Chapter 5 – Storm Before the Calm
On any other day, Sunset would have been giddy to receive an invitation to Princess Celestia’s personal study. It had been her haven as a filly. Many of her fondest memories involved cozying up in a nest of plush, purple cushions, working on her homework by the light of candles that shouldn’t have been bright enough to illuminate the chamber, yet were. The princess herself would be there too, of course, and her presence would warm Sunset nearly as much as the everburning fireplace, the mouth of which could have passed for a gateway to another realm. The picture turned perfect whenever Philomena joined in, most often asleep on her perch by the stained-glass night sky mosaic.
The princess had invited her there less and less as she’d grown older, but that only helped to preserve the magic. Within these walls, nothing bothered her. She could check any and all distress at the door and shut out the rest of the world. Everything she needed was right there.
Unfortunately, tonight would ruin all that. Not only would she have to tolerate an invader in her sanctum, but she hadn’t even actually been invited—not by the princess, anyway. She was only there as an accessory to the real conversation. Sit tight, Sunset. The Princesses are speaking. Combine that with the cold pebbles still rolling around in her gut from earlier, and she would never feel the same about this place again.
Just one more thing Cadance has stolen from me. Add it to the list.
She stowed the thought in her mental junk drawer and focused on the opportunity at hoof. A better chance to learn about the Everheart wasn’t likely to come around, so she had to make the most of it. Princess Celestia would probably cover the broad strokes of what she wanted to know, but she would have to play her cards right to get all the details. Thankfully she had a few aces in hoof, not the least being that she had a right to understand something that had attacked her.
Should worse come to worst, she could always play up her trauma if she needed more information. It wouldn’t even be that hard, considering…
Well, considering.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” Princess Celestia said as they all crossed the threshold. “I hope not to take up too much of your evening, but I imagine you both have many questions.”
Oh, just a few. Sunset stole a glance at Cadance’s eyes, which had reverted to their natural purple. For whatever reason, that was the detail that perplexed her most.
By some prognostic force, the drink platter had beaten them to the room. It boasted twin teacups, a pot probably full of chamomile, a jar of sugar, and a mug of espresso—Sunset had never been much for tea. The coffee’s strong, bitter bouquet warmed her senses, undercut by the barest notes of herbal sweetness.
Three velvet cushions surrounded the platter. Sunset crossed to the far side and took the pillow nearest the fireplace. Cadance settled on the one next to her, so she shuffled away, feigning a stretch. Philomena took her perch between the window and fireplace.
“Now,” Princess Celestia said, seating herself and filling the two teacups, “I know you must both be exhausted after all that’s happened, but I must ask: what precisely were you doing that elicited such an aggressive response from the Everheart?” She zeroed in on Sunset like a prosecutor eyeing up her witness.
Sunset donned her hard-study face and took the coffee in her magic. Let the games begin.
She spent the next few minutes nodding along as Cadance recounted the night’s events in vague detail. It only seemed fair—most of the ordeal had been Cadance’s fault after all. Sunset only spoke when directly addressed, and even then mostly in monosyllabic replies. Princess Celestia had had more than a millennium of political practice to perfect the art of reading ponies, so the fewer chances she got to divine Sunset’s true motives, the better.
“And that’s when you showed up,” Cadance finished, eyelids aflutter. “I, um…” She sniffled and wiped a hoof across her muzzle. “How did you know we needed help?”
“Philomena alerted me.” She nodded to the phoenix, whose gaze lingered on the fireplace. “Though even before that, I sensed my enchantments had been broken. I had hoped it was a mistake. I knew that the Everheart contained a powerful magic, but clearly I underestimated it. It is troubling that it was able to subvert my protections so easily.”
If by ‘troubling’ you mean ‘promising,’ I agree completely.
“I’m sorry,” Cadance said, pinning her ears. “I always thought that the dragon was just something Prismia could do. I had no idea it came from the Everheart. If I had, I wouldn’t have…” She closed her eyes. Then, in a voice barely louder than breathing, she said, “I just wanted to keep it close.”
Sunset blinked. She had grown so used to tuning out Cadance’s rambling that she’d nearly missed it. She fixed her with steely eyes and said, “You’ve seen that thing before?”
Cadance opened her mouth, closed it, and gave a stiff nod. Her eyes went hollow, stuck on something Sunset couldn’t see. She met Sunset’s stare and said, “I’m so sorry you went through that. I wish I could have stopped it sooner. That’s not something anypony… any creature… I know how scary it is.”
In a moment that Sunset would deny ever happened, she found a bizarre comfort in Cadance’s eyes. They were eyes that understood. Eyes that knew the blind panic she’d suffered. Eyes of kinship.
She looked away and blew a raspberry. “Scary? Please. It wasn’t even five minutes. No big deal.”
Cadance paused. It sounded out of place, like she had meant to say something but dared not invoke the words. Eventually she said, “I’m happy to hear that. Still. Sorry.”
The silence begged Sunset to respond, but she refused. She gulped down a mouthful of coffee too quickly and burned her tongue.
Princess Celestia cleared her throat. “Regardless, it is no one’s fault but mine. I should have exercised better judgement and stored the Everheart in the vaults to begin with.” Her mouth lifted in a matronly smile. “We can at least be thankful that you are both unharmed.”
Sunset flicked her tail, freeing some of the residual stone dust.
The princess’s smile flattened. “However, should your studies continue in this vein, I doubt this will be the last time either of you contend with the Everheart. In light of this, you both deserve to know the truth, if only to avoid a similar situation in the future.”
She turned to Cadance, the firelight casting her face in a grave silhouette. “In all honesty, this is something I should have discussed with you much sooner. I refrained because I couldn’t decide how best to breach the topic. For that, I apologize. Perhaps this wouldn’t have escalated so dramatically had you known.”
Little stars danced in Cadance’s eyes. “Had I known what?”
Finally, something useful. Sunset assumed her lecture posture: back straight and ears perked.
Pausing for a breath, Princess Celestia said, “Do you recall one of the first nights you spent in Canterlot? You were being fitted for your coronation gown, if memory serves.”
Cadance smiled—the first one Sunset had seen from her since leaving the tower. “Of course. I wanted something to match the Everheart, but you didn’t think it would be safe for me to wear it. Then you took it overnight to set up protections.”
Princess Celestia nodded. “And while that was indeed the truth, I’m afraid it wasn’t all of it.
“When we first met, I felt an odd sense of familiarity about you. At first I assumed it was simply your presence. After all, it had been quite some time since I had enjoyed the company of another alicorn before you.” Her smile warmed in a way that typically made Sunset feel safe—right now it just irked her. “And what lovely company it has been.”
Cadance’s cheeks went rosy, and not just from the firelight. Sunset ground her teeth. She brought her mug to her lips and sipped slowly.
“But as we spent more time with one another, I came to realize that it was not your presence—not uniquely, at any rate—but that of the Everheart as well. I felt as though I recognized it, but I couldn’t place how. Like something from a dream, or a hazy childhood memory. I found it… strangely frustrating.
“I took it that evening to study it in closer detail. To see if it would reveal anything, or if it might jog my memory. And while it took some doing, I eventually discovered a detail that made sense of it. As it turns out, I have seen it before. Exactly once, a very long time ago.”
Sunset fended off a scowl. I knew she was lying about how old it was! She eyed Cadance carefully, watching for any cracks in her facade.
None appeared. Rather, she looked as though she’d just been told her coat was green, not pink. “Auntie, that can’t be right. The Everheart isn’t nearly that old.”
“Are you certain?” the princess said. Without even looking, she levitated the second, untouched teacup to Cadance’s hooves.
“Yes, it…” Cadance gazed into her drink. She probably saw something other than the bottom of the cup, judging by how her pupils searched.
“Mom left me a letter,” she said. Each word came out methodically, like she didn’t know what the next one would be. “To try and explain things. In it, she said that… that she made the Everheart. Just for me. To protect me.”
What happened to “I don’t know where she found it?” Now suddenly she made it specifically for you? Sunset dug her hooves into the carpet.
Cadance shook her head. “Maybe you just saw something that looked like it. Heart-shaped necklaces aren’t exactly uncommon, right?” She chuckled with all the fervor of an undertaker.
“Very true,” Princess Celestia said. “Which is exactly why I wanted to examine it more closely. I needed to know for certain that my assumptions were correct, lest I give you false hope. Although, I suppose ‘hope’ might not be the correct term in this circumstance.”
Her voice chilly but still level, the princess continued, “The magic within the Everheart—and, indeed, the magic you harnessed in your ascension—is of a very particular type. It is a magic I have only known one other pony to possess. It just so happens that she was the very same pony who once wore that necklace, more than a thousand years ago.”
Sunset leaned in.
Cadance gazed up with the eyes of a lost lamb. “Who?”
At first, Princess Celestia didn’t respond. She regarded Cadance with a look that would make a dragon feel small. These weren’t the eyes of Sunset’s teacher, nor were they the eyes of her benevolent princess. These were eyes that had witnessed a millennium of history and carried the weight of every moment.
She trotted to the stained-glass window, gazing across the beveled starscape. She reached out a hoof and started petting Philomena, who barely moved at the touch.
“It belonged to a princess,” she said, no longer sounding like the words were directed at anypony in particular. “The leader of a kingdom long lost to history, and one of Equestria’s oldest allies: a place known as the Crystal Empire.”
Crickets chirped in Sunset’s head. Her knowledge of nations beyond Equestria covered everything from modern day Maretonia to the formerly sovereign states of Trotsylvania and Ancient Ponylesia, but no “Crystal Empire” existed in her mental index.
“I… don’t think I’ve ever heard of it,” Cadance said.
“You wouldn’t have.” Princess Celestia sighed through her nose so imperceptibly that it might have been Sunset’s imagination.
“When I say that this empire was ‘lost to history,’ I mean it quite literally. It was… erased. Banished by the curse of a usurper king, along with all the ponies who called it home. I didn’t believe that any piece of it had survived.”
She turned around, fixing Cadance with those ancient eyes. “Clearly I was mistaken.”
For Sunset, the implication was obvious.
Unsurprisingly, Cadance had more trouble. Her expression struggled between “wow” and “what,” ultimately landing somewhere in between. She raised her teacup, but stopped before it reached her lips. “Wait, so… What does that mean? How did… Am I… What does that mean?”
“Quite honestly, I do not know.” Princess Celestia trotted back to the tea circle. “It could be sheer coincidence that this artifact found its way to you, or it could be entirely prophetic. I believe that is a question only you will be able to answer.”
“How?” Cadance pulled her teacup close to her chest. “I… I barely know anything about the Everheart. And apparently the one thing I thought I knew ended up being wrong. Where would Mom even find something like this?”
“I cannot say. No other trace of the Crystal Empire has resurfaced since its disappearance.” The princess settled in front of Cadance, laying on her stomach to roughly match her height. “Tell me, Mi Amore. What do you feel when you’re near the Everheart? Is there any specific emotion? Any kind of bond?”
The little shifts and cracks in Cadance’s features were adding up—like watching an earthquake in slow motion. “I mean… yes. I’ve always had a strong connection with it. I feel… safe, I suppose, when it’s nearby. Like I’m at home, or… I just always thought…” She shrank in on herself. “Well, I don’t know what I thought anymore.”
Nopony spoke for a small eternity. Sunset couldn’t help but feel like she was peering in on a moment she wasn’t meant to see. More than that, it seemed as though she’d been excluded from a whole side of the conversation—one shrouded in silence.
But it hardly mattered. She’d learned a key detail about the Everheart, and her mind was already tooling away with it. Princess Celestia had said that the magic within the Everheart belonged to a princess, which meant that the relic wasn’t merely enchanted. It contained a reservoir of magic all its own. A reservoir of princess magic. Alicorn magic.
And if that magic could be put into the Everheart… Her idea forge sparked to life.
“Mi Amore,” Princess Celestia said. “Are you all right?”
Cadance winced at the question. “Auntie, I know this is random and kind of petty but… could you please not call me that anymore?”
The princess’s eyes widened by atoms. She worked her mouth for a moment before saying, “What would you have me call you instead?”
It should have been an easy answer, but Cadance apparently couldn’t manage it. She opened her mouth, closed it, bit her lip, glanced down to where her tail hugged her flank, then into her tea, then—
The steel cable of Sunset’s patience threatened to snap, so she caved and said, “She, uh, prefers ‘Cadance.’”
Cadance flinched, almost like she’d forgotten Sunset was still there. She gave the suggestion of a smile and said, “Thank you, Sunset.”
Sunset returned to her espresso.
“Very well,” the princess said. “Are you all right, Cadance?”
“I… maybe?” Cadance set her tea to the side, spilling much of it, and rubbed her eyes. “I don’t know. I’ll be fine.”
“Which means you are not currently fine.” Princess Celestia rested a hoof on Cadance’s shoulder. “I realize this is quite a lot to take in, but we are here to help you through it.”
“I appreciate that, but I don’t… It’s not…” She fidgeted in place and ruffled her wings like the air itself had grown uncomfortable. She hid inside her bedraggled mane and said, “Never mind. I’m being stupid.”
What else is new?
“Your feelings are not stupid.” The princess brushed Cadance’s mane out of her face and smiled the way one might when trying to coax a frightened dog from hiding. “Whatever is troubling you, I would hope that you trust me enough to share it. Remember: you are in a safe place.”
Cadance shook her head. The strands of her mane swayed like willow leaves. “It’s not that easy.” She peeked to the side, abruptly locking eyes with Sunset.
Again, Sunset found some peculiar camaraderie in those eyes. She glared and turned to the fireplace, tracing the log’s smouldering veins in an attempt to distract herself. Cadance would not manipulate her. Not that easily.
A few bristly moments later, Cadance carried on. “The Everheart… It’s always been special to me, but not because of its magic or any weird connection or anything like that. It’s special because it’s the only thing my mom left me. Her letter said it was a symbol of her love—the love she could never give me in person. And I believed it. I had to believe it.
“But… it wasn’t true. The Everheart wasn’t meant for me. Mom didn’t have anything to do with it. It… doesn’t mean anything.”
When Cadance spoke again, her voice held a cold edge that failed to mesh with anything Sunset knew about her. “That necklace was the only piece I had of my mom. Of my home. The one thing that proved she cared enough to at least try and protect me. And now… now it’s not even hers?”
Sunset glanced back right in time to see a scowl cut across Cadance’s muzzle. Cadance could never hope to look intimidating, but the genuine anger bleeding off her lips gave Sunset pause.
Princess Celestia wrapped her hoof around Cadance’s withers and rubbed in small circles. “Regardless of where it came from, your mother still meant it as a gesture of love. That need not change. Only now it may also be a link to your heritage.”
“Then why didn’t she tell me that?!” Cadance forced the princess’s hoof down. Her eyes flashed apologetic, but they hardened just as fast. “She could have told me the truth. Instead she just made up some story to make herself seem like a better pony.”
Tears pooled in her eyes, reflecting the red firelight. “Do you have any idea how upset I was when I found out Prismia had stolen the Everheart? I worked so hard and waited so long to get it back, because I thought… I thought…” She squeezed her eyes shut and stomped her hoof hard enough to topple the teacup entirely. She choked out a sob in mangled pieces.
“Cadance…” the princess said, reaching her hoof out halfway.
“I just wanted to believe that she really loved me. The fact that she made me something so special, something that was ours, was the only proof I had. And now…”
A tear-soaked laugh ripped from her throat. “I guess it’s my own stupid fault, right? Why did I ever trust somepony who would leave their foal to die in the woods?”
Sunset edged closer to the fireplace. Part of her considered leaving—let Cadance handle her own baggage—but she couldn’t look away. Something about Cadance’s eyes. Her voice. She radiated a furious passion that had Sunset spellbound.
“Please, Cadance. Remember your breathing exercises.” Princess Celestia moved her hoof the remaining distance, touching Cadance’s chest. “I have seen the letter your mother left you. It is clear that she loved you a great deal, and—”
“I don’t know that!” Cadance shot to her hooves and flared her wings. Her mane fell around her face in feral strands. “I don’t know anything about her! Not her name. Not her face. Not her family. My family. How do I even know she’s the one who wrote the letter? She lied about the Everheart. Who knows what else she lied about?”
“Not all lies are ill-intentioned. Perhaps she was only trying to protect you. She may not even have known—”
“Please stop defending her!” The glare she fired the princess could have cut diamond. Sparks crackled around her horn—Sunset readied a shield spell, just in case. “You know even less about her than I do! She’s a liar and a coward and… and…”
She reared back and unleashed a scarred, damaged scream. “I hate her!”
Light ruptured the world.
Sunset managed to throw up her shield and warded off the worst of the blast, but her mind buckled against the force. Heat swelled out in dense waves, briefly turning the room into an ironworks. Through the cacophony, something shattered.
The surge quickly passed, leaving only an echo in its wake.
Blinking the spots from her eyes, Sunset dispelled her shield and gazed dumbly at where Cadance stood in the far corner of the room. The hair immediately around her horn had been singed. She otherwise seemed unharmed, but her eyes gave the impression that she’d seen beyond the veil of death.
Scanning the rest of the chamber, Sunset spotted the teacup—or where it had been, anyway. Had she not known what it once was, she would have been unable to piece it together.
“I…” Cadance squeaked.
A high trill pulled Sunset’s attention to the opposite end of the study. Philomena swooped the breadth of the chamber and landed on Cadance’s back. She tucked her beak into the multicoloured mess of a mane and began lining frizzy hairs back into place.
Sunset didn’t have the capacity to be mad about that. Right now, her brain was pulling overtime trying to reconcile what she had just seen with the Cadance who, barely four hours ago, hadn’t even had the backbone to turn away a couple of whimpering fanponies by herself.
Princess Celestia immediately closed the distance to Cadance and inspected her horn. “Are you hurt?”
“N-no. I just…” Her pupils shrank. She charged past the princess to the ceramic blast zone. “Oh, no! Auntie, your teacup. I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know what happened.”
Aaand she’s back to being a doormat. Sunset let her muscles relax. She added this little incident to her mental ammo box.
“Don’t concern yourself with that.” Princess Celestia stepped up beside Cadance and sat down, frowning. “All that matters is that nopony was harmed. Did you get everything out of your system?”
“No, not really. But I’m okay for now.” Cadance collapsed on her hindquarters like her own weight had become too much to bear. Philomena hopped from her back, landing between her and Sunset. “Honestly, I think I just need some sleep. Today has been… a lot.”
Understatement of the century.
Princess Celestia wrapped Cadance in her wing, cradling her in a side hug. “I apologize. Perhaps it would have been better to wait for emotions to cool before discussing this.”
Cadance heaved a sigh. “No, I’m glad you told me. Really. I think I needed it.”
She lay her head on Princess Celestia’s side like it was the most casual thing in the world. Sunset sneered, hiding it behind her mug. She sidled closer to Philomena.
Smiling an orphan’s smile, Cadance said, “Part of the reason I agreed to come to Canterlot in the first place was because I wanted to discover myself. To figure out what being a princess even means for me.
“But after everything else tonight, this was just… too much. Finding out that I might be the heir to an ancient empire? One that doesn’t even exist anymore?” She shrank into Princess Celestia’s wing. “I don’t know what to do with that.”
Good, because I do. A surge of vindication nearly lifted a smirk to Sunset’s face. Cadance’s horn having been bestowed upon her by some weird magical destiny made a lot more sense than her having earned it through love or some garbage.
“You needn’t ‘do’ anything with it,” the princess said, offering a pity smile. “It is important to understand our past, but we need not let it define us. Our decisions in the present are far more important.”
She retracted her wing. “At any rate, try not to think too hard about it. You’ve had a long enough night already.”
Cadance matched her smile with a tired copy. “All right.”
Sunset saw the conversational window closing. Not yet.
She raised a hoof and said, “Pardon the interruption, Princess. While this has all been very… interesting on its own, I feel like we’ve gone off topic. You still haven’t explained why the Everheart reacted the way it did, or how it reacted, for that matter. I thought it was only supposed to sense the emotions of the pony wearing it.”
Cadance’s sleepy eyes clicked in clarity like she’d suddenly realized the presence of an audience. “Oh, that’s true. I didn’t even think about that.”
No surprises there.
Turning her way, Princess Celestia nodded and said, “An astute observation, Sunset,” but she used the blasé voice that always made Sunset feel like an idiot. “Thank you for the reminder. I suppose we have gotten rather sidetracked.”
You think?
Rising to her hooves, the princess stepped into the more open area of the study and said, “Unfortunately, I do not have all the answers. As I said, I have only seen the Everheart once before, and there were far more pressing concerns at the time, so I know little about its true function. However, I believe I can shed light on one particular aspect.”
Squaring her stance, she closed her eyes and set her horn aglow. Dim at first, it steadily grew in intensity until a miniature sun had coalesced on her forehead. The light morphed and flowed in nonsense directions like a gravity-confused stream. Shimmering white waves ran up its length, sculpting the light in strange ways until—
Oh no. Paralyzing cold tore through Sunset’s every nerve. Her eyes sank from the dragon to the floor, gazing straight through.
Get a grip. The princess is controlling this one. It isn’t going to hurt you.
She shuddered as a low snarl filled the chamber.
“The being that emerged from the Everheart was a dracoform,” Princess Celestia said. “Powerful magical familiars—manifestations of unicorn magic—that are typically used for self-defense. Eastern unicorns have employed them in magic duels dating back as far as the Sable dynasty.”
A hoof touched Sunset’s shoulder. She glanced sideways at Cadance, who was spearing the princess with a look Sunset had once thought her incapable of. “Auntie, I don’t think the demonstration is necessary.”
The chorus of light and magic died instantly. Princess Celestia knelt down in front of Sunset like a mare rushing to her injured foal. “Oh, Sunset, I’m—”
“It’s fine,” Sunset snapped. She shrugged Cadance’s hoof off and flashed the princess a grin. “I’m all right. Just tired.”
Her words did nothing to shift the princess’s frown. “I am so sorry. The way you spoke about it, I didn’t think—”
“Whatever. I’m good.” Sweat beaded beneath her mane as she struggled to hold the princess’s eyes. “Let’s just move on, okay? Don’t worry about me.”
Philomena brushed her head against Sunset’s, cooing quietly. Sunset leaned into the warmth for a blissful moment before jerking her head, shooing the bird away. She already felt too small and fragile with the princess coddling her like this. Philomena’s therapy phoenix act certainly didn’t help, nor did—
“Sunset,” Cadance said, “it’s okay to—”
“Shut up!” She bared her teeth and shot a green corona from her horn. Cadance flinched away.
Sunset straightened her back and flipped her mane out of her face, barely containing her tremble. “I want to go to bed at a half-decent time, so I would appreciate it if we could just get through this already.” She turned a loaded frown on the princess. “Please.”
Putting on her “we’ll talk about this later” face, Princess Celestia returned to her cushion and said, “Are you certain?”
“Yes,” Sunset tried to say, but the word fell apart in her throat. She settled for a nod.
“But—” Cadance started, but she crumbled under Sunset’s brimstone glare. She hunched over, her mouth collapsing in a frown.
Sunset hated how long the silence lasted.
“Very well,” the princess said, at last.
“As I was saying, dracoforms are potent magical guardians. Most often they are only conjured for a brief amount of time to complete a specific task, but they can be bound to objects or locations for a purpose. In such cases, they act on the will of the one who created them.”
No longer feeling the pressure of a thousand judgmental eyes, Sunset said, “So the one in the Everheart was made by that long lost princess you mentioned?”
“Potentially. From what I could tell, it seemed highly protective of you, Mi— Cadance, which would make sense if you are indeed a descendant of the Crystal Princess. Perhaps it perceived a threat and reacted accordingly. Though what it deemed as dangerous, I cannot say.”
Sunset tried to vanish into her mane.
“But that is only conjecture on my part. How did it feel in the moment? Did you sense any kind of connection with the dracoform?”
“Um…” Cadance flicked her eyes to Sunset, then to the ground. She shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t really notice it at the time.” She clambered to her hooves, shaking one leg like it had fallen asleep, and said, “Auntie, would it be okay if I excused myself? I feel like I already have enough to think about for one night. Unless there’s anything else you think I need to know.”
Sunset narrowed her eyes. She knew a conversation escape attempt when she saw one. She’s hiding something.
Whatever it was, Princess Celestia either didn’t notice or ignored it. She smiled and said, “Nothing that can’t wait for another time. I won’t keep you any longer. When you’re ready to talk, I will be ready to listen.”
“Thank you. I just need to figure out what I need to talk about first. But I will. Promise.” She trudged forward and wrapped the princess in a full-on hug. She said something, but it was muffled by the princess’s mane.
Princess Celestia returned the embrace—hooves only, no wings, which made Sunset feel a bit better. “And I you, Cadance.” She nudged Cadance off and said, “Rest well.”
Cadance nodded, then turned her glossy eyes on Sunset. She seemed to consider her for a second, gave a meek wave, and trotted for the exit. Neither Sunset nor the princess said another word until Cadance’s hoofsteps faded.
“Philomena,” Princess Celestia said. Philomena had already been looking her way, as though the two of them shared one mind. “Please see that Mi Amore arrives in her quarters safely.”
Sunset rolled her eyes.
With a swift nod, Philomena took to the air. She turned and gave Sunset a bright chirp before swooping out the door.
“My offer extends to you as well, Sunset,” the princess said, gathering the remains of Cadance’s teacup onto the platter. “What happened to you tonight should not be taken lightly. If you ever need to talk, my door is always open.”
“Thank you, Princess, but I’ll be fine,” Sunset said, and she believed it. She had more important concerns than some post-petrification jitters. She’d shake it off by morning.
And if not, there was always the next morning.
A couple questions still sizzled in the back of her mind: Why had Cadance’s eyes changed colour, and how had the Everheart shut down Sunset’s magic without affecting its own? She considered posing them as veiled academic inquiries—the answer to the latter could legitimately solve the Antimagic Paradox, after all—but she held her tongue. All of the vital information had been provided, and the path forward was revealing itself by inches. Asking anything else would be superfluous at best and suspicious at worst.
Plus, she was beat.
She downed the last of her coffee and grouped the mug with everything else on the platter. “I should get going too. Divination starts early tomorrow.”
“Of course. Before you go, however…” Princess Celestia stepped past the platter, looking down on Sunset with a strange, syrupy smile. “I would just like to let you know how very proud I am of you.”
The comment struck Sunset so far from left field that she nearly lost her balance. “Uh, thank you?” She paused. “Any particular reason?”
“Many. I have always been proud, as I’m sure you know, but it doesn’t hurt to say it every now and then.” She caressed Sunset’s cheek with a hoof. It felt shockingly warm through the golden slipper. “You are shaping up to be a wonderful young mare. I hope you can see as much for yourself.”
Did I do something wrong? Sunset gave a lopsided smile and said, “What can I say? I’ve learned from the best.”
Princess Celestia giggled. She ran a hoof through Sunset’s mane, freeing a few tangles along the way. “Sleep well, my student.”
“And you, Princess.” She bowed, a bit clumsily, and scurried out the door.
Her heart was beating in her throat. Had she given something away without realizing it? Had she been too harsh with Cadance, and this was the princess’s way of making her feel bad?
Too many thoughts pulled her in too many directions. She latched onto the most powerful one and allowed it to drag her down the corridor:
Bed.
Sunset had half-expected Cadance to accost her on her trip home like some night-stalking apology demon, but the universe had finally given her a break and she made it all the way to her bedroom unimpeded. She dumped everything from her saddlebags at the foot of her bookcase and chucked the satchels themselves in the corner. A flame jumped from her horn to the bedside candle and cast the room in dim, pre-dream light.
The golden title of The Cadance Collection glimmered in her periphery. She considered it for all of zero seconds—rounded down—before nixing the idea. Her bedtime ritual did often involve falling asleep while thought-deep in a book, but that particular book could wait. She’d had enough Cadance for an alicorn’s lifetime.
She picked up Skyspark, turned it over in her magic, and replaced it on her shelf. The final book in the pile, The Drag, wouldn’t fit anywhere on her bookcase, so she stuffed it in her nightstand drawer. Out of sight, out of mind.
She skimmed her other titles for a while before giving up, crawling onto her bed, and wrapping herself in a blanket cocoon. She extinguished the candle and prayed that the world would melt away the moment her head hit the pillow.
It didn’t.
Colours bloomed across the black canvas behind her eyelids, blending and bleeding into ghostly snapshots. Figures emerged, and she willed each of them away in turn: Shining Armor. The princess. Philomena. The dragon. Cadance. She didn’t want to think about any of them.
She wanted to be alone.
Fighting her bruises, she turned onto her other side. Her head whined and butterflies swarmed in her stomach, but she powered through. If she could just manage to escape into the dream realm, everything else would fall into place.
Slowly but surely, she clawed her way to the edge of slumber, ready to plunge into its timeless abyss. She—
She heard a growl.
She couldn’t move.
She couldn’t move!
Spikes shot down her legs and she flailed awake, getting tangled in her sheets. She sat up with a gasp. Her stark eyes whizzed about the room, only catching the silver shadows of midnight.
Nothing. She was alone.
Heat flooded her eyes, but she squeezed it away. Ignoring the thunder in her heart, she slammed her head into the pillow and willed herself to sleep. No more distractions.
A peculiar tocking noise shattered that notion.
She pretended not to hear it at first, but the longer she waited the louder it became. It droned in the darkness with the steady rhythm of a grandfather clock. It chipped away at her resolve until she became more annoyed than tired, and she sat up again. This time, though, she instantly spotted the perpetrator.
A golden, bird-shaped beacon sat outside her window, pecking at the glass. Sunset scowled, held a mini-debate with herself, then magicked the window open. Philomena fluttered inside, landing at the foot of her bed.
“Shouldn’t you be with your new best friend?” Sunset said. She crossed her arms and fell back into her pillow. “She’s probably wetting the bed without you there to help her sleep.”
Philomena said nothing.
“You’re lucky I even let you in. I could have just ignored you. You know, like you did to me?”
No response.
“Did you even care? Did you even notice?!” She sat up again, her glare meeting Philomena’s cool, even eyes. “You flew right past me and didn’t even hesitate. You just went straight for her. Her! Over me! What kind of friend… I could have been dead!”
Philomena bowed her head.
“Oh, that doesn’t matter though. Not next to a princess! I guess she’s just so much more important than… than…”
Feeling tension around her eyes, Sunset buried her face in the pillow. “Whatever. It’s not like I needed you. I don’t need anypony. So go ahead and just… just…” She shuffled her shoulders, drawing the blanket higher on her body. “Just leave me alone.”
Air wooshed by, and for a moment she believed Philomena had actually flown away.
Then a warm, feathered blanket draped itself over her.
Sunset shivered. She went to say something, but she choked on the first word.
And the second.
Whatever she had meant to say devolved into haggard sobs. She tried to stop, but she didn’t know how. She curled up, hiding in her bed as the day’s weight crashed over her.
She had no concept of how long she cried, but it didn’t feel long enough.
Her blanket cooed, and, finally, Sunset slept.
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Yeah, why didn't Sunset ever mention Cadence? We get told in this story, right?
One can only be so strong independent of everyone else.
Ehh, I do get tired of stories where sunset is a bitch but this is good as she is
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By the story's end, it will indeed be apparent why Sunset has never talked about Cadance.
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Everyone has a breaking point.
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Exploring pre-reform Sunset is a lot of fun, but it does definitely entail some bitchiness! I find it interesting trying to figure out how she got that way in the first place.
I love Cadance in this story, but she was always the sideshow to Sunset. That isn't the case anymore.
She had an unpleasant past from the start. And then the truth comes out... I could see all of Cadance's hopes, all the lies she told herself over the years to convince herself her mother had a good reason to "leave their foal to die in the woods" and actually loved her, shatter in a million pieces when Celestia told her of the Everheart's true origin.
And Sunset's reaction amounts to 'wow, she finally grew a backbone.' Not a single trace of sympathy. Despite a comment in chapter two about how being reminded of her mother made her heart hurt, which would make one think she'd see a kindred spirit of sorts.
Ah, but there is some kinship between them in the chapter: "In a moment that Sunset would deny ever happened, she found a bizarre comfort in Cadance’s eyes. They were eyes that understood. Eyes that knew the blind panic she’d suffered. Eyes of kinship."
And indeed, it's 'Cadance knows how I felt.' That street is exclusively one-way... the old Sunset is exceedingly in character here, no doubt about that.
On a note, put two and two together and you realize Cadance knows this blind panic because Prismia unleashed the dracoform on her; or at least it saw her as a threat to the current wearer of the Everheart and attacked her of its own volition. Dark stuff.
So, yes. Sunset is clearly her old self here, and this story's rating prevents me to describe her in a way that's not a huge understatement. Surely even I would lose any and all sympathy for her, right?
Wham.
This simple, so very simple "but she didn't know how" hit like a truck. And the last time I genuinely got 'gut-punched' by a fanfiction was... well, I don't even remember. It was that long ago.
I even have good things to say about Celestia of all people. And I reacted exactly like Sunset did when she told her 'how very proud she was of her;' "what's her angle?"
And then I got it. For one agonizing moment, Celestia thought Sunset was gone. I'll quote Mass Effect: Andromeda here: "it's these moments when you wish you told your children you love them more often. Or ever."
Because, considering Sunset's reaction... No, Celestia. No, she doesn't know that you've "always been proud" of her, unlike what you believe.
But enough gushing. Time for some criticism.
This chapter starts with another large paragraph; the longest of them all in fact. I see a working break-up point after "yet were." Perhaps other large paragraphs could be rearranged as well, like making "thankfully she had a few aces in hoof, not the least being that she had a right to understand something that had attacked her" a part of the following paragraph instead.
Going back to Sunset's reactions, I was surprised there wasn't more introspection from her during Cadance and Celestia's conversation. But I imagine her reminiscing about her own past and family would have distracted and slowed down the story. Plus, as I mentioned, she doesn't care one bit and wants to get to the matter at hand.
I'm still thrown off by some of the vocabulary. I'm not a native speaker so I don't know if it's actually off, but words like "extinguished" and "perpetrator" instead of "put out" and "guilty party/culprit" really feel out of place.
I don't think the "caramel" in "Cadance gazed into the caramel liquid" is necessary. Or at least, I don't see what it adds to mention the tea's color.
I didn't find any mistake about the 'internal narrative,' save for the "Combine that with. . ." It reads like an external narrator to me, perhaps even Sunset herself, but long after the fact. Do note that my 'knowledge' of this narrative amounts to writing what feels right, which is by definition extremely subjective, so take this with a grain of salt.
I'm also not sure whether "Sunset assumed her lecture posture: back straight and ears perked" fits that narrative, in the sense of 'would Sunset think that line as she moved?'
Another subjective thing was the lines I didn't like;
But they're vastly outnumbered by those I did like;
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Thank you for another very insightful comment! I agonized over this chapter more than any other thus far, as is probably evident by the large gap between this chapter and the last. It went through a full eight drafts before I had something I liked, whereas the most I've had to do for any of the other chapters was four. After all that work, getting this much feedback on what did and didn't work is priceless.
I'm so happy to hear that this came through clearly. That section was far and away the one I tweaked most: adding and removing bits, entirely rewriting it, scrapping it and going a different direction. This was the precise feeling I was gunning for, so it's a sigh of relief to read this.
Keen eye, as always.
That's also one of my favourite lines this chapter. It encapsulates so much about Sunset as a character in so few words. Between all the rewrites I did, this is one of a handful of lines that survived all of them.
Admittedly, I rarely take the length of the paragraphs into account when editing. I'm of the mind that a paragraph should be as long as it needs to be in order to fully convey its message before shifting subjects. That said, the longer a paragraph is, the more likely it is that there's a way to convey that same message more efficiently. And I can't deny that long paragraphs just aren't pretty to look at or easy to read. I'll see what changes I can make.
I don't find those examples especially out of place, but I see your point. I think this ties into an issue with my writing that's only recently been brought to my attention: I sometimes slip into more formal language/narration for no real reason, and the shift can throw off the mood or take the reader out of the moment. It's a subtle thing, but I think this is a symptom of that. I'll try to be more conscious of word choice going forward.
Valid point. The colour really doesn't add anything of substance. I'll probably cut that. Thanks!
Yeah, all of the examples you brought up are among the weaker parts of the chapter. I tried variations of all of them, and these were what I ultimately settled on. I'm not especially happy with them either, so I'll probably toy with them a bit.
Thanks again for all of the criticisms! I always look forward to them. Hope you continue to enjoy the story as it progresses!
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Thank you and you're welcome.
My issue with long paragraphs should be taken with a pinch of salt, like everything else in my comments: I never actually studied literature or writing. I can't explain why such paragraphs are problematic, for instance.
I can't speak for these two; my own vocabulary is all over the place. But I think matching the narration to the character's voice is important for the limited third-person you're going for with this story.
I always give this simple example: Twilight would use fewer rather than less; Rainbow Dash wouldn't know the word fewer even exists. If you wanted to go the whole hog, you wouldn't use em dashes or semicolons in Rainbow's narration either, because neither would she.
I can't help with Sunset's voice though, because I don't know what her voice is. I don't even get what her character is; I don't know what my favorite line 'encapsulates about her as a character,' that's how little I actually understand the mare.
Thanks again for taking the time to reply!
Oh, Sunset... Celestia's going to look back on this time after the falling out and see so much she chose to miss in the moment. Or at least much she chose not to say anything about. And I have to wonder what Cadence will think of Sunset after the fact. What will she see looking back?
But for now, there's an angry little pony who refuses to let anypony else in, and there's only so much a phoenix can do. Though she may harden in her heart, that just makes it all the more brittle.
AH! I see you're including Princess Amore from the comics into the lore!
The princess that got crystallized by Sombra, and shattered into a thousand pieces and scattered across the wo-
Prediction: Cadence is Princess Amore after ~980-990 years recompiling her pieces. The Ever Heart is the heart crystal that Amore had on her chest thingy. Cadence's "mom" is actually the remaining magic and conscious of Princess Amore.
Sunset is such an asshole in this fic.
....
AND I FUCKING LOVE IT!!
Pure distilled pre mirror portal Sunset Shimmer!
A Sunset that doesn't give a FUCK about other ponies' feelings (except for Celestia. Sunset cares about what Celestia thinks.)
Quite a bit of discussions of the times leading up to this moment:
em.wattpad.com/f41896fc7847f4d20e5127603daec992d5698ddb/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f4a6f506d4f464e646f7a564e33673d3d2d3430333336393939392e313462383663383731666564333166313531373137383232323633372e6a7067?s=fit&w=720&h=720
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Will you send whatever this was supposed to be to me? There's an upstream error.