It is said among those who have many winters to their name that “This, too, shall pass”. It is a reminder that the good things cannot last forever, the sun will one day set and the green grass will be hidden beneath snow. But so too is it a promise that hardships will fade away, leaving those behind them stronger for the having of them. The snow will melt, the sun will rise, and the spring will seem all the sweeter for it. Whether these words carry true meaning, or exist simply as an old saying that has managed to stick around, is determined only by the decision of those who take it to heart and keep it in mind. Perhaps that is why it has endured for so long.
Twilight had thought for most of the feast that this, too, would pass. Every smiling face sent through her a tiny pang of regret, every kind word a little thrill of fear. Of course her followers were happy for the moment, or at least they appeared to be, but the morning of Hearth’s Warming loomed large in the back of her mind.
Her talk with Celestia hadn’t helped matters, either. She, too, would pass. Maybe sooner than she thought. Celestia wouldn’t leave her alive for long, she was sure of it. Of course she would put on a brave face for those around her, Tarantella and Spike and Radiant Zenith, who seemed to know her so well, but deep inside she was terrified.
She was terrified of failure, of failing those who looked up to her, of caving under pressure at the worst possible moment. She was terrified of failure on a personal level, her hidden longing for home, her uncertainties in her own knowledge and abilities, her fear of letting others close in case they too betrayed her. She was terrified of losing those she cared about, and those she didn’t know. Though she wouldn’t admit it, even to herself, Twilight Sparkle was terrified for her old friends in Ponyville, who even now labored under somepony they thought of as a goddess and she thought of as a tyrant.
Twilight Sparkle shifted in her bed, the warmth of the covers keeping the chill of the early winter morning at bay. She sank her head back into her pillow, hoping that she might be able to fall back into sleep and keep her fear at bay for a while longer, but it stubbornly eluded her, dancing on the edges of her mind just out of reach.
Grumbling a bit, she opened her eyes just enough to let light in. She closed them again sharply, bright white piercing to the heart of her and dispelling any further thoughts of sleep. Her brow furrowed and she opened her eyes once more, this time determined to keep them open. White light flooded her vision once more, but this time she forced her eyes to remain open. Gradually, the light resolved itself into color, shape and form. Blearily she blinked once, twice, trying to clear her vision. When it did finally clear, Twilight’s breath caught in her throat.
Tarantella lay facing her, her normally-fierce eyes closed in peaceful slumber, the lines on her face smoothed away by sleep. The silver of her coat rippled with deep, even breaths, her wings giving the occasional twitch, brushing against her side gently as she dreamed. Her mane was tousled, falling in silky waves in front of her face and fluttering with her breathing. Her mouth was slightly open, one foreleg draped over Twilight protectively. The light from the window behind her framed her, all of her, and Twilight thought to herself then that she had never seen anything so beautiful in her life.
They lay there like that, Twilight admiring her as she slept, sharing the quiet of a still winter morning. But as all things do, the moment passed. Tarantella stirred, half-stretched, and her eyes fluttered open, the beautiful gold of them meeting Twilight’s own amaranthine eyes. She gave her lover a lazy half-smile, pulling her closer.
“Good morning, Cara Mia,” she said. “How did you sleep?”
Twilight returned the smile. “I slept well. Better with you here. How about you?”
Tarantella’s wing stretched behind her before draping over them both. “It is not a cloud,” she said, “But I cannot think of another place I would rather sleep than the bed you are in.”
The silence stretched between them once more, luxurious and amiable, like another blanket between them and the world. Twilight looked to the foot of the bed.
“The fire’s gone out,” she said.
Tarantella shrugged. “I am not bothered.”
Twilight laughed. “I mean it’s Hearth’s Warming,” she said. “We’re supposed to have a fire in every hearth, otherwise the name doesn’t make sense!”
“Do you have to do it now?” Tara asked. “I would rather you stay here with me.”
Twilight smiled. “Who said anything about getting out of bed?”
Her horn flashed, and the logs by the fireplace stacked themselves in the hearth. Another flash, and they began to smoke and crackle merrily. The scent of oranges and spice filled the air, rising from the treated logs.
“There,” Twilight said. “Better.”
Tara gave a pleased little moan and snuggled in closer to her. “Better.”
There was more silence as the two of them merely lay there and enjoyed feeling one another breathe, two hearts becoming one.
Twilight reflected. Perhaps…perhaps it was alright for her to not be perfect. Maybe she was allowed to be worried about keeping those she loved safe. It certainly wouldn’t help them any. Hardship was hardship, and all she could do was her very best to fix it. It was a lesson she would need to take to heart, she decided. For her benefit, and the benefit of those around her.
“Your thoughts, Altro Ala Mia?”
“Tara, are you ever…disappointed in me?”
The Pegasus shifted, looking up at her lover. “What brings this on?”
Twilight swallowed. “I just…I sometimes feel like I’m not good enough. Like everyone is counting on me to help them, and I’m not good enough to help. And I know that I’m never going to be perfect, but do you think I’m, y’know…good enough?”
Tara was silent for a moment. “Let us see,” she said thoughtfully, “You are a bit stubborn at times. You aren’t very attentive when it comes to those you care about. You are forgetful about the silliest things. I sometimes feel like you like the books in the library more than you like me, and I am glad to have cooks in the kitchen, because your food is somewhat…underwhelming.”
She bopped Twilight gently on the nose. “But you are kind, and hardworking, and you always put down your books for me in the end. You remember the important things. You truly care for those around you with all of your heart, though you sometimes try to hide it. And your food is improving. In all, my love, you are far beyond ‘good enough’. You are not perfect, but nopony is. And I love you as you are. Does that answer your question?”
Twilight smiled, feeling a warmth in her chest. “Yes, Tara. It does. Happy Hearth’s Warming.”
“And to you, Cara Mia. And to you.”
Suddenly, the bell tower across the way began to ring, the heavy brass bell reverberating through the thick stone of the tower like the voice of thunder itself. Twilight’s eyes shot wide open.
“The scouts!” she exclaimed, springing from her bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window she flew like a flash, tearing aside the curtains and throwing up the sash. The luster of the sun on new fallen snow gave an eerie shine to the objects below.
Twilight shivered, calling a cloak to her and wrapping it around her neck. Across the castle, all was covered in white and ice, shimmering a thousand different shades of cream. A few Pegasi took to the wing, spots of color against the white of the ground, spiraling up into a cloudless clear sky and whooping with excitement. The single tone of the bell was joined by another, and then another and another, all the bells in the belfry ringing out bright and clear in the winter morning.
“What is it?” Tara asked, joining her by the window. “Can you see?
Twilight shook her head. “No,” she said, “I can’t see anything.”
A Pegasus swooped by the window. “The river!” she cried, “Look at the river!”
“The river?” Tara asked, “I thought it was frozen over!”
Twilight blinked. “So did I,” she said.
The river which flowed by the Regia gleamed silver in the morning, solitary bits of ice moving sedately along its length as carried by a sluggish current, but a current nonetheless.
“Cara Mia!” Tara cried, pointing, “Look!”
Twilight looked, and her eyes grew wide with delight. There, moving down the river, were ships! The barges she had sent for supplies had finally been able to make their way upstream! And even from a distance, Twilight could see that they were all of them laden with supplies. Bags of barley, wheat, barrels of apples and drink piled as high as they could go across what must have been two dozen low barges, even now reaching the shore of the Regia.
“Oh, Twilight!” Tara breathed. “It is a miracle!”
“Come on,” Twilight said, “We’re going down there to check it out.”
There was a joining of hooves, a brief flash of light, and soon silence lay over the chamber once more.
It is said among those with many winters to their name that “This, too, shall pass”.
The waterfront was a mess of ponies jostling with one another in jubilation, catching armfuls of packages and hauling away cartfuls of supplies, all while chatting amiably with the barge workers, one another, and even themselves as they expressed their thanks and relief. The unloading was practically a festival, so wonderful was the air!
It was so loud, in fact, that the loud bang of Twilight and Tarantella’s arrival almost went unnoticed. Almost. Immediately, those nearest to the couple moved aside, their voices hushed. The sea of ponies parted for them as Twilight and Tara moved as one to the docks where the unloading was taking place.
“Captain!” Twilight called as they approached the barge. “It’s good to see you again.”
The Captain of the procession, a stallion bundled in a waterproofed jacket, knelt before her. “Lady Twilight,” he said, “I’m so sorry we were this late! The ice was so thick, and…”
Twilight’s eyes sparkled. “Captain, I’m not reprimanding you! We’re all very glad to see you! We were worried about how to get by after today, but that’s behind us. I have to ask, though, how did you get through the ice?”
“It was a miracle, Lady Twilight!” he said. “We were stuck at least twenty miles upstream, breaking ice as thick as the barges and worrying sick, when the most wondrous thing happened just last night!”
“What was it?” Tara asked.
The barge Captain eyed her suspiciously, looking to Twilight for approval. Twilight nodded. “Go on,” she said. “Tell us.”
“Last night, the river caught fire,” the Captain said. “Bright purple flames came rushing downstream, cracking the ice and breaking it up with big gouts of steam filling the air. We were afraid the barges would burn, but the fire didn’t even scorch them! One of our deckhands even went over the side for a moment, and the flames didn’t leave a mark on him!” He shuffled his hooves nervously. “That’s the story, Lady Twilight,” he said. “It was a miracle, plain and simple. A Hearth’s Warming Miracle.”
Twilight looked to Tarantella, who looked back at her, encouraging her to speak.
“It was a miracle,” she said. “And one all the more powerful because it was the ponies here that did it.”
She raised her voice, addressing the gathering crowd. “You are all responsible for this!” she cried. “You, who chose to come together in times of trouble, instead of drifting apart from one another. You, who chose to face adversity with courage and good cheer, instead of worrying about what might be! You, ponies all, brothers and sisters and fathers and mothers and sons and daughters, all of you! Your hearts were warm enough to bring the old magic back, bright enough to show us all that the old ways of Harmony can still work miracles! This truly is a Hearth’s Warming Miracle!”
The ponies cheered, raising their hooves in the air.
“Come!” Twilight shouted, indicating the barges. “There’s work to be done! You all realized your own hopes! Tonight we can sleep soundly! Together, with such harmony between us, what challenge couldn’t we overcome? What obstacles could remain unchallenged? Ponies of the Everfree, Hearth’s Warming means more to us than ever before! Now, let’s work together once more, so we can spend today with those we hold most dear!”
There was another cheer, and the ponies surged forward to help unload the barges. Twilight let herself be buffeted by the crowd, knowing that she would meet with Tara soon. Sure enough, two ponies parted, and the Pegasus was in her arms, the warmth she gave Twilight not just a physical heat. Twilight hugged her close, watching as those she truly did care for supported one another, caught up in the spirit of the season.
Twilight was wearing a thin cloak in freezing weather, up to her chest in snow. And yet, she had never felt warmer.