The Moon, the Stars, and Us
Cinder stood in front of Sunset’s door. The brown wooden door with its brass door handles stared back at her.
Sunset was waiting inside. Waiting with no… actually, she hopefully had some idea, after all that they’d been through together, or Cinder really was screwed, but she had no idea that Cinder was waiting just outside the door, about to come in and, well…
I have put this off too long. We both have. That was what was making it so hard. If she had said something sooner, if she had made a move earlier, if she hadn’t… if she hadn’t been secretly evil and lying to Sunset the whole time, but even after that, if she’d been honest with herself about her feelings when they had her a prisoner in the Vault, if she’d been honest after Sunset had saved her, then this would have been so much easier.
I should have rewarded my saviour with a kiss that night; I should have taken her right there in the courtyard and dazzled Jaune and Pyrrha with my audacity. I should have been bold, as I have always been bold; I should have been true to myself, as I have always been true to myself; I should have dared all, as I have always risked everything to get what I desire.
But in that moment of weakness… I had surrendered my powers to Sunset; I did not have it in me to surrender my heart also.
She was so much more powerful than I was, then. I could not bring myself to… to make myself so vulnerable before her.
And so, I sat upon my heart, both making it obvious what that heart desired while at the same time fearing to speak plainly on the matter, and simultaneously with both of those, growing despondent when Sunset made no move of her own.
This ought to have been easy. Ever since she and Sunset met, there had been something between them: a spark, an energy, something that Cinder felt with no others. She had gone to that party intending to size up Pyrrha Nikos, her hated rival; instead, she had swiftly concluded that Pyrrha was as insipid as milk and spent the rest of the evening getting to know her far more engaging team leader.
This ought to have been easy, as it had – it seemed – been very easy for Princess Celestia to name herself at last as Sunset’s mother, to be called such and to call Sunset 'daughter' in turn. As Sunset had described, it had all been rather matter of fact in the end, for all the dancing around the topic beforehand, for all the lack of talk of it in their conversations previously. It was how the princess felt. It was how Sunset felt. It was how Princess Twilight Sparkle felt. Why treat as revelation what was obvious? Cinder had joked about Sunset taking her to meet her mother – all those jokes and flirtatious banter now also seemed a mistake to Cinder; if Sunset had taken them for mere jests and not understood that the humour sat like vinaigrette upon a bed of real feeling, then it might be hard to convince her that her feelings were true – and tonight, after dinner, she had felt as though she were being sized up by that same mother as a potential partner. Princess Celestia had raised her, and it was clear from the way that Sunset talked of the princess what love and affection was there, on Sunset’s part at least, and one did not need to look closely or be a keen observer of humanity – or ponies – to discern it in Princess Celestia’s interactions with her.
So it was, Cinder thought, with her and Sunset. They were not Jaune and Pyrrha – although she might be in danger of turning into Pyrrha Nikos if she didn’t get this done and speak her truth, and wouldn’t that be ironic? – their feelings, their connection, could it be doubted? Could it come as a surprise?
With good fortune, this too would engender that same ‘but of course’ reaction as Princess Celestia’s maternal declaration: a confirmation of what had long been known, for all that it had been long unspoken.
With good fortune.
If she had not left it too long.
If they had both not left it too long, for Sunset was as responsible for this as Cinder was, had been as inactive as Cinder was, and that was at the heart of Cinder’s fear, for if Sunset had not acted, then… then perhaps it was because she did not feel as Cinder did, for all that their feelings seemed obvious.
Or perhaps she simply does not know what to do with them. Like me.
What a pass we are come to, where that is my best hope.
Another advantage that it would have given her to move sooner was that Sunset wouldn’t have given the Fall Maiden powers away. To have waited had not made Sunset appreciably less overwhelming in power compared to Cinder, but it had… it had hurt her. Yes, she took the point, well and forcefully made by Princess Celestia, that she had hurt Sunset plenty, but that did not change the fact that Sunset had hurt her in turn.
And that hurt formed a wall between them. A wall on two sides, if Sunset nursed her injuries from Cinder as Cinder nursed the insult done by Sunset.
A wall or two that seemed hard to navigate around, impossible perhaps, and yet knocking them down… that was likely to be painful in its own way.
And yet, she would have to do it. Things could not go on like this, laughing and joking and… and pretending. Pretending that was all they wanted, when Cinder, for her part, wanted so much more.
And when have I ever flinched from getting what I want?
When was what I wanted ever what I truly needed?
This time it is; this time is different.
She reached up, and with one clawed hand, she tugged at her hair for a moment, using her claw like a comb to set her long, dark hair – good of the magic mirror to preserve both hair and eyes, her two best features – into what she hoped was a particularly alluring setting, before she knocked upon the door.
The door opened only a little, a crack appearing from out of which issued Sunset’s voice. “Who is it?”
Cinder folded her arms. “Are you too grand to actually come to the door now that you’re a princess?”
The door opened all the way, revealing Sunset – her horn aglow with the green of her magic – sitting out on the balcony. A pair of maroon drapes, so light that they were translucent, fluttered in the breeze as they partially covered off the balcony from the room beyond.
Sunset looked over her shoulder and grinned at Cinder. “Are you telling me that you wouldn’t open all the doors with magic if you could?”
“Possibly I would,” Cinder admitted softly. “But I can’t. May I come in?”
“Sure,” Sunset called from the balcony. “Why don’t you come out and join me? It’s… it’s wonderful out here.”
Cinder walked into the bedroom and reached out to close the door behind her with one hand; the door shut before she could quite reach it.
“Show off,” Cinder said.
Sunset’s grin widened as the night air blew through her fiery mane – the magic had preserved Sunset’s best feature too – she turned away from Cinder, looking out from the balcony across… the city? The sky? Both? Cinder supposed that she would find out once she actually got out there.
She couldn’t help but notice that Sunset had a larger room than she did, and more opulently furnished besides, not that Cinder’s room was small or sparse, but it didn’t have quite so many vases of fine quality as Sunset’s room had been adorned with, and all with fresh flowers sprouting out of them as if the pots were the soil in which they had been nurtured.
Still, she didn’t say anything about it. Rank had its privileges, after all, as did closeness to the hostess; Cinder doubted rather that Sunset had gone to the House of Nikos and then complained that Pyrrha had a better bedroom than she did. It was just one of those things, the way of the world.
And besides, who would deny a mother the right to dote upon her daughter?
“You can be anything you want in this world.”
I know it really ought to depend on what I want, Mother, but I hope you’re right.
Perhaps it wasn’t enough to say that she wanted Sunset, perhaps she ought to look for other answers besides that, but for now, it felt like enough for her. She wanted Sunset; she wanted to stay by her side; she wanted to face peril alongside her, feel joy alongside her, live alongside her, die alongside her if need be.
They could not be equals, not after Cinder had vested herself of all her power, but if she had to be the Jaune Arc to Sunset’s Pyrrha Nikos, she would bear that fate, and gladly so, if only they could be together.
“Cinder?” Sunset called, without looking around this time.
“I’m coming,” Cinder replied, grateful to Sunset for not looking around and thus affording her the opportunity to examine her reflection in the mirror. How did she look? She looked like a dragon with great hair. Was that enough? Perhaps she ought to wait until she was human again, human and sexy.
No. No, she had waited too long already. She had waited so long that this had already become difficult. Dragon or no, pony or no, their hearts were unchanged from when they had best stood in Remnant.
Best get this over with.
She walked out onto the balcony. Sunset was sat in a rather canine fashion, with her hind legs tucked up and her forelegs straight, upon the white marble which gleamed effulgent under the moonlight, her wings tucked in at her sides and her tail trailing out behind her. The gentle breeze, which Cinder felt kissing her scales as soon as she stepped out onto the balcony, ruffled her mane. It looked like flames dancing in the wind. The moon, full and bright, was reflected in her vivid green eyes, even as the moonlight shone upon her amber coat, making her look paler than she did under the sun.
“Sit down,” Sunset bade her. She glanced at Cinder. “Unless you weren’t planning on stopping long.”
“Long enough,” Cinder murmured, taking a seat on the balcony next to Sunset. The marble felt cold beneath her scales, although, since perhaps Sunset didn’t seem to feel it, perhaps it was just she that was cold and noticed when she got no warmth from things around her. She was a sort of reptile at present, after all.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Sunset asked.
“The night sky,” Cinder murmured. “Or the city?”
“Both.”
That was a fair enough answer, for they were both equally beautiful, and the many lights that glimmered in the city down below seemed the mirror the stars that gleamed above in escort to the moon. So many lights in the darkness, lights in the heavens and lights on earth, gleaming so bright amidst night's blanket all around.
Those lights – the heavenly and the temporal – reflected off the golden spires of Canterlot, made the marble towers gleam effulgent, and the moonlight shone upon them all; a cold, pale light, but not without a kind of fragile beauty nonetheless, like beholding a sculpture made of glass, no less wondrous for seeming so fragile.
"I can see why you wanted to come back here," Cinder said quietly. "It is a wondrous place. It's a wonder that you ever want to leave."
"I was a fool to go," Sunset admitted. "Although… although it worked out pretty well for me, in the end." She glanced up at Cinder, a smile playing across her face.
"'Pretty well'?" Cinder asked. "That is… a matter of opinion, considering all that you've been through."
"There have been good things to go along with the bad," Sunset replied. "I made my first friends. I met you."
Cinder snorted, causing a puff of black smoke to emerge from out of her nostrils. "Yes. Yes, I suppose you did. And I met you, for which I shall be forever grateful." She paused. "Although that isn't quite what I was referring to. I meant-"
"That I should stay here?" Sunset guessed. "Or that I might?"
"Remnant is not your world," Cinder declared. "As we are reminded by our presence here, this is your world. Your princess is here, your city is here, your people are here."
"My people have no need of me," Sunset said. "They have a better princess to defend them."
"Yet this is your land nonetheless," Cinder said. "Need or not, Remnant has no claim on your allegiance. Salem and the White Fang and all the rest need be nought to you."
"You are more than nought to me," Sunset declared. "As Pyrrha is, and Jaune and Ruby are, and Blake and all the rest, I cannot… they have claim on me, though Remnant and its kingdoms have none; Lady Nikos has a claim on me; Professor Ozpin has a claim on me; I cannot turn away from that. I will not. Though it be hazardous, and though the hazards appall Princess Celestia, nevertheless, I will not forsake them for a life of leisure here in Equestria, though it be the safest life that ever a pony lived. I will-"
"Fight on?" Cinder asked. "Until the fight consumes you?"
"Perhaps," Sunset allowed. "But I aim at more than that by far; I mean to win."
Cinder's eyes widened. "'To win'?" she repeated. "You mean-"
Sunset nodded. "Bring her down," she said. "I do not mean to pass this war on to the next generation."
Cinder's eyes narrowed. "Ambitious. Possibly too ambitious."
"Is there such a thing as too ambitious?" Sunset asked. "Has she who once took a stand against all four kingdoms and the power of Atlas become timid?"
"No more than you've gone soft with a surfeit of melancholy," Cinder muttered. She hesitated. "You do remember that she can't be killed."
"As far as Professor Ozpin knew," Sunset said. "And besides, to kill her… there will be a way. There must be a way."
"And if there isn't?"
"There must," Sunset insisted. "I refuse to admit that perpetual stalemate is our fate, that we may not a choose a destiny of glorious triumph; think of it Cinder: the whole world delivered, saved, thanks to us; no more plans, no more grand strategies, just roving bands of grimm driven by their base instincts, dangerous to be sure, but nothing that the huntsmen or the Atlesians couldn't handle. Remnant delivered into peace and prosperity for the new generation, wouldn't that be something? Wouldn't that be the biggest something that you could imagine? Wouldn't that be-?"
"A deed worthy of a song?" Cinder suggested. "A story? A fairytale?"
"All three?" Sunset replied.
Cinder sniggered. "All ambition has not left you then?"
Sunset grinned. "We have both… we live under the threat that our misdeeds will overshadow our virtues and accomplishments alike, but saving the world ought to be enough to get even the most bitter person to overlook the other stuff, don't you think?"
"For you, perhaps," Cinder said. "I shall be lucky to be remembered as a walk-on part."
"That's not true."
"Of course it's true; don't patronise me," Cinder demanded. "What can I contribute to this grand endeavour of yours?"
"I don't know," Sunset admitted. "I haven't gotten down to the details yet. In fact, I haven't really gotten down to the vagueries of it. It's an aim, at present, without…"
"Without anything, by the sounds of it," Cinder said. "You might as well declare that you're going to build a time machine without knowing yet whether it's even possible to travel through time."
"There will be a way," Sunset said. "I admit that I haven't figured it out yet, but we will find a way, together. I need you by my side, Cinder; I can't do this without you."
Cinder looked down at her. "Why not?" she asked quietly.
Sunset looked up at her, the starlight reflected in her eyes. She seemed to lean forward, closer to Cinder, but then pull back. "How, um, how was Princess Celestia?"
"Your mother gave me a bit of a hard time," Cinder said, looking away from Sunset and hiding the disappointment in her voice. "But no more than I deserved."
"What do you mean?"
Cinder was silent for a moment. "Princess Celestia pointed out, quite rightly, that I had hurt you in the past."
"She didn't need to say that," Sunset sighed. "I'm sorry if she-"
"There's no need to apologise," Cinder said. "She was absolutely right."
"I don't care about that."
"Nevertheless," Cinder replied. "I hurt you. I caused you grief and heartache. I… I ruined your relationship with Ruby, by what I did."
"What I did."
"What I made you do," Cinder corrected. "I cost you… let's be honest, you wouldn't be contemplating saving the world to restore your reputation if I hadn't dragged it through the mud."
"There are other reasons I want to save the world," Sunset said defensively.
"And you would have one less if it weren't for me," Cinder pointed out. "I hurt you, Sunset, and I am sorry for it."
"Apology accepted."
"Don't take it so lightly!" Cinder snapped. "You never appreciate the things that I give to you, no matter how precious they are or how hard to give up! You don't appreciate it, and you don't appreciate me, and it… it's maddening, to tell you the truth."
Sunset blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"
Cinder looked down. Her wings flapped once behind her, and then again. She folded her scaly arms across her chest. "I don't… I hurt you, and I am sorry for it, truly. My intent was wicked, and I did wickedness to you which you did not deserve, and you have my… I'm sorry. But you hurt me as well. You didn't mean to, but that just makes it worse because you don't understand why or how you hurt me, and you didn't think about how I would feel; you just… I gave those powers to you. I made you the Fall Maiden because you were my… because you saved me, and I… the Fall Maiden is the Maiden of Choice, and I chose you, just as I had intended to choose you when I took my own life. I was ready to die to pass the powers onto you, you made sure that wasn't necessary, you saved me and for that I will always… but I chose you for my power nonetheless. I gave you that for which I had worked and dreamed, the object of my life's desire; I gave you my armour against the cruelty of the world, and you… you just gave it away to Pyrrha, to Pyrrha of all people!"
"She was the one Professor Ozpin chose," Sunset murmured.
"But I did not!" Cinder cried. "I chose you! And you trampled upon my choice without a second thought."
Silence descended between them. Sunset's voice, when it came, was weak and rather feeble-sounding as she said, "I had… I had no idea that it meant that much to you."
"No, you didn't," Cinder said bitterly. "I covered with jibes and sarcasm, and you didn't even realise."
Sunset frowned. "I don't think I can regret what I did," she admitted. "I was your choice, but that doesn't mean that I deserved to be Fall Maiden ahead of Pyrrha, and Pyrrha-"
"I'm not interested in hearing paeans to Pyrrha's virtue," Cinder muttered.
"Then what is it that you want from me?" Sunset demanded.
"From you? Nothing," Cinder said. "And everything." Now comes the plunge. No point putting it off any longer. "I want you." There, she had said it. The words had left her mouth. They had passed beyond recall. What had been said could no longer be unsaid.
She looked at Sunset for some sign of how she was taking it.
Confused, was how it looked to Cinder from Sunset's face, the wideness of her eyes and the way that they kept darting back and forth, the way that her mouth was hanging open just a little bit.
Cinder wasn't sure if that was altogether a good sign.
“Want,” Sunset murmured. “You mean-“
“Yes,” Cinder said, a smile spreading across her draconic features. “Exactly.” She paused. “I’m done pretending that I don’t feel the way I feel, I’m done pretending that this is just a friendship, I… I’m done, Sunset. I mean, after everything we’ve been through… you can’t deny that there is something between us. You can’t deny that we had fun; I mean, we’ve practically already been on dates, and, yes I was technically pretending to something that I wasn’t at the time, but the time we spent together, that… those feelings were real, even if not everything else about me was. I’m not asking you to marry me, I’m not asking for a lifelong commitment from you, although I wouldn’t say no to it either, but… all I’m asking is that we give it a try, see how it works out. That… that’s all I ask of you.”
Sunset’s eyebrows rose.
“Yes, I too have seen The Mistralian Opera Ghost,” Cinder declared. “In order to affect to be cultured and cultivated, one must consume culture, you know.”
“I can understand that,” Sunset said, a touch of amusement entering her voice. “I thought you’d prefer the Ghost to the count.”
“Oh, I do,” Cinder assured her.
Sunset grinned. “Me too. Dark and brooding and… dangerous.”
Cinder hesitated for a moment. “I am not so dangerous any more.”
“Nevertheless,” Sunset said softly. Now it was her turn to hesitate. “A part of me feels that I should respond in some grandiose fashion, as is my habitual wont,” she said, momentarily looking away from Cinder, before looking back at her again as she went on. “Another part of me feels as if we’ve left it too late for that.”
Cinder hesitated. “You mean-“
“I mean, yeah,” Sunset said. “What would be the point of denying it, really?” She chuckled. “Ever since the moment I met you, I think I’ve felt-“
“Drawn to you?” Cinder asked. “I went to that party to size up Pyrrha, but you… you were the one that I-“
“You shone like a star, that night,” Sunset murmured. “The brighter where ten thousand are.”
“If I had visible skin, I’d be blushing right now,” Cinder said dryly. “And then you ran to the docking pad to meet me as I arrived.”
“And you flirted with all the subtlety of a blow to the head.”
“You should talk,” Cinder replied sharply.
Sunset shrugged. “After all that, after all that we’ve been through together… pretending to be at all shocked or surprised by this would be rather facile, I think.”
“How long have you known?” Cinder asked.
“Does it matter?”
“It matters a little that you didn’t say anything!” Cinder squawked.
“You didn’t say anything either!” Sunset retorted.
“I didn’t know how you’d react!”
“What kind of an excuse is that?”
“What’s your excuse?”
“I didn’t want you to feel like you owed me!” Sunset cried. “I didn’t want you to feel like- like I’d saved your life so you were obligated to love me, like the hero who rescues the princess and makes her his bride. I didn’t want you to… I was worried that you were too-“
“Obsessed with you?”
“There are times I worry that I’m the only thing you have,” Sunset said. “It isn’t, right?”
“No,” Cinder conceded. “It probably isn’t. But that… that is for the future. Right now, I’m offering you my hand, and my heart. Don’t treat them like you did my Maiden powers.”
“No,” Sunset whispered. “No, I would never… this, I know the value of.”
It was strange. This should have felt elating. This should have felt triumphant. This should have felt any number of marvellous things, this should have felt like the world moving around them, but instead… well, they had left it so long, hadn’t they? They had left it so long when it was obvious, and so, Cinder found that her main feeling was… relief. Relief that it was out in the open, relief that they could be honest, relief that… relief that it was done.
It was done. It was spoken. It was out. It was known. It was reciprocated.
She… she was with Sunset now.
Huh. That did feel pretty good, actually.
Especially since it meant that she could do what she had wanted to do for a very long time.
Cinder reached out and cupped Sunset’s face with one hand as she bent down and k-
“Ow!”
Cinder recoiled, pulling her hand away as though she’d been stung. “What? What’s wrong?”
“You bit me,” Sunset moaned, covering her nose with one hoof. “You bit me on the nose!”
“Oh, gods, I’m so sorry!” Cinder cried. “I didn’t mean to… I mean I’m not used to this long snout or this many teeth, and I…” She paused. Then she giggled. Then she covered her mouth but failed to stem the flow of laughter that issued out of it until her whole body was shaking.
“It’s not funny,” Sunset said, her voice slightly muffled by her forehoof over her snout.
“I think it is,” Cinder countered. “I mean, for one thing, can you imagine this happening to Jaune and Pyrrha?”
Sunset thought about it for a moment. “No,” she admitted grumpily. For a moment, she was silent, a slight sternness in her green eyes, her brown sharply furrowed. Then her expression softened, and a touch of wry laughter crept into her voice as she said, “I guess we’re not exactly classically romantic, are we?”
“If you wanted classical romance, you would have taken me like the hero making the princess his bride,” Cinder pointed out. “Plus, we should probably wait until we’re human again before we try, well, anything really.”
Sunset lowered her hoof. Cinder could see the angry red marks left by her fangs. There was no blood, thankfully, she had not bitten deep enough for that, but it definitely showed on Sunset’s face, and probably would for some time.
“I really am sorry,” Cinder murmured.
“It’s fine; a few lovebites never hurt anyone,” Sunset said easily.
“'Love bites'?”
“Sounds good,” Sunset said, “doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” Cinder said. “It sounds… it sounds wonderful.”
“You know,” Sunset said, “there is one thing that we can do?”
“Really?”
Sunset lunged forward, rearing up onto her hind legs as she pressed her soft, furry body against Cinder’s scales and wrapped her forehooves and her feathery wings around Cinder’s body, as best she could.
The stars ceased to glisten in Sunset’s eyes as she closed them, resting her head on Cinder’s chest.
They had hugged before of course, but this time… this time was different. And not just because of how Sunset felt.
This felt different, too.
There was nothing between them any more, neither lies nor walls nor misconceptions. There was only them.
Cinder wrapped her arms around Sunset in turn and bent down her neck to place her face against Sunset’s cheek.
Sunset was right: for now, this was enough.
Everything else could wait.
After all, they’d waited this long already.