I trotted up the last few steps to the front door of Twilight’s old home, shivering a little. I blew into my hooves, then pulled my scarf tighter and shook the snow from the back of my hoodie. Bloob, carrying the big cardboard box full of wrapped presents, rolled his eyes.
“Sissy,” he said, in a mock-warning tone, “what did I tell you about wearing a thicker jacket?”
I grinned. “That sassing your Princess was once a capital offence?” I replied. “And that the law is technically still on the books, though it hasn’t been applied in centuries?”
He chuckled. “You can be such a pill when you want to be,” he said, bumping the doorbell with his hip. From inside the home, we heard the faint, familiar ding-dong.
“But you still love me anyways,” I said.
He nodded. “I do,” he said. “Even though you insist on making it hard, sometimes.”
I smiled and gave him a quick side-hug, squeezing a “Gack!” out of him. I laughed.
From inside, we heard a high, cheerful voice.
“No, please,” it said, “I shall get it—after all, you have already done so much—”
The latch clicked, and the door swung open. When I saw the mare standing behind it, I froze. Beside me, Blueblood gulped.
Just inside the door hung a festive bunch of mistletoe. And, underneath the mistletoe, in a faintly ridiculous red-and-green Hearth's Warming sweater, stood Aunt Luna.
She still wore those pince-nez spectacles of hers, and her mane was up in its same, severe bun, despite the little sprig of holly she’d added for the occasion. And it seemed that a few of her wrinkles had fallen away since last I’d seen her. But, aside from that, she was the same mare that had haunted my days and my nightmares since she returned on the summer solstice.
As soon as she’d seen us, she’d frozen as well. The only part of her that moved was her eyes, which jerked their gaze unsteadily over me, taking in my red-and-white scarf, my CHS Band hoodie with a sweater underneath, and my mane tied back in a simple-but-undignified ponytail.
I’d rehearsed for this moment. I knew I had. I even had a speech prepared: Your Highness, I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but it’s Hearth's Warming; could we please put our grudges aside, just for tonight, etc. However, I found that, in the moment, my words somehow got lost on their way from my brain to my tongue.
I was a half-second away from turning around and walking right back home when it happened:
Luna’s face fell, and she looked away. I cocked my head slightly. Her expression was full of surprise and dismay, of course, but also… fear? And shame? What—?
At that instant, a voice from inside the house called out.
“Granny,” came the unsteady cry, “whoozit atta door? Shut it already, it’s cold out—”
Aunt Velvet tottered unsteadily into view, an open bottle of cider held in her magic. As soon as she saw us, she paused, then squealed.
“Cece!” she cried. “And Blue! Happy Hearth's Warming! Come on in, the whole family’s here now—!”
Aunt Luna turned, and, as she did, the ice in her gaze melted away. In its place, her expression filled with genuine warmth.
“My dear Mrs. Velvet,” she said, taking the bottle away from her, “I daresay you have been wassailing with entirely too much enthusiasm.” She sniffed at the bottle, then drew back with a sharp whoof. “Especially with stuff this strong,” she added.
“Aw, c’mon,” Auntie whined, as she turned and headed deeper into the house. “It’s Hearth's Warming, after all…”
Luna followed behind her, then glanced at the label of the bottle and stopped cold. She stood still for a second, then growled. “Mrs. Velvet,” she snarled, “if I discover this is the last bottle of the Sweet Apple stock, then I shall not be amused! Furthermore—!”
Her voice faded as she reached the living room. I elbowed Bloob, then rolled my eyes at him. He smiled, then nodded at the door. I smiled back and stepped inside, with him following close behind.
* * *
The fire had burned low in the grate. The plates from Hearth's Warming Eve dinner lay piled high in the sink, leftovers already stowed away in the fridge. Aunt Velvet and Uncle Nightie sat in the loveseat, Uncle reading A Hearth’s Warming Carol to himself, Auntie snoring loudly on his shoulder. Shiny and Bloob sat at the kitchen table, making a valiant effort at finishing off the pies, while arguing, with almost religious fervor, over whether Blueblood should try Ogres & Oubliettes, or whether Shiny should try Vampony: The Masquerade. And Aunt Luna sat in a rocking chair by the fire, her cross-stitching lying forgotten on her lap, nodding along to a record of Hearth’s Warming carols.
Twilight and I sat on the sofa. On the coffee table in front of us, between our mugs of hot chocolate, lay an open folder with several sheets of thin paper spread over it.
I picked up one of the papers and examined it. It was covered in thin, sweeping strokes, somehow both delicate and bold at the same time. The sketch showed a tall, featureless pony, with both wings and a horn, her mane pulled up in a bun. She wore a surprisingly detailed dress—form-fitting through the chest, blooming out into a wide, billowing skirt below the waist, with long sleeves and a high, pointed collar. Her face was hidden by a domino mask, with a lacy trim. Wispy gauze had been sketched in, showing a scarf, and a short train falling behind. The artist had added some color with delicate pastels: the scarf and the train were a deep, indigo blue, while the dress and skirt were solid black. I peered closer: down in the lower corner, in Luna’s distinct, loopy handwriting, were the letters N.M.M.?
I lowered the paper slightly and looked over the top of it at Luna, still listening to her music. I looked back down at the sketch and nodded a little.
“It’s… good. Really good,” I said. “But, uh… isn’t it a little premature? I mean, it’s December, and she’s already working on her Nightmare Night costume…?”
Twilight smiled and nodded. “Uh-huh. She’s still brainstorming at this point, but I think she likes this one best. I mean—” she gestured at the folder. “She’s proud enough of the design to bring it to Hearth's Warming, after all.”
“Isn’t she jumping the gun a little, though?” I asked. “I mean, ordinarily, she’s not very... keen… on people bringing up…” I glanced at Luna again. “...her past indiscretions,” I whispered.
“Well, you know how she is,” Twilight said. “Once she gets an idea in her head, she has a hard time letting it go. I’m sure you’ve noticed.…”
“No,” I replied flatly. “I hadn’t.”
Twilight giggled. “She… has her ups and downs,” she said. “Yeah, she can be a bear… but when she has a project…” she sighed. “Nightmare Night caught her off-guard this year. And… well, she took it a little hard, truth be told. But, now that she’s had time to process her feelings, I think the concept excites her. And she wants to be ready for next year, no matter what.”
“Even so,” I added, setting the paper down. “Why'd she choose...?" I gestured at the paper.
"Nightmare Moon?” Twilight finished for me.
I flinched at the name, but Twilight smiled.
“I thought it was tasteless at first, too,” she admitted. “But, the more I think about it… the more I think it’ll be good for her.”
I cocked my head. “Dressing as her worst mistake?” I asked. “How so?”
Twilight adjusted her glasses—though, this time, they were already on straight. “The fact that she’s willing to dress as her mistake is a good sign, I think,” she said. “Shows she’s not so hard on herself anymore. Shows that she’s starting to forgive herself—even if she doesn’t realize it just yet.” She took a sip of her cocoa. “And that’s always a good thing.”
We sat quietly for another moment. Luna’s carol ended, leaving the room silent save for the cracking of the fire; Luna herself had dozed off, it seemed.
“So, how is it?” I asked. “Living with her?”
“It’s nice,” she replied. “Granny’s really happy in Ponyville.”
I looked at Twi. “Granny?” I repeated.
Twi nodded. “Mh-hm,” she said.
I waited for her to continue, but she said nothing. After a moment, I cleared my throat.
“So… she’s been treating you well, then?” I asked.
“She is,” Twi said earnestly. “It’s… been a bit of a tight fit, with both of us in that tree, but she’s been… helpful.” She chuckled a little. “Took some stress off Miss Cheerilee when she took over my Guardianship, for one thing… but, more than that…” She hesitated, then picked up and absently stirred her cocoa. “When you said she was coming, I… I was afraid, at first. I thought that her coming to me for help with social skills was, well…” She swallowed. “...misguided. I still mess up so often… and to hear that I was supposed to help a mare five times my age, on top of trying to figure myself out…”
I noticed the mug in her hooves was trembling. I looked up into her face; she was staring at the floor, with a distant, detached look. I opened my mouth to speak, but Twilight spoke first.
“She’s… been good, though,” she said slowly. “I’ve been able to help her, and she’s been able to help me.” She quirked a little smile. “It turns out that we have a lot in common, after all…”
I smiled. “No need to talk like that, Twi,” I said jokingly. “You’re a good pony, and don’t let anyone tell you different. I’m sure that you’re not that bad off—
“I know you’re just joking, Cece,” she interrupted me. “But, you know what I meant.”
I shut my mouth. I recognized that tone—it was one of Luna’s. It was the “We’re done with this discussion” tone. But, coming from Twilight—somehow, it was softer. Sweeter. A gentle reproach, not a command.
I turned back to my own cocoa. I picked it up and stirred it a little, then watched the gentle, steaming swirls in my cup. As I stared down at my lap, I felt Twilight place a hoof on my shoulder.
“So, how are you?” she asked.
The question was so unexpected, it took me a second to realize she was talking to me. I looked up. “Huh?” I asked stupidly.
Twilight smiled. “How are you doing?” she asked. “I know we’ve written, but it’s not the same as in person, and I know you have a lot going on...” She trailed off, but continued to look up at me expectantly.
It took me a while to figure out how to begin. Usually, this conversation went the other way: it was always me who asked Twilight to open up the deepest recesses of her soul, and I couldn’t remember the last time she'd returned the favor. But now—I glanced over at her—Twilight was staring back at me, her expression open and honest and sincere.
She really did want to know how I was doing. And, to my faint surprise, I wanted to tell her.
I took a deep breath, then let it out. “Well…” I said slowly, “h-having Blue’s help has been… nice, actually. Doesn’t tell me what to do, exactly—just... provides some perspective.”
Twi nodded, but said nothing.
“A-and, I’ve been trying to do better about… about keeping a handle on things at the Palace,” I continued. “I have an actual office now, with an inbox and everything. Did you hear about that?”
She nodded. “I did,” she said.
“It’s… made things easier,” I said. “Trying to keep track of so much… and, I’ve been trying to follow Luna’s example,” I added. “Keep a little more on top of things, make sure I know what’s going on.”
The words were coming easier now.
“I don’t, like, rule with an iron hoof or anything,” I said. “In fact, I’m still not doing much of anything. Not yet. I mean, it’s hard to change the course of something so big as the Palace overnight. But I’m trying to make sure it’s my hoof on the helm, at least.” I hesitated. “Luna, she…” I swallowed. “She had some good ideas.” I paused, then turned to Twi with a mischievous grin. “And, if you tell her I said that, I’ll banish you to the moon myself, see if I don’t.”
Twilight laughed, then took a sip of her cocoa. I smiled at her, then looked back down.
“But, uh…” I sighed. “I-I’ve been trying. To, uh… exercise my talents. Follow my cutie mark. Whatever you want to call it.”
Twilight nodded. “How so?”
I looked up at her and smiled. “I thought my cutie mark was obvious, at first,” I said. “I thought it meant I was just going to be a Princess... moving the sun and all? But that’s not it.”
“No?”
I shook my head. “What I’m good at—what my special talent is—is making ponies happy. Filling them up with light and warmth, and helping everything look a little brighter.” I smiled. “I’m the People Princess,” I said. “I don’t have a war to fight, I don’t have a plague to cure, I don’t have a famine to end, or anything else like that I need to deal with—”
“Hopefully not,” Twi interjected.
“Hopefully,” I admitted. “But what I can do—what I’m trying to do—is make everypony feel like they matter. Like they’re cared for. Like, no matter what happens, someone out there gives a damn, and will be there for them when they need a shoulder to cry on.”
Twilight let out a low whistle. “Tall order,” she said.
I nodded. “Yeah. Kinda is. But…” I took a deep breath, then let it out. “It’s what I’m good at. It’s… my calling, if I can say that. And, tall order that it is… I’m gonna make a good run of it, at least.”
The two of us sat quietly for a long moment. I suddenly realized I was exhausted—like I had just run a marathon. I sunk a little deeper into the couch.
“You can do it,” Twi said, finally. “I know you can. You’re… you’re kinda good at it, actually.”
I shot her a smile, then shook my head. “You don’t count, Twi,” I said. “The whole love and care thing kinda comes along with the best friends territory. You've done it before.”
“I wasn’t talking about me, silly,” she said. “I was talking about Granny.”
“Granny?” I squawked.
“Mm-hm,” Twi said, nodding. She smiled a little brighter, then glanced meaningfully at Luna, still dozing in the firelight.
In sleep, Luna looked... peaceful. Maybe not happy, but, at the very least… contented. She was no longer afraid, and her dreams—if dreams she had—were pleasant, too.
“She’s gotten better,” Twilight said, “because she doesn’t feel like she has to do everything herself anymore. Because she feels loved. Because she’s no longer so afraid. And you got her there, Cease,” she said, gently slugging me on the arm. “You did it. You got her to slow down, take her time, reconnect with the world that she’d left behind. So,” she added, leaning back against the sofa, “if you’re set on being the—the Princess of Friendship, or whatever—on ruling, not by fear, or arms, or law, but love—I think you’re going to do awesome.”
Twilight watched Luna doze for a few moments longer, a gentle smile on her lips. Suddenly, she frowned, then turned to me. “Cece,” she said carefully, “are you… crying?”
“No,” I murmured, then turned away. I sniffled.
Twi said nothing. She just waited a few seconds, then reached up and started to rub my back, high up between my shoulder blades. Not much—just enough to let me know that she was still there for me, despite everything. That, just like I’d showed Luna that someone was there for her, that someone—for what felt like the first time in maybe forever—was well and truly there for me.
And—though I wasn’t sure how to put it into words—that was exactly what I needed.
* * *
I pulled open the linen closet, and breathed in the old, familiar scent—dust, age, old spices, and the barest hint of pine resin. A home smell. A Hearth's Warming smell. I reached up and started pulling down blankets, saving my favorite—the purple one with the tassels—for last.
It was an old family tradition—one that I was planning on stealing when I was old enough to have traditions—that, on Hearth's Warming Eve, the entire family slept in the living room, around the fireplace. Mrs. Velvet had said that they started it just after she and Night Light had gotten married, back in their first, tiny apartment, when the heat had gone out and the only working radiator had been in the kitchen. Back then, it was just the two of them, snuggled under a blanket on the linoleum as the snow fell outside. They’d kept it going, of course—and had discovered, when Shiny and Twi came along, that their tradition also helped to keep inquisitive foals from getting up too early to open their presents. But more than that, it was just a time to be together, as family, in that special, quiet time before the dawn.
And, of course, since Bloob and I were practically family anyways, we knew how this was supposed to go. After we all more-or-less agreed that it was time to bed down, Shiny and Bloob brought in enough firewood for the night. Twilight went and got the pillows from all the rooms, and I retrieved the blankets from the linen closet. The routine hadn’t changed significantly in years.
Which is why it surprised me so much when Luna spoke.
“I can take those, if you please,” she said, inches behind me.
I yelped and dropped the blankets all over the floor. I spun and glared at her, but she stared back at me, eyes wide.
“I am sorry,” she said, “It was not my intention—”
Then, wordlessly, she bent down and started picking up the blankets. I grabbed one or two myself—before I noticed, suddenly, that she had her head bowed low, refusing to look at me.
I swallowed. “Is… everything alright?” I asked.
Luna looked up at me, surprised, her glasses magnifying her eyes. “Oh,” she said, after a moment, “o-of course. Everything is fine. Just…”
Inwardly, I groaned. I knew this was coming. It wasn’t like her to just let me slip by, unnoticed, without making some sort of remark…
She cleared her throat. “I was wondering,” she said delicately, “if I could, perhaps, have a word with you. In private.”
I raised one eyebrow. That wasn’t in the formula.
Aloud, I said, “Sure. Just…” I hefted the blankets.
“Of course, of course,” she said quickly, backing up a little.
The two of us walked back down the hall, me in front, Luna behind. The silence was deafening.
Night Light was sitting by the fire, stoking it with a poker. Twilight had already returned with a mound of pillows, and was in the middle of distributing them. She’d already laid one—thick, plush, with a lace cover—on the couch. Luna had asked, an hour or two before, if it would not be too much trouble for her to take the sofa—far be it from her to challenge tradition, of course, but the cushions would be ever so much easier on her old bones, et cetera…
I dropped the blankets beside Twi, who looked up with a question in her eyes. “Be just a sec,” I said. I turned to Luna. “Front porch okay?” I asked.
She nodded. Wordlessly, I walked to the front door, grabbed my hoodie off its hook, and pulled it over my head. I opened the door, and Luna slipped out into the night, draping a shawl over her sweater as she went. I moved to follow, then hesitated.
“Wait—just a sec,” I said, then ducked back inside. I trotted over to the pile of gifts, grabbed a small, crudely-wrapped package from the top of the pile, then shoved it in my pocket.
I walked back outside to see Luna standing still at the edge of the porch, staring out at the falling snow. It was cold and quiet this time of night—but Hearth's Warming lights blinked cheerily in windows and under eaves. The snow was thick and deep, and still falling. The scene looked like something out of a dream. I took a deep breath, then let it out, steam filling the air. Whatever was going to happen next—well, at least I had this moment to remember, after it was all over.
Luna glanced over at me, then looked back out onto the street. I paused, then walked up beside her. For a long moment, we stood there, quietly, watching the picture-postcard scene before us.
“How are you enjoying Ponyville?” I asked.
Luna glanced over at me again, then back out at the street.
“I expect Twilight has been filling you in on that front,” she said.
“Mostly,” I replied. “But even so.”
“Even so,” she repeated.
We were quiet for another moment.
“It has been…” she took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Enlightening, if I am to be honest.”
I looked over at her, but she continued to stare straight ahead.
“I have learned… quite a bit,” she said. “About Twilight, of course. And her friends. But mostly…” She swallowed. “about myself.”
She fell quiet again.
I glanced at her. “Have you…” I began, then hesitated. I coughed, once. “Have you… thought about coming back?”
She was quiet for a moment. “I have,” she said. “In the spring, I think. If you will have me, of course,” she added.
“Of course,” I murmured.
She nodded graciously. “I... have been away a long time," she said, "but, coming back to Canterlot when the gardens are in bloom seems…” She sighed. “...right.”
We stood there in silence for a long time. I shifted uncomfortably, waiting for her to say something. I was getting cold, after all...
On cue, she spoke.
“Your Highness, I…” She clenched her jaw, then swallowed. “I have something I would like to say to you.”
Ah. Here we go.
I looked over at her. “Of course,” I said, fighting to keep my voice level. “What is it?”
She took a step backwards, then turned to face me. She lowered her head a little, then grimaced. She was fighting a battle within herself—and I knew exactly what was going to come next:
You have been ever so much of a dear, Celestia, for coming today, thankyouverymuch, indeed, but, though I am loath to break the peace of the Season, Seasonal as it is, I absolutely must tell you, from the bottom of my heart, how very much of a disappointment you have been to me, and—
“I am sorry,” Luna blurted.
My eyes widened. I opened my mouth to speak—
She held up a hoof. “Please, Celestia,” she said, her voice shaking, “This is hard enough for me as it is. Let me have my say.”
I closed my mouth again.
She took another breath or two to steady herself, then squeezed her eyes shut and began, speaking quickly, as if she had been rehearsing this speech for weeks.
“I was wrong,” she said. “And I have done you wrong. I expected too much of you, and punished you for failing to act like the Princess I wanted you to be. In particular,” she continued, “my behavior after the Gala—what I said, how I acted—was especially unkind and uncivil.” She hesitated. “Though I have always had…” She swallowed. “...good intentions, my actions towards you have been cruel and inexcusable. And I hope you can forgive me for that.”
The instant she stopped speaking, she hung her head, then stood motionless. For a long moment, the only sound was her heavy, ragged breathing.
I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t prepared myself for this sort of discussion. Her anger, I could handle—her olive branch left me speechless.
I stood there, silent, for several seconds. And suddenly, I knew what to say. I smirked.
“Sure,” I said, “if you’ll forgive me.”
She looked up, startled.
“I was wrong, too,” I said. This was not in my prepared speech in the slightest, but the words came naturally, from the heart. “Sure, you might have started it,” I said, “but I was mean, too. You drove me hard, but I didn’t need to twist the knife like I did.”
She smiled weakly. “There is no need to ask forgiveness for being…”
“...a bit of a brat?” I finished. “Sure there is—at least, if you’re asking forgiveness for being…”
“...a complete flapdoodle,” she suggested.
I giggled a little, then nodded. “I do,” I said. “I do forgive you.”
She looked up at me, her gaze quavering. She swallowed several times, then just nodded.
And, for me, that was enough.
I smiled at her for another moment, then I let out a little gasp. “Oh, hang on,” I said, “I almost forgot—”
I reached in the pocket of my hoodie and pulled out my present. It looked so small and pathetic—but it was too late now. I handed it to her and she took it, wordlessly.
“Hearth's Warming present,” I murmured. “Me to you.”
She took it, then swallowed again, before lighting her horn and undoing the wrapping. The paper came free, revealing a small cardboard box. She opened it, and pulled out a delicate pair of scissors. They were small, no bigger than my hoof, but they were made of burnished silver formed in the shape of a bird, with the two blades making its beak.
“Antique sewing scissors,” I muttered nervously. “Real silver. The sort that ponies actually used back in your day.” I swallowed. “I know you probably have some scissors you’re using already,” I said, “but I thought you might like something more… familiar.”
Luna lit her horn again, then held up the scissors. She opened and closed them experimentally once or twice, gazing at them with eyes filled with wonder and awe. She closed them again, then looked at me.
“Thank you, Celestia,” she said, a slight quaver in her voice. She set them down on the box again. “These... mean a great deal to me." She swallowed. "Honestly.”
Luna smiled up at me, then looked, suddenly, uncertain. She hesitated, then lit her horn and lifted one wing. “I suppose this is as good a time as any,” she said weakly, levitating a thin, flat package towards me. I took it in my hooves: it was wrapped in red paper, printed with white musical notes, with my name written, in flawless cursive, on the top corner. It felt like a folder full of papers.
“Go on,” Luna encouraged.
I tore off the wrapping paper—then, inwardly, I groaned. Sheet music. All my friends had learned, long ago, that I didn’t want them buying me music—if I was going to play something for fun, I would choose it on my own. I was very particular about my hobby-music.
“Thanks,” I said, managing to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, as I flipped through the booklets—Hearth's Warming Classics For Brass Ensembles, Concerto for Four Horns In D Minor… “It really means a lot—”
Suddenly, my eyes bulged. My breath caught in my throat. I looked up at Luna, only to see her gazing back at me with a nervous smile.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
I nodded wordlessly, then looked back down. The final booklet in the packet read, in large letters across the top:
A KISS TO BUILD A DREAM ON, BY JOUST HOOFSTRONG, SOLO FOR TRUMPET
Luna chuckled nervously. “I told you once,” she said, “often, I am a little more observant than you give me credit for…”
I looked down. I wasn’t sure I could meet her eye just now—I was already so close to breaking down, and I wasn’t sure I could keep myself together, as is...
“Thanks,” I managed to say, my voice shaking.
And suddenly, I dropped the books, then lunged forward and pulled her tight. She made a slight, strangled noise, then put her arms around me, too.
We held each other that way I for a minute, then I pulled away and dabbed at my eyes. I picked up the books in my magic, then turned to her and grinned.
“Well,” I said, “shall we turn in?” It’s getting cold out here.”
“Yes, of course,” she said quickly.
I stepped to the door and held it open for her. As she stepped through, I licked my lips, then spoke.
“Your Highness?” I said hesitantly.
She paused, then turned and looked at me.
“Happy Hearth's Warming,” I said.
Her eyes widened a little, but she nodded.
“Happy Hearth's Warming, Cece,” she said.
And she smiled.
-The End-
