The destruction of the Crystal Castle was as beautiful to behold as it was terrible to witness.
All around, radiating out from the spire of the castle like the threads of a spider web, the main avenues of the Crystal Empire kept its citizens tied to its royalty. Every day, the crystal ponies walked to and from work, selling, serving, and supplying. Goods, such as the crystalline berries and silver-based snow globes of the tourist trade. Feeding their fellows. Upholding the upholstery. Carving the architecture.
Against all this, the gnomon to the empire’s sundial, the Crystal Castle towered. Daylight flowed all around the spire, sparkling, but under that sunlight a slit of shadow scraped over the rooftops. Ignored.
And then it happened.
From every arched window and brilliant balcony, a beam of light. The spire became a lighthouse, but one overdone and twisted, shining multiple random beams from everywhere to everywhere. A blink, a flash, a moment of uncertainty. A cracking. A whoosh of inrushing wind.
When it came, the explosion was pure and white.
Fragments of the Crystal Castle drifted and spun, reflecting the edge of clean flame as crisply as shards of glass amid a phosphorus bonfire. Boulders of broken wall were the cosmic creation of comets, blocks of ice fused from gravitas and all that mattered… shattered. Some pieces rained down on the houses around the empire, inviting them – royal to commoner – in the great and noble art of catastrophic collapse.
Unheard screams, panicked voices, the death blasts of castle ruins impacting the ground: all overruled – trivial, and bleak – by the single strangled cry of the explosion, as of a child planet mourning its casual murder by the parent sun.
Among the crystal ponies of the streets, Carnelian’s mouth fell open. Her body froze in horror. Tears burned her cheeks, and those of her neighbours.
Gradually, the light faded. The Crystal Empire returned to a new normal. Houses surrounded a hole. The Crystal Castle was no more.
And deep in the crater left behind, a tiny voice spoke: “Goo goo, heh heh, ha ha…”
That was all years ago, of course. But simple acts lead to expanding complications.
Some explosions last a second; others last a lifetime…
“Class Photo Day! Class Photo Day! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”
That was the filly Flurry Heart, popping in and out of existence over the pile of blankets that passed for her aunt’s bed these days. A final flash, and Flurry Heart was gone.
From beneath the covers, Princess Twilight Sparkle groaned. Tell anyone else to let her sleep after three days of work, and they’d cheerfully keep away. Tell Flurry Heart, and she’d cheerfully agree, then forget about it two minutes later.
The bed covers glowed, sparkled, and under her magical influence finally lifted themselves off. Twilight dared not look at herself in the mirror. Years of creating spells, casting down evil sorcerers, outwitting political enemies, and she still hadn’t solved the problem of bedheads.
Another flash, a yelp from Twilight.
“Class Photo Day! Class Photo Day!”
“Love you too, Flurry,” moaned Twilight, raising her smile from the dead. The yawn broke through the grave. “Go downstairs, there’s a good girl.”
“Love you, Auntie!” A flash: Flurry Heart was gone.
Well, the little tyke was improving: last time she’d tried teleporting into Twilight’s bed chamber, half the wall collapsed.
Twilight struggled to her hooves. She passed the display of photos: some showed her grinning with her friends from Ponyville, others showed her smiling politely alongside nobles and diplomats, world leaders in crowns and suits. Her private bookshelf stood dutifully on guard, mostly dusty. The desk opposite: piled high with scrolls and reference books used as bookmarks for other reference books.
Above it, the map of the world suffocated under all the pins and coloured threads, sticky memos, and sparkling hues of the many spells she’d cast to keep the political boundaries meaningful. This morning, she skimmed a few notes and rearranged pins, threads, and spells.
“Griffon Kingdom,” she muttered, yawning. “Dragon Lands…”
Another land dispute, another history lesson, another conference, another round of trying to keep everyone on speaking terms in the delicate balancing act of international politics –
There was a yell from downstairs.
Please no, thought Twilight.
She closed her eyes and focused on the spell. In a flash, the world around her shifted, momentarily weightless and free. Then gravity and air resistance clamped her back down. She opened her eyes again.
This was another room in her castle. Her breakfast chamber. Well, technically the map room with the seven thrones in attendance, but Twilight’s stomach rumbled its protest in no uncertain terms.
Over the map, Flurry Heart flapped her wings and levitated herself with her own unicorn magic. She never seemed happy doing just one thing. Beside her, the camera floated.
“Come on, come on! It’s photographing day!”
“All right, all right. I’m up, I’m up.”
“Now, now, now, now, now!”
“What do we say, Flurry?”
An agonizing pause, then: “Pleeeaaassseee?”
“Good girl.”
“All right!” Flurry didn’t even wait. At once, she turned two of the thrones around and sat down on the smaller, then patted the larger, while giving Twilight a keen grin.
Twilight hoped the bedhead wasn’t too bad. She sat down. Flurry immediately pecked her on the cheek, though she almost headbutted Twilight with the effort.
“OK, OK, OK, OK…” Tongue sticking out, Flurry aimed the camera at them both. With the other thrones and the map acting as a backdrop, it was going to be an impressive picture.
Twilight and Flurry. Just the two of them.
“Say Cheery Breezie!”
“Cheery Breezie!” crooned Twilight, chortling behind the yawn-of-a-voice.
FLASH!
Instantly, Flurry’s spell smashed the camera to pieces and tore the single photo out to inspect it. “There we go! Now I got a class photo too, just like everypony else.”
She showed it to Twilight, who had to push it away from her eyes first to prevent her blinking it off accidentally. Not a bad one of her, even with the bedhead and weak smile.
Glancingly, she noticed the shards of camera on the floor. Flurry was at least getting better at self-control. Last time she’d come up with a hare-brained idea, Twilight had woken up to find a family of startled grizzly bears in the entrance hall and Flurry waving around a basket, shrieking, “PICNIC DAY! PICNIC DAY!”
“That’s lovely, Flurry,” said Twilight, lazily serving herself a pancake from the tray. Good old Spike: he’d been busy this morning, as ever.
“I know. So what are we doing today? Hospital visit? Market day shopping spree? Ooh, ooh, can we watch the Wonderbolt Derby this year? I know who’s going to win already!”
Twilight paused, pancake chunk halfway to her mouth. “Er… you do?”
“Yeah, I’ve been practising my prophecy spell. Watch!” Instantly, Flurry’s horn glowed white. Her eyes likewise. “She will rise from the land of ice: one pegasus, one unicorn, one earth, one flesh. Her destiny: the crystal spire. Her subjects: the world. She shall unite all under her glorious reign…”
Then the light abruptly cut out.
“Woo, that was new!” Flurry jumped about excitedly, phasing through the table as casually as if it was a hologram. “Ooh, ooh, I’ve been reading your friendship journal too! I made improvements! Look!”
“Improvem–?” Out of nowhere, the book hit Twilight in the face and bounced off. Pages flicked by at papercut speed.
A hoof patted the page in question. “See? I added a rainbow!”
“That’s very… creative.”
“Uh huh. Rarity says you’re supposed to add flair and style to everything you do. That makes it ten times better. And Rainbow’s got all sorts of flair and style, and Fluttershy agreed with me, and Pinkie gave me the cake frosting, so I thought, well, rainbows!”
Gingerly, Twilight sniffed the illustration. Yep, definitely Pinkie’s contribution.
“Very creative indeed,” she said with a giggle.
Poof! The book was gone. Flurry hovered overhead, upside down.
“So I was thinking… could we have a day for Best Auntie Ever Time again? Please, please, pretty pleeeaaassseee…?”
All too easily, Twilight’s giggle collapsed into a sigh. Every day, Flurry Heart asked the question, and every day, Twilight had to disappoint her Best Niece Ever. She distracted herself by adding more blueberries and cream to the pancake pile already in front of her.
“Well…”
Flurry immediately froze mid-flight.
“I’m sure I could fit in an hour and a half this evening – two if the Griffon-Dragon Summit ends early.”
“Oh,” said Flurry Heart.
“OK,” said Flurry Heart.
“Right,” said Flurry Heart.
And there. Those were the three worst words she could say to Twilight.
It was like that every time. Twilight swore they used to have more time together, but these days, that time seemed to hide in the always-running tomorrow. She swore she’d get there someday.
“Maybe you could spend time with Applejack this week? I’m sure she’d love to show you how to make cider. Without magic, I mean.” Gently, Twilight reached over and patted her on the cheek. “Aw, don’t worry about the quantity of time, remember? It’s about the quality. Haha, I’ll bet Granny Smith says that when you visit!”
Moodily, Flurry Heart said nothing, which was the worst thing of all. The life sparked out of her. She simply sat down on the little throne and chewed at a corner of pancake.
To cover her own confusion, Twilight picked up the pieces of the camera. At least that was routine: two weeks ago, on a Pinkie Pie Babysitting Bonanza, Flurry had left the royal kitchen in a state of nuclear cookie dough.
She tried, bless her. She leaped on anything and everything new. Twilight had never met such a voracious student, and in some ways such a gifted one. Once she learned the art of cleaning up after herself, she’d be unstoppable…
Only when the last piece of plastic snapped into place did Twilight notice the label.
She showed it to Flurry.
“What,” she said calmly, “is this?”
Flurry glanced up, then nibbled at her pancake some more. “Name label.”
“I can see that. Why is this name on it?”
Still, Flurry busied herself with the pancake, surfacing only to say, “I borrowed it.”
Twilight sagged. Oh no, she thought, please, please no…
“Flurry Heart, did you steal this camera?”
“No!” Flurry shot up a bit too quickly. She flapped her wings hard. Twilight knew what that meant.
“Then did you ask before you ‘borrowed’ it? Remember the friendship journal. Be honest.”
“I wanted it for the photo shoot! Anyway, Sweetie Belle said Featherweight had all the best cameras in Ponyville, because of his hobby! And you said I shouldn’t use magic to take pictures! It’s safer!”
In theory, it had been safer. Twilight hated doing this. She had to pinch her own muzzle and take a slow breath before proceeding. The true depths of Flurry’s actions were never straightforward.
“And what did Featherweight say about this?” she asked as politely as possible.
Flurry shrugged, looking nervous. “He didn’t say anything about it.”
“And he did that because…?”
“Because… I…”
“Yes?”
Flurry squirmed; she was already breathing faster and faster. “Because I sorta maybe kinda a little bit gagged him and tied him up so he wouldn’t shout at me in his room, maybe?”
“Flurry Heart!”
Even as she spoke, Twilight knew she’d stomped too hard. With a squeal, Flurry curled up under her wings, gasping for struggling breaths, and a golden bubble shielded her on sheer magical instinct.
“I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it, don’t hate me, don’t hate me…”
And that was another thing Twilight had to handle. All too often.
As well as she could, she wrapped a comforting wing and a strong forelimb around the smooth golden bubble. Flurry wouldn’t feel it, but if she peeped out, she’d recognize the signs.
“You’re not a bad pony,” Twilight said, remembering Fluttershy’s words, “you just made a bad decision. That’s all. We’ve all been there, Flurry Heart. Believe me.”
It took some soothing and softening before the curled-up wings unfurled. Flurry’s eye shone among the feathers.
She uncurled. Twilight’s forelimb touched and then merged gently with her niece’s shoulders. Wings blundered and tangled with wings, until something like a stiff hug squeezed some life back into the little alicorn. Then Flurry gasped away her fears.
Twilight watched her every second. Nerves jangled inside her. One of the days, her niece wouldn’t uncurl at all.
“Good girl.” To be sure, she planted a gentle kiss on Flurry’s forehead, just next to her horn. “Now, why don’t I take the camera back later and we’ll say no more about it, OK?”
“OK,” whispered a nervous voice from the bottom of Flurry Heart’s hooves.
And that was it. For the morning. Always a lesson to learn, Twilight thought bravely. Every single day.
Flurry Heart learned her lesson all right. Next time, she kept the camera hidden in her room.
When she came back the next evening to find bedside things rearranged – Spike had cleaned her room again – she hastily took the camera out of its hiding box and vanished it into another dimension. No one would ever stumble across it there. No one would get mad. No one would think she was a “bad girl”.
Summer, autumn, winter, spring… they meant little to the Crystal Empire.
Every year, the spokes of power radiated outward like the constant rays of the sun, whether eclipsed or free. The web wove without its spider as queen. Little lives shuttled back and forth, regardless of the missing shadow.
Yet in the heart of the Crystal Empire, the crystal ponies concentrated.
Over dozens of months, chunk by chunk, the spire grew back over the old scar. Liquidized crystal filled in the crater like a campaign of denial. Slowly but surely, the pride of the empire rose again.
Workers climbed on steps wheeled into position. Faceted saddles hauled chunks of ice – or something like it – up to the jagged edges. Sparkling hooves smoothed and patted the pieces into place, until no hairline cracks could be seen. Old imperfections, consigned to history by the will to forget.
Overlooking all from the nearby hill of snow, Princess Twilight Sparkle – bags accumulating under her eyes – saw all. Beside her, Chancellor Carnelian said nothing. Showed nothing on her face. Was basically nothing, for all the notice anyone gave her.
Only Twilight spoke: “We can supply more stallions from the Royal Guard.”
Carnelian grunted.
“The security of the Crystal Empire is paramount,” continued Twilight. “There are still too many enemies abroad. We’ve been lucky so far, but maybe the crystal ponies will sleep better with more guards around?”
Carnelian grunted. Twilight gave her a sidelong look.
“And Captain Flash Sentry has personally offered to come and supervise the empire himself. His offer still stands.”
Carnelian’s eyes narrowed. Her mouth just grunted.
“Look, I know things won’t be the same again,” added Twilight desperately, “but this is the best I can do. If I can help in any way, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Carnelian grunted. Words seemed loathe to leave her lips. For the first time, Twilight wondered if she was accidentally rubbing salt in the wound. Crystal ponies had got on as well as they could without skipping an economic beat, but…
All she could do was bow. “Equestria will be in touch.”
Carnelian grunted.
Twilight strode downhill, away from the empire, and closer to the plains of snow. Down below, the teenaged hulk of purple scales stirred. A massive head rose to meet hers.
“Another year, I think, Spike,” she said. “Then the empire will be ready for her.”
A rumble: Spike the Dragon was guffawing. “Sure, sure. Now all we need is for her to be ready for it.”
Twilight winced. “Don’t, Spike.”
“Sorry. You know it’s true, though.”
“Time to go, Spike.”
Secretly, she thanked him over and over. Ponies struggled to disagree to her face; non-ponies were ready to pick fights over nothing. But there was Spike, her Number One Assistant, neither a sycophant nor a bully.
She climbed onto his back, too tired to argue. Gentle as a blimp, Spike rose from the ground and eased his way into the wind, wings cracking against the struggle for height…
That evening, his wings flapped calmly and then settled down. In his corner of the teaching chamber – another repurposed room of the castle – Spike slept on. Or appeared to: Twilight saw his ear twitch once too often to be fooled.
She pressed on anyway: her pointer rapped against the wall. “Despite its name, the Crystal Empire has actually spent most of its history as a kingdom. The unicorn kings took over from the crystal pony emperors as a way to help the crystal ponies align with the values and structures of Equestria. However, crystal ponies are a proud species and have always kept their most sacred traditions and rituals to themselves. Even Princess Celestia never learned all their secrets…”
A thud. Twilight sighed.
“DOUBLE-WHAMMY!” shrieked Flurry Heart. She raised her toy cockatrice and slammed it on the playing board. Some of the pieces scattered, fell over.
Twilight’s spell vanished the whole lot, leaving pure desk.
“Flurry Heart, please,” she said, ignoring Flurry’s tired groan. “You’re officially a princess now.”
“I’ve always been a princess!”
“The Crystal Princess. And as Crystal Princess –”
“Ooh, ooh!” Flurry’s hoof waved in the air. “Can we see that new Pinkie Pie Art Gallery in Sugar Cube Corner!? I heard she baked the ‘Moaning Leader’ painting into a quintuple-layer cake.”
“As Crystal Princess, you need to understand the political and international history of the empire you’ll be taking responsibility f–”
“Ruling over,” corrected Flurry smugly.
“Taking responsibility for.”
Spike mumbled something which sounded suspiciously like: “She’s not wrong.”
“Thank you, Spike, but if she’s going to properly represent the Crystal Empire…”
“Can we pleeeaaassseee go?” Flurry’s eyes glimmered with tears. “Pleeeaaassseee? Pinkie eats them if you don’t get there in time.”
Never again, Twilight thought. And she thought that every time. And she broke her own heart doing so.
“Maybe after the lesson,” she suggested weakly. In his corner, Spike chuckled: the crystal around him hummed briefly in harmonic sympathy.
“It’s not my fault,” whined Flurry, ears drooping. “I’m trying my best, honest. It’s just… history’s so hard!”
“Well, if you don’t like lectures, maybe we could try the flashcard method?”
“Noooooo…”
Twilight rummaged through her own brain for options. “How about a deal? If we get through this lesson, I’ll make your favourite dinner? Peas and mashed potato. Sound good?”
Slumped over her desk, Flurry poked an eye out from under her crumpled wings. “And Pinkie Art?”
“And Pinkie Art. OK?”
“Oh yeah, that’ll work,” grumbled Spike, rolling his bulk over and scratching his scaly stomach. “Just cave in, why don’t you?”
“Spike! Please! Flexibility is essential for good teaching methods teaching methods teaching methods teaching methods –”
Twilight stopped sparkling when Spike’s tail lazily eased up and over, to stop Flurry’s horn with a flick of the tip. Flurry’s giggling and magic died away at once.
“FLURRY!” snapped Twilight. “What have I told you about using that ‘repeat repeat repeat’ spell?”
Flurry rubbed her horn and hunkered down, wings poised to curl up. “S-sorry, Auntie. Joke?”
“Huh.” In his corner, Spike snorted and then yawned, revealing rows of fangs. He didn’t speak for the rest of the lesson.
When Flurry flashed out of the room, however, Twilight sidled over to him, rubbing her face as if to dislodge the bags under her eyes. “I don’t understand it, Spike. She used to love learning from her Best Auntie Ever.”
“Mm.”
“What’s gotten into her?”
“She’s growing up.”
“Yeah, but still…”
Careful as a crane closing in on a shack, Spike raised his head and nudged Twilight’s muzzle with his own. “Relax, Twilight. It’s not your fault. You know what they say: you can take a horse to water, but you can’t make her drink.”
“I know, I know. But she’s no ordinary horse – I mean, pony. If she’d just drink once in a while…”
“You can’t make her drink,” repeated Spike warningly.
And Twilight said nothing. Fuss and plan and drive herself crazy though she would, and had, she couldn’t make a horse drink water. She couldn’t do it. She shouldn’t. And that was all there was to it.
Years passed. Seasons rose and fell like empires through the ages before the final piece of the crystal spire – the tip – was planted. A victor’s flag at the peak of the Crystal Castle. The new Crystal Castle.
The empire cheered, for its rightful heir was now due.
Once more, the empire cheered, fell silent, watched the sun descend to the horizon. The grand doors slammed shut. At sundown, became the Crystal Kingdom.
In the Crystal Castle, in the throne room, Chancellor Carnelian nodded for the grand doors to open. Around her, the fanfare began. The royal procession came down the red carpet. Dignitaries and world leaders looked up expectantly.
“Announcing!” called Carnelian dutifully. “Her Highness! Behold! The Crystal Princess of the Crystal Kingdom! She is our –”
“HELLO, CRYSTAL PONIES, I LOVE YOU ALL!” Princess Flurry Heart swept into the room, her finest Rarity-made dress pouring out over the floor, and the spluttering Carnelian vanished beneath cheers and chants of praise. Confetti rained down from pegasi. Earth ponies stamped. Unicorns lit their horns in tribute.
The dress glittered with a hundred gemstones. The mane had been piled high with enough stylish plaits and twines for a roomful of glamour models. The rouge on her cheeks and the darkness around her eyes caught the shadows and shone ripe in the light. Princess Flurry Heart had bloomed under Rarity’s keen eye.
Outside, the sun vanished into the void. The Crystal Coronation had begun.
Beaming, her heart a-flutter, surrounded by joyous voices, Princess Flurry Heart’s elegant legs strode to the throne. She turned, levitating her train effortlessly, and winked.
By the throne, Princess Twilight Sparkle winked back. She peered over the assembly, who held their breaths. A hush rippled out from her expectant face and wiped the air clean of impure sounds.
She took a deep breath. She glanced at Flurry Heart, whose breathing was short and sharp.
Princess Twilight Sparkle began her speech:
“We are gathered here today in celebration of a momentous occasion! The daughter of loving Princess Cadence, of brave Prince Shining Armor, and my exceptional niece –”
Flurry Heart wiped a tear from her eye.
“– was born an extraordinary soul with an extraordinary destiny. Her talent is undeniable, the strength of her passion clear. But today, she has truly fulfilled that destiny, for she is no longer my ward and student. Today, she proves beyond all doubt that she is to be the light of the Crystal Kingdom, and ready to shine across all of Equestria, to usher in a new age of hope and love. Fillies and gentlecolts – noble creatures of all nations – may I present, for the very first time… Princess Flurry Heart!”
Behind the throne, Spike reared up and roared. A jet of emerald flames cast stretched shadows from Flurry’s flared wings and raised horn. Against the glittering fire, the descending crown clicked into place.
Flurry couldn’t stand it. Even as the applause broke out, she turned away to hide her face.
Ready as ever, Twilight surreptitiously offered her handkerchief.
Fireworks exploded, at war with the night. Stars vanished behind streaks of burning colours. The equal Princesses Twilight and Flurry strode out onto the balcony, over the sea of waving crystal bodies and the storm of cries and whoops.
Far below, at the foot of the Crystal Castle, a statue of a dragon stood to one side of the avenue. On the other, a massive cloth was pulled aside. Crystal sparkled. Tall and proud, the second statue beamed down forever upon her new subjects.
Flurry’s hoof leaped to her mouth, and she tugged at Twilight’s shoulder. “That’s me! That’s me! Look, look, that’s a statue of meeee!”
Overhead, Spike’s fangs grinned. “Not as cool as mine,” he rumbled.
“THIS IS THE BEST CORONATION EVER!”
“No…” began Twilight smugly.
For a moment, the air soared, ripped, and screamed. Then a streak rushed past, a pegasus burst the sound barrier, and then…
BOOM!
A circle of rainbow shockwaves swept aside all stars and fireworks in professional contempt. Far to the south, the contrail of Captain Rainbow Dash – leader of the Wonderbolts – stuttered and sparked with lightning along all seven hues.
Twilight finished, “…now it’s the best coronation ever.”
Flurry dissolved into wails and sobs, jumping up and down on the spot. Behind Twilight, a few familiar figures gathered, giggling. Twilight turned to them, in case the sight of Flurry being overwhelmed… overwhelmed her too.
“Heh,” said Applejack, stepping forwards. “Got some liquid pride in your eye?”
“It’s nothing…” Twilight wiped her cheeks hurriedly. “Thank you so much. Thank you for all your help. I never would’ve done this without –”
Applejack’s hooves patted her shoulders down. “Business as usual, Twi? You know the drill by now.”
“Speech! Speech!” chanted Pinkie Pie behind her, dress bouncing along.
Nodding, Twilight hurried back to Flurry. A quick but calming spell stopped the overflow.
“Speech,” she whispered.
Flurry hiccupped. “Wh-what? Oh, sorry.”
“Just like we rehearsed.”
“Oh, right.”
Another quick spell, this time by Flurry. Her throat glowed briefly. Her “Ahem!”, when it came, rattled the crystal walls, echoed around the streets of the Crystal Kingdom, stunned the riot of subjects to silence.
“Ahem,” Flurry boomed again out of sheer nerves. “It feels like only yesterday when I left to… to train with my auntie – I mean, my teacher – at her castle. To learn how to be a good princess. I didn’t know, back then, what my destiny was going to be, and I wasn’t ready for it at all. But she believed in me, every day, in every way. And now, on the most wonderful day, when I get to see all of you here with me, I can honestly say I’m proud that this is my true destiny. Finally, I know, looking out at you all, that I am the luckiest pony in the world. Thank you all! Thank you all, my friends!”
Even over the cry of the crowd, Pinkie’s whining waterfall of tears was hard to ignore. Her friends crowded around her at once, cooing and murmuring in sympathy, Twilight included. Flurry turned to beam at them, and leaped on top. Yelps and laughter greeted her.
Somewhere behind, deep in the shadows, Carnelian’s ears fell. Her head hung heavy. She gave a sigh and turned away as if she could stand no more.
Twilight and Flurry were together from the balcony to the feasting hall, from the throne room to the pony plaza, and from the walk among the delegates to the winding down of the crystal curtains. Moonlight glowed around the edges, punctuated by orange flashes from outside.
“Aw,” cooed Flurry from her four-poster bed. “I wanted to watch Fluttershy’s dancing phoenixes.”
“I think you’ve had enough excitement for one day,” said Twilight, neatly pulling the quilt up to her favourite niece’s hooves and chin. “Was it everything you hoped for?”
“Oh, better than better! Thank you so much for everything! You really are the Best Auntie Ever!”
Chuckling, Twilight seated herself on the edge of the bed. She held the smile for as long as she could, but the weight of her burdens sapped her dry. Her gaze fell to her knees, only slightly poking through the layers of Rarity’s silk and ribbon.
Then: “RRRRAAAARGH!”
Twilight jumped. Then froze.
Flurry lowered her wings and the blanket, rolling back with laughter. “Gotcha back, Auntie! Who’s the scary bear now, huh?”
“None scarier,” said Twilight weakly.
She looked away again.
It took her a while to speak. Flurry fidgeted trying to lie comfortably on her wings.
Suddenly, Twilight looked up, met her eye. “Flurry Heart. You’ve grown up so much in such a short time. It feels like only yesterday when I… I wanted to… Flurry Heart, please remember: you’re a princess now, but you’re not alone. I just want you to know that I’m –”
“I wish Mom and Dad were here,” said Flurry.
Their eyes met. Eventually, Twilight’s spell reached across and levitated her handkerchief, the better to wipe Flurry’s eyes.
Twilight put it down at once, as though embarrassed. “They’d be proud of you.”
Flurry made as if to hide her face under the quilt, but apparently thought better of it. Pain twisted around her relentless pooling eyes.
Smiling with her lips only, Twilight opened the curtains without getting up. Orange lights danced across the bed chamber floor in swooping wipes and flexing tissues of passion. Both princesses admired the whirl and spiral of the phoenixes.
“You’re a wonderful mare, Flurry Heart,” whispered Twilight. “Have no fear. I believe you are destined to do great things.”
“You really mean that?” Flurry yawned, jaw straining, and sank deeper into the bedding.
For the last time in her life, Twilight kissed her little niece on the forehead. She also took off the crown: Flurry hadn’t realized she didn’t need to wear it all the time.
Patiently, Twilight watched as Flurry’s safely settling eyes surrendered to dreams.
“Yes. You’ll see. Everything is going to be just fine.”