"Rarity."

"Fuck no, Darling."

"C'mon. She'll behave!"

"Absolutely fucking not, Darling."

"But she needs a new collar! Hers broke!"

"Do I look like I deal in petware, Darling? Oh, and do answer that carefully."

Anon groans, rubbing his temple.

He was stood outside Rarity's boutique; the two locked at an impasse.

While out of consideration for what Twilight did to Anon some days prior, she'd filled the moat, removed the sandbags and unboarded the windows. (It was starting to cause ill rumor among her client base, anyway). Crossbow was gone, too. Probably.

However, that consideration did not extend to Barfy, who sat beside Anon. She'd hit a depressive episode, staring sadly at the floor for almost a full day now.

"She got it caught on something while flying around and her collar broke! Come on, Rarity! You know I can't take her to Canterlot, and I can't leave her here to go alone!" Anon calls out.

Slowly, the front door creaks open. The faintest hint of Rarity's purple mane peeks through, her eye glaring from between the crack.

"Darling, dearest Anon. Even the Element of Generosity has its... limits..." Rarity trails off, her gaze roaming to Barfy. There's an odd quiet for a moment, before the door shuts.

Anon goes to groan, unsure of what to do -- when he hears several locks begin to click, and the door to Rarity's Boutique slowly opens.

"...Come sit in the lounge, Darlings. Touch nothing else." Rarity states firmly.

Very odd feelings sat within Rarity, as she invited Ponyvilles two finest oddities past the bulwark of her final, goop-free safe haven.

Anon sits quietly on the lounge couch, twiddling his thumbs, unsure. Barfy slowly joins him, sitting directly against him, her gaze to the floor. Leaning on him.

Rarity watches the pair with a muted expression. Somethings up.

Inside, she was becoming aware to something that only she could detect. Twilight might notice the Physical changes -- she was an observant one. But Rarity had already clocked something much deeper.

As a workaholic, proudly single Mare, Rarity was a massive fan of Romance. Novels, movies -- tragic and sweet. She loved it all. The knight who saves the princess, the dashing rogue who sweeps the lady off her hooves.

This put her in a unique position, alone in her sole station as Ponyvilles greatest Romantic.

Which is why she flipped her stance so quickly, after but a glance at the pair.

Rarity abhorred the idea of Anon's little weird bug pet getting its gross goop all over the place. Smearing its filthy little honey-like filth, ruining days of progress of work, or her mane, or anything else.

But that wasn't his weird little bug pet sitting beside him.

Anon watches her with surprise as Rarity directly approaches Barfy, standing within a foot of her.

She was nearly Rarity's size, now. Her chitin held a soft, crisp luster, her horn sleek. The squishy, jello-like parts of her body held a rich gold color, and didn't so much as drip. Nor did she drool, Rarity watching her mouth silently for some time. Not a hack, gasp, cough, spit -- nothing. Even her emerald eyes, void of pupils, held these soft eyelashes.

Her fin had grown, almost down to her shoulders now -- comparable to a Mane. Her wings, once ratty little appendages that buzzed uselessly, now sat properly closed and folded away. Even her tail, once a stubby protrusion, now draped down her flank.

Rarity knew Changelings fed on love; everyone did. And whatever love Anon was feeding Barfy, Barfy was interpreting this love in a very specific way.

This wasn't a silly little gross bug that Anon brought home.

In front of Rarity, sat a miserable Mare. Not quite there yet -- she still did that... weird blink thing.

Squish.

Squa-- yes, yes, that. Enough of that. This is a Rarity perspective, and we'll be having none of that.

If this kept up... which, with how these two were so hopelessly intertwined, it wasn't a question of if, but when.

"Where is it?" Rarity asks simply, glancing to Anon. He fishes it out of his pocket, and her blueish hint of magic grasps it, holding it up for inspection.

A simple collar, with a nametag dangling off of it, torn on one end of the band so it couldn't clasp anymore. This would not do.

A measuring tape slowly flits over, grasped in a similar glow.

"Pardon me, dear." Rarity whispers, leaning close as she measures Barfy's neck, and her hoof. Any semblance of her previous worry is gone, entirely overwritten.

Anon quietly watches as Rarity takes the collar to her workstation.

Over the course of half an hour, Rarity carefully lays it out, stitching and repairing but; but she seems to spend a fair amount of time modifying it.

When she finally steps back towards the pair, she holds two items, not one.

The first, is the newly reminted collar. Now, most of the pseudo-leather pet-collar vibe has been replaced, making it look like a... material bracelet, which she gingerly wraps around the "wrist" of Barfy's front-left hoof.

The other, is a necklace. The nametag that had dangled off the collar now had a ribbon-like loop, tied carefully around the nametag, which had been softly re-shaped to look more minimal and stylized.

Rarity gently floats this around Barfy's neck, clasping it together.

Barfy slowly glances between the two, as a soft blue glow cups her cheek.

"It's unfitting for a Mare to wear such a thing so brazenly in public; so I hope you can forgive my alterations, Darling." She says softly, reassuring Barfy.

Rarity is surprised as the Changeling wraps its hooves around her, pulling her close into a tight hug. Part of Rarity still tenses, expecting a glob of golden drool -- but it never comes, the Changeling releasing her. She's smiling, now. Good. Rarity sighs in relief, before hopping up onto one of her lounge chairs herself.

"Hey, uh -- thanks Rarity. I didn't expect you to -"

"Don't sweat it, Darling."

"How much do I owe you?"

"On the House, Darling. Now run along -- and treat her right. I've orders to catch up on."

"Oh, uh... thanks." Anon scratches the back of his head; before he's dragged out the door by an excited Barfy.

~

Even after the two had departed, Rarity watches them from the window, squinting from behind curtains. Barfy -- goodness, that poor thing needed to pick a better name -- had soared out of her previous funk, now happily trotting directly beside Anon, so close they bumped into each-other several times.

Rarity groans loudly, slumping back dramatically across the floor. Proudly single didn't mean willingly single.

She needed to remind the Author to stop including her in all these romance stories, if she wasn't going to get her own. How hard was it to write up a hunk for such a fair maiden like her??

Author's Note