My hair had to look perfect.

I poked and prodded at it as I peered at myself in the mirror, tried to get the wave at the end just right, ran my hoof along the jagged red and yellow stripes. The same colors as the flaring sun in my cutie mark, which only made me think of… of [i]her[/i].

A vibrant sun on her side as well, but hers lit up a whole room, a city, a [i]world[/i]. I used to think I could rival her. Not anymore, though. Not now.

With a sigh, I trotted out the door and into the—[i]her[/i] sunlight. I didn’t even bother with my saddlebags. Everything, left behind.

I’d navigated the streets of Canterlot so many times that I didn’t even need to stay conscious of my surroundings. Just… the look on her face. What would Celestia do? Smile down on her former student? Scowl and scream at me to get out? Whatever she chose, I’d repay it in kind: bask in her approval or slink back to what had become my home, if I even dared to fling some accusatory words at her first.

Her lips, pronouncing whatever judgment she saw fit, wrenching them from her throat or letting a honeyed sweetness glisten on them. It all played in my head in slow motion while my unseeing eyes somehow kept me from colliding with the vast crowds that never seemed to have anywhere to go. Did ponies just mill about this city for lack of anything more entertaining to occupy them?

“Name?”

My withers jerked as I blinked up at the guard, his wings half-spread.

“Um… Sunset Shimmer. I have an appointment.”

His clipboard whisked to the side, and he gaped at me. “Sunset? Is that really you?” He grabbed me by the shoulder and laughed as if somepony had told him an inside joke. “I haven’t seen you in ages! It’s me, Silver Spear! Do you remember?”

“Y-yeah,” I said, giving him a crooked smile. “It’s been a long time.” I had no idea who he was.

“Wow, you must have graduated years ago! What have you been up to?”

“Not much, just…” I couldn’t look him in the eye. It felt—it felt great, having him actually care about me like that. Like flitting a little above the ground. But lying to him… Normally I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. Sometimes, that would be easier. “I shouldn’t keep Princess Celestia waiting.”

He only beamed back. “Of course, of course! I’ll escort you up and have you announced.”

“No, please,” I replied, staring harder at the cobblestones. “I don’t want to make a big deal about it.”

Like a scarecrow coming undone from its post, he slumped against the guard shack. “You sure? She’ll be happy to see you.”

“She will?” I couldn’t keep from meeting his gaze again, and he nodded as if imparting a solemn vow.

“Yeah. But if you’d rather keep it low-key, I can understand. Go on up,” he said, waving me past.

So I smiled at him, the crinkle in his eyes warming me. “Thanks, Silver Spear.”

I [i]didn’t[/i] remember the castle that well, at least not the lesser-traveled parts of it, but after a few false turns, I arrived at the nondescript oak door that Raven had mentioned in her return letter. Princess Celestia would receive me in her private study, at two o’clock sharp, and given the number of times she must have summoned any one of her personal students here to turn in an assignment, take on a task, or—a shudder ran down my back—endure a lecture, I should have been able to find it blindfolded.

The carillon across town rang out its second chime, and with the convoluted melody it played on every hour, it didn’t get to actually tolling the hour until a few minutes after. I was late.

Just a simple door. I could easily knock, but my mind instantly wandered to all the ways I might dash out of here and forget this whole business. I didn’t need her. I [i]didn’t[/i].

So I knocked, quietly. She wouldn’t hear, and I’d leave, and I could say I’d tried. But the door creaked open, too soon, as if she’d stood waiting on the other side, tensed for any small cue.

Princess Celestia peered out at me, and her eyes danced, but she wrested them under her control, melding her lips into a taut line before beckoning me in. Nothing. I felt [i]nothing[/i] from her, and… and I’d made a terrible mistake! I shouldn’t [i]be[/i] here, just turn and run and never come back!

But that way, I’d never know. I gritted my teeth.

I sat in the chair she offered me, and she proceeded past her desk to the sofa across a low table from me. And she watched. This stupid chair, old and wobbly and threadbare, and surely it hadn’t changed since I last disgraced this city with my presence. The short leg clunked against the floor with my trembling.

“I won’t hurt you,” she said, in such a level tone she might have been the voice of a dictation spell.

I could feel the worry lines cutting into my face like a dried-out mud flat, and why did she have to keep it so cold in here? At least I had my tail to curl around me and keep me warm, but still I shivered.

“Please.” She pointed at a tea service on the table. “Have something hot to drink.”

I had never liked tea, but I poured a mug and gathered it up by my face, letting the steam radiate over my skin as I clutched the heated ceramic against my pasterns. A brown-tinted traitor stared back at me from the rippling surface, but not even that dark hue could tone down the icy blue of my eyes, a blizzard amid the swelter. “Thank you,” I muttered into the cup, ringing hollow. It had a nice scent of cinnamon, so I took a small sip.

She didn’t even bother picking up her tea, content to leave it on the table and swirl it around with her magic. Only the plate of cookies momentarily diverted her attention, but she wouldn’t take one. She was holding back. A blank slate, and I’d [i]never[/i] called her that before. Always, her emotions blazed forth like the sun on her flank, on… on [i]our[/i] flanks, but she remained locked in a dungeon of her own making.

My hooves shook again, and my head buzzed, worse and worse, until I thought I might pass out, and I staggered upright. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here,” I said, but—

“No!” I’d never heard such a plaintive wail compressed into one tiny word before, but it slammed into my ears like a cannon shot. “Please. Don’t go.” My knees buckled, and I rolled back onto the chair awkwardly. My chest… [i]tingling[/i], but warm. Finally warm again.

Maybe she still cared.

She sidled to the edge of her seat and craned her neck forward like a foal on Hearth’s Warming imagining the best possibilities of what a carefully wrapped box might contain. “Why did you ask to see me?”

For a moment, I considered telling her the truth: that I hadn’t been feeling [i]right[/i] for a while, and I couldn’t remember feeling right since the last time I’d come here, and… and I [i]needed[/i] her. Yes, I could live without her, but I’d gotten tired of simply living. “Uh…”

Celestia smiled at me. “Whenever Twilight Sparkle comes back through the mirror, she tells me about all the good things you’ve done.” Still holding something back. She wanted to say more. That it wasn’t enough? That I could never make up for the way I’d stormed off years ago?

But she didn’t know… No, what [i]did[/i] she know? An argument, a disappointment, her promising student running away, returning as a common thief, and unleashing magic upon a world that didn’t know what to do with it. Honestly, I didn’t have a much better picture of events. So long ago, and that wasn’t me, not the [i]real[/i] me.

“I… I wanted to tell you…” She leaned forward. “It wasn’t easy to come here.”

“I know,” she replied. “I appreciated hearing from you—through my assistant, that is—but believe me, I know.”

So [i]warm[/i], and I finally stopped trembling. A little sip of tea wouldn’t hurt, and if it set her at ease—as if [i]she[/i] was the one who should calm down. Still, I took a small swallow and gave a thin smile as if it tasted good. but the bitterness crept in. Just the tea, no, [i]no[/i], I couldn’t—

A sharp sigh, and I cradled my cup in my forelegs. The last time I’d seen her, she gave me a chance. One I didn’t deserve, but then she was just like that. “It’s good to see you again,” I said.

And not like that guard… I couldn’t even remember his name, only ten minutes later. But Celestia. Nopony forgets her.

Celestia only sat up straighter, another part of her workday, another faceless supplicant begging her for something she couldn’t understand, not in her position. When did she ever find herself in need?

Maybe today she did. I’d wasted enough of her time already, but she hadn’t glanced at the clock once. She’d happily sit here all day with me, even if I never spoke another word, but she was waiting. She wanted me to say it. Maybe she [i]did[/i] have needs.

Another draught of tea, down quickly, and the bitter flavor turned my stomach. “I’m sorry,” I said. I couldn’t look her in the eye. “What I did, I—”

Before I could move, she practically leapt at me, and she curled her wings around me. And the flood of—I gagged, shuddered, nearly retched. Had she poisoned my tea? Those suffocating feathers, all over! I strained, pushed against her wings, scrabbled with my hooves until she let me go, then jumped toward the wall, slid down it to the floor.

Wrong, so [i]wrong![/i] She [i]did[/i] love me, but… such guilt, such regret. My throat spasmed, and I sucked in a cold breath, my mouth agape and a line of drool running down my chin. How could she [i]live[/i] like this?

I swallowed down the bile threatening to spill out on the floor, and when I glanced up, she hung there like a rag doll, positively [i]stricken[/i]. “I’m sorry,” I wheezed as I fought off another gag. No, no, she hadn’t poisoned me. Why did my mind go there first? She wouldn’t harm me, but I’d picked the wound raw, and I shouldn’t have ever come, shouldn’t have ever presumed to write her that letter saying I wanted to.

“It’s not your fault,” I said. “I don’t blame you.” Whatever would get me out of here quickly, but… I [i]meant[/i] it.

“Nopony is ever completely right,” she answered.

This place—it was supposed to end all my problems. It was a stupid idea from the start. [i]Just take the damned absolution, Celestia! Take it so I can leave![/i]

“Every student is different, and I try to gauge how much freedom to allow them, but sometimes I get it horribly wrong.” She took a cautious step toward me, and when I didn’t flinch, she put a hoof on my shoulder, all that warmth, that sweetness coursing along her touch.

“When I first watched you studying with your classmates, you made an obvious natural leader—a chemistry lesson, I think,” she said with a small giggle. “You had a plan of attack to get them all remembering the element symbols, you guided them through it, quizzed them—even praised them for getting it right! I had a brilliant ambassador of friendship and scholarship on my hooves!”

Her smile only radiated more. If I could live on that alone, I’d stay in this place forever.

“Your little group: Secant, who could barely see through his tangles of mane, Lace Doily, who I’m not sure I ever heard speak, Ginkgo and his ability to dredge up the most useless and obscure facts about anything. You were inseparable that first year.” Celestia nearly coughed, and she stared intently at the wall. “My word, when you had them in your corner, you could manage the most impressive feats of magic, like none I’d ever seen before—”

Her gaze quickly swiveled back to me, and her voice dropped low. “I heard about Midnight Sparkle. I always knew you had that potential, but I never expected it to shine that brilliantly.”

I could hear the next “but…” coming.

Her fragile grin faltered. “You grew impatient though, began chastising them. You made Lace Doily do your homework. I had faith that she’d stand up for herself, that you’d recognize the pain you’d caused her… but I’d misjudged more than one pony. And in the end, I’d failed you both by not acting to stop it.”

So [i]sour[/i]. I wrenched my throat closed to hold it in. It wouldn’t do to get sick right here in her office!

She hugged me tighter. “I’m so proud of what you’ve become.”

No… no more! A ragged breath scraped its way out of my chest, and I wriggled free of her embrace. I… I couldn’t do this to her. She gaped at me, her jaw trembling, as I stood by the doorway, but—

What in the name of Tartarus was wrong with me? Why would I even care? But I had to get out of here, had to end this the best way I could, for [i]her[/i].

“I don’t belong here,” I said. “I’ve known that for some time. But what I need [i]you[/i] to know—and you [i]have[/i] to believe me on this!—is that I’m happy there. I really am. I don’t blame you at all, and look at the good that’s come from it!”

Her eyes teared up, and she wanted me to stay, but I couldn’t, I [i]couldn’t[/i]. This had to stop. [i]I[/i] had to stop.

She felt like she’d done something wrong. But she hadn’t. That warmth, still so [i]sour[/i], and my gut churned. “Please,” I said. “Everything’s going well, on the other side of the mirror. I’ve found my place, where I fit in. Really.”

I forced a smile, and her posture relaxed, so she must have believed it. “Good,” she answered, blinking her tears away. “I’m glad.”

“I’ll write to you. I promise. Or… it’s alright with me if Twilight shares the journal with you. Then you can keep up.”

Too short, too incomplete, I knew, but as a first step… She’d take it gladly. So she nodded. “I love you,” she said quietly. I almost answered.

But I left, slowly, reluctantly at first, then faster, through the halls, past the guard at the gate, thankfully occupied with somepony else, and I dashed through street after street until I found an alley with nopony around, and all that sourness finally broke free—I vomited into an open garbage can, over and over, and when the nausea had died down, the stink of it made my stomach clench again, until I’d purged all that foulness from my stomach.

Such [i]guilt[/i].

Something like that, irrevocably woven into the love, ruined it, [i]poisoned[/i] it. Enough, and I couldn’t help feeling it myself: what I’d done, [i]the horrible things I’d done[/i].

I lay there panting in a cold sweat until the sun had dipped low in the sky, and Celestia would be making it set and… I didn’t know why, but the image made me sad. On my own. It hadn’t come from anywhere. Things ending, her, thinking I’d gone, and [i]let her mind be at ease[/i].

Why… why would I want that? Maybe I hadn’t retched out every trace—I forced a hoof down my throat, but I could barely even cough up a trickle of bile.

This hadn’t come from Celestia.

Hoofsteps. Some mare, back at the alley’s entrance, eyed me coughing and spitting. “You poor dear!” she said, and she left some bread on a discarded box before pursing her lips and shaking her head.

For me?

Yes. The warmth—yes, for me. My nausea abated. A little. But I didn’t need her bread. She’d already fed me. Not like Celestia could have—what a powerful love she had! As someone she loved a great deal, whom few others would recognize, who would probably never come here. I’d learned enough about her by sneaking into Twilight’s castle. Maybe if I’d actually gone through the mirror.

No, no, it wouldn’t have worked. I could have set myself for life, but I couldn’t [i]do[/i] that to her, and I couldn’t figure out [i]why![/i]

So it’d all end. Relegated to dredging up what little scraps of love I could. How [i]royal[/i].

I didn’t need the bread. I’d leave it for somepony who’d live another day because of it. Maybe I could help—

My head hurt, all [i]dizzy[/i], and I wasn’t even thinking right—[i]helping[/i] a pony?—so I retreated into the deeper shadows and shed my disguise, all of it. And as I stretched out my wings, they glittered, just a little, in the faint moonlight.

I didn’t know what that meant. But I didn’t like it.

On filly’s legs, I darted out into the street to find some vagabond I could lead back to that bread, and he’d take pity on an orphaned child, offering to share it with me. I’d insist he eat it, and I’d have my fill anyway.

Somewhere nearby, Celestia would sleep well tonight. I shouldn’t have wanted her to.