//------------------------------//
// The Queen of Roses 
// Story: SAPR 
// by Scipio Smith 
//------------------------------//


The Queen of Roses


Sunset blinked. She looked again at the sheet of parchment in her hand. It couldn’t be. There was no way.
She turned the parchment upside down. It didn’t help at all, so she turned it right-way up again and took another look. It was the same as it had been the last time she looked, but… this couldn’t be right, could it?
How on Remnant… what were the odds of this?
Sunset thought back to that day in the spa, one of many halcyon days that seemed so long ago now, to the idea that she had proposed to help Lady Nikos save face. Who would have thought it, eh? Certainly not Sunset Shimmer. It was enough to make her want to laugh aloud, but as this was a library, after all, she contented herself with a smile. 
Footsteps echoed on the steps leading down into the cellar-like space beneath the tower. It turned out to be Cinder, preceded by her shadow on the wall from the lights up above. She descended and stopped at the sight of Sunset’s smiling face. 
One eyebrow rose. “You’re in a better mood than I expected you would be.”
The smile faded from Sunset’s face. “Why should I be in a bad mood?”
Cinder’s eyebrow remained resolutely elevated as she walked towards Sunset. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
“Who says I’m pretending?” Sunset asked.
“I do,” Cinder declared. “Because I didn’t just meet you yesterday.”
Sunset let her hands – one of them still clutching the faded parchment – fall to her sides. “I’m fine,” she said softly. “I mean, it’s not like it’s the first time that we’ve been separated. And what, did I think that we were going to be together forever? What am I, a six-year-old? Things end, that’s all, and we have to accept that and keep-”
Cinder reached out and placed a hand on Sunset’s shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” she repeated. “You don’t have to be the good huntress with me; you don’t have to mouth the lies about moving forward.”
Sunset looked into Cinder’s eyes. “They’re not lies.”
“The pieties, then,” Cinder said. “You don’t have to pretend. I know how much Ruby means to you; even the most insufferable enthusiast for moving forward would allow you to be sad that this is ending.”
“Everything ends,” Sunset declared, shrugging off Cinder’s shoulder. “Everything ends, and it’s always sad. But new things always begin afterwards, and that’s always happy. I choose to be happy, for Ruby’s sake.” She paused. “Thank you,” she said, “for everything you did while I was… away.”
“I did my best,” Cinder murmured. “It wasn’t enough. Not without you.” She frowned. “Am I allowed to ask?”
“Ask what?”
“What they did to you?” Cinder said. “They must have done something because… I forgot about you, yes, we all forgot, but that’s only one half of it. Whether we remembered you or not, nothing could have kept you from coming to our aid… except something did.”
Sunset was silent for a moment. She didn’t want to talk about it, but… if anyone would understand what it was like to have your body invaded by a malign force that bent you to its will, then Cinder would. 
“They took my body,” she murmured.
“What?” Cinder’s voice was as sharp as one of her blades of glass.
“They took my body,” Sunset repeated. “Dawn’s semblance, she… possessed me. Wore me like a suit.”
Cinder stared at her, eyes wide, her grip on Sunset’s shoulder tightening until it was almost painful. “If they were not already dead,” she hissed, “I would burn them to ashes.”
“Then I am glad they’re dead,” Sunset said. “You don’t need that upon your conscience.”
“So many black acts lie upon my conscience, so many innocent lives or near enough, what is the death of two guilty women on top of that?”
“Nothing,” Sunset murmured. “Everything.”
Cinder was silent for a moment. “You cannot possibly be feeling right after such an ordeal.”
“I am, believe it or not, better than I was,” Sunset insisted. “I am… renewed, somewhat. I don’t… things have been made clear to me; things have been resolved. I can put my past behind me and-”
“Don’t say it,” Cinder said.
“You might not like it, but sometimes, we must do it.”
“Can you at least find another formulation to express it?” Cinder asked.
A smile tugged at the corner of Sunset’s lips. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I’m not okay. If I was okay… I shouldn’t be going home; that is the truth of it. The war will not wait for it, Professor Ozpin may not wait for it, but… I need it. I need to go home, I need to see it again, I need to see Princess Celestia again, I need… I need this.”
“Then the war will wait,” Cinder declared. “The world will wait if need be; it owes you that much. After everything that you have suffered, everything that you have sacrificed, I think that you deserve this small indulgence.” She smiled. “Besides, I’m quite curious to visit your home, the land of talking, pastel-coloured ponies. I want to see for myself how sickeningly sweet it is.”
Sunset snorted. “Which reminds me; at some point, I need to talk to Cardin about that. He doesn’t actually know what he’s letting himself in for yet.”
“Can I be there when you tell him?” Cinder asked.
Sunset sighed. “I should probably say no, but okay. In any event, what brings you down here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Cinder replied. “Where are we, anyway?”
“An archive, of sorts,” Sunset said. “Old documents going back to when this place was the farthest-flung outpost of the Kingdom of Vale.”
Cinder’s brow furrowed. “So, did something in these old documents tickle you, because you have little reason to smile else, if you’ll forgive me saying so.”
Sunset laughed nervously and scratched the back of her head with one hand. “I think Jaune might be the heir to the throne of Vale.” 
Cinder stared blankly at her. “Come again.”
“My reaction precisely, but look at this,” Sunset said, holding up the parchment in her hand. It was a picture of a sword: a long, straight sword with a familiar hilt. “What do you see?”
Cinder looked at it for a moment. “Crocea Mors.”
“Exactly,” Sunset said. “It’s Crocea Mors.”
“That’s what I said: it’s Crocea Mors.”
“No,” Sunset said. “You don’t understand; this is the Crocea Mors that was wielded by Jaune of Gaunt, Duke of Westmorland and son of King Edward Farstrider, just as it says there.”
“‘A history of the blade Crocea Mors, the strength of my house and the bane of my enemies,’” Cinder read. “‘It was forged in the year 820 for Jaune, Duke of Westmorland, otherwise known as Jaune of Gaunt, fourth son of King Edward, the first of his name, known by men as the Farstrider. The blade was placed in Gaunt’s hand by Olivia, foremost of the King’s Knights Paladin, when she’… and you think this is the same sword?”
“At first, I thought that it was an act of homage,” Sunset said. “I thought that the Arc family had named their blade after the famous blade borne by the duke and his heirs, but look at the picture! They look exactly the same!”
“Possibly they did,” Cinder murmured. “Until you reforged Jaune’s sword.”
“Until your friend Mercury broke it, you mean?” Sunset replied.
“Either way,” Cinder said quickly, “it doesn’t look like the same sword any more.”
“That is unfortunate,” Sunset agreed.
Cinder’s eyes narrowed. “Unfortunate for what?”
“Unfortunate for proving that Jaune really is Jaune of Gaunt’s rightful heir,” Sunset said, “and heir to the throne of Vale.”
Cinder blinked. A little laugh escaped. “Sunset… this is a historical curiosity at best-”
“Why?” Sunset asked. “Pyrrha is heir to the throne of Mistral-”
“Pyrrha has more proof of her descent than a drawing of a sword.”
“Come on, embrace your inner romantic,” Sunset insisted.
“What would make you assume that I have an inner romantic?” Cinder asked.
“You defied four kingdoms and all the might in arms of Atlas,” Sunset reminded her. “You took a stand against all the most powerful people in Remnant; you set yourself as an enemy against the whole world and believed that you could toppled them all. What is that, if not the actions of a romantic?”
“I was not romantic,” Cinder corrected. “I was angry.”
“If you say so,” Sunset said, conceding without actually conceding, “but just think about it: wouldn’t it be something if the heirs to the thrones of Mistral and Vale were to wed? Two great kingdoms, two ancient dynasties-”
“Dynasties ruling nothing, we’re not talking about the marriage of a king and queen; all of this is irrelevant.”
“Not in Mistral,” Sunset said. “There is power in old blood; if I can find proof that Jaune is Valish royalty by descent from the kings of Vale, then a great many snobs will have to stop bellyaching and accept that he and Pyrrha will be wed.”
“I never got the impression that Pyrrha cared about his background.”
“She doesn’t, and even her mother stopped caring about such things, but this is about the city,” Sunset said. “This is about making their lives together easier in the days ahead. I’m going to see if I can find more evidence.”
“That will have to wait,” Cinder said. “The queen commands your presence.”
Sunset hesitated. “Was that strange to say?”
“Was it strange to hear?”
Sunset hesitated. “A little,” she admitted. “How is her coronation outfit going?”
“The queen does not wish to wear fur,” Cinder declared. “Which is awkward, because fur is most of what they seem to have in store around. Bear pelt, wolf pelt, beaver pelt, cougar pelt, and none of it of any use whatsoever.”
“I’m sure you’ll come up with something,” Sunset said.
“So will you,” Cinder replied.
“Hmm?”
“Defeating Salem?” Cinder reminded her. “Saving the world? That was quite a promise you made in there.”
“A promise I mean to keep,” Sunset vowed. “Though I… don’t know how, just yet.”
Cinder chuckled. “You’ll figure something out,” she said. “You always do.”
“I don’t suppose you have any ideas?”
“If Salem has a weakness, she did not tell me of it,” Cinder said. “I doubt that anyone knows of it but her.”
“Do you think she has a weakness?”
“I… I’m afraid that I have no idea,” Cinder confessed. “I’m not being much help, am I?”
“I can’t imagine doing this without you,” Sunset replied. Especially not now.
“You don’t have to,” Cinder said, taking Sunset’s hand in her own. “I’m with you, to whatever end.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer and more gentle. “'And all the rains that fell upon our house illumine now this many-coloured Arc.'”
“Hmm?”
“Richard the Second,” Cinder explained. “Sunset, surely you’ve not forgotten my debut?”
Sunset’s mouth opened just a little. “The opening speech from the play?”
Cinder smiled and placed one hand upon her heart. “'Now is the work of many years complete. The sun shines now on a united Vale. And all the rains the fell upon our house illumine now this many-coloured Arc.'”
“You delivered it better on stage,” Sunset remarked.
“I hardly had to act on stage; to all intents, I was Richard then,” Cinder declared. “I had exchanged a hunched back for a grimm inside my body, but I was no less deformed in form and soul. Now… his passions move me less; I have less sympathy for his condition, let alone his schemes. In any event, I didn’t bring it up so that you could critique my performance, but to remind you of that line: 'the many-coloured Arc.'”
Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “You think it’s a reference to the Arc family?”
“Why not?” Cinder asked. “Modern scholarship will tell you that it is a reference to a rainbow, known in Courtly Valish as an arc-en-ciel. Certainly, that is part of it, but an audience who still lived under the royal line might be presumed to have understood a reference that has been forgotten in the modern day.”
“Perhaps,” Sunset allowed. “But the family name wasn’t Arc in those days… but the crest.”
“The crest?”
“On the tower wall, there is an image of a shield with a single crescent upon it. Jaune has a shield with a double crescent… and the hilt of the blade thrust into the fasces, again, it looks like Jaune’s Crocea Mors.”
“An arc is a crescent,” Cinder pointed out. “So when Shakst’spur refers to the many-coloured arc, he is referring not only to the rainbow which follows a storm but also to the symbol of the triumphant royal family.”
“And when the Duke of Alexandria renounced his titles and retired, he might have changed his name to Arc to reference the old family crest… as well as barely changing said crest; he just added another arc onto it.”
Cinder chuckled. “Very audacious of him. I approve.”
Sunset let out a little gust of laughter herself. “I can’t believe it,” she said. “I can’t believe that the lie I came up with… it’s really true. Jaune Arc is the heir to the throne of Vale.”
“'The heir'?” Cinder asked. “Are there no other candidates?”
“The Great War pruned many branches of the family tree,” Sunset said. “And others… withered naturally. The Last King was hardly unique in dying without issue.” She shook her head. “Of course, a cryptic reference in a play is no more proof than a picture of a sword; in fact, it’s less convincing… but thank you for reminding me. I really feel as though I’m onto something here. I’ll have to do more research.”
“To save Jaune from the snobs of Mistral?” Cinder asked. “Let me tell you honestly: they’re not worth the effort.”
“To satisfy my curiosity,” Sunset declared. “I… I want to know now. I want to be sure that it’s real. I want to know if I accidentally hit on the truth in my search for a good lie.” She grinned. “I want to know if I had the heirs to two of the great kingdoms on my team all along.” She chuckled. “The rightful heirs to Mistral and Vale, and the future Queen of Freeport… and me, the only one of the three who actually wanted to wear a crown… and the only one who will not wear one.”
“You could have,” Cinder pointed out.
“Did Ruby tell you that?”
Cinder nodded. “She said that you were offered the crown even before Ruby was, but would not take it. Did she lie?”
“No,” Sunset said. “I’m not sure Ruby’s capable of lying.”
“Really?” Cinder asked. “I think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth if she thought the lie was for a good cause. Don’t mistake her kindness for innocence, still less naïvety; has she not proven to you by now that she is good, not nice?”
Sunset shook her head. “I’ve never known her to lie to me.”
“She never knew you to lie to her, until she found out you had,” Cinder pointed out. “Why didn’t you take the crown?”
“I have responsibilities away from here, to Professor Ozpin, to-”
“You could have left Ruby to handle these affairs and gone to Anima, leaving her to follow as she plans to later,” Cinder replied. “Are you still so mired in loathing of yourself that you do not believe yourself to be worthy?”
Sunset shook her head. “My worth is not the issue. I am… do you think General Ironwood ever felt torn between his duty to Professor Ozpin and to Atlas?”
“I wouldn’t presume to say,” Cinder murmured. “Although perhaps I should say something, and thus summon Rainbow Dash down from out of the north to chastise me for slandering the great and noble General.” 
“If I thought that would work, I would have you do it,” Sunset said, “but the point is that I would not be divided between the kingdom that crowned me and my duties to Professor Ozpin. I would not serve two masters.”
“Yet you will be Professor Ozpin’s huntress and the Queen’s ambassador,” Cinder reminded her.
“True,” Sunset conceded. “I hope the latter role will not prove too durable or too onerous.”
“It might,” Cinder suggested. “If you keep Her Majesty waiting much longer.”
Thus chastised, and justly so, Sunset made her way back to the dining hall, where Ruby was waiting for her. 
“Your Majesty,” Sunset said, and when she had got within a dozen paces of where Ruby sat, she stopped and curtsied. “I apologise if I have kept you waiting.”
“Sunset,” Ruby said reproachfully. “Do you have to do that? Do we have to do this, even when we’re alone? There’s no one else here; can’t we just be… like we used to?”
“How is that, my queen?” Sunset asked. “You hating me?”
“You know what I mean!” Ruby cried. “Princess Celestia said that the worst part was that this crown would separate me from everyone.”
“Princess Celestia has much wisdom,” Sunset murmured. “I… didn’t understand why she minded at the time.”
“Do you get it now?”
“I have not experienced it.”
“No, that will be me,” Ruby muttered. “Lucky me.” Her expression brightened. “Ooh, but she said that she’d work with you to make a book that I could use to talk to her!”
Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Did she?”
Ruby nodded eagerly. “That way I can ask her for advice on… on anything, really. Ruling stuff.”
Sunset smiled. “There is no better teacher in the art of good governance and just rule than Princess Celestia. If you follow her example, then you will soon lead Freeport into an era of peace and prosperity the like of which these people can scarce have dreamt of.”
“If Salem lets me,” Ruby murmured.
“She won’t have a choice,” Sunset vowed. “I will not allow her one. And I will make Your Majesty a book. In fact, I will make two.”
“'Two'?” Ruby repeated.
“One so that Your Majesty may speak with Princess Celestia,” Sunset said, “and another that you may speak with me, though the CCT be down, if Your Majesty wishes to do so.”
“You mean… that we’d have a pair of magic books, that were for the two of us.”
“Only if you like,” Sunset said. “I don’t have to-”
Ruby moved in a blur of rose petals, covering the distance between the two of them in a mere instant, wrapping her arms around Sunset’s waist and squeezing her tight. “I would love it,” she said. “I would love that so much.”
Sunset frowned. “This is hardly the conduct of a queen.”
“I don’t care,” Ruby said. “And besides, if I’m the queen, then who is there to tell me that I’m behaving in the wrong way?”
“That… is a fair point, in this rough country,” Sunset conceded, wrapping her arms around Ruby in turn and squeezing her as Ruby was squeezing Sunset. “I will miss your wisdom. In fact, it’s probably selfish of me to make a way for us to keep in touch just so I can keep picking your brain.”
“I don’t care,” Ruby repeated. “Even if it is selfish, I still want it. I still love it.”
“I’m glad,” Sunset murmured. “Just as I am glad that you will have Princess Celestia watching over you, if only from a distance. I meant what I said: no one will give you better advice than she will.”
“I know,” Ruby said, releasing Sunset and retreating back towards her seat. “And she gave me the advice to talk to you about your mission to Freeport.” She walked towards the seat at the head of the table and sat down there. “Sit down,” she urged, gesturing to the many empty chairs that lined the table.
“If we are discussing my mission for my queen, then I should stand,” Sunset said. “Or would my queen prefer me to kneel?”
“Are you doing this on purpose to be annoying, or are you serious?”
“I’ll never tell,” Sunset said, a trace of a smile fleeting across her face. “What would my queen have of me? What shall I ask of Atlas and what shall I offer?”
Ruby was silent for a moment. “The Sun Queen wanted to keep her kingdom a secret, so that she could wait until she was as strong as the other kingdoms before she revealed herself to them. I think… I think she was wrong. That isn’t real strength. Real strength comes from us all working together, all of the kingdoms united against the real enemy. Or against the grimm, at least. I want… I want Estmorland to be one of those united kingdoms, standing together with the others. And that’s why I want you to ask Atlas for help. I’m not asking you to ask them for a huge army; even just a few huntsmen would help. Maybe Blake could lead them,” she suggested, her face and eyes alike brightening at the thought. “Maybe you could suggest that to General Ironwood and the Council?”
“I will remind General Ironwood that Blake was a friend of ours,” Sunset said. “She is very young to command an expedition, but on the other hand, she is in the know about all of this business with Salem, so… it could happen. I’ll try it anyway.”
“And a CCT tower,” Ruby added. “If they built a tower here in Freeport to replace the one at Vale that was destroyed, then the network could be brought back up.”
“It could, but building towers is an expensive business,” Sunset said. “You’re asking for a lot, my queen.”
“I know,” Ruby murmured. “And that’s why I’m willing to offer the SDC complete control over all the dust mines found in Estmorland.”
Sunset blinked rapidly. “Complete… you’re just going to hand the SDC all the dust in this kingdom?”
“Uh huh?”
“How much are you going to charge them for that?”
“Nothing,” Ruby said, as though Sunset should have been able to work that out for herself.”
“You’re going to give them all the dust for free?”
Ruby’s brow furrowed. “You think I’m making a mistake, don’t you?”
“I think you’ll need money if you want to become part of the community of kingdoms, my queen,” Sunset said. “And I think that, that being the case, it is… not wise to give away your most valuable asset for nothing. At the very least, you should sell the mining concessions, if you will not lease them out.”
“And what if the SDC doesn’t want to pay?” Ruby asked. “What if they’re scared off by how wild this place is? After all, they’ve never tried to mine here before.”
“It will not be wild forever,” Sunset replied. “Once you have cemented your rule and brought the clans to heel-”
“I don’t know if we can wait that long,” Ruby said. “We need help now. If the SDC is starting to mine for dust, then Atlas won’t be able to ignore us, will they?”
“Is that what this is about?” Sunset asked. “You’re banking that the SDC will be so desperate for the mines here that they will become your ally in pressing for Altesian assistance for Freeport?”
“Do you think it will work?”
Sunset was silent for a moment. “Your Majesty knows what I think.”
“And I think that it’s best that the dust should be dug out of the ground where it can be used to help people survive and help huntsmen fight against the grimm,” Ruby declared. 
“That… is a very idealistic point of view,” Sunset murmured. “But after the last queen this kingdom had, some idealism is perhaps what Freeport and Estmorland require. Very well, Your Majesty. I will carry your generosity to Atlas. What else shall I say?”
They had other discussions of that sort, in the few days that followed: what Sunset could offer to Atlas, what she could offer to Mistral if need be, what she could say, and what she could not say. 
And in between times, with little preparations to return to Equestria necessary, Sunset found herself haunting the Queen’s library, searching for more evidence of Jaune’s royal lineage and descent from old Jaune of Gaunt. 
It was in the library, or the basement if you wished to call it that, where Cardin found her. 
His footsteps were heavier than Cinder’s had been and drew Sunset’s gaze up towards him as she heard him coming. He cast a larger shadow than Cinder too, at one point blocking out all the light coming down from above and leaving Sunset dependent on the whale-oil lamp she had brought with her. 
Even as he descended the stairs further, he was silhouetted, not illuminated; the light did not shine on his face until he came into range of the lamp by Sunset. His brow was furrowed a little as he looked around at the stacked archive of faded parchments. 
“Cinder told me that I’d find you here,” Cardin said.
“Cinder was right,” Sunset said softly.
“She said that you think Jaune is the rightful king of Vale.”
Sunset had brought a chair and a desk down here to aid in her researches, and she leaned backwards in said chair as she said, “I don’t suppose you know enough history to tell me why Vale never repealed the Succession Law of 1281, forbidding women from succeeding to the throne?”
“I didn’t even know there was a Succession Law of 1281.”
Sunset nodded. “It was instituted by King Henry the Seventh, whose mother had overthrown his father and ruled as queen for most of his life, and so when she died, he rewrote the law so that it couldn’t happen again. If you ask me, he had some issues. Although that doesn’t explain why nobody ever changed the law back.”
“None of this explains why any of it matters,” Cardin replied.
“It matters because if it weren’t for Henry’s laws, then the heir to the throne of Vale would be Jaune’s eldest sister,” Sunset explained.
“Isn’t it his father anyway?” Cardin asked. “Unless his father is dead, I don’t know.”
“Not as far as I know,” Sunset said. “But in any case, if his father lives, then he is the rightful claimant in the same way that Lady Nikos is the rightful claimant to the vacant throne of Mistral. In each case, the heir is… well, it’s Jaune and Pyrrha, respectively.”
“Again, why does this matter?” Cardin asked. “The monarchy ended with the Last King; even I know that. Vale has no king, nor needs one.”
“Looking at the recent performances of your elected magistrates, I’m not so sure about that,” Sunset murmured.
“Novo Aris made some mistakes,” Cardin admitted, “but nobody could have foreseen the circumstances which she was thrown into.” His voice grew bitter. “Nobody outside Professor Ozpin’s circle of trust, anyway.”
Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not Professor Ozpin’s fault that the First Councillor fell.”
“Wasn’t it?” Cardin demanded. “He didn’t tell her anything! The grimm, the White Fang, he knew that it was all connected, he knew that there was something bigger going on, and he kept it to himself! He let Councillor Aris blunder on, making mistake after mistake because she didn’t realise-”
“And what would she have done differently if she had realised?” Sunset snapped. “Professor Ozpin didn’t force her to keep screwing up. He didn’t make her abandon Ruby and I and everyone else in the forest. He didn’t argue for any of the bad calls she made. Based on her track record, I’m not surprised that Professor Ozpin kept her in the dark; nothing suggests that she would have used the knowledge wisely if he had bestowed it on her.”
Cardin scowled. “Do you really believe it’s right that a headmaster should know more than the elected leader of the kingdom?”
“Yes,” Sunset said bluntly. “Firstly, because the elected leader of the kingdom was a little bit useless-”
“Things were going fine until the administration was hit by a runaway bus,” Cardin insisted. His eyes narrowed. “Or a runaway train.”
“Everybody’s over that by now, Cardin,” Sunset said. “Nobody cares any more.”
“You might not,” Cardin muttered.
“And secondly, Professor Ozpin is immortal, blessed with the wisdom of ages; there is no one better to lead the people through crises and the days of peace.”
Cardin folded his arms across his broad chest. “Really? And what makes you so sure about that?”
“Because I…” Sunset hesitated. “You know, it’s a good thing that we’ve reached this point, because I actually need to talk to you about this. You know… no, you don’t know, do you?” Because I didn’t mention it at the time. “First of all, thank you for agreeing to come to Anima with me and Cinder. I appreciate that it would have been easy for you to-”
“To what?” Cardin asked. “To stay here? Freeport isn’t my home; Vale is. I don’t plan to settle down anywhere but there. I’m coming to Anima with you because I think we can do good for Vale in Mistral… or, you’re welcome, I suppose. But what does that have to do with what we were talking about?”
“Nothing,” Sunset admitted. “And everything.” She scratched the back of her head nervously. “We… will not be taking a ship to Anima.”
Cardin’s eyebrows rose. “Okay, I shouldn’t be surprised you can walk on water on top of everything else.”
“We’ll be taking a train,” Sunset said, and rather enjoyed the bemused expression on his face. “There’s a lot that you don’t know about me, Cardin Winchester.”
“Did I not realise that you were delusional?” Cardin asked.
“What I’m about to tell you may sound delusional,” Sunset admitted. “I came to Remnant from another world, a world called Equestria. A world inhabited by fantastical creatures, many of them… talking ponies.”
Cardin blinked. “'Talking ponies'?”
“Yes,” Sunset said, with an absolutely straight face and a perfectly sincere tone. “Magical, talking, pastel-coloured ponies. Earth ponies bound to the land, pegasi blessed with command over the weather, unicorns gifted with…” – she raised her hand, a green glow of magic surrounding it as she levitated a dozen scrolls off the nearest shelf – “magic.”
“Magic?” Cardin repeated. “That’s your semblance.”
“No, my semblance is actually a form of empathy,” Sunset replied. “I touch someone with my bare skin, and I can feel their emotions and experience some of their memories. That’s why I’ve taken to wearing gloves.”
Cardin stared at her. “Your semblance is empathy?”
“Nobody is more aware of the irony than I am, believe me.”
“And you have magic?”
“Not in the same way that Maidens have magic,” Sunset clarified. “Equestrian magic, which I brought with me from my own world.”
“Your world full of talking ponies?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure that you’re not delusional?”
“No, I am not delusional; I am an alicorn,” Sunset said. “Didn’t you wonder where the weather was coming from when we fought at Threadneedle?”
“I meant to ask you about that,” Cardin admitted, “but when you told me that you held the Fall Maiden powers for a little while, I figured you might have some vestigial essence of them, and that was why you were able to call down storms.”
“No,” Sunset said. “It’s not that.”
“Are you sure it’s not that?”
“Why would I make this up?” Sunset demanded. “And if I were out of my mind, why would I keep it to myself until now?”
“You have been through a lot lately,” Cardin pointed out.
“True, but not enough to rob me of my wits.”
“Okay, say that I believe you,” Cardin said. “Actually, wait, let me make sure I understand. You’re telling me that you are not faunus.”
“I was turned into a faunus when I came to your world,” Sunset said. “Transformed by the power of the magical portal that sent me here.”
“Why did you come here?” Cardin asked. “This place… has its faults.”
“For the fame,” Sunset said. “For the glory. For the power.”
Cardin stared at her.
“Because I was an idiot.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Cardin muttered. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I’m going home,” Sunset declared, “and if you want to come with me, then you will… be coming with me, obviously.”
“I thought we were going to Anima.”
“Via my home world,” Sunset said. “There is a portal to Equestria nearby. We’ll go through it, cross to the other portal which I used to get to Remnant in the first place, and come out the other side in Atlas. Then we can get an airship to take us to Mistral.”
Cardin’s eyes narrowed. “And that’s better than getting a boat because-”
“A boat won’t let me see my home again.”
“At least you’re being honest,” Cardin conceded. “I take it Cinder has no problem with this.”
“None that she’s voiced to me,” Sunset said. “One other reason… there is another pony here in Freeport, one who fell through the portal and became trapped here, a prisoner of the Sun Queen. I owe it to her, and to my old home, to get her back to Equestria safely.”
“I see,” Cardin murmured. “How long have you been away?”
“Six years,” Sunset said.
“You left your home when you were twelve? Thirteen?”
“Twelve,” Sunset said. “An overachieving and highly ambitious twelve.”
“No kidding; when I was twelve, I didn’t even want to do my homework, let alone cross worlds,” Cardin said. He hesitated for a moment. “Okay.”
Sunset hesitated. “Okay?”
“Yes, okay,” Cardin repeated. “I’ll go with you and see your home. Six years… I can’t imagine being away that long. No matter our disagreements… I can’t begrudge you the chance.”
Sunset smiled at him. “Thank you, Cardin,” she said. “I appreciate this, I really do.”
“Though I still don’t see what it has to do with immortals.”
“Oh! Yes, well, my home is ruled by Princess Celestia, an immortal alicorn who has governed and guided all the ponies of my realm for a thousand years and who has presided over the rise and rise of a society that is peaceful, prosperous, and in as much harmony with itself as can be managed. Thousands upon thousands, maybe millions, of ponies dwell in great cities and small towns alike, and she holds them all in harmony as a conductor maintains the concordant music of the orchestra.”
“Good for her,” Cardin growled. “It doesn’t follow that an immortal is necessarily the best choice to lead everyone everywhere.”
“It has to be better than letting ordinary people make a choice,” Sunset muttered.
Cardin rolled his eyes. “And if we can’t have that, then a king is better?”
“If you can’t have an immortal, then someone trained to rule and lead from their earliest youth is the next best thing, although that next obscures the distance between the two of them, yes,” Sunset said, as though that were obvious.
Cardin shook his head. “Sometimes I wonder why I trust you,” he muttered as he began to turn away.
“Oh, one last thing,” Sunset called to him. Her tone became intensely casual. “When we get to Equestria, you will temporarily be transformed into a talking pony too.”
“WHAT?”



“Lyra, thank you for coming,” Sunset said. She looked away and gestured with one hand to the bed in the corner, covered in skins and furs. “Please, sit down.”
Lyra took off her hat. “Okay,” she said, a little warily, as she walked across the room and sat down upon the bed, resting her hat upon her knees. “What’s this about?”
“This… this is about old debts,” Sunset replied. “And about the truth. The truth is that… I owe you an apology.”
Lyra frowned. “Is this about that time you spilled my secrets to the whole school?”
“Yes,” Sunset said simply. “At least, that’s where it starts.”
Lyra snorted. “You called me out here to apologise for that?” she cried. “Seriously?”
“Why is that so wrong?”
“Because it was ages ago?” Lyra suggested. “Because since then, I betrayed… everything and everyone? Because it’s such small potatoes? Seriously, Beacon is destroyed, Professor Ozpin is a reincarnating immortal, there’s a queen of the grimm trying to destroy the world, communications are down… man, a lot happened last year, didn’t it?”
Sunset couldn’t restrain a laugh. “Sometimes, I miss the days when our biggest problems were each other,” she murmured.
“There are days when you don’t miss those days?” Lyra demanded.
Sunset shrugged. “I can’t deny that the idea of this situation doesn’t have an appeal,” she confessed. “Me, leading the fight against evil, Professor Ozpin’s trusted servant, keeper of his confidences, the bulwark of the world against an evil of which the world is ignorant. If the idea had been put to me, I would have embraced it with both hands. It’s just the reality that turned out to be completely awful.”
“Didn’t it just,” Lyra muttered. “Which is kind of my point. So much has happened since then, and so much of it was so much worse than what you did, why bring it up?”
“Because I never admitted it, and I never apologised for it,” Sunset explained. “And I owe you an apology not just because what I did was wrong but, because…” she hesitated, taking a breath before he said, “because you were right.”
Lyra stared up at Sunset. “Come again?”
“You were right,” Sunset repeated. “There is a world out there filled with pastel coloured talking magical ponies. And I know that because… because I’m one of them.”
Lyra’s eyes blinked so rapidly that Sunset thought for a moment that she might be having a seizure. “You… what?”
“I’m one of them,” Sunset repeated. “One of the horses. One of the ponies. I’m a unicorn. Actually, I’m an alicorn now, and I have been for a while; it’s a little complicated-”
“'Complicated'!” Lyra cried. “What are you even talking about? You are obviously not a unicorn.”
“In this world, no,” Sunset admitted. “In my own world, in the world of Equestria, I have another form, and that form is – was – an adorable unicorn. The most adorable unicorn you ever set eyes on.”
“Other form?” Lyra asked weakly.
“When I came from my own world to this world, I changed form; I went from a unicorn to faunus,” Sunset explained. “I’m guessing the magic transformed me so that I would fit in.”
“But Megan Williams wasn’t transformed when she crossed into Equestria,” Lyra pointed out.
“She didn’t say that she was, but maybe she lied about that,” Sunset suggested. “Maybe she thought it would make her look even crazier than she did already.”
Lyra stared at Sunset. “You… you’re serious. This isn’t one last act of screwing with me before you go?”
“Why would I do that?” Sunset demanded.
“I don’t know; why are you telling me that your true form is a magical unicorn?”
“Because I think you’re owed the truth before you never see me again,” Sunset said.
Lyra kept on staring. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because I’ve got no reason to lie,” Sunset said. “Because… because what you’ve thought of as my semblance is not my semblance; it’s Equestrian magic, and if you think about it, that makes a lot more sense that it actually being a semblance does.”
Lyra thought about that. “I must admit, you already had a pretty broken semblance and then when it evolved into letting you cause storms… yeah, that wasn’t really a logical evolution, was it?”
“Because it wasn’t an evolution of my semblance; it was me getting pegasus powers,” Sunset said.
“Pegasus powers,” Lyra repeated.
Sunset nodded. 
Lyra’s mouth moved with no words emerging. She turned her hat around in her hands, turning the brim like the wheel of a car. “So… it’s all real?”
“Equestria is real,” Sunset corrected her. “I don’t know about the alien robots or any other parallel universes.”
“Oh, because a world of magical talking horses is real, but a parallel universe, that’s absurd.”
“I didn’t say it was absurd; I just said that I didn’t know if they existed or not.”
Lyra was silent for a moment. Then she leapt up and cried out, “I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, I KNEW IT! I was right all along, it’s real, no one believed me, but that doesn’t matter, because I WAS RIGHT!” She looked at Sunset. “I wish you’d told Bon Bon this as well; I’m worried she won’t believe it coming from me.”
Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “You’re… taking this rather well.”
“What’s to take badly?” Lyra asked. “I was right. I’m not even mad that you leaked it any more.”
“But… everyone laughed at you.”
“Prophets are never appreciated in their own lifetimes,” Lyra declared airily. “The point is that I was right, and everyone who laughed at me was wrong and stupid, and most of them probably smelled. I was never a crazy girl who needed to grow up; I was right.” She whooped out loud, bounding across the room to grab Sunset by the shoulders and pull her into a hug. “You have to tell me everything: what’s it like, how did you get here, why did you come here, and can I come with you?”
“What?” Sunset exclaimed.
“Come on, it’s obvious that you’re going back.”
“How?” Sunset cried. “How is that obvious?”
“You’ve made no arrangements to get a boat across the ocean, there are no airships this side of the mountains, and you aren’t going to walk across the water,” Lyra explained.
“That doesn’t equate to returning to my magical homeland.”
“I have an intuitive intellect, clearly.”
“I wouldn’t have told you the truth if I’d known it was going to give you a swelled head,” Sunset muttered.
“Can I come with you?” Lyra repeated. “You… you have to let me come with you.”
“I don’t have to let you do anything,” Sunset reminded her firmly.
“Okay, no, you don’t have to have to, but come on,” Lyra whined. “This is… this is something I’ve believed in since I was six years old. This is… this is something that I have kept faith with even when people laughed at me, even when my therapist and my parents thought there was something wrong with me, even when I got arrested by the military for trying to break into that base… I have believed in this. I have carried it in my heart, and now you tell me it’s real? And you have a way to get there? I have to see it. You have to let me see it. Me, and Bon Bon too, if she’ll come with me. I don’t want to get in your way, I don’t want to be a part of your story, but I want to see it. I want to…” She trailed off, and for a moment, Sunset thought she might be done. 
But then she got down on her knees and grabbed Sunset by her knees in supplication. “I know that I will never be a hero. I know that I won’t even be a huntress, and even if I was, I wouldn’t be a very good one but… but if I can see another world, your world, if I can touch it, hear its sounds, smell its smells, taste everything that there is that’s safe to taste, if I can explore this strange and wonderful world you come from… none of that other stuff will matter. I don’t need to be a hero like Megan Williams or even- even like you, but… but I want to see what so few other eyes have seen; is that so terrible?”
“No,” Sunset said softly, looking down on her. “No, it… it’s honestly a better reason than any that I had for coming to your world.” Better, and yet not completely unalike: falling out of the world because they wanted to escape the one they had been born into. The difference was that Lyra had, finally, shed all her dreams of glory and relevance. Sunset hadn’t gotten so far when she crossed over. “Okay. You can come, and Bon Bon too. And you don’t have to leave when we do.”
Lyra’s eyes widened. “Really? You mean it?”
Sunset would have bowed if someone hadn’t been holding her legs. “You have my word.”
Lyra gasped. “Thank you! Thank you, Sunset, oh, thank you so much.”
“Yes, fine, you’re welcome; now will you please let go of my legs?”



Ruby was alone. 
Well, okay, Zwei was there too, but he was sleeping on the floor, and that wasn’t a lot of help to her. 
Even if the reason he was sleeping was that Ruby had no heart to wake him right now. 
Ruby had been offered the crown of Freeport because she was a warrior, a Silver-Eyed Warrior, and so she thought it fitting that, even for her coronation, she should go before the people of Freeport as a warrior. So, from the neck down, over her cream tunic and her tights, she wore an all-encompassing suit of armour which Cinder and she had designed together but which it had fallen to Ember to fashion for her, working the forge night and day to hammer out each peace of shimmering metal to the instructions that had been given to her. 
It was, so she said, her gift to her new queen, and it was a queenly gift indeed. The armour was wrought of steel but gilt in silver, giving it – most of it, at least – a radiant sheen as it reflected the light from every angle. Her cuirass was segmented, like Jaune’s, and it would give her room to move around in battle if she needed it – that was, if she chose to wear the armour into battle; it certainly made her look the part, but she wasn’t sure how well it suited her fighting style. Each segment of the cuirass – in fact, each part of her armour, from her shoulder pauldrons to the vambraces that enclosed her arms to the couters that protected her elbows – was edged with gold – or at least gilded to appear so – in memory of Yang, and about her waist, she wore a yellow sash in memory of Sunsprite Rose, and on the sash, she had fastened the silver rose that was the emblem of herself and of her family. 
Though she was going to be alone out here, though Sunset was going on and… and leaving her behind, as Jaune and Pyrrha had left her behind; she did not want to forget any of them, did not want to forget when she had once been a part of Team SAPR. 
And so, her greaves and cuisses were fashioned explicitly after those that Pyrrha had worn at Beacon, save that they were silver-seeming and not gold, while her cuirass resembled that which Jaune had latterly worn after Mountain Glenn. Her pauldrons alone of all her armour did not have a silver look about it; rather, Ember had so worked the metal as to give it a fiery reddish appearance, like a setting sun as it dips below the horizon out of sight. 
Upon the cuirass and the greaves and upon every part of her armour, Ember had worked patterns of roses, their stems rising in bas-relief as they crawled along the surface of the metal, their stalks and vines and thorns visible only in relief, but the rose petals themselves were worked in rubies, gemstones big and small gleaming and glimmering as they formed the flower patterns. 
Her red cloak hung about her shoulders, and around her waist, beneath the yellow sash, she wore a short black skirt with a red ruffle around the hem, descending down to just below her thighs. 

Only a helmet was missing; she had the helmet that Prince Rutherford had given to her, and it too had been fashioned first by the Summer Fire Clan, but she could hardly wear the crown upon the head while also wearing a horned helmet, and so, her head was bare, for now. 
She had not seen the crown. Ember had worked on that in secret. Ruby would see it first mere moments before it was placed upon her head. 
Ruby regarded herself in the mirror. This was Ruby Rose now: the Queen of Freeport and Estmorland, a figure all clad in armour to defend her kingdom, a figure of shining majesty. 
Someone she didn’t recognise. 
She closed her eyes. 
Jaune, help me to be wise; Pyrrha, give me grace; Sunset, grant me confidence.
The door opened behind her. Ruby turned, her scarlet cape whirling around her, in time to see her father come in. He had not changed his clothes, but looked the same as he always did. Ruby was glad of that; it gave her comfort. 
He smiled down at her. “How are you holding up, kiddo?”
Ruby looked down at the stone floor beneath her. “A little nervous,” she admitted. “Everyone’s going to depend on me, aren’t they?”
“It looks that way,” Taiyang replied. “Your grandpa’s right; you are very brave to go through with this. Not everyone would.”
“I don’t have a choice,” Ruby replied.
“That doesn’t make you any less brave, even if it’s true,” Taiyang said.
Ruby didn’t look up. “Am I going to be okay at this? Is this going to work or… how do I know that I won’t mess this up?”
“You don’t,” Taiyang said candidly. “You just try not to, every day; some days, that won’t help, and you’ll make mistakes, but you learn from that, you remember it, and you don’t make the same mistake again.” He knelt down in front of her and tilted her chin up so that she was looking at him. 
He stared at her for a moment, and for that moment, it looked almost as though he had tears in his eyes. “A huntress,” he said, “is sworn to valour.”
“Dad?”
Taiyang smiled. “Repeat after me, Ruby,” he said. “A huntress is sworn to valour.”
Ruby hesitated, because she knew what those words meant and where they came from. “What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I think that you should become a huntress before you become a queen,” Taiyang declared.
The smile spread across Ruby’s face, threatening to split it in two it was so wide. Her armour creaked and clinked upon the floor as she knelt. “A huntress,” she said, “is sworn to valour.”
“Her heart knows only virtue.”
Ruby closed her eyes, and clasped her armoured hands together over her own heart. “Her heart knows only virtue.”
“Her blade defends the helpless.”
“Her blade defends the helpless,” Ruby murmured.
“Her might upholds the weak.”
“Her might upholds the weak,” Ruby declared.
“Her word speaks only truth.”
“Her word…” Ruby paused, a sudden lump in her throat. “Her word speaks only truth.” It hasn’t been true, I admit, but it will be from now on.
“Her wrath undoes the wicked.”
“Her wrath undoes the wicked!” Ruby said, her voice rising. 
Taiyang smiled. “Now rise a huntress.”
Ruby rose and embraced him in a hug. “Thanks, Dad,” she said. Even if I’m having to give up my dream, at least I got to achieve it, sort of, before then. 
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Ruby took a deep breath. “Yes,” she said. “Yeah, I think I am.”
“Then let’s go,” he said.
The coronation took place not in the Tower of the Sun but in the largest square in Freeport, where a great crowd had gathered in advance of her arrival. The warriors of the Frost Mountain and the Summer Fire Clans mingled with the Rangers and with the ordinary townsfolk of Freeport, although the clansfolk formed the front line of the masses who filled the outer edges of the square, leaving a hollow in the centre and a gap on the eastern side entering the square, through which Ruby entered.
She had no attendants. She had no guards, no one to follow in her train except her father. She was alone, as she would be alone.
She could see some of her companions near the forefront of the crowd: Torchwick and Neo, Lyra and Bon Bon. Of Sunset, there was no sign. 
She… didn’t come?
A light touch of wind brushed against Ruby’s cheek, stroking a few strands of her blood-tipped hair aside. The breeze, the only breath of wind on an otherwise calm day, drew her attention to the left and upwards. Up, to the roof of one of the houses where Sunset stood, perched upon the tiles, with the best view of any one gathered here. 
She was far away, and it was hard to really see her face, but as Sunset waved one hand to her, Ruby thought that she was smiling. 
Ruby smiled back, at Sunset and at Cinder who was sitting on the roof beside her, and her heart lifted a little as she returned her attention to the square itself and to the ceremony which, practiced more than once, was about to unfold for the final time. 
For real this time. 
I can do this. I have to do this. 
She could see Ember and Prince Rutherford waiting for her in the centre of the square, along with the Sun Queen's counsellors Laurel and Cherry. Prince Rutherford held a large, oval-shaped shield in his hands. Ruby already knew why.
Everyone watched her, and as she entered the square, a great silence fell across the crowd as they waited, expectant, for what was to come.
"Friends and allies, people of Freeport, subjects to the throne of Estmorland," Laurel said, her voice carrying across the square. "The Sun Queen is dead." She paused. "Though many calumnies in recent days have poured upon her head, I beg you, friends, think nothing ill of she who was your queen, for she was wise and generous and loved you well, and by her will and unyielding persistence, this city was raised out of nothing to be all that it is today."
At least some of that was highly debatable, but allowing Laurel to say it was a necessary part of the truce that had been patched up between the Sun Queen's associates and those who had, at the last, been her enemies. Laurel and Cherry and whatever else remained of the old regime would not oppose Ruby's accession to power in Freeport and Estmorland, while Ruby would neither punish them for their past actions nor tarnish the reputation of the queen that they had served and loved. Ruby couldn't say how many people would be moved by that little eulogy, but she wouldn't stop Laurel from saying it.
"But the Queen is dead," Laurel continued. "The Queen is dead, and the throne is empty. The Sun Queen would not wish it to remain so, would not wish all that we have worked and striven for these past years to come to nothing. She would not wish Freeport to die. We must have a new queen, or king, to sit upon the throne. Friends and subjects, as you chose the Sun Queen to be your sovereign, as you submitted to her will and law, so you must once again choose who will sit upon the throne of Freeport and have dominion over Estmorland." Now, and only now, did she look at Ruby. "Who comes to claim the throne of Freeport?"
Ruby took another step forward. "I do," she said, and although they had gone over this half a dozen times, her voice trembled regardless. "R-Ruby Rose."
"Why should Ruby Rose rule Freeport?" Prince Rutherford demanded.
"Why should we have you for our queen?" asked Prince Ember.
Ruby swallowed. "Because I have defended this city against the grimm," she said, her voice ringing out across the square. "Because I am a Silver-Eyed Warrior, blessed with the powers of light itself, and the darkness flees from me. Because I am a great warrior, and my scythe is swift as thought. Because I have friends in the kingdoms of Atlas and Mistral who will give us aid against our common enemy. And because I promise that I will not rule you as a tyrant, but keep the peace between the clans and the peoples so that friendship may flourish across this whole land."
Laurel looked down, and it took her a moment to say, "Friends, subjects, people of Freeport and Estmorland, what say you to Ruby Rose?"
Prince Rutherford was the first to kneel, and as he knelt, he laid the shield he bore flat upon the ground, gripping it by the rim. Ember knelt too, and took the rim of the shield upon the other side.
"Hail Ruby Rose, Queen of Estmorland," Ember said.
"Hail, Ruby Queen," Prince Rutherford said.
Ruby walked forwards. Her steps seemed louder in the silence; they almost echoed in her ears as she advanced, with the eyes of all upon her.
She tried not to seem too tentative or too hesitant as she stepped onto the shield.
Ruby flung her arms out on either side of her for balance as she was hoisted up into the air, the shield on which she stood raised up by Ember and Prince Rutherford above their heads – above Ember's head, anyway – while the warriors of the clans banged spearbutts upon the ground, banged axes upon their shield, and the whole crowd took up the call, "Ruby Queen! Ruby Queen! Ruby Queen!"
"Long live Queen Ruby! Long live the Grimmbane!"
"The Queen of Roses!"
"The Queen with the Silver Eyes!"
So simply was it done. More than the moment when the crown was placed upon her head, now, she was queen. The Queen of Roses, the Queen of Freeport, the queen of all the lands east of the mountains.
It was the last thing she wanted.
It was the only thing that she would ever be.
It was the thing to which she would commit her life.
She would not fail these people who cheered for her, these people who put their trust in her. She would not fail, no matter the cost.



The wine flowed, and the dining hall was filled to the rafters with the sounds of laughter, chatter, and song – some of it rather better than others. 
In one corner of the hall, someone was playing a yovidaphone, the drawn out sounds echoing off the stone walls. 
Ruby sat at the very head of the table. They had placed a golden crown upon her head, an ornate crown fashioned like a garland of roses, each flower opened to receive the blessing of the sun. 
Sunset stood in the doorway, observing the feast without being a part of it, watching as the clansfolk and the people of Freeport dined on roast duck and wild boar and all other ‘delicacies’ that she did not care for but which they seemed quite mad for here. 
Her eyes were fixed on Ruby, taking her in, drinking in her appearance, in her armour and her crown, in all the roses with which she was adorned. 
She wanted to take her in, because she didn’t know how long it would be before she saw her again. 
Sunset would not go into the feast. This was the Queen’s time; there was no place for her there. 
It was the end of an era and the beginning of a new one, a new age that had neither place nor need for the creatures of the old. 
But we had a good run together, you and I, didn’t we?
She could not stay. She could not linger here, she could not venture in to join the feast, for all that this was their parting for who knew how long. Though this was her last chance to say goodbye, she knew that if she ventured in… if she tried to say what was in her heart… that heart would break. 
It was almost broken now. 
She turned away, unseen, unspeaking, and her ears drooped and her tail trailed after her as she stalked from hall and tower both. 
Cinder and Cardin were waiting for her outside, with Lyra and Bon Bon, and Robyn Hill too, the latter bouncing impatiently upon the balls of her feet. For that matter, Lyra looked pretty impatient herself.
“Are you ready to leave?” Cinder asked, her voice as gentle as the breeze which Sunset had conjured to kiss Ruby’s cheek, and draw her eye, in the square that day. 
“Yes,” Sunset said. “Yes, I’m ready now.”
“If you’d rather stay,” Robyn murmured, “I can wait a little longer.”
“No,” Sunset said quickly. “It’s… it’s fine. Let’s-”
“Go?” Ruby said. “Without saying goodbye?”
Sunset stood still, silent, frozen for a moment before she allowed herself to turn around. “It’s not fair that you can move so silently in that armour,” she said.
“I turn into a bunch of rose petals,” Ruby replied. “So am I really wearing armour?”
Sunset snorted. She looked down at her feet. “I… I thought it was best if-”
“If you just walked away?” Ruby demanded. “Like it didn’t mean anything?”
“'Like it didn’t mean anything'?” Sunset repeated. “No, I… I had to walk away because it means too much.”
Ruby stared at her. “Sunset,” she whispered. “You… you’re a real idiot sometimes, you know that?”
Sunset blinked. “Come again?”
Ruby held out her hands. “Come inside,” she said. “Eat with me. Drink with me. One last time. I… I command it! I’m the queen; I can give you orders now!”
Sunset chuckled, although it ended up coming out like a bit of a wheeze. “Ruby-”
“I’m sad too, but you don’t see me acting like a big baby about it!” Ruby said with a slight pout.
“I am not a baby,” Sunset snapped. “I am a tortured Romantic!” 
“Isn’t that the same thing?” Cardin asked.
“No, it is not!” Sunset declared loudly. She paused. “But… how can I refuse a command from the new queen of Freeport?”
A smile began to blossom upon Ruby’s face. “You mean-?”
“I mean,” Sunset said, kneeling down before her so that they were of a height, “that you don’t need to be sad. This… this is your day of glory. The Queen of Roses cometh, behold, behold,” she smiled. “This will be a day that will live in history.”
“That was your dream, Sunset; I never cared about that stuff.”
“No,” Sunset murmured. “No, you didn’t. But like you said, this- this is my dream, so I expect you to take good care of it. You wouldn’t want to insult me by taking my life’s ambition lightly, would you?”
Ruby shook her head. “I’ll be the best queen that there has ever been, in your honour.”
“Better work hard, then; you’ve got some stiff competition,” Sunset replied. “Things end,” she said. “Everything ends, and it’s always sad. But something new always starts in its place, and that’s always happy. So be happy. And I’ll take care of everything else.” She reached out and placed one hand on Ruby’s cheek. “I will not forget one moment of this,” she vowed. “Not one word.”
“Me neither,” Ruby agreed. “Not one word.”
Sunset smiled with her mouth closed. “So… are their vegetarian options at this royal banquet?”
Ruby giggled. “I’m sure I can find you something. Or order someone to find you something; that’s how this works now, isn’t it?”
“Pretty much,” Sunset agreed. “Your Majesty.”
She rose and walked with Ruby, side by side, back into the banquet hall. 
Equestria was waiting, and Atlas and Anima and Professor Ozpin and her promise to Amber… and her separation from Ruby. All of it was waiting, all of it calling to her, all of it looping its chains to drag her away from Freeport and her first and greatest friend. 
But not yet. Not tonight. 
Not yet.