Sunset Shimmer found herself nostalgic for the simple pleasures of being alive. It was the little things, really. Having a pulse, breathing—not standing in the vast expanse of space with nothing underneath her hooves but an invisible walkway born of stars. As the void of space stretched out timelessly into the great beyond, twinkling the answers and many more questions to life’s most peculiar and beautiful quantum quandaries about mankind's place in the universe, Sunset missed having any body at all.
Had her soul been transported to the Equestrian afterlife? The thought came to mind that she would have a death certificate in one dimension and a birth certificate in another. Wow, yeah, no wonder the Fates hate me. I’m a logistical nightmare.
The atmosphere refrigerated her soul like putting a severed limb on ice, but without an actual body to feel the sensation of cold, she could really only guesstimate the depths a thermometer would have to reach.
She could even see the tear in space-time far up ahead or rather the other side of it. A crack spanning across the milky blue night.
My friends. Her eyes widened. This was the other side of the tear in the sky. If she looked hard enough, she could see where King Sombra had attempted to pry it open, light peaking through. Sunset had no idea where she was or what got her here, but if this was some stage of the Equestrian afterlife, the magical potential must have been unlimited. I have to warn them! I have to keep it closed!
But Sunset wasn’t alone in the universe.
The voice that came to her then felt equally as displaced from time as she was, like a home she hadn’t lived in for years. Much like going back to Canterlot Castle for the first time in years—longer than she’d ever meant to go without coming home—where the halls she’d ruled and taken for granted in the most comforting normalcy had at some point, without her permission, lived on. And from that point forward, returning became a host of strange reminders of a life she used to live that she could only visit now.
Sunset Shimmer heard that enigmatically good-humoured smile echoing around her as Princess Celestia said, “Congratulations, Sunset. You always find new ways to surprise me.”
Sure enough, when Sunset turned toward the sound, her old mentor waited ahead.
Sunset bowed and faltered. “Princess? Is it really you?”
The Princess reached down to hold Sunset’s cheek in her hoof. “Yes,” she promised. “I’ve missed you while you’ve been gone. I hope you don’t mind the interruption. Summoning spells have a great many uses, as I’m sure you remember.”
“Yeah,” Sunset chuckled, wondering if her blush was even showing up on her phantasmal cheeks. Even without a physical form, the memory came back to her: how it felt as a little filly to have a cheek pressed to the Princess’s rising and falling chest as the ruler of the free world read aloud wondrous myths and legends to help her sleep. “I remember.”
Princess Celestia smiled just that much wider. She seemed to be studying Sunset then, probably thinking years ahead in the chess game of her life. What battle plans did she have in store for her now? “It’s nothing short of remarkable to see how far you’ve come. I’ve always hoped you would find your way back to the light, but even I never could have anticipated what you’d do once you returned.”
The swell of emotions from hearing the Princess speak was accompanied by a small urgent voice in Sunset’s head. My friends need me. She boggled down at her hooves and the thousands of miles of space below. “Princess, where are we? I have to get back to my friends. What happened to me?”
Princess Celestia’s expression shifted to something distantly sad. Whatever star had been twinkling in her eyes burned out, collapsed in on itself, and in its place, left behind a gaping black hole.
The weight of that star burned in Sunset’s throat, too.
She recognized that look. Over the years she’d seen the Princess hang the moon alone or spare longing looks at the statues of heroes in the garden or spend her precious few free nights pouring over Starswirl’s works for any sign of where he’d gone. The artist's renderings of Celestia’s mother and father hung forevermore in the castle’s dining hall.
Even at her very worst—even when Sunset became so drunk on ego and power-lust and she thought the princess hated her—Sunset suffered stabs of guilt knowing she’d become another name without a gravestone for Princess Celestia to grieve.
Sunset looked down at her translucent hooves. She could see the stars through herself, as if sneaking a peek into the primordial stardust that made her up. But she didn’t have a body anymore. She’d burned alive.
Sunset’s features fell. “I’m so sorry.”
Princess Celestia shook her head. “You have nothing to apologize for. I knew you were mortal,” she said, though grief weighed down the words. “I suppose deep down I knew it would have to happen eventually.” She almost found a smile. “You lead such a bold life.”
“Yeah. I’m a powderkeg. And we always knew I had a short-fuse...” Sunset said to her, but then it occurred to her that she had the chance to say anything. A shot of panic rattled through her nonexistent bones thinking about what she really wanted to say to the princess. Instead, she asked, “How in Equestria did you summon me to talk to you? How is that even possible?”
“You could say I called in a favour,” Princess Celestia said, striding ahead on echoing golden slippers and then left it at that.
Sunset supposed she should be grateful the princess found a way at all—and it wasn’t like Sunset was a stranger to making herself an exception to divine forces beyond her understanding… today. But sometimes, like when her friends were in dire straits and may well join her in the afterlife, Sunset could use a little more exposition.
As it was, she found herself remembering precisely how aggravating it was to be subject to Celestia’s mystic wisdom and cryptic clues. Is it really that hard to use your words?
She elected not to think about how she’d ever begin to say that she’d thought about Princess Celestia as a mother figure last time she was on death’s door. Or the fact that she was undeniably through death’s threshold and barely clinging onto death’s door frame to be able to even have this conversation.
Even if Sunset couldn’t take deep breaths without a body, she reminded herself she really shouldn’t mouth off to the Princess in maybe their last conversation ever.
Sunset eyed the tear in space-time. It killed her all over again to know they might need her, but even a princess couldn’t bring a pony back to life. She’d left them without saying goodbye. The only goodbye she had left was this one with Celestia, a lone chance to spend this last time before she met her Time’s End.
Joining her ex-mentor for a stroll through the stars, Sunset did everything in her power to focus on the present moment. A younger Sunset would have scoffed at heeding her teacher’s spiritual hokum, but in this case, she literally did only have this one moment. Her past was not today. The future ahead, uncertain at best.
All she had was one last stargazing trip with Princess Celestia.
They ambled on at a leisurely pace, the quiet almost too perfect to break. Sunset craned her neck up. Thousands of stars hung in unknowably dark distances and depths struck her thoughtless. Mesmerized by heavens untold, unseen worlds, and immeasurable potential.
When Sunset spoke again, she heard her voice come out much quieter, as if it was after lights out back at the castle. She leaned toward her old mentor. “Hey. Remember those astronomy lessons you used to give me out on the balcony?”
Princess Celestia smiled, raising a royal eyebrow. “I do indeed. I’m only surprised you remember. You were a very young little filly at the time.”
“Give me a little credit. I did learn a few things as your student,” Sunset boasted, then pointed up at the open atmosphere. She could feel her teacher’s smiling eyes staying on her even still. “That cluster there? Gotta be the Sorcerer, Starswirl. I’d bet my last bits on it. Next to him is Draconis Major. And if I remember our lessons, that’s the Phoenix. The brightest stars in the sky.”
A tender smile dawned on Celestia’s face. “Your favourite.”
Sunset blinked. “It was?”
“Oh yes. You wanted to hear its story each and every time we spoke about the stars, even though you must have had it memorized. Such a stubborn little filly. So strong-willed.” Celestia seemed delighted to have a chance to talk about that time again, to indulge a little bit. Sunset didn’t mind hearing it, either. The Princess chuckled, almost to herself. “Of course, it shouldn’t have surprised me when you snuck an orphaned baby phoenix with a broken wing back to the castle. Those tapestries were priceless, you know.”
Sunset laughed. She could imagine talking like this for hours, but then, she suspected they didn’t have hours to spend anymore. Tell her what she means to you. Be a big filly, talk about your feelings. “...Princess?”
Princess Celestia seemed to quite enjoy stargazing, but she, too, seemed to know their time together was limited. She guided her ex-student onwards. “Follow me, little sun.”
Sunset’s heart snagged behind. Little sun? She couldn’t honestly say it had been years, if she counted the Fate echoing Celestia back at her, but Sunset still managed a shaken chuckle. “Wow. Feeling nostalgic, huh?”
The pathway of stars became a hall, and that hall filled with light, walled on either side by memories all throughout Sunset Shimmer’s life, like TV screens late into the night. If Sunset looked, she could see those ever-changing scenes and found herself stunned still to see moments from her time in Equestria and on Earth play out in better detail than she could ever possibly remember them.
Princess Celestia offered a smile. “You could say that.”
Awestruck, Sunset wandered up to a memory of her reaching out for Midnight Sparkle’s hand. As Twilight reached her hand back, Sunset outstretched a hoof to the screen and found it ripple with static at her touch, only settling when she took her hoof away. “Where did you say we are right now…?”
The Princess seemed to be savouring a memory of her giving a tiny filly Sunset a bubble bath in the royal wishing fountain outdoors (to the disgruntlement and humbuggery of Kibitz). The little Sunset even had a rubber phoenix. “A place of great power.”
Sunset’s eyelids fell to half-mast, but she tried to let out a frustrated chuckle instead of exploding. “Sounds about right.”
As they journeyed through Sunset’s lifespan, Sunset noticed a few out of place memories along the line. Most of them were hers, albeit weirdly from a third person perspective, but every once and a while she could spot someone else’s. Gloriosa Daisy’s stress over losing the camp. Wallflower’s lonely years and discovery of the Memory Stone.
And a young Solstice Shiver, holding his breath behind the curtain of a stage and watching the performance go on without him. Her heart burned for them still.
If Celestia noticed these misplaced memories, she didn’t comment on them. She was content to watch a teenage Sunset sneak her first swig of alcohol on Mount Olympus. “Hmm. I knew that ‘headache’ the next day made your eyes too sensitive to my sunrise.”
Sunset grinned sheepishly. “Heh heh, oh wow, was that alcoholic? I didn’t even notice…”
“Mm-hmm,” Celestia hummed, chuckling to herself, “of course you didn’t. You always were the picture of obedience, weren’t you? Just as I’m sure you also were aware that underage drinking could have resulted in night’s sleep with a stone pillow in the castle dungeons.”
Sunset stared at her, but more than anything because she hadn’t heard the Princess laugh that lightly—especially not over disciplinary actions. She could still remember being lectured at in that stern, warlike tone that truly taught her the fear of Celestia. Even as she laughed along with Celestia now, she half-expected the guillotine to come barreling down. “Haha, yup… castle dungeons…”
The Princess let her eyes rest on a memory of a young Sunset too small for her armour (it didn’t help that Sunset had been short for her age) practicing combat magic alongside watchful royal guards against a poorly-sewn Nightmare Moon dummy for hours on end. “I can’t say I approve. Although, I am glad you’re finally old enough that I can say how relieved I am that you never rebelled quite as hard as I did at your age. And a bit older...”
Sunset burst out laughing in full. “What? Running away to another dimension isn’t rebellious enough for you?”
“Well, apart from the rebellions of my younger years I likely shouldn’t divulge unless I wanted to wind up in the castle dungeons, I may have run away to other dimensions multiple times in my time. Love makes foals of us all, as they say.” The Princess shook her head, tsking at herself. “Oh, I gave Starswirl such trouble, his poor old heart…”
Sunset whistled. “Dang, I didn’t know you had an interdimensional love affair. Gross that it’s you, but kind of cool.” Sunset also remembered then that part of the reason she’d wanted to stay in the human world was a love affair of her own. She decided not to think anymore. She raised an eyebrow. “I’m guessing things didn’t work out long space-time?”
Celestia’s smile was tinged with the colour of lost happiness, as a lot of her smiles were. Regal and lonesome. “That world’s King Sombra and I found a surprising rapport.” She seemed to interpret Sunset’s surprise in her own way. “He was a gentle soul, I promise. I’d taken partners before him, in the past, but he was the first love I’d had in a very long time. Not long before you would have been born, I didn't have a student at the time to chase down the castle halls. We did everything in our power to stay together,” the Princess told her, “but even immortal demigods can’t escape themselves forever.”
Sunset nodded, but she was getting a sinking sense of doom and she couldn’t place why. “Sorry to hear that…”
Then, Princess Celestia finally seemed to allow herself to look to the memories Sunset had made in the human dimension. Laughs shared over the lunch table with the girls. Video games and pizza with Flash. Watching fireworks at the Fall Fair with her new girlfriend. Even exploring Vanhoover with Timber, trying to convince the goofus they could visit the seawall on another trip.
Sunset missed them already and desperately hoped they’d take care of each other as they grieved her. The Princess had to lay a hoof on her shoulder to get her to come along and seemed a bit surprised how taken she was with those memories.
“You should feel proud of everything you’ve accomplished,” the princess said through the sunny summer afternoon warmth of her smile. “So many lives touched, such personal growth. You’ve come so far from who you once were, and I can’t think of anypony who deserves a second chance more than you.”
Sunset stopped. If she had lungs—and logically she knew she didn’t—the air would have been walloped out in one swift hit. But that hit felt… nice.
Knowing this might be the last time they spoke, Sunset needed more words for it than nice.
“Thank you,” she started, sounding not quite herself. She wondered how many times she’d actually thanked the Princess. “They… they mean a lot to me. I wish I didn’t make their lives so complicated.”
Princess Celestia raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“Their world isn’t meant to have magic,” she said, watching herself see Twilight and Timber dancing at the Crystal Ball benefit dance at Camp Everfree. “I wasn't the first, but since I got there, magic has been causing so many problems. It’s my fault for opening up the floodgates so wide, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps,” Princess Celestia allowed, but her tone suggested otherwise.
Sunset followed her gaze to scenes of the girls coming together in the face of the Sirens, hanging out in the halls of Canterlot High, and a whole school chanting her name before she died. She looked again to see Twilight tell Timber, “I’m really glad I met you.”
Sunset’s eyebrows lifted. They wouldn’t have met without her. Without magic.
As they went onwards, Sunset was stunned to think of how many of her friends would have been worse off without her. Sure, Twilight would have never become Midnight Sparkle, but she'd still be alone and oblivious to what she was missing at Crystal Prep. Wallflower might still be ignored and invisible. Timber and Gloriosa would have lost the camp. Magic gave her friends a chance to be their truest selves, and all of Canterlot High came together to become a community.
She passed them singing in the cafeteria together as if to prove it, the absolute dorks.
The Princess guided Sunset through her life blissfully unaware, pleased to watch a toddler Sunset with her very own Celestia as the two kept making silly faces every time the portraiture painter looked away. “Before we go on, if I could steal a moment with you, I must say how truly excited I am to have more time for the important things.”
“Oh yeah?” Sunset’s eyes drifted back to the time a tweenage Sunset got to kick off the opening ceremonies of the Canterlot Summer Sun Celebration, introducing her mentor to the stage, and got a kick out of the ponies of Canterlot cheering her on but couldn’t show it. But then Sunset frowned. “More time?”
“In retirement, of course,” Princess Celestia said, smiling down to her as if what she said wasn’t a heart attack in six syllables.
Sunset gawked at her and the fact that she’d said those words seriously. “I’m sorry what?”
“My sister and I plan to retreat and enjoy the nation we’ve spent so long nurturing.” The soon-to-be Ex-Princess seemed to see beyond the Great Beyond to the shores and cityscapes of her homeland and all the experiences she’d had yet to have in thousands of years of life. “I, for one, greatly look forward to meeting more of the citizens we’ve aimed to serve. Perhaps I’ll finally even take my own advice; it might be nice to make some friends.”
Thinking back and now quite literally looking back over her shoulder to the times when the princess had been held prisoner in her own towers by bureaucracy and aristocracy, Sunset had to admit she’d known this was long overdue for ages now. Probably hundreds of years longer than Sunset herself had been alive.
Even still, something about the idea of her ex-teacher retiring felt… nightmarish. Twisted in strange, unfamiliar, and frankly nonsensical ways that she wished she could wake up from.
Sunset hated that she felt that way when she’d been striving to take the load off of the Princess’s back since she was small. But she did, and she wasn’t in the business of denying her feelings anymore. “Well, that’s great, Princess, but are you sure that’s what you want? Don’t you think the ponies of Equestria would be upset to lose the leader they’ve had for a millennia?”
Princess Celestia hummed. “I think learning how to say goodbye is a valuable lesson.”
A shock left her especially feeling dead in the knees. She changed tactics, thinking on her hooves. “I know I make a lot of jokes about how ancient you are—”
A brief prickle flashed across Celestia’s face that Sunset usually enjoyed as she muttered, “Must you use the word ancient?”
“—but I’m not going to actually have to put you in a home, right?” It was a joke, sure, but that was the only non-lethal way Sunset knew about asking if she should be worried. Or more worried, as the case may have been.
The princess seemed to get it, even if her tone was a bit snippy. “Thankfully, I am fully capable of taking care of myself. In fact, I’ll have more time to do so.”
Sunset couldn’t argue with the fact that the princess could seriously use some lessons in self-care. She tried again, “Okay, but with international relations as turbulent as they are—”
“Actually, things couldn’t be more different than how you might remember them. Our relationships with other cultures have never been better!” She unfurled a smile like a scroll. “We have Twilight and her friends to thank for that.”
Of course we do. “Okay, but you don’t have to retire just because Princess Twilight’s taking over. You could, I don’t know, stay on and… rule alongside her?” She winced. If she searched through the screens of her memories, she suspected she’d find herself daydreaming about doing just that with the princess. Side by side. Them against the world (or, rather, them for the world). “I bet Princess Twilight would love the time together.”
“Oh, not to worry. There’ll be time enough to spend time with all my loved ones,” she said, as if she thought that was too good to be true. “And I’ve made sure to spend as much time as I could afford preparing Twilight. I have every confidence in her abilities.”
Not unlike when she received the invitation to Twilight’s coronation, Sunset’s heart stung, heavy in her lack-of-a-chest and burning hot like a star had replaced it.
The thing was, Sunset knew how this would have gone if she was as young and stupid as she was in the screen they’d stopped at: a fourteen-year-old foal being ex-communicated as Princess Celestia’s student and running away to another dimension. She didn’t have to look far to see her pride turn to entitlement, and her anger to dangerous spite and impulsiveness.
She could see more fights if she looked for them in her memories. They ran the gamut from temper tantrums to shouting matches to icy silence across the overlong dinner table. But this one would always burn through her memories the brightest.
She could easily imagine herself starting a fight now. Getting upset, working herself up. A defiant anger waited for her to go on the attack.
The Princess followed her gaze to that particular scene, and her expression grew distant, unreadable. She watched as Sunset hid her tears where the guards escorting her out of the throne room couldn’t see and the mad dash to the mirror.
Sunset didn’t have to rewatch their fights to know what led up to that and to guess how the Princess felt about her about then. She sometimes wondered if the Princess only forgave her for the civility of it all, or for Princess Twilight’s sake who’d been in the room at the time—of course Princess Twilight should get to see that, no matter what, no matter how bad things got, Princess Celestia was forgiving, merciful, and kind. She should get to see her love was unconditional.
Sunset Shimmer thought of a better word than nice.
Sunset took in a breath, or performed the motion even if she had no lungs for the air to fill. “Princess?”
The princess struggled to pull her eyes away from the train wreck that Sunset used to be. Out of all the memories here, she seemed transfixed, watching Sunset travel to the human world for the first time and trap herself there for thirty moons.
Sunset came up next to her and fumbled for the words. “It’s great that you’ll have more time now. I saw that Princess Twilight’s coronation invitation had this signoff ‘from the desk of the royal family.’ And it still sounds weird to me. Royal family. But that’s… amazing.”
Sunset saw herself on the screen calling out for Princess Celestia, scared and confused that she’d exiled herself somewhere totally unreachable. She saw Celestia bow her head.
Sunset searched for any conceivable way to make what she had to say next not sound as big as it felt. “I didn’t have those words growing up. I didn’t know you could make family; that’s still pretty new to me, but you can. I’ve seen it. And I’m glad you’ve made a new family while I’ve been gone. But, I don’t know...” Sunset forced herself to stay next to Princess Celestia and say the words she’d been running from for a long, long time. “I always thought... we were a family.”
When she managed to say those words out loud and hold Princess Celestia’s gaze, Sunset Shimmer could feel her own lack of a heartbeat. Her chest was so still. Breath stopped at the gate.
Princess Celestia seemed breathless, too, and for long enough that Sunset’s heart started to sink, and she regretted ever letting the words come out of her mouth until Celestia smiled through eyes shining with tears and starlight. “After everything, you still find new ways to surprise me, little sun.”
The princess and the ghost of her former student embraced in endless space.
Sunset could hardly feel the wings around her or the hoof rubbing her back so she held on tighter, but she could hear the tender warmth in Celestia’s voice. “You’re more right than you know,” she said. “Ever since I invited you to live at the castle, watching you learn and grow into your own pony, I wished I could give you the world. Sometimes, I may have spoiled you a bit, but there was so much more I couldn’t or… didn’t give you.”
Sunset shook her head. “You already gave me a castle.”
“You deserved a family, Sunset,” Princess Celestia told her, and that hit Sunset in a way she couldn’t recover from. Light streaked down her cheeks in place of tears, burning her eyes. Celestia wiped it away just the same, still holding her close. “I could never let myself think of having a family of my own when all of Equestria needed me. I can be sentimental—”
“In your old age?”
“Don’t push it,” she instructed gently, but her expression softened to a degree Sunset never expected to see in the leader of the free world. “I meant I dreamed of having a daughter.”
Sunset’s ghost tried to take in air that wouldn’t come, brows slamming together.
“But what are my dreams next to protecting every dream in Equestria?” There was such sweet gravity to the sadness in her eyes. Caught in a millennia of revolutions. “We had a prophecy to fulfil, a war to prevent, and duties to attend to. Wartime makes us practical, but perhaps, shortsighted.
“Even when it broke my heart to keep you at a distance, I knew it was for the greater good to serve the greatest amount of ponies. Or, I thought it was. And when I saw that you’d built a life in your new home...” Celestia hid that sadness well behind a serene smile. “I stopped letting myself hope you felt the same.”
Sunset scrubbed at her eye and mewled. “Princess…”
“You know you won’t be able to call me that much longer,” Princess Celestia told her. “We could find a new title, if you’re not comfortable using my name.”
But Sunset wasn’t about to bypass what she’d said. “You make it sound like I forgot about you. I spent all that time in exile thinking about how to get back to you. I have a new family, but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever forget about you. You’ll always matter to me. Always. Please remember that.”
The princess looked hurt by how much he needed to hear that. “...Thank you, Sunset.” She wiped her tears away, smiling. “I suppose it’s always hard when a young filly becomes an independent mare, but nopony prepares you for when she becomes so independent she moves away to another universe.”
As the hall of memories faded, a surge of panic rushed to find Sunset’s bones to jolt her into action, but she had none. No bodies left, no time in the hourglass.
The tear in space-time crept upon them in all their wandering and now stood as the backdrop to Sunset’s final moments above the underworld.
Two figures emerged from the unending night, and Sunset recognized them but almost couldn’t trust herself to identify the faces. Unsurprised, Celestia joined them. Princess Luna, Princess Twilight, and Princess Celestia exchanged knowing looks before Celestia chuckled. “Well. This has certainly been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”
Sunset approached with some amount of caution. “What has?”
Sunset found herself relieved to see Twilight dorkishly waving to her—as if Sunset wouldn’t notice one of the only other beings in a wide open ethereal plain—as she beamed through sniffly tears. “Sunset, we’re so proud of you! Congratulations!”
Princess Luna nodded with a sage smile. “From everything I’ve heard, you would have made a truly worthy adversary.” Her brilliant teeth popped against the midnight blue of her coat. “And friend. Congratulations.”
“For what?” If Sunset didn’t get solid answers for once, she swore she’d die from the dread.
Looking eager enough to burst, Twilight looked to Celestia who smiled, nodding. “Go ahead, Twilight. You are her teacher, after all.”
Twilight made a noise Sunset didn’t quite know how to classify, but it sounded dangerous. “Okay,” she said, and took a deep breath to gain any sense of composure. It worked, to Sunset’s shock and awe.
Twilight took a few steps toward her. “Sunset Shimmer, in the time that I’ve known you, you’ve completely transformed yourself. I watched you humble yourself, overcome your demons, and earn a place in the hearts of those you once hurt.”
As the princess spoke, she pointed beyond Sunset’s shoulder, and she turned to see the familiar scenes: herself, crying at the edge of a crater, taking Princess Twilight’s hand. Singing alongside her at the Battle of the Bands.
“You not only did the hard work of becoming a kinder, more compassionate version of yourself, but offered that understanding to others!”
Reaching out her own hand to Midnight Sparkle. Teaching her friends to embrace their magic and individuality. Fighting alongside her superpowered friends, or sacrificing herself to the Memory Stone’s blast.
Princess Twilight giggled at her, eyelids settling halfway down. “You don’t even know how many lives you’ve impacted, do you?”
A galaxy of smaller screens burst to life around them. Little flashes in a lifespan. Microchips bumped fists with Sandalwood. Juniper finally told off her boss at the movie theatre. Trixie assisted Wallflower with the yearbook. Flash jamming with his bandmates, Timber and Twilight surrounded by fireflies, Rarity and AJ enjoying caramel apples in the park, even the Sirens collaborated with PostCrush—and on and on it went, so many she could barely fathom them all.
All of this… was because of me?
Sunset twisted back around to the princess. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re a good friend, Sunset.” Princess Twilight’s hooves echoed out among the stars as she approached Sunset Shimmer. “Your empathy sets you apart as the worthy leader you are. I’m so proud to call myself your friend.” She held her heart, as if feeling Sunset’s place in it. “And I’m forever grateful I got to go on your journey with you.”
Sunset Shimmer watched the Princess of Friendship, soon to be queen of Equestria, raise her horn to the stars above, and in a flash of angelic light, produce a shining, golden crown. Glimmering in the starlight, the ruby and amber embedded in the gold formed the shape of Sunset’s cutie mark.
Princess Twilight bowed to her as the crown lowered to Sunset’s height and smiled as she held it out for Sunset to take.
Sunset raised her disbelieving eyes to the princesses.
The Royal Family waited ahead. Princess Celestia gave her the smile that could warm the farthest reaches of space and reach across dimensions, nodding to her.
Breath stalling, Sunset took the crown in her hooves from Twilight. “...You sure you trust me not to steal this?”
Twilight giggled. “Yes. It would be pretty difficult to steal something that belongs to you.”
…A Princess in Equestria?
How many years had Sunset spent working towards this? How long did she spend dreaming, striving, desperate and hoping beyond all reason to have this crown in her hooves? How long had she dreamed of arriving at this moment, in a place like this with the power to make a pony into an alicorn?
Her eyes tore away to the broken, cracked sky and danced there. Her friends and their world hung in the balance behind that tear, and until now she’d only ever dreaded what was on the other side. But now that she knew what the unthinkable magical power that would be unleashed…
Sunset considered the crown’s gold shimmer in her ghostly hooves. She caught her reflection in the metal under her cutie mark and saw the golden unicorn who thought she was owed a grand, magical destiny, and couldn’t see how it was owning her.
Now in human form, Sunset’s ghost thumbed the crown and smiled at her fondly. Then at the princesses. “Thank you,” she told them. “This was all I ever wanted. It’s such an honour, really, but… you know me.” She tossed the crown back to Princess Twilight. “I play by my own rules.”
As soon as Sunset made her choice, a magical light too brilliant to stare directly at lifted her into the air. She could feel it suspending her by the spine, and as the light swirled around her, she felt a scorching at her back. Two feathered limbs she’d never had before today burned brightly into existence and when Sunset Shimmer touched back down she flexed the phoenix fire wings at her back.
Then she saw Princess Celestia’s sadness.
The fire snuffed itself out to reveal soft feathers and a soft smile on her face when she caught the princesses’ reactions. Princess Twilight shook her head, blinking at the crown and then Sunset, and in a small voice asked, “But… is this because you don’t want to share a coronation? You can have your own.”
“It’s okay, Twilight,” she chuckled and reached out to hold one of Twilight’s hooves in both her hands. “You’re going to have an amazing coronation, and you’ll be the princess Equestria deserves. I believe in you.” She smirked. “Even when it’s hard.” And then smiled more genuinely. “You have my blessing.”
Princess Twilight gave her a small smile and held Sunset’s crown close to her chest. “Thank you.”
Princess Luna mostly seemed amused. “I quite like your style.”
Eyeing the crack in the sky, Sunset fired up her wings, igniting her magic, and took to the air. Before she could lose her courage, she told Princess Celestia, current leader of the free world, “See you later, Mom.”
Sunset soared through the depths of space, charging toward the crack in the sky at full speed with all the power in her body, building behind the idea that she knew exactly who she was: she was Sunset Shimmer, and she made her own families and destinies. And as she plunged, propelling through unspeakable momentum, a fist overhead, she thought she'd seen the princess smile.
Then, Sunset broke the sky.