//------------------------------// // Interlude 2 // Story: The Witch of Canterlot // by MagnetBolt //------------------------------// My name is Celestia. Despite what certain ponies seem to think, Princess is not part of my name, and there are times it grates on my ears to hear it. The title comes between me and the ponies I rule, and the distance can be unpleasantly lonely. Until very recently, I was the sole ruler of Equestria. I have tried to keep ponies safe, but making connections to them has been difficult, even impossible. I've had friends, promising students, even a few ponies who I loved dearly, but they were the exception rather than the rule. I have gone entire lifetimes without knowing a pony well enough for them to speak to me without using my title. I hope more than anything else that I won't suffer that again. Thanks to luck, Harmony, and brave ponies, I finally have a surplus of what I lacked for ten centuries. My sister has returned and we are working to reconcile our differences. My most faithful student, Twilight Sparkle, is the one who redeemed her, and I can never pay her back enough for what she has done. I suspect she may someday eclipse me in magical power, depending on which prophesies she actually ends up fulfilling. Princess Cadance is something like a daughter to me. Legally, she's exactly that. Adopting her into the royal family kept the nobility from fighting over her or questioning her right to rule. It will take time for her to grow into her own, but she spends much of her time away from Canterlot and avoiding the games of politics and betrayal. If nothing else, the diplomatic corps is happy to have an alicorn as an official Equestrian Envoy. Finally, there is Sunset Shimmer. I am not sure what to make of her potential. Twilight Sparkle fulfilled the prophesies that I had thought Sunset would, but even so, I have questions with no answers. She knew all of the Elements, and befriended them before Twilight did. She has survived several events that should have killed her. I have never believed in coincidence. Fate is playing some game with her, and she has been one of its favorite pieces since the time we first met. I had been enjoying tea when I felt it. Magic has always had a certain flow to it, like the weather. Just as a pegasus could feel when rain or thunder was on the way, a unicorn could feel when powerful magic was being worked. It came as pressure against my horn, a feeling in the pit of my stomach. What I felt wasn't the gentle breeze of spellwork from a skilled mage. It was more like a tide rolling across Canterlot, drowning the distant sensations of my school, giving me the same feeling I got looking over the edge of a cliff. Even one of the maids felt it, turning to look to the west. A pillar of flame reached for the sky with volcanic force. The windows rattled in their frames. “Cancel my appointments,” I said, trying to remain calm. I had a lot of practice. Was it another assassination attempt gone awry? An attack by some invading army that even my own specialists hadn’t seen coming? I decided to take a look for myself. If it was anything truly dangerous, I would rather have my hoof in it now when I could do the most good. I teleported high above the city to try to find the source of the magic. I was somewhat shocked to find that it was coming from an orphanage. Orphanages were a sad necessity. While there were very few foals who were abandoned, there were always those who lost their parents or who otherwise ended up without a home through no fault of their own. It was also the last place I would expect even our worst foes to attack. That meant an accident of some kind, and with foals involved, I couldn’t wait for the Guard to respond. I admit it -- it wasn’t merely the fact that lives were on the line that motivated me. I didn’t often get to take care of problems myself. Too many things relied on my being in Canterlot, adhering to a tight schedule. I would do anything to keep my little ponies safe, but sometimes I felt as though I’d constructed a gilded cage for myself. This was a rare opportunity to fly. An extinguishing spell subdued the flames and I surveyed the damage as I circled down. The roof was gone, inner walls were scorched to charcoal, and I could smell burning hair and worse even at this distance. I landed in the ashes, alone. A quick spell told me that the three still forms along one wall were already beyond saving, and the rest of the foals and caretakers had fled the flames. No matter how many years I’ve existed, I have never been able to become numb to the death of ponies. I hope I never do. I shook my head and turned to leave when I heard a cough at my hooves. I looked down with shock as embers stirred and a filly slowly got to her hooves, shaking and exhausted. She was at the epicenter of the destruction. She should have been dead. Instead, she seemed exhausted but unhurt and tilted her head to look up at me with teal eyes almost hidden behind hair the color of dancing flames. I blinked down at her. Before I could say anything, the foal started crying. Between sobs I could just barely understand that she was begging for forgiveness. “I-it’s all my fault…” Canterlot General Hospital is perhaps the most advanced medical facility in the world. The griffons may have advances in the art of war that we lack, and zebras might have alchemical secrets they have never shared, every nation in the world knew that Equestrian medicine was simply the best. Sunset Shimmer was lying in bed, surrounded by machines that went beep, tweedle-dee, and every other medically-advanced sound that doctors were fond of. They were doubtless brand new and extremely expensive, with readouts that only a true expert could hope to understand. I admit that I have not quite kept up with medical advances in the last century or two. “Am I going to go to the dungeon?” Sunset whispered, looking up at me in fear. I had elected to stay with her, for now. There were very few ponies who would be able to stop another disaster from spreading if she lost control of her magic again, and, well, if I went back to the castle I would be too distracted by worrying about the filly to fill out any of the hundreds and hundreds of forms that had piled up on my desk. Sadly, I was going to have to delegate that task to others. “You aren’t going to go to the dungeon,” I said. “I promise.” “I didn’t mean to do it,” Sunset said, pulling the covers up higher and trying to cover her face. “D-did a lot of ponies get hurt?” Three foals were dead. A dozen were injured, some severely. One was in surgery now, and would likely never recover. “Yes,” I said, leaving it at that. I wasn’t prepared to tell a filly she had accidentally killed another, but I wasn’t going to lie to her either. I just had to hope she didn’t ask questions until she was prepared for the answers. “It wasn’t supposed to happen,” she whispered, tearing up again. “What was supposed to happen?” I asked. I had to try to keep her focused and get her side of the story. Some ponies had already petitioned for her to be, if not thrown in a dungeon, exiled somewhere she could do no harm. “I was trying to cast a light spell. Every time I try to use my magic it blows up in my face, but I read that a light spell is really easy, so even I should have been able to get it right. The other foals were making fun of me, so I just… I tried casting it as hard as I could.” She looked up at me. “I guess I messed that up, too.” “Mistakes are the most important part of learning,” I said. “If you never made mistakes, you’d never be challenging yourself.” “Most ponies don’t make mistakes like this,” Sunset muttered, turning away from me. “That means you have to learn a big lesson from it,” I said. “Yeah, I learned that I shouldn’t use my magic, because ponies just get hurt.” I shook my head, though I knew she couldn’t see it. “That’s one lesson you could take from this, though it would be wrong.” “Then what am I supposed to learn?” Sunset asked, her voice breaking. “That I’m just a walking disaster? I saw when the spell I tried to cast exploded in my face, and I’m going to have to remember it every time I look at my stupid flank!” She kicked the blanket away, revealing her new cutie mark, a blazing ball of fire. “It looks just like it,” she muttered. “It looks like a sun to me, though I suppose I’m not impartial.” I smiled. “A cutie mark of a sun usually represents great magical power.” “Great. So when my spells blow up instead of doing what I want, they’ll be really dangerous.” At least sarcasm was a little better than whimpering. I was used to dealing with sarcasm from the nobility. “It means you need a teacher who can help you learn to keep your spells from failing quite so explosively. Spells are fragile little things. A little too much power put into them, and instead of fixing a cracked teacup, you end up shattering it.” “Spells are… fragile?” Sunset frowned, turning to face me again. “As delicate as an eggshell,” I confirmed. “When you attempted to form that light spell, it was like trying to crack an egg with a sledgehammer. Then, with the spell shattered, the mana you put into it had nothing to guide it. It turned into heat and force, the two most basic types of energy, and… you saw the result.” “I don’t think the orphanage is going to hire a tutor just for me,” Sunset pointed out. “If they even let me back in.” “You don’t have to worry about that. How would you like to come back to the castle with me? I happen to have a few strings to pull at the School for Gifted Unicorns, and I’ve been looking for a filly who had enough potential to be my personal student.” More importantly, it would put her somewhere she could be monitored at all times to prevent a repeat accident. “You mean...” Sunset blinked, unsure how to react. “You want me to--?” “You don’t have to accept. It’s a big decision to make, and I can give you time to think-” “But I messed everything up!” Sunset protested. “I shouldn’t get a reward!” “It’s a responsibility,” I said. “Not a reward. You will have to meet very high expectations, and your other teachers are going to be told to push you harder than any of their other pupils.” “And it’s the best way to learn how to keep from hurting anypony again?” Sunset asked. I nodded. She took a deep breath. “Then I’ll do it. I just… I don’t want this to ever happen again.” Years had passed, and Sunset Shimmer changed, not necessarily for the better. She had risen to meet every challenge I’d thrown at her, and while there were times that I loved her like a daughter, sometimes she made me want to tear out my mane. Today was one of those days. “You can’t solve all of your problems with explosions,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. A thousand years of ruling alone had not prepared me for a student who attempted to solve every problem with the application of force. I felt like the next thing to explode would be my head. “You wanted me to get the chest open,” Sunset countered. “I got the chest open!” She gestured to the chest. What was left of the chest. It was shattered and spread almost evenly across the entire floor of the testing chamber. “The purpose of the test was for you to demonstrate finesse,” I said. “You were supposed to pick the lock, use opening spells, turn the lock incorporeal, any one of a number of non-violent solutions.” “The chest is open,” Sunset huffed, folding her hooves. “The chest is gone,” I corrected. “And what was inside is destroyed. What are you going to do if you lock yourself out of your room, blow the door down?” She looked nervous. I frowned. “You’ve done exactly that, haven’t you?” “I’m surprised you never noticed,” Sunset admitted. I groaned and rubbed my temples, getting frustrated. “Look, the chest is open, and I can easily get to the contents,” Sunset said, trotting over to the shattered glass and wood that had been inside. “One quick repair spell…” She picked up the pieces and her magical aura started shining brightly as they flew back together, mending themselves and revealing what had been inside the chest all along - a framed photo of the two of us. She put it down and glanced at the chest, giving it the same treatment. “See? Finesse.” She smirked. “Not everything is as easy to fix as wood and glass,” I said. “You could easily hurt another pony by being so reckless. What if I’d gotten you a pet and put it in that chest?” “Well, I…” She frowned, turning the thought over in her head. She turned a little green. “Please promise me you’ll start taking these tests more seriously. It’s not about showing off how much power you have -- we all know you have more than enough.” I smiled. “What I want to see is how much you’ve learned, and your ability to come up with novel solutions. I will be the first to agree that brute force and violence can solve any problem, but the consequences that result - and the amount of violence needed - often make the result a pyrrhic victory at best.” “I… okay, Celestia,” Sunset said, looking down at her hooves. “You’re a very bright pony,” I said. “And I have to admit, that was a flawless repair spell. Where did you learn that?” Sunset looked up and smiled. “I found a few spells in one of the young mare’s adventure books that I borrowed from the library. Apparently this was the one that the thief in Prancy Dewdrop and the Mystery of the Locked Door used to cover up his crimes…” The more things change, the more they stay the same. Or at least, that’s the saying. Having watched Equestria since before its founding, I can say that I certainly see how the expression came about. Ponies were creatures of habit, and even when their situation changed, they hung onto the things that were familiar. Sunset Shimmer had left on bad terms because of a misunderstanding between us. No, that’s not quite accurate. She left on bad terms because she wanted something that I had not been prepared to give her. She wanted me to adopt her, make her part of the royal family, and I had never taken the time to explain why I hadn’t. When she had returned, I had, perhaps hastily, decided to adopt her. I thought that it would mend things between us. But Sunset had become a different mare than when she left, and saw me with respect born of fear and paranoia instead of love. She’d agreed to come back with me, but I could feel that familiar wedge of distance and silence sliding between us again, even if it was from a different cause. And today, I was determined to make a start at healing the rift that had developed between us. “Do you think this disguise makes my flank look fat?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. I turned away from Sunset and looked back to her. We were outside of one of the finest zoos in Equestria, the Royal Nature Preserve. I’d never been to the Royal Nature Preserve myself. Well, perhaps that’s inaccurate. I’d been there the day it opened, and dedicated it to the preservation of endangered species and building understanding and wonder at the variety of animals across Equestria and beyond. That, however, had been a century ago, and the zoo had entirely closed and reopened twice since then, once because the funding had run out, and once because the administration wasn’t taking proper care of the animals. The second event had led to some of the less dangerous of the zoo animals being moved to the Castle gardens, where their descendants still remained. She rolled her eyes. “No, three slices of cake with breakfast does that, ‘Sunny.’” One of the few problems with being the absolute ruler of a nation was that you could rarely get time to yourself for family matters and having a little fun, at least without ruining some major gala event. Of course, I would never do that, so I had to find other ways to carve out time for myself. For example, letting Luna take control of the Solar Court for a day while I spent the time with Sunset. I was fairly sure she wouldn’t try to take over the country (and if she did, she'd have to do all the paperwork so the joke would really be on her). Besides, she couldn’t do worse than the simulacrums that I’d used in the past. One had dissolved back into mist in the middle of court and nearly caused an international crisis. In my defense, I had to choose between a formal diplomatic meeting and the opening of Equestria's largest waterslide. “I’m serious,” I pouted. “I haven’t had to use transformation magic on myself in a very long time. This looks normal, right?” Sunset sighed, looking at me. I had disguised myself as a pink unicorn with red and yellow hair, a compromise between Cadance and Sunset’s appearances. Normally I would have used a pegasus disguise, but I thought losing the wings might make Sunset somewhat more at ease. “It’s fine,” she said, eventually. “I hope so. I want everypony else at the zoo looking at the beasts, not at my cutie mark.” I adjusted my dress. It was enchanted to help keep my disguise intact. A simple illusion spell had been good enough in my youth. Now I had to use transformation magic just to avoid being twice as large as the ponies around me. “I don’t even know why we’re going to the zoo. I saw plenty of wild animals in the Everfree.” “Because I want to spend time with you,” I replied. “Somewhere away from all the politics and history.” And though I didn’t say it, I was also somewhat motivated by a brochure somepony had left with my mail that had mentioned the preserve as a good place to help bond with your foal. “If you don’t want to go, we can find something else to do,” I suggested. “A concert, or a museum…” “I’ve been living in a museum for years now,” Sunset joked. “And we couldn’t talk at a concert. The zoo is fine. It’s just… sudden. Like all of this.” “It took a little work to make sure I had the time, and I didn’t want to promise anything that I couldn’t deliver,” I said. Sunset smiled, more honestly than before. “You don’t need to do that. I know how busy you are.” “You should consider a disguise yourself,” I said, changing the subject. She was a fairly distinctive pony, after all. At least she hadn’t insisted on wearing a black cloak or leather jacket today. “Why?” She raised an eyebrow. “It’s not like ponies know me. I was practically a recluse back in school, and I haven’t exactly been a high-profile pony since then.” “You might be surprised,” I said. “You’ve been in the papers more often than not since you returned to Canterlot. The press seems to love you and Luna.” “I’m not sure if that’s good or bad,” Sunset muttered. “Cadance can give you some tips on managing the paparazzi,” I suggested. “Just try not to set any of them on fire." “Don’t tempt me,” Sunset said. “I happen to like setting things on fire.” “Just none of the exhibits,” I joked, as we got in line to enter the zoo, quieting until we could get away from the crowds again. Sunset looked nervous around so many other ponies, and it made me wish I could wrap a wing around her, though I was sure she’d have pushed me away and told me she was fine, despite all evidence to the contrary. "Do you remember when you set part of the garden on fire trying to make a spell that would get rid of mosquitos?" "H-how was I supposed to know it would trigger on all the ants and earthworms? And why didn't anypony tell me there were that many bugs in the garden?" Sunset demanded, her cheeks red. She saw my expression and her glare softened. “I guess it was a little funny in hindsight,” she admitted. “Twilight caused quite a bit of trouble as well,” I said. “I’ve never seen quite as much chaos as when she accidentally cast a Want-It-Need-It spell on Spike. Of course, she had been intending to use it on herself. Apparently one of her classmates had mocked her for not having a date to the school semi-formal.” “That’s… pretty dangerously close to dark magic,” Sunset said. “Why would you teach her a spell like that?” “I didn’t,” I sighed. “Apparently, she learned it on her own from a certain book I know hasn’t been in print for about a thousand years…” I raised an eyebrow and looked at Sunset. Sunset had a sudden coughing fit. “I didn’t exactly keep track of what she borrowed! It was… a lot. She’s kind of an avid reader, you know!” She relaxed as we got inside and away from the press of the herd. The zoo was busy today, full of smiling ponies. My steps slowed as I watched a young mother carrying an excited foal on her back. I was jealous of them. Ponies didn’t often appreciate their lives, how much you began to miss simple happiness and family when you weren’t able to have it. “Claustrophobic?” I asked. “You know I’ve never liked other ponies.” Sunset shrugged. “You get along with your friends.” “That’s different, and I still didn’t like going into town,” Sunset countered. “Like... It took me a long time to get used to Pinkie. She kept acting like she was afraid of me, and it… made me feel in control.” She smiled fondly. “By the time I figured out she wasn’t really scared, I didn’t want ponies to be afraid of me anyway, and I ended up letting her throw me a party where we got to know each other a little better.” “She does know how to get ponies talking,” I agreed, as we walked over a wooden bridge. Below us, lions lazed in the sunlight. I envied them. I never had time to just relax anymore. There was always one crisis after another, to the point that I was having to let others take care of some of them for me. "You know Pinkie Pie?" Sunset asked. "I've placed orders from Ponyville before, for... various reasons." Mostly wanting to avoid the palace accountants knowing exactly where some of the national budget was going, but also because Sugarcube Corner was simply amazing. Also, perhaps, because I'd wanted to check on a few nearby things over the years. “So,” Sunset said, clearing her throat. “Since both of us are experts on magical beasts, who wants to be the tour guide?” “Please, you have more recent experience,” I said. “Especially in the wild. I’d like to hear how many of these creatures you’ve met in the past.” “Too many,” Sunset snorted. “Come on. The manticore’s right over there.” She pointed to a cage. “I know something most ponies don’t about them.” “Oh?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as we stepped over to the enclosure. The zoo’s manticore was somewhat elderly, but still wild. The cage around it kept it well away from the ponies who had come to see it, while still giving it a large, fairly natural habitat where it was well-fed and cared for. “They taste awful,” Sunset specified, leering down at the manticore in the cage. It had been prowling, ignoring the ponies whispering and pointing at it. I saw it look up at her and visibly pale. “And why, exactly, do you know how they taste?” I asked, asking the obvious question she’d left open for me. “Two reasons,” Sunset said. “First, it’s part of a Zebrican antivenin treatment. Not one they use often, but that time there were already plenty of manticore bits around and it was too time-sensitive to gather the other viable components that could replace it.” I glanced at her back leg, where the old scar from a manticore sting was still visible just above her knee, a bare patch of skin like an arrow wound. “Second,” she continued. “I was stubborn and stupid and told Zecora that her potion only tasted awful because she couldn’t cook. I was, um. I was wrong about that. Manticore tastes awful no matter what you do.” “I'll keep that in mind in case I find myself stranded and start thinking about trying a steak," I giggled. "I thought the ones here at the zoo would be more impressive,” Sunset said. She kept eye contact with the manticore, and the beast circled, watching her warily. "Maybe it's out of shape after living in a cage for so long." “Shall we move onto the exhibit of magical pests?” I nodded towards the building. Sunset grunted and kept her eyes on the manticore, rubbing her leg with absent-minded distraction. "This manticore isn’t as big as the ones in the Everfree..." I think I surprised her when I hugged her. She stiffened, and I could feel the magic surge from her horn for a moment, though she brought it under control before anything exploded. "What are you doing?" she asked, surprised. "You looked like you needed a hug," I said. "I'm fine," she insisted, trying to push away from me. I let her go. “Maybe,” I said. “But I’m not fine. I don’t like seeing you in pain.” “Let’s just… go look at the parasprites,” Sunset said, turning away. The manticore took the opportunity to flee back into the darker parts of its enclosure. I put a hoof on her shoulder and led her away from the enclosure. “Do you want to go sit down?” I asked, worried. “I’m fine, Prin-” she looked at me, and saw something in my expression. “Mom. I’m fine.” At least she’d called me Mom. I’d take whatever progress I could get in trying to peel her out of the shell she’d built around herself. As we walked into the House of Magical Pests, I felt a crawling sensation along my spine and forced myself not to look behind us. For some reason I felt like I was forgetting something important, but for the life of me I couldn't imagine what. I carried two bowls of ice cream back to the secluded table Sunset had saved for us, pointedly as far from the other tourists as possible. I saw her usually sour expression brighten at the sight of it. “If I remember correctly, you were always fond of rainbow sherbet.” I put the paper bowl in front of her. “And you’re still eating plain vanilla,” Sunset noted. “Sometimes the simple things are best,” I said. “I have to sit and eat all kinds of elaborate desserts and sundaes, but none of them are as good as this.” I held up the paper bowl. “Plain vanilla, eaten on a day off with a pony that means so much to me.” “When did I start mattering that much?” Sunset asked, after a few bites of sherbet to steel herself. “You always did,” I said. “I’ve just never been good at showing it.” “Then why didn’t you ever want to…” she trailed off, staring at her ice cream. It looked like this discussion wasn’t something that her favorite dessert could fix. “That’s not an easy question to answer,” I said. “But you deserve more than just…” I trailed off as my eyes caught movement in the shadows. “Tartarus.” “I hope I don’t deserve Tartarus for asking a simple question." “No, I mean, I forgot something on my schedule.” No time to drop the disguise. “Really? You have a meeting important enough that you’re going to suddenly take off, just when I ask you a difficult question?” Sunset stood up. “That’s such horseapples! I just want a straight answer--” I pushed Sunset down and raised a magical barrier just in time to stop the crossbow bolt. “Did somepony just try to kill me?” Sunset asked, blinking. “What I forgot was that today was when the Intelligence Branch determined the assassins would make an attempt.” I paused. “That does explain why I had so little on my schedule, and why the guards were so difficult to slip this time. I really do need to write these things down somewhere…” That was the problem with secret documents. You never had a copy on hoof when you needed it. “You forgot that somepony was going to murder you?!” Sunset yelled. The other park patrons were looking at us now and backing away rather quickly. Most of them, anyway. A few pulled out knives and other rather dangerous looking weapons and started advancing towards us. “I had bigger concerns!” I protested, firing a bolt of force at one of the hired killers, launching him all the way into the manticore enclosure. I was going to have to remember to save him, if he was still alive when I was done with his friends. “What’s a bigger concern than this?!” Sunset yelled. I could feel the temperature of the air rising around her. I don’t even think she was aware she was doing it. “You are,” I said, giving her a smile. “Spending time with you, trying to reconnect… that’s much more important to me than just another threat to my life.” “You actually mean that, don’t you?” Sunset muttered, the air starting to cool. “Sunset, you’ve been my daughter in all but name since you were a filly.” I fired another blast, tossing a pony into a fountain. It was hard to avoid seriously injuring them. “Then everything fell apart and I missed so much of your life, because I couldn’t be the parent you needed. Just like I couldn’t be the sister Luna needed, a thousand years ago.” Sunset rubbed at her eyes. “This really isn’t the right time for drama.” “I think the middle of an assassination attempt is a wonderful time for it,” I said, trying to smile. “Nah,” Sunset shook her head. “Hey, remember what you told me once? That you can’t solve all of your problems with explosions? Pretty sure I can solve this one easily enough.” “Show me,” I said. Sunset smirked and sniffled before closing her eyes, her horn lighting up with a hard cyan and white light. Magical auras flickered around the ponies around us for a moment, the assassins in red and the rest in blue. Then Sunset reared up, firing bolts of energy straight up into the air, where they banked at hard angles, slamming down on the assassins and erupting into balls of flame. “There,” she said. “One simple divination spell to determine who was who, tied into a seeking variation of the standard fireball spell. And they’re all alive, in case you’re worried.” I looked at the nearest assassin. He was barely moving, covered in burns. I looked at Sunset and raised an eyebrow. “He’ll be fine,” she assured me. I looked back to him. He was very badly burned. “I’m sure that’ll just… heal right up.” She gave me a weak smile. “Definitely fine.” “Nopony move!” Both of our attentions turned to the new voice. The last assassin, only moderately burned, was holding onto a mare, a crossbow affixed to his hoof and pointed at her neck. “A hostage?” Sunset asked. “That’s… pretty lame for an assassin. You know Celestia would have just let you walk out of here if you were quiet about it, right?” “Shut up! You know nothing!” The assassin backed up a step. “You can’t possibly understand what she did to us!” “I’m sorry, and you are…?” I asked, clearing my throat. “As if you don’t know!” He sneered. I waited. He frowned. “You… really don’t know?” I shook my head. “The treaty you made! To give the Eventide Islands back to the griffons!” He growled. “Oh, yes,” I said. “The peace treaty.” I glanced to Sunset. “A few years ago I returned some old griffon territory to the Empire, in exchange for a similar exchange of some of the northern islands. They were rather important trading posts a bit over a thousand years ago, and I felt it would be a good investment for the future.” “You gave up our homes!” The pony pressed the tip of the loaded crossbow into his hostage’s throat. “You were offered resettlement help, and fair compensation for any property lost,” I countered. “You were warned if you remained that it would be under griffon rule. The treaty terms ensured that you would be well-treated.” “Well-treated?!” The stallion yelled. “They take all of our crops and barely leave enough for us to survive on! They treat us like slaves!” “You could leave,” I reminded him. “We can’t just abandon our homes! Our blood, sweat, and tears went into making those islands a home and you just threw them away for some harmony-forsaken frozen rocks in the north--” “Can we please just get back to trying to kill each other?” Sunset hissed. “I hate politics.” “You used to love listening to me talk about politics and treaties,” I sighed. “That was before you started sending me away so you could coach Cadance on it,” Sunset retorted. I winced at that. “E-excuse me?” The hostage said. “C-can somepony please rescue me?” She made a scared squeaking sound as the assassin pushed the tip of his weapon harder against her throat, nearly drawing blood. “Or you could keep talking about politics and try to resolve this peacefully! That’s fine too! Please don’t hurt me!” Sunset slowly started stepping off to the side. The assassin kept his eyes on her until I cleared my throat, getting his attention. “Now, I understand you have reasonable grievances, but this is something that should have been addressed in the court.” I tried to look natural as I slowly walked away from Sunset, further drawing his attention away from her. “I have never subscribed to the theory that power flows from the point of a sword. If you want to discuss getting help in leaving the Eventide islands, I am more than willing to offer the same aid I did last time.” “And give up our homes and lives?” The assassin scoffed. A little more, and Sunset would be out of his field of vision. “It’s the best thing for your family,” I said. “The Eventide islands have been Equestrian territory for centuries, and you gave it up for nothing,” he growled. “Ponies here don’t even remember us, because you buried the terms of the treaty and let them forget that you abandoned us when we needed you. After this, though, they’ll remember us again, and you’ll have to answer to the public about why you let us rot under griffon rule!” There was a flash of cyan light, and the assassin turned to look at where Sunset was. Had been. The hostage was standing there now, looking confused. He looked down at the mare he was holding, who was considerably less scared and more dangerous than the one he had been threatening before. “Transposition Trick,” Sunset said, just before the crossbow pressing against her neck burst into flames. “Well I guess that was a mess,” Sunset groaned, as we walked through the silent park. The Guard had arrived shortly after we had finished rounding up the would-be assassins. Even the one who had been thrown into the manicore cage had survived, thankfully. “It was my fault for not paying closer attention to my schedule,” I sighed. I’d dropped the disguise after the Guard had arrived. The park patrons had already been evacuated, and the two of us were alone, for better or worse. “Still, those guys were pretty stupid,” Sunset smirked. “I mean, going after an alicorn with crossbows and knives? That wouldn’t have even been enough to handle me, and I’m not immortal like you are.” “I don’t think they ever intended to succeed,” I said. “They wanted to make a spectacle. A grand gesture. Something to bring their plight into the public eye.” “Are you going to let it happen?” Sunset asked. “I can hardly stop them.” “You could just order the press to avoid mentioning the political agenda, or bury the story entirely. If you let their message get to the papers, it’s like letting them win!” Sunset gave me a sour expression. “There aren’t any winners here,” I said. “What they did was motivated by desperation. They felt abandoned and lost, and this was the only way they could get my attention. Maybe they weren’t entirely wrong about that.” “And if they get their way, it’s just going to encourage more ponies to try the same thing,” Sunset pointed out. “You can’t negotiate with them, or it makes what they’re doing a legitimate tactic.” “If ponies are really suffering, I need to do something about it,” I said. “Maybe they didn’t do the right thing, but they did it with their whole heart. They’re asking for help, and they were willing to put their lives on the line for it. Most likely, they’ll end up dying for it.” “I didn’t think I hurt them that badly…” “You didn’t,” I said. “But they’re all technically citizens of the Empire, not of Equestria. Once they’ve recovered, they’ll have to be deported back to the Empire to be tried for their crimes. It’s part of the same treaty that gave the islands to the griffons in the first place. They’ll likely be executed.” “Well maybe they deserve it,” Sunset muttered, just barely loud enough to hear. “I thought you’d be more sympathetic,” I said. “You felt abandoned, too, and you were willing to do almost anything to get my attention again.” “Yeah well… I was being stupid,” Sunset whispered. “Ah, here we go…” I stopped at the table we had been sitting at before the whole mess had begun. Sunset’s sherbet had spilled to the ground, but my ice cream had survived, my discrete cooling charm still keeping it from melting even hours later. “We came all the way back here for the ice cream?” Sunset snorted, smiling. “That’s so like you.” “That’s not the only reason,” I admitted. “I think better on my hooves, and I needed to get you a real answer to the question you asked me.” “About why you never adopted me?” Sunset’s smile faded. I nodded. “The reasons… changed, over time. That’s one reason it’s just so difficult to put things into words.” I led her to the shade under a tree and sat down on the grass, Sunset sitting next to me. I resisted the urge to pull her into a hug. "I wanted to spend today thinking about all the good times." "There were a lot of bad times," Sunset said, her voice wavering. "Most of them were my fault." "I think we just remember the bad times more because they leave scars. Not all of them are visible." Sunset wiped her eyes. "Sorry." I pulled her into a hug. “It hurt because it mattered more than I wanted to admit. When I first took you on as a student, I didn’t intend to adopt you,” I said. “It just wasn’t something I considered. It was foolish of me. I was spending time with you, teaching you, watching you grow, doing all the things a mother should do. It was when you passed your third-year exams at the school that I realized how proud I was of you, and I started seriously considering the option.” “That was right around the time that Cadance…” Sunset trailed off. “Cadance was an orphan, like you. Her ascension caught me completely by surprise, and I reacted quickly and… did things incorrectly,” I sighed. “She was an orphan, but there were ponies who cared about her, and I swooped in and took her away from everything she knew in the name of political expediency.” “She always seemed happy enough,” Sunset said. I shook my head. “She was good at putting on a happy face, but what I did almost broke her. I was thinking of what Equestria needed, and that was a stable leadership. As an alicorn, Cadance needed to become part of the royal family just to keep her from accidentally causing a schism, or being used by some noble house as a figurehead to gather support.” “And she got a real family out of it,” Sunset pointed out. “Not to mention rich, famous, beloved by all who gaze upon her, et cetera.” “She lost her real family when I took her to Canterlot,” I corrected. “And she never had a chance to lead a real life. I’ve tried to keep her out of the public eye to give her at least some amount of privacy, but she had to learn how to use a horn she wasn’t born with and to conduct herself politically.” “I was so jealous,” Sunset said. “She had everything I ever wanted.” “She didn’t want any of it,” I said. “She told me later she cried herself to sleep almost every night. It took her years to come to terms with what happened to her, and in that time it was like being in prison. No going out in public without an escort. Constant lessons. If not for her personal guard, she would have had a breakdown.” “Shining Armor?” Sunset guessed. I nodded, and she snorted. “I guess that’s one kind of comfort. I sure wasn’t helping.” “I never blamed you for not getting along with her,” I said. “I understood why. I had hoped you would be able to become friends despite your differences.” “We did, eventually,” Sunset said. I smiled. “You don’t know how much that meant to her. Cadance has very few friends. It’s difficult to make close connections when ponies are all either bowing or trying to get favors out of you. I didn’t want that to happen to you. I thought if I didn’t adopt you, you’d have a chance at a normal life.” “I’ve never had a chance at that,” Sunset snorted. “I mean just look at me. I ended up living in a haunted castle and studying dark magic and alchemy.” “I never said it worked out,” I said, smiling. “I just wanted you to be happy, and I made the mistake of thinking that I knew how to make you happy better than you did. Instead I ended up making you think I didn’t care about you.” “And you’re adopting me now to… what, make up for things?” “Sunset, you’ve always been my daughter. The only two things that disagreed were a piece of paper that said you were a ward of the state and a stubborn old princess.” I shook my head. “I’m just sorry it took this long to start making it right. After all those years, I don’t have any right to be your mother. I know you promised Twilight you’d come home with me, but now I’m keeping you from your friends, just like I did with Cadance.” I prodded my bowl of ice cream with the little plastic spoon that had come with it. “If you want to go back to Ponyville, I can help you get a house closer to town, or even do some repairs to the old castle if you’d prefer it. I know you aren’t comfortable here.” “You’re such an idiot sometimes,” Sunset huffed. She shifted, leaning against my side. “You forget about an assassination attempt, you thought not adopting me would make me happier, and now you’re trying to get rid of me.” “I’m not trying to get rid of you.” “And worst of all,” Sunset said, taking the ice cream from my grip and bringing the spoon up to her mouth to taste it. “The only ice cream left is plain vanilla.” She huffed and took another bite. “Sorry.” “I guess it’s not too bad,” She admitted. “At least since I’m eating it with you.” I put a wing around her, not letting her see the tears in my eyes. “We’ll get your favorite flavor next time.” “Thanks, Mom.”