Velvet Quill & Sunny Skies

Chapters

I ~ The Writer
II ~ The Fair
III ~ The Letter
IV ~ The Princess
Epilogue

I ~ The Writer

I
The Writer

It is true, I never leave my house.

But it is true as well that its doors, whose numbers are endless, are open to every creature, and to every animal. Anyone may enter, at any time, whether the Sun or Moon is the one to stand above the doorway. They will find here no joy nor laughter, but they will find quiet and solitude.

And they will also find a house like no other on the face of this world – some claim there is such a house in Equestria, but they are lying.

Even those who are not my friends, and no-one is my friend, admit there is not one single piece of furniture in the house. Another lie is that I, Asterion, am a prisoner. Need I repeat there are no locked doors? Besides, one afternoon I did step into the street. If I returned before night fell, I did so because of the fear in the faces of common folk, faces as colourless and flat as the palm of my hand.

They are the ones who were afraid of me, I’m sure. I cannot have been afraid.

– From The Great Hall of Asterion

* * * * *

Eloquent. That was the sole word that came to Twilight Velvet’s mind, as she read the neatly-bound book twice, maybe even thrice over.

Perhaps it was simply that her editor’s eye had been left disused, in the time leading up to her return from maternal leave. Yet this had been a good month ago, shortly after New Year, and she’d finished her backlog in the last week, and no proofreader in the publishing house had needed to more than occasionally point her towards a misspelt word or misapplied term which may have escaped her gaze.

Upon her third reading, Velvet came to a conclusion; this latest in a long line of hopeful writers had a love of fancy writing, for better or for worse. Closer examination of the stack of submissions affirmed that what she’d seen was no trick of the eye. The fanciful little book had been placed in the children’s queue.

It wasn't pretentious, no – as a matter of fact, Velvet found it an interesting glimpse into Minotaur culture, from the meaning behind a Minotaur’s nose-ring to the story itself, a retelling of the great Asterion's quest to build a hall so large it would encompass the stars.

In all likelihood, ‘Sunny Skies’ had simply got lucky that Sealed Scroll was Head Publisher now. Some part of Velvet wondered how he’d have reacted to this, a thought which struck her as faintly amusing. He could be so very particular with word choices, especially for newer authors. Perhaps that was why the rest of the Editorial Board had sent her this after some discussion, with a note to go along with it that left the final decision to her.

She sighed, leaning back into her chair. It had felt good to spend six months away from everything, with all her attention drawn towards her daughter. Still, there was some comfort in returning to the old routine, and she thanked her lucky stars that dear Night Light’s lighter workload – relatively speaking – meant he’d be able to spend longer hours at home.

Velvet shot a glance at the newest framed family photo set upon her desk – the one of her cradling little Twilight Sparkle in her living room, flanked by a beaming Night Light, and Shining Armor who looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else.

‘Shining can take care of himself… Stars, I hope I’ve left enough in the fridge for Twily.’

Being Editor-in-Chief had its perks, however, and it brought some relief to Velvet when she noted that her own office was properly supplied, at least, with a mini-fridge for emergencies. Both for her and for Twilight, if need be. Such practicality commingled with decoration, in the form of the obligatory large, lush tropical plant sporting fan-like leaves by the door – because if she was honest with herself, Velvet never could remember its name. A more genuine source of periodic relaxation presented itself in the smell of fresh books stacked along the shelves.

Every so often, Velvet gave the rotary phone a shifty look. Perhaps she ought to call home, around this time. Shining had been a fussy colt, and who knew what sort of trouble he went through now as a schoolboy. Back in the day, she could rely on the office to give her a heads-up, which had drawn some awkward stares. These days, now that she effectively was the office, she hoped Twilight would remain a quiet filly, far likelier to be buried in those books that she outgrew so quickly.

But not all children were like Twilight. And speaking of books, Velvet’s attention was drawn back to the one before her. For duty called, once more, and answer it she would. She was no writer, yet her quill stood at the ready.

‘To Ms. Sunny Skies,’ she began. ‘We thank you for your submission, and for choosing Hoovesbury Publishing. Although we find your story to be an engaging one, it is with regret that we must inform you that, for now, we have decided not to…‘

The rest of the letter went by without conscious effort. She’d done this so often that it felt like tradition, for only one-in-ten proved acceptable enough for Equestria’s finest publisher of children’s literature. However, right before the rejection letter was to disappear from her view, going down the chute, Twilight Velvet made sure to stamp the folder containing the manuscript with the word, written in green ink, ‘Promising’.

But after that, she moved on to the next draft, and thought nothing of it for the rest of the day.

* * * * *

Three days after she’d sent the letter, there was a knock at Velvet’s office door.

Now, this was nothing out of the ordinary. Her work may have had her spend endless hours in front of typewriters under candlelight, yet it did not preclude her from visits. Often, it was an intern asking her where they’d stored most of their ink, publicists asking her to look over their latest press statements, or literary agents asking her what the delay was in getting their clients’ books on the shelves.

Or a writer coming without an appointment.

“Come in,” Velvet replied, without looking up from her letter. The door swung open, and in came her visitor.

“Hello!” the visitor spoke, feminine voice melodious and cheery. “Are you Miss Velvet?”

Velvet glanced up, pausing her writing. The pegasus mare that stood before her couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. Pale alabaster coat and feathers, with a bright pink mane and tail long enough to nearly touch the wooden floor. She carried on her a pair of heavy-looking saddlebags, yet this did not seem to weigh her down.

“Yes?” replied Velvet. “I am. And you are…?”

She’d hoped her tone didn’t betray her weariness, though the mare didn’t seem to notice.

“Sunny Skies,” the mare smiled. “I submitted my draft the other day. Did you get to read it?”

So bold, so eager. The name rang a bell, and here Velvet remembered the archaic words she’d held between her hooves those three days ago.

‘Fresh out of university, are you now?’ Velvet let out a sigh before she could help it.

Linguistics seemed likely, going by Sunny Skies’ antiquated choice of words in writing, though the mare gave little impression of that. If anything, her appearance made Velvet think of an overly excitable arts major. The mare’s mark of a sun sporting sunglasses supported the theory.

“We have, yes,” answered Velvet. “However, I meant to ask. Did you mean to submit it in the children’s literature queue?”

“Of course!” said Sunny. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Velvet’s words died in her throat. “Oh,” was all she could say. “I, um… Right.”

“Is this a bad time?” said Sunny, and here Velvet realised she’d been staring for too long. “I’m sorry, I could come by some other day. I wanted to talk about the letter you sent.”

Velvet waved her off hastily. “No, no, it’s alright, just take a seat. You’ve come this far.”

“My home is pretty close by, actually, but… Anyway, thank you,” said Sunny. She walked over to the chair opposite Velvet’s, snugly seating herself. “Nice office, by the way. I like your chair.”

Her build was no more than average, Velvet could tell, yet she seemed an odd fit, from the way she tucked her wings tightly against her body.

“Ah, thank you,” said Velvet. “My apologies, we usually get replies in the mail, so this is a little unexpected, even with our open-doors policy.”

And even with an open-doors policy, as well, Sunny Skies would still have needed to get past the building’s receptionist and Velvet’s personal secretary. As easy and unannounced an access as this suggested she must have charmed the socks off them.

Velvet held back a small smile, but on the inside, she couldn’t help a slight lamentation at how Equestria’s easy-going culture made the job just that bit harder for bureaucrats such as herself, who were a perennial target of gentle ribbing. To her, they felt no more properly appreciated than anywhere else in the world for the unexciting yet vital work they did.

Sometimes, the Royal Apartments of Canterlot Palace seemed like the only place in Equestria requiring proper appointment to enter, and still it was downright casual by global standards.

“I understand. It’s just that direct contact, I thought, would be nicer.”

Velvet nodded along, still feeling a touch unsure. “I see. Right, I… well, best to get right at it. Miss Skies, let me preface this by saying that you’ve written a lovely adaptation of a Minotaur mythological epic–”

“Actually,” interrupted Sunny, clearing her throat, “it’s more of a legend. It’s widely believed that Asterion was a historical figure from the Tauren Isles. Oleandrite travellers often hear about their legends in passing, you see.”

Oh, Celestia. She was a history major, for sure.

“Right, legend,” Velvet amended herself, dearly hoping she wasn’t sounding sarcastic at all. “Anyway, my point is, it’s richly written, beautifully illustrated, and deeply rooted in linguistic traditions, which is no small feat, and that is commendable by itself.”

“Thank you,” Sunny said brightly. Then her smile faded into a frown. “But… what seems to be the issue?” Somehow, she looked paler still, holding a hoof up to her mouth. “Oh, dear, how boring was it?”

“No, actually,” said Velvet. “As I’ve said, the quality is unquestionably good, at minimum. But…”

“But…?”

“It’s… quite above the reading level of your target audience,” said Velvet, carefully. It was probably Sunny’s eyes that made it hard to say this out loud to her – those wide, pleading magenta eyes. “Miss Skies,” she added, with all the sincerity that she could muster. “My son is nine years old and I’m fairly certain he cannot spell ‘indefatigable’, let alone pronounce it.”

Sunny’s ears drooped. “Oh, I see,” she said, voice a little shaky.

“Furthermore,” said Velvet, feeling her heart sink further, “Very few children have the attention span to go into all the intricacies of the world presented. It might be a better fit for, well, our young adult line–”

Almost as soon as she’d said it, Velvet regretted it. Why had she said it, she wondered, when it was plain as day for whom Sunny had intended her little manuscript, from the lush colours to the gentle way she had written her cursive.

“Miss Skies?”

“Maybe this was a mistake,” Sunny said quietly. “I’ll… think of something else to present.” She stood up. “Again, thank you for your time. I’ll be on my way.”

‘Stars above, why does this have to be so hard…’

It always seemed easier over letters, writing words with little emotion behind them. Clean, professional, and ever-so-slightly cold. That was the case for plenty of letters she’d sent before.

“Wait,” Velvet said, standing up from her own seat.

Sunny paused at the door, hoof stretched out to open it. She turned around, looking puzzled.

“I didn’t say you shouldn’t write about it, though,” Velvet added. “Very few children have the attention span, true. But it is, frankly, well within my job to help you with that.”

“Really?”

Velvet nodded firmly. “Of course.” She opened her drawer, bringing out Sunny’s book. “This is your first manuscript, correct?”

“Mhm,” Sunny replied. “Well, I mean, I’ve written stories before. A lot. But yes, this is the first one I’ve submitted in years.”

“Alright,” said Velvet. “I understand that this may be new to you. But rest assured, this is not a full rejection. I have to ask, do you still want to write for children?”

“Absolutely,” said Sunny, growing as bright as when she’d first stepped in. “And don’t worry, Miss Velvet. I appreciate your honesty. It’s what I was looking for in an editor.”

“Then I’ll give your draft here a look-over, suggest a few changes, and I’ll send it back to you first, how does that sound?”

“Oh, sure thing! And is it alright if I come back?” asked Sunny. “I mean if it isn’t okay then, that’s fine too. But I feel it’d be better if we just talked about it, face to face? For clarity’s sake, um.”

Velvet thought about this for a moment. “Sure?” she said. “Do you not have an agent?”

“Huh? Do I need one?”

“It’s what most authors do,” said Velvet. She shook her head. “But it’s no real hassle. At any rate, I’m usually at the office, unless I’ve stated otherwise.”

“Great! Thanks, Miss Velvet, I’ll see you next time.”

“Likewise, Miss Skies.”

* * * * *

For Twilight Velvet, the rest of the day went by rather uneventfully, to put it lightly, from the moment Miss Skies had departed her office. There came another round of reading, office gossip here and there before the new and modern water dispenser, keeping an eye out for the interns to make sure they were gaining legitimate work experience, all the usual activity. Nothing out of the ordinary was at the forefront of her mind as she unlatched the gate that led to her quaint residence, walking right to the front door in the balm of an early Spring evening.

Little existed to set her home apart from the other houses on Lunar Row. It boasted the standard two storeys, two windows on each floor, and a well-kept garden as their front yard. A visit to the neighbours’ places, once every so often, had told her that the same staircase and wooden floor would greet her in every other house of this little neighbourhood.

But it was still her family’s, which meant the world to Velvet.

“I’m home,” she announced simply, and a touch wearily, brushing her hooves upon the recently-cleaned doormat.

Having done so, now that she was home and no longer had to concern herself so much about looking her very best, Velvet delicately removed the pearl necklace that Night Light had offered her so many years ago, and idly slipped it into a waiting coat pocket. She would come back later to put it in its proper place, within the embroidered box on her vanity.

Upon the rack by the front door, there still hung the family’s coats in their different sizes, which no-one had yet had the heart to take down since the Winter Wrap-Up.

Gladdening to Velvet’s heart, as always for these past few years, was the answer that came when her husband poked his head out from their living room.

“Hey,” said Night Light. He emerged in full, not a hair out of place, with what passed for a cool little smile. “How was work, Velv?”

“Same old, same old,” answered Velvet, giving him a quick peck. “I guess that’s better than… I don’t know, I’m tired.”

Night Light gave her a soft nuzzle. “The kids miss you too, you know.”

“Hope they weren’t too much of a hoof-ful,” said Velvet. “Are you sure you can keep up?”

“Nah, nah, I’ve got this,” answered Night Light. “Just like I got it all handled with the Academy. These days, all it takes is a little enchantment, and you’d swear books just archive themselves. You just focus on what you gotta do, I got the kids. And hey– don’t fret about the milk, it didn’t run out this time, let me tell you right now. Twilight’s been quiet as a mouse.”

“Thanks a bunch, Booky. You’re a lifesaver,” said Velvet.

Side by side, they entered the living room together. By the fireplace, Shining was off reading one of his comics, seemingly that month’s edition of Power Ponies. So was his sister, engrossed in material of a rather different calibre. Twilight Sparkle, seven months and counting, was busily diving into their open phonebook, disproportionately large against their coffee table.

“Hey kids, Mom’s home!” Night Light exclaimed, with an exaggerated, sweeping gesture. Yet neither looked up from their books.

“Hi Mom,” said Shining, barely looking up from his comic.

Twilight, for her part, simply managed a tiny ‘harrumph’, so deep was she in reading rows of names and numbers.

“Miss me, huh, Booky?” Velvet said, glancing at Night Light.

“You know kids these days.”

Then Shining laughed. “Hehe, Booky… Can I call you Booky, Dad?”

“No, Shining,” Velvet said sternly. “That’s Mom’s word.”

“Awww…” said Shining, displaying as much exaggerated dismay as only a colt could. He went back to reading, with a growing pout.

“He’ll get over it,” said Night Light, shrugging. “Thanks for the save, though.”

“You owe me,” Velvet teased him.

“Audacious,” he replied, shaking his head. “I’ll get you something warm in a sec.”

Another kiss, and off he went to the kitchen. Sighing, Velvet sauntered off to her comfort chair.

“Hey, Twily,” said Velvet, after a moment. Her daughter looked up at her, tilting her head. Then she patted the phone book she was reading.

“Book!” she exclaimed. Velvet let out a laugh, giving the filly’s head a ruffle.

“Yes, book, Twilight,” answered Velvet. From her bag, she withdrew Sunny’s draft. “Here you go, Twily, have another.”

“Ooooh,” said Twilight. “Book!”

With both hooves, she accepted it, and off she went to read her newest treasure.

“I see someone’s outsourcing their job?” said Night Light from all the way at the kitchen counter, his aura wrapped around two teaspoons stirring two cups of coffee.

“Oh, knock it off,” Velvet replied, rolling her eyes. “Now I’ve got to figure out what to trim.”

“Aha, a toughie.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” said Velvet, massaging her temples. “Not every day a book needs a dictionary by the side. I’ll say again, she’s lucky I got to her first. Scroll’s way more keen on the in-depth approach and he’d have a field day dissecting it, and that’s not guaranteeing he’ll even accept it.”

Levitating a tray, Night Light came to sit himself across from her, giving her a tender gaze.

“That bad, huh?” he said.

“Probably. I don’t know. I’ll have to read it again when I’m not running on coffee,” said Velvet, taking a long sip out of her cup. “You’re not helping, by the way, because this, this is the good shhh– stuff. Good stuff.”

“Only the best, honey,” Night Light replied, making no show of checking whether Shining Armor had noticed his mother’s almost-slip. “Guess you’ll be breaking someone’s heart later.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Velvet bemoaned. “Look, she’s tried so hard, I can tell. Fresh out of university. It was pretty obvious. I wish I could tell her she didn’t need to try so gosh-darn hard on her first go.”

“But that’s exactly why she’s done it,” Night Light surmised. “I don’t suppose it was bad either.”

“It wasn’t, that’s the thing. I actually did enjoy reading it, but… kids, you know. They can be quite particular… ” Velvet set her cup down, leaning back with crossed forehooves. “I come back after six months and–”

Her words were interrupted by the poke of tiny hooves.

“Mama, mama!” said Twilight, punctuating her words with determined prodding.

“Yes, Twilight, what is it?” said Velvet at last, ignoring Night Light’s muffled laugh.

The filly pointed at Sunny’s draft. She’d reached halfway through, the visage of mighty Asterion painted on one page opposite the text. “Want more.”

Velvet blinked. “...You want more of this?” she repeated. Her daughter nodded with glee, flipping the current page back and forth.

“I– want– more!” she cried, giggling. Her gaze had returned to the book, eyes wide as she panned over the richly-drawn water-colours. “Book!”

Night Light looked at Twilight, then her book, then back at Velvet. “Well, looks like there’s hope yet for your client, don’t you think, Velv?”

“Alright,” said Velvet, giving Twilight’s mane a ruffle. “Let’s get you more.”

* * * * *

To Ms. Sunny Skies,

Your story, ‘The Great Hall of Asterion’, was brought to the Editorial Board’s attention at our most recent meeting. With the opinion of the Board accounted for, and after further consideration, we are delighted to inform you that it has been shortlisted for publishing.

The story of Asterion is a treasured yet unfortunately little-known tale in Equestria, and your impeccable adaptation is sure to draw many young readers into learning a foreign culture through its engaging prose and captivating art.

We would like to further discuss the terms and conditions, as well as your final approval, at your next available time.

Thank you for choosing Hoovesbury Publishing.

~ Twilight Velvet, Editor-in-Chief

II ~ The Fair

II
The Fair

Not for nothing was my mother a Queen.

I cannot be confused with common folk, though I might wish it were so.

The fact is, I am unique. I am not interested in what one creature may give to any other creature. Like all deep thinkers and like all the little children, I see no point in writing. Bothersome and uninteresting little details have no place in my spirit. If I ever learned the difference between one letter and another, I didn’t bother to remember it.

Do not send me letters. I shall not read them.

– From The Great Hall of Asterion

* * * * *

“I do hope all the edits are to your liking, Miss Skies.”

“Oh, trust me, they are, they are. Changing it to The Great Hall of Asterion, that’s a nice touch,” said Sunny Skies.

The author gave her copy of the altered manuscript another look-over. Despite the significance of the occasion, the first bridging of the gap between submission and publication which rests upon any writer, a crux between anticipation and apprehension, the look most prominent on Sunny’s features was a forlorn gaze which Velvet could only speculate at the meaning of.

At that moment, despite the fact Velvet was the one here who sat behind her own desk, in her own office, akin to her own little kingdom in the literary world, she suddenly felt beset by the kind of worry most commonly associated with guilt. Had she done something wrong?

“... Bitty for your thoughts, Miss?”

“Oh, nothing! Nothing… Simply that…” Sunny took a deep breath. “Each time I set myself a new project, I’m never entirely sure I’ll make it all the way through. And… well, there have been times in my life where seeing things through has… has felt of paramount importance.” She had been staring away from Velvet when she said this, yet now looked back at her. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m being overly wound-up, for making such a big deal out of a book. After all, it’s not the end of the world, right?”

Heavy words. And yet, upon hearing them, Velvet felt herself relax. This was heading back into territory she felt comfortable handling. Sunny Skies was not upset at her for making changes. By the sound of it, the writer opposite her was simply experiencing an artist’s anxiety. While expressed to a degree a tad stronger than the norm, nothing an editor was not equipped for.

“No, of course not,” Velvet said kindly. “But I’ve worked with books all my life, and I know that for those who love them, a book is like a world in itself. For writers perhaps most of all.” Where she had been sitting up straight, now she leaned forward slightly. “And writing means a lot to you. I could see that right away.”

Funnily enough, nowhere was this more obvious today than in Sunny’s choice of attire for the big event, wearing a sunhat and sunglasses. No later than a day had passed since she’d penned her approval that Sunny appeared in her office once more, all dressed for the occasion with what passed as her finest wear.

“It started with reading, actually,” said Sunny. “I used to read to my sister when she was little. She’d ask me to read for her every night.”

Right. A sentimental reason, then.

Deep down, Velvet felt glad it had waited until after her revisions for this story to be sprung upon her. Authors may write from the heart, yet sincerity or passion alone did not a book make. An editor was like an engineer. Where visionaries dreamed, technicians worked on the nuts-and-bolts. Too often, this meant the unhappy task of informing the dreamer that what they’d envisioned, bluntly put, would not work.

Of course, the practical-minded people have been known to be wrong as well.

“Mmm, I see,” Velvet said. She allowed herself to smile. Her work was, if not done, then halfway carried out. She could afford to speak from the heart. “Speaking as your editor, I wouldn’t worry. Your sister would be proud.”

Perhaps she had meant it as a kindness, Velvet thought. Some words of comfort, or encouragement. Simply a moment’s courtesy.

All that fell by the wayside, though, as Sunny’s eyes darkened. How else to describe it, Velvet thought fleetingly, seeing the corners of Sunny’s lips twitch and quiver, eyes looking down upon the drawing of Asterion’s Hall in her original manuscript.

“She would be, wouldn’t she,” Sunny murmured. “Last Hearthswarming would have been her birthday…”

The moment passed, then and there, the gloom over Sunny fading as fast as it had first appeared. When her gaze returned to Velvet, so did a smile, yet a peculiar weariness remained that did not belong on so young a face.

“Thank you. It means a lot, Miss Velvet.”

Whatever it was, perhaps Velvet should not pry further. So she merely nodded.

“It’s no trouble, Miss Skies. We’ll keep in touch.”

* * * * *

With the speedy efficiency of the fanciful, for which Equestria was renowned, the process from manuscript to publication that took months elsewhere was only a matter of weeks. Once Hoovesbury, the publishing house, had assigned its team of bookbinders and designers to convert the manuscript into an appealing format, water-colour illustrations included, the newly-bound book was sent off to get printed in copies by the thousands. After which, the business of ensuring the book reached an audience was no longer the sole domain of Hoovesbury. Working in partnership with their distributors, it then fell upon the latter to find literary outlets who’d be interested in selling these copies.

And even in Equestria, one required marketing to kick-start demand.

But at the end of it all, seven days after publication, The Great Hall of Asterion reached the fourth spot on the Equestria Daily bestsellers list. Nothing too special for thatlist, where books rose and fell at a whim, yet for a children’s book, it might as well have been top of the world.

Velvet had seen it in the morning edition of The Canterlot Times, as was her custom every day. The reviews had been kind. Sunny Skies’ writings had proven captivating enough, for both parents and the children they’d read to. All it had taken, she flattered herself to think, was to trim and shuffle the weightier exposition scattered throughout, and convince Sunny to repurpose this content as appendices for the more curious, older readers.

‘My kids loved it, all four of them,’ read a comment. ‘Wouldn’t miss this one.’

‘Might be a tough one for the little ones, but it’s no bore.’

‘A fine debut for Miss Skies.’

Not that it would be hard to miss outside of review columns, either.

The banner at the nearest Barns & Stables featured prominently in the shop’s front window. Hoovesbury’s marketing department were no slouch, and Sunny’s magnificent water-colour painting of Asterion stood as the centrepiece.

It easily drew Velvet’s eyes when she went there on her lunch break, just as it did a few others.

“Do you think it’s worth a read?” asked a blue pegasus stallion, a construction worker, holding a copy before him. “I don’t know, it’s a kids’ book. The girls might love it, but I hope it’s not… you know, boring.”

“I found it a pleasant bit of bedtime reading,” replied his colleague, a tall grey earthpony mare. “Not that I have children, mind you.”

“Well, if you say so…”

Keeping a tiny smile to herself, Velvet moved on from the display, passing by a growing reading group in the children’s corner.

* * * * *

Time and time again, Sunny Skies’ name continued to rise, with each new book to hit the shelves.

First amongst the children, who’d adored her painted illustrations that adorned every page, and lovely words that spoke of distant lands and charming heroes. Then the parents, who’d grown fond of reading to their children, and for themselves. Many a family who’d been awed by her work, and even those without.

In the wake of The Great Hall of Asterion came The Rainbow Crow, the retelling of yet another timeless classic folk tale beautifully adapted by each stroke of her quill. Another year after that, The Tempest Crown, her first work to get showcased on Equestria Daily’s Featured list. Then The Hippogriff’s Dream, Cloud Chasers of Farsina, Dragon’s Tear…

All of which spoke of distant lands, exotic people she wrote with such familiarity that Velvet and many others could imagine themselves walking in the streets of the Saddle Mareabian cities of Farsina and Intisar, or traverse the treacherous Dragonlands. All of which were as beloved as the other, cherished and spoken of with such fond words and praise by the masses.

With each passing year, and each published book, Sunny’s visits grew scarcer and scarcer.

Perhaps it was to be expected, for plenty of authors, whether it be veterans like Tale Spin and Rough Draft or other rising stars like A.K. Yearling, all found themselves swamped with requests and deadlines and book signing events.

Yet, even then, Sunny seemed a busier mare than most.

As friendly as Sunny had always been to Velvet, so inviting and warm, she herself had never been one to share much. One day she would speak of travelling as far as Neighpon or Saddle Mareabia. Other times she’d arrive late from what must have been quite the adventure at the zoo – or so she claimed. Once, Velvet could have sworn she saw Sunny exit Duke Azure Blueblood’s airship in a hurry, when she passed by the docks.

A charmed life, indeed. Sometimes, Velvet’s curiosity got the best of her, and she’d ask Sunny whatever it was that she had busied herself with.

“Oh, I travel a lot. I like travelling,” was all Sunny had to say, each time.

Not that Velvet had any room to judge, she’d reflected, whenever either of her children needed her at home in the time she could spare. Twilight Sparkle was rapidly outgrowing her classes, her grasp upon even the simplest of spellwork like levitation far beyond her peers’. And soon, Shining Armor was to join the Guard, as he’d long dreamt, once he was out of high school.

As for Sunny, perhaps it was her preference, to be private and withdrawn outside of those intermittent times she’d agreed to book signings. Whatever her errands were, her business outside of her work with Hoovesbury, Velvet had little urge to pry. So long as she sent her manuscripts in on time – and though far and few in-between, the quality was worth the wait – there was little she had to worry about.

Such it had always been, day by day, season by season.

Then, only two years later, starting with a reprinted edition of The Great Hall of Asterion, Sunny began dedicating her books.

A simple sentence, right in the centre of the page after the customary foreword, written in red and gold ink, which could not have been cheap. Yet Sunny had insisted.

‘For my daughter.’

She had never mentioned her once, and whatever her reasons, Velvet let her be. So the matter passed, and life went on – until the book fair came, in the height of Summer, six years after Velvet had first heard Sunny’s knock upon her door.

* * * * *

The Hoovesbury Book Fair was, safe to say, the literary event – at least for those in the publishing trade. Not the only major book event of the year, mind, yet the week-long fair was the one on everyone’s watchlist. Every year, every Spring and Autumn, hundreds and perhaps thousands of titles from Equestria’s best publishers were presented to schools all across the country, attracting the children’s eyes.

For the lucky ones, there were signings, too. This year, Twilight’s school was amongst them, and so Velvet had volunteered to chaperone and help around at the stall the moment she learned.

Now, four hours since she’d last seen Twilight, seated behind the curtain of Hoovesbury’s booth here in the school library, Velvet wondered if she should have even bothered.

She was fairly certain she saw Twilight build her own little book fort, a few aisles down from the booth, made out of Daring Do books. And once Twilight had retreated into the fort, there was no pulling her out.

Part of Velvet felt some relief that Twilight could watch over herself so easily once she’d been pulled into her readings. And yet another part of her wished that Twilight were here, by her side, reading one of her books. Silent, perhaps, but she’d be here all the same.

Her wistful thinking, as she scribbled a few miscellaneous notes on the books Twilight wanted as well as the next short story anthology, faded amidst disappointed murmurs and frantic reassurances. Then the purple curtain parted, and who else should come in but Sunny Skies.

The poor mare looked frazzled, her braided pink mane a little messy, her coat a little soaked, and even her usual hat was ajar.

“Long day, huh?” asked Velvet. Sunny only let out a sheepish laugh.

“Oh yeah,” she said, shaking her head. “They just won’t stop coming, will they?”

“Nope,” Velvet answered, scooting over to provide a seat. “That’s fame for you. Don’t blame me, though, you signed up for this, Miss Skies.”

This drew another, even more flustered chuckle from Sunny, one that drew Velvet’s laugh in turn. Once it subsided, Sunny had seated herself beside her, looking for all the world like she wanted nothing more than to sink into the cushion.

“Alright, fair enough,” said Sunny, shrugging. “I suppose I did ask for this, and now…”

She looked down at her hooves, ears flicking, and her magenta eyes looked quite contemplative of the carpet. Velvet tapped at her notepad, then put it aside.

“Now it’s become a bit much,” Velvet continued for her, “and you’re not sure if it’s what you actually wanted.”

Sunny nodded at that. “It is nice, but… I guess times do change.” She glanced at her wrist-watch. “Goodness, I hope I won’t be home late. I promised I’d cook dinner tonight!”

“Well, I’m sure your partner’s not going anywhere,” said Velvet. Almost immediately, she regretted her choice of words. “Or… darn it. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed–”

“Oh no, it’s alright, really,” said Sunny, smiling for a moment. She looked down at her hooves, ears flicking. “I prefer to fly solo, if you catch my drift. It’s just… well, you know.”

“Hm?”

Sunny looked up above, towards the ceiling, a strangely wistful look etched in her face.

“It feels like I can’t catch up,” she said, her voice weary and low. “I know I try, but… do you feel like you get left behind, too?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your kids,” Sunny added. “Do you feel left behind sometimes, Miss Velvet?

“Oh… you’re talking about your daughter?”

“I am,” Sunny answered. “She’s a real brilliant gal. Assertive, too.”

“Ah, is she now?” Velvet said, feeling a little tease come up. “You haven’t seen my daughter, then.”

“No, no no, we are not having this,” Sunny chided, though her playful tone betrayed her. “No contest. None.”

“You started it, to be fair,” Velvet retorted. But Sunny’s question lingered, and there was that look to Sunny that reminded her all too well of Twilight, whenever she insisted she could go on with whatever homework was due that night. She glanced at her notes, the unfinished list of books taunting her still, and sighed.

“It can feel like that,” Velvet began. “Like you’re playing catch-up, and one part of you is just so, so proud of them and the other part wishes they could just… slow down.”

It was as best as she could put it, recalling those few days when Twilight started citing books Velvet hadn’t even known existed.

“I suppose,” agreed Sunny “My daughter’s… well, she’s got dreams. You know how far they’d reach. All the way up into the stars above.”

“And yet you’re afraid they’ll fall,” Velvet continued solemnly. “That you wouldn’t be there to catch them when they do.”

“If,” Sunny corrected. “If they do.”

“You sound so certain.”

“Oh, yes,” Sunny replied, laughing. “If you met her, you’d know what I’m talking about.”

“Yes, well, they can be so confident, I can tell you that,” Velvet added, letting out a groan before she could help it. “Try having two overconfident little rascals around.”

Sunny looked at her, mouth agape.

“No,” she said.

“Hey, we wanted two, so we got two,” said Velvet, shrugging. “I suppose we could have thought it through, because now one of them’s aching to go out there and make a name for himself in the Guard, and the other…” Velvet pulled the curtain back a little. She allowed herself a fond smile. “Well, off to read another library’s worth of books.”

“Ah, rascals,” Sunny said, patting Velvet with a fluffy wing. “I simply can’t imagine having to deal with two of them.”

“It is what it is,” said Velvet. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“Neither would I,” Sunny added, and even without looking at her, Velvet could tell she was smiling too. “If I ever get the chance, I ought to introduce you. I suppose editing isn't exactly her thing but… if only I had more time for all this.”

From within her saddlebags she withdrew a book. A copy of Stardust Grove, her latest work, a tale of Reindeer and the hidden world they wove in the Frozen North. Sunny beamed as she looked at the cover, of the Reindeer King standing tall atop a great northern mountain.

“She doesn’t really do readings, you know. Wants to do everything herself, but I know she does like it when I read to her. Goodness me, there’s so much I want to do with her.”

“Oh, tell me about it,” Velvet concurred. “Six months away after having them and I just couldn’t wait to get back to the thick of it. But these days…”

There came that sinking feeling, yet again. She couldn’t tell what it was, nor should it concern her much. Here and there, she’d felt strange, crushing longing.

Nothing more she’d wanted to see than Twilight come over to her booth here, book in tow, just like she used to.

“Velvet?” Sunny’s voice chimed in. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Velvet lied. She realised that she’d been fumbling with her pearl necklage, and let it go. “Tell you what, actually. You can go right on ahead, if she needs you that badly.”

“... Really?”

“Really,” Velvet replied. “I’ll take care of the fair for today.”

“Oh, if it isn’t too much to ask. But–”

“Sunny,” said Velvet. “You promised your kid. There’s still two days left in the fair.”

“Are you sure? I mean…”

“What are you cooking for her?” Velvet cut in, hoping it wasn’t too abrupt of an interruption.

“Ah,” said Sunny, who looked a little bit taken aback. “Just her favourite pancakes.”

Velvet poured all her conviction into the next words she spoke. “Then just go, you wouldn’t want to miss it for the world, and neither would she. I’ll tell anyone who asks that you had another errand, and they’ll look the other way.”

“Even Mister Scroll?” asked Sunny, enunciating the name with a hint of worry.

“Especially Mister Scroll. You can trust me on that.”

Sunny’s eyes widened. “Alright, alright, Velvet. I’ll see you around later. Best of luck!”

She stood up, and out the back she went, without another word. It seemed strange that someone who was so outwardly of a bright disposition could conceal such fretful agitation. But that mattered little to Velvet. Whatever Sunny’s business was with her family, that was her right to return to it as soon as possible, visibly keen as she was to do so.

If only she had gone out the right side of the booth.

“Hey, Sunny?” Velvet said, standing up, reaching for the exit curtain. “You went the wrong way. Door’s closer over–”

But Sunny was no longer there. Only an empty aisle, with not a soul to be seen. Another glance revealed nothing else to Velvet. Soon, shrugging, she went back inside the booth, her quill fast at work with the notes she’d left for a while. It was so strange, though, Velvet would still be reflecting many hours later.

Because for a moment, just as she’d pulled the curtain, unless her eyes had deceived her, she’d caught the briefest flash of yellow light.

III ~ The Letter

III
The Letter

Of course, I am not without my games.

Like the bull about to charge, I run through the stone galleries until I fall dizzy to the floor. I crouch in the shadow of a pool or around a corner and pretend I am being followed.

But of all the games, I prefer the one about the other Asterion.

I pretend that he comes to visit me and that I show him my house. I say to him, "Now we shall return to the farthest corner". Or "I knew you would like the ceiling, once we found it”. Or "Now you will see a pool filled with sand". Sometimes I make a mistake and the two of us laugh heartily.

To this day, I do not know when he was a Changeling and when he was just me.

– From The Great Hall of Asterion

* * * * *

The days after went on, with all the rote routines and daily woes that accompanied them.

Perhaps it was her own self that saw it differently. A little older, a little wearier still, in the days that grew quieter for Twilight Velvet, with both Shining and little Twilight spending longer and longer days at their respective schools. At the very least, her beloved Night Light was always so reliable, a shoulder to lean on as they awaited the time to pick up their children.

Her work came and went, day by day, author by author. Whether it was Rough Draft’s latest historical epics or Yearling’s latest blockbuster, the writings often blurred in her eyes, with all of the work she needed to do.

What stood out to her was that one day in Spring, two years after they’d spoken at the fair, when Sunny Skies failed to submit her manuscript.

This was nothing out of the ordinary, at first. Her clients often had their own reasons, and they’d follow through within a week, two weeks at most. But then Sunny missed another deadline, a whole week after she’d promised it. Now, in and of itself, this would have been nothing amiss.

What struck Velvet was that Sunny hadn’t come in person, for she had only learned of it by letter.

* * * * *

“... Must’ve been quite the meeting, don’t you think? I’d never seen the Princess so tense.”

Velvet had hardly registered what Night Light was saying over breakfast, one morning in late Spring, as she read through the letter a second time. She’d found it during the usual sorting, as Night Light read the morning paper, where the headline was covering some meeting in Parliament she could not care less about at this moment.

‘To Miss Twilight Velvet,’ the letter read. ‘Unfortunately, I will not be able to make this deadline. I will get to it sooner than later, I hope. Many apologies. Sunny Skies.’

She read it a third time. No use there, though. There was no mistaking the hoof-writing, elegant, exquisite, ever so slightly flowery. But it was such a plain-looking letter, devoid of anything but the address of the receiver written upon the scroll.

A glance at the calendar only confirmed her worry. Two whole weeks had passed by now since her first promised deadline. Generous as Hoovesbury was, it was all but certain that Sunny was burning up goodwill fast, and Sealed Scroll was not known for giving away third chances.

For a second or two, Velvet considered writing a reply. Perhaps an inquiry, a warning, an ultimatum or however it went. But here and now, time was essential.

“Hey, Velv, you alright?”

“I’m going out,” said Velvet, getting up. “Sunny’s place. I know I have the address somewhere.”

“Wait– Sunny’s place?” Night Light repeated, folding his newspaper. “Hold on a moment now–”

“It’s been two weeks,” Velvet said, moving to pick up her coat, which she’d left slung over a spare chair at the breakfast table today. The weather team had forecast a few late showers. “Two weeks too long.”

“I mean, she could be dealing with something else.”

“She never misses a meeting, Booky,” Velvet reminded him. “She comes over even when you tell her she doesn’t need to.”

“That much I know,” Night Light conceded. “Right, just be careful out there, love.”

Velvet gave him a quick kiss. “I will.”

With a few strides, she was at the front door, passing by the empty living room and the staircase. Just as she held a hoof to the doorknob, she looked up the stairs.

“Twilight, Shining, I’m heading out!” Velvet called out.

No answer came, and Velvet felt a touch of embarrassment. Of course neither of them were going to be answering. Twilight’s extra classes meant sleepless nights and tired mornings, and Shining was still off at his friend Poindexter’s – flugelhorn practice, he’d claimed, but Velvet felt sure it’d really be yet another session of that daft little board game he and his friends played.

Letting out a long, tired sigh, Velvet stepped out the door, closing it behind her.

* * * * *

Finding Sunny’s address had been trivial. Under normal circumstances, she usually wrote her return address on her letters. A clean search through the office got Velvet the address within the hour, and she was certain of it, for she’d never known the Post Office to miss its mark. It had been more difficult to explain her absence for the rest of the day, especially to Sealed Scroll, but a mention of Sunny Skies was all she required for him to leave her be.

Reaching Sunny’s home turned out a little more convoluted. From Velvet’s home at Lunar Row, down the road past the Fountain Square, and past the Opera House straight to Starswirl Lane. A mild annoyance, as Hoovesbury Publishing was practically on the other side of the city. One respite Velvet welcomed was that the rush hour had passed, and the trams in the Northwest Line weren’t as filled with dockworkers and weatherponies now as they were an hour ago.

The houses in Starswirl Lane were of an older build, and Sunny’s was no exception. Its bricks were aged, though brushed over with a newer coat of paint, that ubiquitous ivory white seen all over Canterlot. There was no garden at the front, and the house’s black, wooden door faced a few steps that led straight to the pavement.

Velvet consulted the address she’d written down, then back at the street number. No. 5 Starswirl Lane. This was the correct address.

Without another word, she took a few steps up and reached for the door knocker. Once, twice, thrice she went, the hard metal striking wood with a sharp knock.

She didn’t have to wait long before the door opened. But the mare who answered the door was not Sunny Skies.

Where Sunny Skies was tall and sprightly, the aged, light blue unicorn mare standing before Velvet was short and, dare she say, a little decrepit. But then Velvet looked at her eyes – her good eye, that is, for the other was scarred shut. A brilliant shade of green welcomed her, a sight that reminded her of lectures on grammar and Standard Equestrian Style…

“P-professor Inkwell?” Velvet stammered out.

“Oh, hello, deary,” said Inkwell. “Why, I hadn’t been expecting anyone this fine morning.”

“I… I see,” said Velvet, clearing her throat.

Certainly, though it remained unsaid, the last person she’d expected here was her old professor from the School for Gifted Unicorns.

She scrunched up her brows in thought, rummaging her brain for the right questions. Maybe it would be rude for her to be direct, to inquire so bluntly. But she needed her answers.

“I’m sorry. I was… expecting someone else here.”

Before Inkwell could reply, Velvet presented one of Sunny’s letters. Inkwell’s one remaining good eye squinted at it.

“I’m looking for Sunny Skies.”

“Oh, Sunny,” said Inkwell. She furrowed her brows. Then she laughed fondly. “Ah, she’s nice. You’re from her publisher, yes? Come, come, I’ve just had some tea prepared.”

Hesitantly, Velvet followed her inside.

Much like the facade implied, it was a small, yet regal place. An odd familiarity belied it, for it much resembled the houses on Lunar Row, with a wooden staircase leading upstairs close by the front door, and a warm carpet that covered every inch of the floor. Were it not for the lack of family photos and children’s laughter, it might have passed for a home she’d grow old in.

‘Not that it’d make much of a difference,’ Velvet thought morosely, as she followed Inkwell into the living room, past the foyer.

Now here the difference was more stark. The bookshelves looked older, their polished wood hiding chips on their surface. The fireplace, too, was of an older make than hers, consisting of bricks and a metal gate.

“Do have a seat, Miss Velvet,” said Inkwell, picking up a tray of tea with a flick of her horn. “These morning hours can be so tiring.”

“Do you live here, Professor?” asked Velvet, blurting out before she could stop herself. “Sorry. I thought you lived across town before.”

“Hah! Always were the inquisitive one, Miss Velvet,” said Inkwell, sitting down on the seat opposite hers. “I do. It’s not an awfully long walk to the school, either. Oh, these old legs do seem to be getting on in years…”

Velvet smiled at that, though she could only muster a thin smile. “Still off teaching, then.”

“Always,” said Inkwell, winking – how’d she manage that with one eye? – before taking a sip of her cup. “But something tells me you’re not here for me.”

“I suppose so,” said Velvet, lifting her cup. “Miss Sunny Skies, Professor. I followed her address here, but… well.”

She took one long sip. “Do you know her?”

“Of course I do,” said Inkwell, eye twinkling as she looked over to the bookshelves nearby. “Her works are lovely. But I know her better as a niece, and she’s been so kind to provide me with a place to stay, so close to the school.”

Inkwell shook her head, before turning to Velvet.

“Enough of that. So what brings you here, Miss Velvet? An offer, perhaps?”

Velvet could only wince at the question. “Yes, um , well– it’s best if I tell her myself. She’s in no trouble, that much I can assure you. Not when she’s been nothing but kind.”

“That she is, that she is,” agreed Inkwell. She looked towards the grandmother clock. “She speaks very fondly of her work, you know. It’s nice to see her colleagues returning the favour.”

“I try to be impartial,” Velvet said, and she knew she sounded rather unconvincing. “She’s never mentioned you.”

“Bah, ’tis of little concern to me,” said Inkwell, shaking her head. “Sunny’s never been the type to share much, as I’m sure you’ll have noticed. She’s got it in her head that she shouldn’t speak too much about whatever is bothering her. Oh, I wish she knew she’s not so alone…”

A pang of guilt went by Velvet’s heart. Friendly as Inkwell had been, the tiny voice in her head had started to whisper now that she’d been prying, interfering, and interloping in whatever private affairs Sunny Skies kept hidden.

If she’d hidden stories from her aunt, what right did Velvet have, in return…

Before Velvet could say more, there was a knock at the door.

“Ah, I’ll be back in a moment, deary,” said Inkwell, glancing at the grandmother clock. “Do make yourself at home, Miss Velvet.”

She was off, as Velvet’s words died in her throat. Now she was by her lonesome, in this abode she was very much feeling an intruder to.. Soon after, her eyes drifted, from the old bookshelves to the crystalline chandelier up above, to the grandmother clock whose hands moved to ten o’clock and chimed just then.

So odd, however. It struck Velvet that, although there were plenty of pictures of Inkwell lining up the shelves, changing through the years from the energetic, raven-haired mare she once was, all the way to the aged scholar she was now, there were very little of Sunny. A few here and there, no doubt about that, of Sunny by Inkwell’s side, Sunny asleep at the desk, Sunny reading to a group of children at what could only be Celestia’s School.

But there were no fillies here to be seen, none of a young Sunny Skies reading her first book, nor writing her first draft, none of Sunny with all her friends nor family.

Murmurs in the hall spilled over to the living room. Velvet’s eyes darted towards the doorway, in time to see Sunny Skies enter the room.

Velvet almost failed to recognise the mare she saw. Sunny Skies had never looked so haggard, with her cheery pink mane lacking the lustre it once held, her magenta eyes faded. And were those eyebags beneath her eyes, shadowed by the sun hat sitting gawkily upon her head?

“Miss Velvet?” said Sunny, after what must have been an eternity.

“Hello,” Velvet said, waving awkwardly. “I– this is a bit unexpected, isn’t it?”

Sunny nodded slowly. Beside her, Inkwell only smiled serenely.

“I should brew some more tea,” Inkwell said, glancing at her non-existent watch. “You must be exhausted, Sunny.”

She walked on further down the hall, humming all the way. That left Velvet alone with Sunny, and neither of them felt nor looked like they wanted to be there.

“I… right. I believe it is, um, quite-” Sunny stammered out. She walked on over, seating herself on the chair Inkwell had vacated. “Right. I’ll get on with it. I was… well…”

She reached into her saddlebags, withdrawing a neatly-bound book. Velvet raised an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t sure– well, I mean I was, but– alright, here you go, Miss Velvet,” said Sunny, placing the book upon the table and nudging it forward. “My latest work. As promised,” Sunny added, wincing. “As close as I’ve promised it.”

Donning her reliable reading glasses, Velvet reviewed the book presented before her. Upon the cover she saw the likeness of a pegasus mare, crowned with gold. Her coat was a rosebud pink, carrying herself with elegance and nobility.

The Tale of the Princess Sunrise Ladybug.

Very slowly she opened it, and began to read.

* * * * *

Once, there lived a Princess beloved by the realm.

She lived in an ivory tower, ruling over the realm with gentle guidance. Her name was Sunrise. But to her people she was also Ladybird. Or Ladybug, as the children liked to say. It was this last name which she retained, for the Princess knew how to take herself lightly. The people loved Princess Ladybug, and she loved them.

Her days were filled with cheer. She held feasts with earthpony and pegasus and unicorn alike. But so loved was she, that although she was kind, Ladybug grew proud, a little vain. After all, what misfortune could befall her land, under her watchful eye?

One day came a child, a young filly from a faraway village. She entered court, which was a simple task when Princess Ladybug kept her doors were open to all. However, to draw the eyes of the Princess was a harder feat. Princess Ladybug had many admirers.

“Yes, what is it, dear child?” Princess Ladybug said at last, when she noticed the filly. “What is your name and what brings you to my fine realm?”

“My name is Flake, Your Highness,” said the filly, bowing as deep as she could. “Tis my village, and we would like you to visit us, in celebration of a good harvest.”

The court laughed. They’d never heard such an audacious filly. But Ladybug loved her people. “Very well!” said she. “We shall set off at once!”

She placed Flake upon her back, and together they took to the skies…

* * * * *

“What do you think?” Sunny’s voice interrupted her reading.

“It looks quite good, so far,” said Velvet. “If a little rough. Nothing unmanageable, though. I’ll have to give it a proper look-over.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Sunny, what smile she wore crooked. “If you’ll excuse me, I should… I should probably– alright, I’m sorry it’s late. B-but I’ve worked hard on it. Have you gotten to the better parts yet? There’s this… this evil sorceress, and– well, Princess Ladybug’s got to learn a life lesson as well. It ends well, I promise you, just something a little uplifting–”

“Alright, alright,” said Velvet. “All in all, I have little issue with your work here. It certainly seems up to par with your usual output.”

“But?”

“There is no ‘but’ regarding the book,” said Velvet. “It looks fine to me, in all honesty.” She folded her glasses, setting them down with the book. She looked at Sunny, frowning. “I don’t quite understand, Miss Skies. Why in Equestria did you say you wouldn’t meet the deadline? And believe me, you’re very close to it.”

“I know I am.”

“Then please, enlighten me,” said Velvet. “You’ve never been one to be tardy about this. Two weeks, and…”

Her words trailed off when she caught sight of Sunny’s eyes, wide and wet with tears. Her lips quivered, even as she took several breaths.

“Forgive me,” Velvet said immediately. “Perhaps we could–”

“No, no it’s just–” Sunny said hurriedly, shaking her head. “It’s fine. It’s just…”

She looked away, sighing.

“I had a fight,” Sunny said, quieter than she’s ever been. “My daughter and I… these things happen, right? I tell myself it does, and she’s been having trouble as well–” Her smile was bitter, when she looked back at Velvet. “I don’t think she wants to talk to me again.”

Velvet’s heart sank. “... Miss Skies?”

“I’m sorry for dumping this on you,” Sunny continued. “It’s– it’s so stupid and– I wish I could take it all back. I just– she’s so clever and brilliant and maybe I should have seen more of that, maybe I should have understood her more… but I’m so tired, I try and I mess it all up.”

Her laugh was unconvincing.

“I’m not who you think I am, aren’t I?” Sunny said softly. “I’m only a screw-up.”

“With due respect,” Velvet interjected. “I’ve known you long enough to know you aren’t.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “Your sister, perhaps she could–”

Regret invaded Velvet then, for Sunny’s eyes only widened, her lips quivering. When she spoke, it was a deathly whisper.

“She’s gone, Miss Velvet. She’s been gone for years and…” Her tired gaze drifted towards the book Velvet had opened before her. “This is really all I have left of her. All of this, everything that I’ve built, everything I've written.”

Perhaps Velvet was only seeing things then, with all the air in the room sucked out of it. But it was so strange to her, for Sunny Skies, clouded and forlorn, looked so much older than she had any right to be.

“I’m sorry,” was all that she could say, at first. “I hadn’t known.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Sunny. “I’ll manage, as I always have. And, when I said that there’s more to the book–” she pointed towards it, across the table. “I meant it. I’m proud of Sunrise Ladybug. And I hope she’ll find her place in all your hearts.”

Velvet’s gaze panned down towards the book, her forehoof flipping the pages. She stopped at a full-page spread. The determined gaze of Princess Ladybug looked right back at her, her expression hardened and her stance firm, ready to face the evil sorceress who’d cast a dark spell over Flake’s village.

“You know,” said Sunny. “I just wish I was as brave as Princess Ladybug.”

“Look, I don’t know if I’ve got the right to say this to you,” Velvet remarked, looking up again. “And perhaps I don’t have the full picture. But I cannot imagine it being easy to raise a daughter by yourself. You’ve tried your best, and know that… that maybe your daughter needs time.”

“Time,” Sunny echoed, laughing softly. “Don’t we all need it.”

“Of course,” Velvet lamented, shaking her head. “No one should be alone.”

Before Sunny could answer, Velvet had already stood up, dusting herself off. She held the open book in her aura. “I’ll take it from here then. It’s clear to me that you need time for yourself.”

“O-oh,” said Sunny, looking unsure. “I’ve– I’m sorry it’s come so late–”

“Don’t be,” said Velvet, waving her off. “Whatever your troubles are with your daughter, I wish you both the very best. And you’re her mother, Miss Skies. You matter to her, don’t forget that.”

She glanced at the door, remembering the elderly mare who’d just left the two of them here by themselves.

“You have a good aunt, Sunny. Don’t forget that, either.”

For the first time since she’d walked into the living room, Sunny’s smile was sincere. “I shan’t. Thank you, Miss Velvet.”

“It’s no trouble,” said Velvet. “Give her my regards, but it looks like I’ve got a book to edit.” Giving Sunny a polite nod, she strolled on over to the door.

But a strange thought crossed her mind, as she read on with each step. Perhaps a little amusing, Velvet realised, that Sunrise Ladybug could so closely resemble that girl Cadance, who came over nowadays to mind Twilight when neither she nor the boys could do so.

Everyone in Canterlot could remember when Princess Mi Amore Cadenza had been revealed to the public, three years ago, during a grand announcement where all the Royal Family were gathered atop a balcony looking out onto the crowd. It would not surprise her if Sunny had found inspiration in that somewhere.

If it had seemed stranger still, initially, that Cadance was attending a regular school, which so happened to be the one Shining Armor also went to, Velvet had grown used to it in time, much like the initial marvel of a new Alicorn Princess had receded amongst the minds of the citizenry. As far as she was concerned, Cadance was just a nice girl who helped take care of her daughter.

She wondered if Sunny Skies had such simple yet precious support with her own family.

‘Find her place in all your hearts…’ Velvet paused at the door.

“Oh, and Miss Skies?”

Sunny looked at her, head tilted. “Yes?”

Velvet smiled, horn glowing, closing the book. “I think you’ve got this.”

IV ~ The Princess

IV
The Princess

The house is the size of the world. Or rather it is the world. And the Sun, and Moon.

– From The Great Hall of Asterion

* * * * *

All things considered, Velvet thought, being a houseplant felt nicer than she’d have imagined.

There was a sentence one didn’t hear every day, not even in Equestria. Only blissful silence had reigned and the feeling of a cool breeze ’round her leaves. Or perhaps was all in her mind comforting her now, some time after the fact, when it had been so sudden mere hours ago. Not that she had much to work with as a houseplant, thinking-wise.

Who knew hatching a dragon egg could be so… chaotic? And it had only been Twilight’s entrance exam to Celestia’s School!

But all was brushed aside in the euphoria that followed, once the dust settled and the first words that she heard were of Princess Celestia offering her daughter a place by her side, as her own personal student.

Now Velvet sat there with a calming brew before her, alone in the school cafeteria, waiting for the hours to go by for Twilight’s first day. The cafeteria was old, she could tell, just like the school with its cavernous ceiling dwarfing her figure. Though she could just hear the faint, ambient sounds of the school, from idle chatter between faculty members and the laughter of children, there remained that odd feeling of loneliness that had trailed her since Night Light, little Twilight Sparkle and she had set out from their home. Perhaps she ought to have come with Night Light on the tour, but the halls of the school were all too familiar to her already.

“Is this seat taken?” spoke a gentle voice, interrupting her thoughts.

“Go ahead, I’m still–” Velvet replied. Her voice was cut-off, though, when she looked up and met the warm gaze of Princess Celestia.

Celestia, Princess of All Equestria, was speaking to her. She remained quiet, numbly, her mouth hanging open, even as the Princess inclined her head, still wearing that tranquil smile of hers. Her great wings were held against her body, her alabaster coat shone in the light of her Sun that streamed into the cafeteria, and her ethereal mane of blue, green and pink continued to flow in the absence of wind.

“Much appreciated,” said the Princess, seating herself with elegance, surprisingly nimble for a mare as tall and grand as she. “I trust you’re doing well, Miss Velvet?”

“Y-yeah, I am,” Velvet said, clearing her throat. “Pardon me, Your Highness, um– all of this is very new to me. Very different from my son’s first day at school.”

Suddenly she felt awfully self-conscious She hadn’t even brought her dress or bowtie today.

Yet if the Princess took issue, none of that showed. She let out a melodious, charming laugh. “Oh, trust me, I believe you,” she said, sighing. “Three years since I’ve had a personal student and my, I haven’t seen any little filly as… driven as Twilight is.”

“Really?”

“Really,” said the Princess, shrugging. “She can tell you all about it yourself, but let me tell you, it’s not every day you have anyone so proudly, confidently tell you you’ve got a detail wrong in your own history book.”

Velvet felt her cheeks pale. “O-oh, uh…”

“It’s no issue,” the Princess said again. “Quite enthusiastic, and she was correct. I really do need to proofread better these days– Orion’s horn, not his belt.”

Velvet shot her a sympathetic glance. “When she gets going, she gets going,” she stated plainly. “It’s only her first day, at that.”

“The first of many to come, I do believe,” said the Princess. “You’ve got a marvellous daughter. I look forward to seeing her grow.”

“She won’t disappoint, Highness,” Velvet said, nodding. “She looked so happy when we showed her she’d been accepted.”

“Oh, do tell,” replied the Princess, resting her chin on her hooves.

“Well, ever since she’d seen her first Summer Sun Celebration,” Velvet began, “Twilight’s always looked forward to attending. So, my husband and I, we figured it’d be a nice surprise one weekend, after she’d spent so long studying.”

“Studying?”

“Mhm. She’d studied long, long before she even knew we applied her there,” said Velvet. “Oh, you should have seen her then. She was just jumping and skipping and cheering all over the place. It was like…”

Her voice trailed off. Her heart skipped a beat. How stupid of her to realise it now, to only think of it now so clearly. How happy Twilight had been when she’d been accepted, when she arrived at the School for Gifted Unicorns, when the Princess of the Sun extended the offer to be her personal student…

“Miss Velvet?”

“It was like she was finally happy,” Velvet said quietly. “Like… like she was so happy to be away.”

“Maybe we could–”

“It’s– well–” Velvet continued, feeling her eyes well-up with tears. “It feels like I’m slipping away, that it’s all gone too soon. Like I’ve done so much with her and yet it’s just–you’re you. You’re Celestia, the Princess that- that everyone looks up to. And I… I’m just so worried, too, that she’ll be so wrapped up in everything, that she’ll forget to have friends and–”

She wiped away at her muzzle.

“I’m sorry,” said Velvet, sniffling. “I probably shouldn’t– goodness gracious, we haven’t done the whole… parent-teacher meeting bit.”

“Actually, we just did.”

“What?”

“Oh, I didn’t want you to spend any longer than you should have,” said the Princess. “Hoovesbury Publishing, wasn’t it? Quite the busy days there, I imagine.”

“True, but–” Velvet said hurriedly. “I–I must have made a fool out of myself. I should–”

“Nonsense,” said the Princess. “What I see is a loving, responsible mother who cares a great deal for her daughter. That alone is enough, Miss Velvet. Twilight will have her own adventures and trials to face, but she’ll come to you when she needs you.”

“I hope so,” Velvet admitted. “It’s just– I don’t know, it’s all going so fast that I just…”

She felt a large, warm wing wrap over her.

“... You wish they’d slow down a little?” said the Princess.

Velvet blinked away tears, looking up towards the Princess. She looked so gentle, and kind.

“Y-yes,” Velvet said. “How–”

“Someone once told me that,” the Princess continued, solemnly. “You are her mother. You wouldn’t have missed anything for your daughter, not even the world. And she knows this. Don’t forget that.”

Perhaps her eyes had tricked her, Velvet thought, her mind and thoughts a fuzzy, emotional mess right then. For it couldn’t have been true, couldn’t have been possible. Yet as she looked at Princess Celestia’s comforting gaze, she saw the bright, cheery author who’d walked into her office so many years ago.

The bell rang. The clock had struck twelve.

“I– we should go,” said Velvet. “I need to pick her up, Your Highness. And… and thank you.”

“Like I’ve said,” the Princess said, inclining her head. “It’s no trouble. I suspect we have much to talk about soon. And don’t worry, Twilight will be amongst her peers.” She offered a warm smile. “She’ll be among friends, I’m sure.”

The Princess rose from her seat, motioning at Velvet with her magnificent wing.

“Come along,” she said. “Twilight awaits.”

Velvet didn’t move, at first. She kept thinking of it, when their eyes had met. That perhaps the Princess of All Equestria had come to her so many years ago, a hopeful author whose writings spoke of sunny days and calming nights of faraway lands, her deepest, truest self shown to her with each stroke of her quill and brush, all the books she’d loved to write and paint.

But who was she to pull the curtain away, when Sunny Skies had trusted her, when she’d so diligently, so joyfully kept her mask up for so very long…

Velvet looked at the Princess, smiling slightly.

“It’s nothing, Your Highness,” she said. “Lead the way.”

Epilogue

“Will you come in?”

– From The Great Hall of Asterion

* * * * *

“Mom! Dad!”

The loud, shrill voice of Twilight Sparkle was heard even over the buzz of the other children and parents gathered at the school entrance. Velvet only saw the briefest purple blur amidst the crowd before she felt something impact her chest.

“Oof– okay, alright, alright” she said, falling on her haunches. Besides her, Night Light had burst out laughing. “It’s nice to see you too, Twilight. How was your day?”

Twilight, still hugging her tightly, let out a giggle. “It was really fun! Miss Inkwell showed us around and um, um, I really like the library! And– and Moondancer showed me a book! It was a really nice book. Oh, and I met Moondancer, she’s really nice!”

Velvet and Night Light looked at one another, sharing a smile.

“Sounds fun, kiddo,” said Night Light, pulling up Velvet. “Hey, let’s have ourselves some fries today, how about that? Then you can tell us all about your day!”

Twilight’s squeal was almost deafening. “Okay Dad!” she said. “Oh, oh, then there’s show and tell tomorrow and… and…”

She turned to Velvet, eyes wide and pleading.

“Mom, can I show your new book? I promise I’ll take care of it, I promise!”

"Sorry, Twily, but no,” said Velvet, shaking her head. “It’s not ready yet. Besides, it’s not really my book, you know. I just help them get ready.”

Twilight tilted her head. “But what makes a book ready?”

“When you've put so much of your heart into it, then you’ll know it can stand on its own.”

“See, sounds a lot like your book then. But books don't stand, Mom. They don't have hooves.”

"Oh, Twilight,” said Velvet, giving her daughter’s mane a quick tussle. “You're my little book."

“Mooom,” Twilight replied, huffing, pushing her hoof away. “I can stand on my own!”

“Then maybe someday you'll fly,” Velvet said, shrugging. “Tell you what, hon. You can show them my quill. Maybe one of the old drafts, too.”

“Yay!” Twilight replied, hopping and skipping in joy. “Did you hear that Dad? Mom said yes! Can you show me your books, too?”

“Well…” Night Light began, rubbing the back of his head. But Velvet hadn’t heard the rest of it, for her eyes had turned to the alicorn that stood at the school gates, above all others.

She’d been watching them, Velvet could tell, her ever-tranquil gaze fixed upon them. The Princess said nothing then, only directing the faintest of smiles towards her. But she did not have to say anything. Perhaps another book was coming, and perhaps there would be a knock at her office door some time in the coming days.

“Hey, Velv, you coming?” Night Light called out then. “Don’t let Twi’ hog all the fries!”

“I’m not gonna eat all of them!”

“Coming, coming,” Velvet answered, turning away from Celestia. “So, Twilight, what was that about Moondancer’s book?”

“Oh! She was really happy about it, and she wanted to show me, so she did, and it was about this Princess…”

As Twilight’s story went on, of princesses and sorceresses and faraway villages, together they walked home under the afternoon Sun.

Author's Note

While there's an obvious connection to make between Twilight Velvet and Princess Celestia, I've noticed that very few are focused on just the two of them. And yes, I've cleared it with The Red Parade, it's eligible!

Dedicated to my good friend and trusty co-writer/editor for Spectrum and beyond, VoxAdam, who also added the lovely excerpts to Sunny Skies' first published book. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your companionship and help through thick and thin, my friend :twilightsmile: Thank you.

For Grace, who came in with crucial advice at a critical time in my life. I owe you still.

Finally, to PhantomFox's iconic work, Sunny Skies All Day Long, which helped inspire Vox and I in characterising our version of Celestia. Go check it out, it's simply phenomenal.

~ Sledge