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// Equestrian Interlude (Rewritten) 
// Story: SAPR 
// by Scipio Smith 
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Equestrian Interlude


The doors to Celestia's throne room creaked open. The princess herself stood at the far end of the great chamber, atop the dais and just before the throne from which she had, for a thousand years, ruled wisely and well over the land of Equestria. Twilight advanced down the traverse, her hoof-falls soft upon the crimson carpet, and in spite of all of her accomplishments, she still felt a touch of that habitual nervousness that she had always felt in the presence of her old teacher.
Spike walked by her side. In Twilight's saddle-bag, the magical book - Sunset Shimmer's book - weighed heavily. Why had Celestia requested that she bring it with her, and why had she asked Twilight and Spike to come to Canterlot to see her at once? Who was Sunset Shimmer, and how did she know Princess Celestia? And why had Celestia given Twilight the book that was meant to serve as their means of contact?
"Twilight," Celestia's voice was almost maternal in its warmth, and as Twilight approached, Celestia descended from the dais with a fond smile upon her ageless face. She craned her neck down to embrace Twilight, and for a moment, student and teacher nuzzled each other warmly. "It's wonderful to see you again, both of you," she added, including Spike in her greeting. "Thank you for coming on such short notice... and for telling me that Sunset Shimmer had made contact with you."
"Of course, Princess," Twilight said. "But I don't understand; who is Sunset Shimmer? And, if this book was intended to let the two of you communicate over great distances, then why did you give it to me?"
Celestia raised her head and looked over the heads of Twilight and her friends into nothing, or perhaps into the past where Twilight could not see. For a moment, she seemed to age before Twilight's eyes, and her eyes filled with sadness and regret. "Sunset Shimmer was a pupil of mine, just as you were," she said. "Before I taught you, I once taught Sunset."
Twilight gasped.
“You mean as more than just another unicorn at your school, don’t you?” Spike asked. “She was your personal student, just like Twilight."
"Indeed," Celestia replied. "Before Twilight, Sunset Shimmer was my personal student, my protégé."
"But I thought you only took Twilight on as your personal student because of how powerful her magic was?" Spike protested.
Celestia nodded. "That is correct, Spike; however, Sunset's magic was every bit as powerful at Twilight's was, or close enough."
"But… if that's true, then why haven't I heard of her?" Twilight said. "Why hasn't anyone heard of such a talented unicorn? Why didn't you tell me about her, that you had a student before me?"
"Sunset strayed from that path a long time ago." Celestia closed her eyes for a moment. "Please, follow me, both of you. I will explain everything as we go."
She led the way out of the throne room via the rear door, leaving the younger alicorn and the dragon to follow her into the recesses of the castle. "I did not teach Sunset exactly as I taught you, Twilight. I was... more honest with her about what I expected and what I believed that her destiny could be."
"You told her about ascension," Twilight said. "You told her that she could become an alicorn and a princess?"
Celestia nodded. "I told her everything; that proved to be a mistake. The knowledge that she was destined for greatness caused Sunset's pride to swell; she became ungovernable, consumed by a sense of her own destiny and impatient of anything that seemed to deny her what she considered rightfully hers."
“I’m guessing she didn’t make the cut,” Spike muttered. “Not least because we’ve never heard of her, but also because she doesn’t seem much like the kind of pony to earn her wings.”
Celestia chuckled softly. "Very perceptive, Spike; that was the irony of Sunset Shimmer's life: that in her heedless impatience to ascend, she rendered herself unworthy of ascension and cut herself off from the destiny to which she aspired. For a time, I hoped that she could learn better, that if only she would repent and open her heart up to the magic of friendship, then… but it was not to be. Sunset was running from something she could not escape, consumed by an emptiness that she could never fill. When it became clear to me that she would never ascend… she took it as a betrayal and fled. That is why, when I began to teach you, I kept you ignorant of my hopes for you, Twilight; I hoped that without that burden to distort your expectations, you would grow without..."
"Without becoming like her," Twilight supplied. She shivered slightly at the prospect that she could have become - and easily, so easily - just like the Sunset Shimmer of Celestia's account: proud, vain, and headstrong, impatient with others and with the world, arrogant, heartless. The Sunset that was revealed through her own account, what she had written unbidden in the magical journal, seemed cut from the same cloth: full of complaints about these strangely named people, Weiss, Cardin, Jaune, and Pyrrha, without the slightest hint that Sunset Shimmer had any flaws at all.
“Come on, Princess,” Spike cried. “There’s no way that Twilight could ever become like that.”
Twilight smiled down at him and placed a gentle hoof atop his head. "That's very kind of you, Spike, and sweet, but it's the influence of all my friends in Ponyville, more than any innate virtues of mine, that keep me on the right path." She didn’t really want to consider that alternative, that some people were just born good and others were just born evil. Not only was the notion anathema to her - after all, she had witnessed Discord himself reformed and redeemed by a simple act of kindness - but more to the point… if Twilight herself was born good, naturally and innately so, and by that quality of innate nature suited for ascension and the crown then… what did that make her predecessor? Innately wicked? But how could Celestia’s choice of student fall upon someone whose soul had from birth been black as filth? Surely, her teacher could not be so fallible. No, it was not so; it could not be so. Sunset had light within her, just as Twilight had darkness within her that the light of the friendships she had made drowned out and put to flight. Sunset had this Ruby Rose, who was the only person she talked about with any degree of affection, but even then, Ruby’s light seemed filtered by opaque glass, its influence constrained by Sunset’s refusal to acknowledge the light of friendship for what it was.
Perhaps it was Twilight’s task to make her acknowledge.
Twilight continued, "But, Princess Celestia, when you say that Sunset left… where did she go?"
"What I am about to show you is one of the rarest - and possibly the most dangerous - treasures of Equestria," Celestia said. Her horn glowed golden as she opened a door. 
“What is it?” Spike demanded. “Some kind of really cool weapon?”
The door swung open. Inside was a mirror, an antique-looking but otherwise quite unremarkable seeming mirror.
"I… gotta say, that's a bit of a letdown compared to what I was expecting,” Spike declared. "You did say this was one of the most dangerous treasures in Equestria, right?"
"This is no ordinary mirror," Celestia said. "For three days every thirty moons, this mirror becomes a portal to another world."
Twilight's eyes widened. "Another… world?"
Celestia nodded. "It was through the mirror that Sunset fled when her destiny was denied to her. She sought to find in that world what had been barred to her in this one. For a time, I thought that she might return some day, but… as time passed, that hope dwindled. The diary that you have was a way for us to stay in touch, since Sunset had no dragon assistant as you do.” Princess Celestia looked down at Spike and smiled. But it was a fleeting smile, gone as swiftly as it sprung onto her face. “You asked me why I gave you Sunset’s book. The answer is that I could not bear to look at it any longer.”
Twilight stared up at her teacher, her second mother, and felt a great well of pity in her heart. “Princess Celestia…”
“For a long time, I kept the journal close,” Princess Celestia said. “Hoping that she would write, hoping that things could be made right between us, hoping… praying that she would say something, even to let me know that she was safe. No word came.”
“Did you think about making the first move yourself?” Spike asked.
“Of course,” Princess Celestia replied. “But after the way that things had stood at our parting, I feared to make things worse. I was afraid that if I addressed her, Sunset would only reply to confirm how much she hated me. The years passed, and in the end, I was forced to conclude that Sunset would never write to me again. Either because she had perished or lost the journal or simply… simply because she hated me so much. It has been so long that I was not expecting her to make contact. I am glad to know that she is still alive."
Alive, yes, but far from happy. Twilight hesitated a moment. "Princess Celestia… what do you want to do now? With the diary, about Sunset?"
Celestia stared into the mirror, as if, instead of her own reflection, she could see through it to the world that lay on the other side. "That is not for me to say," she replied. "I have failed Sunset once already."
Of course it comes to me. It always seems to, in the end. And I am the Princess of Friendship; what does that mean if not that it is my responsibility to reach people like Sunset Shimmer? "I… I'd like to keep writing to her, if you will permit me, Princess."
“Twilight, are you sure about this?” Spike asked. “I mean… no offence, Princess Celestia, but this Sunset Shimmer seems kinda nasty.”
"She can't hurt me through a book," Twilight replied. "But maybe I can help her through a book, and if I can… I think I have to try." She hesitated, knowing what she had to ask but nervous about actually doing so. “Princess Celestia… is there anything that you’d like me to say to Sunset for you?”
Celestia closed her eyes, and her face was contorted with an expression of such profound sorrow and regret that Twilight in turn regretted having raised such painful memories in one whom she loved almost as a mother. For a while, Celestia was silent, seeming to wrestle with the past she had thought banished beyond recall. “Tell her… tell Sunset I am glad that she is alive, and that more than alive, I hope that she is well and content. Tell her… and tell her… please tell her how very sorry I am, for all the things that I said… and all the things that I did not say.”