"See you tomorrow," I said.
Lem smiled at me, and Twink just groaned. I laughed a little, then pushed open the doors.
I stepped out of the school and into the sunshine, then heaved a deep sigh. It had been a week since I’d gone down to Ponyville, and, though I was starting to get into the rhythm of school and Band again, it sure didn’t make the day-to-day any easier.
Like always, the Royal Carriage stood on the cobblestones in front of the school, a guard holding the door open for me. And, like always, I was ready to hop on board without a second thought.
But today—
Today, I walked down to the sidewalk, took a left turn, and kept walking. The guards had been doing this too long to look surprised; they just fell in line behind me, like always.
I walked the route to my destination automatically. I’d done it enough that I almost didn’t need to tell my legs where to go: three blocks down, two up, third house on the left. The little light-yellow one, with the white-picket fence and the porch full of lawn chairs and the lawn that could use a mowing.
As I started my way up the walk, the guards fell back, silently taking up their positions by the gate. I took the steps to the porch in a single stride, then pulled up short at the front door. They had insisted I didn’t need to knock, but I always felt a little funny just walking right on in…
I turned the knob and eased the door open, then poked my head inside. “Auntie Velvet?” I called. “Uncle Night Light? Are you home?”
“Cece!” cried Aunt Velvet, “Of course! Come on in!”
I grinned and slipped inside.
She was in the dining room, seated at one end of the table, surrounded by a great mound of papers, a pair of thin reading glasses balanced on her nose. As soon as she saw me, she stood up and pulled me into a tight hug.
“So good to see you,” she said. “Feels like it’s been forever.”
“I know, Auntie, I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s… just…”
“I know, I know,” she said, letting me go. “we just get to missing you, is all. Please,” she added, gesturing to the kitchen, “help yourself. I just have some work I had to bring home.” She chuckled. “It’s quieter here than at the office, you know?”
“I know,” I said.
She let go of me, and I walked into the kitchen. “Want anything?” I asked.
“Just a coffee,” she said. “Should be some left.”
I cut myself some celery sticks, piled on some peanut butter and crackers, then poured the rest of the coffee from the pot into a mug and loaded up the coffeemaker again. Finally, I picked up the plate and coffee mug in my magic, carried both to the table, and set them down—the coffee by Auntie’s elbow, my plate in front of my old seat. I plopped into the chair and immediately dug in.
After Mom had passed, it had taken the lawyers months to work out her will—Mom wasn’t perfect by a long shot, but she was very good with her legal documents. If life had worked out differently, she might have even ended up as a lawyer herself. But one thing she had made absolutely clear, on the very first page of her will: Mrs. Velvet and her husband, Night Light, were to be appointed legal guardians over Blueblood and me. Ever since then, their house had been a home away from home, in the literal sense; for the few months after the funeral, I’d barely seen the inside of the Palace, and, even now, we spent practically every holiday at their place. Mrs. Velvet—or, Aunt Velvet, as she’d asked us to call her—had helped me through some of the hardest years in my life. And she was still someone I knew I could lean on, no matter what.
Even if it was true I hadn’t stopped by since Twilight had moved out...
I shot Auntie a sidelong glance and watched her work. She wasn’t an attorney herself, but a paralegal—”All the work, none of the benefits,” she’d told me once. I considered asking her what, exactly, she was working on, but, whatever it was, she looked to be in the thick of it—and besides, I remembered, she wouldn’t tell me anyways. She never had. Attorney-client privilege, or somesuch.
Auntie must have felt my gaze, because she glanced up. “So,” she said, looking back down at her work, “How’s school?”
I shrugged. “It’s school,” I said. “Not much to say. Math. Band. The usual.”
“Mh-hm,” she said. “Found a new tutor you like yet?”
“No,” I admitted. “It’s still early in the year, and Twi, she’s…” I shrugged. “Well, there’s no one quite like her.”
Auntie, her eyes on her paper, smiled. “No,” she said warmly, “no, there’s really not…” She looked up at me. “But tell me, at least, that you’re not letting your grades slip? I mean, grades aren’t everything, of course, but you still want to keep them up.”
I took a deep breath. “It’s a little early in the year still,” I said, “but… I’m late on a homework assignment or two,” I admitted.”I’m trying, but there’s been a lot going on…”
Auntie clicked her tongue, but said nothing else. I smiled weakly; that’s the kind of aunt she’d been to me. Kind, supportive, understanding—and, though I knew she cared, she wasn’t the sort to get too down on me.
That was nice. Loonie was giving me enough trouble as it was…
Loonie.
I turned and watched Auntie work. I’d wondered, off-and-on, ever since Luna had told Twilight that she was her grandmother… did Auntie ever feel jealous? Loonie was free to designate her own heir, within reason—after all, it had been long enough that the old lines of succession barely counted anymore… but still, by rights, the crown should have fallen to her next...
Auntie looked up again. “Everything alright, Cece?” she asked.
And I realized, suddenly, that I could never ask her that question. To ask the closest thing I had in the world to a mother if she ever… Well. That just wasn’t the sort of thing you did. So, instead, I asked her the other question that had been on my mind...
“How’d you get your cutie mark?” I asked.
She raised an eyebrow. “Celestia,” she said, with an incredulous chuckle, “Aren’t you a little old for these sorts of questions? And, I mean, I think I’ve told you the story a thousand times—”
“No, I mean—” I shook my head. “What does it mean? Three stars? How’d you…” I trailed off, then gestured uselessly at the air. “Stars,” I repeated, “And you’re a legal aid—?”
“Paralegal,” she corrected me, putting down her pencil. “That’s one of the troubles of being a unicorn, isn’t it?” she continued. “Earth ponies and pegasi have it easy, all things considered: fruits, vegetables, cloud formations—destiny, when it marks them, doesn’t mess around. But unicorns…” she chuckled. “Do you know how many of my friends got stars? Or wisps? Or a sun?” she added, with a nod at me. “Something like that? Something cool-looking, but vague? Oh, sure, lots of them could tell you what they were doing when they got them, but what they mean—well, that’s up to interpretation, most of the time.”
“So,” I said slowly, “How did you interpret yours?”
She sighed, then turned and stared into the middle distance for a moment. “I suppose,” she said finally, “it means that I have three important ponies in my life. Ponies I’m supposed to take care of. Twily, Shiny, and Nightie.”
“Aww,” I said pathetically, “No star for me?”
“Of course not,” she said, a twinkle in her eye. “I don’t think destiny anticipated I’d have you dumped in my lap, after all.” She smiled, and shrugged. “But I don’t need a star on my butt to give me permission to think of you as another daughter of mine.”
I smiled, a sudden warmth blooming inside my chest. “That… that means a lot,” I said.
“It’s true, though,” Auntie Velvet replied. “I mean, you’ve been so good to Twily… and you’ve spent so much time under this roof, anyways…”
She smiled at me, then picked up her pencil and went back to work. I picked up a cracker, then used it to spread some peanut butter on a celery stick. I took a bite of the celery and chewed thoughtfully.
“Ffo,” I said suddenly, spraying little flecks of peanut butter, “If yourf iff—”
Auntie looked at me over her glasses. “Cece,” she said, a warning tone in her voice.
My eyes widened. I covered my mouth with a hoof and swallowed. “Sorry,” I said.
She just shook her head and turned back to her work. “Seventeen years old,” she said wryly, “and you still can’t chew with your mouth closed…”
I smirked a little and rolled my eyes. “Anyways,” I said, “Your cutie mark is stars. And so is Twily’s and Shiny’s. So, does that mean that they have ponies to care for, too?”
She shrugged. “Probably. But Shiny’s got a shield, too,so he’s likely got some ponies to protect.” She sighed wistfully. “I would hope that those ponies are Twily, Nightie, and me, but I suspect he still hasn’t found his stars yet.”
She shot me a guarded look, and I swallowed, then looked away. I mean, I wouldn’t exactly mind being one of his stars… he wasn’t so bad-looking, after all…
I blushed. Now wasn’t the time to think about that. Not in front of his mother...
“And Twi,” I said suddenly, trying to distract myself. “She has, like six stars, doesn’t she? That probably means that… that all the little ones are her Ponyville friends… a-and the big one is her.”
Aunt Velvet gave a little snort. She looked up and saw my face, then her expression fell the slightest bit. “You’re forgetting one,” she said.
I cocked my head. “I… don’t think so? That’s all six, isn’t it?”
She shook her head. “She has seven stars: a purple one in the middle, and a white one behind it. I think you’re right,” she added. “That purple one probably represents Twilight herself. Or maybe her skill in magic. I’m not sure. But behind it…” She poked me in the chest with her pencil. “I think that’s you, Cece.”
“Me?” I yelped.
She nodded. “Almost certainly.” She smiled at me, hesitated, then took off her glasses, folded them, and set them down.
“I… don’t think she’s told you this,” she said carefully. “Heavens, she’s asked me not to tell you this…” She sighed. “Your friendship has meant so much to her, Cece,” she said. “I mean, you’ve had your rough spots here and there—who hasn’t, really?—but you’re one of the popular kids. Always have been. And, to see someone like you give a damn about someone like her...” She sighed again, then gave a little smile.
“Like her,” I repeated. “You… you say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Auntie’s eyes bulged. “Nonono,” she said quickly, “I didn’t mean it like that… it’s just…” she sighed. “Twilight… tends not to think too much of herself. She’s wicked smart—that’s why we moved her up from Magic Kindergarten to first grade halfway through the year—and why we had her start to tutor you, even though she was still a year behind you. But she’s always been made fun of—for her glasses, for her smarts, for being so young…” She looked away. “I don’t know if that’s why, but…” she sighed. “Twilight’s a bit of a perfectionist. And she tries... maybe a little too hard. It’s done wonders for her school career, of course, but her social life…” she made an uncomfortable little noise. “But you’ve always treated her well,” she continued, looking up at me. “Even when—especially when—she thinks she doesn’t deserve it. And it’s meant the world to her. And,” she added, “to me.”
The two of us sat in silence for a long moment. Eventually, Auntie flashed a weak smile, put her glasses back on, and turned back to her work. For several seconds, the only sound was the scratching of her pencil.
“Thank you,” I said.
I wasn’t sure what I was thanking her for—and, I said it so quietly, I’m not sure she heard—but still, it felt like the right thing to say.
And, truth be told, I wasn’t sure I could manage to get out anything else. Not without crying, anyways.
I watched her work in silence as I nibbled at one of my celery sticks. As I popped the last bite in my mouth, I realized: I had another question to ask her. The question.
The thought of it nearly made me ill. I licked my lips, the peanut butter on them tasting like ash.
“So, uh…” I began, “If stars mean ponies, then…” I swallowed. “Then what does a sun mean?”
She jerked her head up to look at me, eyes wide. Her pencil dropped to the table, bounced once, and lay still. I shrank back.
“I mean, uh… Well…” I trailed off.
Auntie studied my face carefully, then picked up her pencil with deliberate care.
“Well,” she said, her voice carefully neutral, “A sun could mean lots of things. Maybe you’re supposed to be a light in the darkness. Or that you’re someone everyone can look up to. Of course,” she said slowly, “the obvious answer has to do with your political position—though I suppose you’ve already considered that…”
I nodded.
She watched me for another moment, then set her pencil back down. She nudged it a little, nervously lining it up with the edge of her paper.
“Your Highness,” she said finally, “You’ve been good to me and my family, so I’m going to be frank. I get the feeling that you meant to ask another question than the one that came out of your mouth just now.”
I nodded eagerly.
“That what I thought,” she responded. “Though, I’ll be darned if I knew exactly what it was you meant to ask. And the implications of that question… well, to be honest...” she shivered a little. “Given your position, that sort of uncertainty gives me the willies.”
I looked down at my plate.
She was quiet for another moment. “Cece,” she said, a little warmth seeping back into her voice, “I want you to know that I love you like a daughter. And, if you need help and support, I’ll be here. But the question you’re asking… if it’s anything like what I suspect it is, that’s the sort of question that every pony in Equestria needs to answer for themselves.”
“How, though?” I asked in a tiny voice.
“I… don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s different for everypony. Me, I don’t think it clicked until after I met Nightie. But…” She sighed. “I’m not positive you have the luxury of that sort of time.”
I looked away. There was no sound in the sudden, stinging silence.
After another moment, Aunt Velvet sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That… that came out harsher than I was hoping.”
I made a noncommittal little head-bob.
“Hey,” she said, “why don’t we take a minute and mix up a cake or something together? Maybe that chocolate one with the pink icing that you like? I’ve been needing a break, and it’d be a nice surprise for Nighty…”
I turned and looked at her, and saw her staring back at me. Her smile was weak and half-hearted, and her eyes were beginning to mist with tears. She knew her words had hurt me—though I’m not sure she knew how deeply.
“...yeah,” I said finally. “Okay.”
She pushed back her chair and stood. “C’mon,” she said, prancing to the kitchen. “It’s been forever since we’ve done something like this…”
I stayed where I sat for a moment longer. Finally, I stood and followed her to the kitchen, her words still ringing in my ears.