Empathy is Magic, Pt. 1

by SisterHorseteeth

Chapter 11 - The Start of Something Terrible

The Break of Dawn was a wide, sorf-of-octagonal courtyard in the eastern side of the Celestial Palace’s floorplan, built specifically for public events like this. It had space enough to set up a big-top circus-tent and still have room for all the funnel cake vendors and fortune tellers and band stages one’s heart desired – though, of course, no festivities so lowbrow as a circus ever touched the space.

The central plaza was paved in jasper and red granite in a fitting replica of Celestia’s swirling solar cutie mark, from which winding paths snaked like solar flares through the rest of the yard. Most of the spaces between were turfed over in grass trimmed thrice-daily, but here and there were ornamental ponds and naturalistic shrubs that kept the place looking pleasant even when nothing was going on.

It was walled on all sides with airy pillars and rainbows of stained glass, except for two ramps on the northeast and southeastern walls, that tunneled underneath the castle to connect to the streets of Canterlot, so that the public might attend the events held here.

The Break of Dawn was the traditional grounds on which Canterlot held its Summer Sun Celebration (continuing to be held annually even after Princess Celestia started touring to raise it in a different town or city each year; the locals weren’t just gonna stop raking in the tourism bits) – as the Astral Eyrie proudly towered above, rising from the palace’s center. This, Canterlot’s oldest observatory, was the structure from whose balconic platform the missing Princess would, every dusk and every dawn, lower and raise her sun and her moon. (Cadance, on the other hoof, was so busy that she just guesstimated where these celestial bodies were supposed to be on the spot, wherever she was at a given time.)

It seemed only fitting that Sunset and her recruits (and Smolder, who had invited herself so as to remind Sunset of the bet she lost) commandeered the Break of Dawn for the Coronation of Princess Cadance.

None of those recruits seemed thrilled to be here.

It was a little past two, and Lemon Zest was asleep on her hooves.

Sunset asked, “I take it she’s used to sleeping in?”

“Yes. But no,” Indigo Zap answered, in Lemon’s stead (and smacked the edge of her wing on the back of her head, very briefly rousing her). “She’s just been up all night. Again.”

“Present!”, Lemon announced, raising a wing to the sky. When she noticed she wasn’t sleeping in class and had, in fact, graduated a few years ago, that wing fluttered back down to her side and the night owl (night fowl?) drifted back to sleep.

Meanwhile, Sugarcoat was decidedly still in class. As soon as she had arrived at the Break of Dawn, she found herself a nice patch of plaza to spread her books and papers out on so she could chip away at her accounting coursework. Several paperweights (that frankly just looked like rocks) held her paperwork down so the gentle breeze coming from the tunnels didn’t carry it off. Everypony else had to awkwardly clump around her workspace while she ignored them.

Sour Sweet was probably the only pony gathered there with a smile on her face, and Sunset knew better than to trust it. “Oh, give her a break, Go-Go!”, she sweetly cooed, and Sunset counted the seconds before the other horseshoe dropped. “It’s not like any of us were told we needed to be ready today.”

One and a half seconds, by the way.

“I saw it coming,” commented Sugarcoat, finally deigning to address her company. She did not look up from her homework. “Royal authority is specifically vested in the ceremony of coronation, not the state of alicornity, so Mi Amore Cadenza needed Sunset to throw together this rush-job of an inauguration as soon as possible. She’s got a Princess to look for and/or a throne to usurp.” She cleared her throat. “I cleared my absences with my professors as soon as Sunset was out of sight.”

“Wait. What was that about usurpation?”, asked Indigo. “Princess Cadance wouldn’t do that. Would she?”

“She’s not a usurper,” insisted Sunset, with a mocking laugh. “She doesn’t have it in her.”

But Indigo still looked to her lawyer friend for an answer.

“I wouldn’t know,” Sugarcoat told Indigo, then to Sunset: “I don’t trust you to be honest about that, but I particularly care, either, as long as she dots all her I’s, crosses all her T’s, and uses her power to deal with the dragon problem.”

Before Sunset could probe into what she meant by that, Lemon awoke with a start. “Whazzat? Dragons?” Then, laughing, she nudged the shoulders of the nearest ponies (Indigo and Sour) and rambled, “Man, you guys should listen to Ragecrater. Immolator bucking shreds. It’s awesome.” Thankfully, her friends were content to let that tangent of hers die unanswered as Lemon slowly drifted off again.

Smolder joined the conversation at that point, scrambling up from where she’d been lying in the grass to point her clawed finger at Sugarcoat. “You got a problem with dragons, blue pony?” She was trying really hard to be intimidating. Even knowing she could back herself up with firebreath if it came to it, Sunset found the little drake’s challenge to this pudgy horse who was more than twice her size adorable.

Snickering, Sour slid over to Smolder’s side. “Yeah, Sugarpie!~ Since when were you an antisaurist?” It was plain from the scat-eating grin on her face that she didn’t believe a word she was saying and just wanted to help instigate.

Sugarcoat did not flinch at these accusations of bigotry, her response coming confidently and collected: “I didn’t mean it like that. –”

– Smolder tried to retort, “Sure you didn’t,” (or something to that effect) –

But Sugarcoat motor-mouthed right past her without even a moment’s interruption. “I’m assuming you’re related to the envoy sent by the Dragonlands that my professors have been gossiping about. It would go a long way to explain why the Royal Student is drakesitting you. But even if you aren’t, that does not change the fact that there is an envoy. The Dragonlands don’t do envoys unless they’re mad at us but aren’t quite ready to destroy both of our nations in a bloody, fiery war. There is a problem, and it involves dragons; ergo, there is a dragon problem. I was not factually incorrect to label it as a dragon problem; only unclear in my wording. You are owed nothing more than a brief apology, so here it is: sorry.” She said all that without even taking a breath. “I rest my case.”

Smolder shrugged, instantly bored the moment she lost her potential casus belli. “Yeah, fine, whatever.” She flopped back down into the grass.

And without a casus foederis, Sour Sweet lost her interest in antagonizing Sugar, too. She remarked, “Well, at least one of us had the foresight to plan for a complete scatshow. Isn’t that right, Sunny?” Sour Sweet turned to Sunny Flare with the kind of grin a mewling right-hoof mare showed to the leader of her clique because she wanted approval – and the others turned to her as well. The gang hadn’t been back together for more than five minutes, and already, the old social routines that lay dormant in the muscle memory shook off the dust and reasserted themselves.

–Or they tried to, but Sunny Flare wouldn’t let them. She gave no acknowledgement of Sour’s snark whatsoever: no comment, no expression, not even a glance her way.

It was weird that this quiet, self-loathing shrimp was so seemingly coded as the leader of the bunch. She sure wasn’t acting like it, physically and silently standing apart from all her supposed friends. Even the dragon with no reason to give a crap about any of this had found something to say.

Sour’s smile deflated into a pout. “What’s your problem?”

“I’m just here to do my job.” Wasting no breath, Sunny Flare asked Sunset, “Which is…?”

Ah, right.

“Okay, now that everypony’s here, we can begin.” Scanning the disgruntled crowd again, Sunset decided to inject some extra mollification into the briefing. “Again, sorry for the short notice. Even I was blindsided,” she added, absolving herself of guilt – then, crucially, continuing before anypony could challenge her on that: “But, now that we know we have a week until the big day, we should get started right away.”

Sunset grinned, and it was not entirely insincere. She was proud of herself, having already figured out the perfect role for each and every one of them. Especially Sunny Flare. Oh, she had something special in mind for her…

But Sunset would let her squirm in anticipation, first.

“Sour Sweet, since you volunteered for it, you’re overseeing catering. Remember; we need both a meal for the post-coronal feast and, like, festival fare for all the booths that are gonna be set up around this court, so please make sure there’s some variety in your meal plan, alright?”

“You’d be surprised just how many different ways there are to prep cranberries,” Sour assured her, undaunted.

Sunny Flare gagged. Indigo winced. Lemon stirred uncomfortably in her sleep.

“I’ll bring my own dinner,” declared Sugarcoat.

“I’m sure you know at least one meal that doesn’t involve cranberries.” Sunset moved on, before Sour could protest the sacrilege. “Lemon Zest, you’re on music–”

No sooner had the word left Sunset’s mouth did Lemon take to the air, wings splayed and forelegs piercing the sky, shouting her “WOOHOO!” to the heavens. Then, she paused, hanging in the air like a Cloudsdale scarecrow as her drowsy brain stumbled for the words to ask, “Wait… how loud am I allowed to get?”

Sunset looked around the Break of Dawn. “It’s a pretty big court. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“RADICAL!” Lemon shot another three yards higher with a looping twirl, and then came back down to Equus like she was trying to buck the pavers out of the ground. Her two back hooves skated along on horseshoes which kicked up way more sparks than they had any right to, while her wings and forehooves whipped out an air guitar, which, through some weird trick of pegasus magic, actually resonated as a wild and sloppy guitar solo (though, since the skies were clear that day, it was acoustic).

Lemon met Indigo’s waiting wing with a pinions-high as she skidded to a stop. More weird pegasus magic intervened with the natural qualities of air and sound, so that when their wings slapped together, there was an actual clap instead of a dull, feather-muffled thud.

Seemingly subconsciously, Sugarcoat whistled an echo of Lemon’s melody as she slid around the beads on an abacus. It was a very uninspired cover: more technically competent, perhaps, but without the zest of Lemon’s performance.

Other receptions were less enthusiastic. Acoustic or not, it was still loud enough that Sunny begrudged herself to sit on the lawn just so she could clasp her ears under her hooves. She didn’t even notice the green stains it left on her hindquarters until she caught Sour Sweet snickering at her. With a turn and a scowl, the unicorn conjured some kind of ethereal lavender rag and wiped the mess away.

Sunset allowed herself to join in on the laughter, but only briefly. They had a schedule to keep. “Indigo Zap, as the only other pegasus on the crew, you’re in charge of weather.”

An ambitious grin split Indigo’s muzzle. “Baller! Can do.”

It looked like that was all that needed to be said, until Sugarcoat volunteered another comment. “Looks like I’ll be bringing an umbrella, too.”

Okay, that was probably a bad sign. Sunset should probably establish at least one ground rule there. “Do what you want as long as nopony gets rained on.”

“Ah, you’re no fun.” Indigo shook her head disapprovingly, though the smile hadn’t completely left her. “But fine, whatever you say, boss.” Sunset felt a rush of satisfaction at those words. “Rain or no rain, this coronation’s still gonna be. Un! For! Gettable!”

Sunset tried to ignore what she could swear sounded like a distant, dramatic thunderclap. “That’s what I like to hear!”

Sunset was saving Miss Flare for last, of course (no matter how much she tapped her hoof or insistently glanced at the clock looming over the courtyard), so that left one other pony.

“Sugarcoat, I’m putting you in charge of activities and scheduling, since you seem to have a good head for time management. We’ve got an entire courtyard to fill with entertainment until the main event, which we’ve gotta make sure as many ponies can attend as possible.”

“Okay,” was all she said, and got back to her homework.

“And that leaves Sunny Flare–”

Lemon Zest interjected, “Uh-oh! I just realized: isn’t it gonna get confusing, both of you being Sunny?”

The two unicorns probably would have exchanged looks – if Lemon’s phrasing hadn’t set Sunset Shimmer completely off.

“Don’t you dare call me ‘Sunny’ ever again, or I’ll–!” She caught herself before she threatened to teleport anypony into a burning oven (which she totally wouldn’t do! –but it doesn’t help to shy from the hyperbolic when making threats). She needed these losers to work with her, at least until the Coronation was over and they’d found a sixth bearer for the group.

Every minute she spent with them, she was more and more grateful she never volunteered herself to fill the gap. As much as power was power – whether it came from alicornity, wielding the weapons of Harmony, or the social status of being a national hero – Sunset would sooner self-immolate than call any of these insufferable headcases her coworkers.

Anyways, she had a fire on her tongue to put out. “Don’t call me ‘Sunny’. Please.”

Lemon backed away, ears flattened. “Okay, but, like, still, Sunset and Sunny still sound wicked similar if you’re yelling them across a field…”

“You’re not wrong,” Sunset conceded, “but I’m gonna have to pull rank and insist on staying ‘Sunset’. You’ll have to come up with something else for Miss Flare.”

“We could call her Sunstroke,” Sugarcoat offered, matter-of-factly.

Sunstroke visibly fumed.

“What a great idea!~”, Sour chimed in.

Sunstroke fumed harder.

Interesting. Sunset asked, “What, is that what Sunny’s short for?

“It’s not short for anything!”, blurted Sunny.

But then Sugarcoat had to go and correct her. “Though it used to be.” To her credit, the little snitch did flinch when Sunny’s scornful glare fell upon her, and busied herself with her homework again… but the cat was out of the bag.

“So… it’s not Sunstroke.”

“No,” explained Sour Sweet, a playful mirth upon her countenance, “that’s just what we tease her with when she’s being a grouch who needs to lighten up already. If we told you what it was really short for…” – She paused, that smirk melting into a wild-eyed, mortal terror. – “Why, she’d string us all up by our gaskins and leave us for the crows.” She’d come uncomfortably close to Sunset to deliver her warning, her breath hot and bitter as she stressed the sibilants.

Sunset grimaced (at both the mental image and the smell of Sour’s breath) and was about to ask Sour to get back in her own personal space before she moved her herself–

And then a hearty, snorting guffaw bubbled up from Sour’s throat, which Indigo and Lemon joined in on as she trotted away. Even uptight Miss Flare seemed to allow herself a slight chortle. After all, Sour was making Sunny’s own case for Sunset to drop the subject of her full first name.

Still… if Sunset learned what ‘Sunny’ was really short for, that was something she could bother Sunny with the rest of her life if she wanted. Hope you weren’t too attached to “Sunny”, Miss Flare.

She had to play it cool, though. “Really?” Sunset cocked her brow and turned to Sugarcoat, hoping to see just how tightly she could squeeze the snitch. “Is that so?”

Sugarcoat gulped, as if to keep the unruly answer down, but it burbled nauseously from her mouth regardless of her best efforts. “She’d… definitely try.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound very scary at all,” Sunset assured her. She almost added that, if Sunny tried anything, she was fired, but Sunny might take that as a way to weasel out of this job she apparently didn’t even want to be on, and that just wouldn’t do. “You know what it is, don’t you?”

Sweat visibly beaded on Sugarcoat’s brow. “I do…”

Glancing Sunny’s way, it appeared she’d turned into a statue again. Indigo poked her with the azure tip of her two-tone wing, and she just didn’t budge at all.

Sunset felt feathers tapping her on her own back. It was Lemon, eying her with a nervous smile and downturned eyes. “Hey, uh, I think you’re wigging Sunny out…”

Playing dumb, Sunset matching Lemon at her level. “It’s just a nickname. Literally just a word.” Stepping out from under Lemon’s wing, she addressed Sugarcoat again. “So! You wanna tell me what it is?”

“I don’t particularly want to, no…”, Sugar said, very technically. Her knees were wobbling. The fink was fighting for her life not to spill it.

An idea came to Sunset. “You know, Cinch’s dossier didn’t mention any other names she went by. Maybe I want to run a background check,” she bluffed. “You could really help me out with that.”

Instead of answering that, Sugarcoat’s violet eyes shot to the side, meeting the same color in Sour Sweet’s stare. Her fellow earth pony was… chomping her teeth for some reason.

Suddenly, Sugarcoat crammed one of her rock paperweights in her mouth and started chewing. Loudly.

Even though earth pony magic ensured it was the stone that shattered instead of Sugarcoat’s teeth, it still made Sunset’s jaws ache, just hearing it.

“What–?”, she began to demand–

–But Sour Sweet cut her off. “For Celestia’s sake, Sunset, haven’t you heard it’s rude to talk with food in your mouth? Unlike some ponies, our dear, sweet Sugarcoat has manners.”

Everypony was glaring at Sunset.

Ugh. They wouldn’t spare Sunny Flare’s dignity if they knew what the sharp-tongued little rat had said about them. Sunset would have to see what she could do to knock her down a peg in their eyes. Maybe she could borrow Raven Inkwell’s dictaphone, hide it somewhere, and coax out a another one of Sunny’s petulant outbursts, one-on-one.

But right now, if she didn’t back off ASAP, she was going to turn them all against her, if she hadn’t already. “You know what? Forget I asked.”

For now.

While Sugarcoat was busy swallowing her gravel with a pained tear in her eye, an errant breeze lifted a freshly-unmoored paper into the air. Though she reached out a sluggish hoof for it, it was too late, fluttering well above her reach.

Indigo spread her wings to intercept, but she never did take flight. Instead, an amethyst aura shimmered across the sheet and tucked it safely beneath an uneaten paperweight. A delicate filament of magic connected it, of course, to Sunny Flare’s horn.

So, sometimes, Sunny was able to recognize when somepony was trying to do her a favor.

A new emotion was painted across the weaker mage’s face: shocked gratitude, and not just at Sugarcoat. Sunny must have expected somepony to spill the beans. She quickly shook it off, however. Couldn’t go changing her mind about her ex-friends, now, could she?

Finally, she spoke up, the fizzle of indignation in the back of her throat dying down. “Right, well, I’ll tell you what, dearies: if it’s that much of a problem to just call me Sunny, I’m fine with Flare. Is that alright?”

Was it? That was Sunset’s aunt’s name – Fire Flare.

Luckily, Sunset cared for her aunt as little as she cared for Sunny. Maybe being named ‘Flare’ just made you an awful hag automatically.

“Fine by me, Flare,” Sunset acknowledged, before putting on her best plausibly-deniable sinister smile. “As to your assignment…”

The hunt for Sunny’s secret name wasn’t the end of Sunset’s retaliation; just a spur-of-the-moment appetizer. It was time for the main course. Sunset drew on everything Sunny had revealed about why she didn’t want in on this project to craft her role and the blurb she was about to give.

“You’re on decor. You wanted to give this ceremony the respect it deserves? You want it to be something you and your mother can be proud to have your name attached to? Well, like ninety percent of public reception’s in the first impression, and ninety percent of a first impression is in appearances.”

Already, Flare was freezing up again, the hairs on her turquoise hide standing up straight.

“It’s all balanced on your pretty little head. Don’t make it a Sunny Failure. Good luck!”

“Thanks,”she hollowly replied.

Sneering, Sour Sweet asked Sunset, “And what are you going to do? Sneak off back to the palace until it’s party time?”

Sunset shook her head. “Nope; this is as much my project as yours.” That is to say, she needed to make sure these maladapted mares didn’t screw it all up for her. “I’ll be sticking around to sign off on purchases and make sure everything goes smoothly. Don’t mind me.”

“Great! We’re not even the managers; you are, and we’re your supervisors.”

“Contractors in supervisory roles,” Sugarcoat corrected. “The applicable labor and tax laws are very different.”

“Whatever.”

Before any further bickering could break out, Sunset launched a magic firework into the sky, which popped and sizzled with sparkles in all the shades of greenish blue. It probably wasn’t that visible against the clear sky, but it got all her supervisors’ attention. She announced, “Alright, that’s your briefing. Get to work, everypony, and let’s make Princess Cadance proud!”

Author's Note:

Well, it'll be a harsh deadline, but I'm sure with hard work and cooperation, this Coronation will be a success.

And yeah, here we see the archetype inhabited by Mi Amore Cadenza's Coronation Ceremony: it is the celebration that forces our antisocial protagonist to coordinate with and get to better know the other five mares of her future squad, in the same vein as the Summer Sun Celebration or the Lunaverse's Longest Night Celebration.

We also get to see the other side of the Sunset coin here, which I've been holding back on. You've had the room-reading, fast-talking, manipulative schemer; but you also have the vindictive, petty, easily-angered bully. I'm sure these sides can coexist in perfect harmony with each other and won't step on each other's hooves at all.

Comments

[foment-dissent]

Mean Sunset has her charms

[Lurks-no-More]

Whatever Sunny's full name is, it must be interesting. (I can just imagine Sunset's reaction if she, too, is a Sunset!)