“I did not guide her all the way to her father.” Fizzle bowed, raising a foreleg. “Partly because I conclude that it would have gone no differently from our previous attempts, and mostly due to the likelihood of my silence doubling her anxiety.”
Her shoulders lifted and lowered, a subtle rhythm Twilight only noticed because she had finally finished. She hid it well, but Twilight knew how to read Fizzlepop after spending hours a day with her for the past month.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Twilight crossed her forelegs, draped over the bed’s side. “I know it’s hard, seeing her continuously fall apart like this.”
“We’re doing our best.” ‘But it isn’t enough,’ her spiteful tone implied.
“I know,” Twilight mumbled, ‘I don’t know if anything will be,’ suggested her pitiful tone. She offered a hoof, saying, “Rise, please, Fizzlepop.”
A shake of the head. One eye opened, pained as it cast a glance toward a wilted-ear Fluttershy and Pinkie before shutting again. “I’m worried she will do something drastic. Her despondence with Sunburst was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. She didn’t look scared or guilty, Princess. She looked like nothing, she looked hollow, and I—” Fizzle’s head shot up, keeping her body low as her eyes betrayed her own forlorn hope. “If I may… have permission to spend the day watching over her. Perhaps even the night.”
“She loves slumber parties.” Pinkie donned a cautious optimism, the kind that would uplift Twilight’s spirit at any other time. “Maybe Starlight wouldn’t think twice. Not with you, Fizzy, she’s been more open with you than any of us these past couple—”
“She won’t accept it.” Twilight stood, staring straight ahead, away from Pinkie’s hurt, Fluttershy’s deepening pity, Fizzle’s downcast eyes. “It’s not that she doesn’t trust you. Or even her friends. Starlight… knowing what I do now, it’s all but certain that she no longer trusts herself around anypony.” If Fizzle hadn’t tagged along with Sunburst and Starlight, she might have given in to Pinkie’s confidence.
“You’re right.” Fizzle had her eyes shut, muzzle lowered. “My friend is in as fragile a state as it is, and unlike her I know myself well enough to second guess how this would play out. I would try to make her feel better. Or talk about it. I would do everything I can to convince her that her fears are imaginary, but she would have none of it. It might lead to her saying something that would break out friendship, regardless of how I dress it.”
“You really think she wouldn’t listen if it came to that?” asked Fluttershy. “Even if you explained your feelings?”
“I…” Fizzle shook her head, her tall, wilted mohawk flouncing with the motion. “I don’t trust my ability to do that without being aggressive—something she doesn’t respond well to, clearly. Besides, it’s likely she’s already written off her friendship with Trixie and Maud. If those two didn’t bear such fresh wounds, I’d bring them over myself and tell them to abandon their hurt for Starlight’s sake. But Glimmer, she would have none of that. The effort would assuredly make things worse, I’m afraid.”
A soul-crushing silence took over, lasted for five seconds before it was too much. “So… that’s it, then.” Twilight swallowed the raspy bug in her throat before flapping away from her bed. She wished Spike wasn’t helping Rarity right now, she could use his wisdom. “Starlight won’t listen to anypony. She refuses to believe that we are worried about her, is convinced that she’s unsalvageable, and is more than content to avoiding ponies for the rest of her life, now. That’s it.”
“What?” Fluttershy hissed painfully. “What are you saying, Twilight?”
What she said replayed itself twice. I think I just wrote off Starlight as a lost cause. Twilight wanted to cry. She should. This was awful and horrible and mostly her fault for being a selfish Princess of Friendship in the first place. “I…” Her voice gave out as a squeaky wheel would. “I don’t know.”
This shouldn’t have been a surprise.
This shouldn’t have been a surprise.
This should not have been that big of a surprise.
Twilight strode by, avoiding eye-contact with everypony. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”
Pink forelegs latched around Twilight and yanked her into a sweet-smelling warmth she lacked the heart to resist. “I thought it was a good idea,” Pinkie squeaked. “I really, really did. I’m sorry for making things—”
“No, don’t, please,” Twilight breathed, shutting her eyes. “If anypony’s to blame, it’s me for worsening the situation by not being honest with Starlight from the start.” I should have told her from the start. When I met her in my bedroom, I should have asked for her motives, why she was so calm about the whole thing. Twilight rolled her aching eyes toward the crystal ceiling of her bedroom. “I thought I was being respectful by not questioning her strength, when it was the most glaring warning sign in the world. I gave her a poor impression of what I wanted, and everything that followed was a result of this thoughtless, idiotic need to cleanse myself of any guilt! And I know, girls, I know we’ve spoken at length about why she did this, that it wasn’t me, that she was possessed by this crazy notion that she had been burdensome on my life. But… it’s a friend’s job to notice these troublesome signs before they fester as they have now. I think about her, and I can’t help but wonder what I should have done differently. What I should have said in all those times she prattled on about her mistakes and her guilt. Instead of saying, ‘you’re okay,’ ‘they’ve forgiven you,’ I should have met her halfway and opened a dialogue for her to talk. I should have proved to her that I was willing to talk instead of just telling her she could. But I… I didn’t want to be… weird. I didn’t want to be nagging, or make her uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have been so self-centered. So afraid. I should have realized all those times she thanked me, all those refusals to accompany us on our daily hijinks, all these signs indicative of something more, and I noticed none of them!”
“Oh, Twilight.” Fluttershy hugged her from the side, Fizzlepop flanking the other, pressing her broken horn in Twilight’s mane. She was in a cocoon of love—something nopony had ever given Starlight in all her years living here. She almost always pushed away hugs when they were initiated by somepony else—Starlight, that is. Twilight was a fool to write those off as her not being that kind of pony, embarrassed in private for assuming her new friend was as affectionate as the girls who became her special clique.
Twilight was so blind. She was so afraid. “I was a fool for taking on a student. I had no experience, no business trying to become the rock a troubled pony like Starlight so clearly needed.” She needed a professional, if such a thing existed for a pony existed. Desperate research after the Gourd Fest proved otherwise, but Twilight hoped in a miracle avenue that didn’t involve those witches.
And then a horrible thought stopped her cold.
She tuned in to Pinkie saying, “You’re amazing, Twilight. I think ya just need to pour your heart out to Starlight, all messy and sad like this. It’s honest, and she needs ponies to be honest with her, badly.”
Like she would even want to hear a word from Twilight now, ignoring her current state of mind.
“Um, Pinkie,” Fluttershy began, Fizzle finishing, “Perhaps, but now isn’t the time. Trust me, Princess,” she murmured, pulling away with big, glimmering eyes. “I’d love nothing more than to encourage this, but I’m familiar with her state of mind. She’ll do nothing but push you away, and you’ll push back with equal self-assurance that you’re in the right. It’ll be the brunch after the Gourd Fest all over again.”
Starlight hated herself. She always had and she only felt worse. “I’ve given her a month,” Twilight cried. “An entire MONTH! If we can’t talk now—!”
“She’ll be around tomorrow,” Pinkie quickly reassured. “Gives you two time to cool off!”
Twilight gasped a sob, massaging an ache well beyond her hoof’s reach. “I can’t stand the thought of her sitting there, all alone.” The thought of it, everything that happened… The horrible notion Twilight got about the witches returned to haunt her. “I can’t stand this anymore! If Starlight went and did something senseless—”
Fizzle rose. “Okay. Alright, I’ll go and—”
“What if she tries to see the witches again?” Pinkie held even tighter, as if that would prevent her from teleporting over. “What if she offers them something more to get us to forget about her?!” The thought was so terrible that she cried out. “Oh, gosh, what do we do? What can I do?”
Silence.
“What can I do, girls?!”
Horrible, crushing silence.
“Girls! What do I do?!” All eyes avoided hers, far away in useless thought. “I’m…” A pitiful sob slipped through. “I’m so lost. I’m lost if I lose her and I’m lost if I do nothing.” Did they even have anything anymore?
Did Starlight just hate her now? Was that what she thought underneath all those painfully awkward breakfasts and dinners?”
“I don’t—” Twilight gasped. “I don’t know…” Her breast heaved, her vision blurred. “What to do anymore, I don’t know anymore, I don’t, I don’t…” Nothing except cry, apparently. Twilight gave into it in full, especially as Fizzlepop abandoned restraint and nuzzled her behind the ear, and Fluttershy renewed her hug.
The Princess of Friendship, Twilight Sparkle: her life was saved by a friend who probably regretted it every waking moment, and hated herself for it.
What did she do to deserve these wings? These friends, this castle? Tutelage under Celestia herself?
If she couldn’t help this sweet, scared little pony now, if she never had in the first place…
“What good…”
“...is my life?”
Starlight staggered away from the tilting door to Twilight’s bedchamber. Something ached, something hard trying to get out. Breathing. She gasped, gasped, and gasped. I need to keep breathing.
I need to…
“I’m just so tired of all of this,” Twilight mumbled.
Starlight needed to leave. Right now.
She had come to apologize. How and with what, she didn’t even consider. She just galloped, chasing this fleeting hope that maybe, hopefully, everything could be solved in a single conversation.
She would drop on her knees, she had decided. I won’t be selfish anymore. I’ll face my fear and apologize! Upon reaching Twilight’s door, and hearing a low voice mumbling on the other side, Starlight had hesitated. How dare she barge in on them when they were having a moment?
But then Twilight started to cry. Horribly.
She was wailing. Starlight reduced her mentor and friend to this with her thoughtless, poisonous behavior.
And it didn’t stop. Only a moment, where she questioned the worth of her life like Starlight often had. She… she is upset with me. She is tired of me. And worst of all… most horribly of all…
She brought Twilight to her level. She made the Princess of Friendship feel as bad as the most broken pony in all of Equestria. And the only reason she didn’t tell Starlight to take a hike was because she was Twilight, and she never, ever would.
Starlight, too, didn’t know what to do now. She just stood there, gawking at the crying she caused behind the princess’s door, in the princess’s castle, which she lived off of for years and gave nothing but misery and hardship in return.
Go. Starlight’s hooves stood rooted to the carpet, tethered to useless, trembling legs. Was it hunger? Fear? Guilt?
Starlight should apologize.
But she would make things worse. She already thinks I’d go back to those monsters. Maybe I should—Starlight should go, that much was clear now.
But she wouldn’t move.
Twilight would never accept her just up and leaving like that.
If only there was another… Wait. Her heart stopped cold, a brilliant idea came to mind. If this is really it, if I’m really doing this, there’s only one way I can pull this off with none being the wiser—
A clap of thunder shot her to attention.
There was another, and another directly behind her, followed by another, and another, and another-nother-nother—Starlight whipped around, and was met with a Celestia-sized mountain of flesh, draped in a royal blue, with a handkerchief to match concealing what had to be a horrible mouth.
Hydia slammed her warty paws together, over and over and over. “dOn’T mInD mE,” she chirped. “JuSt EnJoYiNg ThE mOmEnT.”
Her eyes betrayed nothing, black, scab-edged pits betraying nothing. Starlight lacked the energy to feel horrified by the fact that she was numb to her appearance. Maybe it was after being groped by her sick daughters. Maybe it was the fact that she realized, once again, she was being a naive foal barreling thoughtlessly into what would’ve been another disaster.
“There isn’t going to be a moment,” Starlight informed her, assuming this conversation would be muffled to the rest of the world. “You heard her. If I barged in there, feeble apology in-hoof, she’d have thrown it back in my face for all the trouble I’ve caused her.”
Hydia spread her arms, heavy flesh nearly sagging to her waist. “HeY, aT lEaSt SoMeThINg StUCk FrOm DaDdY, pUnKy-WuMpKiNs.” Her teasing wobbled through the air, snaking round Starlight’s brain as though spoken directly in her ears.
“If you’re trying to make me feel embarrassed, you’re gonna have to try harder to make me care right now.” Starlight dropped her head, just to keep what little food she ate today—tea, that is—burrowed in her gut. “But, hey, you’re not wrong. Dad told me that I have the power to fix my mistakes, grow, and change. I came promising myself one thing: that I wouldn’t be selfish anymore. That’s not changed in the slightest, far as I can see.”
“oH? aNd WhAt HaS?”
Her reason for being here was all the more apparent. Starlight lifted her head, forced herself to look Hydia in her nonexistent eyes, as if she even needed them to see the gut-knotting terror shuddering down her forelegs.
“I-I’ve thought about this, for a while,” she said, swallowing her trepidation. “What you told me at Flutter Valley—you and your daughters, or whatever the heck you are, if you’re even a set of three, or one split into many, or something in between.” Hydia was still as a statue, palms upturned to the heavens, her heavens. “Part of me’s always expected this, but like always, I’ve fought hard to deny myself the reality of my mistakes. And it got to a boiling point that burned the ponies I still love, despite the deal we’ve made.”
Hydia’s arms lowered to her broad hips. “YoU’vE aLwAyS bEeN bRiLlIaNt WhEn It MaTtErS mOsT,” she echoed, almost sounding fond of Starlight’s blunderings. Sincere or not, her opinion was the last Starlight cared about.
“That’s right,” she said. “It finally clicked in my incredibly thick, hornless skull—’that which you treasure most,’ it isn’t my horn. Your daughters spoiled the surprise, I’m afraid. I thought they were lying for a while, hoped, really. But one thing you guys have been consistent on was your sincerity. And your knowledge. It’s cleverly worded, the things you share, but I suppose watching your victims squirm is part of the fun.”
“iT hAs ItS mOmEnTs.”
“Yep. I’m sure it does. But I’m not twisting in the wind anymore: it’s clear now, more than ever, what it is I traded in exchange for Twilight’s life.” Starlight almost said that she was happy about it, but she was done lying to herself, tricking herself. “I’m fine with it.”
“YeS,” hissed the monster, upturning a palm with the care one would give a glass statue. In an instant the glistening warmth of the corridor evaporated, the crystal mobiles’ prismatic luster dimming, plunging them both in an abyss Starlight’s gut felt at home within at once.
Only for the mottled, harsh topography of Hydia’s pocked face and hand to be bathed in a blinding burst of turquoise flame, wreathing a thick chain of thirteen links, each boasting a dull, specific color.
“OuR bUsIneSs Is FiNaLlY aT aN eNd.” With a clench of her fist, a link at the end, colored pink, shattered with a heartthrobbing twang. “bY dEsTiNy’S WiLL, tHe BoNd Is BrOkEn fOReVeR. aNd yOu WiLL oNlY kNoW hEaRtBrEaK tO tHe EnD oF yOuR dAyS.”
The shadows speckling Hydia’s hideous mug shuddered wildly.
Starlight’s heart thundered in her chest.
It hadn’t stopped since hearing Twilight’s words.
This was it. This was it.
She knew it was coming but she denied this outcome every day with. The only path now was forward, to a future she had no hope of changing, no matter how much confidence Daddy instilled in her, regardless of all the sweet words her friends lied about for her sake.
This was the reality, and it was happening, and had happened long before Starlight met Twilight, and this whole roller coaster of a life she loved so dearly had begun.
“Alright, then.” Starlight swallowed. “May I go now?”
And then Hydia did something Starlight never expected to see: she straightened, a flinch if nothing else. For a second, she had zero clue as to what was about to happen.
“YoU kNoW,” Hydia mumbled, “I’vE hAtEd PoNieS aLL mY lIfE. wItH eVeRy FiBeR oF mY bEiNg. yOu’Re PrEdIctAbLe. PeTtY. DeStRuCtAbLy cHiLDiSh At HeArT.” The flame dissipated, and the corridor returned to light. “BuT dEsPiTe HaViNg SeEn ThIs CoMiNg… I LiKe YoU, sTaRlIGht gLImMeR. yOu’Re GoInG tO dO fInE wOrK, i CaN tEll.”
Starlight shut her eyes, an ache blossoming beneath her broken horn. “Just get out of here already,” she mumbled.
There was no response.
And when she returned to reality, Starlight found herself alone.
She wanted to waste not a second longer setting things right. A final look back at Princess Twilight’s door brought tears to her eyes, and half a moment of hesitation, hope, regret, and finally, the hardening of her heart.
Time to make a trip to the Mirror Pool. Starlight bit her tongue as she broke into a hard gallop, bit even harder as she powering through the tired ache in her joints, the emptiness in her gut, the coppery tang in her mouth and the fragmented shards of her soul.
The memories of what she so thoughtlessly gave up to the Witches of Flutter Valley were not so easily ignored.
But Starlight was going to make things right, and she wouldn’t dare let herself shed tears over it.
Not a single one.