The portal to Equestria opened every thirty moons, for a night and day. It didn’t take Sunset long to discover both astronomy and math were required to track it, for ‘new moons’ didn’t count and human calendars irregularly placed the magic moment between the eighteenth and twenty-eighth of any given month. December proved weighted to the latter – Christmas came and went before telltale purple shimmered by the school-ground statue.
Sunset was good at astronomy and better at math. She sat idly on the statue’s base when the glow began, tapping her phone amid the wet of recent rain. She briskly hopped off the statue and turned, facing the glass reflection. Even without touching she could see it ripple like water.
She reached out her hand to push through. Froze.
A… very long time had passed since she went to Equestria. A different Sunset, who was not the kind of pony to be welcomed back with open hooves. The old Sunset wanted to conquer, enslave, kill.
Old guilt haunted the edge of her mind. She pushed it away and stepped through.
The world became warm, and two legs became four. Almost bizarre, how natural it felt. A different species and the rush of sensation as her horn touched magic in the air, but she did not even break stride as Sunset the human became Sunset the pony.
Princess Twilight wasn’t there. They had arranged for Sunset’s coming, but perhaps it was inevitable that timekeeping between dimensions be a little strained. Sunset kept walking, smiling as a weight pulled at her shoulder. Her messenger bag and its precious contents had survived the journey.
Sunset’s hooves echoed loudly in the cavernous palace. Crystal walls of faded purple and green loomed high and empty to each side of her, and went on until she found the main hall.
There had been quite the party here, once. A pine tree yet stood tall and decorated, three days after Hearth’s Warming. Bitten cookies and drained cups were scattered across the tables, although some effort seemed to have been made to clean and fold them away. Doubtless the job of the small purple dragon she last saw as a dog, now curled up dozing among a new scattering of cookie crumbs.
“Sunset?”
“Hiya,” Sunset said and turned. Princess Twilight glided from the balcony, folding two tablecloths in her magic as she came down.
Sunset raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Want a hand?”
“You mean a hoof?” Twilight teasingly corrected. “C’mon, you know how it is. The day after Hearth’s Warming you’re still kind of recovering, and the day after that you have to deal with the real-life stuff you’ve been putting off all week. Today’s the day we start cleaning up.”
She giggled, capping it with a snort. “Emphasis on ‘start.’ I still have no idea how we’re getting that tree out of here, but that’s tomorrow’s problem. Let’s go to the balcony, your chariot awaits.”
“Thanks a lot, Princess.” Sunset fell into step alongside her.
“Twilight,” the girl corrected. “No need for honorifics, please. At least not in private.”
For Sunset, it was less a question of honor than not confusing this Twilight with the other. But she could deal. “Gotcha. Still, thank you.”
They began climbing stairs, with Twilight chattering on. “A sky chariot is pretty easy for a you-know-what like me, especially now that the holiday rush is dying down. They’ll get you there and back. Wish I could come, but reality is really starting to batter down the door. Will you be okay?”
“Canterlot’s my hometown,” Sunset said as they came to the large balcony door. Her magic began to open it. “I know that place like the back of my–”
A wall of snow collapsed on her. The sky around them was white with frozen flurry, though two pegasi guards stood stoic and indifferent by their chariot.
Sunset had to laugh. “In human-Canterlot, it hasn’t snowed at all!”
“Really? It’s Hearth’s Warming!”
“I’ll write to their weather team. See you when I get back!” Sunset stepped in for a quick hug, braced herself, then sped out to the chariot. Magic runes kept it dry and warm, and the pegasi took off as soon as she stepped on board.
Hearth’s Warming in Canterlot was a thing of beauty and pageantry, with pegasi giving a perfectly-idyllic snowfall to compliment the lights and carolers.
Hearth’s Warming was over. The buzz of workers and grumbling machines slowly removed and packed the decorations, with oil and hoofbeats drumming the snow into muddy slush. Even the royal palace wasn’t immune. Sunset dodged workers and ducked ladders on her way inside before presenting herself to the first secretary.
There were many secretaries. Princess Celestia was more accessible than any ruler in the human world, but an unannounced visitor had few guarantees. One secretary sent her on to another. Both pursed their lips at her explanation.
“I have a present for Celestia.” Three days after Hearth’s Warming.
The third secretary did as well, but it seemed an act of concentration instead of disapproval. The off-white unicorn peered through thick glasses at her ledger, then cleared her throat. “Princess Celestia will take tea in fifteen minutes. Dishes for two will be set, and you will meet her there for thirty.”
Sunset hesitated. She had expected orders to drop off her presents for delivery, or to be simply turned away.
The secretary’s eyes peered up over their glasses. “Is there a problem?”
“Just like that?” Sunset blurted.
“Of course,” the mare announced primly. “You are expected.”
Sunset specifically told Twilight to not say anything. “How?”
Something like a smile graced the mare’s face. In a rush, Sunset noticed that she was middle-aged, and was the once-young secretary named Raven Inkwell she knew from her days as Celestia’s student.
Raven dabbed once at her eyes before resuming her stern countenance. “You have been expected for a very long time.”
Sunset used to hate Celestia, her mentor of magic and the mare who took her in from the streets. The princess of porcelain pristine perfection who preached patience as Sunset grasped for the power and authority Celestia made look so effortless.
Sunset was wiser now. Back then she never noticed the slight bags under Celestia’s eyes, or perhaps she just never cared to look.
Celestia ran forwards and embraced her. Her body was as large and warm as ever, and Sunset could finally appreciate the sensation she once complained made her feel like a baby. White wings wrapped around her, and Sunset pressed back for all she was worth.
She let Celestia groom and fawn over her, giggling as the mare licked down her ear fuzz. Celestia spoke little throughout, save a few quiet observations of how tall Sunset had grown. They didn’t talk about the past. Sunset tried not to see the tears hang in the large pink eyes.
They sat down for the tea. Sunset opened her bag. “I… I brought something for you.”
Three packages, all wrapped in shiny red and green. She pushed forward a flat, hard one. “Open this first.”
Celestia obliged, lighting her horn to make a neat cut along the end. She pulled out a picture frame with seven beaming girls, and Sunset explained. “I wanted to show you...”
...Crap, this was harder than she thought. She swallowed hard, trying to hold in her tears. “See, that’s me. That’s Applejack and Twilight, and, and you can fill in the rest, just the human versions of us all. We got together for a holiday picture. They’re my friends.”
“You...” another swallow. “That’s what you always said. Make friends. It’s not just love and sappy stuff, they give you strength. They help you along. They see your blind spots.”
Sunset took a deep breath. The words started coming a little easier, like she was back in front of the bathroom mirror. “I wanted to show you that I get it now. What I said back then about weaklings holding me back… idiot. We’re all weak. We’re all strong. We share the good times, and work together in the bad.”
She laughed. “I could write a thesis on it. Maybe one day I will. What you tried to teach me so long ago about friendship and cooperation, I finally get it.”
Celestia opened her mouth, but Sunset gave a tight wave. “Honestly, I’m going to start bawling if I break my stride. Just open the next!”
A wicker basket with a mess of goodies. Sunset pointed them out, one by one. “Apples. Duh, I guess, but I picked them all myself. I helped out Applejack one day and she let me take a bushel. And-and that’s a picture of my pet lizard. His name is Charmander (don’t ask) and Fluttershy taught me how to feed and play with him, and what to look out for to make sure he stays healthy. Those are cookies Pinkie and I baked… mostly Pinkie, but she showed me how.”
The next package, a larger box. Sunset kept speaking, faster and faster. “Rainbow Dash autographed that soccer ball and gave it to me when we won our first game. Th-that’s a scarf for you Rarity helped me design and crochet. And…”
A deep, slightly embarrassed breath. “That’s 300 typed pages of Human-Twilight and I putting our heads together on the possible connections between our worlds and the threats we might both face. I dunno, it might help you head off a monster-of-the-week down the road.”
A smile played on Celestia’s lips as she raised the hefty stack of paper. Sunset stuttered, feeling herself begin to lose steam. “I-I get it. What you tried to teach me. Friendship, love, cooperation. I’m stronger for them, but strength itself isn’t the goal. I wanted...”
A sob broke her voice. “I wanted… to show you…”
She sat in limbo for a moment as Celestia swept her up in a new embrace, then she began to cry. A tide of regret, of wasted years and spurned affection. Celestia wickered gently, scooping her up as though Sunset had not grown at all.
“Oh, Sunset,” Celestia said. Hot tears that were not her own slid down Sunset’s cheek. “Sunset…”
“...I am so proud of you.”
It was strange what came next, for Celestia was a very busy princess who would not normally have much time even for heartfelt reunion. Perhaps it was a belated Hearth’s Warming miracle that scheduling mishaps cleared her business for the rest of the day, with three important meetings and one grand opening delayed until later in the week. Celestia’s efficient secretary Raven Inkwell took all blame for the mistake, her first in thirteen years. Yet she only seemed redoubled in her duties thereafter, for all that day she allowed no one to disturb Celestia and her guest.
Author's Note
Glad post-Christmas tidings to all, and especially to TheBandBrony! I hope you enjoyed.
