The Duchess of Canterlot stared into the small but heavily reinforced display case like a fox peeking into a henhouse, which was an expression she specifically avoided using within hearing distance of Fluttershy. This wasn't a common concern for her these days, since Rarity had lived in Canterlot for over a decade now. In a typical month she would see Fluttershy perhaps two or three times.

The Hoof of the Crown, however, Rarity visited nearly every day, except when on assignment as a Friendship Ambassador or when summoned into service by the Cutie Map or the Princess herself. In fact, her current appointment in a very well-hidden jewelry shop would have been the perfect opportunity to spend time with Spike. Her favorite dragon had a natural talent for identifying quality gemstones, one that nearly rivalled Pinkie's two elder sisters.

Sadly, this was not an assignment she could permit Spike to attend, or even allow him to know about. Pinkie would give her no end of harassment if she intentionally ruined a surprise this big.

"I've decided. White gold for the band, and... I believe I shall have it set with the pink diamond," she said. "That beautiful stone looks nearly heart-shaped already, so the Crystal Princess cut would be perfect, don't you think?"

The donkey on the other side of the counter appeared flustered. Naturally, he knew who the Duchess was. You don't stand this close to the display case if you can't afford the contents. You don't even get inside the shop, for that matter. But this was, by all reckoning, an unfortunate misunderstanding.

"Your Royal Grace—" he began.

"It isn't Royal Grace, it's just Grace—I'm still unwed, unwinged, and have no royal blood. Please, just call me Rarity," she insisted.

"Of course, Miss Rarity, and I do agree. Your taste is as impeccable as your standing. However, the pink diamond is a full nine carats, and I must say I would be heartbroken to split it... pun not intended," he said dryly. "The Crystal Princess cut would likely reduce it to eight, but I strongly prefer to keep at least eight carats together. It's such a splendid gem, as your keen eye has witnessed."

Rarity didn't bother to tell him it was the incredibly subtle scent of the diamond that tipped her off to its quality. He'd never have believed her, after all.

"Not a problem, darling. I want the full stone. I'll even buy the remaining bits if I must, but I presume those would sell very quickly for you," she said.

The donkey's face drew down. "Madam," he said, his voice hushed despite the lack of any other clientele currently in his tiny shop. "This is the most expensive gem I have ever owned, and you know of my reputation or you never would have found my place of business. Eight carats alone would be..." he said, then paused in deep thought.

Rarity realized that the jack hadn't planned on selling this remarkable stone so quickly, if ever. She wasn't surprised.

His voice remained quiet but rumbled as slow and soft as a Yakyakian duck down cushion glued to the floor. "...at least eleven point three *million* bits, possibly a small percentage more. I deeply apologize for the shock," he said.

Rarity gasped. "Oh my. Well then, I suppose I *do* have one last question for you. Do you take cash?"

"Do I... beg pardon?"

The Duchess's white horn shimmered in cornflower blue, and a horizontal portal disc appeared beside her. Canterlot Sovereigns began pouring out onto the floor.

The jeweler stared at the growing pile for a full four seconds before attempting to speak up over the din.

"Sweet Heavenly Spheres. I've never seen so much peeving rhodium in all my life," he croaked.

*****

Spike chuckled as he held his hands over his eyes. "How long do I need to do this, Rarity? If it's another expensive gift, I told you, you can stop—Twi and I are much wealthier than you are," he said.

"You got me, I'm afraid. Yes, it's the most expensive gift yet, and I saved up all my earnings from that last fiasco just for this final offering. But it's for a very good reason, I swear!" she said, levitating the already open jewelry box in front of his face. "Now, look!"

"Rarity, you can't keep..." said Spike, as he opened his eyes. Then he froze in shock.

"So... what do you think? I think the color choice is perfect for your scales... and..." began Rarity, but the look on Spike's face had gone from shock, to... concern, perhaps?

No. Something about this was very wrong.

Rarity knew she could read the emotion she was seeing in her good friend's face, and she had seen it a hoofful of times before in her forty-five years, but for some reason she could place neither the name of the emotion nor its meaning. It was something like concern, but... worse.

She did, at least, recognize that the temporary schizophrenia she was currently experiencing was a very bad sign for her mental health. She'd discuss it with her therapist later, she reasoned.

"Rarity. You... *really* shouldn't have..." he said, before catching a whiff of the gem itself. "Dear Celestia! A pink diamond of this size and quality?! I've never seen anything like this before. Please tell me this didn't take you down seven digits' worth of bits!"

Rarity blinked a few times. "Seven digits? No, not seven..." she said, unable to keep the tremulo out of her voice.

"Oh my Sun. You spent more than *ten million bits* on a ring?!" said Spike, one hand gripping the side of his face as though it were keeping him upright.

"Oh, not much more. Fewer than twelve, in fact," said Rarity, pouting. "But Spikey-Wikey, this is the most important purchase of my life! It's not a complete waste, even if you only use it for formal occasions. Why, it could become one of the Crown Jewels if you and Twilight wish. You aren't obligated to wear it all of the..."

That look on Spike's face intensified. What emotion *was* that? It was clearer to the eye than a non-pink diamond, yet Rarity still couldn't place it. It was painful even to think about it, honestly.

Spike knelt. "Rarity, I think you might need a hug right now. I understand if you don't want one, but I'm your friend and I'm here for you." The dragon held his arms open wide.

"Why in Equestria would I need a hug?" said Rarity. She wiped the side of her cheek with her pastern, leaving a black mascara mark. She sniffled. That was odd. She appeared to be crying.

"Rarity, please let me give you a hug," repeated Spike.

"But the hug comes *after* you formally accept the wedding proposal, darling," said Rarity, her eyes narrowing as she studied his face. There was compassion there, to be sure, and deep concern, almost grief... what in Tartarus was Spike feeling?

Oh, thought Rarity, as the light in her head finally, though very reluctantly switched on.

*Pity.*

*****

It had been three weeks.

Somepony knocked on her door. Rarity opened it. It was Spike.

"Raritypleaseweneedtotalk—"

"Come in," she said.

He did, shutting the door behind him. "I'm glad you're... doing okay," he said. The pair sat down together at a table with specially reinforced iron stools.

"It's been nearly a month, Spike. I'm not a drama queen," said Rarity.

Spike opened his mouth, then reclosed it. Rarity interpreted this as him opting not to make the obvious 'of course not, you're a drama duchess' joke.

"I'm... sorry," said Spike.

"I know. Spike, may I ask you something personal?"

"Sure. That's why I came here," he said. "You've been afraid to talk to me, and this is a conversation we both need."

"Yes. So then. When did you fall out of love with me?" she asked.

Spike rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Right. Well... it's hard to say. I guess I stopped thinking of us having a future together around, oh... a thousand five, maybe six."

Rarity looked down at the table, her eyes staring through it. "As early as then? You and Twilight moved to Canterlot in oh five!"

Spike shrugged. "I didn't think you were interested in me—I mean, I knew you weren't, though that wasn't really the reason I gave up—but regardless, I feel bad for not warning you before you moved here. I thought you came here just for your career, not for me."

Rarity sighed and looked back up at Spike. Her unusual friend was a bit on the large side, extremely 'exotic' (which made him popular with even the snobbiest unicorns in Canterlot), though not exactly the sort of creature to turn most ponies' heads, for natural evolutionary reasons of course. Yet all of that paled against his charm, his personality, his continued innocence in the face of mortal danger... and his Friendship.

"I did move here solely for my career, yes. Knowing you were here was a perk, of course. You've always been a good friend to me even when... when I took advantage of your young desire to please and impress me," she said.

"It's fine. Yeah, you wronged me a little, but you didn't mean to, and I got over it. I'm even grateful for the memories," he said.

"Then why, Spike? Is it... is it my age, did I simply wait too long to pop the question? I can dye my hair again, get a facelift, perhaps go on a two-part adventure quest for something to make me a bit younger—"

"No. You're as beautiful as ever," said Spike.

Rarity cracked a half-smile. "If you were anycreature else, Spike, I'd wonder whether that were intended as a compliment or shade."

"Heh, sorry. You're beautiful, okay? Take that how you will," said Spike. He looked into Rarity's eyes and his smile faded a little as he took in a deep breath. "I guess it happened when I realized you really, *really* wanted to be with somepony, and even though you didn't know who that pony was, you knew it wasn't me."

"Spike, I didn't know back then... well..." Rarity started, but her voice trailed off weakly as though she hadn't yet considered what she'd intended to say.

Spike slumped a little in his seat, making it creak. "Please answer me truthfully. Honest Applejack, okay? I want you to imagine your dream partner, an imaginary creature who has *all* the characteristics you desire most in a life partner. Rarity's perfect mate. Now, don't picture or visualize what they look like, just think about all the times in your life you've seen a creature and seriously thought to yourself, 'this could be the perfect spouse, they're exactly what I want'," he said.

Rarity swallowed air.

"How often was it me?"

Rarity closed her eyes. "Spike, please. Nopony's perfect. Or dragon, you know what I mean. The dreams I've had are of... perfection that cannot actually exist," she said. "They were... immature, based upon a primitive understanding of what a relationship actually requires."

"Yes, I understand. I was like that too. But you had those fantasies of perfection about *other ponies*. They were immature and unrealistic, sure, but they were about real ponies you wanted to be with," said Spike. "I watched you crush on ponies over and over again for five years. And then you did it again even after moving here."

"So you fell out of love with me when you realized you were never the object of my desire," whispered Rarity. "That's... fair, I suppose."

Spike placed his hand gently on Rarity's hoof. "I didn't say I fell out of love with you, Rarity. I only said that's when I knew you weren't interested in me," he said. "Honestly, I don't think I ever did fall out of love with you. I just... woke up, I guess. I realized that I wasn't a pony, but I was still a good person, and I'm worth more to a relationship than just being a curiosity or a side piece."

"Spike, I do want you. I'm not lying. I just... didn't know better," said Rarity. "You don't understand what I have to go through."

"I want to understand. Try me?" said Spike.

Rarity took in a deep, cleansing breath. "I strive for perfection, Spike."

"I know. You're an amazing and talented artist, and you hold yourself to a high standard," said Spike.

Rarity nodded. "Yes, but far worse. My standards are impossibly high. Nopony is ever good enough. No food or drink is good enough. No experience is good enough. Nothing I ever do is good enough for me. And most of all, *I'm* not good enough," she whispered.

"Rarity..." said Spike, his expression pained.

"I'm a self-made mare because my immediate family—my lovely, perfect in every way family—isn't good enough. I'm so ashamed of my humble upbringing, I've tried to escape it ever since I was a little filly. I should take pride in defining myself, yet I'm ashamed of that too. And now that I'm aging, even though I'm doing so somewhat gracefully, perfection is no longer slipping from my grasp. It's so far from me, I can't even see it in the mirror anymore. Every accomplishment feels less than it could be; pyrrhic."

"Perfection doesn't exist, Rarity. If you judge yourself by it, or anypony else for that matter, you'll always be disappointed," said Spike, his voice soft.

"I understand that, yes, and I've tried. But the problem is more nebulous. Perfection may not exist, but it can be approached," said Rarity, turning her head to look out the castle window. "Things can always be much worse, and things can always be much better."

She turned back to him, her eyes weary. "But how can I know when I've made the best decision? There's always a better option out there. Always. Certainly in the wider multiverse, but even in Equestria alone. What if a choice I make keeps me from attaining the kind of faerie-tale happiness I've always dreamed of, just because I wasn't patient enough to wait for a better option?"

"This is why you've become withdrawn," realized Spike. "Why you're semi-retired. Isn't it?"

Rarity nodded, and smiled forcefully enough to keep the tears from forming. "I'm paralyzed by fear, Spike. I always have been, but as I age and my faculties begin to fail me, it gets harder and harder to fight. It's like... if Twilight had a brain tumor—sorry for the macabre example, it's just the simplest one—and lost, say, half her intelligence? She'd still be a genius, but I don't think she'd push herself as hard. It's difficult to become a pale imitation of who you once were."

"That isn't an accurate view of yourself. You should reach out to your friends more. Dash went through something like what you're going through, you know that," said Spike. "You aren't a failure for making a suboptimal decision, and I know that's hard for a perfectionist to accept. Tartarus, it took Twilight thirty years to learn that Friendship lesson herself! But I admit I don't see what this has to do with your relationships."

"It's the same thing there. Maybe I'll pick the wrong pony, or dragon," said Rarity. "And before you say it, yes, I know that it's selfish! If I love you, I should want to marry you as much for *your* happiness as for mine! And that *does* enter the equation, I swear that it does. But when you were a child, I knew it wasn't in either of our best interests. After that, once you moved to Canterlot and had your second molt... I don't know," she said, closing her eyes tightly.

When she opened them again, they were misty. "It seemed so unlikely it could work out. It was a big risk: an 'unknown quantity' as Twilight would put it. My fear of a better option coming along kept me from getting close to you, or anypony else. Did you know... I'm still a virgin?"

Spike nodded, to Rarity's clear surprise. "Y'know. Dragon olfaction," he said, grimacing.

"Ah. I should have supposed. Well, my larger point is that I've never been able to get emotionally close to... to anycreature I've found desirable, with the notable exception of Applejack. But honestly, I'm glad she's with Dash. They... really are perfect for each other."

"Well, we can't fairly hold ourselves to the AppleDash standard either," joked Spike. "That's almost as lofty as perfection. Maybe even worse."

"Humor aside, do you understand me? Yes, I'm afraid that we—not you, but the combined 'us'—might not be the best choice. That doesn't mean I don't want you. It means..." Rarity said, and sighed. "It just means I'm mentally ill, and I'm frightened. I still want to marry you, you know."

Spike paused and nodded. "I think the problem is that I agree with your fear," he said. "I mean, I think somepony better for you than I will come along soon."

"Spike, I don't care if they do. I still want you."

"I know you do. But I'm not going to let you *settle* for me. And I mean that as much for me as I do for you," said Spike, and several seconds passed in silence before he continued.

"I want to be somepony's first choice. I don't mean their first love, I just mean I want them to feel like I'm the one they've dreamed about, that I can fill that role and have a chance to meet their expectations. And someday, I will. Maybe even more than once, assuming it's not a dragon who could more likely outlive me. The lifespan mismatch between us is pretty bad but I've never been attracted to drakines, or even other drakes for that matter. But either way, I still love you... just as friends."

"You're right, Spike," said Rarity, her voice flat and emotionless. "I don't know how I failed to consider your needs and feelings. I think... perhaps I view others unrealistically. I know I do with myself."

Spike sat up straight. "This is good, this is progress. Okay, minor reveal here: I need you to speak with your therapist tonight. I called her in advance, and she'll come here at Sunset and the Guard are expecting her. Please don't leave the castle," he said.

"I'm fine, Spike," whispered Rarity.

"No, you aren't. And you're still the most eligible catch in Canterlot, with a lot of love in your future. I know you'll find someone who is an even better fit for you if you're willing to be realistic about what you want. Twilight says she'll buy the ring off of you if you need her to, and she promises not to display it until next century..."

"I'm *fine*," said Rarity, stiffly. "Seriously, I'm not going anywhere else today, I promise."

Spike nodded. "Okay. Thank you. We'll get through this, okay?" He then reached over the table for an awkward hug.

*****

"The Guard have been alerted, but I don't think it matters. I can't even get a signal," said Princess Twilight Sparkle.

"Oh, oh no—" said Spike, still walking toward the dias.

"It's okay, Spike. That doesn't mean that anything bad happened to her. If she died under most circumstances, I'd be able to detect her body," she explained. "Er, sorry. I'm not always good at saying comforting things. But I'm pretty sure she didn't do what you're thinking she did."

Spike exhaled a sigh of relief so deep the hidden flames tinting it were cyan. "Okay. So, what does it mean?"

"If she isn't totally disintegrated, either she's being warded by high magic she isn't powerful enough to cast... well, that's what it has to be. The other possibility is even more ridic—"

*The environment in the throne room flickered.*

The painful wrench of an involuntary teleport was almost a welcome respite from Spike's worries about Rarity, but the protective sphere clamped around them both the moment he appeared directly by Twilight's side.

Everything outside the sphere disappeared, but it happened in the oddest way. It felt more like waking up from a dream and realizing that none of what you thought was real had ever truly existed in the first place. The guards, the castle, the city.

The entire universe.

Apart from the bubble and its contents, of course.

"Horsefeathers, Rarity!" cursed Twilight, her horn continuing to pulse with magenta light.

"Oooookay then. I'm just going to assume, based both on the profanity and the fact that apparently nothing I remember ever existed, that the more ridiculous option is the one Rarity just took," said Spike, sighing.

"Huh. I'm actually impressed this time, Spike," she said, a malaise expression plastered across her muzzle. "There's no way she could have pulled something like this off without an incredibly—"

Twilight abruptly stopped talking and facehoofed.

"Sis?" said Spike, gently.

"It's Star Swirl. It has to be! Ugh... I really hate dealing with him when something like this happens," said Twilight.

Spike lazily floated through a very slow somersault. "Wait, you do? I thought you were good friends? I don't remember you two having a single disagreement since the first time we defeated the Pony of Shadows. Also, he never existed, remember?"

"I'm not talking about the version you've met, Spike. This one is several millennia older—at least," said Twilight. "Sometimes I have no choice but to contact him, and it's generally an annoyance. But I can't contact him when all that exists is the two of us, and when I can't summon simple objects that never existed, like ink and paper..."

Spike's hands covered his mouth and his eyes widened.

"Spike, don't you dare vomit! I'll have to pop the bubble to get away from the stench and then we won't have existed either," upbraided Twilight.

Spike belched a small gout of flame instead, politely aiming away from his sister's face. A thick sheet of parchment reintegrated in front of his eyes.

Spike handed it to the alicorn Princess without even looking at it. "Not sure I even want to know. This is bound to be way over my job description."

"Remember the contract: '...and other duties as assigned', Spike," quipped Twilight, taking the parchment and reading it twice: first to herself, and then out loud.

****"

Dearest Sparkle,

The length of this note is, rather obviously, insufficient to explain why I have allowed your unwittingly selfish, remarkably desperate, and rather fetching young (relatively speaking) friend to alter the *linea temporum primus* in a manner that I can *personally* assure you would set Glimglam herself alight with envy. Rarity is a remarkably motivated mare when she thinks she needs to be.

You may trust this much: however things turn out, you and Spike will be just fine. Feel free to drop the stupid bubble. You won't remember any of this, naturally, but you literally wrote the book on the probabilistic mass underlying consciousness—a much later you, to be sure, but the idea still holds—so you have nothing to worry about.

It's a bit sad nopony will exist to hear the pleasant little popping sound of oblivion inverting the bubble when the spell drops—I do so love that noise, but rarely get the opportunity to indulge.

Say hello and goodbye to Spike for me. He's going to be married to Rarity a few times as she learns more about who she is. I'm afraid she's a slow learner compared to you and I, but then who isn't?

Toodles,

–Over 9,000 Star Swirl (the guy with the beard)

*****

Twilight frowned. "I still can't understand how somepony with Sorcery as his primary Element can be so much like Pinkie Pie."

"Um, Twilight... about the bubble, you're not going to like, murder us both, are you? I don't like the sound of oblivion," said Spike. "I mean, I don't like how the idea of nonexistence feels, I don't mean the popping sound he mentioned, that actually sounds neat but let's still not."

"It's not a big deal, Spike. I don't want you to stress out over this. You'll just... wake up in another timeline, more or less. And there are worse fates than being married to Rarity."

"I agree. But if I am married to her, it's not really me then, is it? If I don't remember any of this, it's like we're just... dying," said Spike, his breath quickening.

"You rarely even remember what you ate for breakfast, you don't worry about ceasing to exist when you're eating, do you?"

"Well, now maybe I might!" said Spike, huffing.

"Don't hyperventilate, Spike. As of the Rariclysm, which I am allowed to name because dictionaries never existed in the first place, significantly fewer than one ronna diatomic oxygen molecules exist," said Twilight. "And some of those just oxidized when you belched. There's maybe twenty yotta in here with us, tops."

"Twi, you have to do something. I'm having an existential crisis," said Spike, his face contorting with worry.

A look of compassion crossed Twilight's muzzle. "It won't even hurt. Ugh... I'm sorry, Spike. I wish I knew how to solve this problem—oh!" she said, and her face brightened. "It's so simple. I'll just use the Element of Laughter."

"Laughter? How will that help?"

Twilight Sparkle smiled a soft smile in the manner she'd picked up from Princess Celestia. Spike noticed an uncanny resemblance.

"Spike, oblivion says what?" asked Twilight.

"What?" replied Spike, confused.

(pop)

*****

"Boo."

Rarity shrieked and jumped straight up before crashing to the cavern floor. "You awful cur!" she hissed. "How do I never hear those damnable bells!?"

Star Swirl shrugged. "I just turn off the sound."

Rarity blinked several times. "They're... magitronic bells? But aren't the mage hat and cloak you wear, well, ancient?"

"Ah, I misspoke. I meant to say 'I just turn off sound'," he said. "Anyhoo, I see you are here in my private chambers once again," said Star Swirl, stroking his eponymous beard.

Rarity grumbled and dusted herself off. "I'm getting too old for this, Swirl."

"Oh come now. You are exactly as old as you were the first time we had this conversation," he pointed out.

"Yes, but I only remember bits and pieces of the other times. Oh wait. You're saying I'm not aging by doing this repeatedly. My body, at least. Well, obviously," said Rarity. "Regardless, we have to do it again. I was worried about this time for good reason. It was a huge mistake to increase how much I doted upon him back when we both lived in Ponyville, I basically ended up, um..." she said, then winced.

"I believe the word you're trying to force out is 'grooming'," said Star Swirl, and Rarity cringed. "But I disagree. You were never inappropriate with him, Rarity. But you're correct that it's a concern if you're so close to him before he matures emotionally, and you shouldn't be steering his emotional development toward a relationship. It's predatory, to be direct."

Rarity rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, I know. But I'm doing this as much for him as for me! You promised we could be happy together if I played your little... How many times have I done this now, five? Six?"

"One hundred and thirty..."

"What?! You... you're joking. Please tell me you're joking," said Rarity, stifling a mad giggle.

"I... wasn't finished."

"What, one hundred thirty-nine? Wait. Oh. Oh no. Oh no no no. Horseshit, Swirl. Do I even want to hear the number?"

He sighed. "In fairness, it would take some time to teach you the extended numeric system... and a bit longer than that to say the actual number."

"You're kidding... now? Yes?"

"No."

"Moon and Stars! Why did you let this happen? Why do this when I barely remember any of it, when I clearly haven't learned from my mistakes?" she asked. "Do you... enjoy this?"

"Of course not. I have to write a letter to calm down Spike every single time we cycle! I started running out of unique things to say after only the first few trilliard iterations," he said. "Nowacycle, sometimes I simply draw funny pictures instead."

"But why do we keep doing this forever?"

"You never wanted to quit before."

"After so many times? I cannot even fathom!"

"Naturally. But perhaps this will be the one? As I have asked you on countless cycles before, and even now remain hopeful that somecycle, you will have the appropriate loop-shattering epiphanic moment to answer me correctly: *Why do you think you keep trying?* It's not because you forget. The longer we stand here, the more you'll begin to remember previous cycles. Eventually you remember enough to drive you mad, and yet you always insist on continuing."

Rarity paused to think, and nearly just shrugged, but something inside made her push just a *little* bit harder this time. It was something obvious, it had to be. It's like her therapist would tell her, her mind was keeping her in the dark when the truth was right there all along, right in front of her stupid—

"Oh," she said, staring into space. Rarity was rather surprised she still remained standing upright after what felt like the emotional equivalent of an elder dragon's spade directly to the face. "It's so... I can't believe it. I'm doing the same damn thing. It's the exact same problem as before," she said.

"Go on."

"I can't settle. I keep thinking it could be better if I just try *one* more time. But that was the problem all along. I can't accept flaws. I can't accept reality. So I'm never happy," she realized. "I still don't know how to fix myself. But... my underlying behavior still hasn't changed."

"Change will come in time, through the remainder of a normal life... which I believe in your case is overdue," he said, and smiled broadly. "Rarity, I have always had faith in you. And I finally see that it was not misplaced."

"After countless iterations this all seems rather unlikely to me, but whatever," said Rarity. "Does that mean we're free? Whatever should I do now? Must I beg you for a reality where Sparity works out? I don't even care about marrying him at this point! I just want him to be happy, and me to... to not be miserable. That would be enough, I think."

"Oh, pish. I already know of the *perfect* reality, one where Spike and Rarity are both very happy as the years go by," said Star Swirl, with a twinkle in his eye.

Rarity's eyes narrowed. "Swirl, I swear to you, if I end up back where I started after all this, I will kick every version of you I can find square in the..."

"You won't remember any of it, but fear not, is your time here will have changed you," he says. "Are we both ready to finally end this insanity?"

"Wait, if I don't remember, isn't this like... I'm dying?" she asked as the trickster chuckled to himself.

"Rarity... oblivion says what?" asked Star Swirl the Bearded.

*****

Rarity lay in bed for the rest of the day. She felt numb, but it was still the best she'd felt since the initial rejection. Spike was a good friend, and that hadn't changed. If anything, his mature reaction had proven it. Maybe instead of trying to be in a relationship, she should just try to be a better friend.

Spike was right, of course. She'd only been thinking of herself. "I want to fix this, to make it perfect... but I just realized that's the same problem as the one that got me here! I was so afraid of things being imperfect, I wasn't able to appreciate them when they practically were. I don't know why it was so hard for me to realize this," she said, and sighed. "How do you improve your situation when the very problem is an inappropriate need for self-improvement? Goodness. Thank the Tree he contacted my therapist. Spike was truly looking out for me, as always."

A knock on the door brought Rarity to her senses. She trotted up, opened it, and into her part of the castle trotted an old wizard.

"What the... Star Swirl the Bearded? You're not my therapist," said Rarity, as the old unicorn kicked the door shut. "She doesn't have a beard."

"How sad. Well, you way consider me her hirsute substitute," he said.

"Hmm. How strange. Alright then, I won't even ask why, because for some reason I'm afraid of the answer, but... I have issues, and it may be hard to get you up to speed," she said, leading him to a couch in the living area.

"Although I am indeed serving as your therapist this evening, in full honesty, I'm primarily here to gossip."

"Huh. Twilight was right about you, Star. You're weird," said Rarity.

"Don't worry, the gossip is psychologically beneficial. I'll give you a little spoiler, since you've earned it. Once Spike sees that you've recovered, he changes his mind. The wedding is a little over a year from now. You both wear the most ridiculous looking, cheapest plastic rings you can imagine, don't ask me why," he says.

"What... are you being serious?" asked Rarity, her eyes shining.

"Completely. Tackiest horse apples you've ever seen in your life. And don't even get me started on the bridesmaid dresses," he says.

"That... that is wonderful. Not the rings, of course. The dresses sound fine, bridesmaids are supposed to look like garbage. Not hot garbage, just... ugly colors? So the bride stands out by comparison, that's all," said Rarity. "But... I really should have a therapy session, and I don't even know if you've had access to my records."

"Not as such, but I suspect that I know you much better than you realize."

"Really? I honestly couldn't remember whether we've said more than a word or two in passing," said Rarity.

"We've spoken on more than one occasion," said Star Swirl the Bearded, wearing a smirk that Rarity found mildly irritating.