Ginger Root was assigned to the bride of the Princess for a few reasons, but mostly because she was one of the only ponies who could speak Saddle Arabian. They had servants who spoke Yakistani, Draconic, Seaponish, etc.
 
She tried to not think about trivial matters like that too much, but her mind tended to wander when she was nervous.
 
Even though she could speak it she was asked to not let Sahar do so. Supposedly she “needed to learn Equish fluently, upside, and backwards” if she was going to be royalty successfully. Ginger felt pretty badly about it though.
 
“Today is table ettiquette day, so we’re heading to the dining room. It’ll just be the two of us!”
 
She told Sahar as they arrived, keeping vigilant to, at the very least, help her out if she didn’t understand something.
 
“Etiquette we have too, in Saddle Arabia!”
 
Sahar had been nervous and quiet since the wedding, struggling to cope with the culture shock she was experiencing in her new home. But similarities between Saddle Arabia and Equestria brought her some comfort, so she perked up at the reminder of her homeland.
 
Ginger returned her smile politely as she spoke, something in her heart wrenching when she had to correct her excitement.
 
“We have etiquette in Saddle Arabia as well, Princess. Don’t worry about that though. Come sit down!”
 
She lead the mare to the table where there was a plate along with way too much cutlery. The wine glass was full and there was bread on a dish, along with some indiscernable mystery food that was made to look fancy.
 
“Sit down for me and pick up the dinner fork.”
 
Sahar sat in her seat and looked down at the table set with confusion. There were three forks here! Not to mention multiples of all the other cutlery. She’d already forgotten what each one was for from the last lesson, but how could anypony remember which was which? It was much too complicated.
 
She picked one up sheepishly.
 
“This is the dinner fork?”
 
To be entirely honest, Ginger didn’t know which fork was which either.
 
She had to study half the night just to make sure she could help properly herself! She picked up the right fork and showed it to Sahar, her mouth moving up and down with no words as she struggled to figure out what exactly to do.
 
After a few moments she sighed deeply, putting down the fork and deciding that she wasn’t going to sit here and torture the mare twofold. So she began speaking in the language Sahar knew best.
 
“Nopony uses these old rules anymore except for the royals at really important events, but with Her Majesty that happens quite a bit around here…”
 
Referring to the one Sahar was married to.
 
“I know it’s frustrating but you have to memorize it. This is the salad fork and this is the dessert fork, they have four tines while the dinner fork has one. If you learn that you’ll do well. Try again.”
 
It was like a dam broke when Sahar heard her own language being spoken to her, she couldn’t hold back her feelings anymore. A sob escaped her as she replied.
 
“I have been trying! Over and over again! I cannot get it right, no matter what I do!”
 
She slumped down onto the table, with enough force to topple the wine glass in front of her.
 
“And Heavenly is no help at all! She is so cold, like she hardly cares! You are the only one who truly does.”
 
The tears stung Ginger’s heart almost as deeply as they seemed to sting Sahar. She was so engrossed in listening to Sahar that she didn’t even notice the spilled wine for a few good minutes.
 
“It’s not you, Your Majesty! Trust me-”
 
She leaned in close to whisper, her voice shaking as she struggled to sound cheerful. She knew how much this must hurt and she wasn’t going to make matters worse by being anxious.
 
“I know how cold Her Majesty can be. I’m here for you. I mean, it’s literally my job, but I’m here for you, for more than just mare-waiting stuff. How about we say you got it all right and do something you want?”
 
Ginger perked up as she riskily used her hooves to lift Sahar’s head, giving her a beaming smile.
 
“How does that sound?”
 
Sahar smiled through her tears, feeling more reassured than she had in a long time.
 
“That sounds wonderful. You truly are a bright spot in my life…”
 
A new nickname came to her mind for Ginger, a name from her homeland.
 
“My dear friend, Diya.”