Sunset closed the cafeteria door behind her and let out a long, painful sigh.
“How did it go?” Twilight asked.
“Well, it . . . went,” she cringed.
“You sounded quite intimidating, if a bit cheesy.”
Sunset groaned and rubbed her eyes. “Oh god, that was so embarrassing. I’m supposed to save the evil monologue for one person at a time, not the whole lunchroom. Did it work, at least?”
Twilight nodded and held up Sunset’s phone. “Anon-A-Miss’s notifications have exploded. Over one hundred people have joined the group we set up.”
“Quiet,” Sunset hushed. “We can’t have anyone overhear us, or everything I just did was a waste of time.”
The two glanced around, and they were fortunately out of earshot. Sunset smiled.
“That’s great to hear, though. Let’s go down to the principal’s office and see if she’s in today.”
“Yeah,” Twilight agreed, “Do you think that she will have your flash drive there?”
“Probably not, but it doesn’t hurt to ask her,” said Sunset.
The two girls walked down the hall toward the principal’s office. Sunset’s heart finally reached a normal tempo, the adrenaline from her speech in the cafeteria wearing off. Twilight had made the suggestion that she try and find a way to push the idea of Sunset being behind the Anon-A-Miss account to the school without completely giving it away.
Cue the egotistical speech, then. It was easy to come up with a public display that would do such a thing, and it also put Chrysalis into a bind on how all the students will treat her for the upcoming days. It was too easy to come up with, she thought.
They reached Principal Celestia’s office and knocked on the door. “Stay hidden, Twilight, in case she isn’t here.”
Twilight nodded and stepped out of view.
A voice, distinctly not the Principal’s, called from inside. “Come in, it’s unlocked.”
Sunset gently opened the door, peeking her head through. “Ah! Principal Luna. How are you?” Sunset put on a weak smile. Shit.
Vice Principal Luna looked up from her desk and smiled. “I am doing quite well, thank you. Is there something you need, Sunset?”
Sunset ignored the emphasis on her name. “I was just wondering if Principal Celestia was in today. I had a few things I needed to tell her about—a few questions about the Fall Formal on Friday.”
“Ah, I’m sorry,” Luna frowned, “but Celestia actually took the next few days off. She was dreadfully sick this morning. I can forward any information to her, if it’s urgent.”
Sunset waved a hand in dismissal. “It isn’t that important. I can wait a few days. Thanks for helping, Vice Principal.”
Whatever changeling was pretending to be the woman, it did not find Sunset’s emphasis funny. “A good day to you, Miss Shimmer.”
Sunset closed the door and turned to Twilight. “I guess we have to go to her house.”
Twilight started toward the door. “Let’s get out of here then. All of these people look too similar to ponies I know, and it’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.”
“Imagine how I felt at first,” Sunset said, following closely behind.
The Dazzlings took a seat in the corner of the diner, eyeing the swath of customers it housed over lunchtime.
“They’re a good bunch,” Adagio commented. “Not nearly enough, of course, but there are some strong folks in the crowd.”
Sonata grabbed a menu and eagerly flipped through it, eyeing all the lunch options. “Ooh! Can we order yet?”
“No, you dunce,” Aria said. “You can’t sing with a throat caked with food.”
“Oh,” Sonata responded sadly, “Okay then.”
Aria turned to Adagio. “So how does it go again? It’s been far too long since we’ve needed to do this.”
Adagio rolled her eyes. “Just follow my lead. Worst case scenario we just shift back into our normal spell.”
“Gotcha,” she responded.
“Well, there’s no point in delaying it any further,” Adagio said. “I know we’re a little out of practice, so let’s consider this a test run.”
The three girls straightened themselves out and harmonized a low hum. A green fog sprung out of thin air, permeating throughout the restaurant. The customers and employees took little notice.
Adagio weaved the melody into a full tune. Sonata and Aria offered harmony, and the once peaceful restaurant heated up, anger quite literally floating through the air. The patrons began arguing with one another, insulting the waitresses, or letting out incensed growls. It was prime feeding ground for the Dazzlings, and they could have had quite the feast if they chose to at any minute.
However, the melody shifted, modulating into a higher key. At first it was shaky, but the sirens regained their footing in enough time to salvage their spell. The fits of anger from the patrons calmed down, all returning to their seats, staring blankly forward. It was then that they whispered out their instructions.
You hate her.
If you saw her right now, you would attack her.
Kill her, even.
The restaurant nodded in agreement. The song drifted into silence, closing off the mystic spell that had overcome the diner.
The patrons were awoken from their reverie, and at most gave a shake of their heads or a confused glance before returning to their food.
“Well, that was a success!” Adagio exclaimed. “We’ve still got it, after all these years.”
Sonata picked the menu back up. “Can we eat now?”
“Sorry Sonata. We’ve got a lot more diners to hit before the day ends,” she said with a wicked grin. “Let’s not waste any more time then, hm?”
The three sirens stood up and made their way toward the door, leaving behind the restaurant, and the first setting of a new trap.
Sunset and Twilight exited the school building and immediately found themselves in front of the last thing they wanted to see. In the center of the courtyard was the same tree that was housing the Changelings, if it were still able to be called a tree. No, at this point, it was a nest. A porous nest which truly did look as if it was filled with changeling eggs, inside and out. Fortunately, they could see no wasps hovering around the area, and with a quick dash across the courtyard and a very wide berth, they circled around the fetid tree completely. No time was wasted to get on the path toward Principal Celestia’s house.
“We really should have gone out the back way. Seeing that on the way in was gross enough,” Twilight said.
“You would think the students would notice it by now,” responded Sunset.
“Chrysalis probably has some sort of illusion magic connected to it. That seems to be her modus operandi.”
“Yeah,” Sunset agreed. “Hopefully we’ve thrown a wrench into that now. All eyes are going to be on her—well, me, I guess—for the next few days.”
A worried expression appeared on Twilight’s face. “This whole Anon-A-Miss thing . . . you know that you’re throwing yourself under the bus here, right? It seems unlike you.”
“Do you have any better ideas?” she spat out. “Chrysalis is making a mockery of the social life I created in that school. If it ends, then it ends on my terms.”
“But,” Twilight said nervously, “That mean’s you can’t stay here. That when this is all over the school will still hate you. You won’t have anywhere to go.”
“I guess, yeah. I’ll just have to return to . . .” The actual consequences suddenly sunk in. “I’ll have to return to Equestria,” she said, dumbfounded.
“I was worried you had not fully thought it out yet,” Twilight said. “I’ll help you, Sunset. A lot of things have happened in the past ten years, but you should be able to catch up quickly.”
Sunset grabbed Twilight’s shoulders and forced her to look into her eyes. “If I go back to Equestria, Twilight . . . I’ll have to face her.”
“I can be there, Sunset,” Twilight said. “I can be on your side. I’ll admit that I didn’t know what you told me about Celestia, but I have a full picture now. I will be there with you when you meet her again.”
“It won’t matter,” she said frantically, “I’ll mess things up. I’m not ready.”
Twilight placed her hands on Sunset’s shoulders, gently lowering them down until their hands were clasped together. “Then work on being ready, Sunset. Show her that you’re a better person. Don’t conform to her, but if she sees that you have handled yourself on your own, then you will have control of the situation. You can’t run away from this forever.”
Sunset sighed. “I’ll . . . try. I’ll think about trying. If things go south . . . I could stay with you, right? For a little while, before I ditch Canterlot and set up a shack in Yakyakistan?”
Twilight giggled. “Of course. Ponyville would love to have you.”
“Ponyville?” Sunset gawked. “That explains everything. You’re a bumpkin.”
“Hey!” Twilight exclaimed. “I was born and raised in Canterlot. Not that there’s anything wrong with Ponyville, either!”
Sunset shrugged. “Whatever you say, as long as I don’t have to eat any strange local cuisine. Like hay, or apples. That’s far too common for me,” she said jokingly.
“Oh, I’ll take you to every restaurant in town to show you how great it is!” Twilight laughed.
“I suppose we could make a day of it,” said Sunset, “As long as you pay.”
“That might be tough; a librarian’s salary doesn’t get you very far outside of Canterlot.”
Sunset chuckled. “I could dig around in my bundle of things for any spare dollars, but I don’t think they will translate to bits very well. Although, if they do, I could really mess with Equestria’s economy. Now you’re putting ideas in my head . . .”
They continued on down the sidewalk, joking about all the things that a librarian and an exile could do in a town like Ponyville. Sunset had not let go of Twilight’s hand, as if she had finally found a refuge amidst all of the calamity that surrounded her. She appreciated Twilight. It had taken her until just then to realize it, but she really did. She appreciated Twilight’s optimism, her determination, the strength she exuded that Sunset could never find, the way she gently brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, how she kept moving forward as if nothing was more important to her than the here and now.
For the first time since Sunset had arrived to this world, and many years before that, a gentle sense of enjoyment stirred within her.
She wanted for nothing.
It almost hurt.
Principal Celestia slumped down into her couch. “So, let’s say, for example, that you’re hosting court and someone—somepony—tries to assassinate you.”
“Such an act of treason has not occurred in three hundred years, but I am following along.”
“Okay, then what’s the sentence? Is it the death penalty? Life imprisonment? Surely you hold consequences for higher crimes.”
Princess Celestia set down her wine glass. “We send them to psychiatric hospitals. They will be restrained, if need be.”
“Really?” The Principal gawked. “What about just a normal murder? Does the victim’s family not want vengeance?”
“Some may, but murder is of such rare occurrence that it becomes a nationwide event, if not hushed by the state—hushed by myself, I should say. Ponies revere their ancestors, and if one dies early for whatever reason, support pours from all across the nation. The pony may become a household name in current events, and they will most certainly be deified.
“However, even if they were not, I could not bring myself to sentence death on one of my ponies. My sister and I are immortal; I cannot enforce something I am unable to experience on another, even if they deserve it. I cannot understand the true consequence that death may hold to a mortal, so we set a law that barred Luna and I from making such a decision. Instead, a deceased pony is remembered and honored for years for their good deeds and beautiful hearts. Most ponies would wish for nothing more after they had left this world than to simply be remembered.”
Principal Celestia tapped her chin in thought. “So what happens to those like you? You immortal beings, so to speak.”
“Banishment,” she said coldly. “Tartarus is the most common place I send them. Once death is removed from the equation, the next best thing is taken away: time. I hold no responsibility to treat beings who wish to destroy my people with respect.”
“That sounds like a slippery slope to me,” the Principal said. “What happens when you or Luna take things a step too far?”
Princess Celestia’s eyes seemed to sink in and cloud over for a split second. “Nothing good.”
“Ah,” the Principal nodded. “When Luna and I were in our senior year of high school we both ran for Class President. I won, with over seventy percent of the vote. She . . . would not speak with me for a year. I assume something similar has happened to you, only on a far greater scale?”
The Princess nodded. “That slippery slope . . . I have fallen down it before. Perhaps when this is all over I should check on some of the beings that have been serving their punishment. If they have changed, or want to change, then I should at least reconsider it. I may not be completely responsible for them, but by enacting a punishment upon them, I suppose I nominate myself for that responsibility.”
The Principal took another absent-minded sip. “I think there’s something else you should be taking responsibility for first.”
The Princess sighed. “I know. I suppose I am simply pushing away fate, by delaying speaking with Sunset for so long.”
“Fate’s got quite the hold on your mind, for whatever reason,” commented the Principal.
“It’s . . . problematic, in Equestria,” the Princess said. “I know you like to describe destiny as an mental concept in this world, but in Equestria, it’s quite real. I have read prophecies and been around long enough to see them come true. Destiny, or Fate, is as much of a force in Equestria as gravity.”
“I wonder if it’s in this world, then,” the Principal said. “I am not sure whether I want it to exist or not.”
“I cannot give you a clear answer,” said the Princess, “I do not feel the force weighing down upon me, if that makes sense. Perhaps slightly, but barely enough to even compare to Equestria. I might feel fate because I am still Equestrian, or because it actually does exist in this world.”
“Good,” the Principal took a drink, “I was worried I was going to have to hear about how ‘free will is a lie’ and all that.”
“No, free will still exists in Equestria as well,” the Princess explained. “I almost believe that destiny has some consciousness to it. Early in my life I could feel when destiny would take hold, when an event or moment in my life was going to alter the future completely. Now, though, I only feel gentle nudges. It is as if fate has broadened its scope to only care about the general beats that must be hit; as long as someone does not stray too far from their intended path, then it will not step in to alter things. That being said, the two weeks before I left Equestria felt similar to centuries past when it felt like we were puppets to fate.”
“And why is that?” The Principal asked.
“Every second I was in Equestria I could feel a sense of dread, that something was wrong. You rarely ever notice when fate is playing around, but it was in the pit of my stomach. It was trying to take control, to make sure everything gets back on track. I thought up the idea to travel to this world, but once I did I almost felt compelled to leave as soon as I could. I am convinced that Chrysalis was never supposed to win; I think she knows it, too. We are in unknown territory.”
“That’s worrying,” commented the Principal.
“Very. Fate has become efficient in the past few hundred years. As much as I pride myself on my governance, I am privy to believe that the reason we have no dangerous crime is because fate no longer sees it as necessary for its goals to be met. People can live until they pass away of old age, and others will never have to face the sin of taking another life. Destiny rarely needs it to advance society in some way anymore.”
“When was the last time something terrible happened, then? When fate could not find a way to meet its goals without causing pain for multiple ponies? Barring immortal beings, of course.” The Principal realized afterword how ridiculous the last sentence sounded coming out of her mouth. When did my life become a fairy tale?
“Well,” the Princess took a deep breath, “the most recent event like that between normal ponies would have to have been about twenty years ago.”
“What was it?”
A nervous expression appeared on her face. “That is the question many ponies tried to answer. We know what happened, but nopony can confidently say that there was any crime committed. We don’t know what happened, in a sense. I cannot tell you.”
The Principal furrowed her brow. “Is it a witness issue? I promise not to go telling ponies from another world that I have an inside scoop on a criminal case, if it sets you at ease.”
“No, it’s not a matter of witnesses . . . magic throws a wrench in many court cases, this one especially. I suppose it started when—”
Three knocks rang out from the front door.
“I’ll get it,” the Principal said, getting onto her feet. She strolled over to the door and leaned into the peephole. “Oh . . .”
“What is the matter?” the Principal asked.
“It’s . . . Twilight and Sunset.”
The Princess jumped up from her seat. “They cannot see me. Sunset must approach me on her own terms.”
“They could be Changelings trying to trick us,” the Principal suggested.
“Find a way to confirm that they are not, and send them away whatever their answer. I will hide in the kitchen.”’
The Principal glanced back at the Princess as she sped out of view. Despite the calm demeanor the Princess tried to maintain, it was obvious to her alternate self that she was worried—terrified, even. Her eyes were frantic, as if searching her surroundings for an escape route, and she fidgeted in her gown like she was possessed by another creature. For whatever reason, Sunset was the Princess’s demon, always weighing over her head and never letting her relax. It felt to the Principal that all of the other troubles the monarch dealt with paled in comparison, since they could rarely get a twitch out of her.
Once the Princess had found refuge out of the way, the Principal creaked open her door, making sure that the her chain door guard was still connected in case they tried to force their way through. She peeked an eye out.
“Hello girls,” she said.
Sunset and Twilight were standing a few feet away from the doorstep, smiling. “Hello!” Twilight said.
What was the codeword? ”It’s good to see you both. Tell me, girls . . . are you both excited for the Fall Formal?”
Sunset smirked. “I have no idea.” She stepped in closer. “It’s good to see you’re okay, Principal.”
The Principal smiled and opened the door slightly wider, enough to stick her head out at the girls. “You as well. What brings you over here today?”
Sunset glanced around and leaned in. “We think we have a way to defeat the Changelings.”
“Oh . . .” the Principal said. “That’s wonderful, Sunset. I have no doubt you can pull off whatever your plan is.”
“Yeah, about that, I’ve got something of mine that I need from you. I don’t really want to explain out here. Could we come inside?”
The Principal nervously frowned, glancing behind her. “I’m not so sure you can, actually . . . I have something going on right now.”
Twilight furrowed her brow. “Something more important than saving the world?”
She shrugged. “Yes . . . ? It’s hard to explain, I just can’t let you in. I doubt the Changelings are spying close enough to hear us whisper to one another, if they are spying at all.”
“What are we interrupting that’s so important?” Sunset asked, an edge of anger in her voice. “If you need to take a few minutes to tidy up, go ahead, but anything you are doing in there is less important than what we have to say.”
“It’s nothing like that,” she said. Stop digging yourself into a hole! “My house is just off limits for . . . student-teacher relationships.”
“We’re dealing with something far more important than social status, here,” Sunset rebuked. “Let us in.”
Twilight leaned in closer to the Principal. “Is something wrong, Principal? Are you being held hostage? Blink three times if the answer is yes.”
“No, no, I just . . . no. I’m sorry.” She started to close the door, but Sunset stuck her hand in between.
“I’m not leaving until you either let us in or explain what the hell is going on,” she growled.
The Principal moved forward, using her body to block the door. “I just cannot let you inside! You’ll understand later, but I have to refuse you,” she said shakily. “I will do whatever you need me to do. I will listen to you out here, I will walk with you to your house if you wish, but you just can’t come in here. Trust me, Sunset. I would not be doing this if it was not for your own good. Come back tomorrow, and we can speak for as long as you need. Just do not come in today—”
“Let them in, Principal.”
Sunset froze. The Principal turned around and gave a defeated look to Princess Celestia, standing directly behind her. The Princess removed the latch on the door and opened it up the whole way. The Principal slid to the side, out of the way of the sudden reunion.
Twilight looked at her mentor in awe, a smile crossing her face. “Princess . . . you’re free . . .”
Whether the Princess heard her or not is uncertain; she and Sunset were completely focused on one another.
Princess Celestia took another step closer. “Sunset.”
Sunset moved her mouth, but no words came out. Instead she gawked at the Princess, unable to comprehend the figure before her.
“Sunset . . . " The Princess glanced to the side, biting her lip. “I am . . . deeply sorry about how I have treated you. It was unbecoming of me, as a teacher, ruler, and a friend. You deserved better than me. I am sorry.”
Sunset refused to speak, eyes locked with the Princess’s.
“It is clear to see that you have thrived in this new environment. That makes me deeply happy; I only wish for you to live your life to its fullest potential. Yet, I am now forcing this terrible burden upon you to fix a mistake that I made. Chrysalis may have divided all of Equestria, but I know that you and Twilight are the best people to reunify. I have complete faith that we can save this world and Equestria together. I trust you, and I want you to know that whatever happens, I will be proud of you.”
She smiled. Sunset twitched.
“I’ve missed you, Sunset Shimmer.”
Silence settled on the doorstep, all of them waiting on Sunset to move. They former student and mentor kept eye contact, as if searching one another for any hint of emotion they were hoping to see.
After a stretch of time, Sunset’s eyes started to water.
At first, it was uncertain if her tears were of a joyous kind or the opposite; her expression remained blank. Twilight placed a hand on her shoulder.
Sunset’s face contorted into a scowl. With one last glare at Celestia, she spun around and ran down the doorstep.
“Sunset! Wait!” Twilight yelled. Sunset did not respond.
Unable to face the Princess any longer, she ran toward wherever her feet would take her.