//------------------------------// // Estranged // Story: Not-Yet-Princess Twilight Sparkle and the Tale of the Dark Empress of Teatime // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// Just as Sunset Shimmer crested the rise, she got her first glimpse of a flesh-eating willow, as well as the destroyed railroad tracks. The willow was beautiful, in some nightmarish way. Tall, drooping, boughs heavy with a countless number of leaf-mimics. Was it flora? Fauna? Sunset wished that she had paid a bit more attention. Had her teacher mentioned what it was? If Princess Celestia had, Sunset could not remember. The leaves were not leaves at all, but were tiny insect-like creatures, whose wings very much resembled green willow leaves. As for the tree itself, it was some kind of hive structure, a way to distribute nutrients to the whole of the colony no doubt, a specialised organism capable of surviving Equestria’s unique and rather hostile environs. It was a highly evolved beehive, of sorts, only the beehive was a living, monstrous entity that fed upon blood and flesh. Then, as she stood staring, she noticed another, and then another, all tucked way back in the woods, away from the cart path and the tracks. Had they been there this whole time and she had failed to notice? It seems they had, and now, in light of her failure, she felt like berating herself. What if she’d stumbled too close because she wasn’t paying attention? At least the path that ran parallel to the tracks seemed safe, but nothing should ever be taken for granted. As for the tracks themselves, they were torn up in a sure-to-be blind-spot, just where the alpine meadow flattened out a bit above the rise. Somepony had pulled up the spikes and undid the anchoring of the tracks. She wasn’t sure of the terminology involved, as she cared very little for railroads, only that they worked and that the trains ran on time. Some of the many trees had retreated, revealing a broad, grassy meadow strewn with wildflowers. What had cleared the trees away was unknown, Sunset didn’t understand the formation of meadows, and if the truth were told, she didn’t much care. She understood that flat ground was valuable, because flat ground could be built upon. Though, that didn’t explain Canterlot. No sign of a town of any sort, or even a distant train stop. No water tower, no coal bin. Civilisation did not exist here, save for the tracks, but those were torn up. There were no telegraph wires running along the tracks. This place was remote, the end of the line. But as distant as it was, Sunset knew her master had ways and means to know the goings on. She just didn’t know how her master knew. Princess Celestia had a roving eye spell of epic, legendary ability, perhaps. Or some manner of remote viewing spell. Whatever the means, her master kept this knowledge hidden, and Sunset greatly desired this secret method. Knowledge was power… the ability to see far away places, to know the goings on was knowledge and power, all wrapped up in a neat, tidy package. The knowledge of the unsavoury deeds of others could be used against them. As leverage. As a means of coercion. The knowledge of illicit actions could be used like marionette strings, and when tugged in just the right way, could make a puppet dance. Sunset stood, resting, thinking of her master, and admiring the beauty of the flesh-eating willows. If one could learn to control the willows, one would have impressive guards. It couldn’t be the sun, Sunset decided; Celestia had knowledge of where the sun did not shine. “I deserve power,” Sunset spat, her mouth dry and her voice full of gravel. “What do I get instead? This.” With a sweep of her foreleg, she gestured at the mountain meadow ahead of her. “That brown-noser Cadance… she gets power. And Shining Armor. Stupid pink pony. I deserve better. I am owed better. My master keeps knowledge from me. She keeps denying me what is rightfully mine. Why do I put up with it, I wonder?” For a moment, she thought about burning everything around her, just to destroy something beautiful. She had control, mastery over fire, and her power was such that the flames obeyed her every whim, they bowed to her will. Cadance had no such mastery… and yet, Cadance was now a princess. Not that she deserved to be. The pink pain in the plot was an insufferable goody-four-shoes that hung on Princess Celestia’s every word and obeyed every command given. Cadance was an insufferable suckup, a brown noser, and a plot kisser. Sunset hated her almost as much as the uncivilised wilderness. Shining Armor was a prize to be won. He had the right family, wealth, connections, and he would have a brilliant military career. But the pink pony had stolen him away with her feminine wiles and her love-magic. She had captured and claimed Shining Armor, and in doing so, lay claim to the brilliant, desirable, fabulous future that came with him. A future that Sunset Shimmer wanted for herself. With a weary sigh of resignation, Sunset continued her trek to whatever creek she had to be. “Did you talk to Sunny about her feelings?” Twilight asked, and in doing so, caused crumbs to go tumbling down her delicate, fine-featured chin. Celestia, lost in between the past and present, allowed her student’s question to sink in. Before answering, she gave her response some thought, and after a short time spent in careful consideration, she replied, “I tried. On so many occasions, I tried. A conversation takes two ponies, Twilight. I asked Sunny how she was feeling, but she… but she… well, she stopped telling me.” “So you didn’t ask her how she felt before she left?” Twilight—her chubby cheeks rounded from her grin of worshipful adoration—nipped off a bite of her sandwich, which caused a slice of cucumber to slip out from between the bread. The paper-thin, translucent cucumber slice, slathered in butter, vanished with a slurp. Ears sagging, Celestia couldn’t remember. She strained, trying to part the curtains of her mind, hoping for clarity, but there was none to be had. “Actually, Twilight, at that point, I might’ve given up on doing that. Just asking how Sunny was doing typically caused a fight. She always accused me of having ulteriour motives, just for trying to find out how she felt about things. Sunny didn’t want me knowing how she felt, or what she thought, or her opinions… such was the state of our disagreement.” Such a precocious filly. Twilight had abandoned foalhood endeavours and foalish behaviour for scholarly success and academic pursuits. At the moment, she was taking part in an adult conversation—and holding her own quite successfully. Celestia discovered that she had a sort of reverence for Twilight’s extreme precociousness. Though quite young, Twilight knew what she wanted from life, and was prepared to do anything to have it. Her love of magic was extraordinary. It would take a lifetime of dedication and sacrifice to develop to her full potential. “Twilight, are you familiar with the term, ‘estranged’ and do you understand its meaning?” “Does it mean to be weird? My foalsitter is weird. She’s really weird around my brother.” “No, Twilight. Estranged… it means that two ponies, formerly close and affectionate, are no longer close and affectionate. They grow distant. Alienated. Where there had once been a warm friendship, only cold hostility exists. Sunny Sunshine and I, we became estranged, I think. We stopped being friends. It is important for a teacher and their student to be friends. Because we could no longer talk to one another, because we could not be candid, we just… sort of… went through the motions. I told her what to do, and expected her to do it. It was easier than fighting.” Twilight, almost unblinking, her eyes wide and soulful, chewed on her sandwich in silence. Celestia thought of denial. Sometimes, it was better to pretend that a problem didn’t exist. And one did that by withdrawing from the situations and circumstances that manifested evidence of said problems. Leaning over the table, her crown heavy upon her head, her neck aching almost as much as her heart, Celestia looked fondly upon her student, hoping that their friendship would survive Twilight’s tumultuous teenage years. All too often, that was when things went wrong in the worst way. “So you sent Sunny into danger, without talking to her about it?” “Yes, Twilight”—Celestia sighed out the words as a crushing force encircled her heart—“yes, that is exactly what I did. I did not know the danger, for reasons that will soon be made clear. I failed to give Sunny the support she needed just so the peace could be kept between us. I didn’t do a very good job as her teacher, Twilight. I can make mistakes.” “Would you send me into danger?” Twilight asked. “If I did, would you go?” Celestia had trouble with just how easily these words slipped out of her mouth, without thought, without hesitation. “I’d ride Spike into battle.” “Spike is a little small for that.” “He’ll get big. ‘Specially if he keeps eating teacups.” “You would allow Spike to go into danger with you?” Celestia found herself intrigued and she seized upon this revelation. She found herself wondering just how Twilight saw Spike, and what she thought of him. Nothing to panic over, not yet, but an opportunity to teach might have presented itself. “Spike is a dragon.” Twilight raised her right foreleg, as if she was a director cueing up an action sequence. “Spike, roar!” “Grawr?” The roar, such as it was, was the most polite, most indoor-voice roar that Celestia had ever heard from a dragon. It was the roar of a dragon raised by the Canterlot well-to-do, cultured, refined, socially-acceptable roar, the sort of roar that wouldn’t annoy the neighbors too much or cause a disturbance. If done around other dragons, Spike would become a laughingstock, and Celestia knew this from experience. She sighed. “Spike is ferocious,” Twilight said, matter-of-factly. “Once, he caused the maid to drop her duster.” “Grawr,” Spike grawred again, grawring grawringly for the sake of going grawr. Not one thing on the table trembled, nothing quivered, and the tea in the teacups didn’t even ripple alarmingly. Twilight’s head was bobbing up and down; she was no doubt enthused by her dragon’s performance. A faint plume of smoke curled up from the corner of Spike’s mouth and Celestia decided right then and there that she would have to become Spike’s tutor, lest he embarrass himself amongst his own kind, which seemed the likely outcome. Celestia waved her hoof to get Spike’s attention and said, “Enunciation, Spike. Grrr-RAWR. It’s all in the epiglottis. Rrr.” Somewhat timidly, Spike blinked, and then just sat there, looking up in awe. “Twilight,” Celestia asked suddenly, “how do you treat your maid?” “Uh…” Put on the spot, little Twilight squirmed in her seat. “She’s old, our maid… and she needed a place to live. None of us are ever home. Mom’s always busy, Dad works, I have school, and so does my brother. Somepony needs to live in our house, so its not empty.” “Yes, Twilight. But how do you treat your maid?” “Nice.” The filly squirmed a bit and her eyes darted from side to side. “I try to clean up my own messes and make my own bed. Sometimes, I leave books out. Miss Lane startles easy, so I try to keep quiet. When Miss Lane is startled, it hurts her inside her ribs.” Eyebrow raised, Celestia felt a bit of much-welcomed relief. Twilight was kind to the help. That, at least, was a promising sign. She poured herself more tea, added nothing, and then sat, watching, waiting, as her beloved student swallowed the last bite of her sandwich. “All of our household staff are kinda old, now that I think about it. Really old. Almost too old to work. Father hired them all because nopony else would.” Twilight lifted up another sandwich from her plate, and examined it with a critical eye. Night Light’s Home For Old, Unwanted Help, Celestia thought to herself. “So, did Sunny get gobbled up in the wilderness?” With a tilt of her head, Celestia looked down at the filly looking up at her, and thought about her reply. Twilight seemed eager to hear more of the story, and while that was good, Celestia was hesitant to keep going. Doing so meant facing up to the mistakes of the past, hearing the haunting moans of old ghosts not yet laid to rest. “Sunny spent two days and one night in the wilderness, before she reached Sleepy Creek, surviving solely by her wits. She was careful, she avoided the willows, and she was smart enough to stay on the path, which was mostly safe. Sunny had never really spent the night in the wilderness before, so this was a new and novel experience for her. She got to experience the joys of camping, a rewarding and enriching life experience.” “I like to camp in the parlour,” Twilight said amicably. “On the second day, after spending a night in the wilds, Sunny Sunshine reached Sleepy Creek…”