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It was a miracle that Twilight Sparkle had free time at all, but she was nothing if not exceptionally gifted at delegating. She joked on a few occasions that she should’ve been called the Princess of Delegation, but that never got many laughs. After years of carefully forming committees and appointing representatives, there was just enough time in Twilight’s schedule to allow for a night off. So, Twilight figured, how better to spend it than at a party?
Unfortunately, this was not the kind Twilight still pictured when she thought “party,” with balloons and streamers and cake and friends, no. This was the sort of party with wine and quiet chatter and a dense crowd you’d have to wade through to get anywhere. To be honest, she’d already forgotten whose house (scratch that, mansion) this was.
The ballroom was huge, and packed with ponies in suits and dresses milling about. A giant crystalline chandelier hung from the high ceiling, casting a warm glow throughout the entire room. At the far end, on a stage, a band played a piece from a classical symphony, slow and steady enough that it faded into the background.
Twilight held a glass of wine in her magical grasp. She’d only taken a few sips from it, and she hardly enjoyed the taste, but she’d long since learned that if you weren’t at least holding a drink, then ponies would take that as an invitation to offer you one and proceed to talk at length until something interrupted.
Why did she even accept the invitation? Appearances, she supposed. That’s what ponies did at parties like this, keep up appearances. It was nice to get out of the castle for a bit. There was always the chance it’d be worthwhile.
She wished she could enjoy meeting new ponies and making new friends, but ruling an entire kingdom made that extremely difficult. It was already hard enough before she’d taken the throne. It would turn out that holding a drink was not enough to stop ponies from approaching you when you were the ruler of the kingdom, and every pony had all sorts of questions lined up for you. That was the other purpose of parties like this, really; strategic intermingling.
Like now, for example, she had been flagged down by a young stallion. Twilight answered as politely and honestly as she could, but maintaining focus was a challenge. Soon her eyes began to wander and lose themselves in the crowd, disappearing into the sway of black suits and colorful dresses.
What was it that Twilight had seen?
“I was wondering if you have any plans for the Del Caballo river? The flooding in the spring has gotten a lot worse in the last two years…” The young stallion continued on.
Regrettably, and though it was a habit she’d sworn she’d beaten, Twilight found herself replying with, “Uh-huh”s and “Yeah”s.
“It’s just that, it’s getting really close to my family’s farm. If the flood reaches the farmland next year, we might have to move.”
There, between that mare with the golden mane and the stallion with the blue coat, for a brief second Twilight had caught a flicker of deep violet and almost-white.
“Princess? Is everything alright?”
Was it any surprise that Rarity was here? Logically, it shouldn’t have been. Who knew how many of these things Rarity got invited to in a year? Despite this, Twilight was surprised. It had been a little over three months since the last time she’d seen her. There was always something in the way these days, a last-minute change order, a family emergency- any of the million last-second things life had its way of throwing at you. Friendship Council meetings had been conducted with one or two missing members most months for the last few years.
But here was Rarity, right now, on the other side of this enormous room. She and the golden-maned mare were engrossed in a lengthy laughter-filled conversation with the stallion- He was telling them a story. At least, the mare with the golden mane was engrossed, Rarity seemed to be. But that was the thing about Rarity, she was a fantastic conversationalist. If she didn’t like a pony, they’d have to be some sort of telepath to tell.
That was why even Twilight, who’d spent much of her younger years trying very hard to unravel the puzzle that was Rarity (a task she hardly minded, to be clear), could not tell if she was genuinely interested in what this stallion was saying, or if she was politely biding her time until the opportunity presented itself to speak to somepony she would rather be speaking to.
“Princess Twilight?”
“Hm? Oh, yes, sorry. I was distracted. I’ll have somepony look into it, thank you.”
The younger stallion before her took that as his cue to leave, and Twilight released her breath. She adjusted herself and shook her head, pulling herself back into the moment. Across the room, Rarity still kept her eyes on the stallion and made an occasional comment in return.
Rarity once had voiced concern, if jokingly, that getting older would diminish her beauty, that it would rid her of what she called her “radiant allure.” It hadn’t. She looked a mare her age, no doubt, but youth had never been what made Rarity beautiful to begin with. She held visible for all to see, a carefully cultivated, meticulously maintained sense of self, and that sureness shone out in a way that often made ponies feel like they’d suddenly been placed in the spotlight.
She’d done her mane up tonight different from usual (or maybe this had become the usual and Twilight wasn’t there to notice.) It was cute, and it bobbed slightly as Rarity turned her head to glance at the crowd before locking eyes with Twilight.
In a pulse-stopping moment, the two stared at each other from across the sea of ponies. If only Twilight didn’t stick out so much in a crowd, but she stood about a head taller than most, and now Rarity had noticed that she’d been staring.
Then Rarity said something to the two she’d been speaking with, something to the effect of “excuse me, darlings” before coming toward Twilight. Twilight watched, the thudding in her chest growing as Rarity moved through the crowd. She never bumped into another pony, never found herself awkwardly crossing paths with another. She danced through the crowd, riding its ebb and flow, coming closer and closer until-
“Princess Twilight,” Rarity smiled up at the alicorn, “What a lovely surprise!”
No words came out of Twilight’s mouth for a moment. They’d all vanished. There was only Rarity, in a lovely rose colored dress she’d no doubt made herself. Rarity, with the curled lashes and the pale blue eyeshadow that brought out the deep dazzling blue of her eyes. Rarity, who made no effort to conceal the gray streak steadily encroaching into her mane because she believed so firmly in highlighting one’s natural self instead of hiding it. Rarity, who the princess hadn’t seen in three months. Rarity, who Twilight hadn’t been this close to in years.
And so, unable to be anything but earnest with Rarity, Twilight said, “You look amazing.”
Rarity let out a small laugh and a sigh. “So I’ve been told,” she said, lifting a hoof to bounce her mane slightly.
Dang it. Not the formalities. Anything but the formalities.
“I missed you,” Twilight said, the words tumbling out unbidden.
Did she sound too desperate?
“Oh, hush now, darling,” Rarity said softly, attempting to cusp Twilight’s cheek which was just out of reach. Settling for a hoof on the shoulder, she continued, “Really, you ought to know what a sight for sore eyes you are. Your mane looks positively gorgeous, Princess! Who’s your stylist?”
Twilight laughed, letting out some of the nervous energy which had been building inside her.
“You’d like her.” Please, not the small talk either. “It’s good to see you.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Rarity said back, sincerity creeping in around the edges of her self-aggrandizement.
In that moment, part of Twilight was transported back. Back to dinners that continued long after there was no food left at the table. Back to hours spent in a quiet library spent steadily inching closer to one another as words on pages blurred into the background. To those very rare, precious nights when Rarity had theatrically declared that it was far too late to walk home, and that there was only one bed in Twilight’s entire castle that could possibly suit a lady such as herself, and that Twilight best be comfortable with that!
In Rarity’s eye, Twilight saw it. It only lasted a second, but she knew Rarity too had been taken to those moments many years past. It was only partly disguised as Rarity took a sip from her cocktail glass. A martini? Twilight wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter.
“Well, Princess-”
“Please,” Twilight interrupted, softening her voice just above a whisper, “Please, don't.”
Rarity nodded and continued, “Well, Twilight, it’s awfully crowded in here. I don’t know about you, but I think I’d very much like to step outside and get a breath of fresh air.”
No more needed to be said. The two walked, Rarity leading the way through a doorway trimmed with not-quite-gold. Cool summer air hit both mares as they stepped into the bright, cloudless night. Carefully trimmed, flowering hedges surrounded the lawn, and little tables protected by umbrellas sparsely populated it. Rarity walked past these, away from the glow of the party before she turned again to face Twilight.
Rarity’s veneer of impenetrable confidence softened as she spoke, “Much better.”
The blue of the night had changed Rarity into something ethereal. She stood out from it as much as she seemed part of it, as if the moon’s attention was solely on her.
“Agreed,” Twilight replied, thankful the dark would conceal the pink in her cheeks.
A weight was lifted here, away from the hundreds of prying eyes. There was no need to pretend. They were alone now.
“So,” Twilight said, shoulders relaxed, “What have you been up to?”
Rarity immediately threw her head back and brought a hoof to her forehead, letting out an unladylike whine.
“Twiliiight! It’s been awful! Nopony told me that running a fashion empire would mean taking on all the empire work and none of the fashion! Why, I don’t even remember the last time I got to sew myself! All I’ve done for weeks now is make appearances,” Rarity complained, gesturing so wildly with her glass that it threatened to spill.
There was the Rarity Twilight knew. The princess couldn’t help but snort, and though she’d drafted in her head so many responses, the next words out of her mouth were much clunkier than she’d hoped.
“Well, I can see you have no trouble with appearances.” Did that even sound flirty? Was it too flirty? Stupid.
“Oh, Twilight, puh-lease!” Rarity laughed, and it was real because when Rarity laughed for real, she threw her head back and the laugh came out sharp. “Me? Look at you! You’re becoming more princessly by the hour, I’m going gray already!”
And though Twilight probably should have taken the compliment and kept the banter rolling, and she laughed because Rarity laughed, she again couldn’t help but be entirely honest.
“I mean it! You look-” Twilight reviewed her options carefully. The truest words might have been too strong, but she would kick herself if she undersold it.
“Great. Amazing. Magnificent, I mean you-”
“Oh, yes, yes, Twilight, I hear you.” Rarity waved her hoof dismissively, the smile reaching her eyes. “I age like a fine wine, don’t you worry, I’m very aware.” She laughed and let out a long, soft sigh. And unless Twilight was absolutely losing it, her cheeks might’ve gone just a shade darker.
Twilight laughed along, “Sorry. I know you hear that all the time.”
“Right you are! And I’m positive you do as well, though you never did let yourself accept it.” Rarity cusped Twilight’s cheek, now in reach. “I do hope you’ve learned to take a compliment by now, darling.”
Looking into Rarity’s eyes, Twilight was speechless. For once, she was grateful to have to look down at her, because she got to see the night sky reflected in her eyes. Their color was deepened, as vast and full of wonder as the night itself. The stars twinkled as Rarity lost herself in the gaze of the mare she’d been away from for so, so long. There was no hiding the warmth in either of their faces now.
One evening long ago, when Twilight was a librarian and not a princess, Rarity had sat in bed and allowed Twilight to read her an entire fantasy novel from cover to cover. The silly unicorn was so giddy to read it to her that she hadn’t noticed the sun set, only stopping between chapters briefly to gather Rarity’s thoughts and take a drink of water. It was three in the morning when Twilight finished. Rarity hadn’t minded one bit.
Though they had only been like this for a minute, their faces hovering inches apart, it could just as well have been hours. Rarity found herself now wishing she had let Twilight read her every book that had ever been written. She would have. She should have. She would watch her dark violet eyes sparkle with the sheer delight of being able to share the information which always buzzed around her mind, to have somepony not just hear, but listen. And she would watch them now, with their singular focus on Rarity, all night if she could.
In that moment long ago, Rarity had pulled Twilight in and insisted she stay the rest of the night. The gears in Twilight’s head turned as she ran through options and probabilities, faced with a new puzzle to solve. Though they lay distant from each other then, Twilight drifted off as she asked for Rarity’s opinions on the book, and Rarity mumbled sleepy answers until they became indecipherable.
Twilight’s heart pounded in her chest, closer to Rarity than she'd been in years. The scent of her perfume, something flowery with just a hint of citrus, became clear.
In her mind, as she often did, she made countless plans for what to do in such a moment. She rehearsed jokes that were sure to make her laugh. She planned out stories about the places she’d been and the things she’d done to keep Rarity on the edge of her seat. She drafted soliloquies about all the things that made Rarity so wonderfully, exceptionally Rarity, and poetic confessions to sweep her off her hooves.
In Twilight’s practice runs, she was smooth and eloquent. She was confident and clever. She was the mare who always knew just what to say and how to say it.
Now that Rarity was here, all of those plans had gone out the window. Twilight’s heartbeat pulsed in her hooves which shook as she lifted one and placed it ever so carefully around Rarity’s side.
Tears began to sting at Twilight’s eyes as everything that had and hadn’t been flooded to the forefront of her mind. Twilight opened her mouth, searching for something, anything to say. Something clever. Something charming. Something funny. Something profound. Something romantic. Something beautiful.
But Twilight was Twilight, and Rarity was Rarity, and Twilight was rendered incapable of being anything but entirely transparent. Her voice quivered more than she would’ve liked when the words came out, and the only thing she could think to say was something stupid.
“I love you.”
It was Rarity’s turn now for tears to wet her eyes, and a pained look crossed her face.
She trembled and spoke, “Twilight…” as if her name was fragile and precious.
It was finally said. Of course it was true. Rarity knew it. Twilight knew. Rarity knew Twilight knew. They had known all along. But why, why, why did she have to say it now? Why when they lived miles apart and spent every waking moment of their lives neck deep in obligation? Why did Twilight Sparkle have to be so cruel? For that matter, why did Rarity have to be so cruel? Why did she let it go unsaid all those years? Why did she have to be such a fool to expect woefully silly, catastrophically oblivious, constantly second-guessing Twilight to be the one to take action?
How could two of Equestria’s very brightest be so very, very stupid?
“I’m sorry… Rarity, I-”
There was so much still that needed to be said, and so much time that had been wasted. There was too much. Where could they even begin?
It didn’t matter. Fate had other plans for Rarity and Twilight. It always did.
“Princess Twilight!” A voice called from somewhere near the party,
No.
Hurried hoofsteps approached. It was a young stallion, one Twilight knew. His name was Startrail, and he was her student. Quickly the two mares removed themselves from each other and wiped their eyes.
“Thank the stars I found you, I really-”
“Startrail, please, just a minute.”
Twilight winced and glanced back at Rarity, who put on a pained, understanding smile. Twilight was going to be dragged away, and that would have to be fine.
“I’m sorry, Princess, it’s urgent! You were right, I wasn’t ready for those advanced spells. I must not have been careful enough with the pudding recipe.”
Twilight let out a long sigh and stood tall, “I can be there in just a minute.”
“Ah, Rarity, there you are!”
Disappointment settled in the pits of their stomachs. Not like this, please not like this. Not now. Why now?
Rarity turned to face an older stallion Twilight only registered as Fancy Pants adjacent, though Rarity must have known him.
“There’s been a slight hiccup in the production. A misplaced candle and a few careless stagehooves have resulted in a bit of a… total wardrobe incineration.”
Rarity’s jaw dropped to the floor. “What!? But- but the play goes on next week!”
“Precisely,” said the older stallion, “Which is why we need replacements as soon as possible!”
“It took months to make those costumes!”
Rarity looked to Twilight, as though she could make this all go away right now.
“Princess Twilight, please!” Startrail pleaded.
Twilight turned to follow.
So close. Every time, so close. Always out of reach.
Rarity turned away, then risked a look back.
Both mares’ faces were crestfallen. Apologies were silently transmitted back and forth until there was no more time to stall. Twilight and Rarity resigned themselves to their duties, and the distance between them grew once again
On their final night in Twilight’s castle, before she left for Canterlot, Rarity told Twilight that distance made the heart grow fonder. And to her credit, that was true. But it also hurt.
Back then, Rarity had pulled Twilight in and made her promise that they would never say “goodbye,” only ever “until next time,” because there would always be a next time, and they would make sure of that. But now they could never be sure when next time would be.
Maybe next month.