Notes Between a Married Coupleby AFanaticRabbitChaptersChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 1Twilight didn’t care about the sunlight streaming in through the windows to her stately bedroom, bathing the bed and thus her in warm yellow and orange. She didn’t care much for the birdsong outside, or the distant orders and chatter of guards or staff. None of that was out of the ordinary. She had years to adjust and get used to sleeping in the Canterlot palace again. She had a routine: wake up, snuggle, stagger to the private dining room, eat, then deal with whatever bureaucratic or monarchic duties she had that day. She didn’t care about any of those plans because she was stuck on step two of that routine. Where normally there’d be a weight for her to lean into and press her snout, there was just an empty space and a divot in the bed. Somewhere between the occupant leaving and then, Twilight stole the bedsheets and tightly wrapped herself up. She stared at the empty space, one hoof extended out to it, wondering why it was empty right then. There were plenty of logical possibilities after all, but as time went on most of them faded, leaving Twilight nothing more than a confused feeling and a few loose, indigo hairs. With great effort, Twilight unravelled herself and rose from her bed. Normally she’d take a few moments to get her mane and feathers in order, even if she were about to take a shower, but in that moment she didn’t care. She had to investigate. The first place to check seemed the most obvious to Twilight. It was also the closest, though as she opened the door to the bathroom and peeked inside, the other clues of its emptiness dawned upon her. It was empty, devoid of noise save for a slight echo of her breathing. She thinly smiled, and left her bedroom. The halls between the various wings and sections of the palace let the sun in, just like her balcony window, though they distorted the light into myriad hues through their stained glass. Closed as they were, they let no sound in from outside, but muffled hoofsteps and voices echoed down the hallway. The only other signs of life were the two guards at the start of the hall, and the servant ready to make Twilight’s bed, change the towels, mop up any loose water. He’d have little work to do today. Down a level and deeper into the palace, Twilight entered her private dining room. She’d eaten there many times already, and what was once special in her foalhood was now just another room. There were other ponies, a few guards waiting for trouble, a few more servants preparing plates and small, morning meals. None of them were the pony Twilight was searching for. She crossed the room to the small adjacent kitchen, meant to serve that dining room alone. It was likewise empty. The smile turned to a frown, and Twilight disappeared back into the corridors. The palace was huge, with any number of hiding places, but there were only a few Twilight ought to check. She peered into her study, but was met with dust and books, nothing more. She burst into the study, the door bumping a nearby table and sending a bolt of cloth unrolling on the floor. She shunted the door to the throne room open, startling one of the guards at the far end. They both blinked at her, but she disappeared before their opened mouths could speak. She finally settled in the council room, squeezing herself into the chair beside her own. Every other seat was empty, and a layer of dust coated the table in the middle. A deep frown and a knotted brow distorted Twilight’s face as she stared at the map carved into the middle of the table. The edge of the map held inset gems, one of them matching her own. She was focused on the triple diamonds in front of her. Twilight jolted her head upright following a knock on the door. There stood one of the newest recruits, a young gryphon with bright blue feathers. “Sorry to disturb you, teach—er, your highness,” he said, “I just—You were running around all frantic like, and I figured—“ “Get the guard to conduct a search,” said Twilight. There was a pause before he raised a claw, then seemingly thought better of whatever he was about to say. He instead looked pointedly at the same spot Twilight was, then nodded. “Right away your highness. Is this an emergency?” With a shake of her head, Twilight said, “No.” Another nod, and the guard disappeared, leaving Twilight to her thoughts. And when Twilight was left to her thoughts, she paced. The council room was too small. The throne room was too public. The corridors had plenty of space but they weren’t the right balance of repetitive and detailed. Thus Twilight’s hooves brought her back to her bedroom. Spacious, private, familiar. Hers, and Rarity’s. The second she stepped in, her mind clicked into analysing the situation, like she’d not only walked through a door to another room but another mindset. She started walking a semi-circle around her bed, though as she came to her third cycle, she stopped. There was something atop one of the wardrobes. There were a lot of somethings, various knickknacks, artefacts, gifts and decorations. The white envelope pinned under a music box was most definitely new. She slid it out, turning it over a few times in the air before her. It had no name or address, and from the watermark it was her own stationary. She opened it. She took out the letter. She read. A mountain range of confusion wrote itself across her brow, then she grinned. She whirled around to the door, where the guard from before stood. “Your highness, we’ve checked all over the—“ “Call off the search.” She tucked the letter under a wing. “Everything is fine.” Dear Twilight, First of all, I’d like to say I’m sorry, though be happy this isn’t that sort of letter. I know just up and vanishing on you like that isn’t exactly the nicest thing to do to you, especially after all we’ve been through. But I needed something more than a conversation. I needed something exciting, something that would stir you into action. I needed an adventure, and without some existential threat that you and I can uniquely face, I had to make it my own. I miss those days, you know. The days when you were in Ponyville, and we had the elements. I might not have shown it properly at the time but I took pride and dignity in being one of the few ponies chosen to protect Equestria and the world. And it was exciting. We faced down beastly terrors and solved all manner of problems, from the mundane among our friends to those of utmost importance not just to our nation but to the world at large. Now I often just feel old. Between your former students, my sister and her friends, and other little groups that have cropped up, I feel like we’ve been made useless. Oh dear, I do hope you haven’t asked the guard to look for me. I probably should have said not to call them at the start. Anyway, I figured if an adventure won’t come and find us, then I suppose we would simply have to find an adventure of our own. I also know you, and that you won’t simply abandon your post because I asked. I’d have to force you. I’ve got half a night’s head start on you at least. All I’m going to tell you is that I’ve headed west, and from there you’ll simply have to guess! Love, your faithful, Rarity. Chapter 2She strode in, confident and grand, and she turned heads. They saw a mare at the height of her life, dressed in a multi-layered dress of blue, varying from the bright, shining hues of a diamond under a lamp to the deep, vanishing inkiness of the night. They saw a mare giddy to be among the socialites, among the well-to-do and anybodies of not only Equestria but so many of its neighbours. They saw her mask, a half-faced blindfold of the same near-black fabric, speckled with tiny white beads like stares. None of them saw Rarity, Princess Consort, currently presumed missing but very much alive. A grand band flanked one side of the high ceilinged room, filling the air with slow cheer to match the decadent pleasure of food and drink. It was the same food and drink Rarity adored as she wandered around, fluttering her eyes at dames and gents alike and fitting right into their circles like she was one of them. Which, admittedly, she was, but they didn’t know why at those moments. As the night whiled away she found herself chatting up magnates and merchants, learning about the odd behaviour of the Princess of Equestria. She had declared a holiday then subsequently vanished, leaving her council and the parliament in charge. An official decree proven to be penned in her own horn writing explained very little beyond the necessities of the situation. It made Rarity giggle. Eventually she found herself beside some more familiar faces, those of a few Canterlot residents she had spent more than a few dinners with. Most were boring ministers and civil servants, and as much as she wanted to avoid being caught by them, she had to move over and join in for the same reason. A stallion in a sharp suit told an awful joke. He had well combed hair and an equally well combed moustache, and with a unicorn mare Rarity’s age—thus an excellent vintage if she said so herself—at his side. He had aged fairly well since they had first met, Rarity admitted. The crowd around him laughed at his joke, then so did Rarity after a delayed few seconds. It took him a few moments, but he caught Rarity’s gaze, and raised an eyebrow. Just as he drew a breath to speak, Rarity was walking past him, briefly tapping a hoof to his mouth and assuring his silence. She grinned, he stared, and then she was gone. Even later on, the band altered their pace and tune, gradually turning to something more rhythmic, upbeat. Little by little the conversationalists trickled toward the edges of the room, leaving the middle to the couples locked hoof-in-hoof. Rarity found herself at the periphery, teetering on the edge of stepping on and joining the other masked dancers, but the eyes at the edges kept her from diving in. She’d be spotted on her own, and with that many eyes she was sure she’d be spotted and found out. It seemed somepony else decided for her. Rarity stumbled, shunted from the side and then dragged by the leg onto the floor. She regained her footing as much as she could on three legs, as the fourth was held up by the rude pony that pushed her out. She almost stumbled again when actually looking at her unexpected dance partner. The world around her blurred out as she spun, putting the other pony into focus. It was hard to make out many details. They wore a gold headband, adorned with a spiralling horn while a deep lavender mask covered half their face. They wore a robe or dress in a deep, cosmic purple, and like Rarity’s mask it was decorated with tiny gems. All Rarity could actually make out of the pony was a smug smirk. The dancer swapped their legs, reaching out with the other front hoof, and at the same time came to a sudden stop and spun around Rarity the other way. Rarity followed suit without hesitation. Grinning, Rarity opened her mouth to speak, but then thought better of it. Various words wanted to leap off her tongue but she held them back. Instead she fell into the moment, letting herself be spun and corralled across the dance floor, part of the greater performance of the night. It was as she stared into her partner’s eyes that she noticed something out of place. It was hard to see their colour, shaded behind the mask as they were, but as they whirled under one of the chandeliers she caught what was up. They were green. Her smile waned, but still stuck to her face if at least to be polite. “Twilight?” she asked, and the other pony let her go. She stumbled into the middle of the room, losing the rhythm of the night despite the band’s and dancer’s continued efforts. It was there she noticed just how many of the dancers were dressed the same, with the same robes and dresses, the same masks. They closed in on her in unison, crowding around her. With bumping flanks and hooves stepping on hooves, she was forced to follow their flow. Their smiles and glinting eyes filled her vision, and the whirlwind of coloured manes and tails blurred the line where one pony ended and another began. Just as Rarity reached the end of her tether, ready to shout and throw up a hoof in surrender, the dancing mass dispersed. The heat of bodies disappeared, replaced with the cool air of the night, and the dimmed light of a garden at night. Rarity breathed heavily, her shoulders rising and falling, while her heart thudded in her ears. The manic moment still sat fresh with her, but the cold shock of the outside air brought her down. She glanced over her shoulder to the party, and the last of the troupe that accosted her vanished into the crowd. She turned to the party, a hoof held out to carry her forward, but she hesitated again. Muttering something impolite to herself, Rarity instead took one of the benches outside, hidden in the shade of the doorway. She took off her mask, slipping it from over her ears, which is when she saw it fall to the floor. A letter, in familiar paper, with familiar penmareship. As if the energy of the dance gripped her a second time she took it up and tore it open, then read by hornlight. A minute later the letter was stamped on as Rarity darted back to the party. She shoved her way through the crowd with a smile again painted across her face. Dear Rarity, Really. This is where you started. At a party. Yes I am judging you. I admit I was definitely surprised at this idea. You’re not as plan oriented as me but you’re not exactly the impulsive type either. At least, not the big dumb idea kind of impulsive. But I also understood what you’re feeling. Even before I took over for Celestia and Luna, I kind of felt like I was being made redundant. I was okay with that at first! It meant that I could focus on other things important to me, like my friends, or reading, or the school. It even gave me more time for you, and I’m pretty sure we both agree that is definitely a good thing. But then as time went on I found I was falling into a routine again. I might be older, wiser, and far better suited for the life I lead than anypony else, but I’ve definitely started to feel like I’m just living the life I used to live before everything. Before Ponyville, before the elements, before you. Just going day to day doing math and reading books. I hope you don’t mind my little surprise. I know, it’s a tease. I promise you I was one of the dancers. Love, yours truly, Twilight. Chapter 3Dozens of ponies stood outside of the great, domed capped building, despite the rushing hoof traffic of the chilly morning. Yellow tape and uniformed ponies kept them out, obscuring but not entirely hiding what was inside. Paintings were set aside against one wall, sheets were laid out over the floor, and a large mural of a certain princess covered the far wall. Some of the police officers wandered around, careful not to step on the sheets or any of the laid out art. One wandered around, photographing the scene from various angles, while putting particular focus on a single glass case. “I’m sorry you have to see things in this state, Princess,” said a pony in a plaid shirt, walking from one of the corridors. “It happened last night, and we’re taking stock of what is missing. It seems to just be the coronet but we’d like to be sure.” Twilight, walking beside him, nodded. “It’s not your fault, I’m sure of that.” She watched the ponies work, unicorns casting spells to find residues and marks, earth ponies and pegasi moving equipment and evidence markers into place for the photographer. “I suppose, but I can’t help but feel responsible. It was all in my care, after all.” Their hoofsteps echoed through the room as they walked, then muffled as they stepped onto the sheets. The fabric shuffled with them, bunching up behind the pair. While it revealed the dark, marbled tiling beneath, here and there were straight streaks of white paint. Twilight made a mental note, but kept her attention on the curator. “Any idea why they took the coronet specifically?” she asked. He snorted. “I’m not sure I’m anywhere near qualified to guess, but if I absolutely have to I’d pin it on somecreature not from Equestria. Everypony who would buy it knows what it is and wouldn’t dare touch it.” They approached the glass case, then stopped. Inside was a cut circle of glass, matching the size and shape of the hole in the side closest to Twilight. “What strikes me as weird,” continued the curator, “was that whoever did it left the other jewellery and smaller art alone. There’s plenty here you could fit into a pocket or saddlebag and no one would think twice about it. A big, silver headband is a little harder to hide.” There was a commotion from the door, the crowd getting louder, and Twilight turned toward it. Even more shouts echoed in the room, both from ponies calling out Twilight’s name, and officers yelling at them to step back from the crime scene. It had distracted the other ponies working inside too, including the photographer who set his camera aside. “I’m sorry,” said Twilight with a little laugh. “I think I’m stepping on your hooves here.” “It’s not your fault, I don’t think. I got word that some of them think it’s some sort of publicity stunt you and the council are putting on.” Twilight tilted her head. “Why would that be?” With a laugh, the curator gestured to the mural. “That,” he said. “It wasn’t there when I closed last night.” Twilight looked over at the mural, taking in its details. It was oddly lifelike, despite its sheer, immense scale. The more she looked the more the details stood out, like painted strands of fur, the odd hair out of place in her mane, and the shine in her eyes. Twilight had the grace to look embarrassed, then laughed again as she stepped behind the curator and the photographer. With a subtle kick and a curled wing, the camera found its way tucked against her side. “I’ll get out of your way. I know how folks can be when they get an idea in their head and me hanging around here doesn’t seem to be helping.” “Thank you, Princess. Both for that and taking this in good stride. I know we’ll find the coronet before long.” The curator nodded to her, then with a sigh marched to the door to help yell at the crowd. Later that night, when the door was locked shut, Twilight broke into the gallery. It wasn’t really breaking in. Officially the building belonged to the local municipal government, and by extension it belonged to parliament, and to her. It was a few steps removed, but she had the authority to come and go as she pleased. Never mind the fact she cast a spell to allow her to simply slip through one of the windows around the base of the dome. And that she had made sure to find a way to shut off the alarms. And made sure none of the guards posted outside saw her. She hovered in place as she let her eyes adjust to the lack of moonlight, barely making out more than the shape of the room. She didn’t want to be spotted just yet, so she held back on casting her hornlight spell. She’d taken note of the details earlier on. Case in the middle, art to one side, and sheets all across the floor behind the case. Twilight let herself fall, beating her wings to slow her descent and settle calmly onto the sheets. She stepped back, bumping up against the wall. Setting the camera down, she gave a flick of her horn and a quick sparkle of magic to throw the sheets back and bunch them up in the centre of the room. The paint was very much still there. Long, white streaks of it, criss-crossed in skinny, perpendicular lines and a few curves. At first, it seemed like a random mess, as though the culprit just wanted to splash pant everywhere on the floor. To Twilight, however, that just didn’t seem right. The mural was so incredibly detailed, after all, yet not a drop of purple or pink had found its way streaked over the floor like that. Yet as she paced around the streaks, it very much seemed like a random mess. There wasn’t much of a pattern to it, other than the fact most of the lines seemed to be straight. As she passed by the glass case, however, everything about the lines came into focus. The lines were skinnier at the far end, close together, while where she stood they were broad and thick, more spaced out. It was as if they were closing into some vanishing point opposite her. She didn’t remember seeing anything from that side of the room a few minutes ago, but maybe from another perspective… Twilight looked up at the far wall, meeting the gaze of the unlit mural. She took off, casting a small light spell as she flew, then scrambled across the wall until she found the enlarged eyes. She considered for a moment if she should be in front of one eye or the other, then decided to split the difference and hover between them. She turned up the luminosity of her spell, then faced the splashes across the floor. What she saw was text. It was large, not enough to carry a particular long message, but it was enough. It was complete. Twilight dipped down to grab the camera, then took a snapshot of the scene from that unique vantage point. With a little extra boost of light from both her horn and the camera’s flash, she figured the polaroid that printed out should hold up. Hello the love of my life. This will be short. I only have so much paint and so much space. It’s a little rude to call your wife predictable. I’ll show you predictable. So I stole the coronet you made for me! Take that. Yours, you-know-who. Chapter 4There weren’t a lot of trains that left Equestria. Most of them ran to its borders at most. There was an exception to the south, however. A long line that ran past Appleloosa, into the badlands and beyond. It was a route maintained by ponies the entire length, but at some point along the journey Rarity wouldn’t be hearing much Equestrian. While the bar car was lit, it was dark enough that it gave Rarity some privacy for her thoughts. The silence helped, too, save for the kachunk-kachunk of the wheels and rails. She left most of her belongings in the cabin, save for a single bag she stuffed beneath the table she sat at, nursing some dark brown drink that came from Griffonstone. Between looking out the window and hiding beneath a wide, floppy hat, she was certain she wouldn’t be noticed and bothered. There wasn’t much to see outside. It was a poor time of the month for the moon’s reflected sunlight to bathe the world in its cool blue hues. All Rarity could make out were the trees and posts the train passed and lit with the lights from the cars, plus the distant lights of some village or town. It made her a little homesick. That settlement could have been Ponyville for all she knew, save for the fact she was on a line that went nowhere near her hometown. It still nevertheless felt the same. She’d seen it from a similar vantage point before, like staring into a valley of static fireflies, dimming out one by one as they went to sleep. Feeling a presence beside her, Rarity turned her head and started to say, “I don’t need anything thank you.” She got to the second half of anything then shut her mouth as she looked at a stallion sitting opposite her. “I—I’m not interested,” she said instead, switching from polite indifference to stammering. He winced, but kept his grin. His lilac coat wrinkled around deep, purple eyes, while much of the rest of him was hidden beneath a long coat. “Oof, not even a hello. Somepony’s got to work on her manners.” “Sorry,” said Rarity. “That was a bit rude, I just…” She hummed. “I meant to say I want to be alone, and I, well—“ “You assumed I was going to get my flirt on?” he asked, his face smoothing out. He laughed. “It’s not uncommon on train rides like these, I know. But, trust me, you’re safe from any lecherous intent. I’m, ah, not interested in mares like that.” Rarity blinked, then her shoulders dropped. “Oh, well, good. The feeling is mutual.” “Ooh, that one was intentional.” Rarity smirked. “It was.” He laughed again, and though his voice was deep it was oddly high and pleasant. Rarity kept eye contact for a few moments before turning back to the window, her hat mostly obscuring him from her vision. She sipped her drink, then set the glass back down. “What did you want?” she asked. He shrugged and leaned back in his seat. “Company, conversation. I can’t sleep, and neither can you. Figured you’d like a little of the same.” “I’m not sure I’ll be a great conversationalist right now,” admitted Rarity. He nodded, then looked out of the window. The distant lights were moving steadily across the window, growing dimmer and smaller as they travelled. “Missing home?” he asked. “A little.” “Why are you out here?” She sighed, the smiled. “Adventure.” He laughed again, rocking in his chair. “It’s as good a reason as any.” She hummed, then took another swig of her drink. They sat in silence for the next few minutes. “Do you regret coming out here?” Rarity turned to face the stallion again. “Not at all,” she answered. He nodded, maintaining his gaze with her for a few more moments. She felt like she was being studied by him, and after a minute she broke the staring contest and looked back outside. The village was gone. She was further away from home than she was before. The chair opposite her scraped on wood, and the stallion sighed. “You were right, not a great talker. Here I was hoping to make your night a little more exciting.” He walked away, then opened a door to the next car, letting the wind and noise from outside carry in. “Goodnight, Rarity.” The door shut, and her head shot up. Her heart thumped away in her chest as she rushed up to the door the stallion had walked through, then looked through its window to the next car along. She didn’t see him, just empty seats of a cheaper ticket car. With a huff she turned away from the door and the thought. She couldn’t let ponies figuring out who she was get to her like that. She could only hide from the public eye for so long, after all. She had connections, she was in bed with a Princess. She was absolutely recognizable. It was a wonder she hadn’t been all over the tabloids already, truth be told. She huffed to herself, holding her head high, and walked back to the table. Her bag was gone from beneath it. Instead there was a folded envelope beneath her nearly empty glass, a little damp from condensation. With a tightness in her chest, she snatched up the envelope and tore the letter out from inside. She unfolded it, holding the corners taut at the corners, and read. Her anger didn’t disappear. It intensified, but it had an added, determined edge to it that cut through her face in a grin. She tore it up, sprinkled it over the table, then darted the direction the stallion departed. Dear Rarity, You did a really excellent job with the gallery. I’ve thought a lot about how you did it all, but that message was really impressive. I guess my math and cryptography talks managed to sink in at some point. Of course I have to take the coronet back. I figured getting you to chase me instead would be a fun change of pace. Catch me if you can! Love, Twilight.
Chapter 1Twilight didn’t care about the sunlight streaming in through the windows to her stately bedroom, bathing the bed and thus her in warm yellow and orange. She didn’t care much for the birdsong outside, or the distant orders and chatter of guards or staff. None of that was out of the ordinary. She had years to adjust and get used to sleeping in the Canterlot palace again. She had a routine: wake up, snuggle, stagger to the private dining room, eat, then deal with whatever bureaucratic or monarchic duties she had that day. She didn’t care about any of those plans because she was stuck on step two of that routine. Where normally there’d be a weight for her to lean into and press her snout, there was just an empty space and a divot in the bed. Somewhere between the occupant leaving and then, Twilight stole the bedsheets and tightly wrapped herself up. She stared at the empty space, one hoof extended out to it, wondering why it was empty right then. There were plenty of logical possibilities after all, but as time went on most of them faded, leaving Twilight nothing more than a confused feeling and a few loose, indigo hairs. With great effort, Twilight unravelled herself and rose from her bed. Normally she’d take a few moments to get her mane and feathers in order, even if she were about to take a shower, but in that moment she didn’t care. She had to investigate. The first place to check seemed the most obvious to Twilight. It was also the closest, though as she opened the door to the bathroom and peeked inside, the other clues of its emptiness dawned upon her. It was empty, devoid of noise save for a slight echo of her breathing. She thinly smiled, and left her bedroom. The halls between the various wings and sections of the palace let the sun in, just like her balcony window, though they distorted the light into myriad hues through their stained glass. Closed as they were, they let no sound in from outside, but muffled hoofsteps and voices echoed down the hallway. The only other signs of life were the two guards at the start of the hall, and the servant ready to make Twilight’s bed, change the towels, mop up any loose water. He’d have little work to do today. Down a level and deeper into the palace, Twilight entered her private dining room. She’d eaten there many times already, and what was once special in her foalhood was now just another room. There were other ponies, a few guards waiting for trouble, a few more servants preparing plates and small, morning meals. None of them were the pony Twilight was searching for. She crossed the room to the small adjacent kitchen, meant to serve that dining room alone. It was likewise empty. The smile turned to a frown, and Twilight disappeared back into the corridors. The palace was huge, with any number of hiding places, but there were only a few Twilight ought to check. She peered into her study, but was met with dust and books, nothing more. She burst into the study, the door bumping a nearby table and sending a bolt of cloth unrolling on the floor. She shunted the door to the throne room open, startling one of the guards at the far end. They both blinked at her, but she disappeared before their opened mouths could speak. She finally settled in the council room, squeezing herself into the chair beside her own. Every other seat was empty, and a layer of dust coated the table in the middle. A deep frown and a knotted brow distorted Twilight’s face as she stared at the map carved into the middle of the table. The edge of the map held inset gems, one of them matching her own. She was focused on the triple diamonds in front of her. Twilight jolted her head upright following a knock on the door. There stood one of the newest recruits, a young gryphon with bright blue feathers. “Sorry to disturb you, teach—er, your highness,” he said, “I just—You were running around all frantic like, and I figured—“ “Get the guard to conduct a search,” said Twilight. There was a pause before he raised a claw, then seemingly thought better of whatever he was about to say. He instead looked pointedly at the same spot Twilight was, then nodded. “Right away your highness. Is this an emergency?” With a shake of her head, Twilight said, “No.” Another nod, and the guard disappeared, leaving Twilight to her thoughts. And when Twilight was left to her thoughts, she paced. The council room was too small. The throne room was too public. The corridors had plenty of space but they weren’t the right balance of repetitive and detailed. Thus Twilight’s hooves brought her back to her bedroom. Spacious, private, familiar. Hers, and Rarity’s. The second she stepped in, her mind clicked into analysing the situation, like she’d not only walked through a door to another room but another mindset. She started walking a semi-circle around her bed, though as she came to her third cycle, she stopped. There was something atop one of the wardrobes. There were a lot of somethings, various knickknacks, artefacts, gifts and decorations. The white envelope pinned under a music box was most definitely new. She slid it out, turning it over a few times in the air before her. It had no name or address, and from the watermark it was her own stationary. She opened it. She took out the letter. She read. A mountain range of confusion wrote itself across her brow, then she grinned. She whirled around to the door, where the guard from before stood. “Your highness, we’ve checked all over the—“ “Call off the search.” She tucked the letter under a wing. “Everything is fine.” Dear Twilight, First of all, I’d like to say I’m sorry, though be happy this isn’t that sort of letter. I know just up and vanishing on you like that isn’t exactly the nicest thing to do to you, especially after all we’ve been through. But I needed something more than a conversation. I needed something exciting, something that would stir you into action. I needed an adventure, and without some existential threat that you and I can uniquely face, I had to make it my own. I miss those days, you know. The days when you were in Ponyville, and we had the elements. I might not have shown it properly at the time but I took pride and dignity in being one of the few ponies chosen to protect Equestria and the world. And it was exciting. We faced down beastly terrors and solved all manner of problems, from the mundane among our friends to those of utmost importance not just to our nation but to the world at large. Now I often just feel old. Between your former students, my sister and her friends, and other little groups that have cropped up, I feel like we’ve been made useless. Oh dear, I do hope you haven’t asked the guard to look for me. I probably should have said not to call them at the start. Anyway, I figured if an adventure won’t come and find us, then I suppose we would simply have to find an adventure of our own. I also know you, and that you won’t simply abandon your post because I asked. I’d have to force you. I’ve got half a night’s head start on you at least. All I’m going to tell you is that I’ve headed west, and from there you’ll simply have to guess! Love, your faithful, Rarity.
Chapter 2She strode in, confident and grand, and she turned heads. They saw a mare at the height of her life, dressed in a multi-layered dress of blue, varying from the bright, shining hues of a diamond under a lamp to the deep, vanishing inkiness of the night. They saw a mare giddy to be among the socialites, among the well-to-do and anybodies of not only Equestria but so many of its neighbours. They saw her mask, a half-faced blindfold of the same near-black fabric, speckled with tiny white beads like stares. None of them saw Rarity, Princess Consort, currently presumed missing but very much alive. A grand band flanked one side of the high ceilinged room, filling the air with slow cheer to match the decadent pleasure of food and drink. It was the same food and drink Rarity adored as she wandered around, fluttering her eyes at dames and gents alike and fitting right into their circles like she was one of them. Which, admittedly, she was, but they didn’t know why at those moments. As the night whiled away she found herself chatting up magnates and merchants, learning about the odd behaviour of the Princess of Equestria. She had declared a holiday then subsequently vanished, leaving her council and the parliament in charge. An official decree proven to be penned in her own horn writing explained very little beyond the necessities of the situation. It made Rarity giggle. Eventually she found herself beside some more familiar faces, those of a few Canterlot residents she had spent more than a few dinners with. Most were boring ministers and civil servants, and as much as she wanted to avoid being caught by them, she had to move over and join in for the same reason. A stallion in a sharp suit told an awful joke. He had well combed hair and an equally well combed moustache, and with a unicorn mare Rarity’s age—thus an excellent vintage if she said so herself—at his side. He had aged fairly well since they had first met, Rarity admitted. The crowd around him laughed at his joke, then so did Rarity after a delayed few seconds. It took him a few moments, but he caught Rarity’s gaze, and raised an eyebrow. Just as he drew a breath to speak, Rarity was walking past him, briefly tapping a hoof to his mouth and assuring his silence. She grinned, he stared, and then she was gone. Even later on, the band altered their pace and tune, gradually turning to something more rhythmic, upbeat. Little by little the conversationalists trickled toward the edges of the room, leaving the middle to the couples locked hoof-in-hoof. Rarity found herself at the periphery, teetering on the edge of stepping on and joining the other masked dancers, but the eyes at the edges kept her from diving in. She’d be spotted on her own, and with that many eyes she was sure she’d be spotted and found out. It seemed somepony else decided for her. Rarity stumbled, shunted from the side and then dragged by the leg onto the floor. She regained her footing as much as she could on three legs, as the fourth was held up by the rude pony that pushed her out. She almost stumbled again when actually looking at her unexpected dance partner. The world around her blurred out as she spun, putting the other pony into focus. It was hard to make out many details. They wore a gold headband, adorned with a spiralling horn while a deep lavender mask covered half their face. They wore a robe or dress in a deep, cosmic purple, and like Rarity’s mask it was decorated with tiny gems. All Rarity could actually make out of the pony was a smug smirk. The dancer swapped their legs, reaching out with the other front hoof, and at the same time came to a sudden stop and spun around Rarity the other way. Rarity followed suit without hesitation. Grinning, Rarity opened her mouth to speak, but then thought better of it. Various words wanted to leap off her tongue but she held them back. Instead she fell into the moment, letting herself be spun and corralled across the dance floor, part of the greater performance of the night. It was as she stared into her partner’s eyes that she noticed something out of place. It was hard to see their colour, shaded behind the mask as they were, but as they whirled under one of the chandeliers she caught what was up. They were green. Her smile waned, but still stuck to her face if at least to be polite. “Twilight?” she asked, and the other pony let her go. She stumbled into the middle of the room, losing the rhythm of the night despite the band’s and dancer’s continued efforts. It was there she noticed just how many of the dancers were dressed the same, with the same robes and dresses, the same masks. They closed in on her in unison, crowding around her. With bumping flanks and hooves stepping on hooves, she was forced to follow their flow. Their smiles and glinting eyes filled her vision, and the whirlwind of coloured manes and tails blurred the line where one pony ended and another began. Just as Rarity reached the end of her tether, ready to shout and throw up a hoof in surrender, the dancing mass dispersed. The heat of bodies disappeared, replaced with the cool air of the night, and the dimmed light of a garden at night. Rarity breathed heavily, her shoulders rising and falling, while her heart thudded in her ears. The manic moment still sat fresh with her, but the cold shock of the outside air brought her down. She glanced over her shoulder to the party, and the last of the troupe that accosted her vanished into the crowd. She turned to the party, a hoof held out to carry her forward, but she hesitated again. Muttering something impolite to herself, Rarity instead took one of the benches outside, hidden in the shade of the doorway. She took off her mask, slipping it from over her ears, which is when she saw it fall to the floor. A letter, in familiar paper, with familiar penmareship. As if the energy of the dance gripped her a second time she took it up and tore it open, then read by hornlight. A minute later the letter was stamped on as Rarity darted back to the party. She shoved her way through the crowd with a smile again painted across her face. Dear Rarity, Really. This is where you started. At a party. Yes I am judging you. I admit I was definitely surprised at this idea. You’re not as plan oriented as me but you’re not exactly the impulsive type either. At least, not the big dumb idea kind of impulsive. But I also understood what you’re feeling. Even before I took over for Celestia and Luna, I kind of felt like I was being made redundant. I was okay with that at first! It meant that I could focus on other things important to me, like my friends, or reading, or the school. It even gave me more time for you, and I’m pretty sure we both agree that is definitely a good thing. But then as time went on I found I was falling into a routine again. I might be older, wiser, and far better suited for the life I lead than anypony else, but I’ve definitely started to feel like I’m just living the life I used to live before everything. Before Ponyville, before the elements, before you. Just going day to day doing math and reading books. I hope you don’t mind my little surprise. I know, it’s a tease. I promise you I was one of the dancers. Love, yours truly, Twilight.
Chapter 3Dozens of ponies stood outside of the great, domed capped building, despite the rushing hoof traffic of the chilly morning. Yellow tape and uniformed ponies kept them out, obscuring but not entirely hiding what was inside. Paintings were set aside against one wall, sheets were laid out over the floor, and a large mural of a certain princess covered the far wall. Some of the police officers wandered around, careful not to step on the sheets or any of the laid out art. One wandered around, photographing the scene from various angles, while putting particular focus on a single glass case. “I’m sorry you have to see things in this state, Princess,” said a pony in a plaid shirt, walking from one of the corridors. “It happened last night, and we’re taking stock of what is missing. It seems to just be the coronet but we’d like to be sure.” Twilight, walking beside him, nodded. “It’s not your fault, I’m sure of that.” She watched the ponies work, unicorns casting spells to find residues and marks, earth ponies and pegasi moving equipment and evidence markers into place for the photographer. “I suppose, but I can’t help but feel responsible. It was all in my care, after all.” Their hoofsteps echoed through the room as they walked, then muffled as they stepped onto the sheets. The fabric shuffled with them, bunching up behind the pair. While it revealed the dark, marbled tiling beneath, here and there were straight streaks of white paint. Twilight made a mental note, but kept her attention on the curator. “Any idea why they took the coronet specifically?” she asked. He snorted. “I’m not sure I’m anywhere near qualified to guess, but if I absolutely have to I’d pin it on somecreature not from Equestria. Everypony who would buy it knows what it is and wouldn’t dare touch it.” They approached the glass case, then stopped. Inside was a cut circle of glass, matching the size and shape of the hole in the side closest to Twilight. “What strikes me as weird,” continued the curator, “was that whoever did it left the other jewellery and smaller art alone. There’s plenty here you could fit into a pocket or saddlebag and no one would think twice about it. A big, silver headband is a little harder to hide.” There was a commotion from the door, the crowd getting louder, and Twilight turned toward it. Even more shouts echoed in the room, both from ponies calling out Twilight’s name, and officers yelling at them to step back from the crime scene. It had distracted the other ponies working inside too, including the photographer who set his camera aside. “I’m sorry,” said Twilight with a little laugh. “I think I’m stepping on your hooves here.” “It’s not your fault, I don’t think. I got word that some of them think it’s some sort of publicity stunt you and the council are putting on.” Twilight tilted her head. “Why would that be?” With a laugh, the curator gestured to the mural. “That,” he said. “It wasn’t there when I closed last night.” Twilight looked over at the mural, taking in its details. It was oddly lifelike, despite its sheer, immense scale. The more she looked the more the details stood out, like painted strands of fur, the odd hair out of place in her mane, and the shine in her eyes. Twilight had the grace to look embarrassed, then laughed again as she stepped behind the curator and the photographer. With a subtle kick and a curled wing, the camera found its way tucked against her side. “I’ll get out of your way. I know how folks can be when they get an idea in their head and me hanging around here doesn’t seem to be helping.” “Thank you, Princess. Both for that and taking this in good stride. I know we’ll find the coronet before long.” The curator nodded to her, then with a sigh marched to the door to help yell at the crowd. Later that night, when the door was locked shut, Twilight broke into the gallery. It wasn’t really breaking in. Officially the building belonged to the local municipal government, and by extension it belonged to parliament, and to her. It was a few steps removed, but she had the authority to come and go as she pleased. Never mind the fact she cast a spell to allow her to simply slip through one of the windows around the base of the dome. And that she had made sure to find a way to shut off the alarms. And made sure none of the guards posted outside saw her. She hovered in place as she let her eyes adjust to the lack of moonlight, barely making out more than the shape of the room. She didn’t want to be spotted just yet, so she held back on casting her hornlight spell. She’d taken note of the details earlier on. Case in the middle, art to one side, and sheets all across the floor behind the case. Twilight let herself fall, beating her wings to slow her descent and settle calmly onto the sheets. She stepped back, bumping up against the wall. Setting the camera down, she gave a flick of her horn and a quick sparkle of magic to throw the sheets back and bunch them up in the centre of the room. The paint was very much still there. Long, white streaks of it, criss-crossed in skinny, perpendicular lines and a few curves. At first, it seemed like a random mess, as though the culprit just wanted to splash pant everywhere on the floor. To Twilight, however, that just didn’t seem right. The mural was so incredibly detailed, after all, yet not a drop of purple or pink had found its way streaked over the floor like that. Yet as she paced around the streaks, it very much seemed like a random mess. There wasn’t much of a pattern to it, other than the fact most of the lines seemed to be straight. As she passed by the glass case, however, everything about the lines came into focus. The lines were skinnier at the far end, close together, while where she stood they were broad and thick, more spaced out. It was as if they were closing into some vanishing point opposite her. She didn’t remember seeing anything from that side of the room a few minutes ago, but maybe from another perspective… Twilight looked up at the far wall, meeting the gaze of the unlit mural. She took off, casting a small light spell as she flew, then scrambled across the wall until she found the enlarged eyes. She considered for a moment if she should be in front of one eye or the other, then decided to split the difference and hover between them. She turned up the luminosity of her spell, then faced the splashes across the floor. What she saw was text. It was large, not enough to carry a particular long message, but it was enough. It was complete. Twilight dipped down to grab the camera, then took a snapshot of the scene from that unique vantage point. With a little extra boost of light from both her horn and the camera’s flash, she figured the polaroid that printed out should hold up. Hello the love of my life. This will be short. I only have so much paint and so much space. It’s a little rude to call your wife predictable. I’ll show you predictable. So I stole the coronet you made for me! Take that. Yours, you-know-who.
Chapter 4There weren’t a lot of trains that left Equestria. Most of them ran to its borders at most. There was an exception to the south, however. A long line that ran past Appleloosa, into the badlands and beyond. It was a route maintained by ponies the entire length, but at some point along the journey Rarity wouldn’t be hearing much Equestrian. While the bar car was lit, it was dark enough that it gave Rarity some privacy for her thoughts. The silence helped, too, save for the kachunk-kachunk of the wheels and rails. She left most of her belongings in the cabin, save for a single bag she stuffed beneath the table she sat at, nursing some dark brown drink that came from Griffonstone. Between looking out the window and hiding beneath a wide, floppy hat, she was certain she wouldn’t be noticed and bothered. There wasn’t much to see outside. It was a poor time of the month for the moon’s reflected sunlight to bathe the world in its cool blue hues. All Rarity could make out were the trees and posts the train passed and lit with the lights from the cars, plus the distant lights of some village or town. It made her a little homesick. That settlement could have been Ponyville for all she knew, save for the fact she was on a line that went nowhere near her hometown. It still nevertheless felt the same. She’d seen it from a similar vantage point before, like staring into a valley of static fireflies, dimming out one by one as they went to sleep. Feeling a presence beside her, Rarity turned her head and started to say, “I don’t need anything thank you.” She got to the second half of anything then shut her mouth as she looked at a stallion sitting opposite her. “I—I’m not interested,” she said instead, switching from polite indifference to stammering. He winced, but kept his grin. His lilac coat wrinkled around deep, purple eyes, while much of the rest of him was hidden beneath a long coat. “Oof, not even a hello. Somepony’s got to work on her manners.” “Sorry,” said Rarity. “That was a bit rude, I just…” She hummed. “I meant to say I want to be alone, and I, well—“ “You assumed I was going to get my flirt on?” he asked, his face smoothing out. He laughed. “It’s not uncommon on train rides like these, I know. But, trust me, you’re safe from any lecherous intent. I’m, ah, not interested in mares like that.” Rarity blinked, then her shoulders dropped. “Oh, well, good. The feeling is mutual.” “Ooh, that one was intentional.” Rarity smirked. “It was.” He laughed again, and though his voice was deep it was oddly high and pleasant. Rarity kept eye contact for a few moments before turning back to the window, her hat mostly obscuring him from her vision. She sipped her drink, then set the glass back down. “What did you want?” she asked. He shrugged and leaned back in his seat. “Company, conversation. I can’t sleep, and neither can you. Figured you’d like a little of the same.” “I’m not sure I’ll be a great conversationalist right now,” admitted Rarity. He nodded, then looked out of the window. The distant lights were moving steadily across the window, growing dimmer and smaller as they travelled. “Missing home?” he asked. “A little.” “Why are you out here?” She sighed, the smiled. “Adventure.” He laughed again, rocking in his chair. “It’s as good a reason as any.” She hummed, then took another swig of her drink. They sat in silence for the next few minutes. “Do you regret coming out here?” Rarity turned to face the stallion again. “Not at all,” she answered. He nodded, maintaining his gaze with her for a few more moments. She felt like she was being studied by him, and after a minute she broke the staring contest and looked back outside. The village was gone. She was further away from home than she was before. The chair opposite her scraped on wood, and the stallion sighed. “You were right, not a great talker. Here I was hoping to make your night a little more exciting.” He walked away, then opened a door to the next car, letting the wind and noise from outside carry in. “Goodnight, Rarity.” The door shut, and her head shot up. Her heart thumped away in her chest as she rushed up to the door the stallion had walked through, then looked through its window to the next car along. She didn’t see him, just empty seats of a cheaper ticket car. With a huff she turned away from the door and the thought. She couldn’t let ponies figuring out who she was get to her like that. She could only hide from the public eye for so long, after all. She had connections, she was in bed with a Princess. She was absolutely recognizable. It was a wonder she hadn’t been all over the tabloids already, truth be told. She huffed to herself, holding her head high, and walked back to the table. Her bag was gone from beneath it. Instead there was a folded envelope beneath her nearly empty glass, a little damp from condensation. With a tightness in her chest, she snatched up the envelope and tore the letter out from inside. She unfolded it, holding the corners taut at the corners, and read. Her anger didn’t disappear. It intensified, but it had an added, determined edge to it that cut through her face in a grin. She tore it up, sprinkled it over the table, then darted the direction the stallion departed. Dear Rarity, You did a really excellent job with the gallery. I’ve thought a lot about how you did it all, but that message was really impressive. I guess my math and cryptography talks managed to sink in at some point. Of course I have to take the coronet back. I figured getting you to chase me instead would be a fun change of pace. Catch me if you can! Love, Twilight.
