The sound of Sunset Shimmer's own heavy breathing filled her ears; The Day Court of Equestria stared at her in silence.
Several guards gripped their weapons uneasily, their gaze shifting between the fiery unicorn mare, whose angry outburst still rang in their ears, and their alicorn princess, who had been the target of Sunset's verbal assault.
Princess Celestia sat motionless, her expression of polite annoyance subtle enough that other ponies might have missed it. She let the silence drag on, long enough for Sunset to admit to herself that this might have been a bad idea. Still, Sunset was angry, dammit, and she wasn't about to back down until the princess had given her some form of explanation.
When it became clear that Sunset was fully prepared to stare down her former mentor for as long as it would take, Princess Celestia stood, and made a sweeping motion with her wing.
“My dear little ponies, I am sorry, but it seems I will have to end this session early today. There is an important matter I must discuss with Miss Shimmer.”
And when the courtiers had left the room, Princess Celestia had gestured for even the royal guards to leave them, and Sunset found herself, for the first time in many years, alone with the most powerful pony in Equestria. Politically speaking, at least.
Sunset waited. Eventually, the princess spoke.
“You've been to the hospital, I take it?”
“Yes,” Sunset sneered. “She's doing fine, by the way. The doctors say she'll be out in a few days. But I was surprised to learn you hadn't been to visit your prized pupil, considering it was basically you who put her there.”
“Former pupil,” the princess corrected softly, with only a touch of sternness to her tone, to which Sunset narrowed her eyes, “and I'm afraid I've been busy with affairs of state. But rest assured, I have kept informed of her condition.”
Sunset snorted derisively, then frowned at how… horsey the sound had come out.
“As for my part in what happened,” the princess continued, “it was Twilight's decision, and she was fully aware of the risks.”
“Oh, please,” moaned Sunset, “that filly would jump into a volcano if you asked her to, and you know it.”
The princess frowned. “I think you may be giving her too little credit, Sunset.”
“Maybe,“ replied Sunset, “but I'm not the one sending her — or encouraging her to go — on dangerous missions. You could have gone yourself, or gone with her, but instead you sat just here, on your… throne, while Twilight risked her neck for you, again!
“You keep putting her in danger, and I'm not leaving until you explain why!” Sunset's hoof tapped against the marble floor.
Princess Celestia tilted her head, her expression a mixture of sadness and amusement. Sunset ground her teeth together, and continued to glare.
“You really do care for her a great deal, don't you?” asked the princess, softly.
Sunset flinched. “Y-yeah, well… Don't change the subject!”
Princess Celestia nodded, and turned to one side, apparently sinking into thought. “Yes…” she muttered, “you are entitled to an answer. Twilight, too, though she has never asked.” She turned her head back to Sunset, tilting it to one side. “You are really not like her at all.”
Sunset fumed. Though she couldn't say why, exactly, those words did not feel at all complimentary. If anything, it felt like an accusation.
Princess Celestia turned away again, headed towards one of the stain-glassed windows, where The Princess of Friendship was depicted in sparkling shards. The coloured sunlight tinted the princess's face, her bearing as royal and as haughty as ever Sunset could remember. “She reminds me of Starswirl, more than anypony I can recall meeting since him. He was intelligent, yet in many ways simple. Wise, and yet so innocent.”
Sunset ground her teeth and stared at the floor, waiting for her former mentor to get to some kind of point.
“But you, Sunset… you aren't like either of them.” Before Sunset would have burst out with some snide comment, Princess Celestia continued. “In so many ways you remind me far more of myself.”
Sunset blinked, and her head jerked up at this apparent praise. To hear Princess Celestia speak such words left her… stunned.
But Princess Celestia's expression was not the smile of a teacher praising her student. It looked as though she had been forced to swallow something horribly bitter. “I honestly think taking you on as my personal student may have been a mistake.”
Sunset was shaking, speechless at this apparent attack.
“Sunset… please tell me honestly, do you trust me?”
“Of course!” Sunset's answer was almost a reflex.
“Why?”
Sunset let out a short laugh. “Why!? You're Princess Celestia, The Good, The Wise. How could I not trust you?”
Princess Celestia shut her eyes, and turned away, sighing. “The Good,” she echoed, her voice a murmur, “The Wise.
“Never 'The Good and Wise'. It's an archaic construct, from another age.”
Silence fell between them, only distance sounds of far-away rooms, and the wind outside, filled the seconds as Sunset replayed the conversation in her head, trying to figure out if there was a common thread to the seemingly disjointed statements.
She was still attempting to figure it out, when the princess added more words to the mix. “Sometimes wise words come from terrible minds. It was King Sombra who told me, to understand a pony, even yourself, you must only know what it is they fear the most.
“You needn't tell me, Sunset, but I want to consider: What is it that you fear the most?”
Sunset barely had to think. “Myself,” she answered aloud. “What I am capable of. The hurt I might one day cause.”
Princess Celestia nodded, and smiled melancholically. “So much of myself…” she murmured. “I am sorry, Sunset, but you are entitled to the truth, and I believe you need more than words.”
Magic crackled around the princess's horn. A glowing yellow orb, with a black core, floated down from the tip into the air between them. “Will you permit me?” Celestia asked.
Not fully understanding, Sunset nodded, still fully trusting the princess. The orb drifted across to Sunset's head, touching the base of her horn and…
…
Heat.
Burning.
Blinding.
Light.
Sunset stood (or sat?) in front of it. There was nothing that exactly described the feeling. Shoving her face into an open furnace, perhaps. Or staring at the sun, but the sun was not a tiny point of light but an all-encompassing wall that filled her vision filled her nostrils filled her ears and. And. She couldn't look away, couldn't move. She wanted to run, to scream and put her own eyes out but she couldn't move, even her eyelids even her eyes. If she moved she would die. It was there. The thing. The creature. The demon. About the size of a pony, if a pony could somehow be larger than a planet but still pony-sized, and she couldn't even look away. She thought perhaps the skin had already burned from her body, every inch of her was on fire. In fire. Full of fire, and light. Terrible, terrible, blinding hard merciless light crushing her from the inside out…
It moved. It was turning. Pleasepleaseoh please anyone, anything, take my body take my soul just please oh please don't. Let. It. See. Me.
Eyes. Redder than blood, deeper than death, older than pain and hotter than rage. They looked. They saw. She couldn't move. She couldn't look away. They looked. Into her. They looked into her through her eyes and it saw her.
A scream.
Black.
…
Cold.
Hard.
Marble. The floor.
Sunset was lying on the cold stone marble floor. Her limbs were spread out, her face and body pressed against the hard surface. She was gasping for air. Her eyes were screwed shut and she didn't dare open them. Her body was drenched in a cold sweat. She hugged the floor, clinging desperately to the sweet, beautiful cold. Her face felt especially wet, and her throat felt raw.
I'm alright, she told herself. I'm alive. I'm not hurt. I'm safe. I'm with the princess. I'm alright.
Slowly, oh so slowly, she began to steady herself. She opened her eyes. She was, indeed, still in Princess Celestia's throne room. It seemed darker, somehow. Had somepony dimmed the lights, and drawn the curtains, or was it just the contrast with what she had just experienced? Maybe it was evening already; Her memories of this room felt like mere seconds ago, but only if seconds could somehow span decades and still be seconds.
She tried to lift herself. Her limbs shook, her body so weak. Something floated in front of her — a goblet.
“Drink.”
The voice was soft, and warm, and Sunset was thirsty. She reached her lips to the goblet, and it tilted for her. Cool water met her lips. She sipped; She realised how dry her mouth was. She raised a hoof and pulled the goblet down, gulping down water like… like it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted. In that moment she could believe it was. A little too fast, and she began to cough.
“Easy.” The voice gently chided.
Sunset raised herself to her haunches, and looked around, taking the goblet with her own magic and continuing to sip on what little remained. The curtains had indeed been pulled together. Princess Celestia sat in one corner of the room, reading a book.
Sunset frowned. That was Princess Celestia, right? Something about her felt off. Sunset couldn't put her finger (or hoof) on why, but something about that figure, so much like the princess in every way, sat in shadows, felt…
Hot. Like a smouldering coal.
Sunset continued to stare, cautiously stepping forward to get a better view, her legs tremouring with each step. The princess closed her book, and raised her head. She turned her head to face Sunset and it was turning it would see her it had seen her.
Sunset stumbled back, slamming her eyes shut, flinching away from that terrible stare. The goblet slipped from her grasp, only to be caught before it hit the floor. Her heart once again hammered in her throat and she fell back to a sitting position, unable to remain standing.
Nothing happened, and continued to happen until Sunset's calmness slowly struggled back into control.
She forced her eyes open. She forced her head to turn back, back to the corner, back to whatever she had seen.
Princess Celestia set in the corner, staring at the empty floor half-way between them. She was waiting.
Something about the princess still felt wrong to Sunset, but every detail was correct. Maybe it was just her own nerves. “Princess?” she ventured, “What… what was that?”
The princess raised her eyes to meet Sunset's, and Sunset forced herself to not look away. This eyes were pink, not red. Kind, not burning. She was safe. She just had to keep telling herself that.
“I am sorry, Sunset,” said the princess. “I needed you to understand, what it is that I fear the most. Words alone could not make you understand, could not pierce through what you needed to unlearn.”
“So, it… it was just an illusion?”
The princess hesitated. “That,” she eventually affirmed, “was an illusion, of sorts.”
“You… you showed me a monster? One you're scared of? One we might have to fight one day?” Sunset realised she was pleading, almost begging the princess not to tell her the truth, to tell her that what she had just seen wasn't real at all.
“Yes, Sunset. A monster. One I fight almost every day. One I hope you will never have to. A monster named 'Princess Celestia, The Good, The Wise.'”
Sunset shook her head wordlessly, and the princess wandered across the room, to one of the windows. “Sunset,” she asked, “do you think the ponies of Equestria love me?”
The words “Of course.” rose to Sunset's lips, with an eager smile looking for an easy answer. Something else in her overtook them, though — an unexplained certainty that somehow, this would be exactly the wrong thing to say. Instead, she settled for: “Yes?”
“How?”
“Um, what?”
“How do they love somepony they have never met, and know almost nothing about? How much do you think the average pony knows of politics, or history, or me? What they feel isn't love, it's just…” she waved her hoof uncertainly, “training. Since they were born, every adult — parents, teachers, scholars — has told of them of 'The Good, The Wise, Princess Celestia'. They repeat it without even thinking, believe it without ever questioning, trust me…” the princess shuddered, “without ever asking me to earn it.”
“But… you have earned it.” Sunset ventured meekly.
“Have I? Do you know how many wars Equestria has been in during my reign? How many rebellions quashed, how many revolutionaries — " her words faltered — “executed. By my command.”
“You… you had to, though…” Sunset felt dampness in her eyes as she recoiled from Princess Celestia's words. “If, if Equestria hadn't defended itself then—”
“I know,” Celestia interrupted. “I know. It was necessary. It was logical. For every pony who died, because I ordered them to or because I ordered somepony else to kill them,” she took a deep breath, “maybe hundreds more were saved. Or maybe not. We will never know. I did the best I could, and I've made mistakes, but I always did the right thing.”
This proclamation hung in the air, until after a few moments the princess abruptly changed the subject. “Did Twilight tell you about her battle with Tirek?”
“Uh…” Sunset was still feeling shaken, but tried to keep up with the conversation nonetheless. “Spike did, mostly. Big magical laser-beams, fireballs, mountains blown up, that sort of thing. It sounded very… dramatic.”
“And how it ended?”
“Rainbow power, reality warp, giant castle.”
“Just before that, Tirek had Twilight's friends held hostage.”
Sunset's expression dropped. “They, uh, didn't mention that.”
“He offered a deal. Her friends, for all the alicorn magic in Equestria.”
“But, that's…” Sunset shook her head. “That's insane. If she just handed him all that power, nopony would be safe, including her friends. It's not even a real choice at all. Her friends… they understand that, right? She couldn't go and sacrifice all of Equestria, just for them.”
“She did.”
“Huh?”
“She surrendered. As it turns out, that awakened the magic needed to open the box of harmony, and… well, you know the rest.”
Sunset considered this. “She got lucky. Good for her, but it was the wrong decision.” She hesitated, “but to be honest, I might have done the same. Sacrificing the people you care about most… I don't know if I could do that.”
“I used to think that of myself.” The princess opened the curtain, to reveal the stained-glass depiction of Princess Twilight's defeat of Lord Tirek. Sunset cringed slightly, as sunlight bathed the solar princess, once again in heat and light. “Until I did. I banished Luna. I didn't know if she would ever escape, not at the time.”
The princess turned, and Sunset froze. Surely it was just the coloured light, that made her pink eyes seem redder, and deeper? More than that, though, her expression was not… Princess-Celestia-like. “I learned something, Sunset. I learned that for the sake of Equestria, there is no line I will not cross. No pony, however dear to me, that I will not sacrifice. The very worst evils in the world are committed by those who act with the absolute conviction that they are right, and that this justifies any means. Ponies like me.”
Sunset was sweating again. Her legs wanted to run. She felt like she was standing against a storm. Princess Celestia had often radiated a sense of power, of might and majesty that reminded every pony around her that here was the millennia-old being who commanded the very heavens. It had always been a little intimidating, but reassuring, ancient and dependable as mountains.
Now it felt different. It was lesser, perhaps, but nearer. More raw. More deadly. Like comparing the distant sun to a forest fire you were standing in the path of. It reminded Sunset far too much of an angry and arrogant teenage girl, who had stolen another's crown and been overwhelmed. A demon who would burn the world down if it dared defy her.
“You're…” Sunset had to force the words out, “you're different. You're a good pony.”
The Princesses expression softened, and she turned away. “Perhaps. But so was Luna. I am not above pride, Sunset, or anger. I make mistakes, and I have learned time and again how blind I can be to the very things that should matter most. One day, I may become something monstrous, if I have not already.”
Was that what the princess feared? What Sunset had seen? Another Nightmare Moon — or… Nightmare Sun?
“I am surrounded by ponies who praise my every word. I have tried to ensure the government of Equestria has in place checks and balances, laws that even I am not above. I have tried to teach ponies to vote, and to ensure that my government — the government — can rule without me. Yet I know that if I merely gave the word, Equestria would go to war. Hundreds upon thousands of ponies would spill blood, theirs and other's, because they know that I am always 'right'. They would never even ask why.
“Sunset,” asked the princess, “please tell me honestly — do you still trust me, completely?”
Sunset looked into those eyes, eyes that held such warmth and gentleness, yet now eyes in which she could see something ancient and cruel. She wanted to trust, so badly, yet…
Sunset shut her eyes, turning her head away. “Yes,” she answered.
“Truly?”
“No. I'm sorry. Not… not completely. Not anymore.” Sunset felt a tear run down her cheek.
“Good. Thank you, Sunset.”
Sunset looked up again.
“I do not want blind loyalty, Sunset. I want, if I might dare, I need a friend. Somepony to tell me if I go too far. Somepony to question me, somepony to… to stop me. Will you? In case the time comes, will you promise me? Whatever it takes, you will stop me?”
“Princess, are you asking me…?”
“If it comes to it, Sunset, if I am a danger to other ponies… I would rather be dead than become that.”
“Princess, I don't think I could. I mean, I'm not strong enough.”
“You will not be alone, my dear student, and you are stronger than you know. Besides, you may find that I am not so powerful as you imagine.”
Sunset stared into her teacher's eyes, and saw more of herself there than she ever would have believed. She knew the answer, because she knew what she would want, in Celestia's place.
“All right. I promise.”
“Thank you.”
“Does Twilight know?”
The princess shook her head. “No, she never asked. But Twilight is different. From the day I first began to teach her, she would question me constantly, always pushing for me to support my statements. I have not known any pony so ready to question my judgement, not for a very long time. Blind obedience seems the very antithesis of her; Independant thought at the very core of her being. She is always doubting me, for all the regard she seems to hold me in, and I have little doubt that she would oppose me without the need to be asked, if she decided that my decisions were wrong. Truly,” the princess grinned, “she is my most faithful student.
“You asked me, Sunset, why I keep asking too much of you both, sending my students to battle enemies that I should be able to face by myself. Why I do not intervene directly, for the most part. Do you now feel that you understand the answer?”
Sunset stared at the floor, making sure the words made sense in her head before speaking them aloud. “You don't want us to rely on you. If you do everything for us, we will never learn how to stand up to you. You need us to know how to defend ourselves, because one day you might be the pony we need to defend ourselves from.”
“Yes,” affirmed the princess, “and also, the more the ponies of Equestria look up to ponies such as Princess Twilight Sparkle, the less they focus on me, and me alone. I said before that Equestria would go to war on my merest word, even a decade ago I believe that was certainly true, but now? If the other princesses opposed me, and spoke up against me, I do believe Equestria would hesitate, at the very least. I cannot tell you what a comfort that is to me.”
“I think you might have done,” replied Sunset. “Will you visit Twilight in the hospital?”
The princess sank. “Sunset… you were right. It is in essence my fault that she is there.”
“Nah, I gave her too little credit, and now you are, too. Besides, we both know it would mean a lot to her. And it would mean a lot to you, too. Little everyday friendship things are what keep the demons away.”
Princess Celestia grinned, and smiled. “Sometimes the wisest ideas come from great minds. All right, I will go right away, since I had to cancel the day courts early.”
Sunset did not miss the slight dig at her. “Well, next time I feel like screaming at you, I'll try to remember to make an appointment, first.”
Celestia sniggered. “That might be advisable. I am glad my guards waited for my signal before attempting to arrest you, this time. Oh, and Sunset?” the princess paused in the main doorway, then leaned in towards Sunset and continued in a conspiratorial whisper, gesturing to a smaller door in the corner of the room, “that doorway leads to my chambers, straight down the hall. If you want to make use of my bathroom, you have my full permission. And don't worry about the floor.”
Sunset nodded, and glanced quizzically back at the floor where she'd been lying. There was indeed the shine of wetness — had she really been sweating that much? And a slight yellow-ish tint…
Oh. Yep. She'd wet herself. That embarrassment would be haunting her for a while, now.
“Not the first time,” Celestia reassured her, “I've had this conversation with a few other students over the centuries, after all. I'm honestly impressed at how quickly you recovered.”
Sunset's cheeks burned, but she didn't have an answer, so she began the walk to Celestia's bathroom.
“Ah,” remarked Princess Luna, encountering Sunset Shimmer in the hallway, “the 'what I fear most' speech?”
Sunset nodded.
“Wet yourself?”
Sunset nodded, embarrassedly.
“Did she use me as an example?”
Sunset nodded, again.
Luna rolled her eyes. “I honestly cannot fathom why ponies deem me to be 'the over-dramatic one'.”
With this, she turned and walked away, mane swirling around her like a billowing cloak of pure night.
Later that day, Sunset was once again visiting Twilight in the hospital — Princess Celestia had been and gone.
The two sat, and talked, and laughed. Sunset felt her spirits lift, but certain thoughts still plagued her.
Eventually, she asked what was on her mind.
“Uh, Twilight? I was just wondering, um. Not wanting to dampen the mood, but…” at the last minute, she tried to think of a better phrasing, but nothing came to mind. “Supposing, I mean, just imagine, hypothetically, if, if I went… bad, again. If I was hurting ponies. If you could stop me, but not without hurting me. Or worse. If… if the only way to stop me was to…
“Would you? Would you do that, for me? Twilight? Would you stop me from hurting ponies?”
“Sunset,” Twilight took a slow breath, her expression serious, “are you asking whether I would kill you, to protect Equestria?”
Sunset nodded.
“No,” answered Twilight. “I'd stop you, but I'd find a way to save you. Always.”
“But… what if there wasn't a way?”
“I'd find one.”
“But sometimes there isn't one!”
Twilight shook her head. “I refuse to believe that.”
Sunset wanted to shake her, to argue with her, but how could she argue with something as absurd as that? Then she remembered some of Princess Celestia's words: “Twilight is different”, “She reminds me of Starswirl”, and most importantly, “In so many ways you remind me far more of myself.”
The heroic decision. The logical decision. Sacrifice your friends, or lose all of Equestria, friends included. Banish your own sister, or watch her rain terror on the kingdom you both worked so hard to create. Kill your own beloved mentor, or watch the twisted monster she had become rampage across Equestria while you searched vainly for a way to save her.
Twilight had made a choice.
Celestia had made her choice, too, long ago.
Sunset had made a promise. She didn't plan on breaking it, and didn't regret making it.
She and Twilight were very different ponies.
Sunset had learned something very important about Princess Celestia today.
She'd learned something about herself, too.
Author's Note
OK, just an idea I've had in my head for a while, and wanted to get written down. I may have overplayed the drama and angst a bit, but I think it would have been boring otherwise.