//------------------------------// // Unforgettable // Story: Forget and Forgive // by elPossenreisser //------------------------------// The cookie was gone. Starlight Glimmer frowned at the vast emptiness in her private cookie jar—where as she was absolutely certain just one last triple-choc pecan cookie had been resting in all its glory, waiting to be devoured by her. And now it was gone. Starlight frowned at the empty cookie jar as if she could will the missing cookie back into existence, but of course that didn’t work. Because it didn’t exist anymore. Because somepony ate it. Wondering who could have committed such a heinous crime she put the cookie jar back on her desk. She was confident that Twilight would never do such a thing, and Spike, even though he definitely enjoyed his sweets, would probably not just enter her room—for his young age he was surprisingly respectful. Trixie, maybe? Her fillyfriend was the only pony who even came into her room, but they had spent the last two nights in Trixie’s cart, which she had set up in the castle’s front yard. She probably couldn’t rule out the possibility that she had eaten it herself, and then forgotten about it. Although she was usually very good at remembering details. Especially cookie-related details. Starlight sighed. It wasn’t that big a deal, really. All she needed to do was to go to Sugarcube Corner and get another one. Maybe after her reading assignment. She sighed again. She’d get a whole bag of cookies as a reward for her diligent studying. But first, tea. It was one of those many little habits she had picked up from Twilight—reading just went better with a nice hot cup of tea. Twilight, adorkable as ever, had even shown Starlight statistics detailling how much more information she retained depending on what kind of tea she drank while reading. Starlight left her room and made way to the castle’s kitchen. Down there, she found Spike, who was busying himself with a big bowl of dough. “Good morning, Spike! What are you baking?” “Just some cookies,” Spike replied. “Just come back in an hour or so if you want some.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And better don’t be too late, or else there won’t be any left, courtesy of a certain princess.” Starlight chuckled. “Thanks, I’ll try to remember.” She hesitated. Should she really suspect Spike like this? Pushing her doubts aside, she nonchalantly continued, “I’ve had quite the cookie incident this morning, actually. I was sure I had a triple-choc pecan cookie left in my cookie jar, but apparently I was wrong.” She closely watched Spike’s expression as he replied. Just to be sure. Spike gave her a sympathetic grin. “Oh wow, that’s just the worst, isn’t it? You’re so looking forward to that cookie and then it’s gone and—why are you looking at me like this?” “Um—“ “Starlight, you don’t actually think I took your cookie, do you?” When Starlight just kept looking at Spike, the young dragon huffed and continued, “Just so you know, I’m allergic to pecan. It makes my spikes turn orange, and that’s just not a pretty sight. Besides I’d never sneak into your room where you sometimes have your lace stockings lying around and—“ His expression fell. “Um, I mean, invade your privacy. Is what. I’d never do. Can we, um—“ Starlight glared at him for several seconds. Then she sighed and pressed her hoof against her forehead, trying to focus on the important part—that at least Spike hadn’t taken her cookie. “This conversation never happened,” she said. “And if you ever sneak into my room and so much as look at my stockings I’m going to turn you into sludge. Orange sludge. Are we clear?” Spike swallowed hard and nodded. Then, forcing himself to smile, he said, “So, remember, cookies will be done in an hour! I’ll make sure to keep some safe for you, because we’re such good friends, right?” “Thanks, Spike.” Starlight turned to the cupboard for a tea cup, refusing to think about the implications of what Spike had just revealed. If she didn’t think about it, it wasn’t true, she kept telling herself. At least there would be cookies. With only an hour until cookie time she made haste to prepare her tea, impatiently using her magic to fan the stove’s fire. Hovering the tea cup next to her she hurried back upstairs to her room where her current reading assignment, The psychology of sharing, was waiting for her. Sometimes, Starlight mused, the thoroughly academic approach of her mentor was a bit too much for her liking. Then again, she wasn’t about to disappoint Twilight, not after all she had done for her. Back in her room she placed the cup on her desk, sat down in her chair, and reached for the book—only that the book wasn’t there. Starlight looked around, just to make sure, but it wasn’t anywhere, not on the shelf, not on her nightstand, not even—a remote possibility since sometimes she fell asleep over her reading—in her bed hidden under the blanket. Had she maybe taken the book elsewhere, maybe to read in the calm and inspiring environment of the library, and then left it there? Again, she didn’t remember doing any such thing, but since the book was definitely not here she couldn’t rule it out. Still, this sudden drop in her cognitive abilities was at least slightly alarming. While she was nowhere near as organized as Twilight, she didn’t usually forget where she had left her things. Or that she had eaten a cookie, for that matter. With a sigh she left her room and trotted downstairs again, this time heading for the library—a pretty reasonable place to search for a book, she thought. When she entered the library she wasn’t surprised to find Twilight sitting in her second-favorite reading sofa and casually levitating three different tomes in front of her face. The princess lowered a tome to peek over it and smiled at her. “Hello, Starlight Glimmer! Are you going to join me for some light reading?” Glimpsing at the titles of Twilight’s books—something about quantum physics and chocolate milk—Starlight grinned. “Light reading, sure. No, I’m looking for a book.” “Well, the library is definitely the right place for that,” Twilight said and chuckled at her witty remark. Starlight grinned—and fought the urge to facehoof. “Actually, I think I’ve left The psychology of sharing somewhere, and I thought it might be here.” “Oh.” Twilight looked surprised. “I thought you’d finished that.” “Not that I remember…” Starlight said. “Let’s see.” Without dropping her three tomes Twilight levitated forth a scroll from somewhere behind the sofa. “Hmm, it’s checked off in the lending list, so you must have returned it.” “But I didn’t…” Another scroll floated forth, and for a moment Twilight looked like a filly’s school project of an atomic model, only with tomes and scrolls circling her instead of electrons. “According to the assignment list you finished reading it, and we had the scheduled seventeen-minute discussion about it.” She beamed at Starlight. “You have finished your assignment! Good job, just in case I never told you that.” “But I haven’t!” Starlight replied more forcefully. “Yes you have,” Twilight replied, her radiant smile remaining in place. “It says so on the list.” “But if I have done it how come I don’t remember anything?” Twilight frowned. “That would mean we need to revisit your studying techniques to ensure you actually memorize the contents of the books you read. Maybe you need a different kind of tea to—“ “No, no, that’s not it!” Starlight interrupted her, growing more and more irritated by her mentor’s unflinching failure to understand her. “I don’t remember reading the book, or returning it, or discussing it with you, at all! I’m absolutely certain that never happened!” “But the list—“ Twilight’s ears drooped, and it looked like her lip started to quiver. “Twilight,” Starlight interrupted her before she could dive into a full-blown spiral of self-doubt, “do you remember discussing the book?” “Of course I—“ Twilight blinked twice and stared at her with wide eyes, the books and scrolls still levitating around her head like an aura of literature. “I don’t, do I?” “Because we never did it!” “But the list—“ “We never did it!” “But the list!” “Screw the list!” Twilight sharply inhaled in shock, and the books and scrolls fell out of mid-air and onto the sofa as she lost control of her levitation spell. “Starlight Glimmer, that’s uncalled for! Take that back!” “Twilight, don’t you think—“ “Please take it back, Starlight,” Twilight softly requested. “But—“ Seeing the uncompromising expression on Twilight’s face, Starlight decided that giving in would be the wiser course of action if she actually wanted to get through to her. “I’m sorry I said that. The list is great!” Twilight huffed, and Starlight hurried to continue, “But don’t you think something is off here? The list claims we’ve had a discussion about a book that we both don’t remember at all?” “Then maybe we’re not remembering it correctly? Maybe our memories…” Twilight trailed off, and suddenly a terrible suspicion struck Starlight. The book. The discussion. The cookie! “Maybe our memories have been erased!” she blurted out “An oblivion spell?” Twilight said. “That’s some advanced and dangerous magic! Why should anypony cast such a spell on both of us? And who would even be able to?” Starlight’s mind raced. She knew Twilight well enough by now to know how to deliver the final blow. “So far it is the only hypothesis that explains everything that has happened—the book, and the triple-choc pecan cookie as well. I think we really have no choice but to at least consider it.” “What does a cookie have to do with anything?” Twilight asked, confused. Again Starlight fought the urge to facehoof. Way to blow her final blow! Instead she quickly explained the mystery of the disappeared cookie. “And if you take all that into account, the only possible explanations are that either the list is wrong, which, as you said, is preposterous—or an oblivion spell.” Twilight rubbed her chin. “I have to say, it would be a possible explanation.” “So let’s do something about it! There has to be an un-oblivion spell, right?” “But that’s very powerful and dangerous magic!” Twilight objected. Starlight wasn’t going to let her plan of action be spoiled by worries about supposed dangers. “But isn’t it like this,” she said, “either we have been subjected to an oblivion spell—in that case we must learn why, how, and by whom! Or we haven’t, in which case the spell won’t affect us at all, since we haven’t forgotten anything in the first place.” “You’re raising a valid point,” Twilight was forced to admit. “I’m not too happy about the possibility of somepony casting that kind of spell on us. So, in this case…” “Thought so,” Starlight said and cast a spell. A tome launched itself from its place on a high-up shelf and came darting through the room, aiming right for Twilight’s head. Starlight yelped and leapt at the princess, pinning her onto the sofa just in time as the tome zoomed over both their heads. Twilight looked at her in surprise and blushed slightly, which Starlight found unexpected—at least until she realized her position, lying on top of Twilight, their snouts almost touching. “Um, Starlight—?” “Sorry!” Starlight hurried to get off the princess and picked up the book she had so recklessly summoned. “What was that?” Twilight asked, sitting up. “A book browsing and retrieval spell I made up. Honestly, Dewey Decimal is a spawn of Tartarus!” Starlight replied absentmindedly while leafing through the book. “Aha! There! Forgall, a spell to make the target forget everything during the timespan specified by the parameters. And here, Remembrall. Restores magically erased memories for the timespan specified by the parameters. Looks like exactly what we need.” “Starlight, shouldn’t we at least—“ Starlight cast the spell on herself without waiting to hear any further objections. The beam of magic arced back from her horn and hit her right in the forehead. The library, the sofa, and Twilight faded out of existence as she relived her lost memories in a rapid succession of images. The memories spanned the entirety of the previous day, but when she came to again, Starlight was aware that only a short period of time had passed, probably not even five minutes. Twilight’s face was right in front of hers, her expression full of worry at her sudden blackout, and Starlight hurried to say something to assert her that everything was okay. “Oh fiddlesticks!” “Starlight?” She felt Twilight’s hooves steadying her; apparently she had also dropped to the floor when the spell had hit her. “Starlight, are you alright?” “Fiddlesticks, fiddlesticks, fiddlesticks!” “Starlight, talk to me!” Twilight nuzzled Starlight’s cheek, and Starlight hastily backed away from the contact. She looked at Twilight, very aware of the princess’ physical closeness—painfully aware, even. There was no way she would be able to deal with this. Not alone, at least. Probably not at all. Perhaps the only solution was for her to explode into a shower of colorful sparks and— Starlight bit her tongue to stop the approaching panic attack, and took a deep breath. If she was going to get through this, she needed Twilight’s support, and for that, Twilight too needed to remember. “I’m sorry, Twilight,” she whispered, and cast the spell on her. As the magic hit her head, the princess fell back and collapsed on the floor. It didn’t even take her half a minute to regain her consciousness, and when she stared at Starlight this time, her eyes were wide with terror. “Oh fiddlesticks indeed,” she agreed in a shaky voice. *** It felt like an eternity or two had passed. Starlight and Twilight were lying on the library floor, staring at each other in shock. Despite Starlight’s best efforts she let her gaze wander over Twilight’s body as the magically removed memories washed over her. I can’t believe we did this. Her horn… Resolutely she pushed that particular thought away, cursing the heat that rose on her cheeks. “You… we…” Twilight stammered. Starlight just looked at her with a blank expression, and after a few more awkward moments—during which she had to muster up all her willpower in order to suppress most of the memories from last night—Twilight finally had collected herself enough to form a coherent sentence. “You cast the Forgall spell.” “Yep.” “And we…” “Don’t,” Starlight said softly when she realized the level of Twilight’s distress. “I’m sorry I made you go through this again. I kinda panicked when I remembered… and I cast the spell so I didn’t have to deal with everything alone. “We shouldn’t have to deal with that at all. I’m sorry. I’m just gonna cast the Forgall spell again on us and make it go away, okay?” “And what about Trixie?” “She doesn’t have to know,” Starlight flatly replied. “You want to lie to her? On top of—“ “Yes, Twi, I want to lie on top of her, that’s the whole point!” Starlight burst out. For a moment Twilight looked at her uncomprehendingly, then she facehoofed and shook her head. “That’s not what I mean! I meant…” Starlight groaned. “I know what you mean. I’m just trying to ignore it, okay?” “You can’t ignore it! We can’t ignore it!” “Yes, of course we can!” Starlight snapped. “Trixie wasn’t even in Ponyville anymore when… you know. The two of us are the only ponies who know, and with this,” she lifted up the spellbook in her magic, “with this we have the means to make sure that nopony knows, and then we can in fact ignore it! Forever!” “That’s exactly what you said yesterday,” Twilight deadpanned. “Yeah, and this time I’ll remember to not get suspicious about something that doesn’t line up about the past, and I’ll…” With a frustrated groan she buried her face in her hooves. She remembered the panicked conversation she and Twilight had had in the small hours of the night before just as well as the princess did. Twilight had a point. There was no way she could make herself—and Twilight too, for that matter—forget everything whilst making sure that they remembered not to get suspicious. It was really unfair! It had been such a good idea! Especially since it meant that she didn’t remember all the terrible things they had done… terrible, wonderful, ecstatic things… Resolutely she pushed the thought away. “Starlight,” Twilight whispered, putting her hoof over her withers. “It’s going to be okay, I—whoa!” In a flash of turquoise light Starlight vanished and reappeared in a nearby recliner, leaving a startled Twilight behind on the floor. “Twi, I appreciate the gesture, but that’s really not helping right now!” “… I guess not…” Starlight let out another exaggerated groan. “What in Tartarus am I supposed to do?” She didn’t add the other question that was going through her head: how was she going to live with what she had done? How she had betrayed Trixie? “You tell her,” Twilight said from her position on the floor. “I think I’ll pass,” Starlight replied. “Any other ideas?” “You know,” Twilight said, sounding irritated, “it’s not like I’m really excited to have this talk with Trixie, but she’s your fillyfriend, and she’s my friend too, and I think we owe it to her to be upfront about what happened.” “Me being the scum of Equestria, you mean.” “Starlight, could you drop the self-depreciation for a moment and discuss this rationally?” Twilight said. “Sulking isn’t going to fix anything!” “And how exactly is telling Trixie and causing her all this hurt going to help?” “At least it’s honest,” Twilight said. “Great,” Starlight groaned. “What’s the alternative, in your opinion?” “The rational thing,” Starlight shot back. “Keep it all bottled up forever, eventually forget it ever happened, and spare Trixie the news that I’m awful, so that we can live happily ever after. What else?” “Do you think that will work? Based on past experiences?” Twilight asked. Starlight could actually hear her raised eyebrow. “Do you think you can cut the snark?” Starlight snapped. “I’m trying to help you!” Twilight shouted. “And I’m trying to forget everything that has happened!” “And how is that working out for you?” “Just great, except for the part where it’s not working because I suck at magic! Augh!” Starlight teleported onto the sofa Twilight had been reading on—which incidentally wasn’t the one where everything had happened the night before—and buried her face in the cushions. “I can’t tell her! She’d hate my guts! And rightfully so…” “She deserves to know the truth,” Twilight said. “We both messed up, and the right thing to do is to confess and ask her for forgiveness. Or deal with it if she tells us to buck off.” “Which she will,” Starlight whined. “Which she absolutely should!” She sat up and faced Twilight who was still lying on the floor. “And what do you mean, we? I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m the one who cheated on my fillyfriend, not you.” “But I’m at fault here too! I was in on it!” Actually… “It’s not your relationship that’s on the line!” “So you rather want to keep it a secret forever—or rather, for as long as it takes for her to find out somehow?” Twilight asked. She caught Starlight’s gaze who saw the honest worry in Twilight’s eyes, and her affection. Even though she didn’t like what Twilight was saying—the princess was genuinely trying her best to help her. “I know it sucks, and I’m so sorry that you have to go through this, but it really is the right thing to do. Or rather, the only thing to do.” Starlight swallowed down the lump in her throat. Deep down inside she knew that Twilight was right, and that she was honestly trying to help her do the right thing. Of course she didn’t look forward to confessing to Trixie—and facing her inevitable reaction. “Is that to be considered official princessly advice?” Starlight asked. Twilight nodded. “You’re really annoying when you’re right,” she mumbled, admitting defeat. Twilight lowered her voice and said, “I bet I can atone for that.” When Starlight flinched back from her, she hastily asked, “Too soon?” “Yes! Way too soon! Gosh!” “Sorry,” Twilight said sheepishly. “Just trying to brighten up the mood.” “Please don’t.” Starlight idly poked her hoof at the sofa cushions. “I… should probably get it over with, right? She’s got a bit of a head start on me.” Twilight jumped to her hooves. “No. We should get it over with.” “It was me who betrayed mmpf!” Twilight covered Starlight’s mouth with her hoof. “She’s my friend, so I wronged her too. I would rather tell her myself. Okay?” Starlight nodded against her hoof, fighting back certain memories of that very hoof’s touch. “Okay, let’s go then!” Twilight freed Starlight’s mouth and offered her hoof to help her get up from the sofa. Starlight accepted and allowed her mentor to pull her to her hooves. “Twilight?” “Yeah?” “I’m scared out of my mind.” Twilight considered this for a moment. Then, in a measured voice, she replied, “I can say with almost absolute certainty that I too am scared out of my mind.”