When Princess Celestia asked to see Sunset Shimmer in the west solarium, Sunset had taken it as a compliment.
The west solarium was far different than the east: while the east was a stunning edifice of glass and gold that was perfectly aligned to see Celestia's sunrise and capture those first rays within, the west was a firmer, darker construction with the sunset in mind. Rather than floor to ceiling windows and golden surfaces polished to a mirror sheen, the west solarium's windowed ceiling and walls ended knee-height above the floor in thick gray marble. A pony sitting inside wouldn't actually be able to see the sun pass below the horizon as the glass ended and stone begin approximately thirty seconds of height before the sun's lowest point touched the land.
The furniture, as well, was quite different. The east was filled with treasured heirlooms, artwork, and priceless gifts from nobles and rulers long dead. The west? It was utilitarian: stout wooden furniture, walls cushioned by tapestries, thick rugs, and books on dark shelves. East was open and airy; west was stoic and dour. Their scents were even different, as the east perpetually smelled of fruit and springtime flowers, while the west bore the deep-seated scents of coffee and lavender that had sunk into the upholstery.
But what most ponies didn't pay attention to was the room's history. Princess Celestia often received dignitaries in the east solarium, greeting them as she raised the sun and chatting with them over breakfast. The west solarium had a different set of visitors. It was that room which bore the dubious distinction as home to ninety percent of the in-palace assassination attempts on the Princess - some speculated that attackers loved the room's muffled acoustics and accessible hiding spots, but Sunset had her own ideas. It was also where Celestia preferred to meet with foreign emissaries from unfriendly powers, and where the rebellious among the nobility came. East was always a friendly conversation; west was for dangers. It was a place of power for Princess Celestia, and where she confronted those she considered threats.
Sunset Shimmer liked being a threat. It meant she was on the right track.
She held her head high as she entered - chin up, neck straight, eyes set dead ahead. Princess Celestia was waiting for her, not yet seated as she checked the time on a contraption that was half clock, half astrolabe. Setting the sun would happen soon, and the Princess was likely calculating just how long she could spend on this confrontation before doing her duty.
There was no doubting the subject of their talk: it had never been a question of if Celestia would find out about the impending date, merely when. It was a victory that she hadn't figured out Sunset's plan until after Cadance accepted and the outing was set. Now there was no interfering without tipping her gilded hoof, and Princess Celestia could never abide that - she ironically always moved in shadow and spoke in metaphor, preferring to nudge rather than push. Direct confrontation wasn't her way and that was exploitable.
So Sunset crossed the room with high confidence, taking a seat in a sturdy walnut chair opposite the larger bench that had been built for an alicorn. No words were said yet, letting Celestia (for once) take control of the conversation.
She did - after nearly a minute of thought. Moving away from the clock with the grace of an angel, Princess Celestia practically floated to the padded bench. Laying her self down was art, quite literally - some of Equestria's greatest painters and sculptors had used that motion as their inspiration. She settled into the deep velvet cushions, wings giving a perfunctory rustle as they adjusted to her new position. Then, with a falsely friendly tone, she finally spoke. "Princess Cadance tells me that you and she intend to go out for the Festival, and will do so as more than friends."
"We are," Sunset confirmed, keeping her own tone deathly neutral and even.
Princess Celestia smiled a fake smile. "I am very happy to hear that, my brilliant student. When you first met I was worried that you two wouldn't get along, and so I'm quite pleased that you're close enough to do something like this."
Sunset waited.
"But."
There it was.
"I did not expect it," Celestia continued. "And I do admit some concerns."
"Concerns." Sunset kept that same neutral tone.
The Princess nodded. "Yes." She sighed, eyes closing. "Sunset, I know you are familiar with many of the aspects of Palace life, but there remain some you are yet unexposed to. While a Princess must suffer them, you do not and I am worried you do not yet understand their impact."
Sunset raised an eyebrow. "Given the number of things you refuse to tell me about, that's no surprise."
If the barb caused any pain, Celestia didn't show it. "You jest, but in both cases I merely seek to protect you until you are ready."
Magma-hot frustration bubbled up through Sunset's gut. "So now I'm not ready enough to have a date or become a princess?"
That one hit harder. Princess Celestia's eyes popped open and the flicker of a frown crossed her serene features. "Sunset."
The unicorn shut her mouth, knowing she had pushed her insubordination as far as she could without punishment - but she still smiled at her victory.
A few seconds passed before Celestia was satisfied her student was quiet. "There are aspects of my life - and Cadance's - that you are not part of," she continued. "As merely my student, you retain some distance from the throne and the public eye. Perhaps one day you will learn just how invaluable little things like privacy are. And just as importantly, dating Cadance will pull you deeper into politics and the games of nobility. As much as I have tried to keep Cadance free of it, she will inevitably be drawn there - as you shall be, if you're by her side."
Sunset's response was a grunt. Celestia was right. Cadance would draw her further in to the web of Equestrian politics as time went on. But the warning came with the presumption that Sunset wouldn't become involved later (say, after her coronation) and that Sunset couldn't handle herself. Most of the so-called nobles were cork-horned noponies who lived and died off the merits of a distant ancestor; thus they were of no consequence. So Sunset raised her chin in egotistical defiance. "I'm ready."
"So you say." Princess Celestia dismissed it as quickly as Sunset spoke. Her horn lit, reaching to a side table. Held in that golden aura, a box of sandalwood floated silently over. A flick and the latch opened, showing an interior lined with black velvet. Sitting in the center was a triangular bronze amulet on a long chain: the amulet itself bore an odd insignia of an acorn with a jagged horn sticking out of the top; the chain's anchor points and the bottom tip of the triangle were set with pale green gems. "But I still offer you this, Sunset Shimmer. It is a powerful artifact that I have kept for many, many centuries. It has no formal name, but that does not diminish the power it holds." She floated it to her hoof - and stretched it out to offer to Sunset. "It will allow you to temporarily change your form and assume the appearance of any pony you wish, real or imagined."
Sunset's eyes widened with the possibilities.
But Celestia wasn't done. "I don't wish to stop you or Cadance from going out to the Festival, but I do offer this to you so that you may disguise yourself. Sunset Shimmer being publicly seen on a date with Princess Cadance could ruin your life - but a mystery pony who is never seen again afterwards is only a rumor, and those evaporate like mist in the dawn."
Instantly, all those possibilities running through Sunset's mind turned sour. "I will not hide," Sunset snarled through boiling anger. "If ponies have a problem with me, I'll deal with them just like I always have. A bunch of stupid, jealous fools who get offended every time somepony's better than they are will not dictate my life. I will dictate theirs." Internally, she pulled back on the reins. Sunset knew she was too close to saying the quiet part out loud.
"I am merely trying to protect you." Princess Celestia pushed back with iron restraint, challenging Sunset's determination.
Her response was a sneer. "If you're so concerned about that, maybe you should ask Cadance to disguise herself instead."
Silence. Guilty silence. Then the Princess' similarly guilty admission: "I already asked her. She declined."
The sneer became a victorious grin. Sunset didn't even need to speak to get her point across - one Celestia certainly already knew.
"I only want you both to be safe," the Princess repeated, a hint of fear creeping into her voice.
Sunset saw a weakness and instinctively stabbed. "What's next, then? Eight PM curfews? Chaperones? Or," she challenged with an oily smile, "Do you think it's time to sit us down and explain the birds and the bees, mom?"
That last word was spoke with grave contempt - and yet the response wasn't what Sunset expected. She had anticipated anger and accusations, the flames blossoming into a full fight as Celestia insisted that she respected her student and saw her as an adult even as she treated her like a child. But the Princess didn't. Celestia simply went very, very quiet and looked at the floor.
Seconds passed and Sunset's vicious smile faded. "...Princess Celestia?" Her voice was whisper-thin. Something was wrong and deep down under the pride and the ambition and the anger, that terrified Sunset.
The Princess didn't speak. She rose from her seat, gold-shod hooves sinking into the carpet. Slow, measured steps traveled towards the edge of the room, transitioning from cushioned silence to the tap of keratin on marble. Sunset rose and followed, a half-dozen steps behind.
Once she was fully off the carpet, Princess Celestia stopped. Her eyes closed and her horn lit. "You used to watch me raise the sun every morning," she softly narrated, emotions lapping at the edge of her serenity. "But despite your name, my brilliant student, I don't think I remember you ever being there when I lowered it."
She had been. But it had also been a long time since they had shared the moment.
Power pulsed through the room as Celestia's magic reached out into the cosmos. It felt different than raising the sun: Celestia's morning magic had very specific sensations to it. There was heat - everypony expected that. It was like you could feel the first rays of the sun on your body before the sun actually rose, playing a gentle, blanket-like warmth across you. There was the pressure on your horn from the raw strength of the monumental magic in your presence. Not like air pressure, but more similar to a hoof pressing inwards on your brain from every direction. You simply felt smaller by being in the magic's presence. And there was a scent to it, as well. Sunset could only ever remember alicorn magic engaging that sense. She always smelled spring in Celestia's magic, but when the sun rose it was closer to a field of poppies: floral and alive, but subtle enough to not overwhelm.
The sun's setting and moon's rise was close and yet not. The heat logically felt to fade - tapering off, like an invisible breeze that ran down your back without disturbing a hair. The pressure was no different, though it did feel a little weaker. The true difference was the scent: sharp and clean, like a crisp winter morning. It grew in intensity as the moon lifted, only slacking off when Celestia finished the job and extinguished her magic with a gasp of effort.
They turned - Celestia first and then Sunset - to the east. There wasn't a good view of the moonrise from the west solarium, but the Mare In The Moon could be seen peeking around the side of one of the Palace towers. Both stared for minutes - though Sunset more in anticipation for the Princess to speak. The moment was too delicate to risk breaking.
Nearly fifteen minutes had passed in silence when Celestia finally spoke. Almost not to Sunset, either - her eyes stayed locked onto the Mare's distant eye in the visible third of the moon. "There's so much I want to tell you," said the alicorn. Her voice's tone was unfamiliar: regretful and longing. "So much I should have told you. But I can't. It isn't the right time." A little bitter laugh slipped out. "It's always the wrong time, isn't it."
Hesitantly, Sunset took a step closer. "So tell me."
Celestia turned her head to look at her student. "I can't. And not because you aren't ready, Sunset. That is a different debate all together. I cannot tell you because I have to protect you. I have to protect all my little ponies." She turned back to the distant moon. "You will rage and cry and not understand, and that's okay because you will have the opportunity to do so." A pregnant pause - almost as if waiting to see if Sunset would argue. (She didn't.) "You talk about becoming a princess, but you do not understand what that means. That's why I have to protect you."
Another step closer, and Sunset defiantly raised her chin. "Protect me from what?"
With a cryptic smile, Celestia simply answered, "From being a princess."
Sunset frowned sharply at how little sense that made.
"Use the amulet." Princess Celestia's plea was quiet. "Please."
The response was stronger. "No."
And the Princess sighed. Something unidentifiable broke. "I could force the situation, but I won't. That would just be repeating my mistakes yet again, wouldn't it?" Her voice hardened, losing the quiet pleading and introspection it had held and transforming to the cool neutrality of Celestia at Day Court. "Enjoy your date. Have fun and make merry. In time you shall see why I have spoken as I have, and I pray that it is not too late." She waved a wing to dismiss the unicorn. "Go, my student."
It wasn't until she was out the door that it hit Sunset: Princess Celestia had said 'my student' without the usual 'brilliant'.
And she wasn't entirely sure why that hurt.