I Want to Take the Wings off, but I Can't

by JawJoe

Rating: mature
Tags: Tragedy, Horror, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 22121

Celestia, why don't I feel like 'me' any more?

The pony in the mirror is not me. They insist it is, they tell me everything is fine. But they're wrong. I can feel it with every step, every spell, every flap of these wings. I live in a skin that isn't my own. I look in the mirror, and I see that I am not who I am. Celestia, why didn't you give me a choice?

I want to take the wings off, but I can't.

Special thanks: Octavia Harmony, Rozen Knight, Wise Cracker, PaulAsaran... and I'm not forgetting you either, Kleora.

Published 2014-12-13 07:50:10 UTC
Last updated 2014-12-13 07:50:10 UTC

I Want to Take the Wings off, but I Can't

What if things had gone differently?

If someone had tugged at a loose stitch in the fabric of history?

One tiny pull, a single detail, no more than a twitch—

And it all comes undone at the seams.

From the mirror, Princess Twilight stared at me, eyes sunken and expression hollow.

A loose lock of mane dangled before one of her eyes, hiding the black lines that circled it. A tired, bent neck could barely hold up her head. She breathed out; her sigh whistled quietly between dry, cracked lips that didn't connect. Her contracting chest brought the rest of her body down and forward and inch, placing greater weight on her jutting shoulders. The lock of mane swayed with the movement.

Slowly, my eyelids shut. My hind legs gave way, dropping me to the floor. The impact shook me awake, and the cold of the parquet ran up my spine. The princess, sitting with me, cocked her head and gave a patronising, even scolding look. I gulped to soothe my sore throat, remembering to close my mouth.

On the nightstand behind me, a desk lamp perched with its bulb angled my way. I stared into the light through the mirror, without blinking, unwavering, welcoming the blind spot burned into my vision. When I looked back at the princess, the white spot obscured her face.

I rubbed my eyes clear.

The ridges that spiralled my horn were perfectly symmetrical near the base, but grew uneven and worn as they reached its mangled tip. At a blink of my eyes and the touch of a thought, my horn lit up. The top drawer of the nightstand opened, making way for a large file to float out.

The tip of my horn was blunt – flat, even. A little sharpening should do. Moved by ethereal hooves, the file scraped away at my horn. The spiral ridges were difficult to keep in proper shape even at the bottom, and more so at the tip. I'd nearly gone cross-eyed, staring at the tiny point in the mirror. Dust and fine flakes, sparkling with dying flashes of magic, rained from my horn onto my muzzle, motes finding their way between the hairs.

No matter how much I filed my horn, it was always too long. It felt too long.

“Your eyes are going to pop if you keep going like that,” grumbled Spike, squinting at me from his bed.

His voice dragging me back to reality, I found myself less than an inch from the mirror's surface. My eyeballs near well touched the thing. A sharp pain jabbed into my lower lip; lost in thought, I'd sunk my teeth into it. I removed them with a wet pop.

I quickly dusted the sprinkles from my horn before turning to spike. To say I was embarrassed would be putting it lightly.

“Sorry,” I said on instinct. “I mean, thanks. I mean, oh...” I sighed, covering my face with my hooves. I didn't know where I was going with that.

Spike rolled out of his bed and toddled over, punctuating the last step with a yawn and a stretch. “It's the middle of the night. Don't you have flying practice tomorrow?”

My wings fluttered uncomfortably. They pulled closer to my body, as if in defence from the mention of flight. “I can't sleep,” I said, looking into the mirror.

“I noticed,” Spike grumbled, crossing his arms. “The Summer Sun Celebration isn't until next week. You have lots of time. Don't stress out over it.”

I turned a hoof up, eyeing its beaten, worn underside: its intricate cracks and bumps, and the motes of dirt and trampled grass fibre stuck between them. I should tend to that, I thought. Perhaps a trip to the spa, to leave my responsibilities behind for a day. Maybe that would help.

Maybe I just needed an excuse to avoid looking at Spike.

“I'm not really nervous,” I mumbled. “Not about that.”

I felt a tug under my other hoof. Spike poked his head out under my chest. He placed one hand on my chest, and wrapped the other around my back.

He buried his tiny claws in my coat, pulling, tugging gently. “You could take tomorrow off.”

I rested my chin on his forehead. “I was just thinking about that. I've really been working myself up lately.”

He stood on his toes, coming closer to me. “I mean, it's only the Summer Sun Celebration. Sure, it's a historic event celebrated every year for over a thousand years, and yeah, this is your first time partaking in it as a princess. Not to mention that Princess Luna will be there too. And it's true Celestia personally asked you to be there for the occasion, but still...” I felt Spike's hug loosen a little. “I'm not really helping, am I?”

With a smile, I shook my head.

Spike extended an arm, pointing a clawed finger towards the beds. “Will you, please, at least try to get some sleep?”

I lifted my leg off his back. “I'm sorry for waking you up. Go on, I'll be right behind you.”

Spike took a step for his bed, but turned right back. “Are you sure you won't spend the rest of the night preening your wings again?”

I looked into the mirror. I pulled at the darkened skin under one of my eyes, exposing bright red tissue. After I let go, the skin stayed loose and wrinkly, unable to return to its original shape – it had lost its spring days ago.

“Yes,” I said, standing up. “I do need to lie down.”

Spike hurried ahead of me, climbing into his tiny bed beside my own. He didn't put his head onto the pillow yet, waiting vigilantly until I collapsed into mine. “Good night,” he said, and with that, he threw his head down.

I didn't bother to so much as pull the covers up. “Nighty night,” I mumbled through the pillow. Closing my eyes, I realised the nightlight still shone through my shut eyelids. A flash of my horn put it out.

I enjoyed the peace of darkness, for as long as it lasted. Right on schedule, after about half a minute, Spike's first snore tore through the silence. At least one of us was going to sleep that night.

At night, even the most familiar of places becomes haunting. The stairs creak. The door's hinge squeaks. The room heaves, the ceiling breathes, the windows rattle with the wind. The ticking of the clock grates away at your thoughts. The bed creaks infernally with every frustrated toss and turn. And that shameless little mosquito buzzing incessantly in your ear...

My own breathing grew too loud to sleep through. The minute pops and cracks of my bones resonated through my body. Feeling cold, I curled up and wrapped the covers around my body, pulling them over my ears. My skin itched with sweat and heat. I turned to my back, dangling a leg off the bed. My wings jabbed at my back.

I pulled them as close as I could. In turn they propped my spine to an uncomfortable degree. I'd learned not to extend them, though. Too many times have I woken up to a sudden pain racing through an extended wing; one wrong turn could easily break the fragile, hollow bones inside. Oh, all the feathers I'd torn on sleepless nights.

I tried to silence my thoughts – to empty my head and finally sleep. The more I focused on nothing, the louder my thoughts returned. I wondered how the pegasi coped. Maybe this was why Rainbow liked to nap on the clouds so much.

I hadn't slept more than an hour or two a night throughout the past week. During the days, I felt I could doze off while standing. Yet when the day was over and sleep could come, dreams refused to take me.

My eyes burned with dryness. I couldn't rub them hard enough. I turned on my stomach, burying my face in the pillow. A flick on my wings threw the covers off, and then I was cold again. Lifting my head, my overlong horn scraped a scratch into the ornate headboard. I should've filed it further down. It kept growing back – thicker, even – and uglier each day.

Sometimes, your bed and you don't get along. Maybe you need to flip the mattress. Maybe you need to sleep on the other side of the bed. Perhaps you need to get a new bed altogether. I know I've had my fair share of disputes with the old bed in the Golden Oaks Library – all those long nights spent buried in books have put a strain on me. So far, we've resolved each one in a timely and mutually agreeable manner. I could tell that this time, my acute insomnia wasn't the poor thing's fault.

Sometimes, your body just isn't comfortable.

I turned on my back and stared at the ceiling. The base of my wings ground against my shoulder blades.

The gates of the Canterlot Palace opened, and sunlight flooded in from the wide courtyard. I lifted a hoof to shield my eyes.

Bad idea. The pair of guards charged into the open, yanking my carriage to a sudden start. I slammed my hoof onto the red silk seat and caught myself, avoiding by a hair a most embarrassing end to my coronation ceremony.

The guards picked up speed before settling in a theatrical gait, pulling my carriage through the open courtyard at a steady pace. To the left and right, I saw more ponies than I could count. Ponies I knew, ponies I recognised, and ponies I'd never seen in my life. I knew the princesses – the other princesses – were behind me, high up on a palace balcony, although I wasn't allowed to look. I had to keep looking forward. The crowd cheered. They smiled, they waved, they whistled, they stomped, they clapped – all to share my joy.

A smile sneaked onto my lips. “Life in Equestria shimmers!” A mother lifted her toddler above her head, and I heard the child's giggling as the carriage passed by. I waved to the child, and the child waved back. Life in Equestria shines!

A pegasus passed by overhead and dropped a bouquet of fragrant flowers in my lap. I had but a moment to look up and send her an appreciative nod before the carriage moved on.

And there they were: near the end of the path, my friends stood before the line of ponies. When the carriage came close, Rainbow stomped once. That was my cue to leap from the carriage. From the moment that my hooves lifted from the seat, all I could think was what would happen if I didn't stick the landing. Jumping from a moving carriage, who came up with that? I'd never have lived it down if I failed.

My hooves touched ground – safely and elegantly, at which I couldn't express my relief – and momentum carried me into a pleasant trot. My friends converged from either side to walk with me.

And I know for absolute certain...

That was, perhaps, the last time I'd worn a genuine smile.

That everything is certainly—

“Twilight!”

I sprung up with a jerk, eyelids bursting open. I blinked rapidly, cranking my head every which way. A hoof prodded my shoulder. I looked up to see Rainbow floating over the bed, hooves crossed and a brow raised.

My brain wasn't up to capacity yet; I resorted to blinking at my guest in surprise to convey my meaning.

“You slept,” Rainbow said.

“Did I?” I straightened my back, letting a round of cracks run from top to bottom. “Great.” I winced. “I mean, no, sorry.” I swallowed a mouthful of night-old drool, and wiped what was left from my lips. “I'm so sorry. What time is it?”

Rainbow took her hooves off the headboard. “You're an hour late for practice.”

“Oh.” I rubbed my temple. Gradually, the haze of dreams faded. “Okay, let me just...” I spent a moment stretching before sliding from the bed. With my hooves on the floor, I unfurled my wings and made a few wake-up flaps.

Putting a hoof behind my neck, I cracked it to the left, then to the right. “Okay. Ready.”

Rainbow cocked her head. “You sure? Just wanted to see if you were okay, since you didn't show and all.”

“I'm okay,” I replied, maybe a little quicker than I should have. “Why wouldn't I be? I overslept, I'm sorry. Happens to the best of us, right?”

“You don't have to tell me about sleeping way too much,” Rainbow said, suppressing a giggle. “Seriously though. Don't take it too bad, but you don't look too good.”

From the stairwell came a distinct sound – that of tiny feet rushing up steps far too tall for them. The door swung open and Spike stomped inside, nearly falling over after his last step. He hung from the door handle by a hand, panting heavily, yet with fire in his eyes.

“Rainbow Dash...” He pointed, barely able to keep his arm up. “I told you... don't wake... don't wake up Twilight.” He breathed in deeply. His eyes turned to me, and he exhaled with a lengthy sigh.

Rainbow dropped to the floor, putting a hoof over my shoulder and turning to spike with a cheeky grin. “Too late. The princess is up and ready to go.”

I raised a brow at Spike. “Have you been taking care of the library all by yourself?”

Spike's cheeks flushed red, and he tucked his hands behind his back. “Well, yeah.” Then he put his palms up in protest. “I didn't reorganise anything, I swear! Just taking care of business. Ponies coming and going.” He turned to Dash again. “How did you get in here?”

Dash flicked her tail towards the balcony door. “You left that open.”

Spike slapped a hand on his face, letting loose a short grumble. He looked to me. “Well, since you're already up, you'd better go with Rainbow.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “I can't have you working here all day alone. And I promised I'd stay home.”

Spike waved dismissively. “Nothing I can't handle. I know how important the Summer Sun Celebration is. And you need to practise, don't want to disappoint Celestia.”

I looked at Rainbow for a second, then back at Spike, and then at Rainbow again.

Rainbow walked to the balcony. “Spike's right, you know. We're way behind schedule as it is, and you'll really want to wow everypony. Come on.” She beckoned with a hoof, then trotted out onto the balcony and leapt into the air.

“Seems like I have no choice,” I said before adding a sigh. Spike shrugged in response. “Thanks, Spike. I'll make it up to you. Cross my heart, and all that.”

Spike scratched the back of his head. “Better get going, then. You're a princess now, of course you're going to be busy. I'll probably have to do this a lot soon, anyway.”

That thought had never occurred to me. Whatever duties Celestia might end up bestowing on me, there was little chance I could keep working as a librarian in the meantime. Whoever heard of a princess librarian?

Either Spike would have to do the work alone, or – more likely – the princess would appoint a brand new librarian. We'd have to move out. Dear, would we have to move to Canterlot? What would happen to my friends? Would they stay, or would they come with us? We couldn't ask them to abandon everything they've built for themselves here in Ponyville, and—

Spike clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Um, Twilight?” He waved his hand in front of my eyes. “Are you in there?”

I shook my head. “Sorry. Yes. I'm going. Thank you again. See you later.”

I felt too embarrassed to look back at him before leaping from the balcony.

And I had to stop saying sorry all the time.

Although we started flying practice late, we still finished early. No matter what I did, I could not get my wings to obey me. I wanted to keep on going, despite all the times I'd crashed into the ground – and once nearly collided head-on with Rainbow Dash – but she called it off.

Rainbow said that there might be some stronger winds putting my trajectory off, even though I didn't feel anything different. I trusted her experience.

Once practice was done, the next stop for the day was the Carousel Boutique.

Rarity wrapped the measuring tape around my chest. She held one end down with a hoof and took the other into her mouth, pulling tight.

“So tell me,” she mumbled, “how was flying practice?”

I glanced down at the patches of bald, bruised skin on my front legs – the results of a particularly inelegant landing. I shuffled a little, trying to turn my hooves inwards. It probably wasn't as subtle as I'd have liked.

“It was okay.”

Rarity's horn sparked alive, and the measuring tape uncoiled itself from me. “Making good progress, I take it.” At her desk, a quill danced in blue light, writing down the latest measurement. Rarity adjusted her glasses.

A princess had to present herself somehow, after all, and who better to ask about making me a dress than Rarity? She only needed to painstakingly re-measure every inch of my body, what with it having grown in just about every area, and then she could begin work in earnest.

“I've been thinking,” I said. “Could you make it so the dress hides my front legs, too? Just have something hanging there.”

Rarity wrapped an end of the tape around her left hoof, and the other around the right, then stretched the tape from my front hoof to my shoulder. “I certainly could, but why would I? Pardon me, but it sounds like it would be unreasonably difficult to walk in such a gown.” She repeated her actions with my other leg. The quill dipped itself in ink and jotted down the sizes. “Not to mention that it would hide your slender figure. Trust me, it would be most unbecoming.”

“But if the dress doesn't hide my legs, it'll just frame them,” I said. “It'll draw even more attention, you know?”

I knew all about the general standards of beauty. Tall, slender mares – with legs to match – were always the most coveted. Being a Canterlot filly, I was used to seeing such mares walk around, and the stallions ogling their every step. In my adolescence, I may have been a little jealous.

I never thought I'd become the standard every mare subjected themselves to. It didn't feel as good as one might think.

Rarity cocked her head aside and raised a curious brow. “And attention's a problem, how?”

“I wouldn't feel comfortable showing off like that,” I added. I felt my cheeks grow red with warmth. “I don't want to be some sort of super model.”

“Now don't take this the wrong way,” Rarity said, moving to measure my hind legs, “but I've been working with models longer than you'd think. I don't claim to see into ponies' heads, but it's a fact of the business that tall, slim models make the most money. Long legs, long necks, spotless coats, and rich, flowing manes.”

I saw where that was going. “Basically whoever looks the most like the princesses.”

Rarity stretched the tape from the base of my neck to that of my tail, sticking her head up with a grin. “I'm glad I wasn't the one to say it. Consider, Twilight dear, you're a princess. You'd better look like one.”

I lowered my head. “Yeah, I—”

“Hold still now.”

I pulled my chin back up, and Rarity continued measuring. Occasionally, she brought in a piece of cloth to hang on me and mark.

I bit my lip, trying to stay quiet. I hated to disturb Rarity in her work, but thoughts raced inside my head, begging to be spoken. “Do you ever have this... this thing, where you wake up, and you don't feel like yourself?”

Rarity put a sizeable, colourful cloth on my back. I imagined it was a piece of a dress she never finished. “How about every morning?” She chortled. A black marker drew a dotted line on the cloth along my spine.

“I'm sorry?”

“I'm not myself until I do my mane.” She made a practised flick on her luscious, curled mane.

“So you do your mane, and then you feel alright?”

Rarity nodded with a smile, pulling the cloth off my back. “It's the little things.”

It must have been nice, to fix it so easily. I turned my eyes up, trying to look at my horn. The tip taunted me. I could've sworn that whatever I'd scraped off last night had already grown back.

“Rarity?”

“Yes, darling?”

“I'd still prefer to have long sleeves.”

She rubbed her chin. “If you insist. I'll see what I can do.”

Behind me, Spike snored. From the mirror, Princess Twilight stared into me, disappointment in her tired eyes. She had one of her legs in her mouth, teeth grinding at her irritated skin, gnawing away at a loose tuft of hair in a patch that would otherwise be bare.

I felt a tear and spat purple hairs. Where there had been purple coat, now a little red spurt collected. I licked off the blood.

I couldn't stop myself. I didn't like them, my legs. They changed my entire stature. For the first few days following my transformation, so much as walking was a challenge. Balance was off – my whole body was off.

My legs were too long. And now, patchy, bruised, and stained with dried blood. They were supposed to be beautiful. I was supposed to be beautiful. Was I the only one not seeing it?

Why was it that everypony loved Princess Twilight save for me? What was wrong with me? I gnawed away at my leg, and doubt gnawed at me, marring me from the inside. I stared into Princess Twilight's eyes; she had no answers. Something tore again. I spat another mouthful of hair and licked some more blood.

My wings hurt. They'd been aching since flight practice. I put my bite-marked hoof down, unfolding my wings. I spread them wide, blocking out the light of the little lamp on the nightstand. In the mirror, Princess Twilight was lost in her own shadow.

Strange, how full my wings were. I distinctly recalled losing many a feather over the course of the afternoon – either from crash landings or by tearing them out myself. And yet, nothing seemed missing now. I withdrew my wings, and Princess Twilight basked in the grandiose halo of the nightlight again.

My horn was suspect, too. Last night, I'd filed it to a properly hideous shape. In the morning, it was still none too pleasant to look at. Now, with but a few minutes 'till midnight, my horn was pristine. The colour was a healthy deep purple that blended perfectly with my coat, the shape was a textbook example of a well-kept horn, and through it I sensed the slightest fluctuations of the magical winds that shifted invisibly throughout Equestria.

But it was too long. No matter how hard I tried, however long I spent filing it each and every night, my horn would always grow back. The symbols of my ascension, my horn and the wings, were untouchable, indesecratable, destined to remain pure and whole for the rest of my life.

I wished they would go away.

Flying was one thing. A leisurely flight above the Ponyville park, I'd take any day. Flying quickly was a different matter altogether.

Wind rushed by, whistling in my ears. I couldn't breathe fast enough. The cold sky air stung the back of my throat. My heart raced faster than it ever had. My wings pulled and rowed the air, rocketing me forward.

Rainbow's voice resounded behind me. “Flap it, flap it, flap it!” I looked back at her, for just a moment. She put a hoof forward. “Watch out!”

In the blink of an eye, a cloud I hadn't seen appeared before me. I swerved to the right, but not in time. The tip of my hind hoof whipped into the cloud.

Rather than shoot straight upwards, I ascended at an angle. Air rushed differently, and it pinned my front legs to my chest. Before I knew it, my head tipped forward, and I was tumbling through the air.

“Rainbow!” I yelled, swinging my legs and flapping my wings madly, trying to gain a hold on the air.

I flew with all the grace of a thrown rock, too disoriented to tell up from down. Curling up, I pulled my wings in and put up my hooves to shield my head.

I felt Rainbow's hooves latch around me, and heard the hard beating of her wings. She quickly lost her balance and came tumbling with me.

I crashed – not into the ground, but at something from the side. I heard the sound of wood breaking, and felt a sharp pain jab into my left wing. Then came another collision, this time with a solid wall. Dash followed within a second.

Finally, we fell out of the sky for good, rolling down the wall and landing with a pair of resounding smacks.

I wasn't moving, yet the world was spinning. Rainbow lay sprawled on top of me. The town hall towered above us, the place of our impact marked by a sizeable crack. Torn feathers both purple and blue stuck to red spurts that dotted the wall all the way down. A wooden beam that had once supported the upper balcony lay on the grass.

Rainbow clambered to her hooves with a groan. One of her wings hung limp. She looked at the town hall, then down at me. Not caring about her injuries, or oblivious to them, she extended a hoof for me. “You alright?”

I tried to grab her hoof, but missed. I tried to speak, but all I managed was to bite my tongue.

“Okay, I don't wanna alarm you, but, ach—” Her limp wing twitched. “Ouch, yeah, I think I sprained a wing. But you, well you...”

With painstaking effort, I lifted my head to take a good look at myself. My left wing had a metre-long splinter running through it – from the beam I broke through, most likely. It took a second for the pain to set it. Shock prevented me from screaming or crying out. My neck went limp, dropping my head back down.

Exactly what I needed, less than a week before the Summer Sun Celebration.

It had been quite a spectacle, that crash. On the upside, help was quick to arrive. We were in the hospital before the shock even faded. Memories are, as such, a bit hazy.

The piece of wood did quite a number on my wing, shredding skin, piercing flesh, and fracturing minute bones and cartilages by the dozen. They plucked my wing clean before removing the splinter. From what I've been told, the procedure took hours.

No doctor wanted to go down in history as the one who killed Equestria's youngest princess. So they had to account for infections and every possible way in which the splinter might shatter and wedge even more pieces into my wing on its way out. Then there was the blood – with the splinter out, my wing started bleeding something fierce. I went light-headed around that time.

The good thing was getting to stay overnight. They tucked me into a bed – making sure to give their esteemed guest the most comfortable private room they could scour – with my left wing propped up to the side. I was told not to fidget too much, lest I hurt the wing.

I don't know whether it was the tranquillisers and morphines they'd injected, or that homely hospital atmosphere, but I managed to sleep through the night. That's a victory, in my book.

The first rays of sunrise woke me. The orange light bounced between the white walls, casting long, dark shadows on the far end. A prickly, jabbing feeling coiled in my left wing, making me wince.

My wing hung from a mount beside the bed, stretched by an elaborate system of clasps and supports. It ached, like a leg you'd fallen asleep on. Tiny, bushy feathers had already sprouted were the doctors had stripped my wing. The only telltale sign of the wound was a thin line of rough, darkened tissue, barely visible under regrowing plumage.

When your leg falls asleep, you have to let it hang free, and perhaps shake it a little to help circulation. Wings couldn't have been different. I was reluctant at first to move the wing; I feared I might not be able to. Gathering my courage, I willed the tip of my wing to flinch.

Stabbing pain shot through the length of the wing, making me jerk and hiss in pain. It started from the tip and coursed through every bone, like a bolt of lightning, until it reached the base, where it dissipated into my spine. Dull pains echoed in its wake.

My horn lit up, enveloping my wing in a soothing aura. The latches and clasps that bound it undid themselves one by one; I used my magic to stop it from falling. Gradually, I lowered the intensity of the floating spell, letting the muscles of my wing take over. The pain rose with the weight. I couldn't go all the way.

My magic and bones worked together in folding my wing into my lap. I gently rubbed and massaged it to help with the pain. Eventually, the numb aching faded. So my wing was alright – I considered how lucky that was. Or unlucky, as it were. For a moment, I imagined if the fall would have been worse, they might have been forced to amputate.

Perhaps I should get in another accident, I pondered. Just for the opportunity.

I scoffed, reminding myself to not joke about such things.

Putting my mind to it, I lifted my wing again, this time without magic.

The pain flared, as though my bones wanted to burn their way out of my skin. Breathing between clenched teeth, I powered through. Slowly, I spread the wing out. Then I folded it to my back, shaken by periodic contractions and jerks of pain.

I had to take a break to catch my breath. Alright – you can do this.

As I unfolded my wings again, I sensed surging magic – a calming warmth. The heat snaked down into my head and continued into my spine, then spread through the smallest capillaries of my wing.

The warmth drove out the pain, and then it too left. I flapped my wing, to no stabbing pain. And all it took was a little stretch. I wondered why'd they go to the trouble of hanging it up the way they did.

I let the injured wing hang beside the bed. I couldn't help a relieved sigh.

Hooves clopped in the hallway, and the door opened slightly. Nurse Redheart carefully poked her head in. When she saw me, her eyes went wide. She rushed inside, a clipboard in her hoof, gaze set on my hanging wing.

“No, no,” Redheart said, eyes switching back and forth between my wing and the undone clasps. She grabbed my wing and started to reattach the bindings. “Don't take your wing out, Princess Twilight.”

“Sorry,” I replied, letting her prop my wing up. “It just felt rather numb. I wanted to move it.”

The nurse looked at me, her expression that of somepony afraid to say something on her mind. She turned her attention back to my wings, licking her lips. “I understand it's uncomfortable, but it's for your own good. How much did you try to move it?”

“Well, I'm not feeling numb any more.”

Redheart didn't look me in the eye. “That's good.” She attached the final latch. “So,” she began, gulping between the words, “you undid the binds and your wing fell?”

The nurse was visibly uncomfortable asking that question. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something she wasn't telling me. “Not exactly,” I replied. “I folded it into my lap to get a closer look first, but then I let it hang. It was comfortable.”

Redheart gave a single, slow nod. “I see.” She looked down, shifting her weight around. “I'm sorry, Princess Twilight.”

I reached out, putting a hoof on her shoulder. That made her look at me. “What is it?” I asked. Thoughts raced in my head. Was there something wrong with me, something I wasn't aware of? Worse yet – did something happen to Rainbow?

“Do you remember that splinter?” Redheart asked. “It pierced your...” Her eyes danced, avoiding mine, as though expecting to find the right words somewhere on the walls. “It broke a very important nerve. An artery also snapped as we removed it, and flooded the wound.”

“Yes,” I said. “I think I remember that.”

Redheart looked into my eyes, no longer than a second. Her grasp tightened on the clipboard. She lowered her head, fidgeting again.

“The doctor and I,” she said, “we've seen this kind of injury before. We could not help you. Words cannot describe how much I regret this, Princess Twilight.”

When I furrowed my brows, the nurse took a step back. “Will you just tell me what happened already?”

The nurse buried her gaze in her clipboard, flicking through the pages. Eventually, she fished out a dark, semi-transparent sheet: an x-ray of my wing, with the splinter still inside. As she handed the sheet over, I noticed her hoof was shaking.

Her voice grew quiet and shaky. “You might never be able to move that wing again.” I raised a brow, putting the scan-sheet down. The nurse didn't notice – she wasn't looking. “We couldn't repair the damage. The doctor has only seen a few similar cases in his praxis. Improvement is virtually unheard of. Most patients end up with their wing paralysed for life. There was one case, where, w-with years of therapy, the patient—”

My horn sparked alive, making the nurse stop rambling. The latches that bound my injured wing once again undid themselves, and I held the wing upright for her. I pulled it in, then stretched it out, the resulting wind sending the x-ray sheet flying.

Redheart recoiled with a gasp. The clipboard slipped from her hoof and clattered at the floor.

“That's not possible,” she mumbled.

“I've done impossible things in my life, Redheart.”

Behind her eyes, I saw swirling emotions. First, the terror of facing something you cannot understand. Then came awe, and finally, the corners of her gaping mouth curled upwards. She squealed, jumping in place like an excited little filly on Hearth's Warming Eve.

She stretched out a hoof, poking the wing carefully. “Doesn't it hurt?”

“Not at all.”

“This is incredible!” she burst. “Unprecedented! The doctor must see this at once.”

I folded my wing behind my back. “Sounds like you'd better fetch him.”

“Yes,” Redheart said, walking backwards, unable to take her eyes off my wing. “Yes, I... I'll go get him right now.” She reached her hoof behind herself, fumbling for the door handle. When she missed it for the third time, she had to turn around to find it.

I saw her steal another peek before she closed the door.

There came a long round of tests, scans, and examinations. News of my miraculous recovery spread like wildfire among hospital staff. Several doctors took turns checking my wing; first to prove to the others that they'd missed something, and then just to see it with their own eyes. All the more to behold my wondrous, freak alicorn body. Nothing about it made sense – but who was I to complain?

The end result was unambiguous: my wing was, for all intents and purposes, good as new. The feathers grew fully back within hours, and the wound either disappeared entirely, or was impossible to find under my plumage. I could move, I could fly – albeit not too well, but I was at fault in that regard, not the wing.

By late afternoon, I'd finally had enough. They insisted I stay in for a little longer – always just another test, another night spent under surveillance – but I refused each of their requests. I was fine, better than ever, and all I could think about was getting out of the hospital. When Twilight Sparkle's polite request failed, they folded before Princess Twilight's command.

I had only one thing to take care of.

After a few turns in the cold, labyrinthian interior of the hospital, I found Rainbow Dash once again shoved into a shared room. So much for the friends of the Princess of Friendship.

It was a room for two. In one half, separated from Rainbow by but a semi-transparent curtain, an old stallion lay in bed. He did not notice me. On the other side of the dividing line, Rainbow's ears perked up. “Hey Twilight.”

I pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed, taking a look at my friend's bandaged wing. “So, how are you?”

“I'll be fine.” Rainbow craned her head, eyeing my left wing. “Frankly, I'm more worried about you. How'd they fix you? Your wing looked pretty banged up.”

“Well, they took that splinter out, and...” I looked away. “It really wasn't that serious. I'm free to go. What about you?”

“Glad you're okay.” Rainbow circled her head around, cracking her neck. “Me, I'll have to stay for a few days. It's more about making sure I get the rest I need than anything. I've had worse.”

I lifted a hoof to hide a smile. “Like that time with the books?”

Rainbow crossed her hooves before her chest and pursed her lips. “Yeah, like that time.” She glanced to her bedside table. Empty, save for a night light. “Say, do you have any Daring Do books I haven't read yet? Lying here is bo-ring.”

“You've been pretty thorough catching up on those. I'll have to check.” Something was missing, I knew it. Then I remembered. “Hey, where are the girls? I thought they'd visit.”

“They have,” said Rainbow. “Who do you think kept me entertained all day?”

“But...” I paused. Rainbow looked at me curiously. “They didn't come see me.”

She leaned forward, clapping a hoof on my shoulder. “Don't get worked up over that. They really wanted to drop by. Told me hospital guys had a whole wing separated just for you. They wouldn't let anypony anywhere near our precious princess.”

I wondered if I should feel honoured or frightened.

“Spike was with them too,” Rainbow added. “He was crawling up the walls, he was so worried. I don't think they told them anything about your condition. Sure didn't say anything to me. Spike, he was so out of it that when he tried to send Celestia a letter, he just coughed sparks. Got told off by the doc, too. 'No need to frighten the Princess until we know more,' you know, shut up and calm down.”

That hit me like a cold shower. “So they don't know what's up, at all?” If last they'd seen me was with a piece of wood jammed through my wing...

I hopped to my hooves. “Sorry. I need to go and tell them everything's fine.”

By the time Rainbow spoke, I was already at the door. “Hey, don't forget about me.”

I turned back, one hoof on the handle. “I'll be back before the end of the day with the best books you'll ever read.” I took the hoof off the handle and hastily moved it across my chest. “Cross my heart, stick a fly... ugh! You know. Promise. Gotta go.”

I rushed out the door without waiting for Rainbow's response.

Rarity pulled the strings, and the corset tightened around my waist. As air rushed from my lungs with a wheeze, my eyes bulged.

“Tight!” I protested. “Too tight, too tight.”

Rarity let the strings fall from her mouth. I breathed in, and the corset gave out.

“Excuse me—” Rarity reached out to adjust the corset. “—but your dress needs a proper fit. No Princess of Equestria is going to parade around in saggy-baggy rags on my account.”

“Are you sure this can't wait? I just got out of the hospital.”

Rarity pulled the corset up and smoothed away some folds. “It is absolutely necessary. Unless you want to be naked for the Summer Sun Celebration, that is. Don't get me started on that... unorthodox request for sleeves on your front legs. Those haven't been in fashion since the tail end of the post-classical era, and I need to make them aerodynamic too. I can make it work, but for that, I need to work. Which means you need to stand here – and not fidget like that!”

I snapped to attention. “Sorry.”

“Now then.” Rarity took the corset's strings into her mouth again and pulled. “You were telling me about what they said in the hospital. Tight enough?”

I could still feel my wings. “A little tighter. The nurse told me they'd seen ponies with this kind of injury before. She said they could never fly again.”

Rarity let go of the strings. Her horn sparked up, and a blue aura tied the ends them together behind my back. “But your wing is fine. Isn't it?”

“Yes.” I sighed – I couldn't decide if it was out of relief or exasperation. “It's a miracle.”

Rarity nodded. “Miracle is right. At the risk of sounding worse than I mean, it's quite lucky you took that fall.” A bustle pad floated closer and placed itself onto the corset by my waist.

“Lucky?” I asked, trying my best to stay still. “I could've died.”

A needle flew up, and Rarity began working on attaching the pad. “But you didn't. Consider if Rainbow had taken the brunt of that fall. What if she got her wing injured the same way? She might not have healed... as quickly.”

If Rainbow had this happen to her... I hadn't even thought about that.

For a moment, I imagined being the one to get out of that accident with just a sprain. As I blinked, an image of Rainbow's impaled wing flashed before my eyes.

“Those are some amazing wings you have.” Rarity wasn't looking at me; her attention was focused on the pad. As she worked her needle, her rump swayed side to side. “Don't know why you're so hard on them. I'd saw off a leg for a pair.”

I shot her a jerking glance. “I'm sorry, what was that?”

“I just said I'd sell off a leg for a set of royal wings like yours.” She looked up for and sent me a sly smile. “Oh, don't give me that look.” She winked. “I mean nothing by it.”

“I just thought you said... something else.”

Rarity didn't respond; her eyes were again firmly set on the needle. She leaned closer with every stitch, and under her breath, she hummed a catchy tune.

If it had been Rainbow...

Before my mind's eye, I saw Rainbow lie in the dirt, wing bloody and splintered. My legs grew shaky, and my heart pumped. I tried to shake the image away. As I breathed in, the corset's choking hold tightened around my chest.

It would've been on me. I wanted to impress Celestia for the Summer Sun Celebration. I insisted Rainbow teach me.

I swallowed a lump in my throat.

I could've died. She could've died.

“Twilight?”

I blinked myself back to my senses. Rarity stared at me wide-eyed.

She leaned closer, ears pinned back and giving a worried look. “Is everything okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.”

Her eyes met mine, looking for answers I was afraid to give. And then, in Rarity's gaze, I found a spark of revelation.

It never happened, see. Rainbow was never seriously injured, and I was already on my hooves, getting a dress made. Rarity asked me to come here so that she could continue working – as though nothing had happened at all.

Every time something horrible might have happened to me, fate intervened to make things all right again. Blind luck? All's well that ends well, they say – yet the realisation that everything had always ended well chilled me far more than anything in my life. Something, somewhere, was looking out for me.

It was a humbling feeling – a frightening one – to be so small yet so important at the same time.

“I'm sorry,” I said.

“About what?” Rarity tried to place a hoof on my shoulder, but I pulled away. “Twilight, dear, what's wrong?”

With a flash of my horn, I disappeared and materialised a step to the side, leaving the corset and its half-attached pad to fall where I had stood. “You'll have to use a mannequin to finish that. It's getting late, and I have to lie down.”

“But—”

“No,” I cut her off. “I can't stay. I'm sorry.”

Before Rarity could protest, I bolted outside, ramming the door of the Boutique open. The Sun was already setting – few ponies were out around this hour. Those who still remained on the streets certainly weren't concerned with the lone princess galloping by.

My skin crawled. My breath caught, but I pushed on. I heard their steps behind me. I felt their eyes on me. Untouchable, invisible, watching, waiting, knowing, planning.

Was I a puppet?

I had to get away. Spreading my wings, I pushed at the ground. With a few powerful flaps, I rocketed above the clouds, up into the cold, thin air. The wind swept my mane and pierced my lungs.

Then came a rapid descent, of my own account this time. I hit the earth right in front of the library, and tumbled through the door. I didn't stop to close the door. As I rushed up the stairs, I hit my fetlocks every other step. I still wasn't used to pulling my new, long legs up.

I had to hurry, lest my thoughts catch up to me.

Up in my room, I threw my front legs onto the bed, collapsing. With trembling hooves and jerky motions, I crumpled up my blanket and buried my face between the folds.

Gradually, my heart calmed. My breaths grew calm. I lifted my head, wiping a few tears along the way. Spike wasn't home. His bed lay empty. Looking around, I caught somepony spying on me.

Princess Twilight stared back from the mirror, fear mixed with confusion behind her eyes.

I straightened my back and raised my chin, looking back in defiance. “Why?”

Coming around the bed, I trod over to the princess, eyeing her up and down. Those wide alicorn wings, the enlarged horn, the overlong legs, and that puffy, broad chest – whoever the mare in the mirror was, it wasn't who I saw growing up.

I knew myself. I knew my body. Then I changed. On that fateful night, in the blink of an eye, everything I'd known about myself was shattered. My life – planned ahead. My name – replaced. My body – remade.

It puts a strain you, seeing somepony else in the mirror every day. In my fragile adolescent years, there had been times when I'd put on a little more weight than I felt comfortable with. I'd felt out of place in silly clothes, on occasion. I could've burned in shame when I wore mismatched horseshoes to a family dinner at a renowned restaurant.

This was incomparable. I wanted to tear my skin off.

Celestia never told me why I became a princess. It was my destiny, but for what? Why did she do this to me?

“Why?” I cried, ramming my horn at Princess Twilight's. “Why do I need you?”

A spider web of cracks spread across the glass, each minute fracture splintering into yet more. When I pulled my horn away, tiny shards fell with it.

From the broken mirror, a hundred little princesses stared back at me. Fate sure has a sense of humour.

My horn glowed. The drawer of my bedside table slid open, and out floated my horn file. Scrape by scrape, push by pull, I ground down my horn again. The mirror, broken as it was, had no use. That didn't stop me from staring.

I wasn't disgusted by the horn, not that night. I felt no frustration with the wings that clung to my body. Not even the mildest discomfort with my legs. The medley of emotions boiled inside me, and became something else. For the first time, I felt hate.

Complete, utter hate.

The file tore away at my horn. My teeth clenched into a snarl. I spread my left wing and twisted my neck back to bite the base. Through thin skin I ground my teeth against bone, pulling, gnawing, twitching. I wanted it gone.

I heard the front door close.

The light of my horn winked out, magic letting go of the file. My jaws went slack, and slowly, my wing pulled back. In a fragmented reflection, I saw purple feathers stuck in Princess Twilight's mouth. I spat them out.

“Keep it together,” I whispered. “You'll get through this.”

I turned my eyes up at my mangled horn. Surely it would heal soon.

On the stairs, the pattering of tiny feet was slower than usual. Every other step, a heavy slam echoed from the stairwell, accompanied by metallic clinging.

I walked to the top of the stairs and craned my head down. Spike was making progress, but a heavy-looking toolbox dragged him down. The thing was nearly as big as he, its lid even pushed up by the instruments inside. He had to bend and pull it up at each step.

“Spike,” I said, my horn lighting up, “let me get that.” The toolbox escaped his claws and quickly ascended the stairs before settling on the nightstand.

“Thanks, Twilight.” Spike dragged the back of a hand over his forehead. “Didn't know you'd be here. Weren't you at Rarity's?” Unburdened by the box, he climbed the rest of the stairs with ease.

“I left early.” I poked a hoof towards the toolbox. “What's that about?”

“It's nothing,” Spike replied. “I volunteered to help repair the damage to the town hall, after you...” He extended a claw and scratched the back of his neck. “You know.”

“Really? And you worked in the library all day?”

Spike shrugged.

I put my hooves on his shoulders. “You really don't have to overwork yourself. You could've told me, I'd have loved to help. I caused the accident, after all, it's only fair.”

“I signed up in the morning,” Spike replied. “Didn't think you'd be out of the hospital this soon. And I didn't want to drop it on you like that.”

“Spike, really—”

He pointed a claw at the broken mirror. “What's that about?”

I turned. Princess Twilight's face was broken by the crack; the left half didn't align with the right. “I tripped and kicked it,” I said. “Don't even think about going and getting a new one. I'll do it.”

Spike gave a tentative nod. “O-kay...” He went to his bed, stretching his arms in the air and letting loose a long – and rather foul-smelling – yawn. “Well, I'm beat.” He rolled over the side of his bed and plopped in. “You should probably go to bed too, you know. Sleep promotes healing, I think you read that in a book once.”

“I guess.” I glanced at the mirror out of habit. “Spike?”

He opened one of his eyes. “Huh?”

I rubbed one of my hooves against the base of the other. “How is my horn?”

“Your what?” He rubbed his other eye open, sitting up. “Your horn is fine. Stop filing it all the time.”

“It's too long.” The file floated up from the floor.

Spike jumped, snatching the file out of the air. “It's not. It looks great.” He put the file into the drawer, slammed it shut, then fell right back into bed. “Seriously. You worry too much.”

No matter which angle I looked from, my horn never felt right. That's not to say the rest of my new body didn't bother me. Perhaps I obsessed over my horn because it was the only part of me I felt I could fix. The wings were worse, in that aspect. They were huge, obtrusive, eye-catching, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about them.

I still couldn't take my eyes off the mirror. “What would you do if, one day, you woke up with an extra pair of arms?”

“Honestly? Sometimes, they'd come in handy.” Spike afforded a short chuckle.

I brought my left wing before my chest, running the tip of a hoof across the feathers. “It's not that simple when it actually happens, you know.”

I twisted my head back, looking for the bite mark I'd left on the base of my wing. When I found it, I soothed the skin with a gentle stroke and rub. “I want to like them, you know. By all accounts, I'm supposed to love them. They're not making it easy, though.”

He responded with a snore. I decided it was for the best not to rouse the dragon from his slumber. I climbed into bed as quietly as I could, turning onto my back, wings spread out each side.

Hello, ceiling, my old friend. Up for another staring contest?

I wondered if there was a way out.

The banging of my hooves echoed through the hospital walls. I galloped as fast as my legs could go, barely swerving around a nurse who stepped out in front of me. “Excuse me!” My saddlebag followed in purple glow, nearly hitting the startled mare. “Sorry!”

One last turn – I almost slid into the opposite wall – and I was at Rainbow Dash's room. I burst inside, giving a start to the elderly pony with whom she shared her room. “So sorry!”

I skidded to a final stop just before Rainbow's bed. My hind legs gave out, and after a deep breath, I dropped my chest onto the foot of the bed. Through my chest, my heart beat against the mattress. “I'm so...” I stopped to catch my breath. “So very sorry.”

My saddlebag floated inside, glow winking out a second too early. The bag bounced on Rainbow's bed, spilling its book-filled guts. As she sat up, I saw her cautiously pull in her hooves under the covers.

“Wow. Um, apology accepted.”

Giving a sigh of relief, I slid my hooves off the bed. At least I could sit without tipping over, now. “Thanks goodness. I was worried you'd be angry.”

“Yeah.” Rainbow crossed her hooves and pursed her lips. “Bit late. You told me you'd come back yesterday.”

“It's completely slipped me.” I knocked a hoof at the side of my head. “Spike spent an hour interrogating me. I had to run to Fluttershy's, then all the way to AJ's. And Pinkie insisted she bake me a 'So Glad Your Wings are Okay' cake, you know, the kind she's made for you. Rarity, she wanted to work on my dress, and I had so much on my mind, and I—”

Rainbow stuck a hoof in my mouth. “Like I said. Apology accepted. All I'm saying is that it was boring lying here all night.”

“Well, you won't have to be bored any longer.”

I picked up the spilled books from the bed and stacked them up neatly, holding up The Snake Queen's Treasure for her. She took it with a curiously raised brow, eyeing the cover attentively.

“See, you've read every Daring Do book that I have, so I didn't know what to give you. But then I remembered, of course! A.K. Yearling had earlier books that weren't published under the Daring Do brand, but—”

I grabbed the book out of Rainbow's hooves and flipped it over before stuffing it back, synopsis turned her way.

“They're basically the same thing, thrilling adventures around the world, except they're not called Daring Do, they're—”

“Don't forget to breathe, Twilight.”

I sucked in a deep breath, blushing. “So, as I was saying...”

Rainbow lowered the book into her lap, giving an apologetic look. “Hey, this is really nice of you and all, but I won't be reading this.”

“What—why not?” I glanced the cover – Did I bring the right book? Yes, yes I did. – then back at Rainbow. “I thought you'd love it.”

She smirked. “Won't be reading it today, that is. I'm free to go.”

“Really? What are you doing in here, then?” I pointed an upturned hoof at the exit. “Door's wide open.”

On Rainbow's bedside table lay a flat metal tray. She gave it a none too gentle flick, making a clattering noise and sending tiny crumbs flying. “'Cause that breakfast was pitiful. I'm waiting for lunch, 'cause there's no way I'm flying home on an empty stomach, cheap hospital meal or not.”

“Oh.” So much ado about nothing, then. And I was getting into it, too. I clapped my hooves together to ease through the awkward silence. “So, uh, what now?”

Rainbow grinned. “Just because I can't get into a book, doesn't mean you can't keep me company. If it's no trouble.”

“No, of course not,” I said. “Anything you'd like to talk about?”

Rainbow turned to her side, elbowing into her pillow to prop her head with a hoof. “Your wing, for instance. It was a total wreck, and you just shrugged it off while I'm still wasting time in here.”

I extended my left wing to take a look myself. I still had no idea how it had healed so quickly – and the thought of admitting that made my heart sink. I always thought everything had a reason. All my life, anything I couldn't explain annoyed me at best, and scared me at worst.

I folded my wing back. “I don't know, really. It probably wasn't as serious as it looked.”

“Not as serious?” She jumped up, coming to float above the bed. She turned her head aside a little, crossing her hooves and leaning at me with a probing stare. “I know what I saw, Twilight. Your wing had the consistency of wet paper. Don't try to play it off like that.”

“Please, Rainbow...” I waved dismissively. “I got hurt, yes. But I'm alright. When haven't I been alright?”

With an easy beat on her wings, Rainbow flipped over to my other side and wrapped a leg around my shoulder. “No need to get defensive, y'know. I'm just concerned for my friend.”

I couldn't believe my ears. “Defensive?” I backed up, pulling my head out from under her leg. “I'm not being defensive. It was nothing. If you're my friend, you'll believe me. You're blowing this out of proportion.”

Rainbow's brows shot up, mouth swaying open. The corners of her lips curled into a smile of ridicule. “I'm blowing things out of proportion?” She knocked on my forehead. “Hello, princess, meet Twilight Sparkle, have you ever met?”

I turned away, focusing my eyes on the floor and grinding my teeth. “Listen, I'm just glad everything's okay. I don't want to talk about it. Just drop it.”

She flew closer, pressing her muzzle right in mine, making me lean back. “Why? What's going on with you? There's been a lot of times when we weren't listening to you, and I think we've all learned our lesson. Remember that one missed friendship report? Your brother's wedding?”

I shrunk away, and Rainbow followed, wings flapping and eyes set squarely on me.

“I can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong, Twilight.”

“I hate my wings!”

Rainbow fell silent. She pulled her head back, saying nothing. She just stared. Her wings slowed down, dropping her to the floor. I stepped forward, and this time, it was me pressing my face into hers.

“You want to know what's wrong? Nothing is wrong. Just that I hate my wings. I hate my legs, I hate my horn, I hate my crown, I hate my destiny, and I hate that this ever happened to me. I wish the accident had been more serious. If I'd lost my wing, I'd have been happier.”

Rainbow backed up, bumping into her bed. I stamped forward, and she shrunk away, sitting down and pressing her back against the bed. “Look, Twilight, I'm sorry—”

I stomped. “Shut up!” My throat ran dry, and I could feel my voice grow shaky. “Nopony cares. I can't complain, you see?” I blinked a tear away. “Boo-hoo, look at me, I'm a princess, life's so unfair! I'm great. I'm better than ever.”

Rainbow's lips trembled, as though wanting to speak but afraid to open. I turned around with a badly suppressed groan. I stomped at the ground once, and twice, and three times before falling to my haunches. I couldn't contain my sobs any longer. I buried my face in my hooves, hoping to hide the tears from Rainbow.

I felt her leg wrap around me and pull me to her chest.

“Last night,” I panted, “last night...” I whispered. “Last night, I thought about hanging myself.”

My horn tingled. A strange, warm sensation. Rainbow took her hoof off me.

When I looked at her, she had a hoof covering her mouth. She gave a snort, the kind she does suppressing a fit of giggles. A toothy grin showed through.

I furrowed my brows, trying to read her. She burst out laughing. “Sorry, sorry,” she chortled. “Yeah, sure. I'd love to hang, myself, just let me have my lunch first. Is that what you were so upset about?” She giggled. “Talk about blowing things out of proportion. Hey, why are you looking at me like that?”

“Rainbow...” I gulped. “Did you hear a single word of what I just said?”

She hopped onto her bed, touching her hooves behind her head and sprawling out on her bed. “Of course. Just, you know, lunch.”

“No, no, hold on. Did I just—”

“Hey!” Rainbow sat up. “I just remembered, isn't the Summer Sun Celebration in two days? We're going to Canterlot this afternoon, isn't that right? We'll have plenty of time to hang with the girls.”

I looked down, placing a hoof on my forehead. My head throbbed.

“What's wrong, Twilight?”

I looked at her. She propped herself with a hoof, giving a toothy smile.

“You know you can talk to me.”

I got up, and took a slow, careful step back, ears pinning down. “Gosh, you are completely right. I've totally forgotten. In fact, I should go back home and pack.”

I glanced behind me, looking for the door, then looked right back at Rainbow. Slowly, I started walking backwards, afraid to take my eyes off her.

Rainbow wrapped the strap of my saddlebag around a hoof and lifted it. “You forgot something.”

I gave an uneasy chuckle. “Yes, I do that, don't I?” My horn came alive, yanking the bag from her hooves as I reached for the door handle.

Somewhere into the second half of that afternoon, the girls, Spike, and I arrived in Canterlot. Rainbow suggested we head to the park, away from all the spires and walls that formed the maze of the city. There we had ample space to practise for my part in the celebration to come.

I floated at a less-than-safe distance above ground, the borderline asynchronous flaps of my wings carrying me higher inch by slow inch. No matter how many times I reminded myself not to look down, I found myself staring at my steadily shrinking friends.

Rainbow came up before me with an effortless rise and sudden stop. “You gotta really flap 'em hard!”

With a deep breath, I looked into her eye and gave the most determined nod I could muster. Closing my eyes and clenching my teeth, I concentrated on the movement of my wings – beating them as fast and hard as I could.

I rose upwards, the wind brushing my coat and waving my mane. My wings caught a particularly strong gust and, one ill-timed flap later, sent me into a rapid spin. If there had been time for a coherent thought before the inevitable crash, it would probably have been “—and here we go again.”

A choked “Woah!” was all I could say before a collision with the sturdy branch of a tree knocked the air from me. As I hung there in defeat, a bird chirped madly in my ear. When my vision cleared, I saw a nest and broken eggs at the base of the trunk.

Rainbow floated closer, shooing the bird away with a hoof. “Maybe not quite that hard.”

I'd always found landing – intentional or otherwise – to be the hardest part of flight. Yet I braved the height of the tree, rolling off the branch so that my hooves could once again touch the ground. The descent was fine until about halfway, at which point – perhaps in awe of my own performance – one of my wings missed a beat.

The second half of the way down was, at the very least, much quicker than the first. That's freefall for you. I only got my chin bruised, slamming into the ground, and didn't even bite my tongue this time around – a fine landing, all things considered. I noted to myself, for the umpteenth time since my coronation, that unicorns weren't meant to fly.

Applejack was quick to trot over and lend me a hoof, which I gladly took. “Lookin' good up there, Princess Twilight.”

I winced, if only on the inside. “Applejack, I've said this before: you don't have to call me that.”

Rarity stepped closer, Fluttershy at her side, and asked, “Why do you protest so? “You've already given up wearing your crown all the time. The least you can do is embrace your new title.”

I took another deep breath and counted to three before responding. “I don't feel comfortable being called 'princess.' It just doesn't feel right. I realise it's what I am, but...” Another deep breath, to make sure I don't say too much. “None of you should be calling me that. Not my friends.”

With a sigh, I looked over my shoulder. First, at my wings – unfolding as I eyed them – and then back at the city behind us. Canterlot was alive with ponies of all kinds. Pegasi moved clouds and set the pattern of wind, unicorns in rich dresses and suits mounted crests and bells on the highest spires. Even the humblest earth pony took their part by placing balloons or ribbons above windows and doorways.

The anticipation in the air was near palpable. I had to wonder whether they were as excited to see me as they were for Celestia each year – and the implications if the answer was yes.

The park, of course, was reserved for the princess and her friends. Absolutely no distractions were allowed while Princess Twilight prepared for her part. I was at once grateful for that royal decree – and ashamed, in a way, for claiming the entire park for just the seven of us.

“This flying business just doesn't feel right,” I mumbled. “We only have two days. I'm never going to be ready in time.”

Rainbow clapped a hoof on my shoulder. “Not if you spend all your time down here, you won't.” She reared, pointing at the sky. “Now get up there and show everypony the big finish!”

I nodded, showing as much determination as possible in spite of my turning stomach. Perhaps the reason I failed, time and time again, was that I never really wanted to do this in the first place.

I shooed that thought away as fast as it came. I had to concentrate. Setting my hooves, I spread my wings wide, and prepared to blast off.

One hard flap and the ground jumped away. Air whistled past my ears as I soared ever higher, moving faster by the second. A twirl here, a swift turn there – Celestia had told me that first impressions are important, and as my first royal duty, I had to make this Summer Sun Celebration a special one.

In less time than it took me to breathe twice, I'd reached the height of Canterlot's tallest spire. My wings weren't even tired. I spread them for an effortless glide. I had a second to catch my breath before I had to change direction for the grand finale.

I waited a second too long. One wing flapped before the other, completely derailing my course. My efforts to correct it, as I'd come to expect, only made it worse. Another second, and I tumbled into an uncontrollable spiral.

In one last desperate bid to save myself a few broken bones, I beat my wings with all their might. I managed, briefly, to pull upwards – passing inches above the heads of my friends, hearing their gasps as I did.

My course angled upwards, but I couldn't slow down, quickly coming to a vertical ascension. I flipped over and saw the earth replace the sky above me. Another roll later, I slammed into the ground, ploughing a path of dirt and torn grass as I slowed to a stop.

So it was that the Princess of Friendship, Magic, Books, or what have you, lay motionless in a ditch, paralysed not as much by pain as by embarrassment. Aside from a mouthful of dirt, at least, I didn't sense any physical harm.

I got lucky again.

“Wow!” yelped Pinkie. “That was a big finish.”

I couldn't help but groan.

My royal duties must come first.

Clip-clop, clip-clop – my hooves clopped on the cold tiles of my Canterlot Suite residence.

My royal duties...

“Check,” Spike said, ticking off an item on the list in his hands. I turned around to walk the other way, stepping over the long, draping scroll that hung from Spike's hands. “Check,” he said again, marked by the sound of a pencil scraping against parchment. “Check, check, and check. Phew! What do you know? We're way ahead of schedule.”

I reached the opposite wall, and turned around again.

“I credit your extremely competent assistant,” Spike said with a smirk.

I stopped when I reached him. “As do I.”

“The celebration isn't until the day after tomorrow.” He twirled the pencil between his fingers. “We could still fit in a quick trip to Ponyville and be back in plenty of time to finish off these last few things before the main event.”

I sighed. “That would be nice, Spike, but I don't want to go back to Ponyville.” I walked to the window overlooking Canterlot. The city didn't interest me. My eyes were set on a tiny dot of light, in the distance below the mountain: Ponyville.

I put a hoof on the sill. “It's not that I don't miss my friends. I'm afraid that if I went back...” My eyes turned up, slowly, shifting focus from the vast fields of Equestria to the glass inches from my nose. A faint image of Princess Twilight looked back. “If I went back, I might not want to come back at all.”

Spike rolled his eyes, accompanied by an exasperated “Uh-huh. So that's a no, then?”

I stuck my muzzle in his face. “I can't stand it here, Spike. I want to return to Ponyville and never see Canterlot again. But I can't do that because I'm a princess and princesses have royal duties that they must attend to, whether they like it or not.” I snatched the scroll out of his hands, rolling it up with a tuft of magic. A flash of my horn set it on a table by the window. “I have to do this, even if I don't like it. Short of killing myself, I can't run away from my destiny.”

I pulled back and breathed in deep. There I went again, saying more than I should have, and I mentally kicked myself for it. Spike stood still, blinking, eyes dancing, twiddling his claws like a schoolcolt in a play who forgot his line.

“I'm not sure I'm getting to you,” I said. “Nopony's listening.” I leaned close again; Spike didn't move an inch. “I am not comfortable with this. I do not like this. I never wanted any of this. But nopony asked me for my opinion. This is what I am now. Forever. Is that sinking in, Spike?”

I took a step forward, my nose touching his. He fell on his back, barely catching himself.

“You know what I'm thinking? I'm starting to think I should tie a noose around my neck, and jump out the window. That one right there. Right now. Is that clear enough? Are you understanding what I'm saying here?” I put my hooves on his shoulders, pulling him up and shaking. “I'm crazy!”

“A-are you alright?” Spike stuttered, clutching his claws together.

My frustration burst from me with a short laugh. “Yeah!” I combed back an undone lock of mane. “Why wouldn't I be alright? Whatever gave you that idea?” I giggled through clenched teeth.

I turned to the table with the scroll. The scroll in turn floated up, encased in purple glow, and unfurled itself. All these check marks, all these preparations for the great celebration. Celestia's celebration, that I had to prepare. Celestia's celebration, where I would be put on parade so the common ponies, my subjects, could marvel at the amazing Princess Twilight.

“See, Spike?” I asked, turning to him and showing him the scroll. “These are the first royal duties Princess Celestia has given me. I can't just quit on it. I can't risk letting her down.”

A movement caught my eye. Celestia herself stepped through the doorway. “And I'm sure you won't.”

Spike jumped up, all but forgetting everything that transpired a moment prior. “Your highness!” he said, only to throw himself to the floor again, only face-forward this time.

It was impossible to deny the power that radiated from Celestia: an aura that commanded as much respect as fearful awe, even adoration. It was something that I, as a princess, never had – and deep inside, hoped I never would.

Blood froze in my veins at her sight. All my anger and frustration drained out of me. By the time I realised it, I too had bowed before the Princess.

“No need for that now, Princess Twilight.” Putting a hoof under my chin, she urged me to rise.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

Celestia gave a short, hearty chuckle. “No need to apologise.”

“Sorry,” I repeated, an embarrassed grin spreading across my lips.

Celestia gave me a warm, reassuring smile. “I must admit, it is wonderful to be looking forward to the Summer Sun Celebration.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, Celestia walking past me.

She stopped at the window and gazed out at a nearby spire. Princess Luna reared atop a terrace there, horn glowing – and behind her, as the Sun began its descent, the Moon crept above the horizon.

“For my subjects,” Celestia began, “it has always been a celebration of my defeat of Nightmare Moon. But for me...” She closed her eyes for a sigh. “It was just a terrible reminder that I'd had to banish my own sister.”

Spike and I exchanged a look, looking for the right words. None of us had an answer. “I guess I never thought about it that way,” I said.

Celestia turned from the window, beaming at me. Under her gaze, a pleasant warmth filled me, driving out what doubts still lingered in my mind. With Celestia there, it felt as though nothing ever could go wrong.

“But now,” she continued, “it has become a wonderful reminder of her transformation back into Princess Luna, and our happy reunion. I am so pleased that you will be playing a role in the festivities. I know it must have been difficult to see your friends return to Ponyville without you.”

That last sentence broke the illusion. The cold returned to my limbs, and an incorporeal weight pushed down on my shoulders. I had to turn away. “The mayor was desperate for their help. And I, well...” I looked up, sending Celestia a quick smile before hanging my head again. “I had duties here. No way around it.”

“You may no longer be my student, Princess Twilight,” Celestia replied, “but I hope you know that I will always be here if you need me.” She bent down, coming to eye level with me. “Just as I hope that you will always be there when I need you.”

Gently, she placed her cheek against mine. Her warmth surrounded me again, but could not cut as deep now.

A claw poked my shoulder, and Spike cleared his throat, making us look up. “I think this guy needs you,” Spike said, thumbing at a cream-coloured pegasus floating in the doorway.

From the way the mail stallion flapped his wings, I could tell he was feeling uncomfortable. I would know. Perhaps he'd never seen the Princess act so intimate with one of her subjects. Then again, I reminded myself, I'm not one of her subjects any more.

“Um,” he began, holding up a simple envelope, “message for Princess Twilight.”

I grabbed the envelope with a spell. Before I even tore it open, the mail stallion was gone. As the envelope's mouth cracked, a cloud of confetti spurted forth, accompanied by the sound of a tiny, festive horn. Pinkie Pie's work, if I'd ever seen it. It reminded me, again, where I would rather be.

“A letter from Ponyville, I presume?” Celestia asked.

With a flash on my horn, the envelope disappeared and re-materialised on the table. “Never mind that,” I said. “You said you'll be here if I need you, Princess Celestia.”

Celestia raised a brow. Behind her eyes, I saw a subtle change, one I could not read. A chill ran down my spine before Celestia's warm aura soothed me again.

“I...” I mumbled, swallowing to lubricate my dry throat. “There is something I have to tell you, Celestia.” I shot Spike a glance. “In private.”

Celestia raised her chin and tilted her head to the side, examining me with a careful eye.

Spike pulled his neck in. “Twilight, are you sure?”

“Whatever Twilight wishes to say,” Celestia said, “she must have a reason for asking you to leave. I have no doubt she will tell you when she feels ready. Until then, I ask you to respect her wish.”

“She's been like this all day,” Spike said, pointing two upturned palms at me. “She's acting so weird, but she won't tell me anything. I want to help, but—”

“Spike, please,” I said.

Spike crossed his arms. “If that's what you want.” He flipped and walk out, taking one last glance before shutting the door.

Celestia said nothing. She just looked.

“I don't want to hurt him,” I said. “I don't want to hurt anypony. There is something I should've told you a long time ago.” I raised my chin, straightened my back, and – looking Celestia straight in the eye – puffed my chest out with a deep breath. “I don't want to do this, Celestia.”

She cocked her head, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Do what?”

“I do not want to be part of the Summer Sun Celebration.”

Her smile melted. She opened her mouth, only to close it again. Her brows furrowed, drawing ridges of concern over her forehead. Before she spoke, she licked her lips. It was subtle, and even I barely caught it. “Why?”

“I do not like being a princess.” Celestia put a hoof forward, and I put mine up in protest. “No. Don't try to change my mind. You can't.”

“Talk to me, Twilight,” Celestia said. “What is wrong?”

“Everything is wrong,” I replied. “Ever since my coronation, nothing has been right. Every time I look at my reflection, I see somepony else.” I unfolded a wing, curling it before my chest. “I can see that I have wings, but they don't feel part of me. They don't feel... mine.” I folded my wing back, in turn raising a leg to look at the bottom of my hoof. “Every step I take, it feels like I'm walking somepony else's path.” I put the hoof down, looking Celestia in the eye. “In more ways than one.”

Celestia stepped closer, again lowering her head to my level. Her look of concern remained. She took the leg I had raised into one of her hooves, and eyed it intently. The patches of missing hair and marks of teeth on bare skin were plainly visible. “I understand,” she said. From her tone, I could tell she was sincere. From experience, I could tell she was wrong.

I pulled my hoof away. “I don't think you do. I want to change back.”

Celestia straightened her neck. “Back?”

“I want to be a unicorn again,” I said, puffing my chest. “I want my body to shrink back to its real size. I want the wings gone.”

The change in Celestia's expression was subtle, but this time, the meaning was clear as day. Where before she looked at me with the eyes of an equal, she now had the look of an adult searching for the right words with which to explain something to a naïve child.

“I'm afraid, Twilight, that would be impossible.”

“Why?” I asked, leaning onto my front legs. With my chin upturned, I nearly rose to Celestia's height. “You changed me. Change me back.”

Celestia closed her eyes and shook her head slowly with the motions of a disapproving mother. “I did not change you, Twilight. The magic was inside you all along.”

“So what were you doing there? In that, that place.”

“I was there to watch,” Celestia answered, “and to help. Would you rather I had left you to your ascension alone?”

I brought my weight off my front legs, leaning back. “You gave me the spellbook. When I arrived... there, you told me that you knew I could do it. Literally. You knew what was going to happen.”

She smiled again. “I had a hunch.”

“Don't smile at me!” I waited a breath's time to collect myself. When counting to three in my head didn't work, I took my eyes off Celestia. Turning, I walked to the table by the window, banging my hooves at the tiled floor to work off impotent anger. “You knew,” I whispered through my teeth. “All along, you knew.” I put a hoof onto the table, setting my eyes on it.

I heard Celestia's hoofsteps, but I didn't turn to look. “I knew you were ready to finish Star Swirl's spell,” she said. “I could never be certain it would do what it did – although I hoped.”

I clopped my hoof against the table's wood a few times. “Why?”

Celestia choked on a word. For a moment, she was silent. “I gave you Star Swirl's book because I thought you were ready.”

I scoffed, turning my head up, looking out the window. The terrace atop the nearby spire stood empty now – Luna had moved on to other duties. The Moon shone bright, reminding me of my first great victory at the behest of Celestia.

“Because every little filly wants to be a princess, right?” I asked, eyes on the Moon. “I'm losing my mind. Every minute I spend in this body, I am draining away.”

Celestia took a step closer. When she spoke, her voice, quieter than usual, came from my level again. “Don't you see, Twilight? None of this would have happened, had it not been your destiny. All of this...” A hoof touched my wing. I shook it off. “This was meant to be.”

Looking up, I stared into my faint reflection. “Meant to be?”

Everything that had ever happened to me – meant to be. Celestia thought to comfort me with that. My whole life, laid out ahead. When did it start? When would it end?

How much did she know?

Meant to be. Those words broke something in me. My muscles tensed and anger boiled. A scream of anger burst out of me, and I slammed a hoof on the table; I heard Celestia recoil with a gasp.

“You should've told me.” I turned around to face her. The great Princess of the Sun was afraid to look in my eyes. “You should've told me.”

Celestia turned her head away.

“What if I don't like this? Have you never considered that? Why the secrecy? Why give me that book at all?”

I stepped forward. Celestia kept her eyes on the floor.

“Is this why you chose me to be your student? Is this the reason Cadence watched over me when I was a filly? How much of my life has been your doing? What right did you have to force this on me?”

Celestia's expression hardened. When she turned to me, her eyes held a shade of offense. “You blame me, Twilight, but you are wrong. I am not the author of your destiny. What happened, happened for a reason greater than any of us, and there is nothing we can do to change it.”

I stepped close, puffing my chest against hers. “If it weren't for your meddling, I would still be my old self.”

“No,” Celestia said, placing a hoof on my chest and pushing me away. “You were destined to be my student. I always gave you Star Swirl's book, and you always became a princess.”

I searched Celestia's eyes for hints of deception. What I found was more frightening: she genuinely believed what she said. “What are you talking about?”

“Consider your life,” Celestia said. “From the moment of your birth, the arc of your destiny had been written. Canterlot, my school, Ponyville, the Elements of Harmony – you hit every note. I am not your greater, nor anypony's. We are alike, you, I, and all of us: we're actors in the same play.”

I'd never taken Celestia for a fatalistic fool. “You're saying this was inevitable. That you had nothing to do with it.” My nose scrunched with disgust. “I think you're washing your hooves.”

“Would you rather believe,” Celestia asked, “that I gambled the fate of Equestria on the chance you might make friends and save my sister? Would it ease your mind if I said I had no idea what was going to happen when the Elements turned their magic on you and disintegrated your old body?” She ground her teeth. “Destiny is irrefutable. I had faith that whatever was to come, it would be in our favour. And so it was, time and time again.”

Her pathetic excuses made my blood boil. “I don't care what you believe. I hate my destiny. I want the wings gone.”

“I understand how difficult it is to face an uncertain destiny,” Celestia said. She placed a warm hoof on my cheek. “But you must have faith. With every step you take, you will find the path ahead becomes clearer.”

“Very poetic.” I slapped Celestia's hoof off. “But you're not listening.” The words came pouring out, louder with each breath. “I can't live in this body any more. Look at me!” I sat down, spreading my front hooves and wings. “This is not me. This has never been me, and this will never, ever, be me!”

I stopped, panting, staring. Celestia stood still as a statue, eyebrows raised.

When I became Celestia's student, I would never have imagined I'd raise my voice in her presence, much less stand in open defiance before her. Slowly, Celestia's expression softened. Her lips curled into a smile.

“Better?” she asked.

Strength spent with anger, I dropped to my haunches. My legs trembled, chilled to the bone. The feathers on my wings fluttered with every shiver that shook my body. I shut my eyes as tight as I could, concentrating on my breathing to block out the cold. “I'm afraid,” I said, shaking my head. “Celestia, I have never been more afraid.”

At Celestia's warm touch, the cold left me. By the time I looked up, I was in her embrace.

Celestia arced a wing around my back, blanketing me. “Your time will come,” she said. “You have done great things, Twilight. And you are destined to do so much more.” She bent closer. “All you need is a little patience.” She took one of my hooves into hers. “This is not an ending, but a prelude. Beginnings – these first few steps – are never easy.”

I sniffled. “Do you really think this is for the best?” I glanced at my leg, worn from many falls and nervous bites. “Do you think I'll outgrow this?”

“I cannot help you,” Celestia said, “unless you open up. What is really wrong?”

I rested a cheek on Celestia's chest. “I can't explain it. It feels like I'm trapped in the wrong body. I was a librarian, Celestia, and now I'm... I don't even know what I am.”

Celestia's wing pressed tighter. “You used to be my number one student. Today you are a Princess of Equestria, and its saviour several times over. But...” She put a hoof under my chin and beamed. “Far more importantly, you are a good friend. You are what you are because there is nopony in this world who could spread joy and harmony the way you do.”

I turned the other way, pushing her hoof off. I think I was blushing. “You're overselling it.”

“Am I?” Celestia chuckled. Then her expression turned serious. “I might not be the pony you need, Twilight. A visit to the Crystal Empire, perhaps?”

“Cadence?” I asked. “Of course, Cadence! Did she feel the same way too?”

“Do you think, for a moment, that she didn't? Although...” She looked away for a second. “Her reaction was nowhere as intense as yours. Still, I believe she could help you far better than I. Unless, of course, you have any objections to that. If there is anything I can do, you need only say it.”

I pulled my cheek from Celestia's chest, placing a hoof in its place. “Maybe not throwing me into the Summer Sun Celebration. I mean, I'd like to be there, but strictly as a spectator.”

Celestia's chest expanded with a deep, contemplating breath before her response. “If that will help you, by all means. Although I will miss you by my side.”

“Please,” I said. “I need this.”

Celestia nodded. “Of course. Do you need anything else?”

“Time, Celestia. I need time.”

Celestia's wing slid from my back. “Alone, I presume.”

“Yes,” I replied. “Thank you.”

The Princess stood up and walked for the door. “If you ever wish to talk, find me. I'm always here to listen.”

No sooner than Celestia opened the door, Spike came rushed around the corner, ducking in between her legs. He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my chest. His quiet, suppressed sobs said more than any word. Celestia sent me one last smile before leaving. I returned Spike's hug, with wings as well as hooves.

“I don't know what's going on,” Spike said between heavy breaths. “But please don't give up.” As he turned his head up to look in my eyes, his scales brushed my coat. “Don't shut me out.”

“I will never leave you, Spike,” I said. To that, he put his cheek to my chest again.“But right now, I need time to think. Alone.”

Spike clutched his arms tighter. “I don't want to leave.”

I took my hooves off him, placing them on his shoulders. That made him look up again. “Then don't. But me...” I stood up, turning for the window and spreading my wings. “I'm taking these for a spin. To clear my head.” I put a hoof around Spike's shoulder, and placed my cheek against his. “I'll be right back.”

I couldn't stand to look at Spike on my way to the window – I felt like a monster, leaving him alone again. Had I turned back, I might not have left at all. Figuring it best not to drag out that goodbye, I opened the window and leapt into the cold, night air. My wings caught wind, and with a few flaps, I was off.

I flew without direction amidst the spires of Canterlot for a good minute. I found them distracting. I couldn't think. With a turn around the palace, I flew out of the city, and set course for Ponyville.

Coming over the walls of the city, a cascade of waterfalls signalled the mountain's end: a steep drop beneath me revealed a staggering height. The Moon's light illuminated the valleys near and far, and its light danced through rivers and lakes across the land. All of Equestria, at my hooves.

The lights of Ponyville twinkled like a lone star in the night. And there, although I couldn't see it through the cover darkness, was the Golden Oaks Library, my safe haven – the only place in all the land, perhaps, where I could still feel like myself. The last bastion of my former existence. That was where I needed to go.

At first, I was concerned that I wouldn't make it there, but my wings never grew tired. A chilling gust of wind rushed at me and cut to the bone, making my wings shiver. Yet they carried on, unrelenting.

Uncertainty filled my mind. Thoughts of Celestia, of destiny, of friendships made and endangered raced in my head.

It wasn't long before I reached the town. Some ponies were still outside – unusual at this hour. Near the town hall I spied Rarity, desperately trying to point something out atop the building to Mayor Mare at her side. I altered course and dropped height, using rooftops and the darkness as cover. I didn't want to be seen, not now.

I decided against ever putting my hooves on the ground. I entered the library through the balcony; as always, the upper door was open. What reason was there to lock doors in Ponyville, after all?

True enough, my wings had made a valiant effort in getting me home through the cold. The homely warmth of my room was a welcomed feeling. I closed the balcony door, shutting out the chilling air.

I dropped myself down in front of the broken mirror. The fragmented image of Princess Twilight looked back. Although I couldn't read her expression through the cracks, I could tell she was hopeful. I felt my lips curl into a smile.

“Life in Equestria shimmers,” I whispered. “Life in Equestria shines.” I licked my lips, eyes turning to the reflection of my horn. “And I know for absolute certain, that everything is certainly...”

As I stared into the broken mirror, my smile slowly dissolved. “That everything is certainly...” I breathed in, prepared to say the last word.

I exhaled with a sigh.

“Oh,” said a new voice, “things have gone off the rails again, haven't they?”

Behind my reflection, I saw a shape I hadn't noticed before: a long, slithering body curled on my bed. His elbows sunk into the mattress as his eagle claws grasped his clutched lion paw. On the top of his claws rested a goatee-adorned chin and a sardonic grin. “Poor little thing. Trapped inside a body that isn't hers, surrounded by ponies who don't care.”

I whipped around. “What are you doing here, Discord?”

Discord's body lifted up, as though drawn by strings. He stretched out above the bed, turning onto his back and clasping his hands behind his head. “I was in the neighbourhood.”

Despite his supposed reformation, with Discord around, I never felt at ease. I knew I could not fight him – not without the Elements of Harmony and my friends.

He rocked in the air just above the bed; this put him between me and the balcony. The stairs were closer, if I had to flee. But then, there was no running from Discord. I hated to admit it, but whenever he appeared, I was at his mercy. We all were.

I could only hope our tenuous friendship meant something to him.

“Calm your little heart.” Discord cupped a hand behind his ear. “I can hear it pounding all the way from here. Take a deep breath, relax.”

I set my hooves and straightened myself, tensing every muscle in my body. To give a more intimidating silhouette – to show I wasn't afraid – I unfolded my wings. An uncertain, unwitting gulp gave me away. “Need I remind you about the importance of honesty in a friendship, Discord? Tell me why you're here.”

As Discord rolled his eyes, he flashed his oversized fang. “Fine, you got me.” With a spin, he curled his lower body into an upright posture, putting his hands up innocently. “I'm not here to hurt anypony. On the contrary.”

A flash of light blinded me. By the time I realised what happened, Discord had his body coiled around my legs, and his paw on my shoulder. “You see, I couldn't help but notice that one of my friends has been under the weather as of late.”

I moved to shove him off, only to whack at thin air. With another flash, Discord appeared at my other side, this time wrapping his claws around my shoulder. “So what's a good friend to do, I wondered. I mean, on the one hand...” He lifted his claws and turned his palm up. “It is none of my business. You must know how I hate intruding into the lives of others.” He raised his paw, turning its palm up as well. “But on the other hand, if I watched my friend suffer when I knew I could help them, what would that make me?”

He sprung onto the bed. The lower half his tail didn't fit, so he dangled it lazily off the side.

I found my legs frozen – not by Discord's magic, but out of fear. Still, I did my best not to let the trembling reach my voice. “Get to the point.”

“You made quite a racket back there in Canterlot,” Discord went on. “All that yelling. Only now did I understand what pains my good friend.” He turned his eyes up. A candle appeared above his head and lit up with a flash. “You don't like the path Princess Celestia picked for you, do you?”

I looked to the floor for a second. “If you were there, you already know.”

“I wouldn't worry about it if I were you.” Discord slithered off the bed, an extended claw on my chest. “You're a princess now, just like her. That means you no longer have to do what she tells you.”

“Celestia didn't make me an alicorn.” My horn glowed, picking Discord's claw off my chest. “I was always going to be one.”

“Pfah!” Discord scoffed. “Why'd you let Celestia fill your head with that mumbo-jumbo? Think how boring life would be if it had such a rigid course.”

“I find it hard to believe, too,” I replied. “But my whole life, my studies, Nightmare Moon, the Elements, Star Swirl's spell... it would be one huge coincidence.”

Discord put a finger on his lips, giving a pondering “Hmm.” He took the finger off. “Maybe that's right. Maybe destiny is a real thing. Celestia told you it was like a play, didn't she? That we're actors playing by the script. I don't like that analogy.”

Discord pushed himself off the floor and sat on an invisible bench, looking sideways and twirling his goatee. “I prefer to think of it more like a ship.” He looked back at me. “Yes, a ship, lost at sea in the night.”

“I don't see how that implies a direction,” I said.

“I'm not finished.” Discord floated back to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and putting his head beside mine. He raised his other arm like a curator presenting their most important exhibit. “You see, there's a light. In the distance stands a lighthouse, a guiding beacon. That's your destiny, where the ship is headed.”

As Discord talked, I started to feel as though I was indeed on a boat. The floor rocked gently with the water, and the walls creaked and heaved.

“But the sea isn't peaceful,” Discord said. Like a violent wave crashing into a ship, my room shook and canted sideways, knocking me over. Discord's arms cushioned the fall. “It is difficult, staying on course. Occasionally, detours need to be made. But history is nothing if not stubborn. It course-corrects, you see, admitting only the slightest change. Ever feel like something is missing – that something isn't right? Ever said something, then wondered if you really did?”

He ran his claws through my mane. “It would appear that somehow, something, somewhere went wrong. A tiny little wave, one unnoticable current threw the story off course. Except, perhaps, destiny thought your opinion wasn't worth fixing.”

Discord moved his lips to my ear. “Why don't you like your wings, Princess Twilight? You're supposed to be elated.” He put both arms up, grabbing onto a wheel that wasn't there. “Yank the wheel hard enough, and you might turn the ship around altogether.”

He tensed, then he turned the pretend-wheel with all his strength. I expected another violent push to shake the room, but nothing happened. He took his hands off the wheel, curling his body to come straight in front of me, eye to eye.

He raised his eagle claws between our eyes, putting the tip of one against another, poising his fingers to snap.

“I can get rid of your wings, Twilight Sparkle.”

By reflex, I wanted to scream yes. Before my tongue could twitch, I remembered who I was dealing with. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

Discord relaxed his fingers, then in one swift movement, clutched his claws on the top of my head. He yanked me, turning me to the broken mirror. A splintered, terrified Princess Twilight looked back.

“This is why,” he said, pointing at the mirror. “Is this what you want to see for the rest of your life?” He slid his claws back on my head and down my neck, running a single talon down my spine. “Remind me, how long are you going to live again? What – hasn't Celestia told you? She never tells you anything meaningful. But you just need to have faith, right?”

“I absolutely trust her,” I said, trying more to convince myself.

“Are you feeling hopeful?” Discord asked. “Weren't you exactly like this after your coronation? Take it from someone who's played these sorts of games before: the pain never goes away. You may soar now, but you know as well as I that you're going to crash again.”

I stared into the mirror, and Princess Twilight stared into me.

“No,” I said. “Give me a real reason. Can one change destiny?”

“You already know the answer to that question,” he responded. “Remember the spell that turned you into this? Remember what happened when you first cast it?”

“My friends,” I mumbled, thinking out loud. “I changed their destinies. But it was wrong – I gave them destinies that weren't truly theirs. They were unhappy, so I had to fix it.”

Through the mirror, I saw a grin creep up Discord's cheeks. He crawled closer, raising his poised claws between my eyes and the mirror.

“You'd do it?” I asked. “Just like that, a favour for a friend?”

Discord relaxed his fingers, retracting his hand. “Well, maybe not just like that.”

I turned to him. “Yes, I figured there'd be a catch.”

“It's nothing big,” he said, putting his palms up in protest. “I ask for one little thing in return. You scratch my back, and I scratch yours, that sort of deal. As a princess, it really shouldn't be anything to you.”

“What is it?” I stomped, and Discord recoiled.

“Well, when I say one thing, I really meant six things.” He let loose a short chuckle. “The Elements of Harmony. Give them to me. Lift the spell that prevents me from touching them.” He jerked up, standing at attention and slamming a hand onto his forehead in a salute. “I shall guard them with my life.”

“No.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Forget it,” I said. “What do you take me for?”

“But I'll promise I'll be good.” His eyes subtly grew, and took on an innocent shine. “I'd never ruin my friendship with you. I promised, after all.”

I pointed to the balcony. “Get out.”

Discord bent down, pushing his puppy-dog eyes into my face. “Are you sure there is nothing I—”

“Yes. Out. Now.”

His innocent look melted into a frown. His eyebrows came down, and above them, wrinkles of frustration formed. Discord raised his head, towering above me with his full height. I couldn't help but take a step back. Then, as quickly as his frown had appeared, it turned into a grin in a fit of laughter. He bent down again, chuckling, placing his paw on a knee and pointing a claw at me.

“You should've seen yourself there,” he chortled. “So intense, so determined.” He lunged forward, grabbing me and bringing me up to his level. “I can see why Celestia chose you.”

“Celestia didn't—” Discord let go, and I plopped to the ground.

“You've passed the test with flying colours,” Discord went on. “Of course you won't give up the Elements. It would be far too dangerous, placing them in my vile claws. Not even in exchange for your greatest wish would you endanger Equestria. No ifs, no buts.” I barely stood up when he pinched a pair of claws around my cheek. “You'll make an excellent princess yet.”

“Test?” I asked. “What test?”

“Truth be told, I really thought I could break you,” Discord said, shrugging. “But you've always been a tough nut to crack. Seems you've only got stronger since our first run-in.”

“What test?”

“Oh, so sorry. Got a little ahead of myself. Celestia asked me to keep an eye on you, that's all. This little test was my idea.” He rubbed his chin. “Come to think of it, I don't think I was supposed to reveal myself at all. But you know me: subtlety simply won't do.”

I scoffed. “So what you said about destiny, the ship metaphor, that was a lie?”

Discord pursed his lips. “'Lie' as in I just made it up to mess with your head? Absolutely. 'Lie' as in untrue? Well, how would we know? If you could change destiny, you'd inevitably mistake it for the real thing, isn't that right?”

Discord may have been mad, he may have been lying, but I couldn't help thinking he had a point. I have changed destiny before – or was that, too, part of a greater plan? Was it an error, a violent wave rocking the ship, or just a brief detour from its original course?

Behind Discord, on the bedside table, something glistened in the moonlight. A shiny, metallic thing. The toolbox that Spike had carried his tools in. With all the work he's had filling in for me, he must've forgotten to put it away.

Sticking out of the box were a multitude of tools. Wrenches of varying sizes, types of hammers, screwdrivers, a roll of sandpaper, and more that I wouldn't care to list – and a saw. A wood saw, toothy and sharp.

Perhaps Discord had driven me mad. Perhaps this had been within me all along, and I only needed a little push. I took a glance at the mirror, at Princess Twilight. Again, the flame of hatred blazed inside me. The legs, the horn... the wings. My horn lit up.

“So like I said,” Discord blabbered on, “you're going to be a great princess. Responsible, reliable.” He put his claws on my head, gently now, and petted my mane. “I'll be sure to tell Celestia that you're fine, if a bit confused.” The saw floated by Discord, stopping mid-air beside me. “And what are you doing?”

“You're right,” I said. “I don't have to live a life that isn't my own. It doesn't matter what Celestia wants. I've had enough. She can't dictate my life. No more.”

Discord chuckled, grabbing the saw's blade with two careful talons. “Very amusing. Now, if you'd let go of that thing—”

I yanked the magical thread that bound the saw, pulling it from Discord's grasp. “This is not a joke. I'm turning the ship around.”

“No,” Discord said, clasping both hands on the saw's handle. “You're going to sink it.” He pulled the saw away. “What's got into you?”

“If something should happen to me,” I said, “then the circle of the Elements will be broken. My friends, the five of them, they won't be enough to restrain you.”

Discord froze for a moment, hands still on the saw. Then they went limp, falling by his side. The saw floated back to me.

“As I thought,” I said. “Be honest, Discord, at least with yourself. You feign concern, but you don't care. You'll never care. The only thing you look out for is your own skin.”

“You know I'll tell Celestia about this,” Discord grumbled.

“And I'll tell her you made me. You got into my head. You altered my mind, like you did back then.” Discord raised a claw in protest, but I silenced him. “Come on, now. You might be a walking insult to rationality, but you're not all dense. Who do you think she'll believe? The pathological liar?”

Discord's eyes narrowed. “She just might.”

“You leave now, and I'll never mention this. Not even if I survive.” I winked. “Because you were right before: this is not a life I want. Whatever happens, we're all winners. Stop me, if you want. Go on. Turn the saw into butterflies. Teleport me into Celestia's chamber right now. Just remember what a chance you're forfeiting – and think about what Celestia is going to do once she hears my side of the story.”

Discord's lips slid open to reveal his teeth. His talons and paw clenched into fists, and his tail swayed stiffly side to side.

“I'm giving you an out,” I said. “Be a good friend and take it.”

“Congratulations, Twilight Sparkle. You've done what nopony has ever managed.” He looked me over, to which I raised a brow. “You've frightened me.”

He snapped his claws and disappeared in a flash of light.

Judge me all you want. Call me selfish, irresponsible, idiotic – I've been doing that for a while. At the time, I thought, the conversation with Discord opened my eyes. There was no way I could continue living like this. In the mirror I saw no wings, but a festering canker that had to be removed.

It wears you down, seeing somepony else in the mirror. The old, rational me would've stopped and realised that what I was planning was insane. But that's just it: I wasn't my old self.

If I'd gone to a hospital with this request, I couldn't imagine the fallout. And you know what they say about things you really want done.

I had no plan. No knowledge. How do you prepare for something like this? I ran down into the library, then into the basement. From a dusty shelf I removed a first-aid kit.

Blowing the dust off, I opened the lid. Years-old bandages, a can of spray-on sanitiser, a pair of scissors, band-aids, and a few other things were inside. About as good as I could do at such a late hour, without telling anypony.

Had they known! By Celestia, had they known...

I rushed up the stairs, heart racing. I couldn't be sure Discord wouldn't come back – and bring an audience just for kicks. I threw the kit and saw into a saddlebag, and leapt from the balcony before I even fastened the latch.

After the warmth of my room, the collision with the freezing night air came like a cold shower. I breathed in deep and beat my wings hard. In the distance, above the canopy of the Everfree Forest, a crumbling spire marked the ancient Castle of the Two Sisters.

It was there where my life had began in earnest – where I stepped onto the path Celestia laid out for me, the path I still followed. We defeated Nightmare Moon and saved Princess Luna's soul. We wielded the Elements against Discord, and all along their magic gestated inside me. After the defeat of King Sombra, Celestia gave me that cursed book so that I could unlock its secrets – tricking me into becoming the monstrosity I was.

No more.

My wings carried me effortlessly past the sea of trees. In no more than a minute, I arrived at the castle. The decrepit rope bridge was no obstacle now. The return trip would be a different tale altogether.

One thing at a time.

At the base of the castle's tallest spire, I alighted on a mouldering sill – once a great window, perhaps, now but a hole cut into heavy, grey stone. Although the walls stood defiantly in the face of time, little remained of the dome that once covered the great hall beyond.

In ages past, the windows of this hall had been decorated with intricate designs. They were lost now, scratched off by the fangs of animals or eroded by time. A grim reminder that even the greatest glory fades.

Persistent, as though seeking my attention, the Moon shone through the ceiling that wasn't there, and through the myriad minute cracks in the walls. The throne room of the Two Sisters had once been the most important place in all the land. Now the hall was abandoned to decay.

My body obstructed a fraction of the moonlight flowing inside, casting a long shadow across what remained of the far wall. A little less light in the hall – fewer rays to bounce between the walls – because of me, the castle became a little darker. I unfurled my wings, and their shadows ate away even more of the precious light.

As I folded my wings, a little light returned. Sometimes, little changes make all the difference in the world. Centuries-old dust, disturbed after untold years by the gentle fluttering of my feathers, danced in the seeping rays of light.

At the centre of the hall, a monument of white stone towered. We'd long ago removed the Elements of Harmony from their pedestal, but the edifice remained. I glided from my perch, landing softly under the monument.

I always thought I was born twice. Once, in Canterlot – then, when my friends ignited a spark inside me, in this very castle. Here I was safe from prying eyes, safe from the wild creatures of the forest, and safe from the scolding words of Celestia.

Here, it all started. Here, I would reclaim the life taken from me.

The monument sat atop a stone slab the height of my head. I threw the saddlebag off without looking – my eyes were set high on the shrine. I placed a hoof onto the stone slab. Before my mind's eye, I saw a little lavender unicorn lie here, five orbs of stone in front of her.

Twilight Sparkle's horn glowed with magic as she willed the Elements of Harmony to life. A cloud of darkness – Nightmare Moon – crept around the orbs and picked them up, interrupting Twilight Sparkle's concentration. The cloud swirled, and the orbs swirled with it. In a flash, she was gone, as were the Elements. Nightmare Moon shattered them, and all hope seemed lost.

But we beat her in the end, didn't we?

I wondered if it could have ended any other way. Had I failed to connect with my friends – had they failed to ignite that spark within me – would fate have chosen another hero? Was there any way for Nightmare Moon to win, or was her defeat predetermined?

The sound of Pinkie's laughter filled my mind. I heard the air whistle past my ears as I flew with Rainbow Dash. Rarity clapped, Fluttershy cheered, and Applejack yelled in uncontrolled excitement. Celestia sang.

I screamed, raising my front hooves to bring them down to the stone floor with a stomp, drowning out the memories. All that remained was the silence of the night, the lingering echo of my scream, and a shower of moonlight.

Slowly, I extended a wing, and the saw floated up, its teeth resting against the wing's base. My skin tingled as the sawblade moved the hairs of my coat out of its way. A shiver ran down my spine at its cold touch. I toyed with the saw – I toyed with the idea. I pressed it closer to my skin, feeling its prick. I relaxed my muscles and pulled the saw away. Then I put it back again.

I angled the saw this way and that. A little press here, making a mark. A tiny prick there, weak enough to not draw blood. I should've been scared. I moved the saw down, gently, letting the teeth tickle my skin but make no incision.

The saw floated up before dropping onto the stone slab under the monument.

In purple light, the first-aid kit slid from the saddlebag and the top popped off. An elastic band floated out: a tourniquet to halt bleeding. It snaked through the air and clasped onto my extended left wing, creeping to the very base where the bone met my spine. There it coiled itself tight. As my blood pumped against the obstacle, my wing began to go numb.

My heart was beating faster than I realised.

I picked the saw up again – with hooves this time. I shook in the cold night air, but that did not bother me. I put the blade against my forehead. I liked the cold. Moving the blade away, my foggy reflection caught my eyes. In the sawblade, an opaque image of Princess Twilight begged me to turn back. I lowered the blade before she could change my mind.

But maybe she was right. To saw through bone was an excruciating effort, and immensely painful – or so I've read in books. And although the pain of cutting off my wings was nothing to the torture of living my whole life with them, in a moment of dark brilliance, I realised there was a better way.

I placed my half-numb wing onto the slab. From the first-aid kit, the bottle of sanitiser levitated out, and sprayed the base of my wings. Magic surged like a rock above my wing, pressing, compressing, flattening it against the stone.

For if there was one thing that I'd learned about my wings, it was that these light, hollow bones were incredibly easy to break.

My heartbeat grew faster, and my breathing followed. It would only take a second.

A second.

I threw myself down, twisting as I fell to hit the floor with my back. My spell held my wing in place.

A crack, a pop, a scream, a deep breath – just like that, the base of my wing splintered into myriad fragments.

The limp wad of loose skin and muscle that connected the wing to my body would be easy to cut through. My teeth chattered.

I closed my eyes, working past the pain. A rush of adrenaline helped ease it. My hairs stood on end, and every inch of my body trembled. Any second now, I'd go into shock. I had to keep my mind clear at least until my task was done. I bit onto the base of a hoof and breathed quickly, heavily. On my broken wing's side, something warm drooped.

My horn prickled. Before my closed eyes, the saw lifted to the air in a bright glow. It angled down and swooped at my wing, cutting hard, cutting deep – my back arced up, and I howled my pain.

My nose dripped in the cold. I heard my own spitting, snorting, grunting becoming faster by the second.

The saw moved back, crunching tissue and ligament. At each tear, a lightning bolt of pain rocked my body. I shivered, pressing my hooves at the cold floor.

The saw moved forward, raking, ploughing the soft mass. As it dug deeper into my flesh, suppressed screams slipped between my teeth.

Back and forward, back and forward, faster and faster. My body convulsed to the rhythm of my frantic heart. I tasted the blood from the lip in my mouth.

My entire left side was numb. My chest pounded. Everything in me desired to flee. My hooves ached to gallop, my lungs were ready to carry me away, and my right wing twitched, trying to catch air.

With a wet pop, the pressure on my left wing disappeared, making me fall into the collecting pool of blood and spittle. My horn lost its glow, and I heard the saw clatter to the floor. I turned my eyes up in time to see my severed wing slide off the slab, painting it red, landing with a wet plop, crumpled, pale and spent.

No sooner than the elation of being rid of that tumour filled me, the pain hit like a freight train. At the broken base of the wing, just above the red-stained tourniquet, blood dripped weakly, spurting in tandem with my heartbeat.

My horn lit up. The first-aid kit slid closer, into hoof's reach before the glow died. I pulled it closer and searched through it, but found no second tourniquet. I didn't care. I got up on shaking legs and turned to place my right wing on the slab.

I clenched my teeth and powered my magic. I didn't bother with the sanitiser this time. Like a landslide, a collapsed building, the magical cascade pinned my other wing down. I kicked my hooves out and fell, turning to my back. A dozen minute cracks ran through my wing, and the pain raced down my spine like a bolt of lightning. From a hundred popped veins, I splattered blood over the slab and the monument above.

It seemed darker in the hall, now. The Moon shone just as bright – not a cloud to be seen. I would finish this if it cost my life.

I pressed my hooves against the floor to stand, and a whip of pain lashed at my spine again. My wing was splintered, but not wholly broken. I stomped, powering up my horn, slamming a bolt of force at my wing like a hammer. The wing crunched, and I screamed. One deep breath, and I threw myself down again.

My magic died at the yank on my wing, letting it free. I sucked air in between my teeth, spurting, spitting as I breathed out.

A desperate groan slipped out. My horn glowed, bright as the Moon itself, and my aura wrapped around my wrecked wing. The vice-like grip of magic pulled the wing one way, and I crawled the other way. I pulled, I yanked, I spun. One after the other, bones popped from their place, tendons ripped and sinew snapped. Blood rained like water from a soaked, twisted rag.

My horn fizzled, and the magic dissipated. The wing fell beside me, broken and crumpled, but still connected. My breaths were growing shallow, and the light of the Moon faded. I canted my head, scanning frantically for the saw. Seeing it, I extended a hoof – as if that would bring it over. I concentrated all my remaining strength into my horn, willing the saw to move. It floated up, and I blacked out for a split second. The clattering of the saw woke me up.

My lips contorted into a grin.

“Life in Equestria shimmers.”

My horn glowed again, and the saw flew up high.

“Life in Equestria shines.”

My horn lit up brighter; a string of magic pulled my limp wing into the air, stretching it straight.

“And I know for absolute certain...”

The saw floated closer, slackly, weakly.

“That everything is certainly...”

The saw came down like the blade of a guillotine, tearing off the wing at the base in a single swing.

“Twilight!”

The light of my horn dissolved, letting the saw fly away as it rode momentum, clattering to a stop somewhere.

I didn't even feel pain any more.

“Fine.” My lips curled to a content smile. “Everything is just fine.”

I turned myself around, kicking the severed wing away, soaking my coat red in the pool that had collected underneath me. There stood Celestia, eyes wide and legs stiff with terror. Discord's body curled in the air behind her.

Celestia rushed over, but I could not hear her steps. I saw her mouth move, and I saw Discord flinch when she screamed at him. Her voice echoed through the old castle, but I could make out no words.

I saw Discord poise his fingers for a snap, but my vision turned black before he did it. I didn't know what Celestia said, or what Discord's intent was. None of it mattered now.

I was not sorry.

I turned the ship around.

I won.

I woke to the twittering of birds, and the distant chattering of many, many ponies. For brief moment, before I remembered who I was, I was free of guilt and pain. After a second, it all came rushing back. I pulled a hoof from under my blanket and put it to my forehead with a sigh.

Looking around, I realised I wasn't in the castle any more. Nor was I in Ponyville. By the look of it, I was inside a room of Canterlot Suite. By the bed stood a tall metal stand; a bag of some liquid hanged from its arm. From the bag, a thin cord ran down, meeting the bend of my leg through a bandage. With a spell, I picked the needle out.

The curtains were drawn before the window. What little light seeped through filled the room with an eerie twilight. By the sound of it, somewhere far below us, there were ponies in the streets, rushing about, talking, yelling.

I heard a snort. In the other corner, on a chair, a middle-aged mare slept. By her cap – white with a red cross – I figured she was a nurse. Behind her, a mirror hung from the wall. Through the mirror, I saw Twilight Sparkle – myself – lying in bed, tucked cosily under her blanket. I smiled, and she smiled back.

“You did it again, Twilight,” I whispered.

I fidgeted, rocking the bed and making it squeak. The nurse's ears perked up, and with another snort, she shook herself awake. She jumped from the chair and rushed over.

“Princess Twilight—”

I raised a hoof. “Just Twilight, please.”

The nurse swallowed a word. “I agree, this isn't a time for formalities.” She reached for the blanket, but I stopped her by putting my hoof on hers.

“It's fine,” I said. “Really, I'm feeling great.”

I smiled, at last, honestly.

There was movement outside the door. A deep voice asked to be let in, but another, a sheepish, squeaky one, said he couldn't disturb the Princess. The deeper voice insisted, and before the squeaky one could object, the door burst open.

A large stallion, armoured in full Royal Guard gear stomped in, with another following closely. At the door, a scared-looking nurse patted the floor with the tip of a hoof. The nurse inside puffed her chest out and stood between the guards and myself.

“I don't care what's going on outside,” the nurse said. “The Princess needs to rest. You can't put her on the spot like this.”

“We should let the Princess decide that,” the guard said, shoving the mare not so gently out of his way. He came up to me and saluted. “Princess Twilight, it is imperative you come with us.”

I kicked off the blanket and climbed from the bed. “What are you on about? What's going on outside?” I turned for the window and pulled the curtains open with a tuft of magic – only to recoil with a gasp.

The sky was split in two: one half was filled with the light of the Sun whilst the other was dark as night, lit by the Moon and stars. I leaned out the window to see the citizens of Canterlot running around headlessly, panicking and screaming the end of the world.

“What in Equestria happened?” I asked.

“It's Princess Luna and Princess Celestia,” the guard said.

The other guard stepped forward. “They're gone!”

“What do you mean, gone?” I asked back. “Where are they?”

“We don't know,” the guard replied.

The nurse cut in. “Luna was last seen raising the Moon yesterday evening. The last account of Celestia was...” She gulped. “She appeared in a flash of light, and you, Princess Twilight, you were with her. Your wings, Princess, they were... we thought we'd lose you.”

“And then Celestia vanished,” one of the guards said. “She asked to be left alone, and just like that, poof! Last anypony's seen her, she was headed for her room. Now she's nowhere to be found. That's why we've come to you.”

The other guard saluted. “We await your command.”

“My command?” I asked, flinching back.

“We're officers of the Royal Guard,” the guard said. “We take our orders from royalty. With Princess Luna and Princess Celestia gone, and Princess Cadence overseeing the Crystal Empire now, that means we take our orders from you.”

Before I could respond, a third guard trotted inside. He stopped to salute, panting. “Your Highness! News from Ponyville! The Everfree Forest appears to be... invading.”

“Princess Twilight,” the nurse interrupted. “I understand this is a lot to be thrown on you. But there is some good news.”

I turned to the nurse. Then, behind her, I noticed something in the mirror.

“We don't know what, or who attacked you,” the nurse continued. “Celestia wouldn't say anything. But, and we don't know how or why, but your wings...”

My heart pounded again. My head became light. I walked around the nurse, eyes set on the mirror.

On my sides, I saw wings. Small, like those of a young filly, but wings all the same. Feathers, bones – no wound, no scar, no blood. But that was impossible. I cut them off. I left my wings in that forsaken castle in the forest. All that remained were tiny, broken, bloody stubs, unrecognisable in any form.

I cut those tumours.

“Your wings are already growing back!” the nurse said. “At this rate, you'll wholly recover in a matter of days.”

My teeth chattered. I began shaking. I could not control it.

“Princess Twilight!” one of the guards said. As I turned to him, all three guards dropped to the floor, kneeling deep before me. “There's no time to waste. We need to know what you want us to do.”

I glanced outside, at the defiled sky. I looked at the guards, kneeling, completely still, awaiting my command.

And I realised I could never escape my destiny. I could yank the wheel all I wanted; the ship of history would always remain on course.

It doesn't matter what a pony wants. It doesn't matter what a pony thinks. Destiny is irrefutable. Irredeemable.

Destiny is cruel.

Turning my head, I looked again at the mirror, and saw the eyes of Princess Twilight glisten with swelling tears.

I want to take the wings off, but I can't.