It didn’t matter how many of them she did or how many went well. No matter how friendly the press or how thorough her training, the thought of being in front of reporters made her heart flutter. Self-consciousness could be difficult for her. It made her pace, and preen her wings when they were already neat.
But she had a system. A checklist. She could remember to go through the checklist, and if everything on the list was in good order, she would feel good as well.
Item 1: Interview Questions
Have you reviewed the interview questions in advance?
Is the censor there? Do they think the questions are fair?
Have you written cliff notes on how to answer each one? One paragraph or less so you don’t have to check your notes in the middle.
Twilight checked over her notes, and confirmed that every question was there. She had a summary answer for each one. And she knew the censor. His name was Black Out, and he was friends with the reporter. More than friends, Twilight suspected.
They kissed a lot, that is. Which was good. When the censor and the reporter were friendly, the result was always better. Twilight marked Item 1 as complete, and felt a little better.
Item 2: Personal Appearance
Are there going to be cameras and/or a live audience at this event? (If no, skip Item 2 and proceed directly to Appendix 1: Optional Questions, Section 3)
Have the royal designer ponies approved everything you’re wearing? (Saddle bags, jewelry, crown, etc)
Is your mane brushed to the makeup ponies' satisfaction?
Did you make sure your eyeshadow is on straight?
And so it went. Item 2 got all the way to J before Twilight marked it as done. It made her feel better, just as checking off Items 3, 4, 5, and 6 made her feel better. The last item, Item 7, was the shortest of them all.
Item 7: Emotional Support
Is a good friend or family member there in case you need the help?
Twilight had both. Light Step and Double Time were both attending -- sitting together across the room with their hooves intertwined. Twilight smiled and waved, and Light smiled and waved back. Double looked at the floor. She wasn’t the waving type.
By the time the interview started, Twilight was something approaching calm.
“And,” a camera pony raised a leg. “Go.” The reels of film inside the cameras started to turn, the soft chopping of the sprockets filled the air, and Twilight smiled at the reporter.
“Your highness,” the reporter said, bowing low to the floor. His name was Op Ed. “Welcome to my program. It’s a pleasure to have you here tonight.”
“Mr. Ed,” Twilight bowed her head a fraction of an inch. Enough to be respectful, without implying an equivalence between them. “The pleasure is all mine. I’m quite the fan of your work.”
They exchanged pleasantries. Op asked how Twilight was doing, about her most recent friendship adventure, and about her decision to dye the tips of her wings like all the young pegasi were doing these days. She asked him about his show, his family, and about the new sitcom he was developing.
There was one small snag, when he asked about the war and Twilight said it was “terrible.” But Black Out stepped in and paused the cameras, they briefed her, and recorded it again with Twilight saying: “It’s terrible what Queen Amaryllis is doing to our crystal pony friends.” So no harm came of it.
After the opening was done, Op got to the meat of the interview. Shifting seamlessly from an anecdote about his son, he asked: “So, if I wanted to marry him up in the world, are you available? I promise, he’s very eligible.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Twilight blushed, but her notes said she was supposed to blush at that question. “How old is he?”
“How old are you?” And there was it.
“I’m sixteen. Can’t you tell?” Twilight flashed her wings with the colored tips to the cameras, and both she and Op Ed smiled. “But no, seriously, I’m thirty-eight. I just don’t always act it.”
“So tell me, how does that work?” He folded one hoof over the other, leaning forward on his desk. “Because ponies have so many questions.”
“Oh, trust me, I know.” Twilight sighed and rolled her eyes. “You know, I once had a pony walk up to me on the street, stare at my head and go, ‘so you can’t ever grow up?’ And I pause and say, I guess, why are you asking? And they go ‘so that’s basically a magical lobotomy, right?’”
Op Ed snorted his coffee. Twilight laughed, and they both riffed on the joke for a second. “And no! No. Of course not.” She pressed her hoof to her chest. “My mind is probably sharper than yours -- no offense. I learn, I grow, I assimilate new information. And I make new friends. But, biologically, developmentally, I’m this age forever.”
“I’m sure our viewers would love to hear an example.”
“Sure, here’s an easy one — coffee.” Twilight lifted a hoof. “When I ascended and became an alicorn, I was iffy about coffee. I didn’t know if it was for me. I was more of a tea sort of mare. Tried it later, turns out, I love coffee. It’s amazing.”
“I heard Ponyville has a Starbucks now.”
“Don’t start that joke again.” She flicked a hoof his way. “But every morning when I wake up I still feel uncertain about coffee. Because that was my emotional state then, and so that’s my state for good. I remember that I like coffee, I remember how coffee tastes, but somehow…” She drew the word out. “I don’t know! I’m a little nervous.”
“Well, that sounds like a mild inconvenience if ever I heard one.” He flashed the camera a winning smile. “And how do you deal with it?”
“I have a system. It’s very simple. I put a sticky note on the coffee machine that says, ‘you like coffee.’ I see it every morning and remember, oh right! So I do.”
The conversation between them paused for a half a second. Twilight’s smile turned stiff. “It can be a little bit of a pain, but it’s a small price to pay for life eternal.”
Twilight flew home from Canterlot under her own power. She didn’t feel like taking the train, and it had been a little while since she got to stretch her wings. She landed on the castle balcony, and carefully nudged open the door to the bedroom. It was dark by the time she arrived, and the thin shaft of moonlight from the door cast long shadows in the unlit interior.
Her horn glowed, and the lamps came alight.
Every single object in her bedroom was covered in at least three sticky notes. Some were carpeted, floor to ceiling. The pegboard on the wall had so many items hung on it that it threatened to fall from its mount.
Twilight grimaced. “Maybe this new system isn’t working out so well.” She took in a deep breath. “Spike!”
No creature answered her. The castle was empty.
“Right.” Twilight let out a slow breath. “Spike’s gone now. Okay, that’s fine. I need to get a new assistant. I’ll just…”
She pulled a sticky note from a pad, and with flawless penmanship wrote: Need a new assistant. Hire a replacement for Spike.
She looked around the room, scanned its nooks and crevices, and found a place on her nightstand that didn’t have any paper yet. “I’ll put it here so I don’t forget.”
Far in the north, a terrible war raged. What began as a petty border dispute had spiraled out of control, beyond what any of the combatants had imagined. Changelings, ponies, griffons, yak, and diamond dogs all fought for survival, and every race and tribe fought on both sides of the conflict. Sister turned on sister and children turned on their parents.
During the conflict, Shining would go on to avenge his defeat at the hands of Queen Amaryllis, so many years ago. Flurry Heart would earn the honorific “The Warrior-Princess of the Crystal Empire.” Even Twilight’s old students joined the fight, reunited on the field of battle.
“Yona!” Smoulder would shout, no longer a young thing, but a fire breathing lizard the size of a large wagon. “What are you doing? You’re on the side fighting against Equestria. Why are you working for this toolbox?”
Yona, when the time came, would straighten the cap of her menacing black uniform. “Princess Flurry Heart is a tyrant! Amaryllis is great leader who restore dignity and prosperity to Yak.”
“Oh no!” Silverstream would cry. “She’s been, like, totally brainwashed. Amaryllis used her evil changeling powers to warp her mind.”
Then Yona would shout, “Yak blitzkreig!”
But on the night Twilight returned home from her interview, none of that had happened yet. Yona was still at home in Yak Yakistan, listening to changeling diplomats spin tales of Flurry Heart’s coup against her mother.
And in any case, that’s not what this story is about.
Dyed wingtips weren’t cool anymore. They’d been cool yesterday, but somehow, when the sun rose, they were lame.
“Light!” Twilight called, tapping on her sister’s bedroom window with a hoof. Hovering outside the glass, Twilight peered in, but the bed was empty. So she zipped to another window. “Light? Are you home?”
“We have a door, you know,” Double Time shouted from the yard. She and Light had a beautiful house on the outskirts of Ponyville, and kept a picturesque garden that cost much more than buying the vegetables would have. Double was out tending it, her multi-hued shell covered in dirt. A trowel and a watering can floated beside her.
“I know. Sorry.” Twilight zipped Double’s way, so fast she left a purple blur in the air behind her. She spoke just as quickly. “I just needed to see Light. It’s important! I mean, not like fate of the world important. I don’t need her to wield the Elements of Harmony or anything. Although I think she could. Actually it’s really nice that our relationship has come that far. Have I told her that? I don’t think I have. Okay, I need to fix my relationship with Light. But first I need her to fix my wings because I just did an interview and it’s going to be a disaster!”
“Breathe, Twilight,” Double put down her trowel. “Light’s in her studio.”
“Okay, thanks.” Twilight zipped off. But before she’d gone a dozen yards, she paused and fluttered back. “I heard about what happened with Cheval, by the way. You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Double said.
“Great, okay, I’ll check in on you later. Cya.” And she was off again. She landed on the houses’s second-story balcony, burst into Light’s studio, and shouted: “I need your help!”
Light was so startled she dropped her brush. It left a long red streak down the middle of her painting. Which was fine. She mentally decided to sell it as one of her abstract impressionist pieces. She was famous enough she could get away with that sort of thing.
“Hello,” she said, when the brush finally rolled to a stop on the floor.
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your painting.” Twilight flew up to Light’s side, the wind off her wings rustling the paper that adorned the room’s walls and desks. “It’s a beautiful painting. Because you’re very talented. And I appreciate you as a sister. And a friend! Like we’re sisters but also friends and that’s magic.” She landed, her hooves making soft taps on the hardwood floor. “And I know you’re probably still mad about the—”
“Twilight, you’re having a teenager moment.”
Twilight’s jaw shut so fast her teeth clacked.
For a few moments, silence hung between them. Light watched as Twilight shifted her weight from hoof to hoof, shifting her body posture like she couldn’t quite get comfortable. Her wings open and shut.
“Are you sure?” Twilight asked.
“Positive,” Light said, a small smile on her face.
“Oh, well. Then I’ll just… I’ll just ignore it.” Twilight gestured with a wing to the open balcony door. “I’ll let you paint and—”
“No no. You’re here.” Light smiled. “How about I make some coffee and you tell me what’s bothering you?”
“I don’t want to waste your time. If it’s a teenager thing.”
“It’s okay. We should talk about family stuff anyway.” She rose from her spot in front of her easel. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs.”
Light wasn’t old. Not yet. She was thirty-four, had no children, and hadn’t finished paying off the house. Her mane had exactly three grey hairs. Her art had made her famous in her own right, but the critics still said she needed to “pick a style and settle down.” And her back-left knee hurt sometimes. It wasn’t injured, it just got sore for some reason.
“Do you have tea?” Twilight asked her. “I prefer tea.” Light said that she did, but then made Twilight coffee anyway.
While they drank, Twilight explained her issue. “I know, it’s…” She laughed and bit her lip. “A teenager thing. But I was really happy that I was going to be in the news looking, you know, hip. And then I was in Ponyville today, and Flare asked, ‘when are you going to wash those off?’ And I didn’t know what she meant and I got embarrassed and…” She looked down into her coffee and shrugged.
“You know you weren’t hip when you actually were a teenager, right? You were a loveable nerd.”
“Yeah, but most of my friends are, you know.” Twilight circled a hoof on the table. “Well, not most of my friends. Rarity and Pinkie Pie and Applejack and Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash and all the old crew from Ponyville are still amazing. And I still love seeing them. But they’ve moved on with their lives, and so we don’t really, like. Hang out. In that sense. They’re not really into sleepovers and board games and friendship adventures anymore. So most of the friends I hang out with these days are actually teenagers, and I’m pushing forty and…”
“It’s weird?”
“It’s super weird.” Twilight chuckled. With tension in her voice, she asked, “Do we need to reshoot the interview?”
“I don’t think so. But if you’d like me to recolor your wings, I think I can manage something your friends will like.”
Twilight spread her wings wide. Light’s horn glowed, and with her magic, she controlled paint and dye and makeup alike. The color on Twilight’s wingtips faded away, replaced with something more subtle and elegant. It was like a line of smoke was curling along her side.
“So, who’s Flare?”
“Oh, I thought I’d said. One of my new friends. A pegasus. There’s no way to check until it happens, but I think she’s the new Element of Laughter.”
“I thought Silver Cordial was the new Element of Laughter?”
“Well,” Twilight paused. “She is. I think Flare is the new new one. I don’t have exactly five friends at any given time, so it’s hard to say. And Silver Cordial is still a great pony to have around in a crisis. But she’s getting older too, and I seem to always end up in a friend group with six main ponies. These days, the new group is Flare, Kizmet, Rack Spin, Linden, and Flash Bang.”
“Is Linden the one with the stripes?”
“Yes. She’s half-zebra. But it’s not cool to say that anymore so don’t do it.”
Light nodded. “Are they going to celebrate your birthday? It’s coming up.”
“Yeah, probably. Kizmet is going to make some of her, um. Brownies.” Twilight cleared her throat. “Actually, with everything that’s weird about me, it’s nice that they don’t make a big deal of it.”
“I was thinking of getting you something.” Light paused a moment to spread Twilight’s feathers further apart, putting the finishing touches on her design. “The thing you said during the interview, about having a sticky note on your coffee machine. Is that true?”
“Yeah.”
“That must look a little ugly, having the sticky note always there. And I’ve been meaning to try my hoof at some practical design. How about I make you a new coffee machine? One that reminds you what you like in a less obtrusive way.”
Twilight turned to look at her younger sister. Her expression was uncertain, mouth hanging open half an inch. “You can do that?”
“I’m a visual designer.” Light grinned and lifted a hoof to the ceiling. “I can do anything.”
Twilight couldn’t help but grin as well. “That sounds wonderful!”
The smile fell off of Light’s face. She looked at the kitchen with wide eyes.
Sticky notes covered every surface. The coffee machine had three.
You like coffee. Every time you’re apprehensive about trying it, and every time you love it.
You can put sugar in it. Don’t stress out that you’re going to gain weight.
Yes it tastes different because Spike isn’t making it anymore. Different is not bad. Spike’s coffee wasn’t great.
“Sorry about the mess,” Twilight said. “I need to get a new system. I’m thinking of going back to checklists. I need to hire a replacement for Spike. I’ve got a note for that somewhere around here. I need to get to that.”
She scribbled a note reminding herself of the first note to hire a replacement for Spike. She stuck it to a plate so she’d see it first thing in the morning when she made pancakes.
“Um…” Light took a hesitant step forward. “Twilight, this, um… are you okay?”
“Sure,” Twilight tilted her head, “why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s a lot of sticky notes.” Light pulled the reminder about sugar off the coffee machine. “Like this one. Do you really—”
“Woah, woah!” Twilight rushed over to Light and took the note from her. With great care, she pasted it back on the machine, using her magic to reharden the glue. “No, Light. No. I’m sorry. I know you’re being nice, but you can’t touch any of these. You understand? Never touch them. That’s not cool.”
Light swallowed. Her mouth had gone dry. “Why not?”
“Think about it. What if you forgot to reattach it? What if I lost it?” Twilight gripped Light’s shoulders. “These are my thoughts.”
They looked around the castle kitchen, covered in bits of yellow paper.
“You’re inside my mind,” Twilight said. “When you’re standing here. Don’t touch another mare’s mind without permission.”
Light Step and Twilight talked for hours after that. Light had all sorts of questions about how Twilight was doing, about her friends, and about how she missed Spike. Twilight was happy to have her sister over, though she did wonder where so many questions had come from.
It was flattering, but a little annoying. It almost felt like Light was afraid to leave her alone.
They talked past sunset. Twilight still couldn’t cook, but Light offered to make something, and they chatted while hay fried in a pan. One advantage of a teenager’s metabolism was that Twilight could wolf down three hayburgers in one sitting—and she did. Light had half of one.
“So Linden and Flash Bang are both crying,” Twilight said, mouthing the words around her fries, “and Rack Spin starts crying just because they are. And everypony is glaring at me because I’m not crying, and I’m all, ‘I don’t do that.’ And then Pinkie Pie of all ponies shouts over from the next booth, ‘It’s true she never did!’”
Light Step gave a polite chuckle, and Twilight grinned, pausing a moment to swallow. “And then Flare shouts, ‘Stay out of this, old mare!’ And I’m all, ‘You did not just call my friend an old mare.’ And Flare is all, ‘You think I can’t take you just because you’re a princess?’ And we’re both doing that pegasus dominance display thing. You know, with the…”
Twilight reared up and flapped her wings. Light smiled and nodded. “I know the one.”
“Right.” Twilight settled back down. “So three of us are crying, two of us are fighting, a huge crowd has gathered to watch, and in the middle of it all, Kizmet bursts out of the crowd and shouts,” Twilight mimicked her voice, “‘Oh my gosh, what the heck is wrong with all of you!?’ And we explain this all started when we wanted to get her the best birthday gift, and she screams, ‘So don’t get me anything you crazy horse.’”
Twilight couldn't stop laughing, her smile affixed to her face. Light Step only nodded. “So,” Twilight continued, “it’s like she broke the spell. Suddenly all of us stop crying or shouting and we look at each other and go, ‘we’re all friends. This is completely stupid.’ So we have a good laugh and hug, and go to the malt shop to write the friendship report.”
“Oh,” Light tilted her head. “You still write friendship reports?”
“Only when I learn something.” Twilight twitched her ears -- a little sign of delight. “We all learned that we should take friends’ worries seriously, even if you don’t think they have anything to worry about. And you shouldn’t let your worries turn a small problem into an enormously huge fighting-in-the-town-square ponies wonder if you’re all crazy problem.”
Silence hung between them. Light frowned. The smile didn’t quite fade off Twilight’s face, but the flick of her eyes over her sister made it clear she’d noticed the change. “What’s wrong?”
“Didn’t you learn that lesson already? I remember… wasn’t that back in the day?”
“Oh.” Twilight paused to think for a few moments. “Oh, no. I’ve learned that lesson four times. Once with the original girls, twice with Silver Cordial and the rest of the Canterlot crew, and now with the new group.”
“Do you… you know?” Light gestured vaguely, “Remember…”
“Yeah, of course. I remember all of it. First time, I thought I had to write Celestia every week, want-it-need-it spell, her arriving to save Ponyville, all that.” Twilight finished her fries. “I just didn’t remember it until you reminded me. It’s like how, if I asked you to name every pony you’ve ever met in order of the number of letters in their name, you couldn't do it. But if I showed you a pony you knew you could tell me their name and how many letters it has.”
With her magic, she gathered up all the crumbs and ate them. “The information is all there. It’s just not indexed. If that makes sense. So, I know it, but I didn’t think of it at the time. It didn’t strike me as relevant until you asked.”
“I can make more fries if you want.”
“I would love that.” Twilight’s tone was bright, but she glanced at the clock. “But don’t you have a definitely-not-wife to get back to?”
“Oh, frick.” Light hopped from the table. “I didn’t realize how late it was getting. I should not have run off for this long without telling Double. I need to go.”
“I’ll teleport you back,” Twilight said, trotting up to Light’s side. “It’ll be faster.”
“Thanks,” Light said. But before Twilight could transport them, she went on. “Twilight? I’m… I’m sorry. I know this is intrusive. And you probably get asked a lot. But the story you told. Learning that same lesson over and over. Does that not… doesn’t it bother you?”
“Well,” Twilight laughed, though it was a thinner sound than it had been. “Of course it bothers me. But I fixed it! That’s why I have sticky notes. And binders upstairs for the more substantive things. I have every friendship lesson I’ve ever learned up there, and a lot more things besides. So when I’m being forgetful or having a teenager moment, I can just pop upstairs and check my notes.”
Light bit her lip. “That’s why you say they’re your thoughts.”
“They are my thoughts.”
“And you’re…” Light let out a breath and stared at her hooves. “Are you happy?”
“Heh.” Twilight looked at her own hooves a moment, then laughed at how silly they were both being. “I’m the Princess of Friendship. I get to hang out all day with wonderful ponies who care deeply about me. I don’t ever have to worry about money or getting a job or getting old. I read and I play and I sing in public. And if I do the right thing and believe in the ponies around me, it ends well for me. Every time.”
“That’s not the same thing as, ‘yes.’”
“It’s all I know. And it’s all I’m ever going to know.” She fiddled with her hooves. “But it’s pretty good. So I think I’m happy. Are you happy? With the art and the garden and that bug you refuse to marry?”
“Are you going to bring up the marriage thing every time?”
Twilight twitched her ears. A slight playful note entered her tone. “That’s not the same thing as, ‘yes.’”
“Ah, you got me.” Light offered a weak smile. “Yes, Twilight. I’m happy. I love my art and I love Double Time.”
“Then I’m happy you’re happy.” Twilight’s horn glowed. “Let’s get you home.”
That night, Double Time couldn’t stop screaming. She transformed into ponies that were twisted and terribly wrong, and when Light hugged her anyway, she shook like a leaf in her lover’s embrace. Shouting, crying, she warned that she was probably going to kill Light during the night, and begged Light to kill her first.
But Light refused, hoping that Double would recover by morning.
And in any case, that’s not what this story is about.
The next morning, Twilight woke up precisely on time, hopped out of bed, and read the collection of sticky notes on her vanity mirror. They reminded her not to overbrush her hair (so her OCD wouldn't ruin her schedule), not to blow off her government responsibilities because they involved talking to social ponies (she had anxiety), and not to freak out if she got a little teenage acne.
She never got teenage acne. That was a perk of being an alicorn. But she always worried she would. The note reminded her not to.
Then she read the instruction list taped by the door, considered the sticky notes on the dresser, and went downstairs to make breakfast. She hesitated in front of the coffee machine, and glanced at the tea cabinet instead.
But she had to trust her system. She made coffee, smiled when she drank it, and then made some pancakes to go with it. There was a note on the pancake plate, but she frowned and put it to one side. She didn’t have time to deal with it. She needed to go hang out with her friends.
It was while hanging out with her friends that Twilight discovered a serious problem. That problem’s name was Diamond Shoal.
He was everything a sixteen year-old wanted in a stallion. He was handsome, had a shiny tail, and tousled his mane so it looked wild. A faux-leather jacket gave him a “bad colt” air, but one more associated with adolescent rebellion than actual criminality. While he was far from academic, he was very intelligent, and could usually be found with a book in his pockets. He favored books of poetry, of the sort that made stallions sound deep. And he liked magic.
Diamond Shoal was Rarity’s son.
Of course, Twilight knew better. She had known better. It wasn’t any malice, ignorance, or selfishness that lead her to ruin, but simple misfortune.
She’d had to deal with a friendship problem that day. Some jerk of a stallion from Saddle Arabia had gone off on Kizmet as a “drug pusher” when she tried to sell her special brownies at the bake sale to rebuild the Ponyville clocktower. She was devastated, and was going to give up on her dream of opening her own store. But Flare ran and got Twilight, and together, the two of them sang a proper magic pony musical about hard work and standing up to bullies and responsible cannabis consumption. It was a jaunty little tune, and all of Ponyville sang the chorus.
At the end, Twilight felt amazing. Nothing melted her cares away so much as helping a friend. Kizmet sold out her entire stand, saved the clocktower, and even saved one brownie for Twilight. Twilight pretended to nibble on a corner while avoiding consuming any of it. She fooled nopony, and both of her friends laughed and gave her a hug.
Then, Diamond Shoal walked past their group and said: “Hey, Twilight.” No title. No princess. Just Twilight. “Anypony ever tell you you’ve got a beautiful singing voice?”
“Um.” She blushed hot under the sun. “I mean. Probably. I sing a lot of musicals. I mean, ponies say they like them. Which kind of counts. But I don’t think anypony has ever said that. Exactly. Eh heh.”
“Oh.” He thought it over a moment. “Well, they should. Cya around.”
He flicked his tail behind him as he left.
“Oh, this is bad. This is very bad.” Twilight shoved open the doors to her castle with both hooves and flew into the main entrance hall. She drew in a breath and bellowed at the top of her lungs: “Spike!”
But Spike wasn’t there.
“Agh. Stupid.” Twilight rubbed her face with a hoof. “Stupid stupid.” She flew up the steps, zipped through the empty halls, hurried past the main library doors. The main library was for research, pleasure reading, and hanging out with her friends. She flew to the special library at the end of the hall. The one with the door that locked.
It was filled with binders. The binders themselves were covered in sticky notes, as were the pages within them. Yellow paper stuck out in all directions. First, she picked up the binder labeled “Family.”
Spike isn’t your assistant anymore, read the first page, in large print characters that were impossible to overlook, he went to the dragon lands to learn pyromancy from Ember.
Stuck to that first page was a sticky note, You were very sad about this when it happened, but you cried a lot then and got over it. You don’t have to be sad about this now if you don’t want to.
Under that was another note, It’s what you wanted for him. He has to become his own dragon, not just your lackey.
Twilight drew in deep, panting breaths. She stared at the page and the text upon it. “I don’t need a note to remember that,” she snapped at the air.
So she put the family binder away, and picked up another one labeled “Romance.” The white pages within were full of mature, sensible advice on healthy relationships. Every sheet was pasted over with yellow.
Do not flirt with teenagers! No matter how young you look or feel, you are THIRTYTHIRTY-TWOTHIRTY-FOUR OLD. It’s creepy!
I know it feels like you’re in love but you’re not. Your brain hasn’t matured enough to feel true romantic love. You have teenage hormones. Remember Cadence talked to you about this?
Any pony who falls in love with you will eventually get bored. No matter how good the act is, the show never changes.
DO NOT IGNORE THE OTHER NOTES. Remember what happened when you kissed Koipur?
She read the notes. She thought about what they said. She remembered her life, and her adventures, and every colt she’d ever kissed. She remembered Koipur, a seventeen year old colt who she thought was so mature.
And then she thought about Diamond Shoal when he smiled at her, and how he kept his tail cut short. Like a little brush.
She screamed and threw the binder against the wall. It exploded into a shower of white and yellow paper.
“Light?” she called, tapping on her sister’s bedroom window with a hoof. She cupped both hooves to her face to peek in through the glass, but the bed was empty. So she zipped to another window. “Light? Are you home?”
She glanced at the garden, but no creature was there—the trowel and watering can she’d seen Double using before abandoned among the plots. Seeing them made her ears perk up, and then she smacked herself with a hoof. “Stupid. Of course she’s in the studio. She’s an artist. Light!”
Twilight flew in through the studio’s open balcony doors. The drafts from her wings rustled the many bits of paper and canvas that filled the space. A sketch of a Double flew off the desk entirely, twisting through the air on the force of Twilight’s movements.
But Light wasn’t there. The painting Twilight’s arrival had ruined two days ago was still on the easel, and nopony had cleaned up the spill. Splattered red paint had formed a crust on the hardwood floor.
Twilight touched down. The floating sketch came to rest on the floor a few seconds later.
“Light?” Twilight called. She walked into the house more slowly, a frown on her face. She nudged open the door to the hallway and raised her voice: “Light, are you home?”
“Quiet!” a voice hissed from out the hall. Peeking out, Twilight could see over the house’s main stair and down into the living room. Double was asleep on the living room couch, wrapped up in a blanket. Light had been standing over her, though when Twilight saw her, she was already more than halfway up the steps.
With a gentle shove, she pushed Twilight back into the studio and shut the door. “Don’t shout,” she whispered, “Double’s asleep.”
“I’m sorry,” Twilight whispered back. She held her hooves tight together. “I was looking for you and I saw you hadn’t worked in your studio in days and… I got worried. Is Double okay?”
“She’s fine. We were up late last night is all.”
“Oh.” Twilight paused. Then she smiled a bit. “Up late, like, you know?”
“Yes. My lover is a shapeshifter. It’s really the best.” Light’s tone was quick and perfunctory. “Did you need something?”
“Oh, nothing important.” Twilight cleared her throat. “Well, a little important. I needed advice on something. You remember my reminder system? I wrote myself some notes awhile ago, and I’m about to disregard their advice. It’s fine. I mean, I know it’s fine. I just thought, maybe I should get somepony to check. In case I’m having a teenager moment.”
“Sure.” Light glanced at Twilight’s saddlebags, noticing they were stuffed full of paper. “Switching back to tea?”
“Oh, no, no. I’m sure coffee is good.” Twilight reached into her bag and produced a worn binder, many of the pages held together with tape. “I was going to ask out Diamond Shoal. On a… you know.” She paused. “A date.”
“A date.” The binder was labeled Romance. Light slowly grasped it with her magic, and flipped through the pages. “Isn’t he Rarity’s son?”
“Yeah, I mean. Yeah.” Twilight tapped her hooves together. “But, when you think about it, is that really weird? I mean, I’m an alicorn. Celestia has known multiple generations of the same family. Her teamaker Cozy Doily loves to hear Celestia tell stories about her mother, and her grandmother, and her great grandmother. They were all Celestia’s teamaker. The job has been in the family for so long.”
“Celestia doesn’t fuck her servants, Twilight.”
A hot blush rose to Twilight’s face at once. Her wings parted from her side. “Ewww! No. I wasn’t going to… you know. That. It’s one date. And how many teenage dates end that way? I thought we might kiss. Maybe. Kissing would be nice.”
Light flipped through Twilight’s binder in silence. The frown on her face grew. A few paces away, Twilight shifted awkwardly on her hooves.
“You know,” Twilight said, “ponies shouldn’t say the F-word. Say ‘feather’ instead. Like, ‘they can go feather themselves.’ Everypony knows what you mean and it’s less dirty. I don’t like how much ponies swear these days. The old girls and I never swore.”
“The instructions in this binder are pretty unambiguous.” Light turned it around to point at a page. “‘Do not do this,’ in all caps. ‘It is a terrible idea.’ And another note that says, ‘Do not ignore the first note.’ With three exclamation points.”
“Well, yeah. But when I wrote that, I was thinking intellectually.” Twilight gestured at Light’s drawings. “Sure, if I was being cold and calculating I’d see it that way. But it’s like Shining and Cadence. Love transcends all barriers. You know?”
“Love? You love him?”
“Well, no.” Twilight flicked a mane with her hoof, looking off into the corner. “Well, not yet. I mean, we haven’t courted. But -- but there’s a connection there.”
Holding her hoof over her chest, she went on: “He’s sensitive and caring and we like the same music and books. He really gets me. He sees me as Twilight, the mare, not Her Royal Highness, The Princess Twilight Sparkle. I know, dating for me is…” She scraped a hoof on the floor. “Difficult. But it could work if I found a pony who really cares about me.”
Light nodded once. She considered the binder for a few moments more, turning the pages. “Spend a lot of time with him?”
“Well, maybe not a lot.” She cleared her throat, then smiled. “But we see each other all the time around town. He helps sing chorus in my musicals. Like, as one of the background ponies? He says I have a beautiful voice.”
“So you don’t know him very well.”
The smile vanished off Twilight’s face. “Light, I came here so you could reassure me I’m doing the right thing. Not so you could snipe at my one chance in life of finding actual love. What if he’s the Shining to my Cadence? What if he’s the pony I was meant to be with, and I blow it because I’m nervous about some stupid social conventions?”
For a few seconds, the two of them stared at each other. Light was frowning. Twilight was glaring. “I’m just…” Light said slowly. She bit her lip. “How do you know he’s caring?”
“I’ve been to all his poetry readings.”
“He’s a poet?” Light asked. “Does he write about you?”
“Well, no. I mean, he’s not a poet. But he reads poetry.” She spoke with her hooves, holding one over her heart. “He likes Kerriling. And that’s my favorite too. And the way he reads it, I can see how much it moves him. He connects with it.”
“Kerriling is a very popular poet.” Light bit her lip harder. “Twilight, I see a note here that says, ‘Hire a replacement for Spike’?”
“Oh. Yeah.” Twilight waved the question away. “I’ll get to that later.”
“I see a few notes that say that. And didn’t you say you also had a few at the castle?”
“Those are my thoughts. They’re private.” Twilight’s horn glowed, and she wrenched the binder out of Light’s grasp. In a single motion, she tucked it back into her bag. “I’ll hire a replacement for Spike when I feel like it. That’s not what I came to you about.”
Light looked between Twilight and the door to the house. “Well, if he’s the love of your life, I’d like to meet him. Maybe you could bring him by or—”
“I’m not bringing him by my little sister’s house.” Twilight curled her lip. “That’s weird.”
“I just think it’d be fun to meet him.”
“You think I need a chaperone.” Twilight let you a sharp snort. “You know,” she said, voice tight. “Maybe the reason I keep hanging out with teeangers is the adults keep treating me like I’m stupid. I get it. I have teenager moments. But when you were a teenager, I didn’t treat you this way. When you got involved with Double, I trusted you to make your own decisions.”
“Twilight, that was…” Light let out a breath. “That was different.”
“You’re right. You wanted to date an intelligence operative of a nation we’ve been at war with five times in the last twenty years. And I wanted to date a dressmaker’s son. Wowee.” Twilight’s voice rose to a shout. “Better watch out for Twilight. Ever since she became an alicorn, mare is craaazy!”
“No, please. I’m just trying to—”
“You’re trying to treat me like a foal and you keep getting surprised I notice.” Twilight turned away, back towards the porch door. “Thank you for help.”
Before Twilight could go or Light could say anything more, the door to the house opened. Double Time walked in, still in her insect form, her gossamer wings held low by her side. “Hey, Twilight,” she said.
“Oh, no. Dear. You should be asleep.” Light rushed to Double’s side, but Double gently pushed her away.
“All this talk about love, you think I’m going to sleep through it?” She walked up to Twilight, getting muzzle to muzzle. “You think he’s the one, huh?”
“Um.” Twilight hesitated. Her eyes with the floor. “I mean, he might be. He could be. Don’t I need to see if he is?”
“Sure.” Her gossamer wings buzzed. “Let’s conduct a test. Ready?”
“What am I getting ready for…” Twilight asked. Her voice slowly trailed away to nothing.
In a flash of green light, Double Time transformed into Diamond Shoal. She -- now a he -- stared into Twilight’s eyes. “Hey, Twilight,” he said.
Their muzzles were only inches apart. The flush in Twilight’s cheeks returned, and spread to the rest of her body. Her tail flicked of its own accord, and her wings parted from her sides.
After a moment, she managed, “Uh…” She licked her lips. “That’s a pretty good fake.” Then she looked away. “So, do I love him?”
“Results inconclusive.” In a flash, Double reverted to her natural form. “You know I’m not him, so it’s not like you love the illusion. We won’t really know until you two go on a date.”
“Oh.” Twilight’s head jerked back up. “So I should go?”
“Of course. Just take the necessary precautions. Talk to Rarity first, get her blessings, you wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings. And talk to his friends. Make sure there’s nothing scandalous about him you don't know. And if all goes well?” She clicked her tongue. “You go mare.”
“Right. Right, those are good ideas.” She pulled her binder from her saddlebags again, using a blank page in the back to write down Double’s instructions. “I should have gone to you first.”
“Love is kind of my thing.” Double glanced back at Light. “I’m not going back to sleep today anyway, and I’m kind of sick of being cramped up in the house. Why don’t we walk Twilight down to Rarity’s?”
“Oh…” Light hesitated a moment, but when Double gave her a sharp look, she quickly changed her answer to, “Sure. That sounds good.”
Double and Twilight flew off the balcony. Light used the front door, and they met outside the house to walk into town. For a little while, they walked in silence.
“Double?” Twilight asked. “When you said, ‘making sure there’s nothing scandalous about him’ what did you mean?”
“What do you think I mean? Is there anything about him that might scare you off?”
“No. Not really.” Twilight shook her head. Then she added, “I mean, I’m pretty sure he’s not seeing anypony else. Though he is handsome. But no. He’s not. And I know he plans to stay in Ponyville forever. I mean, of course he does. I’m planning to stay in Ponyville forever, so, you know.”
Her ears folded back. “But he does travel a lot with Rarity.”
“So nothing serious then?”
“What?” Twilight looked up. “What would be serious?”
“Well, he is a young intellectual who travels outside Equestria. A motivated young stallion. A creature of his convictions. Politically active.” Double paused, then shook her head. “No, nevermind. It was a silly thought.”
“What was a silly thought?” Twilight paused. “No. No, that is a silly thought. Rarity runs three businesses. Reading a lot and being worldly does not mean a young stallion is part of the International Party.”
For a few seconds, they walked in silence.
“Oh my gosh.” Twilight looked at the ground. Her tone became distressed, fear worming it’s way into her words. “But what if he is? What if he’s my one chance at finding romance and the bad guys got to him first? What if the love of my life is a communist?”
Diamond Shoal was not a member of the International Party. But some young ponies were.
One of them was named Cloudbank. Two years ago, in secret, he’d been awarded the Order of Boreas in recognition of his service to international revolution.
Four years ago, he’d joined the Equestrian Royal Guard. They tested him every month to make sure he wasn’t a changeling. He wasn’t.
As Twilight was walking to Ponyville, Cloudbank was stationed at a communications tower on the Equestrian coastline. A message came to him from one of the observation posts.
“VERY LARGE ENEMY FORCE SIGHTED. MANY AIRSHIPS AND FLYERS. ALL GRIFFONS. COMING STRAIGHT IN LANDFALL IN LESS THAN ONE HOUR.”
But he didn’t forward the message to the next base up the line.
And in any case, that’s not what this story is about.
Twilight burst into Rarity’s shop. In one massive breath, she explained that she wanted to date Diamond Shoal, that she was sorry if that made things weird between them but that it was true love, and that she really hoped he wasn’t a communist spy who was also seeing another mare.
As Twilight stood there panting, Rarity considered the matter.
“I’ll make you tea,” she said. She flipped the sign in the boutique window to Closed.
“Twilight prefers coffee,” Light said.
“Light Step, darling, you can make her coffee if you like,” Rarity flicked her tail like a whip. “I’m making tea and scones. Double, I shall think affectionate thoughts about you as I do so.”
She gave Twilight a scone, poured them each a cup of tea, and once everypony was seated around her lounge table, she told a story. “Twilight, do you remember the first Ponyville Days festival? The one with that stallion from Trottingham who was crushing on Applejack?”
“Oh, yeah. What was his name?” Twilight thought. “Traders Hoof or something?”
“Trenderhoof.” She let out a long sigh. “It’s quite a long story. Let me tell it from the beginning. You see, you and I met in front of the town hall…”
Rarity told the story in detail. She told it at length. She told it like Twilight wasn’t there. Oh, certainly, she referenced Twilight as having been present, but she never made any accommodations for Twilight remembering the events she was describing. She told Twilight how she kept her mane that day, what she’d said, and how she felt.
If one substituted the word “You” for “Twilight,” Rarity could have been talking to a group of young fillies. Light kept her eyes on the floor, and Double held her with a leg.
When the story was done, Twilight laughed. “We were silly at that age.”
“We were!” Rarity tittered. “Oh, we all were. Running around Equestria, battling spirits and monsters and social anxiety.”
“I still do all that.” Twilight drew a deep breath. “And I’m still silly, aren’t I?”
“Now and again.” Rarity lifted a hoof to hide her smile. “Do you still want to see Shoal?”
“A little. I don’t know. I can see how absurd I was being but he’s cute.” She let out a breath. “Would you object if I did?”
“No. He is very much a young stallion, with all the downsides that entails, but he is a kind creature. I just don’t want him to turn into another Koipur.” She tsked. “You were inconsolable for days.”
“I was. Wasn’t I?” Twilight glanced at the clock. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but could you tell me about that?”
“Certainly.” Rarity launched into another story. “You met Koipur on a Thursday, right after the Running of the Leaves. He was the son of one of the astronomer ponies at…”
As Rarity trailed off into silence, Light Step started to cry.
When nopony could make the tears stop, they agreed to walk Light back.
“I’m sorry, Twilight,” she’d said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know you don’t like it when ponies treat you like a foal. And you’re not, I…”
The tears stifled her words, and she could manage no more defense than: “How could Celestia do this to you?”
Their path through Ponyville to her house took them past Twilight’s castle. Twilight nudged her head that way, and Double agreed, the two of them guiding Light up the castle steps. They took her to the library, and there sat her down in a chair.
“Light,” Twilight said. “I remember all of those events that happened. Rarity told me stories because that helps me remember how I felt. The lessons and the wisdom come back for a little while, better than they do with sticky notes. And she knows I like hearing stories about myself. That’s all it is.”
“And when Rarity dies one day?” Light’s voice was so thick she struggled to speak. Her face was damp with tears. “When there’s nopony left who remembers that story? It’ll be gone, Twilight. It’ll all be gone. It’ll be there, waiting for something to remind you of it, but nothing ever will. You’ll never remember it again.”
She ripped a book from Twilight’s shelf at random. When she pulled it open, sticky notes fell to the floor. “You used to love reading new books. You always had something interesting to say. Now you just read the same books over and over. Do you even bother stocking the library with new volumes? Or do you just circle the room once a decade?”
“I’m perfectly—”
“I know!” Light snapped, the words emerging ragged. “I know. I know you’re perfectly happy and you’re perfectly healthy and you’ll be young and upbeat forever. And you’ll always have friends and you’ll always sing those stupid musicals. But it’s a lie. You’re not happy because your life is going well. You’re not happy because you’re satisfied or because your duties are meaningful. It’s because you were happy at one point, and Celestia won’t let you remember anything else. She destroyed the part of your soul that knows how to remember.”
Light Step buried her face her her hooves, and for a few seconds, lost the ability to speak. The sobs wracked her body. “And she knows it’s a lie. That’s why she surrounds you with censors and propagandists and builds statues of you everywhere. Because she wants ponies to think alicorns are divine. But this thing she made you isn’t holy, it’s sick and it’s wrong and if ponies knew the truth they’d never forgive her.”
When neither Twilight nor Double answered her, Light screamed. “Is that all we are!?” she demanded of them. “I believed in Celestia. And magic, and harmony. And you. But you’re not divine, are you? None of you. Alicorn rule really is a lie. You’ll all trapped in a moment. Celestia can’t even understand why what she did to you was wrong, because she can’t experience horror anymore than you can. She probably thinks she actually was doing you a favor.”
Then she said: “Double’s been crying at night because Amaryllis tortured her, and Cheval tortured her worse. My sister is a brain-damaged eternal child because the tyrant who rules my country wanted an eternal daughter. My niece overthrew her mother and sent her into exile, and turned my other niece to stone. Everypony in my life is suffering and there’s nothing I can do to help them.”
She reached out and pulled Twilight and Double into a tight hug. Her voice cracked. “I love you both so much.”
“I know. We know.” Twilight hugged Light in return, but then gently pushed her back. “And I love you too. But I brought you to the library because I wanted to show you something.”
Twilight’s horn glowed. Inside the wall, mechanisms clicked, and then one of the bookshelves slid away. Behind the shelf was a safe. Inside that safe was another safe. Inside that safe was a cube of solid iron that could only be safely opened by magic. And inside that cube was a book.
It had a single sticky note on the cover. “DO NOT USE FOR ANY REASON.”
“This was the first note I ever wrote to myself,” Twilight said, holding the book up to Light. “When I realized I was going to start forgetting things, I panicked. How could I not? I needed to…”
There was a sound in the castle. It came from outside, and wormed its way in the windows. It bounces off the hard, echoing floors and off the ceilings. It came to Twilight’s ears, and it silenced her.
A mare was screaming. Then a stallion screamed as well. Ponies were shouting, baying. The noise carried far.
Double and Twilight both looked up at once. Light needed a moment more, unable to hear the sound over her own crying.
“One second,” Twilight said. She and Double both trotted over to the nearest window. Looking out into the streets, they could see the ponies of Ponyville fleeing in all directions, dashing for their homes and scooping up their children. One unicorn with noble intentions but little sense fired a laser blast into the sky.
The sun was setting over Ponyville. When Twilight tried to follow the laser blast to its intended target, she had to squint into the sky. All she could see were vague black dots against the sun. The dots flew in formation.
Double shouted: “We are in a target!” She turned to run back to Light.
Light stopped crying, looking up from where she sat.
A bomb crashed through Twilight’s castle. Its sheer weight crushed the ceiling, two intervening floors, and the table decorating the center of the library. It wasn’t much to look at—a metal canister the size of a pony, packed with explosives. It came to rest three feet away from Light.
In the time it took a pony to blink, Twilight teleported three times. First she moved to Light’s side, then she moved herself and Light to Double’s side, then she moved all three of them out of the building.
Twilight, Light, and Double appeared on the streets of Ponyville just in time to see Twilight’s library explode. Fire shot out of every one of the castle’s first floor windows, and sheets of flame licked up towards the second floor.
Behind them, Ponyville’s clocktower exploded. A bomb made of steel and TNT fell through the roof of a house made of wood and thatch. The house vanished into nothing.
“The caves under the town!” Twilight shouted. A beam from her horn projected a massive purple forcefield over half the town. No sooner was it established than four bombs struck it, blossoming into flame above the terrified ponies she’d saved. “Maud’s house. It’s our only hope. They’re a bomb shelter that can hold everypony. I’ll take care of Light you herd everypony down there.”
“Right.” Double stole one last look at Light Step, and then in a flash of green, transformed into Twilight. In a superb impression of the Royal Canterlot Voice she boomed, “Everypony run to the caves! Run to the caves under the town!”
She galloped into Ponyville, shouting her message as she went. The real Twilight focused on her shield spells, trying to toss up as many force fields as she could.
Light Step stared at the castle, eyes wide in shock. The first floor was obviously gone, but the higher floors were still intact. They could be saved, if the flames could be prevented from spreading. She watched as the flames licked their way up from the first to the second floor.
“We can still get it before it’s all gone,” Light said, taking a half-step towards the castle. Her tone was distant.
“Sorry, Light,” Twilight said. “You’re a non-combatant. The best way for you to help is to get to safety so I don’t have to worry about you. Get ready to teleport.”
Before Light could object, she vanished with a pop.
She appeared over Maud’s bed, landing directly on top of her and Mudbriar.
There was no griffon invasion. It was only an air raid. One of several.
The raids did little material damage to Equestria. A steel mill in Manehattan was destroyed, as was a power plant in Trottingham. Two city blocks in the nice part of Canterlot burned to the ground. A weather factory in Cloudsdale was slightly damaged, but several griffons were captured in the process.
Twilight’s actions saved many lives, but while she got everypony in Ponyville to safety, the town itself burned to the ground. It wasn’t a strategic target, but that had never been the point of the raid. It was a statement about a war in the North, and about what it would mean if Equestria remained involved.
The next morning, Light found herself sitting in front of Twilight’s castle. The building itself still stood. The fire had done it no damage, and the magical crystal had already started to regenerate the hole left by the bomb. But the interior decorations—the wooden fixtures, the cloth banners, books—they were all gone.
Ashes swirled around her.
The sound of ponies made her turn her head to the left. In the distance, she could see Twilight with her new friends: Kizmet, Flare, Rack-Spin, Linden, and Flash Bang. They were talking. Then some of them were crying. Then Twilight hugged all of them, using both forelegs and her wings to get in a really good group hug.
After they were done, she trotted over Light’s way.
“They just found Linden’s brother under some rubble. He’s okay,” she said. “That’s the last missing pony, so it looks like that’s it. We were very, very lucky.”
Light cast her eyes over Ponyville. Other than the castle, not a single building stood. Nothing but ruins.
“I was thinking, we should check on your house. The outskirts weren’t hit so hard, it might have survived.” Twilight tilted her head. “Do you want to teleport out there?”
“You’re never going to hire a replacement for Spike.” Light continued to look at the castle instead of Twilight. “You’re going to forget your friendship lessons. Go back to liking tea instead of coffee because you don’t know any better.”
A gust of wind blew a cloud of ashes around them. Light needed a moment to cough. “Do you even care?”
“I care. Yeah.” Twilight bit her lip and looked at the castle as well. “But not as much as I care about Linden’s brother surviving. I’ll probably be upset later.”
“No, you won’t.” Light sniffled. “You’ll forget you’re supposed to be upset.”
Silence hung between them for a time. They both looked at the castle.
“I have a spell that can turn an alicorn back into a regular pony,” Twilight said.
Light’s head snapped to the right, looking at the pony beside her. Twilight continued to stare at the castle, and she spoke. “Everypony keeps forgetting that I’m a gifted wizard. I guess it’s because I look young. Heh. But, after I realized what being an alicorn meant, I was horrified. Disgusted. I threw myself into my work, doing everything I could to research a cure. I knew I had to find a way to reverse Celestia’s magic before I stopped remembering why I wanted it.”
She lifted a hoof to the air, tracing the outline of a book. The real book had burned. “That was the book I showed you. The one with the note on the cover. Never use. See, after I finished it, I thought about it very carefully. Then I put that note on the cover, and put it into storage. The note is there because it’s normal for sixteen year olds to worry about where they’re going in life. I’ve taken that book out of storage… I don’t know. Maybe a dozen times? And every time, I see that note, and I remember writing it.”
Twilight’s eyes turned far away. “I remember leaving a note to myself. Because I knew I’d forget. Never use this. But I didn’t understand why I left the note. The note reminded me of the decision, but it didn’t remind me why I made it. But now I remember.”
Her voice barely above a whisper, Light asked, “Why?”
“Because it’s not about me learning the same friendship lesson over and over. It’s about them getting to learn it once.” In the distance, she pointed to her friends, who were still talking among themselves.
“Everypony tells me that alicorns are divine. That I have a magical destiny. And I don’t know if that’s true or not. But I don’t want this air raid to define their lives. I don’t want Flare to grow up to be a soldier, and I don’t want Kizmet to stop being a pacifist, and I don’t want Linden to grow up possessive of her brother because she’s afraid he’ll get hurt. I’m sorry that everypony you know is suffering. I feel the same way, sometimes. The world is a terrible place.”
She swallowed. “But I think that if ponies believe in friendship, if they believe in each other and support each other, the world can become better. I know it’s terrible and I don’t know why it’s as bad as it is. But I believe what I do will make it better one day. And that’s why I have to be what I am. This is what Equestria needs me to be. This is what those five wonderful young ponies need me to be.”
She licked her lips. “There are other things I dream of doing. Things I’ll never do. And there are places my friends will go that I’ll never go. But I have what I need to be happy. And I think, if I had my wits, I would still be happy. And if there are days I want more than I have.” She let out a breath. “Then that’s life.”
Twilight sniffled and rubbed her nose. “Now come on. Let’s go see if your house burned down.”
Light Step never did make Twilight the coffee maker she promised. Instead, she took the money from her art, and commissioned a book. She drew the cover herself.
It was a biography of Twilight, written like it was a novel. It began thusly:
Once upon a time there was a pony named Twilight Sparkle, who was eternally young. She had no use for her years, and where other ponies hoarded them, she gave them up freely.
But sometimes, when she was feeling sentimental, she’d go look at the years she left behind. She kept them in a book in her library, with a little yellow sticky note on the cover.
When she opened the book she could remember all the ponies she helped. She forgot them again as soon as she shut the cover. But they never forgot her.
