Heartless

She could have been heartless and let her fears convince her to say no. 

It had been a rainy autumn day when Rarity had first told her she loved her, about a year before her ascension. They’d been having dinner at a restaurant in Canterlot, and after an expensive dessert, Rarity had said it, and Twilight? 

Twilight had almost refused to believe it. 

“Really?” she’d asked, stunned, flustered, delighted.

Stunned because for so long she’d assumed Rarity would never be romantically interested in a bookworm who knew about many things but not of love, or romance, or the social intricacies Rarity knew so well. 

“Yes, Twilight,” she’d said with an affectionate laugh, drawing a giggle out of Twilight. “I do in fact love you.”

A million thoughts filled her mind, the majority more negative than positive because it wasn’t just their relationship at stake. It was their bond as Element-bearers, it was their bond as a friendship group if things went sour, it was so many terrible things that could go wrong if Twilight accepted the confession only for things to go south. 

She could have been heartless and convinced herself to say no. 

“I love you, too.”

But she wasn’t. 

She thought of that moment years later. Thought of it because she’d been so happy. She had! She’d felt so full and warm and whole, knowing Rarity loved her, but.

But things change. Life changes, bodies change, from unicorn to alicorn, and they get complicated. Difficult. Stressful. 

Trips to Canterlot meant meeting other ponies. Meeting other ponies meant meeting him. A stallion she saw so much, more than her own marefriend even, that… things just happened. How could they not when he was charming, and kind, and they seemed to match. 

It wasn’t an excuse, nor a justification. Just a reason. 

She said as much to Rarity when she broke up with her, crying her eyes out while Rarity just… smiled gently. 

That was another moment Twilight thought of frequently, especially the nights where she had nothing else to do but think. Even as Twilight broke her heart, Rarity loved her still to tell her it was alright. That there was nothing to forgive. 

She thought of that selflessness as she went through her divorce. The scandal of it all, which she hated so, so much. A painful event that should have been private, should have been quiet, but was big and public and searing because she was the stupid queen of a stupid kingdom. 

The worst event of her life, and who was there in the trenches, at the front of the line? 

“Darling,” she’d said, gentle and warm, holding Twilight through yet another night of mourning the relationship she’d broken them up for. Selfless in a way Twilight could never be. “You will rise from this. You will.”

“I won’t,” Twilight had said, as angered as she was distraught. It was stupid! They were divorcing because they were better off apart. She knews this, logically and otherwise, but it still hurt. And she confessed, small and bleeding, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re not alone, my darling. You have us.” 

There was a hesitation. Tiny, minuscule, but there, and Twilight clung to it when it ended and Rarity added: 

“You have me.”

It was comforting, in a very awful, sad kind of way, to know that Rarity was still in love with her even then.  

It was tempting, in a very awful, sad kind of way, to act on that knowledge right then and there, to shove everything away and immediately replace it with Rarity, who loved her so much. 

No sooner had Rarity finished her declaration, as burningly sincere as that autumn day she’d said “I love you”, Twilight looked into her eyes and felt tempted to kiss her. And she knew Rarity would let her. The reality of Rarity loving you was knowing that if you were to ask her to jump for you, she would ask you how high. 

She could have been heartless, leaned in to kiss her and kept the unicorn as hers. 

But she wasn’t heartless, even though there would be times later, much much later, when in the late hours of the night, lost in her thoughts, she’d wish she had been. 

She thought they had time. One of the drawbacks of being an alicorn, probably. With an extended lifespan comes the sensation that time has slowed to a crawl so there’s no need to rush, or worry, or stress too much. 

There’s time, Twilight thought, and there was time for her to get Rarity back in a way that was right now that months of healing had shown her that she did in fact want her back. That she had made a mistake letting her go in the first place.

She thought that, where true love was concerned, she had all the time in the world.

She was wrong, of course, and she found out how just how much the very same night she’d decided to take the plunge. 

“That was some party, huh?” she asked Rarity, the two of them helping Pinkie and the others clean up after a particularly rowdy Pinkie Party. She turned round to Rarity, busy sweeping cake off the floor, and grinned at the slime-green party hat loosely hanging off her friend’s horn. “You’re going to be sweeping that hat off the floor if you don’t put it on right.”

“Darling, I’m only wearing it because Pinkie started to cry when I said it was hideous, which further cements my theory that Pinkie loses all of her already little good taste the moment she drinks,” Rarity said with a scoff. 

Twilight laughed, endeared. “It looks good on you!”

“Everything looks good on me, Twilight,” Rarity said, before pausing a second and turning to Twilight with a devious smile. “But you know who it would look better on?”

“Who? Twilight asked, even though she knew the answer even before Rarity’s horn crackled with magic and the hat appeared on the alicorn’s horn. “Ah.”

Though she tried to hide it, she couldn’t help the half-smitten grin when Rarity walked over to her and adjusted the hat, grinning proudly. 

“Look at you! So dashing, you are! The Princess and her new slime-green hideous crown!” With a giggle, she bowed down. “I bow to you, Oh Slime Princess.”

“Mmmm.” Twilight frowned playfully. “I’m starting to think Pinkie’s not the only one who’s a little drunk.” An idea struck the alicorn. The perfect segue into her plan to get her alone and… say how she felt. That she wanted a second chance if Rarity would give it. “I’m not sure you should be walking home alone, in fact.” She sighed theatrically, just like Rarity would, and declared: “I guess I’ll have to walk you home.”

 The unicorn laughed softly. “That won’t be necessary, your highness. I am not drunk, I assure you. Besides—” She paused a second. Just a second. “Applejack is already walking with me after the party, so there’s no need to worry.”

Twilight blinked, thrown. “I—Are you sure? I’m happy to walk you back.”

Rarity smiled warmly. “I am, dear. I appreciate the gesture regardless.”

Though Twilight was frustrated at the change in plans, she tried to not let it show even as she insisted on getting her way. “But… the farm is literally in the exact opposite direction of the boutique. If she takes you home, she’d be getting to the farm really late!” 

“I, well, yes, but—” 

“That’s silly.” Twilight shook her head after her interruption. “I should take you instead! I mean, the castle is practically next to the boutique, we might as well walk toget—”

“I’m not going back to the boutique, Twilight,” Rarity cut off, a little more forcefully than she intended if her embarrassed blush was any indication. She cleared her throat and the smile returned. “I, ah, am joining Applejack at the farm.”

Days later—No, hours later, Twilight Sparkle would wish she could bash her head against the wall for what she said next. 

“…For a friendly sleepover?” she asked, because she was a blind idiot, and felt even more so when Rarity’s pronounced blush grew and she understood. “Oh,” she said, her now burning desire to step back held back only by her frozen horror. 

Oh.

Rarity smiled uncomfortably. “Yes,” she said, clearly not having prepared for this. She glanced around and her now-hushed voice only made Twilight’s beating heart louder. “Nopony knows yet. We’d like to, ah, keep it that way for now.”

“Right,” Twilight said blankly, because what else would she say other than what she wanted to do which was scream. “Uhm. Huh.”

“I can explain,” Rarity added. 

Please don’t, Twilight wanted to say, Please, for the love of everything, don’t. 

“Oh?” she said instead, because what else could she say when she’d said those same three damned words to Rarity a long, long time ago when she came back from Canterlot one Saturday night. 

“You know how she went with me to a fashion event in Appleloosa? Well, we had a bit too much hard cider one night, and…” Her blush grew, but so did her smile, and Twilight Sparkle wanted to die. “Let’s say things occured.”

“Huh.”

“And…” There was a hitch in Rarity’s voice. A little laugh, silly and endearing and terrifying. “I suppose it’s fitting you’re the one who found out first,” she continued, Twilight desperately biting her lip to stop herself from running away. Rarity’s ears lowered, vulnerable and sincere and brutal. “I… Back when you… Well, you met The-Ex-We-Shall-Not-Name and told me how you felt about him, I thought I’d never understand what in Equestria you’d felt that gave you the security to break us up. Well…”

Please, Twilight wanted to say. Please, I beg you. Don’t. 

But she did, offering Twilight a smile the likes the alicorn had never seen Rarity do before. A smile that shone like the sun, gentle and warm and blinding and devastating. A smile that Rarity had never even given Twilight herself. 

“Well,” she said, “now I think I finally understand.”

Twilight didn’t know what to say. Or what to do. And surprisingly, she didn’t feel like crying. She felt like she should be crying because she certainly felt like her heart had been ripped in two, but she couldn’t. Not a single tear she could shed, and finally she understood why Rarity hadn’t cried when Twilight broke up with her years ago. 

“Rarity,” she said, breaking into a smile. “That’s great.”

If Twilight Sparkle had wanted it, she could have them broken up whenever she wanted. 

She was powerful enough to do so. They trusted her enough to probably do as she said, just because she was the one saying it. She could have spun a story about the elements being in danger just by the fact that they were dating, and she could have stopped them. 

She could have. She didn’t, of course, and she wouldn’t, but she could have.

“Sugarheart,” Applejack said next to Fluttershy, a hint of annoyance as she ate another fry from the plate. “It’s getting mighty old.”

“It’s cute!” Pinkie exclaimed, sitting in between Rainbow and Twilight on the picnic mat. 

“It’s annoying,” Rainbow snorted. 

And Twilight held her tongue as Rarity whined next to her, giggles interspersing her theatrics, the sparkle in her eye as shining as the ring on her horn. “Pardon meeeee! Is it such a crime that I’m excited to be engaged to the love of my life?”

“Is it is when you’re going to giggle like a plumb fool every time you look at me!” Applejack exclaimed, her exasperation laced with love and adoration and a poison Twilight couldn’t not take. 

“Pinkie thinks it’s cute!” Rarity pointed out. “And so does Fluttershy!”

“I haven’t said anything,” Fluttershy giggled. 

“Twilight, then!” Rarity exclaimed, and her brilliant eyes turned to Twilight Sparkle. “Darling! Don’t you think it’s cute?”

And it was. It was, Twilight knew, only because of how sick it made her watch it happen. But she deserved this, didn’t she? She had Rarity once, and let her go, so now she couldn’t complain. She had to sit and take it, if anything because seeing Rarity so happy was the only saving grace Twilight Sparkle had. 

It’s what let her sleep at night. That Rarity was so deliriously happy, even more so than she’d ever been with Twilight, and that Twilight allowed her that by ending things between them. 

So she smiled, affectionate, and loving in a way that came far too late. 

“I think it’s cute,” she said, and her smile was sincere when Rarity giggled victoriously.

“Thank you, dear,” said the unicorn. “Thank goodness you understand.” 

“Of course,” replied Twilight. 

The truth of the matter was that Twilight Sparkle could have been heartless and kept Rarity as hers. She could have moved the earth and skies to get her way and made Rarity hers again. 

She could have been. Sometimes, she wished she had been. But, just like in that moment, Rarity would smile her way and Twilight knew deep down what was true as she stared into the unicorn’s eyes. 

Twilight was not happy, no, but…

“I’m happy for you.”