Chapter 17: I can make her worse
- Location
- A single human dimension
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Special thanks to @saganatsu, @DB_Explorer, @fictionfan, @Adephagia, @Wordsmith, @Taut_Templar, Jamie Wahls, @Elfalpha, @BunnyLord, @Drcatspaw, @tinkerware, @Lonelywolf999, D'awwctor, @magicdownunder, @Mordred, @Nuew, and my 16 other patrons not mentioned here. An extremely enthusiastic "Thank you" to @Torgamous for her patronage as well. Also, if you're not on here, you fit the tier, and you want to be added, please tell me.
AN: Enabled and beta-read by @ensou.
Sunset Shimmer
Departing from the castle turned out to be rather more exciting than I had anticipated.
"What in Equestria happened here?" I incredulously asked the pair of Royal Guards standing on either side of an open doorway where the doors to my chambers used to be.
"Ah, I'm afraid that's above our pay grade, Lady Shimmer," one of the two guards said apologetically. "All we know is that they were destroyed during the Summer Sun Celebration. Nothing else was stolen or damaged."
Doors of that size would not have gone quietly, but the bulk of the hallway was as spotless as always. On a hunch, I looked straight up and promptly spotted a sizable shard of wood embedded in the ceiling.
Okay, one agitated alicorn breaking them from inside... Obviously, Celestia had entered my rooms via either the window or teleportation, then not bothered with physical barriers on her way to me. Knowing that taking two seconds to open doors normally was the slower option remained as impressive as any other alicorn feat.
I'll be able to do that soon, I thought eagerly.
I probably didn't have yet enough earth pony magic to repeat the feat, but I could at least start practicing. I entered what was now my bedroom and started retrieving supplies for Twilight's lesson with a spring in my step.
Or, actually, I should really bathe first. It's been a few days and eww.
Cadance and I met by one of the side entrances to the castle and began making our way outside in comfortable silence. It did not remain comfortable. Though she might be a disappointing disgrace to her title, Cadance was still technically a princess. Even with her wings hidden beneath saddlebags, it didn't take long for parasites to find us.
"Princess Cadenza! Why did you leave the Royal Hospital of the Two Sisters in tears yesterday?"
"Is it true that the 'pulse' felt during this year's Summer Sun Celebration was due to a failed attempt at alicorn ascension?"
"Lady Shimmer! Care to comment on allegations that you were witnessed with wings recently?"
Absolutely not, especially since transformation spells aren't illegal. Wings just end up vestigial.
"Was Lady Shimmer the one you and Princess Celestia were visiting in the hospital, Princess Cadenza?"
"For what reason was Lady Shimmer hospitalized?"
On my own end, I was having trouble not letting my ears flatten alongside backing away. I hadn't really noticed anything different when I was teleporting, but apparently my new proto-alicorn senses provided uncomfortable feedback when multiple ponies were focusing on me simultaneously. Their greed felt greasy.
I didn't know exactly where Twilight's house was, but I had ways around that. I directed magic to my horn, momentarily reveling in how much more I had now, and cast a quick tracking spell on Cadance's saddlebags.
"Meet you there," I said shortly, and began preparing a teleportation spell.
Cadance's head jerked toward me.
"Wha–this concerns you as well, you can't just–"
I teleported to a nearby rooftop and shuddered. After glancing around to make sure that nopony was looking at me, I manifested a quartet of brushes, plus illusory soap and water, and tried to get the unpleasant sensation of phantom grease off. If that sensation was something I would need to get used to, I was even more baffled and horrified by Celestia's decision to tolerate ponies acting like that. It felt disgusting!
Then again, maybe it was a sense related to my future as the Alicorn of Magic rather than something Celestia needed to deal with. Cadance certainly didn't seem like the sort to be able to tolerate such sensations. Or maybe it was something I could learn how to turn on and off, similar to how unicorns could learn to keep to themselves and ignore highly magical phenomenon with some practice?
Either way, the new sense was something that I would need to learn how to control sooner rather than later. The size of Celestia's throne room would likely provide enough distance to dampen the effect for most of Day Court, but entering and leaving the room would be an exceedingly unpleasant challenge.
The illusory shower did its job, and I mentally noted it down as a viable solution for recovering from such sensations in the future. Cadance had clearly resorted to speedy flight to escape the reporters while I was showering. I hoped she had the good sense to take a roundabout route to lose any tails; the last thing we wanted was to expose a foal to their greed — although, actually, maybe we did want that. Foals younger than thirteen were strictly off-limits for interviews without parental supervision, and I would take great glee in the ensuing legal consequences.
Following Cadance could wait until she slowed down, so I found a good alcove to settle down in–
I paused and mentally revised my estimate of "a good alcove." It had been some years since I'd needed to do anything similar to this, and I was over twice as large as I was back then. I would need to scrub out wherever I found before settling, too; I would hate to be dirty for my first meeting with somepony new. First impressions were important, and I might be busy, but I wasn't dirty no matter the insults that some tutors used to throw at me.
About ten minutes later, my tracking spell reported Cadance slowing to a more reasonable pace. I stood up, stretched, and chain-teleported my way to Cadance's current location. Thankfully, she seemed to be in one of the more upper-middle-class residential areas within Canterlot rather than somewhere more crowded. There was a peculiar prickling sensation as a few passing ponies momentarily focused their attention on me, but it passed within seconds. This was Canterlot. Teleporting unicorns were rare, but by no means unheard of.
"Sweet C–" Cadance cut herself off, and snorted. "Right. There you are. You know it's technically illegal for you to cast tracking spells on myself or my belongings, right?"
"Only if you press charges, and the punishment is usually a restraining order and community service," I said dismissively.
"I could, though," Cadance grumbled. "Serve you right for abandoning me to them in my time of need."
"If you need my help for dealing with a few reporters, then you're even more of–"
I cut myself off, remembering that we were in public. Insulting Cadance was fine in private, but even if many ponies viewed Cadence as more of a figurehead, insulting her would probably still be unacceptable. That her wings were hidden beneath saddlebags only fooled casual inspection.
"Well, if you did," I resumed, "Celestia would just lecture both of us about getting along. Besides, you should know better than to humor reporters by now. It only encourages them."
"There are benefits to being on good terms with the press," Cadance halfheartedly objected, but sighed. "They are pretty obnoxious, though, I will confess. And you don't have wings to evade them–"
I didn't think it was supposed to be a jab, but the reminder still stung.
"–so I suppose teleportation was your best option. Fine, I guess you're forgiven."
"I never apologized," I pointed out.
"I'll go old and grey before you start doing that," Cadance scoffed.
"You're immortal. You're never going to do either of those things."
Cadance shifted uncomfortably and briefly glanced around, possibly to ensure that nopony was paying too much attention to us.
"I still haven't really gotten used to that," she confessed. "I am still growing, and it's hard to believe that someday soon I'll just… stop. Forever."
"Not so soon," I disagreed. "Just look at how big Princess Celestia is. I'm not sure how long it took her to grow to the size of two ponies put together, excluding wingspan and auroras, but it's clear that alicorn maturity isn't the same as that of normal ponies."
"Actually, are we sure that she stopped?" Cadance asked mock-thoughtfully. "Maybe one day she'll grow to be as big as a house."
I shook my head. Judging by historical paintings, she'd worn her iconic regalia for multiple centuries at this point without needing to replace it. That wasn't an observation I intended to share, though.
"Have you seen how much cake she eats without consequences?" I instead scoffed. "No, I'm pretty sure she's done growing at this point."
Cadance's muzzle wrinkled.
"No, I think that's just the alicorn metabolism at work," Cadance said, pretend thoughtfulness turning genuine. "I know that I lost an unhealthy amount of weight back when I was first getting used to my new state, and she's in charge of the day/night cycle. I'm sure that burns a lot of sugars."
I grunted in acknowledgement, glanced at one of the cozy houses we passed, and reminded myself that I should have an actual plan for this coming foalsitting-slash-tutoring session. Deciding on content would need to wait until I had a better grasp of where Twilight was at, and while I'd been dismissive when Cadance made the claim originally, Twilight's use of logic and abnormal study techniques demonstrated that Cadance might actually have a point about her learning speed. I still didn't think Twilight would learn faster since Cadance was almost a grown mare, but I might not have to come up with separate lesson plans for each of them.
The bigger problem was with behavior. I didn't want to end up neglecting this filly the way that Celestia had neglected me, even if I didn't think this would turn into a long-term commitment. So I needed to ensure that Twilight was aware this would be a temporary arrangement, but leave her with enough tools to ensure that she could keep growing just fine on her own, without feeling like she would need to be confined to the pace of lazy 'friends' just to learn magic. I wouldn't apply a condition of needing to match Cadance's pace, in part because I felt confident that Cadance would slow down if I instituted that policy and Twilight proved too slow. Such slowing would teach Twilight multiple terrible lessons all at once.
Then again, it would likely take multiple months of tutoring before Cadance was competent enough for me to be able to learn from the Chain of Knowledge. I'd never been impressed by the teachers of Magic Kindergarten back when I'd been passing through, so we might be able to cover the entire multi-year curriculum during that time. Twilight should already be done with her first year, but that would still leave two to go.
Honestly, I still thought calling the entire early schooling period magic kindergarten was beyond stupid. Perceived progress was important for encouragement. I was guessing it was a jab at earth ponies and pegasi for only having one year of kindergarten, while unicorn magic was supposed to be more difficult and therefore superior. I, personally, suspected that it might be a case of not adequately tailoring their curriculum to a student's interests. Yes, they might still be too young for most ponies to know their Special Talents, but magic didn't need to be based on that. It was just easiest. Other interests and familiarity would work almost as well.
"Bit for your thoughts?" questioned Cadance.
I snorted and glared at her. Unlike yours, mine aren't that cheap.
"I am trying to figure out how to go about teaching your favorite little filly," I bit out. "Unlike the lazy lumps Celestia made me tutor before, Twilight sounds like she might actually be smart and motivated enough to spend effort on. I don't want to ruin a perfectly good unicorn."
As was becoming her unpleasant new norm, Cadance didn't appear dismayed by the tone that used to be quite effective. She acted as though I was speaking normally rather than expressing my displeasure. How could I start getting the point across again? Resort to too much cruelty for our 'bridge' to stay vaguely mended? That wouldn't be worth the fleeting satisfaction.
"You really don't need to worry so much," Cadance said, smiling. "Twilight is an absolute sweetie and I love her like a little sister. I promise that she'll love anything and everything you decide to teach her."
That level of attachment was probably dangerous for an immortal alicorn, but also something that I would acknowledge as inevitable. Knowing that long-term consequences might strike in a century seldom stopped anypony from doing something in the present.
"I'm not worried about her liking what I'm teaching. I just don't want to pull a Celestia and sign up for more obligations than I can fulfill. That means reasonable expectations, communicating that this will be temporary, not promising more than I'm certain I can deliver, and so on."
Cadance shifted slightly away from me, eyes wider than I felt the explanation warranted.
"Oh," she said weakly. "...Do you really need to go to all that trouble? You'll be tutoring me for a while, won't you?"
"'A while,' but not for Twilight's entire foalhood," I pointed out. "She'll be back to being bored in Magic Kindergarten soon enough, and I'll be busy learning from Mother."
The word was used to avoid saying, Princess Celestia. Cadance's startled twitch and shocked expression showed that she didn't take it that way, though. I rolled my eyes and sped up. Cadance hastily matched my pace.
"Auntie would love to hear you call her that as something other than a weapon, you know," Cadance ventured.
"Then maybe she should act like it," I snapped. "I don't know what you told her to make her ease up, but it's obvious that she only changed her mind because you were the one asking."
"No, that's—that's not why," Cadance claimed, visibly distraught. "She's trying, you know? She just has so many years of habits that don't work for personal relationships rather than subjects. I think you'll be very happy together once you get all these initial pains sorted out."
Celestia making excuses was nothing new. I'd started to think that Cadance actually recognized those excuses as such, though. Silly me.
"Sorted when? In her copious spare time?" I asked sarcastically. "I'm not going to get my hopes up."
I glanced around, wondering when we would actually arrive. The neighborhood had gradually transitioned from the more opulent homes near the castle, to upper middle class, to the more humble and cozier homes of skilled tradesponies.
"How far away are we, anyway?"
Cadance blinked, glanced around, and winced. She suddenly swerved and turned back around.
"It was three houses back, actually. Sorry."
I chuffed with annoyance, but obligingly turned back around to follow after her.
"You've trod this path how many times?"
"I was distracted, okay?" Cadance said defensively. "Now calm down, please. Twilight reflexively won't like you if you show up angry or arguing with me."
I obediently shoved my irritation and anger into a quick combustion cantrip and sent a short-lived fireball into the skies above us. Admittedly, it did last longer than I'd anticipated; rather than breaking apart into wisps within a second or two, it lasted ten. Apparently, my new status came with more perks than just extra raw power.
"...Was that necessary?" Cadance asked, wide-eyed.
"Shunting emotions into spells is a great way to calm down," I said impatiently, trotting toward the house in question.
"No, I'm—isn't that supposed to be a temporary measure? And possibly self-reinforcing? I remember reading something like that."
Twilight's home was a tidy, two-story structure with a small picket-fenced lawn. At a guess, the whole building would be smaller than Celestia's dining room — but considering everything in Canterlot Castle was oversized, that admittedly didn't say much. So, perhaps three bedrooms and two bathrooms, at a guess.
Cadance sped to a gallop in order to beat me to the door, and gently knocked on it. I refrained from a response.
I expected one of Twilight's parents to greet us at the door. Having it slowly slide open, tugged by an admittedly adorable little lavender unicorn too small to reach the doorknob without magic, was not quite what I expected. Even if her parents had work, shouldn't they at least have stuck around until Twilight's foalsitter arrived?
Her expression lit up with unrestrained delight when she saw Cadance, and she promptly skipped until she was right across from her foalsitter. I didn't expect Cadance to meet her halfway and begin some sort of weird greeting ritual.
"Sunshine, sunshine," the two chanted, bouncing on their hooves with heads held at the same level.
"-–ladybugs awake!" they continued, Cadance and Twilight covering and uncovering their eyes as though playing peek-a-boo.
"Clap your hooves–" The two performed a quick exchange of seated patty-cake.
"And do a little shake!" They concluded by, of all things, shaking their flanks at each other like they were drunken dancers at a peasant's party.
When Cadance stood back up, it was to my raised eyebrow. I wasn't going to indirectly bully a foal by verbally mocking something she'd just been a participant in, but Cadance...
...Was meeting my gaze without shame, and even a little challenge.
"I am immune to embarrassment," she lied, somehow straight-faced.
"No you're not!" Twilight promptly objected, high voice slamming my this filly must be protected instincts. "My BBBFF embarrasses you all the time! I've seen it!"
Cadance's mask of composure crumpled, and the teenage mare turned red with the same embarrassment that she'd claimed to be immune to mere moments before.
I like this filly already.
The filly in question finally seemed to register my existence, and lunged to half-hide behind Cadance. Only when I made no sudden moves did she slowly peek around Cadance's patiently unmoving form.
"Who are you?" Twilight dubiously demanded. "Cadance never brought any friends when she's supposed to be foalsitting me."
There was a touch of bitterness in her words and an emphasis to Cadance's name. I was guessing that somepony had once made the mistake of ignoring their charge in favor of messing around with friends. I could certainly understand the bitterness from being ignored in a similar way, Celestia.
"This is Sunset," Cadance introduced me, still not moving. "She's going to be teaching us some magic today."
Your normal foalsitter is awful at it, I resisted the urge to say.
Twilight's suspicion evaporated in an instant, replaced by the wide-eyed enthusiasm of a filly fixated on her currently favored subject of interest. She zipped out from behind Cadance to bounce before me, bouncing between hooves from sheer excitement.
"Oooh! What kind of magic? Are you open to questions?"
"That's two questions already," I dryly pointed out, making sure to smile faintly.
It was as much to test the waters as anything else. Whether she took it as a rebuke or not would tell me how careful I needed to be with her. The smile was definitely a good choice to include; rather than relying on assumptions, Twilight peered up at my expression before deciding she needed more information.
"I have lots," Twilight agreed. "If two is a status—statishtic—too many, then I will need to check my list of lists to decide which list to use, and then decide which questions are most important to ask. I will also need to ask Cadance about your Special Talent since she doesn't mind questions."
I would reluctantly admit that Cadance might have had a point about Twilight. She had implied a question, but carefully hadn't asked me about my Special Talent.
"Don't worry; you can ask whatever magic-related questions you want," I promised. "If you have too many for us to fit in before lunch — I have to go afterward — I can come back to help foalsit again another time."
Twilight turned around and trotted back inside. For a moment, I thought that she had given up already from sheer annoyance. Only when Cadance followed her in did I realize that Twilight had merely skipped inviting us inside.
Even after stepping into the combination living room and entryway, with a kitchen in front of us and stairs to our left, I still didn't see any sign of Twilight's parents or any older supervision to speak of. I shot a questioning look at Cadance. Apparently, the source of my concern was so obvious that she was able to pick up on it without explanation.
"Twilight's 'Big Brother Best Friend Forever' is at some summer camp hosted by the Royal Guard," Cadance murmured, "and her parents avoid me when they can. It wouldn't surprise me if they snuck out the back door when they saw me coming."
Twilight soon turned back toward us, still vibrating with excitement. Her horn lit while we settled in. A notebook and pencil easily floated from a nearby tea table and hovered next to Twilight, the pencil poised to take notes on any upcoming lesson. At the same time, three pillows floated off of nearby furniture and formed a little nest that Twilight promptly flopped atop. It was honestly an impressive level of telekinetic control for her age; Cadance still struggled with multiple objects herself.
"What's your Special Talent?" Twilight asked the moments our flanks settled atop our own chairs.
"Magic," I promptly replied.
The tiny unicorn stared silently as though urging me to elaborate. I remained silent. The sooner I got her asking as many questions as possible, the better. I'd learned from unpleasant experience that students often thought that incomprehension was an embarrassing failure, and then they wasted both our time by pretending they understood something when they didn't.
Go on, I silently urged. I don't bite ponies unless they deserve it.
Twilight broke within seconds, as expected.
"All magic, or a specific part of it?"
"All," I said.
I hesitated and considered my own claim. Technically, I didn't have enough experience with the earth pony or pegasus varieties to know whether I would love it enough for it to qualify as part of my Special Talent. I'd enjoyed the lessons with Spring Hail thus far, but that was mostly philosophy and theory. Practical application might be less fun.
"Well, all unicorn magic, at least," I acknowledged. "Plus a little zebra, and maybe a bit that theoretically works for everypony but that nopony was meant to know."
"Who decided that we aren't supposed to know about it?" Twilight promptly asked. "And if they know enough to say we shouldn't, doesn't that mean they'll always be breaking their own rule unless they resort to memory spells to remove the knowledge, and then they won't know why they banned it so they might check again to be sure that it's a good rule, and then they'll be rulebreakers twice over?"
This wasn't quite the direction that I'd expected the lecture to go, I would admit. Not even an attempt to chase after interesting forbidden knowledge, only about the pony instituting said ban. I was actually starting to regret mentioning it at all. I was trying not to be Celestia, and that meant refraining from dangling knowledge in front of ponies that they weren't allowed to have. Not even five minutes and I'd managed to go against exactly that.
"I'm the one saying nopony should know about it," I finally admitted. "I underestimated how dangerous it was and got very, very lucky. Statistically, the next pony to try would not be."
Twilight looked away from me to scribble down notes while I spoke. Finally, she dutifully nodded and looked back up.
"'The best magic is that which helps without harm, and gives more than it demands,'" Twilight quoted Starswirl the Bearded. "Plus, I'm not allowed to touch anything deemed 'dangerous' until I'm older than Cadance, and I haven't found any books with aging spells."
It was like seeing a tiny, lavender mirror of myself. Already finding solutions to problems that nopony else had considered, but really should have. I wondered if I'd need to bother dumbing down my lecture at all.
"Don't touch those," I advised. "The effects are only ever temporary if done well, but if done poorly, the side effects might be permanent. I think your parents meant that you're supposed to naturally grow until you're older than she is now."
Twilight turned huge, soulful eyes on Cadance.
"But that will take forever!" the foal whined.
I could see the exact moment where Cadance's will crumpled, and she would have done anything to make Twilight happy again. I glanced at Cadance long enough to roll my eyes at her and narrowly kept myself from patting Twilight's dismayed form.
"Don't worry," I reassured her, and Twilight's head jerked back toward me. "Ponies are oversensitive and call a lot of things 'dangerous' that aren't. You'll have plenty to learn in the meantime."
"Oh!" Twilight perked up. "Is that why you undereth—underesh—"
"Underestimated?" I prompted.
"That!" she agreed. "It's like The Colt who Cried 'Timberwolf,' isn't it? If ponies mishclas— put warnings on everything, then nopony will listen when they really are dangerous?"
She wasn't exactly wrong, although to be fair, most of those warnings weren't meant for me.
"Yes and no. Most ponies don't have any idea what they're doing, so the warnings are appropriate for them. But those warnings are usually for when ponies cast spells wrong. The ritual I performed could have gotten me very, very badly hurt even though I'd done everything right."
"You're allowed to say 'died.' I know what it is," Twilight said matter-of-fairly. "But if you don't know what spells are dangerous when done wrong and which ones are dangerous when done right, then how do you know that it's safe to try at all?"
"With a teacher to guide you. Good so you know what to do right, or bad so you know what not to do. And speaking of which, I'm fine with answering questions about spell safety, but didn't you want to learn magic?"
Twilight nodded eagerly, but still justified herself.
"Establishing credentials is important so I know whether or not I should listen to you," came the too-innocent reply.
My eyebrows crept up. That was not a concern I would expect from a filly from, as far as I was aware, a middle-class family with no notable pedigree. That she'd been able to pronounce the words properly and therefore likely used them before was even more surprising.
"Is that something you've had problems with before?" I guessed.
Twilight nodded vigorously.
"Mrs. Comport at Magic Kindergarten always insists that her way is the only way of doing things, and I wasted months trying her method of levitation before I borrowed some of my BBBFF's books and found a way that actually made sense. Everypony laughed at me!"
A sudden, sinking sense of dread made itself known. It should not have taken Twilight, of all ponies, months to learn something as simple as levitation. Especially not now that she was levitating five items at an age where most would struggle with one.
"She tried the 'ball of yarn' comparison, didn't she?"
I might actually have to declare war on the local educational system at this rate. It was one thing to teach foals a sub-optimal method. It was another to do such a poor job that exemplary foals saw the flaws, and subsequently fell behind when the teacher didn't have a more accurate alternative prepared. Magic was personal for every pony, and therefore behaved a little differently for all of us; not all metaphors could work for everypony. It was like insisting that some ponies should hold pencils with their hooves instead of their mouths. Trying to force compliance would just leave some ponies out in the cold — and if everypony started doing that, the cold would become very literal as windigos approached.
"Yes!" Twilight exclaimed. "I knew it couldn't be right because then nopony would be able to spin multiple objects in an orbit without the 'threads' getting tangled! But nopony believed me because they could get it working just fine, and—and–"
For several seconds, I worried that I would have a sobbing filly on my hooves. Twilight took several deep breaths while Cadance darted forward to scoop her into a hug, and the combination of the two measures seemed to be enough to fend off tears.
"Hey, it's okay, it's okay," Cadance said soothingly.
This was, apparently, too much of a lie for Twilight to tolerate.
"No it's not!" Twilight disagreed in a tone that wasn't quite a wail. "I couldn't find a course guide so I couldn't learn the spells early, and Mom and Dad said that even if I could I would still need to go and it's not fair! Why do I need to go spend time around mean ponies if I'm just going to need to read in the corner anyway?"
If I didn't know any better, I would suspect Cadance of outright coaching Twilight on what to say. Every word that escaped her mouth might as well have come from a lavender-colored mirror image of myself. Oh, I was always careful to mind my tone and avoid tears when complaining, but I'd certainly thought all that.
"School is much more fun once you find some like-minded friends," Cadance claimed. "Magic Kindergarten is as much about learning how to make friends as it is learning magic."
Celestia said the same thing about her own school, too. It never worked out. Despite Cadance's attempt, Twilight lost the battle of self-control, and we'd managed to reduce our charge to tears within five minutes.
"But I tried making friends, and it didn't work!" Twilight wailed. "I don't wanna go back in the Fall! Not even for magic! Everypony there is mean! Books don't call me names or try to make me use magic wrong or call me a liar for saying you're my foalsitter!"
Cadance did a remarkably good impression of a deer subjected to an overly bright hornlight. I was feeling plenty alarmed myself. Twilight had gone from adorably enthusiastic to distressingly upset in the span of about two minutes, and I had absolutely not signed up for the latter. I did know a possible solution to the problem, though.
"Hey, want to learn how to terrify bullies into leaving you alone?" I asked brightly.
Twilight's tears didn't quite cut off altogether like fake tears would, but they did quiet enough to demonstrate that she was trying very hard to listen. Cadance looked at me with gratitude that lasted for all of half a second before turning to horrified suspicion, her brain likely taking that long to notice the 'terrify' part of my offer.
"Is the right answer 'no'?" Twilight asked suspiciously, in a tone that I thought meant she would like to learn. "I tried a Sight Unseen charm once and got in trouble for being absent even though I wasn't and waited until after roll call."
If I was remembering right, Sight Unseen should have been trickier than the worst of what Magic Kindergarten had to offer. Her teachers should have recognized that; her horrible school truly was holding Twilight back.
"There is no right or wrong answer, but I can personally attest to its effectiveness if you use it right," I promised.
Cadance's suspicion turned to certainty and horror.
"Sunset," she scolded me, "you are not teaching her how to set ponies on fire!"
"Only their manes!" I reflexively protested. "Seriously, why does everypony always act like I didn't put a timer on the cantrip?"
Twilight looked at me with wide, interested eyes. She wiped her tears on Cadance's coat and smiled weakly.
"You are now my third favorite foalsitter," Twilight announced.
Considering that my competition was probably Cadance and Twilight's own sibling, I'd take that.
"Twilight!" Cadance gasped, scandalized.
Despite the theatrics, she was shaking in what I recognized as suppressed laughter. Considering that she was still hugging Twilight, it wouldn't surprise me if the filly picked up on it, too.
"I'm sorry," Twilight said, sounding sincere. "But as you are very fond of reminding us, Cadance, we are spesh—meant to ignore your status as a princess while in the house, and you never taught me magic. Sunset clearly knows more, and ponies are supposed to listen to experts."
I was guessing that Twilight was butchering something Cadance had said about Twilight's household treating her normally, but I certainly wasn't going to complain.
"So!" I said cheerfully. "First rule of fire spells: unless you really want to destroy whatever you're aiming at, don't provide much more magic than is needed for initial ignition. Fire spreads very easily if you aren't careful."
Twilight's telekinetically controlled pencil took frantic notes as I spoke, its owner obviously paying close attention.
"No, really," Cadance butted in. "Twilight, you would get in very big trouble if you set any ponies on fire, even if it's 'just' their manes."
Twilight's pencil and person froze, and the filly gasped in horror. Still thinks that getting in trouble is the end of the world, huh? We should work on that.
"Not necessarily," I disagreed. "I'll need to review the legal precedent and get back to you, but there are multiple situations for which she would be completely in the right, such as self-defense. At worst, I'm sure she can pointedly set fire to a manequin she brings to class, and I'll happily pay the resulting fine."
Twilight's eyes darted between me and Cadance as though unsure as to which of us she was supposed to believe. Cadance switched tactics.
"Twilight, a lot of ponies don't like Sunset because she did something similar at one point," Cadance said. "So even if she's right and you might be able to escape without getting in criminal trouble, a lot of ponies will be afraid and won't want to make friends with you."
Wrong tactic, Cadance. Not everypony gets to live in a happy world where they get hoofed friends, family, and status for doing barely anything.
"But—they already don't like me," Twilight said plaintively.
"And you don't need them to," I insisted. "If they're cowardly enough to be scared off by second-hoof accounts, they weren't worth making friends with anyway."
Twilight slowly relaxed, much of the earlier eagerness returning. Cadance, realizing she'd lost this battle, halfheartedly glared at me.
'I should never have brought you along,' Cadance mouthed. 'You are a terrible influence.'
'You're just upset because my arguments are better,' I smugly mouthed back.
"Fire?" Twilight prompted us, eyes shining with eager hope.
Cadance's sides shook with suppressed laughter, and I knew that I'd won. Perhaps Cadance was right and this 'foalsitting' activity would be worth it after all, if only for this specific filly.
Last edited:
