Day 601
I nodded at the guard flying by Sunset's ivory tower. The grey night wing nodded back. I pushed open the door cautiously.
The hinge creaked.
I cringed and pushed faster, which resolved the issue but not the echo. The half-light revealed a brass umbrella stand, a mirrored changing bench, and an ornate red fainting couch. Sunset had dragged it over a few days ago. Laying on it, she'd moaned in the throws of withdrawals, guilting, wheedling to take her to a supplier of nettle ewe she deduced I knew. Addict's logic. I'd "broken," with plenty of dragon tears, to convince her she had control. I would use her to cut down Boss Running Mead and had needed her to suspect nothing. He had threatened her. To protect her and force her to find help, I'd arranged a sting operation.
I needed to set that couch on fire and throw it out a window.
I sniffed. Cooking, not burning furniture. Midnight. A stair spiraled up toward a light. Sizzling sounds. The smell of garlic, oregano, olive oil...
Somepony was cooking... Salernitano food? Not Sunset. Her idea of dinner was reservations, and her food never smelled good.
Two sets of hooves: Walking. At least they weren't riding each other. Loudly. My skin turned hot remembering an hour ago. Wasn't sure if I'd been similarly loud.
A thump sounded behind me.
A punked-out Streak had landed in the doorway, her ear and body rings jangling as she furled her wings. She wore her stuffed messenger bag and the silver compact camera she'd used working part time for the Canterlotter. Hurricane's armor snaked over her back. Suddenly I understood how the royal guard wore plate armor all day: Embedded magic! Duh.
Anypony who could dispel embedded magic would devastate Celestia's army. I'd have to discuss that—
Streak scuffed her hooves on the mat and trotted in. "Saw you on the way home. Looked so wrapped up in thought, decided not to disturb ya."
My face colored.
She smiled, nodding. "Went to my apartment in the News Building and developed my pictures from our battle with Princess Celestia." She sang, "Got some compromising show-and-tell!" She grinned widely. "Caught hero shots of both you and Citron, with cursed flames roaring around the princess."
Horseshoes clattered on the stairs, making my thoughts implode. I flashed on the prince and me; thinking of Sunset and Citron doing the same made my tail stiffen. I didn't, couldn't, face them. Tinkling magic enchanted the lanterns into a dusky yellow glow. My ears swiveled, following their progress.
Sunset said, "We've so much to talk about!" Her voice sounded excited. No pain of withdrawals coloring her tone. No resentment for the compromising position I'd tricked her into in the sting operation.
Of course she had lots to talk about!
I hadn't thought of Citron as her first stallion, but after listening to Streak's reporting, I suspected he was. Certain details (perhaps all details) were too much information. Memory of her sleeping snug to my stomach, flashed through my head. Another of Citron stepping up, putting a hoof under my chin, and kissing me deep into my soul galloped after it, causing my tail to stiffen once again. I thought how well the Prince had performed after I'd taught him what I liked. Citron had experienced many teachers. It totally left him competitive...
Sunset stopped behind me. "Starlight?"
I inhaled sharply, so emotionally discombobulated that I feared how I would react seeing her gold and red maned-self flank and flank with lemon-meringue pie-colored Citron. I was merely a filly, wasn't I? Still a teenager for a year or so.
Instinct urged me to run. I knew better.
I turned.
Yes. There they were. Next to each other.
She had that special happy expression I'd worked so hard on the way here to wipe off my face. Her green eyes sparkled, as did his amber ones. He alone wore clothing: a tomato sauce-stained apron. His effort had been the source of the delicious smells. Still, he snugged his flank against hers. None of that "polite" distance ponies usually kept, even couples. Honest intimacy looked like this.
What had the prince and I looked like?
I hadn't been honest. With myself, least of all.
Sunset's mouth opened; her face paled. "Starlight! You're hurt."
Her horn lit with a green aura as she moved my head side to side. Her father had fixed my broken nose, again, but with the makeup washed off she saw new bruises because she paid attention to detail. She pursed her lips. I followed her gaze and touched my glued ear. Yep. No longer glued. Parts of the split had flopped opposite directions. A drop of blood smeared my frog and it stung.
The bath had unglued it. Probably. I knew nothing about medical glues. Or why I'd been in a bath, for that matter.
The prince hadn't cared how I looked, nor that I was wet as he carried me to his bed.
I'd left my cloak in the Prince's downtown apartment, which oddly left me feeling undressed. Ponies didn't normally wear clothing. We hadn't certainly, doing as we had.
I blushed.
"Have you put antiseptic on that?" She dragged me toward the washroom. I went all deer-in-the-lantern-light as Citron shrugged and grinned—some bodyguard he was! "Seriously, Starlight, sometimes I feel like your Mom or... or something! Have you always been this violent?"
The sting operation had introduction her to my Grimoire persona and my gangland past. In Canterlot, I'd separated my classroom life from my life being blackmailed into becoming an enforcer—because I'd been far worse, enough to earn my extraordinary royal pardon. The colts and fillies at Celestia's, including the school's alpha mare Sunset Shimmer, knew me only as a talented and especially bookish filly. Being Sunset's friend provided effective camouflage, letting me dodge questions about where I lived, or how I could afford my tuition.
Had I always been this violent?
Had I always been this violent!?
"My parents are dead. Killed. Thanks to Celestia," I said.
Sunset dropped the iodine with a whinny. The purple bottle bounced on the rug. For Citron and Streak, their death was old news.
"Until two days ago, I thought that. My mother's magical misfire and disappearance were certainly due to a head injury as Celestia's spy. My father is likely a prisoner of one of the mob families running Salerno, a hostage for the Doñas to hold against Celestia, and not dead. Hopefully. But. That's how I've lived since I was a foal—thinking my parents dead."
Sunset's eyes widened. She understood, intimately, for different reasons, because she'd been abandoned on the street before she could talk. Dr. Flowing Water was the only father she knew; Celestia had tamed her from a feral foal and was arguably the only mother she knew. Fraught described that relationship. "I'd loved my parents and then, one day, somepony told me they'd been murdered.
"I ran away when I could be mistaken as adult.
"Weeks later, on a drenching rainy day, I passed a big red earth pony on the road to Fillydelphia. The stallion struck me unconscious and stole what I freely shared an hour ago. I woke, dragged through the mud. I remember his words as he psyched himself up to murder me, that my mere act of breathing polluted the world.
"I learned violence, first hoof. I discovered magic could save me. I fought. I fought. I learned I could fight. Violently. I learned I need never be chattel again. I set him on fire!" I bellowed.
I stood there shaking with anger, huffing, confused. My skin burned so hotly it ought have set my fur aflame. Tears streamed down my cheeks. "He was my first stallion!"
Were I them, I'd have run from the crazy pony. I jerked as the intent to gallop away whipped my muscles into motion. Fractions of a second later, I might have built up the momentum to barrel them all over and run and keep running.
I loved to fight. I loved the violence I wrought and how I could save ponies with it. The foundation of it, of my life, was fundamentally twisted in an act of evil.
Sunset tackled me and turned it into a hug. "Starlight, oh, Starlight! I didn't know!"
Citron hugged me, too, strongly, and that felt really good; moments later Streak's wings wrapped around us all.
They said many soothing things. I shuddered and shook and cried. I didn't deserve this love, any more than that weird heart-expanding emotion I felt being with the prince. I had no choice but to endure. Something inside insisted I soak it all in—and... relaxing slowly, I did.
The soft words from a new pony's mouth cut through everything. I heard them because, growing up, a certain stallion's voice had made my life as difficult as living in Tartarus.
Proper Step said with devastating sincerity, "It's all my fault. I am so sorry."
Everypony heard it. They let me lever myself up to face my former butler, now my chargé d'affairs. The brown and black stallion collapsed to his knees, his head bowed. "I cannot morally beg your forgiveness. I verbally tender my resignation so I may leave your sight forever."
I blinked at him. Then it clicked. "You sent the red stallion?!"
"No! Celestia, no!" He would not look at me though, only the carpeted floor. "I let you run away. The princess counseled me you'd run that year if you had the mettle to become somepony great. When you ran, I thought, no, I'd better find her. She's only a filly. Despite the princess' order, I had raised you, mind and body. I knew better. I—I nevertheless issued the order that if you were found to let you get away. Fire Feather found you in Canterlot, but pretended not to see you. I am responsible for you being savaged. I've failed my basic duty as a stallion, let alone being a halfway decent pony."
My throat constricted. I wobbled, shaking. "I hated you. I hated you!" Tears streamed, rolling from my cheeks down my neck. "But you made me all I'd become. You and the tutors taught me everything, including the determination I used to defeat the Monster. To defeat all the monsters. To defeat the evil that infected Celestia. If we now have a chance to save the world, you are responsible for making that possible."
He said, "I disagree."
I stomped a hoof. "I need you. I don't accept your resignation! Celestia wouldn't let me if I did."
He stood there, knees bent, trembling, an example of pony turned insane by a cutie mark and stallion pride. I added, "We will talk this through, but I can't right now." I trembled, sitting involuntarily. Who knew being emotional could be so tiring? "Talk to your father." Celestia's majordomo. "Tell him everything, anything. You should. If they don't understand how their tool works and its modes of failure, how can they use it properly?"
He nodded, likely perceiving it a royal order. He stood not looking at me, trotted to the door, and left.
An instant later, my friends bowled me over in another group hug. Of course they did. I had friends, though I didn't understand the concept, nor did I trust it.
Later that night, we all slept in Sunset's huge bed. We should have changed the gold satin sheets. They smelled of a day's worth of after. I hoped it hid the prince's scent on me; I wanted that solely for myself. The breezes from the opened balcony doors helped. The moon lit the castle ramparts and onion domes beyond. We slept piled together, all trying to keep me warm and feeling safe. No riding was involved.
I didn't sleep well, but I did feel safe. I began to understand what it meant to be loved.