Chapters

First Chapter - You Could Have Been Great
Second Chapter - Flower Fall
Third Chapter - You're Not That Cute
Fourth Chapter - Almost Like A Mother
Fifth Chapter - The Girl of My Dreams
Sixth Chapter - You Still Love Them

First Chapter - You Could Have Been Great
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Sunsettle For This

First Chapter - You Could Have Been Great

Star-crossed lovers don’t get it.

Picture the most important table in the world. It’s plain-looking, just a plank of wood with three legs, but it decides the ending of every story that ever existed. Because, like many things in this life, what matters is not the object itself. It’s the things that surround it.

Fate, on the right.

Time, on the left.

The Love That Could Not Be is the name of the game. Mortals will always blame Fate for their misery, cursing the stars and burning Oracles at the stake because they can’t be together with the one they most desire—but they’re missing the point. Fate has nothing to do with this. The real villain here is Time, the enemy of all mortals. Time has no mercy.

Fate is constantly trying its best, really, but there’s just so much you can do when your opponent routinely murders every single thing that ever existed. Fate’s victories are short-lived. Time is really good at the long game.

This is a game of cards, but there are still pieces on the board, and Fate and Time place them with practiced skill. One of them, a pony, miserable and lonely in Equestria. The other, now a human, living a failed life in another world.

The pieces make the first move.

It starts with a little woman, named Celestia, back in the human dimension. She was the principal of Canterlot High School, and one particular Saturday she walked into her office, only to find she was not alone.

An ex-student of hers was there, bleeding out all over her carpet.

And to this, Principal Celestia just sighed and shook her head. “Sunset Shimmer,” she said. “Again?”

FIRST CHAPTER:
YOU COULD HAVE BEEN GREAT

There’s an art to being disemboweled. Anybody can bleed to death, but it takes a true professional to do it right.

It’s all about the details, really. You have to twitch to the left, for example, because it makes it easier to clean if the janitor is right-handed. If you’re wearing a skirt, point your knees inwards to maintain your decency. You say please and thank you before and after dying. This is all stuff you learn through sheer repetition. Practice makes perfect.

At this point, Sunset Shimmer had become an expert on being disemboweled. But she was too busy screaming to act like a professional.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH,” Sunset screamed.

Because her liver had just fallen out.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH,” Sunset continued.

“Your liver just fell out,” Celestia muttered, poking Sunset with her cane. “Are you okay?”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.”.

“Knees inwards, please. We’re not intimate with each other yet.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.”

This went on for several minutes.

A softer, less experienced person, would have argued that “mild annoyance” was not the most ethical way to feel when facing a dying girl. However, Principal Celestia knew better.

It wasn’t like she hated teenagers. Far from it: as a teacher, she adored the abstract concept of young people. It was just the individuals she had a problem with, because Celestia had an extremely detailed idea of what an ideal teenager should be like, and they just refused to listen.

However, she was confident one day she’d meet one who wasn’t an absolute tool. Any day now.

“Say, shouldn’t you be in shock around now? Or at least unconscious?”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.”

Aaaaaany day now.

“I do not have time for such foolery, Sunset Shimmer,” Principal Celestia eventually said. She had trouble walking these days, even with her cane, but she still managed to go around Sunset and look at her disapprovingly. Disapproving looks were one of those things that came naturally with age. “Get better already.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.”

That was enough of an answer to her. “Here,” Celestia said, dropping her cane on top of Sunset Shimmer. “Pick it up for me, please?”

Amongst the excruciating pain, Sunset Shimmer found the will to grab the cane. With shaking hands, she nudged it in Celestia’s direction.

And there was a flash!

Thirty seconds later, a now spotless – and furrier – Sunset Shimmer got up and coughed, her throat hoarse from all the yelling. “Eeghk,” she said. “Thanks.”

“Just for once, I’d like it for you to appear without being mortally wounded, Sunset Shimmer,” Celestia said, as she frowned and looked at the mess that was now her office. “It’s starting to get old.”

“Sorry, sorry. Ran into a little bit of trouble.” She coughed again, and wiped her mouth. “Believe me, I don’t like this either. It’s rather annoy—WOAH!” Sunset took a step back and gave Celestia a good hard look. “Oh my gosh. You look so old. You look way older than I thought you’d look.”

A moment.

Celestia sighed. “Please, don’t.”

“What are you, a hundred years old?!”

“Sunset Shimmer, we met less than two weeks ago. Please, stop trying to act like Rainbow Dash.” Celestia rested her back against the wall. “At times like this I can’t help but wonder if you would have survived this long if you couldn’t pony up with such ease. You’re misusing that gift.”

“…Hey, not my fault if the magic of friendship has lowered its standards,” Sunset said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna take what I can. Shame the mess didn’t disappear, though.” She crossed her arms and kicked something that minutes ago had been inside her stomach. “Maybe if I befriended the carpet…?”

“You have an intimate enough relationship with my furniture already, Sunset Shimmer.”

Sunset made a face.[1]

[1] It had happened once, and she had never lived it down. It’s not like Celestia had even owned that desk, for heaven’s sake.

Ignoring the glare, Celestia just shook her head. “Whatever happened to you, Sunset Shimmer? You could have been so much more. You could have been great. And yet…” She made a broad gesture, pointing at the entire office. “This?”

“Hm?” Sunset arched an eyebrow. “Ah. Uh. I stabbed a policeman on my way here.”

Silence.

Celestia arched an eyebrow.

Sunset summoned a sheepish smile. “…And then he stabbed me back.”

A world away, there lived a pony named Twilight Sparkle.

Twilight Sparkle was a princess, and a darn good one, to boot. Her castle was made of crystal, which, albeit slightly uncomfortable, was admittedly really royal. Her main aide was a dragon, with all the status that brought. She had five fabulous friends who also happened to be the Chosen Ones, Saviors of the World. She had achieved a higher form of existence on her own merits.

She’d had, in short, a fantastic life.

Which ultimately proved that it was possible to win your way up to failure.

“Twilight!” Pinkie Pie kicked open the door to her library with an urgency usually reserved for those who had severely misread the expiration date on a yoghurt eaten a night ago. “I need your help!”

Twilight’s eyes shone like pearls in front of a house on fire. She closed the book she’d been reading and got up immediately, wings open in excitement. “Yes? Is there a problem? Anything I can help with?!”

“Indeed!” And Pinkie produced a book from her mane. “I need you to look at this!”

Twilight only got more excited. “What is it? Is it a Friendship Problem?! Is it a threat to Equestria?!” She had to stop herself from jumping around. “Is that book going to put everything we know and love in danger?!”

“No!” Pinkie replied, her voice still on fire. “It’s just my finances!”

“Your finances!”

“Yes!” Pinkie was serious. “They’re a mild inconvenience! At best!”

“That is extremely disappointing!”

“I know! So, are you busy?”

And Twilight sighed. “Not really. Come in, Pinkie.”

Win your way up to failure, all right. For the last ten years, life had been extremely flipping boring.

Twilight Sparkle was an alicorn, but she was still mortal,[2] and no mortal can stand the passage of Time unscathed. It’s in their nature to look back with rose-tinted glasses on, and discover how quickly happiness fades, and how fast it turns into misery once it’s gone.

[2] That was the leading theory, anyway. Her mom had strictly forbidden any experiment destined to prove or disprove her mortality, in a move Twilight had deemed embarrassingly unscientific.

Equestria was a utopia nowadays. It was ruled by two immortal sisters, which meant that the government was really really really good at long-term thinking. A meal on every plate, a roof over every head, and Twilight wanted to pull out her teeth in frustration, because her entire lifestyle had been built on her ability to solve conflicts.

She had made it. She had ended every war, befriended every monster, and solved every problem. She had won at life. And now there was absolutely nothing to do.

It didn’t matter how you went about your life. Time always found an angle.

Ten minutes later, sitting with Pinkie to help with her finances, Twilight couldn’t help to frown as she opened the book [3].

[3] She didn’t frown at the book, of course. She wasn’t a barbarian. She was merely frowning in the general direction of the book.

“We were great once,” she said as she absent-mindedly turned the pages, eyes gracing through the numbers without really registering anything. “Do you remember, Pinkie? Fighting monsters, discovering new ways to work on our friendship, saving the world…”

“Uh-huh.” Pinkie was also looking at the book. “See, I just think that there’s way too much red in this book for it to be right! There shouldn’t be all this red, right?”

“I mean, nothing wrong with peace, don’t get me wrong.” Twilight sighed. “It’s just, don’t you sometimes miss it? I have nothing to do these days. At least Princess Celestia raises the Sun, but I just sit in this castle and read my days away.”

“Like that. See?” Pinkie pointed. “That’s a lot of zeroes, too. Is that normal? I’m not that good with numbers. Oh! Did I tell you about the yoghurt I ate the other day and—”

“Hmm.” Unable to really read anything, Twilight just closed the book and gave it back. “It’s all good, Pinkie. No reason to worry.” It wasn’t like anything bad was going to happen anyway, so there was no reason to fret.

“Twilight?” Pinkie frowned as she took the book and immediately put it back in her mane and out of her mind. “Are you okay? You look gloomy!”

“Hm? Oh!” Twilight blinked, shook her head and smiled to her friend. “Yes! Of course I am okay! It’s just… I’ve been thinking a lot, Pinkie. That’s all.”

“Are you sure? Maybe I can help!”

“I wish. That would mean we had a problem on the first place.” Twilight just stretched her wings and walked towards the window. “I’m struggling a bit with… growing up. One can say.” A frown. “Or not growing up? It’s vague. The feeling of stagnation.”

“Stagnation?”

“Yes.”

The most chipper of smiles on Pinkie’s face as she said her four favorite words: “I don’t get it!”

“Nopony does,” Twilight muttered. “You can move on with your lives, it’s just me who… If there was only somepony who understood my situation…”

Then something blinded her, and she had to look to the side and blink three times. The sun had come out from behind the clouds and was shining bright, bringing light into the library.

“Somepony who understands my situation,” Twilight repeated, this time louder.

And silence filled the library.

Pinkie looked at Twilight, then at the window, then at Twilight again. The princess was whimsically staring right into the sun. No words were said.

Three seconds passed.

“Um. Twilight?” Pinkie ventured.

“Hmm?”

“Are you having a moment of realization, or are you just trying to blind yourself? Because I need to use your bathroom—boy, never eating yoghurt again—but maybe I shouldn’t leave you alone.”

“Hmmm.” Twilight’s finally closed her eyes. “Little bit of both,” she said, and then she turned to Pinkie without opening her eyes, her face the perfect image of calmness. “Pinkie. I know what do now.”

“Oh. Sweet! Does it involve blinding yourself?”

“I doubt so.” Twilight opened her eyes. They were red. “I’m going to Canterlot.”

Some lessons are learned through age, but many more only come after a particularly bad string of mistakes. Principal Celestia realized this when she asked Sunset Shimmer how, exactly, she’d made it all the way up to her office with a stab wound like that in the first place.

“There’s a short answer and a long answer to that,” Sunset said, simply.

“The short one. How did you make it?”

“Barely.”

Celestia resisted the urge to scratch the space between her eyes in frustration, because she knew that the moment she gave in she was just never going to stop. Sunset Shimmer was not a nice person to be around. “Perhaps the long one would be better, please?”

And that was her second mistake.

What followed was a long and horrifying conversation on Sunset Shimmer’s latest adventure, which did not involve otherworldly foes, magical feats, and the power of friendship, as it might have done back in the days. No, this one involved a lot of mud, rabid ducks, an egg sandwich, a surprising amount of foul language, and a rather show-stealing appearance by a homeless man named Squattin’ Steve.

Mind that Squattin’ Steve didn’t necessarily steal the show because he was a great protagonist; the man was the literary equivalent of dunking your head in a pool of diuretic acid. No, the reason why Squattin’ Steve became the centerpiece of the entire dialogue was because Sunset Shimmer really went into excruciating detail when it came to the hobo.

The thing about Squattin’ Steve, she explained, the thing was—you thought you didn’t know the origin of his nickname? But you did. You really, really did. The moment he showed it to you [4] was the moment you realized you’d known all this time. You were just too afraid to think about it.

[4] And he would, because shame was one of the many, many virtues Squattin’ Steve lacked.

Of course, knowing that Principal Celestia would probably never meet the man—the myth!—himself, Sunset Shimmer was polite enough to end her recounting with a dutiful explanation on the mysteries that surrounded the figure of Squattin’ Steve.

“Okay!” Principal Celestia said, gripping her cane with both hands so hard her knuckles went white. “Please, Sunset Shimmer, please shut up.”

“I’m not done, though! See, then he gets his hands like this and—”

“If I want to be terrified, I just watch the news, Sunset Shimmer.” Celestia stroke the cane against the ground twice, toc toc, and it echoed through the room with ghostly strength. “Now please, stop talking about the homeless population of the city, and pay attention.”

“Well. Okay.” Sunset Shimmer stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket and looked around. “So, why did we come to the library?”

“Because I need to show you something.” Celestia pointed to one of the computers. “Help me turn it on.” She’d never got a hand of the blasting things.

Canterlot High School was a top school, and as such, its computers were both old and low-quality. There was nobody else in the building at the moment, however, so the internet connection was fast—and that was all that Celestia needed.

It still took the thing around fifteen minutes to boot up, though.

“Hmm.” Celestia sat down right next to Sunset and looked away. The library looked bigger without all those teenagers walking around with smiles on their faces. It looked emptier. Lonelier.

Better. It looked better. She wished it could stay this way forever.

“I hate seeing you like this, Sunset Shimmer,” she said, looking back at the girl. “Even though we have our differences, you’re still my ex-student. This is not right.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad. Homelessness is good once you throw away your shame. Can I crash at your sofa?”

“I’m not talking about homelessness. I’m talking about…” Celestia made a vague gesture. “This. Everything. You being stabbed by a policeman, Squattin’ Steve, ponying up because you made the magic of friendship feel ashamed of itself. I understand that it was hard, your position, after everything that happened, but—”

“Yes, yes.” Sunset rolled her eyes as the screen finally lightened up, and she logged in. “I know how this goes, I’ve wasted my potential. Can I crash at your sofa or not?”

A frown. “I’m trying to be serious, Sunset Shimmer. Could you please stop trying to abuse my hospitality?”

“Look, at one point in life, everything boils down to abusing somebody else’s hospitality. Excuse me if I just go straight to the point.”

Celestia chose, quite wisely[5], to ignore everything Sunset was saying and just continue with her speech as she took the keyboard. “You could have been great,” she said, typing slowly. “You were a good student. You only live under a bridge because you gave up too easily.”

[5] In her own opinion, anyways, which was the only one that mattered.

“Hmm.” Sunset rested her chin on her hand and looked at Celestia with calculating eyes. “Say,” she said after a moment. “Did I ever tell you that you rule the world where I come from?”

A pause.

Principal Celestia took her eyes off the screen, blinking. “Sorry?”

“Yeah! Your pony self is both immortal and queen of the land. She never ages.”

“…Immortal?”

“And queen of the land. She rules the world.” Sunset smiled. “The whoooole world. One and only authority. Total adoration from her subjects.”

And despite her best efforts, Celestia leaned towards Sunset, suddenly interested. “So she’s in charge?”

Sunset felt her face tense up with a smile.

It didn’t really matter how long you’d been reformed, or how true your remorse was—once you were a true villain, you always knew how to think like one. It just came naturally to you, and redemption meant keeping yourself in check.

But one didn’t live near Squattin’ Steve for so long without resorting to every trick up their sleeve. Sunset had her priorities straight, and Celestia’s couch was famously comfy. Empires fell not with violence, but with sweet, flattering words. It wasn’t an exact science—if each failure was a strike, Sunset had been dangerously close to an out many a time.

If she made it, though? Then, she could turn anything upside down.

So she spoke.

“Oh, she has been in charge forever—we don’t really like democracy in Equestria,” Sunset said. “Way we see it, makes more sense to just give all the power to the one pony we’re sure knows what she’s doing. The one that really matters, you know?”

Celestia looked down, and she interlocked her fingers on top of the cane. This sounded familiar. This sounded extremely familiar. Like an old dream she’d gave up on a long time ago. But—no, this was foolery. Unless… “And everybody does what she asks them to do?”

“Benefits of being a benevolent dictator. Crazy, huh? You even get to say what ‘benevolent’ means.”

Would Celestia dare to dream? She shouldn’t, and she knew, but Celestia felt the words leave her mouth whether she wanted or not. “Even… Even the teenagers?”

And this was the real kicker. Manipulation was all about saying the right things at the right time. So knowing she had landed this one, Sunset leaned in, put on her best smooth voice, and whispered the words the Celestia so desperately wanted to hear.

“Especially teenagers.”

And Celestia gave out a soft gasp.

“Why,” Sunset said, “I can tell you more, if I want. I just need to… To crash…”

And then she blinked, and her train of thought came to an abrupt end. She’d caught something out of the corner of her eye, in the computer screen—a picture of a woman. The thing Celestia had wanted her to see.

She didn’t say any more words.

Celestia, forgotten, got up, a new spark of determination in her eye. Her mind was full of old projects, and one particular idea she’d always wondered if could work. Nothing to lose, nowadays. She was too old to pay for the consequences anyway. “I need to go, Sunset Shimmer.”

“Hmm-hm.”

“Close the door after you go. And don’t forget to turn off the lights.”

“Hmm-hm.”

And then Celestia left.

Sunset didn’t.

She spent a lot of time in front of that screen, looking at the picture Celestia had searched, reading the text that came with it over and over. It was a newspaper clipping—something about a lawyer landing an extremely difficult case. Big news, huge precedent. Important stuff.

Sunset Shimmer played with her hair as she read it for the tenth time. Her hair, which hadn’t changed with time, just like the rest of her body. It was still as long as it had always been, framing her teenage face, matching the skirt she’d owned for so many years now. Her backpack, filled with what little possessions she still had. The shoes she’d never grown out of. The jacket that still fit her like the first day.

So much time had passed, but she hadn’t aged a single day.

Because of the way Equestrian magic worked, Sunset Shimmer was an eternal teenager. It was probably something related to how dimensions mixed together; an impossible miracle made mundane.

But that wasn’t the case for the lawyer who had won that important case. She was definitely an adult. She looked like she hadn’t slept well lately in that photo, and her suit didn’t fit her perfectly, but she looked happy. Like she hadn’t squatted in her entire life.

Her name was written at the bottom of the photograph: Sunset Shimmer.

Her human self. Her adult self.

When she finally left the library, she forgot to turn off the lights.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand you, Twilight Sparkle.” Princess Celestia closed her majestic wings and looked at her faithful student from her throne, sunlight coming from the window behind it, making her white coat look like gold and fire. “I am perfectly content with my life.”

Twilight’s face fell. “Really?”

Celestia nodded. “Really.”

“Not even the slightest bit of depression? Not a single modicum of ennui?”

“I’d say no. I’m rather happy.” A pause. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Silence.

Celestia squinted. “…Why are your eyes all red?”

And thus, the trip to Canterlot to find somepony who felt frustrated about the constant victories was deemed an absolute failure. Her first real failure in over ten years. Twilight did not appreciate the irony.

Still, this was a surprise. Of all ponies, Twilight had assumed Princess Celestia would understand her struggle. Surely, an immortal like her had lived through much more interesting times. Surely, she would get what Twilight meant when she said she was discontent about the lack of obstacles in her life.

“Um. No.” Celestia shot her an awkward smile. “That’s—that’s called peace. We all like peace. That’s what we always fight for, Twilight Sparkle.”

Well, okay, good point, but Twilight wasn’t talking about that. She was talking about the stillness, the lack of any thrill in her life. Didn’t Celestia hate the boredom, the frustration, as much as Twilight herself did?

“…Why would I fight for peace if I hated it?”

Twilight left the Throne Room.

Walking down the endless corridors of Canterlot Castle, she couldn’t help but grit her teeth. It was dumb of hers, she knew, but she’d hoped Celestia was going to give her some kind of advice, or at least to relate to her.

Maybe that’s what it was all about, she supposed. Her hooves echoed along the hallways. She didn’t want Celestia to solve all her problems, but she wanted to have somepony to talk to, somepony who would get her. It was normal to be disappointed like this; after all, she’d been looking forward to not feeling this—

Wait a second.

She felt lonely?

The realization almost made her stop in her tracks. Twilight Sparkle, the mare with a thousand friends, and she felt like she couldn’t relate to anypony else. She was lonely. Constantly surrounded by crowds, supported by the most wonderful friends she could hope for, and yet?

“And yet I’m lonely,” she muttered. “I can’t believe—I’m the Princess of Friendship and I’m lonely?!”

“I don’t know, Twilight Sparkle. Are you?”

The voice made her yelp, and Twilight turned around. Princess Luna came out from the shadows [6], mane and tail floating dark, hooves making no noise against the floor as she walked. Her face was perfectly neutral, no sign of a smile on her lips.

[6] There were no shadows in that hallway. It was half past noon on a cloudless day. However being the Princess of the Night came with some benefits, and the ability to be pointlessly ominous no matter the situation was one of them.

She gave Twilight one of those looks that could melt an iron chair and have the sitting pony say thank you, and then looked back to the Throne Room, face still unreadable. “Because I don’t think you are.”

“Princess Luna?” Twilight’s heartbeat almost managed to get back to normal, and she allowed herself to breathe. “You scared me!”

“I’m sorry. That was not my intention.” Luna gave her an apologetic nod. At least Twilight hoped that was an apologetic nod. “Are you lonely, Twilight Sparkle?”

Twilight’s ears went flat against her head. “Um. I don’t know. It’s—”

“I don’t think you’re lonely.”

Twilight’s ears perked up again.

“Walk with me,” Luna said, and then she started moving without waiting for a response. “I know a lot about loneliness, Twilight Sparkle. You might say, I know more than anypony else.”

Just like every time that Luna referenced her genocidal past, Twilight didn’t exactly know how to react. A noncommittal noise with her throat seemed like a good option, so she tried that.

It came out as “Gmrk.”

Luna paid it no mind. “Yes, indeed. After all, being immortal is a heavy burden. It’s hard to relate to ponies, when you know that you’re going to outlive them.”

Twilight blinked. “Gmrk?”

“And all those ponies I tried to kill, of course. Very lonely, that. Both before and after.”

“…Gmrk.”

“And it’s precisely because of that, Twilight Sparkle,” Luna continued, and she looked at her now, “that I know that you’re not lonely. Not really.”

That was more along the lines of what Twilight wanted to hear. “But how can you know that?” She asked. “Did you walk in my dreams again, or…?”

“I didn’t need to. Loneliness,” Luna continued, facing forward, “is not what you’re feeling. Why are your eyes red?”

“Uh. I got whimsical and stared at the sun.”

“Of course. Happens to the best of us.” Luna dropped her voice to something similar to a whisper. “Loneliness, Twilight Sparkle, is crushing. It’s crippling. It breaks your very mind. It makes you forget what you are. It makes you try to kill so many—”

“Please, don’t finish that sentence. I’ll choke if I try to stay noncommittal much longer.”

“Hm. You’re not lonely, Twilight Sparkle. You just have a void, somewhere in here.” And Luna stopped, and placed a hoof against Twilight’s chest. Her crystal shoe felt cold to the touch. “It is similar, yet not the same.”

Twilight looked down, at the hoof on her chest, then back at Luna. “A void?”

“An emptiness,” Luna continued, her voice barely more than a whisper. “A hole. Something you’re lacking. Something that everypony else has—that’s why you feel you can’t connect with others.” She looked away, and the faintest shadow of a frown appeared on her features. “But you can. You are not alone.”

“But what’s that hole, then? What am I lacking?” Twilight frowned. “Because I think I don’t lack anything. That’s kind of the entire point, actually. Everypony else seems to be content with how things are right now—and, I mean, I’m content too—but they just don’t seem to…”

Her words died in her mouth.

“To hate peace?” Luna suggested.

“Not my favorite choice of words, but yes,” Twilight admitted. “Kind of. So what am I lacking? Why am I like this?”

“That is for you to find, Twilight Sparkle.” Luna gave her a smile, now. It was soft, but gentle. “I can only nudge you in the right direction. I wish you good luck. I know you will do what’s right.”

And with that, Princess Luna left.

Twilight watched her go, mind blank. This would be a good time to think, but she didn’t even know where to start. She approached the nearest window and peeked through it, this time making sure not to stare whimsically at the sun. Her reflection returned her gaze, and she pondered about—

About nothing.

Wait a second.

Twilight blinked, and took a better look. Something went click; maybe in her head, maybe in her chest. It really depended on how literally one took Princess Luna’s metaphors.

Her reflection was nothing out of the ordinary—her eyes were still a bit red, though—but it made her remember. It made her think of mirrors, and more specifically, one mirror. The special one, back in her own castle in Ponyville.

Perhaps what she was lacking wasn’t something new. Perhaps it was just something she had forgotten.

Few things in this life are worse for the heart than the sure knowledge that there’s something wrong with you and you’re to blame. When facing a constant and unavoidable attack to one’s self-worth, the brave work to better themselves, and the coward scheme to worsen others.

Sunset Shimmer did neither. Because she had her priorities straight.

“…and that,” she finished, after fourteen minutes of careful explanation, “is the reason why I believe you have the moral obligation to let me crash at your place for a while. Like, at the guest room, or something, I’m not picky.”

Absolute silence followed.

It was four in the morning, Sunday was Adult Shimmer’s only day off, and she had just been woken up by a random teenager who had broken into her house with talks about multidimensional clones and a man who could squat like no other.

Adult Shimmer did the only thing one could do in this kind of occasion.

She called security.

“OH SWEET MERCY, NOT IN THE FACE, NOT IN THE FACE!”

“Go for the face,” Adult Shimmer said.

“NO!”

They went for the face.

Twilight frowned, book in front of her, and then put the quill down. “I don’t know if I should do this,” she said. “Part of me thinks it’ll help, but I can’t help but think I’m being a little… silly?”

“Why, of course you have to do it! It’s exactly what you’ve been looking for, now, hasn’t it?” Rarity said, from the left.

“Nah. You’re bein’ silly,” Applejack said, from the right.

A moment of silence.

“Well,” Twilight said. “That helps a lot.”

The Cutie Map Room was quite lively, for once. With the Map itself being dead quiet for the last ten years, the gang had naturally stopped gathering in that particular place. Because, really, when you got to it? Individual personalized thrones were great and all, but there were better places to get a coffee.

But not today. Today, Twilight had pulled the curtains open and called her friends to a bona fide Friendship Council Reunion, because she felt she was facing the first real problem in a long time. And, personal as it was, it sort of counted as a Friendship Problem.

“What do you think, girls?” Twilight asked, turning around to face the rest of the group. “Should I ask Sunset Shimmer to come here, or…?”

“See?” Pinkie Pie was sitting on the ground, Fluttershy, Dash, and Spike huddled around her, and they were all looking at a familiar book with absolute concentration. “Twilight said this is a viable financial plan! I can keep doing this forever!”

“Wow.” Spike’s eyes were moving side to side like crazy. “This changes everything!”

“I know!”

“Hah! Told you, Fluttershy.” Dash punched Shy’s shoulder ever-so-slightly. “You were worrying for nothing. Up top, Pinks!”

“Yeah!”

They hoof-bumped.

“Um. I don’t know.” Fluttershy was hovering above them all, rubbing the place where Dash had punched her. “Are you sure she said that? I think it looks a little wrong. As if you were actually in huge de—”

“Weeeell. She didn’t say there was anything wrong with it. Which means everything’s right!” And the hope and happiness in Pinkie Pie’s eyes could have outshined the sun itself. “Somehow, my plan of spending scandalous amounts of money on parties and never getting any of it back is working perfectly!”

And two meters away, Twilight rolled her eyes and went back to the book. “Well. That was useful.”

“Ah don’t think you should go for Pinkie or Dash if you want ethical advice, Twi.” Applejack tipped her hat at Twilight, and she managed to pull it off as charming. “Just sayin’.”

“They do lack a certain nuance, I agree,” Rarity added. “We’re much better suited for this job. Maybe Fluttershy could offer some new perspective, but…”

“She would probably just throw bunnies at me till I feel better, I know.” Twilight sighed. “Doesn’t matter, really. Now, back to my existential crisis: what do I do?”

“Ah honestly think you’ve got no crisis nor nothin’,” Applejack said. “You’re just bein’ a crybaby.”

“Applejack!”

“What?” Applejack frowned at Rarity. “Ah mean no offense! And she knows it! Right, Twi?”

Silence.

“Gmrk.”

“Atta girl. Noncommital’s always the answer. Look, you’re just not used to peace yet.” She patted Twilight on the head, motherly love in her eyes. “But y’know what? That’ll come! You just gotta relax, realize that’s actually what you want. Sure you might want to feel young and happy again, but this is what life’s all about!”

Twilight squinted. “What? Enduring the boredom and the neverending dread of knowing that the best part of your life’s over? Fooling yourself into thinking that you’re happy, just because you’re too afraid to face the truth and realize that you have nowhere else to go?”

“Eeeeyup.” Applejack nodded. “Word-for-word.”

An arched eyebrow, on Twilight’s face. “Really, now.”

“Sure! Granny Smith used to tell me that every day when I was a filly. Builds character.” AJ put on her best dashing smile. “Traditional earth pony upbringin’, but I’ll be darned if it doesn’t work. Y’all just too unicorn-y for this, Twi. Magic made your life too easy. Got used to the good stuff, didn’t you?”

“Oh, puh-lease.” Rarity glared at Applejack as she rested a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder. “Excuse us for daring to ask more of life! Twilight, dear, I think your problem is extremely serious, and your solution is particularly smart. By all means, call this Sunset Shimmer to Equestria.” She giggled. “I’ve always wanted to meet her, anyhow!”

“Ah don’t know, Twi. It doesn’t sound like the good thing to do.”

Twilight looked down. “Hmm. It does sound a little…”

“Twilight, no, let me be frank.” Rarity picked up the quill with her own magic, and nudged Twilight with it. “You don’t know what to do, I accept that. But who are you going to listen to? Me? Rarity?” She pointed at herself. “Or…” And she pointed at Applejack. “Her?”

A pause.

“Well.” Twilight nodded. “That’s a good point. Thanks, Rarity.”

“You’re welcome!”

“Say, what? What?!” Applejack slammed her hoof on the table so hard it almost broke it. “What are you talkin’ about?! Ah’ve been right more often than no other pony in this group! Ah’m always right! Only reason Ah’m not the leader’s Ah got no fancy wings on my back!”

“Exactly, Applejack,” Twilight said, as she grabbed the quill Rarity was holding for her. “But that’s the thing. You’re always right.”

And without saying another word, she hunched over the old magic diary, the book that connected Equestria and the human lands, the book she hadn’t opened in over ten years, and wrote three simple words with impeccable hoofwriting. Then, she closed it.

And she turned to Applejack.

“And,” she said, “I think I need things to be wrong for a while.”

Applejack opened her mouth, ready to reply, but the words never made it out. She was interrupted by the unmistakable sound of powerful magic happening somewhere else in the castle, and then a magical portal letting somepony pass through. The book shimmered and trembled.

Everypony stood in silence for about three seconds.

Then, they all rushed for the door.

It wasn’t easy, being young. And it only got worse with age.

Such were the thoughts of Sunset Shimmer as she made her way back to Canterlot High School. Twice she’d tried to land a place to sleep today, and twice she’d failed. It was getting harder and harder to abuse people’s hospitality lately.

And just as she thought about this, something in her backpack moved. A sudden jump, the sound of something shaking.

The journal, she realized. It hadn’t moved in ages, and now of all times…?

Inside, three simple words.

I need you.

This gave Sunset Shimmer pause.

Being an immortal was stressing. Being an immortal teenager was a nightmare. Especially when your friends didn’t let you stay at their place anymore and security guards punched you in the face. But still, she had left Equestria once, and she’d swore never to return.

Like it or not, this world, the human world, was where she belonged. You can’t stay so long in a place without forming a bond with it. Sure, she was going through a particularly rough patch, but Sunset still had some really good memories in the human lands. This world was home.

So, for a moment, she thought about closing the book and letting it be. But five words kept her from doing so.

You could have been great.

Any other day, she wouldn’t have minded it. But today, today in particular—she couldn’t help but think of her adult self, and how her house had been pretty great. Really comfy. Really different from sleeping under a bridge.

And, she thought, Twilight Sparkle was a princess in Equestria. Maybe her house would be great, too.

Twice she’d failed today. But some say third time’s a charm. She wrote two words right under Twilight’s impeccable hoofwriting and took off running.

I’m coming.

Fate, on the right.

Time, on the left.

The game has truly started. Both opponents play their cards with the skill of an avid gambler—but through it all, Fate is smiling, because it thinks it’s got it. Sunset Shimmer has crossed the portal, even though Time has pushed her away from every friend she ever had. Even though Time has destroyed what little life she had.

She had crossed the portal. She’s going to fulfill her fate. And Fate couldn’t be happier.

Until it notices that there’s a grin on Time’s face.

Without any flourish, Time puts another card on the table, and the game changes wildly. Fate’s confidence vanishes. He’s not sure if he wants to keep playing, now.

But Time sure does.

It’s already won.

Twilight Sparkle rushed into the Mirror Room, friends hot on her tail, and paused as soon as she got to the door. There was somepony else in there already.

An old friend of hers. Bleeding all over the carpet.

“Gaaagh,” Sunset Shimmer croaked. “Ow. I hit my face. Why is it always the face.”

Nopony replied.

Twilight could have said many things. She could have ran to Sunset Shimmer and hugged her, thanking her for appearing. She could have said something funny, something sentimental, something serious.

Instead, she said nothing.

Sunset Shimmer’s coat wasn’t as shiny as it once had been. Her hooves looked smaller, weaker. Her back was arched in a weird way. Her face looked like a prune stuck to an old shoe.

Because of the way Equestrian magic worked, Sunset Shimmer had been an eternal teenager in the human lands. It was probably something related to how dimensions mixed together; an impossible miracle made mundane.

Now that she was back in Equestria, that wasn’t the case anymore. And no mortal can stand the passage of Time unscratched.

“Oh my gosh!” Dash yelled. “You’re like a hundred years old!”

Second Chapter - Flower Fall
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Sunsettle For This

Second Chapter - Flower Fall

The first thought that crossed Celestia’s mind was, “I’ve been stabbed again”. The second one was, “I hope.”

She gasped quietly—it wasn’t her desire to annoy her guest—and pressed a hoof against her chest, patting it to find the source of the sharp pain. She found nothing. There was no knife, no blade, not even a needle.

She hadn’t been stabbed.

Which meant…

The air froze in her lungs as she turned around, realization hitting her like a hammer hits a nail. “LUNA!” she yelled, smashing her hooves against the table, and there was a horrible edge to her voice. “LUNA! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“Still here, Sister,” Luna said from the other side of the table. She, too, was sipping tea. “I haven’t moved.”

Celestia’s relief was like a bath of warm water. Nevertheless, her heart refused to slow down. “Are you sure?” she asked, and it was a miracle how her voice wasn’t trembling. “Are you completely sure?”

Luna checked. “Am I bleeding?”

“No.”

“Then I’m sure.”

“So there’s no need to banish you to the moon again.”

A pause.

Luna frowned. “Well,” she said. “I hope not.”

“Good. Good.” Celestia sat down again, and forced herself to calm down before speaking again. “I’m…sorry. I just felt something. In my chest.”

“And you immediately assumed I was back at murdering ponies, of course.”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation. “Because it’s not the first time I feel that kind of pain. I’m sorry if that offends you, but—”

“No, no, I was agreeing with you.” Luna patted her sister’s hoof and gave her a little smile. “I felt it too. I didn’t recognize it at first, but it’s pretty obvious in hindsight.”

Celestia nodded. The next word, they both said it at the same time.

“Heartbreak.”

“Not literal, I hope.” Celestia got up from the table and paced around the room. They were in her chambers, she wasn’t wearing her golden shoes, and the carpet was soft and fuzzy against her hooves. “I don’t think it’s healthy, for one’s heart to break just like that.”

“Hmm.” Luna raised a teacup and squinted at it. “The tea, perhaps? We were poisoned?”

This made Celestia pause. “Poison?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe. Can poison break your heart?” Celestia’s ears perked up as an idea made it through her mind. “Maybe a stab from the inside?”

Luna shrugged, and took a sip from the tea again. “Hmm.” Second sip. Gulp. “Tastes a bit like lava. Is lava poisonous?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Celestia made the teacup float to her, and inspected its contents with the inquisitive gaze of somepony who knew a lot about infusions [1]. “And it’s got no lava. Stop criticising my choice of beverages, Luna.”

[1] Scholars had noticed that most ancient texts tended to spell her name as “Princess Celestea”. Nopony was brave enough to ask if this was a mistake.

“Stop serving chamomile tea, then.”

“I don’t see any poison.” Celestia closed the lid on the teapot and floated it back to the table. Brow furrowed, she continued pacing around the room. “I don’t understand why anypony would poison us, anyway. We haven’t done anything that could cause such a reaction from our subjects. Who would do such a thing…?”

A pause.

And then, voice strangely warm, Celestia didn’t say as much as she whispered the next words. “Twilight Sparkle.”

“What?” Luna’s ears perked up. “Twilight Sparkle? I disagree, Sister. Twilight Sparkle might hate peace nowadays, but she’s one of the best ponies I’ve ever known. And she’s not dramatic enough to poison us just to fix her life.”

“No, Twilight Sparkle didn’t poison us,” Celestia said. “She’d never do it. However, I think this happened because of her.”

“Why?”

“Because only she has this much magic.”

Luna was going to reply to this, but then she realized that Celestia wasn’t looking at her. Quite the opposite—her sister was staring out the window, with an unreadable face.

Curious, she did the same, trying to look for whatever Celestia had seen.

She saw it.

“Oh.” Luna got up from the table and walked to her sister, wrapping her with a wing in an almost subconscious gesture. “I see. We should call for her help, then.”

Celestia said nothing. She just nudged her sister’s wing as a way to show her appreciation.

For the next ten minutes, they did nothing but stare at the window.

Outside, it was raining flowers.

SECOND CHAPTER:
FLOWER FALL

A crowd gathers around the most important table in the world. Fate and Time keep playing the game, but now they’re a little more careful. They have an audience.

Mother Nature is standing right next to Fate. Her husband, Father Civilization [2] is behind Time. Logic, Reason, and Faith are watching the game with interest. So are Fear, Friendship, and Dreams.

[2] A dysfunctional marriage, at best.

Fate’s already lost, and yet, it keeps dealing its cards. Because, it explains, any game worth playing is meant to be played to the very end. Who wins, and who loses, is not what’s important. What matters is the journey.

Yes, Time adds. That’s exactly what a loser would say.

The audience cheers, and Mother Nature shakes her head disapprovingly.

The Love That Could Not Be, is the name of the game, and it’s about star-crossed lovers. The sign that marks the winner is the start of a romance—when they look at each other, eye to eye, and there’s a

tink!

in the air.

That’s really important. It’s what marks the difference between romance and, say, a really good friendship. Really good friendship sounds more like

plink!

So now, the game goes on.

And in the fervor of the cards, nobody really notices there’s someone missing at the most important table in the world.

“Oh my gosh!” Dash yelled. “You’re like a hundred years old!”

Now, there are silences, and then there are Silences. A silence is what one hears after asking “is there anybody in there.” A Silence is what comes after an unknown voice says "yes".

Dash’s words were followed by a Silence, and that capital letter was felt through the room like a bulldozer is felt through a field of hippies. Half-dumbfounded, half-enraged, Sunset Shimmer felt her left eye twitch, and she turned around to face her reflection in the mirror.

A middle-aged pony returned her gaze.

White on her mane. Small wrinkles around her eyes. A darker fur. She hadn’t just raced through puberty as much as she had phased through it.

Sunset opened her mouth to say something, anything—

“BWAAAAAAAAAAAAARP.”

And then Spike burped with enough strength to fill up the air with fire, and the lingering smell of tacos. From the fire, a scroll came out, and it opened in mid-flight, revealing the simple message to everybody in the room.

Dear Twilight:

Please, come to the Castle as soon as possible. Canterlot is in danger. Equestria, as a whole, might be too. You’re our only hope.

Signed,
Princess Celestia.

And then it fell to the ground, right between Sunset and Twilight.

A pause.

“WELL THEN, THAT’S IT. GOODB—”

“NO!” Twilight was quick as lightning, grabbing Sunset and pulling her away from the mirror. “Sunset, no! You have to stay!”

“Twilight, I’ve been here for less than five seconds and I’ve already ruined both my life and the world. Great to see you, always a pleasure, best wishes, see you in hell!” [3]

[3] This was an exclusively human expression. Usually, Equestrians had a hard time grasping the more complicated parts of the human cosmovision, but you couldn’t spend so many years sleeping under a bridge without learning a couple things about the afterlife.

“NO!” Twilight just pulled harder. “No, you don’t get it! This is exactly what I—you can’t go now! I’m, I’m sure that this is hard for you, traumatic even, but—you have to stay!”

“Look.” Sunset sighed as she turned around and faced Twilight. “I get that you’re feeling guilty and all, but in all honesty, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, I think we just proved without a doubt that Equestria is worse than homelessness when it comes to me. So wipe that… huge… smile… from your face.” Sunset blinked. “Oh my gosh.”

“Uh.” Twilight blushed, looked to the side, tried to cover her face with her mane, made her best to fight the broad grin on her face. “Um, heheh, I just…”

“Oh my gosh.” Sunset made a face. “You’re actually enjoying this?”

“It’s just—I’ve been so bored!” Twilight bit her lip, still avoiding her gaze. “These last years, there’s been nothing to take care of, and everything was perfect, and then you come and immediately the world is in danger again, and your life is ruined, and I’ve been waiting for this so much, and…!”

Sunset arched an eyebrow.

“And I just… Aw, shoot.” Twilight shook her head and finally looked straight at her. Twilight’s eyes were exactly like Sunset remembered—always big, always purple, forever beautiful. “I guess I just missed you, Sunset Shimmer. A lot.”

And Sunset’s eyebrow went back down, as a smile made it to her face, too. “Aaaw. I missed you too, Twilight,” she said as she pulled her for a small hug.

She felt warm, Sunset realized. And soft. And smaller than she’d remembered—and then Twilight hugged her back, twice as strong. They nuzzled each other, a little.

Everything else became less important, all of a sudden.

“I really missed you.”

(And there was a

plink!

in the air.)

“Even if you sound a bit like a psychopath,” Sunset continued. “What’s that about wanting the world to end?”

“Eheheheh. Ahem.” Twilight’s smile was still bright like a lightbulb in a thunderdome. “So, uh. Girls! This here is Sunset Shimmer!” She scratched her neck as she took a step aside, and then pointed at Sunset as if to show her off. “Who is old now, apparently!”

Sunset squinted at Twilight here. Not an ordinary squint, either. This was an Old Lady Squint™, the kind that could make a clown confess where he hid the corpses.

The temperature in the room went down by three degrees.

“Middle-aged,” Sunset hissed.

Twilight gulped. “Uh. Sorry. Middle-aged. She’s middle-aged.”

“Good.” Sunset shot a glare at their audience, then her eyes went back to normal. Everypony immediately relaxed. “Also, hi, ponies I’ve never met. And Spike. Hi, Spike.”

“Hi, Sunset Shimmer!” The dragon waved at her.

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Dragons live for thousands of years!” Spike said. “Which means I’ll reach puberty at around seventy, if I’m lu—BWAAAAAAAAAAAAARP.”

A new scroll, this one with a slightly messier hoofwriting.

"HURRY".

“Oh. Right.” Twilight’s horn flashed as she picked up the two messages. “We should probably look at this before anything. We have to go to Canterlot, girls! And say ‘hi’ to Sunset Shimmer.”

“…Hi, Sunset Shimmer,” came the chorus of five mares.

“Yeah.” Sunset looked at Twilight. “I feel so welcome already.”

“Right. Sorry.” Applejack looked at the others, as if asking permission to speak, and then looked at Sunset. “Didn’t mean to. It’s a lot to take in, is all.”

“No, no, I get it. Don’t worry.” Sunset waved a hoof. “I’ve lived with your human selves, so it’s weird for me too. No hard feelings. Baby steps.”

“I like baby steps,” Fluttershy whispered.

“Perfect. So! This is your castle.” Sunset looked around, taking it all in. “Glassier than expected, but it looks all right.”

Twilight smiled in that way that made her eyes close. “Thanks! It takes a little to get used to it. The style really clashed with the rest of Ponyville at first, but I think it’s nice.”

“Ponyville? We’re not in Canterlot?”

“Yes. We moved the portal.”

“Hmm.” Sunset scratched her chin. “I guess it makes sense. It also explains why Celestia is sending you letters instead of just walking in. Which reminds me.” She pointed at the scrolls on the ground. “The world is ending.”

“Yeah! And you’re old now. Middle aged.” Twilight looked to her friends, then back to Sunset. “I, um. This looks pretty urgent, so do you mind if we…?”

“Take care of the world first?” Sunset shrugged. “Sure, I don’t mind. Priorities, and so on. I’m sure we can look at my problem later.”

“Oh.”

There was a pause.

“You know, Sunset Shimmer? You’re taking this entire thing surprisingly well. I have to say—I’m impressed!”

“Oh, no, no, don’t be.” Sunset smiled at her. “I’m just in shock.”

“…In shock?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, though, I’ll black out as soon as I manage to actually interiorize what’s happened. But in the meantime?” She made a ‘worry not’ kind of gesture. “We should go to Canterlot. Those letters looked important!”

Another pause.

“Y’know what?” Applejack said, elbowing Rarity. “Ah like her. She looks reasonable!”

“I—okay. Okay!” Twilight clapped her hooves, making everypony flinch. “Let’s go with this! Canterlot in danger! No time to waste!” She put a hoof over Sunset’s shoulder. “We’ll take the Friendship Express, and once we’re in there you can freak out as much as you want. Deal?”

“Sounds like one to me! Hahah.” Sunset’s right eye twitched. “Haaah, haah. Haaaaaaa—

“Then, to the Friendship Express!” Twilight headed for the door, and everypony followed. “If I remember the schedule right, it should take us exactly one hour to get there!”

“—aaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAA—

Fifty-seven minutes later, they were there.

“I have to say, that was impressive,” Sunset said as they walked the stairs up to Canterlot Castle. “Really good service. And the conductor was surprisingly nice about my freakout.”

“It’s the good things about utopias, really.” Twilight’s chest was swollen with that rare pride that comes when one compliments your homeland. “One can really go on about the everlasting sense of dread they bring, but public transportation is a wonder!”

“Do you think the conductor will grow new teeth soon?”

“Gosh, I hope so.”

“Okay.” A few steps behind them, Rainbow Dash elbowed Applejack and Fluttershy in quick succession. “Can’t hold it anymore. Please tell me I’m not the only one bothered by Sunset Shimmer here?”

“Nope.” Applejack raised a hoof, and Dash promptly bumped it. “Same’ere. The way she walks, right?”

“Oh, you know it.”

“Um.” Fluttershy gave them A Look. “I don’t think that’s a nice thing to say. Sunset Shimmer has been really polite so far, and—”

“Yeah, but we’re not talking about that, Shy.” Dash nodded at Sunset’s rear. “C’mon. Look at her butt.”

Silence.

“Um.”

“No, really. Have a good look. I’m telling you.”

“Um.”

“She’s got a point, Fluttershy,” AJ said. “Ah know you want to judge Dash—we all do—but listen to her. Look at that butt.”

Awkward frown in her face, Fluttershy gave in. She gave Sunset’s derriére a good, hard look.

There was a pause.

Then, the frown went away. “Huh. She…”

“She walks like a mom.” Dash squinted, and her mouth became a thin, hard line. “And yet it’s not mom enough. I don’t know! There’s something in like, her posture? That bugs me a lot.”

“Yeah,” Fluttershy muttered. “What is she doing with her hips, exactly?”

“She’s got that swingin’,” Applejack added. “The one when you’re a, whatsitcalled? Rarity?” Applejack waved at their white friend—lagging yet further behind—then pointed at Sunset. “Puma? Cheetah?”

“Cougar, dear!”

“Atta girl! Cougar.” Applejack turned to Fluttershy and Dash once more. “She’s one of them cougars, it’s what she is.”

Fluttershy blinked. “A what? Like the animal?”

“No, like a mom.” A pause. Applejack scratched her neck. “But… the kind of mom who wears tight pants, y’know?”

“Oh. Oooooooh.” Fluttershy smiled and nodded at her, then looked at Sunset again. “Well, she does swing her hips a lot. And I guess tight pants would suit her, uh, figure?”

“Yeah, she’s got a nice ass,” Dash said.

Silence.

Everypony looked at her.

Dash’s expression didn’t change. “I mean, it bothers me, sure, but I’d still t—”

“Aaaaand they can hear us from there,” Applejack interrupted, her voice perfectly flat. “You done goofed up, Dash.”

“What?” Dash frowned, and looked at AJ. “How can you say that?”

“‘Cause Twi’s on fire.” AJ pointed. “Literally.”

“What? What do you mean she’s on—OH MY GOSH.”

“RAINBOW DASH!”

“I’M SO SORRY!”

“SORRY IS NOT GOING TO CUT IT!”

“THEN I’M BLAMING RARITY!”

“WHAT.”

“RARITY!”

“YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.”

“Hey, if it is of any consolation, I took it all as a compliment,” Sunset said. Looking at her face, one could have believed there was the hint of a lazy smile in it. “I mean, I guess that’s a silver lining, even if I’m middle—oh?”

The words died in her mouth.

A small flower had landed on her muzzle.

What followed was the kind of scene that, had this been a more cinematic universe, would have made it to the trailer. The music would have led to a halt, and a single high note from a lonely violin would have lingered in the background.

Sunset, Twilight, Dash, AJ, and Shy, perfectly synchronized, stared at the flower on Sunset’s nuzzle. It was small and white, looked perfectly normal at first glance, but there was something off about it.

They looked up. And what they saw—

“Wait, you notice this now?” Spike asked. “It’s been raining flowers since we got to Canterlot! How didn’t you notice this earlier?”

“I’ve been trying to catch them with my mouth!” Pinkie said, spewing petals as she spoke. “They’re pretty tasty! Taste a bit like lava.”

“Maybe they’re related to chamomile?” Shy asked.

“Probably!”

“Hey, you can’t blame us!” Dash said, making a huff. “We were distracted. Talking important business, you know?”

“Yes, we know. But we didn’t think you’d be so enthralled by that topic that you wouldn’t notice the flowers.” Rarity picked one from the ground—a small, white-pinkish thing—and put it on Fluttershy’s mane. Fluttershy made a happy noise in return. “Isn’t this why Princess Celestia asked us to come?”

Twilight picked another flower and looked at it closely. It was bigger than the one Rarity had chose, but still just an ordinary flower. She didn’t know the particular species.

She looked up again. The flowers were coming out of apparently nowhere—there were no clouds in the sky. They just floated down, each one a different size, a different shade of white pink.

Twilight had seen this before.

Flower Fall.

“Yes.” Twilight also put the flower on Fluttershy’s mane. Fluttershy made yet another happy noise. “This is why Princess Celestia asked us to come. If this is what I think it is?” The grin on her face could only be described as shameless at this point. “It’s going to be huge!”

“So.” Spike crossed his arms and looked at Dash as they went on again. “I don’t get it. What were you talking about, that was so important you didn’t notice the flowers?”

“My butt,” Sunset said without turning around.

Spike’s frown disappeared. “Oh.”

Some thoughts crossed his mind. He took a peek, and some more thoughts crossed his mind. Really interesting thoughts, if he was one to say. Both informative and imaginative.

“…Well, that makes sense,” he said once he was done. “Have you ever thought of wearing tight pants? They would suit you.”

They arrived at the door shortly afterwards.

And in the most important table in the world, the crowd gasps.

It’s a tricky move, the one Fate just pulled off. To understand it, once again we must assume we live in a more cinematic universe—but this time, Reality, who’s really interested in the game, will help with that.

So we rewind, and the camera zooms in, as the footage slows down so we can catch all the little details…

Some say age is all in the mind. This is not entirely true.

Sunset Shimmer had spent so much time as a teenager that she had a little bit of trouble wrapping her head around the fact that crossing over to see Twilight had brought her reasonably close to her twilight years. [4] This, however, was slightly undermined by the fact that she had also changed bodies.

[4] This was the kind of dumb pun waiting to happen that made one resent reality itself. Sunset made a mental note of punching whoever dared to make it.

The mind is flexible, but not flexible enough. Sunset wasn’t feeling the shock of her sudden age gap, plain and simple because she was still getting used to not having thumbs again. Sure, rationally she knew that she was different, but rationally she’d also known having an affair with Celestia’s desk had been a bad idea. And look where she was.

So she was, in her particular way, dealing with it. Flower Fall was a nice distraction. With the world ending like that—because it was probably that, it was always that—it was easy to not think about important stuff.

Then, the butt talk happened.

If character is what we are in the dark, personality is what we do with flattery. Only after Spike the dragon expressed his approval on Sunset’s derriére [5] did her emotions really catch up with her body.

[5] And high-fived Rainbow Dash.

She was old now.

Holy feathers. She was old. She was mature.

And she was hot.

Sunset Shimmer had always been attractive—it was easy to tell when every man went “meow” upon your sight—but, her being a teenager, it had been a really awkward attractive. “Shouldn’t-be-this-attractive” kind of attractive.

Now, though? Maybe now things had changed.

So when they approached the doors, Sunset Shimmer looked at the Royal Guards. Big, buff, white stallions. Good-looking stallions.

They looked at her.

And Sunset Shimmer said the two most powerful words a mare can muster. “Hello, handsome.”

(And there was a

bang!

in the air.)

“Twilight Sparkle. Once again, Equestria is threatened. Once again, only you can save it.” Princess Celestia sat atop her throne, her voice grave, her frame the very definition of elegance. “And once again, I’m going to ask you to stop giggling.”

“Tee hee hee.”

Celestia frowned.

The Throne Room hadn’t been empty when Twilight and friends arrived, but the moment they walked in, the Royal Guards promptly left, to make sure Celestia could enjoy some privacy.[6] Through the windows, they could see flowers falling to the ground. The air smelled sweet. It was surprisingly unnerving.

[6] This was standard procedure, no matter who was the one walking in the Throne Room. Canterlot’s idea of “security” was the main reason why Celestia and Luna were so familiar with the feeling of being stabbed.

“We are glad to see you here.” Luna was sitting beside her sister, in the space where one would expect a second throne to be. “We need your help, more than ever.” And her eyes looked dark and full of stars. “Especially yours, Fluttershy.”

A pause.

Shy blinked, and then took a step back. “What? M-me? You need me?”

“Indeed,” Luna said. “Come here. I need to put this flower down.”

“…So what’s goin’ on, Princess?” Applejack asked as Fluttershy made a happy sound in the background. “Is it the flowers? It’s the flowers, right?”

“Yes, Applejack. What Canterlot is going through at the moment is named Flower Fall,” Celestia said. “A rain of flowers. A drift in time and space, that can destroy everything we hold—”

“Tee hee hee.”

A pause.

Celestia took a deep breath. “That can destroy everything we hold dear,” she continued.

“What, just like that?” Dash looked at the window, shifty eyes on, then at Celestia. “But they’re just flowers, right?”

“Um. Maybe they’re poisonous?” Fluttershy fluttered back to her friends and landed right behind Dash. “That would be bad. Some animals would eat them on sight.”

“Yeah!” Pinkie said. “I ate a bunch, too!”

“Well, Fluttershy, here’s hoping they aren’t poisonous,” Rarity said. “That would do terrible things to your mane.”

“And I ate a bunch, too!”

“They are not poisonous,” Celestia said. “In fact, they are nothing out of the ordinary. The problem, you see, is not the flowers. They’re but another symptom of the actual problem, the one that—”

“Tee hee hee.”

“Oh, for—Please, Twilight.” Celestia’s eyes were full of grief as she spoke. “Please don’t do this to me.”

“Sister.” Luna tapped Celestia’s shoulder. “There’s no reason to fret. We both knew Twilight Sparkle would be thrilled at the news.”

“Yes, but she was my personal student for many years. This is a personal failure.”

“Tee hee hee. Heeeh. Ahem.” Twilight shook her head, soft pink appearing on her cheeks. “Sorry. I’ll try to control myself. I just… I can’t be the only one who’s excited!” She looked at her friends. “Right, girls? Here again, discussing how to save the world with the Princess, everypony is about to die… Doesn’t it take you back?”

Five seconds passed.

“Rrrrright. So. What’s the deal with the flowers, then?” Dash looked outside the window. In this zone of the castle, the flowers were the size of a head of lettuce. “Who brought them here?”

“…Flower Fall,” Twilight said. If she was hurt, she didn’t let it show. “Just like the Princess said, what Canterlot is experiencing is called ‘Flower Fall’. I’ve seen it before, but never to such a scale.”

Celestia shook her head, composed herself, and continued the speech. “Flower Fall is caused by magical accidents, misused power,” she said. “Magic is used to change reality, but when enough energy is applied, the very fabric of space and time rips… And flowers fall from the tear. Hence, the name.”

“The flowers aren’t dangerous. The rip in the space-time continuum, however, is.” Luna shook her head. “The effects are subtle, but they’re there. Time warps onto itself, bringing the past to the present. At first, it’s hard to see, but if we wait enough…”

She looked at Celestia.

Celestia nodded.

“…Then, Reality itself might be destroyed,” Luna finished.

And to welcome these words, Twilight and friends offered nothing but silence. Understanding. Gravity. Maybe a little bit of fear. This was a music they’d all danced to before, but that didn’t make it less ominous.

Then Dash leaned close to Pinkie. “Um,” she whispered. “Time-space what?”

“Continuum!” Pinkie hushed back.

“What the heck is that?”

“Oh, don’t you know?” Pinkie rested her front leg over Dash’s shoulders. “Time and space are the same thing, silly!”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah! That’s why things can be ‘five minutes away’. It’s common sense!”

“Oh. Oooooh.” Dash nodded in understanding. “Okay, I get it. Thanks. Alright, everypony!” She raised her voice. “We have to fix this! What do we shoot?”

“Right. You took the words right out of my mouth, dear,” Rarity said. “What monster caused this?”

Twilight blinked, then frowned. “Um.”

“Do you think it might be a dragon? Ah hope it’s a dragon,” Applejack said. “Ah’ve always wanted to shoot a dragon. Um, no offense, Spike.”

“No, no. None taken.” Spike gave her the fingerguns. “I get you. Dragons are cool.”

“‘Specially when you get to shoot’em!”

“No, that’s—we can’t shoot a dragon,” Twilight said. “We are not shooting a dragon.”

“Thank goodness,” Fluttershy said. “I wouldn’t be able to stand that.” She gave it a little bit of thought. “Maybe I can shoot a wyvern, if it’s being mean enough? But never a dragon.”

“What about griffons?” Pinkie said. “I have griffon friends. We could shoot them! I would like that!”

“Hmm. Yes, I think I could settle for a griffon.” Fluttershy looked at Twilight. “We can shoot a griffon.”

“Well then!” Dash said. “Fluttershy has spoken!”

Twilight frowned. “Girls.”

“Where’s that griffon we’re going to shoot?”

“Girls. We’re not shooting any griffon.”

“But Fluttershy said we could!”

“Yes, but just like usual, what Fluttershy said doesn’t matter.” Twilight looked at Shy. “Sorry. No offense.”

“None taken,” Fluttershy said. “It’s a reasonable argument.”

“Well, that’s just preposterous,” Rarity said, and she was standing next to Shy as she spoke. “What are we shooting then, Twilight?”

“Nothing. We’re shooting nothing.”

Everypony looked at Twilight, confusion in their faces.

“Because there’s nothing to shoot,” Twilight explained. “There’s no monster. It’s just a rip in time and space.”

Again, a crowd of dumbfounded eyes stared at Twilight. If one squinted, it was possible to almost see an interrogation sign floating on top of each and every head.

Then, Dash broke the silence. “Ooookay. I think I get it.”

“You do? Good! See, Flower Fall is—”

“We’re shooting at space."

“Okay, you know what? This is where this conversation ends.” Twilight looked at Celestia. “Princess, do we have any clue of what caused Flower Fall?”

“We hoped you would answer that question, I’m afraid.” Luna shook her head. “Have you done anything that might have brought such an immense amount of magic into Equestria?”

“Um.” Fluttershy spoke here, and everypony turned to her. “Well,” she said. “Maybe it was Sunset Shimmer?”

Celestia looked at Twilight at this. Twilight just waved a hoof. “No, that alone is not enough to cause this,” she said. “Sure, the mirror is highly magical, but still well within the boundaries reality can endure. Sunset Shimmer could only have caused this if she had…”

A pause.

“Wait a moment.” Twilight looked around. “Where’s Sunset Shimmer?”

BLAM!

The doors that led to the Throne Room were big, and extremely heavy. Only a really powerful kick—or a burst of well-directed magic—could open them hard enough for them to slam. And when they did, the sound echoed through the room like thunder.

This meant that everypony turned around, to see which herculean figure had managed such a feat… But there was none. It was just Sunset Shimmer, rushing into the room, panting slightly. Her mane was a mess, and her fur was slightly ruffled. “Here!” she said. “I’m here! Right behind you!”

“Sunset?” Twilight asked. “What…?”

“Sorry!” Sunset smiled at her. “Sorry. I got, ahah, distracted. Out there. Doesn’t matter. What are we talking about?”

Celestia’s face was completely neutral. “Sunset Shimmer,” she said. “It’s been a long time.”

Sunset looked back. Her face, too, was completely neutral. “Oh. Hi, Princess Celestia.” Then, back at Twilight. “Flowers? Are you talking flowers?”

“…Yes. Yes, we are. Um.” She glanced at Luna, who shrugged. Then, she faced Celestia. “Princess, do you need some time alone, or…?”

“That won’t be needed, Twilight Sparkle.” A forced smile. “But thanks.”

“We were arguin’ if you’re the reason why Equestria is in danger,” Applejack said, tipping her hat to Sunset. “Which would mean we gotta shoot you.”

Sunset took the words like a lady. Her face barely moved. “Oh. Okay.”

“But we can’t shoot her!” Pinkie said. “Twilight said it’s space’s fault!”

“But we can compromise, right?” AJ asked. “Ah mean, if it’s been her…”

“Hmm.” Spike was crossing his arms, concentration all over his face. “A compromise? Maybe if we… I’ve got an idea. We can take Sunset, right? And then we shoot her into sp—”

“Aaaand here’s when we all shut up and stop talking.” Twilight’s horn flashed, and Spike’s mouth shut itself. “Thaaank you.” She patted his head. “Now! As I said, crossing dimensions alone is not enough to tear the fabric of space and time. For this amount of flowers, Sunset would have needed much more magic.”

“…Uh-huh. How much magic, exactly?” Sunset asked.

Something in her tone made everypony pause and look at her.

It was Celestia who broke the silence. “Sunset Shimmer,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “Do you have anything you need to tell us?”

“Weeeeell.” Sunset gave them a half-assed smile. “I might have, uh, misused the Magic of Friendship a bit, lately. Ponying up and such, right?”

“Ponying up?” Luna looked at Twilight. “What?”

“Turning into a pony. More or less like using the Elements,” Twilight said. “Sunset, what do you mean, ‘misusing’? How often did you pony up?”

“On average?”

“Yes.”

“Two to five times a day, for the last twelve years or so.”

Now, there are silences, and then there are Silences. A silence comes when a kid falls asleep. A Silence comes when she never wakes up.

What followed Sunset’s statement was, undoubtedly, a Silence.

“Gosh. This is going to do wonders for our future friendship,” Sunset muttered. “Okay, so, you need to understand—my life wasn’t exactly easy back there, right? I had to do some, uh, creative things to survive. You see…”

And she started to talk.

Thirty minutes later, she was done. Everypony was noticeably paler, except for Fluttershy, who was straight out unconscious. Applejack had been forced to lean on Dash for support, and she was pressing her hat against her chest. Pinkie’s lower lip was trembling. Luna had excused herself to her chambers long ago.

“…and that was how I fed myself for the last couple months,” Sunset finished. “Not pretty, but one gets used to everything.”

In the background, Rarity broke down in tears.

“So.” Another look around, and Sunset tapped her hoof on the floor. “Would that be enough to make flowers rain, or…?”

“…Yes. Yes, it would.” Twilight gulped, and swept the sweat away from her forehead. “It definitely, uh, would. Oh, Sunset Shimmer…”

“Hey, at least that took the smile out of your face.” Sunset winked at Twilight. “You were being a little creepy earlier!”

“Right. Me. I’m the creepy one.”

“Details aside,” Celestia said, “that alone would be indeed enough to tear the fabric of space and time. Sunset Shimmer, your presence alone puts the entirety of Equestria in danger.”

“Hmm.” Sunset elbowed Twilight. “Called it.”

“Okay.” Dash took a deep breath, and her voice was still trembling a little. “Ahem. Okay. So what do we do?”

“Well, I have to say, the solution is easier than expected.” And Celestia’s voice was as warm as ever, which made it all the more surreal when she kept talking. “Sunset Shimmer’s sheer inner magic is enough to cause the tear, and her presence will do nothing but worsen the situation. But time and space can fix themselves if the pressure disappears.”

Twilight’s ears went flat against her head. “Which means, the fastest way to fix this…”

“…Is to kick Sunset Shimmer back to the human dimension,” Celestia finished.

Hours passed.

Under the moonlight, the flowers looked like snow. Once Spike went to bed—in his own room; the dragon now demanded privacy—Twilight was left alone in her old studio.

“Twilight? Are you awake?”

Or maybe not.

“Sunset Shimmer.” Twilight turned her attention away from the books sprawled all over her desk and looked at her friend, who was still waiting by the door, floating a tray with a cup of tea, a sandwich, and some sweets. “What are you doing here?”

“Brought you something.” Sunset nodded towards the tray. “I saw you didn’t exactly eat a lot when we had dinner, and I thought you might be hungry. Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, no! Not really.” Twilight rubbed her eyes and waved Sunset to enter, then moved a chair so she could sit right next to her. “And I am a little hungry. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Sunset sat down with a groan, then rested her hooves under her chin. “So. What a day, huh?”

“You name it,” Twilight said with a chuckle. “We barely had time to breathe, did we? Or catch up.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here.”

“True.” A deep breath. “You never asked me why I wanted you to come.”

“You never asked me why I came.”

Twilight grabbed one of the sandwiches and took a bite. “True.”

A lot has been said about silence, and Silence, but what followed was neither of them. It was, to put it simply, a moment of quiet. It wasn’t awkward, as much as it was contemplative. Reuniting with an old friend like this, they both knew, would have been harder if they hadn’t had the perfect topic to break the ice.

“So,” Sunset said, resting her back on the seat and eyeing the books Twilight had been reading. “Are we all going to die?”

“That’s what I’m trying to discover!” Twilight said after swallowing. “I’ve seen many Flower Falls over the years, but never to this degree. Time folds onto itself, but what does that mean in this case?” She pointed at her desk, and all the books on it. “I need to look into it.”

“Hmm.” Sunset poked a scroll. It almost fell to the ground. “Reading, huh? Can’t stand it. Never liked books, myself. Too complicated. In my time, things were simpler.”

This almost made Twilight choke. “Wait, what?”

“Books. Never trusted them.” Sunset shook her head. “You know how we taught kids in my days? Just, teacher speaking, students listening. Not having somepony to tell you the things you need to learn? Nah. Sooner or later you will all realize it’s a bad idea, and you heard it from me first.”

A blink. “Wow. Really? That’s—”

“What?”

“No, just…”

“You’re smiling.” Sunset smirked back. “What? Was it funny, what I said?”

The mask cracked, and Twilight gave out a hearty laugh. “A little!” she admitted, wiping off a tear. “It’s just… The way you said that, it really made you sound like an old—like a middle-aged pony, I meant! Yikes!” Twilight had to look away. “Sorry! Please, stop squinting like that!”

Two seconds later, Sunset stopped.

“Oof. Thanks.” Twilight shook her head, and put the half-eaten sandwich down. “Boy, I could feel the trademark in that one.”

“I am not an old pony.”

“No, no. You aren’t.” Twilight shook her head. “Oof. Were you referring to Celestia?”

Sunset’s ears twitched up. “Hm?”

“When you said a teacher taught you lessons. Was that Celestia?”

Sunset’s ears went down again. “Yeah, of course,” she said. “She used to be my teacher before I went mad with power and crossed the mirror and all that.” Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “But I think I’d like it better if we didn’t talk about this.”

It didn’t escape to Twilight how awkward that last part had sounded. “You don’t want to be reminded of that time, then? Is it because of what you had to go through at Canterlot High School, or because of Celestia?”

Sunset relaxed visibly. “A little bit of both, I guess? I don’t mind Celestia.”

“You two were a little uncomfortable earlier today,” Twilight continued. Her voice had an edge, at this point. “Maybe you don’t know how to act around each other? How to approach everything that happened?”

“Uh. No. I just don’t really care for—”

“But she was your teacher! Surely you want to go back to that relationship? Oh, maybe I should help you making amends with her!”

Sunset arched an eyebrow. “Twilight.”

“After all, it might be hard forgiving others, or forgiving yourself, especially when it’s been a long time since you argued! Old friendships are precious, but that’s what makes them hard to fix!”

“Twilight. Hey, Twilight.”

“I know just what to do! Starlight Glimmer—student of mine, you have to meet her at some point, I’m sure you’ll like each other—was in exactly the same position. And it all worked out in the end! You just have to…”

“Twilight.” Sunset poked her on the side of the head. “Hey.”

“Yes?"

“You’re just trying to get a Friendship Problem out of this, aren’t you.”

“Wha—me?” Twilight pressed a hoof against her chest, seemingly offended. “Looking for a problem? Pfft. No.”

“You so are.”

“I’m not! I just want you to fix your past relationship with Celestia! Oh, it’ll be such a heartfelt reunion. We have to do that as soon as possible! Especially if you’re going to stay in Equestria!”

And with those eight words, the atmosphere in the room changed immediately.

Twilight let it drop casually, but she could see Sunset relaxing her shoulders after this. She’d been waiting for that. After everything Celestia had said, after everything Sunset had told them about her life in Canterlot High School, after opening up like that…

She’d been genuinely scared, thinking that they were going to kick her out of Equestria, just to save the world. Twilight’s words had taken a weight off her shoulders.

Twilight couldn’t help but smile to herself at this. Some things never changed, after all. Despite this new old age of hers, Sunset was still as easy to read as ever.

Despite this new old age of hers, Sunset still found Twilight as easy to fool as ever. Some things never changed, after all.

A conversation was just like a game of chess, when you got to it. Think of a strategy, improvise when it’s needed, make the right moves, and you get a checkmate. Of course, she was also friends with Twilight and all that—but once you were a true villain, you always knew how to think like one.

“Right,” Sunset said. “Well, if you say so. I don’t think I need to talk with another Celestia, really.”

“‘Another’ Celestia?”

Sunset nodded. She wondered if getting the cup of tea she’d got for Twilight would be seen as rude. “The principal. She was almost the only one who kept in touch with me, really.”

“So the rest of the girls…?”

“You know that already. We just sort of drifted apart as the years went by. Then there was that, and after that things were never the same.”

“That?”

Sunset shot her half a smile. “Would you believe me if I said you don’t want to know?”

Twilight seemed to think about this for a second or two, then she conceded the point.”Yeah,” she said. Another Friendship Problem to the list, probably. “Was it hard?” Twilight asked then. “To say goodbye, and…?”

“Pffft. No.” Sunset waved a hoof. “It was actually rather easy. And to be completely honest, I should have crossed that portal sooner. I like it in here.” She patted the desk. “Warm in winter, cool in summer, I’ve got a bed. Nobody’s squatting.”

“Sorry?”

“Never mind. So yeah.” She shrugged. “I’m glad you asked me to come, really. It was for the best.”

“Oh.” Twilight now did go and took a sip from the cup. So much for wish fulfillment, Sunset thought. “Well, that’s good. You still didn’t ask me why I sent you that note.”

“I don’t really need to. I know already.”

This made Twilight blink. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s not that weird. In fact, it’s pretty common in the human world, especially among males. I’ve seen it a thousand times.” Sunset shrugged. “So I wouldn’t say it’s strange enough for me to demand explanations or anything.”

“…Wow.” Twilight took another sip, brow furrowed. “And… And what do they do, when they feel like me?”

“They buy a sports car.”

“Oh.”

“As I said, it’s really common.” Sunset clapped once after saying this, making Twilight flinch. “But let’s not talk about this! Tell what’s changed all these years, Twilight Sparkle. Are you still single? Any good stallion in your life?”

“What?” Twilight made a face. “Um. No, not really. No changes there.”

“Tsk, tsk.” Sunset shook her head and patted Twilight on the hoof. “That won’t do, young lady, that won’t do. You need to settle down, find a nice stallion. Have some children!”

Awkward smile. “I, eheh, I don’t think I’m one to settle down with nice stallions, Sunset. But, um, thanks.”

“Now, how can you say that? Your poor mother. I’m sure she’d want you to fill that big castle of yours with lil’ footsteps.” Sunset smiled, and patted that hoof again. “You’re going to rot away otherwise, girl!”

Twilight groaned. “Yes, yes, I know. I’ve heard this one before. Let me guess: next you’ll say I might become a crazy—”

“Crazy cat lady! Exactly!” Sunset pointed at Twilight to add more impact to her words, and she just pushed the hoof away from her face. “Face as pretty as yours, what a waste. And you’re already halfway there!”

“What? I don’t even own a cat!”

“You have Spike! Who is pretty much the same thing.” Sunset stopped, and looked around. “Does he still sleep in a small nest on the ground?”

“Discipline is important for kids his age.”

“True, I guess. But Spike aside, you,” and here she pointed again, “need to get your priorities straight, Twilight Sparkle.”

“I don’t really have time to date.”

“Really now? Because from what I heard, it’s more like the opposite. Why am I here again? Because you were so busy, right?”

Twilight set the cup down and glared at Sunset. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Ponyville’s a nice town. I’m sure there are good ponies in it. Of course, if you’d prefer somepony from Canterlot, that would be good, too.” Sunset crossed her arms and nodded to herself. “Why, some of the Guards—”

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” Twilight shook her head with enough energy to generate a small current of air, like a really inefficient air fan. “No Royal Guards. That’s the first rule, Sunset.”

“No Royal Guards? Why?”

“Because my brother was one, and I’ve seen how they look at me now that I’m a Princess, and it’s weird.” Twilight’s ears went down as she blushed slightly. “And I told you—I’m not one for nice stallions.”

Sunset arched an eyebrow. “You like the bad boys, then? It doesn’t fit your image.”

“…No, that’s not the point I’m trying to—seriously, can we not talk about my love life, please?” She saw Sunset’s expression. “Or disappointing lack of it, if that’s the same for you? Trying to save the world here. We could talk about that. Or about your life in Equestria. Or about you being middle aged.”

Sunset sighed. “Let’s save that one for tomorrow, please? I’m tired.”

“Wait.” Twilight cocked her head to the side. “You know why you turned old?”

“You mean you don’t?”

“I—”

“Okay, no. That only makes it worse. Geez” Sunset shook her head. “Too depressing. Tomorrow.”

“Um.”

“I insist.” Sunset’s words were final. “And about what I’m going to do from now on… Well, Twilight, you wanted my help. Probably to make your life more interesting.” She looked out the window, at the flowers. “It sure worked, but this can’t be what you had in mind, right?”

Twilight followed Sunset’s gaze. “No, no. Of course not. I just thought that I’d…”

“Help me get my stuff together? Get some Friendship Problems out of me?” Sunset didn’t sound offended here; she spoke matter-of-factly. “Well, I think I got you covered already, judging by the conversation. And I’ll probably get some more along the way, because I’m a middle-aged pony with the mind of a teenager.”

Twilight chuckled. “I guess,” she said, “I just… wanted to help you.”

“And I can’t thank you enough for it,” Sunset said, getting up from the chair and nuzzling Twilight’s cheek. Twilight nuzzled back. “Really. My life is kind of a mess.”

“Which is exactly what I need right now,” Twilight said. “A mess. We compliment each other, don’t we?”

“That’s the magic of friendship!” Sunset said, smiling brightly. “And you can start immediately, of course. I didn’t lie when I said my life is a mess.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I left Equestria long ago,” Sunset said. “I have pretty much nothing in here. Friends, family, a home… All gone.” She kept her tone perfectly neutral. No hint of sadness in her voice. “But I still came when you asked for it, because that’s what friendship means. Even if that means being middle aged.”

Twilight pretty much melted at this. Her eyes teared up a little, her ears went flat against her face, her wings fluttered. “Oh, Sunset,” she said, pressing her hooves against her chest. “That is so…”

And as Twilight’s voice cracked, Sunset realized it was time to bet it all.

You could have been great. Those words burned in Sunset’s mind. It wasn’t a really bad burn, but it stung nonetheless, and even middle aged ponies have their pride.

She didn’t want to just avoid being kicked back to the human dimension. Maybe it was too late to be great…

“And that,” Sunset interrupted, “is the reason why I believe you have the moral obligation to let me crash at your place for a while.”

…but that didn’t mean she couldn’t live a great life.

Twilight’s eyes went wide. “Oh, Sunset…” she repeated.

A conversation was just like a game of chess, when you got to it. Think of a strategy. Improvise when it’s needed. Make the right moves.

“Of course!” Twilight said, getting up and nuzzling Sunset’s cheek. “Of course you can stay with me. As long as you want. You’ve made my life a million times better just by coming here, how could I say no?”

And you get a checkmate.

Plink!

And in the most important table in the world, Fate dons a cocky smile and lays its last card on the table, earning a roaring applause from the audience. Flowers Fall, and it hurts Time. A physical wound in its cheek.

The tables have turned. Fate’s strategy is finally revealed.

The sign that marks the winner is the start of a romance—when they look at each other, eye to eye, and there’s a

tink!

in the air. The Love That Could Not Be, is the name of the game, and it’s about star-crossed lovers. But there’s somebody missing at the most important table in the world.

Fate wants to bring them together, but there’s a detail they never thought about.

At no point did Love sit with them to play.

Author's Note

To be continued.

Third Chapter - You're Not That Cute
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Sunsettle For This

Third Chapter - You're Not That Cute

On the third day of the end of the world, Sunset Shimmer woke up to an ancient beast staring her down.

“Good morning, Sunset Shimmer,” Princess Luna said, three centimeters away from her face. “I’ve been watching you while you sleep.” Then, a small pause, as if she was thinking of something to add. “But do not worry,” she said. “I do not wish to murder ponies any longer. Those days are long past.”

And that’s when Sunset Shimmer started screaming.

“Oh. Well, Sunset Shimmer, I did not wish to startle you. I merely—”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—”

“Please, stop screaming.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—.”

If Princess Luna had ever learned something, it was that sometimes you had to give up. So she clicked her tongue. “Well then,” she said, and as her horn started glowing, her eyes became white. “I wanted to keep this matter private, but you’re forcing my hoof here, Sunset Shimmer. I hope you forgive me. You still refuse to reason with me?”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—.”

Luna seemed to become bigger, darker. Greater. “Thought so,” she said.

Then, there was a flash of light.

And Sunset Shimmer woke up.

“Sunset Shimmer,” Luna said, standing by her side, normal-sized once more. “I do not wish to harm you. What you went through was merely an illusion. A dream, conjured by me. I hope that this time, you maintain your calm long enough for me to—”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—.”

“Okay. Okay, we’re just doing this again, are we.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.”

“Sigh. Well then!”

There was a flash of light.

And Sunset Shimmer woke up.

“Sunset Shimmer,” Luna said, standing by her side. “I am holding a pillow against your face because you refuse to stop screaming. But I do not wish to harm you.”

“MMMMFGGGGGG. FFFGMG MGF. MMMFFFFFFFFFHGGG.”

“Yes. However,” and here Luna closed her eyes and adopted the tone of a teacher talking with a bratty kid, “I think you’ll agree with me when I say this was a necessary measure. As long as you promise to listen to what I have to say, I can guarantee you will suffer no harm, suffocation notwithstanding.”

“MMMMFGGMMFFGGGMFGGGG.”

“Good! Now, I’m going to take the pillow off, and you just have to—”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—MMMMFGGGGGG.”

“Well then, Sunset Shimmer. Here I am, holding a pillow against your face once more. This is really not an optimal way to hold a conversation. I am not letting you talk until you calm down.”

And that’s why Sunset Shimmer lost consciousness.

And then she woke up.

“I have all the time in the world, and a great amount of pillows,” Luna said, sitting by Sunset’s side, her perfectly beautiful face twisted somewhat by annoyance. “Please don’t test my patience anymore, Sunset Shimmer. There’s no reason to scream.”

Good thing about being knocked out: it gave you peace of mind. Now that the initial surprise and following terror was gone, Sunset found that she was able to formulate coherent thoughts again. “AAA—”

Pillow up. “Really, now.”

“AAAAAaaaah. Ahem.” Sunset coughed, then covered her chest with the blanket. “Um. Okay. No yelling. Sorry.”

And Luna visibly relaxed, and shot her a smile. “Good,” she said.

Pillow down.

It was still early. The world was still quiet, not fully waken up. Petals rained outside, and they looked almost red in the light of dawn. The birds in the Royal Garden were asleep. Sunset’s bed was warm and comfortable, the sheets soft against her fur. The door had been locked from the inside, and the window couldn’t be opened.

Which, come to think of, made it all the more unnerving that Princess Luna had been watching Sunset sleep.

“I apologize for startling you, once more,” Luna said, not moving an inch. She was blocking the door, Sunset noticed. There was no way out the room without getting past the Princess. “I’m just here to send you a message.”

Well, that was reassuring. “Sounds important,” Sunset admitted. “What is it?”

“Ahem.” Luna took a deep breath, and spoke with something that really sounded like an Important Voice. “My sister can not join you for lunch today, as she’s sadly too busy. She apologizes, and offers to share a dinner with you instead.”

Sunset needed a moment to take in everything Luna had said.

“Uh,” she eventually muttered. “Your sister?”

“Yes.”

“Princess Celestia?”

“Yes.” Luna nodded. “Twilight Sparkle sent us your invitation, and so, my sister thought about sending me to forward you hers. She’ll be waiting at the Dining Hall, tonight, at nine o’clock. Twilight Sparkle is also invited, of course”

Sunset blinked. “Okay,” she said. “Okay, I see what’s happening. There’s been a misunderstanding here. See, I never—”

But Luna wasn’t listening. She just shot a brilliant smile. “That’s all. Good morning, Sunset Shimmer.”

“Look, I don’t really want to—wait, what do you mean, ‘good morning’?”

A flash of light.

And Sunset Shimmer woke up.

THIRD CHAPTER:
YOU’RE NOT THAT CUTE

Back at the most important table in the world, the audience doesn’t know how to feel. Fate sits on the right; Time, on the left.

Star-crossed lovers, is the name of the game, and it’s about romance. The game ends when they get together, and Fate is playing wonderfully.

But that’s the thing.

Time doesn’t seem to mind.

Because, and Time knows this, there are only two ways to play the game. Fate is, admittedly, a master of the bait-and-switch. Fate shows Love is not in the game, Fate brings Sunset back to Equestria, Fate makes Flowers Fall.

And what does Time have, to counterattack?

Time only does one thing. It’s the best at what it does, and what it does is what it is. Time is the perfect example of a one-trick-pony, because it doesn’t need anything else.

It never stops. That’s the secret. That’s why Time is so confident. Because it’s losing, true, and it only knows one trick. But it’s, by far, the best trick in the game.

Fate is starting to get annoyed, because Time won’t stop smiling, a smile that verges on a chuckle. The audacity of this, the cockiness… It’s unbearable. It’s not the proper way to do this. Because—and the words are spoken aloud, as the next turn starts—the game might be many things, but it is not a joke.

So the pieces move, and a pink pony walks into a bank…

…And she said, “What do you mean, I have no money?!”

To which, the clerk replied: “Well, Ma’am. Take a guess.”

“Ooh! A game!” Pinkie, ever the charmer, bobbed up and down in her chair in excitement. “I love this kind of thing! Do I get three tries?”

The clerk blinked. “No,” he said.

“Aw, shoot. Why not?”

“Because you have no money, Ma’am. Now, may I ask you to leave, please.”

“Oh.” Pinkie gave this a bit of thought. “Fair point! Shame, I wanted those tries. Trying is always nice, is something I learned recently! So, can I make a withdrawal now?”

It was at this point that the clerk, a green stallion with the face of a fish out of water, hopes, and dreams, realized this was not going to be a nice morning.

Canterlot Bank was a big, gray, and boring building by the west side of the city. It was full of big, gray, and boring ponies, and every single one of them was miserable—especially the clerk, who sat by a table on the left corner—and had planned to keep it that way, up until the point when the pink pony walked into the building that day.

Pinkamena Diane Pie, known among her friends and acquaintances as “Pinkie Pie” [1], was a somewhat famous pony. She had the kind of personality that just stuck out, and also she had sort of saved the world ten times over by this point.

[1] And among her enemies as “Please, stop”, “Please stop”, “Ma’am, I must ask you to—”, and the oh-so-popular “I don’t get paid enough for this, that’s it, I’m out”.

Pinkie’s fame wasn’t completely benign, though, as most ponies believed she was aloof, simple-minded, or even—Celestia forbid!—bloody stupid. This, as anything most ponies believe, was completely wrong.

Pinkie Pie was more than just “not an idiot”, though. In fact, Pinkie Pie just so happened to be extremely intelligent. The problem was that, if anything, she was too clever—and not just by half; more like by seven and three-quarters.

Now, here’s the thing about geniuses:

They’re too good to bother.

They’re too smart to pay attention to trivial things – stuff like mathematics, or logic, or object permanence. When your mind works in abstracts, you deal with abstracts – and it just so happens that you sound, talk, and act like an absolute bloody idiot.

Thus, Pinkie Pie.

“But why can’t I make a withdrawal? I need the money!” she was explaining at this point. “See, it’s a funny story, Mister, uh…” She looked at the nameplate on the table, and had to read it twice to make sure she got it right. “…Number?” she finally said. “Did I get it right? Is that on the nameplate short for ‘Number’, Mister Number?”

The clerk blinked once. “No.”

“Then what’s it short for?”

“Nothing. It’s No.”

“It’s a no-no?”

“No.” If the clerk had known what an emotion was [2], he would have rolled his eyes at this point. “That’s my name.”

[2] Working in a bank does things to a pony.

“Your name’s a no-no?” Pinkie frowned. “Why?”

“No. My name is not a—” The clerk took a deep breath. “Ma’am. My name is No Interest. First name No. Last name Interest.” He pointed at the nameplate. “No, name. Interest, last name. Got it?”

“No!”

“…Is that a yes?”

“I can’t tell myself!”

A pause.

“Please, just call me ‘Mr. Interest’, Ma’am.”

“Okay!” Pinkie winked at No Interest, and made a gesture that in another world, in another dimension, would have emulated a couple of fingerguns. “So anyway, Mister Number—”

“Ma’am, please.”

“—It’s a really funny story! I hadn’t really thought about this before coming to Canterlot, because of all this Armageddon business and Sunset Shimmer coming back and Twilight being weird, right? But Sunset Shimmer never got a Welcome Party!”

Astounded silence followed, at least from Pinkie Pie’s side. No Interest’s vibe was a little different.

“Ma’am.”

“I know! Lately I haven’t been much in the Welcome Party mindset—there are only so many parties you can give, right? And those aren’t always the best!—but the moment I woke up today? I don’t know!” Pinkie shrugged. “Maybe it’s something in the air. It smells sweet, it reminds me of my home. And my first party ever! And then I noticed!” She slammed her hooves on the table. “Sunset hasn’t been in a single party since she came back! So I need that money!”

No Interest took another deep breath. “Ma’am,” he said, “I can’t give you a single bit.”

“But why?!”

“Because,” and here No Interest looked down to the book on the table, “at this moment, mathematically speaking, you’re more debt than pony. You seem to have foregone the worst financial plan I’ve seen in my entire career.” A pause. “This means that you have less than zero money, Ma’am.”

“Gasp!” Pinkie’s mouth formed a perfect circle. “But Mister Number, that’s not possible! I made sure that my plan made all the sense!”

“No. And also, no, you didn’t, Ma’am.” He looked back at the book, then at Pinkie. He gave this a bit of thought. “On the other hoof, and from what I’ve gathered from you so far, it’s entirely possible that you did. Which is, I suppose, far worse.”

“But I had Princess Twilight make sure my plan made all the sense!”

“Then I guess we’re really lucky Princess Twilight doesn’t have any sociopolitical influence whatsoever, Ma’am, because we’d all be starving by now.”

“Hmmm.” Pinkie Pie wasn’t a stranger to adversity. She rested her back on the chair, frown burrowed, lost deep in thought. “So I can’t get any money out for the party?”

“No. You can’t. Because you have no money.” No Interest nodded to himself, and closed the book. “You seem to have some difficulty with the concept, so let me restate my point, Ma’am: I must ask you to—”

“What if I ask you nicely?” Pinkie said, raising a hoof. “Would you give me the money then, Mister Number?”

“It’s No. And, also, no.”

“Drat. I should have brought Fluttershy with me. She’s great at asking nicely.” Pinkie made a pout. “Well, then what do I do? I don’t want to rob a bank again, but I need that money. Hmmm.”

“Ma’am—”

“Miss Pie?” a third voice asked, and No Interest had never heard anything so beautiful. “What a strange coincidence, meeting with you like this.”

To which Pinkie turned around to look at the brown stallion standing right behind her. “Filthy Rich!” she said.

Filthy Rich, indeed. “Filthy Rich, indeed,” he said. “Hi, Miss Pie.”

“Hi!” Pinkie smiled at him and shook his hoof. “What are you doing in Canterlot?”

“Saving me,” No Interest said. “Sir? Are you taking this mare away?”

“Yes, I think that might be the case, actually. I’d like to discuss some business with her.” Filthy Rich nodded to the clerk in a gesture that could have been described as elegant, in a southern-gentlepony kind of way. “Only after she finishes her conversation with you, of course.”

“By all means, take her away immediately,” No Interest said. “Please. Please.”

“Hahah. You’re funny. I like you!” Pinkie patted No Interest’s head before getting up and walking away with Filthy Rich. “I’ll be sure to invite you to Sunset Shimmer’s welcome party, Mister Number!”

“No. And also, please don’t.”

“I have to admit, Miss Pie, that this is highly unorthodox for me,” Filthy Rich said once they were safely away from earshot, almost next to the door. “But, and I apologize for it, I couldn’t help but listen to the conversation you had with that clerk. You’re going through some financial troubles, it seems.”

“Yeah! And it’s such a shame, too!” Pinkie shook her head. “I have to prepare a party, right? But I can’t do anything without money.” A pause. “Unless…”

“Hmm.” Filthy Rich looked at her. “Miss Pie, I can tell that this party is important to you. I can also tell that what you’re planning right now is probably not legal.”

“Gray area. But go on!”

“What would you say,” and here Filthy Rich used a tone that could only be described as perfectly reasonable, in that way only great liars or crazy ponies can use it, “if I told you I could help you? With, say, a loan?”

And Pinkie’s eyes sparkled like twin stars on a red carpet. “You would grant me a loan?” she asked. “Really?”

“Well, usually I wouldn’t, no. But, what can I say?” Filthy Rich laughed—he could almost be handsome, when he laughed like that, Pinkie noticed. Reasonably handsome—and then shrugged. “Maybe it’s something in the air. I feel generous, Miss Pie. You seem to be in trouble. And I always had a weak spot for pink mares.”

“Hahah. That’s great!” Pinkie said. “So you can just give me a loan, and then I’ll have the money?”

“Yes. Of course, you’d have to pay me back—with interest. I must ask you to sign a contract or two. But I’m sure you’ll find these terms,” and his voice became sweet, “perfectly reasonable.”

And Pinkie, being the genius she was, did exactly that.

There’s a sweet scent in the air. An old mare by the west side of Canterlot realizes that this morning her husband is wearing a red tie, instead of his usual blue one.

She smiles. He was wearing that red tie when they met for the first time. When she points this out, the old stallion smiles back, and says he knows. It just came to mind this morning, and he thought about rekindling the old flame. She’s as beautiful as ever, he says. She blushes.

It’s a sweet moment.

Flowers Fall.

Here’s the thing about places:

They’re not living things. But this doesn’t mean they aren’t alive.

“And I hate this place,” Sunset said, looking up at the library’s main door, “precisely because of that.”

“Hi to you too, Sunset.”

“Good morning, Twilight,” Sunset replied. They were in front of the Royal Library. Around them, flowers rained down, harder than they’d ever rained down before—to the point where their smell, usually soft and subtle, became sickening. “I was saying. I hate this place. And you know why? Because places like this are more than just places, they’re—they mean things. They’re alive, and I hate it. Did I ever tell you that?”

Twilight shot Sunset the kind of smile only a friend, or a mother, can shoot. The kind of smile that says ‘I hate you’, but also ‘I love you’.

And then she said, “Yes, Sunset. Many times.”

“Because I just hate it so much.”

The Royal Library took half of the west wing of the Castle. Around the city it was widely known as the densest part of Equestria. Scholars, as they’re prone to do, liked to believe that the nickname came under the assumption that knowledge was measured by the ton. Scholars, as they’re prone to do, were absolutely and totally wrong.

The Royal Library had been designed as a cube, the most efficient of shapes. Which had been fine for a while, but then scholars had got a hold on the plans, and they’d demanded that the Library had a tower.

The reasoning behind this demand was that towers were the loneliest kind of building, and that fit libraries a lot. Also, that classically, libraries had always been on top of a tower [3]. Facing this kind of social pressure, the lead architect had been forced to sit down and reach a compromise between what the public wanted, and what they’d already built.

[3] As in, that’s how it worked in their books. The cool ones. The ones with knights, and scantily-clad princesses, and (more often than not) entirely unnecessary dragons.

The result of that compromise had been that they had finished the cube, and then they had stuck a single tower in the center of it, and so technically everything was part of the tower. Everypony was happy this way, and it all worked perfectly, except for a single detail.

“It’s a literal middle finger to the skies, is what this building is,” Sunset was raging at the moment, with this kind of passion that only comes when talking about things that, ultimately, don’t matter. “It’s a monument to the idea of form before function. It’s the embodiment of everything that’s wrong with Equestria. And, I can’t stress this enough, it’s a literal middle finger towards the skies.”

“Okay.” Twilight Sparkle, who had spent the last seven hours inside said Library, walked to her friend and rested a hoof on her shoulder. “So, two things, Sunset,” she said. “First: I have no idea what that middle finger thing is about. Ponies don’t have fingers. We have hooves. It’s kind of our thing. Second: Everything you’re telling me? I already know. You’ve told me this exact same thing a thousand times already.”

“It’s just… with a teacher, right, students learn through humility. There’s always someone better than them. But this?!”

“The Library doesn’t teach humility. Young ponies nowadays don’t know how to treat their elders. Books are rotting their brains,” Twilight said. “Etcetera, etcetera. Sunset, you’ve told me this so many times I’ve got the speech pretty much memorized. Now you’re going to say that the Library is so fake that if it were a pony—”

“It’d be the kind of pony who wears a black turtleneck without an ounce of irony,” Sunset said, and the seething in her tone was almost palpable. “The kind that, that wears thick-rimmed glasses for no other reason than because she thinks it makes her look smart. The kind that says that her best friend is a book with a straight face.”

“Uh-huh.”

“The worst kind of mare.”

And from behind Twilight, came a voice that could have frozen summer in July. “You know,” it said, “if you want me to go away, you can just say it.”

And to this, Sunset Shimmer just smiled in that way that showed too many teeth. “Hi, Moondancer,” she said.

“Goodbye, Sunset Shimmer,” Moondancer replied adjusting her thick-rimmed glasses and brushing the shoulder of her black turtleneck. “Twilight, if you need me I’ll be inside,” she said, pointing at the Library. “Reading. Studying. Saving the world. You know, useful stuff. Unlike others, I might add.”

And so, Moondancer took her leave.

“You know?” Twilight said, once she was gone, hoof still resting on Sunset’s shoulder, “you could at least try not to be like that. Moondancer is a good mare, when you get to know her.”

“Oooooor, instead,” Sunset said, smiling brightly, “I could not waste my time and go straight to you! Don’t you think that’s much easier?”

“Easier? Yes. But I don’t think purposely antagonizing my friends is a good long-term plan if you’re to keep living in Equestria.”

“Twilight, Moondancer hates me. I’m not going to bother fighting a losing battle.”

“I mean.” Twilight paused, gave it a bit of thought, made a face. “I mean, yes. Yes, she hates you. Loathes you, really. But I really think that—”

“So!” Sunset said, clapping, as she got away from the Library. Twilight followed. “You know Princess Luna?”

“You’re changing the topic.”

“Blatantly. You know Princess Luna? Ruler of the Night, Princess of the Moon, all that jazz?”

Twilight nodded. “Uh-huh. What about her?”

“You know how she’s not a megalomaniacal murderer anymore?”

“Yes,” Twilight said, nodding a little less. “She won’t stop talking about it.”

“Right,” Sunset said. “So… How much of that is actually true, again?”

A pause. Twilight took the question like a house takes a hurricane.

Loyalty is a wonderful thing. Twilight Sparkle was loyal to the bone, to the point where her total faith in the Princess—and Luna, by proxy—was still one of her core characteristics. She really loved loyalty, it was the kind of thing that made it easier to wake up every morning.

But on the other hand one can only get so many free apples before learning that honesty is the best policy. So Twilight went with the only possible answer.

“Gmrk,” she said.

“Yeah, you be noncommittal at me all you like, Twilight,” Sunset said, frowning. “But I woke up to that mare suffocating me with a pillow this morning, so, y’know. Choke on that.”

A pause.

“She… Sorry, what?” Twilight blinked. “What? With a pillow?”

“Charming how that’s the one detail that ticks you off.”

“Okay, no, I don’t—Sunset Shimmer, what on Equestria were you doing to force Princess Luna to suffocate you with a pillow?!”

Sunset made a face. “Well,” she said. “If I recall, I was screaming.”

“And why were you screaming?”

“…Because she was suffocating me with a pillow? I—Sorry, I think I need a moment.” She took a deep breath. “Twilight Sparkle. Do you really think, and I want you to be honest here, do you really think there might be an explanation here that is not ‘because Princess Luna is severely deranged’?”

“Of course Princess Luna is severely deranged!” Twilight rolled her eyes. “But that’s the thing: she’s deranged the other way around! She would never hurt a pony, it’s not in her nature.” A pause. “Or, uh, it’s in her nature, actually, and that’s why she would never do it? Because reformed villains are… Look, it’s complicated.” A sigh. “I’ll have a talk with her later.”

“That would be peachy. Except that you already had a talk with her,” Sunset said. “That’s why she came to me. So, like. Don’t.”

“What?” Twilight frowned. “Really?”

“Yes. She wanted me to know that Princess Celestia is busy this afternoon.” Sunset clapped. “Which brings me to the next topic! I apparently invited Princess Celestia to lunch!”

Twilight almost blushed. The thing on her face could have been a blush, if she’d been the kind of pony who did things to be embarrassed about. But Twilight wasn’t like that. She only did what had to be done.

So what came to her face was probably just a rash. “Um,” she said. “Right. Um.”

“Yeah. How about that.” Credit where credit is due: Sunset didn’t sound particularly annoyed. She just had that kind of ‘gotcha’ smirk on her face. The infuriating one. “But as I said, the Princess will be busy until this evening. She graciously invited me to dinner to make up for it.”

“Oh. Oh!” Twilight’s ears picked up. “Sunset, that’s absolute—”

“And I’m not going.”

“—ly fantaswait wait what. What.”

“Ugh.” Sunset looked up, and had to brush three flowers away from her mane. She left the ones on Twilight’s head, though. “This place is horrible. I can’t breathe with all these flowers. Wanna go grab a bite?”

“What.”

“Oh, yeah, you have no reason to be angry here. You tried to fool me into having a dinner with Celestia.” Sunset glared at Twilight here. She didn’t Squint™, but she came close. “I just want to get out of here. Because I hate the Library. But this? We’re discussing this, Twilight. We’re discussing this long and hard.”

There’s a sweet scent in the air. Somewhere in Canterlot, a teenager is about to go out, but something stops him.

He remembers that, when he was a kid, he would never leave the house without giving his teddy bear a hug. A really manly hug, mind you—the kind of hug that screamed “Alpha Macho”. But a hug, nonetheless.

He’d forgotten this long ago, but now it comes back to mind. He realizes that at one point, he gave the teddy bear a hug, and then he let it down, and never picked it up again.

It’s surprising how much this thought stings.

So he spends ten, fifteen minutes rummaging through his old closet, until he finds the teddy bear. And then, after making sure he’s alone, he gives it one hug. It’s a silly thing, just a little bit of nostalgia, and soon enough he’s out with his friends and forgets it all again.

But the teddy bear sits in the open, out of the closet for the first time in a decade.

Flowers Fall.

Here’s the thing about utopias:

They make apocalypses irrelevant.

Three days had passed since the start of the end of the world, and Canterlot didn’t mind it. Because flowers, when you got to it, just didn’t look the part. They were pretty; beautiful, even, but they weren’t fearsome. And they were edible, for goodness’ sake.

The only problem with the flowers was that, unlike snow, they didn’t melt. They accumulated, and had to be swept away. But then again, they were perfectly edible—so free food, and a great boost to the economy, because suddenly there were a lot of business opportunities, what with sweeping being so profitable all of a sudden.

So, when Sunset and Twilight got to Main Street and found a nice place to spend a couple hours in, they didn’t see a dying city: they saw pretty flowers raining and happy ponies smiling.

“Which makes it even sadder how you have to rot your days, at the Library, with Moondancer, to solve something everypony seems to not mind much,” Sunset said.

Twilight was patient. “I like Moondancer,” she said. “And I like the Library. And Flower Fall might kill us all!”

“The sing-song voice really brings that last bit to life.”

“Thanks!”

“You know what we should do?” Sunset asked. “We should go out, you and I! Just, find a couple of good stallions, and dance the night away!” Her smile was big and honest. “What do you think?”

“That is a horrible idea, and I hate everything about it.”

A pause.

“Okay.” Sunset nodded. “So what if we take three stallions each—”

“No.”

“Shoot.”

The café was almost empty, but in a way that made it cozy instead of eerie. Twilight and Sunset sat at the corner, to make sure they could enjoy some privacy. “Canterlot Seal of Quality,” Sunset muttered, after she saw it. “Gotta love this city sometimes. I’m sure the service here is top-notch.”

“You know, I don’t get why you hate Moondancer so much, really,” Twilight said once the waiter went away with their order. “What has she done to you? You barely know her!”

Sunset looked at Twilight. Her eyes, her muzzle, her cheeks, her mane. Her posture. The way she was crossing her legs. The way she wasn’t really frowning, but wasn’t really smiling either. She loved this mare.

So instead of telling the truth, Sunset dodged the question with another question. “What do you see in her?” she said.

“She’s smart, she’s nice, I can always count on her, she’s my childhood friend, and you’re clearly trying to dodge my question.”

“So she’s your childhood friend,” Sunset said, face serious. “And that is the only reason why you still hang around with her.”

“That is not true, and also you’re still dodging—”

Sunset grabbed one of Twilight’s hooves. “Twilight,” she whispered. “Do you want me to bring up how Luna tried to kill me this morning because of you.”

“—nothing, you’re dodging nothing, and I’ll listen to whatever you have to say,” Twilight said, not missing a beat.

“Atta girl.” Sunset winked at Twilight. “So! She’s your childhood friend, and that’s all. This is about nostalgia. Now, let me ask you: if you met her today, do you think you would still be friends? Do you think the pony she is now could become your friend from scratch?”

Twilight thought about this. Then, she said “Well, yes. Probably. As I said—”

“See?” Sunset crossed her legs and rested her back on the chair, her face the perfect picture of victory. “That means she wouldn’t.”

“What?”

Sunset shook her head. “You said yes, I got that. But in reality? You meant no. Because you had to think about it. You had to pause and wonder, instead of answering from the heart. And the heart,” and she looked at Twilight eye to eye here, heart to heart, mare to mare, “is what matters.”

A pause.

Sunset looked at Twilight.

Twilight looked at Sunset.

“You expected me to answer ‘no’, didn’t you,” Twilight said.

“OH MY GOSH I JUST HATE THAT PONY SO MUCH.”

“Charming.”

“WHY IS YOUR TASTE SO BAD WHEN IT COMES TO MARES.”

This seemed to amuse Twilight far more than expected. “Hey,” she said, and she punched Sunset’s shoulder, little smile on her face. “You’d be surprised!”

“Ouch.”

“Fooling around aside, you still haven’t told me why you dislike Moondancer,” Twilight continued, and here her tone got serious again. “So, you know. Now it would be a good time to—”

“Oh, hey! A distraction!” Sunset pushed Twilight away a little and looked to the left, where a stern-looking waiter was carrying a tray with two glasses. “Our drinks are here! That was fast! Give my regards to the chef!”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Subtle.”

“Thank you. The drinks, please?”

The waiter kept his stern face on, and just approached the table with the nerve and composure of a stallion who had seen better times in his life. “Princess Twilight,” he said, “your coffee.”

And he put a small cup of coffee on the table.

“Ma’am,” he continued, “your double bourbon, cut with absinthe, with tequila to wash it down and a cherry on top.”

And he put a glass the size of a small sun [4] in front of Sunset, then a slightly smaller glass right next to it, and then a cherry on top of it all.

[4] This was not an exaggeration.

To understand Equestrian physics, one had to understand that generally universes had four Fundamental Forces: Gravity, Electromagnetism, Strong Nuclear Force, and Weak Nuclear Force. This is the reason why most things, usually, make sense.

Equestria didn’t work like that. Equestria had one Fundamental Force–Magic–and two Fundamental Horses–Celestia, and Luna. This meant that Equestrian Physics worked by the mathematical rule of Shrug Anything Goes Really. Water burned, love caused earthquakes, and stars were the size of footballs.

So that was a really big glass, but it didn’t defy the Laws of Physics. You can’t kill what is already dead.

And then he left.

Twilight looked at Sunset’s glass, eyes wide. Then, she looked at Sunset. Then, at the clock on the wall—10:00am. Then, back at Sunset.

Then she just sort of made a face that said a million things at once.

And Sunset reacted with the kind of jaded sigh that one would expect from a mother of twelve, when told she’s pregnant with triplets. “Look,” she said. “Don’t judge me.”

“Sunset.”

“Hey.” Sunset lifted the glass with a flash of her horn and gave it a preemptive sniff. It smelled like death and future regrets. “I said don’t judge me.”

She took a sip.

Pause.

“…Is it good?” Twilight eventually asked.

“Hahah. Gosh. No.” Sunset smiled. “It’s really not. BOTTOMS-UP!”

And she took three gulps in quick succession.

Fifteen really interesting seconds followed. They were the kind of fifteen seconds you never talk about, but you remember. You always remember. In the dark of night, you remember. When it’s cold, and by your side you hear your loved one whisper in their sleep, you remember. Whenever a kid asks why every flame one day burns out, you sit back, and remember.

Even Twilight had to look away and drink her coffee not to gag, because apparently it was possible to get heartburn by proxy.

Then, it was done. Sunset ate the cherry, washed her mouth with the tequila, and then slammed both glasses on the table. “Well then!” She said, once the world stopped spinning. “That’s probably the second worst thing I’ve ever tasted! May I have another?”

“Sunset Shimmer, it’s ten in the morning, and I can’t believe you—”

“Ooof.” Sunset grabbed her stomach, then burped. “Ooof. Ugh, this is horrible. Sorry, you were saying?”

Twilight looked at her. “You’re pale.”

“Yeah, I think I just punched my liver inside out.” Another burp. “You know what? I think there was something weird in that cherry.”

“Sunset Shimmer, what on Equestria got to you?” Twilight asked. She got up, and moved her chair so she could be closer to Sunset, then patted her on the back. “There, there. Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“No, no. Thanks. Ooof.”

“What’s this all about?”

“Weeeeell.” Sunset flinched, then straightened her back, and signaled the waiter. “You know when you look at yourself, and you go, hey, I think I’m going to become an alcoholic now?”

“That is honestly one of the most horrible things I’ve ever heard you say.” Twilight patted Sunset’s back once more. “And that’s saying something. Did you know you talk a lot about Squattin’ Steve?”

“And yet I feel I’m not doing him justice. Squattin’ Steve is greater than life, Twilight. Trust me on that.”

“Yeah, that I believe.” A sigh. “So you want to start drinking now?”

“Pretty much.” Sunset rested her head on her hooves, stared at the empty glass. “I mean, I’m a middle-aged pony, trapped in the body of a human teenager, trapped in the body of a middle-aged pony. I have no idea what my frame of reference is here, I’m sort of rolling with the punches.” She cast a glance at Twilight. “Part of me wants to go out and party. Part of me wants to tell you to wear a sweater.”

A pause. “A sweater?”

“It’s almost winter. You’ll get a cold!”

“Oh.” Understanding dawned on Twilight. “Ooooh, dear.”

“Would it be too much to ask you to wear a scarf, at least? You’re a scrawny kid, you look like you’ll need it. And you’re too skinny. Are you eating properly?”

“Ooooh, dear.”

“So yeah. Getting drunk? That’s a nice balance, if you ask me. A lot of moms get drunk." Sunset paused, and poked the glass. “They might not be the best moms? But they are the hottest. And I rock the hot mom look.”

Twilight let herself smile, though she made a point of not looking anywhere but Sunset’s face. “You do, yeah.”

“Right? And this is easier than facing my problems.” She looked to the left. The waiter was there again. “So obviously the only way to do this is…”

The waiter put another small-sun-glass on the table. “Double bourbon, cut with absinthe.” Shot glass. “And tequila to wash it down.”

A pause. Both mares looked at the waiter.

The waiter’s face didn’t falter. “I’m afraid we’re out of cherries, ma’am.”

“Well. So much for that Canterlot Seal of Quality, then.” Sunset just grabbed the new glass, saw the waiter walk away, and raised the—

Twilight pushed the glass down. “Nope, not going to do that,” she said. “Hey, remember how we shared a moment, a couple nights ago? You’re here because your life is a mess, I’m here because I want to help you?” She nodded at the glass. “This is not helping. This is making a mess on top of another mess.”

“Yes, but it’s a fun mess,” Sunset said. “Get drunk, forget the rest, and just do whatever.” She raised the—

Twilight pushed the glass down. “But that’s not healthy.” she said. “In fact, that’s the opposite of healthy! Sunset, you have to face your problems head-on, that’s how you fix them. This is just running away!”

“Exactly. And you know what?” Sunset looked at Twilight, annoyance on her face. “Running away is what I’m best at. Bottoms up!”

And she drank the whole thing.

Fifteen horrible seconds later, Sunset smacked her lips. “Yep. Much better. See? It was the cherry all along.”

“Sunset—”

“So, now I’m tipsy.” Sunset frowned. “I think. I hope. So I guess we can go to the point—I’m not attending Princess Celestia’s dinner.”

Twilight glared, but her ears went down. After looking at the waiter—and making sure there were no more drinks coming—she went back to her coffee and took a sip. She never left Sunset’s side, though. “You should,” she finally said. “I’m doing this for you.”

“Why? There’s nothing to gain from it.” Sunset burped again, then hit her chest once or twice. “Ooof. That cherry is still kicking. Anyway—look, Princess Celestia and I have nothing to talk about.”

“You betrayed her,” Twilight said. Her voice sounded like she was trying to be soft-spoken, and utterly failing, because she looked like she wanted to punch down a mountain. “And crossed the mirror. That’s what started it all—and that’s where you should start, too.”

“Start what. Dinner?”

“Atoning,” Twilight said. “For your mistakes. Taking steps forward. Bettering your life.”

“Right. Or.” Sunset pointed at the four empty glasses. “I can just drink a lot of alcohol. Fulfill my destiny. I don’t think that Princess Celestia wants to speak with me, and I definitely don’t want to go there. Also, Princess Luna tried to murder me. What are we doing about that?”

“About Luna?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll just ask her not to murder you again.”

A pause.

“I mean.” Sunset frowned, tapped the table. Frowned harder. “I guess I can’t come up with a better plan myself, but that’s still kind of a letdown.”

“And of course you don’t want to go see Celestia. That’s normal! But you have to conquer your fears, Sunset Shimmer.” Twilight grabbed Sunset’s hoof, and her ears went up. She had beautiful eyes, Twilight Sparkle, and she knew how to use them. “Trust me on this,” she said. “It’ll be good for you.”

Sunset said nothing for a moment. She just looked at Twilight, eye to eye.

Then, she scoffed. “Yeah, right. No. I think you’re getting the wrong impression here. Atoning for my mistakes—how’s that going to help me?” She pulled her hoof free from Twilight’s. “Look, what I want to do is move on, solve my life. Dwelling on the past is just going to make things awkward.”

“I think you’d be surprised.” Twilight took her cup and finished up the coffee in three quick gulps. “It’s not the first time I've done this, you know? Did I ever tell you about Starlight Glimmer? She was in a similar situation…”

“Not really, no. Look—do you want me to be completely honest with you?” Sunset said. “Do you want to know why I hate Moondancer?”

“Sure! I would also like to know how that’s relevant.”

The words came out clear and simple. They were the kind of words one would expect to be heavy, riddled with angst, with tears. The kind of words one sees written in red on a wall, the kind of words that a dying pony mutters when the Reaper shows up.

Sunset Shimmer enunciated them with the passion of a Math teacher hosting a spelling bee.

“I hate Moondancer because she reminds me of myself,” she said.

Twilight said nothing. She just stared.

“Glasses aside, mind you,” Sunset added. “I had much better taste, thank you very much. But the rest?” She rested her back on her chair and rolled her eyes. “Pffft. Textbook, really. Rocky past, nerdy girl—she’s got it all. Moondancer’s exactly like me. And so, I hate her.”

“I… Huh.” Twilight blinked, then rubbed the back of her neck. “Wow. That’s… heavy.”

“I mean, yeah. But hey, at least I’m self-aware. See?” Sunset raised her hoof at the waiter, pointed at her drink. Then she looked back at Twilight. “My past? Nothing good. Talking with Celestia would just be awkward, it wouldn’t solve anything. I’ve got that entire bit covered, trust me.”

“Sunset.” Twilight kept rubbing the back of her neck. “That’s—I actually think this is even more of a reason for you to talk with the Princess. You need to face your past demons, to grow up.” She sighed. “And I’m sorry that you feel that way about Moondancer. She’s a really good mare. You should try to talk to her, too.”

“Nah.”

A twinkle of annoyance, in Twilight’s eye. “Well, now you’re just being silly.”

The waiter brought the new drink. Sunset eyed the glass like a chicken eyes the butcher’s knife. “I’m being pragmatic. It’s not like Moondancer likes me either.” She raised the glass, though she didn’t start drinking yet. “And even if she did, I thought you wanted there to be problems? You seem to be really keen on solving everything as soon as possible.”

“I wanted problems so I could solve them!” Twilight said. “That’s what this is all about! I can’t—I need to focus, Sunset. To give it all I have, to tackle every problem and crisis head-on. That’s when I shine.” Her eyes were, indeed, shining. “That’s the only moment I feel alive. I can’t do things half-way, or else it will mean nothing.”

“Hmm.” Sunset closed her eyes and nodded sagely. “Yes. Twilight Sparkle, you’re a great friend. I love you, I really do. But do you know how I just said I’m self-aware? Remember that?” She opened her eyes, and then winked at Twilight. “That’s the main difference between you and me, girl.”

“Right, sure.”

“And what’s it to ya? Even if this is a problem—which it isn’t—Moondancer doesn’t want to solve it either. That mare hates me. And I’m not going to make amends, I don’t owe her anything. Cheers!” And Sunset started drinking.

Twilight didn’t try to stop her. “Well,” she said, “Moondancer has been helping me investigate Flower Fall. So, technically, you do owe her; she’s helping you. With Moondancer studying the general composition, I can focus on specific problems, like you being middle-aged all of a sudden.”

Sunset choked on her drink.

A small moment of panic followed, because choking with that drink was like suffocating on kerosene. There were faster ways to burn one’s lungs, but none as painful, and Sunset had to be patted on the back with quite the strength for almost a minute until she could breathe again.

“Kkkkgh. Oh, oh gosh. This isn’t good.” Sunset heaved. “Kkkkgh. Twilight, I think I’m done for. Kkkkkgh—”

“Yikes.” Twilight patted her again. “Really, what’s the matter with you? Is the idea of Moondancer being a good pony that repulsive to you? Because that’s an… interesting problem.” She coughed. “I mean, seeing how you obviously project yourself in her…”

“Twilight.” Sunset’s eyes were watering, but at least she wasn’t completely red now. “Please shut up for a moment, please?”

“Huh.” Twilight arched an eyebrow, still patting. “That’s an interesting reaction.” Then, she squinted, because something had just clicked. “Wait a moment,” she said. “Sunset?”

“Kkkgh. Kkkggaagh. Oh, boy. I think I’m okay. Okay.” Sunset took a deep breath, swallowed, then looked at Twilight. “Yes?”

“You didn’t choke because I talked about Moondancer, right?” Twilight looked at Sunset, up and down. The gray bits in her mane, the shadow of wrinkles around her eyes. “You choked because I talked about your age.”

Sunset whined.

“You know why you’re middle-aged.” Twilight frowned. “You hinted at that before, but… What are you hiding from me? What’s this all about?”

“Ugh.” Sunset slouched so hard she pressed her face flat against the table. “Please don’t make this weird?”

“Don’t make what weird?”

“It’s just—I guess you never really thought of it. Which sorta makes it worse?” Sunset’s voice was muffled against the table, but clear enough to be understood. “Ugh. This is going to be weird.”

Twilight frowned. “Sunset, you’re almost scaring me here. Are you drunk?”

“I wish.” Sunset sighed. It made a raspberry sound against the table. “Look, just—do you remember how young you were when Celestia took you as her personal student?”

“Really young,” Twilight said. “Just a foal. Just after I got Spike, actually.”

“Right.” Sunset got up, resting her head on her hooves. “And you spent a lot of time as Celestia’s student, and you grew up, and a lot of things happened. Then, you came to the human dimension, and you found me there as a teenager in Canterlot High School. Right?”

Twilight nodded. “Right.”

“And then I just spent a lot of time there, and I never aged.” Sunset bit her lip. “But… I was Celestia’s personal student too, right? Before you. I also started really young, then I became a teenager, and that’s when I crossed the portal. And in there, I never aged. And this happened when you were just a little foal.”

A pause.

Twilight’s eyes got wide. “Oh my gosh,” she said. “Oh my gosh, I’ve never—Celestia hadn’t had a personal student in years when she took me under her wing, she told me that, which means… You became her student before I was even born?!”

“Aaand you’re making it weird.”

“Just how old are you?!”

A grimace. “Yikes, girl. Spare me some dignity, will you?”

“You’re old enough to be my mother!” Twilight buried her face on her hooves. “Oh my gosh,” she repeated. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I—you’re old enough to be my mother!”

“You know what? I’m just going to keep drinking till you calm down.”

“I just, I—” Twilight shook her head, still hidden behind her own hooves. “I’m an idiot. I’m such an idiot.”

“Idiot? Nah.” Sunset finished up her drink. “Offensive? Yeah. But I like you anyway. Thank Celestia you’re cute.”

“I can’t believe I never figured this out.” Here, Twilight managed to cast a glance at Sunset. “You’re—this has nothing to do with Flower Fall. You just took on your real age when you came back to Equestria. Because your human body was stuck as a teenager. And now you’re old.”

A pause.

Twilight looked away. “Middle-aged. Sorry. Please, don’t Squint™ at me?”

“You’re making it hard not to, young lady,” Sunset said. “My age is one of those things I’d rather not think about, thank you very much.”

“I—yes. Sorry.” Twilight gulped, looked to the sides, looked at Sunset. “Just… You’re, you’re actually way older than me.”

“Twilight. Honey.” You could sharpen a knife in Sunset’s smile. “You’re not that cute.”

“Sorry! Just—I’m trying to wrap my mind about this!” Twilight whined. “I thought we were the same age! This is weird!”

“Yep.”

“So… How do I talk to you, now?” Twilight sighed. “I have no idea. Do I treat you like always, do I, I don’t know, have some respect for you? I can’t believe this—am I like a daughter to you? Is that why you’re momming me around?” A pause. Her ears went flat against her head. “Oh dear. You’re momming me around.”

“Twilight. Twilight.” Sunset patted her shoulder. “Hey. Nothing’s changed.”

“But—!”

“I’m the same Sunset as always,” Sunset said. “You just discovered something new about me. That shouldn’t change things, should it? It’s just—I’m the same in here.” She poked her head. “And here.” She poked her chest. “Cool?”

Twilight looked at Sunset. Then, at her own chest.

Then, she sighed, and tried a little smile. “Cool.”

Sunset nodded. “Cool. See? Easy. Don’t make it weird.”

“I won’t. It’s just—you were actually momming me around. I thought it was just the hormones, but you were actually momming me around.” Twilight ran a hoof through her mane. “And I thought that was sweet. This is wild.”

“Well, what do you want? Wild’s my middle name.” Sunset raised a hoof, and waved at the waiter. “As long as you calm yourself down, everything will be good. And if you can’t, well. Another problem to take care of! That’s good, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Twilight swallowed. “Yes. Just… Don’t mom me around anymore? Now that I know this it sort of lost its charm. No offense.”

“Hm.” Sunset shrugged. “None taken. But in exchange, I won’t have dinner with Celestia.” She offered a hoof to Twilight. “Deal?”

“Hahah.” Twilight shook her head, just as the waiter brought Sunset’s drink. “You won’t give up on that, will you? Eyes on the prize.”

Sunset smiled back, and took a sip of her drink. “Eyes on the prize,” she assured, still offering a hoof. “So we got a deal, then?”

And Twilight, eyes sparkling bright, took Sunset’s hoof and shook it with confidence.

“No. You’re going to that dinner.”

“Shoot.”

There’s a sweet scent in the air. A lonely mare—thick-rimmed glasses, black turtleneck—wastes the hours away in the Royal Library.

She loves books. Reading is what she does best, and she reads to save the world. Books used to be all she had, but now she’s got so much more. Her friends, her family. Her life is full of ponies, brilliant ponies, wonderful ponies.

But still, she feels lonely. There’s only a book by her side, it’s late, she’s alone, and old memories come back. She feels like crying. Nostalgia overflows her, only it comes from the other side around. The present doesn’t exist, but the past is written in stone.

There’s a sweet scent in the air. Old demons come back from the grave. And she reads on, because that’s the only thing she can do.

Flowers Fall.

Fourth Chapter - Almost Like A Mother
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Sunsettle For This

Fourth Chapter - Almost Like A Mother

Back at the most important table in the world, Fate just did something strange.

It is a universal truth that beehives are more than the sum of its parts—but most people use this just as an excuse to not look at the bees. Fate knows better. It might not always win, it might not always be fulfilled… But Fate pays attention to the details.

That’s why the audience is cheering, now. Because it’s in the flick of the wrist, in the seemingly unimportant actions, that the most interesting plays of the game are founded. Time is straightforward: it does one thing, and it does it well. Fate is far more resourceful.

Might be why it’s always losing, Time adds.

But Fate pays it no mind. The play is done, and so the game continues, but now there’s something minor that’s changed in Equestria. A book has found a new owner, if only temporarily.

It’s such a tiny thing, it might be hard to see. So let’s make the clock go back. Maybe this time we’ll catch it…

Being a parent is not hard, if you know exactly how to educate your child.

“And then, Diamond Tiara, is when you break their knees!”

Filthy Rich knew how to educate his child.

This all happened in a living room that would have looked less expensive had the walls been coated in gold – expensive furniture, tacky curtains, horrible paintings on the walls, you name it. Filthy Rich and Diamond Tiara had been sitting there for hours, discussing the fine art of financial investment in the modern economy. The scene would have been straight out of the kind of book mares read while sipping from a drink with a tiny umbrella, had they been lovers instead of father and daughter. [1]

[1] Which is not to say there weren’t books with a parent and a child in this exact situation – but those asked for a drink with two tiny umbrellas.

“Indeed. In Canterlot, they like to break the knees before they pay—old Money Bags started that trend; he was a good one, he sure was—but ponies from Manehattan prefer the ‘Good-bye Kiss’.” Filthy Rich’s tone was neutral, perfectly dispassionate. “I side with them. It’s more elegant.”

“Good-Bye Kiss,” Diamond Tiara repeated, lost in thought. She was a teenager now. Her voice, while still keeping part of that childhood sneer, felt like a snake of silk scales. “I don’t get it. What’s that?”

“Before you pay, they beat you up every day,” Filthy Rich explained. There was no smile on his face, but there was one in his voice. “After you pay, they stop, and you’re free to go. But they give you one last moment to remember.”

Diamond Tiara nodded. “The Good-Bye Kiss.”

“Exactly.”

“Which means…?”

“Oh, it’s just another word for breaking their knees,” Filthy Rich said. “Some kiss the crowbar beforehand to give the whole deal more consistency, true, but I honestly think they’d do that no matter what.”

“Huh. I think I could kiss a crowbar if I had to,” Diamond Tiara muttered, getting up from her chair. “Daddy, being an honest businesspony is way harder than I thought. I’m sorry—I always thought your job was easy.”

Filthy Rich looked at his daughter stretch. She moved in a way that made you think of little black dresses, and long cigars, and mysterious whispers in the night. He felt so proud of her. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, and this time the smile made it to his face. “There’s no need to apologize. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you showed some interest in the family business.” A pause, and his smile wavered. “Of course, I don’t intend to force you to follow my hoofsteps. Far from it. I don’t want you to feel any pressure—if you feel like this path isn’t for you, you’re perfectly free to—”

“Daddy.” Diamond Tiara rolled her eyes, but still gave her father an affectionate nuzzle. “Shut up. I’m doing this because I want to.” She made a face. “I’m just afraid I’m not up to it, really. Breaking four knees a week? That sounds like a lot of work.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. It’s in your blood.” Filthy Rich gave his daughter a wink. “You’re probably the most talented pony I’ve ever met, when it comes to this line of work.”

“…You really mean that?”

“Sweetheart, you’ve been torturing those Cutie Mark Crusaders for years, and they don’t even owe you money. It just comes naturally to you. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” Filthy Rich’s chest was swollen with pride. “You’re my daughter. You’ll be the best at this.”

“Aw, Daddy, stop. You’re embarrassing me—”

“Yes, he is embarrassing both of us, dear,” came a voice, and the temperature dropped. “I have no idea what he did or said this time, but his overall existence suffices to do that, I feel.”

The scene changes, as a new pony appears: Enter Spoiled Rich, stage left, carrying a bag over her shoulder. She was a pink mare, darker than her daughter, and the kindest pony in the world would have described her as “straightforward”. Spoiled Rich could be read like a book [2], but it was the kind of book churches kept trying to burn.

[2] Just one look at her face and you could tell, for example, that this was a mare who believed nosejobs were a perfect substitute for happiness.

“And good evening to you too, Mother,” Diamond Tiara said, voice cold. “Goodbye.”

Spoiled Rich arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me? ‘Goodbye?’”

“Yes. I was trying to subtly imply that I’d like you to go away,” Diamond Tiara said. “A shame you didn’t get it. So. Go away.”

“Uh-huh.” Spoiled Rich nodded. “See, though, that’s the thing: I suspected that might be your intention, but seeing how this is you, I was afraid you had simply forgotten how greetings work.”

Diamond Tiara squinted. “Right.”

“I was subtly implying you’re an idiot here, dear,” Spoiled Rich said. “You know, seeing how we’re doing this now.”

Filthy Rich, through a mixture of sheer will and exhaustion, managed to smile at his wife. “Honey!” he said. “How are y—”

“Don’t worry, I also think you’re an idiot,” Spoiled Rich said, not even looking at Filthy Rich. “So there’s no reason to prove it with inane questions, dear.”

“Well.” Filthy Rich just sighed. “I love you too, then.”

“What are you doing here anyway, Mother?” Diamond Tiara asked. “It’s rare to see you in the house at this hour.”

“I had the sudden realization that I hate both you two and myself,” Spoiled Rich said. “So coming here was the easiest way to punish us all as efficiently as possible. Also,” and she dipped her muzzle in her bag, took something out, and threw it straight at her daughter’s face, hitting it with a thunk! “Happy Birthday.”

“You remembered it!” Filthy Rich said with glee. “I can’t believe you remembered it!”

“…I can’t believe you got me a present,” Diamond Tiara said, as she rubbed her muzzle and took a peek at the gift. “What’s this? A book?”

“I figured I’d get you something that fit your personality,” Spoiled Rich said. “So, yes. It’s the most disgusting book I could find—I honestly doubt it’s illegal.” She looked into the bag once more, and then tossed something to her daughter again, this time with more care. “It came with this. For when you’re reading it.”

Diamond Tiara blinked. “A… tiny cup?”

“Yes,” Spoiled Rich said. “And three tiny umbrellas.”

Diamond Tiara screeched, and threw the book away, trying to rub her hooves clean. Even Filthy Rich couldn’t help but jolt away from where the tome landed, his yelp drowned by his wife’s hearty laugh.

“…I’m sure she meant well,” Filthy Rich managed, twenty seconds later, once Spoiled Rich had finally gone away. Both he and Diamond Tiara were looking at the book with fear. “I mean. She was probably just joking.”

“Dad, can you please admit that you married a horrible pony and get over with it already?”

“She’s not a horrible pony,” Filthy Rich said, frowning. “She’s just… I’m sure there’s some good in the inside.”

“Yeah, that’s only true if she’s got a tumor.”

“Diamond Tiara! Don’t talk like th—wait, you’re picking up the book?” Filthy Rich blinked, looked to the door Spoiled had closed after her exit, then back at Diamond Tiara. “…Do you want me to burn it?”

“No.” Diamond Tiara, eyes full of determination, was indeed holding the book. “I’m keeping it.”

Filthy Rich teared up. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, I knew it! You two really love each other—”

“I’m keeping it so I can read it to her at night,” Diamond Tiara interrupted. “I’ll whisper it into her ear while she sleeps.”

A pause.

“Well, I’m sure it’s the thought that counts. I still believe you two love each other, in your way. Do you think you can read that, then?”

“We don’t love each other. We really, really don’t love each other.” Diamond Tiara shivered, and left the book aside. “And give me some weeks, and I’ll get used to it. I’ll be fueled by my own hatred.”

Here, Filthy Rich couldn’t help but smile. “Ah,” he said. “You’re talking like an honest businesspony already. You grow up so fast…”

“Ugh, Daddy. Don’t cry, it’s embarrassing.” She didn’t seem to mind it, though, by the way she was smiling. She sat down by the table once more, and Filthy Rich followed. “So, where were we? Breaking knees?”

“Yes, breaking knees.” Filthy Rich coughed to clear out his throat, and then put on his neutral voice again. This was business. This was important. “Of course, now and then, you meet a pony that can’t be intimidated with mere physical violence. That, sweetheart, is when we go for psychological torture. Usually, going for their closest friends and family does the trick…”

The conversation went on, and on, and on. Filthy Rich explained, in high detail, all the honest strategies he’d used to rise to the top as a young colt. Diamond Tiara paid close attention, and swore to herself that she’d honor her father’s legacy.

Immersed as they both were in the world of financial investment, however, both of them missed the play Fate made. It was subtle—almost too fast for the naked eye—but if they’d been paying attention, they might have noticed.

By the table, the book Spoiled Rich had bought vibrated slightly, and then changed. The cover was similar, almost the same, but the contents were completely different.

It had become a diary. A magical diary, beaten up by all those years sleeping under a bridge, forgotten by its rightful owner. The keen reader might recognize the last two lines, or at least, the impeccable hoofwriting in one of them.

“I need you,” reads the first one. “I’m coming,” reads the last.

And on the first page, the name of the owner: Sunset Shimmer, student of Canterlot High School.

FOURTH CHAPTER:
MOMMY ISSUES

Here’s the thing about the Throne Room:

It was stupid big.

It was the kind of big that made one question ‘why even bother, really’. The Princesses were tall, the Throne itself was magnificent—but the sheer size of that hall dwarfed them both. It made Celestia herself look weak, insignificant. It defeated the point of royalty.

Therein, though, lay its beauty. Celestia had been told this exact thing many times, and she’d always given the same answer: Sly smile. Five words.

“My dear, that’s the point.”

What the Throne Room had in symbolism, though, it lacked in practicality. Big rooms had a lot of inconveniences: they were hard to clean, first, and they were harder to mess up, second. Due to this, some ponies would think it was impossible to—say—party it up in just one afternoon.

Some ponies didn’t know Pinkie Pie.

The Party Cannon went a long way, sure, but it was the little details. Pinkie’s friends were amazing at preparing parties, because if you lived close to Pinkie Pie for over two years you got that skill through sheer osmosis. Take Applejack, for example.

Applejack could inflate three balloons in two and a half seconds. Both Pinkie and Rarity noticed this, but they refused to talk about it. Friendship could survive many things, but questioning why you’re so good at blowing in front of Fluttershy is not one of them. [3]

[3] There was, of course, a perfectly rational—and kid-friendly—explanation for this unusual lung capacity: Applejack was a big sister first, farmer second. Statistically, she spent more time yelling than blinking. Opera singers shattered glass with a high note; Applejack could shatter diamonds.

Applejack herself didn’t seem to notice this. She was too immersed in her conversation with Dash.

“So,” she was saying, effortlessly finishing up one bag of balloons, “you’re sayin’ they’re the same thing?”

“Yeah!” Dash was hovering close to the ceiling, pasting giant SUNSET SHIMMER WELCOME PARTY banners on the walls. “Sounds crazy at first, right? But then you realize it’s just common sense.”

Fluttershy had chosen to help Applejack with the blowing, and nopony had had the heart to tell her. She’d been chewing on the same balloon for fifteen minutes now, her little cheeks perfectly round, slight blush on her face. “Puff puff puff puff,” she said. She did not take the balloon off her mouth. It did not get bigger. There were still flowers in her mane. “Puff puff puff.”

“Yeah, Ah don’t get it either.” Applejack breathed life into three more balloons. “Are you sure this time-space compadre thing is not just silly talk, sugarcube?”

“Come on, Applejack. You heard Twilight say it. You just gotta think about it!” Dash took a little break from the posters to tap her temple and give her friends a meaningful look. “Pinkie told me, and she made sense.”

“Puff puff puff puff.”

“See, Shy gets it.” Dash went back to the poster. It wasn’t holding, so she just kicked it in place till it stuck. “I mean, you know how… Hey, you know how when you get distracted, you don’t do your job properly and you lose money?”

“Ah lose apples. But yeah.”

“Puff puff.”

“Well, when you do that, you’re wasting time. Right?” Dash said. “Because you’re spacing out.”

Silence.

Applejack blinked. “Well, darn.”

“Right? Blows your mind, doesn’t it?”

“Puff puff puff puff.”

“Ah gotta give it to you, sugarcube—you win this one. Time’n space.” Applejack gave a low whistle, and it was enough to inflate four more balloons. “Never would’ve guessed.”

“Puff puff puff.”

“Betcha you did, Fluttershy.”

“Okay. I don’t get it.” At the other side of the room, Spike put down the broom and crossed his arms, little baby face scrunched up. “Do they understand what Fluttershy is saying? Is she actually participating in the conversation?”

“Frankly, darling, I haven’t got the slightest idea.” Rarity was setting up the tables. It was a fine and delicate job, and so, it was taking her forever to do anything. Looked pretty, though. “But she looks happy, and that’s all that counts, isn’t it?”

“I guess?” Spike squinted, arms still crossed. “But it also sort of sounds like they’re talking around her? I think? Maybe Fluttershy is just puffing. Maybe they’re just doing this on purpose.”

“I have the feeling that Applejack and Dash would talk around Fluttershy even if she wasn’t just puffing, I’d say,” Rarity mused. “They go by their own little wavelength sometimes, don’t they?”

“They really do.”

A pause.

“But we still love them,” Rarity added.

“Oh, of course, of course. Definitely.” Spike picked up the broom again. “Absolutely.”

“Hey there!” Pinkie popped up between them, and while Spike jumped in surprise, Rarity didn’t even flinch. When you were as jaded as her, some things you just got used to. “How’s it going? Rarity, do you want me to help with the tables? Spike?”

“I would love that, actually,” Rarity mused. “I’m having a little bit of trouble here, I’m afraid.”

“Sure!”

And here, Pinkie hopped away from Spike and next to Rarity. At no point whatsoever did she pick up a plate, fork, or glass—but as she moved down the table by her friend’s side, everything was suddenly in place. Pinkie Pie was never seen setting up a party; parties naturally happened around her, and she went with the flow. “Like this?”

Rarity didn’t look at her. “That’s just marvelous, yes. Say.” And she made one little spoon float in front of her and examined it left and right. “I have to admit—you seem to have outdone yourself this time, Pinkie Pie. This silverware is amazing!”

“Thank you!” Pinkie said, and she meant it. She always meant it, but this time more than usual. “It better be. It was really expensive! I got it at that shop you told me about. What do you think about the food?”

“It’s got the Canterlot Seal of Quality written all over it,” Rarity said, giving the many fritters, pastries, and cakes a nod of approval. “And that cake. I’m not one for sweets, but that might be your best work yet, Pinkie.”

“Right? I think I bought every last cherry in Canterlot for that one!” Pinkie swiped off some nonexistent sweat from her forehead. “It was really a lot of work.”

“A lot of money, too,” Rarity added. “How much did you spend on this, again?”

“As much as I needed! Sunset Shimmer hasn’t been to a true Equestrian Party in ages. And I think she’s never been in a true Pinkie Party either!” Pinkie made a pout. “I had to outdo myself. She deserves it!”

This made Rarity pause.

“Hmm,” she muttered, and then she looked at Pinkie for the first time. “Does she, I wonder?”

And Pinkie gave her a knowing smile. “Ooooh. I get what you mean!”

“What?” Spike made his way up to the mares. “What does she mean? What do you mean? Am I interrupting?”

Rarity ruffled Spike’s spikes. “No, dear.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“She means that Sunset Shimmer is weird,” Pinkie said. “I like weird! But she’s weird. I like her!”

“You like everypony, Pinkie,” Rarity said.

“I do! That’s why I’m always so happy. So you don’t like her?”

“Hmm. I don’t know,” Rarity said. “I wouldn’t go as far as doing that; poor thing has been through so much. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? I can’t tell. I can’t really read Sunset Shimmer, Pinkie Pie. And Spike. She really only talks to Twilight, doesn’t she?”

“Sunset Shimmer really got along with Twilight in the human world,” Spike said, leaning against his broom, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “So maybe she’s just really comfortable around her?”

“That would explain it, if she was just treating Twilight as a friend,” Rarity said. “But… Isn’t she a little too comfortable?”

“Ooooooh.” Pinkie pointed at Rarity with her hooves in a way that made it clear that, had she had fingers, she would be making a gun shape with them. “Oooooh. I get what you mean!”

Rarity nodded. “Sharp as always, aren’t we?”

“I try to be!”

“I’m really not,” Spike said. “What?”

Rarity looked at Spike. He was a baby dragon, after all—maybe some concepts were out of his reach. Or maybe not. He could be surprisingly mature, sometimes. “I don’t know if Sunset really enjoys Twilight’s company,” she said, “or if she’s just avoiding us. But either way, I think she has ulterior motives. And, if you pardon my bluntness, she doesn’t seem to be nearly as scared of Equestria as she should be, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. She’s really laid back!” Pinkie said. “Really relaxed. She’s cool!” Her ear twitched. “Oh, hey, my ear just twitched. We should go to the corridor now. But she’s cool!”

Spike and Rarity stared at her.

“Pinkie sense,” Pinkie explained. “Ear twitch-a-twitch means Sunset Shimmer is going to walk into us getting ready for her party! We have to go out there and distract her! That was the twitch, and…”

Pause.

Her ear a-twitched.

“There’s the a-twitch! See? Quick, come with me. Are the tables ready?” They were. “They are! Go, go, go!”

There’s only so many ways you can react to Pinkie Pie—so Rarity and Spike just blindly followed her, demonstrating once more that if the pink thunderclap had chosen to become a cult leader, she’d have had the entire world at her mercy.

It took them thirty seconds, to run from one side of the Throne Room to the other—dashing through Applejack and Fluttershy, who was still puffing to no avail—and then to the door, cross it, slam it shut, turn around.

Twilight and Sunset Shimmer were there.

“Hi!” Pinkie said, in a perfectly normal voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Arguing,” Sunset said, giving Pinkie a blank smirk. Then, she turned to Twilight. “My room?”

“Hi, girls,” Twilight said, not even looking at Sunset. “Hi, Spike. Why are you so out of breath?”

“Oh, just. Huff. You know. Hufff.” Rarity was leaning on Pinkie, grabbing her side. Her face was slightly pink. “Oh, dear. We just, huff, thought it’d be a good idea to go for a jog. Didn’t we, Spike?”

“Gggggggggggg,” Spike said.

And all the ponies stared.

Now, it was in times like this when Spike became aware of his hardships. Because, being a baby dragon? Amazing. Wouldn’t change it for nothing. Claws and fire, teeth galore, can’t wait to mature a little and becoming a natural-born killer. Oh, boy. Apex predator. That’ll be fun.

But in the friggin’ meantime, being a bipedal character in a world full of quadrupeds was physically imposing to say the least. Having hands sounds great in theory: you can sew, you can play yo-yo, and you can say “Cowabunga” in sign language. Whole spectrum of skills needed to life a happy life, right there.

But if you had to run?

Golly gee gosh, if you had to run. Holy petunias on a park bench. Mamma Mia, Love Me Dearly. You have half the limbs, half the horsepower, and none the attitude. What a pony saw as a “light jog” was, to Spike, half a heart attack and a great deal of suffocation.

And he would have loved to tell this to all the mares in front of him. He really would. But, he was sort of dying at the moment.

“Gggggggggggg.”

So all was left unsaid.

“Boy,” Pinkie eventually said, poking Spike with a hoof. Spike wasn’t as much gasping for air as he was trying to drink the atmosphere. “He is not in shape, is he?”

“I… can’t help but agree,” Rarity said. “Spike, are you okay?”

“Gggggggggggg.”

“He’s not okay,” Pinkie said.

“And I think he’s going to faint,” Rarity said. “Twilight, dear, maybe he should lay down for a little bit. Care to carry him to his room?”

Twilight smiled apologetically. “I’m… sort of in the middle of something. Sorry, Spike.” She looked to the right, tone forcibly sweet. “Sunset, look, what if we just—”

The sugar went out of her voice. Sunset Shimmer wasn’t there.

“SUNSET SHIMMER!”

“Well,” Pinkie eventually said, once Twilight left, running after Sunset like an angry god chasing a butterfly. “That was lucky! Good thing we ran here, though. They almost ruined the surprise! Great acting, Spike.”

“Gggggggggggg.”

“Ooh. A method actor, aren’t you?” Pinkie giggled. Then, she turned around and opened the doors. “Come on, guys! There’s still a lot to do! Rarity, do you want to help me with the invitations?”

Pinkie trotted to one of the smaller tables, and Rarity came after her after a shrug, although a bit slower. Spike didn’t move, and then Dash, AJ, and Fluttershy approached them. “What was that?” Dash asked.

“Pinkie sensed Sunset Shimmer was going to walk on us,” Rarity said. “So we rushed to stop them. Then, our dear Twilight ran after Sunset.”

“Why?” AJ asked.

“Because Sunset also ran.”

“After Twilight?”

“No, I’m afraid she just ran, Rainbow, dear.” Rarity shrugged. “I would love to give you an explanation, but that mare is still a mystery to me. Now, if you excuse me, I’m still not done with the tables, so I’ll be going. Good job distracting them out there, Spike.”

“Gggggggggggg.”

“Huh.” Once Rarity left, Dash arched an eyebrow and looked at AJ. “You know? Rarity’s right. Sunset is pretty weird.”

“Ah think she’s straightforward enough. She wants to run, she runs. Ah can respect that!”

“Yeah, but she never speak to us, does she?” Dash shook her own head. “Have you ever, you know, had any actual conversation with her? Does she talk? Does she listen?”

“She’s really close to Twilight.”

“Yes, but that’s all she does. Maybe she just doesn’t like us?”

“Eh. Ah dn’t know.” AJ shrugged. “Maybe she’s just bad at talkin’. Some ponies can’t really just go and have a nice conversation with the first pony they see, don’t you think? Conversations can be hard. My brother’s like that.”

“I guess. We should probably give her a chance.”

“Puff puff puff puff?”

Spike blinked, still feeling fire—not the cool one—in his chest, then managed to look at Fluttershy. She was, very clearly, talking to him. Her eyes were glimmering a bit. She looked happy. She still hadn’t finished up that one balloon.

One look at Dash, another at Applejack, and Spike knew they weren’t going to help him, because they were just giving him perfectly normal looks. So instead, he just turned to Fluttershy, and tried to say something. Anything.

“Gggggggggggg.”

Light jog, Rarity had said. Light jog.

“Puff puff?”

“Gggggggggggg.”

And Fluttershy made a happy noise, and made a little dance. Then she patted Spike’s head and flew away, smile in her face, merrily puffing on her endless balloon.

“Well, ain’t you a charmer!” AJ said, elbowing Spike and giving him a really meaningful wink. “Didn’t know you had that in ya!”

“Smooth, Spike,” Dash added. “That was pretty cool. Anyway, AJ—communication, really. Either Sunset’s bad at communication, or she doesn’t like us. And why wouldn’t she like us? We’re great!”

“Ah couldn’t agree more with you, Dash. We’re amazin’ at talkin’ and listenin’, at least.”

And they went away, leaving Spike alone to get his breath back, or maybe faint. No real way to know.

“You have to dinner with Celestia!” Twilight said.

“No,” Sunset said.

And that was about the whole argument, in seven words. Everything else was window dressing, and a healthy bit of repetition.

It is—quite ironically—one of the greatest tragedies of all time how Reality doesn’t seem to be good at drama, because scenes like this would be much, much better against a bleeding night sky, with maybe some thunder thrown in it to add variety. Two of the most brilliant, strong-willed mares of all time faced each other with no intention of ever giving up, and there wasn’t even a whisper of background music.

Had this been planned by someone with a better understanding of the power of narrative, a full orchestra would have gone bonkers as Twilight and Sunset bared their teeth at each other. A whimsical chorus would have sang in a language that wasn’t quite Latin. Fire would burst from the ground. Rain would pour its heart down. It would have been a powerful moment.

But Reality is not a writer. It’s more of a bureaucrat.

So it happened between the four white walls of Sunset’s chambers, and the mares mostly hushed at each other like little children.

“But you have to!”

“But I don’t wanna!”

For what felt like hours.

“Sunset.” Twilight was not a patient pony, and this entire situation would have made Fluttershy grit her teeth. “It doesn’t matter if you want it or not. What you need to understand is that—this is bigger than you!”

“How on Equestria is this bigger than me, if it literally involves nothing but me?”

“It involves Celestia!”

“I meant nothing that I care about!”

“Sunset.” Twilight sighed. “Look, I mean it. This is bigger than you. This involves—this is the first step of your new life. This is how you start solving all your problems. Can’t you see that you need this as much as Princess Celestia does?”

“No, I can’t. Because that’s not true.” There was no place to sit down in that room aside from the bed, so Sunset had been forced to stand all this time. She was starting to feel tired. “This is very definitely not the first problem that I need to solve, because this isn’t a problem. Celestia doesn’t matter at all, there are more important things going on, and I’m not talking to her.”

“But you know you have to!”

“Oh, come on.” Sunset rolled her eyes. “So I tried to invade Equestria with a demon army once, big deal. That is not enough of a reason to have a heartfelt talk about anything! It’ll just be awkward for everypony!”

This made Twilight blink. “Wait, you thought you’ll be apologizing for that?”

“…I’m not?”

“I honestly forgot that happened. I was more thinking on how you left her side and went through the mirror the first time, actually.”

There was a rare moment of quiet and peace amidst the thunder that was their screaming. Twilight and Sunset both fell into deep thoughts, in perfect coordination, for three seconds.

Then they talked at exactly the same time.

“So I don’t have to apologize.”

“So you have to apologize twice.”

Then again, ‘perfect coordination’ was severely overrated.

“Oh, come on!” Sunset was screaming, pacing around the room while looking up in a baffled yet elegant way. She was great at Angry Walking—it came naturally to most middle-aged ponies, alongside Squinting™. “Look, I don’t know why you refuse to believe me, but I’m positive that Celestia feels exactly the same way I do about this whole thing. She doesn’t care! Nopony cares! That happened, we both moved on, no reason to bring this stuff back!”

“I know you moved on, it’s just that you moved on without really solving anything!” Twilight said, following Sunset with her eyes as she paced. “That’s the worst way to move on from things! You’re better off retracing your steps and—DO YOU REALLY NEED TO SWING YOUR HIPS NOW OF ALL TIMES?!”

“WHAT, IS THAT ANNOYING YOU, TOO?!”

“AS A MATTER OF FACT, YES!”

“WHY ON EQUESTRIA WOULD ME WALKING SEXY ANNOY YOU?!”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE REALLY GOOD AT IT!”

“WELL, IT’S NOT MY—Gosh, do you really think that?” Sunset stopped mid-step and looked at her own rump. “I was afraid I’d lost my touch. Doesn’t it look weird when I turn left?”

“No, no! It looks amazing!” Twilight shook her head, then got closer to Sunset to examine her rump, too. “I mean, it’s really impressive. I have no idea how you do it.”

“Why, thanks. That’s so kind of you to say.” Sunset shrugged, and wiggled her tail a little. “I don’t know, I just did it all the time when I was younger, and I guess it stuck. Have you tried it?”

“Sometimes? When nopony’s watching. But I can’t quite get the angle right, I think.”

“Oh, that’s just—it’s all about your knee, really. The hip is going to go up no matter what, that’s why it’s there, but you need to force it a little. See?” Sunset showed her. “Look at my profile. When I walk, I do this?”

“Like this?”

“No, no. You need to lift it a little more—that’s it! See? Try it now. Take two steps?”

Twilight walked a little, then her eyes got wide. “Oh. Wow. That feels weird.”

“But it looks good!” Sunset said, winking. “It takes some practice, but before you know it, you’ll be doing it all the time. You’d be surprised at how differently some ponies treat you when you swing your hips the right way.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Twilight wiggled her tail, and took two more steps. “I can’t help but think Dash would tease me about it, though.”

“Oh, leave her be. This kind of thing does wonders for one’s confidence.”

“Hmm-hmm.” Twilight looked at her own rump. “I guess. You know what else builds confidence?”

“What?”

“Apologizing.”

Silence.

“I AM NOT HAVING DINNER WITH—”

Rinse and repeat, for forty-five more minutes.

In the end, each mare managed to explain her thesis in full, which was never an easy thing when one’s too busy screaming. It went like this:

Twilight thought that Sunset’s first truly evil act, the one that had messed up her life at the start, had been betraying Celestia (twice). The only way to set right what once was wrong was to do it completely, and so, no matter how hard or awkward it went, she had to solve things with the Princess. At dinner. Ask for forgiveness, be forgiven, and start her path towards becoming a new pony.

Sunset thought that was a load of horseshoes, because what had messed up her life had been living under a bridge for over ten years. She’d betrayed Celestia as a little filly, and in all honesty, who cared by this point? It was better to deal with the real stuff—her (guaranteed) trauma, the fact that she had no home or family, all the time she’d wasted in the human lands, all the things she’d missed here in Equestria. She didn’t want Celestia’s forgiveness, and Celestia wouldn’t want to grant it anyway. For goodness’ sake, the Princess didn’t even like Sunset, so—

“Wait a minute.” Twilight frowned, lowering her voice. “What do you mean, Princess Celestia doesn’t like you? She likes everypony.”

“She really doesn’t. I’m kind of destroying her kingdom just by existing, Twilight.” Sunset was fuming. “Didn’t she suggest that you kick me out of Equestria and back to the human world? Like, right after meeting me?”

“She wasn’t suggesting it, she was just acknowledging the fact that it was an option,” Twilight said. “Because she’s wise enough to understand that sometimes, we have to make hard choices. But that’s—”

“Yeah, hard choices. Good thing it’s not a hard choice for her, though.”

“Sunset!” Twilight kicked the ground, to give her words more emphasis. “It’s that what this is about? Are you angry because the Princess suggested that we could stop Flower Fall by sending you back through the portal?”

“No,” Sunset said. Then she thought about it. “Well, maybe? It’s a factor. But mostly, I’m saying that I don’t want to talk with her because it’s useless. And I don’t want to. And I’m not going to do it.”

“This is all a huge misunderstanding, and exactly the reason why you should talk to her.” Twilight got closer to Sunset, and hugged her by the shoulders. “Can’t you see it? The mare you are today, the pony you became—it’s the little moments that make us, Sunset. You think nopony can forgive you, that everypony will turn on you. Because you’re projecting. You can’t trust Celestia, you can’t trust anypony, because you betrayed her all those years ago.”

Sunset made a face. “…I trust you,” she said.

“That’s really sweet. But precisely because you trust me, you need to have dinner with Celestia.”

“No.” Sunset got away from Twilight’s grip. “Precisely because I trust you, your entire argument is baseless, and I don’t need to have dinner with Celestia. You want to know what made me what I am today? Years of eating squirrels to survive. That’s what made the Sunset you’re seeing. So no. I’m sorry, but no. This is my final word.”

And here, Sunset took a deep breath, and said her piece with total, absolute conviction.

“I will not have dinner with Celestia.”

“I’m glad you could find time in your schedule to join me for dinner tonight, Sunset Shimmer,” Celestia said three hours later. “I hope you find the food to your liking.”

Sunset glared, and Twilight smiled.

It was going to be a long evening.

To set up the scene, one must never bring up the word “cozy” when describing the Dining Hall. Because it was cozy, but not entirely. Not where it mattered.

“Cozy” means many things, but to most, it means a crackling fire, the smell of soup and meat in the air, a feeling of warmth, a sleeping dog. “Cozy” means home, “cozy” means security. “Cozy” doesn’t mean seven hundred million servants waiting in the background, ready to serve you at a moment’s notice. “Cozy” doesn’t mean cold, stark walls, and total lack of character. Money can’t buy cozy.

But still, one could argue. Of all the extravagant rooms in Canterlot, the Dining Hall was the least egregious. Barely golden curtains. Ivory table, yes, but only moderately big. And the servants, while pretty, weren’t supermodels. And it smelled a little of food.

So.

Cozy.

For Canterlot, the Dining Hall was cozy. Even though “cozy” was the worst way to describe it.

“I am truly sorry I could not accept your invitation this afternoon,” Celestia said as the food was brought, along with their most expensive wine. “I’m afraid my schedule couldn’t allow it.”

“Oh, Princess.” Sunset gave Celestia her best smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I did not mind that.”

Twilight kicked Sunset under the table, and exactly at the same time Celestia nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. I trust Luna had no issues forwarding my message, then.”

Sunset’s smile didn’t falter. “Actually, she—”

“Didn’t,” Twilight cut, her voice sharp. “Have any issues. She didn’t have any issues. And she said her piece without trouble.” She beamed at Sunset. “Right?”

“Depends on what you consider ‘her piece’. She sorta tried to murd—”

“Sunset Shimmer,” Twilight interrupted again, speaking slightly louder now, “was really looking forward to this dinner, Princess. We’re glad you accepted our invitation, sort of.”

Celestia didn’t seem surprised by this. “I see,” she said. “I’m all ears, Sunset Shimmer.”

A pause.

“Your sister tried to murd—”

“After all,” Twilight continued. “You two haven’t seen each other in years.

“I can’t help but notice you keep interrupting Sunset Shimmer, Twilight,” Celestia mused as she took the fork and knife and started to work on her salad. “…Although it is true that we haven’t seen each other in years.” She took a bite. “So I suppose you have a point there.”

“Exactly!” Twilight said. “I have a point. I’m just, uh, I’m really good at pointing this kind of thing out.”

“Well. I assume you are.” Celestia took a small bite of her salad, and swallowed politely. “Seeing how you just did.”

“See? Makes perfect sense!” Twilight looked to her right. “Now, Sunset, dear?”

Sunset had started eating, too—and drinking. She hated wine with a passion, so she drank as much as she could without accidentally waterboarding herself. “Yes, Twilight, dearest?” she asked.

“Do you have anything to say?”

“Hmm.” Another gulp of wine. She took a bite of the salad, too, now that she was at it. “Well. Actually, yeah. Princess Celestia?”

“Yes?”

“Your sister tried to—”

“Anything to say after all these years you haven’t seen each other?” Twilight said, again slightly louder. “That is not going to start any new feuds with the crown?”

“Twilight.” Celestia didn’t raise her voice. Hers was a perfectly calm, perfectly controlled voice, and so the temperature seemed to drop three degrees the moment she talked. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but I am no fool. There’s no need to hide your intentions; I know exactly what is happening.”

Twilight’s ears dropped flat against her head. “I…”

“You want Sunset Shimmer and I to make amends for everything that happened all those years ago,” Celestia continued. She looked at Sunset Shimmer, who was still drinking. “The betrayal. The second, more elaborate betrayal. The fact that she’s destroying Equestria as we speak.”

Twilight looked down. “Yes,” she said. “I’m sorry, Princess.”

And to this, Celestia smiled, and visibly relaxed her shoulders. “You’re trying to do what you think is best, Twilight Sparkle. There’s no need to apologize for that.”

“How did you know?” Twilight asked. “Was it that obvious?”

“Yes. Also, you spent forty-five minutes yelling about this in Sunset’s chambers three hours ago,” Celestia said. She went back to her plate, taking small bites between sentences. “It was hard to ignore.”

“So.” Twilight sighed, and then—finally—took a bite of her own meal. It was pretty good. “I guess there’s no need to be subtle, then?”

“No, my dear.”

“Aaaaand we’re ignoring the fact that Luna tried to murder me,” Sunset pointed out.

“Well, at least that means that there’ll be no miscommunication,” Twilight said, taking another bite. “I helped Starlight Glimmer with this exact same situation long ago, and there was a bit of trouble in that field back then. So that’s a good thing!”

“We’re absolutely ignoring the fact that Luna tried to murder me. This is not going to be addressed.”

“No miscommunication,” Celestia agreed. “We can talk openly, and from the heart.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Princess,” Twilight said. “So, will you forgive Sunset Shimmer? So she can start anew, and move on with her life, and solve all her problems?”

“No. I won’t.”

And then, silence.

A really, really long silence.

“You should really eat your salad, Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia added, taking another bite. “It will get warm otherwise.”

Sunset looked at Twilight, at Celestia, then at her own wrinkly hooves. Then her horn flashed and her cup levitated towards her. “Well,” she said. “This just keeps getting better, doesn’t it.”

Twilight was dumbfounded. “I don’t—Princess, I don’t think I understand.”

Celestia nodded. “I am not forgiving Sunset Shimmer,” she repeated.

“Yep.” Sunset tapped the table, glass of wine floating next to her face. “Story checks out. Can I go now?”

Twilight didn’t even look at her. “No, you can’t. This is important. This is for your sake.”

“D’aaaw. That’s sweet. Also, shoot. Also, d’aaaw.”

“I can’t forgive what, in good conscience, can’t be entirely blamed on Sunset Shimmer herself, Twilight,” Celestia explained. She was almost finished with her salad. “While admittedly I didn’t notice this until recently, she was bound to betray me at some point. And please eat your food; it’d be terrible if it went to waste.”

“Yeah, Twilight.” Sunset poked her on the side, face suddenly serious. “Eat your vegetables. You’re too thin, you need some more meat on those bones. You’re still growing!”

“I have to agree with Sunset Shimmer here, I’m afraid,” Celestia mused, eyeing Twilight like a farmer eyes a turkey. “You do seem to look unhealthy. Are you taking proper care of yourself?”

“Oh, she definitely isn’t,” Sunset said, frowning, chugging some more wine. “Don’t you see those bags under her eyes, Princess? I bet she’s not sleeping properly.”

Twilight blinked. “Um.”

“A good rest is fundamental for both the mind and the body, my dear Twilight.” Celestia’s horn flashed, and some more food was put on Twilight’s plate. “Here. Please, be my guest. I worry about you.”

“Yes, yes, I keep telling you.” Sunset’s horn also flashed, and more food was brought into Twilight’s plate. “All that time in the Library, reading in the dark? Can’t be good for you. Now, eat.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Twilight squinted. “Can we...? Can we focus on Sunset’s redemption here for a bit, and ignore my eating habits? If you don’t mind?”

“Sure, as long as you eat,” Sunset said, staring. “I want to see you chew, young lady.”

“Ugh.”

“All right. That’s my girl.” Sunset patted Twilight’s hoof once the latter started chewing in an overly exaggerated way, and then turned to Celestia. Her voice was noticeably less warm when she spoke next. “So,” she said. “Bound to betray Equestria.”

Celestia nodded. “Indeed.”

“Because…” Sunset made a rolling gesture with her hoof. “…Evil runs through my veins?”

Celestia’s eyes sparkled slightly. “I’m not qualified to say,” she said, as she placed down her fork and her knife. The plate in front of her was empty. “But it is true that sooner or later, no matter what, you would have tried to kill us all, yes.” A pause. “Or enslave us. Depends on your character.”

“I’m more the enslaving type.”

“I see.”

“Also, that’s an interesting thing to say.” Sunset looked especially middle-aged, now. It was something in her eyes, in her posture. “I would have liked to know that before spending twelve years being routinely stabbed, Princess.”

“I’m sorry. I would have acted—but as I said, I didn’t know this at the time.” Celestia sighed. “It’s a mistake that has cost me greatly, Sunset Shimmer. Believe me: you did not pay the greatest price in this.”

“Yes.” Sunset nodded. “That is something you say when you haven’t been twelve years being routinely stabbed, Princess.”

“You’d be surprised,” Celestia muttered. “Many talented unicorns that excelled in magic have tried to take over Equestria at least once, Sunset Shimmer. In the last twelve years alone… How many, my dear Twilight?”

Twilight swallowed her mouthful of salad and gave it a bit of thought. Trixie, Starlight Glimmer, Sombra, Luna… “I’ve honestly lost count,” she admitted.

“Exactly.” Celestia looked at Sunset. “You’re just one of them. Being a student under my wing did nothing but… worsen the situation.”

“Wait. So, talent implies megalomaniac tendencies?” Sunset arched an eyebrow. “Because if that’s the case, I’m flattered, but—”

“Not exactly. Certain conditions are required.” Celestia looked lovingly at Twilight. “My dear Twilight,” she said. “If I may ask, how is Twilight Velvet doing lately?”

“Oh? Uh.” Twilight blinked. “Um. Well. She’s doing fine, Princess. I saw her earlier this week. She’s working on her new book.” She saw that Sunset was looking at them with what might as well have been a giant interrogation sign floating on top of her head, so she said, “My mother. Twilight Velvet is my mother.”

Celestia nodded. “I’m glad to hear she’s doing fine. Now, Sunset Shimmer, if you don’t mind me asking—what about your mother? Did you visit her, too, now that you’re back in Equestria?”

Absolute silence.

Sunset threw away the glass and just went straight for the wine bottle. “Nope,” she said. “Not going there. Not a conversation I’m willing to have. Nope.” And she started drinking.

Loudly.

“And,” Celestia pointed—the noise Sunset was making as she swallowed the wine was something like CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG—and then looked at Twilight, “there you have it. That’s the reason why Sunset Shimmer was destined to take over the world.”

Twilight looked at Sunset. “…Because she’s an alcoholic?”

“Filial resentment.”

Speaking with Celestia was an exercise in politeness, Twilight had found a really long time ago. One felt the urge to act in an overly formal manner, but she always had the upper hand. Usually, Twilight was pretty good at understanding what Celestia meant, but now and then, she would need a second or two to really grasp a particular concept.

This was one of those cases.

“…Mommy issues?” Twilight finally said. “You mean that Sunset—you mean that every villain I’ve fought had mommy issues?”

Celestia smiled. “Yes.”

CHUG CHUG CHUG. CHUG. Chug, chug, chugggg. “Blorgh.” Sunset finished up the bottle of wine and half-burped, half-gagged. A servant quickly approached her with a new one, and she grabbed it. “Aaah, hah. Haaaah. Oh, gosh. Oh, sweet heavens. My throat burns.” Her eyes were red. “I think I’m dying. I’m never doing this again—”

“Sunset,” Twilight said, looking at her. “Do you have mommy issues?”

“—AAAAND BOTTOMS UP.” CHUG CHUG CHUG CH—

“A lack of guidance in one’s early life, combined with an abnormal level of magical talent, can warp one’s perceptions of the world,” Celestia said. She grabbed her glass of water and took a small sip, then eyed Sunset. “Or, one’s morals. I have found that every major villain seems, indeed, to have a story of filial resentments… And that most talented unicorns with filial resentments become villains.”

This gave Twilight some pause. “So that’s why I didn’t try to invade Equestria?”

“Yes. You have a great relationship with your parents; that’s why you never tried to kill anypony.” Celestia shrugged. “Sunset Shimmer, however… I can not blame her for what she did. She was bound to do it.”

CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG CHUG.

“But… Your sister is one of those villains, Princess,” Twilight said. “Doesn’t that mean that you, too…? Actually, now that I think about it, do you even have—”

“Oh, look!” Celestia interrupted, turning to the left, where a new servant had just appeared. “A distraction!”

CHUG CHUG CHUGG chug chug chugggg. “BLORGH. WHAT.”

Twilight frowned. “Princess. I—”

“WAIT IS THAT A DISTRACTION.”

“It is,” Celestia said.

“GREAT. SOMEONE BRING ME A BUCKET.”

Quick as lightning, the servants danced around the table, taking empty plates—giving Sunset a bucket—and serving up the second course: Boiled daisies, with vanilla sauce. Not precisely the classiest of meals; this was the kind of food you ate in a fast-food restaurant. “Your favorite,” the Princess explained when Twilight blinked at the meal.

“…It is,” Twilight admitted, looking from the meal to Celestia. “Or, it was. When I was just—”

“—A little foal.” Celestia chuckled softly, in a way only she could make elegant. In the background, Sunset was regurgitating loudly into her bucket. [4] “Well, this is a meal better suited for little foals, rather than elegant dinners, don’t you think?”

[4] BLOAARGHBRLARBAGHBBLRAAAARGH.
BLOARGHBARGHOOAAAGHAARGGHHHBOAARRGH. BOARGHBORGHGGGGHOOORGHAAAAH.

“I guess,” Twilight replied, laughing a little, too. “Wow, Princess. It’s been a long time since I ate this. It’s so nostalgic.” She took a spoonful. “Hmm. And good!”

“I’m glad to hear this. I was telling the truth earlier, you know?” Celestia took a spoonful herself, though she didn’t make any noises of appreciation. “I did miss our dinners. We used to have them three times a week, when you were my personal student, way before Ponyville.” She sighed. “Those days… Sometimes, I miss them a little.” A pause. “Don’t tell Luna, though.”

“I won’t.” Twilight played a bit with her food. Just a bit. “And, me too. A little.” Then, just to make sure, she added: “this is really good. Thank you, Princess.”

“You’re more than welcome.”

And after that, they ate in silence for a little bit. The food was good—not as good as the salad, but it wasn’t about the flavor, at this point. They both enjoyed the meal for what it was.

It was a sweet moment.

And maybe this is what truly started it all.

Because there’s an art in eating in silence. When conversation dies out, only the click-clack of the cutlery against the plates is left, and its volume is raised tenfold. Every little movement is made more apparent, every little thought is suddenly easy to read.

Eating in silence, the mood becomes visible, tangible. Eating in silence is born out of awkwardness, but also comes when talking is not necessary.

And with Twilight and Celestia, those click-clacks harmonized.

So maybe this little moment, this small pause where nopony did nothing but eat and enjoy themselves, maybe this is what really caused it all. More than Sunset discovering that photo of her old self, more than Twilight asking her to cross the mirror. This is what started it.

Or maybe it was the sweet scent in the air, the petals falling down outside the window.

Whatever it was, Sunset noticed. Her face hardened. Her throat was raw—the bucket was pretty much full—and her mouth tasted bitter. So she didn’t share the moment. She just witnessed it, saw how well Twilight and Celestia got along, how deep their bond went.

Almost like a mother and a child, really. Compared to how Sunset had got along with Principal Celestia, there was a world of difference…

“You’re wrong,” Sunset said, with a voice that did not sound like hers.

The spell was broken, and Celestia and Twilight blinked back into reality, away from their meal. “I’m sorry?” Celestia said.

But Twilight, who knew Sunset better, just reached to her with a hoof. “Sunset?” she whispered. “You okay? You sound a little—”

“I said you’re wrong,” Sunset repeated, a little louder. She wasn’t exactly feeling angry, but she wasn’t calm either. For some reason, she was keenly aware of the sweet smell around them, something sweeter than the simple vanilla sauce on the boiled daisies. “About your theory.”

“My theory?”

“Me. Betraying Equestria.” Sunset took a deep breath, but that only filled her lungs with that sweet scent. She coughed, then talked again. “It wasn’t bound to happen.”

“I was just—”

“I met my human counterpart,” Sunset blurted out. “She wasn’t a… She never did anything. Like betraying Equestria, or the human dimension. She’s… She’s a successful woman. I saw it on the newspaper.”

Celestia looked at Sunset, with eyes as calm as a pond in winter. “I see.”

“So I wasn’t bound to do anything like that—family issues aside, that wasn’t my destiny or anything like that.” Sunset hadn’t touched her boiled daisies. She wasn’t really hungry. “So you were wrong.”

“That’s… I didn’t know that,” Twilight said, speaking carefully. She eyed the Princess, but she never stopped facing Sunset. “That’s actually an interesting point. Maybe your relationship with your parents isn’t as important as we thought it was? That would make sense. Applejack doesn’t have parents either, and she’s never tried to take over the world.”

Both Sunset and Celestia looked at Twilight, glares equally hard.

Twilight blinked. “…Well, except for that time. But that doesn’t count, does it?”

“It does.”

“Well, then I guess I just give up.”

“Sunset Shimmer,” Celestia said, looking back at the aforementioned pony, tone polite as it can be. “I did not know about your human counterpart, but I’m glad she’s living a good life. However…”

“Yeah.” Sunset looked at the wine, then at Celestia. She did not grab the bottle. “You won’t forgive me either way, will you?”

And Celestia had to close her eyes, and look down. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“You aren’t.”

“Um.” Twilight looked to both mares, and her ears went flat against her head. Her voice sounded tiny, insecure. Not fit for a princess—fit, rather, for a little foal. One who enjoys boiled daisies with vanilla. “Sunset? Princess?”

“I am doing what’s best, Sunset Shimmer,” Celestia said, still avoiding her gaze. “I hope you understand. This is not for—”

“Oh, I get it all right. But don’t worry, I’m not angry.” Sunset rubbed her muzzle, to cover her face for a second or two. “I just wanted to make that clear. You just don’t like me. There’s no reason to excuse yourself, or make up a reason for it.”

“Um. Sunset.” Twilight touched Sunset’s shoulder. She did not back away. “I think you… might have had a little too much to drink?”

“I think the same, my dear Twilight,” Celestia chimed. “Sunset Shimmer, I think you’ve had enough.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “I did not.”

Twilight felt the tension leave her body. A little, at least. Sunset had sounded like Sunset again, there. “You drank two bottles of wine in little under twenty minutes,” she said.

“Well, that’s hardly anything if I’m trying to be an alcoholic,” Sunset retorted. “That’s a long-time goal of mine, remember? I can’t just give up like that.”

“I appreciate that you have some sort of inner logic, but I really hate how it works, Sunset.”

“You’re lovely too, Twilight.”

“I would prefer it if you didn’t drink anymore tonight, Sunset Shimmer,” Celestia said, going back to her plate. “While wine might be good in smaller quantities, too much might—”

“Hey, you only live once. Better to live it to its fullest.” Sunset grabbed the bottle and filled her glass, then raised it. “You know what this lacks? A cherry. Would give it the punch it really needs.” She nodded at Twilight. “Want to try it?”

Twilight made a face. “I don’t really do wine.”

“Come on. Just a sip?”

“No.”

“No.”

A pause. That second ‘no’ hadn’t come from Twilight. It hadn’t come from Sunset, either. And it had sounded surprisingly harsh.

Celestia coughed into her hoof, fluttering her wings ever so slightly. “I mean,” she said, when the other two didn’t stop staring. “I… Would rather you didn’t, Twilight. Wine is not good for you.”

“Hey, you have to try it at some point,” Sunset said, swinging the glass side to side. “Why not Canterlot Wine? It’s the best.”

“She really shouldn’t,” Celestia said.

Sunset pretty much shoved the glass into Twilight’s face. “Come on!” she said. “You have to live a little, Twilight. You’re too sheltered.”

“No. No, she doesn’t.” Celestia’s horn flashed, and Sunset lost her grip on the glass of wine, which instead floated all the way back to the Princess. “And she isn’t. She’s perfectly safe and healthy as it is.”

“Um,” Twilight said.

“What? How is this—ugh.” Sunset made a huff. “Princess, did you know Twilight has never had a boyfriend yet?” she asked.

“Um,” Twilight said.

“That is not important,” Celestia said, and her words made it clear this was final. “Twilight is still growing, she’s working towards saving Equestria every day, and she can’t afford to damage her mind with alcohol.” She put the glass of wine down by her side, then smiled at Twilight. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she said: “But… seriously? Never?”

“Okay, why are we talking about this, exactly?”

“Never!” Sunset said, slamming the table with her hooves. “Can you believe it, face as pretty as hers? She’s never been with anypony!”

“Well, I.” Celestia fought back a smile. “Why. That’s. Such a waste.” Then, she frowned ever-so-slightly. “But you surely have your fair amount of suitors, don’t you, Twilight?”

Twilight was slowly but surely getting redder by the moment. “I don’t—this is not something to discuss, and what I do with my life…”

“I can not believe it, no matter how many times I hear it,” Sunset said, shaking her head. “Twilight Sparkle, one day you’ll open your wings and fly, and you’ll wish you’d started sooner. Trust me: youth only lasts so long.”

“You’re set on ignoring anything I say regarding this issue, aren’t you?”

“Now, now.” Celestia said, going back to her plate. “Nothing wrong with being a late bloomer, Sunset Shimmer. Twilight is free to do whatever she wants.”

“Thank you!” Twilight said, raising her hooves to the ceiling. “Seriously, this is not a—”

“Ah-hah!” Sunset pointed at Celestia. “See? See what I was talking about before, saying she was sheltered? You pamper her!”

This made Celestia pause, and widen her eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You pamper Twilight!” Sunset repeated. “You’re not letting her grow up!”

Twilight squinted and rested her head on her hooves. “You two know I’m an adult, right? An actual adult. I have agency.”

“I am letting her grow up at her own pace,” Celestia said, still calm and collected. “Because I understand that she’s an individual, and we can’t force her to do things she doesn’t want to.”

“Oh, please. First the wine, now this… Why do you think she doesn’t have a boyfriend? Because you won’t let her!”

“I have, like, all the agency. I love my agency.”

“I am not guilty of Twilight not having a boyfriend,” Celestia said. “I merely… take care of her.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t,” Sunset said. “Maybe that’s exactly the problem here, that you keep doing this, choosing everything for her, always knowing what’s better! Maybe that’s not what Twilight needs!”

“I disagree.”

“Of course you disagree. But that doesn’t make it right! She can—she’s entitled to live her own life, Princess! She doesn’t have to answer to your every whim, to, to live under your shadow!”

A pause.

Twilight licked her lips. “This… is not about me, is it?”

“You are not doing this for Twilight,” Sunset continued, staring at Celestia with eyes that had no love in them. “You’re doing this for yourself. Because you’re alone. Because you want Twilight to be exactly like you.”

Celestia didn’t flinch. She was too old, to powerful, to flinch at words anymore. She had too much composure, too much self-control.

But in that moment, she wished she could. She wished she wasn’t forced to be the bigger pony in every situation. She wished she was, if only, a little less wise for a moment.

And she said: “Sunset Shimmer. I understand what you’ve been through, even if you don’t believe me. I understand that sometimes we can’t be held responsible for our actions, when the world has shaped us in a certain way. But I can, and I will, hold you responsible for what you do on your own volition.”

Sunset hardened. “Shut up.”

“You don’t want me to help Twilight. But I will do that.” Celestia kept her tone casual. Relaxed. “Because she still has the chance to be better than I ever was. She already ascended, and that was but the start of her journey. She has potential, and she’s working to fulfill it, and I will never leave her side until she does that.”

“You’re making a mistake. She doesn’t need—”

“And,” Celestia interrupted, “as much as that pains you, as much as that makes her grow further away from you, there’s no way you could convince me to do otherwise, and you know it. Because the only way for Twilight to be like you is if I abandoned her, and I would never do that to her. Because you being unhappy is not an excuse to drag Twilight down with you.”

Sunset took a deep breath. She shaking a little. “I don’t want to drag her down.”

“But you do, because it’s too late for you.” Celestia never blinked. “I’m sorry. I’m truly, truly sorry. But that’s the truth. It didn’t have to be this way—in other life, I’m sure you could have been a good mare, but—”

“Good?” Sunset bared her teeth. “’Good’?! You look at me, you see what I went through, you see how I am, and you say I could have been ‘good’?! I could have been much more than good! I could have been great!”

You could have been great.

The words burned.

Sunset stopped, immediately, but her voice echoed through the hall, saying the words back at her, reminding her of what she’d just said.

“I could have been great,” she repeated. This time, a whisper. And she looked down, at her own hooves. At her wrinkled, fragile hooves.

In that moment, she looked older than ever.

And so, without saying anything else, she got up and left the room, running.

“Twilight,” Celestia said when Twilight tried to go after her. “I think she needs to be left alone.”

Twilight looked at the door—Sunset had left it open—and then back at Celestia. “But, Princess, I—”

“I’m sorry,” Celestia repeated, and she meant it. “I’m truly sorry, but this—it had to happen. I believe in redemption, Twilight Sparkle, but I also believe Sunset Shimmer is beyond saving.”

Twilight felt something cold in her stomach. “But,” she said. “But, Princess…”

“I know. I’m sorry. But what you think will help her is not what she wants.” Celestia sighed. “I’m not sure if it’s what she needs. She’s best left alone, because nothing that you can do will truly help her. Sunset Shimmer believes in redeeming herself, but her definition of redemption is not the same as yours. You have to give up on her.”

Twilight didn’t stutter. “But she’s my friend.”

And Celestia nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m apologizing. It’s never easy.”

And she meant it.

Twilight felt so tense she could snap. Celestia pointed at her chair, signaling her to sit down and finish her meal, but Twilight could still hear Sunset Shimmer’s hoofsteps as she ran away through the corridors of the Castle.

The thing is, Celestia was right. It didn’t take a lot to realize that Sunset Shimmer’s efforts hadn’t been exactly focused on getting her life straight. If anything, she was more centered on messing it up all over again, only this time, in a different way.

So the smartest option, the safest option, would be to listen to her mentor. To let Sunset go, maybe even to ask her to go back to the human dimension. That would solve everything. That would make everything right in Twilight’s life again.

But that would mean she had made a mistake, and that she had abandoned a friend.

So Twilight looked at Celestia, Sunset’s hoofsteps growing weaker in the background, and in that moment she made a choice. She made a choice out of love, out of kindness. Because she was the Princess of Friendship, and she couldn’t leave Sunset like that. It was a mistake. It would mean nothing but trouble, maybe something that not even Twilight could fix. It would mean putting her pride as a friend above her own reason.

But here’s the thing about pride:

It tells you the fall was worth it.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” Twilight said. And she turned around, and ran after Sunset Shimmer.

Princess Celestia was left alone, her meal, now cold, abandoned. But she didn’t get up—she just stood there, staring at the door, staring at the space where Twilight had been just a couple minutes ago. And she, too, looked older than ever.

“It didn’t go well, I take?”

Celestia blinked, and looked to her side. From the shadows came out Luna, grave expression on her face—although she was looking at Celestia, not at the door.

Celestia just sighed. “It didn’t,” she said. “I believe it’s my fault.”

“You said the truth.”

“But sometimes I wonder if the truth is worth saying. I love Twilight Sparkle, Luna. To me, she’s like…” The words choked her. “She’s dear to me,” she said. “I only want the best of her. To see her grow to her full potential.”

Luna nodded. “And you fear Sunset Shimmer might hurt her.”

“I don’t fear it, Luna,” Celestia said. And her eyes went to the door once more. “I know it.”

And after this, none of them said a word for a very long time.

“Hey, did they tell you how I tried to murder that mare this very morning?”

“Really not the moment, Luna.”

Twilight wasn’t the most athletic pony out there, but Sunset Shimmer was rather middle-aged, and had just drank two entire bottles of wine. Twilight caught her just before she reached the Throne Room.

“Sunset!” she yelled, and Sunset didn’t have the strength to walk away. “Sunset,” Twilight repeated, nuzzling Sunset’s face with concern. “Are you—are you okay?”

Sunset said nothing. She just looked away.

“Sunset, we have to talk about this.”

“We don’t.”

“You said a lot of things back there, and I think I can help you, but I need you to talk to me.”

“I told you eating with Celestia was a mistake.”

Twilight made a face. “The Princess was… a little unreasonable.”

A pause.

Sunset blinked, and looked at Twilight. “A little.”

“I mean—”

“Didn’t she sort of insult everything I stand for? I think she insulted everything I stand for. But, you know. A little.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, that’s twisting the facts. Look, she… worries a lot about me, that’s all. It’s just that, well. She’s like a mother to me, right?” She blushed a little here, and smiled. “And—gosh, this is embarrassing to say—maybe she’s just a tiny bit worried about me growing up. But that’s all!”

Sunset sighed. “That’s not really all. That’s not a good way to treat you. And you’re exactly like her.”

Twilight blinked. “What?”

“That’s how you’re treating me, too. Pampering me, sort of. And I don’t really know if I want that.”

“Sunset Shimmer.” Twilight sighed, and nuzzled Sunset again. She pressed a hoof against the door that led to the Throne Room. “Look, this isn’t working. We need to have a heart-to-heart, you and I. And I mean a true heart-to-heart.”

Sunset moaned.

“No. Hey. Listen to me.” Twilight forced Sunset to look her dead in the eye. “I really mean it. An actual talk. No alcohol, no distractions, no changing topics all of a sudden because we get distracted. I’m sure that if we just share an honest talk, we can—”

“SURPRIIIIISEEEEEE!!

The doors to the Throne Room opened, and a cavalcade of ponies, confetti, and party flavors practically fell on top of Sunset and Twilight. The Throne Room was decorated to the brim—posters, games all over the place, food and drinks galore. Every pony wore a party hat. There was a seemingly lost bankpony wandering around the background.

All their friends were there, even Spike, and they were all grinning and looking at Sunset. The words “SUNSET SHIMMER WELCOME PARTY” were written on every single banner in the room.

“It’s a welcome party!” Pinkie explained, then, just to make sure that the whole gesture didn’t fly over anypony’s head.

And after this, silence.

Twilight, eyes wide, looked at her friends. Then, she looked at Sunset, and saw she was almost grinning. And horror crept into her. “No,” she whispered.

“Yes,” Sunset whispered back.

“Sunset, don’t you dare—”

“I’m sorry, Twilight,” Sunset said, this time a little louder, unmistakable smile on her face. “It’s just—are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“No no no we’re not doing this we’re not doing this—”

“BECAUSE WHAT I SEE HERE.”

The crowd started cheering.

“DON’T YOU DARE.”

The crowd cheered louder.

“IS A HELL OF A DISTRACTION.”

The crowd went bonkers.

“NO!”

Yes.

And that was it.

A lonely mare, reading alone. Old demons by her side, and she feels the lack of warmth around her. Nostalgia overwhelms her, but there are no good memories. There’s a sweet scent in the air.

She sighs.

She opens a new book.

She finds the answer.

The past is a scary place, but it will always lead up to the present—and now Moondancer has seen it. Because she used to read, back in those days, and if you read, if you study, you learn. And if you learn, you don’t make the same mistakes twice.

Moondancer comes back to reality, with a snap not unlike that of bones breaking. Nostalgia will overwhelm again in no time, but it won’t matter, because she’s really found it. She knows what Flower Fall does. She knows what Flower Falls is.

It’s Time.

It’s Time coming back, overlapping with itself. Old demons. Old memories. Nostalgia. And every pony now remembers, and in so, they forget.

Canterlot is literally haunted by its past.

And Flowers Fall.

Fifth Chapter - The Girl of My Dreams
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Sunsettle For This

Fifth Chapter - The Girl of My Dreams

On the morning after the Welcome Party, Twilight woke up with something that wasn’t quite a hangover, but got awfully close, and she thought about Time. More specifically, she thought about how it always seems to find a way to mess with you: when you want something, Time slows down. When you don’t want it, it couldn’t go faster. [1]

[1] This line of thought—that one of the basic elements of the universe is sentient and out to get you—is rather common among living beings. Cosmology is always the last science to develop in any society, because everybody thinks the world orbits around them.

And for once, she was right. Because Time indeed was going slowly, now. It was as if Reality had suddenly been smeared with molasses, and Twilight might as well have been climbing the stairs up to Sunset Shimmer’s room in slow-motion.

Time wanted to savor the moment. It wanted to really appreciate the few instants before Twilight’s hopes and dreams came crashing down. It derived an almost erotic pleasure in knowing that this was Twilight Sparkle’s last moment of peace in a very long time.

But eventually, all things come to an end. Time tried its hardest, but Twilight made it to Sunset’s chambers.

And then she opened the door.

“Good morning, Sunset Shimmer!” she said, voice maybe a little too chipper for her own headache. “I brought you breakfast! I wanted to apologize fo—OH MY GOSH!”

“Gasp!” The Royal Guard stopped kissing Sunset and jumped off the bed. “Your Highness!”

“Twilight!” Sunset roared. “You’re supposed to knock!”

“I KNOW I’M SO SORRY OH MY GOSH SUNSET SORRY.”

Twilight closed the door.

Twilight opened the door again.

“Um. Okay, I know this is probably a bad time, but I just want to make sure—oh, you’re kissing again? That was, uh, that was fast. So just to be absolutely certain—”

“TWILIGHT, FOR CELESTIA’S SAKE!”

“Right, yes, no, look, I just feel like this could be a, ahem, a huuuuge misunderstanding. Right? That could happen. And I’d rather, uh.” She coughed. “…Avoid the unnecessary drama if possible?”

“HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY MISUNDERSTAND THIS SITUATION, AGAIN?!”

“I don’t know! Maybe you’re, like, rehearsing a play or something!” Twilight bit her lip. “…Are you rehearsing a pl—”

“WE ARE PRETTY OBVIOUSLY NOT REHEARSING A PLAY.”

“…Okay, yes, that was a dumb question.”

“WHY WOULD WE BE REHEARSING A PLAY THIS EARLY, AND ON MY BED.”

“Look, that was just a random example, I didn’t think it through, okay? Don’t get hung up on it. It’s not representative of—”

“WHY WOULD I BE REHEARSING A PLAY WITH ONE OF YOUR ROYAL GUARDS.”

“Yes, you’ve already established how stupid that idea is! I get it!” Twilight took a step back and massaged the space between her eyes. “That is not—You know what? I’m just going to leave. You probably want to be alone and all that.”

“YES, PLEASE.”

“Sure, sure. Sorry again!”

Twilight closed the door.

Twilight opened the door. “Okay, so, I know this is getting ridiculous, but you never actually told me what is going on explicitly, so, just to be clear—”

“TWILIGHT I SWEAR TO CELESTIA I’M GOING TO KILL Y—”

CHAPTER FIVE

THE GIRL OF MY DREAMS

It’s the most important table in the world. Fate sits on the right. Time, on the left. The name of the game is Star-Crossed Lovers, and it’s about romance. It ends when they fall in love, when pieces get together, look at each other, and there’s a

tink!

in the air.

It’s the oldest game in the world, and Fate just lost—maybe. For him to win, the pieces need to fall in love with each other. Sunset might have killed just killed their future.

So let’s zoom in on the table, just to make sure…

“My dear Royal Guard,” Sunset said, and she bit her lower lip in anticipation. “I’m going to do horrible things to you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And then Sunset grabbed his tail and—

—and we zoom out.

On second thought, Fate muses, let’s go somewhere that doesn’t remind me of how Time is sweeping the floor with me.

Time says: that’s going to be impossible.

But we zoom in anyway…

“…And Sunset is doing horrible things to that Royal Guard as we speak,” Twilight said, eyes wide. “Horrible things.”

Rarity blinked. “Horrible things?”

“Horrible things.”

“Darling. I need more details.”

“Well, last thing I saw, she was trying to grab his tail and—”

—Okay, no, we zoom out, Fate says. We zoom out. Let’s look somewhere else.

Time says: I told you.

Fate says: let’s see what Moondancer is doing.

“It’s Time,” Moondancer panted. “That’s what Flower Fall is doing. It’s bringing Time back to Canterlot, and it’s going to kill us all.”

Silence at the most important table in the world.

Time is filing his nails. Hey, don’t hate the player, he says, cocky. Hate the game.

Fate sighs.

“Time,” Moondancer repeated, gasping for air, sweat rolling down her forehead, “is going to kill us all.”

There was a small pause. Outside the window, flowers fell over Canterlot.

Then Dash said: “Uh, yeah. That’s how aging works.”

And if that wasn’t the one reply that would set the tone of this entire conversation, Moondancer thought as she tried her best not to punch Rainbow Dash right in the face, she would grab her favorite book and eat it.

It is not widely known that the old saying about breakfast—“it’s the most important meal!”—wasn’t coined by nutritionists, but by politicians. Breakfasts define society. They expose the best and worst parts of the ponies around them. A post-scarcity society will have great breakfasts. A utopia will have wonderful ones.

Equestria’s breakfasts? When you were at Canterlot Castle? Those could only be described as a miracle.

Pastries and honey, coffee and tea—whatever you wanted, it was there. Eggs poached to perfection, cow maids ready to produce fresh milk [2] at a moment’s notice, flowers of all colors and sizes. Canterlot Castle’s Breakfast Table was paradise.

[2] Some would say drinking the milk that came out of someone who can hold a conversation is disturbing, but here’s the thing—what is or isn’t disgusting varies depending on the world, but dairy products are a delicious constant across all universes.

But in that moment, for Moondancer, it was the most disappointing thing she’d ever seen. Because, in a place where you could get everything, she was lacking something.

“…Where is Twilight?” she asked, frowning and hugging her book to her chest. There were only three ponies at the table: Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie. “I need to talk to her.”

“She just left!” Pinkie said, chewing on some crêpes and beckoning Moondancer. “Like half an hour ago. Also, hi! I’m Pinkie Pie! We already met once!”

“She left? What do you mean, she left? We were supposed to meet here! This is important!” Moondancer frowned as she followed Pinkie’s orders and took a seat at the table. “Also, uh, hi.”

“Hi!”

“I’m Moondancer.”

“I know!”

“Um.” Fluttershy was sitting right next to Pinkie. There was a cupcake on her plate, but she had barely touched it. “I think there was an emergency. She looked pretty upset. Also, hi. I’m Fluttershy.”

“Hi. I’m still Moondancer. Emergency?” Moondancer made a face. “Define emergency, then,because I’m talking about saving the world here, and Twilight Sparkle knows it. So, unless she’s—wait.” She squinted. “Wait, wait, wait. Please tell me this has nothing to do with Sunset Shimmer.”

Pinkie, Dash, and Fluttershy all looked at each other in silence.

Moondancer kept going. “Tell me,” she said, “that Twilight didn’t forgo our meeting because of that character, and that she’s just, I don’t know. Dealing with a completely new world-ending scenario or something?” She looked at them. “Please?”

“Well.” Dash shrugged. “To be completely fair, we are used to world-ending scenarios. They haven’t popped up in a while, but it’s not like we find them unusual or anything.”

Moondancer arched an eyebrow. “…So she’s actually dealing with another crisis, then?”

“Hah! Haaah, hah, hah. Nah, this is totally about Sunset Shimmer. Also.” Rainbow pointed at herself. “Rainbow Dash. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Moondancer. Okay, why exactly—”

“You know that’s not how greetings work, right?” Dash said.

A blink. “What?” Moondancer asked.

“Like, you don’t have to repeat your name every time you talk to us.” Dash leaned over and—in a table with every delicatessen you could hope for—grabbed an energy bar that tasted like chewed gum and kerosene. “We already know who you are.”

Another blink. “You do?”

“Of course, you silly!” Pinkie giggled. “You’re Moonie! Twilight is always talking about you! Also, can I call you Moonie?”

“No.”

“I’m gonna call you Moonie!”

“Please don’t.”

“…Um, we can tell Twilight to look for you when she comes back?” Fluttershy said, once she noticed the kind of face Moondancer was making[3]. “Or, or I guess you can wait for her with us. I’m sure she’ll be back shortly.”

[3] Pinkie Pie was a wonderful mare, and all her friends loved her dearly, but she had the strange tendency to make anypony who talked to her look exactly like a serial killer on the verge of another spree.

“No.” Moondancer’s voice was as bitter as coffee, so she sipped from her cup to further the point before speaking again. “I don’t have the time to wait. Tell me where she is?”

“You don’t have the time?” Dash cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean, you don’t have the time? You look like you’re eating breakfast pretty slowly from here.”

“I’m not.” Pause. Sip. “I’m just talking to you because it’ll save more time in the long run. Also, this is good coffee.”

“It is!” Pinkie said.

“But I am in a rush,” Moondancer said. “You see— remember how I literally just said that I’m talking about saving the world and that’s why this is so important?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Uh-huh!”

“Right. Once I’m done talking with Twilight, I need to go save the world a little harder. So, if you could tell me where she is so I can move on…?”

Silence. The three mares looked at each other, pondering Moondancer’s words.

This wasn’t lost on Moondancer. “Well…?” she said.

Fluttershy bit her lip, but she was the first one talking. “Um,” she said. “About that—”

“We don’t know where she is!” Pinkie chirped, eating another crêpe in one big gulp. “I guess you could ask Spike to send her a letter. But he’s sleeping off the after party!”

“He should have gone to bed earlier,” Fluttershy said, nodding. “That kind of party is not fit for a child our age.” She looked at Moondancer. “Um. Dragons hit puberty at seventy or so.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Also!” Pinkie said. “Twilight said she wanted to be left alone for a bit!”

“She didn’t say that,” Dash said, looking at Pinkie.

“Hahah. True! But she implied it pretty hard.” Pinkie shrugged. “So Moonie will have to wait with us!”

“Don’t call me Moonie.”

“Okay! What can I call you?”

“Moondancer.”

“But that’s too long! What do your friends call you?”

“Moondancer. My friends call me Moondancer.” Moondancer took another sip of coffee. “Because that’s my name.”

Pinkie frowned. “Huh. You’re a tough one.” Then, she smiled, and ate another crêpe. “I like you!”

“Thanks. There’s literally no need, but thanks.”

“I still like you!”

Pause.

“…Okay, I have to know.” Moondancer looked at Fluttershy. “Is she always like this, or is she going through some kind of sugar high? Because that’s the third crêpe she eats in two minutes.”

Fluttershy frowned. “Who? Pinkie Pie?”

“Yes.”

“…I think both?”

“I think,” Dash said, chewing thoughtfully at her energy bar, “that you can tell us if it’s that important, right? I mean, we can tell Twilight if we see her before you.” Pause. She looked at Shy and Pinkie. “Also we’re gonna save the world too. I think?”

“Yeah.”

“Uh-huh! I wanna shoot friendship lasers at something. It’s been a while since we did!”

“Right, but—okay.” Moondancer took a deep breath. “Look,” she said, looking straight into Dash’s eyes. “I know who you are. I know you’re national heroes, and that you’ve saved the world so many times you don’t even think about it anymore. But this is important. Maybe you’re so used to this you think I’m exaggerating, but Equestria is at stake and I really think—”

“Oh, no, no, no!” Fluttershy opened her eyes wide, and shook her head. “No, we—we know this is important!”

“Yeah!” Pinkie said. Fourth crêpe in. “The world is in danger!”

“Trust me, we always take these kind of things seriously.” Dash nodded towards the window, and the raining flowers at the other side. “You’re talking about Flower Fall, right? Twilight said it was probably gonna kill us all, and also that Pinkie had to stop eating the flowers.”

“But I didn’t stop!”

“But she didn’t stop.”

“Because they’re really good!”

Moondancer’s ears perked up, and she grabbed her cup of coffee again. “Uh,” she said. “Actually, yeah, this is about Flower Fall. I’ve been investigating it for weeks—”

“Oh, uh.” Fluttershy cleared her throat with a cough. “Twilight told us! It’s, uh, it’s about magic, a-and about an imbalance in magic caused because Sunset Shimmer came in here. And it’s probably going to kill us all.” Pause. “And then she said Pinkie should stop eating the flowers. Again.”

“But I stood strong! We had, like, a whole argument about it.”

“Yeah.” Dash made a face. “It was a really long afternoon.”

“And I won!”

“But we still know Flower Fall is really serious.” Fluttershy gave Moondancer a weak smile. It didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s… a little scary. To be honest.”

“…Yeah,” Moondancer said. “Yeah. It is. Okay, so—why aren’t you telling me where Twilight is, again? So I can just tell her and end this and save the world already?”

Pinkie smiled at her. “Because Twilight is upset!” she said.

“Yeah,” Fluttershy said. “And she said she needs to be alone for a bit. Sorry.”

“But I’m sure she’ll get better soon!”

It took Moondancer a moment. Then:

“…So it’s not like you’re just brushing me away,” she said. “You’re actually aware the world is at stake. You just… Prioritize Twilight?”

“Yep.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeppers!”

“Huh.” And Moondancer took a sip of coffee. “Well,” she said. “I can respect that. I like Twilight, too.”

“Hah-hah! See?” Pinkie elbowed Fluttershy and winked at Moondancer at the same time. “I told you I liked her! I’m so good at judging ponies.”

“Sure. Well.” Moondancer sighed. “I really wanted to see Twilight, but I guess you can just ask her to come to the Royal Library whenever she’s back. I’ll be there working. Tell her that…” She frowned, and thought for a moment or two. “Okay. Remember what I told you earlier?”

“Yeah,” Dash said. “You said aging is a thing.”

“Right. Well, no, but it’s something like that.” Moondancer looked out the window, at the flowers that fell, and her frown deepened. “Look,” she said, looking back at Fluttershy. “I don’t know if you know this, but Flower Fall isn’t that weird.”

Fluttershy blinked. “…What?”

“Yeah. Most magical scholars know about it. Whenever you apply too much strength to a spell, it causes a small rip in the time-space continuum. From that rip, flowers fall.” Moondancer arched an eyebrow. “With me so far?”

Pause.

Fluttershy squinted, and cocked her head to the side. “Uh,” she said. “Time-space… what?”

“Ah.” Dash perked up at this, and she looked at Fluttershy. “I actually know about this! Time and space are actually the same thing for some reason. Pinkie told me. Isn’t it right, Pinkie?”

“Yeah!” Pinkie said, bobbing up and down in her chair. “Shy, you know how you when you’re having fun, time goes fast?”

Fluttershy nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Well, have you ever thought where it’s going?”

Another pause.

“Huh.” Fluttershy frowned. “I haven’t.”

Moondancer frowned. “Um.”

“Well, that’s because it’s going away!” Pinkie said. “Through space!”

“Ooh. Ooooooooh!”

Moondancer frowned harder. “Um.”

“And that’s why Flower Fall is going to kill us all!”

“I see. That makes sense.” Fluttershy looked at Moondancer. “Right?”

Pause.

“…Yes. You know what? Yes. That’s why.” Moondancer waved a hoof. “Doesn’t matter. Flower Fall is just—it’s not unusual, if you know your way around complex magic. It’s just that we’d never seen it at this scale, so we didn’t know what it was going to do.”

Dash nodded. “But now you do?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“It’s going to kill us all.”

Pinkie Pie gasped.

The others did not.

“You know, it’s not always that that answer manages to be anticlimactic,” Dash mused, looking at Fluttershy and finishing up her energy bar. “But I think Moonie just managed.”

“Don’t call me Moonie.”

“Hm.” Dash looked at Pinkie. “You’re right.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She’s tough.”

“…Well, I still think it’s scary,” Fluttershy said, looking down and fiddling with her still-untouched muffin. “I don’t like it when things threaten to kill us all.”

“It’s not about knowing if it’s going to kill us all,” Moondancer said. She looked around the table, found a plate with good-looking cookies, and grabbed one. “It’s about knowing how it’s going to kill us all. Because that’s how we discover how to stop it.”

“We shoot friendship lasers?!” Pinkie asked, leaning over the table so much she was almost standing up.

“No.”

“You sure?!”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well.” Pinkie sat down again. “Shoot. So how is it going to kill us?”

Moondancer nibbled the cookie, then put it down, and made a serious face. She looked straight at Fluttershy when she talked. “It’s going to do it,” she said, “through Time.”

Pause.

“No, I’m not talking about aging. It’s not gonna make us age. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Oooooh.” Pinkie swept the sweat off her brow. “Phew. I was worried there for a second!”

Dash looked at her. “Pinks. We’re still going to die.”

“Yeah, but we’ll die young!”

“That is really not something you should say with that kind of smile.”

“What Flower Fall is doing is obvious once you think about it.” Moondancer had already learned that participating in any conversation where Pinkie and Dash are taking part consisted mostly on ignoring whatever they said, so she kept on looking at Fluttershy while she said this. “It’s ripping up the space-time continuum—so it’s literally bringing back Time.”

Fluttershy frowned, trying to follow her. “Right,” she said. “Through… space?”

“Uh. No. It’s just—”

“It’s making time move, then?” Fluttershy blinked. “Wait. Is this why time flies? Is it flying towards us?”

“Gasp!” Pinkie didn’t gasp, here. She literally said the word ‘gasp’ out loud. “That makes sense!” she said, clapping. “Fluttershy, you’re so smart!”

Fluttershy blushed and smiled a bit. “Eheh. Thanks.”

“You, uh.” Moondancer squinted. “You’re really Twilight’s friends, right? Like, she actually hangs out with you three.”

“Yeah.”

“Yep.”

“Uh-huh!”

“Right.” Moondancer nodded. “I think I’m starting to see why Celestia thought she’d earned those wings.”

Pinkie looked at her with honest eyes. “I can take that as a compliment,” she said. “So I will!”

“Charming. So, about dying.” Moondancer nibbled the cookie again, and downed up with a bit of coffee. “You know, to get back to topic.”

“Yes?”

“Flower Fall is bringing the past back into the future. That can mean… many things.” Moondancer frowned. “Nostalgia, a sweet smell… Everything feels a bit more old-timey lately. But it will get worse.”

Fluttershy hid behind her mane. “…How much worse?”

“Shy.” Dash looked at her. “Killing-us-all worse. Have you been paying attention?”

“The past will literally come back at this rate,” Moondancer said. “Physically. The Canterlot of… Celestia knows how many years ago will appear through the same rip in time and space that’s producing the flowers. And it will appear exactly in the same spot as the present Canterlot.”

There was a moment of silence.

Pinkie Pie ate another crêpe.

“That sounds both dangerous,” Dash said after a bit, “and extremely underwhelming. Is that going to kill us all? Can’t we just move the city?”

“It’s not going to appear on top of Canterlot,” Moondancer said. She finished her cookie and got up. “It’s going to appear in the same spot. Every brick, every pebble—every atom… They’ll occupy the same space. Also, I need to go back to the Royal Library. Tell Twilight this, and then ask her to come with me—we have a lot of work to do. Complex spells, and all that.”

“Oh. Uh.” Fluttershy blinked. “Okay. Um, thanks.”

“You’we welcome.” Moondancer finished up her coffee, and went for the doors. “Nice to meet you all. And nice to see you again, Pinkie. Later.”

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait!” Dash jumped off her seat and flew over the table to stay between Moondancer and the door. “Wait a moment there. What do you mean, it’ll occupy the same space? What will that do?”

Moondancer blinked. “Well,” she said. “Obviously two things can’t be in exactly the same place at the same time. Old Canterlot will be extremely unstable.”

“…So? How will that kill us all?”

Moondancer’s face was grim. She looked at Dash, and shook her head a little.

“Boom,” she said.

And then, she left.

“…And Sunset is doing horrible things to that Royal Guard as we speak,” Twilight said, eyes wide. “Horrible things.”

Rarity blinked. “Horrible things?”

“Horrible things.”

“Darling, I think I might need more details.”

“Well, last thing I saw, she was trying to grab his tail and—”

There’s a sigh at the most important table in the world, and Fate looks at the pieces on the table. Well, he says. Might as well get done with it.

And Time smiles and looks at the pieces, confident in his victory.

(And in doing so, he misses that Fate is smirking, if only a little bit.)

“—and then, elbow-deep, she pulls,” Twilight finished. “With her teeth.”

There was silence after the explanation.

And Rarity made a face that no lady should ever make. “Oh, hoh, hoh,” she said, covering her mouth with a hoof and giving Twilight a sharp look. “My. That does sound horrible.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I’m assuming that’s why I’m here, then, darling?” Rarity asked. “Not because our dear Sunset did that, but—because you caught her?”

Twilight didn’t reply. She just looked down and gave Rarity a weak nod.

Breakfasts define society. They expose the best and worst parts of the ponies around them. And that morning, Twilight had forgotten all about eating.

She was sitting in a park by the west side of Canterlot, near the train station. There was a playground next to them, and the laughter of children having the time of their lives drowned almost any other sound. Flowers fell. There was a sweet scent in the air.

“And it’s a really beautiful scene, don’t get me wrong,” Twilight explained after Rarity pointed this out, perhaps trying to cheer her up. “And usually I would appreciate it? But right now all it does is remind me that, oh yeah, the world is ending.”Pause. “Also that no matter how I try I can’t stop Pinkie from eating stuff off the ground, which is a completely different issue but still pretty high-priority.”

Rarity made a face. “Twilight, we all love Pinkie Pie, but there’s really no use in fighting a losing battle.”

“Look, at this point it’s a matter of pride, okay?” Twilight frowned. “I mean, how hard it is to just—?”

“Twilight. Come on.”

“…Okay. Sure. Whatever, the world is still ending anyway.” Twilight sighed. “Flower Fall can kill us all, and that’s something I should… probably be working on? Because all I’ve wanted all these years has been a chance to save the world again?”

“Uh-huh.”

“But I’m not.” She made a face. “Because I think I can’t. Because I feel really…” The words died in Twilight’s mouth.

“…Upset?” Rarity offered.

“Yes! Yes. Upset. I’m really, really upset. I’m upset to a ridiculous degree, and I can’t even…”

“…Think straight?” Rarity offered.

“Yes. Sigh. Exactly.” Twilight huffed. “All because I saw Sunset doing… Doing that! And believe it or not, I’m self-aware enough to understand that something is going on with me here, so I just…! I…!” She swallowed, looked down, looked up. Looked at Rarity. “I… don’t know what to do.”

Rarity just smiled, and patted Twilight’s head. “My dear little Twilight,” she cooed. “Do you want to talk about this? Maybe sort out what’s going through your head?”

Twilight nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good. That’s good. I’m here to help.”

“I know you are.” Twilight looked at Rarity and smiled. “That’s why I asked you to be here.” Pause. “Only I also know you’re into tragic romances to an almost fetishistic degree, so I also asked Applejack to come to sorta balance you out.”

“Ah’m just happy to be here!” Applejack said, popping her head out from behind Rarity.

“So. Yeah.” Twilight looked at Applejack and pointed at Rarity. “Balance her out?”

“Sure!” Applejack smiled, and hopped off the bench for a moment to sit next to Twilight. That way, Twilight was sandwiched between her two friends. “So,” she said. “You saw Sunset do horrible things.”

“Horrible things,” Twilight repeated.

“To a Royal Guard.”

“To a Royal Guard.”

“And that really annoyed you, and now you feel a lil’ heartbroken, right?”

Twilight frowned. “Uh,” she said. “Well, I don’t know if that term is the most accurate—”

“Twi.” Applejack looked at Twilight with something that might have been compassion, or perhaps simple pity. “You’re obviously in love with Sunset Shimmer.”

“Obviously,” Rarity nodded.

Pause.

“Okay,” Twilight said, squinting. “I… wasn’t expecting this.”

“You weren’t expecting me to point out the obvious?” AJ arched an eyebrow. “‘Cause Ah’ve seen how you look at her.” She elbowed Twilight. “And her behind, eh?”

“No, I—how I look at her what?” Twilight frowned. “What? You’re the one who spent like ten minutes talking about her flank with—!”

“She’s got a nice derriere, you have to admit that,” Rarity mused, looking at Applejack. Applejack nodded. “I mean, we certainly don’t blame you, dear. It’s just, you’re really not good at faking it.”

Twilight blushed. “I don’t—!”

“You’ve started walkin’ like her too,” AJ said. “A lil’.”

“I haven’t!”

“You have.”

“Darling, you have. You do that thing with your rump that’s—admittedly, really good for your figure, I’m not going to lie.” Rarity smiled at Twilight. “You look good lately! But also you’re absolutely in love and it’s kind of silly for you to deny that.”

“Agreed,” Applejack said.

“Okay. Okay, wait a minute there.” Twilight coughed, and pushed AJ and Rarity a little away from her. “Let’s start over from the beginning here—Applejack, you were supposed to balance Rarity out. I was expecting Rarity to say I’m in love, sure. But—you?”

Applejack nodded. “Ah see,” she said.

And Twilight’s eyes lighted up with hope. “You do?”

“Eyup.” AJ tipped her hat. “Somepony here’s not aware of how obvious she is.”

“What the—no!” Twilight frowned and crossed her front legs above her chest. “No, that’s not what you’re supposed to say! There’s—look, there are plenty of reasons why I’d be upset after seeing Sunset doing that. I thought you would just sorta assume it was one of them!” She pointed at Rarity. “Claiming that everything everywhere is romantic for no reason is her job!”

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” Rarity said.

“Okay, you do you. Her job!” Twilight pointed at Rarity again. “Not yours!” she pointed at Applejack. “Hers!”

“Still taking it as a compliment.”

“Twilight, you got all sulky after seein’ Sunset get cozy with somepony else. Ah might be no big romantic, and Ah might enjoy contradictin’ Rarity for no real reason, but Ah’m not dumb.” Applejack scoffed. “You should’ve got Rainbow Dash if you wanted me to do that.” She got up. “Want me to go fetch her?”

“No, that’s—nopony needs Rainbow Dash!”

“Ain’t that true.”

“Preach, darling,” Rarity said with a smile. Pause. Then: “Ah, but—we all love her, of course.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Mighty good mare, good ol’ Dash, and all that.” Applejack waved a hoof. “But, like—preach, right?”

“Definitely, preach.”

Twilight looked at them both. “Okay,” she said. “Are you done? No more preaching?”

“Yeah.”

“And are you done insulting Rainbow Dash?”

“We’re never done insulting Rainbow Dash, darling,” Rarity said, still branding that lovely smile of hers that would outshine the brightest of stars. “But, for the sake of the argument, let’s say that we are.”

“Okay. Good.” Twilight frowned and rested her back on the bench. “Because I just said that there are plenty of reasons why I’d be sulky after seeing what I saw. It doesn’t immediately mean that I’m in love.”

“But,” Rarity said, poking Twilight on the side. “You do agree you’re sulky, yes?”

“Uh. Yeah. Honestly, that’s the baseline of this conversation.”

“Well, that’s good. That’s actually really, really good. It’s usually the biggest step.” Rarity eyed Applejack. “It won’t take her much to admit she’s in love like this, will it?”

“Nah, don’t think so.”

And Twilight pouted. “I somehow feel you two aren’t listening to me at all.”

“No, no, we are!” Rarity went back to Twilight, and grabbed one of her hooves. “We’re with you all the way, darling, don’t be mistaken. We’re just, ah.” A smile. “Slightly ahead of the game?”

“That does not help.”

“Twi, don’t be mad.” AJ grabbed another of Twilight’s hooves. “It just ain’t as complicated as you want it to be. But we’re here to help! Honest!”

“Well, that’s good, because you’re not helping.”

A sigh. “Okay,” Applejack said, glaring at Rarity so she wouldn’t interrupt Twilight. “Why don’t you go and list some of those plenty o’ reasons why you’d be heartbroken over this? And we can just go over ‘em. Would that be better?”

Twilight thought about this for a moment.

“Yeah,” she said once she was done. “Yeah. I think that’d be good. And then I can go back to saving the world. I really need go go back to that—did you know I missed my date with Moondancer because of this?” Twilight sighed and shook her head. “She’s been helping me with the research for weeks and I went and left her hanging just because of… whatever this is. I need go get my act together.”

“Boy.” Applejack made a face. “Moondancer, huh. That’s a whole ‘nother thing.”

“Darling, let’s not get wrapped up in that now.” Rarity looked at Applejack. “Don’t you think that would only confuse Twilight?”

“Yeah, good point, Ah guess.”

“What?” Twilight frowned, and looked at her friends. “What? Do you have anything against Moondancer, or…?”

“Nooo, no, no. Not at all, darling. Moondancer is a sweetheart, and I’m sure she’s a wonderful pony. Don’t mind us.” Rarity shook Twilight’s shoulder. “You were saying?”

Twilight frowned at this, but eventually she let go. “Right,” she said. “Well—it doesn’t have to be love, right? It can be something different.” She bit her lip for a moment, and then: “Maybe… I don’t know. Guilt?”

This caused a reaction. Rarity blinked twice, and Applejack tipped her hat upwards as if getting it out of the way to look at Twilight a little better.

“What now?” AJ asked. “Guilt? For what? Did you send the Guard to her room or…?”

“No! No, absolutely not!” Pause. “Well. Uh.” Twilight’s ears went down, and she hid behind her mane. When she talked again, her voice was barely a whisper. “…Maybe?”

Pause.

“Twilight?” Rarity said, voice soft. “I think I need you to give me more details.”

“Yeah, Ah think the same,” Applejack said. She was frowning. “‘Cause that’s one weird thing to be unsure about. Ah didn’t know you could wingman on accident. How bad are you at courtin’ Sunset, again? ‘Cause that there’s impressive.”

Rarity looked at Applejack. “Darling,” she said. “I think you’re supposed to be a good friend in this kind of situation, not a rational one.”

“You’re the best friend, Ah’m the mom friend. We’re a team.”

“Oh. Huh. Good point.”

“No, I don’t mean—” Twilight coughed a bit, took a breath, then tried to look at her friends. “I didn’t send the Guard to her room directly, but I think I’m… maybe responsible for it?”

“Oh?”

“Huh?”

“Yeah.” Twilight fiddled with her hooves. “Well, it’s about… It’s about the dinner we had.” Pause. “With Princess Celestia.”

Rarity and Applejack nodded. This was new information for them, but they didn’t ask any questions. They just waited for Twilight to tell them more.

And Twilight did.

“It didn’t go well.”

People talk about stories. They say a lot of things—that they affect us, that they shape us, that they’re pretty cool. They say countless things—but they always focus on the same thing:

It’s always about the audience.

It is rare to mind the one telling the story. It’s like congratulating the waiter on the size of your table. But ignoring the storyteller is, at its core, a mistake.

So Twilight told a story, here. And it changed her.

It changed her because she talked about the dinner she’d shared with Sunset and Celestia. Because to explain her disappointment, she had to first explain her expectations—that it would solve everything, that Sunset and Celestia would open their heart to each other, that they would finally make amends, after all this time.

And then the dinner had happened.

And it had been hell.

“Princess Celestia said,” she explained, “that there was nothing to do with Sunset Shimmer. That she didn’t want my help, and that I would only hurt us both if I tried to help her, and that…” Pause. “That she wouldn’t forgive her.”

Rarity and Applejack said nothing.

“And it’s my fault,” Twilight said.

Rarity and Applejack said many things.

“What?!”

“Twilight! Oh my gosh, dear, no! No, that’s ludicrous, I can’t believe—”

“Princess Celestia said that? Because if she said Ah’m gonna go and tell ‘er—”

“—that this is not your fault, darling, you have done nothing wrong, you’re—”

“—gonna go there, and say hi your Highness, nice to see you, you know Ah really appreciate you, but Ah’m gonna grab your head and—”

“—promise you that all that happened at the dinner, and whatever Sunset Shimmer has or hasn’t done, has nothing to do with you, and you—”

“—are not—”

“—at fault here.”

And then both of them stood there, eyes intense, looking at Twilight with equal times concern and the purest kindness a pony could ever summon. And in that very moment—flowers falling all around, children laughing in the distance, sweet scent in the air—they were the perfect picture of friendship. In that moment, anypony would have guessed, with just a look, that they could shoot lasers with the bonds that tied them.

And Twilight stood there, slightly overwhelmed, and a little bit creeped out.

She said: “Uh.”

Rarity and Applejack leaned towards her. “Yes?” “Yeah?”

“That is—Applejack, did you just imply you’d commit treason?”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

“Wow.” Twilight blinked. “For me? Just because you thought that’d help?”

“Yes.” Again, no hesitation. “Told ya. Mom friend.” She got up. “Want me to? ‘Cause Ah can just—”

“No! No, no, no, no!” Twilight grabbed Applejack by her tail. “No! No treason! There’s no—that was really sweet, don’t get me wrong, but there’s no reason to go to jail just for me. Also, thanks. Also, really—no need.” Pause. “But thanks. You too, Rarity.”

“You’re welcome, dear.”

“You sure, Twi? Ah really don’t mind. Ah can just go to the Castle real quick and—”

“No!” And with a flash of her horn, Twilight pushed AJ down till she forced her to sit down again. “No. No, there’s no—do not commit treason. Princess Celestia didn’t say that, she never blamed me, so there’s no reason for treason.”

Pause. Applejack squinted. “Yeah?”

Twilight nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” And Applejack relaxed her shoulders. “Good. No treason today.” She squinted. “But she better not try me.”

Rarity looked at Applejack with a half-smile. “Why, dear. That was positively threatening, was it not?”

“It was?”

“Absolutely.”

“Huh.” Applejack smiled back. “Thanks!” Then she looked at Twilight. “And if she didn’t say that, then why did you say it?”

“Because it’s wrong,” Rarity added quickly, once again placing a hoof on top of Twilight’s. “The dinner was—well, it was a disaster, indeed. But that’s on Princess Celestia and Sunset, from what you said. You did what you thought was best for them. Now, did it work? No. Should the dinner have happened? Also no. Was it a good idea to force it on them? Oh, definitely not.”

Twilight flinched. “Ouch.”

“It’s tough love, darling, I mean well. And if Princess Celestia didn’t forgive Sunset…” Rarity frowned. “Well, quite honestly, I don’t quite understand that bit. It does sound harsh on poor Sunset, but—did the princess give any reason, or…?”

“Well.” Twilight frowned. “She said it was Sunset’s natural disposition to betray Equestria and do… everything she did, I guess.”

“Natural disposition?”

“Y’mean,” Applejack asked, “that she’s, like, evil inside?”

“Kind of? She said that it was about Sunset’s parents. That she wasn’t really at fault for becoming evil, because she was pretty much fated to do it—but that she did hold Sunset responsible for everything that happened afterwards.” Pause. “Which, knowing Sunset,” Twilight added, “can mean a lot of things, and most of them are bad. So.”

“Right, but that’s still—”

“That doesn’t sound like something Princess Celestia would say,” Applejack said. Then she looked at Rarity. “Does it?”

“It does not!” Rarity said. “I do not claim to know the princess better than anypony—but in my experience, she’s always been an extremely forgiving pony, hasn’t she?” She frowned. “She’s been, why, nothing but kind all these years.”

Twilight nodded. “Hmm,” she said. “She’s always had a really big heart. She forgot Princess Luna as soon as she came back.”

“Yeah. She’s mighty nice,” Applejack said. “Still gonna commit treason if you w—”

“Applejack, nopony wants you to commit treason. Please, stop talking about committing treason.”

“Okay! Okay.” Applejack raised both hooves in the air. “Okay. No treason. But it ain’t your fault if Princess Celestia doesn’t forgive Sunset Shimmer, right? It’s weird, and you probably caused it—but it ain’t your fault.”

“Again: ouch.”

“Again: tough love.”

“I thought Rarity was the one saying that?”

“She is,” Applejack said. And then she pointed at her chest. “But, y’know, Ah’m—”

Twilight interrupted her with a smile. “The mom friend?”

And Applejack smiled back. “Atta girl.”

“It still isn’t your fault, darling,” Rarity said, patting Twilight’s head. “It is, admittedly, an uncomfortable situation—but you did what you had to do. I don’t know if it helps, but I would have done the same in your situation. Having Princess Celestia and Sunset talk should have at least fixed something. I truly can’t understand what was going through the princess’ head…”

“Y’know what Ah can’t understand?” Applejack asked. “How this relates to Sunset Shimmer doin’ the do with that Royal Guard.” Pause. “Did Princess Celestia wingman her or…?”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “No,” she said. “Wait. Yes. Maybe? Kind of. It’s complicated.” She frowned. “I think that’s why I’m so upset. Because I’m—”

“In love,” Rarity said.

“Heads over heels,” Applejack said.

“Responsible,” Twilight said, with a hint of annoyance. “I’m responsible for Sunset Shimmer doing that with the Guard, and maybe Princess Celestia is too, and it’s just… Ugh.” She rested her head on her hooves. “It’s really weird, and really sad, and really, really confusing.”

“Huh.” Applejack looked up and scratched her muzzle. “Both Princess Celestia and Princess Twilight, huh. Sunset Shimmer sure got a lotta royalty in her bedroom.”

“Hmm.” Rarity looked at her. “Royal Guard, too.”

“Yeah, that’s three for three.”

“I’m telling you it’s not like we did it directly,” Twilight said, still not looking at them. “Just… Don’t you think that maybe Sunset is doing this just because of the dinner? That she’s trying to… prove something?”

Now that Twilight wasn’t paying them any attention, Applejack and Rarity were free to do whatever they wanted. And they took this chance to look at each other—and that look was worth more words than a thousand pictures.

It was Rarity who broke the silence. “Prove something, darling?” she asked. “Prove what?”

“That… That she’s worth something, I suppose?” Twilight said. She was still burying her face on her hooves. “Princess Celestia was ruthless with her. Anypony would feel down after something like that. Maybe she was just looking for some kind of warmth? Some kind of, of consolation?”

Again, Applejack and Rarity looked at each other.

“So you think,” Applejack said, speaking slowly, “that Sunset went with that Royal Guard ‘cause she was down ‘cause of the dinner.”

“Yeah.”

“And the dinner was your idea,” Rarity said. “And that means that you are the reason why Sunset is doing what she’s doing, in a sense.”

“Yeah.”

“And that upsets you,” Rarity said.

“Uh-huh.”

“‘Cause you’re in love with her,” Applejack finished. “Well, this has been productive. Are we done now?”

“Wh—no!” Twilight got up and finally regarded her friends once more. “No, that’s not what we’re talking about! This is the alternative theory we’re working with, remember?”

“It is?” Applejack asked, arching an eyebrow. “‘Cause from here it looks like it’s exactly the same, only it has more layers.”

“Oh, but that’s the mark of a true romance, darling.” Rarity winked at her and let out a giggle. “Needless complications! Oh, they’re the fuel that feeds the flames of love, aren’t they?”

“They’re really, really not.”

“We’re not talking about flaming romance!” Twilight whined, bopping up and down in the chair a little bit. “Listen to me! I’m just—if I’m the reason why Sunset is doing these things, it’s perfectly normal to feel upset! Maybe I just feel guilty, you ever thought about that? Doesn’t mean I’m in love!”

“Rrrrright.” Applejack squinted. “Um—”

Rarity raised a hoof. “Darling?” she said, looking at Applejack. “Excuse me for a moment, but—” She pointed at AJ—“mom friend?” Then she pointed at herself. “Best friend. My turn?”

Applejack waved a hoof. “All yours.”

“Right, thanks. Twilight.” Rarity scooted closer to Twilight, so they were almost touching. “There are many things I could say here, truly. I don’t think that Sunset seeking… comfort, as you put it, in a Royal Guard’s arms is necessarily bad. As a friend, you shouldn’t feel guilty. As a suitor, however, you’re jealous, which makes more sense.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “I’m not—”

“And,” Rarity continued, her tone a little forced to make sure Twilight shut up. Twilight shut up. “And,” Rarity repeated, “I’d be right. However… I don’t really think Sunset was seeking comfort? She’s, ah. How to say this.” Rarity coughed. “Okay. Darling? I don’t think Sunset is with that Royal Guard because of what the princess said. I think one thing has nothing to do with the other.”

Twilight made a face. “Well,” she said. “You don’t know that.”

“I sort of do.”

“We didn’t really tell you ‘bout this ‘cause we care about you,” Applejack said, giving Twilight a sympathetic smile. “And ‘cause you’re really smitten by Sunset Shimmer.”

“You also don’t know that.”

“We really do,” Rarity repeated. “Sadly, we also know that Sunset Shimmer has… Sort of…” Rarity bit her lip. “This is not the first time she’s with a Royal Guard, turns out?”

There was the smallest of pauses. The smallest of silences.

If you had listened hard enough, you could have made out the sound of Twilight’s heart breaking a little bit.

“…She what?” she asked.

“She’s been’ doin’ the do for weeks,” Applejack said. “Weeks, Twilight. Eeevery time you turned around.”

“What?!”

“Well.” Rarity glared at Applejack for a moment before going back to Twilight. “Perhaps not every time, but—I suppose you’ve been too busy studying Flower Fall to notice, and Sunset Shimmer did try to hide it from you, but…”

“Literally the first thing she said after enterin’ the Castle,” Applejack said, “was to fool around with a Royal Guard. Why do you think she got lost in the way?”

“I—wh—what?” Twilight’s mouth was agape. “W—really?”

“She… hasn’t spent many nights alone, yeah. I haven’t really talked to her, I’m afraid—she and I aren’t as close as you two—but it’s easy to see, if you’re paying attention.” Rarity muzzled Twilight. “You were just too busy to notice, darling. Anypony in your situation would’ve missed it too, I’m sure.”

“Ah mean, Ah guess you can’t blame her,” Applejack said, shrugging. “Sure, it ain’t fun to watch when I know you’ve got the silly giggles for her, but Ah guess Sunset just wanted some kind of fun after all those times in the human lands.” She tipped her hat. “Ain’t no human who can match a stallion, Ah’m willin’ to bet.”

Rarity looked at her. “Applejack,” she said. “Gross.”

“Yeah. But true!”

“Still gross. However, you do have a point. Sunset clearly fell smitten for the Royal Guards as soon as she saw them. They are handsome.” Rarity rubbed her chin. “And, well. The Royal Guards are stallions who dedicate their lives to the protection of a maternal, beautiful, older figure. Sunset Shimmer is sort of tailor-made for them.”

“Oh my gosh.” Twilight opened and closed her mouth many times, trying to come up with something to say. She couldn’t. So she just went: “Oh my gosh!”

“Yep. Ain’t scared of havin’ fun, that mare.”

“Something I would have put in more sensitive terms, but yes, Applejack is right, dear.” Rarity nuzzled Twilight again, for good measure. “I’m sorry to tell you this, darling. I know it must be hard, but that’s just who Sunset Shimmer is.”

“On the other hoof, hey!” Applejack punched Twilight’s shoulder. “That means you don’t have to think she spent the night with him because of you! ‘Cause she was gonna do it anyway!”

Twilight whimpered. “Oh,” she said. “My gosh.”

“Yep.”

“I’m afraid so, darling.”

“And she’s…” Twilight swallowed. “You said she’s been hiding this from me? …Why?”

“You do have a thing against Royal Guards,” Applejack said. “Always get fuzzy whenever somepony says you could date one of ‘em—”

“My brother was their captain!” Twilight said, springing up and almost hurting Rarity in the process. “And I’m a Princess! They look at me weird!”

“—Even though they’re the only males you deal with outside of Spike,” Applejack closed. “Literally your only chance for a boyfriend right there, sugarcube.”

Twilight pouted. “I don’t do boyfriends.”

“Well, you’re really in love with Sunset Shimmer, so yeah, Ah guess that’s one mystery solved.”

“Seeing how you react exactly like that every time somepony mentions the Guards,” Rarity mused, fixing up her mane and checking that her muzzle was still intact, “there’s no wonder Sunset didn’t want to tell you. She must have been afraid of disappointing you, see?”

“Right.” Twilight squinted. “Right! She was afraid of disappointing me? SHE WAS AFRAID OF DISAPPOINTING ME?!”

Both Applejack and Rarity flinched, and leaned back. “Uh,” Rarity said. “Twilight? Indoors voice?”

“I THOUGHT THIS WAS MY FAULT!” Twilight yelled. “I THOUGHT I HAD SERIOUSLY HURT HER!”

“Sugarcube, there are children, like, right there, so maybe you should…?”

“BUT IT TURNS OUT THAT NO, SHE WAS JUST AFRAID OF DISAPPOINTING ME!”

“Ah don’t think she’s gonna stop yellin’.”

“She’s definitely not going to stop yelling, no.”

“SO SHE JUST WENT AND HAD SEX WITH THE ENTIRETY OF THE ROYAL GUARD!”

The laughter of children couldn’t be heard from the playground anymore.

Screaming is a funny thing. Sometimes, it works like fueling a fire—yelling begets yelling, the words bounce and echo against each other and come out louder than ever—and it seems like it’s never going to stop. But sometimes, it works like rain. It seems like it’s never going to stop, but then, it does.

When Twilight started screaming, she thought she was a downpour of kerosene. But once she said the words out loud, she found out—it was only a drizzle.

So she just sat down, and looked down, and when she talked again, her voice was just a whimper.

“I can’t believe this,” she said. “I can’t believe she did that.”

And if she had been a lesser mare—if she had been a pony to give up, or to stand around and mop until her problems go away, then maybe this would have been the end of it all.

But she wasn’t a lesser mare.

She was Princess Twilight Sparkle. She was a pony who had outsmarted her way to royalty, a pony who had made ‘saving the world’ her main hobby. She was a pony who had moved to Ponyville an adult and survived to tell the tale, a pony raised by immortal goddesses who saw her as an equal.

So she didn’t sit around and wait. She perked up, took a breath, and said:

“Okay. So that’s that.” And then she looked at her friends. “I guess I can go back to saving the world now. Thanks for the talk, girls.” She smiled. “I mean it.”

And she got up from the bench, ready to face another day…

…only for Rarity to immediately push her back down. “Tut-tut,” Rarity said, frowning. “Darling, you’re not leaving.”

“What? What do you mean I’m not—you know the world is at stake, right? We might all die if Flower Fall—”

“Oh, come on.” Applejack rolled her eyes. “We’re all dyin’. So what? This is important. You’re still upset!”

“We can see it in your eyes, dear,” Rarity explained.

“Yeah. And in how hard you were yellin’.” Applejack pointed. “The kids are still lookin’ at us. HEY, Y’ALL! GO BACK TO YOUR BUSINESS! AH MEAN IT!”

“…Well, thanks for that, I guess,” Twilight said, squinting. “But, ah. The world is still ending, and this conversation is clearly over, so—”

“And why is it over? My, it’s just started, hasn’t it?” Rarity asked, a smile in her voice (and her face). “Now that you know how much in love with Sunset you are, we can finally talk about that, and maybe come up with a way to—”

“Hey, hold on. Hold on.” Twilight raised a hoof. “First: even if I were in love with Sunset—which I’m not, not necessarily—there’d be nothing to talk about. She’s spending her nights with the Royal Guards, so there’s nothing for me to do there. And second: I’m not necessarily in love with her.”

“YES, MA’AM, AH’M TALKIN’ TO BOTH YOU AND YOUR CHILDREN! Sorry, what?” Applejack turned around and frowned at Twilight. “You’re still denyin’ that you’re in love with her? Why?”

“Twilight.” Rarity shook her head. “What you want is a relationship. What Sunset is having right now is fun. She’s still not taken—why, if anything, now you’ve got even more of a chance with her! We know she’s not exactly hard to get. It’s just a matter of playing for keeps now, and you already have the emotional bond you need for that.”

“How in tarnation can you still be denyin’ that after you just went through a jealousy fit?”

Twilight pouted. “That doesn’t have to be jealousy. Maybe I’m just hurt because she kept a secret for me?”

“Yeah, and maybe Pinkie Pie will stop eatin’ stuff from the ground if you tell her about rat poison.” Applejack tipped her hat. “Look, sugarcube—we’re not goin’ anywhere till you admit this.”

“Hmm.” Rarity looked at Applejack, then at Twilight. “What if we don’t force it out? Twilight, what if you just… explain to us what you feel about Sunset Shimmer?”

Twilight arched an eyebrow. “Okay. Not love. Bam, done.”

“Dear, I mean in detail.” Rarity smiled at her. “Come on. Humor me?”

And Twilight sighed, tired, weariness setting all over her.

But she humored Rarity anyway.

“Well, she’s a great friend,” she said. She started speaking slowly, but picked up the pace little by little as she went on. “She’s really funny, and we’ve been friends for ages, so we can really hold a conversation. We’ve got very good platonic chemistry.”

Rarity nodded, and waved a hoof. “Okay,” she said. “Go on…?”

“And…” Twilight thought about it. “And I suppose she’s pretty? But I don’t really care about that kind of thing. I just mentioned it because I know you do. And—well, she knows a lot about magic, and… I mean…”

Applejack waggled her eyebrows. “You mean?” she asked.

“It’s just… This is going to sound weird, right?” Twilight gave them a nervous smile. “But I just—I was waiting for something like her, right? All these years with nothing to do… Just, the stagnation, the feeling of emptiness—I missed this!” She pointed at herself. “Look at me! I haven’t had breakfast, I’m extremely busy, I haven’t slept in days! The moment we finish this conversation, I need to go back to the Royal Library and hit the books for hours, or we might all die!”

“Wonderful, indeed,” Rarity said. “I see why you missed it.”

“Oh, it’s just the thrill of the adventure! This is what I live for!” Twilight let out a small chuckle. “Saving the world is—I’m not a daredevil like Dash, but it’s what gives us purpose, girls. It’s what made us who we are, what let us be the best version of ourselves! And once we saved the world for good, once we were left with nothing but a peaceful life…”

Rarity and Applejack looked at each other. Applejack talked. “You got bored.”

“Yes!” Twilight pointed at Applejack and jumped off the bench in excitement. “Exactly! And nothing was coming, and nothing was happening, and it was unbearable—and then she came! And the moment Sunset Shimmer crossed the portal? Oh, suddenly the world is in danger, and she’s got so many issues that I’ll have friendship problems to deal with for years!”

Rarity nodded. “Yeah?”

“Yeah! She is—I like her as a friend, but it goes beyond that, really. She’s my reason to go on! She gives me purpose! She is—!”

And then Twilight stopped talking, and her face fell.

She sat down.

“She is,” she said, now speaking slowly again, “the girl of my dreams.” And then she buried her face in her hooves. “And I am desperately in love with her.”

And, one last time, Applejack and Rarity looked at each other.

(And they should have smiled at this point, because Twilight had finally admitted it—but something really interesting happened.)

(They didn’t).

Commotion at the most important table of the world. Logic is astounded, and can’t believe its eyes. Reality is assessing the situation, not quite getting which way this is going. Mother Nature is impressed, because she feels this appeals to her. Father Civilization is insulted, because this sort of thing has destroyed many of his creations.

And Time is unsure, because he thought his victory was written in stone. But now, not so much.

So what is Fate doing, then, one might ask? The audience looks at him, with held breaths and uneasy eyes.

Fate is looking at the table, and he’s thinking. Because, he explains once he sees the attention he’s getting, because this is actually a really complicated game. How do they fall in love? Because they’re supposed to look at each other, and then there’s a

tink!

in the air. But that means that they both fall in love at the same time. So there’s a binary outcome: either they fall in love, or they don’t. The pieces always act together, because that’s what the players are aiming for.

But what if there’s a third option?

What if one of the pieces is actually ahead of the game?

This has never happened, Fate says, and his gaze never leaves the table. But if it happens—if—it happens, then Time is at a disadvantage. Because now he’s not just playing against Fate.

Time’s playing against Fate and Princess Twilight Sparkle. Time’s playing against the game itself.

So we zoom in into the game, just in time to see…

…Applejack showing off her knack to say exactly the opposite of what Twilight wants to hear:

“Well, Ah’ll be darned,” she muttered, frowning and scratching her forehead. “Are you? ‘Cause, uh.” She looked at Rarity again. “Ah think you ain’t, actually.”

And the silence that followed this statement could have drowned the sound of a bomb.

Twilight looked up, really slowly, and looked at Applejack. When she spoke, she didn’t ask anything. She merely enunciated the words. “Say. What now.”

“Ah think you ain’t in love, turns out?” Applejack repeated, thoroughly clueless at the tone Twilight was using. She was rubbing her chin, lost in thought. Rarity was by her side glaring daggers, but you couldn’t stop Applejack when she was Thinking [4]. “Ah mean, Ah know you’re not gonna like it, but—”

[4] Not thinking, but Thinking. Related, but not the same—just like the difference between an apple and an Apple.

“You’ve been telling me I’m in love,” Twilight said, eyes icey, voice frozen, “for the last thirty minutes.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And the moment I agree with you.”

“Yeah, Ah know, Ah know.”

“You go and—Rarity?” Twilight looked to her left. “Please, tell me you can balance her out? Tell me y—oh Celestia you’re also Thinking.”

Rarity was rubbing her chin. “Hmmm.

“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this!” Twilight buried her face into her hooves once again. “Rarity, your one job is to see romance everywhere, and as soon as I want you to—”

“I do consider myself a connoisseur of the romantic arts, Twilight, dear,” Rarity said, and now a frown made it to her Thinking face. “But precisely because of that…” She looked at Twilight. “I agree with Applejack, I’m afraid.”

“You have to be kidding me!”

“Nah. We thought you were in love but—that ain’t love.” Applejack shrugged. “Sorry. Our mistake.”

“Then what the—”

“A crush, dear.” Rarity stopped Thinking and looked at Twilight again—really looked at her—and in her eyes there was mostly compassion. “Just—a crush. Something that might feel like love, but really isn’t.” Pause. “And it might be just a little bit…?”

“Dangerous?” Applejack offered.

“I was going for ‘uncomfortable’,” Rarity said, nodding. “But that works. If the best you can say about a pony is that she’s trouble incarnate in a utopia, and you mean that as a compliment, then we might be in quite the emotional impasse, all right.” Then, to Twilight: “Darling, I know what we’re saying might not make a lot of sense, but—”

And Twilight just sighed, and got up from the bench. “Nah.” And before any of her friends could do anything, she just started walking—forcing Applejack and Rarity to follow her. “I actually get what you’re saying—it’s not love, it’s obsession, right?” She shook her head. “Some kind of unhealthy crush where I idolize Sunset and all that.”

“Uh.” Applejack blinked, and quickened the pace to reach Twilight. “Yeah! Actually, that’s exactly what we meant!”

“My!” Rarity was also trotting, almost to the point of panting. “Dear, you’re growing self-aware, now? Soon enough, you’ll barely need us!”

“I’m not self-aware, I just know how you two think by this point.” Twilight shrugged. “And honestly, I don’t mind.”

“No?”

“Wha?”

“Yeah. I needed to get this sorted out so I could concentrate on saving the world, right?” Twilight looked at them and smiled. The laughter of children could barely be heard anymore—they were out of the park. “I didn’t know why I was upset after seeing Sunset with a stallion. It’s love.” Pause. “Or a crush. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. Mystery solved.”

Rarity squinted. “Mystery…? Dear, it doesn’t quite work like that.”

“If anythin’ now we gotta talk to you even harder! Ah gotta mom friend you!” Applejack sounded like she was almost panicking. “You’ve got a crush!” her eyes widened. “My little girl is growin’ up!”

Twilight smiled at her. “Har, har. Ponies seem to be really into momming me nowadays. I wonder what my actual mother would think of that, if she knew.” She shook her head, and quickened the pace even harder, until she was actually galloping at full speed. “Doesn’t matter!” she said, looking upfront. “We’ll talk about this later!”

“Darling, an unhealthy obsession with another pony is not the kind of thing you talk about later!”

“It is when you’ve got a list of priorities!” Twilight replied. She was almost smiling, now. Getting rid of a problem—even if only temporarily—was an euphoric sensation, almost aphrodisiacal in nature, and Twilight was making darn sure she was riding that wave to the very end. “And as much as I love Sunset—”

“You don’t love her, dear!”

“Y’all just got the honeyglow for her!”

“Okay, and as much as I’ve got the honeyglow for her—oh my gosh AJ where did you get that that’s adorable—I still have more important things to care about!” Pause. “Also, she’s with the Royal Guard now, so what do I care? It’s not like I can do anything at the moment!”

Rarity scoffed. “Well, you can talk with us! So we give you even more helpful advice!”

“Hee heeh. Thanks!” Applejack said.

Pause.

Rarity looked at her. “Thanks?”

“She said Ah’m adorable!”

“No, she said your countryism was adorable.” Rarity thought about it. “Which, well—it was. But don’t thank her for it!”

“Why not? Ah like compliments! Just ‘cause Ah’m the mom friend doesn’t mean Ah don’t like it when you say nice things to me!”

“Applejack, darling, I’ll tell you nice things all day long later if you want to, but can we please concentrate on Twilight first? This is kind of important!”

Applejack blushed slightly. “Aw, shucks.”

“APPLEJACK THIS IS REALLY NOT THE TIME!”

Then Twilight stopped, and AJ and Rarity almost crashed against her.

“Actually,” she said once she made sure her friends were okay, “this is the perfect moment for it, girls. So you can go and flatter Applejack till your throat runs dry if you want to, Rarity.” Twilight’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve got work to do.”

“Ah’d actually like that!”

“Darling.” Rarity frowned, and looked at Twilight. “We worry about you. What can possibly, in any way, be more important than this? We’re talking about your emotional wellbeing! About your life, Twilight!”

And Twilight just looked at her, and spread her wings a little. In that moment, she looked majestic—like a real princess—and there was no shade of doubt or troubling in her eyes.

Behind her, stood the Royal Library.

“What’s more important than me?” Twilight asked, smiling. “Well, kind of a silly question, Rarity. We have to save the world. And I think Moondancer might be waiting for me.”

And without saying anything else, Twilight Sparkle turned around, and entered the Library.

She did not look back, not once.

Sixth Chapter - You Still Love Them
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Sunsettle For This

Sixth Chapter - You Still Love Them

Saving the world is more art than science, but it’s the kind of art that implies advanced mathematics.

Flower Fall was not your usual threat. Twilight Sparkle had dealt with many dangers in her lifetime, but she had to admit it: explosive time travel was somewhat of a novelty. Befriending the abstract concept of Time was impossible. Shooting lasers at it was equally useless.[1] For the first time in centuries, evil would not be defeated with brawn—but with brains.

[1] It had taken Rainbow Dash several days—and thirty-seven broken clocks—to finally accept this fact.

Which, for Twilight and Moondancer, translated as several weeks trapped in the Royal Library, researching every possible book on advanced magical physics available. Anything else—sleep and sanity, health and hygiene—became secondary.

“But my friends keep saying that’s not good.” Twilight said that morning after hopping off the train. Her eyes were bloodshot, her mane was disheveled, her coat was pale and covered in dust. She looked more dead than alive. “It kinda takes a toll on you!”

Starlight smiled. “Right,” she said. Then, she looked around. “And speaking of tolls on you, where are your friends?”

Twilight blew a raspberry at Starlight for that last comment before replying. “Helping Rarity with her luggage!”

“You need five ponies to help with Rarity’s luggage?”

“Seven, actually. Moondancer and Sunset came with me too, I need them.” Pause. Twilight thought about it for a second. “Wait. Maybe it’s eight? Does Spike count if we’re talking ponies?”

“Eeeh.” Starlight waved a hoof in the air. “I mean, I guess? Kind of?”

“Settle for seven and a half?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.” Twilight nodded, and then pointed back. “Then yeah, you need seven and a half ponies to move Rarity’s luggage.”

“She’s a bit of a caricature sometimes, isn’t she?” Starlight mused, looking at the train. “But I guess that’s why we love her.”

“Oh, definitely. I can’t stay mad at her.”

“I can’t help but notice how you’re the only one not helping with her bags, actually.”

“Yes. That’s why I’m not mad at her.”

“Of course.”

“Well, that, and how she keeps telling me to take better care of myself. She’s almost as bad as Fluttershy sometimes.” Twilight let out a big sigh, and pointed at herself, the bags under her eyes, the state of her mane. “I mean, it’s not like I can really call her a caricature when I look like this.”

“Hmm.” Starlight squinted. “When was the last time you slept for more than two hours at a time?”

“Since Flower Fall started?” Twilight thought about this, too. “I honestly can’t remember. That’s why we’re here! I needed to get away from Canterlot. And the Royal Guard. Especially the Royal Guard.”

“…Why?”

“They’re distracting. Especially when Sunset is around. And—you know what?” Twilight shook her head. “I think I’ve finally figured out what’s the hardest part about saving the world.”

Both mares looked at each other.

Starlight smiled. Her eyes were also bloodshed. Her mane was also disheveled. She was the leading expert in time travel in all of Equestria, and had been helping Twilight with Flower Fall as soon as they’d learned its true nature.

“It’s knowing when to stop,” Twilight said.

Pause.

“…Never?” Starlight asked, cocking her head to the side.

And Twilight immediately went for the hug. “Oh my gosh,” she said, holding Starlight so tight it almost hurt. “Oh my gosh, Starlight. I’ve missed you so much!”

Starlight laughed, and hugged her back.

Around them, flowers didn’t fall.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle,” Starlight said, patting her back. She’d also missed Twilight. “Welcome back to the Crystal Empire.”

SIXTH CHAPTER

YOU STILL LOVE THEM

Time wants to scream.

It’s not just the change in scenery. It’s not unheard of, when the game is reaching a critical point, for a player to move everything to a different city, a different country, a different universe. It amps the stakes. It adds an extra layer of complexity.

So now the pieces are in the Crystal Empire, away from Flower Fall—away from Time’s most immediate influence—but that doesn’t matter. That’s not what’s confusing Time.

What’s confusing him is that Fate didn’t do this.

He’d been looking. He paid close attention. All Fate did was push Twilight towards her friends, to talk about love and her horrible crush. Everything else was Twilight Sparkle’s own volition: to run from Canterlot, to run from the Royal Guards, to include Starlight Glimmer in the game.

This is unheard of. This is something that he doesn’t know what to think of. Because, if Fate is the one moving the pieces around Twilight—he can always move them back. But if the pieces are moving themselves? And if Twilight Sparkle wants to be with Sunset Shimmer?

Then Fate is getting two moves per turn. His, and Twilight’s.

Time should be winning. Sunset is fooling with the Royal Guard, she sees Twilight as a daughter, she couldn’t be less interested in romancing Fate’s piece.

And yet, Time feels like he has never been so desperate.

And as sweat runs down his forehead, he sees with abject horror that Fate is smiling at him right before looking up at Mother Nature. Look, Ma, Fate says. No hands.

He sits back and doesn’t even touch the table.

But the pieces move anyway.

New characters enter the game. A crystal palace, splendorous in its opulence. Shining Armor, the unicorn prince, enters from the right. Flurry Heart, the Alicorn Born, slides in from the left.

Then last, but certainly not least, from the center comes…

“…Her Highness, Princess Cadance!”

And the entire room held its breath.

It was the Crystal Throne Room. Crystal Guards by the door, standing at attention to honor the visit of Equestrian emissaries. The walls were brilliant and blue, the floor was smooth and bright, and nopony noticed any of this, because their attention was on the breathtaking beauty walking through the door.

Some mares aged like wine [2]. Some others aged like milk [3]. And others—the really lucky ones—managed to age like Princess Cadance.

[2] Rarity.

[3] Rarity without makeup.

Describing Princess Cadance was never easy, because nothing really did her justice. She was the physical manifestation of love; the best paintings lacked her aura, the best photos lacked her shine. Words, simply put, were not enough.

Princess Cadance wasn’t just beautiful. Princess Cadance was the reason life was worth living.

And upon seeing Princess Twilight Sparkle in her Throne Room, she squealed like a schoolfilly, yelled “Twilight!” and engaged in a little dance that involved shaking her buttocks in the air with careless abandon.

Her daughter joined them.

Her husband did not.

The Crystal Guards tried not to stare really hard.

“Twilight!” Cadance said again once the whole affair was over, and she nuzzled her sister-in-law. “It’s so great to see you again. How are you?”

Twilight nuzzled Cadance back, as her friends waited behind her and waved at Shining Armor. “Better than ever,” she said. “How are you? Did you get my letter? Canterlot is in dang—”

“AUNTIE TWILIGHT!”

“Flurry Heart!” Twilight’s face immediately beamed. “Hi! You’ve grown so b—AGH!”

Flurry Heart tackled Twilight with a hug.

Plomf.

And they both went down.

“Well. That takes care of that for a while.” Shining Armor [4] stepped up now, giving his floored sister a funny look before addressing everypony else in the room. “I welcome you all to the Crystal Empire. I hope you had a good trip?”

[4] Who, while not as good-looking as his wife, had the kind of face dictionaries use to visually explain the term “silver fox”.

“Twilight sent us a letter that said Canterlot is in danger, and that we all might die,” Cadance added, standing right next to Shining Armor, worry making it to her face. “Is everything okay?”

“Sure!” Pinkie was the first one to reply, so the rest of the group just shut up and immediately appointed her their representative. Easier that way. “Everything’s a-okay, Princess! How are you?”

Moondancer looked at Pinkie, then at Princess Cadance. “No,” she said. “Everything is not a-okay. Canterlot is in danger, and we all might die. That makes it not a-okay.” Pause. “Also, uh. Hi. How are you.”

“I’m fine. Thanks!” Cadance giggled, and offered Moondancer a hoof. “And I don’t think we’ve ever met! Nice to meet you. I’m Princess Cadance.”

Moondancer blinked, and took Cadance’s hoof. “Right. I know. I’m Moondancer.”

Cadance giggled again. “I know!”

“Um.” Fluttershy, standing in the background, leaned close to Applejack and pointed at Twilight. “Applejack?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think Twilight’s okay?” Fluttershy squinted. “I don’t think she’s okay.”

“What? What are you talkin’ about?” Applejack frowned. “She’s smilin’, ain’t she?”

“AUNTIE TWILIGHT! AUNTIE TWILIGHT!”

“And Flurry Heart looks like she’s mighty happy to see her aunt, too,” AJ added, tipping her hat. “That counts as fine ‘n dandy to me!”

“Well.” Spike joined the conversation. “She does look kind of blue?”

“Spike. Twi’s purple.”

“Yeah, but she looks blue.”

“AUNTIE TWILIGHT!”

“flurry i’m really happy to see you too but you’re kind of suffocating me a little bit.”

“AUNTIE TWILIGHT!”

“Yeah.” Starlight Glimmer popped her head from behind Fluttershy, startling her for a second. “Flurry’s got the strength of an alicorn. Her hugs are a big deal, actually.”

Fluttershy frowned. “That sounds dangerous.”

“Well, usually she’s not this affectionate, so it’s not like it’s an issue.”

“AUNTIE TWILIGHT!”

“flurry please i really can’t breathe this is not a joke.”

Spike looked around. Starlight, Applejack, and Fluttershy were all staring at the whole thing without a lot of interest. “Uh,” he eventually said. “Should we help?”

“Nah.” Applejack smiled. “Let ‘em be. Family’s like this sometimes.”

“AUNTIE TWILIGHT!”

“i can taste copper.”

“Uh.” Back at the foreground, Moondancer was still shaking Cadance’s hoof, and looking mighty confused while doing so. “You… know who I am?”

“Of course we do!” Shining Armor said with a goofy smile. “Twilight talks a lot about you. You’re one of her best friends, after all.” He offered a hoof too. “I’m Shining Armor, her big brother.” Pause. “And prince of this empire. But mostly, I’m Twilight’s big brother.”

“Charming. I’m still Moondancer.” Moondancer shook his hoof, too, still feeling a bit awkward. “So, I was—”

“Still not how greetings work, for the record,” Dash whispered from behind her.

“And you can call her Moonie!” Pinkie added.

“No.” Moondancer’s reply was quick like a viper. “I mean. Yes. It’s not how greetings work. But also, no, your Highness, don’t call me—”

“Moonie?” Cadance perked up. “Oh, that’s an adorable name! I have to admit, I am fond of nicknames. Call it a bit of a personal bias.” She giggled. “Given my own name, you see.”

Moondancer blinked. “Uh. Um.”

“Great!” Pinkie said. “So you can call her Moonie then!”

Cadance cocked her head to the side. “Can I?”

There was a pause.

Moondancer, miffed, looked at Cadance.

Cadance, adorable, looked at Moondancer.

And then Moondancer squinted, and looked at Pinkie. “Low blow,” she said.

“Hahah. I told you. You’re a tough one!” Pinkie winked. “But I’m tougher.”

“Great! It’s always lovely to get to know Twilight’s friends.” Cadance laughed. “And please, call me Cadance. Just Cadance. None of that Highness nonsense.” She pointed at Shining Armor. “Same for my husband.”

“Okay. But he calls me Moondancer.”

“Works for me,” Shining Armor said. Then, he poked Cadance’s shoulder. “Honey?” he said, once she looked at him. “I think Flurry Heart is about to kill Twilight over there?”

“there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. it’s so bright. so warm.”

“Oh, right. Flurry, sweetie!” Cadance waved at her daughter. “Flurry, let your aunt go! You’re hugging her too hard!”

“it calls to me.”

“OKAY!”

Flurry Heart let Twilight go.

Credit where credit is due: while Twilight did desperately gasp for air for a couple seconds once her throat was free, it didn’t take her long to get back on her hooves as if nothing had happened. “Aagh.” She coughed, then patted Flurry Heart’s head, earning a delighted cheer from the filly. “Shining Armor,” she said, voice hoarse. “Thanks for the timely assistance.”

“You’re welcome!” Shining Armor replied, grinning. “How was the trip?”

“HI AUNTIE TWILIGHT!”

“Hi, Flurry Heart.” Twilight patted her niece again. “The trip was uneventful, really. I’ll tell you about it later. Also!” And she turned around, sounding confident once more. “This is Sunset Shimmer! Sunset, this is my family! Sorry for Flurry Heart’s outburst, she’s just happy to see me. I’m probably her favorite authority fig—aaaand I’m talking to myself.”

Sunset didn’t reply to this. Mainly, because she was not there. There was a rather obvious, Sunset-Shimmer-shaped hole in the small crowd behind her.

“Well, that’s just great.” Twilight made a face, then turned to Flurry Heart. “So, changing topics completely—Flurry Heart!”

“AUNTIE TWILIGHT!”

“Why don’t you show us your new dance? That’ll be a nice distraction!”

“OKAY!”

“Right, thanks. Rarity!” The moment Flurry Heart started bopping around—and after making sure everypony was looking—Twilight rushed towards Rarity and talked in a way that was both a scream and a whisper at the same time. “Rarity! Where on Equestria is Sunset Shimmer?!”

Rarity didn’t even look at her. “Sorry, can this wait a bit? Your niece is dancing, and it’s really distracting.” Then, she squinted. “I swear to Celestia, she gets cuter every year. She really takes after her mother, doesn’t she?”

“Rarity!”

“What! What.” Rarity looked at Twilight, annoyed—and then noticed her expression. “Oh. Oh, dear. What’s the matter?”

“Sunset is the matter!”

“Right.” Rarity rolled her eyes. “Silly of me to ask. Well, darling, what can I say—I tried to keep her here, but she simply wouldn’t listen.”

“She was supposed to see me interact with Flurry Heart!” Years working at a library had given Twilight the ability to whisperscream better than most, and she sure used her talent here. “I want her to see me under a new light, so I can get a chance with her at some point!”

Rarity squinted. “A new light? Darling, are you…?” Rarity looked at Flurry Heart, then at Twilight again. “Are you trying to get Sunset to choke you or…?

“Yes!” Pause. “Wait. What? No! No, not that!”

“I mean.” Rarity rubbed her chin. In the background, Flurry Heart did a particularly impressive pirouette, and everypony gasped and then proceeded to clap. “I suppose that is an angle, if you really want that. It could work. But frankly, my dear, I would have never guessed that you were into—”

“Rarity oh my gosh no!” Twilight was getting redder by the second. “No! Stop talking, no!”

“—I mean, if you had told me Fluttershy wanted it, I could have seen it, true. But you?” Rarity rubbed her chin some more. “I suppose I don’t know you as well as I thought I—”

“Rarity!” This wasn’t as much a whisperscream as it was an actual scream, period, but luckily for Twilight, Flurry Heart did another particularly impressive pirouette, so the clapping drowned out the yelling. “I don’t want to get choked by—wait. Fluttershy?”

Rarity let out the most devious of smiles. “Hmmm-hmm.”

“Really? Our Fluttershy?” Twilight frowned. “How on Equestria would you know that?”

“We have our little weekly dates at the spa, remember? We talk about a lot of things. She’s a dear, truly.”

“Huh.” Twilight looked at Fluttershy, embarrassment gone from her face. “Well. I guess you can’t judge a book by its cover.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. It’s always the quiet ones, trust me.” Rarity winked. “You know Moondancer? I can assure you that, the moment I get that one to open up, there’ll be a goldmine inside.”

Twilight snorted. “That, I’d like to see.”

“Dear, she wears a turtleneck.” Rarity pointed at Moondancer, who was so enraptured by Flurry Heart’s dance that there was no danger of her eavesdropping. “A black turtleneck. That mare’s got secrets.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“AUNTIE TWILIGHT! AUNTIE TWILIGHT, LOOK! LOOK! ARE YOU LOOKING?”

“Yes, Flurry Heart, Auntie Twilight’s looking!” Twilight yelled immediately, and—to her credit—she did look. Soon enough, her eyes got wide. “Wow,” she said. “She’s so good at this! I’m so proud of her. They grow up so fast.” Then, she glanced at Rarity. “So, I obviously don’t want to get choked by Sunset.”

“Of course.”

“I just wanted her to see me under a new light, right? I was hoping to mom Flurry Heart around a bit, show Sunset my mature side and all that. Between this and the lack of Royal Guards to draw her attention, I thought maybe…”

“Yes, yes, I know, dear.” Rarity waved a hoof in the air. “It was rather obvious. I just thought it was a good opportunity to bring up Fluttershy and her interest in getting choked.”

“Wha?” Applejack broke from the spell of Flurry Heart’s little dance, and she approached Rarity and Twilight with a quick step. “What’s that? Ah heard somethin’ ‘bout Shy gettin’ choked?”

Rarity glared. “And why are you interested?”

“Ah don’t know. Why are you?”

Rarity thought about this for a moment. “Hmph,” she said, then, squinting. “Good save. But I’m watching you.”

“Any time, sugarcube.” Then AJ looked at Twilight. “What were you talkin’ about, though?”

“Sunset Shimmer,” Twilight said.

“Sunset Shimmer,” Rarity said.

“Dumb question,” Applejack said. “Of course it’s Sunset Shimmer. What’s the matter?” Then, AJ looked around. “Huh. Where is she?”

“I don’t know!” Twilight glared. “That’s what I was asking Rarity!”

Rarity made a point. “Okay,” she said, clearly annoyed. “First of all, darling, I don’t remember being appointed Sunset Shimmer’s little guardian. I already told you I don’t think your crush on her is healthy, so why should I care for—”

“Ah mean.” Applejack talked while looking up, to show just how hard she was not listening to Rarity in this exact moment. “If there’s anypony in this group worried enough ‘bout Twilight’s possible romance, that’s definitely you. So it sounds about right that you’d try to keep an eye on Sunset Shimmer.” She looked down, at Rarity. “So it actually surprises me how you didn’t! Show’s a lot of—aaaad you did.”

Rarity pressed a hoof against her chest. “What? How dare you!”

“Yep. Ah can see it in your face.” AJ elbowed Twilight. “See? Left ear’s twitchin’.”

Twilight looked. “Wow. It is!”

“It is not!”

“It absolutely is, sugarcube. That one always twitches when you mess up. It’s like a Pinkie sense, but dumber, and less useful.”

“Well that is just—!”

Applejack winked at Rarity. “And way prettier, mind you. More elegant.”

Pause.

“Okay. Good save.” Rarity’s made a huff. “But I’m still angry.”

“And your ear’s still twitchin’.”

“What?” Dash snapped, and in a heartbeat she was whispering alongside them. “What’s that about Rarity’s ear twitching?”

Applejack glared. “And why do you care?”

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s always great!” Dash looked at Rarity. “Wow. It’s going crazy. She messed up big this time, didn’t she?”

“Eeyup.”

“I said it is not!” Rarity said, covering up her left ear, blush on her cheeks. “And I did not! Stop looking!”

“So.” Dash looked at AJ, then at Twilight, then at Rarity, and then she smirked. “What did I miss?”

“She was supposed to keep her eyes on Sunset Shimmer,” Twilight said, frowning at Rarity.

“Yeah,” AJ added. “‘Cause Twilight has a crush on ‘er.”

Dash rolled her eyes. “Shocker. So where did Sunset Shimmer go?”

Twilight frowned. “What do you mean, shocker?”

“Twilight, you aren’t exactly subtle about this kind of thing.” Dash landed right next to Applejack, and casually leaned on her while arching an eyebrow at Twilight. “Did you notice you started walking like her? It’s hilarious.”

“I do not!”

“Um.” Fluttershy joined the group. “What’s that about Twilight walking?”

“Okay.” Twilight just gave up, and sat on the ground so she could cross her forelegs and glare at all her friends. “This is ridiculous. Is nopony watching my niece dance, or…?”

“AUNTIE TWILIGHT! AUNTIE TWILIGHT, LOOK!”

“I’m looking!” Twilight yelled back. Then she glared at her friends again. “That little filly is giving it her all for us, and you just ignore her so you can gossip?”

“Hey.” Dash pointed. “Pinkie and Moondancer are still super into it.”

“WOO HOO! MOONIE, LOOK AT THAT FILLY GO!”

“Why do I keep hanging out with you.”

“So yeah.” Dash shrugged. “Filly’s getting her fair share.”

“And, um.” Fluttershy was looking down in shame, fiddling with her hooves, but she still talked. “Well,” she said. “She’s really cute. But this is kind of a long dance, to be completely honest.”

“A lil’, yeah,” AJ said, nodding and patting Fluttershy’s back. Fluttershy smiled at her. “Girl’s good, though!”

“Hey. Shy.” Dash nodded at Twilight. “Did you know she has a crush on Sunset Shimmer?”

“…Was I not supposed to?” Shy looked at Twilight and actually arched an eyebrow. “You know you walk exactly like her, right?”

“Okay. Okay! This is getting ridiculous.” Twilight sighed, and just went back to looking at Flurry Heart. The filly was good, after all. “And Rarity—”

“Look, I tried, okay?” Rarity said through gritted teeth. She was still holding her left ear in place. “I tried to keep her from walking away, but she just brushed me off! I couldn’t go and grab her, I didn’t want to make a scene!”

Twilight frowned. “She brushed you off? Why would she do that?”

“Darling, why wouldn’t she? I’m sure Sunset Shimmer is a great mare, and I’m aware that you have a crush on her—but she’s been doing nothing but avoid us ever since she crossed through the portal.” Rarity looked at Twilight [5] and she got as serious as she could, ear and all. “I am being honest when I say I couldn’t do anything.”

[5] Who was still looking at Flurry Heart’s amazing little dance, so this was a completely pointless gesture, but it was the intent that mattered.

And Twilight felt some of this seriousness, because her frown went away, and a look of concern took its place. “She’s been… avoiding you?” she asked.

“She has, darling.”

“A little,” Fluttershy agreed.

“A lot,” Dash said. “Fluttershy is just being polite. Sunset Shimmer has never even talked to us—even during Pinkie’s Welcome Party she never said more than, what, two words in our direction?”

“Well.” Fluttershy frowned. “I’d say three.”

“The word ‘I’m’ counts as one.”

“Oh.” Pause. “Well. Then she said two. But I’m sure she meant three.”

“Are you… I mean, maybe she’s just been busy?” Twilight said. And there was something in her tone—something like sadness. “It’s not like our schedule has been completely empty or anything. Maybe you’re just… imagining things? Or maybe she’s shy?”

And then she looked at them, and her eyes could have broken anypony’s heart. For a moment, maybe even she believed her own words.

But then Applejack took off her hat, pressed it against her chest, and shook her head. “Ah’m sorry, Twi. Ah’m afraid Sunset’s been avoidin’ us. On purpose.” She sighed. “And that’s the truth.”

Twilight frowned, and shook her head. “And that’s really not good,” she said.

“AND THAT’S THE END OF MY DANCE!”

Everypony clapped and cheered at the filly.

“Where did she go?” Twilight asked, barely moving her lips.

“I’m pretty sure she’ll be by the ballroom. One of the Crystal Guards caught her eye.” Rarity saw the face Twilight was making, and her ears drooped. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

And they said nothing else after that. They just kept clapping at Flurry Heart, congratulating her on a job well done.

Sunset Shimmer approached the Crystal Guard with whiskey in her breath and a swing in her hips. The Crystal Guard—on duty—looked back at her, and he had hungry eyes.

Sunset saw this, and after making sure they were alone—nopony else in that corridor—she got even closer and purred the two most dangerous words a mare like her could say.

“Hello, handsome.”

(And there was a

bang!

in the air).

The Crystal Guard, a unicorn, saluted. “Ma’am,” he said. But something in his tone, and his body language, made it clear this wasn’t him being formal. Quite the opposite, really. “You shouldn’t be roaming the Palace by yourself. It could be dangerous.”

“Really?” Sunset chuckled. She was holding a glass of spirits, and she made a point of sipping from it before speaking again. “Well, I wonder why.”

“Well, ma’am. This is a big place. It’s easy to get lost.” The Crystal Guard dropped his salute, and visibly relaxed. “The name’s Chandelier.”

“Ooh. I might want a swing in later.” Sunset offered her hoof, and the Crystal Guard kissed it. “Sunset Shimmer.”

“I know,” Chandelier said. He was tall, and handsome, and old enough to mean business. He let go of Sunset’s hoof, but lingered on it just long enough. “Part of Princess Twilight Sparkle’s group of emissaries, right?” He smiled. “Rumor says Canterlot is in danger, and that’s why you’re here. Is that true?”

Another sip. “It seems so.”

“YEAH, IT SEEMS SO INDEED!”

Then, there was a poof! and a bit of smoke, and then love was not in the air anymore.

Sunset flinched.

Chandelier yelped.

And Twilight Sparkle appeared out of nowhere.

If there’s such a thing as a magical feat, the award should definitely go to teleportation: the art of being there, and then being somewhere else. It’s complexity by subtraction. All you need to do is move. Everything else—space, time, logic, reason—you simply ignore.

So anything that might happen when a pony appears, be it smoke, or sparks, or a funny sound? That’s not needed, and is probably there for extra flair. That’s just the unicorn who teleported signaling as clearly as possible that not only did they master this impossibly convoluted spell—they added a layer of extra difficulty.

For literally no reason.

Just because they could.

So for Chandelier, who was tall, and handsome, and old enough to be young and still mean business, seeing Twilight Sparkle effortlessly appear out of nowhere was humiliating enough [6]. But the smoke, the flash, and the words of the Princess before she even made an appearance? That wasn’t humiliation. That was outright emasculation.

[6] Unicorns use their horns to cast magic. There was a very interesting shade of symbolism in the works here, and Chandelier didn’t appreciate it, not one bit.

And then Twilight just stood there, between Sunset and Chandelier, excreting pure unadulterated swagger through every single one of her pores. Then, she looked at Chandelier, and the smile she gave him was many things, but definitely not sweet.

“That’ll be all,” she said. “Thank you for your service. If you’d excuse me, we have something to talk about.”

Then she turned around, leaving Chandelier to find himself an exit.

And that was that for Chandelier, and none of the two mares ever saw the poor guard again.

“Well.” Sunset didn’t speak until Chandelier turned the corner and left them alone in that gigantic corridor, right by the ballroom. “Thanks for completely ruining the moment.”

This time, the smile Twilight gave was sweet. “You’re welcome!” she said. “Was he bothering you?”

“Not nearly enough, trust me.” Sunset made a face, and—after giving the corner in which Chandelier had disappeared a longing look, that maybe meant good-bye—she turned around and started walking towards the Throne Room, frown burrowed. “Why are you here, again?”

“Wow.” Twilight effortlessly matched Sunset’s pace. “Rude. And… Well, it’s been a while since we hung out. Not since the dinner with Celestia, at least, and I thought we could…” She saw Sunset’s face. “Aw, come on, don’t look at me like that. He was just a Guard, wasn’t he?” Twilight looked back—pointless; he was already gone—and then shrugged. “Did you know him?”

Sunset finished her glass of whiskey in one big gulp. “No, but I was trying to!”

“Well, you can do that later. We’re busy now! Wait, it’s faster through here.” Then Twilight stopped, flashed her horn—and the doors to the ballroom opened. It was an enormous room, able to fit thousands of ponies at a time, and it was completely empty. Their hoofsteps echoed across a hundred times. A beautiful glass chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling. “We’re supposed to attend Cadance’s formal lunch, and we can’t do that without you.”

“Ugh.” Sunset rolled her eyes, but she did follow Twilight to the ballroom. “Great. Another dinner with a princess I don’t want to attend.”

“Lunch. This is lunch. Totally different.”

“Is she also going to insult my general existence, or…?”

“Hmm.” Twilight thought about this for a second, and then just looked at Sunset. “I don’t think so! You’re in luck today.”

“Joy.”

“Pfft.” Twilight couldn’t help but chuckle at her—and after that, Sunset also found herself laughing a bit. “You really don’t waste any time, though, do you? How long did it take you to find this guy, again?”

Sunset winked at her. “Around thirty seconds from the moment I stepped into the Palace. Jealous?”

“I try not to be.” Pause. “Wait, was that whiskey in that glass?”

Sunset threw the glass over her shoulder. It crashed loudly against the ground. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Where did you even find that?”

“I don’t know. Is that really what you want to talk about?”

“I—” Twilight blinked. That was a good question, actually. She shook her head and took a deep breath, making a mental note to ask about the whiskey later. “Right. No, just—look, we haven’t talked a lot these last few days. Sorry for that. You know I’ve been busy.”

Sunset made a face. “Hmm-hmm.”

“And thing is, there’s stuff we need to talk about. I should have approached you, and…” A gulp. “And I need to apologize. For everything that happened with Princess Celestia, and all that business about the dinner, and—”

“—And it took you,” Sunset interrupted, “almost two weeks to come to me and apologize for that?” But her voice wasn’t particularly cutting. Rather, she was smiling at Twilight, like they were sharing some kind of twisted inside joke. “Instead of, say, approaching me day or two after the whole business?”

Twilight was taken aback. The shock was enough for her to stop walking for a second or two, and then she had to hurry to catch up to Sunset. “I—I mean, I just—”

Sunset leaned towards her. Her breath smelled like whiskey and coffee. “You just?” she asked. “Because I don’t think you were that busy. I think you were avoiding me.” She leaned closer. “Were you?”

“I…” Twilight gulped. A light blush crept to her face, and she was aware of this, which made it even worse. “You… I…”

There was the smallest of pauses. At some point, without Twilight realizing, they’d stopped walking. They were simply standing in the middle of the ballroom, looking at each other.

Then, Sunset grinned. “You saw me go elbow-deep in that Royal Guard.”

“OH MY GOSH! ISAW EVERYTHING!”

“Pfffff.” Sunset rolled her eyes. “Called it.”

“I SAW EVERY SINGLE DETAIL! I SAW WHAT YOU WERE DOING WITH HIS TAIL!”

“And then you had no idea how to face me.”

“HOW IS WHAT YOU DID EVEN LEGAL?!”

“Sweet heavens.” Sunset got closer to Twilight and patted her head. “Twilight, you’re adorable. You’re adorable, and I love you—but Celestia do you need a boyfriend.”

Twilight whimpered. “Come on! That was traumatizing!”

“Yes, yes, I know. It’s awkward to talk to someone after you see…” Sunset waved a hoof in the air. “That.”

“And with a Royal Guard!” Twilight looked at Sunset, pleading. “Why a Royal Guard?”

“Because they were available, mostly? Look, a mare has needs.” Sunset shrugged, and kept on walking. Twilight followed. “I was there, they were there, it sorta happened.”

“Yuck.” Twilight made a face. “That’s—yuck.”

“Hey. They’re pretty handsome. I’m all for a buff stallion, if you ask me. You do realize I’ve lived among humans for years, right?” Sunset chuckled. “Breath of fresh air right there.”

“Right, yes, just—ugh.” Twilight took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. After seeing that, I just—I had no idea how to…” She squinted. “Talk to you?”

“Yeah, I know.” Sunset smiled at Twilight. “I mean, you did see me in a really compromising position there. I get you.”

Twilight nodded. “It’s… I feel it’s not enough of an excuse, though. I’m sorry.” She sighed. “For everything that happened at the dinner, and with Princess Celestia, and—”

“Oh, no need.” Sunset shook her head. “I wasn’t angry in the first place.”

Pause.

Twilight frowned at Sunset. “What? But you—you ran away! Weren’t you crying after that?”

“Nah. Not really.” Sunset sighed. “Look—was I hurt? Sure! Was the dinner a horrible idea? Absolutely! But it was an honest mistake. You simply didn’t know better.” Sunset turned to Twilight, and patted her again. “You tried your best, and I’m sure you learned a thing or two from this. So, we’re good.”

Twilight frowned, and slapped Sunset’s hoof away. “Don’t mom me,” she said.

“Sure, sure.” Sunset was still smiling. “And for all it’s worth—sorry for hiding my little nightly adventures with the Royal Guard. I knew you’d react like this, but I still should’ve said something.” Pause. “If anything, to avoid this kind of situation.”

“Ugh. Seriously. Royal Guards.” Twilight shuddered—and the echo at the ballroom made it sound like there was a huge crowd trembling around them—then started walking a bit faster. “What do you even see in them? Even here at the Crystal Empire, you go for them. They’re so—”

“Crystal Guards. In here, they’re Crystal Guards. Totally different.”

“—right.” Twilight rolled her eyes. “They’re so uppity! Doesn’t that annoy you?”

Sunset glared. “Twilight.”

“Yes?”

“You count Rarity as one of your best friends.”

Pause.

“Okay.” Twilight nodded, and slowed the pace so Sunset could be by her side again. “Good point. I take that back.”

“Thank you. So.” Sunset looked at Twilight. “We cool, now? I don’t mind the dinner, you don’t mind the Guards?”

Twilight frowned. “I do mind the Guards.”

“Okay. Then I do mind the dinner. Call it a tie.” Sunset rolled her eyes. “Come on, we have a lot to catch up on. Can’t we just not talk about this anymore?”

“Hmm.” Twilight rubbed her chin. “Well, that’s—honestly, that’s the best we can do. And we do have a lot to talk about, actually.”

“Sure we do.” Sunset blinked. “Hey. You know what?”

“Hm?”

“You should go out with me!”

Twilight didn’t perk up.

She practically bounced at Sunset.

“I—what?” She blinked. “What? What?”

“For dinner?” Sunset added. “We can catch up. And I can make sure you eat enough food—you look thin. We can even go out after that for a bit! You know?” She winked at her. “Go to a pub, see if we can find a couple nice stallions… It’ll be fun!”

“Oh.” Twilight’s ears went down. “You meant that. Right.”

“That a yes?”

“I… I don’t know. I’m busy.” Twilight looked to the side, trying to regain her composure. “We’ll see. I don’t think we can do this tonight, I have to spend some time with my family.” Pause. Twilight turned around, eyes suddenly hard once again. “Which reminds me!”

Sunset flinched. “Eh?”

“Let me just tell you.” Twilight poked Sunset’s side with a hoof, making her flinch for the second time in a row. “By leaving like that—which, by the way, was really rude—you completely missed my niece’s little dance.” She held her snout high with pride. “And she was adorable!”

“Your niece?” Sunset asked. They were by the middle of the ballroom by now,and the echo was greater than ever. “That cute filly—”

“Yes!” Twilight said, grinning. “That one!”

“—Who tried to kill you?”

Twilight blinked. “What?”

“You know.” Sunset pointed at Twilight’s neck, where—if you squinted and looked hard enough—some bruises were still recognizable. “She tried to suffocate you and all that. You’re not really good with children, are you?”

“What? No!” Twilight shook her head. “I mean—yes! Yes, I’m good with children! And no, she didn’t try to kill me. That was a hug!”

Eyebrow up. “A hug.”

“A hug!”

“You know they’re not supposed to hug your windpipe, right?”

“Pff.” Twilight quickened her pace, forcing Sunset to walk faster just to keep up. “I’ll let you know that I’m wonderful with children. Did you know I’m the most popular princess among them? They think,” and she couldn’t help a bit of a smile here, “that I’m really cool.”

Sunset smiled back. “Yeah?” she said. Then: “Yeah. Yeah, I can see that.”

Twilight’s ears perked up, and her eyes widened up. “You do?!” she asked, and she was so earnest she even fluttered her wings a bit. “Do you, really?! Dash always says I might be delusional!”

“Yeah! I do see it.” Sunset laughed. “I mean, think about it. Sure, you’re kind of into books, which is lame—but how many times have you saved the world, again? And didn’t you once zap Tirek into oblivion?”

Twilight shook her head, still grinning like an idiot. “Not really,” she admitted. “Well. I did. But that’s not what defeated him.”

“No?”

“No. We did that with friendship. You know, for a change.”

“Right.” Sunset nodded. “But friendship in the form of lasers still, right?”

“Yeah.”

“There you go, then.” Sunset waved a hoof. “I can see children ignoring the friendship in favor of lasers. It’s more flashy that way. You're pretty much a superhero, only you’re also an alicorn.” Pause. “So, you’re literally just a superhero.”

Twilight giggled. “Thanks!”

“So you get along with your niece, then?”

“With Flurry Heart?” Twilight nodded. “She’s lovely. She’s great.”

“Glad to hear that.” Sunset looked forward from this point on, not quite addressing Twilight as she spoke. “And, uh. Sorry for leaving. Just, y’know, Cadance sorta…”

Twilight frowned. “Cadance sorta?”

“…Nothing. You know, as much as this makes sense now that you say it—I wouldn’t have guessed that you got along with children if you had asked me earlier.”

Twilight cocked her head to the side. There was some deviousness in her gesture, but Sunset wasn’t looking, so she didn’t appreciate it. “No?” Twilight asked, voice innocent.

“Not really. But it’s good to be good with children. It can be useful.”

“Yeah. You know what?” And Twilight looked forward too, but gave Sunset a side glance as she spoke. “I honestly think I find kids easy because most of the adults in my life act like total children.” Pause for emphasis, and then Twilight leaned towards Sunset. “Don’t you think?”

Sunset rolled her eyes, and pushed Twilight aside. Twilight giggled at this.

They were almost out of the ballroom now. Not as much echo. The exit was just a couple steps ahead.

“She still totally tried to choke you, though.”

“She did not!”

“Your niece wants to kill you.”

“Shut up.” Pause. Twilight squinted. “By the way,” she said. “Speaking about choking—did you know that Fluttershy apparently…?” She coughed. “…You know?”

Sunset finally looked at Twilight, here. “Fluttershy?” she asked. “Really?”

“Apparently, yeah. I just found out.” Twilight shook her head. “Weird, right?”

“Sure. Fluttershy?” They made it to the door, but Twilight didn’t open it just yet—so Sunset just stood there, waiting. “I mean, if you had told me Rainbow Dash was like that, I wouldn’t have been surprised. But, Fluttershy?”

Twilight blinked. “Rainbow Dash?”

“Come on, don’t tell me it doesn’t make sense.”

“I… guess? I’m not really good with this kind of thing.” Twilight rubbed her chin and frowned. “I mean, I suppose Applejack showed some interest when we mentioned it, but—”

“Oh, yeah.” Sunset clapped, and pointed at Twilight. “There. Applejack, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I mean, she’s pretty much Rainbow Dash without the wings anyway. Not the most original of characters. I see her stealing that from Dash.”

Twilight shook her head. “Next thing you tell me, all of my friends are freaks in one way or the other?”

Pause.

Sunset looked at Twilight.

Twilight looked at Sunset.

“…Don’t answer that, please.”

“Yeah, better if I don’t.” Sunset tapped her hoof on the ground twice, and then pointed at the door. “So,” she said. “Are we going, or…?”

“Sure! Sure.” But Twilight didn’t open the door yet. “Just… Now that we’re talking about my friends—”

“The freaks, yes.”

“—I—okay but they’re relatively normal, right?”

“Sure.” Sunset arched an eyebrow. “In a group that includes Pinkie Pie.”

“…Point taken.” Twilight smiled. “But see, this is what I wanted to talk about.” She rested her back on the door and looked at Sunset. “You know my friends really well, don’t you?”

“Well.” Sunset sat down, too. “I guess I spent most of highschool hanging out with them, yeah.”

Twilight nodded. “And then?”

“Then, what?”

“Then, what happened?” Twilight sighed. “You’ve mentioned that Principal Celestia was the only person you kept talking to over the years. You also said that it was better if you didn’t talk about your friends.” She scratched the back of her neck. “And… well. Rarity told me that you’ve been avoiding them a lot lately.”

There was a moment of quietness.

Seeing how Sunset wasn’t speaking, Twilight spoke again. “They were your best friends. Why would you stop talking to each other like that?”

Sunset finally moved. She sighed, and she looked to the side. “You don’t really want to know,” she said.

But there was something in her voice that sounded a bit deeper than usual.

So Twilight leaned towards Sunset, voice soft, eyes sparkling. “I think,” she said, “I do want to know.”

“No. No, you don’t.” Sunset looked at Twilight, and there was something in her eye that made Twilight stare. A hint of fire, perhaps. A spark of passion. “Twilight, you know I love you. You know I really do. I’d do anything for you.”

Twilight was taken aback. “I—”

“But you keep trying to do this thing.” Sunset pointed at Twilight, at herself, at the ballroom, at the door. “This… whole thing you’re doing right now. And I honestly can’t stand it. Can’t we just… not?”

“Thing?” Twilight tried to be gentle. She knew this wasn’t personal. So she just kept her voice down, and kept her eyes up, and talked to Sunset like one talks to a hurt animal. “What thing?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Sunset.” Twilight smiled. “I just want to ask why you’re avoiding Rarity and the others.”

“I—”

Sunset swallowed. She didn’t look away.

And then she just let her breath out in one big sigh.

“Look.” Sunset rubbed the space between her eyes. “I—I know it’s weird, okay? I’m sorry if I made your friends feel awkward or something. I didn’t mean to. It’s just…” She shook her head. “They’re your friends. Not mine. I like you, and I care about you, but you can’t force me to like them. That’s not how it works.”

Twilight laughed softly. “Yeah,” she said. “I learned that lesson long ago, with Starlight Glimmer.”

“Yeah?” Sunset smiled back.

“Yeah. She ended up getting along with Trixie, of all ponies. It was an… interesting adventure.” Twilight shrugged. “But everypony’s allowed their own circle of friends, strange as it might be. I know that.”

And Sunset visibly relaxed. “Good,” she said. “Good. Then—it’s really just that, Twilight. Seriously.”

Twilight looked at her. “Right.”

“It’s not that they’re bad or anything, it’s just—I’m way older than all of you, right?” Sunset pointed at herself, and laughed a little. She had small wrinkles around her eyes, but if anything, they only made her look better. “And I suppose I’m simply not in the same mindset. You’re special, but—”

“I don’t think that’s quite true, though,” Twilight said. She grabbed Sunset’s cheek, and she forced her to look into her eyes. “Sunset, you know Moondancer?”

“Gosh, I wish I didn’t.”

“Right. See that?” Twilight pointed at Sunset. “That? My point exactly. You don’t get along with her. But that doesn’t mean you avoid her.” She rolled her eyes. “In fact, you purposely go out of your way to bother her as much as possible.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

Pause.

“I do.” Sunset squinted. “But she deserves it.”

“Yes, yes, she wears a turtleneck, we all got that. But, look.” Twilight sighed. “You don’t avoid Moondancer, you pick fights with her. That’s how you deal with ponies you dislike.” She looked at Sunset, dead in the eye. “But you don’t do that with Rarity and the others. Have you held a single conversation with any of them, ever since you came to Equestria?”

Sunset frowned.

Time frowns.

Wait, he thinks. Wait. She didn’t? He looks back into himself, tries to see the rest of the game. Twilight is cornering Sunset, Fate is forcing him to play to his rhythm—there must be something there, something to change the subject.

And Fate says, oh, don’t bother.

Time looks at him.

Fate smiles.

Sunset has never talked with any of Twilight Sparkle’s friends. She’s only said two sentences, three tops, and only whenever Twilight was around. Because Time focuses all his efforts in his piece, and all his wits in one move: keep moving forward. Keep passing. Keep wasting away Sunset’s life.

But Fate? Fate’s different than that. Fate links every pony on the game, every individual on the battlefield. Fate uses many tricks, and moves all across the board. And his tricks might not be as powerful as Time’s one, all-defeating move…

…but he’s been planning this for oh, so long.

Sunset frowned harder. “I—”

“You haven’t.”

“…I haven’t.”

“You can’t pick a fight with them like you do with Moondancer. You just run away, every single time.” Twilight smiled. “You still love them.”

Sunset flinched.

Twilight kept looking at her.

And then Sunset relaxed, pushed Twilight aside—gently—and rubbed the space between her eyes, suddenly looking much less fragile. “Ugh,” she said, crossing her front legs in front of her chest. “No. Seriously. Do we really need to do this?”

The sudden reaction got Twilight to flinch again, and when she talked this time, she sounded much more normal. “Sunset,” she said, almost frowning. “I’m trying to help you here.”

“Yeah, but what if you don’t help me? I mean, have we tried that?” Sunset uncrossed her legs and got up. “Look. Your friends are your friends. My friends are my friends. I don’t want to talk to your friends, and that’s that. Is that really that hard to accept?”

“It is, yes.” Twilight arched an eyebrow. “Especially when it’s obviously hurting you this much.”

“Oh, come on!”

“No, no, no, don’t come on me. This isn’t a conversation you can come on your way out of.” Twilight got up, too, so she could be at eye level with Sunset. “I want to help you. And, hey—remember how a couple minutes ago you said you loved me? And would do anything for me?”

Sunset scoffed. “You’re really going to use that argument.”

“Yes, Sunset. Because turns out, I love you too. Dearly.” Twilight pressed a hoof against her chest. “From the bottom of my heart. And I think, if you really love me as much as you say, you’ll understand how I want you to be happy. No matter the cost.”

Silence.

“Well, hot dang,” Sunset said. “That’s a low blow.”

Twilight smirked. “It is, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely. Caught me off-guard, too. Good one.” And Sunset smirked, too, despite herself. “But don’t get too cocky. You learned from the best.”

“Yeah. From Rarity.”

“I—” Sunset blinked. “Shoot. Good point.”

Twilight smirked a bit harder. “Hmm-hm.”

Sunset let out a chuckle, and then she sat down again. “Sure. And—look. You want me to say it? Fine. I’ll say it.” She took a deep breath. “I do still love those girls. They were my world in highschool. They offered me a hand after I tried to destroy their world, and forgave me when they didn’t have to. They gave me the only place I could call a home of my own ever since I ran from Celestia.”

Twilight nodded. “I know.”

“So. Do I avoid your friends?” Sunset nodded. “Yes. Do I do this because I’m really not over what happened with my friends back in highschool?” She nodded again. “Absolutely. Do I still love those girls?” A third nod. “Yes. To a point.”

Twilight sat down next to Sunset. “You’re finally being honest.”

“Oh, I’m only starting. Because,” and she raised a hoof to make sure Twilight didn’t interrupt her, “do I want to talk about this, or do I need to?”

Twilight looked at Sunset.

Sunset looked at Twilight.

“Are you going to say ye—”

“I’m going to say no.”

“Aaw.”

“Look, I know this is like, counterintuitive to you.” Sunset shrugged. “And honestly, that’s part of what makes you such a good friend. Really! But we don’t have to go through every single one of my traumas, magically solving all of them. First, because I don’t want you to.” She arched an eyebrow. “Second, because you can’t.”

Twilight frowned. “Sunset. Nothing was ever solved by running away.”

“Yeah, but remember the dinner with Princess Celestia? That went well, didn’t it?” Sunset shook her head and waved a hoof. “Look, that ship sailed. I’m still a bit hurt, but the only way to deal with this is to wait it out. We’re not going to go back to the human lands, chasing every single one of the girls so I can have a heart-to-heart.”

Twilight nodded. “But my friends are here,” she said. “Right now. In this very palace.”

“Yes, but they’re not my friends. They’re yours. They just look like mine, which is… just enough to make me uncomfortable?” Sunset shook her head. “But definitely not enough to, you know. Matter.”

“They could still give you closure.”

“I don’t want closure, though. I just want to forget about it.” Sunset sighed. “Look, closure is overrated. A lot of things never get it, and nine times out of ten, it’s just an excuse to pick at old wounds. I left all that stuff behind me, Twilight. There’s a reason I ran away from them.”

Twilight frowned. She leaned towards Sunset. “But…” she said. “What even happened between you and them? How could they just abandon you like that, after all the things you went through together?”

Sunset clicked her tongue. “They grew up. I didn’t.”

“I would like something more specific than that.”

“I suppose. But that’s between them and me. No offense, but you weren’t there, and you had nothing to do with it.” Sunset looked at Twilight. “And honestly, I don’t want to go through another Princess Celestia. With her I didn’t care—I always got along with Principal Celestia anyway. But with your friends? I don’t know if I’d…”

Twilight made a face. “Endure it?”

“Enjoy it.” Sunset sighed. “And I doubt this time Pinkie would have a party to ease the edge off once I’m, you know, trying not to break down.”

“Sunset…” Twilight grabbed one of Sunset’s hooves. “I don’t want to break down. And I’m sure that it wouldn’t be like with Princess Celestia.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I’m sure of it.” She grasped Sunset’s hoof a bit tighter. “I know them. I know you.”

Sunset rolled her eyes and shook Twilight’s hoof off. “Well, yeah, but that still leaves us with the fact that they’re not my friends anyway. Like, even the best case scenario—which I suppose would be them not telling me that I wasted my life and that I’m naturally evil, I suppose—would be completely useless.”

“But you would gain new friends!” Twilight said. “You know you can get along with them. Don’t you want that? To not be this lonely? To have somepony other than me to rely on?”

Sunset arched an eyebrow. “Well, that’d be great,” she said. “But… getting the exact same group of friends as in highschool? Only, with slightly different backstories?” She waved a hoof. “Eeeh. I don’t do nostalgia.”

“We all do nostalgia, Sunset.”

“No. You do.” Sunset looked at Twilight. “No offense, but the one who’s keen on reliving her past is you. I’m supposed to be here to get a new life. You want to go back to your old days of glory. Which, hey, fine by me? But don’t drag me into it, please.”

“I’m not dragging you anywhere.”

“You are.”

Pause.

“I am.” Twilight nodded. “I totally am. But that’s because—well, you came all the way here to Equestria to get help, didn’t you?” She poked Sunset on the chest. “You asked me for help. Because you need it.”

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Yes. Okay, good point, but—”

“And that’s what I’m trying to do! Look, I’m not just saying you should get along with my friends because it would be easy for me.” Twilight shrugged. “Although, it would be. You two are the most important things in my life right now, so if you could get along it would make things so much simpler, I’m not going to lie.”

“You’re sounding so selfless right now, Twilight.”

“I am selfless!” Pause. Twilight smiled. “Well. A little. Sometimes you need to be a bit selfish when it comes to friendship, I think. By helping you, I also help myself, right? It’s a two-way street.”

Sunset shrugged. “You’re the expert.”

“I sure am. But again, this is more than just that. It’s just…” Twilight sighed. “Sunset, I suppose we can both agree that most of the… problems that you cause, or that haunt you, come from your habit of, well.” Looking for a way to say this in a more sensitive way was almost impossible, so Twilight just took the Applejack route. “From your habit of running away from everything.”

The way Twilight said this made Sunset step away a little bit—but when she talked, her tone was light. “Okay,” she said, small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I sort of agree? But I’d say there’s more to it than just—”

“So it all started when you ran away from Princess Celestia,” Twilight cut, shaking her head. “Into the human lands. Then you ran away from your highschool friends, and that pretty much ruined your life over there.”

Sunset frowned. “Hey, I didn’t run away from them. Technically.”

“You did, though.”

“You don’t know that! I’ve been vague when talking about the incident.” Sunset tapped her muzzle twice, and cracked a smile. “So I know as a fact that you have no idea—”

“You literally said that you ran away from them, like, four minutes ago,” Twilight said. “Word for word.”

Pause.

“…I did?”

“Yeah.”

“Shoot.” Sunset looked down and frowned. “I think I did. Ugh. That was a slip.”

“Yeah, a telling one. So.” Twilight waved a hoof. “That ruined your life. Then you tried to turn into an alcoholic—yeah don’t think I forgot you were drinking whiskey, there, I’m keeping track of you—to run away from everything.”

“Hmm.”

“Then, you ran away from Princess Celestia at the dinner—yes, I know, that was my fault, sorry—and now you’re running away from your friends. Or my friends. Both.” A blink. “I mean, and technically, you running away back here might end up destroying Canterlot. So, you know.”

Sunset sighed, and leaned against the wall. “I know? I know what?”

“That running away has never really helped you, but you keep trying to do it anyway?”

“Well.” Sunset shook her head and then pawed at the ground absentmindedly. “I think you’re stretching it a bit, regarding Princess Celestia. I didn’t really run away.”

Twilight chuckled. “You absolutely did.”

“Okay, yes, I did—but by then everything was ruined already, right?”

And Twilight shook her head. “I’m afraid trying to get drunk as fast as possible to avoid listening to the princess counts as trying to get away from there, Sunset. Sure, not what caused the problem—but you still tried it, right?”

Sunset half-nodded. “I mean, okay. Good analysis. Buuuut, if you think about it.” She pointed at her own head. “We can just see that as me always looking forward in life. Which is really good, right?”

Twilight shook her head again. “It’s really not.”

“No, no. I think it is.” Sunset swifted a bit to get more comfortable, and then looked at Twilight. “You know? I think you’re forgetting something. Sure, you want to help me—but you need help too, right? It’s a two-way street. You said that.”

Twilight had said that. “Yyyes,” she said. “I… suppose?”

“Hmm-hmm.” Sunset kept pawing at the ground. “And you know what I think your problem is, Twilight Sparkle?”

“That I don’t have a boyf—”

“That you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“I honestly don’t understand how I keep putting up with you.”

“But,” Sunset added, “I’ll admit that’s not as much the problem as it’s just a symptom. Because I think your problem is exactly the opposite of mine, here.”

Twilight arched an eyebrow. “That I don’t run away from my problems?”

“Yes. No.” Sunset shook her head. “No, not that. It’s that you’re always looking backwards. At the past. You’re not letting it go.” She frowned. “With a pretty face like yours? You don’t have a boyfriend because you don’t want to. Because you’ve never had a boyfriend, and I think you’re so focused on reliving your golden days that you’ve grown scared of the future.”

“Pfffft.” If Twilight had rolled her eyes any harder, she would have seen her brain. “Well, now who’s reaching?”

“Oh, come on!” Sunset smiled, and punched Twilight’s shoulder. “You won’t shut up about how you love the way Flower Fall reminds you of those days where you fought monsters. You keep overworking yourself, because that’s what you used to do back then. And you keep wanting me to reconnect with my past! You’re obsessed with it!”

“Well, yes, but that’s just because you—”

“And all that stuff about Princess Celestia, too. You said that everypony does nostalgia, but I think it’s mostly you.” Sunset blinked. “Hey, and even Flower Fall itself is sort of… Something, something, time travel, right? The Past coming back to hunt Canterlot?”

Pause.

Twilight squinted. “I mean, technically you’re correct, but that’s not—”

“I’m making a really good point, and you know it.”

“…You’re making a really good point, and I know it.” Twilight sighed, and rested her back on the wall, too. At that moment, Sunset and her were perfect mirrors of each other. “So, okay. I guess that might be an issue.” She glanced at Sunset. “It’s not ruining my life, though, I must say. I’m doing pretty fine.”

“How’s that ennui treating you, again?”

“Sunset, you were homeless for years. Your choices in life led you to meet Squattin’ Steve. You can’t really compare both things.”

Sunset waved a hoof. “Details.”

“And how does anything we’ve just said matter, anyway? You’re still running away from your problems. And my friends.” Twilight winked at Sunset. “I only see one way to fix that, if you catch my drift…?”

“Ugh.”

“Sunset, come on! This is a literal friendship problem. You know I’m the best at those!”

“Yes, sure, okay. You are.” Sunset crossed her forelegs in front of her chest. “But… Can’t we just not—”

“You need to deal with this. I can’t be your only friend in Equestria. Right now, with Flower Fall and everything else, it makes sense for us to be focused.” Twilight looked up, at the chandelier hanging from the center of the roof. “But what about the long term? What do you think will happen once we fix Flower Fall?”

Sunset thought about it. “Uuuuh,” she said. “I guess we’ll just… keep being friends?”

“Sure. Absolutely.” Twilight winked at Sunset. “Count on that. But you can’t live with me being the only pony in your life. Even I know that’s a really bad idea, no matter how appealing it is, in a weird way.”

Sunset let a smirk make it to her face, and then she moved slightly closer to Twilight. “Appealing, you say?”

“Not the focus.” Twilight looked at her. “Be honest—do the Royal Guards mean anything to you? Rarity and Applejack made it sound like they were just a series of one-night-stands. Are you friends with them?”

The smirk didn’t falter, but Sunset looked away. “Well,” she said, shrugging. “They aren’t anything serious, to be honest. Just, a little bit of harmless fun.”

Twilight nodded. “So they’re nothing particularly important.”

“Not really, no. Something to pass the night.”

“Hmm.”

They both stood in silence for a bit, looking at the chandelier.

It was a pretty chandelier. It was made of crystal—big surprise there—but unlike most things in the Palace, its color wasn’t blue or purple. It was orange, and yellow, and red, and golden. It looked warmth and inviting, like there were embers inside.

It made Twilight think about Sunset’s mane.

It made Sunset think about fire, and the Crystal Guard that ran away.

Then Twilight turned to Sunset. “Can I ask you a question?”

Sunset smiled. “Now you’re asking permission?”

“Just being polite.” Twilight went back to look at the chandelier. “Have you ever thought about having something more than the Royal Guards? Something more than a simple one-night-stand?”

“Huh. Twilight Sparkle talking about romance.” Sunset nodded to herself. “Color me surprised.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Something more.” Sunset rested her head on the wall. “You mean, like an actual relationship? A romantic one? Long-term?”

“Yeah.”

“Eeeh. I never thought about it.” Sunset smirked. “I mean, I guess, if the Royal Guard is rich enough…”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “I’m being serious.”

“I’m really not. It’s not something I think about, to be honest.” Sunset shrugged. “Maybe?”

“Hmm.”

“Why are you interested? Want to know if I’d run away from a relationship?”

Twilight’s answer was immediate. “Yes.”

“Ah.”

“Absolutely.”

“Well. Okay, I mean—I see why you’d do that.” Sunset squinted. “But you could at least lie about it.”

“Not my thing.” Twilight sighed. “And I think… Well, I’m just interested.” She hesitated a bit before saying the next thing. “You know, I wouldn’t mind it.”

Sunset perked up her ears. “Oh?”

“Having a long-term relationship.” Twilight laughed a little—she didn’t really mean to, but she did it anyway—and then fiddled a bit with her hooves. “I mean, I’m not looking for one, but if I found the perfect pony… I guess.” She sighed. “It might be nice.”

Sunset perked up her ears even harder. She looked at Twilight, eyes shining. “Really?” she asked.

“Hmm-hmm.”

“Really really?!”

Twilight blinked. “Uh.” She frowned. “Why are you so getting so into this all of a sud—oh gosh no.”

“Twilight, you literally just admitted we need to find you a boyfriend!”

“Oh, sweet Celestia.” Twilight buried her face in her hooves. “Why.”

“We need to hit the clubs RIGHT NOW!”

“I hate my life sometimes.” It took Twilight all of her willpower to look up to Sunset, who was bobbing up and down in place like an overcaffeinated Pinkie PIe. “Look, we weren’t talking about this. This was just a side comment, and it doesn’t mean—”

“WE NEED TO GO ON A DOUBLE DATE!”

“Sunset, I’m not going to look for a boyfriend.”

Sunset’s stupid grin never left her face. “Oh,” she said. “You absolutely are now, Twilight.”

“No.” Twilight waved a hoof. “I just—you just admitted you’re not going to get any meaningful relationships any time soon. And you’re running away from my friends… When you’re not openly antagonizing them, that is.” She glared at Sunset. “So you have nopony but me, right now.”

Sunset kept on grinning. “And?”

“And that can’t be. So you should stop shying away from other ponies.” Twilight grinned back. “And my friends are a perfect start for that. Completely safe, we both know you can already get along with them, and we’re killing two birds one stone. Because you’re dealing with your tendency to run away from things at the same time.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “Doesn’t it sound perfect?”

And while the grin was still there, now Sunset didn’t really look that happy. “I guess,” she said through gritted teeth. “Woo. I can’t wait.”

Twilight light up. “So you’re agreeing with me?”

“More like I’m giving up on resisting, really. But.” Sunset raised a hoof. “Before we do that.”

Twilight cocked her head to the side. “Before we do that?”

“If we’re dealing with my tendency to run away, we’re dealing with your obsession with the past, too. We’ve tackled my problems already, now it’s your turn.” Sunset waved the hoof she’d previously risen in circles. “And at the same time, we can deal with your problem of not having a boyf—”

“No.”

“Oh, come on! Just give me this!”

“But I suppose I can… I have no idea. Relax?” Twilight frowned. “I mean, what’s my issue, anyway? Trying to relive my glory days? Because that really only means that I’m trying to save the world.”

Sunset nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“So you want me to… not save the world?”

“No! I want you to, I don’t know.” Sunset squinted. “I didn’t think this far. Try not to overwork yourself that much?” Pause. “Did you have breakfast today?”

Twilight blinked. “Uh,” she said. “I… did?”

“You didn’t.”

“I didn’t. I haven’t eaten anything in the whole day.” She looked down. “Sorry.”

And Sunset smiled, and patted her head. “Atta girl,” she said. “You can’t fool me, can you?”

Twilight swatted Sunset’s hoof away, annoyed. “Apparently,” she said. And then—“Ah.” She clapped. “I have an idea. I won’t be looking for a boyfriend, but… You asked me out, right?”

“…I did?”

“Yes. You said you wanted to have dinner with me. Like, twenty minutes ago?”

“Ah! Yeah!” Sunset pointed at Twilight, smiling for real again. “Yeah! We could do that! We can go clubbing, and even try to find you a—”

“No.”

“—well, shoot, I guess we can at least have fun.” Sunset nodded. “Yes. We don’t focus on your friends, we get you out there, and I can make sure you actually eat for once. I like this plan! You’re running away from your problems now!”

“Well then!” And Twilight’s smile was as big as Sunset’s. “I guess it’s a date!”

They both looked into each other’s eyes.

(And there was a—)

No.

The game stops for a moment. The audience at the most important table in the world stay silent. The anticipation is killing them. The pieces opened their hearts to one another. They agreed on a date. Twilight is making all the right moves.

But Time is the one that talked. And now, he talks again.

No.

And he doesn’t say the word with fear, or rage, or defeat.

He says it triumphantly.

Because Fate has had two moves per turn for a while now, and that’s given him an unfair advantage. Because Twilight became a player in the game, and Time didn’t know how to react.

But now, he does.

The rules of the game are vague. They have to be. This is a game played with lives, over a board that contains every world that ever existed. What a move does is fuzzy. How the players play is a mystery.

But even then, some things are solid. Time’s piece belongs to him. Sunset Shimmer is his avatar in the game, and only he can control her. Twilight Sparkle is Fate’s piece. They play by moving them, one each turn, to try to outwit the other.

Any influence a player might have over the other player’s piece is always, always, indirect.

Only now—Twilight is moving herself.

Twilight Sparkle, Time says. Twilight Sparkle, who became a player, is moving herself. She’s moving Fate’s piece. Because she went ahead of the game, the rules don’t apply to her anymore.

Fate’s eyes go wide. No, he says. No, you can’t be saying—

But Time is laughing now. Yes, he says. Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Because I just realized—if Twilight Sparkle can move your piece due to the new rules…

…then, why shouldn’t I do the same?

“Hey!” Twilight said, before they could really lock eyes. “I just had an idea! What if we deal with all our problems at once?”

Sunset was taken aback. “What?”

Fate can’t believe what Time's saying. This can’t be. He was so close! He was almost there! Twilight Sparkle was doing everything in her power to get to Sunset, and now it’s—

—Now, Time interrupts, leaning over the board, now it’s my turn still. And you were right: I only have one move. But it's all I need.

And he moves Twilight, once again.

“Yeah!” Twilight said. “I agree to our date, but we also bring my friends with us! And we all hang out together! Like a big platonic family!”

“Ugh,” Sunset said.

No!

Fate screams.

But it’s too late.

Time flies.

It’s a blur.

And Twilight opens the doors to the bar, smile on her face. Many days have passed. “Okay, girls, we’re here!” she says. “Let’s have fun! All of us!”

And the cheers from Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, and Applejack—plus the quiet happiness of Rarity, Fluttershy, and Starlight, and the silent annoyance of Moondancer—are enough to drown Sunset’s pained groan.

It’s not fair. The game was about to end! You can hear the echoes of Fate complaining—this isn’t how it’s supposed to go! This is ridiculous! This is a joke!

But it doesn’t matter

The game continues.

And eight ponies walk into a bar…