On a normal day, Silver Shoals was busy.
On Hearthʼs Warming Eve, it's lively.
Sunset Shimmer hummed to herself as she hung the lights around the windows. Outside, she could see the ponies, locals and tourists alike, bustling about town, no doubt getting some last-minute Christmas shopping done.
No, not Christmas. Hearthʼs Warming. Sunset had spent so much time celebrating human holidays she'd forgotten about her own.
She finished setting up the lights and stepped back to admire her handiwork. Satisfied with herself, she turned on the light switch.
The entire living room was bathed in a soft, golden light. Sunset smiled.
Silver Shoals was unlike Canterlot Castle in so many ways. For one, it was tiny. Where the castle was a grand structure of majesty and beauty, Celestia and Lunaʼs retirement villa was a small modern house that radiated comfort and warmth. This difference in age and size was even more pronounced in the holidays, where it was clear that only two ponies had decorated the house, as opposed to an entire team.
Still, the villa was very clearly Celestiaʼs. From the royal purple couches to the pristine white walls, from the sun-and-stars pattern on the door to the golden windowsills, everything was curated for Celestia. Sunset even recognized some tapestries that previously in the former Princessʼ throne room.
Sunset approached the lit fireplace and immediately noticed the lack of stockings. She made a mental note to ask Celestia about it later. Instead, she focused her attention on the wall above the hearth, and scanned the various art pieces hung up.
Sunsetʼs eyes fell on one painting particular.
It depicted a younger Celestia and an even younger Sunset smiling widely, their foreheads lovingly pressed together. The painting blended warm and cool colors perfectly and, at first glance, you could not tell it had been crafted by a seven-year-old.
Sunset could tell, though. She would never forget the first holiday present she gave her mentor.
She kept it. Despite the years and the distance between us, she kept it.
She took the painting in her crimson magic and gently ran her hoof across it. A few tears fell on it, blending some of the paint.
“Reminiscing, are we?”
Sunset jumped at the sudden voice, her magic cutting off. The painting clattered to the floor. She quickly picked it up and gingerly set it on the couch. She turned around to face the owner of said voice.
Celestia had a small, playful smirk in her face. “Iʼm sorry, Sunset. I did not mean to frighten you.”
Sunset smiled in turn and levitated the painting back in its place. “Can’t believe you kept it all those years.”
Celestia approached the unicorn, placing a gentle hoof on her shoulder. “I never stopped loving you. And I never will.” She gently stroked Sunset’s mane, a familiar and nostalgic gesture that Sunset appreciated.
A few seconds of comfortable silence later, Sunset decided to ask the question that had been bugging her. “Hey, Celestia?” The alicorn nodded. “Where are your stockings?”
Celestia stared at her, confused. “What are stockings? Is that a human tradition?”
Oh. Equestria, right. Totally forgot.
“Yeah, it’s a human thing,” Sunset said. “The local equivalent is the Hearth’s Warming doll.”
“I see.” Celestia walked over to a nearby chest, pulled open a drawer and took an ornate and beautiful mahogany box. “I wanted to do it with you.” She levitated the box over to Sunset, and the latter opened it.
Sunset’s doll was inside, as worn and old as she remembered. The tears, scruffs and missing button were all left as they were, having clearly been kept in mind condition. Also in the box was Celestia’s doll, just as old but less damaged. Sunset looked up at Celestia, her eyes shining with fresh tears.
“I know how much you love it. But if you want something new, we can-”
“No,” Sunset whispered. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” She took Celestia’s doll in her magical field and floated it above the hearth. The alicorn did the same to Sunset’s doll.
Celestia wrapped a wing around Sunset, who swiftly sunk in the warm embrace.
Dinner at the villa was significantly less grandiose than those at the castle. With only two ponies at the table, compared to the entire castle staff, there was less need for elaborate food and five-star courses. The food itself was made by Celestia, who had apparently spent the entire morning in the kitchen.
“Still can’t believe Luna isn’t spending her first retired winter with you,” Sunset said as she wiped some plates and set them down.
“We spent the last few winters together, though. And we have the rest of your lives to go,” Celestia replied. “If she wants to be with our family in Crystal Empire this year, I’m okay with that.”
Sunset knew very well that ‘our family in the Crystal Empire’ meant Cadance, and the thought of the pink alicorn sent waves of regret and guilt through Sunset’s body.
It also brought back memories of Sunset’s last holiday in Equestria. Where she had shut herself in her room, insulted the princess’ staff and all but bullied Cadance when the latter had been trying to give her a peace offering. Sunset had gotten an earful from Celestia from night, which only increased the tension between the two.
She had fled through the portal less than a year later.
“Sunset? Are you here?”
Celestia’s voice snapped Sunset out of her reverie and she shook her head, setting down her plate.
“Just thinking about my last Hearth’s Warming with you,” she said quietly, her head bowed.
“Oh, Sunset,” Celestia said, her voice soft and motherly. “That was a long time ago. I’ve forgiven you.”
“Not sure she has.”
“You do have to apologize for that happen,” Celestia said. “Speaking of Cadance...” She trailed and two seconds later, there was a bright flash of golden light in front of Sunset’s face.
The object in front of her - small, light box in haphazard gift-wrap - was instantly recognizable.
“You never did open this,” Celestia finished, a mischievous smile on her face. Sunset tore open the gift with fervor.
Fate, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor. Years ago, when a young Sunset had first moved in the castle, she had offered Celestia a hoof-and-horn painted portrait, capturing herself and her mentor sharing a tender, loving moment. A few years later, when a young Cadance had moved in the castle, she offered Sunset a similar gift.
The gift that Sunset was holding in her magic, the one she had never bothered to open, turned out a simple photograph. One that captured Cadance, Sunset and Celestia at the dining table during Cadance’s first breakfast at the castle. Back when Sunset was civil enough to eat with her.
Tears flowed freely down Sunset’s cheeks and she didn’t bother to wipe them off. Years of pent-up remorse and guilt welled inside her and she swore she would make it up to Cadance somehow.
She looked up at Celestia, who was also crying. “Thank you.”
That evening, the villa was filled with warm food, smiles and pleasant conversation between a mother and daughter, both trying to make up for lost time.