Canterlot City quieted down in the weeks that followed. It was as if everyone pretended the night didn’t exist; all disputes had been settled quickly, and most wanted to just forgive and forget. The lack of casualties and general embarrassment of the populace made all too eager to sweep it under the rug. With the help of a certain stone that altered the memories of the night, all of the remnants of the Fall Formal were virtually erased from the public consciousness.
Almost all of them.
Principal Celestia swung the axe with a grunt, cutting inch by inch into the side of the tree. She was almost done; soon enough, one good push would send the former hive onto the ground for good. I planted this thing, so you better believe that I’m taking it down, too. She swung the axe again, lodging it into the side.
Playing lumberjack was not what the Principal felt like doing at midnight before a school day, but she needed to get it done. Any time she passed the tree in the morning or throughout the day, she couldn’t help but think about everything that occurred. About the other Celestia, the wasps, and Sunset. She was the only one who remembered it all. As much as she valued her memory, though, part of her wanted to be able to forget.
She swung again. Once, she had truly thought the tree was going to become something beyond itself, looming over CHS far into the future. But it had been tainted. No longer could she let such a dream grow, when its roots were mixed with an evil of alien construction.
Still, each swing felt like she was chopping her own dreams down, bit by bit.
She knew it was foolish—from the second she bought the thing, a nagging voice in the back of her mind said it was a waste of time—but the tree still meant something to her. Because she had built it up in her mind that this little tree really mattered, and that it made her matter as well.
She swung once more. One more chop after this, and she could yell timber.
“Celly? What are you doing? It’s freezing out here.”
The Principal glanced up and saw Luna had pulled up to the courtyard, still in her pajamas. She set the axe down, taking a deep breath. “You’re supposed to be in bed,” she panted.
“I thought you were up to something, and I was right,” said Luna, stepping out of her car and folding her arms. “What are you doing to the tree?”
The Principal motioned at the axe. “I’m cuttting it down.”
“What?” Luna exclaimed. “But . . . what about all of that stuff you talked about? About your legacy, and how other people will see you in the future. Are you giving up?”
Celestia wiped some sweat off her brow. “No . . . I’ve just found what really matters to me.” She looked at Luna and smiled. “This tree isn’t who I want to be. It’s far from it.”
Luna exhaled, amused at Celestia’s strange change of heart. “Well, I guess I can’t stop you.”
Celestia murmured thanks before picking the axe back up and prepping for a final swing. “Stand back, please.” With one thrust, she lodged the axe inside, chipping away just enough to teeter the tree past its edge, and it fell to the ground with a loud crash. She wiped off her hands. “There.”
“Now, what are we going to do with it?” Luna asked.
Celestia shrugged in response. “I say we leave it here, blame it on vandals tomorrow, and get someone to officially pick it up later.”
Luna laughed. “Are you sure you’re okay, Celly? This isn’t like you.”
Celestia walked over and wrapped Luna in a hug. “No, it isn’t. But I’ve been thinking a lot recently, and it’s time I focus on what’s really important to me.”
“And what’s that?”
She pulled out of the hug, simply offering a coy smile in response, as if she knew something that no one else did. She strolled over to her car, and just before she hopped in, turned back to Luna. “What do you say we go and get some cheap food somewhere? Right now, on me.”
“What?” Luna said again, flabbergasted. “Where’s that coming from? I mean, sure, I’d love to, but . . . what?”
Celestia chuckled. “Consider it an act of love. Earthling style,” she added.
Luna shook her head, holding back a snicker. “You really are off your rocker.”
Celestia only grinned in response. She shut her door and pulled out of the parking lot. Luna followed soon after.
While it can be said that Canterlot City quieted down after the events that night, Principal Celestia found her weariness had disappeared, leaving her more excited to live than in a long time. How could she rest when there was so much to do? So much love to spread? So much time to remind everyone that they matter?
Maybe there was some tree out there that could have accurately captured her feelings for her to plant, but ultimately, she didn’t want to trivialize something so important. She had seen first-hand how fast love could turn to hate, rendering any of her satisfaction at the symbolism of such a plant useless. She needed to get out there herself, and make sure things were done right.
But it was going to take time, because she was only one woman with a lot of love to give. Despite her regal name, she was nobody special. Just Celestia. The average, normal, and contented one. The one who could completely focus on spreading joy, who could sit down with a child and have a heart-to-heart, who would never be quite as successful or important as she had hoped, but who became all the more fulfilled because of it.
And nothing felt better than to say that.
A whole universe away, spring was in bloom, and a party was in full swing. After Equestria had gotten back to a sense of normalcy, somepony pointed out that Princess Cadence and Shining Armor had never been officially joined in holy matrimony. So, once spring arrived, everypony wanted to host a celebration, not only of the Prince and Princess’s love, but of Equestria’s triumph over the changelings. It was a party of grand proportion, and they made sure there were no extra, unwanted guests this time around.
Except one, of course.
Sunset Shimmer levitated a small cup of punch up to her mouth, sipping away in the corner of the dance hall. Royal weddings, and royal parties in general, were not her cup of tea. It was nice to see Cadance again, but certainly not nice enough to bug her on her wedding day, and she couldn’t hog Twilight all to herself now that five other friends were in the picture.
The other Element Bearers were great, actually. They were quite accepting of her, more so when they found out she saved the world and became a sort of half-element. It took Sunset longer to adjust to them, still used to their naïve counterparts across the mirror. She watched all six of the girls boogie on the dance floor, having the time of their lives no matter how good they actually were at dancing.
“I see you’re still not one for parties,” a voice said next to her. She turned to Princess Celestia, joining Sunset in her awkward stance next to the punch bowl. “I’m not either, at least, when they don’t revolve around me.”
Sunset snorted. “So you managed to escape the crowd of nobles, huh? You know, if you went on that dance floor right now, you could make all the headlines about you tomorrow.”
“Do you think I could play off my bad dancing as an ancient dance of good fortune?”
“Ooh, I didn’t think about that. You could spin it any way you wanted in the papers.” The two found comfort in the awkward mirth they shared, as had been quite common for the past few months.
“Speaking of the papers, Sunset, they’re quite receptive toward your reconstruction plan. They’ve started to call it the Sunset Shimmer Plan, believe it or not.”
“Oh, the ‘Shimmer Plan,’ good,” Sunset said mockingly. “Now I get all the credit and all the blame.”
“Don’t make it sound like such a terrible thing. They’re still trying to figure out where you came up with all your reforms. I wanted to know too, actually. I do not recall covering the correct ways to handle a national recovery initiative within your studies. You offered ideas that would not have even been in the curriculum, if I have to be honest.”
Sunset put on a smug grin, however it was undercut by the obvious humor she found in the situation. “Has student surpassed the master, after all this time? Maybe I should keep it to myself so I can have a leg up on you.”
“Don’t get too cocky now,” Celestia jested, “or I’ll make you go dance to pop music with Twilight.” They glanced at the dance floor and saw Twilight flailing wildly, knocking and bumping into anypony within a close radius.
Sunset shivered. “I’ve learned my lesson there. I had bruises for a week.”
“Perhaps you could try and give her lessons,” the Princess suggested.
“I have, for slow dancing, actually. Just basic steps, of course.” She paused. “Well, about the national recovery. When I first arrived on Earth, I forced myself to catch up on world history. It turns out they’ve got quite a penchant for getting into wars over there.”
“Ah,” said Celestia, “and thus they needed to rebuild.”
“Right,” Sunset responded. “I studied some reconstruction plans and agendas meticulously for a while.”
“Why?” the Princess asked.
“Well . . .” a blush rose to her cheeks. “If I took over the world by force I needed to know how to correctly rebuild infrastructure,” she stammered out.
Celestia laughed. “I appreciate the admission.” She settled down and took another sip of punch. “I thought your plan was very impressive. I’m proud.”
“Aw, thanks,” Sunset responded, “it was nothing. Although, if you wanted to commission me a fancy glass mural, I wouldn’t complain.”
Celestia levitated a glass of punch to her mouth. “I’m not sure anything you did would translate well onto a painting.”
“I can think of at least one moment. Inside the mirror portal?”
Celestia nearly spat out her drink. “Ah, so you remember? I figured your memory would have been erased.”
“Chrysalis helped jog my memory. Do you know what happened to me, Celestia?”
Celestia sighed. “I vowed to be more honest with you, so I will try. You were handed . . . potential, to be something more. I say this warily, but if you so choose—under the right circumstances—you could . . .”
“I could what?”
“I think you know.”
Sunset nodded. “Chrysalis said that I couldn’t . . . ascend.”
“Chrysalis was also quite spiteful. Let’s not discuss this right now. I don’t want you to make a rushed decision. It’s better for everypony if you think long and carefully.”
“Okay.” She took another sip.
Silence settled between the two once more. Sunset scanned the Princess’s features; it had been ten years, but somehow, she looked lighter, almost to the point of being a new pony. Of course she does, Sunset thought, she’s got Luna back, the world is on the up, and . . . I’m back, too.
“Hey, Celestia?”
“Yes, Sunset?”
“What are . . . we, anymore? Mentor and student? Colleagues? Friends?” She paused to swallow nervously. “Mother and daughter?”
Celestia, once a mare who may have fretted for days to find the perfect answer to said question, simply shrugged. “How about ‘Celestia and Sunset’?”
Sunset felt a smile creeping up her face. “If we say ‘Sunset and Celestia’ it’s a deal.”
“I concede,” Celestia said, stretching out a foreleg and pulling Sunset in for a quick hug.
Both of their eyes drifted to the dance floor, and onto the one mare out there that both of them were quite attached to. Twilight had become far more mature after they had returned to Equestria, and although it seemed that Sunset would be taking credit for the reconstruction, Twilight had done just as much as she had in returning everything to normal. Sunset’s expression softened as she gazed at the mare on the dance floor. She wasn’t able to see a life on this side of the mirror without Twilight anymore.
“You know, Celestia, I . . . I don’t think I want the wings. Or to be a princess.”
Celestia stared at her, aghast. “Sunset, I . . . you’re a strong mare to refuse such an offer.”
Sunset smiled, a unique sense of pride filling her as she watched Twilight on the dance floor. “If there’s any pony who deserves to be a princess . . . it’s her.”
“I’m glad you agree,” said Celestia.
“Yeah . . .” Sunset shot up, doing a double take. “Wait, what? Actually?”
“Don’t get too excited now,” she said, “But, things will start to change soon enough. You may want to take a short vacation if I ever send Twilight an uncompleted spell of Starswirl the Bearded’s to solve.”
“I’ll keep it noted,” she remarked. “I shouldn’t tell her this, right?”
“No, of course not. It would be a shame to spoil for her what she gets to do next. Also, she’s looking at you.”
“Huh?” asked Sunset.
“Twilight. She’s looking at you.”
A large crowd of ponies were fleeing off of the dance floor or splitting into groups of two. Twilight stood near the edge, giving Sunset a slight wave. The DJ threw on a slow tune, and the bright lights dimmed down into a sets of warm, slow rays swathing across the dance floor. Sunset took her cup and levitated it over to the wastebin.
“A couples tune,” Celestia said. “She’s waiting for you. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Sunset said, strolling over to Twilight on the edge of the dance floor.
“Hey,” the lavender mare said.
“Hey.”
Off to the side of the dance floor, Sunset noticed five ponies eagerly watching the two, unsubtly motioning her to get on with it.
“May I lead?” she said, grasping Twilight’s hooves and leading her on to the dance floor.
It was simple, just basic steps back and forth, but it was all Twilight was comfortable with. Sunset leaned her head to Twilight’s side, her mouth able to whisper right into her ear.
“How about this for a change? Just a normal party.”
“Yeah,” Twilight whispered back. “It’s good to be back home.”
“What a nice feeling.”
“Truly.”
Sunset tried spice up the dance a bit, spinning Twilight around. It sort of worked.
“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” she asked Twilight.
“Not a bit,” she said. “And you?”
“Me neither. I’m a scholar, not a dancer.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Yet as the two danced across the floor, a sense of satisfaction and tranquility drifted over them, giving them the respite they had long desired.
The Canterlot Wedding.
The Fall Formal.
They were failures, at least of their original intention. But now, after winter had come and gone, Harmony smiled down on Equestria, and gave a brief solace to those who wished for it the most.
Everything’s back on track, Sunset thought. Mostly.
As her hooves glided across the floor, she realized that, even though it may not have been exactly how she planned, or how she wanted, she may have found her wings after all.
So Sunset flew.