V.IX - It's that Simple
Starlight’s heart must have been bruised black by this point. It slammed particularly hard against her rib cage, the pain a plea to cease dwelling about what just transpired. It was pointless. What's done is done.
But Trixie’s betrayal surfaced—She… she only cared about topping Twilight, Starlight's brain tried so feebly to argue—-followed by Maud’s silent tears, coupled with the violent, effortless tearing of the suit. I only made a simple request: for her to stop worrying about me.
She got what she wanted. Who was she to complain?
Starlight, as always, had doled this upon herself.
And I made Trixie cry for it.
“Remember that time the Map sent us back home, and we thought it was to get our parents to stop fighting?” Sunburst lead the way, wearing a smile; something about Dad being here—the one pony Starlight knew she couldn’t avoid forever if she tried. “Starlight?”
“Yeah,” her mouth replied. I made Maud cry. I… I made Maud cry! Starlight’s throat closed, her eyes welled. She blinked hard as she walked, gulped with twice her might, as much as she could muster on an empty belly.
An accustomed feeling, not hard to manage after eating became as much a choir as showering, and her stomach would ache and almost reject the food.
“Suicidal,” Pharynx labeled this behavior a month ago. Starlight couldn’t help it. She could never, ever help it, no matter how hard she tried.
Trixie, I… I’m so sorry. My mind blanked and I know, I KNOW, you weren’t doing this because of Twilight but I just felt… betrayed. Like a foal.
A foal who rejected reality. Who denied it and fought it with demented conviction, as Starlight had in her revenge against Twilight.
“Starlight, di-did you hear me?”
She exhaled, “No. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said, like an instinct. Or maybe not. “I know that doesn’t mean much right now, but I mean it.”
They rounded a corner. “Thanks.”
Sunburst sighed out his nose. Starlight, chest lurching, avoided his likely-exasperated face. She would tell him to abandon her along with the effort, but it would, in all likelihood, end with more screaming and arguing.
“I just don’t have it in me.”
“Huh?”
Starlight almost froze, realizing she'd spoken aloud, but she didn’t even have the strength for that. Or lying. Or looking him in the eye as he turned. “Anything, anymore.” My friends were only trying to help and I kicked sand in their eyes.
“Hey.” Starlight ignored his concern, only to walk into a white-splashed hoof. “Your friends are still your friends,” she heard.
Starlight had to laugh, even if it would and did come out a feeble, hollow thing. Before he could follow-up with an, “I’m serious,” Starlight told him, “You don’t know Maud and Trixie like I do.”
His hoof left her. Pitifully, she wanted the contact back. Starlight failed to remember the last time a pony touched her. It felt like years.
But Maud tried to. Sunburst reminded her, “Those girls still love you, Starlight. I know that feeling well-enough to know it doesn’t just go away.”
“How?” she asked the carpet.
“Because I was more than happy to resume being friends with you, of course. I looked past your crimes. You were still you beneath them all, just like you are now.”
He made it sound so simple. But ponies were far more complicated than that. “I hurt…” The emptiness ached, to even think about their names right now… “They won’t forget how I’ve hurt them.”
“But we keep telling you, Starlight, that at the end of the day, these things just don’t matter. Didn’t you learn that from Twilight—?”
“Cease your incessant ramblings, Sunburst,” said a commanding voice taking up the rear. Fizzle’s gentle, albeit tired, tone surfaced, “She doesn’t need nor want this right now.”
“I’m just trying to keep her mind off things,” he mumbled, poor guy.
The hollowness within panged for the friend who was still trying after that embarrassment downstairs. “I appreciate it, Sunburst. You’re a big help,” she lied.
Their walk resumed in painful silence.
As they rounded into the corridor he and Daddy were staying in, she caught a glimpse of Sunburst’s miserable gaze with a matching smile. “You and I both know I’m not. I’m sorry I can’t… I couldn’t… be more for you, Starlight. I-I want to, but—”
“It’s fine,” Starlight mumbled sharply. “Really. It’s great, even. Your efforts are wonderful, it’s just… I’m just—”
“Stop.” A halt came as softly as his voice. “Stop that. Please, Starlight.”
It was so unlike him, typically loud and wordy, that Starlight forced herself to see what she’d done to her foalhood friend: Sunburst’s glasses, reflecting the prismatic crystals draped all around, concealed whatever emotions emanated from within. “However you were about to finish that, just don’t. Please. I-i-it hurts to hear you talk like this. To know you think of yourself that way.” Penitence hitched his voice.
“Sunburst…” What to say, anything for that matter… Starlight’s mind was white screen, her chest a bottomless pit.
“I’ll give you two a moment.” Starlight turned, where Fizzlepop gave a nod before marching round on soundless hoofsteps. Off to find Twilight, to report what happened. Starlight couldn’t bear to imagine more than that.
Sunburst continued as she watched Fizzle leave. “I’ve been ignorant before. And I see clearly now, just how much that hurt you.”
She regarded him, shocked. “Sunburst,” Starlight gasped, “I avoided you at the Gourd Fest. Nopony knew what I was up to!”
“I, uh, was referring to the time I’d met your friends, and failed to notice not only that I was ignoring you but I was just rubbing it in without any care.” He lowered his head.
Now Starlight was making him feel bad. “It wasn’t you, though! It was me!” she cried, leaning, and tilting her head to catch his glistening gaze. “It was me, Sunburst. I was the one being miserable instead of feeling happy for you, to have made some new friends... And besides, that’s not even what made me…”
She couldn’t finish, her shame closing her throat.
“Yes, Starlight? I’m listening.” He touched her cheek, lifting it as he himself did. Sunburst’s face was too blurry to know for sure if he was genuinely tearing up.
“I…” His hoof reassured her, harder. “I,” Starlight squeaked, “I just, I was angry and sad because… because you seemed to have a stronger bond with them after just a single meeting. Our interests, you know? Or lack thereof in my case…”
“Oh, Starlight.” He laughed wetly. His hoof never left her, and she leaned into it, as if to trap the feeling and imprint it for when he inevitably left her. “For a pony so smart, you have a bad habit of missing the obvious.”
She sniffled. “Gee. Thanks.”
“I’m sorry,” he chuckled.
Sighing, Starlight replied, “You’re not wrong, though.” He almost never was.
“Regardless,” he continued, still smiling somehow, “after we turned back to adults, I… I wasn’t thinking about what you did. I wanted to know why—not in the sense of your reasoning for using the age spell, but why you felt the need to do that with me. So, I did what I always did, and researched. I spoke with Maud and Trixie.”
“I doubt they listed the myriad of common interests we shared on a daily basis.”
“Ah, no, they didn’t.” She lurched forth as Sunburst’s hoof left her, only for it to return immediately after scrubbing his eyes. He still smiled. “What they told me, well, I couldn’t help but feel a little envious.”
Starlight’s heart stilled: what made a pony, one so content in spending his time with books, be jealous of her meager friendships?
Sunburst answered, “I’ve never forgotten what they said. Trixie, though she didn’t say this directly, of course, but you and her shared common ground in growing from a dark past, and all the baggage that came with it included. It was clear to me you were one of the few ponies, perhaps the only pony, Trixie felt comfortable enough to be... more of herself around. And Maud? Well, aside from having a similar sense of humor, she said she enjoyed your presence. For somepony as introverted as she, you can imagine how much she treasures the time spent with you, regardless of how many words are spoken. She's comfortable being herself around you. I doubt you ever judged her, or sent a strange look her way.”
"Of course I haven't. Who am I to judge?" Starlight's smile made itself known only as it faded. “I’ve been horrible to them both.” Her voice trembled. “Maud and Trixie, they’ve bent over backwards trying to be the friends I need. But what they gave wasn’t enough for some reason. It’s like I needed something more.”
“You needed it spelled out for you.”
No. I needed to meet them halfway, but I was always too afraid to ask for more. And yet, they wouldn’t have cared. Not even a little. “I don’t know what to say. To them or you.” Or Twilight… goodness, what could she say?
“You don’t have to say anything,” said Sunburst. “I saw the way your eyes lit up just now. Just… please stop blaming yourself as if we’ve been completely blameless. Nopony’s perfect, especially when it comes to talking.”
Starlight’s heart stopped once again. Sunburst had no reason, no need, to do all of this for her. To come from the Crystal Empire and leave Flurry Heart to her parents. “Thank you,” she breathed, diving into him, and locking him in a hug. “Sunburst. I'm so thankful for you, you know that?”
His cloak rippled as his forelegs ensnared her. “Don’t mention it. I know you do. I mean it.” Their throats bobbed together, beside one another.
“Right,” Starlight gasped. “And I know you care. And that you are, and always will be, my best friend.” More words bubbled forth, restrained, even though Sunburst just painted out the obvious. ‘Nopony’s perfect. Especially when it comes to talking.’ “I’m sorry I haven’t been the most attentive or open friend.”
“And so am I.”
They remained embracing one another for however long, until a chipper voice announced beside them, “It seems you’re taking my job here, Sunburst!”
Starlight shrieked, falling back, only to be caught in a twin-tone aura familiar and warm, despite her inability to sense their unique imprints—amber and gold.
“Whup!” chuckled Dad. “Careful there, Hon-Bun!” He smiled like nothing was wrong, not offended or disappointed by his mess of a daughter.
Upon setting her down, he remarked, “Sunburst, your dad-speeches are on point, son! Tell me, have you gotten a lot of practice with Princess Flurry Heart?”
“Uh, n-no, sir!” Sunburst straightened, head held high. “The deepest conversation we’ve shared is who gets to play the firefighter.”
“An important dilemma for the little tyke, I don’t doubt.” In the doorway to his personal guest bedroom, wearing an aquaberry cable-knit, Daddy smiled still despite meeting Starlight’s eyes. Only when she dropped them did he frown. “You got nothing to be afraid of, little ‘Light.”
He saw right through her. Deny it she would, but there wasn’t a pony who understood Starlight better than Daddy, herself included. And she actually thought she could ignore this fact, and him, after everything that happened. I have so… so much to make up for.
“Dad, I—” Her voice broke. Starlight pressed a hoof to her lips, but a sob broke through anyway. She was a foal. Always had been. “I’m so sorry!”
He didn’t falter in his relaxed facade as he lowered to his haunches, forelegs wide.
“Daddy, I’m—!” He grunted as she practically tackled him. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry about everything!” She didn’t even wrong him as badly as her friends. Or perhaps she did. The worst part was not knowing for sure, her own father. Her friends were one thing but her own father.
“You’re okay, sweetie,” he murmured, squeezing tight. “I got you.” And all the apprehension came wailing out. “I got you,” he whispered through the screaming in her head. “You’re okay, sweetie. You’re fine. I got you.”
Dad just sat back, propped upon his forelegs.
Starlight held her breath as his glass of water swirled before him, before Dad quaffed it all at once. “That’s quite a tale, Sugar Plum,” he sighed, looking into the cup. “I wanna make it clear right now that I’m not surprised about any of this. And I don’t mean that in a bad way, nor a good way, mind you.”
‘You’ve always been obvious,’ he was saying. That stung. It shouldn’t, but it did. “Here comes the part where you say, ‘I am disappointed, though.’” Starlight braced herself.
The glass clinked against his foldable dinner tray, upside-down upon a plate once full of food, save for a roll Starlight still didn’t want to eat. “That’s how the cliche goes, I guess,” chuckled Dad. “But to tell you the truth, I’m not. Of course I’m concerned, but are your choices really something I have the right to be upset about?” Dad shrugged. “Whether that makes me a bad parent or not is out of my hooves, I’m afraid—you’re a grown mare, Starlight, and you’ve clearly accepted the gravity of your actions without little old me sitting you in timeout.”
“O-oh.” This wasn’t at all what she expected—as usual. “Uh, say, Dad! Am I a bad pony for assuming you were gonna, I dunno, hate me?”
Maybe it was the absurdity of the notion, maybe it was her lighthearted approach to something quite messed-up, but Dad lost his smile as his ever-sleepy eyes widened.
Starlight’s thoughts scrambled to recover. “I-I-I mean, what I’m trying to say is… you’re not mad? At me? F-for, uh, for avoiding you?” The fact that he wasn’t surprised by most of this… It wasn’t good nor bad, apparently. “Are you ashamed to have such a mess-up of a daughter?”
“Absolutely not,” he replied on the spot. “Forgive me for not asking what made you think that—”
“Oh, trust me, I’ve been asking myself that question for a while now.”
“And I was about to say, I’m not curious because, well, this is who you are, Punky Wumpkins. Not in the sense that you make mistakes—”
“Ah, so a liar and a coward, then.”
Dad smiled wryly. “No,” he drawled. “You’re Starlight Glimmer, and you’re a silly pony who doesn’t want to be hurt the way you were after Sunburst left.”
Starlight’s gut emptied. “You make it sound so simple.” She chuckled feebly.
Dad hunched over, hooves between his hind legs. “I’ve never been surprised, Pumpkin. Not after your mother passed away. How long it took for you to talk to other foals. It broke my heart, and if I felt any apprehension towards you, it was towards you being hurt like that again.” His voice hitched, his smile persisting strong.
“Daddy,” Starlight squeaked, throat tightening as she caught his glazed, loving gaze. “You almost never bring her up… I’m sorry.” She knew how it hurt for him, how he kept their marriage photo—a foldable double-frame—closed except on their anniversary.
He squeezed his eyes shut, silver glistening though as he chortled low. “Don’t apologize to me, sweetie. You always do that, you goober.”
Starlight hid her burning cheeks, smiling. “Sorry. Ah, s-sorry for being sorry.”
“You did it again!” laughed Daddy.
“I’m sorry!” He just laughed harder, filling the room, as well as Starlight’s breast. She had to join him—this couldn’t be real, she shouldn’t feel this good right now. But Dad was laughing, and so was she, gasping for breath she had been so short of as she confessed her stupidity.
Reality wasn’t so easily ignored, though. His reason for being here, a month after the domino that started it all, hadn’t left her heart unfettered since, and weighed heavily once again as she muttered, “I am, though.” His amusement vanished. “About everything. To you, obviously. I am.” It wasn’t to the girls who needed an apology most, and would have a harder time accepting it, perhaps even believing it. “I… wish I turned out differently sometimes. All the time, honestly.”
“I know.” The casual acceptance, the lack of an argument, yanked Starlight’s attention to Daddy’s sympathetic smile. “I feel the same, you know. Sometimes, anyway. I wish I was a more respectful father.” He leaned back again. “But,” he exhaled, “that’s just how it goes sometimes. We’re lumps of clay when we come into this world as foals, shaped by our lives, and we can’t help that.”
Can ponies change once they’re molded and dry? Starlight was about to ask.
“I grew up feeling safe and comfortable, your grandparents never making me feel ashamed or alone. That came with its own baggage, good and bad, and the sad reality is it helped you just as much as it hindered.” Starlight inhaled, ready to object, even though he was partially right; but he shouldn’t feel bad because of her. “And you,” Dad continued, pointing, “Starlight Glimmer, losing Aurora at such a young age, followed by Sunburst, they’ve made you as empathetic and concerned a pony as they have one who mistrusts and defends, and is independent to her occasional detriment. You don’t have to justify yourself for me, sweetie, nor anypony else. There is zero shame owning up to who you are.”
Starlight had to blink twice. “Wow, Dad, that’s… really wise of you! I think.”
He tilted his head toward the ceiling, a fond smile growing. “Your mother gets credit for that nugget of truth.”
“Which part?”
“All of it.” Dad grinned so goofily that Starlight had to snort. “She worked hard to get me to love myself—this was years before you were born, mind you. And, look at that: you got her brain and heart. My dashing looks and foalishness.”
“Oh, for sure.” Starlight reflected on what he said, and realized her warm, gently-beating heart loved him more than she ever had before now. “I think I got her heart through you, at least. If… what you're saying has any merit.” Which it absolutely did. For all her strengths and triumphs, flaws and all, they tied to how patient and love-filled his parenting was. “Thank you, Dad,” she said, met with a wobbly smile.
“I was always so stressed out about my work,” he explained, “pouring over books. Trying to beat the deadlines before they stacked up too high for me to manage, until Aurora showed me a better way. A healthier way: talking. Being on the level with my boss. He and I came to an understanding after just a single conversation. Forever after, I learned to smile at my problems and see them in another light, and not be afraid of all those messy what-ifs."
Starlight loathed her inability to read such things in a positive light—especially because Dad was trying to help her. “So how bad a problem am I, in said light?”
“Well, let’s unpack this.” Dad propped a hoof under his chin, pondering, “Removing the proverbial light from your little whoopsies—”
“‘Whoopsies?’ Dad, I made my friends—”
“I’d say you look like my baby girl, trying her best to make everypony happy.”
He just accepted her. There wasn’t a disdainful, shamed bone in his body. Dad was just… being himself. Just like her friends. Just as her friends would. They offered her the same and Starlight acted like she didn’t know them at all—the very thing she accused Twilight and the girls of being.
Everything was Starlight’s fault, that hadn’t changed, but Daddy cared about her too much to despise any of it.
Just like Maud and Trixie. And I… I…
A sob tore out, followed-up by an, “I’m fine, I’m just…” Starlight didn’t even know.
“Relieved? Scared?”
A mess. “Everything. Nothing. I don’t know anymore, my chest feels like it’s full of static and it wants out and I just want to scream.” Starlight gasped for breath. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
“You’re the captain of this journey. There’s no rush or judgement to the destination, sweetie.”
Starlight didn’t even know where that was. It meant she didn’t know what she was doing here. She was just wasting time in the end.
Dad was merely brought up to speed, and now he was cursed knowing his daughter hated herself too much to ever be truly happy, even when she was given the best life a pony could ask for on a silver platter.
From Twilight getting sick, to the existential terror of losing somepony more than just a simple friend. From her views on destiny, to what must have been a fateful meeting with the witches from a storybook (a revelation that made Dad quite pale). She spared no detail on their horrific appearance, because Daddy kept asking questions about them, and he seemed gleefully disgusted. For the sake of his sleep, she agreed they were akin to Tirek as opposed to, well, gods.
And then came everything which led to this moment: the lying, the fights, the fears, even the inane notion that ostensibly hurting her friends was less painful than them wasting their lives trying to fix her. She bared herself completely, down to the core of her black little soul and that which fueled every mistake ever made: desperation, fear, arrogance.
And Daddy heard it all, smiling and nodding. It was just like the time she confessed of her crimes, and he judged her just as harshly as he did back then.
He said his piece, and he didn’t hate her. But there was nothing left, save for guilt—the root cause of it all. All she could do was sit there, unable to look her father in the eye anymore, despite him coming all this way to help with something that shouldn’t need helping.
“I’m sorry you went through all this, Pumpkin. That you feel so darn bad.” He didn’t move to hug her for a fifth time, remaining seated on his bed, herself in a tall red chair across from him, a dark fireplace at her back. “I wish I could have been here for you. A fool’s errand in your mind, I know, and I understand your reasoning for maintaining distance.” Word took a while to reach the remote hamlet of Hollow Shades. Once it did, Daddy admitted, he needed Stellar Flare to remind him of his little girl’s refusal for that kind of attention, that she would reach out if she wished and was strong enough to handle a new lifestyle without him babying her, especially after learning from her and Sunburst’s friendship mission.
He sent a letter anyway. One of many lost in a pile of thank-yous that found its way into the trash. He understood that, too.
Starlight was so grateful, and horrible, and paradoxically longing for his doting. This was everything she wanted from her friends at the start, and she hated this distance between them and how it was her doing. What she hated was it being wrought in the most painful way possible.
“You must be real proud of your daughter now, huh?”
“I am proud,” Dad said sincerely. “I’ve never not been proud, even when you stumble. You try, Punky, and you try hard with good intentions. That sort of thinking doesn't absolve you of your guilt, though, I know, and I wouldn’t be so proud of you if it did. But when your heart is in the right place, all I can see is the filly who clung to my sweater one midnight, and vowed to never let any pony feel bad. ‘Never,’ I believe was your wording.” His withered eyes shot a cheeky wink.
Starlight’s facial temperature doubled as she looked to the ceiling. “I said that? Jeez. Kids say some pretty out-there things.”
“You ingrained it in your heart, though. You might not realize it, but you did.”
Has he not been listening? “Dad—”
“Despite your mistakes,” he said aloud, silencing her, “despite those, I say it’s what you’ve always done. And that’s what I see to this day: a mare of empathy, albeit one whose potatoes are a little mashed with fear.”
“That’s the problem, I guess,” Starlight sighed.
“It’s a more common problem than you think.”
“Well, that’s obvious.” Now it was, anyway. She need not look further than Maud and Trixie, although their “problem” didn’t drive them to hurt ponies, only themselves. That’s assuming they considered their communication challenges at all. They didn’t seem to, and it would be presumptuous and kind of awful to hope so besides. “I know ponies who are much stronger than me, Dad. Healthier in the mind than me, while I… I say some pretty… very evil things as some twisted sort of defense mechanism. And in spite of what you said, in spite of everything I’ve been told by everypony these past few weeks...” she sighed shakily, expelling her anger until only regret sat festering in her gut, “I still don’t understand them; why my friends are willing to look past all of this. Like I know why, that they’re my friends, but… I always wonder, I can’t help but wonder, why am I worth the stress? The difficulty, the hopelessness? I honestly don’t think I am. And so, I suppose, that’s where the assumptions come in—that they’re just trying to make me feel comfortable or some other ulterior motive.” There was a moment where Dad said nothing, and she refused to see what his reaction entailed. “That’s why I’m stuck, making these same stupid mistakes again and again.”
“Sweetie, you have to trust your friends to act on their wants, too.”
“But they don’t!” Starlight cried, furious again for some stupid reason. “They don’t, Dad! When it comes to other ponies they’re willing to sacrifice anything to help them, even if they don’t want to!”
“Sounds like you, in my opinion.” His smile was there, and then gone. “But how can you know that they don’t want to help?”
Starlight’s throat clenched. “I don’t,” she gasped, dropping her head. “And it’s torture.”
“If you can’t trust your friends, then who else besides me?”
“A nice thought, but I hardly trust myself.” Starlight’s belly squirmed, even as she squeezed it. “I hate this,” she murmured. “I hate…” Everything. Nothing. What I do and say to myself and my friends. I hate how my brain works. I hate how useless I am. I hate how hopeless I am. I hate.. I hate… “...myself.”
“Starlight…” Dad just looked so miserable—her latest victim. Her peppy pop.
“How do I start loving myself, Daddy?” It was the best she could think of, and she sounded so weak, so fragile.
Desperate.
It was her true self, what Trixie saw, whether Starlight liked it or not. “Trixie, earlier, she really read me like a book. She was always paying attention, Dad. Always. But she never cornered me, never made me feel uncomfortable, and whenever I did it was after the fact when I would think of all the stupid things I said and did and-and…” Starlight’s voice gave out. She sniffled, cleared her throat, continuing thickly, “She was what I wanted in a friend. More than a teacher, more than a dad. And I shut down when she saw me for what I was—a self-hating pain in the neck who never learns. Please, Dad, I never asked you for anything but I’m begging you now: how can I start loving myself so as to stop hurting other ponies?”
When Dad didn’t answer immediately, his face wrinkling in thought, an addendum formed on her tongue: “At least, how can I stop second-guessing everything I say? Like... like right now, I guess.”
Dad didn’t seem to be listening, for he spoke deliberately, as though considering each word carefully: “Fear, love, guilt…” He leveled her with a serious gaze. Not a sound in the world but his tender tone of voice, and the rapid-fire thundering of her heartbeat. “They make us do some outlandish things, honey. They can also make us do evil things. Look at those bad guys your friends have battled over the years. You’re far from the monster you think you are.”
Nightmare Moon, and Princess Luna, came immediately to mind. “I guess I have no right angsting over these things. But that’s exactly what I’m—”
Dad huffed, bringing his hoof down against the bed with the harshness of a colt. “What is it with your generation, Starlight?” he wondered pleadingly. “I have to know. You kids constantly invalidate these very real feelings you have as a problem altogether. That isn’t healthy. That’s what makes ponies like, well, not unlike you.” Starlight attempted an answer—”As a parent, it breaks my heart to think about ponies like you, who don’t even have their own Firelight to talk to about these things. It makes me all the more glad for Princess Twilight, I think she’ll teach future generations how to communicate better. To be better friends, you know?”
“She will,” Starlight replied without a thought. “I know she will. She’s already done great in bringing other kingdoms into the fold.”
His smile returned. “Equestria will never lack for friends.” Then it was gone. “But to answer your question… It’s a tricky one, that’s for sure.”
Starlight remembered Reeka’s haunting words. She never forgot them, neither from her bedroom encounter, nor those of the sisters’ ambush at the Gourd Fest. “I feel like… like I’m destined, I guess, to just screw up and lose everypony,” she confessed carefully. “Like a self-fulfilling prophecy from those books we used to read. I realize now, deep down, I always had this low opinion of myself that I was just used to ignoring. It’s a little symptomatic of how I treat my many, many mistakes.”
Dad tilted his head. “I always thought you made peace with them, and learned.”
“I don’t, or at least I hardly do, and that’s the thing. Because losing my horn, over a boneheaded rush? Doubting my friends or ignoring them, because I was bitter and guilty over that? This fiasco forced me to face the music. It epitomized this flaw of mine: denying what’s inconvenient for the sake of my own happiness. How much more selfish can a pony get?”
“You have to ask yourself why you’re like this, Starlight. And really think, too. Don’t just write it off because you’re ashamed to know the truth.”
She couldn’t ignore it anymore even if she wanted to. “I guess assuming the worst in ponies was easy… because, well, because it’s less terrifying to ‘know’ falsely than to seek the horrible truth and be stuck with it.”
Daddy’s eyes brightened, and Starlight hoped he was struck with more fatherly wisdom. She hoped so badly it hurt. “Well, there’s your problem, sweetheart.” He hunched forward, forehooves tapping three times before regarding her again. “I think I’m going to break character, Starlight, and be completely frank with you.”
Her gut sank. In his language, “breaking character” was Dad-talk for a major gut-buck of reality.
“You,” he began, hesitating, “can’t keep making these ‘colossal mistakes,’ feel bad about them, and continue barreling into them out of a fear of making more. That’s not okay. That doesn’t help you grow, especially when the problem has always lied in these insecurities you keep locked up inside. You need to eliminate them. Not try, not if you want to be happy. You need to be better than this.”
‘You need to be better than this.’
The room, and Dad’s stern disposition, tilted aside. “That sounds so simple.” Starlight’s gut churned with guilt. “Oh, gosh, why? Wh-why can’t I ever see these things for my—?!”
“Up-up-up!” Daddy waved his hoof. “No more of that.” Starlight sniffled, through sheer force of will keeping her tears in. “I’m not talking as your father, Starlight, I’m saying this as your friend: you have. To be. Better. You have to be better,” he restated, clapping each word. “Everything that’s… ‘wrong’ with you, as you say, it’s-it’s never the ponies in your life and their judgement that drives you to error.”
“I know. But I still—”
“It’s not the guilt you have, either. Or the promise you made to me that night twenty-odd years ago… It’s you, right now, Starlight Glimmer. And you have the power to learn from these mistakes and grow, like everypony else.”
Starlight felt a pressure well behind her eyes anyway. And shame. And anger. “I don’t know how. I’m a grown mare, and I have no idea if I can.”
“It’s just growing up, Sugar Plum. And trust me, growing up is hard. But, the funny thing is, we never stop growing. Look at me, and Stellar Flare. Look at Sunburst. Princess Twilight. The Elements. Even Princess Luna, from what you told me. They all struggle with mistakes rooted in their past, but they grow from them instead of ignoring them, or feeling bad about themselves—because the latter? That doesn’t make what you did okay. Nor is fixing the present mistake and nothing more. That doesn’t fly in the long-term. Fixing yourself does, though. Changing. I cannot stress this enough, sweetie. It’s hard, but it really is as simple as that.”
“I don’t know if I can do that!” Starlight couldn’t take it anymore—the reality, the realness, how insurmountable a task this seemed. And after everything she did, was there any chance of changing the fate she set for herself? “I don’t… I just don’t know if I can.”
Starlight gasped; she was shaking, her forelegs, spine, everything was shuddering out of her control. “I’m sorry,” she breathed, staring holes into the space of bedding between Daddy’s hind legs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Look at me, Dad. Look at me. Even now I can’t help how volatile I am. I can’t change that. How can I?”
Daddy fell forward from his bed, almost catching her gaze in the process. “Starlight, please look your father in the eye. You have nothing to be ashamed of with me.” It was difficult, but she trusted him enough to make the effort, to meet his sad, proud face. “There we go,” he murmured. “Look. I understand how you are, Starlight. You can’t help yourself from reacting with passion, that’s simply your personality. But what you can do is take measures to prevent it from coming out in a bad way. Ignore your fears, because you know those get you into trouble. Be empathetic to others first before confrontation, and that will steer you right, I think. No, I know it can. Because you can do anything when a personal stake isn’t on the line. That right there is your real power, Starlight. Not magic.”
Starlight’s hoof touched her horn, only to be pricked by a spiny stump. A useless, ugly growth—nothing she could think of would ever be so ironic.
“I know you don’t feel confident without it.” Dad took a step closer, the distance between them four feet. “Magic is just a tool, as far as I’m concerned. Your worth, though, runs much deeper than that.”
“But my cutie mark, m-my destiny—”
“Is just a symbol on your flank. You, my baby girl, have an understanding of the magic of friendship that I don’t think even Twilight fully realizes yet. Nor you for that matter. You help ponies, you can feel for them, even when you’re afraid of them. And whether you mean to or not, they understand you on a level that most ponies find comfortable.”
It’s… it’s just like what Sunburst said...
Starlight never broke her stare, neither did Daddy, who maintained a genuine, warm smile throughout all of that. It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t a veiled attempt to get her to stop whining—he was being sincere, as a father and a friend.
As had Twilight, and Trixie, and everypony else. What Dad just said made sense. Perfect sense!
“I’ve been horrible to everypony,” she heard herself for the hundredth time, “but this is the first time in years, maybe my whole life, where I feel like I can change something for the better.” Like she can smile, and she did, because Daddy did so with tears in his eyes. It was a sign. It had to be! “I just don’t know where to start—” Starlight stopped herself, stopped her doubts and fears.
The starting line stood before her.
Starlight fell forward from her chair, stopping a foot before her patient, kind, and understanding father. She didn’t deserve him, that much was obvious… but perhaps with time, she could feel good enough not to despair over how good her life really was.
Still is, actually. There’s still a chance to fix everything. I need to reach out and grab it without any doubts!
Dad grabbed her in a hug before she could act on this. Starlight let the dam burst at last. “I love you, Daddy! Thank you, I’m sorry!”
“I love you, too. My little ‘Light.”
“I was just so… so ashamed of what you would think of me. I couldn’t stand it,” Starlight snorted, “you knowing how badly I screwed up!”
“Oh, sweetie, I could never think that way of you. Especially when you’re a grown pony well-aware of a mistake when she’s made one.”
Starlight laughed and cried and snorted and blushed—her heart beating a little freer and less traumatically now. “I love you, Daddy.” She almost apologized for saying that twice.
His hug tightened, squeezing her heart into goo. “Love you more, Punky-Wumpkins.”
Starlight’s heart soared; she would never get tired of those nicknames, so long as they weren’t uttered in public, of course. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”
“On the contrary,” he said brightly, “when I heard from Stellar, about what you did? I couldn’t begin to tell you how proud I was! You’re… you are selfless, Starlight Glimmer. You really are.”
“N-no… I’m really not.”
“Yes, you really-really are,” he said a little forcefully. “I know you feel a little, oh, shall we say… ashamed of this debt-repayment narrative you’re running with. Whatever your reasons… your actions, Starlight, changed the impossible, and made ponies all the way in Hollow Shades fall to their knees and cry with relief, realizing Princess Twilight was safe for years to come.”
The thought of ponies moved in such a way…
Daddy added, beginning to stroke her mess of a mane, “You know, many of them were praising you like Celestia herself.” Starlight felt hot in the face.
When he pulled away, grinning, damp of face, Daddy grinned. “You look ready to pop, my dear. Shall I tell you who, specifically, was saying these things?”
“No, thank you,” Starlight laughed breathily, “I… it’s different, hearing the ponies back home act this way. But…” Something coiled round Starlight’s heart, slowly constricting it with every word: “But I kinda can’t bring myself to feel happy about it. I just can’t. Maybe it’s because of everything, but… Daddy, all I can think about is what I did to my friends. What I’ve been doing, to all of them.”
“Now that I’m not particularly proud of,” he said pointedly, albeit a tad lightheartedly.
This whole conversation was the closest he ever got to being dead serious, enough to drop his silly persona. Starlight hid her face in his shoulder. “Ugh, I know. Trust me, I hate myself doubly hard for this—”
“No. Nope.” Daddy broke away from the hug, depriving her of warmth, but she realized why as he pointed to the door. “No more hating or shame or any of that bull-pucky. You have a fine young mare named princess who’s been worried sick about you.”
Starlight didn’t need to be told twice. She did, however, need to prove to Dad just how much she needed to hear all of this, and loved him for it.
So she broke down her reservations, and swept in to peck him on the cheek. “I’ll see you soon, Dad!” she called back, galloping for the door.
“No running in hallways!” she heard him from the corridor. “You might slip and get a boo-boo!”
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That was a wonderful chapter. Gave me a bit more optimism for Glimmy.
Seems like a perfect time for the witches to show up and squash it though. If Glimmer doesn't torpedo it herself. 
9753469
Talking about Sunset got me wondering. What would happen to Glimmy (Or Fizzle for that matter) if she went through the portal? Like, what would the human equivalent of a broken horn even be? Or would they be whole as humans?
9753503
I can tell you since I did plan for a sequence, but decided to keep it in Equestria.
Starlight was going to flee through the portal after asking Sunset for help via the phonebook. She goes through with her left hand missing, to which human Pinkie exclaims that Starlight is definitely quirky enough to be a leftie
9753512
That would've been interesting to see. I also kind of wonder what level of influence the witches have over humanland. Seems like they've put their points into Equestria, so their abilities might be somewhat limited there? I doubt it's where the story is going, but I'd think it'd be worth trying to find a place where they aren't so omniscient in order to plan against them in some way.
9753533
It's going to be good I think
They have their backstory, and their ending.
9753542
I'm very excited to learn more about them. The hints they've dropped are very intriguing. My guess at the moment is that they were something more close to their counterparts in G1 if likely much more competent, then stole magic to become more powerful. Then it worked too well, thus leading to a generally hellish existence. Humans weren't meant to be gods, and they've suffered for it. At a guess, they truly loathe existing at this point, (Draggle did say it was exhausting) and perhaps they are lining things up to be freed from it? If there's one thing they couldn't destroy, I'd think it would be themselves at this point. They had let themselves fade into a state as close to nonexistence as possible before Glimmy showed up, then they saw a chance. Fuck with powerful ponies, and hope that maybe they can annihilate them properly if given the right incentive. Suicide by tiny horse. Or maybe I'm completely wrong.
9753558
Much of what you said is right or close to it.
9753568
Nice!
9753609
Congratulations, you are officially psychic!
9753643
Heh, I just looked through the witches dialogue a few times.
9753643
Its actually foreshadowed throughout. Xerses is following the story just like you
9753651
9753657
It was a joke.
9753715
I am sorry. To be honest I sometimes cannot tell with you
9753766
Eh.
9753766
9754270
The Stick is no joke tho.
9754431
Indeed. But whether or not it will be used has yet to be determined.
9754534
Certainly gotten close to it here and there. This last chapter is the furthest from using it that you've been in a while I'm guessing? Glimmy actually had a really good conversation with GlimDad. The most pleasant sustained interaction she's had with a pony in this story I think. Dude was great really. Loved his depiction here, and the depiction of their relationship.
Can I ask if Glimmy interacting with a parent was intended from the beginning of the story? I know that "The Parent Map" came out when things were already rolling. Did you have your own idea of GlimDad that you were going to use before you got a canon GlimDad with Firelight?
9754674
Funny you should ask that, and you hit the nail on the head. I had already headcanoned that there was no mother, and that Starlight as she is is a result of, for better or worse, her fathers parenting. MLP gave me more than I could hope for in that regard with the doting and easygoing Firelight
9754688
Yeah, I thought things lined up really well with him, and how Glimmy is. Really good that he fit so well. And you made me like him a lot more. Not that I disliked him, but you gave him more than the episode did. Him and Glimmy were great in this chapter.
Loved the conversation with Starlight and her dad. Her father had better success with Starlight than the mane six and her friends.
Though I know this single conversation doesn't fix everything, it still was a cathartic relief after all that tension.