III
The Letter
Of course, I am not without my games.
Like the bull about to charge, I run through the stone galleries until I fall dizzy to the floor. I crouch in the shadow of a pool or around a corner and pretend I am being followed.
But of all the games, I prefer the one about the other Asterion.
I pretend that he comes to visit me and that I show him my house. I say to him, "Now we shall return to the farthest corner". Or "I knew you would like the ceiling, once we found it”. Or "Now you will see a pool filled with sand". Sometimes I make a mistake and the two of us laugh heartily.
To this day, I do not know when he was a Changeling and when he was just me.
– From The Great Hall of Asterion
* * * * *
The days after went on, with all the rote routines and daily woes that accompanied them.
Perhaps it was her own self that saw it differently. A little older, a little wearier still, in the days that grew quieter for Twilight Velvet, with both Shining and little Twilight spending longer and longer days at their respective schools. At the very least, her beloved Night Light was always so reliable, a shoulder to lean on as they awaited the time to pick up their children.
Her work came and went, day by day, author by author. Whether it was Rough Draft’s latest historical epics or Yearling’s latest blockbuster, the writings often blurred in her eyes, with all of the work she needed to do.
What stood out to her was that one day in Spring, in the year after they’d spoken at the fair, when Sunny Skies failed to submit her manuscript.
This was nothing out of the ordinary, at first. Her clients often had their own reasons, and they’d follow through within a week, two weeks at most. But then Sunny missed another deadline, a whole week after she’d promised it. Now, in and of itself, this would have been nothing amiss.
What struck Velvet was that Sunny hadn’t come in person, for she had only learned of it by letter.
* * * * *
“... Must’ve been quite the meeting, don’t you think? I’d never seen the Princess so tense.”
Velvet had hardly registered what Night Light was saying over breakfast, one morning in late Spring, as she read through the letter a second time. She’d found it during the usual sorting, as Night Light read the morning paper, where the headline was covering some meeting in Parliament she could not care less about at this moment.
‘To Miss Twilight Velvet,’ the letter read. ‘Unfortunately, I will not be able to make this deadline. I will get to it sooner than later, I hope. Many apologies. Sunny Skies.’
She read it a third time. No use there, though. There was no mistaking the hoof-writing, elegant, exquisite, ever so slightly flowery. But it was such a plain-looking letter, devoid of anything but the address of the receiver written upon the scroll.
A glance at the calendar only confirmed her worry. Two whole weeks had passed by now since her first promised deadline. Generous as Hoovesbury was, it was all but certain that Sunny was burning up goodwill fast, and Sealed Scroll was not known for giving away third chances.
For a second or two, Velvet considered writing a reply. Perhaps an inquiry, a warning, an ultimatum or however it went. But here and now, time was essential.
“Hey, Velv, you alright?”
“I’m going out,” said Velvet, getting up. “Sunny’s place. I know I have the address somewhere.”
“Wait– Sunny’s place?” Night Light repeated, folding his newspaper. “Hold on a moment now–”
“It’s been two weeks,” Velvet said, moving to pick up her coat, which she’d left slung over a spare chair at the breakfast table today. The weather team had forecast a few late showers. “Two weeks too long.”
“I mean, she could be dealing with something else.”
“She never misses a meeting, Booky,” Velvet reminded him. “She comes over even when you tell her she doesn’t need to.”
“That much I know,” Night Light conceded. “Right, just be careful out there, love.”
Velvet gave him a quick kiss. “I will.”
With a few strides, she was at the front door, passing by the empty living room and the staircase. Just as she held a hoof to the doorknob, she looked up the stairs.
“Twilight, Shining, I’m heading out!” Velvet called out.
No answer came, and Velvet felt a touch of embarrassment. Of course neither of them were going to be answering. Twilight’s extra classes meant sleepless nights and tired mornings, and Shining was still off at his friend Poindexter’s – flugelhorn practice, he’d claimed, but Velvet felt sure it’d really be yet another session of that daft little board game he and his friends played.
Letting out a long, tired sigh, Velvet stepped out the door, closing it behind her.
* * * * *
Finding Sunny’s address had been trivial. Under normal circumstances, she usually wrote her return address on her letters. A clean search through the office got Velvet the address within the hour, and she was certain of it, for she’d never known the Post Office to miss its mark. It had been more difficult to explain her absence for the rest of the day, especially to Sealed Scroll, but a mention of Sunny Skies was all she required for him to leave her be.
Reaching Sunny’s home turned out a little more convoluted. From Velvet’s home at Lunar Row, down the road past the Fountain Square, and past the Opera House straight to Starswirl Lane. A mild annoyance, as Hoovesbury Publishing was practically on the other side of the city. One respite Velvet welcomed was that the rush hour had passed, and the trams in the Northwest Line weren’t as filled with dockworkers and weatherponies now as they were an hour ago.
The houses in Starswirl Lane were of an older build, and Sunny’s was no exception. Its bricks were aged, though brushed over with a newer coat of paint, that ubiquitous ivory white seen all over Canterlot. There was no garden at the front, and the house’s black, wooden door faced a few steps that led straight to the pavement.
Velvet consulted the address she’d written down, then back at the street number. No. 5 Starswirl Lane. This was the correct address.
Without another word, she took a few steps up and reached for the door knocker. Once, twice, thrice she went, the hard metal striking wood with a sharp knock.
She didn’t have to wait long before the door opened. But the mare who answered the door was not Sunny Skies.
Where Sunny Skies was tall and sprightly, the aged, light blue unicorn mare standing before Velvet was short and, dare she say, a little decrepit. But then Velvet looked at her eyes – her good eye, that is, for the other was scarred shut. A brilliant shade of green welcomed her, a sight that reminded her of lectures on grammar and Standard Equestrian Style…
“P-professor Inkwell?” Velvet stammered out.
“Oh, hello, deary,” said Inkwell. “Why, I hadn’t been expecting anyone this fine morning.”
“I… I see,” said Velvet, clearing her throat.
Certainly, though it remained unsaid, the last person she’d expected here was her old professor from the School for Gifted Unicorns.
She scrunched up her brows in thought, rummaging her brain for the right questions. Maybe it would be rude for her to be direct, to inquire so bluntly. But she needed her answers.
“I’m sorry. I was… expecting someone else here.”
Before Inkwell could reply, Velvet presented one of Sunny’s letters. Inkwell’s one remaining good eye squinted at it.
“I’m looking for Sunny Skies.”
“Oh, Sunny,” said Inkwell. She furrowed her brows. Then she laughed fondly. “Ah, she’s nice. You’re from her publisher, yes? Come, come, I’ve just had some tea prepared.”
Hesitantly, Velvet followed her inside.
Much like the facade implied, it was a small, yet regal place. An odd familiarity belied it, for it much resembled the houses on Lunar Row, with a wooden staircase leading upstairs close by the front door, and a warm carpet that covered every inch of the floor. Were it not for the lack of family photos and children’s laughter, it might have passed for a home she’d grow old in.
‘Not that it’d make much of a difference,’ Velvet thought morosely, as she followed Inkwell into the living room, past the foyer.
Now here the difference was more stark. The bookshelves looked older, their polished wood hiding chips on their surface. The fireplace, too, was of an older make than hers, consisting of bricks and a metal gate.
“Do have a seat, Miss Velvet,” said Inkwell, picking up a tray of tea with a flick of her horn. “These morning hours can be so tiring.”
“Do you live here, Professor?” asked Velvet, blurting out before she could stop herself. “Sorry. I thought you lived across town before.”
“Hah! Always were the inquisitive one, Miss Velvet,” said Inkwell, sitting down on the seat opposite hers. “I do. It’s not an awfully long walk to the school, either. Oh, these old legs do seem to be getting on in years…”
Velvet smiled at that, though she could only muster a thin smile. “Still off teaching, then.”
“Always,” said Inkwell, winking – how’d she manage that with one eye? – before taking a sip of her cup. “But something tells me you’re not here for me.”
“I suppose so,” said Velvet, lifting her cup. “Miss Sunny Skies, Professor. I followed her address here, but… well.”
She took one long sip. “Do you know her?”
“Of course I do,” said Inkwell, eye twinkling as she looked over to the bookshelves nearby. “Her works are lovely. But I know her better as a niece, and she’s been so kind to provide me with a place to stay, so close to the school.”
Inkwell shook her head, before turning to Velvet.
“Enough of that. So what brings you here, Miss Velvet? An offer, perhaps?”
Velvet could only wince at the question. “Yes, um , well– it’s best if I tell her myself. She’s in no trouble, that much I can assure you. Not when she’s been nothing but kind.”
“That she is, that she is,” agreed Inkwell. She looked towards the grandmother clock. “She speaks very fondly of her work, you know. It’s nice to see her colleagues returning the favour.”
“I try to be impartial,” Velvet said, and she knew she sounded rather unconvincing. “She’s never mentioned you.”
“Bah, ’tis of little concern to me,” said Inkwell, shaking her head. “Sunny’s never been the type to share much, as I’m sure you’ll have noticed. She’s got it in her head that she shouldn’t speak too much about whatever is bothering her. Oh, I wish she knew she’s not so alone…”
A pang of guilt went by Velvet’s heart. Friendly as Inkwell had been, the tiny voice in her head had started to whisper now that she’d been prying, interfering, and interloping in whatever private affairs Sunny Skies kept hidden.
If she’d hidden stories from her aunt, what right did Velvet have, in return…
Before Velvet could say more, there was a knock at the door.
“Ah, I’ll be back in a moment, deary,” said Inkwell, glancing at the grandmother clock. “Do make yourself at home, Miss Velvet.”
She was off, as Velvet’s words died in her throat. Now she was by her lonesome, in this abode she was very much feeling an intruder to.. Soon after, her eyes drifted, from the old bookshelves to the crystalline chandelier up above, to the grandmother clock whose hands moved to ten o’clock and chimed just then.
So odd, however. It struck Velvet that, although there were plenty of pictures of Inkwell lining up the shelves, changing through the years from the energetic, raven-haired mare she once was, all the way to the aged scholar she was now, there were very little of Sunny. A few here and there, no doubt about that, of Sunny by Inkwell’s side, Sunny asleep at the desk, Sunny reading to a group of children at what could only be Celestia’s School.
But there were no fillies here to be seen, none of a young Sunny Skies reading her first book, nor writing her first draft, none of Sunny with all her friends nor family.
Murmurs in the hall spilled over to the living room. Velvet’s eyes darted towards the doorway, in time to see Sunny Skies enter the room.
Velvet almost failed to recognise the mare she saw. Sunny Skies had never looked so haggard, with her cheery pink mane lacking the lustre it once held, her magenta eyes faded. And were those eyebags beneath her eyes, shadowed by the sun hat sitting gawkily upon her head?
“Miss Velvet?” said Sunny, after what must have been an eternity.
“Hello,” Velvet said, waving awkwardly. “I– this is a bit unexpected, isn’t it?”
Sunny nodded slowly. Beside her, Inkwell only smiled serenely.
“I should brew some more tea,” Inkwell said, glancing at her non-existent watch. “You must be exhausted, Sunny.”
She walked on further down the hall, humming all the way. That left Velvet alone with Sunny, and neither of them felt nor looked like they wanted to be there.
“I… right. I believe it is, um, quite-” Sunny stammered out. She walked on over, seating herself on the chair Inkwell had vacated. “Right. I’ll get on with it. I was… well…”
She reached into her saddlebags, withdrawing a neatly-bound book. Velvet raised an eyebrow.
“I wasn’t sure– well, I mean I was, but– alright, here you go, Miss Velvet,” said Sunny, placing the book upon the table and nudging it forward. “My latest work. As promised,” Sunny added, wincing. “As close as I’ve promised it.”
Donning her reliable reading glasses, Velvet reviewed the book presented before her. Upon the cover she saw the likeness of a pegasus mare, crowned with gold. Her coat was a rosebud pink, carrying herself with elegance and nobility.
The Tale of the Princess Sunrise Ladybug.
Very slowly she opened it, and began to read.
* * * * *
Once, there lived a Princess beloved by the realm.
She lived in an ivory tower, ruling over the realm with gentle guidance. Her name was Sunrise. But to her people she was also Ladybird. Or Ladybug, as the children liked to say. It was this last name which she retained, for the Princess knew how to take herself lightly. The people loved Princess Ladybug, and she loved them.
Her days were filled with cheer. She held feasts with earthpony and pegasus and unicorn alike. But so loved was she, that although she was kind, Ladybug grew proud, a little vain. After all, what misfortune could befall her land, under her watchful eye?
One day came a child, a young filly from a faraway village. She entered court, which was a simple task when Princess Ladybug kept her doors were open to all. However, to draw the eyes of the Princess was a harder feat. Princess Ladybug had many admirers.
“Yes, what is it, dear child?” Princess Ladybug said at last, when she noticed the filly. “What is your name and what brings you to my fine realm?”
“My name is Flake, Your Highness,” said the filly, bowing as deep as she could. “Tis my village, and we would like you to visit us, in celebration of a good harvest.”
The court laughed. They’d never heard such an audacious filly. But Ladybug loved her people. “Very well!” said she. “We shall set off at once!”
She placed Flake upon her back, and together they took to the skies…
* * * * *
“What do you think?” Sunny’s voice interrupted her reading.
“It looks quite good, so far,” said Velvet. “If a little rough. Nothing unmanageable, though. I’ll have to give it a proper look-over.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” said Sunny, what smile she wore crooked. “If you’ll excuse me, I should… I should probably– alright, I’m sorry it’s late. B-but I’ve worked hard on it. Have you gotten to the better parts yet? There’s this… this evil sorceress, and– well, Princess Ladybug’s got to learn a life lesson as well. It ends well, I promise you, just something a little uplifting–”
“Alright, alright,” said Velvet. “All in all, I have little issue with your work here. It certainly seems up to par with your usual output.”
“But?”
“There is no ‘but’ regarding the book,” said Velvet. “It looks fine to me, in all honesty.” She folded her glasses, setting them down with the book. She looked at Sunny, frowning. “I don’t quite understand, Miss Skies. Why in Equestria did you say you wouldn’t meet the deadline? And believe me, you’re very close to it.”
“I know I am.”
“Then please, enlighten me,” said Velvet. “You’ve never been one to be tardy about this. Two weeks, and…”
Her words trailed off when she caught sight of Sunny’s eyes, wide and wet with tears. Her lips quivered, even as she took several breaths.
“Forgive me,” Velvet said immediately. “Perhaps we could–”
“No, no it’s just–” Sunny said hurriedly, shaking her head. “It’s fine. It’s just…”
She looked away, sighing.
“I had a fight,” Sunny said, quieter than she’s ever been. “My daughter and I… these things happen, right? I tell myself it does, and she’s been having trouble as well–” Her smile was bitter, when she looked back at Velvet. “I don’t think she wants to talk to me again.”
Velvet’s heart sank. “... Miss Skies?”
“I’m sorry for dumping this on you,” Sunny continued. “It’s– it’s so stupid and– I wish I could take it all back. I just– she’s so clever and brilliant and maybe I should have seen more of that, maybe I should have understood her more… but I’m so tired, I try and I mess it all up.”
Her laugh was unconvincing.
“I’m not who you think I am, aren’t I?” Sunny said softly. “I’m only a screw-up.”
“With due respect,” Velvet interjected. “I’ve known you long enough to know you aren’t.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “Your sister, perhaps she could–”
Regret invaded Velvet then, for Sunny’s eyes only widened, her lips quivering. When she spoke, it was a deathly whisper.
“She’s gone, Miss Velvet. She’s been gone for years and…” Her tired gaze drifted towards the book Velvet had opened before her. “This is really all I have left of her. All of this, everything that I’ve built, everything I've written.”
Perhaps Velvet was only seeing things then, with all the air in the room sucked out of it. But it was so strange to her, for Sunny Skies, clouded and forlorn, looked so much older than she had any right to be.
“I’m sorry,” was all that she could say, at first. “I hadn’t known.”
“It’s not your fault,” said Sunny. “I’ll manage, as I always have. And, when I said that there’s more to the book–” she pointed towards it, across the table. “I meant it. I’m proud of Sunrise Ladybug. And I hope she’ll find her place in all your hearts.”
Velvet’s gaze panned down towards the book, her forehoof flipping the pages. She stopped at a full-page spread. The determined gaze of Princess Ladybug looked right back at her, her expression hardened and her stance firm, ready to face the evil sorceress who’d cast a dark spell over Flake’s village.
“You know,” said Sunny. “I just wish I was as brave as Princess Ladybug.”
“Look, I don’t know if I’ve got the right to say this to you,” Velvet remarked, looking up again. “And perhaps I don’t have the full picture. But I cannot imagine it being easy to raise a daughter by yourself. You’ve tried your best, and know that… that maybe your daughter needs time.”
“Time,” Sunny echoed, laughing softly. “Don’t we all need it.”
“Of course,” Velvet lamented, shaking her head. “No one should be alone.”
Before Sunny could answer, Velvet had already stood up, dusting herself off. She held the open book in her aura. “I’ll take it from here then. It’s clear to me that you need time for yourself.”
“O-oh,” said Sunny, looking unsure. “I’ve– I’m sorry it’s come so late–”
“Don’t be,” said Velvet, waving her off. “Whatever your troubles are with your daughter, I wish you both the very best. And you’re her mother, Miss Skies. You matter to her, don’t forget that.”
She glanced at the door, remembering the elderly mare who’d just left the two of them here by themselves.
“You have a good aunt, Sunny. Don’t forget that, either.”
For the first time since she’d walked into the living room, Sunny’s smile was sincere. “I shan’t. Thank you, Miss Velvet.”
“It’s no trouble,” said Velvet. “Give her my regards, but it looks like I’ve got a book to edit.” Giving Sunny a polite nod, she strolled on over to the door.
But a strange thought crossed her mind, as she read on with each step. Perhaps a little amusing, Velvet realised, that Sunrise Ladybug could so closely resemble that girl Cadance, who came over nowadays to mind Twilight when neither she nor the boys could do so.
Everyone in Canterlot could remember when Princess Mi Amore Cadenza had been revealed to the public, three years ago, during a grand announcement where all the Royal Family were gathered atop a balcony looking out onto the crowd. It would not surprise her if Sunny had found inspiration in that somewhere.
If it had seemed stranger still, initially, that Cadance was attending a regular school, which so happened to be the one Shining Armor also went to, Velvet had grown used to it in time, much like the initial marvel of a new Alicorn Princess had receded amongst the minds of the citizenry. As far as she was concerned, Cadance was just a nice girl who helped take care of her daughter.
She wondered if Sunny Skies had such simple yet precious support with her own family.
‘Find her place in all your hearts…’ Velvet paused at the door.
“Oh, and Miss Skies?”
Sunny looked at her, head tilted. “Yes?”
Velvet smiled, horn glowing, closing the book. “I think you’ve got this.”
