//------------------------------// // Of Mentors and Pupils // Story: Half-Finished Dreams, and Other Forgotten Things // by dragonjek //------------------------------// Sunset Shimmer was a mare of talent and class. She did not stomp, trudge, grouse, whine, or grimace. Therefore, her behavior, as she definitely did not grump down the halls of Canterlot Castle, could not be described as any of the above. Not that Sunset wouldn’t have reason to complain, if she were the kind of mare who would bemoan her problems. There are some things that would upset even the calmest and most fair-hearted of ponies (amongst which Sunset Shimmer was obviously numbered). Being replaced, for instance. If Sunset Shimmer were grinding her teeth in frustration (which she wasn’t), her jaw would certainly be aching in echo of her frustration. Three weeks! It had been a full three weeks since her last lesson with Princess Celestia, while her princess deigned that her precious little free time be spent on that purple, pony-shaped rat. Oh, they still met at breakfast, and she had managed to squeeze in some short conversations with Princess Celestia since the princess took in that insufferable leech. All their meetings had been pleasant, of course—how could time with the princess not be?—but each time they ended, she found her next lesson delayed even further. All for Twilight Sparkle. She took a deep breath as she passed the guards who stood like statues outside the entrance to the Royal Suite. A pony might have called it calming, if Sunset Shimmer had had any reason to need a calming breath in the first place. Lavish sitting pillows lay before a simple, low-set table—well, simple until a pony first noticed that the grain patterns of the still-living wood slowly migrated from one end to the other. Despite being of one of her favorite and most comfortable study spots, Sunset Shimmer had no stomach for staying today. Not after seeing Sparkle nestled into the pillows like some sort of cat. An ugly, awkward, mulberry, tiny, book-reading cat, the kind that finds a way to somehow fill an entire bed despite being only a kitten. Except unlike a cat, Sparkle was actually ‘supposed’ to be there, in Sunset’s princess’s pillows, reading Sunset’s princess’s books! It would be infuriating, if Sunset Shimmer were a pony with a temper. “Good evening,” she said with forced cheer. The unwritten laws of society demanded she make some token attempt at socializing with her. She received no answer, but she hadn’t expected one from Sparkle. She moved past the little annoyance, who didn’t even have the courtesy to acknowledge her presence, to return to her room. Sunset Shimmer did not glare spitefully at the door opposite her own before entering, especially not at the stupid six-fold starburst design on it (which was totally not a more magically significant array than the divided sun imprinted into her own). She tossed her backpack onto the bed before sagging into the pillow set before her desk. Her latest short talk with the princess—and subsequent delay of their next private lesson—had given her vigor born of emotion, but it fled as she calmed in the privacy of her room. Sunset pulled out her class roster with movements that were devoid of energy, imprinting into her mind the names and faces of the ponies that had dared to laugh at her. Her first day of school had been… difficult. It wasn’t like she hadn’t expected it. Of course her students would be jealous of her. Sunset Shimmer, the greatest and foremost disciple of Princess Celestia—who would not be envious of her success? But even if they were her elders, she had thought that the class she had been given would at least respect her knowledge and skill. What other pony had earned a magister’s degree from the university branch of Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns while still fourteen? What other pony had found the flaw in Starswirl’s Broken Spectrum Model of Magical Diversity? Who else had produced a three-axis model to replace it? Who else had been gifted with the secrets of solar magic? Who held enough of the princess’s trust to be permitted to read the forbidden tomes sealed in hidden vaults below the city? Nopony, that’s who. Jealousy was only to be expected, but there was more than that at play. Sunset just didn’t know what it was. How could anypony, when faced with the opportunity gain so much knowledge and power, be spiteful at that chance? Sunset Shimmer didn’t understand it. She didn’t understand them. She levitated a sappy romance novel from her bookshelf. It wasn’t because she wanted comfort reading. __________________________________________________________________________ Sweat trailed its way down Sunset Shimmer’s face in rivulets. She dearly wanted to wipe the gross liquid away, but her attention couldn’t be spared for such things. The radiance of her magic painted the walls of the empty room a bright aqua, and radiance it must be called; the spell upon which she worked demanded more power and skill than most unicorns could dream of. Even forming a double corona of magic around the horn was considered a sign that the unicorn was a master of magic and contender for the title of Archmage. This spell required three. The smallest layer, nearing white in its intensity, still reached a dagger’s length past her horn. Each stage past it grew only larger than the last, if dimmer—to such a point that most of her body was within the area of the third corona. Not that Sunset Shimmer could see it; her gaze was fixed elsewhere, seeing only magic as she wove spellstrands together in a place beyond where eyes could reach. Power burned through her veins and her horn, pulsing as it coursed throughout her body. Hair-raising shivers followed in its wake, but not due to the cold. It was that nameless chill that ran down one’s spine, and each wave only made the heat that followed more intense. The magical pressure of sustaining three coronas was too great to be confined to the horn. The delicious heat spread through Sunset’s skull, her spine, her ribs, and all the way down to her rear knees. Quivers of strain ran across her flesh from the raw force she bent to her will, a physical response in dull echo of magical power. “You have to be gentle,” a voice whispered into his ear. It was soft and serene, holding the warmth that lulled ponies to sleep on summer days. “Even the slightest shift grows into a force of destruction who handling such power. If you don’t handle the magic more carefully, the sun will tear it apart.” Had anypony else spoken those words they would have been ruinous to Sunset’s concentration. But the voice of Princess Celestia could never do so, not to her. It was a fragile web—small, frail, something she would expect a schoolfoal to practice. Had she not been creating it in the nuclear furnace that orbited Equus, it would have been insultingly simple. As that was exactly what she was doing, however, Sunset felt as though she were trying to balance on a greased tightrope held between two spastic pegasi. It was a good thing that she was an excellent acrobat. She grunted her acknowledgement and shifted her focus to an even more minute scale. Each strand she held wove into the others as she carefully, slowly, delicately forged her spell, the dancing plasma of the sun brushing against it in a deceptively soft caress that belied its immense power. The spell’s completion strummed through her soul, telling Sunset to pull her spell construct free of the solar flames. It was a long-established fact that magic did not conduct heat, but she could not help but think the room grew hotter as she completed the casting of the sun-molded spell. Softly panting from the exertion of casting, Sunset Shimmer lifted a hoof to wipe away the sweat on her brow, gazing down upon the product of her labors. It was a blue plate. “If I may?” inquired Princess Celestia as she moved up to stand alongside Sunset. At her half-bow/half-nod the princess lifted the cerulean plate, slowly revolving it as she examined each inch of it. The princess pressed tapped its center with the tip of her horn; when she removed it, the blueness slide off of the plate to hang in a formless mass. The term is often used for objects that have a shape that is confusing or difficult to discern, but the blueness was literally without form. It was simply the concept of ‘cerulean blue’ resting atop her horn. It wasn’t as though Sunset could see it—a concept is not perceptible to mere vision, after all—but there was nonetheless an awareness that there was blue there. She averted her eyes and tried to ignore the crawling sensation it evoked. The princess pressed this blueness against the table upon which the plate had rested. Color seeped across the surface until the entire table had become cerulean, covering a far greater surface area than existed on the plate. Princess Celestia smiled, and on any other day Sunset would have been pleased with her attention. But not today. “Excellently done, my most ambitious student,” came the warm praise of her teacher. “Your progress in solar magic has been impressive. I believe you are now ready to learn the simpler spells of solar magic; until now, your work has just been to familiarize yourself with using—” “‘Impressive’?” “… certainly,” replied Princess Celestia after a brief pause. “Amongst all the students I have taught over the millennia, I have found only three who I have trusted enough to teach the magic of the sun. Watching you develop into the mare you are has been a joy, and I look forwards to seeing you apply your passion to learning this most personal of my magics.” Each word felt like a jab directed at her. “If that’s so, then how could you—” Embarrassment flushed over her when Sunset Shimmer choked on the angry and bitter sound of her voice. “How could you replace me?” A pathetic whimper of betrayal trailed behind her words. Sunset couldn’t keep her accusing gaze on Princess Celestia. She turned away until her stare hit the floor, half-hiding behind her hair. It was good that she wasn’t facing the princess; she didn’t want her, of all ponies, to see stupid tears trying to seep out of the corners of her eyes. She was almost a grown mare, for star’s sake! The white blur at the edge of her vision grew larger, the clop of hoof on tile marking each of the slow, deliberate steps that brought it closer. In one movement Sunset was enveloped in that whiteness. Alabaster wings wrapped around her, gently embracing her as the unicorn pushed her face into her mentor’s chest. “Listen to me, Sunset Shimmer,” breathed the princess into her ear, “and listen well. It matters not whether you remain in this castle, delve deeper in your foray into teaching, or decide to leave Equestria altogether; the day that I would not hold you in my wings will never come.” “So long as you seek knowledge, I will be there to teach you.” How many times had the princess taken the time from her precious few times of relaxation to help Sunset figure out how an unusual spell worked? How often had she sacrificed her all-but-nonexistent free time to satisfy Sunset’s curiosity? “So long as you seek to further yourself, I will be there to guide you.” How many of the hated soirees of the unpleasant aristocracy had Princess Celestia endured to introduce her to yet another figure who could help her in her claim for the Archmagistry? “So long as you seek comfort, I will be there to take you into my embrace.” Princess Celestia’s fur darkened from the tears Sunset could no longer keep back. Her breathing shuddered, every inhalation burying her deeper into the princess’s familiar scent. How often had the princess held her like this when she had been overcome by frustration at her seemingly impossible goal, or by the shame from her setbacks? “I will always be your teacher, my most ambitious student… and your friend, if you would have me.” “But what about her?” Sunset whispered. She couldn’t keep her emotions out of the word; but then again, she wasn’t doing a good job of controlling her emotions at all at the moment. Thank the heavens Blueblood couldn’t see her like this. He would ruin her precarious standing amongst the nobility. “Sunset Shimmer… come this next birthday, you will have grown into the fine mare I have always known you could be. I could continue to keep you on as an apprentice and continue your education as we have—but would you truly want that? You have oft spoken to me of what you dream of becoming, my most ambitious student.” It was not easy being the student of her princess. The difficulties were numerous but surmountable, and for the most part nothing more than inconveniences. But the nobility… For a commoner to take such an esteemed position as the student of Princess Celestia caused an outrage amongst the aristocracy. The upper crust of Canterlot objected; even when Sunset Shimmer had demonstrated her power and skill, she was disregarded in favor of those of higher birth. Their dismissal burned more than any failed spell ever had. She had spent years forcing her way to the top despite their objections. She spread her name through schools as she advanced magical theory, forcing widespread revisions in textbooks of magic or modern history; she spread her face across petty newspapers with her record-setting early graduation from the most esteemed school in Equestria and a (very brief) job as a model; she spread her popularity with ponies as a whole via extensive—and much premeditated in both subject and timing—donations to public works and charities. It was hard. She had sweated and bled enough liquid to fill a lake, and had cried more times than she cared to admit. She had been forced to find ways to make money outside of her stipend to keep up with her donations. All this she did to force the Equestrian aristocracy to notice her. Even as a mere commoner, she would assume the position of Archmage. And if not now… then she would wait, and become so great that when whatever old geezer they would replace the current with finally died, it would be impossible to choose anypony else. “No… no, I wouldn’t want that,” Sunset admitted. To stand out as her own pony, she couldn’t remain in her mentor’s shadow. She knew that, but that didn’t change how much it hurt. “But I’ve read the histories—you’ve never taken a student until decades after the previous died. I… we haven’t even officially ended my apprenticeship yet!” “Twilight Sparkle is an unusual case. Until she gains control over her magic, she is a danger to herself and everypony around her. Her first experience with higher magic was… traumatic, and nopony else has the raw strength needed to keep her from accidentally ripping apart the walls.” __________________________________________________________________ Gravity magic was a terrible field of study, and whoever created it was a bad pony who should feel bad about themselves. That’s what Sunset Shimmer would have thought if she were so impolite as to think something awful about another pony. Sunset carefully set her books in neat stacks on her bed, which was a completely different act from hurling them at her wall. Her room was large enough that she was able to pace without an inconveniently located wall disrupting her thoughts. This was a feature that Sunset had always taken liberal advantage of; she had a lot to think about, be it about planning, furthering her studies in magic, or any other of the assorted tasks she took upon herself.