“Hmph. A full hoof taller than when you showed up last year.” Sunset smiled. “At this rate you’ll be as tall as Princess Celestia by the time you're my age.”
Midnight snorted with laughter as Sunset finished her weekly diagnostic spell. “No I won’t! No one, or um, nopony is that tall. That's an incorrect use of linear extrapolation.” Midnight still hadn’t quite broken her habit of saying ‘someone’ or ‘anyone’ or ‘no one’ instead of the more common ‘somepony’ and so on.
It was an odd quirk since her vocabulary was otherwise extremely strong for a foal of her apparent age. It had put Sunset on a path of trying to prove she was a shapeshifter or had gotten herself on the wrong end of a polymorph spells. The only thing Sunset had learned from it all was that there were more monsters that'd impersonate a foal than she'd known about off-hoof, and Midnight wasn't any of them.
At least she'd be ready for it if she had to hunt down a kelpie or a black-eyed foal.
She lifted a foreleg and let Sunset scan her hooves. Having to do this every week had gotten Midnight used to the routine that Sunset used. She’d seen the spell cast so often she could almost manage it herself, or at least she thought she could, if she could just get her magic working at all.
“Nopony?” Sunset asked. “What about that model you have all those pictures of? What’s her name? Flour d’Less?”
“Fleur Dis Lee,” Midnight corrected. “And I don’t have that many pictures of her!” It wasn't even two orders of magnitude, which was pretty small potatoes as far as mathematicians were concerned.
“Sure, sure, whatever you say,” Sunset smirked. “Well, the good news is that you’re still a perfectly normal pony, as far as I can tell. Which proves that I’m the best spellcaster since Star Swirl disappeared.”
“Didn’t you say you figured out it was an accident?” Midnight frowned.
“It wasn’t an accident,” Sunset said, tilting her nose up regally. “I was trying to cast a spell to crack the protections on the enchantment's effects, but because I put way too much force into it, the effect latched onto a strong magical beacon, in this case Twilight Sparkle trying to cast spells in the Canterlot Public Library and failing, creating a large buildup of magic.” Sunset coughed and shrugged. “Then the spell fowled up, the mirror tried to shape it like it was part of whatever illusion enchantment is on it, and boom, out you come.”
“That has a lot of suppositions and assumptions and sounds a lot like an accident.”
“It fits all the data, at least what little Celestia has let me look at,” Sunset said, cutting her off. “My official analysis is that you’re the mare Twilight Sparkle wishes she was, Midnight. The mirror showed me what I wanted to be, so it has to have some kind of psychothamaphotonic effect."
"You made up that word."
“If I did it's because I invented a new branch of magical science.” Sunset strutted towards the door. “Now if I remember correctly, Celestia reserved the West Parlor for us for today.”
“I still think this is a bad idea,” Midnight said, following the older pony. “It isn’t like I was born, so celebrating a birthday seems arbitrary.”
“It would be stranger not to celebrate one,” Sunset said. “And I think you deserve something after surviving with me taking care of you for a whole year. You lasted a lot longer than the goldfish.”
“Only because I can tell you when I’m hungry. You’d let me starve otherwise.” Midnight scurried after Sunset as they trotted through the palace. Sunset would have teleported, but the holes in the wards that she’d exploited a year ago had all been patched. She’d had to do a lot of the enchantment work herself as part of her punishment for breaking a priceless magical artifact.
Sunset rolled her eyes and held the door open for Midnight. The West Parlor was a fairly small room, at least compared to some of the palace’s huge ballrooms. A need to accommodate Princess Celestia had made most of the public areas of the castle rather huge in scale.
“It’s kind of empty,” Midnight whispered. There was a table set up with punch and cake, a few streamers and balloons, and only a few ponies in the room. All of them were palace staff.
“I wasn’t really sure who to invite,” Sunset admitted. “I don’t really do much for my birthday, and you really haven’t met a lot of ponies."
"Princess Cadance was nice. Is she coming?"
"I hope not," Sunset grumbled. "With any luck she's still in Yakyakistan."
Midnight's ears folded back, and she wondered if she'd said something wrong.
“Ah, Sunset, I thought you wouldn’t be here for a few more minutes.” The room grew a few degrees warmer as Princess Celestia entered through the large double doors across the parlor. Her timing was suspiciously perfect for somepony who was implying they were caught unaware.
“Princess,” Sunset said, lowering her gaze.
“This was a wonderful idea,” Celestia said. “It got your little one out of your room and got me away from a rather dull meeting about tax evasion. I swear, the Bluebloods would do anything to shave a few bits off of their civic duties, including spending twice as much in court arguing that they aren’t committing crimes.”
“Yes, Princess,” Sunset said, still looking at her hooves.
“Sunset, please,” Celestia sighed. “I already explained that I’m not angry with you. You made a mistake, you were punished, and it’s behind you now. The important thing is to learn from it, and from what I’ve seen, you have.” She smiled down at Midnight. “And we’ve got this cute little filly to thank for some of it.”
Midnight blushed. “T-thank you, Princess.”
“And I’ve brought a few presents as well,” Celestia said. “The first of which is your birthday cake. I happen to know some of the best bakers in the world, including Mister Gustave le Grand.”
“Is it a special cake?” Midnight asked.
“Very special,” Celestia smiled. “It’s got four types of chocolate. I almost stole a slice before you got a chance to see it.”
“I wouldn’t mind, Princess,” Midnight said. “I can’t eat a lot of cake.”
“Don’t say that until you try it,” Celestia smirked. “You have my permission to eat as much as you want, and since I’m your guardian’s teacher, she can’t say no.”
Midnight giggled. “Thank you!”
“I got you a few other little things that I think you’ll like. And I’m not the only one.” She motioned to a small group of wrapped boxes. “Why don’t you go take a look?”
“Okay!” Midnight grinned and ran off to paw through them, leaving Sunset and Celestia behind.
“She’s an adorable little foal,” Celestia said, quietly, lowering her head to speak more easily to her student.. “She reminds me of you at her age.”
When Sunset didn’t answer, she looked over at her student, who was still examining her hooves intently.
“Sunset, what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing, Princess,” Sunset said, quickly.
“It’s not nothing. I don’t like seeing you like this.” Celestia wrapped a wing around the unicorn, pulling her closer. “I know you're disappointed that you weren't able to repair the mirror, but it was made by Star Swirl, and even I am not entirely sure how the enchantment works. We agreed that it was safest to put it in storage until we could find a clue."
“I thought you were going to kick me out,” Sunset muttered. “I broke something over a dozen centuries old."
“Sunset, I wouldn’t do that to you. I care about you just as much as you care about Midnight.” Celestia smiled. “Sometimes, yes, that means I get frustrated when you aren’t living up to your potential. And sometimes it means I have to give you a little push in the right direction, even when you don’t want to go.”
“But we haven’t even had lessons since then, and-”
“And it’s about time we started getting back into the swing of things,” Celestia said, nodding. “If you’re ready to listen to what I’m teaching you, instead of just want you want to hear.”
“There are a lot of presents!” Midnight said, excited. “Can you help me open them, Mom?”
“I’m not-” Sunset swallowed the reflex, smiling nervously and pulling away from Celestia to join Midnight. It was a lot less awkward to shoot Midnight down when Celestia wasn't literally looking over her shoulder. “Sure. Where do you want to start?”
“Princess Cadance sent a card, so we should start with that,” Midnight said. “I read that it’s polite to start with the cards.”
“Such a refined lady,” Sunset snorted.
“Unlike somepony I remember who decided to open all of her birthday gifts at once to see if it was more exciting than doing it one at a time,” Celestia said. “If I recall correctly, it took hours to get all the wrapping paper cleaned up after it was shredded.”
“But the gifts were unharmed, so my calculations were correct,” Sunset said, defensively.
“Ah, yes. Of course,” Celestia said, not arguing.
“What’s it say?” Midnight asked, impatient.
Sunset opened the envelope and drew out the card. “It says ‘The greatest gift is love, but I hope this is a close second.’” Sunset revealed a ticket. “Looks like she got you some dance classes, squirt.”
“Dance classes?” Midnight tilted her head.
“It’s a good idea,” Sunset said. “You and I both know how clumsy you can be, kid. A few classroom sessions and you’ll be as light on your hooves as a pegasus.”
“That sounds fun,” Midnight smiled. “Maybe I’ll even get a cutie mark in it!”
“Maybe,” Sunset said, returning the filly’s smile. “But you’d have to practice really hard.”
“You should open the next one,” Celestia encouraged.
Sunset knelt down to whisper in Midnight’s ear. “She’s only interested in getting to the cake.” The filly giggled and picked out another present, pushing it from the pile with her nose. It was a box half the size of the foal, carefully and very precisely wrapped in purple paper.
“I’m gonna open this one next.” Midnight said. “Who’s it from?”
Sunset checked the small card on the box. “It’s from Twilight Velvet and Night Light.”
“Those are Twilight Sparkle’s parents,” Midnight said. “Why would they send me anything?”
“Because they’re very kind ponies.” Celestia said. “And you should write them a thank you card later.”
“First, you should open it,” Sunset said. Midnight nodded and carefully opened the package, using her hooves and, after a moment of frustration with the ribbon, her teeth. The box yielded to her assault, opening to reveal a stuffed toy almost as big as the filly who was picking it up.
“This is…” Midnight trailed off, looking at it. Something about it seemed so familiar. She squeezed the soft figure, the gray felt and button eyes pressing against her coat in a way that made her feel like she was on the edge of remembering something, like a dream that faded until it was just a single, wordless feeling.
“I think it’s hoofmade,” Sunset noted.
She looked up at Sunset. “I like it.”
“I had a toy like that a long time ago,” Sunset said. “I can’t remember what I named her.”
“As I recall, you named her Commander Striker and insisted that she was the only friend you needed,” Celestia said. “I also recall how many times I had to help you repair her after you tested spells on her.”
“It wasn’t that often,” Sunset mumbled, feeling an odd surge of guilt that her doll was sitting in the back of some closet gathering dust.
“Of course not,” Celestia agreed. “Now, might I make a royal request and ask that you open this one next?” Celestia smiled and pulled one of the other presents over to Midnight.
“O-of course you can, Princess,” Midnight said, putting the doll down next to her and taking the small box, only as big as her hoof. She carefully took the top off of the tiny package to reveal a golden maneclip embossed with a picture of the sun. As Midnight tilted it, the metal almost seemed to shimmer and glow from within.
“I thought about getting you a dress, but at your age, foals tend to grow out of them too quickly,” Celestia explained, lifting the hair clip up in her magic. “I decided to get you something that would be a bit longer-lasting than that. May I?”
Midnight nodded, and Celestia slipped the maneclip onto her dark mane, pinning her bangs on one side back behind her ear.
“That’s… is that orichalum?” Sunset asked. She leaned in closer to look at the metal.
“I’m a bit out of practice at forging it, but it came out well,” Celestia said. “It’s enchanted so you can always find it when you’re looking for it, and it won’t fall out unless you want it to come out.”
“Thank you, Princess,” Midnight smiled, the golden metal glimmering as if it was under the noon sun despite the dim light of the room.
“I also got you a few other things,” Celestia said. “Nothing too expensive-”
“Compared to that?” Sunset snorted. “I hope not. That could buy a house!”
Celestia laughed, leaning down to nuzzle Midnight for a moment. “Let an old mare spoil her granddaughter. It isn’t often enough that I get to celebrate a birthday for somepony who really needs to be spoiled.”
“Granddaughter?” Midnight asked, blushing.
"Everypony needs to be doted on once in a while," Celestia explained. "I haven't gotten to be somepony's grandmother in many, many years. I need to make sure I'm still in practice."
“Is that how it works?” Midnight asked, looking at Sunset for confirmation.
“W-well, I mean-” Sunset stammered, feeling rather put upon. She subconsciously looked around the room to make sure no one was around to spread rumors about how soft she was getting. “Yeah, sure ”
“Why don’t we open Sunset’s present for you next?” Celestia suggested. “I think the rest of mine can wait.”
Midnight looked up at Sunset expectantly, smiling. Sunset spotted her gift, one of the few left unwrapped, and pulled it over. Compared to Celestia’s precise wrapping, hers was clearly done via the method of using much more tape and paper than needed and just sort of balling up the wrapping paper around the gift and holding it in place.
“I’m not really good at wrapping stuff,” Sunset admitted.
“It’s okay. The fun part is unwrapping it!” Midnight grinned and took it, eager to see what treasure awaited her.
“Now this is going to take a little explanation,” Sunset said, as Midnight pulled the paper away, revealing a worn and heavily-used book. “This is the first spellbook Celestia ever gave me. Before I had it, I was…” she paused. “I was alone, and I had to figure things out without help. I read that book all the time. And more than that…” Sunset opened the book, revealing hoof-written notes in the margins. “This has everything I learned that the book didn’t cover. Better ways to cast spells, tips that Celestia gave me, that sort of thing.”
“And I can learn to do magic like you do if I read this?” Midnight asked, her eyes wide.
“No,” Sunset said. “Reading is only part of it. You also have to practice. Learning theory is nice and all but you have to be willing to actually try stuff and learn from your mistakes. I've made a lot of mistakes."
“So have I,” Celestia said. “The mark of a good teacher is a willingness to remember your own errors and help others avoid the same pitfalls. Perhaps we could invite her along to the lesson?”
“Really?” Midnight asked. “But wouldn’t I just slow you down? I mean, I’m not any good at magic.”
“Not any good at magic yet,” Sunset corrected.
“But before we go, we should make sure you have enough energy,” Celestia said. “I eat a few slices of cake every day, and I’m strong enough to raise the sun.”
“And you have to use a chair that’s reinforced enough to be considered a major structural component of the castle,” Sunset quipped.
“It’s called a throne,” Celestia said, raising her nose. She held the stuck-up pose for a few moments before losing her composure and giggling. “Now come along. The birthday filly gets the first slice.”
“That cake was amazing,” Midnight sighed, as she followed Sunset and Princess Celestia into a room that was reserved for practicing spellcasting. That largely meant making it fireproof and enchanting the windows to be unbreakable.
“You can have more after dinner,” Sunset said, patting her on the back. “If Princess Celestia doesn’t have it locked away in the Royal Cake Reserve for safekeeping.”
“It’s the most secure depository of baked goods in the world,” Celestia noted. “It was originally built to use vaults with preservation spells to hold a reserve of grain and fresh food in case of famine. Over time, when famines began to be less of a concern, I reserved a room to keep some of my favorite foods available all year. Like having a wine cellar, but for rare foods.”
“Rare foods like a thousand different cakes,” Sunset snorted. “She saves one every year.”
“It’s for a special occasion,” Celestia said, quietly. She cleared her throat and continued in a more normal tone. “Sunset, why don’t you begin with a summary of the last thing we were working on?”
"If I remember correctly,” Sunset said. "The last thing we were doing was working on creating a vector trap.”
“What’s that?” Midnight asked.
“It’s a type of magically isolated area of space. The name comes from the process used to make it - anything moving in any direction from the inside goes in a closed loop, while anything trying to get in from outside is transported in a curve around it. It’s like, um…” Sunset looked around, then grabbed a piece of paper. “Okay, so imagine the surface of this paper is the space inside the vector trap. Normally, things can go in from one side and out the other.” Her horn pulsed, and an arrow appeared on the paper, moving from one edge to the opposite and then off the page before vanishing. “But in a vector trap, all paths become closed loops.” She rolled it up so one edge touched the other. The arrow reappeared, and moved in tight circles around the paper. “It can’t leave now. That’s inside the vector trap. Outside, nothing can get in. Like on this piece of paper, there’s no edge to start on. It has to go around.”
“That sounds really complicated.” Midnight frowned.
“It’s very advanced magic,” Celestia said. “But it can be used for a lot of purposes. The principles involved form the basis of most teleportation, apparition, and banishment spells.”
Sunset looked at Midnight pensively. “Princess, maybe we should start with something easier. It has been a while, and I don’t want to scare Midnight off of magic forever.” She smiled. “I think you told me once that teaching somepony else is the best way to learn.”
“Indeed I did,” Celestia nodded. “In fact, since we have your first spellbook, why don’t we start with the basics of telekinesis?”
An hour later, Sunset and Celestia watched as the filly focused on the tea set the maids had put out on the table.
“It should take days to learn basic telekinesis,” Sunset whispered. “She shouldn’t even be able to channel magic like that yet.” She nodded towards the filly’s glowing horn.
“That would be true for a normal filly,” Celestia agreed. “But Midnight is hardly normal. Even putting her origins aside, she has nearly as much power at her disposal as you did at her age, not to mention a mother with rather extraordinary amounts of talent.”
Sunset smiled for a moment. “I remember when I first started learning magic with you. It was really…” She stopped, taking a deep breath to compose herself. “I was going to say it was nice, but that doesn’t really cover it, does it? It was the first time I ever felt like I really belonged anywhere.”
“Being different is hard for a foal,” Celestia said. “Being too talented, or not talented enough, not being of the same tribe as your friends, even just having different interests. When I took you in as my student, I told you that you were destined for greatness, and I meant it.”
“You’re still going to say that after I disobeyed you and broke an ancient, irreplaceable artifact?”
“Maybe it was for the best that it broke. You were getting obsessed with it. When I see you with Midnight, what I see is how much you’ve matured in such a short time. I’m proud of you.”
“I’m just doing the same things you did with me.” Sunset shrugged, blushing.
“Hopefully not all the same things. I introduced you to apocalypse magic a little earlier than I should have.” Celestia laughed quietly, trying not to break Midnight’s focus.
“It was fun to learn, though, because you were the one teaching me.”
"The Yaks found it significantly less 'fun' when you melted that glacier."
Midnight bit her lip as she concentrated, the ornate teacup rising into the air, surrounded by a wavering pink aura.
“Just try to keep the magic even,” Sunset said. “You’re doing great!”
“I think I’ve almost-” Midnight gasped as a sudden surge in the energy shattered the teacup. She immediately dropped it, the porcelain tinkling as it landed on the table. “Oh no! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to break it!”
“It’s only a teacup, Midnight,” Princess Celestia said. “Much less valuable than the lesson you learned. You’re much stronger than the average filly. One of the most important things about learning magic is learning to control it.” She picked up the pieces in her golden magic. “Using strength like yours when you haven’t been taught discipline and control will lead to breaking more than just a cup.”
“Can you fix it?” Midnight asked.
“Like this?” Celestia smiled and in a flash, the cup was restored, without even a crack to show it had been broken before. “That’s not hard.”
“What’s hard is if you… if you hurt somepony,” Sunset said. “Even if you didn’t mean to do it.”
“Did you ever hurt somepony?” Midnight asked, afraid.
“It was a long time ago,” Sunset said, trying to sound reassuring. “It was before Princess Celestia made me her student. The good thing is, you’ve got ponies around to help you. Even if I’m a little jealous about how quickly you’re picking things up.”
“But I broke the cup,” Midnight said. “I did it wrong.”
“You did it more right than wrong,” Sunset said. “And without even studying the basics first. With a little practice, you’re going to have it down like the back of your hoof.”
“I don’t really know the back of my hoof very well. I’ve only had it for a year,” Midnight said.
“Better than the back of your hoof, then,” Sunset said. “The point is that you’re good at this. Probably because you inherited a little something from me.”
“You really think so?” Midnight smiled, looking up at her.
“No doubt about it. We’ll really find out when we get to the fire spells.” She heard Celestia cough behind her. “Which we’ll learn after careful study of the dangers of hazardous magic, fire safety, and learning several extinguishing spells.”
“Better,” Celestia stage whispered, winking at Midnight. “She burned down the castle once.”
“That was your fault, not mine!” Sunset protested. “You told me, ‘Sunset, I want you to make the biggest flame you can’. And it didn’t burn down the castle. It only burned down part of the castle.”
“Of course, Sunset, as you say,” Celestia said. “Only part of the stone castle.”
“Can you tell me the story?” Midnight asked.
“Certainly, my little pony,” Celestia fluttered her wings, getting ready to tell the tale. “Once upon a time, in the land of Equestria, Sunset Shimmer was a sly, passionate filly about your age, who wanted nothing more than to impress her teacher, no matter the cost in property damage…”
Midnight sat down next to Sunset, leaning against her as Celestia told the story. Sunset sighed and settled in, smiling despite the fact that the story was about one of her few failures.