very nice of you to offer. I think I would love a drink or two.”

And maybe something else besides? But hey, might as well keep up the act. You're still a good pony.

He grinned, looking a bit silly, and held open the door to his apartment. She lightly brushed against him as she entered.

The apartment was dark, with only a single lamp keeping the night at bay. Her date bustled around her to turn on a few others, and the rest of his home came into view. It was tidy–either he was unusually organized for a bachelor or he'd entertained some hopes of this very outcome. Most stallions did. She buried a smirk before he came back around, a tumbler and a pair of glasses hovering in the air beside him.

“Is scotch alright?” he asked. “I'd offer some wine, but I don't have anything chilled.”

“A scotch would be delightful,” she said. She stretched out on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her body. It wasn't as nice a couch as hers, but then, he only had a government salary.

It was a good enough couch, she decided.

He took a similar position on the rug in front of the couch and floated a pair of glasses between them. She carefully grabbed one with her magic. They clinked them together and each took a deep sip. The fiery liquid burned its way down her throat and seemed to settle in her chest, filling her with a deep, soothing warmth.

“Oh my,” she said. “That's good stuff.”

He tilted the bottle in the air, inspecting the label. “It was a gift from a few years back, actually. I've been saving it for a special occasion.”

Aww, he called you special. Good thing he doesn't know he's just a nameless stallion filling a hole in your life. That'd kill the mood, wouldn't it?

She ignored her own thoughts, chasing them away with another sip. Besides, he wasn't nameless. Mark, mark, something mark...

“Bright Mark!” she blurted. It was shockingly loud as it broke the romantic quiet.

He started at the sound of his name and gave her a bewildered glance. “Er, yes?”

“Ahem, sorry. I was, just, ah...” She felt herself blushing and hoped it was too dim for him to notice. “Just surprised you would open such a special gift, just for me.” There, that was appropriately sappy.

It seemed to mollify him. He gave her a smile. “I think you underestimate how special you are.”

This time she didn't mind the blush. She finished off her glass and set it down with a very deliberate air, then lowered her head onto her crossed forelegs. Her eyes were level with his. Come on, take a hint!

He did. He set his glass beside hers, then leaned forward to brush her cheek with his lips. It was more of a nuzzle than a kiss, and she hummed encouragingly in response. She felt him smile, and he leaned forward, pressing his mouth against hers. Lightly at first, then more insistently. His tongue pushed against her lips, and she met it with her own. The kiss stretched out for long seconds.

She broke away with a quiet sigh. He wasn't a bad kisser, at least as far as she could judge such things. Firm, but not crassly aggressive with his tongue like so many stallions. She shifted onto her side and gave him her best “come hither” look.

It worked. He took a breath, then followed her up onto the couch. It was barely large enough for the two of them, even with most of him overlapping her. The poor thing simply hadn't been designed for this sort of activity. She grinned at the thought and lifted her head to steal another kiss.

He rested his forelegs on either side of her body, taking enough of his weight that she felt comfortably pressed rather than crushed. She squirmed beneath him, running her hooves up and down his huge chest while they exchanged more kisses. The bite of scotch on his tongue slowly faded as their saliva mingled.

“Wait,” she said. She pushed him away with her hooves and wriggled out from beneath him enough to free her dress. A quick thought and surge of magic unclasped it and floated it off her body. She folded it, very neatly, and then set it on the arm of a chair safely off to the side.

“Ahem. You may continue.” She drew a hoof along his chest as she settled back down onto the couch. He grinned at her, and they spent the next few minutes in a warm haze. The scotch had settled pleasantly into her brain, banishing for a time the critical thoughts that always seemed to pursue her. She didn't think – she simply enjoyed the feel of his tongue against hers and the delightful weight of his body pinning her to the couch.

The kissing stopped, and she was about to open her eyes to see why when she felt his lips press against the side of her neck. She cooed quietly, then drew in a quick breath as he nipped at her skin. So, that's what he likes, hm?

She tilted her chin back, exposing more of her neck to his questing lips. The familiar warmth had finally started to build between her legs, pulsing with the beat of her heart, and she pushed her hips insistently against him. He let out a shuddering breath, warm and hot against her neck, almost as hot as his tongue as he traced a wet trail up to her jaw and then her ear. Her ear flicked around maddeningly before he captured it with his teeth and nibbled on the firm, sensitive flesh.

Rarity absently regretted that she wasn't the one nibbling on him, but it was getting hard to keep her thoughts straight. She settled for running her hooves through his mane, down his back, along his sides and against his chest. His body was pleasantly toned, hard where she was soft, filled with power and strength that screamed masculinity. She writhed beneath him and moaned as the heat between her legs became an inferno.

And then his hoof was tracing its way down her side. She jerked and gasped as it pressed against her mark, then gasped again as he pushed it between her legs in search of that burning heat which was already filling the room with a musky scent.

Despite her body's clear and open invitation, she tensed, her limbs locking in place around his sides. This was the part she always dreaded, when they felt how wet she was, how shameless she was. His hoof lightly touched her there, between her legs, and the drawn out moan that poured from her throat was equal parts pleasure and fear. If he were a good pony, this was when he would push her away in disgust, order her out of his house and onto the street like the shameless hussy she was.

But he didn't. Instead he returned his mouth to hers for a deep kiss, and his hoof pressed against her lips, parting them ever so slightly. A surge of pleasure shot through her, and when she moaned again it entirely out of lust. The fear, for now, was banished.

Of course he doesn't care. They never care. He always knew you were a slut.

She bit his lip, harder than she intended, drawing a surprised grunt from her lover. He pulled back, his breath hot and ragged. Even in the dim light, she could see in his eyes the feral intensity that was beginning to take over. The cuddling and foreplay wouldn't last much longer, she guessed.

“Would you like to go to the bedroom?” she whispered.

He nodded, and just as quickly was off of her. She rolled off the couch onto the floor, and they walked together down the apartment's lone hallway, bumping and nipping playfully at each other the whole way. Their play grew hotter and heavier, and they almost didn't make it to the bedroom.

His room was small, and the bed small as well, but she judged it would be large enough for their purposes. She gave him a final bump with her shoulder, then darted toward the bed, hopping up to plant her forelegs upon the mattress. She turned to look over her shoulder and flicked her tail to the side, giving him a glimpse of her most private of treasures.

It had the desired effect. He stepped forward, ready to mount her, and she slipped away from him up onto the bed. Her tail flicked gently against his snout along the way.

“Tease,” he accused her with a grin. She smiled back and settled onto the bed, her hooves pawing at the sheets beneath her. They had a surprisingly high thread count, she noted.

He hopped up onto the bed, setting the whole thing creaking. She wondered for a moment if it would support the stress they were about to subject it to, and then the thought was driven from her mind as he mounted her, pushing her down with far more weight than before. Her tail strained to the side, entirely of its own accord, exposing her to the world. He nibbled at her neck again, and she let out a shuddering moan.

Shameless.

“Are you ready?” His breath tickled her ear. The head of his cock pressed up against her entrance, and she felt her legs shaking, like she had just run a dozen miles.

Beg him. Show him what you are.

She didn't beg. She didn't need to. A quick, jerky nod was all it took, and his hips pressed forward. Inch by inch he penetrated her, spreading her wet passage apart to accommodate him. He grunted into her ear and pushed again. Her hooves dug into the covers as she gasped. As always there was the slightest sensation of pain as she stretched open, defeated entirely by the animal pleasure that washed through her pelvis. She moaned and pushed back against his hips until he was as deep into her as a stallion could go.

They lay together for a few minutes, unmoving, conjoined, panting. She shifted her hips and felt his head twitching deep within her. The feelings – of being pinned, penetrated, possessed by this stallion, by her prince – could have lasted forever. It was enough for her.

Not enough for him, though. He tugged at her mane with his teeth and began moving his hips, slowly at first, then ever faster. Each thrust sent shudders through her body, accompanied by tiny, unladylike gasps of pleasure that escaped from her mouth. The fullness, the pleasure built with each stroke. She moaned, louder, and turned her head to bite the sheets.

Slut. Whore.

It was over too soon. That was no strike against him – he lasted admirably long. But eventually his thrusts grew faster and harder, less even, like he was out of control. Each stroke rocked her entire body and set the bed swaying. The pressure within her grew higher and higher, almost reaching the peak. She pushed against him with each thrust, utterly shameless.

He thrust one final time, nearly crushing her hips against the bed with his weight. She felt his shaft pulsing, followed by a warm flood. She strained, almost at the peak, and reached a hoof down between her legs to help press herself over the edge. A light touch was all it took, and her body shook with ecstasy.

They panted together for a few moments, unmoving. He was still buried within her. She turned her head, and he leaned down to kiss her again. They shared the pose, both satiated, until he slipped out of her and lay down by her side.

Rarity never knew what to say at times like this, so she kept her mouth shut. His foreleg reached across her back to pull her closer, and she settled against his chest with a satisfied sigh.

It wasn't bad, really.

Not bad at all.

They both got what they wanted.

Right. He got you, and you get to pretend for a little while. Seems fair.

His breath tickled her mane, and she felt the rise and fall of his chest grow steady with sleep. Stallions – always the same.

He'd make a nice prince. Except, of course, he isn't one. Just some nameless stallion you wanted to fuck.

Bright Mark was a good pony, she decided. Courteous, thoughtful and generous. She could appreciate that last part more than most.

Right. Rarity: ever so generous. Such a wonderful role model you make for foals. Except the part where you're a slut.

She let out a breath and closed her eyes. Sleep, sleep. Any time now, sleep. Tomorrow would be a busy day, making sure the shop would tide over until she returned from Ponyville. It would be so nice to see the girls again. Especially Rainbow Dash.

Whore.

She didn't mind the thoughts that kept playing out in her head. All ponies were plagued with doubts, after all. Some more than others.

Shameless.

So maybe life hadn't turned out the way she expected. Her prince was still out there, and until then, this would do. She realized long ago that self-loathing was a small price to pay for some things. She cuddled up against the stallion holding her in his sleep.

Right, keep telling yourself that.

The price of not being alone.

The Morning After, part 2

They found Fluttershy behind the farm’s iconic red barn, tending to a small patch of sunflowers growing alongside a rabbit hutch that Rainbow Dash didn’t remember from years before. It had the look of new construction – wood beams still sharp and straight, paint red as a summer rose. Faint rustling sounds drifted from its dark interior, and she thought she saw a dozen little eyes peek out the tiny windows at her.

“Oh! Rainbow!” Fluttershy trotted – well, waddled, really – over to them for a nuzzle against each of their cheeks. The bulge in her abdomen hadn’t yet reached whale-like proportions, but she certainly wasn’t the lithe, leggy thing Dash recalled from their childhood. Still graceful, though, and more beautiful than any mare Dash had seen during her stay in Ponyville.

Except for one, perhaps. She shook her head sharply to banish the memory of a purple mane and lilac perfume.

“Morning’, sis,” Applejack said. She gave the sunflowers behind Fluttershy a measuring look. They had started to wilt with the advent of autumn, and their glorious blossoms bowed from the stalks like old ponies unable to raise their heads. “Those look about ready for harvesting.”

Fluttershy gave a small nod. “Tomorrow, I think. Even the immature seeds should be ripe by then.” She turned to set her watering can on a small wagon alongside other gardening tools. “So, Dash, what brings you out here this early? Not that I’m unhappy to see you, of course.”

“Uh, just, you know, visiting.” Dash felt Applejack’s gaze on the back of her head. “And, uh, maybe talking, too.”

Fluttershy’s eyes flicked to the side, back to where Applejack stood. Just as quickly her eyes met Dash’s again, and the gentle smile returned to her face.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “Applejack, I think I left my shears in the barn somewhere. Do you suppose you could find them for me?”

“‘Course,” Applejack drawled. Rainbow turned her head to see a small smile on Applejack’s lips. “Big barn, might take a bit to find ‘em. Heck, Mac might’ve grabbed them for some prunin’ of his own. I’ll have to chase him down, maybe.” Her tail flicked out to brush against Rainbow’s shoulder, and then she trotted away toward the barn and the shadows spilling out its wide door.

Fluttershy waited for a few moments, until Applejack was out of sight and the hollow sound of her hooves on the barn’s wood floor faded away. She turned to face the sunflower patch again, lifted her left wing just a few inches from her body, and gave it a little shake.

Dash took the hint and stepped up beside her. A faint breeze drifted in from the orchards around them, carrying with it the scent of apples and freshly turned earth. It tousled both their manes, and Dash saw Fluttershy take a deep breath and smile.

“You were born in Cloudsdale, weren’t you?” Fluttershy’s question caught Dash by surprise. She turned to see Fluttershy’s muzzle just inches from her own. They were close enough that Dash had to look up to meet the taller mare’s gaze.

“Uh, yeah?” She paused, resisting the urge to back away. “You were, too, right?”

Fluttershy nodded minutely. She raised a hoof to brush a few stray strands of her long mane away from her face – within moments the wind tossed them askew again. She blew a huff of breath at them, then smiled and looked back to the flowers.

“I think where you were born matters,” she said softly. “It shapes who you are and what you become. I’ve been thinking about that a lot, lately.”

“Were you thinking of going back there to, uh, you know?”

“To foal?” Fluttershy smiled. “No. We don’t even know if she’ll be a pegasus, and besides, I can’t imagine bringing a daughter into the world anywhere but here. Ponyville has always been my home, even before I fell off the clouds all those years ago. It was my home before I knew it existed. I just had to find it.”

“Yeah, well…” Dash kicked at the loose soil at their feet. Enough stuck to the wall of her hoof to leave a dirty smear. Nothing like the clouds. “It’s pretty cool, I guess.”

Fluttershy chuckled. It was a melodic sound, a few notes shy of laughter. “Pretty cool, yes. But it’s where I found happiness, Dash. I think that’s the most important thing.”

No, it wasn’t. Happiness was nothing more than the scent of apples in the wind – pleasant, but gone in an instant. She had learned that lesson enough times.

Some of that bitterness must have shown on her face. Fluttershy frowned and leaned closer. “What did you want to talk about, Dash?”

Right, talk. Dash settled down onto her haunches and took a breath. “Rarity.”

“Ah.” Fluttershy looked around, perhaps searching for Applejack, then settled down at Rainbow’s side. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with her, lately.”

Yeah. Time and… Other things. Fragments of last night’s dream pressed at her thoughts, and she shoved them back into the corners of her mind. “It was her idea to come back to Ponyville, you know. She said it would be like old times again. When it was the six of us. Before we… before we left.”

Fluttershy was silent for a while. In the distance, sparrows chirped from the orchard branches, and quiet sounds emerged from the rabbit hutch beside them. The wind tossed her mane around, though she didn’t seem to mind the errant strands.

“We didn’t blame you for leaving,” she said.

Dash snorted. “You should have.”

“Maybe, but we didn’t. You both left to do such wonderful things. Did you know Twilight kept a scrap album filled with pictures from your shows and clippings from Rarity’s catalogues?”

Dash blinked. Twilight had never expressed any interest in fashion, and aside from the basic flight lessons Dash had provided in the days after Twilight sprouted wings, they'd never discussed advanced techniques like the ones used in air shows. “She did?”

“Mhm. She’s not the only one, either. What the two of you did wasn’t magic, like the Elements of Harmony. It was hard work and dedication. You did so much more than us.”

“Don’t… ugh.” Dash grimaced. “Don’t say that, Shy.”

“It’s not a bad thing to want to be a great pony, Dash. You have the Wonder Bolts. Rarity has all of Fillydelphia. I have this.” She wave a hoof at the little garden and the rabbit hutch and the towering barn behind them.

An empty apartment, unused half the year. Half her belongings still in boxes. An endless succession of hotel rooms, so similar they blurred and became a single room in her mind. Dash closed her eyes against the images.

“It’s… it’s not as great as it sounds, Shy. When I had Soarin, it was enough, but…” But what? Her tongue tangled before it could finish the traitorous thought.

Fluttershy was silent for a while. Her hoof drifted down to rest on her gently swollen abdomen – she did not even seem aware of the gesture.

“Have you thought about coming back here, Dash? Staying, I mean.”

Of course. The thought had teased at the back of her mind since the train pulled into the station days ago. Ponyville exerted an almost magnetic pull on her, drawing her in with promises of homes filled with life and friendships that transcended time. The everyday treasures that flowed from the Apple family home could be hers. All she had to do was give up her dreams.

She shook her head. Impossible.

“You can’t go home again. Rarity said that the other day.”

“And you think she’s right?” Fluttershy lowered her head, trying to meet Dash’s downcast gaze.

“Well, she would know, wouldn’t she? She’s got her perfect life in Fillydelphia, just waiting for her to return.”

“Maybe.” Something in Fluttershy’s tone tugged at Dash’s ears, and she glanced over to see Fluttershy’s head turned away. “But you’re not Rarity, are you? What’s keeping you away?”

Dash blinked. “What? Just up and leave the team?”

Fluttershy nodded.

“I… no. I can’t do that. What would the team say? What would Soarin say?”

“Soarin is gone, Dash. He would want you to be happy.”

“He would want—” Dash stopped, realizing she was standing, her wings raised at her sides. Fluttershy’s eyes were wide, and she leaned away almost imperceptibly.

Deep breaths. Slow in, hold. Slow out.

“He would want me to stay on the team,” she finished. Her wings settled back down, and she ran a hoof over her ruffled coat. “And that’s what I’m going to do.”

Fluttershy hesitated only a moment before offering a tiny nod. “Okay. And what about Rarity?”

“Rarity will be fine. Her life is perfect. It was perfect before I came back, and it will be perfect after I leave.”

“No one’s life is perfect, Dash. If we were perfect, there would be no room to grow. We would be like the statues in Celestia’s garden. Unchanging and flawless, and unable to feel a thing.”

“Yeah, well…” Her thoughts drifted back to Rarity and her perfect white coat, her mane with never a hair out of place. The way her graceful legs arched just so, to make a sculptor weep. “That’s what she wants. It’s what she deserves.” She practically spit the last word.

Fluttershy winced. For a moment, Dash saw the frightened filly from years past, hiding beneath her pink mane as though it would shield her from the world. Just as quickly it was gone, replaced by a mature mare with a stern frown on her face.

Dash bit her lip. “Sorry, Shy. She just… I had a rough night.”

The frown deepened. “Did she hurt you?”

“No.” Silence, broken only by the wind. “Okay, maybe. It’s complicated.”

“Did you talk to her?”

Dash snorted. “Yeah. That didn’t help.”

“Maybe you’re not talking about the right things.”

Dash turned her head to the sky. It was a cloudless day, perfect for flying. She stretched her wings and crouched low to the ground.

“There’s not much left for us to talk about, Shy.” She jumped, and the earth became a memory beneath her.

* * *

For the first time in months, Dash flew completely free. The anchors that had weighed down her heart were gone now. It bled where she had torn them away, and ached in her chest, but at last she was unbound. She felt lighter than a feather.

Up here, Ponyville was a smear on the ground. The ponies were no larger than ants crawling through its streets. In the distance, half-concealed by the morning mists, Canterlot spread out from the mountains. To the south, a dark blot in the sky betrayed Cloudsdale’s presence. She could fly to either in less than an hour and leave Ponyville forever.

She banked her wings gently, catching the air with her primaries to swing her around in a large loop that circumscribed the town below her. The air was dense with water, and the trails her wingtips carved through it turned to streamers of mist, extending behind her for hundreds of feet. She spun lazily, creating corkscrew patterns in the sky.

Still putting on a show? No one can see you. She tilted her head toward the ground. None of the ponies far below were watching – none seemed even aware of her.

No matter. She spied her target and stooped toward it, her wings folding against her body in a tight dive. The air screamed past her, and the ground rushed toward her like a runaway train. In less than ten seconds she fell several thousand feet.

Her wings snapped open a bare hundred feet above the ground. Tendons and muscles shrieked in protest, threatening to snap at the sudden and unaccustomed strain. She held them anyway; years with the Bolts had given her an uncanny sense of just how far she could push her body before it broke, and a simple crash stop like this was well within her personal comfort zone. Her pinions stretched out like fans for a last greedy grasp at the air, and her hooves touched the cobblestones with only a whisper of sound.

Around her, ponies started and jerked away from the pegasus who suddenly appeared in their midst. She ignored them and trotted up to the Castle of Friendship's crystal doors. They were normally locked at this time of morning, but at the touch of her hoof something inside them clicked, and they swung open before her. The elements of harmony were always permitted entrance.

The castle was eerily quiet, a reminder that despite its size only one pony actually lived within its halls. Dash’s steps slowed for a moment, and she lost herself in the memory of lounging on cushions on the old library floor, curled up with a Daring Do novel and turning the pages in silence for hours at a time, moving only to stay in the warm pool of sunlight streaming through the windows. The library had been like a second home then, more beloved to her than the palatial-yet-empty cloud house she spent her nights in.

The new castle was... different. She couldn't imagine sleeping on these hard floors, or curling up in a windowsill with a good book. She frowned and shoved the old memories aside.

The scratch of claws on crystal snapped her out of her reverie, and she looked up to see Spike walking down the in from the library room, a stack of books balanced in his arms. Standing upright, he easily dwarfed her and probably would have seen eye-to-eye with either of the princesses. She watched him move to one of the bookcases before clearing her throat.

He turned, the spines on his head up and alert at the sudden sound. They relaxed when he saw who was there, and a grin broke out on his face.

“Hey Dash.” He set the rest of the books down and ambled over to her. “Sorry, didn’t see you there. Looking for Twilight?”

“Yeah.” She flapped her wings and rose to hover a few feet above the floor, where she could meet Spike’s gaze without having to crane her head back. After a moment’s delay, she reached out a hoof, which he bumped with one of his curled claws. “I thought you didn’t live here anymore?”

“Twilight likes me to open the library for her. That way she gets to sleep in.” He smirked and glanced up the stairs leading to the living quarters, then turned to walk toward the kitchen. “You eat yet? I was just about to start breakfast.”

“I’m fine,” Dash said. She floated over to the stairs. “So, she’s not up yet?”

“Nah, probably won’t be for a while, either.” Spike stopped at the threshold, having to duck his head in the process to avoid the lintel. “You sure you don’t want anything? I could make pancakes.”

“I’m fine,” she said again. Why was everypony trying to stuff her, lately? The huge portions ladled out to her ever since arriving in Ponyville suddenly stuck in her mind’s eye, more food than she’d had in a single sitting in months. Since before… she grimaced and turned her head to the side, suddenly eager to be rid of the thought.

“You, uh, you okay, Dash?” Spike had taken a step back toward her, the spines on his crest standing upright again. “It doesn’t have to be pancakes, I can make something—”

“I’m not hungry. Is Twilight up there?”

“Huh? Yeah, but she’s still asleep. Is it—hey!” Spike’s voice faded as she shot up stairs. The door wasn’t locked, and she barged through it without a thought, slamming it behind her.

The curtains were drawn across Twilight’s windows, but enough of the early morning sunlight peeked around their edges to fill the room. It was stuffed with books, nearly as many as in the actual library below, all lining the walls around the large four-poster bed. The blue covers were rumpled, and they stirred as Twilight’s head popped up, a sleepy, confused expression on her face.

Dash crossed the space in less than a second, her hooves landing on the mattress on either side of Twilight’s prone form. Her heart hammered in her chest, and her body shook hard enough to make the bed’s springs creak in sympathy. Every detail in the room – the sharp shadows cast along the walls, the stars-and-moon pattern on Twilight’s covers, the highlights in Twilight’s wide, startled eyes – stood out in sharp relief.

“We need to talk,” Dash said. Her voice barely trembled.

Silence. Twilight stared at her, mouth agape. Rainbow was about to speak again when the covers beside them shifted, and Twilight’s bedmate rose to his hooves.

The stallion – she couldn’t remember his name – was not exceptionally large, but he was an earth pony, and he probably weighed more than Twilight and Dash put together. His ears were plastered back against his skull, and she could practically feel the tension in his muscles. For a long moment the three of them stared at each other, waiting for somepony to make the first move.

It was Twilight. “It’s okay,” she said, and she set a hoof against the stallion’s leg. “Dash and I just need to chat a bit. Why don’t you go, uh, get breakfast started?”

He didn’t move until Rainbow hopped off the bed, and then he only lowered his head to whisper something in Twilight’s ear. Her mouth moved silently, and after a long, fraught pause, he nodded and stepped down onto the floor. His eyes never left Dash as he moved to the door, and it wasn’t until it closed behind him that the tension in the air seemed to vanish. Dash let out a slow breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

A faint lavender glow caught Rainbow’s eyes, and the curtains blocking the morning sun parted with a faint rustle, flooding the room with light. Dash squinted at the window before turning back to Twilight.

The alicorn sat atop the covers, an unreadable expression on her face. Her mane was mussed, squashed flat on one side of her head, wild and spiked on the other. Her eyes, though, were sharp, and they stared at Dash as though she were a wounded animal, to be pitied but not trusted. The silence stretched out again, broken only by Dash’s uneven breath and the rush of blood in her ears.

“Are you alright, Dash?” Twilight shifted her right hoof forward a few inches. It closed the distance between them by an infinitesimal amount.

Breathe in, hold, release. Dash let the air seep slowly out her nose. “Do you love him?” she asked, her eyes darting to the closed door and then back meet Twilight’s stare.

“Do I…” Twilight’s eyes shifted to the door. Her hoof twisted in the covers, and she bit her lip.

“You heard me. Do you love him?”

Twilight’s throat bobbled. “I think I might,” she said after a pause. Her voice was as quiet as the cirrus clouds, so high above the earth. “Dash, did Rarity hurt—”

“How would you feel if he betrayed you? If you trusted him enough to show your scars, and when you weren’t looking he tore them off, just to see if they would bleed?”

Twilight closed her eyes. “Dash…”

“Do you think that would hurt, Twilight?” Rainbow stood and paced across the room, her tail lashing like a tiger’s. The words, full of malice, poured from some unknown font deep within her chest. They demanded to be spoken. “Do you think that would be helpful?”

“No, no.” The tip of Twilight’s tongue stuck out between her lips for a moment, wetting them. “Dash, where is Rarity?”

“I don’t know. Wherever.” Dash waved a hoof at the window and the rest of Ponyville beyond.

“Is she hurt—”

“I don’t care!” Dash shouted. She rounded on Twilight with a snarl, sending her flinching away. “Fuck. Rarity. Fuck her stupid, idiotic plans. And fuck you for helping her!”

Twilight stared at her, eyes wide, mouth hanging open like a fool. The color drained from her face, leaving her lips pale and her coat an ashen mockery of its usual splendor. Her ears hung limp, and the hoof she had raised to reach toward Dash began to tremble.

For a moment, Dash wondered if she had gone too far. Then she remembered the last moments of the dream, the ache in her heart for Soarin’s loss and the corrosive, retching, sickening heat of Rarity’s betrayal. She fanned the flames, letting them burn away her indecision, and she stared at Twilight with an emotion she hadn’t felt in years.

It was something like hate.

“You helped her,” she hissed. “You knew what she was planning, and you didn’t know or just didn’t care how much it might hurt.”

Her words struck Twilight like hammer blows. The unicorn flinched at each one, and her eyes began to water. “I’m sorry, Dash. This is my fault as much as hers. I should have made it clearer to her that it might not work, so when the two of you discussed it, you could make a more informed—”

“Discussed it?” Rainbow barked a harsh, humorless laugh. “Twilight, this is Rarity. When has she ever stopped to ask for permission? I didn’t know about the damn spell until she explained it to me in the dream!”

Twilight closed her eyes and let out a slow breath. A full minute passed before she replied. “Dash, please understand. Whatever happened last night was supposed to help. Everything I’ve read said that—”

“You read?! Twilight, your damn books can’t—”

Twilight kept going, as though Rainbow had not interrupted. “—sharing the experiences that underlay the trauma can be cathartic—”

“They can’t solve every problem! They’re not some magic mirror—”

“—distribute the negative emotions associated with—”

“Don’t try to justify this! You had no right!”

“We wanted to help!” Twilight’s voice cracked. She straightened from her beleaguered crouch and stepped down from the bed. “Dash, you don’t know how much seeing you like this hurts. For six months we’ve watched our friend falling apart. Oh, yes, we have! Don’t shake your head! You think we haven’t noticed that you stopped flying, or visiting, or writing? Do you think anypony could miss the fact that you’re wasting away? When you showed up on that train you looked like a mare who was dying, Dash, and of us all Rarity was the only pony who had a plan. She had a plan and it was helping. It was… it was helping…” Twilight trailed off weakly, her energy spent, and she sagged as it left her, hunching in a miserable ball, her muzzle just inches from the floor.

Only the sounds of their breath broke the silence, Dash’s ragged and hot, Twilight’s in hiccuping sobs.

“Yeah,” Dash whispered. She stared at Twilight’s shivering form. “Yeah, it was.”

Twilight said nothing as Dash left. Down below, at the foot of the stairs, Spike and Twilight’s stallion stared up with wide eyes. Dash didn’t spare them a second glance as she passed them by and left the castle behind.

* * *

Sugarcube Corner was already in full swing when Rainbow Dash arrived. She stepped through the front door and around the line of ponies waiting to make their morning purchases, the danishes and doughnuts that powered Ponyville from sunrise til noon. The ponies nearest to her smiled, and despite her mood she found herself smiling back, the old instincts born from a hundred airshows taking control while her eyes searched for her pink-maned quarry.

A snippet of unmistakable laughter drifted from the kitchen. She made her excuses and stepped around the line, giving Mr. Cake, holding court behind the counter, a quick nod as she passed him by.

“Oh! Hello dearie,” Mrs. Cake nearly ran her over with a tray of scones still steaming from the oven. “Sorry about that. Pinkie! Your friend is here!” She gave Dash a bump with her ample hip, and then she was gone. Dash didn’t even have time to greet her.

“Dashie!” The world suddenly became a mess of pink hair and the smell of cotton candy. A pair of iron legs crushed the breath from her lungs, and she felt herself lifted briefly from the floors. Her hooves scrabbled for purchase in the air, and she squeaked out a strangled sound, halfway between a greeting and a plea for mercy.

Pinkie seemed to take the hint and set her down. “What brings you around so early? Breakfast?” She spun, and in a single motion somehow opened the oven, plucked out a metal tray brimming with oat and cinnamon muffins, and thrust it beneath Dash’s chin. The heat from it nearly singed her whiskers, and she reared away.

“Er, no, I—”

“Oh, getting something for Rarity, perhaps?” She waggled her eyebrows and produced a brown paper bag seemingly from nowhere, promptly stuffing it with half the cinnamon muffins, a hooffull of eclairs, iced doughnuts drizzled with chocolate and caramel, and a ramekin filled with assorted shelled nuts. “She has a bit of a sweet tooth, you know. Give her something tasty with a sugar glaze and she’ll just melt in your hooves.” She finished with a salacious wink that left no room for misinterpretation.

“Uh, no thanks.” Dash pushed the bag back at Pinkie. “I just wanted to—”

“Do some baking?” Pinkie snatched a tall chef’s hat from the air and plopped it atop Dash’s head. “I was just about to start the lunchtime red velvet cupcakes! We make four dozen every day!”

“No, Pinkie, I—”

“Oh, you wanted to play with the twins? Have a sleepover? Visit the Mirror Pool and use it to conquer the world? Start practicing for the Hearth’s Warming—”

Dash stopped Pinkie the only way she knew how, by stuffing her hoof in her mouth. It was like plugging a drain, and the flood of words stopped instantly. They stared at each other in silence for a few moments, and Rainbow slowly pulled her hoof back.

“I just want to talk,” she said.

Pinkie grinned. “Well, why didn’t you say so, silly?” She turned and hopped onto a high stool set against the counter. “Have a seat and chat with your aunt Pinkie.”

Dash let out a quiet sigh. Spending any time at all around Pinkie Pie was a recipe for psychological whiplash, and she did her best to dredge up the embers of the anger she had felt when confronting Twilight. They glowered in her breast, but their heat was smothered by the flush of guilt she felt from the memory of Twilight’s crying, hunched form. That was not a proud moment – necessary, perhaps, but not proud. She gathered her thoughts around her, mulled them over, and joined Pinkie at the counter, using her wings to float up and settle down on the hard linoleum surface.

Where to start, where to start. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it, and closed it again.

Pinkie raised an eyebrow.

“We, ah…” Not the best start. Dash let out a quiet breath and brushed her hoof across the counter, leaving a faint trail in the dusting of flour. “Rarity. I mean, I wanted to talk about Rarity.”

“You two have been spending a lot of time together,” Pinkie said. Her voice was neutral, as though she were commenting on the weather or someone else’s foals.

“Yeah, about that.” Dash cleared her throat. “She’s a good pony, you know? She’s pretty, and smart, and beautiful, and generous, and she smells good, and…” And she was babbling, Dash realized. She took a breath and started over. “So, yeah, we’ve been spending time together. Hanging out.”

“Enjoying yourselves?”

“Yeah.” A pause for thought. “Yeah, I think so.”

“So what’s there to talk about?”

Dash licked her lips. “Well, you know, she’s really smart, but sometimes she’s dumb. You know what I mean?”

A little smile twisted the corner of Pinkie’s mouth. “I think I do. What happened, Dashie?”

“We, ah… She, she did something she shouldn’t have.” Dash stumbled through a recount of the last night with Rarity, pausing at times to force the memories back to the surface. It was slow going, and difficult, and when she finished her voice was hoarse, and she could not lift her eyes from the abstract patterns her nervous hoof had drawn on the flour-covered countertop.

Pinkie was silent for a while. She had not spoken during Dash’s monologue except to mutter an encouraging “Mm” or “Ah” or “Go on,” whenever Dash’s account stalled. When Dash dared to glance up, she saw Pinkie’s hoof rubbing her chin, a distant expression on her face.

“...well?” Dash finally asked.

“Hm?” Pinkie blinked, and then gave her head a light shake. “Sorry. That’s a lot to think about. Have you spoken with anypony about those things?”

“About what Rarity did? Yeah, I just came from Twilight’s, and she… ah, she said she was sorry.”

“That’s good, but it’s not what I meant,” Pinkie said. “Have you spoken with anypony about those dreams?”

Dash looked away. “They’re just dreams, Pinkie. Just...” She let out a long breath. “Just ghosts.”

“Ghosts can’t hurt you,” Pinkie said. Her voice was softer than Dash had ever heard, barely audible above the clamor coming from the main room. “Does that mean dreams can’t hurt you?”

“Twilight said dreams can’t hurt anypony.” Rarity’s assurance stabbed through her mind like an icicle, and for a moment Dash couldn’t breathe. The memories of last night’s dreams were sharp and persistent, as though she had just lived them, not at all like the misty and ephemeral images that normally haunted her sleep. And permeating them all, drifting through them, tainting them, was the wrenching pain in her chest, like a copper wire drawn around her heart, cutting with every beat. Her leg ached at the point of the old break.

Inhale, hold, release. Dash repeated the breathing exercise until her hooves stopped shaking, and she swallowed the lump that had appeared in her throat.

“Okay, well… maybe some dreams can hurt you.”

“Maybe, maybe.” Pinkie leaned forward to nuzzle Dash’s cheek with her nose. “Do you want to take a break?”

Inhale, hold, release. “No,” Dash said. She pushed the memories away, focusing instead on the scent of baking muffins and the warm sunlight streaming through the window. “I’m fine.”

“Mhm. You know, Dashie, not all ponies respond to pain the same way. They aren’t all as strong as you.”

A snort. “I’m not strong.”

“But you are! Even if you’re hurting, you push through it, because other ponies need you. It’s just how you are.” She poked her hoof into Dash’s chest, right where the Element of Loyalty would have rested if she were wearing it.

When Dash didn’t respond, she continued. “Me? I laugh whenever I get an ouchie! I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but laughter is kind of my thing.”

That earned a weak chuckle. “Yeah, Pinkie. I noticed.”

“I must be doing something right, then.” Pinkie gave her a little smile. “Now, what about Rarity?”

The muscles in Dash’s chest tightened at her name. “What about her?”

“She’s silly, sometimes, but she’s still the most generous pony I know. So what does she do when she’s hurting? Not being a drama queen,” Pinkie paused to roll her eyes, “but when she’s really in pain?”

“She, uh…” Dash wracked her memories for such an instance. The hoofball game from the other day, but that didn’t really count. The many embarrassing moments they’d shared together, but there was nothing painful about them. “I… don’t know? She’s generous. How can you be generous with pain? You can’t give it away.”

“That’s right, you can’t.” Pinkie turned away, her gaze drifting to the kitchen door. “And even if you could, it wouldn’t be very generous of you.”

Generosity. It was an odd element for a pony like Rarity. So full of pride and vanity, so judgemental, so quick and sharp with her wit. Shallow. Capricious. Insensitive. Deceitful. If she were any other pony, Dash wouldn’t have hesitated to despise her.

But she was Rarity. Beneath all those flaws was that one great virtue, her limitless generosity. It was enough to redeem her, to make her into not just a good pony, but one of the best ponies and best friends Dash knew. It was as magical as anything Dash had ever experienced.

So how would a generous mare – the most generous mare – deal with pain? Dash frowned at the question, her ears folding back against her mane as she turned the problem over in her head.

She wouldn’t flaunt it, though normally Rarity flaunted every aspect of her character. She couldn’t help it.

She wouldn’t laugh it away. Laughing was undignified, and Rarity was obsessed with her image.

She wouldn’t push through it or ignore it. Rarity wasn’t, if Dash was being honest, a strong pony.

“What would she do?” Dash mumbled. A few inches away, Pinkie raised an eyebrow.

“You already said she’s generous,” Pinkie said.

“Yeah, but…” You couldn’t share pain. Or, maybe you could, but that wouldn’t be very generous. No, the generous thing to do… Dash jerked upright as the answer suddenly popped into her head.

“She would keep it. She would… She would hoard it.” Dash’s mind spun at the thought. “She wouldn’t share it, because that would hurt us. She wouldn’t let us know she’s hurting. She would just keep acting like she is, like everything is perfect.”

“So how would we know?”

“We wouldn’t. We…” Dash let out a long breath, and then jumped down from the counter. “I… Sorry, I have to go.”

“Wait!” Pinkie’s shout stopped her at the threshold, and she turned back to see Pinkie climbing down from the stool. “What about last night?”

“Eh…” Dash looked away for a moment. “I don’t know, Pinks. We’ll… we’ll deal with it. Figure something out.”

Pinkie smiled. “Sounds like a plan!” She snagged the bag of sweets from the counter in her teeth, and flung it in Dash’s direction. “Tell her and Sweetie I said ‘hi’!”

Such friends. Dash snagged the bag from the air. It was heavier than it looked, and the scents drifting from the opening heavenly. She tucked it against her chest and turned back to the open door. “I will. Thanks, Pinkie. A lot.”

“Oh Dashie, they’re just doughnuts! Two bits a dozen on weekdays!”

“No…” Dash chuckled and blinked away the tears that threatened her visions. “Thanks for everything.”

And then she was out the door and into the Ponyville morning.

* * *

Twilight was hunched over the circular table in the center of the library when Dash returned. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and the fur around them matted. When she saw Dash enter, she jerked upright and wiped at her face with her forelegs.

“Dash! I, uh, that is—”

“Don’t worry about it. We all make mistakes.” Dash set the bag of doughnuts on the table and pulled one out. Splitting it in half, she took a bite, and pushed the other piece in Twilight’s direction.

“Now, that spell you cast, the dream-sharing one,” she continued. “Could you do it again?”