Sunset took a deep breath. Around her, the Canterlot gardens were unusually silent. Somehow she'd remembered them being more noisy, the leaves echoing with the sounds of exotic birdsong. Then, she saw a glint of armor disappearing into the bushes, and her mouth twisted into a frown as she realized just why the animals had taken flight.
“My sister insisted,” Celestia whispered, not glancing towards Sunset as she gave the wryest of smiles. “She's slow to trust these days.”
“Can't say I blame her.” Sunset shook her head and sighed. “I knew coming back was going to be… difficult.”
“I'm glad you did.” Celestia smiled in earnest, and Sunset found a grateful blush rising to her cheeks. “I've missed you.”
Sunset blinked away tears. “I missed you too.”
There was silence for a moment between them.
“So how has life been beyond the mirror?” Celestia finally asked, feigning interest in the surrounding foliage.
“It's been good,” Sunset answered quickly. “I feel like I'm really making headway on the arcanodynamic differences between both worlds. Admittedly, working with magic on the far side can be dangerous, but that's all the more reason I have to study it. Clearly portals between our worlds are disturbingly easy to open, and we need to be prepared if we're going to avoid any more… incidents.”
“Yes, I heard it was quite the show over Ponyville.” Celestia indulged in a giggle as Sunset flushed with embarrassment. “Think nothing of it. You should have seen the aftermath of Twilight's battle with Tirek. The cartographers guild was livid.”
“Oh, yeah, I heard that was quite a fight.” Sunset's expression fell slightly, growing distant. “She's really one heck of a pony, isn't she?”
“I do try to pick the best for my students.” Celestia stepped a little closer to Sunset, sweeping a wing over her.
Sunset nearly skittered away, her eyes averted. “Well, I guess nopony's perfect.”
She could feel the gentle frown on Celestia's face. “Sunset...”
“Please, I didn't come back for forgiveness.” Sunset said, her eyes still downcast. “I've turned my life around, but the past can't be undone. I know that. It's enough to get to come back, to have a horn again, to walk through the gardens again.”
Celestia snorted. “You sound like my sister.”
“Excuse me?” Sunset blinked.
Celestia rolled her eyes playfully, her wing darting out quickly this time to catch Sunset and tug her to her side. “You sound like Luna. For a good year after she came back, all she could talk about was 'sorry this' and 'forgive us' that. Not to speak ill of her, but it became exceedingly annoying.”
Sunset gaped at her mentor, not even trying to escape. “But, didn't she try to--”
“Plunge Equestria into eternal darkness and trap me on the moon for all eternity?” Celestia rolled her eyes once more. “Honestly, with what I've had to put up with in this past year, I'd consider that a misdemeanor at best.”
“But--” Celestia cut Sunset off by booping her on the nose with a hoof.
“No buts. What you did was… understandable in light of the circumstances. As was what Luna did.” Celestia paused. “Did Twilight ever tell you about her little adventure with Starlight Glimmer?”
“Only that she traveled to alternate Equestrias,” Sunset said, frowning in puzzlement. “Our discussion was somewhat overshadowed by her meeting her counterpart.”
“Yes, I imagine it would be,” Celestia giggled. “Regardless, one of the futures she saw was one where Nightmare Moon had bested me. And do you know what she found?” When Sunset shook her head, she continued. “She found ponies. Grumpy ponies, to be sure, but ponies alive and well. Employed ponies living in a well kept, if gloomy, castle. It was never Luna's, or by extension Nightmare's, desire to destroy Equestria, or even truly inflict harm. She simply wanted her due recognition, and it was due, make no mistake. Few mares can run a nation, much less when slaved to a physical manifestation of their own bitter jealousies, and yet Twilight traveled to an Equestira very much alive, and at least by some metrics well. Luna, and by extension Nightmare, were never monsters, despite what she thinks.”
“No, I suppose not.” Sunset shook her head, sighing. “Is this some elaborate metaphor for my own… incident?”
Celestia smirked, and squeezed Sunset a little closer. “Still quick as ever, I see. So much of ruling is perspective, the ability to see why others do what they do. Neither you nor Luna lashed out from true malice for the world, or even indifference to others. You both lashed out because you felt the world was not giving you your due.” Celestia's smile died, and her eyes grew distant. “And in both cases I'd say you were correct.”
Sunset reached over and wrapped her hoof around Celestia's. “It wasn't your fault.”
“Not entirely no, but certainly the majority of it lies with me.” She held up a hoof as Sunset began to protest. “Before you argue, consider who else we might blame. Was Luna to blame that neither her sister nor her subjects would make time for her? Were you to blame that your mentor held you back?”
“You were only trying to--” Sunset began.
“Protect you, yes, you see that now. But I, like so many adults, didn't understand how you couldn't see that before,” she sighed. “For all that we like to talk about how much more we know than foals, we so often forget that fact when it comes to actually explaining ourselves. In time, we wind up relying on our authority alone, undermining it until it holds no meaning. And then those foals rebel.”
Sunset was silent, and Celestia offered her a sad smile.
“Who is to blame for such a thing but the mare called princess?” Celestia shook her head slowly. “If those dark days were anypony's fault, they were mine.”
Sunset merely hugged her hoof tighter.
“Thank you,” Celestia whispered.
Silence settled around them again, not even the wind daring to disturb the trees. As they walked, distant voices became audible. Before long, the palace walls loomed from amidst the trees. Casting a quizzical look at Celestia, and getting only a mysterious smile in return, Sunset followed her as she started up the wall's stairs.
“What do you think of Twilight?” Celestia asked, making Sunset jump.
After taking a second to regain her composure, she offered a warm smile. “She's really an amazing mare. Intelligent, compassionate, determined. You couldn't have picked a better replacement.” The last words came out tinged with a touch of sadness.
“I disagree,” Celestia said, and Sunset's eyes went wide.
“But, I mean--” She found herself silenced by another playful boop.
“How do you feel about a lesson, for old time's sake?” She patted a spot beside herself on the parapets, and after a moment Sunset joined her. From the top of the wall, all of Canterlot was visible, especially the guard training grounds below. Training grounds that were currently playing host to a game of hoofball amongst the elements of harmony. “Tell me, Sunset, what do you see?”
“I see Canterlot,” Sunset sighed. “I see Twilight playing with her friends.” It seemed to have devolved into a game of two on four as Applejack and Rainbow lived up to their reputations. The sight made Sunset smile, bittersweet though it might have been. “She's not half bad,” Sunset lied.
Celestia's eyes glittered. “Yes, half bad is not the phrase I would use either. She is a mare of many talents, though not all of them.” There was a yelp from down below as a certain alicorn in question took a hoofball to the face. “Still, you seem to think she'd make a worthy successor. Why?”
“Why not?” Sunset snorted. “I've never met a mare with more integrity or talent. She… honestly? She reminds me of you.”
“Interesting,” Celestia nodded, but her smile had gone. “She reminds me of me too.”
“Princess?” Sunset asked.
“Perspective is a funny thing,” Celestia continued after a moment. “So much of our world is defined by what we see, rather than what's really there. Tell me, Sunset, when you look at Twilight, what do you see?”
“I see...” Sunset thought about that, casting the occasional look at Celestia between watching Twilight and her friends below. They were doing better since they'd moved Pinkie to goalie, to the point that Rainbow and Applejack had clearly begun to complain. That sadness that had lingered beneath rose to the surface. “I see the mare that's everything I should have been.”
“Oh, so you should be purple then?” Celestia smirked, giving Sunset's mane a ruffle. “Or perhaps you just need a more utilitarian manecut? Do you suppose the salons are still open?”
“What?” Sunset recoiled, quickly smoothing out her mane and trying to control her horror. “No! I mean, not that her mane is… it's just...” Sunset coughed. “It… works for her?”
“That it does,” Celestia agreed, giggling more. “But I think yours suits you much better. Still, I suppose that means she's not entirely the mare you ought to be.”
“You know what I meant.” Sunset grumbled.
“But do you know what I meant?” Celestia's tone dropped, becoming serious. "Do you really think Twilight is the mare I wished you were?”
Sunset averted her gaze, staring down into the field below. The argument had ended, and now the laughter could be heard all the way up on the wall. “Yes,” she said.
“Then you're wrong!” Celestia said with a chipper smile. “But everypony is sometimes. Don't take it personally.”
“I am?” Sunset blinked, then frowned. “Don't just try to make me feel better. I'm a big mare, I can take being second fiddle.”
“Why do you think you're a fiddle in the first place? You always struck me as more of a guitar mare.” Celestia rubbed her chin, then giggled. “Then again, I might have been keeping up on your adventures since you reformed.”
Sunset's frown deepened, and she huffed. “Why's it always games with you?”
All of Celestia's cheer died in the blink of an eye. “Why is it always games with me?” The question didn't even seem directed at Sunset. “It just, feels right, I suppose. They keep you sharp. To play games, you always have to be one step ahead of your partner, sometimes two or three. In that way, ruling is the biggest game of all.”
“Celestia?” Sunset asked, her voice growing quiet.
“You said she reminds you of me.” Celestia's eyes moved to follow Twilight as she began to organize another game of hoofball. “From some perspectives, that might be an insult.” A hint of her smile returned, but it was twisted and bitter. “Did Twilight ever tell you about the Smarty Pants incident?”
“No,” Sunset slowly shook her head.
“It was barely a year ago,” Celestia began. “Twilight was still my student, nominally studying abroad in Ponyville, reporting on friendship problems she'd solved every week. Most weeks she had a ready supply, but one week, nothing happened. No fights, no adventures. Of course, Twilight thought nothing of it until the week rolled to a close and she hadn't written a report. Do you know what she did?”
Sunset thought about the mare she'd met and grown to know. “She reacted badly, didn't she?”
“Oh, very,” Celestia nodded. “She decided that if she hadn't solved a friendship problem that week, then she needed to do so. But to solve a problem, she first had to have one.”
“Oh mare,” Sunset shook her head.
“Indeed. She started innocently enough, just digging for a fresh problem she'd missed. But after a few hours, she realized she wasn't going to find one in time.” Celestia paused. “So she decided she'd make one.”
“Seriously?” Sunset asked. “That sounds… like an extraordinarily bad idea.”
“Oh, it was. But at the same time, it does make a brutal sort of sense, doesn't it? If you don't have a problem, make one, then solve that,” Celestia said. “It was elegant, if not particularly sane. Except she couldn't solve the problem she created. She stuck a want-it-need-it spell on her Smarty Pants doll, got the whole town fighting over it, then proceeded to be completely incapable of stopping the riot. I had to personally step in to defuse the situation.” Celestia frowned more deeply than Sunset had ever seen. “On that day, more than any other, I truly saw myself in her.”
“What do you mean?” Sunset looked up at Celestia with wide, quiet eyes.
“We are all flawed, Sunset, myself included. Myself especially,” she sighed. “When I look back at Luna, at you, do you know what I see?” She turned to Sunset. “I see instances where a stodgy old mare couldn't change her mind. I had a plan, and I stuck to it past all reason. If Luna had born our subjects' neglect before, then she would again. If my filly of a student had followed my lesson plans before, then she would again. It's said among lawyers, 'never ask a question you don't already know the answer to.' For me, that adage has been my life. Even today, this conversation right now, was planned out weeks in advance. Every move charted and mapped out to perfection. And you know what I would have done if Rainbow had sprained a wing this morning, and Twilight and her friends weren't playing down below?”
“No?” Sunset answered.
“That's unfortunate, because neither do I,” Celestia let out a soft chuckle, bleak as could be. “For all that I've ruled this nation for millennia, I've never been one to improvise well. My solution to my sister's sudden discontent was to ignore her until I had to banish her. My solution to an unruly student was to wait for her to grow up,” Celestia sighed. “I'm sure you heard about when Chrysalis beat me before a public audience, yes?”
“Tangentially?” Sunset hazarded.
Celestia nodded. “Do you know how she beat me?” When Sunset shook her head, she continued with another chuckle. “Stupidity. I'd expected her to worm her way deep into our ranks and entrench herself in Canterlot before realizing I'd lured her into a trap. Even when she was challenged by Twilight, I'd expected her to slink into labyrinthine plots and decoys, my own area of expertise. Instead, she decided she was going to monologue, and then duel a god that she'd apparently forgotten she was sharing a room with.” She burst out laughing. “It was so stupid I never saw it coming! All I could do was blunder along with some showboating of my own, and then I couldn't even beat her in a straight up fight! I half expected her to unzip herself and let Discord out, it was all so insane!” Her laughter trailed off, taking her mirth with it. “And yet it almost cost me everything. To think, if I'd just adapted for Twilight's discovery, acted on her suspicions instead of trying to preserve my endgame, how much safer would it have been?”
Sunset carefully edged closer, and nuzzled Celestia's side, receiving a gentle wing-hug for her trouble.
“I'm sorry, Sunset, age comes with a terrible inclination towards the maudlin.” Celestia briefly shook herself, taking the chance to settle her wings on her back. She smiled softly as she looked down at Sunset. “Still, do you see my point?”
Sunset thought for a minute. “You're saying Twilight's not perfect.”
“Quick as always.” She gave Sunset a gentle nuzzle as she sighed. “It's a shame how often ponies just see the wings and horn, and not the pony beneath them.”
“Sorry.” Sunset blushed, kicking a hoof against the ground. “She… kind of turned my life around, and I guess I started to idolize her.”
“Oh, Sunset, no.” Celestia blinked and shook her head. “I didn't mean that to refer to you, but I am glad you have a bit more perspective now.” Celestia turned her head to the field below, but instead of looking at the friends playing together, she glanced at the lone figure sitting on the sidelines. “Really, I think Spike suffers the most for it.”
“Spike?” Sunset followed Celestia's gaze, spotting the young dragon. It took her second, but comprehension quickly dawned in her eyes. “Oh, yeah...”
“Indeed.” Celestia smiled warmly as Spike stood up and ran a bottle of water over to Twilight. “So many ponies see princess Twilight, and look right past the assistant who got her there. Did you know that he was the one who contacted me when Twilight decided to produce her friendship problem?”
“No, I didn't,” Sunset said.
“She wouldn't be here today if not for him,” Celestia said, smiling proudly, before glancing at Sunset. “Something that does not hold true for you.”
“Excuse me?” Sunset blinked.
“If it weren't for Spike,” Celestia continued. “I daresay Twilight would never have graduated, certainly not with her sanity. Have you ever heard her stories about magic kindergarden? Poor mare still has nightmares about it.”
“Nightmares? About magic kindergarden?” Sunset's face screwed up in confusion. “Is she afraid of naps?”
“Quesadillas actually, but that's another surprisingly related story.” Celestia sighed, her smile becoming bittersweet. “No, she spent most of her early academic career working herself into a state of perpetual panic. It was so bad that she frequently worked herself into magic paralysis. If it hadn't been for that fateful tryout for my school, she might well have grown up diagnosed with weak magic syndrome. Even after that, she might have choked out of the daily curriculum without Spike to even her out. Not that you'd know anything about that.”
“Huh?” Sunset cocked her head, frowning. “Uh, sorry?”
Celestia grinned. “That wasn't a jab. I mean it seriously. You never had a problem with obstacles. To you, magic kindergarden was easy. You passed my school's entrance exam with borderline flair. I even remember the judges notes on how you struck a pose at the end.” She giggled as Sunset blushed. “That's an amazing thing to have. You never drown, Sunset, never shut down or freeze up. Nothing stops you. Honestly, from what I heard from Twilight, right up until the element of magic rejected you, you were winning.”
“What?” Sunset's eyes went wide. “How can you say that?”
Celestia just laughed. “It's nothing to be ashamed of. Your motivations were wrong, certainly, but that doesn't mar the execution itself.”
“But… Twilight won the crown,” Sunset said, frowning again. “She did beat me.”
“And what did you do?” Celestia bumped her on the shoulder encouragingly. “You kept going! You just made a new plan on the spot and carried it out. You adapted. The very thing Twilight, and I, struggle to do.” She leaned in closer, and looked Sunset in the eye. “So trust me, when I say that Twilight could never replace you.”
Sunset merely stared back, until tears began to brim in her eyes. Squeezing them shut, she leaped up and hugged Celestia tightly around the neck. She said nothing, even as Celestia's wings wrapped around her, and held her close. She merely nuzzled in tighter.
“You're welcome.” Celestia whispered, nuzzling right back.
