It was, by all accounts, a beautiful day. The sun shone brightly, the grass was green and springy underhoof, and the temperature was just brisk enough that ponies could justify putting on their winter clothes, but not so cold that they couldn’t leave them behind at home if they decided that those clothes weren’t quite as fetching as they’d imagined when they bought them. It was the sort of day about which no reasonable pony could possibly complain.
“Oh sweet Celestia, this weather is the worst!” cried Sunset Shimmer, smacking a hoof against the windowsill as she glared at the outside world.
“I’m right here, you know,” said Princess Celestia, a smile curling the corners of her lips. She joined Sunset at the window, looking out upon the city of Canterlot in all its sprawling glory. “There’s no need for such dramatics, I’m sure.”
Sunset was not mollified. “But look! There’s no snow, and Hearth’s Warming is tomorrow! How are we supposed to have a Hearth’s Warming with no snow?”
Celestia put a wing over Sunset’s back, guiding her gently away from the window and toward the center of the castle chamber. “I have seen hundreds of Hearth’s Warmings, my dear student, and I can assure you that a lack of snow has never once caused the holiday to be cancelled. In fact, in some of the southern parts of Equestria, it almost never snows for Hearth’s Warming, and ponies still—”
“I don’t care what they do in the south! There’s supposed to be snow on the ground at Hearth’s Warming! There’s always snow!”
Celestia’s face became more neutral, and she lifted her wing. Sunset clamped her mouth shut, aware that the Princess was no longer humoring her.
“Sunset, what three words have I asked you to stop using in my presence?”
A half-hearted mumble was her only answer.
“Sunset…”
“‘I don’t care.’ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I just…” Sunset looked down, frowning at the carpet. “...I like the snow. And it should snow for Hearth’s Warming.” She scuffed a hoof. “It always snows for Hearth’s Warming.”
Celestia smiled again. “Perhaps it always has in your lifetime, but I assure you that this will not be the first time I’ve seen the spires of Canterlot bare for the holidays. And speaking from experience?” She leaned close, and looked at Sunset with a twinkle in her eye. “Those years were no less special to me.”
Sunset nodded weakly. “Okay,” she said, her voice still a bit too weak for her own liking.
Celestia nodded back, then straightened and walked to the door. “I have business to attend to, but I would very much like to see you again this evening. Until then?”
Rather than speak and risk her voice betraying her again, Sunset simply nodded one more time, and Celestia opened the door. Pausing as she exited, the princess looked back to her student. Already, Sunset noted, her face bore that opaque mask which she invariably wore in public. It was the only expression of hers which most ponies had ever known, but Sunset had seen what lay behind it often enough in the last year to recognize the affect. Celestia spoke. “Oh, and Sunset? Until then, perhaps you might consider reflecting on the history of Hearth’s Warming.” A knowing grin peeked through the mask, just for a second. “I think you’ll find your concerns put at ease soon enough.” With that, she closed the door gently.
*****
“Reflecting on the history of Hearth’s Warming” might have seemed to most ponies like a kindly way of brushing someone off, but Sunset Shimmer wasn’t “most ponies.” She’d been the princess’s prize student for almost a year now, and she knew a test when she saw one. So the passage of an hour saw her hunched over a heavy oak table near the back of the royal library, her head buried deep in a history book, looking for some clue as to what Celestia might have meant. Page after page flew by as she muttered to herself, trying to find something that would shed some light on the princess’s cryptic phrasing. After all, when had she ever not been cryptic?
“‘You’ll find your concerns put at ease…’” she muttered to herself, rolling the words over in her mind. With a shake of her head, she dove back into her reading. She wormed her way through the book as fast as comprehension allowed, until...
“AHA!” she cried triumphantly, leaping up on the table and dramatically planting her hoof on an illustration of the three tribes fleeing their homelands. At last, she knew exac—
“Shhh!” shushed a matronly librarian. Sunset bristled, but she’d long since learned not to doubt the resolve of the library’s dry, dusty, and unfailingly cranky sentinels. Or at least, not to doubt their ability to get her in trouble with Celestia. She got down off the table and took her seat quietly.
“Aha,” she whispered, gently setting her hoof on an illustration of the three tribes fleeing their homelands. At last, she knew exactly what she needed to do.
*****
Celestia loomed over Sunset Shimmer. Normally she would lower her neck to look Sunset in the eyes when they talked, but now she stood tall, staring sternly down, her disappointment plain to see.
Sunset Shimmer glared back up at her, standing her ground as she tried to meet that disappointment with her own defiance.
After a tense moment, Celestia sighed and took a seat. Sunset remained standing. “Sunset,” Celestia said, rubbing the base of her horn with a hoof. “Would you care to tell me why I’m returning from court to find that you’ve been restricted to my chamber ‘for your own good?’”
“You already asked the guard at the door,” Sunset said, unable to keep the pout from her voice even as she continued to glare. “Why don’t you tell me what he said?”
Celestia sighed again. She didn’t speak right away, but after a few moments, she answered. “He told me you’ve been spending the afternoon running around the castle, insulting everypony you met. He told me you’ve been rushing about, seemingly bent on being as unpleasant as possible to as many ponies as you can. He told me he literally followed a path of crying fillies and colts to find you, and that he brought you here as much for your own safety as for the sanity of everypony in the castle.” She pursed her lips. “He also told me that you said to him, and I’m quoting, that ‘you should enjoy your power trip while you can, because when I become a princess, I’m going to throw you out on the street like the dirty mule you are.’”
Sunset didn’t flinch. “I don’t care if it’s rude, mules are dirty.”
“What three words have I—”
“I DON’T CARE!” Sunset cried. “I don’t care, Celestia! I did exactly what you said, and what happened? I got picked up by the scruff of my neck and sent to the teacher’s room like a little foal! What was this supposed to teach me, Celestia? Huh? What?”
Celestia shook her head, and suddenly Sunset thought she looked very old. “Sunset, have I ever given you a single lesson which could be solved with cruelty?” She looked her student in the eye. “Tell me first, what do you think I was trying to teach you?”
“You said I should study Hearth’s Warming, so I could fix this stupid weather,” Sunset said. Her eyes started to water, but she soldiered on. “You said if I thought about it, I’d figure out how to make everything better. And I did!” She sniffed. “I figured it out, I mean. I read in the books about how ponies back before the Founding were angry and mean to each other, and that made the windigos come and cover everything in ice. But even though I tried to make everypony really mad, they never came.” A bit of iron returned to her voice as she added, “And then your stupid guard locked me in here.”
Celestia stood and walked to the window. “Sunset,” she began, peeking between the drawn curtains and peering outside, “Do you really think that I would want you to spread anger and sadness across the city? Do you truly believe that that is what I intended for you to learn?”
Sunset grimaced. “I did what—”
“You did what you wanted to, without regard for others,” Celestia finished for her. “If you had studied the meaning of the first Hearth’s Warming, and not just its events, you would have learned something rather different. You would have learned, just as Smart Cookie, Private Pansy, and Clover the Clever did, that true power doesn’t come from blustery bravado or riding roughshod over anypony who is in your way. True power comes from a kinder, more beautiful place.” Turning to face her student, she said, “Come here, Sunset, and look out over Canterlot.”
Cringing, Sunset trotted up to the window and pushed aside the curtains. Then she gasped. “It can’t be… it’s…” Her voice caught, but finally she whispered...
“It’s snowing.”
Outside, teams of pegasi pushed cloud after cloud into position, forming a wispy grey ceiling over the city. As they were moved into place, other teams began coaxing snow out of them—only a few flurries, but more all the time. Already, the spires of Canterlot were dusted with white.
“It won’t be much, just a half-inch or so. Still, it seems we’ll have a white Hearth’s Warming after all,” Celestia observed.
Sunset gaped. “Did you do this?” When Celestia nodded, she broke out into a grin which spread nearly ear-to-ear. “You did it. You ordered all those—”
“I asked them, Sunset,” Celestia gently interrupted. She gestured to the window. “Every pony out there is a volunteer, working together to bring a bit of snow to Canterlot. Not just for you, but for all the ponies in this city who wished for a white Hearth’s Warming.” Celestia wrapped her wing around Sunset. “This is the lesson I wanted you to learn: that when ponies work together in friendship and harmony, there is nothing they cannot do.”
Sunset snuggled against the princess, never taking her eyes off the window. “So… if I act nice, ponies will do what I want without me having to order them around?”
Celestia opened her mouth, then closed it again. After a long moment, she smiled. “I suppose that’s close enough for now.”
Sunset frowned, even as her eyes remained full of wonder. “I don’t want to be ‘close enough,’” she said, still watching the flurries fall.
“I know you don’t,” Celestia agreed. “And I believe this is a lesson you will fully grasp, in time. Perhaps not this very moment, but I am certain that there will come a day when you look back to this evening, and understand with perfect clarity.”
She gazed out the window with Sunset. “You still have much to learn, my dear student, but I have no doubt that you will go on to do great things one day.”
Together, the two of them watched the snow fall.
*****
It was, by all accounts, a beautiful night. The moon glowed gently, the snow was clean and white upon the rooftops, and the temperature was just brisk enough for ponies to feel properly grateful to be sitting inside by roaring fires, without being so cold that they’d actually feel concerned about the prospect of having to make a trip to the shed to get more wood. It was the sort of night about which no reasonable pony could possibly complain.
“Happy Hearth’s Warming, my dear student,” murmured Princess Celestia. She carefully tucked a blanket around Sunset Shimmer, who was curled up next to her by the fire.
Sunset didn’t reply. She was already fast asleep.
