The Party Will Still Be There

Out of their many aunts, Cheesecake has always liked Twilight Sparkle the least.

Well, no, that's not quite the right way to put it, because it would imply that Cheesecake dislikes Auntie Twilight. They do like her - love her, even, the same way they love the rest of their very extensive extended family. It's just that...

Well...

She's always acted a bit off around them; like she's never seen them for them, exactly.

"Thanks again, Auntie Twilight," Cheesecake says, absently prodding at the Hearth's Warming dolls of themself and their mom and Auntie Twilight and Uncle Spike, sat in their limp, haphazard way above the fireplace,"I really do appreciate you doing this for mom. I know she does, too."

"Of course, Cheesecake," The Princess of Friendship smiles beatifically at her oldest and closest friend's child. It doesn't quite reach her eyes when she says, "I completely understand why she wouldn't want to be alone in Sugarcube Corner right now."

"Well, still, I'm grateful," the smile Cheesecake gives in return is a wan little thing, lips tight and thin, and yet their eyes sparkle with real affection.

Despite their misgivings.

Silently they turn their gaze back on the rest of the room; the banquet hall of Twilight's castle, half-bedecked in tinsel and trinkets hanging down from rafters and high, thin ledges or sitting across the high-up tops of windows. Boxes of yet more festive accoutrement sit scattered about the room, plain cardboard a sharp contrast to the bright reds and greens and golds and silvers - all very standard, of course, but, well, a Princess of Equestria hardly has the luxury to go wild with her choice in holiday party decoration. Twilight and Cheesecake set to hanging what has yet to be hung, preparing the space for the upcoming festivities with a precise efficiency that can only be achieved by a life-long organizer and the child of two of history's greatest party planners.

They hardly have to communicate, in sync despite the rarity of such collaborations between the two, but eventually Cheesecake says:

"You know, I'm honestly surprised she didn't want to take a break from the place sooner. I mean, six moons..."

"Everypony processes grief differently," Twilight Sparkle slips slightly into a didactic tone despite herself, "delayed reactions like this aren't all that uncommon: a pony might feel intensely sad immediately following the loss of a loved one but seem to get over it fairly quickly, going through business as usual for a while like everything's fine, and then..."

"...It just hits you all over again," Cheesecake finishes the thought with a knowing nod.

"Sometimes relapses into grief like this can happen years after a loss. This is the first time Pinkie has spent a Hearth's Warming without-" Twilight hesitates briefly, so briefly, hardly noticeable even as the slightest hitch in her voice, and recovers so quickly her next choice of words seems utterly natural, "-your father in... well, decades."

"Gonna be a looooong way from the last," Cheesecake remarks sardonically.

"She'll be fine," she replies, and the smile that crosses her face this time is real, soft and warm from a lifetime of affection sitting between her lips, "Your mom is a lot tougher than most creatures give her credit for."

"Don't have to tell me. I remember when you fought off Sombra's shade that time, just the two of you. I took being grounded way more seriously for MONTHS after that - the best behaved little foal in Ponyville."

"A shame it didn't last," Twilight Sparkle teases, and for a rare moment Cheesecake actually feels a real connection to their aunt, "It was, what, a month and a half later that you and Rainbow Dash burned down that banana stand?"

"It was mostly Aunt Dash..." they grumble through their teeth, but the way their cheeks pull up with the corners of their mouth betrays the attempted affect of agitation.

"And I seem to recall her getting quite the scolding too," Twilight says, and they both laugh.

They lapse back into silent cooperation until Cheesecake speaks up again.

"You know," they speak slowly, haltingly, as if still weighing each word on their tongue before allowing it to fall past their lips, "It's weird... knowing for a certainty mom's gonna outlive me. Like, I know we've known for years about your shared immortality but I guess it never fully hit me while dad was still here. Easier to ignore, I guess."

Twilight makes a non-committal noise of acknowledgement.

"I mean, I guess that's not really something you have to think about, is it? At least not in that direction."

"Oh, I've thought about it quite a bit," she replies with a light and casual tone, then adds somewhat absentmindedly, "Especially where your parents are concerned."

Cheesecake's face screws up in confusion, "...Huh?"

Twilight continues to decorate, not immediately aware of the pause her remark has given.

"...Auntie Twilight? What's that supposed to mean?" Cheesecake presses.

"Hm? What's what supposed to mean?"

"You said you'd given a lot of thought to my mom and dad's... lifespans?"

"Did I?" The Princess asks. She makes a show of closing her eyes, bringing a hoof to her forehead in consternation, before her face falls into a familiar mask of calm neutrality, "I'm sorry, I must be more tired than I thought - things always get so busy up in the capital just before the holiday adjournment. I just meant - well, I'm still getting used to the immortality thing myself. When my own parents passed is about when it started to sink in for me too, and they were both over a decade ago. That's quite a bit of time to start looking at the other ponies in my life in a new light."

"Right... right, yeah, that makes sense," Cheesecake shakes their head as though clearing it, lets the matter drop - but as the two get back to work, they keep sneaking glances at their aunt's face, set into that impenetrably regal expression they've long since given up trying to decipher anything through.