The Girl From the Ivory Palace
Wallflower of Canterlot
It was on a sunny weekday afternoon that young Wallflower Blush saw the fiery-maned filly for the first time.
School earlier that day hadn’t been so pleasant. The less she thought of it, the better. There was little need for her parents to get even more concerned about her grades. They had enough on their plate as it was, with the looming Autumn sure to bring in slower business after the romantic Spring and the jolly Summer. Hopefully, Wallflower had thought, this meant all the time in the world to help lift the odd crate and flower-pot around the shop whenever she would end her classes for the day.
She remembered quite vividly the sight which greeted her when she pushed the door open, cutting off her thoughts of the day’s homework. How could she not, when it was such a radiant splash of colour amidst the greenery of the little flower shop.
First, she’d thought the pony was on fire. But second thoughts led her to conclude that she wasn’t, it was merely their fiery colours – from their red-and-orange mane, and lush orange coat, to the Sun-shaped mark upon their behind. Wallflower didn’t see the pony’s face right away, as they were turned away from her, browsing the rows.
For the longest time, or perhaps it wasn’t much time at all, Wallflower stared at the customer, who was randomly fiddling with flower-pots. Employing both their forehooves, and an otherworldly amaranth glow around the pots.
Oh. So the unknown customer was a unicorn. The blazing thickness of the mane made it hard to spot their horn, facing away from Wallflower as they were. The flower shop had been frequented by unicorns before, plenty of nobles and such. But very few were as young as she, and never on their lonesome.
Wallflower steeled herself, taking a deep breath. Her father wasn’t here at the moment, yet a customer was in need.
“Excuse me, um–”
Wallflower cut off her own words as fast as she’d spoken up. Why did she do that? The customer hadn’t seen her. Surely she didn’t want to be bothered. But the words had done their damage, for the customer’s ears flicked.
Now she had to follow up. Great.
“Are,” Wallflower continued, clearing her throat, “are you buying anything?”
It might as well have been a mumble. Quieter, actually. Nothing but the sound of the wind chimes punctuated her mistake in speaking up. Wallflower had to stop herself from pulling down her sun hat over her eyes. But the unicorn paused in their rummaging, their aura setting the pot they held gently down.
“No,” said the customer, withdrawing their forehoof. “Just wanted to look around. Can’t I find a place to wind down after studying all day long?”
A girl. The unicorn was a girl. Yet her voice was quite scratchy and unfeminine.
She turned and stared straight at Wallflower, cocking an eyebrow. Goodness. Such a piercing gaze from those blue eyes. The unicorn’s height, which stood a little taller over her own, also gave Wallflower some pause.
And yet now she actually saw the unicorn’s face, Wallflower realised that while they were undoubtedly older and taller than she, they couldn’t be a grown-up. It was the mane, so expressive and shocking, which had drawn away Wallflower’s eye from this.
But to a grown-up, the unicorn – who had to have two or three more years on her than Wallflower’s own nine – would be just a filly, same as she.
“N-no, no problem at all, it’s okay. You can take your time, I’m– I’m sure Dad would be okay with that,” Wallflower stammered out.
The filly nodded. “Okay then! Good to know.”
Before Wallflower could follow up, a voice was heard from the backyard.
“Wallflower? Is that you, honey?”
Her father’s voice. Warm and kind and everything Wallflower could ask for. The door to the back opened, and there he emerged, taking caution not to trip. His build was not quite a gardener’s, more a labourer’s, but Wallflower knew he had just the gentlest, most caring set of hooves.
His gentle brown eyes met Wallflower’s, then turned to their customer. He gasped.
“Oh– Miss Shimmer! Good afternoon– oh, pardon me, is there anything you like? I’m sorry, I was just at the back.”
“I can see that. Nothing for today, I suppose,” replied the filly, her tone prim and proper. She did give a polite nod, though her pleasant smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, her eyes panning over his form. “Have a good day. Nice shop.”
She passed by Wallflower without a second glance, and out the shop she went. The silence that followed was only broken by Wallflower, when she went over to her father in a happy skip and gave him a quick nuzzle, ignoring the dirt still staining his ivy-green coat.
“Hey, kid. How was school?” he asked. “Did the new maths teacher give you trouble again?”
“It’s nothing. Um, about the filly– who is she, Dad?” asked Wallflower, breaking off from the nuzzle. She was answered by the ruffling of her mane, and a short chuckle.
“Why, that was Sunset Shimmer, Wallflower,” said her father, “the Princess’ personal student.”
Sunset. Lovely name. It certainly suited her.
Wallflower wondered what she was thinking, while her father redressed the flower-pots Sunset had touched. Something about Sunset reminded her of some girls at school, especially among the older ones, whom Wallflower didn’t like very much. Even the ones her age went around in gaggles with their friends and never once invited her to play with them.
But Sunset had entered the shop all alone, when even the haughtiest schoolgirls usually didn’t go out without a friend trotting after them, if not their parents. And still the filly had spoken to her father like a grown-up, while her father had responded in kind.
As she went upstairs to clean up and greet her mother, Wallflower had to wonder how long it would be until she’d see Sunset Shimmer again.
* * * * *
Not very long, as it turned out.
For as the days of Autumn went by, Sunset Shimmer came by the shop, time and time again. She was a curious filly, Wallflower concluded. So unlike even the clique-leaders in her own school. Why, Sunset was her very own clique. At least, that was what Wallflower understood. There wasn’t much Sunset mentioned about ponies her age. After prodding her parents for a little, Wallflower had learned Princess Celestia had once run a short column announcing she’d taken on Sunset Shimmer, age ten, as a personal student. That was nearly three years ago, placing Sunset at twelve or thirteen. Thank goodness Wallflower’s mother carefully read the papers.
Sunset was also the strangest customer Wallflower had ever seen. For one, Sunset had little need for flowers, hardly ever asking questions about them. She’d come in during the late afternoon, walk idly around the shop – on occasion, she’d inspect the pots, but nothing more – and exit at the shop’s close. Rinse, repeat for the next time she came in, and the next, and the next.
Wallflower eventually had to bring up this strangeness to her parents. Loitering was bad, this was what she’d been taught. But her father told her it was fine, for all that he knew Sunset could be bringing good word all the way to the Princess herself. And her mother, well, so long as the unusual “customer” did not interfere with her endless work organising the finances, then Sunset Shimmer’s business was no great concern to her.
That left only Wallflower to deal with Sunset, and she did not find it pleasant at all at first, to have someone hovering around the shop at length, a constant weight upon her mind. Much as Wallflower wished she herself would get invited to more parties, she was fine right here. Only her parents and the flowers for company, and customers as background noise.
Half the time, Wallflower wasn’t sure Sunset knew she was even there. Usually, Wallflower was content to tending to the flowers, or her homework whenever her mother gently reminded her there was much to do. And Sunset would be there, distractedly inspecting the merchandise for hours on end without buying any, keeping her thoughts to herself.
Then one day, Sunset saw fit to appear with a ‘pop!’ directly into the flower shop.
The door hadn’t even been opened, the wind chimes lay untouched, the bell lay unrung. Yet there the unicorn was, flicking her mane without another care in the world.
“AH!”
This sudden appearance had startled Wallflower, who yelped, dropping the flowers she’d been carrying as she fell onto her haunches.
Sunset guffawed. “Oh, you should see the look on your face!” she wheezed, shaking her head. “Pretty cool, huh?”
Wallflower got back onto her hooves, gathering the flowers. None had been overturned, thankfully. She looked at Sunset, tilting her head.
“Wh–what was that?” she asked. Sunset rolled her eyes.
“That was teleportation,” Sunset said haughtily. “Or, the displacement of an object from one place to another. What do you think?
“Umm,” Wallflower began, pawing at the ground, “That’s, well. I don’t know how to put it. That’s neat, I guess. Sorry, um, I don’t know much about unicorn magic.”
“Oh, come on,” said Sunset. “Have you ever seen anypony else do it, huh?” She pointed a hoof out the window. “I went down from the palace, alll the way here. Blink of an eye! And I’ll be back before Mom even knows I’m missing. Ugh, look just– just forget it, I guess.”
Sunset turned away, huffing and muttering all the way. Wallflower looked down at her hooves, those old feelings of shame bubbling up to the surface.
She needed to fix it. Give Sunset some cheer.
“Um, Sunset?” asked Wallflower. “Does your Mom know you come down here?”
She wanted to scoot and hide, of course, once she’d finished. What a stupid question. Sunset had just said that her mother didn’t know about her being here. But it was too late. Sunset had turned around, faster than she’d expected, and narrowed her eyes.
“What? Why?” asked Sunset. “Why would she know? She’s busy. What makes you think she knows about this place?”
“Oh, uhhh, I don’t know? Maybe… maybe she wants some flowers.”
Sunset looked at her like she’d grown a second head.
“Sorry, but I don’t think she’s got time for that,” Sunset snorted. “Mom has got other stuff to worry about, like moving the Sun, you know. Besides, I don’t want her snooping down here. That’s why I ’ported here.”
Wallflower’s mouth hung open.
“... Princess Celestia,” said Wallflower, “is she your mother?”
“Yes, why?” Sunset asked, cocking an eyebrow. “She’s my mother, and she’ll always be. That’s what she told me when she took me in. You got a problem with that? ”
She fixed her gaze on Wallflower. Still thoughtful and so piercingly blue, rather pretty too. But it got Wallflower’s heart to skip a beat, as she stammered out a response.
“No, no not at all. It’s– it’s nothing, I’m being stupid. Did she teach you how to do it?”
“Mhm.”
“Oh,” said Wallflower. “I think that’s really cool, that she picked you. So does that… does that mean you’re a Princess, too?”
For a brief moment, Wallflower thought she saw fire in Sunset’s eyes, so intensely did the unicorn filly glare at her. But Sunset shook her head, sighing.
“No… no it doesn’t,” she said, quietly “That’s what everyone asks. But Mom said there’s more to being a Princess than just fancy tricks, or the crown on her head, or her wings. That’s what all the books are for. I don’t get it, but I’m trying to.”
“Huh. Well, um, I think you’ll be a Princess, Sunset. I mean, she chose you.”
A pause. Wallflower coughed and couldn’t meet Sunset’s eyes, but it seemed to her that, unusually, the unicorn filly seemed surprised, and Wallflower didn’t know why. What she’d said had only seemed like the obvious thing for her to say.
Then, Sunset broke into a smile. A beautiful little smile. It occurred to Wallflower, daring to look back up, that she’d never seen Sunset smiling before, anymore than she’d seen her teleport.
“Hah! Of course she did, didn’t she? She told me I’m the best student she’s ever had in nearly a thousand years. And one day, I’ll be just like her…”
On that afternoon, Sunset did not leave the shop until closing-time, but little lingered in Wallflower’s mind of Sunset’s brags for the rest of the day, for all she could think of long after Sunset had left was that lovely smile.
* * * * *
And that was how it started. The talking. So much talking.
Wallflower could never be sure what had changed. Why Sunset had gone from barely noticing her to pouring out whatever she had in mind like this. The only sure thing was that Sunset had plenty to talk about. Half of it sounded impenetrable to Wallflower, of course. Palace life with all its myriad customs mystified her. Down here it was a simple life. Home, school, helping out at the shop, day in and day out.
Not so much Sunset. The older girl always had coursework, practical and theoretical, surrounding the magical arts. Endless lists she could recite at the drop of a hat, and did, whenever it pleased her.. And, whenever she could, Sunset showed off her magic. Unicorn magic could be so strange and wonderful both, and Sunset displayed it with flourish and pride, from enchanting quills to dance, or something so simple as reading the books she brought and shared with the flick of her horn.
It was so very strange, this great unicorn magic, the way it could be used to control and to alter. Even here in Canterlot, many a unicorn had but a small repertoire of spells at their disposal. Wallflower only remembered what her parent told her, how their earthpony magic was tied to the flow of the land and strength of one’s self, and there were villages were by tradition, Winter Wrap Up remained performed by hoof to this day. But so long as Sunset wasn’t a bother to her, Wallflower was content with staying quiet, peppered only by whatever few questions she had. Sunset didn’t need to hear her talk. Wallflower liked listening to her and Sunset liked to talk.
Everyone’s a winner.
Speaking of Winter, as Autumn ended and Winter’s breath enveloped all of Canterlot, business in the little shop slowed as the snow piled up in the streets. It went on, their customers’ visits growing scarcer, for most flowers did not much agree with the cold of Winter, and Hearthswarming signified that quite a few customers would stay inside and share warmth with their families. Wallflower’s family was no different, yet Winter’s chill did little to dissuade them from their work. Snow had to be plowed in front of their shop, so Wallflower obliged. Neither of her parents were that young anymore.
The children of Canterlot played in the snow, as children do, creating snow pegasi or battling in the streets with snowballs. Wallflower, however, preferred her shop and flowers, so she stayed inside most of the time to tend to them in the winter nursery. When she had a moment to spare, usually in the evenings, she read a few stories ranging from classic fairytales, to the newest bestselling picture-book from her favourite author Sunny Skies. She loved how the water-colours in those books brought their stories to vibrant life, be it the furthest reaches of the oceans blue or exotic gardens full of flowers she only just could name.
Business may have slowed, true, but their flower nursery would do just fine. And whatever flower they couldn’t grow here, they bought from elsewhere. Homegrown daisies down at rural Ponyville, or fanciful girasoli from the far-off land of Oleander across the sea. Wallflower was fairly sure those last ones were just sunflowers, though perhaps very closely related. Words could be so confusing.
But gardening and warm nights by the fireplace did not take Wallflower’s mind off of things. Sunset Shimmer’s visits had dried up, as the semester ended. This concerned her at first, seeing how she couldn’t even spot Sunset amongst the older children playing, till her father assured her that perhaps Sunset wished to remain warm indoors just as they did. That was enough for Wallflower, although waiting remained an annoyance. Still, if Spring should be when Sunset returned, then till Spring she shall wait. And surely, she decided, a complementary – or was that complimentary? – bunch of flowers wouldn’t hurt to give Sunset some early cheer.
Wallflower began with roses. Roses were noble and fanciful. Always there by someone’s lapel, or wrapped in a bouquet. Romantic, elegant, and beautiful. They’d fit Sunset very well.
So when the chance came, she asked her mother to add to the order from Oleander, because their roses possessed that extra vibrant look which surpassed Equestria’s homegrown roses. Arranged in wonderful little bouquets, her mother had little reason to question her, since Oleandrite flowers drew eyes from all over.
The Spring thaw came and went, just as scheduled. To Wallflower’s delight, so did Sunset show up as expected that first Spring afternoon, all weary and spent from her homework already. She passed by the roses Wallflower had set up, distractedly giving them a sniff.
“Oh, we had an order for these come in, um,” Wallflower lied. “I think they’re ready to be mailed. See anything you like, Sunset?”
Sunset scoffed, her nose scrunched up.
“Ugh, don’t talk to me about roses,” she said, with a dismissive wave and stuck-up snout. “Hate the scent, hate the thorns. Every second-rate noble wears them when they grovel at the Palace. Maybe I should get Mom to ban them from the Palace grounds one of these days.”
No roses, then.
* * * * *
Roses, however, weren’t Sunset’s only woes, as it turned out. Only the woes that she would rather speak of so openly. For as Spring went on, the failed gift of roses a matter of the past, Sunset’s visits grew quieter and quieter still. It wasn’t that she stopped visiting outright, no. She’d still come in, mutter here and there, and eventually lay down on the floor to nap until Wallflower’s father came by to wake her up.
Much as Wallflower missed her voice, her stories, the way she flicked her mane even, she understood. Palace life was a busy one. Best not to pester her, Wallflower thought, not after Sunset had groaned and gone back to sleep when she’d first asked why. Neither was it always entirely quiet. Sometimes, Sunset would try to levitate a pot as long as she could, till her magic wavered and the pot fell onto the floor. And Wallflower would be there to catch it, even as Sunset tried another pot, then a shelf, and one day almost levitated Wallflower herself.
How odd indeed. Perhaps this was how other unicorns dealt with stress. Wallflower shuddered to think of how the Princess might have done it. How many butlers and servants and nobles had to deal with this in secret?
But it was in the middle of Spring that Sunset Shimmer finally broke her erstwhile silence rather uncharacteristically. Uncharacteristic, that is, in that she slammed the door open – as hard as she could without shattering it outright – and stomped her way in. Wallflower had grown so used to her teleporting that she again dropped her pot with a yelp. This time, it smashed.
“GAH!” Sunset exclaimed, huffing. “I’m done. I’m tired. I’m sick of… gah, just, ughhh.”
She sauntered off to her corner, ignoring the shattered pot, and lay down with a grumble. Once Wallflower had swept the floor clean of any bits and pieces, she went over to join the older girl.
“Hey, um, you okay?” asked Wallflower, putting down her gardening hat. “You seemed pretty upset there, Sunset.”
“No, I’m not,” retorted Sunset. “Not okay. Won’t be. Not if she’s still there.”
“Who’s there?”
“Her!”
“...Princess Celestia?” asked Wallflower. She regretted it as soon as she finished, wincing for the inevitable scolding.
“What– no! Why would I call Mom– no, darn it,” Sunset said, rubbing her temple. “Cadenza. I’m talking about Cadenza.”
“Cadenza?”
“Read the news!” Sunset hissed, before pausing. “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.”
Wallflower furrowed her brows in contemplation. This wasn’t the first time Sunset was angry. Far from it, for her temper was as fiery as her mane was. Even if she’d felt any inclination to, Wallflower had learned not to poke at it.
But this here was a matter she ought to be familiar with. Complaints about a newcomer weren’t wholly mysterious to her. A new arrival in the household, based upon what Wallflower had heard discussed in class, listening from the sidelines, prompted either elation or frustration.
Still. Best to get to the bottom of it.
“... Sunset?” Wallflower began carefully. “Are you getting a new sister?”
“Very funny,” answered Sunset, rolling her eyes. “Very, very funny.” She sighed, letting her words out slowly. “No. Cadenza’s just some… some… provincial girl Mom took in from Oleander.”
“I– It wasn't a joke,” Wallflower stated, her voice lowering to scarcely above a mumble. “Um. Oleander’s really far. Maybe, maybe she’s special. Like you.”
Sunset’s eyelid twitched. Wallflower held back a squeak.
“Special now, is she?” said Sunset. “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.” Strange. There were no other ponies like the Princess of the Sun. Only she, and she alone.
“Yes, pay attention,” Sunset chided. “Why does she get to be 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!”
With another groan, she buried her face in her hooves. Looking left and right, Wallflower chewed on her lips. She moved to pat Sunset, but froze just before she did. Sunset wouldn’t like being touched.
Withdrawing her forehoof, she cleared her throat.
“Sunset, um, even if Cadenza has wings,” said Wallflower. Sunset’s ears twitched, but she remained quiet, “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.”
Sunset sighed, as she lifted her head.
“You think so?”
“Y-yeah, you are,” said Wallflower. Sunset’s glare softened, as she let out a short chuckle.
“Guess I am,” she said, all haughty and proud once more. Her frown remained. “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.”
Ah. One of those kids, Wallflower mused.
“That’s too bad,” said Wallflower, with all the sympathy she could summon up. “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. But just because Mom told me, doesn’t mean I have to smile, right?”
“Maybe not,” said Wallflower hurriedly. “And I mean, with what you told me, Cadenza sounds just awful.”
“She is!” Sunset exclaimed happily, “Finally, someone gets it– 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 said nothing, listening to Sunset rant on and on, as the day came to a close.
* * * * *
Canterlot was, by all rights, a beautiful city, courtesy of the artisans and architects who had built it brick by brick, jutting defiantly along the edge of many waterfall upon the mighty Canterhorn. And for the most part, Wallflower found it a comfortable, agreeable place in which to live. Stuffy or snooty the various denizens could be, there was a charm in the enchanting feel that permeated the city on slow, quiet days. Less pleasant to her was when there were crowds. Princess Celestia’s declarations always drew such large crowds, all suffocating and overbearing, with the fear of being trampled or squished or lost within always close by for Wallflower.
But if it meant Sunset would be happy, then an hour or two’s worth of standing there with her parents shouldn’t be more than she could handle.
So it was that Wallflower Blush stood amidst a crowd of hundreds, flanked by both her parents. Her father, always reliable, standing tall. Her mother, drawn out of her study, all too nervy at the thought of being away from her numbers and sheets for too long.
Things weren’t so bad. The crowd wasn’t as crushing as Wallflower had feared. Perhaps it was her father – though getting on with his years, his was still a confident and encouraging presence. Perhaps it was the vivid image of Sunset, that rare smile of hers which kept Wallflower going. Whatever the case, here she waited. An early arrival meant they were close to the front, as the crowds grew and kept growing, in expectation of the news to come.
As the hour chimed, punctuated by the quieting murmurs of the crowd, it began.
From the Palace’s public balcony flew the Sun’s Herald, a great red phoenix, soaring above all their heads. She flew with a mighty screech, casting a long shadow in the morning Sun, drawing all eyes upon her. Meanwhile, the impeccably dressed, moustachioed stallion on the balcony, who’d been waiting there for as long as Wallflower could remember, perhaps even from before the dawn, spoke as the phoenix alight on her perch.
“By the power vested in me,” he said, voice measured and dignified, “I humbly welcome Her Royal Highness, Celestia, Princess of All Equestria, Stewardess of the Sun.”
The curtain parted. There emerged the Princess of the Sun.
Regal, resplendent in all her glory. Her alabaster coat shone like the radiant Sun she guided high. The crowd bowed, as did Wallflower and her family. When they returned their eyes upon the balcony, the Princess gave a friendly wave, coupled by her customary tranquil smile.
The stallion regarded this for a moment, prior to continuing. “His Royal Highness, Prince Azure Haven Blueblood, Duke of Canterlot, and his son, Prince Astron.”
Following in the Princess’s wake came the Prince in question. A distant nephew of hers, so Wallflower understood, although how exactly that worked, she found it a bit hard to grasp. By marriage to an old Northern kingdom, or something.
In any case, the white Prince, a unicorn wearing a uniform of the Sky-Navy, whose blond mane had been finely coiffed, seemed uninterested in the proceedings, barely gracing the applause with a nod. The colt by his side took to it more eagerly, preening himself. She couldn’t fully tell from down here, but it was remarkable how alike father and son looked, like two peas in a pod.
The mustachioed stallion announced a newcomer.
“Miss Sunset Shimmer, Royal Apprentice to Princess Celestia.”
Wallflower’s heart skipped a beat. The crowd gave a polite round of applause.
“Dad, can you pick me up?” Wallflower asked aloud, just above the buzz and clap of the crowd. “I want to see Sunset!”
It was all she needed to say. Without hesitation, with a fond chuckle, her father reached for her and hoisted her up upon his back.
There she was, Wallflower saw. Standing off to the side, partly concealed in the shade. It was quite the fair distance away, yet Wallflower could just make out a telltale frown beneath her expressionless look. At least, she believed it was. She had never seen Sunset look so unamused.
“And at last,” said the stallion, silencing the crowd, “it is my great honour to present Her Royal Highness, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.”
Murmurs arose as word traveled through the crowd, like wildfire. They fell, just as Princess Celestia and the others moved aside to allow another onto the balcony.
Pink. This was what struck Wallflower at first. So much pink on this filly, close to Sunset in age, contrasted with the Princess and Princes’ alabaster and Sunset’s fiery orange. The filly’s mane was of three colours, violet and rosey and a very pale yellow. A majestic horn protruded from her forehead.
A moment’s silence followed, as all of Canterlot took in the sight. But then, oh, how could any have expected what came next. The filly spread her wings, and the assembled crowd burst into gasps of awe and wonder. So too did Wallflower, her father, her mother, all.
“Citizens of Canterlot, people of Equestria,” Princess Celestia spoke, as the pink filly retracted her wings to hold them tight against her body, apparently bashful. Celestia’s voice was even, yet laced with restrained joy, “long have these years passed us by...”
Yet the Princess’s words of ancient lineages and royal alicorns faded into the back of Wallflower’s head as she braved the Sun’s rays to focus her gaze upon Sunset Shimmer.
Wallflower couldn’t see her clearly at this distance. Her friend had retreated into the shade. It wasn’t quite a stretch to imagine a twisted scowl upon her pretty face.
As the ceremony drew on, as Canterlot cheered for their new Princess, all that Wallflower could hope for was that Sunset knew that Wallflower Blush was looking at her from down there, and that this would be enough for her.
* * * * *
In the year that followed, there was much which changed between them, no matter how far Wallflower yearned to deny it. Not only did her schoolwork double, but so did Sunset’s assorted tasks and tasks. No longer was teleportation a common sight. Between Cadenza’s chiding and Sunset’s own growing weariness, there seemed to be little reason for her to do it at all as the months and seasons changed. And Sunset, once so vibrant and energetic with her bragging of past and present accomplishment, hadn’t as much to tell any longer.
Now, a sleeping Sunset was too often the sight that welcomed Wallflower after she’d returned from school, only to be woken up when the store would close.
It wasn’t all quiet, at least. From time to time, when she wasn’t feeling too tired, Sunset would tell her what she could. Of growing burden, all the tiny spells she ought to master from stacking scrolls to organising letterboxes, to memorising tiny details in the thickest of history books. How Cadenza was a constant presence, or thorn throughout – Wallflower couldn’t tell which was which judging from Sunset’s words alone. Cadenza, with her sweet words. Cadenza, with her nagging advice and questions. Cadenza, her wings and horn always a bitter reminder for Sunset.
Wallflower didn’t think the pink princess sounded very pleasant at all. How could she be, to take her Sunset away from her.
One weekday morning in Summer, there came a loud rhythmic knock at the door. The end of the school year had given Wallflower much needed reprieve, and here she found herself helping out her father more often as they prepared for the first customers of the day. But it did not bring Sunset the same cheer, since her visits had remained scarce over Spring.
Wallflower hadn’t bothered looking out the door to see who it was. She doubted Sunset would have knocked at all.
It was to her surprise when she was met with two ponies that looked to be Sunset’s age, though each was taller than she. One was a well-dressed white colt, with a neatly combed blonde mane, flirtatious smirk, and handsome blue eyes. And the other was...
The first thought Wallflower had was of roses. Pink roses, rising from thick bushes. Pretty flowers with thorns hidden beneath their pleasant appearance. But the alicorn filly’s smile lacked that porcelain quality of so many of the gentry who visited their flower shop.
She spoke, her voice melodious like the Spring breeze.
“Hello!” the pink filly said, waving a forehoof. “Hi, I– we’re here to look at your flowers. Is that okay with you?”
Her voice was nowhere near as stuffy as Wallflower had imagined it to be. Faintly accented, with what sounded like a touch of Oleandrite, but of an Equish so mellifluous and musical in intonation, that it was almost like hearing Princess Celestia speak.
“You’re Cadenza,” said Wallflower absent-mindedly. “Sunset’s sister.”
“Cadenza?” the filly repeated. She let out a sweet, graceful laugh, “Oh! No, no, it’s actually Cadance now. I– Sunset told me that’s what Cadenza is in Equish. Cadenza was Oleandrite. Sorry, I'm getting distracted. May we come in?”
“Oh, Of course we may!” exclaimed the colt before Wallflower could answer. His tone and voice, conversely, were as pompous as he looked. “Why, here’s so much to see, Candy– come along!”
Wallflower blinked, as the colt passed her by and the filly followed closely behind, glancing at her with an apologetically sheepish smile.
She trailed after them, unsure of what to do or say. What could she say? Cadenza knew Sunset, that much was true. And Sunset hadn’t spoken in too much detail, recently. Perhaps she could pry a little more…
… No, that wouldn’t be right. Sunset wouldn’t like that.
She cleared her throat, drawing both their eyes.
“Can I get you two anything?” said Wallflower. She pointed towards a few bouquets at the back. “We still have leftovers from Spring, couples’ special. See anything you two like?”
Princess Cadenza – or was that Cadance – shared a look with the colt, then shook her head rapidly.
“Oh, no, no no, I’m– we’re not together. Me and Blueblood, I mean. We’re just friends, and, well, Bluey is Sunset’s coltfriend. I'm Just doing him a favour and all.”
Wallflower’s heart skipped a beat. She held her breath. Her jaw clenched tighter by the second. Neither of the two noticed.
“Of which I am most certainly thankful,” said Blueblood, leaning over to give Cadance a friendly nuzzle. “And, bouquets! Always lovely those are.”
“No doubt about that, heh. Here, let me help you with them, Bluey.”
“Always reliable you are, Candy.”
“... Yeah,” said Wallflower, still breathless. “I’ll just… I’ll just get Dad.”
She headed upstairs without another word, as the two teenagers looked over the bouquets. Only one unwelcome word stuck on her head, as she went to knock at her father’s door.
Coltfriend.
The word echoed, ringing, occupied her thoughts. Coltfriend, coltfriend…
Sunset had never mentioned anything about him. Someone whom she knew outside of her. It shouldn’t have mattered. Wallflower was ten and Sunset was an older girl. But even so. There had been someone else all along. Someone she spent time with. Someone whom she lo–
No. Not the time to dwell. All that Wallflower cared for was to get her father downstairs for their first customers of the day.
“Ah, there we are!” exclaimed Blueblood with glee, shaking her father’s forehoof all too enthusiastically. “The owner of this establishment, I see. Here, old chap, how much for these?”
He presented the bouquets. Wallflower, though, caught sight of which flowers they were.
“No, wait– wait a minute,” said Wallflower. “Sunset doesn’t like roses.”
Cadance and Blueblood gave her curious stares.
“Oh. Really?” asked Blueblood. He guffawed when Wallflower nodded. “Hah! Told you we should have gone with the edelweiss! Never mind, I may get some anyway. They’d go well with my eyes, wouldn’t you think?”
“Whatever you say, Bluey,” Cadance answered with a roll of her eyes.
But at that moment, Wallflower couldn’t care for much more. Without excusing herself, she headed to the back of the room, far and away from the dealings. Her father could take care of today’s business. She’d have screwed it up, just as she had with Sunset.
What else could it have been, she wondered. Sunset had never mentioned her to him, or to Cadance. Sunset hadn’t thought of her. Had she been a little bit more open, been more than painfully shy and quiet Wallflower Blush, Sunset would have had reason to talk about her… to have remembered.
Stupid. So stupid, to think that she could have done anything differently. Blueblood, so handsome and fancy and every bit a unicorn of the Court. Nothing would make a difference. Finding her place, Wallflower laid down and pulled her sun hat over her eyes, and didn’t want to think of anything at all.
At least, until she heard that same gentle voice.
“You’re Wallflower, right?”
Wallflower looked up from beneath the rim of her hat. There she was. Princess Cadance.
“Y-yeah, I am,” answered Wallflower. She stood up, realising that Cadance stood taller than even Sunset. Yet she had none of the same intimidating, assertive presence Sunset favoured.
“You said I was Sunset’s sister,” said Cadance, lips curling into a friendly smile. “Honestly that’s the nicest anyone could say of us. I mean, I guess we are kind of cousins. Really distant. I’m not sure. Anyways, maybe ‘sister’ is right, eh-heh...”
She let out a cheerful giggle.
“Sorry, just wanted to tell you that.”
Wallflower bit her lip. Perhaps Cadance wanted to extract something from her. Still, there couldn’t be much harm done in a little talking.
“Maybe,” said Wallflower. “She, um… she shares a lot of things about you.”
“Ah, I guess it’s between you and her?”
Wallflower could only nod to that. Cadance, perplexingly enough, shrugged.
“I can imagine, don’t you worry. Sunset can be pretty difficult. But between you and me, she made it a lot easier for me to adjust to Equestria at least.”
Wallflower frowned at that. Sunset had rarely spoken so highly, so fondly… but come to think, in the past year, even as her fatigue grew, her bitterness seemed to fade and she’d never again talked so bitterly of Cadance as in those first days, either.
“I thought you two didn’t get along.”
“We didn’t. For a bit. Then, well, I guess there wasn’t much choice, was there?” Cadance said. “Well, we manage. You won’t hear that from Sunset, that’s for sure.”
A thought intruded into Wallflower’s mind. “She doesn’t talk about me either, does she,” she said, barely managing to keep the bile from seeping into her tone.
“Not really. We’re here mainly because Bluey’s Dad places an order here from time to time,” said Cadance. She tapped a forehoof to her chin. “I believe this is why Sunset started coming here. She likes flowers, you know, even if I’ve never known her to buy any. But that’s just Sunset for ya. She doesn’t open up real easily.”
“... She doesn’t?” Wallflower asked, the moment’s bile passing, only her curiosity remaining.
“Nope. I mean, I guess she doesn’t talk so much about this place because she doesn’t want either me or Aunt Celestia to snoop around here. Her little corner, all to herself.”
She looked around the flower shop, then chuckled.
“Can’t blame her much… It is a pretty little place. And comfy too. It reminds me of home.”
“It’s– it’s not much,” Wallflower added hurriedly. “It’s not like Oleander or anything. I’m sure your country was prettier than this.”
“I’m not talking about the land,” Cadance smiled, eyes twinkling. “It’s more– gah, what’s the word– the place. In my village, I used to help around the matriarch’s greenhouse. And I know a well-maintained garden when I see one.”
She nudged Wallflower with a wing. Wallflower winced at that, but saw no reason to withdraw.
“You should be proud, you know– Sunset doesn’t usually let herself get so attached to anything. I can definitely see why she’d want to keep us from intruding upon her special retreat.” She looked back, and sighed. Blueblood was waving her over. “I better get going. Looks like Bluey needs me to chip in.”
She turned around to leave. But one last nagging question lingered for Wallflower.
“Wait, Cadance– how, how long has she been with… with Prince Blueblood?”
Cadance chewed on her lip for a moment.
“A while? Maybe a year, soon, come the Month of Gytrash. The bouquet’s an anniversary thing. Bluey could have picked a few from the Palace gardens, but he wanted to spend his allowance on his marefriend, and I told him where he could look. It was pretty surprising. I mean, we were all friends before. It’s not been the smoothest of journeys, but they’ll manage. I hope.”
Her eyes met Wallflower’s. They looked much like Princess Celestia’s, all-encompassing in their loving warmth. And in those eyes, perhaps there was understanding.
“Hey, listen, Wallflower?” Cadance continued, her voice softening. Her smile was kind and gentle. “Just, don’t worry about it. It’s nice to see Sunset has friends besides us. Someone she’s shared a lot with, I can tell. She, uh, she doesn’t exactly do well with others. Not that she’d admit it, but– thank you. I mean that.”
Wallflower adjusted her hat, unsure of what to do or say, her gears turning. Finally, she settled with a nod.
“It’s– it’s nothing,” said Wallflower. “Um, thank you. Take care and– and enjoy the flowers.”
“It’s no trouble, and I’m sure she will. Take care, Wallflower.”
And as the two Royals left, Wallflower’s thoughts drifted still, away from the surprise that was Blueblood, onto opportunities and open doors.
* * * * *
Cadance’s words never strayed from Wallflower’s mind, as the seasons passed and Sunset’s workload grew larger still. Wallflower could fault her little for that; she had turned sixteen now. Wallflower was going on thirteen, but the age of accountability still seemed so far from her.
Meanwhile, Sunset’s responsibilities loomed ever larger. Day by day, little changes came over Sunset. She grew moody, less patient, less talkative. Wallflower understood, though. Sunset had others to take care of, much as it pained Wallflower to admit it. Soon, she’d be a Princess too. That was almost a certainty. There was no other pony as talented as Sunset.
Then one day in late Spring, almost a year after Wallflower had learned of Sunset’s coltfriend, the older girl spoke to her.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Sunset whispered, as Wallflower passed her by. She’d been laying down on the floor for some time, nothing out of the ordinary. “I don’t think it’s working out.”
Wallflower blinked at that. Sunset averted her gaze, tapping a hoof on the stony floor impatiently.
“Is something wrong?” asked Wallflower.
“This. Just– my thing. With Bluey. I just… I don’t know. It’s not working out.”
Heart thumping in her chest, Wallflower said nothing to that. Sunset went on.
“I mean, sure. It was fun when it was just us two, playing in the gardens, and his family yacht. And okay. I had fun with Cadance too, and… it’s just that I don’t think it’s gonna work now.”
“Oh. Did… did something happen between you three?”
“No. Nothing happened, it’s just like… Well, I feel like he doesn’t have much to go on,” lamented Sunset. “Sure, he’s nicer than his Dad and all that jazz. Plus, he is a whiz kid when it comes to ships.” She waved a forehoof vaguely, taking a moment’s pause. “But sometimes, I just feel like he doesn’t put much thought into his future, you know? He’s got nothing planned out. And then what? If we’re together, then his future becomes our future. Except I don’t want to be dragged down by him.”
“Why would he drag you down?” Wallflower asked, her head tilting. “He… I think… well, it seems like he loves you a lot, and… and if you married him, that’d make you a Princess for sure. Right?”
Sunset groaned, then laughed, a joyless and mirthless melody.
“Skies, Wallflower, you’re the last person I’d expect to say that,” she said, rubbing her forehead “I thought you got it. Look, I don’t want to marry into Princesshood, you know?”
“No?” Wallflower blinked. “I thought that was every little filly’s dream.”
At this, Sunset grew thoughtful in how she looked at Wallflower. Followed by a short, yet fairly genuine laugh, a momentary lightening of her demeanour.
“I’d forgotten. You’re so serious for your age, Wallflower, so much more serious than those fillies who keep pestering me outside of classes. Like that little weirdo who’s all about crackpot theories and mythological creatures, I ask you, what’s her deal. But never mind her, I was only reminded of her because she’s green. Like you.”
A sigh blew past Sunset’s lips, her morosity returning.
“But, no. Maybe I did, just a tiny bit, when I got together with him, but… That was two years ago. Two years, it’s like he won’t grow up. He doesn’t worry about these things. I don’t want people to say I only became Princess because I married a Prince. He expects we’ll both get married once we’ve both turned sixteen. He doesn’t get why I keep telling him we should wait. And I just know, if I told him what I want and why I want it, he’d just laugh it off.”
She fell silent, then, briefly.
“That was a lot. It’s silly, isn’t it?” said Sunset.
“No, no, it isn’t silly,” Wallflower said earnestly “It’s great that– that you’ve got these big dreams. I want you to succeed, Sunset,” said Wallflower, mustering the will to look at Sunset’s eyes. “I know you can.”
All that Sunset had for a reply were a cheery laugh and smile, neither of which reached her eyes.
“Stars above. I can’t even say this to his face. He wouldn’t take it seriously. Such a goof,” sighed Sunset. “At first, it feels good to have someone who doesn’t let anything weigh them down, but then it’s just tiring. Honestly? He’s lucky he’s got a cute butt.”
But Wallflower didn’t mind that Sunset’s mind still hadn’t entirely diverted from Blueblood, or the signs that she continued wanting to give him a chance. There was a slowly growing cheer, a merry song in her own heart.
* * * * *
That same night, long after everyone else had drifted off to sleep, the answer presented itself to Wallflower, all too crystal clear in hindsight. The flowers she wanted– no, she needed to offer her Sunset. Their lovely yellow look was just as beautiful and vivacious as Sunset was.
Girasoli. Sunflowers from faraway Oleander. They had to be the answer. Tall and proud and radiant like the filly who’d given her so much. The Oleandrite variety had such a pleasant aroma, colouring the imagination with images of sunny fields and rolling hills.
So simple. So brilliant. So romantic. Yes. It would do just fine.
Sunset was well-read. She would understand the little wordplay. She’d get it, with few words spoken, if any. And to present this to her, surely it would light up Wallflower’s days too. But flowers could only go so far, Wallflower was aware, even as she neatly tied the bouquet in a lovely pink ribbon to finish off. What good would they do if Sunset did not know the heart and care poured into them? She wasn’t a gardener. This was one thing she had no way of knowing.
So once she’d finished, Wallflower put them aside and gripped a pen, in her mouth, as an earthpony had to do. An earthpony, doing this for one of the most gifted unicorns in the world, possibly the most gifted. Writing wasn’t her forte, but for tonight it would have to do.
Pen clenched between her teeth, a blank page ready on the table, Wallflower set pen to paper. But the words, no matter how hard she tried, simply would not flow. There was so much she could say. There was also so little that she could write. All the books she’d read for school, and now she could hardly think of the right words when she needed them most.
What would Sunset say, though? Sunset had never needed anyone else. Sunset was Sunset. But Wallflower steeled herself. Sunset needed her, just as she needed her, too.
So she kept at it, as the night went on. As it proceeded, with draft after draft discarded, she finally settled for the simplest words, and perhaps the clearest of all. Forehooves feeling sore, exhausted, with a whole paper stack spent, Wallflower Blush beheld the simple words, across the last scrap of paper.
‘I love you.’
It wasn’t much. But it could be enough. Sunset Shimmer needed her.
… Now, all she had to do was wait.
* * * * *
As Wallflower was to find out, she did not need to wait for long. Two days after the ink had dried on the tiny scrap of paper, Wallflower had come home from school, the precious bouquet tucked in her saddlebags, from which she’d only periodically yet always secretively retrieved it to provide Sun and water. She’d practiced all two days’ long how she’d tell Sunset the words. If this failed her, the scrap of paper was hidden within the beautiful flowers.
Then her eyes fell upon Sunset Shimmer, standing off to the corner of the flower shop, and Wallflower felt her heart sink. Sunset’s mane was frazzled, eyes downcast. Even the luster in her cutie mark seemed to have gone away, as she wandered back and forth near her usual spot.
It ached Wallflower. Her bouquet still tucked away, she approached Sunset. Except, just as she was to greet her, the other filly turned to look at her first.
“Wallflower?” she began. Wallflower’s ears perked up.
“Yes?” replied Wallflower. Their eyes met. Sunset’s eyes were bloodshot, and that gave Wallflower a moment’s pause.
“Am I good enough?” asked Sunset. Her tail swished, hoof lightly tapping the ground. She sighed, just as Wallflower was about to answer. “Nevermind. It’s stupid.”
“No! No it isn’t,” said Wallflower hurriedly.
It was now or never. Yet this was so unlike Sunset. For once, the older girl didn’t seem older to Wallflower at all. She felt shrunk, vulnerable, her usual fire dimmed, and she’d spoken like one much younger, hurt and confused.
“What happened, Sunset?”
“More what I didn’t do,” said Sunset. “It’s like I try, okay? I do everything that she asks of me. I ace every lesson, every spell, every trial. That crown, I know I deserve it I– but it’s just never enough! I know it isn’t. What am I doing wrong? I just don’t get it.”
The words came out in a stream, before either Sunset could stop herself, or Wallflower could follow up. Her chest still heaving, Sunset rested herself on the floor, audibly huffing.
“And then there’s Cadance,” she said. “Cadance, all pink and sweet and perfect and argh, what did she do? What has she got that I haven’t got? She wasn’t, she wasn’t even born with that horn!”
So heated was Sunset, spittle flying from her mouth and face contorted in barely restrained fury, that Wallflower found little to say. Emotions as intense as these had always left her tongue-tied. But she did not reach up to pull her hat down, nor did Sunset move a muscle.
“... Do you, do you hate Cadance?” Wallflower asked gently. “I’m- I’m sorry but–”
Sunset blinked. “Hate her?” she repeated. “How could I ever hate her? It’s just that she’s so naive and oblivious and kind, just another orphan girl who thought she could make it big here, because the Princess told her so! She has everything I wanted, all the titles and all the futures she could ever ask for.”
She let herself laugh. Short, bitter.
“But I can’t hate her. I just can’t. I felt sorry for her, and always will no matter how many inane questions she asks me every day, Sunset this and Sunset that! I can answer them all, every one of them. When all I want to know is, what did she ever do to deserve it, and what I just need to do to ever be enough for Mom.”
“Sunset–”
Wallflower was cut off by a vibrant glow from Sunset’s horn. All around them, candles flickered, flower pots rattled. And then one by one, the thickest books Wallflower had ever seen emerged from the saddlebags Sunset wore.
Antique spell tomes. Atlases. An old brown notebook with scribbled writing all over it.
“All of them. Levitation. Teleportation. Laws older than the land. How to treat with griffons. Every spell in the book, every law written, every stupid little country on the map, I memorised all of them. But it’s not enough!”
With a shrill cry, she slammed the books onto the floor. So forceful was the impact that the windows rattled and clouds of dust were thrown in the air. And Wallflower could do nothing but look at her angered friend, while she was petrified, unable to utter a single word.
“What’s the stupid point, anyway?” Sunset said, her voice shaky. She sniffled. “Why am I even– why am I even bothering, when nothing I do will ever be good enough for her?”
Sunset shook her head, gritting her teeth to the point of clicking. Tears had streamed down both her cheeks, but Wallflower dared not to question it, as she shivered at the sight of her.
“Whatever. It's stupid. Stupid, all of this is just so, so stupid.”
She got up to leave. The chance had slipped. Just as the door swung open, the bell ringing, Wallflower cried out. “Wait– Sunset!”
Sunset froze. She looked back at Wallflower, one hoof on the door.
“I…” Wallflower said. Just as quickly as her courage came, it left her.
‘Tell her,’ the tiny voice within told Wallflower. ‘Tell her now.’
But Sunset's question, with all its pain, its despair, resounded in her mind. The two of them remained standing there for what felt like an eternity. The Sun was setting soon. Appropriately.
… Who was she, to tell Sunset Shimmer of such silly things like love, what probably amounted to no more than a schoolgirl crush, in the here and now?
Sunset needed her. And help her she would.
“... I don’t think it’s stupid,” said Wallflower. Her knees felt weak, her voice trembled. “B–Because whatever you are, whatever they say you are, it doesn’t change anything. You’re you.”
Tell her. Tell her.
Wallflower took a deep breath.
“I don’t know anything about Cadance or Blueblood, or what they or anyone else thinks about you and your dreams. But I care,” she said. “You matter, Sunset. You’re the toughest, cleverest pony I know, you’re never afraid of speaking your mind and… and you’re good enough for me. You deserve the best, whatever it means to you.”
She mustered a smile. A tiny, feeble smile, but a smile nonetheless.
“You’re Sunset. That’s good enough.”
Silence fell and lingered. Neither of them spoke a word. Sunset looked at Wallflower, mouth opening and closing in swift succession. A thousand words streamed through Wallflower’s head. All of them evaporated as Sunset’s eyes met hers. Those beautiful blue eyes, glistening in the light of the Sun.
“... Thanks, Wallflower. For everything,” Sunset said. Her lips curled into a tiny, prideful smirk. “Take care of yourself.”
With a ring of the bell and bustle of the chimes, she exited and closed the door behind her, leaving Wallflower all alone in the flower shop, with only what was left of Sunset’s books by her. The scrap of paper remained hidden and unread within the bouquet, the bouquet concealed inside her saddlebags, and Wallflower could not take her eyes off the door for a long time.
* * * * *
The next day, Sunset Shimmer did not come to the flower shop. Nor did she come the day after that, or the day after that.
Wallflower hadn’t noticed it at first. Her friend had been busy, after all. Perhaps Sunset was settling things with her mother, just as Wallflower would with her own parents. Her schoolwork remained as tedious as ever, yet therein lay her attention over many days.
Then came the Princess, and Cadance with her.
So sudden was their visit to the shop, that neither her father or mother had gotten dressed for the occasion, Wallflower recalled. She’d come home from school that day, unsure of what to make of the textbooks Sunset had left behind. No matter, though. Sunset would be coming for them soon. She had to be.
Perhaps in hindsight, Wallflower ought to have noticed the ‘Closed’ sign was in the door earlier than usual. Or that certain figures were in there, standing in front of the cash register.
Her parents stood side by side, talking to their customers. Her mother was taking the lead this time while her father fiddled with his hat, looking quite lost. He paused, just as Wallflower caught sight of them once she’d entered.
“Oh– Wallflower!” her father called out. “The Princess, she’s here to see you.”
All eyes turned to Wallflower. She gulped.
The Princess of the Sun stood far taller than most ponies, this much Wallflower knew. Yet here, where she stood so tall as to nearly touch the ceiling, it felt different. Celestia looked down from high above, just like she had done on the day Cadance was revealed. But now, despite the presence of others, it was for an audience of one, and her magenta gaze turned towards Wallflower and Wallflower alone.
How she did not faint, nor pull her hat down until it swallowed her, Wallflower could hardly tell. Perhaps it was seeing Cadance there, off to the side of Celestia, which comforted her somewhat.
“Cadance– oh, um, Princess Celestia, Your Majesty, um,” said Wallflower. Before either the Princess or Cadance could reply, she’d reached into her saddlebags, to withdraw the lightest book Sunset had brought – the notebook. “Sunset left this a–and her other books here…”
Her voice trailed off as she took in the sight of Cadance. Still pretty and lovely as ever... Yet her gaze was shadowed, haunted, her wings hung limply against her sides, and that warm smile of hers was gone.
She looked at Wallflower with forlorn eyes.
“Wallflower, Sunset ran away from home,” said Cadance. “She left in the night. I’m, I’m so sorry.”
It didn’t sound right. It certainly shouldn’t be right. Perhaps it was a lie. Yes, that was it. Or it couldn’t be. Surely the Princess and Cadance wouldn’t lie. Let alone both at the same time.
No words left Wallflower’s mouth. Nothing. No thought worth saying. No words worth uttering. Nothing of any worth.
Only the plain, simple, evident truth. That Sunset Shimmer was no longer here. No longer...
“Honey, are you okay?” her father asked. He’d come over to her, putting a hoof on her shoulder. His face’s creases were all too evident, now, his aging eyes staring deep into Wallflower’s own. Wallflower nodded numbly.
“I… I’m– yeah, I’m fine, Dad,” she stammered. Her legs felt stiff, her chest tightened. Then the Princess came forwards.
“Wallflower Blush?” the Princess said softly. Wallflower nodded.
And without further prompting, one by one she withdrew Sunset’s textbooks. Best that she make it quick. The less she thought of it, the better.
She paused upon setting her eyes on the last one. The old notebook.
“Can– can I keep this one?” asked Wallflower. She regretted her words almost immediately. “I– I’m sorry. I promise I won’t read it. I just…”
Words failed her then. She ought to say more. Cadance deserved as much. But before she could begin to apologise, she felt a wing stroke her back.
“I understand,” said the Princess. Wallflower looked up, to see her smile. Yet like so many of Sunset’s, this smile didn’t reach her eyes. Those mourning kind eyes. And, for a brief moment, they looked so, so much older.
The Princess’s horn lit up, levitating Sunset’s books into the saddlebags Cadance wore.
“Thank you, Wallflower,” said the Princess. “I’m sure Sunset would appreciate you taking care of it while she’s away.”
Such simple words to say. Grown-ups always had a way with words, hiding how they felt beneath mountains and mountains of decorum and sweet-talk.
It all went by like a blur. The Princess departed with traditional, composed elegance, or with elegant composure, yet Wallflower could see the stiffness in her gait. Cadance, at the very least, offered more than a simple goodbye when she stood there at the door.
“It’ll be alright,” said Cadance. “If you need to talk, I’m around. I miss her too.”
Wallflower said nothing, offering only a nod and a quick nuzzle. The same went for her parents, long after the Princess and Cadance had left.
“It’s okay, honey,” said her father. They’d grouped together for a nuzzle then, even her mother, who never did feel all that comfortable with physical intimacy. “We’re here, we’re here…”
Nothing was out of the ordinary, for the rest of the day. Nothing at all. Dinner would follow, as it always did. She volunteered for dish-duty right after.
Anything to take her mind off. Nothing more to think of. Nothing, nothing...
At last, once the Sun had fully set she plopped down onto her bed, exhaustion overtaking her. Not once did Wallflower give the bouquet or the notebook a second glance, as her tears stained her pillow long into the night.
* * * * *
The seasons passed. The Sun and Moon moved across the skies, one after the other. Life went on.
Moving up the school years was nothing new. The lessons were merely a touch more complex. Mathematics was as frustrating as ever, yet she managed the numbers decently, thanks to help from her mother. At the very least, the library remained open, and the books she borrowed never grew any more tiresome as company. The faces changed just as often. Circles opened and closed periodically. The gardening club was a welcome activity, one where Wallflower, in her teenage years, belatedly discovered she needn’t be as invisible as she’d feared.
And remarkably, when Wallflower moved to higher education, she once again crossed paths with Princess Cadance, at Canterlot University.
Nevertheless, much as Wallflower had wished to keep in touch with Cadance, it remained that the young Princess was older than she, and somehow, this gap was one Wallflower found harder to paper over than she ever had with Sunset. Least of all that by the time Wallflower entered Canterlot University, Cadance was a year away from graduating. Still, it never hurt to greet Cadance from time to time, on those occasions they passed one another in the halls. It was probably thanks to Cadance, too, that Wallflower survived her first university year.
Then Cadance left one day, and Wallflower was all alone. The graduation had been an inevitability. Wherever Cadance went with that handsome fiancé of hers, a white stallion of a unicorn like only Canterlot could manufacture, Wallflower wished nought but the best for her.
Speaking of white stallions, she heard little of Blueblood. Only that he’d garnered quite the reckless reputation, flying and at times crashing sky-boats out in the wild blue yonder. That's what Cadance told her at least.
The Princess of the Sun found another student, naturally. A small filly Cadance had babysat, one out of many amongst the Canterlot gentry. Wallflower didn’t care much for this Twilight Sparkle, just another bookworm from what she’d seen of her playing with Cadance. And little Twilight was never one to visit flower shops.
Wallflower didn’t mind. No-one could fill that empty spot by the flower-pot shelves. No-one, no matter how long she waited, even long after she’d accepted that no more would the fiery mane nor hide of Sunset Shimmer be seen here again.
But the little flower shop was never far from Wallflower’s thoughts, either. Neither her father nor mother were getting any younger. Her father carried fewer and fewer crates, her mother let numbers slip more often than she once did. It wasn't before long that the matter of selling the family shop was brought up.
So when a good few years later, the time came for them to move to Seaward Shoals, Wallflower Blush had her answer at the ready.
* * * * *
“Got everything sorted out, honey? Did you pack your books?”
Standing there at the station platform, on the last train of the day out from Seaward Shoals, Wallflower flashed her father a bright smile matched only by his own. “I got ’em, Dad, first things in the bag.”
Her mother scoffed, lightly. “Remember to keep track of your finances, Wallflower. You won’t have us around there.”
“Mom, we went through this, like, five times already. I got it, don’t worry,” Wallflower answered.
Neither seemed convinced. Slowly, her father shuffled over to her, clearing his throat. His age had finally caught up to him, and after one tumble too many he’d taken to using a cane.
“Wallflower,” he began, quite in earnest. “I–if you change your mind, you can always write to us.”
“Running a shop is no easy task,” her mother added. “Your father and I know that well.”
“Aw, Mom, Dad, come on,” chided Wallflower. “Literature was never gonna give me much anyway. I’ll be fine. Really. I promise.”
Even as the words left her lips, that small nagging doubt remained. Perhaps she ought to have pursued academia further. Right until this moment, the door had remained open for her to return to university easily, should she change her mind about shouldering the family business. Her friends at the gardening club had wondered how she could turn down a scholarship to Oleander. Half-jokingly, Wallflower had reminded Roseluck that she herself was moving to Ponyville of all places.
The little flower shop was the first and only home Wallflower had known. Selling it, as far as she was concerned and no matter what either of her parents told her, was never an option.
“Okay,” said her father, moving to adjust her hat as he once would his own, “You best be safe. The Summer Sun Celebration’s coming very soon.”
“Oh, I’m sure this year’ll be fun, Dad,” said Wallflower. “The thousandth year–”
The train’s horn interrupted her thoughts. It was time.
Before Wallflower could say anything further, her father had thrown his hooves around her, as her mother too joined them in an embrace.
It was her mother that spoke, softly, above the sniffles of her father. “Take care, and do stay in touch, Wallflower. We’ll miss you.”
“I will. I’ll miss you guys too,” whispered Wallflower. “I’ll take good care, I promise…”
The train left the station soon after. Wallflower waved out the window for the longest time, till her parents and Seaward Shoals were no more than pinpricks in the distance.
The Summer Sun Celebration was always a busy occasion. A thousand-year milestone, arbitrary though she felt it was, was still a very well-anticipated affair, one thus liable to bring good sales.
Yet Wallflower pushed this thought aside, while she looked over the old notebook in her grip. Scrawled all over by a filly’s hornwriting, it had remained unopened for all of the ten years she’d held onto it. Tempting as it was to open it up, it'd only be right if she were to return it unblemished, one day...
Holding the notebook close to her chest, Wallflower leaned her head against the window.
Perhaps Sunset had taken a train too, so long ago. Where she may have gone, Wallflower could not tell, for the world was vast and never did word come back of her. Maybe it had, in truth, never been any more than a schoolgirl crush, where all along she was a mere flower on the wall, hers no greater a purpose than to soak in the woes and joys of a girl that shone so bright.
Yet as she closed her eyes for the long trip home, all Wallflower could wish for was that Sunset Shimmer might have found her peace somewhere out there, far and away from all the pressures, the burdens of the ivory palace.