The Fruits of Their Labors
by Ponydora Prancypants
Blanketed by the thick warm air trapped inside Ponyville’s tiny municipal conservatory, Applejack mopped sweat from her forehead as she regarded the potted tree in front of her with a mixture of pity and contempt.
Orange trees were fragile things, finicky in the best of times and altogether ill-suited for the rigors of the winter months. By contrast, apple trees were hardy: the trees in her orchards could stand up to the worst weather the pegasi could throw at them, plus disease and pests.
Apple trees didn’t give up the ghost easily.
The particular orange tree in front of Applejack only survived the bitter cold of the local winters because it grew indoors, under glass, kept safe and warm. If Applejack were to, say, prop open the door and let the chill of an early spring night fill the conservatory, the orange tree might not survive a single frost. Simply put, it and its kindred weren’t meant to live in these parts.
Applejack despised the little orange tree for its frailty, but she loved it too. Its presence here was no coincidence: her mother had planted it as a seedling when she first moved to Ponyville. That was why so many late early mornings, well before her old rooster greeted the sun, she grasped the handle of a kerosene lantern in her teeth and plodded into town to the small conservatory to care for the fragile little tree and the colorful hothouse flowers and other out-of-place plants inside.
Unlike her little orange tree, Applejack’s mother hadn’t been kept safe behind glass walls: the tree was a living memorial. Rather than pluck living flowers and leave them to wither on the unmarked plot of land where her mother rested, Applejack had at some point decided it was a more fitting tribute to keep this frail orange tree alive year after year, fighting the frost, rot, and a half dozen diseases. It was a thankless task: the thing couldn’t even manage to produce decent fruit to repay her for its unlikely longevity.
Applejack had never even liked oranges much. All that rind and pith and pulp and hard seeds got in the way of enjoyment she might otherwise have gotten from eating them. Too much trouble to dig through all that, to have to taste the bitter peel on her lips and tongue as she struggled to get at the sweet flesh underneath. It was much better to be straightforward and simple, like an apple. Like Applejack. Or at least, like half of her.
Applejack’s orange coat betrayed her mother’s lineage. As much as the trio of bright red apples on her flanks proclaimed her special talent lay here on the farm, as much as she would forever be an apple farmer, she could not change the fact that she was also an Orange. As such, she was more fragile that she cared to admit, and as with any orange, ponies had to work to get at whatever sweet and untasted things might lie beneath the surface.
It was one reason that Applejack was alone, now well into her third decade of life. Alone was a mite strong, maybe. She had her family, and the extended network of Apples that spread across Equestria, and she had her close friends. Yet her troubles with opening up had kept every past fling with a fetching mare or handsome stallion from ever becoming more.
Of course, there was also the fact that she dreaded the prospect of a relationship almost as much as she yearned for one. She had watched as her father was brought low by sickness over the course of a single, miserable year, and then watched her poor, pretty, pathetic mother die of a broken heart soon after.
Oranges were softest in the middle, while apples had tough cores. Applejack was terrified to risk finding out what kind of heart she had. At the same time, she wanted desperately to taste that fruit, and discover whether it was good.
Applejack took up her pruning shears and began examining the orange tree, looking for any unruly growth that needed to be trimmed back. She found none. There were delicate white blossoms on the orange tree now, the predecessors of what would eventually become oranges. She wondered if maybe this year might be different, and the little tree would actually produce something sweet.
“Applejack, darling, is that really you over there?” a soft voice whispered uncertainly.
Startled, Applejack dropped her shears, quickly spun on her hooves, and squinted, searching the dark conservatory for the unmistakable source of the voice.
She had recognized the speaker at once. Nopony else called her “Applejack, darling,” for one thing.
There. A faint blue light hung in the air several lengths away, well outside the circle of illumination of Applejack’s own lantern. As Applejack stared at the light, a mare’s face slowly resolved.
Rarity stood on the other side of the hothouse, her normally carefully-styled mane pinned up casually, even haphazardly. The magical illumination of her horn lit her head and neck while the rest of her remained in shadow, producing the effect of a spectral head floating there in the gloom. Her big blue eyes looked searchingly at Applejack, as though at a loss as to why the farmer would be in this glassed-in house of ornament and artifice, rather than in her warm bed back at the farm, resting up in advance of another honest day’s hard labor. Then again, maybe Applejack was just projecting the question that was on her own mind.
“Who does it look like, Rare? Course it’s me,” the farmer answered brusquely, in clipped tones that she did not intend to employ. Worse, she knew Rarity would pick up on any defensiveness. Rarity was the kind of mare who didn’t miss much when it came to interpony cues.
“Hello, and, I suppose, good morning. In any case, it is certainly a pleasant surprise to find you here,” Rarity offered without a trace of suspicion or subtext. Mercifully, she was a lot more tactful than most ponies, and seemingly had a sixth sense for when not to pry.
The white unicorn then closed her eyes, and her horn began to glow brighter and brighter, until the entire chamber was suffused with the cool blue light of her magic.
“I myself love to visit this place whenever I have the chance. All the gorgeous flowers, and the beautiful plants and trees—they’re all so inspirational, I dare say!”
“Well, I can’t speak for what inspires you, but it’s not yet five o’clock, it’s pitch dark out, and there ain’t no way you can see the colors of these flowers just by the light of your horn.” Applejack, in contrast, was markedly less tactful than the average pony, a fact that she had long since come to accept, but which frequently got her into trouble.
“I was merely out for a stroll, and I’ve got as much right to visit the public conservatory as the next pony, whenever I please,” Rarity huffed, then narrowed her gaze. “And what about you? Are you pruning that tree? Goodness, you work hard enough as it is, Applejack. I shall have to write the mayor and tell her to stop begging your assistance for the most trivial of things, knowing that you never turn down a request for help. You don’t even live within the town limits, so she really hasn’t the right.”
Applejack turned back to look at shears, hoof-guards, and other implements that rested on the ground beside her saddlebags. “Oh,” she began, softly. There was really no point in dancing around her reason for being here. “T’ain’t nothin’ like that, Rare, so no need to go fussin’ to the mayor. I come here of my own accord, sometimes. My ma had this place built, you know, back before we were even born. A lot of the stuff she planted is still growin’ here, like this tree.”
“Oh my, I never knew.” Rarity walked toward Applejack, the soft light from her horn becoming more intense as she drew near. “An orange tree. Of course, it seems so obvious now.” She turned toward Applejack. “I am so, so sorry for barging in on you like this.”
Applejack shook her head. “You had no way to know I was here, and besides, I shoulda told you about this years ago.”
“We weren’t on the best of terms in the years after your parents passed,” Rarity pointed out. “As I recall we weren’t even speaking then, nor for a long time after. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
“Hey Sugarcube, that was then. We’re good now.”
Rarity smiled. “We are, aren’t we?”
“I s’pose we have Twilight to thank for it, and our gonzo little sisters gallopin’ off into the Everfree Forest last year.”
“Ugh, that. Don’t remind me. I’d rather not remember the fire, or those awful timberwolves.”
“Well, the girls ended up safe and sound, and I got my friend back.” Applejack playfully pushed against Rarity’s shoulder with a forehoof. “I’d say that was worth just a little bit of mortal peril, don’t you think?
Rarity smiled. “I’ll grant you that.” Her expression turned serious. “We’re so different, you and I, but I hope you know that I truly need you. I had been getting by as well as I could in those long years without you, but life had lost some of its color and flavor. Now that I have you back, I feel so much better. I feel more alive, like when we were young. In fact, I feel like a better pony in every way.”
Applejack flushed, and hoped the darkness hid and her orange coat hid any extra color. “You’re always over-generous when it comes to kind words, Rare, but thanks. I think you’re pretty special too.”
And the fact was, she did. Ever since they had been small, Applejack had been captivated by the grandiloquent unicorn filly with the big dreams and little saddlebags filled to bursting with beautiful bows and ribbons, who was so dedicated to making the world a lovely place for everypony. Rarity was still the same pony, except for now she actually knew what all the fancy words she used meant, and the bright, simple ribbons of childhood had inevitably given way to haute couture.
Rarity had also grown into her body, and what a body it was—nopony seriously debated the identity of the most beautiful mare in Ponyville. If a long, lean, shaped-just-right-all-over body like that belonged to anypony other than her oldest friend, Applejack would have harbored what her Granny referred to as “unchaste thoughts.” Not that Granny Smith would have scolded her: she herself seemed to used the phrase in conjunction with every eligible stallion over sixty in town, and some who weren’t so eligible, or so close to her own age.
“Pish posh,” Rarity replied. “It is only the honest sentiment of a true friend.”
“Well, alright, if you say so.” Applejack paused. “Now that the mushy stuff is out of the way, as a friend, I can’t help asking if you might care to tell me what you’re really doin’ here in the wee small hours of the mornin’?”
“Oh, if I must.” Rarity turned away, and trotted a few steps in the opposite direction, before turning around and beginning to pace, her head held low. “The fact of the matter is, I couldn’t sleep.” Abruptly, she halted her pacing. “Are you sure you want me to get into this? Truly, I don’t want to intrude upon your private time, Applejack.”
“Just keep talkin’, Rare.”
“Well …” Rarity looked up. “Late last evening, I received momentous, earthshaking news in the form of a letter. Hoity Toity —you remember him—wrote to tell me that thanks to his intercession, I have been offered a high-profile showcase in an important fashion show in Manehattan—the most important fashion show, in fact, on the most prestigious day, the final day of Fashion Week.”
Rarity stepped closer to Applejack, then reared back on her hind legs and rested her forelegs on Applejack’s shoulders. “I cannot overstate what a huge deal this is. I know my work seems trivial sometimes, but this opportunity presents itself as a pivotal moment in my life. If I accept the invitation, the showing I put forward has the potential to make or break my future career.”
“I’ve never called your work trivial, Rare,” Applejack said, as she gently extricated herself from the other’s hooves. “You work as hard as any farmer muckin’ around in the dirt that I know. It’s just a different kind of work, is all. And congratulations are in order! That sounds pretty wonderful, and you sure do deserve it.”
“Thank you for that.” Rarity smiled, then sighed. “I’m sure you are wondering why good news like that would set me to fretting and traipsing about Ponyville in the middle of the night.”
“The question had crossed my mind.”
“You see, I’m desperately, helplessly anxious about the whole thing. I felt like I couldn’t breathe even in my home, under the covers in my own bed. Ever since I read the invitation, I’ve felt a thousand pairs of eyes on me, judging me, critiquing everything I do.”
“But why'd you end up here?”
“Well, I needed some air, and this place is a greenhouse, so at least it’s warm. Also, it smells like flowers.”
“It’s also kept locked overnight,” Applejack pointed out. “It was only open because I’ve got a key.”
“I know the conservatory is locked at night.” Rarity wore a sheepish smile as she magically pulled a bobby pin from her mane and held it aloft in the light for Applejack to see. “A lady is never without resources.”
Applejack cocked her head and grinned. “Really, now? I guess you got a few surprises left in you after all this time.”
“We both have,” Rarity said, indicating the orange tree with a foreleg.
“Well, yeah,” Applejack admitted. “Though if it’s alright with you, I’d prefer to keep my business here between the two of us.”
“You have my word on it.”
“I truly appreciate it,” Applejack said. “Listen, Rare, I’m real proud of you for gettin’ this here opportunity. Believe me when I say you got no cause for nervousness, none whatsoever. You’re the most talented fashion designer in Equestria, as far as I’m concerned. For that matter, anypony who knows you, knows you’re number one. Once those fancy Manehattan designers see what you can do, they’ll be beggin’ you to set up shop out there in the big city.”
“Oh, Applejack, you truly are the best of ponies.” Rarity again lifted herself up on her hind legs, this time so that she could envelop Applejack in a tight hug. As she let go and sank back to all fours, she sighed. “The problem is that most of the ponies who will be evaluating me and my work don’t know me. They will see me only as 'the designer from the country.' I’ve come a long way, to be sure, but those Manehattan fashion ponies travel in truly stratospheric circles, high above the humdrum of those of us still striving to make our mark in the fashion world. I’m not sure I’m prepared to risk the rejection and humiliation of a poor showing. I may yet decline the invitation.”
“Well, I guess you gotta do what you think is right, but I believe in you. For whatever that’s worth.”
“It’s worth more than I can say, honestly.” Rarity paused, and closed her eyes thoughtfully, chewing her lower lip all the while. “I just don’t know how I’ll survive a week away from you and the others, surrounded by business rivals and fashion elites who won’t even consider that a girl from Ponyville might have something worthwhile to say through her designs. I know Hoity Toity meant well in arranging this chance for me, and I hate to squander it, but if I go I fear I’ll be eaten alive by those ponies.”
“Heh, you once got a whole pack of diamond dogs to make you their cave queen or somethin’. How bad can a bunch of stuck-up macaronis and prancy-pants dilettantes be?”
“Bad, Applejack. Very bad. These fashion ponies make pirahnasprites look as harmless as stuffed teddy mares. And did you just use the word ‘dilettante?’”
“What if I did?” Applejack lifted up her chin, and winked. “You and Twilight ain't the only ponies around here who can read a book, and besides, I’ve done my time among those fancy city ponies.”
“Oh, that’s right! I had forgotten all about that. Well, maybe I should bring you with me, so that you can teach me how to navigate the treacherous waters infested with Manehattan's high society elites,” Rarity said with a grin..
Applejack flinched involuntarily at the thought of ever going back to that place.
“What, did I say something?”
“No, no,” Applejack said. “Sorry. I was just thinking about …” Applejack looked away, searching for some means of redirecting the conversation. Dissembling was far from her strong suit.
“That tree? You’re staring at it rather intently.”
“Huh? Oh … this here tree ...”
“Yes, that orange tree.” Suddenly, Rarity straightened and her eyes shot wide open, startling Applejack. “Hm, I apologize for prying, but aren’t most of the Oranges still living in Manehattan?”
Applejack was pretty sure Rarity knew without asking, and she didn’t want to talk about her mother’s relatives, but it wasn’t in her nature to respond to a question with anything other than an honest answer.
“Yep. The Oranges have been on that goldurned island since the first settler ponies arrived, and I’d wager they’ll be there ‘til it sinks into the sea.” Thinking about her mother’s family, Applejack felt her cheeks flush, and she cast her gaze toward the ground. “Fact is, I ain’t been back to the city to see any of ‘em in a real long time, but trust me, they’re still there.”
“Aha, yes, as I thought. Yes indeed,” Rarity said firmly. Standing up straight and tall, her horn illuminating her countenance with an otherworldly radiance, Rarity spoke like a queen issuing a proclamation. “Applejack, here is what is to happen: I shall host a soiree this evening, and there I shall consult my closest friends on the subject of my invitation. Though the period of time between this notice and the actual event is tragically and almost unforgivably abbreviated, I sincerely hope you will attend.”
“Anything for you, Sugarcube,” Applejack replied, though already dreading the thought of having to gab about her brief time in Manehattan for several overlong hours. “That’s what friends are for, ain’t it?”
“Thank you!” Rarity exclaimed, and gave a stately nod. “You won’t be disappointed if you come. I have an idea.”
“It must be a good one.”
“All of my ideas are good ones. This may be a great one.”
“Can’t wait to find out what it is.”
“Well then, I’d be ever so happy if you could arrive at the boutique promptly at … shall we say, seven o’clock tonight?”
“You can count on me,” Applejack replied, tipping her hat.
“I always do.” Rarity winked, and with that, turned to leave. Soon even the glow of her horn was swallowed by the dark.
Smiling and shaking her head, Applejack picked up her pruning shears, and resumed her scrutiny of the little orange tree.
********************************
Applejack trotted through Ponyville, thinking about Rarity, and about how she had come to be friends with somepony so different from her in nearly every way.
Rarity was always larger than life, always concerned with big ponies and big deeds, always with her head in Canterlot, or Manehattan, or Los Pegasus—anywhere but Ponyville. Applejack’s world was the here and now, her farm and her family. Had been for a long time. So how had she and Rarity become friends?
She asked, Applejack reminded herself. On the playground, what seemed a thousand years ago, that pretty unicorn who spoke with so many funny words had asked her to be her friend. They had spent their days and nights tromping about town, wondering what the future would hold, long before cutie marks, or Twilight Sparkle and the Elements of Harmony, or the faintest dream of ever actually meeting Princess Celestia.
Well, that wasn’t true: Rarity had probably counted on someday taking tea with the Princess from the time she could talk. She was the kind of pony who believed in her heart that her daydreams and wild imaginings could be made real, and she worked like the dickens every day to make it so.
Other ponies came from far and wide to pay good money for the products of Rarity’s imagination, and they left happy with their feathered hats and lacy dresses and one-of-a-kind jewelry. They were spreading the word about the dressmaker from little Ponyville.
Apples were delicious, but they were plucked fully formed and nearly uniform in their shape, taste, and texture. Recipes for every conceivable apple dish and drink had been passed down for generations. There was nothing left for Applejack to imagine, even if she had been an imagining sort of pony.
Yet Rarity had said she needed her. Maybe Rarity needed somepony as plain as Applejack to keep her grounded, so that when the lightning of inspiration struck her she did not get hurt.
Applejack needed Rarity too. Some part of her craved the white unicorn's attention, and thrived on her presence. Maybe Applejack needed somepony who reminded her of the beautiful, dainty mare who had gardened and painted and danced and read poetry to her at night, because Rarity did remind her of her mother in the way she moved and talked and laughed. Rarity, though, unlike Ma, had all the good health and physicality of any Ponyville mare born and bred in the fresh country air. If Rarity ever faded away out of Applejack's life, it would be because she chose to chase the bright lights far away from Ponyville.
Maybe, Applejack decided, some relationships defied easy rationalization.
Whatever the reasons for it were, there was little, perhaps nothing, Applejack treasured more fiercely than the enigmatic whatever-it-was she had with the white unicorn. And though this was to be a celebratory party, she always felt a hint of melancholy when Rarity was leaving town. There was always the niggling worry that Rarity might fall in love with the world of glitz and glamour that she couldn’t find at home, and she might not come back.
It might be inevitable that someday destiny would call Rarity to the world of glowing streetlamps, tall spires, balls attended by royalty, and soaring airships steaming across the sky. It seemed a steady current was pushing Rarity in that direction, one strong enough that Applejack couldn’t fight against it. And maybe Rarity would be happier in that world. There would probably come a time when Applejack would have to examine her own feelings and decide what she would do when it came time to let Rarity go. Tonight, though, she would just smile and be happy for her friend.
Applejack trotted up to Rarity’s door and pulled the cord for the bell with her teeth, then again a few seconds later when nopony appeared to greet her. Finally, she heard the clip-clop of hooves approaching inside.
“You had but to ring the bell once, and have just a bit of patience, darling,” Rarity chided, upon opening the front door of Carousel Boutique at precisely seven o’clock. “I was merely putting a few finishing touches in place.”
The unicorn wore a simple powder blue dress trimmed in white, and dangling earrings of diamonds and teardrop-shaped pearls shimmered as they caught the light from inside. Her coat and hair were brushed and styled with impossible meticulousness: not so much as a strand of hair strayed out of place, and the tasteful bit of makeup she wore highlighted the luminescent clarity of her sapphire-blue eyes.
She was, as always, stunningly beautiful, and though Applejack knew full well how much effort Rarity expended on her appearance, the finished product somehow always looked as though it had been the easiest and most natural thing in the world to achieve.
“Thought maybe some of the others were already here, and maybe you couldn’t hear me on account of all the ruckus,” Applejack replied. She was freshly washed for the occasion, and she had dusted off her hat, but that was the full extent of her efforts at beautification. She peered over Rarity’s shoulder. “Though I don’t hear nopony.”
“No, I’m alone,” Rarity replied as she stepped aside to permit ingress. “I have a confession to make, though please do come while I go about making it. You see, the others were invited for eight o’clock, not seven.”
Applejack started, and her ears pricked up of their own accord. “What? Why’d you ask me to be here an hour early? Don’t look like you need help with the prettifying.”
Applejack took in her surroundings as she spoke. Carousel Boutique, Rarity’s home-cum-proprietorship, was absolutely resplendent in a way that only a pony with a designer’s eye could manage. Beautiful silvery drapes had been hung strategically from the ceiling to create an enclosed, tent-like space in the center of the first floor showroom, and a banquet table was situated in the center of it. Crystal stemware and porcelain dishware were artfully placed, and the place settings were accented by mounds of carefully-arranged baubles and bangles Rarity herself had fashioned over the years.
Off to one side of the room, beyond the drapery tent, a small herd of no less than a dozen pony-shaped dressforms stood wearing glittery, complicated, colorful outfits each more ostentatious than the last. One reminded Applejack of a cherry orchard filled with fragrant flowers, while other lemon yellow dress sang a song of citrus, and a layered, flowing green ensemble seemed to hearken to the forthcoming crop of spring greens and lettuces.
"Looks like harvest time," Applejack said, indicating the dresses. "I like 'em."
Rarity startled, and shook her head. "Oh no, my line for fashion week was inspired by the gems of the Crystal Empire," she spoke anxiously. "Garnets, topaz, emeralds. The Empire is still a novelty, you know, and very fashionable at the moment. There can be nothing of the country in my designs; I don't dare remind the critics that I am not as worldly or urbane as they."
“Well then, I sure as hay hope y’all didn’t invite me early just to get my opinion on those dresses, 'cos they sure do remind this farmer of her line of work. But what do I know? My tastes run more toward the practical, and besides, we both know I haven’t got one fashionable bone in my body."
“Nonsense,” Rarity replied, waving a forehoof dismissively. “Sartorial tastes come and go, but being an honest and true friend will never go out of style. I assure you, however, that your critical eye is not the reason why I used false pretenses to procure your early arrival.”
Applejack was perplexed. “So then …” Her guesses and expectations hung suspended in the air, waiting for Rarity to cut the fragile strands supporting them, and reveal the fact of the matter.
“Here, you will need this first.” Rarity used her magic to levitate a wide-lipped cup - almost a bowl, really—containing a healthy measure of red wine over to Applejack, who took the rim in her teeth. Rarity’s own glass was a sparkling crystal goblet, held aloft in a shimmering blue magical field. “It’s nothing fancy, merely a decent drinking claret from the cellar.”
Applejack carefully set the cup down on the dining table. “I’m fine, Rare. Just tell me what you want to say.”
Rarity, meanwhile, had downed her own glass. “Pardon me, then. I, at least, need to fortify myself, and I had hoped to render you a touch more pliable.” She sighed. “I am going to ask something of you, and it is no small favor.”
“Well, what is it?”
“Before I go any further, I want you to know that I recognize how important your work here is, and how heavily your family relies upon you to keep the farm running. That is to say, I don’t make this request lightly, or from ignorance. The truth is …” Rarity’s voice faltered for an instant, though she quickly collected herself.
“Ahem. Forgive me if I sound grandiloquent; it tends to happen when I am being heartfelt. The truth is, Applejack, I feel close to you in a way that I simply do not with anypony else. Not with Twilight, nor even dear Fluttershy. You knew me before I even understood myself, and you were beside me while I discovered my dream, and where it would lead me. You know who I am, and, though I’ll never fully understand why, you like who I am. Better than anypony, I feel you can support me in what lies ahead.”
“I don’t know about all that,” Applejack said, while internally marveling that the unicorn felt that way about her, that they shared a connection. It was the same way Applejack felt, though she couldn’t explain it succinctly, or put it into words any better than Rarity had.
“Please, just hear me out, and at least consider the great favor I am about to ask.”
“I have an inklin’ that you’re fixin’ to ask me to come with you to Manehattan,” Applejack surmised.
Rarity’s glass dropped several hoof-lengths before she managed to catch it, and she stared unblinking back at Applejack. “Well. You’ve seen right through me, as usual. It does make one wonder if it is possible to hide anything at all from you.”
Applejack shrugged. “When you were askin’ about my ma’s family earlier, I could see the wheels spinnin’ in that head of yours.”
“And I thought I was being coy and clever with my premeditated inveigling.”
“Heh heh. I’d like to think I’ve grown immune to your wiles after all these years.”
“I’d … like to think that isn’t so. I had rather looked forward to charming you for a long time to come.”
“You’re always charmin’, Sugarcube. Hey, I’m charmed right now. The fact that I can puzzle out just a little subtlety every now and then don’t change that.”
“Well, given your inescapable perspicacity, I suppose honesty shall have to suffice as the best policy. The crux of it all is that I am desperately hoping you will agree to accompany me on my trip for Fashion Week. You certainly deserve a vacation, and you can treat the trip as such, while I rely on you as my oasis of sanity and goodness in an uncharitable world.”
“Rare …” Applejack began.
“Please, Applejack. I need your strength for this. I need somepony who will act completely opposite to me, the time I made a fool of myself in Cloudsdale. I want you with me, and only you.”
Applejack hesitated. This was a golden opportunity to spend time with Rarity, to reconnect and maybe even to explore this strange closeness she was recently feeling. This was a chance to let Rarity know how important she was to her, and to make Rarity aware of how much she was wanted here, in Ponyville, before she would leave and be lost forever to some penthouse apartment in the center of a big city far away. It might even be her last chance: Rarity had called this trip a pivotal moment in her life.
But … Applejack shook her head. “I can’t go, Rare. I’m sorry, honestly I am, but I got work to do here, and maybe even more importantly, I ain’t ready to see those Oranges again.”
Rarity visibly deflated. “But why?”
Applejack sighed. “I don’t talk about them much, but you know the Oranges are one of the oldest and wealthiest families in Manehattan. You can imagine what a stir it made when one of ‘em moved out here to marry an apple farmer in some town nopony from Manehattan had ever heard of. They didn’t so much as visit, not one time, and we didn’t go see them in the city neither.
“After Ma died, my Aunt and Uncle Orange offered to take care of any of us kids, if we wanted to go stay with them. I went—maybe I just couldn’t take livin’ among such sadness, what with my family and what happened with you. When I was there, even as a filly their high station in life was obvious to me from the way they were treated every we went. To me though, puttin’ on airs and doin’ everything to distance themselves from regular workaday ponies just didn’t seem right. It was like everything Pa said about them was true. In the months I lived with 'em, my aunt and uncle never did anything to respect my roots on the farm or my family traditions. After I left, they didn’t so much as write. As far as I’m concerned, I’m done with ‘em.”
“I’m sorry,” Rarity said. “I had no idea things were so strained between you. I do remember your mother, and how sweet and kind she was. I assumed her family would be similar. But even so, you could stay with me in the hotel, and then you would never have to see them, or if you so chose, you could visit them on your terms. Maybe they have changed their attitude since you were a filly. I, for one, have always believed in second chances.”
Applejack frowned. "Chances schmances. I'm pretty sure I don't ever want to see 'em again, and Manehattan ain’t so big that word don’t travel. ‘Sides, I got obligations here. I want to help you, but—”
Rarity trotted over and nuzzled her cheek against Applejack’s own. “Please. I need you, Applejack,” she said softly.
A feeling like an electrostatic shock shot through Applejack’s body as Rarity whispered the words in her ear, and she felt the other mare’s breath caress her. With all the abrupt athleticism of a startled doe, Applejack turned her head and sprang away.
“You don’t need me!” she protested, her voice cracking. “Anypony who can’t recognize talent like yours is a durn fool who don’t deserve to be in the fashion industry in the first place! You’re gonna be fine.”
“You know the city!” Rarity protested. She walked toward Applejack and raised an imploring foreleg toward her face. “You lived there once. You know how those ponies speak and act. You can help me fit in, and avoid all of the awkwardness on account of my rural origins. You know—”
“I know t’ain’t no place for a pony like me,” Applejack said resolutely, pushing Rarity’s hoof away and squaring her jaw.
Rarity’s expression was one of indignation, and Applejack was sure she was crimson under her coat. “I’m shocked at you, afraid of your own family! Are just going to go on pretending the rest of your life that your only living relative on your mother’s side is a tree? Is that really what you want?”
“Oho! You’re gonna talk to me about pretendin’? That’s rich! At least I don’t spend every wakin’ minute of my life pretendin’ to be somethin’ I ain’t, like I’m ashamed of where I come from and lookin’ to leave it all behind first chance I get!”
Rarity did not react immediately, but after a long moment’s pause her horn began to glow and a plush red couch appeared from somewhere in the boutique an instant before Rarity collapsed onto it and buried her face in her forehooves. Applejack heard choked sobs.
Even though it was Applejack who had spoken the words, she felt like she had been socked right in the gut, and had the wind knocked out of her.
“Consarnit!” Applejack threw her hat to the floor and hurried to Rarity’s side. “I didn’t mean that, Sugarcube. You know I didn’t mean that.”
Rarity lifted a foreleg only long enough to swat Applejack’s own extended hoof away, and then resumed her protective posture.
“You mean everything you say! You’re honest to a fault! And you're right. I'm a pathetic fake.”
“No, Rare! I’m a pony just like you and everypony else: I get carried away sometimes. Look, talkin’ about Manehattan puts a bee in my bonnet, is all. I can just picture bein’ there with you, and seein’ how much you love all the tall buildings, the gas lamps and fancy ponies, and I’ll be sittin’ next to you, this country rube thinkin’ of nothin’ ‘cept being back on her farm, while you expect me to be this city pony in love with all the same things on account of spendin’ a few months there. Look, maybe it’s partially about my ma’s family, but maybe it’s also a selfish thing. Every time you go on one of these trips, I’m half scared to death you ain’t gonna come back.”
“What? After all this time, Applejack, how can it be that you still don’t you understand me at all?” Rarity asked between sniffles. She sat up and looked at Applejack, her eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot. “If I wanted to leave Ponyville today and never return, I could do it. I could set up shop in Canterlot, or Fillydelphia, or even Manehattan, and I’m sure I would do just fine. There’s always room for a capable tailor and there’s always a market for fine gems, if nothing else.”
“I’m really sorry …”
“I could have left years ago,” Rarity went on. “My dream is to become a fashion sensation, not to escape. I love my family here. No matter what I might say in the low moments when I'm surrounded by Canterlot ponies who only know Ponyville as the target of their jokes, I always come home. I love this little country town where I was born, and I love my friends, every one of you.”
“Even me? Even after I said something so stupid?” Applejack whispered.
Rarity sat up. “Of course, you silly thing.” Rarity ran a hoof through Applejack’s blond mane before hooking her forelegs under Applejack’s own and drawing her up off the floor and into a hug.
“I’m sorry for springing such an awkward request on you. It was inconsiderate, ill-advised, and—”
“I’ll go,” Applejack said.
Rarity let her friend drop back to the floor. “What?”
“Ow. You asked for my support as a friend, and it was only my own cowardice that held me back. But you’re right, I can’t go on pretendin’ that I’m all alone, and I can’t go on hidin’ from those Manehattan ponies, and I shouldn’t have forgotten for one apple-pickin’ minute that you’re my friend, and I’d do anything for you. I’m comin’ with you, and that’s that.”
Rarity gasped. “Do you really mean it?”
“Darn straight I mean it. You and me are gonna show that stuck-up city that Ponyville mares are the best in Equestria.”
Rarity clapped her forehooves together. “Fabulous! We shall be a pair of mares both classy and sassy!”
“Rootin’ and tootin’!”
“Witty and pretty!”
“Saucy and bossy!”
Rarity used her telekinesis to lift Applejack’s hat from the boutique floor and perch it jauntily atop her own head. “Dare I say it?” she asked with a grin.
“Nope,” Applejack replied, and plucked the hat away with her teeth before flipping it up onto her own head. “It's my line: Yee-haw!”
Rarity stood up, magically dismissed her couch to wherever she kept it when she wasn’t inclined to swoon, and retrieved both of their wine glasses.
“Applejack darling, you’ve made me one deliriously happy mare tonight. I feel celebratory.”
This time, Applejack accepted the proffered cup and took a drink. Somehow, even a single sip made her feel heady, or maybe it was the prospect of spending those days alone with Rarity.
“Well, my comin’ along doesn’t change the fact that you've got to wow those fashion ponies. I just can't help you there.”
Rarity struck a coquettish pose, looked back over her left shoulder at Applejack, and giggled. “Come now, are you not wowed?”
“Oh, wow.” Applejack rolled her eyes, but did not avert them.
“Hmmph. At any rate, all my designs are ready, I’m just not certain that I am. Thank Celestia I’ll have you.”
Applejack nodded. “And you always will, pardner.”
Rarity raised her glass. “Then here’s to us, and to having each other, forever and ever.”
' “Now that’s a toast this pony can drink to.”
********************************
Applejack had been right about one thing: five minutes after stepping off the train, Rarity had fallen in love with Manehattan. She admired the multitude of squared-off buildings, each taller than the most vertiginous and palatial spires in Canterlot, and most housing not just the high and mighty, but every sort of pony. She marveled at the tranquil, perfectly-manicured parks surrounded by the chaotic bustle of rattling carriages, open-topped cabriolets, and thousands of ponies trotting this way and that, all intent upon their destination. She could not resist examining every flower stall that arrayed its wares like a display of fireworks bursting with color above the gray of the streets and sidewalks. She gaped like a foal in a candy store at every window display showcasing designer clothing and accessories. It was all Applejack could do to keep Rarity pointed in the general direction of the hotel as they trotted down the sidewalk.
Keeping up with the unicorn in the bejeweled blue traveling cloak was made that much more difficult by the tight harness around Applejack’s barrel and the cart filled with luggage and garment bags she was pulling. She might have griped, except that Rarity was straining to levitate a swarm of still more bags and suitcases. Being a designer with a showcase at Fashion Week prohibited traveling light, apparently.
For her part—and maybe this was her Orange half talking—Applejack grudgingly admitted that around every corner there was a sight more impressive than the last. Buildings, monuments, and public spaces that didn’t exist yet when she was a filly had sprouted all over the island, and it seemed there were even more ponies thronging hither and thither than ever before. Canterlot may be where Princess Celestia lived, but there was no denying that Manehattan was Equestria’s real hub these days.
Perhaps most amazing of all, Hoity Toity had actually arranged for Rarity to stay at the Wildhoof-Wisteria, the most famous and elegant hotel in the city. As a filly, Applejack had only been inside once, for afternoon tea with her aunt and uncle and some of their society friends, but she still remembered the immensity and sparkle of the great crystal chandeliers, and the battalion of neatly groomed stallions in their crisp waiter jackets. Even after visiting an entire empire made of crystal, nothing had dimmed her memory of the Wildhoof. Applejack had an unerring sense of direction, and even though new buildings had sprung up seemingly everywhere she looked, she was sure the hotel was just around the next corner. This was confirmed when Rarity, who was trotting a few lengths ahead in her eagerness, let out a loud gasp that was soon transformed into a girlish squeal of delight.
“Look at it, Applejack. I have never seen anything so magnificent in my entire life!”
As Applejack turned the corner and the hotel came into view, she had to smile, if only because Rarity’s enthusiasm was infectious. The Wildhoof really was impressive, all thirty-five floors of stone and brick, with enormous, sparkling clean picture windows in every guestroom. Narrow towers rose to sharp points on each side of the hotel’s roofline, and flagpoles on top hosted oversized Equestrian flags and Manehattan banners that snapped sharply in the wind.
“Eh, give me a nice red barn any day of the week,” Applejack said, then winked when Rarity looked aghast.
“Very funny.”
“It’s a right pretty sight, that’s for sure. But I’m hungry. What say we check in and find somethin’ to eat?”
Rarity nodded. “Mm, yes, all this excitement has gotten me feeling a bit peckish too, and I’m dying to see the inside. Let us away, then!”
They trotted ahead, Applejack’s cart rolling and bouncing along on the sidewalk as Rarity’s luggage floated beside her. As they approached the revolving glass doors of the hotel, they passed a long string of yellow taxicabs harnessed to their cabbies, and a troupe of uniformed stallions assisting crowds of elegant-looking ponies entering and leaving the hotel. Here are there amidst the crowd were ponies, like Applejack, who went unclothed, but not many.
The grand lobby of the Wildhoof was at least six stories tall in its own right, and could have completely contained Ponyville’s town hall with room to spare in every dimension. Everywhere Applejack looked, there was marble, gold, and inlaid gemstones. Rarity’s wide eyes sparkled as she gawked, mouth slightly agape.
Like any other tourist from the country, Applejack thought, smiling inwardly. How funny it was to see Rarity jarred out of the serene nonchalance she usually tried to project in public, and how odd that it was her, Applejack, who had “been there and done that.” She decided she ought to relish the experience while she could.
At the far left wall of the grand lobby, the reception and concierge desk was an impressive affair of dark oak and black marble streaked with veins of white, and the trio of handsome stallions staffing it wore smart vests with black bow ties. As Applejack and Rarity approached the desk, bellhops descended upon them to relieve Applejack of her harness and carefully stack their luggage on a large rolling cart with a tall metal bar over it, from which Rarity’s garment bags were hung. Their work done for the moment, the bellhops stood aside.
“Welcome to the Wildhoof-Wisteria, mademoiselles,” the clerk behind the desk greeted the two mares, injecting a bit of Fancy even though his accent betrayed him as being born and bred in Manehattan. “Under what name shall I find your reservation?”
“Rarity Unicorn!” Rarity exclaimed with undisguised joy. “And this is my guest, Applejack.”
“Ah yes, here we are,” the clerk announced, after leafing through his reservation book. He looked up and smiled, flashing dazzlingly white teeth. Applejack wondered if, when not working at the hotel, the handsome clerk aspired to become an actor, or a singer. Such was so often the case in the City of Dreams, as the wistful called it.
The clerk continued, “Two such beautiful ladies as yourselves can only be here for Fashion Week. Are you models, by chance?”
“Hardly, oh, but do go on!” Rarity said, laughing gaily, even as Applejack regarded the stallion skeptically. “Though I must confess we are indeed here for Fashion Week. How did you ever guess?”
“If not models, then you are both tragically undiscovered,” the clerk said, still smiling. “So far, at least. Of course, my divination powers might have been helped by the fact that the hotel is completely booked, and each and every guest of the Wildhoof right now is here for Fashion Week. The same goes for every hotel within a dozen blocks of the Garment District.”
“Ah, well, there we have an explanation I can believe!” Rarity replied. “Though your flattery is not unappreciated.”
“I think we’d best be gettin’ to our room, Rare.” Applejack decided that she needed to put a stop to the clerk’s flirtatious banter if she was ever going to get something to eat.
“Hm?” Rarity blinked. “Oh, yes, of course you’re right.”
“My apologies for the delay,” the clerk said, his pleasant demeanor unaffected. “We have room thirty-two thirteen for you.” He suddenly disappeared beneath the desk and reappeared a moment later with an envelope held deftly between his teeth, which he then placed on the desk and gently slid across. “Your keys.”
“Thank you kindly,” Applejack said, tipping her hat.
“Most kindly indeed,” Rarity added, and took hold of the key envelope with her magic. Then she frowned. “Oh my, now we need to steel ourselves for ascending more than thirty flights of stairs! Whatever is left of my efforts to be presentable while traveling shall be ruined!”
“Not at all,” a thin stallion wearing a bellhop’s hat and vest stated, stepping forward with a grin. “Please follow me.”
Since he was pushing their luggage along ahead of him, Applejack and Rarity had no real choice but to follow the young stallion to a bank of brass doors in a large alcove at the back of the lobby. Applejack did not remember seeing the doors before.
“We get lots of first time visitors to Manehattan, and I never get tired of introducing our amazing ascending rooms,” the bellhop said, beckoning Rarity and Applejack into a cramped chamber on the other side of the brass doors. He pushed the luggage cart in and joined them, then pushed down a lever mounted in one wall until it stopped on the number “32.” The doors closed.
“We’re moving!” Rarity marveled, even as Applejack felt the unmistakable lurch of vertical travel in her stomach.
“That’s right! This here’s a patented Oatis hydraulic ascender, powered by a steam pump in a big machine room down in the sub-basement. She can lift a dozen ponies and their things to the top of this hotel and bring them back safely down to the lobby, or stop anyplace in between. All the big buildings in Manehattan have ascending rooms now, but the Wildhoof was the very first to get one! In Manehattan you don’t have to be a pegasus to feel like you’re on top of the world!”
“Amazing!” Rarity exclaimed. “Though it is a bit of a shame not to be able to see the world outside.”
“One day, I just know that towers of glass and metal are going to stretch all the way up to the clouds, and we’ll all ride in ascending rooms practically made of windows,” the bellhop exclaimed.
“Now that would be something to see ...”
“I’m gonna be a big part of that future, mark my words,” the bellhop continued. “Don't tell anypony, but I’ve got a workshop in town, and whenever I’m not here, I’m there working on my own version, just like this, but safer, faster, and without the need for a room-sized steam engine.”
“Your secret is safe with me, and I, for one, wish you only the best of luck,” Rarity said.
“Thanks, Miss! I’ve got a prototype already built. I just need to figure out how to market it!”
“I think y’all need a catchier name than ‘ascending room,’” Applejack noted. “Maybe, ‘up and down machine’ or ‘auto-climber.”
“Hm. I rather enjoy the sense of levitation one gets riding this,” Rarity mused. “Perhaps a levitator?”
“An elevator?” Applejack repeated. “I like it.”
“I said levi—actually, yours is more poetic.”
“Elevator! I’ve gotta remember that,” the bellhop said. “Thanks! You know, they say in Manehattan that any bellhop can become a businesspony, and any businesspony can become a poet. City of Dreams, that’s old Manehattan.”
“I like that thought very much. We’re all dreamers after our own fashion, I think,” Rarity mused.
“Myself, I’ve never had much time for dreamin’,” Applejack replied. “But I sure do hope your dreams all come true this week, Rare.”
“Oh, Applejack.” Rarity threw a foreleg over Applejack’s shoulder and pulled her close.
“Thirty-second floor!” the bellhop announced, just as the ascending room shuddered to a halt. “Number thirteen is this way.”
The hallway on the thirty-second floor was covered in a plush and intricately patterned carpet. predominantly purple in color, and the walls were painted cream with gold accents. Each heavy guestroom door had a brass knocker and a keyhole large enough for the heavy keys favored by earth ponies. Once the trio reached room thirty-two thirteen, Rarity removed one such key from the envelope she carried, unlocked the door, and then stepped inside. Applejack followed, and immediately found herself breathless.
The room was situated at the far side of the hotel, and in that direction there were still few buildings that approached the Wildhoof in height. Consequently, the view through the hotel room’s enormous picture window seemed to stretch for leagues, out toward the edge of Manehattan island and the harbor beyond. Applejack could see the great Colossus of Harmony standing there, her torch-bearing foreleg held aloft in a grand gesture of welcoming and friendship to all who chose to visit the city.
Some part of her— again, it had to be the Orange half— felt a surge of pride at the sight. She had to remind herself that this wasn’t her town, or her place. She was Applejack, just a farmer from Ponyville, and she was here for her friend Rarity.
“By Celestia! I—I scarcely know what to say! Will such wonders never cease?” Rarity dashed forward and nearly smushed her snout against the glass in her eagerness to take in the vista.
“It’s quite a sight alright,” Applejack agreed.
“That it is!” said the bellhop, as he finished removing the mares’ bags and suitcases from the luggage cart. “I was born in Hay’s Kitchen—that’s a rough neighborhood—and I never thought I’d get to see the city this way. Now I see it every day. City of Dreams, I tell you.”
"It is, isn't it?" Rarity spoke quietly, still gazing out at the view.
“Well, thanks for bringin’ our stuff up,” said Applejack, as the bellhop did not seem overly inclined to show himself out.
“Yes, we must freshen up a bit before finding something to eat, so if you’ll kindly excuse us now,” Rarity added, finally breaking away from the window.
“Alright then, I’ll be on my way! You know, I’m sure you’ve traveled a long way, so if you’d prefer to stay in this evening, the Wildhoof has room service that will bring you anything from the hotel restaurant, right here to your room on a silver platter. You can request anything from hay fries and bottled water to beluga lentils and a bottle of our best sauvignon blanc!”
“That’s mighty convenient!” Applejack declared. “Stayin’ right here and puttin’ my hooves up sounds like a good plan!”
The bellhop nodded. “Just ring the bell rope by the ascending room doors and somepony will come along in a jiffy to take your order. Oh, and if you do decide to go out, and you aren’t comfortable operating the ascending room by yourself, just pull that same bell rope and the staff pony who shows up will be able to help you get down to the lobby.”
“Thank you very much! Here’s a little something for your trouble.” Rarity located a few shining coins in her panni-purse and dropped them in a pocket of the bellhop’s uniform, while whispering something—a word of thanks, no doubt—in the stallion’s ear..
Fifty bits, Applejack noted. The price of five bushels of apples at the market rate. Someday, she would have to go the impolite route and just flat out ask how Rarity managed to never want for money, nor hesitate to give it away. She hadn't been born wealthy, that much Applejack knew.
“Golly! Thanks a million for your generosity, miss! If there’s anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, just ask after Rocky. Now, you two lovebirds go and have a beautiful week here in Manehattan!”
With that, the bellhop disappeared through the door and let it swing closed behind him.
Applejack turned to Rarity, who looked back at her in stunned silence.
"Uh, lovebirds?" Applejack asked. Both mares then looked to the center of the room, and realized that only one Princess-sized bed stood there, covered in thick blankets and invitingly fluffy white pillows.
“I swear I sent a letter requesting a room with two beds,” Rarity muttered at last. “I’m not at all sure how this happened.”
Applejack could only chuckle.
“Oh yes, laugh it up, why don’t you? I shall go downstairs and speak to a manager at once. We shall have this straightened out.”
“Every room is booked, remember? And every hotel ‘round here too.”
“Nonsense. There must be a reasonable solution.”
Applejack could only think of one. “Mm-hmm. Sure enough. We bunk together, just like when we were littl’uns, and—heh heh—at Twilight’s place that one time.”
“Oh,” Rarity began, then smiled brightly. “You’re absolutely right, Applejack. This bed can be no less than twice the size of Twilight’s little bed, and, anyway, it will be just like old times. This really is going to be such a wonderful week!”
“Gettin’ some grub would help kick it off in the best possible way,” Applejack noted, returning Rarity’s smile. “I sure did like the sound of that room service.”
“Agreed! And … oh my, look at this bathtub! It’s practically a lagoon!” Rarity disappeared into the bathroom. “Wa ha ha! I’ve never seen so many luxurious soaps and shampoos outside the spa!” She popped her head out to look at Applejack. “Say, I don’t suppose you would mind ordering dinner while I take this opportunity to get cleaned up?”
“I don’t know about that, given your track record with bathin’. Iffin I let you get in that bathtub, I won’t see you again ‘til tomorrow.”
Rarity pouted. “Oh please! I’m hungry too, you know. I’ll just be in for a little while, I promise!”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay, you get in the tub and I’ll get the grub.”
“And maybe a bottle of wine or two, mm? Shall we not celebrate here in the, ah, City of Dreams? You are on vacation.”
Applejack considered the request for a moment. This was a little bit like a vacation, and she ought not to dwell on her guilt about leaving the farm. Maybe a little drink would be nice. “Alright, but the wine goes on your tab.”
“I would not have it any other way! Now, maybe some bread and a nice salad for me, I think.”
Applejack walked out into the hallway and used her teeth to pull the bell cord. Sure enough, another nattily uniformed stallion soon appeared, and was only too happy to recommend the hotel’s special Wildhoof salad and the freshly baked bread. He appeared especially pleased to take Applejack’s order for a couple “nice bottles” of white wine. Her mission accomplished, Applejack then trotted back into the hotel room.
“Applejack darling?” Rarity called out as the hotel room door swung close.
“None other.”
“I feel badly for making you order dinner, and that you’re not enjoying this amazing bath.”
“You don’t need to feel bad about that,” Applejack replied, sitting down on the hotel bed. “I reckon I’m clean enough, and I am powerful hungry.”
“Are you absolutely certain?”
“No sweat.”
“No sweat? Ugh. I wish. I felt as though I was positively dripping by the time we arrived at the hotel. Levitation gets taxing after a while.”
Applejack smiled. “I thought pretty ponies like you never sweat.”
“Ha! Then all the time I spend and hard work I put into fooling the world is worth it. But honestly, dear, if you could see me after a full day running the boutique, and hours more working in my shop, well, “pretty” is not the word I would use.”
“I’ve seen you get your hooves dirty once or twice. The rest of you too. Looked real good from where I was standin’.”
All was silent for a moment, save faint splashing coming from the other room. Applejack wondered if she had said something wrong. She was pretty sure she'd said something wrong. Why in Celestia's name had she just told Rarity that she had been checking her out? She had definitely said something wrong.
Finally, Rarity spoke. “You’re a silly pony.”
“Who’s a silly pony?”
“You’re a silly pony, Applejack. And you’re making me blush. Well, I cannot see for certain, but I’m surely blushing.”
It was Applejack’s turn to be silent for a moment, before responding, “I am a silly pony, I reckon. Sorry, Rare.”
What had she done? She would need to find a way to make this right. For tonight, at least, she foresaw that would probably involve sleeping on the floor. Maybe the best thing to do was to simply ignore it. Maybe neither of them would ever have to bring it up again. Of course, that went against Applejack's instinct to confront any problem, but this ...
Another long pause ensued before Rarity spoke again. "No, don't be sorry ..."
At that moment, there was a knock at the door, which came as welcome relief. If Applejack was lucky she and Rarity would never have to revisit that awkward, offhoof remark.
Opening the door, Applejack was surprised to find a jacketed stallion with a rolling cart, atop which sat a silver ice bucket in which two bottles of white wine were chilling, a pair of empty wine glasses, a water pitcher and glasses, a basket of hot and delicious-smelling bread covered with cloth, a little jar filled with butter, cloth napkins and silver utensils, and a pair of domed silver platters, presumably covering up a pair of Wildhoof salads. To Applejack’s surprise, there was also a bowl filled with bright red strawberries, and a pot of cream. The waiter pushed the cart inside the room.
“Your dinner and wine, mademoiselle.”
“That was right quick.”
“We strive for alacrity.”
“Well … thanks!”
The waiter made no motion to leave.
“Oh, right,” Applejack with her own bags for a moment before grabbing three silver two bit pieces with her teeth, then dropped them in the stallion’s jacket pocket. She thought he frowned just a bit before turning to leave. She wondered if Rocky the bellhop had told this waiter about Rarity’s tip.
In any case, dinner was here, and some unexpected fresh berries for dessert as well.
“So ... soup’s on!” Applejack shouted. “Hope y’all haven’t gotten waterlogged in there.”
“Not at all. Actually, I feel wonderful—rejuvenated and refreshed.” Rarity stepped out of the bathroom wearing her mane wrapped in a spring green towel that perched behind her horn. Her purple tail cascaded straight down to the floor, rather than being bound up into the usual impossibly bouncy curls, and it was the first time in a long while that Applejack could recall seeing her without makeup. She was beautiful. Applejack just had to remember not to tell her that.
“And still hungry, I hope.”
“Famished.”
“Well, looks we got a dandy spread here. Hotel folks even sent up some cream and fresh strawberries.”
Rarity laughed lightly. “Oh, that nice bellhop must have told the kitchen about our blossoming romance. Or perhaps somepony who likes only the freshest strawberries tipped him off to that fact when she gave him his tip. Perhaps both are true! In any even, this is proof yet again that a little generosity seldom goes unrewarded. And now, down to business: shall we sit by the window and enjoy the colors of the sunset while we dine?”
Without being prompted, Rarity used her magic to maneuver a pair of chairs and a round table over to the window, then lifted everything from the serving cart and set the table for dinner. Not for the first time, Applejack reflected on how convenient it was to have a unicorn around.
“Apples, celery, walnuts, and a mayo dressing—so that’s what a Wildhoof salad is. Well, can’t argue with those ingredients,” Applejack noted after removing the silver domed lids from the chilled dinner plates.
“Mm, and that bread smells divine,” Rarity replied, as she poured two healthy measures of white wine. The two mares clinked their glasses together as well as possible, given that one of them was holding hers with her teeth, and drank.
“So, here we are,” Applejack said, looking out the window. Gas lamps were being lit all over the city, and the cold water in the harbor reflected the vivid orange of the setting sun. “We made it.”
“I’ll never be able to thank you enough for coming with me. I can only imagine how daunting a prospect the next few days would feel without you.”
“I keep thinkin’ that you’d be better off with Fluttershy, who modeled, or Twilight, who grew up in high circles and commands respect, or even Rainbow Dash, who is an attention-getter anywhere she goes. I’m not sure how I’m gonna help you.”
“Fluttershy hated modeling. Bringing a Princess here would look like I was trying to intimidate everypony else and force them into approving my work. And Rainbow Dash? Honestly, Applejack, really?”
“Heh. When you put it that way …”
“Sometimes I wonder if you really understand …” Rarity trailed off, then sighed deeply. “I wonder if you know how I feel about you. When you are with me, I feel good. I am comfortable, and assured, because I know that you are here to steady me when I lose my balance. I know that you are good, always, and that is priceless. I’ve been happy and at ease since we worked out our troubles, in a way I’d not been since we were young and carefree and arguing about what our cutie marks might turn out to be.”
Applejack sipped her wine in silence, unsure how to respond. Eventually, Rarity turned away to watch the sunset and eat her dinner.
“Don’t know how steady I really am,” Applejack eventually said. “You know how I ran off to find myself here in the city, before chickenin’ out. And I don’t think I ever told you this, but there was a long time where all I wanted was to leave home and find my fame and fortune as a rodeo pony, putting on shows in front of crowds like Calamity Mane, Pony Bill Lily, and Whinny Oakley. I might have done it, ‘cept Big Mac is hopeless at the negotiatin’ table. He’s always been a little too nice. Even with Granny watchin’ out for him, he’d lose the farm in six months without me. Even so, when I went off Dodge Junction, well, there was a part of me that relished it.”
“You didn’t run away, though, and what you did in Dodge Junction, you did that for your family, and for Ponyville.”
“Yeah, I never followed through, but I guess deep down I’ve always wanted a taste of what you have. You know, freedom, independence, to be my own mare, and to make a livin’ not just from dirt and sweat like any pony can do, but from bein’ somepony special.”
“Special? Allow me to ask, where did you your parents and grandparents sell Sweet Apple Acres apples, Applejack?”
“Huh, seems like an odd question, but I'll bite. They sold at the market square, and to the grocers in town, I suppose. Oh, and Pa started shipping a few cartloads out toward Hoofington.”
“And where do you sell your products now?”
“Well, Ponyville. Apples in Canterlot and Hoofington. Cider in Canterlot, Hoofington, and Fillydelphia. Zap apple jam all over Equestria, I reckon.”
“You did that,” Rarity went on. “It’s because of you that ponies line up across town on the first day of cider season. It’s not something anypony could do, because even your own family would never have achieved those things without you. You admitted yourself that the farm would fail in your absence. It’s because of what’s in here,” Rarity levitated her napkin and tapped Applejack in the chest, “and here,” she followed up with a soft caress of Applejack’s forehead, which caused her to shudder. “So you see, you are a very special pony, and lest you protest, please, do not make me call you silly again. There is nopony I would rather have with me.”
“Dadburnit Rare! Why do you keep sayin’ these things?” Applejack permitted herself a small smile. “Ponyville’s already got Rainbow Dash. There ain’t room enough for two heads swelled that big.”
“I’m just being honest. Surely you of all ponies can respect that.”
“I respect you.”
Rarity did not respond immediately, but instead seemed to stare off into space with a faraway look in her eyes. Finally, she sighed. "While I was bathing, you said I looked good."
Applejack froze, as if she had been suddenly caught in a floodlight. She had hoped Rarity had forgotten what she had said, that it would disappear into their past.
"Yep," Applejack said, unable to protest a simple fact. "I guess I did."
"Did you know that I find you beautiful?" Rarity asked, focusing her gaze and completely surprising Applejack. "Did you know that you inspire me? I've wanted to tell you that for a long time, and I might as well do it now so we can both claim to have said something awkward. Perhaps we can cancel each other out. So, then, did you know?"
"No, Rare," Applejack replied truthfully. "I didn't."
“Yes, well, it's true, and has been for as long as I can remember. Here, have a strawberry.” Rarity magically lifted a bright red berry from its bowl, dipped it in cream, and popped it in Applejack’s mouth before she had time to react. Reflexively, Applejack bit down. The strawberry was ripe, sweet, and delicious, and the cream was thick and rich. Rarity was quick to dab at Applejack’s chin to catch a trickle of red juice.
Applejack realized her eyes were wide open, and she was staring intently, as if frozen, at Rarity’s face. The other mare was smiling. What was this? she wondered. This was moving beyond awkward, and into some strange and wholly unexpected realm.
“It’s good, but I can feed myself. We earth ponies can manage that much without magic.”
“I know. I just wanted to do it.”
“Well, uh, I can’t exactly return the favor.” Applejack raised a hoof to indicate her forehead, and the smooth coat where a horn was not.
“That’s okay. I’ll pretend this is from you.” Rarity dipped another strawberry in the pot of cream, and proceeded to bite off all but the leafy calyx. She never took her eyes off Applejack.
“Mm. Land sakes, you're pretty,” Applejack muttered, before coughing into a hoof and shaking her head. “Sorry. Where was I ... where I was goin’ with that ... was … I guess … I guess you must be fixin’ to model all them dresses up on stage this week. You ready for that?” She covered her embarrassment by hiding behind her wine glass and taking another long sip.
Applejack was well and truly confused, because it certainly seemed as if what this was, was flirting, and if there was ever to be flirting between she and Rarity, she would never in a thousand years have imagined that the unicorn would be the one to initiate it. It was impossible to believe, as much as Applejack may have wanted to believe it. And as much as she might have wanted to believe it, and that was, in this moment, quite a lot, she also feared it.
“Me? Oh, ha ha, Applejack, you are as bad as that clerk from the lobby. I shall be working with professionals who have dedicated their lives to modeling high fashion, who are renowned across Equestria for their beauty and grace.” Rarity sent another strawberry in Applejack’s direction. “For being so charitable with me.”
“Mm. That’s good. I’m just sayin’ that you could do it." Applejack was more or less committed at this point, so she decided to press ahead, come what may. "Look, I don’t care what you say; you’re the prettiest pony I ever saw.”
Rarity put down the strawberry that she was about to eat, and closed her eyes. The sun had fully set outside, and only the glow of a pair of gas sconces lit the hotel room. In the low light, Applejack thought she saw the barest hint of moisture dampen the white hairs below Rarity’s eyes.
“Do you mean that?” she asked, quietly. “Of course, you must. It is just so hard for me to believe, if only because I want to so much.”
“I do mean it,” Applejack whispered.
"Tell me," Rarity said. "Tell me what you think of me. Please."
“To me, you’ve always looked like somethin’ out of a dream, too perfect and beautiful to live in a place like Ponyville. I’ve … always felt that way.” Applejack got out of her chair and walked to the other side of the table. She raised her foreleg and gently touched Rarity’s chest. “But somehow you’re even more beautiful here.” She raised her hoof to Rarity’s forehead, between her ear and horn. “And here.”
Rarity stood up, took a step backward from the table, and shook her head. “No. I’m a terrible pony, Applejack. I’m so happy to have you here with me, and to be in this amazing place, and I’ve gotten carried away and I’m being ridiculous and I’m terrified that I’ve gone too far.”
“You ain't ridiculous, and you haven't.”
“Oh, but I just don’t want to do the wrong thing. I can’t bear the thought of breaking the most precious thing in my life. Not again.” Rarity looked away.
“I ain’t fragile,” Applejack breathed, though she wondered if it was true. She was half Orange, and in this city, maybe more than half.
"No," Rarity agreed. "You aren't. You're beautiful and so strong." Rarity turned back to look, blinking nervously. “Applejack … I … ”
“Have a strawberry, earth pony style.” Applejack leaned over and deftly plucked one from the bowl, keeping just a bit of stem and leaf in her teeth. She dipped it in the cream and then stood up straight. She was committed now. She had to be steady, and purposeful. If this ended poorly, it would lead to one very awkward vacation. Please, let it work.
Rarity’s eyes went wide, but she did not hesitate long. Keeping her gaze locked on Applejack’s, she leaned in until Applejack could feel her breath. Without making contact, Rarity bit down on the berry, then backed away.
Rarity swallowed. “I like the earth pony way even better, I think.”
“I was afraid I smelled too awful to make it fun. I missed out on a bath, you know.”
“You smell of earth and apples and all the comforts of home.” Rarity, eyes closed, moved forward abruptly, and in an instant her lips met Applejack’s own. A second later, she broke off the kiss. “And you taste like strawberries.”
Applejack sucked in a breath. “Are we doin’ this? Is this happenin’?” She was shaking, but she couldn't stop herself. Consarnit.
“I want this, Applejack. You must know how badly I want this.”
"I don't know," Applejack whispered. "Tell me."
"I want to hold you close, and drink you in, and make you a part of me," Rarity said breathlessly. "I want to know all of you."
Applejack leaned forward and kissed Rarity, and in that moment, she let her doubt slip away and abandoned introspection in favor of all the unnamed and indescribable sensations that go along with kissing—really kissing—a beautiful mare for the first time.
Rarity’s lips were soft and sweet, and she responded to Applejack’s advances with gentle pressure. Applejack could hardly remember the last time she’d been kissed like this. Maybe she never had. Definitely never, she decided, as she felt Rarity’s exploratory tongue. She gasped loudly, surprising even herself.
Suddenly, Applejack felt her entire body tingling pleasantly, and she realized that Rarity had enveloped her in the blue glow of her magic. To her surprise, she was soon floating above the hotel room floor.
She laughed brightly. “You’re stronger than you look, girl! Now what are you gonna do with me?”
“Mm, wouldn’t you like to know? Just wait.” Rarity looked up at Applejack’s floating form with a predatory smile.
Applejack felt herself moving, and soon found herself floating above the bed, whereupon Rarity let go of her magic and Applejack plopped down onto the covers. A second later, Rarity was there, on top of her, kissing her face, kissing her on the lips.
“Rare, wait, what are the girls gonna say?” Applejack muttered feebly.
“I don’t care. Do you care?”
Applejack thought for just one moment before Rarity nibbled her right ear, and a jolt of pleasure shocked her back into the here and now. “I reckon I don’t give a hoot.”
With the barest of efforts, she pushed back against Rarity and rolled her off and over, and just like that the tables were turned. Applejack ran a forehoof through Rarity’s mane, then kissed her above her eyelids, on her nose, and began working her way down the unicorn’s slender neck, eliciting a muted, but delighted, cry.
Rarity’s body was soft, but lean, and Applejack could feel muscles becoming taut and relaxing below the skin, as she traced her hooves across Rarity’s chest and kissed her belly. Rarity was breathing heavily now, almost panting in anticipation as Applejack followed a meandering path.
Applejack resisted the urge to race toward what she wanted, though the all-consuming thought of it threatened to overpower her mind and body. She forced herself to hold back. There was time enough to explore, and there were wonders to be discovered.
Applejack moved down Rarity’s hind leg, caressing the inside and then moving around to the trio of blue diamonds that was Rarity’s cutie mark. Even up close, the complex pattern on the unicorn's coat was flawless. Applejack kissed each gem in turn, then followed the gentle curve that took her up the other mare's leg and around her middle.
Applejack moved on, finding her way back around to Rarity’s belly, taking pleasure in her quiet whimpers coming faster and faster. Applejack did not linger there, for she could no longer resist the burning impulse that had spread throughout her body. She moved abruptly toward a new destination, and Rarity gasped, then cried out.
********************************
The next morning, Rarity had woken up to breakfast in bed for the first time her life. At least, it was the first time the breakfast delivered to her could truly be described as such, being not charred to ash or reduced to inedible and disturbingly bubbling goo. Sweetie Belle was not going to be getting a cutie mark in anything kitchen-related in this lifetime.
The breakfast gracing the elevated tray which now rested over Rarity’s midsection was nothing like her sister’s culinary misfires. A steaming and aromatic slice of mushroom and asparagus quiche occupied a plate in the center, around which were grouped a warm scone with raspberry jam and clotted cream, a small bowl of blackberries, a glass of fresh orange juice, a carafe of hot pressed coffee and a ceramic coffee cup emblazoned with the hotel’s name and colors.
The delightful breakfast was delivered by the hotel staff, of course, and wasn’t Applejack’s own cooking, but it was still a wonderful surprise. Rarity could quickly get used to room service.
She was also ready to admit that she had never felt quite so good upon waking up, especially after getting so few hours of actual sleep. Every hoof-length of her body still tingled from the memory of the preceding night. If she allowed herself to drift into fantasy, she could still feel the heat of Applejack’s body pressed against her.
It seemed like fantasy: like something too good to be true. Ever since they had mended their friendship, she had begun to see Applejack in a new light. She imagined resting in her strong embrace, and the feel of her mane and tail shining like spun strands of gold. Applejack may not have been of royal extraction, but she had all the pride and regal bearing of a Princess, and besides, Rarity had come to find that royalty was terribly overrated. Being with Applejack, on the other hand, was even better than she had dared imagined.
As Rarity continued attacking her breakfast with the ferocity of an athlete who had just completed an endurance race, she could hear Applejack whistling a happy tune in the bathroom, the melody just audible over the sound of running water. The farmer was finally getting around to enjoying a hot shower.
“Applejack, darling?” Rarity called out.
“I’m here,” came the reply from the bath.
“I’ve got to meet Hoity Toity in just a few hours, and then trot on over to the Princess Celestia Center for the Performing Arts to meet my models and do a fitting, then work out any other details that must be wrapped up before the show tomorrow. I expect it will be a full day.”
“So, that leaves time for a second helpin’ of you, right?”
Rarity laughed. “I should think you were already on to your fourth or fifth helping. Tragically, I’m afraid all my available time this morning is going to be needed for primping and prepping. I merely wanted to let you know that you are more than welcome to accompany me, if you like.”
“That’s mighty kind of you, and I’ll be happy to go iffin’ you feel the need for backup. I was thinkin’ though, well, maybe I’d go see about reconnectin’ with my Aunt and Uncle Orange today, and then meet up with you tonight. Course, I’ll go if you need me, and there ain’t no question I’ll be there for you at the big showcase tomorrow.”
Rarity needed a moment to recover from her surprise before speaking. “I had thought you were not intending to pay your mother’s family a visit.”
“Yeah. I wasn’t, really. But, well, I don’t really know how to say this. Bein’ with you—it was amazin’...”
“Of course it was! But what does that have to do with your relatives?”
“Heh. Well, nothin’ directly. It’s more like I’ve had this hang-up for so long, about the Oranges, about bein’ half an Orange.”
Rarity heard the water shut-off, and then Applejack’s voice came through clearly. “I’d grown to hate that part of me—the Orange part. They were quitters. Ma just faded away and left us on account of she couldn’t take losin’ Pa, and I never forgave her for that. Her sister cut ties with the family without so much as an explanation. Never could understand those Oranges. Always seemed like they just wither away at the first sign of frost. All I ever got was the bitter peel, and none of the sweetness.”
Applejack sighed. “So anyhow, I never really felt comfortable in my own coat—you see what color it is. Just like Ma. Just like Auntie and Uncle. I know I ain’t like them—I’m as dependable a pony as you’re gonna find—but still. And you, Rare ... for the first time in my life you made me feel good about this orange coat of mine."
"I adore your coat," Rarity said softly. "It suits you like no other could."
“Thanks. You made me feel pretty. And maybe bein’ with as classy a gal as any Orange could ever hope to be, but as tough and strong and hardworking as any Apple, maybe that’s what I needed to see that good can come from their world and my world. You told me back in Ponyville that the generous thing to do would be to give 'em a second chance, and when I woke up this morning I felt like ... well, I’d like to go talk to ‘em at least, and find out why they gave up on me. Maybe I’ll find some good there too. Maybe somethin’s finally ripe for the pickin’.”
Applejack stepped out of the bathroom, a large towel wrapped around her midsection. Her mane and tail, freed from the hair ties the farmer normally used to keep them out of the way, flowed over her body like waterfalls of molten gold. To Rarity, she looked glorious. Rarity was already across the room and planting a kiss on Applejack’s mouth before the other could get more than a few steps further into the room.
“I think you give me too much credit, but I’ll take it anyway. Of course you should go see your family. Give them a chance, and in any event, I hope you get everything you need from the experience, and wish you all the best.”
“Thanks, Rare. I’ll be back here in the room by Ponyville suppertime. ‘Sides, I figure you got it covered today, seein’ as you’ll be in good hooves with Hoity Toity. I’ll be a rotten apple if that prissy old fop isn’t in love with every hair on your sweet little body.”
“Mm, well, I’m fairly certain his interest in me is strictly professional. That's obvious enough, I should think."
“Well, that goes without sayin’. I just mean he cares about you, and wants you to succeed. You’re his rising star. That’s why he got you this showcase, right?”
“Well, yes,” Rarity admitted. “I do think he sees me as a bit of a protégé. Did you know that when he broke into the scene in Canterlot, he was one of the first earth pony designers in the city? I think he sees a parallel with me, any my efforts to break into a business with an intense popular disdain for anything that smacks of provincial or small-town.”
“You never let nothin’ stop you, and I’m pretty sure you ain’t gonna start now. Go give ‘em Tartarus, Sugarcube.”
“I plan to,” Rarity replied. “But first, I must gird myself in the common armor of my enterprise, and, as you know, such armoring takes time.”
Applejack cocked her head. “You mean puttin’ on makeup.”
“I most certainly do.” Rarity walked into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. She looked just as disheveled as she expected, but mercifully there was no puffiness under her eyelids. “And I must shower, and brush my coat, and curl my mane and tail, and otherwise make myself presentable. Unless you care to stick around and serve as my makeup squire, feel free to get an early start on your own plans. That way, you won’t have to be out and about too late. We wouldn’t want that: I’ve got plans for you.”
Rarity looked to Applejack and winked.
Applejack narrowed her eyes. “What kind of ‘plans’?”
“The kind that remain a secret until the right moment.”
“Well, I reckon they’re the good kind of plans.”
“Mm. If recent history is any indication, I am confident you will think so.”
As she was continuing to inspect herself in the mirror, Rarity saw Applejack walking toward her out of the corner of her eye, and steadied herself for whatever the other mare might do. Still, she could not suppress a shiver and a pleasant little purr when Applejack lightly bit down on the base of her left ear.
“I reckon you’ve been makin’ a lot of plans lately. Maybe it’s my turn.”
“Ah. Ahem.” Rarity struggled to concentrate on speaking, even as her body wanted to squirm and buck. “I’m sure our plans … are not … mutually exclusive …”
“You sure you can’t cut your beautification a little short this mornin’?” Applejack lightly clamped down on Rarity’s other ear.
“Mm. I’m sure … but perhaps …”
“Yeah?”
“Perhaps I can be fashionably late to my other engagements.”
“Now that’s what I call a plan.”
With a smile, Rarity allowed herself to be led back to the bedroom.
********************************
Rarity had double- and triple-checked her appearance before meeting Hoity Toity at the cafe. The fact that he hadn’t remarked on it either meant that all was well, or she had missed something ghastly and he was simply too polite to remark on it. In any event, the fashion guru with the bouffant white mane and the ever-present purple sunglasses did not appear ashamed to have her trot along beside him, and Rarity supposed that was a clear enough indication that she had nothing to worry about.
“You don’t look worried enough, dear,” Hoity Toity said, as they approached the tall front doors of the Princess Celestia Center for the Performing Arts, colloquially known by locals as CeCe.
Rarity, taken aback, realized she had stopped and had to gallop a few beats to catch up to Hoity. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I mean you look almost blasé. Too happy. Not terrified. I feel it is my duty to remind you that everyone you are about to meet is a terrible pony. They are cutthroat, cruel, vindictive, petty, jealous, paranoid, and just plain mean. They are going to do everything in their power to tear you to shreds. The models will mock your weight and body, the other designers will joke about your Ponyville origins, and the fashion editors will not so much as glance in your direction until you’ve already wowed them, which they will make almost impossible.”
Rarity swallowed. “You invited me here. You must have believed I could handle this.”
Hoity Toity nodded. “And I still do. After all, I survived my first Fashion Week. Then again, I was sleeping with one of the more famous designers from Canterlot at the time, which may have helped. Given that I’m the only famous designer from Canterlot here today, I don’t see how that’s going to work out for you.”
Rarity chuckled. “Well, no. I’m not really your type, am I? Given that, I think a quick briefing is in order. Who should I take special pains to watch out for?”
At that moment, the front doors swung upon and a slender white unicorn mare in black sunglasses and a slim-fitting leopard print dress walked out, followed by an entourage of young and beautiful stallions and mares. Rarity recognized Winter Vogue, editor of Belle Jument, instantly.
“Her, for one,” Hoity Toity whispered.
“Hoity Toity, you crusty, musty old thing. Back again, all the way from the capital, and what’s this, it seems you’ve brought a big, puffy marshmallow for our lunch. How thoughtful! Unfortunately, unlike some ponies, I’m dieting.”
Rarity fought to keep her mouth closed. Being called a giant marshmallow by the most famous fashion editor in Equestria was not exactly how she had hoped to kick off Fashion Week.
“Winter,” Hoity said curtly, trotting forward and embracing the mare. “This is Rarity, the most talented up-and-comer within a hundred leagues of Canterlot.”
“Oh, so this is the girl from Ponyville.” Winter looked appraisingly at Rarity and shrugged. “Best of luck to you, Miss Rarity, but I’ll believe a country tartlet can become a real fashion designer when I see some proof of it.”
“And proof you shall have, my dear,” Hoity Toity responded quickly, as if to prevent Rarity from saying something she might regret.
There was no response from the fashion editor beyond a smirk, so Rarity followed Hoity Toity and Winter Vogue into the main hall of the performing arts center, which had been converted for Fashion Week, and which was currently dominated by a fifty pony length catwalk that ran from a stage with cream-colored curtains nearly to the other end of the hall.
Small groups of ponies, every one of them beautiful, or at least beautifully attired, milled about here and there. Rarity could see models practicing their prancing, designers frantically pinning things to dressforms, and a few fashion journalists and photographers stalking the largely empty space, jotting down notes and taking candid pictures.
Rarity recognized a few of them among the more famous models and designers. Nopony could mistake designers as well-known as Autumn Dream or Moulin Bleu, or the famous fashion writer Silky Foulard. On the far side of the space, Photo Finish was snapping pictures of a group of the most renowned models in Equestria: there was Candy Proffered, and Twiggly Stick, and Imare, and Rarity could even make Fleur de Lis among them. She would have to say hello to the lithe pink unicorn, and find out if their mutual dear friend Fancypants was here in the city as well. For now, though, there were vital tasks that needed to be accomplished.
Hoity Toity introduced Rarity to a handsome young stallion who was his contact at the modeling agency, and then both stallions took her to meet the trio of mares who would be wearing her dresses. This would be Rarity’s only opportunity to get to know them. She would spend the next several hours altering and pinning her dresses, which had been carted over to the hall by Fashion Week staff, to fit them. Of course, Rarity had received measurements in advance, so the dresses should already have been close to perfect. Close, however, would satisfy nopony, and Rarity least of all.
Rarity and Hoity Toity soon found the three models clustered by the catwalk, chatting and drinking from tall glasses of water with lemon slices. Stringbean and Holly Berry were earth ponies, both with light green manes and tails. Stringbean’s coat was a dusty yellow, and Holly’s was rose-colored. Wafer Thin was a unicorn, light blue in color with light gray mane and tail. After being left alone with the three to become better acquainted, Rarity quickly ascertained that they were all, as promised, terrible.
“Good morning. I feel ever so fortunate to have three such lovely models for my show,” Rarity offered by way of introduction.
“Yeah. Every now and then we get asked to take on these charity cases,” said Stringbean, shrugging.
“Charity? Um, we’re getting paid for this,” Wafer Thin chimed in. “Right?”
“Duh! She means sometimes we have to model for like, fashion school students or whatever she is. It’s like charity.” Holly Berry glared at her friend.
“Oh, I assure you that am no student,” Rarity said. “My designs are very popular in Canterlot, not to mention back home in Ponyville.”
“Ponyville? Is that, like, a real place?” Holly asked. “That’s like calling a town Pony … um … town.”
“Wait, Ponyville is that trendy neighborhood in Fillydelphia, isn’t it? With all the new restaurants?” asked Stringbean.
“Ah, Ponyville is a lovely, pleasant small town south of Canterlot,” Rarity said patiently. “It is but a short train ride, or an invigorating trot, from the capital. Really, we are almost a suburb.”
"Ugh, suburbs!” Wafer Thing exclaimed.
“Pearl necklaces and yoga pants!” Stringbean declared with distaste.
“Lily Pool Lister flower print dresses!” Holly shouted in despair.
“Baggy jeans!” all three mares shouted together.
Rarity instantly thought of her mother, who of course regularly wore all of those things. “Ah ha ha, yes. Indeed, suburban fashions can be somewhat less than bleeding edge on occasion. I assure you, however, that my own designs are chic and sophisticated.”
“Whatever,” Stringbean said dismissively. “I modeled a Luxe Paddock original last month that ended up being worn at Princess Twilight Sparkle’s coronation ... after being taken up about ten sizes!” The three models giggled at that. “Now that was fashion.”
Rarity bit her tongue. That dress was the most hideous article of clothing she had seen in years, and it had taken every ounce of strength she had not to tackle Twilight to the ground and tear it from her body, or alternatively, gouge out her own eyes so that she was no longer forced to gaze upon such an insult to good taste. These models were not only rude, but their knowledge of fashion apparently consisted entirely of name-dropping. Fine, she could do this their way.
“You know, I am very close personal friends with Fleur de Lis. Have you met her?” Rarity asked. “I could introduce you.”
“That tramp? Um, yeah!” Holly Berry replied. “She, like, stole a magazine cover from me last month.”
“Fleur de Lis is, like, the most famous model in Equestria, so I’m pretty sure you weren’t competing with her,” Stringbean said.
“She’s pretty,” added Wafer Thin, who was staring vacantly off into the distance.
“Very pretty,” Rarity agreed, still trying to be companionable.
“Heh heh. Yeah, you must look pretty funny standing next to somepony like her!”
Rarity applied a forehoof directly to her forehead. She could already tell this was only going to go downhill from here.
********************************
Six hours later, Rarity was feeling more nervous than ever about the fashion showcase. The models had complained about everything, had offered a multitude of suggestions about improving their outfits, and had all but assured Rarity that everything she had designed would be ridiculed, because country ponies could never produce genuine high fashion. Even though the three were obviously clueless about design, Rarity could not help but begin to second guess herself.
Maybe they were right that hat brims more than six hooves wide were out of favor this season. What if it really was true that Winter Vogue hated the color yellow? What if this was all hopeless, and Rarity was doomed to a life of obscurity back in Ponyville?
She was a Canterlot pony, a traveler, a mingler bar excellence, a society mare who schmoozed with Princesses and princes, who counted Fancypants and Sapphire Shores among her close friends. For that matter, she was bosom friends with Princess Twilight Sparkle! She deserved to succeed here, and if that meant she had to compromise a few of her designs, and present herself in a way that was slightly less than authentic in order to give these city fashion ponies what they wanted, then maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe she could sacrifice her ideal on the altar of popularity, if only for one day.
But if she did that, Rarity wondered, where would the compromises end? She had already lied and misrepresented herself in the notes she had submitted about her line, to be printed in tomorrow's program. And what if she was compromising herself for nothing? Back home, Applejack had instantly seen through the flimsy story she had hastily concocted about her line, after she had realized that "being herself" and "staying true to her roots" were the last things that would foster her success here. She could only hope the ponies in the audience here were less perceptive, and more suggestible. Otherwise, she would be laughed out of the city, and that would be the end of her dreams of being a designer with national scope.
Applejack would tell her that her dream was for her vision to be applauded all over Equestria, not some altered version of it redesigned and repackaged to give the critics exactly what they wanted, even if it required Rarity to disown anything herself that might seem unrefined or unsavory, even if those were important parts of her identity and personal style. Applejack would tell her that anything less than honest success was failure. Hadn't she begged Applejack to accompany her for just this purpose, to save her from her ambition? But how could she jeopardize her future, her dreams?
Sometimes, Rarity thought everything would have been much easier if the moonbound forces of darkness had succeeded in using her to usher in nightmare kingdom of evil. At least then she would have clarity of purpose, and really, she had looked good as a powerful harbinger of unending night. It would have been either a sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare, Rarity thought idly. Finally, she decided that it was a sure sign of exhaustion that she was contemplating whether eternal darkness might have been preferable to the pressures of participating in a fashion show.
At this point, all that enabled Rarity to put one hoof forward after the next was the knowledge that she had a blissful evening alone with Applejack ahead of her. Accordingly, her distress upon arriving at the hotel room and finding herself very much alone was such that the resulting noise brought no fewer than three hotel staff members to her door, inquiring as to the health of the room's occupants.
It was nearly seven o’clock, which was past what would be considered the normal hour for Ponyville families to have supper, and therefore, past the time Applejack had promised to return to the room. After allowing herself a long moment of melodramatic wailing, followed by melodramatic sniffling, Rarity decided would just have to wait, and she busied herself with going over her notes and plans for the showcase. Unfortunately, time seemed to be passing with excruciating lethargy.
Eventually, the clock read eight o’clock, and Applejack was still not home. Obviously, the encounter with her aunt and uncle had gone either very well, or very poorly, and Applejack was still embroiled in the aftermath. Rarity supposed she should be happy for Applejack for confronting her fears and her past, but she didn’t have to be happy about her own lonely predicament. If Applejack didn’t return soon, she might not be able to stop herself from taking drastic measures, like ordering an entire box of chocolates and eating every one herself.
Rarity managed to gather herself and hold out still longer, until nine thirty came around and she decided she could no longer pretend that something was not amiss. Applejack had said herself that she was the most dependable of ponies, and it was true. She would not simply disappear without so much as sending a note to the hotel’s front desk about her whereabouts, certainly not after promising to be here. Rarity decided to search the city.
The obvious place to start a search was at the home of Applejack’s Aunt and Uncle Orange, as, after all, that was where Applejack had said she was going. It was soon apparent that Applejack had not exaggerated in describing their notoriety and importance, as it seemed everypony knew the building where Valencia Orange and her husband lived when staying in Manehattan. The front desk clerk was more than happy to direct a doorpony to hail a cab to send Rarity on her way.
What the clerk could not promise was that anypony would be home, as the Oranges were notorious and celebrated world travelers, nor could he promise that she would be able to obtain an audience with such famously private ponies. Rarity did not bother to point out that there was little that could impede her when she was truly determined, and that she was truly determined to find Applejack before the night was over. Instead, she politely thanked the clerk and hopped into the first available taxicab. Flashing a few bits was enough to send the driver accelerating into a vigorous gallop;.
As her taxi stopped in front of a large, ornate five story apartment building in the best part of Old Town Manehattan, Rarity felt hope that her journey was already over spring to life within her: she could see a warm glow coming from the upper story windows, and had been informed that the entire top floor of the building was the Oranges’ penthouse apartment. With any luck, Applejack was here, and her search would prove to have been a quick and easy one.
She stepped down onto the street and made her away to the front of the cab, where she thanked the harnessed driver and dropped her fare, plus a generous tip, into his basket. Then, she stepped up onto the sidewalk and made her way to the front door of the building, where an imposing square-jawed pegasus stood, resplendent in a dapper red uniform with gold trim. The doorpony looked like must have spent time in the Guard, and from his rather dour expression, Rarity doubted she would have an easy time charming her way inside. She decided that the forthright approach was most likely to bear fruit in this case.
“Excuse me sir,” Rarity began, addressing the big stallion with as much confidence as she could muster. “My name is Rarity, and I would like to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Orange. This matter concerns their niece, Applejack.”
“I’ve never heard of any niece named Applejack,” the stallion rumbled. “Listen, Miss, I’m not sure what you’re angle is, but I can’t allow solicitors inside.”
“Ah.” This was not good. If Applejack was not here, then Rarity had no idea where to go looking. “So, just to be clear, you did not see a mare, about my age, with an orange coat and blond mane come to call on the Oranges?”
“Wait …” the stallion hesitated. “Hair tied back? Freckles on her face? One of those crazy cowpony hats?”
“Yes!” Rarity exclaimed, practically jumping for joy. “Is she inside?”
The stallion shook his head. “Sorry, no. It must have been seven or eight hours ago now, but I remember she walked up to the door, stood here for—I dunno, a long time, with this distant look on her face. I was going to shoo her away when she finally just trotted off on her own. Are you telling me that pony was Mrs. and Mr. Orange’s niece?”
“Yes, I most certainly am. She is a friend a mine, and I’m concerned about her whereabouts and well-being. Even if she is not here, I would like to speak with her Aunt and Uncle, in the hope they can shed some light on where she might have gone.”
“Well, I can’t promise anything,” the stallion replied. “But I’ll ring up there and try to at least get you a chance to say your piece.”
Rarity pensively watched and waited as the stallion walked back inside the building’s large sheltered entryway and proceeded to pull a metal lever embedded in the wall. Rarity thought she could hear a bell tinkling somewhere far away, and shortly thereafter the tinny sound of a male voice could be heard coming from a metal cone, shaped something like the horn of a gramophone, which protruded from the wall next to the bell lever.
“Hello? Do we have an unexpected guest?”
“Good evening Mr. Orange,” the doorpony said. “I’ve got a Miss … sorry.”
“Rarity!”
“A Miss Rarity here, inquiring about a pony named Applejack. She says this pony is your niece.”
The voice did not reply immediately. First, there was a moment of complete silence, and then Rarity thought she could hear the faint sounds of conversation coming through the sound tube. It sounded as though there was at least one female voice engaged in rapid conversation with Mr. Orange.
“Please pardon the delay,” the male voice finally said. “I shall be downstairs to escort Miss Rarity momentarily.”
“That’s not necessar—” The pegasus was quickly cut off.
“I’ll be down, Mr. Lock.”
The doorpony turned to Rarity. “Well, this is interesting. The Oranges never have unexpected guests over, and they sure don’t let strangers in uninvited. Until now, I suppose. In any event, I hope you find your friend.”
Rarity thanked the doorpony. A moment later, the front door opened and a stallion emerged. He was distinguished-looking, with a close-cropped bright green mane and a light orange coat over which he wore a tailored jacket. He was perhaps slightly older than Rarity’s own father, but bore a tired expression that aged him beyond his years.
“Good evening, Miss,” the stallion began, his Old Town accent coming through strong even in a three-word introduction. “I am Hamlin Orange. You say you are a friend of my niece, Applejack?” He spoke hurriedly, almost excitedly, when mentioning Applejack.
“We are very dear friends indeed,” Rarity replied. “I apologize for intruding, especially at this unpardonably late hour, but I needed urgently to speak with you. We, that is, Applejack and I, have been staying in a hotel here in Manehattan, and Applejack informed me early this morning that she planned to see you and your wife today. I have not seen nor heard from her since, even though she had promised to meet me back at the hotel hours ago. She did not even leave a note, which is very unlike her. Eventually, I took it upon myself to call on you, and find out whether she was here, and if not, whether you could help me find her. If I’m to be fully honest, I’m a bit concerned, or even more than a bit.”
“I’m afraid we have not seen Applejack,” Hamlin replied, his wavering tone betraying his surprise. “But please, come with me. We can discuss all of this upstairs in the company of my wife.”
The stallion beckoned Rarity to follow, and so she did, up several flights of stairs to the building’s penthouse suite. On the other side of a heavy door was a surprisingly contemporary home, with light-colored painted walls and a distinct lack of the heavy, dark wood accents so common in elegant Manehattan living spaces. In fact, the apartment was distinguishable from the interior of any average home in Ponyville mainly by the spaciousness of the rooms and the impeccably tasteful, designer furnishings. On her way to a sitting room filled with plush furniture, Rarity saw a library so full of books that they had overflowed their shelves and now covered the table and chairs in the space, and a salon with a beautiful grand piano at its center. In Rarity's opinion, the apartment was pleasant mix of luxurious and lived-in.
Hamlin invited Rarity to have a seat on a large sofa upholstered in white linen, and then disappeared into another area of the apartment. A few moments later, he re-entered with an elegant older mare by his side, her coat a pale pastel orange and her mane and tail a much more vivid shade of the citrus color. Mrs. Orange’s mane was layered atop her head in an elaborate style that had been very much in fashion ten years ago, and was still considered to exemplify good taste among the older society set. Rarity stood to greet the new arrival.
“Please, have a seat, my dear,” the mare said. “As you may have gathered, I am Valencia Orange. Applejack is my niece, though it has been quite some time since Hamlin or I have seen her.”
Rarity sat back down as the other ponies found places in wingback chairs facing the sofa. “I am Rarity. It is a pleasure to meet you in pony, Valencia, though I wish it were not under such trying circumstances.”
Valencia nodded. “Hamlin and I did not even know Applejack was here in the city. If we had known, we surely would have tried to reach out to her. What is she doing in Manehattan, if I might ask? Did she travel here to visit you?”
Rarity was surprised that the Oranges seemed so interested, and that Valencia’s face mirrored the concern she knew she herself displayed. The way Applejack told the story, her aunt and uncle had taken no interest in her whatsoever after she first left Manehattan, and most likely had not spared so much as a thought since.
“No. Like your niece, I live in Ponyville, and I’ve been close friends with Applejack from the time we were kindergarten schoolfillies. We both came to Manehattan together for Fashion Week. I’m a designer, you see.”
The two Oranges looked at one another. “A designer? Surely our Applejack can’t be working in fashion,” Valencia said. “She was pining for her family farm from the moment she first crossed our threshold.”
“Oh no, no, no. I practically had to pry her away from Sweet Apple Acres in order to convince her to accompany me on this trip. No, Applejack is here to support me during my showcase tomorrow, as a good friend.”
The two older ponies smiled at Rarity’s description. “I know …” Hamlin’s voice faltered. “I know that you are looking for her, and obviously we are not much help to you, but would it trouble you overly to spare a few moments to fill us in, just a little, on the details of our niece’s life? We have missed her dreadfully since she left us.”
“After she returned to Ponyville, Applejack never answered our letters,” Valencia went on. “All our support checks were returned. Eventually, we gave up on corresponding, and decided that Applejack would reach out to us when she was ready. But she never has.”
Rarity could see tears brimming under the mare’s eyes, and she struggled to square all of this with what Applejack had told her. “I’m sorry,” she began, “but from what I’ve heard, your family and Applejack’s were not getting along at all. She told me you never wrote to her after she last left your company.”
At that, Valencia and Hamlin sat bolt upright, and their eyes opened wide as if shocked. “This is her doing. I had thought our issues with the Apple family were resolved when Applejack came to stay here,” Hamlin finally muttered.
“Apparently not,” Valencia said, before turning to address Rarity. “If you like, I would give you the short version of the story of the ugly state of affairs between the Apples and the Oranges. In the country they might call something of this sort a ‘feud,’ though I prefer ‘vehement disagreement.’”
“I would like to hear it,” Rarity answered.
Valencia nodded and turned to her husband. “Hamlin dear, can you summon Roquefort and have him bring us all a spot of tea, and some cookies?”
The stallion stood up, nodded to his wife, and left the room.
“As you must know, Applejack’s mother was my sister,” Valencia began. “We were daughters of the original Manehattan branch of the Oranges, one of the first families to settle in what is now Manehattan. In fact, the city was first called Orange Town, if you can believe it, which is why ponies often call it ‘The Big Orange’ today.
"Oh, I should mention, as an aside, that my husband is of the Trottingham Oranges, so any blood relation there is far removed and ancient. I admit that our relationship is not entirely dissimilar to the Apple practice of uniting distant branches of the family through marriage to keep the line unified and the cutie marks consistent, but I assure you I do truly love my husband. In that, at least, I was lucky.”
“Understood, and far be it from me to pass judgment on family traditions,” Rarity noted, though privately she found the whole idea of trying to create a genetic destiny for an entire family more than a little distasteful. Nevertheless, the fact that Apples and Oranges all seemed to end up with the “desired” cutie marks seemed a testament to the effectiveness of the strategy. On the other hoof, maybe being raised into the family business created the desire that led to the marks. In any event, the whole “nature vs. nurture” debate vis-à-vis cutie marks was not going to be resolved anytime soon.
“Ahem. Thank you. As I was saying, the Manehattan Oranges grew wealthy as the city itself grew and prospered, and so it came to pass that my sister and I became poised to inherit a sizeable fortune. Unfortunately for my sister, our parents expected us to marry within the elite circle in which we lived. Our match was to be found among the wealthy old families of Manehattan, Baltimare, or Trottingham—the first great port cities where we old merchants built our fame and our fortunes—or nowhere at all. When my sister fell in love with a handsome stallion from Ponyville, a farmer of modest means no less, she was ordered to break off the relationship or she would be disinherited. Instead of calling things off, she and the stallion eloped, and went to live on his family’s farm.”
“Which left you as the sole heir to the family fortune?” Rarity guessed.
“That’s right. But I was more jealous of my sister than she of me, I think. You see, I may have disapproved of their pairing initially, but it quickly became impossible to deny that my sister and her husband truly loved each other. The marriage was a happy one, and they produced beautiful, healthy foals.” Valencia bowed her head and looked away. “That is one thing that has never been possible for my husband and me, and I loved her children as if they were my own.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’ve accepted it. But given my circumstances, it became my fervent hope that I could become a doting aunt, and spend as much time as life allowed with my niece and nephew. We even offered my sister her share of the inheritance, after our parents were gone and the money passed to me. Unfortunately, my sister’s husband and his mother recalled all too well the cruel words of my parents and my family, and, I can only assume, out of stubborn pride they refused to accept any help. We were barely tolerated by the Apple family when we visited, when Applejack and her brother were still just tiny foals, and the Apples never once visited us in Manehattan, even though they have family of their own living here.”
“But Applejack did live with you, for a time,” Rarity pointed out.
At that point, Hamlin and a dark gray unicorn in a butler’s uniform returned to the sitting room with a silver tea tray on which rested beautiful china tea service and a plate of cookies. The male Orange retook his seat after ensuring that everyone was provided for.
“Yes,” Valencia responded, her voice quavering almost imperceptibly. “After … after my sister was gone, and the children were left alone, we offered to take them in. We would have adopted them, and raised them as our own. We could have given them every advantage, every opportunity that our comfortable positions allowed. Their grandmother refused to send the youngest, but the older two were afforded the choice. Applejack decided to live with us.”
Rarity took a long sip of tea to hide her expression. She knew better than anypony save Applejack why the other had gone to Manehattan. Not only had she lost her parents in such a short span, but she had also lost her best friend after the fire at the boutique. Without her parents, Rarity, or even a cutie mark to guide her, Applejack had felt like she had nothing left binding her to Ponyville, and no idea where her destiny lay. It would be a decade before Rarity and Applejack would repair most of what was damaged at that tumultuous time, and of course some losses could never be recovered.
“But she’s told me that she left after several months,” Rarity noted. “Why did Applejack decide to go back to Ponyville, given everything you could provide here?”
“It was our fault,” Valencia replied, sniffling as a tear rolled down her cheek. “We thought we were prepared, that we knew what was best for her, but we were wrong.”
“We thrust her into the life of a young Manehattan socialite, without regard for her own wants and needs. We failed to respect the fact that she was a farmer from Ponyville, that she was raised in the fields and rolling hills of the country, and that was all she had ever known,” said Hamlin. "We thoughtlessly devalued her life experience, through arrogance and ignorance."
“She was alienated and alone,” Valencia added, “and everything we did to try to bring light and joy to her life ended up leaving her feeling more isolated, because this place and our lifestyle were so foreign to her. We failed her in every way, except, I hope, in showing her that we loved her. We were so oblivious that it actually came as a surprise to us when she decided to leave, and return to Ponyville, even though nothing could have been more obvious, in retrospect.”
Hamlin spoke next. “We didn't expect that she would never respond to our letters, nor that that would be the last we would see of our nieces and nephew. It was hard to come to terms with it, but we eventually gave up and attempted to move on. It has been … difficult, and oftentimes very lonely.”
Rarity was silent for a long moment as she attempted to digest what she learned. The Oranges had not cut ties: rather, it appeared as though a failure of understanding between the proud, hardworking Apple family and the good-hearted but unrelatable Oranges had led to unnecessary years of silence and separation.
“Knowing Applejack and her family as I do, I can only guess that your letters and any money you attempted to send were misinterpreted as unwanted and unsolicited charity. “And I am certain that emotions were raw after the passing of Applejack’s parents, and in light of her mother’s disinheritance. I can tell you that Applejack would be fortunate, and I dare say happy, to know you, and I am truly sorry that you and the Apples lost touch so completely. What a tragedy that is.”
Aunt Valencia was crying openly now, and Rarity set down her tea, walked over to her, and laid a forehoof on the older mare’s shoulder “When we find Applejack, I will make sure that she has the chance to get to know you properly again.”
“Thank you, Rarity,” said Hamlin. “We should like to spend more time getting to know her and her friends as well. I can tell that Applejack is lucky to count a pony like you among her circle, and please, don’t be a stranger when you visit Manehattan. I only wish we could help you in finding our niece.”
Rarity stood up. “Thank you. Before I go galloping off without a destination in mind, is there anyplace you can think of where Applejack might be? Any place that was special to her when she lived in Manehattan?”
The Oranges looked thoughtful as Valencia dabbed at her eyes with a napkin and Hamlin contemplatively sipped his tea. Before either of them could respond, there came a muffled crash from somewhere not too distant. All three ponies stood up immediately, and the unicorn butler, Roquefort, trotted back into the room brandishing what looked like a heavy rolling pin that he held magically suspended in front of him.
“What in Celestia’s name was that?” asked Hamlin.
“It sounded as though it came from the terrace, sir,” the butler stated. “I shall go have a look.”
“I’ll accompany you,” said Hamlin.
“We’ll all go,” Valencia said. “Miss Rarity and I won’t be left alone while you two go off investigating.”
Rarity didn’t feel that it would be appropriate to recite a litany of the terribly dangerous things she had experienced and overcome, nor that she was not particularly concerned about a mere bump in the night. To proclaim, “I was once abducted by Diamond Dogs,” or “I was brainwashed by Discord,” or “I was abducted by the Nightmare spirits and taken to the moon to become a living manifestation of evil bent on creating and ruling an empire of darkness,” would seem rather like boasting. She remained silent.
“Let’s go then,” said Hamlin, and alongside Roquefort, led the way to a pair of large glass doors that opened out onto an impressively large, but almost pitch dark, terrace. Rarity could see shadowy shapes looming overhead and all around, and realized that she was surrounded by large plants and even trees. The entire terrace, as large as the apartment itself, was apparently maintained as a lush garden oasis in the middle of Manehattan.
“I can’t see anything,” Valencia complained.
“Allow me,” Roquefort spoke up, and his horn began to glow with yellow light. The effectiveness of the butler’s light spell, however, was limited, and only illuminated a few square pony-lengths directly around him. Most unicorns simply did not invest the effort required to become truly proficient at dazzle-magic. Fortunately, one of the party had put in the necessary work.
Rarity coughed demurely. “Pardon me, but I might be able assist.”
The Oranges nodded in unison, and Rarity focused her magic. A bright blue point of light appeared at the tip of her horn, and flared outward, further and brighter, until the entire terrace was lit as if it was daylight under an azure sun. Rarity had to hold a forehoof beneath her horn and over her eyes in order to see past the brightness, and when she did, it was immediately clear what the cause of the noise had been.
Improbably, Applejack was there, half-hidden behind a slender tree trunk, standing next to a broken and toppled terra cotta planter that had held a small fern.
“Oh,” Applejack said quietly. “Howdy Rarity. Howdy, uh, everypony. Auntie. Uncle. Sorry for … enterin’ and breakin’, I guess.”
“Applejack!” Rarity rushed forward to embrace the other mare, who blinked and had to look away from the glow of Rarity’s horn. “I was so worried! But whatever are you doing here?”
Applejack stepped out from behind the tree where she was almost—but not quite—hiding. “I could ask you the same thing,” she said. “But yeah, I reckon I owe everypony an explanation, especially in case anypony’s inclined to call the police on me.”
“In Celestia’s name, can that really be our little Applejack?” Valencia asked, not moving from her position next to her husband. “You look … you’re a beautiful grown mare!”
“And you don’t have to worry about the police, Applejack,” Hamlin added. “We’re thrilled to see you, though we’d love to hear the story behind what you are doing hiding in the dark in our terrace garden.”
“Yeah.” Applejack hung her head and turned away. “Well, it’s a mite embarrassin’. I came to call this mornin’, but it turned out I just didn’t have the courage to ask after y’all. See, I’ve been spendin’ a lot of time thinkin’ about Ma lately, and how I’ve always had this anger in the back of my mind, about how she left us for no good reason. I thought of y’all, and it seemed like you just gave up on me too.”
“But that’s not true, Applejack!” Rarity threw a foreleg over Applejack’s shoulder and dragged her around to face the group. “Your Aunt and Uncle love you very much, and they wrote for quite some time after you left here. They wrote before too, and tried to offer your family help. There was a disagreement between the adults to which you were never privy, but your Aunt and Uncle Orange never stopped thinking about you, and caring for you."
Applejack looked up at the faces of her Aunt and Uncle, who smiled back at her. “That right?”
“It’s true,” Valencia said. “Hardly a day has gone by where we didn’t think of you, and miss you.”
Applejack looked thoughtful for a moment, and slid a hoof along the brim of her hat, before nodding. “Rarity told me to be generous with second chances, and forgiveness, but it sounds like I'm the one who needs forgivin'. Though I guess I ain’t entirely surprised it was you who got cut off, given how stubborn and prideful we Apples can be. Auntie, Uncle, I’m powerful sorry about what happened. I love you too."
"Aww!" Rarity exclaimed, as Hamlin and Valencia rushed forward to embrace Applejack.
When the farmer finally extricated herself, Applejack spoke again. "You know, even without goin’ in to see y'all this mornin’, I learned an awful lot about Oranges today.”
“What do you mean?” Rarity asked.
Applejack abruptly reared back on her hind legs, and threw her forelegs up into the air. “Look!” she exclaimed. “Do you see ‘em, Rare? Look at the trees!”
Rarity looked for a long moment, and finally saw. Every tree in the garden was an orange tree, and every one of them bore fruit.
“Orange trees!” Applejack continued. “Big, hardy, tough-lookin’ orange trees, growin’ right here in Manehattan, where even with a hundred weather teams the winters are longer and colder than anything we get down in Ponyville.”
“Those are satsumas,” Hamlin said. “They’re one of the most cold-tolerant varieties of orange.”
“Your mother and I planted them as seedlings, no more than a year before she died,” Valencia. “They’re all grown up now.”
“Orange trees,” Applejack repeated, her eyes watering. “I never knew they could grow here. But here they are, big and beautiful. I must have eaten a dozen of those little oranges, each sweeter than the last. I was wrong, Rare. Orange trees ain’t weak, I just didn’t understand ‘em. They need to be planted by ponies who do understand. In the right place, with the right ponies, they can grow up to rival any apple tree. Maybe that tree my Ma planted never thrived because of me—because I never really understood what it means to be an Orange, but I could have, Rare.”
“You could have been raised here, as a different Applejack, you mean.”
“My Auntie and Uncle Orange—pardon me for speakin’ like you ain’t there—they didn’t make things difficult for me on purpose. I know that now. They were just tryin’ to raise a filly who wasn’t the filly livin’ with them, because I was planted as an Apple. I would have withered here. Never thrived. Fact is, I was witherin’. But if I’d been planted an Orange …”
“You could have been a real Manehattan pony, through and through,” Hamlin concluded.
"Destiny is a funny thing that way, I reckon," Applejack replied.
“Can you ever forgive us for being so foolish, and selfish, that we never saw things from your perspective?" Hamlin asked. "We never understood what it meant to be from Ponyville, and to be an Apple. We only saw you as an Orange, as Mimosa’s daughter and Valencia’s niece.”
“Of course I can!” Applejack shouted, and again embraced her aunt and uncle. "Sounds like my own kin were stubborn as mules, and deserve a heap of any blame that’s to be passed around. I say we let bygones be bygones, and we start over fresh right here, right now.”
“Oh, dear Applejack!” Valencia exclaimed. “I’m so happy!”
“Rarity here deserves the manticore's share of the credit,” Applejack said. “She brought me here to Manehattan. She made everything possible.”
“That’s right!” Valencia said, smiling as brightly as the light from Rarity’s horn. “Well, come here, my dear! Don’t dawdle!”
Rarity happily trotted over and joined in the embrace, even as Hamlin pulled a reluctant Roquefort in as well.
Soon after that, it was jointly decided that the night, if not young, was not yet old, and this was a time for celebration. Hours later, in the middle of an energetic Losino salsa dance, Applejack spoke to Rarity.
“You know what’s funny, Rare. I’ve been thinkin’ about me, and you, and who we are, and I came ‘round to thinkin’ on this fashion show of yours, and the hard time you’re expectin’ on account of bein’ from Ponyville, and all the work you’re puttin’ in to show ‘em that you’re a citified pony of good taste like all the rest of ‘em.”
“Yes?” Rarity asked, as she allowed Applejack to twirl her around. “What’s funny about that?”
“It’s funny, because despite everything you’ve done to be a Canterlot fashion icon, despite every fancy ball and dinner with food I can’t pronounce, I think you’re as Ponyville as can be, and I mean that in the best possible way.”
Rarity looked askance, even as she swiveled her hips in time with the music playing over the gramophone. “I should hope so, though I admit I don’t understand your meaning. I may have been born in Ponyville, but as I am constantly reminding ponies, I am a Canterlot pony at heart.”
“Hear me out,” Applejack said, as she brought Rarity in close. “You’re generous. You’re true to your friends. You don’t hurt anypony else to get where you want to go, but you get there through honest hard work anyway. You love your friends and family even more than your career. There ain’t no other fashion designer in all of Equestria like that. I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is, you might be a fancy big city fashion pony at heart, but you’ve got the spirit of a Ponyville girl, and that sets you apart from all the rest.”
Rarity thought about what Applejack said, even as the music ended and she bowed politely before stepping away to check herself over in the powder room. There she saw, in the large mirror, a still-young mare with her mane wild and tousled from dancing, with beads of sweat on her forehead and makeup than was beginning to run.
She saw a beautiful, happy mare, born in Ponyville Hospital and raised in the sunlit home on Lily Pad Lane where her mother and grandmother first taught her to sew, by the lake shore where her father fished and the field where he taught her to run and catch a hoofball, and who met a filly named Applejack when she was just five.
She saw the greatest fashion designer in the nation of Equestria.
After a bit of touching up, Rarity was ready to rejoin the party, and she quickly found Applejack helping herself at the table of cheeses and fruits that Roquefort had hastily assembled. Rarity walked straight up to her. “It’s true, Applejack. I admit it. I’m a Ponyville pony, only more fabulous than I have any right to be.”
That earned her a peck on the lips.
“And purtier and classier than I have any right to be seen with.”
“Nonsense. Look at your Aunt and Uncle’s apartment. You belong to the highest echelon of refined society, whereas I am a merely an aspirational mare of the country.”
Rarity winked, and Applejack laughed. For the rest of the evening, and into the wee hours of the next day, Rarity of Ponyville and Applejack of the Manehattan Oranges danced, sang, laughed, and discovered who they really were.
********************************
The next morning, Rarity decided, upon waking up, that absolutely everything in her fashion showcase had to be changed.
Well, not quite everything—it would not be possible to change the fashions themselves. Rather, the presentation had to thrown out and planned anew. Success was all in the presentation, and Rarity had decided that she was going to put on her show, on her terms. She would not let expectations of others dictate her choices. For what was fashion, anyway, but an expression of individuality? It was important to remember that.
Most importantly, she had decided, was that she could no longer deny who she was. She thought she had learned her lesson about denying her roots long ago, but Applejack had opened her eyes to the fact that she was letting it happen again, and to the fact that being a Ponyville pony was a beautiful thing. If Rarity’s identity had grown and crystallized in Manehattan or Canterlot, would she have grown into the Bearer of the Element of Generosity?
She thought not. It was high time she publicly acknowledged how proud she was to be the kind of girl who enjoyed her mud mask at the spa every Friday afternoon, and who still followed hoofball and rooted for the Whinnyapolis Windigos with her father; the pony who could hold her own discussing the old masters in the Royal Gallery in Canterlot, and who had once been recruited by the University of Fillydelphia for her skill in track and field events. Well, she might still never tell Applejack and Rainbow Dash about that last fact, or they would never give her any peace.
However, the dramatic, last-second overhaul Rarity had planned was no simple matter, so she had set to work even before Princess Celestia began hauling the sun skyward. Sleep would have to be reserved for other ponies.
The first order of business was to trot downstairs and hoof over several notes to the night doorpony, with instructions to have them dispatched immediately by way of intracity pegasus courier. It was critical that Rarity’s notes reach their respective destinations as soon as possible, because if there was to be any hope of accomplishing everything Rarity wanted to do, she would need a lot of help. This all certainly would be a test of her long-standing theory that generosity tended to pay the greatest dividends in the most critical moments.
Next came the changes that needed to be made to the outfits, and for that, Rarity had to make her way downtown to CeCe, where they were being stored. She said hasty goodbyes to the Oranges and bid a temporary farewell to Applejack before starting on her way. By the time she arrived, other designers, who had shown up early as well, were frantically taking measurements from grumpy models quaffing coffee, and making their own alterations and adjustments. Rarity, on a different hoof, knew the measurements she needed from memory. Only that fact, and the judicious application of certain fabric spells, allowed her to make many rather drastic changes to the fit of her dresses on such short notice. When she was finished, she put every dress and its accompanying accessories in individual garment bags, and hung them on a wheeled clothes rack.
Rarity’s music program, which had been set for weeks, was also to be completely scrapped and replaced. On that account, it was fortuitous that Rarity counted the DJ in charge of the music program as a friend and longtime customer.
“Two Ponyville makin’ it big in the city. Who’d a thunk it?” Vinyl Scratch asked, as she trotted up to Rarity’s workstation and clapped her on the shoulder with a forehoof. “Got your note first thing this morning.”
Rarity stood and embraced the white coated unicorn mare with bright magenta eyes and an electric blue mane and tail. “Vinyl! What a pleasure to see you! I should have looked for you yesterday when I saw that you were overseeing the music.”
“Nah, I should have looked for you. We’re pals, and Celestia knows you’ve given me enough business over the years, even gettin’ me a gig for a royal wedding: I owe you somethin’ special on your big debut day here.”
“Well, can it be done?”
“Pshaw! Just ‘cos I make a living spinning the freshest tracks now doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the classics, and I still know my way around a pair of drumsticks. If my girl Rarity wants to set her showcase to an oldie, then I should be banished to Alfalfacratraz if I can’t make it happen.” Vinyl Scratch paused thoughtfully. “Actually, I happen to know that the Canterlot Chamber Orchestra is performing in Manehattan all week, and I’ve got an in. Heh! This is going to be totally rad!”
“Oh, thank you!” Rarity exclaimed. “I shall really owe you one for this.”
“Oh come on, I remember when I had just moved to Ponyville, and I didn’t know a single pony. All I had was a dream and a bad haircut. You took me in and let me chat you up all day, set me up with this sweet do that I'm still rockin', and helped me get in touch with the right ponies to launch my career. I can never pay that back.”
”You know, it seems like just yesterday I was still trying to sell my first dress, and getting by mainly as a hairdresser. I do miss all the great conversations, but I don’t miss having to sweep the boutique ten times a day.”
“Heh. Well, I’d better get galloping if I’m going to make this all happen in time. Plus, there are two showcases before yours that call for the standard magilectric synth and bass. Can't forget about those.”
“See you later, Vinyl, and thanks.”
Shortly after Vinyl Scratch departed, Applejack arrived, and the first thing she did was trot up to Rarity and discretely plant a kiss on her nose. She then opened up her saddlebags and set on the table before Rarity a whole carafe of coffee and a large cup, an oversized croissant, and a large bowl of fruit.
“Mornin’, Sugarcube. You left before breakfast.”
“Thank you,” Rarity said, immediately pouring her coffee and taking a sip. “You know, I could get used to you bringing me breakfast. This is twice in a row, now.”
“Oh yeah?” Applejack asked, grinning. “Think you could get used to wakin’ up when the rooster sees the sun every day? ‘Cos that’s when we have breakfast down on the farm.”
“Hm. On second thought, I’ll just stick to preparing my own morning meal.”
“Heh. Well, there’s always evenin’s. I figure you must want company, livin’ by yourself and all, and I do like to cook.”
“I rather like the sound of that.”
“Me too. I bet I got a hundred things for us to try.”
Rarity narrowed her gaze and smiled. “Mm-hmm.”
She did not fail to notice Applejack blush at that. “I was talkin ‘bout recipes.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Whatever.”
“You know, darling, I’m sure I’ve got at least that many things for us to try, and I’m not talking about recipes.” Rarity walked forward and purposely brushed up against Applejack’s body, and she could feel the other mare shudder involuntarily at the unexpected contact.
Applejack muttered something that sounded like “whoa, Nelly” under her breath.
“Mm-hm,” Rarity said, with finality. “Now, I’ve finished my work on the dresses, but I still have a few loose ends to tie up before the show.”
“Like what?” Applejack asked, shaking her head as if trying to clear out some cobwebs.
“I’ve got a few changes in mind regarding my team of models. Now, lets’ go find them, if they’ve even arrived yet.”
The first place to look was Rarity’s assigned dressing area, as in any event she and Applejack had to wheel the finished dresses there from the designers’ workspace. As it turned out, the models were very easy to find, as all three of them were lounging on sofas in the dressing area.
“Oh, there you are,” said Stringbean, as Rarity and Applejack pushed Rarity’s clothes rack into the dressing space. The other models stood with her. “You know, your showcase starts in like, an hour and a half. We thought maybe you chickened out, but I guess you’re here, so now we have to suck it up and throw on those country sack dresses you made. If you think it would make me look more authentic, I can chew a piece of straw as I prance down the catwalk.”
“Oh my Princess, Stringy!” Holly Berry exclaimed. “No she didn’t! She did! She actually brought a real live cowpony! Just look!”
Applejack was wearing for the occasion, in addition to her ever-present Stetson, a scarlet scarf around her neck, and a tailored denim vest Rarity had made for her. “Howdy,” she said, tipping her hat graciously.
“Ha ha!” Wafer Thin laughed. “'Howdy there, pardner!' I like your hat. Wait, you’re not a model are you? Are you prancing with us? You’re not, are you?”
“Ugh! Does she look like a model, Wafe?” Stringbean asked.
“Maybe like she ate a model!” Holly replied, laughing.
Applejack merely pursed her lips and stared the model down, and Holly quickly became silent.
“Um, so anyway, look, lady, we need to get paid, so just tell us where to—”
Alright, that’s it!” Rarity interrupted Stringbean. “That’s enough from you three. You are all petty and spiteful, and I’m almost certain you collectively know less about fashion than my little sister, who, judging by her sartorial work product, believes that ponies have either three or five legs. Oh, and before I forget, I was just stopping in to tell you that you’re all fired.”
“Um, what?” Stringbean asked indignantly. “You can’t fire us.”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure she can,” Wafer said. “She’s like, um, the designer, and she has all the clothes.”
“Can, and did. Now go take a class, or read a nonfiction book, or something.” Rarity waved a dismissive foreleg. “Go on! Shoo!”
The three models glared and Rarity, but inevitably they turned and walked away, snouts held high. At the same time, Rarity noticed another pony walking up to her, and she startled when she realized who it was.
“Nice work there, Marshmallow,” Winter Vogue said, a tiny, almost imperceptible smile on her face. “I still remember the first group of idiots I fired. Ah, those were good times. Good times. It’s just not the same after the first couple hundred. In any case, maybe I was a bit too quick to judge, and maybe you’ve got what it takes to make it in this industry after all.”
“I appreciate that, Ms. Vogue,” Rarity replied. “I intend to do my best today.”
“I’m sure you do. Of course, I do foresee a spot of trouble for you, given that you are now down three models.” Winter Vogue turned to look appraisingly at Applejack. “And while I admit that this phenomenally well-built specimen of an earth pony you have here is a better choice than any of those three, I should think you would need at least one more, no matter how quickly you unicorns can accomplish wardrobe changes.”
“Wait, what’d you call me?” Applejack asked, blinking. Neither Rarity nor Winter were inclined to answer her.
“I do have another, as yet undisclosed, model,” Rarity replied. “And furthermore, I shall go out on the catwalk myself, and so will my friend Applejack here. My designs are high fashion, but that does not mean they may only be worn by professional models. They speak to my own belief that everypony deserves the chance to feel beautiful and part of the avant-garde, whether they are a Princess or a peddler, a Manehattan fashion editor or a Ponyville mare who had never even visited the city before just this week.”
“Noble sentiments don’t often survive in the harsh reality of the fashion world, Miss Rarity, but I certainly wish you well. You’ve got moxie, as the fillies and colts said in my day.” Winter Vogue nodded once, then walked away.
“Uh, Rare, did you just sign me up to be a fashion model? Please tell me that ain’t what just happened.”
“Why, of course I did!” Rarity replied with a smile. “And before you give me the ‘I ain’t no showpony’ song and dance, remember that I know full well that you participate in the showponyship events at the Ponyville Rodeo every year, and you did the same thing in front of thousand ponies at the National Rodeo back in Canterlot. You are a natural performer.”
“But—”
“Why, this won’t even be your first fashion show.”
“Yeah, but the ...”
Rarity was glad to see her best pout was still a highly effective weapon, as Applejack’s objections trailed off.
“Aw, hayseed. Fine. I’ll do it for you, but I still think you might be askin’ for trouble. All the other designers are usin’ professionals.”
“And so is Rarity!”
Applejack and Rarity both turned as a new speaker approached them from behind. The dulcet voice belonged to an almost impossibly tall and slender unicorn mare with a light pink coat, pink mane and tail, and an unmistakable cutie mark.
“Fleur de Lis! You got my note!” Rarity exclaimed, before she and the famously beautiful model exchanged kisses on both cheeks.
“I did, and I’m absolutely tickled that you ask me to help you today! You’ve gone out of your way to take the train up to Canterlot to do a last minute fitting for me, what, three times now?”
“Four, actually.”
“Yes, four! So modeling for you is the least I can do.” Fleur finished.
“Well, all I can say is thank you. Oh, and I’d love to introduce you.” Rarity gestured to Applejack. “Fleur de Lis, Applejack.”
“Pleased to make your ... wait, Applejack?” Fleur de Lis’ face lit up. “I’ve heard all about you! Rarity speaks adoringly of you! What a pleasure this is to finally meet!”
“Um, charmed!” Applejack replied. She was too slow to react when Fleur de Lis moved in to kiss her cheeks, and Rarity tittered as Applejack simply stood stiffly and accepted the sudden smooching.
“Well then, shall we go over the show, and start trying on outfits?” Rarity asked. “We’ve only just over an hour remaining.”
Fleur de Lis and Applejack nodded their assent to this plan, but before any of them could so much as move, they were interrupted by yet another new arrival.
“Miss Rarity!” An eager-looking young stallion in a tan vest and newscolt cap trotted up. “There you are. I’ve finished installing it!”
“Hey!” Applejack exclaimed. “It’s that Rocky feller from the hotel! Call me a biscuit and slather me with turnip gravy! How many ponies did y’all call in on this, Rare?”
“Exactly those ponies whom I need for my showcase, dear, and no more,” Rarity replied. “And thank you for letting me use your elevator invention, Rocky.”
“Thank me? Thank you for letting me demonstrate my elevator in public! I’m just lucky I had today off work. Anyway, I’ll be ready whenever that unicorn with the crazy blue mane gives me my cue.”
“Perfect!”
“I hope so! See you later!” Rocky began trotting away. “City of Dreams, Miss Rarity. Don’t forget!”
Applejack shook her head. “Whoo-whee! I suppose that’s everypony?”
Rarity quickly glanced around. “Not quite everypony ... but I believe we are in the clear for now. I’ve brought twelve outfits today, so that will be four for each of us. We had best practice wearing them.”
“I’ve mastered the quick-change spell, so I can help you between prances down the catwalk,” Fleur said to Applejack.
“I’ve got a fair command of that one too,” Rarity said. “We should be fine on wardrobe changes, as long as we are all comfortable with the outfits. Hm, now where to begin?”
Rarity soon had the garment bags opened, and shortly thereafter was fully engaged in getting dressed, and in discussing logistics with Rarity and Fleur de Lis, such as the order in which they would take the catwalk, and how long they would have to switch outfits backstage.
Rarity's first outfit consisted of an audacious diaphanous sheer dress in light pink, coat-tight along her back and sides, with a slit cut for her tail, and covered in hundreds of circular clusters of tiny reddish-purple gemstones. A broad-brimmed pink hat was decorated with two enormous griffon wing feathers that had been dyed to match the gemstones.
So attired, Rarity was preparing to help her last-second models into their first outfits when yet another visitor popped into the dressing area unannounced.
“Whoa mama! Mm-mm! Miss Rar-i-tee is look-in’ good!” Sapphire Shores shouted as she boldly trotted into the dressing room with a bounce in her gait. “Love that fresh look on you!”
“Sapphire, darling!” It was still difficult for Rarity to believe that she had reached the point in her life where she felt comfortable enough to address a famous pop musician as "darling," but there it was, and she was certainly not above taking advantage if her friend and client just so happened to be in Manehattan for Fashion Week.
“In the flesh!” the tall, rangy mare with the bouncy blue mane and tail confirmed. “I got your note, and I just spoke with our mutual friend Miss Vinyl Scratch. Let me tell you what, filly, Sapphire Shores is psyched to help you out! I’ve owed you one big time ever since you took a midnight airship out to Baltimare and saved my tail, after those bozos at the aerodrome luggage check lost my entire concert wardrobe.”
“That was my pleasure! But thank you anyway, of course. So, I have to ask, do you know the song?”
Though Sapphire was a professional, Rarity still had to inquire. The fact that the song was still popular and universally known in Ponyville did not mean it was remembered elsewhere. After all, the song Rarity had requested was about Ponyville, and besides that, it was very old. Its heyday had passed when Rarity’s grandmother was a capering filly.
“Do I know the song? Me?” Sapphire Shores asked, throwing a hoof to her mouth in mock indignation. “Pony, please. I could croon that tune in the cradle. I was born to sing it!”
“That song? But aren’t you from—”
“Born to sing it, baby. I’m talkin’, like, spiritually, not geographically. Don’t question it.”
Rarity nodded. “Well, alright then. Thank you!”
“It’s just what friends do,” Sapphire Shores replied, already on her way out of the dressing room. “Oh, and your friend’s hat is tight! I went through a country western phase too, but that filly really pulls it off!”
After Sapphire Shores left, Applejack turned to Rarity with her brow creased and wearing a frown. “I don’t know what she’s talkin’ about. My hat fits perfectly.”
Rarity laughed. “It certainly does, darling.”
Sapphire Shores was the last pony to whom Rarity had dispatched a note that morning, which meant both that every unlikely ambition she had for the new and improved showcase was actually going to come to fruition, and finally, there were no more ponies to interrupt her preparation.
Rarity ran through everything with Fleur de Lis and Applejack, multiple times, until she was certain they understood. There was simply not enough time to fully prepare, so there were certain to be hitches in the production, but what Rarity planned would not require carefully timed choreography. Really, all that mattered was that the crowd see her work, and understand her message. As long as both of those things happened, Rarity could leave Manehattan with her head held high, no matter her critical reception.
By that time, the event staff had closed the backstage areas to the public, and Rarity could actually hear the faint thump of a bass drum, which meant that the showcases scheduled prior to hers had already started. She hurried to ensure that she and her models were properly dressed in their first outfits, and it came as no surprise when a pair of young stallions appeared a moment later to inform her that it was time for her group to get into position. Rarity and the others followed the stallions toward the staging area behind the big curtains at the end of the catwalk.
“I can’t believe I’m doin’ this,” Applejack grumbled. “The things I do for ...”
“For what?” Rarity asked, arching an eyebrow as she trotted along beside the other mare.
“For fashion,” Applejack replied sarcastically. Rarity smiled, and kept trotting along.
When Rarity and the others arrived behind the main curtain that led to the catwalk, Hoity Toity was there waiting for her.
“Rarity! And Ms. Fleur! And that fabulous young model from Ponyville you used in your very first show!” Hoity Toity kissed a forehoof of each mare in turn. “You all look simply gorgeous.”
“I’m sure Ms. Vogue told you I fired my original models, and you’ve come to test my sanity,” Rarity said, once introductions were out of the way.
“No, dear, not at all.” Hoity Toity shook his head. “I did speak with Winter, but I only came here to tell you to break a leg out there. Whatever you’re planning to do, I know it’s going to be fabulous.”
“It's certainly going to be something!”
“Perfect,” Hoity Toity declared. “Something is my favorite.”
At that moment, one of the staff stallions appeared to inform Rarity that it was time.
“Now, go on out there and show Equestria what we in the capital already know,” Hoity Toity said.
As the staff pony beckoned, Rarity gave each of Hoity Toity, Fleur de Lis, and Applejack a quick hug, and then it was time. For the start, she would be all on her own. Without allowing herself a moment for second guessing, Rarity trotted out through the opening hidden by the overlap of the heavy curtains, and onto the catwalk.
Instantly, she was blinded by a dozen flashbulbs popping off as soon as she stepped out into view of the audience. Rarity's immediate concern was getting her vision sorted out before she toppled off the edge of the catwalk. After the bright lights of the flashes faded, she saw that there was a wide stage just outside the curtain, for use in concerts, plays, operas, and other performances requiring such a setup. The catwalk was set up to branch straight out from the stage, at least fifty pony lengths, where it terminated in a square platform at least twice again as wide as the catwalk itself.
As Rarity walked down the catwalk, it was apparent to her and everypony else in attendance that something was different about this showcase. There was no music, for starters, and nopony knew quite how to react. Perhaps, Rarity thought, they wondered if there was some kind of technical problem. The only sounds that could be heard as Rarity pranced down the catwalk were the popping of flashbulbs, the clip-clop of Rarity's hooves, and the gentle swish of her dress.
By the time Rarity arrived at the platform at the end of the catwalk, she still had not heard a single reaction from the audience, as if they were waiting for some catalyst that would impel a collective response. They needed more, and Rarity was ready to give it to them.
“Hello everypony,” she began. “I am Rarity. As you’ve already noticed, my fashion showcase is going to be a bit different that what you are accustomed to. For one thing, I only started planning it this morning."
At that, she heard scattered laughter bubble up from the crowd.
"What I mean to say is, I was going to have my models prance out onto the catwalk to loud music and flashing lights, and so foist my designs upon the public, because that is simply what is done at Manehattan Fashion Week. But I am not from Manehattan, or Fillydelphia, or Trottingham, or Hoofington. I am not even from Canterlot, though that is the city next to my name on your programs. The truth is, I was born and raised in the little village of Ponyville, and I live and ply my trade there still.
“Fashion is no big business in Ponyville. On any given day, maybe five Ponyville ponies in a hundred even wear clothes. The fashion district of Ponyville consists entirely of my own shop. I had to look elsewhere for my customers, and I found them in Canterlot. In many ways, I found myself there too, as I fell in love with high society and the mores and etiquette of the capital. Canterlot is part of who I am.
“Ponyville, though, is in my blood, and it will be forever. It is my little hometown, with its gentle river, peaceful lakes, verdant parks, rich loamy soil, rolling hills, abundant orchards, and good, honest ponies. My home inspires me. It is Ponyville and the countryside where I grew up that inspired the dress I am wearing, and all of my designs today.
“Disregard everything in the program about my line, because the text I submitted there is a complete fabrication. The truth is that I did not base my designs on the colorful gemstones of the Crystal Empire, and my line is not really called ‘Crystal Couture.’ That is a lie I made up to seem as sophisticated as I felt I needed to be, because I lacked the courage of my convictions. The truth of the matter can be found in my sketchbooks and notes, where from the first day I started work on it, this line has been called ‘The Fruits of Their Labors.' It represents the year-round harvest of Ponyville. My own dress is based on the spring cherry harvest, and not on Princess Cadance’s Garnet Galleria, as I would have had you believe.
“Now, I shan’t say any more, for I wish to leave it to you all to draw your own conclusions. Should you wish to dismiss my work as simple, provincial fare, then that is your prerogative as experts in the field of fashion. If that is your verdict, than at least I will have been honest with you, and given my home the treatment it deserves."
Rarity paused. The crowd was still staring raptly, and if they were not yet cheering at least they were not actively jeering her. They sensed that more was coming, and of course, more was.
“Oh," Rarity began, "but I have gone on and on, and this is a fashion showcase, is it not? There should be music, and models, and hoopla, and, well, let’s just get on with the spectacle, shall we?”
Rarity turned and walked a few steps back onto the narrow catwalk itself before stopping. As she did so, there was a hiss of escaping air, and a murmur ran through the crowd as the entire platform at the end of the catwalk began to sink. Within seconds, there was a gaping hole in the floor, and only the fact that the entire length of the catwalk was roped off prevented curious onlookers from moving forward to peer inside.
At the same time, Rarity looked back at the curtain smiled as a dozen stallions and mares in matching pink bow ties, each bearing their own stringed instrument, emerged. Vinyl Scratch had come through again. The ponies of the Canterlot Chamber Orchestra moved to take up positions on each side of the stage flanking the catwalk.
Then, the platform, under which Rocky had installed his magnificent elevator, rose again, and this time it was occupied. Vinyl Scratch sat behind a beautiful drum set, and Rarity caught her smile and wave to the first chair cellist of the Chamber Orchestra, who returned the gesture. What caused the entire crowd to gasp, though, was surely the surprise appearance of Sapphire Shores standing beside the unicorn drummer, wearing a form-fitting black dress that sparkled with two thousand three hundred and fifty four tiny diamonds. Rarity knew, because she had painstakingly sewed each one of them in place.
“Hello everypony,” the singer spoke huskily. “My friend Rarity asked me to sing you an old song about a little place she loves very much. This is one my mama loved, and I’ll just bet your mamas and papas loved it too, and maybe you still remember it.”
At that, the still-shocked audience tentatively began to clap and stomp their hooves, the strings began to play, Vinyl Scratch kept rhythm on cymbals and snare, and one of the most famous singers in Equestria launched into her first ever public performance of “Little Ponyville.” From the first strains, Rarity was certain it was destined to become part of her standard repertoire of ballads.
The spires of Canterlot seem somehow drab and gray
The glories of old times, seem awfully far away
Rarity suddenly realized she was still standing on the catwalk, and had become so entranced by the spectacle unfolding around her that she had completely forgotten to walk the rest of the way back so that Applejack would have her cue to come out.
Fortunately, Applejack and Fleur de Lis must have puzzled out what was happening on their own, because Applejack appeared and began prancing down the catwalk wearing a flowing, multilayered, bright green ensemble that the program said was based on the Emerald Chalice of the Crystal Princess, but which was in truth inspired by the flavorful greens that were one of Ponyville's first springtime harvests.
I’ve been alone in Trottingham, forgotten in Manehattan
So I’m going on a hometown holiday
Hearing the song filled Rarity with forgotten memories of her grandmother, of humming this song to Sweetie Belle in her crib years ago, of her first school dance where she had thought it terribly silly to be playing something so old fashioned, but danced all the same because she loved it.
She was already looking ridiculous, simply standing there by herself, so she might as well indulge herself. Fleur de Lis and Applejack could handle the rest of the show. At least, Fleur would know what to do.
Rarity walked forward to stand next to Sapphire Shores, who smiled down at her, and then she began to sing, her airy soprano melding harmoniously with Sapphire's throaty contralto. The mares' voices rose and expanded together with the music to fill the building.
My home sweet home, little Ponyville
The hills and dales, they call to me
To see her fields and tidy farms, ponies chock-full of charms
The city lights are leagues away, but I don’t care
Joy surged through Rarity as she scanned the crowd, and saw familiar faces. Hoity Toity and Fancypants were there. Applejack’s Aunt and Uncle Orange had come. And there ... Rarity’s heart skipped a beat. At the back, in a clearing within the crowd, stood Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, Spike, and of course, darling Twilight Sparkle, Equestria’s newest Princess. They had all come to Manehattan for her.
Behind her, Rarity knew that Applejack and Fleur de Lis were giving it their all, traipsing up and down the catwalk in the dresses Rarity had made, because she heard the crowd voice its approval with each new style that appeared. Rarity continued to sing, with her voice and with her heart.
My love waits in little Ponyville
Beneath mountains, by Everfree
By the time Rarity and Sapphire Shores reaches the last lines of the final verse, it seemed that most of the audience had realized that they remembered the song, and as the orchestra’s strings and a hundred voices brought the Celestia Center to a soaring crescendo.
When I come home to you, dear Ponyville
The Princess will raise the sun for me.
At the end, the audience exploded with cheers and applause, which soon gave way to demands from various boutique and department store owners to sell Rarity’s designs in their shops, from journalists for interviews, and from potential customers for the opportunity to buy one of Rarity’s outfits.
“Thank you for interest, but I must decline all present offers,” Rarity shouted. “I’ve decided that my latest collection will be available only at my shop, the Carousel Boutique, in Ponyville. I do hope you will all visit!”
It was the right thing to do, Rarity told herself. This felt good.
Rarity noticed somepony move to stand beside her, and she saw that Applejack was there, her designer outfits discarded in favor of nothing more than her old hat, and beads of sweat on her forehead from the effort of prancing up and down the long catwalk in layers of heavy clothing.
Applejack smiled at her, radiant and joyful as a cloudless Ponyville dawn in the springtime, and just like that, Rarity was home.
THE END
Art by WhiteDiamonds
“Hold it!” Sapphire Shores shouted from her spot at the edge of the catwalk, her voice carrying above the din of applause. “This show ain’t over while I’ve still got one more number, and—uh oh—I think I'm feelin' the dreaded disco fever comin' on. There's only one cure: dance! So how about everypony gets on the floor and y'all start shakin' those hoove things?”
Even as Vinyl Scratch hit her snares and the violins in the chamber orchestra began to play an up-tempo melody, all the ponies in the audience reflexively turned to the royal pony in their midst, as if seeking permission.
“You heard the lady!” Twilight Sparkle shouted. “And you don’t need anypony’s permission to boogie!”
At that, a cheer rose from the crowd, and ponies all around began to get down.
“Shall we, darling?” Rarity asked with a smile, holding up a forehoof.
“We sure as sugar shall,” Applejack replied, and she bypassed Rarity’s hoof in order to sweep the other mare up onto two legs and place a foreleg around her midsection.
“This is the start of something wonderful, isn’t it?” Rarity asked, staring into Applejack’s green eyes.
“I reckon it is, Sugarcube,” Applejack replied, and she pulled Rarity in close for a kiss.
“Now dance with me,” Rarity demanded, and as Sapphire Shores belted her melody, Applejack acquiesced.
You can prance, feel alive, show the whole world you’ve arrived
See that mare, suited for success, diggin’ the dance Princess
It’s Fashion Week and the lights are bright
Everypony is feeling right
Feel the beat of that music, gettin’ in the groove
You’re ready to make your move ...
You're still young, gonna have your way
The time is right to go seize the day
Find the pony you’ve dreamed of, tell them how you feel
You’re in the mood to prance
And when you get the chance ...
You are the dance Princess, dressed to kill, all set to impress
Dance Princess, you’ve got style and you’ve got finesse
Oh yeah!
You can prance, feel alive, show the whole world you’ve arrived
Oh-oh-oh
See that mare, suited for success, diggin’ the dance Princess
You’ve got everything that you came here for
Now leave 'em behind while they yearn for more
You’re the popular pony, everyone should know
You’re in the mood to prance
And when you get the chance ...
You are the dance Princess, dressed to kill, all set to impress
Dance Princess, you’ve got style and you’ve got finesse
Oh yeah!
You can prance, feel alive, show the whole world you’ve arrived
Oh-oh-oh
See that mare, suited for success, diggin’ the dance Princess
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Author's Note
I hope you enjoyed this, my first ever (and perhaps only ever) full bore shipping story. It's a little silly, a little trashy, a little fabulous and a lot self-indulgent. I had a lot of fun with it, and of course I think any story that ends with an ABBA-lanche dance party must have something to recommend it.
Most importantly, this story is a birthday present dedicated to one of the dearest people I've met in this fandom, and who I consider a true, true friend. If she were a pony, she would be best pony. So in conclusion, Happy Birthday to you, dear friend, and may the Rarijack last forever!
