“God damn it!” Sunset cursed, kicking the tree in front of her with her forelegs back at her camp in the Everfree. The mistiness in her eyes was not from the dust she’d just kicked up. “How could I let one god damn comment get to me like this? What the hell is wrong with me?!”
Sunset knew what was wrong with her. She was naturally hot-tempered, as proven by the screaming matches she’d had with Celestia before her exile, but she’d discovered on the other side of the mirror that a temper was something that could be exploited, so she’d learned to be cold instead.
She’d hardened her heart to become the pony that she was today, and she was damn proud of it.
Only… it wasn’t true any more. She could feel it. Ever since her connection to the Crystal Heart had been torn free, her once calloused and weathered heart was raw and throbbing, which was an uncomfortable level of physicalness to ascribe to such a metaphysical concept.
She didn’t very much like not having control of her thoughts and feelings—or the idea that they were the result of something that could be manipulated, bled, burned or broken.
Those were all supposed to be metaphors. She was no bleeding heart, god damn it, but now it was her heart that was bleeding.
Worse, it made her much more skittish of trying to do something similar with the magics of the Everfree. All of her efforts to open herself up to the forest were trepid and hesitant—and not entirely by choice. There was a none too small, visceral part of her that was terrified of being burned again, and that was a problem.
Ironically, her renewed sensitivity had made it so much easier to let herself get swept up in the whole totally-a-reformed-student act, only now it had turned out to be a liability even for that.
Sunset lit her horn and dropped a sun the size of a pony into the ground just outside of the cave she’d been using for shelter. The dirt instantly ablated and the rock hissed and popped as it melted. She was able to keep it up for a solid minute before she collapsed from the effort, leaving a bubbling crater that was too hot to even approach.
That was fine; she couldn’t have moved to do so even if she’d wanted to. Completely spent, she tried to pretend that the warmth from her little temper tantrum could fill the hole in her left by the Crystal Heart.
It couldn’t.
It was dark and the stars were out by the time Sunset Shimmer awoke from her self-inflicted exhaustion. Annoyingly, her first thought was that she had missed Pinkie Pie’s party. She immediately corrected herself, because it was really Pinkie Pie’s party that was missing her and she could clearly derive some vindictive spite from having ruined something that the simple-minded mare had been invested in, but frankly…
Her heart wasn’t in it.
Somewhere nearby, a cricket was chirping and Sunset's ear twitched.
Something felt off.
Still groggy and sore from her exertion, Sunset pushed herself up to a sitting position, holding her head—and that was when she felt it.
No.
That was impossible.
She was wearing a party hat.
A quick, panicked look around revealed no sign of anypony else nearby, but plenty of signs that she’d been pinked. The entire cave, which was more of a wide overhang in the cliffside a few ponies deep, had been done up with balloons, streamers and every kind of party decoration imaginable. There was even a table piled completely solid with food, desserts and even a punch bowl that looked like it was still cold.
Completely bewildered, she walked blankly in, taking in what had to be at least a cartload of supplies that had been set up without waking her.
The moment she crossed the actual threshold into the cave, several rapid pops echoed out and there was suddenly confetti everywhere.
Sunset cringed, expecting dozens of ponies to pop out of nowhere and yell, ‘surprise!’ at her, but aside from the pops and the barely there whisper of confetti in the air, everything was completely silent.
Slowly, Sunset opened her eyes back up and looked around, confirming that, yes, she was still alone.
Looking down at her hooves, she realized that she’d stepped on a pink, glittery tripwire attached to the confetti cannons.
Shaking her head, she stepped over the wire and went back to looking—and then there was silly string all over everything and the wheezing of several balloons let loose. Sure enough, there was a second tripwire of thin, dirt-brown thread one step past the first.
“Oh my god,” she said, bringing her hoof up to her rapidly flushing face.
If there was any consolation, it was that after two jumpscares Sunset was pretty sure that she was actually alone.
Still, she double and triple checked for another tripwire or any other surprises, but all she found was a small card on the table with the food.
“Hey Sunset,” she read.
“We’re super-duper sorry that Dashie was mean to you, so here’s a cake.
“Your new friend,
“Pinkie Pie.”
Sunset let out an involuntary snort of laughter. It was so… simple and stupid that she couldn’t even mock it. How was she supposed to be sarcastic when, ‘sorry we were mean, so here’s cake,’ was what it actually said.
Admittedly, it was some pretty good cake, so there was that. Boston cream was her favorite.
“This is so pathetic,” she said, not specifying whether she was deriding the childish decorations or herself as she licked chocolate off the plastic ring from the cake.
In hindsight, Sunset hadn’t given Pinkie Pie enough credit, either as a baker or as a party planner. Normally, planning was one of the last words that she would have associated with the spontaneous mare, but those tripwires told a different story, and as Sunset moved on to get some punch before it turned into a watered down mess, it became clear just how devious the seemingly simple mare could be.
It was the complete silence that did it. There was no phonograph off in the corner playing upbeat music or the sounds of a crowd, or the quiet hum of a refrigerator where she could put all this food that she couldn’t eat. Well, she could kind of blame all of that on there not being electricity run to her little cave in the Everfree, but it also made the whole scene entirely more creepy than it would normally have been.
It was designed to make her lonely, and she couldn’t even blame the fact that it was working on her bleeding heart. The fact was, being alone sucked. Hiding away in a forest with nopony around for miles wasn’t what she did. It wasn’t like her and she didn’t like it.
When she went to parties, she was the center of attention; the one wearing the crown.
And damn it, she couldn’t have asked for a better place to stalk Twilight from than right across the street from the library.
Ugh, fine. Maybe she would consider going back—but not right now. She still had cake to eat.
She blinked.
And presents to open. Right. This was supposed to be a house-warming party, wasn’t it? How had she missed that?
A minute later, she was staring down at a newly unwrapped blender.
An electric blender.
In spite of everything, the food spoilage issue, at least, was not unsolvable by Sunset. Cutie marks weren’t video game elements, so her propensity for setting things on fire didn’t mean that freezing things wasn’t cool too. Actually, for certain types of spells, there was barely any difference.
Sunset was just trying to decide where and how to set up the thermal transfer spell when she smelled something foul.
“Oh, come on!” Sunset groused, stomping over to the table of food. “What could possibly have gone bad in less than an hour?”
The answer was: Nothing. Nothing on the table had gone bad, nor had any durian or other highly contentiously pungent food or prank item been snuck in. In fact, remembering to use her nose properly, which she still forgot to do after spending so long as a human, she was fairly sure that the smell wasn’t coming from the food table at all.
Unfortunately for her, the fetid stench only got sharply stronger in the moment after the timberwolf’s teeth sank deep into her haunch.
“Aaauuugh!” she cried out, only managing to teleport out from beneath the wooden jaws before they clamped down completely and began to tear because teleporting away had become her go-to snap-reaction to problems since returning to Equestria.
She didn’t think looking innocent and giving the timberwolf puppy-dog eyes would have been nearly as effective at saving her life.
Still, even as she reappeared on the other side of the wide-mouthed cave, Sunset’s back left leg gave out completely the moment she put any weight on it. “F-F-F-Fuck!” she cursed, barely managing to remain standing as the injured leg curled up against her barrel.
There were three of them that she could see, and though they might have been attracted by the scent of the food on the table, she was the food that had their full attention now.
They were going to regret that.
Probably.
Maybe.
The truth was, Sunset knew plenty of magic, but she had never actually been in a fight with it. What experience she did have, she had gotten as a human and it had involved fighting dirty against human males.
It was barely enough to keep her from getting attacked from behind a second time, and she shot several blasts off with her horn in retaliation that seemed to do very little.
On the bright side, not even Sunset’s empathetic heart had any problem with escalating against what was basically the uppity wild magics of the forest getting ideas above its station.
…
Briefly—very briefly—Sunset considered what she could learn from the timberwolves that would help her on the way to her ascension, but the pain in her leg and the sticky sensation of the blood in her fur quickly reminded her that she had bigger things to worry about right now.
She could chase down some magical stick puppies later when she wasn’t bleeding out.
In fact… Why did she need to stick around at all? She had come here from Ponyville in a single chain of teleports and nothing but her waning ability to concentrate was keeping her from just running away.
Except… that had been a really nice blender. And she hadn’t even tried half of the pastries. She was Sunset Shimmer, damn it, and Sunset Shimmer would not just roll over and let a bunch of sticks playing pretend rut though her camp and ruin her things.
It had nothing to do with the fact that passing out halfway to Ponyville would have been an even worse idea than staying to fight.
Sunset carefully backed away from the timberwolves, putting the side of the wide-mouthed cave behind her to prevent herself from getting attacked from behind again. She was tempted to just light up her sun spell again and show them who they were dealing with, but there was no telling how long it would actually take to scare them off for good that way and, again, she didn’t want to pass out from exhaustion again when she was bleeding so badly. It was very likely that if she did, then she wouldn’t ever wake up.
Unfortunately for Sunset, discounting her first reaction meant that she was spoilt for choice. She was a planner, not somepony who made snap decisions, and all she really knew about timberwolves was that fire was probably a good bet.
Yeah, that didn’t narrow it down any.
If her shield spells were better, she would have preferred to box them in and watch them burn, but… they weren’t. Defensive spells in general had never been her forté. In fact, it was a miracle that she was as good at teleportation as she was—but come on; it was teleportation. Who wouldn’t practice it any chance they could get? It had paid itself off in just the first year in cookies stolen and ponies framed because she’d ‘been on the other side of the courtyard this whole time!’
A testing nip from one of the timberwolves brought Sunset back to the present, very aware of just how little space she had left. In fact, they were even backing off slightly.
They were getting ready to pounce, weren’t they?
They were getting ready to pounce.
Sunset cursed. All she needed was a solution, not a perfect one! Unfortunately, while fire was no doubt the answer, even dry wood took some effort to light, and the timberwolves were mossy, dirty and half rotten. A few bits were even green with new growth.
In the end, it was the sheer hate and vindictiveness for being put in her current situation that finally gave Sunset an idea. She had just asked herself what the absolute worst thing she could do to these poor excuses for topiary was, and it had come to her like a bolt from the blue.
Napalm. The answer was napalm. If the timberwolves had had any sense of self-preservation, the sudden grin on Sunset’s face would have sent them running then and there. They did not, however, and so they pounced—and Sunset took that chance to teleport behind them, turning the tables on them.
Of course, there was no spell that Sunset Shimmer had ever heard of to create napalm, and even if there was, the creation of a physical substance wouldn’t be entirely within her wheelhouse just because it was something that burned.
Entirely magical sticky gobs of fire, though?
Those were something she could just whip up on the fly—and she did.
The timberwolves did not enjoy it, and Sunset knew that she would never be able to use that spell in the presence of another pony.
Those were two entirely separate, unrelated points, mind. Her reluctance to let anypony see the spell had nothing to do with the fact that it was a war crime and everything to do with the fact that a spell for spraying a sticky, white (hot) substance from her horn was not something she wanted to be known for.
Or something she wanted to be wanted for, she supposed. The war crime thing was honestly a good point too.
It was only as she watched the three burning timberwolves run off into the forest dripping fire that she considered that maybe it just hadn’t been the best choice of spell in general.
Well, whatever. The Everfree wasn’t going to burn down from just one spell, and if it did, then maybe she’d inherit its powers that way?
Then again, she should probably do something about all this blood loss before she went around signing away the movie rights to her ascension.
“Woah,” Rainbow Dash said. “You don’t think—”
“No, Rainbow,” Twilight interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose in the crook of her hoof. “I very much doubt that Princess Celestia killed Sunset’s parents.”
“Well, then what—”
“The princess essentially adopted her,” Twilight reminded her. “Dismissing her as her student… Princess Celestia did essentially disown her and kick her out on the street.”
“Pff,” Rainbow Dash scoffed. “Whatever.”
“Okay—what the hell, Rainbow?!” Twilight said, angily turning on her friend.
“What?” Rainbow Dash said, seemingly surprised by Twilight’s reaction. “It’s not like—”
“Not like what, Rainbow? Not like she’s a pony who deserves the slightest amount of consideration for her feelings when she’s clearly lived a hard life.”
“Oh come on!” Rainbow Dash shouted. “You don’t actually believe any of that crap about her suddenly being ‘reformed’ any more than I do!”
“Of course not!” Twilight snapped back. “That doesn’t make it okay to rub her nose in her mistakes!”
“Somepony thinking they deserve immortality just because the princess taught them a few things isn’t just ‘a mistake!’” Rainbow Dash insisted.
That…
That hurt.
“…Is that what you really think?” she finally asked, her voice weak and trembling.
“Uh, yeah?” Rainbow Dash said, confused before her brain caught up with her mouth. “Not you, obviously,” she said, quickly backpedaling. You’re, like, Princess Cadance’s sister reborn and stuff!”
Somehow, that didn’t exactly soothe Twilight’s feelings. “Oh, so it’s okay because of some quirk of luck that we don’t even understand and can’t actually prove, but if Pr—if Celestia hadn’t been lying to me, then I guess having the audacity to actually think that I deserved something would be a problem?”
“If the princess had been lying to you, then you’d be an alicorn because you created new magic!” Rainbow Dash said, growing exasperated.
“Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?!” Twilight shouted back in anger.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Rarity said, placing a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder, hoping to calm her down. “Darling, you know that our dear Rainbow Dash has a tendency to put her hoof in her mouth. I’m sure she doesn’t have any objection to your situation.”
“Of course not!” Rainbow Dash agreed.
“Well, I guess that's what happens when you have double standards,” Twilight bitterly responded, wiping the moisture out of her eyes.
“Oh, for Celestia’s sake!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, throwing up her hooves. “You two are nothing alike! Just because you were both the princess’ student doesn’t mean squat! She’s the enemy! Next, you’re gonna say we should try and get along with Discord!”
“Yes, Rainbow Dash,” Twilight acerbically replied. “That was kind of implied when we decided to leave him free.”
“Tell me you’re not serious,” Rainbow Dash said. “He’s Discord! Even if he’s behaving for now, he’s just going to end up going back to his old ways eventually.”
“Well, maybe he won’t if you actually give him a chance!” Twilight said.
“And now you’re just playing Discord’s advocate,” Rainbow Dash complained.
“I’m not playing,” Twilight insisted. “I am advocating for Discord. And Sunset. And Chrysalis. And Luna. You can’t treat somepony like they’re less than a person just because they’ve been in the wrong.”
Rainbow Dash gestured her lack of belief in what she was hearing. “There’s no ‘just’ about it,” she said. “Except in ‘justice.’ That’s how it works. Somepony does something bad and they get punished for it!”
“There’s no ‘justice’ in making fun of somepony for having to live on the street.”
“That isn’t even what I said!” Rainbow Dash complained.
“Okay, that really is enough,” Rarity said, interrupting again. “Twilight, please. Rainbow may have been indelicate, but it was one comment. Surely it isn’t worth all this.”
Twilight took a breath and looked away from Rainbow Dash. “It only takes one comment to hurt somepony. That she ran away says a lot—especially since it’s her.”
“Yes, well, Rainbow Dash is going to have to deal with that,” Rarity said, sending Rainbow Dash a disapproving look. “Starting with explaining herself to somepony.”
“The princess?” Rainbow Dash scoffed. “Maybe the fact that Sunset ran off will get her to open her eyes.”
“Her too,” Rarity said, thoughtful. “But I was actually referring to telling Pinkie Pie why her ‘welcome to Ponyville’ party isn’t going to have a pony to welcome.”
“…Oh.”
Twilight was still mildly annoyed after everypony else had left, but at least part of it was directed at herself for turning that into an argument. That part of it, at least, had been entirely her fault, and probably wasn’t behavior befitting a princess.
Still, though. She’d meant what she’d said. She’d never thought that she’d have defended Discord like that and she’d thrown Chrysalis in just for shock value, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true.
Even if you hated somepony, they were still a pony.
The fact that she had not actually been planning on giving Discord a chance until he had made her laugh and actually listened to her was suddenly something that she was not especially proud of.
She still wouldn’t have insulted him right to his face, though.
“And now she’s probably back in the Everfree doing who knows what?” Twilight remarked to no one as she took a second look at the terrible state of the second floor of Sunset’s probably-not-a-bakery.
Would she come back?
It only took Twilight a moment to come to the conclusion that yes, she would. She would have to. Sunset had sent that letter to the princess gushing about her new place, so if she wanted to continue the whole ‘returning student of the princess studying friendship’ act, she was going to have to actually live here and try to make friends.
Twilight glanced in the direction of the bathroom and shuddered. Entirely ignoring the question of whether or not what Sunset was doing actually counted as making friends, it was hard imagining anypony living here.
The very idea made her skin crawl.
Somepony was going to have to do something about that.
Given that everypony else had managed to have some excuse to be somewhere else, she supposed that that was going to have to be her.
Admittedly, breaking the news about a canceled party to Pinkie Pie was a pretty good excuse, but it was probably still preferable to… this.
Well, it was probably for the best. Rarity was Rarity and any of their other friends would have to actually get their hooves dirty, which was as distasteful as it sounded.
For a moment, Twilight considered just calling it quits herself and calling in professional help. It was what Princess Celestia would do, and the princess would certainly pay for it. Nopony actually expected Equestria’s newest princess to scrub toilets.
Sunset would have done it, though; she hadn’t even balked at the idea. If the princess’ prideful, entitled student could do it then so could she.
It actually turned out to be an interesting challenge. Rather than spend the rest of the afternoon tracking down tools and cleaning products, she decided to do the job entirely with magic—and in order to not spend the rest of the afternoon tracking down cleaning spells, she decided to make do with the magic she already knew.
She did not, as it turned out, actually know a great many cleaning spells, nor was she all that good at coming up with new ones from scratch, but combining and applying her existing repertoire in new and interesting ways? That she could do, and she came away from the experience with some intriguing results.
Placing a shield spell between the wood and something she wanted to vaporize? Possible, but impractically difficult.
Actually magically vaporizing things? Also possible, but ventilation required.
Accidentally inhaling a decade’s worth of accumulated bird droppings? Not recommended.
What was really fascinating, though, was what happened when she decided to use a small, localized gravity well to collect loose material.
She already knew, of course, that her alicorn magic would cause spells to build in power over time and persist beyond the point that she ceased feeding them magic, but what she hadn’t actually considered was exactly how the numbers would work if she continually lowered her magical input as the alicorn magic built up.
Instead of allowing the spell to grow more and more powerful and subsequently take forever to actually go away, she ended up with a manageable gravity well that she only needed to feed a trickle of power to maintain and was still under her control.
She supposed that was how Princess Celestia and Princess Luna made moving celestial objects seem easy; they had long since built up the persistent alicorn magic they needed in order to do so and it just… stayed there, for the most part. Obviously, the fact that it was their special talent factored into it as well, but with enough time, even that probably wouldn’t be much of a hurdle—which would be how Princess Celestia had been able to move the moon during Princess Luna’s banishment.
It was fascinating enough that for a short while she forgot about what it was that she was actually doing experiments with—until she didn’t.
Hastily, she vaporized the clump of detritus that was caught in her little gravity well. She even remembered to hold her breath that time.
That was pretty much how it went. She tried various things on various problems, stringing her little gravity well along like a balloon. Restoring the water-damaged wood was relatively simple using the same process she had gone through downstairs, and all in all, she was rather proud of her results by the time it was dark. She doubted that a dozen professionals could have done it so quickly.
Her pride, of course, fell a little flat when she went back downstairs and found only a barren, empty room instead of any sort of party—not that she had expected anything else, but it was understandable that she would feel a bit unfulfilled when the pony who was supposed to be living there was still missing.
Well, ‘missing,’ with massive sarcasm quotes. She was probably out there right now working to undermine Twilight and her magic. No matter what Rarity’s excuse for forcing her to live in the city, Sunset Shimmer’s safety was probably the last thing that any of them needed to worry about. She was a powerful unicorn with fire for a special talent.
She’d be fine.
Twilight couldn’t help it. The first thing she did the next morning was look out the window to see if there was any sign of Sunset across the street.
There wasn’t, of course, and she was able to wait until after breakfast to head over and make sure that Sunset hadn’t come in during the night without disturbing anything.
She hadn’t.
“I don’t know what I expected,” she told Spike with a sigh as they came down from the second floor of Sunset’s place empty-hooved.
“Ehh,” Spike said, unconcerned. “She probably won’t be back for a few days, after she can just Rainbow Dash it and pretend nothing happened.”
Twilight gave it a thought and agreed, “That sounds about right.”
Just then, she opened the door and was greeted by the absolute last thing that she had expected to see.
An irate princess.
An irate Princess Cadance.
“Um?” was all that Twilight could get out before her old foalsitter fixed her with an unamused glare.
“I do not appreciate receiving letters that I cannot respond to in kind,” she said, her eye twitching. “First, you’re going to take me to Sunset Shimmer so that I can give her a piece of my mind—then you’re going to show me how to cast that spell.”
Twilight rose her hoof to stop Cadance and opened her mouth. A moment later, the only response she could come up with was, “How did you get here in less than a day?”
“I flew over the Crystal Mountains,” Cadance flatly explained. “Now where is Sunset Shimmer?”
“…I’m fairly sure that showing up to yell at her while sleep deprived isn’t exactly going to go how you think, considering what was actually in that letter,” she pointed out.
“Sunset. Shimmer. Now,” Cadance growled, causing Twilight to back off.
“Err, well, the thing is…” Twilight hesitated. She didn’t actually have any reason to keep Sunset having run off a secret, but—well—she wasn’t exactly sure how Cadance would take it.
“Rainbow Dash was kind of a jerk to her and she stormed off,” Spike explained in the gap left by Twilight’s hesitation. “Seems kind of huffy if you ask me.”
“You weren’t there, Spike,” Twilight said, managing to distract herself from the irate princess in front of her for a moment.
“And whose fault is that?” he shot back.
“Yours, for sending that letter in the first place,” Twilight reminded him dryly. “I thought it’d be best not to have the temptation if you weren’t going to control yourself.”
“Oh sure, blame the messenger,” Spike groused.
“Anyway,” Twilight said, turning back to Cadance, who didn’t seem to have gotten any less angry. “He’s pretty much right; Sunset teleported off yesterday and we haven’t seen her since.
“Really?” Cadance asked.
Twilight’s, “Yes?” was rather unfortunately unconvincing, purely due to the sheer ire being directed her way.
“Really really?” Cadance asked again.
“Really really,” Twilight said, managing a proper level of conviction this time.
Cadance stared Twilight down for a distressingly long moment… then collapsed nearly on top of her.
“…Cadance?” Twilight asked, her voice muffled under the weight of the slightly taller alicorn.
Spike poked her and she began to snore.
Twilight struggled under the limp and floppy form of her old foalsitter for a moment until she could disentangle herself enough to properly levitate her.
“Bleah,” Twilight exclaimed, spitting hairs from Cadance’s mane out of her mouth. “Ptew. Fweh. Spike, get the door,” she said, gesturing across the street at the library.
“Got it!” Spike said, rushing across the street to do so, though once he did, he just stood there in the doorway.
“Out of the way, Spike!” she yelled as she came up behind him, but he didn’t move. It wasn’t until she was pushing her way past him that she could finally see why.
Lying there in the library, exactly where she had been the day before yesterday, was Sunset Shimmer.
A very bloody Sunset Shimmer with party streamers and strips of a polka-dot tablecloth wrapped around her flank.
There was a heavy thunk as Cadance hit the floor.
“Why am I on the floor?” Cadance asked, slurring her words and not actually moving to get up. “And how long has it been? Tartarus, I feel like I haven’t slept at all.”
“You haven't,” Spike told Cadance, answering her last question first. “It's been, like, thirty seconds, and Sunset Shimmer is bleeding out in the library.
Cadance jerked her head up at Spike’s last answer, though it wasn't clear if it was at ‘Sunset Shimmer’ or ‘bleeding out’—possibly both.
“She’s not bleeding out,” Twilight corrected, already at Sunset’s side, examining her while chewing at her lip with nervous energy. “But I’m a librarian, not a doctor. We need to get her to the hospital. This didn’t just happen, so there’s a good chance it’s infected. Party supplies aren’t exactly the ideal replacement for the medical variety.”
Twilight blinked.
“…Actually, why is she wrapped up like a Hearth’s Warming Day present?” she asked, pausing for a moment.
A gentle hoof rested itself on Twilight’s shoulders and Cadance whispered in her ear with a giggle, “Maybe she wants you to unwrap her.”
Twilight blinked again. “Okay, so you’re useless right now. That’s good to know, actually. Spike, get the door again,” she instructed, picking Sunset up in her magic. “And don’t stand in the way this time!”
The trip to the Ponyville General Hospital didn’t take very long, but Twilight still had to back off on her levitation a bit when she felt her magic building up.
Of course, carrying a bloody unicorn through the market in the middle of the morning didn’t exactly go unnoticed, but Twilight didn’t have any answers for the first pony to ask what had happened, so she didn’t have any answers for the next two dozen.
“Ohmygosh, what happened?” Rainbow Dash asked, following Twilight from above.
Instead of answering, Twilight’s eyes lit up with an idea and said, “Rainbow! Go ahead to the hospital and tell them I’m coming with an injured pony."
Rainbow Dash mock-saluted and was immediately gone.
Other than the questions that she couldn’t answer, the gallop to the hospital went smoothly and quickly, most ponies having enough sense to get out of her way, and it wasn’t long until Twilight had caught up with Rainbow Dash, who was standing out front with a couple of ponies and a wheeled stretcher.
Twilight wasted no time in setting Sunset down as gently as she could, but even with her efforts to moderate her magic on the way over, it still took an awkward couple of seconds for the levitation spell to actually dissipate. It wasn’t as if Sunset was in urgent danger where the extra few seconds would actually matter, but it certainly didn’t help the already anxious situation.
Twilight watched as the ponies cut away Sunset’s impromptu bandages and winced as she saw what the injury was before they wheeled her away—a bite low on her haunch, probably Timberwolves and probably infected.
On the bright side, it was at least below her cutie mark, so there was that.
“See something you like?” Cadance leered, suddenly there leaning on Twilight’s shoulder.
“Wait—is that what that was all about?” Rainbow Dash asked.
Twilight facehoofed.
Unfortunately, the hospital was disinclined to let Twilight sign Cadance into their care for acute exhaustion, sleep deprivation and annoying innuendo, so she had to suffer her queer mood all the way back to the library and Rainbow Dash wasn’t helping.
“All I’m saying is you could have just said so,” Rainbow Dash said. “I’d have understood!”
“For the last time,” Twilight said in a huff as they began to near the library. “I was looking at the bite—nothing else.”
“Uh-huh. Sure,” Rainbow Dash said, unconvinced.
“I still don’t get it,” Spike said. “What’s the big deal if you were looking at her cutie mark?”
“Wait,” Twilight said, suddenly realizing that Spike had followed her to the hospital. “You’re here? Did you at least lock the library up after us?”
The answer was immediately obvious when he glanced away. “Err…”
“Spike!” she chastised. “You know what happens when we leave the library door open!”
“…Ponies can still borrow books during business hours when we’re supposed to be open?” Spike suggested dryly.
“No,” Twilight said, stepping up beside the door and opening it without looking through. “It attracts annoying ponies.”
“Excuse me?” Rarity asked, standing over by the periodicals.
Twilight turned and poked her head through the door. “Oh, it’s just you. Sorry. False alarm, I guess.”
Rarity didn’t seem to know what to say to that, so she ignored it. “I heard from Applejack that something was going on,” she explained. “She had to watch the apple cart, but I came right over; what happened?”
“I found Sunset unconscious and bleeding in the alcove this morning,” Twilight explained in a hurry, entering the library, followed by Spike and Rainbow Dash. “Look—I dropped her off at the hospital and I need to get back there to see what they actually have to say about her condition so I have something to tell the princess. Could you take care of Cadance for me in the meantime? She hasn’t slept, so she’ll probably collapse again pretty soon, but until then, don’t listen to any of her lies.”
“…Princess Cadance, you say?” Rarity asked, possibly wondering if maybe it was Princess Twilight that hadn’t had any sleep.
Twilight looked around to confirm that, yes, she had lost Cadance somewhere along the way. Fortunately, a quick search found her just outside, so Twilight lifted her up with her magic and tossed her through the door in Rarity’s general direction. “Remember—don’t listen to anything she says!” Twilight shouted after her, then began making her way back to the hospital, calling for Spike to follow.
A minute later, the lack of flapping wings in her immediate vicinity clued her in to the fact that Rainbow Dash had stayed behind at the library with Cadance and Rarity.
It was going to be one of those days, wasn’t it?
Oh, who was she kidding? It already was.
In spite of her hurry, Twilight and Spike ended up having to wait at the hospital for any word on Sunset’s condition. Most of the waiting was spent debating whether or not she should send a letter to Princess Celestia with nothing more to say than, ‘Sunset is hurt,’ but given that she also hadn’t yet sent anything about Sunset running off in the first place, she figured that it could wait until they knew how bad it was.
Honestly, it could go either way. The actual bite and blood loss weren’t likely to be life threatening, but an infection from a timberwolf bite could be serious. Animal bites in general were not something to be brushed off and Timberwolves didn’t even have their own hygiene to worry about; they were just thorny, often rotting husks of wood with breath like swamp gas.
A small, unhelpful part of Twilight insisted that they had warned Sunset about the Everfree, but it was hard to claim they’d been serious, considering how often she and her friends were in and out of there on a weekly basis. Even Twilight’s own existentially terrifying experience with a cockatrice hadn’t deterred her for long, though it probably should have.
Admittedly, they didn’t usually go into the Everfree at night, but she had no doubt that they would if they had to.
Eventually, Nurse Redheart found Twilight in the waiting room and motioned her over to explain the situation. In a word, yes, there were signs of infection, but since it had only been around twelve hours since the bite, they were comfortable stitching the wounds after a thorough cleaning. With antibiotics, Sunset Shimmer would likely see a full recovery in two to four weeks.
That was a relief… and not because that was two to four weeks that Twilight wouldn’t have to worry about her sneaking out into the Everfree.
Not just because of that, anyway.
Wait. Was she supposed to be denying that, or was she supposed to be denying that she was concerned about Sunset to begin with?
She honestly wasn't sure.
Then again, did it really matter?
Shaking her head, Twilight took Spike outside and prepared to dictate a letter.
“Dear Princess Celestia,
“I’m sorry to say, but the introduction of Sunset Shimmer to life in Ponyville has not gone as smoothly as one might otherwise have hoped. As a result, it is with significant regret that I must inform you of the injury and subsequent hospitalization of your student.
“Great personal effort was made by all of the bearers of the Elements of Harmony in order to provide for her a home which would offer her the appropriate levels of comfort and dignity for an independent, self-sufficient mare of means so that she would be able to focus on the lessons of friendship for which she was sent to Ponyville.
“Ponies are ponies, however, and during the process an unfortunate comment was made which tested her self control. Admirably, rather than lash out she chose to temporarily remove herself from the situation. Not so admirably, I can only guess that in doing so she headed back to her previous accomodations in the Everfree because she showed up at the library this morning with makeshift bandages covering what I believe to be a timberwolf bite on her left haunch. She has not yet recovered consciousness in my presence, and so I have not been able to verify the circumstances of her injury.
“The nurse has informed me that, as of a few minutes ago, Sunset Shimmer is out of immediate danger, though she will require a significant period of convalescence as expected of such an injury.
“While this situation is regrettable, I also believe that it was inevitable. The dangers of the Everfree are not to be understated, and every effort was made to impress upon her the seriousness of the matter when her previous accommodations there came to light. This was, in fact, the primary impetus behind providing alternative accommodations in town with such haste. It is clear, however, that your student did not take this warning to heart. This should surprise nopony, as previous instances of boundary-pushing behavior have gone unresolved.
“Note that I say unresolved, not unpunished. In fact, it is the extremity of her previous punishment which no doubt encourages her rule-breaking behavior due to the expectation that not only can no worse punishments be made, but also that the punishments for future infractions will be nullified until her previous excess can be balanced out. So far as I can see, any such assumptions to this effect on her part would seem to bear out.
“Sunset Shimmer seems capable of being a nice, agreeable pony who I would be glad to call my friend, so hopefully we can find some way to convince her not to endanger herself needlessly in the Everfree. While it would be best if her current injury were encouragement enough to warn her off such actions, it is ever the imperative of the young to think themselves immortal, and I, for one, would sleep better knowing that I won’t wake up to an injured pony in my library again, or worse, something worse.”
Spike screwed up his face at what he’d just written. “‘Or worse… something worse?’” he asked. “Really?”
“Well, I’m not going to just come out and say ‘I’d rather not wake up to a corpse next time,’” Twilight insisted.
“You know,” he said, skimming over the letter. “The way Rarity tells it, I’d have expected you to be throwing Rainbow Dash under the cart a bit more.”
Twilight waved her hoof in dismissal. “We had a disagreement,” she said. “She really shouldn't have been that insensitive, but I overreacted, and I guess she also wasn't really on the same page as the rest of us in regards to keeping Sunset here in town where we can keep an eye on her.”
“Can we, though?” Spike asked. “It's not like she wouldn't be able to just disappear from inside her bedroom.”
Twilight sighed. “No, but it’s something, and it also means that she has to at least pretend to be ‘studying friendship.’ I’d guess that there’s a lot she won’t be able to do if she’s only slipping away here and there.”
“Does that mean you know how to do what she’s trying to do?” Spike asked.
“Not… as such,” Twilight reluctantly admitted. “Just going out there and meditating on my magic hasn’t really taught me anything except that I’m not good at meditating.
“Anyway, go ahead and sign the letter ‘Princess Twilight Sparkle,’ and send it.”
“You’re not going to mention Princess Cadance?” he asked, holding off on the signature for the moment.
“No, of course not,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “Whatever Cadance has to say to Sunset is her own business.”
“No snitching, gotcha,” Spike said, went to sign the letter, then hesitated again. “What about the spell she wanted, though? So she can write back? You don’t actually know that one, right?”
Twilight froze, then cursed. “Damn it, you’re right. Okay, sign it and add a postscript.
“P.S. On a somewhat lighter note, after her letter to you, Sunset Shimmer has also made an effort to reach out to Cadance via mail and expressed interest in learning the spell you use for sending letters to Spike. I think that this would be a wonderful project for her during her convalescence, and I don’t doubt that Cadance would like to be able to respond in a timely manner as well, and I admit to some curiosity myself. If you could send me your notes and references on the subject, then I’ll ensure the information gets to the ponies who need it.”
Spike gave Twilight a flat look. “You ‘don’t doubt that Cadance would like to be able to respond?’” he asked.
“Well, no, of course not,” Twilight innocently answered. “Do you?”
Spike facepalmed. “Considering she said it to your face…”
“My sources are good,” she defended.
“You’re really getting into this passive-aggressive thing, aren’t you?” he asked dryly, pointing out the obvious.
“Given the introduction to princesshood that I’ve received, are you really surprised?” she asked in return. It’s only going to get worse when Sunset and Cadance wake up.”
“Princess Cadance isn’t really passive-aggressive, though, is she?” Spike said. “She seemed more like she was channeling regular old aggressive-aggressive when she showed up.”
“No, believe me,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “When she feels like it, she can be just as catty as Sunset. Anyway, go ahead and send the letter.”
Finally, Spike had no more objections or comments, so he shrugged, rolled up the letter and sent it on its way with his flame.
Twilight idly watched the silver smoke until it was no longer discernible against the clear blue sky, then did what she could to stretch the tension of that whole mess out of her shoulders. Hopefully, she would have at least half a day of peace and quiet before she had to deal with any more of—Twilight was blinded by a flash of sunlight.
Blinking the spots out of her eyes, Twilight was suddenly faced with an agitated Princess Celestia.
Joy.
Twilight was not really a jealous sort of mare, but the way the princess immediately asked, “Where is she?” without so much as a greeting kind of ticked her off. The princess had appeared facing away from the hospital and was jerking her head back and forth, almost in a panic, looking for her student.
With a sigh, Twilight gestured with her hoof, directing Princess Celestia to the large, two-story building behind her.
“Show me to her,” Princess Celestia said.
Twilight attempted to object. “She’s—”
“Show me to her,” she insisted.
It went about as one would expect. The ponies were all flustered to have Princess Celestia there and were quick to show the two of them to a small room where Sunset Shimmer had been placed.
“She looks so… young,“ the Princess whispered, tentatively walking forward.
Twilight blinked. That sent alarm bells ringing in her head. “Princess, this isn't by any chance the first time you've seen her since the train, is it?”
Princess Celesetia was so distracted that she wasn't really concerned with what Twilight was implying. “Yes.”
“You mean to tell me…” she said, trying to wrap her head around it. “…That you pardoned and forgave Sunset Shimmer… through the mail, without ever actually talking to her face to face?”
The princess nodded. “Succinctly put.”
“Meaning that you haven't once looked her in the eye and asked if she was actually sorry,” Twilight clarified.
“Don't be ridiculous, Twilight,” the princess scoffed. “Of course she's not sorry.”
“But—err—what?” Twilight stammered, caught off-guard by that answer.
“I’m not an idiot, Twilight,” the princess bluntly asserted. “I know perfectly well that Sunset has as much intention of quietly making friends as you did when I first sent you here.
“If you’ll forgive me the trite metaphor, life is a journey, not a destination, and it is the way of such things that the road we travel shapes us far more than we shape it.
“Even from the few interactions I’ve had with her, I can tell that Sunset’s time on the other side of the mirror hasn’t done her any favors. She has, if anything, become more cunning and callous than the filly I remember. That is why, so long as she remains fixated on this relatively harmless path which keeps her in Ponyville, I am content.”
Relatively… harmless… path?
That… That… Twilight almost managed to suppress her reaction. She had just blown up on Rainbow Dash the day before, and she was better than that. Still, she couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath, her lips were pressed into a line and her only response was a stilted and flat, “I see,” followed by an equally unemotive, “Okay.”
Then, she decided to take a page out of Sunset’s book and disappeared in a flash of pink light.
Twilight still didn’t have any words when she slammed the library door open and stomped in, having appeared directly outside precisely so that she could do so.
“That… that mare! Argh!” she shouted, seething.
“Oh dear,” Rarity exclaimed from where she was sitting with a steaming cup of tea and a book with a stallion on the front. “What's gotten your dander up this time? Or should I say, ‘who?’”
“Hoo,” Owlowiscious agreed from where he was having a staring contest with Rainbow Dash.
Twilight pulled up short when she realized she wasn’t alone. “Sorry,” she said, and stopped to take a breath and calm herself down. “It’s just… Celestia.”
Rarity’s ears perked up at that. “The princess? Did you get a letter?”
“No, she actually came in person,” Twilight explained, then belatedly added, “To see Sunset, of course.”
“So, she still thinks her old student can do no wrong, huh?” Rainbow Dash guessed, not taking her eyes off of Owlowiscious.
“In a manner of speaking,” Twilight said, walking over to the table that Rarity was sitting at and seating herself, hanging her head between her hooves. She then went on to explain the very short discussion she had had with Princess Celestia. “…And she thinks that Sunset coming to Ponyville to steal my magic is just some harmless distraction. That was what she called it—harmless!”
“Well, that is unusually careless of her,” Rarity admitted. “But surely with Sunset in the hospital now, you’ll have plenty of time to finish your research ahead of her, so it should be a non-issue.”
That only made Twilight sink deeper into her hooves. “Finish?” she said. “Rarity, I’m no closer now than I was five minutes off the train. I don’t even know where to begin.”
“If you can’t do it, then what are you worried about?” Rainbow Dash said, sounding like she’d solved world hunger with a hotdog. “I mean, she’s got, what, five or six less years of learning magic than you, right? She’s got no chance!”
“It’s not like this sort of thing is in the regular curriculum, Rainbow,” Twilight said, rubbing her temples to ward off a headache. “I’ve only talked to her for a few hours, and it’s already clear that she knows more about handling raw magic than I do. Don’t forget—she managed to turn herself into a crystal pony by connecting to the Crystal Heart and she had some plan to do something with the Element of Magic, too. I wouldn’t underestimate her.”
“What about that box that you received from Princess Luna?” Rarity asked. “That was all of their notes on the Everfree, yes?”
“Years and years of logs that mostly say things like, ‘the far canyon felt moderately Everfree-y today,’” Twilight said, waving her hoof dismissively. “Look, I appreciate your confidence in me, but I’ve already gone over all this in my head enough times. I haven’t given up, but the fact is, no matter how smart I might be, all the things I know are just things that other ponies figured out.”
“My dear Twilight, you don’t give yourself enough credit,” Rarity insisted. “We all know that there is more to these things than the sum of their parts.”
“Besides,” added Rainbow Dash. “What about that whole thing when our cutie marks got mixed up? The answer to that didn’t come from a book, did it?”
If anything, Twilight’s mood only soured even more. “We’ve been over this,” she said. “Celestia made the whole ‘new magic’ thing up. She. Was. Lying.”
“Be that as it may…” Rarity said, picking up the subject. “Rainbow Dash does have a point. Just because your ‘new magic’ was in no way a unique achievement does not mean that it wasn’t ‘new magic.’”
“It was based on a broken spell to begin with,” Twilight instisted, still dismissive. Really, at that moment she was considering just asking Rarity and Rainbow Dash to leave so she could go lay down for a bit.
“Fine,” Rainbow Dash said. “Maybe it was just a magical crossword that you solved with words from the friendship dictionary. Don’t you still think it’s kind of important?”
Twilight lifted her head up off the table to look at Rainbow Dash. “Why would it be?” she asked.
“Duh!” Rainbow Dash said, tossing her arms up in frustration. “It still shot off your ascension, didn’t it? Don’t you think that a spell like that would be someplace to start when you’re trying to move magic around?”
Twilight stared blankly at Rainbow Dash.
“Oh. Kinda, yeah, I guess?”
“I can’t believe that you just left me there,” Spike grumbled as he searched the shelves for a book that wasn’t where it was supposed to be. Sometimes, the fact that her library was a public library really came back to bite her.
“And I can’t believe you’re still bringing it up,” Twilight said, not looking up from a treatise on spell modification. “I said that I was sorry.”
“What’s all this, then?” Cadance asked, announcing her presence from the stairs while rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
Twilight blinked. “Wait, you’re up?” she said and glanced at the clock above the library entrance. Sure enough it was already approaching late afternoon.
“For a certain definition of the word,” Cadance dithered, finding a seat across from Twilight. “Cofffee?”
“I’ll get it,” Spike volunteered, giving up on his search for the moment.
“So, what’d you do this time?” Cadance asked again.
Twilight rolled her eyes and explained, “After getting Sunset Shimmer to the hospital—you do remember that, right?”
“Mmgh,” Cadance grunted, furrowing her brow in concentration. “I remember Sunset on the floor bleeding. That wasn’t a dream?” she asked, then added, “I didn’t do that, did I?”
“No—no!” Twilight assured her, waving her hooves. “I’m pretty sure it was a timberwolf bite, though now that I mention it, I don’t think I ever got confirmation from Nurse Redheart on that.
“Anyway,” Twilight continued. “After getting Sunset to the hospital and bringing you back here to sleep off your innuendo—”
“Oh!” Cadance exclaimed. “Now I remember! I caught you staring at her—”
“Injury,” Twilight interrupted right back. “And again, after all of that, Spike and I went back to the hospital to wait for something concrete to tell Princess Celestia. Long story short—she showed up and got into a… I wouldn’t even call it an argument, but I got annoyed and teleported off.”
“And left me there to make excuses for her and take the books she brought,” Spike finished as he brought out a steaming princess-sized cup of coffee for Cadance, who didn’t even let him get halfway across the room before she took it from him with her light blue magic.
It was an awkward minute or two until Cadance stopped making obscenely appreciative sounds.
“So,” Cadance said breathily over her half-empty cup. “How is Sunset, anyway?”
“Sunset’s fine, though they’re going to keep her in the hospital for a while,” Twilight explained. “You’re not going to ask about what happened with Princess Celestia?”
“I was a teenager when I became an alicorn,” Cadance reminded Twilight. “In spite of Sunset clearly holding the gold medal for it, I did have my own disagreements with her from time to time. You’re overdue, and I won’t pry if you don’t want me to. I can guess, though.”
Twilight considered it, but shook her head. “I’ve already ranted about it to Rarity and Rainbow and it really isn’t something that takes all that much to unpack.”
“Alright,” Cadance said and took a long, blissful sip from her cup. “Now, about that letter-sending spell…”
“Actually,” Twilight said, glancing at the clock again to make sure that it wouldn’t be too late. “We should go check on Sunset again. If she’s up, she wanted to learn it, too.”
“That is the exact opposite of what I want, Twilight,” Cadance deadpanned.
“Well, given that I wasn’t sure if you wanted Princess Celestia to know that you flew all the way down here just to yell at Sunset…?”
Cadance managed to communicate her negative response with a blush and the shake of her head.
“Right,” Twilight said. “Given that, I asked for her notes on the spell on Sunset’s behalf instead.”
“Wait,” Cadance said, pulling her face away from her coffee for a moment to give Twilight an inquisitive look. “You don’t already know it?”
“No?” Twilight said, thinking that should have been obvious. “I have a Spike,” she said, gesturing at her assistant.
Somehow, that didn’t seem to appease Cadance.
The trip over to the hospital was quiet and uneventful, which was probably a good thing. Twilight very much doubted that it would have gone over well if, for instance, Rainbow Dash had decided to join them for this particular visit. Maybe later she would get her brash friend to apologize, but it would have to be much, much later.
Not that Rainbow Dash was the only one who had a bone to pick with Sunset Shimmer.
“Actually, maybe this isn’t the best idea,” Twilight said, having second thoughts as she signed her name on the hospital’s visiting list.
“Relax, Twilight,” Cadance reassured her, briefly placing a hoof on her shoulder as she took Twilight’s place and signed her own name. “I’m not going to pick a fight with an injured pony.”
And she didn’t.
Not exactly.
The first words out of Cadance’s mouth when she saw Sunset Shimmer were, “Geez, you really are just a filly, aren't you?”
Sunset's immediate response was, “Bite me.”
Cadance won that exchange with the addition of a raised eyebrow and a glance at Sunset's bandaged flank.
“…Okay, yeah, that wasn't my best,” Sunset admitted, disgruntled but accepting. “Anyway, what are you doing this far south, lovebutt?”
“Oh, you know,” Cadance said with a nonchalant shrug. “I got an interesting piece of correspondence and decided it deserved a personal response.
“Oh?” Sunset said, acting innocent. “Must have been some letter.”
“It was very enlightening,” Cadance said, approaching Sunset’s bed. “And, you know, a little enlightenment never hurt anypony.”
Sunset had to shift herself in the bed to back away from Cadance, who was getting awfully close. “Oh?” she said, still pretending not to have any idea what Cadance was talking about, but clearly getting uneasy with her status as a captive audience.
“Yep!” Leaning in, Cadance said, “The answer is, ‘no.’”
Sunset blinked. Suddenly, she didn’t need to fake her confusion. “No?”
“Yep!” Cadance said, backing off. “No, as in, ‘No, I don’t have any problem keeping warm at night,’ thank you very much.”
Sunset… blushed.