//------------------------------// // Nopony's Perfect // Story: Tales From the Phoenix Empire // by Chengar Qordath //------------------------------// It all started with a simple, spur-of-the-moment idea. It had been a week since the Empress briefed us on Nightmare Moon’s return and the Elements of Harmony. It was still a bit hard to believe. I was leading an elite team hoof-picked by the Empress to confront the insane sister of Old Queen Celestia, with the fate of the entire Empire at stake. I’d always believed the Empress was preparing me for a great destiny, but I’d never imagined it would be something like this. Unfortunately, my first try at figuring out the Elements hadn’t borne any fruit. Twilight and I had tried channeling our magic into the stones to activate them, but all that got us both was a nasty shock and a worse headache. Plus the Empress had said it would take all six of us to unlock the Elements, which almost certainly meant that I couldn’t just do everything with Twilight while the other four members of the team sat back and watched. That was when I’d hit on a random, but plausible, idea. I was supposed to unlock the Element of Magic. Rarity, the only other unicorn in our group, was not a particularly good spellcaster compared to myself and Twilight. She was probably a bit above average for a normal civilian unicorn, but Twilight and I were both qualified warmages trained by the Empress herself. Teaching somepony magic seemed like as good a way as any to activate the Element of Magic. Plus, it was worth doing anyway. One of the few intelligent things Rainbow Dash had said was when she pointed out that Rarity was the only member of our team who didn’t have combat training. Well, she did say she’d taken a few self-defense classes, but that was a long way from what Twilight and I could do. Teaching her some proper combat magic was smart, considering what we were up against. Unfortunately, teaching was one of those things that sounded nice and simple in theory, but was a lot harder to pull off in practice. Which was how Rarity and I wound up in my old training room, with me clenching my teeth and trying very hard not to start shouting at her. “You're still not hitting the targets,” I managed to growl out, almost sounding civil about it. The schoolteacher huffed and glowered at me. “Well honestly, Sunset, how am I supposed to hit those targets when they’re small, on the other end of the room, and you keep moving them around?” “It’s supposed to be hard!” I snapped at her. “If you could do it without any effort, we wouldn’t be here.” I paused, took a deep breath, and tried to get my temper back under control. Mostly by thinking about how Twilight would’ve been giving me that faintly disappointed frown she broke out whenever I snapped at somepony. I really wished she was here—much as I hated to admit it, she was a lot better at teaching than I was. She just had the right sort of personality for it. Unfortunately, my girlfriend was visiting her brother and his fiancee, all the way up in Northmarch. Which ... well I was happy for her, but also sad that she was gone. A part of me wished I’d gone with her, but working on the Elements took priority. I’d have plenty of time to visit friends and family after I’d finished saving the Empire from eternal night. I shifted tactics and tried to say something nicer, like Twilight would do. “You're ... um ... improving quickly, but we need to keep pushing the limits so you’ll keep getting better.” That seemed to work, since her shoulders untensed. “I'm aware of that, darling. But I'm not like you—I can’t fire off several dozen magical blasts without wearing myself out, especially when you want each attack to be at long range against a moving target. Perhaps you don’t realize how much harder it is for me to keep the beam coherent at that range?” She was right, of course. One thing Twilight and I had both learned very quickly while working with Rarity was that she just didn’t have a special talent for spellcasting. Twilight said that between the Imperial Magus Academy, our families, and being taught by the Empress, we had a slightly skewed idea of what a unicorn could ‘normally’ do with their magic. Rarity might be above average in skill and potential, but compared to the sorts of company we normally kept... Teaching Rarity was ... frustrating. I kept needing to go back and explain things that seemed incredibly obvious to me. Sometimes I even needed to explain something more than once before she actually understood it. Maddening. “Er, look, Rarity, I...” I struggled to come up with a way to explain the problem that wasn’t some variant on ‘you’re stupider and less talented than me.’ I have been trying to work on the whole diplomacy thing. “Look, I’m an Alpha, my parents were Alphas, I was trained by the Empress, Twilight’s an Alpha...” Well, technically an Alpha-plus. The schoolteacher grimaced. “Whereas I am merely a Gamma.” “Right.” I was glad she’d volunteered that information on her own. It’s a bit rude to ask another unicorn what their magical ranking is. I’d pretty firmly pegged her as a Gamma already, but it was always nice to get a little confirmation. “Anyway, my point was ... well, I’m kinda used to things working a bit differently.” “I'm aware of how unicorn power rankings work.” Rarity sniffed, sounding faintly annoyed. “Though I’ve read quite a bit about the inherent flaws in the current system. Really, the idea that you can summarize a pony’s entire magical capacity into a single letter is frankly preposterous. The whole system seems wildly inconsistent; take Archmagus Mossy Banks, for one—he was classed as a Beta normally, but while in his swamp he could likely have ranked as an Alpha-plus. Or how a pony with a talent for electrical magic would get a different ranking if the testing equipment is poorly insulated or grounded. Not to mention—” “I know it’s not perfect,” I interrupted. “But until somepony comes up with a better system, I’ll stick with it. It’s a lot easier to be a critic than it is to come up with solutions.” Rarity delicately cleared her throat. “Yes, of course. Well, regardless of the flaws with the current system, I merely wanted to point out that quite a few of my students are either magically gifted, or have family members that are the same. I am familiar with the issue you’re raising.” “I figured you would be. After all, Twilight's sister is in your class.” “Precisely,” she agreed with a satisfied nod. “And while of course I haven’t been crass enough to actually ask, it’s no secret that the Empress’ descendants have demonstrated a considerable talent for magic, and she certainly seems quite capable with her spellwork. Which, between you and me, lets Amethyst get into all sorts of trouble.” I smirked. “According to Twilight, she’s a massive brat. Matches what I’ve seen of her, though Twilight tries to avoid her whenever we’re hanging out. Presumably because she’s worried about her bratty sister stirring something up.” Rarity coughed delicately. “Well, it would of course be most improper for me to publically say something like that about one of my students...” I grinned and leaned forward. “But just between the two of us?” She returned the grin and whispered conspiratorially. “Oh, just between us girls, she is quite the little rascal. It’s a classic case of her being the spoiled baby of the family. Nothing malicious, mind you—I wouldn’t stand for anything like that—but she knows exactly how much harmless mischief she can more-or-less get away with.” “That’s what Twilight always says too.” I paused, and an idea popped into my head. Not an idea I especially liked, but one that was undeniably sensible and would probably make this whole arrangement quite a bit easier for both of us. “So ... you're a teacher. I'm trying to teach you. Any advice?” Rarity blinked, seeming a bit surprised by my question, but quickly rallied. “Ah, certainly. First and foremost, patience is paramount. Every student learns at their own rate, and that's something you have to take into account for your lessons. Getting frustrated will only make it harder on everypony involved.” “Yeah, kinda already figured that part out on my own.” I ran a hoof through my mane and tried to come up with a diplomatic way of explaining myself. “I think part of what’s making this so hard is that you're ... er, no offense, but I'm a genius prodigy, and you're not.” Rarity sniffed softly and used her magic to primp her mane. “I suppose that is true. While I like to think I’ve applied myself to learning, I simply do not possess your natural gifts, nor do I have the benefit of a lifetime of training by the Empress herself. A few impromptu lessons in our spare time is hardly going to change that.” “Right.” I sighed. “So ... patience it is?” The schoolteacher nodded. “Everypony should learn patience, darling. It’s one of the foremost virtues of a proper lady. While there are certainly times when one should push to get what they want, I have found that far more often one will have to wait on others. Especially where students are concerned.” She delicately cleared her throat. “Not to mention that impatience is one of those things another pony will pick up on quite quickly unless you are very good at hiding it, and then the whole process becomes all the more frustrating for both of you.” “Okay, that all sounds very reasonable. It’s just...” I grimaced and waved towards the calendar. “We are on a timetable with Nightmare Moon coming back. We’ve only got so much room left to be patient.” “So I'm aware,” Rarity conceded. “But we do still have nearly a year before her return. It is a bit early to start panicking. Especially when there are some things that simply can't be pushed too hard. I'm sure you've heard of the saying ‘haste makes waste.’” “I’m familiar with the saying, yes.” I scowled and blasted one of the targets she’d been practicing on to let off a little steam. “I just don’t want to risk procrastinating on all of this. It’d be way too easy to get in the habit of putting things off because we have plenty of time before her return, and then next thing we know she’ll be back soon and we won’t have done any prep work to be ready for her.” “I am certainly familiar with that problem,” Rarity conceded. “Every time I remind my students that some major project is due next week, I always see a few looks of barely concealed panic from the girls who haven’t even started working on it yet.” She tapped her lips, frowning in thought. “Hmm, if I were making a lesson plan for this, it would seem best to prioritize the most important things we would want to cover. Just like how my students always try to focus their studying on whatever material they think is likely to be on the test.” “Except that this time the test is going to be an insane alicorn who wants to destroy the Empire trying to kill all six of us. At least if we fail the class, we won’t have to repeat it next year.” We both chuckled at my gallows humor, then got back to business. “Still, the basic idea is sound. So far the lessons have just kinda been a random ad-hoc thing, so planning it out a bit more should help. Shame Twilight’s not here, she’s always been good at organizational stuff. So ... priorities.” I tapped my chin and thought it over. “If I had to pick one thing to focus on, I would say it’s your defenses. After all, Twilight and I can handle the offensive side of things on our own. So, you said you took a couple self-defense classes, right?” “I did,” she confirmed. “Though they were general lessons, if I'm going to be honest. Basic self-defense courses for repelling a mugger or less dangerous monster, and hardly comparable to what you learned from the Empress.” “Exactly.” I tried to moderate my tone. “You’re the only member of the team without some degree of military training. Twilight and I are warmages, Captain Doo’s in the army, Fluttershy’s a Sol Invictus Knight, and the Wonderbolts have combat and search-and-rescue training along with the stunt flying. I’m sure your self-defense classes were nice, but it just doesn’t compare. So, no offense, but if it comes to a fight you'd probably be better off focusing on defense until one of us can step in.” Rarity frowned and huffed haughtily. “I'm hardly some shrieking damsel in distress who must wait for others to rescue her. I know how to take care of myself.” “I'm not saying you're helpless,” I clarified, trying not to be annoyed that she’d misunderstood me after all the trouble I’d gone to making myself perfectly clear. “Just that compared to the knights, warmages, and professional soldiers in the group, you’re the least prepared for life-and-death battle. Have you ever even been in a real fight?” Something I couldn’t quite place flickered across her face before it settled into a carefully neutral mask, though she couldn’t quite hide her frown. “No, I haven’t. I suppose I see your point.” “Right.” I let her think it over for a minute so she would absorb my point. “So, I was going in the wrong direction with blasting spells and accuracy drills. What we really need to focus on is shields. For that, I was thinking we should try something a bit more intense.” “You think so?” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I admit, I have been having some trouble with shields. They seem like very magic-intensive spells. After all, if you stop putting power into the shield, it stops working.” “They can be,” I conceded. “A lot of the trick to being good with shield spells is knowing how to time them so you’re not wasting a ton of energy.” “Of course,” she agreed, nodding thoughtfully. “Keeping a shield up when I’m not in danger would tire me out and accomplish nothing.” She sighed and shook her head. “I suppose it would help if my talents were more suited to combat magic.” I waved her worries away. “I guess you’re not familiar with the Empress’ Theory of Talent Self-Actualization?” I took her faintly bemused frown as an answer, and filled her in. “Basically, back in her early years, everypony said that a pony whose special talent was fire would be terrible with ice, and vice-versa. After all, they were two opposing forces. For generations, you had pyromancers who couldn’t conjure an icicle, because they believed their talents barred them from it.” I felt my chest puff out a bit as I continued. “Then the Empress showed them all they were wrong. Hot and cold weren’t opposing forces, just two points along a single line. And that allowed her to use both with equal skill.” I waited a moment to see if she would grasp the point on her own, and when she didn’t say anything I continued. “Because ponies believed that their talents restricted them, they did. That’s where the Theory of Talent Self-Actualization comes in. How we interpret our specials talents is what determines how we use them.” I gave her a bit longer, then impatiently waved for her to speak up. “Ah, was that it?” Her polite response made me realize her silence had probably been born out of not wanting to interrupt me. Etiquette teachers are kinda required to be picky about manners. “I think I see what you’re driving at now, Sunset. If I believe my talents are unsuited to a certain type of magic, I should look at them from a different perspective.” She frowned, then slowly nodded. “It is an intriguing concept. I recall a ... well, when one of my students was having a bit of a difficult time, and I helped her. I did a few things that were outside the norm for an etiquette teacher, but I was thinking about protecting her right to grow and develop into the fine young mare she deserved to be. In a way, it did connect back to my talents...” I grinned, glad to see she was getting it. “And I bet you did really good at it, didn’t you?” She answered with a modest smile. “I would like to think I did, yes. She certainly hasn’t reported any problems since I intervened.” “Well there you go,” I said, smiling to myself. And to think, I’d been worried I wouldn't be a good teacher. It wasn’t all that hard after all. “Now you just need to apply that perspective to your spellwork.” She frowned thoughtfully, then shook her head. “That might be easier said than done. I hardly see how enhancing beauty can be applied to spells that blast and mangle my enemies, and thinking of my spells as protecting my own beauty just seems horrendously vain.” I groaned and ran a hoof down my face. So close... “Just ... just work on it, okay? You need confidence. It’s pretty much the single most important part of spellcasting. If you don't believe the shield will work, it’ll crack like an egg.” “Well, I can hardly conjure up confidence out of nowhere,” she huffed, though a moment later her eyes lit up. “Buuut ... like I always tell my students, fake it until you make it. Though I suspect covering one’s insecurities with a facade of confidence works far better for social situations than it does for combat.” “Yeah, spells don’t really care about your social image.” However, Rarity’s statement set a few gears whirling in my mind, and pretty soon an idea popped out. “Though there might be other ways to fake confidence that could work.” “I hope you’re not suggesting hiring a motivational speaker,” the schoolteacher scowled to herself. “The one time Miss Harshwhinny tried that at the Academy, the results were ... less than satisfactory.” I was almost tempted to ask what had happened, but I really didn’t want to get distracted from the lesson. “Not exactly. I was just thinking that if we could get your adrenaline pumping, you’d feel a lot better about trying this.” “Hmm,” A thoughtful little frown creased her features, and after several seconds she slowly nodded. “That seems like it might work—at the very least I don’t see the harm in trying. What exactly did you have in mind? I suppose we could go for a light jog on the palace grounds, then try the exercise. As long as we don’t push things too far and wear ourselves out...” “That might not be a bad idea,” I allowed, “but I’d rather not have a fifteen-minute exercise session just to practice a single spell. Especially since after the first try I’ll probably need to spend a bit giving you advice, and by then the adrenaline would be out of your system. We’d have to start all over again.” I paced across the room a few times, mulling over a couple other ideas. “I suppose if we can’t come up with anything else, I could always throw fireballs at you.” She blinked in shock. “Beg your pardon?” I thought over the crazy idea for a moment and actually found myself warming to it. “Don't worry, it would be completely safe. When it comes to pyromancy, my control is absolutely perfect.” Just to demonstrate, I conjured up a tongue of flame and ran it through my mane, keeping it from actually igniting my hair with a simple effort of will. “I wouldn't burn a single hair on your head, but the danger should look real enough to get your heart pumping. What better way to train you to block an attack than to attack?” She gaped at me for several seconds, then vigorously shook her head. “No offense, but no matter how perfect you think your control is, I’d rather not test it by having you hurl fire at me. If something were to go wrong, the results would be rather horrible.” One of my ears flicked, and my jaw felt slightly sore from resisting the urge to grind my teeth. “I said I have perfect control. Walking down the streets of Canterlot is more dangerous than letting me throw fireballs at you.” “Be that as it may...” She started to shake her head, then her ears perked up hopefully. “Maybe you can just use an illusion instead?” I grimaced and shook my head. “If you know it's fake, it won't work.” Though I had already been planning to do something like that by having my fireballs explode into a very large and frightening wall of flame that was actually quite harmless since the heat was too spread out to really cause any damage. “Surely we can do something a bit tamer?” she asked, arching a single eyebrow. “I imagine you have no shortage of other spells at your disposal which pose far less risk of something going wrong and disfiguring me. We're hardly at the point where we need to use fire.” I sighed and threw up my hooves in defeat. “I suppose I could go for a harmless little spray of water. The biggest threat would be getting your mane wet, but it’s still something your shield would hold off.” “That sounds much more reasonable,” she agreed, just as I’d expected she would. “Yeah, great. Are you ready?” I waited until she nodded and planted her hooves, concentrating on the spell she would be casting just as soon as I struck. Then I smirked and conjured up a fireball. “Changed my mind!” Before she could protest, I hurled it at her, though slowly enough to give her an extra second or two to get over her shock and put up her defenses. Rarity let out a panicked shriek, then threw up a pretty impressive shield compared to her earlier efforts. For a moment I eagerly anticipated proof that I’d been in the right. Sure, Rarity would be upset that I’d changed the plan, but the results spoke for themselves. She had just cast a very good shield spell. Unfortunately, I never got the chance to see just how good it was. A heartbeat before my fireball would have hit her shield, there was a blinding flash of light, and a gold-shod hoof smacked my fireball away with contemptuous ease. Then a pair of bright green eyes fixed me with the most furious glare I’d ever seen. Rarity recovered from the surprise first, the perfectly drilled manners of an etiquette teacher taking over as she bowed. “Y-your Majesty?!” Hearing her speak reminded me that I was still not bowing or acknowledging her. Which was an especially bad move when she was scowling at me like I’d just declared my undying allegiance to Nightmare Moon. “E-Empress! Wh-what—?” Then the Empress spoke. I’d heard stories about how, in the time of Old Queen Celestia, they used the Traditional Royal Canterlot Voice. From what I’d read, it was so loud the Old Queen could stand in an open field and issue commands to an entire army. Ponies standing too close to her sometimes got knocked off their hooves by the sheer force of it. The Empress’ voice wasn’t like that. It wasn’t so much loud as it was ... penetrating. Like I could feel the words cutting through my skin with such force that my bones vibrated almost painfully. I could swear the windows actually rattled in their panes as she spoke. “Leave us, Rarity. I would have words with my apprentice.” Rarity let out a squeak that reminded me of the sort of noises I made when my parents caught me sneaking extra sweets. “Yes, Empress.” She maintained enough dignity to not outright run for the exit, but only barely. Once Rarity was out of the room, I swallowed my mounting panic. “Empress, what’s—” A sharp, fiery pain erupted in my cheek before I could get any further, and my head jolted to the side hard enough to blur my vision. It took me a moment to process what had just happened. It just seemed so impossible. The Empress, my teacher, the pony I’d always sought the approval of and tried to model myself upon, had just slapped me. I couldn’t believe it. Or maybe I just didn’t want to. “Sunset Shimmer.” The tremble her words sent through me was only partly on account of her voice this time. “Return to your quarters in the palace. You will remain there until I decide upon a punishment suited to the gravity of your crime. Am I understood?” My rational mind was telling me to start grovelling and doing whatever she wanted, but the rest of my brain was still trying to figure out what the hay had happened. “I—what did I...?” “Go,” she rumbled at me. “Now.”  I fled. Just as the Empress commanded, I spent the next two days locked in my rooms at the palace. Well, technically not locked, since I could open the front door. But every time I did, Lyra was standing right there, blocking the way out. If I asked for food, water, or anything else I needed, it was provided, but I had no doubt she wouldn’t let me set one hoof outside the door. Everypony who spent any time in the palace knew that Lyra was utterly loyal to the Empress. I was pretty sure she would fall on her sword without a moment’s hesitation if the Empress ordered it. Of course, being locked up in my rooms all day left me with no shortage of free time. For a while I tried to do something useful and study, but I could hardly concentrate on teleportation equations or reading after everything that had happened. Besides, the Empress was probably going to kick me out of the palace and cancel all my projects whenever she got around to seeing me again. The worst part of my fall from grace had been how sudden it was. No warning, no buildup—hay, I still didn’t even know what I’d done to cause it all. One minute I’d been training Rarity on shield spells, the next I was locked up like some kind of criminal. I had heard ponies could fall out of royal favor quickly, but that was usually because they’d failed a vital task or abused her good will. I’d been upset at first, but there’d been plenty of time for the initial surprise to wear off. Now ... now I was just angry. It wasn’t fair! I wanted to find the Empress and scream at her, but I hadn’t seen her since she’d locked me away in my quarters. However, her little pet was standing right outside my door. Since I was unlikely to get a chance to let the Empress know how angry I was, Lyra would have to suffice. The next time she brought in one of my meals, I let her have it. “Hey, got a question for you.” The spy set my tray down, then paused, meeting my eyes with cool, calculating apathy. “Ask.” “Does it bug you?” I smirked at the faint bit of confusion that flickered across her face. “About the Elements, that is. After all, you’ve spent years following after Empress like a stray dog hoping to be fed a few scraps from the table, and when the time finally comes, you get nothing.” My smile took on a nasty edge. “It must really hurt.” The spy’s eyes narrowed, but her voice came out tonelessly flat. “We all have our place in the Empire. You play your part, I play mine.” “I suppose,” I closed in on her, aiming for what I hoped would be a weak point. Maybe it was spiteful of me, but I wanted to make that stuck-up spy nag feel just as rotten as I did. “Still, it must really eat at you that she didn’t pick you for one of the Elements. I could understand her not offering you Honesty, considering your job. And I suppose Kindness and Generosity would be off the table too.” I let that hang in the air for a moment, then went in for the kill. “But Loyalty ... oh, I could see that. But that went to my Twilight, not you. You’re not the Empress’ most loyal servant. I bet you’re not even in the top ten.” It was a little hard to tell, but I could swear I saw her teeth clenching. “I know you’re just trying to piss me off. It’s not going to work.” Somepony was knocking on the door, but I was far too focused on Lyra to pay any mind to it. Not when I’d finally found a chink in her armor. “Well, I guess I can’t blame the Empress for doubting your loyalty. I mean, you are a spy. Everypony knows spies have dubious loyalty. Maybe she thinks you’re a double agent...” Lyra’s muscles tensed, and one of her hooves twitched towards the blades on her back. “The Empress does not doubt my loyalty. She shared the secret of the Elements with me before any of you. I was the one who vetted all the potential bearers.” I continued to ignore the knocking, despite the fact that it was becoming much more insistent. “But of course, you couldn’t vet yourself,” I shot right back. “So I guess we’ll never really know who you’re loyal to, will we?” “You might wanna watch your mouth,” Lyra snarled, one hoof rising up and sprouting a magical appendage to grip her sword. “You might not have noticed, but you’ve fallen out of favor with the Empress. I haven’t. I’m sure she’d understand if I told her I had to cut you a little to prevent you from escaping.” The threat took me by surprise, but my shock quickly turned to anger. “You wouldn’t dare. I’m the Empress’ personal student! If you lay one hoof on me—” “You were her student,” Lyra cut me off. “But right now she’s pretty pissed off at you. It’s only a matter of time before you get kicked out of the palace. Once that happens ... well, you won’t be much of anything, will you? Little noponies need to respect their betters, or they might just get themselves in trouble.” I was about let her have it when the door flew open and Rarity strode in. I guess she must have gotten tired of knocking, or maybe she’d heard us through it. Lyra and I hadn’t exactly been watching our volume. The etiquette teacher strode confidently between us. “Now now, ladies. I don’t know what you two are so upset about, but I think it would be best if we all calmed down and talked the matter out like civilized ponies.” She stepped a bit closer to Lyra and put a gently restraining hoof on her sword-arm. That was a mistake. Lyra was so on edge from my needling that it didn’t take much to set her off, and somepony trying to disarm and restrain her, however kindly, was more than enough. The spy exploded into motion, her hooves lashing out in a series of unarmed strikes I could barely even follow. But that wasn’t the really shocking part. Rarity blocked every single punch and kick Lyra sent her way, dropping into something I vaguely recognized as a martial arts stance. I knew just enough about how to fight with my hooves to realize that Rarity was good. Really good. There was a tense standoff between the spy and the schoolteacher as Rarity waited to see what Lyra would do next. However, as the moments dragged out, Lyra slowly relaxed, then nodded to her. “Not bad. Not bad at all. You got all that just from a couple self-defense classes?” Rarity answered with a wintry smile. “My teacher did say I was a fast learner.” “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.” The spy turned her back on Rarity. “Well, I doubt you’re here to see me, so I’ll give you two the illusion of privacy. I’ll be right outside the door if you need me. And Rarity ... I could use a good sparring partner. Maybe we can set something up.” Rarity’s tone was carefully polite, but I didn’t miss the slight glare she sent at the spy’s back. “I will consider that offer.” Once Lyra was out of the room she turned to me, offering a warm and friendly smile. “I do apologize for that unpleasantness. I wasn’t expecting Lyra to react so badly to a simple touch. I hope you don’t mind, but after what happened the other day I thought I should check in on you. Especially since Twilight is still out of the city.” I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but considering I’d just spent the last couple days locked up with no social contact beyond the Empress’ pet, I wasn’t going to complain about it. “Thanks, Rarity.” She nodded, acknowledging my gratitude. “I had also been considering speaking to the Empress on your behalf. From what I’ve heard—not to mention the rumors flying across the city—she is rather displeased with you over what happened during our training session. Since I was there, I feel I have a right to say what I think of the affair.” She paused, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “In all honesty, I can’t say I particularly cared for your choice of training tactics. A surprise fireball was ... not something I wished to experience. That said, I did notice my shield was quite a bit stronger than normal, and I am not blind to the reasons behind your actions. I was far too frightened and startled by the attack to even consider my own doubts about my abilities. In that, you were quite successful.” She frowned, tapping a hoof on the floor. “Given all of that, I don’t think I am being too terribly unreasonable by saying that, while I do not approve of your actions, I do not think they merit a severe punishment. Certainly not anything on the scale of what that dreadful Lyra was saying you might face. Given that most ponies would regard me as the ... injured party in this case, I think my opinion ought to have some weight with the Empress.” “Yeah, that makes sense.” I sighed and trotted over to my favorite chair by the fireplace, slumping down into it. “I ... thanks for offering to petition the Empress for me. I’ll take whatever help I can get right now.” “But of course.” She trotted over to the chair opposite mine, which was normally reserved for Twilight. She’d spent fifteen minutes carefully placing it for optimum light, proximity to the fire, and being close to me without being distractingly close. However, considering what Rarity was doing for me, objecting to her using Twilight’s chair would’ve been really stupid. Like I’d just said, I couldn’t afford to piss off the one pony who might be able to help me get out of this mess. Once Rarity was comfortably settled into Twilight’s seat, she shot me a sympathetic smile. “But enough about your problems. How are you doing, darling? I can’t imagine the last few days have been easy for you.” I probably should’ve kept a tighter rein on my temper, but after two days of not having anypony to talk to, I needed to vent. “Of course it hasn’t been easy! I've been locked up in my suite like some sort of criminal! I’m too worried to be able to focus on anything that could distract me, but since the Empress won’t tell me anything I can’t stop freaking out over what’s gonna happen. I feel like I’m gonna go nuts if this keeps up much longer!” I groaned and ran a hoof down my face. “Not to mention what Twilight’s going to think when she finds out about this. What if ... what if once she finds out the Empress is throwing me out, she doesn’t want anything more to do with me? I mean, she got Loyalty, so she’d be loyal to the Empress, right?” “Or she will be loyal to you,” the schoolteacher answered levelly. “I admit I don’t know either of you terribly well, but from what I’ve seen of her, she is not the sort to abandon someone she cares for just because the political winds have shifted. And if she is, then she was hardly the best choice of paramour to begin with.” She delicately cleared her throat, shifting away from that potentially dangerous topic. “Would you like some tea? I know that always soothes my nerves when I’m feeling frazzled.” From what I vaguely recalled of my own etiquette lessons, it should have been me offering her tea. After all, she was the guest, and I was the host. Though considering her profession, I guess she’d decided my lapse was forgivable. “Tea ... sounds nice. Thank you.” “Oh, it’s my pleasure, darling.” She got up from Twilight’s chair. “Now if you wouldn’t mind showing me around your kitchen? It would save me a considerable amount of trouble, since I don’t know where you keep everything.” “Oh, right.” I got up and led her over to the fairly simple kitchen I’d put in one of the smaller side-rooms. Most of the private suites didn’t have those, since it was usually easier to just have food sent up from the palace kitchen. The only reason I had my own private kitchen was to practice my magic, which brought a problem to mind. “I’ll need to help you make the tea. I don’t exactly have a stove to heat the water with.” She paused frowning to herself. “Oh really? No offense, darling, but a kitchen without a stove isn’t much of a kitchen. How can you cook anything?” I grinned and tapped my horn, feeling just a little bit like my old self for the first time in a couple days. “I’ve always had a knack for fire. That’s why I have a private kitchen: cooking my own food was good practice. Maintaining steady, even heat on a pan for half an hour takes a lot of concentration and precision.” “I certainly can’t imagine holding onto a spell for that long,” the schoolteacher admitted. She sighed and shook her head. “Darling, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you sometimes don’t realize how incredible your magical gifts are compared to the average pony.” She held up a hoof to keep me from saying anything. “Oh, I’m sure you know you’re talented, but the degree of it ... both you and Twilight Sparkle casually talk about feats of magic that I couldn’t even dream of managing. I wonder if that might be part of why you had trouble teaching me. Your natural gifts are so great that it’s hard for you grasp how limited the rest of us are.” “Oh.” My ears drooped a bit as I realized she was probably right. Between my parents both being Archmagi and then being the Empress’ personal student, I’d never really had much exposure to what an ‘average’ unicorn could manage. The closest example I had was ponies like Lyra who’d opted to focus on physical skills over their magic, and that wasn’t the same thing as ... well, somepony ordinary like Rarity. Maybe that was why the Empress had made her part of our group? Myself, Twilight, and the others were all elites, the best of the best. Perhaps she thought we needed an ordinary pony to help keep us grounded? It wasn’t the craziest explanation. Then again, this ordinary little schoolteacher could somehow go hoof-to-hoof with the Empress’ pet spy. Maybe Rainbow Dash was right, and she was hiding some secrets. If she was, I’d need to find them out someday. The schoolteacher softly cleared her throat, holding up a teakettle filled with water. “In any case, shall we get to making that tea? I’ve taken the liberty of selecting a lovely jasmine blend, I hope that’s alright. I must say, you had a very nice collection.” “Yeah, Twilight really likes tea.” I drank a fair bit of it too, though less because I liked it than because it had plenty of caffeine to fuel our late-night study sessions. As well as the mornings after our late-night study sessions. “Glad you like all my tea. It’s one of the perks of being the Empress' personal...” I slowly trailed off, a shiver running down my spine as I remembered that pretty soon I might not be her student anymore. Rarity must have been able to read my body language, because she stepped over and put a reassuring hoof on my shoulder. “Now now, you mustn’t work yourself into a state worrying about what the Empress will do. You’re a very talented mare, and whatever happens, I am sure you will do quite well for yourself.” “Thanks.” I sighed and ran a hoof through my mane.  “It’s just that ... well, I really like being her student.” “I’m sure it comes with many advantages,” Rarity agreed, though with a faint frown. “Though I feel I must point out that one can hardly be a student forever. Surely at some point the Empress plans to have you apply your education?” “I’m pretty sure that’s what this business with Nightmare Moon is.” I chuckled to myself. “The Empress set up one hay of a final exam, didn’t she? But ... yeah, there were times I wondered why I was still a student after so many years. At least now I know the truth: she was preparing me to take on Nightmare Moon. I really wanna see that through. Assuming she’ll still let me after ... well...” “Yes, I suppose that is the question of the hour.” She sighed, and turned her attention back to the teapot. For a couple minutes neither of us said anything, until the tea was done and we were both back in our chairs. After a few sips, she grimaced and shook her head. “I’m terribly sorry, but it seems I haven’t managed to lift your spirits at all. Rather the opposite at the moment. And considering what you’ve been through, I really wanted to help. After the Empress slapped you...” I flinched. “You heard that?” She reluctantly nodded. “Sorry to say I did. Not that I intended to overhear, but I’d only just left the room when...” Her eyes dropped down, and she swirled her tea thoughtfully. “I have not mentioned it to anyone else, of course. Such events are ... not something that ought to be put about for public consumption.” I slumped down into my chair. “Thanks. There’s probably enough ugly rumors flying around already.” “Actually, I haven’t heard anything.” She tried to give me a reassuring smile. “I think most of the palace is simply assuming you’re hard at work on some private project, and Lyra is skulking about to make sure you aren’t disturbed. With any luck, we can resolve the matter in a way that allows the rest of Equestria to continue thinking exactly that.” She sipped her drink. “The last thing you need right now is to have this whole affair turn into a tabloid scandal that will set everyone’s tongues wagging.” “No kidding.” I groaned and slumped down further. “I think I’d go nuts if everypony in Equestria knew about it. All of them looking, judging, talking about it.” “It would be a rather dreadful situation,” she agreed with a sympathetic smile. “But I don’t think we need to worry too much about that at the moment. The Empress ... well I wouldn’t presume to know her better than you do, but I suspect she would prefer to handle this matter quietly and ... in-house, as it were. I suspect that even if she does end your ... status, she would do so in a way that avoids publicly shaming you. Likely she would just declare your education completed and put you on some task that will keep you far away from the capital.” “I wouldn’t exactly call that a win for me.” My eyes flicked out the window. “I’d be leaving behind my entire life. All my studies, everything I’ve worked on. Twilight...” “Well, yes.” She tried to force a little cheer into her voice. “But let’s not dwell too much on the worst possible outcomes. I was trying to calm your fears, not multiply them. I truly do think that the Empress will be more reasonable than that. She was clearly in quite a state when she confronted you the other day, and she should be calmer now.” The schoolteacher paused, and a shiver ran down her back. “Though I must say, seeing the Empress when she’s beside herself with anger was a ... well, it gave me a rather frightful scare.” My ears went flat. “How do you think I felt? You were just on the periphery of it, I was the one who got the full blast.” I trembled again as the memories came back. I’d spent so much time being used to the Empress as my demanding but ultimately fair teacher that I’d forgotten she was also an incredibly powerful alicorn who could probably rip me in half with a single spell. I was never going to forget that again. Not after I’d seen what she was like when she was angry. “I can only imagine.” Rarity left her tea behind, trotting over to my side. For a moment she just patted my back, but then she gave me a quick hug. “Don’t worry, darling. Everything will work out, I promise you.” I blinked in surprise at the hug, my own hooves freezing uncertainly. “Er...” She quickly pulled back, a demure blush on her cheeks. “Oh, sorry. Was that too much? I didn’t mean to presume...” “It’s fine,” I waved her apology off, mostly because the whole situation was awkward enough and I didn’t want to make it worse. “Just caught me by surprise.” “Regardless, my apologies.” She smiled, a touch awkwardly. “I ... well, you looked like a mare who rather desperately needed someone to hug her and tell her everything was going to be alright, and I thought we were on good enough terms that—” “It’s fine,” I repeated. “I’m not angry or anything. Just ... well, Twilight’s about the only pony who ever hugs me, normally.” My parents also qualified, and the Empress a couple times back when I’d been a little filly who needed hugs more. It had been months since the last time I’d really seen my parents, though, and I’d outgrown hugs from the Empress a long time ago. Rarity slowly nodded. “Ah, I see. Well, I certainly hope you know I wasn’t trying to intrude upon her territory.” She smiled nervously. “I suppose my own social circle is just a bit more ... huggy, I suppose.” “It’s fine,” I told her one last time, hoping she would finally get the message and drop the subject. Talking it all out was just making it worse. She studied me for a moment, then nodded to herself. “Yes, of course.” She delicately cleared her throat, then levitated over her teacup. “Well, in any case, it seems you’re managing quite admirably under the circumstances. Unless you need anything else, I suppose I should see to my meeting with the Empress.” “Yeah.” That sounded a bit ungrateful, considering all the trouble she was going to for me, so I took a deep breath and tried to put aside any lingering awkwardness from the hug. “And Rarity? Thanks for checking up on me and talking to the Empress.” She gave me one last parting smile before trotting out the door. “But of course, da—Sunset.” Despite the awkward turn our conversation had taken at the end, I was still a little sad when she left. The Empress’ guards came for me a couple hours later. Much to my relief, Lyra wasn’t with the group. I’d be perfectly happy if I never saw the spy again, though I knew that probably wouldn’t happen. For some reason that completely escaped me, the Empress liked her. Maybe the Empress just appreciated her absolute, unquestioning loyalty. The guards led me to the Empress’ private quarters, down the same path I’d followed hundreds of times since I’d become her student. It felt ... different, this time. Probably like how a condemned criminal feels while being led to their execution. The guards led me straight to her semi-private throne room. The Empress herself was already waiting atop the throne, staring imperiously down at me as I stepped through the doors, her face a regal but expressionless mask. She nodded perfunctorily to the guards. “Leave us. I do not wish to be disturbed, unless it is an emergency.” The guards bowed and exited, leaving the two of us alone. I hesitated for a moment, and then my mouth started talking without consulting the rest of my brain first. “Empress, I—” An upraised hoof cut me off. “I have much to say before you speak, my child. Be silent.” My mouth shut so fast that my teeth produced an almost audible click. The last thing I wanted to do was give the Empress any more reasons to be unhappy with me. The Empress drew herself up in her throne, towering over me. “Sunset Shimmer, while I cannot understate the seriousness of your grave lapse of judgement, I feel that I would be remiss if I did not concede that my reaction may have been...” She grimaced, then shook her head and grumbled something under her breath. I couldn’t make out most of it, but did catch Old Queen Celestia’s name. Then the Empress sighed heavily, slumping back against her throne. Something about her ... changed. It took me a second to put my hoof on it; the Empress looked ... old. I’d known she was over nine hundred years old, but she’d always had this sort of ageless, eternal beauty to her that defied the passage of time. Like ruling the entire known, civilized world was as easy for her as making a cup of tea. I didn’t know what to make of the old, tired mare in front of me. Empress Sunbeam smiled bitterly at me. “I had a wonderful speech planned out. I would carefully dance around actually showing weakness by apologizing, while making it clear that I regret my actions. And of course, it would also leave you quite convinced that this entire mess was entirely your fault, and not mine. I was reasonably confident it would move you to tears as well. Unfortunately, I can’t find it within myself to actually use the damned thing.” My eyes went wide as I tried to wrap my mind around what she was saying. She’d never acted like this around me before. Even when she’d been friendly with me, she’d always still been ... well, still the Empress talking to a subordinate. “You know, Sunset,” Empress Sunbeam continued, “you often remind me of myself when I was your age.” My chest puffed out a bit, causing her eyes to narrow. “If you had ever met me then, you would realize that I have not just paid you a compliment.” She scowled and angrily shook her head. “I was so often a fool in those days, seeking the simplest, most direct solution to my immediate problems with no thought to the long-term consequences. I suppose I never truly learned the significance of my actions until I gained my crown. How a single death can cause echoes that reverberate across all of history. In my youth I was more than willing to sacrifice a single innocent to save a dozen and call it a righteous victory, because I could not see beyond the immediate. See how such an act could cause further troubles a decade into the future.” She sighed and removed her crown, idly holding it in her hooves and toying with it. “But of all my youthful mistakes, there is one that haunts me to this very day. One that you, in your actions with Rarity, came entirely too close to replicating. That wound ... it seems even after all these centuries, it is still raw enough that I react poorly when reminded of it.” My mouth hung open as I took everything she was telling me. “Empress, I—I had no idea that ... I’m sorry, but—” “I am not yet finished, my child,” she gently chided me. She paused, then scoffed and shook her head. “I suppose there is a sad kind of irony to it all. In attempting to prevent you from repeating my mistakes, I have succeeded only in finding entirely new ways to make a mess of things. For that, you have my deepest, most abject apologies.” To my utter shock, she climbed down off her throne and stood before me, almost like an equal. “I have failed you.” It took me several seconds to kick-start my brain after all the surprises she’d thrown at me. It was just all so ... surreal. The Empress never apologized, never showed weakness in front of others, and never stopped acting the part of an absolutely confident ruler. At least, not until five minutes ago. It was like everything I’d ever known about her was suddenly different. I hesitantly stepped towards her, and my mouth finally formed a coherent sentence. “Empress, I ... well, everyone makes mistakes, right?” She slowly nodded. “Yes, but when an Empress makes a mistake, the consequences are far worse. And with my insight and experience, such lapses are far less forgivable.” I took a deep breath. “Well, I'm not mad about it.” I paused, and reluctantly amended. “I mean, not a whole lot or anything.” She had hit me, after all. I was allowed to be a little upset. “I'm just glad you're not angry at me anymore.” The Empress answered me with a sad smile. “It was still wrong for me to strike you, not to mention how badly I must have frightened you. Yes, I was upset for somewhat understandable reasons, but that is no excuse for my behavior. It seems even after all these centuries, I can still make bad decisions when it matters most.” I hesitated for quite a while before I dug up enough courage to ask the big question. “Empress, you said what I did reminded you of something. A mistake in your past. Can I ... would you tell me what happened?” She turned to me, her face carefully unreadable. She kept me waiting for a long time, wondering if I’d pressed my luck too far. Perhaps I should’ve been content with just accepting her apology and moving on. After all, she’d already told me that whatever had happened in the past was still something that bothered her enough that even being reminded of it had set her off. I might not have the best social skills in the world, but even I knew that poking around old wounds like that is usually a bad idea. Especially when I knew the Empress generally preferred to bury her dirty laundry so deep nopony even knew it existed. However, once again the Empress surprised me. Her horn lit up, and several fresh privacy wards wove into the walls of the room. “I'm only going to tell you this because I feel that you have earned it after what happened.” Her eyes narrowed, and the fierce authority I was used to seeing from her returned in an instant. “But you are never to speak of this with anypony. Ever. If you do, the consequences will be severe. Do you understand?” I flinched back half a step by pure instinct. The sheer intensity of her words was more than a little intimidating. “Yeah, got it,” I squeaked out. She nodded sharply, then trotted for the door. “We should discuss this in my private chambers.” After a quick detour through her personal wine room to retrieve a couple bottles, she led the way back to her most private rooms. She set down one of the bottles on a coffee table, then waved for me to take a seat on the nearby sofa. She kept the other for herself, opening it up as she walked over to a nearby window and gazed out over the city. It was raining, so there wasn’t much to see beyond lots of grey. She took a long pull from her bottle, then began. “As I mentioned, in my younger days I had a tendency towards strong, direct action. The shortest distance between two points was a straight line, after all. However, that philosophical bent was not limited to my duties as archmagus or grand vizier, it influenced every aspect of my life. Including how I raised my daughter.” My brain immediately came up with a pretty good guess for where this was all going, but I figured it was better to let the Empress tell me at her own pace. “So ... Midnight?” She nodded, her eyes never leaving the window. “The ponies around me always said she was the best part of me. Or perhaps it was just that she brought out the best parts of myself. I suppose it matters little which it was. What truly matters is that they were right. Raising a child took my life in directions I never would have anticipated, and defined me in ways that took me a lifetime to fully grasp.” She sighed and lifted a hoof, slowly sliding it down the window. “I used to have problems similar to your own when it came to teaching. My first effort to take an apprentice as a political favor to one of my allies ended quite badly. The poor young colt had some talent, but hardly enough to make a proper magus. As was my way, I was rather impatient with his failures and quite blunt about his lack of ability. Midnight ... oh, she was every bit as brilliant and talented as I was. However...” When she trailed off and didn’t say anything for a long while, I threw out a prompting question. “What was the problem? “The problem was me.” Her eyes fell to the floor, and she took another long drink from her wine.  “Midnight was talented, but she still had areas where her natural gifts shined more brightly. Her progress in learning shielding spells was not as rapid as I desired, nor as swift as that of some of the other apprentices learning from other masters.” A bitter smile tugged at her lips. “I was terribly proud, then. Well, I still am, to be honest. The idea that I and my daughter were inferior to others in any aspect ... rankled.” “So you tried to speed things up,” I concluded. “And I guess you did pretty much what I was gonna do with Rarity?” “Worse, actually.” She stared out at the city, her eyes and voice distant. “You must understand that nine hundred years ago, the training of apprentice magi was a much harsher process. In fact, many of the laws preventing such harsh training methods were put into place by myself in the early days of the Empire. In those days, there was a common saying when it came to training apprentices in defensive magics: ‘Fear of pain is excellent motivation.’” My jaw dropped as her story continued. “I am sure you can guess how things proceeded from there. I thought the best way to teach Midnight to better focus on her shield spells was to use rocks. It seemed reasonable. Merciful, even. My master used knives when he trained me.” She scoffed and shook her head. “I had hoped that after a few bumps and bruises she would be driven to master the spell and spare herself further pain. I told myself that a few bruises and cuts were a small price to pay for teaching her skills that would save her life a dozen times over.” She drained her bottle dry. “One of the great flaws of a brilliant mind, my child, is that we can be quite good at convincing ourselves to do stupid things.” A shiver ran down my spine as I tried to imagine where her story was headed. I had a good guess, but the details... “W—what happened?” There was a pause, and then the wine bottle she’d provided me with lifted up, caught by her magic. She poured me a single glass, then took the rest for herself. “Matters ... did not proceed as I had planned. Midnight’s first shield was a partial success, deflecting the rock from its intended path without stopping it. It broke her leg.” She grimaced and swiped at her eyes. “She had been so trusting of me, so confident I could do no wrong and that my training regimen must be right.” She finished half the bottle in a single pull. “And then I hurt her, badly. My healing skills were not as well developed in those days. The damage I had inflicted upon her was beyond my skill, and I was forced to seek outside help. Which, of course, made it impossible to hide what had happened. Celestia, Shadow, Gale ... all of my friends and allies were quite furious. And with good reason. For all that I might claim ‘twas merely an accident and I should not be blamed for it, her health and wellbeing were my responsibility. At best, my actions were grossly reckless. At worst ... Celestia believed them abusive.” She finished off the second bottle, then chuckled humorlessly. “I wonder what she would say about how I treated you? Probably much the same. This situation is far too similar to what happened in the past for me to be comfortable.” She finally turned away from the window, walking over to a large painting of herself and her daughter. I suspected that once I was gone, she would be visiting the Vault again to see her daughter’s remains. I tried to force a little optimism into my voice. “It’s not all that bad. Rarity's fine, and I...” I tried to put on a confident smile, but it felt way too artificial. “I’m fine too. It takes more than you yelling at me a little to shake me up.” The Empress stepped over to my side, wrapping one of her massive wings around me. “Relax, my child. It is just the two of us here. You don't need to keep up a brave face.” I leaned into her touch and took a deep breath. “Okay, yeah. It scared me. But I can deal with it. I'm not some delicate flower who can't handle being yelled at by her teacher. Besides, you’ve already apologized, and I've dealt with it. I’m not exactly happy about what happened, but I’m not traumatized or anything, and I’m not gonna need years of therapy. We're okay. Everything’s gonna be fine.” She took deep breath, then slowly nodded. “I suppose that will have to be good enough, then. Thank you, Sunset.” “Yeah.” I took a moment to just enjoy being close to her. “Empress? Thanks ... for everything. Telling me about ... well, I know it was probably hard.” “A bit,” she admitted. Her wing gently squeezed me. “It is not a pleasant memory to revisit, but you deserved the truth. And ... you have earned my trust. I am very proud of you, my child. Of all my descendants, you and Twilight are the two I am proudest of since Midnight herself. I know you will both accomplish great things together.” I smiled, my chest swelling at her compliments. She grinned, and gently prodded me with the tip of one wing. “Though I do think we need to work on your teaching methods at some point in the future. After all, with your considerable talents I expect your foals with Twilight will be exceptionally gifted.” My jaw practically hit the floor. “F-foals?! We just started dating!” The Empress chuckled to herself. “Oh, my child, forgive me for planning a bit too far into the future.” She looked up at the painting of herself and Midnight once more. “It seems to be a flaw that is all too common amongst immortals. None of us are perfect, after all.”