Twilight Spun...

by Starscribe

Rating: teen
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, Sad, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Starlight Glimmer, Random
Length: 4221

Twilight Sparkle didn't consider what might happen when she used an "Object Possession" spell to check on her student. Now she has to live with the consequences. Forever.

Twilight Sparkle didn't think much of the spell at the time. Using her student's music box to keep an eye on her seemed like an excellent idea! There was just one problem: she couldn't change back.

A darker take on the events of S.7 E.10, so probably watch that first. Fantastic cover by Zutcha, who has a perfect record.

Published 2017-06-10 19:50:06 UTC
Last updated 2017-06-10 19:50:06 UTC

...Around and Around...

Twilight spun.

She'd been spinning for a long time now—hours? It felt like hours. There was a clock in her room, and she could hear the ticking as it echoed. Unfortunately it was facing away from her, so she had no way of knowing how long she'd been here. Was Starlight's insane plan to help Celestia and Luna working? She could only hope so—for the sake of all Equestria. She told herself this was why she hadn't yet cast the spell to return to her real body, asleep even now in her castle back in Ponyville. She told herself that, and she almost believed it.

Not that she minded the music. It wasn't just coming from nearby, as Starlight might've thought. In many ways it was Twilight, as much as the spinning, pony-shaped ballerina with her face was Twilight. She could feel every inch of the music box as though it were her own body. Knew every amethyst gemstone set into the sides, all four. The mother-of-pearl and gold trim were her skin too, as well as the spring mechanism that allowed the ballerina to emerge from within and spin while gears and clockwork played music.

She was thankful the possession spell allowed her complete control of the object's ordinary function, or else it might've wound down with her facing a wall, unable to see anything but paper and not able to offer her student useful advice.

The dancing was nice—the music was soothing, melodic, reverberating through her hollow wooden body, echoing through the room. She didn't mind that her natural position was such a tense pose, or at least it would've been for a living pony. But for Twilight it was her natural resting position, and so she could relax balanced on one hoof and spin, smiling contentedly to herself even if she did not feel content.

She told herself it was because Equestria was in danger. Luna and Celestia had struggled with their relationship before, and Equestria had suffered for it. Why had the map chosen Starlight instead of her? Twilight's head might be going a little fuzzy right now, but she was quite certain that she wouldn't have done something as stupid as switching the Diarch's cutie marks.

A maid came in. The whole world felt like it was suddenly back in-focus again, and Twilight could think straight. The ticking of the clock stopped blurring together and resolved into the steady flow of seconds again. Unfortunately she had to use her new lucidity to hold perfectly still (at least with the ballerina) and pretend that she was an ordinary music box. It wasn't as hard as it would've been for a living pony at least. Her body wasn't alive, didn't need to breathe, didn't have muscles to twitch or wings that got cramped if she didn't flex every now and then to get the stiffness out.

The maid spared her a glance as she passed over Starlight's desk, and for a second Twilight felt a few feathers pass over her body. She kept spinning, ignoring the sensation, her smile a little more genuine as the maid hesitated to appreciate Twilight's craftsmanship. When she left, the maid was humming quietly to herself to Twilight's melody.

Time blurred a little after that. Occasionally someone would walk past the hallway outside, startling Twilight out of her melodic reverie. More often than not she was alone, alone with her own thoughts, and the worry she had over her student's success. I hope she's okay. I hope Equestria's okay with what she did. If something went wrong, it was Twilight and her friends who would have to fix it, somehow. That's usually how those things worked out.

She could hear voices coming from down the hall, and she hesitated in her spinning to listen. One of them sounded like Starlight Glimmer. The other one was familiar too, though she couldn't place exactly who. Thank goodness. Twilight thought to herself. She sounds like she's a little tired, but not like she's guilty she just broke Equestria or something. It's all going to be fine. Twilight froze in place, preparing to hide herself from whoever Starlight Glimmer's guest would be. One more conversation, then she could teleport back over here for real with some sort of excuse or another. Maybe she could bring spare quills, or a manebrush—any pretext would do.

Starlight Glimmer came in, and Twilight almost didn't recognize the pony who was walking along beside her. Didn't recognize her, because she couldn't believe what she was seeing. The lavender Alicorn was, of course, herself.

"Now I need you to tell me everything," Twilight was saying, levitating a scroll and a quill in the air behind them. "Even the smallest detail might be important. I want to keep good records of every mission the map sends us on, so we can figure out how it works."

"You already know most of it," Starlight said, pointing over her shoulder at Twilight, still frozen on the music box. "You transformed my music box, remember?" She sounded annoyed, worn-out, and for once Twilight found it difficult to care.

"Oh, this?" said the gigantic copy of herself, striding over. Her hoofsteps shook the ground, like with every other pony. She walked right up, extending one hoof towards Twilight. "I didn't actually—"

Twilight realized what was about to happen a split second before it did, and she called out in fear and pain. "Wait, don't!" but not fast enough, or loud enough for them to notice. A gigantic hoof pressed down on her, a hoof with familiar contours, a hoof she knew as well as she knew anything in the world, and Twilight was pressed flat against the mirrored floor she'd been dancing on, immobile as it rotated around her and the sky vanished from above. Now her eyes were inside, pressed up against the gears and wheels of the music box, and she was powerless to move.

Well, not completely. The music box couldn't spin in this position, the ballerina couldn't dance, and only a lock from the outside would open the music-box again. But she could still move her hollow balsa-wood body, pounding on the mirrored surface of the "floor". "Wait!" she called, her voice seeming so tiny and feeble in her little wooden cell. "Let me out!"

She tried to dispel the possession. Tried to teleport out, tried to levitate the lock open, anything. She kept banging on the floor that was now the ceiling, but she was only hitting herself, and the pain soon overwhelmed her.

Worst of all, she could still hear her own voice from outside, so big and far away. "I couldn't get it to work. I think the transfiguration part must've done something, since it looked like me, but... I couldn't get the possession part working."

"You must have a pretty high standard for working," Starlight said, sounding even more annoyed by the second. "Because you talked to me. You weren't very helpful, though."

"Really?" Twilight felt herself lifted into the air—all of herself, though she couldn't actually see outside. Only a few cracks of light made it past the top of the music box, made to keep the delicate ballerina from being accidentally damaged when she wasn't being used. "That's weird. I wonder if... maybe my intention got through and kept it moving? Like a come to life spell?"

"No," she whimpered, still trapped inside. It hurt too much to struggle, and apparently her voice was too small to hear, but Twilight moaned anyway. "Not like that. I'm still in here!"

"Could be," Starlight grunted. "I'm going to bed. You can figure it out."

"Or!" big Twilight said, sounding so cheerful it hurt. "Now that you're done with the map's assignment, you're ready for another one from me. Magical research assignment, yay!"

Twilight felt herself falling again, though only for a split-second. Magic caught onto her again, though the aura was slightly different, less familiar. Starlight's magic.

"Sure," said a tired voice from outside.

She went tumbling suddenly through the air, and Twilight screamed, screamed with all the fear left in her terrified little body. If Starlight had dropped her...

But no, a second later she landed on something soft—the bed maybe, or the inside of Starlight's suitcase. Twilight couldn't tell, since she didn't have eyes. She could see when the last light from above her was covered up, feel cloth or fabric piled on top of her, muffling the voices from outside.

"I'll get right on that." Starlight said, very faint and far away.

Twilight heard a zipper, then absolute darkness descended, trapping her.

...Never Stopping...

Time ceased to have any meaning for Twilight. She couldn't escape from her prison, though more than once she tried her horn again. Not even a simple light spell would work for her, despite her greatest concentration. Deep down she knew exactly why it wasn't working, though it was too painful to admit to herself outright. She couldn't cast spells because she didn't have a horn, only a hollow body of painted wood, precious stones, and some metal. Music boxes couldn't perform spells—her very consciousness was itself a spell.

Once she felt the world around her move, though the change came so suddenly that she hardly noticed it. She didn't see anything, didn't really hear anything either. Wherever she'd been placed, it was packed in too tightly to make out anything of the world beyond.

In time the disorientation from having part of her be upside-down within another part began to fade. There wasn't anyone to talk to, and so she rarely bothered. Besides—the longer she spent in the dark, the more blurred everything got. It was like time itself sped up when there wasn't anyone around for her to interact with. It was too much effort to move her little wooden body, for all the good it would've done her anyway. It was almost too much effort to think.

Eventually the featureless blur of time resolved itself, and Twilight snapped back to herself. The world was moving again, and she could make out a fraction of light streaming through her outer shell to the place her painted wooden eyes could see. Magic held her again, as it had done before, and the longer she spent near it the more clearly she could think.

This was not a blessing. I'm not alive, she found herself thinking, the same constant mantra. The real Twilight made me by accident. She made me to serve a single purpose, and I couldn't even do that. Shining Armor isn't my brother, my friends aren't my friends. Celestia isn't my teacher. I'm just... a thing.

She felt a familiar metal object within her, a part of herself that had been missing and was now returned. Twilight no longer wanted to respond to whoever was out there, but she didn't have a choice. Just as the locking mechanism had trapped her within, when unlocked she was forced to emerge. The springs and gears that were her guts hadn't rusted or covered-over with age in the time she'd been locked away, and they all moved now. Her protective lid rotated around, even as the ballerina rose onto its hoof, balancing in perfect poise as she spun around to the music.

She was sitting on Starlight's desk, and the wood made for a slight echo to the familiar melody. Much of the room had changed—the furniture no longer looked like a hasty collection of whatever Twilight had been able to find in spare-rooms. Where a wall had been the room now continued further, making way for the crystal shelves and massive workspace that it contained. Only this one desk remained the same.

Above her, far above, Starlight Glimmer's massive face had a few more lines, the colors in her mane a little faded. Her expression softened a little as she watched Twilight dance, though the "dance" was really just spinning and the melody was exactly the same as before.

Twilight didn't move beyond what the motor and the music compelled her. She could think again if she wanted, move her "body" the way she wanted... but she didn't see a point. Maybe, if she just pretended to be nothing, Starlight would forget about her. She'd go back into a box somewhere, where she could be welcomed back into oblivion. The spell has to wear off eventually.

"I never got around to investigating you..." Starlight said, her voice wistful and sad. "I wonder if I imagined the whole thing. Guess I'll never know now, will I?"

Twilight kept spinning.

Starlight leaned over her, close enough that Twilight could feel her hot breath. "I was imagining it, wasn't I? You aren't actually alive?"

Twilight kept spinning.

"Shame." Starlight sighed. "I shouldn't have forgotten about you. Maybe the spell wouldn't have worn off if it hadn't been locked away in a box all these years." She stared a few moments longer, as if making absolutely certain that Twilight wasn't about to speak.

She almost did—probably would have, if it weren't for the relief that seemed so close. She can't change me back, I was never anything else. I'm just a spell possessing a music box.

"But... if it did wear off... why do you still look like Twilight?" Starlight leaned even closer, sniffing at her. "Unless it was greater transfiguration. Alicorn magic sure is impressive, isn't it?"

"I wish it wasn't," Twilight said, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Then maybe I wouldn't be here."

Starlight recoiled, looking down in shock and surprise. "You didn't just..."

Twilight looked down, slumping to the reflective ground that had been the ceiling of her prison not long ago. She stopped spinning, stopped making music. "I did."

"But..." Starlight stammered, staring openly at her now. She levitated over a pair of spectacles from the desk beside Twilight, and that seemed to help. "You've been in storage forever! Spells don't last that long."

"Maybe someone had the key," Twilight muttered, glum. "That might've been enough magic to keep the spell around. It's all together, so... if one part had a source of magic..."

"Stop." Starlight shook her head vigorously. "You can't be doing things like this! You're a come-to-life spell! Twilight made you to give me encouragement! You can't know—"

"Everything." Twilight couldn't fight the spring any longer—she returned to her posed position, though she wasn't smiling. "I remember everything. Until the spell. That's when..." She swallowed. "That's when I was created, so my memories diverge from the real Twilight."

"Loving Cadance, I almost sent you off to charity..." Starlight shuddered. "What should I do? We could go to Canterlot Castle, have the princess undo the..." She trailed off. "But that would be..." She stopped, staring down at her for a long, quiet moment. "Are you... alive, Twilight? The way you're acting... it wouldn't be right to just end the spell."

"I've done it before," she said. "Look up the mirror pool. I ended those spells, and they acted alive. Maybe they were, too. More alive than me." She started spinning again, and found the motion strangely soothing. She started the music back up too, and it was easy to get lost in the simple melody, repeating over and over. Maybe she could just forget about everything. Forget about the fear, the life she could never have...

"I'm sorry, Twilight," Starlight Glimmer said. "I don't know how to help you. But maybe there's a pony who does. Just to be safe..." She felt a gigantic hoof again, pushing her gently sideways. Twilight was powerless to resist as the lock clicked back into place, the music stopped, and the light was taken away again. "I'll hide you somewhere. Until somepony can help you."

This time, she didn't even have the will to scream.

Author's Note

So I felt a little inspired, and I added this and one more chapter. Now it's complete for real, honest!

...Forever

If there was one mercy in being shoved into storage, it was the way time quickly ceased to matter to her. It wasn't dying exactly, at least not as Twilight had read or theorized about death, but at least it meant she didn't have to think as much. Didn't have to think about the friends she wasn't seeing, about the lives they were having without her. Starlight Glimmer had looked so much older last time, suggesting to Twilight that she'd been locked away in storage much longer than it had seemed. Her friends were probably all married by now, living with their partners. Some might have foals. Would Spike be okay without her?

Of course he will, stupid. He still has you.

So maybe it wasn't much of a mercy after all.

The longer she waited in the dark, the more she hoped that maybe, just maybe, she would never be found. Even powerful spells had an end, and there was nopony around to keep this one going. Her perceptions could get slower and slower until one day, they'd stop completely. Even if Twilight had ever believed in abstractions like the soul, she had no fear she might have one. That was real Twilight's problem—she could sleep in peace.

But then, as had happened before, she felt motion in the world above. Heard the sound of boxes being moved, then someone cutting. Fabric shifted, and light peeked in from above the lid of her music box. The whole range of Twilight's emotional experience came rushing back to her. Somepony turned the key, and again she emerged into the world, to spin slowly around to an endlessly-repeated tune.

It wasn't Starlight Glimmer outside, but a pony she didn't recognize. A unicorn with a light pink coat, pale patches on his hooves, and an orangish mane and tail with a few bluish streaks.

The desk around Twilight was littered with books and diagrams, the unfinished workings of many spells. The room beyond the desk grew dark and blurry, suggesting it was underground somewhere, or that it was night outside.

Even as Twilight rotated around, she found her eyes drawn to each one, studying them as she had studied so many spells before. Not me. The real Twilight studied spells. I've never even seen one of these diagrams before. But just because that statement was objectively true didn't mean it felt true to her. It also didn't make the spells any less interesting.

"I'm not sure..." the stallion began. He was young, perhaps Twilight's own age the day she'd arrived in Ponyville. "I'm not sure if you can really hear me. My grandmother's wishes were... somewhat confusing, and now I can't ask her to clarify." He looked down, squinting through thin lenses at her. "Are you alive? Well, no you're not. But are you conscious?"

Twilight kept spinning. She had a choice before her now, the same choice she'd faced before. If she stayed quiet, perhaps she would be sold off, which would condemn her to a life as somepony's music box. Or, maybe the stallion would just throw her away. On the other hand, if she told him the truth, perhaps the hopelessness of her situation would defeat him as it had apparently beaten his grandmother.

"Yes," she said, stopping her spin again. It took a little willpower, as it always did. She was supposed to play music, she was supposed to dance. Not doing those things made her feel a little guilty. She stopped anyway. "Regrettably."

The stallion withdrew, eyes widening. "You sound just like the princess! Well... maybe not quite the same. Younger, maybe... but similar. Guess that makes sense... you look like some of the paintings."

"I would," she said. "I created—Twilight created me using a greater possession spell. I was so eager to check on Starlight I didn't... she didn't read all the fine print. I guess I'm the result. Starlight Glimmer said she was going to help me... that didn't work out?"

"No," he said, staring at the floor. "She regretted it, though. Did a little research, when she could, but... Equestria was always getting into trouble back then. She didn't really have a lot of time to devote to 'saving' a music box. Sorry, that... that probably came out wrong."

"I don't think it did." Twilight slumped back into her natural position, which meant she started spinning again. The music resumed, though at a slower tempo than usual. It was the most she could do to affect how it sounded. Unfortunately, the melody was still infuriatingly upbeat. "So who are you? Her... grandson?"

"Stellar Glow," he agreed. "The only one who cared about.. well mostly it was my grandfather who got me interested in the esoteric aspects of magical research, but Starlight was always the one to show me how they worked. When she passed, uh..." He held up a note. "This was in her things, along with you. Guess she... hoped I'd figure out how to bring you to life." He laughed, looking away. "Guess it goes to show just how useless I am. My sisters and cousins are off doing important things for Equestria, but... here I am in her old lab. Talking to a music box."

She didn't say anything to that. Even knowing she wasn't real, knowing that the rest of Equestria would come first, it still hurt to learn that Starlight had thought it was okay to lock her up in a box somewhere and forget about her. If there was any mercy in this, it was that her wooden body couldn't cry.

"A-anyway... she never figured out how to help you, but I think maybe she was approaching the problem the wrong way. Grandma Starlight always thought she had the answers on her own, and she had trouble asking others for help. You, uh... might remember that. Anyway, I'm not as clever as she was, but I don't think I have to be." He grinned down at her. "You are the Princess of Magic and Friendship! Starlight had you right here, and she never thought that your own skills might help in solving this! I'm thinking maybe you can help—" He collected all the papers scattered around her music box into a large stack, holding it up in front of her. "She experimented with a dozen different spells! One of them had to have some potential. Why don't you help me look through them, and when we find the right one... I could cast it! Or get you to cast it. The, uh... the real you, I mean."

Twilight stopped spinning again. She wanted to be furious, or angry, or many other different feelings. But she couldn't hold onto her anger when so much of her wanted to examine those spells. There's no way to make a spell into a living pony. But there might be another way…

A few years later...

Twilight spun—old habits were hard to break, and for her dancing was the deepest and most central tenet of her existence. She couldn't cast spells anymore, couldn't fly, but dancing to music at least brought her some old, familiar joy. More than that—looking up into the many faces at the Royal Canterlot Ballet, watching their awe at the movements she performed, that was an even deeper satisfaction. A possession spell was still an object, and objects were given life by their use, by the appreciation ponies had for them.

She wasn't trapped in a music box anymore, nor was she only a few inches tall. But underneath the spells and the illusions, Twilight was still made of wood. Wood now painted a lighter purple than before, with a mane in five different shades—her memory to the friends who had never even known she missed them before they died. She got rid of the horn and wings too, in her transformation, since either one would suggest to other ponies abilities she did not have.

Twilight never got older, never had to retire like her fellow dancers. But that didn't matter—there was enough need for a skilled dancer and an actress in most big cities in Equestria.

When the show was over, she returned to her small apartment in the loft of the old civic library, to curl up in a soft round bed with a few good books, and enjoy some quiet reading in front of her window overlooking the brand new electric lights of the city.

It was not the life Twilight Sparkle had imagined for herself—not any life at all, really. Though her hollow body seemed alive to the ponies who saw her, it stayed that way only thanks to the crystals Stellar Glow had embeded there, back when she'd only been a few inches tall. Those spells required her to spend time with ponies to survive, soaking up the magic of their friendship as a music box is wound by a key. But she didn't really mind anymore.

The real Twilight Sparkle still didn't know about her, and if the fake one got her way, she never would.

Her life might not be real—her memories might be lies, her old friends had never even known she existed. But none of that mattered. The new friendships she made felt real. And for Twilight Sparkle, that was enough.