Starlight Glimmer Does Not Want to Make Friends With Trixie!

by Ceffyl Dwr

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Twilight Sparkle, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Starlight Glimmer, Trixie
Length: 4339

The absolute worst thing about Starlight Glimmer's friendship lessons? The sucky ponies Twilight selects for them.

Starlight Glimmer had been warned about Twilight's occasional moments of eccentricity, but her recent infatuation with setting her up on playdates friendship lessons with Equestria's Most Lame is pushing even Starlight's resolve.

And what's all this nonsense about saving everyone from 'the wrong sort of friendship' anyway?

Written prior to No Second Prances.

Published 2016-04-10 21:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-04-10 21:10:01 UTC

Nor With Lightning Dust, for That Matter!

As the tan applewood table, apparently passed down through the Apple family for generations, hovered in front of her face, Starlight Glimmer reflected briefly on the many new experiences she could count since becoming Princess Twilight Sparkle’s personal student. Some of those things had been exhilarating, character-defining affairs that had left her feeling glad to be alive. Others... Well, it was fair to say that some experiences found themselves vying for the title of worst ever.

The arrows of hot tea thudded angrily against the other side of the table. Starlight growled, and dropped the intensity of her magic field to allow gravity to take over. Today wasn’t going to be vying for that title. It was going to be winning it hooves down.

“Have you finished?” she snapped, peering round the edge of the upturned table. “I don’t want to be dealing with your sulks for the rest of the day; I’m a pretty busy unicorn.”

Across the room, standing on the broken remains of a bookshelf, the pale blue unicorn with the cornflower mane scowled the scowl of a demon—a petulant, petty demon who had just been denied her favourite flavour of ice cream on her birthday.

“Never!” she hissed, a raspberry glow enveloping a nearby vase in jerky movements as she lifted it with her magic. “Trixie is not leaving until she’s given you a piece of her fabulous mind.”

Starlight repositioned the table in front of her face, and winced as the vase promptly greeted it at high speed. “Oh for buck’s sake, would you please stop talking like that? You sound ridiculous.”

“Oh, so Trixie is ridiculous now? Was it not enough for her to be ‘dull’ and ‘boring’?”

Starlight grunted as the table shook again. That sounded like one of the framed pictures of Twilight and her friends. Starlight felt less bad about that; Twilight had far too many of those hanging about the castle these days anyway, and they had started to take on the qualities of motivational posters she had seen in some gym once. The print that hung above the teapot in the kitchen—the population of Ponyville grinning uncomfortably above the words How can you help a friend today?—was a particular lowlight.

“I didn’t say you were dull and boring,” she replied, losing the battle to keep her voice calm. “I said I found stage magic dull and boring.”

“It’s one and the same thing!” Trixie shrieked, stamping a hoof.

“Oh for—” Starlight looked over the table again, a searing heat needling behind her eyes. “It isn’t, actually, and if you had spent more time studying than performing your silly little shows then you’d probably know that.” The heat was instantly replaced by a guilty sensation of comparable temperature, and her hooves flew to her mouth as Trixie’s fell open. Nice going, she chastised herself. Way to implement Twilight’s lessons.

“I—I...” Trixie shook her head, her violet eyes flashing. “I’ve never been so insulted in my life.”

Starlight heard a heavy sigh escape her lips, and she lowered the table to the floor. “I’m so sorry,” she said, a tight twinge in her chest. “That came out all wrong.”

Trixie turned her muzzle towards the ceiling. “A lot of what you said came out wrong,” she replied primly.

Starlight felt her legs tremble as that searing anger returned in force. Who did this jumped up little prima donna of a unicorn think she was. She pushed her hooves through her purple mane, noting with dismay that the exertions of the past hour had pulled it all out of shape. “What about you?” She spat out each word as though they were nice, sharp projectiles that she could maim Trixie with—well, not actually maim but... hurt. A lot. “All that trash about orphanages and a hard childhood? Please, I’ve read your dossier. You come from a perfectly loving family.”

“Trixie—” The unicorn paused. “Wait, my... dossier?”

Starlight kicked herself. What had Twilight told her about thinking before speaking when annoyed? “Yes,” she conceded with a sigh. “Twilight has one for each of my—” spots of embarrassment warmed her cheeks, and she shook her head “—never mind.”

Trixie chewed her lip, her expression suggesting she was considering Starlight’s words. Then a sickeningly self-satisfied smile crept across her muzzle. “Hah! Twilight Sparkle has a dossier on Trixie! This is glorious, if unsurprising, news. But I wonder what the reason could be?” She held up a hoof as Starlight opened her mouth. “No, don’t spoil it, I must guess.” Her eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened they were shimmering. “Could it be? Is Twilight Sparkle considering taking Trixie as a potential bride?”

Starlight felt her eyes widen. “Er, what?”

“She is, isn’t she?” Trixie laughed, the sound echoing sharply off the crystal walls. “Princess Twilight is considering suitors—it’s the only thing that makes sense. Why else would she be sending her student to find out more about me?” The unicorn straightened up and ran a hoof through her ruffled mane as she considered the debris-strewn room. “Trixie is going to leave now and freshen up,” she said, her voice turning airy. “Then she will return and we shall attempt this again. Just... without the arguing and the violence.”

Turning on the spot, the unicorn trotted from the room with her muzzle facing the ceiling. Starlight watched her leave before she suddenly realised something. “Hey! I still want my pendant back from your dumb trick,” she shouted angrily.

Trixie leaned her head back through the doorway, violet eyes rolling. “Pendant? Oh, that silly little trinket from your stallionfriend? Fine.”

A raspberry shimmer appeared in the air beside Starlight, a long hexagonal prism of rose-coloured crystal attached to a necklace within it. Scowling, Starlight snatched it with her own magic field. “Sunburst is not my stallionfriend,” she spat, peering at the crystal—embossed with his just-aesthetically-pleasing-that's-all cutie mark—for signs of damage. “We’re old friends. Where did you put this anyway?”

A vicious smile twisted Trixie’s lips. “I know where I should have put it.”

Heat crept from Starlight’s cheeks to behind her eyes as she watched the unicorn leave. “Magic tricks aren’t really tricks when you’re actually using magic!” she spat. The silence that chased her echo away made her feel foolish, and she tossed her mane with a hoof. What a bucking idiot that unicorn was. Her foreleg throbbed then, and she gazed down at the gentle ring of teeth marks dimpling it. The way her luck had been lately that was probably going to get infected.

Anger suddenly flooded her body—an anger so intense and righteous that it left her vision blurry and her legs trembling. There was only one pony to blame for all that had befallen her today.

“Twilight?” she roared, her echo throwing itself bodily against the crystal walls. There was a slight pause before her mentor responded.

“I’m in here, Starlight!”

Starlight thrust her head out of the doorway and gazed down the corridor of doors outside. The pain behind her eyes was getting worse. Much worse. “And where is ‘here’ exactly?”

“Oh! Sorry, the library,” Twilight’s echo replied weakly.

Setting off at a brisk trot, Starlight recited the route to the library in her head in an attempt to calm her rising anger. Second left, straight ahead, first right, straight ahead again, ignore Spike’s yoga-with-weights workout, then take a second right. Pausing outside the ornate wooden doors, Starlight took a deep breath and exhaled most of her rage before stepping into the library.

A library that, apart from herself, was definitely empty.

Oh for buck’s sake. “You’re not in here!” she shouted. Her right eye twitched with the effort, and she massaged it with a hoof.

“Oh! You’re in the main library?” The still-distant echo of Twilight’s voice sounded apologetic. “I’m sorry. I meant the upper library—the one with the study balcony?”

Starlight ground her teeth and danced an angry jig. By the time she had stomped upstairs and located the upper library she was in no mood for deep calming breaths and rage-expelling expulsions. It was a stupid technique anyway. What was wrong with showing anger when you were annoyed? Especially when you were annoyed because somepony kept interfering with your life!

Twilight’s head jerked up from the papers scattered across her desk as Starlight entered. She glanced at the empty shelves on the two narrow bookcases flanking the table, before noticing all the books stacked on the table. Spike struggled past, the little purple dragon wobbling precariously as he carried another column of twenty or so tomes into the room, and Starlight nodded a greeting. She didn’t look at the covers. She didn’t care.

“Hello, Starlight. What’s up?” The alicorn blinked. “Oh my—is everything okay? You look awful.”

“Oh, you think?” Starlight looked down at Spike, who flashed a sympathetic smile before closing the balcony doors against the cool evening air. “Twilight, that was the last straw. I appreciate all you’ve done for me—really, I do—but please, stop interfering with my bucking personal life!”

“Starlight, I—” The violet and rose streaks in Twilight’s mane flickered as she shook her head, the expression on her face unreadable. “Have I offended you?”

Starlight grunted loudly. Perhaps Twilight would understand that. Spike certainly seemed to.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” The glow from Twilight’s horn briefly sent shadows across her lavender coat as a chair floated across the small library. “But please sit down and let’s talk about it. Spike, could you make us some tea?”

The little dragon patted Starlight on the foreleg as he left, and she sat down on the proffered chair with a deliberately loud huff. Twilight was looking at her with the concerned-but-critical eye of a parent, and it was infuriating beyond belief. Starlight folded her forelegs and stuck out her lip.

“Twilight, I’m a grown mare. Stop trying to arrange my friendships for me.”

The accusation hung in the air, and a smile of embarrassment rose to Twilight’s lips. At least, Starlight figured that it was embarrassment. She watched her wings twitch and shift in the resulting silence before the alicorn cleared her throat. “W—what?”

“Don’t deny it.” Starlight sat forward as Spike returned with the tea. “I’m capable of making my own friends, thank you very much.”

Twilight grimaced. “Oh no, did it go badly with Trixie? Please tell me that you tried this time?” Her laugh had a slight edge to it. “You were supposed to both hit it off; I carried out so many compatibility tests, based on—”

“I know. Like you did with Gilda.”

This time Twilight’s laugh definitely had an edge to it: a nervous, panicked edge. “Oh... Yes, but that was—” She sighed. “We all need friends, Starlight.”

There was that pain behind her eyes again. “Twilight, I’ve got friends.”

“Oh, you mean Sunburst?” Twilight waved a hoof. “But he’s your stallionfriend; that’s different.”

“He’s not my stallionfriend!” Starlight slammed her hooves onto the desk, feeling her cheeks burn. “Why does everypony keep saying that? It’s not true!”

Twilight fidgeted, leaning back in her seat. “Hey, it’s fine you know. I know it can take time between close friends to accept that your feelings are changing. I mean, I don’t know it know it, but I’ve read about it. That’s the same thing, right? Books don’t lie about things like that... right?” A deep flush rose to her cheeks, and for a moment her wild violet eyes turned pleading. “Right?”

Oh brother. Starlight massaged her head, before lifting a teacup to her lips. “Twilight, I’m almost a decade older than you. I’m perfectly aware how love and romance works.”

“Oh... Good, good.” Twilight nodded, the smile on her face turning stiff and awkward. “Then I might need to ask—Anyway! Friendship is different, and I’m the Princess of Friendship. That trumps age, right? I know what I’m doing, Starlight.”

“Sure. Who am I to question why I’m being forcibly paired off with every reformed pony and griffon you and your friends have ever met?” Starlight rolled her eyes. “Twilight, do you know how contrived that sounds?”

“But it’s about making the right kind of friends,” Twilight clarified, her hooves tapping a jittery beat on the desk as she sipped at her tea. “The kind who will bring out the very very best in you, and you in them.”

“Yeah yeah, I get it.” Starlight frowned. “You and your friends all share a wonderful friendship. That’s great and all, but not every pony—or griffon—will get that... and you know what? I think it’s fine not to.”

“But it isn’t fine.” Twilight’s grin made an serious attempt to escape her face. “I’ve being carrying out research into the current composition of friendship networks in Equestria, and the number of ponies who possess a network containing hundreds of associates, but only one or two close friends, is increasing. Do you know what that means?”

Starlight shrugged. “Tell me. I doubt I could explain it as succinctly as you.”

“It’s a threat to friendship!” Twilight exclaimed, her wings exploding outwards from her barrel. “These ponies think that they have hundreds of friends, but hardly any of them are experiencing proper, true friendship!”

Starlight felt the force of Twilight’s rant push her back into her seat, and she grimaced at the wildness in her eyes. “So... This is what you’ve been working on in here for these past few months?”

“It is!” Twilight looked frantically down at the books before pulling one free and holding it up. The text had been obscured by hasty scribbles of cutie marks. Starlight could just about make out those of Twilight and her friends, but there were a few others that were unknown to her. Was that one supposed to be an hourglass or a drunken number eight?

“These networks are bad for true friendship,” Twilight clarified. “And we need true friendship to make us stronger, better.”

A chill realisation trickled down Starlight’s neck, and she felt her stomach tighten uncomfortably. She looked across at Spike, perched on a stack of books, and noted he seemed to share her concern. “Am I... your guinea pig?”

“You mean my test subject?” Twilight’s face grew briefly serene. “Sure you are! Oh, don’t give me that look—that phrase is so misunderstood these days. Anyway, it never did me any harm.”

Starlight looked at the trembling, wild-eyed pony sitting opposite. “Yeah...”

“Exactly, right? I realised that Princess Celestia must have been worried about the same issue all those years ago. Take me for example. I was in danger of building a wide network of associations in Canterlot—” she tapped the page with the unknown cutie marks “—which would have completely inhibited my development and potential. You know how she helped me? She sent me to Ponyville, where I made friends with five amazing ponies.”

Starlight blinked at Twilight’s breathless delivery. “Okay...”

Twilight showed her teeth again, though Starlight couldn’t tell whether the expression was a smile or a grimace. “Then we saved Equestria,” she continued. “Repeatedly. Now, do you think I would have been able to do that if I was still friends with... um... Oh! Minuette, Twinkleshine and Lemon Hearts?”

Starlight chewed her lip, wondering whether there was supposed to be a correct answer to the question. “Er... maybe?”

“No!” Twilight squeaked, her wings unfolding outwards again. “Absolutely not. Can you imagine them as the Elements of Harmony? Well, Minuette maybe... The Element of Joy, I guess...” She paused, as if mulling something over, before giggling. “Element of Getting-your-head-stuck-in-an-Erlenmeyer-flask?”

Starlight took a deep breath, and shared a nervous look with Spike. “Okay... Got it. The right friends are important. Soooo... I’m just going to leave you here with your... work now—y’know, to go and make some.”

“But that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Twilight sang, leaning across the table and grasping Starlight’s forehooves with her own. “There’s no need for you to aimlessly hunt around Ponyville. I’ve done all the algorithms for you. Based on your personality traits and history, I’ve found all of those most suited to being your friend.”

Starlight felt her chest tighten again and she pulled her hooves free. “Algorithms? Based on what?”

“Well, mainly the fact that you’re all reformed individuals.”

She was kidding, right? Starlight blinked. “You’re kidding, right?”

Twilight’s smile grew tight. “I am most certainly not. Take fan fiction, for example. Have you ever read any? There are hundreds of amateur stories out there that can teach us how those with dark and edgy backgrounds can forge wonderful friendships.” Her lavender cheeks darkened again. “Or become lovers—but we’re not focusing on that at the moment. Friendship,” she clarified, tapping a hoof on the table.

At the moment? Starlight felt her stomach tremble. “So, your algorithm is based on fan fiction written by ponies?”

Twilight fiddled with her mane. “No, not just fan fiction, but you’d be a foolish foal to overlook the patterns and trends that can emerge from such important cultural work.”

Starlight grimaced. Okay, it was time to put a stop to this nonsense. “Look. Thanks, Twilight, but—”

“Oh, you’re quite welcome,” Twilight said brightly. “To be honest, this is more than Princess Celestia ever did for me, and I’m just glad I could help you.” A lavender glow surrounded a small dossier as it slid across the table towards Starlight. A crude drawing of a pegasus floating beside a tornado adorned the cover. With a sigh, Starlight opened it and hoofed through a few pages.

“Lightning Dust?”

“Yes!” Twilight smiled. “She’s going to be your new friendship lesson.”

The pain behind Starlight’s eyes returned and intensified. “Please stop calling them friendship lessons.”

“Oh.” A frown darkened Twilight’s face. “Should we go back to calling them playdates then?”

Starlight felt the blood rise to her cheeks. “Tartarus, no!”

“Okay then.” Twilight sat back, the satisfied grin on her face making Starlight want to buck it off. Hard. “Go and make friends with her. And please don’t fall out this time. I’m going to roll this program out all across Equestria if I can record some positive outcomes from your interactions.” She looked down at her notes again. “Maybe even a ‘special somepony’ one too. I wonder if dating by algorithms has ever been successfully done before?”

Starlight closed her eyes as the pain behind them flared, and this time she allowed it to encompass her body completely. “Spike?” she said, through gritted teeth, jerking the dossier from the desk. “Can I borrow you for a sec?”

“Starlight? Starlight, where are you?”

“I’m in here!” Starlight took a sip of tea and closed her eyes as Spike chuckled beside her. The sunlight pouring in from the open window felt wonderful after so many days of rain, especially given the headache she had woken up with this morning, and she turned towards it appreciatively.

There was a pause.

“That’s not even funny!” Twilight’s voice sounded strained. “This is an emergency, Starlight!”

“Oh I don’t know,” Starlight muttered to Spike. “I thought it was pretty funny.” She raised her voice. “I’m in my study, Twilight.”

Before she could draw a calming breath, a bright flash of light flooded the room, and Twilight was darting towards her, looking even more out of sorts than she had the other day.

“There you are!” she gasped. “Listen, we’ve got a problem. We’ve got a really big problem!”

Starlight frowned and sat forward. “A problem? What’s up?”

“This!” Twilight levitated a roll of parchment towards her. Still frowning, Starlight took it within her magic field and slowly unrolled it. The script on it was delicate and exotic, but still legible.

“From the Royal Court of Queen Chrysalis,” she began. “Eighteenth Queen of the Grand Hive, and sworn enemy of Equestria.” She looked up and met Twilight’s gaze. “Catchy.”

“Keep reading,” Twilight replied, her eyes wide, and Starlight returned her gaze to the letter.

Her Majesty was delighted to receive correspondence from the Royal Office of Twilight Sparkle, ~~vile harbinger of doom~~ Equestrian Princess of Friendship, to engage in ~~the terms of your formal surrender~~ diplomatic discussions concerning the forming of ‘friendship bonds’. As you know, ~~we have been attempting to find a way to breach the Equestrian defence ever since Princess Chrysalis was jilted at the altar~~ we like friendship, and so Queen Chrysalis humbly accepts your offer. She will attend forthwith, along with her ~~advance invading party~~ immediate group of friends from the Hive community. Therefore, we will require rooms for 13,482 changelings.

Yours ~~in eternal hatred~~ sincerely,

Queen Chrysalis

“It came this morning,” Twilight said, chewing her lip. “There must have been some kind of mistake; I haven’t written to Queen Chrysalis. I don’t even know where the Hive is.”

Starlight set the scroll down on her desk and met Twilight’s panicked gaze. Then she couldn’t stop herself—she smiled.

“Oh, I know, it’s so exciting isn’t it? I was beginning to think that I wouldn’t hear back from anyone.”

Twilight blinked. Her face contorted in thought for a few moments before falling slack. “You—You... what?”

“I’m sorry for being so secretive, Twilight,” Starlight said, climbing from her seat. “I owe you an apology. You were right—well, except for one thing. Your algorithm used incorrect data.”

Twilight’s horrified expression quickly became incredulous. “I—Incorrect data?”

“Yeah.” Starlight stepped over to the window and allowed the rolling vista of Ponyville to soak up the giddy tremors she felt in her stomach. She couldn’t wait to tell Twilight the good news. “You know, I was chatting to Discord—we’re friends now, by the way—and he told me that most of the folk you had me meeting with didn’t really share many of my characteristics.”

“They don’t?” Twilight’s eyes twitched, before narrowing. “Wait... Discord said that?”

Starlight turned around and smiled. “Yeah. I mean, you call them reformed—well, technically there’s no evidence Lightning Dust has been, really—but they don’t have any reason to be called that. Take Gilda and Trixie: they’re as arrogant as sin, but neither of them was doing anything wrong... Well, until they were baited by the ponies living here. Your friends, I might point out.”

Twilight opened her mouth, but Starlight held up a hoof.

“Let me finish. So that got me thinking; I looked at all the characters who you had saved Equestria from over the years, and I realised that they’re the ones whose backgrounds more closely match mine. Terrible and destructive plans born from once-good intentions? That’s us.”

Twilight set her jaw. “Queen Chrysalis isn’t misguided, Starlight. She’s evil.”

Starlight blinked in surprise. “Evil? Oh, Twilight, she just wants love—they all do.” She sat herself down and rubbed her cheek with a hoof. “I think there’s just too many broken, love-starved hearts in that Hive of theirs, that’s all. I’m just glad she responded. I sent so many letters to Tartarus, but that Tirek fellow never replied.”

“W—what?” Twilight’s eyes grew wide and a nervous, plastic smile appeared on her lips. “Ha... Very funny, Starlight. This is a joke, right? That’s why Spike is trying not to smile?”

Starlight frowned, her head tilting to one side. “What? No! He’s just happy for me. I thought this is what you wanted me to do, Twilight. I mean, just think of what Chrysalis and I are going to be able to achieve together. Oh, and I meant to ask you, do you happen to know a way of communicating with ponies in the spirit plane? I’d love to take King Sombra out for tea one day.”

Twilight’s eye twitched, then her wings exploded outwards from her barrel. “No!” she shrieked. “No more friend-making.”

Starlight gasped. “But Twilight, what about your friendship program?”

“No, absolutely not—not until I’ve had a chance to re-evaluate the algorithms. Or... Or maybe I’ll just scrap the whole idea; something has clearly gone wrong.” Her wild eyes settled back on the parchment and she blinked. “Princess Celestia first, though. We need to prepare for an invasion!”

She teleported from the room, leaving behind a frazzled-looking lavender cloud. Starlight watched it dissipate as she pondered the conversation. Then she looked across at Spike and smiled.

“Thanks for sneaking that letter inside her incoming correspondence box, Spike. I think we just might have saved Equestria.”

He grinned. “No problem. Doubt we’ll get a stained glass window in Canterlot Castle for it though. You really weren’t kidding when you said you were a master of changeling calligraphy.”

Starlight placed a hoof on her chest and puffed it out. “Top of my class.”

Spike laughed and glanced back down at his comic. “So when are you gonna tell her the truth?”

“Oh, do I have to?” Starlight laughed at Spike’s expression. “Kidding, Spike. I’ll tell her right after we’ve both had afternoon tea with Princess Luna—” she smiled as she recalled the princess’s response to her invitation request “—sorry, Nightmare Moon.”

The little dragon chuckled. “And I’ll bury all those dossiers somewhere in her library. You and Lightning Dust; I can’t believe Twilight ever thought you’d hit it off.”

“Yeah I know. Dumb, right?” Starlight felt a frown cut into her good spirits as memories of the cider-fogged night before—and of sneaking a certain pegasus out of the castle first thing in the morning—returned to the surface.

Twilight could never find out. Ever.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading! This story was born from a throwaway comment cut from a story currently being edited, and the initial idea grew legs and ran pretty hard and pretty fast. There's a little bit of fun-poking at some fan-pairings and concepts, including my own (I love you really, Trixie), but mostly I just wanted to have fun with characters I like from the show. I hope you had fun too, and that I managed to elicit the odd laugh.

Why not let me know how I've done? I love any type of feedback, and I only bite in a caring way.