Celestia XVII: The Broken Princess

by brokenimage321


11: "Fun With Dick And Jane"

“Jane said, ‘Run, run. Run, Dick, run.’”

I looked out the window of the train. I hummed to myself. The trees rolled past me. 

I was going to Ponyville. I was tired of Canterlot. I was going to spend time with Twilight. It was going to be fun. 

I looked around. No one wanted to sit next to me. They looked at me with big, scared eyes. But I didn’t care. That meant I got the seat to myself. 

Something caught my eye. I looked over. A little filly sat next to her mom. The filly was staring at me. Probably because I had those cool scars on my shoulders. Mom saw me look at the filly. She grabbed her and pulled her away. I sniffed and put my nose in the air. 

But I got bored. So I looked out the window. I saw more trees. Out in the distance, I saw the clouds. The ones over Canterlot. They were swirling in a circle over the Palace. And they shot bolts of purple lightning. I thought they were neat. 

And then I saw my reflection in the window. My mane and coat had all turned a pretty gray color. 

I smiled. I liked it. 

* * *

I was first off the train. I had to push the mare and the filly aside to get to the door before them. I was more important than them. They could wait. 

I pranced out into the sunshine. I took a deep breath of air. It smelled like Freedom. 

Someone bumped into me. 

“Watch where you’re going,” I snarled. 

The pony looked back at me, eyes wide. His saddlebags were full, and he had two little foals with him. The colt looked like he was about to cry. And the filly was holding her doll tight. 

“You almost knocked me over,” I snapped. 

“‘Scuse me,” he mumbled. 

“No,” I spat. “No, you are not excused.”

The filly looked up at me. I glared back at her. She turned away. And then she tugged on her dad’s saddlebags. 

“Is Mama going to be okay?” she asked. “With that monster an’ everything?”

“No one cares, ” I hissed. “Not with a kid as rotten as you.” I turned and flounced away. “I hope she dies,” I called back over my shoulder.  I didn’t even care that the filly had started crying. They had almost ruined my perfect day. And nothing was going to ruin my day. 

I was going to see Twilight. And we were going to do everything I wanted. Because we were going to be friends again. Just like old times. 

* * *

Getting into the library was hard. Twilight wasn’t home yet. And the library was closed for some reason. 

I wanted to use my wings to fly up. Twilight never kept her balcony locked. So I could sneak in that way. But Discord had taken my wings away. I thought he had done it when we had gone into the maze. But he hadn’t. I think he had used some sort of magic to make me think he had taken them. But when I had given him the Sun Stone, they fell off for real. It hurt. Bad.

But that didn’t matter anymore. Now I was free. And Twilight and I would be friends again. 

I tried the door handle. But it wouldn’t open. So I used my horn and blew a hole in it. It swung open just fine. 

The library was dark. But I knew my way. I walked up the stairs to Twilight’s apartment and pushed open the door. I stepped inside and looked around.

* * *

The door banged open. I jumped a little. But I turned around. 

Twilight stood in the doorway. Her glasses were crooked. She looked mad and tired. I smiled when I saw her.

Behind her were her Ponyville friends. I frowned. Twilight was still purple. But all her friends had turned gray, too. They were trying to steal my look. I opened my mouth to tell them to quit it. 
 
But Twilight spoke first. 

“What,” she said, “in the name of Tartarus are you doing to my room?!”

“Redecorating,” I said. 

Twilight’s eyes got big. That meant she liked it. 

“Finally,” said the gray one with the long mane, “someone’s cleaning up the mess you made of the place.” 

Twilight looked at her, then walked into the room. The others tried to follow, but Twilight slammed the door in their faces. She turned and looked at me. Her glasses were hanging off her face.

“I’m glad you like it,” I said. “I’ve been working hard. I threw out all the papers you had on your desk. And I put all your books back in the library. Now your desk is clean. Just like it should be!”

Twilight looked at her nice, clean desk. Then she looked back up at me. 

“My books?” she repeated. “My papers? You—you cleaned them?”

“M-hm! Just the way I like it!” I said happily. Then I cocked my head. “You organize things really weird, did you know that?”

Twilight looked around the room, then shook her head and looked back at me. I blinked. Her eyes didn’t look happy. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “And what happened to your wings?” she added.  

I cocked my head again. “I’m cleaning! Just like I said!” 

Twilight frowned, and her glasses slipped lower on her face. 

“You know what I mean,” she said. “What are you doing here? And why now?” 

My smile got a little smaller. Her question didn’t make any sense. 

“Well,” I said, “this is where you live, isn’t it? Where else would I find you?”

Twilight opened her mouth. And she leaned forward. She looked like a fish gasping for water. She made me giggle. 

“F-find me?” she repeated. “We’ve been looking for you for hours—e-ever since you left us at the maze. Ponies were saying you hopped on the first train south. Thought you might be running for Mexicolt. B-but you just came back here?”

“Yep!” I said happily. “And now that you’re here, think of how much fun we can have!” I trotted up to her and grabbed her by the forehooves. “We can have sleepovers, and talk about colts, and write each other notes, and all that stuff we used to do when we were fillies!” 

I picked her up and hugged her close in my arms, then spun around the room. 

“Just you and me, Twilight!” I said. “No Aunt Luna, no parents, no responsibilities… just you and me, like things used to be!”

“No.”

I stopped, then looked down at Twilight. “Enh?” I said. 

Twilight looked up at me. Her eyes definitely weren’t happy now.

“No,” she repeated. She pushed at me, and I dropped her. She stood there, breathing hard. 
“Things are never going back to the way they used to be,” she said. 

“Why not?” I asked. “We had so much fun! And we were best friends! Why don’t you want things to be like that again?” I cocked my head. “Wait a minute,” I said. “Is this about the wedding?”

Twilight made a face. “Of course it’s about the wedding.”

“Oh, good,” I said. “I get why you’ve been acting so weird now.”

“You do, huh?” Twilight said. 

I nodded. “Yeah, totally. Don’t worry,” I added, “I used to hate myself, too.”

Twilight opened her mouth to speak, but then she stopped and looked up at me, her eyes big and wide. 

“Huh?” she said. 

“Oh, yeah,” I continued. “I was Princess. I was supposed to take care of everypony. Make sure they were all safe, and all that. But I didn’t. The Changelings invaded on my watch. And I’ve been beating myself up for that ever since. So don’t worry about hating me for that,” I said. “I used to hate myself for that, too.”

Twilight looked confused for a second. “Used to?” she said. “What changed?”

I shrugged. “I don’t care anymore,” I said. “You should try not caring, too, Twilight,” I added. “That might help your mood a bit.”

Twilight just stared at me. 

“I mean,” I said, “you’ve been so cranky lately. I don’t blame you for being unhappy, all the way out here, without—”

“I am happy,” she growled. “Happier than I’ve ever been.” 

“How?” I asked. “Without your best friend around, how can you be happy?” I scoffed. “I mean, these country bumpkins can’t be real friends, can they—?”

“Celestia,” she said, “shut the fuck up.”

I stopped talking. And closed my mouth. Twilight took a deep breath, then shook her head. Her glasses fell to the floor. She took a step towards me. She stepped on her glasses, and they broke. I almost told her that, but she poked me in the chest with her hoof. 

“They’re better friends than you could ever be,” she spat. “They love me. They’re not selfish—they care about me. When I’m with them, I’m not a sidekick. I’m not a fashion accessory. I’m a real pony, for the first damn time in my life. And I’m never going back.”

I scoffed. I was not selfish. Now she was just being mean, making up excuses. 

“I never treated you like a sidekick,” I said. “I always—”

“Oh yeah?” she shot back. “When have you ever listened to me? Really?” 

“All the time—” I began

Twilight snarled. She reared up, grabbed my mane in her teeth, and yanked, pulling my head down to her level. I cried out. 

“What classes am I taking?” she hissed, fires burning bright in her eyes. “Where am I applying to go to college? What do I want to major in?” 

I tried to pull away, but she was standing on my mane now. Her eyes were level with mine. Tears ran down my cheek. 

“C-Canterlot Community College,” I stammered. “Y-you want to be an accountant. S-s-so you can come back and work at the P-Palace. With me.”

“No no NO!” Twilight bellowed, sparks shooting from her horn. I’m taking history! And math! I’m applying to Stampford! I want to teach!” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” I whined. 

“Everything,” she snarled. “You are a selfish, self-centered, stuck-up excuse for a friend. You talk about how good friends we are—when’s the last time you wrote me a letter about anything other than yourself? When have you ever listened to me? About anything?

I swung my head and pushed her away, off of my mane. “Blueblood’s wedding,” I said. “I-I let you help decorate…”

“Blueblood’s Wedding,” she repeated, disdain dripping from every word. “Do you even remember what you did at the wedding?” 

“I told you,” I whined, “I let all the Changelings attack. Isn’t that enough?”

Twilight stared up at me for a long moment. A hot, angry tear ran down her cheek. “You don’t even remember, do you.”

It wasn’t a question. I just swallowed in reply. 

“I came to you in the middle of the rehearsal,” Twilight began. She spoke every syllable with the deliberate care she would have used loading bullets into a gun. “I tried to pull you aside and talk quietly. I had evidence—written evidence. Letters that contradicted what Blueblood was telling the decorators. Drawings of how Rarity wanted the ballroom set up. Dates, times, and descriptions of every time the two of them had acted strange or out-of-character. I wanted to do something, quietly, to keep everything safe and under wraps. And do you know what you did?”

My eyes grew wide. I was starting to remember. “No,” I whispered—not an answer, a plea.

“You took my notes and threw them on a seat,” she continued. Tears were streaming down her face. “You didn’t even look at them. Just—threw them down. And Blueblood, he—he turned to you, and asked what was up. I tried to answer, but you cut me off. You said, loud enough for everyone to hear—” she stopped, sniffled, and looked up at me, her eyes brimming with fire and water. “—‘It’s nothing,’ you said. ‘Just Twi being paranoid again. Ignore her.’”

“I… I didn’t mean…” I began.

“Yes you did,” she spat. “Every word of it. That’s all I’ve ever been to you. Paranoid. Bookish. Reclusive. You never appreciated me. You never said Thanks, Twilight, or Good job, Twilight or even just Golly gee, maybe all your research is right, Twilight—we had been good friends, once, and that meant that you could do anything you wanted to me, and I would just take it. But no more,” she said, stamping her hoof. “I have real friends now. Friends who show me what true friendship is like.” She took a slow step towards me, and I backed away. “Friends who care about me for who I am.” She took another step forward, and I backpedaled. “Friends who don’t ignore me when I have something important to say.” Another step. “Friends who don’t insult me in front of everyone I’ve ever cared about, just because I have something important to say.

I backed into the wall and yelped. I looked down at Twilight. She looked sad—no, not sad, furious

“Twi,” I gasped, “I’m so sorry—”

“Shut up,” she snarled. “You never said sorry before. Don’t you dare apologize now.” 

“Twilight—” I choked out. Something was wrong here, something bigger—

She opened her eyes, then peered up into my face. “You say you’re my best friend?” she said. “I say you’re the worst friend I’ve ever had.

In the sudden, ringing silence, the two of us stared at each other.

“Twi,” I breathed, “do you really mean that?”

Her eyes widened the slightest degree, and she looked away. For just a moment, I thought I could start breathing again—but then, she set her jaw. Slowly, she turned back and stared me in the eye, her gaze razor-focused on me, despite her lack of glasses. 

“I do,” she said. 

And, as I watched, something strange happened. I saw it first in her eyes: the flames grew a little dimmer, just a degree or two. Then her snarl relaxed the slightest bit. And then, her shoulders sagged. 

And then I saw it. At the very tip of her tail, and at the bottom of her hooves, a light was gathering. It started to move up her legs and tail, and, where it had passed, her coat had turned from purple to stone gray. 

“Twilight, no!” I cried.

She just looked away and closed her eyes. 

Soon, the light was at her chest. Then her neck. Then it washed up and over her face. Before I could even breathe, the pony in front of me was no longer the Twilight I knew. 

And suddenly, as I watched her, my knees started to tremble. Though I was standing still, I had the sudden impression that I was surging upwards, fighting my way out of a deep, dark bog towards the surface. I gasped—not in surprise or horror, but because it felt like, for the first time in weeks, I could breathe again. Like someone had been holding my head underwater, and only now let me come up for air. I shook my head, and the lingering trails of fog in my brain dissipated. 

I looked down at my hooves and nearly shouted for joy. My coat had turned white again. I was me. I was my own pony again! I could—!

But then, the memories started to trickle back. I began to remember. No, not remember—I had never forgotten. Never forgotten every awful, terrible, evil thing I had done when I wasn’t… when I wasn’t myself. I had— 

Oh—oh Harmony, what had I done?

Slowly, I turned to look at Twilight. She still stood where I had left her, stone-gray, looking down at her hooves. And suddenly, I felt like I was going to vomit.

I took a halting step forward. 

“Twilight—” I began.

Twilight didn’t turn to look at me. “Go away,” she said. 

“No, Twi—” I repeated. 

“Just go,” she said. Her voice was low and quiet, but still hard and sharp. “I don’t ever want to see you again. I don’t want to see anyone. I want to be alone.” She took a breath. “Just like I always have been.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. I watched her for a moment, then turned and walked slowly from the room. I turned back and looked inside before I closed the door, and what I saw made my heart jump into my throat: Twilight, turned gray, standing exactly where I had left her, her broken glasses still at her hooves.