Little Wonders
by bats
Rainbow Dash stood at attention, her chest puffed out and her head held high. Her mask of stoic neutrality didn’t betray a hint of the turmoil coursing through her veins, demanding her immediate and violent escape. Her wings threatened to unfurl and carry her through the soft and puffy walls making up Spitfire’s office, but she kept them firmly folded to her sides. She wanted to fidget on her hooves. She wanted to look at something, instead of staring straight forward at the window directly above her commanding officer’s head and into the rising sun. From her peripheral vision she watched the mare scratch away at a stack of reports on her desk, eyes hidden and unreadable behind sunglasses, and waited.
Spitfire dropped the quill back into the inkpot from her teeth and popped the kink in her neck. She leaned back in her chair and expelled a controlled breath, her obscured gaze directed at the team lead. The silence in the room stretched out as Rainbow stood rigidly in place, her gold badge winking specks of light around the room with each breath. Spitfire leaned forward, resting her forelegs on her desk. Her voice was level and calm, filled with boundless authority. “Rainbow Dash.”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” Rainbow responded sharply.
Spitfire continued to scrutinize the young daredevil, her mouth drawn in a contemplative frown. She leaned back again suddenly, a frustrated grunt of a sigh escaping her muzzle. She pulled off her shades and folded them resolutely, giving Rainbow a piercing look with her uncovered eyes. “I’ve been put in a very difficult position, cadet.”
Rainbow didn’t move, her eyes locked forward and hard, her stance bold and stoic.
“I won’t mince my words, Dash. You are the best flyer this Academy has seen in a decade. You, personally, hold more academy records than any other cadet in the institution’s history.” Rainbow remained at attention, struggling to not crack a prideful smile on her expressionless muzzle. “You’ve broken every record held by Lightning Dust, half the records held by Speed Demon, and a few of my own records from my academy days. And you’ve done all this while keeping the safety and cohesion of your team as top priority. These are not achievements that should be taken lightly, by anypony.”
Rainbow remained still, despite her chest attempting to swell with pride and float her off the ground.
“But…” Spitfire let out a long and weary sigh, rubbing at her eyes. “But, we have a problem.” She affixed another piercing glare on Rainbow Dash. “You have a problem with authority.”
Rainbow’s mask broke, a scowl wrinkling her muzzle and brow. She opened her mouth to object.
“Attention, cadet!” Rainbow snapped back to neutral. “That right there. And it’s only a sampling—a small sampling—of the reports I’ve heard from the lieutenants. You are arrogant, a braggart, you complain, and you mouth off to your superiors. It was a problem in your first week with Lightning Dust, it was a problem when you brought Lightning Dust’s unbecoming behavior to my attention, and it never stopped being a problem.”
With an annoyed grunt, she flipped open a file on her desk and rifled through the pages. “Twelve write-ups, cadet, twelve. In a six month period. Every other week, Rainbow Dash. Every other week.” She scowled darkly, fixing her eyes back on the cadet. “I don’t know if you appreciate the gravity of this situation. Your exceptional skill has shielded you, perhaps unfairly. Any other cadet would’ve been tossed out on her flank five write-ups ago. And I know for a fact several of the lieutenants are soft on you, ignoring slip ups that they wouldn’t put up with from anypony else.”
Rainbow clenched her jaw, the thin line of her mouth stretching out a fraction as her muscles bulged.
Spitfire swung her chair around and stood, pacing back and forth behind her desk. “And now I have to do something about that snafu two weeks ago.”
A flinch sent a tremor down Rainbow’s spine, her wings fluttering against her uniform. She clamped them back to her sides.
“Going AWOL is heavily frowned upon, cadet.”
Rainbow opened her mouth, indignantly spouting, “I told you before, I—”
“Did I give you permission to speak?” Spitfire barked, wheeling around to face the mare. Rainbow snapped her jaw shut, a sullen pall thrown over her ready stance. The captain straightened her uniform with a hoof, resuming her pacing. “I am well aware of the report; during an experiment regarding unicorn magic, Princess Twilight Sparkle accidentally transposed your cutie mark with that of one of your friends, resulting in a specialized form of amnesia. An unusual occurrence, but acceptable.”
Rainbow’s jaw relaxed.
“But that’s not the whole story here, cadet. One day missed due to a magical mishap is one thing, but a full week is not.” Spitfire re-approached her desk, planting her forelegs wide on its surface, and frowned. “I’ve read about the incident. It wasn’t hard; the princess’ coronation has been national news for a fortnight. A week after the incident you were present at the coronation. And while the details of the accident have not been revealed, it’s been said that the princess had restored your cutie mark within twenty four hours. Twenty four hours. You missed the full week for a problem that was fixed in a day.”
Rainbow opened her mouth and clamped it shut again, her quickened breaths evident from the glinting of her badge.
Spitfire glared silently for a moment and then nodded once. “Permission to speak.”
“Ma’am, I felt it was my responsibility, to my friend and my country, to attend the coronation.”
Spitfire nodded slowly. “I understand that, cadet. Were you present at the academy, a leave of absence would have been granted. That does not excuse the full week.”
“I…” Rainbow fidgeted despite herself, her forward gaze breaking so she could look down at the floor. She straightened again. “I couldn’t leave at the time. What happened was a lot to deal with, ma’am.”
Spitfire’s frown deepened, disappointment coloring her voice. “And it comes back to insubordinate behavior, cadet. Extenuating circumstances can be taken into consideration and leaves of absence granted. Nopony has a perfectly predictable life. If you had checked in that second day, you probably would have been given the week off to settle your affairs. Why didn’t you?”
Rainbow opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She shifted on her hooves and looked away, a reflective frown on her muzzle. A flash of pain shone clearly in her eyes in a fleeting moment before she turned back to Spitfire. “The academy has my full apology ma’am. I have no excuse for my actions.” She shuffled her hooves and looked down again. Her voice grew quiet. “…I had a lot on my mind at the time.” Staring into the cloud floor, Rainbow became lost in thought, drifting out of the room and back to Ponyville. Back to the main room of the library, with its cozy living walls, dry and dusty bookshelves, and blackened scorch mark on the floor. She blinked, coming out of a reverie and back to the present. She quickly snapped back to attention.
Spitfire said nothing for several moments, frowning deeply and staring at her desk. She lifted her sunglasses from the surface and flicked them open, recovering her eyes. “…You remind me a lot of myself, Rainbow Dash. You have a fiery spirit, you refuse to give up, and you’d stand by the ponies around you to your dying breath. You’re an exemplary flyer and an exemplary pony, worthy of respect anywhere in Equestria. Your ability in the air is, quite frankly, unequaled by anypony I’ve ever met. It is with extreme reluctance that I have to do this.” She cantered around her desk, her movements fluid and practiced.
Her hoof reached up and grasped the gold team lead medal on Rainbow’s uniform, gently pulling it out of the fabric. Her voice grew level and formal again as she said, “Rainbow Dash, you have officially been discharged from the Wonderbolt Academy. You will be escorted from the grounds immediately. The contents of your locker will be mailed to you within three weeks’ time.”
Rainbow stood painfully rigid, her blank expression strained and cracking. She couldn’t see through Spitfire’s lenses, but she swore she could read disappointment in the mare’s face. Maybe she was just seeing her own reflected in the mirrored shades. Her heart thundered violently in her chest and her lungs threatened hyperventilation, but she quelled her body’s impulses with focused will and inhaled deeply. She puffed out her chest with all her might and raised a hoof in bold salute, her expression hard, her presence commanding; the natural physical charisma that left her former team in awe with more ease than any flashy stunt or expert flying.
Spitfire backed up a pace and saluted Rainbow in response, a strong and energetic whip of her hoof to her forehead, the motion emphatic and filled with respect. “Dismissed.”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.” Rainbow called, her voice strong and bold. Their hooves swung down in perfect synchronization. Rainbow turned and cantered from the room, her head high and her spine straight, a paragon of pride and discipline.
She wouldn’t, she couldn’t let Spitfire see her cry.
Twilight listened to the scratch of quill on paper as she paced around the room, glancing over every few minutes to make sure her magical grip hadn’t faltered. She had been known to write past the bottom of the page and start making notes on the desk surface when she wasn’t paying attention. No amount of cleaner in Equestria got out all the ink stains from her poor desk’s scratched and worn surface.
“Okay,” she muttered to herself, setting the feather back in its inkpot and floating the sheet to her face. “This week’s checklist for library stuff is done.” She read over the list of tasks, and then read over them again. Satisfied, she nodded once and floated it back to her desk, tapping out the excess ink from her quill and drawing a fresh sheet of paper to the surface. “Now…checklist for princess duties…” The quill hovered close to the creamy sheet of parchment. A bare inch from pressing down, it stopped in midair, a quiver ruffling the vane.
Twilight stared across the room at her writing tools, unmoving. Her large wings twitched at her sides and her mind clouded over with a buzzing cacophony of unvoiced thoughts. She frowned. “Princess duties…” The hazy jumble grew louder and she shook her head. “Ugh. This can wait.” She set the feather back in the inkpot and retrieved her completed library list, the wet ink still catching glints of light. A smile lit up her face and she chimed brightly, “I’ll just get started on library administration,” to herself. With a bounce in her step, she cantered down the stairs and into the main room of the tree.
Spike hopped down from the shelf ladder and smacked the dust off his claws. “Well, heya, Twilight! I thought you were gonna be making lists all morning.”
“Change of plans, Spike. I finished the library checklist and wanted to get an early start.” She grinned at the sheet of paper. “There’s just something so soothing about organizing things.”
The little dragon snorted, sliding the ladder to the next shelf. “You should tell Rainbow Dash to crash in through the window more often, then.”
Twilight’s smile faded and her brow knit, her eyes still scanning the list but not reading anything. From a thin line, her muzzle pressed into a contemplative frown. “…I haven’t seen Rainbow Dash in a while. Have you?”
“Nuh uh,” Spike mumbled, climbing up the ladder with a stack of sorted books. “Not since your coronation.”
Twilight’s frown deepened. “That’s the last I saw her, too. Where could that pony disappear to for three weeks?” Spike shrugged his shoulders as he restocked the shelf. Twilight blinked herself out of her contemplation and shook her head. “Anyway, I’ll help you reshelve the returns.” She let the list curl up in a tube and dropped it on the reading table. “So let’s get started!”
Spike smirked. “Way ahead of ya.” He leapt to the floor and slid the ladder to the next shelf.
Twilight flitted around the library, reshelving and dusting, taking inventory, and going over the log books. By mid-afternoon, half her list for the week had been marked off and she was left with one large task. The blackened scar of her cutie mark still emblazoned on the floor, marring the gentle swirl of wood grain across half the boards. She stuck out her jaw and hovered a mop and a couple buckets from the closet.
Spike stretched out his back, sighing in satisfaction at the series of pops. “You gonna try to get that out again? It’s hopeless.”
“Nothing’s hopeless,” she muttered petulantly, brandishing the mop at the smudge in a hostile manner. “Third time’s the charm, right?”
“Fifth.”
“Fifth time’s the charm, right?” Twilight’s smile took on a manic and predatory quality. Spike gulped audibly. The alicorn’s eye twitched.
Backing up a step and wiping at his brow, Spike stammered out, “It’s…it’s not that big of a deal, Twilight. It’s just a mark. And it’s from when you became a princess! You should keep it!”
Twilight froze in place, the crazed grin sliding off her features. Her gaze shifted back to the floor and a wave of nausea passed over her belly. She groaned in frustration and stamped her hoof. “Spike! I can’t go around running a library that looks like my butt exploded on the floor! It has to go!” She stomped off to the kitchen, carrying the buckets in her magic.
Spike rolled his eyes. “Alright, whatever you say, Twilight. I’m gonna head out for a few hours if that’s alright with you.” A dismissive grunt echoed from the kitchen as Twilight turned on the tap. Sighing and shaking his head, the dragon headed out the door, calling brightly over his shoulder, “Don’t hurt yourself!”
Twilight ground her teeth together as the door clicked shut. “That little rotten…” she muttered under her breath, “when I get ahold of him, I swear to Celestia…” She tromped back to the main room, steaming bucket of suds in tow. She attacked the floor with relish using her own four hooves, throwing her weight against the mop handle and digging into the hardwood as deeply as she could.
Sweeping a foreleg across her brow, Twilight expelled a long breath. “Whew!” She directed a pleased, and maybe a little vindictive, smile at the soapy floor. “That had to’ve done it.” She levitated a second bucket of clean water from the kitchen and upturned the contents over the frothy mess.
Her breath caught in her throat. The rush of clean water pushed the suds away and there on the floor, just as dark, just as clear, just as vibrant, sat the mark. “No,” she whispered. A hoofheld scrubbing bush floated from the closet and over her foreleg and she fell onto her knees, scratching at the floor. “No, it has to go away.” She scrubbed and scrubbed, her leg growing tired, then sore, then burning from the exertion, her mane slicked to her forehead, her teeth grit and eyes sharp and narrow. “Come out, just come out.”
She pulled the brush away. The harsh bristles had dug grooves into the floor, scuffing down to lighter, unstained wood. Everywhere except the sooty star. The same scratches ran into the surface, but the interior wood was just as black, just as marked as the old and well waxed board’s exterior.
The brush clattered to the floor as Twilight scrambled to her hooves and backed away. “No,” she whispered. “No, it has to come out. I can’t…” She sunk to her haunches. “I can’t let it stay here.” She swallowed thickly, her eyes wide. She had to replace half the floor. Tear it out, board by board, strip and re-stain all of the wood until nopony could see the patch. It was the only way.
“It can’t stay here,” she whispered.
Twilight fled back up the stairs, her hooves a thundering clatter in her haste. She skidded to a halt at her desk, the clean and crisp sheet of paper waiting for her list of princess duties staring back at her. Mocking her. She closed her eyes forcefully. All she could see in her mind was the burn on the floor.
Feeling her breaths quicken alarmingly, Twilight struggled to find poise. She lifted herself to her full height and inhaled deeply, drawing a hoof to her chest. Expelling the breath and extending the hoof out, she pushed away her scattered thoughts and sought clarity.
What was going on in her mind?
It’d been gnawing at her for three weeks now, but she’d been too distracted to really take the time and parse out her thoughts. Her head was a mess. She stared at the blank sheet and watched a cacophony of imagined words crowd out the page, an illegible spattering of half-thoughts and wheedling impulses.
The clutter ate at the mare. She couldn’t stand it; she felt like she was staring at Rarity’s inspiration room. ‘Organized chaos my left hoof.’
It was time to regroup and retreat to where Twilight was always the most comfortable. Sorting, analyzing, cataloguing, and interpreting. Time for a list. She almost smiled.
Calm and centered, she cantered to her desk and sat down. Her horn lit up and she ruffled the vane on her quill before changing her mind. Frowning slightly, she reached forward with her head and grasped the end of it in her teeth. It felt wrong to use magic for some reason. She shrugged minutely and scratched away at the paper. Her brow wrinkled in focus as she worked, pulling away and examining her progress. Her mouthwriting, unpracticed for well over a decade, was a messy and blotchy scrawl across the top of the page, barely discernible as its intended message: “Twilight’s Feelings.”
The slow and halting movements of the feather across the page held a primal satisfaction for the mare. She worked carefully and blocked out all outside distractions. A sense of order settled over her, converting feelings into words and transcribing those words with no magic in imprecise and shaky glory. Twilight didn’t think about what she was writing, focusing more on the act itself, entering an almost meditative trance. She relished in the quiet of her mind, reluctant to pull herself back to conscious analysis when she had finished. She dropped the quill back in the inkpot and shook out the stiffness in her neck, sighing in satisfaction.
“Now let’s see,” she said, going back over her list. Despite the time it took to write, it was short and her penmanship was truly atrocious; she had to squint to actually read the paltry collection of words and phrases. Adding ‘practice mouthwriting’ to her mental list of to-dos, she read the page aloud, her voice dropping in volume as she went. “Scared. Out of control. Isolated. Distanced. Overwhelmed…” She trailed off, her eyes scanning the last word over and over. “…Betrayed.”
Twilight dropped the page back to the desk and sat back, her eyes wide and unfocused. “Do I really feel that way?” She looked fitfully around the room. The low ache in her forelegs reminded her of the desperate and unsuccessful cleaning. It made sense now; a bold reminder of this happening so irrevocably scarred into her world agitated her already boiling subconscious.
It occurred to the alicorn that she hadn’t noticed Rainbow’s absence because she’d barely seen any of her friends. After the coronation, it had been a week before things were settled enough to try resuming her life. She threw herself back into her work in the library, shutting herself away with Spike. The bare amount of royal duties asked of her had been consistently avoided, rushed, or put off. She had seen Rarity and Fluttershy when they had both stopped by the library to check out books and she had seen Pinkie Pie and Applejack in passing at the market, but her social interactions had been practically nonexistent. She was living as a hermit once again.
Suddenly the library felt like a prison.
Twilight sighed a long breath through her snout. She needed to clear her head. Standing and cantering out of her bedroom, she headed back downstairs. The cutie mark burn continued to show clearly and she glared venomously. With a flick of her horn, she flipped the sign in the front window from open to closed. Huffing one last time at the mark, she headed to the kitchen. With a small amount of agitation in her search, she filled a saddlebag with several slices of bread, a half dozen daisies, and a bottle of juice: enough food to keep her away from the library for several hours. She frowned in determination and marched back through the main room, not looking at the floor, and out the front door.
She smiled, tasting the summer afternoon on the back of her tongue. Ponyville was the same quiet little town it always had been; more of a home to her than Canterlot ever was. She felt better just being outside and a realm of possibilities lay at her hooves. Humming cheerfully to herself, she panned the skyline. The glittering speck of Horeshoe Lake off in the distance caught her eye and she immediately set off at a trot. A picnic at the lake would do her a world of good.
Inhaling deeply, Rainbow Dash let the wild, fishy smell of the lake wash over her senses. She expelled the breath slowly, sinking further into the sandy shore. She laid down on her back and stared up at the cloudless sky, trying not to think, at least not coherently. It wasn’t hard; her head had been a jumble of half ideas and images for weeks. Letting her chest rise and fall, she drew the scent of wilderness into her body, driving away her conscious thoughts, looking for a reprieve from the endless loop of pointing blame. She attempted to lose herself, if only for a passing moment.
Sighing, Rainbow sat back up and gazed across the gently rippling body of water. It was peaceful here. For two weeks, she had been drawn to this exact spot to…well, she wasn’t sure what she came to do exactly. Purposefully avoiding thought had the nasty habit of resulting in Rainbow not thinking about her actions. It was one of her worst habits, she knew, but it was a fairly constant fallback.
Thinking about not thinking drew a groan from the mare and she rubbed her forehead slowly. Sighing, Rainbow slumped, rounding her shoulders and hanging her head. “Just shut up,” she weakly commanded herself, “just let it slide.”
It used to be so easy to not think. Rainbow Dash: world-class daredevil, lead weather pegasus, master of not thinking. Whenever she found herself hounded or haunted, a single flick of her wings lifted her spirits as high as her body, up above the clouds. So many anxieties and troublesome worries were washed away by the screaming winds and roaring peals of her own laughter.
Flying hurt now. It made her think.
Two weeks. Two weeks of being frightened of flying. Every morning she rolled out of bed, showered, brushed her teeth and mane, and practically plummeted off the side of her home to the ground, traveling on hoof. Every day she turned away from the sight of the outskirts of Ponyville and headed for the tranquil isolation of the lake. And every night she retreated back to her house like a fugitive, flying up as quick as she could from directly underneath.
She sighed again, lazily watching the gentle waves across the water’s surface. She might not be able to avoid thinking, but not moving was easy. She had a lot of practice refining that talent as well. Rainbow Dash: champion slacker. There were some teachers, coaches, and bosses she could imagine saying, “Told you so. Just what I said you’d be doing.”
“Alright then,” she mumbled to her hooves, “if I gotta think, think already. Rainbow Dash, you’ve just lost your dream, how do you feel about that?”
Rainbow didn’t know. She snorted derisively at herself and rolled away from the view of the lake and onto her belly. She rested her head on her hooves and closed her eyes. “Some help thinkin’s been,” she murmured. It was time to try a different tactic.
Rainbow Dash: Equestria’s top napper.
Hovering on the cusp of conscious, Rainbow focused on the scent in the air and the warm sun on her head and back. She stretched her wings to her sides and let rays of light catch and reflect off her shiny feathers, feeling them gently ruffle in the breeze. Like most of her other expert skills lately, sleep eluded her.
“Great,” she muttered, scrunching her eyes and wriggling into the sand, making a pegasus-shaped groove. “Can’t even slack off right.” She let out a long and frustrated huff.
Rolling onto her back and staring blankly skyward, she idly brushed the sand from her chest. “I can’t do anything right.”
Rainbow was struck by a sense of vertigo, staring up into expansive blue. Suddenly she felt like she was in a spinning tumble going ever upwards into the endless sky, making her stomach lurch violently sideways. She slammed her eyes shut, but the spin continued inside her lids.
She grit her teeth until her jaw ached. She could taste bile on the back of her throat and saw stars on the inside of her tightly scrunched eyelids, spinning with the world. Rainbow Dash was caught in a free-fall. She’d been in a free-fall for weeks.
No, that wasn’t right.
Rainbow Dash had been in a free-fall for years. Every step forward she’d taken had been a heedless charge. Every charge had pushed her back two steps. A constant war of attrition between herself and…and herself.
She groaned and rolled back over, burying her whirling head in her hooves. Her mind buzzed loud enough to make her ears feel warm and stuffed up. This cycle of lazy, thoughtless days couldn’t last. Something had to break, and break soon; this wasn’t in her nature. Rainbow Dash was a mare of action. But she had no idea what action to take.
Rainbow Dash was at a loss. For the first time in her daring, devilish life, the only thing that occurred as a viable action was nothing. As foolhardy as it had been in the past, Rainbow followed her instinct. She closed her eyes and wished for sleep to overtake her.
Sleep wouldn’t come. The scent, sound, and sensation of the gentle breeze and rippling lake lay like a heavy blanket across her back, pinning her to the itchy sand, trapping her there with her endless, unanswerable thoughts.
What in Equestria was Rainbow Dash supposed to do now?
Rage surged through her veins, the emotion hot, thick, and stranglingly tight. She leapt to her hooves, an inarticulate scream tearing its way from the depths of her lungs out through her throat. She slammed her foreleg into the beach, sending a puff of sand skittering away. She slammed her other leg down. Blow after blow dropped into the soft ground, each strike tremoring her endless yell from the force of the impact.
Hot tears streamed down her face, her complexion blossoming red and her voice growing hoarse. Her strikes lost coherent rhythm, an unsteady blitz of disordered and wild flailing. On an unfocused haymaker, she slipped on the loose sand and flopped down onto her belly, a voiceless woof of air breaking her scream. She sucked in ragged breaths, her lids pressed shut to stem the flow from her eyes. She curled up in a miserable ball.
Finally, sleep came and she drifted into dreamless quiet, body and emotions worn bare and raw. Her reprieve was short lived as she was dragged back to wakefulness by the crunching patter of hooves on sand.
“Ra-Rainbow Dash?”
The mare cracked a bleary eye, rolling over to see who had woken her up. Twilight Sparkle stood uneasily a few paces away, satchel slung over her neck and a tentative look in her eyes.
Rainbow scrambled to her hooves, throwing a small spray of grit from her coat and mane. She was still covered from head to hooves in sand and her eyes were bloodshot. She lowered herself in a bow to her friend.
Twilight’s throat seized shut. Eyes wide and head shaking she took a step back. “N-no, d-don’t,” she choked, her voice small and wavering, “don’t, please.”
Straightening, Rainbow raised an eyebrow. Her eyes widened and her jaw went slack; Twilight was cringing back from her, tears streaming down her cheeks. She took a tremulous step, raising a hoof towards the alicorn.
“Don’t bow to me,” Twilight whispered. She sunk to the sand on her haunches, her head lowering and forelegs shaking. “Please don’t bow to me. I…I…” A strained sob broke her voice.
Rainbow rushed to her side. Concern colored her voice and features. “Twilight, what’s wrong?” The mare cried harder, raising her head to catch Rainbow’s gaze. Her face locked in a pained grimace, she slowly shook her head in dissent. Rainbow’s frown deepened. “Twilight?”
“I’m not better than you,” she whispered, her voice almost lost to the gently rocking waves, “I’m not better than you; I’m your friend. Please don’t bow.”
Rainbow stared at Twilight solemnly, helplessness settling back on her frame like a familiar and well-worn saddle. She opened her mouth, trying to find something to say. Twilight sniffled wetly, rubbing at her eyes with her hooves. “…Okay.” She laid her ears flat, feeling lame.
Twilight sniffed deeply again, taking several deep breaths. “S-sorry, Rainbow.”
Shaking her head dismissively, Rainbow set a hoof on the mare’s shoulder. “You alright, Twi?”
“I…” Twilight’s eyes searched Rainbow’s face: her worried and puffy eyes, her earnestly furrowed brow. “I don’t know.”
Rainbow nodded gently. She sat on her haunches facing the water next to Twilight, her hoof still on the alicorn’s shoulder. She gently guided Twilight around to face out over the lake with insistent pressure. Twilight allowed herself to be turned and felt Rainbow’s leg slide across her back and draw her into a sideways hug. “Talk to me about it, Twi.”
Twilight leaned into the embrace, letting her eyes drift shut. “I…I just don’t know, Rainbow. I’m so confused.”
Rainbow squeezed her briefly. “Just talk it out. I’ll try to understand. Why’d me bowing bother ya?”
Frowning, she expelled a long breath. “It’s…I…” Twilight growled in frustration. “You’re my friend, Rainbow. All you girls are my friends. Friends don’t…don’t bow to each other.”
Nodding remotely, Rainbow asked, “Why’s it a thing now? We bowed when…” trailing off, her frown deepening and her eyes trailing across the water, Rainbow lost herself in thought for a moment. She blinked and returned to the present, finishing, “…and at your coronation.”
Twilight murmured miserably, “Princess Celestia bowed…and then you all bowed and I didn’t know what to do. I was…I don’t know. Overwhelmed. Everything was happening so fast, Rainbow. And at the coronation it happened again. Everypony bowing to me. I don’t…” Her lip trembled and her voice cracked. “I don’t want that, Rainbow. It’s wrong.”
“How’s it wrong?”
Twilight’s frown slowly faded to a neutral line and she opened her eyes, staring vacantly across the open air. She sat, pressed up against Rainbow’s shoulder, and let her mind try and piece everything together. Where her head had been a jumbled mess, she found clarity in the simple serenity and presence of a friend. “Rainbow…D’you know why I became an alicorn? And I don’t mean that spell in the library, I mean why it worked.” Twilight felt her friend’s head shake against her and a slight tremor pass into her shoulder. “Magic is complicated and most ponies, even the most dedicated unicorns alive, only understand a piece of it. It exists in everything and is controlled by everything and we only understand the barest hint of it all.”
Rainbow frowned thoughtfully, listening to Twilight’s voice grow steadily more even.
“After Starswirl’s spell switched out everypony’s cutie marks, I had a realization about friendship. The rewrite of the spell might have triggered the transformation, but it was that realization, the full understanding of friendship’s strength and power.”
Rainbow nodded appreciatively. “I think I follow.”
Closing her eyes again, Twilight sighed. “…I figured it out ‘cause I didn’t have any friends for so long.”
She blinked. “You lost me.”
The barest blush of a smile graced Twilight’s lips. “When I was really little I was obsessed with books.” A sudden snort shook Twilight’s shoulder and she playfully pushed against Rainbow. “I know, I know. It didn’t really go away.” They shared a small chuckle. “I never looked for friends with other foals; I spent all my time reading and practicing magic. And when I got my cutie mark, I got worse. I…I don’t know if I can explain what it was like, being the personal student of the Princess. Everypony looked at me differently. They were something like…a combination of scared, awed, and doubtful. They’d quiz me, adults or foals, and it was like whatever I said didn’t actually matter…” She sighed, trying to organize her thoughts. “It was like…”
“…Like no matter what you did or said, you lost. If you did what they asked right, what they asked was too easy, but if it was super hard and you couldn’t do it, you were all hot air. An’ no matter how many things you got right, it was all ‘too easy’ for you until you didn’t get it. So you had to be faking ‘cause there was no way to win.”
Twilight sat back from Rainbow Dash, staring at her with widened eyes. “That’s exactly what it was like. How did—?”
Rainbow chuckled warmly and an honest grin spread across her muzzle. “Being ten years old and being the only pony alive to ever make a Sonic Rainboom’ll get you a lot of attention, too.”
Twilight slowly closed her slackened jaw and swallowed thickly. Her voice was detached and awed. “Every day was like a test…”
“...And every test was set up so you’d lose. And no matter how great you were…”
“…It wasn’t an achievement…”
“…Because you’re you.” Eyes locked, they fell into silence, looking at each other. Rainbow’s strained smile echoed the old pain in Twilight’s heart.
The alicorn shook her head faintly, marveling in the mare in front of her. “You understand.” Rainbow nodded, turning to look out over the lake. Twilight leaned back into her shoulder.
“So what’s this gotta do with you figurin’ out friendship?”
Twilight sat silently for a few moments, pressed into the first pony she had ever met that understood. “…Most ponies have a bunch of ideas about friendship growing up. What friends do together, what things you say or shouldn’t say, how to solve problems you’re having with a friend, that sorta stuff.”
Rainbow nodded.
“I didn’t have any of that. I didn’t know anything about what it was like to have friends. I had my parents, my big brother, Cadence, and Princess Celestia, who might’ve been a second mom. Everypony else wanted to test me, or was scared of me, until I was more scared of them. And then…I met you girls. And when you all came up the stairs when I was fighting Nightmare Moon and I realized how happy I was to see you…” Twilight’s voice wavered out and she wiped at her eyes.
Rainbow opened her mouth, but Twilight shook her head gently. Sniffling, she said, “I’m…I’m still so…so happy I found you and have you girls in my life now. When I think about what it used to be, my stomach knots up, Rainbow. That moment…that single moment when I figured out what friendship could be…that’s the best moment in my entire life.”
Rainbow felt Twilight lean into her more fiercely and she circled the mare’s shoulders with her hoof. Her heart thundered painfully and she felt light headed. She opened her mouth and a flash of pain raced across her face. She snapped her jaw shut again.
“Friendship’s been so precious to me these last few years, because I’d never had it before. I wanted to learn and understand it more than any book I’d ever read, any subject I ever researched. It became my life. And me being the pony I am, I figured it out.”
Twilight sat away slowly. Rainbow started to drop her hoof, but Twilight grabbed it and held it in place as she turned to look the pegasus in the eyes. “Tell me, Rainbow…why is it that my reward for understanding friendship better than anypony before is to be isolated? To have everypony bow to me, like I’m different, like I’m…not one of them anymore?” Her eyes shimmered with fresh tears. “Friendship is about equality between ponies, about being close to somepony for who they are. How can I have friends anymore if everypony acts like I’m above them? I…I don’t want this, Rainbow.” Her voice broke, wavering violently. “I don’t want to lose you.” She buried her face in Rainbow’s chest, heaving sobs into the mare’s sandy coat.
Rainbow hugged her friend fiercely, stroking Twilight’s mane. “You won’t lose me, Twi,” she whispered, “I promise. I promise I’ll always be your friend.” Twilight cried louder, clinging to Rainbow like a she was a life raft at sea. Her breaths came in hitches, slowly growing farther apart as her weeping quieted. Rainbow held her close and soothed her with gentle strokes of a hoof.
“Thank you,” she eventually whispered into Rainbow’s chest. “Thank you, Rainbow. I’m so scared. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be a princess.”
“What’s wrong with being a princess?”
Twilight’s breaths grew even and steady against Rainbow’s coat. For several moments she was silent in the mare’s embrace. “…Nothing, I guess. I just wanted to learn new things and have friends. That’s all I wanted out of life.”
Rainbow chuckled. “I don’t think being a princess’ll stop you from reading and hangin’ out, Twi.”
Sniffling again, Twilight smiled. Rainbow started to pull away, but Twilight pressed in forcefully to her chest. Her voice was very small to Rainbow’s ears. “Please…just hold me a little longer. I’m so scared.”
Rainbow paused, feeling her heart hammer wildly. She swallowed against her dry throat and pulled Twilight into a bear hug, nearly drawing the alicorn into her lap. She unfurled her wings and wrapped them around Twilight’s back. “I’m here, Twi. As long as you need me, I’m here.” Nuzzling against Twilight’s head, she rested her cheek in the mare’s mane and closed her eyes.
A gurgling rumble woke Rainbow up. She blinked blearily in the darkness, finding herself still holding Twilight. The gurgle sounded again, emanating from her friend’s belly. Twilight pulled away and coughed in embarrassment. “Erm…I think we both fell asleep.” Rainbow nodded, feeling a chill breeze coming in off the lake. She looked at the sky.
“Wow, it’s really late now.”
Twilight gurgled again and she chuckled awkwardly. “I’m kinda hungry.” She pulled her saddlebag around in front of herself, turning towards the lake. “I brought a bunch of food so I could have a picnic dinner…hours ago. You hungry, too?” Rainbow’s belly rumbled back in affirmation. Smirking, Twilight pulled out enough bread and daisies to assemble two sandwiches, floating together a quick meal in front of them.
Rainbow mumbled, “Thanks,” grabbing ahold of her sandwich and taking a large bite. Twilight set the bottle of juice in between them. They sat in peaceful silence, eating and staring out over the dark water, watching waves catch and reflect dappled specks of moonlight.
Twilight took a large gulp of juice and offered it to Rainbow, who took it with a smile. Twilight returned the grin, looking back out over the lake. “Thank you, Rainbow. For listening. I…I really needed it.”
Setting the half drained bottle back into the sand, Rainbow waved a hoof. “’Course, Twilight. You alright now?”
She sighed, pawing at the sand with a hoof. “Not really. I mean…” she frowned and lowered her head, “It…really means a lot to me that you’re gonna be there, Rainbow. It really, really does.” She looked back up, her voice low and vulnerable. “But I don’t know that the others will understand.”
“I’m sure they will.”
Twilight shrugged noncommittally. “Even if they do, it’s still different. Nopony on the street will ever look at me the same way again. I feel trapped, Rainbow.” Rainbow frowned around her mouthful of sandwich. “But…” Twilight looked back up and smiled warmly at Rainbow, a flood of relief cutting through the worry etched on her face. “If you’re there…If I have one pony who I know will be there, who understands me…maybe that’s enough.” She lowered her eyes, the smile still on her muzzle. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Rainbow swallowed too quickly, wincing at the discomfort. “’Course, Twi.” She took a deep drink from the juice and popped the rest of her sandwich in her mouth.
“…How are you doing, by the way? I haven’t seen you since the coronation and…” Twilight frowned thoughtfully. “Well, you didn’t seem very happy when I woke you up this afternoon.”
Rainbow chewed slowly, drawing out the time before she had to answer. She fidgeted on her haunches, looking away from her friend. Well after the bite had turned to unpleasant paste in her mouth, she swallowed. “…I…” Her voice wavered. She dropped her head and shrugged her shoulders, sinking several inches toward the sand in defeat. “I ruined everything.”
Twilight paused, the juice bottle half raised to her lips, ear flicking at the complete lack of strength and energy in Rainbow’s voice. She dropped the bottle back to the ground and turned to face the sagging mare. “Rainbow?”
“…It’s over, Twilight. I’m out.” She steeled herself and turned her head, resigned defeat and despair pouring off her face in waves. “I’ll never be a Wonderbolt.”
Twilight’s jaw went slack and her eyes widened. She inched closer and laid a hoof on Rainbow’s shoulder. Her voice was awestruck and disbelieving. “What happened?”
“I happened.” She dropped her head again. “It’s all my fault.”
“Rainbow…” Twilight scooched closer. “Please talk to me.”
Cringing away from Twilight, Rainbow forced herself to go speak, her voice strained and cracking. “I was supposed to go to the academy for a week when…and I didn’t remember my life, so I went to Fluttershy’s and tried to take care of the animals.”
Twilight’s breath hitched in her throat. “My spell kept you from going to a training week…Oh Celestia…Rainbow, I’m so sorry.” She trembled, not sure what to do with her hooves. She grew quieter as she talked. “You must hate me. How could I ever make it up to you? I can’t ever make it up to you…”
Sniffling loudly and wiping at her snout, Rainbow shook her head. “S’not your fault.”
“But the spell, and I messed everything up, and—”
“And you fixed it, Twi.” Rainbow's voice, flat and worn, cut through Twilight’s words. “I could’ve gone after and told ‘em what happened. Spitfire said she would’ve given me the time off for it. But I didn’t go.” Twilight gaped, her throat working but no sound coming out. Rainbow rocked gently back and forth on her haunches, looking down. “S’not your fault.”
Twilight was shaken, barely taking in Rainbow’s words through the sheer, overwhelming weight of her demeanor. She’d never seen Rainbow so shattered. She fought against her own paralysis, gaping in dismay at Rainbow Dash. The mare let out a sigh, filled with resignation. “It was just the last straw. If it wasn’t this, I would’ve said something stupid one too many times to the wrong pony.” She started to shake her head, the motion mechanical and not driven by conscious thought. “I wasn’t ever gonna make it.” Her voice cracked miserably, barely above a whisper. “I’m too much of a failure.”
Twilight’s frozen mind broke free. “Rainbow Dash!” she cried out, forcefully grabbing the mare by the shoulders and dragging her face to face. “Don’t ever say that! You’re not a failure!”
Rainbow’s eyes were glazed and distant, not taking in Twilight’s searching face. “Sure, I am,” she muttered flatly, “all I’ve ever been’s a failure.”
Twilight held Rainbow’s face in her hooves, shock and fear bleeding out of her. “That’s not true,” she whispered, “you’re not a failure at all.”
Rainbow snorted derisively, the sound somehow weak and devoid of emotion. She twisted out of Twilight’s grip, looking back over the water. “What’ve I done that wasn’t a failure, exactly?”
Twilight shook her head helplessly. She struggled to think straight. “The Sonic Rainboom.”
“Feh.” Rainbow swept a hoof through the air, batting at nothing. “Ten years old, do it once, spend ten years trying to do it again. Ten years, Twilight.”
“You can do it whenever you want now,” she answered breathlessly.
“And a bunch of good it does me.” The mare sighed long and low, sinking further towards the sand. “Rainbow Dash: one-trick-pony, flight school drop-out, dead-end weather mare…” her voice cracked, “…discharged Wonderbolt cadet…” A dam broke. Hot tears rolled down her face and she grimaced, her muzzle pulled open wide in a leering frown, her teeth grit tightly. Her whole body quaked, shaking her hooves and her voice. “I messed it all up. So what’s new? I’m just so…useless.”
Twilight stood suddenly. She whipped around to Rainbow’s front and fell back to her haunches. She swept Rainbow Dash into her forelegs, her wings springing open from her sides and dragging the mare into her chest. Rainbow stiffened in her grasp, but she held tight. “Rainbow Dash,” she breathed, her voice both kind and admonishing, “You’re not useless. You’re one of the bravest ponies I’ve ever met, charging in to save everypony without a second thought.”
Twitching in her grasp, Rainbow protested weakly, “Okay, but—”
“I’m not finished. You’re kind and empathetic; anypony can count on you to hear them out and offer a shoulder to lean on. You’re honest and true, you’re generous of your time and resources, and you can make anypony smile. You’re wonderful, Rainbow Dash, and you’ve never failed me. Whenever I needed you, you’ve come through.”
“You’re lying,” Rainbow’s voice hitched as she shook her head, the motion violent and jerky. “You’re lying, Twilight. I abandoned everypony when Discord broke free; I failed the whole town.” She struggled out of Twilight’s embrace enough to look her in the eyes, her cheeks smeared and matted from her tears and her eyes bloodshot. The misery in her voice made Twilight’s heart thump painfully. “And…and I failed you when you knew something was wrong with Cadence. When you needed me, I turned my back on you.”
Re-strengthening her hold, Twilight drew Rainbow back to her chest. “It is true, Rainbow. You’ve never failed me.” The mare struggled again, but she held tight. “Discord controlled your mind; as soon as you were free of him you were right back by my…by everyone’s sides. You didn’t fail us. Discord failed to change you.”
“But—”
“And you didn’t fail me at the wedding because I’ve already forgiven you.” Rainbow stilled in Twilight’s hooves, her breaths evening out. “Everypony makes mistakes, Rainbow Dash. I was upset at the time and it was easy for everypony to think I was wrong. Mistakes don’t define failure, though.” She drew Rainbow up by her chin, looking into her confused eyes. “You were there every minute afterwards, Rainbow. You made up for any amount of failure as soon as you knew the truth. You all did. And you’ve been there every day since. Don’t think I never noticed.” She watched confusion change to surprise in Rainbow’s eyes. A small smile forced its way onto Twilight’s lips. “Ever since the wedding, you’ve been…more there, I guess. Even when you weren’t around, you’ve been there for me every day. You’ve never failed me, Rainbow.”
Rainbow searched Twilight’s eyes, looking desperately for a shred of dishonesty. There had to be some; she didn’t deserve Twilight’s forgiveness. The alicorn’s eyes only held sincerity. Rainbow’s heartbeat surged violently, her temples pulsing and her ears burning. A sob tore its way out of her throat and she threw herself into Twilight’s embrace, clinging to the mare and crying into her neck. “I’m sorry!” she choked out, “I should’ve listened to you! I was so caught up with everypony else I turned my back on you! How can you forgive me? How can—?”
Twilight stroked Rainbow’s mane with a hoof, tightening the grip of her wings. “It’s all in the past, Rainbow. Of course I forgave you. I forgave all of you. You were just doing what you thought was right.”
Rainbow shook her head emphatically. “We messed up, Twi. I messed up. Again.”
“Shh…” She nuzzled comfortingly into Rainbow’s mane. “Everypony makes mistakes, Rainbow. Weak ponies cover them up or run away from them. You face yours and show all of Equestria that you’re not going to make them again. That’s the measure of a mare. It’s not the mistakes; it’s how you live with them.”
Rainbow’s vice-like grip slowly lessened and her breathing gradually evened out as Twilight spoke. She was calm again and the haunting emptiness didn’t re-enter her voice. “I’ve made so many mistakes, Twi. I’ve spent my whole life making mistakes.”
“Me too, Rainbow. I think that’s true of everypony.”
Breathing gently into Twilight’s neck, Rainbow closed her eyes. She focused on the feeling of Twilight’s wings around her back and the hoof running through her mane. “Thank you, Twi.” She felt Twilight nod against her. She tried to shut out the world again and fade into thoughtlessness, but her mind continued to turn, playing through unanswerable questions in a loop. She sighed and sat back slowly. “What’m I gonna do now? Being a Wonderbolt is…was my dream, Twi. It’s what I’m supposed to do.” She regarded her flank in the moonlight, its colors muted and gray. “…It's what my cutie mark’s tellin’ me. Without the ‘Bolts…” She released a long breath, sinking into herself. “I dunno who I am anymore.”
“Rainbow…” Twilight drew her friend’s face back to hers by the chin. “You are who you are. Your cutie mark doesn’t make you who you are, and neither do the Wonderbolts.”
Rainbow closed her eyes and drooped her ears. “But it was my dream.”
“I know,” she said quietly, “I’m so sorry, Rainbow.”
Smiling weakly in gratitude, Rainbow hung her head again. “What’m I supposed to do now? I…For as long as I can remember, I thought I was gonna be a Wonderbolt. I don’t…I never thought about doing anything else. What do you do when you lose your dream?”
Twilight reached forward and raised Rainbow’s face back up. “You make a new dream.”
“…Where do I even start?”
Twilight searched her friend’s face, frowning in dismay. “Well…” She sighed, and slid across the sand next to Rainbow, looking back out over the lake. The pegasus leaned into her shoulder. “Tell me…What is it that you were looking to get out of being in the Wonderbolts? You’re an amazing flyer already, Rainbow. You could just do it for fun?”
Rainbow leaned further into Twilight, resting her head against the mare. The small amount of contact with another pony carried a primal comfort she relished. “I’ll probably always fly for fun, Twi. At the academy, after we were done for the day, I’d go flying to unwind from all that flying.”
Twilight smirked and rolled her eyes. “I don’t doubt it for a second.” Rainbow chuckled weakly. “Well if it isn’t the flying, what is it? I can’t imagine it’s the hierarchal structure or rigid scheduling.”
Rainbow silently nodded in agreement, looking up at the crescent moon working its way across the night sky. She judged from the current height, it might be ‘really early morning sky’ instead. “It’s…”
The mare trailed off and lapsed into stillness. Twilight waited for Rainbow to finish for a few minutes, before pressing, “What, Rainbow? You can tell me.”
“It’s stupid. You’ll think I’m being dumb.”
Sighing, Twilight wrapped her hoof around Rainbow’s shoulders. “Rainbow Dash, you are not dumb. You’re one of the smartest ponies I’ve ever met. Sure, you’re not interested in academic pursuits, but you’re quick on your hooves and you pick up ideas quickly. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I promise I won’t laugh or think less of you.”
Closing her eyes and trying to slow her racing pulse, Rainbow took a deep and slow breath. “…If I was a Wonderbolt…everypony who called me a fake or a failure would eat their words. Ponies would look at me and know I deserve it. They’d say, ‘Rainbow Dash really is the best flyer.’” She fell back into silence and kept her eyes shut, listening to the gentle roar of the lake.
They sat together in the small hours of the morning for a long time. When Twilight spoke again, her voice was very quiet. “You don’t need to be a Wonderbolt for that.” She turned towards Rainbow and hugged her with both forelegs. “You’re already the best flyer I’ve ever seen. You’re not a fake or a failure, and nopony could convince me otherwise.”
Rainbow’s lip quivered and she pressed herself into Twilight’s neck. Her voice wavered when she half whispered, “Thanks, Twi. That…thanks.”
“…You gonna be okay?” she whispered back.
“…I don’t know.” She pulled back from the hug, smiling wanly at Twilight. “It’s…gonna take a long time for me to figure out what to do now. Who I am.”
“You are Rainbow Dash.” Twilight prodded the mare with her hoof. “Nopony can change that.”
Nodding and looking away, she murmured, “I just need to figure out who ‘Rainbow Dash’ is.” She turned back to Twilight. “But…well, if I have one pony on my side who understands me…maybe that’s enough.” Her smile grew warmer and Twilight matched her with a grin of her own. “Thank you, Twi. For being there for me. I…I really, really needed it.” Rainbow’s voice cracked again and she drew Twilight back into a hug. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Twilight whispered, hugging Rainbow back. She frowned despite herself. While nothing was really resolved for either of them, she felt better and she could hear in Rainbow’s voice that her friend felt better, too. But the alicorn couldn’t shake the notion that she had missed something of vital importance. It couldn’t be the end of their conversation, because something wasn’t adding up. Her mind somersaulted trying to point a hoof at the feeling of unease that crept into her veins.
Twilight’s eyes shot open with realization. She pulled back from the embrace, catching Rainbow’s confused and bloodshot gaze with her wide and disbelieving eyes. “Rainbow Dash,” she exclaimed breathlessly, “you’ve been dealing with this for two weeks and you let me moan and cry about being a princess at you?”
Rainbow’s bewilderment grew. “Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
Twilight stammered, “B-but I was being silly and you were hurting so much! W-why’d you listen? You were the one who needed somepony!”
“You needed somepony, too,” she answered simply.
Twilight’s heart hurt. Her eyes stung and her breaths quickened. She grit her teeth against her desire to cry and pulled Rainbow back into a hug, strong and fierce. “Of course you’d say that,” she whispered. “Of course you’d say that; you’re you. You’re always like that. It’s just who you are.” Helpless wetness ran down her cheeks. “Rainbow Dash, you’re the greatest pony I’ve ever met.”
Overwhelmed and with hot tears spilling down her face, Twilight unthinkingly turned her head and pressed her lips into Rainbow’s cheek.
Rainbow gasped.
Twilight’s lips left Rainbow’s cheek as she quickly pulled back. Rainbow stared wide-eyed at the mare, searching her face, struggling to remember to breathe. Twilight stared back at her, her large eyes and pink cheeks still trailing tears, but her expression holding only numb shock.
An unhealed wound in Rainbow’s heart tore wide and ragged. Sparks of trepidation, happiness, fear, pain, joy, and despair battled through her mind and body, hidden behind her surprised eyes. A door in her mind she had thought closed forever opened, and she tentatively peered into it. It would be better, she knew it would be better to just close it again, but she couldn’t stop herself from looking.
Rainbow knew it didn’t have to mean anything more than gratitude and platonic affection. She knew it might just be an accident; a slip of emotion that didn’t spell anything deep. She found herself wishing to her very core that it meant more, but reading Twilight’s face left only questions. Questions that could be answered, or questions that could be ignored, swept under the rug, and forgotten. Well, not forgotten. Never forgotten. But diminished to a whisper of a dream.
She had spent her life acting without thinking. It had cost her so much. She knew the smart thing to do would be to quell her instincts to act. The cautious, rational part of her demanded she still the thundering of her heart and the burning of her cheeks. She could play it off, take it as a simple gesture of thanks, and move on.
The rest of her knew if she did that she would regret it for the rest of her life. Cautiously, she stepped through the door in her mind.
Rainbow leaned forward, slowly closing the distance. She raised a hoof in front of her, reaching towards Twilight but not daring to touch. Twilight sat on her haunches, not able to move, watching Rainbow draw closer. Inch by inch Rainbow collapsed the space between them, her mouth slightly open, her eyes apprehensive and bloodshot. Twilight’s joints locked up and her mind clouded over.
Rainbow could still play it all off. She had an escape; she just had to take it. As the thought flitted through her head, she knew what it really meant: she wasn’t diving into action headstrong and thoughtlessly. This was a conscious, fully considered choice. One she would have to live with and have nopony to blame but herself. She swallowed dryly as the gap disappeared and her muzzle pressed to Twilight’s lips. Twilight didn’t move in the bare moments their mouths touched, her eyes held fast by Rainbow’s unwavering gaze. As the pegasus pulled back to study Twilight’s reaction, their lips broke contact with a tiny peck, the noise underlining the finality of the act. There was no going back.
Twilight watched Rainbow search her face. The shock had fled Rainbow’s features, leaving only exhaustion and hope. Twilight raised her hoof to her muzzle, the ghostly tingle of memory dancing on her mouth. Twilight’s eyes traced the contours of Rainbow’s jaw, lingering over her gentle face and windswept mane still dotted with sand. A tiny smile floated onto Rainbow’s lips, asking clearly but silently, ‘Is that what you meant?’
Lowering her raised hoof, Twilight leaned forward, not as slowly as Rainbow had but with just as much hesitation, and kissed her back, wordlessly answering, ‘Yes.’
In the lingering and gentle contact, a mountain of tension shattered from Rainbow’s shoulders, crashing down in a landslide around her. For the first time since Spitfire removed her badge, Rainbow’s mind was blessedly silent. She was only aware of Twilight’s lips against her own, the fleeting caress and minute warmth stretched to an eternity in her mind, and she held the feeling tightly captive. When she opened her eyes as Twilight pulled back, she discovered she was stroking the mare’s cheek with a hoof. A wobbly grin spread across Rainbow’s muzzle and she laughed breathlessly.
She lunged at Twilight and ran her hooves through the alicorn’s mane, pulling her close and kissing her again. Twilight spread her wings and hugged Rainbow to her chest, their hearts pounding wildly mere inches from each other. They traded smoldering pecks, murmuring shapelessly into each other, grasping and stroking each other’s manes.
Rainbow at last pulled away, gasping for breath. She nuzzled forcefully into Twilight’s cheek, burying her face in the hollow of the mare’s shoulder and panting. “I’ve wanted…” she breathed out, “for so long, I’ve wanted that…this…” She squeezed her eyes tight and kissed Twilight’s neck. Tears fell down her already matted cheeks.
Twilight petted Rainbow’s mane gently, leaning into her and closing her eyes. “How long?”
“Years,” she whispered. “That moment you were talking about, when we came up the stairs? When you saw us all? That’s when I knew. I saw a flash in your eyes and it connected us together, Twilight. All of us.” She leaned back up, tracks of fresh wetness on her awestruck and breathless face. “That’s when I knew I wanted this. And every day since, getting to know you, being around you, learning things from and about you, seeing you smile…I’ve just wanted it more.” She kissed Twilight again, resting their foreheads together. “I just never knew how to say it.”
Twilight closed her eyes, pressed up against Rainbow. She swallowed thickly, her hoof stroking Rainbow’s cheek. “I didn’t either,” she murmured, “After the wedding, you were there, always there for me. Whenever you were around, I never wanted you to leave. It’s older than that; I don’t know when it started, but after the wedding I knew for sure. I thought it was just a silly crush before. I didn’t think we had anything in common and we’d just drift apart, two too-different ponies. But every day I learned more about you and the more I wanted this.”
A sob broke its way out of Rainbow’s throat. “I waited too long,” she squeaked. “I could’ve…and maybe it would’ve been different. But it’s too late now. I ruined everything again.”
Bewilderment edged out Twilight’s giddiness. “Too late? What are you talking about?”
“S’why I missed that whole week,” Rainbow moaned in misery, scrunching her eyes tightly shut. “That spell hit you and…you were gone for hours, Twi. I thought we killed you.” Twilight’s breath caught in her throat. Rainbow sniffled loudly to clear her snout, her voice cracking every other syllable. “Everypony else said we needed to wait and that it would be okay, but I knew you were gone forever…I’ve never been so happy to be wrong.” She sniffled again and chuckled weakly.
“Rainbow, I—” Rainbow hugged Twilight fiercely, cutting her off and dragging a surprised meep from her throat.
“And then you were back!” She kissed Twilight again, almost as an affirmation that the mare was still in front of her. “You were back, and you had wings, and you weren’t gone forever, and I was so happy.” She pulled out of the embrace and rubbed at her snout with a hoof, looking back over the water. “It wasn’t until I went home and started packing to go to the academy that I realized…And when it hit me, I went to bed and couldn’t move for a week. The only thing that got me outta bed was your coronation.”
Twilight’s throat bobbed uselessly and she shook her head. “What, Rainbow? What’s all this about?”
“It’s not fair to you; it’s still not fair, when you’re…gonna live forever.” She wiped at her face, feeling wretched. “How could—can I ask you to be with me? To go through…to watch me die when my time comes? It’s too selfish, Twilight.” She stooped her head, tears dropping to the sand with a soft patter.
Twilight’s low and quiet voice stilled her quaking body. “I’m not immortal.” Rainbow whipped back around, her eyes wide and disbelieving. Twilight looked at her with compassion, her mouth a small frown. “Celestia and Luna are immortal, but I’m not.”
“But…you’re…”
“Becoming an alicorn connected me to all three pony races.” She took Rainbow back into her wings and pulled the mare’s head to her chest. “Friendship is about understanding others, and now I have a little bit of pegasus and earth pony in me, too. I can still feel the tingle of magic in the air on the ends of my coat, but I can also hear the sounds of plants growing under my hooves and taste the sky on the back of my throat. Celestia and Luna are bonded to the sun and moon and will live as long as they’re in the sky. I’m just a pony, Rainbow.”
Rainbow took controlled breaths, snuggled into Twilight’s coat. Her heart beat painfully with hope. The door in her mind tore off its own hinges, hanging open and unobstructed.
“And even if I was immortal,” Twilight whispered, “it wouldn’t matter to me if it meant I could have you in my life, even if it was for only a little while.”
Rainbow’s breathing came in hitches and she wrapped her forelegs around Twilight’s middle, clinging desperately, blanketed in the comfort of Twilight’s wings. She sobbed. She sobbed out the pain, hot and thick from her core. “I’m so stupid,” she choked out.
“Shh…” Twilight stroked her back slowly as she bled out her ache through her cries. Gradually she stilled, the ragged wound in her heart clean and dressed, ready to begin the long process of healing.
“All this time…” Rainbow shook her head, drying her eyes on Twilight’s chest. She sat back slowly, smiling despite herself at the alicorn. “I’ve made so many mistakes…I’m not gonna let myself make this one.” She leaned forward and connected with Twilight again, the kiss both deep and soft. She poured her heart into the contact, excising years of want and yearning from her being. Her fear and pain fled to the back of her mind and for the first time in weeks she felt like she could go on; that there was something more out there for her to do. That she could find what else her cutie mark was telling her and tackle it with gusto.
Rainbow pulled back from the kiss, beaming brightly in the dark night. Twilight smiled through her blush and tightened the grip of her large wings across Rainbow’s back. Rainbow murmured, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do with my life yet. But I know I wanna figure it out with you. However long it takes.”
Twilight’s smile widened. “And if you’re there, no matter how anypony else looks at me…I think I’ll be okay.”
Rainbow gently kissed Twilight again and turned in the embrace, gazing back over the water and leaning into her. Twilight turned to look and they watched the waves dance across the inky surface. Cloaked in the feeble morning hours, they sat together and basked in each other’s company, letting the future fade for a time and just existing in the present. They didn’t know what tomorrow would bring or where their lives would go, and they both burned with sorrows and regrets that neither a single night, nor a corrected mistake could repair immediately. But they knew one thing for certain.
They could face the world together. And that would be enough.
Author's Note
In case you missed it in the description, this story is inspired by the song Little Wonders by Rob Thomas.
As fimfiction's rules do not allow song lyrics within the story, it is presented without them. However, the story was originally written with song lyrics as a framing device for individual scenes. If you wish to read it as it was originally written, here is a link to the lyrics, and this is a guide for reading the story with the lyrics:
Opening of Scene 1: First four lines of the first verse
Opening of Scene 2: Second four lines of the first verse
Opening of Scene 3: First four lines of the second verse
Mid point of Scene 3, when Twilight arrives: Second four lines of the second verse
Opening of Scene 4: Third verse
Mid point of Scene 4, after Twilight kisses Rainbow's cheek: First four lines of the chorus
Close: Last three lines of the chorus
The story works on its own without the lyrics, but it was originally written with them in mind, and I wanted to provide an option for reading it that way.
This story was written as part of a challenge issued to me by The Wizard of Words: a Twidash Showdown.
If you liked this story, I encourage you to read Wizard's story and then go to the Twidash forum and help decide a winner for our little head to head by ~~voting for your favorite~~. EDIT: I won the Twidash Showdown by a single vote.
Thanks for reading.
