Compatī

I stayed at the castle that night. Starlight was kind enough to put me up in a spare bedroom. Crystal walls, silken sheets, the comfiest mattress that my younger self could have only dreamed of sleeping on. It was nice, I guess.

But that thought didn’t stick with me very long. Not many did these days.

When I woke the morning after, I lay there for who knew how long, idly swishing my hoof through the sheets, watching the creases and folds bunch and smooth out. The most luxurious bed in the most luxurious castle. And yet…

I reached over and pulled the other pillow close, breathed it in its scent. I could smell Sunset in the fabric. This was probably her bed. I wondered if Starlight meant for us to share a room, or if she had made a mistake—just another passing luxury.

Sunset…

She let me pretend. For just one night, it was real; she and I simply were.

I swished my hoof across the sheets again, smoothed out the creases, and stared at the other half of the bed for the make-believe that it was.

Like the pillows, like the sheets, just another passing luxury.

That thought dragged behind me like a ball and chain when I rolled out of bed to find Starlight. She’d said they always ate breakfast in the “map room,” wherever that was. Which actually wasn’t that hard to find, given the castle’s concentricity.

Concentricity. I sighed. That was a Sunset word. Leave it to the world-class fuck-up that I was to ruin my own day before it even started.

I nosed open the door to see a large round table in the middle of the room, surrounded by seven tall crystal chairs, each emblazoned with what looked like the cutie marks of Princess Twilight and her friends. Starlight sat at the one with a trio of apples set into the top, and she waved me over like a long-lost friend.

“Morning!” she said. She motioned at a stack of waffles on the table in front of her. “Help yourself. We’ve got plenty, and Spike’s making more as we speak.”

“Morning,” I said. “I appreciate it, but I-I’m not quite hungry. Is… Is Twilight around?”

“Uh, yeah? I mean, she should be. She’s normally awake by—” She started in realization, glared at the far left door, and stormed off. “Oh, she better not be…”

I didn’t know what to do other than follow, but I kept my distance. The words she muttered curled from her lips like dragon’s breath, and I didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire.

Starlight burst through the double doors Spike had led me to last night, and before even stepping inside, there she was: Sunset. She lay inside that strange chalk ring, intertwined as if in the throes of passion with… her.

Princess Luna. Nocturne. Whatever the fuck she wanted to call herself. She had draped a wing over Sunset sometime last night. I wanted to rip it off and beat her with it.

Sunset wasn't mine to love. She never was. But I couldn't help the indignant fire the sight stoked in my belly. After how that bitch tore our friendship apart—after what Sunset said she had done to her—how fucking dare she touch her.

“Twilight?” Starlight yelled at the mare slouched over a large table commanding the right half of the room. “What did we talk about last night?”

The figure sat up and turned, and it was indeed the Princess of Friendship herself, from what little I’d seen of her. She wore a tired, miserable expression, like she hadn’t slept in days. She turned back to the papers and charts and stuff scattered all over the table.

“I have to get her out,” she mumbled.

Get her out? My eyes snapped to Sunset, and I felt the panic rising up to grasp my heart like a gangly claw. Did something happen to Sunset? Did she do something?

I walked up to the chalk circle that enclosed Sunset and Princess Luna like some strange foal’s game of hopscotch. I did recognize some of the inscriptions as stuff from our old A-chem textbooks, but I couldn’t for the life of me guess what they meant anymore or how they were being put to use.

“Don’t step on that,” came Starlight’s voice from behind me. She had a hoof pointed at me. “That’ll seriously mess up your day. And you—” She turned back to Princess Twilight. “Did you sneak back down here after I went to bed this morning? You can’t keep working like this. You’re gonna fall apart, and then who’s going to save them? We’re already down Star Swirl for a few days. I’ll be damned if we’re down you, too, for even half that.”

“I’m not going to fall apart,” Princess Twilight snapped. “They need me. And I need to figure out what happened so we can keep it from happening again.”

Starlight put a hoof on Princess Twilight’s shoulder. “Twilight, I get that. I really do. But we need to keep ourselves healthy. I know you remember how Fluttershy almost killed herself helping Zecora.”

Princess Twilight said nothing.

“Twilight,” Starlight said. She put extra weight into her hoof. “You need to get out of this room.”

“Not until I—”

“Twilight,” Starlight said forcefully enough that even I jumped to attention. Softer: “Please. You’ve been working yourself to the bone. You can’t help them if you don’t help yourself. Just go get some breakfast at least. Spike made some amazing waffles.”

“I’m not hungry.”

That got a frown on Starlight’s face. “Well, if you won’t sleep and won’t eat, then would you at least go get some fresh air? Take a walk, go say hi to Applejack or somepony. Just…”

She turned to me with a smile far removed from her earlier, uh, rancor. “Would you mind taking her out for a walk or something? I know you want to help, and getting Twilight back in the right headspace would do us loads of good. Making a new friend will be better than me badgering her all day,” she added with a bit of emphasis and a pointed glare at Princess Twilight, “and I’ll still be here working on things.”

Princess Twilight answered her with an eye roll, but nevertheless got up and trundled for the door.

Starlight watched her go before leaning in to whisper: “She’s… under a lot of stress right now. We all are.”

I stared at Princess Twilight as she made it to the door, stopped, and turned to look at me. A war of emotions raged across her face, making it impossible to tell anything beyond the “this is a waste of time” she had already made clear. Part of me wanted to run back to bed and cower under the sheets, but another drew my eyes back to Sunset in the middle of the room, trapped inside that labyrinth of chalk.

It didn’t look like sleep. If anything, it looked like a magically induced coma.

I wanted to save Sunset from whatever was going on. I wanted to dive headlong into whatever fray there was to dive into, throw her over my shoulder, and claw our way back out. I would do whatever it took if it meant holding her in my hooves again.

But I had to stop being an emotional bitch. I had to be realistic, and that meant swallowing the lump in my throat, taking a deep breath, and smiling for the world. So I did just that.

“If it helps Princess Twilight help Sunset,” I said, “of course.”

Starlight smiled at me. “Thanks. You really don’t know how much it helps. Spike and I will be here when you two get back.”

Princess Twilight and I headed out amidst the bustle of the breakfast rush. It was overcast today, but that didn’t stop ponies from hitting the town. A dreary autumn morning might have made for a quiet wake-up, but Ponyville knew how to make the best of the crummy weather the local weather team loved drumming up.

The weather also did little to dampen their curiosity, I had to admit. As we passed through the town square, we got quite a few looks from passersby. I was used to frequent stares from practically every stallion and the occasional mare, but Princess Twilight really took the cake. She must not get out much, which tracked with my own rare sightings of her. Not that I myself got out enough to say for certain.

“So what did you want to do?” Twilight said. She had a stiff lilt to her voice—rote, mechanical words from a mind definitely still stuck in that room.

“How about waffles?” I said as we passed Flap Jack’s. I couldn’t blame her for thinking about Sunset, but Starlight entrusted me with cheering her up. Besides, my nose couldn’t say no to the sugary sweetness rolling out from the joint. “I, I kinda missed out on them back at the castle.”

She gave me a noncommittal shrug and turned in at the patio entrance.

It was one of those outside-only grill cafés that sported a large patio all done up with flower baskets along the perimeter fence, with red-and-white striped umbrellas shading half a dozen picnic benches. The perfect sort of breakfast spot for a sunny summer day. Of course, it was neither sunny nor summer, but a dreary autumn day was probably ideal. Cheery weather would have made me feel cheery, which in turn would circle back on the day before last and all its fuckups and now I was thinking about it. Fucking brain.

Smile for the world. A deep breath—in, then out—and I followed her in, sunshine and rainbows.

A mare greeted us at the gate with a smile and a sweep of her hoof toward the tables. “Welcome to Flap Jack’s! Have a seat. Your waiter will be with you shortly.”

We thanked her and picked an empty table toward the back left of the patio, nearest the grill. The glorious smell of pancakes and syrup rolled over us like ocean waves, and the sizzle-sear of freshly poured batter had my mouth watering like a Manehattan whore in a “toy” shop.

The waiter swung by and got our drink orders—a root beer for me, a coffee for Princess Twilight—and even still Princess Twilight had that absent dullness to her voice.

“So how do you know Sunset?” I asked. Bringing her up wasn’t the best way to get Princess Twilight’s mind off her, but I had to start somewhere.

“It… i-it’s a long story. One I’m honestly not sure if she’d want me to share.” She tapped her hoof on the table, her eyes wandering the tablemat’s criss-cross red-and-white stripes. “Uh, you two are friends, right?”

“Yeah. We both went to CSGU. We took A-chem together.”

That got her to perk her ears up. Of course it’d be some goofy science thing that got her attention. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, though.

I was about to segue into the many shenanigans we got up to in that class, but the waiter ground that train of thought to a halt by swinging around again for our breakfast orders. I could forgive that bright smile of hers, though. I’d always had a weak spot for purple eyes.

“I’ll take a Flap Jack’s Favorite,” I said.

“I’ll get the same,” Princess Twilight said without so much as glancing at the menu.

With a quick scribble on a little notepad, the waiter nodded and trotted off.

She was a pretty one. Had a youthful, energetic jaunt that flaunted her petiteness, and that messy bun of hers was definitely doing her plenty of favors. I caught myself watching her go longer than I should have and blinked back to reality, only to see Princess Twilight sporting her own thousand-yard stare somewhere in the marketplace behind me.

“Hey,” I said. I reached across the table and put my hoof on hers, gave it a gentle squeeze.

She looked at my hoof, then me with that stare. There was a sense of longing in her eyes, of searching for an answer to a question that possibly had none.

“You’re worried about her,” I said. “I am, too. And… I get that our worries will never be exactly the same, because we’re different ponies. But like Starlight said, you gotta keep your chin up. You can’t help her when you’re sulking like this. Nopony thinks straight when they’re that deep in their own head.”

I was one to talk, but I tried my best to put that aside so I could smile for the world and the mare who needed it most here and now. It took a moment, but I finally got that gentle return squeeze I was hoping for.

“It’s not just that she’s in there fighting while I’m stuck out here, it’s…” Princess Twilight’s eyes trailed off into the salt and pepper shakers huddled up against the table’s umbrella’s shaft. She sighed, and she brought a tiny smile up to meet me. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Starlight’s right. I needed to get out. Just like I needed that little break with Pinkie Pie that never actually became a real break. So thanks. I really would like to get to know you better.”

She pointed her ears toward me, and I took that as a sign that, at the very least, she was trying.

“My name is Twilight Sparkle,” she said, doubling down on that smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Coppertone,” I said. “Same.”

She pulled her hoof out from underneath mine, and I likewise retreated to my end of the table. “So how long have you lived in Ponyville?” she asked.

“About three years.”

“Really? I’m surprised I haven’t bumped into you, then. I honestly thought I’ve met everypony in town at least once by now.”

I shrugged. “I don’t get out much. Just kinda eat, sleep, work.”

I didn’t feel the need to mention Star Chaser in that formula.

And with that thought, it was my turn to take a tumble back down into the dumps. After the day before yesterday, that little voice in my head had gotten louder about how I’d fucked her over, and thinking about her now didn’t help me stay on track with Starlight’s request.

Twilight hadn’t seemed to notice yet, at least. She seemed too busy taking stock of me the longer we sat there. Studying, admiring. The little smile of hers got warmer with every passing second.

I knew what it meant, but I’d been used to it all my life. I was just a pretty face. That’s all I ever was. Only one pony saw me differently, and she was lying in a coma on the castle floor. I smiled back, if only to shove that thought down where it belonged, for Princess Twilight’s sake.

Smile for the world, and here we go.

“So what about you?” I asked. “I’ve only ever seen you a few times out and about. Always with your friends, traipsing off to prevent one cataclysm or another.”

That got a giggle out of her. “I wouldn’t exactly call it traipsing, but I wouldn’t be anything without my friends.”

So you could say being the Princess of Friendship comes with a few “benefits?” I almost said. Had it been Sunset in front of me, I wouldn’t have thought twice, but it wasn’t the sort of leap of faith I was comfortable making with a mare who seemed, for all intents and purposes, relatively uptight. Probably would have gotten me thrown in a dungeon or something, even.

But Sunset… She would have snorted in that adorable way of hers and probably thrown the paper from her straw at me. Her smile, though… I could imagine her smiling like there was no tomorrow.

“Coppertone?”

I blinked, and it was Princess Twilight sitting in front of me again. She had her mouth hooked in a little frown.

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I, you know…” I sighed. Maybe giving her another problem to focus on would take her mind off things better. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now. Like, not this whole whatever-it-is you guys are doing. Just… relationship stuff.”

“Oh.” Twilight folded her ears back.

“I mean, we kinda broke up. In a bad way. I talked to her yesterday, and it… I don’t know. I never wanted to hurt her, but clearly that didn’t pan out. So we’ve, uh, broken it off officially. It’s better that way.”

Princess Twilight’s expression ran the gamut from defeat to concern to surprise to hopeful reservation hinted with a grain of shame. It was kinda funny, honestly, but I kept that to myself. It made me wonder if she even realized how transparent she was. She was an odd duck, at the very least. Most un-princessy princess I’d ever met, if I were to use Princess Celestia as the gold standard.

“I’m sorry.” Twilight began combing the back of her mane forward over her shoulder, taking a sudden, intense interest in her coffee mug. “What was her name?”

“Star Chaser,” I said, and I left it at that. Didn’t have the strength to say much else.

“She’s from Vanhoover,” Princess Twilight said, still staring into her coffee. “Used to work for—”

“Vanity Mare,” I said. “Yeah. Before moving here to get away from it.”

Most ponies got caught up in the glamor of modeling and the supposed highlife that came with it. What they didn’t realize was how skewed toward the top that lifestyle was, while the “mid-range” and “bottom-barrel” models got the leftover scraps. To make it big the way most fantasized, you had to sacrifice your dignity, among other things. The top-end models traded their innocence for a moment in the spotlight, only to find themselves tossed out the back door with the rest of the trash at their first grey hair.

It was such a disgustingly nepotistic industry devoid of morals and ethics. It sucked you dry and spit out your shriveled corpse. I was lucky to learn that before diving irreversibly into it. Star Chaser, not so much. And now, thanks to the living arrangements we decided for ourselves, she’d probably have to go back to that shithole of an industry. All thanks to me.

“I hope she’s feeling okay,” Princess Twilight said.

Yeah. I did, too.

“Are you sad you two broke up?” she continued after a moment.

Other than the whole bit where I emotionally and financially fucked her over? I shook my head.

“No, I’m… I’m glad. I mean, yes, I’m sad we broke up, but she deserves better than me. I was pretty horrible to her.”

“You? Horrible to somepony?” She wore a disbelieving frown. “You don’t seem like a horrible pony.”

“You’ve also never met me before,” I mumbled.

That seemed to cut deep. Princess Twilight laid her ears back and looked away.

“Everypony has their problems,” she said. “We’re not flawless.”

That got a weak but wry smile on my face. “We’re a work in progress.”

Princess Twilight snickered, and we both broke down into laughter. When I got control of myself, I leaned forward on the table and pointed a hoof at her.

“Now that little stunt I do remember,” I said. “You guys had the whole town bitching and moaning about something or other.”

Princess Twilight rolled her eyes. “Believe me, I remember it, too.”

We shared another laugh that ended in a contented sigh from both of us, and we let the conversations from the other tables take the reins.

The waiter came around with our plates, and I tucked in, if only to keep a sense of normality afloat to ride out the happy silence. Not to say I wasn’t hungry as hell, but I still had to keep my obligations front and center.

Twilight took to her meal with the same gusto, but I could tell by the way she folded her ears back that her mind was still stuck on something. Sunset did that a lot, and I’d be damned if I didn’t notice when somepony else did it, too.

I let it go, though. She kept a smile, her eyes bouncing from pony to pony around the café. Observing the friendships going on around us to distract herself, I bet. Those who were more than friends, too. Her smile turned wistful, and I couldn’t help feeling the same dregs collecting in the bottom of my heart.

“So what’re you into?” she asked, her eyes suddenly on me. Her ears stood at attention.

I considered the bite of waffle in my mouth and I figured that now, if ever, was the best time to poke some fun. I swallowed and gave her the slightest grin.

“What, you mean like kinks ’n shit?”

Oh, man, and I thought Sunset could look flustered, but this chick took home the gold. If the word “nope!” had a face, I’d be hers at this very moment.

Except maybe that was going a bit too far, if the way she wilted was any indication. Touchy subject? My brain wandered down the old dusty road of pointless musings, but stopped at the fork signposted “Foalhood trauma, left. Sexually frustrated, right.”

Now wasn’t the time for therapy, and Celestia knew I wasn’t qualified to dispense it. Still, I threw the elephant into the room. I had to at least try and drag it back out.

“Not your cup of tea, huh?” I smiled, hoping that would smooth over whatever speed bump I’d plowed through.

She started as if I had shouted, and she did that flitty thing with her wings a lot of pegasi did when flustered. A smile, a quick refolding of her wings, and the princess was back in the building.

“N-not really, no,” she said. “I’m… that’s more of a conversation for indoors than here.” She regarded the remainder of her waffles, but said nothing else.

A measured statement. Something I should have expected from a princess, no matter how un-princessy she was at heart. She had to maintain a certain level of formality, or else the public would eat her alive.

Behind that crown, though, there was a certain endearing quality to her. She reminded me of Sunset, back in our university days. It was… refreshing, in its own way. It felt normal, as abnormal as comparing them was. But none of that line of thinking.

I did my best to simply enjoy her company. I liked to think that I succeeded, and she looked much the same. The liveliness Starlight wanted me to draw out of her seemed very much at the forefront.

The smile on her face was genuine, at the very least. After a lifetime of getting hit on by thirsty colts and being the butt of many a mare’s jealous ideations, I knew fake smiles from real ones.

We went on about this and that—this one time something silly happened, schooltime shenanigans and whatnot. I was surprised to learn just how much of a nerd she was. After my experiences with Princess Celestia, “nerdy” was the last label I’d have expected to slap on a princess, despite how many preconceived notions she had broken.

I forgot about the worries of actually helping Princess Twilight. We were like two long-time pals shootin’ the shit. It was well past noon by the time we gave up our seats to the tail-end lunch rushers and moseyed back to the castle, taking the long way through town.

The weather team had cleared away most of the overcast to give Ponyville at least a little sunshine before the depressingly early autumn sunset. Still, as much as I hated the dreary weather, I enjoyed myself. It wasn’t until we got back into view of the castle that the melancholy settled back in the way I imagined knee pains did for old ponies when the weather changed.

We entered the portal room, and there she was lying on the floor. Oh, Sunset… I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t stand seeing her like this. It didn’t matter what Starlight said, I wanted to run over and hug her, hold her tight and never let go. I wanted to shake her awake and tell her everything was going to be okay.

This was wrong. The coma, the nightmare, all of it.

If only I had kissed her that day in the park, or told her how I felt back on our Manehattan vacation, all those years ago. None of this would have happened.

I would have given anything to see her smile right now, to just know she was alright.

But I couldn’t do that. That was just me being the stupid, emotional fuckup I’d always been. I’d only make things worse.

Twilight stared at the two of them much the same. She had her ears back, and her wingtips had slackened below the curve of her back.

I came up beside her and put a reassuring hoof on her shoulder. Smile for the world, and I said, “So how else can I help?”

Twilight looked at me, at them, then at her hooves. “It’d be best if I got you up to speed before anything else.”

She pulled her notes from the table, and she led me to the library.