The Importance Of Being Earnest
Author's Note
This was unexpected.
I wanted to do a Twilight and Velvet mother daughter fic for a while, but I never could figure out the plot. Then, out of the blue, this happened. Holy cow.
I really enjoyed this. I hope you all do too.
The Importance Of Being Earnest
Twilight Velvet stood in her kitchen, cleaning dishes.
A rare chance saw Twilight Sparkle and Shining Armor free for a weekend, and they’d come to spend time with their parents. Spike was taking care of matters in Ponyville, and Cadence had given Shining the weekend off, saying he worked far too hard as it was. So, they’d finally had time together.
Saturday had been wonderful. Herself, her husband Night Light, and her children had all gone to the park for a picnic lunch. Shining and Night Light had had a fulfilling conversation about experiences in fatherhood, and activities they’d liked to do together, but Velvet found herself in an odd situation. When she’d tried to speak with her daughter, interruptions kept happening. Ponies who wanted her daughter’s advice, or wanted a picture or an autograph. And she’d felt a bit put out in a way. But seeing how happy her son and husband were had made up for it. But as the day went on, that tiny itch of dissatisfaction remained.
It was Sunday now. A day of rest and being together with family. Twilight had spent the morning absorbed in a book. Even through breakfast, she didn’t stop reading. And as Velvet went to do the dishes, that itch of dissatisfaction turned into a seed of doubt instead.
Did Twilight really want to be here? Or was this just getting out of her castle for a weekend? The thought made Velvet purse her lips. Because at the end of the day, it was a kind of gateway to one of her worst fears- That her daughter didn’t connect with her anymore. The thought put a lump in her throat that made talking impossible. Because to acknowledge this deep-seeded fear was to make it true.
Velvet had spent years in fear of that. She’d actually felt that way much more often when her daughter was a filly. She’d put her nose in books so much she wouldn’t take the time to spend with her mother. And she wondered, however briefly, if she’d done something wrong to make Twilight so… distant. But now that her daughter was a princess, finding time with her was nearly impossible.
It wasn’t as though she thought her daughter didn’t love her. That wasn’t true at all. She knew Twilight loved her, undoubtedly. But she just felt this disconnect between them that shouldn’t have existed between a mother and daughter. She felt more connected with her son than Twilight, who came to her for advice often, whom she told of her latest stories that were being published. Shining had always been a kindred spirit in the way of being adventurous like she was, whereas Twilight had taken more after her father. That had often been a point of contention between herself and Night Light in Twilight’s teenage years. Night Light had maintained a lovely relationship with their daughter and she’d been… Well, at best she’d get one word answers, and at worst days with no communication. Nightlight had tried to soothe her by saying “It was in the teen DNA”, but the excuse wore thin quickly. She couldn’t help but think that if she’d been closer with Twilight when she was little it wouldn’t have been half as bad.
Now, all those years of worry and fear of losing each other came bubbling to the surface. As she scrubbed a pan with a sponge, she felt herself beginning to weep silently, as a dam of fear that should never have even existed was broken. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She knew that. She was supposed to have this beautiful relationship with her daughter that no fear could breach. She was supposed to never let her insecurities slip out for fear of upsetting her children. And she wasn’t supposed to cry- ever. Because If she did, and they saw, she wouldn’t be making them feel safe.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Worst of all, a part of her blamed Princess Celestia for this. If she hadn’t taken on Twilight as a protégé, if she hadn’t become her student, if she hadn’t sent her to Ponyville, if she hadn’t made her a princess, then maybe it would have been different between them. Without that interference, with more time together, maybe they would have been closer, and maybe she wouldn’t feel so… disposable.
She knew beyond a doubt that if something were to happen to her, Twilight would go to the princess for guidance and comfort. It had always put her on edge in a way, and made her feel as though she was going to be replaced. She knew, logically, that wasn’t true. But that shadow self of hers that had made those fears, and all of her fears for her children, had taken over. And now, there was no stopping the whirlwind of doubt that consumed her.
Was she enough for her daughter?
She didn’t realize that her silent sobs were shaking her enough to make the pan she’d been scrubbing clang against the sink. She didn’t realize it, that was, until a voice came from behind her.
“Mom? Are you okay?”
Twilight’s voice snapped her from her self-pity. Instantly, she arranged her face into a smile and steadied her breathing.
“Of course, Twily.” She said, looking over to her daughter. By some force of luck, a partly chopped onion was on the counter. “Chopping onions always makes me cry, you know that.”
“Mom… You were washing a pan. You wouldn’t do both because you always get worried that the soap will get on the onion and it would make us sick. What’s going on?” She asked.
Velvet put the pan in the sink, head lowering with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Twilight.”
“Sorry? For what?”
“That I’m not a good enough mother for you.” She said quietly.
“What?” Twilight asked in quiet astonishment.
“It’s true. And it’s been true for a long time. I’m incapable of giving you what you need. I don’t… We don’t connect. You’ve always been more connected to your Dad and Shiny has always connected with me, but there’s been something missing between us ever since you were a little girl. And I… I’m not enough. I can’t teach you how to be a princess, or help you with research, or even give you advice that you might need because you already get it from other places and other ponies. I’m just… Useless. And I have been for a long time.”
Twilight was stunned, longer than she had been in a long while. The cogs in her mind began to turn, trying to understand how to correct this erroneous assumption. She looked back on her relationship with her mother, and though it had been rocky in the teen years as it likely was with all mares, she couldn’t think of anything that might have caused this misconception. She remembered the books and stories, and how her Mom has always been right there, sitting beside her and-
Oh.
Oh.
Guilt crashed down around her suddenly, like a violent storm. She realized then that her mother’s misconceptions were still completely untrue, but she also saw that she hadn’t given her reason to think differently. She realized that as much as she loved her mother and needed her, she hadn’t been demonstrating that. She went over to her mom and gave her a tight hug.
“Mom, don’t you realize how important you are to me?” She said, thickly. “I may have not always shown you how much I still need you, but I do. You were the one who always encouraged me to make new friends as a filly. If I had taken your advice back then, I might be a better pony now. You always encouraged me, even when you were struggling yourself. You took time out from your writing whenever I couldn’t understand something, you used your book royalties to buy me school supplies or potion ingredients or new spell books. You comforted me when I had nightmares and kissed my bruises. And you did it all for me. But even though I didn’t always talk to you like Shiny did, it doesn’t ever mean that I didn’t feel connected to you. I mean, you gave birth to me. You calmed me down by just sitting in a room with me. And whenever I made a mistake, I knew you’d always be there and always love me.”
“But I-“
“No. No buts about it. You’re irreplaceable to me, Mom. And I don’t know what I’d do without you. Even if I don’t always say it enough, I love you. You’re my hero, Mom.”
Velvet felt herself sob again and held to her daughter tightly. “I love you so much, Twilight.”
“I love you too, Mom. I always do. Even when I forget to show it.”
It was the most connected she’d felt to her daughter in recent memory, and she savored it like she would the creamy center of an expensive chocolate. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. An understanding came quietly to her.
She realized that in all the years she’d spent hiding these feelings, she could have been talking about them. Granted, Twilight likely wouldn’t have been receptive in her teen years. But before she moved to Ponyville? She would have. She’d wasted so many years holding in her feelings that she didn’t see the possibility of speaking on them bringing about something beautiful.
“I used to tell you when you were a little girl "I love you, but I don't think that's enough.". I’d always thought that it would constantly be this way between us, so I didn’t bother to learn a better way. But I have to learn a better way, honey. And you’re helping me do that.”
“I’m glad. If you ever feel this way again, will you tell me instead of keeping it to yourself?”
“Of course. I think today is a fresh start for the two of us.”
“Me too, mom. Me too.”
“Will you write home more? It’s difficult sometimes not having you or your brother around. I miss you both very much when you’re gone."
“I promise I will. Maybe we could do something together next weekend for a few hours?”
“I’d love that.” Velvet smiled.
And so, when the next weekend rolled around, the pair of them went shopping together for new books, and then read them, and had a bit of a book club together. Velvet told Twilight of the adventures she’d tried that inspired her own books, and Twilight told her mother of the adventures she’d gone on with her friends that she hadn’t written home about. The entire conversation inspired Velvet. The next day, she sat at her typewriter, and started to type an autobiography, something far out of her comfort zone of writing. She spoke of raising her children, and how she’d communicated differently with them, and how pivotal discussions between her and her daughter had given them a better understanding of one another. She wrote of her struggles of being a mother to a famous mare and colt, and how the spotlight sometimes shines so brightly on them that it can make any parent question themselves. And she spoke of how important communication was to a family, no matter who was in it.
She titled it, The Importance Of Being Earnest: A Mother’s Journey Through Raising Royals.
