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// A Damn Good Daughter (Twilight and Stardust, Family/Sad) 
// Story: Bombastic Bookpony's Bazaar of Oneshots 
// by Bombastic Bookpony 
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        Hi mom. It’s been a while. Sorry about that. Griffon Kingdom was raising a big fuss. I had to smooth trade relations. It was all so diplomatic and tension-filled and kinda boring, cause even with all the tension in the world you can’t make trade disputes exciting. But when there’s something important to be done, you have to give it your all and solve it, no matter how boring it is. You taught me that. 

You taught me a lot. 

        They say it’s supposed to get easier. My books, I mean. With all their immortal heroines with tortured and angsty souls, slowly but surely moving on from the loss of their loved ones so they can brood over some new thing. You hated those books. Called them ‘drivel’. Which is mostly true, but that didn’t stop me from reading them under the covers late at night and picturing Violet Despair’s piercing silver eyes and smouldering look. One benefit to this is I don’t have to see you roll your eyes at me and hear you tsk.

        Maybe that’s what they mean when they say it gets easier. Being able to joke about it. That was a joke, obviously. I’d give anything to see you roll your eyes at me again. Heck, even the mortal characters are supposed to get over the loss of the parent eventually, using their legacy to spur them on and milk some tears out of the reader. But all these years, after all the Big Bads and negotiations and big Equestria ending disasters I’ve navigated, I still miss you. So much. I feel... I feel so lost without you. Without being able to write you a letter and ask you your advice on how to ask my crush out, or your opinion on the latest big book, or your wise, dry and witty sayings. 

        Funny how I never asked advice on how to go without yours. 

        Would you be proud of me? Wait, I forgot. ‘Whenever you think of me, of whether or not I’d be proud of you, know that it is a resounding yes.’ It’s pitiful how many times I’ve read that letter. How many times it drove me on, or drove me to tears. You really were a damn good mother, you know that? You made some mistakes. But who doesn’t? You might’ve been a bit too strict. Sometimes you were a little distant. But even with all that, I never doubted that you loved me. And that’s the important thing, right? 

        You taught me to be strong, to always keep questioning. And even your mistakes put me on the road to meeting the six best friends a mare can have. Thank you for that. Thank you for comforting me when other kids picked on me. You might’ve made me a bit stuffy, but all your talk of self-reliance and family greatness warded off the worst of the insecurity. Thank you for reading to me at night. Even when it was a boring book, you would add your sarcasm and flourishes that were just too hilarious and amazing and-and you. I always hoped that the next book you’d choose would be a bad one, just so you would riff on it. Thank you for watching the stars with me at night. Just... thank you for everything.

        I asked Celestia and Luna and Cadence if it ever gets easier. They supplied me with the always perfect and cryptic ‘it depends on the pony’ spiel, but when I pressed, they all said the same thing. I guess in the end, we all cry out for mommy or daddy or whatever parental figure you have. Did you go through this, when you lost your parents? You seem so strong. You’re eternally in my mind as this solid rock, an emotionally stable intellectual who never wasted time on stuff like regret and sorrow. Maybe you did, and I just didn’t see it as often as I should have. Maybe you had your moments of hurt and I failed to comfort you like all the times you comforted me. I hope not. I hope that in some small way, I helped you get through tough times. I hope that when you needed a rock, I was good enough.

        I can hear you in my head. ‘Twilight, stop being so foolish and mopey. I taught you better than that. You know that you were a damn good daughter. I have never thought differently.’ Which I guess means your letter did the trick. 

        …

        Okay. I should be heading back. A princess never sleeps, you know. Not that you would let me sleep, if you were around. I miss you.  I’ll come back soon, ok? Don’t worry. I’ll give the next Big Bad the beatdown just for you. I’ll even use good ol’ spell Number 3. 

        I love you. I know I already said that. But it all comes down to those three words, right?