White Wine in the Sun

by forbloodysummer

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Equestria Girls, Sunset Shimmer, Princess Celestia
Length: 3650

Yet again Princess Celestia gets to report: ‘Cause of diplomatic incident: Sunset Shimmer.’

Some ponies ruin Hearth's Warming by burning dinner or spilling cocoa on the carpet.

Sunset Shimmer ruins it by getting you both banished to the Saddle Arabian desert.

Preread by NaiadSagaIotaOar.

Written for herfaithfulstudent for Jinglemas 2021.

Published 2021-12-25 14:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2021-12-25 14:30:02 UTC

It's Sentimental, I Know

“I thought there’d at least be a tree,” Sunset said, kicking down at the sand as she walked and sending up a spray. She didn’t bother scanning the horizon to either side, she knew there’d be no trees of any kind anywhere in sight. “Tinsel, fairy lights, presents maybe.” Just the little things, at least. “Carols! What’s Hearth’s Warming in Equestria without those? Were they really too much to ask for?”

Princess Celestia didn’t look back as she replied, just kept her head trained on the emptiness in front of her. “Yes, well, if wishes were ponies, I imagine they’d be stuck in the desert too.”

Two days they’d trekked for so far. Sunset didn’t ever want to see sand again. If her friends ever wanted to hit the beach together, she’d leave them to it and meet them after for coffee somewhere nice and civilised and tarmacked. Or they could all go hang out in a meadow for a picnic instead. Somewhere the ground surface didn’t aspire to be simultaneously slippery and abrasive.

“I didn’t think it would go that badly.”

At that, Celestia did look back, and her expression was unmistakable: You never do.

“How could anyone have known?” Sunset would have gesticulated as she walked, protesting her innocence to the world around, but such things didn’t really work as a quadruped. Especially not when you’d only been a quadruped again for a week.

Not that there’d be anyone around to see, anyway, now Celestia had returned her attention to the sand in front of them, picking out a path and leaving hoofprints in the sand for Sunset to tread in before they filled and faded. Good Princess Wenceleslas in the infernal heat of Tartarus itself.

“I did warn you,” Celestia reminded her, in a tone that experience had taught to mean she was down to about 50% patience.

“Yes, but–”

“Don’t flirt with the natives, I said.”

“She had pretty eyes!”

Although not turning her head back, Celestia glanced over her shoulder at that, one big pink eyeball facing Sunset with a hard brow above it. “Of course she did, she’s Saddle Arabian. Most of them have pretty eyes. In her case, that’s why the Sultan made her a member of his harem in the first place.”

“It was a compliment! If he’d just given me the chance to explain–”

“He did.”

“He could have been nicer about it.”

Even with how they both panted under the scorching desert sun, Sunset could hear Celestia’s snort. “He was patient until you responded by telling him to, and I quote, ‘Sheikh it off.’ ”

“No but see that’s a pun, because there’s a Tayl–”

“We all got the joke, Sunset. And then the joke got us. Specifically, it got us thrown out of the palace, the city, the province, and the temperate region of the continent.”

Over the last two days of walking, Sunset had become accustomed to finding Celestia’s hoofprints with her own feet automatically and by feel alone, so she no longer needed to keep her eyes on the sand immediately in front of her. But at that moment she kept her head down, even when scuffing at the sand with a hoof and kicking it around rather than neatly following Celestia’s path. “Some ponies just have no sense of humour.”

“If only the same could be said for the alleged diplomat in my entourage.”

It had sounded like such a great plan. ‘Come spend Hearth’s Warming in Equestria,’ Twilight had said. Ponies singing in the streets, Canterlot houses draped in snow…

Then Celestia had mentioned her trip to Saddle Arabia, a sunny vacation at the ambassador’s residence to escape from the cold winds and dark evenings, and, even with the potential awkwardness of it being the first time they’d been together for Hearth’s Warming in nearly two decades, Sunset hadn’t been able to resist asking to accompany her.

Accompany her for a couple of days. With train tickets back to Canterlot booked the day before Hearth’s Warming Eve. That day was today, and the train had long since left without her. “I’m just saying, a few baubles wouldn’t go amiss. Maybe a pudding with brandy butter.”

“I think you’d just get a headache from alcohol in this heat. I’d prefer ice cream.”

Sunset had spent more than enough time close to Celestia back then to know how fond she was of a glass of wine now and again, so that was a bit of a warning. Several years of knowing Rarity had shown that alcohol was for occasions both good and bad, but a girl just wanting ice cream was never a good sign.

And why wouldn’t there be warnings? They were in the middle of nowhere – a particularly inhospitable nowhere – with only the contents of their saddlebags to sustain them. In Sunset’s case, that meant one magic crystal and a collapsible tent. She didn’t know what was in Celestia’s saddlebags, but guessed it to be much the same.

“...Are you sure we’ll be alright out here, on our own?”

At no point had Celestia looked any more concerned than ‘somewhat put out’ on her scale, but Sunset couldn’t help worrying Celestia was just putting a brave face on their impending end.

“Thanks to Twilight’s enchanted crystals,” Celestia said, “we’ve all the water we need. We’ve seen plenty of hydromelon and voltfruit plants, so I think we’ll be alright for food. And the Dahkur province is only six days at a hard walk. We’ll be in Irem, the City of Pillars, by this time next week.”

Despite being reassured, Sunset grunted. “By which time Hearth’s Warming will be long over.”

“Don’t worry, they don’t celebrate it there anyway.”

But of course. No Hearth’s Warming in Southern Equestria. Was Irem the one with the glowpaz festival? Or the fasting? “No secret santa for me…”

“No,” Celestia carried on as if Sunset hadn’t spoken, “I think our main concern on the journey will be sunburn. We’re awfully exposed here.”

Sunset missed a step and almost faceplanted into the ground. A great move that would have been, like everything else right now just needed a mouthful of sand to go with it. “Sunburn?” She tossed her mane, sparing a moment to appreciate just how wonderful it was to be a pony and respond like that. So much better than scoffing! “Princess Celestia, stellar mechanics made flesh, is worried about sunburn?”

Celestia looked back over her shoulder, first eyeing the shining white coat of her haunches, and then Sunset herself. “I don’t exactly tan.”

“Right, but can’t you just, you know, not raise the sun?”

“You want me to leave Equestria in darkness for a week so that we can avoid going a bit pink? And, on top of that, you mean without even warning anypony, so they just wake up tomorrow and it stays dark?”

“Ok, not ‘not raising’ it” – Sunset realised at the last second that air quotes absolutely would not work as a pony on the move – “but maybe just moving the sun a bit further away, so it doesn’t burn so much?”

Celestia blinked, then spoke slowly. “If I move the sun far enough away for us to avoid sunburn in the tropics, then in the North, Yakyakistan will freeze.”

“Isn’t Yakyakistan freezing anyway?”

“Leaving aside the life-or-death ethical issues of that for now… you’ve never seen an angry yak, have you?”

Sunset had seen Pinkie Pie shouting about smashing stuff while wearing a helmet with huge horns, and that was quite enough.

The sun was brutally hot. Sweat covered every inch of her coat, which she’d have been tempted to shave off if she’d had a set of trimmers. Naturally, that meant she’d be cooler but, as Celestia had brought up, more exposed to sunburn – because the alternative would mean she could have nice things, which she knew the universe was opposed to. “Anyway, isn’t ‘going a bit pink’ underselling what you just called our main concern?”

“Oh I was mostly just saying that so you wouldn’t worry about krayt dragons, maulwurf or shai-hulud.”

“Right. I don’t know what any of those things are, but thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Sometimes silence was better than conversation, Sunset decided.

“...So by sloping the qanat tunnel gradient just right, the water flows from the higher water table in the foothills down to the settlement in the plains without needing pumping at either end. They provide drinking and washing water for villagers, irrigation for crops, even cooling for ice houses. And ponies across Southern Equestria have been building these for thousands of years, by hoof, with very little magical help.”

Wow. For the first time in her life, Sunset accepted that maybe Twilight was a better choice for Celestia’s student than she had been. Twilight would no doubt have found that whole discussion fascinating. Sunset could barely maintain the enthusiasm to nod from time to time.

“And they said Clover was Clever.”

“He certainly did, at least.”

Sunset stared into their conjured-up campfire, trying to imagine what it must be like for ponies you once knew to become stuff of legend while you lived on to see it. “That bad?”

“One should have more decorum than to speak ill of the dead, so I shall leave tales of insufferable, couldn’t-not-let-you-know-they-were-the-smartest-one-in-the-room-at-every-conceivable-opportunity ponies in the past. Especially the one about the time said pony got a bucket stuck on his head.”

Sunset’s snicker was quickly overtaken by a shiver. Even with the fire and the sheltered lee of the dunes, the wind at night left a chill in the bones. Time to retreat to her tent soon.

But still, Sunset had to wonder. Would Celestia have opened up more than that on embarrassing stories of Clover the Clever if she’d been with Twilight instead? Twilight was drinking hot cocoa in Ponyville while Sunset was stuck in the desert with Celestia. Every single pony involved would have been happier if Sunset and Twilight could have switched places!

“They’ll be singing the Heart Carol at the end of the pageant about now,” Sunset said, half to herself, gazing up at the deep blue sky above, clear of clouds and packed with stars.

“They will.” Celestia, too, looked to the sky, though she had a quiet smile as her eyes drank it in. Then she clambered to her feet, unsteady from muscle aches that no doubt matched Sunset’s own. “Get some rest, we’ll need an early start tomorrow.”

“How come?”

“If I’m right, we’re not far from a pleasant place to spend tomorrow afternoon, but it will take us a while to get there.”

Sunset sat up. “We’re taking an afternoon off from plodding onwards?” Like that wasn’t just a hopeless dream!

The wind picked up just as Celestia turned away, towards her tent, so Sunset almost didn’t hear the soft reply. “It’s Hearth’s Warming. It shouldn’t be just another day.”

After that, Sunset’s eyes widened as she processed the implication that there was a place within this endless desert. Someplace distinct enough from sand and more sand to be worth visiting. In fact, Celestia had even called the place ‘pleasant.’ That, more than anything about Clover the Clever, Sunset would believe only when she saw it.

Hard not to get excited about it, though.

“Goodnight,” Celestia called, before dipping her head into her tent. By the time Sunset thought to say the same, the tent flap was fastened shut.

The fire would last until morning unattended, as it had the nights before. After a couple more minutes split between staring into the flames, dreaming of what the surprise tomorrow might hold, and longing for the marshmallows she’d have accompanied the night’s chill with if she’d been in Ponyville still, Sunset too headed to bed.

“Is that…? Is that really what I think it is?”

There was a happy sigh in Celestia’s voice. “It just might be.”

Sunset craned her neck, trying to get a better view past Celestia. She blinked, she rubbed her eyes, she tilted her head to look from several different angles, but the suspected mirage wasn’t going away. “An oasis? All the way out here, miles from anywhere?”

It looked like a scene drawn in a storybook, so jarring was the sight and so hard to believe. Dunes sloping down on all sides, but, there in the middle, a lake! Shaped like a crescent moon, with the outer curve bordered only by sand, but the inner bank sheltering lush green grass, reeds, and even trees. The water was a tropical teal, and the vegetation looked almost radiant against the sandy backdrop.

The whole vista made her think of a photograph with the contrast turned up too high, impossibly vibrant and vivid. Had she ever seen anything more beautiful?

Their walk increased to a trot as they drew closer, and even a canter by the end. Sunset knew better than to drink from the still water which must have been there for who knew how long, but she certainly waded in up to her knees. Blissful coolness enveloped her hooves, and she swore she could feel the itchy sandgrains drifting free from the skin beneath her fur.

Meanwhile, Celestia didn’t actually step into the water, but the serenity on her face was unmistakable as she ambled around the water’s edge towards the greenery. A passing detail caught Sunset’s eye, that as Celestia walked she scooped up several hooffuls of sand and floated them behind her with her magic. A moment later Sunset was watching, spellbound, as the floating sand glowed white hot, forced together into two molten lumps, which Celestia then blew on and shaped. The hissing of steam cut through the air as Celestia plunged the two shapes into the lake to quench them, but, from that distance, Sunset couldn’t tell what the final creations were once they emerged again.

Intrigued, Sunset followed, trotting the same path around the edge of the lake Celestia had taken, as if retreading her hoofsteps was just how Sunset moved now

“How’s the water?” Celestia asked as she approached, reclining on the grass under a tree while buffing something in her hooves with a wing.

“Delightful!” Sunset couldn’t help grinning. “I’d never have thought something as inanimate as a still lake could be so exciting.”

“I’m glad,” Celestia said, smiling. She set the two objects she’d been polishing on the grass in front of her, where they glinted in the sunlight through the branches.

“Wine glasses?”

Celestia unbuckled her saddlebags and set them gently down beside her, opening them and levitating out a yellowy green bottle, obviously white wine. A heavy wax seal imprinted with a fancy crest surrounded the cork, which Celestia melted away with an instant’s magic. “A Hearth’s Warming gift from Pith Helmet.”

There was a momentary pang of guilt, because they’d been supposed to stay with Pith Helmet, Equestrian ambassador to Saddle Arabia, the whole time until Sunset caught the train back to Canterlot. A kind old man in a distant land who’d been looking forward to company from home. “Oops.”

“Oops indeed.” Celestia chuckled as she poured out two glasses, handing one to Sunset.

“What about the headache you feared?”

“I think the day after Hearth’s Warming probably wouldn’t be right without one.”

Clinking her glass with Celestia’s, Sunset too removed her saddlebags and laid them carefully beside her, then settled down on the grass beneath the tree. They both sat in silence for a while, taking a sip occasionally and savouring the view of the greenery, the lake, and the dunes beyond. Even the breeze seemed cooler and more refreshing, although Sunset was fairly sure that had to be just her imagination.

“How did you know this place was here?”

With a wry grin, Celestia said, “I had a vague recollection from a map hanging in a palace study.”

Sunset nodded. And the wine, she had to say, wasn’t half bad. “What about guiding us here? How did you get your bearings, and know which way to go?”

“A wise mare crossing a desert, at this time of year? I followed a star.”

“Like sailors used to?” The amount of random skills and droplets of knowledge Celestia must have stored away of her lifetime were just too strange to think about, sometimes. “I didn’t know you knew how.”

“Ah, well, long before I was a princess, I wanted to be a pirate.”

An image sprang to mind of Celestia with trying to cram a three-cornered pirate hat onto her ethereal mane. “Right, so you, what, snuck into a dockside tavern and found some old mariner to teach you?”

“No, I went out sailing with some young mariners, and I taught them. Apparently it caught on.”

“You taught the nautical world to navigate by the stars?”

“Mmm.” Celestia absently inspected a hoof. “I wonder if anypony ever came up with a name for that.”

“All I said was that sledging would be nice!” Sunset gesticulated with her wine glass, almost spilling the remnants of its contents.

“I am aware. That is, in fact, the ninth time you’ve expressed that particular desire in the last few days.”

“I hadn’t realised you were counting.”

“What else am I supposed to do with the information?”

Sunset frowned. “Well, I mean, take me sledging perhaps?”

Celestia closed her eyes. A less princessly pony, Sunset thought, might have pinched the bridge of their nose.

“Look at that big dune over there.” Celestia waved a hoof beyond the rim of the greenery. “Another thing you’ve made abundantly clear regarding treacherous footing is how easy it is to slide down the side of a dune. A tree can easily be felled and the wood carved into a sledge. So. You are unicorn. There are some trees. And there is a hill.” She pointed in turn to Sunset, then the trees around them, and then the dune. “I would think the solution to your problem is obvious.”

With a critical eye, Sunset gave the dune a brief inspection. “It’s not exactly Safula Hill in Canterlot, is it?”

“No. But we’re not in Canterlot. We are a very long way from Canterlot–”

“And therein lies the root of my issue!”

There was a pause. Celestia visibly took a long breath, then set her wine glass down beside her and folded her hooves in her lap. “Sunset, you are 31 years old. The petulance is as irritating as I’m sure it’s meant to be. And it’s an expected, understandable response to everything that’s gone on with you, and I, and Twilight, and our history together.” She tilted her head to one side. “But it’s your own Hearth’s Warming you’re wasting.”

Sunset looked around, taking in the total lack of presents, tree, or carolers. Petulance indeed! “It isn’t much of a Hearth’s Warming.”

“It’s got everything you need.”

A glance through the branches confirmed the scorching sun. “Sure, I hear it might snow later!”

“It isn’t about the snow, or the decorations, or the presents.”

“I know, I know, it’s about remembering how the–”

“Nor is it about unity between tribes, or piety, or charity, or ponies born in stables long ago.” Celestia’s eyes flicked between the glass in her hand, Sunset’s face, the lake, their surroundings, and then back to Sunset. “It’s about this. About being with the ponies who matter.”

Whatever Sunset had been expecting, it wasn’t that. All she could really think of to do was look side to side. No answers presented themselves, so she returned her gaze to Celestia. “Who… matter?”

“Yes. Applejack would say that’s her relatives, Twilight her friends, Captain Spitfire her teammates.” Celestia leaned forwards. “Family is what you decide it to be.” Then she looked away. “And you won’t find many better definitions for family than the ponies you choose to spend Hearth’s Warming with.”

“I’m spending mine stranded in the middle of a desert. What does that say about me?”

“It says,” Celestia responded without hesitation, calm but firm, “that some years you won’t be able to see them, and that’s ok. These are ponies you don’t need to be near to be with.” She closed her eyes. “Just think of them, and know they’re thinking of you.”

Sunset scratched her head, squinting at Celestia. “How will I know that?”

With unflappable, certain, infuriating tranquillity, Celestia replied simply, “You’ll know.”

“How?” Sunset stood up, welling with energy she didn’t know what to do with. “How do I know who thinks I matter? If it’s defined by who I spend Hearth’s Warming with, then how do you tell the difference between ‘doesn’t matter’ and ‘does matter but can’t make it’?” She paced back and forth. “How, in my absence, will anypony know if I think they matter or not?”

Still outwardly calm but now with the steel in her voice that made lesser nations think twice before testing Equestria’s resolve, Celestia said, “They’ll know.”

“If Hearth’s Warming comes around,” Sunset shot back, hoping she wasn’t shouting but very aware of how her voice shook, “and I find myself–” she broke off, realising she didn’t even know the ballpark distance “–an impassable, impossible number of miles from home, then how will I know, exactly, that anypony is thinking of me?!”

“Because we’ll be waiting for you!” Celestia snapped, eyes blazing. Within a split second, they lost all their heat. “Waiting…” she dropped her gaze to the glass in her hand, and then lifted it to the sky overhead, after which she shrugged, “...drinking white wine in the sun.”

Sunset sat down hard, and for a long time she didn’t say anything.

Finally she shook her head. “What if you find the ponies who matter absolutely exasperating?”

Celestia looked away. “Well, what do you think the wine is for?”

Author's Note

Happy Hearth's Warming, everypony. Go read about qanats!