“She did think it mattered, her party, and it made her feel quite sick to know that it was all going wrong, all falling flat.”
“So,” said Soarin’, “How’s the Palace holding up these days?”
For a half-second, I thought he was talking to me—but, before I could answer, Shiny spoke up instead.
“Pretty well, considering,” he said. “We’ve been doing double-shifts since the Wedding, which kinda sucks…” he chuckled. “But at least the overtime pay is nice.”
I sighed, trying to ignore the little pang of loneliness, then looked around.
The nine of us stood in a loose half-circle at one end of the garden. The sun was beginning to set in a brilliant gold-orange haze. Below us stretched all of Canterlot, with little golden flecks of light beginning to show in some of the windows. Far below lay the Canter Valley, the golden ribbon of the Kelpie River winding its way through the emerald patchwork of farms.
As I gazed out over the view, I sighed again. Sunset was my favorite time of day. Part of it was the fact that I was coming “off shift,” as it were—with the sun going down, I didn’t need to be around to make sure everything was going alright. But more than that, it had to do with how everyone felt about the sunset. Most of the day, people hated the sun. It woke them up in the morning, it made them all hot and sweaty during the day, and shone in their eyes at dinnertime.
But when the sunset came, the sun became a thing of beauty. Sunset was a time to stop and look at the horizon, a time of reflection and contemplation. A time for painters, poets, and lovers. A time when ponies would look at the sun—my sun—and, somehow, feel its light warm their hearts.
Many ponies didn’t seem to realize how little I had to do with the sunset. I only needed to raise the sun in the morning, and the sun’s own momentum did the rest. But still, it felt pretty damn good when ponies came up to me in the morning and thanked me for the sunset of the night before.
“Hey, Sweetie.”
I blinked, then shook my head a little. Now wasn’t the time to get stuck in my own little world. Instead, I looked over at Twilight Velvet, my adoptive aunt, who wore a sleek purple gown. She smiled at me.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, with only a hint of dishonesty.
Aunt Velvet smiled an enigmatic smile.
“Well,” she said, “I know you’ve had a lot on your plate lately… but please try to enjoy the party tonight. After all…” she turned and looked pointedly behind her. “It’s a big night tonight. For all of us.”
I snorted. “That’s putting it mildly,” I said, turning to follow her gaze.
The Canterlot Garden Party was actually one of my least favorite events we held at the Palace. You couldn’t beat the view from the Canterlot gardens, of course, but I was much more comfortable watching the city with a window between myself and any lingering mosquitoes. However, it was still one of the most important social events of the season. This was when the movers and shakers came out to play. More money and power was gathered here, among the hundred or so ponies standing in small knots on the lawn, than any other place in Equestria, including the Palace vaults.
You wouldn’t know it by looking around, of course. This was real wealth—the sort that didn’t need to draw attention to itself. But you could see it if you knew where to look: the sharp tailored suits on the stallions, the sleek form-fitting dresses on the mares, the exotic perfumes and colognes on the air. The only overt signs of wealth were the sparkling diamond tie studs and the strings of flawless pearls adorning the guests. The place stank of money, if you had the nose for it.
Except, of course, for our little knot of family. There were nine of us, all told: Uncle Nightie and Aunt Velvet, doing their best to fit in with their off-the-rack, last-season fashion; Shining Armor, wearing his dress uniform, with his date, a little pink unicorn—”Sunny” something—at his side; Blue and Rares, the latter of whom was staring around in wide-eyed wonder; and lastly, Luna, who had come unaccompanied, and yet was absolutely rocking her Dowager Empress schtick. And then there was me, of course—and my date, Lieutenant Soaring Skies of the Wonderbolts.
As family of the Princesses, everyone in our group had permission to wear more-or-less whatever they wanted, but Soarin’ actually looked like he could have fit in with this crowd. He cut quite a figure in his dress uniform, decorated as he was with bright ribbons and a set of sparkling silver bars. I stood head-and-shoulders taller than him—but then again, that was true for most stallions in Canterlot—and yet, no one batted an eye. He wasn’t as bulky as Shiny, but he had the wiry strength of a true athlete, and not an ounce of fat on his body.
I smiled a little. Yeah, I’d heard it all. The magazines were calling us “Sunny Skies.” They joked I had a thing for short stallions, or that I was dating him because he was a dumb jock. I’m pretty sure that multiple family fortunes were already resting on when, exactly, he’d pop the question—or when I’d pop it for him, at least.
To be fair, it wasn’t all idle speculation. After all, I did have to squeeze out a filly before I kicked the bucket. And even a humpbacked old mule would become one of the biggest and most important celebrities in Equestria overnight if I chose him as Prince Consort. And, yeah, Soarin’ would make a good mate, but there was more to it than that...
Soarin’ really was the complete package, if I was honest. He was handsome, he was famous, and he had an athlete’s body. When we were together--really together--he made me feel alive in ways I didn’t know he could. The exhilaration of our sunset races through the clouds, the schoolfilly joy of him ambushing me with a picnic, the thrill that coursed through me when he ran his hooves over my outstretched wings, making sure I was flying straight… Twelve-year-old me would be having a conniption right now, knowing that I still hadn’t married him. But…
A frown creeped across my face.
But I wasn’t twelve anymore. I didn’t need a mate--I needed a husband. Or at least a half-decent coltfriend. But Soarin’ and I hadn’t been able to take that last step just yet. He tried really hard, sure, but there was something missing. Something we hadn’t been able to figure out. Being Princess was hard work--and I wanted someone who could help me through it, at the end of the day. And Soarin’, in our three years of dating, hadn’t quite figured out how to be there for me, really be there, when I needed him. Here we were, six feet apart, and, for all the attention he was paying me, I might as well have been on the moon…
I shot him another longing glance, and saw that he was still deep in conversation with Shiny. And, as I watched the two of them talking, my chest swelled up with that deep ache again, the pain of loneliness and grief.
And, for just a moment, I let myself wish—wish that, somehow, Soarin’ could be the kind of coltfriend—the kind of husband—that I needed. And yet, even as I wished it, I hated myself for wanting it so badly…
You don’t deserve to be happy, that dark voice inside me said. Not after all you’ve done. Not with somepony like Soarin’...
“Shut up,” I muttered to myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aunt Velvet look quizzically at me.
And then, I saw something in Shiny’s face. He was talking, slowly, with the sort of precise enunciation that he only used when he had something delicate he wanted to say. I grimaced, forcing my pain to retreat into its hole, and tuned back in again.
“...some weather we’ve been having lately,” Shiny was saying. “Do you know anyone in the Weather Service? Sounds like one of them may have a screw loose somewhere…”
“I dunno, Shiny,” Soarin’ replied. “I’ve been hearing rumors. Apparently, the weather’s been acting really strange, and there’s only so much that they can do to control it in the first place…”
“Strange?” Shiny repeated. “Strange how?”
Soarin’ shrugged. “Dunno. Ice falling from clear skies, clouds that move against the wind…” He leaned forward a little, and lowered his voice. “Plus there’s some even stranger rumors… weather systems that move against the wind… fogbanks that stick to anyone who tries to push them... clouds that rain stuff they shouldn’t…” He looked around furtively, then dropped his voice again. I strained to hear him. “Some even say,” he continued, “there’s a storm that’s raining things like blood, and dead animals…”
“Animals?” Shiny hissed.
“Yeah. Small stuff, like birds and squirrels.” Soarin’ paused. He must have caught a look in Shiny’s eye, because he straightened up, flashed a smile, and waved a hoof dismissively. “Just some crazy rumors, that’s all. It was probably just some geese that got caught in an unlucky downdraft or something. You can’t believe anything those old Weather Service nags say—I mean, you have to have something to gossip about while towing those clouds all across Equestria...”
Soarin’ laughed, and, a moment later, Shiny joined in. But they were two different laughs, from two different lives.
Soarin’s was the hearty laugh of a Wonderbolt—an entertainer. He lived his life in cycles: buildup, big finale, bow for the audience. In his world, problems went away at the end of the night, and, even if they didn’t, he left them behind when he flew off to the next big show. Among all his laughs, it was a laugh I had come to hate.
But Shiny chuckled the dark, wary chuckle of a Royal Guard. Life in Equestria was fairly quiet, but if the Royal Wedding had taught him anything, it was that danger could come out of nowhere, with barely a hint of warning. Sure, that set of hoof-falls following down the dark street behind you is probably just somepony walking home—but it paid to be paranoid, in case it turned out that they had a knife with your name on it...
I opened my mouth to ask Soarin’ a question—
And suddenly, a blast of horns echoed across the garden, and my heart leapt. Everyone, myself included, turned to look.
At the far end of the garden stood a pair of double doors. Beside them stood a Palace Guard, clad in shining golden armor.
“Presenting, for the first time,” he called, “Her Ladyship Twilight Sparkle!”
A wave of polite applause rippled through the crowd. I smiled wide, then put my hoof to my mouth and whistled. Aunt Velvet shot me a glare, but Shiny laughed.
“Aw, leave her alone, Ma,” he said. “It’s not like she can embarrass her any more…”
I was going to shoot back a snarky reply—but then the doors swung open, and something caught in my throat.
Behind the doors stood Twilight, but as I’d never seen her before. In some ways, she looked just the same, but in others—it was like she had somehow transformed, like a caterpillar into a butterfly. Her mane was in its up-do, like always, but this time, it was deliberate, purposeful, with a smattering of silver stars to make it shine in the light. She wore her silver wire-framed glasses, the ones that accented her facial structure instead of hiding it. Her gown was simple—just a plain yellow one, with a pink scarf—but it was the understated dress of a pony who had nothing to prove. She fit right in with the billionaires and tycoons. She was already speaking their language, without having said a word.
A grin crept over my face. I held my head high, and took a step forward.
“Come on, Soarin’,” I turned called over my shoulder. “It’s time to show the Lady Twilight around—”
But then, I caught movement in the corner of my eye. I looked around, and, to my surprise, saw Rarity, standing directly in front of me.
She stared into my eyes, her expression hard and sharp--but also, full of pain and a faint sadness. She took a deep breath, then shook her head, ever so slightly.
I blinked—then, as comprehension dawned, took a half-step backwards. I looked up at Twilight, standing between the two guards who were fending off all newcomers—and, for just a second, she looked back at me. In her eyes was the faint stirring of panic, and her chest was starting to rise and fall in anxious flutters—but, when she saw me, a flash of a snarl crossed her face, and she turned, with deliberate care, to look pleadingly at Rarity.
Rarity gave me a pitying look, then turned and walked through the crowd towards Twilight. Blue glanced at me, slightly confused, then turned and followed his wife.
I stared at the two of them, wide-eyed, as they walked up to Twilight. Rarity slid right in beside her, then gestured fondly at a couple of ponies in the front row trying to catch her attention.
“Milady, have you met these ponies yet?” she said. “This is Upper Crust and Jet Set, and their son, Radio Future…”
I gulped, suddenly fighting back hot, angry tears. Beside me, Soarin’ looked around, perplexed.
“Um… what just happened?” he asked.
“I’ve been replaced,” I said, my voice hollow.