The Broken Bond

by TheApexSovereign

IV.XI - Half-Baked Sympathies

“Ugh! It’s so humid out here. My own sweat feels drenched!” Rainbow complained. “I’d so whip up a hurricane or something if there were any clouds nearby.”

Heat manifested as a blob splayed across her back, swallowing her in its cloying stickiness. Cicadas groaned back and forth across town, drilling into Rainbow’s head alongside a choir of her lazy wingbeats and Starlight’s clops. A constant stream of mutterings from passing ponies stopped this picture short of being totally mind-numbing.

Because Starlight was being weirdly bad company. Where were the jokes? The chats? Heck, wouldn’t Starlight brag or explain or do anything after leaving the hospital with nary a bandage to be seen? That alone was one of the top five hardcore things she’d ever done.

But when Rainbow voiced as much, Starlight said something so lame she couldn’t remember it off the top of her head. As if there was something more important in mind than hanging with the most awesome pony in Equestria!

Rainbow inhaled, and inhaled, and inhaled. She couldn’t just outright ask what her deal was. But going about as fast as Tank without his propeller gizmo made needlessly more painful.

She banked right, shadowing her permanently grounded friend—whose audible breathing proved her love of this muggy afternoon. “C’mon, Starlight, this sucks. Let’s cut the awkward silence and fly to the castle already!”

A bitter scoff. “You know I don’t have a horn, right?”

No duh! I’m just trying to do something nice for you, dummy! The thought very nearly did a swan dive off the tip of her tongue, but Rainbow bandaged her wounded pride, beaten as it was by the hooves of that jerk, Trixie, and her relentless smearing of Dash’s loyalty to her other friends.

Bullheaded it was, but—seriously—she’d prefer a tail-yank from AJ over being called stupid any day of the week.

Not that Trixie outright said it, the spineless wimp. She was probably afraid she’d be on the receiving end of another drop-and-catch flying session with Yours Truly. Cruel, yeah, but Rainbow made sure Miss Humble and Penitent never forgot that whole, “There’s still one thing I’m better at than you, Wonder-Brainless,” fiasco.

It didn’t actually matter to Rainbow or anything. Trixie was at fault for assuming booksmarts meant jack to the ‘bolts. Or to her parents, or her friends, or Scootaloo or anypony.

Trixie actually thought she was clever! Seriously, funniest part about her act back in the waiting room. As if Rainbow couldn’t read between the lines, feel the conceit powering her every insult. As if Rainbow “Dropout” Dash, whose brain was as good as a pile of rocks, didn’t understand the mind of a fellow showpony, speak their language.

She understood exactly what it was like to be afraid, and it was empathy which stopped Dash from introducing Trixie to her favorite pair of horseshoes. Her act was prime, better rehearsed than Rainbow’s, which was nothing to be proud of. More depressing, really, being a pony with a lot more to hide.

Now Starlight, on the other hoof…

“You know I don’t have a horn, right?” she’d said, and translated into the slang of overcompensating egoists (as Trixie called her in the aforementioned drop-and-catch affair), “It’s totally fine I lost my reason to live, I hardly care! No, the fact that I’d assumed Rainbow had forgotten doesn’t mean that I’m at least sensitive about it. Not even a little!”

“I-I’m sorry.” Rainbow’s heart actually skipped a beat. She looked below, but Starlight’s muzzle was pointed to the ground. “You’re just tryna do something nice. Yeah, Rainbow. Please, let’s just fly to the castle, I…” she said, her ramblings tapering off. “I know this is slow, and bad, and boring for you. And, if I’m being honest, I hate having to walk everywhere. So, let’s go.”

That had to have been the first truth she’d said since entering the lobby. At least, Rainbow hoped it had been so brief. There was nothing to be gained from lying to the doctors. If Rainbow knew of “Patient Confidentiality,” then an egghead like her surely did.

Trixie had better be right about lying to them ourselves, though. There was some logic in letting Starlight have control over her situation, but something about that also felt really… dangerous. Rainbow didn’t know. She really didn’t—-she just had to trust in Trixie’s position as Starlight’s best friend.

“Alright, yeah,” she sighed in agreement, as if she’d been considering Starlight’s words. “Walking’s pretty lame.”

“Mm. I hate it so much.”

Rainbow was going to casually ignore the seething passion coming out of Starlight. “Alright, I’m gonna pick you up now.” Within moments, both ponies were flying toward a dark, jagged shape looming over Ponyville.

“Just don’t drop me, okay?” Starlight said once they were passing the suburbs.

Rainbow scoffed at the thought of that even being a danger. “I’d catch you.”

“I know. I still wouldn’t like to be dropped.” Starlight watched the thatched roofs passing beneath them, the streets she’d definitely trotted the other night instead of coming to dinner, to Twilight, and her friends.

Why? What were you tryna hide from? It’s just us. Rainbow shook her head. “Fair enough.” The fact that Starlight hadn’t avoided spending time with Rainbow was proof that it was nothing about them specifically. Though, a lot of evidence pointed to the contrary.

“You... got a hold on me, right?”

“Would you relax, sister?”

“Just humor me, Rainbow. Please?”

“Fine, I gotcha like a hawk clutching its egg!” she said, reaffirming her four-legged grasp around Starlight’s barrel. It was tight. Secure. ‘I got you,’ it told passengers, ‘I promise, until you’re safe, I’m not letting go.’ That’s the mentality Wonderbolts Rescue Ops training drilled into her brain—not that Rainbow ever needed it.

“So I’m your baby, now?” Starlight muttered.

She sure was acting like one, a thought that hit like a swift gut-buck. Rainbow’s brain imagined Rarity scolding her, ‘Be sensitive, Dashie!’

Starlight needed more than that, though. She needed more than Rainbow Dash. She needed somepony to talk to.

Someone… better… than Rainbow Dash. Better with this stuff, at least.

But if there’s one thing Rainbow learned during Wonderbolts training, it’s that it wasn’t about being the best suited for a job, but being the one to do it when no one else was around.

She’d really rather take a foal stuck in a crawl space than this.

But Rainbow would sooner relinquish her Element in a Daring Do-esque sacrifice than leave Starlight alone with whatever bad thoughts were crawling through her brain.

“Listen, I know how you feel about all this.” Her wings beat a little faster, the houses below slipping by rather crawling. Starlight was silent. Obviously. Understandably. This was really kinda random. Rainbow just let her mouth run, uncaring of the bogeymare always riding her back, checking to make sure everything that left her lips was decidedly “cool enough.”

“I mean, I don’t know what it’s like to lose something like… that. Not permanently. But I’ve been in your ‘shoes before… Broken wing,” she finished for her. “Couldn’t fly for a week, and on the first day I thought I’d die from boredom before it healed.”

“You knew it was coming back, though,” said Starlight, weakly. “It’s not the same.”

“Maybe. But that was after the doctor told me it’d heal.” Rainbow let that sink in as the ever-growing silhouette of Twilight’s place began to fill with lilac, gold, folds and engravings. “I couldn’t even think about how much it hurt. That’s how scared I was, Starlight.” But too scared to ever specify those emotions, the horrible, life-flashing-before-your-eyes terror that even here and now she couldn’t voice. “Do you get it?” She hoped it didn’t sound as lame as it felt to say.

“Yeah, you thought you’d never fly again. I don’t blame you. That had to be the scariest time of your life.”

“Y-yeah! Like you wouldn’t believe!” Rainbow squeaked, relieved not to hear mockery or a jab about her oft-proclaimed fearlessness. “And I don’t blame you either, Starlight. F-for anything! Any of it that you do, or say, it’s… a lot. Something like this, it’d do a lot to a pony.”

Rainbow powered on. “Look,” she sighed, thankful of the breeze against her face, “this sucks, Starlight. The others probably won’t be as frank, and you know Twilight’ll jump back and forth between pretending everything’s fine, to how nothing ever is or will be again.” Starlight sighed, likely knowing better than Dash ever would. “And it can’t be easy, the way they’re treating you. Especially with things in the pits already. Treating you like a glass window ready to break has gotta be the cherry on top.”

“You must be reading my mind.” She laughed halfheartedly. “You’re right, Dash. This does suck. I’m still dealing with it, but I wanna deal with it at my pace, not theirs! But… but what’s harder,” she said softly, “what I can’t stand the most, if I’m being honest… is everypony... insisting themselves upon me.”

Just caring about you is a problem? I mean, I get that it can get annoying, but… that’s worse than losing your magic? It made absolutely no sense, but Rainbow had enough herself not to fight this battle. “Tough. We care about you, and we’re worried.” That much made sense, at least. And if it did to Rainbow Dash, then it would to Starlight.

“You don’t need to be, though! You’ve all got—-!” she choked, shaking her head. “N-nevermind. Nevermind. It’s dumb. Just forget I said anything. I’m grateful at the end of the day, really. It could be so much worse, after all.”

But that’s not the point, Glim. Of any of this! We wanna make you happy again, but you won’t let us even try. The urge to say that nearly burned a hole in Dash’s stomach, but just thinking of the laughter that would ensue made her hot with embarrassment. No way would Starlight take that sap-coated cheese seriously. This was more Twilight’s world.

“Yeah,” said Rainbow, “it could be.”

Aside from a grunt and a sigh, her passenger did nothing more.

Come on, Dash. You could do better than this! Forget about yourself for once, and say what your friend needs to hear right now!

Ahead, Twilight’s castle loomed ever larger, the sun crowning Canterlot’s silhouette from its mountainous seat further behind. “Starlight, you know you can talk to me, right? I’d tell you what you need to hear, what you wanna hear. No fluff, no manure, none o’ that mess.” Silence, but the slight rocking of her cargo spoke enough. “I’m not that best at this sort of thing, but I know what you’re going through. I mean, I don’t!” she amended quickly. “Not completely. But I understand what you’re doing here… y’know? I… I get… that you’re putting on a front. I get that you don’t want ponies thinking less of you, or—”

“I couldn’t care less about what ponies think of me, Rainbow.”

Yeah. And that cult village was just a social experiment, of course. And vanishing in a literal puff of smoke from the Sunset Festival? Rainbow thrashed the snark out of mind. This’s no time to be brash! C’mon! Get your head outta your butt, Rainbow. “Okay, fine, but you didn’t really deny what I’m saying, so I’m pretty much right.”

Her silence meant she was still on the right track. Rainbow felt like Daring Do psychoanalyzing Ahuizotl in The Fate of Fortune right now, she couldn’t help it. “Well, whatever your game, I’m not here to pry about that. I just want you to know that me, Twilight, AJ, everypony’s all here for you. It’s not that we think you need it,” she lied, “but we’re just worried is all. You’re strong, though. We all know that. I may be the only one who’s actually putting that opinion into practice, but… you got my vote, Starlight. ‘Kay? If there’s one pony who can bounce back from somethin’ like this, it’s definitely you. Just, you know, just let us cushion your falls, r’whatever, okay?”

Rainbow cringed, memories of Tank’s first winter flooding back like a bad weekend in Las Pegasus. “The fact that you’re not curled up in your room, not talking to anypony, means you’re tougher than any pony I’d ever met, and… and maybe that includes me, okay? So,” Rainbow sighed heavily, “so tough it out, because you’re stronger than me. If not, then you’ll make me look bad!”

Diving face-first into boiling water sounded like the best way to cool off right about now.

“Y-you’re too kind. Sure, I’ll try my best.” A pause. “Th-thanks, Rainbow! Seriously. That’s some high praise coming from you.”

Rainbow awaited more, but she began her descent to those huge golden doors without hearing another word. This’s more than praise. She could feel the judgement weighing heavily in her forelegs. It’s the honest truth. It’s my pride and shame parading out in the open, and you just got a front row seat to this once-in-a-lifetime showing of me without either of ‘em.

And Starlight only had, “Wow, thanks,” to say about it.

Rainbow crushed her petty feelings, dropping Starlight before flexing her legs and touching down beside her. So long as she understood—which she did, because she’s Starlight freaking Glimmer—that was fine. They didn’t need to turn it into something… Fluttershy-like.

Starlight struggled at first, lagging a bit as she and Rainbow heaved, pushing open the gilded doors to her home.

---

Despite her Open Door Decree, only Twilight’s closest friends invited themselves in without knocking.

She shot up from her enormous pillow, dropping her letter and quill as a groan rumbled throughout the castle like the purr of a great tomcat. Her ears strained against the ensuring silence, catching one set of hoofbeats plodding n the foyer.

No bouncing. Applejack, or Rarity, then. Could be Fluttershy, too—normally doesn’t fly when she can walk. To her left, the window informed Twilight of the day still going strong. Too early for a status report. All of this together meant…

Her heart seized. Starlight. Oh, Celestia, what happened this time?

With nary a thought, she poofed the half-written letter penned to Sunburst to her important documents’ drawer, just in the off-chance it was actually Starlight herself, horrible a thought as that was. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, she hoped. Wanting to talk to me would be promising progress!

At nearly the same time, in envisioning the letter appearing inside her desk, Twilight pictured herself within the Entrance Hall. Half a heartbeat later, a tingle surging through her, and Twilight appeared before Rainbow Dash. But she wasn’t alone.

“S-Starlight!” Her friend’s mane looked good. Like, normal! “Uh, ho-ho-how are you? Doing? How’re you doing?” Come to think of it, Pinkie was informed by Maud that they were together while Twilight was off being a spastic fool, playing with dark magic. They must have had a spa trip. “I’m sorry, by the way. For not being here yesterday. I…” You can’t let her know what happened with Draggle! Not yet, anyway. She’d feel awful, and worse, she’d believe herself responsible. “Celestia needed me. It was so sudden I’d forgotten to leave a note! I hope you were okay.”

Rainbow’s jaw dropped, making her lie painfully obvious, even if nopony knew about the dark magic part.

“Uh, good. I was good! I mean. I still am, in fact.” She cast a glance to Rainbow, whose mouth clamped shut as she looked back to Twilight, unreadable, but it’d be worrying if Starlight didn’t catch her shrugging. “Is everything okay with Celestia?”

Twilight started. “Oh! Great. She’s great! Problem solved! I was just, you know, penning some letters—t-to nopony in particular! Just, y’know, catching up… you know?” Twilight cupped her embarrassment with a hoof. “Ah, sorry,” she said to Starlight’s furrowed brows. “Been a little skitter-scatter-brained this morning.”

“You’re telling me,” Rainbow muttered. She grinned apologetically to Twilight’s pointed stare.

“O-kay,” Starlight drawled, warily eyeing the two of them. “Well, Dash and I were just going to grab a couple kites. So…”

Twilight grinned, and not solely because Starlight was beginning to warm up to the “Elements” circle of friends at last: she envisioned her dear friend’s favorite kite, as well as one Rainbow would enjoy. “I’ll save you the walk!” she shouted over the startup whine of her horn.

“No, Twilight, you don’t have to—-” A pair of baby-blue kites, one box and another diamond-shaped with a rainbow tail, appeared overhead in a magenta glow. Starlight looked to them, then back to Twilight, her plain expression sagging. “Uh, thanks.” She rose her hoof to receive them. Was she planning on carrying them? Letting them settle on her back just to be blown away?

Most importantly, did Twilight do something wrong again? “I offended you. Didn’t I?”

Starlight froze, gaping. “N-no. No, of course not!”

“You made a face, though.”

“I’m not making a face. You’re seeing things.”

“Twilight,” Rainbow cut in, “it’s fine. We should get going while the getting’s good, right, Starlight?” She ascended, grabbing the kites from Twilight’s magical glow.

“Yes. Please.” Starlight whirled back around, not even moving to hug Twilight goodbye, or even wave farewell or anything.

It’s like everything she did was offensive in some way. “Starlight, what’s wrong?”

She stomped back around, groaning. “Sweet Celestia, nothing! Get off my back!”

“Well, it sure sounds like something,” Twilight countered, concerned. “Does it have anything to do with Fizzlepop?” Starlight froze, paling, confirming this suspicion. “Listen, it’s not my business to play mailpony between the two of you. That’s not what I’m doing.” Starlight snapped over to Rainbow helplessly once again, who shrugged back. A selfish part of Twilight was relieved she hadn’t told anypony about it, rather than solely avoiding her. It was a better sign than she’d feared, at the very least.

Twilight elaborated, “Fizzlepop and I spoke this morning.”

Starlight stiffened slightly. “Ah, heh, that so?”

At least she was listening instead of leaping to conclusions, denying and then excusing. It was terrible, feeling so relieved at this turn. So terrible Twilight knew she’d say something to mess it up again, but she barrelled forth for her friend’s sake. “She’d said something that offended you earlier, nothing more, though. Oh, Starlight, please don’t look so afraid. This is all coming from a place of concern.”

“I-I’m not—”

“I won’t pry, promise. Just as I hadn’t with her. Whatever this is, however much I may want it resolved, it’s between the two of you. I have to respect that.” Starlight went from looking uneasy, to horrified, until finally she looked guilty. It might have been wishful thinking, but Twilight felt part of that directed toward her. “I’ll just give the same advice I’d offered Fizzlepop: talk to her. Communicate whatever was bothering the two of you. Make one another understand.”

Starlight’s eyes softened. She drew them shut, sighing. “Thanks, Twilight. But I think we understand one another plenty.” She smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

The Princess of Friendship was prepared to backpedal, to press the issue because it was so clear that Starlight was hurting over this, before Rainbow uttered a low, warning, “Twilight.” They locked eyes. “Don’t, ‘kay? That biz’s scorched earth.”

“R-really?” Back to Starlight, she was found with her eyes and ears pointed to the maroon carpet. “Is it really so unsalvageable?” Twilight challenged gently. Starlight crumpled, swallowing any response. “Starlight?”

It broke her heart to see a single nod.

“Egghead.” Rainbow’s eyes quietly pleaded her to step back, a steeliness which hardened it, spoke not of a warning, but a declaration to protect the pony beside her. “Can we go kite-flying now? All this yacking’s makin’ my wings fall asleep.”

In other words, You’re making it worse, genius. Baby steps, remember? You’ve tasked us with making her feel comfortable in the first place. That’s the exact opposite of what you’re doing right now.

“Right, right, sorry.”

“Are… you okay, Twilight?” Starlight asked.

“Yes!” Twilight rattled her selfishness out of her head. “I mean, yeah, I am. Just remember what I said, okay? It took a while for this to be reinforced, but I’ve learned that talking is the best medicine for a fractured friendship.”

Starlight recoiled slightly as Rainbow waved dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. And lying leads to crying, as Doctor Applejack prescribes. Now can we get a move on? We’re burning daylight and I wanna try this baby out!” Starlight’s gaze lowered, flitting to and fro across the carpet, her lips moving soundlessly. “Yo, Starlight.”

Her head bobbed rapidly. “Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Just cool your jets. I’m not as fast as you anymore.”

Twilight balked, but Rainbow, blanching, though out of Starlight’s line of sight, forced a sputter of laughter. “As if you were in the first place.”

All good sense was forgotten in that instant as Twilight inhaled, ready to admonish her brash friend.

“Jerk,” snorted Starlight, turning to lead them back out to the distant village of Ponyville.

Collecting herself, Twilight wished them well before telepathically slamming her front doors shut. The boom started her out of her thoughts, where Starlight’s sad attempt to drag a door shut with her could be fully comprehended. “Sorry!” Twilight shouted, doubting they could hear beyond the twelve-inch-thick, gold-hewn threshold. “If that hurt you,” she added softly.

Twilight knocked herself on the head, chanting, “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” with every strike.

At least Rainbow kept a cool head back there. Ironic, but everypony excelled in different situations. Twilight wouldn’t ever forget that lesson, not after seeing Fluttershy take on a dragon all those years ago.

Meanwhile, she herself could’ve been better. Said better. Anything. Maybe all of it. Or perhaps she, the Princess of Friendship who failed at friendship at every turn, was doing the best she could in these exact circumstances.

Twilight wiped her eyes before returning to work.

After finishing her letter to Sunburst, after poofing it to Flurry Heart’s room in the Empire, those scarred friends of hers weighed heavier than ever on Twilight’s mind. This behavior was normal for them, and was easy to rationalize given their pasts. But what was truly scary, extreme as that sounded, was if both ponies had said something they both regarded as unforgiveable to one another.

Being locked in a room together might be the only way for a breakthrough to come about.

Starlight was blunt but polite, sincere, and sensitive to the plights of others (when she wasn’t caught in her own head, of course). And Fizzlepop Berrytwist was a quiet mare, sharp of mind albeit muddied with the shame she bore every day.

When she’d heard this pony actually yelling at herself over what’d happened, whatever happened, it served as further confirmation these two were perfect for one another. They cared a great deal, “messed up,” as they put it, equally as much, and fell just as hard.

But both sprung back to their hooves after every fall. It would be a tragedy if such a potentially wonderful friendship died out because they’ve already written themselves off.

The boom of some deep, monstrous drum startled Twilight from her thoughts, the image of Fizzlepop and Starlight crying and hugging one another giving way to her cold, dark, ash-blasted fireplace as the noise sounded again.

Knocking… Somepony from town? Normally that would be a good thing, but this morning has been filled with nearly everything but, Twilight remembered as she willed herself back to the Entrance Hall. As she telekinetically pulled the doors open, her brain went and started speaking aloud.

“If this is about my sickness or Starlight’s injury, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to give you the same answer I’ve given everypony else—”

“I’m aware... Princess Twilight,” gasped a white earth pony as she pushed herself in, the rest of her pink hair bun falling around her neck. “That’s not… why I’m here.”

It took a full second for Twilight’s brain to fully take in the sweat-matted, panting disposition of Nurse Redheart—-Nurse, not simply Redheart, for she was still in her distinct white cap marked with a red cross.

Twilight’s heart beat once. There was only one possible explanation for this picture.

“Princess Twilight?” Redheart stepped closer.

“It’s Starlight,” she heard herself asking faintly, “isn’t it?”

---

Her forehead tingled as an army of ants stirred beneath her skin, around the base of her horn, her eyebrows, the bridge of her nose—-a metaphor somewhat less disturbing than the reality.

My very bone charred black…

Silver lining: it’d look really cool as a macabre sort of stage prop. Or better yet, a valuable means of researching the dangers a hornless unicorn might pose to herself. Starlight ought to donate her body to science for when she passes away—-at least she’d be of objective use to somepony without threat of harming them as she had in life.

“Starlight, what’s up?”

Her brain sprung to action, churning out a response like one of those prize ball machines. “Nothing much.” Lame, meaningless, cheap, would likely be forgotten. Clockwork. A prize ball machine. That’s all she was good at anymore, that and running away.

“I think I’m starting to get the hang of this! Heh, kite flying’s pretty awesome, I gotta say.”

“It is.” In truth, Starlight wasn’t having fun. In any sense of the word.

She’d attempted to think like an earth pony, copying Maud’s way of flying a kite: to step on the string and watch it go. It wasn’t the same as before, but there was still this sense of significance to watching something soar so high while being tethered to her will.

Twice, it slipped out from underhoof when she would loosen her hold, trying to raise it higher. Like Hydia herself was gleefully messing with her. The drag would come out of nowhere and rip it free, and she would chase after her kite, picturing an invisible claw grasping its string to pitifully zero avail. Whatever numbing spell Doctor Stable cast was a good one, and would surely last twenty-four hours if not the next seven days.

Rainbow caught it in the blink of an eye, of course, nearly losing hers (as in Starlight’s) in both incidents. She joked about tying it to Starlight’s foreleg, but jokes became criticisms once they started pulling from reality. It’s clear Rainbow was getting tired of Starlight’s incompetence, first with her lack of flight and now something so skilless as flying kites.

But Dash was just bearing it for Starlight. She could see it now from the corner of her eye, that smirk plastered to her face as if this was the coolest thing she’d ever done.

It wasn’t. And without a horn, Starlight couldn’t demonstrate her love for this irreverent activity.

Without a horn she couldn’t properly pull and loose the string, anchored in her subconscious grip as all focus, every ounce of enjoyment, stemmed from the battle with the wind. It was like an elegant dance, the only one Starlight would ever know if those pitiful dancing classes back in Hollow Shades were any indication.

Without her horn, she couldn’t run with it either: skating across the meadow with the kite trailing after her, powering against the drag of her and Equestria’s—or rather, the Flutter Valley witches’—-own making. She’d tried, of course, because Starlight was the type who needed a third degree burn before knowing better than to play with fire.

The string cut like floss through her teeth, and the enjoyment she got from running with her kite besides, once glowing warm like hot coals in her belly, was effectively doused by Rainbow’s stare. She must have looked like a complete idiot, acting like this was doable. There was a reason Maud never dashed alongside Starlight when the urge overcame her, and the answer lied in two simple words: bloody gums.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was tripping because she couldn’t see where she was going, because she was running with a string in her mouth, and the point of flying a kite was to watch it soar, not ogle the ground keeping an eye out for rocks.

And that’s because Starlight didn’t have a horn, who couldn’t make this less painful for Dash and learn to enjoy flying kites without one.

Not in the way she once loved. Not without keeping her foot planted in the dirt, only stepping off when she felt the string slacken and nothing more.

A great yawn startled her. “Didn’t get much sleep last night,” Rainbow remarked.

Just in case Starlight presumed she was bored, of course. Which, obviously, she was, because Starlight knew Rainbow Dash, and knew there was no way she’d be up to doing this with her if she still had a horn. She did once call this “Snoresville,” if memory serves.

“S’ho,” Rainbow began, using her teeth to pull against the lift, “whacha doin’ la’er tonigh’?”

“Oh,” Starlight sighed, “I dunno. Nothing I guess.” Not practising magic. Not kite flying. And definitely not hanging out with Trixie—she had a tour to plan, a life to live. It didn’t revolve around Starlight, of course. She’d put her livelihood off long enough already. It was fine.

It’s fine.

“Probably read,” she continued. It’s about all I can do that doesn’t involve leeching on anypony’s time. “I got this… book. Series. That I’ve been meaning to dig into.” She’d have to pick something from the library when she returned to Twilight’s. Historical Highlights of Hexes (All Five of Them) by Are-Well Stein was a little obsolete now.

“Cool,” said Rainbow, her kite swaying sleepily in the deep blue above. “I still think you should read Daring Do.”

“I still think you should read a dictionary and find out what ‘no’ means.” Starlight shot her a smirk, and Rainbow’s matching smile and narrowed eyes informed she got the message, and was answering with a challenge. “I’m sorry, Dash. I just like my literature to be a bit more… cerebral.”

“That have to do with cereal or something?”

“No, it—” Perhaps finishing would be construed as an insult. Or maybe Starlight was overthinking and giving another half-answer like she had been this entire time. They were finally having a conversation, for Pete’s sake! Maybe it stemmed from a fear of inciting Rainbow’s wrath, of making her mad and losing her. Maybe Starlight was still scared of the bogeypony well into her mid-twenties.

Who. Cares, she decided. It… it doesn’t matter how I feel in the slightest. Sooner or later these ponies will get sick of me, and I’ll be long gone from their lives. They’ll forget about me, and be happier without the extra stress of forcing awkward smalltalk like this.

“It relates to the brain,” she explained. “Something cerebral is something which teases the mind, makes you think.”

An offended gasp. “Daring so makes you think,” said Rainbow.

No, Daring did all the thinking while the reader realizes the answer alongside her, and feels a rush of dopamine as they piece together what she did after the fact. According to some, the later books had puzzles a foal could solve in their sleep.

And besides, puzzles were not what Starlight meant by “cerebral.” But she didn’t want to genuinely offend Rainbow. She was, after all, just doing what Twilight told her to do.

“I’ll take your word on it.” Seeing Rainbow’s satisfactory smirk drove Starlight to add, “Doesn’t mean I’ll read it.”

“Eh, I’ll take the win.”

Good. Thank Celestia Rainbow wasn’t nearly as abrasive and desperate for absolute victory as she apparently was in the old days. Had they gotten into a heated argument about the intellectual merits of an adventure series for young ponies, well, there was a lone tree in the distance that looked highly ramable.

“So,” Rainbow drawled for the umpteenth time, “what’d you and Trixie do yesterday?”

“Why do you care?” Starlight sincerely asked.

“Just curious.”

Of. Course. She was. “We talked,” was the terse, warning answer. “That’s it.” That’s all you need to know.

“Aw, you guys didn’t do anything?”

Now Starlight was the one feeling offended. Karma was a wicked Flutter Valley-dwelling witch sometimes. “Talking is something.”

“Must’ve been a pretty good conversation, then.” She sounded so casual about this, not pressing for details. Could Starlight have been presuming the worst of ponies again? Did Rainbow really wish to hang out with her? Or was she just that good an actress?

“It was,” said Starlight. Perhaps it’s time to do a little investigating of her own. “Surprised she didn’t tell you all about it this morning.” In reality, the opposite would be downright shocking.

But Rainbow Dash also thought Trixie was selfish. For once, Trixie’s off-putting demeanor worked in Starlight’s absolute favor.

“We told ya,” said Rainbow, “I only came because it’s been forever since we’d hung out.”

And whose fault is that? If Starlight were a petty—pettier—pony, she’d raise a stink. Truly, though, Rainbow approaching Starlight would be as unprecedented as Trixie betraying her trust. Sure, she didn’t make Trixie promise not to speak, and thus had zero grounds to feel “betrayed” if that were the case, but…

But Trixie was one of Starlight’s best friends. They could finish each other’s sentences, or sometimes not speak of them at all and still have a conversation. It should’ve been obvious that yesterday’s conversations were meant for their ears only!

Starlight exhaled. Exhaled. Calm. You’re calm. You aren’t mad, you only feel hurt because… because Trixie dumped Rainbow on you, because she has her life to live. Not that she betrayed your trust. You know she’d want to stick close longer if she could…

Right? Or was Trixie just growing tired of her ranting about Twilight? Even that’s a possibility with her.

“Yo, Equestria to Starlight.”

“W’huh?!”

Rainbow laughed at her reaction. “Were you zoning out on me?” She snorted at the ridiculous blushing mare beside her. “I was saying how you—”

“Please, stop.” That was enough. Enough wasted time, enough wasted breath. The two of them had better things they could be doing than trying to fit a square peg named Rainbow into a shattered, once-diamond-shaped hole representing Starlight herself. She appreciated the efforts, but Rainbow’s were pitiful and clearly falling through. Neither of them wanted to be here.

“Please,” she gently amended. Starlight began twirling her foreleg around the string of her kite. “This isn’t working, Dash.”

“What? What’d I do wrong?” she cried, all but confirming this was her attempt, and ostensibly Twilight’s, at trying to draw something out of Starlight. “Quit doing that, would you?”

But Starlight watched as her kite drew closer and closer, folding defiantly toward the sky, avoiding her however it could. “Quit doing what, exactly?”

“Ignoring me! You’ve been doing that the entire time.” Starlight froze and turned rigidly toward Rainbow, whose brows were knitted with concern, lips twisted like she… like she cared. “That’s all you’ve done, that and lying to me. C’mon, Starlight, I told ya we can be honest with each other.”

“We both know that isn’t your forte, Rainbow Dash. ‘Honesty.’ I mean, you really think I believed you guys when Trixie tried selling that little sob story?” Starlight scoffed, more out of her naivety in hoping it was true anyway. “She’s a good showpony. But even she can’t sell me dirt and call it gold, and less so that you’d wanna do something as dumb as kite flying.”

“I thought you loved this stuff!”

‘Loved.’ Not ‘love.’ Rainbow legitimately thought this was a dead end for her, too. It was, but she had no way of knowing that for sure! Starlight threw her favorite kite down and swiftly pinned it with a stomp, snapping the t center with a crack like thunder: a harsh, blunt sound that made Rainbow flinch as if she actually gave a parasprite’s butt, unlike Starlight. It didn’t matter. Today was proof she’d never fly kites again, never cast magic again, fail to hold onto this life she’d given so much to preserve.

“Jeez, Starlight,” Rainbow breathed.

“Not a word,” Starlight told. Begged. For all the good it’s done her, her gut writhed, urging to do one thing right today and play it cool. “I can get this fixed in like one… I mean, under ten minutes. M-maybe less.” Really?! That tree was looking more merciful by the moment. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had a broken kite on my hooves. It’s nothing. I can do it myself.”

Rainbow’s eyes narrowed by the word, as if to say, ‘You don’t actually know how long it’ll take, because you gave up the one thing that made fixing kites easy.’ How hypothetically rude.

“Okay, Starlight. No more games. What’s been up with you?”

Confrontation: the one problem Starlight couldn’t magic away. “What?” she laughed in mock-disbelief. “Nothing! I’m still getting used to these things, that’s it. Breaking in the girls, so to speak.” She gestured with one forehoof at a time. “I’ve never flown kites without magic before, you know. Gotta walk before you can swim, you know that better than anypony.”

“Right.” Rainbow looked from her kite, broken and forgotten, pinned now by its useless frame, to Starlight, her wings, lips, even her eyes at half-mast. “Yeah, I know what that’s like. But I’ve also seen happier ponies fail than you were flying that kite. Come on, let’s piece this thing back together. I can trying showing you my—-”

“Just stop, Rainbow, okay? I already know you’re not enjoying this, you don’t gotta keep pretending.”

“So what if I am? I mean—-!” She slapped herself across the eyes. “Okay. Fine, this isn’t the greatest. But we don’t have to torture ourselves if neither of us are having fun!”

“You’re right, we don’t. In fact, I’d much rather be alone right now.” Better that than annoy Rainbow further.

“Aw, come on! Seriously?” she cried. “What? Are you mad at me or something, Starlight? I’ve been wondering what I said wrong, but you’re not giving me an edge! I really wanted to hang with ya, but you seem like you wanna be anywhere but here. So, come on! Let’s stop pretending nothing’s wrong, and let’s just be real. You like that, I know you do. You’re one of the realest ponies around.”

What a freaking riot. Starlight threw her head back, howling with laughter, unable to stop herself. She just couldn’t. This was too rich: a mare who put her own happiness first while dressing it in the guise of helping others was a “real” pony in the eyes of Rainbow Dash.

“You know,” Starlight sighed, wiping a tear from her eye, “I’ve had a lot of crummy things happen to me this past month. Particularly this week.” She wiped her other eye, grinning stupid all the while. “But if you consider me more ‘real’ than Twilight, heh, then you’re in for a rude awakening, friendo.”

“Starlight—”

“Especially coming from you.”

Rainbow’s face froze, slack for a beat before twisting into a scowl and stomping closer, keeping her own kite pinned with a back hoof. “Say that again. In detail. I’m not as ‘cerebral’ as you are.”

Starlight snorted. A kick in the teeth sounded pretty good right now, actually. Deserved in a way. “Let’s not beat around the bush here, Dash. ‘Kay? Let’s instead be ‘real:’ I’m a chronic liar if there ever was one. But you know what? You’re no better. Today was proof enough,” she said toward Rainbow’s deep, objecting inhale. “You, wanting to stand something as lame as flying a kite? As me?”

Rainbow recoiled as if slapped, the distraught flashing across her face brief, but genuinely. Disgust flooded Starlight’s belly past its bursting point.. “Hey, relax, okay? This isn’t what I meant when I called you—”

“‘Real?’” she powered on. Starlight was still right. Regardless of Dash’s feelings, she was deadly accurate in this assessment. “You were gonna say that, weren’t you?” Starlight smiled like the slimy, hornless freak that she was. “Okay, Rainbow, I’ll play your game now, seeing as you swallowed mine all day.” Though clearly wounded by the accusation, Starlight was astonished to feel no regret calling Dash out. In fact, she felt light. Lighter than she had in days, even last night after talking to Trixie.

“So here it is: I, Starlight Glimmer, being ‘the realest pony you’ve ever known.’” Rainbow turned her head aside, eyeing her warily, angrily. She’d always hated losing, and she was failing big time. “Twilight. Her aim in all this. That’s what I’ve been thinking about. That’s what you wanted to know so badly, wasn’t it? What’s been on my mind?”

Rainbow balked, and Starlight grinned.

Gotcha. “I’ll make it easy for ya,” she said. “What’re you trying to accomplish here?”

---

Starlight had lied. Tempest knew what she did this morning, who she was really yelling at, and had lied anyway. And Starlight was lying. She was lying about her own health, both physical and mental, acting like she was so gosh darn clever all the while. She was brilliant, but she was stupid as can be sometimes. Darn her. Darn her!

She’d lied to the doctors who just wanted to help her! She lied to right to Twilight’s face! She lied to Rainbow about her health, and even to to Trixie apparently.

Starlight had lied to Twilight. She already knew that. Why did it hurt so bad?

She was lying. She could have died this very morning and she could die again and yet she had the nerve to LIE.

It took every ounce of willpower to tear away from Nurse Redheart, to walk to the balcony overlooking Ponyville so she wouldn’t see the Princess of Friendship cry. For if she did, if Twilight failed to hold her public image, failed to do something as simple and easy and stupid and mindless as this, then that was it. All bets were off. She’d wail, and Cadance would hear all the way in the Crystal Empire.

“Thank you for coming.” A slight breeze stirred her mane, as if Equestria itself were her only friend, assuring her of its kindly nature in spite of the twisted beings toting themselves as its embodiment half a world away, somewhere in a lost realm only Starlight knew the location of.

Celestia would find something. She said she would, alongside Luna and even Discord. They’d find them. They’d make the witches fix whatever they’d done to Starlight, somehow…

“Nurse Redheart.” The silence meant she hadn’t even moved. Twilight could still feel eyes on her, glazed with pity and disgust for the clumsy, young, foolish little princess who made mistakes whenever it mattered most. “You may go. Thanks again.” Redheart was Starlight’s age , and she’d accomplished more than Twilight ever would in a century. Twilight wasn’t engaged, either, nor had she gotten her first kiss. She didn’t even know what love was, though she was sure the jaggedness strangling her now was some kind of internal awareness, if nothing else.

“Are you sure you want me to leave you alone, Princess Twilight?”

No. Yes. It’d be best. Twilight didn’t know. She thought she knew some things, but apparently nothing of one of her best friends, or the land she loved so dearly.

Loved, in spite of what it truly was.

“I appreciate you giving me the nullification spell.” The witches earned some of that good will, too, Twilight supposed, for allowing their magic to ease Starlight’s pain instead of making her suffer more. Their gain in this was unfathomable. Another mystery within mysteries, I guess. “This will keep her and… it’ll keep her safe.” As well as anypony else, she nearly said, but even thinking that felt like unneeded slander. Redheart understood.

A pause, probably the nurse nodding, or shaking her head. “It’s no problem, Princess. We have copies in our med-magic health books. Be sure to apply it to Starlight’s horn every twenty-four hours, though if she feels any discomfort, you may apply it an infinite amount of times. Castings don’t stack, however, so keep the time limit in mind.”

“Thank you, Nurse. I mean that.” She was always too kind for words. One day, Twilight vowed, she’d find a way to sufficiently thank her.

And Starlight was going to help with that. “I’m sorry for getting you tangled in our mess,” she said. “We’ve all been out of sorts these past couple days… I’ll have Spike deliver to Ponyville General tomorrow.”

Ahead, her home was still, quiet, the land embracing it green and soft and inviting, equally as unassuming, with history centuries old embedded in every inch. With families even older, richer in their stories, as complicated and sordid as life itself—two facts of life the witches, for all their games, would never change, never make Twilight forget in her dealings with Starlight, regardless of how irresponsible she’d been acting. She wasn’t solely to blame.

After all, Twilight held some of the responsibility for letting it get this bad. “It will be more than enough to cover Starlight’s bill,” she explained. “Along with a little extra, as my way of apology. Expect a letter of such penned by Starlight as well. It doesn’t change what she’d done, I know, but she’s brutally honest to herself when she knows she did wrong.” Redheart might not understand, though, presume it was forced by Twilight. “She’d do it of her own accord, as well. That’s the kind of pony Starlight is.”

“I know,” Redheart stammered quickly. “I know, Princess, I know that the frightened, hurting young lady I saw today was nothing like the mare she normally is.”

For Starlight’s sake, Twilight wasn’t going to correct her on that. Regret poisoned her on the spot. Gosh, I’m such a horrible friend.

“But, honestly,” Redheart continued, her voice closer, “you don’t have to cover Starlight’s bill. I’ll take it out of my paycheck. This is a trying time for you both, and I feel… I feel sort of obligated to thank her in some way for giving up so much to save my friend’s life.”

No! Even if Twilight agreed, even if she explained to Starlight why she wasn’t punished for overlooking her first ever hospital bill in the rush of emotions, that pony would never forgive herself if Redheart “suffered” for her mistakes, as she’d certainly put it.

A slight breeze carried over a powdery aroma of uniform cleanliness. Redheart was a strong-willed mare who wouldn’t take a gentle decline, especially with her convictions on the line. “You’re generous, Nurse Redheart. But I must insist that I will cover it for the sake of Starlight Glimmer’s mental well-being. I hope you understand what I mean when I tell you not to expect that letter for a while.”

A pregnant pause went on for a moment too long, if only because Redheart was fighting the urge to go through with it anyway—even behind Twilight’s back, as she would likely do.

“I… understand. I dislike this, but I understand completely.” Thank Celestia Redheart placed her duties as a healer before her own peace of mind. Starlight and even Twilight would struggle more and possibly make the mistake of lying in her shoes.

Twilight couldn’t chance forgetting how she wasn’t much better than Starlight in this “trying time,” as Redheart so gently put it.

“But don’t expect me not to thank her in some way,” she continued. “Same goes for Ponyville. You can feel it in the air, Princess. Everypony wants a word with Starlight, whether she likes it or not. I heard several conversations pertaining to her on my way over here.”

In spite of everything, her sense of compassion tickled Twilight in a way only the population of Ponyville could in a pony. She was forever grateful for living in this town.

“Even the Riches were talking about her,” Redheart went on. “And I don’t think those three have ever given much thought to those who aren’t business partners.”

Twilight turned. Before her stood Redheart, powder-pink mane twisted in a braided ponytail slung across her shoulder, cap held against her chest as it had been since breaking the news—-

Vision blurring, she whipped back around to hide it, but not before gracing the kindly nurse, who came here as soon as she got out of work, with a grateful smile. “If I didn’t know better,” Twilight said fondly, “I’d say this town was planning some kind of party.”

“Oh, you know me, Princess. That is to say, I wouldn’t,” Redheart laughed, bashful of her introversion. “I’m not one to attend Ponyville parties. But if that’s the case, well, there’s a first—or in this case third—time for everything.”

That’s right. One of Ponyville’s most beloved doctors had only ever attended her own ‘Welcome to Ponyville’ party (by Pinkie’s will of course) and her twentieth birthday five years ago, again by Pinkie bringing it to her. Twilight was able to attend despite having only lived in Ponyville for a month, and known Nurse Redheart for a sliver of that time.

“In a way, it’d still be a first for you,” said Twilight, practically hearing Redheart’s head tilt in confusion. “It’ll be the first Ponyville party you’ve attended willingly.”

“I suppose that’s true!” Redheart giggled. She would have gone to Twilight’s near-death and un-death celebrations, but unfortunately the hospitals of Equestria take priority over nearly everything. At least, that was Redheart’s excuse for keeping away from large crowds.

Ahead, Ponyville’s spire of a town hall lorded over the cluster of hay-woven roofs crowded around it. Mayor Mare, bless her heart, was probably planning a similar gathering this very moment (on top of trying to account for the town’s wild influxes of losses and gains after what she called, “The Great Depression”).

It was funny, in a morbid kind of way. In the rush of everything going on, Twilight still hadn’t had processed being the cause of a dark period of Equestrian history. What she did know was the cost such a party would demand.

She also knew one big party containing everypony Starlight had ever known was superior to two smaller ones in almost every way. She didn’t need Pinkie Pie to tell her that much.

“Redheart,” said Twilight, turning back to her, “in your opinion, how do you think the residents of Ponyville feel about attending a Changeling Gourd Fest?”

The nurse wore an absolutely stumped expression before breaking into a fit of laughter. “First,” she said from behind a foreleg, “they’d ask what in Celestia’s name a ‘Gourd Fest’ is.”

Twilight grinned despite her aching heart. This was good. This would be a wonderful idea, but first, she had a town to meet tomorrow, and a king to write to.

---

She only meant that Starlight got ponies, understood them. That if not for her, the Changelings would still be evil and Equestria a buffet. Or plunged into darkness by the Pony of Shadows. Sunset’s world might have been a crazy dictatorship ruled by a fame-seeking movie star.

Now her integrity as a friend was being attacked, and Dash was too busy reeling from the shock, looking more guilty as a result.

What am I trying to accomplish? What, like this is part of some grand masterplan?

She searched the ground for words. “I’m,” she started, “just tryna get you to smile. That’s it in a nutshell.”

Starlight rolled her eyes. “Please.” She sounded just as bored as she had been since Trixie left them. It was really beginning to grate. “You expect me to believe that after what I just said?”

Why you… Rainbow exhaled hard, venting out her frustrations. Starlight was clearly out of it. Thing is, she wasn’t exactly wrong. Lying to herself was second-nature for Rainbow. It had to be if she was to muster the courage needed for always risking failure.

Objectively speaking, she was the fastest pony of their generation. But “the best?”

Rainbow groaned and sighed at once. Her pride was going to be a juicy pulp by the end of the day, wasn’t it?

“No,” she said, “and I don’t blame you for not. Starlight, I’m no good at this stuff. I’ve avoided this feelings-junk for so long, I’ve no idea where to start for myself, much less you. But I’ve always made up for it in being the most dependable friend a pony could ask for.”

Starlight cocked a brow. “Like selling Fluttershy into indentured servitude for a book?”

“A first edition!” Seriously? Rainbow made sure it stung when she smacked her own forehead. “Augh! See what I mean?” she cried. “Starlight, I suck at this stuff. My feelings, my words, they leave my brain before I actually think about what I’m about to say. It’s... a problem. A huge one, okay? But because it’s a problem, could you just, I dunno, believe me here? That I’m serious when I tell you that I’m really, kinda… enormously worried about you?”

Rainbow felt like she was about to die, panting, keeping her eyes locked with Starlight’s.

After all that, after spilling her guts out with all the grace of Twilight on ice skates, Starlight just seemed to glare at Rainbow Dash with lips slightly parted. Like she wanted to reply, but had no clue where to start deconstructing the pool of word vomit Dash had just spewed at her.

“Well?” Rainbow cried. “Say something already, kid!”

Dash held her cheek, heat seeping into the frog of her hoof. She wanted to die. Starlight thought she was such a blabbering, blubbering, uncool idiot right now.

“I know how hard it is. Having that personality flaw.” Starlight’s gaze lowered, then her eyes shut. “It took a while, but I’ve come to accept that this problem is why my life’s where it is now. For better or worse.” Dash was about to call her crazy when suddenly their eyes met, Starlight’s glimmering as she said, “I’ve gotten myself into more trouble with this brain of mine than you, so don’t start talking yourself down now.”

Rainbow recoiled. She wasn’t about to, but she might as well have for all the good her own brain has done her. Useless as it was. “A mistake is still a mistake, no matter the excuse.”

Starlight forced a humorless laugh. Wrong thing, Rainbow. Stupid thing to say.

“Yeah,” she said, “you got that right.”

And then Starlight Glimmer, one of the strongest and brightest minds Rainbow Dash had ever known, clenched her eyes shut, squeezing out a moist shine to the hiccup of a little sob.

Dash’s heart beat. Starlight inhaled deeply. Shakingly. Brokenly. She gnashed her teeth shut, just as Rainbow felt the tail end of a heartbeat smash against her ribcage.

Her friend was crying. She was crying, and Dash was just watching. She had a voice, dang it! “S-Starlight…” Rainbow moved to give her a hug, because who cares if somepony saw, or what Starlight herself thought. “Don’t cry. You’ll bounce back, I know you—-”

Starlight whirled and leered right in her face. “Oh, would you just shut up with all that?! Would all of you stop telling me that?!”

“What? What’d I say?!” Rainbow cried. “You gotta relax, Starlight! I know you’re—-”

“Oh, don’t tell me to relax. I have the Celestia-darned right to tell you girls to piss off if I wanted to, and none o’ ya have the audacity to give me crap for it!”

Where was this coming from?! And that gross language! “And we wouldn’t! We haven’t! But, Starlight, this’s exactly what you’ve been doing for the past few days! Maybe not right in our faces, but your actions have said plenty.” Starlight, eyes welled and wide, looked absolutely puzzled. She really has been stuck in her own head, hasn’t she? “You told Rarity off when she just wanted to talk,” Rainbow listed with her wings, “you’ve given Twilight the slip every chance you get—-even though she’s practically killing herself over what you’ve done here—-treated me to one heck of a cold shoulder, when all I’ve done is fly your stupid kite and try talking to ya!”

“Well pardon me for not wanting you girls involved in my mistakes,” Starlight sneered. “And excuse my inability to kindly tell ponies to stop caring about me—-it’s not as easy as you think. And for the record,I didn’t ask you to hang out with me. You were the one so desperate to ‘chillax!’ And what the heck is that, anyway?!”

“We want to be involved, though!” Dash was beating her chest in time with her frantic heartbeat. She didn’t even know when she’d started flying. A glance down revealed the kite having been long gone. “All of us, we’re all worried about you, Starlight! We wanna help you, but you won’t let us!”

“Because I don’t want it!”

“Then say that, you blockhead!” The nickname rolled out in all directions of the surrounding grasslands. “If you really don’t like us that much, then tell us so we can all save ourselves the trouble and energy giving another thought to your ungrateful butt!”

“Then go already!”

Rainbow Dash blinked. “H-huh?” Solid ground slammed up to meet her hooves. “That’s it? That’s all you’re gonna say?”

As if she herself hadn’t said plenty already. Something heavy and awful, like the anxiety before a ‘bolts show, pressed against her chest.

“Leave!” Starlight snarled, her tears trickling down at last. “Go! I don’t care! You…” she croaked, looking away, shaking her head, bringing a hoof up to meet her eyes. “You’ve lost my kite. Now I gotta make another. Just… leave, Rainbow, please.”

Leave. Rainbow’s legs wouldn’t move, so stiff they ached—-a potent pain creeping up into her stomach, devouring her from the inside. Leave! All of Trixie’s veiled insults suddenly felt validated. It’s not that Starlight hated them, but she had always been toeing a line around Twilight and the others—-no matter how close they’ve gotten. Especially now, in these sucky times, being too polite to decline her friends but not rude enough to outright tell them ‘No.’

Rainbow ought to have known better, having been friends with Fluttershy all her life. Avoiding their efforts to help suddenly made a lot of sense. If only Dash was smart enough to spot the familiar pattern sooner.

Her mouth attempted forming words, once, twice. Starlight closed into herself all the while, shoulders throbbing soundlessly. “Starlight,” she managed, “I’m really sorry.”

Slowly, subtly, Starlight’s head trembled in agreement. “Me too.”

Anxiety came like the Plague, devouring Rainbow’s innards at a rate faster than she could take off, soaring high, higher, so high that Ponyville eventually looked like a sand-colored zit on the face of Equestria. So high that Amistad, the mountain of Canterlot and seat of the Two Sisters, was a mere pencil point in her eyes. So high that clouds stopped passing by, though Dash made sure she grabbed a couple and clumped them together as she ascended.

Higher, faster, she soared, until in a matter of seconds the sky was a deep, dark blue doming her in. Wind no longer whistled in her ears, and nopony would hear Dash throw a big, stupid tantrum into her cloud, because she was too stupid to keep a cool head and make Starlight happy.

She’d failed her. She’d return to Twilight, a failure to her, too.

But there was a silver lining to all this mess, though it didn’t occur to Rainbow Dash until after the fact:

They now knew what was going through Starlight’s head. Why she was avoiding them. Yippie. Mission accomplished. Dash rolled over in her cloud, sinking into the vast plushness of its depths and drifting off to sleep. But not before scrubbing her eyes one last time. It took all her being not to zip back down there and apologize to Starlight once more.

She’d just blurt out something stupid, anyway. Make it even worse.

Again.

Like she always had.

---

Starlight had officially destroyed her friendship with Rainbow Dash. It didn’t matter! It was going to end anyway, better sooner than later. This was fine. It was fine.

As she strode through town, going nowhere with heavy albeit satisfied heart, a mass of pink fluff wearing somepony’s upside-down face popped into view. “Hiya, Starlight!”

Pinkie Pie. It’s been… Actually, since the day before that awful party, Starlight hadn’t even thought of Pinkie in much the same way as she hadn’t thought about Maud in the weeks leading up to Twilight’s visit. Maybe it was a Pie thing.

But she couldn’t say that. Pinkie might brush it off, but nopony, not even one as relentlessly cheerful as her, liked to be forgotten. Especially not Pinkie. Starlight tried forming her name as a start, but her throat was shut tight, her previous train of thought having crashed and burned harder than that delightful “chillaxing” session with Dash. How much did she know about already?

And of course, Pinkie started gaping like a fish, too, albeit enthusiastically, because everything was an opportunity for fun with her. “You chewing bubblegum?” Pinkie laughed before an answer could begin manifesting. “Can I have some?” She hopped off wherever she was standing, landing like a feather on four hooves without so much as a shiver tickling Starlight’s. “Well, can I? Can I? Huh-huh-huh?” she asked, inching closer with every word.

This pony.

“Um,” Starlight laughed breathily, placing a step of distance between them, “no, sorry. I don’t have any. Just caught off guard, is all!”

Pinkie did a little hop, bringing her hooves together in a pencil-fine point. “Yeah, I do that a lot to ponies,” she drawled adorably, like a foal would. Starlight suppressed forming a weird grin with all her might. “Besides, I can’t have any chewing gum for a while now! Lookie lookie, Starlight: braces! See? Eeeeee.”

Sure enough, Pinkie grinned as wide as possible, and a hesitant, hornless screw-up smiled sheepishly back. “Not that those aren’t cool,” said Starlight, “not to mention expensive-looking, but why? You have the metabolism of, well, somepony without one. I didn’t think you’d need something like this.”

“Me neither! But I’ve had this funny-sounding mouth-sickness called an ‘overbite’ my whooo—-” inhale, “ —-ooooole life. So, I’ve been setting money aside since I started working with the Cakes, just because!”

It wasn’t even necessary for her health, and yet Pinkie was far more mature in her lifestyle choices than Starlight ever was.

And her brain wouldn’t stop making a pity party for herself. “That’s… really smart of you, Pinkie!” said Starlight, her genuinity masking a wrenching in her tone.

She was so pathetic.

But at least she fooled Pinkie, who beamed a silvery smile, none the wiser. “Thanks! It’s achy sometimes, but at least I got this neat little cheese grater in my mouth.”

Starlight laughed in despair, even though Pinkie, in all likelihood, would flick her tail at logic’s face and come out of this with a mouthful of perfect pearls. “Don’t tell me that’s what you’re actually using them for.”

“Heck, no, sister!”

The penny-pincher in Starlight, lingering from her years ruling Our Town, sighed with relief. “Never thought I’d be so glad to hear that,” she remarked.

“Nah, I use ‘em for chocolate shavings on top of cakes.” Pinkie smiled like there was nothing wrong with that.

“Okay, ew, on about two levels.” Not to mention that if I tried that, I’d get permanent stains on my teeth after having just one chocolate bar. That was just her luck, though. Nothing to get worked up about.

“Hey, I brush my teeth,” Pinkie defended happily.

“It wouldn’t matter if you didn’t!” Starlight frowned as Pinkie’s did, ever so slightly, and she tilted her head. In her peripherals, she noticed some passersby looking in her direction, whispering.

Oh, Starlight realized, I just yelled that, didn’t I? She must have sounded aggressive—the exact opposite of what she was feeling.

...Right? Her entire being was writhing still, as if trying to escape her very skin. It drove her crazy.

“Hey, Starlight! Let’s go see the Cutie Mark Crusaders!”

Oh. No. Not Pinkie. She was one of the last ponies who needed to deal with Starlight. “Might I ask why?” She finally knew better than to outright decline. The least she could do was appear interested.

“Be-cause,” Pinkie said as she dipped down with her tone, “those girls might have just the thing you need to hear right now! I can feel it in my gut.”

Oh. So that was her game. I’m hornless, so why not presume I’m feeling talentless, too. Directionless. It wasn’t wrong, not at all. In fact, it was right on the money. But Starlight, in all her pettiness, despite her willpower, couldn’t stop feeling the way she instinctively did.

Like how she felt their assurances of her strength weren’t totally sincere. Like they talked about how twisted and screwed-up she was behind her back, how out-of-control she’s been acting. Maybe Pinkie somehow knew already of this morning’s magical mishap, and ostensibly Twilight, and this was their subtle attempt at damage control: a trio of fillies who specialized in helping little baby foals discover their destiny.

It would be a waste of time. Starlight’s was already set in stone, no matter what those kids guessed. Pinkie, the girls, they were probably set up to try and make her feel better.

Or maybe they were genuine.

Starlight sighed with all the weight pressing against her. Congrats, Reeka, if you can hear me. It’s clearer than ever that I don’t deserve these wonderful ponies in my life.

Twilight, Rainbow, Rarity and Pinkie. All of them tolerated her, each one of them were better ponies than Starlight Glimmer. It was no wonder they were destined to bear the Elements of Harmony.

The very least she could do was humor them. Humor them until it became clear that her involvement in their lives was obsolete. Then, Starlight could vanish into the night without them sparing a further thought forever after.

“I don’t suppose there’s any point in denying that I have a problem?” she said, drawing Pinkie’s attention from the blades of cut grass she’d arranged into a smiling pony.

“Nope!” chirped the party pony. She half-expected that.

Starlight really needed to kick this habit of underestimating her friends. “I suppose claiming that I don’t need their help, despite the fact that it’ll be a waste of your time and theirs, is off the table as well?”

Pinkie’s face fell to plainness, processing this. She was about to laugh, wasn’t she? Instead, her hoof shot out and practically stabbed Starlight in the brain. “Time with friends is never wasteful, ya goof,” she said, knocking the freshly-mended nerves wired down Starlight’s foreheads.

She set it down, gently. “I’m telling you, it’s literally impossible for anything to come out of this.”

Pinkie winced as if she’d gotten a whiff of hot garbage. “In this crazy, fun-tacular world, do you really think getting good advice is impossible?”

“It’s not that. I mean, ugh!” Was she really trying to argue with this mare’s logic? Was Starlight really so far gone at this point? “I know you, Pinkie. You’ve proven me to be dead-wrong before.” She would never, ever forget the day she tried studying Pinkie Sense, only to hear from the respectful, kind princess who’d forgiven Starlight that she, too, very nearly lost her mind trying to grasp something so absurd. “Ideally, this time will be no different. At worst, it’s a big waste of time. So… what’ve I got to lose?”

Some naive part wanted to believe.

And she must have shown it in her weirdly expressive face, known to everypony but the owner herself, for Pinkie’s discerning eye was nowhere in sight. Just a smile big enough for the two of them, lined with silver and… Oh! Starlight hadn’t even realized each brace was decorated with a tiny balloon, bedazzling Pinkie’s mouth with a pattern of topaz and zircon: blue, yellow, blue, blue, yellow, blue, blue…

How’d she miss that before? “Your smile’s gorgeous, Pinkie,” she blurted out.

Pinkie gasped, squishing her cheeks in a way Starlight could only describe as emotional. “Thank you! Now, come on,” she cheered, whipping around. “We gotta hustle our bustles. Unless Scootaloo challenged them to a race, the girls should still be enjoying their sundaes at Sugarcube. So! You ready to race? Huh? Are ya?” She pawed the ground, ready for a challenge.

Starlight yawned, exhausted already, yet unable to resist a smile. “Whatever, Pinkie.”

“But you wanna race, right?”

“Not particularly. But now, for you? Okay. If only because you didn’t bring up my horn once.” She brushed gently by, a touch she hoped Pinkie read as an appreciative sign.

Her friend adopted a gentle disposition. Maybe she had. It lingered as she faced the road ahead, knees cocking, and in a tone to match, she asked, “You ready?”

“Just don’t hold back. And keep being you.” Smiling, joking, acting “normal” no matter the tragedy around them. It was everything Starlight hoped for coming home from Flutter Valley. She’d actually forgotten that amidst everything.

“Oh-kay! On you marks, get set… go!”

Starlight never thought she’d be so happy to lose as she galloped, keeping a leisure pace alongside a trail of smoke and coughing ponies.

Maybe in that weird, cosmic way of hers, Pinkie sensed Starlight’s desperate need of something like this. “Normalcy.”

Sure. And the moon was made of cheese. It was just who she was: living to make ponies not only smile, but feel comfortable enough doing so. She did, after all, have her moments of subtlety as often as she was truly overwhelming.

Even in making Twilight’s last party happen, she’d tried and pretty much succeeded at getting everypony to forget the reason for its occurrence. It was calculated, for she always sought to overshadow what was wrong. Despite the affair being nothing than her usual manner of partying, it was far from a melancholy get-together. That much was clear, even in Starlight’s rush to slip out.

In spite of its disgusting formulation, manifestation, and very purpose, Pinkie Pie did what she did best: took something sad and turned it into something… comfortable.

Just like now.

Maybe Starlight was biased, though. After all, she was the only other pony who refused to believe Twilight was a goner.

‘Nothing is impossible.’ Naive in many ways, but Starlight would be the first to admit she wasn’t a particularly mature pony.

Maybe there was hope within the CMCs.

---

But maybe this was a colossal mistake.

“See how it’s kinda like Twilight’s? Maybe it’s got something to do with friendship after all! Doncha think that fits into your analysis? Huh?” said Sweetie Belle, leering into Scootaloo’s personal bubble as if that asserted her opinion extra hard.

At least this stool has a cushion on it, thought Starlight.

“Then what about the squiggles coming off that star-bit?” Starlight straightened as she felt a firm smacked against her flank. If it was anypony else…

“You’ve forgotten those again,” Scootaloo continued. “You keep forgetting that her OG talent was magic. But she can’t do it anymore, so it can’t be anything like that!”

“No, I didn’t,” growled Sweetie.

It was so weird that Scootaloo—pint-sized Rainbow Dash Scootaloo—was being smarter than book-loving, cultured Sweetie Belle in this situation.

But much stranger things have happened this past week alone.

“Say it again, Scoots,” muttered Apple Bloom. “Just one more time. I reckon Starlight’s not sick of bein’ reminded o’ that.”

“I said it’s fine,” she droned.

“No, no,” said Sweetie, shaking her head. “In my theory, they could represent the magic of friendship, duh. Not literal magic. Think about her cutie mark story! Her ties to magic and how she felt in the moments before getting it. It all lines up perfectly!”

Scootaloo leered closer to the unicorn. “There’s more to magic than just being magical! I’m a pegasus pony, and even I know that! Starlight used to be better than Twilight, because that was her talent!”

Sweetie Belle leered as well, crashing their foreheads together. “Then tell her to pack her bags and take a hike, already!”

Starlight was shocked, horrified, and moved all at once to see tears beading both fillies’ eyes.

“You know that isn’t what I’m saying!” cried the cripple.

“Both o’ y’all are bein’ wacky!” Apple Bloom cried from the middle. “It don’t matter whether the magic on her mark’s ‘lateral’ or symbolic. It’s deeply tied to the stuff, but without her horn, she can’t do nothin’ about it.” Apple Bloom looked pointed to Sweetie Belle, whose gaze lowered with bitter understanding as she wiped her eyes. Scootaloo mirrored her as she received the same, Apple Bloom telling her, “But that don’t mean it’s not any magic, period. We’ve been at this long enough to know that can’t be the case!” The farmpony plopped into a thinking pose. “Now there must be some kinda connection between the Starlight then and the one we know now. Something that hasn’t changed.” She glanced up to the puzzled fillies on either side. “Come on, girls! We need to think outside the box, here!”

At least one of them was being a realist, too. “I feel like Apple Bloom’s on the right track, girls,” said Starlight, combing her tail with strokes of the hoof. “I’ll admit it seems… unlikely,” she decided, carefully, “unlikely that my destiny has completely changed, but if you’re right—-”

“I’m telling you, it hasn’t. It couldn’t have changed, it’s impossible! Come on, Starlight. You gotta trust us on this one.” Sweetie’s eyes shone brighter than emeralds.

“Even though we’re kids to you,” added Apple Bloom.

That wasn’t it at all. These fillies, despite the situation, were in their own ways brilliant girls. But they probably wouldn’t believe Starlight, despite it being the truth for once. Really, she trusted Sweetie was the cutest pony to have ever lived a little more. “Okay, girls. I believe in you,” she said, a smile tugging at her cheeks.

Sweetie smiled, biting her lip with the pink from her mane bleeding into her cheeks. “That means a lot from you. Thanks, Starlight. What happened to you was just terrible, and I’m really sorry about that.”

“Yeah, we all are,” said Scootaloo. Apple Bloom nodded between them from the floor, equally as morose. The world was so lucky to have these three guiding future generations.

“But if there’s one thing we’ve learned in this job,” Sweetie continued, “it’s that nothing is ever random. Nothing. Come on, girls. I know you know what I’m talking about, right?”

She and Starlight looked across the clubhouse to the others, both clearly knowing, but neither loving the idea. “Sweets,” Scootaloo began after exchanging a silent conversation with Apple Bloom, “this situation is kinda different, though. We’ve never dealt with ponies who made deals with witches before.”

Word sure traveled fast in this small town. Thank Celestia they bought the filly-friendly version of the “old and lame” pony’s tale this generation was too good for.

“Sure, but think about it! This is no different from Troubleshoes.”

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom groaned at this pony’s name, the latter of which mumbling, “Again?” and indicating this wasn’t the first time they’ve had this discussion.

“I’m serious! Come on, tell me I’m wrong here: he’s misread his mark his entire life, thinking it represented bad luck. But then we came along. Because of us, he redefined it and was able to fulfill his deepest desire: to be a rodeo pony! And if it weren’t for him, we’d not have helped Diamond Tiara and eventually got these.” Sweetie gestured to the colorful shield on her flank, inciting her friends to take a moment of silence to admire theirs as well, and reminisce.

Sweetie, facing no argument, smirked proudly as she rounded back on Starlight. “And I’m convinced, beyond reasonable doubt, that you’re not very different. Losing your horn, even though it’s very sad, hasn’t changed anything. In fact, this might be your chance to find your life’s true purpose! And you’re smart, Starlight. One of the smartest ponies we’ve ever known! Maybe even Equestria!” she squeaked. “You gotta understand me, don’t you?”

Starlight forced herself to meet the squeaky filly with a smile. That’s what I thought too, she wished to say. I thought the exact same as you. But then I met the masters of Fate and went and altered mine for Twilight’s… My talent was magic. My ability, my talent, reasoning, creativity… my whole life has revolved around it. Starlight bit her tongue, forcing her heartache into actual pain. Don’t cry, darn you. Don’t you break these kids’ hearts, too. Come on! Twilight, Rainbow, Maud and now this? ...Nothing happens for no reason, sure, but nothing in life is free, either. This is different, kid. I’m sorry. I can’t help it, and neither can you.

Starlight lifted her eyes, blinking dryly, and meeting the girls’ hopeful or reassuring smiles with one that was at least worthy of their time, souls, and efforts. “That’s a comforting thought. Okay, yeah, I’m game to hear you out. What about the two of you?”

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom dropped their smiles, exchanging looks and then a nod.

“Here’s what I think,” said the pegasus, striding to the window of their clubhouse. “In the years we’ve done this, there hasn’t been a single pony whose real talent was what they originally thought it was. That’s when they’ve already had their cutie mark, by the way.” Starlight nodded. “So, yeah, I think Sweetie’s onto something. I wasn’t doubting that, either! So don’t think I was! I’m just saying we’ve never had a pony be, what was it, ‘cut off from magic entirely?’ That’s a weird and… kinda dumb thing to think, Starlight. No offense. But everypony has magic within them. Our cutie marks themselves are magic!”

“They’re tied to our very souls. It’s a might special, doncha think?” Apple Bloom wondered wistfully.

“Y-yeah. It is, isn’t it?” But the witches controlled, no, they themselves were all the magic in Equestria. It wasn’t special. It was calculated. It was unsettling. And it clung to Starlight’s mind and never let go once it got ahold. “It took me far longer than my formative years to really get that,” she confessed, “that’s for sure. But—-”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sweetie gasped. “Say that again, would you, Starlight?”

“Uh, yeah, no, I didn’t realize cutie marks or even destiny were a thing, even after grade school. I sort of shut all that stuff out after… well…”

“Sunburst. I get it,” Apple Bloom intoned. “As in, I really get it. Yeah, now I see where you’re getting at, Sweetie.”

“Well, I don’t!” Scootaloo flopped down, crossing her forelegs. “Somepony talk plainly for those of us who can’t speak in code!”

“Keep yer wings on! We was gettin’ to that part.”

Sweetie Belle took a seat on the floor before Starlight, who was ready to offer her the chair before she asked, “Could you tell us how you got your cutie mark again?”

“Again?” groaned Scootaloo. “We’ve heard it, like, three times already!”

“I’m inclined to agree,” said Starlight. “Sweetie Belle, what do you want to know you don’t already?”

The filly shrugged, gazing upon her with curious green eyes. “It doesn’t hurt to be thorough. The devildog’s in the details, after all. Plus… the fact that you’re talent was supposedly magic, but you didn’t know something like that.” She gave a shrug. “I dunno. It seems kinda like the first thing all powerful unicorns just kinda know. Like, in their guts and stuff.”

Scootaloo snorted. “Congrats, Sweetie Belle. You’re sounding more like Rarity by the day. Lemme tell ya.”

She beamed instead of being insulted. “My point being, maybe you’ll tell us something we hadn’t heard yet.”

Starlight felt her face heat up, not wanting to annoy them. But she had to be honest. They wouldn’t get anything more out of this. “What else can I say?” She scratched her mane, averting their big curious eyes. “I wanted to follow Sunburst into Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. So I practised and practised and practised. I didn’t really care for magic at the time, only rejoining my best friend. And yet, he didn’t write to me once. I… None of that’s important, I’m sorry! Uh, l-long story short, I thought he didn’t want to be my friend. That he was off doing better things without me to tie him down.” She inhaled, she sighed. “Years passed, still no cutie mark… I was less one mother, and now one friend. My only friend I had the courage to make, and the absolute terror of losing. But I did. All because of our cutie marks. I swore to myself that if I ever got powerful, I’d never let another pony experience the same, horrible heartbreak that I did! I know now that I was, of course, part of the problem, but you try telling a foal to figure that out about herself. No, instead, I blamed losing Sunburst on cutie marks—-if I’d gotten mine sooner, or if he wasn’t so good at magic, then we would still be friends. The day I got my mark, I wasn’t in any mood for it. And I got good at magic: powerful enough to muster all my edgy hatred of the world into firing a basic concussion spell, burning a hole through Daddy—er, Dad’s study. And his mane.” She blushed harder at the memory than she did letting his nickname slip. Oh, gosh, he probably didn’t even know about all this…

“He was too proud of me to care, though,” Starlight croaked. “I couldn’t care less, though. Told him he could stuff the popularity contests that were cute-ceaneras where the sun don’t shine: the back of his mind! And it’s not like I’d made any friends to attend it, anyway. Thought that Sunburst was too good to want to come to mine, even if I invited him after years of silence. After that, well, you girls know the rest. And some years later, here I am: hornless and hopeless and getting life advice from a trio of twelve-year-olds.”

“Um, actually, I’m thirteen.”

Apple Bloom told Scootaloo what she thought of that with a swift punch to the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“Be more sensitive, dummy!”

“But it’s the exact same story, word for word. What do you want me to say?”

“Somethin’ sensible, at least. Nopony gives a worm’s butt about yer age right now, least of all Starlight.”

“Actually,” Sweetie cut in, “I think I might have figured it out.”

“You have?” the others present cried at once. Starlight doubted it… but she was really hoping for a miracle here, she realized.

A light pink dusted the pretty filly’s cheeks as she explained, “Really, it’s not so different from what I’ve said about Troubleshoes. Think about it: Starlight swore another pony would never feel the heartbreak she felt, thinking she lost Sunburst because of cutie marks.”

“I actually think ‘heartbreak’ was just a little strong—”

“It was heartbreak,” Apple Bloom said aloud. “I’m a might sorry, Starlight. But we’ve heard ya justify an’ regret back and forth like some kinda mental buckball game the last three times we heard this. Some ponies might not understand, but trust us: we ain’t judgin’ ya. We’d have been heartbroken, I reckon, if somethin’ like that were to happen to one of us. Right, girls?”

Sweetie nodded energetically. Scootaloo blurted out, “Like I’d start brainw—ow!”

Apple Bloom rubbed the hoof she struck her with. “Gonna hafta wash your mouth out with soap when we’re done here, Ah swear t’... Continue, Sweetie Belle. Sorry ‘bout that, Starlight.”

“No, I get the reaction.” She and Scootaloo exchanged understanding smiles. Maybe the mini-Rainbow Dash, much like her owner, couldn’t fathom being in a state where a series of mental gymnastics justified convincing ponies that their lives were better without individuality. But she was a kid, and she meant well. She was miles ahead of thirteen-year-old Starlight.

“Moving on,” Sweetie continued, “the emotions you felt are just as important to your cutie mark as the action you’d performed. Just like with Troubleshoes: he got his mark being klutzy, sure, but he was doing what he loved—-being a part of the rodeo he loved so much. It was a part of his true self! And, really, at the end of the day, that’s all a cutie mark is: everything you are and will be, tied to a picture on your flank. That’s something not a force in Equestria can change, especially some pony-eating witches.”

Outside, a slight breeze rustles the leaves hugging their clubhouse.

“Woah,” Scootaloo breathed, looking like her little mind’s just been blown. “That’s… that’s actually really smart. Like, it makes a lot of sense when you put it that way!”

“So what you’re saying is,” said Apple Bloom, “or rather, what you’ve been tryna say, is that it could very well have somethin’ to do with magic and friendship after all?” pondered Apple Bloom. “Kinda like Twilght. It ain’t no coincidence their cutie mark’s are practically spittin’ images of one another.”

“Now if that’s one mystery solved, then what about the magic coming off it?” Scootaloo walked to Starlight’s flank as if the mare attached to it didn’t care a lick about personal space. “I mean, it could be going into it, too. Maybe… forcing ponies to be friends with friendship magic? Like the Elements of Harmony?”

“Or her magic could be changing it. Altering friendship. Somehow.” The girls looked to Sweetie Belle doubtfully. Even Starlight. “What? That’s just as valid as Scootaloo’s!”

“You’ve been on a roll this whole time, then you had to go and ruin your streak by saying something that makes zero sense!”

“Read a book, it expands your mind now and again! You should try it for once!”

Starlight sighed as the two fell back into bickering, with Apple Bloom continuing the awkward role of floor decoration, thinker, and mediator. Starlight resigned to her destiny as an assaulter of friendship, if their line of thinking was in any way accurate.

At the end of the day, none of this mattered. The girls had zero clue as to the true identity of Hydia and her brood. That they were more than powerful beings, but power themselves: the source of all magic, Destiny, the weavers of everypony who’d ever lived and the fates which suited them like a glove. It was all too perfect.

It was selfish to think it all built up to a chance encounter last week. The ultimate sacrifice to pay Twilight back for all Starlight had put her through. Destiny wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows, however lucky some ponies seemed. Tempest Shadow, at the very least, made her point perfectly clear in that regard, though Starlight applauded her best efforts to rage against this painful fact of life.

That she and Starlight Glimmer, if nothing else, were stepping stones to elevating Twilight Sparkle, Element of Magic, and Princess of Friendship.

And that was worth it.

She would certainly do far more than either of them ever would with her power. Starlight found contentment with that fact whenever she’d lose sight of what was really important.

It was worth it.

“Dunno. It ain’t up to us at the end of the day.” Orange-red eyes suddenly met Starlight’s. Apple Bloom probably had the most gorgeous eyes she’d ever seen. “Starlight?” They always seemed alight with ideas, brilliant. She was going to do great things, warm many hearts, affect many lives beyond that. All three of them were.

What was one, useless unicorn against all that?’

“Starlight, are you ok?” wondered Apple Bloom. For whatever reason, the other two had gone quiet.

Starlight was too preoccupied with her lap to be sure. “Y-yeah, I am,” she answered steadily. “It’s a lot to take in. That’s all.”

“So, ya think it’s a good idea? You’ll give it a try?”

Starlight nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah I will! It shows a lot of promise. You girls really helped me out, I gotta say.” It was much harder to keep smiling as the girls started cheering, jumping around Starlight, even as she got up from the stool and paced for the clubhouse door.

It was almost impossible to keep it going once they began to chant, “We helped Star-light! We helped Star-light!”

The dam almost burst as she turned to wave goodbye, only to find those angels already waving after her from the window. Sweetie Belle was particularly energetic, her foreleg wagging faster than a dog’s tail as she called out in her girlish, squeaky voice, “Come back if you want anymore help! Okay?! The Cutie Mark Crusaders are a twenty-four-seven business!”

Starlight grinned, even as their encouraging little faces blurred together. “Heh, you know it!” She whipped around as wet warmth tickled and trickled down her cheeks. They kept calling after her, wishing her luck, yelling something about talking to friends.

She was too far for them to notice, then, thank Hydia.

---

“Are you suuure you’re not lying, Glimmy?” Pinkie asked, bouncing in step beside her. “‘Cause Twilight said you might be.”

On any other day, Starlight would voice her insecurity veiled in some quip about Twilight’s lack of trust in her. But that was before she realized how valid those fears were, how they came from a place of truth and delusions.

“Trust me, Pinkie, if I was lying you’d be the first to know. Trust me, I’m not that good at it.”

“But you were crying after meeting the Crusaders! And you won’t even tell me what they told you.”

“I was smiling, though! Those were tears of joy—-come on, Pinkie. Did my smile look fake to you?”

“No siree! But you’re a crafty type, Glimmy. You coulda been remembering a funny joke in order to trick me.”

In reality, Starlight was happy to make the girls happy, but Pinkie was scary with how smart she could abruptly get. “You’re being silly,” Starlight chuckled, because she was tickled to know such a relentlessly unique pony. Always surprising, never dull. A great friend as a whole, one who cared so much about her.

They deserved so much better than Starlight Glimmer. “You know what I’m in the mood for?” she asked as it popped into her head.

“Ooh, ohh, wait! Lemme guess.” Pinkie came before her, hopping backwards as the trees of Sweet Apple Acres became bared of apples, and they passed beneath an archway and hung a right on the path leading back into town. “Um, let’s see here… you wanna go skydiving! With Princess Cadance!”

“What? No way!” Starlight laughed.

“You wanna eat a forbidden tome and absorb its knowledge for your own personal gain!”

“Ha! Close, but no.”

Pinkie stuck her tongue out, gazing into the sky with her single opened eye. “Ooh! Ooh! Wait! I got it: you wanna gorge yourself on a ton of yummerrific cake till you’re puking rainbows all over the place!”

“Okay, first of all, gross. Second of all, yeah, pretty much!”

Pinkie Pie reared up, practically whinnying. “Wee-hee! Let’s go!”

They “raced” one another to Sugarcube Corner for the second time that day. By the time Starlight reached Sugarcube, and had a miniature crisis at the front door regarding the ogling of fellow patrons, she entered to find the place completely empty save for Pinkie Pie and a trolly packed with baked goods.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” she groaned, drumming the table. “I’m starving and sleepy!”

Starlight salivated on sight. Even more obvious, it completely slipped her mind that she didn’t have any money to pay for all that. Did it even need to be stated that Pinkie insisted it was on her?

Or that Starlight pigged out in an effort to smother the writhing in her chest with a torrent of sugar?

Starlight was disgusting. She was cowardly, a liar, and above all, pathetic. But at least she fooled Pinkie Pie. That was something of an accomplishment alright.

Author's Note:

Next time, as Starlight and her friends prepare for the Gourd Fest at the Changeling Hive, Twilight makes preparations of her own.

After that, the actual Gourd Fest will finally happen and conclude act four at long last.

Comments

[Starlight Glimmer1]

Starlight is definitely being too hard on herself and her friends. Things would probably be easier for her if she told the others how she Really feels.

[TheApexSovereign]

9445815
I completely agree. Sadly, I understand a great deal why she's thinking the way she does. How she knows that, even though they care, an instinctive part of her just knows they aren't totally happy about this, and thus she'd rather avoid making the situation worse by avoiding it altogether. That would be easier, objectively, then letting them get involved in the mess that is herself - this is how she sees it.

Now that that hadn't worked, she's playing along to make them happy with her. At least, that's what she thinks.

[Starlight Glimmer1]

9445826
In the end she’s just doing more harm than good.

[TheApexSovereign]

9445838
As she always has

[sonicandmario826]

Man Twilight and her friends didn’t handle it the best, but Starlight isn’t giving them much leeway to help.

Not to mention her plan of leaving them would just make them feel worse.

[Stonecrop Sedum]

In another universe, I could absolutely see Rainbow Dash being the one to make a deal with the witches and lose her wings to save Twilight. And it would work just as well, too.

At least Starlight didn't totally screw things up with the CMC and Pinkie. Small blessings.

[TheSneek]

Good grief, if Starlight was anymore G/W we’d have to plant her.

[Venlinelle]

I am getting very frustrated at Twilight at this point.

I did really love this chapter, though. Pinkie is, in a weird way, the member of the Mane 7 with the most social skills, and I knew she’d handle Starlight well.
And the scene with the CMC might have been my favorite in this story so far. This is literally their job- well, figuratively, but probably literally eventually- and I suspect they’ll end up being dead right in the end. If Starlight doesn’t eventually find out that her new “destiny” (colloquially speaking) involves magic and friendship despite her insistence that magic is behind her, I’ll be shocked.

Also: Why is no one contacting Suburst?? Starlight, one of your best friends in the world is a brilliant magician who can barely do magic himself but knows more theory than anyone, and you haven’t spoken to him yet about losing your horn?