Symptom of a Larger Problem, Really
Twilight?
Twilight Sparkle, can that really be you? Imagine, meeting you, here of all--
Oh.
Oh, my poor dear girl. That's really quite a wicked-looking blade sticking out of you. Eight inches, at least. And -- ooh, look at that saw-tooth work along the edge, there. That can't have been pleasant at all.
Afterlife? Oh, no no no no my dear. The edges may be fuzzy, the light may be fading, but you’re not there yet. I had that joke with another man, in another place, a very long time ago. You? Well, I’m not so sure what we can do for you.
You see, you're just barely clinging on to life right now. And, in a good deal of pain, from the sound of it. You simply must tell me sometime how somepony screams with that many punctured lungs. But where was I? Yes, of course, 'imminent demise'.
And it is imminent, you realise. None of your little friends were around, just you and--
Heh. Well, no, I don't suppose you want to be hearing her name right about now, do you?
What's that? You'll have to speak a bit louder, dear, I never did get 'round to learning Gurgle.
Help? Haha! Oh, oh dear me. I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound callous. I just-- I do believe that's the first time you've ever actually asked. Rather amazing what a situation like this can produce in a pony, isn't it? The strongest will, reduced to begging, the staunchest foe suddenly looking the friend -- past sins forgivable so long as you get a reprieve?
Tell you what: I know this probably doesn't seem like the best moment for a heart-to-heart, but, to be perfectly frank, you don't seem to be going anywhere, so why don't we just sit down and have ourselves a little chat, hmm? It’s been far too long, and there are some things we need to discuss. Oh, don't bother getting a chair, I'll manage. You just lie there and . . . try not to bleed out before we've finished.
You’re surprised. Cold comfort, I know -- me, here. Not your goddesses, nor your friends, parents . . . just little old me, floating here on the fringe as you fade. Stings, doesn’t it? No comforting words, no warm arms to hold you, no soft voice to sing you to sleep.
I can see the hurt in your eyes, you know. You really never saw this coming. All that time, all those countless chance encounters, and you never once considered . . . ? Hmph.
It’s just funny to me, you see -- after however many millennia of looking over your shoulder, you forget what trust feels like. Generation after generation you ponies have trampled the grass, and still you cling to the notion that, at your core, you’re all sugar and spice.
Did you honestly believe you could save them all? Did you honestly think they’d all want you to? I mean, Tirek, the King of Shadows, the Brood-Mother -- they’re one thing; they’re not hard to understand, not hard to fight -- they’re not kin. But the rest? You could never bring yourself to hurt them. Not when there was a chance you could set things right, show them where they had erred.
Little Twilight, they steered you so wrong.
Do you even understand how lucky you’d been up till now? How rare a thing it is to find someone who wants to be redeemed? Who’s willing to go the distance, look inside, acknowledge their mistakes? Who’s willing to look back on all they’ve done and say, objectively, truly, that they regret it? Every moment, from beginning to end? That they’re willing to change, simply because you disapprove of their choices?
But, no, a few chance successes, a shuckster here, a griffon there, that ideal builds in your head. A little success here, a little victory there, you’re ready to believe that your vaunted power of friendship can turn anypony. Any pony. It’s been drilled into your head for years, hasn’t it? A message handed down from on high that Friendship is Magic, that everypony can be saved if you try hard enough, that the only answer is forgiveness.
Oh, little Twilight. Little, little Twilight Sparkle.
Look where that got you.
Shall I tell you a secret, Twilight Sparkle? I don’t think it was ever about friendship. Never about ‘Harmony’. It was about you; about what you were willing to believe. Celestia and Luna knew it, Tirek knew it, I know it. I know what they saw in you, because I saw it too, from the very first day I laid eyes on you.
I looked at you, and I saw the heart of a universe. I've seen universes, and I've seen the little children on whose shoulders they rest. Some brash, some bold, some eager, some quiet, some cold, some tired, but all children, all fumbling at the edges of what they knew and what was demanded of them. And I looked at you, and the fire that burned in you put them all to shame. In you, I saw the girl who would not be broken, the bright creature who put aside despair for the love of her world and seemed poised to accept her place as the wheel on which her universe turned.
And quick as blinking, there you were -- wings, a castle, a shiny new crown to call your own. And I couldn't have been happier for you -- apotheosis, good show! Just the thing to save ponykind from all the dark creatures lurking at the fringes of your quaint little utopia. Horns outward, poised like lances against the inevitable stampede, hooves planted and ready to take on all challengers.
And then . . . nothing. You flew, you soared, you sang with the light of a thousand suns, and we watched your enemies burn.
And then?
Nothing.
You went about your life, changed nothing. Oh, sure, a sparkly new castle, a wish-fulfilling and eerily convenient god-tree -- business as usual, right? The status quo. You held the power to join your fellow Princesses in making your world truly safe from any threat, to safeguard your fellow pony from all that lurks in the dark, within and without.
But no. Instead, you proudly held up the old ideal, hiding behind a map and a periodic light-show with your friends' cutie marks to keep up the façade that the only real threats to you were outside the Equine ken; that no matter the situation, no matter the creatures and ponies involved, the monstrous and the forgivable were all nice and easy to categorise -- your ponies, no matter their sins, fit in the latter box, and everypony else, the former. And I think I understand why, now, here, at the end.
It is not because you loved them.
It is because you were afraid of what it might mean if you could not.
Because, surely, if one pony, just one, failed to live up to your ideal, your ideal would fall apart. Because if you couldn’t redeem every single wrongdoer, then the pedestal you set them on crumbles. Because if any single one of them proves you wrong, you’d have to do the unthinkable and acknowledge that you cannot save them all.
And now you're fading out, that bright little flame ebbing away. And why? All because you trusted one too many, one time too often. Seems petty, doesn't it? That one little pony, one little misplaced bit of faith, could break you -- break Equestria. And it has, you know. They’ll manage for a time, all puffed chests and fine words, but all around them, the walls will be crumbling, slowly. Equestria will die quietly, many ages hence, as the irredeemable tear your people asunder. As Harmony wanes, and the dark things conspire and multiply; as the Sisters lose touch with their land and abandon their grand project in despair; as your precious tree withers, they will have won.
And why?
Because you couldn't make the hard choice.
Because you couldn't stomach the notion that you might be wrong.
Because you were afraid.
And now? Now all I see is a broken bit of eggshell, a phoenix who wouldn't soar. A quiet little ember flickering at the very edges of warmth: a shattered thing. A reduced thing. The burning spark of a world, extinguished in one brief moment of violence.
And all it took was one pony to refuse. One pony to throw your forgiveness back in your face, to stab you in the back, and your pretty ideal comes tumbling all to pieces: Harmony, a lie; Friendship, a falsehood. And not simply because it is lacking; because it lacks you. You, the only one who could have made Harmony a reality, who could have given the world the notion that those violent, ugly few exist who cannot be saved. You, who could have seen them weeded out for the chaff they are. You, who could have realised paradise, had you but bothered to ensure it was protected.
Harmony died the moment you refused that call, Twilight Sparkle, the moment you refused to let go of what you knew and acknowledge the unthinkable truth. You couldn’t let go of that beautiful delusion that everyone could see the world your way, that everyone could be saved.
And now, it's out of your hooves. The world turns without you, from now to oblivion.
Farewell, little Twilight. Burn bright in those last moments; I'm sure whoever else comes along will find it just that much more poignant. It must seem a terrible waste to spend your last moments in this world soliloquising at you about your failings, when you are so clearly beyond rectifying them, but . . . well, you had to know. Even if no-one else, across the world, hears what I had to say, you did, and that's quite enough for me.
And as for my part? Well, perhaps, if we had more time, I could tell you all I suspect had been planned for you; all that Celestia and Luna had done to work you into their plans for a brighter future; or perhaps what I plan to do now that Harmony is fallen -- after all, what's one more unrepentant spirit of Chaos to add to the din, now that things have gone so badly askew?
Or, perhaps, I should wallow in the disappointment -- wail and beat my breast as all the could-have-beens shatter like so much falling glass. But we both know that's not who I am; there's far too much fun to be had in the imperfect world you leave behind, to waste my time lamenting the idyll your naivety cost us all.
Goodnight, Twilight Sparkle, and know that you are not forgiven.
