> Why Me?
>  by Amethyst Deceiver
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> Why Me?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Why Me?



“Ladies and gentlecolts, I would like to propose a toast for princess Celestia, the hostess of this splendid event and the beautiful ruler of our lands. May your reign be long!” some colt wearing an  exquisite tuxedo exclaimed.
Hundreds of glasses were raised in response, cheerful grins looking at the monarch of Equestria, who sat behind a round table in the middle of the room. Celestia overlooked the guests with a warm stare, made a barely noticeable and polite smile, then bowed both in gratitude and acceptance of the compliment.  
Loud silence stood while the guests consumed their beverages, but once the glasses returned back to the tables, the casual and jovial conversations were resumed, filling the vast dining hall with laughter, not too strong and not too weak, echoes of different snippets of conversation, and an occasional loud word that was rather let out of excitement than impoliteness.
Twilight Sparkle spent most of the time paying attention to the dresses. Although she was sitting  behind the central table - a table reserved to ponies personally chosen by Celestia - nopony tried to  strike a conversation with her. They had greeted her warmly and were polite to her - after all, a new princess was a new princess - but didn't show any further interest in her presence. In fact, they were all busy playing their own games to notice her.
The dresses themselves were a total experience of its own; and it was through the garments that Twilight came to understand why glamour was called glamour. One more extravagant than the other and of all the colours existing under the rays of the Sun, the dresses seemed to show not only whence the guest had come, but also his or her income as well as position amongst Canterlot's aristocracy. The most royal members allowed themselves to showcase costumes of unique and personal design made from rare materials and cloths; whilst the less fortunate ones had to wear suits bought at expensive shops and then later modified at home in order to give the necessary touch of individuality, of class, of  belonging to a group that existed one step upper than the rest.
It was an elaborate play which showed the hierarchy of Canterlot elite, just like the palavers going on from one end of the room to another. Twilight noticed the half smiles, half grins present on most faces as  ponies talked to each other. She caught the stare of contempt behind eyes squinted from smiling on the face of a pony who was approached by somepony below his or her rank; and she caught the well hidden glints of hope behind the wide open eyes of a pony who talked with somepony a rank or two above him or her.
The words themselves, the tone they were said in, expressed the subtle relationships between the ponies  as well as the fragile veil that was present to hide the real motives of every single guest who attended the party. Twilight observed that all the ponies who had greeted her spoke in hushed tones, carefully choosing words as not to offend her and deliberately showing kind emotions; but if they were in the presence of somepony whom they considered unpleasant, their voices became emotionless, and their words extremely precise, calculated, without even a bit of extra information.
Looking at the groups of ponies around her, Twilight understood why no one approached her. Although conversation circles seemed to appear harmoniously and spontaneously, Twilight was aware of the hidden patterns beneath the process. Why the diplomat from Pongeria was sharing a table with a representative from Saddle Arabia if not for clearing up the tension that had been slowly rising in that region of the world? And if the event was of a frivolous nature, then why Blueblood was, lo and behold, being chivalrous toward Konya Kobylevskaya, one of the daughters of the Maressia ruler, a vassal country in the east that was as powerful as Celestia's kingdom?  
Therein lay hidden the reason why nopony approached her. She was a princess and an alicorn now, but  that was it.  Nothing else was particularly remarkable about her - she didn't have any kingdom, any power, any influence over the decisions of Equestrian rulers. The fact she preferred to live in a rather backward town than amongst the elite of Canterlot also wasn't something that made her noticeable. Even if she were approached, though, the conversations, despite their pleasant tone, would be dull, one pony trying to gain something from another.
Glamorous. That was the whole essence of the celebration, and Twilight was profoundly disgusted by it; but there was something else gnawing at her heart, sucking her joy like a heartworm sucks blood.
“And that's why one true anarchy is that of power,¨ Celestia, sitting on Twilight's right, said jokingly.
A series of giggles and smiles followed, but Twilight was aware of their superficiality - mere muscles pulled by force of will rather than genuine expression of emotion.
Twilight drank her glass of wine dry. It was the third she had during the banquet, but she hadn't in plans to stop. She wanted at all costs to forget everything, to get numb as possible; for the display of hypocrisy hidden behind clean manners and soft spoken words suffocated her, just like invisible heaviness pressing on her shoulders and filling her head with thoughts too sad, too depressive, too true to considerate.
“Can I have another, please?” Twilight asked the waiter standing behind her, always alert in case the  most important ponies of Equestria wanted something.
Without asking why such a young pony demanded strong beverages, the waiter strolled away.  
“Haven't you eaten too much cake, Your Majesty?” somepony sitting on the opposite side of the table asked, trying to sound both concerned and funny at the same time.  
“All is good if it's excessive,”  Celestia responded, then cleaned her mouth with a napkin activated by her magic.
Another wave of deceitful giggles and chuckles followed, making Twilight more disgusted with the whole situation. She wanted to be out of the hall immediately, otherwise she would go mad from the cackling masses gathered here.
The gathering seemed more and more grotesque to her, nothing but a carnival with ponies who took themselves too seriously, who were in it because of promises of power and influence. Everything was fake, from the grins to the decorations. What was usually an empty dead hall with a thick layer of dust covering the floor became with the help of decorations made from flowers and paper something that had a semblance of life, though an illusory one. This party, this carnival, composed from guests as empty and dead as the hall itself behind the colourful costumes, would end and the ornaments would decay, returning the place back to its usual glory.
And the music. The music had no emotion, merely a noise to drone out the usual solemn silence, another device used to cover the transience and the plastic of the occasion. Maybe the melodies and the play were technically good, especially the tones of contrabass provided by that pony who seemed amongst all of the crowd to be really into her activity, but there was nothing interesting in it otherwise, no power, no message, just an easy listening performance to keep the veil present.
“Are you enjoying yourself, your Highness,” another pony asked. Twilight noticed it was one of the ambassadors from the Crystal Empire.
Celestia smiled enigmatically. “It's not as exciting as the four months spent in an abandoned castle with  my sister and Cadence, but your company makes it worthwhile.”
Everyone shared glances of content hidden behind an apparition of sincere joy; for a compliment from the princess herself - although Twilight was sure it was nothing but empty words to keep the guests happy - was  a dream come true to them.
“Buck it,” Twilight muttered, then pushed her chair back and stood up.
Celestia looked at the new princess. “Where are you going, Twilight? You'll miss the fireworks.”
“I will return soon,” Twilight said, putting the biggest smile she could, trying to hide her disgust with the same skill as others hid their lust for power.
“Be quick,” Celestia said, then returned her attention to the guests whose wide grins barely hid worry that the princess wasn't paying attention to them.
Putting a relaxed demeanour, Twilight walked through the crowd, every movement slow, deliberate, free from tension lest it would attract unwanted attention. Guessing by the ease with which she performed the act, the Canterlot aura, the whole presence of the place, was finally consuming her.
On her way toward the stairs leading to the second floor, Twilight met the waiter from whom she had requested her beverage. Her horn started to glow purple, then enveloped the dark green bottle on the waiter's silver dish within a transparent purple cloud. Before the waiter, perplexed, managed to utter any sound, Twilight disappeared behind rows of talking ponies, the bottle levitating above her head.  
At the stairs it became easier for Twilight to move - the main crowd was in the banquet hall, and only couples looking for a more intimate experience used the tenebrous alcoves and balconies of the second floor.  As she walked up the red carpet, she noticed how the voices below blended into one cacophony and echoed off the high ceiling, a reminder that the party would end and everything that had happened and would happen here would slowly dissolve into nothingness as time marched further.
Setting her hooves on the second floor, Twilight proceeded into one of the long empty hallways, silent and poorly lit save for a lamp here and there. The further Twilight moved through the corridors, the stiller the environment around her became, shadows between the sources of light getting blacker and denser.
Twilight remembered her days as a filly, when she had been afraid of walking through these dark corridors after sunset for fear of getting kidnapped by wraiths of Canterlot who liked to sit in the pitch black corners and patiently wait for some foalish horse to pass by.  She had always walked in this labyrinth of paths with somepony beside her, and in the darkest parts she had stuck to the adult like a  baby to her mother's breast, afraid of some skeletal hoof to appear from the Stygian spaces. And the relief once the whole ordeal had been left behind transcended words - it had been similar to seeing the white rays of the Sun after a journey through the underworlds of Tartarus.
Right now Twilight experienced nothing of the sort. The hallways contained no mystery, only history. No stray wraiths awaited her behind the corners and in spaces between the light; and she knew that these monsters weren't really real, but existed only within her head as feelings lurking in parts she was afraid to dive into. The forgotten realm of her shadow, however, seemed to come knocking itself, and threatened to tear the doors down. It was something Twilight didn't want to happen - already too much of enough had slipped through the cracks, and she  could barely suppress it through extreme loads of work or extreme doses of alcohol.
Another turn to the right, and she could see the balcony, isolated and desolated, that overlooked the Canterlot garden ahead. Twilight came near the balustrade and cast her glance at the carefully trimmed vegetation beneath, cool wind passing rustling her mane.
As time went by ponies started to fill the garden, bringing their never ending chatter with them. Celestia along with the most important guests sat in a white pavilion, the yellow light of the lamps reflecting away from her green chalice. Occasionally she looked around, as if searching for somepony;  but Twilight was sure she was just checking with her trained eye what the other guests were doing. Everypony else either pursued his or her own interests in the tents placed between the bushes or underneath the shivering white stars. The atmosphere in the garden looked calm, serene, natural; yet Twilight could clearly see how artistic, precise everything was, a mere spectacle of spontaneity.
All the elite gathered in the groves for the firework display looked so small, insignificant from Twilight's point of view. The purple pony smirked at how most of them took themselves so seriously, not realizing that the bigger view one got, the more pointless their activity seemed. From the viewpoint of the solar system, Twilight reflected, all of their so called “royal” matters were nothing but dust, one moment present, the other gone without significant changes in the overall picture.
Twilight looked ahead, at the little points of yellow light that were Ponyville's houses. How she wanted to be there, not here. Maybe the lives of Ponyville denizens weren't as important as of the elite living in Canterlot, but the purple pony would give everything to live an insignificant, casual life as a Ponyville resident.
Somepony in the banquet hall had compared the ponies from Ponyville with fireflies, showing their presence but otherwise useless, not worthy of consideration. Twilight found the analogy poetic; for truly they were fireflies that shone as brightly as possible in the little time they had before the ravenous darkness consumed them. Just like fireflies they formed beautiful swarms when flying together that added charm and warmth to the everlasting night of existence, thousand lights in a blackened room.  
Twilight would give anything to be that kind of a firefly, which enjoyed life and shone its inmost light as strongly as possible in the desert of illusory existence, yet some cosmic force had decided to make her into a star, a sun that would slowly decay over millions and millions of years before finally returning to the source. Maybe there had been a chance to escape from this fate, and she had simply missed it?
It's everypony's dream to be a princess, her mother's words swirled through her head. There was something important in them, but Twilight couldn't understand what. Yes, she made her parents proud, and yes, she made Celestia proud; however, that feeling of loss, of heart ripping longing was still present. She had done everything others wanted from her, made everyone important for her happy. Why did she feel so empty, as if she had lost something extremely significant?
Better to drink, Twilight concluded. The pain was too intense to handle - it would be better to avoid it than try to understand it.  She moved the bottle to her lips and took a large, not very princess like, gulp of the liquid, foreseeing the numbness ahead.
“I didn't expect to see you here, Twilight Sparkle,”a voice from behind said.
Twilight turned around, a stream of dark liquid running down her chin. “Princess Luna, why aren't you with all the other ponies? The firework is about to start.”
“The sight is more beautiful here,” Luna said as she walked closer to the balustrade and the new princess. “But what are you doing here?”
“Nothing” Twilight said, bottle hidden behind her left side. “Thinking.”
“About what?”
“Nothing in particular.”
“You've chosen a nice place. Just wait till the fireworks start,” Luna said, standing on Twilight's right side.
As if by cue yellow balls leaving trails of sparks flew up from the garden and into the night sky. When they reached a proper altitude, the burning spheres exploded with a popping sound into flowers of green, red, yellow, blue, and magenta, all blending together and forming additional colours. The only negative thing about the spectacle was the brevity of every single explosion - the combinations only lasted for several moments before turning into nothing, only a few sparks falling back to the ground and yet still disappearing midway through the fall, a barely noticeable gray trail left behind. One loud boom, then a flash of brilliance, and then nothing, but what a flash it was while it lasted.  
Twilight noticed a certain progression in the firework display. It had started simple, with a few bangs, then continued to escalate, more and more projectiles rising and exploding in a plethora of colours, some ascending in swirls, some taking a sinusoid trajectory, some going up in a zigzagging way, all coming together at a certain altitude and unleashing showers of brilliant sparks. As the show reached the climax, the flow of fireworks came as fast and dense as the first wave of arrows during the beginning of a battle, making the sky as bright as day and in a perpetual shift of colours.
At the peak point, golden projectiles were fired, and they swallowed all other hues into their golden sheen. The nocturnal sky, usually dark and quiet, was filled with myriads and myriads of golden sparks, little stars that were so close Twilight could touch them and see them fall on the balcony.
The last charge reached the limit of height and exploded, and its fragments exploded, and then once again the fragments exploded, popping and sending more and more golden splinters into the darkness. As the last wave of fireworks descended, the sparks achieved a darker hue before losing their brightness, and reminded Twilight of amber, beautiful and cold.
The last drops of the amber rain gone, Twilight found herself again in the meditative space of the night, and couldn't think but of the fireworks reflecting the whole Canterlot elite gatherings. Nothing but a burst of powder against a dark background they were, colourful and full of vitality one moment, gone without a trace the next. Maybe they were aesthetically pleasant, at least on the outside, on the level of décor, costumes, and speech; but that was all to it, nothing more, nothing less. The only things that truly remained after the little burst of illusory life were the empty halls and gardens, stripped of all decorations and free from the carefree laughter, where silence reigned supreme.
This realization was the thing that pressed on Twilight right now and made her want to drink the bottle of wine dry lest further truths might illuminate her existence. And, if set free, these truths would not only illuminate, but burn her alive; for even the little embers that somehow had passed through the wall inside her mind made Twilight suffer like she had never suffered before. After all, it was painful, incredibly painful, to realize how much of her life was a lie, just a preparation for something she couldn't imagine and didn't want to consider.  
“Why me?” Twilight asked in a tired tone.
“Pray tell?” Luna asked.
Twilight turned toward the princess of the night and spread her wings. “Why did I become this?”
“What is wrong with it?”  
“Everything,” Twilight growled. “The wings, the princess title, the Canterlot life, the way ponies look at me, the things they tell about me. I am tired of it.”
Luna sighed, then closed her eyes.“It's your destin-”
“I don't want it!” Twilight said, cutting Luna off, her voice rising. “I don't want to be here. I don't want to have wings. I don't want to do this...stuff. I don't want.”
Tears glittered in Twilight's eyes, reflecting the whiteness of the moon; and although she tried to suppress them, they ran down her cheeks. A lump in her throat didn't let the words come out as freely as she wanted them to; and every time she opened her mouth to say something, her throat constricted and tears swelled in her eyes.
“All this alicorn stuff,” Twilight continued, struggling to hold the wave of emotions rising from her chest. “It's not for me. If I knew it would be like this, I would never had listened to Celestia and my parents. Why did I ever listen to them? Should have failed that dumb test. Stupid Rainbow Dash with her stupid rainbooms. I would give everything to be just a dumb unicorn, or just an unicorn with no talent who likes to read.”
“Then you wouldn't have met your friends,” Luna said in her cool tone that seemed both maternal, intimate, as well as cold and calculated like that of a scientist.
“You know what?” Twilight said, eyes shining like coals from anger. “I wish I haven't met them. Why did Celestia sent me to Ponyville, then took everything away from me? It was just another plan of hers, I guess, preparing me for this. I could have disobeyed, but noooo, Twilight, you have to follow orders like a good filly you are. Just an idiot, the stupidest in all of Equestria.”
As her mouth got dry, Twilight took another gulp of the wine, not giving a flying buck about the presence of a princess mere inches away - she was too drunk, too furious, too sad to care. The wine, though, had a different effect this time than usual: instead of stupefying her more, the beverage just opened the gate that kept away things she didn't want to see, let alone ponder about.
All the repressed emotions floated to the surface of her consciousness. Twilight felt flames of pure rage lick her face, her teeth clenched to the point of pain. At the same time excruciating sadness  tore her heart apart and stood as a ball in her throat, bringing more and more tears to her eyes. With all the turmoil going on inside her, Twilight felt like a piece of dynamite with the fuse set on fire, the spark rapidly approaching its destination.
“Yes, Celestia sent you to Ponyville for a reason.” Luna said. “Everything she put you through was for a reason. But she has a plan for you. You're the one she needs.”
“BUT I DON'T WANT TO BE THAT ONE!” Twilight exploded, eyes opened wide, pupils constricted, tears running down her cheeks. “Forget it! I don't want it! I don't want it! I don't want! I don't want to be your stupid one! I'm tired of your vicious games! I don't want it! I don't bucking want it!”
Twilight sent the bottle flying against the wall on the other side of the balcony, which shattered into manifold pieces and left a dark stain on the wall reminding of dark venous blood.  
“All I wanted was to save Ponyville and my friends, not become a bucking alicorn,” Twilight continued shouting, walking from one side of the balcony to the other, although her tone weakened word after word. “And I don't want it! I don't want it! I don't want it! I don't want to be an alicorn or whatever the hay Celestia wants me to be. I don't want to be. I don't want to.”
Luna walked toward Twilight and wrapped her forelegs around the crying alicorn.
Possibly for the first time since fillyhood Twilight broke into uncontrollable sobbing. Her whole body convulsed as her eyes flooded her world with tears, wails of sadness escaping from her throat. Usually a private mare who held her emotions in check, Twilight didn't feel guilty about crying in Luna's hooves; after all, they were alone, every single visitor gone from the garden. Furthermore, Luna felt warm, comforting, protective, and it had been a long time since somepony held her in this motherly way. Twilight couldn't even remember if Celestia ever hugged her this way.  
“All I want is to be a normal unicorn and live in Ponyville's library,” Twilight said between sobs, shivering.
Luna put her right hoof over Twilight's mane, then started moving it up and down in slow tranquil strokes. “But everypony wants to be a princess.”
“I don't want to be that bucking princess anymore,” Twilight said, face buried in Luna's chest. “Never  wanted.”
“Destiny is a mysterious thing.”
“Why can't we just walk away?”
“If it were that simple,” Luna said. “If it were.”
“Then whoever made this is a sadist.” Twilight said through her clenched teeth.
Luna opened her mouth to say something in return, but not a single sound escaped her mouth. Unable to say something, Luna focused on moving her hoof through Twilight's head, removing purple strands that fell upon the face of the distressed horse.  
Slowly Twilight stopped shaking, and tears stopped flowing from her eyes, but she didn't let Luna go. It was warm in Luna's hooves. Twilight felt like a little filly again who used to hide away from the world underneath a comfortable woollen blanket and fall asleep within its comforting darkness. This sensation, along with Luna's heartbeat pumping hypnotically through her body, lulled Twilight into the realms of sleep and safety where everything was fine, perfect, not cold, cruel, impersonal.
Twilight shifted her head left, still holding Luna, and focused her stare on the white disc of the moon and the silent garden below, dark and forgotten, as if not a single party had swept through its thorny groves and rotten pavilions for centuries. She thought about her friends, and wondered how they spent this night, how they felt, what kind of emotions the nocturnal landscape evoked in them. Applejack  was probably getting ready for sleep. Rarity probably designed new dresses under the soft yellow glow of her night lamp. Pinkie Pie either organized a party or participated in one or both. Fluttershy was most likely at home, book in her one hoof, a cup of tea in the other. And Rainbow Dash? Rainbow Dash must be having the time of her life with the Wonderbolts.  
Thinking about her friends made Twilight smile. At least they were happy. Maybe they wouldn't achieve such levels as her, and maybe they would never be as famous - with the possible exceptions of Rainbow Dash and Rarity - but at least they would spend their lives doing what they wanted. Tears once again rolled on Twilight's eyes as she remembered all the precious moments - good, bad, and idiotic - she had when she had been just an unicorn in Ponyville. Tears once again threatened to drown Twilight as she remembered that she would never be as free, as carefree, as happy as back in those days, when Canterlot and its... affairs had been as far away from her existence as stars in the sky. She would give everything - absolutely everything - to return back to her old self again, to enjoy life without wondering about neither past nor future, to be nothing more than a smart unicorn who loved to read and share her knowledge with her friends, even for a single day.
“I don't want to be the one,” Twilight sighed, eyes shining and watery.
Luna hugged Twilight as strongly as she could, placing her head on Twilight's, avoiding Twilight's horn. “It’s just the way it is.”   
“I wish I could be transformed and be somepony else,” Twilight said. “Or myself again, my former self.”
“You need some sleep. Everything will be clearer in the morning.” Luna said in a warm voice. “Close your eyes and relax. I won't abandon you.”
“I'll try.”
However, Twilight didn't feel relieved. It just felt as if all lights in the world went out and nothing but darkness, all consuming, all pervading, remained.