VI.IV - Shoulda Seen This Coming
Starlight awoke gasping for air, flinging forward as though to fill her lungs instantly. A chill enveloped her soaking coat.
What was that? She’d been drowning, or so it felt, and resurfaced only at the last possible moment. Why am I so afraid? Her chest swallowed deep, it felt, like anxiety juicing her hollow like an orange.
Only, it wasn’t.
I’m… I’m not afraid. Simultaneously a miracle and a disturbance, marked by little more than a cuddling warmth which snaked throughout her body. Contentment, right? It had been so long she wasn’t sure, and to what, even more uncertain.
After all, she’d laid her head fearing the evening, her friends. That’s right. I made an edit to Starswirl’s spell, then opted to grab some shuteye before dinner… and an apology to the girls.
That’s right.
She had that to do.
...Fun~
This was all assuming those mares still accepted Starlight deep down, and weren’t just putting on a—Stop. Stop it. This kind of thinking doesn’t help anything.
Starlight stamped out the dread trying to worm its way in. What did she have to fear, other than that which lived and died in her own head?
The scariest place in Equestria, she joked with a snort. With Twilight, the world and ponies, they don’t have to be so scary anymore. This was the mantra she recited as she climbed out of bed, showered, wrangled with her toothbrush for a sorely-needed cleaning and her hairbrush as well.
No fear. No fear.
But why was she so nervous?
Why awaken this way, like something terrible had happened in her sleep?
Perhaps it was a blessing that Starlight didn’t often remember her dreams. Just feelings, if nothing else. This one must have been terrifying, yet pleasant, too. Nothing more.
The sun hung high in the sky; amber which previously bathed Starlight’s quarters pierced the dining hall in pale golden shafts.
“I… guess it wasn’t sunset,” she muttered, to the crushing response of absolutely nopony.
Four chairs stood at the feast table’s sides, empty, no places set before them. Starlight blinked, and suddenly there were platters and bowls all over, brimming with mouth-watering foods; seven chairs surrounded the setup, devoid of the friends who now regarded her with fear, apprehension, disgust, and pity. The post-Gourd Fest breakfast had returned with punch to the gut.
And then they were gone, the table reset, four chairs standing alone and patterned with light. Starlight’s roiling gut lingered, until she inhaled, thinking to herself calming words.
This certainly wasn’t going to be like that time, whenever it would come. I only overslept. No biggie. Everypony will understands, hopef—Of course they did. Twilight said so herself: they were happier at Starlight’s return than angry by her running away.
So I have nothing to be afraid of anymore. Her heart twisted and writhed.
Then snapped into pieces to the sound of, “Starlight!”
“What?!” she cried, whirling.
Standing in the doorway was Spike cradling a steaming bowl. Across his parted lips, a smile trembled forth. “Starlight.” He sounded happy.
Happy to see her.
Happy—despite being the most distant and disregarded out of everypony by Starlight’s negligence. “You still care.” Starlight swallowed as he adopted a puzzled, empathetic expression. “I mean, you’re still happy to see… m-me…”
Spike, stock-still, suddenly jogged over. The aroma of strawberries and cream oatmeal teased a starved ache to shiver down Starlight’s tongue as he placed it upon the table behind her. He pivoted around, latching around Starlight’s forelegs. “I was afraid you’d left again, but welcome back.” His words came stiff and thick. “Glad you finally remembered we’re your friends.”
A lump choked her. “Y-yeah… yeah, me too.” She freed a leg, encircled his noggin. “Thanks. Um…” She hugged him, debating as she bit her tongue until Spike pushed away.
“What’re you thanking me for, exactly?”
“For…” Starlight kicked, clunking against the crystal. She met his eyes. “For not hating me, if I’m being honest. Sorry if that’s horrible and judgemental! I’m just so scared of saying the wrong thing, and-and I—”
A finger pressed against her lips. Peeking around it, a sad smirk and gleaming emerald-eyes. “Everypony says the wrong thing sometimes, Starlight. What’s important is explaining what you mean, so nopony takes you the wrong way.”
That sounded even harder than what Daddy told her. “In that case, you should hate me for disregarding your feelings for the sake of what I so conceitedly believed would be a better quality of life.” Starlight lowered her gaze. She had the power to do it again. “Wouldn’t be the first time I did that, anyways.”
A gentle force lifted her chin, and her eyes, the short distance toward meeting Spike’s. “We can’t hate you, Starlight.” He retracted his claw, balling it. “I mean, sure, the way you acted made us feel a little bad, but we’re close enough to know you weren’t doing it maliciously. We were just worried, is all, and wanted to make you comfortable any way we could.”
“Right.” Starlight sighed out her nose, her guilt remaining lodged within however. It would do neither of them good. “Of course it was nothing like I thought in my head. And you hit the nail on the head, as usual, Spike! If I’d just explained how I felt instead of being childishly ashamed—!”
“Starlight.”
“Like, I made you guys feel just awful! Hated. Unloved. Despite all my intentions aiming for the opposite!” Spike wrapped around her again, the act clenching Starlight’s throat. She gasped, trying to blink her vision back to clarity, then conjure up a tissue only to realize she never would again. The thought brought for a single, bitter sob. The one consoling her summoned another. ”I’m so sorry for brushing you off, Spike… Y-you knew how I was from the s-start, but I—!” He tried shushing her, but this needed to be heard. “But I tricked you before I left! And I and everypony else brushed you off ‘cause we were too stupid and afraid of the truth… I should have listened to you from the start, Spike. Then none of this would’ve ever happened.”
And Spike simply chuckled.
Of all things, she heard a chuckle! Spike pulled back, eyes twinkling emeralds and a smile as heartbreakingly radiant. “That’s my life! I’m used to it, Starlight. I care more that you’re here and talking to us again.”
She didn’t hear that last part, only that Spike had grown accustomed to being ignored, and lending himself as a stability only when called upon. “I’m so sorry. Nopony should feel like ‘the Outcast.’”
“Starlight, I’m a pony in a dragon’s body. It’s always been like that, and it doesn’t bother me, really! Just like how…” His fast took a crestfallen turn. “Just like how you’re used to… um—”
“Life dumping its waste all over my head, yeah. I rue the day Twilight realizes you’re just like me in that regard.”
“Well, I got thick scales,” boasted Spike, demonstrating this by scratching his arm, nails screeching as though raking across a chalkboard. “Meanwhile, you…”
“...My entire heart is like a callus.” A second later Starlight cackled.
Spike added his boisterous colt-like laugh, and the two of them looked to one another, giggling, blushing, before returning to covering their mouths, yet hooting still like this was the funniest thing in the world. “I gotcha!” he said.
“And you get me.” Starlight tried to catch her breath. “I like that, Spike. What you said. You’ve always been one of the wisest ponies I know.”
Spike waved a claw. “Naw, I wouldn’t say that… The girls are leagues above me when it comes to life experience. Same as you!”
“Me? Smart?” Starlight blew a raspberry at the notion.
“You are! When you’re not caught up in your own head.” Spike fiddled with his claws a second, then reached and tapped the bowl closer to Starlight. He hadn’t insulted her by giving a spoon—the indicator that this was for her, not him or Twilight.
“I made this for ya,” he said, displaying an amethyst bordered in gold. “Twilight did something magical, connected this to your bedroom or something. It said the place was empty though—”
“A foal-monitoring spell?” Starlight smacked her burning cheek. “I can’t believe this, she’s actually—!” A sigh. “She’s worried about me, reasonably so, and is being practical while doing it.” Then there was Spike, shrinking under her scrutiny. “Twilight’s charged you with keeping watch, didn’t she? Does that mean she’s not here?”
Spike bit his lip, kicking the ground. “Look, Starlight, I know you liked doing things on your own. But I thought to surprise you with something nice like breakfast in bed!”
“This is perfect, Spike. Thank you for dismissing my needless guilt.” She smiled more kindly than she felt. But this was still a kind, unnecessary gesture that he went and did regardless.
Starlight turned towards the bowl, catching Spike out of the corner of her eye pumping his fist. “I knew it, Twi, I knew it,” he hissed.
Starlight chuckled, and face-planted into her oatmeal. The sweet mush was miles above the stuff she ate last night, or rather, yesterday morning. With warmth it filled the hollowness in her belly. Her heart had settled finally, too—perhaps she was just hungry and nothing more.
Spike guffawed at the sight he returned to. “H-hungry?!” he cried. Starlight went rigid, her eyes meeting his, then returning to the bowl clutched in her two hooves, the poor thing on the receiving end of one heck of a tongue bath.
Unfortunately for her, Spike could never resist a zinger when the opportunity arose. “You know we have soap and water for cleaning those, right?”
Starlight practically threw the thing a foot or two away from her. She switched to a more dignified propping upon the table. “Do you have more?”
“Not if you’re just going to waste all my lipstick like that again, young lady!” Starlight tilted her head. Spike almost choked, but this definitely wasn’t his strongest joke ever. “Your face,” he explained, scratching his head, “you look like a foal who just found her mother’s medicine cabinet.”
Starlight flushed and wiped her mouth, shrieked at the gunky sticky mess on foreleg, then scraped it on the table, shooting him a wide grin.
Spike would have pumped a fist if he wasn’t carrying another bowl. The joke was still good—she just didn’t get it at first. “I’ll make you another serving,” he said, walking to the seat across from her. “I only made enough for two, and I’d give you this one if it wasn’t dusted in sapphire!”
Delectable stars twinkled across his porridge. Spike licked his lips, ready to dive in with Starlight’s gusto.
As he took a seat Starlight said, “Wait, you’d make more? Aw, then don’t sweat it, Spike. Now that it’s settling, I’m feeling kinda full.”
Whether or not that's true, Spike wasn’t going to insist on her. He left it at, “My offer stands, and it’ll stand to the end of time.”
A humored grunt, and then, “Thanks, Spike… For believing in me, too.” He was puzzled, but Starlight, seated now, only gave a smile propped on her forehooves. “If you weren’t around, Twilight might have lost hope much sooner. Not just in me, but herself, too. We’d not be having this conversation if not for your… well, you!”
Spike lowered his face, spooning his oatmeal. “I didn’t do that much, Starlight. I was just… me, I guess.”
“And that was plenty.” Starlight grinned, eyes squeezed shut like she was in pure bliss right now. “Thanks for being you, Spike! I owe more than an apology, but I promise to make the rest of my time here under you and Twilight’s roof worthy of your efforts.”
And it just got heavy again. Even worse, Spike failed to keep a straight face as emotion tightened around his throat. “Dang it.” His spoon dropped, clattering against the bowl’s edge as he scrubbed his eyes. “Starlight, you dummy,” he sniffled, “it’s ‘our roof.’ Not mine’r Twilight’s.”
“Right! Right, sorry. Sorry.” She was grinning despite herself. Spike couldn’t help but join her, because she was back, and she was smiling again. Just like Twilight wanted.
“Where is Twilight, anyway?”
Spike’s spine went stiff. “Sh-she’s at Canterlot for the day. Seeing Princess Celestia and thanking her and Luna for their help this past week.”
Just like we rehearsed.
“Oh.” Starlight frowned a moment. “Well, no biggie. When you finish I’ll head out and see to the other ponies. I got a lot of apologies to make.” She scratched her head, bashful. “And some more ugly-cries to cry. Hopefully some of the last, f-for a while, of course.”
A chill iced over Spike’s heated core. Oh, crabapples, this isn’t good!
Part of Spike cried out, to assure that there was nothing wrong with crying, especially now, and that Starlight had nothing to be ashamed of. He wished to tag along and tell her that the others wouldn’t dare consider these things apologies, just sorely-needed talks between friends.
He wanted to keep that smile on her face. To spend time with his friend. For her to take it easy, finally, after a month of living in irrational fear of her pony family.
But stopping Starlight here and now was more important than any of that. “Wouldn’t you rather watch a movie? Or read?”
Starlight smiled. “Honestly, yeah, more than anything. But if I don’t do it now, then I’ll be spending the rest of my day thinking about them. I have to do this now, Spike. Like, right now.”
“But they’re all busy!” Spike masked himself with a mouthful of oatmeal. Followed by two more. The gnawing in his chest wouldn’t fill though.
Starlight cocked a brow. “And how do you know that? I mean, half of them are back from important business-stuff. The others never leave town. You were with Rarity, even, how come you haven’t accompanied her if she went back to one of her boutiques?”
It was so easy to forget just how freakishly perceptive Starlight was in light of this crazy past month.
“You’re sweating like you got something to hide.” Starlight knitted her brows, touched her heart. “Please be honest with me, Spike. Is everypony mad that I slept through dinner last night?”
“Of course not!” he said sincerely.
“Then why don’t you want me seeing them?” Her face fell. “Oh, don’t tell me it’s another party. It’s another party, isn’t it?”
Spike bit his nails. Would feigning disappointment make her more upset with those girls? Would the obvious lie worsen it? Should he just tell her?! After all, she may very well be the key to keeping Twilight safe.
Twilight, worried Spike. She’ll be okay. They’ll be fine! The pieces lined up, there’s no reason they wouldn’t be—Starlight proved that much. But her reaction, if she found out, it’d be… well, it definitely wouldn’t be pretty.
“Spike, please be honest with me,” Starlight cried.
He couldn’t stand the pain in her voice. “We weren’t expecting you to wanna see anypony today!”
“And why does that matter? Isn’t that a good thing?” she genuinely wondered.
“It is! And Twilight would totally be proud of you—!”
“If she was actually in Canterlot?” Starlight cut in. Her eyes widened toward the one second Spike was stunned into silence. “I knew it,” she said, then snarled, “I knew it! Why is she hiding from me, Spike?”
“She’s not, I swear! Starlight, look, you two can talk tomorrow, I promise. For now, let’s just spend some quality time together, yeah?”
Starlight’s face set into neutrality. “We can.” She inhaled deep, eyes boring into Spike’s. “After I know what Twilight’s up to. Because you’d happily tell me what she was doing without hesitation if it wasn’t meant to be a secret. I know you well enough to know that much.” Spike was stuck. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say that Starlight would believe without somehow poking more holes in it. He was stuck, he failed Twilight and the girls, and now Starlight was going to tear into him until she found the truth. Maybe, just maybe, if he stalled her long enough, Twilight and the girls would return from—”Flutter Valley.” Starlight’s voice was faint, her eyes wide. “They all went to Flutter Valley, didn’t they? Despite what I told them, despite my threats, despite Twilight swearing she wouldn’t go… Your silence tells me I’m dead-right. I don’t even need to see your face.” Her eyes had lowered towards her empty bowl. “How, though? How could they possibly know where I found…”
And her eyes snapped to meet his. “S-Starlight?”
“She went into my room, under my bed,” uttered Starlight in a cold, dead voice, “while I was sleeping?!”
They have no right.
But they were totally in the right.
She lied to me.
But of course she would—of course she’d view it as her duty to do so, both for Starlight’s sake, and to keep Equestria safe. Any sane pony would the same. Heck, Starlight already had.
I’m so angry.
Because it made absolute sense why Starlight would be left behind. I’m baggage. A hindrance. I’ll be bait for the witches and have nothing to offer the girls when the confrontation comes.
But they’ll be killed, or be tortured. Something irreversible will happen. Twilight will lose everypony, or Starlight will lose them all instead, truly fulfilling Hydia’s promise. Twilight said it herself after all: they’re villains with a sick sense of humor.
It made sense.
It only made sense.
But Starlight wanted to scream, and cry, and hug her friends tight and never let them go anywhere again.
Even Spike, but his insistence on getting in her way both hauntingly mirrored the evening this mess started and irritated her to pieces. Even though he, too, had valid reasons for doing such.
He stuck his arms out, scowling—a speck in this great hall. “There’s no reason to do this,” he said. “Just drop it, Starlight, please. They’ll be back before you get there anyway.” Starlight didn’t slow her step. By now it was evident that he wasn’t trying to permanently impede her (not after trying to act the ball-and-chain with his own person), but slow her down any way he could.
“I’m actually exhausted right now,” she said aloud. “You’re strong, Spike, in a lot of ways I’m jealous of. And you’re stubborn as a mule, as any good friend oughta be.” Starlight stepped around the dragon, and Spike was a veritable reflection, never leaving her front. She pushed, he hugged, she pushed harder and he hooked his claws into the carpet. Starlight had to chuckle, she was too proud of him now to be angry towards him. “Feel that, Spike? My muscles are weak now, my energy next to nothing.” He hugged Starlight’s forelegs, fueled by the very terror she vied to use on Twilight. “You’re doing good. Whatever Twilight asked you to do exactly, you’re close to winning.”
‘Close,’ but she wouldn’t let him. Wet warmth soaked the fur where he pressed his face—he knew it, too. “Stop fighting like this, Starlight. Why are you so determined to find out?”
“Honestly?” Starlight laughed. “Despite the reality being all but fact, I wanna make sure my rage isn’t misplaced. I wanna never jump to conclusions again. And I guess some pathetic, desperate flicker of hope inside is burning on the wish that I’m wrong, that I’ll find everything as it should be.” Lickety’s journal, the map. She ought to have burned them—another potential disaster that was obvious in hindsight.
Spike shook his head, wiped his eyes, nuzzled her all at once. “You torture yourself constantly, Starlight. And so does Twilight. I hate it, it hurts to watch and I don’t know what to do to make you see.”
So suddenly Starlight ceased exerting force against him that she stumbled a step against his strength, and Spike collapsed, clutching to her still. “See what?”
“I didn’t want Twilight doing this either. ‘Cause I knew this, right here, this woulda happened no matter what. But Twilight took my fears, your reactions, all of those ponies explained them away or justified this insanity, just like you did a month ago!”
The room spun, Starlight’s head wobbled it seemed from deja vu. She fell, causing Spike to collapse into her chest. His face was dry as a bone, and warm like pavement under the sun. Shudders rippled down Starlight, and not solely from the sensation. “Are you telling me… that I… I made those girls…”
Spike bunched her fur in his fist. She felt him snarl before he yanked himself back to reveal it. “Stop doing that already! The two of you, just stop… stop… hating yourselves, for Celestia’s sake!”
It was exactly what she feared. “This’s made her ‘suicidal,’ too.” She didn’t even realize that Spike might not understand the term. She hardly felt him there, saw him gritting his teeth at her.
Perhaps he understood, typically the most mature out of all of them. “Twilight… doesn’t show it much.” His gaze lowered, his grip tightening, pinching the skin beneath Starlight’s coat. “She doesn’t show it ‘cause she’s ashamed of it, like you. I know her, Starlight, I know her and she always pretends that I don’t but I do. I know how she can get when she feels guilty, I know she blames herself even when things are just out of her control. But this time is worse because like all those times, she feels like she should have been!”
In control of Starlight, that is. Their friendship. It was her realm after all, and she very nearly failed in the worst way imaginable. Starlight could barely swallow the lump in her throat, let alone speak.
Spike continued, “Please, Starlight, I don’t want you to hurt yourself further over this. Or Twilight. Neither of you see what you’re doing to one another, you’re both so stuck in your own heads!”
“Sh-she’s doing the same stupid, irresponsible, selfish thing that I’ve done.” Starlight tried her very best to steady her breathing. Keyword being ‘tried.’ “Why, Spike?” She circled her forelegs around him, needing the physical contact. “Why is she just falling into the same mental traps that she knows I’ve plunged down all my life? That she herself nearly had this past month?” A gasp tore forth, a cry as Starlight realized, “Why doesn’t she care about her own life, or how her friends ‘n family will feel about it if something happened to her?!”
Did she not understand, after all this time, why Starlight sacrificed with such eagerness?
That this… and her actions in turn…
Starlight nearly choked: this was beyond friendship.
It felt like an obsession if anything. Not towards Starlight, just as it hadn’t been for Starlight herself—not wholly anyways. Rather, it was a sense of duty, compounded by regret and guilt and the hope that doing something insane will fix everything, outside and inside even more so.
“This is all my fault.”
“No it’s not, that’s what I’m saying! Starlight, look at me.” And she did, but only by the guidance of Spike’s claws. His eyes were bright, glimmering, and set with a mix of rage and love. She’d never seen such intensity from him. “Listen to me, Starlight, and tell me: how can you or Twilight ever move past this, if the two of you hate yourselves too much to understand why you’re here in the first place?”
But they did understand. “We love each other, Spike. We’re also obsessed with feeling good about ourselves and making others feel the same.”
And he released her face, his claws remaining upraised as if to catch the fly that was Starlight’s fleeting attention. He saw it in her flickering eyes, gazing about the hall to find anything but his scrutiny—now more than ever Starlight needed to get up, to move, to find Twilight and save her from making a horrible mistake like she herself had. She was wasting time. They were wasting time—“Talking.”
The word cut through Starlight, her thoughts. She blinked, realizing but confused as to whether that came out of Spike or not. “Talking, Starlight,” he said, reaching beyond her doubts and grasping her absolute attention. “You two have a lot to discuss and it won’t be pretty, but you gotta if you wanna get through this, I know it!”
Starlight was speechless. Did he really just say that, echoing her thoughts the other day?
Spike hugged himself, bit his lip. Self-conscious. Suddenly a child again.
An actual child. At least by dragon standards.
You brilliant little boy.
“Spike?” Starlight inhaled, her lungs pushing past the thick pain wriggling in her breast. “Spike, let me go. I promise I’ll bring her home, and we’ll all return safely. We’ll return so Twilight and I can talk, empathize with each other, and finally grow up. And not just us, but our friends, too. That’s you included, big guy. You’re as much a part of this as all of us. I won’t hear any argument about it.”
He was stunned before suddenly interested in picking his claws instead of watching Starlight’s likely manic face. She was ready to start begging when he suddenly met her gaze without fear. “How’re you gonna get there? Maybe… maybe I can send you to Celestia via dragonfire.” A great idea, if time wasn’t of the essence. “You can’t teleport anymore, not without hurting yourself.”
Starlight ignored the lurch of terror piercing her breast, donning a smirk. “Exactly.” Starlight reeled her forehooves in, smiled apologetically, and said, “Sorry for being a hypocrite. I…” She might not actually survive this, or the encounter. Anything was possible now.
“I love you, Spike. You’re a great friend.”
Worry crossed his face, emotion welled in his eyes. “Starlight, wha—?” And she shoved; watching him fly down the hall, reaching beyond all her might, Starlight summoned the magic flowing in and around her, envisioning the veritable citadel gate that was Flutter Valley’s threshold, shrouded in fog, and steeped in ink.
And she pushed out, screaming as lightning or something equally as searing pierced her forehead.
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Holy fuck. Twi and company have done a dumb. An incredibly massive dumb. And Glimglam really didn't think that through, the poor dumb horse.
Going to Tia would've been better. Even if teleporting herself gets her there quicker, it's not like she can do much with a nasty case of exploded head syndrome. It was kinda badass though, ngl. God, I'm so fucking hyped for the next chapter now! Other than Twi and Butters, none of the other Mane 6 have seen The Witches, right? Hell, other than Tia, nobody other than Glimmy has seen all 3. Hope we get to see their initial meeting.
Is the title of this chapter aimed at us partially, btw?
Because I really do feel like I ought to have seen this coming.
9783292
Both you and Starlight lol
Dammit, Twilight!
Well knew the happiness couldn’t completely last. Now we gotta see how much damage Starlight has now that she teleported again.
9783791
Yeah, seriously... Last time sent her to the ER with blood gushing from her head, and that was just a pop from one side of Ponyville to the other. Idk how she's gonna be in any shape to get much done on the other side of this one... Poor pony is gonna make her face numb like Fizzy.
9784019
Whatever happens just remember one thing: it’s all Twilight’s fault.
9785633
I mean, Glimmy honestly ought to have gone to Celestia, had her and Luna come along, and tell the mane 6 to maybe not do something that utterly fucking stupid and insane. Like I said, she really didn't think this through. It woulda taken a couple extra minutes at most. Just have Spike send her a message, and she could pop over and get Glimmy. Then go do the whole disappointed mom thing with Twi. Come to think of it, Tia might be right behind Glimmy. Spike's first action after this will be to send a message to Celestia.
Random thought, but I wish AJ had seen the witches in action at some point. She'd have been the one to tell Twi exactly how dumb this is. But all she knows right now is that they're "Big and scary".
9785692
Yes, but Starlight wouldn’t have had to consider either option if Twilight hadn’t gone to Flutter Valley in the first place. No matter how you look at it everything traces back to Twilight’s decision to go to Flutter Valley so therefore it is Twilight’s fault.
9785918
Honestly, Twi barreling into this within a few hours of finding a way to Flutter Valley, almost certainly without notifying Tia, tops a lot of what Glimmy has done in this in terms of silly ponyness. Still, Glimmy did a Glimmy right there.
True. She needs to be poked with The Stick.
9785931
True.
9785931
9786341
Stick poking commence!
9788220
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...Are you fucking SERIOUS!?