Amazons Are In This Winterby libertydudeChaptersA PropositionModel StudentWalk the WalkA PropositionNopony gave the dark-coated unicorn a second glance when she stepped off the train. The cold weather made her hood and cloak seem like a natural fit, and her relaxed walking did not betray her own nervousness. Besides, plenty of other ponies were flooding into Canterlot for the Hearth’s Warming festivities, making her just another face in the ever-burgeoning crowd. So nopony bothered her as she made her way deeper into Canterlot, towards the heart of the fashion district. Tempest Shadow certainly hadn’t expected to return to the city she’d conquered just a few months before. Winding her way through the streets, she found little sign of damage from the Storm King’s forces. Only holiday wreathes with red bows and multi-colored lights hanging from the windowsills provided any notable difference to Canterlot’s bustling streets, and the crowd around her shuffled through the snow with little regard for anypony else. How many of these ponies would scream if I brought my hood down? Tempest pondered, sidestepping a group of colts laughing and running down the street. Would the Royal Guard be called? Princess Twilight pardoned me, but a few might still have a grudge and- No, none of that, she chided herself. Focusing too much on the past was what got her into the Storm King’s service. She needed to follow Princess Twilight’s advice, focusing more on the present and doing what she could to spread friendship to others. In fact, that was the reason she was in Canterlot to begin with. A week ago, while Tempest was in the Crystal Empire, a letter came from Canterlot Carousel, a fashion boutique in Canterlot. The sender was Rarity, one of Princess Twilight’s closest friends, who’d asked for Tempest’s help with “a most unusual problem”. The fashionista’s letter had been rather vague, all things considered, with only a plea that Tempest be in Canterlot by Hearth’s Warming Eve. The letter’s mysterious nature proved too much for Tempest to resist. Always pushing herself to be better had been her life goal after the Ursa Minor hurt her all those years ago, and the promise of some strange adventure provoked the conquering spirit she’d gained over the years. The conquest would likely be a minor, relatively trifling problem; probably some dispute with a rival fashion pony or an infestation of fabric-eating moths, but still something she could sink her teeth into and help somepony in a small way. Fortunately, Canterlot Carousel was not hard to find. Once within the fashion district, with its gaudy buildings and windows lined with the latest dresses, every street corner within the district listed all the top fashion houses and directions to them. Canterlot Carousel was always featured near the top. Twilight had mentioned the store opened only 2 years ago, so Rarity had obviously made a splash in the fashion world rather quickly. A passionate and determined mare, Tempest thought, kicking up snow with each step. Respectable. Admirable, even. Soon, the boutique came into view. A wide, circular building, the place’s purple coloring stood out in the whited-out capital. Her hooves clopping up the stone steps, Tempest pulled the door open and stepped inside. A wide showroom stretched before Tempest. The dull blue-grey floor contrasted with the thick curtains that glowed a dark purple and stretched across both stories of the building. A circular stage filled the far wall of the first floor, and wide windows filled the room with soft daylight. Winding stairs led up to the second floor, where racks of clothes hung unmoving. The faint sound of a sewing machine echoed from the upper floor. “Hello?” Tempest called, pulling her hood off. “Rarity? Are you h-?” Pop! A brilliant flash filled the store, and Tempest instinctively leaped into an defensive pose. Adrenaline pumped throughout her body, ready for the attack that must be happening. A blast of fireworks, or a lightning spell, or- An excited fashionista. Standing before Tempest was a white mare with a curled purple mane. An ear-to-ear grin filled her face. “Oh Tempest, darling!” she squealed, wrapping the unicorn in a hard hug. “I’m so glad you made it!” Tempest did not move, only staring down at the mare in confusion. Any attempt to move was foiled by the unicorn’s iron grasp. “Hello, Rarity,” Tempest wheezed. “I got your letter and-“ “Yes, you did!” She released Tempest and began to prance around her. “And now it will all be perfect! I’ll be a shoe-in for the fashion show!” “What do you-?” “First, we have to do measurements! Then, a practice walk!” She twisted to Tempest. “Have you any modeling experience?” A flush of red filled Tempest’s face. “Well, no, I-“ “Oh, that’s not important, darling! I’ll play tutor and show you how to walk. It’ll be fine. With your fabulous physique and my passion, you’ll look like you walked out of a cosmopolitan magazine!” “Wait, I’m-“ “But I’ll have to be quick. Sassy’s putting the final touches on the last batch, and I’ll need to smooth over the-“ “Rarity!” Tempest hollered, her voice echoing through the store. The fashionista stared at her in shock. “What is going on here?” Rarity stared at her in confusion. “Whatever do you mean, darling? You got my letter, didn’t you?” “Yes,” Tempest said, “and all it said was that you had a ‘most unusual problem’ you needed me to solve at your Canterlot boutique.” A frown filled Rarity’s face. “I’m sure I said more than that.” Tempest shook her head. “Perhaps you wrote the letter too fast and only put a few thoughts on it. You were probably too busy with…whatever this is you have going on.” Rarity sighed. “Yes, I suppose I’m prone to such lapses. In that case, the bluntest explanation is most appropriate.” At this, she grabbed Tempest and pulled her in close to her face. “Tempest, I need you to model in tomorrow’s fashion show.” “What?!” Tempest stumbled backwards, landing on her flank. “The Hearth’s Warming Fashion Show! It’s held every year here in Canterlot, where only the top fashion makers can submit. This is the first year I’ve been allowed in, so I was required to host the show. And I needed something spectacular, something completely amazing to prove I deserved a spot. “So I began thinking of themes for my next dress line. The usual concepts came and went, and I was struggling to think of anything as the deadline closed in. But I’m a mare who thrives on pressure, Tempest, and the heat just made me cook up an incredible idea. Perhaps the dresses should not be the safe output for mares with too much money. Maybe…” Her eyes seemed to light up. “…Maybe the theme should be for mares of action. Amazons who could fight and kick like no other. Fighters who could wrestle the toughest stallion to the ground and eat nails for breakfast!” She pointed at Tempest, still sitting dumbfounded on the ground. “And I knew you needed to be the face of my line! No mare in recent memory has so befitted the title of ‘Mare of Action’, fighting with her bare hooves and possessing the keen craftiness of a warrior. Any average model wearing what I’ve made would look silly, unappealing. A tiny mouse pretending to be a mighty lion. But on you, the piece would be magnificent! Nopony in Canterlot would be able to deny the artistic value of the fashion!” She stretched her hoof out to Tempest. “So what do you say? Are you ready to become Equestria’s Next Top Model?” Tempest blinked, her jaw still open. “You brought me here…to be in a fashion show?” “Yes, that’s what I just said!” Tempest shot up. “I thought you were in some kind of dispute! Some horrible danger that would destroy your boutique!” “Oh, but I am, darling! Debuting with lackluster models would be the death knell of any self-respecting fashion head!” “I mean something vicious, violent! Like a runaway animal or some criminal threatening you!” A full-throated laugh escaped Rarity. “Goodness gracious, Tempest! This is a fashion house, not a jungle! The only dangers here are losing your reputation or purchasing an overpriced gown.” Tempest huffed. “Then I don’t think you need my help here.” She turned toward the door, only to find her rear hooves wrapped up. Looking down, she saw Rarity wrapped around her back legs. “Please, Tempest!” Rarity cried with pleading eyes. “My line was specifically created with you in mind! Without you, it’ll be a joke!” “What do you mean, ‘for me’? Last I heard, I wasn’t too popular in Canterlot.” “Oh, you’re as popular as typhoid around here, dear!” Rarity chirped. “But that’s precisely why you’d work so well! Imagine! The former Conqueror of Canterlot, transmogrified from an oppressor to an icon of beauty! Yes, they may hate you, even tear their manes out the second they see you on that runway! But they’ll be unable to deny the daring of choosing you as the model, and project those feelings onto the dress itself!” Her body shook in ecstatic glee. “It’s sure to be the talk of the town! Pure shock value transmogrified into fashionable sensation!” Tempest rolled her eyes. “There are plenty of tough-looking mares out there in the streets. Walk up to one, pay her a couple of bits, and she can wear your dress.” “No!” Rarity screamed. “I can’t go searching all of Canterlot for some tall, well-built mare! By the time I found one, I wouldn’t be able to set up for the show!” She wrapped her hooves harder around Tempest’s legs. “And you’re already here! I’d just need to take a few measurements to fit the dress, give you a little talk through on how to walk the runway, and then all is done!” Tempest began shaking her legs free. “I’m not a fashion mare, Rarity, but even I know a war pony can’t become a model overnight.” “Why not?” Rarity said, her hooves still grasping for Tempest’s now-free legs. “You’re a mare of many talents. A fashion runway would be filly’s play for you.” “Maybe I don’t want to be a model. I certainly didn’t come here for that.” “Expand your horizons! Leap into the unknown world of fashion with gumption and passion, and you’ll be rewarded in some way!” “No thanks,” Tempest said, reaching for the door. “I’ve had my horizons expanded plenty over the last few months.” “Please, Tempest!” Rarity whined. “I’ll be a complete joke in Canterlot if you don’t perform! I’ll be run out of town on a rail! I’ll be banished from Equestria!” Tempest looked back at her, a single eyebrow raised. Rarity gave a sheepish grin. “Alright, maybe not that last one. But still! I need you, Tempest. And I’m willing to help you in any way I can if you help me.” “Such as?” “Any dress you want from my collection! A weekend in Las Pegasus! A year’s worth of massages from the Ponyville Spa! Anything, anything, darling! Tempest rubbed her chin, then gave a devilish smile. “Half the profits from whatever Mare of Action dresses you sell.” “Done!” “Wha-?” Tempest’s face filled with shock. “You’re…you’re not curious why I want that?” Rarity shrugged. “To live on, I suppose. A wanderer like you probably lacks a steady income, and with this, you wouldn’t have to worry about funds impeding your journey around the world.” “That’s…actually correct.” “Great! Then we can get started!” “I must admit, I thought you’d bargain more.” “No time for that!” Rarity hollered, grabbing Tempest’s hoof and dragging her upstairs. “I can bemoan my lost profits after you’ve been measured and lit the Canterlot fashion scene on fire!” Tempest gave a low chuckle. “Maybe the fashion world is more cutthroat than the military…” Author's Note There was originally an opening section that showed Tempest coming into Canterlot on a train, but I cut it because it was more exposition than action. Also, Tempest being in the Crystal Empire is a reference to the IDW comics, where Tempest had an adventure there in Issues 67 and 68. Model Student“One, two, three, step! One, two, three, step!” Tempest rolled her eyes as Rarity barked the orders. The former soldier stepped in time with the commands, strolling across the boutique’s floor with precision. Yet Rarity’s face belied no approval of her gait. “You’re stepping too fast,” Rarity huffed. “You need to bring your front hooves up higher, so your legs flash more often.” “I’m stepping in time,” Tempest said, her voice even. “In time, but not on time. Do it again.” Tempest sighed and strolled back to the opposite side of the boutique. The last three hours had been a bizarre mish-mash of events. First, Rarity had taken Tempest upstairs to measure the unicorn’s body. To her delight, her mental estimations of Tempest’s figure were near perfect, requiring only the subtlest of adjustments to make it fit perfectly. The dress itself was a fascinating mix of black fabric and tanned leather, both hugging Tempest’s body while the thin skirt draped off her flank. She had to admit the piece fit the theme; she could see an ancient Amazon wearing the dress into battle. After that, Rarity began coaching Tempest on how to walk like a model. Tempest had expected this to be a trifling affair, a simple half-hour lesson about how to look pretty and smile. She’d done her fair share of military rallies in service of the Storm King, so she knew this would be a walk in the park. Come the first hour’s conclusion, however, Tempest realized this would be no easy task. The eye for detail Rarity brought to her dresses remained constant even in her coaching, with each and every mistake Tempest made being pointed out the second Rarity spotted it. Every part of Tempest’s body, from her face to her hips, seemed to be part of the exercise, and Rarity would not rest until every single element was in perfect unity. By the time Tempest reached the boutique’s far side, the unmistakable exhaustion of the exercises was clear upon her face. “Look determined, not tired,” Rarity called out. “We need emotion, but not too much. An Amazon is stoic in war, and the runway shall be our battlefield.” Tempest shook her head. “Have you even been in a real battle?” “Yes, actually. Back when the Changelings invaded. And I know how to drill obstinacy out of soldiers, Commander.” There was a firmness to the word that surprised Tempest, but her disconcertion soon left her and she steadied herself for another stroll. “One, two, three, step!” Rarity called out, and Tempest began the practice walk again. Once more standing before Rarity, a disapproving nod came from the fashionista. “Your timing is better, but your shoulders are too stiff. They’re supposed to move in rhythm with your front legs. Hold them too tight, and your front legs won’t move as smoothly.” She waved her hoof. “Do it again.” Tempest sighed and trotted back to the far wall. “Half the profits is looking less and less good now.” “No distractions!” Rarity called. “Focus only on your walk, then you can bemoan life’s troubles later!” Tempest turned, steadying herself once more. “One, two, three, step!” Rarity called out. Each step rang out upon the hard floor. Up, down, up, down, the rhythm perfect and unyielding. Rarity’s hollered words and the hoofsteps matched in tandem all the way across the floor. The strange cacophony of noise should’ve been chaos, but the precision of their timing made the sound more pleasing to the ear than they had any right to be. Tempest could not hold back her soft smile as she stopped in front of Rarity. Her timing was impeccable, her body in time with her hooves, her – “You got too haughty toward the end,” Rarity said, head shaking. “Models must have passion, but not arrogance. Keep your face set and knock off those smug little grins.” She pointed at Tempest’s hooves. “And you were lifting your hooves too high that time. They should go up above your barrel, but not above your chest.” Tempest closed her eyes and sighed. “And keep your eyes open too. None of this squinting business. Eyes are the window to the soul, so the audience needs to see them as wide open as possible.” “I…” Tempest rolled a hoof through her hair. “Rarity, why can’t I just walk like myself?” “Because that’s not how models walk, Tempest.” “But you wanted a Mare of Action, right? Somepony who could walk like a tough fighter? Well, that’s how I walk.” She squinted her eyes and marched in a circle, her front hooves going up all the way to her chest. A proud face filled her visage as she gazed around the shop, like she was a queen surveying her kingdom. With a sudden stop, she turned and faced Rarity. Rarity shook her head. “It’s a lovely walk, darling. But it’s not what will fit in a fashion show.” “And this hokum you’re teaching me will? It’s fake! Nopony walks like that in real life.” “Of course not. It’s exaggerated, but exquisite. Ponies can see what a dress looks like and how a mare wears it. A model’s job is to add their own touch, while not distracting from the dress itself.” “I can add my own touch,” Tempest huffed. “Just let me walk like I normally walk.” Rarity shook her head. “Your natural walk denotes precision, but not humility. You’re used to having ponies notice you wherever you go, so restraining yourself on that account will denote a discipline in your manner.” Tempest shook her head. “You shouldn’t be lecturing a former military commander on discipline.” “Well, I am. And you’ll need it if you’re to impress the Canterlot fashion scene.” “Who I don’t care about,” Tempest grumbled. “Do you care about yourself, then? How ponies see you?” Tempest sighed. “You know I do.” Her eyes lit up. “In fact, that’s why I should walk like myself. My walk is a part of me, and changing it would lie about who I am. You wanted me for my authenticity to the theme, right? Then I should be myself!” Rarity leaned her head back, deep in thought. Then, a wry smile came across her face. “Alright then, Tempest,” she said in a relaxed tone. “You want to walk as yourself? Then answer this single question.” “Shoot.” “Who are you?” Confusion filled Tempest’s face. “I’m…I’m Tempest Shadow.” “Alright. Who is that?” “Me,” she huffed. “No, I mean who is that? What makes up Tempest? What are her desires and fears?” Tempest rolled her eyes. “You’re not trying to get me into philosophy too, are you?” “No, I’m simply asking you to say who you are.” “Why?” “Because you have to know yourself before you can explain it to anypony else. Tell me who you are as a pony and how your walk shows who you are. Then you can walk however you want on my runway.” “Alright then…I’m a former military commander.” Rarity shook her head. “Pure biography. Say something of substance.” Tempest shrugged. “I…like apricots.” “So do many school-fillies. Doesn’t tell me anything notable about Tempest Shadow.” The unicorn threw her hooves up in the air. “Then I guess I’m nopony at all!” Rarity shook her head. “No. You’re somepony, Tempest. You just don’t know who.” “Yes I d-“ “Did you think you’d be here a year ago?” “What?” “Did you think you’d be here, in Canterlot, among ponies again and learning how to model?” “Of course not.” “Did you think you would be traveling the world on your own volition, or did you expect to serve the Storm King for the rest of your life?” Tempest sighed. “You already know the answer.” “And would you say that your whole life changed the day Twilight saved you, despite everything you did?” “…Yes.” “Then how would you know who you are just a few months after that? Do you think your past self would recognize the mare you became, even if it was for the better? Could you even be called the same pony as her?” Tempest said nothing, with only the crunching steps of ponies on the snow-laden street outside making any noise through the boutique. Rarity put a hoof on Tempest’s shoulder. “I don’t say this to upset you, Tempest. Only to make a point. You are a good pony now, I have no doubt, and I thank you so much for doing this fashion show for me. But I want you to see my perspective, not be cast off as an obsessive creative who pulls opinions and critiques out of her flank. And…And I want you to know who you are too, so that when this is all over, you can hold your head up high and not live your life in shame anymore.” A soft laugh came from Tempest. “Twilight put you up to this, didn’t she?” Rarity smiled. “No, but she’d probably appreciate my method.” Tempest sighed. “Well, alright then. Let’s keep practicing and see if I can become myself, if not a model.” Rarity beamed. “Now that’s the determination I’d expect from a military mare.” Author's Note It was important to show Rarity as teacher in this part. Tempest's worldview really was shook when the Storm King betrayed her, so she really needed somepony to show her who she could be. Walk the WalkOnce Rarity’s walking lessons had ended, the unicorn had set about transforming her boutique into a suitable auditorium. Lights were hung from the tall ceiling, both traditional Hearth’s Warming decorative bulbs and strong spotlights that could illuminate the stage below. Then came the runway, brought out in pieces and connected to make the long walkway. A simple roll of fabric atop the platform hid its fragmentary nature. A set of chairs and benches soon came out to surround the stage and runway. Tempest helped Rarity with the endeavor, both silent save for directions about the positions of the stagecraft. Perhaps the fashionista recognized the toil of the day would allow no idle chit-chat, or that her lessons had exhausted Tempest. However, Tempest could tell by the constantly shifting eyes and the manic dashes between the chairs that Rarity was nervous. Too much leaned on this fashion show, and the unicorn knew she could not falter if her reputation was to remain intact. Thus, Tempest did not push her for more information throughout the rest of the day, and quietly departed after the final chair was set. “Be here tomorrow at noon sharp!” Rarity called out as Tempest stepped toward the door. “We’ll go over a few more things before the other models show up!” And so Tempest did, arriving five minutes early on Hearth’s Warming Day. To her surprise, Rarity did not demand any more walking exercises, but instead more measurements. Ever the perfectionist, Rarity would not be satisfied by the previous day’s fitting, and dragged Tempest to the first floor’s backroom to do one last check of the outfit. Every single inch of Tempest’s body was examined, every limb’s proportion carefully calculated. Tempest almost wanted to laugh at the fashionista’s devotion to the miniscule adjustments, but she begat no merriment at the scene. Hate to admit it, Tempest thought, but her passion for these dresses is starting to rub off on me. Precision is the province of both military mares and fashion designers. It was just as the final adjustment was made that the other models started coming into the boutique. Rarity dashed over to them, her directions and instructions pouring out with rapidity. Yet the mares, all lovely and prim, did not show any confusion over the fashionista’s commands, instead quickly filing upstairs to the fitting rooms to prepare themselves. Still in the backroom, none saw Tempest peeking out at them. The other fashion moguls of Canterlot filed in soon afterwards, their luxury coats and designer hats being quickly given to the hat mares milling about the front door, who immediately brushed the newly fallen snow off the garments. The benches and chairs filled up quickly, and there was not a single empty space within a half hour. Indeed, a fair number of the participants found themselves standing toward the back, annoyed but still focused upon the stage in anticipation of the show. None of the audience saw Tempest make her way from the backroom to behind the stage’s curtain. The hustle and bustle of the show distracted all eyes and made the unicorn just another face in the crowd. Even her fellow models, pressed into the limited space of the stage’s sides, did not react to Tempest at all. Likely the darkness of backstage and the tension in perfecting their own strolls down the runway kept their eyes from the broken horn upon her head. Indeed, Tempest found herself pondering her own walk. Rarity’s directions echoed in her mind like an army slogan: steps below the chest and above the barrel, face firm but not passionless, the whole body in motion, legs never stiff. Tempest shuffled in place, trying her best to emulate the walk in the crowded space. The motions came easily, but the unmistakable look of nervousness filled her face. “Don’t worry, darling,” Rarity’s voice whispered. Tempest turned to find her standing beside her. “Just do as we practiced, and you’ll be fine.” Tempest chuckled. “And if I’m not, I’ll just kick every critic in the audience.” “That’s the spirit! Stay loose, and you’ll find your rhythm.” “Rarity!” a voice called. “We need a quick tie-off for Petunia’s dress!” “Fiddlesticks!” Rarity gave a comforting pat on Tempest’s back. “Break a leg, or maybe two!” She then whisked off toward the voice. Five minutes later, the show had started. Bland techno music started to pulsate through the boutique, and the first model began her walk. Tempest, huddled behind the curtain, could not see the audience nor the models as they strutted, but she could gauge the reaction based on the frequency of the crowd’s mutterings. The faster and louder the mumbles, the more approval a dress had. Utter silence was the sign the displayed dress was a total turkey. The few models unfortunate to gain the crowd’s disdain returned backstage with dismayed expressions. Tempest shuffled in place. She was to be the last model, the coup de grace as Rarity called her. Her surprise appearance was meant to be a stunt, a shock against the gathered fashion heads’ comfort in the typical winter fashion show. From an artistic perspective, the choice made sense. For Tempest, however, the feeling was more akin to a prisoner last in line for execution. There was no anticipation or excitement for her, only a grim readiness for catastrophe. At best, the audience would be disgusted by the mare and file out in droves, emptying the boutique before Tempest even finished her walk. At worst, a pony might jump upon Tempest and start a fight that’d snowball into an outright riot. These ponies, Tempest mused, take their fashion seriously. Seeing me in their domain might drive them to madness. Ever the planner, a million terrible scenarios played in Tempest’s head as each model made their way down the stage. Each possible disaster played in the former commander’s head, to the point that it was a shock when the stage director called out, “Fizzlepop! You’re up next!” Tempest laughed. Of course Rarity registered me under my birth name. Hides my surprise appearance. She strode forward to the opening in the curtain, staying just out of the light that streamed through. The steps of the second-to-last model grew louder and louder as she finished her walk. Her shadow started to fill the open space. Three seconds to destruction, Tempest mused. The calm before the storm. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. No, she couldn’t have such thoughts. There was no room for doubt, for worry. Every campaign she’d fought had been with a cool mind and determined action. She would stroll out there, displaying Rarity’s Mare of Action dress, then walk back. The world would not end, the city of Canterlot would not burn, and Tempest would be back to her travels in no time. And, on the off chance the fashion district chased Rarity out of town, Tempest would help her pack. The model, a pure white mare with a lily-colored mane, strolled past Tempest. Her face was bland and unreadable. “Go!” the stage manager called. With controlled precision, Tempest stepped into the opening and walked out onto the runway. The first thing she heard were the shocked gasps. Her eyes did not deviate from looking straight ahead to the runway’s end; Rarity’s training had grilled into her the need for the eyes to never move. Yet she still heard the surprised cries and fearful mumblings from the audience surrounding her. “Ooooh!” one mare cried out, fainting to the floor. Tempest’s every instinct told her to run backstage, or make a bolt for the front door. These ponies were shocked now, but in a moment, their eyes would fill with rage and they’d rush the stage, ready to tear her to pieces. She couldn’t fight all them off bare-hooved, despite her training, and she didn’t have the heart to start blasting the wretches with her destructive magical blasts. No, she needed to escape, she needed to- A sharp breath filled her lungs. Keep to the march, soldier, she thought, her steps still echoing through the boutique. Do not break, no matter what the enemy is throwing at you. Keep going until Tartarus freezes over. And so her walk continued. Her steps were high, but not above the chest. A firm expression filled her face, and her eyes stared ahead, with only the faintest squint. Clop, clop, clop, her hooves made upon the runway, in time with the music which blared on. Reaching the runway’s end, Tempest struck a pose. One hoof lifted and the others planted into the platform, she cast a commanding gaze over the crowd. The murmurs died as the audience took in the strange mare, decked in her darksome fabric and leather garb, and silence ruled over the crowd. Turning on her heel, Tempest started walking back to the curtain. Each step seemed louder than the next, but her rhythm never changed. She could feel the herd’s eyes taking in the skirt of the dress and the swaying of her body with each step. All eyes were upon her, for better or for worse, and none left her until she disappeared into the blackness behind the curtain. The musical track blaring throughout the show came to an end. No words echoed throughout the boutique. Tempest gave a mirthless chuckle. Well, silent hatred is better than physical assault. I guess I'll- A fantastic roar went out through the crowd. Applause dominated the cacophony, with approving shouts coming out from different voices around the room. In the same moment, Tempest found herself being swarmed by the other models. “You were fantastic!” the lily-maned white mare said. “Absolutely fantastic!” “Yes!” a golden colored mare cheered. “Professional on every level, yet steeped in individual experience!” “Teach me your walking ways, Commander!” a black-maned mare cried out. “Thanks?” Tempest said, trying not to be crushed by her new fan club. Jostled closer and closer toward the curtain, Tempest heard the crowd’s whoops slowly transform into legible words. “A fascinating choice,” a stallion’s voice intoned close to the stage. “Taking a persona associated with Equestria’s destruction and turning her into a beacon of action.” “Yes!” a mare responded. “I thought perhaps they were relying too much on shock value, but Tempest’s walk and pose denoted a latent talent in presentational awareness!” “She certainly fit the mold of the dress’s theme,” the stallion continued. “And nopony could doubt her credentials as a ‘Mare of Action’.” “I’m certainly inspired by her!” the mare squeaked. A strange sensation filled Tempest’s being. The shock started filtering out into puzzlement, the compliments of her fellow models and the audience starting to blur together in her ears. They…liked me? It seemed too much like a dream. She was about to ask somepony to pinch her when a ball of white threw a hug around Tempest’s neck. “You did it, darling!” Rarity cheered, squeezing Tempest tight. “You’re the toast of Canterlot’s Fashion Row!” “I...How…” Tempest sputtered. “What did I do?” Rarity broke her hug and looked dead into Tempest’s eyes. “You were yourself, Tempest! You walked like a proper model, but you also infused your own self into your walk. Powerful and precise, with a professional bent!” She gestured toward the open curtain. “You made a variation on a formula, and they saw it! Not just saw it, but understood it!” Tempest rubbed the back of her head. “That’s great, because I sure don’t understand.” “Oh, you needn’t worry about the aesthetical elements, dear! Just bask in your glory! Come, come, they want to see you again!” She was dragging Tempest toward the open curtain, the applause still echoing through the boutique. “Wait, Rarity!” Tempest called. “Don’t get stage fright now, Tempest! We need to-“ Rarity felt herself jerked back. Before a shout could escape her, she found herself clutched in a bear hug. Surprise filled her face, before the grip released and Tempest stared down at her. “Thank you, Rarity,” Tempest said, eyes glimmering. “For what, darling?” “For making me do this. I…I thought every Canterlot pony would hate me for as long as they lived. Because…” Her head started to hang. “…Because I would’ve hated anypony who did what I did to them.” Rarity brought a hoof to Tempest’s chin and lifted her head up. A soft smile filled the fashionista’s face. “Are you the same pony you were a year ago?” she asked. Tempest smiled. “No.” She stood up straight. “But I know who I am now.” Rarity pointed to the crowd outside, which had started chanting Tempest’s name. “And I think they know that now, too.” Tempest strode forward and clasped Rarity upon the shoulder. “Then let’s show them Tempest Shadow.” “A wonderful pony,” Rarity said, looping her front leg around Tempest’s neck. Tempest looped her own leg around Rarity’s neck. “With a wonderful, fashionable friend.” Rarity giggled. “Keep up the flattery, and I may have to make you the face of my spring line.” “You know what? I wouldn’t mind that.” The two friends grinned at each other as they walked onstage, and the crowd cheered when they saw their beaming faces. Author's Note I wanted to make the ending more bombastic, with a long drawn-out speech of Tempest saying what she learned, but I realized a quick thank you to Rarity said so much more than a long speech.
A PropositionNopony gave the dark-coated unicorn a second glance when she stepped off the train. The cold weather made her hood and cloak seem like a natural fit, and her relaxed walking did not betray her own nervousness. Besides, plenty of other ponies were flooding into Canterlot for the Hearth’s Warming festivities, making her just another face in the ever-burgeoning crowd. So nopony bothered her as she made her way deeper into Canterlot, towards the heart of the fashion district. Tempest Shadow certainly hadn’t expected to return to the city she’d conquered just a few months before. Winding her way through the streets, she found little sign of damage from the Storm King’s forces. Only holiday wreathes with red bows and multi-colored lights hanging from the windowsills provided any notable difference to Canterlot’s bustling streets, and the crowd around her shuffled through the snow with little regard for anypony else. How many of these ponies would scream if I brought my hood down? Tempest pondered, sidestepping a group of colts laughing and running down the street. Would the Royal Guard be called? Princess Twilight pardoned me, but a few might still have a grudge and- No, none of that, she chided herself. Focusing too much on the past was what got her into the Storm King’s service. She needed to follow Princess Twilight’s advice, focusing more on the present and doing what she could to spread friendship to others. In fact, that was the reason she was in Canterlot to begin with. A week ago, while Tempest was in the Crystal Empire, a letter came from Canterlot Carousel, a fashion boutique in Canterlot. The sender was Rarity, one of Princess Twilight’s closest friends, who’d asked for Tempest’s help with “a most unusual problem”. The fashionista’s letter had been rather vague, all things considered, with only a plea that Tempest be in Canterlot by Hearth’s Warming Eve. The letter’s mysterious nature proved too much for Tempest to resist. Always pushing herself to be better had been her life goal after the Ursa Minor hurt her all those years ago, and the promise of some strange adventure provoked the conquering spirit she’d gained over the years. The conquest would likely be a minor, relatively trifling problem; probably some dispute with a rival fashion pony or an infestation of fabric-eating moths, but still something she could sink her teeth into and help somepony in a small way. Fortunately, Canterlot Carousel was not hard to find. Once within the fashion district, with its gaudy buildings and windows lined with the latest dresses, every street corner within the district listed all the top fashion houses and directions to them. Canterlot Carousel was always featured near the top. Twilight had mentioned the store opened only 2 years ago, so Rarity had obviously made a splash in the fashion world rather quickly. A passionate and determined mare, Tempest thought, kicking up snow with each step. Respectable. Admirable, even. Soon, the boutique came into view. A wide, circular building, the place’s purple coloring stood out in the whited-out capital. Her hooves clopping up the stone steps, Tempest pulled the door open and stepped inside. A wide showroom stretched before Tempest. The dull blue-grey floor contrasted with the thick curtains that glowed a dark purple and stretched across both stories of the building. A circular stage filled the far wall of the first floor, and wide windows filled the room with soft daylight. Winding stairs led up to the second floor, where racks of clothes hung unmoving. The faint sound of a sewing machine echoed from the upper floor. “Hello?” Tempest called, pulling her hood off. “Rarity? Are you h-?” Pop! A brilliant flash filled the store, and Tempest instinctively leaped into an defensive pose. Adrenaline pumped throughout her body, ready for the attack that must be happening. A blast of fireworks, or a lightning spell, or- An excited fashionista. Standing before Tempest was a white mare with a curled purple mane. An ear-to-ear grin filled her face. “Oh Tempest, darling!” she squealed, wrapping the unicorn in a hard hug. “I’m so glad you made it!” Tempest did not move, only staring down at the mare in confusion. Any attempt to move was foiled by the unicorn’s iron grasp. “Hello, Rarity,” Tempest wheezed. “I got your letter and-“ “Yes, you did!” She released Tempest and began to prance around her. “And now it will all be perfect! I’ll be a shoe-in for the fashion show!” “What do you-?” “First, we have to do measurements! Then, a practice walk!” She twisted to Tempest. “Have you any modeling experience?” A flush of red filled Tempest’s face. “Well, no, I-“ “Oh, that’s not important, darling! I’ll play tutor and show you how to walk. It’ll be fine. With your fabulous physique and my passion, you’ll look like you walked out of a cosmopolitan magazine!” “Wait, I’m-“ “But I’ll have to be quick. Sassy’s putting the final touches on the last batch, and I’ll need to smooth over the-“ “Rarity!” Tempest hollered, her voice echoing through the store. The fashionista stared at her in shock. “What is going on here?” Rarity stared at her in confusion. “Whatever do you mean, darling? You got my letter, didn’t you?” “Yes,” Tempest said, “and all it said was that you had a ‘most unusual problem’ you needed me to solve at your Canterlot boutique.” A frown filled Rarity’s face. “I’m sure I said more than that.” Tempest shook her head. “Perhaps you wrote the letter too fast and only put a few thoughts on it. You were probably too busy with…whatever this is you have going on.” Rarity sighed. “Yes, I suppose I’m prone to such lapses. In that case, the bluntest explanation is most appropriate.” At this, she grabbed Tempest and pulled her in close to her face. “Tempest, I need you to model in tomorrow’s fashion show.” “What?!” Tempest stumbled backwards, landing on her flank. “The Hearth’s Warming Fashion Show! It’s held every year here in Canterlot, where only the top fashion makers can submit. This is the first year I’ve been allowed in, so I was required to host the show. And I needed something spectacular, something completely amazing to prove I deserved a spot. “So I began thinking of themes for my next dress line. The usual concepts came and went, and I was struggling to think of anything as the deadline closed in. But I’m a mare who thrives on pressure, Tempest, and the heat just made me cook up an incredible idea. Perhaps the dresses should not be the safe output for mares with too much money. Maybe…” Her eyes seemed to light up. “…Maybe the theme should be for mares of action. Amazons who could fight and kick like no other. Fighters who could wrestle the toughest stallion to the ground and eat nails for breakfast!” She pointed at Tempest, still sitting dumbfounded on the ground. “And I knew you needed to be the face of my line! No mare in recent memory has so befitted the title of ‘Mare of Action’, fighting with her bare hooves and possessing the keen craftiness of a warrior. Any average model wearing what I’ve made would look silly, unappealing. A tiny mouse pretending to be a mighty lion. But on you, the piece would be magnificent! Nopony in Canterlot would be able to deny the artistic value of the fashion!” She stretched her hoof out to Tempest. “So what do you say? Are you ready to become Equestria’s Next Top Model?” Tempest blinked, her jaw still open. “You brought me here…to be in a fashion show?” “Yes, that’s what I just said!” Tempest shot up. “I thought you were in some kind of dispute! Some horrible danger that would destroy your boutique!” “Oh, but I am, darling! Debuting with lackluster models would be the death knell of any self-respecting fashion head!” “I mean something vicious, violent! Like a runaway animal or some criminal threatening you!” A full-throated laugh escaped Rarity. “Goodness gracious, Tempest! This is a fashion house, not a jungle! The only dangers here are losing your reputation or purchasing an overpriced gown.” Tempest huffed. “Then I don’t think you need my help here.” She turned toward the door, only to find her rear hooves wrapped up. Looking down, she saw Rarity wrapped around her back legs. “Please, Tempest!” Rarity cried with pleading eyes. “My line was specifically created with you in mind! Without you, it’ll be a joke!” “What do you mean, ‘for me’? Last I heard, I wasn’t too popular in Canterlot.” “Oh, you’re as popular as typhoid around here, dear!” Rarity chirped. “But that’s precisely why you’d work so well! Imagine! The former Conqueror of Canterlot, transmogrified from an oppressor to an icon of beauty! Yes, they may hate you, even tear their manes out the second they see you on that runway! But they’ll be unable to deny the daring of choosing you as the model, and project those feelings onto the dress itself!” Her body shook in ecstatic glee. “It’s sure to be the talk of the town! Pure shock value transmogrified into fashionable sensation!” Tempest rolled her eyes. “There are plenty of tough-looking mares out there in the streets. Walk up to one, pay her a couple of bits, and she can wear your dress.” “No!” Rarity screamed. “I can’t go searching all of Canterlot for some tall, well-built mare! By the time I found one, I wouldn’t be able to set up for the show!” She wrapped her hooves harder around Tempest’s legs. “And you’re already here! I’d just need to take a few measurements to fit the dress, give you a little talk through on how to walk the runway, and then all is done!” Tempest began shaking her legs free. “I’m not a fashion mare, Rarity, but even I know a war pony can’t become a model overnight.” “Why not?” Rarity said, her hooves still grasping for Tempest’s now-free legs. “You’re a mare of many talents. A fashion runway would be filly’s play for you.” “Maybe I don’t want to be a model. I certainly didn’t come here for that.” “Expand your horizons! Leap into the unknown world of fashion with gumption and passion, and you’ll be rewarded in some way!” “No thanks,” Tempest said, reaching for the door. “I’ve had my horizons expanded plenty over the last few months.” “Please, Tempest!” Rarity whined. “I’ll be a complete joke in Canterlot if you don’t perform! I’ll be run out of town on a rail! I’ll be banished from Equestria!” Tempest looked back at her, a single eyebrow raised. Rarity gave a sheepish grin. “Alright, maybe not that last one. But still! I need you, Tempest. And I’m willing to help you in any way I can if you help me.” “Such as?” “Any dress you want from my collection! A weekend in Las Pegasus! A year’s worth of massages from the Ponyville Spa! Anything, anything, darling! Tempest rubbed her chin, then gave a devilish smile. “Half the profits from whatever Mare of Action dresses you sell.” “Done!” “Wha-?” Tempest’s face filled with shock. “You’re…you’re not curious why I want that?” Rarity shrugged. “To live on, I suppose. A wanderer like you probably lacks a steady income, and with this, you wouldn’t have to worry about funds impeding your journey around the world.” “That’s…actually correct.” “Great! Then we can get started!” “I must admit, I thought you’d bargain more.” “No time for that!” Rarity hollered, grabbing Tempest’s hoof and dragging her upstairs. “I can bemoan my lost profits after you’ve been measured and lit the Canterlot fashion scene on fire!” Tempest gave a low chuckle. “Maybe the fashion world is more cutthroat than the military…” Author's Note There was originally an opening section that showed Tempest coming into Canterlot on a train, but I cut it because it was more exposition than action. Also, Tempest being in the Crystal Empire is a reference to the IDW comics, where Tempest had an adventure there in Issues 67 and 68.
Model Student“One, two, three, step! One, two, three, step!” Tempest rolled her eyes as Rarity barked the orders. The former soldier stepped in time with the commands, strolling across the boutique’s floor with precision. Yet Rarity’s face belied no approval of her gait. “You’re stepping too fast,” Rarity huffed. “You need to bring your front hooves up higher, so your legs flash more often.” “I’m stepping in time,” Tempest said, her voice even. “In time, but not on time. Do it again.” Tempest sighed and strolled back to the opposite side of the boutique. The last three hours had been a bizarre mish-mash of events. First, Rarity had taken Tempest upstairs to measure the unicorn’s body. To her delight, her mental estimations of Tempest’s figure were near perfect, requiring only the subtlest of adjustments to make it fit perfectly. The dress itself was a fascinating mix of black fabric and tanned leather, both hugging Tempest’s body while the thin skirt draped off her flank. She had to admit the piece fit the theme; she could see an ancient Amazon wearing the dress into battle. After that, Rarity began coaching Tempest on how to walk like a model. Tempest had expected this to be a trifling affair, a simple half-hour lesson about how to look pretty and smile. She’d done her fair share of military rallies in service of the Storm King, so she knew this would be a walk in the park. Come the first hour’s conclusion, however, Tempest realized this would be no easy task. The eye for detail Rarity brought to her dresses remained constant even in her coaching, with each and every mistake Tempest made being pointed out the second Rarity spotted it. Every part of Tempest’s body, from her face to her hips, seemed to be part of the exercise, and Rarity would not rest until every single element was in perfect unity. By the time Tempest reached the boutique’s far side, the unmistakable exhaustion of the exercises was clear upon her face. “Look determined, not tired,” Rarity called out. “We need emotion, but not too much. An Amazon is stoic in war, and the runway shall be our battlefield.” Tempest shook her head. “Have you even been in a real battle?” “Yes, actually. Back when the Changelings invaded. And I know how to drill obstinacy out of soldiers, Commander.” There was a firmness to the word that surprised Tempest, but her disconcertion soon left her and she steadied herself for another stroll. “One, two, three, step!” Rarity called out, and Tempest began the practice walk again. Once more standing before Rarity, a disapproving nod came from the fashionista. “Your timing is better, but your shoulders are too stiff. They’re supposed to move in rhythm with your front legs. Hold them too tight, and your front legs won’t move as smoothly.” She waved her hoof. “Do it again.” Tempest sighed and trotted back to the far wall. “Half the profits is looking less and less good now.” “No distractions!” Rarity called. “Focus only on your walk, then you can bemoan life’s troubles later!” Tempest turned, steadying herself once more. “One, two, three, step!” Rarity called out. Each step rang out upon the hard floor. Up, down, up, down, the rhythm perfect and unyielding. Rarity’s hollered words and the hoofsteps matched in tandem all the way across the floor. The strange cacophony of noise should’ve been chaos, but the precision of their timing made the sound more pleasing to the ear than they had any right to be. Tempest could not hold back her soft smile as she stopped in front of Rarity. Her timing was impeccable, her body in time with her hooves, her – “You got too haughty toward the end,” Rarity said, head shaking. “Models must have passion, but not arrogance. Keep your face set and knock off those smug little grins.” She pointed at Tempest’s hooves. “And you were lifting your hooves too high that time. They should go up above your barrel, but not above your chest.” Tempest closed her eyes and sighed. “And keep your eyes open too. None of this squinting business. Eyes are the window to the soul, so the audience needs to see them as wide open as possible.” “I…” Tempest rolled a hoof through her hair. “Rarity, why can’t I just walk like myself?” “Because that’s not how models walk, Tempest.” “But you wanted a Mare of Action, right? Somepony who could walk like a tough fighter? Well, that’s how I walk.” She squinted her eyes and marched in a circle, her front hooves going up all the way to her chest. A proud face filled her visage as she gazed around the shop, like she was a queen surveying her kingdom. With a sudden stop, she turned and faced Rarity. Rarity shook her head. “It’s a lovely walk, darling. But it’s not what will fit in a fashion show.” “And this hokum you’re teaching me will? It’s fake! Nopony walks like that in real life.” “Of course not. It’s exaggerated, but exquisite. Ponies can see what a dress looks like and how a mare wears it. A model’s job is to add their own touch, while not distracting from the dress itself.” “I can add my own touch,” Tempest huffed. “Just let me walk like I normally walk.” Rarity shook her head. “Your natural walk denotes precision, but not humility. You’re used to having ponies notice you wherever you go, so restraining yourself on that account will denote a discipline in your manner.” Tempest shook her head. “You shouldn’t be lecturing a former military commander on discipline.” “Well, I am. And you’ll need it if you’re to impress the Canterlot fashion scene.” “Who I don’t care about,” Tempest grumbled. “Do you care about yourself, then? How ponies see you?” Tempest sighed. “You know I do.” Her eyes lit up. “In fact, that’s why I should walk like myself. My walk is a part of me, and changing it would lie about who I am. You wanted me for my authenticity to the theme, right? Then I should be myself!” Rarity leaned her head back, deep in thought. Then, a wry smile came across her face. “Alright then, Tempest,” she said in a relaxed tone. “You want to walk as yourself? Then answer this single question.” “Shoot.” “Who are you?” Confusion filled Tempest’s face. “I’m…I’m Tempest Shadow.” “Alright. Who is that?” “Me,” she huffed. “No, I mean who is that? What makes up Tempest? What are her desires and fears?” Tempest rolled her eyes. “You’re not trying to get me into philosophy too, are you?” “No, I’m simply asking you to say who you are.” “Why?” “Because you have to know yourself before you can explain it to anypony else. Tell me who you are as a pony and how your walk shows who you are. Then you can walk however you want on my runway.” “Alright then…I’m a former military commander.” Rarity shook her head. “Pure biography. Say something of substance.” Tempest shrugged. “I…like apricots.” “So do many school-fillies. Doesn’t tell me anything notable about Tempest Shadow.” The unicorn threw her hooves up in the air. “Then I guess I’m nopony at all!” Rarity shook her head. “No. You’re somepony, Tempest. You just don’t know who.” “Yes I d-“ “Did you think you’d be here a year ago?” “What?” “Did you think you’d be here, in Canterlot, among ponies again and learning how to model?” “Of course not.” “Did you think you would be traveling the world on your own volition, or did you expect to serve the Storm King for the rest of your life?” Tempest sighed. “You already know the answer.” “And would you say that your whole life changed the day Twilight saved you, despite everything you did?” “…Yes.” “Then how would you know who you are just a few months after that? Do you think your past self would recognize the mare you became, even if it was for the better? Could you even be called the same pony as her?” Tempest said nothing, with only the crunching steps of ponies on the snow-laden street outside making any noise through the boutique. Rarity put a hoof on Tempest’s shoulder. “I don’t say this to upset you, Tempest. Only to make a point. You are a good pony now, I have no doubt, and I thank you so much for doing this fashion show for me. But I want you to see my perspective, not be cast off as an obsessive creative who pulls opinions and critiques out of her flank. And…And I want you to know who you are too, so that when this is all over, you can hold your head up high and not live your life in shame anymore.” A soft laugh came from Tempest. “Twilight put you up to this, didn’t she?” Rarity smiled. “No, but she’d probably appreciate my method.” Tempest sighed. “Well, alright then. Let’s keep practicing and see if I can become myself, if not a model.” Rarity beamed. “Now that’s the determination I’d expect from a military mare.” Author's Note It was important to show Rarity as teacher in this part. Tempest's worldview really was shook when the Storm King betrayed her, so she really needed somepony to show her who she could be.
Walk the WalkOnce Rarity’s walking lessons had ended, the unicorn had set about transforming her boutique into a suitable auditorium. Lights were hung from the tall ceiling, both traditional Hearth’s Warming decorative bulbs and strong spotlights that could illuminate the stage below. Then came the runway, brought out in pieces and connected to make the long walkway. A simple roll of fabric atop the platform hid its fragmentary nature. A set of chairs and benches soon came out to surround the stage and runway. Tempest helped Rarity with the endeavor, both silent save for directions about the positions of the stagecraft. Perhaps the fashionista recognized the toil of the day would allow no idle chit-chat, or that her lessons had exhausted Tempest. However, Tempest could tell by the constantly shifting eyes and the manic dashes between the chairs that Rarity was nervous. Too much leaned on this fashion show, and the unicorn knew she could not falter if her reputation was to remain intact. Thus, Tempest did not push her for more information throughout the rest of the day, and quietly departed after the final chair was set. “Be here tomorrow at noon sharp!” Rarity called out as Tempest stepped toward the door. “We’ll go over a few more things before the other models show up!” And so Tempest did, arriving five minutes early on Hearth’s Warming Day. To her surprise, Rarity did not demand any more walking exercises, but instead more measurements. Ever the perfectionist, Rarity would not be satisfied by the previous day’s fitting, and dragged Tempest to the first floor’s backroom to do one last check of the outfit. Every single inch of Tempest’s body was examined, every limb’s proportion carefully calculated. Tempest almost wanted to laugh at the fashionista’s devotion to the miniscule adjustments, but she begat no merriment at the scene. Hate to admit it, Tempest thought, but her passion for these dresses is starting to rub off on me. Precision is the province of both military mares and fashion designers. It was just as the final adjustment was made that the other models started coming into the boutique. Rarity dashed over to them, her directions and instructions pouring out with rapidity. Yet the mares, all lovely and prim, did not show any confusion over the fashionista’s commands, instead quickly filing upstairs to the fitting rooms to prepare themselves. Still in the backroom, none saw Tempest peeking out at them. The other fashion moguls of Canterlot filed in soon afterwards, their luxury coats and designer hats being quickly given to the hat mares milling about the front door, who immediately brushed the newly fallen snow off the garments. The benches and chairs filled up quickly, and there was not a single empty space within a half hour. Indeed, a fair number of the participants found themselves standing toward the back, annoyed but still focused upon the stage in anticipation of the show. None of the audience saw Tempest make her way from the backroom to behind the stage’s curtain. The hustle and bustle of the show distracted all eyes and made the unicorn just another face in the crowd. Even her fellow models, pressed into the limited space of the stage’s sides, did not react to Tempest at all. Likely the darkness of backstage and the tension in perfecting their own strolls down the runway kept their eyes from the broken horn upon her head. Indeed, Tempest found herself pondering her own walk. Rarity’s directions echoed in her mind like an army slogan: steps below the chest and above the barrel, face firm but not passionless, the whole body in motion, legs never stiff. Tempest shuffled in place, trying her best to emulate the walk in the crowded space. The motions came easily, but the unmistakable look of nervousness filled her face. “Don’t worry, darling,” Rarity’s voice whispered. Tempest turned to find her standing beside her. “Just do as we practiced, and you’ll be fine.” Tempest chuckled. “And if I’m not, I’ll just kick every critic in the audience.” “That’s the spirit! Stay loose, and you’ll find your rhythm.” “Rarity!” a voice called. “We need a quick tie-off for Petunia’s dress!” “Fiddlesticks!” Rarity gave a comforting pat on Tempest’s back. “Break a leg, or maybe two!” She then whisked off toward the voice. Five minutes later, the show had started. Bland techno music started to pulsate through the boutique, and the first model began her walk. Tempest, huddled behind the curtain, could not see the audience nor the models as they strutted, but she could gauge the reaction based on the frequency of the crowd’s mutterings. The faster and louder the mumbles, the more approval a dress had. Utter silence was the sign the displayed dress was a total turkey. The few models unfortunate to gain the crowd’s disdain returned backstage with dismayed expressions. Tempest shuffled in place. She was to be the last model, the coup de grace as Rarity called her. Her surprise appearance was meant to be a stunt, a shock against the gathered fashion heads’ comfort in the typical winter fashion show. From an artistic perspective, the choice made sense. For Tempest, however, the feeling was more akin to a prisoner last in line for execution. There was no anticipation or excitement for her, only a grim readiness for catastrophe. At best, the audience would be disgusted by the mare and file out in droves, emptying the boutique before Tempest even finished her walk. At worst, a pony might jump upon Tempest and start a fight that’d snowball into an outright riot. These ponies, Tempest mused, take their fashion seriously. Seeing me in their domain might drive them to madness. Ever the planner, a million terrible scenarios played in Tempest’s head as each model made their way down the stage. Each possible disaster played in the former commander’s head, to the point that it was a shock when the stage director called out, “Fizzlepop! You’re up next!” Tempest laughed. Of course Rarity registered me under my birth name. Hides my surprise appearance. She strode forward to the opening in the curtain, staying just out of the light that streamed through. The steps of the second-to-last model grew louder and louder as she finished her walk. Her shadow started to fill the open space. Three seconds to destruction, Tempest mused. The calm before the storm. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. No, she couldn’t have such thoughts. There was no room for doubt, for worry. Every campaign she’d fought had been with a cool mind and determined action. She would stroll out there, displaying Rarity’s Mare of Action dress, then walk back. The world would not end, the city of Canterlot would not burn, and Tempest would be back to her travels in no time. And, on the off chance the fashion district chased Rarity out of town, Tempest would help her pack. The model, a pure white mare with a lily-colored mane, strolled past Tempest. Her face was bland and unreadable. “Go!” the stage manager called. With controlled precision, Tempest stepped into the opening and walked out onto the runway. The first thing she heard were the shocked gasps. Her eyes did not deviate from looking straight ahead to the runway’s end; Rarity’s training had grilled into her the need for the eyes to never move. Yet she still heard the surprised cries and fearful mumblings from the audience surrounding her. “Ooooh!” one mare cried out, fainting to the floor. Tempest’s every instinct told her to run backstage, or make a bolt for the front door. These ponies were shocked now, but in a moment, their eyes would fill with rage and they’d rush the stage, ready to tear her to pieces. She couldn’t fight all them off bare-hooved, despite her training, and she didn’t have the heart to start blasting the wretches with her destructive magical blasts. No, she needed to escape, she needed to- A sharp breath filled her lungs. Keep to the march, soldier, she thought, her steps still echoing through the boutique. Do not break, no matter what the enemy is throwing at you. Keep going until Tartarus freezes over. And so her walk continued. Her steps were high, but not above the chest. A firm expression filled her face, and her eyes stared ahead, with only the faintest squint. Clop, clop, clop, her hooves made upon the runway, in time with the music which blared on. Reaching the runway’s end, Tempest struck a pose. One hoof lifted and the others planted into the platform, she cast a commanding gaze over the crowd. The murmurs died as the audience took in the strange mare, decked in her darksome fabric and leather garb, and silence ruled over the crowd. Turning on her heel, Tempest started walking back to the curtain. Each step seemed louder than the next, but her rhythm never changed. She could feel the herd’s eyes taking in the skirt of the dress and the swaying of her body with each step. All eyes were upon her, for better or for worse, and none left her until she disappeared into the blackness behind the curtain. The musical track blaring throughout the show came to an end. No words echoed throughout the boutique. Tempest gave a mirthless chuckle. Well, silent hatred is better than physical assault. I guess I'll- A fantastic roar went out through the crowd. Applause dominated the cacophony, with approving shouts coming out from different voices around the room. In the same moment, Tempest found herself being swarmed by the other models. “You were fantastic!” the lily-maned white mare said. “Absolutely fantastic!” “Yes!” a golden colored mare cheered. “Professional on every level, yet steeped in individual experience!” “Teach me your walking ways, Commander!” a black-maned mare cried out. “Thanks?” Tempest said, trying not to be crushed by her new fan club. Jostled closer and closer toward the curtain, Tempest heard the crowd’s whoops slowly transform into legible words. “A fascinating choice,” a stallion’s voice intoned close to the stage. “Taking a persona associated with Equestria’s destruction and turning her into a beacon of action.” “Yes!” a mare responded. “I thought perhaps they were relying too much on shock value, but Tempest’s walk and pose denoted a latent talent in presentational awareness!” “She certainly fit the mold of the dress’s theme,” the stallion continued. “And nopony could doubt her credentials as a ‘Mare of Action’.” “I’m certainly inspired by her!” the mare squeaked. A strange sensation filled Tempest’s being. The shock started filtering out into puzzlement, the compliments of her fellow models and the audience starting to blur together in her ears. They…liked me? It seemed too much like a dream. She was about to ask somepony to pinch her when a ball of white threw a hug around Tempest’s neck. “You did it, darling!” Rarity cheered, squeezing Tempest tight. “You’re the toast of Canterlot’s Fashion Row!” “I...How…” Tempest sputtered. “What did I do?” Rarity broke her hug and looked dead into Tempest’s eyes. “You were yourself, Tempest! You walked like a proper model, but you also infused your own self into your walk. Powerful and precise, with a professional bent!” She gestured toward the open curtain. “You made a variation on a formula, and they saw it! Not just saw it, but understood it!” Tempest rubbed the back of her head. “That’s great, because I sure don’t understand.” “Oh, you needn’t worry about the aesthetical elements, dear! Just bask in your glory! Come, come, they want to see you again!” She was dragging Tempest toward the open curtain, the applause still echoing through the boutique. “Wait, Rarity!” Tempest called. “Don’t get stage fright now, Tempest! We need to-“ Rarity felt herself jerked back. Before a shout could escape her, she found herself clutched in a bear hug. Surprise filled her face, before the grip released and Tempest stared down at her. “Thank you, Rarity,” Tempest said, eyes glimmering. “For what, darling?” “For making me do this. I…I thought every Canterlot pony would hate me for as long as they lived. Because…” Her head started to hang. “…Because I would’ve hated anypony who did what I did to them.” Rarity brought a hoof to Tempest’s chin and lifted her head up. A soft smile filled the fashionista’s face. “Are you the same pony you were a year ago?” she asked. Tempest smiled. “No.” She stood up straight. “But I know who I am now.” Rarity pointed to the crowd outside, which had started chanting Tempest’s name. “And I think they know that now, too.” Tempest strode forward and clasped Rarity upon the shoulder. “Then let’s show them Tempest Shadow.” “A wonderful pony,” Rarity said, looping her front leg around Tempest’s neck. Tempest looped her own leg around Rarity’s neck. “With a wonderful, fashionable friend.” Rarity giggled. “Keep up the flattery, and I may have to make you the face of my spring line.” “You know what? I wouldn’t mind that.” The two friends grinned at each other as they walked onstage, and the crowd cheered when they saw their beaming faces. Author's Note I wanted to make the ending more bombastic, with a long drawn-out speech of Tempest saying what she learned, but I realized a quick thank you to Rarity said so much more than a long speech.
