Why was she up?
What was she doing here?
Standing in an empty street before dawn, the questions drifted by. Questions from a mare turned ghost.
Displaced. Dissolved. Forgotten. Nopony ahead of her. Nopony behind. Nopony to her left or right, and nopony awake, save perhaps the few as lost or stupid as her.
She was being dramatic, of course. That's what she'd always been - what she'd always done. Take normal, trivial matters and problems every regular person faced every regular day of their regular lives, and turn it into the end of the fucking world.
Brisk air whispered through the streets, singing a forlorn morning song. Did it mean anything? Could it mean anything? Did she?
She smelled the air, crisp and empty, but with traces of yesterday. It seemed to carry the scent of red wine, soup, and chocolates. All of it bitter. If Moonstone's parents didn't know about her, she never told anyone. Probably didn't even remember her name, if she remembered at all.
She shivered. Shoulda worn her jacket today. Despite being June, this high up in the mountains this early in the morning, temperatures dropped close to winter.
Glancing around, she took in her surroundings. Really, actually reflected on them. Old Canterlot was a living, breathing thing. She'd come to that conclusion the moment she laid her eyes on it after... what, ten years? More? Hard to remember these days.
She should have been able to. It was her past, after all. But her past took so many twists and turns, went through so many dark tunnels and passages, she felt beyond her age. Nineteen, turning on twenty.
She got the vague sensation she'd lost her adolescence somewhere along the way. Fillyhood innocence? Further behind than that. Reality was just catching up with her now, getting ready to rip the last shred of that time from her grasp.
She grew up too fast. She'd been forced to, by herself of course, although she blamed everyone else besides her at the time. Those first few months on Earth might as well have been years.
So what if life was unfair? It was like this for everypony - everybody, in both worlds she'd crossed. She got dealt her cards, and instead of playing them smart tried tearing them apart, setting them on fire, and hoping she'd get high from snorting the ashes.
She sighed. The roads of this tier marked it like veins, its streets like vessels. It had no direct source, no heart you could point to, but some invisible core beat regardless. It flowed with the lifeblood of commerce, of friendship, of hopes and dreams and pasts and memories she'd been a part of, and infinitely more that she never would.
Ponies were born here, centuries ago. They told tales, passing down stories and promises. Famous figures made their mark, and inspired the generations to come.
She was born inside them. She grew up hearing and reading and speaking the language this centuries-old metropolis spoke. It was where she belonged - her home, technically.
It didn't feel that way. Never did, to tell the truth.
It was fine. She was fine, or she would be. Wasn't like any of this mattered, and certainly not her made up problems. Old Canterlot breathed long before she was born. It would breathe long after she died.
Still, she couldn't help herself but wonder. In all this, how did she fit in to this city's story? Where did the mare, the strange and foreign puzzle piece called Sunset Shimmer belong?
Did she belong?
Perhaps too much time had passed for Old Canter to welcome her back. Presumptuous, of course, to think it wanted her to begin with. Her parents obviously didn't.
Perhaps, she'd simply been born in the wrong place, at the wrong time, to the wrong ponies. Maybe that's why she went to Earth and stayed there. After all, she'd never come across her human alter-ego, or even found her online. Maybe she was meant to leave this place, trade the life she used to want so badly for a life her wildest dreams could never have imagined.
Or wanted.
But she had friends. A job, a life, an opportunity, even magic. She should have been grateful.
When she was little, she thought constantly about the future, and another life. A future or life where she'd meet her parents, and hear them apologize for what they did. Or a life where they loved her enough not to ditch her on the doorstep of an orphanage, with nothing but a toy and blanket to her name.
Her name.
She snorted. Was Sunset even her real name? Had they given enough of a shit to name their daughter?
Or had Swan been the one to do that. Her old Matron never told her the details, just that she'd been dropped off at the orphanage steps on a late, dreary and rainy Friday night. So late, in fact, she was the only pony awake when it happened. What if she wasn't?
Sunset guessed she should consider herself lucky. At least they left her somewhere. At least that old stitchwork toy had her birthday on the back, in tiny sewn numbers.
She wished she found it out in a different way than she did. But, y'know, she wished a lot of things. Wishing didn't mean jack for shit.
She never brought her birthday up to anyone. Swan didn't know. Celestia didn't know. None of her friends knew. Just her. That young, she kept it secret because if she told anyone she'd have to explain how she found out.
For some reason, it hadn't crossed her mind she could've lied. Not something she'd wanted to lie about. So, she said nothing at all.
Back then, she never asked Swan to tell her more about the night she arrived. The thought crossed her mind, of course, but she never followed up.
She never asked about anything relating to her parents. Heaven forbid, it might have exposed herself. If she asked it meant she had reason to care. If she had reason to care, it clearly bothered her.
If somepony knew something bothered her, it was bad. She had to keep it inside as much as possible. Great deal that'd done her, but she did it anyway.
A part of her regretted that now.
Obviously, in hindsight, she'd look on it differently. That was always the case. Everypony examined their past at some point, reflecting and counting all the might have beens, large and small.
Sunset could admit this much to herself - she considered those more than most.
She walked. Hoofsteps rang against the gray brick patchwork. It was a tapestry of stone - some worn and ancient, craggly, some old but polished, some newly laid. The sound bounced off them, flitting between the houses to fill empty spaces with the presence of her.
She felt the tug on her throat, like she was doing something wrong. Filled with the distinct sense that she was intruding. But she kept nagging, nagging, nagging, persistently insistent like the obnoxious brat she used to be. Judging by her latest outbursts, still was.
To what end she bothered, she barely knew anymore. Closure, she guessed? A way to say "Hi, I fixed everything! I'm better now, please forgive me!"
She laughed. How selfish was that?
Her voice poured out like a gunshot, sharp and piercing. A bullet whistling by, a foreign object to this world. That tranquil quiet shattered, and for a moment it seemed the city might finally notice her intrusion.
As sudden as the laugh came, it went. Unsettled but undeterred, the early morning quiet retook its place upon the throne. Somepony must have heard her though; either she'd woken someone from a light sleep, or startled someone already awake.
Pitiful. Egotistic. Narcissist. She considered the words.
Hoping to clear her head, she continued walking. Movement gave her body something to do, turned the volume of her mind down to tolerable levels. She let the echoes of her hoofsteps guide and deliver her where ever she needed to go, whatever place she belonged.
And they did.
Whether by chance or instinct, she began to recognize her surroundings. This crossroads, that purple shingle roof with the fractal cracks, those carved names inside a heart on the sidewalk. They were familiar. She didn't understand quite why yet. Childhood memories took more time and effort to unearth than recents. Turning right, she understood.
That alley.
That corner.
It came to her in a wave. Images, sounds, and sensations flooded her brain, flicking to and fro like an agitated projector. This had been their special place. At least, she hoped it was special for more than just her. She remembered Moonstone laughing and smiling, playing along and helping her practice. Had it been real?
Here, no one bothered them. Nopony cared enough about some tucked away pocket in a tucked away street in Canterlot's own tucked away district. They could make as much noise and destruction as they wanted - to an extent. Not like they could start burning homes down or anything, though heavens knew Sunset wanted to. Fire was pretty, and she had loved watching it every chance she got.
Had. Not much anymore, although she wanted to.
The floor and walls bore signs of magical damage. Unnaturally patterned scorchmarks, gouges, chips, and spiderweb fractures suggested a history of localized, controlled, and violent upheaval. Analyzing every little crack, she couldn't help but read them as old wounds instead of what they were - a filly and her friend's innocent playtime.
She paced the perimeter. Back then, it felt huge. They'd been so little, these walls felt more like castle ramparts. She could just imagine her younger self gazing up at her in awe, over the Moon to learn more about her future.
Feebly, Sunset smiled. A forgotten memory wormed itself to the surface - her and Moonstone with cardboard swords and shields, and equally flimsy 'plate armor' battling it out for supremacy. She couldn't recall any more details than that, just the two of them playing at knights.
At the very end, she noticed a tile out of place. Loosed from the surroundings, it exposed a sliver of gritty, pale dirt.
A shiver went down her spine. A part of her both loved and hated this whole trip, going down memory lane. On the one hand- Er, hoof.
On the one hoof, she was glad to remember more of her fillyhood years. But on the other.., some memories truly were best left forgotten. Stones better left unturned.
This one? Not so much.
She'd used the dirt under that tile to practice nature magic. It had been after her first trial, but before the first exam to enter Celestia's School. At the time her thought process went that if she knew preservation magic - she really didn't - the next best thing was to learn growth magic.
For the hint of a moment, her smile twitched. Even then, it was ego that drove her on.
She never wanted to graduate Celestia's School for the sake of learning, of helping society. She attended because she wanted to be smart and powerful. She hopped from one advanced spell to the next not because she loved the process of knowledge and practice, but because she had to impress, prove she had the stronger skills, the superior intellect.
To prove, above all else, that Sunset Shimmer was better than they were.
She sighed. Celestia had no idea how lucky she was to pick Twilight.
Grabbing the tile with her magic, she slid it aside. Coarse, barren dirt made up the majority of her former 'gardening grounds'. She'd only ever managed to grow a couple flowers, and a few blades of grass. Impressive for someone her age, definitely, but nothing to win her any accolades.
Except... it wasn't just dirt. Huh?
She couldn't be sure if it was from those old attempts - probably wasn't - but a single, thin little stem pushed up from the ground. She couldn't even tell what it was. Looked more like a weed than anything, but weeds were more resilient than this tiny sprout.
Her face brightened. Warmth entered her voice. "Hey little guy." She crouched down, folding into a loaf to be on eye level. "And what's your name?"
Knocking her head side to side, shuffling around, she tried to see it from more angles. It looked about the same from each - a thin, wispy, thick at the base but tapering finger of grayish black-brown. A few twig-like branches extended from the sides, ending in dull points. It seemed to be stable, if not healthy.
Curiously, she reached out and touched it.
The stem snapped. The remainder fell onto the dirt, and broke apart into dust-like fragments. The wind carried them away, until only the dead root remained.
Dead. Hadn't been alive to start with.
A lump pushed up her throat. She bit it back down, choking.
Smile gone, she slid the tile back in place. Fully in place. She'd seen enough.
She turned to leave for somewhere else. Where to, again she couldn't say. Anywhere but here, really.
On the wind, she caught the scent of ash.
She found herself meandering. Eventually, familiarity worked its gradual way to the unknown.
She'd never been to this part of town, neither then nor now. The haggardly stitched pathways gave way to clean, polished stones. They resembled Middle and Upper Canterlot's in function, though not in form, retaining that gray and bluish slate or granite, but the most damage spotted an occasional chip or dimple.
The homes, too, struck her as a blend between Lower Canterlot's old-style homes, and the higher levels' fanciful architecture. She didn't see one below two stories, all with painted walls of white and pastels and clean, well-looked after roofs. Pots and planter boxes or other ornaments decorated the balconies, here the norm rather than the exception, with latticed windows shuttered by polished wood blinds.
It even smelled different. Only in its absence did she notice the lack of faint, pungent alcohol and detritus. In its place, the scent of fresh grass, flowers, perfumes poured into her lungs. Nothing as expensive as the Uppers but certainly comparable to the Middles. Wealthy, but tasteful.
What was this place? How had she never noticed it before?
Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she moved to the right, traveling on the sidewalk instead of the street. On her way, she passed gardens, benches, trashcans, nearly all of them spotless. Not a hint of graffiti, cracks in the infrastructure, long-abandoned homes with dark, peering windows.
So caught up in looking around, she forgot to look ahead. Quick as that, she found herself in what instinct told her must have been the market district. It matched the neighborhoods behind her, so bougie and manicured. She wasn't sure whether she was annoyed or jealous - probably both - and which of those two she would rather be.
By the time she reached the cafes and restaurants, the dusky sky began to lighten. Murky gray-blue shone more vibrantly, Stars disappearing, clouds drifting by as the Sun peeked out. She smiled, wondering if Celestia got up earlier or later than her.
Pondering whether to head back, her body made the decision for her. Her stomach growled, a restrained feline roar. The kind that wouldn't stay civil for long.
She'd been walking for at least a couple hours. Stint like that made a girl hungry.
The vast majority of stores were closed, but not inactive. Behind locked doors hooves clopped, words murmured, objects moved. Heat carried the whiff of baked goods on the air, floating through open windows or vents. The beast growled again.
She spotted the perfect place two blocks up, its placid green sign flipped to 'Open'. The building was made from porous stone painted beige, with a tan and terracotta-red awning hanging over the glass storefront.
'Boris' Boba'. Score. If there was any tea she liked more than white, it was boba.
She veered inside, chimes alerting her presence. The inside reminded her of any standard tea or coffee shop from Earth, and amusingly familiar RNB played from unseen speakers.
"Oops, ouch, ow!" Behind the counter, beyond a wall, an accented voice swore, bumping into pots and pans. Belatedly, a gray-furred griffon stepped out from the back, and she struggled to hide her laughter.
"Mein apologies, fraulein." He smiled with his silver beak, green eyes calm despite the earlier commotion. "I do not expect customers this early."
She chuckled. "Why do you have the sign as Open then," she asked, jerking her horn to the front.
"Ah, well." He swiped his claws through his plumage, as if flicking away invisible sweat. "You know how it is. Business opportunities!" His grin widened, puffing out his white-feathered chest, spotted with black quills. "I am the only one who opens this early, and I take great pride in it. And you are here, nein? Clearly this strategy has payed off! Now, what may I get for you today? I have never seen you before; I could provide recommendations if you so wish!"
This griffon fascinated her. She always heard griffons were persnickety, though she'd never met one herself until now. Evidence argued with stereotype.
She pondered, scanning the menu. "It all looks pretty good, but I'll take whatever your favorite is." She grinned back, a chaotic twinkle in her eye. "Surprise me."
"Ja ja, one Black Forest Boba coming right- Oh. I have ruined the surprise. Oh well!"
Before he left, she called out for a bagel sandwich. Darting away, he left her alone. She found a place to sit, a comfortable iron chair beside a round blackwood table. She didn't wait for long, him zipping out in a hoofful of minutes to hand her the drink and meal.
She took it gladly, retrieving her bits from the ether, connected to Twilight's Bag. He passed four back to her. "First buyer's treat," he winked. "You may join our rewards program if you come around often."
"That's okay, thanks. I'm only here for the month."
He nodded amiably, wings slightly down. She turned away, ignoring the mild guilty sensation, and tucked in. She finished quickly, pleased and satisfied.
She got up, ready to leave and do more exploring. It would give her the space and reminder she needed to figure where she wanted to go next, who she wanted to see.
She didn't get the chance. The chimes rang again, and a mare stepped inside that made Sunset stop dead.
The mare didn't notice her, not immediately. She seemed surprised at first to find somepony there this early. Then, she saw Sunset's face.
"Tinsel?"
She'd grown up slender, elegant. Her curls had grown out, and the weight of them pulled down on her mane, so they went from waves into springy gold-platinum ringlets at the bottom. She had her cutie mark too, a fireworks explosion of shiny metal confetti with a star at its center.
Tinsel took a step back, raising a foreleg. Defensive gesture.
"Do I... know you?" Her flecked eyes darted left and right, searching for a place to stare that wasn't Sunset.
Sunset tried her best to wear a smile. "We went to school together. Prism Elementary?"
Prism Elementary stood for Ruby Prism, the noblemare who established various institutions in her name early in Old Canterlot's life. Over the centuries, with the dissolution of the Prism Estate, it degraded into any ordinary school, days of prestige far behind it.
"Right. I, uhm. I think I remember. What was your name again?"
Sunset had the vague notion Tinsel might follow her question up with another. 'Orphan girl?'
She didn't. There was no malice, no blade in her words.
"Sunset Shimmer."
Tinsel nodded, swallowing. Boris burst into the front, wings flared and beak beaming before he saw the two, their expressions. He and Tinsel conversed with their eyes in the way only those who knew each other could.
He retreated.
"Yes. I'm... I'm sorry how I treated you."
Sunset eased her smile. "Not a big deal. We were kids." She held out a hoof to shake. Tinsel flinched. Sunset cringed, setting it back on the floor. "How've you been?"
"Fine, I guess."
They stayed quiet a fraction too long. Tinsel shuffled on her hooves. Sunset's ear flicked.
"You... still friends with Gold and Emerald?"
A spark lit up Tinsel's eyes. Not a bright one. Not a happy one, if she read her right.
"No," Tinsel said flatly. A dead, factual statement, delivered in the way someone did when forced to confess. Sunset didn't like that she'd been the one to push it.
She pressed on. "What happened?"
"Gold's dad found a good job. They moved to Midtown a month after you left." 'Midtown' was the colloquialism Old Canters used to refer to the Middle tier, usually as a pejorative. "Emerald and I didn't have much in common, so we... stopped seeing each other, after a while."
"I'm sorry," Sunset tried. It was trite. Hollow words. "That must have been rough."
Tinsel bristled, narrowed her eyes. "Yeah. It was."
"You know," Sunset mumbled, hoping to salvage this disaster with a confession of her own. "I always thought your family was rich."
It seemed to work. Tinsel snorted, a genuine laugh, but a bitter one. Sunset could tell the bitterness wasn't meant for her.
"My family? Rich." She laughed again, harder. Her foreleg rose again too, elevated not retreating. "We did okay for Old Cant standards. Do you think I would've been in Prism Elementary if we were rich?" Her tone sounded accusatory.
Sunset chewed her lip. "Guess not."
"It is what it is. I live here in Springside these days, so I did better than my parents, at least."
Sunset nodded. She didn't know what to say, so she said nothing at all. "I get you." She stuck out her hoof for the second time. "It's been nice catching up?"
Tinsel's hoof didn't move to meet hers. Sunset put it back down.
Tinsel gave a non-committal shrug. "Sure. It's been something."
Before Sunset got in another word, Tinsel started to move around her.
"Wait." Tinsel stopped, glancing over her shoulder. "You told me sorry, about what you did. I..."
Sunset gnawed at her cheek. Memories flashed through her skull. Memories of jeering, then fire, snow, something red, black, and blue.
Cracking. Blows. Sobbing.
"I wanted to say, I'm sorry, too."
Tinsel's ears folded, tail tucked between her legs. "It's fine. We were kids, like you said."
She didn't offer anything more, and neither did Sunset. As Tinsel reached the counter and met Boris, Sunset discretely slid more bits from the ether, landing them on the countertop in front of Tinsel. Thirty in total, enough for a full breakfast meal.
She left before Tinsel said anything. The door opened, then closed behind her with a chime.
The chill hit her like a wave. Hints of malformed snowflakes perched on her nose, like speckled dust. A cold front had blown in from the North, or down from the snowcap.
She wanted to go somewhere warm. Somewhere she knew. Somewhere, with someone else, she had to apologize to.
She headed West.
The front didn't last for long. It reached its peak by the time she got where she wanted, and the ghost-like powder of snow melted by the time she left.
The Sun hung at its zenith. Sunset carried a cardboard box on her back, strapped in place with the spare leather the new Head provided.
She didn't need to. She could use magic. Tow it alongside her in the air, easier, better, more stable that way. But she liked the weight of it, light physically, and in all other senses the opposite.
She hadn't teleported back either. She carried it the whole way, up the stairs, one by one, until the Sun's hot rays and raw exertion made her spring into sweat. It clung to her coat, matting it down with a faint, glimmering sheen.
She told herself she liked the effort. She told herself she liked the exercise. She told herself, she told herself, she told herself.
She didn't have to tell herself anything to know she felt numb.
She got halfway to the Staff Halls when she heard cawing up ahead, and a smooth, pleasant voice soothing the bird. Her ears perked, recognizing both.
Celestia turned the corner, Philomena perched on her wither. "No, Phila. I do not care how much you complain, Zebrican birdseed cannot be every meal of your- Oh! Sunset Shimmer." She stopped, Sunset too, smiled politely.
Philomena's beak clacked shut. Hers and Sunset's gazes met. Sunset remembered another bird, tech and metal, perched on someone else's shoulder.
"Princess," Sunset faltered. "Philomena."
Philomena chirped. It took all of a second for her to leap off Celestia, swoop in, and crash into her.
Sunset chuckled, holding the press in her ribs at bay. Hold back the choke in her voice.
"Hey, Mena," she whispered. Philomena cooed, rubbed at Sunset's tender neck. Sunset nosed her plumage.
She looked at Celestia. "You kept her."
Celestia smiled. "I did. Why would I not?"
Sunset blinked the beads away. "Fair enough," she laughed. "Thank you. It's been a long day."
Philomena found her favorite spot, flapping up to perch on Sunset's head. Her claws stayed soft, holding the hair but not gripping it.
Okay. Maybe gripping it. A little tight, but nothing Sunset couldn't handle. She'd let Philomena have that.
"So," Celestia began. The lightness in Sunset's head dulled. The knot of unknown dread formed in her stomach. 'So,' she repeated, mentally. Too much weight on that word.
"So," Sunset said.
"Have things gone as you expected?"
Mhm. There it was.
"Not... exactly." Sunset couldn't help looking down. Philomena squawked, scrabbled. Sunset restrained a shriek as the talons scraped her scalp, and she righted her head in a moment. "I'm not having the best luck right now. Ponies I wanted to see, and can't find."
Can't find? Liar. Won't find.
"Is this a bad thing?"
'Yes,' Sunset thought, but she didn't say it. She had her expectations. Life, as usual, snatched them from her hooves and made her choke on it.
"I don't know yet." This lie came harder.
"I see." Celestia's smile waned neutral. Her eyes were no less warm. She moved in, placed a wing under Sunset's chin in an old, familiar way that made Sunset shudder.
Celestia wasn't the only mare in her past who did that. The lump bobbed in her throat.
"I will be here, if you ever wish to speak. Reconciling can be a difficult task."
'How would you know that?'
Sunset kicked the spiteful thought aside. That wasn't fair to Celestia. Crown only knew what she'd gone through in over a thousand years of living.
Sunset eased back, removing herself from the contact. "Thank you, Princess, I appreciate it." She smiled stiffly. "But I'll be alright. I have a lot more to do, so it's not my last chance."
Celestia nodded morosely. A thought seemed to pass through her eyes, but she didn't speak it. Sunset found the similarity to herself sadly amusing.
"Well then, if you do not mind, I'll be on my way. Philomena and I were headed for our afternoon spa. Would you like to join us?"
Sunset shook her head. "I'm good. Wanna get this-" She nudged her right wither, making the box jostle. "Back to my room."
Celestia nodded, wordless again. She paused, staring off into the distance before she focused. Her smile returned. "Since you are here, I'd like to make a proposal. You are here until the end of this month, yes?"
"Mhm."
"The Summer Sun Celebration will be held towards the end of this month. If you and your friends on Earth should be interested, I'd very much like to have you. Just so long as they keep their heads down to avoid any unwanted attention." She tittered, winked.
"That... could be nice, yeah." She spoke with a bit more confidence. "Yeah, no, totally. I'd love to show them more about Equestria. When is the Solstice this year?"
"June twentieth."
Sunset blinked. Blinked, blinked, blinked.
Tge twentieth. Two weeks and change from today.
Her smile stumbled, but didn't break. "Sure. Twentieth works."
Starlight left a sticky note on the desk. 'Out for Lunch with Trixie.'
Sunset peeled it off The North March, crumpled it up, threw it in the trash. After today, it made her feel...
Not good. But better.
She undid the strap, and slid the box safely onto the bed. She wanted to open it. Horribly. Peek inside, see what she left.
She couldn't. She couldn't face it, not yet.
She had to hide it from Starlight. Looking around, she settled on the underside of her bed. The comforter covered the sides, and there was just enough space to push it in with a little effort. The cardboard bent, tape whined, but didn't break.
She climbed into bed with a grunt, grabbing her book from the side. Twilight would kill her, but she used dog-ears in place of a bookmark. Finding the chapter, she read.
'Chapter 9: What Led to the Fall?
In the realm of Crystal Imperial history, speculation runs rampant. With its return, Sombra's defeat, and the reign of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza - adoptive niece of Princess Celestia and sister-in-law to Princess Twilight Sparkle - the crystal ponies have introduced their own voices to the historians' chorus. Yet still, little is known.
Towards the end of the North March campaign, Princess Luna acting as General for Equestria's army, King Sombra was well aware of their approach. In the chaos, he ordered his staff and scribes to burn or otherwise bury as much documentation as they could. They were successful to a large degree.
As a result, firsthoof sources are rare and far between. In fact, prior to the return of the Empire and its ancient population, there were no firsthoof sources available anywhere. Historians had to craft and create their narrative based upon what they had from the Royal vaults and academies. It is rumored there is more information under the ownership of Princess Celestia, although there is no evidence to back this up beyond the occasional former staff's testimony.
Nevertheless, access to the Empire and statement from the crystal ponies have given us the clearest lens into the past than we have ever gotten. The single most powerful question remains - why? Why did the War happen? How did King Sombra, once a kind and benevolent ruler of his ponies, become a dark and twisted version of himself?
The Alicorn Amulet receives the most blame, but the question that ponies forget in this accusation is why he built it in the first place. What pushes a pony to build such an artifact? What circumstances would lead someone to such desperate measures? In this chapter, we will attempt to answer this question based on contextual history, surrounding events, long-running sociopolitical trends, and the nature of dark magic itself.'
Starlight arrived half an hour later. The chapter gave Sunset a lot to think about, and too much of what she saw resonated. She pushed it aside, book too, and sat up.
"Hey," Starlight said. "You look concerned."
Sunset brushed the fringe out of her eye. "Do I?"
"Mildly. Went out today?"
"Yup."
"Anything fun?"
"Not really."
Starlight considered. "Going out to eat twice in one day feels a little extravagant, but... You look miserable, no offense. Wanna find some place for dinner?"
Sunset's eyes widened. "Uh. Yeah. Sure, why not. We could do that. Where?"
"Could go to Old Canterlot. I really did like that-"
"No."
Sunset regretted the word. Spoken too loud. Too quick. Too sharp.
Starlight tilted her head. "Should I ask?"
"You won't get an answer if you do."
Starlight shrugged, smiled. "Fair enough. Where do you suggest, then?"
"How about Uptown?"
"Uptown?"
"Sorry, Old Canter habit." Sunset pushed past the confusion on Starlight's face. "Uptown means Upper Canterlot, Midtown means Middle Canterlot."
"I see." Starlight rubbed her chin. "Upper Canterlot's pretty fancy. I feel like we'd stick out too much." She gestured to herself, her clothes, Sunset's jacket laid over a chair.
"We'll be fine. I have the bits."
Starlight giggled. "Ooh la la. I'm being taken out for dinner by a fancy mare."
Sunset got up and stuck out her tongue. "Not a fancy mare, far from it. I just got royal connections." She popped Twilight's Bag from the shelf and jangled it around. It sounded like a lot more bits in there than it looked like it could hold.
"Royal connections, leather jacket, bad girl attitude. Keep it up and you'll make a pony swoon."
Sunset blushed, shoving the Bag back in the drawer. "R-right."
"So, Upper Canterlot it is. Any recommendations?"
"Mh, I'm not that familiar with that part of the city. I know somepony who will, though."
"So, recommendations for Upper Canterlot?"
Raven Inkwell folded her hooves, chin atop them, humming in thought. Using her magic, she swirled the freshly brewed tea in her cup. She lifted it up to her lips, drank, and rolled her chair over to one of the many file cabinets in her office.
"There's a list in here somewhere. I have a good enough memory to know most of them, but obviously," she chuckled. "No one is perfect. Do you girls have any cuisine in mind? Neighponese, Bitalian, Prench...?"
She ruffled around in the folders, finding it while Sunset and Starlight thought.
Raven was a native of Upper Canterlot. Sunset didn't know much about her life beyond that, and the occasional insights she got being in the palace with her when she - they - were younger. She didn't know her age then, only her age now. It made Sunset feel ancient.
"Not really," Sunset replied, shaking her head. "Anywhere's fine I guess."
"Hmm... Aha! There it is." Raven pulled out a folder labelled 'Personal 1'. There were another fifty like it.
Raven hadn't reacted to her arrival in any particularly strong way. Surprise, maybe, but more at the interruption than her presence. "Sunset, right?" she'd asked, as if she didn't remember.
Maybe she didn't. They hadn't interacted much, or for any extended periods of time. It had also been nearly five years and, being the Princess' Head Secretary, ear to the ground of all domestic and foreign happenings, she had little reason to remember who Sunset was.
"Let's see... The Grove is this wonderful little Marisian restaurant, but they don't have a direct menu. They... oh. They're also closed on Mondays. Okay, okay... The Tasty Treat does Hindian, although they're in Middle Canterlot, not Upper. Ahh.... Dune does Saddle Arabian, La Magia does Salbitoran, there's another Prench ooone.... Oh! How do you feel about sushi?"
"Love it," Sunset cheered. "I actually work as a sushi waitress back ooooooon-" She drew the vowel too long, realizing her mistake. Raven looked at her quizzically. "Back in my city."
Raven nodded, showing her the file. She pointed to the restaurant name with a pen. "It's called Noori. You can order a la carte or all-you-can-eat, but it's very pricey. They also have a strict formal dress code."
"What kind of dress code? Starlight asked.
Raven closed the folder. "The kind that says mares wear dresses, and stallions wear suits. It's old-fashioned, not much a fan of that myself, but the quality's to die for."
Sunset frowned. "Not usually one for dresses, but I guess I'll make do." She mumbled under her breath, "Uptowners..."
Raven quirked a brow. "Uptown? Oh! You must be from Low Canterlot. I thought I recognized your accent."
Sunset bit the remark bubbling in her mouth. 'Low' Canterlot, really. A small difference between Old Canters and the other tiers, not meant spitefully, but she'd heard it used that way in the past. "Didn't know I had one."
Raven waved a hoof. "That's accents for you. If you'd like some help, my tailor lives here in the palace. I'm sure he can find you a dress you'll like."
"Works for me."
"Great. I'll call him in, and book you two a reservation."
She did so, asking their preferred time while they waited for her tailor to drop by. He did by the time the reservations were made, and whisked them off to his studio.
Sunset learned he was more than just Raven's tailor, but made clothes for all the high-ranking staff here, Celestia included. Him and Rarity would hit it off well. He was just her kind of snooty.
Stitching a dress from hoof would take days, so they went through a wardrobe about as wide and three times as long as her apartment. She gawked at the ostentation of it. Starlight found hers easily. Sunset was pickier. Eventually, they settled on something that she liked.
It wasn't a long dress, closer to cocktail without as much fur showing. She wanted sleek, tight, not sexual. It was black, trimmed with gold and had a large split down the collar that showed her chest. If she was human, she'd have been indecent without a bra.
She wished she brought one of her collars with her, maybe the spiked one, but it turned out he had a nice choker that paired with it. Black, lacy, a clear and finely cut Pigeon's Blood ruby at its center. she was striking. The dress and accessory suggested the idea of a kickass leather jacket, without actually being a kickass leather jacket.
Starlight chose more feminine, more flowing, with seams that showed off a bit of thigh and cutie mark. It matched the blue of her eyes, and faint, twinkling constellations had been stitched into the cloth with glittering silver thread. To mirror Sunset, she picked out a silver pendant with a four-pointed aquamarine star at its center.
By the time they left, Starlight's watch said it was close to seven. Celestia had already set the Sun to setting, and Luna's Moon would rise not long after. Walking down the long flight of palace stairs, Starlight pointed at the sky.
"Between the restaurant, the price, and the dresses, it feels like we're going on a date."
Sunset stumbled. She caught up quickly. "I... guess it does a little, yeah."
They arrived a few minutes late. The mare at the front looked ready to turn them out, but Sunset pressed a seal onto the smooth granite desk.
The Royal Seal of Entry. There were three similar such seals, one for Authority, another for Arms, a final one for Approval. They proclaimed official federal business, military involvement, and accolades respectively. Sunset's, the one for entry, implied they were staff or guests of the Tetrarchy and as such were allowed entrance to any location for any reason except for their own safety. Raven gave them two before they left, and it worked in their favor.
The mare bowed and sputtered an apology. "I did not realize. Please, come, come."
She shepherded them to their seat, a round white marble table with a flickering paper lantern at its center. The interior was dark, dimly lit with a dull red from more lanterns and stringlights above. In the middle of the whole thing stood a kitchen area, walled off with black granite counters where sushi chefs prepared the rolls live.
The mare left and came back with their waiter, before quickly departing. He gave them their menus, and Sunset balked at the price.
Forty bits a roll, at minimum. Two-hundred for the all-you-can-eat special.
The waiter bowed. "Good evening, ladies. Is there anything I can start you off with this evening?"
"Just water for now," Sunset said, then added, "Thank you," as he left.
Sunset sighed into her seat. "Knew this wouldn't be cheap. Didn't think it'd be this bad, though."
"Right?" Starlight scrunched her snout. "What are we going to do? I'm assuming you don't have the bits for this."
"Nope. Not if I don't wanna go broke." Sunset sat up, rubbed her eyes. "I don't like the thought of abusing these things, but..." She pulled out her Seal.
Starlight nodded. "Good idea. You can always ask them to bill the Crown. Diplomats get free dinners all the time."
"Since when were we diplomats?" Starlight cowed, and Sunset sighed again. "It's fine. Better that than not paying at all."
The waiter returned with their drinks. If they were going to use their Seals to order, they might as well go wild. So, Sunset ordered herself a cold sweet tea, some sake, and both put in for the all-you-can-eat.
Dinner passed by slowly. For once, Sunset welcomed it. The rest of the day had been glacial. This was the nice sort of slow, smooth, easy, friendly.
She asked about Starlight's day, Starlight told. Starlight tried again to ask about hers. Sunset kept much of it to herself at first, but the sake made her want to talk.
She still held most of it back. She was pretty awful at hiding her raw emotions, although she used to be excellent at it. Or had she just been hiding her lies?
In any case, she did tell her about the run-in with Tinsel. "So yeah. It was... strange. There was this part of me that kept thinking 'Come on, she's not nice. She's the b- the blowhard that bullied you'."
Starlight spoke around a tuna roll. "That doesn't seem entirely fair."
"No, no. It's not. I know that, but it's hard to shake the feeling, y'know? I spent so much of my life thinking I knew people, that I knew everything about their intentions and who they were and what they wanted. After a while, I started to realize I wasn't reading them. I was reading myself."
"Projection?"
"Preeeecisely." Sunset downed another shot of sake. She'd gotten tipsy by now, edges blurring at the corner of her vision, dim red a hint more bright and vibrant than earlier. She might stumble half a step if she got up too fast. Should probably stop here.
The waiter came. She ordered another one.
Sunset got herself fat on the fish. She told herself it was to balance the alcohol, but that would be a lie. For one, it wouldn't be enough. For two, she was saying that to make herself feel better.
Truth was, she wanted to gorge. She kept her meals small back home. It was a fear, a habit that stuck with her after her 'hobo' era.
And she wanted to be hot, to be sexy, so she restricted her intake and did all kinds of exercise to maintain her physique, to the degree she could rival Dash, and beat AJ in arm wrestling at least one for two.
The booze loosened her up. Didn't turn the thoughts off, but made them easier to ignore. Starlight made them easier to ignore. Chatting, dining, being in a whole other world.
It was different. This was different. She could let go. She was tired of being in control so often, and now she had a chance to relinquish some, only if for a night.
Sunset finished her sixth roll of the evening. Starlight looked at her. "Holy shiiii- Wow, Sunset. How aren't you stuffed yet? I'm still working on my third and I'm probably gonna quit after this."
"Been walking a lot," Sunset said. Wasn't a lie. Just a lot of omission.
Starlight shrugged. "Not my place to judge."
The waiter came by. "Ma'ams?"
Starlight shook her head. "Nothing for me."
He turned to Sunset. She smiled. "'nother sake?" she drawled. "And a Dragon Bomb, Griffon Snow, and some more gyoza."
He nodded, zipped off. Starlight shot her another look. "Speaking of not my place to judge."
"Yeah?"
"But do you think you've... maybe had a lot to drink?"
Sunset waved her off. "Don'worry about it." She ignored the way her syllables blurred together. "I'll be fine. Got a strong tolerance."
"How old are you again?"
"Shit, what's that matter?"
"Nothing. Nothing." Starlight sipped her water.
Sunset hadn't touched hers. Or anything besides the sake, after her tea. And she drank that about halfway before dumping a shot into it for some crappy Long Island Iced.
When they finished, Sunset couldn't hide the fact she was sloshed. Her cheeks burned. From embarrassment, from inner warmth, from... something about the way Starlight laughed.
'You're sick,' she thought. Stupor told her to shut up.
She drank. "God I'm a mess," she slurred.
"God?"
"Oh, right, heeheeheeheehee. Sooorry. Y'know how, like, Sun 'n Moon 'n Crown 'n junk get used here sommmetimes? Like, y'know, Sun damn it! Moon curse it! Crown above!"
A few ponies looked at the table. She was being loud. They didn't glare though, just seemed confused or surprised. Funny faces, shifting in the haze.
"Yeah?" Starlight asked.
"Well, on Earth, they got this super weird thing called, uhm. 'Religion'."
"We have that too."
"Yeah yeah but it's like, different, y'see? There are a few really big religions, nottabuncha lil' ones like we got here. Anyway, the big one in the country I'm in, they call this guy 'God'."
"God is a noun, not a name. Like Goddess."
"Right!?" Sunset cackled, slamming her hoof on the table with a hoot. "Humans are so fucking funny, oh my god. But anyway I had to start learning to start using words like 'God' and say stuff like 'Hand it over' and 'Slap on the wrist' 'cause their anatomy's not the same."
"Instead of what?"
"Hoof it over, slap on the fet. You would only say fuck instead of buck. Ain't any distinction."
"I see. I've only been there twice, and both times not for very long. It would be nice to go back there again."
"Heh. Yeah." Sunset smiled. It took effort. "Kinda missin' my friends already. Didn't think I would this quick." She sank into her seat, frowning. "Only been here five days. Buck me."
She sank deeper, blushed harder. Her hair fell over her face in a fiery waterfall. "I'm such a wreck." She said it with a smile, trying to make it jovial. "Lookit me! I'm a total mess, all drunk 'n sappy 'n shit. Prolly look like trash."
"I think you're beautiful."
Sunset froze. She blinked. Blinked, blinked, blinked.
"Wha?"
Starlight gestured, leaning back. "I think you're beautiful, Sunset. Your colors, the curls, the way you carry yourself. You can get a little out of control sometimes, but hey! I've done plenty of that myself." She tipped back her water, setting it down with a satisfied breath. "Anyone who doesn't see that is an idiot. That goes for you, too."
Sunset swallowed. Words pushed up. Caught. Failed in her throat. "I... thanks," she salvaged.
Starlight smiled, and tinked their glasses. "Don't mention it."