A Second Chance

It surprised Sunset just how similar Hearthswarming and Christmas were. The two holidays happen to coincide with one another, generally sharing similar traditions. Both happened during the winter and involved many bright decorations, including trees dragged indoors. Celestia would have a tree the size of a small house somewhere on the palace grounds the years Sunset was her student, and that likely hadn’t changed.

Get-togethers and parties were also frequent occurrences, imposing on one person’s home or another or finding somewhere else. Sunset had been instead looking forward to spending time with her friends, sleeping over at Twilight’s or Applejacks and waking up to hot chocolate or warm, spiced coffee.

Instead, she was imposing on the other Twilight, trotting around on all fours while chatting up her friends’ counterparts a literal world away.

She’d travelled to Equestria, with Twilight’s permission, and wanted to stay over the holiday period while she had the time of school. Twilight, of course, was more than happy to host Sunset. It was a little eerie that she had an entire room ready for her when she arrived in Twilight’s castle, but once Sunset explored the place a little, she realised there were bedrooms enough for a dozen ponies, not just her.

That was how she found herself at an early Hearthswarming party, with Twilight running around to keep things running smoothly and Pinkie trailing behind her, doing what every Pinkie in the multiverse did best.

Though it was early evening, Sunset was on her second mug of mulled cider. It was better than the stolen six-packs she’d warmed her belly with in the years before, both being tastier and filled with the little touch that food on Earth just seemed to lack. It might have been a little too early to drink as much as she was, but no one had batted an eye at her, refilling her mug not even a quarter-hour before the party started.

Rainbow Dash had taken it as a cue to get her fill, too, hovering around the pot above the crystals that kept it warm. It was located on one of a variety of tables set up in a parlour room—a room with space enough for all of Twilight’s friends and twice as many more guests. It was considerably more ostentatious than Sunset expected of Twilight.

“Hey, Sunset.” Rainbow Dash looked at the unicorn with that lopsided, cocksure smirk before filling her mug close to the brim. Seeing it on a different face was strange, though some of the features were somehow the same. The angular features of a young, athletic woman are hidden under the baby fat of youth. The fact this Dash was a pony probably explained why she looked a little more squat and round than her friend back home.

“Hey, Dash.” Sunset leaned against the table, holding her mug in a curled leg. It wasn’t as complete as Dash’s, not by a long shot. She wasn’t aiming to get sloshed soon, and there was value in having an excuse to fill her drink when conversations turned dry. “How’s it hanging?”

“Pretty good, if I don’t say so myself.” She chuckled. “It’s good to meet you properly and not in the middle of an emergency or some scheme or something.”

Sunset bit her cheek and laughed in return. “Yeah. I hadn’t had a chance to really explore Ponyville before. It’s always just been a dot on the map. It feels sorta right to actually be here after all this time.”

“Pchyeah.” Rainbow took a long gulp of her cider. “Last time you came through, you had a literal boatload of people, didn’t you?”

Sunset nodded. It was a decent while ago, and so much more had happened since, both mundane and magical. “Yeah. My mind was jointly focused on getting everyone back through the mirror to safety. I didn’t have time to go shopping or count how many thatched roofs there were.”

“Eh, there’s not much to see.” Shrugging, Dash seemed to ponder her drink for a moment.

Sunset had grown accustomed to that pause. Everyone she’d talked to in Equestria who knew about Earth had that pause at one point or another. Like Twilight’s other friends, Dash was getting over the awkwardness of bringing up the topic of her other self.

Sunset could have answered then, but she was content to let her squirm. She wasn’t in a hurry to talk about her new home, even if it was constantly on her mind.

“So,” Dash started. “How is she doing? The other me?”

Okay, maybe Dash got over that awkwardness quicker than most. Typical.

“She’s doing okay.” Sunset sipped her cider.

“Just okay? Not amazing, or awesome, or fantastic?” Dash blew a raspberry. “C’mon, give me a little more than that. Spill some deets and gossip a little.” She added a little punch to Sunset’s arm.

Yeah, no. It’s not the topic Sunset wanted to really go over right then.

Twilight appeared before them as she opened her mouth to tell Rainbow Dash to change topics. Without the telltale twinkle of a teleportation spell, it was clear she was getting the hang of Pinkie’s brand of party hosting. Beside her, held aloft in a magic aura, was a tray of little cheese cubes on cocktail sticks.

Sunset nabbed one before Twilight even opened her mouth.

“Hey, you two! Are we getting along?” While Twilight beamed at them both, Sunset noticed the little nervous twitch in one of her front legs, making her right side bob a little.

“Heck yeah, we are.” Rainbow Dash gave Sunset another playful shove. “I was just asking her about the other me back on Equestria. I bet she ain’t as fast as me.”

Sunset snorted at that. She’d seen what her friend back home could do, hiding her phone before teachers could confiscate it, planting thumbtacks without anyone noticing. “I dunno. She’s catching up, I’d say.”

Another raspberry from Rainbow Dash’s mouth. “Yeah, naw. No way a high schooler can outdo a Wonderbolt. What’s she even up to? Playin’ tag?”

Twilight’s tick sped up, and she glanced between them. “Rainbow, I’m not sure you should be talking like that about—“

“It’s fine.” Sunset shoved the little cheesecube in her mouth and talked around it. “For what it’s worth, she’s currently working her way into getting a sports scholarship. She’s thinking about going into engineering. That’s considerably different to your past work, right?”

“Mare, other me sounds lame. I bet I could whoop her butt.”

Flicking the cocktail stick aside, Sunset leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at Rainbow Dash. “I’d love to watch her hand your butt back to you.”

Despite her grin, Rainbow Dash’s expression seemed considerably more severe than it did a minute ago. She held Sunset’s glare, a steady, blazing discontent deep inside those big, ruby eyes.

The tray broke past them both, and Twilight laughed uneasily. “Hey, why don’t you two have a few more nibbles?”

After a few more moments of staring, Sunset took another to pieces for herself. “Sure. Thank you.”

The remainder of Twilight’s presence seemed to cow Rainbow Dash somewhat, and she took a step back. “Not for me. Got any more of Pinkie’s cupcakes?”

“I think so. She made plenty…” She turned her head around, looking across the tables, though she froze up and perked her ears at some unheard noise.

For Sunset, it was easy to sense. A little magical harmony played through the air, buzzing through her horn. It had sounded a few times that night, and Twilight had disappeared off into the castle to fetch a new set of guests from the front door each time.

“Oh, the last guests are arriving.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll be back shortly. Behave, you two.”

Twilight, the tray, and all the cheese cubes except the two she held vanished from sight, once more opening the space between Sunset and Rainbow Dash. Rather than continuing to square up to one another, Rainbow Dash seemed content to back off, giving Sunset a quick little wave of her wing. “I’m gonna find Flutters.”

That left Sunset on her own, a strange feeling of awkwardness niggling at the back of her brain. She sighed with her whole body, turned away to the opposite side of the room, and made a slow shuffle to one of the other groups chatting or sharing platters of food. Spotting Rarity among them, Sunset adjusted her course to approach her. She could be grating in her own way, but Rarity’s sass was more tolerable and insightful.

Sunset didn’t know an awful lot about Rarity’s life in Equestria. What she knew painted a map that her friend would likely follow, assuming some other passion didn’t take her once while she attended college.

She’d already started applying. Just as Rainbow Dash had. Just as Twilight and the others were, too. Each of them had such clear plans for their futures, routes all drawn out for what they wanted to do.

Each of their Equestrian counterparts was well into their own lives, each with their own successes. Sunset knew what it meant to be a Wonderbolt, and she had to admit running a trio of businesses was a darn impressive thing.

Everyone had their castle or had plans and means to make their own.

Hoofsteps and delighted conversation made their way down the hall through the open doors to the parlour. Sunset had wondered what other guests could possibly make it. Among those in the room were obviously the rest of Twilight’s friends and some of their family members. She was a little disappointed that Celestia and Luna couldn’t make it, but given she still had a week and change before she needed to head home—

Sunset didn’t want to think of home. She focused on the conversation, Twilight’s voice among them. She vaguely recognised the bassy fry and melodic lilt that accompanied Twilight, but Sunset couldn’t place from where.

When Sunset put the cooling mug to her lips, she half-choked on its contents.

Twilight came around the corner first, though her focus lay on the guests accompanying her. A stallion stood a little behind her with a messy blue mane and a filly riding on his back.

The mare that walked in beside them brought a wave of memories to Sunset’s mind, washing over her: recollections of glue and glitter, days spent reading, arguing, and even the faint smell of floral perfume that stung Sunset’s eyes.

They made eye contact, and recognition lit up the mare’s lavender eyes.

“Cadance?”

Sunset realised the name spilt out of her mouth without her trying. There she was, a mare from her childhood, standing in the doorway. One of the very last ponies she ever expected to cross paths with again. Cadance hardly looked different, adulthood fitting her like a well-tailored dress. The only fundamental standout feature was the horn atop her head.

“Sunset?” After pausing in the doorway, Cadance slowly made her way over to Sunset with the rest of her party behind her. She stopped a few feet away, a small smile on her lips. “It’s good to see you.”

Sunset’s smile came naturally from a mixture of nervousness and amusement. She had no idea what to say, no snide remarks or quips, and small talk was just as flighty.

After a few moments of frankly awkward staring, Twilight leaned into Sunset’s periphery.

“I didn’t know you knew each other,” she said, eyebrows raised.

“She used to be my babysitter,” Sunset answered. “Back before I ran away. Obviously.”

“Huh.” Twilight looked between the two of them, her brow knitting together. “I’m curious how I never heard a peep about you before we met.”

“It was before I even met your brother.” With a giggle, Cadance gave the stallion behind her a quick smile. “I didn’t just get to be your babysitter through my charms alone. I came with some recommendations from Celestia and a few other families.”

After a few moments’ thought, that seemed enough for Twilight, and her expression smoothed out. “Good to know. It’s kinda funny that we all know each other.” With a chuckle, she turned to the stallion and enveloped the little filly on his back in her magic. “I’ll take care of Flurry for a bit, give you two some time to catch up. I’ve been hankering for a little niece time anyway.”

With that, Twilight made her way off, leaving Sunset with Cadance and the stallion.

“So, Sunset,” Cadance started, filling the awkward silence that had descended upon them. “This is Shining Armor, my husband and Twilight’s brother.” She tipped her head the stallion’s way. Recognition dawned on Sunset, finally putting a name to the face of a young lieutenant she’d only occasionally crossed paths with before she left Equestria.

“Real small world,” he said. “I figured I wouldn’t see you again, either.”

Cadance leaned back and turned fully to her husband. “You know her too?”

With a snort, Shining Armor waved a hoof. “Nah, not like you or Twilight. We only crossed paths a couple times when I was still fresh in the guard. Didn’t even know her name back then.” He then squinted his eyes and leaned toward Sunset. “I was a little surprised by the report of a mare matching your description showing up shortly before Twily got her wings, though.”

Sunset laughed sheepishly, tucking her head down. “Yeah… It’s kind of a long story. I suppose she’s talked about me a bunch.”

His glare cut deep into Sunset. A little over a year ago, she’d have told any stallion like him to get lost, but with several lessons in humility under her belt since, all it did was remind her of how she feared Celestia may have reacted to her return.

Shining then laughed and smiled, giving Sunset’s shoulder a little shunt right where Rainbow had bumped her. She winced, the beginnings of a bruise growing underneath the skin.

“She’s mentioned you a couple times,” he finally answered. “Not said a lot, but she’s mentioned how she feels proud of ya. That makes you good in my books.”

With a loud cluck of her tongue, Cadance gently smacked Shining in the chest, earning a winded “Oof!” in the process.

“Don’t mess with her, you dork,” she said. Her admonishment was softened by her smile and soft laugh. “Go bug Spike and that. Catch up with them.”

Shining Armor stiffened up quite suddenly, his expression ironed into a uniform expression that Sunset recognised from every Royal Guard’s face. He snapped a quick salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Cadance put her face in her hoof while shaking her head as Shining gave her a little bump with his flank, then wandered off. A quick glance in his direction confirmed the presence of at least one small purple dragon and a big red stallion.

“Sorry about him. He’s kind of turned into a big child since we had Flurry.” Cadance sighed and straightened up again, standing over Sunset. “It does at least mean he more than pulls his weight taking care of her.”

“It’s fine,” Sunset said with a dismissive wave. “I, uh, hadn’t expected you to be married so soon in life. Weren’t you in middle school when you were babysitting me?”

“Yeah, though high school sweethearts have a tendency to stick to you. We haven’t actually been married all that long, though. How have you been doing, little Miss Shimmer?”

“Things are fine, I guess.” A sigh filled Sunset’s lungs, forcing something of a shrug.

“You’re still in school, right? Something about time passing differently over on Earth.” Cadance hummed, her lips thinning out in contemplation. There was definitely a little Celestia in there, as though she might be thinking up a lesson or biting back admonishment. “Are the years longer or something?”

“No. It’s more like the passage of time is uncoupled, at least until recently.” Sunset’s attention slowly rose to Cadance’s horn. She bet Cadance also had a literal castle. She clearly had a figurative one already. “It explains how you’re so much older and more accomplished. Last time we met, you didn’t have a horn.”

Cadance blinked a few times, staring at Sunset before following her eyes to her forehead. It was likely Cadance couldn’t see her horn. Few unicorns could. “Oh, this?” she asked. “I barely even think about it anymore. It was so long ago that I…” Cadance trailed off as her gaze flicked back to Sunset. “A lot happened during puberty for me, let’s put it that way. It’s nothing special to me nowadays.”

The casual dismissal irked Sunset, and she felt annoyance pull at her features. She hoped that the microsecond her frown showed went unnoticed.

“Nothing special?” Sunset let out a sharp laugh. “You were the first new alicorn to appear in over a thousand years. I’d say that’s pretty darn special.”

Something twigged in Cadance’s face, her smile falling by the tiniest degree. If Sunset hadn’t been watching for something like that, she may have never noticed the change in Cadance’s mood.

Mentally, Sunset kicked herself. After so many years apart, that wasn’t how she wanted to renew a relationship. Cadance deserved so much better than a continuation of the rotten child she used to take care of.

The princess cleared her throat before her and gestured with her head to the table Sunset had walked away from. “Is that mulled cider I smell?”

Sunset glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah. Apparently made from homegrown apples here in Ponyville.”

Cadance nodded, then slowly pushed past Sunset. “I’ve had a few glasses of their hard cider on occasion. Celestia tends to order a crate or two for the castle over the past few years.”

Before Cadance reached the table, Sunset trotted past her, grabbing one of the mugs and the ladle in her magic. “Let me get that for you,” she said, filling a mug halfway. She was sure the drink hadn’t got any cooler, but the spiced perfume of warm alcohol seemed to lack something on that pour.

Cadance let out a little tut, but she graciously accepted the drink once Sunset offered the mug to her. “Thank you.”

Sunset hummed in response, then took the opportunity to fill her mug a little further. “It’s nice to get a sip of this stuff here. Earth has some stricter laws about kids getting alcohol.”

“Really?” Cadance took a swig of her drink, then seemed to visibly settle down, her head tilting back and shoulders lowering. It was as if the cider she sipped made her weigh twice as much. Less so in the way, a great weight might stress the floor it lays on, tension pulling at supports, and more in how a great, heavy vehicle came to rest as its engine wound down. “I suppose an exception can be made for you today.”

With a quiet chuckle, Sunset shook her head. “I never said I haven’t had a drink or two, just that it’s harder. ‘Sides, I’m of drinking age this side of the mirror.”

“Figures there’s still a little of the old you in there, pushing against the rules.” Cadance laughed, but Sunset couldn’t identify the joke. “What’s life like on the other side? Twilight has explained it to us in writing, but she can only convey so much in a few letters. She learned the hard way that sending out multi-page essays to friends and families doesn’t make the best gifts.”

“I probably can’t summarise it better than she can,” Sunset said.

“I’d still like to hear it.”

It wasn’t fair to try to size Cadance up and figure out her game. Something itched in Sunset, something unresolved between the two, but she wasn’t sure Cadance felt the same thing.

She may as well treat the conversation as genuine, indulge the mare for the time being, and hope for the best.

“It’s… strange. Lots of similarities but also lots of differences. Every day, I find something new to fascinate me about being there, even after all these years. New languages, new people, new science. It’s all so… Weird.” Hearing the laughter from a nearby conversation, Sunset gestured to Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, and Twilight, who still held Flurry Heart with one leg. “Weirdest thing is everyone’s got a counterpart over there. Another them with similar personalities and ambitions.”

She looked at Cadance, who regarded her with an oddly neutral expression, as she finished. Level brows, eyes focused on Sunset, and a small smile pulling her lips up. “Colour me curious! Who have you met over there?”

“Uh, well…” Sunset turned around the room, then made a vague, sweeping gesture with a hoof. “Everyone, kind of. Mostly Twilight and her friends, though they’re all younger, closer to my age. Probably the weirdest counterparts are Celestia and Luna, being the principles of my school.” Sunset paused for a moment, putting her hoof down. “There’s also a version of you over there, now that I think about it. Never spoke to her, just saw her a few times.”

Seeing Cadance before her, listening patiently and curiously made Sunset feel more and more like she was put on the spot. Restless anxiety flooded her like she was presenting before a teacher. The connection Sunset just made didn’t help her push the feeling away.

Eventually, Cadance realised Sunset had finished up. “That kind of makes sense,” she eventually said. “I kind of wanted to be a teacher when I was younger. Back when I babysat for you, actually.”

Sunset grimaced. “Bet I changed your mind pretty quickly.”

“Not at all.” Cadance chuckled and shook her head. “You actually made me realise I wanted to try even harder. What actually stopped me was Auntie Tia’s insistence I follow my family legacy.” A hoof gently bumped Sunset’s shoulder. She really was going to bruise. “You can confidently say you were raised by the rulers of two nations.”

Cadance may have meant it to come across as a humble brag on the surface, but the gremlin in the back of Sunset’s mind saw Cadance’s statement as more than that. It affirmed Sunset’s worry that she was being played with and that Cadance was working to prove Sunset had been a minor nuisance as a filly, a friggen footnote in a history lesson.

“Oh, so you’ve got a castle too.” Sunset hadn’t hidden the bitterness in her voice or the frown spreading across her face. She tipped the mug back, finishing the contents in three big, painful gulps.

“Yes?” Cadance blinked. “Wait, Sunset, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Well, good job, you did.” After tipping the empty mug upside down, confirming that a few drops fell to the hard, crystal floor, Sunset set it on the table with a thunk. She fixed Cadance with a stern glare, fully expecting some sort of sheepish smile on the mare’s lips, a smirk confirming that she’d done exactly as she intended.

What she saw instead was simply… Sadness. Pity.

That made Sunset feel worse.

A quick glance around confirmed her outburst had caught the attention of a few of the other guests. Most of them looked confused, but Twilight’s stare was the worst. She didn’t have the raised eyebrows or vexed tilt most of her friends had, no. She had the raised eyebrows and flickering eyes of a mare in thought, putting the pieces together over what must have happened.

Given Sunset’s history and Cadance’s relationship with Twilight, it was clear who she’d side with if things carried on into an argument.

“I’m sorry,” Sunset said. “That was uncalled for.” She then marched to the parlour door, quickly hurrying out and down the corridor.

Stupid. That’s what Sunset was. She was being stupid, putting her hoof in her mouth because she was self-conscious. Yet another reminder of her sordid, rotten past came up to greet her while she was unprepared, and she’d reacted the same way she would have years ago. She lashed out, even if it wasn’t with the same level of violence and vindictiveness.

All of Sunset’s focus fell on her hoofsteps, putting one leg in front of the other. She focused entirely on the floor beneath her, the glossy blue crystal reflecting a hint of her face back up at her. A scowling, irritated girl, still too immature.

It took Sunset a short before she separated the hoofsteps coming from behind her, echoing down the hall in asynchronous syncopation. They were softer, trying to lag behind, but she heard them all the same.

Not knowing who she’d face when she turned around, Sunset raised her head. The corridor curved to the left ahead of her, a great, circular hall lined with doors and glowing alcoves on either side.

She stopped, and so did the pony trailing her.

The pony behind her could only be one of two possible options. Banking on one, Sunset broke the silence. “I’m sorry for storming out.” The apology felt bitter, echoing down the hall and leaving a sour aftertaste in Sunset’s mouth. It was a poor way to ask for forgiveness, but it needed to be said.

Hoofsteps closed in behind Sunset, and then a long, well-curled mane swayed into her peripheral vision. Not quite the pony she intended the apology for.

“Your apology isn’t needed, but it is appreciated.” Cadance’s voice didn’t carry down the hall, meeting Sunset’s ears only once, purely intended for her. Soft and gentle and delicate.

“Well, sorry all the same.” Sunset shut her eyes. “That… That wasn’t fair of me back there.”

A hoof brushed one of Sunset’s front legs. She twitched at the touch, muscles wanting to drag her hoof away, removing it from the situation. Like with her march down the hall, though, pulling it away entirely would be futile.

“No, but you’re not acting like you truly meant anything by it, either.” Cadance gave Sunset’s leg a little push from behind. “Though it’s clear that I’m sort of the cause. Would you like to talk about that?”

Sunset snorted, turning back to Cadance. “Want me to just storm away again?”

Cadance kept her head a little lower. Rather than looking down at Sunset, she retained eye contact. It looked awkward and uncomfortable for the alicorn to hold the posture, but she smiled. The gremlin from before wanted to say it was mocking, but Sunset also figured it might be earnest, gentle, and kind.

“No,” Cadance answered. “I don’t think you want to either. Here, come on.” Cadance gave Sunset a little push with a front leg while one of her wings wrapped around Sunset’s flank, urging her forward.

“What are you…?”

“If we’re going to talk, it’ll be best done somewhere comfortable.” Cadance’s laugh could only be described as fluffy. “Castles are every filly’s dream, but no one tells you they can be cold and uncomfy.”

Sunset let Cadence lead her on, though they only travelled a few doors down the corridor before entering into a side room. While enclosed, a mirror hanging from the right wall made it seem bigger than it was. The only other furniture within were a pair of couches and a table.

After giving Sunset another shove into the room, Cadance followed and shut the door behind them with a click. Sunset sighed and turned around once she stood by the table, waiting for Cadance to speak again.

“Sit,” she said, and Sunset sat.

“Beginning to think you still have a little principle in you.”

Cadance tottered her head from side to side, pursing her lips and rousing her wings a little in admission. “Sometimes lectures and frank discussions feel similar. Though I want to assure you, this is the latter.” Cadance made her way opposite Sunset, sitting on the far sofa. After a moment more spent watching Sunset, she followed and planted her butt onto the lavender cushions.

“Let’s start again,” Cadance said. “Pretend everything before didn’t happen. No snide remarks, no upsetting thoughts, just a babysitter and a kid she used to take care of catching up after a few years.” Cadance lifted a hoof, gesturing to Sunset. “It is good to see you after all these years, Sunset. How have you been?”

Make believe. Okay, there was another game afoot, though this one was real. Hopefully, though, the gremlin in Sunset’s brain was entirely wrong.

Sunset opened her mouth, intending to dismiss the question with a bland, ‘I’m fine,’ but then decided against it. “Things could be better,” she said eventually.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She put her hoof back onto the seat, then leaned a little to the side, putting a little weight on the armrest nearest her. “Is something at school bothering you? Friends?” Chuckling, Cadance shrugged. “I know some people think teenage problems are vapid, that you’ll get over it, but it’s very real to you now.”

Sunset raised an eyebrow. The whole setup seemed off, a little forced, but at the same time, Cadance sounded utterly genuine. She looked relaxed, totally at ease where she sat like she’d gone through the motions a million times.

Maybe she had.

Sunset decided to be truthful. “A little of column A, a little of column B. C and D, too.”

Cadance sat silently, watching Sunset expectantly.

Okay. Maybe she wanted more.

“I guess…” Looking down, Sunset started circling her hoof on the cushion underneath her, tracing a circle that sprung back up in the wake of her touch. “I guess I’ve been dealing with a bunch of issues that feed into each other. I’m struggling with my grades, though it’s not serious. Friends and I had an argument, which is why I’m here.” She then looked back up at Cadance. “Figured coming here would be a break. What is there to bother me? Twilight used to judge me but doesn’t anymore, and I can try and make some new friends in the short term.”

Cadance nodded along for the most part. Small motions, indicating she was paying attention. “I’m guessing things haven’t gone as you expected to.”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Another short laugh. “They’re all busy, and just the right balance of same and different that it bugs me. Particularly how… well off they are. Everyone is a national hero and has a successful job. I wanted to spend more time with Twilight, but her duties as a princess have kept her way too busy, so half the time, I’m just wandering her giant trophy.”

The wince on Cadance’s face forced Sunset to take a deep breath.

“Of course, everyone’s asking about my friends back home. Like, Earth home. Feels weird to consider that where I come from now.” Sunset shut her eyes and breathed in, deep and long.

“Are they doing well?”

“Better than me. They all had plans to go to college, picked out majors and thought about scholarships. I haven’t even got a clue if I want to do any of that.”

“I see.” Cadance hummed. “I was wrong. I compared you to your old self, but you’re different in that you’re not scheming anymore. No more plans.”

Sunset snorted as she whipped her head back up, staring Cadance down. “Yeah, sure. Me not making plans to be mean to you means I won’t be.” She then dipped her head again. “Sorry.”

“Not needed, but appreciated.” Sunset watched Cadance stand up in her periphery, walking around the far side of the coffee table toward Sunset. “Though I feel I should apologise if I’ve dragged up any feelings that upset you.”

Cadance stopped beside Sunset, looking down at her once more. Towering over her, an adult over a child, it felt condescending. Yet at the same time, Sunset appreciated the apology, even if she wasn’t entirely convinced what she did wrong.

At the very least, it wasn’t actually her fault.

“Thanks.” With a heavy sigh, a deep filling of her lungs until they ached, Sunset shuffled along the couch. Cadance filled the space, climbing on beside Sunset. “I think I just got a little snappy. I’ve wronged a lot of people. I’ve apologised and asked for forgiveness. I’ve received it, mostly, and lived with the few times I haven’t received it.”

Cadance leaned in, wrapping a wing over Sunset’s flank again. “I’m guessing I’m the last on your list.”

Sunset waggled a hoof in front of her. “Eh. There’s a few cops and store clerks that probably deserve an apology, but that’s more effort than it’s worth.”

She felt as much as she heard Cadance’s laugh buzzing through their bodies as she settled in close. “I can understand that. You seem remorseful all the same, and that’s what matters.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Sunset felt good messing with Equestria’s Rainbow Dash, putting her actual friend up on a pedestal and trying to shove her counterpart down. “I guess,” she said after a few moments.

Shifting her weight, Cadance tucked her fetlock under Sunset’s chin, lifting it up. That wasn’t the first time they’d sat like that. A long time ago, a different pair of ponies in an arguably different world had also shared a moment like that. Sunset hadn’t felt remorse then, plotting how to mess with her babysitter as she read a storybook aloud.

“You know what I see?” Cadance asked.

Sunset sat silent, letting that hang as the answer.

“I see somepony struggling to come to terms with the fact she can’t just turn her life around on a whim. You have a lot of inertia to fight against, and if Twilight’s treating you as a close friend, I’d say you’re doing a fantastic job.”

Peeling her hoof away, Cadance tapped the side of her horn, a horseshoe tinking off the hardened thing. “This took a long time to adjust to. I fought against it for a while despite the strong epiphany that allowed it to grow. It never fit that middle schooler’s life plans, and it felt like a lot of responsibility. It took me a while to eventually come around.”

Sunset settled herself down, lowering herself in Cadance’s embrace. “Sounds like you had success just dropped on you, then. Lucky.”

“Not so much. I didn’t have Shining in my life then, and Auntie Tia was still figuring out what to do with me once I ascended. I tried adjusting my plans after a while, and so did Celestia. It all eventually fell into place, though.”

“And?” Sunset scoffed. “I’m not sure where this is going?”

Cadance huffed. She was annoyed with the response, but after a moment, she rolled her eyes and smirked again. “What are your plans when you head back to Earth?”

The question caught Sunset off guard. She hadn’t thought about it, even though her stay in Equestria was to be a temporary thing. She didn’t want to and put it off.

But she had an answer. It came quickly to her.

“Apologise to my friends,” Sunset said. “Do what I can to make things right. Keep studying, learning, doing what I do best.”

“Just without a clear plan for now, right?”

“Yeah…”

Cadance squeezed Sunset, a gentle, caring embrace, and markedly different from every hug and cuddle she’d received from her friends.

She’d received something like that from Celestia in recent memory. Loving, affectionate reassurance from someone older and wiser.

“It’s good to have a plan. Take in all your options and figure out what to do with them. It’s also perfectly fine to just go with the flow until you figure things out. Sometimes, you get dealt a hand that leaves you struggling, but those around you have something better, letting them get ahead.

“But you’re not competing with them, Sunset. Not with your friends, or with Twilight, or with me.” She looked up toward the ceiling. Without a clear light source, it felt like the entire room glowed a soft, bright blue. “Maybe that means you don’t get a literal castle, but you’ll have something to be proud of one day.”

It didn’t feel too profound. When Cadance looked back, Sunset half expected her to look disappointed she hadn’t driven Sunset to tears.

It also didn’t make Sunset feel worse. It helped, if only a little.

“You don’t seem too convinced,” Cadance said, her seeming disappointment turned real.

“No, but… Inertia and all that. I think you said the right things.” Sunset began to straighten up. “Maybe we should get back to the party. I’m hearing my thoughts too much.”

“If you want to.” Cadance shrugged, her wing gently yet firmly shoving Sunset back down. “But I’d also like to genuinely catch up with you. We just won’t go over everything since we last spoke for… Obvious reasons.”

Both of them snorted.

“So… what, then? Not much of a catchup if we don’t talk about that stuff.”

“Hmm…” Cadance’s other wing unfurled, two of its primaries curling under her chin as she contemplated. “Why not tell me about Earth in detail? Twilight’s talked a little about these smartphone things, but I have no idea how they work when you don’t have magic over there.”

Sunset let out a little giggle. A silly distraction, but Sunset had a wealth of knowledge in her head she could expound on for hours. “Sure. Yeah. I’m sure you wanna hear me talk my way through an essay.”

Cadance giggled. “Ah, yeah. I got a little fed up with Twilight’s essays because she wrote endlessly as a foal. You, though…” Cadance hummed. “I never got to read a thing you wrote. Let’s change that from hereon in.”

Pondering that made Sunset’s mind reel. She could probably talk to Twilight, figure out how to share their combined journal or send messages another way. There were multiple means, magic and mundane, and all sorts of ways she could combine them and explain them to Cadance.

Sunset was getting ahead of herself. “In that case, let’s start with smartphones then. They don’t work here, but…”

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