//------------------------------// // Promontory // Story: Mind of a Princess // by AppleJared //------------------------------// Dear Diary, I tried to fly earlier to find some trees nearby, but my wings wouldn’t work. I then tried to teleport to a lower part of the mountain, but that wouldn’t work either. After freaking out, I deduced that this part of Equestria must be magic resistant, but that still wouldn’t explain my wings not working. I headed back to the cabin and sat at the table in the corner of the room. On it, were scrolls I had not seen since I first came here. The first scroll was in Old Equestrian, but I was able to understand it. Heh, the benefits of being a librarian… Anyways, it said, and I’m paraphrasing here, “Only the powers you were born with may save a broken heart.” Ever since I discovered the Pinkie Sense, I have learned that there are some things that science cannot explain. Combine that with the fact that I have no equipment to test theories, and I found myself accepting what the scrolls said for face value. Does that bother me? Of course it does. I practically sweat when I think about putting my future on the line for an old piece of paper written by some potentially crazy pony. Thinking about it now makes my ear twitch, and we all know what that means. However, there is also something calming about trusting something unknown. Placing a bet on something that cannot be proven is probably the most exciting thing I’ve done in years, aside from skipping one of my magic classes. But that reminded me that I couldn’t use my magic. Everything I had ever studied and the very thing I am known for is now obsolete. I can make do without wings; sometimes I wish I didn’t have them at all. But magic? I need that. Magic is my lifeblood. It’s my personality. Magic is what I am; I am the physical embodiment of the element of magic. Without magic, I’m not even sure I know who I am. For a moment, I thought I was feeling the helplessness of an earth pony, but then I scolded myself, recalling that all earth ponies have a powerful connection to nature and the earth. The only thing natural I can feel at the moment is how freezing it is outside, and I doubt that is due to anything earth pony related. Grandma Sparkle used to tell me stories like this when I was a foal, about ponies losing their magic. She said that back in her day, it was legal for the justice system to strip a pony of their magic and exile them when necessary. Supposedly, there were some that returned from exile and proved their rehabilitation to earn their magic back, as well as a place in society once more. When I grew older, I began to doubt the story, hoping that Celestia would never strip someone of their magic. Now, it’s hard not to believe Grandma. This experience, even if only gathering firewood by hoof, has been all too eye-opening on how much I rely on magic, rather, how much I am crippled without it. This morning there was no sun. Nothing bright to wake me up; only clouds. It amazes me how separated this “temple” is from reality. There is no sense of time here, only light and dark. I am here in solitude, so social guidelines are non-existent. Outside, I am a princess; here, without my powers, I am a pony. The only technology this place has to offer is an apparently unlimited amount of candles and matches. On a different note, I explored more this morning. There is a corner in the cabin with a list of names carved on the wall, as well as some tally marks nestled above the names. Some of these names clearly hailed from a distant past, and the earliest markings could not in any way be considered Equestrian. Towards the bottom of the list, however, were some that I recognized. The fifth-to-last bore a name that read “Swirl”. The very last read “Cel”. At this point, I had to sit down to deeply contemplate this information. I assumed that “Swirl” was my idol from many generations past, implying that he shared a similar problem as I. The last name, however, was unmistakably the current ruler of Equestria. Mere words cannot describe how this list makes me feel. After accepting that Celestia herself had been here before, and considering what that meant about her personal life, it suddenly made my presence here much more important. I wasn’t alone in this internal battle. A long list of ponies, and perhaps some non-ponies, had been here with the same problem. The problem clearly wasn’t a recent development either; this list has existed longer than Celestia herself, and longer than even the idea of an Equestrian Monarchy. The tally marks indicate that there were beings here even before the invention of writing. This “Temple of the Broken” must have been here since the beginning of time. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reading these names makes me feel better. I’m not sure if they should or not, but they do regardless. I’d always been pressured to be greater than my peers; to never let them see me fail. Whenever I came to dad for advice, “keep a stiff upper lip,” was practically tattooed on his face. I remember an instance when I couldn’t perform a certain spell in magic kindergarten. I certainly knew how; I had done it in my room several times before class. All I needed to do was lift a quill and write my name on a piece of paper. Simple. Easy. Except I couldn’t do it in front of my peers. I remember Quarter had mouthed “You can do it!” when I nervously looked back to the class. Her eyes and face begged me to be able. She didn’t want me to embarrass myself anymore than I did. The damage had been done, however, and after trying about five times, I admitted defeat and sat miserably down at my desk. I don’t remember very much about the rest of the day, except that I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown until I ran home, bawling my eyes out. What I do remember is the hug my dad gave me and the words he spoke. “Twilight, I know you can do it. Your teachers know you can do it. Your peers know, and even our great Celestia knows you can do this spell. The only reason you couldn’t do it today is because YOU don’t know if you can do it. You had stage fright, Twilight. Do you know the cure to stage fright?” I looked at him and shook my head, desperately wanting to know the secret to ridding myself of the feeling of failure. He said, "The only way to beat stage fright is to know you are better than those looking at you." I took the statement to heart. From that day forward, I recognized that I was better than my classmates because I studied harder, I studied ahead, and I practiced my magic endlessly. I knew I was better because I could perform spells two months before they were taught, and I made sure I could do the spell as well as the teacher, if not better. But this? This is different. Here there is no competition. I have nothing and no one to compare myself to, and I can’t be better than myself. I can’t be the elite over nothing. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe I’m supposed to be here to better myself for the sake of becoming a better pony, rather than becoming better than another pony. While I read the names, I had to consider what brought these ponies here before me. What makes us so special that we could come here and others could not? Why us? Why me? At first, I thought this place was for royalt only, but Star Swirl wasn’t even honorary royalty; he was just a mage, as detaining as that may appear. But the more I read the names on the bottom of the list, the more familiar they sounded. It dawned on me that most of these names were scattered throughout my history books. Iron Shield was the successful general of the Second Great War. Taulk o’Laut was the first politician to suggest a Royal Monarchy. Won ze’Nuff was the stallion who broke the herd lifestyle and married only one mare. All of these ponies played a significant role in changing history. And here I am… --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My time spent here has already put me into shape. Lack of magic means I must do everything manually. I carry every log, find every morsel of food, and run wherever I need to go all by my strength, with no help from magic. While this has proved to be very hard work, I do sleep better at night. I have yet to again toss and turn and endure a fitful night of slumber. I wake refreshed every morning, ready to locate more indigenous food and wood. It gives me great pride to know I can do these things on my own with no help, not only from magic or flight, but also from assistants like Spike. I feel accomplished, proud, and most importantly, I feel able. I like who I am again. For the first time in weeks, I approve of myself. In fact, it’s the first time in years that I haven’t been internally conflicted; I had never felt quite the same after I injured Quarter. After Quarter moved away, I researched heavily into where she had gone. I put out word that I was looking for her, and, being Celestia’s protégé, people actually looked for her. Eventually, I heard she was in Griffon territory, and that worried me greatly. At the time, Griffons didn’t give aid to ponies of any kind, especially in their homeland. It was always publicly denied, but I knew that lynchings took place in the more extreme parts of North Griffon. I wasn’t sure if I would ever find he myselfr, so I wrote her a letter, and had it delivered to the town she was rumored to be in. In summary, the letter repeated my apology, and, if she could ever forgive me, I’d be in Canterlot, waiting. Months passed, and I recieved no response. About 2 years later, I was summoned to the peak of Mt. Kaji for a funeral. Apparently, a Pony-Monk had died there. Since a pony had perished technically outside of Equestrian borders, Celestia decided to attend for diplomatic purposes. The Princess and I took a train to the bottom of the mountain, and then teleported up to the top. About an hour later, the service started. I was still wondering why I was requested to attend, but Celestia maintained that there was a reason. The local monk said the prayers and eulogy for the pony, primarily because no one else really knew the pony. I can still hear his words now… “She was an adventurer. Though her past haunted her, she never looked back. After enduring great trauma, she turned to nature forhelp. She came to me asking for guidance and offering her discipleship. I trained her in the ways of Eque-Fu, and she learned to use nature for her own good. Despite facing the toughest, most grueling tasks, she never quit. She would never want to be remembered as an idealist, or a monk, or even a disciple. She would want to be remembered as a soul that had found peace. She would want everyone here today to know that she died happy and free. Though some will mourn her loss, I ask you to remember that she found what she was looking for.” After he said his prayer for her soul, he opened the casket and asked the partakers of the ceremony to approach her body to pay their final respects. Celestia was second to last, and I last. She seemed to take a little extra time to whisper her respects to the female monk. When she stepped aside to let me closer, I was expecting to see an old woman in a monk’s garb. Instead I saw the musical cutie mark, and suddenly realized who it was. It was obvious that many of her bones were severely broken, and the cuts all over her body told the same story of grievous injury. I wanted to know so terribly bad what had happened, but I was so broken inside that I couldn't bear to make the situation any worse. While I wanted to know, the possibility of her death being tragic kept me from asking. I broke down and cried then and there, in front of everyone. Not just a soft, whimpering cry; a loud, wailing sob. Celestia gathered the ponies together and requested that I have some privacy. I’d rather not go into details, but it certainly was not my finest hour. I left that mountain confused, regretful, and most of all, guilty. I could only imagine where Quarter would be if I had never injured her in the first place. What hit me the hardest was the understanding I couldn't go back and change anything. We neared the castle, I knew that things were supposed to return to normal. I was expected to resume my studies and experiments, and continue where I had left of. Life is cruel that way.