Act I ~ Chapter Three ~ The Garden
III
The Garden
“So, how did school go today, Sunset?”
No sooner had Sunset stepped into the study than Princess Celestia asked the last question she wanted to answer. One week of living here in the Palace, and never had she met anypony more astute or observant.
“It went well,” Sunset lied, shrugging. She hopped onto the nearest seat, swiveling it around to take in the sight.
Celestia’s study was somewhere near the guest wing, she knew that much. Not significantly larger than Celestia’s room, from what glimpses she’d caught, but it held a certain grandeur, with its tall ceiling and aged wooden floor. Most of the walls were covered in bookshelves surrounding the central desk and chair, and a large orrery hung from the ceiling.
One feature that drew Sunset’s eyes, though, was the great canvas that dominated one corner of it, left barren and featureless. Painting supplies at the ready, yet untouched.
“Hm,” said Celestia. “You’re here early. Is something wrong? I’m still busy at the moment, but–”
“It’s fine,” Sunset cut her off, wincing. “It’s nothing. Let’s just get our stuff done. You said you’d teach me something about teleporting today.”
It was too late. Celestia’s characteristic tranquility was broken by a frown.
“Sunset,” she began. “Please. You know you can be honest with me.”
“It’s nothing,” answered Sunset. “Those jerks talked about me behind my back when I turned the mirror into sand faster than anypony else. And… and I said it was a trick you taught me. Focus on the compo– composition of the mirror. And I followed everything you said. It’s just that…”
She trailed off. What was the point? She had little business wasting Celestia’s precious time.
“Hm,” said Celestia. “It doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”
“No. It’s… I just said that I meant to say it was you and–” Sunset said, waving a hoof in dismissal. But inside, her heart was pumping. “And it didn’t come out just– I mean, I meant to say you did… And I just said Mom…”
She shut up almost immediately. Too late to retract, she knew, from the way Celestia raised an eyebrow.
“Breathe, Sunset,” Celestia said calmly. “Once more, you can be honest with me, as comfortable as you can be.”
“… I called you Mom,” Sunset let out, almost spitefully. “Then they told me I didn’t have one.”
At that moment, the Princess set her quill down. She didn’t look at Sunset, no, but Sunset swore she saw her brow furrow.
“And what did you say?”
“I told them to shut up. I got pretty loud,” Sunset said, listless. She hadn’t mentioned the angry spark out of her horn, one that got the nearest teacher to cry out in alarm and drag her outside the room for a stern talking-to.
“Well, I say,” the Princess said sternly. “It seems I have a visit to make. Neighsay should really know better by now.”
What had she done? Why did she tell her?
“No–” Sunset began, ignoring her own voice cracking. “I can handle it.”
The Princess waved a wing. “Sunset. It is no sign of weakness to ask for help. What the others said to you was cruel, and uncalled for.” She sniffed. “And it is my responsibility to see that every one of my students are taken care of.”
“It’s fine, it’s just… it’s whatever,” Sunset said, but she knew she had to concede. Something drew her eye, though, and what better distraction than whatever Celestia was working on?
“…You’re not looking at our grades, are you?”
“You have very keen eyes, Sunset, but no, I’m not,” said the Princess, her tone of defeat rather unconvincing. “I’m writing my next book.”
Sunset frowned. “I didn’t know you wrote.”
“Few ever do. So, keep it a little hush now, would you, Sunset?”
“Okay, Mo– Princess.”
There she went again. How dare she? Who was she to speak so irreverently of the Princess, who’d been so generous and kind, who’d recognised the talent she and only she could ever wield.
Yet this did not seem to bother Celestia, who returned to look at her book.
Curiosity got the best of Sunset, and she leaned forward for a closer look. It was a half-finished water-colour drawing of a midnight-blue mare with a starry mane. There was a text of beautiful cursive written on the still-white space. She couldn’t make out what it said, yet it dawned on her–
“You’re writing… a children’s book,” Sunset said, marveling at it, though she couldn’t help but let a little disappointment slip in. “I thought it was a novel or something.”
“Oh, no,” said Celestia. “I like drawing, and reading. And children like both. So why not?”
Sunset shook her head. “I don’t get it. Why are you telling me this?"
“Hm. Is that not what families do, share secrets? You did ask what you should call me. Would you like to call me Mom?”
A furious blush burned on her cheeks. Sunset could just feel it. “I– I just– the others…”
“You’re worried they’re not going to believe you,” Celestia finished for her. “That settles it. I’ll go tell them myself.”
“No wait, you don’t have to Mo– Princess.”
Idiot! Why did she say that? But Celestia’s laugh was melodious and cheery and her gaze was as kind as it was lively. Goodness knew how she found humour here.
“Sunset, dear child,” said Celestia. “I would be deeply honoured if I could call you my daughter.”
The words hit Sunset like that splash of ice-water – the feeling she’d left behind at the orphanage.
For the longest time, Sunset found she had little else to say. No words came to her mind as Celestia’s pronouncement hung in the air. It didn’t make sense to her – at first. In what short time they had, what had she done to earn it?
Then came the wetness in her eyes, and tightness in her chest, and Sunset tore her gaze away. Celestia didn’t need to see it. She shouldn’t trouble the Princess. Yet her mind was in a spiral now, a flurry of images and–
A pale white crib. The feeling of cold raindrops. Vague whispers that she could never discern.
The orphanage doors. The incessant crying and whining that filled the lonely nights. The view of the stars and night-time skies from the damp attic.
Then, above all, Celestia.
Her smile when she came upon the orphanage. The airship in her magical grip. The hope that the Princess would come notice her.
And now…
Sunset choked out a tiny gasp. Her breathing grew faster. Her eyes brimmed with unspilt tears.
Then, she felt it. A wing on her back, warm, comforting. She dared not look at its owner, not when her walls came tumbling down.
“Sorry I’m just… sleepy,” Sunset lied, wiping away at her eyes. “Long day.”
“Oh, you can sleep here if you want,” said Celestia. “It’s a long walk to your room.”
“I guess just for tonight,” Sunset said, hiccuping a little. She glanced up, meeting her mother eye to eye. “I still have school tomorrow… Mom.”
A great weight was lifted off her chest. She felt a quiver. Celestia’s smile was warm and sweet. “Okay, Sunset. Rest well.”
* * * * *
In the days that followed, Sunset Shimmer saw little of Cadenza.
She’d planned it, of course. She had little business talking to her, and the same went the other way. As far as Sunset was concerned, it was a win-win solution. Only a polite greeting here and there, and nothing else to say or think about. She’d have her studies, and Cadenza would have whatever it was she did.
It was just that, mind. A plan. Sunset hadn’t anticipated that Cadenza would be such a nag.
The first irritation came upon her the very next day after dinner. No sooner than Sunset had touched the dining room’s doors that Cadenza walked up to her, eyes full of worry, and said…
“I read about teleportation. You can’t get a license yet until you’re sixteen, I hear. Sorry, I’m just worried you’d get caught–”
Sunset heard nothing else, having pushed ahead to attend breakfast. But the damage was done, and no more teleportation was to be had afterwards. Sunset worried that she’d tell on her, and that wouldn’t do at all.
Another came when Cadenza popped in after school and asked if she’d done her homework, because Kibitz gave her plenty and she’d been concerned if Sunset was keeping up as well with her own workload.
Sunset didn’t care much for that, but she did look into her own homework, and found so much more she could do, all the possible testing and tinkering with every spell in her books. Every day, every hour whenever she could, Sunset stole little moments to read inbetween those private lessons and classes that all blended into the same stale lecture. Firmer grasps with her aura, better flourish with her stances in casting, all tiny details her books told her. And of course, fire – her fire that burnt better than any of her peers could ever manage.
Her mother had plenty of kind words to say, but Sunset knew there was always more. Above all, her tried-and-true teleportation, flawless as it had ever been. It tired her so, teleporting back and forth between her room and her mother’s study, avoiding glances. A little push and she’d have fallen over on her legs by the end of the week. Yet she craved the feeling of flowing with the air in each fleeting moment, as the wonders of flight remained outside her grasp.
For the time being, she reminded herself. Her mother had told her how no alicorn had risen in so many centuries since Luna and herself had been born millennia past. But her mother had her own theories, of the stardust and its interactions with the mortal plane, that anyone could become an alicorn, and that hope was enough for Sunset.
All she wanted to know for certain, at the end of it all, was if she could surpass Cadenza.
But it was when Sunset had come home from a particularly strenuous test on alchemy, the day before all Canterlot would finally see Mi Amore Cadenza in full, that she saw someone had broken into her mother’s garden.
* * * * *
Princess Celestia was no gardener. Sunset knew this, because the amount of times her mother visited the Palace Gardens – or at least, the ones that she knew about – could be counted on hardly more than four hooves. She usually left care of it to Mister Greenhooves, and that was how it had always been.
Above all, though, it was still her mother’s garden. So when Sunset noticed a stray pot lying on its side out in the open, where it once had always been so tidy and well-maintained, it stuck out more than a Reindeer’s nose.
Her suspicions were furthered when, as she carefully approached the pot, she heard the telltale hum of a magical aura and the singing of a melodious voice.
It all added to quite the surprise when she turned ‘round the corner and saw Cadenza by herself. Cadenza, surrounded by shears and pots and bulbs, her hooves and wings stained with dirt. She stood at the centre of the garden, humming a whimsical melody to herself as her horn lit up and raised her shears ever so slightly, ready to cut a rose.
“What– what do you think you’re doing?”
The words came out more strangled than Sunset had intended. At once, Cadenza dropped the pair of shears, which landed with a muffled thud upon the grass. She turned around, meeting Sunset eye-to-eye. She was holding a rose in her mouth, one that she abashedly spat upon the ground after a moment.
“Oh, uh–” she stammered out. “Hello, Sunset, I’m just– making myself busy, oh, dear…”
Her eyes drifted from Cadenza to the rose that lay on the grassy ground, then to more roses that Cadenza had brought with her in little bushes – vile little flowers, roses, Sunset had never liked them much – to the garden around them.
How to describe the garden? A catastrophe. A calamity. A righteous mess. She found herself at a loss of words to describe the atrocity Cadenza had inflicted upon the whole darn place.
There were flowers out of place, pots of tiny lavender bulbs that mingled with shrubs. Flowers whose names escaped Sunset, mixed with those Mister Greenhooves had surely planted with great care. All the colours in disarray, purple and pink and white and who knows what else. And… were those vines Cadenza had planted near the pillars, and tiny bamboo shoots too? They’d surely grow wild with abandon, strangling the delicate beauty her mother had ensured would be in place.
With a shaking forehoof, Sunset pointed at a pot of lavender. “These shouldn’t go there,” she said, her voice lowering. “Mom said so. I know they don’t.”
Cadenza looked at them. “Oh I… felt they’d be perfect here. I just–”
Sunset silenced her with a fierce glare, her jaws clenched tight. The intruder had come to this sanctuary at last, her mother’s garden and retreat from worldly woes, and just waltzed right in, stepping upon it, tarnishing it with her touch like it was nothing at all.
“Stop,” Sunset hissed out. “Just stop it.”
“…I thought it’d be nice,” Cadenza replied. Her voice quivered, her aura flickering and fading. “I was just– trying– I didn’t know…”
Sunset took a step forward. Cadenza stood taller than she, yet still the other filly seemed to wither under her gaze.
“Then why did you do that?” Sunset asked, her voice rising with each syllable. “Why did you touch Mom’s garden? Why did you have to ruin it?”
“Sunset–”
But Sunset had turned away, huffing. Whatever Cadenza had meant to say, she hardly needed to know. She returned from whence she came, hooves crushing a stray rose on her way out of the silent garden.
* * * * *
The afternoon Sun shone warmly this fine Spring day, yet Sunset cared little for it. Not today, not after the atrocity she’d seen in the gardens. She hadn’t even bothered teleporting out, for she could hardly find the concentration she needed.
All she knew was to leave as quickly as possible, out of the Palace, out into the streets of Canterlot. With her fortress breached, her options were scarce. Only one remained, and Sunset knew she had to get there before Cadenza could catch a whiff of where she was headed.
Escaping the grounds was easy enough. The usual journalists posted outside the Palace were busy with the afternoon agenda in Parliament, and, if needed, she could always call upon the Guards patrolling the streets to aid her.
Not that she needed any help. Not when her destination was the safest place outside of the Palace.
She’d visited it often after school. A little flower-shop down the road, almost halfway between the Palace and the School for Gifted Unicorns. When she arrived there, it looked just as welcoming as it’d been in all the times she’d visited. A humble facade of wood and stone, pots hanging outside and upon racks. Fairly popular, from what she could recall, but it was quiet, and the quiet was what she’d really like right about now.
Normally, she’d have teleported right in. The owners never minded. They’d always welcomed her. All her frustrations, her worries and stress. Everything accepted with a nod and a friendly ear.
Today would be no different, she was sure.
With clenched teeth, Sunset slammed the door open and let out the loudest yell she could muster above the sound of rattled doors, a falling pot, and a feeble yelp.
“Gah! I’m done. I’m tired. I’m sick of… gah, just, ughhh.”
With heavy stomps, she went to her usual corner, past the towering flower racks, taking care not to step upon any pieces of the shattered pot. She lay down on her stomach, taking deep, calming breaths. It wouldn’t help much, though. Nothing had changed, and she was still very tired.
It didn’t take long for the shopkeeper to join her side at last with a gentle pitter-patter of tiny hooves.
‘Shopkeeper’ was perhaps too generous. The little green filly before her merely helped her parents around. What else could a nine-year old do? But she was no stranger. Sunset spared her a fleeting glance. Her usual hat was still there, drooping ever so slightly, so oversized it was.
Very slowly, Wallflower Blush put down the gardening hat, looking at her with those innocent brown eyes.
“Hey, um, you okay?” she asked, with a voice so soft that it was curious how she could ever hope to be heard during the store’s busier hours. “You seemed pretty upset there, Sunset.”
Of course. So prescient in her silence. Sunset wondered how she did it.
“No, I’m not,” Sunset replied. No use lying. In her own way, Wallflower would catch on. “Not okay. Won’t be. Not if she’s still there.”
Wallflower tilted her head.
“Who’s there?”
“Her!”
“…Princess Celestia?”
“What– no!” Sunset exclaimed, glaring at Wallflower. “Why would I call Mom– no, darn it,” she continued, rubbing her temple. “Cadenza. I’m talking about Cadenza.”
“Cadenza?”
“Read the news!” Sunset retorted. Stars above, Wallflower was young, alright. She paused, taking in a sharp breath. “No, actually, wait, it’s gonna be tomorrow. Whatever. See if I care. I don’t get what the big deal is. I don’t get why she’s staying. I mean, I’m here already.”
Messy, sloppy, and above all uncontrolled diction. Kibitz would be appalled. But by now, what care could she give, Sunset thought, that would change it all?
“...Sunset?” Wallflower asked again, slower and more deliberately. “Are you getting a new sister?”
So unthinkable and absurd was Wallflower’s question that Sunset had to bite down a humourless laugh.
“Very funny,” Sunset snarked. “Very, very funny.”
‘Keep it calm. Okay, keep it cool, keep it cool…’
“No. Cadenza’s just some… some… provincial girl Celestia took in from Oleander.”
“I– It wasn't a joke,” Wallflower said, and incredibly, her voice seemed even quieter this time. “Um. Oleander’s really far. Maybe, maybe she’s special. Like you.”
Almost instantaneously, Sunset felt her eye twitch. The audacity.
“Special now, is she?” Sunset echoed. She tapped a hoof impatiently. “It’s not like she’s good at anything. She’s just the, the, the worst. She’s nosey, she smells like roses, and she has wings and a horn! The way she carries those around, it’s like she doesn’t know how good she’s gotten it.”
Wallflower tilted her head. “Oh. She’s like, she’s just like your Mom, then.”
“Yes, pay attention,” Sunset chided. “Why does she get to be a princess? What’d she ever do? She doesn’t– she wasn’t even born with that stupid pink horn of hers. I just don’t get it! And now Mom wants to show her off on the balcony in front of everyone, and I have to be there because it’ll be nice and I just– Argh!”
She buried her face in her hooves. Everything had gone all so wrong, there was little doubt about that. All the sweet words her mother had to say. None of it mattered now.
What else was there left to do, after all, when Cadenza had gotten everything right, and nothing she’d done had amounted to anything?
“Sunset, um, even if Cadenza has wings,” said Wallflower, voice ever so slightly firmer. “I think you’re still cool. You can do all the things you showed me, and, and maybe Cadenza can’t. And that makes you cooler.”
Cool. How flattering. Yet she couldn’t deny the warmth that blossomed in her heart. Sunset, sighing, looked up from her hooves.
“You think so?”
The younger filly nodded vigorously. “Y-yeah, you are.”
Sunset let out a chuckle. “Guess I am,” she affirmed. Still, her frown remained. The thought of Cadenza was so… clingy. “But I can’t even teleport here anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Cadenza said I haven’t got my license yet. How in Equestria she knows about that. And I– and I don’t want her to tell Mom. Or whatever. I don’t know. She said she’s worried about me getting caught, but come on.”
“That’s too bad,” said Wallflower, sounding all the sadder. “But teleport or no teleport, you’re still really cool, Sunset. And um, if it’ll cheer you up, I’ll be there. In the crowd, I mean. Is that okay with you?”
Sunset waved a forehoof. “Yeah, sure, whatever,” she said. She doubted she’d be able to even see the shrinking violet that was Wallflower. “But just because Mom told me, doesn’t mean I have to smile, right?”
“Maybe not,” answered Wallflower. “And I mean, with what you told me, Cadenza sounds just awful.”
There it was. Victory. She wasn’t alone after all.
“She is!” exclaimed Sunset. “Finally, someone gets it–” She cleared her throat. “I mean, yes, she really is. I haven’t even mentioned all the questions she asked, like, seriously… So many questions, you have no idea, no idea at all.”
Wallflower nodded, and Sunset understood to keep going. So she did.
All the little things Cadenza did, all her little quirks. Her inability to levitate more than a few items at once. Her less-than-elegant table manners. Her incessant, unending questions. It pleased Sunset knowing Wallflower was here, knowing that, even though everyone else in the Palace had seen little issue and was all but smitten with that upstart, there remained someone who understood.
Then came the matter of the garden, and what Cadenza had done to it.
“What am I supposed to do, darn it,” Sunset lamented. “She isn’t going anytime soon and… Mom’s garden’s not gonna survive any longer at this rate. Got anything to suggest?”
“I don’t really know, Sunset,” said Wallflower. She gave a quick glance to the side, towards the back door. “Our garden isn’t very big.”
Sunset rolled her eyes. “Bah, guess it’s a lost cause.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know how I can help,” said Wallflower. “It’s awful mean of her to ruin the Princ– your Mom’s garden. But you could always just tell her to knock it off, maybe?”
Sunset groaned. “Yeah. Just tell her. That’d be easy. It isn’t like she wouldn’t shut up. What makes you think she’ll listen to what I’d say? Oh, that dumb accent of hers…”
She paused, sitting up straight.
Her accent. That Provincial Oleandrite, thick as syrup. All the Oleandrite words she’d sprinkled in her speech and tried so desperately to hide.
“...I have to go,” she said breathlessly. “I’ve got an idea.”
Sunset stood up, heading straight for the door. Just before she exited, she looked back at Wallflower, sitting there at their spot with a curious stare. Something had to be said. The little filly had helped, after all.
“See you at the ceremony tomorrow, then,” said Sunset.
She didn’t wait to hear Wallflower’s answer as she closed the door behind her and marched right back towards the Palace.
* * * * *
Canterlot was already basking in the light of the late afternoon Sun by the time Sunset returned to the Palace. Activities had wound down, and Sunset saw no more than a few Guards and staff mulling about, mostly the night-shift workers. She knew exactly what she had to do. But first she needed to find Cadenza, wherever she was. And that, to her dismay, was much less certain.
First Sunset went to the kitchen, fleetingly hoping for a sign Cadenza had snuck off for a snack. Then the library, presuming that she might be holed up in a personal bookfort. Finally, the garden, still bearing signs of her uninvited meddling.
None held Cadenza, not a single feather. No one had seen her, either, not even Kibitz or Blueblood, who by chance Sunset had come across in her relentless search.
Only just as Sunset was on the verge of giving up, her eyes starting to tire and her mind a little fuzzy, the Sun having disappeared below the horizon and the moonlight beginning to shine through the windows, did she find her.
So slightly was the door cracked that Sunset, on her way to her own bedroom, might have missed it. But she caught the faintest of lights emanating from within her mother’s private study, and so she pushed the door open in full.
There the alicorn was, fast asleep, head resting on her mother’s desk.
‘Of course,’ Sunset thought, feeling her anger rise. ‘One second my eyes are off you, and you go ahead and do what you always do.’
With her teeth clenched and hooves trembling, Sunset went over to the desk and shook Cadenza. Her eyes shot open in an instant.
“Oh-wh-what, what time is it?” Cadenza said, eyes darting left and right. Then, her eyes widened. “Oh. Hello, Sunset.”
Sunset rolled her eyes. “Hrmf, funny place to sleep in.”
Cadenza’s laugh was sheepish. “I guess so.” She let out a long yawn. “Oh, sorry about that, I’m just… tired.”
“Yeah, I can tell.”
“Mhm.” A pause. “Um, Sunset? Listen, about the garden–”
“It’s whatever,” Sunset lied. She still needed to be careful with her tone, though. Best not let Cadenza piece things together first. “It happens.”
“Um, alright…” Cadenza said. Perhaps there was a fleeting uncertainty from her, but Sunset paid it no heed. “So. I guess I got distracted and all. Still am, honestly. Sorry, sorry, I’m all over the place right now.”
Sunset was about to retort when she followed Cadenza’s stare all the way to the great painting her mother had worked on for years.
Princess Luna was the most prominent figure drawn in the centre, her light-blue coat contrasted with Celestia’s pale alabaster. In the years that had gone by since she’d first seen the canvas, her mother had added more onto it, starting with her own self-portrait. Strange choice to give herself a pink mane, but then again Celestia did have a fondness for hair dye that Sunset could not make heads nor tails of.
Beside Sunset’s mother stood a purple mare – not much older than herself or Cadenza – with a mane of almost the same shade of blue as Aunt Luna’s. A tall, pale mare stood next to Luna, and were it not for the lack of wings and her brilliant, gradient red mane, she might have passed for another sister of Celestia’s.
Radiant Hope and Princess Amore, Sunset recalled their names. Daughter and mother. Two of the lost Crystal Realm’s royal family members. To her understanding, they had been Luna’s descendants, their family line broken when it disappeared almost a thousand years ago. Radiant in particular drew her eyes, for she had been the Sun Princess’s previous prized pupil.
A glance at Cadenza, how her vivid colours were much like Radiant’s, with those same awestruck eyes, and Sunset’s thoughts darkened.
“She’s talented,” Cadenza said, breaking the erstwhile silence. “Auntie Celestia, I mean. They look like a happy family here.”
“Yeah, why’s that?” Sunset muttered. Her mother had drawn even gloomy Aunt Luna with airs of grace and tranquility, their immortalised smiles ethereal in their quality.
“Oh, I don’t know. I-it’s not much, just…” Cadenza replied, trailing off. She looked up at the painting, so blissfully unaware.
Sunset lit her horn, heart beating fast, thoughts racing with the spell she’d prepared. “Here, let me give you some light,” she said, feeling another twitch on her lips.
“Oh, thank you, that’s very kind of you,” said Cadenza, that accent of her all the more evident now, her gaze still fixed upon the painting. Idiot. All the better. “Goodness, it’s a bit silly but, looking at all the colours, I can almost feel the warmth between them, like she’s painted with more love than colour, like they’re here with us…” She reached up to rub the back of her head. “And I, well…”
Sunset had stopped listening. All she had to do now was finish the spell and strike Cadenza while her back was turned.
It was a simple spell, truly. The grown-ups had a fancier word for it, but children called it the tongue-twister. Not that this name did it justice. For many unicorn parents, the spell aided in the development of foals, allowing them to better understand languages in the most critical of times. Most unicorns knew little of what else it could do with some minor adjustments.
Sunset wasn’t like most unicorns. Where they were held back by their own marks, her shimmering sun opened the gates for so much more.
“It isn’t really about the painting, though,” Cadenza continued. “I confess that um, I– I’ve been wanting– wishing to have something that I’ve– I never could have.”
Sunset felt her eye twitch, her jaws clench tighter. Her eyes darted from the painting, then back at Cadenza, her wings held tightly against her body, her horn glowing with her own light blue aura. It shone only faintly against the brilliant, crackling amaranth.
‘You stuck-up, ungrateful little brat.’
No retort Sunset could muster would live up to the burning feeling she’d only just held back.
Perhaps there were risks. Her mother had always cautioned it, how emotions could often leak into and taint, even outright alter spells as they were cast. But Sunset didn’t care. Why should she, when she was so, so very close? Her horn shone brighter and brighter, illuminating the back of Cadenza’s head with amaranth so vibrant it seemed to crackle, framing her against the visage of the Two Sisters before her.
Just one spell, right here, and Cadenza’s wretched, pathetic weakness would be dragged out in the limelight.
Yes, that was it. Everyone would see it. Everyone would hear it, a rambling mess speaking in a language few would understand in a land full of strangers. An upstart exposed for the talentless, undeserving, imperfect wretch that she truly was–
“I just… I wish I knew my family.”
Sunset’s heart dropped like a stone.
“...Your family?”
“Yes– I’m sorry,” Cadenza said softly. “I don’t think I can call them my real family, not when Nonna and the rest of Florentina took me in, when I couldn’t even look out my bundle, you know? Sure, sure, whoever left me there said to take care of me, but… ”
She looked away from the painting, turning back to face her. Beneath Sunset’s light, Cadenza was smiling, but it was uncharacteristic to see her so forlorn.
“No one ever came to pick me up… I guess I’m fine where I am. But I still get curious.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Sorry. That was a lot, wasn’t it?”
The amaranth light dimmed, and Cadenza’s light shone in the darkened room.
“No,” said Sunset. What else could she say when her heart had sunk deep into a pit she thought she’d buried years past? “It’s fine. Just– why were you in Mom’s study…?”
“I got tired. I had to drag all of these around and, well, I guess I was really tired…” Cadenza pointed towards a stack of suitcases lining the wall.
“And how did you–”
Cadenza’s horn brightened. “I tried,” she said. “Goodness me, they’re heavier than I thought. Maybe it’s just me, though.” She chuckled. “What I’d do for a better room, huh?”
“But you could have just asked for help,” Sunset chided.
Cadenza let out an awkward little laugh. “I was going to!” she answered. “But I couldn’t find you anywhere, and I didn’t feel like bothering you after the, um… the garden…”
Cadenza bit her lips and looked away. Sunset’s heart sank further.
“Listen, Cadenza,” Sunset began, feeling the barest hints of a quiver in her tone. “I’m sorry. For yelling at you. And before. All of it.” She took a deep breath. “I wasn’t fair to you. It’s just th-that, before, it was just me and Mom… And Blueblood too, I guess. All of this is pretty new to me and I wasn’t sure what to think, and…”
She could just see her mother now: smiling kindly, her hug warm and all-encompassing like the Sun she raised every passing day. A mare who’d reached out to her and helped her climb out of the pit she’d lived her life in.
A mare who’d done the same for another, without hesitation.
“...I guess I’ve never had a sister before.”
And then Sunset felt it.
Guilt. Crushing, suffocating guilt. So terrible that she could find no words to continue, her breath caught in short, tiny gasps.
Then Cadenza smiled.
“It’s okay. I’ve never had one either,” said Cadenza. “I never meant to get between you and Auntie. All of this is new to me, too. And, I don’t know, I’m just– I try so hard not to, to–”
“–stumble?” Sunset finished, to which Cadenza nodded. “Look, you’ll be fine. You’ve seen Bluey, that colt does it all the time, and he’s doing fine.”
“Come on,” Cadenza said, yet she held back a giggle. “That’s a bit mean.”
“Bah, he’s used to it. You should see him at Hearthswarming. He’d trip over his own hooves trying to see what gifts Sint Erklass brought him.”
“Sint Erklass?” asked Cadenza, tilting her head.
“Big, jolly Reindeer,” Sunset said, thinking back to nights past, lonely nights at the orphanage, warmer nights at the Palace. “Mom calls him Grandfather. He comes over every Hearthswarming with gifts. He always seems to know. Kind of weird if you ask me, but if it makes Mom happy, then I guess it’s fine.”
“Oh! Like Aurora Befana?”
“Aurora Befana?”
“Mhm! Or Freccia Azzurra, if you’re from Northern Oleander. Every year, the grown-ups say she’d come over, trailing golden dust all over the skies with gifts for all the children. Every end of the year, we’d find presents in the village hall.”
“Hm, doesn’t ring a bell, but I guess Sint has a bunch of helpers,” Sunset summarised. “Learn a new thing every day…”
And to her wonder, Sunset felt it was true. This was a new thing she’d learned, one she wouldn’t have found in all her study books.
“Oh yes, yes, there’s so much to learn,” said Cadenza. “Aunt Celestia’s told me already about Hearthswarming, and– it’s strange, so much warmth in Winter’s coldest days. That it could thaw even a frozen heart…”
She trailed off there, eyes looking out towards the distance.
“Uh, Cadenza?”
“Aurora Befana didn’t come last Winter,” said Cadenza, gaze forlorn once more. “The grown-ups got… tired and sad. It’s a long story, but– what matters is that everyone back home is okay now. But I’m away, and I just get worried.”
Sunset moved closer to her, reaching out to give her a quick pat. Cadenza’s wings ruffled a little.
“Hey… Okay, I guess Mom’s better with this,” she said. “But you’re here now. It’s a jump, and you made it across. Or whatever, metaphors are tricky. Look, the point is, you wouldn’t be here if they weren’t, right?”
“I think so.”
“Good,” said Sunset. “We got off on the wrong hoof. Do you want to start over?”
“Maybe. But this is fine,” said Cadenza. “You don’t need to pretend or whatever. We can just– continue! That’s right. We could always just continue from here, si?”
‘Stars above,’ Sunset mused. ‘Her accent gets thicker by the hour.’
“Suit yourself.” She yawned. “Right. I could use a nap right about now.”
Cadenza glanced at the nearby clock. “Goodness, you’re right. I should too…”
Her horn shone brightly once more. But before she’d lifted her cases, Sunset’s aura had already wrapped around them.
“No, I’ll help,” Sunset said, firmly. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
“Oh, thank you,” Cadenza said. Yet her horn still remained lit. “Then allow me…”
The door swung open with a quick flash of light blue. Sunset looked at Cadenza, whose smile was bright and sweet, and above all earnest. She hesitated a moment, her mind briefly at war with itself. How should she respond now to this? Strangely, Sunset thought she felt just the slightest tug at the corner of her lips. It went no further than that. Perhaps it was too soon. But the luggage she held, for the first time in weeks, felt just as weightless as her heart.
Giving Cadenza a grateful nod, side by side, they walked out the open door.
* * * * *
“How many do you see down there?”
Sunset glanced back at Cadenza, eyebrows raised. Here they stood behind the curtain, currently hidden yet no less high above the masses that had gathered below the balcony, many of whom had been waiting there since the earliest hours of the day.
Cadenza, for her part, bit at her lips; the poor filly’s nervousness was all too apparent.
“A lot,” Sunset remarked, pulling her head back. “They tend to gather whenever Mom does… Well, anything.”
“I can tell,” Cadenza replied, shivering. “Do I look nice?”
“Cadenza, there’s like five, eight storeys between us and the crowd. They’re not going to notice if you haven’t slept for days.”
“Oh, I know, I just want to look my best.”
“Like you needed to try!” Blueblood chimed in cheerfully, popping in seemingly out of nowhere. “C’mon, Candy, you got this in the bag.”
“Yes, thank you for the support, Bluey,” said Sunset, rolling her eyes.
Astron’s father had shown up to attend the unveiling, and it was no coincidence the younger Blueblood seemed cheerful today. An airship was moored near the docks, for Azure Haven Blueblood had come in force to take them on a joyride once this affair was all wrapped up.
‘Or, he’s looking for a quick escape,’ Sunset thought, spying the Duke of Canterlot, who’d gartered himself in the Sky-Navy’s signature uniform, talking with her mother.
Sharply dressed, he looked for all the world an older Astron, down to the last few strands of his mane. Only the marks on their flanks were substantially different, with three golden crowns as opposed to his son’s compass rose.
“Alright, children,” Kibitz spoke up, poking his head in from the curtain. He’d been standing at the balcony for what must have been hours, Sunset mused. “The Princess has spoken to Oleander’s ambassador, we’ll be visiting their embassy after this.”
He checked his pocket-watch, shaking his head.
“We’re running late as is,” Kibitz remarked. “Now, off you go to your positions. We ought to have this done soon.”
Before anyone could reply, he disappeared, back to his position.
“Is everypony ready?”
Sunset turned her head. Her mother and Azure had arrived side-by-side. Philomena sat on her favourite perch – her mother’s hoof.
Blueblood was the first to answer, bouncing up and down. “Ready!”
“I think I am…” said Cadenza.
“Yeah, let’s just get this over with,” finished Sunset.
“Okay,” said her mother. She glanced at Azure, sharing a nod. She gave Philomena a quick nuzzle. “It’s showtime.”
The phoenix chirped in reply. She looked at Sunset, tilting her head.
“Go ahead,” said Sunset simply, measuredly. The phoenix obliged. She spread her beautiful wings, then flew right out the window.
A mighty screech drowned out the droning noises of the crowd. Sunset heard Kibitz clear his throat.
“By the power vested in me,” he spoke aloud, “I humbly welcome Her Majesty, Celestia, Princess of All Equestria, Stewardess of the Sun.”
Sunset and her mother shared one last glance, that serene smile melting what little doubt Sunset had left. Or stage-fright, anyway. Showing up before crowds was not exactly the same as the jury in an exam room, vast spaces or no.
The curtain lifted, and Princess Celestia stepped forth. She gave a wave to the adoring masses, who’d bowed the moment she emerged.
A moment passed. Kibitz cleared his throat. “His Royal Highness, Prince Azure Haven Blueblood, Duke of Canterlot, and his son, Prince Astron.”
Azure gave none of them, save for Cadenza, any acknowledging glances. He walked ahead, his son practically jumping at the opportunity to stand by him, preening at the crowd all the while.
“Miss Sunset Shimmer, Royal Apprentice to Princess Celestia,” Kibitz continued.
A round of applause followed. Sunset held her head up as she took a step forward, keeping her expression as calm as she could, even as her heart pounded and her desire to flee to the airship grew stronger.
“And at last,” said Kibitz amidst the dying applause, “it is my great honour to present Her Royal Highness, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.”
There were no cheers at first. Only a growing, buzzing murmur among the crowd, spreading throughout. Even this was quieted when Sunset and all others at the balcony stepped aside, allowing Cadenza to move forth with a steady look.
Then Cadenza spread her wings, and the crowd burst into a collective gasp. So loud did the crowd’s whispers grow that it was almost deafening, until her mother raised both of her own wings and silenced it with a single sentence.
“Citizens of Canterlot, people of Equestria,” said she in the Royal Canterlot Voice, while Cadenza retracted her wings against her body. Celestia kept her voice calm, yet there was palpable joy in it. “Long have these years passed us by, with loss and triumph both. May we mourn those who strove to build the Equestria we know and cherish.”
She glanced at Sunset, smiling wondrously.
“Now, my little ponies, rejoice. Here we all are, blessed with the finest minds and hearts to have ever graced our humble land. I am honoured to know that we have with us my finest student and beloved daughter, as well as a new Princess of our own…”
Sunset had already walked back into the shade the moment the cheering subsided, and her mother’s speech went on.
There was little reason for her to stay. Not even Wallflower could possibly have distinguished her in the shade, not when Cadenza stood there so brilliantly, so vibrantly.
Before she could withdraw, she caught sight of Cadenza’s glance. What else could she do then, if not give a nod and a thin smile, answered by Cadenza’s shy grin of her own. When the other filly looked away, Sunset glanced up at the cloudless skies above, feeling the tension within begin to unwind.
For Sunset held it close to her heart that, one day, she’d stand where Cadance stood, with a pair of magnificent wings to call her own.
* * * * *
The rest of the day went by in a haze for Mi Amore Cadenza. All she could recall was that they’d gone on an airship tour ’round the city, gave a few statements to the gathered press once they had landed, and exchanged polite words with the Prime Minister and a select few members of Parliament. Whether it was in that order or not, Cadenza couldn’t tell. She remembered Prince Azure hurrying off immediately after to meet with the Guard, then a goodbye each with Aunt Celestia, Blueblood, and Sunset, in that order.
She was tired. So tired, in fact, that if it weren’t for Kibitz, she might have gotten herself lost in the Palace. Not even a quick rinse at the nearest washroom could defeat her growing weariness.
“And… here we are,” said Kibitz, sounding a little unsure as he pushed the door open. “If you need anything, I suppose you could… call or, hm, it’s an awfully long walk.”
“It is, isn’t it?” said Cadenza, smiling despite her fatigue, suppressing a yawn. “I’ll get used to it, I guess…”
Kibitz gave a stiff nod. “Are you sure you wish to stay? You could always move back.”
“Oh no, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Cadenza replied. “I’ll be fine here.”
“Very well,” said Kibitz. “Good night, Your Highness.”
“Good night, Mister Kibitz.”
The door swung shut. Cadenza released a sigh. With each step heavier than the last, she walked right over to her single-pony bed, taking care to take off her shoes. It was a far cry from the large poster-bed she’d been presented with before, the room’s wardrobe simple and the candle dimmer than the chandeliers she was becoming accustomed to.
But when Cadenza caught sight of it – a spare room at the Palace staff quarters – she knew where she would belong.
Though the wooden boards creaked with each of her steps, the old wood reminded her well of Nonna Espina’s cottage. The desk was not much larger than her bed in Florentina. And, above all, she could see the Palace Gardens just outside her window, within reach of her personal door.
It was small, old, and perhaps a little dingy. But it was home, or as close as it could be.
With the fresh scent of grass and fragrant flowers faint in the air, Cadenza blew out the candle and flopped onto the bed.
* * * * *
The Palace Gardens had never looked so beautiful, but Cadenza knew it was a lie. She was fast asleep, this was certain, and no image she could conjure could have possibly lived up to what she saw past the window and out her room.
Captivated as she was by the endless vista that welcomed her again, Cadenza pushed open the door, leaving behind her newfound room, and went on her way, past rolling green hills and fields of flowers and trees that reached further than the tallest buildings in all the land beneath the stars.
On and on and on Cadenza went, leaving a trail of golden dust. Whispers all around welcomed her, the hopes and dreams of a hundred million souls in the infinite expanse. Some familiar, others strange. Was that Sunset she saw, with Blueblood by her side, atop a mighty airship conquering the stars? Cadenza couldn’t be sure, so she gave a little wave, one returned in kind twofold, and ventured on.
Tempting as it all was, none of it ensnared her. Not even a door marked by the Sun, the laughter of children like a melodious chorus sounding from within. What power did dreams have to one that walked amongst them? Cadenza continued in her trek, parting mountains and oceans and the very skies.
She stopped only when she reached a garden at last, descending from the clouds. But this was not the Palace Gardens, nor was it the garden she’d first dreamt of in lonely nights during her journey to Canterlot.
Giant fungi that glowed in the moonlight dominated the landscape, mingling with luminescent flowers larger than any flower could ever be. A waterfall parted the mountains, its stream leading to an island surrounded by water that shimmered blue under the light of the Moon.
It was a tiny island, one that could only fit one pony. It rose high above the waters of this cove, its surface covered in grass. There was little else, Cadenza saw, even as she arrived there and looked around. Her heart ached and twisted upon a closer look.
Dead, dying, dried and cracked flowers. From chrysanthemum to snowdrops to lotuses, even the mighty sunflower that must have once stood tall. All crushed and trampled underhoof, though Cadenza did her best to avoid them.
Only a single lavender bulb grew tall, though lonely and forlorn in Cadenza’s eyes, for lavender was not meant to stand alone.
Then, Cadenza looked at the Moon, and let out a short gasp.
* * * * *
Cadenza stood in a garden. Down the winding path she must have gone, stepping upon cracked, mossy stone slabs. Looking back, there’d been an overgrown hedge and hanging vines.
A rightful pity struck her heart when she looked around her. It was very old indeed, she was certain of it. Perhaps Mister Greenhooves had taken care of it. But only just.
Vines climbed the trees, unruly and untamed. Weeds grew wild and unchecked, strangling the undergrowth. A great stone table left alone at the corner was cracked, its seats overturned or on their sides.
Even here, the scent of flowers was faint in the night-time air, most of all the soothing scent of lavender.
High above, Cadenza’s gaze fell upon the Mare in the Moon, forever imprinted, watching over Equestria below. Yet now, for the first time, she found her frozen gaze a lonely one.
She remembered then what Aunt Celestia had told her when they had first met in the Plane of Images, the realm she’d found herself in after the enchantress Prismia took off the amulet she wore and lifted the spell cast over Florentina.
‘I will come for you. This will begin to make things right.’
* * * * *
End of Act One
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And so we meet one more important figure in our little tale, one whose dialogue feels strangely... familiar... (spoiler for chapter)
cdn-img.fimfiction.net/story/wyuk-1617502459-490655-full
An excellent end to Act I that uses its connections to another Sledge tale both to build and then subvert expectations. Well done.
Luna, what are you playing at...?
I was about to groan from second hand embarrassment when I saw what Sunset was about to do, but I'm glad that ended up not happening. The use of parallel character context between her and Cadenza was an especially wonderful touch.
And a lovely dedication, too. Ninja was also someone who got me into your work initially. It's fitting that should be the case, that this chapter should be dedicated to him and his review, and that in this chapter I sensed a lot of connections to your previous work that I have read. Not to wax poetic, but there's something appropriate in such a pattern of coincidences - a holiness of shared experiences, I think.
And I might be mistaken, but the lavender scent... For some reason I drew a connection to your G5 story, but I don't remember if it featured at all in there?
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I also loved itty-bitty Blush.
This is some great stuff! The presentation of Sunset as Celestia's adopted daughter, her reactions to Cadance, and Cadance herself as an inexperienced foreign pony are all really interesting, and you're great at setting the mood.
Finally got around to reading it—haven't been in the mood for reading much lately.
I can feel the pieces gathering together. The revelation of Cadenza being an orphan to Sunset was expertly timed. Excited to see more.
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Whatever Luna does best. Being mysterious
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It is, without a doubt, the crucial moment for the entire Act. We all know that Sunset's greatest virtue is empathy, yet I don't think it's something she developed later in life.
She may be prickly, but deep down Sunset Shimmer has always had a good heart. I refuse to believe that she was in any way a bully before she went through the mirror, Celestia wouldn't have let that fly and wouldn't have kept her as her student for so long.
As for the lavender, well, I do like recurring motifs of love-scents.
And last of all, here's to Ninja. May he rest in peace, always.
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That was a good story goodluck with the rest of it.
This was a great first act and i enjoyed reading it. I like that Celestia adopted Sunset and its nice to see Sunset and Cadance having this kinship as they realise they were both orphans.
I look forward to reading more.