The dim glow of Luna's moon shone through the curtained window of Twilight's bedroom, painting a silhouette on the floor that was carefully positioned to not touch the bed at any point during the night. Twilight herself slept peacefully, a full day of hard spellcasting, running, and friendship work causing sleep to take her practically the moment her head hit the pillow. In fact, that literally was the case, leaving Twilight huddled on top of the covers because she hadn't stayed conscious long enough to slip beneath them.
The door creaked, just a little, shattering the late night silence, then froze as if waiting for a response. When none came, a soft teal glow surrounded the hinges before it swung open silently, just wide enough for a grown mare to slip into the room and shut it behind her, being careful not to catch her tail in the doorjamb like she had the last time.
Starlight Glimmer's horn glowed softly in the dark, as dim as she could make it and still carry the bag the floated gently in her magic. She slid towards the bed, allowing the black socks she'd slipped on to muffle her movements and prevent Twilight's awakening. After all, it wouldn't do for the Princess to wake up at an inopportune moment.
She came to a stop at the edge of the bed, looking down at the mare curled up on it as she murmured slurred mathematical formulas in her sleep and hugged a stuffed dragon that looked an awful lot like her familiar. Spike? Yeah, Spike. That was his name.
With a near glacial slowness, the corners of Starlight's mouth turned up in a smirk as her gaze slid over the room to make sure nothing was out of place. She was extremely pleased with herself, had been for the entire day, and now that nopony was watching she wasn't afraid to show it.
She had watched Twilight and her friends (but mostly Twilight) for months, studying their every move in order to gauge how best to break them. She knew what they ate, where they worked, how they relaxed, and of course, had heard the stories everypony told about them once she'd started asking around. She'd thought most of yarns they had spun had been made up until she saw what the future was like without Twilight's friendship, of course, but that had more to do with their implausibility than Starlight's own biases.
She'd heard what had happened to those who had gone up against Twilight and her friends: The saga of Nightmare Moon, banished by the elements, then purged of her darker influences upon her return and restored to power as Celestia's equal: Of Discord, first locked in stone and then converted by Kindness: Of Chrysalis, and Sombra, and Tirek, blasted away to parts unknown: then finally of Trixie Lulamoon, corrupted by a cursed amulet and then forgiven for her destruction. She knew then that the justice of Equestria was amazingly skewed, so crooked that the scales of truth might as well be sitting on the floor, and not only that, but the courts were tilted in her favor. From that thought her plan began to change, growing to accommodate the backup she had eventually needed to use.
The bag opened, and a small object slid out, glinting silver in the moonlight. She held up the paring knife, letting her gaze trickle down the blade and noting the scorch marks where it had been hit with dragon fire at some point in the past. Starlight idly wondered when exactly it had gotten burned. Was it before, in Twilight's old library, back when Spike was just learning to cook, and if so then how had it escaped the blast?
In truth, once she had hit upon the concept the rest came easily. Retooling Starswirl's spell had been challenging, yes, but it took more patience and persistence than actual mental effort, leaving her free to come up with ways to outwit Purple-Smart. The key had been finding exactly which point in time to screw up, and Twilight-here Starlight had to smother a giggle-Twilight herself had given her exactly what she was looking for.
Once the plan had begun, Starlight had what she wanted. Twilight couldn't interfere with Starlight's attempts to stop the Sonic Rainboom without tampering with it herself, and the expressions Twilight made after each failure only got more entertaining as her frustration mounted. The time Twilight had shot Rainbow Dash herself had been particularly humorous, and it had taken all of Starlight's composure to not just burst out laughing on the spot and instead up the ante with sarcastic applause. Twilight had looked like she wanted to explode or disappear after that, and the display had made Starlight feel all warm inside.
Then Twilight had made her critical error. Twilight had asked why Starlight was doing this, and Starlight had pounced on the opportunity. The journey to her perfect village had been slow and complicated, and Starlight had shown Twilight only the first step on a very long road. As it turned out, that was the only step she needed to show. Using the scroll to go see an old friend of hers who'd turned out to be a major jerk was simple enough, and Twilight had made her big conversion speech without having to see any of the other instances Starlight had mapped out in advance.
And Starlight had agreed to stop. Not because the Princess had convinced her, Celestia forbid. That only happened in children's stories. No, she agreed because she'd seen two paths laid out before her, known those paths right from the beginning: one that led to her own destruction, even if it came with Twilight's as well, and another that would give her both her life and her heart's desire, not by overthrowing the system and replacing it with her own, but by settling into its heart and eating it from within.
For Twilight's speech had not changed her, not made her see the error of her ways and swear off evil forever. No, it had just reminded her why she was doing this in the first place. How broken Equestria was, a place where foals were bullied for no reason other than the abusers own sick amusement and where punishment never matched the crime. How only she, Starlight Glimmer, could fix it. She remembered plan B, that if Twilight offered her a chance to change her ways, she would take it and so be above suspicion.
The lack of a proper punishment for her actions had only been the frosting on the cupcake. She didn't even have a social stigma to overcome before she could put her plans into action, let alone have to pay any actual penance. They'd just turned her loose with a pat on the head and expected her to behave in spite of everything she'd done. She would have called it madness, and it was yet another reminder of why she needed to take over as fast as possible. That kind of criminal handling wasn't just dangerous, it was stupid, and when she ruled Equestria it would be the first change of many on the assembly line.
Of course, maintaining the charade had not been easy, as Starlight had felt torn between mad laughter and angry rants for the rest of the day. Sure the musical number helped, but Sweet Celestia, those lyrics. They made her want to puke at the sappiness of it all. Still, she grinned and bore it. If that was what it had taken to be accepted, well, she had prepared herself to face worse.
Starlight grinned as the knife lowered toward's Twilight's sleeping form, the mad gleam in her eyes only barely restrained. And now Twilight was going to reap the harvest of her misplaced trust.
Slowly, carefully, Starlight sliced a few hairs from Twilight's mane (just in case), slipped them into a sealed bag, and kissed the tip of her horn. Hurting Twilight would do nothing to further her plans at this point, and she already had the revenge she'd wanted so badly. Every second she spent free, free and trusted by the most influential ponies in Equestria was proof that she had tricked every single one of them. Every time Twilight smiled at her would be a reminder that Starlight had fooled her. Every time Starlight ate breakfast with a Princess proved that Starlight was smarter than her, more devious, no matter which Princess it happened to be. The rest of her life would be a constant reminder of her greatest feat, and if she ever for any reason got tired of it, that would mean she really had reformed, at which point she would just come clean and there would be no consequences. If she hadn't gotten them before, she certainly wouldn't now.
Starlight snorted faintly, then turned and left as quietly as she had come, returning the knife to the kitchen and the bag to her closet, then curled up on her own bed and went to sleep. She had nothing to fear from the Princess of Friendship, and if all went well, as it had so far, she never would. Starlight dreamed of equality, secure in her victory.
Author's Note
This story came from watching Lily Pete's "Best and Worst of Season Five" video. In it, Lily criticized Starlight as a poor followup to Lord Tirek, causing me to ask myself why I loved Starlight as much as I did. This somehow turned into the sleep-deprived realization that, if Starlight was faking her redemption, as every writer's instinct I have told me the last fifth of the finale would not work in any sort of reality, she had won.
Starlight is now in the perfect position to either A. strike again, or B. get what she wanted (which could either be equality or simple belonging) through official channels. No other villain has ever succeeded like this, and I would not be surprised in the slightest if the next season opened with a remix of Scar's line, "Long live the King."
Best of all, this headcanon almost cannot be disproved. If she does something, it's right. If she does nothing, then she's just playing along and it's still right. The writers would have to go out of their way to address it and even that might not work.
