//------------------------------// // II ~ The Fair // Story: Velvet Quill & Sunny Skies // by Sledge115 //------------------------------// II The Fair Not for nothing was my mother a Queen. I cannot be confused with common folk, though I might wish it were so. The fact is, I am unique. I am not interested in what one creature may give to any other creature. Like all deep thinkers and like all the little children, I see no point in writing. Bothersome and uninteresting little details have no place in my spirit. If I ever learned the difference between one letter and another, I didn’t bother to remember it. Do not send me letters. I shall not read them. – From The Great Hall of Asterion * * * * * “I do hope all the edits are to your liking, Miss Skies.” “Oh, trust me, they are, they are. Changing it to The Great Hall of Asterion, that’s a nice touch,” said Sunny Skies.  The author gave her copy of the altered manuscript another look-over.  Despite the significance of the occasion, the first bridging of the gap between submission and publication which rests upon any writer, a crux between anticipation and apprehension, the look most prominent on Sunny’s features was a forlorn gaze which Velvet could only speculate at the meaning of. At that moment, despite the fact Velvet was the one here who sat behind her own desk, in her own office, akin to her own little kingdom in the literary world, she suddenly felt beset by the kind of worry most commonly associated with guilt. Had she done something wrong?  “... Bitty for your thoughts, Miss?” “Oh, nothing! Nothing… Simply that…” Sunny took a deep breath. “Each time I set myself a new project, I’m never entirely sure I’ll make it all the way through. And… well, there have been times in my life where seeing things through has… has felt of paramount importance.” She had been staring away from Velvet when she said this, yet now looked back at her. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m being overly wound-up, for making such a big deal out of a book. After all, it’s not the end of the world, right?” Heavy words. And yet, upon hearing them, Velvet felt herself relax. This was heading back into territory she felt comfortable handling. Sunny Skies was not upset at her for making changes. By the sound of it, the writer opposite her was simply experiencing an artist’s anxiety. While expressed to a degree a tad stronger than the norm, nothing an editor was not equipped for. “No, of course not,” Velvet said kindly. “But I’ve worked with books all my life, and I know that for those who love them, a book is like a world in itself. For writers perhaps most of all.” Where she had been sitting up straight, now she leaned forward slightly. “And writing means a lot to you. I could see that right away.” Funnily enough, nowhere was this more obvious today than in Sunny’s choice of attire for the big event, wearing a sunhat and sunglasses. No later than a day had passed since she’d penned her approval that Sunny appeared in her office once more, all dressed for the occasion with what passed as her finest wear. “It started with reading, actually,” said Sunny. “I used to read to my sister when she was little. She’d ask me to read for her every night.” Right. A sentimental reason, then. Deep down, Velvet felt glad it had waited until after her revisions for this story to be sprung upon her. Authors may write from the heart, yet sincerity or passion alone did not a book make. An editor was like an engineer. Where visionaries dreamed, technicians worked on the nuts-and-bolts. Too often, this meant the unhappy task of informing the dreamer that what they’d envisioned, bluntly put, would not work. Of course, the practical-minded people have been known to be wrong as well. “Mmm, I see,” Velvet said. She allowed herself to smile. Her work was, if not done, then halfway carried out. She could afford to speak from the heart. “Speaking as your editor, I wouldn’t worry. Your sister would be proud.” Perhaps she had meant it as a kindness, Velvet thought. Some words of comfort, or encouragement. Simply a moment’s courtesy. All that fell by the wayside, though, as Sunny’s eyes darkened. How else to describe it, Velvet thought fleetingly, seeing the corners of Sunny’s lips twitch and quiver, eyes looking down upon the drawing of Asterion’s Hall in her original manuscript. “She would be, wouldn’t she,” Sunny murmured. “Last Hearthswarming would have been her birthday…” The moment passed, then and there, the gloom over Sunny fading as fast as it had first appeared. When her gaze returned to Velvet, so did a smile, yet a peculiar weariness remained that did not belong on so young a face. “Thank you. It means a lot, Miss Velvet.” Whatever it was, perhaps Velvet should not pry further. So she merely nodded. “It’s no trouble, Miss Skies. We’ll keep in touch.” * * * * * With the speedy efficiency of the fanciful, for which Equestria was renowned, the process from manuscript to publication that took months elsewhere was only a matter of weeks. Once Hoovesbury, the publishing house, had assigned its team of bookbinders and designers to convert the manuscript into an appealing format, water-colour illustrations included, the newly-bound book was sent off to get printed in copies by the thousands. After which, the business of ensuring the book reached an audience was no longer the sole domain of Hoovesbury. Working in partnership with their distributors, it then fell upon the latter to find literary outlets who’d be interested in selling these copies. And even in Equestria, one required marketing to kick-start demand. But at the end of it all, seven days after publication, The Great Hall of Asterion reached the fourth spot on the Equestria Daily bestsellers list. Nothing too special for that list, where books rose and fell at a whim, yet for a children’s book, it might as well have been top of the world. Velvet had seen it in the morning edition of The Canterlot Times, as was her custom every day. The reviews had been kind. Sunny Skies’ writings had proven captivating enough, for both parents and the children they’d read to. All it had taken, she flattered herself to think, was to trim and shuffle the weightier exposition scattered throughout, and convince Sunny to repurpose this content as appendices for the more curious, older readers. ‘My kids loved it, all four of them,’ read a comment. ‘Wouldn’t miss this one.’ ‘Might be a tough one for the little ones, but it’s no bore.’ ‘A fine debut for Miss Skies.’ Not that it would be hard to miss outside of review columns, either. The banner at the nearest Barns & Stables featured prominently in the shop’s front window. Hoovesbury’s marketing department were no slouch, and Sunny’s magnificent water-colour painting of Asterion stood as the centrepiece. It easily drew Velvet’s eyes when she went there on her lunch break, just as it did a few others. “Do you think it’s worth a read?” asked a blue pegasus stallion, a construction worker, holding a copy before him. “I don’t know, it’s a kids’ book. The girls might love it, but I hope it’s not… you know, boring.” “I found it a pleasant bit of bedtime reading,” replied his colleague, a tall grey earthpony mare. “Not that I have children, mind you.” “Well, if you say so…” Keeping a tiny smile to herself, Velvet moved on from the display, passing by a growing reading group in the children’s corner. * * * * * Time and time again, Sunny Skies’ name continued to rise, with each new book to hit the shelves. First amongst the children, who’d adored her painted illustrations that adorned every page, and lovely words that spoke of distant lands and charming heroes. Then the parents, who’d grown fond of reading to their children, and for themselves. Many a family who’d been awed by her work, and even those without. In the wake of The Great Hall of Asterion came The Rainbow Crow, the retelling of yet another timeless classic folk tale beautifully adapted by each stroke of her quill. Another year after that, The Tempest Crown, her first work to get showcased on Equestria Daily’s Featured list. Then The Hippogriff’s Dream, Cloud Chasers of Farsina, Dragon’s Tear… All of which spoke of distant lands, exotic people she wrote with such familiarity that Velvet and many others could imagine themselves walking in the streets of the Saddle Mareabian cities of Farsina and Intisar, or traverse the treacherous Dragonlands. All of which were as beloved as the other, cherished and spoken of with such fond words and praise by the masses. With each passing year, and each published book, Sunny’s visits grew scarcer and scarcer. Perhaps it was to be expected, for plenty of authors, whether it be veterans like Tale Spin and Rough Draft or other rising stars like A.K. Yearling, all found themselves swamped with requests and deadlines and book signing events.  Yet, even then, Sunny seemed a busier mare than most. As friendly as Sunny had always been to Velvet, so inviting and warm, she herself had never been one to share much. One day she would speak of travelling as far as Neighpon or Saddle Mareabia. Other times she’d arrive late from what must have been quite the adventure at the zoo – or so she claimed. Once, Velvet could have sworn she saw Sunny exit Duke Azure Blueblood’s airship in a hurry, when she passed by the docks. A charmed life, indeed. Sometimes, Velvet’s curiosity got the best of her, and she’d ask Sunny whatever it was that she had busied herself with. “Oh, I travel a lot. I like travelling,” was all Sunny had to say, each time. Not that Velvet had any room to judge, she’d reflected, whenever either of her children needed her at home in the time she could spare. Twilight Sparkle was rapidly outgrowing her classes, her grasp upon even the simplest of spellwork like levitation far beyond her peers’. And soon, Shining Armor was to join the Guard, as he’d long dreamt, once he was out of high school. As for Sunny, perhaps it was her preference, to be private and withdrawn outside of those intermittent  times she’d agreed to book signings. Whatever her errands were, her business outside of her work with Hoovesbury, Velvet had little urge to pry. So long as she sent her manuscripts in on time – and though far and few in-between, the quality was worth the wait – there was little she had to worry about. Such it had always been, day by day, season by season. Then, only two years later, starting with a reprinted edition of The Great Hall of Asterion, Sunny began dedicating her books. A simple sentence, right in the centre of the page after the customary foreword, written in red and gold ink, which could not have been cheap. Yet Sunny had insisted. ‘For my daughter.’ She had never mentioned her once, and whatever her reasons, Velvet let her be. So the matter passed, and life went on – until the book fair came, in the height of Summer, seven years after Velvet had first heard Sunny’s knock upon her door. * * * * * The Hoovesbury Book Fair was, safe to say, the literary event – at least for those in the publishing trade. Not the only major book event of the year, mind, yet the week-long fair was the one on everyone’s watchlist. Every year, every Spring and Autumn, hundreds and perhaps thousands of titles from Equestria’s best publishers were presented to schools all across the country, attracting the children’s eyes. For the lucky ones, there were signings, too. This year, Twilight’s school was amongst them, and so Velvet had volunteered to chaperone and help around at the stall the moment she learned. Now, four hours since she’d last seen Twilight, seated behind the curtain of Hoovesbury’s booth here in the school library, Velvet wondered if she should have even bothered.  She was fairly certain she saw Twilight build her own little book fort, a few aisles down from the booth, made out of Daring Do books. And once Twilight had retreated into the fort, there was no pulling her out. Part of Velvet felt some relief that Twilight could watch over herself so easily once she’d been pulled into her readings. And yet another part of her wished that Twilight were here, by her side, reading one of her books. Silent, perhaps, but she’d be here all the same. Her wistful thinking, as she scribbled a few miscellaneous notes on the books Twilight wanted as well as the next short story anthology, faded amidst disappointed murmurs and frantic reassurances. Then the purple curtain parted, and who else should come in but Sunny Skies. The poor mare looked frazzled, her braided pink mane a little messy, her coat a little soaked, and even her usual hat was ajar. “Long day, huh?” asked Velvet. Sunny only let out a sheepish laugh. “Oh yeah,” she said, shaking her head. “They just won’t stop coming, will they?” “Nope,” Velvet answered, scooting over to provide a seat. “That’s fame for you. Don’t blame me, though, you signed up for this, Miss Skies.” This drew another, even more flustered chuckle from Sunny, one that drew Velvet’s laugh in turn. Once it subsided, Sunny had seated herself beside her, looking for all the world like she wanted nothing more than to sink into the cushion. “Alright, fair enough,” said Sunny, shrugging. “I suppose I did ask for this, and now…” She looked down at her hooves, ears flicking, and her magenta eyes looked quite contemplative of the carpet. Velvet tapped at her notepad, then put it aside. “Now it’s become a bit much,” Velvet continued for her, “and you’re not sure if it’s what you actually wanted.” Sunny nodded at that.  “It is nice, but… I guess times do change.” She glanced at her wrist-watch. “Goodness, I hope I won’t be home late. I promised I’d cook dinner tonight!” “Well, I’m sure your partner’s not going anywhere,” said Velvet. Almost immediately, she regretted her choice of words. “Or… darn it. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed–” “Oh no, it’s alright, really,” said Sunny, smiling for a moment. She looked down at her hooves, ears flicking. “I prefer to fly solo, if you catch my drift. It’s just… well, you know.” “Hm?” Sunny looked up above, towards the ceiling, a strangely wistful look etched in her face. “It feels like I can’t catch up,” she said, her voice weary and low. “I know I try, but… do you feel like you get left behind, too?” “I’m sorry?” “Your kids,” Sunny added. “Do you feel left behind sometimes, Miss Velvet? “Oh… you’re talking about your daughter?” “I am,” Sunny answered. “She’s a real brilliant gal. Assertive, too.” “Ah, is she now?” Velvet said, feeling a little tease come up. “You haven’t seen my daughter, then.” “No, no no, we are not having this,” Sunny chided, though her playful tone betrayed her. “No contest. None.” “You started it, to be fair,” Velvet retorted. But Sunny’s question lingered, and there was that look to Sunny that reminded her all too well of Twilight, whenever she insisted she could go on with whatever homework was due that night. She glanced at her notes, the unfinished list of books taunting her still, and sighed. “It can feel like that,” Velvet began. “Like you’re playing catch-up, and one part of you is just so, so proud of them and the other part wishes they could just… slow down.” It was as best as she could put it, recalling those few days when Twilight started citing books Velvet hadn’t even known existed. “I suppose,” agreed Sunny “My daughter’s… well, she’s got dreams. You know how far they’d reach. All the way up into the stars above.” “And yet you’re afraid they’ll fall,” Velvet continued solemnly. “That you wouldn’t be there to catch them when they do.” “If,” Sunny corrected. “If they do.” “You sound so certain.” “Oh, yes,” Sunny replied, laughing. “If you met her, you’d know what I’m talking about.” “Yes, well, they can be so confident, I can tell you that,” Velvet added, letting out a groan before she could help it. “Try having two overconfident little rascals around.” Sunny looked at her, mouth agape. “No,” she said. “Hey, we wanted two, so we got two,” said Velvet, shrugging. “I suppose we could have thought it through, because now one of them’s aching to go out there and make a name for himself in the Guard, and the other…” Velvet pulled the curtain back a little. She allowed herself a fond smile. “Well, off to read another library’s worth of books.” “Ah, rascals,” Sunny said, patting Velvet with a fluffy wing. “I simply can’t imagine having to deal with two of them.” “It is what it is,” said Velvet. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.” “Neither would I,” Sunny added, and even without looking at her, Velvet could tell she was smiling too. “If I ever get the chance, I ought to introduce you. I suppose editing isn't exactly her thing but… if only I had more time for all this.” From within her saddlebags she withdrew a book. A copy of Stardust Grove, her latest work, a tale of Reindeer and the hidden world they wove in the Frozen North. Sunny beamed as she looked at the cover, of the Reindeer King standing tall atop a great northern mountain. “She doesn’t really do readings, you know. Wants to do everything herself, but I know she does like it when I read to her. Goodness me, there’s so much I want to do with her.” “Oh, tell me about it,” Velvet concurred. “Six months away after having them and I just couldn’t wait to get back to the thick of it. But these days…” There came that sinking feeling, yet again. She couldn’t tell what it was, nor should it concern her much. Here and there, she’d felt strange, crushing longing. Nothing more she’d wanted to see than Twilight come over to her booth here, book in tow, just like she used to. “Velvet?” Sunny’s voice chimed in. “Are you alright?” “I’m fine, I’m fine,” Velvet lied. She realised that she’d been fumbling with her pearl necklage, and let it go. “Tell you what, actually. You can go right on ahead, if she needs you that badly.” “... Really?” “Really,” Velvet replied. “I’ll take care of the fair for today.” “Oh, if it isn’t too much to ask. But–” “Sunny,” said Velvet. “You promised your kid. There’s still two days left in the fair.” “Are you sure? I mean…” “What are you cooking for her?” Velvet cut in, hoping it wasn’t too abrupt of an interruption. “Ah,” said Sunny, who looked a little bit taken aback. “Just her favourite pancakes.” Velvet poured all her conviction into the next words she spoke. “Then just go, you wouldn’t want to miss it for the world, and neither would she. I’ll tell anyone who asks that you had another errand, and they’ll look the other way.” “Even Mister Scroll?” asked Sunny, enunciating the name with a hint of worry. “Especially Mister Scroll. You can trust me on that.” Sunny’s eyes widened. “Alright, alright, Velvet. I’ll see you around later. Best of luck!” She stood up, and out the back she went, without another word. It seemed strange that someone who was so outwardly of a bright disposition could conceal such fretful agitation. But that mattered little to Velvet. Whatever Sunny’s business was with her family, that was her right to return to it as soon as possible, visibly keen as she was to do so. If only she had gone out the right side of the booth. “Hey, Sunny?” Velvet said, standing up, reaching for the exit curtain. “You went the wrong way. Door’s closer over–” But Sunny was no longer there. Only an empty aisle, with not a soul to be seen. Another glance revealed nothing else to Velvet. Soon, shrugging, she went back inside the booth, her quill fast at work with the notes she’d left for a while. It was so strange, though, Velvet would still be reflecting many hours later. Because for a moment, just as she’d pulled the curtain, unless her eyes had deceived her, she’d caught the briefest flash of yellow light.