The cookie was gone. Starlight Glimmer frowned at the vast emptiness in her private cookie jar—where as she was absolutely certain just one last triple-choc pecan cookie had been resting in all its glory, waiting to be devoured by her.
And now it was gone.
Starlight frowned at the empty cookie jar as if she could will the missing cookie back into existence, but of course that didn’t work. Because it didn’t exist anymore. Because somepony ate it.
Wondering who could have committed such a heinous crime she put the cookie jar back on her desk. She was confident that Twilight would never do such a thing, and Spike, even though he definitely enjoyed his sweets, would probably not just enter her room—for his young age he was surprisingly respectful.
Trixie, maybe? Her fillyfriend was the only pony who even came into her room, but they had spent the last two nights in Trixie’s cart, which she had set up in the castle’s front yard.
She probably couldn’t rule out the possibility that she had eaten it herself, and then forgotten about it. Although she was usually very good at remembering details. Especially cookie-related details.
Starlight sighed. It wasn’t that big a deal, really. All she needed to do was to go to Sugarcube Corner and get another one.
Maybe after her reading assignment. She sighed again.
She’d get a whole bag of cookies as a reward for her diligent studying.
But first, tea. It was one of those many little habits she had picked up from Twilight—reading just went better with a nice hot cup of tea. Twilight, adorkable as ever, had even shown Starlight statistics detailling how much more information she retained depending on what kind of tea she drank while reading.
Starlight left her room and made way to the castle’s kitchen. Down there, she found Spike, who was busying himself with a big bowl of dough. “Good morning, Spike! What are you baking?”
“Just some cookies,” Spike replied. “Just come back in an hour or so if you want some.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And better don’t be too late, or else there won’t be any left, courtesy of a certain princess.”
Starlight chuckled. “Thanks, I’ll try to remember.” She hesitated. Should she really suspect Spike like this? Pushing her doubts aside, she nonchalantly continued, “I’ve had quite the cookie incident this morning, actually. I was sure I had a triple-choc pecan cookie left in my cookie jar, but apparently I was wrong.” She closely watched Spike’s expression as he replied. Just to be sure.
Spike gave her a sympathetic grin. “Oh wow, that’s just the worst, isn’t it? You’re so looking forward to that cookie and then it’s gone and—why are you looking at me like this?”
“Um—“
“Starlight, you don’t actually think I took your cookie, do you?” When Starlight just kept looking at Spike, the young dragon huffed and continued, “Just so you know, I’m allergic to pecan. It makes my spikes turn orange, and that’s just not a pretty sight. Besides I’d never sneak into your room where you sometimes have your lace stockings lying around and—“ His expression fell. “Um, I mean, invade your privacy. Is what. I’d never do. Can we, um—“
Starlight glared at him for several seconds. Then she sighed and pressed her hoof against her forehead, trying to focus on the important part—that at least Spike hadn’t taken her cookie. “This conversation never happened,” she said. “And if you ever sneak into my room and so much as look at my stockings I’m going to turn you into sludge. Orange sludge. Are we clear?”
Spike swallowed hard and nodded. Then, forcing himself to smile, he said, “So, remember, cookies will be done in an hour! I’ll make sure to keep some safe for you, because we’re such good friends, right?”
“Thanks, Spike.” Starlight turned to the cupboard for a tea cup, refusing to think about the implications of what Spike had just revealed. If she didn’t think about it, it wasn’t true, she kept telling herself.
At least there would be cookies.
With only an hour until cookie time she made haste to prepare her tea, impatiently using her magic to fan the stove’s fire. Hovering the tea cup next to her she hurried back upstairs to her room where her current reading assignment, The psychology of sharing, was waiting for her. Sometimes, Starlight mused, the thoroughly academic approach of her mentor was a bit too much for her liking. Then again, she wasn’t about to disappoint Twilight, not after all she had done for her.
Back in her room she placed the cup on her desk, sat down in her chair, and reached for the book—only that the book wasn’t there. Starlight looked around, just to make sure, but it wasn’t anywhere, not on the shelf, not on her nightstand, not even—a remote possibility since sometimes she fell asleep over her reading—in her bed hidden under the blanket.
Had she maybe taken the book elsewhere, maybe to read in the calm and inspiring environment of the library, and then left it there? Again, she didn’t remember doing any such thing, but since the book was definitely not here she couldn’t rule it out.
Still, this sudden drop in her cognitive abilities was at least slightly alarming. While she was nowhere near as organized as Twilight, she didn’t usually forget where she had left her things. Or that she had eaten a cookie, for that matter.
With a sigh she left her room and trotted downstairs again, this time heading for the library—a pretty reasonable place to search for a book, she thought.
When she entered the library she wasn’t surprised to find Twilight sitting in her second-favorite reading sofa and casually levitating three different tomes in front of her face. The princess lowered a tome to peek over it and smiled at her. “Hello, Starlight Glimmer! Are you going to join me for some light reading?”
Glimpsing at the titles of Twilight’s books—something about quantum physics and chocolate milk—Starlight grinned. “Light reading, sure. No, I’m looking for a book.”
“Well, the library is definitely the right place for that,” Twilight said and chuckled at her witty remark. Starlight grinned—and fought the urge to facehoof.
“Actually, I think I’ve left The psychology of sharing somewhere, and I thought it might be here.”
“Oh.” Twilight looked surprised. “I thought you’d finished that.”
“Not that I remember…” Starlight said.
“Let’s see.” Without dropping her three tomes Twilight levitated forth a scroll from somewhere behind the sofa. “Hmm, it’s checked off in the lending list, so you must have returned it.”
“But I didn’t…”
Another scroll floated forth, and for a moment Twilight looked like a filly’s school project of an atomic model, only with tomes and scrolls circling her instead of electrons. “According to the assignment list you finished reading it, and we had the scheduled seventeen-minute discussion about it.” She beamed at Starlight. “You have finished your assignment! Good job, just in case I never told you that.”
“But I haven’t!” Starlight replied more forcefully.
“Yes you have,” Twilight replied, her radiant smile remaining in place. “It says so on the list.”
“But if I have done it how come I don’t remember anything?”
Twilight frowned. “That would mean we need to revisit your studying techniques to ensure you actually memorize the contents of the books you read. Maybe you need a different kind of tea to—“
“No, no, that’s not it!” Starlight interrupted her, growing more and more irritated by her mentor’s unflinching failure to understand her. “I don’t remember reading the book, or returning it, or discussing it with you, at all! I’m absolutely certain that never happened!”
“But the list—“ Twilight’s ears drooped, and it looked like her lip started to quiver.
“Twilight,” Starlight interrupted her before she could dive into a full-blown spiral of self-doubt, “do you remember discussing the book?”
“Of course I—“ Twilight blinked twice and stared at her with wide eyes, the books and scrolls still levitating around her head like an aura of literature. “I don’t, do I?”
“Because we never did it!”
“But the list—“
“We never did it!”
“But the list!”
“Screw the list!”
Twilight sharply inhaled in shock, and the books and scrolls fell out of mid-air and onto the sofa as she lost control of her levitation spell. “Starlight Glimmer, that’s uncalled for! Take that back!”
“Twilight, don’t you think—“
“Please take it back, Starlight,” Twilight softly requested.
“But—“ Seeing the uncompromising expression on Twilight’s face, Starlight decided that giving in would be the wiser course of action if she actually wanted to get through to her. “I’m sorry I said that. The list is great!” Twilight huffed, and Starlight hurried to continue, “But don’t you think something is off here? The list claims we’ve had a discussion about a book that we both don’t remember at all?”
“Then maybe we’re not remembering it correctly? Maybe our memories…”
Twilight trailed off, and suddenly a terrible suspicion struck Starlight. The book. The discussion. The cookie! “Maybe our memories have been erased!” she blurted out
“An oblivion spell?” Twilight said. “That’s some advanced and dangerous magic! Why should anypony cast such a spell on both of us? And who would even be able to?”
Starlight’s mind raced. She knew Twilight well enough by now to know how to deliver the final blow. “So far it is the only hypothesis that explains everything that has happened—the book, and the triple-choc pecan cookie as well. I think we really have no choice but to at least consider it.”
“What does a cookie have to do with anything?” Twilight asked, confused.
Again Starlight fought the urge to facehoof. Way to blow her final blow! Instead she quickly explained the mystery of the disappeared cookie. “And if you take all that into account, the only possible explanations are that either the list is wrong, which, as you said, is preposterous—or an oblivion spell.”
Twilight rubbed her chin. “I have to say, it would be a possible explanation.”
“So let’s do something about it! There has to be an un-oblivion spell, right?”
“But that’s very powerful and dangerous magic!” Twilight objected.
Starlight wasn’t going to let her plan of action be spoiled by worries about supposed dangers. “But isn’t it like this,” she said, “either we have been subjected to an oblivion spell—in that case we must learn why, how, and by whom! Or we haven’t, in which case the spell won’t affect us at all, since we haven’t forgotten anything in the first place.”
“You’re raising a valid point,” Twilight was forced to admit. “I’m not too happy about the possibility of somepony casting that kind of spell on us. So, in this case…”
“Thought so,” Starlight said and cast a spell. A tome launched itself from its place on a high-up shelf and came darting through the room, aiming right for Twilight’s head. Starlight yelped and leapt at the princess, pinning her onto the sofa just in time as the tome zoomed over both their heads. Twilight looked at her in surprise and blushed slightly, which Starlight found unexpected—at least until she realized her position, lying on top of Twilight, their snouts almost touching.
“Um, Starlight—?”
“Sorry!” Starlight hurried to get off the princess and picked up the book she had so recklessly summoned.
“What was that?” Twilight asked, sitting up.
“A book browsing and retrieval spell I made up. Honestly, Dewey Decimal is a spawn of Tartarus!” Starlight replied absentmindedly while leafing through the book. “Aha! There! Forgall, a spell to make the target forget everything during the timespan specified by the parameters. And here, Remembrall. Restores magically erased memories for the timespan specified by the parameters. Looks like exactly what we need.”
“Starlight, shouldn’t we at least—“
Starlight cast the spell on herself without waiting to hear any further objections. The beam of magic arced back from her horn and hit her right in the forehead. The library, the sofa, and Twilight faded out of existence as she relived her lost memories in a rapid succession of images. The memories spanned the entirety of the previous day, but when she came to again, Starlight was aware that only a short period of time had passed, probably not even five minutes. Twilight’s face was right in front of hers, her expression full of worry at her sudden blackout, and Starlight hurried to say something to assert her that everything was okay.
“Oh fiddlesticks!”
“Starlight?” She felt Twilight’s hooves steadying her; apparently she had also dropped to the floor when the spell had hit her. “Starlight, are you alright?”
“Fiddlesticks, fiddlesticks, fiddlesticks!”
“Starlight, talk to me!” Twilight nuzzled Starlight’s cheek, and Starlight hastily backed away from the contact. She looked at Twilight, very aware of the princess’ physical closeness—painfully aware, even.
There was no way she would be able to deal with this. Not alone, at least. Probably not at all. Perhaps the only solution was for her to explode into a shower of colorful sparks and—
Starlight bit her tongue to stop the approaching panic attack, and took a deep breath. If she was going to get through this, she needed Twilight’s support, and for that, Twilight too needed to remember. “I’m sorry, Twilight,” she whispered, and cast the spell on her.
As the magic hit her head, the princess fell back and collapsed on the floor. It didn’t even take her half a minute to regain her consciousness, and when she stared at Starlight this time, her eyes were wide with terror.
“Oh fiddlesticks indeed,” she agreed in a shaky voice.
It felt like an eternity or two had passed. Starlight and Twilight were lying on the library floor, staring at each other in shock. Despite Starlight’s best efforts she let her gaze wander over Twilight’s body as the magically removed memories washed over her.
I can’t believe we did this.
Her horn…
Resolutely she pushed that particular thought away, cursing the heat that rose on her cheeks.
“You… we…” Twilight stammered. Starlight just looked at her with a blank expression, and after a few more awkward moments—during which she had to muster up all her willpower in order to suppress most of the memories from last night—Twilight finally had collected herself enough to form a coherent sentence. “You cast the Forgall spell.”
“Yep.”
“And we…”
“Don’t,” Starlight said softly when she realized the level of Twilight’s distress. “I’m sorry I made you go through this again. I kinda panicked when I remembered… and I cast the spell so I didn’t have to deal with everything alone.
“We shouldn’t have to deal with that at all. I’m sorry. I’m just gonna cast the Forgall spell again on us and make it go away, okay?”
“And what about Trixie?”
“She doesn’t have to know,” Starlight flatly replied.
“You want to lie to her? On top of—“
“Yes, Twi, I want to lie on top of her, that’s the whole point!” Starlight burst out.
For a moment Twilight looked at her uncomprehendingly, then she facehoofed and shook her head. “That’s not what I mean! I meant…”
Starlight groaned. “I know what you mean. I’m just trying to ignore it, okay?”
“You can’t ignore it! We can’t ignore it!”
“Yes, of course we can!” Starlight snapped. “Trixie wasn’t even in Ponyville anymore when… you know. The two of us are the only ponies who know, and with this,” she lifted up the spellbook in her magic, “with this we have the means to make sure that nopony knows, and then we can in fact ignore it! Forever!”
“That’s exactly what you said yesterday,” Twilight deadpanned.
“Yeah, and this time I’ll remember to not get suspicious about something that doesn’t line up about the past, and I’ll…” With a frustrated groan she buried her face in her hooves. She remembered the panicked conversation she and Twilight had had in the small hours of the night before just as well as the princess did.
Twilight had a point. There was no way she could make herself—and Twilight too, for that matter—forget everything whilst making sure that they remembered not to get suspicious. It was really unfair! It had been such a good idea! Especially since it meant that she didn’t remember all the terrible things they had done… terrible, wonderful, ecstatic things…
Resolutely she pushed the thought away.
“Starlight,” Twilight whispered, putting her hoof over her withers. “It’s going to be okay, I—whoa!”
In a flash of turquoise light Starlight vanished and reappeared in a nearby recliner, leaving a startled Twilight behind on the floor. “Twi, I appreciate the gesture, but that’s really not helping right now!”
“… I guess not…”
Starlight let out another exaggerated groan. “What in Tartarus am I supposed to do?” She didn’t add the other question that was going through her head: how was she going to live with what she had done? How she had betrayed Trixie?
“You tell her,” Twilight said from her position on the floor.
“I think I’ll pass,” Starlight replied. “Any other ideas?”
“You know,” Twilight said, sounding irritated, “it’s not like I’m really excited to have this talk with Trixie, but she’s your fillyfriend, and she’s my friend too, and I think we owe it to her to be upfront about what happened.”
“Me being the scum of Equestria, you mean.”
“Starlight, could you drop the self-depreciation for a moment and discuss this rationally?” Twilight said. “Sulking isn’t going to fix anything!”
“And how exactly is telling Trixie and causing her all this hurt going to help?”
“At least it’s honest,” Twilight said.
“Great,” Starlight groaned.
“What’s the alternative, in your opinion?”
“The rational thing,” Starlight shot back. “Keep it all bottled up forever, eventually forget it ever happened, and spare Trixie the news that I’m awful, so that we can live happily ever after. What else?”
“Do you think that will work? Based on past experiences?” Twilight asked. Starlight could actually hear her raised eyebrow.
“Do you think you can cut the snark?” Starlight snapped.
“I’m trying to help you!” Twilight shouted.
“And I’m trying to forget everything that has happened!”
“And how is that working out for you?”
“Just great, except for the part where it’s not working because I suck at magic! Augh!” Starlight teleported onto the sofa Twilight had been reading on—which incidentally wasn’t the one where everything had happened the night before—and buried her face in the cushions. “I can’t tell her! She’d hate my guts! And rightfully so…”
“She deserves to know the truth,” Twilight said. “We both messed up, and the right thing to do is to confess and ask her for forgiveness. Or deal with it if she tells us to buck off.”
“Which she will,” Starlight whined. “Which she absolutely should!” She sat up and faced Twilight who was still lying on the floor. “And what do you mean, we? I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m the one who cheated on my fillyfriend, not you.”
“But I’m at fault here too! I was in on it!”
Actually…
“It’s not your relationship that’s on the line!”
“So you rather want to keep it a secret forever—or rather, for as long as it takes for her to find out somehow?” Twilight asked. She caught Starlight’s gaze who saw the honest worry in Twilight’s eyes, and her affection. Even though she didn’t like what Twilight was saying—the princess was genuinely trying her best to help her. “I know it sucks, and I’m so sorry that you have to go through this, but it really is the right thing to do. Or rather, the only thing to do.”
Starlight swallowed down the lump in her throat. Deep down inside she knew that Twilight was right, and that she was honestly trying to help her do the right thing. Of course she didn’t look forward to confessing to Trixie—and facing her inevitable reaction.
“Is that to be considered official princessly advice?” Starlight asked. Twilight nodded. “You’re really annoying when you’re right,” she mumbled, admitting defeat.
Twilight lowered her voice and said, “I bet I can atone for that.” When Starlight flinched back from her, she hastily asked, “Too soon?”
“Yes! Way too soon! Gosh!”
“Sorry,” Twilight said sheepishly. “Just trying to brighten up the mood.”
“Please don’t.” Starlight idly poked her hoof at the sofa cushions. “I… should probably get it over with, right? She’s got a bit of a head start on me.”
Twilight jumped to her hooves. “No. We should get it over with.”
“It was me who betrayed mmpf!”
Twilight covered Starlight’s mouth with her hoof. “She’s my friend, so I wronged her too. I would rather tell her myself. Okay?” Starlight nodded against her hoof, fighting back certain memories of that very hoof’s touch.
“Okay, let’s go then!” Twilight freed Starlight’s mouth and offered her hoof to help her get up from the sofa. Starlight accepted and allowed her mentor to pull her to her hooves.
“Twilight?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m scared out of my mind.”
Twilight considered this for a moment. Then, in a measured voice, she replied, “I can say with almost absolute certainty that I too am scared out of my mind.”
At least Starlight had a pretty good idea where to find Trixie—after all, she had told Starlight of her planned tour in great detail. She was heading for Little Trottington on her way to Rainbow Falls, from where she would either return to Ponyville right away, or take a detour to Rockville and the surrounding villages.
She couldn’t have gotten too far the night before, as she had left not too long before sunset. She probably hadn’t even crossed the Everfree Forest yet. With her cart slowing her down Starlight and Twilight would be able to catch up.
“Let’s hurry,” Starlight said. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“I guess I could carry you—“
Starlight just stared at her. Several images from last night flashed before her mind’s eye, none of them making her even consider getting near Twilight’s sensitive wings, let alone riding on her… back. “Or I could just use my magic,” she said with a shaky voice. “Let’s go.” Without looking back at Twilight she cast her spell and, engulfed in the glow of her magic, she took off and sped down the road. The princess took off too and flew behind her.
The sun was shining brightly as Starlight flew along, towards the distant green wall that marked the edge of Everfree Forest. It would be a few hours before they would catch up, even considering the slower speed of a single mare pulling a cart. At least with Twilight flying behind her, she didn’t constantly feel reminded of last night.
And with that distraction out of the way, her mind could turn to the question she really hadn’t wanted to think about—but when they got to Trixie, she knew she’d need a good answer. At least if she was going to salvage her relationship at all.
What in Tartarus was I thinking?
Her thoughts turned to last night. Before she had ended up on the library sofa with Twilight. Was that the reason she had slipped up? Their fight, and Trixie’s departure? Was that all?
Sure, there had been a few fights recently, and they never seemed to lead anywhere. But that was just a phase, right? Trixie and she just needed to figure out where they wanted to take their relationship, and considering their respective temperaments it wasn’t surprising that they clashed occasionally. Starlight’s sense of order versus Trixie’s… irresponsibility? Maybe relentless independence sounded more positive…
Starlight’s thoughts inadvertently turned back to last night. Not too long after their fight…
“I can’t believe it,” Starlight muttered to herself when she found Trixie’s spot in the castle’s front yard empty. She had actually left. Without even a word. Just up and left, after Starlight had begged her to stay. Or rather, had screamed at her that she positively had to stay and that she was sick of Trixie’s constant trips—which amounted to the same thing, really.
Starlight turned to the castle. She considered blasting a magic beam at the nearby trees, just because, but heroically reined herself in. Instead, she slammed open the castle doors and stormed through the main hallway. Absentmindedly she wiped some tears from her face. What was she crying for anyway?
Before she even reached the stairs, the main library’s door opened, and Twilight’s head peeked out. “Starlight Glimmer?” she asked. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Starlight growled. “Just brilliant!”
“Sure? You look… Starlight, are you crying?”
“No!” she snapped. “I’m not crying! I’m totally peachy! Everything is a-okay!” There was a flash of purple light, and then she found herself enveloped in a gentle hug. Despite herself and everything, Starlight smiled weakly. “Gee, Twilight, I told you I’m fine.”
“And I chose to not believe a word you said, silly filly,” Twilight murmured. She released Starlight and took a step back. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Not particularly.”
“Then how about you get comfy in the library while I make us some tea, and then we’ll talk about anything you want, and specifically not about what upset you?”
It was impossible to resist the worried smile Twilight was giving her, and yet she had to try. “Is that an assignment from my mentor?”
“I can make it one,” Twilight said. “If I have to.”
Starlight chuckled and wiped her eyes. “Alright.”
“I’ll be there in a bit,” Twilight reassured her as she hurried off to the kitchen.
Settling into the cushions of Twilight’s favorite reading sofa—which was objectively the best sofa in the library—Starlight tried to calm down a bit. It wasn’t like she and Trixie hadn’t had this discussion before, she told herself. And it sure wasn’t the first time things between the two headstrong mares had turned heated.
But before she could revisit the argument, Twilight returned with two steaming cups of tea. “I’ve been working on a quick-boil spell for a while, and I think I’ve figured it out!” Twilight beamed, floating a cup over to Starlight before settling down on the sofa next to her.
For a while they just sat in silence, each levitating her cup and occasionally taking a sip. Eventually Twilight asked, “So, do you want to talk about it?”
“… no.” Before she could elaborate, she found herself wrapped in a soft purple wing and gently pulled in. With an exhausted sigh she leaned against Twilight’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth of the hug. She felt like she could finally relax and get some rest. Just let Twilight hold her for a bit, while she collected herself. “Thanks.”
“Was it the usual?” Twilight asked, her voice full of sympathy. Starlight felt a lump in her throat and nodded, just to be safe. It was as if Twilight could see right through her. Of course she knew of the troubles she and Trixie had been having, and she had always offered kindness and advice to Starlight. And not once had she said I told you so. “I’m so sorry, Starlight,” Twilight whispered and gently stroked her side with her wingtip.
“I can’t believe she ran off again,” Starlight muttered. “What’s the point of even having a fillyfriend if she’s never around? I mean, it’s safer for the castle, I guess, but… why can’t she just turn everything into teacups here?”
Twilight just continued to stroke her, not saying anything. Letting her process everything at her own speed. “It’s like she doesn’t even care how I feel.” She was welling up again, but this time it was alright. Twilight wasn’t going to think any less of her.
“I’m… very certain she does care.”
“Then why did she have to go? Why can’t she be here with me, the way you are?” Starlight huffed. She felt a few tears on her cheeks. Twilight didn’t reply and instead nuzzled her cheek.
Why couldn’t she feel this safe and taken care of more often?
At which point things had escalated very quickly, away from comforting-a-friend territory to, well, other things. To cheating territory. And horn territory.
Was she really that pathetic that her only way of dealing with an argument was to… do all these things with another mare? With Twilight? Was she really that big a jerk?
So she had been upset about the fight and Trixie’s departure, and Twilight had comforted her. But that was still no reason at all to start making out and end up… well. Comforting one another was what friends did. It was perfectly normal. Make-outs and worse were not.
On top of that, the fight hadn’t even been a new one. Or a big deal, either. Starlight had simply tried—again—to have a calm discussion about their living arrangements, maybe mentioning the cute cottage she had had her eye on for a while now. But before she could even get there Trixie surprised her with plans to go on yet another magic tour. To the south. The day after tomorrow, probably.
And then Starlight had just lost it. They had had discussions about the frequent tours, and Starlight had tried her best to convey to Trixie that she wanted her to stay in Ponyville for more than just a few days, and she just couldn’t believe that Trixie was pulling this kind of stunt again. That she was running off once more without even considering how Starlight felt about it. That she needed her independence.
What about my needs?I needed her to be around. Starlight hung her head, trying to not give into the anger that was still festering somewhere underneath the surface. Now was not the time.
Just when did everything become so difficult? she wondered.
But—had it really ever been any different? Even in their early days, when they had just become friends, there had been… incidents. The bottled up anger, for instance. Or Trixie’s behavior during Sunburst’s visit. And many other instances of unprovoked magical explosions or just plain old sticking her hoof in her mouth and saying or doing something stupid.
And yet, when they had started dating, nothing of this had seemed to matter anymore. She had loved Trixie’s unconventional ways. How she always challenged her. How independent she was.
Independent, my flank! Try selfish and irresponsible for a change!
But whatever she called it, it didn’t change how much she loved Trixie for just being her. For being irresponsible and sometimes not giving a darn about what anypony was thinking. For being reckless and a general safety hazard. For teaching Starlight to ease up a little now and then, and not freak out about all the vagaries that life with Trixie brought.
And for sometimes being so amazingly cute and vulnerable, when the two of them were alone…
“I can’t believe I did this to her,” she murmured to herself. “She deserves so much better.” She shook her head. “She’ll hate my guts, and rightfully so.”
“You don’t know that,” Twilight said from behind her.
“Yeah I do. I betrayed her trust, and she’s gonna hate me for it,” Starlight said glumly.
“And what makes you so sure? We made a terrible mistake, sure, but have you ever considered that she might actually want to salvage your relationship as much as you do? We’ll make sure this never happens again, and then—”
“I,” Starlight softly interrupted her.
“Huh?”
“I. It was I who cheated, not you, and I’ll make sure it never happens again. If she doesn’t send me packing right away, that is.”
“It takes two ponies,” Twilight disagreed. “You couldn’t have… done it without me.”
Starlight turned to have a look at Twilight. The princess looked almost as sullen as she did, staring down at her hooves. Starlight shook her head—she wasn’t going to allow Twilight to take the blame. Her relationship—her fault.
“Stop it, Twilight,” she said. “You know how things were between me and Trixie—“
“Are,” Twilight interrupted her. “Things are between you and Trixie.”
Starlight shrugged. “Fine, whatever. But you know the state of affairs. The arguments. Her irresponsibility. We just haven’t been doing great. I mean, let’s face it—it was probably just a matter of time. And opportunity.”
“So in other words, anypony would have sufficed,” Twilight murmured.
“I guess.” Starlight shrugged. “We should probably turn it up a notch. The anticipation is killing me.”
They travelled on. Before long they entered the green gloomy twilight of the Everfree Forest.
It was still not exactly a safe place, but after the Tree of Harmony had been restored the situation had gradually gotten better. There were still Timberwolves and all other kinds of dangerous critters, but during the day and staying on the main roads it was feasible to travel. They had made good progress, and by Starlight’s estimate they would catch up with Trixie shortly after passing the ruined Castle of the Two Sisters.
Twilight hadn’t spoken again for a while now, and so Starlight was free to brood over the previous day to her heart’s content. Or rather, as she told herself, revisit the case she was going to make once they caught up with Trixie.
What it came down to was, I was lonely and frustrated.
And then Twilight just happened to be there? Starlight sneaked a glance over her shoulder, back at Twilight, who was fluttering a few yards behind her.
If she was going to be honest with herself, Starlight had to admit that she still found Twilight hot. Just because she had eventually gotten over her crush—with generous help from Trixie—didn’t mean she had stopped finding her attractive. Those long, slender legs; the bright, curious eyes; the majestic wings; her powerful, powerful horn…
Starlight blushed, her mind inevitably returning to last night, and she tried to focus on something else. Anything else. Anything but the sensation of Twilight’s silky fur, and those things she had done with her tongue—
She pressed her hoof to her forehead. “That is not helping one bit!”
“Hmm?”
“Um, nothing!” There was no way she was going to discuss Twilight’s tongue tricks with her.
Not again.
Not even to beg her to show her how to do that…
Maybe in the unlikely case everything turned out well, to make it up to Trixie…
She shook her head. Not now!
What mattered was still what she was going to tell Trixie. Somehow Starlight assumed that mentioning her past crush on Twilight wouldn’t really help her case. If anything, Trixie would be even angrier.
Not that it mattered. Whatever her feelings for Twilight had been after moving to Ponyville—her feelings for her mentor, to be precise; for the Princess of Friendship no less—it had nothing to do with last night. It had been… an opportunity. At that rate, as Twilight had said earlier, probably anypony would have done.
Done it, she couldn’t help thinking.
And even if she had somehow acted on her long-gone crush on Twilight when she had kissed her back—and then her front—that didn’t change anything, she resolutely told herself. It may have been some delayed wish-fulfillment, but cheating was cheating, and that was that.
And what was she going to tell Trixie again?
“We’re getting close to the castle,” Twilight said. “The canopy isn’t that dense in this part. I’m going to fly up and see if I can spot her.”
“Yeah.”
With a few flaps of her wings Twilight gained height. Starlight didn’t look up. Just to be safe.
Anypony would have sufficed, Twilight had said. Was that really the case? Would Starlight have allowed this to happen if it had been anypony else? Somepony she hadn’t used to be crazy about? Somepony who didn’t happen to be the first pony in decades to be her close friend without the use of mind control magic?
Well, ponyfeathers.
And speaking of which—
She was interrupted by Twilight calling out from high above, “I see her! Looks like she’s set up camp at the old crossroads behind the castle gardens.”
“How far?” she called back.
“I’d say twenty minutes, maybe less if we hurry.”
“Then let’s.” Without waiting for a reply Starlight propelled herself forward. She heard Twilight flapping, and soon the princess was flying next to her, no longer in her wake. She couldn’t help but look at her. “You okay?”
“I guess.”
“You know, considering that technically you made me do this, you look… unwell. We can still back out, you know.”
“You still want to back out?”
“No kidding, Princess.”
“Then why don’t you? Did my appeal to your honorable side actually get through to you? Or are you simply aware that the Forgall spell isn’t going to work?”
“The latter,” Starlight immediately replied. If she knew a way to fix this situation without talking to Trixie, like casting a nice spell instead perhaps, she wouldn’t be here. And she’d definitely prefer that.
That spell would open certain princess-related possibilities, too.
She tore her eyes open and shook her head. Where had that come from? What a terrible thought!
If Trixie is being unreasonable and doesn’t kick my flank for what I did, I’ll have to do it myself!
Then they turned around a long bend and saw Trixie’s cart in a short distance, a campfire burning happily in front of it.
Time was up.
Trixie noticed them when they were about a hundred meters away. Surprised she stood up, a half-eaten sandwich dropping from her levitation magic. She made a few tentative steps towards the two ponies flying towards her, and when they were close enough, she greeted them warmly.
“What are you doing here?”
For a few seconds Starlight could just stare at Trixie. Maybe she should have started her planning with the first thing she’d say to Trixie, but as it was she just had no idea what to say.
Trixie finally broke the awkward silence. “If you’ve come to convince me to cancel my tour and come back to Ponyville, then forget it! Not even Princess Twilight will be able to sway the Great and Powerful Trixie, at least not today!”
“No, that’s…” Starlight trailed off.
“Starlight, just tell her,” Twilight urged her.
Starlight took a deep breath. “Trixie, there’s something I must tell you.” She noticed that her knees were shaking. She took another deep breath.
Then there was a flash of turquoise light.
“Starlight!” Twilight scolded. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t! I just can’t deal with this!” Starlight whined. She collapsed to the ground and buried her face in her hooves so she didn’t have to look at the magic bubble she had caught Trixie in. The puzzled expression frozen on the blue unicorn’s face would have been almost comical, had the circumstances been less messed up.
“Isn’t there anything you’ve learned about using powerful magic spells to avoid having to deal with friendship problems? As you may remember, this isn’t the first time this occurs, and I’m really wondering what else I, as your mentor, can do to make the lesson stick!”
Starlight shook her head to rid herself of the unwelcome thought. “It stuck! It really has stuck, I promise! Just this time… right now… I can’t, okay? I can’t confront her, not right now, in the middle of the forest, with you distracting me…”
“How in Equestria am I distracting you? I’m trying my best to help you focus on the task at hoof!”
“It’s not… I know you’re trying to help, but I… my thoughts… I keep thinking about last night, and having the… cornus delicti right in front of me is really not helping at all, if you know what I mean.”
“I think I might have a vague idea, yes,” Twilight murmured, blushing, and averted her gaze. “I am suffering from the same… affliction.” She nervously shuffled her hooves before adding “Cornus delictorum might be more accurate, actually. Because there were several instances…”
Starlight groaned. “Twilight, I really don’t care about the intricacies of Ancient Equestrian grammar right now!” She pressed her hoof against her forehead. “Whatever. I just never should’ve let you talk me into coming here.”
“I’m sorry I pushed you, Starlight. I thought it would be for the best.” Twilight hung her head.
“It wasn’t you damn fault!” Starlight cried out. “I came into your castle, and I had sex with you despite being with Trixie! None of this is your fault, so stop saying that, okay?”
"But it is!” Twilight shouted back. “I’m your mentor, for Celestia’s sake! I’m supposed to be responsible! I should never have gone along with it, because Starlight—I also had sex with you. And that makes it my fault as well!”
“Drop it already!” Starlight turned to Twilight and planted herself right in front of her, their snouts almost touching. “Stop it! I came to you, I cried into your coat, I kissed you, and I touched your—“
Twilight put her hoof on Starlight’s mouth to keep her from going into more unneeded detail. “But I went along. I didn’t have the fortitude to stop you because…”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. The fact of the matter is that I didn’t stop it and instead went along with it… several times… and that makes it my fault too.”
The pleading look in Twilight’s eyes was almost impossible to bear. Her mouth still covered by Twilight’s hoof, Starlight rolled her eyes, but finally nodded her agreement. Twilight sighed, looking relieved, and removed her hoof. “Still doesn’t change the fact that I’m not ready to confront Trixie.”
“It’s the right thing to do, you know,” Twilight murmured.
Starlight thought about that for a few seconds. Then she nodded again. “I know.”
“Then—“
“Just not now. I need some time to process this. I’m not ready!” She turned away from Twilight and began pacing. “I’m just not ready.”
Twilight followed her steps for a few moments, not saying anything. Then she asked, “So what are you going to do then?”
“I’ll tell her,” Starlight said. “Just not right now. Right now I’ll wish her good luck for her tour and tell her that I’ll be missing her and that I’ll be waiting for her to return. We’ll go back to Ponyville, and I’ll make use of the time to get myself sorted out. And when Trixie is back I’ll tell her. And hope she’ll forgive me.”
Twilight nodded solemnly. “Okay.” She cleared her throat. “If you need support I’ll be glad to… I’ll be there.”
Starlight smiled and shook her head. “Much appreciated, but I think I should probably keep my distance from you for a while. Distraction and all, you know?”
Twilight swallowed audibly. “Yeah,” she said, hanging her head. “I guess that makes sense.”
For a while they stood in front of each other, both mares hanging their heads and lost in their thoughts. Finally Twilight nodded towards Trixie, who was still suspended in the turquoise ball of magic. “You should probably release her.”
Starlight nodded and discarded the spell. Trixie stared at her, and she hurried to say, “Trixie, dear, so glad we caught up with you. I really just wanted to wish you good luck for your tour, and… yeah. I’m gonna miss you back in Ponyville, but I realize that you have to do this.”
Trixie glared daggers at her. “You do realize that your stupid bubble is not sound proof, right?”
Twilight and Starlight spoke in unison. “Oh fiddlesticks.”
Trixie faced them, her head lowered and her front legs apart, almost as if she was about to charge at them. Her wizard hat sitting cocked on her had somewhat ruined the threatening image. She was shaking.
“You… I… you… the Great and Powerful…” she stammered, trembling with fury.
Starlight rushed over to her and made to hug her in an attempt to calm her down, but before she reached Trixie she found the lower part of her body engulfed in an electric blue glow, holding her in place. “Trixie, I can explain,” she cried.
“What is there to explain?” Trixie shouted. “You’ve explained everything already! I’m not that stupid, you know!”
“Trixie, I don’t think you’re stupid. We both don’t!” Starlight looked over to Twilight who nodded emphatically.
“Oh, is that right? Thanks, that means a lot, coming from the two of you!” Trixie sat down on her haunches. She looked stunned. Shaking her head, she said, “I was an idiot though, wasn’t I. For trusting you.”
“Trixie, I know I messed up, and you’ve every right to be mad, but please, we can fix this! Let me re-earn your trust!” Starlight pleaded.
“Don’t bother!” Trixie cried. “I know perfectly well that you were just settling for me because you couldn’t have her!” She pointed an accusing hoof at Twilight. “Isn’t it right? Just like everypony else you fell for those shapely flanks. The kind, loving eyes. The strong yet sensitive wings. The powerful horn. And she’s a princess to boot!” She snorted. “Nopony could have expected you to settle for a washed-up second-rate showmare, and yet you did. At least that’s what you made me believe!”
Starlight looked at her in despair. Trixie had it all wrong! “That was before we met, Trixie! I was over her when things started and—“
Twilight inhaled sharply. She hadn’t known, Starlight realized. Awkward!
“I guess I should be grateful then,” Trixie snarled. “Hah! As if!”
“Trixie—“ Twilight began.
Trixie turned to Twilight, her gaze enough to silence the princess. “And you, dear Princess of Friendship. What are those aspects of the Magic of Friendship again that you and your friends like to go on and on and on about unless somepony stops you? Laughter? Like when you thought of the Great and Powerful Trixie, and how you had once more bested me?” Twilight winced.
“Loyalty? Honesty? Kindness?” Again Twilight winced at each word, as if she had been whipped. “Like when you stole my love from me?
“Generosity!” Trixie screamed, and Twilight flinched back. “Don’t make me laugh! You wanted her all to yourself from the day she and I met! That’s why you didn’t want us to become friends, and that’s why you jumped her horn the first opportunity you got and destroyed our relationship!”
Tears were running down Trixie’s cheeks; Starlight couldn’t tell if from anger or hurt, and at this point it didn’t even matter. Trixie was beside herself. And could she really blame her?
“That’s not true, Trixie,” Twilight murmured, hardly audible. “I didn’t want to keep her for myself. Not when you were becoming friends and I was skeptical. That was only later when—“ Starlight gasped, and Twilight turned to her, shocked at what she had just revealed. She bit her lip and stared at Starlight, her wide eyes pleading for forgiveness.
Trixie nodded grimly. “As I thought.” She levitated her hat off her head and gave a mock curtsy. “I bow before you, Princess Twilight Sparkle. You have truly defeated me, as was undoubtedly your plan from the beginning. And you even got me to believe you were my friend. Bravo! Very good showmareship, indeed!”
“Trixie, I am your friend!” Twilight said, her voice choked from the tears she was trying to hold back.
“My friend.” Trixie spoke the word slowly and carefully, as if sampling its flavor. With an innocent smile she continued, “And you’re Starlight’s friend, too. So, maybe, now that I’m in the market again, maybe you could treat the Great and Powerful Trixie to a friendly night, just like you did with Starlight? Isn’t that what friends do!” The last words she yelled at the top of her lungs.
What the hay? Starlight struggled against Trixie’s spell still holding her in place. She needed to get out! The magic budged, but didn’t break.
Twilight shrunk back. “Trixie, that’s not what friends… I mean…”
Trixie watched her squirm for a few seconds. Then she had enough. “Spare me! I hereby wash my hooves of both of you. Should I never see you again, it would still be too soon! Oh, worry none,” she added in a deceptively friendly voice. “I’ve learnt my lesson, and won’t pick up a new plan for revenge and world domination. I’m just a washed-up second-rate showmare, after all. You two really put me in my place.”
With a flick of her magic Trixie tossed a few items that were scattered around her campsite into her cart and slammed the door shut. Starlight could only watch, still under the effect of Trixie’s holding spell; Twilight looked on apathetically. “Farewell, traitors. You truly deserve each other.”
“Trixie!” Starlight yelled. She still couldn’t break free from the holding spell. Trixie chose to ignore her, and Starlight found herself out of options. But the spell was only preventing her from moving, not from using magic.
Her spell hit Trixie square in the back of her head, and she collapsed right next to her cart. Only now the holding spell vanished.
“Starlight?” Twilight asked, her voice shaky. “What did you do?”
“Forgall with a mild sedative,” Starlight replied, way more calmly than she felt. She was shaking.
“Starlight!” Twilight chided. “I thought we’d gone over this! This is not the right way to fix this!”
Starlight carefully engulfed Trixie’s limp body in her magic and sat her down leaning against the side of her cart. “There. She’ll think she fell asleep during her little stop.”
“Would you please stop ignoring my entirely reasonable objections!”
“I can’t deal with it!” Starlight cried out. “This… this can’t be right! Not like this!”
“But, moral considerations pushed aside—didn’t we also conclude that the Forgall spell doesn’t actually solve the problem at hoof?”
Starlight examined the scene around the cart. As far as she could tell nothing looked suspicious. “Let’s hurry, she won’t be out for much longer. Twenty minutes, maybe.” After one last look at her sleeping fillyfriend Starlight turned around and started walking back to where they had come from.
Twilight hurried to follow her. “Starlight! It isn’t going to work and—“
“The only ponies in Equestria who know about last night are you and me,” Starlight explained. She needed to remain calm so she wouldn’t start screaming and possibly tossing around space time continuum-altering magic spells. “I have zero inclination whatsoever to tell Trixie. Not again. So if you don’t tell her, she’ll never know. And, as a nice little bonus, if she does experience any inconsistencies we’ll be able to do something about it because we still remember.”
“That… sounds reasonable. But you also sounded reasonable last night!”
“Yes, you were right—erasing both our memories won’t work. We’ll just have the same result again and again. But we can do this! It’s the least we can do!” She was getting agitated, and she really didn’t want to. Annoyed she wiped a tear from her eye.
“So you’re going to keep lying to Trixie?” Twilight asked. There must have been something in Starlight’s expression that made her add, “Not judging! Just curious!”
Starlight huffed. “Yes. That’s what I will do. And I will make sure it never happens again, and make sure to be a model fillyfriend.” She wiped her eyes again.
Suddenly she found herself wrapped in a pair of hooves and a pair of wings. “I’m so sorry, Starlight.”
Starlight buried her face in Twilight’s coat. “Trixie shouldn’t have to deal with all this. She didn’t do anything wrong. And you saw how she reacted. She’s got some serious self-esteem issues.
“So I’ll deal with it for her. She deserves some slack. She doesn’t deserve… this. I’ll deal with it so that she can be as happy as she deserves.” She looked into Twilight’s eyes. “That’s why I’m deliberately ignoring a solid dozen of lessons learned about not using powerful magic to resolve friendship problems. I really hope you understand this.”
“I admit I hadn’t looked at it this way. I guess Forgall might be a feasible solution after all. This time.”
Starlight gave her a wan smile. “Thanks. That means a lot to me.” She sniffed. “I’ll need some help to get by, I think. I feel awful. It’d be even more awful if my favorite mentor was cross with me.”
“Not at all,” Twilight hurried to reassure her.
“Will you be alright though, Twilight? What with… everything? I could probably cast Forgall on you too, so you don’t have to deal with anything… unpleasant.”
Twilight smiled back at her. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” she said with certainty. On impulse she gave Starlight a quick kiss on the corner of her mouth. Starlight only then saw the tears welling up in Twilight eyes, and the betrayal.
Then Twilight’s spell hit her right in the forehead.
Twilight gently caught Starlight’s collapsing body in her magic and floated her onto her back. “I’m so sorry, Starlight,” she whispered. She could only hope that Starlight would understand. Hypothetically. She would never be able to, since she would never know.
Forgall and a pretty hard-hitting sedative. It would take her a few hours to get Starlight back to the castle, and she couldn’t risk her waking up early.
Now only Twilight knew. She would care of any inconsistencies Starlight would experience, lest she caught on, but she’d manage.
She made a mental note to return The power of sharing to Starlight’s room before she woke up. And another triple-choc pecan cookie. The lending list needed to be updated. They would also have to have another discussion of the book. It might actually be fun—she quite liked the book.
It was the least she could do. Starlight deserved to be happy. She shouldn’t have to go through so much pain because of one single slip-up. Making sure of that, Twilight told herself, was her prerogative as princess and mentor.
And she really really didn’t want to give up any of the precious memories of last night.
