Chapter 9 – Personal Space
Despite everything, Sunset awoke with a smile.
Part of that had to do with it being Saturday—her favourite day of the week. Yes, she still had classes to attend, but only electives, all of which were far more interesting than anything in the basic curriculum anyway. The school day was shorter by two periods too, leaving her plenty of time to work on personal projects.
And there lay her true source of joy. With fresh eyes and a clear mind, her productivity today would surely skyrocket. Her primary target would be researching emotional resonance in order to fast-track Cadance’s magic training, since that remained Sunset’s biggest hurdle. Secondary to that would be unravelling the enigma around Cadance’s letter, which honestly excited her. She’d always loved puzzles, after all. The more challenging, the better.
With so much to look forward to, not even the looming threat of Cadance’s book club could spoil her mood.
There was one thing that could, however, and even before opening her eyes, Sunset could hear that thing vibrating on her desk.
In an instant, all of her pep and enthusiasm was sucked away by that glowing, hardcover vacuum. She groaned and buried her face in the pillow, hoping it might be some sleep-addled illusion.
When the princess had first given her the correspondence journal, it had been a dream. After all, what filly wouldn’t want a direct line to Princess Celestia whenever she wanted? Sunset had spent far too many nights in her youth huddled under her blanket, scribbling questions and inanities by hornlight until she grew too tired to write.
Over time, though, she had found fewer and fewer reasons to contact the princess outside of their scheduled lessons and dinners. Nowadays, the journal served as little more than a glorified meeting agenda, although Princess Celestia still liked to use it to chastise Sunset for any minor transgression she made.
Some things never changed.
When it became apparent that the buzzing wasn’t in her head, Sunset rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She hovered the journal over, skipped past the litany of foalhood embarrassments and preteen ramblings, and read the newest message.
My dearest Sunset,
I hope this message finds you well. Although given the reason I am writing this in the first place, I presume it may not.
Before I address the issue at hoof, let me be clear: I am not angry. I understand that you have been under considerably more stress this week than is typical. The nature of your most recent assignment has undoubtedly placed you outside of your comfort zone, and I can’t imagine that the harrowing events of Monday evening helped in that regard. Combine that with your already substantial workload, and some frustration is inevitable. If I have personally contributed to this frustration in any way, I apologize. I am, however, disappointed to discover how you chose to handle the situation.
I visited Mi Amore in her chambers last night in order to check on her progress. Imagine my surprise when I find her cleaning broken glass from the carpet and scrubbing ink from the walls, not to mention the damage to her furniture and personal belongings. While it is bad enough that you chose to lash out at somepony like this, to then leave her to deal with the mess all by herself is inexcusable. I had hoped you beyond such behavior, especially towards somepony who claims to be your friend and has shown you nothing but kindness.
But perhaps there is more to this situation than I know. Mi Amore has already vouched in your favour and requested that I not discipline you. I hadn’t intended to regardless, but I would still like to hear your side of the story. Rest assured, I only wish to help, but in order to do that, I need to understand.
Please meet me in the arboretum once you have finished your classes for the day so that we might discuss this further. I look forward to seeing you.
With love,
Princess Celestia
Sunset let the book fall, smothering her face.
How could she have been so careless? Of course Princess Celestia would find out about the pillow fight. She kept eyes on nearly everything Sunset did, and that probably went double when she was with Cadance—her precious niece. Frankly, it stunned her that she hadn’t received this message sooner.
She allowed herself a few minutes to wallow in despair before slumping out of bed and plodding off to the bathroom. She absently brushed her mane as she sorted through her thoughts.
Realistically, did Princess Celestia learning about the pillow fight matter? It technically didn’t compromise Sunset’s plans. In a roundabout way, it actually helped. If Princess Celestia was distracted trying to deal with something that was ultimately meaningless, she’d be less likely to notice Sunset’s real scheme.
When it came down to it, all Sunset had to do was explain her behavior in a way that didn’t implicate Cadance, since that would be too suspicious. There were plenty of other ways she could explain it away, though. And while fooling Princess Celestia wouldn’t be simple, it was by no means impossible. She had done it before, and she still had several hours to cobble together a convincing excuse.
Everything would be fine. The logic was sound.
Unfortunately, logic was a poor defense against the creeping tendrils of paranoia. So much for an easy day.
Nothing else for it, she finished grooming, made her way to the kitchen, and brewed up some Black Skull Island roast in her deepest to-go mug. She had a feeling she was going to need it.
The tedium of schoolwork had helped, as it so often did. It had forced her mind to act like an abacus: rigid and objective. That, in turn, had allowed her to consider her options more clearly, brainstorming the best way to steer this meeting to her liking.
Non-answers wouldn’t work. Given the extent of the damages, Princess Celestia would demand a reason—good, bad, or otherwise. And despite her best efforts, Sunset had been unable to concoct a lie that didn’t sound fake or shallow. Against any other pony she could make such excuses work, but Princess Celestia was Princess Celestia. Sunset needed something ironclad.
Which left her only one real option. An option that had been stuck in her mind like a dull knife since first receiving the message. An option she had been avoiding.
“Truth be told, I’ve been pretty on edge since the dracoform attack, and I guess I lashed out. It helped me work past it, though, and I’m doing better now. You won’t have to worry about anything like this happening again.”
She had rehearsed the excuse until it had become a detached, emotionless script. It still wouldn’t be easy to discuss, but she had come to terms with it. Not only was it the simplest, quickest way out of this, but it was believable. The princess would have no reason to doubt it.
It would work. She was confident it would.
That confidence carried her down the long trek to the castle’s eastern wing, the game plan looping through her mind all the while. Even as she navigated the final few corridors, she felt entirely serene.
All of that evaporated the moment she reached the trellis archway. Suddenly she wondered why she hadn’t just tried faking sick again. Based on the sweat beneath her mane and her heart pounding in her throat, it hardly felt like a lie.
Come high tide or Tartarus, though, she had to confront the princess eventually. She took a steady breath and crossed into the arboretum.
The trees and bushes showed the first tinge of autumn, but the foliage remained dense enough that Sunset couldn’t see the princess immediately. “Princess Celestia? I’m, uh… I’m here.”
“I’m by the flowerbeds, my student,” came the princess’ voice. “Join me, won’t you?”
Head bowed, Sunset took the long path through the shrubs. Before long, it breathed open into a clearing wreathed by colourful flowers. Princess Celestia stood near the marigolds—Sunset’s favourite—nurturing them with sunlight from her horn. Real subtle, Princess.
Sunset trotted up beside her and held silent. When it became clear that Princess Celestia wouldn’t make the first move, Sunset said, “So… you wanted to talk?”
“There are a few matters we need to discuss, yes.” The princess gave a disarming smile. “But it is nothing so urgent as to skip the pleasantries. I trust that you’re feeling better?”
Up until this morning, yeah. “For the most part. Must have been a day flu or something.”
“I’m relieved to hear that. With everything else you’re dealing with, the last thing you need is to fall ill as well.”
“Yeah…” Sunset’s mouth went dry. The sooner I get it over with, the better. “Princess, I don’t mean to rush this, but I did have some projects I wanted to work on this afternoon. I already won’t have as much time as I wanted, what with the…” She broke eye contact. “…the book club, and everything.”
“Oh! My apologies.” Sunset could hear the smile in the princess’ voice. “Mi Amore didn’t mention that you would be attending. I’m happy to hear that you’ve reconsidered.”
“I’m still on the fence about it, actually, but I wanted to leave enough time. Just in case.”
“Very well. I’ll try not to keep you too long, then.” Princess Celestia moved to the stone bench in the middle of the clearing. Sunset followed close behind, slumping into the seat beside her.
“I suppose there’s no sense in dancing around the subject. You know why you’re here.” The princess stared down at her through that blank, daunting mask she wore so often. “Care to explain?”
Sunset cast her gaze to the ground and pawed at the gravel around the bench. “There’s, uh, not really much to say.”
She proceeded to recount the evening exactly as it had happened. It wouldn’t be smart to lie—the princess already had Cadance’s version of events, after all. Sunset did take care to downplay how Cadance had instigated the whole thing, though. Much as it made her grind her teeth, Sunset needed to take all the blame on herself, both to endear herself to the princess and to keep Cadance well outside the conversation. The safer she played this, the better.
To finish, she added, “I would have stayed to help clean up, but I guess I was still a bit shaken from the whole wardrobe thing. I figured the maids would handle it anyway.”
Princess Celestia responded with one of her insufferable silences. Sunset’s best guess as to its meaning was, “Oh, Sunset. You know that Cadance— sorry, Mi Amore is much too incompetent to think to call in a cleaning staff. You shouldn’t presume she can handle anything by herself.”
What the princess actually said was, “That is perhaps a discussion for another time. And while I appreciate you owning up to your actions, I am less concerned with what happened as I am with why.”
Here we go. Sunset’s throat went tight. She opened her mouth to begin her rehearsed explanation, and…
…offered a weak shrug instead. “I don’t know. I guess I was frustrated with how little progress we’d made. It was the end of the week, too, so I was already tired, and I guess I snapped. Cadance just happened to be there.”
“Frustration after a difficult day is one thing, but by the state of Mi Amore’s chambers, I sense there was more at work here. By the sounds of it, she was only trying to engage you in a lighthearted, if ill-timed, game, yet you responded as though she had personally attacked you. Where did that anger come from?”
With a chuckle, Sunset caught the princess’ eyes and said, “Have you met me? I’m not exactly the calmest pony in the world, especially when it comes to games. How many rounds of Monopony have ended with me flipping the board?”
She had been gunning for a laugh. A smile at least. Anything to show that her lame attempts at deflection might be working.
But Princess Celestia’s frown was carved in stone. “You certainly have a competitive streak, and that in itself is not a bad thing. But I know you, Sunset. While you have struggled with self-control in the past, you have come a very long way. Even at your most irritable, I would hope that you draw the line at destruction of property.”
Make her feel bad. She won’t press as hard. Sunset shrank into her mane. “Well, sorry I don’t live up to expectations. Maybe I’m not the pony you think I am.”
“That is not what I meant to imply.” Princess Celestia placed a hoof on Sunset’s shoulder, making her shudder. “Everypony has moments of weakness, my student. I only wish to know what caused yours.”
Sunset grit her teeth. “Why does something have to have caused it? Is it that unbelievable that I was just having a bad day?”
Princess Celestia dragged out the pause before she spoke again, as though she were considering something. “If you can look me in the eyes and honestly tell me this incident was purely the result of a stressful day, I will believe you. However, I think we both know that is not the case.”
Sunset didn’t even bother looking up.
Again, she tried her excuse, and again, the words wouldn’t come. The memory of that terrible night blocked her like a monolith, steadfast and uncaring towards her attempts to break through.
Tears lurked behind her eyes, but she blinked them back. Why is this so hard?
She must have let the silence hang too long, because Princess Celestia said, “It may sound trite at this point, but it bears repeating. You can talk to me about anything, Sunset. I may be your mentor, but I am also your friend, and I am worried. Please, allow me to help you.”
Against her better judgment, Sunset did look up this time, straight into those welcoming lilac eyes.
Suddenly, she was a filly again. She had just spent weeks preparing for her first magic fair at the school, determined to show exactly why the princess had picked her over anypony else. She had been so sure of herself.
So when her experiment had literally blown up in her face, she had run off crying, convinced that she’d ruined everything. The princess would be so disappointed with Sunset’s performance that she would denounce her as her student, send her back to magic kindergarten, and revoke her cutie mark. She could probably do that. Princess Celestia could do anything.
It had only taken minutes for the princess to track her down. At first, the wall of sheer panic had prevented Sunset from listening. But once the princess had torn that wall down, everything had changed. Sunset didn’t remember what had been said—only how she had felt. All of her dark, irrational fears had melted in the warmth of Princess Celestia’s embrace. The whole world had become a brighter, safer place.
That had been the moment Sunset had realized that she didn’t just look up to Princess Celestia. She loved her.
It almost worked. Nice as the memory seemed, it was still just a single photograph in a thick, weathered album. Too much had changed since then, and the princess no longer had the power to fix everything.
She never had that power. I just didn’t want to believe it.
Sunset looked away, scowling with less energy than she would have liked. “It doesn’t matter why it happened. It’s out of my system now. It won’t happen again.”
“Forgive me if I’m not convinced.” The princess eased closer. “By your mannerisms alone, this issue clearly still bothers you, and ignoring it will not help. You cannot solve a problem until you acknowledge it exists.”
Feeling trapped, Sunset worked her jaw uselessly. “I…”—can’t do this—“don’t know what you expect me to say.”
And for a long time, neither of them said anything. The silence grew dense, broken only by the passive breeze. Eventually Princess Celestia removed her hoof from Sunset’s shoulder, allowing the tension in Sunset’s chest to bleed away.
Her plan had completely fallen apart, but maybe this conversation could still end the way Sunset had hoped. Clearly the princess realized that this was a sensitive subject. She would let it drop for now, giving Sunset more time to prepare herself. If she played her cards right, maybe she could even avoid—
“I was scared too, you know.”
The ground fell out from under her. Sunset jerked her head up to see Princess Celestia staring ahead distantly. “Princess?”
The princess’ eyes didn’t move. “When I arrived that evening and saw what had happened to you, there was a part of me that thought I had lost you. Genuinely.”
A frown cut Sunset’s muzzle like a serrated dagger. “Princess, stop. Please.”
Princess Celestia turned to her, forcing Sunset to break her gaze. “We must work past this, Sunset. The first step in doing so is talking about it.”
“Fine, but…” She shook her head. “Just give me some time. It hasn’t even been a week yet.”
“I wish I could, but I fear that if I allow this to sit for too long, you may choose never to resolve it at all.” She paused.
Then took a step too far. “It would not be the first time.”
Sunset wanted to punch her. She probably would have, were it anypony else. “Don’t you dare bring them into this.”
“Then talk to me.”
“No. I don’t want to.”
“And there may never come a time that you will. Believe me, I have seen firsthoof what can come from bottling up these feelings.” Her wing extended, delicately wrapping around Sunset. “I know that it is not easy, but—”
“You’re not—” She zipped her mouth shut before she said anything stupid, then pulled out of the embrace and turned her back on the princess, sitting off the side of the bench. “Just… don’t, okay? This isn’t what I need right now.”
“Then what do you need? What will help?”
“Nothing. I don’t want your help.”
Silence, then, “There’s nothing wrong with discussing your emotions, Sunset. It is not a sign of weakness. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
Sunset pinned her ears. “Stop.”
“Nopony is meant to handle these things alone. It is perfectly natural to—”
“I said stop!” Sunset bolted to her hooves and whirled around, slamming the princess with the full brunt of her glare. “You asked what I needed and I told you: nothing. I’m fine. Why would you even ask if you were just going to keep going like it didn’t matter?!”
The princess looked taken aback, but not as much as she should have. “Because you are very clearly not fine. I respect that these feelings are still raw, and I am not asking you to spill your heart here and now, but it will never get better if you don’t allow it to. Trust me, this is for the best.”
“How do you expect me to trust you when—” you’re the one who put the Everheart there in the first place? Sunset had to bite her foreleg to stop herself. She turned and trotted a few steps away, trying to let her breathing level out.
“Please, Sunset,” Princess Celestia said—too soon before Sunset was ready to hear it, “it breaks my heart to see you in such pain. I cannot help you if you won’t let me in.”
Not falling for that one again.
Speaking through frozen teeth, Sunset said, “I don’t need your help. I don’t need to hear what you think is best for me. And I definitely don’t need to be reminded of things I’ve been trying so hard to forget. Let me handle my own problems.”
If the princess replied, Sunset didn’t stick around to listen. She pictured the warm solace of her suite, gouged a hole in spacetime, and hurled herself through.
The hours scraped by as Sunset struggled to escape her gloom. She tried her usual relaxation tactics—losing herself in research, focusing on personal projects, and screaming into a pillow until her throat hurt—but her anger didn’t care. It lorded over her like a black thundercloud, saturating all her thoughts in acid rain.
Seven o’clock drew near, and desperation had set in, so she decided to make the trot of shame to the Clover Lounge and whatever misery lay within. It couldn’t be any worse than stewing in her own smoggy thoughts, she reasoned.
But if anypony can find a way, it’s Cadance.
Despite being a few minutes early, Sunset wasn’t the first to arrive. Cadance lay across the room in the window nook, reading something by the dying sunlight. A small, three-tier bookshelf stood flush in the corner near her, dwarfed by the three grand bookcases that were typical of the lounge.
Before Sunset even crossed the threshold, Cadance glanced up and smiled. “You came!”
“Mm-hmm.” Sunset lumbered towards the sitting area, launching a spark into the fireplace as she went.
The gently crackling wood was actually somewhat soothing, but then Cadance had to go and ruin it. “Is everything okay?”
“Yup.” Sunset sank into the nearest armchair and stared into the flames, hoping they might put her in a trance.
“Oh, all right then.” Cadance hopped from the nook, her hoofsteps muffled by the wooly carpet. “I brought a few books from my collection. I have some idea of what you like, so I picked most of them based on that, but I brought a little of everything in case you wanted some variety. Did you want to come help me pick one?”
Sunset briefly flicked her eyes to the side. She’s really not going to pry any more than that? “Uh, no, I’m good. Just pick something so we can get on with this.”
“Okay, if you’re sure you trust me to choose something you’ll like.” The dusty sound of shuffling books filled the lounge. “Hmm, Red Velvet and the Hunky Hippogriff might be a good place to start.”
Sunset threw her head against the backrest and groaned. “Fine, I’ll help.” She slid out of the armchair and dragged herself over. “I need a distraction anyway.”
A smirk played on Cadance’s muzzle as she put the book away. “Reading is a great distraction—though I’m sure you knew that already. That’s part of why I wanted to start a book club to begin with.”
Sunset scoffed, levitating a book from the shelf at random. “What could you need to be distracted from?”
“A lot, actually. But talking about any of that would kind of defeat the purpose, so I’ll just leave it there, if you don’t mind.”
Warmth tickled Sunset’s cheeks. In retrospect, it had been a silly question anyway. Even from the little bit Sunset knew about her, Cadance had plenty of things she probably didn’t want to think about. Guess we have something in common after all.
Aside from the odd trashy romance novel, Cadance’s collection honestly had a pretty robust selection. Most of them fell into two broad categories: high fantasy and horror, with a lot of overlap between the two. Sunset had read all the fantasies already, and none of them had interested her enough to warrant a second read. Some of the others looked good, but hardly any eclipsed two hundred pages—nothing she could really sink her teeth into.
“What were you reading when I got here?” Sunset asked, grimacing as she shoved The Black Rose of Trottingham back into place.
Glancing over her shoulder, Cadance contorted her face and made a pitiful attempt to levitate the book over, only succeeding in knocking it to the floor. She scooped it up and held it towards Sunset, who recognized the cover instantly. “I was going through Skyspark again. I haven’t read the sequels, so I wanted to refresh myself before getting into them.”
Sunset wrinkled her muzzle. “I thought it was your favourite book. How have you not read the rest of the series?”
“I didn’t know there was a series. The library in Woodwind had a pretty limited selection. Olive—the librarian—was really nice about bringing in new books for me; otherwise I wouldn’t have anywhere near the collection that I do. But even she didn’t realize that there was more after the first one.”
Sunset shrugged. “You’re not missing much, honestly. Skyspark is the best one by a long shot. I’m just hoping Spur can pull it back for a strong finish in Earthshine.”
Cadance lit up like a filly caught by a surprise party on her birthday. “You never told me you were a Skyspark fan!”
“Didn’t I?” Sunset said, rolling her eyes.
“I could never convince my friends back home to read it. Olive did, but we never really got a chance to discuss it. It’s so exciting having somepony else to talk about it with!”
The glee in Cadance’s voice almost made Sunset want to laugh. “I guess.”
“Maybe we should just start with Skyspark then, since we both like it already. The last book comes out in a couple months anyway, right? Might be a good way to refresh yourself on the series if you need to.”
The suggestion wobbled around Sunset’s mind like an indecisive coin. Honestly, she wasn’t that big on the other books in the Gale Strider Chronicles. Seabreak had been mediocre at best, and she’d had to force herself to finish Firecall, so she wasn’t especially keen on repeating the ordeal.
Then again, she’d technically started rereading Skyspark anyway, even if she’d barely gotten a page into it. Not to mention, the sooner she agreed to something, the sooner they could move on. And she could always force Cadance to pivot to a different series once they finished Skyspark, if Sunset even bothered sticking around for more than one book.
She met Cadance’s giddy smile with an exhausted one. “Sure, why not?”
“Yay!” Cadance leaned forward like she was going in for a hug, but she pulled back just as quickly, still beaming. “This is going to be so much fun.”
“If you say so.” Sunset returned to her armchair. With that part out of the way, all she had to endure now was…
It dawned on her that she didn’t actually know what ponies did in book clubs—other than read, obviously—and a cold surge of anxiety pulsed through her.
Thankfully, Cadance seemed to have some idea of what she was doing. She tucked the book under her wing and followed after Sunset, saying, “So, how much do you think you can get through before next Saturday?”
Sunset looked at her like she’d asked if she knew how to breathe. “All of it? Probably twice, if I really wanted to.”
Cadance chuckled as she took the armchair across from Sunset’s. “Same, honestly, but we should probably break it into smaller chunks if we want to be able to discuss it in any depth.” She opened the book to its final few pages “There’s thirty chapters total—thirty-two with the prologue and epilogue—so maybe we could split it in four. Eight chapters a week?”
“Sounds about as good as anything else. There’s hardly anything worth talking about in the first part, though. It’s a great setup and all, but it’s such a slow burn. Doesn’t get to the interesting stuff until around chapter twelve.”
“Actually, the first act might be my favourite. I’m a sucker for good worldbuilding, and Kindle Spur does it so well. I still get chills during the whole Klugetown masquerade sequence.”
Sunset frowned. “You get chills because you know what it builds up to. None of it actually pays off until they meet Sybilex at the Brackish Isles. What good is great worldbuilding if you don’t do anything interesting with it?”
“I get what you’re saying, but I have to disagree. The world and characters are so much fun that I could probably read a whole book of them just going about their day-to-day lives and not get bored. Especially Asphodel.” Cadance hugged the book tight to her chest and bounced back in her chair, her smile swelling into a goofy grin. “That mare has a special place in my heart.”
And just like that, the slim thread of respect Sunset had gained for Cadance snapped under the immense strain. “Tch, you would like Asphodel.”
Cadance blinked, her smile melting away. “You don’t?”
“I mean, she’s… fine. I guess her backstory is kind of cool. But she’s so useless on her own. And she makes the dumbest decisions. Think about how much drama could have been avoided if she hadn’t abandoned the Scrimshaw of Gales during the first hurricane. But no, she just had to choose saving her friends over, you know, the world.”
Sunset crossed her arms and shook her head. “Honestly, the book would have been better if Gestalt just had Grimsby steal the scrimshaw like they originally planned. Then they wouldn’t have had to worry about dragging her around everywhere.”
“That would be missing the whole point, though!” Cadance leaned forward, pressing the book into her lap. “Del was the only one who could use the scrimshaw safely, so Gestalt didn’t have a choice. And even though he only kept her around because of that at first, he eventually grew to really care about her. It was such an adorable character arc! How can you not love those two together?”
“Uh, maybe because of how forced it was? The fact that Gestalt didn’t ditch her the moment she lost the scrimshaw is ridiculous, practically to the point of being out of character. At that point she’s just a liability. Sure, she eventually redeems herself, but why would he keep her around long enough to redeem herself?”
“Because you don’t just ‘ditch’ your friends!” Cadance’s frown mined new depths in her muzzle. “You make it sound like she didn’t even care, but she struggled for a long time before picking them over the scrimshaw. And Gestalt understood how hard that decision was. That’s when he realized just how important they were to each other.”
“Give me a break.” Sunset leaned her head on her hoof and smacked Cadance with a smirk. “Next you’ll be telling me you’re one of those weirdos who wants them to end up together.”
Cadance’s face turned pinker than usual, and her eyes cowered away. In a small voice, she said, “It’s not weird. Asphodalt would be a great couple.”
Sunset smiled wider than she’d thought possible. “‘Asphodalt?’ You have a name for— for—!”
Like a potent charm spell, laughter seized total control of Sunset’s mind and body. She doubled over and squeezed her eyes shut to prevent them popping from her head. Time and space blended into abstract concepts as she became lost in the sheer hilarity.
She could hardly say what was more ridiculous: the ease with which Cadance had said it, the fact that she’d said it at all, or the absurdity of the name itself! Some combination had ignited a firework show in her chest—mirth purer than anything she’d felt in years.
Her stomach eventually ached in protest, and that was all that stopped her from laughing any longer. As her wheezing died down, though, a gentle giggle reached her ears. Sunset glanced across the table to see Cadance grinning at her, one hoof over her mouth.
Sunset coughed a few times to regain her breath, then asked, “Why are you laughing?”
“I just didn’t expect that kind of reaction from you of all ponies.” Her smile dripped with sap. “It’s refreshing, seeing a different side of you.”
Aw, she’s trying to turn me mocking her into some kind of bonding moment. That’s cute. “Well, don’t get used to it,” Sunset said, wiping away her tears. “Unless you feel like talking about Asphodalt some more.”
“Shut up,” Cadance said, tossing a throw pillow at her, which Sunset batted away. “All right, Miss Killjoy, this is supposed to be a discussion. If you don’t like Asphodel, what do you like about the book?
“Literally everything else,” Sunset said, leaning back in her chair. “She’s the only weak aspect I can think of. If I had to pick a favourite part, though, it has to be the betrayal arc.”
Cadance raised both eyebrows. “Really?”
Wow, I didn’t know a pony’s voice could get that condescending. “Why is that so hard to believe? It’s a great section.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t. I’m just… surprised. I always found it so depressing.”
“That’s what makes it good. Gestalt giving in to his darker, power-hungry side after Sybilex tempted him for so much of the book?” Sunset threw up her hooves in resignation—the story spoke for itself. “And you’re lying if you say you didn’t get actual chills when he switched sides in the battle at Vanishing Point.”
“Oh, that scene always makes me cry. Seeing him turn on Del was bad enough, but the rift it created between him and Grimsby? That was heartbreaking.”
“Exactly! Sybilex knew just how to get inside Gestalt’s head to make him turn, even on his best friend. It was brilliant. That’s when I knew he was the best character.” Until Spur butchered his redemption arc in the sequels.
Strangely, Cadance chuckled at that. “Okay, now you’re messing with me.”
Sunset glared as though she’d been slapped. “What does that mean?”
Either oblivious or actively trying to get on Sunset’s nerves—probably both—Cadance simply smiled and said, “Come on. Sybilex? He’s a good foil, I’ll give you that, but better than all three Gale Striders? That’s pushing it a little.”
“‘Pushing it’ my flank. The only one who’s even close to being as interesting as Sybilex is Gestalt, and he’s the main character. Besides, I’m not about to take criticism for my favourite character from somepony whose idea of ‘the best’ is a flirtatious pegasus who’s more of a plot device than an actual pony.”
Cadance gave a darker frown than Sunset would have expected. “I’m not criticizing. You can like whoever you want. I’m just saying that Sybilex wouldn’t be my first choice. He doesn’t even show up until almost halfway in, after all, and he gets almost no exposition after that.”
Oh, you absolute— “The mystery is what makes his character work! We don’t know where he’s coming from, what his endgame is. We don’t even know why he’s after the idol. His dialogue alone makes you want to know more about him.”
“That’s true,” Cadance admitted, then smirked. “Though I’m not sure he’d be nearly as compelling without Asphodel there to give Gestalt an internal conflict.”
Unable to resist rolling her eyes, Sunset said, “Puh-lease. Del barely factored into Gestalt’s final decision.”
Cadance’s jaw fell slack like a moron. “How can you say that? She was the most important part of his decision!”
Sunset raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure we read the same book?”
Cinching her mouth shut, Cadance opened the book and began scouring pages. “Maybe it’s been too long since you’ve read it. I know just the scene that’ll remind you. Give me one second.”
“Yeah, no.” Sunset ripped the book from her clutches and dropped it on the coffee table. She leapt from her chair and began flitting through the pages herself. “If that’s the game we’re playing, then you’re going to reread Sybilex’s introduction first so you can admit how great it is.”
“I never said—” Cadance closed her eyes, pulled in a sharp breath, then met Sunset with a cool, distant look. She joined her at the table and said, “Okay, deal. But that means I get to show you how the chase through the Underwell proves Gestalt cared about Del before she sacrificed the scrimshaw.”
“You are so on.”
Sunset nibbled on the last chocolate scone, eyeing Cadance like a teacher fed up with her student’s excuses. “You’re not going to find it.”
Flipping pages in vain, Cadance said, “I will if you give me more than thirty seconds.”
“We could be here all night and you wouldn’t find anything.” Sunset tossed the remains of her scone onto the dining cart—it had shown up sometime during the “best leviathan” debate. “Just admit it. There is zero evidence that Gestalt ever saw her as more than a friend.”
Cadance didn’t respond. A few moments later, she stopped on a page, turned back a few, and smirked. “Oh, really?” She thrust the book towards Sunset, pointing to one paragraph in particular. “Then what do you call this?”
Sunset yanked the book closer and read the passage.
Asphodel beheld me with those haunting sapphire eyes, rendered all the more striking through the veil of moonlight. Her lips cracked in a wistful curve, and her golden locks bounced with her laughter. “Can’t say the feeling’s mutual, Gessy.”She skimmed the parts above and below, just in case Cadance had been pointing to something else. “I call it character description. Or scene setting. What’s your point?”
“Don’t you think it’s just a bit more romanticized than Gestalt’s usual voice? Not to mention, he always calls her mane blonde before this point, but he suddenly switches to ‘golden?’ And his last name is Goldenclaw?” Cadance boasted the grin of somepony who’d called “checkmate” one turn too early.
“All right, there’s literary analysis, and then there’s reading into things that aren’t there.” Sunset grabbed a chunk of pages in her magic and turned back to the start of the book. “Kindle Spur writes flowery prose; one look at the prologue will tell you that. It doesn’t mean anything unless you want it to. By your logic, Gestalt must have a crush on every other character too!”
Cadance’s ears drooped, and she hit Sunset with a half-lidded insult of a stare. “That’s only true of Spur’s imagery. Her character descriptions are always simple and to the point, which reveals Gestalt’s impersonal demeanor. That’s why this part stands out so much.”
“That’s a lie and you know it.” Sunset started skipping through pages again—a well-honed skill at this point. “I bet I can find—”
A heavy knock nearly made Sunset jump out of her coat. She and Cadance turned to face the door, where the plumed head of a royal guard poked in. “Pardon the intrusion, Princess. I was instructed to come find you if you were out this late without warning. Is everything all right?”
What does he mean “this late?” Sunset thought, checking the grandfather clock. It’s only…
The clock’s cold, inarguable hands shoved her back into reality. How is it quarter past eleven already?
Apparently she wasn’t alone in her surprise, given Cadance’s wince. “Sorry, Viridian. I guess we lost track of time. We’ll be finished shortly.”
The guard smiled the practiced smile Sunset had grown to loathe. “No rush, Princess.” He spared Sunset a nod before closing the door.
“Well, that certainly got more… heated than I expected.” Cadance gave a flushed grin and eased the book out of Sunset’s hooves. Sunset gave it up without a fight. “I feel like we hardly even need to read the book anymore.”
“Yeah, I, uh, guess not.”
“I’d still like to, though. You made some great points about Sybilex. I’m not saying he’s my new favourite, but it’ll be fun going through the story with a different perspective! I’m looking forward to it.”
She paused, baiting Sunset to respond in kind. Which is what a “friend” would do. Don’t screw this up now.
Putting on her best smile, Sunset said, “Same. I’m not about to start an Asphodel fan club or anything, but I guess I can give her another chance.” Her smile deflated. “You’re still sailing that Asphodalt ship by yourself, though.”
Cadance laughed and said, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She sidled up to Sunset and pulled her into a one-winged hug. “You’ll come around, though. Nopony can resist the cuteness forever.”
“Challenge accepted.” Suppressing the tingle in her chest, Sunset ducked out of the embrace and said, “We, uh, really should call it a night, though. I’ve got a long walk back, and we’ve got to be up early for your magic lesson and everything.”
“Right, of course.” Cadance awkwardly folded in her wing and opened her mouth.
Then she closed it, and her eyes wandered away. “But you know, my chambers are closer. You could always sleep over if you wanted to save yourself a trip. We’re meeting up in the morning anyway, so it kind of makes sense to…”
Sunset’s face must have given her away, since Cadance stopped talking the moment she looked back.
“…And I’m being too forward again.” Cadance facehoofed. “Wow, I am so bad at this. Sorry for putting you on the spot like that. My… friend and I used to have slumber parties back home, so I thought that maybe—”
“No, no, I get it,” Sunset stammered, even though she had no clue what to say next. “And, you know, I’m flattered, and normally I’m all about efficiency, but I have a… homework, thing, I have to do.” Dynamite excuse, Sunset. A+ for that one.
“Totally! That’s fine. It was a silly idea anyway.” Cadance extended a hoof, her expression betraying nothing. “See you tomorrow, then. Bright and early!”
“Yeah, definitely.” Unsure how else to proceed, Sunset quickly shook Cadance’s hoof and made for the exit. “Well… good night.”
“Good night! Thanks again for coming. I know this sort of thing probably doesn’t come easily to you, so I appreciate you giving it a chance.”
“Sure. No problem.” It was fun, she almost added, but that might have made things too weird. The night had gone well, as far as earning Cadance’s trust. Why risk messing it up?
Would have been better if you’d accepted her invitation instead of freezing up like a dork. A sleepover might not even be that bad, if tonight was any indication.
The thought left her cold. She made for her suite before Cadance could poison her mind any further.
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The fact that she considers having fun to be a bad thing is a major red flag. Girl has self-esteem issues.
It was then that Sunset realized it: Cadence was the Princess of Shippers.
It's so painful seeing her come so close to genuine friendship, and then walk away from it.
Sunset has some genuine unresolved damage in there. Cadence comes close to helping it—certainly closer than Celestia—but it'll take more than mundane friendship to get through those defenses.
Looking forward to the next chapter. This is a great story.
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Thanks, glad you're enjoying it so far! I've been on a little break from writing, but I'm hoping to have the next chapter done relatively soon.
Careful there Sunset, you're coming dangerously close to enjoying yourself.
Honestly, you're making that book sound pretty appealing, if the prose weren't so purple.
"We could fix ourselves a cup of cocoa, warm each other through the cold of the night... hey, random question, but how does 'Sundence' sound to you?"
Oh gosh, I'm so glad that I got caught up on all of this. On one hand, I wish it hadn't taken so long, while on the other I'm so glad I got a backlog to go through. I think I really would have struggled to be patient and waiting for this to update. I remember getting so frustrated with the lack of any Cadance (or even human Cadence) and Sunset Shimmer content that gave insight into what their relationship may have been, or if they knew each other at all. While I've been flexing my own take on the two for a while, I've been waiting for more to pop up. Krickis has a good take on the two, and so do a handful of other authors.
But whole stories focused on the two? This is probably the first I've seen that tackles the concept, and I love it. The characterization and setting are my favorite aspects. Sunset Shimmer actually feels like a student here and a filly. The same goes for Cadance. Their banter, feelings, and interests really line up well with the idea of them both growing up as teenagers in a magical fantasy land instead of some kind of supreme moral opposites who are these emotionally-cranked up adults in childrens' skin. Believable portrayals of characters who are authentic, irrational, quirky, or whatever type-of-personality kids (even horse kids) are hard to find. Sunset being written as a troubled adolescent with social misunderstandings makes far more sense than having her portrayed as consciously evil. It's not something that works very well, if at all. Cadance is adorable and delightful. I want to pinch her cheeks and have sandwiches with her. Her shipper brain and textual analysis are darling. Celestia is... interesting here. You do a good job at showing her to be kind of subtly condescending or at least too fussy with Sunset. Celestia's pupil is clearly a minor in need of help, and there is palpable favoritism and unwillingness to just put Sunset (a tween/teen) where she'll get help instead of endless riddles and meddling orchestration of something that doesn't solve Sunset's problems long-term. Is it entirely in character? Oh, certainly, but it also provides a lot of sadness for what anguish we know Sunset goes through.
Sunset may not be a very good kid, but she's not in the best environment to make her feel anything but overshadowed and forced to wither.
Just commenting to let you know I enjoyed this story. I’m also a little surprised on this stories take about how Blueblood would respond to a new princess instead of trying to use her for selfish gain like Sunset is.
Huh, re-reading this and just realised it hasn't been updated for two years and author hasn't been on in a year. I think it might be a deadfic. =(