//------------------------------// // III.Vl - Fear Itself // Story: The Broken Bond // by TheApexSovereign //------------------------------// “It is over, Starlight. Everything's fine… Please do not push me out again. It’s clear that you’re in desperate need of a friend.” In the three years since her redemption, three tenets had cemented themselves in Luna’s memory. Her “mental encyclopedia” of sorts, imprinted upon her soul and guiding her day-to-day choices. The first was, without a doubt, absolutely the most important. It was a promise whispered in the glow of Celestia’s setting sun, every evening in the first weeks of her return until it became chiseled in her heart, and she truly believed it: She was Princess Luna, Ruler of the Night, Protector of the Dream Realm... A Mother of Equestria. No matter what happened, no matter how she felt or how her subjects felt about her, whether she felt so guilty about Nightmare Moon it weighed her to her bed, or later, when she almost felt the Tantabus was too much… She was Luna. She was a Princess of Equestria. And she would let herself be cursed to Tartarus before mocking what that title stood for and allowing even a single one of her little ponies to suffer under her watch. Luna’s second tenet came as an indirect result of the first: communication is a weapon. She hated it, for a time. It couldn’t burn like a bolt of magic, nor was it always reliable. And if one were as terrible with it as Luna once was, perhaps they would find similar, personal reasons to detest the concept as well. In the week following her return, Luna wasted no time returning to her nightly duties. It quickly became apparent that ponies would have repeated nightmares, regardless of how many times Luna smote them. She had known why, of course. She always did. Dreams simply made sense to Luna. She knew why they happened, what made them work, and most of all, she knew how to help the dreamer combat them. But modern Equestria proved a greater challenge altogether. Needless to say, her Old Equestrian dialect made approaching subjects an… intense, internal affair. It was just so blunt and elaborate. It scared modern ponies off, or worse, made her as frightening as the nightmare she just vanquished. Luna couldn’t help herself though; she’d always been a slave to her emotions, and she got angry. Not at her subjects though, never them. But she quickly grew irritated at her inability to communicate with them, and it interfered with the first tenant as a result. Luna came to the conclusion that she could simply fight the nightmares whenever they would crop up. Of course it failed, as she ran herself ragged within her first week despite having much success. To this day, Luna insisted that taking care of so many dreams every night was a valiant effort. Though it was still folly. Celestia noticed, as she always did. And in the span of a single conversation, Luna realized just how mighty a weapon communication was. From then until this very day, ponies only suffered nightmares until Luna intervened. In every instance, she helped them banish their deepest fears the modern way. The right way. Luna would always mourn the loss of Old Equestrian, however. It was a beautiful tongue. The third tenet was, without a doubt, the most difficult to accept, especially when it often contradicted her first: everything happens for a reason. When she first arrived, Luna easily and thoughtlessly accepted her sister's philosophy. It was clear that Celestia’s current student was important if she and her friends bore the Elements of Harmony, especially when she carried the sigil of the Tree of Harmony as her cutie mark. Similar to how one would acknowledge the squawking of Canterlot nobles seriously, Luna absorbed the often-remarked platitude surrounding cutie marks like it was “old news,” as the foals say. But to actually stomach it when one’s entire soul fought it every step of the way? It was one of the hardest things Luna had done since returning home. Risking the fate of the Crystal Empire on a gamble, on a “this was meant to be,” had been so outrageous that Luna couldn’t even bring to herself to speak with the young Twilight. Allowing Lord Tirek to beat them was worse. By then, Twilight was now one of them, and Luna finally saw that Celestia’s wisdom was sharp as it ever was. With the Tree of Harmony making a move with that peculiar chest, Luna shared Celestia’s faith in Princess Twilight. Nay, despite a wounded ego, Luna relented to giving Tirek a frighteningly close victory after just one sparring match with Celestia. That didn’t mean she liked it. Not when it conflicted with her first tenet. Luna was a Princess of Equestria: a Mother, a Protector. What kind of a princess let their subjects be terrified? What kind of a parent stood by and let a monster hurt their children? She asked as much to her sister. During their one sparring match, Celestia proved how much she hated it, both to her and to probably the entire castle at the same time. Luna never questioned her sister’s love for Equestria after that. All three of these tenets ingrained themselves into “the modern Princess Luna,” as she discreetly referred to herself. They were simple. Straightforward and good. This new world made sense to Luna because of them, at least until today. She had a certain fondness for Starlight Glimmer. She was a Unicorn of great promise, both magically and morally. The Changeling affair proved to Luna that Starlight, too, was not only of paramount importance to the fate of Equestria, but one who was worthy of such status. Her nightmares around the time proved to Luna how similar they were to her own, once upon a time. Guilt seemed to be a common thread between reformed ponies, and young Starlight’s was extra potent. Honed. Aimed at the self. Luna recognized it better than most ponies would. Talking was the cure. Hurting oneself was not. In light of Twilight Sparkle’s destined path, it only made sense to see the timing of Starlight’s growth coincide with a pivotal moment in the Changelings’ history as something noteworthy. And Luna had Harmony to thank for directing Starlight toward Canterlot that one weekend. Because of her actions, any lingering rifts between Celestia and herself were fully mended, and their sisterly bond has been stronger ever since. Even today was some vague, intentional will of Harmony’s making. Luna’s third tenet screamed as much to her, writhing hard in her chest in resistance to doubt. Because never had she been called to the Dream Realm by day, to a very specific nightmare of a very specific pony, three times in succession. In addition to the night prior and this very dream, she had crossed paths with Starlight five times in a single weekend. But for what purpose? She faltered in her second tenet every time, with Starlight pushing her out and waking up. Until this dream, she’d been failing her first tenet . Luna’s doubts were banished before they could fester. She wouldn’t fail this time. This time would be different. This time, she could actually be of help. She wouldn’t allow herself to forget her first tenet: she’s Princess Luna. The Ruler of the Night. Starlight Glimmer was suffering. Luna only wanted it to stop—and, if she ever got the chance, to look Harmony in the eye and ask why this poor pony had to endure so much horror and heartbreak. What purpose did it all serve? Luna tried caressing her mane the way Celestia would, despite her inexperience with physical displays of affection. Luna’s forelegs soaked immediately as Starlight wailed into them, shaking, apologizing over and over in a tearful babble for some imagined crime. Luna only knew what she was saying because she’d repeated herself so many times. “It is over, Starlight,” Luna murmured behind her ear. “Everything's fine.” Starlight gulped, gasping on a sob. Her breathing was faint and tremulous. Whether she actually heeded Luna’s assurances were another matter entirely. She might be listening, but to her nothing’s “fine.” In her eyes nothing will ever “be fine” again. Luna felt a slight, distinct scratch upon her knee, and then a twisting inside of her. “Please do not push me out again." Luna squeezed the back of Starlight’s head. "It’s clear that you’re in desperate need of a friend.” The pony embracing her foreleg mumbled into it—a tiny sound, like a moan. She made it again and once more before finally mustering a voice strong enough to speak. “I‘m sorry Princess Luna,” she croaked, “I dunno what’s happening to me...  And… an’ all I’ve done, is push you away!” “Shh,” Luna hugged her tighter, nuzzling the top of Starlight’s head, behind her ear. “I only wish to help, my little pony. You will find no lingering animosity from me.” The poor pony’s scream rang hollowly in the crook of her foreleg before she tried gulping it down; Starlight gagged and coughed and tried pushing away but Luna held her tight. “Don’t you dare deny yourself this.” She hoped Starlight didn’t hear the quiver in her voice. “You’ve had this building within for too long. It must be let out. Let it out, Starlight.” And she did. Hard. Luna had to scrape to find a bright side of this. At least she isn’t outright denying my help this time. It already hurt to see one of her ponies in agony. But to find a strong mare like Starlight Glimmer reduced to such a mess by her own hoof was simply… heartbreaking. Soft, ragged panting signaled the depletion of her tears, and a million wounds still lingering open upon her soul. “You probably think that I’m an idiot…” “Enough of that!” implored Luna. “I would never think such a thing, Starlight Glimmer. You know in your heart that I wouldn’t.” “Ugh, I know, I’m sorry!” she snarled. Gently, as if handling a foal, Luna pushed herself away. “Do you really?” She bore into Starlight’s ruddy, runny gaze. “You are overwhelmed with fear, young one. Tis’ not healthy to contain so much of it. You risk letting it consume you.” Starlight barked. “And I haven’t already? I’ve damaged my relationship with Twilight because of this. And Maud. And maybe even Trixie, for all I know!” She was doing it again. “This is what I mean. You presume the very worst of your friends because fear rules your judgement. What you feel is not idiotic, Starlight Glimmer, but it is foolish nonetheless.” Well done, Princess. Deny a pony’s self-scathing insult, only to throw it back in her face a moment later? “Yeah, that’s me. The foolish pony who never learns.” Luna wilted. “Starlight—” “I should have known.” She started a deliberate pace to and fro. “I should’ve known that I was the problem.” “You are not a ‘problem,’ Starlight. You need only a little help.” “‘A little?’” she hooted. “I’m probably the first pony in history to save something and ruin it at the same time!” Luna swallowed, recalling the dreams she’d seen of the ponies closest to Starlight. Her heart went out to all of them. “Nothing is ruined,” she assured, “though if reparations are to be made, you have to confront the problem’s heart.” Starlight whirled on her with a scorching glare. “Oh, save the psychoanalysis, Princess!” She jammed a hoof at the black box sitting by her right. “You think I don’t know what that means?” “Star—” “Huh!?” Luna forced a smile. “Of course I do, Starlight. What I fear is you’re focusing on the wrong aspects of it.” Her glare shot up to the ceiling as she scoffed. “As if there was anything right about all this? You said it yourself, Princess Luna! I’m what’s happening to me. Me. Nopony else.” She snorted, a smile suddenly growing on her face. “Like the creepy puppet show meant something else...” It does. Despite every instinct screaming at her not to overstep boundaries, Luna was driven to kneel beside Starlight and close a wing around her. Her back muscles flinched as if trying to evade the affection. It was the only sign Luna needed. Beneath all her anger, fear and doubt plagued this pony’s heart. Luna took a breath— “I wanna be alone.” Starlight turned away from the Princess. “Please Princess, you don’t have to waste your time with this broken pony.” “I want to.” Starlight hadn’t released her tension since Luna touched her. “Heh, not for long! I promise, you’re gonna realize just how hopeless I really am before you leave.” “Is that a dare?” Luna gently accused, her gut swelling with pity. “Where is your unbendable confidence? Is today the day Starlight Glimmer revokes it because of some shadows on the walls?” “Check your admiration, Princess. My ‘confidence’ is what got me here in the first place. You wouldn’t understand.” “Beg pardon?” Luna reeled, visions of the Tantabus followed by Celestia’s tears—the second time Luna had ever seen them—flashed before her eyes. “Excuse me… I wouldn’t understand? You think I cannot empathize with what you’re feeling?” Like a scolded child, Starlight curled into herself. “I-I’m sorry, I d-didn’t mean—” “No!” Luna boomed in the Canterlot Royal Voice, thrumming the entire structure of Starlight’s dreamscape. “Starlight Glimmer, I demand that you banish any negative notions this instant! I am not angry, nor am I frustrated with you! I only want…” She took a breath. “I only want to help you,” she finished, quietly. Luna could not speak on behalf of any of Starlight’s friends, much as she wanted to. But she refused to let a second go by with this pony afraid of yet another friend. The look on Starlight’s face reminded Luna why she was not a “pony princess” like her cohorts. The two pinpricks in her eyes, rife with fear, made that abundantly clear. Celestia wouldn’t have done this. She would have been patient. Luna couldn’t stand the sight of it. “I am sorry for yelling,” she confessed. This pony’s ragged cries were still fresh in her mind. “And for not saving you sooner, Starlight. I wanted to! But instead I watched because—” “Because,” Starlight interrupted, gracing her with a sad, knowing smile. “Youuu wanted to know. What was wrong. With me,” she added with a scuff of the hoof. “I remember the naps I took at Sweet Apple Acres, Princess Luna—how I’d force myself awake whenever you started asking me things. I’m sorry for being so difficult when you’re just trying to do your job.” She still piles blame upon herself. But at least she isn’t resisting anymore. Luna’s smile finally came naturally. “There’s nothing to forgive, Starlight. ‘tis only natural for a pony of your ilk to resist any outside assistance. I was once the very same.” Luna patted her breast. “So, h-how’d you deal with it?” Starlight asked, her words laced with hope. Wistfulness made Luna light inside. “‘tis a story you will benefit from, I think. These days it serves as an important reminder about the magic of Friendship. But in the weeks following the ordeal, there was only regret, and shame—similar to the kind you feel now, for your controversial decision.” “You don’t even know the half of it,” Starlight, for whatever reason, tittered. “I can empathize. This, I regret as much as I do Nightmare Moon. And for the same reasons as well.” Celestia’s cries echoed in Luna’s memory, stabbing her where it always hurt. “What were they?” Starlight trotted closer, past Luna’s personal bubble. She huffed with a smile, forgetting her panging chest. Starlight was definitely cut from the same cloth as Twilight: curiosity overrode their worries like a mug of that “coffee” Celestia loves so much. Except fears were magically dispelled instead of exhaustion. Celestia… “I’ve inflicted terrible suffering upon my sister,” Luna explained. Shame tickled the back of her throat. “Suffering which could have been prevented across both instances. If only I allowed myself to believe in her, in the love she had for me… H’oh!” she cried. Pain Luna was so familiar with swelled quickly and suddenly. She shook her head. “Apologies, Starlight. As you may very well know, guilt is a wound that never fully heals.” Luna ducked behind a wing, blinking away tears in hopes that Starlight hadn’t yet seen them. “Princess Luna?” she fretted, frightening her as a hoof caressed her royal person. How “bold,” to express a familiarity far too many ponies felt uncomfortable to show towards their Princess of the Night. “Are you okay? Y-you don’t have to tell me the story, you know. To be honest, I kinda got the gist of it already.” Luna smiled wryly. Even if she was being honest concerning the “gist,” Starlight would hear the story anyway just so Luna would know she truly grasped it. Gists were open to interpretation, after all. Additionally, for all her brilliance, Starlight Glimmer missed “the point,” or “gist” if a personal stake held any sway over her judgement. At least, that is what Celestia told her, who of course knew through Twilight Sparkle—a pony who, even today, grappled with the same flaws. “Sit beside me, Starlight. I wish to be comfortable and the same for you.” With a single flap Luna was on her bed, Starlight clambering up beside her. Only when Luna pressed her larger form beside the young pony’s, and hugged a wing around her, did she confess, “This isn’t a story I’m very fond of reliving. In truth,” she chuckled, “I would direct you to Twilight, but out of respect for my privacy I know she’d send you back to me!” Starlight hooted, disbelieving. “Wow, what could be so embarrassing that it made Princess Luna pretend it never happened?” Luna craned her head, smirking playfully. “Lower your sarcasm, Miss Glimmer. You know better than Twilight herself that we princesses are still ponies beneath the titles and regalia.” “I know, I know! I was just kidding around,” she laughed. Luna managed a short-lived smile, crushed by the weight of her second-greatest failure. “This isn’t embarrassing, so much as it’s unbearably sad. Nor do I pretend it never happened—quite the opposite, actually; I’ve never forgotten it.” “U-uh, oh…” Starlight shifted in place. “I’m… sorry, if I offended you, Your Highness.” “Oh, Starlight, you’ve not.” Luna tightened the wing around Starlight when she felt her start to inch away. “Nay, in truth, you’ve alleviated some of the tension.” “Phew! Well, that’s a relief!” Starlight tittered. Luna resisted interrogating the mare over what she was just thinking. “Did I not ask you to stop presuming my feelings towards you, Starlight?” “Yes. R-right, sorry. S-sorry...” The distress in her tone made Luna want to sigh. She inhaled deeply instead. If I don’t succeed, Starlight will soon walk the same self-destructive path I once did. And nopony deserved that. “Not long ago, my life was in a dark, dark place.” Beside the false bedroom’s window, a mockery of her prison shone brightly. “‘twas a place where emotion overpowered logic, where isolating myself from my sister felt like I was helping her, and that self-harm absolved me of my sins until the next time I dreamt.” The pony beside her stiffened. Luna hoped Starlight was drawing parallels to her own behavior today. “It got out of hoof fast, as these things always do.” Luna’s throat closed until she forced herself to swallow. “And if not for Princess Twilight’s wisdom, Equestria would be doomed.” “Whoa…” Luna rolled her eyes to the ceiling, trying to keep the flood at bay. “So,” Starlight drew it out, “what did Twilight say? How’d she help?” Luna’s mouth opened to explain, but it just hung there. Part of her wanted to explain, but the other likely wouldn’t last long before she truly started crying. “She didn’t do anything. Not with what I’m about to tell you,” Luna quickly explained. “Oh, so your sister got involved?” She nodded. “And despite my best efforts, it ended with Celestia furious with me all the same. Repeat this to nopony, Starlight, but she screamed at me. She cried. She said all these words to me, and the best I could do was bob my head like some brainless goose.” Suddenly, Starlight nuzzled Luna just above her collar. “I can imagine why. She was worried sick about you. I’m worried about you, and this was before I even knew you!” She left her cheek resting against the princess. Luna’s insides writhed. Nopony but her sister and Equestria’s foals have ever been so casually affectionate towards her, and only the former had ever been concerned with her personal well-being. “You are too kind, Starlight Glimmer. But it pains me to admit that this wasn’t the only cause of Celestia’s ire.” “Oh?” “Indeed. My sister was certainly angry over my irresponsible behavior. But it wasn’t threatening the well-being of Equestria that sent her over the edge—the result of a ‘no harm, no foul’ philosophy Celestia’s always held.” Luna smirked hearing a genuine laugh from Starlight. “You know, I’ve always wondered how Twilight became so… benevolent, I guess. Well, now I know! But what made Princess Celestia really angry?” Any jubilance she felt was eviscerated by Starlight’s innocent question. “The fact that everything happened… everything I’d done to myself… was because she ‘failed’ me. She felt heartbreak and fury. Although I was the target of both, Celestia made it very clear she was most angry with herself.” Luna sighed, growling. The weight of her memory was still unbearable. “I felt terrible for making Celestia feel that way. From that day forth, I would never doubt my sister’s love for me again.” She hoped the “gist” was clear now. “What?” Starlight croaked. “B-but, you were the one who avoided her! Why’d she feel responsible?” Luna chuckled—it really did seem like madness to one who didn’t know the Princess of the Sun. “Understand the way Celestia sees things: if she’d succeeded as a sister, then I wouldn’t have been afraid of approaching her. I wouldn’t have presumed to’ve been ‘more work’ for her, as I casually labeled myself in the past. If I trusted her enough to have approached, then perhaps I wouldn’t have felt so horrible and guilty for so long. My tormentor might never have been conceived.” There had been more that her sister had raved to the heavens that day, but Luna couldn’t bother to remember them. The point was clear. Or rather, it should’ve been. Luna dared not to look in Starlight’s direction after five seconds of silence passed. “Do you understand me now, Starlight Glimmer? Guilt was not the problem. The Tantabus wasn’t my downfall, nor was Celestia my enemy.” “It was you,” Starlight realized. Luna caught herself from giving a visible start. “Yes,” she nodded with a smile. “I was my own worst enemy. My own doubts and self-loathing festered into seeds like the Tantabus and my sister’s imaginary wrath.” Luna slid off the bed, landing on her forehooves before walking to the black box Starlight had thrown. “W-what’re you doing?” Starlight asked from her perch. The box floated between them, wrapped in a midnight-blue glow. “This is your truth, Starlight. These… ugly, little baubles?” The Twilight marionette twirled on its strings, one wing extended, before Luna slammed the thing back into the dark hole it came from. “Illusions: crafted, painted, and puppeted by fears whose existence you repeatedly deny—to yourself, and your friends.” “Fizzlepop was real,” Starlight protested. Luna found she wasn’t even looking at her, so much as she was looking through her. “Back in the hall, she was being real with me. She honestly wanted to be my friend… and I just ran away because I was too afraid I’d mess up a conversation over tea.” Before witnessing Starlight’s dream transmute into a nightmare, Luna had already known when that would happen. “I know. I was in her dream before visiting yours.” Luna smirked seeing Starlight’s eyes light up. “Your conversation seems to have struck a chord with the two of you this evening, for both good and ill.” She still heard Starlight’s voice coming from the puppet Fizzlepop’s wooden mouth: ‘Look! You disgust the princess!’What a sad, familiar story. “Princess—” “I cannot disclose the contents of one’s dream with another.” Starlight simply blinked. Luna cleared her throat. “Just… in case you ask,” she clarified. Starlight relaxed, smiling. “No, no, you’re right. But I’m just curious: did my version of our talk in the hall resemble her’s, in any way?” Her strained, awkward smile melted into a genuine one as Luna made her own. “I’ve seen the same conversation twice. Heard the same words, watched the same movements.” “Huh,” was all Starlight said, grinning to herself. Only she knew what was running through her head. With this, for this, Luna felt content. “This conversation deeply resonated with the two of you, I’d say. So much so, your perceived failures inflicted seemingly-irreparable damage to something both of your hearts desired.” “What do I do? Tell me Princess, please,” Starlight asked, desperation propelling her from the false bed and practically into Luna’s snout, blue eyes wide with worry. “Tell me how to fix everything.” Luna blinked. A chuckle bubbled up as she groomed Starlight’s perfectly curled mane. “Worry not, my little pony. The answer you seek lies here,” she tapped Starlight’s forehead, just below her maiming, “and in here,” then upon her bosom. As Starlight graced her with a wary smile, Luna demonstrated her point further with the pony’s ‘head:’ a black box floating beside them, closer to its owner’s level. “Heed my words, Starlight. Because you spend so much time listening to this, it distracts you from what is real.” Luna stole a glimpse of the ugly puppets tangled up in their dark little home. “And when you blur the line between fantasy and reality, the two worlds merge, and you end up the director of your own tragedy.” Luna took pleasure firing a sliver of silver at the wooden Starlight, who she envisioned as a puppet of herself. The entire box erupted like a cardboard furnace, devoured in flame with a short, sharp whoof, akin to one blowing out a candle. A flurry of ash danced to the carpet. The Starlight of flesh and blood looked to her princess. It warmed Luna’s heart to see a smile still there, albeit an uncertain one all the same. “Take notes from my experience as well as your own, Starlight: talk to somepony. Disclose your fears and dispel all doubts, lest you doom yourself to the same mistakes I’ve made.” Starlight’s eyes, wide and glistening, filled her vision. “And that will fix me?” With a hoof on her shoulder, Luna eased the Unicorn off her tiptoes. The broken horn was hard to miss, and even harder to ignore. “Unfortunately not.” Too many fears and doubts were bared in Starlight’s dream. Too many for Luna to link to a single source. For now. “As of now, this is your most blatant fear. It affects your quality of life to a degree which has your friends worried.” Her eyes drifted to the ashmarks seeped into the carpet. “And tackling too much at once can leave you overwhelmed.” “Yeah, I know what you mean. Well, hopefully you like my face! Because…” Starlight drooped, hissing through her teeth, “...yeah, it’s a lot.” Luna caressed the pony’s face until she reached her chin and lifted it to her. “Fret not, Starlight Glimmer. Helping my ponies is what I live for. Even if it takes us a hundred nightmares, I won’t stop until yours are gone for good.” The promise rang warmly in Luna’s chest. This is what her cutie mark, her title, and everything in between stood for. A chuckle fluttered up from below. Starlight kept a foreleg lifted close to her muzzle. “Just be sure to give yourself a break!” she tittered. “Even I wouldn’t wanna see me every night.” She laughed harder. “I’m so messed-up, it’d take all of Equestria to make me better!” Luna giggled out of politeness. The humor was lost on her, as it always was. Starlight’s laughter deteriorated into a distorted a whine in Luna’s ears—like the discourse of Canterlot’s staff when they were several corridors away from her and her ability to care. Except Luna cared now. Her heart beat fast, watching this unique little pony. Everything Luna liked about Starlight was summarized in this single moment, where she drew back, eyes shut in bliss and tears beading the corners of them, howling with laughter, and a broken horn momentarily forgotten. To simply muster up humor in the face of so much tragedy… “I admire your strength,” Luna admitted. She huffed at the abruptness of Starlight’s silence. “M’hy what?” she squawked. Luna booped her nose. “Do not be so aghast, Starlight Glimmer. You’ve stood tall after being knocked aside so many times, it’s clear to me that your strength is unparalleled.” Starlight’s mouth fell open, but she said nothing, no doubt stunned to hear such praise. “And,” Luna kept her eyes ahead as she leaned in close, murmuring playfully, “if I may be momentarily unprofessional, I envy you.” Anxiety swarmed within harsher than her burning face, but Luna pushed herself through to the bitter, awkward end. “You’ve endured hardships on a more frequent basis than I, yet are likely the more pleasant dinner guest between the two of us. Wouldn’t you say?” Luna hoped Starlight would laugh at her own joke. “P-Princess,” she, unfortunately, said with obvious discomfort, “you’ve got the wrong idea. I-I’m n-not—” Luna lifted a hoof, sapphire-dusted eyelids drawn shut. She’s so humble. Especially with her nightmare fresh in mind. “You need not tell me what’s running through your mind, little one. Your dreams speak for themselves. I know that praise can make you uncomfortable. But do not mistake my words for such. ‘tis a fact of your soul, Starlight Glimmer.” “I…” Starlight gulped, shaking her head. “I don’t…” “There are few ponies who could endure the emotional hardships you have.” Luna peered from the corner of her eye, exchanging a glance with the jagged remnants of the poor pony’s horn. Starlight shied away, facing the space between her forehooves. “Hey.” Luna bumped her shoulder. Starlight met her eye, surprised to find their muzzles inches apart while Luna ached to see her freshly-moistened gaze. “Deny it all you want, my friend. But there isn’t a pony in Equestria who’d find the strength to go on feeling what you do.” She began to shake. Luna’s words must have touched her deeply—clearly she was in desperate need of hearing them. “Truly, you are a strong pony.” “Thank, you,” she uttered stiffly. It was disheartening that this was all she had to say. But there were nightmares to smite, ponies to help, and Starlight needed far more than what was likely perceived as hollow praise. “Seek friendship, Starlight Glimmer. I believe Fizzlepop Berrytwist is a good place to start.” She gave a wink. Remembering that mare’s dream, Luna hoped she and Starlight realized how similar they really were. She took a deep breath. “Thank you, Princess Luna. For everything.” Her voice was hoarse, but not quite so stiff as before. Luna smiled, feeling affectionate for her subject. She wanted nothing more than to hug Starlight. But having responsibilities meant sacrifices had to be made, and she didn’t want to overstep her boundaries with a pony she clearly made uncomfortable. “I’ve done nothing, yet,” she told Starlight. “I’ve given you the tools. Now your fate is in your hooves.” The prospect paled her complexion. “R-right…” Luna kept a smile on the widened eyes of her subject. She continued doing so with an eye on her as she turned, midnight-blue wings almost touching either end of the false bedroom. “Be good to yourself, Starlight Glimmer. Farwell.” “Bye, Princess…” Luna dissipated herself into a silver cloud, which shot like a bolt fired from a crossbow at the moon outside the window. She hated to leave Starlight in her current state. But the rest was up to her, as it was with everypony else. Upon reaching her and Spike’s throne once more, Twilight stopped dead in her tracks after bringing a mug full of air to her lips, where she drank deep the lukewarm, energizing liquid known as air. She rolled her eyes—just how much stupider could she get? Twilight Sparkle: Princess of Friendship, unable to keep track of how full her stupid coffee was. What hope was there for Starlight if she failed at something this basic? Imagining herself with a full mug, Twilight erupted her old one in a pinkish puff of magic, into the same yellow porcelain but filled with more coffee! She resumed her quick little canter around the Cutie Map. Twilight drank deep, gagged, then drank again. Magically-transfigured coffee simply never tasted as good as Spike’s, but it got the job done. Another caffeinated gulp popped the crystalline walls blurring by into definition, their deep, violet edges sharpening alongside her foggy mind. It woke up, ready for another mug-long bout of hard thinking. Hurried clip-clops maintained a quick, steady rhythm for Twilight to think to. It was the perfect background music! Just, tip-tap-tip-tap-tip-tap. It was so simple, so efficient, so distractingly monotonous! Twilight took another sip before refocusing on the notepad held before her: Helping Starlight Glimmer - Plan T, it read. Its pages were filled with one detailed step after another, with plans ranging from three of those to over thirty. Only half of this second one’s were used, crammed corner to corner with ideas about as refined as her very first magical thesis. But that was fine! Plans “A” through “H” took up her original notepad, and they were solid. Foalproof, even. Starlight probably wouldn’t even need to go that far! And if she did, then she will. And if all twenty-six plans failed, Twilight would make up a new alphabet to accommodate. “Whatever it takes, whatever it takes,” she rattled off under her breath, like a prayer. “Won’t fail again, won’t fail again.” Letting Starlight down was, well, it just wasn’t going to happen. Twilight would move the planet—that is to say, cobble together some science so she could do so—if that’s what it took to help her friend. My amazing, generous, caring, inconsiderate, difficult, stubborn, suffering friend... Curse Starlight for threatening their friendship. Curse her! Twilight would have no problem marching to Flutter Valley herself if Starlight wasn’t so against it… Twilight inhaled, deep, sharp and quick. Her trot’s pace never faltered. Unlike her anger, which ebbed and flowed like waves, washing over her, the undertow threatening to pull her beneath. How dare Starlight threaten such a thing? Twilight had spat one moment, then, almost within the same breath, she uttered, No, no, she knows I’ll do something worse than the time I freed the Pony of Shadows. Something about going to Flutter Valley truly terrified Starlight. So much so she dared to hold their bond hostage. Could she be right about this? Was there any reality beneath her clearly-outrageous fear? Not even Celestia knows what those “witches” are capable of. Neither she, nor Luna, even knew of their existence, or the foal’s story they inspired… yet. Twilight realized she still hadn’t told them that Starlight had awakened. Or of the current situation. There was always tomorrow. Odds were that Starlight was probably right. She actually had good intuition when her mind was clear. With her track record, Twilight would probably end up making everything worse. Maybe she’d further advance the evil machinations of those “big and scary” beings, as Fluttershy described the one she saw. But they were half a world away, and far beyond her concerns now. Starlight was what mattered. Yet, here Twilight was, having a nice run in the map room while simultaneously faltering in her planning! She only had three more hours until the sun was up! Twilight racked her brain for some kind of “Plan T.” T… T… What else would Starlight respond to? If “S” failed, then what could top a Friendship Chi Neigh Tsang Massage Group Therapy Session?! “Ugh!” Twilight groaned, breath frosting before her. Slowing to a stop behind Rainbow Dash’s throne, mug and notepad absentmindedly orbiting around her, Twilight pondered the possibility of one of her friends brainstorming some ideas. Surely they had their own insight, as well as a desire to help Starlight Glimmer. Fluttershy was the pony she spent the most time with, besides Twilight of course, so maybe she’d have a better idea of what Starlight would— An eruption of noise and porcelain startled her with a yelp. Twilight twitched away, crying out as she found the blood of her shattered yellow friend staining the second planner an ugly bronze. “No, no, no!” she cried, picking it up in her hoof’s grasp. The thing dripped with coffee, completely waterlogged. Twilight stiffened a quivering lip and glared upwards, grimacing at the perpetrator. Of course horns don’t just “fail,” nor was Twilight one to blunder such a simple levitation spell. But she was also in the middle of her eighth coffee that evening, and running on just four hours of sleep from the night prior. “Oh, come on, I’ve spent nights studying longer than this. When I was a unicorn, no less! So what’s up, horn? Huh? Why’d you fail on… on… me?” Twilight breathed, watching the faint, white cloud be born and die upon her words. “...Haaah,” she sighed. It was like a dragon breathing smoke. A bad feeling settled in Twilight’s gut. Not only was it the summer, not only did her castle magically heat itself when it was cold, but usually, in her own experience, when Twilight saw her breath it meant it was cold. The Map Room was as warm and comfortable as it’d ever been. Goosebumps prickled underneath her coat. Chills shocked her body several times over, and made Twilight tremble with more than a caffeine overdose. Above, the tips of Golden Oaks’ fingers stretched into her peripherals—earthy brown, sanded smooth by Applejack… ...and coated in a glassy film. Ice. The memories strung below glistened upon it, bedazzling the roots with little pink, orange, and blue stars. A double-knot of dread twisted within as Twilight traced their path, turning, her eyes running down to the great, oaken stump hanging from her ceil— Twilight froze. She blinked her heavy eyes three times but what she saw was still there, existing in the same room as her. Something huge was standing above the Cutie Map, now somehow activated and displaying her country. One paw had been suspended above it, ready to direct a single, extended claw down to someplace in Equestria. It was unlike anything Twilight had seen before. She couldn't tell if it was some sort of ogre, or a distant relative of the Humans. Wait... No! No, they're not real. This isn't them. Are you crazy, Twilight? Run, get help, this isn’t a friendly visit! Twilight's heart felt torn between her options, her instincts screaming to run while rational thought scolded, No, you don’t know that. Be friendly. Approach her. Twilight's hooves remained rooted in place. As her thoughts battled on a decision, the creature’s finger descended on a holographic mountain in the north. “gRiFfOnStOnE,” it, she, uttered in a voice which shocked Twilight’s soul into the afterlife and back. Her finger shifted, “MaNeHaTtAn,” and halted on the eastern coastline. It moved again. “ThE sMoKeY mOuNtAiNs!” Her spine was somehow bent in a loop. If unfurled, was she... she was enormous. Her legs alone were as long as Discord, one of them bent at a ninety degree angle. Twilight swallowed, over and over, air squeezing, wheezing faintly out her lungs. “lAs PeGaSuS.” The monster's face was cloaked in shadow and an eruption of orange hair. “HoLlOw ShAdEs.” From within her shadowy veil, flecks of rubies glowered at the Cutie Map. “AnD oUr ToWn…” Her dagger of a face, tapering to a near-pointed chin, cracked in Twilight’s direction. “YoU’vE sEeN mUcH oF tHe WoRlD, pRiNcEsS. cHaNgEd It—YoU aNd YoUr CuTe LiTtLe FrIeNdS.” A distorted chuckle shocked the very air. “StArLiGhT aS wElL. hOw’S sHe DoInG, bY tHe WaY?” Fire ignited inside of Twilight’s belly, burning away all her terror. “You stay away from them. You stay away from her!” Twilight's anger was strong, unwavering, just like Celestia’s would be. It almost made her forget the sudden rush of terror twisting in her chest. “What are you doing here? Come to torture my friend some more? Well, you’re gonna answer to me first.” The Witch of Flutter Valley hadn’t moved a muscle since turning, even as she roared with otherworldly laughter. “HoW fRiEnDlY! cElEsTiA hAs TaUgHt YoU wElL! wHaT, nO iNtRoDuCtIoNs? No, ‘WhO aRe YoU?’ or ‘hOw DiD yOu GeT hErE?’” Twilight breathed, slow and deep and trying to calm. “I know what you are,” she said lightly, then exhaled, “and I know who you are.” “Do TeLL…” purred the witch. Twilight searched back to what she once treasured as a foalhood storybook. Within the anthology, she had feared a magical story about a brother and sister outsmarting a trio of dark magic-wielding earth ponies. “Well,” she swallowed, “you’re one of the Ladies of Flutter Valley. A witch, for lack of a better word, though... I'm not sure that appropriately encompasses the scope of your power.” She still wasn't certain of that, but just this thing's overwhelming presence in the Map Room, one of the most magically-saturated places Twilight's ever felt... “vErY sMaRt." Twilight hardened her heart; there would be time for that later. "NoW wHo Am I?” Twilight’s gaze danced about her big, lanky figure, her orange mane brushing against Golden Oaks’ roots, altogether avoiding the little red lights she had for eyes. Don't be presumptuous. One false move and that could be it for me. I'm all alone, none of my friends nearby... “You’re Draggle," she answered tightly, "the Foolish Lady.” “aH, yEs.” Draggle’s paw, black with dirt, pressed upon her malnourished breast. She was nothing like the Draggle Twilight knew. “i ReMeMbEr ThOsE dAyS. BaCk WhEn We CoUlD sUsTaIn SuCh InDiViDuAlItY," she sighed, like a howling wind. She obviously wanted Twilight to comment on that, think about it, because, why would she pause for so long otherwise? “Did you control my magic?” She glanced at a coffee-colored patch of ice between Rainbow’s throne and Spike’s. “nO.” Relief flooded through Twilight. It looked like Starlight really was overreacting! These creatures were powerful to be sure, but that didn’t mean they were the source of all magic in Eques— “i JuSt SmOtHeReD iT.” Twilight choked on an airless gasp. Her caffeinated heartbeat skipped several beats. “Nopony should have that power. Nopony," she snapped, completely forgetting who she was talking to. “H’aH,” Draggle hissed, “i HeAr YoUr InSiDeS, sQuIsHiNg AnD cLeNcHiNg WiTh HoT bLoOd—DeLiCiOuS aDrEnALiNe! aRe YoU aFrAiD oF mE nOw, PrInCeSs TwiLiGhT sPaRkLe? I cAn HeAr ThAt YoU aRe~" Twilight glared through her bangs with teeth gnashed at the intruder. “How about you stop wasting time and get to the point already? Why’re you here?!” Draggle grunted. “AfRaId, BuT nOt Of Me. WeLL, tHaT wOn'T dO...” Like a spider, but twice as fast, the witch twisted her body over to Twilight on all fours, “...hOw AbOuT NOW?” she howled, ringing within the vastness of the Map Room. There was only Draggle’s face, unveiled at last, whose skin reminded her of a sandy beach—pocky and rough and so dry that pale, pink cracks lined the defined folds of her cheeks and forehead. Twilight could only gape. She forgot her voice, her words, and everything that made Equestria the beautiful cornerstone of Harmony it was now known for. She was at a loss for words. Draggle shouldn’t speak, yet she did, despite having a mouth of black lace, stitched closed by someone who wanted her quiet a hundred times over. The feeling of a needle piercing one's lips over and over so they couldn't talk or even eat... Twilight whimpered and looked away, but something willed her gaze into Draggle's. It was not red, her gaze, but hazel. One eyeball pointed left, the other ‘northeast,’ to the thunderbolt on Rainbow’s seat. Like Derpy’s in a way. Draggle didn’t bat an eye, nor did she look at Twilight. Ever. She never would, not with those small protrusions sticking out of her eyeballs, aimed at Twilight with their crimson luminescence, like a horn ready to fire. One protrusion opened up to a pit full of little white… chips? Teeth? They’re alive? Twilight drew close with macabre curiosity. What? The closer she got, the heavier her jaw became. What in Equestria—? It screeched, lunging at her and snapping. Twilight scrambled away, screaming as Draggle pulled away. “ThAt’S bEtTeR.” The princess scrambled to emulate Cadance’s breathing exercise, hammering her foreleg faster, harder against her breast as Draggle crunched her body into a bipedal posture, pigeon-toes and ape-like paws almost brushing the floor. Her face was obscured once more, thank Equestria. “i LoVe BrEaKiNg ThE mIgHtY aNd ToPpLiNg ThE TaLL.” Twilight was completely at Draggle’s mercy. Has she come to take her horn too? Kidnap her, lure her friends into a trap? “What do you want from me?” She hated how terrified she sounded. “To Do WhAt I hAvE tO, jUsT lIkE aLL oF yOu.” Draggle reached up and lowered two, claw-like fingers into the front pocket of her overalls. “I pRoMiSe yOu ThIs, TwiLiGhT: yOu WiLl NoT gReAtLy sUfFeR tOdAy. nOr WiLl YoU sUfFeR tHiS wEeK, oR tHe NeXt.” Her fist retreated, clutching something. “BuT sOoN, aLL WiLL fEeL rIgHt WiTh ThE wOrLd. AnD iT wILL pRoVe YoU wRoNg iN a WaY fAr WoRsE tHaN yOu CoUlD pOsSiBlY iMaGiNe." "WhEn ThAt DaY cOmEs, I hOpE yOu ReMeMbEr ThIs MoMeNt, and StArLiGhT's.” Twilight squeezed her eyes shut, even folded her ears to protect herself from Draggle’s haunting words. “I’m not listening.” What of this witch warranted trust? Starlight and her dang “deal” came to mind; Twilight only had a vague idea that they twisted their words to abuse loopholes and drive ponies crazy, like they did to her friend. “You're just saying anything you can to throw me off. Well, I don’t believe a word you’re saying. I won’t!” “nEvEr?” “Never.” “NoT eVeN fOr StArLiGhT’s HoRn?” Twilight’s heart did a full-stop. “wErE yOu NoT cOnSiDeRiNg A dEaL wItH uS iN eXcHaNgE fOr It?” Her eyes boggled open, and not just because Draggle somehow knew that. Right there, held a foot from Twilight’s snout, the source of the misery which plagued her dear friend, was clutched between Draggle’s thumb and index finger. It was small, conical, and possessed a spiny base which Ladies undoubtedly wielded the power to reattach. Twilight’s chest lurched as it was wrenched away, Draggle lifting it to her shadowed mug. The pair of glowing, red specks analyzed it like Rarity would a gemstone. “wOuLdN’t It Be GrAnD tO mAkE StArLiGhT hApPy AgAiN?” Want and desperation burned inside of Twilight. “i HaD aN aRgUmEnT wItH mY sIsTeR, tWiLiGhT. sHe SaId tHaT a TrUe PrInCeSs Of FrIeNdShIp WoUlD dO aNyThInG tO hElP a FrIeNd, BuT i DiSaGrEeD!” Twilight rolled her head, whimpering like the pitiful, useless princess that she was. “sOmE pOnIeS aRe JuSt ThAt SeLfIsH! cAn YoU bELiEvE iT?” To her left lay a coffee-stained notepad filled with poorly-conceived ideas. Ideas that would never make Starlight happy for long. Not if she didn’t have her magic. “Alright, Draggle. Okay,” Twilight sighed. The weight of defeat was egregious. Even though Draggle was deadly-accurate, Twilight hated it with all her heart. “What do you want for it?” If this is what being the Princess of Friendship was all about, Twilight would be remiss if she was too afraid to meet Starlight’s standard. At least she’ll be happy again. No matter what they want, no matter what I sacrifice, Starlight will be smiling again. And that’s good enough for me. Raucous laughter rattled in the spacious Map Room. “I’m AfRaId i DoN’t FoLlOw,” said Draggle. “eXpLaIn yOuRsElF tO mE!” Twilight assumed nothing, even if this monster was messing with her. “You know why I'm doing this. And I’m telling you that I accept: I’ll make a deal. If there’s something of mine that you wanted… if all this was to use Starlight to get to me, well, congratulations.” Hatred smoldered Twilight’s glare and drumming heart. “Here’s your chance.” Draggle hummed, then spoke in a low, echoing voice, “VeRy InTuItIvE, pRiNcEsS.” Twilight opened her mouth, ready to ask what they wanted. “SaDLy, I aM gOnNa HaVe To DeCLiNe.” “Wha-huh?! Buh-buh-but you, you make deals with ponies, just like in the storybook!" Twilight cried, no better than herself as a foal, denying that Celestia wasn't an actual goddess, like all ponies her age. "You have to accept my deal, you can’t just dismiss it!” Starlight… She was no different then than she was now, because... “nO wE dOn’T.” Draggle leaned down. “nO i DoN’t.” Her massive head craned past her knees, down to Twilight’s. “AnD yEs, I, cAn.” Her worms shrieked a long, ear-ringing cry, as Twilight realized then that she was still a naive foal. Because she was too trusting. She felt like the biggest fool in all of Equestria and she didn’t know why. Draggle spoke like it was so obvious, yet everything seemed a thousand times more complicated than it was five minutes ago. From Starlight’s horn, to the initial plan to bring the Elements to Flutter Valley (which Twilight decided would be “Plan Z” no matter what), to just who these creatures were and what they even wanted or where they came from... Twilight's heart sank to the blackest pits of Tartarus. “But… But the story… the deals you make…” She'd failed. Statuesque Draggle chuckled, low and evilly. “dOn’T bELiEvE eVeRyThInG yOu ReAd, PrInCeSs.” Her palm slid between them, presenting a small, pink horn. “We OnLy EvEr MaDe A dEaL wItH sTaRLiGhT gLiMmEr.” And Draggle’s hand squeezed with a stomach-churning CRUNCH. The sound shot Twilight in the heart, sapping whatever strength remained from these last several weeks. She collapsed to her knees, empty. Contents like powdered sugar sprinkled from Draggle’s slowly-tilting fist: a trickle of fine pink dust. Within a moment, the remnants of Starlight’s pride and joy dusted the polished floor. Her eyes prickled. Her lips trembled. A white, frosty cloud brokenly formed before her. “tHe ReSt WiLl FoLlOw, As Is OrDaInEd. UnTiL oUr FiNaL mEeTiNg, pRiNcEsS. gOoD lUcK.” Draggle blinked out of existence—no noise, no light. She was just there, and now she wasn’t. The cold kiss of Twilight’s spilt coffee ran underneath her knees. Melted ice wept from Golden Oaks’ roots onto the map, a halfhearted dribble upon the image of Equestria. It flickered defiantly before falling dark. End of Honesty - The Broken Life Next Time: (Laughter) The Broken Heart - Starlight Glimmer heeds advice and ignores others. Friendships are made and mended back together. A Changeling Gourd Fest is attended.