//------------------------------// // Year 3 - part 1 // Story: The Sun and I // by Ghostfriendly //------------------------------// The following statement was given by Snowdrift Maregay, Headpony of Riftsbridge village, to Lieutenant Shining Armour (attached to North Equestria Command through the officer exchange program), regarding the destruction of the village and bridge. I first saw her crossing the bridge; her mane blazed like a signal fire through the mists. We barely ever see Unicorns in these snowy mountains, just squat brown Earths much like myself–but anypony could tell, she was no ordinary Unicorn. Looking for something, and in no lukewarm way. I’ve tended goats in this valley all my life; still can’t hardly imagine how she lived, with such fire under her rump. Still, she had a smile like sunrise over Starfall Mountain. Never lost it, even when everypony else had lost hope. Sorry, Officer. This was the morning after the day it started. Bright Eyes, the young District Post-pegasus, came swooping through our town crying that Yaks were coming. We all laughed then–she’s never been the sharpest tool in the barn–but that evening, everypony from the hamlet north of us galloped through, all but frothing at the mouth. Three Yaks had marched into Northtown, they said. Monsters half as big as their shacks, smashing any handcart in their part; stinking like Yak-sized armpits full of rancid butter. Yatilla the Yak, they said, had claimed everything north of Rift Canyon as Yakyakistan’s rightful territory. He was doing it in the name of Prince Rutherford. If his horde found a single pony left when they marched in, that meant war, with all Equestria. We’d just started packing our carts to leave, when this Unicorn (Never caught her name) trots into town and asks the way to Starfall Mountain. Somepony must’ve told her the state of things, since she went on to stand in the village square and call for attention. She says, aren’t we Equestrians? Didn’t our great-grandfolks eke these homes and fields out of the mountainside? Aren’t we ponies of the greatest nation in history, and isn’t Celestia our Queen? Nopony in our village had set eyes on the Princess, or dreamt of her Highness risking war over our frozen mountains and shacks. But this Unicorn talked of a mission from the Princess herself. She would fight through Tartarus to finish it, let alone a herd of brutish savages. She said a lot, and somehow we got the idea that these Yaks didn’t amount to much–that we would stay and fight. Her voice seemed to stroke everypony’s heart, and gently light up a fire. The young colts started barricading the end of the valley straight away. I told them, there was nothing built by ponies Yaks couldn’t smash, but hadn’t any other ideas. The Unicorn mare just looked in this funny book where she’d been writing something an hour ago. Then she looked up, smiling fit to make a stallion wish himself twenty years younger. She asked, had I read ‘The Defence of Donkey’s Drift’? She hadn’t read it either, but it apparently talked of a barrier no Yak could smash. And that ponies didn’t need to sit on a place to defend it. Refugees from northerly villages poured in over the next day. A few of us stayed in the village with the foals and old folk, but most of us scrambled up the two hills, overlooking the northern paths into the valley. The Rift was to our south, and the snow-capped mountains to east and west are impassable. There was a tiny goat trail leading around between the Rift and the west mountain, but it would take the Yaks a day to circle round, if they ever found it. The Unicorn mare said she’d mined all the northern paths with her Gift, and sent a message to you fine Guard ponies. We just had to hang on long enough. I’ll never forget the sight of the Yak horde. Or the smell, or the noise when they saw ponies ahead. They were covered in clanking armour and skulls of sheep; their horns were a forest of sharpened trees. Those red mouth gaped wider than our shaking bodies, as they roared out and thundered towards the valley. Explosions from the rocks underhoof threw a goodish number back, but most kept coming. The unicorn mare timed it perfect. We were on the hills commanding the valley’s north end from both sides. Where the path narrowed ahead of the charge, we kicked down boulders about their ears. Yaks fell, the herd piled up behind them, and then we kicked down the special rocks into that howling mess. The mare had Gifted them to explode into a hundred red-hot daggers. I don’t know if we killed any; don’t know what could stop those monsters for good. But they don’t much like the Gift. It wasn’t long before they were charging back the way they’d come. Within an hour, they were charging straight up the hills at us. Devouring the distance–but our rocks threw down even more of them, and when they got too close, the mare blasted them with fire, and they ran. Then she shouted at us to save our rocks for later, and vanished over to the opposite hill, where the Yaks had almost reached the top. In minutes, those Yaks were running too. Then she flashed back to our position, and fell down, spent. We held her up like the prize she was, and cheered ourselves warm against the frozen air. The attack next morning was much weaker. We were all smiling, until Bright Eyes the Pegasus dropped in, shouting that the Yaks had found the western path. With the mountain at one shoulder, and the rift on the other, they were streaming towards the valley; even along the side of the mountain impassable to ponies. The unicorn mare never stopped smiling. Her horn glowed for an instant–then half a million tons of snow and rock poured down the mountain’s far side. Don’t like to think about it, even if they were Yaks. Bright Eyes hardly stopped bragging how she’d flown up and set the charge, days ago. The unicorn mare, as I said, didn’t stop smiling for nothing. She told us that afternoon about destroying the bridge. The Yaks would break through to the village whenever the next attacked, she said. We had to destroy the Yaks’ route into Equestria, by getting everypony still in the village across the bridge, before she blew it. Of course, that left both parties on the hills cut off without retreat, and our village smashed. But somehow she convinced us that mere fields and buildings meant less than victory; that our sacrifice in defence of Equestria would be remembered and rewarded. Thinking about it, I suppose she must have Gifted the bridge before the battle even began, but didn’t bring it up until we were in too far to turn back. (By the by, Officer, we will be getting some bits for our poor wrecked village, won’t we? We were promised, in Celestia’s name…and it was really the unicorn mare who blew up the bridge, and maybe started a war. We’re not staying around here if there is war, so we would truly need those Bits soon…very well, Officer. Thank you) Anyway, the Yaks broke through, smashed our village into the hillside and messed in the ruins, as I suppose you can tell…sorry, Officer. Give me a moment. Then she destroyed the bridge, and we were surrounded. A few Northtown ponies tried to sneak off in the night; I saw one of them ambushed by Yaks buried under snow. They aren’t true, are they, Officer? The stories about what Yaks do to their prisoners? They thronged all over the hillsides, chanting and roaring up threats. The unicorn mare always shouted back that we’d enough Gifted rocks to blast them all. In truth, we had barely any left. But she kept on smiling, until she opened that funny glowing book of hers again, and started to scream at everypony at once. It was that underground watercourse; runs from the top of the hill to its base. I’d had sworn it was too small for Yaks, but they must’ve smashed a way through. They came out on the summit of our hill, roaring for vengeance. We were ready with the last of our Gifted rocks, but they were charging uphill as well. The last time I saw that unicorn mare with the fiery mane, a Yak with gold on its horns was charging her. She had just blasted another beast away, a cliff was at her back–she vanished, flashed up behind the charging Yak and kicked it. The great monster teetered on the brink, snarling with reckless, inequine hate. Her Gift must have been spent, because she threw her shoulder against the beast–they both went off the side of the hill. We fought on all we could, with spears, hooves and teeth, against monsters big as the shacks they’d wrecked. I don’t how we did it–we would’ve been killed, Sir, if you hadn’t dropped from that flying chariot, blasting every Yak off the hillside with your marvellous shield. Thank you, Officer. Thank you, for everypony’s sake. What happened to the Unicorn? Well, after you brave Guards saw the Yaks off, Bright Eyes told me she’d found her, half-way down the hill. Injured–but she made off towards Starfall Mountain, as soon as she was on her hooves. Limping; never stopping or turning back. Bright Eyes flew after her as a guide, though I fair screamed at her that all the northerly mountains were full with fleeing Yaks. But that Unicorn mare had a mission from Princess Celestia, and to finish it meant more than her life. That’s who she was, Officer. That was how she led us. Never give up. Never surrender. Though all Tartarus stood in her way. -0- -0- A week later, crystals in her saddlebag, Sunset pushed aside the door to Celestia’s throne room. The Princess smiled proudly at her, as she turned away from Twilight, who rushed to Sunset and joyfully nuzzled behind her ears. “Sunset, I’m so glad you’re safe!” “Yeah, I noticed." Sunset grinned as she stroked Twilight's mane, "Guess you couldn’t wait.” “Actually, I called Twilight here to congratulate her,” Celestia’s pure voice pricked at Sunset’s ears, “Her tactical advice through the journal was invaluable to your success.” “Oh, but Princess, it really was Sunset’s success!” Backing away from her friend, Twilight flashed a heartfelt, perhaps slightly nervous smile between Princess and student, “She had to react and decide, inspire ponies to fight, and even risk her own life! Please, tell Sunset that she’s done the best, and, and that you care for her more than anypony! It would mean, I mean, I think that would be good...” “Twilight, of course.” Celestia bent to look her older student in the eye, “Sunset, you did splendidly. Your courage and resource saved the lives of many ponies–” “Just tell me if I started a war.” Sunset was impressed with Twilight’s nerve, and she knew she meant well. But whatever Celestia would’ve said, she wished Twilight had left her unprompted to say it. “As I wrote to you, Yatilla the Yak was exiled from Yakyakistan last year, for poor personal hygiene and an attempted coup,” Celestia hid any irritation at being interrupted, “He certainly had no right to claim land in Rutherford’s name. I understand that he survived his fall from a cliff, but has been recalled to Yakyakistan. I rather doubt that we’ll be hearing from him again.” “Princess? Did you know this would happen when you sent me north?” “Oh no. There were rumours; nothing to justify pointing a Guard battalion at our most sensitive border. So I sent my very brilliant, very resolute student to investigate the area–as I did ask you to do, while you retrieved the gemstones–and deal with any situation as she saw fit. I do need you girls, both of you. Your talents and your trust, as I trust you.” -0- -0- “But, why didn’t the Princess warn you?” “She wanted to test me," Back at her new tower with Twilight, Sunset swigged her tea, "Or she thought I’d start a real war, with time to prepare. As it is, everypony’s furious with all Yaks now. Celestia's friendship treaty won’t be possible for years.” “Oh. Still, Celestia must have been pleased when she gave you this.” “You’re so optimistic, Twilight. Innocent, almost." Twilight certainly loved the ivory-stoned tower Sunset had received for her post-graduate studies' especially the room with books piled to the ceiling. She had referred to it as a heavenly idyll, and spent all her time there with Sunset, since her senior had returned from the north. “Sunset?” Twilight adjusted her glasses, nervously, “Have you heard, Trixie…?” “I know. Flash told me.” Sunset gazed into her cup sourly. She preferred coffee, but Celestia drank tea, “I suppose I’ll get blamed for that as well.” Trixie’s bullying of Moondancer had continued through second year, quietly enough that neither Twilight nor Sunset had noticed. It had all come out soon after third year began. Unable to quietly bear another year of insults, scorn and extortions, Moondancer had secretly used the Gift on Trixie’s hairspray, so that her prized silver mane resembled a very sick privet hedge. Twilight had spoken up for Moondancer, and Celestia had let her off with the lightest warning, citing ‘severe provocation’. Trixie had been enraged; she had ranted at all the teachers, and even Celestia herself, to no avail. So she had likewise taken matters into her own hooves. Fortunately, both Moondancer and Twilight had been trotting home late from the library. When a floating rope had yanked Moondancer from the path and dragged her whimpering through a copse, Twilight had plunged after her. She’d knocked Trixie out with a stun blast, as soon as she appeared. The blue filly had been poised with lot of rope, a lot of paint, a ball gag and a coat-clipper. Trixie had looked likely to fail her Third Year in any case. She took the option of voluntarily leaving the school as soon as given, defiant to the end; “None of you understood the greatness of Trixie anyway! Nopony in this school has the same flair for the Gift as I, but you failed to nurture my gifts, or give me training fit for my talents! You’ll rue the day you humiliated the great and powerful Trrr-ixie!” Her vanishment in a puff of smoke had been forestalled by a Guard, who'd thought she had a bomb. She had been frogmarched out, in a hysterical state. “It’s a shame,” Twilight mused, to Sunset, “She could be affable when she wanted, generous to ponies who liked her. She had her talents too. Book learning just wasn’t one of them, and I don’t think the teachers tried another way.” “In some ways, she was like me,” Sunset brooded, “I could have told her things, if I’d taken the chance, or known what to say. Or if she’d ever have listened. Celestia told me she was heading off the rails. She told me to stop her.” Twilight put down her teacup and went to Sunset, draping both forelegs over her shoulders. “You fought off a Yak army, Sunset. How is it that worries can beat you? I bet you smiled, all through that battle. Now you’ve got your latest prize, it’s nothing but more bad dreams. I think, whatever your future holds, you’re going to beat it. You’re an amazing pony. You’re a heroine.” “You know me so well...” Sunset grinned, and lowered her eyelids, “I’ve got another trip soon. You can use this place anytime while I’m gone.” “Thanks! Um, could I invite other ponies over as well?” “I guess. The first floor at least. While I’m gone.” Twilight may have known Sunset well, but she still did not know about the mirror, and would never ask. Sunset wouldn’t have put it past Lyra or Lemonhearts to inquire about the subject in front of Twilight, and that would only end with somepony getting hurt. Sunset continued to clean and tune an old guitar. Twilight watched her, pretending to read. It was moments like these, when rapt admiration lay bare in her junior’s eyes, that Sunset dreamt of those eyes flooded with horror and disgust. If Twilight ever learned that she had struck–tried to kill–her Princess and teacher, the pony she should have adored. -0- -0- “Well done, Sunset. You may not have saved Equestria on your trip to the Grittish Isles, but this golden mistletoe will be vital to Twilight’s new project. And I see you’ve also brought a box of their famous scones, with jam and, mmmm! clotted cream. Thank you. Would you care for one?” “No thanks, Princess. Too sweet for my taste.” Celestia and Sunset were alone in the Princess’s sitting room; Twilight was buried in the library ahead of midterms. The Princess took a minute to savour the scones, before asking Sunset if all was well. “You should know that I’m very pleased with your progress, Sunset. You’ve wonderfully encouraged Twilight’s growth, as a true friend should. Your post-graduate studies have already come so far, I hardly know how to challenge you!” “I could...forgive me, Princess.” “Not at all. Speak your mind.” “Princess, I’ve shown you that I can inspire ponies, lead them. Even be a friend. I…think you could give me a post of leadership, for a time, in the Royal Guards or in Canterlot. You’ve taught me much of the Gift, but if I’m not ready for more...there are other ways I can help Equestria and her ponies.” “Yes. You could be an excellent Guard Officer; you could excel in any field you chose. But an Equestrian Princess must develop her own original Gifting; you know this. Do not lose heart. You will be ready, soon.” “Princess...When?” “My dear Sunset. Remember what impatience once cost you.” “Yes. I remember,” Sunset’s ears twitched, an instant, before her body rose and stiffened, “Just tell me, please. How long will I have to pay for what I did? How long until we go back to the way we were?” “Sunset. One way or another, nothing ever returns to the way it was.” “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry…” “And I forgive you, Sunset. I forgave before you sought it, because you are my precious, beloved student–but redemption is something else. You must seek it yourself, though it cannot be earned. Perhaps it is a miracle of Lualus, beyond anything the Unicorn’s Gift might achieve.” Sunset stared into the fireplace, restraining an urge to scream. “I said sorry. Every pony I hurt in my First Year. I threw myself at their hooves; I did everything you told me. Diamond Broach was the only filly who wouldn’t say she forgave me. I suppose I hardly deserved it…but, all I did was scare her out of a Fall Formal crown! Should I do something more for her?” “On no. Her forgiveness is her own affair.” After a moment of silence, Celestia’s great eyes looked into Sunset’s “Twilight Sparkle looks up to you a great deal. Have you discussed your past with her?” “No, I mean yes!” Sunset fought to not look away, “Almost everything.” “Almost?” “She loves you, Princess. She’s an innocent, sweet filly; she’d never understand, she’d never forgive me. You don’t want that–” “If she does not forgive, Twilight is not the pony I took her for. If you can admit your greatest failure, to the pony whose love has gained you so much...you will be ready. Your studies will progress, with such direction and pace as you desire.” “Do you want me to bring you the Dragonlord’s sceptre?” Sunset’s vision fogged. Words spilt from her mouth like a broken pot, “The idol of Boreas, Orion’s crown, and Starswirl the Bearded’s favourite toothpick! I would find them all, and never see your face until I had, Princess. I’d scrub hay kitchen floors, for years! But I don’t want to sacrifice my best friend!” “Good, Sunset. Very good,” A grin of hope flashed over Sunset's lips, until Celestia smiled, sadly, “But exploits still greater would not prove you a good pony. Not to me, and not to yourself.” “I…! I’ve done bad things, but I’m not–a bad pony!” “Oh, Sunset.” The smile glowed with loving pity, ‘Bad things’?” “Princess, you said my sins were banished to the past!” Sunset heard the words burst out, “My past is not today!” “No. But it seems you must confront your past, to heal your present self. I’m sorry, Sunset. Any pony who would receive redemption must understand that they can never deserve it.” “T-then how, why should I ever…?” Celestia let out a millennial sigh that chilled her pupil's world. Then she smiled. “That is why all of us need friends, Sunset. Trust me; Twilight Sparkle is your friend.” -0- -0- “Sunset? Are you...okay?” “Yeah, sure. Why not?” Sunset pulled several books off a shelf, threw herself onto a chair, and tried to read. Twilight similarly occupied herself, as a light drizzle crackled off the ivory tower’s roof. Twilight finally put her book down, and breathed in like a diver on a cliff. “Sunset, you can talk to me about anything, you know?” “Yeah. Sure.” “Why didn’t you tell me you’d broken up with Starry Flash?” “Oh, yeah, nearly two months ago. Sorry, it didn’t seem worth mentioning.” “What?” Twilight crossed the room to Sunset’s side, “You went crazy over that love poison, but now he’s ‘not worth mentioning’? What does that mean?” “It just died a death, you know? He made this whole speech, how I was hardly around these days, I was a great mare, but ‘not what he was looking for’–I couldn’t believe his nerve, but that was that. Hey, now you can ask him out! If he hurts you, I’ll beat him into glue.” “Uh, thanks but no thanks. What about you, Sunset? What are you going to do to get him back?” “Nothing much–he didn’t break my heart. I’m going to be much more than the girl at school with perfect grades and a hot stallion. Maybe I’ll find another consort, or I’ll leave the mushy stuff to that bimbo Cadenza. And his grades had been dropping all this year–said his band was more important than perfect scores. You might say he was a flash in the pan.” Sunset stopped talking and looked at Twilight. She wasn’t fidgeting, at all–she was in deathly shock, Sunset realised, and something hard was growing in her eyes “…Princess Cadence was my foalsitter. I told you. She isn’t a bimbo.” “Oh, sorry, Twilight, I forgot...” “Starry Flash is a good pony, really good. I really cared about him–and I thought you did! How could you just practically let him go, when he was no more use to you?” Tears stood out in Twilight’s eyes. Perhaps it had been a schoolfilly crush–but if Sunset hadn’t known the depth of even Twilight's shallowest passions, she knew now. She sighed and stood to face her. “Twilight, I cared for him. Not so much as you did–” “It isn’t just him. You used Snips and Snails all the time. You didn’t care about Trixie, or Moondancer. I’m sorry, Sunset…why do you treat ponies like props you can use or ignore?” “I mean to become a Princess, Twilight.” Sunset spoke through clenched teeth, “That means eyes on the goal, above all else.” “But, Celestia always tells us, put other ponies above ourselves. I think, if you want to make her proud–” “Celestia is a Princess. I will put Equestria above myself, and pour out my blood for her, when I have got to where she is!” “No, Sunset, that’s not right!” Twilight almost looked shocked as Sunset, but righteous indignation drove her voice, “Selfless love comes from the heart; it wouldn’t magically appear with a crown and wings! As your friend, I, I even think it would be better you didn’t become a Princess, until–” “Just…be quiet, Twilight.” Sunset’s nostrils flared, ominously slow, “You don’t know a thing about friendship I didn’t teach you!” “Friendship must be easy,” Twilight’s voice was quiet, “When you care about nopony but yourself. That’s must be why Celestia favours me, why I have more than one friend–” The chair behind Twilight smashed into the wall. Sunset lowered her head, barely holding back. “Get out. Get out! Go and rot in a library, like the USELESS COWARD YOU ARE!” Twilight ran from the tower into the rain. She spent the rest of the evening weeping into Minuette’s neck, calling herself names, and trying feebly to invent a Technique for time travel. Sunset broke half-a-dozen quills trying to write a report on baking Techniques for Celestia, before reaching for her guitar. Two feeble notes were all that came. She hugged the instrument to her chest and slumped to the floor of her silent tower. Eventually, she fell asleep. -0- -0- Oh, Sunset. Why lie here, trembling and feeble? Why should that bookish fool bring you down–the most brilliant, worthy unicorn alive in this world? No. I’m a bad pony. A demon. She forgave me, so many sins–all for nothing, nothing, I’m nothing! I can’t help anypony. I don’t deserve a single friend! My dear Sunset, the strongest pony can do nothing, if they are forced to submit. Can you imagine Celestia abdicating her throne? She will frustrate you with useless tasks, until she has a pretext to destroy you. No! She forgave me… She will not do so again. Power is the stamp of a Princess, not enfeebling love. The power of your Gift, the path you must make for yourself. The only way to escape your past. Listen to me. As Sunset writhed, in the glistening blue fog, a black muzzle was lowered to her ear. Panting in anticipation, then whispering… -0- -0- Waking next morning, Sunset only recalled a rather pleasant dream. Lost in a vast herd of ponies, she had struck out like a swimmer to reach her goal. Twilight had been there, as the herd had warped and twisted, into insectile monsters–but she had burnt a path through. Trampling down the last two creatures, and routing their hideous queen, she had swept Twilight off her feet. Twilight had wept for her forgiveness, for all the vile things she had said… “Yeah. Not that simple,” The fiery unicorn sighed to herself, “Sunset, you stupid cow.” After cleaning up the broken chair, she spent the morning finding out obscure Techniques she knew her friend would love. She was trying to make an unconstrained apology to the mirror, when the knock came. The second thing Sunset saw outside was the shining sky; the dome-shield cast over the entire palace grounds. The first thing she saw was the Royal Guard squad led by Shining Armour. Twilight had gone on and on about her brother’s gentle kindness–but ‘huge muscular hotness’ had understandably not figured in her description. Sunset casually let her mane fall over one eye, and unleashed her most coquettish smile. “Captain. Congratulations on your promotion. To what do I owe this pleasure?” Twilight had also forborne to mention the fury that blazed from her brother's eyes. His horn crashed against Sunset’s; his words were arrows of ice. “You need to come with us, Sunset Shimmer. You need to answer some questions with the truth.” “I’m sure the Princess can–” “The Princess is attempting to treat two fillies who were attacked last night. My sister’s friends. You’re going to come with us, before I do anything I won’t regret.” Hours before the dawn, everypony in the dormitories had woken to Lemonhearts’ screams. She had been dragged to the infirmary thrashing and bucking. Trying to sink teeth into her fetlocks. And the first pony to leave the room for help had found Minuette, both forelegs broken, at the foot of the stairs. Twitching, in the death-spasm of nightmare that no death could end. Both had talked, before being placed in merciful comas. Only of what had been done to them, and that Sunset Shimmer had done it.