• Published 31st Aug 2018
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SAPR - Scipio Smith



Sunset, Jaune, Pyrrha and Ruby are Team SAPR, and together they fight to defeat the malice of Salem, uncover the truth about Ruby's past and fill the emptiness within their souls.

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Request and Revelation (New)

Request and Revelation

I’m aware that this is quite a request on my part.

I mean, you could certainly say that, yes.

Although, in my defence, it is only two visitors; it’s not like I want you to allow the whole Academy through the portal. However, in my prosecution, I should admit that I didn’t consult with you or Princess Celestia when I probably should have before I told my teammates and Blake and Penny — and Penny must have told Rainbow as well, because there’s nowhere else she could have found out — and your counterpart here in Remnant about Equestria.

Do you trust them?

I wouldn’t have told them if I didn’t.

Then I don’t consider that a problem, and I don’t think Princess Celestia would consider it a problem either. Your new request, on the other hoof, well, that’s something else, isn’t it?

Sunset ran one hand through her hair. Yes, her new request. The request that she probably should have made before she had spoken to Penny, but … well, she’d seemed so down, and after they’d gotten to talking about Equestria…

It seemed the right thing to do at the time. Although that doesn’t mean much, it wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve done what seemed to be the right thing at the time, only for it to turn out to be emphatically the wrong thing. However, as far as I can see at the moment, this not only seemed like the right thing at the time, but it still seems like the right thing.

Twilight did not reply. Not at once, not for some time. Not for so long, in fact, that Sunset began to wonder if something had happened to her; nothing serious, she hoped. Nothing serious, she thought; this was Equestria, after all; it wasn’t likely that some masked home invader had burst into the library and taken Princess Twilight hostage — not least because they didn’t have home invaders in Equestria, or guns for that matter. However, it was not beyond the bonds of possibility that Twilight had been called away on some urgent business — a summons from Princess Celestia telling her that she needed to put on a play or organise a reception for visiting ambassadors or save the world or something; Twilight’s days seemed to consist of a mixture of such things — in which case, Sunset might be waiting for some time. Twilight might not even get back to her until tomorrow or later.

Still, Sunset sat. She was presently in the library, dark and silent, where the light above her kept intermittently going out because she wasn’t moving around enough to trigger the motion sensors.

She had been spending more and more time here over the last few nights. She couldn’t sleep, and she didn’t want to disturb the others — only Yang was allowed to spend nights at the hospital with Ruby, since she was her actual blood-and-law kin; although they would have all liked to have spent at least some nights with her, it wasn’t allowed — so she haunted the library in the middle of the night, reading or looking up pointless trivia on the computers, coming up with team attacks that did or did not make sense, depending on just how sleep-deprived and fogged over her mind was at the time — Pyrrha throwing Jaune with her semblance was not a good idea, and she would not be sharing it with the rest of the team. Sometimes, she fell asleep here; sometimes, she went back to the dorm room after midnight and collapsed into bed for a few hours before waking up to start the new day.

Even then, sometimes, she didn’t sleep. Whether she slept or not, it made her feel no more refreshed than she had been before, no less tired; waking or sleeping, she was haunted by the dead.

They hovered around her, whispering in her ears.

Who is the other?

You’re back.

I wasn’t gone that long.

You were gone for a little bit.

Who is the other?

What do you mean?

You said that you only wanted for two people to come to visit Equestria; one of them is Penny, but who is the other?

Oh, yes. I think that Blake might get something out of it as well.

Really?

Really. Penny isn’t the only one who had a rough time down in Mountain Glenn. To be honest, many people had a rough time down beneath Mountain Glenn, but Penny and Blake had it amongst the worst, and I think they would get something out of visiting Equestria that others would not.

Twilight: Was it bad?

Sunset stared down at those three words. Was it bad? Was it bad when Blake had to fight the man she loved and watch him die?

Was it bad? Was it bad when Penny was broken, to all intents and purposes?

Was it bad? Was it bad when Jaune lost the ancestral sword, his connection to his heroic past?

Was it bad? Was it bad when Ruby got put into a coma saving the rest of them?

Was it bad? Was it bad when Sunset got six people killed?

Was it bad?

Three words. Three words which, however innocently meant and well-intentioned, seemed scarcely adequate to encompass everything that had gone on beneath Mountain Glenn, all that they had done and all that they had suffered.

Yes, is the short answer. As for the long answer, I scarcely know where to begin. We were not prepared.

You’re not talking in physical terms, are you?

No. Would that I was. No, we were not prepared for what we would find down there, or for what it would demand of us to survive.

But you did survive.

Yes. Yes, we survived.

You don’t really want to talk about it, do you?

No. Although that doesn’t preclude the possibility that I should.

She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts, staring down at the page and at the words she had already written. What to say? How to go on? How much to explain? What to leave out? She decided to be very brief, to not go into too many details, to say only what was necessary to convey the harrowing nature of what they had been through down there underneath Mountain Glenn.

We came under repeated attack. Which would have been a little wearing but which we could have weathered, on its own. But it was not on its own.

Sunset breathed deeply. There was much of this that she did not want to say, and yet, at the same time, she felt that she ought to say it, not only in the interests of truth, but because … because Twilight was the only person to whom she could say some of it.

We met Salem under there.

You mean the Mistress of the Grimm? The immortal enemy?

The very same.

She was there supervising the attack herself?

No, I suppose I ought to clarify that it wasn’t exactly her in person; it was a projection of her. She had a creature, like a crystal ball with tentacles sticking out of the bottom

Thank you for that mental image.

You should thank me, I haven’t described the worst of it, nor will I. But the point is that she appeared to us in the crystal ball-like thing. She showed herself to us.

What was she like?

She looked like the corpse of a drowned woman.

Again, thank you for that mental image.

Trust me, it isn’t any nicer for me to think of either.

She thought that possibly the only reason she wasn’t having nightmares about Salem was that she was having nightmares about the six dead Valish instead. There was even an extent to which that was preferable.

She wasn’t a pretty sight.

Evil seldom is, I must admit. Chrysalis gave me nightmares for a fortnight after my brother’s wedding.

The changeling queen?

She has holes in her. Holes! As though she is starting to rot away, as though maggots and grubs are eating her up from the inside out. It’s unnatural.

And, being unnatural, it is creepy and disturbing in equal measure.

Just like Salem, I take it?

That was not the worst part.

She took a deep breath. Her hand trembled slightly as she held the pen.

She got inside our heads. She played on our fears and our desires; she put the fear in us: in the Rosepetals, in Pyrrha, in Blake, even in Ruby. I didn’t think anyone or anything could get to Ruby like that, but she reduced her to a huddled, sobbing mess on the floor with a few words.

I take it that they weren’t just very well chosen words?

I would bet everything I own that there was magic at work.

To what end? I mean, why was she even doing that?

To delay us? To see what we were made of? For fun? I don’t know what was in her mind, and I’m not sure that I want to.

And you?

And me?

Were you affected by her?

Sunset paused. She closed her eyes, screwed them up tight. She found her breathing becoming more rapid.

Yes. Yes, I was. I tried to hide it in front of the others, I even think I did a pretty good job of hiding it, but yes, she got to me. She threatened my friends, made me angry; at first, I was glad of it, for the anger gave me the strength to shatter her orb, and her power with it. She was gone, she couldn’t trouble us any more — not that she’s dead, you understand, the real Salem is still out there somewhere — but after the anger fled, there was only the fear. The fear of losing them. That was why, when Adam showed his face, I did something very stupid.

Go on.

I grabbed him and teleported him away so that I could fight him alone with no one else around me.

Yes, you’re right, that was stupid.

Ruby was there; he already nearly killed her once.

Nearly killed you as well, something which I haven’t mentioned to Princess Celestia.

An omission for which I am very grateful, believe me. I wouldn’t want her to worry.

But you’re fine with me worrying?

Do you worry about me?

It’s the middle of the night; do you think I’d still be up writing to you if I didn’t care?

Sunset hadn’t considered that in any sense, a fact for which she felt guilty, now that it had been pointed out to her.

I’m sorry, I should have considered; go to bed, we can pick this up tomorrow or some other time.

It’s fine, please, go on.

Obviously, it isn’t fine, or you wouldn’t have brought it up.

I’m more concerned with the fact that — as we established very early on — it’s the middle of the night for you as well. What are you doing up so late?

I like the nights, I get my best thinking done at this time.

There was a pause before any reply came from Twilight.

Evidently, you survived Adam, or you wouldn’t be writing to me, so what happened?

I fought him. I did better than he might have expected, but not brilliantly. I fear my luck was running out before Blake came to my aid. She fought him, and again, did well enough, but not brilliantly. The tide was turning in his favour before I killed him.

A few moments passed, absent any kind of reply.

I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t congratulate you.

Believe me, I don’t want congratulations. I know that I sought this. I know that I spoke to you about wanting it, and about the necessity to do it, but once the moment came, once I actually did it, I felt none of the joy or vindication that I had expected. I did what I had to do in that moment, to protect Blake, but it brought me no pleasure. It has brought me some glory, which would have pleased me once upon a time, but now, it does nothing for me. I killed a man, and that is no longer something for which I wish to be celebrated. I didn’t take his sword, I didn’t crow about it, I only took credit for it because I’d rather the White Fang came after me for revenge than Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune, or Blake. Blake saw him die, and before that, she found out that maybe he wasn’t irredeemably awful after all. He had taken Fluttershy and Applejack — the human versions of Fluttershy and Applejack — hostage, and yet, he let Fluttershy go. Out of the kindness of his heart, or because her heart moved him to kindness, one of the two.

Is there that much difference? Fluttershy is an amazing pony — my Fluttershy, this — but I don’t believe that she can create kindness in a heart that has no trace of such.

What about Discord?

Discord is actually a perfect example. Fluttershy didn’t make him kind; she didn’t banish evil from him and replace it with goodness. I don’t think she even planted the seed of kindness in him. But she gave it room to grow; she watered it and shone the sunlight on that seed. I believe that any kindness Adam showed her was in him all along, however well hidden.

Sunset screwed her eyes tight shut for a moment. Should it be seven lives for which I feel guilty?

You’ll forgive me if I don’t pass that on to Blake. I doubt it would make her feel any better.

Or you?

That’s less important, but no, it doesn’t make me feel any better either.

I’m sorry, but I’m not sure that there’s anything I could have said in this situation that would have made you feel better.

No. I think you’re probably right. I much preferred when I could think of him as a mad dog.

It may bring you no joy, but I think that it might be better this way; perhaps you should remember this, before you decide you have the right to deal out death and judgement: that which you see of your enemies is not all that there is in them to be seen.

At the moment, it’s Pyrrha who needs to learn that, not me. She is upset with herself that Cinder escaped her. Another one who has more to her than is seen by the world. She frightens Pyrrha the way that Adam frightened me, and in her fear, she seeks her death as I sought his. Like me, she sought to confront Cinder alone, unaided. Jaune was somewhat put out with her about that.

Is Pyrrha okay? I’m guessing you would have mentioned it earlier if she wasn’t, but is she?

She is physically unharmed, which is more than can be said for Penny or Ruby; she believes that we won the battle, which is more than can be said for Jaune or Blake. She is probably the best of us, in terms of her condition; whether that alone allows her to rise to the level of being said to be okay is a question that is harder to answer. I wish that I could help them all. I wish that I could take their pains, even if it means taking them upon myself, I wish there was some spell that

Sunset paused for a moment.

Now, there’s an idea.

No. No, there really isn’t.

Sunset sighed. Unfortunately, you’re probably right. If there was such a spell, it would probably have side effects, like causing amnesia or something.

I’ll go further and say that amnesia would probably be the intent of this hypothetical spell, to make people forget their emotion, or the event that triggered it. That’s not a route I recommend.

Is there anything that you do recommend?

You could talk to your friends as well as to me; instead of wishing that you could shoulder all their pain upon yourself, why don’t you try and share it around all of you?

I don’t think anyone is in the mood to talk about it.

I can understand that, but it doesn’t mean they shouldn’t. What about Professor Goodwitch, didn’t she help Jaune deal with his problems after the battle on the train?

Yes. Yes, she did.

She could help again.

I trust her less than I did before I knew that she was a part of Professor Ozpin’s network, but I will consider it. Will you at least consider my request?

Provided that it was carefully managed so that no one could accidentally find their way into Equestria, I would have no objections in principle, and given that you trust both Penny and Blake, I don’t think that Princess Celestia would have any objections either. As for whether or not it can be done, I actually have an idea as to how that might be accomplished, and this will give me an excuse to put it into practice.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. You do? The practicalities were the obstacle I thought would be the hardest to overcome.

I actually need to credit Pinkie with this; I was discussing with my friends some time ago how, even if you wanted to come home to Equestria, it would be impossible since the portal between our two worlds is closed except at certain times. Pinkie pointed out to me that, although the portal is closed, our worlds are still connected via these journals that we communicate with.

So you can apply the magic of the journal to the mirror to enable it to work at will, while you can still use the journal to write to me any time when the mirror portal is not in use. That’s actually quite brilliant; and that was Pinkie Pie’s idea?

You’ll forgive me if I don’t dignify that with a response.

Sorry.

There was no need for me to see if it actually worked before now, although I’m pretty sure it will. What I’m not so sure of is how this will help Penny or Blake.

As for Blake: Equestria is a post-racial society, to all intents and purposes, having put aside old divisions and come together in a spirit of harmony and equality. I think it would do her good to see that such a thing is possible, even if it does take time and hard work.

I’m not sure about the extent of the comparisons between the three pony tribes and humans and faunus in Remnant, but I see your point. And Penny?

I think Penny would enjoy it.

Surely you could say that about any number of people?

Perhaps, but Penny was the one who said that she’d love to see my home for herself. And I think, sweet as she is, that she would enjoy it more than anyone else that I could think of.

I suppose that’s as good a reason as any. As I say, I don’t have any objections to the two of them, and although I won’t claim to speak for Princess Celestia

You have as good a claim as any pony does to speak for Princess Celestia.

Nevertheless, I won’t presume, save to say that I don’t think she’ll object.

Thank you, Twilight. I will pass that on, and I’m sure Penny will be delighted. I’ll let you know when she’s fit to travel.

And I’ll let you know when the portal will admit her — and Blake. What do you think Penny will become on the other side of the mirror?

I really have no idea.

Neither do I, but it’s fascinating to ponder, isn’t it?

A moment passed, and then another, before Twilight continued.

I don’t suppose we can expect you to pay a visit to Equestria with them? You could come as a chaperone.

They don’t need a chaperone, or at least Blake will be a more than adequate chaperone for Penny. They might need a guide; can I ask you to take care of that?

I will do it, but so could you if you were inclined. You know that Princess Celestia would be delighted to see you. I’d kind of like to meet you face to face as well.

I mean no disrespect to Princess Celestia, and no insult to you, when I say that it cannot be so. I have not earned the right.

I see. You have not earned the right, well, that’s quite understandable, isn’t it? Are you ready to talk about yourself now?

Sunset frowned.

What do you mean?

I mean that it’s the middle of the night, and you’re still up with no indication that you were planning to turn in any time soon; you’ve mentioned what a rough time everyone had down in Mountain Glenn, but you haven’t said much about yourself, you’ve talked about taking everyone else’s burdens on your shoulders while glossing over your own, you just told me that you don’t have the right to come back to Equestria, and even before that, you talked about things not working out the way you expected; now just what am I supposed to take away from that? What’s going on, Sunset, what happened down there?

Once more, Sunset’s hand trembled. Once more, she stared down at the page in front of her. She felt ice enclose its cold grip around her stomach.

And yet, if not to Twilight, then who can I confess to?

But her hand kept trembling as she began to write the words.

Adam is not the only death upon my conscience.

I’m sorry. Are these more enemies? All your friends are accounted for?

Neither friends nor enemies.

She hesitated, considering how she could even begin to phrase this.

Princess, what would you do if you had to choose between your friends and some kind of higher cause, higher purpose, that sort of thing? If you had to choose between the many and the few, but you knew the few and the many were strangers to you, what would you choose?

I chose my friends.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. Did she just…?

Come again?

Are you surprised that something like that could happen in Equestria?

Sunset could almost feel the heaviness behind each word; she could sense the weariness within them.

It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that happens in the land that I remember. Would you like to talk about it?

Are you enjoying this?

No. Not at all. Not in the least bit, not for a single moment. I just want to know if you want to talk about it. Truth to tell, I feel ashamed for wittering on about myself for so long and ignoring your burdens. I have been very selfish. I didn’t even consider that you might be weighed down. I marvel that you’ve been so patient with me.

It’s fine, really. I don’t begrudge your desire for counsel. I know that my life is a great deal easier than yours, on the whole.

But would you like to talk about a time when it was not so?

There was a moment of pause, when no new words appeared on the paper, before Twilight’s distinctive, elegant hornwriting resumed.

Tirek escaped from Tartarus recently. Did Celestia teach you about him?

No. But if he escaped from Tartarus, I’m guessing that he can’t be anyone good.

He wasn’t. He was a I don’t suppose it really matters what he was. But he escaped, and he started consuming magic. All of it, from unicorns and pegasi and earth ponies alike, it was all the same to him. It was all power. Nobody could stop him, so Celestia, Luna, and Cadance gave up their alicorn magic to me so that I could hide it. Hide it or use it, if I had to.

Which, of course, you did.

Yes. He found me, and I fought him. I couldn’t beat him, but he couldn’t beat me either. We were at a stalemate, evenly matched, but when it came down to it, I traded all the alicorn magic in Equestria to him in exchange for my friends the moment that he took them hostage and threatened their lives. They even told me not to do it. But I did it anyway. I handed Equestria over to a monster because those girls mean everything to me. I’d give my life for them, but I don’t think that I could live without them.

I know exactly what you mean. Believe me, I know exactly what you mean. Fortunately, the very fact that you are able to write to me implies some reversal in your fortunes.

Indeed, thank goodness. We were able to defeat Tirek; he could absorb all of our magic except for the magic of friendship that bound us together. That was how we beat him.

If only I could say the same.

I’m glad you’re okay, at least. And Princess Celestia too.

But there really is no backing out now.

I had a choice of my own to make. The White Fang’s plan was to load their army upon a train and use a great quantity of stolen dust to blow a way into the city itself. Cinder’s plan was to have that train followed by a great horde of grimm — it was they, and not the White Fang, whom she trusted to overrun the defences of Vale and lay waste to the city. If we had known, or at least if I had known then what she intended, or if I had thought about it for long enough and not let the wild enthusiasm of Ruby and the others carry me off, I would have ordered a withdrawal from Mountain Glenn.

But I was not so wise, and we were so eager and so vain of our skill, and everyone else was so determined to do all they could and risk all that they were to save Vale that we boarded the train before the grimm pursuit began. With my magic, I reached the front of the train first; we planned to stop it in its tracks and make a barrier of it.

I reached the front of the train and found the detonator there. A detonator, at least, Rainbow — my Rainbow Dash — tells me there must have been another in Cinder’s possession, but in any case, I found a detonator there. A detonator and Cinder’s voice, informing me that all other exits out of the tunnel had been sealed off, there was no way out from underground except to use the detonator and blast a path into the city.

As I say, I had a choice to make: I could either guarantee the safety of the city in exchange for what seemed to me to be a certain chance that my friends would perish, or I could put the city at risk in exchange for increasing the chance that my friends would be safe.

And you, too, chose your friends, just as I did.

But I was not so fortunate as you. We won the battle, and the city was saved — but not without loss. As I said, I have more deaths upon my conscience than just Adam Taurus. The Atlesian military was alerted to the impending attack — by your counterpart, as it happens — but six people died nevertheless: five civilians and one of my classmates.

I’m sorry to hear that.

There was a delay before she added. Forgive me, I scarcely know what else to say.

You wanted to know what the matter was with me.

I did, and I thank you for telling me. It’s just that now you have told me, I do not know how I should respond.

If you wish to condemn me, I will bear it.

No. No, I will not do that. I do not have the right. You chose your friends, as I did, I will not condemn you for being less fortunate than I, for not possessing the key to victory as I did, for not having access to a magic that would redeem all errors as I did.

Of course, that being so, I have no right to absolve you of your guilt, either. For we are guilty of the same mistakes, only I am preserved from consequence in ways that you are not.

You think your actions a mistake, then? And mine, too?

In truth, I know not. A part of me fears — and thinks, what is more — it must be so, but there are other parts of me that feel otherwise. Sunset, do you regret your choice?

No. I do not regret my choice. I regret the consequences that flowed out of my choice, I regret the deaths that resulted from it, but I would make the same choice again if I had to. I do not have it in me to condemn Pyrrha, Ruby, Jaune, Blake, or even Rainbow Dash to death. I do not have it in me. I am not made of such. And yet, though I do not regret the choice, nevertheless, like you, I fear it was the wrong choice. I am certain sure that it was not the choice of a hero.

Then it appears that we are neither of us heroes.

Oh, come on! I defy any biographer to tally up the number of times you have saved Equestria and then say that you are not a hero.

Is that all there is to call oneself a hero? Deeds? A tally of the number of times the world was saved? The number of foes vanquished? I think you know better than that; being a hero is a quality of heart and spirit

And you have both, or else Princess Celestia would not have placed her faith in you.

She placed her faith in you, once, yet that does not stop your self-reproaches.

Touché, and yet you cannot deny that you have walked the path with more success than I.

And yet, here we are. When Princess Celestia asked me to bear this charge, I declared that I was ready to do my duty as a princess of Equestria. Literally, my exact words as I stood in the throne room were ‘This is the role I am meant to play as a princess of Equestria! I will not fail to do my duty!’ Looking back at that moment, and those words, I almost want to cringe at the unearned pride and baseless arrogance on display. I was puffed up on destiny and the well-intentioned praise that Princess Celestia and Princess Luna and Cadance had all showered on me to convince me that I could do this.

Trust me, you aren’t alone when it comes to unearned pride and baseless arrogance. There are things that I said and thought going into Mountain Glenn that, like you, make me want to cringe. I was so cocky, so confident, I told myself that I could defy anything that fate had in store for us, and I convinced the others of it too.

I thought that I had finally found my destiny, the reason why I had become a princess, the reason I’d been given these wings, I thought that this was what I was meant to do, the part that I was meant to play. Now

Twilight paused for a few moments before continuing the sentence.

I am not sure that it was so.

At least you can say that it is appropriate for a Princess of Friendship to choose her friends over the greater good.

I don’t find that very funny.

Then it’s a good thing I wasn’t trying to be funny, isn’t it? I was trying to offer some small comfort, although I do not say that I was doing well.

If that is what it means to be Princess of Friendship, then is a Princess of Friendship such a good thing for Equestria to have?

Yes, as it happens. How else was Tirek to be defeated? Destiny, it seems, moves in a mysterious way. You should take comfort from that.

In ways that you cannot?

It didn’t all resolve so neatly for me.

She ran one hand through her fiery hair.

They haunt me, Twilight.

Who?

The dead, Sky and all the rest of them.

This feels like eavesdropping on the relatives of a patient in hospital.

Sorry, I impose too much.

It’s not your fault, I just don’t know what to say. I can’t imagine anything like it. I’m sorry.

I’m not the one who deserves your sorrow.

Your friends know what you did, don’t they?

They were right there, telling me not to do it.

And how have they taken the fact that you did it anyway?

We don’t talk about it. Maybe we should, but they don’t seem to want to, and I don’t want to either. Perhaps it’s better that way, as strange as it seems to suggest such a thing. Perhaps there is such a thing as too much honesty, and we can all go on pretending that it didn’t happen. It’s certainly easier than the alternative. Do your friends

No. Well, Rainbow Dash knows. She tells me that I shouldn’t take it so hard. She tells me that Cinder wouldn’t leave her plan to chance on the risk that I would choose not to detonate the mine. She thinks that my actions didn’t change anything.

Have you considered that she might be right?

I have, but I don’t see that it matters. Whether or not things would have happened the same way regardless of what I did, the fact remains that I did this thing, and other things resulted. The rest of my friends don’t know, and they can never know; there’s no way that they’d forgive me for it.

I should probably tell you to take the risk and be surprised by their capacity for forgiveness, but I don’t have the right to do that either, as we’ve just discussed. But are you so certain of their reaction?

I am certain of Ruby’s reaction, at the least. She would have condemned us all.

Forgive me, but that doesn’t sound like an altogether good thing.

I agree with you, but, as we’ve already established, we’re not heroes, unlike Ruby. Goodnight, Princess Twilight, I will not keep you up any more.

Will you at least try to get some sleep yourself?

I will try, yes. Goodnight.

Let me just leave you with one more thought: it’s no bad thing to care about your friends, or to fear to lose them. You’ve come a long way, Sunset, don’t forget that. Goodnight.

Goodnight, Princess.

She shut the book, and pushed it across the table away from her a little bit, and let out a long sigh as she threw back her head.

Contrary to what she had said to Twilight, she made no move to get up and go to bed herself. She didn’t even try. She just sat there, staring up at the light until it turned off from her lack of movement, at which point, she was just sitting there, staring up at a dark ceiling, waiting … for what?

She had no idea.

The light switched on again, not just over Sunset’s head but all around, the lights switching on leading towards the way into the library. Sunset looked around to see Pyrrha approaching, Pyrrha clad in her huntress gear, with the pale library lights reflecting off the bronze of her armour and the golden band around her arm and the circlet upon her brow. Her ponytail swung behind her ever so slightly as she approached, with her hands resting by her sides. Her footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent library.

Her brow was slightly furrowed, pinching her pale face as she walked towards Sunset.

“Did you know,” she said softly, as if the library were full of people she feared to disturb, “that whenever you use your scroll to gain access to any part of the campus, it logs your location?”

“No,” Sunset said, speaking equally softly as her hands reached out towards the magical journal. Her gloved fingertips touched the leather cover. “I didn’t know that.” She paused. “Why are you dressed like that? Up late training with Jaune?”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “Although a few late night training sessions wouldn’t go amiss, if I could find an opponent. As for Jaune, it’s hard to train with a broken sword.”

Sunset winced. “Has he decided what he’s going to do about that?”

“Not yet,” Pyrrha replied. “The point is that I put this on because … because it seemed appropriate, before going into battle.”

“Battle?” Sunset repeated. “Who are you fighting?”

“You, I’m afraid.”

“Me?” Sunset shook her head. “I wouldn’t fight you, Pyrrha. I know better now.”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said reproachfully. “I spoke to Professor Goodwitch because I wanted to know where you were going every night, why your bed was empty. She told me, from your scroll records, that you were coming here. Why?”

Sunset looked away. “I don’t feel like sleeping.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters,” Pyrrha insisted, her voice sharpening. “It matters because you know full well that if I were behaving like this, you would stop at nothing to find out what was going on and how you could fix it. Please don’t be so arrogant as to assume that you are the only one who can notice a friend in trouble or do anything about it.”

Sunset closed her eyes for a moment. “You don’t need to help me, Pyrrha.”

“You wouldn’t let that stop you, either.”

“That’s different.”

“No, it isn’t, and you know it isn’t,” Pyrrha declared. “This is nothing to do with being team leader or not; this … this is a simple matter of friendship. What’s wrong, Sunset? How can I help?”

Sunset did not meet Pyrrha’s eyes. “Your offer is generous, but … I fear that you cannot. Just as I think that…” She trailed off.

If you did tell your friends the truth, they might surprise you.

No. No, I dare not.

“You know what’s wrong,” Sunset finished.

Pyrrha bowed her head a little. “May I sit down?” she asked.

“Be my guest,” Sunset murmured.

Pyrrha took the seat opposite. She looked down at the book beneath Sunset’s fingertips. “That is the book, isn’t it? The magic book?”

Sunset nodded. “It is.”

“And what does your princess say?” Pyrrha asked. “If you can tell me; I don’t ask you to betray any confidences.”

“I mainly talk to … my princess’ latest student, or former latest student,” Sunset explained. “Someone closer to my equal. To my princess, I speak somewhat less frequently. I believe she is well enough, although there were some disturbances recently.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Pyrrha said, “but glad that everything is better now.”

“Things are usually settled fairly swiftly in Equestria,” Sunset said. “Would that the same could be said here.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha whispered. She fell silent for a moment, and then a moment more. “Sunset, misery and grief will not bring Sky and those other five poor souls back to life. Nor will it bring them any aid or comfort for you to … you must live. We all must.”

Sunset raised one eyebrow. “I must confess I’m surprised to hear that from you. That seems … a very modern attitude.”

“You have taken to Mistralian ways very well in some respects, but in this, you are more Valish, or Atlesian,” Pyrrha replied. “In Mistral we do not mourn excessively. We … when my father died, almost as soon as his funeral was over, my mother rolled up her sleeves — metaphorically speaking, of course — and got back to work, managing her lands and portfolio.”

“Some might find that callous,” Sunset observed.

“Perhaps,” Pyrrha allowed. “But how would it serve my father’s spirit for my mother to sink into such a despond that the House of Nikos crumbled into rack and ruin?”

“Is that why you can be so cavalier with your own safety?” Sunset asked. “Because you do not expect Jaune or me or even your own mother to mourn excessively if we lost you?”

“We’re not discussing me.”

“Perhaps we should.”

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “I … my mother, at least—”

“Would die the death, the moment news of your death reached her,” Sunset declared. “What would she have to live for, the future of the House of Nikos being stolen away, her line extinguished? As for Jaune and I, as you correctly point out, we are not Mistralian.”

“Yet it would serve me not if you wept all your tears for me, if you sought hopeless battles, becoming heedless of your own—”

“We cannot always act based solely on what serves others best, not even the dead shades of our dear friends!” Sunset snapped, her voice rising. “We are ruled not always by our heads but by our hearts, our hearts that would be shattered by the loss of you.”

Pyrrha met Sunset’s gaze. “Is your heart shattered now?”

Sunset shook her head. “But my stomach is ill, and my head is guilty.”

Pyrrha pursed her lips together before she spoke. “Death is not something to be sought after eagerly, but nor can it be escaped. It will come for all of us, and for a warrior, it will likely come swifter than for others. If we die ourselves with every loss that we suffer, then … we do not honour those who fell.”

“If Jaune died,” Sunset said, “would you roll up your sleeves — metaphorically, of course — on the day of the funeral?”

“That’s a rather unfair question,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Perhaps, for which I apologise,” Sunset said. “And yet, at the same time, a rather pertinent question, don’t you agree?”

Pyrrha glanced away. “I mean to see that he does not fall.”

“That is not an answer,” Sunset pointed out.

Pyrrha swallowed. “I never claimed to be a perfect Mistralian,” she conceded.

Sunset could not restrain a laugh. “No,” she admitted. “No, you did not; that is very well put. I will concede the point.”

“I would rather you conceded my main point,” Pyrrha said. “We must live, Sunset. For all that we have left to live for.”

Sunset was silent for a moment. Pyrrha … Sunset was not a Mistralian, and yet, Pyrrha talked a great deal of good sense. It was, if truth be told and Sunset be honest, a more sensible attitude than some of the Mistralian pride and honour that Sunset had embraced with greater readiness. It felt like callousness, and yet was it not more callous that she would make again the choice that had condemned those souls to death? How did her not sleeping, or haunting the library, or anything else help the dead, help Sky or any other?

It wasn’t even helping Sunset feel better.

Sunset doubted that anything would help her to feel better, and that was probably as much as she deserved, but while she was feeling guilty, she could at least be useful to the people who were still counting on her — Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby when she woke up — instead of a melancholy lump or sleep-deprived mess.

Sunset would not sleep the sleep of the just — she was under no illusions on that score — but she could at least rest her weary body for more than a few snatched hours.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Pyrrha smiled with equal softness as in Sunset’s voice. “Any time,” she said. She got up and held out her dark-gloved hand. “Are you coming?”

Sunset picked up the journal with one hand, and placed the other into Pyrrha’s palm, and let the other girl lead her out of the library as the lights went dark behind them.

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