II
A Child of Crystal
The walk up the East Tower took an eternity. How could it not, when Princess Celestia had mentioned it was the tallest of the Palace towers? But Sunset took on the challenge, just as she always had, as she kept pace with the alicorn by her side. It bewildered her that Celestia had insisted on carrying her luggage. There were only two cases, true, but she could handle them well enough on her own.
It was a humble little task no Princess should do, yet she’d only chuckled and smiled kindly, telling her that she needed not fret about it.
So Sunset let the matter pass, and the rest of their walk went in silence.
“And here we are,” Celestia said. With flourish such as only she could manage, she unlocked the beautiful purple door before them and opened it up.
Before Sunset’s eyes lay the largest bedroom she’d ever stood in. Two windows dominated, one towards the East and the other the West. The dying rays of the Sun shone through the glass, illuminating the room in a warm yellow light. Up above, a crystalline chandelier hung, set against a mural of the Sun that dominated the ceiling.
The furniture, too, drew her eyes. A wooden desk, beautifully carved for study. A lush poster-bed against the blue walls, its sheets plain yet comfortable-looking.
Finally – and Sunset knew not how she’d missed this initially – a fruit bowl at the centre, sitting atop a little circular table. Taking ginger steps inside, she took a whiff of its scent.
Fresh, and alluring. When was the last time she’d eaten…
“What do you think?” Celestia’s velvet voice interrupted her hungry thoughts.
Sunset scrunched her brow. “I guess it looks nice,” she replied, feeling a tad unsure.
Was this a test? Celestia looked so expectant, so hopeful. Whatever sort of game she was playing, perhaps it was best to play along. But a question passed her mind just as she pondered how comfortable the bed would be.
“So, whose room was this?” Sunset asked. “Was this your sister’s?”
Even as the words left her mouth, it felt so strange to think that Celestia would ever stand to share the same space with the upstart sister who’d sought to overthrow her so long ago.
Celestia’s look was contemplative and wistful. “I see someone’s done her homework,” she replied. “But no, no. Luna got her own tower and room to go with it when she came of age. Sisters, you know how they… well, assert themselves…”
Her voice trailed off, gaze drifting off towards the window. But then she returned it to Sunset, smiling brightly.
“Starswirl had this room made for a future consort,” said Celestia. “He insisted, even after I’d told him I’ve no interest in partners, romantic or otherwise, and I’d have preferred this as a particularly large lounge. I suppose it didn’t help my argument much.”
She shook her head, laughing fondly as if it was some unheard joke. “Ah, Starswirl, how I miss him. I’ve had it as a guest room since, and now it belongs to you.”
“Oh,” Sunset said. “Uh… I see. It’s mine?”
“Of course, Sunset,” said Celestia. “It does need your touch, though. What do you need?”
She had to be careful, now. Who knew how Celestia would react should she ask for more than she deserved.
Finally, Sunset puffed up her chest a little, looking firmly at the alicorn before her.
“Can I repaint the room some time? Blue’s not really my colour.”
The audacity of her. But Celestia did not seem to mind, simply nodding along.
“Oh, don’t you worry about that. I’ll ask Kibitz if anyone’s available to paint this week,” she said, with nothing that resembled hesitation. “Will that be all?”
“Yeah. I guess so, Your Highness.”
“Please, Sunset,” said Celestia. Was that a flush of colour on her porcelain cheeks? “You may call me Celestia. Titles and honourifics are fancy and all, but they do get so stifling.”
“I don’t know,” Sunset said, brow furrowed. “It sounds weird.”
“Only if you’re comfortable, of course,” said Celestia lightly. “Well, I’ll be in my room if you need anything else,” she continued, pointing with a wing towards the door across the hall. “Dinner is in an hour or so, and my, wasn’t that a long day. Have a good rest, Sunset.”
“Yes, Your High–Celestia,” said Sunset. Still the word felt foreign to her, as it did to discard the title the alicorn princess had carried for so long. But Celestia smiled brighter still, and the warmth it gave did not leave Sunset, even as she closed the door behind her.
Now she was alone, all alone, in her own room.
Her own room. Such a strange thought. Sunset had never had a room all to herself before, although, on occasion, her memory conjured the briefest flashes of a crib. A glance at her flank, then at the mural of the Sun above, did much to reassure her. With a happy little skip in her steps and an apple in the grip of her aura, she approached the nearest window.
Before her eyes lay the city. She had never been this high above Canterlot, amongst the clouds and possessing a view many would envy. Birds flew all around, freely. The city’s weather team darted around, dutifully carrying out their work. The crown jewel of Equestria, the heart of a nation many had coveted, yet few had dared to trespass and none had successfully held. An ivory city, to this day, enchanting all who laid eyes upon it and walked its streets.
Then, Sunset saw them. Airships, of many a make and model, carrying flags as far as Neighpon and Saddle Mareabia. So many flew above the city, and here she stood taller than them. With a flick of her horn, she lifted her little model airship above her head, presenting it for all Canterlot.
As Sunset watched in awe of a great airship parting the clouds, she found all was right.
* * * * *
‘Grandiose.’
The word echoed in Cadenza’s mind. It was the best she could use to describe the room presented before her.
It’d been a decently long walk through the Palace halls, past paintings and stained windows and other such fanciful things so foreign to her village, before they’d reached the sprawling room. With Kibitz inspecting her luggage, lined near the door, Cadenza took a ginger few steps inside. Beneath her hooves, where she’d expected wooden boards, there was only polished marble that reflected her vibrant pink coat upon it. From a glance at one corner to the other, illuminated by dim lamps, she saw that the room could perhaps even fit the entirety of her old caretaker’s greenhouse.
‘If you could see me now, Nonna…’
Yet, where there was lush greenery in the greenhouse, and funny little wooden trinkets that old Nonna Espina had kept around her room alongside her humble little bed and chair, here there were neither. The room of marble was white on all sides, a grayish tint to its fancy walls, lamps hanging all around it. A desk of heavy wood and a mirror set upon the wall drew her eyes, making Cadenza wonder who could ever have that much to keep around. Even she, who’d never lacked in the village’s love, carried only two cases filled with personal effects and mementos. Books the Mayor had donated, toys she’d shared with her playmate Benna, even gardening tools Nonna Espina had given her.
A bowl of fruits – apples and oranges and a few bananas – was set upon the low table before her. It was the only true splash of colour here, and for all Cadenza knew these might as well have been the most vibrant fruits ever, so striking to her eyes against the dull marble.
“Mister Kibitz?” Cadenza asked, turning to him. “May I ask, um, whose room this belonged to?”
“Oh, this? Simply a guest suite, Miss Amore,” Kibitz said primly. “But the Princess has arranged for it to be your room.” He offered a comforting smile. “Not to worry, Miss. It’s not quite the busiest season, but when the Summer Sun Celebration comes, plenty of delegates from far and wide will come here. Let me tell you, Miss, they have a lot of stories to tell from faraway lands. I’m sure they’ll be good company.”
That gave Cadenza some pause. She hadn’t even been to Belladonna, Oleander’s lovely capital, let alone mingled amongst its people, with their fancy ways and thoughts alien to her little village. And here Kibitz had spoken so easily of foreign delegates, surely each as formal as the other. Some would be patient. Others would not. And though she’d welcome them with a smile, Cadenza wondered if their hearts would have room for her at all.
But another striking thought passed her by – that of the sight that had greeted her upon entering the Palace. A fiery orange-and-red. A harsh blue glare. An amber coat vibrant and raw. Kibitz had ushered her away soon after she’d spotted these, but the impression remained all too clear.
“The filly I saw,” Cadenza began. “Was that Sunset? Aunt Celestia told me about her. She said she was brilliant.”
Kibitz, for his part, sighed. “Yes, that was indeed Miss Sunset Shimmer. The Princess had refrained from taking her along and… Well, you’ve seen her.”
Cadenza nodded along. “She didn’t look too happy,” she said. “I guess we’ll be having dinner with everyone soon, then?”
She must have let out more of her worry than she’d wanted, as Kibitz raised an eyebrow. “Aye, Miss. Her Royal Highness, Miss Shimmer, and Master Blueblood,” Kibitz recited. “But if Miss Shimmer discomforts you so–”
“Oh, no-no-no,” Cadenza added. “I was actually wondering, could you take me to the dining room right away? I can unpack my luggage myself. But, um… right. Could you teach me how they… eat, in Canterlot?”
The look of surprise on Kibitz’s face brought immediate shame and ridicule to Cadenza. How could it not? She’d kept dragging him around, and now she demanded more with so little time to consider it. But when he spoke, there wasn’t condescension in his voice, merely reassurance.
“Of course, Miss. Proper manners are to be expected, but everyone’s got their first time. What kind of tutor am I, if I cannot teach you something so simple as table manners? It seems we’ll just be getting to that sooner than I’d planned. Well, come along, come along, dinner should be ready in a few hours. Best not to rest on an empty stomach, you see…”
As Cadenza followed, feeling the weight of the grandeur and stuffy decoration of the room, she wondered, empty stomach or no, if she’d be able to sleep at all.
* * * * *
Impossible, Sunset concluded, was the only word. No other word could have described what she was hearing over the past hour, two hours, perhaps even an eternity.
An alicorn ascended in a tiny village so far from all that she knew. A filly who’d achieved the impossible. Most of all, a stranger had found her way in their home. The moment repeated itself over and over in her mind, her thoughts racing to find anything that’d make sense of it all.
But it was the undeniable truth. How had she missed it? How could she have missed it? How obvious it was now, that the pink filly her mother called Mi Amore Cadenza had a pair of wings to go with her horn.
“Sunset?”
Her mother’s voice was eternally calm, placating, yet it felt like a sudden splash of ice-cold water. Sunset shook her head, affecting a cool tone as she tore her gaze away from the window. “Yeah?”
“Are you alright?” her mother asked, growing worried. “You’ve been quiet.”
“I guess. I’m just… thinking about this,” Sunset said. She found little reason to lie. Her mother would know, as she always did. “I mean, hey! It’s not like every day your mom comes in and, and brings some other kid over, right?” She hopped onto her bed, going to sit upon the edge. “Doesn’t that sound weird to you?”
She paused, recalling her mother’s oldest stories. Her mother had always been an alicorn. None had seen another alicorn for a thousand years, and save for obscure myths and legends lost to the fog of ages, there was no such thing as an alicorn other than the Sun and Moon.
“You saw it, didn’t you?” Sunset said, tearing her gaze away, finding the latest model of a Kreme-Brulee airship on her desk far more interesting at the moment. “The ascension.”
Her mother nodded. “With my own eyes,” she said, almost a whisper. “I saw her tread the starry path of the in-between, this child I had never seen. But I saw her, and she saw me, and, at that moment, I knew that she was real, that she was meant to be there… That… she was meant for it.”
Sunset opened her mouth to retort, to snark back, but found nothing that came to her. Her mother’s voice had quivered with each syllable, dripping with wistful longing. Still, doubt rose in her chest, her thoughts turning away from the great aviators of the realm and latest breakthroughs on the field that she’d read in the morning papers.
What sort of student was she to lose to some country filly whose name she’d never heard of, whether it be through her achievements or idle chatter amongst the gentry?
“I thought I was meant to ascend,” Sunset said at last, blankly.
“You are, Sunset, and you will,” said her mother. She’d joined her on the bed, nudging her with an elegant wing. “Have I ever had another student more brilliant and clever? You’ll catch up to her in no time, I’m sure…”
Sweet and kind and always so generous with words, her mother was. But all Sunset answered her with was a roll of her eyes.
“Fine, okay, stop,” Sunset said, pushing the wing away. “I mean I am, but now you’re just laying it on thick, Mom. Exam’s not even going to be for the next few months.”
“Then you’ve plenty of time to study, right?” her mother retorted, laughing. “Oh dear, we’re some lessons short. I owe you a few, don’t I?”
“Now you remember,” Sunset deadpanned. “Come on, Mom. We still have time this week.”
Her mother looked for all the world like someone caught with her hoof in a cookie jar. “Ah… well… Next week, dear.”
“But–my schedule? Mom, we haven’t even finished that transfiguration session yet! Wha–”
The answer came to her just as suddenly as her confusion. Only the second time she’d overlooked this. How could she have forgotten what they’d discussed only two weeks ago…
“I’ll be helping Mi Amore settle in first,” said her mother, biting her lower lip right after, which confirmed all of Sunset’s worst fears.
“She’s staying, isn’t she?” came Sunset’s whispered reply, more a statement than a retort.
“Yes,” her mother answered anyway. “It’s all been arranged, Sunset. Mi Amore’s village isn’t so large and it will take time for her to truly adjust. Kibitz will take charge, but… Well, there are no other alicorns around.”
‘Yet,’ Sunset finished, yet she spoke no further as her mother rose from the bed.
“I’ll be going to Mi Amore’s room soon. I’m sure you’ll like her, she’s just the loveliest,” her mother said, horn glowing bright with her yellow aura. “Just because she’s ahead, doesn’t mean you can’t ask her a few things. Come, Sunset, you’ll miss dinner.”
Many a question passed, many a barbed answer unspoken. Her mother – she’d brought a stranger here, spoken of allowing her to tread where she’d walked and live among them. To hear her own mother speak so freely, so freely of…
“I’m not hungry,” Sunset replied. “Just… I need to think. And study.”
“But Sunset, you know our saying in this house. You can’t think on an empty stomach, can you?” her mother persisted. “These past few weeks have been tense for you, I know it. So won’t you have some pancakes with us?”
Her mother, always so clever, with all the right words. The thought of pancakes was overwhelming. Perhaps it was her growing hunger, too. Sunset could just picture herself, with Celestia and Blueblood and the newcomer, feasting on the best pancakes of the realm, for surely no other pony could cook as well as the Princess of All Equestria.
Then she thought of the filly joining them at the table. The stranger. The alicorn. She who had beaten her to her right, who’d achieved what she and her mother thought was only a dream… Yet what sort of dream walked amongst the living, as real as any pony could be?
‘What exactly are you hiding…’ Sunset thought fleetingly, her mind racing.
Outside her window, the Moon rose in full as the Sun finally disappeared beneath the horizon, the gaze of the Mare in the Moon slowly falling upon the realm as it had for centuries past. Framed by the silver moonlight, Sunset thought she’d never seen her mother look still so lovely, but at the same time, so secretly old.
She had but one answer to give.
“Okay.”
* * * * *
Canterlot dinners were quiet.
Cadenza had never been to such a quiet dinner before. There were, of course, times when few had found stories to share around the campfire or in the village hall, even during their momentous occasions. But never complete and utter silence, such as what she was witnessing. For not a single word was spoken there, between all four of them.
She couldn’t blame them, though. She’d been quiet, too. It was all very new to her.
Her chair was large, larger than even the mayor’s. Even with her new form, she still felt so small in this grand and monumental chamber, larger than the village hall as it was. The ceilings were set very high up above her head, a chandelier hanging down to illuminate the whole dining room with candlelight.
Though it was large, here there were less than half the number of ponies who’d usually attend her village’s nightly feasts. There weren’t even any servants, which surprised Cadenza. Only the four of them, seated around a large, rectangular table covered in a dark red tablecloth.
She recognised Aunt Celestia right away, whom she’d met halfway from her new quarters and who’d escorted her to the dining room. The Princess sat opposite her, idly nibbling on a piece of chocolate cake, neglecting her main course of what looked to be flatbread wrapped around vegetables. The great bird that accompanied her – Philomena, she was called – was perched on her chair, fast asleep.
Right after she finished her slice of cake, Aunt Celestia looked at her, smiling encouragingly. “Go on, Mi Amore. There’s a lot to go around.”
Cadenza answered with a crooked smile. She returned her gaze to the table, where a feast was presented for them. How else to describe it?
There were foods of all kinds there, both familiar and alien, with even those she recognised having an Equestrian flourish to their preparation and presentation. She knew not where to begin outside of her bowl. There were breads, salads, soups, even pasta, but these were the only ones she’d recognised at once. Alongside them were colourful fruits and flowers, white rice, and cassava, among others she couldn’t even name.
She glanced at the blond, white unicorn colt munching on a large sandwich held aloft in his aura. A rather sprightly colt, from the brief moment Cadenza had met him in the hallway. Astron Blueblood was his name, she was told, but he’d insisted on being called Blueblood. Cadenza wondered why when his father had been there as well, and, surely like all gentry, they shared a family name. But then the colt’s father had left to deal with other matters, although Cadenza couldn’t fathom his reasons for skipping dinner with his son.
Not that Prince Astron, or Blueblood, seemed to mind, outside of a quick downcast look Cadenza had spotted for a moment. He went for another bite, loudly, and the thought of his absent father gradually faded from Cadenza’s mind, even if she never quite stopped wondering how a son could know his father and be so far apart from him when she – without parents – had been raised in the care of a village.
Finally, Cadenza’s gaze fell upon the filly to her left.
The filly’s orange-and-red mane remained distinct even under the candlelight. She looked mildly annoyed, her brilliant blue eyes seemingly fixed in a glare, but Cadenza concluded this was simply how she looked most of the time. Her horn was aglow, with the colour of amaranth wrapped around a pair of chopsticks. Sunset had requested a bowl of rice and seaweed when Aunt Celestia offered her pancakes. A confused look from Aunt Celestia told Cadenza this was unusual, but the matter passed, and dinner began as usual.
It awed Cadenza, naturally, to see a pony so elegant with the way she wielded her aura. The chopsticks she held moved smoothly, picking up large clumps of rice just as easily as an earthpony carried lumber. On occasion, Sunset looked to savour even tiny pieces of rice held between them, and from the quick glances she threw her way at times, Cadenza concluded she wished to impress.
‘Well, colour me impressed,’ Cadenza conceded. But that was enough distraction. She had her own food to dine on, and dine she would.
She looked down at her bowl. Of all the food presented, this one was the most familiar – a simple bowl of soup. On tiresome days, whether it was after playtime with Benna or gardening with Nonna Espina, she often welcomed a nice stew of acquacotta, a humble dish of stale bread cooked into a warm broth. But before her was no dish of stale bread and olive oil. It was a thick-looking orange soup of carrots and what Aunt Celestia called lentil.
‘Here goes nothing,’ Cadenza began. With both hooves, she lifted the bowl and took a sip.
It was, to her delight, refreshing. Spicy, with the taste of ground pepper and chilli blending, but nothing she couldn’t handle. The carrot taste was all-too-welcome.
Setting the bowl down after the sip, though, Cadenza saw Sunset staring at her with raised eyebrows and a narrowed glare. She licked her lips a little, feeling some leftovers on them.
‘Oh, silly me…’ she thought, reaching for a napkin and wiping her lips.
Still Sunset’s glare remained, but then she went back to eating her rice, her aura shining all the brighter around her chopsticks.
Ah. There was an idea.
Aunt Celestia had only taught her the bare basics during that week-long boat trip. It was a little confusing at first. But then Aunt Celestia had noted her wings – once stunted, now as healthy as they could ever be – and told her to think of her newfound horn as such. Simply an extension and part of herself.
So she had. And long did they marvel at the first book she’d levitated, enclosed in her blue aura.
A spoon was a different matter. It would require maneuverability. Cadenza furrowed her brow, biting her lip, mustering the drive needed. Aunt Celestia had described a unicorn’s aura as a limb unto itself. Perhaps that was the simplest way to describe it, Cadenza thought, but it was apt enough.
Her horn glowed, her blue aura closing around the spoon. But what Aunt Celestia described was easier to say than it was to actually do, for where her hoof was firm and real, her aura was changing and formless.
The spoon fell to the floor with a loud clatter.
“Sorry,” Cadenza blurted out. She ignored the pointed glances and concerned looks given by the others. Her horn glowed yet again, the aura shimmering brighter, firmer.
‘Okay, okay… You can do this, let’s see…’
Slowly, the spoon levitated. It wobbled, and Cadenza had to hold her wing tight, but it was levitating. Very gently, she took a spoonful of soup, watching the colours stir with it in a spiral. And, finally, very, very slowly, she moved it to her lips and took a long, satisfied sip.
When all was said and done, she gently set the spoon within the bowl. A loud munch from Blueblood told her he’d gone back to his meal. But both Aunt Celestia and Sunset’s gazes remained on her. Cadenza had only a sheepish smile to offer in return.
“Sorry, it’s… new to me. All this.”
That did not seem to concern Aunt Celestia, her tranquil smile growing wider. “Enjoying dinner, Mi Amore?”
But before Cadenza could answer, she caught something. A little tug at her lips. The barest hints of movement at the corner of her eyes, with a hint of wetness threatening to spill.
Cadenza noticed this, just as she had noticed it all the other times Aunt Celestia spoke her name. A very old name, she was told, shared with someone her aunt thought of very fondly…
“I am, yes,” answered Cadenza. “And… It's um, Cadenza.”
Aunt Celestia’s eyes widened. Sunset narrowed her glare. Even Blueblood stopped his meal.
“I… thought it seemed… fitting. Again, it’s all so new to me and…”
She lifted a wing, awkwardly smiling.
“Well. It’s a new me, too.”
Aunt Celestia’s laugh was infectious. “Alright, then,” she said. “Cadenza, wasn’t it? It’s good to meet you, Cadenza.”
Yet whatever reply Cadenza wanted to say vanished in her throat when Sunset stood up from her seat, the wooden chair loudly grinding against the floor.
“I’m done,” Sunset said, huffing. “I’ll be in my room.”
Before anything else could be said, she’d turned around and left, her food half-finished. The door swung shut louder than it ought to have done.
Aunt Celestia stood up, but Cadenza was faster than she.
“It’s okay,” said Cadenza, offering what she’d hoped was a comforting smile. “I’ll go talk to her.”
* * * * *
For a unicorn, Sunset was fast. But Cadenza was faster still. This old Palace was a far cry from the wilderness surrounding her village. Outside the dining room, she called out, right as the other filly was about to descend the staircase.
“Sunset?”
The other filly turned around just as Cadenza’s short gallop came to a halt. She looked up at her from further down the stairs, and suddenly Cadenza felt all too conscious of just how tall she’d become after ascension.
“Hey, um,” Cadenza began, trying her best not to wilt under Sunset’s fiery glare. “Are you okay? You seemed pretty worked up.”
Sunset raised an eyebrow. “I’m fine,” she said, her husky voice even more evident. “Why?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Cadenza replied, feeling her wings ruffle. Sunset glanced at them for a moment. “It’s just that… I feel like we… haven’t been introduced yet.”
“... You just told me your name,” Sunset deadpanned. “At dinner. Not three minutes ago.”
“I know, it’s just… Goodness, everything’s happening so fast, right?”
Silence. Sunset was unwavering. So was she. Before Sunset could say anything, Cadenza raised a hoof.
“Hello. I’m Mi Amore Cadenza. Just Cadenza, for short,” she said, smiling. Sunset looked at her, then at her hoof, then back at her.
Slowly, very slowly, Sunset lifted her own hoof and touched hers. “Sunset Shimmer.”
Both their hooves returned to the stairs. “Right… so, I guess we’re off to… a start. I’m sorry, about earlier. Was it something I said?”
Sunset glared at her again. “No,” she said, though Cadenza swore she could hear some grinding teeth. “I’m just tired.”
“Oh, uh, I’m sorry. I should just… leave you to it.” She paused. “So… are we… cousins?”
That got Sunset’s eyes to widen. “What?”
“Cousins. I mean, I know Celestia said I could call her ‘Aunt’ and… and I heard you call her ‘Mom’. But… I don’t know. Maybe cousins are what we are. Or what we’re supposed to be. I’m not sure. What do you think?”
The look of confusion on Sunset’s face stayed there for a while longer. But eventually, it vanished, replaced by something unreadable.
“Look, Cadenza, I’m tired, okay? It’s been the longest two weeks ever and I really don’t want anyone bothering me.”
“Oh, are you–”
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” the other filly said, huffing. She turned away. “Just go finish your dinner. It’s rude not to.”
“But you haven’t finished yours, either.”
Sunset’s glance was, at once, cold and fiery. “Do I look like I care? Just go, work on your magic or whatever.”
Cadenza had scarcely begun to open her mouth when the filly before her disappeared with a loud, stinging pop that echoed in the empty hall.
* * * * *
Figuring out which room was Cadenza’s had been tedious, but not much of a hassle for Sunset. She knew the guest suites were mostly unoccupied at this time of year. Entering it had been trivial, for the Palace clearly hadn’t been prepared for anyone who could teleport at will and so frequently.
After all, who’d believe them if they spotted the Princess’s faithful student in their room for a half-second?
However, annoyingly, Cadenza’s room was more difficult than expected to find. It was only when Sunset was almost fully spent, feeling a growing headache, that she spotted what could only have been Cadenza’s simple luggage lined against the wall in one of the suites normally occupied by foreign diplomats.
Taking a deep breath, Sunset lit her horn, illuminating the room in her amaranth glow. She took in the sight of the room, and found it… lacking.
Of course, it was to be expected. Cadenza’s luggage was still there, unopened. But therein lay the issue. Unopened. Cadenza hadn’t even spent longer than perhaps a minute within the room.
‘Maybe it just isn’t good enough for her…’ Sunset thought, scoffing. She glanced at the luggage – there were four, maybe five saddlebags in total, all of which looked modest. Fewer in number than she’d have estimated. And smaller.
She rolled her eyes. Of course they were unopened. That silly filly couldn’t even manage to hold her spoon right. With an almost contemptuous flick of her own horn, Sunset opened the one nearest to her.
Gently, she held it afloat, taking great care not to spill its contents. Not that she was avoiding Cadenza’s wrath or whatever, but the fewer questions asked, the better.
‘Books… books, music-box, more books…’
Another suitcase opened, and more books greeted her eyes. Fair enough. Books that looked older than Kibitz, it seemed. No doubt that Cadenza had taken them from the village library, or what passed for one. Some were in Modern Equish. Most were in Oleandrite.
Cadenza had only brought a few books unrelated to learning, perhaps two or three novels. A biography of one of Oleander’s most famous leaders was filed away under mathematics – goodness, the organisation was frightfully lacking. A familiar book on Equestrian aviators, though – that got Sunset to raise an eyebrow.
‘Pioneers of the Wind and Sky…’ Sunset silently read.
On its cover, matching her edition from ten years ago, was an elegant illustration depicting Commander Hurricane. The Commander was flanked by Vice-Admiral Gale Glider, first leader of Equestria’s Coast Guard, and Hallow Mount, the first earthpony to take to the skies with her famed sky-boat. All three were looking towards the skies, dreaming, longing…
It was a well-read book, too. Fewer bookmarks than her copy, but Sunset could tell from a glance that Cadenza had bookmarked the great explorer Air Heart and the stunted inventor Barrel Roll.
But then, she froze. She’d looked at the suitcase again, catching sight of another book. She’d recognise that obnoxiously coloured cover anywhere.
Now, she’d feared what she was seeing was a trick of the eye. An aberration. A mistake. But here, Sunset came to a conclusion she found most disconcerting. She took a deep, deep breath.
“... Seriously?”
* * * * *
"I can't believe this. I can’t believe her. I can’t believe… argh!”
In the palace gardens, Sunset Shimmer planted her face into the ground. A peck on her neck by Philomena got her to lift her head. The phoenix tilted her head, letting out a little chirp.
Blueblood, on the other hoof, did little, for he was unmoving from his usual spot against the old willow tree. Sunset remained undeterred, standing up straight with one of her huffs.
“She barely keeps anything around, and did you see her eating like an earthpony, Bluey? She couldn’t even levitate that dumb spoon right. Something just isn't right with her."
That, of all things, got Blueblood to open his mouth.
“But I thought you don’t mind earthponies? I mean, she is from Oleander. Besides, you go to that flower-shop just–”
“I don’t mind them! It’s just– that’s not what I’m saying. But… argh. What even is she, then? How is she like this? Who even reads Magic for Fillies?”
The book had been a blight for her in her early months. So many instructors insisted on her following the exact guidelines when she knew she’d long understood what meaning lay behind the instructions. She loathed the yellow colour and cheery faces adorning it.
Stupid book.
“...Fillies?” Blueblood replied.
“That’s not my point,” Sunset hissed. “How’d she manage this? How did she become an alicorn?”
To her endless frustration, Blueblood merely shrugged it off.
“I dunno,” he said. “Funny how a pegasus got it, though.”
Sunset’s ears flicked. “What?”
“Yeah, I think she used to be a pegasus?” Blueblood added. “You said she had a book on flight and that sort of stuff. I wouldn’t count out her being an earthpony, seeing as she’s from Oleander. Hey, do you think she’d read about Blueblood the Challenger? Maybe I gotta ask her, heh-heh…”
Sunset had stopped listening by then, her eyes wide as saucers. How could she have been so blind? The lack of finesse or control, the little nervous tugs at her wings, and so few books on magical theory and practices…
‘A pegasus… but how?’ she wondered, almost whispering it out as a dismayed question. ‘How–’
“I don’t get it”, Sunset said. “If she’s a pegasus, then… Oleander? Oleander’s a nation of earthponies. Where did she come from?”
“Beats me,” Blueblood said, shrugging again, “but you could ask Auntie, right? Honestly, Sunny, I think that you’re getting a bit too worked up over this. Just relax, you’re in the garden, what else is there to do here?”
“Yeah, as if Mom’s gonna answer…”
The question remained, a constant irritation. How did a filly from the countryside, born a pegasus, raised amongst earthponies, achieve what many a unicorn mage, zebra witch-doctor, or great horse sorcerer of Saddle Mareabia had long sought so fruitlessly?
Whatever it had been, a mean thought crept in. Cadenza was discomforted by merely a day in Canterlot. Who was to say that she wouldn’t leave on her own soon enough?
“No, you’re right,” Sunset said, relaxing, giving Philomena an affectionate pat. “I’m spending too much time, too much energy on this.”
She glanced up at the diplomatic quarters, second window to the right, where she knew Cadenza would be staying.
“I’ll just ignore her.”
