Should I Stay or Should I Go?
So apparently I’m going to be a princess.
Me. A princess.
Me.
A princess.
I mean, what the friggety.
I stop pacing around Golden Oaks and lightly poke my wing again. I shudder at the perfectly normal feeling of being poked; I’m still adjusting to having feelings in places I didn’t used to have places, like missing a tooth applied in reverse. Somehow.
“Twilight?” Spike asks. “Is someth-”
“How am I supposed to be a princess?” I start pacing again. “I’m going to be helping to rule Equestria. I don’t know how to be a princess! I don’t know ruling! I don’t know law-making! I don’t know how to hold court! And those’re just the basics!”
“Twilight, you’re gonna sta-”
“I don’t even know how to be an alicorn! Like, my wings itch. Is that normal? Are wings supposed to itch? Is there something wrong with them? What if they don’t stop itching? Is the itching just a harmless side-effect of spontaneous limb generation like phantom limb pain is for amputations? What if it’s normal for pegasi but not for alicorns and I go to Rainbow Dash or Fluttershy for help and they say ‘oh, there’s nothing wrong with you’ and there is something wrong with me but they don’t know that because it’s normal for them and I-”
C-cr-rack.
I wince at the sound of a book’s spine breaking and whirl on Spike. He’s guiltily holding a brand-new third edition of Advanced Transformative Magic and opening it way too far. “Sorry,” he whispers, gently setting the book down, “but you need to calm down. Take a few deep breaths. Just- stop freaking out.”
Okay. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. “I know, Spike, but-” Deep breath in. Deep breath out. “-I am really overwhelmed by this. I’m all of a sudden in a position of power, I just grew wings, my back is aching a little from their added weight…” I look down at my hooves. “…and I swear I’ve already grown an inch or two. How am I supposed to react?”
“Erng…” Spike kneads his claws together. “Well, I… I dunno. You could-”
The doorbell rings. Glad of something to take my mind off this, I scurry to the door; the unfamiliar feeling of the wind across my wings makes me shiver. I hope it’s one of my friends; I don’t want to have to explain this just yet.
But, as if to aggravate my feelings all the more, Princess Celestia’s the one standing there when I open the door. My heart catches in my throat. I’m almost royalty now, so what do I do? Do I bow? Do I not bow? Is there some royalty-exclusive thing I need to do that I’ve never heard of? I try to split the difference and end up twitching for a second, probably looking like some kind of broken bobblehead. “Hello, Princess,” I squeak. “Come in.” I step aside.
Celestia ducks a little so her horn doesn’t catch on the lintel. “Twilight. Spike,” she says, nodding to us.
“Um, uh, hey, Princess,” said Spike. At least he doesn’t have problems with whether or not he needs to bow; he just goes and does it.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” Celestia says to me, “but I would like to take a moment to speak with you.”
“Um, I…” My brain’s still nearing rainboom speeds. I have to force it to slow down and talk with her. “Yeah, I’ve got the time.”
Spike conjures a distraction to give us privacy. “I’mgonnagomaketeanowokaybye!” And he’s gone.
Celestia and I are left looking at each other. I rub one hoof against the other. I swallow. What, exactly, am I supposed to say?
Eventually, Celestia clears her throat. “When you became a princess, I imagine it was a bit of a shock, particularly with no warning.”
I click my teeth together and nod, almost guiltily. I can’t let her know how stressed her actions have made me. She can probably guess, but it’s the principle of the matter.
“So, now that you’ve had some time to think it over, do you want to stay one?”
Something about that doesn’t seem right, even though I don’t know why. I flick an ear and cock my head. “Huh?”
“Are you okay with becoming a princess?” Celestia asks again. “Or would you prefer to go back to the way you were?” Her voice is infinitely patient, not pushing me one way or the other.
“You’re giving me a choice in the matter?” I feel like if I say “oh, heck no, make me back into a unicorn”, I’m letting her down somehow. She planned this. She’s been planning it for… I don’t know how long. Ever since I got my cutie mark? That’s almost two decades. And to throw it all away just because I didn’t want it seems wrong. I can’t let her down; she’s Princess Celestia.
But what if I truly don’t want it?
Celestia tilts her head slightly. “Why would you think I wouldn’t? This isn’t something you or I should take lightly.”
“Well, you…” I shuffle my hooves and look away. It feels strange, questioning Celestia like this. “You… kinda laid it on a bit thick back there.” She’s already thought this over thousands of times, surely. She knows what she’s doing. Right? “All that talk about… fulfilling my destiny. It didn’t really sound like I had a lot of options.”
“I never said what your destiny to be fulfilled was.”
I’m caught by surprise when my wings flare. “That’s a cop-out and you know it,” I snap.
I regret the words before I finish the sentence. Even if it’s true, there are better ways of saying that. Less harsh, less accusatory ways. It doesn’t feel like I’m questioning her, it feels like I’m attacking her. Whether she’s right or wrong, I can still be civil with her. She’s a princess. She is (was? The thought still feels strange) my mentor.
But Celestia doesn’t notice and lets it pass. “I suppose it might be,” she says, inclining her head. “But how would you have reacted if I had asked you beforehoof?”
“I… I don’t know,” I mumble. I ruffle my mane, look down, and fold my ears back. “I… probably would’ve panicked and said ‘no’ out of pure reflex. Never thought about it again, maybe.” It was just so big. I don’t think I ever would’ve really considered it, even with prodding from Celestia. Looked at the idea, yes, done a bit of speculating, yes, but only in a distant “this is the dream I know I’ll never have but I like to think about” sort of way.
“Precisely,” says Celestia. “When you set out on a new journey in your life, the first step is always the hardest. Sometimes, that step can seem impossible and you need a push.”
“That’s one way to put it,” I say. I don’t look up. A push I need or not, it’s a very demanding push, a push down a cliff I’ll never be able to climb back up. She’s made me an alicorn; how easy is that to take back? What if I say “no” and I’m left looking with this as a remin-
“Twilight.”
I look up.
Celestia is looking at me in a way I’ve never seen before. I can’t describe it. It’s softer. It’s less distant. If there was a glass wall between us, it’s gone now. But for a few moments, I can’t put my hoof on why. And then I realize: she’s taken her crown off; her symbol of authority is sitting at her hooves, apparently forgotten. Right now, she’s not Princess Celestia. She’s just Celestia, just a pony. Just like me.
“Twilight,” Celestia says, “if you choose not to be a princess, I will not be disappointed in you. I admit I may be piling too much on you all at once, and if that’s case, I apologize. The fault would lie in my own judgment, not in you.”
“But you’ve ruled Equestria for thousands of years. Your judgment can’t be that bad, can it?” It’s probably this point, in particular, that I can’t just shake off. I keep coming back to it over and over, thinking she knows best and I should just go and be a princess. Although it’s hard to keep thinking that when she doesn’t have her crown. I’ve never seen her without her crown.
“I know this might surprise you,” Celestia says with an iota of wryness, “but even I can make mistakes from time to time. If I am making a mistake now, I would rather you go against my wishes and be honest with me than do what I want and be miserable for it.” She flexes her wings, as if she’s somehow uncomfortable. “I’ve watched you for a long time, Twilight. I’ve read every single one of your letters and those of your friends. I’ve seen how much you’ve grown, and I think you’re capable of it. But I don’t know everything about you. Do you think you’re capable of it?”
I look at her for a few more moments. I should probably say something, but nothing comes to mind. Then I start pacing and thinking.
Why choose me, of all ponies, to be the Princess of Friendship? Yes, I’m one of the Elements of Harmony. Yes, I’ve formed strong bonds with my friends here in Ponyville. But if I’m being honest with myself, that’s not all that much. I still don’t interact a lot with other ponies outside of Spike and the girls. I still spend a lot of time reading alone; it’s just that now, I don’t care as much if I’m interrupted.
I still have problems in social situations. I still find it hard to just walk up to somepony new and start talking to them. Heck, sometimes I have trouble relating to the other girls. I know that they don’t like hearing about, say, some of the statistics that make Ponyville a very unusual place, but whenever I have a chance to bring them up — such as the time last week I was able to compare how well the Apples were growing apple trees compared to other apple farms — I keep forgetting that. I get excited and I keep going on about them and somepony else needs to pull me back to reality.
Yet, at the same time… why not me? How many ponies have been in my position: a self-absorbed loner who found out how friendship was so much more than just ponies sticking their noses into your business? I’ve seen the benefits of it firsthoof, benefits a pony who’s had friends from day one would take for granted. I’ve never been one to suffer from loneliness, but now I know who having a friend around brightens up the day just a little bit more. It doesn’t need to be all that much; just somepony to talk to is enough.
I’ve gone from having a single strong friendship to having six, and I’ve been keeping track of them every step of the way. I’m not all the way there, but so what? I can keep going forward. I don’t think I could go backward if I tried. My friends are too much a part of me now. It’s easier to keep going when I know they’re right there with me.
I’m not who I ought to be. But I’m not who I used to be. I am what I am.
And I think that’s enough.
I stop pacing. “I’ll do it,” I say. “I’ll be the Princess of Friendship. I think I can handle it. And if not… I’ve got my friends. We’ve handled insane alicorns, the spirit of chaos, armies of changelings, megalomaniacal shadow dictators, and the Grand Galloping Gala together; we can handle this together.”
Celestia smiles and bows her head. “Thank you, Twilight.” She puts her crown back on. “I know you’ll be an excellent example for all of Equestria.”
I try to grin. It comes better than I expected, but not as good as I wanted. Decision made or not, there’s a long way to go. “I sure hope so.”
Spike clears his throat and leans around the doorframe. “Does this mean I can come in now?” He holds up a tray with three steaming teacups. “I have tea. It’s peach.”
“Do you want to stay?” I ask. “We could talk a little about… everything that’s coming.”
“Peach tea sounds lovely,” says Celestia, taking a cup. “And, yes, there are some details that I could use your input on.” She takes a sip. “Mmm. Wonderful tea, Spike.”
Spike just smiles and bows.
“Thank you.” I retrieve my own cup and sip. “So, when’s the coronation going to-”
“Hey, Twilight?” asks Spike. “If you’re gonna be a princess, do you think you could get some extra help around here?”
I look over my cup at him and frown. “Spike, if you think I’ll hire servants so you’ll be able to lay around all day, every day…”
“I don’t want every day off. Just the ones that end in ‘y’.”
I chuckle. So does Celestia. The more things change, the more they stay the same.