//------------------------------//
// 10. Dirty Laundry 
// Story: Your Own Worst Enemy 
// by Distaff Pope 
//------------------------------//

        I fidgeted on my back, trying to get comfortable while the music played. “Once I lived the life of a millionaire…” I blinked. I’d heard this song before, I’d heard… my stomach lurched into the bed as the world bent in on itself.

        “Spent all my money, and just didn’t care.” I stared at the singer through the the smoky room, something tingeing inside me. Anger? Sadness? Something? Something buzzed in my ear. Laughter. I laughed too. Quick and automatic.

        “That’s great,” I said, moving my leaden head to look at who I thought was talking. “Just…”

Took all my friends out for a good time.

        My head moved back to track the singer. Her voice was so ugly and deep and raspy, and it hurt to listen to. Made me think of… It wasn’t happy music. Why would anypony want to listen to this? “Why am I here?” I asked, looking around the table of… who were they? Actors! They were in the play with me. One of them laughed as I felt a jab in my side, beneath the table. I looked. Bright Lights was glaring at me. Oh! It was her birthday. She’d wanted to go out to a blues bar. I didn’t want to, but she’d forced me. I smiled at everypony.

        “Sorry, just being silly,” I said before dropping my head and staring at the table top, my head buzzing from whatever new pills Bright Lights had me on. Whatever it was, she hadn’t gotten the mix perfect yet.

Then I began to fall so low.
Lost all my good friends, didn’t have nowhere to go.

        Something warm and wet was running down my cheek. What was it? “Sweetie? Are you alright?” one of the voices asked. “You’re crying.”

        I laughed again. Ha. Ha. Ha. “No, I’m not,” I said, smiling. “Just…” I moved to scoot out of our booth. “I need to stretch my hooves for a minute.”

        “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Another voice? – Bright Lights! – asked.  “You know how I feel about you going out alone.” 

        “It won’t be far,” I said, getting on my hooves and trotting away. “Just need some air. Too smoky in here.”

        She sighed, getting further away. “Fine, but if you’re not back in a few minutes, I’m going looking for you.”

        “Alright,” I said as a waitress passed by, carrying a tray of drinks. I reached out and grabbed a nice-looking martini with my magic and downed it in a second.

        “Hey!” the waitress said. “That wasn’t for you.”

        “It’s fine,” I said, moving further away from the noise and the heat. “Just put it on my tab.” Door just a few hooves away. I dropped the glass and opened the door, a gust of cold and snow buffeting me.

        “That’s not the–” The door closed, cutting her off as I staggered up snowy stairs, and a shiver ran down my spine. Was it cold? It must’ve been; it was snowing. I didn’t feel cold, though.

        You don’t feel anything.

        I laughed at that. Why was it funny? Why was anything funny? It was all just… nothing at the end of the day, right?  Something’s funny or sad or painful, but it doesn’t really exist, it’s just empty inside. A smile or a frown for pretending. 

        How does everypony else pretend so well? I trod through the snow, thinking. It used to be easy to pretend, didn’t it? When we were younger, we could laugh and wear the happy mask so well, even we believed it. But was it real? Bright Lights made me happy too, didn’t she? Or at least, she made me believe I was happy. Joy. Yes, that! It wasn’t real happiness, just chemicals messing with your brain, twisting me into believing I was happy. But it felt like something, and this didn’t feel like anything. 

        But it wasn’t real. Why was I feeling like this? Why did I care? Bright Lights is testing a new mixture. Kinks must not’ve been worked out yet. She was trying to get me so I could work better in public, act like a normal pony. Cheery, but not excessively happy. I felt a twinge of something that almost felt like laughter, if laughter was a slick snake pumping poison into a wound. She had to pump me full of pills to make me feel normal, and she still couldn’t make it work. 

        I kept trodding, looking for hoofprints in the snow. Straining to see past the snow getting caught in my eyelids. Storm had picked up worse than we thought. Ocean air blows in from the northeast, fueling a planned pegasi snow shower. It happened occasionally. Next few days would probably be warmer than average to burn some of the snow off, but I hoped not. I liked the cold and the snow. Seeing Manehattan snowed in… Seeing this metropolis that was supposed to be filled with ponies and activity completely devoid of life, that was – I struggled to think of the word – nice. In fact… I cleared some snow off on a bench and sat down, thankful it was wood, not metal and looked around. In the dark, through the sheets of white, I could see burning points of yellow above me, each of them containing ponies huddling closer together, enjoying their little bubbles of warm and light. And then there’s Sweetie, out in the dark and cold.

        That’s okay, though. The dark and cold is underrated. There’s beauty there, too. In the emptiness and the unmarred snow, there’s a promise there, like a fresh coat of paint, covering up all the ugliness beneath it, begging you to paint something better on top of it. I imagined myself sitting here from the outside. Snow covering my mane, coat blending in with the snow, leaving just two green eyes. If I stayed out here long enough, it’d cover me up with everything else. I closed my eyes. Wait long enough out here, and the snow will bury you with all the other ugliness, let somepony paint something better on top. 

        You’re freezing. No, I wasn’t. I was finally feeling warm as I sank deeper into the snow. So warm I wanted to take off my– I giggled. Oh, right, I’d forgotten my coat at the bar. Instead, I was just sitting here in the cold with no protection, waiting for the snow to bury me. 

        If you stay out here, it’s going to end. That wasn’t bad, though. It wasn’t real, anyways. I wasn’t real, anyways. Just a collection of chemicals Bright Lights manipulated. Maybe none of it was ever real, just a mask I wore to keep ponies from seeing all the emptiness. Let the mask fall off, the tiny barrier that keeps my emptiness and the world’s emptiness apart, and just dissolve. The warmth spread through me. The snow and I started to melt into each other. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? I smiled. It felt real. And finally, I dissolved.

        My eyes snapped open, a shiver of terror running up my spine. I bolted up in bed, looking around at the world wild-eyed. My room. Not the penthouse room, but… the suite room. Mom. I was with Mom and Scootaloo. Well, Mom was in the next room, but close enough. I hugged myself, feeling my own warmth. It wasn’t enough.

And as for friends, you don’t have any.

        Scootaloo stood in front of me, wearing her newest skirt, a pretty short thing that barely covered her flanks but framed her wonderfully when you saw her from behind. I smiled. She wasn’t even wearing the top to go with it, and she was busy– “Stop, please,” I said.

        She stopped the second the word left my lip, and the second after that, my forelegs were around her, and I ignored the traditional tensing that happened whenever we touched. “Hey, what’s wrong?” she said, her voice a little breathier than usual. I pressed tight against her, savoring her heat, but for completely different reasons than normal. 

        “I… I’m just… cold.” She didn’t want to hear about this. She wants you to tell her everything. She also wants me to be all dommy and stallioney, and that probably doesn’t include telling her about… I trailed off, trying to shake the memory away. Was it real or just another dream? It felt like it happened, but that whole time was kind of fuzzy. “Add this to the list of songs I like, please.” I floated the pen into her mouth and gestured to the sheet of paper on the floor. “And take the time to make it legible, please, otherwise, I’ll have you do it all over again.”

        She lowered herself down to the ground, and I tsked. “Posture, Scootaloo. You know how important proper form is for penmanship.” She bent down gingerly, lowering her forelegs to the ground, while keeping her back legs stiff, sticking her plot and dock up in the air, skirt sliding down, and it felt like some molten metal was puddling inside me. Well, that got rid of the cold feeling, at least. I smirked and sat down, enjoying the view as she laboriously wrote the song name out, careful to get every last letter perfect for fear of redoing the whole list. My wastebin threatened to overflow with wadded-up pieces of paper.

        A minute later, she stopped and passed the sheet to me with one hoof, careful to keep her pose. She knew not to get up until I said so. “Are you sure something’s not bugging you?” she asked. “Because if it is, we can totally Rainbow Dash or Carousel Boutique and talk it out.”

        I shook my head and smiled, looking over her penmanship as a thrill went down my spine. This was definitely good enough. I could be happy like this, being her… whatever she wanted me to be. If I needed somepony to talk with about bad dreams – I glanced out the window to the night sky – I could think of somepony better. “I know, Scootaloo, but I’m fine,” I said, lighting up my horn and changing to another album. It felt… almost good to be getting back into music. I still couldn’t sing, but listening was nice, and every now and then, I caught myself humming to a song. Of course, the second I did, I stopped.

        “You just need to decouple those memories of Bright Lights from your love of singing,” Doctor Hooves said in my head. I looked up in time to see him walk through the door – and Scootaloo, who was still staring at me. I waved a hoof at her to go back to her work.

        “I know,” I mumbled to him, moving back to the bed. “But it’s a lot harder to do than say.” Scootaloo heard me – she usually did when I started mumbling to myself, but unless it was really bad, she didn’t Rainbow Dash anymore. I guess she thought it was better if I worked it out myself. At least I didn’t have to get into another talk with her about the same stupid stuff. Although, if she tried to talk to me without Rainbow Dashing first, I got to punish her and think up some more humiliating stuff for her to do. My lips twitched up at that. You really shouldn’t enjoy this so much.

        Maybe not, but… I thought for a second. Right, I had to take my nightly pills before I went to sleep. To keep the hallucinations kind of in check and generally not be a complete mess of a pony. Just mostly a mess. I floated the bottles and the glass of water from my nightstand and downed them all, except for the Deep Sleep, or whatever its actual name was. 

        Finished, I returned the bottles to their place and moved back to staring up at the ceiling, letting the music flood over me. What else was there to do? Oh, right. “You were good today. If you want to be cuddled, you should get to bed now.” Half a second later, something warm and furry was sliding into my arms and wiggling up against me. I smiled as the music took me away.

”I’m your only friend, I’m not your only friend…”


♪♪♪


        I was shivering, swaddled in my blankets as the first beams of sunlight warmed my little cocoon, and memories of the night before came back to me. Ugh, what had– “You’re up,” Bright Lights said. I tilted my head and saw her curled up on the other half of the couch. “I was worried.”

        “You… why didn’t you take me to a hospital?” I asked, body shivering and my throat parched. 

        She sighed and and got to her hooves, trotting to my armoire. “Because, Sweetie, if you go to the hospital, they’ll do bloodwork, learn about your… nastier habits, and then, soon enough, all of Equestria will. I didn’t want to see your reputation and career destroyed.” Liar. I blinked. No, this wasn’t right, it was… 

        “Thanks,” I said, lolling my head back onto the armrest. Of course, she knew what she was doing. That’s what she was there for.

        “Your lucky I came out to check on you,” she said, glaring at me. “Do you know how stupid it was to go out there without a coat? And if my friends knew what really happened... I had to tell them you were feeling under the weather, but how can you be so stupid? You can’t let me have one evening without making it about yourself, can you?”

        “Sorry,” I said, closing my eyes. “I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t feeling right.” I thought back to the night before. “I think it’s the new treatment.”

        “And speaking of treatments,” she said, trotting into our room, coming out a minute later with my bottles of feeling. “You don’t have anything to do today, and you should spend some time recovering, so how does a lot of Zen with some Joy mixed in sound?”

        I nodded. “Yes, please.” In an hour, I’d be floating on a cloud and wouldn’t care about the freezing in my bones. I giggled. I wouldn’t care about anything but smiling.

        She brought the pill to my lips and stopped. “Thank me first. Tell me how much better I am than you deserve.”

        “Of course, you are,” I said, nodding my head. I needed the pills and it was true, she just wanted the truth. “I was so stupid and selfish last night, and ruined your birthday party, but you’re still here to take care of me and make me happy.”

        “And you’d do anything for me?”

        I nodded. “Yeah, of course, you do so much for me, you’ve given me everything,”

        “Good,” she said, pushing the pills down my throat with her magic. “Then, since we have time before your treatment kicks in, why don’t we go to our room?”

        “Can it wait?” I asked, another shiver running down me as I felt a warmth move down into my stomach. It wouldn’t be long until it started spreading all through me. “I’m still…” I sneezed.

        “And what did you just say?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

        “That… that I’d do anything for you,” I said, sighing and throwing my blanket off me. 

        She nodded at me, slowly. “That’s right, you did, and you wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

        “No,” I said, trudging to my hooves. She beamed a sick smile. “You’re right, I’m just still feeling sick.”

        “Don’t be so glum, Sweetie. I promise you’ll enjoy what I have planned,” Bright Lights said moving to the door.

        “And I think that’s quite enough of that,” a familiar voice said. I looked to the window to see Princess Luna trotting through like it wasn’t there. “I apologize for letting this nightmare go on so long, Sweetie, but I was interested in seeing if you would wake yourself from the dream’s logic.”

        My mind twisted as years’ worth of memories were shoved into my skull. “Sorry,” I said, “I guess I’m still struggling with that. On the bright side, I know why I didn’t die, now.” I glanced at Bright Lights, frozen in place. “You know, I’m kind of surprised she didn’t just let me freeze to death.”

        Luna raised an eyebrow. “Why are you speaking of freezing to death? I fear I missed something.”

        “Oh, right, I had another one of my waking nightmare things, where I wandered off into a blizzard without a coat and… just decided to sit and stare at the snow coming down. Then, apparently, she saved my life.”

        “I see,” Luna said, tapping a hoof. “And you didn’t remember this in your waking life?”

        “That…” I paused. I probably should remember almost freezing to death without having to have a flashback, right? Then again, most ponies didn’t have several years’ worth of memories buried under heavy drug use, so… “I don’t know, it felt real.”

        “Most dreams do,” Luna said, waving a hoof and sending us back to her dream hub. “And I’m sure there’s more than a grain of truth to them, but dreams are more a reflection of the self than of reality. It would be ill-advised to take them as gospel.”

        “Okay,” I said, moving to sit next to her. “So you’re saying I can’t know if I almost died or not because of memory stuff?” Well, I already knew I almost died. I saw the cracks in the penthouse window. I just didn’t know how many times I almost died.

        “Not unless you want to speak with witnesses of more sober mind,” Luna said, nodding as gems swirled around us and conjured a frozen Bright Lights into being. “And considering who that would be, I’d put less faith in her words than your dreams.”

        A little laugh played in my throat. “Also, I think Mom would actually kill me if I saw her again.”

        “No,” Luna said, shaking her head. “I don’t think she’d kill you.” And that definitely wasn’t the word I wanted to hear emphasized. Not that I liked Bright Lights, but Mom murdering somepony would be…

        “Wait, so since my Mom’s kind of actually royalty, could she be punished for killing somepony?” I asked.

        “As a princess-consort, yes. Now, if she were to ascend to alicorndom, or was matrilineally descended from Princess Platinum...”

        “Oh, so she didn’t tell you, then?” I asked, tilting my head. “Weird. I get why she’s not telling the papers yet, but I thought for sure that you and Celestia would know.”

        “Tell me what?” Luna asked, looking at me, mane blowing behind her head. Huh, could I get my mane to look like that in the Dreaming? More importantly, would it look good?

        “Oh, apparently she and Twilight did some researching or something, and found out she’s–” I was cut off as an alarm went off from somewhere.

        “I’m afraid I must ask  you to hold that thought, Sweetie,” Luna said, holding up a hoof and bringing up a map table divided into little squares of competing realities. She looked at something dark on the edges of it. “Night Terrors. Sweetie, I must depart. It’s absolutely vital that you stay here and keep an eye on things in my absence.” She nodded at me. “I trust you to be responsible while I’m gone.”

        “Oh, yeah, I can totally do that,” I said, looking at the vast swarm of gems I’d be looking at. “So… what if somepony has a nightmare?” 

        “Deal with it. Do your best to soothe them, but don’t enter their dream. You remember what I said about the right word, I trust?” she said, summoning silver armor and sword. “I should be back before morning; the incursion is a small one, at least.”

        “Wait,” I asked, taking a step towards her as magic cackled in the air. “What exactly are Night–” And just like that, she was gone. I sat down in the center of the hub and looked around. The talk with her didn’t go exactly like I’d expected. On the other hoof… I looked to the cluster of gems that represented Hoofington and started looking into its citizens’ dreams.


♪♪♪


        Doing things the slow way wasn’t working. At least, it wasn’t working fast enough. Luna’d be back before I found him at this rate. Still, I didn’t want to get in trouble with her for invading other ponies’ dreams. I rolled my head, thinking. I could probably put a word in their dream, though. An innocuous, meaningless word for basically everypony but him. I selected the few stallions in town who were probably around his age, drew them all close to me and whispered one word. “Rarity.” The dream in one gem shifted, a younger version of Mom appeared, and the dreamer seemed to shrink down to nothing. I smiled and looked at the dream gem. A purple heart. Perfect. 

        I looked at the stallion, took in his lavender coat, the purple mane, and the pink heart on his flanks. The gems floated back to their place and I laughed, keeping my eyes on the purple heart and the stallion inside. “Hello, dad.”

        Now to figure out his name, do my research. I didn’t want to just confront him, and I definitely didn’t want to ask around in Hoofington. Maybe spying on him through his dreams and the dreams of others wasn’t the best use of my powers, but it’d get results. And it wasn’t like I was tampering with ponies’ dreams. Luna said it was fine for me to watch.

        In his dream, my mom stormed towards him, but then she wasn’t storming towards him, she was storming towards another mare. They were yelling about something, it looked like the other mare was defending him? Keeping my mom away from him. Then, there were two fillies running behind him. One a few years younger than me, maybe the age I was when I left the Academy, and the other still basically a foal. 

        “Oh, are you freaking kidding me?!” I asked the air, sending the gem out of sight. “He’s married? And happy? And has kids?!” I stormed around, looking for where I’d put his dream gem and grabbing it tight with my magic. I could break it. I wasn’t sure what would happen, but it probably wouldn’t be good. Then again, if Luna found out… I didn’t know what she’d do to me, but it probably wouldn’t be good.

        So, apparently your father doesn’t have a problem raising children, he just didn’t want to raise you. Can you really blame him, though? Great! Thanks voice in my head. I flicked his gem as far away as I could before finding the fillies in his dream. The youngest one was easy enough – no cutie mark, but her dreams were bright and shiny and loud. Easy enough to find, especially since her father was in them, and… oh great, he was in her bedroom, reading a story to her, and then… well, then it got all weird and dreamy as a monster spilled out from under her bed and he started attacking it. It wasn’t even a contest, he just lit up his horn, a beam of light came out of the sky, and the monster exploded. So even better, he was apparently a great dad, who probably doted on his daughters, and was just the absolute world to them. As soon as I could get away, I was going to Hoofington. I knew what he looked like, I’d track him down, and I’d get some answers. Until then… I took a breath and sent his daughter’s gem back to its normal place. Until then, I’d do my best to get better.


♪♪♪


        Sunbeams warmed my coat as my eyes flickered open and saw a shock of purple mane. Right, Scootaloo. I yawned and stretched, untangling myself from my marefriend. She’d probably be out for a few more hours; she liked sleeping late and she’d been going to bed exhausted the last few days. Sometimes, I slept later, but that was when my dream training was really tough. I grinned as my hooves touched the floor and I trotted to the door, turning off the record player that’d been silently spinning all night long as I went. Yes, I’d been good about keeping her tired, and that was kind of an accomplishment. Like, she definitely had more stamina than me, but she wasn’t the Queen of Kink, so…

        I slipped through the door, closing it after me and careful not to make a sound. She deserved her sleep, and it gave me time to think up something fun for her to do today. I trotted into the main room and nodded at Mom, who was holding her cup of coffee close. “How’d you sleep?” I asked, trotting to the coffee pot before stopping, tracking back to the fridge and pulling out the cream. I gave the bottle an experimental shake. Almost out.

        “I didn’t,” she said, glancing at her open bedroom door. “Twilight, you silly mare, please come out here. Your research won’t go anywhere.”

        “But it’s important!” she yelled back. A second later, her head popped out the door. “Sorry, didn’t mean to yell, it’s too early for yelling, isn’t it?”

        Mom nodded. “Not until after I’ve had a cup of coffee or two, dear,” she said, while I poured the rest of the cream into my empty mug. Put the cream in first, then when you poured the coffee in, you didn’t have to mix it. I looked back and saw Mom patting the sofa next to her. “Now, sit.”

        “So, what’re you researching?” I asked, pouring the coffee before returning the pot to its place. “Some new thing that’ll revolutionize magic?”

        “Uhmm… no,” she said, blushing as she sat next to Mom. “I’m… why do we use a base-ten numbering system?”

        Mom sighed and took another sip of coffee while I moved to my favorite overstuffed chair. It was one of the few things from the old apartment I couldn’t live without. Well, I wanted some of the artwork here, too, but Mom didn’t want such ‘indecency’ on display for any guest who walked in. That could be for when I got my own place. Or moved in with Scootaloo. “While that’s a very interesting question, Twilight, I don’t think it merits you waking me up in the middle of the night with a litany of questions about our numbering system and the Equestrian calendar,” Mom said.

        I raised an eyebrow. “I think I’m a little lost.”

        “Of course you are, Sweetie,” Bright Lights said, trotting up from behind me. “Your head wasn’t made for thinking, it was for looking pretty.” I rolled my eyes at that and ignored her away. Way too early to be dealing with her. You know, you don’t have to deal with her at all. She’s just another voice in your head you can ignore. Yeah, I guess that was true, so… why didn’t I will her away all the time?

        Because you know you deserve it.

        I shuddered and stared into my coffee’s clouds. “Do you understand, Sweetie?” Twilight asked. Great, she’d been talking and I’d completely spaced out into Sweetie-land: The Unhappiest Place on Earth.

        “Sorry, could you repeat that?” I asked, frowning and taking a little sip of coffee. Not as sweet as I usually made it, but… not bad. Maybe I could use a little less sweetener in the future. The bitter mixed with sweet tasted, I don’t know, maybe better than just sweet?

        “Sure,” Twilight said. looking between me and Mom. 

        “Is she alright?” her look asked. Mom gave a tiny nod in response.

        “Right, well, like I was saying, the calendar system revolves around the number four. Each year is divided into four seasons, further divided into twelve weeks. Each week is made of seven days, but that’s really a holdover from ancient pantheistic traditions where each day was named in honor of a deity.” She shook her head. “Right, but each day is twenty-four hours with each hour divided into sixty minutes. All of the numbers, except for weeks, are divisible by four.”

        “Wait, so why are there seven days?” I asked, tilting my head. “I get that they’re named after deities or whatever, but… why did we decide to divide them up in seven?”

        Twilight’s eyes went wide. “I don’t know,” she said. “You’re right, though, why seven?” She laughed. “There’s no reason to think there were only seven gods in the ancient Horse pantheon; in fact, I’m sure there were more, so… why seven? Another mystery. But first, why ten?”

        “Why ten what?” I asked, taking another sip of coffee and feeling it warm my mouth and chest. 

        “Why a base-ten numbering system? It doesn’t make sense. Twelve would be a much better choice, and there’s nothing in pony society that predisposes us to liking ten. What is it? Two groups of five. Okay, fine, but we have four legs. Why use five? Or ten? Two I can understand,, but half of all numbers are divisible by two. Twelve is neatly divisible by two, three, and four.” She tilted her head and ‘hmmed’ while Mom looked at me.

        “Now just imagine her going on like this for hours and you’ll have a picture of my night, Sweetie,” Mom said. 

        “Sorry,” Twilight said, dropping her head. “I tried to be quiet, and I cast a low-light reading spell. Why won’t you just let me cast a sleeping spell on you?”

        “Because I detest the mere thought of losing control of myself. I will not allow myself to be stripped of agency, no matter how good your intentions are.” Mom glanced at me. She didn’t say anything else. Nothing else would have helped, really. 

        “Come on,” Twilight said, “It’s not like it’s some crazy magic, there are plenty of pills out there that recreate the magical effect of a sleep spell. Sweetie’s–” She caught up to where Mom was. “Oh, sorry, Sweetie. It’s…”

        “Fine,” I said, waving a hoof and setting my coffee down on its table. “I get it, I lost control, I let myself get stripped of my agency or whatever. It was a bad dumb stupid thing. It’s not like you’re going to upset me by reminding me of all the stupid stuff I did.” I looked at my coffee and suddenly wished it was a little stronger. Seriously, what would I give for one night where I could just get completely plastered?

        I shook my head. We weren’t doing that yet, we had to convince Mom we were better. Good luck with that. Yeah, thanks, voice in my head. I closed my eyes and went through the plan I’d dreamed up the night before. “Hey, Mom, I think I’m ready to start doing interviews and stuff. Uhmm… you know, it’s been a few days since I had a really bad episode, Luna’s exercises have been helping out a lot, and I… I just want to get back to singing.”

        “So you can sing again?” Mom asked, raising an eyebrow.

        “Well… no, but I’m getting there, I found songs I like, and I occasionally catch myself humming from time to time, so… I think I’m making progress.” Sing for me, Sweetie. I shuddered. Slowly. Slowly making progress. 

        “Hmm, well, if you’re sure, I can start arranging some one-on-one interviews.” She paused. “Are you sure you still want to speak with Write Thinking?”

        “Yeah,” I said, nodding my head. “It’s like, if I can get her to like me, then she’ll stop attacking me, and a lot of the angry voices in the newspaper will disappear. That makes sense, right?”

        “It seems reasonable to me,” Twilight said. “Take your worst enemy and turn them into a friend. It’s always worked out for us.”

        Mom shook her head. “I don’t think Write Thinking is Sweetie’s worst enemy,” she said, leaning against Twilight and letting out a yawn. “Oh, excuse me, Sweetie, for some reason, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

        “Sorry,” Twilight said.

        “It’s alright, dearest, I’m not mad at you. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to marry you; I’m just tired, and I feel like tweaking your muzzle oh-so-slightly.” There was another yawn, and Mom took a sip of coffee. “I think I’ll have to brew another pot soon. Anyways, Sweetie, my concern is that Write Thinking has already made up her mind about you.”

        “But she doesn’t even know me,” I said, shaking my head and frowning. “How can you judge somepony you don’t even know?”

        “Quite easily,” Mom said. “But if your mind is made up, I’ll do what I can, although I think it wise to interview with some other ponies as well. As a contingency plan, of course.”

        “Sure,” I said, shrugging. She didn’t trust me, she thought I was making a big dumb mistake like all my other big dumb mistakes. To be fair, you do have quite a few of those. Yeah, okay, sure, I’d screwed up… basically everything I’d ever done, but this was a good idea. Even Twilight agreed with me, and she was probably the smartest pony in the city. She also trapped you in a time loop. Well, nopony’s perfect. Anyways, who cared if Mom didn’t completely agree with me? She was still helping me out; she just had a backup plan as well.

        “Now, that just leaves the question of our announcement,” Mom said. “The engagement should draw ponies’ focus away from Sweetie, but at the same time, I worry the truth about her ancestry might just make things worse.”

        “What, you mean that you’re my Mom?” I asked, tilting my head. “I don’t care if they attack me for that. You’re, like, the best mom ever, and nothing they say will change that.”

        Mom smiled. “While that’s refreshing to hear, Sweetie, I was speaking more of our shared descent from Princess Platinum. If Write Thinking doesn’t like you now, it will be so much worse when you become nobility.”

        “Got it,” I said. “So we need to make her like me before you reveal you’re a princess, right?”

        She sighed. “If it can be done at all, that would be ideal. I won’t be holding my breath, though. The war of public opinion shan’t be won through a bloodless coup, I think, but instead through a brutal battle of attrition.” I looked at her, blinking. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’ve been reading some of Twilight’s books on military history. They are delightful for those nights I can’t sleep for some reason or another.”

        “Right,” I said, shaking my head and licking my lips. After the coffee, a glass of water. Oh, and I should probably take my medicine at some point. Water and pills, then. “So… you’ll set up the interview?”

        “Yes, I’ll set up the interview,” Mom said, sighing. “And then Twilight and I will go public with our announcements. Then, we’ll move on to the next round of damage control, and hopefully get you singing again.”

        “Wow,” I said, frowning and fighting an unhappy laugh. “When you put it like that, it sounds like the easiest thing in the world.” I sighed and sunk down into my chair. “Do you think I’ll ever fix my life back to…” Like it was before? Never. “Something else? Better? Where I don’t have to worry about the news and can just sing?”

        Mom just smiled before taking another sip of her coffee. “Of course, Sweetie. It won’t happen quickly, I fear, but we’ll get there. You know I’ll be there for you every step of the way.”

        “I know,” I said, smiling for a half second before resting my head on the chair’s armrest. “So… how are we going to do the whole interview thing? Like, I kind of don’t want the news people to know I’m here.”

        “Well, Sweetie,” Mom said, glancing from me to the window. “I might have a plan for that.”


♪♪♪


        I sat back in my old apartment, while Mom and Scootaloo moved my artwork into the bedroom. If I was going to say I repented and was doing better, all those paintings and sculptures probably wouldn’t help out. At least, that’s how Mom put it, and that kind of made sense. Better to just smile and look wholesome.

        “Sweetie, are you sure you don’t want me here for the interview?” Mom asked, trotting back into the living room and pulling my eyes away from the now empty walls.

        “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I said, nodding my head and not looking at the windows. “I’ve got Scootaloo with me, and I kind of want to do this on my own.”

        “Plus, I’ll be with her the whole time,” Scootaloo said, lugging a statue to my room. I lit my horn up to hold some of the weight for her. “Thanks, Sweetie.”

        “Anytime,” I said, smiling at her before going back to look at Mom. “And you trust Scootaloo with me, right? You know, after everything she’s done for me, how could you not trust her?”

        Mom frowned and gave me a half-second glare. “It’s not that I don’t trust her, of course, it’s just… well, you can be remarkably adept at convincing ponies to see things from your point of view when you set your mind to it.” Translation: You’re good at manipulating ponies. No, you’re great at manipulating ponies. “And I’m just worried you might convince her to act against your own best interests.” And she didn’t trust me alone with Scootaloo. Can you blame her? Look at what you did to Melody and Tiara.

        “But Scootaloo’s… She’s Scootaloo. She’s not going to follow every stupid thing I say.” Actually, if I treated her right, she probably would. I’d gotten pretty good at finding her buttons and pressing them. And you’re proving your mom’s point.

        Well, that wasn’t what I meant, just that… You have Scootaloo wrapped around your hoof? No, no, she wouldn’t do everything I suggested. Like, if I told her to get me drugs, I definitely couldn’t convince her to do that. Really, my only power was convincing her to wear dresses for me. That wasn’t going to get me in trouble. Probably not. Unless it was a really fun skirt or dress. Like, maybe if I had her walk around Times Square wearing just her tennis skirt, yeah, that would probably lead to trouble, but it would be so fun.

        “You have a serious skirt problem, Sweetie,” Scootaloo said. I blinked and sent a pulse of magic from my horn, causing the Scootaloo in front of me to vanish. Just a hallucination, then. Great. 

        “Sweetie… Sweetie?” My ears perked up, and I turned my head to look at the voice to see Mom staring at me, concern writ large on her face. 

        “Sorry, I said, shaking my head. “Kind of spaced out. Did I miss anything important?”

        Mom sighed. “You know, Sweetie, you must work on being present in the moment. You ‘spacing out’ during an interview won’t help your case. I’ve been talking with some of the ponies from the papers, and you apparently developed quite the reputation for just staring off into nothing in the middle of your interviews.”

        “Okay, so I have to stay focused,” I said, nodding my head. “I can do that. I’m great at staying focused.” The voice in my head just laughed and I sighed. “Okay, maybe not, but I think I can stay in the moment for an entire interview without drifting off into Sweetieland.”

        “We can still call off this interview if you want. Wait another day and call in somepony who might be a bit more… sympathetic towards your plight, instead of Write Thinking,” Mom said, grabbing the last painting from the wall and floating it towards my bedroom.

        I took a breath and shook my head. “No, I can’t. I need to do this myself, I need to… If I can just get her to see past the story Bright Lights told her, I’m sure she’ll like me, and I can do this on my own.” I stopped and looked at the bedroom. “Or, on my own with Scootaloo.”

        Mom stopped and looked back at me, raising an eyebrow. “Look, I love you, alright, Mom,” I said. “I definitely do, I just… you’ve been with me since I woke up, and I kind of just want to do something without you. To prove I can. And you’ll still be there when I get back to the suite tonight.” She just looked at me, not even bothering to put the question about Scootaloo into words. “She’s just there for support.” Also, she wasn’t the one with the power in our relationship, but saying that probably wouldn’t go well with Mom. “Like, I’m not going to rely on her, I’ll just feel better knowing she’s next to me. Not that I feel bad around you, but… Can you just give me this?”

        “Of course, Sweetie,” Mom said, sighing and putting the painting down in my room. “Just… you know I worry about you.”

        I smiled and got to my hooves, trotting around to give her a hug. “I know, and thanks.” I paused and blushed. “Also… thanks for helping me hide all of those paintings. I... didn’t think it might be weird for my mom to see them until just now.”

        Mom laughed. I blinked. Where was Scootaloo? I’d talked to her hallucination, but the real mare… I looked around. “It’s utterly fine, Sweetie. I like to think I’m rather difficult to shock.” Especially after what she’d had to read. She smiled. “Besides, I’m happy to help you, no matter what you need.”

        “Yeah…” I said, looking back into the living room. No Scootaloo. “Well, thanks. So, what are you doing now?”

        “I imagine I’ll go see how Twilight’s doing, and perhaps enjoy our own romantic night on the town. Maybe start drafting our own reveal.” She rubbed under the base of her horn. “And hopefully that won’t backfire on us. ‘Oh yes, I’m marrying a princess. Also, I am a princess. Also, my sister who’s still the subject of a great big controversial scandal is actually my daughter. No, you may not know who her father is.’” She raised an eyebrow at me. “Do you think if we say it all at once like that, everypony will be too flummoxed to actually write anything. A sort of scandal overload?”

        “There are definitely worse ideas,” I said, trotting back to the couch and sitting on… I jumped up, looking behind me to see an orange mare that came from nowhere. “Scootaloo?” I looked back at Mom. “Hey, is…” I rubbed the back of my head. “Is she real?” I sent a pulse from my horn. Definitely real. Great, now I wasn’t seeing things that were there. Time for another trip to Dr. Matter to get different pills, I think.

        “Yep,” Scootaloo said, while Mom nodded. I sighed and sat down next to my marefriend.

        “You snuck up on me,” I said, frowning. No she didn’t. Don’t blame your madness on her. “I think I’m going to have you wear a bell from now on.” I smiled at the image of little bells jingling with every step she took, my mind wandered towards all the outfits she could wear that incorporated bells, and I slouched lower down towards– I sat up straight, cheeks flushed. Bad Sweetie, no thinking like that before an interview where you’re trying to prove what a not-crazy sex deviant you are. 

        “Oh, yes, I’m quite reformed,” I’d say, leaning in conspiratorially with Write Thinking. “No, I’m the very model of modern pony purity. Now, tell me, which of these outfits would look best on my marefriend when I’m humiliating her?” I laughed in the present, earning a look from Mom and Scootaloo. Also, why was I talking like Mom in that fantasy?

        “Sorry,” I said, flashing a smile to Mom and Scootaloo and fighting the urge to snuggle up against Scootaloo. She wouldn’t like it, it wasn’t… I sighed. She wouldn’t like it. I looked at Mom. “Anyways, I’ll see you in an hour or two?” 

        “Of course,” she said, trotting to the door. “Hopefully by then, Twilight and I will have a plan about just how we can break our news without any of it splashing back on you.”

        “Should I hold my breath?” I said to her. She stopped at the door and looked back, eyes seeing past the penthouse to something far away.

        “It might be hard for you to give an interview on just one breath.” She smiled, coming back to the moment. “And you asphyxiating on Miss Write Thinking won’t help anypony, I’m afraid.” Wow, she was really good at saying no and making it sound like a good thing. Maybe I should just have her do the interview. 

        “Oh, yes, run to your mother,” Bright Lights said, coming through Mom. “Do you remember when I was the mare you ran to? Who handled all the hard terrible things you didn’t want to do? What does it say that she’s filling that role now? A reflection of how you saw me? Or how you see her?” I definitely didn’t gag at that image, and even if I did, Scootaloo was nice enough not to ask what was up. Okay, so that’s another reason we have to do this on our own. I could do this, I didn’t need Bright Lights or Mom or anypony to fight my battles for me. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and waited.

        “So…” Scootaloo said from next to me. There was a pause and I heard the faint sounds of a hoof rubbing against mane. “If you want to destress to me or anything, you can. I know I can get a bit weird before a race.”

        “Race?” I asked, looking over at her and raising an eyebrow. “You haven’t told me about any races.”

        “Oh, yeah,” she said, nodding her head and laughing a little laugh that begged me to talk about anything else. If she was keeping secrets, she wasn’t going to get any mercy. “Did I not mention that?”

        “Nope,” I said, leaning over her, and backing her against the couch. “And you know what the rule is for keeping secrets from Mistress Sweetie.” I whispered the last words right into her ear and for good measure, nibbled at the tip.

“Wait, wait,” Scootaloo said, pushing a hoof up against me. “Rainbow Dash.  Mistress Sweetie? Really?”

“What?” I asked, pulling away slightly. “It has a nice ring to it. And… you know, you grovelling before me, that’s kind of humiliating, right? Especially if we got you wearing a schoolfilly skirt and some knee high socks and…” My eyes went wide. “Yes! We need socks for you.”

Scootaloo frowned, but I wasn’t about to hear it. “There’s no getting out of this, Scootaloo, I’ve decided,” I said. “We’re going to come up with tons of cute little embarrassing outfits for you, and your going to parade around them in our house, and–” I shook my head. “All this time, I’ve been thinking so small. There’s so much more to feminizing you then just dresses, we can use whole outfits. I could dress you up as a Prench maid and then have you clean around our house and dust things, and…” I moaned as visions filled my head. 

“You know, I’ll never get how you find all this weird stuff sexy,” Scootaloo said. I raised an eyebrow. “Okay, I get it that I’m weird for wanting you to make me feel all mare-ey, but what do you get out of seeing me wear clothes? Yeah, dressing up as a Prench maid would embarrass the heck out of me, but I’m starting to think you get more turned on by seeing me dressed up than seeing me naked.”

I nodded, sorting through all the outfits she’d be wearing soon. They’d be comfy, of course, except for the ones that weren’t supposed to be, and there were so many fantasies we could get into. Ooh! I could start dressing up too. If I was going to be the Queen of Kink, I might as well look the part. I blinked. Scootaloo just said something. Something about me liking clothed mares more than– “Oh, yeah, of course I do. Like, I see you naked all the time, it’s not special. But put some clothes on, let me imagine what’s underneath? That’s way better.”

She blinked and stared at me, frowning. “But… you know what’s under there, you just said so. Also, can we not talk about how weird it is that your mom’s a dressmaker and you have a weird clothing fetish?”

That was… My brain screamed as it tried to untwist those two statements. Yes, my mom was a dressmaker, and yes, I happened to like mares in dresses, but– “It’s not all clothes,” I said. “If you were to dress up as a firemare or a mailmare, that wouldn’t do anything, so I don’t think it’s exactly a clothing fetish. Just… imagining you wearing a maid outfit or whatever? That does something for me.”

Scootaloo sighed. “Fine, alright, but I’m not having your mom make your weird fetish outfits for us. If you want to get that stuff, you need to buy it at a store.”

I grinned, feeling like my lower jaw had cracked free of the rest of my face. “Deal.”

“Shit,” Scootaloo said, rubbing the back of her head. “Was kind of expecting you to not want to go to one of those stores, or not know where one was, or…” I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. That was dumb.”

        “And you’re not going to back out of your deal, are you?” I asked, leaning closer against her. “Because you know what’s going to happen if you try to get out of it, right?”

        “Uhmm… not really,” Scootaloo said, swallowing. 

        I giggled and whispered in her ear. “Neither do I, but I’m sure it’ll be fun.” Before she could say anything else, my lips were pressed against hers, my hoof moved towards– Somepony knocked on the door. Of course, she had to come now. Right when I was about to… I sat up straight and glanced back at my reflection in the window. A few hairs out of place, face slightly flushed, but I was good enough. I took a couple of breaths to steady myself and calm my heart and trotted to the door, plastering a smile on my face.

        “I’m so glad you could make it,” I said, opening the door and looking at the mare on the other side. Definitely older than me. Her mane and coat were probably a sharp black and white contrast in her youth, but they’d both greyed with age. Considering her cutie mark was a rolled-up newspaper, if it wasn’t for her jade eyes, she’d be all monochromatic. 

        She gave me a tight-lipped smile and trotted past me into the living room. “So, this is the heart of Equestrian debauchery,” she said, looking around. “I was expecting it to look… different. Gaudier.” And we were off to a great start. Had I already done something wrong?

        “Uhmm… sorry?” I asked, tilting my head and looking to Scootaloo for support. “Can I get you something to drink?”

        “Is there a chance you have any non-alcoholic beverages?” she asked, looking at my kitchen. I kept my smile up.

        “Actually, since…” Since what? Since you ruined my life? Since Bright Lights aired all my dirty laundry? Since I almost died? “I’ve been working hard to change since all the stories broke, and I’m happy to say this penthouse is now liquor-free.” Well… mostly, but the exception was pretty well hidden.

        “Really?” Write Thinking asked, raising an eyebrow as I trotted into the kitchen to pour us three glasses of water. “So, once the scandal broke, you decided to clean up your image.”

        I leapt back into the conversation before Scootaloo could do something stupid, like rushing in to defend my honor. “You know, after Bright Lights left, I went to a dark place. I guess I hit rock bottom or whatever. Anyways, I had to do a lot of soul searching after that, and I really am trying to do better. No more drugs. No more drinking. No more orgies.”

        “So you admit Bright Lights’ accusations are true,” Write Thinking said as I trotted back into the living room. She glanced at Scootaloo. “And I was under the impression this interview was to be one-on-one.”

        I set our glasses of water down on the coffee table and took my seat next to Scootaloo, careful to give us some space apart – more distance than I’d like – and smiled at Write Thinking. “This is my friend Scootaloo, she’s been with me for every step of my recovery, and is here strictly for moral support. And… yeah, I don’t remember everything Bright Lights accused me of, but they were probably true. That’s not the point, though. The point is that I’m really trying to be better. That’s good, right?”

        She stared at me, pulling a notebook out of her saddlebags and jotting something down. “If what you’re saying isn’t just an act, if you’re rededicating yourself to the life of virtue and shunning vice, then yes, of course, it’s good. However, I’m smart enough to know that most ponies who do this song and dance act are doing just that: acting.”

        “So what, you’re not even going to give her a chance?” Scootaloo yelled. “‘Cause she messed up once, you’re not going to forgive her?”

        “Scootaloo, please, I can handle this myself,” I said, turning and smiling at my marefriend. She just looked at me confused. 

        “Uhh… I didn’t say anything, Sweetie,” she said. “I want to, but I’m also not going to break your rules.” I winced as Write Thinking scribbled. 

        “Rules?” Write Thinking asked. “What rules does she have?” Even better. I took a deep breath. This was fine. Everything was fine.

        “It’s nothing,” I said, smiling and giving Scootaloo a look that promised a night of punishment if she said another word, and a different night of punishment if she didn’t. “Just… I wanted to do this interview by myself. I know back before… you know, I was kind of infamous for letting Bright Lights answer most of my questions.”

        “I see,” Write Thinking said, giving a nod. “Now, let’s talk about Bright Lights, shall we. You admit her accusations are true? That she served as your assistant for three years, and during that time, was forced to keep you supplied with a vast assortment of drugs and plan parties that featured all manner of depravity for your own amusement.”

        “That…” I bit my lower lip. “Up until I’d met her, I’d never used drugs. I didn’t even know Joy existed. She was the one who let me know about it.”

        “Yes, I heard that story from her,” Write Thinking said. “And then you told her to buy some for you. Forced her to, even though she explained at length about how she’s opposed to such things. Is that true?”

        “No!” I shouted. “That’s… I didn’t force her to do anything, she offered, and… is she really saying she doesn’t do drugs now?”

        “So you saw her take drugs then?” Write Thinking asked then. “When and how much? Were there any witnesses that can corroborate your story? Or are they just the excuses of a broken mare pathetically trying to justify her failure?”

        That… A spike of pain went through my horn and I gritted my teeth. “No, I never saw her do anything, but if she was so freaking opposed to it, then why did she go out of her way to keep me out of my head for three years? I can’t even remember most of those days, and the ones I do, I don’t want to. If she thought it was wrong, why did she tell me all about how happy they could make me? And aren’t you supposed to be impartial?”

        “Because she loved you, Sweetie Belle,” Write Thinking said. I narrowed my eyes and focused on the way her lips moved. Something was wrong, but I couldn’t quite– “She was willing to do anything to keep you happy, and you abused that love for your own hedonistic fulfillment. Because that’s what you are: a mare incapable of feeling for anypony but herself.”

        “No, I’m not!” I shouted. “And how dare you! I’m trying to…” The world doubled, with two Write Thinkings sitting next to each other. “I’m trying to show you how much I changed, and you’re sitting there accusing me of being broken.”

        “Sweetie, what are you–” Scootaloo said, but Write Thinking talked through her, as the light faded through the room. 

        “I am impartial, but this isn’t a matter of opinion. Your brokenness, your selfishness, your failure... They aren’t debatable; they’re facts, and everypony’s going to know what a miserable broken mare you are,” Write Thinking said, looking like she was concerned as she shouted terrible things. 

        Sweetie, remember your condition. Take a breath. Calm down. You know what happens when you get upset. Oh, right. Yeah, that. I closed my eyes and took some deep breaths, pinging the outside world with my magic and sensing the thin web of Dreaming I’d wrapped around myself. Another pulse of magic burned it away and I opened my eyes. “Sorry,” I said, trying to get the smile to fit back on my face. “What did I miss?”

        “I was hoping you could tell me that, Miss Belle,” Write Thinking said. I looked away from her to my own hooves. Yeah, that… of course, she’d want the truth.

        One more breath. This couldn’t be that hard. Maybe not say all the Luna stuff, because who knows if Dreamwalking is supposed to be a state secret, but the rest of it? “I have brain damage,” I said after a minute. “All the drug use… When Bright Lights left me, she’d spent so long making me completely dependent on her, I didn’t know how to take care of myself, and I couldn’t stand being sober, so I took every drug I could get my hooves on. I don’t know exactly what I took or how much, but it all did something to my head. Since I woke up, I’ve been having these stupid hallucinations. Sometimes, they aren’t so bad, and I just see Bright Lights tormenting me–” I laughed, that’s what I was calling ‘not so bad’ now. “–and other times, I slip into my own head and completely lose touch with the world. Arguing with ponies that aren’t there, or walking through memories of things that I’m not even sure ever really happened...” I pointed a hoof at the crack in the window. “That’s from where I almost threw myself out. If Scootaloo hadn’t come in right where she did…” 

        Write Thinking was staring at me, something that almost looked like sympathy in her eyes. Telling her Scootaloo only came in when she did because I turned omniscient and possibly planned this whole thing out probably wouldn’t help my story much. “So, yeah, if I start acting weird or just stare off into space, I’m not trying to be rude or anything, I’m just... trying to keep myself together.”

        Like that’s going to happen.

        “I see,” she said, making another note in her notepad. Between her and Doctor Hooves, there were probably going to be notepads just full of me. “That’s…” She frowned. “You’re not what I expected.”

        “Yeah, that sounds about right,” I said, laughing to myself. “I’m kind of not what I imagined either. I keep trying to figure it out, but I can never get a good grip on it.” Like one of those pictures with a pyramid that’s pointing to you one second, and pointing away the next. There was the me before Bright Lights and the me after, and the second I saw one, it switched to the other. And neither of them are real.

        “So…” I rubbed the back of my head. “What else do you want to know?”

        She pressed a smile. “Let’s start at the beginning.”


♪♪♪


        “Tell me more about those last hours in the penthouse. Give me a really strong image I can sell to the readers.” I blinked. Another stallion interviewing me. How many had that made it in the last two days? Ever since Write Thinking published her story, it was like the whole world had shifted. 

        I smiled, remembering the way Mom burst into my room, forcing me to read Write’s article. It was… It wasn’t an apology, but it wasn’t an attack, either, and it was the first story Mom’d actually wanted me to read since I woke up in the hospital. By the end of the day, she’d arranged five more interviews.

        “That’s…” I hissed, as a torrent of broken memories washed over me. “I’m not really comfortable talking about all that–”

        “Please, Sweetie,” he said, keeping his eyes on me as he wrote in a notebook identical to the one he had on his flank. “The readers need to know.”

        “You don’t need to–” Scootaloo started. She didn’t finish before I gave her the look. 

        “I know,” I said, turning back to… what was this one’s name? “So, you want an image? Does blood on the carpet from a cut-up hoof work? I’d tell you how much, but I honestly don’t know. First, I didn’t realize I’d cut my hoof because I was so out of it, and then… I don’t know, I just saw the whole room go red, like I was drowning in blood, which… I don’t think that’s true.” I pointed a hoof at the window. “Or maybe a crack in the window from where I almost jumped to my death because I thought my audience was out there would work better. Or maybe waking up in a hospital feeling like the dead? I’ve got a lot of little images and sensations from there. Feeling like I was drowning, like I was falling, like I was dying. There’s not much of a story there, just a bunch of scenes that kept smashing and dissolving into each other, but… I can do images.”

        There was a long pause where the only sound was pen on parchment. Guess he liked at least one of those. “Is there anything else?” I asked, looking at him.

        “No, I think I have what I need,” he said, putting the notebook in his saddlebag. It was going to be a pity story, then. I didn’t know for sure – there’d only been the one new story published – but after enough interviews, you started getting a sense. In a day or so, whatever paper he worked for would publish a story about the poor, broken, sinner Sweetie, publishing my pain for Equestria. I took a swig of my water, imagining it was anything but.

        “You know, you don’t have to keep doing these interviews,” Scootaloo said once the door had clicked shut. I think I might’ve said goodbye to the interviewer as he walked to the door. “I know you hate them.”

        “Yeah, well, at least they aren’t hating me anymore,” I said, drowning in my drink and thinking of the secret compartment where I’d hidden something stronger. “And I can’t wait to read the Star’s story on me.”

        “But they just spent an hour asking you about all the crazy sex stuff you got up to,” Scootaloo said. 

        I grinned. “And they didn’t ask a single question about how all that awful stuff made me feel, or the…” I shuddered and pointed a hoof at the crack in the glass. Twilight’d said she could fix it. I didn’t let her. It made for a good story in the interviews if I had something I could point to. Plus, it made sure I remembered. “No dredging up painful memories, just asking what my favorite stories were.” I hummed, remembering how the reported scrabbled to write down all my stories at me and finished the interview looking at me like I was Celestia. “I hope they use that Queen of Kink title again.”

        Scootaloo rolled her eyes, not getting it. Or maybe getting it, but not liking it. “Well, I think you’ve done enough interviews.”

        “And Mom doesn’t,” I said, frowning. “She thinks, and I kind of agree with her, that if we do a bunch of interviews at once, ponies will get tired of reading about me, and then, when she and Twilight do their engagement announcement, the story will move to them.” I got up and trotted to the kitchen, pouring myself another glass of water. What were the odds Scootaloo would leave me alone long enough to sneak a drink? Not very. I stopped and grinned. But then, who said she had to have a choice in the matter?

        “Scootaloo!” I said, steeling my voice. “Put on the dress, run – trot daintily – to the corner bakery, and pick up something for me to eat before the next interview.” I paused, chewing my lip and thinking. “Get something for yourself, too.”

        “Wait,” she said, trotting into the kitchen, “you want me to put on the dress?” Technically, it wasn’t so much a dress as it was a shirt and skirt combo, both cut short and bright, bright pink.

        “Mmm-hmm,” I said, nodding. “You aren’t going to complain, are you? Because if you are, you could wear that thing we got at the one shop, instead.” She gulped. Too hard, and she’d Rainbow Dash, and then I’d lose. I had to get that right balance, hit her pride and goad her into humiliating herself. Too soft or too hard, and she’d Rainbow Dash. Hmm, I wonder what she’d do when we talked to regular Rainbow Dash. I guess it would be fine if I wasn’t bossing her around, but if I was… We’d think of something.

        “Nope, I’m good,” she said, looking out into the living room. “Just… I left the dress at the hotel.”

        I rolled my eyes and sighed, knocking my water back like it was vodka. Soon, it would be. “Then run to the hotel, and then daintily trot to the bakery.”

        “But then half the city will see me wearing that. How is that supposed to… If I wear it in the hotel, Rarity will know we messed with her design,” she said.

        “Even better,” I said, trotting to the couch and sitting down, looking out the window and through the crack. “The whole point is to humiliate you, so if she knows you’re wearing her dress like that… I can only imagine how embarrassing that conversation will be.”

        “Okay, fine, but then she’ll know that you’re–” I cut her off.

        “That I’m some sort of crazy perverted sex deviant? Newsflash, Scootaloo, everypony in Equestria knows that. Honestly, she’ll probably be relieved that we’re just mixing dress-play with humiliation-slash-BDSM stuff. Considering what I was up to, this is a huge improvement. So… one more word, and you’re telling her everything we get up to,” I said, staring her down. Did I really want to talk to Mom about all my sex stuff? Not really, but it was a lie Scootaloo wouldn’t have a problem buying. The perks of reputation.

        “Fine,” she grumbled, trotting to the door. I got up to follow, planting a kiss on her neck and embracing her. 

        “You know you love this stuff,” I crooned into her ear. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t keep agreeing to it.”

        “Maybe,” she said, tension leaving at my touch. This really isn’t fair to her. Three years learning under Bright Lights, and somepony like her is putty in your hoof. Yes, thank you, guilt. It didn’t matter. She still liked it. Wanted me to manipulate her. I was just giving her what she wanted.

        Did Bright Lights have the same thoughts?

        I smiled at Scootaloo, and planted a follow-up kiss on her lips. Something to grow and smolder and tide her over until whatever game I cooked up tonight. Maybe I could see about getting her into whips. She liked being humiliated, but so far we’d only explored social humiliation. There was a whole other dimension we could get into if we brought physical pain into the mix. I tilted my head as she trotted out the door. At the very least, I could bust out the suspension gear.

        A few more breaths after Scootaloo left, waiting to make sure she was down the elevator, and then I was flying to the secret compartment with my bottle of rum in it. Easy enough to get to, but they still hadn’t found it.

        “That, or they trust you,” Mom said, standing behind me as I uncorked the bottle.

        “Ugh, I don’t get what the big deal is,” I said, looking at the bottle of rum floating in front of me. “Everypony drinks. Scootaloo does, you do… I don’t go around drinking all the time, I just… want to take the edge off, now and then.”

        “We already had this conversation, Sweetie,” she said, and I could feel her eyes on the back of my neck. Maybe I was just imagining it, but with her, that was kind of the same thing, wasn’t it? 

        “Yeah, we did,” I said, trotting to my nightstand, and avoiding all the paintings we’d hidden in my room. I’d hate to spill anything on them. “And if you’ll remember, I got rid of all my drugs. I’m being better, I just don’t see the harm in a drink now and then. I’m not acting like before.”

        “Really?” Mom asked, tilting her head. “So you’re not manipulating friends and family for your own gain? Because from where I’m at, that seems like the–”

        “Well, it’s not,” I said, glaring at her as I finished pouring the glass. “This is different. Yes, I’m manipulating them, but…”

        “Yes?” Mom asked, ears perking up.

        “But it’s different. I’m not the same stupid filly who got twisted into going off to Manehattan. I’m trying to be the mare you and Scootaloo want me to be, I just… sometimes, I need some time off.”

        “Sweetie, we want you to be yourself, nothing more or less,” Mom said as I looked down at my glass and took a sip before putting the bottle back in its hiding place.

        “And I’m trying to be her, like, the me I want to be, but sometimes I don’t want to be that me. Some days, everything kind of hurts, and I can’t... Some days I just want to be…” I paused and saw my reflection in the bottle I was putting away. “Her.”

        “You mean avoiding your problems by drinking them down?” Mom asked, glaring at me before sighing. I closed the cabinet and trotted back to the living room. She was never more than a few steps behind me. “Yes, I can certainly see the appeal, but I’m not sure what it accomplishes.”

        I snorted and took another sip of my drink, savoring the familiar burn in my throat. If I was being smart, I’d probably mix it with something, but some days… some days you wanted to burn. “If I wanted to drink my problems down, I wouldn’t be doing any of this. I wouldn’t have given up all my drugs, I wouldn’t be going weeks at a time sober, I wouldn’t be dealing with these stupid interviews, I’d just be drinking and popping pills and everything would be great, but I’m not, am I?” I sat my glass down, spun around, and glared at her. “I’m being good. I’m being good, like, ninety percent of the time, okay, so why do you have to start guilt-tripping me the minute I have a drink? Oh, right, because no matter what I do, I always find a way to hate myself.” 

        There was quiet as we let my last words hang in the air. “I…” I took a breath. “I’m so tired. If I’m being bad, you keep telling me to be good. If I’m being good, Bright Lights is always there to drag me down. It’s great, right?”

        Mom moved a few inches from me and stroked my mane. Even though she was just a dream, I could still feel the phantom touch. “Don’t you think you should tell somepony about this, Sweetie? Somepony outside your head, I mean.”

        “Probably,” I said, taking my seat on the same sofa I’d given a dozen interviews on and floating my drink over to me. “But I’m not exactly looking forward to telling Mom or Scootaloo about how much I hate myself. Or how I have a secret drink stash hidden in the penthouse, but that’s for a different reason. Also, I should probably figure out how to hide more drinks. I don’t think that bottle’s going to last forever.”

        “Then don’t tell them,” Mom said, rolling her eyes. “You have other ponies who can listen to you. Tell Doctor Hooves or Luna, if you’re worried about judgment, just tell somepony outside your head. There’s nothing I can tell you that you don’t already suspect.”

        “Fine,” I said, tossing the rest of my drink back. “I’ll tell Luna tonight, happy?”

        “Happier,” she said, beginning to fade away around the edges. “And Sweetie, please don’t start isolating yourself again. We both know how that story ends.” Her eyes flicked to the crack and I frowned, looking away to my empty glass. Yeah, we knew pretty well. I took a breath to clear my head and waited for Scootaloo to come back, planning my talk with Luna as I sat.


♪♪♪


        The Princess of the Night stared down at me, eyes as cold as the stars. “So… that’s basically it,” I said, rubbing the back of my head as dreams swirled around us.

        “How often are you drinking?” she asked, keeping her eyes trained on me. 

        “It’s just been a couple of times since I woke up in the hospital. Once the first night Scootaloo and I had sex in the penthouse, and the second was today after I finished one of my interviews. Both times, I hallucinated my Mom trying to stop me. Today, she told me to talk to you.” Also, the first night I drank, I chased my rum down with some Joy. Yeah, that probably wouldn’t go well.

        “Well then, it seems you still possess some measure of good sense,” Luna said before lying down to get closer to my eye level. “Although I suppose I can’t blame you. There were many nights when I desperately wanted for some solace, and I suppose it’s easier to give up world domination than drinking.”

        “Plus, you had some crazy corrupting influence take you over,” I said. “I was just a stupid teenager.”

        “So was I,” Luna said, shrugging. “Well, in a way. I was several centuries old, actually, but according to Tia, I was at that age where impulses were strong, heady, and intoxicating, which I believe is the gist of being a teenager. Besides, Bright Lights seems as corrupting an influence as any.”

        “Okay, yeah, I guess she is a little, but you were actually possessed. They had to bring out the Elements of Harmony and everything to save you. I just…” I frowned, looking for my mom’s familiar dream-gem.

        “Fell into drug-addled madness and had to be saved from your worse half?” Luna asked, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, our stories are so completely different.”

        “Fine,” I said, biting back a hundred objections. “So how’d you do it? How’d you look at Celestia every day, see the mare she wanted you to be, and know you weren’t good enough? How did you handle the weight of all her expectations crushing down on you until you feel like the only thing you can do to make it better is have a drink?”

        “Well, Sweetie,” Luna said. “Before we get into that, perhaps we should establish just what it is your mother and Scootaloo expect from you. Do they expect you to become a world-renowned singer? Do they expect anything other than for you to find some level of contentment and stability?”

        “No,” I said, shaking my head. “If they did, I wouldn’t feel so bad about having trouble. Like, I can’t even go a day without being a little crazy or bad. Plus, Scootaloo wants me to be a little crazy, and I really like that, but that doesn’t help me feel better. What does it say about me if my favorite parts of the day are when I’m playing whatever weird humiliating game I planned with Scootaloo? What if the things that make me happy aren’t the things they want me to like?”

        “Well, from what you told me, it seems like you and Scootaloo have found ways to delight and celebrate in your peculiarities, and it brings the both of you joy despite your understandable misgivings,” Luna said, turning from me to look at Scootaloo’s dream crystal. “Her dreams have been quiet since you two started your relationship.”

        “Can I look?” I asked, taking a step toward the crystal. Luna held up a wing to stop me.

        “Is that truly something you wish?” she asked, holding the gem with her magic and pushing it deeper into the swarm of gems. “Seeing the innermost dreams of a lover isn’t something most ponies are prepared to handle. In dreams, minds stray and inner fantasies are revealed. Do you wish to see that curtain peeled back?”

        I frowned and looked up at her. “I… guess not. Are they bad? Does she dream about other mares?”

        Luna raised an eyebrow. “Me telling you would defeat the purpose, I think, but I will say you’re a recurring character in her dreams, although perhaps not always as you are.”

        That… Okay, I definitely didn’t want to know. Because I could imagine one way she’d like to see me, and… Nope! Not thinking about that. Too gross. If she was still thinking about stallions, I’d have to step up my game.

        “Yeah, you’re right, I probably don’t want to know,” I said, turning away from the wall of gems. “So, what’s the plan for tonight? More lessons or exercises, or what?”

        “Actually,” Luna said, slowly bobbing her head. “I was thinking we might practice combat in the dreaming. In many ways, it’s an extension of what we’ve been working on, but it’s better you know how to fight if I ever have you patrolling the outskirts of the Dreaming with me.”

        “Really? You’re going to teach me how to fight stuff?” I asked, tilting my head as I tried to figure out whether I was scared or excited. On the one hoof, I’d know how to fight, which I guess is cool – but on the other hoof, that meant things would be fighting me. Big nightmarish things. I flicked my tail. But how much worse could they be than Bright Lights? And it’s not like knowing how to fight meant I’d be in a fight; it was just a safety thing.

        “If you will it,” Luna said, lighting up her horn and sending us to a barren plain where the stars danced overhead. She really liked having her stars dance for some reason. Whenever we were in one of her dream-nightscapes, they were always moving. “You’ve learned much during your study, and if your wish is solely to gain enough mastery not to endanger others, you’ve accomplished it – but if your wish is for mastery of the Dreaming, there’s still so much more you can learn.”

        “Right,” I said, nodding. “Hey, even if I stop learning under you, we can still hang out in the Dreaming, right? Because I’d really rather not spend all night in my head. It’s… not a fun place.”

        Luna nodded. “If that is your wish. I’ll admit, I enjoy having somepony accompany me for my vigils.”

        “Okay,” I said, looking down at my hooves and the grass. “I just wanted to make sure we’d still be friends if you stopped teaching me, but…” What did I want? I guess I could stop and all that, but her lessons let me do something, and unlike everything else, I was kind of making progress here. “I’ll do it. I’ll keep studying, I mean.”

        “Hmm,” Luna said. “I’m pleased to hear it. There’s still so much more you can learn, and so much more of the Dreaming I wish to share.” Her horn lit up. “Now, as the Prench say, en garde!”

        Before I could do anything, the ground around me exploded and warped, and I was encased in a ball of dirt. A tiny prison chamber with barely enough room to move. “Much like all things in the Dreaming, combat is simply a matter of will,” Luna said, her voice coming from inside the dirt ball. “Your will to break free must surpass my will to bind you in earth. Oh, and try not to think about running out of air; otherwise, you will.”

        You’re doomed.

        Instead of biting back, I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing, each breath carrying out bad thoughts until it was just me. I filled my head with the image of the earth ball crumbling and pushed.

        And pushed.

        And pushed.

        And the wall still stood. I sighed and slumped against one of the walls. “I told you you were doomed,” Bright Lights whispered into my ear, the tomb suddenly becoming a lot smaller as dirt smudged into one side of my coat. “When are you going to start listening to me?”

        Okay, that was probably crazy, right? If you’re thinking about it, it is. I probed at the dirt with my magic, ignoring the way my dream Bright Lights was pressed so tight against me. I sent a ping at her, too, making sure she was just a dream and not the real Bright Lights. I hadn’t accidentally pulled someone from one of their dreams since my first nights in the Dreaming, but better to be safe than sorry.

        A pulse of magic sent her fading away. Good, not the real her, then. For the second time that night, I closed my eyes and willed. Ponies pressed against me. Bright Lights, Scootaloo, Rarity, Twilight, Diamond Tiara, Melody, Apple Bloom, Life Bloom, even a dream Princess Luna all poofed into existence, and pressed against the dirt. An instant later, it all collapsed around us and a swarm of ponies came tumbling out, most disappearing the second I took my mind off them.

        “Impressive,” Luna said, a tiny smile on her lips. “All the horrors of the Dreaming are shockingly dumb, and fights between us devolve into battles of will versus will – but a creative opponent? Would it speak ill of me if I suddenly thought this fight fun? A chance to stretch my Dreaming muscles?”

        I smiled back and my horn pulsed with magic, sending the dirt fading away and leaving the two of us floating in the stars, while the surviving dream ponies fell away. “Well, it is kind of fun. Like one of those games in an arcade, but more creative.” A memory came to me unbidden of the Hearth’s Warming where I teetered on the edge of a cliff. “Oh! It’s like that game Octavia and Vinyl play, but real… Or real-er.”

        Luna waved a wing and the stars above us began to fall. “I fail to see the connection between a dream duel and some game. Also, I believe it’s your move.”

        My head tilted up, watching as the black in the night shrank away, stars growing bigger and bigger and merging with each other as they fell. In a few more seconds, the sky would be a big blob of fire. In a few more seconds, everything under it would be burned away. Unless… I looked around. The night sky was missing its moon. That wouldn’t do.

        I closed my eyes and the world roared, air whipping past me as the dark side of the moon hung above Luna and me. Outside its shadow, fire fell. “Look, they’re both creative things where you kind of imagine a world. Their game is about roleplaying, though, and our game is about…” A surge of dream magic coated me, flowing from my horn, and I popped out of existence, emerging a second later on the other side of the moon, which had now melted and burned away to more of a half-moon. “How was that not going to kill me? It burned away half the moon!”

        “Ponies die in dreams all the time,” Luna said, suddenly appearing next to me, but somehow hearing everything I’d just said. “And then, you wake up.” She frowned and flapped her wings, sending gusts of arctic air blowing down at the moon’s molten surface. “And how dare you use the moon against me. The impudence of such a thing.”

        I laughed as she focused on taking care of the dream moon instead of fighting me. Behind her, a pool of water formed and froze, kicked forward by the same wind she was moving to cool the moon. “Come on, you’re just mad you didn’t think of doing it first.” She looked at me, still not seeing the chunk of ice headed towards her. I smiled. “Also, I win.”

        Her head whipped around just in time for the ice blob to crash into her, shattering on impact as she flickered into and out of existence. “Well done,” she said, picking a piece of ice off her coat. “You managed to take me out with, what I believe is colloquially referred to as, a sucker punch. It was clever and inventive, but if you’re fighting the creatures of the Dreaming, that won’t help you as much as will and discipline will. If you dropped a chunk of ice on a Night Terror, it would be too stupid to know that should kill it.” She pulled a moon out of a basket ball out of the air and set it between us. “Here, you will the ball towards me, and I’ll will it towards you. Whoever the ball touches first, loses.”

        A beam of soft-blue magic shot from her horn and wrapped around the tiny moon. I shot my own sap-green magic at the moon and tried to press it towards Luna. It didn’t budge. “On your mark, Sweetie Belle,” Luna said, smiling.

        “Alright,” I said, taking a deep breath and trying to calm myself. This was going to be fine. I actually beat Luna in the creativity fight, and I’d gotten a lot better at willpower stuff. I could do at least okay against her. “Three… two… one…” I focused my will at it and pushed forward. Instead of moving away, the moon shot towards me, closing the gap in the blink of an eye and then… I looked down to see a hole cutting between my top half and bottom half. A tickle of blue magic surrounded me an instant later and my body merged back together.

        “Well,” Luna said, flapping her wings to cross the void between us. “It seems you need to work on your willpower exercises.”

        How… My jaw worked up and down as I tried to think up something to say. “You said if I died in the Dreaming, I’d wake up.”

        “You’re right,” Luna said, conjuring land beneath us and setting me down. “But in this instance, the damage happened so quickly and unexpectedly that you didn’t have time to process it. Much like a Night Terror, you didn’t realize you were dead, so you didn’t die. If I’d given you a bit more time to think before fixing you, you probably would have woken up.”

        I frowned, staring at my hooves. “I thought I was getting better at willpower stuff.” The stupid whisper in my head just laughed.

        Luna smiled and patted my mane. “Now, Sweetie, your Dreaming skills have improved immensely since we started training, and your willpower has gotten better, at least in the Dreaming. I’m sure if you spend a thousand years practicing, you’ll be able to put up a respectable showing. Of course, by then, I’ll have had a thousand extra years of practice as well, so…” She shrugged. “Perhaps not.”

        “Wait, a thousand years?” I asked. Sure, she was over a thousand years old, but she’d been Nightmare Moon for a millennium. “So… Does that mean...?”

        “You’d be surprised how little there is to do trapped inside the moon,” Luna said, taking a seat next to me and sending the damaged moon back up to the stars. “Lots of time for willpower exercises.”

        “So, you kept your Nightmare Moon skills?” I asked.

        “You kept the skills gained from the lifestyle you rejected,” Luna said, tilting her head. “I fail to see an appreciable difference. We can keep the good while still rejecting the life.”

        “I guess that’s true,” I said as Luna formed another moon-ball. “Wait, you think there was something good about all that…” I waved a hoof and pulled us into the penthouse, complete with ponies writhing and… a pulse of my horn’s magic emptied it out. “Sorry.”

        She smiled and gripped the ball with her magic. “I believe Scootaloo finds something enjoyable about your forbidden knowledge, and love it or hate it, you owe the mare you are now to her, just as much as I owe my existence towards Nightmare Moon.”

        “But Nightmare Moon was awful,” I started before Luna tossed the mini-moon at me. I caught it just an inch from my face.

        “I’m not disputing that, Sweetie,” Luna said, smile vanished as she dragged the moon back to its midpoint. “But so much of me is a reaction to her. Before her, I was incautious and impulsive. A reckless fool who thought she knew all the answers. Now, I have a degree of temperance and wisdom, and that’s owed as a reaction to her.”

        “Didn’t you already tell me this stuff?” I asked, frowning. It sounded familiar, but… I’d been hearing a lot of the same things from different voices lately.

        “Perhaps,” Luna said, shrugging. “But that just means you need to take my lessons to heart, instead of letting them flow into one ear and out the other like a stream uninterrupted.” She was definitely getting irritated if she was falling into flowery language. If she started breaking out the royal We next, I’d done something to really annoy her. “But do you dispute my position? How much of what you deem good about you stems as a consequence or reaction from the years you spent here?”

        That was… Scootaloo definitely liked some of the things I’d learned, and… well, I knew what I didn’t want to be, thanks to here, so… I winced. “Probably a lot.” 

        “Then you see my point,” Luna said. “Now, I will be distracting myself this round, so if you truly focus yourself, you might have a chance against me. At least, you shouldn’t have to worry about my moon punching a hole through you again.” I narrowed my eyes. We had a few more hours until her next patrol, I could win at least one round against her.


♪♪♪


        I couldn’t. At all. One time, I got it most of the way over to her, then she bounced back harder. She said I distracted myself thinking about how I was finally going to win a round... I say she just stopped holding back so much. Either way, if we’d been in the Waking world, I’d be wearing a coat of bruises for days. Instead, the aches only lasted a second or two after I registered the sun hitting my eyes. Sunlight, so we hadn’t fallen asleep in the inner room of my penthouse. That left the regular bedroom, or the hotel.

        “What time is it?” I groaned, rolling onto my back as my eyes opening.

        “Almost eleven,” Scootaloo said next to me. I tilted my head over and saw a few newspapers stacked on the nightstand. I smiled. The first wave of interviews were coming out.

        “Anything good?” I asked, reaching over to grab a newspaper off the stack. I could have just used my magic, but then Scootaloo wouldn’t get the feeling of my body pressing against hers in the morning, and how could I deny her that? Plus, that way, I got to feel the warmth of her fur, too, so it was kind of a win-win.

        “See for yourself,” Scootaloo said, grinning. “I went out earlier this morning with your Mom to pick them up. Kind of thought you’d be up when I got back. You must’ve been really tired.”

        “Well, I got a workout last night,” I said, smiling as I flipped through the paper, looking for the entertainment section. “Technically, I think you got more of a workout, since you were the one in suspension, but you work out all the time.”

        “Sweetie, would you have gotten any exercise in the last three years if it hadn’t been for all your sex stuff?” Scootaloo asked. I tilted my head as I found the first article.

        “Technically, I think being in a stage production is a pretty big workout, since you’ve got rehearsals and singing exercises and lots of standing and walking, but… beyond that, no,” I said. The smile on my lips vanished as I read the article. There it was. All my confessions and sorrys and begging spilled out on the page, for everypony to read. They put my worst memories of my life on display, and now I was begging for their mercy.

        My eyes narrowed, a sting of rage pricking my stomach. Why? I hadn’t hurt any of them. The only pony I’d hurt was myself, but I was apologizing to them for giving them something to gossip about. Why was I begging for their forgiveness?

        “Are the rest like this?” I asked, throwing the paper away with my magic.

No more. I wasn’t going to apologize to ponies I didn’t hurt. I wasn’t going to act like I’d committed some awful crime. I knew my mistakes, I’d suffered, and they’d enjoyed every stupid second of it, and turned me into a monster for their fun. But you are a monster. The only paper that treated me fair was–

        “Except for the Star’s story, yeah, and it’s–” I launched over her to pull The Midnight Star from the pile and laughed. To them, I was front page news, and to get there, I didn’t have to apologize an inch.

        “Oh, this is great,” I said, skimming through the papers. “They even got pictures. I think they made them up, but still.” I held up the inside page for her to look at. It was me in a penthouse – not my penthouse, but still a penthouse – with lots of ponies and black bars everywhere. “I think they did a pretty good job recreating the scene, don’t you?” I flipped through some more pages. “Now, did they touch on the drug use, or was it just the sex?” Beyond a few lines about me starting each party with some Joy, and saying I passed out pills for party favors, nope. It was all about the parties, which was fine by me. The sex was probably the least bad stuff I did back then. Except for the singing, I guess.

        “Okay, so you don’t care about the stories that are saying how much you regretted what you did, but you like the story that– that– embraces all the bad stuff you did?” Scootaloo asked, putting a hoof over the paper and bringing it down so I had to look at her.

        I rolled my eyes. “First, yes, I like the one article that doesn’t pity me, what a shock, and second, you don’t seem to have a problem embracing all the ‘bad stuff’ I did when I’m coming up with games for us to play.” I hopped out of bed and glared at her. “Do I hate the drug use? Yes. Did I drink too much? Sure. But the sex? That was fun. I’m not apologizing for it.” Or anything else.

        Besides, you have so much to be ashamed over already. The drugs, hurting everypony you cared about, turning into a spoiled monster… I clenched my jaw. No more apologies.  “Say one more word about this, and I’ll… Just drop it.”

        “Whatever,” Scootaloo said as I trotted to the door. “You know, I really don’t get you sometimes. One day, you want to be normal, hate everything you did, and just want to go back to being the old Sweetie, and then the next day, you’re celebrating it.”

        I laughed and flicked my tail in her face. “Like you want me to be normal. You’d go out of your mind if I started acting like old Sweetie.”

        “No, I…” She stopped. “Okay, I like bossy dominant Sweetie, but it wouldn’t kill you to act more like the old Sweetie, would it? You know, the sane normal one.”

        That was… I tried not to laugh. Scootaloo had no idea what she wanted. She wanted bossy Sweetie and old Sweetie at the same time. And she thought you were ever sane and normal. Ugh, even the voice in my head was right this time. Was I ever not broken? Sure, I wasn’t as broken back before I went to the Academy, but the cracks were still there, right?

        “Hey, Mom,” I said, shoving the thoughts to the side as I trotted into the main room of the suite. “So, what are we going to do now that the stories are coming out?”

        “Oh, yes, well… that might be a small problem,” Mom said, looking up from the table where she was sitting next to Twilight, a bunch of books around them. “You see, for us to do the engagement announcement properly, we have to be at Twilight’s castle, but I also feel that the best time for you to do your first performance is on the eve of the announcement, and it would be better if that happened in the next few days, while the public still has their desire for scandal sated by the glut of interviews we’ve had coming out…” She just kept going, outlining the whole strategy she’d planned for me. Maybe Mom’d missed her calling as a general, or maybe Twilight just helped her out a bunch. “So, I think it would be best if you showed up at the Mondé Café during their open-mic night this Tuesday. Our announcement will happen the next morning, and nopony will be expecting you to give a performance, but…”

        “That means you’ll have to go to Ponyville while I stay in Manehattan,” I said, figuring out the next part before she could say it. 

        “Uhmm… yes, I believe this will be the best strategy, I really do, but I understand if you wish for me to stay or want to accompany me. The plan is nothing if not flexible,” she said, smiling and looking at Twilight. “It is flexible, right?”

        Twilight rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes. “If we’d gone with my original idea, no, but with your open-mic addition… Yes. Yes, we should be fine if we make some changes to it.”

        I shook my head. “It’s fine,” I said, trotting back to my marefriend. “I’ll still have Scootaloo with me, and it’s not like you’re going away forever. Just a few days so you can make your announcement.”

        “Right,” Mom said, nodding her head. “Although… Twilight has been away from her court for a rather long time, and she’ll have to get back to work sooner rather than later, I’m afraid. Once we make the announcement, it might be a rather long while before we can slip away to Manehattan again, especially since I’ll have to deal with proving myself to the local nobility once I make my declaration of royalty.”

        “Sounds…” Okay, so Mom and Twilight were going back to Ponyville for more than a few days, that was completely fine. If I wanted to, I could go with them, but… I frowned. I didn’t want to. Did I want to spend more time with Mom? Sure. Did I want to leave Manehattan? Not really, and I definitely didn’t want to leave Scootaloo, although I could probably just convince her to come with me.

        “Oh good, impose on her more, that’s just what she wants,” Bright Lights hissed in my ear. What was with the voices in my head having a point today? Between her and the generic voice in my head, they were both kind of making sense. Was that a good thing or bad thing, though? 

        “Uhmm… would it be okay if I stayed here? I’ll visit all the time, I promise, and I’ll have Scootaloo with me, I just don’t want to leave the city,” I said. Mom just looked at me and faked a smile.

        “If that’s… If you’re sure that’s what you want to do, and as long as you don’t venture off on your own, that’s…” Her smile started slipping, but she kept it up. “That’s completely fine.”

        “Are you sure?” I asked, frowning. No fighting, no arguing, just her trying to be happy for me. Was I that obvious back when I was pretending to be happy? You still are.

        “Oh, yes, of course,” Mom said. “Although… I’d appreciate it if we spent my last few days here doing some mother-daughter bonding. Actually, I’d appreciate it if we did quite a bit more than just ‘some.’”

        “I’d love that,” I said, trotting over and throwing my arms around her. “How long until you have to go to Ponyville?”

        “Oh, I think I still have about three days before we’ll have to depart,” she said, tilting her head. “Perhaps we can work it up to four if we leave early Monday morning, and that leaves us the whole of the weekend.”

        I grinned, ignoring the fact that I was going to be on stage in less than a week and hadn’t sung a single bar since I’d woken up. “Then I guess we have to make this the best weekend ever.”