Where the Lovelight Gleams
Hearth’s Warming is a concept that transcended time and space, as Sunset Shimmer discovered some years ago.
The story of Hearth’s Warming, however, did not seem to be quite so dimensionally universal.
Trying to piece together a true meaning of Hearth’s Warming in her adoptive world was a fool’s errand, Sunset had long since decided. There was simply too much conflicting information and disorganization to piece together a unified, singular celebration of one specific thing. The changing of seasons, religious holy days, consumerism in its most base form, and more all waved the holiday as a banner for themselves, regardless of any and all incompatibilities with each other. Perhaps the most consistent aspect was what elements were not part of the Hearth’s Warming story – no founding of a nation and no windigos.
Well, second-most consistent. Because there was one unifying figure Sunset had learned that tied much of this world’s Hearth’s Warming together.
And that figure was sitting on a plush red chair at the back of a utility trailer in a mall parking lot, surrounded by all sorts of decorated fake greenery, with two costumed men bringing small children up the ramp to sit in her lap.
Sunset had just shut the passenger seat door of Twilight’s sedan when she laid eyes upon the sight. After a moment, she heard the thud of the driver’s side door, and then a brief, deafening silence that her girlfriend mercifully broke.
“Is that…”
“I’ll let you say it.”
“Is that Holly Jolly asking kids what they want for Hearth’s Warming on a craptacular-looking set attached to a pickup truck?” Twilight asked.
Sunset exhaled. “Thank you. Thank you so much for saying that the way you said that because I was utterly terrified that I was going to be the only person who found that weird.”
“No, it’s… it’s definitely weird.”
With no wish to continue staring, they both stepped forward out of their parking spot and began walking quickly toward the mall entrance, away from the possibly-concerning holiday spectacle.
Though Sunset noticed Twilight peeking back a few times along the way.
They reached the entrance, where they were immediately greeted by towering, elaborate fake greenery – even though they had entered on the second floor, the trees of various shades that were set up below stretched up to eye level. Wading through the moving crowd up until they reached the railing, their eyes drew down to the first floor, where the two beheld–
“Another Holly Jolly?” Sunset asked, immediately glancing over in Twilight’s direction. “I feel like kids are probably gonna catch on that there isn’t just one of her.” She peered down again. “Especially when they don’t even really look alike. This one’s got way better-quality red pajamas than our friend back in the lot.”
Twilight shrugged. “My parents went with the classic explanation. All of the Holly Jollys you meet in the mall or anywhere else are the real Holly Jolly’s helpers who magically relay all the information they receive to her.”
Sunset hadn’t heard that one before. “Seriously? But then why would they dress up and pretend to be her?”
“Most kids who start making that connection are in the space where you might have deductive reasoning skills, but you also really want to be seen as older and smarter than other kids. Telling them that they’re actually helpers but that other kids don’t know that is a great way to make them feel like they figured out something special, without actually breaking the secret.”
Stepping to her right, Sunset closed the small distance between herself and Twilight. “Speaking from experience?” she asked with a giggle.
Beside her, Twilight shook her head. “Didn’t work on me. Once I could start thinking critically about how the world works in general, it all fell apart instantly.”
“Knowing you, that was probably age 1 and a half, or something.”
That got an adorable little pfft out of Twilight, which made Sunset’s heart sing. “Flattering, but no. But pretty early. And when my parents realized I’d figured out there was no Holly Jolly, I basically got sworn to secrecy so that I wouldn’t tell Shining.”
Sunset laughed. “Seven years older than you and he still believed in Holly Jolly. Somehow for Shining that makes perfect sense. I’m sure he’ll pass it on to Flurry.” She stopped for just a moment, to better listen to another of Twilight’s little laughs. “Did you ever break the oath?”
“Heh, I probably would’ve if one of his classmates didn’t do it for me that same week.”
“Damn. I was half-hoping you’d tell me he still believed.” Sunset stepped away from the railing. “So where’d you wanna go fir–”
“It’s a great exercise in critical thinking, for kids,” Twilight mused, apparently too absorbed in the thought to notice Sunset. “Teach them something that isn’t just wrong, but knowingly implausible, and let them do the hard work of figuring it out that it doesn’t fit with everything else they’re learning about the world. A little first step toward adulthood.”
Sunset, now looking at Twilight’s backside, pondered. “Is that why no one’s really ever mad at their parents for, well, lying about Holly Jolly?”
At that, Twilight finally seemed to notice where Sunset had stepped to, and turned about to face her, adjusting her glasses. “More or less. It’s a lie you can be nostalgic about.”
“Are you?”
Twilight blinked. “Am I what?”
“Oh, um, nostalgic. I mean it sounded like you didn’t really get to believe in Holly Jolly very long at all before cluing in. And I guess–”
Sunset stopped herself, realizing she was on the precipice of a question that might be far more than Twilight was willing to answer in the middle of a busy mall, if at all.
But from Twilight’s reaction, it seemed almost as though she’d figured it out anyway. “I don’t know about nostalgic, I mean I think the only time I ever even sat on Holly Jolly’s lap was when I still had a pacifier, and I don’t really know how much I’d really enjoy something like that, I mean kids– kids are dumb.” She turned and pointed down toward Holly Jolly, who had just been handed a toddler who was beginning to wail. “Imagine being told you’re about to meet one of the most benevolent, kind, and empathetic beings in all folklore, who basically grants wishes, and all you do is scream and cry because that’s not a lap you’re used to sitting on? Being young enough to believe in Holly Jolly is being too young to understand why someone like that would even be special.”
The screaming from below began to echo through the mall, and Twilight, ever-sensitive to such things, plugged her ears and moved away toward the food court.
“Let’s just get something to eat,” she said over the cacophony.
Nodding and processing, Sunset followed.
“Pinkie? It’s Sunset. I need a favor.”
“Okie dokie lokie! What is it?”
“I’m calling because… I want to borrow an outfit, if you have it.”
“That’s usually more Rarity’s kinda thing, isn’t it?”
“This feels more like a you kinda thing, actually.”
The suit itched. It itched like crazy. Somehow, Sunset knew she was going to end up with a few rashes.
But she’d been on short notice. Hearth’s Warming was days away, and this was what Pinkie had been able to scrounge up quickly when such outfits were in high demand. So Sunset knew she’d power through it.
Or, at least, she thought she would. Twilight’s blank stare was giving her second thoughts.
“You’re dressed up as Holly Jolly?”
Sunset was sitting at the edge of their shared bed, which she’d hastily made up to at least somewhat fit the seasonal mood – red sheets and green bedspread, pillows arranged to simulate a seat behind her. She herself now wore the classic burgundy-red ensemble with white trim, though she’d eschewed the half-moon glasses and crown of holly. She wore her hood up and had added a significant amount of blush to her cheeks, in order to nail down the rosy look. Most distinctive of all, at least she’d felt when looking in the mirror earlier, was the white wig Pinkie had given her, which was proving somewhat difficult to keep out of her face.
Twilight was standing right in front of her, and it was clear from her reaction that this had indeed been a surprise. Sunset wasn’t entirely certain if that was as much of a positive as she’d hoped. It was moments like these she regretted keeping her geode locked in a safe.
“Um… ho ho ho, yes I did!”
The clumsy attempt at mirth was unsuccessful at changing Twilight’s expression. “Why?”
“I-” Sunset stammered, trying to pull herself together, pushing more fake hair out of her face. It was entirely too easy for the thought of even slight disappointment from Twilight to entirely unnerve her. “I was just thinking about something you said earlier. At the mall.”
Twilight frowned, and Sunset valiantly fought off what would have been an extremely visible cringe and a suddenly overwhelming wish that she could’ve gotten Pinkie to do this part too. “You mean when we saw those Holly Jollys?” Twilight asked.
“Y-yeah. And how you said you weren’t sure if you could’ve ever really appreciated the experience of meeting Holly Jolly enough to be nostalgic about it. I… it was maybe kinda impulsive… and probably stupid…”
At that, Twilight’s gaze softened. “Sunset, I– I’m not mad or anything, I’m just curious. I don’t think I quite get what you’re going for, here.”
Sunset nodded. “I guess I thought that you seemed kinda wistful, and maybe I could try and give you something you never got to really experience.”
For a moment, Twilight stood quietly, apparently pondering. Then she stepped over to the bed, leaning down toward Sunset and patting the back of her hood. Sunset’s heart leapt as she looked towards her partner. Was she making progress?
The brief hope was dashed by Twilight’s eyes shifting away as she spoke once more, in an apprehensive tone.
“It’s a nice thought. I just don’t really see how it would work when I know Holly Jolly isn’t real, I know you’re not her helper, and I know it’s just you trying to do something nice for me.”
“W-well,” Sunset said, thinking quickly, “don’t think of it like that. I mean, think about the world we live in now, with magic and powers and whole universes beyond… imagine being able to make the simplest wish, for something you want deeply, or even not deeply, just something that right now you know you want, and know that something out there is listening.”
Twilight looked back at her, smiling just a bit as they made eye contact.
Sunset wasn’t sure if it was earnest or pity.
“You know,” Twilight said with a little giggle, “I don’t remember Holly Jolly ever saying that in a Hearth’s Warming Special.”
Feeling her cheeks heat up, Sunset mustered up another awkward “ho ho ho?”
That got a snort out of Twilight, who needed to rearrange her glasses after the laugh dislodged them. “Alright, you’ve convinced me. Let’s give it a try.”
There was barely enough time for Sunset to process what her girlfriend had just said before she found herself having to back up, making room so Twilight could set herself down on the bed, now perpendicular with her. Twilight didn’t take the idea of sitting on Sunset’s lap literally, it seemed, which Sunset was admittedly kinda grateful for at the moment. Instead she sat on top of one of the arranged pillows, and draped her legs over Sunset’s own.
“Just to be clear,” she asked, “this isn’t some kind of erotic roleplay, right? It seemed like you were a little confused about how to introduce this setup, so if this is a kink, you should let me know now so–”
“No!” Sunset cried, secure in the knowledge that her face must have been absolutely crimson at that moment behind the white hair she was furiously brushing away from her eyes. “No, I meant what I said, I– Twi, I wouldn’t just spring something like that on you.”
“Alright, then,” Twilight replied with a nod.
Truth be told, Sunset wasn’t entirely sure where this was going anymore. At the outset, the whole thing had been meant as a roleplay of sorts – not erotic, but one where Sunset could once more be Twilight’s guide, her shepherd toward a better level of understanding and comfort with herself, as she had been so many times before. The filter of holiday cheer, and the chance to connect to a lost opportunity of childhood, had seemed like such a perfect opportunity. But instead, Sunset was in the middle of a vicious reminder of just how awkward she herself was, flailing and floundering in the face of Twilight’s confusion and finding that somehow, Twilight had managed to essentially take charge of Sunset’s own flubbed setup.
This reminder was only exacerbated when she realized Twilight was still staring at her, patiently, waiting for her to begin.
Clearing her throat, Sunset put on her Holliest Jolliest voice, with as much earnest effort as she could muster in the moment. “And what’s your name, my dear little lady?”
Twilight smirked. “I’m Twilight Sparkle. It’s nice to meet you, Holly Jolly.”
Sunset was beginning to realize that in her haste, she hadn’t quite done the research on the standard Mall Holly Jolly routine, trusting herself to wing it from osmosis-derived memories. “I, um… I hope you’ve been a good girl this year, Miss Sparkle. Have you?”
Sunset mentally facepalmed as Twilight looked quizzically at her, realizing she wasn’t beating the kink allegations with that line. Twilight seemed to move past it, however, and instead answered the question at face value. “I’d like to think so, Mrs. Jolly. Of course, good is a tough thing to define, and everyone approaches it with a biased perspective, but-”
“Splendid!” Sunset interrupted, knowing that could go on forever if she let it. “And since that means Holly Jolly will not be leaving any burnt durian fruit in your stocking this year–” Did Holly Jolly refer to herself in the third person? Sunset couldn’t remember. Stupid stupid “–what would you like for Hearth’s Warming this year?”
At that, Twilight went quiet, but that, at least, Sunset had expected. Considering how hard it was to wring a clean answer out of Twilight regarding any potential gifts she might want, Sunset could have just as easily devised this as a plain old ploy to get her to actually tell her. (Though she’d already circumvented this a few weeks earlier by getting in touch with Twilight Velvet – the answer involved a whole lot of spare parts for lab equipment.)
Had Sunset actually planned it that way, though, it would have been wildly unsuccessful, as Sunset quickly gleaned from just the first few words of Twilight’s response as she finally gave it.
“I, um, think I need to make a request that isn’t exactly a present, in a traditional sense. I mean, there’s a lot I guess I could ask for, but… I’m trying to think of this like how y– how a friend told me to think about this. That this is a wish, even if it’s not one I think anyone can grant. And I have one, but it… I don’t know if I should say it.”
Sunset’s eyes widened, just for a moment before she got them under control. But that was an admittedly rather nerve-wracking sentence. Still, if it was something Twilight needed to say…
“You can tell Holly Jolly, Miss Sparkle.”
Twilight inhaled, then slowly exhaled. “It’s not that I regret anything about my life that I’ve changed since the day I met my best friends. Because objectively, I know everything is better. I wouldn’t trade it, even for what I’m about to ask for. But it wasn’t just my world that changed that day, it was the world. The whole world. And I have to be really careful how I say this because I know my girlfriend would blame herself for it when she shouldn’t–” Sunset got the message implied by the emphasis loud and clear “–but I just feel like when I first encountered magic, truly encountered it, I… lost what chance I have of ever feeling like I understand. That I live in a world that makes sense.”
There was a pause, as Twilight looked away to consider a thought. Sunset felt a physical craving to speak, to react, but she held herself back.
“It’s almost enough, considering everything else I’ve learned in all this time, to make me believe you could be real. Maybe there’s a universe where you are. If my old principal can be a sun goddess somewhere, maybe you can be more than some commercialized mascot fairy tale figure. So if you are listening somewhere… I don’t know. Maybe I want a day of blissful ignorance, or something. Just that sense of ‘I understand how things are.’ I kinda miss it.”
The words sank in, echoing throughout Sunset’s mind. She watched Twilight’s forlorn face contort into astonishment, as though even she hadn’t realized what she was going to say.
Sunset pulled down the hood, and the wig was carried along with it, flopping down onto the bed. Paying it no mind, she pulled her legs out from under Twilight and crawled toward her, shoving the pillows out of the way before giving her a deep hug.
Twilight reciprocated immediately.
For a time, all was quiet.
After some time, Sunset found the words. “We never really got to be kids, did we?”
“I-I don’t think… I mean–”
“We both grew up training ourselves to know everything about the world. And then the universe pulled the world out from under us.”
“And we just have to wonder–”
“–why we even bothered trying,” they said simultaneously.
The hug broke, and the two of them pulled back to look each other in the eyes once more. Twilight wasn’t crying. Sunset didn’t think she herself was, either. But Twilight looked like Sunset felt. Tired.
“This wasn’t really what you planned, was it?” Twilight asked.
“No, but I honestly kinda lost track of what I planned as soon as you walked in the door.”
Twilight snickered weakly. “Kinda fitting, isn’t it?”
“Heh,” Sunset chuckled in return. “Yeah, it… that’s life, I guess.”
Twilight leaned to her left, so far that her head was touching the bed at an angle. “We turned each other’s lives upside down, get it?”
The chuckle turned to a snort. “Damn it, Twi…”
Unable to hold her position, Twilight flopped onto her stomach. She laughed into the covers.
“You’re ridiculous,” Sunset said as she crawled up beside her.
“I’m ridiculous? You’re the one dressed as Holly Jolly,” Twilight replied without raising her head.
Sunset fiddled with Twilight’s upward-facing ponytail. “Never said I wasn’t. And I couldn’t even do it right. I know Holly Jolly scares kids sometimes, but I don’t think she’s supposed to give them existential crises.”
That got Twilight’s head to lift, and she rolled over onto her side to face Sunset. “Not true, actually. That’s exactly the point of her. First you’re told she’s real. Then you realize it doesn’t make sense for her to be real. And then…”
Twilight paused expectantly. Sunset shrugged, not sure where she was going with this.
“...and then you realize the world would probably make more sense if she was real.”
The thought hung over them both. Sunset wasn’t sure what to make of it, until she caught a glimpse of her robed arm. She stretched out both arms and got up on her knees, showing off the whole outfit.
“Well, I’m real.”
“And the world makes more sense because you are.”
Gradually, Twilight got to her knees as well, making her way forward to meet Sunset near the edge of the bed. They wrapped their arms around each other and locked lips, regardless of the lack of any greenery above their heads.
The only sounds around them were the creaking of the bed underneath their weight and the hushed noises of their own breathing. It was a blessed silence.
As the next several minutes passed, only two sentences were deemed worthy of breaking that silence.
“Happy Hearth’s Warming, Sunset Shimmer.”
“Happy Hearth’s Warming, Twilight Sparkle.”
And with that shared sentiment, Holly Jolly tied the holiday together.
