Chapter 6 – Compromisery
Sunset knew hundreds of spells, many of which would make even S.G.U. alumni blush. She could rip tunnels through spacetime via teleportation. She could rewrite entire genomes through theriomorphic transfiguration. She had even mastered five of Star Swirl’s Seven Safeguards.
All of that paled in comparison to the restorative magic of a good night’s sleep.
Not that sleep cured everything, of course. She had still awoken the next morning with sour eyes, a brain-gouging headache, an espresso-confused gut, and the worst case of bedmane since the time she’d fallen asleep by her father’s old lightning amp. And while Philomena’s company had been welcome, plucking phoenix feathers from her bedsheets hadn’t been her ideal start to the day.
Even so, the tide of exhaustion had receded, and the seas of her mind were calm and clear. Monsters still lurked in the salt-crusted depths, but she could comfortably ignore them in favour of what really mattered: breakfast, coffee, and classes—not necessarily in that order.
She spent the rest of the day easing back into her natural rhythm. She likely wouldn’t be seeing the Everheart again anytime soon, so it didn’t make sense to stress over it. Better to focus on what she could actually control.
Yet despite her best efforts, some part of her brain conspired against her. In the shadows of her every thought, the spectre of the Everheart loomed. Through every class, every break, and the entirety of study hall, anxious voices clamored for her attention, never more than a moment’s distraction away.
How do you plan to get alone with the Everheart?
Is it even possible to extract its magic?
The magic sees you as a threat. How do you get around that?
Can the magic reject you?
Even if you pull this off, what happens next?
She ultimately excused herself from her final class early and skipped out on dinner with the princess, citing illness in both cases and only half-faking it. Instead she spent the evening chewing on eucalyptus gum to relieve her pain as she pored over The Cadance Collection, if only to scratch the itch.
“The Kingdom of Everheart” wound up having precisely zero useful information. It told the story of a princess who wanted to find the secret to eternal life for her aging father, but she spent so long searching for it that she missed out on the final years of her father’s life. The Everheart itself only came up once, and not even by name. All of the other stories in the book—the ones she could read, anyway—proved equally useless.
She went to bed early that night.
The following day went much the same, with the glaring exception of some colt stopping her between classes to ask if she was actually friends with “that hot new princess.” Her patented “stop talking if you value your face” look had sent him scurrying with his tail between his legs, but in hindsight she should have demanded to know who’d told him that. She had a hunch—only so many ponies had seen her interacting with Cadance, after all—but she would need to find out for sure so she could nip that rumor in the bud.
Her next tutoring session with Cadance was slated for after school that day. She hummed and hawed over whether to blow it off until she had her head back on straight. Seeing her would only make things worse right now, and Cadance wouldn’t have the nerve to ask why she hadn’t shown up anyway.
She mulled it over in study hall, simultaneously taking notes on the properties of inlaid photometric enchantments in various refractive mediums, when a long shadow stretched across her books. Her eyes flicked up, meeting the plastic smile of one of the many teacher’s aides whose names she’d never bothered learning.
“Sunset Shimmer?” he said.
“Obviously.”
He pulled a pink envelope from the pocket of his sweater vest and slid it onto the table. “The new princess delivered this to main. She also wished to relay an apology that it was not delivered sooner.” He nodded and cantered off, vanishing into the bookshelves as if he had only existed to deliver that message.
Sunset stared at the envelope as though it were radioactive. A blue wax seal held it shut. She assumed it was meant to look like a heart, but one half dwarfed the other, and some of the wax had bled, giving the impression of a ruptured artery. The tiny scorch marks surrounding the seal told the rest of the story.
Whispers off to her right pulled her attention. Shooting a glare sideways, she caught the eyes of three students at the other end of the longtable. They all took a sudden fascination with the skylight. One of them—a round-faced filly—boasted a jester’s grin, looking like she might break down in laughter at the barest tickle.
Taking another look at the envelope, one that she now realized looked straight from a Hearts & Hooves Day stationery set, Sunset’s face broiled. She gathered her things, fired a threadbare hex at the filly’s knapsack, and made for the door.
The filly squealed behind her, followed by a clatter as all of her knapsack’s contents tumbled to the floor. Sunset smirked.
Exiting into the afternoon sun, she ripped open the envelope and unfolded the mouthwritten letter inside. In a twist nopony could have seen coming, the paper was also pink. She let muscle memory guide her towards her duplex as she read:
Sunset,
Firstly, I would like to apologize that I’m not telling you this in person. Ordinarily I would have, but I have a hunch that you probably don’t want to see me very much right now. That’s actually the main reason I’m writing this.
I’m really sorry about the other night. The whole reason I asked you out to that picnic was so we could have a second chance at a first impression, since our actual first meeting was so rough. I guess you did get a different impression of me, but not in the way I had hoped. Not only did you see me at my worst (twice), but I also put you in real danger. I never dreamed that it would go so poorly.
You have every right to be angry for as long as you need to be. I hope you can forgive me one day, but I’ll understand if you can’t. Nothing I can say or do will fix what happened. I’m still going to do what I can to try, though.
On that note, I would like to give you the option to terminate our magic studies. You have made it quite clear that you aren’t too fond of me to begin with, and now I’ve given you a pretty good reason to dislike me. Even though I still consider you a friend, I would understand if you didn’t want anything to do with me after all of this. Nopony is worth the trouble I’ve put you through.
I haven’t spoken with Princess Celestia regarding this yet. I wanted your input first so as not to speak wrongfully on your behalf. However, I have no doubts that she would understand if you weren’t willing to continue this assignment, and it would certainly have no negative impact on your scholastic career. These are wildly unforeseen circumstances, but I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that.
Should you wish to discuss this more in person, you know where to find me. If you don’t show up for tonight’s scheduled tutoring session, I will assume that you have chosen not to continue, and you won’t have to worry about dealing with me anymore. No hard feelings either way.
Your
All the best,
Cadance
Sunset had stopped walking somewhere around “terminate.” She flew through the message again, trying to read between the lines. There had to be some hidden meaning.
If the guava juice was any indication, Cadance had been trying to get in Sunset’s good graces since before they had even met. Sunset didn’t understand why—even her most persistent peers had given up—but she had been grateful for it. Those naive attempts at friendship had been the perfect opportunities to squeeze all the information she needed out of Cadance.
So what was her angle now? Why work so hard at being nice only to give Sunset the option to walk away, no strings attached? Had she realized that befriending her was pointless and just wanted to cut her losses? Maybe she felt that Sunset had learned too much about her past and wasn’t comfortable around her anymore. Or had she somehow sussed out Sunset’s real motives and this was an attempt to call her bluff?
All right, don’t give her too much credit.
Whatever the reason, Cadance had intentionally put the ball in Sunset’s court, and Sunset had to return volley just right. Game over, otherwise.
Sunset tucked the letter into her bag and cantered the rest of the way home. All the while the gears in her brain chunked and whirred, threatening to spin off their axles.
Fifteen minutes past due, Sunset stood at Cadance’s doorstep. Twittermites buzzed in her gut, and her saddlebags weighed on her like Tartarean shackles. Never had she thought a pony made of cotton candy and bubblegum could fill her with such dread.
She raised a hoof, hesitated, and knocked.
“It’s open!” Cadance called. Her chipper tone made Sunset want to blow the door off its hinges. She didn’t, but she made a point to slam it behind her.
She couldn’t see Cadance at first. Filly’s First Phantasm lay on the study table alongside a pile of scrolls. A bowl of salad and a dish of mixed nuts sat untouched at one end of the table, because of course she’d thought that far ahead. Behind the table, the splintered remains of her dresser had been replaced by a dark wooden armoire. Several framed pictures hung on the wall next to it, but Sunset didn’t care enough to examine them in detail.
Cadance stepped in from the balcony carrying a tray of what appeared to be art supplies. A tan bandana held her mane back, splattered with enough colours to make Sunset wonder whether a rainbow had leaked on her. A frilly, light blue smock covered her front, similarly stained tie-dye.
She placed the tray on a side table near the archway and turned to Sunset with an annoyingly satisfied smile. “I’m glad you came! I didn’t know if you would, but I prepared everything just in case.”
Keener. Sunset scanned her up and down, her eyebrows sharpening. “Didn’t have much faith I’d show, did you?”
Cadance shrugged. “I was fifty-fifty.” She pulled the bandana off and shook her mane. “Sorry, I was just painting some of my ceramics while I waited. It’s a little hobby I picked up from a friend back home. Did you want to take a look?”
Sunset didn’t bother responding. She just rolled her eyes and started for the study table.
After a moment, Cadance followed suit. Removing her smock, she tossed her clothes to the bed and said, “I take it you got my letter.”
“Yeah,” Sunset said, though it came out as a cold grunt. She shrugged her saddlebags to the floor.
Using her lungs like a bellows, she heated her voice and said, “Before you make this weird, let’s get one thing very clear.”
She cut in front of Cadance and prodded her chest. “I. Don’t. Forgive. You.”
Cadance lifted her hoof to Sunset’s and eased it down. “That’s fine,” she said, her smile softening like melted chocolate. “I didn’t really expect you to.” She stepped around Sunset and to the far side of the table. “Honestly, I wouldn’t forgive me either.”
Sunset’s upper lip twitched. She whirled around right as Cadance took her seat. “The only reason I’m still doing this is because it’s a direct assignment from Princess Celestia. I’ve never given up on anything in my life, and I’m not about to start.”
“Fair enough.” Cadance took a scroll from her pile and nudged it open with her nose. “I probably should have expected that.”
Feeling her blood simmer, Sunset said, “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing bad!” Cadance glanced up, her face far too bright. “It’s just the impression I get from you. When you commit to something, even if it’s something you don’t particularly enjoy, you always see it through, don’t you? No matter what?”
“Yeah, I’m stubborn. You got me!” Sunset slumped to the cushion Cadance had probably fluffed for her. “Get used to it.”
“‘Stubborn’ isn’t quite the word I would use. More like… ambitious. Dedicated! It’s really admirable, actually.” She chuckled, her shoulders going slack. “Reminds me a lot of a friend back home.”
Sunset clenched her teeth. “Well, I’m not your friend.”
“I know, and I can respect that. Sorry for trying to push you into it. You won’t have to worry about me bothering you anymore.” Cadance blinked, then opened Filly’s First Phantasm to the bookmark. “Once your assignment is over, we can just go our separate ways.”
A cold wave of realization slapped Sunset in the face. Once she finished tutoring Cadance, she wouldn’t have any excuse to come back. Her only link to the Everheart would be severed. Outside of staging a heist to steal it—a nigh guaranteed ticket to Canterlot Dungeons, or worse—she might never see it again, let alone get close to it. Her plan would dead-end there.
Not an option. Not after all of this. Time to improvise.
Sunset folded her ears in an effort to look as endearing as possible. “That’s a bit extreme. We wouldn’t have to go our separate ways. Not entirely.”
Cadance hit her with a flat stare, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Come on, Sunset. You don’t need to sugarcoat it. I know you can’t stand me. And even though I…” Her smile dipped, and her eyes sank to the book. “Even if I want to be friends, it’s probably for the best. Like you said in our first session, you don’t want to be here any longer than you have to, right?”
“Right… but…” Sunset searched her mental scatterplot for any data point she could use to weave a path forward.
“But nothing,” Cadance said, a cheerful veneer over her empty voice. “You don’t want anything to do with me, and that’s fine. After what happened with the Everheart, I can hardly blame you.”
What happened with—? And she found it.
Sunset gave a half-real sigh. “All right, let me be straight with you. Back at the picnic, when I said I wanted to help you understand the Everheart, I meant it. Especially now that I know what it’s capable of. Even once you have better control of your magic, it would be irresponsible of me to leave you to figure it out alone. Somepony could get hurt.”
“That’s very kind of you, Sunset, but you’ve already been hurt. I can’t let you put yourself in danger again.” Cadance went to unstopper her inkwell, but her hoof froze halfway. Her eyes bounced between the inkwell and the book, and her face turned stony. “Besides, I’m sure Princess Celestia will be able to help me when the time comes.”
“She won’t.” Sunset’s eyes darted to her saddlebags, a resin rendition of her cutie mark latching them shut. “She might be able to, but she won’t actually help. Take it from somepony who’s trained under her for most of my life. She’ll want you to figure it out on your own.”
“Thanks for the heads-up, but that doesn’t change the fact that the Everheart is dangerous. Nopony but me should be near it until we know it’s safe.”
Sunset kneaded the carpet with her hooves. She fired a glare across the table—Cadance had lit her horn, wrapping the inkwell in blue sparkles. “I don’t need you to protect me. I can handle myself. I was caught off-guard the first time, but now that I know what to expect, I can prepare for it.”
“You can’t be sure of that.” Cadance scrunched her muzzle. A few hairs around her horn frizzed up like frayed threads. “We know so little about the Everheart, there’s no telling what it might do. I know you just want to help, and I wish I could let you, but you’re smarter than I am. You know it’s too risky.”
“You’re right.” Slamming her hooves on the tabletop, Sunset leaned forward with the purposeful lethargy of a horror movie monster. “I am smarter than you. I’m also stronger”—more in touch with reality—“better prepared”—more qualified to be a princess—“and more emotionally stable. If anypony shouldn’t be near the Everheart, it’s you.”
The inkwell rattled. “That may be true, but that’s why I’m doing this. The magic training, the meditation, the therapy. The Everheart and I are connected. I want to understand it. I have to—”
“Then you’re doing a lousy job. You didn’t even know where it really came from until a couple of days ago. If you seriously want to understand it, you need me. I’m not blinded by emotion like you are.”
Cadance pursed her lips but didn’t immediately respond.
So Sunset went for the heart. “Don’t deny it. You’re a wreck anytime you even think about the Everheart. Or was that whole ‘I hate my mom’ thing an act?”
The bottle cracked. A single hairline fracture down one side—not enough to spill ink, but close. Cadance stared at Sunset, unmoving. Her eyes were like stones in a riverbed. “That was uncalled for.”
Sunset leaned back with a catty grin. “Proved my point, though.” She floated a box of tissues over from the vanity and dropped it on the table.
Cadance stared dumbly at the tissues for a moment before snatching one up and wiping her eyes. “You aren’t going to drop this until I agree, are you?”
“Hey, look who’s finally catching on! Honestly, why are you even resisting this much? I just want to help.” Help myself, that is.
When Cadance met her eyes again, Sunset’s mind went fuzzy. Despite being downright allergic to social interaction, she took pride in her ability to read other ponies—a product of too many hours with Princess Celestia, probably. So the fact that she didn’t recognize the look Cadance was giving her, not even slightly, threw her train of thought entirely off track.
Cadance broke the stare, stood, and trotted over to the wall-mounted pictures. “Sunset, can I be honest with you?”
Had she been a dragon, Sunset would have shot fire from her nostrils. “You mean you haven’t been honest with me so far?”
“I have, but…” Cadance fixated on a photo. It showed a large group of ponies, but Sunset couldn’t make out much else at a distance. “You know how I said that it would be for the best if we went our separate ways after all of this? That wasn’t only for your benefit. I… I think it would be better for me, too.”
The words made Sunset’s ears tingle. “What? Why? I thought you wanted to be friends.”
“I do! I really, really do.” She wheeled around, giving Sunset a smile reminiscent of a parent leaving on a work trip. “But after everything that’s happened, I’ve realized just how… fragile I am. If I want to be a stronger pony, let alone a good princess, I need to start taking better care of myself. And while I feel horrible saying this, the honest truth is that you’re…” Her eyes fell. “…detrimental to that.”
Is she really going there? Sunset managed to restrain her inner manticore—she wouldn’t give Cadance the satisfaction of getting a rise out of her. She scoffed and crossed her arms. “Tell me how you really feel.”
Cadance trotted to Sunset’s side of the table and plopped down an arm’s length away. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but… you’re a bit of a bully. Far from the worst I’ve had, but still.”
Guess I need to try harder. The thought rang hollow as more twittermites flocked to her stomach, popping and sparking.
“I can’t be around somepony who puts me down the way you do. It isn’t good for either of us. You’re allowed to not like me, but I’m allowed to not want to put up with it.”
Cadance scooched closer. “If the Everheart really is affected by my emotions the way I think it is, you being there is only going to make it more volatile.” She reached out a hoof and touched Sunset’s shoulder. “And I think you know that.”
Sunset’s lower lip shook. Don’t let her get in your head.
The thought had come too late. She couldn’t meet Cadance’s eyes. A heavy, slimy lump had embedded itself in her chest, making her heart feel tight. Heat gathered in her face, and the tingle in her ears had spread down her spine like a festering virus.
She hated it. A lot.
She swatted Cadance’s hoof away and forced herself to look her in the eye. “If being around me is so awful, then why even give me the choice of coming back here? Why not just find another tutor? Why would you want to be friends at all?!”
Some of Sunset’s rage got muddled by Cadance’s smile—a rough-edged, lopsided thing. “Because you’re smart, passionate, bold, interesting, and… Honestly? Because you’re the only pony in Canterlot who doesn’t treat me like a princess.”
Sunset just stared at her. She legitimately had no response for that.
“Don’t get me wrong! Being a princess is wonderful, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s every filly’s dream, after all. But even with so many ponies fawning over me, it’s… lonelier than I expected.”
Bolting from her stupor, Sunset barked out a laugh. “That’s a quality problem to have.”
“Isn’t it?” Cadance tittered, her mane bouncing a bit. “I know I shouldn’t complain, but I can’t pretend that it doesn’t bother me. Most ponies are either too scared to approach me or treat me like a sacred object. It’s impossible to have a real conversation. The only ponies I’ve made any kind of connection with are Aunt Celestia, Miss Inkwell, my therapist, and you. I know it’s a bit silly to say that, considering I’ve only known you a few days, but that’s how I feel.”
A frown eclipsed her smile. “I was willing to put up with some abuse because I didn’t want to push you away. I even found it kind of comforting because it was so familiar, awful as that sounds. But I’ve struggled enough to get my self-esteem up to where it is. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you damage it just because I’m a little lonely.”
It felt like Sunset had a lodestone lodged in her throat—she swallowed, which did absolutely nothing to help.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Sunset had counted on Cadance to keep taking her treatment lying down, like everypony else did. That or lash out at her, which Sunset had years’ worth of built-in counters for. What Cadance had done instead… Sunset had no defense for it. It was like being forced to look in a mirror and having every little imperfection pointed out. It felt… horrible. It felt—
No! Stop it! This is exactly what she wants. You’re stronger than this.
Of course she was. That didn’t change the fact that Cadance wasn’t going to play along anymore. She had changed the rules of the game. And as loathsome as it would be, Sunset would have to play by those rules if she wanted to get any farther along with her master plan.
Nopony said she would have to play fair, at least.
“I’ve been that bad, huh?” Sunset said, slouching her shoulders to sell it.
Cadance folded in on herself, nodding. Her gloom only lasted a moment before she bounced back, offering a consolation grin. “But hey, no big deal. It’s like you said before, some ponies just rub each other the wrong way.” She meandered back around the table. “We’ll both be happier if we just—”
“Cadance, I—” Sunset cinched her lips. She had to choose her next words carefully. A heel-face turn would be too obvious, even to Cadance. This would require a more clever approach.
And fast, because Cadance was staring.
Sunset forced a sigh. “You’re right, okay? I don’t like you. Not even a little. But that doesn’t mean I want you to be totally miserable. To be honest, it sounds like your life’s been miserable enough without my help.”
Ears drooping, Cadance settled on her cushion. Her eyes remained locked on Sunset. Good. She’s buying it so far.
“I… may have taken things a bit too far. Talking down to you, pressuring you into telling me about your past, making fun of you when you spilled that ink on yourself.” A laugh had crept into her voice—she could only hope it made her sound more genuine. “You didn’t deserve all that. The only reason I was being so… cruel, I guess, is because… well…” Need a plausible reason. Think. Think. Think!
Sunset brushed her mane out of her face and gulped. “Sorry. I’m not great at this.”
“I get it.”
Sensing a way out, Sunset glanced up. Somehow Cadance was smiling. “You do?”
“Of course! Trust me, you’re not the only pony who’s upset that there’s a new princess.” She pointed her muzzle at the nearest picture on the wall: a portrait of her standing side by side with Princess Celestia. It made Sunset think of a filly trying to look grown-up by putting on her mother’s makeup. “Equestria’s only ever had one princess. Then I showed up, literally overnight. Such a sudden change is weird and confusing, especially since I’m not exactly on par with her. Not everypony is going to be okay with that.”
That’ll work. “Yeah, that about sums it up.” Sunset managed to prop up a smile. “But now that I’ve gotten to know you, you’re honestly not half bad. Still not exactly princess material, but you’re a good pony. I should have taken the time to appreciate that before judging you based on what you represent.”
Tracing small circles on the table with her hoof, Cadance asked, “So, what exactly are you trying to say?”
Sunset grimaced. “I’m not about to apologize, if that’s what you’re after. I meant everything I said. But I really do want to help with the Everheart. It seems important, and after what happened…” She gritted her teeth—she didn’t have to fake that, at least. “Now it’s personal. So I’m willing to tone it down and… maybe try this whole ‘being friends’ thing, if that’s what it takes.”
Cadance’s smile turned to honey. “I suppose that’s the best I can hope for.” She held her hoof out and said, “Ready for another first impression? Third time’s the charm!”
Moth? Meet flame.
Reaching forward like Cadance’s hoof was a white-hot branding iron, Sunset nudged it. “Hopefully with fewer tears this time.”
“Hopefully,” Cadance said through a giggle. She turned a page in her book. “Well, I guess we should finally get on with the reason you came, huh?”
Already taken care of. Sunset nodded, drawing an armada of study supplies from her bags. “With pleasure.”
Their study session lasted only two hours, but it felt closer to two days. Forcing herself to play nice—well, nicer—with Cadance had exhausted Sunset more than she ever could have imagined. By the end of it, she felt as though she’d taken a double dose of Hydia’s Hypnagogue, undiluted.
Worse, it hadn’t even been worthwhile. They’d finished off Filly’s First Phantasm, the final section of which claimed that Cadance should be able to “conjure and manipulate a marble-sized ball of light,” but in reality she still hadn’t even been able to complete the most basic levitation exercises from section three. She could hold a quill aloft for maybe five seconds, not even in stasis, and that was it.
How she’d managed to generate a power surge strong enough to strain Sunset’s shield spell, even accidentally, Sunset had no idea.
“I don’t get it,” Cadance said, sweat dripping down her temple as she failed to lift the empty salad bowl, again.
Sunset smirked as she filed her things away in her saddlebags. “I told you, you’re probably just”—defective—“trying too hard. It should be as effortless as breathing. You look like you’re trying to give yourself a hernia.”
Lifting her head, Cadance followed the stream of objects in Sunset’s magic with her eyes. She smiled. “You make it look so easy.”
“That’s because I’m amazing. Also, it is easy. This is magic kindergarten day one stuff. Don’t know why you’re struggling so much.”
“I don’t know either. I feel like I’m doing everything right, but it’s almost like there’s some kind of block. Like my magic is stuck in blackmud.” She shook her head, then bounced back, sitting up straight. “I’ll get there, though! I’ll keep practicing those mental clarity techniques you showed me. Could we go over that ‘inner eye’ concept one more time before you go?”
Ugh. “I’d love to, but I’m crazy tired. Haven’t been sleeping well lately. Just read the notes again. Nothing I can say that I didn’t already write down somewhere.”
“Right. Okay.” Cadance closed the book and stood, stretching her back and wings. “I should be heading to bed soon, too. I’ll have plenty of time to practice tomorrow, so hopefully I’ll be much more consistent next time.”
“Hope so. We really should be past the basics by now.” Sunset shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out in a couple days.” She strapped on her saddlebags and made a brisk trot for the door. Really, she could have teleported out, but that would only exacerbate her already-splitting headache. Although that might have been worth it to deny Cadance her inevitable sappy goodbye.
“Before you go,” Cadance started.
Called it. Sunset stopped but didn’t turn around.
“Thanks again. For coming tonight. I know what I said earlier might have been hard to hear, but I’m happy we were able to talk it out.”
“Don’t mention it.” Seriously, don’t.
“And, um, since we’re starting over, that invitation to my book club is still on the table if you’re interested. I’d love to have you there. I think you would find it fun!”
The “not a chance” almost rolled off Sunset’s tongue without a second thought, but she caught herself. A little extra suffering could prove invaluable in securing Cadance’s trust. If she was going to play this part, half measures wouldn’t do. New game. Old strategies need not apply.
Cadance must have picked up on her hesitation, because she said, “If you change your mind, the first meeting will be in the Clover Lounge at seven o’clock, Saturday night. It should be pretty short since we’ll just be deciding what book to start with.”
Sunset cast a wary glance over her shoulder. “Who else will be there?”
“Oh, nopony so far,” Cadance said, waving a flippant hoof. “I asked a couple of other ponies, but Miss Inkwell is too busy, and Cousin Blueblood still won’t talk to me.”
Smart colt. “So if I don’t come, it’s just going to be you reading by yourself?”
“Pretty much, yes,” Cadance said, her head bobbing.
Sunset stifled a snicker. How pathetic can you be? “I’ll think about it,” she said, then continued her exit.
“That’s all I’m asking.” The sounds of shuffling paper and clattering bowls filled the silence. “Either way, see you Friday. Have a good night!”
“Thanks,” Sunset said. She paused in the doorway, weighed her options for a moment, then added, “You too.”
Cadance flashed her one last smile before the door closed.
Finally free, Sunset nearly collapsed. This whole night had gone so much more simply in her head. Nothing could have prepared her for such a massive wrench in her plans.
Still, she had won in the end. At a cost, sure, but a little patience and flexibility would go a long way on the road to ascension. All she had to do now was not crack under the weight of feigned friendship, string Cadance along long enough to have a clear shot at her prize, and figure out how to sap the Everheart’s magic, all without raising suspicion.
Might as well kick me to Tartarus with a pair of hoof nippers and a bag lunch while we're at it. She brought a hoof to her temple. “Celestia, help me.”
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For all her Machiavellian scheming, three steps ahead and wheels within wheels, Sunset is still wholly unprepared for Cadance's strategy: genuinely caring.
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Indeed! She has quite a hard time wrapping her head around anyone doing something purely out of the goodness of their heart.
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A liar will see liars all around them, and a thief accuses others of stealing.
Ooh, that's the big one. It's all well and good to scheme your way to success, but you do need to spend some time thinking about the post-endgame.
Yeah, because there's no way Sunset could ever relate to devoting herself so intensely to a fruitless quest that she'd miss out on all life had to offer.
And Sunset simply cannot fathom somepony saying what they mean, with no deeper meaning or scheme. What did you expect, Condiment Mane? She literally wears her heart on her butt.
Oh dang. Good for Cadance. She really doesn't have to put up with this.
Heh. Mirrors do tend to be Sunset's biggest weakness.
A fantastic twist on things. Sunset's on the back hoof, whether she wants to admit it or not. And wearing the mask of a friend long enough may see her become one in spite of herself... though I don't see it turning out well. Again, mirrors come to mind.
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It's certainly a very important, often overlooked aspect that Sunset is probably willfully ignoring. She's pretty good at concocting plans and working towards her goals, but less good at considering what the ramifications might be. Like how exactly an army of brainwashed teenagers is meant to conquer Equestria, for instance.
Pfft. I'm amazed I've never heard this before now!
It could be argued that mirrors are both the best and worst things in her life.
Definitely seems like a long shot right now, especially considering that this isn't an alternate universe. We can hope for the best, though!
I'm really impressed that Cadance is self-aware anf mature enough to recognize that Sunset is being toxic. Yeah, she appears to be a bit of a bimbo, but that exchamge went a long way towards developing her character. She's lonely, scared, and troubled, but is doing her best to make the most of a bad situation. I feel bad for her that Sunset is trying to take advantage of her trauma... But this chapter hints that, maybe, Sunset is starting to change. I really hope so! It'd be adorable to see them be besties.
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I definitely felt that it was important to showcase Cadance's emotional maturity. It's such a crucial part of her character. Glad it came through clearly to you.
And you have no idea how much I would love for them to be besties, too! They play off of each other so well, and they both stand to learn things from one another, so it would be a really beneficial friendship. Here's hoping Cadance can get through to Sunset long enough for her to see that.
It's interesting how Cadance's way of speaking shifts to the tune of her emotions in this chapter.
I'd first thought her letter had been sent by someone else entirely, or at least dictated, ghostwritten or advised by Celestia. "I would like to give you the option to terminate our magic studies" startled me as much as it did Sunset, and I didn't recognize Cadance's voice at all for the rest of the letter. A switch was flipped and the tone dropped from her usual warm, friendly and all-caring self to detached, distant and strictly professional—almost like a 'nothing personal, esteemed citizen' layoff.
The vocabulary was what tipped me off; Cadance's is casual and simpler as a whole, but suddenly she sounds like Sunset instead. Of course, Sunset herself is more formal in her internal narration than she is when speaking, and maybe Cadance writing a letter channeled the same thing.
But then, this happens;
'the honest truth is that you're... not helping with that' is what I'd expect Cadance to say. But when I consider how the chapter develops from there, I realize that it's Sunset who brings the formalness out of her.
Cadance recognizes that their current relationship is toxic. Possibly even without the bully part. But at the same time, she considers Sunset "smart, passionate, bold, interesting" and—probably most important of all—she's "the only pony in Canterlot who doesn’t treat me like a princess."
Note that she's not counting 'Celestia, Miss Inkwell and her therapist' at all among such people. The only pony who doesn't see her as a fragile, sacred object of absolute reverence is Sunset, with the vitriol and barely held-in-check contempt that implies.
No wonder she becomes a little more distant and introspective around her. Chances are she doesn't really know what to feel, think or do about Sunset; she wants to be friends, but she's also shown throughout the story that she doesn't want to force her hand or change her in any way.
Even here, it took Sunset doing precisely the opposite—"“You aren’t going to drop this until I agree, are you?”"—before she put her hoof down. And that was to go their own separate ways after the tutoring's done, not to change Sunset. There's not one single 'you should be a little nicer' or anything like that anywhere.
All that said... Cadance didn't convince me that she's not entirely aware she's inviting another Prismia into her heart. "I still consider you a friend" and "reminds me a lot of a friend back home..." You're not fooling anyone, sweetie.
Moving on, I found... something that may or may not be a typo;
I'm not sure if this should be 'lamp' instead. "Amp" can be short for either an ampoule or an amplifier... and, well, all three options are perfectly at home with Equestria and its population of 'it seemed like a good idea at the time' unicorns.
There were some lines that didn't work for me. Subjective as always, but I try to make my comments thorough and balanced;
I'm also fifty-fifty on "Sunset leaned forward with the purposeful lethargy of a horror movie monster," in the sense that I like it but I find something off about "purposeful lethargy."
And finally, the lines I liked;
I can't say I'm too surprised that Sunset sees so much in the way of deception and double meanings and hidden motives when interacting with Cadence. Spend too much time by your lonesome, and eventually all you're going to see is yourself.
And good on Cadance for figuring out that she doesn't need to put up with Sunset's shitty behavior.
You know, coming from someone who spends the majority of her time in some room or another reading by herself, this is fantastically hypocritical.
Sunset is such an reprehensible asshole in this fic.
....
AND I FUCKING LOVE IT!!
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Both of you say that you want Sunset and Cadence to be besties, but my Cadence senses are telling me that your comments mean that you want this:
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Shipping in the broad sense, perhaps, but not in the romantic sense (at least for me).
Cadance is trying so hard to make friends with Sunset that I think it would be adorable for Sunset to give in and become actual friends with her--especially since it would be a big step forward for both their characters. However, I get the feeling that Sunset will only go along with her kicking and screaming, if at all.
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If author decides to stick closer to Canon Sunset, then the fic will end with Sunset going through the mirror, and still hating Cadence's functioning cardiovascular system.
If not, then I can see them becoming friends by the end.
We'll also have to see if filly Twilight still becomes Celestia's personal student.
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Apologies for the very late reply. Been busy as of late, but I didn't forget!
This. So much this. I'm so glad this came through clearly to you.
I don't want to spoil anything going on behind the scenes, so I'll keep this brief, but I'll say this much:
Cadance really has no idea how to handle Sunset. Her thoughts and feelings are tearing her in so many different directions—something she's grown somewhat accustomed to thanks to her past experiences—and she really doesn't want to misstep. She wants to like Sunset, but Sunset's resistance makes that hard. And while Cadance's nature makes her want to work through that resistance, she's been burned before. It's a very confusing, somewhat upsetting situation to be in.
All of that compounded by the fact that she's also dealing with a new home, new culture, new social status, and new responsibilities while trying to learn magic, flight, and royal etiquette, it's a wonder that she's willing to deal with Sunset at all. But not just anyone can be a princess, after all.
Too bad Sunset's too caught up in her own head to realize any of that.
Not a typo, just a fun idea that popped into my head while writing. "Amplifier" is probably the definition that best fits what it is in my head, but I admittedly haven't worked out all of the details of exactly what a lightning amp is.
Thanks as always for pointing out those lines—both the positives and the negatives. Always great to get a second opinion on those, especially on ones I'm on the fence about myself. The whole "lungs. . .bellows" line definitely isn't my best work, haha.
Hoping to have the next chapter done soon. I've been working on a few other projects simultaneously—including my first real shot at original fiction—so it's been slow-going. Hope it'll be worth the wait!
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To be fair, we have no idea from that movie what Sunset's planned return to Equestria would have looked like, because her plans didn't include getting followed back through the portal or losing the crown on the other side. I think we the audience were just so used to watching Twilight break down the first instant an inconsequential detail on her checklist fails to match reality that, with our camera now trained to face somebody looking at Twilight and seeing all of her plans and dreams shatter with nothing there yet to replace them and smirking in response, we'd been ourselves trained not to recognize what we were seeing. And it's really unlikely that before the movie started Sunset had any desire to conquer Equestria. She definitely wanted to confront Celestia and get respect, she wanted to be a leader, she wanted a lot, but she's had a lifetime to see exactly how unpleasant ruling Equestria could actually be. Mid-movie, maybe, as every single thing Sunset thought up was torn apart almost before she could even get started... destabilizing.
I'm also not convinced the "storm the portal with an army of brainwashed teenagers" was an ineffective plan (if you ignore the lack of point beyond "throw a teenage tantrum Celestia can't pretend she didn't notice"), but that's getting off topic and rather speculative because my reasoning is even more "death of the author" there than usual. (Sunset was created to be a one-shot disposable bully who only had any backstory to provide some cheap heat with Twilight. Why should the writers bother to give her a good plan, when nobody's supposed to want her to succeed at anything?) I do think she'd have had way more impact with that last-minute improvisation than Chrysalis has ever been able to do with all her careful planning, and could have both established a beachhead despite the presumed completely prepared defence on the other side of the portal and could have gotten out whatever diatribe she wanted to deliver to Celestia regardless of who was trying to shut her up... and by that point doing so may have been the entirety of her expected gains.
...Maybe I really should look at that "blog" function. The subject comes up a lot, and it never seems worth typing enough on something that off-topic to explain the whole thing into any story's comments.
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The difference is that Sunset WANTS to be alone, while Cadance doesn't.