The Tavern down the Road

Her hooves in searing pain with every step they took down the icy, lonely road, Princess Rarity could only think that she’d not expected hell to be this cold. 

The cold felt like death. There was truly no other way to describe it, biting every part of her it could touch, sneaking in through every exposed part of the torn, dirty coat Rainbow Dash had managed to find for her. 

“Princess,” Rainbow begged, alarm crystallized in every syllable, “please, just—”

“Diamond Star,” the princess hissed, and only when she came to a complete stop did her back once again protest the harness attached. It screamed with pain, revolted against the effort it was miserably unused to. “The illusion spell only works if they don’t know who I truly am. Do you want to get us killed? ”

“No, but—” Rainbow looked at her, at the forelegs that were all but begging to give in, the princess never having walked this much and this far and this long in her entire life. After removing her own harness, she gestured to the cart they’d been pulling, half of it already empty. “Please, Diamond, just get on. I can pull you and the cart.”

Rarity looked at the cart longingly, inviting her in even in its current state—wet and covered in snow. It’d had more food at some point, more clothes and provisions, but then they’d run into a starving family near the outskirts of the city, and Rarity remembered—

“The chocolate truffles you’re eating cost more than two weeks’ worth of food for a family in the Eastern City District.”

—so she gave it away. And when they came across a mare freezing on her way home an hour later, there went the best coat Rarity had brought. And then a blanket when they stopped inside a small cottage for shelter, and then, one by one, provision after provision kept being left to somepony in need. 

“Why are you doing this?!” Rainbow had hissed when another coat was given away. 

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“We got these for us! Not for them! Princess—”

“Diamond Star!”

“Whatever! Since when do you care about other ponies?” she’d demanded, and even if it was coming from a place of prioritizing the princess, it did not mean it did not cut like a frigid sword. “Twilight isn’t here to clap for you!”

“I’m not doing this for her!” she’d yelled. 

It was a lie, of course. Or, really, a half-lie, because she was doing what Twilight would want her to do, but not because she expected Twilight to see it. 

In truth, she never expected to see Twilight again. Not in any way that mattered.  

The second she stepped into the secret tunnel back home, she knew it was the death knell of their relationship. She knew that even if Twilight managed to find her and bring her home, the guard would wash her hooves of her the moment she was safe and out of harm’s way. 

But this was fine. She’d had no choice. If she’d stayed and let her father die, she was going to lose Twilight anyway by becoming queen and having all her agency and wants and desires stripped away. 

At least this way, she’d still have her father instead of losing both of them and her own personhood in one fell swoop. 

“I don’t need to be carried,” she insisted, tearing her eyes away from the cart, but when she stepped forward and pain shot through her leg like knives, Rainbow Dash was holding her up faster than she could tumble to the ground. 

Her voice overflowed with concern. “Princess.” 

Unfortunately, her touch was like poison. 

“Diamond!” the princess hissed, all but shoving Rainbow to the ground, tears burning her eyes. She looked down at the pegasus, guilt and indignation and all in between burning her in equal measure. “Enough! Will you leave me be?! ”

“What is your problem?!” Rainbow snapped. “I’m trying to help you!”

“I don’t need help! Stop treating me like I’m incompetent!” protested the princess, suffocating under the weight of what she knew was a lie, remembering every single moment Twilight had rightfully pointed out she was useless, Rarity giggling away.

Well, she wasn’t laughing now. 

Rainbow’s gaze softened, and though it was likely empathy, all Rarity saw was pity. Pity for poor, stupid, useless, spoiled little Princess Rarity. 

“Well?” 

“Fine, whatever,” Rainbow said, her voice irritated but no longer angered. She got up, dusted the snow away, and adjusted the harness over her back. “Do whatever you want like always.”

Her harness in place, Rainbow took a steadying breath. “‘Kay, let’s get going.” But when she stepped forward and the weight of the cart held her back, she turned to the princess. “Well? Didn’t you wan—Aw, geez.”

The princess had fallen to her hindlegs, her face hidden behind her forehooves. 

“I’m sorry, Rainbow.” 

“It’s okay, Pri—Diamond.” Once again, the pegasus freed herself of the harness and went to her friend, wrapping a foreleg around her. “You’re, uh, going through stuff.” 

“Twilight hates me,” said the princess, her voice coming completely undone. 

“What? No, she doesn’t!” Rainbow insisted. “I mean, yeah, sure, she’s probably pissed you tricked her, but—” She stopped her sentence just as Rarity let out a terrible sob. “I mean, I’m sure she doesn’t care!”

“And I’m cold,” the princess continued, “and I’m tired, and my hooves hurt, and I’m hungry, and Twilight won’t ever want to see me again, and—”

“Are you crazy? That’s not true!” Rainbow protested, the anger lacing her words more indignant than anything. “Twilight would, like, die for you! Like die die.”

“Because I’m her job,” Rarity sobbed. The hooves came off just enough for her to add, “And I’m a terrible job! I’m the worst possible job she’s ever had!”

“Diamond Star,” Rainbow sternly said, and when puffy, reddened eyes peered at her from behind forehooves, she continued, “I bet that, like, Twilight’s on her way right now to find you.”

“To tell me she hates me!” Her face disappeared back behind her hooves. “Or to kill me for tricking her!” Her face reappeared. “Or both! She hates me and wants to kill me!” 

“Look, let’s be real, if Twilight is going to kill anypony, it’s me.” 

“No, she wouldn’t,” the princess sniffled. “Twilight only ever incapacitates ponies, never wounds them. And even if you were a horrid pony, you’d have to be a real threat for her to hurt you.”

“…Hey, wait.” 

“Or make her very angry.”

“I can totally do that!” Rainbow huffed. 

“Make her angry? You do do that.” 

“No! The other thing! I am totally a threat, and—Ugh! This is dumb. Look.” She put on a smile. “See? You said it yourself. If Twilight won’t kill me, then she totally won’t kill you.”

“Yes, she will.”

“What? Why?” When Rarity opened her mouth, she quickly added, “and don’t say it’s because she hates you.” 

Rarity puffed up her cheeks, glaring at the pegasus. 

“Come on, your hi—diamondness.” Rainbow offered her a friendly grin, giving her shoulders a tight squeeze. “Remember the other time you snuck out of the castle when Twilight thought you forgot her birthday?” The princess nodded. “Yeah, well! You showed her she was wrong! And we’re gonna go to Mount Caelum, find this temple, save the king, and show her and everypony else they’re wrong again! Right?”

“…Yes,” Rarity sniffled, smiling sincerely for what felt like the first time in ages, until the reality of her situation once again caught up with her. “Do you really think Twilight is on her way?”

“Yes,” Rainbow said, “and not because she hates you.”

“I don’t think she hates me,” Rarity said, quietly. Her eyes welled up with tears. “But I think I really hurt her. And I do think she might kill me for what I’ve done.”

“No, she won’t. If she didn’t kill us last time we snuck you out of the castle, she proooobably won’t kill us now. And if she does kill us, I’ll keep my promise from back then and bring flowers to your funeral.”

Rarity laughed. It felt nice, even if her throat hurt from the cold. “And I will do the same for yours.”

“Great! Now, let’s book it before she finds us too fast.” She reattached her harness, ready to go, only to turn to the princess and find the unicorn staring at her with wide, pitiful eyes. 

“My hooves hurt…”

“Gee, I thought you didn’t want anypony to carry you?”

“I’m not being carried,” the princess politely replied. “I’m simply guarding the rest of our provisions.” 

Rainbow grinned wide. “Yeah, yeah. Get to guarding then.” 

They called it the wailing of the kingdom. 

The sound of cannons, enchanted to be heard all over the land, no matter where one was, to signify a death in the royal family. Rarity had only heard the wailing twice in her entire life thus far—the first when she was a filly and her grandfather died, and the second, a few years ago, before she’d met Twilight, when her grandmother joined her husband. 

As she lay in the cart, listening to the howling of the wind, the princess found little rest, too busy petrified by the fear of hearing the kingdom wail for the third time. 

But it hadn’t yet, and as long as that was the case, she could still save him. 

As long as the cannons were quiet, her life could still remain unchanged. 

“Diamond!” Rainbow’s voice cut to through the wind’s symphony, raspier than usual. She’d been pulling the cart for a long time now at an unfortunately slow pace. “I’m pretty sure there’s some sort of tavern comin’ up. I’m parking us there, okay?”

The princess sat up, and immediately regretted it when the wind buffeted her face. Covering herself with the few remaining coats, she scooched over to the front of the cart, gripping its edges with her hooves. 

“But—How long?!”

“At least half a day.”

“Half a day?! Have you gone mad? That’s too long! We’re already going so slow as it is, even when the two of us are pulling!”

Rainbow stopped, the weary eyes beseeching. “Please, we gotta eat. And I gotta sleep, or else I’m gonna conk out soon, and that’ll be bad for both of us.”

The princess hesitated, anxiety rearing its head at the idea of delaying her father’s salvation, but… well, she thought of Twilight, and knew that if Twilight were there, she wouldn’t have asked for permission to rest, she would have just done so, putting their own health first. 

“Oh, all right,” she relented, sinking into the cart as it renewed its slow motion. “You’re right.”

With a dreadful name like The Howling Hound, the one-storey tavern was exactly the kind of place Rarity expected a mercenary like Rainbow Dash to know. Grimy and ugly looking, its roof missing half its shingles, the torn namesign half hanging from its post, the place was a far cry from the luxury of her big castle back in the city. 

To make things worse, a stallion, she noticed, was relieving himself in a bush at the tavern’s side. 

Was this how her ponies were forced to live? Barbarically and without manners or apparently proper hygiene facilities? Stars help them all. 

“Rainbow,” Rarity asked, standing next to her temporary bodyguard, more than ever wishing her actual one were there, “are you certain we should stop here?” 

“What? Yeah, it’s fine,” Rainbow said, waving off the princess’ concerns and covering a yawn with the same hoof. “Besides, we won’t be here long. Just going to get some grub, then I’m gonna nap in the cart for, like, four hours, and we’ll be outta here before you know it.”

Despite her reluctance, Rarity followed behind Rainbow and the cart, trying to believe that maybe, just maybe, the interior of the Howling Hound was nicer and cleaner than its exterior. 

“Hey, you!” Rainbow called out to the stallion. “You know where I’m supposed to tie my cart?”

“Can’t you see I’m pissing here?!”

“Can’t you see I don’t give a crap? Where do I put it?” Rainbow snapped while a mortified Rarity averted her eyes. Ponies just talked to each other like that? Truly? 

Goddesses, Twilight would never. 

“What’re you luggin’ in there anyways?” the stallion asked, walking over when he was finished with his business. 

“Nunya!”

“What’s that?”

“Nunya your friggin’ business!” 

Goddesses, Rarity thought, a hoof pressed against her chest, please forgive Rainbow, she was raised in a barn. 

“It’s just some blankets and crap,” Rainbow continued, throwing the curious stallion a bone. “Trying to sell ‘em off. You want one? Shove over a hundred bits, and its yours.”

“We’re not selling them!” Rarity protested, only belatedly realizing she’d drawn attention to herself when the stallion peered around the cart and saw her, his eyes going wide. “Who’s this?”

Logically, Rarity knew the stallion didn’t know her true identity. The perception spell was one of the few spells she’d listened to Twilight about practicing, and she knew she was good at it. The stallion would see whatever he wanted to see, which would not be the crown princess of the kingdom. 

But that still didn’t stop the panic as he stepped towards her, very, very curiously. 

“You’re with her, doll?”

“I’m not your doll,” Rarity huffed. “My name is Diamond Star.” 

“Dia-mond Star.” He sniffed the air and smiled. “You smell good, Star. You two—” He glanced at Rainbow, then at the cart, completely missing Rainbow’s ‘shut up’ gesture. “You’re from the city.”

“What? Naaah.” Rainbow waved him off. “We’re from Mudforest. We’re lookin’ to rip off city ponies, not be them.”

“Sh-She’s right,” Rarity added, lowering the register of her voice. “We’re just, uh, like you. Peasants.” She ignored Rainbow slapping a forehoof over her face. “Or that’s what the city idiots we’ve ripped off called us, at least!” She turned her head and spat on the floor like some sort of uncivilized barbarian. “Peh!”

“Huh. Thought you said you weren’t selling these?”

“W-Well—” 

“Look, guy,” Rainbow stepped in, saving Rarity from herself. “Just tell us where we can put the cart, will you?”

The stallion’s gaze stayed on Rarity a little longer than she felt comfortable, until eventually it moved, his interest in her waning. “Yeah, yeah, I heard you.” He gestured to the other side of the tavern. “Hitching poles are over there.”

“Sweet. Thanks.” Rainbow waved Rarity over. “Come on, Diamond, let’s get this over with so we can eat. I’m starving.” 

He watched her as she rushed over to Rainbow Dash. 

“If you want me to look over it,” he said, “it’ll cost you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rainbow fished out a little satchel from her saddlebags and then threw it at him. “That’s, like, fifteen bits. Just don’t go pissing in our merchandise, got it?”

To Rarity’s great dismay, the inside of the tavern was somehow worse than the outside. Looking like it hadn’t been cleaned in months under the dim-light, the entire place reeked of alcohol and grease, the kind of place whose patrons saw more of the bartender than their family—if they even had any, to begin with. 

There were a scant few patrons—about four or five sketchy looking types—their gaze following Rarity and Rainbow as they left their coats by the entrance and then encamped at a table near a window where Rainbow could keep an eye on their cart. The majority looked away when they sat down, save for a bulky looking pegasus seated at the bar, his eyes fixed on Rarity longer than was entirely appropriate. 

“Rainbow,” she whispered, urgently, “that brute over there is staring at me.”

“Yeah, I see him,” Rainbow replied, wearily stretching her wings. “That’s just how it is in places like these. ‘We don’t like them strangers’ and crap. Don’t let it get to ya.” 

“It isn’t,” Rarity lied. 

“Great. Anyway, I’m gonna get us some grub. Soup should be good.”

“No, thank you,” Rarity said. She’d no idea where these ponies were getting their water from, and she wasn’t about to put dirty water into her already terribly mistreated body. “I’ll have a sandwich.” But then there was a chance they hadn’t washed their hooves! “Wait! No, not a sandwich; Goddess knows where the food is coming from. How about a…uh… a…”

“I’ll get you whatever I feel like,” Rainbow replied, walking off. 

“Rainbow!” Rarity hissed, but her protector simply waved her off with a hoof, leaving her at the mercy of the uninspiring hygiene of the place and the watchful eyes of that pegasus, the oaf still staring at her like she was some window display. 

Any other day, she’d have stared right back at him, or otherwise told him off, but… well, any other day, she’d have Twilight there to deal with any potential repercussions. How romantic, she’d have said if things were different, the idea that Twilight gave her the confidence to be unflinchingly herself, and yet instead she felt like nothing more than a coward. 

So much for Princess Rarity and her infamous pride. Was she really just all bark and no bite, like she’d heard some of her father’s advisors whisper amongst each other? It was only fear of being taken by surprise that stopped her from burying her face in her hooves. 

How often had those closest to her joked that she was only competent because of Twilight? She’d laughed so much at the time, thinking it was just in jest, and only now wondering if they’d ever been joking at all. 

No, she thought, refusing to let tears sting her eyes, I’m smart and well-read and an excellent pony with or without Twilight Sparkle or anypony else. 

When Rainbow Dash came back ten minutes later, it was with two bowls of what seemed to be soup, its contents a dubious hazy brown with bits of even more dubious vegetables floating in and out of visibility. 

“It’s mushroom soup,” Rainbow said, placing a bowl before the princess. “Healthy!”

“I see,” Rarity said, and nothing else. 

She watched as Rainbow planted herself on the other side of the table and then forewent the spoon in favour of clasping the bowl with both hooves and practically slurping the entire bowl in one go. A minute later, she slammed the empty bowl down and revealed half the soup was smeared all over her muzzle, vegetable bits included.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, eyeing Rarity’s untouched bowl. 

“Oh, nothing,” politely said the princess. “I’ve not much of an appetite.” 

“Well, eat anyway. It’s real good.”

“Is it.”

“Yeah! I paid a whole ten bits for these. Each.” Her grin was sincere. “I never thought you’d have the feathers to do somethin’ as crazy as this, so I want to treat you with the best of the best.” 

Ten bits, to Rarity, was nothing. 

Ten bits, in fact, was an amount Rarity had never thought about because nothing she’d ever purchased would ever cost such an insignificant number as just ten bits. 

But her friend had paid for it. Her friend who was risking her own skin in freezing weather for Rarity. Her friend who genuinely thought a ten bit meal was the height of luxury. So, pushing down every single part of her revulsion, Rarity picked up the spoon and scooped up some soup. 

It took her fifteen whole minutes to eat all of it, the entire time privately thinking it tasted like dirt, but when she scooped up the last spoonful, she felt proud.

It felt silly to be proud of it. It was, if anything, stupid to be proud of having eaten food from a place whose only crime was to be well, well below her station, but Rarity was still proud regardless because nopony would have expected her to do it. Everypony would have expected her to scoff, and protest, and be a brat over it all, but she hadn’t been, and she was proud.

Maybe Twilight, even while rolling her eyes, would still be a little proud of her, too.

However, her little moment of pride was cut short by the sound of the tavern door opening, the wind howling outside, and it was with no small amount of disappointment that she saw it was not Twilight walking in, but that unmannerly stallion from outside, beelining towards the burly pegasus. 

And if before she’d been disappointed, now she was concerned, noticing from the corner of her eye how the stallion and the pegasus kept glancing towards her and Rainbow as they spoke. 

Her voice was strained. “Rainbow.”

“Yeah, I see them,” Rainbow replied, observing the two stallions by their reflection in the window. 

“What do we do?”

“Fifteen more minutes,” Rainbow said, rubbing her eyes. She’d been visibly struggling not to nod off the entire time Rarity had been eating. “I just need fifteen more, and I’ll be okay.”

Rarity said nothing, still discreetly observing the two stallions talk, her dread growing with every glance they threw her way. A moment later, Rarity nearly jumped out of her skin when the tavern door suddenly opened again and an earth pony mare walked in, her saddlebags and over-coat covered in snow. 

“Looks like just a traveler,” Rainbow whispered, watching the mare shake off the snow. “That’s good. They’re less likely to try crap if there’s randos.” 

“What do you mean?” Rarity asked, alarmed. “You think they might actually be planning something?”

Rainbow didn’t reply and instead nodded subtly towards the stallions. Their conversation had finished, it looked like, and the outside stallion was already on his way out, not even sparing the traveler a passing glance. 

Rarity turned her attention back to her friend, whining softly. 

“When we leave,” Rainbow said, “we’re gonna hope all they want is to get one of our sweet coats.” 

“And if they want something else?”

“I’m just gonna have to beat the crap outta them.” She fell silent, and for a moment, her ears lowered. “Damn it. I shoulda cased the joint before we even came in. Can’t believe I—” She cut herself off, first noticing the traveler heading straight towards them, and then noticing Rarity’s panicked expression. “Be cool,” she whispered urgently. “Let me do the talking.”

“Good evening,” said the mare, her voice brighter than the rest of her, what was visible of her coat the dullest brown Rarity had ever seen. Her gaze switched back and forth between Rarity and Rainbow, but stayed on Rarity a fraction of a second more than she liked. “You’re not from here, I take it?”

“What’s it to you?” Rainbow asked. 

“It isn’t,” the mare replied. She smiled politely. “I apologize. We may have gotten off on the wrong hoof.” She glanced back towards the pegasus oaf, his gaze still on them. “I’m not from here, either, so I was hoping to find some kinship while I wait out the storm.”

Rarity watched her as she spoke. She didn’t seem like a bad pony. She seemed nice, in fact, if remarkably ordinary, which honestly was much better than the rest of the tavern’s patrons—several of which, she now noticed with horror, had moved closer to their table. 

The traveler continued, blissfully unaware. “I’m Wheatgerm.” 

Rainbow saluted. “‘Sup. I’m Nunya.” She gestured to Rarity. “Your-Business.”

Wheatgerm laughed, at ease. “Right. Well, it’s nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Nunya.” She turned towards Rarity, her smile earnest. This was a good pony, Rarity realized, and now a third life was added to her list of concerns. “And you, too, your Business.” She gestured to the empty spot next to Rarity. “Could I sit with you folks for a bit?”

“Sorry, Wheatie. You seem nice, but we don’t feel like makin’ new pals,” Rainbow replied, the casualness of her remark at odds with the firmness of her tone. 

“Right.” Wheatgerm smiled thinly. And then disarmingly, her ears lowering just so, and her voice as well, an edge of urgency to it. “Could I ask you reconsider? I walked here expecting shelter and warmth from the storm, but.” Her eyes met Rarity’s. “Except for you two, I don’t think there is any.”

Rainbow frowned. “Hey, listen, pal, beat it. We said no.”

“You said no,” Wheatgerm replied without missing a beat. Now it was her tone that was firm. “But Miss Business here didn’t, so unless you’re Princess Rarity herself, I believe you only speak for yourself. So—”

“Hey!” 

Rarity froze, realizing it was that oaf who’d just yelled at them from across the room. 

“She bein’ an issue?” he called out, looking at Rainbow. “Need me to take care of her?”

After a split-second hesitation, Wheatgerm frozen in place and Rarity subtly shaking her head, Rainbow called back, “Nah! We’re all good here. She was just leaving.” She locked eyes with the earth pony. “Right, Wheatie?”

Though Wheatgerm’s mouth stayed shut, her furrowed brow expressed itself quite clearly.

“Miss Wheatgerm.” Rarity spoke softly but clearly. “You seem kind. You seem like a good pony, and I would hate to see you hurt,” she said, trying her best to sound disarming but firm, just like Twilight so often had. “It would be in your best interest you please don’t associate yourself with us.”

One, two, three seconds passed, and Wheatgerm smiled at Rarity, apologetic. 

“I understand. I’m sorry to have interrupted.” 

She bowed her head slightly and then finally left them alone, settling down at a nearby table all by herself. 

“Rainbow,” Rarity said. “I would like to leave now, please.” 

Rainbow breathed out the longest sigh Rarity had ever seen of her. “Yeah, yeah.” She shook her head, patted her cheeks with her hooves, and some life returned to her eyes. “Okay! Let’s ditch this joint. Be ready to walk fast and don’t stop for nothing. Got it?” 

“Yes,” said the princess, bracing herself. 

She would be fine. They would be fine. Her time hadn’t come yet. 

Rainbow rose first. Then Rarity. And when the two of them began to walk towards the exit, every single pony in the tavern—seven, including Wheatgerm—turned to stare. Only one other stood up, and it was just as they were mere feet from the door that the pegasus blocked their exit. 

“Ladies,” he said, “leaving so soon?” 

Oh Goddesses, thought Rarity, I’m going to die here. 

“Got places to be,” Rainbow replied, cool and collected in a way that boggled and impressed Rarity in equal measure. 

She’d asked Rainbow to escort her because she’d no other options, but frankly, if they survived the next hour, and Twilight did in fact resign, the princess was already all but mentally hiring Rainbow as her replacement. 

“In this weather?” the pegasus asked. “But why? Stay, stay! It’s not safe out there, and you’ve come a long way from the capital, haven’t you?” 

“We’re not from the capital,” Rainbow lied. “Like I told your buddy outside, we’re from Mudforest.” 

The pegasus laughed. “See, that’s funny! ‘Cause my buddy just told me that some mares have been going around giving away real nice things, and when he looked in your cart, well, it had some real nice things.” His eyes landed on her. “Now, where’d you get all that?” 

“We stole them,” Rainbow replied immediately. She inched towards Rarity, her wing itching to splay out protectively. “Okay? And you can keep them if you want. That what you want? Well, you got it.” 

“No.” His eyes were still on Rarity. “I want her.” He tilted his head slightly. “See, I don’t think you stole them. I think this pretty pony is from the city, and the things in your cart are hers, and I bet her family would pay plenty to have her come home safe.” 

Rarity breathed in. Ah.

She thought of her family. She thought of Twilight. She’d never get to see her again, would she?

“Excuse me.” Wheatgerm had approached them, her polite smile completely at odds with the entire situation. She flanked Rarity on her left side, the princess encased between her and Rainbow. “I think you should let them go.” 

Rarity gawked at her. What was she doing? What was the point of having told her to stay away if she was going to get herself involved? 

“I think you should mind your own business,” the pegasus spat. 

Wheatgerm’s smile dropped. When next she spoke, her tone was exactingly calm. “The kingdom is having the worst snowstorm we’ve seen in centuries. Everyone is desperate and hungry and acting irrationally. You may think this is a good idea, but I promise you, it’s not. So—”

“I don’t know who you think—” 

“I’m not done,” she interrupted, unflinchingly collected. “You have two options. Either you do as I ask and we all have a nice rest of our day, or you don’t, and my friend Nunya and I make you our business, and you really don’t want that. So!” Wheatgerm’s polite smile returned. “I’m going to ask you one last time,” she said. “Let them go.” 

He did no such thing, but everypony else in the tavern certainly did, rising in unison. 

Rainbow’s wings splayed out. “Yanno, at least this is gonna wake me up for sure.” She glanced at the earth pony. “You better deliver, Wheatie.” 

But Wheatgerm had no quip for her. Instead, she turned to look and locked eyes with Rarity. “Bathroom window.”  

Without conscious thought, compelled entirely by the mare’s tone, Rarity blinked once, twice, thrice, and she was galloping towards the back of the establishment before she’d even realized, maneuvering past thugs, only just catching sight of Wheatgerm and Rainbow throwing themselves at the pegasus as she slammed the bathroom door shut. 

And just in time, too. A second after she bolted it closed, she screamed as somepony on the other side slammed themselves against the door, the handle jiggling furiously. 

She was going to die here, she thought, backtracking against the wall, crashing and yells coming from the other room. She was going to die in a grimy, filthy tavern miles away from home, away from her mother and father, away from her sister, and her friends, and away from Twilight.

Twilight.

“No,” she said, and then hissed, tears filling her eyes, “No. I am not going to die here. I refuse.”

Twilight Sparkle had not put her through hundreds of hours of agonizing self-defense lessons and quizzes for her to die without a fight. 

Remembering Wheatgerm’s words, she turned round and nearly cried in relief at the sight of a window large enough she could jump through. It was unfortunate, then, that as she rushed towards it to open it, the stallion from outside appeared, slamming his hooves against the window, grinning when she backtracked with a scream.

He slammed his hoof against the window lock, breaking it open and clambering through, and soon enough, Rarity was scrambling away from the stallion and the wind and snow joining her inside the bathroom. 

His hungry gaze was on her at once. 

“Going somewhere, doll?” 

It happened quite fast. 

The stallion lunged at her, and the next she heard was his howl of pain as he tumbled back, his hoof over the long, lovely crimson gash she’d just carved on his face with the small dagger Twilight always made her carry. 

“You—You bitch!” he snarled. 

“Don’t you ever dare to try to touch me again, you disgusting, slimy barbarian,” she hissed, levitating the dagger before her like a shield. 

Unfortunately, he did in fact try and touch her again, snarling with rage as he once again lunged towards her. She took another swipe at him, aiming for his face, only for the stallion to duck out of the way and smash headlong into her. The weight of him was too much, shoving her against a porcelain sink that shattered behind her, an exposed jagged edge gashing open the side of her barrel. 

She collapsed on the floor, all but blinded by the sudden pain, feeling she might pass out. The stallion stood up and seized her by her garments, clearly ready to take a swing at her.

He stopped.

He stopped, dropped her to the floor and stepped back, eyes wide.

If the shock of that didn’t drag her mind back towards clarity, his next two words certainly did. 

“Princess Rarity?” he asked. The shock of the pain had been enough to break her focus on the spell. 

He stared at her one, two, three seconds, and her heart sank when a predatory smile slithered onto his feature. 

“Oh,” he said, and licked his lips. “Jackpot.” 

“Help.” It was a whisper at first, the most she could manage, until the stallion stepped towards her, and she summoned the last shred of her strength to scream like she was being murdered. “RAINBOW DASH, HELP! HELP!” 

When nothing happened, the stallion spat on her.

“Shut up, bit—” 

There were many ways of opening a bathroom door. One of them, it turned out, was by splintering it open with the full-force of one’s body. Said body didn’t necessarily have to be one’s own, and in fact, that pegasus thug from the main room just the thing, his body slamming against the bathroom wall, trailing splinters and almost taking his associate down with him. 

The stallion practically leapt back into Rarity, his gaze wheeling to his groaning friend half-passed out on the floor, and then to none other than Wheatgerm as she charged into the bathroom. Not even a second later, he whirled round, grabbed a terrified Rarity, and held her against him, his foreleg pressed against her windpipe. 

“Don’t move,” he hissed, “or I’ll kill the princess.” 

Wheatgerm’s eyes roamed the princess, lingering briefly on the gash on her stomach, before settling on the stallion’s own gaze. 

“Let her go,” she said, calmly. 

“Wheatie!” Rainbow called from the other room, from the sounds of it smashing something against someone. “What’s going on?!” 

“I’m taking care of it,” she called back, her gaze set on Rarity and the stallion. “Stay out!” 

“Weapons,” snarled the stallion. “You have any? Drop them.” 

“I don’t have any,” she replied. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

Wheatgerm raised an eyebrow. “You’re welcome to come inspect me.”

“Shut up.” The stallion tightened his grip on Rarity’s neck. “Where is she, Princess? Well?!”

She swallowed, having difficulty breathing. “Where’s who?”  

“Your guard. Twilight Sparkle. Everypony knows she’s always with you. Where is she?” 

“She—She’s not here,” she replied, her voice breaking. 

“Don’t lie to me.” 

“I’m not,” she said, gutted, crushed by the weight of knowing that. ”I made sure of it.”

“Let her go,” Wheatgerm repeated, for the first time sounding affected. “Don’t make me ask again.” 

“Screw you,” he snarled. He nodded towards Rarity’s dagger on the floor. “The knife. Kick it here.” 

Another moment, and Wheatgerm complied, kicking the dagger towards him. It landed a few feet away, and just as he scooched Rarity and him towards it, he accidentally brushed his other foreleg against her injury, the princess gasping with pain. 

“Please,” she begged, fresh tears wetting her eyes. 

“Aw, princess, it’s okay,” he purred in her ear, brushing his forehoof against injury—against her stomach—in a slow, almost humiliatingly sensual way. “It’s just a flesh wound. Now, be good and—”

First, he abruptly stopped talking. Next, Rarity felt him being jerked away from her like a ragdoll, and then finally she turned around to see him magically floating in the air, screaming in agony at the dagger somehow half-impaled into the hoof he’d touched her with. 

Rarity stared up, flabbergasted. “How—” 

“Your Highness.” Wheatgerm—an earth pony!—stepped forward, her voice severe. “Please, get behind me.” 

“But—But—” Rarity looked back to the flailing stallion, and it was only then that she noticed the raspberry hues of the magic clutching him. 

“Princess,” Wheatgerm repeated, but when Rarity turned to look, the perception spell no longer working on her, her eyes welled up with tears at the sight of none other than her personal bodyguard, horn ablaze with magic, heavy bags under her eyes, looking like she’d gone through hell and back to be there. 

Rarity didn’t have to be told a third time, swallowing the pain as she got up and rushed to hide behind Twilight Sparkle. 

Twilight glanced at her. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” 

Rarity shook her head. “No.” 

A split-second pause, and then Twilight spoke again, an edge to her voice. “Did he touch you anywhere else?” 

“No,” Rarity said, at once, horrified not just at the suggestion, but at the fact that if Twilight hadn’t been there, then… later… well. 

“My hoof!” The stallion interrupted her thoughts with an agonized howl. Rarity stared with shock at the blood coating most of his foreleg. She’d never seen that much blood in her life. In fact, she’d never seen Twilight ever draw blood until now. “I can’t feel it! I can’t—” 

Whatever he couldn’t do was irrelevant seeing as he summarily slammed against a wall and completely magically immobilized, his face held in such a way that he had to look at Twilight through his wall of tears. 

“Shut up,” she snarled. “It’s just a flesh wound. You’ll get proper treatment in the castle before you go to the dungeons.” 

“Geez!” They looked to see an absolutely exhausted Rainbow Dash wobbling in, one of her cheeks swelling badly, her vision obscured by the hoof she was rubbing her eyes with. “I think I took care of the rest of them.” 

When she stopped and her hoof lowered, her sights first fell on the pegasus thug, still groaning on the floor. “Oh, oof.” Then on the stallion floating against the wall. “Oh, what?!” And then on Twilight, the illusion spell gone. “Oh, crap!” Delight colored her expression. “Twilight!” Delight quickly became horror at seeing the wound on Rarity’s stomach. “Oh, no!” Then terror when she looked back to Twilight. “Oh, goddesses.” 

“I’m fine,” Rarity quickly exclaimed, as if that might protect her from whatever Twilight intended for her. She tried to rush to Rainbow to act as a physical shield of sorts, but the second she moved an inch away from Twilight, her guard grabbed her with a hoof. 

“No. With me, Princess,” Twilight commanded, and though her tone was harsh, Rarity knew her well enough to hear the strain in her tone. Twilight then looked back to the stallion struggling against the wall, her voice composed. “Rainbow, go find rope to tie these two up.” 

Rainbow faltered. “Sure. Okay.” She took a step back. “But. Like. You’re not pissed at me? We’re good?” 

‘Rainbow, just go,’ Rarity urgently mouthed, which was not quite as effective as when Twilight’s head slowly turned towards Rainbow, her eyes expressionless. 

“Rainbow Dash,” she said, and no more as Rainbow all but rocketed out of there the second she opened her mouth. 

In the three minutes it took Rainbow to return, Rarity and Twilight barely spoke. She was hoping Twilight would be the first to speak, but she just kept her focus on the miscreants, only occasionally looking back to monitor Rarity’s wound. 

When Rainbow came back with the rope, she was also carrying bandages and alcohol.

“Tie them up,” Twilight instructed, dumping one stallion on top of the other, then stepping back to let Rainbow get to work, “then bandage his wound, then go and deal with the ones outside. If the cooks haven’t left yet, make sure they do.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Rainbow said, distracted slightly by glancing worriedly towards Rarity’s injury. 

“I’ll take care of the princess,” Twilight said, her tone softening but only just. She grabbed some of the bandages and the bottle of alcohol, then gestured towards the bathroom exit. “Princess, can you walk?” 

Rarity only nodded, silently obeying as Twilight gestured her out of the room, away from her attacker. Stepping into the bar, Rarity’s pain was momentarily forgotten from the shock of seeing the state of the place. Tables overturned, several chairs smashed apart, and the rest of the patrons—or thugs, as it turned out—scattered about on the floor in varying degrees of consciousness.  

Twilight quickly guided her towards a corner of the bar, her magic teleporting the remnants of a table away and clearing space for the two of them. She then gestured to a specific spot. 

“Sit there,” she ordered, tersely, but when Rarity winced visibly, her tone softened slightly. “Please, princess.” 

Rarity, again, obeyed without a word, wincing slightly when sitting contracted her injured stomach muscles. 

“I’m going to have to restrain you with magic. All right?” 

Rarity faltered. 

“All right?” Twilight asked, firm. 

“Yes,” Rarity quickly replied, chastised. 

“Okay.” A pause. “Thank you.” 

Rarity said nothing. 

Twilight breathed out. “Right.” She faltered a moment, and then loosened a belt from her garments, pulling it out completely and presenting it to the princess. “Please don’t protest,” she said. She sounded tense. “It’ll make it easier.” 

Rarity’s gaze widened with concern. “Protest what?” 

The belt was now in front of her mouth. 

“I’m going to put this in your mouth, and I need you to bite down.” 

“All right,” Rarity replied, weakly, trying not to be disgusted. What else could she say? She wasn’t about to say no and risk Twilight’s anger.  “You’ll tell me when to bite?”

“I won’t have to tell you.” Magic gripped Rarity’s body, immobilizing her in a sitting position, her forehooves lifted. “You’ll know when. It’s to help cope with the pain.” 

“All right,” Rarity whispered, harrowed. Frightened tears filled her eyes. But she knew this could happen, didn’t she? She knew this would be dangerous. She knew she might get hurt. She knew, she knew, she—

Twilight pulled off the bottle’s cork with her mouth, the stench of alcohol wafting out. She soaked a clean bandage in it and then, finally, she looked up, twin pools of exhausted violet meeting terrified sapphire eyes. 

“Open your mouth, please.” 

Rarity did as much, but before the belt could even touch her lips, she yelped, “Wait.” 

Twilight waited. 

“What happens now?” 

She had to know. The dread of the agonizing pain she was about to endure felt trivial compared to what she felt for not knowing the consequence of her actions. 

“Princess, please,” Twilight whispered in reply, her gaze lowering, “open your mouth.” 

So she did, dread transforming into terror when she closed her mouth over the belt and Twilight moved the dripping-wet bandage towards her wound. 

And then stopped inches before it, hesitating, her eyes distant and far away as Rarity knew them to get when Twilight was debating a matter. 

And making a choice. 

“You ran away from the castle.” It was difficult not to sound cold when every word one says is chillingly factual. “You put yourself at the mercy of a storm you’re not prepared for, you left the king and queen waiting to hear whether or not their daughter was dead, and if I—” She breathed. “If I had been even five minutes later, you could have been dead, or worse. All to follow a prophecy that probably isn’t even real or—” 

Rarity spat out the belt, and spoke before Twilight could.

“What was my alternative?” she asked. She was not going to cry. “Let my father die? Sit there in my room and wait out his death, politely wait for the storm to end, if it even ends, be the good quiet princess like everypony expects me to be?” 

She was not going to cry, and she was not going to back down, even as Twilight’s gaze narrowed. 

“Princess, nopony expects you to be anything.”

“You’re right about that,” Rarity said. “Nopony expects anything from me because nopony thinks spoiled princess Rarity is good for anything but lounging in bed eating chocolate truffles and then going to the spa. Everypony expected me to sit there with everpony else and wait for him to die, useless and incompetent like you all already think I am.”  

“I don’t think you’re incompetent,” Twilight said, quietly. 

“Don’t you?” Rarity asked, and how it stung to feel tears in her eyes. “Yes, you do, Twilight. Because if you didn’t, if you weren’t so convinced I’m too prissy to follow my heart the second it involves leaving the castle, you would have never left me out of your sight the second I found out about the prophecy.” 

“I trusted you.” 

“No, you don’t. If you did, it was you I would have snuck out of the castle with yesterday, not Rainbow Dash.” 

“Princess…” 

“And maybe I am incompetent,” the princess continued, relentless. “Maybe I am selfish, and stupid, and useless, and a disgrace to the royal family, only good for parties. But I am also very good at being stubborn, and I’m going to save father even if the only ponies standing by me are Pinkie and Rainbow Dash. I’m going to save him and the whole kingdom from the winter even if the chances are remote, because what were our chances otherwise? I expected everypony to put me down, regardless, and if I fail and die out here and it turns out they’re right, perhaps that’s better for the kingdom.” 

She could see the pain in Twilight’s eyes, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t like her life wasn’t about to end one way or another. 

“Better to start fresh with a new princess who’ll be happy to give her entire life away to the throne from the start! Get married to a prince, get to business, and birth half a dozen heirs not against her own will.” 

The wind howled outside. 

The belt floated up, right near Rarity’s mouth. 

“Your Highness” Twilight’s voice was barely audible, her gaze unwilling to meet Rarity’s. “Please open your mouth.”

Rarity obeyed, opening her mouth and biting down on the belt. She watched as the soaking wet bandage hovered near her skin. 

“I’m sorry,” she finished, quietly, seconds before alcohol burned flesh. “This is going to hurt.”  

Twilight lied, it turned out. 

Biting down on the belt didn’t help with the pain. It only muffled a long, long-awaited scream.