Sunlit Skies

Twilight Sparkle was panicking. She wished she could claim that this was not an ordinary state of affairs.

The fields of Equestria rolled on beneath the rising morning sun. From her vantage point in the foothills of the Crystal Mountains, the sky stretched on without clouds for miles. She had never seen a bluer sky. Far in the distance behind her, the mountains loomed, mournful glaciers perched high above the treeline. She had been surprised to find that the soil was fertile this far to the north. Even in the winter, ponies tended their fields with care, turning to gaze at the train as it clattered down the rails.

Twilight would have loved nothing more than to be out in that enormous sky, continuing to practice flight. Unfortunately, she was more than a little stuck at the moment. While in her short life she had been in many awkward positions, she’d never had the privilege of being a living teddy bear before. At least, not until two nights ago, when it began happening with alarming frequency.

Although... she mused, maybe it’s not so bad. The swaying rhythm of the train had lulled the mare sitting beside her to sleep. The sunlight caught her mane as she breathed, chest rising and falling gently. Presently, the train hit a larger-than normal bump and the entire car clattered and shook. Sunset Shimmer stirred, mumbling as she woke, and at length opened bleary eyes. She looked tired, but nonetheless grinned upon catching sight of Twilight.

“G’morning,” she yawned, apparently untroubled by the terribly designed wooden seats in the train. Of course, she had been supported more by Twilight than the bench; it was possible that she was a comfortable couch as well as a princess, now.

“It’s well past noon.”

“Not having homework to do or magical theses to write means I get to sleep in for the first time in, well, ever. I mean, it won’t last, but I do plan to enjoy it for as long as I can. And I was just so comfortable,” Sunset said as she curled even closer to Twilight, whose heart was hammering in her throat. Her head turned away from the shock of ruby mane to stare out at the Equestrian countryside once more.

Twilight loved Sunset. She really did. Or, at least, she thought she did, and shouldn’t that be good enough? If not, how could she explain the warm, fuzzy feeling that suffused throughout her entire body whenever they were together? She had never felt that way before that cold night, walking with Sunset Shimmer through the frozen forest. The scientist in her screamed that correlation need not imply causation, but when it came to matters of friendship, that voice had been wrong quite often.

And yet, somehow, something still didn’t feel right. Two days ago romance had been the absolute last thing on her mind. Now here she was, cuddling with a mare on her way back home. It was all too rushed, too fast. Twilight needed time to understand exactly how she felt, and she felt like Sunset wasn’t giving her a moment’s rest. As much as Twilight loved spending time with the mare, the only time she had been alone since Sunset’s return was when she slept, and even that, Twilight imagined, might not last long. No matter how hard Twilight tried not to worry while they were together, she felt as if she needed time to reorder her life.

No matter how desperately Twilight needed space, she still could not bring herself to ask Sunset to leave her alone, if only for a short while. Twilight had spent hours lying awake imagining how that scenario would conclude, and in her mind it always ended with a look of poorly-hidden betrayal on Sunset’s face. By her own admission, Sunset Shimmer had been alone for her entire life. Only Twilight and Princess Celestia had ever shown her a modicum of kindness, and in the latter’s case Sunset hadn’t been in a position to appreciate it. Sunset needed Twilight now, and there was no way she would be so selfish as to turn away just because the affection made her uncomfortable.

“Are you lost in thought?” Sunset asked, sounding amused. Twilight often forgot just how well they had gotten to know each other in such a short time.

Twilight tore her gaze away from a patch of particularly interesting clouds, instead looking around the car. Tan plaster and floral designs constituted most of the car, along with the most fantastically uncomfortable and useless dividers between the worst booths she ever had the misfortune to sit in. At length, she responded, “Yes, sorry. I know we were in the middle of a conversation, that was rude of me.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me for anything, you understand that, right?” Sunset responded, rubbing her nuzzle against Twilight’s withers. “Besides, I was done speaking anyway.”

Twilight stood abruptly, startling Sunset, as Twilight had been supporting much of her body weight for the past several hours. The mare fell into the seat in a tumble of vermillion mane. “Sorry!” Twilight apologized once more, “I just want to go to the caboose – I, uh, need to stretch my wings, they’ve gotten sore on the ride,” Twilight lied. She winced, knowing all too well what Applejack would say were she here. She saw, or maybe imagined, an almost imperceptible narrowing of Sunset’s eyes. Sunset was not a stupid mare, and it was fairly likely that she had seen through her flimsy excuse for leaving. It was possible, but either way she chose not to call Twilight out.

“I’ll see you in a bit, then – remember what I said about apologies!” Sunset called after her as she padded towards the rear of the train. The train was almost empty; Celestia paid for the rail line to do normal service to the Crystal Empire. It was the only reason there was a train at all, as there wasn’t anywhere near enough use of the line to justify its existence otherwise. Aside from a trio of guards that Shining Armor had insisted on, Sunset and Twilight had been alone.

As Twilight stepped out into the open air at the end of the train, there was only one question on her mind.

What am I going to do?

By the time they reached the Ponyville station, night had already fallen. The moon hung low in the sky. The stars glinted, cold and distant. Owls hooted a serenade to an audience of glowing eyes at the Everfree’s fringe. It was another cold night, but it was good to be back home.

Ponyville was empty and silent. Light spilled from windows here and there, but it was the hour of the wolf, and most ponies were well and truly asleep. None of their friends were present to greet the couple; Twilight had told them to expect her tomorrow afternoon. She needed to talk to them, to get help understanding how she felt. She just couldn’t, not tonight. She needed some sleep to organize her thoughts. Besides, sane ponies were asleep at this hour.

As a sharp counterpoint to Twilight’s brooding, Sunset seemed like she was attempting to take in everything there was to see at once. A gentle emerald light lit their way, bobbing along at horn-level as she took in the sights. Twilight had forgotten, for all the time they’d spent together, that Sunset had never been to Ponyville before. Her saddlebags were of golden silk – a parting gift from Cadance and Shining Armor – and held all of her meager worldly possessions. She hummed a now-familiar tune as they trotted towards the center of the town, smiling all the way.

“What is that song? You seem fond of it,” Twilight asked. While she was genuinely interested, she spoke primarily because the silence had stretched uncomfortably long.

Sunset stopped humming immediately, a slight blush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “If it’s annoying you, I’ll stop,” she replied, concerned.

“No, I really didn’t mean that! If there was a problem I would have said something. It just sounded nice and I was curious,” Twilight said, noting ruefully that there was a problem that Sunset could help her with that Twilight still hadn’t asked her about.

“I do forget sometimes that not every question is supposed to have a double meaning. I had just gotten so used to the constant questions about me and my, er, tantrum, that every time anypony asks me anything, it just seems like a challenge,” she explained, paused for just long enough to get a strange, contemplative look in her eye, then continued. “But anyway, it’s just a silly song I learned from some fillies at the – oh, wow, look at that.”

They had reached the center of Ponyville. The Golden Oaks Library stood before them, all dark save a single candle in Twilight’s bedroom window.

“I guess, when you described your home as a tree house, I imagined it as a little shack balanced on the branch of an oak tree – you know, like a foal would have in a backyard. Not this – this is beautiful,” Sunset said, looking up at her new home with awe evident in her eyes.

Twilight smiled for the first time in hours. “It’s definitely not that kind of treehouse, I assure you. For one thing, neither rain nor rodents will be a concern during your stay. I suspect Spike has been up all night waiting for us, even though I told him we’d be late, so we should get inside and let him get some rest.”

Sunset frowned as they started towards the front door. “Hold on – I thought you said that you didn’t tell anypony you’d be coming back tonight? How could Spike be expecting us?”

“Celestia could send me letters wherever I was without dragonfire, so after my coronation, I asked her to teach me her spell. I sent him mail to let him know we’d be back earlier than expected. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to sound like I was bragging.”

Sunset whistled in appreciation. “That’s impressive. I won’t make a big deal about it, since you don’t seem interested in talking about it,” she said as Twilight pushed open the library door. “You’re very humble. It’s one of your most admirable qualities, and one I’m still working on emulating.”

The room was completely dark, save the shining of Sunset’s verdigris magelight. The shelves that they could see were in perfect array, though several stacks of tomes were lying, neatly arranged, in the center of the room. One such heap was moving, seemingly under its own power, towards a wall. The movement stopped suddenly, the pile of books lowered itself to the ground, and a small figure hurried across the floor with the sound of claws over wood.

“Twilight! Welcome back. And, hey, Sunset, it’s been a while. You look a bit, heh, shorter than the last time I saw you.”

Sunset chuckled. “Very funny, Spike. How have you been?” Her eyes darted around the room, savoring the sight of shelves stuffed with books. It was so easy for Twilight to forget that Sunset Shimmer was the only pony who was anywhere near as nerdy as she was herself. Their only difference was that Sunset did a better job of hiding it.

“Oh, great, thanks for asking,” Spike said, pausing briefly before he addressed Twilight. He had deep bags under his eyes. “Twilight, I got out that extra bed Applejack and Rarity used that one time, I figured you might want it.”

She hadn’t even thought of that. “Thanks, Spike. You didn’t tell the girls about my letter, did you?” When Spike shook his head, Twilight continued, “Go get some rest, dawn isn’t too far off.” Spike obliged, stumbling through the shadowy room on his way to bed, but Twilight wasn’t quite ready to follow him.

“Tea?” Twilight suggested to the other mare as she moved into the kitchen. “Spike snores until he’s well and truly asleep. If we go up after he stops, he won’t wake us up with snoring, and we won’t wake him up with talking. Everypony wins.”

“Tea does sound good,” Sunset admitted. “I never used to be fond of it, but after... well, after my episode I’ve been finding myself enjoying it here and there. Do you have ginseng?”

Twilight nodded as they entered the kitchen, pulling tea bags and mugs out of a cupboard and lifting the tea kettle off the fireplace crane. Sunset fired green sparks at a pair of candle sconces, eliciting a nervous look from Twilight. These candles burned far more brightly than they had any logical right to, allowing Sunset to dispel her magelight while the room remained reasonably lit. It was a small room, and cozy; no larger than it had to be. Shelves and cabinets were kept in perfect order, even though Twilight had been away for days. She’d have to thank Spike for that later. Twilight indicated the tiny table in the corner to Sunset, who dragged her hooves walking to it. Fatigue was evident in her eyes, and Twilight wondered if perhaps they should have just gone to bed, never mind Spike’s snoring.

After Twilight filled the kettle with water, Sunset motioned from her seat towards it with a golden hoof. “Give that here, let me at least be of some use,” she requested as she ensnared the kettle in a glow of emerald light.

Twilight saw no reason to object, so all she said was, “Remember, whatever you do, this is a wood house.” Sunset Shimmer did not deign to respond. Instead, she channeled more magic into her horn, nearly heating the metal to incandescence. It began whistling in a matter of seconds, and Sunset immediately stopped. “Don’t touch that,” she advised.

“Wasn’t planning to,” Twilight murmured, impressed. “You know, you aren’t too shabby yourself, when it comes to magic,” Twilight spoke as she poured the boiling water into two mugs along with the tea. She could feel the heat of the metal through the air.

“Not really,” Sunset muttered. “I’m not as good as I’d hoped, whatever the case may be. I think I might just be out of practice; I used to be far better with magic, especially fire and heat-related things.”

And you think you aren’t modest, Twilight reflected. She procured a sugar bowl with telekinesis as spooned some of the fine powder into her mug. She stirred the water absentmindedly as the tea steeped, looking out the room’s window to the town beyond. The gloom of night was so thick she could barely make out the houses closest to hers, but she knew the sun would be rising soon. Sunset was warming her hooves on the mug she had been given, looking content. It was exceedingly pleasant to sit there in silence with Sunset Shimmer. With all the shock of the past few days, Twilight had nearly forgotten that she enjoyed the other mare’s company, just sitting together as friends.

After a few minutes had passed, the silence was broken.

“Twilight?”

“Hm?”

“Do you ever feel like...” she began, then trailed off. She fidgeted with her mug, restless – clearly something was eating at her. She took a long sip of the tea, as if trying to put off what she needed to say as long as possible. All the while, she avoided Twilight’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to put this into words. I guess what I’m trying to say is, do you ever have trouble, uh, ‘getting’, ponies?” Not knowing how to react, Twilight remained silent. When she failed to respond, Sunset went on.

“Well, I do. I mean, I always used to. When I was a filly, ponies, usually Celestia, kept telling me that I was doing things that might hurt other ponies’ feelings, but I couldn’t understand what she meant. It was almost as if they were always just things, not ponies like me – with feelings, I mean. They all had a unique name and behaved in a unique way, but that wasn’t enough to make them... real, I suppose, to me. I thought nothing of it if I did something malicious and somepony else was hurt or took the blame.”

She paused for a second to take another draught of tea, then continued. She had finally gathered the courage to look Twilight in the eye. “And then you came along. When I was hit by the Elements of Harmony, it... it hurt; it hurt more than anything I’d ever felt in my life. I replayed everything I’d ever done to wrong somepony else in my mind all at once, and for the first time I understood the suffering I brought into other ponies’ lives. I don’t even think I was capable of guilt before then, it’s all so hazy now – but what I felt then, the grief, the regret; that was real, I’m sure of it.

“As soon as I realized that other ponies had feelings just like me, I knew that they would hate me as much as I hated myself. I wanted to take it all back, but that was impossible. Anything I might have done to right my wrongs would be too little, too late. And then you lifted me out of the crater. You showed me something beautiful and alien – compassion,” she sighed. Her gaze was growing ever more intense, but Twilight did not turn away. “And I think you saved my life. Don’t say ‘it was nothing’, because it really wasn’t.” Twilight had, in fact, been just about to say exactly that. “And ever since then I’ve been trying to live up to your example, but it’s still hard for me to understand how ponies feel sometimes. So, please, could you please just tell me what I’m doing wrong? Because I honestly don’t know what I’m supposed to do!”

Oh. Now it was Twilight’s turn to look uncomfortable. Sunset’s voice rose in pitch, suddenly frantic.

“I am doing something wrong, aren’t I? You always seem so uncomfortable when we’ve been together, like you’re ashamed of having me with you!” All at once, she looked terrified, hooves trembling, as she hung her head cradled in her hooves over the table. “Did I hurt you somehow? Do you want me to go back? Across the mirror? I’ll do it if – !”

“No!” Twilight yelped, appalled. “No, I don’t.” Sunset seemed like she was fighting back tears. Crying did not greatly improve her visage – Twilight realized long ago how much showing weakness hurt Sunset Shimmer. She had to fix this – now. She didn’t feel like anypony needed to hurt because of her.

“But – !”

“Just hold on a minute and let me speak my piece, alright? You’ve said yours already, so it’s fair. Can you promise that you won’t talk about running away until you’ve heard what I have to say?” Sunset gave her hesitant assent, and Twilight took a deep breath, choosing her next words with care.

“I’m just as scared as you. I’m just as new to this as you. I wanted to take this slowly, but I was afraid that if I told you I needed space you’d think I was trying to get rid of you. That’s why I stayed quiet – apparently that didn’t work out, since this happened anyway, and that’s entirely my fault. But the reason I’ve been a little distant isn’t because I don’t like you, because that’s not true. I’m just confused. I think we both are, really. It’s a lot to take in at once. I’ve had crushes before, of course, but the way I feel now isn’t just that. Problem is, I don’t know what it is yet.” She smiled what she hoped was an encouraging smile, trying to disarm the situation. “Like I said. I don’t know what it is. All I know is, it’s a feeling so powerful that it managed to overcome my fear of the unknown.

“And I really do care about you, I’ve just scared of such a huge change. Did I ever tell you, I used to plan out my month to the hour, even prescribing a few hour’s worth of time to write a plan for the next month?” Sunset let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and Twilight stood to embrace her. “Just give me a bit of time to sort it all out, okay?”

Sunset fidgeted for a moment, sniffing. Twilight could feel her heartbeat slowing before they pulled apart and knew that she was calm. “I... suppose that’s fair. I feel a little silly for worrying so much now, really.”

"I’ve been worse. One time, I thought I was going to miss a deadline on a Friendship Report. The whole town suffered. It happens.”

Sunset giggled. The room went quiet once more. Now, however, there was no tense atmosphere that spoke of confessions to be made. After being in a state of quiet panic for more than a day, it was immensely cathartic to Twilight. A quick glance at Sunset’s face, serene and beautiful, confirmed that the other mare felt exactly the same.

Finally, it dawned on her that it was not just quiet, but completely silent. As such, there could not be a snoring dragon upstairs. Ergo, Spike was deep enough in sleep that they could go upstairs with no risk of waking him, even if they were speaking. Loathe as she was to break up such a lovely moment, they really needed to get to sleep before dawn.

“I think we should get some rest, it isn’t going to be long before the sun is up again,” she mumbled, standing. Sunset followed her lead. Leaving their mugs behind, they began to trot upstairs. Sunset no longer leaned on Twilight as they walked. Twilight was mildly surprised to find that she missed supporting her lithe frame.

“Thanks, Twilight,” Sunset muttered.

“For what?” Twilight asked, absentminded, as she pushed open the door to her room. Spike lay on his little bed in a tranquil sleep. An extra bed had been brought out, and the room looked exactly as it had years ago when Applejack and Rarity had spent a stormy night at the library. Moonlight spilled across Twilight’s bed, throwing long shadows across the rest of the room.

Sunset dropped her saddlebags at the foot of her bedstead, looking exasperated at the question. “What do you mean – ugh. Thanks for letting me be vulnerable around you, I suppose. I don’t know how to articulate – whoa!” Just before Sunset could get into her cot, Twilight yanked her into the air in a little burst of purple light. The two of them fell tangled together into Twilight’s bed.

"I’m getting awfully mixed signals here,” Sunset mumbled into the blanket. “Take it slow, or cuddles. Make up your mind.”

“I still have no idea what’s going on, but I’m tired and confused and forgive me,” Twilight replied with a little smile, her own voice muffled by Sunset’s mane. Suddenly all that fear of the unknown didn’t seem to matter quite as much. She shuffled her feathers to a more comfortable position, making herself as comfortable as possible. In fact, her action had shocked herself just as much as it probably shocked Sunset. “It’s cold out, and you had a rough moment a few minutes ago. I felt like I should thank thank you for being there for me, even though I didn’t look like I appreciated it. I hope you don’t mind, I don’t think either of us wants to be cold tonight.”

“Hmm... I’m not saying that...”

Sunset trailed off. She did not snore, thank Celestia, but her chest began to rise and fall more slowly. She relaxed, releasing tension that was so constantly present while she was awake that it had become her natural self. When she slept, she lowered the barriers she had attempted to erect around herself all her life, keeping all sympathetic contact at a safe distance. Twilight was proud to do her part tearing down those walls in the waking world.

Twilight hugged her companion close. Her mane smelled like winter flowers. Outside, the moon continued its slow fall to earth. Twilight counted stars until she could feel herself drifting into dreams.