Dearest Luna,
It’s Hearth’s Warming again, and never do I feel your loss so keenly as I do on a holiday meant to celebrate our closest friendships and an atmosphere of love. As always, know that I miss you terribly, little sister, and I write these in hopes that one day, I will get to share all of this with you.
You’ll be pleased to know that for once, I am not attending one of the ‘over done productions put on by toadies looking to curry favor from the rulership.’ Instead, I’ll be spending it in the palace this year, in a much more private celebration.
Ageless eyes stared out at the slowly descending moon, with its sooty mark of a mare marring the shining silver surface, even as golden magic worked carefully to wrap yet another box in brightly colored paper and ribbons. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, sister,” she murmured softly.
“Did you say something, Your Highness?”
Celestia turned to see the young mare standing there, assisting her with the wrapping of gifts. “Nothing of import, Raven. Only the musings of an old mare.” As Raven Inkwell’s mouth opened, the alicorn shushed her. “And don’t try to tell me I’m not old. I marked fifty two centuries a few decades ago. If anypony has the right to call themselves old, it is me.”
Raven nodded noncommittally. “As you wish, Princess. I had wondered…do you think it entirely wise to turn down the invitation to the play? The populace looks to you for guidance and they are very sensitive to perceived slights.”
Not this again. Celestia kept the frown off her features from years, centuries of practice. “I understand that it is a risk…but truly, Raven, in this case, I have little choice. I cannot take her with me, and with the surges, I cannot risk leaving her alone, even with a nursemaid. Somepony could get hurt.” Her eyes strayed to the tiny form curled up on the bed, clutching a stuffed toy that was almost bigger than it was.
Why, you ask, did I change my mind? The reason was quite simple, but to me, it is a wonderful thing.
Perhaps it is best you be sitting, sister, for this news.
I have taken the sweetest, most adorable little foal into my care. It only took five thousand years, but you are an auntie, Lulu!
I’m so sorry I didn’t share the news sooner, but I wasn't sure the situation would be more than temporary. Poor little foal was lost in a forest fire, and we have been unable to locate her birth family. So for the foreseeable future, she is my sweet little foal, and I see such bright things ahead for her.
She’s only six months old and already so clever and smart, sister, and she has the softest, fluffiest little golden coat, with a little curly mane that reminds me of all those days’ ends where we would stand together so that I could lower the sun while you raised the moon. It's one of the reasons I named her Sunset Shimmer. Yes, like in the poem. Little Sunset is a treasure, and I hope so strongly that you one day get to meet her yourself--I know you will love her as much as I do.
The alicorn surveyed the pile of gifts. “...do you think she’ll be able to open them?” she asked in sudden worry. “Or do you think we wrapped them too tight?”
“I think it will be fine, Your Highness. In fact, I--”
Raven was interrupted by the sound of paper tearing, and a tiny, high pitched giggle. Both mares turned to find the filly happily using her tiny hooves and gummy mouth to tear a few discarded pieces of wrapping paper to shreds, kicking up the resulting confetti like warm, brightly colored snow. Bits of paper stuck in her mane and coat, as she rolled around with happy squeals of laughter amidst the mess she had made on the plush carpet. A small piece drifted down to land on her nose, making the tiny foal go cross-eyed right before she sneezed, sending the paper pieces flying.
The younger mare arched an eyebrow almost to her hairline, before turning back to Celestia. In an absolute deadpan, she replied, “I am fairly certain, Your Highness, that she is fully capable of tearing paper. You have nothing to worry about.”
It’s my little sun’s very first Hearth’s Warming, and its almost hard to believe the time has gone by so quickly. I know it's always been one of my favorite holidays, and maybe its because of the way Sunset’s eyes light up at all the brightly colored decorations, but this year the whole season has just seemed extra magical and breathtaking. It’s the first time in many years that my heart has felt full for the holiday--that’s not to say I miss you any less, my dearest little sister, but I just feel…like I have a reason to celebrate this year.
Sunset got her present from Raven early--I told you about her in one of my more recent letters, she’s the mare who took over for Writing Desk--an adorable little red coat and hat to keep her warm, so I could take her out into the first heavy snow of the season. Yes, yes, I’m perfectly aware that warming charms are a thing, and that I could very easily have enchanted one for Sunset, but it was so generous and thoughtful of Raven to give her a coat, and it wasn’t hard to tuck a charm into the inner lining to make doubly sure she stayed warm. It was worth it to see her bounding around in the snow of the gardens--I had some of it cleared, but the night before had seen a storm that dropped a fresh foot of snow on the ground, and the drifts were taller than Sunset! I wish you could have seen her trying to bunny hop through the snow!
All she could see sticking up out of the drift was a tiny amber bottom and a swishy red-and-gold tail that was wagging like it belonged to a puppy and not a pony foal. Under the snow, she could hear the shuffling sounds of ‘extremely industrious digging, and Celestia could not help but laugh.
That of course prompted Sunset to wiggle back out of the hole she’d dug, only to sink up to her shoulders in another drift, and stare at the princess with big blue-green eyes and a giggle. Snow was caught in the little one’s mane and in the folds of the coat she was wearing, but she bounded awkwardly towards Celestia a moment later with the uneven gait of a foal whose legs were not really long enough to run properly yet.
Celestia caught the little filly on her last hop, scooping her up into her wings and forelegs for a hug and a cuddle. “Are you having fun, little sun? Maybe I can show you how to build a snowpony…would you like that?”
Babyish babble and a mouth gumming on her feathers was a thing the monarch took as a ‘yes.’
Of course, our last stop outside before we came in to eat was at the grove. Yes, I know, I am as surprised as you are that those Whispering Firs are still growing strong, but we tend them carefully year round, and they seem all the more healthy for it. Every year, I trim enough to make a wreath, from your trees and mine, and Sunset was absolutely enthralled by the grove. We even planted her a little sapling there, so she’ll have a tree whose branches we can add to the wreath for years to come.
I know it's not the same as having you with me, Lulu, but...it was nice to have somepony with me again, to share the traditions from our own foalhood with. I know the main messages of the holiday are still the same, but it just feels so…strange to see all these newer traditions that have supplanted the ones we knew.
Celestia spoke to the foal nestled comfortably between her wings as she trotted carefully through the snow to the small stand of evergreens located at the very back of the palace grounds. “And every year, my sister and I would make wreaths from these trees. They have a special magic in them, you know. They trap memories in them, voices and conversations, and even years later, in the darkest parts of winter, when the wind blows, the memories seep out of them, and you can hear ponies who are long gone. When I was a filly, just like you, it was a tradition to use branches from them, because if you were lucky, you could hear the echoes of ponies you loved who weren’t with you anymore. That was a very hard time, you see, and these trees were one of the only things that Discord’s magic couldn’t bend.”
Sunset made a burbly sound, contentedly ‘chewing’ on a bit of Celestia’s mane, and the mare answered as she entered the hushed grove made of spindly, crooked evergreens--to thin and sparse, with knotted, twisted limbs, they were nothing that could ever have been worked into useful tools, weapons, or shelter, only smaller, hoofcraft items or carvings. Or, like she had mentioned, the boughs could be used for making wreaths. “We don’t really know why they are unaffected by his Chaos magic. Some used to think it was because memories are stronger than even the pandemonium of life. My sister always thought it was something much simpler though--that they absorb the chaos as part of them, just another memory, and that the magic that connects them to hearts and minds of creatures is some form of ancient magic much stronger than even him.”
She gently lowered the filly off her back to the much shallower snow under the closely growing stand of tall trees, smiling indulgently as Sunset began pawing and digging curiously into the snow near the tree bases, little tail still swishing. It gave her a few moments to carefully pull the clippers from her saddlebag, and start carefully snipping off some of the smaller branches while voices of long past whispered in her ears.
Sunset sat up abruptly, head cocked, little ears twitching to and fro, as laughter swirled through her already tangled mane. “....where are you taking me, Sunshine?” a voice whispered, sending both pain and longing through Celestia’s heart. “...it is too bad that we do not know how these trees capture memory…then we could possess a tree for Papa, Tia. Or Mother. I would so love to keep their voices alive and with us…” came another, a memory echo of her sister amidst the fir needles, almost leading her and the wobbly foal around the glen. Sunset pounced on a mound of snow with a gleeful noise, clearly believing it to be the source of the sound, only to sink into the drift and start digging, kicking up a shower of white powder behind her.
A surprised squeal had the alicorn lifting the foal in her magic a minute later. “Are you alright, my little sun?” she asked.
Little Sunset responded with a muffled squeak, and the mare realized her tiny charge was holding a small branch with an intact pinecone hanging from it in her mouth. A pinecone from trees that hadn’t produced cones in over two centuries. “Oh my darling little sun…what a treasure you have found.” She carefully took the cone in her magic, and then looked at the empty space in the center of the grove where they’d had to cut down a few of the trees that had died due to rot in their bark, and came to a decision.
Less than fifteen minutes later, that barren space was covered with half a dozen young saplings, still flush with growing magics--and memories--that she’d infused them with, much to the wide eyed fascination of the filly resting on the snow next to her. “There. They will fill in this space nicely, and they can be yours, Sunset.”
Sunset tilted her head back to watch as Celestia gathered up the bundle of branches she’d trimmed from the mature--if elderly--trees, then reared back on her tiny haunches next to the closest sapling, trying to grab a branch in her mouth. All that did was bend the young tree over, leaving a filly barely on her hooves, dangling from the branch with a grumpy grumble.
Laughter bubbled up and with care, the alicorn snipped the small branch from the young sapling. It would not damage it to take just the little branch, and Sunset clearly wanted to have her own. The little unicorn tumbled into the snow, branch going with her, and after she rolled gamely to her little hooves, she picked up the branch by its end proudly, dragging it to Celestia as best she could, given that it was longer than she was. The sight made the solar princess laugh again with utter delight, because Sunset resembled a kitten or puppy dragging a scarf through the palace hallways…a comparison that gained even more credence when her little tail started wagging and swishing happily back and forth once more.
Dinner was, for the first time in years, a private affair--just myself and little Sunset, and after we made the wreath, I told her the story of Hearth’s Warming, just like Papa used to tell us. I know she’s too little to understand the story itself, and there’s no way she speaks the language, especially not a dialect five thousand years gone, but she still listened, and it felt good to keep Papa’s memory alive by passing on the story the way he told it. I think I’ll do it again next year, and the year after, though I might have to eventually do it in the more modern Ponish.
“‘Nae, I feel not hate fer ya, though of earth and horn ya be,’ replied the pegasus. ‘T’were I ta be honest, I have more anger in my breast fer Commander Blowhard there than any of ya.’
“There was a snort of laughter from Smart Cookie, huddled miserably with ice coating her up to her barrel and trapping her mossy colored tail around her hocks. ‘Too bad we’re about to die like rats in a cat’s jaws…because it sounds like you two are ponies I could really be friends with.’
“Clover felt his teeth chattering hard enough that they might crack. ‘What force says we cannot still be friends. Let death claim us if it m-m-must, at least we d-d-do not g-g-go into the dark alone, as they w-w-will.’ He jerked his horn at their leaders, who were wasting their final breaths screaming hateful things at one another, their voices becoming shrill and wailing like the foul spirits in the frigid tempest above. ‘I would r-r-rather pledge our friendship n-n-now, and know that where I g-g-go, it is with ponies I spoke my last words to in love and kindness, not hate and anger. I am honored to have m-m-met you…friends.’
“And with that soft admission, his voice shaking from the ice that crept up his neck and threatened to freeze the blood in his veins, the unicorn felt a strange warmth spreading from within him in that crystal and ice-coated cave. At first, he believed it merely the false warmth of death…but his new friends cried out in surprise and he was blinded by the light that shone from his horn, a fire borne of friendship and kindness, that melted the ice away from their bodies and became the Hearthfire that drove back the screaming, wailing cries and shattered the foul magic the Windigo had laid on the hearts of all Equestria.
“The Hateful Winter was ended, not by the sword, or by defiance, my little sun, but by friendship. It is why we celebrate even now, to remind us that we must hold kindness in our hearts, and extend it to others--not just ponies, but all creatures, great and small--and to reject anger and hate so that the Windigo find no home in our hearts. As long as we do, there will never again be a Winter Without End….
“You must always remember, and keep this knowledge close, no matter what your life brings: Hate and Fear only beget more of the same. Less work they take than stoking Friendship’s Fire, but in the end, all they leave is an icy domain.”
The only answer to the end of the story was a sleepy, whuffly little baby snore, and Celestia lifted the tent of her wing to observe Sunset curled among the newest stuffed toys she’d been given for the holiday, drooling on the oversized paws of a soft, cuddly replica of an ursa done in sparkly fabric, her little forelimbs tugging the older plush of a white alicorn close. “Good night, my little sun,” Celestia murmured, placing a kiss on Sunset’s forehead, near the base of her horn. “Happy Hearth’s Warming.”
And maybe, Luna…someday you’ll be back, and we can share these holiday traditions, all three of us, as a family. I…I would like that, very much, sister. There is not a day that goes by that I do not miss you terribly, and would give anything to fix what I somehow, unknowingly, broke. I love you, Lulu, more than ever, and I miss you more than there are words for me to describe.
Happy Hearth’s Warming, baby sister.
All My Love,
Celestia
With a heavy sigh, and a lingering glance towards the tiny form still sleeping on the bed, the princess of the sun folded the creamy parchment into an envelope, writing the date on it and sealing it with her own personal seal. Her eyes strayed to the window where moonlight streamed in across the floor, throwing silver shadows on this slice of the world, even as she retrieved a chest from the false back of her closet, one carefully locked and kept hidden from prying eyes. A key produced from a separate hiding place unlocked it, and she opened the lid slowly so she could place the letter on top of all the others…hundreds of missives never sent, all meant for the sister she had failed so long ago.
Her hoof lingered on the lid for a moment, and she stared through the window again at the moon marred by that sooty image of a mare. “I won’t fail again, Luna…I promise. You’ll be home soon, and I’ll fix it. I promise.”
And just for a moment, as she returned the chest to it's hidden home, she fancied she heard a faint, faraway voice and the lilting strain of an ancient melody, the words unknown now to all but the most dedicated scholars of Old Ponish dialects... and one lonely alicorn mare who had unexpectedly found herself less alone that Hearth's Warming. Joy, and an unshakable certainty filled her heart, and she murmured, "One day we'll be together again."