Newlyweds Dusk Shine and Sunburst prepare a secret experiment in their library. Starlight Glimmer feels left out.
A short while ago, Dusk Shine and Sunburst finally got over their awkwardness and married. Starlight worked hard to make sure her best friends found love with each other. But now she's feeling empty.
It's not so comfortable being a fifth wheel.
Meanwhile, Dusk and Sunburst seem to barely notice, so caught up in the scientific and magical discovery they seem Tartarus-bent on making. They lock themselves in their lab for hours.
What could they possibly be working on? And what could be more important than their friend's growing discomfort?
AU tag for Dusk Shine (Genderswapped Twilight Sparkle)
Written for the Quills and Sofas Hearth's Warming gift exchange, 2021, for Syke Jr.
Cover art by the incredibly talented Shaslan, commissioned by Syke Jr!
“Did you get the orichalcum? How hard was it to find?”
Dusk stopped at the laboratory door, frozen in the act of unwinding his scarf and shaking off the bits of melted snow that still clung to the hoof-knitted wool.
“Hello to you too, Sunburst.” Dusk raised his eyebrows as Sunburst bolted over the piles of books, half-crumpled diagrams, and discarded cupcake wrappers that littered the floor. Sunburst skidded to a halt right in front of Dusk, practically dancing on his hooves.
“Hello, Dusk,” Sunburst blushed, but pressed forward impatiently. “Well?”
“Yes, I got it. Yes, it was difficult to find. You don’t even want to know how much it cost.” Dusk Shine didn’t even want to think about it. You’d think that magical reagents, even rare ones, were the sort of thing a prince could have regular access to. It was, however, probably unethical for him to use his position to obtain rare magical materials for personal projects. He’d have to check with Luna.
“Prodigious!” Sunburst clapped his forehooves together, before darting forward to peck Dusk on the cheek. “How much were you able to get?”
“I got three whole ingots,” Dusk said proudly, and Sunburst let out a gasp that was almost girlish.
“Three ingots? But we only needed a few rods!” His glee turned to worry in an instant, and Sunburst adjusted his glasses nervously. “Are you sure…”
“It’s worth it,” Dusk reached out with a wing and pulled Sunburst close in a feathery embrace. They nuzzled cheeks together for a moment. Dusk reveled in the warmth, the smell of parchment and ink and home. “You wanted extras for other experimentation, right?” He gave a rueful laugh. “Just don’t ask me for any new books for a few weeks. Our personal funds are going to be a bit strained.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Sunburst breathed. “Can I… can I see it?”
Dusk laughed. “Sure. You’ve got the circle all drawn and tested?”
“Drawn, yes,” Sunburst’s voice was small, and Dusk held him out at hoof’s length, looking into his eyes. Sunburst looked away. “Dusk, you know I…”
“Are you confident in the accuracy of your circle?”
“Yes, but…”
“Do you have faith in your theory?”
“Of course I do, Dusk, you know that’s…”
“Then let me set my bags down, I’ll let you see the ore, and then I’ll watch you test the circle.”
“Dusk, I don’t see why you can’t just do it. You’re so much better at spellcraft than I am.”
“We’ve had this conversation, Sunburst.” Dusk reluctantly broke off their hug, though he left a hoof on Sunburst’s shoulder. “In order for this to truly work, both of our aetheric essences have to be tied up in the project at every step. It’s symbolic, if nothing else. Symbolic of us, together, and of what we can build when we join forces.”
“Yeah,” Sunburst sighed, then looked up to meet Dusk’s gaze. Finally he smiled, and Dusk leaned up to kiss him gently. “Yeah,” Sunburst repeated, sounding more confident. Dusk smirked and dropped his hoof, leaning forward to whisper in Sunburst’s ear.
“Besides, after you succeed, you know what I’ll do for you?” He nibbled gently along Sunburst’s ear, and was rewarded with a full-body shiver.
“Y-you’ve been taking seduction lessons from Rarity, haven’t you?” Sunburst barely managed.
“Guilty.” Dusk broke away again. “But I didn’t hear you complain.”
“N-nor will you.” They shared a heated look, and Dusk felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the fireplace blazing away against the laboratory wall. “B-but you’d better stop distracting me if you want me to do any sort of spellwork.”
“Oh very well.” Dusk took a step back with a theatrical sigh; one that Rarity had most definitely taught him, and even Sunburst arched an eyebrow at his acting. “Husband.”
The word, spoken in a low, husky tone, sent another shiver down Sunburst’s spine and Dusk nearly giggled. The flirting lessons from Rarity had been worth their weight in gold. Especially since Rarity hadn’t charged a bit.
“Dusk Shine.”
Dusk dipped his head with a chastised sort of laugh. It was the dreaded double name; the old signal his mother had used when he and Gleaming Shield had been small foals. If he’d been taking lessons from Rarity, maybe Sunburst had been taking lessons in authority from Twilight Velvet.
Sunburst could certainly do a lot worse.
“Okay, I’ll be good,” Dusk said. “Lemme get this scarf off, and I’ll show you the ore.” He paused, suddenly fearful as the drips of melting slush fell onto the discarded drawings on the floor. “Am I…”
“You know the rule,” Sunburst said casually, as he trod on several of the crumpled, ink-stained paper. “If it’s on the floor it doesn’t matter.”
“We’ve really got to change the rule.” Dusk floated the scarf off his neck. “Our bad habits are feeding off of each other.”
“Spike getting to you?” Sunburst helped by levitating Dusk’s saddlebags off his back, grunting with the magical effort, and onto the floor next to one of the only clean spots in the chaos: a thaumic circle made of precise and intricate chalk marks.
“Among others.” Starlight had mentioned something, too. And Rarity. And Mayor Mare, for some reason. “How dare they interfere with our creative genius!” Both stallions laughed.
“We’ll clean up tonight, okay?” Sunburst offered, and Dusk nodded. Both of them had made that sort of promise before. “But for now, let’s take a look at the prize!”
He opened Dusk’s saddlebags and pulled out the heavy wrapped brown sack inside. Dusk watched as Sunburst flinched in the strain of the telekinesis. Dusk said nothing as he watched his husband struggle at the weight.
Sunburst pulled the brown craft paper wrapping back, tearing it in his haste to reveal the slightly glowing golden metal inside. His mouth open in awe, he gently floated the three ingots down onto the floor, reverently laying them next to the magic circle.
“This is probably worth more than my house, growing up. Probably worth more than all the houses on my street, Dusk.” He laughed nervously. “I shouldn’t be allowed to handle this much orichalchum. Or any expensive reagent, really.”
“Nonsense.” Dusk projected as much confidence as he could into his voice. “I have complete and utter faith in both your spellcraft and your theory. Your finesse is beyond reproach. And we can work on your…” He paused, grasping for the right word. “...heft.”
“Right.” Sunburst was staring at the glowing metal. Dusk smiled affectionately; it would be on him to keep things on track.
“Okay. So we’ve got a limited amount of time, and we need to get started. We need to test the circle.”
Sunburst stared at him, and Dusk stared back. He kept his gaze steady, despite every instinct in his body screaming that he should just give in, and skip to the part with the cuddles. But Sunburst needed this. “You need to test it, Sunburst.” He didn’t use what Starlight called his ‘prince’ voice, but it was a close thing.
“Okay,” Sunburst whispered. “Okay.”
It was something Dusk admired about Sunburst; he might have been indecisive at times, but once he made a decision he was committed. He lowered his horn, touching the tip against the white lines of chalk on the bare floor.
The entire circle lit with the sunny yellow of Sunburst’s magic, the lines, curves, and angles glowing with golden light. It bathed the whole room in light, showering the books, the walls, even the discarded diagrams on the floor in its aura.
Sunburst stepped back, breathing hard. Dusk waited a few breaths, ostensibly to ensure that the circle was self-replicating, but really he wanted to watch Sunburst, and make sure he was okay.
“Is there any residual thaumic draw?” he asked finally.
Sunburst shook his head. “No. The circle is drawing on ambient aether.”
Dusk stared at the light, carefully watching for any sort of flicker, any wavering or pulsing. There was none. He smiled at Sunburst. “You were worried for nothing.”
“We still have to test it,” Sunburst said. His hooves were shaking. He stepped back from the glowing circle and picked up an object off of a nearby cluttered table; a cylindrical crystal, perfectly clear with diamond facets. He awkwardly took it over to the circle with his hooves rather than his horn and clenched his eyes shut. “Here goes nothing.” Reaching out, Sunburst placed the cylinder directly into the center of the glowing chalk circle.
At first, it looked like nothing was happening. After a few nervous seconds, where Dusk held his breath, the crystal began to glow with the same golden light as the circle. A few more heartbeats, and the circle began to fade, while the crystal grew brighter. Ten seconds in, the chalk outline was no longer glowing, and the crystal’s yellow light filled the entire room. Dusk finally let out the breath he was holding in a relieved sigh.
“It worked! Congratulations, Sunburst. Your theory is now reality.” Dusk hugged him with a wing. “See? I told you that you could do it.”
“Yay, I invented a lightbulb.” Sunburst twirled a hoof with uncharacteristic sarcasm.
Dusk laughed. “A quantum lightbulb, powered by the energy of the unmet potential of a hundred billion alternate realities.”
“So a really bright lightbulb,” Sunburst teased.
“Hush, you,” Dusk kissed him on the cheek. “Now, take it out with your magic, and I’ll get to work on the fractal segments.”
They both watched a little nervously as Sunburst lifted the enchanted crystal out of the circle, then set it on the table. It continued to glow brightly, with no adverse effects. “Shouldn’t we wait a bit, to be sure?”
“Of course we will,” Dusk said. “But it won’t hurt to start preparations for the next step while we’re watching.”
Dusk picked up a nearby piece of chalk and began his own circle, about a third the size of Sunburst’s, though mirrored in every way. Then he drew a second, and a third, each one filling the space inside Sunburst’s own spellwork.
“Would you look this over for me?” He couldn’t help the note of insecurity. Sunburst eyed him askance. “No, really. I know you struggle with spellwork, even though you’re getting better. But your knowledge of enchantment theory is without peer.”
Sunburst nodded, carefully walking around the circle to inspect the smaller three. Meanwhile, Dusk moved over to the glowing cylinder.
“I’m going to do a thaumo-molecular analysis on this while you check my work, okay?”
“Yes, Dusk,” Sunburst said, distracted, as he peered through his glasses at the smaller circles. Dusk nodded and lowered his horn to the glowing cylinder. He lit his horn, the glow barely registering in the strong yellow light of Sunburst’s magic. Reaching out with his mind and his magic, Dusk Shine touched the crystal, prodding at the enchantment that kept it glowing. From the corner of his eye, Dusk saw Sunburst sit up and blink. “Wait, did you say thaumo-molecular? Dusk, don’t you know that will…”
“This is incredible!” Dusk shouted, practically singing his enthusiasm at the simple artifact they’d created. “The matrix is fully formed, and as solid as a rock. There’s no decay at all that I can tell! This will—”
“Dusk, wait! You can’t—!”
A crack appeared in the surface of the crystal, and Dusk backed away, his horn flickering off. A sound like the tinkling of breaking ice filled the room, only to be eclipsed by Sunburst’s moan of fear. A spiderweb of breaks crept over the crystal, with light leaking out. Dusk nervously lit his horn, forming a shield spell around the two of them just in time for the explosion to pick them, and the shield, up like a foal’s ball and toss them against the opposite wall. Dusk barely had enough time to wrap his hooves and wings protectively around his husband as they were rag-dolled about the lab.
The room filled with blinding golden light as razor-sharp shards of crystal rained into the walls of the laboratory, embedding into walls, floors, furniture, and the ceiling.
The first thing Dusk could hear as the ringing in his ears subsided was Sunburst’s moans and whimpers of dismay. He was curled up in a fetal position, with Dusk curled around him.
There was a sudden knock on the door.
“Everything okay in there?” Starlight’s voice was muffled by the lab’s wood door.
“Yes, don’t come in!” they shouted in unison, before Sunburst spun in Dusk’s hooves so they could share a look. They burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation.
“Well, this was a disaster. I guess we’re back to the drawing board.”
“What?” Dusk blinked a few times in confusion. “What are you talking about? Disaster? This was an unmitigated success!” He carefully reached out and fixed Sunburst’s glasses, knocked askew in the explosion.
“You and I have very different definitions of unmitigated. And success.” He picked a shard of crystal out of the floor, staring at the deep gouge in the wood.
“No, don’t you get it?” Dusk didn’t see detritus as he looked around the room; he saw potential. “The circle worked perfectly. The fractal divisions would have worked, too. The enchantment was self-sustaining! It was only because I decided to mess with it’s aether on a molecular level that it exploded!”
“It was stable until you tried to pick it apart…” Sunburst said, wonderingly. “You might be on to something.”
“Yes! Now we just have to re-draw the circle. We already know it works, so we can just skip right to the third and fourth iterations of fractal circles!”
The kitchen already smelled of warm tea and baking muffins as Starlight plodded down the stairs. Somepony was up and moving, and it wasn’t Spike, because he was spending this Hearth’s Warming with Ember and Smolder. At least he’d decorated before he left; Starlight wasn’t sure she’d had the energy, lately.
“Who’s up?” she called out, her words slurring with exhaustion.
“Oh, Starlight? You’re awake?” Fluttershy’s gentle voice floated out of the kitchen. Starlight stepped into the warm aroma of sweet baked goods, looking into Fluttershy’s concerned eyes. “When you didn’t meet me for breakfast I was worried. I was about to come knock on your door, but if you’re not feeling well maybe you need your sleep.”
She was wearing one of Spike’s aprons, awkwardly shaped on a pony and just a little too big for her after his most recent growth spurt. It was dotted with flour and batter from whatever kind of muffin was probably baking away in the oven.
“Are you okay?” Fluttershy continued, while Starlight stared at the kitchen in a bit of a daze. A hundred answers came to her lips, floated at the tip of her tongue. But this was Fluttershy.
“No,” she whispered, and Fluttershy tutted. “Sorry. I overslept. I forgot we were going to meet. I’m sorry.” She was repeating herself, she realized, her sleep-deprived mind struggling to form coherent thoughts.
“You should go back to bed, then,” Fluttershy said, but Starlight was already shaking her head no. “Well, at least come sit at the table and I’ll pour you some tea. The muffins will be done in about five minutes.”
Fluttershy flew over the table in order to pull Starlight’s chair out for her. Starlight slumped down, flopping her head on the polished wood with a thud. Fluttershy patted her mane gently before flitting away to pour some tea. Starlight didn’t sit up until she heard the ceramic mug laid down on the table next to her.
Any of her other friends would have started with something like, ‘so, do you want to talk about it?’ Fluttershy just waited, watching her calmly while she tentatively sipped at the tea. Fluttershy was treating her a little like a skittish animal, Starlight realized, and had to hold back an amused huff. She might as well say something, then.
“I think I’m going to move out,” she said.
“Oh?”
That was it. Polite interest, no pushing, no probing questions. Starlight was suddenly immensely glad it was Fluttershy here, rather than any of her other friends. Especially Trixie.
“Yes. I’m… I’m probably going to resign at the School of Friendship, too. Let Sunburst take over as headmaster. He’ll do just fine.”
“That seems like a big step. Where would you go?”
“Anywhere,” Starlight breathed, then flinched. “It’s not like I’m on probation any longer.”
“Probation?”
“You didn’t know?” Starlight stared at Fluttershy. She thought everypony knew. “After I nearly unmade reality in a fit of jealousy and revenge? I know you girls, and Prince Dusk voted to forgive me, but there are still laws in place. I had to live in Ponyville for the duration, and even surrender some quintessence.”
“Quintessence?”
“Oh, right. Mostly just a thing unicorns would worry about.” Explaining practical magic felt safe. Better than talking about what was bugging her. “Unicorn criminals, like me, go through a process when they’re placed on probation. We cast a spell that distills our magic essence into liquid form. It can be used as a material link if something goes wrong.” Starlight saw the uncomprehending look in Fluttershy’s eyes. “Basically if I’d tried to escape, Dusk could have used the bottle of my quintessence to easily cast tracking spells, locate me for teleportation, or even cast various attack spells targeted on my horn. It’s a failsafe.”
“That’s… harsh.”
“Nothing more than I deserved,” Starlight said, matter of factly.
Fluttershy tutted. “I don’t like you talking down about yourself, Starlight.” She shook her head. “But you really don’t have any concrete plans of where you’ll end up?”
The reversal back to the earlier subject was unsubtle, but Starlight didn’t mind.
“There’s positions for a mare with experience in education all over, especially since Dusk had my criminal record expunged. Manehattan Institute of Magictechnology is hiring professors. Thorax is looking for a cultural exchange of tutors for the school he’s opening in the Badlands. And there’s private schools in the Empire that are looking for a few more modern teachers, too.”
“You didn’t mention any positions around Canterlot or Ponyville,” Fluttershy noted smoothly. There was a ding from the oven, and she jerked out of her own seat. “Oh! Let me get that, one moment.”
No, she hadn’t mentioned any position close by. And of course Fluttershy would pick up on that.
“I need distance. I thought I could make this work, but I can’t. Especially with Dusk this close, I…” she snapped her mouth shut. That was too much. But Fluttershy, her attention on the oven gloves she was slipping over her forehooves, merely nodded.
“Maybe I’m more observant than most,” Fluttershy said, opening the oven. A gust of hot air and sweet spicy smells washed over the kitchen. She reached in to pull out the tray. “I wish I’d said something sooner, Starlight. You’ve been hurting in silence this whole time. I didn’t speak up because…” Fluttershy’s head sank. “...because you were trying so hard to push them together. I didn’t want to mess that up.”
“Was I really that obvious?” Starlight groaned. Fluttershy shook her head as she set the muffins on the countertop and deftly closed the oven with one of her rear hooves.
“Oh, no. I just…” Fluttershy blushed, looking away. “I… uh, I know what it’s like to love somepony, silently, from a distance.”
Starlight watched her as she hid behind her pink mane. “Rainbow?” Fluttershy gulped and nodded, and Starlight’s heart sank. “Oh, Fluttershy. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Fluttershy said. “It’s something I’ve come to accept, you know? It doesn’t hurt like it used to, when they first got together.”
Rainbow and Applejack had been married for two years, now. That Fluttershy had been quietly hurting…
“I’ve been a bad friend.”
“N-no!” Fluttershy yelped, jerking upright and nearly upending the tray of muffins. “Don’t say that, Starlight! You’ve had your own issues going on.”
“And now you’re here, helping me through it.”
“Whatever I can do,” Fluttershy nodded. “It passes with time, and with distance. I can’t imagine how difficult it might have been if I lived with the pony I…” she gulped and fell silent. “You’re so strong.”
“Not strong enough. That’s why I have to go. I…” she took a deep breath. “I can’t take it any longer, Fluttershy. I just can’t.”
“When will you go?”
Starlight gaped. “You’re not going to try to convince me to stay?”
“Distance will help you heal,” Flutttershy said simply, pulling two muffins from the tray and plopping them down on a plate. She slid the plate in front of Starlight, then sat in a chair close enough to wrap a feathery wing around her. “I’ll miss you. We all will. But there’s letters, and I doubt it will be forever. It’s not a final goodbye, Starlight. Just the next step in your life.”
With the soft, supportive voice in her ear, and the gentle feathers around her, it was all too much. Starlight began to sob silently, tears streaming down her cheeks onto the table. Fluttershy stroked her back, whispering soothing nonsense as she cried.
Starlight’s tea was lukewarm by the time she finally stopped crying. Fluttershy held out a tissue, and Starlight dried her eyes. The silence was too much, too embarrassing, and there was a part of Starlight that demanded she cover the weakness she’d just shown.
She took a bite of one of the muffins on the plate before her. Apple spice, still just a little bit warm. She managed a small smile. “These are good. Thank you.”
“It’s an Apple family recipe. Applejack is really the best source for baking ideas.” Through tear-dampened eyes, Starlight searched Fluttershy’s expression for any hint of bitterness, jealousy, or regret. There was none. Apparently a pony really could move past losing to a romantic rival, especially if that rival was a good friend to begin with.
And Sunburst was her very best, and oldest, friend.
She steeled herself, took a deep breath, and stood, letting a smile slide over her face. It was only a little faked. “C’mon, let’s go track down the boys. They’d be upset if they missed out on these amazing muffins.”
“Shouldn’t they have been awake by now?” Fluttershy said nervously. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt… I mean, they are technically still newlyweds, and…” She trailed off, her yellow face turning crimson.
“I’m pretty sure they’re still in the lab,” Starlight said. “They were there last night, when I went to bed.” Bed had been useless. “There was an explosion, and I went to check on them, but they said to stay out.”
“An explosion?” Fluttershy leapt from her seat as well, wings fluttering in distress. “Oh, my. Were they okay?”
Starlight laughed. “Explosions are just one of the small inconveniences Spike and I have to put up with, living with two eccentric geniuses. It’s normal. When I checked on them an hour later, they were arguing about something.” She paused, noting Fluttershy’s worried look. “Not bad arguing, you know. Just the two of them having an intense debate about some point of magical theory or other. Honestly, it’s a little beyond me.”
“Starlight, you’re as much a genius as they are,” Fluttershy said disapprovingly.
“Only because I know how to improvise. My magical education was a little ad hoc, so I never learned the rules or the theory the way those two did. So while yes, I can run circles around either one of them with my spellwork, I just get lost when they start talking about the technical details.” She jerked her head in the direction of the door. “C’mon, we should go check on them, at least. They probably argued into the early hours then passed out on the floor of the lab. I’ve taken to leaving blankets and pillows there when it happens.”
“It’s… a regular occurrence?” Fluttershy’s mouth twisted in a frown.
“They’re getting better, but when Spike’s not here to keep them in line, they sometimes forget. And I usually…” She hissed, sucking air through her teeth. “...Well, I usually try, but recently it’s been difficult to be around them.”
“Are you sure you…”
“Let’s go!” Starlight forced herself out of the kitchen, before her own hesitation or Fluttershy’s sweet concern could send her into another sobbing fit. She could practically feel Fluttershy’s worried look as she trotted up the stairs and into the castle’s main hall, but she didn’t turn to look. She could hear Fluttershy’s wingbeats, so she knew the mare was following.
“Their lab’s right here,” she said, stopping in front of a heavily warded wood door. “It’s thaumically sealed, so they don’t explode the hallway if they do manage to blow up their lab. That's what the runes are for. If they’re glowing, that means they’re active and something dangerous is happening inside.” The runes appeared to be quiescent, so she reached out to gently knock on the door.
There was no response.
“Sunburst? Dusk? Are you in there?” Silence was her answer. Shrugging, she reached the handle and pulled the door open.
The lab inside was a disaster. In the center of the room, a tarp covered a huge section of the floor. The rest of the room was littered in crumpled paper and broken shards of something. There were even a few plates from when Starlight had brought Sunburst a snack, yesterday afternoon.
“O-oh,” Fluttershy said, looking around the room with a horrified gaze. “I-I didn’t realize…”
“They’re usually clean and organized, but they can be absolute slobs when they get distracted. Don’t worry, they’ll clean up today. It’s either that or face the wrath of Spike.” Spike had gotten really good lately at making Dusk clean up his own disasters.
“Yes, but where are they? I don’t… Oh!” Fluttershy let out a coo, and Starlight followed her gaze.
As expected, Dusk and Sunburst were sleeping away in the detritus of their lab, both resting their heads on a pillow on the floor, covered only by a single blanket.
“Are they… s-spooning?” Fluttershy stammered, using the kind of voice she would have for a particularly adorable baby animal. Indeed, the newlyweds were spooning, with the larger Dusk wrapped tightly around Sunburst. As they snoozed, Dusk’s wings twitched, pulling Sunburst closer and sleepily nuzzling against him.
It was sweet. It was adorable.
It was Starlight’s love, holding another stallion in his hooves.
“I… I have to go. I’m sorry!” Starlight gasped, and turned to flee, ignoring Fluttershy’s calls behind her.
Dusk groaned, clenching his eyes and moving his wing to cover his eyes. It seemed far too bright, and the air outside of the blankets was too cold. He nestled into the warmth in his hooves, which also shifted about with a moan of complaint.
“It’s really not healthy for you to be sleeping on the floor like this, Dusk. And in such a mess!”
Fluttershy. It was Fluttershy’s voice. She was in his lab. His eyes flew open, darting to the tarp that hid their magic circles.
It was in place. He gave a little sigh of relief, before looking up at the pegasus floating in the air above him and his husband.
“G-good morning, Fluttershy,” he yawned. “Everything okay?”
“Morning? Dusk, it’s almost ten! Wake up, sleepy head. I made muffins.”
“Muffins?” Sunburst yawned as well, stirring in Dusk’s hooves. “Did I hear muffins?”
“Yes, and I have half a mind to say you can’t touch them until this disaster is cleaned up. What are you two thinking?” Fluttershy’s scolding tone made Dusk flinch. “If you were expecting Spike or S-Starlight to clean this up, you’re…”
“We were going to clean it up,” Dusk interrupted. “We just wanted to finish our experiment first. We weren’t going to make Spike or Starlight clean it up, I promise.” He stood, letting the blanket slip off both of them and ignoring Sunburst’s whimper of complaint. He arched his back, stretching the stiffness out of his muscles.
“Uh huh.” Fluttershy said skeptically. “Well, hurry up. The muffins are probably cold by now, but they’re still good. Apple family recipe.” She sighed. “And I might help you clean up later.”
“You can’t!” Dusk said, a thrill of panic shooting up his voice. Fluttershy eyed him suspiciously. “Um. It’s an important experiment, but it’s also a Hearth’s Warming gift. For. Um. Somepony. We want to keep it a surprise.”
“Okay,” Fluttershy said slowly, her eyes drifting across the mess. “If you insist. But I’m willing to help, if…”
“It’s fine, Fluttershy. Thank you. We’ll take care of it.”
Fluttershy shrugged, and flew out of the lab. Sunburst stood and stretched himself, casting about for his glasses. Dusk floated them over from under a pile of parchment. “Did she see? Do you think…”
“It doesn’t look like Starlight was here. And Fluttershy didn’t see. We’re safe. C’mon, let’s go get muffins.”
In the kitchen, Fluttershy and Starlight were sitting at the table. Starlight was an absolute mess; her eyes were ringed with dark circles, and her mane was a disaster. She didn’t meet his eyes when he came into the kitchen, instead focusing on the muffin she was taking tiny bites from.
“G’mornin’, Fluttershy,” Sunburst said from behind him. “Mornin’, Starlight.”
Starlight grunted but didn’t look up. Dusk peered at her with concern.
“Starlight, are you o…”
“I’m moving out,” she muttered, through a mouthful of muffins.
Everypony in the room froze. All eyes were on Starlight, who was staring at her plate.
“I’ll finish out this semester at the School of Friendship, but then I’m going to be looking for other opportunities. I’m so sorry, Dusk.”
The kitchen was so silent Dusk could hear his own heart pounding in his ears. He stared at Starlight, who still wouldn’t meet his gaze. A minute passed.
“Okay,” he said. A veneer of false calm was his only defense against his inner panic. It was one of the very first royal skills that Celestia and Cadance had taught him. “Okay, Starlight. Can I ask why?”
“I… it’s private,” she muttered. She shook her head. “Teaching at the School is wonderful. It’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. But I need to move on. I don’t think I can keep growing here, under your shadow, forever.”
Dusk had never felt so cold. An icicle of terror shoved through his gut, up into his heart. He could feel Sunburst frozen in horror behind him.
“Of course, I respect that, Starlight.” He was holding onto his self-control by the thinnest of threads. “And I’m heartbroken to see you go, but I’m proud of you spreading your wings, so to speak, and finding your own way.”
“That easy?” Starlight muttered, so low that Dusk probably wasn’t supposed to hear. “Thanks, Dusk. I’ll start looking for other postings, too.” She smiled, though she still wasn’t looking at him. “I don’t suppose I could get a letter of recommendation?”
“As many as you need,” Dusk whispered. “Can I ask you one thing?”
“It depends,” Starlight said warily.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Starlight’s whole body tensed, sitting stiff in her seat. Fluttershy gasped, looking away.
“No. No, you’ve done nothing wrong,” she said. “You’re… I mean, you’ve been perfect. Sorry, I have to go.” She stood up from her seat, and fled out of the room.
Dusk turned, sharing a look with Sunburst. His own horror was written in his eyes.
“What now?” he breathed.
“Rarity. I need advice.” He glanced over at Fluttershy, who looked like she was about to chase after Starlight. “Fill in Fluttershy. She can keep a secret.”
“Dusk, but what…”
“I have to fix this!” He said, his horn glowing. “Sunburst, you talk to Fluttershy. She’s good with this kind of thing.”
“Dusk, how can we…”
But Dusk’s panic was already in full swing. His horn filled with crackling energy, and he reached out with magic, his mind fixed on the facade of Carousel Boutique. With a snap of magic and ozone, he teleported, pulling himself through reality.
Dusk Shine realized his mistake before he even opened his eyes. The outside air of Ponyville was frigid. Icicles draped off of the eaves and raingutters of all the buildings, like a shimmering holiday garland decorating the eaves. Carousel Boutique was no exception; indeed, Rarity had specifically decorated around the icicles, incorporating them into the twinkling lights and evergreen garland that draped around her shop.
Dusk shivered, wishing he’d brought a scarf, or a coat. Rarity was sure to scold him. Desperately he prayed, hoping that she would be open, that she’d be in. Maybe she’d be able to fix this. He dashed for the door, keeping his wings tight to his barrel for some measure of warmth.
Dusk let out a sigh of relief when the door opened to his magic. The ding of the bell at the door filled him with hope.
“Rarity! RARITY! Disaster! Ruin! The Worst Possible Thing!”
Rarity wasn’t in sight, but her voice floated casually from the back room. “You know where the fainting couch is, darling. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“I don’t know if I have a minute!” He cried, throwing himself on the fainting couch that Rarity had placed among the racks of dresses and suits, for customers to sit while she showed off her fashions.
“Oh, I’m sure you’re just being dramatic,” Rarity said with no sense of irony as she trotted into the room. She wore her glasses, with her measuring tape around her neck. “Whatever it is, I’m sure that with your friends at your side, you can…”
“Starlight says she’s moving out!” he shouted, and Rarity sat back on her haunches.
“Oh. Oh my. That is a disaster.” Rarity blinked a few times, then stood again, moving over to the couch so she could pat him on the shoulder comfortingly. “Well, you’re going to have to move up your plans a little, aren’t you?”
“But it’s not ready yet,” he breathed.
“Hmm. Well, fill me in on what has happened so far,” she said, and he began to talk.
He told her all about the success of their experiment last night, their progress, and even falling asleep in the lab. He spoke about waking up to Fluttershy, and the brief, stilted conversation with Starlight. Rarity’s look of concern as he described Starlight’s behavior.
“It may be that you have to start preparing yourself for rejection, Dusk,” she said softly, after he finished. Dusk shuddered. “Well? Clearly the living situation is a strain on dear Starlight.”
“But I have the solution! I can fix this!”
“I hope so, darling,” Rarity said. “But you may have to accept the fact that you waited too long. We shall, however, do our best to salvage the situation, though it might mean you must move up your plans a little. Can you do so safely?”
“I… I think so,” Dusk said. “Sunburst doesn’t. We argued last night. But I’m confident. Only I don’t know how to get Starlight’s essence into the spell without…” his eyes shot wide. “Oh. OH! That could work! I have to talk to Sunburst!” His horn began to glow.
“Good…” Rarity began, before there was a blinding flash of light, and Dusk Shine disappeared. “...luck, darling.”
Starlight was hiding in her room, sitting at her desk, her head on her hooves. It was the first place that had come to mind. Certainly it was better than hiding in her office at the school, so she could be surrounded by the evidence of all she had accomplished there. All that she was throwing away, because she simply couldn’t…
He doesn’t care.
His face had been calm and composed as he’d expressed his regrets that she was leaving. Regal. Princely. Politic. An act.
He doesn’t care.
She’d thought the wedding was the worst. That it would slowly get better from there. But every day, every hour, was so much worse than the last.
After today, after seeing his face…
She didn’t think she could last until the end of the semester.
“I’ll… move in with Trixie,” she muttered to herself. “At least until summer break. I can manage that long. I’ll only run into Dusk on occasion. And Sunburst…”
Sunburst would see her every day at the school.
The knock at her door made her jump up from her bed.
“Starlight?”
It was Sunburst. Not the worst option, but certainly not the best. None of this was his fault. It wasn’t Sunburst’s fault that she was in love with Sunburst’s husband.
“Starlight, I’m coming in.”
There was something bold in his voice, something uncharacteristically confident. She nearly said no, nearly sealed the door shut with her magic. But she didn’t, and it opened. Sunburst slipped inside, leaving the door ajar behind him. Concern was naked in his voice.
“Starlight? Can we talk for a moment?”
She looked up from her hooves, saying nothing. He clearly took that as permission, stepping into the room and sitting down on her unmade bed.
“I’m sorry I didn’t notice how much you were suffering before now,” he began softly, and she cringed.
“Sunburst!” Panic flooded her chest, clenching her heart with acidic claws. “I didn’t… I never… I’m so…”
“Starlight, wait.” He held up a hoof. “It’s not your fault. And I’m not angry. I couldn’t possibly be. You’re my best friend.”
“But I’m in love with your husband,” she whimpered. He nodded and smiled.
“I know. That part, I’ve known for a while.”
“You…” Starlight felt sick to her stomach. “Did everypony know?”
“I don’t know who else knew. But it was pretty obvious to me, at least.”
“So Dusk knows?” That would be the worst.
Sunburst hesitated, then stood, walking over to her desk. “Stand up, Starlight. There’s something I need to show you. Something really important.” He sighed in frustration. “It was supposed to be later. We’re kinda rushing things, but neither of us realized things had gotten this bad for you.” He huffed. “Some kind of best friend I am.”
Slowly she stood, watching his face. He looked nervous, worried, but somehow confident. It made no sense. He gently nudged her in the direction of the door with one hoof.
“This way, Starlight. I want to show you what we’ve been working on in the lab. It’s not quite finished yet, but it looks like we’re out of time.”
The walk through the hallway of the castle was a nightmare of awkwardness. Every few steps she sent a nervous glance back at Sunburst, who smiled gently at her. What could possibly be going on in his head? What was happening? She’d just confessed to being jealous of her very best friend, for Celestia’s sake. And he was taking it this calmly?
It made no sense, and she hated not having an explanation.
“I have to know why. Why don’t you hate me?” Her voice sounded pathetic.
“Starlight. Stop.”
She turned to look at Sunburst. He was paused in the hallway, his hooves shuffling nervously on the carpet. He reached up with one hoof to adjust his glasses; it was a nervous tic that Starlight was long used to.
“Look, you and I both know I’m not the best when it comes to social interaction and nuance, right?” Sunburst looked away.
Despite the situation, Starlight gave a little snort of laughter at the understatement, but there was no humor in it. She wished she were anywhere else.
“Yeah,” he continued. “So when I confessed to you that I had the world’s biggest crush on Prince Dusk Shine Himself, I was over the moon when you said you’d help me ask him out.” Sunburst sighed, glancing up at her. “I was so excited and terrified I didn’t notice what you were hiding.”
He took a few steps forward, hesitating, watching her reaction. Starlight didn’t move, and he wrapped his hooves around her.
“If it weren’t for you, I never would have tried. You made Dusk and me happen. And even if you weren’t my best friend, I’d love you forever for bringing us together. But why, Starlight?”
“Because I’m not good enough for him,” she whispered. She didn’t want him to hug her. She didn’t want him to comfort her. His hoof around her felt like fire. “And both of you deserve to be happy.”
“And you don’t?”
“It doesn’t matter what I deserve!” Starlight screamed, pushing him away. “I’m a felon, he’s a prince! You… you were pure. Untainted. He needed somepony who wasn’t on probation for kidnapping, fraud, and magical assault!”
“Starlight…” Sunburst sighed. “Don’t you think he deserved to make his own choice? With all the information?”
Starlight turned away, looking at the floor. The pity in Sunburst’s eyes, the naked sympathy, turned her stomach. “Why are you pushing this so hard? You have what you want.”
“Not everything. Um. It’s hard to say. But I can show you. Come to the lab. Please.”
There was desperation in his voice. A pleading that went beyond the words themselves. Starlight wanted to turn and flee. Every second was agony, like she was being dipped in acid, and he wanted her to stay longer? To bathe? But then she met his eyes, and she was lost.
“Okay. Let’s… just get this over with. Then I’ll go.”
“That’s all I ask.” Naked relief filled his tone. He stepped in front, leading the way. Starlight followed behind. She felt exhausted.
Just a bit longer, and she could flee. Hide in Trixie’s wagon. Trixie wouldn’t even ask questions. And Starlight knew where Trixie hid her hard cider.
The door to the lab loomed like the gate of Tartarus; somehow both forbidding and terrifyingly final. One more door, one more barrier, then all of this could be over. Starlight could mourn and then move on. She didn’t even slow at the door, she pushed herself forward, her horn lighting to open the door, perhaps a little too violently.
Fluttershy was there, startled into the air by the slamming door. Dusk was there, waiting with blatant anxiety in his eyes. The entire room was spotless, a miracle of cleaning and organizing, especially in the short time since Starlight had seen it last.
Behind them both was the only object left on the floor: a tarp, the same one that had been there earlier. Only now Starlight could see something glowing from underneath, regular pulses flashing in yellow and magenta light.
“Oh good, you came,” Fluttershy said, as Dusk stared at Starlight. She tried to read his expression, but it was impossible. A billion emotions seemed at war on his expressive face, his eyes darting nervously between her and Sunburst. His muzzle slid back and forth between a hopeful smile and a worried frown.
Fluttershy landed, furling her wings, and shot Dusk a significant look. “I’ll leave you three to yourselves, then.”
“You could stay?” Dusk said uncertainly, but Fluttershy shook her head.
“This is a private moment.” She trotted towards the door, before pausing next to Starlight. She leaned in, her lips close to Starlight’s ear as she whispered. “Remember, it’s okay to reach for the things you want sometimes. You don’t always have to sacrifice for those you love. You can be happy, too.”
It was cryptic, and Starlight turned to watch her go, her mouth open, ready to question. But Fluttershy merely smiled over her shoulder, before closing the door behind her.
But she didn’t have time to wonder. Dusk cleared his throat, and she turned back towards him. Sunburst stood alongside her. She felt his hoof around her shoulder; it was weak and tentative, as if he wasn’t sure if she’d even accept a hug right now.
Maybe she should have shoved him off, like she had earlier. But no matter what else was happening, she wanted the comfort of her best friend right now. Starlight leaned into the hug, and Dusk beamed.
“I… I might have made a mistake,” Dusk began carefully, one forehoof rubbing the front of his other. “When you said you wanted to leave. I…” He sucked in a quick breath and shook his head. “Horseapples. I’m doing this all wrong. It’s just this was all so sudden and I was caught off guard, I had so many plans but I didn’t realize you were hurting and now it might be too late only Rarity said it might not be so here we are and…”
“Dusk, love?” Sunburst interjected. “You’re panicking. Slow down and just show her, okay?”
“O-okay. Um, Starlight, I want you to know that no matter what happens next, I care about you. If you need to leave, I’ll support you no matter what you choose. You will always be my friend, even if life takes us in different directions.” His horn glowed, and he tugged at the edge of the tarp. “I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that, though. I really don’t want you to go. And maybe this can convince you to stay.”
With one last yank, he pulled the tarp back. Starlight slipped out of Sunburst’s hooves and stepped forward, her curiosity overcoming her trepidation.
Underneath the tarp was possibly the most intricate and complex magical circle she had ever seen. What appeared at first to be random patterns, on closer inspection turned out to be a dozen levels of fractal repetition, each set of circles smaller than the last until she could barely make out the precise markings. On top of that, the whole thing pulsed in steady intervals with alternating gold and magenta magic: Dusk’s and Sunburst’s magic, respectively.
It was a feat only possible with the most intricate magical control; there was maybe only a hoofful of ponies alive that could manage something this incredible. And one of them was standing proudly right next to her.
“What… what spell is this?”
“Something new. Something beautiful. Sunburst came up with it. This whole thing was his idea.” Dusk’s voice dripped with pride.
“But what does it do?”
“See if you can figure it out,” Dusk, ever the teacher, motioned to the circle. “Start at the biggest circle, ignore the repeated patterns, and see if you can intuit it.”
Starlight wanted to be annoyed. But the scholar in her, the educator, appreciated the challenge. She tried to tune out the obstructive fractals and the repeating pattern, instead following the overarching design.
“This… this is Starswirl’s time spell. But not. What…” her eyes flickered to Sunburst. “You changed Starswirl’s spell?”
“Changed its purpose, while building off the original design,” Sunburst whispered. “Don’t worry, I consulted him on the process. He was quite supportive of my idea.”
“I…” Starlight followed the arcane ley lines, her mind buzzing with memories. “This is different than the disaster I cast. Nopony could misuse this. There’s not even a usable portal, just…”
“A mirror,” Sunburst said. “A glimpse into alternate worlds, other realities. Other times and places, what could have been and what is, elsewhere.”
“But why? And why the infinite replication?”
“Why? Whose magic is powering the spell, Starlight?”
It was obvious from the color patterns. “It’s a melding of both of your essences. So when you touch the circle, you should be able to see visions of both of your lives, in other realities. Times you spend together in worlds you’ve never seen before.”
“Correct!” Dusk beamed, before pulling a small drawstring pouch off the table. “Only there’s something missing. Starlight, when we first became friends, you trusted me with this. I have never used it once. And today, if you say yes, I’d like to use it all up.”
He opened the pouch and floated out a small stoppered vial. The turquoise liquid inside bubbled and frothed, as if straining against its confines. Starlight’s heart thudded in her chest.
“My… my quintessence.”
It was her magical signature. The essence of who she was, the tether that kept her bound to her past and her sins.
“If I add this to the circle, the spell will forever be attuned to the three of us. Every time you touch the circle, you will be able to see a glimpse. Any of a hundred thousand lives where the three of us…” Dusk gulped. The rest came out as a whisper. “Where the three of us are together.”
Together.
“You can’t mean…”
Together.
The warmth that filled her was alien. Starlight wasn’t prepared. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t deserve…
Together.
“He means exactly what it sounds like, Starlight,” Sunburst said from next to her.
Starlight was speechless. She fell back onto her haunches, staring at the pulsing light. Yellow-magenta. Yellow-magenta. Over and over.
Together.
“It could be three.” Dusk’s words were an invitation; an open door to a future Starlight didn’t even dare dream of.
She stared at them both in turn, as Sunburst looked at Dusk and nodded. Slowly, carefully, with his eyes on Starlight the entire time, he carefully pulled out the stopper and levitated the quintessence above the circle. Dusk then glanced at Starlight. He was waiting, she realized. Her throat was dry. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. So she nodded.
He upended the vial over the center of the circle. Glittering, glowing liquid magic spilled out slowly, floating more than falling, spreading over the circle as it pulsed in time with the magic. It sparkled down, flowing into the chalk lines.
At first, the flickers were weak. One pulse for every three or four of the others. But it grew stronger and stronger, until the heart of her magic beat in time with the others. Yellow-magenta-turquoise. Yellow-magenta-turquoise.
“Touch your hoof on the circle. It’s perfectly safe,” Sunburst said. “You’ll see.” He laughed. “Just don’t try any thaumo-molecular analysis spells.”
“Of course not,” she muttered. “That’d make the whole thing blow up.” Dusk blushed and rubbed the back of his head with one hoof. She resolved to tease him about it later, but now…
Starlight’s hoof moved almost all on it’s own. She touched the edge of the circle, and the whole world washed away.
Starlight Glimmer dashed through the snow, giggling like a tiny foal as Sunburst sprinted after her. His face was dripping with slush and bits of snowball, and floating behind him was an entire volley of frosty projectiles. But the grin on his face was genuine.
“Starlight? Sunburst?” Dusk’s voice came from an open window, at the castle’s second floor. “Come inside and I’ll make hot cocoa.”
Starlight jerked her hoof back. For an instant it had been totally real. She’d felt the easy familiarity of a long-standing relationship. But she needed to see more. She reached out again.
Sunburst and Starlight (and Starlight was a he! Starbright Shine, a stallion!) stood at the end of a red carpet, dressed in tuxedos. The two of them were blushing furiously, while a gray mare with a cello began the opening strain of a wedding march. Sunburst leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“It’s finally happening!” he whispered, and Starbright hushed him just in time to see Dusk in the most resplendent, Rarity-original perfect white wedding dress. Only it was a mare Dusk. She blushed, tucking a lock of her ringletted mane behind part of her royal tiara before she took the first hoofstep onto the red carpet.
Starlight felt out of breath as she stepped away again. In shock, she looked back and forth between Dusk and Sunburst. “I was… I was a stallion. And you were a mare!” she pointed a hoof at Dusk.
“Yeah,” Dusk chuckled. “It’s kinda odd how often our genders are mixed about in these alternate realities. We got used to it when we were first exploring early versions of the spell.”
“I think you look good either way,” Sunburst whispered. Silently Starlight was inclined to agree. “Twilight Sparkle.”
“Hush, ‘Sunny Day’,” Dusk blushed, waving a hoof. “But go on, Starlight. You can keep looking, if you…”
Starlight moved her hoof into the circle again.
The battlefield was scarred and pitted with a thousand craters, testament to the destructive power of Sombra’s hate. Starlight dashed desperately between them, searching, hoping, praying. Finally she found the remnants of a purple tent, a six-pointed star embroidered on the tattered remains.
“Please be safe, please be safe,” she whimpered, as a new salvo of explosions rained down on them. She barely put up her shield in time, covering herself and the limp forms within the broken tent. “Please please please!”
With her hooves, she yanked back the torn and filthy canvas to reveal the two bodies inside. Her heart pounded, expecting the worst. But their chests were moving. The Prince and the High Wizardess were alive! Breathing!
“I’ll get you out of here safely,” she swore to her two unconscious lovers. “I’ll do it if it kills me. I swear.”
Starlight was breathing hard when she pulled her hoof back. “Woah. Um. Are they… real?”
“As real as we are,” Sunburst said. “But we can’t make contact. The spell doesn’t allow it. We can only watch. I did it that way on purpose.”
“Why build this spell, though?”
“At first, I wanted to know if it would work. If…” Sunburst gulped. “If I could have my best friend in my family. In my… my marriage. I thought I was such a greedy pony. But when I finally was brave enough to suggest it to Dusk…” his eyes glowed with joy. “...I found out he felt the same.”
“I’ve never been the best at expressing myself, you know,” Dusk said. “So when it became clear that you were pushing me and Sunburst together, I was convinced you hadn’t noticed the signals I was trying to put up. I was sure you weren’t interested, so I gave up. And I found something with Sunburst I never thought possible. Something wonderful and beautiful and indescribable. But also incomplete.”
“But… Sunburst is good for you!” Starlight said. “I’m just a felon that got lucky! I’m no match for… for a prince.”
“Use the spell if you have to, Starlight. The three of us were made for each other, I think.” Dusk blushed, and pawed at the floor with his hoof. “Um. That’s unscientific, I know. But I don’t care about anything like that, Starlight. Do you know, in many realities I’m not even an alicorn? Sometimes you are. And no matter what, your past is what brought you to us. You are stronger and better because of what you overcame. And if anybody says differently, I’ll… I’ll banish them!”
He sounded so serious, so earnest, that Starlight had to giggle.
“This was going to be your Hearth’s Warming present, Starlight. But it’s not finished yet,” Sunburst said. “We… we had to move up the schedule a little. We didn’t realize… and it was our fault…”
“We hurt you, Starlight.” Dusk moved over next to her, with Sunburst on the other side. He reached out, his hoof waiting in the air. Asking. Starlight took it, and Dusk pulled her in, wings spreading wide enough for a hug that brought in both of them. “We didn’t know it, but we did. We’re so sorry.”
He stepped back then, and smiled at her. “Starlight. This whole thing was rushed. It went wrong. We wanted it to be romantic. To show you the spell, so you could see that we…” he waved a hoof, encompassing all three of them “...we work. We work beautifully. It didn’t work out that way, but I can’t say I’m too disappointed, as long as we can…” He paused, and grinned, an embarrassed little smirk. “I’m talking in circles. Let me start from the beginning. Starlight, I love you.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips gently against the Starlight’s stunned frozen cheek. “You’re brilliant, you’re brave, you’re so much more creative than I can ever hope to be. You bring light to everypony around you.”
“Starlight, I love you too,” Sunburst said, kissing her other cheek. “Since we were foals, you were by my side. Leaving you to go to school was the darkest period of my life. When you returned to me, when I finally let you back in, I have been happier than I’ve ever been.” His eyes misted as he looked up at Dusk. “You brought me my husband, a gift so precious I can never repay, except perhaps with an invitation.”
Starlight’s heart thudded. She was hearing unbelievable things. Feeling unbelievable things. The warmth of their lips on her cheeks stayed, lingering with a tingle of moisture and affection. The pulse of magic at her hooves
turquoise-yellow-magenta
was a heartbeat of love. It wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her. She didn’t deserve…
“There’s one more gift. It was supposed to be a part of the spell. We were going to tie it to the spell.” Sunburst fiddled with his glasses. “We still will, if you say yes. But once we put this in the circle, we can transfer the spell into it, creating a permanent artifact. A monument to what we share, what we have shared and will share across a thousand lifetimes. Something you can use, whenever you want, to remind yourself that you are loved.”
“What are you…”
Sunburst reached into one of the pockets of his cape, retrieving a small box. Starlight felt dizzy. Sunburst opened the box.
The horn ring was pure orichalcum. It was woven, three strands of shimmering silvery gold twisting around each other in a braid. It shone with the glow of the pulsing magic. The purity of potential.
This is…
“I…”
This is…
“But…”
This is…
“How can you…”
This is…
Sunburst set the box gently on the floor in front of Starlight, and then reached out with a hoof, brushing her cheek. On the other side, Dusk nuzzled her neck.
“We should have done this sooner. Starlight, will you join with us?”
Starlight carefully lifted the ring out of the box, feeling the weight of infinite potential. She did it with her hoof, not her magic. She felt the coolness of the metal on the frog of her hoof, and let the ring slide back and forth across the sensitive skin. Then, before she could second guess herself any longer, she thrust the ring towards the circle.
The magic pulsed brighter, flowing in a stream of tendrils into the softly glowing golden ring.
turquoise-yellow-magenta.
It seemed to quiver in her hoof, then slowly floated into the air above the magical circle, pulsing in time with the carefully drawn lines, spinning gently.
Starlight looked at the two stallions with tears in her eyes. The room blurred, and their smiles were impossibly warm and bright. Suddenly they were all pressed together, both holding her, pressing their warmth and their comfort against her.
After an indeterminate amount of time, Dusk reached out with his magic and pulled the ring over to float between them.
Each of the three woven bands gently glowed with a different aura.
