//------------------------------//
// III.II - Fractured 
// Story: The Broken Bond 
// by TheApexSovereign 
//------------------------------//

Starlight froze between Friendship Castle and Ponyville. A roaring crowd haunted her, as though she were back at her award-turned-graduation ceremony. But it was just a faint echo from town riding in on a warm breeze. Starlight's mane stirred as she recognized it yet having no clue from where. 

And that’s when it hit her. She had heard it. Quite a lot, in fact, though not for an unbelievably long time.

How could she forget the clamor of Market Day? Memories crashed into Starlight like a tidal wave, hard enough to set the world spinning and a dumb grin she couldn't fight if she tried. 

For a minute there, I’d forgotten what a happy, chatty town sounded like! she realized. 

It's been far too long. When they weren’t celebrating the next excuse for a party, this was the one day where Ponyville’s citizens gathered in a single place, or enough, at least, for their chatter to stretch beyond the outskirts of town.

While Sunday was her and Twilight’s day, Starlight also had a ritual with Spike every Wednesday morning: braving the hustle of Ponyville Square. Their mission? A quest to restock the castle larders. Spike took the lead, but Starlight was never willing to fight him on something she knew nothing about. So she waited, watched him squeeze every apple, tomato and potato among countless others, picking the best of the produce while wrinkling his nose at, say, a perfectly good eggplant. It made for an amusing start to the day—Spike would become Rarity, holding the fruits of other ponies' labor to the sun with a critical eye, whilst Starlight exchanged bemused looks with whoever their latest victim was.

What felt like thunder rumbled within Starlight's belly. She was back in the present, she realized with disappointment. A warm breeze rustled her mane, and clamor continued to float in from town. Her stomach ached, clenching as though ready to devour itself. A piece of toast and some applesauce was definitely not enough for a pony who'd not eaten in half a week. Maybe some pity points could be pulled from Roseluck? She was always the kindest of the flower pony trio.

With thoughts of breakfast came her reason for flying out the door in the first place, and a memory of Fizzlepop's bored stare. And now I can't stop remembering that amazing breakfast again. That ridiculous display not only made a fool of herself, but Twilight as well. Starlight knew this for a fact, for she would be embarrassed if her child acted that way in front of, say, Rainbow Dash. 

And suddenly, fantasies of Starlight's own child in place of herself brought about the dog days of summer, impossibly sweltering and suffocating. Starlight dashed for town to cool herself off, and partly to drown those thoughts with her rhythmic hoofbeats. 

She shook her head at town loomed ahead. Yes, her behavior sucked. But it happened, and there was no changing it. She'd live with it, just as she always had, and would soon come out just fine as she had with her hornless existence. 

There was really no need to be a downer about it.

Starlight’s hooves began to clack upon sudden cobblestones. Thatch-roofed huts closed in on either side, and Starlight slowed to a leisurely trot before anypony saw. The distant cacophony of what resembled a room full of ponies fluttered amidst the lazy, sunny morning in Ponyville. 

Afternoon, Starlight reminded herself. Apparently, she'd crashed at dawn and slept until breakfast became brunch—though the walk to the dining room probably helped in that regard. Everypony was waiting for me. Did they think she spent the whole morning walking to the dining room? Starlight certainly would—it only made sense, for the castle was absurdly large. Definitely bigger on the inside. 

Glancing back, the monstrous crystal treehouse stood distant, solitary, the doors shut tight. Nopony had come after her, she realized, not even Twilight. Though she’d left without even saying goodbye, therefore Starlight had no right to begrudge them. 

I should’ve said something. Done something, talked to Twilight about... It didn't matter now. The damage was done. Going back with her ears down would only lead to questions, which needed answers, which would lead to half-truths on Starlight’s part and overreactions on Twilight’s. It was already a mess, there wasn't any need to make it worse. 

But why wouldn't Twilight just pop over right in front of me, asking if I’m okay?Starlight couldn't help but wonder. She wondered what that said about Twilight right now, and the status of her patience resting on a definitive "thin" level. Why… am I even worried about this? Starlight hardened her heart in an instant, banishing such thoughts from mind. She wasn't worried. Twilight was probably tired from the party! Yeah, that made sense. Starlight was just overreacting like always. 

Why would she want Twilight to run after her anyway? To cause a scene? To ask the obvious, 'Are you okay?' Heck, no! In fact, it was great that she hadn't shown up. It meant she was truly respecting Starlight’s strength.

Though it would be nice to know if she was at least wondering about me. Starlight shook her head. She wasn’t the center of the universe, after all. Wearing a smile she clip-clopped along, humming a tune the sun’s warming kiss sending a pleasant shudder down her body.

“Ah!” she moaned. “It’s been so long!”

She hadn’t been outside in almost a week. Good grief. 

Her ears swiveled to the echoing chatter gradually becoming clearer, as it did louder. Starlight skipped a bit, anticipation throbbing in her belly. The sounds of the market were so relaxing, she couldn’t wait to hear it again after two weeks of depressing mumbles.

In her right peripherals, Starlight noticed that Redheart had a day off, sitting on her front step and too engrossed in a book to notice her passing by. Across the street from the nurse, Daisy and Roseluck were snuggling with one another on a royal-blue futon, of all things, deep in an adorable little snooze.

Lily’s ponied up at the stand. Well, she’s nice too! Maybe she’ll offer a free sample. Or a hoofout, or whatever ponies called it. Nothing changed the fact that Starlight was leeching, borderline begging despite being the reason for her current state. 

With that, her heart skipped a beat, her blood ran cold. How are ponies going to react to my horn? Did Twilight tell them already? Deciding which was worse was like deciding which friend you liked more. These questions coiled around Starlight’s chest, constricting tightly. Breathing became a struggle. Keep calm, Starlight. Just play it cool. Play it cool like you did with Twilight, but better. Actually convincing this time. 

Besides, why stress about what these other ponies thought? They were going to find out eventually, she said as much to Hydia. They might be horrified or grossed out or worried, it didn't matter. Starlight was going to treat them with the same reaction: casually, normally. Just play it cool. Starlight only did what a good friend would do, after all. 

If she could manage that, which Starlight totally could (because she was still the same old Starlight, horn or no), then nopony would notice anything unusual. They’d ask questions, to be sure, but she’d answer them all with a smile, easy-peasy. Yet Starlight combed her forelock over an eye, half-obscuring the world by having her horn fully tucked away beneath a curtain of mane. Perfect, she thought with a grin. 

There was no need to cause an uproar. Now she looked like a normal pony, preventing such a panic from taking place. Just a normal pony, living a day in her life like everyone else. 

For most of the walk, a warmth was all there was, caressing Starlight’s back. The distant chatter became louder the closer she got. A wave of noise slammed into Starlight upon rounding a corner. Her ears rang as the spire of Town Hall slid into view with ponies milling in all directions. Finally, the corner of somepony's house fell aside, unveiling the market drowned in a sea of ponies.

The image was startling, then amazing a heartbeat later. There were as many ponies as smiles, chatting in pairs or more, squeezing past faces that were all pleasantly familiar. There were the Cakes and the Apples, the Melodys, even the Riches had emerged from their mansion to join the common rabble in the flesh (though Spoiled looked about as thrilled as Starlight felt in a lecture, back in the days she had such things).

Everywhere she looked was a treasure to behold. A pressure welled in her eyes, her face aglow with dumb, foalish glee, but she was too happy to care. Starlight didn’t want to miss a moment of it. Her belly banged about her in her skin, fighting to be let out until it suddenly did, emerging as a giddy giggle. Nothing was unfamiliar, it was all just as she remembered it! Except something felt off about the whole thing. 

She looked about, switching focus to every stall she and Spike had shopped at before. The same ponies manned them, peddling the same wares. The same ponies she'd known for years haggled with them all, yet every one felt just plain wrong. Like they were a different color and that was all, yet even that wasn't evident in the slightest. 

Starlight shook the craziness from her head. Who was she to complain? This was what she wanted—normalcy. Everypony happy again. She felt embarrassed for Pinkie’s efforts, while commendable. But even she couldn’t raise the town's spirit in light of its best friend's sickness.

“Whoa!” Something attacked Starlight's left. She shot her forelegs out, smashing them upon the paved road, and catching herself with only a gasp and a minor heart attack. She looked aside then ahead and found the culprit: a pair of fillies swerving through the veritable jungle of pony legs, their high, squeaky laughter piercing the monotonous rabble of the market.

Older ponies cried out as well, staggered over the girls, or dramatically diving aside, sending some of their produce bouncing away. A few glared, but most merely gave a shake of the head, smiling fondly. One of them, Blues, gathered his saddlebag and held it open for his groceries to float back, though Starlight could only tell in an empirical sense. 

She couldn't sense his magic. Nor Lyra's. Or anypony's for that matter. 

Starlight smiled to spite this disappointing revelation. Nothing ever seemed to change in Ponyville! Even after what had nearly happened. By Ponyville standards, that was totally abnormal, and Starlight loved it. Over the last two years, she'd really come to enjoy this town for its wealth in personality, and its big heart to boot.

It was everything she aspired for Our Town, but it possessed the crucial ingredient her dream project lacked: love.

The townsponies’ reaction toward Twilight’s sickness was swift and brutal. Pinkie described it best: it was like a big, sad meteor crashed into Ponyville and “blowed up” everypony’s happiness. They’d even set a record for time spent without throwing a party, that is until the girls ruined it with that white flag of a “celebration," which Starlight shoved out of mind and into the past where it belonged. Horrible as this whole affair was, it demonstrated how much the town loved Twilight. They really adored her, and her premature departure would have crushed not just her friends, but the town as a whole. It was hard not to feel envious of that kind of love; would anyone outside of Starlight immediate circle miss her, if she were to suddenly leave them?

But best of all, in spite of Twilight's near-demise, Ponyville seemed to have found it within itself to act as though nothing almost happened. Truly, the oft-repeated saying from Twilight was right: everypony in this town was crazy. Starlight wouldn’t have it any other way, her own wants be darned. 

And yet, something still felt off about it all, while still appearing and metaphorically feeling as delightfully familiar as Starlight remembered. It wasn't in a physical sense, either, this growing discomfort in her gut. It was a different kind of feeling, one she couldn't hope to put her hoof on. 

But the ground felt the same as the sky, which felt the same as the kiosks, with their aura blending into that of the fresh produce on display, like it was all coated in the same stony-grey paint. Dull, the epitome of nothingness, as dramatic as that sounded. It was impossible to describe it any other way, despite the market’s vibe feeling undeniable—and worst of all, absolutely no different from the castle. 

A few kiosks to her right, Starlight was startled by the sudden appearance of a mass of ponies before one of them. It was just Crafty Crate setting up a little bidding session for his last cherry, nothing to get worked up over. It was bright red and juicy-looking—just a normal cherry, nothing unusual about it except for the exuberant prices Lyra and Berry Punch were getting calling out. It didn’t surprise Starlight to notice Crafty merely spectating the two, waiting to see how high they’d go.

But he felt the same as all his customers, and Starlight didn’t know why, and that was terrifying. She didn’t know why these twenty-odd living, breathing, ponies felt equally as powerful as the cherry they were fighting over, or how any of them were on the same level as the living space of one of the most powerful ponies in all the land.

They were all the same, characterized by a heavy dullness Starlight felt in her very hooves. If this was always the reality, Starlight didn’t know why she never realized it until after losing her horn.

Starlight's gut ached horribly at the reminder, and even further taking notice of the glimmering horns scattered about the market, wreathed in glows ranging from common blue to the unique orange of Lyra Heartstrings. Starlight spun away from it all, but was met with the battle for Crafty Crate’s last cherry once again. Bon Bon and Berry Punch were pushing their snouts together, gritting teeth snarling remarks smothered by the noise pollution of the market.

Neither of them felt there! Starlight wanted to scream, unable to stop herself from noticing it now. Why is this happening? she wished to cry out. Why can't everything just go back to normal? It's like everything's a mimic. None of it is right, nothing feels right! What is going on with me? Am I broken?!

The entire market rang louder than ever, ringing Starlight’s ears, gradually turning into a ceaseless, pitched whine until she gasped for air. This isn’t right. A few ponies crept by, their lips moving silently in her direction. They zipped away before Starlight could look into their eyes. This has gotta be a dream! Some twisted, messed-up dream!

That had to be it. It was all a dream, a nightmare. Surely wakefulness was on its blessed way, or Princess Luna would come and explain what Starlight's messed-up brain was trying to tell her this time. Maybe even Twilight’s sickness, and everything that came after, was the result of some horrible, karmic sleep spell for every horrible mistake Starlight had made in her life.

She let go of such ridiculous thoughts. How could Starlight be so selfish as to entertain such notions? She hoped this was real! She could endure this silly emptiness. It wasn’t anything outright bad, just... decidedly weird. Starlight would get through this, she always did!

I can do this, thought Starlight, muttering aloud, “Just stop stressing…” 

You can do this! 

“Just stop stressing!” Starlight cried.

"Starlight Glimmer,” droned somepony through the market’s cacophony, “what is going on?"

Turning, the sight that met her uncoiled all the tightness constricting her within. “Maud!” Starlight cried. She was like a beacon of hope through this sad, confusing maelstrom. It’d been so long since they last saw each other, Starlight couldn’t immediately remember the last time they were together.

Maud Pie approached from the Flower Sisters' stand, where Lily Valley waved to Starlight hurriedly before returning to Comet Tail, and the four ponies behind him.

"Heh, hey there, Maud!" Play it casual, she thought, sighing to school her racing heart. If Maud asks about it, then just... The stoic mare was getting closer. "What brings you into town?"

Maud came to a full stop before her. "It's Boulder and I’s anniversary." She didn’t seem to notice ‘it’ yet.

"Ooh, big day! Is that what the flowers are for?" Starlight leaned in, lifting her back-left hoof. “Looks like you’ve got an entire garden in your saddlebag.”

"He really likes zinnias,” she explained, monotone, but obviously with fondness. A beat later, Maud said, “I don’t think you've noticed, but you lost your horn."

Despite feeling like she was bucked in the chest, Starlight held her smile strong, even widened it a skosh. “Perceptive as ever, eh Maud?” Starlight immediately cursed herself, treating this lightly once again, probably furthering Maud’s concern.

Then she cursed herself a second time: her mane must have swung aside as she whirled around, giving Maud an eyeful of mild body horror.

She was ready to apologize when Maud said, “I’m sorry. What I said was rude. I’m just shocked right now.”

That was no surprise. Anypony would be. “You're telling me!” Starlight hooted. “Imagine waking up and not expecting this?”

Maud blinked, her eyes somewhat widened. Wow, she really was floored by this. “I really can’t. Are you okay?”

Not at all—Starlight was miserable and she was hot and her legs hurt and everything felt about as lifeless as, well, as a rock. But there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in Tartarus she was burdening Maud with any of that mess. “Oh, I’m fine. I mean, yeah, it does sorta suck—I’m not gonna lie—but I really don’t mind! Since it was f—”

Maud raised a hoof. “Wait.” She turned it over, and just stared through it, as though she could see Starlight still.

It was really hard to keep smiling in the face of Maud’s quirky sense of humor. Surely, though, a punchline was about to hit and send her into a gut-busting laugh.

Maud’s hoof dropped, thunking upon the cobblestones. “I think you just lied.”

‘It does kind of stink…’ “Heh, what? Psht!" Starlight waved her off. “Your knees must be sore, Maud! Jumping to conclusions like that.”

Maud cruelly waited just long enough to make Starlight fill the awkward silence with a titter.

“Not really,” she finally said. “I’m not much of a jumper." 

Starlight forced a laugh. "Right." 

"Besides, I was only making an observation. Your reaction indicates that I was somewhat correct.”

Starlight frowned. What gave Maud the authority to assert such things about other ponies? Especially her best non-Pie friend? Starlight analyzed her friend’s statuesque stance from hoof to ear, seeing no falter or giveaway in its posture. As always. “I think you’re just taken aback by all this.”

Shoppers murmured all around, ignoring their discussion.

“That makes two of us, then,” Maud replied. Surely she was smirking inside this very moment. 

Starlight furrowed her brows at the notion. “I don’t like your snark, Maud Pie.”

Her friend took a second to absorb this. “Nor am I fond of being lied to twice.”

“Okay,” Starlight snorted, “I walked into that one. But its your current snark that I'm not a fan of." 

“I’m being serious, though. You’re worrying me, Starlight.”

‘You’re worrying me.’ Maud actually said that, out loud, not even caring about the other shoppers who might be listening in. She really wasn't giving that a thought right now. 

Starlight fought the writhing in her chest. It was just a feeling, she couldn't get lost in those now. Maud was just being sensitive, too. She couldn't forget that. Ease her worries, Starlight. Don't let her worry about you. 

“I promise you, I’m not lying. Maud, I swear that I’m totally fine. See? Look into my eyes, I am!” And Starlight gazed wide-eyed into Maud’s hooded stare, held it a moment, then pulled back. “Now I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop interrogating me, and presuming that I'm not alright because of what you 'observe.' There's a lot you can't glean from a pony on the outset, after all. You should know that, better than anypony I imagine.”

Maud opened her mouth immediately, held it, then pressed her lips together. For a moment, Starlight feared she'd gone too far somewhere along the line. “I only asked if you were okay," said Maud. 

All the tightness in Starlight’s muscles loosened up with a sigh. Don't forget, she's only being a good friend. Don't be short with her. “Right.” Starlight felt her ears wilt. “I’m sorry for snapping. Things have been a little tense lately.”

“I understand.” Her lips were slightly parted, as though about to say more. “It’s okay. How have you been otherwise?” she uttered, stiffer than usual.

She didn’t even ask how it happened. Did Maud just not care? Well… that was good. Great, actually! Because... because Starlight didn’t either! In fact, one of the first lines drawn about their friendship was to avoid talking about each other's feelings—something Starlight was more than happy to oblige right now, to keep things simple. But does she even care about what happened to me? Starlight wondered anyway. Maud didn’t ask, so clearly, she… might… not? 

And that was totally fine. Preferred, actually! Maud actually respected Starlight’s privacy, unlike Spike. And she didn’t doubt her strength right out of the gate as Twilight had. Or rather, like Twilight faked. Probably. 

What a mess this all was. 

“Starlight.”

“Sorry, what?” she said, laughing to conceal her own embarrassment.

“Did you hear nothing that I said?” asked Maud.

Starlight dropped her smile. “Um, no. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I didn’t actually say anything.”

That was smirk-worthy. “Thanks for the heart attack, Maud.”

Typically she would respond with something like, ‘Anytime,’ yet Maud just stared. And stared. And stared. And then finally, she said, “Are you sure you’re—”

“Fine.” She’s just concerned. Starlight exhaled, then calmly continued, “I'm fine. Don't... Just don't worry about me, please." Maud blinked, waiting. That's right, she asked how Starlight was. "And aside from the obvious, you didn’t miss much. You know how it is: another week, another national crisis narrowly averted.” Maud blinked; what in Equestria was up with her today? “Um, hey, you wanna grab lunch? Catch up?”

Maud just stared instead of happily taking up the offer to hang out with her friend. She doesn’t even want to spend time with me. Did Starlight actually make her perpetually-calm friend angry? That was possible? The base of Starlight’s horn tingled as though electrocuted. She smiled despite it. 

Maud gazed half-lidded at her all the while. And then she said, “Only if you’ll tell me how this happened.” Her gaze flickered to Starlight’s forehead, who promptly ignored that and fought the heat of shame creeping up her neck. 

She was more relieved to have the chance to explain herself. “It’s a deal!”



“So, you know how Twilight and I have magic practice on Sundays? Oh,” laughed Starlight, “wait, I’d said that before, didn’t I? Well, that isn’t happening anymore, for obvious reasons! So, I feel like we should seriously consider, oh, revolutionizing our friendship. You know? Establish it on something equally as deep and complex as the arcana, and just as impressive as my magic was. Something like...” Neither her once-bitten hayburger, nor Maud’s clean plate, yielded any suggestions. "Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll think of something later. But It needs to be something we can compete at, too! Something that I can get better at. Horn or no, I have to continue impressing Twilight and prove that I’m more than just some pony living in her castle, eating her food and—” She shook her head in disgust. “We had a real bond over that, you know. Magic practice. That's the point of this word vomit here. And it wasn't just because we were both good at magic. It was this… connection we had, I guess. Like, we were so equal in power, either one of us could pop someplace in Equestria, and the other could, like, sense one another’s magic and slingshot over in a second! ...But now that that’s gone,” Starlight sighed, “we need an equivalent substitute to replace it. One that’s not only fun, but special, too. But I stayed up almost all night thinking about this and yet…”

A familiar dissatisfaction tried to worm its way in. I’m not selfish, Starlight reminded herself. I’m not selfish for wanting this. I don’t need my magic. I can live differently from my old life. 

“There’s nothing else we’ve really bonded over," she admitted, finding the courage to do so. “Not as strongly, at least. Know what I mean?”

Across the table of crimson plastic, Maud’s straw popped from her mouth with a gentle pop. “I do. I think you're overthinking it. Pinkie and I are close as two friends can be, and we have virtually nothing in common.” She took her cup in both hooves and squeezed, popping the lid off. “Barring our penchant for comedy.” She removed her lid by the straw impaling it.

“But you’re also sisters," Starlight pointed out. "These things don't necessarily equate."

With a single beat, at least a dozen ice cubes poured into her friend’s mouth. “That doesn’t matter,” she said, somehow clearly with blocky, bulging cheeks. 

Somehow, that wasn’t the most confusing thing hitting Starlight at the moment. “Um, yeah, it kinda does.”

Maud shattered the ice with a single chomp. “No, it doesn’t,” she insisted, then swallowed her icy mouthful. “Twilight cares about you. You’ll find new things to bond over. It won’t be magic, but it could still be fun.”

It won’t be magic. It shouldn’t have hurt, yet that hurt more than her aching forehead. “I suppose.” She hated how dejected she’d sounded, and for bothering her friend with all this. “Maud, I’m sorry for dumping my problems on you.”

“It’s okay. I mean it.”

“No, it’s not! Were those the first words to come out of your mouth since sitting down? Tch, my hero,” crooned Starlight. “Thanks for stopping me from babbling like a loony.”

“Except this is literally how all our conversations go. Even the loony part," Maud added with a smirk.  

Starlight needed to only glance back at their time together, trying to recall any time Maud had carried a conversation. “Right.”

“Or did you forget that, too?”

Starlight’s heart skipped a beat: Maud just snapped. Even with zero emotion, she knew Maud well enough to know she seldom wasted her breath. But emotional outbursts were unheard of altogether, at least as far as their interactions went. It left Starlight totally dumbfounded. 

“Sorry,” said Maud, glancing at her plate. “I’m just concerned.”

Calming, Starlight smiled reassuringly. “Maud, you’re sweet, but you’ve got nothing to worry about. Twilight and I’ll find something else to bond over, just like you said.” That isn't magic. She laughed over such intrusive thoughts. “I’ve just been up in my head, as per usual! No big deal... So, forget about my rambling, please. It's nothing to worry about.”

Maud blinked, as though surprised that Starlight didn’t collapse into another long ramble. “I am concerned about you," she said. 

Of course, she was. Obviously, she was. How could Maud not be? Starlight grinned despite her internal howling. “Maud,” she laughed, "are we still on about my horn? I told you already, I’m fine!”

“Eight times since the market, to be exact.”

And suddenly all of Hayburger was afire. Or it sure as heck felt that way! “O-oh?” Starlight fanned a pathetic gust her way. “You’re right, I’m sorry, I just—”

“You assumed that I was referring to your horn, also,” Maud continued, words as piercing as her stare. “You talk a lot, Starlight. But this is the first conversation we’ve had where you didn’t just talk. You noised.” 

That... was funny. Just a joke, that's all this was. The moment a chuckle bubbled up Starlight's throat, bringing with it a smile, Maud burst with a flat, “I’m serious." Her tone didn't so much as hint otherwise, overwhelming the low murmurings of Hayburger. "You were saying words as though to fill a silence. I couldn’t have replied if I wanted to.”

“And,” Starlight paused, afraid to hear the answer, “did you want to say something?”

Maud gave a stare. “Not the point. You aren’t ‘fine.’ That much is clear”

Starlight’s mouth opened, as if she actually had a defense at this point. But she basically just spilled everything that deeply scared her to Maud. Even if she could dismiss them all as mere gabbing, which it totally was, there's no way a sensible pony like her would buy it. And... and she’d just finished a grueling two weeks at Ghastly Gorge! Two weeks of nonstop work and research, and she comes home to this? 

"Maud, I'm so sorry." 

"You've nothing to be sorry for." 

"But I do," Starlight cried. She'd dropped all her problems without any consideration for other ponies once again. Maud was only tolerating this out of kindness. "I could've gone about this differently. Smartly. But instead, you had to take the brunt of my nonsense and I didn't once consider how you'd feel." 

I’m not selfish, she recited. But Starlight was foolish, thoughtless, certainly reactive…

“Is that why you didn’t find me?” 

Starlight blinked. “S-Sorry?” Since when did Maud start asking questions unprovoked?

“You knew where I was,” she clarified. “But I never knew what'd happened until now. Not from Twilight, nor you. I would have listened. You know that. So why didn't you find me, if not for that?" 

'If not because you forgot to consider me,' Maud asked, but didn't say. 

It was more blame, more guilt. Starlight didn’t want a scrap of it. This was not her fault! “You told me before coming in here, that you knew what'd happened to Twilight already.” Starlight remembered how relieved she’d felt, having evaded reliving those horrific memories once again upon Maud telling her she was up to speed. 

“Through Pinkie Pie,” her friend snarled, probably. “But never you. No letter. Not a word from you until the market.” Her eyes flickered up at last. “Why didn’t you remember me?”

Starlight felt everything, time, the world around her, even her very breathing, all grind to a halt.

Maudileena Daisy Pie was certainly a pony worth respecting. She didn’t dance around the point with pretty words or soften her opinion. Maud just went and made it, giving a hearty ‘To Tartarus!’ to anypony who’d feel put off by her bluntness.

Now was no different: ‘Why didn’t you remember me?’ 

‘Why didn’t you…?’

It was bad enough that Maud was clearly so hurt by this. Even worse that, amidst all of the panic, Starlight truly had forgotten about her other friends. Maud. Trixie. Even Sunburst. Heck, she forgot to take any of their feelings about this decision into account, even the one she was saving! What did that say about Starlight? 

I’m such a bad friend, she realized, and Maud knew it. She’d known for the last two weeks, amidst every hour, with every clang of the pickaxe. Knowing the horror going on in Ponyville, she probably wondered every moment, ‘Why haven’t I heard from Starlight?’

‘Why…?’

“Maud, gosh, I didn’t forget you. Not in the way that you think!”

“That’s reassuring.” Her monotone dripped with hypothetical sarcasm.

“Dang it, Maud, you know what I mean!” Silence fell on Hayburger like the gavel of a judge. The stares of one could be felt from every corner, burning a hole in Starlight’s forehead she only now realized was uncovered. Let them look. She didn’t care. She totally didn’t care. She never will. “I didn't forget you like… like that. Like I didn't even care,” she hissed, glancing at the ponies sidelonging them from across the joint. "I'd never up and forget all about you. You know that." 

“Really?”

Starlight couldn’t tell if Maud was being hopeful or sarcastic. “You tell me,” she challenged with a smirk. “You’re one of my closest friends, Maud. I don’t think a day’s passed where you didn’t cross my mind.” Though untrue in the context of this rather stressful ordeal, Starlight hoped that, behind her placid gaze, out of everything she herself had bared in this terrible restaurant, that Maud believed this much. “A lot was happening at the time. That's all. My mind was just a bit... preoccupied.” 

Great excuse. One thing was happening, and you just never spared your friends another thought. Not Trixie, nor Sunburst. Great friend, Starlight! Maud let that soak in, as if knowing what was stopping Starlight's heart this very moment. Shame gradually killed her smile. I did not just peddle that lame excuse. It'd be more honest if I said nothing else mattered at the time. 

Again, what in Equestria did that say about Starlight?

"So you did forget about me.” Maud’s gaze was as flat as her voice, though her hurt was painfully clear. ‘You forgot about me,’ it said, ‘because I’m too boring to be remembered.’ But she was not. Sweet Celestia, she was not! Yet Starlight made her feel that way. Both had always been quick to assume what other ponies thought of them; something else they shared. "Need I ask why?" she wondered. 

"No!" Starlight reached to comfort the grey hoof across from her. "I mean... Maud, that isn't it at all.”

Maud didn’t move a muscle, not even her hoof. “That’s what it sounds like, though," she said, as if stating a fact. “Starlight, listen." The rare, monotone utterance of her name brought her eyes to Maud’s, half-mast and... glimmering? Or was that the light? Definitely the light, little more than wishful thinking on Starlight's part. “There is clearly something wrong. Nothing’s ‘fine.’ I don't think this is normal for you.”

This was payback, wasn’t it? She saw the obvious, but not the message Starlight was trying to convey. “Maud, please, can we just not talk about this?” It hurts too much, taking your time. The thought of it, of talking about how painful the market was, the one piece of the last twenty-four hours she'd kept from Maud... 

“But you just did. For five minutes straight," she insisted. 

Starlight’s face burned. Maud wasn't going to drop this. “Will you back off?" she snapped. 

“You’re causing a scene.”

“Because I don’t want to talk about my horn!”

“Actually, I only said that—”

“I know—what you said,” growled Starlight. “I know you think I’m not ‘fine.’ That I’m ‘upset’ right now because of my horn." 

“And why would you assume that?”

“Because everypony has so far! Everypony will!” Even as she corrected herself once, Starlight was urged to reconsider her words. "You're all pressuring me, wanting me to feel bad, when I don't want it! You think you know better than I know myself, which isn't just wrong, it's downright annoying." 

“I wonder why that is,” Maud wondered sarcastically.

“Because they know I miss my magic!” Starlight froze, struck with shock. She cursed inside her head. 

“Bingo,” muttered Maud.

“T-that came out wrong." She only got a stare in turn. "Don’t breathe a word of this to Twilight. In fact, don’t even bother considering it! Because... I was just flustered, and, the heat of the moment—!”

And Maud blinked.

“Stop looking at me like that!”

“Okay. Should I turn around?”

“Quit being a jack, you know what I mean!”

“No, Starlight, I actually don’t—” A scoff cut her off. 

Maud and Starlight turned to where Carrot Top was storming through the double doors, and a grumpy Tootsie Flute escorted by the scruff of her neck.

The filly grumbled, “I only asked what a—” she was muffled by the door, “—jack was.”

Starlight blushed. She could feel herself smoldering underneath Hayburger’s collective stare. This was going to be all over town in no time. What a graceful display from Princess Twilight's former student. 

“We should go back to my place.”

‘Should.’ Before I make a further jack of myself. Starlight couldn't stop her anger from erupting in force. “See?! This is what I mean! I know you’re embarrassed by me. You’re judging me right now! I can tell.”

“And what is my judgement?” 

As if she didn’t know already! “Oh, only that you’re presuming I’m not okay.”

“I’m not presuming anything.”

“You thought I forgot about you!”

“Because you did.”

Starlight wanted to scream. “Not because you're boring! Just stop. Stop interpreting it that way, okay?! I told you that you were wrong, yet you insist that you're not! It's really getting on my nerves.”

“Stop. Yelling. At. Me.” Maud set her hooves upon the table. “I don’t trust your judgement right now. You insist you’re happy to have lost your magic with the worst straight face I’d ever seen. And I’m sisters with Pinkie Pie.” Starlight felt pummeled in the chest; for her foolishness, for her behavior, for embarrassing Maud and Twilight. This mare's bluntness will never come so close to encapsulating ‘brutal honesty’ ever again. “I don’t believe you for a second, Starlight. Nopony will.”

I’ve been so transparent, haven’t I? And if Maud noticed, then that means Twilight really must have… Spike was... 

No. She really was just humoring Starlight yesterday. No. Twilight sat there, smiling, pretending to fall for Starlight’s weak attempts at pretending she was fine with this. With any of it. No! She knew, no, suspected that Starlight despised this trade and its awful repercussions. And Fizzlepop clearly didn’t want to deal with it. Everypony had better things to do, yet Twilight was probably back home, worrying at this very moment when she had no reason to at all!

“I’ll... get used to it over time.” A moment passed before Starlight realized she’d said those words aloud. “I-I know I will, M-Maud." Her clean plate was something to admire, so incredibly spotless. "Everypony’s concerned, and that's sweet. And it’s not like I believe I don’t deserve it, or anything self-pitying like that.” Maud’s silence urged her to continue. “But it’s just… between my past and all those mistakes, I’ve always bounced back, sooner or later. I’ve always managed it on me own, at my own pace. This time won’t be any different, it shouldn't be. It doesn't need to be! And you all need to understand that. You need to respect it.”

Movement in her peripherals brought her gaze to Maud’s brows, having risen ever so slightly. She took a deep breath. “I understand all of that. You are strong.” And she reached toward Starlight. Something gently bumped against her hoof and heart. “You’re one of the strongest ponies I know, but you are full of silica-rich magma. Sooner or later your facade is going to crack, all that pressure building up inside you is going to erupt in our faces, and it’s going to burn everyone.”

“Pretty words.” Maud had always been proud of her rock poetry. “But your fears are misplaced. Sure, I miss the conveniences of having magic, but I’ll acclimate to that change, too.”

“You’re still denying the fact that you miss your magic, when it is very clear you do.”

Starlight gulped; she couldn’t outright lie about this, not to Maud. "A-and even if I was, what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing.”

‘You’re so selfish…’ whispered dream-Twilight, whispered the horrible truth. She gave it up so Twilight could live, if she regretted that then she regretted her choice! “No! It’s completely, morally wrong! It’s terrible!” 

‘You’re so selfish!’ 

“I’m terrible!”

“Stop. No you’re not.”

“No… I’m not. I'm not,” Starlight murmured, shaking, hugging herself. She watched Maud's hoof retreat as her heart raced, thumped at speeds a drummer couldn’t compete with. "I’m not terrible,” she reaffirmed, gently, in case her friend still suspected fibbing. “You wanna know why, Maud? It’s because I did everything, all this?" Starlight gestured to her forehead. “I did it all for a friend. I didn’t care about what Hydia had to take from me. And looking back, I still don’t. Nothing, and I mean nothing, was more important than saving Twilight. I’d do it again, I swear on my life I would.”

Hayburger’s fryers sizzled away in the kitchen. Other than that, not a sound filled the crowded Hayburger as Maud’s eyes widened completely. It was as if understanding, the gravity of what this meant for Starlight, dawned on her at last. 

“What?” Maud blurted out. “Anything?”

Starlight tilted her head. Was this a trick question? If she said ‘yes’ would Maud call her a crazy lunatic like Spike and probably Twilight and maybe even Tempest thought she was? Except, Starlight would totally give up anything to save Twilight again… Except, she didn’t know what she was losing at the time, nor again. It could have been something twisted, like Twilight herself.

Starlight didn’t know what she'd do if the price was somepony else. The idea was bone-chilling. But she couldn’t say ‘No,’ that would be a lie, and prove that Starlight was a selfish friend.

The best she could say in this position was, “Um… maybe?” 

Maud just stared. Starlight felt her brow moisten. “By hesitating to answer,” said Maud, “you indirectly prove you weren’t thinking. You were panicking.”

“Look, the witches didn’t even tell me what I was giving up!” Starlight exclaimed, throwing her hooves in the air. “They only vaguely hinted at my most prized possessions.”

“Oh, this is getting better.”

“What?” Maud had some nerve, treating this like it was a domino effect of one terrible decision enacting another. “What?! Tell me what I was doing wrong this time, Maud.”

“Nothing, unless you never considered your own life might be forfeit.”

“Obviously, I did!” The thought had crossed her mind, then. It would cross anyone’s mind, but that didn't matter to her when somepony else was on the line! “I wondered this, like, half a hundred times! And every time I wondered, I looked inside myself, asking, ‘Is this right? Can I do this?’ And you wanna know how I felt?” Maud’s lips were parted open. Starlight forced the welling sensation away from her eyes, leaned forward, smirking like the slimy little pony she was. “I felt fine. I felt good. I felt like I could really do this, let go of my own fears in order to help a friend who did the very same for me!” Starlight wiped her stupid, overly emotional tears away. “And I did it. I repaid my debt. And you know what? If I had to lose it all in order to save another friend’s life, I’d accept it without hesitation!” 

A soft whistle somewhere in the restaurant was followed by a nasally-voiced colt whispering, “Wait ‘till the class hears about this, this's nuts!”

Oh, gosh. Starlight’s insides iced over completely. I’d completely forgotten we’re surrounded by ponies! 

Her ears burned like they were afire. She almost missed the utterance of, “You are such a jerk.”

“Wha—?” Starlight half-gasped, half-shrieked, for Maud’s gaze truly glimmered neath the sunlight splashed across her face.

“You’re a jerk,” she clarified, even stiffer than usual. “You actually think Twilight would be happy to hear all this. You're amazing, Starlight. But you're also a thoughtless jerk.”

Starlight’s heart pounded in her chest. Maud’s upset. What had she done wrong? I upset Maud. Why was Maud angry with her?! Because I’m being selfish again. I was. I always am.

“Well?” Maud ‘exclaimed.’

The slight rise in tone made Starlight jump, nothing more. “I—no,” she stammered. "I don't know. I'm sorry, okay? I don't know what I did wrong," she lied, "but I'm sorry." 

Maud asked very slowly, “Do you understand why she—”

“Yes, I do, okay?!” Starlight shrieked. “And guess what, she has no right to control what I want to do with my life! I do. And nopony can tell me what it is and isn’t worth, neither. So whatever you’re about to snark at me with your snarky-snark, you can just go and cram it!”

Silence, as Maud's mouth staggered shut. “So the ponies who care about you, they don’t even matter?” Though her voice was flat, Maud’s eyes shimmered, trembling in time with her words. Starlight felt her insides were gouged out. It hurt, and it scared her. This all scared her. She was never expecting this, despite Spike's warnings. Twilight must feel the very same, and Starlight never once considered how she would feel. How any of them would feel. 

"Well I'm sorry I didn't consider the feelings of every pony under the sun!" Starlight sneered, lashing back against her terror, her mistakes. "Because in case you hadn't noticed, Maud, Twilight was wheezing her last breaths while everypony else was having the time of their lives! But that's fine. I should have just joined them, stood by, and let my best friend die!"

Her voice rang in the vastness of Hayburger.

With parted lips, Maud searched Starlight's face, her eyes flitting faster and faster. A slight rise of her breast quickened within seconds. "I can't argue with you right now." 

And just like that, Maud hopped out the booth, back turned to Starlight with a flick of the tail. “Bye, Starlight. I’ll see you when you get your head out of your rear-end and you can talk to me like a normal pony.”

'Normal' bucked her right in the gut as she watched Maud walk out the door.

Starlight sat there, stricken for but a moment before tearing out the booth and galloping after her. "Maud, wait!” Starlight crashed through the double dinging doors. “Please!” Her friend actually halted, waiting for Starlight to fight and steady her breath. “I still," she gasped, "don't understand," she sighed, "what the problem is! Please," Starlight wheezed, “I just wanna understand, what I did wrong…” She knew though. It was obvious, Starlight didn't know why she was asking. 

She just wanted to make sure. Make sure she wasn't crazy. That somepony else thought just as she did, and she wasn't just assuming nonsense like always.

But Maud didn’t turn around. She didn’t even move. Nor did she take a breath in the three seconds it took for her to say something.

"Follow me, and you'll be eating bedrock for dinner, Starlight."

And Maud Pie left her.

‘You actually think Twilight would be happy to hear all this…’  It was no wonder Twilight was acting so emotional. And I didn’t even notice. Starlight’s insides quivered as she collapsed on her rear, watching her once-friend become more and more distant. I’ve got problems.

Spike was hurt because of her. He was outright dismissed by Twilight because for her, deep down, that was preferable to entertaining the truth. That Starlight had, indeed, sacrificed her precious magic to save Twilight’s life. No way would she be happy to accept this, not at all. 

She didn't just lack a single thought for how Twilight might feel about all this. Even when she was content with losing her own life, she barely gave those close to her a second thought.

I am selfish. And now Maud...

She didn't want to think about it, for if Maud could see through Starlight, reacted this way, then one of the smartest modern ponies in Equestria surely had as well. It might be too late to salvage any of this, and Starlight had no one to blame but herself.