Twilight smiled a stiff smile, looking at nothing and nopony in-particular. Shining kept his nose down, using food as an excuse not to make eye contact. Beside him, Cadence rubbed her neck with a hoof, twisting like she had a sore muscle. The Sparkle family ate without a word, and the only sound was the clink of cutlery.
Finally, Cadence couldn’t take it anymore. “Dinner’s very good,” she said, and while Shining and Twilight knew well enough to avert their eyes, Cadence made eye-contact with their mother.
“Well I’m glad somepony appreciates it!” Twilight Velvet laughed, shooting a pointed glare at her children. “Or do you three just appreciate it so much it stops you from making conversation?”
“Mom.” Twilight ruffled her wings. “It’s not like that.” She glanced down the table, opposite the direction of her mother. The Sparkle family had three children: Twilight, Shining, and their little sister, Light Step. None were foolish enough to repeat Cadence’s mistake.
“Oh, you just come all the way home for Thanksgiving so you can appreciate the silence? Not one word for your mother about how you’re doing?” Twilight Velvet said. Then, she did the unthinkable: “You know, Light Step got into a scholarship program for her art.”
“Oh, did you?” Cadence asked, failing to notice Shining’s desperate signaling under the table.
“Yeah,” Light Step replied. She was a teenager of sixteen years, with a soft blue coat and a cutie mark depicting three stars and a pen. She cut her hair like a colt, perhaps in an attempt to emphasize her rather small horn and modest flanks. “I won an award for some paintings I did of the night sky. I’m going to get to go to Canterlot School of the Arts.”
Light Step cleared her throat: “You know. I might get to stay in the Twilight Sparkle Dormitory.” Her tone hardened. “The one with the statue out front.”
“Oh. Ha ha. Right.” Twilight’s smile became so tight lines showed in her face. “That old… thing. It’s an ugly statue anyway.”
“It is not ugly.” Twilight Velvet chastised her daughter. “You’re too humble, Twilight. You’re really the overachiever in this family.”
“She’d have to be.” Light Step folded her forehooves and glared. “Since Shining is a full-time trophy husband.”
The shock rippled across the table. Twilight’s mother and father shouted angry exclamations. Twilight dropped her fork. Cadence glared a soft but intense glare. “Light!” Twilight Velvet finally found words. “You apologize right this—”
“No no.” Shining cut in, his words coming quickly. “It’s fine. Really. It’s fine. It’s true! I am a trophy husband. I while away my days teaching PE and spending Cadence’s money.” He kicked his mother under the table. “So let’s leave it, okay?”
“Okay,” said Twilight Velvet with a sigh.
“Okay,” said Twilight Sparkle.
“Okay,” said Night Light.
“Ain’t nopony mess with my stallion,” Cadence replied, snapping her hooves against the table. “Because a trophy husband he may be? But end of his year, he’s collecting a Nobel Prize for trophy husbanding, and don’t you forget it.”
Silence reigned around the table. Shining’s face sunk into his hooves.
“What…” Light Step frowned. “How do you win a Nobel Prize for trophy husbanding?”
“It’s for Peace,” Shining said quickly. “The sort of meaningless, nonsense award they give to royalty for being royalty. So let’s just—”
“It’s for forging a peace between the Crystal Empire and Queen Amaryllis’s changeling hive.” Cadence explained. “Because, when we got married, I told Shining we could have an open marriage. Whatever makes him happy! But in all these years he’d never once taken me up on it.”
Cadence placed her hooves on the table and leaned forward. “Until Queen Amaryllis’s horde had the capital surrounded, and he went out to negotiate peace terms. And you know what he did? He did her. He did her so hard the rest of the swarm could feel it through the hive mind. Ten thousand changeling drones went cross-eyed and squeezed their back legs together.”
Cadence waggled a hoof. “And after he said, no open marriage unless you stop trying to conquer my wife’s kingdom. And not only did she do it, she gave us gifts as an apology. Enough to double the treasury. You know, so when he gets that Nobel Prize for trophy husbanding, he can say he’s spending two rich mares’ money.”
Light Step’s muzzle scrunched up. Her eyes watered. For a moment it looked like she might cry. Then she slammed her hooves down into the table, shouted “I hate all of you!” and ran off to her room. A moment later, the sound of a door slamming echoed through the house.
“Cadence!” Twilight’s eyes went wide as she stared at her one-time mentor. “You didn’t have to do that!”
Cadence snorted, lifting her nose high: “Ain’t nopony mess with my stallion.”
A few hours later, Twilight knocked gently on Light Step’s door. “Hey, Light?” she called. When there was no answer, she continued, “I brought you dinner.”
Still, nopony inside answered her. Twilight sighed, set the plate down outside the door, and then sat beside the door herself. She folded her legs under her like a cat, and tucked her tail in around them. “Cadence shouldn’t have done that. You made her really angry. She doesn’t like it when people call Shining a trophy husband. She wants them to be equals in their marriage. Implying they aren’t is one of her buttons.”
Still, there was no answer from inside the door. “But that’s not an excuse for what she did. So.” Twilight paused. “I’ll make her apologize later.”
“Twilight?” Light Step asked from inside the door. “You’re an alicorn. And you’re immortal, right?”
Twilight swallowed. “Yeah.”
“I don’t like the idea that you’re going to live on and be some great hero centuries after I’m a pile of dust.” Light Step sniffled. “Am I going to be an alicorn one day?”
“Well… maybe.” Twilight forced a smile onto her face, though nopony could see it. “With friendship in your heart, anything is possible.”
Light Step thought about that for some time.
“Twilight?” She finally said.
“Yeah?”
“The next time you wonder why I hate you, it’s because you act like you’re some big hero, but you don’t even have the guts to say the word ‘no.’ I don’t know if you’re a coward, or if you just think I’m stupid, but I want you to leave now.”
Twilight left.
An hour or so later, Light Step cracked the door opened and pulled the cool plate of greens inside.
Light Step lay on her bed. Her room was quite nice: it was airy and freshly painted, the furniture was modern and comfortable, and she had a skylight. The air smelled faintly of lavender, and there were even servants who came in once a day to change the sheets and bring fresh towels. A few of them were unicorns, but everypony knew that was just so the school couldn’t be accused of keeping “earth pony servants.” And they left mints.
Every student agreed the Twilight Sparkle Dormitory was the best on campus. The housing lottery to live in it had odds of hundreds to one. The only reliable way to get in was if a student’s parents made a donation to the school.
The statue of Twilight was in the courtyard outside her window. She could see it.
She didn’t have a single bedroom, though that was by her request. Her roommate was a changeling named Double Time. Double Time was the first changeling to attend the Canterlot School of the Arts, and Light thought it would be good to help her adjust. When she requested Double as a roommate, she assumed that this poor, hungry, oppressed creature would need a friend to introduce it to free society.
It turned out that Double had been living in pony society for years as an infiltrator, and so was already quite well adjusted. She also wasn’t from King Thorax’s hive, as Light had assumed, but was part of Queen Amaryllis’s hive in the north. Practically speaking, that made no difference. Both groups of changelings were reformed.
But it did mean that Double Time once had the psychic, vicarious joy of sleeping with Shining Armor.
“Good morning!” Double Time called as she pushed open the door, though it was well past eleven. She was in her natural changeling form, and she was filthy. The hairs on her legs were sticky, someone had drawn a smiley face on her carapice, and a number of lipstick kisses adorned her delicate faerie wings. “How are you doing?”
“Great,” Light answered, without looking up from the window. “I whored it up last night and slept with like, thirty strangers.”
“Wow, you too?” Double Time lifted one of her hooves to Light for a hoof bump. Her tone was so cheerful it became a weapon—a concentrated beam of positive energy. “Twin-sies!” she actually sang the word.
When Light ignored her, Double Time snorted and lowered her hoof. She collected her bathroom kit, pausing when she noticed her wing sponge was missing.
“Can I go with you to the studio after you’re done cleaning up?” Light asked, her voice still soft.
“What makes you think I’m going to the studio?”
“You always paint landscapes after a crazy night out.” Light lay so still, a twitch of her tail was the only motion to show her body wasn’t paralyzed. Her tone was muted, and her words were slow and quiet. “And your landscapes are really good. I like watching you paint them.”
“Professor Easel says he wants me to work on my figures more.”
“So? Forget him.” She paused, then went on. “He’s a racist ass who thinks just because you’re a changeling you’ll have a gift for figures and form.”
“Ooh, good advice, Professor. So tell me, with that statue right there, you must have accidentally looked out the window at a few points. Right?” Double Time paused a moment for emphasis, then concluded. “Have you ever, like, seen your sister’s face at the exact moment you start touching yourself?”
Light Step’s ears folded back against her head. Her dull expression turned into a hot glare, and she shot up in bed. “What the hell?” she shouted, her tone suddenly sharp.
“Look, Light?” Double Time raised a hoof. “There’s three things everypony on campus knows about you. First is that you’re Twilight’s little sister, because she’s famous enough you’re famous by proxy. Second is that you’re an immensely talented painter, because everypony who sees your work falls in love with it.” Double Time kissed her hoof like a chef sampling a fine sauce. “Mwah, beautiful.”
Double Time held that pose for a moment, letting it linger. Then she finished: “The third thing everypony knows about you is that you’re an asshole.” Her horn glowed and she yanked a sponge out from under Light’s bed. It was covered with paint. “And you used my special imported wing sponge to clean your palettes again.”
She threw the sponge in Light’s face, picked up the rest of her bathroom kit, and left.
Light didn’t react. She flinched when the sponge hit her, but she let it fall to the floor. She stared at it, and remained in that pose until Double Time returned twenty minutes later, damp but considerably cleaner.
“I envy you. You know that?” Light Step said before the door had even shut. Her voice was soft and scratchy. “I hate my life. I hate my life and I hate myself and I wish I could turn into somepony else and walk away.”
“Won’t help.” Double Time shrugged, dropping her bathroom kit under her bed and rummaging around for her things. “In the old days, I changed my background all the time: what I looked like, who my parents were, where I come from. I was looking for just the right combination that would make ponies love me. So I could be happy. But no matter who I was, or how ponies treated me, all I could think about was the gnawing hunger in my gut. I was starving. I was always starving, and no matter how much love I got it was never enough.”
Double Time found her saddlebag and her paints, transforming into a unicorn pony in a flash before strapping the saddlebag around her midsection. It protected her fragile insect wings. “Because the problem wasn’t them. It was me. And the problem isn’t them, it’s you. You’ve got a chip in your shoulder the size of Canterlot Mountain. You understand? You have a raging, toxic inferiority complex and stealing somepony else’s life won’t change that.”
“Well maybe I wish I could just have one day when nopony recognizes me as Twilight and Shining’s kid sister.” Light’s tone turned bitter, and she glared at the floor. “Is that so much to ask for?”
“You know what?” Double Time snapped. “Fine.”
Her horn glowed, there was a bright green flash, and where Light Step had been sitting a moment ago, there instead sat a bright red unicorn stallion.
“What—” Light Step shouted, only to abruptly fall silent at the sound of her—his—deeper voice. His eyes went wide, and he slowly lifted one of his forehooves to stare at it. Seconds passed in silence before he abruptly jerked his head down to look at his torso. Then, with some trepidation, he lifted one leg to examine his own undercarriage and confirm his gender.
“Ta-da!” Double Time proclaimed. “The spell will wear off on its own after twenty-four hours. If you get tired of it before then, just say, ‘Kizzlefub’ and it will end immediately. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to work on my figures.”
“No, Double Time. Wait…” Light feebly lifted a hoof.
“Ta!” Double Time shouted. She left anyway.
Light Step walked away from his life.
He stood up, looked around his dorm room, and left. Then he left the building, and campus, and wandered into the streets of Canterlot.
His hooves took him where they wished. It didn’t take long before he was completely lost, and he never bothered trying to fix that. One road carried him for three full hours, until it turned into a dirt trail leading to a rock quarry. He’d long since left the good part of town behind, with the university and the coffee shops and the dress boutiques. The buildings around him were made of brick instead of marble. He picked a road at random, and started walking again.
When his sister’s mentor lowered the sun, he found that many of the streets around him had no street lightning. The buildings were abandoned or dim, and at times he was plunged into total darkness. Eventually, firelight drew him to a bazaar, were many petty merchants were hawking their wares to the impoverished.
He didn’t have any money, but he drew some drawings with a piece of chalk he found on the sidewalk, and a crowd gathered to look. A few of them threw coins at him, and he was able to buy a sandwich.
By ten, the last of the merchants were packing up. The bazaar closed, and one by one, the fire lights went out. Light Step stayed, having found a bench he did not want to part with. He was again enveloped in darkness. He lowered his head to the hardwood, and went to sleep, ignoring his shivers in the cold.
He was awoken by a stallion screaming.
Light’s eyes shot open, and his head jerked up. Instinct identified the source of the noise before his conscious mind had even finished waking up. There was a pony close by, no more than thirty meters, and they were in great pain. Motion in the darkness pulled Light’s head to the right. There were a number of faint lights there, clustered around the source of the shrieking.
When Light’s eyes cleared, he realized they were glowing unicorn horns. They were gathered around a pony thrashing on the ground.
If he’d had time to think, he would have ran. But the pony on the ground let out another plaintive wail, and once again, instinct took action before Light was fully ready. His own horn glowed in the darkness, and he grabbed the first debris he could find: an old metal trash can one of the merchants left behind. He rushed towards the figures, letting out a yell as much terrified as it was courageous.
He crossed the distance in six long strides. One of the figures turned to confront him. With their horn glowing, only their face could be seen: a unicorn wearing a black bandanna. Light swung hard, and brought the trashcan down across their face.
It connected with a loud snap that did not sound much at all like metal breaking. A handful of white objects flew through the dim night, glinting in the horn light.
“Hey! You-” One of the other figures rushed forward, but Light swung again. This time he swung low, but the attack still connected with the unicorn’s body. There was a meaty thump, and the light from his own flew to the side as he did.
“Run for it!” a third voice shouted. Then all the horns except Light Step’s went out, and he could no longer see his attackers. The sound of hoofbeats seemed to come from all directions, their flight into the darkness echoing off the brickwork buildings.
The stallion was still writhing in the ground, though his screaming had reduced to whimpers. With effort, Light Step brightened his horn until he could see a little better. His natural blue aura glinted off golden armor -- a member of the Royal Guard lay on the ground curled into the fetal position. He was surrounded by cans of spray paint, presumably dropped by the attackers.
His entire face was stained bright pink. From the look of things, Light guessed they’d emptied most of a can directly into his eyes.
“Here. Here,” he said, kneeling by the guard’s side. “Don’t worry, you’ll be okay. I know a spell to clean up paint. I’m an artist.” His horn glowed and blue light shone down on the stallion’s face. “Just hold still.”
It took only a few seconds. The paint that had dried inside his eyelids turned back to liquid, then turned from liquid paint to water. He sweated it, wept it, and it ran off him in rivers. His whimpering stopped, and his vision cleared. “Wha…?”
“Yeah,” Light said breathlessly. “That stuff’s pretty nasty. You’re really supposed to wear eye protection when you use it.”
The guard froze, looking into Light’s eyes in the dim light. Then he laughed. “Thank Celestia.” His chuckles wouldn’t stop, and it was with some effort that he staggered to his hooves. “I thought I was a goner!”
“You almost were.” Light smiled, rising to his hooves as well. “I thought guard were always supposed to travel in pairs.”
“I’m not on patrol.” He reached up to pull off his helmet. Light’s spell had only affected his face, and so the helmet’s edge was still covered in spray paint. He stared at it, illuminating his own horn to see more clearly. “I know some ponies who live here and they were worried. Thought I’d come down and make sure they were okay.”
Light couldn’t help himself. “Well they’re probably fine.”
“Yeah yeah.” The guard chuckled again and put his helmet back on. “Seriously, I can’t thank you enough. What’s your name?”
“I’m uh…” Light Step looked down, staring at his own hooves. “Uh…” He glanced around them, and his eyes caught an extinguished fire pit. “Burner.”
“Master of deception, you are.” The guard’s sarcasm bit.
“Pride of Equestrian Army you are,” Light shot back. A touch of bitterness entered his tone. “If you need combat training, I know a changeling. Maybe she could give you a few pointers.”
“I’d love to,” the guard replied, keeping his tone level and refusing to rise to the bait. “It’s actually not allowed.”
“Wait.” Light frowned. “Seriously? I was just yanking your chain.”
“Yeah, seriously. No going and getting combat training from foreign powers or non-governmental organizations.” He shrugged. “It implies our training is inadequate, you know? Makes the officers look bad.”
“Oh.” After a long pause, Light scuffed a hoof on the pavement. “That sucks.”
“I just got my flank kicked by four street punks. It really sucks.”
A lull came over the conversation. With their horns lit, their eyes had adjusted to the illumination, and neither pony could see a thing around them. The hoofsteps of the punks had long since faded, and silence ruled the street.
“Listen, ‘Burner.’ Or whatever your name is,” the guard said, “I owe you one. Really. My name’s Pile Drive. If you ever need something, you know. Come look me up.”
“Yeah,” Light said reflexively. Then he stopped caught himself, and his pose suddenly changed. He lifted his ears and looked more alert. “Actually, no. If it’s okay, I want to cash in that favor right now.”
“To do…” Pile Drive frowned, “what?”
Light picked up the spray paint cans the fleeing thugs had left scattered on the pavement. A few teeth were scattered amongst them. “Watch my back while I graffiti that big wall over there?”
The two locked eyes. Pile Drive’s jaw worked from side to side. He considered his armor, and considered the darkness and silence around them. “Yeah,” he finally said. “Okay.”
They stood there for hours. Light Step’s horn glowed bright as he manipulated eight cans at once, pulling them up and down the surface of the brick. At first, Pile Drive watched Light with a wary eye. But as the night went on, his gaze shifted to the wall, and he watched the art.
When Twilight’s mentor raised the sun, it peeked over the horizon and cast it’s early morning glow over the streets. Pile Drive looked around them, and nudged Light’s shoulder. “Ponies will be up any minute. We gotta go.”
“Yeah. I’m about out of paint, so. I guess this is as done as this thing is getting.” Light dropped the last can. “Thanks.”
“No, thank you, this was…” Pile Drive trailed off, then cleared his throat. “I like it.”
“Really?”
“It’s mean as Chrysalis herself, but, yeah. I like it. Says a lot of things I’ve been wanting to say.” He turned away. “Now get out of here before someone sees us and I have to arrest you.”
Light step nodded, turned away, and ran off into the city. He barely made it back to the dorms by the twenty-four-hour mark, and abruptly transformed back into a mare in the middle of a thankfully empty university corridor.
Then she crawled into her bed and stared out the window. Double Time never even asked her where she’d been all night.
Nopony at the art school saw her art. The students never wandered into the bad part of town, and The Canterlot Times wouldn’t dare run a printing of it. But there were plenty of amateur photographers who took their own snapshots before the Royal Guard painted over the wall.
She’d covered the entire west face of the old Canterlot Canning Company factory with a single, massive mural. With elegant lines, innovative use of color, and a bold impressionist style, it depicted Shining Armor, the Captain of the Royal Guard. His head was held high, his pose was regal, and his helmet was tucked in under one leg.
His face was also covered in makeup, just the way Cadence liked it.
Every Tuesday and Thursday at three o’clock, Double Time and Light Step walked across campus together to Professor Easel’s class. He taught Visual Design Theory, a lightweight class about the history of art and artistic presentation. While it did have presentation assignments and a final project, most students considered it an “easy A.”
On the last week of spring semester, he gave an exceptionally gentle homework assignment. To study the art of speed drawing, the students were to spend one hour exactly sketching a pegasus in flight. When he assigned it, a few students laughed. Professor Easel laughed as well, and said he knew they were in the middle of their end-of-semester projects, so he didn’t want to be too hard on them. It was something for them to have fun with.
Double Time and Light Step walked into the last lecture of the semester, and sat side by side in the middle row. They were talking about hats when the lecture started.
“Hello, everypony!” Professor Easel said, smiling as he walked along the rows of desks. “Homework please. Homework. Homework.” His horn glowed, and he gathered the assignments as he walked. “Yes, give it here. And, hello.”
When he reached the middle row, Double Time pulled out her assignment and handed it over. Light Step cleared her throat.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “homework assignments are due at the end of class.”
“Ms. Step,” Professor Easel gave her a narrow look, “when I said to do the assignment in an hour, I didn’t mean you were supposed to do it during the lecture.”
She shrugged. The other students around her surreptitiously flicked their eyes between her and the professor, trying not to show their interest in the confrontation. Professor Easel stared her down for a few moments, but finally let out a terse: “Have it your way.”
The room relaxed, and Easel moved on down the lecture hall. Light Step pulled out a single, standard-size sheet of paper and a pencil and started to sketch. Class started barely a minute later.
“Alright, everypony. Last lecture of the semester, but that doesn’t mean we can’t learn something today,” the professor began. “I know many of you are hoping to be professional painters or designers, so I thought we’d conclude the class by learning about contemporary theory. Can anypony name a style of visual art invented in the last ten years?” He pointed. “Light?”
“Superflat Design.” She didn’t look up from her sketch, and the pencil continued to move as she spoke. “Trans-Nihongan Classical Painting. Corrective Mass Generation. And the International Journal of Art defined ‘Third Wave Digital’ as its own genre in their May issue, but I think that’s a bit premature.”
Professor Easel didn’t call on her for the rest of the lecture, which suited them both fine. She kept her head down and focused on the paper. Fifty minutes came and went without her paying anypony else the slightest mind.
Then, Professor Easel asked: “Can anypony tell me which of these two is the forgery?” He pointed once more. “Double Time, how about you?”
Light Step’s pencil froze. Her ears lifted and rotated towards the front of the room. Her eyes turned up as well, though her head stayed low. Double Time, for her part, shifted in her seat and focused her eyes on the front of the room. The professor’s teaching assistant had brought in two nearly identical paintings, both sitting on display stands. Each one depicted a pegasus mare in chivalric armor, her helmet under one leg and her head held high.
“The left one,” Double Time said. “They both look old. More than two hundred years old, I’d guess. But the left one uses a vibrant purple for the mare’s tail. I don’t think colors that bright existed back then.”
“Good eye for detail. Heh. De-tail.” A few ponies chuckled. “Well, Ms. Time is quite correct. Contemporary paints are—”
Light Step lowered her pencil: “They’re both forgeries.”
The professor reflexively froze at the interruption. Students sitting in front of Light turned back to look at her, and a ripple of whispered conversation passed through the room. “These are from the school’s gallery, Ms. Step,” the professor said, “so unless you know something the gallery director doesn’t, I think that’s unlikely.”
“The gallery director knows exactly what he’s doing, which is why he had the piece filed as seventh century art. But in the supplemental reading for today, you list it as second century.” Light spoke quickly and firmly, her tone conveying that she had a great deal to get through and did not care to be interrupted. “But let’s be more specific. The piece on the left is la yegua guerrera pegaso, allegedly painted in the 2ed century by Farrier the Younger. Source.” She sharpened her tone, her horn glowed, and with a snap, something appeared in the air over her.
It was a bibliography entry, written in floating text. “Leffer, Chalk Dust, Single Hair. An Analysis of the Origin of Classical Works, Volume 3. CGB Gallery, 933”
“That’s enough, young mare,” Professor Easel snapped. The rest of the class was staring with wide eyes. Some students gaped.
“Her saddle has stirrup rings.” Light sneered when she spoke. “Impressive for a second century artist given that they won’t be invented for another hundred years. But this is a class about art theory, not military history, so let’s talk about the artist’s technique. Specifically, use his use of perspective. Notice the rock in the background on the left? Notice how its shadow subtly wraps around the rock like a real shadow does instead of having straight edge?”
The class turned to look where she pointed, and before the professor could interrupt, she finished: “That technique wasn’t invented until two-hundred and fifty years after this painting was allegedly made. Source!”
With a loud snap, another bibliography entry appeared floating over her head.
“I said that’s enough!” Professor Easel raised his voice to a low shout. “It does not matter what century it was made in. I’m comparing it to a contemporary—”
“You got it out of the school paper.” Light growled. “Source.”
With a snap, another citation appeared in floating letters over her head. A physical copy of the school paper appeared appeared alongside it, and fell to the ground with a thump. “Two weeks ago, the school paper ran a puff piece on the gallery, where they showed a picture of that painting,” Light’s hoof jabbed as she pointed, “and incorrectly captioned it with the original alleged creator: Farrier the Younger, second century.”
The room froze. When Light momentarily stopped talking, the professor hesitated to leap in. She took that hesitation as a signal to continue, and when she spoke, she spoke more slowly to emphasize her words: “The gallery has it filed correctly. They listed it as a seventh century forgery of a second century work. The library has it filed correctly, and the bill of sale to the gallery has it filed correctly. But the school paper got it wrong. And you, the professor who teaches art theory and art history, read that article and decided to show the painting off in your class. And you failed to notice—”
“Give me one good reason—!” The last vestiges of politeness vanished as the professor started shouting outright.
Light shouted back. “You failed to notice five hundred years difference!”
Professor Easel snarled and his tail lashed behind him. “If you think this is how you can treat your instructors, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have you expelled from the school.”
“Because that building your new office is going in is named the Step Center,” she made a flowery gesture at herself, “and my sister-in-law hasn’t actually paid for the whole thing yet. Would be real awkward if the school ran out of money part way through.”
Nopony dared to speak. Professor Easel’s face was twisted into a mask of rage, but he couldn't bring himself to shout. For a long, slow count of ten, silence held lease over the lecture hall.
Then the clock on the wall went bing.
“Oh, ah. One hour exactly. That’s time.” Light picked up the paper off her desk. “My homework!” The paper she held up didn’t look anything like a pegasus -- it was a collection of abstract lines and shapes that ran all the way up to the edge of the page. Her horn glowed one more time, and the paper duplicated itself into two identical drawings, then four, then eight, then sixteen. Soon they were hundreds.
Light stuck them to the wall, turning and orienting them as needed. In a matter of seconds, paper layered over paper and the lines wove together. When it was done, the wall was covered with a broad paper mural, depicting an abstract drawing of a pegasus mare made only of geometric lines. It was all the same artwork, but twisted one way it became wings, another way a head, another way hooves.
It looked better than most of the other students’ final assignments.
“Get out!” Professor Easel snarled.
Light obliged.
“They’re going to expel you,” Double Time said, back in their dorm room.
Light shrugged.
“No, seriously.” Double Time took a seat on her bed across the room from Light’s. “You humiliated a professor in front of an entire class. They will.”
“Probably,” Light rolled over, looking out the window at the statue of Twilight.
“Will Cadence even go to bat for you? I thought you said she hated you.”
“She does,” Light said, “so no. If the school contacts her to check, there’s no way she’ll threaten their funding over me. But they might not contact her to check. It’s not common knowledge that we don’t get along. They could assume.”
“So you risked your entire education, your entire future, on the hope that the school is so terrified of your family they won’t even try to call your bluff?” Double Time’s tone turned incredulous. Then it turned angry. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that Professor Easel has played ‘spot the forgery’ with the class four times, and every time he calls on you first.”
Double Time pulled her head back. It took a moment find the words. “And you thought you needed to… what? Defend my honor?” Her voice rose to a shout. “I was a hive soldier you stupid horse! I could have taken everypony in that class apart if I wanted to. I didn’t rise to the bait because my pride isn’t worth making a scene over.”
“I know we’re not really friends, but you’re the closest thing I have. So I guess you’re my closest friend by default.” Light Step hugged her pillow. “And I got angry. That’s all. I’m sorry I made things hard on you.”
For second long seconds, Double Time reacted in silence. She stared, she gaped, the rubbed her face with a hoof, and she turned away to look at the wall, all without making a sound. She was a one-changeling pantomime show.
Finally, she said: “You know how you feel when you look at that statue? Well, that’s how every artist in that class feels about you. Congratulations, you’re better than us. You’re so much better than us that I could probably spend all of next semester studying what you did this afternoon. Are you happy now? Do you really feel like we’re best friends?”
“So leave.” Light Step’s tone was dull, and she continued to stare out at the statue. “I have no idea why you even put up with me.”
“Probably because I know what it’s like to have a heart full of poison. I’m reformed now, but I wasn't always.” She sighed. “So I wanted to think it wasn’t your fault. And I guess I held out some hope you’d get better.”
“Some things don’t get better.” Light squeezed her eyes shut. “Double? Can I… ask you for a favor? One last thing before they kick me out and you get a new roommate?”
“Oh sure.” Double Take rolled her eyes, her tone laced with derision. “What do you want?”
“Remember that time a few months back, you cast a spell on me so I’d look like a random stallion? I ended up spending the whole time downtown. I drew chalk art on the sidewalk and ponies threw coins at me. They thought I was a busker.” She paused. “It was really nice. You know? I don’t care if I ever get patronage or if my paintings to hang in a gallery. It’s not about prestige. It’s about the art. Art is special. It’s special even if…”
Light trailed off. “Can you cast that again, please? I want to go downtown and draw without worrying about Twilight or Shining or somepony from the school finding me.”
When Double Time didn't respond, Light continued: “I’m sorry I called you a whore. I was just angry because I’m still a virgin and you’re so confidant with stallions and… I don’t know. It was petty and jealous and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
She bit her lip, and her voice cracked: “Please.”
Light Step walked to one of the worst parts of Canterlot, where the buildings were crumbling and the ponies were poor and angry. She—temporarily a he—put a hat down on the sidewalk. Then he pulled out box of chalk.
He drew buildings, forests, and legendary creatures. He drew ponies he saw in the market, and always depicted them in ways that would make them happy. Sometimes he even took requests. A little filly asked him to draw a princess, and so he found an unwashed concrete wall and drew her with wings. Then he gave her a throne and a palace, and drew in her parents and friends as courtiers.
Crowds gathered around him as he worked. Sometimes they’d applaud, and ponies would toss bits into his hat. They didn’t throw very many bits, as it was not a wealthy neighborhood, but it was enough for him to get some oats from a street vendor.
As the hour grew late and the sun low in the sky, Light sat on some steps next to an old stallion. The old stallion was sharing stories about the Invasion of Canterlot, and spinning tall tales about how he’d fended off half the changeling army with only his hooves and a fire poker. Light shared his oats. He only had one piece of chalk left anyway.
“Hey!” A voice called out. Turning his head, Light saw four young stallions approaching the steps. Three of them already covered their faces with black bandannas—the fourth was hurriedly pulling his on. “I know you,” the lead stallion said. “You’re that guy who knocked out Pin Stripe’s teeth last season.”
The old stallion got up, ran up the steps into the house, and locked the door behind him. It all happened before Light could react.
Lazily, he turned his head to look at the door. Then he looked at the toughs, who had already surrounded the step. With an air of resignation, he got to his hooves and walked up to the one who spoke. “Yup,” he said. “That’s me.”
The lead stallion in the group responded with a snort, pulling a short-bladed knife out from under his saddlebags. It was barely an inch long -- a boxcutter with the safety guards removed. “You think you can come into our neighborhood and make trouble?”
Light didn’t respond. He only stared at the toughs, his expression flat. After a moment, the lead went on: “You think I won’t cut you up?”
“Will you shut up and kill me already?”
The toughs froze. One looked at the other. “You think I’m screwing around?” Their leader demanded.
“I think you buy cheap spray paint. I’ve been seeing your graffiti all over.” Light shrugged. “Whoever signs their work, ‘Grey Hound’ is pretty bad.”
“I’m Grey Hound!” Their leader gestured again with the knife.
“Wow, cool. I know your secret identity. Guess you better kill me so I don’t tell the Guard.” Light leaned in. “You’ve got a knife. I’m made of meat. What are you waiting for? Do it.”
The toughs looked at eachother again. Light’s chest tightened, and it took effort for him just to draw a breath. “I said do it, coward!”
Grey Hound took a swing with the boxcutter. It slashed across Light’s shoulder, drawing a deep cut. Blood sprang out of the wound at once, running in little streams down his foreleg.
The toughs looked at the cut. Light looked at it as well. His face barely showed any reaction. There was a slight twinge of pain, but not much else. Experimentally, he lifted and lowered his leg, watching the blood flow slow or pick up.
“The heck is wrong with you?” Grey Hound demanded.
Light’s horn glowed, and his magic reached into Grey Hound’s saddlebags. In a flash of blue light, the spraypaint cans inside vanished, appearing next to Light. He depressed the activator, and shot a spray of bright silver paint directly into Grey Hound’s eyes.
Grey Hound shrieked. He screamed and tumbled to the ground, clawing at his eyes with both hooves. The others took a step towards Light, but he raised the spraypaint cans like they were weapons, and the toughs backed off just as quickly. After a moment, one had the sense to grab their leader and pull him away.
That started a retreat. Grey Hound could have stopped it, if he could have seen what was happening. But he was otherwise occupied. The toughs moved away in fits and starts, swearing all the while, before finally vanishing around a street corner.
After they were gone, the door of the house up the steps opened, and the old stallion poked his head out. “Are you…” He asked. “Okay?”
Light shrugged, then regretted it, a wince crossing his face as he covered the wound in his shoulder with a hoof. “I think I could use a bandage. Can I borrow a cloth?”
“Uh… sure.” The stallion frowned. “Anything else?”
“Yeah. Can I use the front wall of your building here?”
When Light Step returned to school, once again a mare, her shoulder was still intermittently bleeding. Double Take’s spell did nothing to protect her from harm, and the physical shock of transforming back into a mare had reopened the wound.
So she went to the studio, shattered a glass jar of imported paints, and mashed it against her shoulder until more cuts appeared and paint stained her coat. She went to a hospital, and told them she slipped and fell on the jar.
Word spread quickly. There was a new stallion downtown, ponies said: a powerful spellcaster and a graffiti artist. They said he stood up to the gangs and wasn’t afraid of anything. Nopony knew him, but they saw his work. He signed his graffiti “Burner.”
The campus was all abuzz as well. Every student in Professor Easel’s class talked about what they saw. The student body sat eager for news of Light Step’s expulsion. When the school quietly did nothing and tried to cover up the entire incident, interest only grew.
But Light Step didn’t care much about any of that.
She was happy to see that her newest work made it into The Canterlot Tribune. She’d done it over the front of the old stallion’s apartment building. It was simple in concept, but she was very pleased with the execution. On the left side of the building sat a black, insectile changeling with empathetic pony eyes. Facing them on the right was a pony with an insect’s compound eyes, and a cruel sneer to match.
“Good morning!” Double Time called as she pushed open the door. It was a bit past ten on Sunday morning, and as usual, Double Time was filthy. She was sticky, she was damp, and the chitin along her neck was covered in smeared lipstick. “How are you doing?”
“Good.” Light Step was sitting up in bed and reading a book on street art. “I found some really cool things you can do with chalk. I want to try them the next time I’m incognito.”
“Good times.” Double Time replied amicably, grabbing her bathroom kit from under her bed. “Well, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Sure.” Light agreed, but when Double Time trotted out, Light didn’t go back to her book. She bit her lip and stared at the door to their dorm room, willing it to open with her mind. Minutes passed that way. When she heard hoofbeats outside the door, she quickly flicked ahead a few pages so a keen observer would think she’d been reading.
Double Time pushed back, wrapped in a fluffy towel. The hot shower always made her carapace pale. She wasn’t quite snow-white, but her reformed “rainbow bug” look temporarily washed out every time she took a shower. It happened every time, only to go back to normal after a few minutes. She didn’t mind.
“So,” Light asked as Double Time dropped off her bathroom kit. “Did you have fun last night?”
Double Time paused mid-step, and turned to look at Light head on. “That’s the first time you’ve ever asked.”
Light shrugged. “I’m trying to be less of a bitch.”
“I noticed.” Double Time paused, then went back to what she was doing. She tossed off her hot towel and buzzed her wings to help them dry. “In a good way. It’s working for you.”
“Thanks. Getting to spend time out in the city is helping.” Light shut her book and turned to sit across on the bed, facing her roommate head on. “But, seriously. Did you?”
“Fun isn’t quite the right word. But, I enjoyed myself.” The beating of her wings was already restoring her colors, blues and greens springing back into prominence over her shell.
“Meet uh… anypony new?” Light cleared her throat.
“Okay, seriously.” Double Time paused the buzzing of her wings. “I want to go paint. Short version, please.”
“I’m just, ah.” Light drew in a breath. “What’s the appeal, exactly? Of getting screwed by twenty strangers every week? I didn’t think changeling drones even… you know.”
“Had a sex drive?” Double Time checked, waiting for Light’s nod. “We don’t. We’re all neutered. Only the queen actually gets laid.”
That made Light grimace, and Double Time smiled. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bring up family history. But, no. I can’t enjoy sex the way you can. I don’t have the parts for it. But back in the old days, when we had to steal love to survive, lust was like… cinnamon. It’s not sustaining or nutritious, and if you try to eat a full serving of it you can actually get very sick. But some changelings liked a little of it to add flavor.”
“Including you?”
“Including me. And while I don’t need to drain love to survive, I miss that taste in my diet.” She turned to gather up her painting supplies, tossing them into her saddlebags. With a flash of green light, she transformed into a unicorn mare. “And they’re not strangers. I feed on love; the lust is incidental. It only works if the ponies I’m with feel genuine affection for me. The relationships I’m in are quite shallow, and mostly predicated on physical attraction, but my partners do really want me to be happy. That’s enough to get a taste.”
“It doesn’t bother you that it’s…” Light gestured. “Superficial romance?”
“If a group of ponies invited you to the movies once in awhile, but you otherwise didn’t know them that well, would you feel bad you had a superficial cinematic relationship?” She tossed on her saddlebags, tightening them around her barrel. “I get that sex is a big deal for mammals, so I’m not trying to be disrespectful. But to me, it’s just not that special. It’s a way of getting spicy food.”
Light didn’t answer right away, and Double Time shook her head. “Anyway. I really want to go paint, so, catch up later?”
“Yeah.” Light said. She bit her lip hard. Then she asked, “When we meet up later. After, I mean. Do you uh… you want to go to the movies?”
Light Step shivered like she was freezing. Her legs shook, her tail twitched, and clamping her jaw together was the only thing that kept her teeth from chattering. No amount of effort would keep her gaze in one place -- her eyes darted around the room.
“You really don’t look like you’re having fun,” Double Time said. “I think this was a bad idea.”
“I’m fine.”
“Shaking uncontrollably at the thought of sex is not normal.”
“No. No. I’m fine.” Her tone turned pleading. “Please.” Light Step reached up to put a hoof on Double Time’s shoulder. With effort, she reduced its shaking to a slight tremble. “Could you be, um… a little taller?”
And so, Double Time became a little taller. She was in the form of a pegasus stallion, and quite the looker too. Bright eyes, a winning smile, strong shoulders, and a large frame all combined to make him a classic heartthrob. His mane was perfectly tousled, beautiful in a way that made it seem like he put in no effort at all. Nopony would have thought it strange to hear he was an actor or a model.
“Um.” Light Step stepped up to Double Time, checking their relative height. Her nose brushed Double Time’s, and another involuntary shudder passed through her. “That’s good.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “And could your coat be a little darker please?” And so Double Time’s coat darkened.
Light Step nodded, drawing in a breath through clenched teeth. “And, uh. Down there. Between your legs.” She pointed, just in case her implication wasn’t clear. “Could you…”
“I can do whatever you want,” Double Time said, his tone gentle. “But that’s already above average. I know it looks small out here, but trust me, it’ll feel a lot bigger once it’s inside you. Don’t overdo it your first time.”
“Okay,” Light whispered. “You’re the, um, expert.” Her eyes went to the floor. “I think that’s it then.”
A long silence hung between them. Finally Light asked, “How do we start?”
Double Time tilted up her chin with a wing. Their eyes met, and Light’s breath froze in her throat. A blush rose in her cheeks, and when she was nearly flush red, Double Time leaned in. Their lips met so gently that at first, Light barely even felt it. Double Time’s hot breath was real, but his lips were just a tingling at the edge of her senses.
Then he pulled her against him, and they met in a slow, passionate embrace.
For the next hour, they didn’t say a single word. Double kissed her, held her, and urged her on with his touch. She did not so much yield to his affection as surrender. When a suitable time had passed, and he’d caressed her in a sufficiently romantic manner, she rose to the common position, spread her legs, and lifted her tail.
He obliged her. She wasn’t vocal. Other than a few gasps for breath—and a sharp squeak at the end—she barely made a sound.
When it was over, she cried.
“Shhh. I’m here.” Double Time said, the first words they’d exchanged since they started. They curled up on Light’s bed together, and she tucked herself into Double’s larger body. He hugged her tight as they lay together, occasionally making soft affirmations or soothing noises.
Then, two sharp knocks reverberated off the window. “Knock knock!” Twilight called. The Princess Twilight Sparkle, that is. She was hovering outside. “Thought I’d stop…”
Double Time and Light Step turned to look out the window and saw Twilight hovering there. At the same moment, Twilight realized precisely what it was she was seeing. She froze mid word. “Uh.”
Light Step couldn’t find words either. She didn’t need to. An incoherent scream of rage conveyed her meaning perfectly well, and a moment later, she added a thrown lamp for emphasis. It shattered her window on her way out, and Twilight only narrowly dodged the projectile and the resulting cloud of broken glass.
“Well, I can see this is a bad time,” Twilight quickly averted her eyes. “I’ll uh… I’ll come back later.” Twilight fled before anypony could say more, twisting around the building and out of sight.
“Get out!” Light screamed at the open air, seemingly unaware that Twilight was already gone. She shook like a leaf on the wind, struggling to hold back tears. She stayed that way until Double Time wrapped her up in a hug once again, and told her it would be okay.
Double Time and Light Step went out to greet Twilight together. Double Time was still in his pegasus form.
“Light!” They found Twilight a block away from the building, somewhere with a good view of her statue. “I am so sorry. I was just trying to stop by and say hello. I honestly didn’t think—”
“It’s fine.” Light waved her off. Her voice was clipped, but she’d done a good job rubbing the tear-streaks off her face. “What did you see?”
“Just… you two. Lying together in bed.” Twilight cleared her throat and looked up into the sky. Her words came quickly, belted out in rapid bursts. “I mean, I don’t even know if anything happened. Not that anything would be wrong if it did happen! You’re your own mare and you make your own choices. But maybe you two are just good friends who needed to take a nap, and, that’s fine too. I mean, I have no evidence to contradict that very reasonable theory.”
“Us, lying in bed? You didn’t see or hear anything else?” Twilight’s expression was all the answer Light was likely to get, but it told her enough. “Right. Well.” She looked over at Double Time. “This is, uh… Ocean Rhythm. He’s my coltfriend.”
“A pleasure to meet you, your highness.” Double Time waved.
“Oh. Your coltfriend.” Twilight smiled stiffly and waved back. “It’s lovely to meet you, uh. Too. Yes.”
“Can you give my sister and I some time to talk?” Light asked Double. When Double gave her a questioning look, she added, “I’ll be fine. Really.”
Then she kissed him on the muzzle. He left.
“I’m really sorry,” Twilight repeated once he was gone. “I was only trying to be friendly and stop in to say hello. I didn’t think—”
“It’s fine. Really. It’s fine.” Light looked around the campus. It was a beautiful spring day. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and the quad was full of students enjoying the weather. The statue of Twilight was home to a number of pigeons, and as Light watched, one of them pooped on the statue’s head.
“Why don’t we find somewhere to sit down?” Light suggested, and they did. There was a bench not far away.
“So…” Twilight drew out the word. “That’s your coltfriend, huh? He’s um…”
“Caring.”
“Yes!” Twilight latched on, her words speeding up. “Caring. Very empathetic and caring. You can really see that when you look at him.” She gestured off the way they’d come. “You know. From a distance.”
Light frowned, and her brow furrowed. She turned to stare at Twilight. “You think my coltfriend is hot?”
“Well,” Twilight scoffed and looked off into the distance. “Not that that matters. But, he does seem physically attractive. Yes.”
“I guess he is. I don’t really think of him that way.” Light shook her head. “But what do you care? You’ve never abused your title to get a date with a model?”
“I have never-!” Twilight’s wings fluffed out. She was the very picture of indignance. “I mean, I would never do that. That’s a very… low and petty abuse of a sacred office.”
Light blinked twice. Her frown tightened. Then, suddenly, her ears shot up: “Oh my gosh. Are you a virgin?”
Twilight’s wings parted from her body and her voice rose. “That’s none of your business.”
“Oh my gosh.” Light laughed, more incredulous than amused. “You’re nine years older than me. What have you been doing?”
“Saving the world. Studying.” Twilight crossed her forehooves. “And it’s not a rush. I still look like I’m sixteen. It’s not like I’m getting any older.”
Light’s laughter stopped.
“Oh. Oh, no. Light.” Twilight lifted a hoof towards Light’s shoulder. When she saw her sister’s expression, sharp and hard, she lowered the hoof without contact. “I didn’t… mean it that way. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
“You’re saying that a lot today.” Light forced herself to take a deep breath, letting it out between her teeth. “But you’re right, I guess. I don’t think of him that way, because, you know. He’s a friend first. But he is pretty easy on the eyes, isn’t he?”
Birds tweeted. Neither of them spoke. Finally Light asked: “Why are you here?”
“I heard there was an incident with you and one of your teachers last semester.” Twilight cleared her throat, squared her shoulders, and lifted her head. It was a more formal posture. Her tone, while still polite, ceased to be apologetic. “Something about you saying Cadence would pull funding for the school if you didn’t pass a class.”
“No. I implied Cadence would pull funding for the school if they expelled me for disorderly behavior.”
Twilight frowned. “You think that’s better?”
“I didn’t say it was better or worse.” Light kept her tone level. “But I don’t need to cheat to get good grades. I earned every A+ fair and square. I went off on a professor in the middle of class for being a racist ass, he threatened to expel me, so I threatened him back.”
“That’s still wildly unacceptable behavior! You can’t use my and Cadence’s names that way.” Twilight drew a deep breath. “I could ask them to expel you over this.”
“You could.”
“I could also tell mom.” Twilight snorted. “She could cut you off. Force you to get a job.”
Light shook out her mane, and when she spoke, she spoke firmly. “You could do either of those things, yes. You could also vaporize me or banish me to the moon. But right now all I see you doing is sitting here and talking. Punish me however you want. I can’t stop you. But I’m not going to apologize.”
Twilight didn’t know how to react to that. Her attempts to look away from Light drew her gaze to the statue of herself in the middle of the quad. Another bird was pooping on her head.
“They also tell me you’re a very talented student,” Twilight said. “And a talented wizard too. I’ve heard you can teleport, duplicate images, transmute substances, or control thousands of objects at once.”
“Kind of. My natural talent is art, not magic, so it’s a bit niche.” She tapped her hooves together to count. “I can teleport small items, particularly art supplies, but I can’t teleport myself. I can duplicate images, but not arbitrary objects. And ‘transmuting substances’ mostly means turning paint into water or gas so I can undo a mistake.”
“That’s still more than most unicorns will ever learn.”
“I know! It’s amazing, isn’t it? I assumed I was adopted.” Light held her hoof over her heart. “But it seems, against all odds, I actually am your sister.”
“Yeah. That’s true. That’s true, you are.” Twilight tapped the bench. “I was pretty anti-social and hard to get along with at your age.”
“Maybe you needed to get laid more.”
“I don’t understand, Light!” Twilight snapped. Her head rose to look her sister in the eye.
“You understand fine. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have apologized so profusely earlier.”
“I understand why you’re angry with me. I understand why you’re bitter. I even understand why you don’t want to see me. You have every right not to like me. I get that. I get all that.” Twilight waved a hoof. “But you don’t dislike me. Do you? You hate me. You actually hate me.”
Light froze.
“That,” Twilight said, “that’s what I don’t get. That’s what I don’t understand.”
“Fine. Fine.” Light’s tail lashed. Her hooves shook as she climbed off the bench. “You don’t have to understand it. Okay? Maybe it’s not yours to understand! I didn’t ask Cadence to name the new school center after me. She’s the one who thought it was funny. So I don’t need her help, and I don’t need your help, and I don’t need you to understand. Maybe I just need you to get out of my life.”
“Light—”
“You want to know why I hate you?” Light’s breath came quickly. Her throat tightened, and she struggled not to hyperventilate. “I just do, okay? I just do. So why don’t you leave me alone!?”
Then, Light ran away.
Twilight didn’t chase her.
“Double,” Light said. She was trying not to cry again. “Can you help me, please? I want to go into town tonight. Incognito.”
Double Time was back in her natural form. “I don’t know, Light.”
“Please? I need…” Light sniffled. “I need you to do this one thing. Please.” Her tone turned pleading. “I’ll never ask you for anything again. I just need to get away from this.”
“No. No.” Double Time shook her head. “I don’t mind casting spells for you. But I’m worried about you. In any shape, I’m not sure this is a good time for you to be alone.” She sighed. “I’ll do it, but you have to let me go with you.”
“Having a changeling with me will kind of blow my cover.”
“Oh, wow. If only one of us was a master of disguise.” Double Time was enveloped in green light, and when the spell cleared, a fluffy grey unicorn mare was left standing in her place. Her cutie mark was a fire and a cloud of ashes. “See? We can be buddies. Burner and Smoke.”
“Heh.” Even as her voice cracked, Light smiled. “Are we street artists or a comedy duo?”
“You are pretty funny.” Double Time’s horn glowed, and in a flash, Light was transformed into her alter-ego. “Come on. Let’s go get some chalk.”
“And a few cans of spray paint too,” Light said. “I want to show you something.”
By the summer, devotees of the street-art scene already understood that Burner was not friendly to the royal family. He’d depicted Shining as a painted whore, Cadence as a cruel prankster, and his depiction of Celestia was practically blasphemy. Some ponies wondered if Burner had suffered some injustice at the hooves of an alicorn. His dislike of them seemed more than a young street artist trying to be edgy.
But in the summer, a new Burner piece appeared that broke the trend. It was classy. Sweet. Ponies said it was practically respectful.
It depicted the Princess Twilight Sparkle, looking at the handsome stallion on a nearby advertising billboard. It made an innocent creature of her, with the faint blush in her cheeks, the spread of her hooves, the way her eyes focused and her jaw hung a quarter-inch open. It showed embarrassment and fascination, puppy love and young lust, and the curiosity of a creature who was just discovering what sex and sexuality meant to them.
It also covered the entire south face of the ball-bearing factory, a surface large enough it could be seen clearly half a mile away.
The ponies of Canterlot loved it. Within a month, they were calling Twilight their virgin princess.
Twilight’s visit left Light feeling stressed. Her muscles were tight. Her breathing was shallow. She snapped at ponies and she didn’t know why.
For the whole walk to the downtown, Double barely said a word. She watched Light paint The Virgin Princess in silence. When guards appeared a few blocks away, she grunted and jerked her head, and the two of them left together.
Eventually, they found some steps to sit on and Double said: “So, tell me about Burner.”
“Burner is…” Light frowned and gestured down at his temporarily masculine body. “You know. Me. With a disguise. You know that.”
“Of course Burner is you,” Double chided. She was still in the form of Smoke. “But you are vast, and contain multitudes. Ponies act different ways in different environments. You are Light Step and you are Burner, but Light Step would never spraypaint the side of a building, would she?”
“Um…” Light bit his lip. “No. I guess she wouldn’t.”
“So that’s one difference. Burner is…” She searched for the word. “Brave. Or maybe he just has something to say and doesn’t care about the consequences.”
“Yeah.” For a moment, it looked like Light might go on. But he fell silent, and looked to the stones below them.
“Shhh. None of that.” Double reached out to cup Light’s face. With gentle hooves, she tilted Light’s head up, leaning in close. They were muzzle to muzzle, like they were about to kiss. “Shapeshifting for the first time is scary, I know. It’s emotionally difficult. Sometimes it hurts. But you won’t learn anything if you don’t explore.”
“Oh.” Light laughed a thin laugh. “So this is like, changeling magic?”
For a moment, Double Time didn’t react. Then she smiled a gentle smile. It ruffled Smoke’s fluffy coat. “Sure,” she said. “Is that okay?”
“Completely.” Double’s words were smooth. “So come on, play along and we'll have some fun. Tell me who Burner is.”
“Well, like you said, he’s um… brave. Right?” Light cleared his throat. “And he likes listening to ponies. I pony-watch a lot downtown. Or talk with ponies sitting on benches or steps. They don’t have much to do so they’re happy to talk.”
“Empathetic?”
“Yeah, that’s the word. Feels a…” Light tapped the stone with his hooves. “Feels a lot.”
“Is he an angry pony?”
“Oh, yeah. Pissed.” That made Light laugh. “But he vents it, you know? I mean, I’m mad. Light Step is mad. But a mare can’t just scream and punch somepony in the face and get over it.”
“Does Burner punch ponies in the face?” Double smiled brightly, watching him with rapt interest. They were so close, they could see every detail of each other's eyes. “Or does he paint five-story tall murals just to piss ponies off?”
“I did throw a punch that first night. I guess some situations call for murals and some call for punching.” Light stiffly smiled. Double was so close, he could feel her warm breath running over his face. “So uh… who’s Smoke? She’s not much for personal space, it seems. Really getting up in here.”
“I don’t know!” she replied brightly. “I haven’t had a chance to think about it yet. There are so many people I haven’t gotten to be. She’s got to have an interest in magic, care about pony culture, maybe be a bit of a traditional unicorn. But if I’m going to be following you around the downtown, watching you express yourself all over the buildings, I’m thinking she’s got to be into street art.”
“Well yeah, obviously.” Light stumbled over his words.
“Does Burner like being a famous street artist? Does he like having his name in the papers?”
“Who wouldn’t?” Light spoke quickly. A hot blush rose in his cheeks. “It’s good, right? Seeing ponies admire your work? Actually... think something of you?”
“A stallion likes his fame,” Double said. Light nickered, but before he could reply, Double asked one more question. “So, if he likes being famous, does Burner have groupies?”
“Smoke” was a grey unicorn mare with an exceptionally fluffy coat. Her cutie mark depicted a blazing fire and a cloud of ash, and it matched the color of her mane. She was short, wide in the hips, energetic and overtly feminine. She flicked ponies with her tail.
“Burner” was a bright red unicorn stallion. His cutie mark was a stone brazier with a bright orange flame inside. He was a bit tall, and a bit thin, and he let both his mane and his tail grow long and unkempt. He was attractive, but only when he smiled. His expressive face made others feel what he was feeling.
The silence between them lingered.
Finally, Smoke asked: “Are you going to kiss me or what?”
Burner did.
Light never mentioned the time she and Double slept together in her dorm room. She never explained why she cried after. It was like it didn’t happen. But she talked about graffiti every evening, and asked for Double’s help every weekend.
They were a good pair. Double learned a lot about visual composition, and Light enjoyed getting to explain it. The roles fit their alter-egos well, with Smoke often hanging off of Burner’s side, absorbing his every word. Ponies on the street called her a ditz. She called them bitches. Even days later, just thinking about it made Light laugh.
That’s not to say that Double didn’t contribute. While Light was by far the superior artist of the two, Double had other skills. For instance, breaking and entering.
“Lawless Vandals Deface Canterlot Express!” the headline read, “Experts Say Merciless Criminals Probably On Drugs or In Gang.”
There was a picture of the Canterlot Express. They’d broken into the train yard in the middle of the night and covered the entire side of the #6 train with landscapes. They’d even properly blocked out the windows so there’d be no damage. It took all night, but the ponies of Canterlot woke up to find one of their trains covered with tasteful depictions of fields of flowers.
In those flowers frolicked princesses who had obviously had too much to drink. Some of the alicorns were entirely fictitious, relaxing, laughing, or chugging bottles of wine. A few of them were real. Cadence particularly was vomiting into a bed of daisies while Twilight held her hair.
“Look at this!” Burner said, gesturing to the paper they’d found. They were downtown one Saturday in the middle of fall semester. It was sophomore year. The sun would soon be setting, and their saddlebags were loaded with spray paint. “They called us a ‘disgrace to the capital.’ That’s going to be worth some serious street cred.”
“They called you a disgrace to the capital.” Smoke let out a theatrical sigh as they walked. “I’m the eye candy.”
“Shut your horse mouth.” Burner couldn’t contain his grin. “We are a hard hitting artistic duo.”
Smoke giggled. “So, did you decide what we’re doing tonight?” With a bit of magic off her horn, she pushed through the crowd in front of them, clearing the way as they moved through Canterlot’s busy downtown streets. All around them were ponies, rushing every which way as they concluded their day’s business. Nopony minded the direction they were supposed to walk, leaving the street a crowded mess.
“I was thinking zombies. A shambling mess of them all up and down that new department store.”
“Oooh.” Smoke wiggled her tail. “I like it. Taking a potshot at consumerism. Inspired by that mare who got pneumonia waiting out to be first in line for a sale?”
“Uh. No. Actually.” Burner coughed. “I just like zombies. They’re cool, you know?”
Smoke gave him a narrow look and pursed her lips. She elevated her tail just so. When that wasn’t quite enough to make the message sink in, she lifted an eyebrow as well and intensified her stare.
That did it. Burner cleared his throat. “But, upon further reflection, I’m sure I was subconsciously inspired. By those topical events you mentioned. And other deep, serious, artistic things that look good in newspapers.”
“That’s what I thought.” She smiled and flicked Burner with her tail. “Come on, let’s hurry. We want to get there…”
She trailed off as one of the Royal Guard came into view. He was a pegasus flying over the crowd, and he was looking directly at them. Smoke grabbed Burner by the shoulder and pulled him off the main street. It kept them mostly out of sight, though they made the move too late to prevent the guard from landing near them.
“You two. Hold it right there.” He pointed sharply at their saddlebags. “You planning on doing something with all that paint?”
Burner frowned and glanced down at his saddlebags. The bags were sealed, and while a sharp eye might have noticed the outline of a spraypaint can in the cloth, it was hardly blatant.
Smoke didn’t bother with such introspection. It was not the first time guards had tried to arrest them. “We were on our way to buy tickets for the Royal Guard’s ball,” she said. “Actually, if you’re right here, maybe you could do that for us?” She shoved a bag full of bits at him, discreetly tucking it into his saddle straps. “The tickets are two-hundred each, right? So four hundred for the two of us?”
The guard glanced down at the bag tucked into his straps, then cleared his throat and raised his voice: “Ma’am, trying to bribe an officer of the law is a very serious crime.”
With one of his primary feathers, he pointed behind him. Where he pointed, a pair of crystal ponies were pushing their way through the crowd. Four more unicorn members of the Royal Guard were with them.
“Ah. I see.” Smoke cleared her throat. “Then, please, keep the money as an apology. I’m really sorry. Really sorry.”
Then she took in a breath, horked up something inside her throat, and spat a wad of changeling goo directly into the guard’s face.
The guard let out a muffled shriek and grabbed his face. Ponies in the crowd whirled to look. Burner gaped. Then Smoke grabbed him and shoved him back in the alley behind them: “Run!”
They both broke into a gallop. An officer’s shrill whistle pierced the air. “Stop those ponies!” he shouted.
Minutes ago, Burner and Smoke had gently pushed their way through the crowd. Now, they smashed their way through it, throwing ponies to the side as they barreled up the streets. “Another pegasus,” Smoke shouted. “Stay under cover!”
Burner didn’t see any pegasus, but he did as she said. When they came to another alley, he dived inside and ducked under the rows of hanging laundry. Galloping the whole way, he lept over piles of trash and scrambled over fences, before ducking down a small side passage. For a moment, he felt very clever, knowing that the hanging laundry would make sure no pegasus could follow him or even see where he’d gone.
In the next moment, he realized that he’d also lost Smoke. Then the officer’s whistle sounded again.
Trash exploded out into the street as Burner burst out of the alley. Looking wildly left and right, he couldn’t see any guards, but he could hear them not far behind. He didn’t know which way he was facing, so he picked the direction on the street that seemed to have fewer ponies. For blocks, he sprinted as fast as he could.
Then somepony hissed: “Hey, stallion. Over here!” It was an old pony, sticking his head out of the front door of one of the street’s shabbier apartment blocks. “Come on,” he hurriedly gestured Burner inside.
Burner took the chance without thinking. The door to the apartment building shut and locked behind him, leaving him in a quiet, dingy hallway. It was just him and the old stallion—an earth pony. “You okay?” the old pony asked.
It turned out he was a fan of street art. He loved ponies who “stuck their nose in it.” And one of his friends owned an apartment in a building Burner had graffitied. The price had gone up.
So he invited Burner in for tea until the heat died down. They talked, through the old stallion did most of the talking. Burner learned about his life and his kids. Outside, the sun went down. The stallion’s wife came home, and Burner got to meet her too. She made brownies, and Burner promised to come back and have a word with their granddaughter who loved to draw.
Around nine, there was a knock at the door.
When the old couple opened it, a dozen guards were outside. With them were a pair of crystal ponies, and Princess Cadence.
“You can wait in the hall,” Princess Cadence told the couple.
They did. Burner still hadn’t gotten up from the table, so Cadence sat across from him. He bit his lip and looked down at his hooves. Eighteen hours remained before he turned back into Light Step.
Burner’s heart pounded in his chest, so loud he could barely hear himself breathe. Options flashed through his head, ranging from leaping out the window to begging for mercy. His eyes stung, and tears started to form inside them.
But then Double Time’s words ran through his mind. It was changeling magic, he thought. Don’t break character.
So he lifted his head and looked Cadence in the eye. With a flick of his eyes he glanced at the table, then back to her, and with a voice lanced with contempt said: “Well, this is dramatic.”
“If you don’t care for the venue,” Cadence replied tartly, “we could have this talk in a courtroom instead.”
“You’ve got me on, what? A few charges of vandalism? Most of which won’t stick since the owners won’t press charges. One count of breaking and entering.” He snorted. “I’ll do six months, tops.”
“We could skip the trial.”
“That’s true!” Burner gestured at her, and his tone took a turn for the upbeat. “You could have me thrown into a dungeon in the place you banished me to.”
He let things hang there. Cadence stared at him. He levitated one of the brownies off the table. “You should take one. They’re really good.”
“Fine.” Cadence sighed and rubbed her jaw. “Fine.”
“Take it as a compliment that I did not think you’d have a pony jailed for embarrassing you in public.” Burner shrugged, taking a bite out of his brownie. “You’re nice like that.”
“You’ve had a lot of very unkind things to say about me in the last year.” Cadence stared at him. “And my husband. And my sister-in-law. Things you said in public. And I suppose you’re right. Embarrassing me isn’t a crime, and I don’t think it should be a crime. So you’re going to get your slap on the ankles and go home.”
Burner shrugged again, but before he could say more, Cadence went on: “But I do want to know what it is exactly that I did to you. I think you owe me that.”
Burner didn’t think. The words came out on their own, and his thoughts only followed: “You pretended to be one of us.”
A smiled brushed his face, and he went on. “Like, I get it. You were born mortal. A pegasus, right? Whatever. You were nopony. You could go shopping and stop by a store and buy something because it was cute, and nopony would put a sign in the window advertising that Cadence once shopped here. You could get drunk and it wouldn’t end up on the front pages. When you screwed up, you could honestly comfort yourself that nopony gave a damn.”
He gestured vaguely in her direction, stalling for time as he finished the brownie. “And that’s great. It’s amazing. I love being nopony. And I totally get why you want that back. Why you want to be that mare. But you’re not that mare.” He laughed and tapped his forehead. “When you get drunk, you can start wars. Your fetish for watching your husband do other mares is national news because it saved a kingdom from being enslaved. If you comment that two ponies don’t seem like a great couple, they get divorced.”
Cadence sat there stone-faced as Burner wildly gestured with both forelegs. “They get divorced! Because you’re the Princess of Love. You get it? You’re a giant in this world. You are spiritually, metaphorically, whatever, huge. So big you can crush things by bumping into them. Institutions, countries, people. But you don’t want to be a giant. You want to be this down to earth mare. You’re a mare with a healthy relationship with a husband she respects as an equal. A mare who fixes things with her own hooves. A mare who can confront her accusers instead of taking it like a lame politician.”
Burner held his pose for a moment, legs outstretched. The smile on his face grew stiffer and stiffer, until it became a grimace. “But you’re not that mare. Because one day you’re going to outlive your husband. Because your insistence on fixing everything yourself is why your country’s military is a joke. And because you showed up outside an old couple’s house with a pack of goons and told them to ‘wait in the hall.’ I get that you’d never explicitly threaten them. I get you probably didn’t see it as anything but your royal prerogative. But what your body language said is, ‘get in the hall or I’ll throw you out of your own home.’ And now they’re afraid. Ponies are supposed to love their princesses and they’re afraid of you. You bumped into something and you broke it.”
Finally done, Burner let out a long breath and slumped back into his chair. “You broke it,” he repeated, looking off at the window.
“Alright,” Cadence said. Her expression hadn’t changed once throughout the entire speech.
Burner’s head snapped back: “That’s it?” His eye narrowed and his tone turned sharp. “That’s all you have to fucking say? Alright?”
“I don’t know what you expect me to say. That’s a pretty good reason to be mad at somepony. I don’t even think you’re entirely wrong. I’m a person, not the abstract ideal of a princess. Sometimes I need to be that pony again or I’ll go insane. But…” She glanced around the old couple’s apartment. “I make mistakes.”
“Fine.” Burner drew in a breath between his teeth. “Well. I’m glad I could answer your questions. Do you have any more, or is this where you arrest me?”
Cadence scrunched up her muzzle, giving Burner a quizzical look from across the table. “You’re really not afraid of being arrested?”
“I already told you. Six months tops.”
That produced a humorless laugh, and Cadence tilted her head to the side. “This isn’t how I thought this conversation would go. I thought you’d fold like wet sponge under serious pressure. But you’re playing this character to the hilt.”
Cadenced paused for a moment, watching the stallion across the table. She saw his face freeze. “Sorry, Light. But after shapeshifters nearly enslaved me twice, I thought I should take some additional precautions. Nice spell, by the way. Whoever your changeling friend is, they’re a gifted wizard.”
She rose from the table and stretched. “I’m not going to arrest you. But, Thanksgiving is in a few weeks. And when you come home, I want you to say sorry to Twilight. She’s been under so much stress because of that mural you made of her. Ponies won’t stop asking her to smile and blush for photos. She's so frustrated she cried. You understand?”
When there was no answer, Cadence sharpened her tone: “I said, do you understand me?”
“Yes,” Light replied, turning to stare at the floor. “I understand.”
When Light got back to her dorm room, Double’s things were gone.
It was like nopony had ever lived on the room’s right side. The bed was made. The furniture was spotless. The closet and the drawers were empty.
So she lay down on her bed and curled up into a ball. Light hugged her pillow like a lover, and cried into it. Outside was the statue of her sister, lit up by little lights as its base. Eventually, she ran out of tears and fell asleep.
She was awoken by a sharp tapping at her window. Her eyes flew open, and she was momentarily blinded by the bright light around her. The sun had risen. Hovering outside her window was a neon pink pegasus mare, with a washed out yellow mane and painted yellow hooves.
Light leapt across her bed so fast she nearly fell, fumbling with the window with both hooves. She snarled in frustration, and when the latch finally clicked, she slammed it up and open. “Don’t ever scare me like that!” she shouted, voice rough around the edges. “What if you’d been gone forever, huh?”
“Hey hey. None of that.” The pegasus mare outside the window reached out to stroke Light’s cheek with a hoof. “What would you have done if I’d just been some random pegasus, huh?”
“When was the last time a real pegasus knocked on our window?” Light clung to Double’s outstretched hoof with both forelegs. She nuzzled her cheek against it. “Come on. Come inside. We’ll talk.”
“Sure.” Double smiled gently. Her tone was soft and sweet. “But tell me something first. How is it you aren’t in prison? You were gone for so long I was sure you were caught.”
“I…” Light bit her lip. During the pause, she lifted her head properly, though she didn’t let go of Double’s hoof. “Cadence caught me. She was there. Personally. She’s the reason so many guards were after us.”
“Did you confess?”
“No. But she had a spell, or something.” Light needed a moment to go on, and strain began to show itself in her tone. “She could see through my disguise. She let me do this whole routine as Burner. Let me make an idiot of myself. Then she dropped that she knew who I was the whole time.” Light drew in a shaking breath. “And she said she’d let me go. But… that I had to apologize to Twilight.”
“Oh. But none of that’s legal. I assume she didn’t actually get the charges dropped? She just unofficially asked the guards to look the other way?” Double asked. Light nodded, quickly.
“Sorry, Light. But ah… unless you asked Cadence to pardon me, I’m still wanted for assault on an officer of the law. Bribing a public official. Resisting arrest. Vandalism. Breaking and entering.” She waved a hoof. “I think it’s time to change identities. Don’t worry. I did this for a living for a long time. I’ll be fine. Might even go to the same school.”
“Oh.” Light sniffled. Her eyes flicked over Double, searching for something in the face of the strange pegasus outside her window. “So, you’ll still be around.”
“Yeah. But ah…” She let out a small, joyless laugh. “You won’t recognize me.”
“No. No. Double, please.” Light’s tone turned pleading. Soon she begging, clinging to Double’s leg like a drowning mare clinging to driftwood. Her eyes, still bloodshot from last night, filled with tears again. “Please don’t. Please, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I got you into this.”
“Light—”
“Please don’t leave me!” She shouted the words so loud they echoed across the quad. Ponies turned to stare.
Light’s breath caught in her throat. She covered her mouth with a hoof, and her wide eyes instinctively flicked over the quad. She saw the ponies who saw her.
“Shh.” Double gently stroked Light’s cheek. Light’s gaze snapped back to her like her head was on a spring. “Listen for a moment, okay? I know listening isn’t your strong point, but try.”
When Light nodded, Double went on.“Getting in trouble with the law certainly changed things. I wasn’t planning on ditching this identity. But I was already planning on asking for another roommate next term.”
Double let her last sentence hang a moment before she went on: “You know what I am, right? Under the disguise? And you know what I can do?”
“I mean, yeah.” Light let out a soft squeak. “I mean. What do you mean?”
“I mean you’re falling in love. That’s not an opinion. I’m stating an objective fact. I can smell you falling in love with me.” She brushed a bit of bed fluff off of Light’s coat. “And it smells like old cheese. It smells like something dead left out in the sun. It smells like codependence and insecurity and a need to be validated.”
“Fuck you.” Light snapped, but the words were quiet and came out breathless. “I’ll… you don’t know me. We’re just friends.”
“We’re lovers.” Double’s tone lost it’s gentleness, momentarily turning callous. “Or do you let all your friends mount you?”
It would have shocked Light less if Double had hit her. Her eyes went wide and her breath froze in her throat. She struggled to form words.
“This is what I mean.” Double said, the softness in her voice returning as quickly as it had gone. “I care about you. I do. We really are friends and I really will miss you. But for you, that day was special. It had emotional weight and significance. But for me? That was a day I did a friend a favor and in return they gave me lunch. And they got really emotional about it.”
“No…” Light squeezed her eyes shut. Tears ran down her face. “No. Shut up.”
“Romance is something I do for compensation. Not because I enjoy it. That’s true of sex, of kissing, of nuzzling, and of Smoke flicking Burner with her tail. That compensation is exotic food instead of money, but you weren’t totally wrong when you called me a whore.”
“I don’t care about being physical!” Light snapped, her eyes flying open. Her voice again echoed across the quad. She didn’t care. “You’re my only friend. You’re my only friend and I need you. How can you do this to me?”
“Because you need me. I wanted to help you. I didn’t want to become your crutch so you didn’t have to face your problems.” She drew in a breath. Then her voice turned harsh. “For the heaven’s sake, Light. Look at yourself!”
Double pushed her way into the window frame. Light Step fell backwards onto the bed, blinking to clear her eyes. “You committed vandalism,” Double said, her tone hard. “Breaking and entering. Fraud, depending how they count the disguise. Resisting arrest. Assault on an officer of the law. Accomplice to bribery. You did enough to put you away for years. And all that, all that gets washed away. You were practically given a reprieve of execution! And all you have to do in return for that immense gift is say ‘I’m sorry’ at a family dinner.”
Light stared wide and uncomprehending eyes. Double glowered, and let the silence hang.
Eventually Light found the words: “It’s not like that.”
“Then tell me that you definitely will say you’re sorry to Twilight.” Double firstly poked Light’s chest with a hoof. “That you’re not going to let spite do your thinking for you and decide you’d rather go to prison than admit you were wrong.”
“Don’t you fucking touch me.” Light slapped Double’s hoof away. “Don’t you…” She drew a tight breath. “Just don’t!”
“Would Burner react that way to getting poked in the chest?”
“Burner isn’t real!” Light shouted, squeezing her eyes shut to force the tears away. “He’s a fucking character.”
“Burner is you. Burner is you when you get over yourself. You can’t fake caring about ponies. You are empathetic. You are kind.” She hammered home the words. “You are the sort of pony who listens to an old stallion on the street corner for hours just because you know nopony else will.”
With a sweep of her hoof, she took in Light and the bed beneath her. “But Light Step is also you. Light Step is you when you can’t get over yourself. She’s a cruel, spiteful, neurotic wreck who is universally despised by her peers. She’s a smug, vain noblepony who uses her family connections to hurt people who cross her. She’s somepony so broken inside she falls apart sobbing at the thought that she might have to show the slightest humility.”
Silence hung between them.
It was Double’s turn to break it. “You are vast. You contain many ponies. Decide which of them you want to be. But I’m not going to pick for you, and I’m not going to be your crutch to avoid making the choice.”
Then she shoved backwards out the window.
Light sat frozen for a moment. Then she rushed to the window, “Wait!” she called out.
But the little pink pegasus turned into the sky and flew away. She never looked back.
It was snowing when Light arrived at the Sparkle family house. Not much, just a few flakes—a slight unseasonable flurry.
“Oh my gosh,” a passing mare complained, glaring upwards at the weather team. “Thanksgiving isn’t even over yet and they’re already starting Hearthswarming celebrations.”
Light ignored her. From across the street, she could see inside through her family’s living room window. Everypony else had arrived last night. She was the only one who had planned to walk home the day of the dinner itself.
Shining was in the living room, playing with Flurry Heart. Cadence, her mother, and her father were all moving back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room as they prepared dinner. Twilight was flying indoors again, zipping from room to room. Light could only see the occasional purple flash in the windows, but from how quickly Twilight was moving upstairs to downstairs, Light thought she had probably lost something.
Twilight got pretty frazzled when she lost something.
Light stood out in the snow for over an hour, until the Canterlot Belltower struck seven. That was when dinner was supposed to start. If she didn’t cross the street shortly, she’d be late.
So she left.
Walking through the streets of Canterlot, she eventually found a guardsman standing on a corner. “Excuse me,” she said, “I’m a criminal. I’d like to turn myself in.”
Light was woken up by somepony banging on the bars of her cell. Her eyes cracked open and she squinted into the cellblock’s artificial lights. Two vague outlines stood outside her cell, and she rubbed at her eyes in an attempt to clear them.
The cell had no clocks, but the lack of sunlight coming in through her window made it clear it was the same day. To her, it felt like two or three AM.
“Hey, you,” said the purple blur outside her cell. It was Twilight. “How you doing?”
The cell door slammed open. Squinting again made Light’s vision clear a little—enough to make out her sister and one of the guards. Twilight walked into the cell, and Light sat up on her bunk to make room. She didn’t have a cellmate.
“How did you find me?” Light asked, coughing a bit as she woke herself up. “I gave them a fake name and my only contact was a public defender.”
“One of the officers recognized you.” Twilight gestured vaguely in the direction of the rest of the jail. “They sent a runner down to the house to get Shining.”
“So why isn’t Shining here?”
“Because we left at the same time, and I have wings and he doesn’t.” Twilight fluffed her wings up for emphasis. “So, come on.” She kept her tone light, and even smiled. “What’s up? They said you turned yourself in for a bunch of things: assault, bribery, disturbing the peace.”
When Light didn’t answer, Twilight continued: “I mean, those don’t sound like you. I know, you get your moods sometimes. But that just comes with being an artist. Is this… um. Performance art? Come on, what happened?”
Light took in a breath, let it out, and looked Twilight square in the eye. Then she said: “I fell in love with a whore and she told me it was just about the money.”
Twilight blinked. “Oh,” she said.
After a moment, she added, “Um.”
When Light continued to stare, Twilight spoke to fill the silence. “That’s um. I mean, we call them prostitutes. Not whores. It’s a legal profession in some jurisdictions. If properly licensed. And while it is associated with some of the seeder parts of society as well as unhealthy relationships, um… demonizing individuals who are part of the sex trade only makes things worse.”
Then Twilight rubbed the back of her head. She let a breath in and out. “Uh… so is that why you’re here? Did you pick a fight? With a prostitute? Because you shouldn’t, um. You shouldn't fight prostitutes, Light.”
“She was a changeling,” Light said, bracing her shoulders like she was expecting a physical blow. “And she cast a disguise spell on me so I could pretend to be a street artist and I’m the one who did that mural. All of the murals. Including the virgin princess one. And the one with Shining in makeup. And the one on the train where you’re holding Cadence’s hair as she throws up. And when the guards caught us, we sucker-punched one and ran.”
“Ah.” Twilight blinked a few times as she processed that. Then she cleared her throat. “Well, that’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.”
Twilight’s hooves fiddled as she spoke. “You just let a… shifty figure influence you too much. Changelings can be bad news. Not that I have anything against them. Thorax is great! I’m just saying that Queen Amaryllis’s hive is more like half-reformed. I bet that bad influence was from up north.”
“Twilight.” Light’s tone sharpened, and she pointed at herself. “I was the instigator. I turned myself in because I’m taking responsibility for my actions.”
“No. No. We’re not ruining your entire life over a little bit of graffiti. And you know! Shining looks good in makeup. Cadence likes it.” Twilight rose from where she sat, and stiffly walked over towards the guard. “Excuse me!” she called, her voice artificially friendly. It actually cracked, like she was going through puberty all over again. “My sister and I will be leaving now.”
“Um… no?” The guard snorted. “She’s a prisoner.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Twilight smiled a wide smile and locked eyes with him. “Who do I need to call to get her released? The Captain of the Guard? Princess Celestia? Or just the nearest officer who serves by royal appointment?”
When he didn’t answer, she glanced at his armor as if seeing it for the first time. “Oh. Oh, you’re an officer in the Royal Guard. Sorry, I mistook you for an enlisted pony. But doesn’t that mean you serve by royal appointment?”
“I, um…” The guard stammered.
“For heaven’s sake.” Light snapped at the guard, curling her lip back in disgust. “Have some dignity.”
“I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat and bowed to Twilight. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. Uh… the paperwork says that tonight we booked a mare named Blank Slate. That’s the name she gave. I’m sure we could… that is. There’s no reason for us to update things to say Light Step was ever here.”
“Wonderful. Thank you.” Twilight glanced back into the cell. “Come on.”
Light braced herself against her cot. Raising her voice, she snarled: “I’m not going anywhere.”
Then Twilight’s horn glowed, and Light glowed, and Light's legs were forcefully unhooked from the cot. She levitated, floated along like Twilight’s luggage, helpless in the air. Twilight trotted out into the street, looking each way before turning back towards the house.
“We’ll meet Shining on the way there,” she explained, voice still stiff. “Assuming he took the main street.”
“Do you think Shining ever worries about the rampant corruption in the Royal Guard?” Light asked. “I paid a lot of officers to look the other way when they caught me spraypainting a wall.”
“It’s not bribery. I didn’t give him anything.” Twilight let out a stiff breath. “Let’s not talk about this right now.”
“No. You didn’t bribe him. You threatened him.” Light said, still floating helplessly behind Twilight. “A changeling soldier wouldn’t have folded like that. Not in the face of a superior who was obviously breaking the law themselves. They’d probably have detained you just for trying.”
Flicking her eyes over to Twilight, Light asked: “Do you think maybe that’s why they kicked the Royal Guard’s flanks three times in a row?”
“I don’t know, Light.” Twilight said, her voice high and reedy. She looked up at the darkened sky as they marched through the mostly empty streets. “I haven't given much thought to military history tonight. But it’s good to know you identify so strongly with changeling culture. You’re a very multicultural young mare.”
“Your voice cracked when you threatened him.”
“Yes, I know.” Twilight said, her tone upbeat even as she spoke through clenched teeth.
“You sounded like you were sixteen.”
Twilight stopped mid-step. Her voice dropped to a growl. “Well, I’m not sixteen.”
“You look sixteen.” Light replied, her voice sing-song and saccharine sweet. “You act sixteen. Still getting all hyperactive and emotional when you lose things. Running around the house like mom sent you to fetch something. Hanging out with your gal pals after a hard day.” She giggled. “And when a guard challenges you, you can’t just smile and pull rank. You’ve got to slap him down hard. Go full power. Work those insecurities, mare, there might be a few ponies who haven’t seen them yet.”
“So, tell me something.” Still floating in the air, Light folded her hooves under her chin like she was lying across a divan. “Does the virgin princess thing bother you because ponies think you’re eternally immature? Or does it bother you because you think you might be? You look eternally sixteen outside. Maybe it’s not skin deep. You might actually be a dumb teenager forever.”
And when Twilight didn’t say anything, Light spoke again, and in tones of the most innocent curiosity she asked: “Do you think I captured your essence?”
“I said, shut up!” The light on Twilight’s horn flared, and she tossed Light away. Light shrieked as she found herself suddenly in free fall, and tumbled a few feet to cobblestones. The few ponies out on the street started as Twilight whirled to face her sister, her face a twisted mask of rage. Through clenched teeth she hissed: “You are a childish, selfish, cruel, bitter emotional parasite. You turn Thanksgiving and every other holiday into an all-consuming black hole of drama and misery. I was glad when you didn’t show up this evening, because it meant I actually got to enjoy time with my parents.”
Lying on the ground, Light needed a moment to pick herself up. Defiant, she shook the bits of dirt out of her mane. “Then why didn’t you leave me in that cell?”
“Because you’re my sister.” Twilight spat out the words. “That means I’m obligated to love you. It means I’m obligated to love you even when you very obviously don’t love me. You don’t love anypony other than yourself.”
“Heh.” Light snorted. “Wow.” She rolled to her hooves. “You know, I um… I think that’s the first time you ever actually told me what you think of me. Instead of smiling and saying ‘it’s fine.’”
“Well! I hope you learned something from the experience.” Twilight sneered. “Now are you walking home quietly or do I have to bind and gag you?”
“I can walk.”
Ignoring the handful of ponies still staring at them, they turned and walked down the street together. Streetlights lit their way, each surrounded by a dull haze. There were only a few ponies going the other direction, and none that they could see were Shining Armor.
“Don’t bring any of this up to Shining,” Twilight said. “Make something up. He’s been having a bad time and he and Cadence really need the holiday off.”
“Aww. Did Queen Amaryllis whip him again? I mean in the military sense, not in the bedroom.”
“Why are you like this?” Twilight squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and shook out her mane.
“Because Shining is a bad officer.” Light picked up her pace so she could march shoulder to shoulder with Twilight instead of one step behind her. “Both of the military organizations he’s led are corrupt and incompetent. He’s lost every major battle he’s ever fought, including three battles with changelings: Canterlot Invasion, Queen Chrysalis's return, Northern Invasion. When Tirek appeared, the guard didn’t even slow him down.”
“He saved Canterlot from Queen Chrysalis.” Twilight snapped out the words. “He helped vanquish King Sombra. He averted a war between two kingdoms and reformed a changeling hive. Shining,” she raised her voice, “is a hero!”
“I know he’s a hero.” Light shrugged, unmoved. “He’s an incredible warrior. He’s a powerful shield mage. He’s a diplomat. From everything Cadence says, he’s a devoted husband. And he’s a good pony.”
“Then could you please give him an easy time tonight?”
“Sure. Could he resign as Captain of the Guard to focus on all that warrior-mage-diplomat-loving he’s so good at? So somepony who understands bureaucracy and military organization can do the officer thing for him?”
Twilight marched in silence for several steps. Her tail flicked behind her, and she let out a soft knicker.
“Okay, Light?” she finally said, and though her tone was hard, it wasn’t as hot as it had been a moment ago. “Nopony ever told you about this, because you’re a brat, and we don’t include you in family discussions. But it’s difficult for a princess to marry a commoner. Senior military officers are different. So Celestia gave him a nice title, and everything worked out for the best.”
“So it’s honorary?”
“Kind of.” Twilight let out a breath. “It’s complicated, okay?”
“Like how there’s a statue of you on the quad of an art college even though you’re not an artist? Or a patron of the arts?” Light assumed a faux-thoughtful expression. “Honestly, I’m not sure if you’ve ever set hoof in an art museum.”
“I gave a lot of money to the school.”
“I didn’t know you were rich.”
Twilight hissed. “Fine. The crown gave a bunch of money to the school in my name. What does it matter?”
“Did you pick the school yourself, or did a bureaucrat pick it for you?” When it seemed that Twilight was about to reply, Light cut her off. “I get why Celestia wants the common people to think you’re a deity. I even get why you’d want it. Fame is awesome. But why are you lying to me? I know you.”
“Because the last time I gave you a personal secret,” the words emerged clipped, “you betrayed me in front of the entire city. Do you know what happened because of your little private art collection?”
With a shaking hoof, Twilight paused to gesture at herself. “I got asked in front of ten thousand ponies if I’d ever let a stallion feel me up. The follow up question was if Equestria can trust me to be a representative to the deer. Because you know those bucks!” She clicked her tongue and winked an eye. “With the antlers and the little tails. They drive the fillies these days crazy. Who knows what it could do to my judgement? I was humiliated. And you know what happens to ponies when they’re embarrassed?”
She jabbed a hoof at her own face: “I blushed. They asked me a question about stallions and I blushed!” She shouted the last word so sharply her voice cracked again.
“Yeah.” Light shrugged. “That sounds really traumatizing. Like the sort of scarring experience that would leave you in tears. I can totally see why you cried into Cadence’s shoulder after. On a related note, a few days later, Cadence had a dozen guards hold me down and said she’d send me to prison if I didn’t apologize.”
Twilight’s expression flicked. “Cadence wouldn’t do that.”
“You think she wouldn’t? Wow, Twilight,” Light said, her voice rising high. “Turns out that telling self-aggrandizing lies about what kind of pony you are runs in the family. The royal family. Get it? It-”
Twilight slapped light across the cheek. Not particularly hard. There was a barely audible clap on impact.
Both of them froze. Light’s eyes were wide. Twilight stared at her hoof like she couldn’t believe what just happened.
Then with a shaking voice, Twilight said: “Find your own way home.” She left Light behind.
Light didn’t bother. She went back to her dorm room. The next day, she stayed in bed all day, curled up under her blankets. When she got tired of looking at the statue, she rolled over and looked at Double’s empty bed.
With everypony away for the holidays, the dorm was nearly empty. The campus eateries were closed too, but Light kept her dorm room messy. She found an old box of cereal and a slightly moldy piece of crumb cake, and cut the mold off.
It wasn’t like Double was going to complain about her eating in bed again.
Late in the afternoon, there was a knock at the door. Light buried her head in her pillow and shouted for whoever it was to go away. Twilight opened the door anyway. Light had forgotten to lock it last night.
“Hey,” Twilight said, poking her head into the room. She spotted the empty bed and frowned. “Um. I had a talk with Cadence. Well. Not a talk. More like a fight.”
“Stood up for yourself, did you?” Light added a sneer to the words.
“I guess.” Twilight stepped inside and sat on the edge of Double’s bed. “I know that she wanted to protect me. She’s just trying to be my… caring foalsitter. Or my mentor. Or the big sister I never had. But using her official power to threaten you was wrong. It was beneath her. And I think it’s the angriest I’ve ever been with her. And I didn’t know, but she was acting on my behalf, so…” Twilight cleared her throat. “I’m sorry.”
Light stared at her across the room. Silence rested between them. First for five seconds. Then ten. Then thirty.
Twilight got up to leave: “Well, I should—”
“I’m sorry too,” Light spoke quickly. “I’m sorry I humiliated you in front of an entire country. I’m sorry I betrayed you. I didn’t have a reason. Other than that I was mad and jealous and spiteful, and that sometimes I’m kind of a garbage pony. And I know that’s a terrible apology, but for whatever it’s worth, it’s true. I’m actually sorry. And I wish I hadn’t done it.”
Her body still under the cover, Light shut her eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve been a terrible sister.”
“No, I’m sorry. I’ve been the terrible sister and…” Gradually, Twilight trailed off. She frowned, took in a breath, and started again: “Actually, I’ve been a pretty good sister, and you’re mostly a…” It took Twilight a few moments to work herself up to curse. “Very unpleasant mare.” She failed.
Light laughed. “You can say ‘bitch,’ Twilight.” Her tone was oddly pleased. She even opened her eyes again, and a moment later, sat up. “Thanks.”
“I am sorry though.” Twilight cleared her throat. “About the statue. And about… about letting you grow up with Her Immortal Highness, The Princess Twilight Sparkle as an older sister. Instead of me.”
“Double Time was my roommate. The changeling.” Light gestured to the bed. “She had a spell that disguised me as somepony else. It was how I did my graffiti, but mostly I liked it because it let me not… not be myself. Not be this toxic person. Be nopony, instead of the young sister of an alicorn. And that was all I needed to not be such garbage. The only thing holding me back was who I thought I was. So I guess…”
Light blinked once. She licked her lips. “I’m saying, I see how Her Immortal Highness steps on you even harder than she steps on me.”
“Yeah.” Twilight glanced out the window. “It really is an ugly statue.”
Light laughed. “It’s not.”
“It makes my hindquarters look huge.”
“But not in a bad way.” Light quickly held up a hoof. “I’m just saying, it doesn’t make you look sixteen.”
Twilight averted her eyes, looking down to the floor. “So um… you going to be okay?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I’m really messed up. I have no friends, all my peers hate me, both of those things are entirely my own fault, and the only pony I’ve ever dated was an asexual shapeshifter. Oh, and I was the stallion and she was the mare.” Light rubbed at her face. “I think I might be gay. Or something? I don’t know. Maybe it’s magic. It probably says some worrying things about what’s going on in my head.”
“I…” Twilight fiddled with the sheets. “Have no idea how to respond to that.”
“You’re not supposed to.” Brushing the cake crumbs away from her legs, Light asked: “What about you? Are you going to be okay?”
“Cadence and Shining and I are a bit on the rocks right now, but we’ll get over it. And my reputation will recover.”
“Good. I’m glad.” Light drew in a tight breath. “Twilight, I’m sure… next Thanksgiving will also be horrible. I am kind of a bitch. I don’t think that’s going to go away overnight. I’m sure we’ll fight. A lot. But.. I…”
Her voice cracked. She stared at the floor. “I love you. You’re my sister and I love you and I’ve always loved you and looked up to you and… and I think you’re amazing and it’s why I’m always so jealous.”
“Heh.” Twilight licked her lips and smiled. “I love you too, Light.” And in the middle of Light’s dorm room, they hugged.
