The Equestrian Historical Society Museum was small compared to other museums in Canterlot, occupying a large house that used to belong to Admiral Fairy Flight. Most of the items on display were knick-knacks and oddities, with a few larger paintings of historical scenes that had been loaned by Princess Celestia.
Cookie knew that it was usually empty, and the custodian didn’t bother to leave the front desk unless there was some kind of disturbance. And since Celestia’s sense of humor meant that she had loaned them the most historically accurate and important paintings in her collections—which only she and Cookie would ever realize—Cookie went there fairly often.
He was standing in front of one of those paintings, an untitled work usually called “A Late Party,” when he was joined by Twilight Sparkle. She paused to look at it with him before turning to look at him and then back at the painting.
Cookie smirked at her, an expression not unlike that of one of the six ponies in the painting, the one who not coincidentally shared his coloring, though the unnamed pony’s cutie mark was blocked by the grinning green unicorn mare leaning against him.
Twilight’s eyes widened. She whispered, “They don’t know who those ponies are?”
“Nopony does. Celestia and I agree that the shroud of mystery allows more ponies to see themselves in the Hearth’s Warming story.” He smiled at the familiar faces in the painting. “But yes, this is a good likeness.”
She studied the painting a while longer, a smile growing on her face. “It looks like you all were having a good time.”
“We had many.” He turned to focus on his companion, offering her a smile. “It’s good to see you again, Twilight.”
“It’s good to see you, Cookie.” She smiled with an excited light in her eyes. “Thank you for agreeing to talk to me!”
It had been a week and a half since they met for tea. They had decided their next meeting should be in Canterlot, to avoid raised eyebrows and talk from ponies around them in their respective small towns.
“It’s my pleasure.” He looked around the room where they stood, a grand foyer with a few pedestals scattered about containing an ink pot that had belonged to Hay Carts and General Custard’s shaving kit, among other similar items. “I hope you don’t mind the location. Ponies almost never come here, so we should have all of the privacy we need.”
“I don’t mind at all. I used to love to come here.” She nodded to a door to the left. “The Star Swirl room is number 23 on my list of the best places to read in Canterlot.”
Cookie chuckled and turned toward the indicated door. “Well then, why don’t we start there?”
He led the way, and they entered what had once been a parlor. There were some sitting cushions in the middle of the floor for guests to relax on as they viewed the large paintings on the walls: Star Swirl befriending Scorpan, Star Swirl banishing the sirens, and Star Swirl teaching Celestia and Luna.
An entranced joy appeared on Twilight’s face as she slowly spun around to take in each painting. When she came back to the point where Cookie stood grinning, she gave an embarrassed smile. “Um, Star Swirl was an amazing pony.”
Cookie nodded. “He was. I was never close with him, but to hear Clover talk he was constantly doing something nearly impossible that was likely to end the world, and yet the world never ended.” Remembering his audience, he added, “She was his lover, you know.”
Twilight’s eyes went wide. “She… I didn’t know Star Swirl had…”
Cookie motioned to the cushions and walked over to sit down. “Not when she was young, but after Equestria was founded, when he returned. His talent and intellect drove her mad in every way.”
Sitting next to him, Twilight tilted her head in companionable curiosity. “What was she like?”
Cookie pictured Clover in his mind, and it brought a smile to his face. “Clover was a down to earth, no-nonsense mare with a weary, teasing sense of humor. She studied hard and had no time for fools, but she had a warmth to her like a favorite quilt—not fit for company and frayed around the edges, but exactly what you’d want to relax on a cold night.”
Twilight was smiling as he spoke, occasionally glancing at the pictures of Star Swirl as if in a daydream. It gave Cookie an idea.
He looked at a painting and watched her out of the corner of his eye. “You asked me before what the first Hearth’s Warming was like, so perhaps I could tell you about Clover in light of that…”
“Okay.” Twilight nodded, giving him her full attention and settling into the cushions.
He took a deep breath and leaned back, closing his eyes to focus on putting the correct information in the correct order. “Clover loved magic, and she was very bright. She became Star Swirl’s apprentice as a young mare, back in Monoceros. It was a prestigious position, but she never cared for that. She only cared that she would study with the greatest master of magic alive. Of course, I didn’t know Clover at that age, but when Celestia was telling me of a talented, dedicated student she had taken, and her high hopes for young Twilight, I admit I couldn’t help imagining Clover in the same light, entering her studies with Star Swirl.”
Opening one eye, he watched Twilight. She grinned at him, though he wasn’t sure if it was at the compliment or the thought of common ground.
Cookie went on, “Then, Star Swirl was called away, and he left Clover to her studies in the royal castle.” The smile faded from his face, replaced by a tense frown. “Remember, Clover was ill-equipped for a life in a royal court. She cared little for politics or connections, so those fell to the side. And not thinking to bite her tongue, her sense of humor probably earned her more enemies than friends.
“It wasn’t long before she arrived at her tower one morning to find it had been made into a parlor for one of Platinum’s Ladies in Waiting. Her effects had been tossed rather unceremoniously into a dark, dank room next to the dungeons. From then on, her announcements of breakthroughs and advancements were ignored, her requests for funds or materials were laughed at, and even the castle’s servants treated her as a pony to be avoided, lest her poor reputation rub off on them.”
He glanced at Twilight. An offended frown had settled on her face.
“But she was a student of Star Swirl the Bearded!” She motioned to the paintings.
Cookie nodded. “If Star Swirl had returned, he would have put things right. Though she admitted that she almost dreaded it, fearing he’d be ashamed of her failure and officially dismiss her.”
Twilight cringed in sympathy.
He looked down and drew a breath. “But before that could happen, the weather changed. It started growing colder, and word came that earth pony harvests had been too poor to pay their tribute. You know the Windigos had found us, but to the tribes at the time it just seemed as if the weather had gone mad. The pegasi swore they had nothing to do with it, and nopony believed them. The earth ponies swore they had no food to share past what would keep their own ponies alive, and nopony believed them.”
He shook his head slowly at the memories and continued, “Clover was called on by Platinum to tell them what was happening. If she’d had an answer, she might have been hailed as a great mage. That she had no idea where to start was considered proof of her uselessness at the castle, and of course the rest of us didn’t believe that the unicorns didn’t secretly have the answer to everything. Her position could hardly have sunk lower, and she took the failure hard, considering herself a waste of space, unworthy of being Star Swirl’s student.”
“Poor Clover.” Twilight whispered. He looked up to see her frowning in thought, ears drooping. She went on, “I—I don’t know what I would have done.”
He gave a sad shrug. “Probably very much what Clover did. Scrape by and study harder looking for some sliver of information. When the unicorns packed up and moved, she went with them rather than freeze in a castle alone. When the other tribes were discovered nearby, she was selected to accompany Platinum to meet the other leaders at a neutral location. She was to provide magical defense if Hurricane made it necessary, as it was thought her presence wouldn’t provoke him as a guard’s might…
“I first saw her plodding behind Platinum, her head down, as if she hoped to be forgotten as long as she made no eye contact. Platinum seemed happy to assist her in that endeavour; she was embarrassed to be seen with her. As our superiors argued us into oblivion, Clover buried her nose in a scroll under a tree.” He closed his eyes again and heaved a frustrated sigh, lost in the memory.
Twilight pursed her lips and shook her head sadly. “I… I knew the leaders of the tribes weren’t the nicest ponies, but I never thought a pony like Clover the Clever had been treated so badly.”
Cookie looked up at Twilight with a sad smile. “I came to love Platinum and Hurricane and Puddinghead too well to think they ever had any malice towards us or desire for our humiliation. They simply had no use for Clover or Pansy or me. Platinum supported ponies who were well-mannered and decorous, and Clover never in her life tried to be those things. Hurricane was a soldier through and through, and Pansy was about as useful in military life as her namesake. Puddinghead was a pony of base pleasures and simple plans, who led by telling ponies what to do and shouting at them if they asked her why, and I never was capable of keeping my mouth shut and doing as I was told…”
Twilight looked at him, biting her lip, as if there was a sensitive question she didn’t want to ask.
Cookie nodded, looking her in the eye. “Going into that cave, Pansy and I were no better off than Clover. Utter failures, scorned by most of our own tribes.” He paused, but didn’t look away.
He went on softly, “You asked what it was like, when the spell was cast. The cave was dark, nothing but bare stone and ice and freezing cold in a way I’ve never felt since. The end was at hoof, and the three ponies who huddled for warmth had no hope that we might survive, and the glaring corpses of our superiors reminded us that we had no reason to wish for it.”
He could see the true fear in Twilight’s eyes—probably the first time she had felt it when hearing the Hearth’s Warming story, if she was like most ponies.
“But we had reason to wish for ponies who would respect us, and feel compassion for us, and share in our miseries and offer a bit of joy before the end. That desire was stronger than tribes, and what we found was stronger than all of our failures put together. Out of the cold emptiness of what was most assuredly death, there was a flash of white light, and a warm, magical fire, and all of the joy we’d ever known simply because we were not only alive, but together.”
Cookie smiled, and the smile returned to Twilight’s face as well as they moved towards more familiar ground.
He relaxed and finished the story. “When the others were thawed, we told them in no uncertain terms the cause of their good fortune and the path we would forge together. The three of us stood united, and Platinum, Puddinghead, and Hurricane could see by our insistence, by the magic in the cave, and by their own living flesh that we were driven by something that would be foolish to reckon with. So they embraced it, and us, and from then on the six of us were fast friends for all of our differences.”
Twilight shook her head slowly. “Wow. I wish everypony knew this version of the story.”
“Clover and Pansy and I never liked to talk about it.” Cookie shifted and looked down. “Even during our lifetimes, Hearth’s Warming was a happy time to celebrate friendships, our good fortune, and the nation we’d founded. Asking ponies to dwell on the more unfortunate parts seemed… not in the spirit of the day.”
“I can see that, but I know next year I’m going to remember it.” She glanced at the doorway. “And I think I might look around myself more carefully, to make sure there aren’t ponies who feel that way now.”
“Then I’m glad I told you.” Cookie smiled. “Would you like to look at the rest of the museum? I have a feeling you’re far less familiar with the other rooms.”
Twilight grinned and got to her hooves. “It has been a long time since I looked around. Something about three glorious paintings of Star Swirl doing amazing things always seems to distract me.”
They made their way through a set of double doors beneath the painting of Star Swirl, Celestia, and Luna, and into a larger room with a glass case against one wall. It held pieces of pottery from throughout pony history, none especially rare or interesting and there being no attempt at pretending they were.
Cookie stopped by the first piece in the display anyway. It was a brown jug, and the small note next to it read “Earth Pony Stoneware — circa 100 B.E.”
Twilight walked up next to him, and he nodded to it. “Probably from Girthshire. That’s where I was born. It was the central trade city of the earth ponies, before the Windigos chased us to Equestria.”
“Do you know where it was?” Twilight glanced at him with an eager amusement in her eyes. “Nopony has ever been able to locate the remains of those cities.”
Cookie nodded. “There’s a good reason for that. Not many ponies go digging around in the Badlands.”
Twilight looked at the case, deep in thought. “How bad were things between the tribes before that? I know they were separate, and the tensions between them attracted the Windigos, but… I just can’t imagine ponies waking up every morning thinking, ‘boy, I hate those pegasi’ when they knew they were thousands of different ponies.”
Cookie frowned. “I’ll answer you in all honesty...but understand I offer no excuses, simply explanation so that you might understand how so many supposedly reasonable ponies got their heads planted so firmly under their own tails.”
“Okay…”
“Speaking for myself, I never hated pegasi or unicorns.” He raised his eyebrows at Twilight. “I simply knew that feather brains were stupid brutes who blindly followed their orders without reason or sense and that stick heads were pompous, lazy snobs who’d stab other ponies in the back without a stray thought. I never hated them any more than I hated a wolf or a wasp.” He frowned and looked at the pottery in the case. “In turn, I have it on good authority that mud ponies were simple minded, stubborn louts with an awful smell and worse manners.”
“Stick heads?” Twilight raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound as mean as the other two.”
“It was from an old joke: Why do unicorns have horns on their heads? Because the stick up their rear end goes all the way through.” He gave her a grim smile.
Twilight rolled her eyes.
“You aren’t laughing.” Cookie shook his head. “Just like a stick head, can’t take a joke.”
“Not jokes like that,” she said with a disapproving look.
“Ah, perhaps this one is more your style: what’s the best way to pick a fight with a feather brain?” He paused, then answered himself, “Find one.”
Twilight frowned.
Cookie raised his eyebrows. “What’s the first thing a mud pony wife says when her husband comes in from the rain? ‘Who are you?’”
She shook her head sadly. “Didn’t that hurt, knowing ponies were thinking about you like that?”
The grim smile returned to Cookie’s face. “There’s the choice, you see. You can be hurt that somepony you might respect, somepony who might be a friend, would call you a stick head.” He arched an eyebrow. “Or you can brush it off, knowing that it’s just the opinion of a mud pony.”
Understanding flashed in Twilight’s eyes. “And if it’s just a…” She hesitated, looking at Cookie.
He smiled. “Go on…”
After a barely noticeable drawing of strength, she said the word, “a mud pony, joking about how bad they are might make me feel better.”
Cookie nodded. “That was the dark magic of it. With each joke, each slur, each act of casual disdain the subject was degraded and the speaker was distrusted. By the time a pony was grown, you knew the only ponies who could be trusted, the only ponies who saw you as a pony, were your own tribe. And in turn, they were the only ponies worthy of your respect.”
“And of course, from there it was natural to want to warn and protect your own tribe.” He frowned, glancing at Twilight. “A pony on my street growing up used to deliver produce to the unicorns, and one of the maids from the castle came by to bring her some cast off clothes. The young stallions all came out and stared down the unicorn until she left without seeing the girl.”
Twilight stared at him, her mouth in a firm, serious line. “Were you one of the stallions who did that?”
Cookie looked her in the eye and nodded slowly. “Awful, isn’t it? We thought we were protecting one of our own.”
“From clothes,” Twilight said, her voice dripping with contempt. “From generosity.”
“From a stick head who could never respect her. Who must be planning to do something magic to her that she wouldn’t dare attempt on one of her own, or using her to get better a better deal for produce. There was no reason we could imagine for a unicorn to simply be nice to an earth pony.” He raised his eyebrows. “We couldn’t imagine a friendship between tribes.”
Twilight considered that and nodded. “Until you had nothing else to lose, and nothing to offer except friendship, and a unicorn and a pegasus came through for you. And you came through for them, in the end.”
“Exactly.” Cookie smiled, glancing at the jug in the case one last time. “I’m very glad you couldn’t imagine it. It’s a testament to Equestria.”
“And you.” Twilight smiled and started out of the room. “You helped found Equestria.”
“I must credit Celestia more than myself. I had a dream, but she’s the one who’s made sure it was realized.” He smiled as they left the pottery behind for a hallway lined with windows on one side, overlooking a garden.
“Well, of course.” Twilight nodded. “But she’s Princess Celestia. You were just normal ponies, then.”
Cookie chuckled. “You know, when I met her she was no older than you are now, with no more idea how to rule a nation than you have.” He tilted his head and studied Twilight. “What would you do, I wonder?”
“What do you mean?”
Cookie noticed a door to the museum’s garden and opened it, gesturing outside. Twilight walked out into the garden and he followed, taking a breath of fresh air after the confines of the museum.
“If you were given the crown of Equestria tomorrow. What would be the philosophy of your rule?”
The garden was well tended in the Canterlot style, stiff and formal with pruned hedges and neat beds of flowers. He knew from past visits that each flower was an heirloom variety, with a plaque noting the pony whose family had tended it into the present.
Twilight shook her head, selecting a sunny patch of grass next to a hedgerow for a place to sit. “I don’t know. I’ve been involved in some diplomacy, and organized a friendship summit, and defended Equestria from threats, but… I wouldn’t know when to direct guards, or what to do about taxes, or appointing judges…”
“Well, let’s begin with this. What is Equestria?” Cookie asked as he joined her on the soft, even grass.
Twilight thought for a moment with a frown, then rattled off, “A nation of about a hundred million ponies. The largest nation in the world. The place where I live. Home to a hundred and nineteen varieties of apples.”
Cookie tilted his head at the last one.
She smiled and shrugged. “One of my best friends is an apple farmer. I know a lot of facts about apples.”
Cookie chuckled. “A fascinating subject, I’m sure. But are those things what Equestria is? If you began another nation someplace else, the largest nation in the world, settled by ponies, with exactly the same kinds of apples, would that alone make it Equestria?”
She shook her head. “No. I see what you’re asking me.” She considered for longer this time, then answered slowly, “Equestria is… all of the different things in it. Ponyville and Manehattan and Canterlot and the Everfree forest. And the ponies who live in those places, or go there, or stay away.”
“Then I can’t take credit for founding Equestria.” Cookie raised his eyebrows. “Manehattan and Canterlot were founded hundreds of years later, and Ponyville is so new that I’ve actually never been.”
Twilight gave him a gentle smile. “Well, the Equestria you founded isn’t exactly the same as the one I was born in, is it? In the Equestria you founded, ponies would have still thought of me as a stick head, even if you all rejected it and moved past that. But to ponies today, the fact that I was born in Canterlot means more than that I was born a unicorn.”
Cookie nodded. “Quite true. Of course, Canterlot is known as a unicorn city.”
“I reread Descent of Canterlot before I came here.” Twilight pursed her lips. “I do see your point… I mean, knowing it was you, it made perfect sense. There’s a danger in that way of thinking. But I don’t think that’s the biggest danger of that kind in Equestria today…”
He tilted his head. “Then what is? Other species?”
She gestured to the well tended, orderly garden. “The places themselves. Like I said, ponies would care more that I was born in Canterlot than that I was born a unicorn. I’ll never be called a stick head, but I have been accused of being a snob because of where I’m from. And at the same time, some ponies in Canterlot look down on Ponyville ponies as backwards and having bad manners, whether they’re earth ponies or unicorns. The same is true across Equestria, from Manehattan to Appleloosa. Ponies do things differently in each city and town, and they think the things other ponies do are weird, so they call them names and try to exclude them, even ponies who would never say anything about the type of pony somepony is.”
“Interesting observation…” Cookie raised his eyebrows, considering that. The gardens did make a fine example; Cookie would guess they were tended by an earth pony gardener, as most gardens were, yet they were quite different from his own practical little patch in Rainbow Falls. And, he had to admit, it was easy for him to judge these sculpted hedges and manicured lawns as flawed.
Twilight nodded. “That’s it, I think. That would be my philosophy as Princess of Equestria, with Princess Celestia’s job. That whatever differences exist between ponies, or other beings who live here, we’re all Equestrian. It’s all of those differences that make this Equestria, and we should celebrate them, not use them to divide ponies.”
Cookie grinned and gave a firm nod. “Well done. I would support you wholeheartedly.”
“Thank you.” Twilight smiled, a blush coloring her cheeks.
“I might even try to travel more, to see how often I observe it myself.” He looked into the distance in thought, and added, “I’m certainly going to mention it to Celestia, if I do.”
“If you’re traveling, you should stop by Ponyville.” Twilight grinned. “I’d love to show you around and introduce you to my friends… however you want to be introduced.”
Cookie looked at her and smiled. “Perhaps I will. If they’re all ponies of your caliber, I’d love to meet them.”
Twilight hesitated, her brow furrowing. “I’m… not sure what you mean by that. We’re very different ponies…”
“Of course you are. I don’t expect them all to be princesses, or as learned as you. What I mean is that there’s a spirit to some ponies, an openness that ensures you’re going to have an interesting conversation about some subject, whatever it might be.” Cookie gave a wistful sigh, the smile still on his face. “Ponies one could talk to late into the night are rare, and to be treasured for that.”
Grinning, Twilight nodded. “Now I think I know what you mean. And I think you’ll like my friends. That’s actually how I met them. I wasn’t the best at making friends, but they all opened up to me and helped me even when I didn’t know I needed it.”
“Luna’s return, yes,” he said with a thoughtful frown. “May I ask you, what did you think of using the Elements of Harmony? Were you afraid of holding something that powerful?”
Twilight shrugged. “Honestly, I didn’t know much about them before I used them. I just found out they were the thing that would stop Nightmare Moon, and since she returned I had to get them.”
Cookie raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t consider that they were an immensely powerful weapon?”
She thought about that. “Well, I did, but I was facing a pony who had defeated Princess Celestia. I needed a powerful weapon, I was just a pony.”
He nodded and studied her. “And afterwards you gave them back to Celestia.”
“Of course.” Twilight smiled. “I thought I wasn’t going to be facing anything like that again… it didn’t quite work out that way.” Her smile softened, and she furrowed her brow. “You know, it’s funny, now that I think about it…”
“Hmm?” Cookie raised an eyebrow.
She stared off into the distance as she went on, “Well, we returned the Elements to the Tree of Harmony a while ago. We had to, to get Princess Celestia and Princess Luna back from the vines that were taking over Equestria. But, we were barely worried that we were giving up a weapon, even though that was the whole reason we went to get them in the first place. We were more worried that we were giving up a symbol of our friendship. That was silly, of course, but it’s strange that we didn’t think more about the weapon thing.” She finished with a shrug. “There were just more important things going on.”
Cookie smiled at her. “I find that admirable.”
“Well, they might have come in handy after that, but we didn’t really need them. The magic comes from our friendships, not from the stones.” She laughed and motioned to him. “You, of all ponies, should know that.”
“I suppose that’s true, though to be honest I never thought about it much.” He smiled sheepishly. “Magic has always been a bit of a blind spot for me.”
“You should learn more about it. Even if you can’t cast spells yourself, it might help you to advise Princess Celestia.”
“That’s a very good point.” Cookie laughed. “I suppose I could find some books for unicorn foals that might be about my speed.”
“I’d be happy to explain some basic things to you. I could even see if Applejack and Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy want to come!” A grin grew on her face, then quickly shifted as she rolled her eyes. “And Pinkie, but… it’s hard explaining things like that around her.”
“She has difficulty keeping up?” Cookie asked.
Twilight gave a dry smile. “No, she keeps breaking the laws of magic. I’m sure I’d be explaining how it’s not possible to use a spell to predict the future and her Pinkie Sense would go off, and Applejack would raise an eyebrow at me and I’d have to explain about magical anomalies and unexplained phenomena. Then I’d have to explain what ‘anomalies’ and ‘phenomena’ mean for AJ and Rainbow Dash, and by then…” Twilight sighed, smiling fondly. “Some ponies just make life complicated, you know?”
Cookie laughed. “I do know. I’m afraid I’m often one of those ponies myself. And I’m sure it would be fascinating, whether Pinkie is there or not.”
Her smile faded to a thoughtful expression, and her head tilted. “Can I ask you something?”
Cookie’s smile faded as well, and he looked away at a neat garden lined with white rocks. “How serious is it going to be? I know you have some very serious questions to ask, and I’d like to be prepared.”
“Not that serious, I think...” Twilight said gently.
He nodded and smiled at her. “Go right ahead.”
“Why did you have me and Cadance to tea the other day? Cadance has been a princess for a long time, and I’ve been one for a few years now.” She gave a slight shrug. “I can’t figure out why we didn’t get to meet you before, but we do now.”
Cookie looked back to the garden, at the evenly spaced red petunias. “That question is far more serious than you know.”
“I’m sorry.”
He sighed. “I never introduced myself before because I didn’t want you or Cadance investigating my immortality.” Glancing back to Twilight, he added, “You might recall that I got a little testy when you probed me about that at tea, and I apologize for that again.”
She nodded. “That’s okay.”
“I’ll explain why…” He swallowed, looking her in the eye. “But you may hate me for it.”
Twilight smiled and shook her head. “I’m sure—”
“It would be your right,” Cookie said firmly. He shook his head and looked down at the grass. “There’s a chance—a likely chance, I’m told—that my longevity is because Celestia and I love each other. It may be simply that, or something we did or spoke once that enacted a love spell. We don’t know, and I don’t want to find out. And, of course, these days it could be detected fairly easily.”
“Cadance might be able to tell in a few seconds.” Twilight nodded, and added, “I would need to do some research…”
Cookie smirked. “So it might take you a full ten minutes.”
“A few days, at least.” Twilight giggled. Then her expression slowly changed to confusion, followed by a nervous worry, before settling in a somber, questioning face directed at Cookie.
He nodded and drew a breath. “And, now you’re realizing the implications as it affects you. If it is some kind of spell, it could easily preserve your brother’s life, along with whomever you choose to love one day. I’m sure it seems monstrously selfish. Perhaps it is, perhaps I’m the only pony who might worry about this…”
“About what?” Her voice was gentle, without accusation.
Cookie bit his lip. “I fear that knowing would destroy my relationship with Celestia, and me in the process. That it would turn our love into a trap; that she couldn’t help but wonder if I only loved her because it continued my life, and I would never know if her love was simply kindness and mercy, being unwilling to take the life of an innocent pony because her passion had faded. I would torture myself with these thoughts, until I killed the very love that kept me alive. It’s an existence I wouldn’t wish on the beings in Tartarus.”
Twilight frowned deeply, examining a painful decision. “I think I understand. I—I would be worried about doing that to a pony I loved, if I was responsible for them. I would want to, but I know I can get a little… obsessive.”
Cookie raised his eyebrows. “Would you watch them wither and die, instead, knowing you could save them?”
“I don’t know,” she said, the frown barely shifting. “If you can act to save a pony and don’t, aren’t you... basically killing that pony?”
“I don’t know. I may be doing that now.” Cookie sighed. “Yet, if I were to know the truth, it might be that other ponies would wish to avoid it entirely, and my sacrifice would lead only to my destruction and death and a loveless future for all of you.”
Twilight nodded. “But by not knowing, you’re making that decision for ponies who might not worry about it like we would. That’s not right either.”
“Of course not,” Cookie agreed. “But we must have some point at which we exclude others from our considerations, to some extent. Ponies have a right to preserve their own life and happiness before extending generosity to others.”
“But does that apply when another pony's life is at stake?” Twilight raised an eyebrow at him.
“Is immortality to be thought of as a life or death decision?” Cookie raised both eyebrows back. “Nearly every pony in the world would still be denied it, and while on the whole it’s a blessing, it’s not without its serious consequences.”
Twilight opened her mouth to answer, then closed it in a frown. She looked down and shook her head. “I’d have to think about this.”
Cookie looked at the poor pony, under the weight he knew too well. He chuckled to himself. “We make an awful pair of ponies, don’t we?” With a wan smile, he added, “So you see why I don’t want to know the answer.”
Looking up, Twilight tilted her head. “What does Princess Celestia think?”
“She thinks I worry too much. That I should have faith in our love, and that when she comes to sit with me in the evening I would easily recognize the truth of our feelings, and over time I would find other occupations for my more annoying impulses.” He sighed. “And she may be right, she’s calmed my fears many times in the past.”
Twilight nodded and smiled. “She’s good at that. When I’m worried, she always seems to know how to make me feel better.”
Cookie raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s the most capricious weapon in her arsenal.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, furrowing her brow.
“It’s a bandage.” Cookie pursed his lips. “Sometimes, that’s all a worry needs—”
“And sometimes the bride really is a changeling,” Twilight finished, nodding knowingly.
“Or their jealousy is truly a danger to Equestria,” Cookie added. “Some problems require more than a cup of tea and a calming smile to truly fix, and it’s bitten her in the tail more than once. But it does work more often than not, and she bears so much weight that it’s hard to fault her missteps.”
Twilight frowned. “But if your life depends on her, a mistake like that could…” she trailed off, unwilling to finish.
“Yes.” Cookie glanced at Twilight with raised eyebrows. “And more than that, she would pay for it dearly. I can accept that I may die, if that was the only price, but it would torture her to think she caused it.”
They were quiet for a long time. Finally, Cookie sighed. “I fear there’s no answer here.”
“There’s always an answer,” Twilight said automatically.
Cookie smiled and shook his head. “You show your youth.”
Twilight raised her eyebrows and smiled back. “My youth has figured out some pretty sticky situations.”
“Touché.” Cookie chuckled. “Well, if you can find a solution to this puzzle, you’ll have my undying gratitude. Literally.”
She nodded. “Let me think about it.”
“Do me a favor and try not to think too much about it.” Cookie smiled. “Clover used to accuse me of getting inside my own head, thinking about things endlessly until I can hardly keep track of the thoughts, let alone the world around me. I’m well inside my own head on this, and were she alive, she’d be furious at me if I started passing it along to other ponies.”
Twilight just looked at him, studying his face. She smiled, but after a moment it grew tense and she looked down at the grass, smoothing it with a hoof. “Can I ask you… a very serious question now?”
“You’re already familiar with the inside of your own head, aren’t you?” Cookie’s smile turned sad. “You hardly need ask. I understood you perfectly when I misspoke at tea. Had somepony said the same to me I would have had the same reaction.”
She glanced at him with a small, grateful smile.
He took a deep breath. “It hurts. In the months around when they died… on a scale of misery where one is breaking a favorite tea pot, and ten is facing death in an icy wasteland and knowing that your entire life has been futile, there were days when it neared a nine. The guilt was the worst of it. There was simply no convincing me that my continued existence wasn’t a grave injustice to the ponies I loved most.”
She gave a somber nod, and asked quietly, “Was it worse for some of them? Was it better when more of them were around?”
“They were each their own private form of Tartarus.” Cookie closed his eyes. “Platinum was the first of us to go. She was bright and lively up to her last day, and then she simply… wasn’t there. And with that my position became all too real, and I truly understood what I had to fear. Clover and I were always close, and losing her was like losing half of my mind. Hurricane was a pony of stone —he hardly changed in his whole life—so it was impossible to think he was gone. Pansy died, and the last of those who’d formed the spell with me was gone… without her came the nightmare of being alone in that cave. It terrified me for months. And then Puddinghead died, and I lost a part of who I was. She had been next to me thought all of it, from Girthshire to Equestria, and she was the last to go. I had never felt so alone.”
“But you weren’t really alone.” Twilight looked to him hopefully.
“Of course not,” he agreed. “I knew many ponies, and I had Celestia at my side. And you’ll always have Celestia and Cadance and Luna and myself.”
Twilight nodded. “And I’ll have Spike for a long time. He’s a dragon. And…” She rolled her eyes. “I guess I’ll have Discord. I’m not sure that counts.”
Cookie frowned and said sharply, “I can’t imagine it does.”
Twilight raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. “It… sounds like you and Discord don’t get along?”
“I had a bit of an experience during his first attempt to overthrow Celestia.” His face grew dark. “I saw his true nature, and even if he’s no longer a threat, he’s not a being I would willingly associate with.”
Twilight nodded. “I can understand that. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of reforming him at first, either. But even Discord deserves friendship, if we can show him how to give it to other ponies.”
Cookie gave a grim smile. “I look forward to debating you on that point some other time.” His face softened. “But yes, there will be other ponies and beings there for you. And sometimes you’ll remember that and take comfort. Other times you will feel even more alone around them, as if they can’t possibly understand the guilt and loss you feel. And some of them, like Celestia, probably won’t.”
“Why not?” Twilight asked, confused. “I know Princess Celestia has lost ponies over the years.”
“Yes, but she knew she would. Since she was born, every pony she’s ever befriended was assumed to be temporary. Oh, she treasures the ponies she loves—I know first hoof—but she’s always prepared... I’d imagine you’re like me: you made friends assuming that you’d all have more or less the same, give or take a decade. To have suddenly found that you won the prize in a game that nopony knew you were playing, and that the rest of your friends must pay for their loss with their lives…” Cookie swallowed a lump in his throat.
Twilight’s ears drooped, and she nodded, looking at the grass.
Cookie leaned over and patted her hoof. “The only comfort I can offer is that it never hurts as much as the first time around. You’ll have more wonderful friends in your life, but you’ll be prepared the second time and all the times thereafter.”
She looked to him with a sad smile. “At least… at least I’ll know you understand.”
He nodded. “I will, though I’m not sure I have any answers for it.”
They sat in silence for a moment, save for the occasional tweets of a bird or rumble of a carriage passing on the other side of the hedge.
He drew a breath and smiled at her. “Now, for the slightly less depressing news. It does fade. You realize that if you’re going to continue living, you might as well get on with it. Fond memories win out, and if there’s sometimes an ache you remember what a small price that is for the memories.”
With a sigh, he added, “And believe me, those memories are the most valuable thing you’ll ever possess.”
Cookie couldn’t look down, and he couldn’t move.
He’d seen her there as he approached the bier in the center of the throne room, surrounded by flowers. He knew the flag of Equestria was draped over her. He knew what Clover looked like. But if he looked down, she’d be dead. And he’d still be alive, always, remembering that she was dead.
An eternity where Clover was dead. An eternity without feeling her shove him at a joke, or frown at him as he started rambling. An eternity without her smirk, or her sigh. He started to feel like there wasn’t enough left in the world without her, like the world was a pantry with most of the food missing. Certainly there were still some things in the world, Celestia, his remaining friends, other ponies... but if he was looking for Clover, she would never be there.
He could see Celestia across the room, standing by her throne, speaking to some mages from foreign lands who had come to pay their respects. Tonight his thoughts would be hers to bear, but for now he had to carry the weight himself. And he could, just about, as long as he didn’t move and didn’t look down.
The feeling of feathers draped across his back startled him. A rough, strong wing half led and half shoved him away from the bier.
“That’s enough of that.” Hurricane didn’t look at him, but didn’t remove his wing as he took Cookie out of the throne room and down a hall to the council chamber. He gave Cookie a gentle push inside and shut the door.
Cookie walked to the council table of his own accord and sat at the foot with heavy sigh. This was Clover’s spot. It gave her room for her scrolls. But she wouldn’t be there, there’d be some new unicorn, and who knew if she’d have any scrolls. He decided it was his spot now.
Hurricane sat down at his left and pulled a small glass bottle from under his wing. The top pulled apart into two small cups, and he opened the bottle and filled them with a clear liquid.
“Raindew.” He slid one cup to Cookie, barely glancing at him. “It’s distilled rainbow. Earth ponies might be master brewers, but if you don’t care about taste this is the strongest stuff in Equestria.”
Cookie looked at it, then downed the drink. His throat burned like he’d swallowed coals, and coughing did nothing as the liquid was in his stomach already. He decided it needed to remain there, since the alternative was the only conceivable thing worse than the taste in his mouth.
Hurricane downed his and looked at the empty cup. “Pegasi soldiers used to be issued a flask of raindew when they left for their first deployment. Some ponies drank it before battle, so they could face the enemy without flinching. Some ponies drank it when they were injured, to take the pain away. But the best of ponies never drank theirs, so their comrades could drink a toast to them if they fell. They knew there’s no pain in life like losing a friend.”
“That’s beautiful,” Cookie said with a nod. He could feel a warmth spreading through his body.
“Of course, Clover would’ve been another kind, who took a nip every now and again and told the quartermaster their flask leaked to get a top off.” He chuckled and filled their cups again. “Maybe not the best of ponies, but the wisest. And no doubt there’d be something left for her friends.”
Cookie looked down at the cup and then raised it, which seemed like less of a bad idea than all logic told him it should be. He gave Hurricane a sad smile. “I’ll drink to that.”
Hurricane raised his glass, and the downed them together. Everything about it was ever-so-slightly better this time, and he managed to hide his cough with a grunt.
Looking at the bottle, Hurricane sighed. “I know you and I didn’t always see eye to eye, but someday you’ll have my flask. Drink to me.”
The thought of Hurricane gone as well crashed down on Cookie, and he ran a hoof over his face to keep from crying. “Blessed darkness, Hurricane. Please…” With his eyes covered with a hoof, he sighed. “You know I will. You’re a brother to me.”
“And you’re a brother to me, Smart Cookie. More than any comrade I ever fought with.” He gave a dry chuckle. “It’s right, I suppose. The world turned around on me.”
“What do you mean?” Cookie took a deep breath and removed his hoof, raising his eyebrows at Hurricane.
He wrinkled his brow, looking at the ceiling as if searching for words. “I’m of the old world. So is Puddinghead, and Platinum was as well. We were solid and sharp and made to protect the things around us. Clover and you and Pansy, you were the new.” He frowned and looked down at his cup. “You three built Equestria, not out of land and houses, but out of ideas. That charter. Words stuffed in scrolls and spoken to ponies. Poking about and understanding magic and ponies and thoughts. As soon as we stepped out of that cave, it was you three the rest of us were trying to keep up with.”
“And you, Cookie…” He smiled and snorted. “You’re a soldier for this world. You saw the battles that needed fighting, you took up the spear and led the way. And even if you’ve lost your share… you fought them. And stars willing, you’re going to keep fighting them.”
Cookie felt his face flush, perhaps at the highest compliment Hurricane might have ever given a pony in his life, or perhaps at the raindew coursing through his veins. He smiled at Hurricane. “If it makes you feel better, I wouldn’t have done near as much fighting if I hadn’t been butting up against you. Even in the realm of words and ideas, you do the pegasi proud.”
Hurricane refreshed both cups and raised his. “Then may there always be ponies hard headed enough to keep your spear sharp.”
“I’ll drink to that, but none will be your equal.” Cookie downed his drink with little trouble this time, which he knew would have been worrying if he’d still been capable of worry. “I only ask the stars that someday I meet a pony who half lives up to any of you.” He sighed. “I can’t believe Clover is gone.”
Hurricane gave a sympathetic nod. “What’s to happen to the library?”
Cookie found he had to search his mind for the information, though he’d heard it a dozen times today alone. “Celestia is taking it…” He nodded to himself. “She intends to keep the school open.”
Hurricane gave a snort. “Doesn’t that mare have enough on her plate?”
“She’s hoping to entice Luna.” He rolled his eyes and gave Hurricane a smirk. “She thinks if Luna is sharing her understanding of magic, she might remove her head from under her tail.”
A strange silence followed, marked by the frown on Hurricane’s face and the distance in his eyes. Finally he spoke quietly but firmly, “Mark my words, Cookie. Princess Luna… she’s to be watched. I’ve seen her kind before. Ponies thrust into command who don’t know how to lead a troop except with a hoof of iron and lightning bolts at the ready, who look to those who lead well and see only a challenge to themselves.”
Cookie stared at Hurricane for a long moment before shaking his head sadly and looking back to his cup. “She was never suited to rule. Perhaps the school will be for the best.”
“She doesn’t want a school. She wants her crown, and if you’re not careful of her she’ll have her sister’s as well,” he said plainly.
“You can’t be suggesting...” Cookie gaped at him. “Ponies would never stand for it.”
Hurricane raised an eyebrow at him. “She cares nothing for ponies. She thinks the crown should bring their respect, and when they won’t give it to her, she’ll be looking for the power that will.”
“You’re talking about treason.” Frowning, Cookie shook his head. “Celestia won’t hear it. She would never believe Luna would do that to her.”
“Not until the knife is in her back,” Hurricane agreed with a nod. “And if Princess Luna’s aim is true, may the stars save Equestria.”
“If it’s not, that’s the only power that could save Luna,” Cookie muttered, trying to consider the situation through entirely too much raindew. “And either way, Celestia would suffer.”
“Then she’ll need a watchful guard with his wits about him.” Hurricane gave Cookie a meaningful look.
Cookie nodded. “Then I suggest Luna get to work in the next few hours. I think I’m going to pass out.”