What They Deserve
As I ushered Luster Dawn into Ponyville, I knew that an era had come to an end, and another would start soon. Just as it had with me and my friends. Just as it had with my students at the School of Friendship. Just as it had countless times before me. Just as it should countless times after me. Still, we would continue on, doing what we had always done. Ruling Equestria would continue to be a taxing affair, but we had each other.
We would still be friends, forever.
Twilight chewed on the end of her quill as she sat at the desk in her quarters. The sun was shining through the nearby doorway that led to the balcony, illuminating her workspace well. Still, despite the picturesque framing of the scene, the work in front of her didn’t seem right. She put the page aside with the rest of the manuscript, and started on another, or at least tried to.
She sat, staring at blank paper, for nearly fifteen minutes. All she had to show for her work were a few drops of ink on the desk where she had tapped the quill in time with some internal metronome, playing a tune she couldn’t recall the name of. She assumed it was one of Pinkie’s, worming its way up from a faint memory like they always managed to. Twilight smiled at the notion.
Then, she was pulled from her thoughts by a buzzing at her side, and turned to see the image of a dragon’s face in a crystal ball. Spike’s voice, familiar, but still so unexpectedly deep, came from it. “Twilight, they’re waiting for you in court.”
She looked back and forth between the blank paper and Spike’s face. Setting the quill down and letting out a soft sigh, she stood up. “I’ll be there soon, Spike. Give our guests my sincere apology.” In a flash of purple light, she vanished from her quarters.
It was hours later, the room painted in the colors of sunset, that Twilight walked back to her quarters. She bade the guards that had escorted her good night, and trotted towards her desk, taking off her crown and horseshoes in a shimmer of purple magic. Sitting in front of the desk, she looked back over what she’d written, and at the still empty page she’d left behind.
She picked up the quill, wetting it with fresh ink, and with renewed vigor, continued on.
Time marched inexorably on. Our Council saw the resolution of old feuds and the foundation of new alliances. We were certain no task would stand in our way. That was, until a great earthquake shook the eastern shore of Equestria, and a titanic tower appeared in the sea.
…
Luster Dawn and the friends she made had come a long way, and I saw so much of myself in her; even more, I saw my friends in hers. While they did not wield Harmony to aid in defeating this threat to Equestria, it was only through their friendship that disaster was averted.
My friends.
Twilight held the quill in place long enough for the blot of ink to stain the page. Where she had been so sure of where to end the memoir before, now she couldn't see it ending here. There were still so many stories left to tell. She scratched out the last line, and put the pages aside.
She would start on a new one in the morning.
Anniversaries are often a difficult concern
Luster Dawn taking her place as a Professor was
Looking at the casket, I
Another day of court done, Twilight returned to her quarters, bid her guards good night, removed her crown and horseshoes, and took her seat before the desk. She stared at the start of the latest chapter, words still scratched out in a frenzy from that morning.
She balled the parchment up and threw it away. Taking out a fresh piece, she picked up the quill, wet it with fresh ink, and with renewed vigor, accomplished nothing.
She only left the desk as sunset drew ever nearer, stepping out on the balcony and taking a deep breath of the crisp evening air.
The street lights of Canterlot below had come on, and from her perch in the castle tower, Twilight could see much of Equestria stretch out below her. It was sometimes hard to pick out which bundle of lights was which, except for the brightest—like Manehatten or Fillydelphia—but she could be certain, like always, that there were creatures of all shapes and sizes there, thanks to what her friends had accomplished.
As she lit her horn, and lowered the sun, she saw the stars come out, twinkling amidst the void. She then ushered the moon to its place in the night sky, before an ear-splittingly loud series of noisemakers, confetti and fireworks exploded behind her. The sudden disturbance made Twilight leap into the air, and sent the moon careening clear from one horizon to the other, the effect providing a brief burst of moonlight over the land before it was left bathed only in starlight.
“Discord!” Twilight shouted. Turning around, she saw the familiar draconequus with a tape measure in one hand, and a jeweler’s loupe in the other.
“Hmm, two feet and three, no, three-point-two-three inches. I think that’s a new record, Twilight. I’m sure the fireworks did it this time, or maybe it was just being a smidge closer.” Discord grinned as the two instruments disappeared, only to be replaced by a book and pencil. He scribbled out one set of numbers on a page and wrote in the new record. “I’ll have to get the replay to see how far the moon actually went. I don’t think it will beat the three hundred seventy-six degree turn I got the first time.”
Twilight floated back down to the balcony, her horn lighting up to grab a hold of the moon and return it to its rightful perch amongst the stars. Her glare at Discord faded after she took a set of steady breaths in and out of her nose. “Is there something you need, Discord?”
“Ohhh, you know I don’t need a reason to stop by to see a best friend, right? I know it’s unannounced, but I can’t miss out on the chance to be surprising, now can I?” He made the pencil and book disappear with one snap of his fingers and then slid closer, wrapping an arm around Twilight’s withers to pull her closer. “It has been, hmm, three, no, four weeks since we had a real chat. I haven’t even gotten a letter from you.”
“I’ve just been busy, Discord,” Twilight said, using her magic and wing to push his arm off of her. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, I just… I’ve been trying to concentrate on something.” She trotted back inside, and heard Discord’s hoof and claw against the marble of the balcony as he followed.
“The book still? I could have sworn you’d be done by now. You know, I’m more than willing to give it a proofreading if that's the hang-up. I’ll just add a few little mistakes to keep it from being too perfect.” Twilight was quick to wrap a shield around the papers on her desk, just before Discord snapped his fingers.
The effect was that, instead of her unfinished work, another book on a nearby shelf flew open, and the letters on the page pulled themselves up, shuffled about, and took one another’s places, except for a stray “O” that nestled itself in a margin. She smirked as she heard Discord harrumph. “You are really getting too good at that for my own good…”
“It never hurts to be prepared,” Twilight retorted as she looked back over her shoulder. The shield faded, but a faint purple glow still enveloped the pages. She took a seat at the desk, closing her eyes and taking a slow breath. “I’m just struggling a bit with it, yes. It’s the—“
“Ending?” Discord cut her off, his voice somber. Twilight looked up and saw his expression was flat. “Oh, please, you are just as predictable as I am not, Twilight.” He snapped his fingers, and a pot of tea and two cups appeared between them. The pot poured itself and then one of the cups bounced over towards Twilight, nudging her gently in the side of the face before she took it in her magic.
She sipped for a moment. It was sweet, just as it always was when Discord made it. He’d developed a wonderful taste from Fluttershy. “So is that why you came here?”
Discord slowly sipped his own tea, the material of the cup sucked away to leave the perfectly shaped bubbling beverage floating in the air. He then tossed that into his mouth, chewing on it. “Hmm, mostly, yes. The other reason is that I truly do miss talking to you. Are you still so set on writing it?”
Twilight looked down at her cup, swirling the tea around. “Yes, I am. They deserve it.”
Discord rubbed his chin, paw drumming away on the surface of the desk. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself,” he finally said, grabbing the pile of papers and looking them over. “Hmm, yes, yes, very touching. It seems fine as it is, and I’m sure the rest is even more amazing. You can put it to rest.”
“It needs to be perf—“ Twilight started. She downed the rest of her tea, setting the cup down on the desk. “I took too long to start. The least I can do is make it right.”
“Oh, for your sake,” Discord grumbled, setting the stack of papers back down on the desk. Twilight was certain they were out of order.
“I told you to stop doing that, Discord.”
“And I told you I’d think about it. Twilight, honestly, you’ve done enough. There isn’t a creature in Equestria, probably in the world that doesn’t know their names. There are statues of them in Canterlot and Ponyville. There’s a holiday for them, along with the Pillars and your students. You put their cutie marks on the bit!” Discord pulled a golden coin from nowhere and slammed it on the desk. The face showed her cutie mark, with all five of her friends' cutie marks in place of the lesser stars that normally surrounded the larger one.
Twilight was silent, looking between the unfinished book and the bit, and then back to Discord. He was frowning, something that Twilight still wasn’t accustomed to seeing from him after so many years.
“The history books already say everything there is to know about you and them, what you did, how you saved and changed Equestria for the better. Do you really think ponies need you to pour your heart out about them more than you already have?”
Twilight closed her eyes, taking steady breaths to try and calm herself. “I just... want what would be best for them.”
“You gave them the best. They had the best. They don’t need more, Twilight.” Discord put his claw on her shoulder. “What about when this is done? Are you going to write one for Luster Dawn and her friends? For Glinting Dusk? For Sunrise Shine? For everypony from now until someone comes along that you think can take over?”
Twilight swallowed the lump in her throat. She looked up at Discord, and offered him an attempt at a smile. From his unchanged expression, it didn't mean much. “I really should have started this sooner,” she said, voice cracking before a laugh escaped her lips.
“Then they probably would have told you not to bother, you know.” Discord finally smiled at her, and chuckled.
Twilight took another deep breath, and wiped a tear from her eye with a wing. “Well, it’s already written. If you really want to take a look, you can.”
He pulled a pair of glasses from nowhere and put them on. Twilight pulled the stack away from him, a flash of magic sorting the pages before they were bound together with a simple cardboard binding.
“In order, please. It’s the least you can do.”
“I suppose for you,” he said, grabbing the draft and starting to read.
A few nights later, Twilight was alone once again after a long day in court. She returned to her quarters after dark to find the draft she had lent Discord back on her desk, marked with all sorts of suggestions; some, she assumed, were less serious than others.
As she looked through and took the recommendations into consideration, she thought back to what he had said before leaving that night.
"You know, if you want this finished before the next century is up, I'd try to let some things go."
Twilight closed her eyes and took a slow breath when she landed on the end of a later chapter, where she had originally planned to end the memoir. Amidst the proofreading marks was a note at the bottom of the page: "Consider here."
"How am I supposed to do that?" she mused under her breath. As she crossed out a few of Discord's more outlandish recommendations from the page, she let her mind drift.
There was no way to put an end on her friendships; that much was obvious. While she could always mark their beginnings, they had never ended. There were so many potent memories that resurfaced past this moment on the page.
Didn't each of them deserve something more than passing the torch to the next generation? If it ended here, it might seem like all that came after wasn't important. They wouldn’t know how Dash went out with a bang and a half with her last Wonderbolts performance. They wouldn’t know how Fluttershy founded other animal sanctuaries in the Griffon Kingdom and the Dragon Lands.
They wouldn’t hear how Pinkie somehow managed to plan eighteen surprise parties months in advance while she was halfway around the globe. They wouldn’t see the more dazzling designs Rarity made in her later years. They would never read about how Applejack saved Appleoosa with nothing more than a promise.
Was it right to rip all of those memories away from this book? Was it fair to put their end before it was time?
Still, while she knew that there were proud memories to tell, less pleasant ones began to surface too. Disagreements that were never settled. Unkind words never apologized for. Harmful secrets never bared. The first time one of them passed away, and the last time. The pain of watching them slowly slip away from her, from Spike, from Discord.
Was it right to never talk about those bad times? Was it fair to bring such secrets to light when they were gone?
Her quill had stopped moving; the page was stained. Twilight closed her eyes again and wiped a wing over her face, trying to keep her breathing calm and steady. Instead it came out in half-gasps and sobs.
"I didn't want it to end for you all," she muttered. "It never did for me."
She wished they could have been there with her. She wished she had brought the idea up to them when they could tell her how foolish or smart or sentimental or caring or… whatever she was being. She wished the entire book were still nothing more than a thought.
“I just want it to be perfect for you, for us,” she managed through breathy sobs.
It was a few minutes before she finally felt calm enough to look at the pages again. With her chest tight and wings damp, she set the chapter aside and looked to the next. Discord hadn't made a single mark on it. Confused, Twilight made a few edits herself and then moved to the next chapter.
It was the same with every one afterwards. Putting editing aside, she leafed through the manuscript faster and faster, seeing nothing but unmarked pages. Flipping over the last chapter, she came to a page that had been crumpled up and flattened back out again.
"I think you had the right idea," Discord wrote at the top, just above the crossed out lines. Twilight set the paper down, and closed her eyes again. Her breaths came steadily and her mind felt clearer. She balled the page up again, and then looked to the cold fireplace.
With a spark of magic, she lit it, and then sent the balled up paper careening through the air and into the roaring fire. Discord was right, she thought, as she looked to the last chapter. Reading it through, she sent page after page into the fire. They had the best from me. Is it for them at this point, or just for me? I'll always remember them, every piece.
As page after page and chapter after chapter were sent into the fire, the manuscript thinned, until Twilight was back where she had sent Luster Dawn to Ponyville. With moonlight pouring in from the balcony and the fire crackling nearby, it finally looked right.
She pulled a fresh piece of parchment from a pile on the desk, and started writing one final time.
Months later, Twilight's book, The Magic of Friendship, had finally made it to print. The cover shared the same image of her and her friends' cutie marks that the bit bore. Twilight kept a copy in her quarters, and read from it whenever times were hard or her mood was dour.
The beginning had a dedication to each of them, and at the end, just after Luster Dawn was taken to Ponyville, were a few final words:
They remained my friends until their final days. They will remain that until the end of time. There are a hundred thousand more memories for each of them that I could include here. They range every emotion I could ever describe; they are joyous and melancholy; they are inspiring and cautionary; they are momentous and mundane; they are heartwarming and heartbreaking.
I would not trade a single one away, and I will keep them always. I ask all of you to do the same for your friends that I did for mine: cherish them when they are near, miss them when they are far, remember them when they are gone.
It's what they deserve.