Once upon a time, there was a little candle who loved the Sun. The great big Sun was too high up in the sky to see that love as anything but envy, though she spoke not a word of this to the candle. It was only when the candle was thrust into her life did the big burning Sun know the little candle existed at all. The candle was simply delighted to finally be so close to the one they admired most, while the Sun still knew not what to make of the candle.
“Oh hello, Sun!” the candle would say. “Has anypony ever told you that you are so marvelous and bright?”
“Oh goodness,” the Sun would say back, trying to pretend her coronas did not absolutely burst with these acknowledgments of her power. “You mustn’t brag so much about me, because it is little candles like you that truly give me light.”
The candle was too small to fully understand this attitude. Anypony else would have known that without the Sun, they would be doomed, the candle included. There was not an ounce of truth to the words of the Sun, but how could the candle be anything but blind to her dazzling light?
“Big, beautiful Sun,” sighed the little candle, “will you let me stay by your side? I think that there is so much I could learn from you!”
The Sun said nothing, and when the little candle positioned themselves next to the Sun, there was still nothing said. There wasn’t anything the candle thought to doubt about this. They were sure that the sun had many more important things to focus on. But the little candle was just too happy to be by the Sun’s side, and watch her light up the whole world.
The whole world minus the candle.
All the while, the candle continued to diligently burn. They felt important next to the Sun, and they thought that the Sun might think they were important too. But the candle was oblivious to the way the Sun thought. If there was something in the world that impacted many more little lights, then the Sun would not think twice about turning her light away from the devoted little candle that never stopped following her.
However, the candle did not mind. They could not mind. The Sun was just so great and bright, they could not tell the difference when there was any lessened light. They only knew to keep on burning, and vying for the Sun to see them once again.
After the longest time, their relationship was not nearly as bright and happy as it had once been. The candle could no longer hang on the Sun’s every word. Their efforts to get the Sun to notice them were in vain, no matter how much effort they put into their flame. The only warmth came from the feelings contained in their body that drove them to absolutely melt with turmoil.
“My great Sun,” said the little candle, their voice so much louder than it had ever been, “how can I be more like you?”
The Sun’s light flared with surprise. She had not heard the candle speak for the longest time, at least not like this. In fact, she had presumed the little candle had burned out some time ago. In their past attempts to put a burning edge into their words, the candle had always grown quieter afterward and that much easier to forget. The great Sun had the whole world to manage, and one little candle could not be nagging her so all the time. She, the great shining Sun, was always one to allay her worries about the candle by reminding herself of all the good she did.
The Sun brought more than light to the world. She kept the ponies and all other creatures happy. Every candle in the world was so inspired by her that they could not help but be anything but the palest imitation of her light, as was their destiny. The Sun knew her destiny was to be a life-giver, for none could eat and be healthy without her, much less give life to all the little candles dotting the world so far below her. How would all those candles know the blueprints for their destiny if it were not for her?
“Yes, my littlest candle. I am sure you can. Just heed my example and your light will be clear and good. Others shall be guided by it.”
“Mighty Sun, what if I want my own light?” replied the little candle. “What if I wish it to illuminate the best of me and make something of myself?”
“Oh, littlest candle, do not abandon your destiny. You are not the same as me.”
“I know,” retorted the little candle with complete honesty, “but please understand that I still feel like there is so much more I can be. Can’t anypony else understand that we could shine so bright together if only I were more sunlight than mere fire? Shall I never burn beyond this wick?”
The Sun was suddenly silent with her own concern for her little candle, and that was not a concern she could say she had felt before. The little candle’s last question was heavy with the weight of a wax seal upon a letter, and it sounded far too much like the little candle thought it might be better to have never burned than to have burned at all. How criminal, how odd, and this incomprehensible perspective was all that was needed to get the Sun to listen.
But just because the Sun would listen did not mean the Sun would do or obey. Yet, she did not say this. She could not see why it was important, for she sat in the obstructive layers of her own light. Instead, she let the little candle say their piece.
“Sun, I want to be more than bright, I want to shine just like you! Can you not see the way your rays spread out like wings or the majesty of your sunspots?”
“And what does this have to do with you, my little candle? Why can you not be yourself?”
“Surely if I were more like you, then you would love me more?”
The Sun had nothing to say to her candle.
“Is there no way for you to give me the same wings of light that you have?” asked the little candle pleadingly.
“Yes,” answered the Sun hesitantly. “There is a way for you to secure wings like mine. One day, I am sure you will be ready for me to make you some.”
But the Sun could not make wings for any. All the power to shape stars like herself was beyond her control, no matter what creatures and candles thought. Her light wavered with the pity she felt, and it was out of pity she spoke, wanting to offer kindness instead of reality, knowing that she was the only star that many would see. Because the Sun did not know how not to lie.