(Laughter) The Broken Heart - IV.I - The Calm
"...and I did everything together. In fact, I don't remember us ever being apart. Until today."
IV
Laughter
The Broken Heart
'Truly, you are a strong pony.'
Princess Luna's words were appreciated. They were kind, they were sweet. But above all, they were clever.
Though with well-intentions to be sure, Luna was still a pony who thought, considered, and manipulated. Most ponies did so unintentionally, without any malicious intent behind it. That was just as true last night, as Luna tried her best to boost Starlight Glimmer's confidence.
But it was ultimately doomed, for Starlight wrote a manifesto on the art while "officializing" her philosophy for the rest of Equestria (a blessing unto the country in her eyes, because what villain ever considered such heinousness a bad thing?). Starlight, however, had long-ago cashed in her strength's credibility the moment she spout the groan-inducing utterance of, "I'm fine."
No, she wasn't. Obviously. But Starlight tried to trick herself into feeling such, and that crumbled in the face of those macabre wooden puppets she herself was the master of.
A strong pony didn't have such horrible thoughts about herself, or her friends.
Luna's comfort brought about just one, painful reminder: that that was exactly what a pony like Starlight wanted to hear. Bearing the weight of her own mistakes, like it was something to be proud of? One needed only to step back and look at the whole picture.
What a self-aggrandizing notion Luna tried peddling her. Starlight's misfortunes were her own byproduct, time and again. Fate was never the one who'd dealt her a bad hand, just as it hadn't dealt Twilight hers, whose accomplishments were, while amazing and impossible, had always been the result of her own hard work.
She'd earned her Destiny. Just like Starlight.
Awash in golden-blue hues, Starlight's room was as tranquil as the rest of Ponyville in the morning: peace was quiet, uneventful. Lacking in Starlight's impact on the world, and reverse. Only the covers' whispers conflicted with this fact, shifting against her coat with every turnover.
Starlight was face-down in her pillow when she belted out a groan: she was too awake. Falling back asleep was just impossible.
Not that Starlight particularly needed yet another bout of shuteye, but hey, when did more sleep ever hurt?
It must have been late in the morning by now. Starlight wouldn't know; she never got a clock since she was always (or used to be) an early riser. But she'd been awake in this unchanging picture for hours.
The weight of last night pinned Starlight to her bed, Twilight cries and screams and declarations turning her bones to lead. Too comfy, both mind and body argued whenever she vied to move, to make amends. It was a sound argument, so much so that she couldn't poke any holes in its logic, and crept back under the covers, tight in the chest despite herself. 'No,' that potent ache was saying, 'you're actually just afraid of confronting your screw-ups.'
I'm being selfish, Starlight thought, sitting up; it was just about the only thing she'd done herself in days, yet, it still took an alicorn princess to tease out that drive:
'Disclose your fears and dispel all doubts, lest you doom yourself to the same mistakes I've made.'
Easier said than done, Your Majesty. If only Starlight had her patented snark then, so Luna could at least explain how such a thing was possible. But the Princess of the Night didn't visit her again, leaving Starlight to a restless sleep she, all things considered, more than deserved. Would another metaphorical-slap in the face have been appreciated? Of course. But Princess Luna had more ponies to deal with, greater fears to smite, than the relatively benign nature of a "wake up abandoned" nightmare.
If Luna was trying to make another point with that dream (assuming she had such control of course), then Starlight didn't need it. Luna was loud and clear before: Starlight Glimmer was a hot mess, an apparently, so was she. In retrospect, it was obvious. Blatant, given her past. More blatantly evil than Starlight's actions, but Luna had allowed herself to get as bad as she did.
Twice, apparently. Starlight tried as hard as last night to put Luna's story to picture, but it was hard to picture serene Princess Celestia getting as emotional as her and Twilight had last night. Maybe Luna really was trying to make me feel better.
A warmth tugged inside all the same at the thought of their kinship. Then disgust moved to poison that, of course. Because when didn't it? When do I ever stop and think before judging ponies right off the bat?
Starlight flopped back into her pillow, groaning with covered eyes. Pink hooves fell away to a star-spangled midnight splashed across the ceiling. Starlight wondered if this, too, was some sort of twisted, cosmic coincidence. Could there be a deeper connection between her and the Princess of the Night? Luna was always so close to everypony, given the nature of her duties - especially with foals - but at the same time, she was too far from anypony's reach to befriend in the same vein as Trixie.
She was, after all, a princess, and Starlight was only desperate for the same understanding and comfort Luna imparted last night.
"'In desperate need of a friend,' indeed," Starlight muttered. Okay, she thought, clearly, I need someone to talk to. Though it took Luna for her to realize that, it was so obvious that Starlight should have thought of this herself. Why didn't she, before? Because I got a serious case of 'big-headedness,' coupled with the oh-so-dangerous, 'head-up-thine-own-plotitus.' Side effects may include being an insensitive jerk to your friends. Difficult to cure.
Starlight chuckled to herself, a cruel, sardonic thing reverberating in her bedroom.
A pathetic thing, in truth.
Mustering the will to salvage her relationships, Starlight leaned on one side, then flung to her other, rolling off her bed unto four hooves. Starlight crossed her room, deciding to forfeit her fight with the bathroom this morning (again) as she absentmindedly imagined her bed being made.
It took seconds for the silence to fall upon her. "Oh, right." Starlight returned to her bed and leaned in, baring her teeth like an animal.
Sighing at the made bed, the lumpiness of her job, Starlight went for the door and nosed it open. Remembering why she was too panicked to waste time closing it last night, the first pony she had to make it up to was clear.
Starlight kicked a hoof back, slamming her door shut and sending a clap racing down either end of the hall.
Breathing deep, a long, groaned sigh filled the dead silence after.
Her options were clear-cut, pathetically easy to pick. Really, she only had two to pick from (in of itself an exaggeration at best).
So I can sit around and mope the rest of my life, yesterday passed her thoughts like the most ugliest, fleeting of rashes, or bite the magic bolt, redraw the cards life had just dealt me, and hope this new hand doesn't risk everything I'd tried to rebuild. If only there was a third, but Starlight considered herself lucky she had an option at all.
“Relax,” she breathed, “relax, it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be.” Paradoxically, she felt like she wasn’t taking this seriously enough.
In reality, Starlight’s one and only option was clear: what she felt didn’t matter. Other ponies were affected by her actions, and she alone could make it up to them. She had to make things right.
'Seek friendship,' Luna had advised, as if the answer were so simple. As if Starlight could look Twilight in the eye again, ignoring what happened last night.
She’d forgive Starlight. Of course she would, she always did. Even after you held your friendship hostage to manipulate her? Maybe. Perhaps. She might never let me forget this, even if she never speaks a word of it again. I’d know she’s thinking it every time she sees me, my horn…
Starlight shook her head as an alluring, filthy notion tried to creep its way in. Nothing would change if Starlight didn’t confront her mentor, and avoiding her like yesterday was definitely not the change she wanted. Why did I even think that was a good idea?
Truly, Starlight’s own thought process was a mystery even to herself at times. ‘Seek friendship,’ she recalled, peering down the hall and past the stained-glass starburst. A door beside it much like the others lined this absurdly big corridor, shut tight.
Oh, she’d seek friendship, alright. She’d dispel all fears and doubts, too. But not to Twilight. Not right this minute, at least. There was another pony Starlight accidentally pissed off (and could do with some apology practice with, too).
Fizzlepop Berrytwist’s eyes widened a hair upon seeing her. “Starlight Glimmer,” she remarked, foreleg falling from the doorknob.
“Hey.” Starlight hardened against the beast writhing in her belly, smiling coolly. Do this for yourself. Do this for Luna. But above all, do this for Fizzle. “Um, I first wanted to say, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for ditching you last night. That wasn’t cool.”
“‘Ditch?’” A tilt of the head, like a cat. Starlight definitely felt like one, watching that impressive mohawk sway a little. “I wasn’t going to force tea down your gullet if you didn’t want it.”
“Ha! Ah, no, it had nothing to do with tea.” Starlight’s ears wilted, weighed by her feelings. “And if you’re anything like me, you assumed that it’s because I was scared away, didn’t you?” Fizzlepop started, her lips even parted. “Thought so. Then you’ll probably understand when I utter the oh-so-cliche: ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’”
The taller mare huffed, amused. “Are we a couple, now?”
Starlight stammered a moment, having never given the idea—with anypony—a second thought. “I don’t know about that,” she chuckled, “but if you’re willing to tolerate my manic anxiety and short temper, I was thinking, maybe, we… can be friends!” Tempest’s eyes gaped, bright and blue and radiating understanding, as if to say, ‘Only if you’re willing to do the same.’
“Wow,” Starlight laughed, hairs prickling as though a thunderstorm were on the horizon, “is that emotion you’re showing?”
Fizzle’s chilly countenance sagged into a grimace that’d make most ponies run for the hills. Starlight snickered at her face, and Tempest couldn’t help but burst with an evil little chuckle. “And here I thought Twilight Sparkle would be the first and only face I’d see today.” It might’ve been wishful thinking, but relief laced her words.
So far, so good. Don’t screw this up, ya loony unicorn! Starlight knew how to play someone like Tempest: little visible weakness, humor, relatability? She wasn’t just cut from the same cloth as Starlight, she was woven, stitched, and patterned in an almost identical fashion.
“Does that mean your offer still stands?” she asked.
“No. Goodbye.” The door slammed like a crack of thunder. Or shattering glass.
Oh, wait, no—that was the remains of Starlight’s heart being dusted and sprinkled across the dark depths of her gut. Turning toward the hall, Starlight realized she couldn’t blame Tempest Shadow for having little patience with nonsensical ponies like—
“Starlight, wait! I was kidding, you can come in.” Starlight whipped around, where Tempest’s electric-blue eyes met hers, sparking with mischief. It promptly fizzled out alongside her tiny grin. “Was that not a good joke?”
She’s learning. Starlight swallowed her previous hurt, wearing an easy smile. “Stick to your dayjob, Fizzle,” she joked, strolling over. Hearing the mare’s warm chuckle brought a smile to her face. “See? That’s a joke. You have to make sure ponies can’t accidentally take you seriously.”
“No, it’s not that. I mean, ‘Fizzle?’” The mare stepped aside upon being reached, unveiling a deep abyss beyond. “That’s a new one.”
“Oh.” Starlight paused before the threshold. “I didn’t think much of it, you know. If you don’t like it, I can—”
“I didn’t say that,” Fizzlepop told her, tightly, but slowly. “It’s just different. Unexpected. Hardly anypony calls me ‘Fizzlepop’ these days, yet you’ve given me some sort of a pet name after two conversations.” Starlight had no idea what to say; Fizzle adopted Tempest’s stony exterior like a mask to slip on, equal parts cold and hard. Analyzing. Starlight was just grasping for something today, really screwing this up royally. “Oh for the love of—You remind me of Hearts and Hooves Day mascot when you blush.” Fizzle clapped her around the withers and hauled Starlight inside. “In!” she grunted.
This was all happening so fast, and now Starlight was nose-to-nose with a faceless, endless black wall. “Wait,” she said, Fizzle kicking the door shut behind her with an, “I’m listening,” as she strode through pitch black like she was nocturnal, “okay, don’t wait. But I have three questions now since you didn’t want to listen.”
“If any of them are about this room,” a light of deep, soothing lavender bloomed, chasing away the shadows, “I like it dark.” The darkness fled into the walls, where it seemingly molded into a jagged, murky dome encasing the room.
It looked like a supervillain’s bedroom. “Woah.”
“A positive reaction, at least,” said Fizzle, flinging open obsidian cabinets like they were no more than molded styrofoam. “As well as your first question answered, I presume.”
“Yeah, it is!” Starlight gushed, devouring the architecture of the room. Really this brings up more questions. The urge to ask how Fizzlepop came upon this room writhed within her, but… if this castle had anything to do with it, and Tempest was anything like Starlight amidst her first week living here, such an advanced question this soon would assuredly spoil the mood.
As Fizzlepop retrieved a teapot with finesse, setting it on the countertop carved into the gemstone wall before slamming its cabinet shut, Starlight gathered the courage to ask, “Okay, so, question two: do you hate the nickname or not?”
A moment of silence, a pause halfway between the counter and what appeared to be a stove of some kind. “Call me what you want,” she continued around a roundtable with four chairs in the center of her room, “I don’t care. I don’t mind.”
Somepony’s testy. Or she could be shy, is all. After all, whose given her a nickname before besides Pinkie Pie? “Sure thing, Fizzle.”
“Hmph.” That was a pleased grunt, right? Fizzle’s back was to her, hunched over the obsidian oven, unmoving. For the sake of her sanity, Starlight assumed yes.
Gaze to the ceiling, it was clear that even Discord could stand tall and still have room to hover. Smooth, albeit lumpy crystal spilled all around, encased the room in a hard, nigh-featureless midnight.
A pang of envy shot through Starlight upon investigating the wall to her rear: a strange, lavender magic emanated from the crystals’ surface, somehow illuminating everything as it ought be, rather than a gloomy luster as it should be.
“This place is so cool.” It was definitely cozy. Starlight vied for a feel of this room’s magic, despite the impossibility of that now. “These crystals are just wild.”
“They eat up light when I want them to.” Porcelain jar lids clattered, and papers sifted. “Do you want a specific blend?” Fizzle asked.
Starlight backed slowly, still devouring every inch of this weird, awesome-looking architecture. “Trottingham Breakfast if you have it,” she said faintly. “Otherwise I’m game for anything. Sorry, did you say you can command these walls to soak up light waves?”
“They respond to my thoughts. Or wants, I don’t know. The princess couldn’t make heads or tails of it either.”
So it was made for her. Starlight had no idea how. Tempest only moved in—sorry, occupied indefinitely—yesterday, but everything about it was clearly catered to make her comfortable.
Sneaky castle, Starlight thought, wondering if it could even hear them, doing everything you can to make Tempest want to stay.
“This whole place is wild,” she confessed, images from every adventure story she’d read growing up displayed upon the wall. Across the room, Fizzlepop stood like she’d already accepted Twilight’s offer, and was practicing her Royal Guard posture.
Bowing slightly, a short, angry hiss followed by a whoof, like one blowing out a candle, shuddered in the air. Fizzle leaned aside to loop her hoof through the teapot handle, revealing a portion of the stove containing an open, multicolored flame. "Woah," Starlight cooed.
“Hmph, it's nice, right? I won this in a game of cards in Klugetown two years back.” Fizzle pat her teapot's handle, her pair of fireworks printed upon its magenta face. “It’s bewitched with a bottomless box charm, but the fool fish who’d betted it never knew.”
Of all the things in this room to have a story, a teapot Starlight didn’t even notice probably had the most interesting story here. “So, what made you want it?”
“I didn’t.” Oh. “But he lost everything. Wanted to win it all back, of course, as gamblers are wont to do. But he'd nothing else of value. He was an ass, so I humored him. Just to see him squirm some more.” The evil little smirk alone would make Starlight laugh on a good day.
She guffawed at the story.
Cold, but gambling of any kind had consequences for somepony involved, guaranteed. “‘Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.’ That’s my motto!” An itch flared upon Starlight’s horn remains, as if she didn’t already know the irony of that thought.
When has it ever been? Shut up, brain, I’m trying to befriend somepony.
“So!” Starlight rocked back upon her hooves. “Can I... have a look around? That’s question three, by the way.”
Between her and Fizzlepop, a roundtable upon a raised, stone platform—the only structure in this room made from such—held a roundtable with a tablecloth as purple as the teapot. “If you really care to,” Fizzle said, peering over her shoulder, her table.
“Yes, I do care to.” Hopefully that would dispel any insecurities about this, should her friend feel them. “After all, you can learn a great deal about somepony through their taste in bedroom decor.”
By now Fizzle turned fully, watching her with unreadable eyes as Starlight wheeled in place, drinking it all in. “I never considered that. Perhaps I should scope your room out too, sometime.”
Kites, stars, books, and a workstation that would gather dust very soon. Starlight resisted cringing at the thought and giving Fizzle any ideas as to how she felt about that. “Sure, but promise you won’t judge me.”
“How can I, when you’re likely doing the same?” Fizzle’s subtly, almost invisible smirk revealed she’d asked in good fun.
But Starlight knew all jokes stemmed from a kernel of truth. “I mean, yeah, I’m ‘judging’ you in the form of having an opinion,” she explained, “but I’d forgotten the kind of pony you were before coming in here.”
She flickered from Fizzlepop’s eyes to the Equestrian banner beside her little counterspace, and the obsidian-carved oven beside it—Luna and Celestia encircling one another, their celestial bodies contorting around one another equally, harmoniously.
“What do you mean?” Fizzle asked.
Starlight was ready to explain herself until a glint of silver caught her eye. Several, all stuck upon glossy, wooden plaques like trophies. “What do you mean, by keeping those?” she countered. “Those… weapons?” Just the word sent tingles down her spine, but to be in the same room as several, none of which looked like anything she’d ever seen before. “Do they have stories similar to the bottomless teapot of Klugetown?”
“Erm, not all of them.” Fizzle slowly, retrieved a pair of teabags from the counter and dropped them on the roundtable. “The blades’re mine, though. My property. The Storm King always let me keep ‘em for my… service. They’re all that I own.”
Well, now you own everything in here. But Starlight felt it wise not to spoil their amicability. Not yet, anyway. After all, she realized, stopping on a set of twinblades that couldn’t be more different, it’d be selfish of me if I left only talking about my problems.
As if ex-Commander Tempest Shadow wanted to hear of such things, when she had her own world of issues to overcome.
“My ‘armory’s’ recent additions.” Fizzle, nodding to the crossed twinblades, leaned against a foreleg against the counter. “After the Storm King’s defeat, I’d toured Equestria. Quickly found myself bored to tears. I’d craved excitement, and braved a public library for the sake legend-hunting. My research led me to the Mountains of the Frigid North.” Fizzlepop’s muzzle twitched to her teapot, as if her very gaze would heat it faster. A second later, her unscarred eye, soft as the bluest ocean, regarded Starlight. “It’s not a particularly exciting story.”
“Anypony whose been spelunking in ancient ruins immediately gets engagement points from me.” Starlight, upon seeing Fizzlepop turn fully, smirk cocked, grinned at her assuredly.
Fizzle flickered from Starlight to the plaque-mounted twinblades beside her oven. Identically curved, but one shone with a gentle, otherworldly glow contained within itself, casting zero gleam upon the wall. All the while, its sister-blade oozed black vapor opposingly, crossed over protectively. “The Two Sisters’ lost graduation presents, courtesy of Starswirl the Bearded,” Fizzlepop began, and Starlight turned her thoughts fully to the mare across from her.
It might not have had epic battles or titanic monsters, but no pre-teatime story made up in action, period, what it lacked in “juicy gossip,” as Rarity would call it.
The caverns had been stripped bare by archeologists forever ago, but she didn’t realize it until she’d made the long, bitter-cold hike up the mountains. Fizzlepop, believing she’d wasted her time (and the victim of life’s latest joke) threw a tantrum in the caverns. A stray bolt blew apart a hidden alcove amidst her rage, and within, the twinblades wrapped in burlap. She’d presented them to the diarchs of Equestria on the hunch that they’d belonged to them, only to have them handed back. They’d no need for such things, apparently, as Starswirl forged them with the likely intention of giving the young princesses protection when the Pillars weren’t on-hoof. But eternal damnation in Limbo beckoned them before the alicorns’ coronation came to pass. The Two Sisters pushed Fizzlepop’s treasure back into her hooves, urging their use to whatever their new owner deemed fit.
“Huh.” The teapot still hadn’t screeched its one-note tune as a lull in conversation took over, and Starlight craved more stories.
“Boring, right?” Fizzle asked simply.
“No way, that’s awesome!” Starlight propped herself upon the table. “How many ponies get to say they’ve founded magical artifacts belonging to the Princesses of Equestria, who let them actually keep said treasures? That only happens, like, never!” Since the owners of such things were typically long-gone, but hey, semantics.
The larger mare stared, surprised, before shying away once more. Starlight strode around the table, drawn to bizarre, enchanted swords like fireflies to their allure. “Can you imagine what Equestria would be like if he’d given them these swords?” she wondered.
“Not particularly.”
“Exactly. Maybe it’s a good thing they never got these.” She was close enough to make out individual rays of light lining a blade like barbs, with the “night sword,” Starlight decided, exuding its shadowy miasma all the while. “Can’t help but imagine how different history would’ve been. Equestria’d be a much different place.” Maybe a less harmonious one at that.
“It’d be safer,” Fizzle argued. “The capital of Equestria, seat of the most powerful beings on Equus? To fall in a minute, tch,” she shook her head, “it was disgraceful.”
Starlight opened her mouth to debate—to peddle her silly beliefs about Destiny and how this was all meant to be. But Fizzlepop wouldn’t care for that, because she herself didn’t either amidst the early days of her redemption. An annoying itch within her forehead, out of hoof’s reach, reminded Starlight that Destiny wasn’t as benevolent as she’d presumed prior to Flutter Valley.
No, you made this choice. The Witches, they’d said…
Starlight resigned with a knowing smile, deciding she didn’t give a hoof about what those creatures said to toy with her.
“What’s with the look?” asked Tempest
“Oh,” Starlight started, “I’m just glad we’re like that, is all. ‘Disgraceful’ as you put it.” The blunt look of disbelief thrown her way was too funny not to giggle at. “I’m serious! Listen, back in the day? I’d agree with you. Wholeheartedly. I wouldn’t have considered what it meant for my country’s soul, cheesy as that sounds.”
She saw what the future was like, first-hoof. Or at least, one of the many horrid ones Twilight and Spike had encountered.
“Now, with everything I’ve seen? I hate the idea of an Equestria that has to fight to solve its problems.” Starlight groaned internally beneath her knowing facade; of course she couldn’t avoid going there, no matter how hard she tried: the “Destiny” angle. “What if there’s a good reason why the Two Sisters never got their coronation presents?” She hesitated, said ‘To Tartarus with it,’ and dove right in. “A, I dunno, greater purpose to those circumstances?”
Fizzle just snorted in disbelief, sounding a little snarly. Starlight couldn’t blame her, and not solely because her friend wasn’t raised in the pacifistic world of Equestria. “It’s a tough pill to swallow, but it’ll go down eventually.”
“Great. Let me know when it does, and I’ll give you a bitter drink called ‘Reality.’”
Starlight rolled her eyes with a muttered, “Whatever, grump. You’ll come to the light eventually!”
They shared humored smiles, but Starlight could see it in Fizzle’s eyes: a storm of fantasies where she herself saved Equestria the “right” way, or more likely, saved from her. Sparing her people the Storm King’s wrath in the process.
Starlight followed her gaze to the blades, boring into the gentle aura of Celestia’s “sol sword.” “Maybe I’m talking out my butt. I’m sure you’re thinking that right now.” She hesitated, but no rebuttal came (to her quiet relief, because really, who could make a legitimate defense for something as vague as Destiny?). “Personally though, and my point before, was that I’m glad we couldn’t beat you through brute force.”
“You liked your chains?”
“Gosh, no! For two whole days? That really stunk. Especially since I was stuck with a friend who wouldn’t shut up, even after they muzzled her.” Oh, Trix… Starlight forced her and her awfulness as a friend out of mind.
Fizzle simply lowered her eyes from the swords, contemplating intently.
“That being said,” managed to attract a wary, solemn gaze, “we’re lucky things went down the way they did. Really! We, that is to say, you and I? We wouldn’t be here right now if they hadn’t.”
“Hmph. ‘Luckily.’ That’s the right word.” Fizzlepop’s emerging, feeble smile crumbled soundlessly as she veered away, meandering across the room towards something cloaked in a magenta sheet. “I suppose… it’s a good thing, a great thing, even, that Equestria isn’t anything like my world,” she said slowly. “I clawed my way over a lot of ‘friends’ over the years. Just for a chance at getting noticed by the Storm King. Caused a lot of people a lot of pain over...” ‘My horn,’ she was probably going to say.
A shiver came as her friend’s face twisted: shame, frustration, anguish, blended together like a smoothie. Feelings that were so familiar, Starlight felt them knotting up inside herself, making her sick. The life of Tempest Shadow, that of Mayor Starlight, were inconceivable to a lot of ponies. Not even Twilight Sparkle understood, not completely; just enough to pity the broken mares they’d become.
But to know them, to think like they do, to feel what they feel—anxiety, fear, nostalgia, loss—and how these horrible emotions shaped her two (let’s be fair, absolutely nutty) friends, she might never truly empathize.
“Fizzlepop?” The pony Starlight knew well, yet so little about, looked up with a start. “I’m not forgetting what you told me last night, about how I shouldn’t act like I know what it’s like. To be you, I mean.”
Her brows furrowed. “Starlight, I—”
“But I know you didn’t deserve that fate.” The world stood still as a crypt, nothing moving to oppose Starlight. “No pony does. No sane person actually wants to do the things we’ve done, but—”
“But we’re not sane,” Fizzle assumed.
She didn’t pull her punches either, even though Starlight’s chest didn’t give under the blow. Maybe on a subconscious level, she’d long-since accepted this. “How can we be? Our downfall began when we were girls. Girls, for Celestia’s sake! How’s that remotely fair?”
Fizzlepop whirled, seemingly in anger as she said, “It’s not,” Propped herself on the counter, retrieving what must have been teacups from a smokey-glassed cabinet above, she’d hidden her emotions from view. “But we were given our choices, and we made them. Now, me must lie with them. And never look back.”
Accepted that faster than I did, eh, Fizzlepop? Twilight was going to have an easier time reforming her than Starlight, that’s a certainty. “True, very true, except for a little something-something you got mistaken.” A pair teacups thumped upon the tablecloth, one after the other, crafted with plates beneath them already (much to Starlight’s relief). Fizzle still hadn’t countered, or snapped, or even reacted. “You wanna know what it is?” she wondered.
“You’re going to tell me regardless.”
“Not if you don’t want to hear it,” Starlight sang.
Fizzle growled, much to her amusement. “Just tell me,” she pleaded.
“We’re always looking back, even as we’re moving forward.” Starlight stepped closer, smiling up at her. “But I’m tellin’ ya, it gets a heckuva lot easier the further you get. Yes, it’s our fault for ending up the way we did. Yes, it’s because fate dealt us a crummy hand, and yeah, it sucks that we alone are the ones who make our choices. Not our parents, not our friends, and not the princesses nor Destiny or whatever. Us. Only we can make ourselves right!”
“Then how do you do it, Starlight? How does it get easier, when?” Fizzle’s voice trembled, no longer guarded. Starlight grasped for words, still comprehending the emotion in this mare’s voice, how she’s exposing herself fully to, of all ponies, her. “Starlight? Please, I-I didn’t mean, I mean, if I scared you—”
Stop jumping to conclusions, you’re almost as bad as me! “Time.” Starlight swallowed the lump in her throat. Fizzle eased up a tad, ever so intense. “Time is the cure. It’s slow and painful and you’re going to fall here and there, but… with time, you put more distance between yourself and your past. So that when you look back at where you started, you’ll see how far you’ve come.”
Unless you regress back to square one, like me. Starlight’s horn itched terribly, but she wasn’t about to make this centered around her. This was for Fizzle, her new friend, a pony who needed far more help than she.
“But…” Fizzle’s eyes turned upward, “what I’ve done, none of it can be taken back.”
“No, it can’t. You’re absolutely right.” Starlight closed the distance between them further, hesitating as she lifted her hoof. “So make sure it never happens again.” Fizzlepop’s foreleg was warm, hard. Eponymous of the mare it belonged to.
The teapot screamed and was silenced in a deft movement so fast, that it was set upon the table with Fizzle’s foreleg still hooked around the handle and Starlight’s just straightening beneath her.
“I’m still listening,” uttered the ex-commander, boring holes into her cutie mark painted upon its side.
Starlight was done, however. That was her great speech. “When,” she searched for words, because Tempest wanted, needed to hear more, and Starlight was her friend, “when I lost my horn…”
“You'd went made mistakes, didn’t you?”
Starlight masked herself with a lighthearted smile. “I mean, you heard Twilight and I last night. Did that sound like a normal evening in Friendship Castle to you?”
“I can’t legitimately answer that question.” Before Starlight could groan and roll her eyes, Fizzle, smirking said, “But, no, I don’t suppose it was.”
Starlight watched her angle the teapot with both hooves around the handle. “After losing my horn, I almost made some really big mistakes. I mean, I had,” Maud’s cold rage came to mind, Fluttershy’s disgust, Twilight’s many grief-striken faces, “you’re right, I had. But I’d have stumbled down something much darker—something permanent, maybe—if I didn’t have friends to pull me back. Like you.” And Luna… I’m sorry for doubting you. Whether Fizzlepop’s line of conversation was directed by the Princess of the Night’s visit didn’t occur to Starlight until now. It could very well have been.
“Tell me,” steaming water dripped from the teapot’s spout as Fizzle moved it to the next cup, “did Princess Luna have anything to do with this sudden bout of courage?”
Speak of the night-devil. The ex-commander never missed a detail. “I dunno,” Starlight chirped, “are ya gonna rage and reject our help if I say ‘yes?’ Is your pride and fear gonna twist together until you snap and push us away, then regret it deeply later?”
The teapot thumped down, its spout dripping, emanating a thin wisp of steam. “You know what you’re talking about,” said Fizzlepop.
At least she wasnt acting on Starlight’s fears. Probably because I called them out so accurately. “It’s because I’ve been there before, and so has Luna! Ponies like us tend to get caught up in our own heads too easily for it to be considered normal. Or sane.”
Fizzle set the teapot in the center, huffing with a weary smile. “Nor do you pull your punches,” she said, taking a seat.
Starlight stepped up the little round platform. “It’s one of my specialties.”
Their eyes met. “I like it.” And they smiled.
Fizzle’s didn’t leave her face as she looked down between two teabags, sliding one closer to Starlight. “Use your teeth,” she advised.
“I know how to live like an earth pony.” Starlight gulped, undoubtedly caught by her friend’s perceptive eye, and leaned down, teeth bared.
“No, no, wrong.”
Her cheeks flushed “How am I doing it wrong?!”
“Just calm down and watch me.” Fizzle swooped the string up in her teeth, the dropped the teabag in her cup with a tiny plop. “See?” She didn’t bob the little bag, but gently pulled it around the teacup, letting the string pull and slack in a rhythm that turned the steaming water bronze.
Starlight tried her best not to be annoyed, but she couldn’t help how she sounded at times as she said, “It’s gonna take a while for me to get that good.”
“Not as long as you might fear.” Fizzle got close and blew, sending ghostly wisps Starlight’s way. “It took forever for me to realize that I’m not a unicorn anymore. The sooner you accept that—”
“But I am—!” The pointed look from Fizzlepop choked Starlight. Sagging in her seat, she finished, “...not a unicorn. Anymore.”
Fizzle gripped her drink by the plate, clutching it in both hooves. “Drink the bitter draught, Glimmer.” She put it to her lips, sipping short and soundlessly. “It’ll get easier from there,” she sighed.
Pride swelled a little, enough to get her smiling. “Dirty trick, using my wisdom against me.” Steam wafted warmly against her chin; Starlight decided to let it cool for now (and avoid embarrassing herself by making an assured mess for as long as inconspicuously possible). “Alright, I’ll bite: how’m I supposed to do this, Mistress Fizzlepop?”
“Ha. ‘Mistress.’ I like the sound of that.” Her grin was so lewd it had to have been a dirty joke, but Starlight’s gaze fell upon her cup of hot water, shame and embarrassment twisting in her gut, burning in her face. Fizzlepop wasn’t even helping, was she? This was so easy she was able to figure it out as a markless foal! What grown mare couldn’t use her hooves and teeth, anyhow? “Starlight, breathe—”
“I’ve spent almost my whole life relying on my magic, taking it for granted.” Starlight took a deep, chest-filling breath. “How’m I supposed to enjoy tea with you if I can’t even—” A teabag hit her in the snout, and dropped precisely in her tea.
“You can ask, first of all,” said Fizzlepop, hoof lowering beside the other, before her cup. “Second, this,” she circled the area before her, “this is your main obstruction. The waterworks, the ‘woe-is-me’ horse manure.”
“I’m not crying!” Starlight snapped. Yet, mocked the back of her brain. “And I’m not saying, ‘woe-is-me’ nonsense, because I’ve already accepted that I lost my horn! I’m not angsting about it or anything.”
Somewhat. Not in the way Fizzlepop implied, at least.
“Perhaps not,” she took the cup in her hooves, lifted it to her muzzle, “but you’re so unhappy with your lot in life. That much is clear. And because of that, you haven’t truly moved on.” She took a deeper sip than before. “Huh, this brew is actually pretty tasty. Good choice, Glimmer.”
The implications made Starlight snicker into her foreleg. “You haven’t actually tasted it until now?”
The half-lidded glare said plenty. “Ah-hah. Ah-hah. Don’t get smart with me, I’m trying to help.” Taking another quaf, her lips smacked without a sound. “How’s your’s?”
“I…” Starlight opened her mouth, recalling.
“You’re not afraid of dropping your cup and making a mess in front of big, bad, Cowmmanda Fizzew-pawp, are you?” she purred.
“Okay, fine! You got me.”
“HA!” Fizzle barked.
“I’m afraid of screwing up and making a huge plot-head of myself over something earth ponies do every day. Is that really so irrational?” Starlight truly didn’t know, and the tremble in her final word must have hit something within her friend.
For Fizzlepop straightened, her face steeled and regarding Starlight with dead-seriousness. “Absolutely not. You truly think I’m judging you poorly? When I myself was, at one time, a dumb, angry foal trying desperately to use her power with a broken horn?” She shook her head, smiling easily. “Believe me, Glimmer, you’re miles ahead of me regarding all this.”
No wonder her friends abandoned her. It was horrible, wretched, really, to assume such a thing. But if she was worse than Starlight Glimmer, knowing what happened last night with Twilight, the picture was becoming a lot clearer.
“Show me how you hold a teacup.” Fizzle was leaning back in her chair, an observer trained to catch every minute detail. “I’ll guide you from there.”
There was no getting out of this… not that there was any good in doing so. “Alright.” Starlight exhaled, lifting her hooves from her sides. “Here I go.”
“Do it.”
She didn’t look away from the cup. “Shush, don’t rush.”
“Tch.”
Thank Celestia for Pinkie and her weird sayings. Starlight’s hooves attacked from either side; with narrow overlap in hoof-on-cup contact, it clinked twice. “Gotcha!"
“I’m so, so proud of you, Glimmy,” droned Fizzlepop. “Now do Future Glim a favor and stop seeing everything before you as a challenge. Your hooves can grip it just fine,” she demonstrated with ease, peeking around the cup, “see? Just trust yourself, your instincts. We ponies have a knack for that sort of thing."
"R-right." It sounded so obvious. Was it really so elementary? Had she been obsessing over nothing again?
"The world itself isn’t your enemy, something to be conquered. You think that’s how earth ponies approach the day-to-day?”
“Earth ponies have an innate magic within them that allows a special connection to the inherent magic of the material plane.”
“Ah.” ‘So you’ve known this,’ that grunt implied. “In truth, and call me prejudiced if you wish, but this is what I believe: earth pony’s magic, at far as that’s concerned, isn’t very special. It’s just a convoluted way of making sense of things: the trees, the grass. This room we’re in, the teacup before us, and this hot beverage, ready to be enjoyed? When you strip away the magic," Starlight tried ignoring the clenching of her chest, "it just becomes stuff. Stop looking for the magic, and just see what’s in front of you. Trust your eyes, not your sixth sense.”
Starlight, hearing nothing more, loosed a breath.
“Relax,” Fizzle's smooth voice advised, “I know it’s a lot to take in, but if you're having trouble comprehending this, then just… see the world as an earth pony would, I guess! Objective and dependable. No two ways about it.”
“You make it sound so easy. What if I don’t hold it tight enough and it falls?” She saw a wavy, jagged stump within the bronze depths of her Trottingham Breakfast. “If I mess up, it’s because of something I could have prevented.” But didn’t, because I failed.
“That’s the unicorn’s way of looking at the world, Glimmer. You're not a unicorn anymore, understand me?” No, because the weight of a bugbear pressing down on her was all she could understand. “It’s painful,” Fizzle’s words shocked the silence around them, “but it’s the reality. You’re an earth pony now, and as such you know the world better than any of the other races. Pretend that you do, even though you really don’t. You’re also a great manure-slinger from what I heard; shouldn't have trouble tricking yourself into thinking this way.”
'Manure-slinger?' Any other day and Starlight would laugh. Definitely not the words Twilight would have used. When was the last time she heard such an ugly word aloud (that wasn’t from her own mouth)?
“I understand what you’re trying to tell me. Completely,” she said. But what if she messed up anyway? What if she dropped the cup and broke it? Would that make Fizzlepop mad? Enough to kick her out? Probably, because Starlight would definitely get a little peeved if the roles were reveresed! Totally!
This kind of scenario exemplified why she didn’t want friends helping her: give her a little time, and Starlight would eventually find a way to totally mess up everything. She never learned from her mistakes, and with her horn gone, how will she ever have some semblance of a normal, happy life?!
“Starlight.”
Was it really so surprising that Twilight was mad at her, now that she needed all this help? Starlight never learned. Ever! Two years after the fact, and she STILL didn’t pause for a second, a mere moment, to consider how her friends would feel before acting. How they would regard Starlight's quality as a pony because of her actions, questioning every facet of her mindset when making this dumb, rushed, idiot decision.
“S-Starlight…”
She was gung-ho about sacrificing herself, for Equestria’s sake. Literally! And just how happy would Twilight’ve been after realizing that Starlight was dead in some swamp so she'd live?!
It’d break her heart, even… even more than it was now… Starlight gasped. Her eyes flooded to the twisting in her chest. Just like with Maud. All of them, Trixie too, they would all hate me…
How in Equestria did she not realize it sooner? Of course Maud hated her for this. Starlight treated this as if she didn’t care for anypony’s feelings!
She was a screw-up. “Starlight.” No wonder they were all mad at her. She had to make it up to them, even if it was impossible. She had to try—
“You’re growing cobwebs, little pony.”
Starlight blinked. “Mhm? Oh! Sorry! Just, ah, just overthinking things! As per usual… What was it you were saying? Sorry?”
Fizzlepop stared. “I won’t pry because I respect your privacy, and trust that you’ll come to me with whatever you feel comfortable about sharing. Okay?”
“Uh, o-okay? Why’re… Why’s this coming up?”
“So you don’t feel like I don’t give a damn about my friend.” Starlight gulped, blinking away a welling pressure creeping up her eyes. Smiling, Fizzle said, “Now, earth pony, sip your tea before I funnel it down your snippy little mouth.”
“Okay, okay! Fine!” Starlight laughed, batting her away. “Okay,” she mumbled once more, “earth pony-style.”
“Know the dimensions of the object before you. Feel for it, balance it. Make it work for you. That’s all it is.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Earth pony-style, earth pony-style... If Applejack were in her shoes, she wouldn’t second guess nor obsess over a potential mistake, neither. She wouldn’t get distracted with what ifs, she’d just do it. Then try again when she failed until she got it right.
An earth pony would use their eyes, their touch. They’d never think twice about it.
“Okay.” Starlight returned to her cup, grabbing it stiffly, albeit far less golem-like than before. “I’m fine. I can do this.” The teacup, a solid weight in her hooves, hardly needed any force to remain stable in her hold. It just was. Starlight's fears melted away the closer her steaming, quaking beverage neared her lips. It’s only motion. I just need to keep steady. Focus on the movement and not the cup. Starlight Glimmer wasn't afraid, she was awesome. “I got this.”
“Prove it, then.” Fizzlepop Berrytwist’s blue eyes, soft, watched without any discernible emotion as Starlight leaned to her drink.
Don’t overthink this, don’t overthink, she brought it to her puckering lips, I got this, I got this, I got this, I GOT—”YEOW!” Starlight wrenched away. “It’h hoth!” she cried.
“No kidding!” Fizzlepop howled, bringing her hoof down upon the table. “I’m sorry, but, come on, Glimmer! Prac-practical common sense, don’t forget about it!”
“Yeah, yeah, Ms. ‘Your tea is getting cold,’” Starlight rasped.
“I don’t sound like that.”
“Mhm.” Her tongue tingled, electrocuted with a burn halfway across it that quickly began to dull. “But that was good, wasn’t it?” Starlight enunciated around her swelling extremity.
“As good as a pony telling herself to think about anything but her weaknesses? Yes. A decent first attempt.” A pause, and Fizzlepop smiled into her own retrieved beverage. “Actually, it was a great one. I’m only jealous at how fast you picked it up.” Starlight almost felt proud enough of herself to beam until Fizzle added, “I shouldn’t be surprised, though.” She sipped her tea. “A certain princess told me you were a fast learner.”
...Of course, Twilight would say that, obviously before their big fight. But that didn’t matter right now, this very moment. Right now, Starlight was drinking tea with her new friend. And Fizzlepop was only trying to help, besides.
It's just so much... Starlight bowed, exhaling all the air from her lungs, their tightness. “Thanks, Fizzle. I appreciate your help. But, it’s not that it’ll take time to get used to,” she explained, lifting her gaze across the table. “I… I just miss it. And I hate that. But I just... can't help it.”
The sound of liquid pouring, filling something, drifted from across the table. “Me too,” said Fizzlepop. The teapot set aside with a solid clunk. “But it gets easier.”
“I know that,” snorted Starlight, lifting her teacup with ease. I couldn't just learn this myself, sheesh. But what are friends for, if not highlighting one another's shortcomings to make them better?
“Writing will still be a challenge,” warned Fizzlepop. “Other things, too. But you’ll take it one step at a time.”
Starlight smiled, agreeing, before throwing her head and teacup back. The hot liquid hit her tongue, punching her senses like a fog dispelling from her mind. A delicious bitterness rushed to the back of her throat, snapping her senses and the world around her into clarity.
Woah. Starlight gulped another mouthful. The tea was actually quite lukewarm, now that she was used to it. When was the last time she actually tasted something? There was the toast yesterday morning, and…
‘You should be starving, Starlight…’ Except she wasn’t, because she’d forced three (stolen) apples down her throat to ensure she keel over from hunger, even though she really, really didn't want to eat.
“This is so amazing,” Starlight moaned, warmth blossoming inside of her. Its tendrils unfurled from her belly, creeping within. Comfort blanketed her in a way she could only describe as, “Like a Pinkie-hug on the inside.”
Fizzlepop, this pony who’d helped her now enjoy this tea, huffed gently. Like it was nothing. Her smile, a thing of tranquility, peeked around her teacup as she quaffed once more.
“Hey, Fizzlepop?” The mare snapped to attention, mane swaying gently. “Let’s both get better together. Okay?”
The older mare’s mouth suddenly opened… and hung there. “I won’t be—I mean,” her mouth struggled to… close? Make words? Anything? A sneaky feeling of tension snapped free as Fizzlepop eased into a smile.
“Of course," she said. "Yes. Of course is what I mean, Starlight.”
Next Time: You Build Me Up... - Starlight seeks Twilight and makes amends with her best friend. Let's hope Starlight doesn't fall back into old habits again.
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"llness befalls Prince Twilight Sparkle."
So shes a prince and a princess? Is this some sort of bizare dog whistle that shes both genders or a spellign mistake?
So to make sure I understand this story correctly Twilight gets sick starlight does a risky plan to fix it and losses her horn doing. Yet why do i keep getting the idea there is some sort of romance involved?
9169289
Make a wild guess.
9169311
I don't know. You don't see a romance tag, do you?
9169311
She gave up her magic because she cares for Twilight more. She was even willing to give up her life, if it made Twilight better. And apparently some are not happy that Starlight risked her own life like this. (Maud and Trixie)
Starlight's been in denile, saying she's not bothered by the loss of her magic, but she's clearly miserable.
Twilight, I think, was going to go after the witches to get Starlight's horn back, but Starlight threatened to end their friendship if she did because she didn't want anything to happen to Twilight , considering what the witches are capable of.
To bad it isn't a ship between the two though. I like the idea that Starlight cares for Twilight so much that she would give up what she loves to save her because she loves her more.
9169349
This guy gets it.
9169364
I am kinda scared that The broken bond the title refers to is likely the one between Starlight and Twilight. I love the relationship the two have in the show. There's that something between them that Twilight doesn't have with her other best friends. It's like they are family even without being related by blood.
Their relationship is the very definition of the saying 'The best way to destroy an enemy is to make them your friend.' Abraham Lincoln.
And Twilight took it a step further. She made Starlight family.
9169394
Exactly. And that's why this tale is going to be a painful one.
9169408
Is it OK to hope that even if it's a painful tale, that it will end on a happy note?
9169423
No spoilers, but, in a way. File this away for when you see "The End" at this story's conclusion.
9169319
I assumed as much, I was just blown away that the error would stick around for as long as it did, it seems like this story has been out for awhile. Then again im not one to talk lol.
9169439
I'd changed the description recently. It's my bad bro, thanks for pointing it out immediately
9169319
too be fair there is a tag limit and i have had romance in a story with out the tag being involved it could also been with the idea of the ship already happened so romance would not have been involved witch worked with the drama tap
9169394
No it bloody well isn't.
9169531
Yes, she bloody well is. She's family and there's nothing you can do about it.
And it is the definition of Abraham Lincolns saying. Read up on history, why don't you. Starlight was an enemy and Twilight made her her friend, and then family.
It is the best way to destroy an enemy. And Abraham bloody Lincoln knows better than you. Greatest president the US ever had .
9169581
Just... don't, man. Just stop now before you get sucked into a debate with Zimmer here.
9169581
Lincoln was also the man who said this:
Lincoln knew well how to put down an enemy. Not by trite moralizing, but by iron and blood.
9169349
I don't see why you have to be romantically in love with someone to love them so much you'd give your life for them. That says more about their bond than if they were just romantically involved, for me it adds more weight. She had no true reason to go that far if not for just caring about her teacher, her friend, the one who showed her mercy when she was just being selfish and ignorantly destructive regardless who got hurt in the way of her getting revenge.
To be shown a new way, a better way, and eventually even reconnect with that one you used to love as a foal, Twilight's helped her a lot. I see this as Starlight feeling she finally has a way to repay that kindness back, in a way she feels would show how much Twilight means to her.
I feel the romantic stuff would only cheapen the act. It blinds you. Makes you act irrationally. But here, it is a good friend out trying to help her friend through trying times. Going that extra mile, that while arguably her other friends could have possibly given up just as well if they were given a choice to save Twilight's life, it's still Starlight who had the drive to seek a means and give up something precious to her for a friend.
But yeah, who doesn't want to see the two smooch it up. :P
Thankfully there are plenty of other stories with a romance tag. This though just feels right the way it is though. Imo, I wouldn't be bothered if it ended in a ship either way.
9169724
Thank you for this comment. Though you and Titan and many others get what I'm trying to do here, it still makes me happy to see someone deeply understand why I didn't want to make this a romance.
Yes it could blossom into romantic love, potentially, but that isn't the point. It's what Twilight means to Starlight and vice versa that drives the conflict and wedge between these two.
Well, she would be alive to be unhappy.
9171721
Not the point
Real good conversation with Starlight and Fizzlepop. Definitely interesting to read I did like seeing the conversation about how Starlight and Fizzlepop’s opinion on how Equestria deals with threats. Kind of remind me of the comics where Fizzle has similiar thoughts on it.
9171730
The point is that Starlight's better start wrapping all the furniture in Ponyville with foam this instant now that Twilight's not dead enough to not stub her
toehoof on her own? Jeez, are there any thing not to be taken care of by poor mare? Ok, Twilight may kinda be forgiven since she's feeling directly responsible for what happened, but the rest of them...9171877
Keep in mind that none of the characters in this story are acting as a collective. They're all individuals with their own feelings and opinions on the matter. Also that most of this is told from Starlight's unreliable perspective - do you honestly think Twilight is mad at her for saving her life? Or Maud - the only one who is even remotely "angry" with her?
9172208
They're probably not. But they ought to be.
9183878
They, they shouldn't be. Because that's unlike them, no matter what twisted view you think every person should have.
For as little as we've seen or heard of Tempest since the movie, your characterization of her is excellent. I can definitely see her like this. What I love about these scenes most is your detailing of the inner monologue of the subconscious that happens whenever we are with other individuals. It's like you're writing in stream of consciousness but with pinpoint accuracy; most intriguing.
Starlight Berrytwist my OTP
Well, I was going to say that I was happy to see an uplifting chapter, and then I read the comments and now I’m concerned.