Rarity True Gift. Ver.2.0

 

I’m Crimson Brew, earth pony, dark coat, gold mane, serving cider with a barbed quip and keener gaze. My collar—human-crafted, gem-fueled—lifts bottles like a unicorn’s charm. Humans, weaving wonders from whines. Tonight, the bar thrums, and there’s Rarity—a storm of a mare, once fashion’s queen, now a mother, her fillies at her side, her belly heavy with new life. Her human stands close, and her fire could burn the stars.

 

I’m Rarity, or I was. The mare who wove Equestria’s dreams, who chased Canterlot’s gleam, lies buried beneath my truth. I built an empire, but it was a hollow altar. Blueblood, a prince of lies, taught me betrayal; high-society herds, colder than frost, offered foals for power, not love. I spurned their hollow honors, and they struck—Manehattan, Appleloosa, my boutiques strangled by their spite. As an Element of Harmony, I’m untouchable; Celestia’s fury razed a house that dared chain Fluttershy. But my heart? It bled.I sought The Portal, a sanctuary where I wasn’t “Rarity, the icon.” He found me—Anon, a human, hands scarred by paint, eyes raw with an artist’s grief. No flattery, only fire. He cursed Filthy Rich, his stolen paintings marked with human ink that sang under moonlight, defying unicorn and dragon magic. I teased, hungry for gossip, but he saw through me. “Whisky, not wine,” he said, his voice a dare. “For the beautiful dame at my side.” My soul trembled. No one had seen me, truly seen me, in years.

 

The night dissolved—whisky’s burn, his laugh, his heat. I woke, entwined with him, his scent—paint, oil, sweat—a wildfire in my lungs. It consumed me, and I craved it, craved him. He saw Rarity, not the Element, not the star. I surrendered all—my empire, my heart, my soul. For him. For us. If I’m a shadow of my past, let them scorn. By Celestia, my love is my truth. His rough hands trace my edges, his breath, once sharp, now my pulse. His scent, raw and alive, kindles a hunger I’ll never sate.

 

Our fillies, Diamond Burst and Glimmer Heart, are my redemption. Diamond, fierce yet fragile, fears she’ll never match my light; she strikes poses, her tiny hooves echoing my flair, chasing a spark she doesn’t know she holds. Glimmer, soft as dawn, dreads losing us; she buries herself in Anon’s arms, her eyes searching for our promise. They’re our miracle, born from a man who saw me, not a noble’s barren vow. Three years later, life answered my pain—gemelos, pure colts, a rarity so profound the hospital’s doctor guards us like a dragon her hoard. My body is his, my soul sings to give him life, to weave love from our fire. This is what I needed—not fame, not gold, but him, our family, our eternity.

 

Once, he wavered, half-joking about a human way to… pause. Our fillies dozed on my back, my colts stirring within, and my gaze—sharp, alive—stilled him. “Don’t you dare,” I whispered, a lover’s command, not a blade. He grinned, sweat on his brow, swearing off Twilight and Shining’s meddling. My love, my blaze—he’s mine, and I am his, bound by a vow deeper than any herd.

 

Crimson Brew here. Rarity’s a tempest, that unicorn, her glare a spark that’d singe a manticore. Twilight and Shining, with their operation talk—never seen a human backpedal so fast! The Portal forges fires, and hers could light the heavens. I’m off to pour tea for that painter; he’s drowning in sweat and love. Good night, folks—who’s next?To be continued.