The worst part of life is the not knowing, the uncertainty of next.
The day Sunburst got his cutie mark and had left me forever—and I had convinced myself that I could do nothing to get him back—I took control of my life. I chose to make myself somepony and to rely on nopony, regardless of what anypony thought I should do. I chose everything I did, the good and the bad, and took responsibility for everything that happened to me.
That had led me to helping damaged and unhappy ponies by removing their cutie marks, which led ultimately to me destroying Equestria a dozen times due to my inability to see mistakes that I now recognized but still didn't understand.
I had changed Equestria. I knew this even if nopony else did.
Nevertheless, here I stood, forgiven—and that made me crazy with uncertainty, and gave birth to something in my heart that I could not yet control, let alone understand.
I now owed Twilight—the little purple mare that Sunset and I had once called "the runt" back at Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns, a princess, a Hero of Equestria, and now an alicorn subtly now larger than her friends—more than my life. I owed her my soul.
I so wanted to understand why.
When I found the dining hall, having been pointed the way (twice) by Spike who delivered the summons in the secondary science library, I saw the cart with china and silver squeaking as it rolled in Twilight's magic. I smiled. I sensed her lovely alicorn-magic as it pushed the cart, and spun up the inkling of a hoof-count of helpful household spells. As a street fighter—ah-hem, competition spell caster—I'd refined spell prep to an art. Numbers and equations, faint but fiery, whirled in my vision but didn't light my horn. Never let them see your magic coming.
Dishes.
Growing up, a servant had always set the table, but I knew where each dish and utensil went and how to judge the alignment of all the pieces to know if the hoofpony had performed his duties. At this, at least, I could help my teacher; I knew Twilight Sparkle came from a humble background in Lower Canterlot. Some unicorn ponyfolk didn't have plates at all!
Twilight said, "—we very carefully set the table—"
It was enough. I instantaneously solved the math and cast Levitation, directionally setting the vectors and buoyancy of over fifty articles, using an integrals trick Sunburst had taught me after the Crystaling to apportion force, and in moments the shiny silverware and the blue and purple cloisonné on gold plates assembled into place-settings for four that would have made my butler, Proper Step—bless his cold cold heart—beam.
"Yikes!" Twilight stuttered as the clatter on the table ceased. "What?!"
"What?" I asked, proud of the magical mathematical perfection I'd demonstrated.
"I'd said 'no magic'."
My mouth opened as I replayed in my mind her last words, and yes, she had. Celestia on Roller-skates. What I really needed was a patience lesson!
Twilight half-pouted as she continued, "—do it by hoof so I could work in a friendship lesson."
"Oh." Well, huh, that was unexpected. Set a table like an earth pony?
Having dealt intimately with non-unicorns running Our Town, I understood they had to use their mouth or the frogs of their hooves, though some pegasus could manage with the steel-like pinion feathers of their wings, but still… Not. Sanitary. What did that demonstrate about friendship if you were a unicorn? I stared at the wet semi-circle on the plate Twilight had set by mouth, not by hoof.
I stifled a sigh, looked embarrassed as I could about not listening, and said, "I heard 'set the table' and just… kinda… went for it."
"Well, if you hadn't used magic, you'd have heard me say, uh... this plate represents your head, this spoon is your heart, and the knives..." She froze for a second.
I wasn't sure if it was her being put on the spot or her tendency to think she could ad-lib when not in a life-or-death situation.
"—are sharp!"
Ah. Of course.
Had I not fought Celestia's troubleshooter myself and had only read about her exploits with Nightmare Moon, Discord, Tirek, and so many more, I'd suspect it had all been fabricated. The squeak she made saying sharp made me think about how the alicorn could have used her magic to set individual items instead of doing it by hoof, but she didn't think that way. In her case, being sharp mentally was situational, though the adjective did describe knives.
She added, quickly. "Always be careful with knives."
I tried to pay attention and not laugh. She might be the Princess of Friendship, and an expert in the discipline, but dealing with ponies without using magic was something I could teach her.
She added, "The metaphors make more sense when you're actually setting the table."
I began to worry I'd left her on the edge of tears or had really confused my absentminded professor. "Should I," I asked tentatively, "change it back?" I bit my lip.
She relaxed a bit and looked down. "I just want to make sure you're ready for this dinner." Her smile grew. "Princess Celestia will be joining us—"
Oh, just what I needed. The princess had treated me with painful neutrality in the Crystal Empire, like a cousin with a reputation you didn't want to admit to or discuss. It surprised me that she'd accepted Sunburst on my word, though of course she knew my early history—and he had been a student of hers, though a failed one. I'd shared my history with Sunset Shimmer after having been mind-controlled by a monster (long story). Having never said the information was a confidence—and personally I didn't care—I'm sure she had filled in anything Celestia didn't know about my half-year as a prodigy in Canterlot. That said, the last time I'd seen the princess prior to the Crystaling, I'd refused her offer to become her student, her third: the heartless soldier Starlight to join the contriving bitch Sunset and the runty professor Twilight.
And. Oh, right... I'd called her a tyrant to her face.
Her attendance did explain the banner hung with my face on it together with one of Celestia. Twilight (or perhaps Spike) understood it was traditional to display coats of arms for nobility at dinner parties.
Twilight had continued speaking and I replayed in my mind, "—tomorrow night to see how the friendship lessons are going."
Tomorrow night.
Me, Twilight, Celestia.
Alone.
I guess I did care about letting Twilight know some things about me. Twilight lived in a naïve world and I didn't.
As my eyes traveled away from Twilight, I noticed the table setting and it sparked hope. "If it's just you, me, and Princess Celestia, why are there four settings?"
"Well, the whole point is for you to bring a new friend."
My first thought: I'd invite Rainbow, though Rarity understood much of what I dealt with growing up: manners, proper clothing, dealing with snobs… Or Flutters—
"—That way, the princess will see for herself just how far you've come…"
Uh! The princess again! Which of the five could engage the princess and leave me the good listener?
As Twilight began to verbally preen, her voice went up. "And how good a teacher you have." She shouldered me to show that she was being clever—like a twelve year-old.
Maybe that was the key: I'd observed Twilight interact with Celestia during the feasts and parties following the Crystaling. The best way I could describe her was overly deferential; the princesses were theoretically peers. Actually, refining that, maybe Twilight was trying to look good for a parent who gave rare praise. In any case, that also described Sunset Shimmer when I dealt with her, before the mirror incident Cadance informed me about over a hard cider after her foal had finally fallen sleep. I suspected Celestia's stingy praise was what had driven the aggressive fire-maned mare to drink back at school. This kinda proved it by congruence.
But that left choosing one friend. It was kinda hard. Maybe Twilight could choose for me? With a smile I said, "Well, I can't choose. I like all your friends!"
"That's the best part! You have to make a new friend!"
I felt the blood drain from my face and limbs. Cold filled me and I flashed back to the moment I realized Twilight intended to reunite me with Sunburst. Well, it worked out really well in the end, and we were friends with benefits now, but the shocks along the way weren't good ones.
I laughed—okay, it was more of a nervous chuckle. "New friends?" How could I tell her that wasn't a good idea, though, undoubtedly it was. I had to say something, but what? Right! "Hey, maybe I'll just force friendships by magically enslaving the entire population of Ponyville!"
I wanted to smack myself. Going for the joke. Really, Starlight? I couldn't get the nervous grin off my face.
At least she didn't have a mind reading spell. She didn't, did she?
"Starlight!" she said with the complete lack of humor a pony got when they stopped drinking or when they were on a diet when you ribbed them about it. In an epiphany, it occurred to me that at one time, Twilight must have been one of the least friendly of ponies and had reformed herself.
She, of course, took the joke wrong way.
Like I could magically enslave anypony. (Magically mind-controlled once by a monster, remember?) Until Twilight showed up, the unhappy ponies who became citizens of Our Town had asked to be unmarked. Yeah, I had sold it as equalization therapy, but I believed in its efficacy; still did. And it helped ponies cope. I admit, I was erroneously convinced that cutie marks caused inequity and were the greatest cause of strife and evil in society (a cutie-mark talent for mind-control is evil, ok?), and I now understood my logic error, but, really? Enslaving? Had Twilight not shown up, everything would have continued in Our Town until I realized the futility of it in a decade or so, or until my citizens, some of whom I understood now were becoming friends, like cuddly Double Diamond, cued me into my self-deceptions.
"Kidding!" was the best I could do. My nervous titter helped me sound as contrite as I endeavored to be. I so very much needed to understand what Twilight had to teach, and to understand her and why I was redeemable, why I could be considered a friend, and whether I should forgive myself and if that were even possible. I reminded myself that I had deduced that Twilight had learned these same lessons once herself—having needed to learn them.
I resolved to ask her to tell me that story, the why as well as the how.
Author's Note
If you liked the story, why not try these Starlight Glimmer stories also, or go to my story page?
The Enforcer and Her Blackmailers - A Novel
Short Stories:
Rediscovering Harmony
Bedroom Interlude
The Forgiving Lesson
Lesson Learned
Please comment or, if so inclined, leave a critique. If you critique this story, please indicate the passage you're critiquing and what you thought I was stating, that way I can tell how what you read deviated from what I meant to write. Thanks in advance.
The banners mentioned the story are in the episode. The image I used for the cover is a cropped frame capture.
