Forgiveness is Stupid

“Well, this is the throne room. This is where we sit and discuss friendship problems, and also receive missions from the super powerful Cutie Map that has more than once held the fate of all of Equestria!” Any questions before we move on?”

CelestialBody Lightsource put a hoof to her chin in thought after Twilight’s question. Brushing aside the single lock of hair that was the most ingenious way of letting people know she was no longer a bloodthirsty tyrant, she shyly raised a hoof and blushed. Blushing is always cute, even on the most disgusting demons from the fiery pits of Hell.

“Oh, there’s no need to raise a hoof, Celly!” Twilight replied with her default, fan-given, normalizing nickname. “Just say what’s on your mind!”

“Hmm, okay . . . what if I want to use the Cutie Map to create a massive black hole that swallows all of Equestria in a swirling miasma of screaming and eternal anguish? Is that okay?”

“Why, of course not, silly!” Twilight giggled. “That’s a definite friendship problem!”

“Oops! Right, sorry,” Celly replied. “It’s just so difficult to know what’s right and what’s not. I mean, being a dictator that regularly executes rebels and bathes in the blood of non-believers really kinda messed me up a teensy bit . . . I mean, can you believe that it’s all because I texted my friend and didn’t get texted back when I was twelve? Silly, huh?”

“Totally!” Twilight giggled again. “But learning about what’s legal in Equestria is just one step towards friendship!”

CelestialBody grinned, making that squeaky smile sound that ponies make that endears them to everyone with little effort.

“Twilight!” came a scream from upstairs. “Why is there a pony-eating boa constrictor in my bed!?!” The voice drifted down the stairs, and the owner, Starlight Glimmer, raced out towards them, shaking and white-faced.

“Oops!” Celly chirped. “I forgot! See, I wanted to give my new friend a gift, and I figured, what’s the best gift to give a really good friend? And I thought: bingo! Live, deadly reptiles! So much fun!”

Starlight stared at CelestialBody as if she had suddenly appeared to ruin a perfectly good narrative, then scrutinized her countenance for a second longer. “I know you!” she said. “You were my teacher at the Canterlot Horse Academy for Superpowered, Slightly Inconvenienced Sociopaths!”

“Oh, yeah!” Celly replied with a playfully demonic grin. “We’re too classy at CHASSIS! And you were my best student! Could turn cats inside out and implode whole towns before she was fourteen! A really gifted force of destruction!” She eyed Starlight, tyrant to tyrant, with a stare of pride. “But you did say you were awfully sorry, didn’t you?”

“Uhh, yeah . . .” Starlight muttered, kicking a hoof and looking at the ground, “that’s all it takes, right?”

“Exactly!” Twilight nodded. “Friendship doesn’t care what horrible, godless atrocities you’ve committed. As long as you’re reeeeeeeally sorry, you can always start over!”

“Really?” Starlight asked, thinking back to her own respectable list of godless atrocities. “So, even a murderous dictator can be instantly forgiven?”

“Yep!” Twilight replied.

“Even if she vivisected her enemies and displayed their bodies in front of her palace?”

“Yep!” Twilight said again.

“Even if she ordered wrecking crews to demolish the poor district with the occupants still inside just because they looked weird?”

“Yep!”

“Even if she pieced together body parts from freshly murdered corpses and used demonic magic to resurrect it as an undead perversion of nature just for a goof?”

At this point, CelestialBody was blushing vividly, but whether in embarrassment or pride was difficult to tell.

“Yep!” Twilight said for the fourth insufferable time. “Even then! ‘Cause that’s how friendship works!” Her resulting smile was accompanied by that weird, off-kilter eye thing reserved only for the sheepish, the sneaky, or the insane.

“Uhhh . . . .” Starlight glanced between her friendship teacher and her abominations-against-life teacher.

A knock at the door made all three mares turn, and the visitor floated inside. She eyed Twilight with one eye while the other wandered off, probably staring into an alternate reality where ponies convincingly change their ways and actively improve themselves.

“Mail call for Princess Twilight!” said the googly-eyed mailmare. “A letter from Princess Celestia about how your student is doing so fa—AAAHHHHH!!!”

She suddenly became coated in a greenish light, there was a blinding flash, and where the mailmare once floated, now sat a mound of gooey, melded flesh with limbs sticking haphazardly out all over, facial features dotting it like stripes on a zebra.

“OH, MY GOSH!!” Starlight screamed at the hideous slug of parts oozing on the palace floor. “What happened!?!”

“My favorite game!” Celly exclaimed with glee. “Corruption of Life! Friends turn each other into the most despicable abnormality of existence possible, and whoever lives longest without crying wins! It’s a fun way to make friends, and I’ve never lost!”

The mailmare simply blinked one eye (the other twitched uncontrollably on her back, or whatever her back was now), wiggled a hoof sticking out of her head, and coughed up green gunk from the opening on her side that had to be her mouth.

“Kill . . . me . . . .”

“Celly, what were you thinking?!” Starlight shrieked. “That’s not the way to meet friends! How could you possibly think that’s okay?!”

At this, Celly blinked several times, her eyes beginning to shine with tears. “I . . . I’m sorry . . . I didn’t know . . . I’m still new to this whole friendship thing—”

“NEW TO FRIENDSHIP!?! That’s just common sense! I can’t believe I should have to tell you—!"

“Now, now, Starlight,” Twilight cooed, wagging a hoof at Starlight, “you can’t want to force anypony to change overnight at your convenience, unless that pony is Fluttershy. Remember, you struggled with friendship too, until we just up and decided you didn’t anymore with no real effort or even a glimpse into your struggles. We all know that’s how it works, right?”

“But . . .” Starlight sputtered, now achieving full cognitive dissonance. “B-but—”

“Now, come on, you don’t want to be a bad influence on her, do you?” Twilight asked. “I mean, I instantly forgave you, but if you end up harming Celly’s progress, I could turn on you in an instant. That’s how friendship works, right?” Another squeaky-toy grin accentuated Twilight’s mania.

“Oh, thank you, teacher Twilight!” Celly squeaked. “I promise, I’ve learned my lesson, and I know better than to believe overpowered magic has any beneficial effects on friendship!”

A millisecond after she stopped speaking, there was an explosion from upstairs.

“What . . .” Starlight muttered fearfully, “was that?”

“Yay! That’s more of my overpowered magic undoubtedly having beneficial effects on friendship!”

A green mist crackling with electricity wafted down from the staircase, and tumbling down after it was Spike. At least, it was sized and shaped like Spike. But the charred skin and patches of missing scales exposing blackened bone made it hard to tell for sure.

“Tw- . . .Twilight . . .” Spike wheezed, looking up at the group. One eye was bloodshot, the other was missing. “What . . . what did she do . . . ?”

“Isn’t it great?” Celly grinned. “I heard Spike always had trouble waking up in the morning, so I conjured a super powerful spell that you can’t learn from any book! It sends a tingly feeling through your body and eases you awake!”

Starlight’s eyes bugged out of her head. “Does that look tingly to you?!”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot . . . the spell also makes you decompose if you’re not up within twenty seconds . . . .” She glanced over at Twilight with puppy-dog eyes. “Did I mess up again?”

“Well . . . yes,” Twilight replied simply. “But if you know you did wrong, and are willing to say you’re sorry, it’s totally fine.”

At this, Spike’s remaining eye bolted open. “Twilight! I’m literally falling apart because of her!”

“Oh, Spike, don’t complain so much. She’s still learning.”

“Wh- . . . what? Twilight . . . she’s been doing these horrible things for weeks! She has no control, or empathy, or conscience, or foresight, or care for anyone but herself! You’re letting her get away with everything just because she says she’s sorry! But she just won’t stop!!”

“Oh, Spike,” Twilight repeated, “it’s not her fault. It’s your fault for expecting better from her. Everyone knows that destructive and crippling flaws that prevent normal function in society are essential to making us who we are! We’re not perfect, so we’re under no obligation to improve! And the world just has to accept that! Now, come on, sing with me!”

“S . . . sing?” By now, Spike’s throat was wasting away.

“Yep! Singing a song is the only way to effectively hammer in a lesson and change a pony’s heart for good! Come on, everypony!”

Both Spike and Starlight’s jaws dropped (in Spike’s case, dropped off his face and to the floor) as Twilight broke out into song, and Celly shortly joined her.

“We’re not flawless, but our crimes are a perk!”

“We’re not perfect, but our atrocities make us work!”

Starlight’s jaw simply widened. How these two could be so nonchalant, even welcoming, of such unacceptable horror was beyond her. Her heart began to speed up, and her breathing along with it. Next to her, Spike began to cry, his tears carving trenches through his wasting scales.

“You . . . you ponies have to be stopped!!” he screamed with what little strength he had left. He then limped pitifully toward the door, collapsing before even leaving the throne room and falling to the floor next to the sluglike chthonian mess that was the mailmare.

“Ahh, what a lovely song!” Celly sighed after she and Twilight finished. “That was more fun than my sexual torture dungeon! What did you think, Starlight?”

Starlight was far too overcome by terror to reply.

“Speechless? Yay! We’re a hit!” She looked over to the slowly-crumbling dragon on the other side of the room. “What do you think, Spike?”

“I don’t feel so good . . . .”

“Yay! He liked it!” Celly then reached a hoof into her long, flawless and sparkly mane and produced and object. “What did you think, Applejack?”

Starlight gagged when she realized that the object was a head. A head with a blonde mane, a cowboy hat, and a look of horror forever etched into her face.

“APPLEJACK!!!”

“Celly,” Twilight spoke in amused disappointment, like a sitcom mother, “what did you do?”

“It’s a new friendship idea!” Celly replied with her dementedly pleasant grin as she held aloft Applejack’s severed head, splattering a trail of blood from the dripping neck. “This way, ponies can still do their jobs and live their lives at home and still spend time with their friends! Applejack must have been too tired to do any more farmwork, though. Her body went sleepy-bye after I took off her head.”

“You . . . you killed Applejack . . . .” Now, it was Starlight’s turn to start crying.

“Celly,” Twilight continued her sitcom-mom voice, “you do know that decapitation is wrong, right?” This made Celly gasp.

“Oops! I didn’t know that! I’m really, really extra special sorry, Twilight.” Celly’s ears drooped and she frowned in a suspiciously fake manner.

“Hmm . . . it’s okay!” Twilight giggled. “Forgiveness is how we handle all repeat offenders in Equestria! Right, Starlight?”

Starlight’s guts plummeted.

“Oh!” Celly suddenly chirped. “I forgot something! I probably should have told you before, but you know . . . still new to friendship and all . . . .”

“Oh, dear lord, what did you do this time?!” Starlight moaned. Right after she spoke, there was a massive rumble from above as chunks of the ceiling fell to the ground. All three mares looked up, and saw a large wrecking ball puncturing a hole in the palace, while simultaneously cackling and wearing Discord’s face.

“Howdy, ponies!” the wrecking ball called out as it swung and knocked out another chunk of ceiling.

“So, after a chat with my bestest buddy in the whole wide world, Discord,” Celly explained, “we agreed that we really needed a supervillain lair to spread out our message of coercion, control and world domination in the name of friendship!” After seeing the flabbergasted look on Starlight’s face and the vaguely surprised look on Twilight’s, she explained further, “Unfortunately, that meant making room in Ponyville, so I sold him the deed to your palace.”

Starlight erupted. “YOU SOLD THE HOME AND BASE OF OPERATIONS OF EQUESTRIA’S LAST LINE OF DEFENSE TO AN UNCONTROLLABLE AND IRREDEEMABLE GOD!?!?!”

“Yep!” Celly grinned her wraithlike grin. “That’s friendship, right Miss Twilight?”

“Ummm . . . well . . . .” Twilight’s struggle seemed a bit more real this time, “no, not really . . . but your heart was in the right place, so I guess I can forgive you. But only if you say you’re so—”

“Twilight, stop!” Starlight screeched. “She’s not sorry! She can’t possibly be sorry! I mean, look at what she’s done! Not only does she not know that these things are wrong, but she just doesn’t care! You keep saying you forgive her and that she knows friendship now, but she clearly doesn’t!! What is wrong with you!?!”

Twilight frowned, and Celly simply showed off her puppy-dog eyes again. As Celly sniffed, Twilight approached Starlight, her face stern and reproachful for what Starlight thought had to be for the first time since they met.

“I’m disappointed in you, Starlight,” said the princess. “I would’ve thought you’d know that forgiveness is the most important thing ever. It’s not very ‘friendly’ of you to think otherwise.”

Now, Starlight’s eyes and mouth were the widest they’d ever been. She released stuttering gasps and shook where she stood, all rational thought processes now on indefinite hold as she stared into the eyes of her incompetent mentor.

“Oh, Miss Twilight!” Celly wailed, her tears now tears of joy. “Thank you so much! I don’t know where I’d be if you weren’t there saving me from the consequences of my own actions! I’ve definitely learned about friendship, now! And I’ll definitely think about that the next time I use my absurdly powerful magic without actually thinking!”

“Good for you, Celly-Belly!” Twilight giggled again. “Remember, it’s not a punishable crime if you’re sorry and say you’ve learned your lesson!”

“Yay!”

“Yay!”

As the two stood yaying, another chunk of ceiling fell, landing on the crumbly and dusty remnants of Spike, ending his misery. The crooked-eyed blob next to him burbled, “L- . . . lucky . . . .”

As Starlight stood there, now seething at Twilight’s insipid protection of Celly, there was a knock at the door, and she felt her guts plummet again as another pony walked in. Oh, lord, what fresh hell awaits now . . . ?

“Twilight, I need help!” yelled the new visitor, Pinkie Pie. She carried Pound and Pumpkin Cake with her, the two babies whining and waving their baby hooves at one another in frustration. “See, Pound took away his sister’s blocks, and when she tried to take them back, he hit her! It wasn’t very hard, and she didn’t even cry, but then Pumpkin started trying to pull off her brother’s diaper, and they’ve been fighting ever since! I don’t even know if they’re playing or not, ‘cause they’re not crying or really hurting anyone at all, but I needed some advice to be su—”

“Tartarus.”

The cold, chilling, frightening command sounded as though it ought to come from the depths of Tartarus itself. But Pinkie, Starlight, and even Celly glanced over at Twilight, and saw her appearing to glow with a tyrannical anger.

“What?” Pinkie asked. “What did you say?”

“Those children are a threat to friendship itself,” Twilight snarled in her cold fury. “I can’t let that happen.”

“But . . . but Twilight,” Pinkie mumbled, “they’re just kids. They don’t understand how friendship works, or even how law and order works. It wouldn’t be right to send them there, even if they wanted to go for whatever reason—”

“Tartarus!”

“But, Twili—”

“TARTARUS!!”

Twilight’s horn flashed, then the Cake twin each flashed, and in a bright blink of light, they both disappeared.

* * *

Tirek glanced over at the conveniently empty cage next to him in the bowels of pony Hell and saw two lightning fast blinks of light appear inside it. In their place, two small ponies wearing diapers and whining at each other, took up space in the cage.

“So,” the wrinkly old centaur said, his first possible communication with life outside Tartarus in years, “what’re you in for?”

* * *

Starlight simply stood. No longer sobbing, shaking, or seething, she simply stood. Her body was still. Her face was stone. Her mind was blank. Negative emotions across the spectrum had so overwhelmed her that she had come full circle.

“It’s good that you did that, Miss Twilight!” Celly laughed. “Now that’s a friendship lesson that’ll definitely never come back to haunt you! Now, what’s another good way to spread friendship all across Ponyville? Oh, I know! Winter’s coming soon, and it must get really cold and drafty in Rarity’s store. And she doesn’t even have a fireplace! But she’ll have warmth all year round if I set the boutique on fire! Yeah, then she’ll never be cold aga—URK!”

Celly suddenly gagged as her body swelled, coated in a deadly blacklight. The blacklight transformed her body into a mass of energy that then imploded in on itself, collapsing and shrinking into a tiny infinitesimal point of space before blinking out of existence with a loud POP.

“Huh?!” Twilight blurted out. “Wha- . . . where’d she go?”

Starlight sighed as the blacklight energy she shot at CelestialBody LightSource dissipated from her horn. “Finally, my unreasonably overpowered magic does something right.”

“Starlight!” Twilight squawked. “How could you?! That wasn’t very forgiving!”

“You know, Twilight,” Starlight replied dully, “forgiveness is all well and good, but there are lines you just don’t cross without it ending extremely poorly.” She then turned and walked toward the door, sidestepping another falling chunk of rubble just as it fell and walking past Pinkie Pie, who’s personality really doesn’t matter since she’s served her purpose and this particular situation has been resolved. Starlight stepped over the rock that sat atop Spike’s degraded corpse and slammed a hoof on top of the mailmare’s gooey, sluggy form, its final breath a sigh of grateful contentment.

“Wait!” Twilight called after her, “Where are you going?”

“To turn myself in for my crimes,” Starlight replied conversationally.

“But, why?”

Starlight turned to Twilight’s pleading face just before another falling chunk of ceiling fell on top of it, breaking over her empty, stubborn little princess head. Starlight’s answer was loud and clear:

“Because you’re a fucking idiot.”