//------------------------------//
// 6: Childhood. 
// Story: Reunions and Laments 
// by Coyote de La Mancha 
//------------------------------//

.
It turned out that Cadence was not, in fact, the Princess of Music. Or the Princess of Order, which would have been Sunrise’s second guess. And when Twilight had first told Sunrise what her title (Portfolio? Area of Influence?) was, Sunrise had certainly been puzzled. 
So, Twilight had told her about being foal-sat by her, a little of her public history, and even a brief version of her wedding to Shining Armor and the misadventure surrounding it.
(“So, you’re saying the wedding march ended with a false Cadence?” Sunrise had quipped.
Twilight had given her a puzzled look. “I suppose. Why?”
“Nothing,” Sunrise had grinned. “Do go on.”)
Now, it was the late afternoon, and the train was pulling into the station in a cloud of steam and the squealing of steel on steel. Princess Celestia had written to Cadence that Sunset had come back, and the other monarch had immediately arranged to travel to Ponyville to meet her.
Which, to Sunrise, had seemed a bit of an overreaction. Sunset, wide-eyed, had emphatically agreed. Twilight Sparkle, for her part, was simply puzzled. 
“I still don’t understand,” the pegasus said as the train rolled to a stop. “Isn’t she a queen in her own kingdom? I’m not complaining, but how can she just drop her duties like this?”
“Cadence and her husband are co-regents,” Celestia assured her. “Shining Armor is quite capable of covering for her for a few days. Just as she covers for him, on occasion.”
“Which, of course, usually means only getting to see them one at a time,” Princess Twilight admitted. “And then, only briefly. Except when I go to visit them, of course.” 
She paused, adding, “Which I really need to do again sometime, actually.”
Just then, the train doors opened, allowing a small flood of ponies to spill out onto the wooden platform. There was the inevitable gasping and bowing, of course, the crowd giving the royal party a wide berth out of respect.
Celestia sighed as she smiled, waved, and nodded at the various passers-by. “I don’t know what I was thinking, meeting her in public. I really should have waited at the palace.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Twilight said under her breath, also smiling and waving. “They’d still be doing it if it was just me. Just not quite so much.”
Celestia’s royal smile remained unwavering. “Really? I had thought you’d managed to maintain a certain informality in your station.”
Twilight’s smile became strained as they both continued waving and nodding. “Only in Ponyville,” she replied.
Most of the disembarking ponies, it seemed, were indeed from out of town. They showed every sign of being quite overtaken by the presence of so much royalty in such a simple setting.
At last, after the cars had emptied, a single figure emerged. Her baggage gently floating in a blue aura behind her, the pink alicorn walked to Celestia. Without a word, they embraced warmly. Then, Celestia turned to Sunset.
“Cadence, this is my daughter, Sunset Shimmer. Sunset, this is my niece, Cadence.”
“I am so happy to meet you at last,” Cadence said.
Sunset winced. “You… heard of me, huh?”
But Cadence smiled at her warmly. “No. Not until last night, and even then not much. Celestia has always respected your privacy. But I could always see there was a hole in her heart. And now, I get to see it filled at last, the young mare she loves so much having come back into her life.”
Her smile grew. “You can’t know how happy that makes me.”
Sunset smiled back at her, and the two of them embraced. Celestia looked on happily at both her former charges, and Princess Twilight beamed. Human-born Twilight smiled as well, delighted at her fiancé’s newfound happiness. From around them, scattered applause sprang forth from the crowd, and even the engineer looked back at the royal party with a smile. Meanwhile, birds flew a little lower, singing happily as the two broke apart again. 
For her part, Sunrise observed the scene, looking around herself with quiet appreciation. The sunlight seemed just a little brighter, the breeze just a little more fragrant. And all the ponies around them – friends, family, even strangers – seemed just a little closer to one another than they had been before. Herself included.
So, Sunrise thought. This is the Princess of Love.




. 
A short time later they were all in the Castle of Friendship, enjoying tea and cake together. After some cajoling, Spike had agreed to join them, happily sprinkling bits of ruby onto his cake and pouring immense amounts of sugar into his tea.
The stream of conversation meandered, split and reunited again, and occasionally dissolved into friendly laughter. 
Eventually, the discussion turned to Equestrian history. And, inevitably...
“Well, Star Swirl the Bearded is the ultimate high bar for unicorn magic, of course,” Princess Twilight observed.
“Until recently perhaps,” Celestia nodded with a smile. “I do believe he has some competition in modern times.”
One of Princess Twilight’s ears went flat. “Really? Who?”
“Of course, each of the Pillars was the high water mark for their own Element,” Sunset said.
“Indeed,” Luna nodded. “One would be hard pressed to find such ponies again, even a thousand years later.”
“Wait, who?” the human Twilight asked. “Excuse my butting in, but... who were the Pillars? Were they rulers? Heroes?”
“Champions,” said Celestia. “And stalwart friends.”
“Especially Star Swirl,” Luna added. “First a pupil, then a mentor. But always a friend.” Yet there was a melancholy that seemed to have overtaken both the sisters.
“I’m sorry,” Twilight Sparkle said. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, dear one,” Celestia said. “It’s just that, though the Pillars were wise and valiant, their tale ends in terrible tragedy.”
Luna took another sip. “Time has blunted the pain, in a sense,” she said. “But one never stops mourning dear friends, even as one never stops celebrating their lives.”
Celestia sighed. “Rockhoof. Mistmane.” 
“Somnambula. Meadowbrook,” Luna added quietly. 
“Flash Magnus.”
“Star Swirl.”
As one, the sisters drank, then put their cups down, contemplating the leaves within.
“Stygian,” they said.
For a moment, the room was silent. Then, Luna glanced at Sunrise.
“You seem confused, dear one,” she said.
“Um.” Sunrise looked at her uncertainly. “Well, a little, yeah. But I don’t want to intrude...”
As one, the sisters shook off the melancholy of centuries.
“It’s no intrusion,” Celestia said.
“You sure?”
Both sisters nodded.
“Please,” Luna said. “ask.”
“Well, okay...” Sunrise ran a hoof along her stripe of a mane, then said, “It’s just, well, I had thought there were only six elements. Even then.”
Princess Twilight poured them all some more tea. “Well, technically, yes. But remember that Stygian wasn’t exactly one of the Pillars.”
“Oh. Well, who was he then?”
Silence.
Aside from Sunset and her fiancé, every pair of eyes was staring at Sunrise, completely thunderstruck. For her part, Sunrise was feeling more and more like she had just desecrated a shrine with every second. Finally, Princess Twilight found her voice.
“Are you... serious?”
Sunset looked at the youngest princess. “Twilight, my world doesn’t have a Stygian’s Lament. Or his story. Nothing even close.”
Princess Twilight stared between the two otherworldly twins, realization dawning, even as the other princesses exchanged looks of shock.
“Oh,” she managed quietly. “Oh, my gosh.”
Sunset nodded. “Yeah.”
Meanwhile, Sunrise and Twilight looked from Princess Twilight to Sunset and back, their confusion growing. 
Finally, Sunrise asked, “Okay... Is it cool if somepony clues me in, here?”
Sunset looked at the youngest alicorn. “Traditionally, it’s really more Twilight’s place to tell you about this.”
The Princess of Friendship nodded. “Yeah. I had thought we’d talk about this later, but you’re right, this can’t wait.” She turned to her student, saying, “Sunrise, would you come with me, please?”
Sunrise looked around, then back to her mentor. “You mean right… now?”
“Please.”
“Yyyeah, okay,” Sunrise blinked. “Sure.”
She followed her mentor, giving the pegasus Twilight a shrug of helpless confusion. Once the door closed behind them, Twilight Sparkle turned to the ponies around her.
“So, is this something I’m permitted to know?”
“Of course,” said Cadence, taking another sip. “Especially in light of your interest in Equestrian culture.”
Celestia looked to her daughter. ”Sunset, would you care to do the honors?”
Sunset nodded. “Sure.” She set her own cup down, levitated a small sandwich closer. “Okay, to put this in context, you have to understand: the ponies this concerns, talking about them is kind of like talking about the crew of the Argos… only if they were all verifiable historical figures. Literally the six greatest heroes of the world – wizards, warriors, and healers – all teamed up in one group. Now, picture if they’d been led by Merlin, instead of Jason.”
Twilight nodded. “Okay, impressive so far.”
“Right. Now, imagine if instead of stealing a magical artifact, they were repeatedly defending their world from unspeakable dangers. Their efforts literally saved the known world multiple times. They also helped shape pony society, and established or strengthened many of the political ties between ponies and other speaking folk that still exist today.”
The pegasus frowned. “Okay. And, Stygian was one of them?” 
Sunset shook her head. “Not exactly. You see…”




.
Sunrise followed Twilight back into the sanctum, feeling more uneasy with each step. This was some kind of lesson, obviously, but that didn’t explain why Twilight seemed so grim. Nor did it explain why Twilight closed the doors behind them with magic, and barred them.
Yeah, Sunrise thought. Not good.
“Um, Twilight? What’s going on?”
“You’ve read about the Pillars of Old Equestria, of course,” Twilight said.
Sunrise frowned. “You know I have.”
“Well, you’ve only read the basics. Their great deeds, Star Swirl’s power and brilliance, et cetera. And that’s my fault, I only gave you a basic starting itinerary. And Stygian wasn’t in those books.”
“So, was he an enemy of theirs? I never found out what happened to them, at the end…”
“No, it wasn’t anything like that. He was their friend.”
“And? What happened?”
“It’s… not an easy story to tell,” Twilight admitted. “Especially when you’ve spent as long researching Star Swirl’s work and life as I have. He was brilliant, dedicated, a master magician in every way…” 
Then, she sighed. 
“…except for this,” she finished. 




.
“Stygian was a scholar,” Twilight explained. “A master of lore, a brilliant researcher, and a battle tactician. It was Stygian who first recognized the need for the Pillars to unite, and it was Stygian who brought them together into an unstoppable team. 
“But he wasn’t a fighter, or a magician. Although he was a unicorn, even the most rudimentary telekinesis was almost impossible for him. And he wasn’t physically strong, despite Rockhoof’s best attempts to help him train. All he had was his mind. 
“That being said, his mind was incredibly powerful. Some sources claim he had a memory comparable to that of Princess Celestia’s, though there’s no way that’s anything but exaggeration. But he did have an ability to correlate ideas and create new ones that put even Star Swirl’s brilliance to shame. He was also a mathematician and architect, and could speak several languages fluently. It was Stygian who introduced the Pillars to other cultures, and smoothed over conflicts as they traveled the world. He was even a good writer, and a fair poet.
“But his body was too frail to actually go into battle. He wouldn’t have survived. And like I said, though he could research and advise on any spell of his time – second only to Star Swirl, of course – he couldn’t cast them. Star Swirl referred to his situation once as a cruel joke the universe had played at Stygian’s expense. He could give counsel, and put together plans that saved the day countless times… but only from the shadows.”
Sunrise considered this. “Hm. Did he name himself, or was he given that name at birth?”
“The records don’t say. But they do state how, as the fame of the Pillars grew, they started ignoring his advice. Sometimes with bad results. And even when it seemed to go alright… well, ask Sunset to tell you about the sirens sometime. Stygian wanted the Pillars to talk with them, and even offered to negotiate with them himself. He was ignored. Instead, Star Swirl used a spell that he’d created to banish them to Sunset’s world.
“According to Star Swirl, that’s when Stygian probably started his own secret research, away from the Pillars.”
Twilight sighed. “They were so caught up in everything else, they didn’t even notice him becoming more distant, spending more time apart from them. Later, when he stopped traveling with them, they took the news with a sigh of relief. In his last journal entries Star Swirl even notes how, in hindsight, he’d partially pushed Stygian into his later actions, by discounting his contributions and neglecting their friendship.”
Sunrise stared. “His last journal entries? Holy crap. Did Stygian… kill them?”
But Twilight shook her head. “No. He didn’t. But they caught him, months later, trying to steal personal artifacts of power from them. 
“And so, they… repudiated him. They banished him from their number. Star Swirl goes into some detail about what was said, and by whom. And in hindsight, it was pretty cruel. Granted, they thought their friend had betrayed them, and was stealing their possessions so he could steal their abilities.
She gave a helpless shrug. “And theoretically, he could have. Sorcery or not, the stallion was brilliant. But they also should have known better.”
“So, he hadn’t betrayed them,” Sunrise said. “And they still turned him out. Damn, that’s horrible. So, what was he trying to do, then? Do we know?”
“Yeah,” the princess said sadly. “He told them.”




.
It was a fine full moon above the Pillars’ camp as they celebrated their latest victory in the refreshing autumn breeze. The dragon had been strong, especially for her age. But she had also been arrogant, and they had easily brought her down. 
Even Stygian’s shadow was slender as it fell across their camp from the cliffside above, the harvester’s moon bright behind him. His scholar’s cape rippled slightly in the wind, his short mane in greater than usual disarray.   
The six heroes glanced up at the interruption, then fell silent, their eyes narrowing into identical expressions of distrust.
“What dost thou want here, Stygian?” Star Swirl demanded, spitting the other stallion’s name like a curse.
The small stallion looked down on them all, his face shrouded in shadow. His voice low and strained.
“I came to say I’m sorry,” he said.
Features softening, Mistmane took a step forward. Star Swirl, still scowling, held out an arm to stop the elderly mare. 
“’Tis a trap,” he said.
But Stygian shook his head.
“Nay,” he said. “No trap. I know I cannot be forgiven. But I had to try.” His voice became weak as he continued, “To… to atone.” 
“Atone?” Somnambula demanded. “For betraying us?”
“For trying to steal our ability to help others?” Meadowbrook snapped.
“For thy weakness of heart?” Rockhoof frowned.
“Thy cowardice?” Flash Magnus snarled.
“Stygian” Mistmane said, “I want to believe thee. But, how can we trust thee now? Or ever again?”
“You can’t, of course,” Stygian nodded sadly. “I understand that.”
He coughed slightly, then wiped something from his mouth. 
“There are some transgressors who cannot be forgiven,” he went on. “Who have placed themselves beyond trust or redemption. Even as I have done. Yet, I had hoped—”
He was cut off by a sudden, terrible fit of coughs that wracked his body. Losing his balance, still coughing, Stygian fell, rolling down the cliff side.
With a cry, Meadowbrook ran to him, meeting him even as he came to rest at the cliff’s base. The others, even Star Swirl, were close behind her. The healer caught him as he came to rest, cradling his head in her lap.
The blood on the small pony’s face was plain to see now, as was the blood on his hoof where he had wiped it away. In the silvery moonlight, it seemed almost black.
“I had hoped…” his voice trailed off. Then he shuddered, and was still.
Meadowbrook looked to Starswirl, eyes full of tears. She opened her mouth to speak, when a radiance began to glow from within Stygian’s body, illuminating the campsite.
“Look out!” Star Swirl reflexively threw up a series of defenses, encasing each of the Pillars in a mystic shield of silver, proof against any magical attack.
But there was no attack.
Stygian’s body shimmered, dissolved, then burst into a rainbow of tiny luminescent spheres. They swirled for an instant around where he had been, then, as if carried by unfelt winds, scattered in all directions.
All, save for six, which drifted effortlessly through Star Swirl’s protections and into the hearts of each pony there.
Star Swirl could hear Stygian’s words clearly. Gentle and soft, he could have heard them over a thunderclap.
I’m sorry I stole thy book, Stygian’s voice echoed from within the magician’s heart. It was foolish, and wrong. I never wanted to take thy power away from thee. Only to understand it better, to copy it, to emulate what had allowed thee to help so many others. 
I’m sorry I never told thee how much thy friendship meant to me. All I ever wanted was to stand with thee, to fight by thy side. I admired you all so much. And in my desperation, I drove you away.
I’m so sorry. 
Then, the glow faded into nothingness, Stygian’s voice silenced forever. Stricken, Star Swirl looked up at his companions. Their eyes mirrored his own anguish, his own horror.
The rest of the night was spent in silence. There was nothing left to say.




.
“…and that was the first casting of Stygian’s Lament,” Twilight finished.
Sunrise stared at her mentor. “God… damn.”
Twilight nodded. “The Pillars drifted apart after that. Their camaraderie had already been broken, really, through their dismissal of Stygian’s efforts. But his death was the final straw. Their hearts just weren’t in it, anymore. For most of them, their final fates remain unknown.”
“But not Star Swirl,” Sunrise prompted.
Twilight gave a weak smile. “No,” she said. “Not Star Swirl.
“At first, Star Swirl went out of his way to make certain that the truth about Stygian was known. After he destroyed all the notes on the spell, of course. He wanted to make things right, or at least as right as he could. So he traveled across Equestria, telling the story of his dead friend and how he had failed him. He hoped that maybe somepony else would learn from his mistakes, and not repeat them.
“But Star Swirl had underestimated how easy it could be to re-create the spell, once there was a detailed description of the effects. After all: for him, all magic was easy. He didn’t realize his mistake until he started hearing stories about other ponies, dying in the same way. Especially ponies in their teens. And most of all, he heard about the heartache they left behind. 
“Star Swirl realized that he had not only made a terrible mistake, but instead of fixing it had compounded it further. He also realized that, once that knowledge was loose, there was nothing he could do to restrain it. Left unchecked, Stygian’s Lament would become a tradition among ponykind, a ritualized magical suicide. In fact, it had already started to.
“So, Star Swirl met with Celestia and Luna one final time. They had tea together… and then, he stepped through one of his mirrors, never to be seen again. But as he stepped through, he asked them to intervene in the matter of Stygian’s Lament. Not as his mentors or his students, or even as his friends, but as the diarchs of Equestria.
“And, they did. Neither Luna nor Celestia is much into giving royal decrees. But the following day, in unison, they gave two.
“The first was a forbiddance of all research into Stygian’s Lament, no matter the cause or reason. Any who tried - no matter their age or circumstance - were to be immediately brought before Princess Luna for judgement, regardless of the hour.”
Sunrise smiled a little. “Yeah, that sounds a lot like ‘Let’s get these kids some counseling.’”
“In a lot of cases, I’m sure it was. But the second decree was a mandate to establish a new tradition of their own. A tradition in which the story of Stygian’s Lament is shared as part of a teaching lesson for every foal, everywhere. And that tradition has continued, from that day to this.”
“So, is that why forgiveness is such a big deal around here?” Sunrise asked. “The fear of suicide?”
Twilight shook her head. “No, it’s not that. Celestia and Luna have always ruled with an emphasis on compassion, forgiveness, and understanding. The problem is the circumstances under which Stygian’s Lament is cast. And that, well, it’s such a simple spell in the first place.”
Sunrise looked at her incredulously. “Simple? With those kinds of results?”
Twilight nodded. “Sir James Friesian’s Law of Sympathy demands that the regrets binding the caster with other ponies would be drawn to them, once the caster no longer existed. The intensity of each emotional connection would guarantee it. Like a bunch of rubber bands stretched from a center point, and then let go, to snap outwards in a radius. 
“And the spell automatically devours the caster – using up their net potential energy to create the spheres of light that carry those regrets through the Law of Contagion – because of the emotional content of the casting itself.” She shuddered. “You could almost call it a natural process, if it weren’t so horrific.”
Sunrise frowned. “But, wouldn’t it be hard to cast, then? The energy involved, I mean, you’re converting matter and life force into—”
But Twilight shook her head. “Think of it as a kind of critical mass, like in the doomsday weapons where you come from. The energy source to start the process is specific, and you do need a tremendous amount of it. But once that source is in place, it only needs a spark of will and knowledge to start it off. And once started, it’s a chain reaction. It just carries on until it runs itself out.”
“Okay, so… what’s the energy source?”
“Remember how we’ve been talking about the relationship between emotion and magic?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So, tell me something about that.”
Sunrise closed her eyes. “Magic is a question of will, but not of will alone,” she recited. “The greater the knowledge, the more powerful the magician. The greater the passion, the stronger the spell. Passion is the light, knowledge the lens that directs and focuses that light. Yet all of this is only possible through the magician’s will.”
Twilight cocked her head. “Who said that?”
“Canterus Agrippa,” Sunrise smiled. “I probably misquoted him, though.”
“Not a work I’m familiar with. From Sunset’s world?” 
“Yeah.”
Twilight nodded with approval, her face still serious. “I’ll need to ask Sunset about him. It’ll be interesting comparing the stuff you’ve read to the works of his counterpart here. Still, whether you misquoted him or not, you’re right. So, logically, what emotion would simultaneously set the stage for a spell like this, and fuel it?”
Sunrise thought for a moment, then paled. “Despair,” she said. “Absolute, crippling, self-devouring despair.”
“Yeah,” Twilight said, quietly. “Exactly.”




.
“Despair is one of the only two emotions that have no positive application in magic… the other being, of course, hatred,” Twilight went on. “Neither hatred nor despair have any place in beneficial magic. 
“But despair is more dangerous than hatred, because it sneaks up on you. It skews your perceptions without you realizing it until it’s too late. The more powerful the despair, the more overpowering the shift in perceptions, and the greater the emotional power available. Which means that by the time a pony is in a state of mind to actually cast Stygian’s Lament – in whatever form – they’ve already got everything they need to do it.” 
Twilight shrugged. “Technically, you also need some basic metaphysical theory to re-create the spell. But, we’re talking grade school stuff. Nothing more.
“And like I said, you don’t need to be a unicorn to cast the spell,” Twilight continued sadly. “It’s too basic, too elemental. Every pony has magic within them, more than most creatures across the world. Pegasi fly and walk on clouds, and influence the weather. Earth ponies have their special relationship with life and the earth. And yes, unicorns have sorcery. But anypony can tap into their own inner magic. Which means that anypony can destroy themselves. Because, while the emotion and focus start the process, it’s the pony’s very life force that is ultimately consumed by the spell. Right down to their physicality, until nothing is left at all. 
“Which… brings us to now.”
Sunrise shifted uneasily as Twilight stepped up to her. “You asked if this was why our society is so focused on forgiveness. And no, it isn’t. But Stygian’s Lament is the reason why talks like this are so important. Why everypony has this kind of talk at least once in their lives. Usually with their parents, before they even start school.
“Because Stygian didn’t have to die. Nopony who has ever cast that spell – in any form – ever did. Because, in the grand scheme of things, there’s no such thing as an unforgivable crime.”
Sunrise raised an eyebrow. “Really.”
But Twilight nodded. “Really. Look at Discord’s history, sometime… at least, what little is known of it. Or, well… any number of ponies. Think of how different the world would be if they hadn’t been forgiven, or if they couldn’t be.”
Sunrise nodded slowly, thinking of another alicorn in her life.
“In Ponish, ‘repair’ and ‘repent’ have the same root word,” Twilight went on. “And there’s a reason for that. If you wrong somepony, you do need to make up for it. Granted, most times, it isn’t that hard. But sometimes, it is. In the rarest instances, it might take a lifetime. Maybe several. Just the same, even if you will never be able to truly make up for something you did, you still have to try. Because suicide repairs exactly nothing. And without making up for what was done, there is no penance. There’s only more pain.
“And nopony, no creature, anywhere, is beyond mercy and compassion. No crime is unforgivable, so long as there is genuine penance. Which means no one is irredeemable. Anyone can be forgiven. Pony, human, whatever.” She looked at Sunrise. “Anyone.”
Sunrise nodded. “Got it.”
But Twilight shook her head. “No, I don’t think you do. Sorry, but I need you to say it. Out loud. Right now.”
Sunrise frowned in confusion. “Say what?”
“Anyone can be forgiven.”
Sunrise looked dubious. “Um…”
“Say, ‘anyone can be forgiven.’”
“Why are you…?”
“Anyone can be forgiven. Say it.”
“But—”
Twilight stepped forward into Sunrise’s space with a strange intensity. “Anyone. Can be. Forgiven.”
Sunrise stepped back, looking around uncertainly. The colors around her seemed strangely more vivid, the shadows somehow vanishing without any increase in light. The books seemed more real, with a presence and gravity all their own, even as the light crystals flared in their sconces and the walls curved strangely, the shelves’ corners smoothing into a continual arc around them. 
Minerva was awake now, staring around herself in sheer terror. Sunrise forced herself to face the princess again. “Uh, Twilight, this is getting—”
Twilight took another step forward. “Say it,” she snarled. The walls and bookshelves arched over both of them unnaturally, the ceiling slowly rising upwards with a groan. Everything was impossibly vivid, impossibly detailed. More real, somehow, than any living thing could ever be.
Sunrise’s flank butted against a table. She gasped at the contact, half-expecting to phase through it, insubstantial as any ghost. Above Twilight’s head, the geodic patterns of the sanctum walls churned like an angry sea.
“Twilight—”
“Say it!”
“I—”
Twilight’s eyes flared with a white light as she roared with the voice of an enraged sphinx, “Damn you to very Tartarus, Sunrise Shimmer, SAY IT!”
Sunrise’s eyes went wide. “Anyone can be forgiven!”
For a moment, the two of them stood, staring at each other. Twilight, still radiating a power that Sunrise had never thought possible. Sunrise, still staring at Twilight as she pressed against the table behind her.
Then, her eyes fading back into their usual violet, Twilight looked away, sat back on her haunches. The room silently returned to the state it had been, its otherworldly vividness and dimensions fading away. 
There was a fluttering sound as the owl flew out a newly-opened window, vanishing into the daylight.
“I’m…” Twilight started, then shook her head and looked at her hooves. “No, I won’t apologize. I can’t. Even if you never learn anything else from me, if this is honestly all you ever get from me, then… mission accomplished.”
Sunrise studied her friend, still a little uneasy. “Are you… okay?”
“Yeah.” But Twilight’s voice was a little strained as she continued looking down. 
“Twilight, I don’t understand. What…?”
Twilight took a shuddering breath. Then she spoke again, still addressing the floor. 
“I had this talk twice, actually. It’s part of learning unicorn magic. Once with your parents, and then once when you’re older, with your magic teacher. After all, using sorcery means your mistakes have a greater chance of affecting others. Much greater.
“My second talk was with Celestia.” 
Tears struck the floor tiles as Twilight went on, “I‘d just entered her apprenticeship. I was nine. And she… she really scared the crap out of me. I don’t think I ever really got just why she was so intense about it, until today. But yeah, the idea of somepony you care about, someone you love, not understanding that is,” she swallowed, then managed, “completely and absolutely terrifying.”
Finally, she looked up at Sunrise, cheeks wet, her face full of misery. “And I am sorry that I scared you…”
In an instant, Sunrise had grabbed her and was hugging her tightly. “It’s okay,” she said. As Twilight hugged her back, she added, “I just didn’t know you cared that much. It never occurred to me you could. That’s all.”
And then, after a pause, “I love you too.”
Twilight sniffed a little as they continued hugging.
“Also,” Sunrise teased when they parted enough for eye contact, “You can be a seriously scary broad when you put your mind to it.”
That, at least, got a laugh. 
“Just saying,” Sunrise winked, bringing more laughter through Twilight’s tears. Still laughing, they both hugged again.
It took a little while for them both to regain their composure, and longer still before they felt truly ready to return to the party. As they approached the tea room. they could the voices echoing merrily from within. Opening the door, they found Spike asleep in Sunset’s lap while she chatted happily with Cadence, even as human-born Twilight was excitedly discussing astronomy and astrophysics with Luna and Celestia. Looking at them, at that moment, one would never know they had not lived together, grown together for years. Or even all their lives.
Sunrise and Princess Twilight exchanged a smile. The royal family, it seemed, had indeed grown.