The Things She Carried
Starlight Glimmer carried saddlebags that felt like hundreds of pounds. If she just dug through them enough, she could certainly lessen half of that load. Or perhaps, maybe one-fourth, but one-fourth is certainly better than the stone blocks that she compelled herself to lug around. Well, not lug around. If anyone else were to lift it, they would have to lug it around. But she made the bags seem almost weightless, putting lifters like Bulk Biceps to imminent shame.
In all honesty, if it were a personal choice, she would have dumped the bags to the side of the road ages ago. Her promise to assist pressured her into running errands for Twilight's so-called “Hearth's Warming get together with a few close friends.”
A party… Starlight let out a grumble as she shifted around the boulders that sunk into the arch of her back. She gave a wavering grin as a group of fillies giggled and galloped past. It's a party…
She was surprised that Pinkie Pie hadn’t outright planned this, though Starlight would bet that the baker was the one who convinced Twilight into going all out this year. After all, last time she checked, Twilight wasn’t very fond of the use of red and green streamers that were so bright they would make a dog go mad. (Fluttershy would certainly show at least some sign of disappointment if, say, Winona were to frolic in.)
In her bags, which appeared to expand every second, Starlight also carried packs of balloons, tiny wreaths, candles, confetti, needles and felt, fifteen types of candy… Why Twilight made Starlight bring all of these things herself was far beyond her, but as long as the goods made it to the castle safe, Starlight was fine with however long the trip had to be (though preferably, it would hopefully only last a few minutes more).
She felt her balance shift as she began to pass the Ponyville Schoolhouse. Almost there. And with a defeated sigh she lifted the bags with her magic, allowing herself to stretch to prevent strain.
Admittedly, it was easier—far easier—to carry the bags this way. She didn’t know what it was. Or why it was, really; why she found that there was always a need to prove herself. It was constant, and it always panged against her mind in waves. It was almost competitive, and it was to the point where if she wasn’t trying to prevent her own faults, it became a fault in itself. And it bothered her.
She picked up her pace.
Starlight remembered when she carried around that stupid glass jar, how it filled with red smoke by the second. The puffs trickled into the jar, draining her of the stamina she needed to deal with Trixie’s antics. Her best friend’s antics. She refused to let any of her anger seep through despite the drudgery of the task. She knew she had to keep it together. For the sake of both of them, it was a necessity.
Then the jar fell. And it exploded. She exploded.
Starlight carried the look of Trixie’s face in her mind, how Trixie looked distraught and hurt to be entangled in such a complicated truth—a truth of knowing what both parties are capable of towards each other. Starlight felt that truth, too.
Starlight was well prepared to be met with a painful distortion in their friendship and perhaps, maybe, a slap across the face, too, but she was instead wrapped into a pile of warmth, surrounded by azure hooves and pale blue hair.
“The Starlight I love is passionate, lively, and yeah, sometimes angry. Those are my favorite parts of you.”
Starlight Glimmer felt a pound in her chest at those words.
“The Starlight I love.”
Love.
It’s been months since then. It’s been months since Trixie had later been bold enough to ask Starlight on that initial date. (Starlight was surprised, too; she really thought she would be the one to end up making the first move.) And it’s also been months since the two have been marefriends, sharing their own cliche of rosy cheeks and butterflies and inside jokes among them.
But the one thing that was evident they shared, despite never saying it, was the dreaded L-word that Starlight wanted to prepare herself to say.
Tonight, at Twilight’s party, she would get Trixie alone and tell her how much she appreciates her as a friend and marefriend, how much she cares for her and would do anything for her. She would finally tell her how much she loves her.
Starlight shivered as she neared the castle doors, and the anticipation at the thought alone almost made the saddlebag slip out of her grip. She let out a deep breath.
Easy, Starlight. It’s not even dusk yet.
She hastily made her way to the castle's main room, and she found herself still in occasional awe at its mass. Despite seeing the infrastructure a numerous amount of times, it was still a sight to behold. She gingerly placed down her saddlebags.
“Starlight?” A voice called out from behind. When she turned, she was met with a relieved Princess of Friendship. “Thank goodness you’re back. I was starting to get worried I made the list too long for you.”
Starlight rolled her eyes, but a smile crept onto her face. “Well, it’s not exactly easy to get party hats in three shades of red at every available size this time of year. Other ponies have their own parties to plan, you know?”
“And yet you still came through!” Twilight raided through Starlight’s bags, pulling out the assortment of snacks that she asked Starlight to bring for her. Starlight noticed that Twilight didn’t deny the fact that it was, indeed, a party. “Thank you so much for doing this, by the way. It’s meant to be a surprise for the others. They know we’re all congregating but not for something that’ll be as fun as this!”
Starlight smiled at Twilight’s excitement. For nearly the past year, she’d witness the Princess’ moans of boredom--even during reading of all things. A holiday was certainly well-needed.
“In that case, you’re still fine with Trixie coming over, right?”
Starlight didn’t fail to miss the hesitation that presented itself in Twilight’s stature and tone. “Of course. Why wouldn't she come?”
Starlight carried the disappointment of Twilight’s lack of trust in herself and Trixie. It’s been so long, and yet Twilight continued to walk on eggshells around her. You’d think months of progress would be a good milestone for the Princess of Friendship, but Starlight brushed off her upset. Starlight’s relationship with Trixie was her business alone, and no one can dictate that for her.
She lamely opted to reply with “thanks,” and the two began decorating.
–--
It was around 7 when the guests began to arrive. The duo had long since finished. (Their magical stability and knack for organization and planning had helped plenty.) Tedious work was a breeze for the two of them, but the time for enjoyment was highly deserved.
Starlight stretched as Twilight greeted everypony. She sat near the library while waiting for her anticipated guest to arrive, listening to the bustling that began to occur in the other room.
And not a moment too soon, the blue unicorn in question trotted up the steps, a small present floating in her magic beside her.
Trixie pulled Starlight into a quick hug, and in an instant Starlight was hit with a massacre of artistically exaggerated events that led up to Trixie’s morning.
“You will not believe the look on that salespony’s face when I gave him three bits instead of two! Aren’t I just so generous?”
Starlight listened with amusement, eyes never leaving the mare in front of her. She took in the way her hair bounced as her head swayed, how her nose crinkled whenever she mentioned a point of slight disgust, how the corners of her mouth fought upturn during the “sadder” parts of her story. But then Starlight’s eyes managed to stray for a moment--upwards--and a chill shot through her once she realized Trixie paused and noticed it too.
Starlight watched as a mistletoe swung above them, and she promptly tried to tune out the endearing hum of her marefriend's wishes.
"Well? Aren't you going to give the Great and Powerful Trixie the kiss that she deserves?"
She couldn't. Not yet.
Yes, they've kissed before. Many times. Hundreds, thousands. And Starlight could only hope for more to come. She hoped for millions, billions.
But she frowned. She couldn't do it so early in the night. Really, she couldn't. Not yet. Trixie just got here, after all. Starlight’s original courage to create a plan evaporated into a stone that lodged itself into her throat.
Those three simple words, so often carelessly strung together. She had to be ready. She had to be certain.
She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t. She was certain for a long, long time. She knew that her platonic love grew to be real after their official bond as friends. She knew that her romantic love for the other unicorn had grown in immeasurable numbers as they eventually bonded as partners. Of course she knew she’d mean them.
So why was it so hard to say?
“Starlight?” Trixie stared at Starlight's stiffened state. “Is everything alright?”
Starlight carried fear and regret. She carried the worry that she would screw things all up, just how she managed to ruin things before. She didn’t want to lose the one pony that was now closest to her. She couldn’t lose somepony. Not again. Not after Sunburst. Not after her town. Not after her blind attempt to destroy Equestria in a fit of jealous anguish.
“I…” Starlight choked out. She searched pleadingly in Trixie’s eyes for a moment.
Trixie drew closer, pulling Starlight in for a light peck on her forehead before wrapping her into a hug. “You know you can tell me. What’s wrong?”
Tears pricked at the ends of Starlight’s eyes as she buried her head deeper into Trixie’s embrace. She let out a sigh, and she felt safe.
“It’s hard to say.”
Trixie’s hug squeezed harder, not quite suffocating, but she didn’t exactly make it easier to breathe either. “You don’t have to say it, then. I know.”
Starlight popped up in surprise. How could she possibly know?
“I’m not blind, Starlight. Trixie knows you get her that new Hoofdini card set she’s been wanting for so long!”
Starlight stared at her marefriend before bursting into a fit of giggles.
“What?” Trixie raised a brow. “Was I wrong?”
“Not exactly. I mean, yes, I did get you that, but…”
“But?”
Starlight looked up at the mistletoe again, still in her lover’s arms, and she nuzzled her head deeper into Trixie’s neck. “I hope we can stay like this forever.”
She felt Trixie shift. “No offense, Starlight, but this position’s kind of uncomfortable.”
Starlight felt another laugh escape her as she pulled away. Three simple words. She felt the butterflies that she carried parading in her stomach.
She knew she’d meant those words that she was longing to say. Trixie’s slight obliviousness was endearing; it almost made the struggle easier.
But only almost.
“I love you,” Starlight strained out. It was forced. And it seemed so ungenuine. She wanted to crumble into the floor at her delivery. And she figured Trixie would mistake it for a break up or a falling out or…
Trixie was unphased. “I know. Who wouldn’t love the Great and Powerful Trixie?”
Starlight shook her head. “No, I mean–”
“Trixie loves you, too. I thought we both knew that already.”
Starlight felt her face burst into flames.
“What? Just because we don’t say it doesn’t mean we never mean it. I told you, I love all parts of you. And you tell me you care about me. Isn’t that the same thing?”
Starlight remained silent, patiently waiting to hear if Trixie had more to say.
She did. “Other ponies say ‘I love you’ to each other all the time. Everypony says it. But we don’t have to.”
Starlight sighed once more in relief, and she made their hug a straightjacket of bliss. She kissed her. “I do, though. Love you, I mean.”
“I know. I do, too.”
And to the two of them, that was enough.