Chapter 1: Effie Returns Home
Music tugs at my ears as the train settles closer to stopping. Outside, flowers and banners decorate the streets of Canterlot, as ponies peer out the windows with little ones at their side. Home. No matter how many times I return, the excitement that wells in everypony's chest is as infectious as a common cold just shortly at the start of winter. My hooves shake as I draw them in close, realizing that yet again, I'd be back at home with the parents, back to where everything started and my life fell flat thereafter. "Now stopping, Canterlot Station!" The conductor at the cart's doorway shouts to be heard over the gossiping, glimmering voices. Truth be told, it only makes the anxiety worse. Why would my parents send letter for me, now, after all of these years? Why would they need me, the pony who ran out on them so long ago?
"Ma'am, your bag." I hear the stallion before I notice my bag in the way of his path. Snapped back to the train, I blink at him, having to hear him speak to me once more. "Are you okay, ma'am?"
"I'm home," I say, almost as though twice wasn't enough. My small saddle-bag glistens surrounded by a hue of shimmering magic. Peach colored, like my pelt. I move it for him, and he makes way with the others. I can only imagine the eye-roll he gives me as I get up to follow along.
Outside, the cool, crisp air of the mountaintops strikes my lungs like a blooming firework. Pegasi zip past, and earthponies gallop as though in chase. The Festival of Friendship. Like every year, the entire city has come to life as balloons, streamers, and party music fills the courtyards and castle gardens. I step from the train, horn continuing to pull my bags with me, and find everypony from the train dispersing to meet either friends, family, or loved ones.
And then there's me. I stand and stare out for a moment, hoping to see whether my parents would be here to greet me. A colt knocks me from behind, just enough that I stumble in place, acknowledging his soft apology. He finds a filly that he's probably visiting, and they leave, unicorn magic taking hold of two ice-cream cones. After a few moments, still looking out at the colorful terraces and bouncing tunes, I realize and remember that no, my parents won't be here for me. I was the one who left them; I was the one who decided that I would be better off following my own path. Taking stock that I have everything, I leave the platform just as steam spits out around me. Even the train seems to know that this can only be the end of the line.
Mom and Dad live in a cottage not too far from the falls. Years before I was born, they had elected to keep to the smaller living standard instead of moving into the city and falling in with everypony else. As expected, vine work decorates the southern side's purple stonework, and the fence we put in back when I was still around has definitely seen better days, its eggshell-white layering picking off in scraggly cracks. The fountain, a simple birdbath with a tower in the middle, spitting cool water for any wandering blue jay, still works, but small, wandering crevices tell me that it hasn't patched since before everything started.
I sigh as the music from downtown fades around the corner, the cobblestone street now replaced with grassier paths, actual soil. In some ways, a Canterlot pony would argue we lived in "Old Towne Canterlot," but suffice it to say, our part of town is just as old as the rest of Canterlot. Mom and Dad just haven't moved on.
The fence opens with a shine of magic, and before I can step my pastel-peach hoof into the dirt, I hesitate. Home. Do I actually want to be here? Do I actually need to hear whatever they had to tell me?
"Honey, Sorbet is home!" Dishes clatter as the fabric curtain separating outside from in zips open, revealing Mom to be peering outside. "And she's brought bags! Hurry, dear. Our filly's back home!"
The door flies open with a thunderclap that brings dust down onto a wandering squirrel. Dad, a stallion nearly taking up the entire door frame, stands there with that bear of his covering any smile he has. His eyes are two large, fanciful windows to a star field full of tears. I can see from the gate that he still has his tail cut short, his chisel-and-clay cutie-mark beckoning me back inside. "Sorbet, of all ponies!"
I open my mouth to tell them that I was only here for their message, but instead, find myself buried beneath hundreds of pounds of stallion. Just as ever, his muscle weighs as much as his heart, which he always joked was a carved pile of granite. "You must be exhausted from your trip, dear. Your mother and I have been worried sick for you since we sent that letter off weeks ago. You have no idea how long I've waited to have you in my arms again."
"Hey, Dad." I can only muster a wheeze as he draws me close to his chest and shoulders. My bags have lost all ability to float, piling into the grass and bursting like balloons, scarves and dresses exploding into the wind. "Nice to see you, too."
"Honey, you're messing up her mane!" Mom gallops out past him, and the sound of her horn catching grab of my things sends a shiver through my spine, ears dragged on back. "And how sweet. You brought your own clothes for the trip."
"Well, how else am I supposed to wear anything?" I ask. No, bad. Bad, Effervescence. I nearly clap my muzzle off as both she and Dad clench in parental glee.
"We bought you new clothes, honey." Mom's voice practically sings itself into my brain and inner-show-tune pony. "We can't let you walk around Canterlot looking like a village unicorn."
"I live in a town, Mom, with actual ponies who do actual, important things," I say. Dad unhooks me to pull something from behind his back. "I'm perfectly fine wearing..."
The two of them stand proudly on their hind-legs, holding before me what looks to be a frilly two-tone dress with one shade separating the other down the front. A tiara floats magically above, just the right size for any filly going to prom. "Isn't it fabulous?" my father says.
"Gee, how nice of you two," I struggle to say. "It's...adorable."
"And we just had to get it made custom for you. We only had the last sizes you left us with before you left," Mom says, "but the dressmaker assured us that she'd resize it for no charge."
"That Rarity sure is fabulous." The words slip out of my father, as it's fairly clear he's attempting through a rushed and rehearsed script.
"Look, Mom, Dad. It's great and all, but you didn't need to do anything special for me. I'm fine." I gather myself up from the dust and flowers, which despite all the frenetic energy appear to be well-grown and cared for. "I appreciate your joy to see me back, but could we maybe settle down a bit and talk things over coffee, maybe?"
And then I realize how wrong I was. Staring at me with the same faces they just held, the two glance at each other, feeling that their attempts have failed quite miserably. No, settling down was not going to be possible. I might as well have told them I was now moving to Seaquestria post-growing gills. "You...you're not happy?" Mom asks.
"No, I am. It's great to see you two. I've missed you both so, so much." I close the distance, and bring the two in with a hug. "I've waited for this moment for years, but I'm different, now. I'm not that young, snooty Canterlot pony I always wanted to be. I'm changed."
Dad nods. "You're right," he says.
"I am," I say.
"And you're an adult, just like I was." Mom lowers the dress, Dad still holding up his end.
"Yep, a fully grown mare, live and present."
"Which means you'll need more dresses and even a few hats."
"No, I didn't say."
"Then that settles it." Dad conjures the dress to vanish, probably tucked in a gift box with even more apparel. "After coffee, we'll all head into town and pick you up even more fancy clothes."
"And you'll have to meet my hairstylist, dear," Mom says as she crushes me in said hug.
I choke out a gasp that makes only dogs tilt their head in wonder. "Great, perfect."
"Everypony will be so thrilled to see that you're back to us."
"And what's the worst that could happen?" Dad takes his place close against my Mom's side. "No one even remembers how you used to be a colt."
The love that they cherish is the love that you deserve. "Wonderful."
