"Twilight, honey." A flighty laugh escaped the older mare's voice as she lingered in the doorframe to the dusty chamber. "How many times have we told you? We already turned Shining's chambers into a guest room. Plus—your father gave up on the idea of renovating this into a study years ago. You really don't have to clean this place out."
"I'm not... mrmfffgh..." Twilight Sparkle's muscles tensed as she shoved a twin-sized bed across the floor so she could have greater access to a narrow closet. "I-I'm not cl-cleaning it out!" The princess sweated lightly in the noonday light wafting through the window to her foalhood bedroom—tinged with the ethereal blue color of Canterlot spires surrounding the apartment. Despite the stuffiness and dust of the mostly-abandoned sleeping quarters, the air felt cool, crisp, and invigorating. Then again, it always felt that way when Twilight visited her parents' home. She smiled at her mother in the doorway. "I just felt like going through a few old things. That's all!"
The mare leaned casually against the wall as she gazed at her daughter. "Is your royal lifestyle in Ponyville making you nostalgic all of a sudden?" She cocked an eyebrow. "You know, when I started writing, I began thinking about where I grew up all the time."
"Yes, but Mom..." Twilight slid a closet door open and squinted into the dark confines within. "...you work at home. Me?" A violet eye darted between them. "I moved out for a variety of reasons. First to Princess Celestia's School and then to Ponyville. Can you blame me for wanting to retrace my trots for once?"
"There are many reasons for wanting to go back in time," her mother said. "Intellectual curiosity. Emotional needs..." She gulped. "Are... are you feeling sad in that shiny castle of yours, dear?"
"Mom..." Twilight fought the urge to roll her eyes. She channeled the energy into a sly grin. "I'm fine. Things in Ponyville couldn't be better. Same with Equestria, for that matter."
"And... with you?"
"You kidding me? This is the first time I got to hang out here with you and Dad in ages!" A slight giggle escaped Twilight's muzzle as she slid aside a dangling forest of long-outworn dresses. "I've been looking forward to this week all year long."
"Well, so long as you don't spend all of this visit rummaging through your old room! Your father's been dying to show you the Southern Equestrian Cryptid Exhibit they have at the Starswirl Museum."
"Heehee... yeah. I know. He's been writing me endlessly about it." Twilight glanced up from where she squatted. "I won't be long. I promise."
"I'll hold you to it." Her mother winked, trotting off. "Supper will be ready in about half-an-hour. Better hurry. You don't want Spike eating all the seconds."
"Heh... I doubt I'll be hungry for what you've made for the little guy."
"Stranger things have happened to our children."
"Heh. Good point." And Twilight was alone.
With her mother gone, she took a deep breath—strengthening herself for a thorough dive into the past. She stuck her forelimbs fetlock-deep into the closet, brushing aside a few blankets that had been unceremoniously dumped into the depths of the compartment an untold century ago. The fabric had been stationary for so long that the folds had molded into permanent seams that no amount of washing or ironing could fix. Twilight had always been a fastidious filly—and she knew it. Tracing rusty thoughts in her head, she concluded that the only event that could have necessitated such a slovenly discarding of material was the very day that she hurriedly prepared for her official move to the Golden Oaks Library in Ponyville following the redemption of Princess Luna. Celestia had given her a new project: to study friendship in the Heart of Equestria. Twilight could still taste the sugary enthusiasm of that "brand new" lesson plan in her mouth—even so many years past the actual move, and it marveled her that it had been that long since she last bothered to scour the lengths of her former dwelling.
Who was to know what ancient relics she might discover deeper than that...?
Twilight brushed aside a fallen skirt and blouse, and that's when she found it: a monolothic stack of transparent containers full of books, papers, and more books. They sat against the back wall and corner of the closet like some plastic dam, populated with dust bunnies along the upper battlements.
As it turned out, filly Twilight was a great deal more fastidious than she thought.
With elevated interest, Twilight opened the top left drawer and cradled the plastic shelf in her telekinetic grasp. The first thing she saw made her giggle: it was a stack of photos—on top of which rested an image taken on Nightmare Night over a decade ago. It was the same year that the first Daring Do novel was released, and Twilight could tell from the beige adventure gear and pith helmet adorning her younger, puny self as she stood on the front stoop of her family's apartment. What made the image so priceless was just how damn serious the little unicorn's face looked. Obviously, Twilight's penchant for gleaning tone from a literary narrative would change dramatically over time... among other things.
She flipped through more photos. Aside from maybe Shining or her parents, she was alone in each of the shots. This didn't surprise her—or upset her. A mirthful crossed her muzzle as she pulled out a second drawer. There—she found dozens upon dozens of star charts... all of which Twilight had forgotten about. She forgot about them because they were fictional. At the age of seven, Twilight had studied and mapped all of the constellations known to Equestrian astronomy. So—in a fit of frustrated curiosity—the little filly set about creating a countless assortment of night skies. Her own skies... each with nebulae and galaxies and starry dust that would make even the most learned Canterlot scientist proud. The universe was simply too small to possibly ascertai it all, so a very young Twilight made it her task to expand it—even if nopony would notice. Nopony... but her older self several dusty years ago. She continued to smile.
Rarity and Fluttershy would be amused by this, Twilight thought, and so she set the star charts on the floor beside her as the first units of a "take home" pile. As she opened the fourth drawer, she could already tell from the texture of the book bindings within what she was about to find. The covers instantly stimulated memories that were long-dormant in Twilight's mind, and the contents within swam to the surface faster than she could open the tomes' pages. These were year books from Twilight's Second, Third, and Fourth Grades at Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns. The photographs inside were black and white—something she had forgotten. Her childhood was a rainbow cornucopia of random events, as far as Twilight was concerned. Nevertheless, it didn't stop her from poring through the pages regardless... retreading each face and muzzle and tooth-braced smile with an occasional gasp, giggle, and thoughtful exhale.
At one point, she saw her own face, dull and serious and framed by glasses. Twilight was confused for two reasons: she could have sworn her class photo was several pages later, and she never had to wear glasses as a foal. Then—in a fit of hilarious epiphany—she realized she was looking at Moondancer's photo. The monochromatic nature of the image threw her off, or at least it was an acceptable excuse. Soon she smiled—overwhelmed by how strangely similar the two of them were: her and her past friend.
Past friend. Twilight sighed—but it was a warm breath, secure in the knowledge that she had successfully bridged the gap between herself and Moondancer in recent months. It was a delightfully sobering thing to know that the path of one's life wasn't quite as broken as it used to be.
And then, just as Twilight was about to close the book—and thereby seal the black-and-white faces for another decade—a piece of paper slid out. There was a yellowing hue to it, a tell-tale necrosis of age. And yet, despite the unwitnessed metamorphosis, there was something about the perfectly rectangular piece of parchment that startled her with its familiarity. And when her eyes darted towards it and she saw the broken red seal resting on one half of the envelope—like a crimson crescent—her heart froze in place. The rest of her body remained stagnant along with it.
Twilight sat for a minute or two. Dust settled all around her while something flooded on the inside. Once the pool had staked its claim of her consciousness, she came up for air... and finally... finally reached out to pick the envelope up from the floor. Rather than torturously stay the dagger, she popped the envelope open and slid the folded paper violently out. Spreading it open, she allowed her eyes to scan the words contained thereupon.
She didn't cry. She didn't shudder. She was still as a statue. There was no tremor to struggle with because the realization of the discovery had already formed a solid foundation deep within Twilight, steadying her for this moment... for this transitive reenactment of shame, confusion, anxiety and—yes—even anger. There was a spark in her eye—a fantastical reflection of something that was long lost... or supposedly lost. Something dreamt of, but never grasped, even if Twilight had stopped searching ages ago. An enormous void opened up—and just as swiftly it was filled to the brim. Cemented up and cooled before the framework could melt. For years, she had pondered more tears than she had the faculty to give, but at this very moment—the peace of mind almost startled her... even if it could only produce a soft breath at best:
"Funny..."
And she remained sitting there, reliving the emotions less and less with each second... each second that the warm waves of the present overwashed the depths of the past. And once the waters had become placid, she stood up—with the envelope—and left the dust and delirium of that room.
She wandered a bit. Her parents' apartment was always big... bigger than she was willing to admit to her friends, for fear of being perceived as boasting. Becoming a princess was a spectacular thing, but Twilight was no stranger to affluence. It was a far greater and more invigorating challenge to pursue humility in all its forms—something that she once struggled with. As she felt the contours of the letter floating in her telekinetic grasp, she tried to perceive the filly she once was... and it bothered her to think that she ever once perceived herself as being at the peak of her academic and magical potential. Perhaps there was a reason why the past was so difficult to salvage from the decay of time. What she once was—what she could have been—was of no greater use than a crackling cocoon to a butterfly.
Her pondering—as well as her trotting—eventually brought her to the spacious living room of her parents' home. There she found Spike, lounging on the sofa beside the balcony window. He balanced a bowl of gemstones on his plump belly and was elbow-deep into dragging more crystalline morsels into his ravenous maw.
"Mrmmmfff..." Spike chomped. Spike drooled. Spike smiled thinly upon Twilight's arrival. "This is the life, isn't it? I mean... sure... royal castles... lavish gifts from visiting delegates..." He took another loud bite; the crunching of sharp teeth echoed against the well-furnished walls of the apartment. "But give me your Mom's Gravel Sprinkled Sapphire Surprise any day! Mmmrmmfff..." Another crunch. Another satisfied sigh. "You been doing laundry, Twilight? Looks like your mane's done battle with the lint tray."
"I've been..." Twilight sat in a slight daze. She found a cushion across from Spike and sat down, looking past him, reflecting the sunlight over Canterlot in a solid sheen. "...going through my room."
"Yeah. Uh huh. Say!" Spike leaned forward, almost knocking the bowl of gemstones over. "Can we go visit Minuette and Lemon Hearts tomorrow?" He beamed from spine to spine. "They took photos from the Dragon Exhibit at Starswirl's Museum last month. I wanna see how hard those awful animatronics make me laugh. Haah haah haah!!! Ahem... how was that? You see, I've been practicing."
"It's very nice, Spike." Twilight cleared her throat. "Very convincing." Then, with two flicks of her horn, she levitated the yellow'd sheet of paper over towards him. "Take a look at this."
"Hmmm?" Spike's slitted eyes squinted. He took the item between two purple claws. "What is it?"
Twilight said nothing. She just sat in patient silence.
Spike had hung out with Twilight all his young dragon life; he knew how to read her cues. "Not much of an essay. Just one page?" He looked closer at the title: "'The Difference Between Comets and Meteors.'" His eyes darted across the room to Twilight. "Lemme guess, Magic Kindergarten?"
Twilight nodded. "Look again."
"Look for what?" Spike did so, regardless. His green eyes twitched. "Whoah. A B-Minus. Heh..." A cruel smirk crossed his scaled lips. "No wonder you had this hidden away for so long."
Twilight took a deep, deep breath. "It's the grade, Spike."
"What's that supposed to mean, Twilight?" he asked in a droning tone.
"...it's the grade." She stared at him for the first time since arriving. "The B-Minus that I kept talking about when I... when you were just a baby dragon."
Spike searched... searched... and then his spines shot up. "Oh. That? That is this?"
Twilight cocked her head aside. "So you remember me talking about it?"
"Heh... you bet I do!" Spike scratched his purple scalp as he looked once again at the paper in his grasp. "I mean... I do now. Sometimes—as we sat stargazing or we were getting ready for bed—you'd be talking nonstop... complaining and crying about this horrible paper you did in Magic Kindergarten. I used to think it was really weird. I mean... with each passing year, Magic Kindergarten seemed so far away in the past, and yet you'd still be rambling on about how you could have done better or whatnot. I think you even cried about it once the first month we were in Ponyville." He waved the paper again. "You mean this is it? This B-Minus one-page thingy about shooting stars is what gave you so much grief?"
"That's it, Spike."
"Twilight... it's..." He chuckled out the side of his mouth, slapping the written words with a soft wrist. "Sure, it's not perfect... but it's not horrible either! I mean... for a kindergartener, that is... kindergartener you."
"Spike, I'm no longer bothered by the grade I got."
"You aren't?"
She slowly shook her head. "No."
"Then... then what's the big deal." He shrugged. "Why pull it out of your room and blow the dust off?"
"I didn't even realize I was searching for it," Twilight said. "But when I saw it after all these years..." She went silent, turning to gaze out the balcony window.
Spike took a breath, simply waiting.
Eventually, Twilight resumed speaking, her voice calm... if not a little bit scratchy: "You and I both know how anxious I used to get... how anxious I do get over underperforming. But that? That was my first sub-par grade, Spike. And it was more than a simple B-Minus. That essay? It was part of an academic competition taking place that year. There were... six different kindergarten classes at Canterlot Elementary... if I recall right. And each classroom was assigned the same astronomy essay to write. Only those who got the top grades in their class—six ponies—would be eligible for an extra special field trip as a reward for their performance. It was the one and only way that any public school students could attend the event"
"Wait..." Spike leaned his head to the side. "I... I think I remember this! It was a field trip to Rainbow Falls—"
"—to watch the arrival of Clover's Comet right after sunset. Rainbow Falls was the only spot high enough in Equestria for living ponies to see the comet in any real clarity." Twilight breathed in deeply. "Such an event happens only once in a lifetime, Spike. You... me... our friends? We'll all be long dead before Clover's Comet gets to streak through the sky once again."
"Yeahhhhhhh... now it's all coming back to me." Spike smiled in spite of the memory. "You really did beat yourself up for years about that, didn't you?"
"I had one chance, Spike. One chance to see the astronomical event of a lifetime... and I failed."
"You were also just a foal. I mean... pffft... if you ask me, it all came down to luck... cruel, cruel luck. I mean... somepony had to grade these, right? Basically... heh... the teachers at your old elementary school were the ones who decided who got to go on the field trip."
"Mom and Dad couldn't take me to Rainbow Falls on their own," Twilight muttered. "We simply didn't have the transportation to make it happen at the time. I missed out on it... and the fact of the matter devastated me." She sighed. "Every day through foalhood, I thought about it... and each thought was full of regret. I used..." She snorted slightly. "For years, I used to have dreams that I had somehow gotten thrown back in time so I could stand there with the other students and watch Clover's Comet in all its glory."
"But... you're not bothered about it anymore..." Spike leaned forward. "...right, Twilight?"
She shook her head. "No. Not really."
"Then..." Spike glanced at the paper. "...what's the problem?"
"It's not a problem," Twilight said. "Not anymore."
Spike merely stared at her.
She turned towards him, her bookwormish frame illuminated by the afternoon glow beyond the balcony. "For most of my foalhood—even my young adult life—I felt nothing but shame and regret over that essay... and how poorly I performed at writing it."
"Or how poorly it was graded," Spike offered.
Twilight nevertheless continued: "It used to hang over me like a cloud... like I was a failure... like nothing I'd ever accomplish—in and out of school—could ever make up for the cost of missing Clover's Comet."
"Holy Guacamole, Twilight!" Spike exclaimed. "Then again... you are you."
"It's part of why I studied so hard... and remained so... so dedicated to my work. I didn't enjoy leisure time. I didn't make friends. For so long... I punished myself... as if I didn't deserve to be anything but miserable for my shortcomings."
"Then... what's the point of dwelling on it?" Spike shrugged. "You stopped talking about the paper a while back. I figured you were finally over it."
"That's because my life got a lot more complicated... and happy, Spike," Twilight said, her muzzle slightly curving upwards. "But... it's more than that. Something I realized a while back... but only now do I fully grasp it. Seeing that essay again after so many years of being locked away has... made it all so very real for me, I suppose."
"And what's that, Twilight?"
Twilight gestured. "The week of Clover's Comet, I... locked myself up in my room. I didn't want to see anyone—not even Shining or my parents. I just wanted to crawl into a tiny little ball in my bed and stay there forever. I was already such a heavy introvert—always shutting myself in the house and refusing to see sunlight. Well... dad talked me out of it. I'm not sure how he did, but he convinced me to go and attend something else that was happening that very same week. He said it would 'brighten my day' like nothing else I had ever seen."
"Just what was it?" Spike asked.
She glanced his way. "The Summer Sun Celebration."
Spike blinked. "The first time you saw Princess Celestia raise the sun?" He blinked again. "That was the same week as Clover's Comet?"
Twilight nodded. "And dad was right. Seeing Princess Celestia raise the sun... changed me. It filled me with a thirst for magic like I had never felt before. For a moment—at least—I had forgotten all about the essay I wrote. In place of all that sorrow and regret, I had found a new obsession. It wouldn't drown out the shame forever... but it did give me something new and exciting to pursue. I studied harder than I ever had before, desperate to prove myself as worthy of applying to Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns. Finally, after I graduated from First Grade—and an entire summer of intense lesson courses—I was selected to perform an entrance exam before the school faculty."
Spike rubbed his shoulder with his other arm. "My egg..."
"I met you, Spike," Twilight said in a warm voice. "And—soon after—I met Princess Celestia. I became her star pupil. I moved into the Royal Palace... studied from Starswirl's very scrolls while trotting the grounds of the Royal Gardens." She gazed out the balcony window. "As Celestia's Magical Apprentice, I was chosen to visit Ponyville to help them prepare for the Summer Sun Celebration. I met Pinkie Pie... Applejack... Rainbow Dash and Rarity and Fluttershy." Her ears twitched and her feather-tips fluttered. "Together, we used the Elements of Harmony to free Princess Luna... to defeat Discord... to free the Crystal Empire from Sombra and to protect Equestria from Tirek."
"And... Starlight Glimmer helped Thorax stop Chrysalis," Spike said. "She'd never have been in the right mind to do that unless—"
"You get it, don't you, Spike?" Twilight remarked. "All of the friends I've made... all of the adventures I've had... all of the friendship lessons I've learned... and... and..." She flexed and unflexed her alicorn wings, ultimately sighing. "If I had actually gotten the highest grade that I wanted on that essay, I would have been sent on that field trip to Rainbow Falls the very same week that Princess Celestia raised the sun here in Canterlot. My dad would never have talked me into attending the Ceremony. I would never have been inspired to join Celestia's School. I would never have met you or the girls or... or anypony." She gulped. "I would never have truly lived... like I do now."
"You... you never know, Twilight." Spike shrugged. "Maybe you would have done all of those things anyway—"
"Spike, if there's any indomitable truth that I've learned, it's that life is far too miraculously precious to assume it was always meant to go in one way and one way alone. Imagine... just imagine what would have happened if I had written an extra competent paragraph to that essay... or if one tiny factor or another would have changed the penstroke of the teacher who graded that paper... or if my father hadn't put the extra effort into coaxing me out of my room... or if the Summer Sun Celebration was scheduled for Manehattan instead of Canterlot... or if Clover's Comet would have streaked by at midnight so I could still have seen it from our home like I wanted to and gotten the catharsis that I thought I wanted... that I thought I needed... only to instead suffer so much shame and regret throughout the following years... but then to be rewarded by a better fate... a fate that I could never have calculated, but now fully... and humbly enjoy..."
Spike had no response to that. He simply leaned back on the sofa, scratching his chin.
"You remember how Moondancer was living when we reunited with her, right?" Twilight took a shuddering breath. "All those years wallowing in unnecessary solitude and lonesomeness." She gulped. "We're a lot like each other. We always were. In a lot of ways, Spike, Moondancer is the me I could have been if I never strove to learn so much about friendship." She looked over. "You know—Sunset Shimmer writes me constantly about the Twilight Sparkle from the mirror world. Did you know that she and that world's Spike were spending their free time locked up in a high school boiler room, spending every aching hour on studies and no time whatsoever on friendship? She was constantly harrassed by bullies and cold-hearted humans. She didn't know the same joy and mirth I did... not until just recently."
Spike shrugged. "You were just more ambitious than the others, Twilight."
"Perhaps, Spike," Twilight said. "But... perhaps... 'lucky' is the better word for it in the end." She reached out with her magic.
Spike released his grip of the yellow page, and it floated towards the mare.
Twilight levitated before her, gazing—but no longer searching. "Funny..." She said. "...that the same things we hate and regret also sculpt what we love and cherish. Every little thing I despise about myself today might become treasures tomorrow."
"Soooooooo..." Spike twiddled his claws. "...what you're saying is... I shouldn't feel so bad about eating three bowls of your mother's gemstones today because it just might turn me into a handsome hunk of scales several years from now?"
Twilight looked at him. She smiled. Setting the paper aside, she crossed the distance between them. "One thing's for certain, Spike..." With a wing, she drew him into a tender hug. "...I am so... so very glad that I have you by my side today."
"Ughhhh... Twilight..." Spike rolled his eyes, although he was hard-pressed to wriggle out of her embrace. "Lay it on thick, will ya?"
"Heeheehee..." Her giggles christened them in the crisp Canterlot air. "I mean it."
"I know you do." He stuck out a forked tongue before allowing her to nuzzle him. "Doesn't make it any less sappy."
"So sue me."
