The needle clicked up and down gently through the fabric. She leaned her hoof down harder into the pedal and the needle sped up, whirring through the yellow cloth as she pressed the hem in place. She hummed a tune as she worked. This dress would be perfect for Summer Daze, a simple design that would not overshadow the inherent elegance of the young mare. Rarity sighed. Summer was quite beautiful.
The machine clicked and whirred, and Rarity came to the edge of the hem. She folded it in carefully and, squinting with concentration, magicked a needle and thread out from the pincushion. With deft movements, she sewed the seam shut and tied the end of the thread tight. This done, she lifted it up and onto a mannequin, where it settled neatly, the ruffles in the train falling exactly where she wanted them to. Rarity gave a huff and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. She would have to brush it into place again soon, but for now, she was content to admire her hoofwork. The years had only enhanced her skill with the fabric, if she did say so herself. And she did.
This particular piece was almost done, only requiring some work around the forelegs and some light patterning at the neckline, but a half-dozen other projects in various stages of completion stretched themselves around the room. Her new inspiration room wasn't as large as the old had been. Since she had redesigned Carousel Boutique, much of the old space had been given over to her assistants, leaving a small room for Rarity to work in. That was mainly by choice, though. Rarity trotted over to another mannequin with several pieces of cloth draped over it, a gown she was designing for Cloudwing’s first gala. The pony had been so happy, so eager to attend the ball, when she had come into Carousel Boutique and commissioned the dress that Rarity had taken on the entire job herself. Normally, she just designed the dress and let one of her three apprentices actually put it together - she had far too much business to do everything herself now - but she still kept her hooves full with as many projects as she could. Seven was a good number, and the size of the inspiration room limited her to that.
But it was getting late. Already, the sun was going down, casting long shadows through the boutique’s window. Rarity had an appointment, dinner with Sweetie Belle, who was back in town for the first time since the Royal Canterlot Opera began its tour of Equestria. Sweetie Belle wasn’t the lead, but she had a very good role with plenty of opportunity to let her voice be heard. Rarity had seen the opening performance, and it was quite good. But there would be time to talk about that over dinner. Rarity bustled around the room, quietly making sure everything was in order, or in disorder, as appropriate. She came across the note Twilight had sent her a few days ago and realized she had not yet replied. She also needed to remember to get Twilight a gift, with her birthday so close. Pinkie Pie was in the midst of planning a surprise party for the mare, too.
Rarity lifted the levitated the note up to her face and read it briefly again. Why, Twilight's birthday was just two days away! She would have to put something together right away. A new robe would be perfect, Rarity thought, and she had just begun to pull out pieces of colored fabric when the bell above the entrance rang in the main display area of the shop. “Coming!” Rarity called. She put down the cloth and hastily patted her mane into some semblance of its proper shape, then hurried into the other room.
“Hello,” said Rarity, “and welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every garment is-”
“Chic, unique, and magnifique. I’ve heard it before, sis.” That low, dulcet voice, like the tolling of a large, golden bell, floated over to her. Rarity recognized it at once.
“Oh, Sweetie Belle! My darling!” The air of culture Rarity cultivated for every new client dropped, and she rushed to her sister, sweeping the young mare up in a strong embrace. “I haven’t seen you in ages!” she said as she squeezed the pony. Sweetie Belle giggled and returned the hug. After a moment, Rarity released her and said, “So how have you been? How was the trip? You must tell me absolutely everything!”
Sweetie Belle grinned, her eyes lighting up as she recalled the tour. “It was amazing. You have to go to Hoofington sometime! It’s so pretty there. And, well, I’ll tell you everything over dinner.” She eyed her sister, who was still wearing her glasses and a measuring tape around her neck. “Are you ready to go?”
Rarity noticed her sister’s gaze and gasped. “Oh, good heavens, no! I need to simply, ah hah, ‘freshen up,’ as it were. Give me a moment, and I will be all set!” Rarity trotted into the back room and took off the glasses and the measuring tape. Entering the bathroom, she levitated a brush off the stand next to the sink. Looking in the mirror, she began to brush her hair back into the glorious curls she worked so hard on every morning. A disheveled mare looked back at her, working at the purple hair with practiced skill. It was tiresome, at times, to do her hair over and over, but you never knew who you might bump into.
The sun winked out finally, and Ponyville was dark. There were street lamps, and of course the lights of houses, but nothing near this side of Carousel Boutique. The little square window in the white tile bathroom was black, with just the low illumination of the fluorescent bulb to light up the room. “Rarity.” She stopped brushing and turned to the doorway. There was nopony there.
“Sweetie Belle, dear, I’ll be out in a minute,” Rarity called to her sister. There was no answer except the faint clattering of hooves on the street in front of the boutique. “Sweetie Belle!” Rarity said again, louder this time. “Did you call me?”
“No!” Sweetie Belle said. “Just hurry it up, or we’ll miss our reservation!”
“Rarity.” That voice again. This time, Rarity was sure she had heard somepony say her name.
“Who’s there?” Rarity said. She took a cautious step out of the bathroom and looked around the inspiration room. Mannequins stood littered around the room, but there was nopony that could have said her name. Rarity shook her head to clear it, then stopped, careful of her newly restyled coiffure. “You must be working too hard, Rarity, my dear,” she said to herself.
“Rarity.” The voice was in her ear, soft and earthy, its dry tone little more than a whisper in the empty room. She jerked her head towards the sound, but again, nothing and no one.
“You come out right now!” Rarity stomped a hoof on the ground in frustration. “Show yourself!”
The light in the inspiration room went out. Rarity stood, blinking in the darkness, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the change in the light. In the shadows, she thought she could see figures moving, shifting and curling over the walls and behind tables and bolts of cloth. “Generous Rarity,” the voice said, and it lapsed into a dusty whine.
With a thought, Rarity pushed magic into her horn, and light poured out of it, banishing the shadows and darkness. In the corner, there, had she seen something move? Or was it on the shelf by the sewing machine? She moved to look closer, but then her horn fizzled and went out, like bubbles bursting in a champagne glass. Rarity’s heart was pounding; she could feel it in her breast, beating madly away. In the darkness, something brushed up against her, something cold, frozen, and yet soft, like velvet, or fur. She tried to jump, to gallop away as fast as she could, but she stood rooted to the spot, unable to move for fear or magic, she wasn’t sure which.
“Generous, generous Rarity.” The thing, the voice, whatever it was, was circling her, staring at her, she knew. “I am waiting for you. Be mine.”
Struggling, Rarity managed to unstick her tongue and say, “I will do no such thing. I de-demand you leave me at once!” She put on as brave a face as she could, but the quiver in her voice betrayed her true state.
“Be mine,” the voice repeated. “You belong with me, generous-”
“Rarity!” The door banged open and light spilled in from the main area of the shop, bright, harsh, electric light. Rarity collapsed on the floor, her legs having given out. Sweetie Belle flicked the light switch off and back on with a hoof, and the inspiration room was bright again. She looked down at her sister on the floor and said, “Are you okay?”
Rarity felt her pulse slow back down to its normal pace, and she stood up as gracefully as she could. She patted her mane down and said, “Ye-yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” She glanced nervously around the room, but, as before, there was nopony there. She looked back at her sister. “I just had a bit of a scare, is all. Ahem, nothing to worry about.” Sweetie Belle looked at her disbelievingly, but Rarity grinned as widely as she could, and Sweetie Belle nodded.
“If you say so. Let’s go, I’m starving!” She turned and walked out of the inspiration room. Rarity gave it one last check, and then turned out the light.
“I am coming, dear,” Rarity said. She took a step forward, and her horn sparked to life of its own accord. Dazzling blue light filled the room as magic coursed through the spiral fluting, the force of it driving Rarity to her knees. She cried out in pain as the magic spun through her head, blood pounding in her temples and her heartbeat quick and hard in her ears. Sweetie Belle was at her side, saying something, but Rarity couldn’t make out the words. Then Sweetie Belle’s face blurred and faded, replaced by images of a wall, a stone wall inscribed with symbols and pictures Rarity didn’t understand. The vision flickered, and she saw a mountain, scraping the sky with its jagged peak. Scenes began to pass by, a pony, dark blue with a short sky blue mane, a village, rustic, primitive, with wood walls and thatched roofs, a mare, gorgeous as the sunrise. Rarity closed her eyes to try to block out the sights, but they were in her mind, and there was nothing she could do to keep from seeing the snow, ice, the deep, brown earth and the tops of carrots in long, even rows. Rarity screamed.
And then, all at once, it was over. The images were gone, and the light in her horn dwindled and went out. Rarity opened her eyes and found herself staring Sweetie Belle right in her face, which was the very picture of concern for her sister. “Rarity!” Sweetie Belle said loudly. Rarity winced at the volume - her head still pained her - and Sweetie Belle noticed. “Rarity?” she said again, more quietly this time. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
With a grimace, Rarity shook her head. She tried to rise to her hooves, found the strain to be too great, and decided she might just lie on the floor for a little while longer. “No,” said Rarity. “I don’t need a doctor.”
“Raaa-rity,” Sweetie Belle said. “You just-”
“Sweetie Belle!” Rarity tried to act insulted. “Old as you are, I am still your big sister, and I say I do not need a doctor. I need to talk to Twilight Sparkle.”
The library was closed, its doors shut and windows shuttered. Rarity could see a flicker of light from underneath the door as she approached, and she reasoned that it wasn’t too late to come calling unannounced. She tapped her hoof on the door. The tree loomed large above her, easily twice the size it had been when Twilight first moved to Ponyville. No doubt housing such a powerful magician had triggered the surprising growth in the plant. Above her, wind rustled the branches, like the sound of a thousand pages turning. Fitting, she thought.
Sweetie Belle was back at her apartment. She understood the need to postpone their dinner, but had been less than thrilled when Rarity refused to let her come to visit Twilight Sparkle. Rarity would have to make it up to her soon, but now there were more important things to deal with. Horn magic didn’t happen without a reason, and those visions were still vivid and clear in Rarity’s memories. There was no answer from the library, so she knocked again, louder.
“Just a moment!” The door handle glowed purple, turned, and swung inward. “Come in, come in.” Rarity stepped inside, and the door shut behind her.
Carousel Boutique wasn’t the only building that had undergone some changes in recent years. The center of the trunk had been hollowed out, with an arched wooden ceiling several yards high. There was a ring of a second floor that went all the way around the room, with open space in the center that one could look down from above and see the entire room laid out beneath her. The main source of light was a large brick fireplace in the center of the far wall, where a fire burned, casting an orange glow over the shelves and shelves of books. Curled up in front of the fireplace, lying calmly enough that he might have been an enormous purple and green cat, was a lanky dragon. His growth had been much more sudden than that of the tree, sprouting up over the course of a few weeks, then tapering off again. While not yet at full size, Spike was already three times larger than an adult pony, his spines long and pointed, flaring out from his head and down his long, serpentine neck. He mumbled in his sleep, and a long, forked tongue flicked out, licked his lips, and went back into his mouth.
There was a clatter of hooves on iron, and Rarity turned to see Twilight descending a spiral staircase in the corner of the room. She wore the cape Rarity had designed for her when she was appointed Royal Court Magician, and its stars gleamed silver in the firelight. A broach at her neck, a purple amethyst in the shape of a six-pointed star, caught the light and reflected in into Twilight’s face, which seemed more haggard and exhaustion-lined than usual. Yet, when Twilight caught sight of Rarity standing confusedly at the entrance, she smiled broadly, her purple eyes dancing with vigor, and she trotted down the steps as fast as she could.
“Spike!” she said, prodding the dragon in the side. “Wake up! We have a guest.”
Spike yawned widely, revealing two rows of large teeth and a thick tongue, and blinked in the low light. Then he saw Rarity, and his eyes widened. “Rarity? I- what- mustache!” He jerked upright and tried to run, but, when he realized there was nowhere in the room large enough to hide him, he turned back to look at her and waved sheepishly. “Hi, Rarity,” he said.
Twilight crossed the room and put her neck next to Rarity’s, nuzzling her gently. Rarity returned the gesture, and then Twilight motioned for them to move further into the room. She levitated some cushions out from a cabinet and placed them on the floor in front of the fire. Spike budged left to make room for them, and Twilight and Rarity lay down on the pillows.
“We haven’t had a proper visit in ages!” Twilight said. “I was starting to get worried, too, when you didn’t respond to my letter. I was going to drop by tomorrow and see you.”
“I am sorry, my dear,” Rarity said, “but you did only send it two days ago. I simply hadn’t gotten around to answering it yet.”
“Yes, I imagine you must be quite busy, what with the Gala only a month away.” Twilight nodded at Spike, and he lumbered away, his footfalls shaking the ground with each step. He returned with a tray that held a teapot and cups. He placed the tray between Twilight and Rarity, who smiled up at him. He blushed fiercely, and backed away.
“Isn’t he quite the gentlecolt?” Rarity said. “Or, gentledragon, in this case.”
“Yes,” Twilight agreed. “he’s growing up quite wonderfully.” She admired the dragon for a moment, then turned back to Rarity. “So, what’s up with you? I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you. It’s been so busy in Canterlot lately. We’ve been working on a new spell, trying to connect deeper with the Elements of Harmony, and we just had a breakthrough yesterday. ”
“I gathered as much from your letter. The world of high-fashion is just as demanding, I can assure you. But I am not here to discuss my business.” Rarity shifted her weight, then checked behind her to make sure the doors to Twilight’s library were closed firmly. “I have a more, personal problem.”
Twilight gasped. “It’s not, Silky Smooth? Are you, you’re not, you know…” She let the question hang in the air, until Rarity understood.
“What?” she said, color running up her face. “No, no, nononono. Nothing like that.” She explained everything that had happened in the darkened studio, her friend listening with an ever-increasing look of confusion growing on her face. When Rarity finished her tale, Twilight rubbed her muzzle thoughtfully.
“From what you told me,” she said, “it sounds like you’ve seen a ghost,” Twilight stamped a hoof down, “but that’s crazy. There’s absolutely no scientific evidence for the existence of ghosts, ghouls, spirits, specters, haunts, apparitions, or any other kind of supernatural being.” She scratched her chin with a hoof. “Could you have an enemy, somepony who’s trying to scare you?”
Rarity thought about it, then shook her head. “I will say that there are those in the fashion industry who envy the success of one such as I, but this, barbaric display? I cannot believe that anypony would commit such an act.”
“Hmm. Well, you said that you saw a mountain, right? What did it look like?”
“It was tall,” Rarity said. She could see it in her mind perfectly, as though she were having the vision all over again. “And it had snow, but just on the top. Some trees, but no other mountains, at least as far as I could see.”
“Hmm,” Twilight said again. “From your description, it sounded like a burial site. Back in the Classical Era, ponies of great importance were usually buried in the mountains, up high. There’s several of them in Canterlot alone. But the mountain was by itself… Spiiiike!” Twilight called. The dragon stirred and snapped to attention. “Can you get me that book, Ancient Tombs-”
“Ancient Tombs of the Classical Era! Of course!” He rose and crossed the library to a specific shelf, from which he took a blue book that, from the cracked and weathered binding, appeared to be of great age. He brought it back to Twilight, the book toy-sized in his enormous claw.
“Thank you, Spike,” Twilight said as she enveloped the book with a purple glow and lowered it to her face.
“He still is your number one assistant, isn’t he?” Rarity said, watching the dragon. Spike’s scales turned bright red on his face, and he giggled. Twilight, immersed in her book did not even notice. The mare leafed through the pages, muttering to herself and scratching notes with paper and quill she had conjured out of nowhere. Rarity knew it would be useless to try to interrupt Twilight before she found what she was looking for, so she settled down into the cushions and took a few lady-like sips of tea. No matter how powerful Twilight became, or how much magic she knew, this much about the mare was never going to change. She would always be completely impervious to the world around her when she dove snout-first into a book like this. Rarity might have set off one of Pinkie Pie’s trademark party crackers in her ear, and Twilight would not so much as blink.
“Aha!” Twilight said finally, long after her forgotten tea had gone cold. Rarity was trying to draw dress ideas in the sketchbook she carried with her everywhere, but they ended up turning into cloaks and hoods and capes. At Twilight’s sudden exclamation, she put the charcoal down and stared expectantly at her friend. In the heat of the fire, Spike dozed, slight tendrils of smoke curling out of his nose and disappearing into the air. He’d given up trying to stay awake as the night dragged on. “I think I found the pony you heard.”
“Oh?” said Rarity.
“Yes. Given your description of the mountain, and from what I can tell about the symbols, I think it has to be the tomb of-”
--
“Clover the Clever?”
Twilight, bent over the inscriptions on the wall, nodded.
“The Clover the Clever?” Rarity repeated. “Adviser to Princess Platinum, founder of Equestria, and protege of Starswirl the Bearded, as you so liked to remind us? This is where that Clover the Clever is buried?”
“Yes,” said Twilight. She gave a huff of exasperation. “Now, can you give me more light, please?” Rarity obliged, moving closer to Twilight and bending her head, so her horn could shine more directly on the stone. The sky was overcast, so neither moon nor stars could shed any light on the stone writing. And there was quite a lot that needed to be read.
Rarity sighed and lifted an aching hoof. She shook it to return some of the blood flow, then set it back down. The journey had taken several hours, and since Spike hadn’t come with them (“Somepony needs to watch the library while I’m gone,” Twilight had insisted. It was funny, really. It hadn’t been a public library in five years.), Rarity had been forced to carry all her traveling necessities - sleeping bag, food, hair curlers, and the like. Finding the site was fairly easy, and now Twilight was sitting in front of it, surrounded by scraps of paper and books, and staring at words chiseled into the wall thirty hooves high.
Closer to her friend now, Rarity could tell from the way Twilight hung her head that the pony was tired. Rarity sat next to Twilight and nuzzled her gently. “You should get some rest,” she said. “You’ve been studying this for hours. It’s time we got our beauty sleep.”
Twilight sighed. “This is hard. A lot of the inscriptions are too eroded to read, and even for the ones that aren’t, my High Equestrian’s a little rusty.” She pointed at the largest symbols. “But this really is Clover the Clever’s tomb. There’s his name, and his cutie mark.” The word Twilight said was his name just seemed like a bunch of scratches in the stone to Rarity, but next to them was a star, blossoming out of a bundle of leaves.
“It’s all Griffon to me,” Rarity said, “so I’ll just take your word for it. But why would Clover the Clever be talking to me?”
Twilight began collecting the sheets of parchment. “I don’t know. Actually, for someone who’s so important to our history, surprisingly little is known about him.” She stood and shook life back into her legs. “I’ll ask the Princess what she thinks. Celestia knew Clover the Clever, and Starswirl the Bearded, too. I’ll finish translating and do some magical searching tomorrow.” She started to trot off to where Rarity had made a crackling fire, then stopped and turned back around. Rarity stared at her quizzically. “Thank you,” Twilight said, “for inviting me on this.”
“What? I couldn’t have done any of this without you, my dear.”
Twilight bowed her head. “I think I’ve been neglecting my friends lately. It’s been three weeks and two days since I last saw you, and even longer for the others. That’s why I was so happy when you came to see me. And even though I do love history, I was even more excited at the thought of spending time with you.” The mare blushed. “That’s why I didn’t want Spike to come. I wanted to be with my friend. I just wish the others were here too. I know Fluttershy would have loved seeing the different kinds of animals this far from Ponyville, and Applejack and Rainbow Dash would probably have climbed to the top of the mountain by now.” Twilight similed at the thought, but then bent her head down. “I try to send everyone a letter every month, but it’s not enough.” Twilight hid behind her bangs in a way that reminded Rarity forcefully of a certain yellow pegasus. “I’m worried,” she said.
“About what?” Rarity asked.
“I’m worried I’m going to lose you, to lose all of you.”
“Oh, oh darling.” With a step forward, Rarity placed her head against Twilight’s, rubbing their cheeks together. “I know things have been difficult. We’ve all had so much work, but you’re right. Look, I don’t want to give too much away, but when we get back to Ponyville tomorrow, I have a feeling things will change.”
Twilight rolled her eyes. “Pinkie Pie’s going to throw me another ‘surprise’ party, isn’t she?”
With a grin, Rarity drew a hoof across her mouth. “My lips are sealed. Now, go get yourself ready for bed. I will gather the rest of your things here.” Twilight nodded and headed back towards the campsite.
Rarity sighed. She hoped Twilight wouldn’t be too tired out from the return trip to enjoy the party when they got back. The unicorn had simply insisted on leaving right away for the grave. Rarity had tried to stall her, saying they could leave after her birthday, but nothing swayed the mare. There was simply no arguing with that pony once she set her mind to studying something. Rarity picked up a few pieces of charcoal and some scraps of paper that were all that remained of Twilight’s study session with the tomb. Ready to rest, she gave one last look at the inscriptions etched into the wall of the mountain before joining Twilight in front of the fire. The pictures were crude, lacking the style and sophistication of modern sculptors. But looking closer, Rarity had to admit they had a certain force to them, a raw emotion that came through the simple drawings. Here, a unicorn with horn raised stood against a dragon, his magic shimmering through the air. Below a large square of text sat a candle with flame that flickered, showing strange glimpses of things long gone.
Wait, flickering? Rarity blinked. The candle’s flame was most certainly stationary, carved into solid rock. I must be more tired than I thought. Well, I have been traveling all day, after all. She looked closer. Clover the Clever, the wall proclaimed proudly in symbols three hooves high. A Hero of Equestria and a True Friend. Rarity raised a hoof and traced the word “friend.” Is he lonely in there? she wondered, but she shook the thought away. There wasn’t such a thing as ghosts. Twilight had told her as much repeatedly, insisting that, if anything, this was a trace of magic left behind on accident by the incredibly powerful Clover the Clever. But he felt so real…
The night was very dark and quiet. Somewhere far behind her, Twilight was speaking aloud as she wrote a letter to the Princess, but her voice was faint, and Rarity put it out of her mind, concentrating instead on the beautiful stonework. She moved her hoof to “Clover” and rested it there. The rock was warm, despite the chill of the night. And, somehow, it buzzed, like the tingle she felt in her horn when she brushed against another unicorn’s magic with her own. It wasn’t unpleasant. She pressed harder on the word, and the feeling increased, crawling up her leg and into her shoulder and chest. It felt, well, wonderful!
Breathing heavily, Rarity stroked the word. To her shock, the stone crumbled, falling away beneath her hoof. She hastily tried to push the pieces back into place, but her efforts only accelerated the wall’s destruction. There was a loud crash as the stone facing came tumbling down completely. Behind it, a tunnel stretched, inky-black as it sloped down and away. A rush of air blew out of the tunnel, and Rarity caught the scent of grass, and rich soil of the earth. She inhaled, letting that smell fill her. Normally, she hated how the ground smelled, and preferred to spend as little time “in the dirt” as possible. But this was, different, somehow. She felt like she would just float up off her hooves.
“Rarity!” Twilight was shaking her.
Still awash with a feel of contentment, Rarity turned to her friend and said, “Yes, my dear?”
“I’ve been calling you for five minutes! Are you okay?”
Rarity nodded, puzzled. “Why of course! I feel simply, divine.” She exhaled on the last word, and a lazy smile made its way onto her face.
“Good.” The look of worry Twilight wore faded away, replaced by one of fear. “But why in Equestria did you break down the wall? Exploring grave-sites like this, while it would tell us a lot about ancient Equestrians and how they lived, is illegal!” Twilight took a hesitant step backwards and stared down at the rubble. “Okay, the pieces aren’t too small, so I can just seal them back together. Luckily, I made a rubbing, so I should be able to - Rarity? What are you doing?”
Rarity was inside the mouth of the tunnel. Far below in the darkness, she could see a tiny pinprick of white light. Wind was moving past her, drawing with it more of that sweet scent. Rarity took a step towards the light, then another, and then she was trotting. It was beautiful.
The tunnel widened as she descended, until it opened onto a small room in what had to be the center of the mountain. More markings ran around the walls with pictures in the same style as before. Here, however, time and wind and rain had not eroded them, and they were exquisite. Paint adorned the ponies, bright, vibrant colors that hummed with such life it seemed they might jump right off the wall. There were trees covered in miniature leaves, with apples ripening in the sun, fields of corn and carrots and flowers, growing peacefully under a flawless crescent moon. And on the ceiling, streaks of shimmering green and blue that could only be the aurora borealis across a star-studded night sky. Taking up the whole wall opposite the entrance was a mirror.
But Rarity paid little attention to any of these, because in the center of the room, she saw the source of the light. A stone box stood there, carved out of the very rock of the mountain. Unlike the rest of the room, the box was plain and unadorned. Rarity walked closer. The top was also unmarked, except in the corner, a grey-white metal insert no larger than a hoof, in the shape of a six-pointed star. As Rarity watched, it glimmered, reflecting light from some source she could not see. So perfect, a flawless metalwork, so smooth. She put a hoof to it, wanting just to feel the metal.
The star blazed white-hot at her touch, and a blast of air pushed her back off her hooves. She fell in an ungainly heap to the floor. As she pulled herself back up, a giant crack split the air, and there was a sound like somepony sighing. Rarity watched - not in horror, not with anticipation, but just, watched - as the coffin opened, revealing its contents.
“Ah, Rarity.” It was that voice again, the same one she’d heard in her studio, the one that had led her here. It was soft, and sweet. Rarity had never thought hearing another pony utter her name would be so, soothing. “So beautiful,” the voice said. Rarity looked inside the coffin.
There was a skeleton inside, a small pony with the tattered remains of a dark brown cloak. Rarity saw that some spell must exist on the contents, preserving them, as the clothing had not undergone anywhere near the amount of degradation a millennia-long interment should have brought. Rarity recognized the impeccable seamsponyship of the cloak, tight, hoof-stitched hems with embroidered stars, it was a work of art.
“Rarity!” Rarity turned, floating almost, to the voice. Twilight was standing at the entrance to the room, but she had the strangest look on her face. That wasn’t right. Why did Twilight look so, afraid? She blinked. It wasn’t Twilight at all. How could she have gotten the two of them confused? The pony who stood in front of her was a stallion, a handsome blue colt with a light blue mane and a brown cloak that rakishly shadowed his eyes. Rarity’s heart beat even faster. It was him!
“Rarity.” The stallion spoke. His voice was even better face to face. It enveloped her, warmed her, sending a shiver down her back to her haunches. Rarity could feel her cheeks heat as she blushed. He chuckled good-naturedly. Even his laughter was musical! “I’ve been waiting for you for so long. You’re just as beautiful, of body and soul, as she was.” Clover took a step towards her, then another, and another, and then Rarity could feel his breath on her neck, warm, moist, alive. Her legs nearly melted. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted since forever? A stallion of perfect poise, with excellent manners, who would come and sweep her off her hooves? No. Something was off, wrong. For a second, she wondered where Twilight was, but Clover kissed her lightly behind the ear, and all thoughts of Twilight were crowded out of her mind.
Summoning what reserves of proper decorum she could, Rarity pulled away from him. “For a gentlecolt, you are being quite - ah! - forward about this.”
Clover grinned, displaying sparkling white teeth, and closed the gap between them to press up against her. Rarity stifled a moan as she felt his fur against hers, the press of the woolen cloak that Clover had drawn around her. He put his snout up to her ear, so that when he spoke, his breath tickled her in an amazing way. “How could I contain myself,” he said, “when presented with perfection?” Rarity felt a hoof sliding down her neck. “You’re a princess,” he said. “My princess.” His voice dropped to a whisper, so low she could barely hear it even with his mouth in her ear. “Always, and forever.”
And the hoof was pressing into her cheek, gently guiding her face to his, and then he was kissing her, his mouth wet and his lips firm, pressing against hers eagerly, hungrily, and she was kissing him back! Her eyes closed, and Rarity lost herself in the sensation of it, reveling in his mouth, in the touch of his hoof, in the way his magic was now trailing up and down her back, caressing her as softly as a feather. The magic, it was familiar, somehow, like she’d felt it before. I have felt this before, she thought, but where? She certainly hadn’t met Clover before, that was absurd. So where? Rarity pulled away from the kiss. Clover tensed, and Rarity thought for a moment that he was going to pull her back. But he didn’t. She opened her eyes, and found herself staring into a pair of violet eyes that she knew quite well.
“Twilight?” she said.
“No,” Clover said, shaking his head. He took Rarity’s hoof. “I’ve been here for a thousand and a thousand years, all alone in my little box. I knew there would be another, another with her spark, so I waited. And when I saw you from afar, of, how I wanted to be with you. But I couldn’t. I was weak, oh, so weak.” Clover pressed her hoof to his chest. “But you can feel it now, can’t you? My heart beats, its pulse is strong! Was I ever this alive?” He didn’t wait for an answer, but spun Rarity around like a dancer in the small confines of the room. “That spell, her spell, raised me up, let me call you here, and now we can be together, as it should have been then, as it was meant to be!”
His voice was no longer calming. It had a hurried, biting tone, and Rarity backed away from it. Clover saw and followed. “What do you want from me?” she said. She bumped into the coffin and stopped, unable to move further. Clover grinned and pressed towards her, his horn glowing.
“Just your love, my Rarity. Would you begrudge an old pony such a valued gift, generous, generous Rarity?” Clover’s coat glimmered in the white light of the tomb, and Rarity saw the love in his eyes, those deep green eyes that held such admiration and longing in them, purer than any emotion she had ever seen. Except, was that, hunger?
Rarity blinked, and the eyes were purple, with that same hunger in them. She shut her own eyes tight, and when she opened them, she saw Clover. Then Twilight. Then Clover again. His brow furrowed at the confusion in her face, and he narrowed his eyes. His horn burst with an even brighter light, but this time Rarity felt it, felt the push as Clover’s magic washed over her. Concentrate, she told herself. You know who you are, and no long-dead lout is going to change that! Her own horn began to glow, weakly at first, then growing stronger as she pulled herself into her pattern, the harmony of who she was and knew herself to be.
“I am a lady,” she said to Clover, who was straining furiously now, “and I decide who sweeps me off my hooves!” She pushed at him with her magic, jumping at the shock of the competing forces touching, but smiling when Clover stumbled at her power.
Anger boiled through Clover’s face, and he pursed his lips, showing again those long, white teeth. “No!” he said, and he pushed back. Rarity felt her magic stumble, then shatter under the force of Clover’s assault. She tried to keep her hooves, but fell over backward, directly into the gaping coffin. She screamed when she came face to face with a widely grinning skull, its jaw hanging slightly open as though it were laughing at her. Scrabbling with all four hooves, Rarity went over the lip of the coffin and landed on the other side, the stone box between her and Clover.
“S-stay back!” she said, trying to call up her magic again. Clover’s own power was thick and heavy in the air, and the exhaustion of the day and already-used magic was catching up to Rarity. Her horn’s light sputtered and went out. Clover, his being, his essence, was pressing down on her, suffocating her while Clover walked around the sarcophagus.
“You are not going to refuse me this time, Princess,” Clover said, his face triumphant. “This time, we will be together, and nothing will take us apart!”
But just as Clover was reaching towards her with an outstretched hoof, a high-pitched laugh echoed down the passageway and into the room. It was a giggle that felt completely out of place, free of tension, of fear. Clover’s brow wrinkled in confusion, and then it was Twilight standing in front of Rarity, doubt and bewilderment on her face. “What-? How?” Twilight said, staring down at the terrified form of her friend on the floor. But then she was Clover once more.
“No!” Clover said, snarling. Rarity felt something building inside him, some form of magic that felt alien and awful.
All of a sudden, three things happened in very quick succession.
First, a voice, impossibly loud and impossibly cheerful in the dark atmosphere of the tomb, yelled, “Surpri~ise!” Then, with no pause at all, a loud BANG sounded, and a large purple something hurled across the room to hit Clover directly in the face.
Indeed, Rarity was quite surprised when she raised her head, only to see Twilight standing there, a tablecloth draped over her back and streamers covering her face. Neither of them moved, but stood stock-still, eyes wide at the sudden turn of events. Several long seconds passed as the two of them looked at each other. And then, at the look of pure shock that Twilight wore, and the sight of three bright pink balloons tied to her horn, Rarity let loose a tiny chuckle. She hadn’t meant to, of course, but Twilight just looked so ridiculous she couldn’t help it.
The happy noise was a welcome break to the silence, and so Rarity gave another laugh, and then another, and then Pinkie Pie, for of course it was Pinkie Pie, was laughing, and then the both of them were guffawing as loudly as they could. Twilight was speechless, until she caught sight of herself in the mirror on the wall. Her visage broke piece by piece, until she, too, was rolling on her back, laughing as the balloons bounced and bobbed above her.
Clover roared in anger, his voice cutting through the noise, and the three ponies stopped laughing. He started to reappear over Twilight’s form, but that only made the balloons bounce back and forth even more, which set the three of them to laughing harder. Clover disappeared, and there was a whoosh as air flew back down the tunnel, swirling around the tomb before disappearing into the coffin. The lid, with much scraping, slid back into place with Clover’s body still inside. No one spoke as they sat in what was now total silence, save for a few left-over gasps from Pinkie.
“Pinkie?” said Rarity, her chest burning from too much laughing and her horn aching from too much magic. “Would you be a dear and carry me out of here? It’s only that I don’t think I can...” She decided that this was the proper time to faint. Her only thought was that she had not brought her fainting couch along with her, and so would have to do so on the cold stone floor.
***
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! This is my first fanfiction, and I'm hoping it goes well. Any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated. Additionally, I don't have any pre-readers, so if you would like to pre-read future chapters, please let me know.
I'm interested in world-building and expanding on some of the mechanical aspects of being a pony in Equestria, especially the magic. If you're interested in that, I keep notes and such on my tumblr, Fics On The Moon.
