I would first like to say that I was pleasantly surprised when Twilight Sparkle told me that a letter addressed to me had arrived through the mirror portal, and even more pleasantly surprised to see that it was you who had written to me. It has been far too long since I last heard from you, and since we parted on such awful terms I had been afraid that any chance of hearing from you again had been lost.
That being said, I must admit that your letter managed to dredge up some rather unpleasant feelings within me. The manner in which we parted ways is, in all my thousands of years, one of only two events for which I would gladly cede my crown in order to take back. Reading your words, words which were so fragile and unsure, and counting against them the strong and confident mare that I was blessed to see blossom into adulthood was enough to bring me to tears.
Sunset Shimmer, from the day I met you you were the brightest star I had ever seen. You had a passion that could rival any of the great scholars, and even through the hardship of losing your parents you were undaunted and steadfast in your determination to succeed. I could not have been happier when you allowed me to be your teacher, and every day I watched you grow I felt prouder than I had the day before.
I find myself forced to admit to some selfishness on my part in offering to teach you magic. From the moment I first lay my eyes on you, I could see in you a great passion and potential, and I wanted to be the one to cultivate that, to turn it into a powerful force for good in Equestria. But, when I looked again, I could see the pain that lay behind that passion, and in that moment I realized I wanted more for you than to mould you into my successor. I wanted to give back to you all the things you had lost.
It was foalish of me to believe that I could replace the mother you had lost. How could I? You seemed so strong, so self-reliant, that you hardly seemed to need a mother. So I kept my desires hidden, unknowingly allowing you to suffer under the mistaken assumption that I did not want you as my daughter. Ironic, is it not, that only after we have been apart for so long do we realize the truth that was right before our eyes? You wanted me to see you as a daughter, while I wanted you to see me as a mother, and yet our own misconceptions kept us at hoof’s length.
Showing you the mirror was another mistake, though one that at the time I believed I had made with good intentions. The first time I looked upon it, it showed me a vision of my sister and I, reunited as though nothing had transpired between us. Then, much later, I looked into the mirror and was surprised to see not my sister, but you. I do not believe the mirror meant to imply that you had supplanted my sister in my heart, but rather that it shows us what we desire most of all. That first time had occurred shortly after my sister’s banishment, and though I knew I had made the right choice for Equestria, my heart still ached for having lost her, so in my grief the mirror showed me the vision that was in my heart. When I looked again was not so very long before I showed it to you, and the desire in my heart was that you would accept me as your mother. I saw you, looking as radiant as the breaking dawn, and I knew that you had accepted me. In my misguided haste to see that vision come to pass, I made the mistake of showing you the mirror, hoping that you would see what I had seen. In a manner, you had, but the means by which the mirror chose to show that to you was different from what I had envisioned.
From then on, the spark of passion in your eye darkened, and I saw something else beginning to grow within you. It was a darkness that reminded me of my sister before her fall, and as I rebuked you, I did so not out of malice but out of a desire to see you not forced to suffer her same fate. But I know now that in doing so I only contributed to the hurt that was festering in your soul. For that, I must ask your forgiveness, as it was not my intention to cause you pain in any way, and had I known the extent to which you suffered under the assumption that you were unwanted, I would have done all in my power to show you otherwise.
Sunset Shimmer, to see you succeed would have been enough for me. A pair of wings and a throne beside mine would not have made even the slightest difference in my opinion of you. You are my daughter, Sunset, and though you are not of my blood I am as proud of you as any mother can be of her child. I cannot forgive you, for you have done nothing wrong for me to forgive. You have made mistakes, as all ponies have, but you have learned from them and are working towards bettering yourself, and for that I am so proud of you.
Whenever Twilight writes to me and tells me of your world, of the things you have accomplished, and the things which you are still accomplishing, it makes me smile. But I also feel a sense of sadness, for I wish that I could be there to experience your growth into somepony that others can be proud of, and I wish that we did not have to part ways in such a manner that we did for this to come to pass. However, it sounds to me that you have friends who are willing to help you stand strong, and if leaving the nest is what it took for you to discover the magic of friendship, then in some small sense I am gladdened by your departure. But know that you shall always be welcome in Equestria, and should the day come that you desire to return home, know that I will be waiting for you with open wings.
Sincerely,
Princess Celestia
With love,
Mom
Sunset Shimmer stared at the letter for what seemed like an eternity, her eyes scanning over each word with precision and care. In many places liquid courage had stained the parchment, smearing words and leaving letters illegible. She had read it for the third time within the hour, and with each re-read the words slowly began to feel more and more real.
“Sincerely, Princess Celestia…” she whispered, only to correct herself moments later with a smile and a shake of the head. “No… With love, mom.”
The digital clock on Sunset’s bedside table read 3:10, the dull red glow reminding her that tomorrow… Today, was a school day. Monday… How had the weekend passed so quickly? She remembered that Friday afternoon, when Twilight Sparkle had stopped by, unannounced and bearing an envelope with Celestia’s royal seal. How she had hesitated, waiting until just earlier today… Yesterday, before finally opening the envelope, terrified of what might lie within.
“Sunset, are you still awake?” A familiar voice called from the hall. “I got up to go to the bathroom and I saw that your light was on. Is everything alright?”
“Everything’s fine, Twilight,” Sunset replied. “Just…”
“Just reading Princess Celestia’s letter again?” The lavender pony princess-turned-person gently opened Sunset’s door, causing the bacon-haired former-horse to hastily attempt to hide the letter, shoving it under her pillow. “It’s okay to let yourself be seen crying, Sunset. I won’t think any less of you for it.”
Sunset nodded, silently removing the Princess’s letter from under her pillow. “I… I thought for so long that she didn’t want me, that I could never get her to see me as her daughter. And it’s only now that I realize the opposite was true, that she never thought I’d see her as a mother. If we had only been able to talk things out…”
Twilight sat down beside Sunset, wrapping her arm around the other girl’s shoulder. “Well, at least now you have that chance. You can have a fresh start. And whether you want to continue using me as a middlemare for letters between you and the Princess, or whether you want to return to Equestria and talk things out with her yourself, I’ll be right here beside you.”
“Thanks, Twilight. Now, I have school tomorrow, and I’m sure you have princess-ey duties of your own waiting for you when you get back, so how about we get some sleep?”
Tomorrow would be a brighter day.