C'mon Rarity, Tell Us a Story...
It was another quiet night in Ponyville, the moon was shining, the stars were twinkling, and most ponies were drifting off into the warm embrace of Luna’s dreamscape. Most ponies, but not all.
“C’mon Sis… Pleeeease!” Sweetie Belle’s plea reached an ear shattering crescendo. The entirety of Carousel Boutique seemed to shake from the deafening blast of sound, and the serenity of the Ponyville night was shattered.
Rarity heaved an exasperated sigh and massaged the bridge of her snout with her hoof. “Alright, Alright.”
Sweetie Belle nudged her fellow Crusaders, “Toldja it would work!”
“Yeah, we didn’t doubt you,” Scootaloo deadpanned as she rubbed her ears, “What I said was ‘I don’t think you should give Rarity the full treatment this late at night.’”
“Well it worked, and I know Applebloom agreed with me,” Sweetie Belle replied with a pout.
“Whaaa? Ya’ll sayin’ somethin’?” Applebloom replied, holding a hoof to her ear.
“See, she agrees.” Sweetie Belle added with a sagely nod.
Scootaloo simply facehooved.
“Girls, please, if we are going to do this…” Rarity indicated the squishy guest bed with an outstretched hoof.
The three fillies dashed into the bed, lining up under the covers with wide eyes and expectant grins.
“Thank you, now what kind of story would you three like to hear?” Rarity asked as she sidled up to the edge of the bed. The unicorn pulled a chair to her with her magic and lowered herself into it with all of her usual grace.
“Something with adventure!” Scootaloo chirped.
“Somethin’ romantic!” Applebloom chimed in.
“Something with… Canternese inspired architecture!” Sweetie Belle added.
The other two fillies stared blankly at the young unicorn.
“What? You guys took good ones.” Sweetie Belle with another little pout.
Rarity allowed herself a warm chuckle, “Well I’m not too well versed in tales of adventure, but I might be able to oblige Applebloom’s request. Let’s see, how these usually start? Oh yes...”
Once upon a time, in a magical kingdom, there was a beautiful unicorn princess. She was renowned the kingdom over for her alabaster coat, luscious purple mane, bright expressive eyes, and refined manners. The entirety of the gentry sought her hoof in marriage, but alas she turned away all her suitors. She knew not why (for she had all she needed and all she had ever dreamed of) but she was a very sad princess, and in her lack of gaiety she could not possibly entertain the idea of marriage.
The unicorn would spend her days staring out the window of the exquisite tower within which her quarters were located and heave great sighs, for life and its many beautiful intricacies no longer appealed to her. She felt as though she was lost, adrift in a sea of courtly routine. Hers was a world of tortuous small talk and pleasant nothings.
Not even her famed skill in sewing brought her the pleasure it once had. The needle and thread that had once swam happily through fabric now lay deserted in a corner of her bedroom alongside half-completed dresses and disorderly piles of fabric. They were remnants of a happier epoch, when the electric thrill of inspiration flowed through her veins.
One day, as the deflated mare cast her gaze across the grounds of her family’s castle a strange sound met her ears. Somepony was whistling a soft melodious tune. The Princess’s mind latched onto the musical expression, holding tightly to it, hoping it could save her from her stupor. The melody itself was beautiful and yet rustic, like an unpolished gem. The Princess’s ears twitched, straining to catch every wonderful note. Then as suddenly as it had begun, the whistling ceased.
Desperate to discover the identity of the pony whose serenade had briefly lifted her haze, she cast her eyes about the grounds. Her frantic scanning, however, revealed nothing of note. No charming princes, gracious princesses, or gallant knights of the realm were hiding beneath her window. The only pony she could see was the hard working earth pony gardener, whose orange coat and blonde mane glistened with the sweat of a hard day’s labor.
The realization dawned slowly in the mind of the Princess. Could this commoner actually possess the secret to freeing her from the dungeon of joylessness that had become her life? She decided that commoner or no, she had to know if it was true.
“You there,” She called to the Gardener.
“Yes yer Highness?” The Gardener replied, her twanging accent betraying her low birth.
“Were you… Were just whistling a tune?” The Princess ventured cautiously.
“I was, yer Highness, I hope it didn't bother ya none.” The Gardener responded in an unsure tone. Indeed, she was right to be nervous, for many a gardener and servant had been dismissed on the whim of a dissatisfied noble.
The Princess chose her next words carefully. “Would you, if you please… continue?”
Though the Princess knew it was well within her rights as a noble to request next to anything of a servant, but the fluttering feeling in her chest made what was objectively a simple request feel as though she were asking something much more intimate of the Gardener.
“If ya’d like, ma’am.” The Gardener replied and once more began her tune.
The Princess sighed contentedly and rested her head against the window frame, loosing herself in the charming melody.
As the tune once again finished the Princess looked down at the earth pony once more, seeing not a simple gardener, but a means of salvation.
“Gardener, if you could, would you come back and whistle that tune again tomorrow?” The Princess asked, her eyes really truly sparkling with delight for the first time in ages.
“Don’t see why not,” the earth pony replied genially. “Glad ya enjoyed it so much.”
From then on, every day the Gardener would come to the Princess’s window and whistle her a little song. Before long the two began to talk and share with each other. The Gardener would speak of her siblings and ailing grandmother, and how she worked so hard to support them. Between her job and her family, the orange mare had never had time to find anypony with which to bond, nopony to listen to her worries or laugh with her at her joys.
The Princess, on the other hoof, would talk about all the silly little court rituals, and how she had say everything a certain way, and memorize the lineage of her house, and so on and so forth. To this the Gardener only laughed, and strangely enough the Princess found herself laughing too. Whenever the Gardener was around, the sadness that had so consumed her would abate. More than that, when the orange mare visited, the sadness was replaced by most wonderful feeling of warmth and contentment that the Princess had ever known.
Late one evening the Princess returned to her window to observe the stars in the sky, and was reminded of the little freckles that had been brushed across the snout of the Gardener. The thought made her blush, but it also made her happy. Then, quite unexpectedly, a little whistled tune reached her ears. She looked down to see the Gardener standing at the foot of her tower, a single white rose clutched in her teeth.
“Is… is that for me?” The Princess asked, both excited and frightened by the prospect.
The orange mare nodded, the dark of night was all that hid her blushing features.
The unicorn levitated the rose and inspected it carefully. It was unblemished and without flaw, to find such a rose, even among the royal gardens, would have required no small measure of effort. The unicorn felt a tear trickle down her cheek. She idly wiped it away with her hoof and beamed down at the other mare.
“Thank you, thank you so much,” The Princess called down to the Gardener. Suddenly an idea struck the noble unicorn, and she would not let it slip from her mind. “Wait there a moment please, if you would.”
The earth pony shifted her weight in her confusion, but did as she was requested.
Inside the tower a whirlwind of activity had been unleashed. Shears, fabric, tape, pins and, of course, needle and thread all flew about the room in a furious tempest. Before long the Princess reappeared at the window and levitated a small fabric object down to the Gardener.
The Gardener caught the object in her hooves and examined it. It took her a moment before she realized that she was looking at hand sewn fabric flower, made in an orange that matched her coat.
“I’m no earth pony… so growing one myself would be most out of the question…but I thought perhaps I could give you a flower too…” The Princess’s said, her voice brimming with emotion.
The Gardener looked to the Princess and gave a toothy grin, “Ah reckon it’ll do just fine, yer highness.”
Though to anyone else it may have seemed like lukewarm praise, the Princess knew better, she knew the Gardener better. Her heart melted, and as the two said goodnight, she knew once more that life could hold beauty and joy and wonder and every little thing that it had been missing until she heard the earth pony whistle her little song. She had found love, not in one of the suitors that had come to call on her, but in the form of a wonderful orange mare.
However with this realization came a new weighty sadness. How could they ever be together, the Gardener was a commoner, and not even a wealthy one at that. How could she ever gain the approval of her father, the King? But the Princess was clever and, more than that, she was driven.
One morning over breakfast, the Princess approached her father, “Father, may I beg an audience, for I am most troubled.”
The King smiled at his daughter and nodded, “Why yes of course, my darling daughter. Now what troubles you?”
The Princess imitated a face of concern and spoke very slowly, “Well, dear father, I have been meeting with a suitor.”
The King smiled more widely still, “So this is the cause of your renewed vigor, eh?” He was quite happy to finally hear that his daughter had been entertaining the thought of marriage.
“Yes, it is, but I am troubled, for I do not know if my suitor is wise enough, you see?” The Princess said, leading her father into her trap.
“Wise enough for my daughter…” The King placed a hoof to his chin in thought. “Yes I suppose any suitor should be wise, perhaps you should test this suitor.” The King slipped into deep thought once more. “Hmmm… yes, I have the perfect test; you bring this suitor before me and I shall administer Clover the Clever’s six questions!”
The alabaster mare smiled up at her father, “Do you think that would prove them worthy? Do I have your word?”
The King nodded, and the gesture held with it an imperial finality. “Any suitor capable of answering the questions is worthy beyond question, and will receive my approval. You have my word.”
The Princess beamed, for her plan had been an unmitigated success.
The next day, the Princess walked into her father’s court and in with her walked the Gardener.
“What is the meaning of this?” The King asked incredulously.
The Princess remained unflappable. “This is my suitor. Administer the questions, father.”
“This is the suitor? This mare? This earth pony? This…this… servant!?” The King’s face had gone momentarily purple with shock and rage, but still his daughter remained resolute.
“You said anypony capable answering the questions would receive your approval. Ask your questions father.”
The King rubbed a hoof to his forehead. On the one hoof, this mare had renewed his daughter’s spirit, on the other she was nothing more than a common earth pony mare. What would the court say when hearing of this scandal? Regardless of any of this, he had given his word, and to go back on it would be a violation of his honor that he would not tolerate.
“Alright, my little pony.” The King said, emerging from his contemplation. “Answer me these six questions for the hoof of my fair daughter: What is rounder than a ring? What is higher than the trees? What is worse than a mare’s curse? What is deeper than the sea? Which bird sings first, and which sings best? Where does the dew first fall?”
Now the Gardener may have lacked the formal schooling of the nobility, as well as much knowledge of their etiquette and customs, but she was by no means a fool. The orange mare stood for several moments in though before raising her eyes confidently to the king.
“The sphere of the planet is rounder than a ring. The kingdom of the pegasi is higher than any tree, ah’ve ever seen. Discord is worse than a mare’s curse, and Tartarus is fer sure deeper than the sea. The lark is the first ta sing, in these gardens at least, and fer mah bits the thrush sings best. As for where the dew first falls, well that’d be the earth.”
The King stood shocked. “Correct, all correct,” He managed, stunned by his own words. “You here by have my royal approval.”
The unicorn wrapped her hooves around the neck of the earth pony and pulled her close. The two stared at each other, mutual expressions of shock and unceasing mirth mirrored on each mare’s face. Then the two slowly pulled each other even closer, their lips parting ever so slightly….
“Ah hope ya know those fillies have been asleep for almost an hour now.”
Rarity jumped about a foot in the air, startled by the voice that had come from the doorway to the guest bedroom. She held a hoof to her heart and felt it pound against her ribcage. “Oh sweet Celestia, Applejack. Don’t do that.”
The orange mare chuckled, “Well ah just thought I’d come over and deliver Applebloom’s toothbrush. It seems our little crusader here thought having a sleep over meant leaving her hygiene at home.” She retrieved a little satchel from her saddlebags and placed it next to the bed which held the three sleeping fillies.
“Wait a second,” realization dawned on Rarity, “if you know how long they’ve been asleep…”
“Well, yeah, okay. Ah was listenin’ to your story. Some mush about a earth pony and a unicorn, was it?” Applejack said, unable to quite hide the blush creeping across her face.
“Mhmm,” Rarity said with a little grin, her own snowy features going a bit pink. “Would you like to see how it ends?”
Applejack smiled softly and simply nodded her approval.
The unicorn put her forelegs around the cowpony's neck and two shared a gentle kiss.
“Ah reckon, you forgot a pretty important part there, sugarcube.” Applejack whispered to her companion.
“Oh yes of course, darling. How could I forget?” The unicorn replied with look of utter contentment. “They both lived happily ever after.”
Author's Note
Well here's my freshman attempt at a little one-and-done RariJack story. Enjoy!