"Shit."
Dusk stumbled back, his weight nearly coming out from under him as his foot slipped across the surface of a moss-covered rock.
"Knew that was a bad idea, knew it, knew it," he growled in a wavering voice, awkwardly staggering through the rocky landscape as he tried to make his way back to the trail. "Gonna end up breaking something here."
His ankles threatened to give out at any second as he made his way back over the rocks, his 'shortcut' from the raised hill-trail having gone up in smoke spectacularly. Gritting his teeth in irritation, he snapped his fingers and conjured up the map of the area from his pocket. Eyeing the area of the forest he was in, his location marked thanks to a handy indicator spell Celestia had taught him in one of their earliest orienteering classes, he angrily swished his index finger over the map where the rocks were.
Purple ink splayed onto the page as he did so, an almost-aggressive X marking the spot, followed by another series of words appearing as he continued to 'draw' with his magic.
'Avoid at all costs, ankles are too precious' the note read.
With a firm and subtle nod, the purple words floating over the X ran into it, like water draining from a bath. If he were to tap the X again with the revealing spell, the words would flood out of the spot and back onto the page again to be readable. A method Celestia had taught him for making notes on maps without losing vital space on the page.
With an angry sigh and a cross of his arms, Dusk began studying the other routes. His eyes glanced across all the Xs he'd left previously, notes aplenty stored in the condition of trails, bridges, and all other things that were involved with the hiking location. His task of checking the safety of the trails was nearly finished, and all he had left to do was check one last bridge just over the hill, the thing he was trying to avoid with his shortcut.
Once that was done, all he needed to do was return the map to the local ranger's office, debrief them on the issues, and let them get to fixing it whenever they got time. So with that in mind and the will to snap his dainty little legs far behind him, he made his way up the hill and down the trail to the bridge. The thing was a simple wooden construction over a decently shallow river. It had no chance of dragging entire families to the cold, dark abyss if it gave way, but safety standards were safety standards. Whether a failure in the bridge would cause a broken leg or an apocalypse, it needed to be kept in good shape.
He came over the crest of the hill just as he heard a barely-audible splash, immediately followed by a load groan of frustration. His ears perked at the sound and a worried feeling cropped up in his gut, picking up his pace just a tad as he felt concerned someone had just been dragged to the cold, dark abyss. His eyes locked onto the bridge as it came into view, and a quiet sigh of relief spilled from his maw as he saw it still intact.
Though that feeling of worry was soon replaced with concern as he spotted an insanely-familiar figure leaning over the edge of the bridge with their head in their hands. The striking purple-and-pink hue and crisp white of their appearance gave away the identity immediately, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets as he headed over to them.
"Sweetie?" he called out, her voice startling her a tad as he spoke.
She shot up briefly, eyes looking around for the source of the noise, only for her pure-green gaze to settle on him. The alarm drained out of her when recognising the familiar face and her shoulders slumped back downwards once more.
"Oh. Hey, Dusk," she sighed with a half-hearted wave.
The lack of her usual peppy and upbeat attitude hit him like a truck. Even as she and her friends had aged into their late teens, they'd still maintained their usual hyper attitudes and eternal smiles. Seeing Sweetie here this downcast was quite the change of pace, and not something he liked.
"What's the matter?" he asked softly, coming to a stop next to her and leaning against the bridge's railing.
"Ah... nothing much," she shrugged, her eyes turning away from his to look at the water again.
"Do you want me to walk away and come back so you can try again with a better lie this time?" he questioned, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.
"I'm not lying," she responded, still not meeting his gaze again. "I've just got a bit of a cold, is all. That's why I'm acting down."
"Right. A better lie, but not a great one," Dusk shrugged casually, turning his body to lean over the railing and rest his elbows on it, just as Sweetie was doing. "You gave the problem away yourself. I hadn't asked you if you were feeling down. I hadn't asked anything specifically. You just told me you're feeling down with that one."
"I..." Sweetie began, casting a sideways glance at Dusk's shoulder before sighing loudly. "Shit."
"There we go. So, d'you wanna tell me what's wrong now?" he chuckled.
"It's... I..." she began, struggling to find the words before shaking her head dismissively. "You wouldn't get it."
"Boy, if I had a bit for every time I've heard that one," he responded with a soft smile and a slow nod. "I kind of earned my title dealing with people who said I 'wouldn't get it', Sweets. I've dealt with a lot of problems from a lot of people. Seen and done a lot in my time. Try letting me know what the problem is, and then we'll decide if I don't get it or not, alright?"
She pushed away from the railing, skulking over to the other side of the bridge and leaning against it with her arms folded over her chest. She pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose, clearly agitated and upset, either over what Dusk had just said to her, or over what she was about to admit. He leaned back against the railing to look at her, elbows resting on the firm, warm, and well-worn wood of the construct, waiting for her response.
"You really wouldn't get it," she repeated. "You're too... perfect."
"Wow. High praise," Dusk nodded, looking at the ground as he spoke. "Completely wrong, though, but I appreciate the sentiment. Makes me feel better at least. So are you going to tell me what's wrong so I can see if I can help or not?"
Sweetie's eyes hardened again, her grip against her sides increasing in agitation, before a sigh fell from her maw.
"We had an exam last week... at school, that is," she began. "Big one, huge importance, and everyone that got the highest grades gets to go on this big weekend trip."
"Yeah, I've heard about that. The, what is it, the... Golden Yard Aptitude Exam or something?" he nodded, scratching the back of his neck. "Heard it's a bastard to pass."
"Yeah, only the best of the best get through it..." Sweetie growled, her jaw tensing again.
Dusk thought about it for a moment, mind flashing over Sweetie, the test, the animosity over it... and to one other person he knew had taken it before and had passed with flying colours. It was a bit early to start making assumptions... but he had a theory about what Sweetie's dourness was being caused by. He just needed to see if it was true.
"Anyone in your year pass it?" he asked.
"Of course. Bunch of eggheads got it easy... I wanted to be one of them," she continued. "I spent literally weeks revising hours and hours a day to pass this thing. Even borrowed this 'golden cheat sheet' revision book we had lying around-"
-he knew exactly who's book that was-
"-and I went into this thing last week thinking I had it," she finished, a hefty sigh falling once again.
"Missed it by a hair?" he asked quietly.
"More like a fucking mile," Sweetie snarled, eyes lighting up angrily as she turned away from Dusk. "All of that time, all of that effort, and it was all a complete fucking waste. I busted my ass studying for this..."
"Sweetie, this exam's an absolute ball-buster that only the top one percent of the academic populace can pass," Dusk explained calmly. "You're a smart mare, but even the smartest mares in the world can't just waltz through this thing."
"Rarity did," Sweetie spat. "Because Rarity can do everything."
And there it was. Dusk had the smallest of inklings that this was where it was going to go, but here Sweetie was displaying it nice and early.
"You know everyone thinks she's a ditz, right?" Sweetie asked, whirling around with her eyes alight in anger. "Every third guy that talks about her says she's nothing more than some dopey fashion skank that only got where she is because she's pretty and can stitch well."
"Which is complete nonsense, I can assure you," Dusk nodded.
"Oh, you don't need to tell me that," Sweetie growled. "I've seen it. I've lived it. She focuses on fashion, and dresses, and all that glitzy shit, but that mare is some kind secret genius at everything she tries. She's perfect at everything. Always has been. Stitching, writing, singing, dancing, debating, public speaking... she does everything so perfectly and she's fucking amazing..."
Dusk waited a second to speak after Sweetie trailed off, her hands balling into fists and her entire body shaking. A second ticked past into two, then three, and then Dusk decided to speak.
"Sibling rivalry, then?" he suggested. "You angry at her because of jealousy?"
Sweetie's eyes snapped open, shaking her head furiously as her anger simmered down and was replaced with some kind of guilt.
"N-No, I don't mean it like that!" she exclaimed. "I'm not mad at Rarity for any of this. It's not her fault she's... she's perfect. I love Rarity more than anything, she's my best friend and she's my fucking hero. I wanna be just like her but... I just... I can't."
"Ah," he said with a slow nod. "I've seen this kind of thing before."
"Yeah, I bet you have," Sweetie growled, her anger cropping up again. "But you've never had it, right? Because you've always been the better sibling. You've always been the one with the accolades, and the royal education, and the adventures. Everything you've ever done you've been great at!"
She'd gotten herself lost in her anger again, eyes alight, horn crackling, and her entire body trembling from head to toe in fury as her emotions ran away with her. Dusk allowed her to speak, allowed her to vent, and allowed her to wring herself of all of her rage before he opened his mouth.
"Can I tell you a story about when I was growing up with Gleam?" he asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking up at the sky. "It's not a long one, but I think it'll help."
"I..." Sweetie began, confused at first before nodding slowly. "I guess?"
"So, you know how a running gag is that doctor's have terrible handwriting?" he began, lowering his eyes back to Sweetie.
"I... I guess?" she shrugged.
"A lot of people theorise it's because they're so intelligent that their brains conjure sentences faster than their hands can keep up with, so the writing comes out as terrible," Dusk continued. "That's how Celestia explained to me that's why my handwriting is atrocious."
Sweetie remained silent as Dusk continued, wondering where he was going with this.
"My handwriting was almost unreadable for anyone when I was a kid, and if I came back to it a week later, I couldn't tell what I'd written," he explained. "But Gleam never had that problem. Her handwriting was beautiful. By the time she was about nine years old, she could write in perfect cursive. It looked fantastic, honestly, real professional stuff."
He gestured to himself briefly, fingers touching his chest.
"I couldn't do that. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I practiced, it just couldn't look like that. It wouldn't," the Alicorn spoke. "I used to scream, and cry, and tear up everything I'd written as a kid because it wasn't as good as Gleaming's. I used to look at her letters all the time, used to watch how she did them, and despised I couldn't do it as well as she could. But while I was paying attention to that, wanna know what I was missing?"
"What?" Sweetie asked, her anger having settled as she listened to his tale.
"Gleam's grammar was horrible. She was one of those people who didn't know the difference between the three 'there's', she never capitalised everything, had so many run-on sentences that you'd thought she was allergic to using periods, and so many other mistakes," the story went on. "Honestly, she was a horrible writer and still is to this day. I was better at writing when I was eight than she was when she was fourteen. But I didn't see that. All I saw was what she could do that I couldn't."
Sweetie's eyes turned down for a brief moment.
"Another story about us growing up," Dusk said, rolling his shoulder as he spoke. "She was a sports champion. Everything she tried, she excelled at. You know Gleam, you've met her before, nearly seven feet tall, built like a brick shithouse, she could do anything. Baseball, basketball, hockey, rugby, football, boxing, wrestling, soccer, you name it. She was at the top of every team she played for within weeks of signing up. Me on the other hand..."
"You sucked at sports?" Sweetie asked.
"Like you wouldn't believe. Every sport I ever touched, I either had two left feet, played without using my thumbs, couldn't figure out where to position myself, and got thrown around like a fresh fish at a cod market. I was so beyond awful at sports that people asked me why I kept trying to do any of them," he nodded.
"Why... why did you?" Sweetie queried.
"Because she did," he responded, raising a finger. "Because Gleam was perfect at every sport she ever played, and I wanted to be half as good as she was. Felt like I couldn't show my face in gym class or any sporting event because everyone would look at me and think of her. I'd think they'd talk behind my back, call me worthless, say Gleam must be embarrassed to be related to me, that my parents raised one winner and one complete loser and it must be so shameful for them to have to watch my games."
"Did they?" came the question.
"Didn't hear it from a soul, Sweetie. Not from my friends, my teachers, my parents, anyone. People were confused as to why I kept putting myself outside of my element, but nobody ever looked down on me for it," he explained. "There were times when I was so injured from certain sports that I'd spend hours in the library rearranging the systems, helping teachers organise their lesson plans, and tutoring other kids who got beat up in their sports. Shit was humiliating for me."
"That sounds... awful," Sweetie sighed. "But... what does that have to do with me and Rarity? You trying to tell me that because you were shit at something, that means you get what I'm going through?"
"Not quite, kiddo," Dusk chuckled. "What stories did I just tell you?"
"W... what?" she asked.
"Don't repeat them back to me, just tell me the cliffnotes. Let's see if you picked up on the moral of today's tale," he chuckled.
"Uh... you sucked at writing and your sister didn't..." she explained, eyes darting around as she thought back to the tales. "And you sucked at sports and your sister didn't?"
"And that right there is exactly why you feel the way you do," Dusk nodded. "You're only focusing on the negatives."
"I..." she began, confusion in her voice. "What?"
Dusk chuckled quietly to himself, walking over to the other side of the bridge, leaning against it and watching the river roll underneath the bridge.
"The first story had me being bad at writing. What was my strength?" he asked her.
"I... uh..." she stalled.
"Think hard about it," he smirked.
"You... her grammar was worse?" she tried.
"Correct," he nodded. "Now what was my strength in the second story?"
"Um..." she fidgeted for a brief moment, pursing her lips in thought. "You never gave up trying?"
"Wrong," he grinned. "My strengths were my academics. You just didn't see it."
"You're confusing me," Sweetie sighed.
"I've noticed," Dusk smiled, standing up straight and placing a hand on her shoulder. "The point that I'm making is that my experiences with my sister, the times I spent in her 'shadow', so to speak, were times where I couldn't see anything else except my own failures. I was so focused on them that I couldn't see my successes."
"I... I get it?" Sweetie tried.
"My handwriting was awful compared to my sister's, but her grammar was atrocious compared to mine," Dusk simplified. "I failed miserably compared to her at every sport I ever attempted, but I ran circles around her academically."
"Oh..." Sweetie nodded, finally coming to some kind of realisation. "You're saying... that if I just focus on what she can do that I can't, I'll ignore everything I can do well?"
"Bingo," Dusk winked playfully.
"Well thanks for the middle-school era pep talk, chief, but it doesn't work like that!" Sweetie barked. "Rarity's good at fucking everything! We're not a yin and yang here, she's just better than me at doing the same shit!"
"Sweetie, as a random question, what grade out of one hundred did you get on that exam?" Dusk asked out of the blue.
"What does that matter?!" she snapped.
"Answer the question," he chuckled.
"I dunno like... a seventy six or something, why?" she asked.
"And what did Rarity get on it?"
"The ninety five you need to get the vacation out of it."
"Now what did everyone else get on it? What was the average score?"
"Like... forty, maybe forty five. It's a hard test."
"Correct. And you got a higher score than most everyone?"
"Yeah, but other people got a higher score than-"
"-ah-ah, Sweets, that's not what I asked. Did you get a higher score than most everyone else?"
"..."
"Answer the question, Sweetie."
"Yes."
"So you outperformed most everyone?"
"Yes."
"But you think the achievement's worth it because you didn't get the same score as Rarity did?"
"She got a way higher-"
"-answer the question, Sweetie."
"Yes, for fuck's sakes, she did better than me!" Sweetie snapped, finally having enough. "How am I supposed to be proud of that score when she did so much better?!"
"So you're ignoring the fact that you outperformed most everyone else in your class by a wide margin for the sole reason you didn't outperform one single other person?" he asked.
"Don't try to word this like it's not as big a deal as it is," she snarled.
"You wanna be the next Rarity. I get that. Believe me, I really do," Dusk nodded along. "When Celestia first started teaching me, I wanted to be the next Star Swirl the Bearded. That was my entire life goal. Everything I ever did was to be like him. I modelled my entire academic structure, world view, and subject choices on him and his work. And d'you wanna know what happened?"
"You smashed them out of the park because you're a literal fucking savant?" Sweetie growled.
"I fell behind him by quite a wide margin every single time I checked," Dusk smirked.
"W... seriously?" came the shocked response.
"Oh yeah, without question. He was able to teleport by the time he was nine, I couldn't do it until I was twelve. He'd acquired a master's degree in alchemy by the time he was thirteen, I didn't get it until I was seventeen. He was able to speak fourteen different languages by the age of fifteen, I could only speak eight by the time I was eighteen," Dusk listed off, counting each failure on his finger. "Star Swirl was everything I wanted to be, and I failed at being him in every capacity. I was devastated by it time after time, until Celestia took me aside, much like this, and told me something. A single sentence that changed my entire life."
"What did she tell you?" Sweetie asked, hooked once again.
"She told me to never focus on being the second somebody else," he answered. "She told me to always focus on being the first you."
Sweetie's eyes lowered briefly, thoughts sweeping over her.
"I couldn't do something Star Swirl could at a certain age. But I could also still do something most people never can," Dusk continued. "What you see me as, this nigh-untouchable perfectionist with no flaws, that's what I saw Star Swirl as. I couldn't hope to be him, and it destroyed me. Then after so many years and helpful advice from a trusted friend-"
He gently elbowed Sweetie in the ribs and got a small smile from her.
"-I learned that it wasn't about being the best Star Swirl successor I could be. It was about growing up to be the best version of me I could achieve," he shrugged, stepping back from the railing and gesturing to himself. "So here I am, an older and wiser boy than I once was, understanding the importance in your actions isn't how well you compare yourself to someone better than you, but how you compare your actions to those around you. Understand your worth, accept your talents, and don't let somebody achieving more cloud your view of how brilliant you really are!"
Sweetie's face wavered for a brief moment, eyes locked onto the floor before screwing shut tight. After a loud, frustrated squeak, she dived forwards and wrapped her arms around the larger pony, burying her face into his chest as he hugged her back.
"I think I'm gonna cry," she said in a gruff, choked voice.
"Please don't do it into my sweater, this thing's expensive to clean and your eyeliner doesn't wash out easily," Dusk chuckled, gently squeezing the smaller mare before beginning to spin around in a gentle circle. "Do we feel better now?"
"I guess..." she mumbled.
"That's not the right answer, Sweetie," Dusk said with a faux dismissing tone.
"Yes, you asshole, I feel better," she laughed, looking up at him with a wide smile. "Is that what you wanna hear?"
"Of course it is," he nodded, affectionately petting her on the head before gently pushing her away. "Right, come on, lemme treat you to a drink and some good after all that. All this lecturing's gotten my throat dry as sandpaper."
"Right, yeah, sure," Sweetie sighed, stuffing her hands in her pockets as Dusk began to walk away. "How do you... how do you do it? All these speeches and life lessons you tell people. How d'you always know what to say?"
"Well, it's a little secret, Sweets, but since you're such a good friend, I'll tell you anyway," he smirked, leaning in close to her ear and whispering behind his hand. "It's because I get it."
"Gods, I hate you," she smirked, playfully slapping him over the head as he pranced away giggling.
"I know, I work it so well," he smirked. "Right, I've gotta drop off a map at the ranger's cabin real quick and tell them this bridge isn't falling apart, then we can get to food. Let's get going."