Compatī

Almost.

Sunset scribbled down a few notes before sweeping up the mess of crystal shards. She had gotten her frame to last almost twenty seconds, thanks to testing different frame variants. It still needed an oval shape so as to fit the mirror itself, but like a temperamental fashion diva trying on different outfits, it seemed almost to prefer particular variations in design. The wavy style seemed the most promising so far. She chalked it up to resonance frequency, but that was testing for a later date.

She set her clipboard aside, eyes focused on the mirror. The longing tugged at her more with each passing day. I’ll get you out.

And she would. She could feel the magic now, the subtle upwelling of energy spilling out from the mirror, like the rising of the ocean tide. It brushed against her coat whenever she stood very quietly next to it, closed her eyes, and thought of Nocturne.

This was it—the coming full moon. It was now or never. I’ll get you out.

There was a knock at the door. Who the hay could that be? String was off for the weekend, and nopony ever interrupted her, as per Celestia’s orders.

Sunset opened the door, and there stood Celestia in all her splendor and then some, thanks to the skylight.

Sunset practically jumped out of her skin. “Princess!” she said, bowing.

“Sunset. My most faithful student.” Celestia strode gracefully into the room. She smiled at Sunset, at the mirror, then back at Sunset. “I trust things are going well with your project?”

Sunset offered her a sheepish smile. “M-mostly. I’ve gotten pretty much everything worked out except the frame.”

“Hmm,” Celestia said. She stepped up to the mirror for a closer inspection. “You’ve been working hard on this, I see.”

Sunset scuffed the floor. “Well, when the princess herself gives you an assignment, you kind of have to give it your best shot, right?”

“Indeed. And how is your assignment with Doppler going?” She turned an errant eye Sunset’s way.

Oof.

“I, uh…” Sunset said. “Yeah, I don’t know about, uh… us.”

“May I ask why?” She sat down beside the blast shield, her eyes wandering its scuffs and dents.

“I just… I don’t know.”

“Does he know?”

Sunset winced. He might have suspected it by now. She hadn’t replied to his letters in the last two weeks, and his had gotten less detailed and heartfelt, accordingly.

“Not… really? I mean, he might, but…” Sunset bit her lip. She’d been so focused on the mirror that she hadn’t put any effort into keeping things going with Doppler.

Not that dating him was part of Celestia’s assignment or anything. The phrase “extra credit” came to mind in the way Copper had brain-wormed her so many times and she really didn't need that sort of quipping right now, brain.

But if Sunset were honest with herself, she had no desire to keep things going with him, friendship or otherwise. Every time she licked her lips, she could still taste that wintergreen chill.

“There is nothing wrong with falling out of love or growing apart from friends,” Celestia said, “and I am happy you gave both a try. But I’m worried it might be a symptom of you taking this research project a little too seriously.”

“What do you mean ‘too seriously’? You told me to do this. When you tell somepony to do something, they have to take it too seriously.”

“I did ask you, and that may be true. But there is such a thing as overcommitting oneself. I’ve been keeping a close eye on you these last few weeks, Sunset.” She raised Sunset’s chin with a wingtip and looked her in the eyes. “You’ve hardly slept. I’d hoped it was only temporary, but this has gone on for too long.”

It felt like a stone had fallen in the pit of Sunset’s stomach. She could tell where this conversation was heading, and her mouth felt dry.

“What’s wrong with wanting something?” Sunset asked.

“Nothing. It’s when want becomes need and obsession takes hold that I fear for your well-being.”

“My… My well-being?” She could hardly parrot Celestia’s words. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t.

Celestia raised her chin slightly in that way she did when making an executive order. But there was an empathy in her eyes, that motherly sort of “this hurts me more than it does you.”

“Sunset,” she said. “I would like for you to postpone your research on the mirror, effective immediately.”

A cold chill rippled down Sunset’s back, and she shook her head in disbelief. “I… I, I. No…”

“No?” Celestia raised an eyebrow at Sunset.

Sunset shifted uncomfortably on her hooves. Her mouth fell open but she couldn’t find her voice. Was this a joke? This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening!

She felt dizzy. The world spun around her and her hooves refused to keep her steady. She needed air. Like a drowning pony reaching for a faraway surface, she saw her chance to save Nocturne slipping away. Her throat cinched up, and she could feel the tears beading at the corners of her eyes.

“You can’t,” she choked out.

“Sunset…” Celestia stepped forward, hoof outstretched to brush Sunset’s mane behind her ear, but Sunset jerked away before she could touch her. Celestia shied away, the concern on her face growing more pronounced. “Sunset, please tell me what is going on. This is unlike you.”

Sunset stared teary-eyed at the floor. Should she tell Celestia about Nocturne? She had mentioned her before, and Celestia seemed warm to the idea of who Nocturne was. But what if Celestia didn’t like what Nocturne was?

What did it matter? If she didn’t give Celestia a reason, she’d pull her from the project. It was now or never.

“I can’t.” Sunset felt her hooves trembling. “I can’t quit. Somepony… somepony is depending on me.”

“What do you mean? Who is?”

Sunset swallowed the lump in her throat. “M-my friend. Nocturne.”

“Your friend from the Summer Sun Celebration?” Celestia asked, to which Sunset nodded. Her tone changed from concern to guarded curiosity. “What does she have to do with the mirror?”

“It’s… it’s the only way I can save her.”

A momentary silence fell between them as Celestia stared daggers into her. She kept her chin raised.

“Sunset. Explain.”

Sunset rubbed a hoof up and down her foreleg. “Sh-she’s the one who came up with the idea of using the mirror. There’s magic on the other side, like you said. And-a-and if I can get it and bring it back, I can rescue her from the Dreamscape.”

Realization dawned on Celestia, how her eyes went just a bit wider as she stared into some unknowable distance. Was… was that fear? But Celestia wasn’t afraid of anything.

“Sunset.” Her voice rang with an almost desperate tone. “Where exactly did you meet Nocturne?”

Sunset cowered like a dog beneath its master. Celestia never talked to her like this. Did she do something wrong?

“I was… in a dream. She came to me in a dream, that night at Copper’s house.”

Celestia closed her eyes and took a pained breath. Her wings twitched at her sides.

“Does Coppertone know about Nocturne?” Her voice was level—unnervingly so, like she struggled to keep any emotion out if it. Celestia only got like this when something bad happened.

Sunset laid her ears back and lowered her head. “No…?”

When Celestia opened her eyes, there was a hardness to them. “Sunset. You must listen to me. Do not speak to Nocturne again.”

A hollow sinking feeling overtook Sunset. “W-wha… no. No, I—”

“Do not question me. If she tries to talk to you again, come to me immediately.”

Sunset fidgeted. “What do you mean?”

“Sunset, if what you say is true, she is not who she says she is.”

What? Nocturne wouldn’t lie. She was Sunset’s friend. She was… she wanted to be more than friends.

“Sunset.” Celestia stood over her, wings fanned. The sunlight streaming through the skylight cast her in a dangerous glow. She was not smiling.

Sunset shrank beneath her shadow. “I don’t… I, I don’t understand.”

“Sunset, I need you to promise me.”

It felt like her world was falling apart around her. “But, how can I promise you something without understanding what I’m promising? What’s wrong with Nocturne? She’s my friend…”

“She is not a friend, Sunset. Lu—” Celestia paused to gather herself. She folded her wings and closed her eyes. A deep breath—in, then out. “She does not have your best interests at heart. Sunset, please promise me you will not speak to her again. You must trust me that this is a dangerous pony.”

This wasn’t fair. This… this wasn’t right. Nocturne hadn’t done anything wrong. Celestia had no right or reason to do this. Just thinking about it doubled up the knot in Sunset’s throat.

“I, I can’t. Not if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

Celestia stared at her for a long time. Her brows were creased, but not in anger. It was as if she herself were pleading with Sunset: please don’t make me say it, please don’t make me remember. She took a deep breath and looked away.

“A long time ago, Nocturne, as you know her, ruled side by side with me. I loved her as… as a sister, and she loved me in return. But the ponies we ruled over didn’t appreciate her hard work like they did mine, and chose to enjoy my rule more than hers. She grew to resent them, and me as well.

“I ignored the signs, and… when I finally confronted her, things escalated, and I was left with no choice but to banish her to the moon.” She stared into the far wall like she did the stained glass in the astronomy wing whenever they toured the castle.

“I believed that doing so would keep her from harming anypony else. But if she is speaking to you in your dreams, then I worry what she may be planning and just what kind of influence she still holds in the dream realm.”

Sunset’s jaw dropped. “You banished her to the moon? You mean she’s the Mare in the Moon? But that’s just a story meant to scare foals.”

“All legends come from some shred of truth, Sunset. It happened almost a thousand years ago, but she was very much a real pony like you and me.”

That squirming, aching feeling gripped her heart again. It couldn’t be true. Nocturne couldn’t be evil. The pony in her dreams was nothing like those stories.

Nocturne was kind, compassionate—shy, even. She had her outbursts, but they came from excitement and hope, and anything outside of that was because she’d been alone for so long. Anypony would lose their grasp of social norms like that.

“But what about Star Swirl?” Sunset asked. “She was in love with Star Swirl.”

A scowl overtook Celestia, and it felt as if the room itself darkened beneath the shadow of an eclipse. “She was not in love with Star Swirl. Star Swirl was our mentor and teacher. Anything she might say to the contrary is a lie!”

The hardness of her eyes relaxed, and she sighed again, looking away. “I’m sorry, Sunset. I didn’t mean to yell. But I need you to understand. I need you to promise me you will avoid Nocturne in the future.”

Sunset couldn’t look her in the eye. Everything about this felt so wrong. This wasn’t the princess she knew, nor did anything she say make sense. It couldn’t be true. She felt the tear running down her cheek before realizing it was hers.

“Sunset…”

Before Celestia could reach out to her, Sunset shook her head, swallowed, then nodded. “I’m okay, Princess… Whatever you say.”

Sunset stumbled past Celestia and out the door. She walked in a daze through the research hall, only vaguely hearing the voices of passing ponies. They might have been talking to her, but all she could think about was Nocturne.

Nocturne. The wonderful, amazing, powerful, beautiful pony in her dreams. She couldn’t be evil. A pony as wonderful and kind as her simply couldn’t be.

But the look in Celestia’s eye told a different story. It was almost… vengeful.

How could Celestia feel that way about somepony like Nocturne? Had she really been evil once?

She had dabbled in soul magic by her own admission, but she did that for Star Swirl’s sake. That didn’t make her evil. Misguided, surely, but not evil. But… was she truly in love with Star Swirl, or was that all make-believe? Or worse, was Celestia the one lying?

That got her heart squirming and wishing for the answers to make sense of it all. Whatever the truth, it couldn’t be as bad as Celestia made it out to be. It was just a misunderstanding. Nothing more. They needed to meet in person, talk it out. Celestia always went on about sharing her feelings and being personable. That’s all they needed, and then she would see how wonderful Nocturne really was.

Sunset stumbled home with the ceaseless whirlwind of thoughts in her head. Somewhere in the middle of it, she stood in her living room before realizing she never pulled her keys out of her saddlebags, which meant she hadn’t even locked the door on the way out that morning.

Maybe Celestia was right. Maybe she was getting too absorbed in this project.

Sunset gritted her teeth before screaming at the top of her lungs. She grabbed a glass of water off the countertop and threw it as hard as she could at the far wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces, and the water left a violent, dark splatter down the wall.

She panted, her legs trembling as if she had sprinted a mile. The vase of daffodils on the coffee table caught her eye. Oh, Copper, that piece of…

Ugh!

Copper ratted on her. There was no other explanation. The timing was too perfect. Not even a day after their little argument in the research lab and here Celestia was, pulling the rug out from beneath her.

She picked up the vase and spun it around in her magic. She thought about smashing it. Just smash the whole damn room apart. What’d it matter anymore? After all she went through, all the hard work she put into the mirror, all of it down the drain. All thanks to Copper.

She slammed it back down on the coffee table. As much as she wanted to, she didn’t have the energy.

Tears in her eyes, Sunset stormed off to her room and flopped onto the bed. The sheets were cool and soft, and they reminded her of Nocturne. She sniffled.

Oh, Nocturne… what were they going to do? How could she complete the mirror in time for the next full moon if Celestia forbid her fro—

“Sunset?”

Sunset caught a gasp in her throat. Behind her, in the living room, she heard a pair of familiar, delicate hoofsteps.

Copper came around the corner, her brow furrowed in concern. She glanced over her shoulder at the shattered glass by the far wall, then back at Sunset.

“Are you crying? What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? Oh, she had the gall to say that.

“How dare you!” Sunset shouted. She rolled out of bed and stomped toward Copper. “How dare you rat on me!”

Copper retreated backward into the living room. “Sunset? Wh-what are you talking about?”

“You told Celestia that I brought you to the lab.”

“I didn’t tell her anything!” She bumped into the couch, her tail bunching up over her flanks.

“Don’t you lie to me. You told her I wasn’t okay—”

“You aren’t!” Tears welled up in Copper’s eyes. “I don’t know what’s so important about this research, but it’s destroying you. Just look at yourself!”

“No, you’re the one who destroyed me. You’re the one who always has to be perfect and beautiful and take up the spotlight.”

Copper’s breathing turned frantic, and she didn’t seem to know what to do with her hooves. She shook her head the tiniest bit.

“What does that have to—”

“You shut up! You were always making fun of me. You were always putting me down and making me feel small with your snide jokes.” Sunset’s throat cinched up. Tears threatened to roll down her cheeks, but the words burned too hot in her heart to let lie. “And I put up with it. I put up with it for so long, because I somehow fooled myself into thinking you actually cared, in your own annoyingly weird way.”

Sunset trembled. She could barely hold herself up. “But the moment I had something that, that meant something to me, that made me happy, you… you…”

Eyes squeezed shut, Sunset clenched her teeth and collapsed to her haunches. The rest hurt too much to get out.

“I don’t make you happy?” Copper’s voice trembled.

“It’s not the same,” Sunset said. She hung her head, and the tears rolled down her snout. “You, it’s…”

“Sunset, I’m sorry. Please stop crying.”

“No! She took it away from me, Copper. She took my research away because of you. And now I… I can’t…”

“Sunset, it’s okay.” Copper put a hoof to Sunset’s cheek and reached up to run it through her mane.

Sunset jerked away. An unquenchable fire ignited behind her eyes. “Don’t touch me! It’s all your fault, Copper. This was all I ever wanted, and you screwed it up.”

Copper startled backward, but then found the audacity to scowl at her. She actually dared to think she was in the right.

“Sunset, it was just some stupid research project. Snap out of it. Please. Do you think I want to see you hurt like this? Do you think I enjoy seeing you suffer? It hurts me, too. It hurts right here.” She put her hoof to her chest. “And I have to watch you do this to yourself every day. What was I supposed to do? Just watch the mare that I—”

She stalled out, her eyes going wide like a ghost had stolen the words right out of her throat. A wince crawled across her face, and she shrank in on herself.

“So you did go see Celestia.”

Copper jerked back as if Sunset had slapped her. Her mouth dangled open, like a foal caught with her hoof in the cookie jar.

It was almost funny… When it mattered most, she had nothing to say. Where were all her witty comebacks now?

“Sunset—”

“You shut up. Just shut up!” Sunset screeched, her voice cracking hard enough that it hurt her throat. She wilted and fell to her haunches, tears still running down her face. She didn’t bother hiding them—what did it matter anymore?

“Get out of my life, Copper,” she whispered. She sniffled and wiped her nose. “I never want to see you again.”

Copper’s lip trembled. When she spoke, Sunset could barely hear her.

“Y-you don’t mean that…”

Sunset saw red. She picked up the vase of daffodils, smashed it at Copper’s hooves, and stomped forward.

“Get! Out!”

Sunset took another step, but Copper was already out the door. Her sobs faded down the hallway until everything fell silent.

The daffodils lay in a heap at Sunset’s hooves, their petals scattered. Sunset gritted her teeth and screamed. She stomped and stomped and stomped the flowers into the floor until she was out of breath.

Chest heaving, Sunset looked at her hooves. Some of the shards from the vase had cut her fetlocks, and blood dribbled down her hooves. A motherly voice in her head told her to get them bandaged up, but it sounded too much like Celestia. She stumbled into her room and collapsed into bed.

This wasn’t fair. Here she was doing exactly what Celestia told her to: work on the mirror. Make some friends… And suddenly, that was against the rules?

But what could she do? Celestia gave her an order. She couldn’t go against her. She couldn’t go against the princess herself.

She sobbed into her pillow, holding it tight, wishing it was Nocturne. The phoenix plushie Doppler got her lay cocked on her other pillow, staring at her. She swatted it off the bed and rolled over.

“I wish you were here,” she whispered into the pillow. “I would do anything. Anything…”

She imagined Nocturne’s soft fur and the brush of her wings, the cold mist of her mane along her back. The memory of that night not long ago drifted to the surface, and with it the spell Nocturne taught her.

She heaved a final sigh and closed her eyes. A brief squeeze of the pillow to help clear her mind, and she thought of Nocturne.

It brought a smile to her face, and she let the feeling envelop her, let it sink into her bones. She lit her horn, and her sense of presence seemed to shift, like gravity decided it didn’t like going down anymore.

Her mind phased out for a second, and when it refocused, she felt altogether different—refreshed, even.

Sunset opened her eyes, the aches from just moments ago miraculously gone. Her fetlocks didn’t even sting. She gasped.

The spell worked.

“Nocturne!” she shouted.

Her voice echoed back, desperate. This place normally had a comforting, homely feel to it, but without Nocturne beside her, it had a strange claustrophobic emptiness to it, as if the nothingness pressed in around her.

“Nocturne?” Her voice sounded scared. She felt scared. “Nocturne? Are you here? Please come out.”

A presence materialized behind her with a cold ripple down her back, and a delicate hoof touched her on the shoulder. “What is the matter, Little Sunset?”

When Sunset looked, Nocturne wore a concerned frown. “Your emotions weigh upon my heart like great stones. Why do you hurt so?”

Sunset buried her face in Nocturne’s chest. Her fur was cold as a blanket pulled from a cupboard on a winter night, but it soon warmed and the softness was unlike anything Sunset had felt in real life.

“Easy, Little Sunset. Fear not what troubles you. I am here, as I will always be.”

Sunset took a deep breath of stardust and shadow before pulling away. She bit back a sob. No matter how hard she wanted to, she couldn’t look Nocturne in the eye. She instead watched the shadows curl away from Nocturne’s hooves.

“Celestia pulled me from the mirror project,” Sunset said. The words tasted like vomit. “And she doesn’t want me to talk to you anymore.”

Nocturne seized up, and Sunset felt the hitch in her breath.

“She said…” Sunset continued, “she said you were a bad pony. That you tried to take over Equestria. You’re the… the Mare in the Moon. Is it true?”

Nocturne wilted. It was strangely terrifying to see such a large, powerful pony collapse under her own weight.

Now that Sunset finally got the question off her chest, it was Nocturne’s turn to be unable to look Sunset in the eye. “I… I am not proud of what I did in ages past.”

“So you are,” Sunset said, defeated.

“I said I am not proud!” Nocturne shouted. Sunset shrank back, but not as quickly as Nocturne, who curtained herself behind her wings. The plumes of her mane and tail wilted as if commiserating in her shame.

“I, I feared that knowing such things might scare you away,” she continued. “That I might lose my one chance for friendship, for redemption, in this hell I have lived for almost a thousand years. I thought that if I were to meet you as simply a pony”—a short chuckle escaped her—“as close to a normal pony as I can be, that you might see me—the real me—as I am today.”

Sunset sniffled and wiped away a dribble of snot from her nose. She found a tiny smile somewhere in the rubble of her emotions.

Nocturne smiled back, tracing a hoof down Sunset’s cheek, and Sunset leaned into it. “The fire that stirred my heart to fury a millennium ago has long since been snuffed,” Nocturne said. “I am nothing more than the pony standing before you. I have nothing left of the power or hatred or greed that consumed me then. I have had nothing for centuries but the dark and my own loneliness. That is, until I met you, Little Sunset.”

Sunset held Nocturne’s hoof against her cheek. The emotions carried by the gesture sent her heart racing, and she couldn’t pull away from the mournful look in Nocturne’s eyes.

“I fear the dark that lies ahead should we part ways,” Nocturne continued. “But… if Celestia forbids us, then I shan’t jeopardize your standing.” She pulled away, and the sudden distance shot through Sunset’s heart like an icicle.

“She doesn’t have to know!” Sunset blurted out. She caught herself short, her mouth hanging open before she found more words. “We can—we can still be together. Here, in my dreams.”

A tear rolled down Nocturne’s cheek, and up went a happy but mournful smile. “I will forever cherish your innocent optimism, Little Sunset. But reality is fickle. I cannot allow you to risk all that you have for my sake. I… I should not have let myself believe.”

Nocturne turned and walked away, head hung low. Even the shadows that swaddled her lower half drifted off her in languid curls as if they too accepted their fate.

Sunset shook her head. Celestia was wrong. Even if Nocturne was evil before, she was good now. And Sunset, as dense as she could be at times, knew when somepony needed her.

“Nocturne,” Sunset said. Just as Nocturne turned to look at her, Sunset rushed forward and kissed her.

In that instant, all her fears and worries melted away. It was like the world was right again and everything made sense. When she pulled away, that wintergreen taste lingered on her lips, and every breath came in chilled by its intoxicating scent.

This felt different than Doppler, more real than Doppler or anypony else. She didn’t feel this way because Nocturne had gorgeous eyes and a pretty smile, but because Nocturne was beautiful, both inside and out.

She was a pony to admire and cherish—that hopeful, unbreakable, ever-searching spirit. How much she had suffered because of her banishment, how much she had clearly changed, how much she was willing to continue changing for the better.

“I’ll find a way,” Sunset said.

“No, Little Sunset. You have already sacrificed too much in my name. I cannot bear the thought of what you would lose were she to catch you. ’Twould be a shame I would carry with me all of my days, knowing my freedom came at the expense of all you hold dear.”

“I’ll find a way,” Sunset insisted. She took Nocturne’s hooves in hers and stared her dead in the eye. “It’s what friends do. It’s what…”

Sunset’s heart fluttered. A breath caught in her throat, and she almost lost the courage to say what came next.

“It’s what more-than-friends do.”

Nocturne’s eyes danced back and forth, gazing into hers, and for a brief moment, it seemed like that unshakable hope had resurfaced. Her ears fell back, and she leaned in for another kiss.

Sunset was all too happy to meet her halfway. The wintergreen, mind-addling sensation was unlike any other.

She couldn’t explain it. She couldn’t understand it. She could only follow the feelings in her heart, and those feelings told her to embrace Nocturne and not only see but feel the beautiful mare lost to time and the physical world.

Whatever the future held in store, Nocturne had a place in it. Sunset had given up too much to know any different.

Sunset broke off from the kiss and pressed her head into Nocturne’s chest. It was colder than the deepest reaches of space, but she breathed in that stardust-y smell and melted into her despite the shivers.

Nocturne wrapped her wings around Sunset, and the chill of her feathers gently touching the small of Sunset’s back sent goosebumps up her spine.

It was an odd feeling—the sensation so naturally uncomfortable, yet so welcome. And when Nocturne placed a kiss on her forehead, Sunset couldn’t help but giggle like a foal.

A smile took its place on her lips and she kissed the fur of Nocturne’s chest before nuzzling deeper into it.

“If it is what you wish, Little Sunset,” Nocturne said. “Then I am eternally grateful. I shall stand by your side the rest of my days should you succeed.”

Sunset brushed the tip of her hoof down Nocturne’s chest, watching the individual hairs flatten and stand back up, the way Copper often did to her at their sleepovers.

“You’re the only thing that matters to me,” Sunset whispered. “If you left me, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Never in my life would I do such a thing.” Nocturne said it with such conviction that Sunset’s heart fluttered. “But what of your friend Coppertone?”

Sunset stayed quiet. She looked down, but didn’t pull away from Nocturne.

“She’s not my friend. Friends don’t rat you out for doing the right thing.”

“The right thing? Do you mean this? Us?”

“Not us, but… I took her down to the research lab, but changed my mind before we got to the mirror. She said I should stop working on my research, and we got into a fight over it.”

Nocturne stroked Sunset’s mane. “You are wise, Little Sunset. A friend who spurns another’s ambitions is not truly a friend. I know it is hard, but you will heal and become stronger for it.”

Sunset squeezed her eyes shut and nodded into Nocturne’s chest. It did hurt. It hurt more than anypony could imagine.

“And what of Celestia?” Nocturne asked.

“I don’t know…” Her throat cinched up, and tears welled up in her eyes. “She doesn’t like you, and I don’t think she ever will. But she’s the one who told me to make friends. She’s the one who wanted me to get to know you. Well, before she knew who you were.”

Nocturne gave her a little squeeze. “I cannot help what she feels, only what I am. I have served my penance. It is all I can do to earn her forgiveness.”

Sunset absently rubbed circles into Nocturne’s chest fur. Watching it nap and smooth out was its own strangely natural comfort.

“I don’t think that’ll happen from the way she talks about you. I don’t know what to do…”

Nocturne brushed Sunset’s mane behind her ear. “Nor I, Little Sunset. It pains me to see you torn so.”

Sunset sniffled. This wasn’t fair. Nocturne didn’t deserve this. Whether she was bad before or not, she was a good pony now. She wasn’t a monster.

Celestia was afraid and closed-minded. She didn’t see. She refused to see.

And since she refused, Sunset would just have to make her see. She would make them all see.

“I’m not torn,” Sunset said. She sniffled and dried her eyes. “I’m more certain than ever. I’ll get you out. No matter what it takes.”

• • •

Oh, Little Sunset. What a foolish creature you are, so taken by the nightingale’s coo.

’Tis almost a shame. Were this another time, another life, perhaps I may have deigned to humor you further. But alas, the time has come for your… reward.

You have burned your bridges as I deemed necessary, and the world beyond the portal will be your paradise, where you shall wallow in your own naïveté. But do not worry… I shall have use for you in years to come.

So smile for me a while longer, Little Sunset, grasp gently the rose and be the good girl I know you are. For should you cross me at this, the crux of my triumph, I will tear that rose from you, and the shriveled husk of your heart shall stand testament to all who dare oppose me.