Tempest Shadow blinked. "That... was a lot." The mystery of those weeping noises from the shower beforehand was solved. They really were cries. Tempest was right. She did nothing, then or now.
Not that she couldn't. Glimmer was in the shower, first of all. Here, she was in the careful process of pouring them tea while Glimmer started babbling on about witches, the magic of the world, something called a "Flutter Valley," and the cow pie that is Destiny to sour the whole experience.
Tempest blinked again. And again.
Glimmer's eyes bounced to and fro, a wisp of steam curling before her, before that stump upon her head, far shorter and violent-looking than Tempest's own. Her's was a clean break by the paw of a baby Ursa, so swiftly it struck that young Fizzlepop Berrytwist was found unconscious and broken at the mouth of its den, the beast having stomped off thinking it killed the intruder.
Starlight's was hideous by comparison. Some of the splinters reached out like talons, brittle-looking and uneven. A randomized patch of serrated needles. None but the softspoken mare knew how the attack looked, but Tempest could tell it was yanked away from Glimmer's skull. Not bent. A shudder rippled through her, though Starlight was none the wiser; one good thing she got out of the Storm King's "training," at least.
"Please, say something," Glimmer giggled sheepishly.
A chill gripped Tempest by the mane still. "What do you want me to say?" she snapped. Her voice came softly, but the question, by nature, did not.
Glimmer winced and broke eye contact, reminding Tempest's socially-damaged self of the obvious: normal ponies were gentler, kinder, and more emotional than any creature in the world. And more importantly, with a familiar, faint clenching in Tempest's breast, Glimmer was just like her.
Emotional to a fault.
Wrathful to a self-destructive degree.
Ignorantly selfish.
Hornless.
And so, so strong. Until today, it seemed. Maybe a result of Tempest's inaction. Doing a stand-up job salvaging this, you're awful, 'Fizzle,' Tempest joked, though it didn't help in the slightest. She even thought it in Glimmer's humorous, snarky tone, but in the end, Pinkie Pie was a liar. Laughing at oneself only reminded them of their pathetic shortcomings.
Fizzle swigged her own cup of tea, clutching it gently, albeit firmly, in both hooves. She drank deep until there was nothing left, then poured herself another as warmth snaked underneath her breast.
Damn. Damn. Damn it all. Fizzle would have loosed such vile curses had she been in the presence of Storm Guards. But not ponies, not these days. Especially not in front of her... friend. The idea tickled her. According to Twilight, friends understood one another, cared for each other, and listened to what one another had to say with open minds.
By her accounts, Starlight was Tempest's closest friend.
And what a friend she was in turn. Fizzle had seen much in her days. Done more than she wished to remember, but was punished to never, ever forget. Acceptable, however. It was the least "Tempest Shadow" deserved, for...
For caging this gentle people she dared call her own. Nearly dooming them to enslavement for that monkey of a king.
For herself, a pony who was twice as old as those who considered themselves her friends. A pony who'd never staked her character on a belief, or a want, beyond that of what was already impossible. Even now, there was no drive. No future goals. She'd stayed holed up in her room all of yesterday, brooding like it was the old days again, like she had an excuse for acting the edgy teenager.
Even when Princess Twilight served up a future on her generous silver platter, not once, but twice. Most recently this morning, Tempest Shadow refused, in part in shame, primarily pride. Hate, really, for the ideas Glimmer now peddled her way, that her fate was never in control.
In Tempest's opinion, that was total crap. She wasn't the most magically-apt pony around, nor was she the smartest. But she never followed anyone or anything, not once. Never for their sake, not even the Storm King. She was her own Destiny, the one thing she ever got a say in, not some sadistic entity in the clouds, dictating ponies' lives like they were little more than wind-up toys.
"I wanted to know what you think," Starlight suddenly uttered. How timely. Was this Destiny possessing Glimmer to ask this right now?
A shake of the head. "I think you're a little bit crazy," stated Tempest, her bluntness accustomed to Storm Guards and scoundrels.
The pony's miserable, sad eyes shut, then opened, focused on her tea once more. "Yeah," she sighed, and nothing further.
This was not the same hollowness of the last couple days, of a pony worn down by the struggle of normal needs like basic hygiene. That was humiliating, surely, but at least nopony was around to see how helpless she'd become.
No, Fizzle remembered that look from a filly one lifetime ago, who'd disdained the scars marring her face and reputation until she despised their owner, and sought to erase them both. No, Starlight Glimmer, a miserable little pony to be sure, had merely looked exhausted before this. Cracking at the seams, yes, but marching to the beat of her drum. Not bending to the will of the world. Of her fate. Instead, she was fighting to the best of her ability.
It was a strength as unfamiliar as it was praiseworthy, and Fizzlepop refused to believe this witch had taken that. "Come now, don't give me the 'sad sack' routine. Where's your fire?"
Starlight answered like one commenting on the weather. "Sputtering out, like all fires do."
Fires could be rekindled, though. She was giving up too easily. "You fought against this 'destiny' crap to save the princess," Fizzle cursed. "How can you go face down, tail up, and take it now?"
Tempest had no idea if Starlight grasped the vulgar implications of her sentiment, but the dung slung her way certainly wasn't missed.
"I told you, this quote-unquote 'destiny crap' was the reason Twilight came to my village in the first place," she said. "Why I've lived here, helped the changelings and Stygian, saved Twilight, even? It's because of this 'crap' that you're sitting here now, enjoying teatime with yours truly. This 'crap' has been the way of the world for centuries, good and bad, and only now am I realizing my whole life has culminated to this happening to me." Her hoof, pointing at her stump, hit the table with a clatter of dishes. "We're not arguing about this. I don't want to. I'm sorry for bringing it up, so just drop it... Please?" Her ears wilted, eyes like her own namesake. "Don't make me talk about this any more, Fizzle, please."
There was that fire. Fleeting, but proved she wasn't broken yet. Good. "So by your logic, losing my horn? Having my life ruined? That's Destiny and its grand design?"
Starlight, cheek propped, gave a dung-eating grin. "Enjoy the taste. Not that I said it was delicious..."
Though she clearly thought it was, once. Now it made sense to Tempest: Glimmer was like a filly having just discovered where foals came from (and it wasn't rainbows).
A conversational dead end was what this was. "Tch." Tempest resettled violently in her chair, but was met with that cursed thing off to the side. She'd draped it with a sheet upon being gifted this equally uncanny bedroom. It did nothing to change the fact that it existed. But at least Tempest could avoid acknowledging what it meant as she had long before Starlight began to wave its purpose in Tempest's face like a patronizing dog bone.
This castle, this room, that thing and now Starlight's conviction... It was all becoming impossible to ignore, however.
Looking up to her, a stare lasting no more than a glance was exchanged before Starlight's eyes dropped to her tea, implying shame; withholding information. Considering how open they were yesterday, with "Fizzle" no less, she ought not to feel this way.
She simply shouldn't.
Unless it was something on Tempest's end, of course. Suddenly, their last couple exchanges made her feel like an ice-cold bully. "Do I," Fizzle, Tempest, hesitated, "...intimidate you?"
She was pitiful, and Starlight's sad-turned-gawking stare proved she knew it, knew she was so offended by this fear of her. Starlight had the Celestia-given right to feel that way, just as all ponies did. She owed Tempest Shadow nothing.
Yet, she acted like she did for "taking" Tempest's time, as if this old horse barely had any to spare: "N-no! No way, never!" she panicked, exaggerating, as one called out only could. "But... there's ideas going on in my head. Crazy things, like you said. And," she laughed, hollow eyes staring through Tempest, "and if I'm calling them crazy, well, there's no point hassling you, is there?"
Tempest didn't know what to say. I'm sorry I made you feel that way. Shame closed her throat. She was too silent for too long, and settled on a stiff nod. "Your tea is getting cold," she muttered.
"Right." Starlight's hooves trembled as she gripped it between both hooves. A sneaky glance Tempest caught in her peripherals mid-sip reminded her of the correct form, and balanced it on one hoof while propping it for security against the other.
A silent teatime had sunk in.
She really ought to grill Starlight, get her to confess. Though the kind of help Tempest had on offer would ultimately be useless, Starlight Glimmer didn't deserve to be scared of foal's stories. Or worse, believe her selfless sacrifice was little more than a footnote in the princess's long, coincidental life.
But prying into the convictions of a wounded soul would only make the problem fester, the issue in question being Glimmer's doubts. She'd only fight back against being pushed, leaving it to be worked at her own pace the only option. Fizzlepop Berrytwist knew this from experience, having long-since accepted "the hard way" of dealing with such trauma. Though Tempest would be damned for good this time if Starlight became as evil as she was, that was impossible, for this pony was older than Fizzlepop was at the time, and unlike most children, Glimmer reckoned outwardly as opposed to internally.
Twilight Sparkle ought to know better than ignore her unique perspective. It was admirable, to a degree, of how dauntless she was when it came to her friends, even monsters. But Fizzlepop... Tempest... remembered how irritating that could be if they didn't want it. Twilight would never understand, unfortunately, even after having it succinctly explained to her this morning (and likely missing Tempest's point when she'd stupidly confessed how much it was appreciated regardless, thanks to Glimmer's advice the previous morning). The princess could say, "No, I do get it," all she wanted. But a real friend would respect the wishes of another, no?
"Fizzle?" Said mare snapped her gaze up, jolting at the sound of concern. "Are you okay?" Starlight asked, head tilting. "Because I hope I'm not bothering you, th-though if I am..."
A shake of her head, an ache within rattling about. "Head's about to explode. Thinking about what you said. It was a lot is all." Hopefully her smirk assured that she wasn't speaking in ill will.
Her friend's ears wilted with the weight of the world. "I'm sorry," she said. "I needed somepony to talk to, a-and..." Her mouth staggered close, punctuating with a shrug. "I'm sorry."
"I understand," said Tempest. "There's more, though. Things I'm not very eager to dissect. Though I will say this: friendship? It's more complicated than I thought."
There was that smile. "You could say that again." Starlight glanced about, pursing her lips. "Maybe ponies are what's complicated."
"The two don't seem mutually exclusive."
"I guess not. It feels like they go hoof in hoof, don't they?"
Tempest snorted, for Starlight asked as if she had any idea. "You're talking to the wrong mare, little one." Starlight flushed a delightful shade of red, almost violet in the light of Tempest's bedroom. Definitely not because of its stuffiness.
Starlight's view made somewhat sense, on second thought. After all, the last thing an angry, fearful pony wanted was to be reminded they were so (another belief wrought by personal experience). If Tempest indulged her desire to help, it'd push away the sole pony who didn't regard her with at least a modicum of resentment (or so she liked to think).
She'd then be avoided like Princess Twilight... Right? The thought of losing Starlight pierced Tempest with something sharp, twisting the blade, gouging her heart out like barbed arrowhead clutched its innards.
Tempest loosed a breath. I won't let you lose to these bastards.
It was clear, then: she'd just been making excuses.
She wouldn't have been in this pathetic position of second-guessing herself if not for those monsters. Not solely for the encounter this morning, but for Starlight having ever contacted them in the first place and bringing her here. These beasts had violated Glimmer, ruined her, and were trying their damnedest to break her. By her friend's beliefs, Tempest was brought here to watch helplessly from the sidelines, for she could do nothing against them, nor help Starlight overcome her troubles. Perhaps this was divine punishment.
The weight of it all pressed against her, pinning her voice to her throat so thoroughly she couldn't swallow. Weak was Tempest's heart. It always had been, until decades of hardening it into a lump of stone rendered it unbreakable. That is until a pony, who should have let her get blown apart, swiftly shattered it to dust in one selfless act.
Then she left this empty shell to live a life that had been long-since eliminated: Fizzlepop Berrytwist's.
But Starlight Glimmer, an enjoyable pony in what was likely to be a briefly-lived union, gave Tempest something precious and irreplaceable yesterday. Something she could understand in this backwards world she once called home, and she only realized this, when else, but now? And she'd squandered it with cold hooves and schoolyard insecurities despite hearing sobs amidst an hour-long shower before arriving.
'I would only be intrusive.' Ha! Tempest smiled as bitterly as the tea she sipped to mask it. I'm nothing if I never dare to try to begin with.
And her inaction brought them here. Wasn't Destiny the most novel of concepts? Boggled the mind how Starlight could readily buy into it, it sincerely did.
Tempest clenched her jaw, her pity smoldering hot in her chest. Damnable emotions, controlling them was like attempting to tame a mad beast. Even though this was definitely her fault...
But it was also Twilight's for being stupid, Starlight's fault for being even more naive, and those witches, too, with their damned games playing them all like fiddles.
And Tempest had been watching from the sidelines.
"If I heard you talking," she seethed, "that witch would never have planted these ideas in your head."
"Weren't you listening? I said they'd made sure you wouldn't have," Starlight snapped. "Fate or not, whether I'm just crazy or those things were a hundred-and-ten-percent serious, they wanted me to hear the facts for myself: my swansong? ...Was for Twilight," she cried, "and I'm, and I'm a... I mean sooner or later, I'm gonna have to be..." She cringed, tracks of glittery purple stars carving down her cheeks, clinging to her chin before dripping unseen unto her lap.
What a petrifying sight. Was it best to try comforting her with a pat on the back? Would that be too presumptuous? Was it even enough? Princess Twilight made it seem as though embraces were a commonality around Equestria, not that Tempest would remember back when she was Fizzlepop Berry—
"I'm sorry," hiccuped Starlight. "I'm really sorry." She moved from her chair, her face becoming increasingly scraggly as she fiercely scrubbed her ruddy cheeks. "I should just go. Thanks for the tea, and your time."
Tempest's eyes shot open.
She bolted up, hoof reaching out for Starlight. "Don't," she ordered as her chair went flying back, clattering off the raised platform her table was set upon. "Please. You shouldn't," she hesitated, thinking, and thanking whatever she ought to for birthing her with a raspberry coat, "leave. You shouldn't leave like this. It's... I would advise against it. There's something more, I can tell." Tempest took her time rounding the table, for Starlight stayed rooted with her back left hoof off the platform. "I've no intention of telling you how to proceed," she continued. "For it's up to you to decide. You, Starlight. Do you grasp the subtext of my words?"
"Y-yes." She bobbed once.
Tempest shook her head, seeing through her. "You sought these crones at the edge of the known world. Put your life on offer to change what everyone but you decided was Twilight's 'fate.' They tell you your purpose is fulfilled, somehow knowing this as fact. And you believe them. Sure." Starlight's eyes hardened, igniting with something Tempest prayed was fire, even as they continued soaking her fur. "But now you're expected to believe this is all you have on offer? That Princess Twilight will discard you like the Storm King did me? No." Tempest shook her head. "She's many things. Naive. Trusting. Ignorant and arrogant..." Starlight's eyes cast down amidst this, eyes wrenched as if knowing this, hating it, and loving it all at once. "But she's also selfless and compassionate. She's the greatest friend anyone can ask for. Even a creature like me can see that."
"I know all of that!" Starlight snapped, voice wrenching from her throat. "It doesn't change the fact that I was right from the start: Twilight's too important to die. Of course her fate wasn't reaching its end any time soon, while I'm...! I was just..." She dropped her face.
Her swaying forelock slowed, then jostled with a swallowed sob.
"To Tartarus with fate," Tempest hissed. "So long as Twilight's your friend, you'll have relevance in her life. And I doubt that'll ever change." She held her breath, waiting, until she loosed it soundlessly.
And Glimmer waved Tempest off like she was nothing, her words just as empty. Wordlessly she turned slower than a pie rotisserie, dropping onto the stone platform. "Thanks," she mumbled. "I mean that. It means a lot to hear you say that, really. But you just... don't get it." Her forehooves folded on her lap. Tempest could only watch, absolutely helpless. Weak. Aimless. "I'm sorry for being a downer, Fizzle, but I don't wanna lie to you. I'm tired of it, of all'a this. And I won't smile like the obvious embarrassment I've been this past week, pretending everything is okay. If everypony can see right through me, you totally can, too."
She gave a sigh worth her entire being, sagging neath the weight of it all. Now she truly looked the miserable little pony. "I'm sorry I came. Maybe a trip to Sugarcube will make me feel better. Stuff my face with ice cream. If I can manage a cone like this, of course." She was in no hurry to go.
But that was it. She was just giving up. This "strong" pony was rolling over and accepting her fate like a foal would.
Like Fizzlepop Berrytwist nearly had.
Memories of that filly, who was so foolish she'd spent her entire life making one mistake after another, each more horrible and unforgivable than the last, exploded perpetually, endlessly in Tempest's chest. Circumstances she ignored and denied and pretended she was in control of came rushing forth as Tempest dove for Starlight, grappling her by the nappy fur of her bosom.
"H-hey! Wh-what the heck!?" Starlight looked frantically upon her kicking hind legs, swinging a foot off the ground thanks to Tempest's stature.
"You've any idea how aggravating it is, to hear you say this crap?" Feeble, panicked little kicks were thrown into Tempest's lean gut. "I wanna beat your brain in every time you've uttered the word 'destiny,'" she snarled, boring into Glimmer's wily gaze, who began kicking harder, panting, whimpering like a weakling. "Let me tell you a little something about destiny. Listen," she snapped, and Starlight slacked, a dead weight in her grasp.
"Listen. I had a lot of ponies come to me, giving what you're now slinging my way. That it wasn't some horrible accident, but fate that made me lose my horn. That it was another road on my path to serving Equestria. They were telling this to a filly, Starlight, a filly. You know what that feels like? To have everyone telling you it's a fine thing your life was ruined?" A rising in her chest, forcing Tempest to choke back a sob.
"Yes," Starlight whispered unexpectedly, the purple stars in her eyes glistening anew. "Sort of. Nopony ever told me, I sort of..." Her silence, her shame, spoke the rest. This poor, brainwashed fool.
"I didn't even have my cutie mark yet." Tempest sniffled, blinking the world back into clarity. "How the hell did they know what I was supposed to do with my life? Huh?"
"B-because that's how it works." Starlight gulped. "It's always how it worked. L-like, you think everything here, around us, is'n accident?" Her wavering smile had collapsed mid-sentence, eyes still wide and unblinking. Tempest looked to her forelegs, the small shocks vibrating within them. She, no, Starlight... both of them were trembling. "It's how it always worked," she heard Starlight utter, "since before you 'r I were born. It's not always a bad thing."
"But it is to us!" Tempest cried, pushing Starlight away. Her heart seized a moment as her friend was sent careening towards the cloaked item. But she was a strong pony, she could take this. "I will not accept that," Tempest seethed over Starlight's grunt on impact. "I refuse. I'm in control of my own fate, me." The thing almost fell on top of her, collapsing clamorously like a wagon full of symbols. "I chose to get that damned ball. I chose to run away! I betrayed my country, I committed treason, I made my own mistakes because I wanted to, not some puppeteer squatting in the woods!"
Tempest's voice broke midway through. She couldn't care less. She didn't care about any of this. Nothing at all. Glimmer was just a stupid pony who knew nothing about the world. She... She...
"Fizzle?" Starlight murmured, and something about it seized Tempest's screaming heart, silencing her beastial panting. "W-what's this all about, i-if you don't mind my asking?"
She knew what it was, and her eyes shot up anyway, baring to Starlight the terror and hate and disgusting loathsome feelings toward herself with utter shamelessness.
All of it directed toward that armor, its wooden stand in two pieces flanking Glimmer's sides.
Before her, molded in the uniqueness of a large pony, but not so large that it could fit either of the Two Sisters, was a set of metal barding. Even under the luster of her bedroom, it gleamed with a purple shine deeper than Twilight Sparkle's own lilac, but the affiliation was obvious at a glance. Easily discernible, it was perfect for social gatherings and travel, should the wearer accompany Twilight to such things. It was tough as diamonds, utterly unbreakable, because Tempest tried. Quality, the kind Tempest only heard in legends. The helmet, held in Starlight's hooves, would lobster the head everywhere but around a pony's muzzle and eyes. A slot crested the back of it for the wearer's mane, not unlike the Royal Guards' uniform.
The set would have covered Tempest from ear to tail, emblazoning her flanks with seven colored gemstones arranged in a circle, echoing the time she once covered her marks with the Storm King's bident.
"Are you," Starlight breathed, gulping, spinning the helmet to face Tempest with its blatant truth, "were you planning on becoming a Royal Guard or something? Did Twilight give you this?"
Of course not. Why would she want an enemy of Equestria guarding her life? It was this castle, this room, the one that "just appeared" the day Tempest arrived, according to Twilight, who only offered because she was too kind not to.
No, the real worst part about all this? She wanted it. They both did, really. Twilight would be more than happy to have her.
Fate seemed to want it.
Tempest remembered feeling sick by the prospect of it all. That everything she ever was and did, all of it, was a big joke. That everything she suffered was to serve some other pony's gain. One that was as sweet as Twilight, no less, who possessed no notion of how offensive this all was.
No. Tempest couldn't spare it a thought right now, let alone a word. Starlight didn't deserve... any of this, taking the brunt of her anger just for seeking the comfort of a friend. There were better ponies than Tempest Shadow anyway. Why Glimmer thought she was the best one to speak with would be a mystery forever.
Trembling, at a loss for words, Tempest could only manage a few before surely exploding. "Get out," she growled like some frothing beast.
A gentle knocking behind her, on the door, made Tempest actually jump. A clatter behind her suggested Starlight did the same, throwing her helmet, the helmet, from her hooves.
"Tempest? Spike says he heard yelling. Are you okay in there?"
Twilight. Tempest's head was midway through turning before turquoise flooded her room for but a moment. She whipped back around, where only wisps of smoke, crackling with blue electricity, lingered about the armor. Both faded into nothing as Twilight knocked again. "Tempest?" she called, increasingly worried.
It was only after she left, assured that Tempest was okay, did she let herself roar into a pillow. What was wrong with her, and more importantly, what had she just done?
Starlight would forgive her. That's who she was. Doubtful, but Fizzle hoped.