A Town that Time Forgot

by Freglz

Rating: everyone
Tags: Cheerilee, Diamond Tiara, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 7887

One night, on Hearth's Warming, Diamond Tiara returned to her hometown of Ponyville. She'd hoped that some things might have changed. She didn't expect somepony to change so much.

One night, on Hearth's Warming, Diamond Tiara returned to her hometown of Ponyville.

She'd hoped that some things might have changed.

She didn't expect somepony to change so much.

Part of the Jinglemas 2019 collaboration.
Written for LIGHTNINGinTHEdark, who requested a story about Diamond Tiara and Cheerilee.
Edited by Anon Y Mousse, Present Perfect, Cold in Gardez and Regidar.
Big thanks to Ara for the cover art.

Published 2019-12-22 23:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-12-22 23:00:01 UTC

And the Ponies Who Live in It

Morning in Ponyville shimmers and shines, but there was something even more beautiful, Diamond Tiara thought: Ponyville in the depths of a midwinter’s night.

Granted, the sound of snow crunching underhoof was a little grating on the ears, but the sights more than made up for it. Firefly lanterns had been replaced by electric lamps, reminiscent of the kind she’d seen in the old-fashioned parts of Baltimare, their glow shimmering off the tinsel wrapped around their poles, the icicles under streetside awnings, the frost covering the ground itself. Strings of lights ran around banisters, hung above the main road in a colourful patchwork, like threads of jewels — rubies, sapphires, emeralds, crystal-clear quartz, and many more.

Such a thing only happened once a year. She was happy to see it again. Not that other towns and cities didn’t celebrate it in a similar fashion, but more so that there was… something inherently special about seeing her old home celebrate Hearth’s Warming. Timeless, in a sense, like knowing that no matter where she went, what she did, this place could and would never change. Not really, at its core.

It was a pity, then, that the rest of the night had been so rotten.

And the snow wasn’t helping.

It was like foals’ marking pens on paper — a thousand tiny hooves scraping against a chalkboard. In a word, irritating. But it was better than staying in that miserable household for even a minute longer.

That’s why she was headed in the direction of one of the few places she’d never gone to in this small, quaint and, if she were being completely honest with herself, rather endearing town. And with a right turn, following the outskirts along the western edge, she found herself on the path leading directly to it.

The Muddy Hoof.

Not exactly the most attractive name for a bar, but in a community that was founded and initially mostly populated by earth ponies, built on the backs of an agrarian way of life, she supposed it fit. And if their brew was good — which would almost certainly be the case, considering they’d probably have cider provided by the Apple family — then who was she to complain?

Once upon a time, she might have. Perhaps she’d have taken after her mother, walking into a shop less to browse the wares and more so she could criticise the ponies working there. Perhaps she’d have even demanded the owners of the establishment change their mind, to give the town a better image if not to appease her own sense of entitlement.

But she wasn’t that pony anymore. Not really. She didn’t like to think that she was, at any rate.

Nevertheless, she trudged on, her warm, fuzzy boots protecting her hooves from the chill she’d otherwise feel. They were silvery, and made from faux fur — a specially made designer set imported from the northern end of Griffonia, where creatures had long since adapted to the cold, and knew how to keep the heat in. Or so she’d been told. But they served her too well to care whether she’d been given the truth. At least with the holly-patterned scarf around her neck, she didn’t have to worry too much about how the wool was obtained.

Closer still, and she could see the establishment in greater detail; a thatched roof, plastered walls with exposed woodwork, crosshatch windows made from stained glass too opaque to see through. The sound was unmistakable, though: relative quiet. Figured. Who’d be celebrating Hearth’s Warming in a bar, after all? Certainly not a mare of any respectable social standing like herself.

And that was partly the reason why she grabbed hold of the doorhandle and pushed her way through.

Empty, save for the keeper, somepony trying his luck on the small piano in the corner, a group of tipsy carollers surrounding him, and a mare tucked away in a stall on her right, reading a book with the aid of some glasses. The atmosphere here wasn’t dreary, to her surprise. In fact, most of the occupants seemed rather content, and the off-key music and singing provided a somewhat welcoming ambience. More so than the halls of a mansion too big for a wealthy family of three.

Diamond wasn’t terribly gloomy herself, but she paused in the doorway for a short while all the same, soaking in the mood, and somehow feeling all the better for it. Perhaps, she thought, she’d come to the right place — a haven for the time being, until she built the courage and fortitude to finally head back there and gather her things. She’d have to stop by the station and check when the next reasonable train to Canterlot departed, and then navigate the maelstrom of timetables for the next ride to Manehatten. A perfectly disappointing end to what she’d hoped would be a worthwhile trip.

And yet, she wasn’t mad. Stars knew why. Maybe the bar was already helping, and she hadn’t even taken a swig.

Time to alleviate that.

Rolling her eyes at herself, she closed the door behind her and strolled across the tiled floor toward the counter itself, antiquated and aging like fine wine, complete with wooden stools to match. The air had a tart, spicy tang to it, and it lingered in the back of her nose with every breath she took, reminding her of the days when apple juice and cider were as free-flowing as water. Before she had to worry about drinking too much and waking up with more than a full bladder.

The bartender, another mare, a fruity purple in the coat and a deeper shade in the mane, looked up from wiping down the surface and cocked an eyebrow, offering her a small but inviting smile. “Why, hello.”

“Hey.” Diamond returned the smile and pulled out a seat, then nodded to the other ponies. “Business slow?”

“Quite. But now it’s a little busier.” The mare propped herself against the edge with a foreleg, a hoof on her hip. “So, what brings you here? And more importantly, what’s your poison?”

“Cider, nonalcoholic. I need to keep a clear head. As for what brings me here… I’d rather not think about it, to be honest.”

“Fair enough.” She ducked away to the dispensers and stuck a tankard below, pulling the lever, and the gold that poured forth was even more musical than the racket the crowd in the corner was making. “All the more reason to keep a clear head, huh?”

“No offence.”

“Oh, no, of course not. None taken at all.” With the froth bubbling over, she let the handle go, then brushed off the excess foam with practiced precision. “Seriously, girl, I’ve been running this place for decades, so there’s pretty much nothing that’ll get my tail in a twist.”

Diamond quirked an eyebrow. “Decades, huh?”

“Indeed.” The mare brought the tankard over. “But I’d remember you if you swung by here, dressed fancy and the like. You from out of town?”

“Kind of.” Diamond took it from her grasp and huffed a laugh. “I used to live here.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep.”

“A former local?”

“Mm-hmm.”

The mare hummed, nodding idly, then retrieved her cloth and resumed her never-ending task of polishing the countertop to an absolute shine. “Well then, young lady, you can’t have been much older than you are now if you left, so my guess is that you’re… about the same age as the Crusaders.”

“Crusaders?” Brows rising, Diamond glanced over her shoulder as if she expected to see them, and felt a modicum of disappointment tingle across her withers when she predictably didn’t. “They’re still here?”

“Bloom is, and so is Sweetie. Scoots left about a week ago, heading on a soul-seeking adventure to the east, or something like that.” The mare angled her head along with her ears. “Why? Are you a friend of theirs? Hoping to catch them all in time for the holidays?”

“No. Well, yes, I am friends with them, but…” Diamond sighed. “I don’t know. I kind of lost track of them after school, and fell out of the loop completely when I moved away.”

“Ah. But you were part of their year group, were you?”

Another, longer, more fulfilling sip, and then she gave a nod of her own.

“Heh.” The barkeeper smiled, then gestured to something on the other side of the establishment. “Well then, I think that girl over there would be of at least some interest to you.”

Diamond’s ears perked up, and then she looked over her shoulder again, following the outstretched hoof, and what she found almost made her do a double take.

She’d have recognised that face anywhere. The cutie mark was unmistakable. In fact, she was just as shocked that she hadn’t guessed who the mare in the booth was based on the colour of her mane and coat alone — she’d spent the better half of her childhood around her, after all. And out of all the civilised places in the world to find her, a bar on Hearth’s Warming was so far removed from the list that it may as well have fallen from outer space.

Diamond blinked, her mouth drooping open, then quickly closed it in case she seemed just a bit too shocked. Yes, she may have been her teacher once upon a time, and she may never have imagined she’d find her here, but that was no reason to gawk. She was allowed to have a life outside of school.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Diamond swung back to the bartender, nerves pointing her ears rearward for a second in case she’d done something she wasn’t supposed to do, though she couldn’t think what that something would be. But she hastily recomposed herself, shifting in her seat, then glanced away and cleared her throat. “Yeah, I… I guess you’re right.”

“She’s a regular, you know.”

“She is?”

“Not every day, but often enough; a couple times a month, and always on Hearth’s Warming.”

Diamond looked over her shoulder once more, and felt a slight pang in her barrel. She couldn’t pinpoint what that pang was, but it made the back of her hoof itch. It always got like that when she was agitated. “And she’s always…”

“…Always…?”

She hesitated, wondering whether to finish her sentence, but shut her mouth and returned to the counter, skewing her jaw and frowning at the wood for a moment. “Actually,” she said, glancing up at the mare ahead, “you don’t mind if I take this over there, do you?”

“Do I mind?” She laughed. “Girl, it’s your drink. Do as you like, so long as you pay before you leave, and don’t start trouble either.”

“Right.” Diamond swivelled and slipped off the stool. “Thanks, Miss.”

“No problem.”

And then she started making her way toward the booth. The off-key singing masked her approach, but she knew she’d be noticed before too long. And every step she took felt… odd, like she was about to trespass into a space that wasn’t hers — an unspoken taboo; you don’t associate with teachers outside of school functions.

Perhaps some part of her didn’t care if this was a small town, and they’d seen each other plenty of times before, and still clung to the belief that there couldn’t possibly be a life for a tutor outside of class. Bigoted and snobbish, sure — no small wonder where she got that from — but ponies didn’t always change completely, she supposed, and kept certain traits throughout their life. She may have been reformed, but she was still Diamond Tiara, and still prone to taking opinionated assumptions and turning them into facts.

But this was something she really couldn’t afford to botch. Not after… jeez, how many years was it? Too long, in any case. And the closer she drew, the more time seemed to pass — age began to show. There was still beauty, certainly, and the lustre in her eyes hadn’t faded, but something had changed.

This wasn’t the mare she’d come to know. Not really.

“Hey,” Diamond beckoned, reaching the table.

The mare sighed and rolled her eyes from behind her reading glasses, then spared her only a fleeting, mildly irritated glance before returning to her book. “Hey.”

Diamond blinked, brows creasing, then cocked her head. “You don’t remember me, Miss Cheerilee?”

“Now, why would I…” she started, only to cut herself off and snap her focus to Diamond with wide eyes and attentive ears. “…Diamond Tiara?”

Diamond felt a familiar spark of happiness ignite in her chest, and it made her grin. “Is there any other?”

Cheerilee stared a few moments longer, the stunned silence stretching on. And then she returned the grin with one of her own. “Merciful Sisters, look at you! You’re all grown up!”

“Yeah.” Diamond chuckled, looking down at herself. “Time does that.”

“It most certainly does!” Cheerilee exclaimed, bookmarking her page by folding a corner and setting the tome down on the table. “What’re you doing back here? I thought you’d gone off to find your fortune elsewhere.”

“I did. I’m just here for the holidays.”

“For family?”

“Formerly.” Diamond shrugged. “Now I’m here for me.”

“Oh.” Cheerilee’s grin shrank. “Trouble at home?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Another silence descended, and this one wasn’t as mutually comfortable.

“May I sit here, please, actually?” Diamond met her gaze again. “I thought you could use—”

“Oh, yeah, sure, by all means, sit.” Cheerilee waved a forelegs, gesturing for her to take a seat on the opposite side. “No way I’m going to tell you to find somewhere else after… what, ten years now? How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.” Setting her tankard on the table, Diamond hopped into the booth and shimmied across, then readjusted her scarf once in place. “My birthday was a month ago.”

“Fun?”

“Tremendously. A whole afternoon of paintball with my last client.”

Cheerilee blinked. “What?”

“Yep. We share the same day, and he has more friends in Manehatten, so we figured why not.”

“…Well, that’s nice, but…” She limply pointed to Diamond. “You? Paintball? Really?”

Diamond smirked and arched an eyebrow. “What? I’m not allowed to let my hair down every once in a while? I thought Rarity killed that trope.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t, Diamond. It’s just… surprising. That you’ve grown so much.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Me? Oh, no, not really. I haven’t done much since you left — still teaching at the school.” Cheerilee put her hooves together on the table and peered down at the book before her. The cover was simple and unassuming, merely the author’s name and title, and then some kind of circular symbol in the centre. “It’s what I’m good at, after all.”

“You don’t sound too sure of yourself.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly sure,” she said with a nod. “It’s just…” And then she sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. “Never mind. Why don’t we talk about you instead? Your life is probably more exciting anyway.”

“Now, hold on, who said yours isn’t?”

“Nopony.”

“Then why think—”

“Because, Diamond, just think for a moment.” She met her gaze with a sober expression. “You’ve been off elsewhere for the past ten years, making a name for yourself in the big city, and I’ve been stuck doing the same thing in the same town with the same ponies, more or less. A couple new additions here and there, but the same few hundred otherwise.”

Diamond paused, then slowly raised an eyebrow. “You feel stuck?”

“No, I…” she began, but soon drifted off, looking away to the corner of the booth as her mouth shut and ears angled back. And then she sighed and shook her head. “Listen, we only just sat down. It’s too early to get into anything like that. You haven’t even told me what your work is.”

“Alright then.” Diamond flicked her forehooves up in mock surrender, reclining in her seat against the backrest. “I’m a life coach; I assess how ponies are living and tell them what they need to do to get their lives back on track. Not in terms of their career, but more like… you know, general advice. Diet psychology, basically.”

Cheerilee returned to her, quirking an eyebrow, then slowly nodded. “That sounds… interesting.”

“Hey, if it works for them, who am I to argue? Besides, it’s basically what the Crusaders did when they were a thing, except now I’m getting paid for it.”

“…Right.” She angled her head. “And this birthday of yours? Was that payment, or did he—”

“Stars above, Miss Cheerilee, no!” Diamond laughed. “What, you think I’m just leeching off ponies when I already have my parents for that? No, that was legitimately just a nice thing he did for me, and not because I asked for it, and not because he was trying to butter me up. He isn’t really my type anyway — a bit too boisterous.”

Cheerilee’s expression shifted somewhat, pursing her lips and chewing her cheek as she looked to the book again.

“And before you ask, no, I’m not here to give you some life advice either. There’s a time and a place, and these aren’t business hours.”

An off-key carol finished, and the piano crowd let loose a cheer.

“Well, not my business hours.”

“Why are you here, then?” Cheerilee queried, meeting her gaze once more. “Shouldn’t you be at home with your family?”

Diamond fought to keep her smile from slipping too much, but that didn’t stop a claw gently wrap its way around her chest. “I should be,” she said, shifting her weight so that she sat a little more upright. “But I’m not.”

There was a pause, their silence filled by the start of another carol.

“…Care to explain?”

“Avoiding something.” Diamond snatched her drink and took a rather undignified, but not entirely inappropriate swig. “Same as you, I guess.”

“I’m not hiding from anything.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because it’s my tradition.”

Her eyelids lowered to half-mast. “Tradition?”

“Yes.” Cheerilee retrieved her book and opened it, skimming through for the page she’d bookmarked. “Every Hearth’s Warming, I come here, I sit down, I read a book. And I spend the whole night like that. And Berry over there doesn’t give an owl’s hoot about it.”

“And what does this tradition do, exactly?”

“What does any tradition do? Why do we put up lights at this time of year? It isn’t even the winter solstice. Shouldn’t we make that night the brightest it could be?”

Diamond’s brows lowered too, unimpressed. “You’re dodging the question.”

“Well, excuse me, young miss, if I don’t feel like being interrogated.” Cheerilee frowned up at her. “It’s good seeing you again, but I don’t need you flaunting how successful you’ve become.”

Diamond blinked with widening eyes and drew her head back, ears standing tall and at attention.

Cheerilee lingered on her, then returned to her book, then flipped one page more to find the spot she’d left her story at. “May we please talk about something else?”

Lips parting and a great and terrible weight dragging innards down to dreadful depths, Diamond glanced away and shimmied in place. Maybe Cheerilee could’ve been a bit more delicate, but yes, perhaps she’d also been a bit too forward — too presumptuous. Changing her approach might be for the best.

But to what, exactly? Ask the wrong question, and she may as well kick her own behind out the door, back to slogging through the snow for some kind of refuge. Silver Spoon had moved away, she remembered, seeking her place in the world elsewhere like she had, so that really only left Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, if they hadn’t grown an adventurous spirit like Scootaloo apparently had.

Bloom would be the most likely to stay, being part of the Apple clan, who were all about family and sticking together, but the homestead was a fair way out of town, and she wasn’t sure if she could be bothered. Warm hearth and drinks be damned, it was better to stick with what she knew rather than what could be, and she knew she didn’t want to let this reunion end prematurely, much less on a sour note.

“What’s that book you’re reading?”

Cheerilee didn’t respond for a short while, eyes reaching the bottom of the page before moving on to the next. “A romance.”

“You liking it?”

She shrugged.

“…Well, what’s wrong with it?”

“Too perfect.” Her brows furrowed, more in thought than annoyance. “Predictable. Feels scripted and… too perfect.”

“You said that twice.”

“Because it’s true.” She looked to her again. “They always know exactly what to say to each other and nothing ever goes wrong. There’s some conflict, sure, but it’s really just superficial. You have that inevitable temporary break-up moment, which is basically over before it began, and you know from then on that this fated love is destined to be. It’s too perfect.”

“Then why bother reading it?”

The ghost of a smirk crossed her lips. “Because it’s a pipe dream written by somepony who’s either too caught up in their own little fairyland, or is playing to the lowest common denominator, and thinks they can get away with the most uninspired, idealistic drivel imaginable. And I love dunking on it.”

Diamond paused, then quirked an unimpressed eyebrow. “You’re reading it out of spite?”

“That’s the long and short of it.” Cheerilee returned to the book once more. “And before you ask, no, it’s not because of a bad experience. I’m just enlightened.”

Unnecessarily critical, more like. But she wasn’t always, and Diamond knew better than to say it out loud. But that didn’t stop her feeling a blunt twinge at her core, bordering the faintest whisper of despair. “And you do this every Hearth’s Warming?”

“Indeed I do.”

She hesitated, wondering whether it was wise pressing the issue, and if perhaps she was actually doing this out of a sense of duty — professional, moral or otherwise. “And how long have you been doing this for? Not when I was in school, I’m sure.”

Cheerilee chuckled. “Certainly not. No, only for about…”

Diamond waited, and took another sip to pass the time.

“…Actually, I think I started around about the time you left. No idea why, though.”

“So, you just became a cynic out of the blue?”

Cheerilee locked eyes with her yet again, and there was an almost dangerous air about her.

But this time, Diamond wouldn’t be dissuaded. Sometimes, a spade had to be called a spade — that’s a lesson she’d had to learn time and time again on the road to becoming an effective life coach. “Come on, Miss Cheerilee,” she implored with upturned brows and a gentle shake of her angled head. “The you I know never went to bars. She never read books she didn’t like and panned them for the heck of it. She never spent Hearth’s Warming by herself if she could help it — not counting the bartender and those bozos back there.”

As if on cue, another cheer rang out behind her.

Cheerilee glanced past her to look at them, and then switched focus to her original target.

“What happened?”

“Not ten minutes together after ten years apart and you’re already poking and prodding.”

A little resistance, as was to be expected, but no legitimate pushback. “Miss Cheerilee, please. You’ve handled me at my worst, when I was a brat. The least I can do is listen to you now. Consider it a debt long overdue finally being repaid.”

Cheerilee stared at her, expression fixed in a warning frown. But slowly, very slowly, cracks were beginning to form, and not just in the crow’s feet that had unfortunately started creeping their way into the corners of her eyes, or the few paler hairs in her otherwise flawless coat and mane.

She skewed her jaw and looked away, then ground her teeth together behind tightly-pressed lips, evidently not at all comfortable with having the spotlight shoved on her.

But really, what else could Diamond have done? Some facts couldn’t be danced around and had to be faced head-on. All that she could do, as a guide, was simplify the process by not being too mean about it; respect the client’s intelligence and trust their emotional maturity, while remaining as tactful and sensitive as possible, quick to adjust should the river change course.

Sisters, if that wasn’t a far cry from the way she used to be…

Shaking her head, Cheerilee sighed and mumbled, “This really is too early in the reunion to be discussing this kind of crap…”

Diamond’s ear twitch and she raised an eyebrow. “Cussing, Miss Cheerilee?” She smirked in amusement and clicked her tongue. “My-my, how the mighty have fallen.”

“Oh, and since when was I ever a temple of virtue?” Cheerilee challenged, swinging back to Diamond with a cheeky smile. “Or are you that naïve to think that I’m a role model in every respect?”

“Makes no difference to me.” Diamond shrugged, stealing her third or fourth sip since sitting down. She had already lost count. “But don’t think you’re getting out of the question that easily.”

“Curses.” Cheerilee softly banged her book against the table for emphasis. And then, after a beat, she sighed again and leaned back in her seat, gazing up to the ceiling and pursing her lips in thought. “Well, if there’s no getting out of this… I suppose I’ll just have to humour you.”

“That’s the idea.”

“So be it.” Another pause, and the beginning of a third carol fills the room. “To be completely honest… I’m not sure. What happened, I mean. If anything happened. I don’t know. I’ve just had this tiny, little, nagging feeling in the back of my mind ever since…”

“Since…?”

She idly ran her tongue along her lips, as if recalling a delicious flavour of ice-cream she had once upon a time on a hot summer’s afternoon. “Silly question,” she continued almost whimsically, “but do you remember how the Crusaders would sometimes cause more problems than they’d solve on their seemingly never-ending quest to find their cutie marks?”

Diamond blinked, then giggled, and then felt a soft pang of guilt when she also remembered how she’d given taunted and teased and said and did so many nasty things to them without any good reason. “I do.”

“Well then, perhaps you also remember the time they slipped me and Big… uh… Apple Bloom’s brother — how they slipped us some of that love poison they brewed.”

She hesitated again, not entirely sure where this was going, but already finding it hard not to harbour a suspicion or two. “Yes, I remember that too.”

“And how we got to know each other a little better in the aftermath?”

“I… think so.”

“And how we teased the Crusaders for about a week afterwards, which led them to question whether the poison had really worn off?”

“…Maybe?” Diamond rubbed her temple. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t really that big a deal on my end, so I didn’t pay too much attention to it.”

“Which is perfectly fine,” Cheerilee soothed, switching focus once more to her and offering a very familiar and comforting smile. “Honestly, I’m kind of glad for it. Gossip spreads like wildfire in small towns like this.”

Diamond returned her hoof to the table and nodded thoughtfully, then quirked an eyebrow. “Anyway?”

“Yes, anyway.” Cheerilee cleared her throat. “So, we played that game for a week, and it was fun. And really, that’s all it was — just a little fun — and when we eventually stopped, I was fine with that. We were strangers, we shared an experience, and then we were friends. And then… a bit less than friends as the years went by; acquaintances, more like. And then it all pretty much stopped when Sugar Belle entered the picture from straight out of flipping nowhere.”

Diamond cocked her head and frowned with interest, a gentle hollowness spreading through her barrel. “You were… jealous?”

“No,” Cheerilee dismissed with a chuckle and a glib wave, glancing away. “Of course not. Not really, anyway. I mean… maybe. I don’t know. I just…”

Again, Diamond waited, and she somehow felt it would be wholly inappropriate to steal another sip of cider. This required her full attention.

Cheerilee continued staring at the space between them on the table, as if measuring the distance it would take to vault it, like it was a sheer drop that she had to cross. “We weren’t good enough friends to be anything more than that,” she says, but quieter — more sincere than bitter. “I’ve accepted that for a long, long while now, and I’m really, genuinely okay with it. But what gets me is… is just how easily that side of life comes to some ponies, and why, after so many years… the most I’ve experienced was a false attraction caused by three little girls who thought playing matchmaker would be fun.”

Diamond lowered her gaze, watching the ripples in the surface of her drink, the bubbles having long since fizzled out. “You feel left out.”

“I don’t want to make it sound like I feel entitled to a special somepony — that I deserve one,” Cheerilee affirmed, shrugging and shaking her head, “but it’s like there’s some kind of cruel irony at play; when I wasn’t interested, I had the opportunity, but now that I’m entertaining the idea…”

“Nothing.”

“Precisely.” She looked to her book, then slowly closed it and placed it on the table, neglecting to mark the page she was up to. “I swear I’m not pining for it, but whenever I’m reminded of what I don’t have…”

Once again, Diamond cocked an eyebrow and looked up at her, an ear rising to attention while the other remained somewhat splayed. “Well, I don’t think reading a romance novel every Hearth’s Warming night would do you much good, then.”

“No kidding.” Cheerilee smirked, but it was a hollow gesture, and gone before too long. “But I do it anyway because… I don’t know why. Maybe it’s a way of reminding myself that it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, if you’re principled like me and want the relationship side of a relationship, not just a casual thing here and there.”

Diamond paused, then peered down and scratched the back of her hoof.

“Maybe I’ve turned into a second-rate masochist,” Cheerilee continued, folding her forelegs across her chest. “Or… heck, maybe I actually like the stuff, and I’m just hiding my true feelings behind this wall of cynicism, or whatever. But at some point, I’ll say that I’ve read enough, then I’ll ask Berry over there for my first drink of the night, and then I’ll go home and eat pizza and ice-cream. And that would be my Hearth’s Warming night.”

This time, both ears perked up as Diamond returned to her. “Have you always spent it alone?”

Cheerilee’s ears angled back and she scrunched her muzzle up, lowering her gaze a little further. “Not… always. I used to go to parties, but then Big Mac found Sugar Belle, and then they got married, and that gave Bonbon and Lyra enough courage to finally, finally get hitched, and it pretty much spiralled after that; couples everywhere, sometimes triples, and then they all had foals. And it didn’t really feel like I belonged anymore.”

“Hey, that’s not fair.” Diamond’s brows hardened. “You’re being too harsh on yourself.”

“Am I?” Cheerilee cocked one of her own and looked up at her. “You go to a party on Hearth’s Warming with your happily married friends and watch them touch noses, and hug and kiss and nuzzle each other — and their children, if they have them — and tell me you don’t get a little sad. I understand that I’m supposed to feel happy for them, but it’s not easy when something you’re hoping for stares you right in the face, yet is so far out of reach. And yeah, like I said before, I know it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, but that’s literally all I ever see.”

Diamond’s eyes widened, lips parting, ears slowly falling limp against her scalp, a sympathetic chill gliding down her back and festering in her core, like a cauldron boiling over.

Cheerilee turned away, her expression a mixture of shame and mute discomfort. Perhaps if she’d stayed looking at Diamond any longer, she’d have started getting a little water in her eyes, so green and vibrant in contrast with the varnished timber used for the booth.

“It hurts,” she mumbled. “And you know they don’t mean it… but it hurts.”

“…I see.” Diamond ground her teeth together and laid her hooves on the table, frowning to herself. “Well, this is, uh… a bit of a pickle, isn’t it?”

Cheerilee didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. She’d said all she had to say, and clearly didn’t feel like joking about the matter.

Which was fair enough, and Diamond was in no mood to press her on it, much less with somepony she still respected, even after all these years, even after school had long since finished.

But she also knew that she couldn’t let things stay as they were. It wasn’t doing either of them any good, sitting here and brooding, ruminating on unfortunate circumstances and perhaps some past mistakes. There had to be a way to turn the situation around and, if not solve the problem at hoof, then at least ease the weight that was beginning to bear down on both of them.

Her mother had always advocated that a good vacation was exactly what somepony needed after a long period of stress, but that really wasn’t feasible. To say nothing of the short notice, it was the holidays — hotels and spas would be booked up and packed to the brink, and extremely expensive if they wanted to stay at someplace nice.

Drinking here would probably lead to more regret than the temporary numbness was worth. They needed a new topic of conversation anyway, and she knew that alcohol tended to make things unpredictable. She couldn’t guarantee that they wouldn’t bring up something even more upsetting, and think to change the subject. And then they’d be sobbing their woes until the cows came home, or until they did something even more stupid.

If they were in Manehatten, she’d have offered to take her down to the local gym, use this angst productively by punching bags and lifting weights. Paintball had been a strangely cathartic experience, and she later discovered that working out could, in some respects, be an enjoyable pastime. She’d even met her next potential client through it: a mare named Coco Pommel, about Cheerilee’s age, somewhat shy but undeniably pretty, and even more so when she tucked that flower in her mane.

But contemplating ifs wouldn’t solve the now, and presently, they still needed a solution — a distraction. Something to take their minds off the current state of affairs, and possibly the immediate future as well. And they wouldn’t find it if they didn’t shake things up.

That’s when Diamond’s ears twitched, then slowly began to rise, and she felt a certain lightness spread throughout her body. “Actually, Miss Cheerilee…”

Hesitantly, reluctantly, she craned her head back to Diamond, meeting her gaze with a despondent, but not completely apathetic one; there was still a hint of awareness in her eyes, and perhaps, distantly, the faintest trace of hope.

Diamond smirked, trusting that she wouldn’t disappoint. “Why don’t we go for a trip down memory lane?”

There weren’t any streetlights nearby, but there didn’t need to be — the moon was bright enough, and with the world covered in an almost pristine coat of white, its glow shone as far as the eye could see.

But there was only one thing they both had their eyes on.

The snow was solid enough that Diamond’s hooves didn’t sink too far as she and Cheerilee entered the yard, following the path up to the school itself. Icicles hung from the awnings and along the playground equipment, but aside from the shifting seasons, nothing about this place had changed at all; it was still the Ponyville Schoolhouse to her.

“Sweet stars above,” she quietly exclaimed, “is this place under some kind of anti-aging spell, or is the town really this deadset on keeping things the way they are?”

Cheerilee snorted, trudging alongside her. “The latter. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if Twilight did the former just before she left. You know, to preserve history.”

“Of course.” Diamond nodded. “Still, I’m surprised it seems to be doing so well, what with the School of Friendship just a hop, skip and a jump away.”

“Eh.” Cheerilee shrugged. “They’re more focussed on students coming from abroad.”

“Even after all this time?”

She hesitated, her pace faltering for a moment. “…Not entirely, I suppose.”

Diamond slowed in kind and peered over her shoulder, arching an inquisitive eyebrow.

Cheerilee was looking north, over the thatched and tiled rooftops in the direction of what was previously Princess Twilight’s castle, its crystalline spire catching the moon’s rays and shining like a beacon against the starlit sky. Though neither of them could see it, Diamond knew the School of Friendship wasn’t far off — just a bit to the east — and that was where Cheerilee’s thoughts lay. “I’ve heard… rumours.”

“What about?”

“That they’re planning to expand the pool of students. Take in locals as well as foreigners. Lower the age of application. Basically make me redundant.”

Diamond frowned in surprise. “Redundant? You?”

“Well, maybe not redundant, but… you know how it is.” Cheerilee shrugged again. “The strong outlive the weak, and the same goes for the Equestrian education system. They have facilities there that I can’t compete with, and the town can’t afford.”

“And have you checked whether these rumours are true?”

She paused, then looked to Diamond, then glanced away, pursing her lips. “No. But I wouldn’t be surprised if they were. Friendship is all about inclusivity, after all, and Ponyville is becoming more and more diverse; I have six non-pony students now, most of them with older siblings in the School, and they’ll head there themselves when they’re a bit older. Same goes for the rest of the cohort. Really, by this point, I’m just the middlemare.”

“And you’re sure they wouldn’t offer you a place if they do absorb your duties?”

“I’m sure, Diamond, that I’d turn the offer down if they did.”

Diamond blinked, eyes widening as her brows climbed high.

Cheerilee sighed, shaking her head, slumping back and sitting on her haunches, tucking her forehooves into the pockets of the purple jacket she wore. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she murmured, watching the snow in front of her. “Maybe I can’t adapt. Maybe I’m stuck in the past. Maybe I just want to go back to when everything was better. It just feels like the world is changing too much, too fast, and there’s no way I’d keep up, so… what’s the use in trying?”

“Miss Cheerilee…” Diamond took a few careful steps closer, “that’s not—”

“I know that’s not the right way of looking at it,” she interrupted, wincing and shying away from her. “But it’s how I feel. So, yeah, maybe you were right the first time; I was hiding from something. I just didn’t really know it then.”

Diamond stared a short while longer. This was most definitely a far cry from the bubbly, upbeat and outgoing teacher she used to know, who treated her students almost as if they were her own children. And while there were hints of that pony here and there, they were misdirected — used in all the wrong ways.

Change wasn’t bad, but it was also clear that this Cheerilee wasn’t comfortable with herself when she really thought about it. Introspection disagreed with her, and now Diamond was seeing the cost of it. And it upset her. In some ways, it pained her.

Once, there was a time when she might have let it slide — it wasn’t her problem, after all, even if she saw her just about every day of her life — but not anymore. As much as an admittedly sorry sight as this was, it only strengthened her resolve to do something. And although she knew she might not be qualified to provide all the emotional support needed, there was only one thing she knew she could do.

Coco Pommel would just have to wait.

“You know, I’d planned on going back to Manehatten in the morning.”

Cheerilee peered up at her from behind upturned brows, ears flat against her mane.

“If you want, I could… postpone it. For a week or two.”

She blinked, slowly rising to a more upright, less hunched over posture, lips parting as the words sunk in.

“Or however long you want — it really makes no difference to me.” Diamond airily waved a hoof. “I mean, it’s not like I’m on a schedule or strapped for cash or anything. The good thing about my job is that I’m my own boss.”

“Diamond…” Cheerilee began, then drifted off, then quickly blinked once more and shook her head. “No, I… You can’t. Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t want to be your next client.”

“I’m not speaking as a life coach, Miss Cheerilee.” Diamond strode a few steps further and put a hoof to her chest. “I’m speaking as a friend. Or an acquaintance, or whatever we are. We’re more than strangers, I know that much. And I know I want to help you.”

Cheerilee continued staring, her stunned expression gradually ebbing away. But still, she shook her head again, though she couldn’t bring herself to look Diamond in the eyes.

Diamond sighed and let her head sag, hoof returning to its little dent in the snow. “Look, I’m not offering to stay because it’s Hearth’s Warming, and Hearth’s Warming is about spending time with friends and loved ones, because if I’m being honest, I really wouldn’t mind leaving at first light. I came to celebrate with Mum and Dad, but Mum’s being pretentious and insufferable like she always is, and Dad still hasn’t grown a backbone. Nothing much has changed.

“Except for you.” She looked up, sombre and unsmiling, but not hard-hearted. “And yeah, maybe I am being presumptuous, or developing a saviour complex, or something… but I can’t go back to Manehatten when you’re like this. The Cheerilee I remember deserves a friend. And I want to be that friend.”

The world was silent and motionless. Not even the wind seemed to blow — if it did, it was only with the softest whisper of a breeze. And all the while, Diamond waited, and waited, and waited, a small pit of concern forming in her stomach, making her feel heavier, and that she’d sink into the snow at any moment.

But eventually, hesitantly, Cheerilee met her gaze, her eyes like the greenest grass in spring compared to the winter wonderland surrounding them. There was uncertainty, but that faint trace of hope had grown, and it was continuing to grow. Sprout. Blossom. Flourish.

And then it bloomed into a shy smile. “Well, isn’t this ironic? And something of a tired old trope.”

“What’s that?”

She turned away and chewed on her lower lip for a moment, before snorting and swinging back to Diamond with an even more heartfelt grin. “The student has become the master.”

Diamond paused, and then she beamed, giggling. “Yeah, that’s… that’s pretty funny.”

Another silence followed, this one more comfortable, but there was still a question left unanswered. Diamond was pretty sure she already knew what it would be, but she had to be certain.

“So, is that a yes?”

Cheerilee lingered on her, then lowered her eyes with a shrug and a gentle sigh. “I guess. I mean… if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not too much trouble?” Diamond echoed, then nearly burst out in a fit of bemused laughter. “Miss Cheerilee, it would be anything but. Forget the fact that you were there for me and so many other foals pretty much every day of our lives, you’re just… a good pony. Heck, helping you out would almost be a bona fide honour.”

“Okay, okay, quit being a suckup.” Cheerilee giggled and waved a placative forehoof. “I get the picture.”

“Are you sure? Because I could go on and on.”

She smirked up at her and narrowed her eyes. “Do that, Diamond, and I might start thinking you’re trying to butter me up for something.”

“Oh.” Diamond blinked, then glanced left and right. “Uh…”

“It’s fine.” Cheerilee waved again. “I’m just teasing. But thanks for the offer.” Her hoof returned to the snow. “It… means a lot to me.”

“Ah.” Diamond idly nodded after a beat, feeling her body winding down. “Well, I aim to please.”

Silence again, and yet more sillness.

It was broken by a sniffle.

Diamond’s ears twitched and her brows furrowed. “Miss… Cheerilee?”

“I’m not crying,” Cheerilee replied as she rubbed her muzzle with the back of her hoof. “It’s the cold. It doesn’t agree with me.”

Nodding once more, Diamond looked elsewhere, searching for something to inspire her — a new topic to keep the conversation going. And then she found it when she spied Sugarcube Corner in the distance, the amber glow of a lantern by the door illuminating the entrance. It was certainly a far more inviting and cosy-looking beacon than the castle.

“Speaking of the cold, maybe we should head inside,” Diamond pondered aloud, switching focus to Cheerilee again. “You know, if this isn’t working for you. Unless you have something else in mind.”

Cheerilee didn’t respond for a moment, staring at the ground just in front of her. And then, faintly, she smirked. “Well,” she began, and her forehoof started swirling, digging a little pit in the snow, “there is one thing I’ve always wanted to do that I can’t with my students. And now that you’re old enough…”

Diamond blinked for a third time, and she suddenly felt a soft but undeniably anxious chill dance across her withers and down her spine. “…Yes?”

And then, with lightning speed, Cheerilee sprung up on her hindlegs with a manic grin and tossed a snowball at her. “Think fast!”

It caught Diamond square on the snout.

She let loose a squeak and stumbled back, falling on her rump and desperately wiping the powder from her muzzle and spitting the frost from her mouth. “Horse feathers!” she exclaimed. “Did you seriously just sucker punch me with a freaking—”

“Think fast!”

A second snowball broke against her temple.

“Oh, it is on!” Diamond cried, scrambling to her hooves and scooping out a ball of her own.

And in the depths of a midwinter’s night, in front of the Ponyville Schoolhouse, throwing insults as well as the snow itself and laughing all the while, it was like they were kids again.

Hearth’s Warming, this year, would be a good one after all.