The sun shown bright and hot.

A whirlwind of activity and moving bodies amid a hot breeze, and in the middle of it an island of calm. A café table covered in plates filled with crumbs and mostly-eaten cucumber sandwiches and biscuits and Daylilies of all things, two princesses sipping tea, enjoying the moment.

“That was rather good.”

“Yes, you always do know the best spots, princess.”

A sly smiled on her lips. “I dare say it comes with the age.”

“I suppose three hundred isn’t close enough?”

A look of mock nobility. “The mere youth of a filly.”

A cynical chuckle, the toss of a lilac mane now turning silver, its pink stripe a little duller than years passed.

“Had enough did you?”

A deep, unhappy frown. “No.”

“Oh my,”—laughing—“Sorry. You know how it is. Surrounded by hundreds of ponies, all of them pretending not to see you, all of them watching you. We must show delicate restraint.”

Another cynical chuckle. “You know, if we actually gorged ourselves once I wonder what it might do to the modeling industry.”

A sip of tea. “You probably don’t want to know. Believe me.”

Ponies breezing by in a blur, in a passing shadow, hundreds of small noises and voices blending into a cacophony of gentle static. She looks at her Twilight, who is gazing off at something and wrinkling her slightly age-wrinkled nose, and at once her tea is both sweet and bitter on the same tongue.

“I…hope it wasn’t too difficult making your way here from the Griffon capitol.”

“Oh no, not at all. After you make the journey a couple hundred times nothing tends to bother you anymore.”

“I suppose so. I must say that even after becoming princess you still managed to surprise your old teacher, never settling and nesting in one place like I or Luna or even Cadance.”

A distant, sadly amused look in Twilight’s eye. “Always about, solving ponies’ interpersonal problems or off on some adventure or scientific research—I hardly know what to call home anymore.”

“My Wandering Princess. I’m surprised I didn’t think of the nickname.”

An awkward smile. “Yeah…”

A twitch of the wings. “…I do so miss your company, Twilight.”

Folded ears. “Me too, princess.”

“Spending time with you is always so refreshing.” A sigh. “I blame myself for cutting the leash so long ago, but—ah, bad metaphor, sorry, you know what a mean. But,”—a white hoof gently touches a dulled purple one—“I am so, so proud of all you have done and become Twilight. I could never say it enough, and don’t ever forget it.”

A bowed head, to hide a blush.

“Though, I almost…wish sometimes…”

“…Yes?”

A tilt of the head, a sudden smile. “Oh, nothing.”

A return to the stillness of before. Then Celestia stirs.

“Ah, I meant to ask,”—she rummages in her saddlebags—“I got this while we were in the market and you had your back turned.”

She pulls out a flaming red shawl and playfully wraps her head in it. “How do I look?”

Twilight holds up her tea cup to hide a smile, but there’s a glint in her eye.

“You’re very pretty.”

“I see that look, Twilight Sparkle,”—an amused, playful glare—“What are you thinking?”

A furrowed brow, a gently tapping hoof—she’s contemplating something. Finally, she speaks.

“Would you do a favor for an old, grumpy past student?”

“Anything.”

Twilight peaks into her own saddlebags and draws forth a piece of twine. It floats up to Celestia, a gentle, humming force suddenly taking hold of her mane like a comb and pulling it back. The twine secures it into a sort of ponytail.

“There. You look a hundred years younger!”

Celestia conjures a reflective surface to look at herself.

“I’ve always wanted to tell you to put your mane back like that. I didn’t, because…I knew you covered an old scar on that side. But…I once heard a pony say that the sunlight is good for scars…”

Celestia turns her head back and forth, a sensitivity in her eyes.

“Well…what do you think?”

A deep, loving grin. “Why Twilight, I do think you have the makings of a mane-stylist.”

A bark of laughter, a beam of pride, a show of adoration.

A hot breeze which blows some loose summer leaves by, a crash of cutlery off in the distance, a whining foal, a pony who bumps into Twilight’s chair and quickly utters apologies.

Unheard by the two of them, quietly sipping tea together, enjoying the moment.