It was, by all accounts, a beautiful day. The sun shone brightly, the grass was green and springy underhoof, and the temperature was just brisk enough that a fashion-conscious pony could justify wearing a scarf, but not so cold that she couldn’t leave it behind at home if she decided that the print on it wasn’t quite as fetching as she’d imagined it was when she bought it. It was the sort of day about which no reasonable pony could possibly complain.

“Oh sweet Celestia, this weather is the worst!” cried Sunset Shimmer, smacking a hoof against the window in frustration.

“I’m right here, you know,” said Princess Celestia, a smile curling the corners of her lips. She joined her newest student at the window, looking out upon the city of Canterlot in all its sprawling glory. “There’s no need for such dramatics, I’m sure.”

Sunset was not mollified. “But look! There’s no snow, and Hearth’s Warming is tomorrow! How are we supposed to have a Hearth’s Warming with no snow?”

Celestia put a wing over Sunset’s back, guiding her gently away from the window and back toward the center of the castle chamber. “I have seen hundreds of Hearth’s Warmings, Sunset Shimmer, and I can assure you that a lack of cold has never once caused the holiday to be cancelled. In fact, in some of the southern parts of Equestria, it almost never snows for Hearth’s Warming, and ponies still—”

“I don’t care what they do in the south! There’s supposed to be snow on the ground for Hearth’s Warming! There’s always snow!”

Celestia’s face became more neutral, and Sunset sank into her wing, suddenly aware that the Princess was no longer humoring her. “Sunset, what three words have I asked you to stop using in my presence?”

“Idoncare”

“Sunset…”

“‘I don’t care.’ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I just…” Sunset looked down. “...I like the snow. And it should snow for Hearth’s Warming.” She scuffed a hoof. “It always snows for Hearth’s Warming.”

Celestia smiled again. “Perhaps it always has in your lifetime, my dear student, but I assure you that this will not be the first time I’ve seen the spires of Canterlot bare for the holidays. And speaking from experience?” She bent down, and looked Sunset in the eye. “Those years were no less special to me.”

Sunset nodded weakly. “Okay, Celestia,” she said in a voice that made it clear her doubts still lingered.

Celestia nodded back, then straightened and walked to the door. “I have business to attend to, but I would very much like to see you again this evening. Okay?”

Sunset nodded one more time, and Celestia opened the door. Pausing as she exited, she looked back to her student, her face already the opaque mask of neutrality mixed with maternal protectiveness which she invariably wore in court. “Oh, and Sunset? Until then, perhaps you might consider reflecting on the history of Hearth’s Warming.” A knowing grin peeked through the mask, just for a second. “I think you’ll find your concerns put at ease soon enough.” With that, she closed the door gently.

‘Reflecting on the history of Hearth’s Warming’ might have struck some as a kindly way of brushing a pony off, but Sunset Shimmer knew better. She’d been the princess’s prize student for almost a year now, and she knew a test when she saw one. So the passage of an hour saw her hunched over a heavy oak table near the back of the royal library, head in a history book, as she looked for some clue as to what Celestia might have meant. Page after page flew by as she muttered to herself, trying to find something that would ‘put her concerns at ease.’

“Ah-HAH!” she cried triumphantly, leaping up on the table and dramatically planting her hoof in an illustration from the first Hearth’s Warming. At last, she knew exact—

“Shhh!” shushed a matronly librarian. Sunset bristled, but got down off the table and took her seat quietly.

“Ah, hah,” she whispered, gently setting her hoof on an illustration of the first Hearth’s Warming. At last, she knew exactly what Celestia had meant.

The Explosive Runes Memorial Study Hall at Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns was a busy place, most of the year. At a school where hundreds of the most promising foals from across the land came to take some of the most academically rigorous courseloads available, studying was both an essential and frequent part of every student’s day.

Of course, there was no studying to be done on the day before Hearth’s Warming, but the Hall still saw some use. Although most students spent the winter break with their families, every year saw a few foals who, for one reason or another, were spending the holiday on-campus. Some were orphans; some simply came from so far away that a trip to and from the far reaches of Equestria was more trouble, or more costly, than it was worth. For these students, the Hall acted as a communal space, desks and study lamps pushed aside to make room for comfortable reading chairs, board games, and (when there weren’t any adults watching) the usual roughhousing that comes from sticking a dozen youth in an enclosed space. It wasn’t home, but it wasn’t the worst possible substitute, all things considered.

The main door to the Hall slammed open, and a moderately-chilly wind gusted in. The ponies in the hall looked up to see another foal standing ominously in the doorway. “Hey, it’s Sunset!” said one of them, oblivious to her aggressive stance. “Boy, I haven’t seen you since the Princess picked you to study with her! Are you here to—”

“Hello, losers,” sneered Sunset, and the pony recoiled. She stalked into the room, circling the students like a fuzzy red-maned shark. “I’m not gonna keep you all for long, but there are a few things I wanted to tell you.”

Without warning, she pounced in front of one of the foals. “Coral Shine!”

The filly in question flinched, then tentatively opened one eye to find Sunset’s face mere inches from her own. “Um… y-yes?”

Sunset’s grin somehow became even more predatory. “Well, I just thought you might want to know that Celestia’s been talking about you recently.”

Coral gasped, and her eyes glimmered with a mix of apprehension and hope. “R-really?” For all that the Princess maintained a hooves-off approach to her namesake school’s academics, every student dreamed of catching her eye.

“Really.” Sunset abruptly leaned back. “She said you’re the dumbest, most hopeless student she’s ever seen at this school. She told the dean you’d probably cheated on your entrance exam, since you’re too stupid to have possibly earned a spot here.”

Coral brought her hooves to her mouth, eyes already watering. Another student hurried to her side. “The Princess didn’t say that!” she cried. “You’re just making stuff up to make Coral feel bad. Sunset, what’s gotten into you?”

Sunset merely fluffed her hair. “Hey, who’s Celestia’s personal favorite student ever? Oh yeah, it’s me!” She shrugged. “Whatever, I just thought maybe Coral would want a heads-up so she could start packing. They’re probably gonna throw her out any day now. At least this way it won’t be a surprise, right?”

The other filly wasn’t deterred. “Yeah, well, I don’t believe that! The Princess is too nice to do that!”

Sunset rounded on her. “Oh yeah, Blue Belle? If she’s so nice, then how come she keeps all your letters from home?”

Blue Belle started to answer, but cut herself off as she processed what she’d just heard. “Bec—wait, what?”

“Oh yeah, of course!” Sunset shook her head sympathetically. “You told me you didn’t know why you’d only gotten two letters from home? It’s because Celestia’s been stealing your mail. She reads me the letters, and we laugh about how stupid and sappy they are, and then we burn them in the fireplace!” She patted Blue’s head. “Don’t worry, though. We sent your folks a postcard from you a few weeks ago that said you hated them and never wanted to see them again. We were getting soo tired of all those letters asking why you never wrote. That ought to slow them down, don’t you think?”

Blue gaped. “Why would you…”

“Because,” Sunset said, “Me and the Princess are better than you. She’s teaching me how to treat the peons beneath my hooves, and there’s no better example of worthless ponies than you lot.”

She turned to a new pony. “Largo? We have a bet on why you’re so fat. I say you eat too much because it helps you forget that nopony loves you. Celestia thinks it’s because you’re just too weak to not keep stuffing your face.” She turned again. “Ludvig? That stupid foreign food you eat makes you smell. That’s why you’re assigned seat is always in the back of the class; nopony wants to be downwind of you!” Another turn. “And you, Berry Puree?” She leaned forward eagerly. “Do you remember that time you tripped and fell down the stairs, right in front of the colt you had a crush on?” The filly cowered as Sunset cackled viciously. “It was me, Berry! IT WAS MEEE!”

Throwing back her head as she cackled in triumph, Sunset trotted gleefully back to the open door. She paused there a moment, looking out at the sunny skies, and then back at the foals, now huddled together in the center of the room. They stared at her; some with tears running down their cheeks, others seething with barely-contained rage. She lifted a hoof to her chin.

“Oh right, there was one more thing.” She cleared her throat, as though preparing to read a statement. “The only reason any of you are here instead of at home is because your parents hate you. Or they’re dead.”

With that, she slammed the door behind her, and returned her gaze the the sky. “COME ON, WINDIGOES!” she cried, “BRING ON THE SNOW!” Then, she hurried down the street; there was still a lot of hatred to spread, if she was going to save Hearth’s Warming.

Celestia loomed menacingly over Sunset Shimmer.

Sunset Shimmer spread her legs and stood her ground.

After a tense moment, Celestia sighed and took a seat. Sunset remained standing. “Sunset,” Celestia said, rubbing the bridge of her nose with a hoof. “Would you care to tell me why I’m returning from court to find that you’ve been restricted to my chamber ‘for your own good?’”

“You already asked the guard,” Sunset said, unable to keep the pout from her voice even as she continued to glare. “Why don’t you tell me what he said?”

Celestia sighed again, but didn’t argue. “According to him, you’ve been spending the afternoon running around town, insulting everypony you met. He tells me he literally followed a path of crying fillies and colts to find you, before taking you here.” She pursed her lips. “He also tells me that you told him, and I’m quoting, that ‘you should enjoy you power trip while he can, because when I become princess I’m going to confiscate your house, throw your family in the dungeon, and laugh as I watch you beg for bits on the street like the dirty mule you are.’”

Sunset didn’t flinch. “I don’t care if it’s rude, mules are dirty.”

“What three words have I—”

“I DON’T CARE!” Sunset cried. “I don’t care, Celesta! I did exactly what you asked, and what happened? I got picked up by the scruff of my neck and sent to teacher’s room like a little foal! What was this supposed to teach me, Celestia? Huh? What?”

Celestia shook her head. “Sunset, what do you think I was trying to teach you?”

“You said I should study Hearth’s Warming, so I could fix this stupid weather,” Sunset said. Her eyes started to water, but she soldiered on. “You said if I did, I’d figure out how to make everything better. And I did!” She sniffed. “But even though I tried to make everypony really mad, the windigos never came. And then your stupid guard locked me in here.”

Celestia stood, then slowly trotted to the window. “Sunset,” she began, peeking between the drawn curtains and peering outside, “Do you really think that I would want you to spread anger and sadness across the city? Do you truly believe that that is what I intended for you to learn?”

Sunset grimaced. “I did what—”

“You did what you wanted to, without regard for others,” Celestia finished for her. “If you had studied the meaning of the first Hearth’s Warming, and not just its events, you would have learned something rather different. You would have learned, just as Smart Cookie, Private Pansy, and Clover the Clever did, that true power doesn’t come from making demands or riding roughshod over anypony who is in your way. True power comes from a kinder, more beautiful place.” Turning face her student, she said. “Come here, Sunset, and look out over Canterlot.”

Cringing, Sunset trotted up to the window, and pushed aside the curtains. Then, she gasped. “It can’t… it’s…

“Snowing.”

Outside, teams of pegasi pushed cloud after cloud into place, forming a wispy grey ceiling over the city. As they were moved into place, others began coaxing snow out of them—only a few flurries, but more all the time. Already, the spires of Canterlot were dusted with white.

“It won’t be much, just a half-inch or so. Still, it seems we’ll have a white Hearth’s Warming after all,” Celestia observed.

Sunset gaped. “Did you do this?” When Celestia nodded, she broke out into a happy grin. “You did it. You ordered all those—”

“I asked them, Sunset,” Celestia gently interrupted. She gestured to the window. “Every pony out there is a volunteer, working together to bring a bit of snow to Canterlot. Not just for you, but for all the ponies who dream of a white Hearth’s Warming.” Celestia wrapped her wing around Sunset. “This is the lesson I want you to learn: that when ponies work together in friendship and harmony, there is nothing they cannot do.”

Sunset snuggled against the princess, never taking her eyes off the window. “So… if I act nice, ponies will do what I want without me having to order them around?”

Celestia opened her mouth, then closed it again. After a long moment, she smiled. “I suppose that’s close enough for now.” She gazed out the window with Sunset. “You still have much to learn, my dear student, but I have no doubt that you will go on to great things one day.” Together, the two of them watched the snowfall.

It was, by all accounts, a beautiful night. The moon glowed silver behind a thin sheen of clouds, the snow was clean and white upon the rooftops, and the temperature was just brisk enough for a pony to feel properly grateful to be sitting inside by a roaring fire, without being so cold that she’d actually feel concerned about the prospect of having to make a trip to the shed to get more wood. It was the sort of night about which no reasonable pony could possibly complain.

“Happy Hearth’s Warming, my dear student,” murmured Princess Celestia, as she wrapped a blanket around Sunset Shimmer, who was curled up by the fire.

Sunset didn’t reply. She was already fast asleep.

Next Chapter: At Least There Was Good Coffee (for Chris) Estimated time remaining: 3 Hours, 2 Minutes