Peace in Equestria, goodwill to ponies
There were dozens of balconies and terraces on Canterlot Castle, which allowed for a certain degree of seclusion. Even if there were hundreds of ponies inside the castle, it wasn't difficult for anypony to find a secluded spot outdoors and look at the stars. When the temperature dipped below freezing, and the stars were masked by falling snow, solitude was virtually a certainty.
Princess Cadance was thankful for that.
She couldn't exactly remember how long she had been watching the snow fall. Ten minutes would have been a reasonable guess, or fifteen; probably not more than twenty, or less than five. Does it even matter?, she thought, flicking her mane in irritation.
It would, of course. Somepony would find her, and she'd be dragged back into Princess Celestia's gargantuan Hearth's Warming party, and she'd have to continue to mingle with dozens of ponies she barely knew, and hundreds more she didn't know at all.
“Princess Cadance?”
Right on cue. Stifling a frown, Princess Cadance turned around. “Good evening, Rarity.”
Rarity tugged at an anorak scarf, head slightly tilted, clearly puzzled. “Apologies for disturbing you, Princess, but, ah...Shining Armor is in the dining hall, and he's been asking where you are.”
“Oh?”
“He's been rather insistent about it. Very...very vocal.”
“Drunk.”
Rarity's ears drooped. “Most likely, yes.”
“I'm not surprised. Between the Hearth's Warming gala and my, um... “health and well-being”, he has every right to celebrate. You don't have to listen to him if you don't want to.”
“Right! Of course!”
Silence fell.
Rarity coughed.
Princess Cadance shook her head. “But you'ld prefer it if I came back inside. Right?”
“Everypony else would, darling! We've all missed your company, and I'm sure-”
“How long did it take you to find me?”
“Me? Ten minutes, I suppose. Maybe less.”
“And the princesses didn't send anypony else?”
“Well, ah. They didn't exactly send me, either. Not that they don't care, of course! It's just that...perhaps they were so embarrassed that they forgot! Or maybe they didn't want to make a scene, and they thought that leaving the party to find you would cause a bit of a stir. Maybe some other...thing, came up. Or...some reason.”
“I see.”
Princess Cadance turned back towards the starless sky and the falling snow. “Perhaps I'll come down in a bit, Rarity. If you could give me a couple of minutes to-”
“I'm sorry, Princess Cadance.”
Cadance turned back, startled. “What? Why?”
Rarity trotted closer. “Well, I've clearly upset you, darling. I only thought that you'd enjoy yourself by spending time with the rest of Princess Celestia's guests, but I've obviously underestimated your desire for privacy.”
Cadance shook her head. “There's no need to apologize, Rarity. I'm the one who should apologize, really. Acting antisocial on today, of all days, it's...”
Silence.
Rarity pulled off her anorak scarf and held it out to Cadance. “Take this, dear. If you're going to stay out here in the cold, then it's the least that I can give you.”
“It's fine!” Princess Cadance chuckled. “If I needed a scarf, I would have brought one with me.”
“Don't you get cold?”
“In a fashion, but...not to the extent of most other ponies. Not anymore.”
“Is it...” Rarity faltered. “If you don't mind me asking, is that part of being an alicorn?”
Cadance nodded. “It is.”
“Which is a good thing, yes?”
Cadance sighed. “I suppose.”
“...is that not a good thing? Is the cold something I shouldn't take for granted?”
“Nothing like that.” Cadance shook her head. “Physically, this is wonderful. It's lovely to sit out here and watch the snow until I've lost track of the time, and never feel more than slightly chilly because of it. I rather like being an alicorn, but I suppose that's not an unconventional thought, is it?”
Rarity chuckled. “No, I'd have to agree that it isn't. Still...”
“Yes?”
“If being an alicorn is wonderful, then how does being a princess feel?”
Cadance turned away to stare at an indeterminate patch of snow, and chewed her lip for a couple of seconds.
“You knew why I was up here, didn't you?”
“I wouldn't exactly say I knew, darling. I can't know firsthoof what you've been experiencing in your life, and I can't know what you're thinking.” Rarity pulled the scarf around her neck and began layering it into place. “But you're an alicorn, and you're a princess. If something's troubling you and nopony else, then it's not unreasonable to assume that it's the sort of problem only you could really understand, yes? So I assumed that it was either an alicorn thing, or a princess thing. Or possibly both, of course.”
“It could have been something more mundane.”
“It could have! And then you might have corrected me. But it wouldn't have been very proactive of me to not guess at all, would it?”
A wan smile played around Cadance's lips. “I suppose that's fair. Still, you do realize you're asking me to complain about my life to you, right?”
“It'd be rather ungenerous of me if I didn't, dear. So – is this about the Crystal Empire? Has something happened to it?”
“Not at all, actually. Nothing's out of the ordinary, save for the usual excitement about Hearth's Warming Day. Everypony's celebrating with their families, meeting with their loved ones, that sort of thing. Happy.”
“Happy.”
“Completely, utterly and entirely.”
“You worry about them becoming unhappy, then?”
“Every day.”
“Every princess worries about that sort of thing, dear. Princess Celestia-”
“I know that Princess Celestia does. And Princess Luna, and Twil- I mean, Princess Twilight Sparkle. It's the sort of thing we should worry about, and I should take it for granted that worrying about it is a good thing, and I've tried to internalize it. I really have. I'm proud to do what I can for everypony.”
“But?”
“But it's easy to do that when it feels...not impersonal, but sort of...removed? I'm not sure I'm really articulating what I'm...trying to get across.” Cadance groaned. “You know what I'm trying to say, right?”
Rarity chuckled. “Of course, darling. Something changed, then?”
Cadance turned towards Rarity, opening her mouth as if to speak. Nothing came out. Cadance closed her mouth, swallowed, blinked, took a deep breath.
“I was.” Cadance faltered. “I was...wondering. What do you think would be a good name for it?”
“It?”
Cadance reached down and rested a hoof on her stomach. “Him. Her. We don't know the gender.”
“Oh!” Rarity's face softened. “I hadn't...I wouldn't know, Cadance. I'm sorry.”
“For not thinking about it? That's a silly thing to apologize for, Rarity.”
“Well...” Rarity blushed. “It's just, I...I don't think that sort of thing is in my realm of expertise, is all.”
“It isn't in mine, either. Not yet, anyway.” Cadance sighed. “I'm sure I'll figure out this sort of thing eventually.”
Silence fell once more. The wind shifted, and snow drifted between Rarity and Cadance, dotting the space between them in white.
Rarity cleared her throat, and tucked a strand of mane behind her ear. “Princess Cadance?”
“Yes?”
“Are you scared?”
“You just asked me if I worried.”
“I did. But this is different, isn't it?”
“It...yes. Yes, it's different.” Cadance rubbed her eyes. “And yes. I'm scared, Rarity.”
“Princess, I promise-”
“-everything will be fine. That's what everypony says. Everypony's completely convinced that we'll be wonderful parents, that the child will be healthy and loving and well-behaved and the pride and joy of the kingdom. They trust that I won't make any mistakes, and they-” Princess Cadance gestured wildly in the air. “They gather around their trees, and they swap their presents and eat their special dinners and sing carols and hug each other like they've never stopped loving anypony else for even a second. And if I only worried about them being happy and safe, then I'd have nothing to worry about, right? But they...they think that every Hearth's Warming will be like this, they think the Crystal Empire will never want for anything, they think that my child will be perfect, that I'll be a perfect mother, that everything will be fine.”
“Dear, it's not-”
“What if he's born damaged? What if his legs don't work, or his head isn't quite right? What if I can't carry him to term at all? What if everything goes well, but he hates his parents, or he hates everypony else, or...or what if he's sad, what if he's sad and we can't help him, if nothing can help him, and what if he's so sad that he can't take it any more and...and...”
Cadance shuddered. Snow drifted onto her face and melted, snowflake by snowflake, and trailed down her cheeks like rain on a window.
“Rarity, what if everything won't be fine?”
Rarity watched, impassive, as Cadance coughed and drew in a phlegmy gulp of air. As Cadance wiped her face with one hoof, Rarity sat down on the snow-covered terrace, face briefly wincing from the cold.
“...Princess Cadance,” Rarity replied, cocking her head to one side. “Would you mind if...would it be okay if I asked you a leading question?”
“Leading? Sure.” Cadance sat down. “Go ahead.”
“The trees. The Hearth's Warming trees, I mean. Do they just...grow in everypony's houses?”
“No. Of course they don't.” Cadance sighed. “You're going to give me a speech about effort, aren't you.”
“Of course.” Rarity pressed on, undeterred. “The food doesn't spontaneously appear on everypony's plate. The songs don't write themselves. Princess, feelings don't magically appear.”
“Wait. That last one, I mean. I thought...” Cadance trailed off. “I thought that was the point. Of Hearth's Warming. The actual, historical-”
“The historical point that happened after almost everypony froze to death on some faith-forsaken patch of ice. They didn't want to cooperate with each other before that day, and I'm almost positive they didn't get along very well afterward. It's not as if you take all of these different ponies with different thoughts and ideals and histories and just...smoosh them together, and then everypony lives happily ever after.” Rarity made a squishing gesture with her hooves. “That isn't how life works.”
“...I guess I should have realized it was just a story.”
Rarity shook her head. “I don't think it's 'just' a story, dear. Even if there isn't a magical “happily ever after” to it, they still came together and tried to make everything perfect for each other. It'd be a lot of work to make things perfect every day that we're alive. More than we'd be able to bear, really.” Rarity smiled at Cadance. “But if we had just the one, then. Wouldn't that be something?”
“Isn't that a bit...” Cadance faltered. “Isn't that like lying to ourselves? To try and make everything out like it could be perfect, even if it isn't?”
“I wouldn't call it a lie, dear. I'd call it a dream. We work every single day at trying to live, trying to be happy, trying to keep ponies close to us happy, trying to make things better for us and everypony around us. That's life. I don't think we'll ever have to not work, honestly. But if we can do a little more every day – if we could go and get a tree and decorate and tend to it indoors, if we could prepare some extra food and set it aside, if we could agonize over which present to get who, and invite the sorts of relatives over that we normally can't stand...”
“You get Hearth's Warming?”
“Exactly.”
Silence. The wind subsided, but flakes of white continued to fall around them.
“Princess?”
“Yes?”
“Did I ever tell you about my favorite Hearth's Warming day?”
“I don't think you have, no.”
“It was a few years ago. Before I met Twilight Sparkle and that whole business with the Elements of Harmony happened, actually. Sweetie Belle was sent over to Carousel Boutique for the holidays, because my “dear, sweet parents” won tickets to a Trotugan cruise. Being perfectly responsible parents, they didn't bother to tell me anything. Can you imagine? Waking up one morning, hearing a knock on your door as you're applying eyeliner, and walking outside to find your baby sister and three suitcases of luggage sitting on your doorstep?” Rarity shook her head. “Sweetie Belle had to explain everything to me. My parents didn't even bother to say hello. Cowards.”
“What did you do?”
“Panicked. Panicked for two days straight. She had to be fed, of course, and I had to completely clean up the boutique so that she didn't mess up anything important. I had to send her out to play in the snow for hours just so I could have a bit of time to work on a rush order for a Hearth’s' Warming Eve ball gown to some unicorn's private soirée, and then of course she came down with a cold and I had to tend to that, and then I came down with her case of the sniffles and I had to work extra hard with a head completely full of mucus. And so on, and so forth. Granted, I'm sure it's not the sort of hassle that managing an entire kingdom must be, but hopefully you'll understand what it must have felt like.”
“Absolutely! Crisis after crisis, piling up with no end in sight...”
“Exactly. But, finally, it's ten in the evening on Hearth's Warming Eve. My hooves are sore from the jabbing of errant needles and the kitchen is a mess, but the dress has been made and delivered and Sweetie Belle's been put to bed, and I'm ready to turn in for the evening. So, of course, it hits me halfway through brushing my teeth that I haven't got a present for Sweetie Belle. Ugh.” Rarity moaned, rubbing her forehead. “I just realized I've been completely monopolizing the conversation. Feel free to interrupt me at any time, dear.”
“It's fine! You’re taking my mind off of things. I’m grateful.” Cadance cocked her head, looking puzzled. “How does this all end?”
“It ends when I stayed up until two in the morning and got woken up at five. I didn't have time to sew together something fantastic, but I'd like to believe the doll I stitched together for her was serviceable enough. Adequate. Passable.” Rarity shrugged. “In any case, she loved it. Here I was, doing my best to cobble together a breakfast and look passable in case somepony happened to show up, and she's tearing through the boutique like a lunatic in a madhouse, caroming off of walls and mannequins, lost in some utterly nonsensical adventure. For the record, dear, that part of child-raising probably isn't something to look forward to. Fair warning.”
Cadance chuckled.
“So. I've finally managed to properly shower at about...noon-ish, I think. I come downstairs, and Sweetie Belle's fallen asleep on top of a pile of paper and crayons, head lying on top of the doll. The crayons were going to make a beastly mess on her coat, and I'd have to make sure that the papers weren't ledgers or anything else important, and what I should have done was woken Sweetie Belle up right away and properly chastised her, but...but the scene.”
Rarity trailed off, staring wordlessly at Princess Cadance. Abruptly, Rarity shook her head and continued.
“I suppose I can't exactly articulate what it was about that moment, but it...fit. I was half a shade away from ragged, but she didn't have anything to worry about at all, and...and I just sort of completed life for her, at that moment. Nothing lasts forever, of course. Unfortunately.” Rarity chuckled. “She's even more of a hoof-full now than she used to be, but at the time it felt like success. After so much effort and trial, I had finally actually given somepony a happy ending. For a time, anyway.”
Princess Cadance sighed. “That's the problem, though. Nothing lasts forever. There's always something to worry about-”
“Of course there is. That's life. Life doesn't have true happy endings, not forever. But if we come together and work hard and understand why we're coming together and working hard, then we can have a happy ending for an entire day. And the memory of a happy ending? It's exactly as mortal as we are. And if we bring all of our happy endings together for that one day, then isn't it all the more magical?”
“You think that's what Hearth's Warming is all about?”
“I'm not sure that everypony would believe it if I told them. I'm not sure that you do, dear. But I certainly believe it, and I'd like to believe that almost everypony believes it, deep down. Between the decorating and the baking and the socializing and the sheer effort of it all, there has to be some reason beyond gratification for only one day of leisure. And when I talked about all that effort for one day, I believe that most ponies rationally accept it as a matter of the moment, and I just as strongly believe that they implicitly store the memory of the moment. There, in their minds, they make it last forever.”
“It sounds a bit...fantastical? I'm not sure that's what it means to most ponies, Rarity.”
“I've thought a lot about happy endings. Perhaps too much, really. I used to have quite the preoccupation with Prince Charmings and Knights in Shining Armor. I suppose you have the latter, literally speaking, but it's obviously not something everypony can have.”
“He's a blessing, then? I-I mean, of course he is. I'm not discontent with that at all. With him, I mean.” Cadance sputtered. “I'm happy with him! I don't want you to get the wrong idea. Honestly.”
“He doesn't worry, though. Does he?”
“...No. He's not scared, either.” Cadance rubbed her shoulder. “Sometimes, I think I'm the only pony who ever does that sort of thing. A-and I mean, it's obviously not true, but...”
Cadance sighed.
“...your idea about Hearth's Warming. It means that I can ensure the happiness of everypony, even if in the traditional sense I can't, doesn't it? It's a beautiful idea. I want to believe it. I really do.” Cadance bit her lip. “But I don't think I'm believing it now. I'm not sure I can make myself believe something like that.”
Rarity leaned over, gently resting a hoof against Cadance's foreleg. The alicorn's eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't pull her leg away.
“You can't make yourself not worry, Princess. You can't make yourself not be scared. I can't truly do either of those for you, either. All I can do is give you a reason. It isn't necessarily true, and it isn't necessarily false. You can believe in it if you want to, though. If it makes sense to you, if it makes you happier, then I encourage you to do so. But I'm afraid I can't give you anything more meaningful than this.”
Rarity and Cadance looked at each other. The falling snow muffled the faint snatches of music and laughter from the castle below, and the only thing left – if it was there at all – were the remnants of the moment between them.
Eventually, Rarity pulled her hoof away, and stood up.
“I suppose I should be getting back to the gala. I wouldn't want to needlessly worry anypony. If you'll excuse me-”
“Wait. Wait!” Princess Cadance bolted upright, dislodging the snow that had gathered on her feathers. “You don't have to. Go, I mean. If you don't want.”
Rarity paused.
“Actually, ah.” Cadance paused. “It's...I suppose you could stay here, if you like. I'm not sure I'd like to go back inside, but...I wouldn't mind the company. If you wanted to keep talking.”
Rarity blinked. Abruptly, her face bloomed into a smile, and she turned back to Cadance and sat down once more.
“Fair enough. I suppose I wouldn't mind a bit of time away from the crowds, either. But I do think that I've been talking for long enough. It's your turn.”
“Me? Well, ah – what do you want me to talk about?”
“Whatever comes to mind, dear.” Rarity tilted her head, glancing at Cadance's stomach. “Perhaps the little one? What do you think would be a good name?”
Cadance grinned. “I've thought about it. Shining wants to name it after one of his characters from those roleplaying games he used to play back in school, but I've figured something more regal was in order. Hopefully, we'll be able to compromise somehow.”
“Compromise?”
“I won't give it a “cutesy” name, and he won't add “the magnificent” or “the slayer” to the name. Doubtless, I'll have to sacrifice more perfectly meaningful ideas in order to keep him from selecting completely silly ones, but it's a start.”
Rarity giggled. “Stallions! You think they'd have an ounce of common sense. Still – as of now, did you have anything in mind?”
“Well...”
And Cadance talked, and Rarity talked, and as they spoke to each other they lost track of the time, and the snow continued to fall.
The party continued well into the night, undaunted by weather or time; and, somewhere above it, two ponies stayed lost in conversation, and what words they exchanged were swallowed by the blizzard: a few scant moments of speech, and nothing more.
But in the minds of Rarity and Cadance, the words were as mortal as they were.
In their minds, the moment lasted forever.
