In a Dark Room on the Bad Side of Trottingham...
The spartan-esque apartment felt less like a home and more like a prison these days. Granted, it was a self-imposed sentence, but Twilight could languish all the same. On the edge of the city of Trottingham, tucked between the business and commercial districts, was her solitude, despite sharing a tenement with a half-dozen other miserable souls spread between three apartments. To her left and right were a quiet couple and a noisy family of pegasi respectively, the latter never short on screaming foals, domestic fights, and curious rendezvous in the middle of the night.
Yet it was still somewhat fitting for Twilight. A miserable apartment full of disturbed ponies in the middle of the most despicable city, their sleepless, red-eyed nights shepherded by an industrious city that never ceased whatever it was cities this large did. The days and nights had begun to meld together into a sleepless mass, punctuated only briefly by a solemn meal, or the wayward greeting on the street of a passerby that wasn’t too caught up in their own misery to spare a grunted ‘hi.’
Twilight had grown accustomed to solitude. Sure, there were ponies about, but she was still alone. It was a melancholy, depressive sort of alone that could only be achieved by a pony so world-weary and downtrodden that even the last bastions of friendship had fled their castles of hope, leaving only ruin and silence in their wake.
Or so Twilight had thought, until a jarring knock shocked her from her fugue. She had almost dismissed the overly-loud knock as another domestic fight next door, but it came very unmistakably from her front door. She hadn’t had any callers in weeks, thus she thought it was nothing more than another damnable detective-type with nothing better to do than track down estranged Princesses and offer their hollow condolences about what happened; about how sorry they were, about how they wanted her to return. With a heavy sigh, Twilight opened the door, only to find herself face-to-face with a specter of the past; a shocking reminder of the halcyon days she had figured dead, buried, and gone.
“Hey Twilight, how are you holding up?” Fluttershy’s voice was thick with concern, to match the worried frown on her face. Twilight managed a brave smile, as she ever did, and stepped aside.
“I’m okay, Fluttershy. Thank you for stopping by.” Her response felt autonomous, wooden.
“I’m sorry; this is so unexpected.” The slight pegasus invited herself in meekly, waiting for Twilight to close the door behind them before gently wrapping her hooves around the defunct princess’ skinny frame. “I just got the feeling I should check on you. It’s been… gosh, months since I saw you last.”
“It’s good to see you too, Fluttershy.” Twilight returned the hug awkwardly; still unsure if physical contact was a thing she could be trusted to handle without breaking down. As it turned out, it was, if only marginally. Fluttershy’s visits were sporadic things, ranging from a few short weeks to entire months between seeing her old friend. “Do you want some tea or something?”
“That would be lovely.” Fluttershy’s smile was genuine, and yet behind it, Twilight could see the concern in her eyes. Fluttershy was the kindest, most gentle pony Twilight had ever known, but those eyes were as cold and judgmental as any. Still, Twilight didn’t begrudge her friend her efforts. She busied herself preparing a small pot of tea for the two of them, using the slight labor to distract her from unpleasant thoughts. All the while, Fluttershy sat at the small table in her kitchen patiently. Twilight wasn’t sure if Fluttershy was watching her out of polite interest for there being nothing else to focus on, or if it was a cool, even glare; the kind a watchful mother would give her reckless foal on the brink of doing something dangerous.
Either way, Twilight couldn’t feel too strongly about it. Strong feelings were what landed her where she was, anyways.
Once the tea had finished, Twilight poured them both a cup. Fluttershy took hers with a token sip and a smile. “Thank you, Twilight. You… have a nice place.” She looked around at the miniscule kitchen, one of only four rooms in the equally-small apartment. Twilight forced a smile onto her own lips, clutching at her tea with her hooves. The warmth was almost painful, but she ignored the warnings in her hooves in favor of feeling the heat.
“Thanks. It’s about all I can afford on a librarian’s salary.”
“Well I like what you’ve done with the place.” Fluttershy nodded, slowly rotating her own cup. “It’s very… austere. It suits you.”
“Thanks.” Twilight deadpanned, unsure whether she should take it as a compliment or a slight. Instead, she focused on her tea, watching the steam rise off of the surface, her hooves aching from holding the mug so tightly. Silence descended on them, oppressive and heavy. Twilight had grown accustomed to such a sensation, having spent the majority of her life in libraries by now. But with another pony there, it felt almost uncomfortable, like Fluttershy wouldn’t get along well with her oldest and best companion, quiet. She felt the need to get up, to entertain and chat, or to do something.
Instead, she sat at the table, absorbing the heat from her tea until it made her cheeks flush. Fluttershy either didn’t notice or didn’t care enough to mention anything. Instead, she just quietly sipped at her tea, her eyes flickering between Twilight and the barren apartment.
It might have been five minutes or fifty, but Fluttershy broke the silence first. It was a jarring transition from the oppressive quiet to a hush, whispered tension between them, but still it happened; innocently, almost, with just a hint of desperation and maybe a dash of judgmental reprehension.
“You should come back to Ponyville.”
Twilight’s grip on her mug tightened, and the flush that heated her cheeks wasn’t entirely from gripping the scalding liquid anymore. She let Fluttershy’s words sink into her mind, trying to dissect and process them. Why would Fluttershy want her to go back to that place? Either she was some sort of closeted sadist who truly enjoyed watching other ponies languish in agony, or it was an innocent suggestion borne of a deep-seated need for companionship and the halcyon days of their youth. Whatever the reason may have been, Twilight nevertheless felt her bottled emotions roiling. She stilled them with a breath, trying to keep her voice even and strong. Ultimately, she failed.
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Fluttershy returned immediately, as if expecting Twilight to balk. She already had her argument on the tip of her tongue, meaning Twilight was unprepared for this, both emotionally and critically. It wasn’t an argument she could win. It was bad enough that she hadn’t been expecting Fluttershy to arrive in the first place, but the poor pegasus had sprung a veritable trap of emotions and guilt on Twilight. Already, she could feel tears welling behind her eyes, ready to surge forth like so much spilled milk.
Rather than fight, Twilight took the high road.
“I think you should leave.” She whispered into her mug. Fluttershy’s lips twisted into a frown. Obviously, she hadn’t expected such wholesale rejection to her idea.
“Twilight, come on, we all miss you. Ponyville hasn’t been the same since you left, and there are questions all around town about where you went, about what happened… Honestly, it’s been almost four years. Don’t you think you owe your friends an explanation?”
“I said I think you should leave.” Twilight grit her teeth, anger mixing into the cocktail of emotions that made her hooves quiver against the ceramic mug. Fluttershy’s hoof stretched across the space between them, lighting on the back of her tense hoof gently; innocently.
Twilight flinched away from the touch so suddenly the full mug of tea went spinning into the air above the kitchen floor, crashing to the ground before either of them could stop it. Tea went everywhere, sloshing under the cupboards and the fridge, splashing up onto the wood paneling and across the linoleum floor. Broken shards of the ceramic mug skittered into the far-flung corners of Twilight’s kitchen, making Fluttershy gasp and recoil out of shock, carrying her further away from Twilight herself.
“Don’t.” Twilight’s voice was tremulous, her hooves clutched to her barrel. She looked at Fluttershy with wide eyes, like a frightened animal staring down a crouched predator. “Don’t touch me.”
“I’m sorry, I-“
“Don’t.” Twilight cut Fluttershy off, a mixture of panic and rage brewing in her gut. She felt that sensation spread through her, sending her frayed nerves into overdrive, making her entire body shiver with pent-up misery. “I don’t need another pony hanging off my tail, trying to make it all alright.” She could feel all of that energy broiling behind a paper-thin barrier, ready to surge forth and do terrible, awful things.
“I’m sorry, Twilight.” Fluttershy was crying, tears coursing down her cheeks as she pulled her own hooves close. “I just, I wanted to help you. We’re all so worried about you, and… and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.” Twilight snapped, jerking into action almost like she had been shocked. Fluttershy almost winced at the sudden transition, but watched instead as Twilight set about to cleaning up the mess. Paper towels mopped up the tea while a small brush and dustpan swept up the ceramic shards. Her magic glimmered as she manipulated all of the pieces of the operation with surety and ease, even if it was perhaps the most magic she had used at any given time in the past four years. She fell into the multitasking with a sort of practiced ease she hadn’t quite managed to bury under years of solitude and self-imposed exile. Finished with the cleaning, Twilight stood aimlessly by the sink, rinsing a rag over and over, with nothing but the sound of running water filling the air.
She wasn’t sure when or how, but Fluttershy had slipped off of her seat and into the living room. She didn’t say anything on her way out, she simply went from the kitchen to the door, and outside into the smoky Trottingham night. The door shut behind her, quietly, but the sound still felt like a hammer blow to Twilight.
Slowly, she turned off the sink, holding the dripping rag over the drain.
’What happened to me?’ The thought slid into her mind, settling into its familiar place like a house cat laying in front of a warm, crackling hearth. ’Princess, friend, I was even a lover… once…’ Twilight stared at the drops falling off of the rag, her mind somewhere else entirely. ’I was happy, back then. Everything seemed so right. We dealt with dragons and changelings and even creatures beyond description… We were invincible. We could do anything together.’
Twilight’s gaze rose to the small window above the sink, catching her reflection in the grimy glass. She looked old. Not just age-old, but weary of a long life. There were bags under her eyes, and her once-vibrant mane seemed faded in that dirty glass. Her coat was frumpy, and the bloodshot field of her eyes betrayed a thousand sleepless nights and more caffeine than anypony should ever have in them.
’How could I not have known? She was such a strong flier; it was her entire life - her own damned cutie mark! I was blind. We all were. Myself especially; it was my fault. I brought us all together. I became a princess. I was the cornerstone for the Elements of Harmony.’
Rage made Twilight shiver, her horn sparking. From outside, it would appear almost as if somepony were welding inside of her apartment. Indeed, Twilight likely could have melted metal just then. Her magic came to life, brimming beneath the surface of her restraint, boiling and vehement. She wanted to cast a massive spell; something, anything to bring the past back, so she could do better. She wanted to twist the threads of fate and change the way this tapestry had been woven.
’I want her back.’
The dam broke, and with it came the tears. Twilight collapsed onto the kitchen floor, curling into a miserable ball and choking on her sobs.
’Dash. I’m so sorry.’
