“One black coffee, five shots of espresso.” The mare at the register nodded quickly, her eyes comically wide. Twilight managed a weary, though belated smile, thanking the goddesses above that the mare was too busy ogling to comment on her caffeine life choices. “Please,” she tacked on, wincing at her lack of manners. Not that it mattered anyway; every pony in the cafe looked at her like she had hung the stars themselves. A single glance sent them all blustering and blushing. Surely it hadn’t been like this when Celestia was the main ruler?

Twilight counted out her coins on the counter, met with the frantic head-shaking of the cashier. Figures. She dropped them into the tip jar instead. Then again, perhaps it was because she wasn’t quite as social anymore, and tended to stay in her castle unless duty called. Mysterious, maybe. She was only there to grab a drink before her next meeting with the Delamare committee, anyway. She stifled a yawn with her hoof, levitating the coffee away as the mare came back. “Thank you,” she said, as politely as she could though her exhaustion. The mare opened her mouth, most likely to stutter out a pleasantry, but Twilight was already turning away.

She took a large gulp from her cup. The liquid was scalding hot and bitter, but she relished the burn. Pulling all-nighters had never been fun, especially when angry merponies were involved. She needed all the energy she could get today.

She strolled gracefully out the door towards the patio (and why no, she did not trip over the the cobblestones, thank you very much). A gentle gust of wind ruffled the feathers of her too-stiff wings, and she let out a sigh. The one good thing about this morning was the weather; perfectly clear skies with a hazy sun, the temperature just cool enough to hint the incoming autumn. The town she was in was perfectly lovely, too, a bit quaint but still warm and welcoming. It reminded her her awfully of her hometown. (Oh, and the air always seemed to smell like chocolate-chip cookies, so that was a plus.)

Twilight scanned the the seating area—blissfully empty save for a single, navy-coated unicorn mare in the corner. Something about her startled Twilight, and she found herself staring. The mare’s eyebrows rose high in surprise, but her expression was quickly schooled into thoughtfulness. Her gaze made eye contact and oh, something about those eyes—a piercing, intelligent blue; blue like diamonds—struck Twilight to her core. What was it? Something haunting and terribly familiar...

“Hello? Your Highness?” Twilight snapped back to reality at the voice. She realized she had been staring for an unnervingly long time, and cleared her throat, flicking her ears at the formality of “Your Highness”. No one—not even the royal guards—really called her that.

“Oh, yes, sorry,” Twilight blurted. “I didn’t mean to stare...I guess I just spaced out, y’know?”

The mare brushed her hair, a pale pink, from her face, taking a little sip of her drink. Twilight wasn’t sure, but it looked like she was smiling over the mug. “Yes, I know, darling,” she said, and that was when the rest of Twilight’s world comes crumbling down around her.

“Darling?” Twilight repeated back, and the mare blinked up at her.

“Yes?” Twilight swore she fluttered her eyelashes. Oh Goddess, she was just like...

“Can I sit here for a moment?” Twilight asked, though she plopped down before the mare has the chance to nod. The other pony put down her drink, and concern crept over her features.

“Are you okay?” the mare asked, and it was ridiculous, but something about the way she spoke reminded Twilight of—Oh, it was stupid! Twilight chewed on her lip, tucking her wings around her. (They were still too big for the chair, and spilled over the back.) She was being completely irrational, she knew that. But when Twilight thought of standing up and apologizing, of teleporting away to the safety of her castle... she couldn’t. Her heart—her stupid, stupid, aching heart— wouldn’t let her leave the company of this strangely familar stranger.

Twilight took a deep breath, levitating her coffee mug on the table. It sloshed over onto the white tablecloth, but she stubbornly ignored it. “This is going to sound completely crazy,” she started, staring down at her coffee, a small, bewildered Twilight face reflecting back up, “but I feel like I know you?”

The mare’s eyes widened. Twilight rushed right ahead in a panic, “Not like know you know you, you know? Of course, that’d be weird, I don’t really know you, ‘cause we’ve never met before. But—“

“No, no, it’s alright,” the mare interrupted, and it looked like her expresssion was fighting between worry and amusement. Twilight promptly shut her mouth, her wings quivering. This was the part where she accepted a way out of rambling and potentially further embarrassing herself, where she thanked the other party’s gracious attempts at a normal conversation and took a nice, deep breath. Instead what came out was, “Can I see your cutie mark real quick?” Great.

The mare seemed to stiffen, but she didn’t look away. In fact, her gaze hardened. “What?”

Oh, Celestia above, Twilight was bad at this. “Not—not in a weird way!” she protested weakly. “It’s just because I want to know what it looks like, because...” she trailed off, biting her lip. What could she even say?

The mare tilted her head ever so slightly to the side, studying Twilight. “I suppose,” she started soft, a smile forming, “for a Princess.”

Twilight spluttered and felt her ears burn hot. “Not because I’m a princess,” she said, but the mare was already standing up from her chair. As soon as Twilight saw, she knew she couldn’t write it off as the delirious thoughts of a sleep-deprived pony anymore. It was in the way the mare stood before her, effortlessly confident and elegant. It was her eyes shining bright with joy and kindness, her lips curved ever so coyly. And it was her cutie mark of three perfect gems upon her dark flank. Twilight blinked. But no—they were pink, not blue; sapphires instead of diamonds. And there was no light of recognition in her eyes.

“Oh,” she managed weakly, and her heart gave a sudden, hard thud. “It is you.”

The mare sat down quickly. “I beg your pardon?” she said, squinting over at Twilight. Her nose twitched. “As I said—I’m terribly sorry—but I’m afraid I’ve never had the chance to meet the Princess before.”

Twilight smiled. Or at least, she tried. She couldn’t tell what sort of expression her face was making at this point, because her mind was floundering. “No, I guess you haven’t.”

See, here was the thing. Twilight was a very logical pony. She knew this down to her very core, as her friends had told her time and time again. Sometimes too logical. But this idea brewing in her mind was neither logical nor sound. And yet, despite her many textbooks shaking in rage at the thought, the idea stayed. And she couldn’t get it out.

“Do...” Twilight started. Stopped. Licked her lips. She’d thought about this topic plenty. She’d had many long, empty years to do so.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?”

The mare blinked. She then leaned forward, catching her chin on her hoof. “I usually prefer to give my name to a stranger before delving into such theoretical debates,” she said, smiling ever so slightly.

Twilight swallowed hard, cursing internally. “Oh, of course—“

“But we’re not really strangers now are we?” The mare continued.

Twilight sighed heavily. Get yourself together. She glanced over at the deserted patio, relishing the sweet breeze. What would this conversation have been like just 50 years ago? “No... I guess we’re not.”

“Well,” the other began, voice polite and crisp, “my name is Sapphire.” She extended her dark hoof over the table. Twilight hesitated, heart pounding against her rib cage with a bruising force. How could she sound that way, like it was a simple, everyday exchange between acquaintances? Like the very concept itself wasn’t ground-breaking and earth-shattering?

Twilight took the offered hoof with her own trembling one. “Twilight. Just Twilight.”

Sapphire (NOT Rarity) nodded. “Right, Just Twilight. Now, I am ready.” She took a delicate sip of her drink (which Twilight assumed was chamomile tea, for no particular reason), though Twilight’s own quivery stomach couldn’t fathom the idea of drinking. She paused for a moment and swirled the liquid in her cup with a strange dedication, before clearing her throat.
“So, uh, yes,” she hummed, finally looking up to make intense eye contact. “Reincarnation, you say? I must admit I’ve never put much thought into the idea. I’m not even entirely sure if I believe in a goddess or god. But...” here Sapphire clicked her tongue and tapped her forehead, right where horn met skin. Her magic fizzled. “There are far more fantastical things around here, no?” (And Twilight was suddenly whisked to a time long ago, when she had denounced the existence of a Pinkie Sense, as if she was not the literal walking embodiment of magic herself. Everything seemed so negligible in comparison to now. Why in Equestria had they ever fought?)

“But what about you, Twilight? What do you believe in?”

Twilight blew out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. “I want to believe in reincarnation. I really do. It doesn’t make the most logical sense. And I never did think about it until...” She swallowed hard, praying up above to anyone listening (was there anyone?) “Until I met you.”

Sapphire’s dark skin did nothing to hide the pink that swept over her cheeks. “That is... quite a thing to say, darling,” she responded, clearly flustered. (Oh Celestia). She hid the bridge of her nose behind her hoof, laughing lowly. “Though I’m sure a Princess has met a great deal of ponies in her life. Surely you wouldn’t remember someone like me?”

Twilight tilted her head up to the sky to stop the rush of tears from spilling out. God. “Trust me, I would. You were somepony very special to me.”

Sapphire’s mirth faded to something more open. Softer. Her hoof came to rest atop Twilight’s. “Who was I, Twilight?”

Twilight cracked a smile, the first in what felt like hours. She rubbed at her eyes and sighed. Who was she to describe such a pony? “Your name was Rarity Belle,” she started simply, and was brought almost to laughter by the expression on Sapphire’s face. Her jaw dropped, eyes wide and unbelieving.

“You think—Rarity Belle? The element of generosity? Why, she’s my absolute idol!” Sapphire gushed, before wincing slightly. “Not that you weren’t my idol, Twilight, you all were! Goodness, I used to read old bedtime stories about them when I was a filly. Rarity and Applejack and Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash and...” She paused, biting over a smile. “And Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight snorted. “Yeah, Twilight Sparkle; Celestia’s number one unicorn protégée and world-renowned nerd. I remember her.” (And when she put it like that, it really did feel like a seperate pony.)

Sapphire’s grin faded. “And you think that I’m... her?” (There was an unspoken ‘didn’t you know she passed away over half a century ago?’) Twilight would have expected ridicule from anyone less than Rarity.

“I think that maybe, a few times in a long while, there’s a pony that’s special,” Twilight murmured. “So special, in fact, that the short life they are given can’t suffice. Whatever being out there decides that they get another chance. Another chance to be great, and make friends, and maybe save the world once or twice.” She took a shuddering breath. “And it’s okay if you don’t believe me about any of this. I wouldn’t either.”

Sapphire went to speak, but nothing came out. Her beautiful eyes seemed to glow in the morning light.

“But there’s just this feeling in my chest—some sort of connection—that I felt as soon as I saw you,” Twilight said. “You’re exactly the same as I remember. And I know that’s completely crazy, but it’s true.” (“And”, she wanted to say, “look at your cutie mark. Look at your eyes, and your walk, and your laugh. Just look at you.”) She shut her mouth tightly, afraid any more words would slip out. What did she want from Sapphire anyway? What could ever be done?

There was a terrible, torturous moment of only silence between them, and Twilight never hated silence so much.

“No,” Sapphire said, voice shattering the tension. “I believe you.” And Twilight could have cried with relief. “If I’m being honest, there is something terribly familar about you that I just cannot figure out.” She squeezed Twilight’s hoof as she studied her face. “And of course, who am I to deny a Princess?”

Twilight flashed though 10 different emotions as Sapphire batted her eyelashes at her, lips twitching. “Of course.”

Sapphire stood up abruptly from her chair. ”Permission to hug a Princess?”

Twilight laughed, already throwing herself forward into Sapphire’s arms. She was just as soft as she remembered, just as warm and just as comforting. She smelled like cinnamon and roses, a particular blend of smells that she had never forgotten.

“Twilight,” Sapphire whispered, startling her from thoughts of treehouse libraries and slumber parties. “I will not rest until we find the others.”

Twilight jerked back in surprise. She hadn’t even had time to consider... “Do you think it’s possible?”

Sapphire winked. “At this point, anything is possible, darling.” She stood back, shaking out her long mane. “Now, perhaps you’d like to join me for tea at my place? I think between the two of us, we’ll come up with some spectacular ideas.”

Twilight smiled, a warm and wonderful feeling filling her chest that she hadn’t felt in a while. “I’d love to.”

And she followed Rarity home.

This was a mess, but thanks for reading! (If you can’t tell, my writing gets progressively worse as it gets closer to the end of the story and closer to 1 am)