Night Light crept into his daughter's bedroom, levitating an extremely heavy bucket of paint in his magic.
Twilight's expectant stare greeted him. He blinked—shouldn't she have been asleep by now?—then tried to hide the bucket, which was wider than himself, behind his back. “Are you ready for your story, sweetheart?” he stammered, yanking a book from the bookcase behind him at random.
“Dad? What's that?” she asked, squinting at the bucket.
“It's, um....” He read the spine quickly. “Young Starswirl and the Maddening Minotaur?” He shook the book in an attempt to grab her attention, which he should have known would fail: it was a very large bucket. “Oh, that!” he said, trying to act as if he'd just noticed it. “That, well, I, uh... you know how your silly dad can be,” he stammered, placing it on the floor so it didn't slosh, “I forgot I was holding onto it.”
He had not forgotten he was holding onto it. Funny thing, he mused: the magic he was using came from his horn, and yet he was certain, beyond a doubt, that he'd be feeling this in his back in the morning. “Anyway,” he said, wrenching out a smile as he strained his ears, “are you ready to learn how Young Starswirl defeated the minotaurs?”
“He uses magic string to trick the minotaurs into getting lost in their own maze. I know that one! I want a new story!”
“We've exhausted a full bookcase, and you still know it by heart, huh?” Through his strained ears he heard muttering: had he said something important? “Okay, Twilight, you want a new story? How about the story of Young Starswirl, and the... uh, the Clown Sentry!”
He watched her mouth the last word, and explained, “A guardian. A protector. What your BBBFF wants to be when he grows up?”
“Oh!” She smiled, and snuggled into her blankets. “I haven't heard this one before!”
“Well, listen up, because it's the best one ever. Once upon a time, there was a genius young unicorn named Starswirl. Maybe one day he'd be called Starswirl the Bearded—” he fluffed up his chin-hair for effect “—but at this time he had barely any hair on him at all! But bearded or not, he was still a genius, and known throughout the land for it.”
Twilight's eyes were half-lidding over.
“And,” Night Light added, “that made a lot of people very afraid.”
Her eyes widened. This was new ground—for both of them.
“Not all were afraid. Starswirl had favor with the rulers, and they were very interested in him. But that meant other ponies were interested as well. They wanted to control him, to use him to get some of that favor for themselves: maybe even use his genius for their own selfish devices!”
“They were scared of a foal?” Twilight asked. “But he was so wise and good! And… they wanted to control him? They were scared of a foal?” She squinted. “I don’t get it.”
Night Light chuckled and ruffled her hair. “It’s okay if you don’t get it, Twily—but they were mean ponies. They felt he was too important, and powerful, and close to the rulers to ignore…. So these petty nobles were sticking their noses in where they should have stayed out.”
He raised his voice slightly for this part. The muttering seemed to stop: had he been on the nose enough? Twilight glanced at the window, her confusion obvious.
“But,” he said, “there were also good ponies, too. Like the rulers. 'He is just a child,' they said. 'He will need to be protected not only from harm, but from the appearance of harm. He deserves to live in comfort and quiet, like any other child,'” he yelled, just in case he hadn't been clear enough.
“Dad,” Twilight hissed, “Mom’ll get mad if you yell.”
“Sorry, sorry—I’m just.…” Night Light laughed a little, his ears flattening. “I’m very passionate about this story, you know?”
Twilight nodded once, and hard. Of course she would get that.
“So, Starswirl would need a guard. That much was clear. But just a normal guard wouldn't be enough to save the young colt's innocence: they needed somepony special.” An idea struck Night Light, and he turned around and stuck his hoof in the paint. “Somepony,” he said, wiping his face, “who could make him laugh and smile even in the worst of times. They needed—”
He turned around, face painted in white. “A clown!” he exclaimed.
Twilight flinched back in surprise. Then she laughed. It one hundred percent made it worth the hour he'd need to scrub this paint off.
“The clown showed up at Starswirl's door one day,” he said, and he pulled a face and put on a low, dopey tone of voice. “'Good mornin' to ya, young feller, I'm... Bright Glow the Clown. I see you're in need of clown-related services?' And he honked his big red nose—”
Night Light pushed his snout in with his hoof, but he hadn’t planned far enough ahead to bring an actual red nose. But he had a horn, didn’t he? He focused his magic, imagining a honk in his head—
A bicycle chime rang out. Well, this had never been his strong suit, but it made Twilight laugh anyway. Then she scrunched up her face, and set her horn aglow.
A sound like a foghorn, and about as loud, blasted out through the room. Night Light's ears rang as Twilight giggled uncontrollably at her own joke.
“Yes, yes,” Night Light mumbled, shaking his head to stop his ears ringing, “exactly that loud. And Starswirl laughed so hard at this that he went to his parents and begged them to let Bright Glow stay! And they let him. Especially once Bright Glow explained what he was really there to do.”
“Protect him from the evil nobles!” Twilight burst out.
“Exactly! So Bright Glow made Starswirl laugh, but also helped him with his magic studies, and whenever the nobles were around, he honked his big red nose—no, Twily, you don't have to do it again, I know how loud it is—until their ears were ringing so hard they ran away. And Starswirl never saw any of it, never guessed how much Bright Glow was protecting him.
“But one day, the nobles were fed up. They were gonna go too far. They were gonna kidnap Starswirl and force him to use his magic for them!”
Twilight gasped.
“But who do you think stopped them?”
“Bright Glow!” she called back, a perfect Trojan chorus.
“Bright Glow indeed! He saw them coming up to Starswirl's door, and do you know what he did? He took a bucket of paint, the paint he used to make his clown face so white....”
Night Light lifted the paint bucket, and in a lightning movement—
“He opened Starswirl's window and dumped the paint all over those no-good nobles!”
The splash was huge and wet on the cobblestones below, and seemed to be louder than it should have been—as if he'd dropped the contents of a pool, rather than those of a bucket. A moment later came the strangled, tongue-tied curses that they couldn't quite keep to a mutter anymore.
“And then Bright Glow said, 'Heyuh, Starswirl, I've got somethin' funny to show you. Look out this window here!'” With his magic, he pulled up Twilight's covers, and she excitedly jumped up and ran to the window: it wasn't every night she got excused from bedtime, even for a moment.
“And do you know what Starswirl saw?” Night Light asked, as she approached the window. “Something like—that!”
She gasped at the half-dozen ponies below, no longer able to hide in the white-splashed bushes. Frippery had become drippery, and the few who had been foolish enough to wear black suits now looked down at their ruined raiments in despair.
“And Bright Glow said, 'Why, Starswirl! It's a couple of my clown friends from Clownterlot, home of all clowns! Laugh at them with me—because what else is a clown for?'”
Twilight laughed, and Night Light laughed harder, pointing down with a violent jab that Twilight—thankfully—didn't notice. The clowns below glared up at him, and continued to sputter at the taste of paint.
“And the nobles never bothered the young prodigy again,” Night Light said, “because they knew they'd been made fools out of. And Starswirl spent all his childhood days laughing and smiling, thanks to his dearest friend, Bright Glow the Clown.”
“Yay, Bright Glow!” Twilight called out.
“And that's the end of the story.”
“Aww....”
“All right, Twily,” he said, stepping away from the window, “it's time for bed now. Back you go.”
He made to close the window, but her head was still poking outside. “Good night, clown ponies!” she called down. “Thanks for helping with my dad's story!”
Then she pulled her head back out, and trotted to her bed as he closed, then locked, the window. “Are your friends gonna help out with more stories?”
“No, I don't think they will,” he said, smiling warmly.
“Aww. Well….” She shrugged a little. “I guess that’s okay. Good night, daddy!”
“Good night, Twily. I love you very much.”
“You too!”
Night Light levitated the empty bucket and walked to the door, when—
“Daddy?” Twilight asked. “Do you think Starswirl ever figured it out?”
He froze, and then he turned back to face her. “You mean, um, figured out how Bright Glow was saving him from the mean nobles?”
She had the same inquisitive stare she’d had at the start, more intelligent than any foal her age he’d seen: it had him pinned, despite her frequent blinks to interrupt it as sleep snuck up on her. “I hope not,” he ventured with a nervous smile. “Otherwise that would defeat the purpose, right? Starswirl wouldn’t have been protected all the way.”
“Hmm… I don’t know.” She snuggled deeper into bed, and her eyes closed as she mused out loud. “I think it wouldn’t be nice if Bright Glow never got someone to say ‘thank you’ for all his hard work…really… unfair.… G’night, Dad….”
She drifted off, and he too felt himself relax. Without meaning to, he smiled even wider than before.
–
The smile was gone by the time he reached the front door, and shoved it open to reveal the six straggling nobles—who really should have known better than to stick around.
“—an outrageous abuse of good fabric, not to mention this coat of mine, and I had a gala to attend tomorrow night,” one of the mares was whispering in an angry tone, half her face covered in paint. Her volume bled to nothing as she noticed Night Light, and his angry stare that was not one iota diminished by his makeshift makeup.
After a moment of staring, one of the gentlecolts—if you could call them gentle—started, “We weren't going to kidnap her, of course...” before he, too, ground to a halt.
Night Light jabbed a hoof at the end of the street. “Bright Glow the Clown says, 'get out.'” He tapped his nose twice. “Honk honk!”
He slammed the door shut.
Author's Note
Preread/proofread by a bunch of people, including but not limited to MrNumbers, Pearple Prose, and Aragon. Thanks for the help!
