//------------------------------//
// Interlude with a Draconequus 
// Story: Eternal Twilight 
// by Squirrelloid 
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Twilight, my dear, I was beginning to think you'd forgotten all about me. Did you misplace your checklist?

Twilight had exited the maze and turned into the old statue garden, and even made it about halfway to the petrified draconequus, before the villain hadn't been able to keep it in any longer. She rolled her eyes as she passed the statues of Victory and Iron Shod.

"Something came up. You didn't notice? Maybe you do have limits after all."

You wound me. I am what I am without apology or regret. Twilight was never sure how the thought-projection managed to sound so much like Discord's actual voice.

Twilight sat before the statue. "Look, I don't want to fight. Didn't we tire of that ages ago?"

We did. Of course I remember. I have an impeccable memory – how else would I know what I've done before so I can avoid doing it again in the future? But things are changing. Even you, whether you acknowledge it or not.

"What do you mean?"

A thousand years and still you wander around looking like a regular pony. Even Celestia, useless overbearing self-righteous failure that she was, didn't hide that ridiculous mane of hers.

"This is who I am."

You can't lie to me, Twilight Sparkle. My eyes don't work so well – I hear lithification is terrible for vision – but I see the real you clearly with what senses are left to me. And for all you claim not to sparkle, my dear, you dazzle.

"The real me is in here," the alicorn said, pointing to her head with a hoof, "I choose to appear the way I see myself."

Maybe you're afraid what your new little friend would think if she saw the reality. As a pony she can relate to you, maybe even love you. But you're no more a pony these days than I am. We're post-equine beings, Twilight. We were meant for more than this.

"Of all the self-serving nonsense... I refuse to be some giant in the playground, kicking over everyponies' sandcastles, which seems to be all you ever want to do."

Or could it be that the facade is for you, so you can continue to think of yourself as a pony. Is it becoming hard to empathize with all those little ants scurrying about?

"You're just afraid that I'm actually going to do it. Give up the power and responsibility voluntarily and step aside, like Star Swirl intended."

Why should I care what ridiculous motions you go through to satisfy your sense of duty?

"Because you know I couldn't stay here and do that. I'd go, and you'd have no one to talk to. Poor little Discord would be left all alone."

I do like it when you show your teeth, my dear.

Twilight came to her hooves and shook her head. "I didn't come here to waste time sparring with you."

I'm sorry. Please don't go.

"Alright." Twilight sighed. "As I recall, we left off last year talking about Hoofstadter's theories about consciousness."

Why don't we talk about something more interesting?

"Such as?"

Do you look in on your little ponies from time to time?

"I... no. Their lives are their own."

That's one of the things I like so much about you, Twilight. You managed to do what Celestia never could. You let go. Its beautiful chaos out there. Oh, I'd be lying if I said there's been nothing but harmony, but for the most part they are happy.

"It's not like they need me to solve their everyday problems. Raising the sun and the moon, that's all they need me for."

I remember exactly when I first had that realization.

Twilight held her breath, her head cocked inquisitively.

I suppose that's when it all started to go right. Or perhaps wrong, if you prefer. 

All the incessant demands to problems they could just as easily fix themselves. At first I did it gladly, because I was happy to help. But the years are long, and pleasure in a good deed quickly turns bitter when they come to rely on you. I should have realized sooner that I could just step away, that my princely functions were unnecessary.

"So why didn't you? Step away, that is."

Who says I didn't?

"What?"

Don't act so surprised. Through some trick of fate and magic you may have been graced with memories well beyond your own, but you've never been privy to mine, or only insofar as I share them with you.

"Or you could be lying to me."

Why tell a lie when the truth is so much more enjoyable? 

Twilight chewed her lip. "So at what point am I to infer you had this realization, when things started 'to go right' according to you?"

That was the moment I began to allow myself to transcend my limitations. Became other. 

"You like what you became." It was not a question.

I am delightful, fit for any occasion.

"Where are you going with this?"

You've been almost a thousand years without ponies to hold you back. You've read virtually the entire Royal Canterlot Library, practiced feats of magic thought impossible for millenia, and picked up the odd skill or two besides. You threw yourself to knowledge and served no other master for a thousand years. So tell me, Twilight Sparkle, what have you become?

"I don't find your insistence on this line of conversation endearing."

See something that frightens you?

"We're done. Maybe we'll talk next year, if I'm feeling generous."

You can run from me, Twilight, but not from yourself.

Twilight flicked her tail dismissively as she left the statue garden.





Dayspring had made it back to the castle later than she expected. Her parents had been full of bothersome questions about the letter, and had spent positively hours grilling her. Then they'd insisted she wait while they wrote a response. Which meant there'd be little time tonight to learn anything, but at least she'd be able to deliver her parents' answer, excessive formality and all. (It was 'yes', of course. Who says 'no' to a princess?)

Twilight wasn't in the hall with the stained-glass or atop the tower, which was somewhat worrying, as moonrise was not terribly far off. The palace was awful big, but worry overtook practical concerns.

It was probably dumb luck by which Dayspring found the study in less than an hour. Twilight was sprawled across a rug in front of a fireplace which dominated one wall, positioned so her head was facing away from the door and towards the room's only window. The mare didn't respond when Dayspring called her name.

Tentatively, she walked up and nuzzled Twilight's shoulder. "What is it, Twilight? Let me help."

A large wing folded itself around her and pulled her in close. Yes, everything was going to be alright.

Twilight never said a word nor turned her head, and if the trusting warmth curled up next to her brought her any comfort, she gave no sign. Sleep came eventually to the unicorn filly, but Twilight remained awake long hours afterwards, attention fixated on a point just below the window.

Stars danced in the blackness of Twilight's eyes.